We’re finally here. Harry thought, tiredly suppressing a huge yawn threatening to crack open his face. Though whether that was a good thing or a bad thing, it was hard to tell. The driver mechanically told him that he had arrived at his destination and the moment Harry got out of the car, it sped past him, as if trying to flee the monster inside the cave. Harry wished that the ministry car was taking him back to the Burrow. Heck, even the Dursleys would be better than this place. Harry thought grimly looking up at the tall dark house towering in front of him. Snape had to be home and yet the shutters were firmly closed, blocking every single ray of light from entering into his domain. The small garden in front of the house was filled with rows and rows of neatly arranged flowers, but these weren't the ordinary ones you'd see in a typical English garden. No. These were strange unrecognizable plants with enormous spikes, tube like leaves and pitch black flowers that looked more rotten than alive. On the window sill there were jars filled with bubbling liquids of different shapes and colors. They seem to be enveloped in a cloud of multicolored mist. Harry could feel a shiver running down his spine.

Why? Just why couldn't he end up in a normal home? Out of all the people who could have taken him in why did it have to be Snape, the one and only ex death eater who happened to hate his guts. First he was stuck with the Dursleys who hated him because of his mother, now he was stuck with Snape who hated him because of his father. Just fantastic! Harry sighed loudly before accepting the inevitable and starting to walk along the gravel pathway which cut the rows of strange flowers in half. The heavy trunk jolted on the uneven floor making it hard for Harry to walk. The moment he pushed open the iron gates guarded by a gargoyle snake with evil red eyes, all sounds seemed to fade. The chirping of the birds ceased abruptly and the whoosh of the wind died on its tracks. The whole property was enveloped in a bubble of uneasy silence.

Harry tightened his coat around himself, wishing fervently that he was anywhere but here. He walked up to the ebony colored door and before he could loose courage, he rapped on the door sharply, making sure that he was heard. The dull thud of knuckle on wood reverberated strangely inside the puddle of silence, making it sound much louder than it really was. Harry tried to moisten his parched lips with an even drier tongue. A water bottle. He knew he had neglected to pack something at the Burrow. His thoughts flew back to the dozen apples laying inside his trunk. He didn't know what to expect from his stay with Snape. What would the dungeon bat make him do? Where would he make him sleep? Would he even let him eat? He didn't know. The apples, packets of crackers, chips, cake and various other food items were merely a precautional measure. Ten years living with the Dursleys had made him an excellent food smuggler.

The thick heavy door opened with an ominous creak. Out of the dark house stepped out the tall imposing figure of Professor Severus Snape. He was wearing his usual dark bellowing robes and his arms were crossed in front of his chest. He was looking down his formidable nose at a terrified Harry. The moment the cold obsidian eyes met his, Harry felt like bolting out the door and returning to the safety of his protective friends.

"Potter." Snape stated nodding his head in acknowledgement of the young boy's presence.

"Good morning, sir." His voice came out smaller and more high pitched than he had expected. "Professor Dumbledore sent me."

"I'm well aware of why you are here, Mr. Potter." Snape sneered. Reluctantly, he opened the door a little wider. “Get in.” Harry gulped and slipped inside, not knowing what awaited him. He was painfully aware of the fact that Snape used to be a death eater. In fact, it was more than probable that he was still a death eater, biding the right moment to hand him over to the Dark Lord.

Everything was pitch black. No white sunlight. No orange flames coming from a roaring fire, only darkness everywhere. He heard the large door bang shut behind him and he jumped a foot in the air. It felt as if he had suddenly been thrust into the cupboard under the stairs where no light could reach him. Only it was worse, much worse. He could sense the looming figure of his professor watching him closely, his feral eyes seeing even in the darkness.


“The garden, my potions lab and my bedroom are strictly off limits. If I catch you setting so much as one foot on any of these premises, you will sorely regret it.” Snape’s cold voice seemed to come from all around him. Harry tightened his jacket around his body as he began to shiver. It was so cold. Harry never thought that he would miss the Dursleys but right now, if he was given a choice, he would have happily crawled into his cupboard. “Your bedroom is up stairs, on the first door to your right. Do not, under any circumstances, disturb me.” There was a swish of robes and then, suddenly, Snape was gone, leaving Harry completely alone in the dark room. And never in his life had Harry felt more alone than now, in the house of a man who hated him.

He was wet. He could feel his ragged clothes sticking to his body as he lay on the ground, shivering. But whether from the cold or the hunger not even he could tell. He blinked, giving his fog filled mind time to clear itself. It didn’t take long for the pain to take over, bringing with it a flood of ghastly memories. It hurt. It hurt everywhere. His head, his arms, his rumbling stomach but especially his back. It felt as if his skin was on fire. Where was Eva? She would help him. He moaned weakly, licking his cracked lips. Water. He needed water. He didn’t know how long he had been trapped here, completely forgotten but one thing was sure, if he didn’t get some water, there would be no tomorrow to wake up to.

He moaned again, begging to be heard. Water. Someone please, a drop of water. Eva, where are you? I need your help. He tried to push himself up with his palms but his fingers slipped underneath him. His face hit the ground with a dull thud. Wet. He was laying in the middle of a puddle. Oh, thank Merlin. Trembling, he extended his tongue. Its tip met the glossy pool of liquid all around him but instead of fresh water, he felt an unpleasant metallic taste floading his mouth. Blood.

He coughed and splattered as he tried to sit up again. He could feel the bile rising up to his throat. He felt as if he was going to vomit but that was not humanly possible. He had no food or water in his stomach. His cloths were damp and heavy around him, soaked up with blood. He began to tremble. Oh, God, what was happening? Was he injured? Was he dying? Blood. So much blood. It was everywhere. It seemed impossible that a single human body could hold so much blood in it.

Help. He wanted to scream but his voice was gone. They had taken it away from him as they had taken everything else. Oh, God. What was happening? He tried to move, to do something, anything other than sit around waiting for something to happen. The pool of blood sloshed around him as he dragged his unwilling body inch by inch across the floor. He couldn’t do it. The pain was too much.

Help. Someone. Eva? Where was Eva? She would help him. She would hold him and tell him that everything will be alright. She would be strong and firm and kind and gentle as she always was. He just had to find her and everything would be alright. She would…

A ghastly scream tore the air apart. Eva! Another scream, even louder than the first. No! Leave her alone! He ground his teeth and heaved himself up but he felt himself being yanked backwards. His head hit the stone floor with a sickening thud. Everything went black. Somewhere in the distance a man was laughing…

Severus woke up, screaming. He was drenched with sweat and his sheets were bundled up all around him, trapping him on his large wrought iron bed. Eva! He had to go. He had to save her. Severus struggled against the sheets, getting even more entangled in his hurry. He couldn’t breathe. His lungs screamed for air as he kicked and fought. Damn those bastards. What were they doing to her? They won’t hurt her again. He won’t let them. He won’t let them take her away as they had taken away all the others.

Crack! Something large fell on the floor, shattering into a thousand fragments. Severus froze. His eyes took in the vague outline of his desk lamb, lying broken on the cold stone floor. Moonlight streamed from the window illuminating other objects around him. The tall cupboard that reached from floor to ceiling containing all his cloths, the simple wooden chair that sat next to the window with a footstool in front of it, and especially his book shelves. Dozens of bookshelves filled to the brim with novels, all of them worn out with frequent use. Soft, blue light fell onto the spines of his well-loved books, giving them an almost ethereal beauty. Severus’s eyes automatically scanned the shelves for his favorites. Wuthering Heights. Jane Eyre. Great Expectations. All there, exactly as he had left them last night.

Severus let out a deep breath and passed a trembling hand through his hair. A nightmare. It was just a nightmare. He told himself firmly but that was the problem. It wasn’t just a nightmare. It was a memory, something that was buried deep inside him for a long time and now it has decided to resurface.

Damn Potter. It was all that wretched boy’s fault. Just when he was rebuilding a life for himself, putting his past memories aside, Potter had to show up and ruin everything. Six months. That’s how long he hand gone without a single nightmare. Compared to a few years ago when every night he used to wake up screaming, that was a monumental improvement. He had started to hope that they had vanished for good, but now they had returned and all because of the bloody Boy-Who-Lived-To-Torment-Him. Damn him and damn Dumbledore. Why did he, of all people, have to be stuck with Potter? There were millions of people out there who would have jumped at the chance of adopting the saviour of the wizarding world. And what about Professors Minerva, Pomona or Flitwick? Couldn’t they have adopted the boy? Surely both Potter and he would have been happier if he had been given to almost anyone else. But no! The old coot had to insist that he and he alone adopt the boy. And how could he refuse? Dumbledore was the one man that stood between him and a dark cell in Azkaban crawling with Dementors.

So here he was, the adoptive father of one Harry James Potter. Oh, the irony! He didn’t know whether to laugh or to cry. I need a drink.

One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Harry counted the spots of damp on the ceiling. The middle spot looked as if two were combined together along one edge. Did that count as one spot or two? That’s odd because he distinctly remember that it had been two spots about an hour ago. Well then, it definitely counted as two. Harry let out a heavy sigh. He was so bored.

He was laying down on his bed with a transfiguration book sitting face down on his chest. He had tried to pull a Hermione and start memorizing all his textbooks just so he would have something to do. He had finished his homework a week ago. Harry never truly appreciated how smart Hermione was until now, these huge textbooks were impossible to understand without the teachers explanations and the fact that he couldn’t practice with a wand really did not help matters.

He glanced at the open window looking for a familiar white shape but the sky was a clear unmarked blue. There wasn’t even a cloud that he could mistake for his faithful familiar. His friends haven’t written back to him in weeks. Harry couldn’t really blame them. After all, both of them had families that wanted to spend time with them and truth be told, if Harry had a family he wouldn’t be looking out the window every hour waiting for the post to arrive. Where else would he find a friendly word?

It has been three weeks since he had arrived at Snape’s doorstep. Harry had spent most of this time locked up in his room, reading, writing letters to his friends and doing his homework while he still had it. There was just no were else for him to go. The garden was out of bounds and the rest of the house was just too dark. Once Harry had tried to pry the shutters open but the locks wouldn’t budge. He had tried hard, pushing and pulling, rattling the window panes. He had only stopped when Snape materialized out of the shadows and hissed at him to “stop being an infernal nuisance, Potter.”

Speaking of Snape, the man was never anywhere to be found. The house was eerily quiet, almost as if Harry was the only living soul roaming its corridors. He didn’t even know where his lab and his bedroom were located. There were doors everywhere in this house. Small ones and large ones crammed together into every available space. There were doors under the staircase, doors along the hallway, doors lining the kitchen and the living room. There was no way to know where each and every door led but they made Harry highly uncomfortable. Unlike at Hogwarts where every door was an adventure, here it felt as if behind each and every door, Snape could be lying in wait, ready to ambush him. So in his small room he stayed, staring at walls covered in a dull grey paint with only a single bed and a cupboard for company. Harry sighed wearily. This summer was going to be a very long one indeed.

Harry shook his head, trying to get rid of all the gloomy thoughts. He just needed to focus on the positive side of things. First, he was still alive and intact which, considering Snape’s dark reputation, was a small miracle. Second, he was well- fed. Every day when he went down to the kitchen in time for breakfast, lunch or dinner, a full meal complete with desert was laid out on the elegant table. Third and best of all, Snape was no where in sight which meant that Harry would have to endure his biting comments and insults as little as possible. All in all, his situation could have been a lot worse.

“Potter?” Snape’s voice called from behind his bedroom door. Harry jumped up from the bed, feeling as if he had been caught doing something illegal. Snape’s voice had that affect on most people.

“What is it, sir?” Harry answered, rushing to open the door. What was going on? Snape had never come out to look for him, not once in three weeks. Their contact had been limited to accidental brushes along the corridor. So why was he here now, knocking at his bedroom door?

Snape was standing in front of the doorway with his hands crossed in front of his chest, his face contorted into a familiar expression of loathing. His cold eyes swept over Harry, examining him from head to toe.

“Well, well, Potter. I see you have been sleeping in the middle of the day. It seems that your supreme laziness is not limited to the school year.” Harry bit his tongue, hard, trying to keep himself from saying something he will regret. He could feel the familiar anger rise in his chest but he forced his voice to remain polite.

“Did you want something, sir?”

“Lunch is ready. Come downstairs in ten minutes precisely.” With that, Snape spun around, his black robes bellowing around him. “And Potter, do try and look presentable. You look like a delinquent in those abominable rags.”

Delinquent? Harry felt his throat constrict as he shut the door slowly. He felt a sudden inexplicable urge to laugh. A delinquent. The man had called him a delinquent just like Uncle Vernon, Aunt Petunia and Aunt Marge. Snape was just like them, hating him for no reason than because he breathed. It had taken him ten long years to escape the clutches of the Dursleys and now, look where he was. Harry passed a hand through his mop of messy hair. He was just so bloody tired. Almost on automatic, he went to his trunk and got dressed in his school robes, the only suite of cloths that didn’t look as if he was wearing elephant skin. He took out the Gryffindor badge and hid it in the bottom of his trunk. The man hated him already, there was no need to provoke him any further.

He passed a comb through his hair but just as always, his messy mop refused to be tamed. What did he care what Snape thought? He was a death eater after all, allied to the man who killed his parents. He didn’t give a damn what he thought. Snape called him a prat, a fool, an arrogant show-off and a delinquent. What did he care? It was just Snape being the usual greasy git, the terror of the dungeons. I don’t care. I don’t care. I don’t care. Harry repeated the words again and again in his mind, the same words he had repeated thousands of times at number 4, Private Drive.

He remembered the first time he told himself that he didn’t care. He had been barely five and it was the merry time of Christmas. At least, it had been merry for anyone whose name hadn’t been Harry James Potter. While the Dursleys were laughing and singing carols, their bellies filled with mince pies and stuffed turkey, Hary had been standing in a corner, watching. He had watched while they played games. He had watched while they opened their Christmas crackers and adorned their heads with paper crowns. He had watched while Dudley opened his presents, sitting on his father’s lap while his mother handed him present after present, each one wrapped with glossy red and green wrapping paper. There were so many presents that he couldn’t even keep count. There was a brand new bike, a game boy, a stuffed bear, a toy helicopter and so much more. And for Harry? Absolutely nothing. That year Harry had gone so far as to ask Uncle Vernon if Santa had left him any presents. He had been careful to be extra good that year, but Uncle Vernon had just growled. “You are a delinquent boy and Santa doesn’t give presents to delinquents.” He didn’t even know what the word had meant but he still cried as he stood at his corner telling himself that he didn’t care, over and over again. Harry had lost count of the number of times he had been called a delinquent. His uncle, his aunt, his cousin and even the neighbors. It had never mattered that he had tried his best to be good, he was still a delinquent.

Harry had a private bathroom. He went inside and slammed the door shut. Okay. He had to calm himself down. In five more minutes he had to go downstairs and face Snape and his biting insults. He couldn’t loose his temper, not here when he was entirely at Snape’s mercy.

He went to the sink and opened the faucet. Cold water rushed out. Droplets splashed onto his white shirt, leaving behind a pattern of grey spots. Harry gripped the edges of the sink and let out a deep steadying breathe. I don’t care. I don’t care. I’m just being an idiot. Sure, he still got insulted on a daily basis but at least, he didn’t have to work anymore and he got fed, which is a hell of a lot better than at the Dursleys. All in all, it wasn’t so bad.

Then why did he feel like banging his head on the nearest grey wall every few hours? Why is it that Snape’s comments still stung? Because for just an instant, before Dumbledore came out with this ridiculous solution, he had dared to hope that finally, after years of disappointment, he would be having a real family. He had pictured himself sharing a room with Ron, coming down to breakfast everyday and having Mrs. Weasley greet him with a hearty good morning. He had pictured opening his present on Christmas morning and finding a jumper with a large H embroidered onto it.

Harry scooped up some water and splashed his face, letting the cold seep into his skin. He could feel the water slipping down his neck and dampening the white shirt. This was all his fault. He had broken the second most important rule of his life: never hope. With a tired sigh, Harry wiped his face with a pristine white towel and headed downstairs for breakfast.

______________

“Harry, my dear boy, it’s so good to see you!” Harry’s jaw dropped open. Professor Dumbledore was sitting at the table, his eyes twinkling under his half moon spectacles. Harry fought against the feeling of betrayal that was settling into his stomach and offered him a small smile.

“Its great to see you too, sir.” What was he doing here? Was it possible that he had come to take Harry away. Maybe he could go live with the Weasleys after all.

“It’s a splendid morning, isn’t it? Come. Come. Have a bite of bacon and eggs.” Dumbledore cheerfully patted the chair to his left. The dining room seemed completely transformed, the gloom and darkness vanished overnight. The windows were wide open throwing light onto the wooden table stuffed with food. There was bacon, eggs, pancakes, cupcakes, chocolate pudding and even a bright orange bowl filled with lemon drops. It looked like a feast. Snape was sitting to Dumbledore’s right with a Daily Prophet open in front of him looking as if he’d rather be anywhere else. He didn’t look up when Harry sat at the table and served himself with the smallest portions possible. He didn’t feel particularly hungry today.

“So Harry, I see you look well. I hope you’ve already started doing your summer homework.”

“I’ve finished it, sir.”

“Good, its always better when you get your homework done early. That way when September the first comes near, you won’t have anything to worry about.” He gave Harry a smile as he submerged his pancakes with maple syrup. Harry nodded, distractedly cutting a piece of bacon into little squares. He wanted to know what Dumbledore was doing here but he didn’t want to be rude and ask him directly. Was Dumbledore so happy because finally he was giving Harry what he always wanted, a proper family?

“I myself had a great summer. I found this dog on the…”

“Headmaster, perhaps it is better if you tell Potter why you are here.” So, it is true. Dumbledore had really come all the way here to see Harry. He crossed his fingers under the table, hoping despite himself that Dumbledore really did care about him.

“Of course, of course, Severus.” Dumbledore ate a forkful of pancakes and chewed slowly. Harry watched his face, his own food completely forgotten. Oh come on, Professor, show me that I was right in trusting you with my secret. Take me away from here.

“As you saw with your own eyes last year, Harry, Voldemort is anything but dead.”

“Oh.” This was definitely not what Harry had expected.

“Thanks to your quick actions, Voldemort still doesn’t have a human body but that doesn’t mean that he will stop trying to get one. His spirit has contacted his former death eaters and it seems like he’s trying to reassemble his army.”

“Without a body, sir?”

“Oh, I have no doubt that Voldemort has found another poor soul willing to share their body with him but yes, Harry, Voldemort still doesn’t have his own body. He must believe that with an entire army at his disposal, it will be easier to find a way to fully resurrect himself.”

“And then he’s going to come after me.”

“I’m afraid so.” Harry nodded, wondering why he wasn’t feeling more frightened. Maybe it is because Harry had already known all this. The moment he had come face to face with Voldemort he had known that the man would not stop hunting him.

“And that is why I have taken additional steps to make you sure you will be safe, Harry. I have asked Professor Snape to train you in advanced defense against the dark arts.” Harry blinked, the brief moment of hope vanishing in an instant. Advanced defense against the dark arts with Snape, the master of dark arts? Had Dumbledore completely lost his mind? Snape would hex him into oblivion and not teach him a single thing. So much for a Snape-free summer.

“I would think, Headmaster, that since you are the most powerful wizard in the world, you would be more suited to…” Snape started to argue.

“We have already discussed this, Severus. I have explained this to you once, I will not be doing it again.” Dumbledore was unusually stern as he looked at Snape above the rim of his half moon spectacles. “Your lessons will start immediately. The sooner you are trained in defending yourself, the better.”

“Will you be staying for the lesson, sir?” Harry asked clinging to the last shred of hope. If Dumbledore was with them, Snape wouldn’t dare hurt him.

“Me? Oh no, Harry. I have to be off now. In fact, I’m already late.” Dumbledore said looking pointedly at his watch and before Harry could come up with any kind of protest, Dumbledore was gone, leaving the two of the them to finish their breakfast in awkward silence.

______________

Honestly, was this man allergic to sunlight? Harry thought grimly as he stepped foot into the training room. There was no sunlight anywhere, only the dim orange glow of dozens of candles floating around in mid- air. With the large black and white checkered tiles covering the floor, the room looked oddly like the chess board Harry had played in last year but instead of an entire army of pieces, there were only two. Him and Snape. A pawn and a castle ready to blow each other into little pieces.

"This first lesson will be dedicated to practicing what you have already learned." Snape got straight to the point, probably wanting to get this over with as soon as possible. He was standing stiffly in the middle of the room, his wand held tightly in his right hand. Harry tried hard not to stare at the shiny black wand that seemed to gleam in the candlelight. What sort of dark spells did Snape know? Had anyone died at the point of that simple wand? Even now, with one flick Harry could be on the floor twitching in pain or worse, lying stone dead. Harry felt so utterly powerless at this moment and he was mad at Dumbledore for putting him in this situation. Even with Uncle Vernon Harry had known that if the worst happened he could turn around and run as fast as his legs could carry him but with Snape, what could he do? Absolutely nothing.



"Are so talented that you have already mastered wandless magic, Potter." Snape sneered.



"No, sir." His voice was quiet, respectful. Anything other than that would be dangerous. Whatever happens, he must not loose his temper.



"Then I suggest you take out your wand." Harry took out his wand and held it front of him, trying his best to remember all he had learned last year. With all the major changes that had taken place this summer, Harry had all but forgotten everything he had learned in school. His short wand felt completely useless in his inexperienced fingers.



"Now tell me, Potter, what spells would help you defend yourselves against an attack."



"Well... there's the flying spell, Wingardium Leviosa."



"And under what conditions can that spell be used?" Harry stared, not knowing what Snape was talking about. He vaguely remembered something Professor Flickwick had said in class. Something about how some magical animals were resistant to the spell. Or was it magical plants? Or maybe it was a different spell? Damn. Harry vowed that this year he would pay more attention in class.



“I had hoped that in these last few weeks you had acquired a modicum of intelligence. It seems that I was wrong.” Do not react. Do not react. I mustn’t make him angry.



"Let us try again, Potter. If a dragon were blocking your path, would you use Wingardium Leviosa to lift him out of the way."



"Uh... No?"



"And why is that, Potter?" Dead silence. "Are you telling me that you do not know how to answer such a simple question? If you hadn’t wasted so much time breaking the rules, you might have gotten more out of your lessons." Actually I’ve been too busy stopping a crazy dark wizard from returning to life, Snape. Harry thought angrily but he wisely kept his mouth shut.



“Wingardium Leviosa can only be used on items that weigh less than the person who casts the spell. Hence, if I cast the spell on you, you would start to float; however, if you cast the spell on me, nothing would happen. Now, I know that your minuscule mind is already overflowing with arrogance, Potter, but do try to remember this piece of vital information.”



“Yes, sir.” Harry hoped that Snape couldn’t tell how tightly his teeth were clenched.



“Now, I want you to practice this spell.” Snape lazily flicked his wand arm and a large book the size of footstool thumbed to the ground at Harry’s feet. “Send this book into that corner of the room.” Harry pulled up his sleeves and tried to concentrate. He couldn’t get this wrong. He knew this spell perfectly but with Snape sneering down at him it was hard to keep his focus on the dusty old book.



“Do be quick, Potter. We have a rather long list of spells to review. I want to finish this lesson before midnight.”



“Wingardium Levisa.” Harry blurted out, already panicked. He knew it was wrong the moment the words jumped out of his mouth.



“It’s ‘leviosa’, not ‘levisa.’ I would have thought even you knew that, Potter. Try again.”



“Wingardium Leviosum.” Damn it. Why couldn’t he say the bloody words? He knew this! He had used this spell on a troll for Merlin’s sake! Somehow Snape was even more stressful that a fully grown mountain troll.



“Potter! What is the matter with you? Wingardium Leviosa. It is not that hard. Try again!”



“Wingardium Leviosa.” Harry yelled, jabbing his wand in the book’s direction. The book shot across the room with the force of a bullet and hit Snape squarely on the chest. Oh, crap! So much for not angering the man.



“It is astounding, Potter, how you cannot follow the simplest of instructions. I told you to send the book to the opposite corner, like so.” He flicked his wand and the book gracefully sailed through thin air and landed in the corner. “Try again!” Another flick of his wand and the book was in front of Harry’s feet, waiting for his spell. Harry frowned at the book as if it was to blame for his current predicament. He lifted his wand, forced his anger deep inside him and said the spell.

_________



Four hours. They had been practicing all the spells Harry had used throughout the school year for four whole hours. Wasn’t he supposed to be learning advanced defense? Then why were they going over every single subject he had ever learned. They had gone over transfiguration spells, charms, potion properties and even herbology facts. What did any of these things have to do with defense? Harry would’ve sworn that Snape was just making him go over everything just to prove that he hadn’t paid attention to his classes.



Harry couldn’t feel his feet and beads of sweat were trickling down his forehead despite the chill in the room. Harry’s teeth were clenched so tightly, he was afraid they would break. Snape’s insults were getting worse and worse and Harry was finding it increasingly hard not to react. I must not make him angry. I must be polite. It’s nearly over. It can’t go on for much longer.



“You’re just like your father, Potter.” Do not react. Do not answer back. Harry bit the inside of his cheek. “Thinking that you’re better than everybody else simply because you exist. Arrogance and complete lack of brains seem to be family trait.” Do not react. Do not react. Harry’s left hand was balled into a fist, he had the sudden urge to punch that stupid sneer off Snape’s face.

“Try again, Potter!”

“Reparo!” Harry whispered through clenched teeth. Nothing happened. The book’s spine still remained cracked. Oh, how Harry hated that stupid book with its brown leather cover. He had been staring at the blasted thing for four hours!

“Brilliant spellwork.” Snape sneered. “Again!”

“Reparo!” Harry yelled. The book instead of mending itself, tore apart from the middle, its pages violently ripped out. Yellowed pages whisked through thin air, flying left and right so fast they seemed to have grown eagle wings. There was a loud thud as the book cover flew across the room and hit the opposite wall. It fell to the floor in four different pieces.

“Tell me, does that book appear to be completely mended to you?” Snape sneered looking at Harry through narrowed eyes.

“No, sir.” Harry took deep steadying breaths, he needed to calm himself down.

“Correct me if I am wrong, Potter, but did I not tell you to mend the book completely?”

“Yes you did, sir.”

“Then, why are there pieces of the book floating around in mid-air?” Harry thought it was safer to remain silent. “Answer the question, Potter.”

“I made a mistake, sir.”

“A mistake? I hardly think that is the cause. You know what I think, Potter? I think that you are the laziest person I’ve had the misfortune to meet, with the obvious exception of that worthless father of yours.”

“He was worth a lot more than you!” The words rushed out of his mouth before he had time to stop them. Harry clamped his mouth shut. I really need to learn how to control my temper.

“This coming from the mouth of the most ignorant student in the school. One who doesn’t even know how to cast a simple repair spell! Pathetic. Just like your fa…”

“My father could have beaten you bloody in a duel.” This time, Harry was too mad to even try to stop himself. Who was this idiot to talk about his father like this?. All color seemed to drain from Snape’s face. His thin lips twitched with fury. Harry gripped his wand tighter and held it in front of his face. It didn’t matter that he didn’t know any offensive spells. He would go down fighting.

“And how exactly did you deduce this brilliant conclusion. James Potter is stone dead. He was dead before you even learned how to talk.”

“Bastard!” The wand dropped from Harry fingers as he lunged at Snape’s neck. He hit an invisible barrier and was thrown to the ground. His elbow hit the stone floor sending shock waves of pain up his arm. Tears of anger and humiliation gathered at his eyes, blurring his vision. Snape’s dark figure towered over him, coming in and out of focus. Harry ignored the pain and quickly got himself back on his feet.

“What a brilliant idea, attacking a man with a wand with nothing but your fists.” Snape sneered.

“Shut up! Why don’t you just shut the hell up!?” Harry screamed. “I’ve had enough! Why do you have to insult me every single time you open that bloody mouth of yours? I mean, just once, can’t you say a normal sentence.”

“How dare you…”

“Three weeks I’ve been here and you’ve avoided me as if I had some deadly decease and even when we meet by accident, you still insult me! You called me stupid and arrogant but I didn’t say a single word. I was polite and respectful but I’ve had enough! You won’t insult my father too.”

“I will insult whomever I want to insult, Potter. Your father was an idiot, he was the most useless…”

“My father was a good man! He was so powerful that he had mastered wandless magic. He was so smart that he passed all his owls with outstanding results.”

“No, he did not! You are delusional, Potter.” Harry felt a slight flush creeping up his cheeks. He hadn’t meant to say that.

“And what if he didn’t? He is my father! The memories of my parents were all that kept me sane when Uncle Vernon locked me up in the cupboard and refused to let me eat! And when Dudley used me as a punch bag I thought of how they had loved me. So what if the memories weren’t real? Is it a crime to imagine that my father was a perfect hero?” Harry was panting, hard. Damn. He shouldn’t have said that. He hadn’t meant to say all that. He was giving Snape more memories to torment him with. He needed to stop talking, now. But that was impossible. A damn had broken inside him and he couldn’t stop the flow of words rushing out of his mouth. All the feelings he had kept locked inside him were pouring out.

“They’re my family and yes, I know that they’re dead! I hear my mother’s screams at night, begging for my life!” Snape had gone quiet. He was looking at the floor, his expression hidden by shadows.

“What? You don’t have anything to say now, Snape? Aren’t you going to tell me that I deserved all the crap I’ve had to put up with? That I deserved to be starved and beaten and hated.” He got no response. Snape was standing still, slowly twirling his wand between his fingers. “Why so quiet? You want to insult me? Go ahead!”

“And you know what the worst part is?” Harry’s voice had gone quiet, the tears threatening to spill. With a supreme effort of will, he held them back. Snape would never see him cry. “When I went to Dumbledore, I thought that everything was over. I mean, I should have known better than to hope but I did anyway. Maybe I really am as dumb as you think me. I thought that Dumbledore cared for me, that he would make everything right. I thought that I’d no longer have to bare the hate and the insults but then, the man ships me off to live here, with you!”

“This lesson is terminated. Return to your room.” Snape’s voice was a whisper. The anger was no longer there, only weariness. He just sounded very tired.

“Even then, I was a complete dumbass and I hoped.” Harry continued, ignoring his dismissal. “Dumbledore must have a reason to send me here. Maybe you aren’t as bad as I thought you were. Maybe when you weren’t in class, you’d be nicer. All crap! You are nothing but a sadistic bully!” Harry stormed out of the room, even forgetting his wand in his haste to get out of that there, away from Snape.

“Potter?”

“Get out!” Harry shouldn’t be talking like this to Snape, it was too dangerous. The third rule he had learned at the Dursleys house is that you should never talk back, not if you wanted to get fed in the morning. Right now, Harry couldn’t bring himself to give a damn. Punish me all you want Snape, you’re nothing but a git, a stupid sadistic git. Harry pressed his face into his pillow, his glasses digging into the bridge of his nose. He was not going to cry. The git was not worth it. He was not going to cry.

How dare that damn bastard talk that way about his father. He was a good man, a brave man who fought for the Order of the Phoenix. Nothing like Snape, the evil death eater. How dare he!

“Ah!” Harry screamed into his pillow, letting out all the anger and frustration he felt. He was not going to cry. A sob welled up inside him but he forced it down.

“Potter, open the door.”

“Why should I? You’re going to come in anyway.” Harry yelled, to his horror he felt his voice cracking. His shoulders were shaking, tears welling up inside his eyes, ready to fall at any moment. He could feel the moisture pooling up at the edges of his eyes. No! No! No! Snape won’t win. He will never see Harry cry. A dry sob shook his body from head to toe. Damn it!

“Alohamora.” Snape’s cold voice whispered. The door swung open slowly, its rusty hinges creaking in protest. He could hear Snape walking into the room, his cloak bellowing after him.

“Potter, there is…” Something inside Harry broke at that moment and, to his horror and shame, he started to cry. Loud angry sobs shook his body and tears gushed out his eyes. Harry yelled and buried himself further into his pillow until he could no longer breathe. Stop! Damn it, stop! He ordered himself but it didn’t stop. He continued to shake and to cry, his voice muffled by the pillow. He could feel Snape’s cold eyes on him, watching. Happy now, you sadistic bastard? Is this what you wanted? To completely humiliate me? Well, you won!

Harry didn’t know for how long he lay there, sobbing like a six year old. He could hear the minutes ticking on the simple clock hanging above his head. Snape didn’t say a single word the entire time. Maybe he had left or maybe he was just standing there, watching his handiwork. Eventually Harry’s sobs died down and all was quiet. The flood of tears lessened until there were only a few droplets still streaming down his cheeks. Harry let out a trembling sigh and sat up on the bed. His entire body was so heavy as if a large weight was sitting on his chest. He wanted to leave, he wanted to go back to Hogwarts which was the only home he will ever know.

“This situation is not working out.” Snape whispered. Harry lifted his head slowly. His vision was blurred by the tears that had fallen on his glasses but he could still make out the figure of his professor sitting on the wooden chair, his back to the window.

“Of c..course it isn’t.” A hiccup interrupted his sentences. “That’s not m…my fault.” Harry glared through his tears, daring Snape to challenge his words, to find yet another fault with his behavior.

“No, it isn’t.” Snape admitted. His voice was so quiet that Harry almost missed his words. Snape’s black eyes were fixed onto the floorboards, his expression thoughtful. Harry wiped his nose with the back of his hand and hugged his pillow tight to his chest. He was so tired, he felt that without his pillow he would break apart completely.

“I t…tried, sir. I tried to be r…respectful. I just…”

“It is hardly your fault, I never gave you a chance.”

“W…why?” Snape sighed deeply, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“As you have no doubt noticed, I am not the best teacher, Potter. I do tend to loose my temper but instead of yelling, I throw insults. I have no patience with children.”

“But, you’re not like this with anyone else. Just me.” Snape opened his mouth but no words came out.

“Why, s…sir?” Tremors still shook his body. Harry dug his fingers into the soft fabric of the pillow, trying to keep himself together. He won’t break down, not again. Once was humiliating enough. “Why do you hate me so much?” A heavy silence descended between them, interrupted only by the steady tick tock of the clock. Snape sat, still as a statue, staring at the ebony floorboards.

Outside the wind howled, swaying the strange flowers that crowded the garden. The sky was turning a mellow shade of orange as the sun slipped behind the line of mountains. Night was already creeping closer but none of them had noticed, too busy with their own internal battles.

“I do not.” Snape said slowly, tasting the words.

“What?” Harry blinked, startled. He had started to believe he would never get an answer.

“I do not hate you.”

“Then why do you insult me every single time we meet?” The tears on his face had dried but his nose continued to run. Harry wiped it again with the back of his hand. Snape stood up suddenly and walked towards the bed. Harry hugged his pillow, his fear of this tall dark man suddenly returning. The anger had driven away the fear but now that his anger had vanished, he remembered where he was once again. At the house of a man known for his love of the dark arts and a convicted ex death eater. Harry watched him through the corner of his eyes as he came steadily closer, his expression concealed by the curtain of hair that hung around his face. Harry fought the sudden urge to run out the door. He had nowhere left to run.

Snape stopped next to him, so close that their hands almost touched. Then, he bent down, opened the top drawer of his bedside table and took out a clean white handkerchief. He held it out in front of him for Harry to take but Harry only blinked, too shocked to move. The dour bat of the dungeons was handing him a tissue? If Harry hadn’t been feeling so bloody miserable, he would have laughed.

“I assure you, I have not soaked it in poison.” Harry still didn’t move, his hands not wanting to let go of his pillow. With a tired sigh, Snape extended one hand and his long pale fingers cupped Harry’s chin. His touch was as cold as ice but that is not why Harry gasped. It was the gentleness of that touch, something he had never felt before, not even at the hands of Mrs. Weasley. Gently, Snape used his other hand to wipe Harry’s cheeks, dabbing at the soft skin. Harry held his breathe. He didn’t want this moment to ever end. The fact that this was Snape, a death eater, didn’t seem to matter any more. Nothing mattered except this little gesture of kindness which was more than he had ever felt. Maybe Dumbledore had been right to put him here. Maybe they could still make it work, the two of them. They could be learn to get along, after all. All they needed was time. Harry’s lips curved into a smile and he looked up, his green eyes searching for Snape’s black ones but something was wrong. Snape was not looking at him. Even as he carefully wiped at the edge of Harry’s right eye, his gaze was elsewhere, fixed at a spot above his shoulder, his expression blank.

“Sir, look at me.” Snape’s thin lips drained of color as he pressed them together but his gaze didn’t shift. Something was definitely wrong. “Please. Look at me.” With another sigh Snape looked down, meeting Harry’s eyes. Harry watched, heartbroken, as Snape’s blank features morphed into a familiar expression of pure anger. He still hates me. Nothing has changed. This time, he didn’t even attempt to stop the flow of tears that dropped onto Snape’s fingers. Snape let go of his chin as if the salt tears had burned his skin. The handkerchief fell, useless, onto the grey bedsheet. Harry had thought that he had gotten used to being hated long ago. After all, he did have lots and lots of practice but as it turns out, it still hurts like hell.

Snape walked backwards until his back hit the wall.

“Oh, Christ!” He whispered massaging his temple as if trying to banish a stubborn headache. Snape was trying to look anywhere but at the small boy sitting on the bed, crying his eyes out. “I cannot do this. I cannot be who you want me to be. Damn Dumbledore, the meddlesome fool!”

“W…why, sir? Why do you h…hate me so much?”

“I don’t hate you, child! Its just that you look…” His voice trailed away, the sentence left abandoned. “Oh, Christ, I cannot do this.”

“Tell me! What is it about my face that you hate so much?” Harry yelled, his grip on the pillow so strong that his knuckles were turning white. “Is it my eye color? Does it creep you out? Is it my hair? Is it too messy? Tell me!” Snape was silent, his face buried in his hands.

“I could wear contact lenses. I could gel my hair back and maybe even dye it blond, just like Malfoy. You like Malfoy, don’t you?” Harry threw the pillow at the floor, wishing that it was something more fragile, something that would break apart, just like him. “Tell me what to do!”

“This is not right.” Snape was shaking his head. “You should not have been put in this position. You deserve to have a family, someone who will take good care of you. Like the Weasleys or nearly all the other professors at the school. Even Hagrid would be a better choice than me and the man bakes rock cakes! What was Dumbledore thinking?”

“The Weasleys would have been glad to have me. I would’ve had a mother, a father, a sister and lots of brothers. If only I had been allowed to stay there.”

“You know what, Potter. This ends here. This very moment I’m going to Dumbledore and telling him to take you away from here and give you to the Weasleys like he should have done from the start.” Snape spun around and stomped out the door. “Don’t worry, Potter. I’ll fix this ridiculous mess.” The door slammed shut behind him.

____________

Damn Dumbledore. He is nothing but an old fool and an idiot. Severus had stormed into his office and told him everything that had happened: the disastrous defense lessons, the insults, the yelling and the tears. But nothing had mattered. The man simply refused to remove the boy from his house. In the end, Dumbledore had stated that if Severus didn’t keep the boy, he would be sent back to the Dursleys, the place where he was starved and beaten.

Severus took out a ridiculously elegant crystal glass, a Christmas gift from the Malfoys, and poured himself a generous dose of firewhisky. He tipped his head back and drank the contents in one swallow. The alcohol burned as it made its way down his throat. This drink was extra strong, like all the drinks Snape kept locked up in his house for a particularly stressful day. Lately, h’s had a lot of those, all thanks to Potter. No. That was wrong. It certainly wasn’t the boy’s fault that Severus couldn’t stand the sight of him. It wasn’t his fault that the moment Severus looked at that all too familiar face, the anger inside him rose out of control. If anyone was to blame, it was Albus Dumbledore, the man who had dumped the boy at his doorsteps despite knowing that Severus would hurt him. Merlin, he had made the boy cry! A small vulnerable eleven-year old boy. What the hell had he become?

He remembered the way the boy had lain on the bed, sobbing as if his body would break. He had done that. He had caused that pain. The child had looked so small, clutching his pillow to his chest, dwarfed by the enormous bed. All he wanted was a family, something that Severus could not give him. He had tried to be comforting, he had dried the boy’s face as he remembered his mother doing a long time ago. It had almost worked before he looked at the boy’s face again. Then, all he saw was James Potter. Oh, Christ, what was the matter with him?

The pale orange liquid swished into the glass as he poured himself a second dose of firewhiskey, wanting that sweet moment of oblivion where he wouldn’t have to confront what he had done. It is funny how even now, after he had joined the Order of the Phoenix and done everything in his power to aid the light, he still ended up right here, trying to drown his guilt in alcohol. It almost felt like the old days, again.

“Sweetie, you shouldn’t drink so much, you know. It’s not good for your health.” The glass froze half way to Severus’s lips.

“Professor Sprout?” Severus placed the glass on the nearest table and went to help his professor out of her coat. She always wore such a heavy coat that her arms struck out comically at her sides. She couldn’t stand the cold. “What might you be doing here?”

“Why, Severus, I came to see how you were doing, of course… ah, that’s better.” She was finally out of her coat and she rubbed her hands together, glad to be able to use them again. Specks of dirt that always clung to the herbology professor’s clothes, fluttered to the ground, staining the pitch black carpet. “I heard that Dumbledore has forced you to take care of Harry and, of course, that can’t be easy for either of you.” Severus nodded solemnly. He flicked his wand at the fireplace making bright orange flames spring to life. Suddenly the room was bright. Too bright. Severus fought the urge to retreat into the safety of the shadows.

“Oh, there is no need for a fire, sweetie. I know how much you can’t stand bright light.”

“That’s quite alright, professor.”

“I’ll just the dim the flames anyway.” A flick of her wand and the bright flames shrunk in size, getting lower and lower until there was nothing but glowing coals. “There we go. Now tell me, Severus, how have you been doing.”

“Rather well.”

“Nonsense, my child. It is obvious that something is upsetting you.” Severus felt his lips curling upwards in a small smile.

“You know, Professor, I haven’t been a child in quite some time.”

“But you are still much younger than me, sweetie, and that means to me, at least, you’ll always be a child.” Severus snorted. Hufflepuffs. What can you do?

“And anyway, you are avoiding the subject. What is upsetting you?” Professor Sprout sat down in a large plush armchair in front of the fireplace. It was bright orange and completely hideous, not to mention the fact that it did not suit his dark and dour personality at all. He always meant to throw it away but somehow, the knowledge that it was Professor Sprout’s favorite stopped him.

“It is merely the usual. Dark memories returning. I’m sure that by now you are quite tired of hearing me say this.”

“What nonsense, Severus! You know perfectly well that I’m always here when you want to talk. It’s not healthy to keep everything bottled up inside.” Severus sat down in the chair next to his professor. He would never admit it, not even to himself but sometimes he felt that without Professor Sprout always there for him, he might not have survived all his trials. From the very first Herbology lesson, when she had instantly become his favorite teacher, she had been there to help him. Even when he had allied himself with the Dark Lord, she had come knocking at his door. She had always brought a basket full of freshly baked muffins with her. They had been coated with dark chocolate. His favorite. Severus flicked his wand and a plate of cakes popped up in front of Professor Sprout.

“Oh! Cakes filled with strawberry jam, my favorites!” Severus smiled at the old woman as she clapped her hands together and dug into the plate of cakes without further invitation. “Now, you better hope this isn’t another attempt to change the subject, Severus?”

“I had thought, Professor, that eating a plate full of cakes would be preferable to hearing the mundane events of my everyday life.” Snape smirked mischievously as he leaned back on his chair, getting comfortable.

“Oh, I can perfectly well do both, child.” Professor Sprout took a large bite out of the cake. Severus watched as her small chestnut brown eyes lit up in approval. He did make a fantastic jam cake. Not that he ever said so aloud. He did have a reputation to uphold.

“I would much rather not dwell on what is upsetting me, Professor.” Snape sighed internally, his good humor at seeing his beloved professor vanishing as he remembered what had just taken place. What was the child doing now? Was he still crying or had he finally fallen asleep?

“Severus, what did you do?”

“And why would you assume I did anything, professor?”

“Because usually when you want to avoid something, it means that you’re covering up guilt.” Severus forced himself to maintain a blank expression. It unsettled him, sometimes, how easily Professor Sprout could read him. He was spying on the darkest wizard the world had ever known. He was supposed to be unreadable!

“You should not be surprised, Professor. You more than anyone else should know what I’m capable of.” Oh, yes, she should. He had told her things that would unsettle the strongest man. He had done things that made what had just passed with Potter seem like a trifle. Sometimes, Severus wondered whether he was wrong to tell her all this, burdening her with his sins. But how could he refuse when she offered so sweetly? The temptation to lighten even a small portion of his burden was just too much.

“Come, Severus, it can’t be that bad. Tell me.” For another second, Severus hesitated. Reluctant to show one of the few people he really cared about how dark his heart really was. It shouldn’t matter. She has heard of sins a thousand times worse than this but still, in the last few years, he had been surprisingly normal. His dark side had lain quiet but with Potter’s arrival last year, it has reared its ugly head. Severus took a deep breathe and told her everything, starting with the nightmares that simply would not leave him alone and ending with Potter crying on the bed.

“… and in conclusion, I am a monster. Of course, I had already known that simple fact years ago but it is rather refreshing to have it confirmed every now and again.”

“Oh, Severus, you are most certainly not a monster!” Professor Sprout exclaimed, placing a comforting hand on his knee. Severus huffed.

“Only a Hufflepuff could ever deny what I truly am.”

“Then, I have never been prouder of being a Hufflepuff. You are not a monster, Severus, and I hate that you think of yourself like that. You are a good person.” Severus snorted internally. Merlin preserve me from Hufflepuff logic!

“The very notion is laughable really but assuming that I am indeed a good person, how do you explain the heartbroken orphan boy?”

“This is hard for you, Severus. I realize that and you should too. Have you looked at yourself in the mirror recently? You have bags under your eyes and you have grown even thinner than usual. Why, you look as if a hearty wind could break you in two? When is the last time you’ve had a good night’s rest?” Severus was grateful beyond words when he felt warm hands enclosing his ice-cold ones in a firm grip. It was true. His mind was groggy with exhaustion but he had never allowed himself to admit it. He hated weakness.

“What do I do, Professor? The poor child needs a father. That is something I cannot be. I cannot even look at him without insulting him. I never mean to! I don’t want to hurt the boy but every time I look at that mess of hair on his head, those abominable round glasses and those maddening features, I just loose all control! What do I do, Professor Sprout?” Severus looked at that face, wearing such a familiar expression of concern and he couldn’t help but believe that she would solve everything. He felt like a small child again, unshaken in his belief that his mother would fix all the hurt in the world.

“Well, Severus. Let me tell you something. I used to be horribly frightened of heights. You couldn’t get me on a broomstick even if my life depended on it.” Severus frowned lightly, wondering were this was going. “My sister, as you know, is an excellent flyer and she wouldn’t stop mocking me about my fear. She used to make chicken sounds whenever I entered the room. It was horrible! One day, I decided that I had enough. I would get over my fear, no matter what. I climbed to the top of the astronomy tower with a broomstick clutched in one hand.”

“Don’t tell me you planned on jumping from the tower when you did not even know how to fly. That would have been an idiotic thing to do.”

“Well, I had thought that if I face my fear head on, I would conquer it, so instead of starting out with something smaller, I thought that jumping out of the tallest tower at Hogwarts was a great idea.” She pointedly ignored Severus’s amused huff. “I mounted my broom and without giving myself time to think, I jumped.”

“Are you quite sure you are not a Gryffindor, professor?”

“Anyway, long story short, if Minerva hadn’t been down there holding her wand, I would have crashed to the ground. You see, I was too frightened to even open my eyes, let alone fly.”

“Let me guess. After this disastrous failure, you never went anywhere near a broomstick again?”

“On the contrary, Severus. I just found a new way to get over my fear of heights. I dealt with my problem gradually. First, learning to look down from the third floor window, then gangling my legs over the ledge of the fifth floor window. I gradually got used to high altitudes and I was able to fly just as high as my annoying sister. Do you understand what I mean, Severus?”

“To be sure, it is a lovely story, Professor, but although I believe that Quidditch is the most useless pastimes invented by man, I have no fear of heights.”

“What I meant, child, is that if you allow yourself to gradually get used to little Harry, you might stop yourself from being completely unsettled by him. you can’t bare to look at him because he awakens dark memories of his father so what if you slowly build new memories centered around Harry, not his father?”

“But I have tried to spend time with him and it did not work. I have found it best to avoid the boy entirely.”

“It didn’t work because you were trying to handle too much. A four hour lesson is not a good idea. It is like jumping from the Astronomy tower.”

“It was Dumbledore’s idea!”

“I know, sweetie, but he was wrong. You need to get used to Harry. A simple breakfast together will be enough for one day. Next day, you might try giving him a brief defense lesson, no more than an hour.”

“But he needs to learn how to defend himself as quickly as possible.” Professor Sprout nodded, giving his long thin fingers a reassuring squeeze.

“I’ll tell you what, Severus. Why don’t I take over the lessons for now? He is still learning the most basic of spells and even I know how to do those. Then, when you and Harry have learned to get along, you’ll take over the lessons again. Meanwhile, get out of the house! Go find your friends. When is the last time you went to visit the Malfoys?”

Severus’s brows knitted as he thought about Professor Sprout’s solution. Gradually getting to know Potter. No, it was Harry. He had to think of him as Harry if he decided to try this out. Would this work or will he just end up hurting the boy again? Can he keep the anger and pain at bay? Severus vowed to himself that he will not make that child cry again. If the dark memories were threatening to return he had to simply get up and leave the room. Maybe, if he tried hard enough, this just might work. What other choice did he have?

“Come on mate, it’s us. You can tell us the truth.” Ron clumsily cut the stalk of the Crystalix flower, his silver knife nearly cutting the flower in two but he didn’t even notice. He simply threw it unceremoniously into the basket and bend down to cut a second. The three of them were out in the garden conducting a practical herbology lesson. Somewhere behind them, watching them closely was Professor Sprout. They kept their voices low, making completely sure not to be overheard.

“I am telling the truth, Ron. Things here aren’t too bad.” Harry cut the stalk of the flower slowly, making sure not to injure the delicate petals. The Crystallix flowers were small and transparent, like little sculptures of glass. Harry had the impression that one wrong touch would shatter them into little shards littering the white pathway that circled the perimeter of the garden. Harry was sorry to cut them. They looked so beautiful swaying in the wind reflecting the green leaves all around them. They sparkled under the sun, separating the white sunlight into all the colors of the rainbow. As he cut, he saw a flash of bright red and deep blue followed by a vibrant yellow. They were truly beautiful, too beautiful to be simply chopped into pieces and dumbed into the bottom of a foul smelling cauldron.

“Are you saying that you and Professor Snape are getting along now?” Hermione asked, oddly frowning at the idea. Harry thought that she, at least, would be glad of the news. Hermione had already finished plucking the flowers and now, she was busy separating the petals with an expert touch. Typical. Even in these extra lessons that were really only meant for Harry she was well ahead of him. She drove the tip of her silver dagger into the heart of the flower without the least hesitant as if she had done this a thousand times before.

“Well, you could say that…” Harry started to defend the professor but he was quickly interrupted.

“Of course not! Who could ever get along with that greasy git?” Ron exclaimed, his knife hacking at the plants with extra violence. The flower dropped to the ground and instantly shattered. Glass shards covered the earth at his feet, ready to prick the first person who come near. He ignored Hermione’s indignant shake of the head. “He’s a death eater for bloody crying out loud. What the hell was Dumbledore thinking sending you here?”

“Oh, Ron, why do you always come to such hasty conclusions?” Hermione whispered, turning around nervously to make sure that the professor was still out of earshot. Professor Sprout was pruning some of the more valuable ingredients, shredding the dried leaves, plucking out weeds that grew in between the tall sturdy stems. She seemed so absorbed in her task that she had completely forgotten the three of them. It was just as well. Ron could never keep his voice down when he got riled up.

“I do have strong doubts about him but nothing is definitely proven yet.” Hermione continued.

“Who needs proof? Everyone knows it. That nutter is the bad guy!” Harry smiled, lightheartedly. He had missed this, the familiar sound of his best friends arguing until both their faces had turned bright red. Hermione trying to be fair and reasonable while Ron just ranted on and on, driven by his anger at the injustice of the world. Harry didn’t even bother to let his voice be heard. What did it matter? When the two of them were at it, they didn’t even hear him.

“We don’t know that for sure! Everyone is innocent until proven guilty.” Hermione countered hotly.

“Calling Snape innocent is like calling a dragon cuddly. Only Hagrid would be thick enough to do that!” Ron exclaimed letting another flower shatter onto the ground. If he continued this way, he would have no ingredients left to prepare. Harry wondered what Professor Snape would think if he knew they were wasting his carefully harvested plants.

“There is no need to jump to conclusions. Yes, Professor Snape is not friendly but that does not make him a death eater.”

“Yeah but that great ugly mark on his arm does.” Ron countered with a very smug expression as if he had proved his point beyond a doubt.

“Oh Ronald, why do you have to bring out that mark every time we have this discussion? We have already gone over this. Professor Snape used to be a death eater but now he is working as a spy for the Order of the Phoenix.” Hermione whispered, always the cautious one. Even in her indignation, she never forgot where she was, a few meters away from a woman who trusted Professor Snape completely.

“Once a death eater, always a death eater!”

“I base my opinions only on facts, not on popular saying, no matter how nice they sound.” Hermione stated reaching out to catch another flower that Ron carelessly let drop.

“We have facts too, Hermione, or have you forgotten about them?” Ron exclaimed indignantly as Hermione yanked the silver dagger from his grasp and started cutting the flowers herself. She couldn’t stand to see the damage of perfectly good potion ingredients just because Ron didn’t know how to channel his anger. Behind them, they could hear the steady clip clip of the shears as Professor Sprout went about gathering the blue tinged leaves often used for sleeping draughts. She was moving closer. Soon she would pass right by them and Harry had the feeling that she would not like this conversation.

“I admit that we have some incriminating evidence against him but it is not enough. We cannot form a valid conclusion from what we have learned. We need more facts.” Harry perked up his ears at Hermione’s words. What incriminating evidence? When had they found out? There was definitely something he was missing here. They had spent the entire morning learning different spells in both charms and transfigurations and although Harry was glad to have his friends there with him, they didn’t have a chance to talk in private. Harry found out that Hermione had spent the last week at the Burrow with Ron but she refused to say what they had been up to. Something against the rules, since they seemed strangely reluctant to speak of it in front of their herbology professor.

“Guys what…?” Harry’s reluctant voice was drowned out by Ron’s sharper words.

“For once I agree with you, Mione. We need to know more. If not, old Dumbledore would never believe us and that greasy git will win.”

“What are the two of you talking about?” Harry exclaimed loudly, trying to get himself heard. Professor Sprout looked up from her work and for a moment, the three of them held their breathe. Don’t come over here. Harry thought crossing his fingers behind him. He really wanted to know what they were talking about. Snape wasn’t evil. He couldn’t be. At least, that is what Harry wanted to believe. He wanted them to get along but there was a doubt in his mind, a feeling that he couldn’t quite shake off. Harry had gone over Snape’s behavior when he told him of the door and he felt that Snape had gotten him exactly where he wanted, storming off angrily and forgetting all about that door. Was there really something behind it, something that Snape didn’t want him to see? Thankfully Professor Sprout only waved a gloved hand at them and continued to chip away at the plants.

“What did you find out?” He asked again, anxious for an answer. Hermione and Ron exchanged a meaningful glance. Harry couldn’t help feeling a pang of jealousy. The thought of the two of them going on adventures completely forgetting about him was not exactly pleasant.

“Harry, we need to tell you something important but I don’t know if we should talk here…” Hermione’s eyes darted to Professor Sprouts back.

“Oh, come on. She can’t hear us. Besides, who knows when we’ll have another chance.” Hermione nodded at Ron’s words and pursing her lips, she started to talk in a very serious tone, something that did not reassure Harry.

“Do you remember the Malfoys, Harry?”

“You mean the pointy faced git who’s always trying to get us expelled. Yeah, I might vaguely remember something about him.” Harry stated sarcastically.

“We’re not only talking about that brat! The whole family is connected with You-Know-Who. Dad even thinks Lucius Malfoy might have been his right hand man. And we definitely know that the Malfoy in our class is a foul git. They are evil, those Malfoys, and Snape along with them.”

“Nobody is doubting the fact that Malfoy senior is a death eater. What I’m saying is that this doesn’t automatically make Professor Snape one too.” Hermione stated, looking very exasperated.

“Hermione is right Ron. Why would that make Snape a death eater?”

“Because of Diagon Alley.” Ron looked at Harry’s blank expression. “Oh, that’s right. We didn’t have a chance to tell you about that either.” Harry shook his head, feeling queasy. Now that they had come to it, Harry didn’t really want to know what they were talking about. Was it really that important to know whether Snape was hiding anything? Everybody had secrets but that does not mean they are working for Voldemort.

“Hermione and I went to Diagon Alley yesterday to check out a pet for her when we saw Snape walking down the road, billowing robes and everything.” Ron picked up a flower from the basket and started twirling it in his hand. The glass petals glistened as they spun around, faster and faster. They clinked together to form a strange melody like that of wind chimes dancing wildly in the harsh wind. “Then, of course we had to follow him.”

“Both of you?” Harry asked astonished. “You spied on a teacher, Hermione?”

“I didn’t like it at all but I had to, Harry. I hope that Professor Snape is not working for You-Know-Who but I can’t know that for sure, not unless I have some definite proof.” Hermione went on. She had suddenly gone very serious. The mild irritation at Ron had given way to real concern. “I will not say that he is a death eater, not without a solid reason but I am still scared, Harry. If he really is working for the dark side then you are in great danger here. You are in his house and if he wanted to, he could hurt you.”

“Don’t worry, Mione. Really, I’m fine here. Snape isn’t exactly easy to live with. He gets angry unexpectedly and he still insults me from time to time but he is getting better. Just this morning, I had an almost normal conversation with him. He did not once hurt me, Hermione. He could have, and I think that sometimes he even wanted to but he didn’t.” Hermione nodded with a small smile but the look of concern never left her eyes.

“Maybe he’s just waiting for You-Know-Who to get stronger so that he can hand you to him and get all the glory.” Ron added.

“It’s really sweet of you guys to look out for me but there’s no need to spy on Snape.”

“There is every need, Harry.” Hermione pointed out firmly. “Believe me, if there was no need, I would not be doing it. You know how much I hate breaking the rules. Spying on someone else goes against everything I believe in but we need to find out the truth. Your safety depends on it.”

“Are you telling me you’ll continue to spy on him?” Harry felt uneasy. Snape was a complicated man, hard to understand and even harder to live with but he didn’t want to throw away the possibility of them growing closer. When Snape spoke about his students Harry had felt the desire to be considered like one of them. He wanted to have someone looking out for him. A silly idea. His friends were right, Snape could be a death eater. Besides they still can’t spend a day together without major drama breaking out. He was being silly but he couldn’t help it, he didn’t want to give Snape a reason to be angry at him.

“Just listen to what we already found out about him and then judge for yourself.” Ron pointed out. Harry nodded and sat up straighter. He really was being silly. If Snape was working for Voldemort, it was Harry’s duty to find out. People’s lives could be put at risk. It’s like Hermione said, he doesn’t like it but he had to do it.

“Go ahead then. Where did Snape go?”

“He went into Knockturn alley where he met Malfoy and another man whose face was completely hidden by a large black hood. Together the three of them entered into a pub. We tried to follow but we couldn’t. There was a magical barrier that protected the place. Whenever we went near the door it glowed red and refused to open.” Hermione said.

“That isn’t really a big deal. You guys told me that Snape is a spy for the Order of the Phoenix. If he’s a spy, wouldn’t he hang out with death eaters to see what they’re up to?” Harry countered.

“That is what I thought, Harry, and I did tell you we didn’t have definite proof. Only bits and pieces that appear suspicious.”

“We have enough to know the truth! Really, Mione, what else do you want? A big sign on his chest saying, ‘Arrest me, I’m a death eater.” Ron shook his head.

“Anyway, after we saw him with Malfoy in Knockturn alley we thought of a way to find out more about their connection.” Hermione continued, shooting a glare in Ron’s direction.

“We tried asking my Dad but he didn’t know anything and he didn’t like us asking questions about Snape so we tried this other bloke, Mr. Lowald. He’s one of Dad’s close friends from work. He has been working for forty years in the Department of magical law enforcement so we hoped he’d know something about Snape’s crimes.” Ron continued. “It turns out, we were more than right. We didn’t ask him why but it’s obvious that this guy hates Snape even more than we do. I think that he knew Snape better than he let on.”

“Harry, Snape has a criminal record. A very long criminal record. He has been through many different trials but he was found innocent every time.” Hermione said, lowering her voice to a nearly inaudible whisper. Professor Sprout has moved closer, the steady rhythm of the shears the only thing keeping their voices from reaching her ears.

“He was tried more than once?” Harry asked, curious despite himself to know something about the man’s past.

“Oh, yeah. He has been charged with so many crimes, it’s hard to remember even half of them.” Ron scrunched up his face, trying to recall what he had heard. "Experimenting with dangerous potions, using the unforgiveables, kidnapping, using dark magic, messing around with people’s minds and even poisoning a few poor blokes. And there was a heck of a lot more too.”

“That definitely is a big list.” Harry turned towards his basket of ingredients and picked up a flower. He had to cut it right along the middle and extract the seeds without damaging the petals. A hard task, something that required great concentration, something that Harry was only too glad to give. This conversation was making him highly uneasy. “But didn’t you say he was found innocent of the crimes.”

“Yes he was but only because Lucius Malfoy was his lawyer and, as we said before, he has a lot of power and influence. Mr. Lowald says that the evidence against Professor Snape was overwhelming but most of the Wizengamot were too afraid to speak out for fear of their lives.” Hermione stated, watching Harry closely. She looked worried as if she could sense the turmoil in her friend’s mind. She had always been very perceptive.

“I thought it was Dumbledore who kept him out of Azkaban.” Harry carefully sliced through the flowers. A deep red juice seeped out of it and flowed onto his fingers. He had forgotten to put on his gloves. The juice stuck onto his fingers making them sticky and uncomfortable.

“There was one trial which was worse than all the rest put together. He and three of his fellow death eaters were accused of torturing a man who had been a valiant member of the Order of the Phoenix. They used the cruciatus curse until he were driven to madness. After they were done with him, they tortured his wife until she was begging for death. Then they locked the doors and set fire to the building leaving the two of them to roast to death.” The silver knife slipped from Harry’s fingers and tumbled to the ground, its sharp point leaving a small cut on his leg. Harry didn’t even notice the pain. His head was spinning with the image of a woman screaming while fire licked at her skin, melting it away.

“Professor Snape and the three other death eaters were arrested and it looked like they would be sentenced to life imprisonment in Azkaban. This time, not even the great Lucius Malfoy could help him, no matter how hard he tried. Then Dumbledore appeared. He said that Professor Snape had been with the death eaters only as a spy for the light side. He stated that Professor Snape was unfortunately unable to save the family since he was outnumbered three to one. Then he vouched for his potions master, saying that he would never commit such a crime. The people believed him. After all, the most powerful light wizard had proclaimed his innocence. Nobody thought to doubt him.”

“But then he must be innocent! Dumbledore wouldn’t just lie. If he said that Snape was innocent then he probably was.” Harry exclaimed.

“I don’t know, Harry. Professor Snape has been tried for so many crimes. He can’t just be innocent all the time and the worst part is, the trials didn’t stop after the family burned. Only three months after that major trial he was accused again of poisoning a man, every scrap of evidence pointing towards him.” Hermione sighed. She closed her basket with a snap. Her work was done. Seeds and petals were resting neatly inside two separate containers.

“Weren’t you the one who was trying to say that Snape was innocent, Hermione?” Harry pointed out.

“No. I was only saying that we have no definite proof that he is a death eater, not yet at least. All we have are theories and conjectures. I don’t want to believe that a man Professor Dumbledore trusts so completely could be evil. It seems unlikely that he would’ve made such a big error of judgment but…” Hermione bit her lip thoughtfully. It was odd seeing her so conflicted. “What I heard from Mr. Lowald was very disquieting.”

“Dumbledore can make mistakes. He let a man with You-Know-Who sticking out the back of his head teach Defense,” said Ron. “Who’s to say he didn’t make the same mistake with Snape? The man’s a sadistic evil bastard, everybody knows that. Dumbledore is just wrong this time. If you ask me, he’s getting too old for his job.”

“I think I’ll interrupt you there.” A voice right behind them called out. All three of them jumped to their feet and turned around, their guilt written all over their faces. Professor Sprout was looking at them oddly, a plant clutched on one hand and a scissor in the other. Dirt marked every inch of her, from her gardening boots to the grey hair on her head. Harry gulped, shuffling his feet awkwardly. How much had she heard? Did she know that they had been spying on Snape?

“Are you three finished separating the Crystallix flowers?” She said evenly. There was no trace of a smile on her face.

“I am.” Hermione’s voice was more high pitched than usual but it was steady. “Ron has just finished cutting the flowers and Harry is halfway through separating the parts.” Professor Sprout nodded once. They had never seen her look so serious. It made Harry squirm with discomfort.

“I think that’ll be enough for today. Let’s go back inside. It’s going to rain soon. These large grey clouds don’t seem very friendly.” Without another word she led them away from the small hedged in garden they had been working in. They followed the twisting pathways, passing through different gardens all decked with strange plants growing in neat lines and circles. Soon they had lost all sense of direction. They just followed in their silent professor’s wake, not daring to open their mouths. Harry wanted to speak and apologize but he wasn’t sure how much she had heard or why she was this upset. She seemed more sad than angry as she walked slowly along the road, not looking left or right. Was she sad that they had spied on her colleague or that they didn’t trust Dumbledore? Is it possible she had heard something about Snape that upset her? Harry couldn’t tell what the matter was. He tried to catch Hermione’s eye but she was looking straight ahead, her chin high and her lips pursed. She looked oddly determined as she walked with her basket dangling from her arm and her locks of brown hair bouncing all around her head.

They arrived at room where Harry had first seen the four of them emerge out of the fireplace. It had only been a few hours ago but it seemed a lifetime away. They had all been filled with smiles and laughter but now, only solemn faces were seen. Hermione was still looking as impenetrable as stone while Ron just looked plain uncomfortable. He kept clearing his throat and shuffling his feet. He didn’t seem to know what to do with his arms either. He kept moving them, crossing them over his chest one moment, only to join them behind his back the next.

“Well, kids. It’s time you two went home.” She looked weary as she took the basket from Harry’s hand and moved towards the fireplace. They were leaving. This soon. Harry felt a lump in his throat. He didn’t want his friends to ever leave. An impractical idea but it didn’t prevent him from wishing they would remain by his side, at least for a little longer. He had a lot to digest and their friendly words would’ve been a great help. Harry forced himself to speak, to attempt to make things right.

“Professor, I’m sorry about what you overheard at the garden.” Harry stated, willing Professor Sprout to be more open than Snape. “We shouldn’t have been saying those stuff about Professor Snape. You don’t have to leave early, professor.”

“Oh, Harry.” Professor Sprout gave him a sad little smile. “I’m not leaving because of what I heard you kids saying. Your friends and I only meant to stay until dinner, I told you that when we first came here. Molly will be waiting for them to come home with the table already set. It wouldn’t do to keep her waiting.”

“Oh, I didn’t know it was that late.” Harry said, feeling slightly foolish. “So you’re not angry about earlier?”

“I more sad than angry, Harry. Professor Snape leads a very hard life, constantly risking his life for the light side. The least he deserves is a bit of respect. I know well that students talk ill of him behind his back and it always makes me unhappy. He is a good man at heart but there are not many who see this.”

“But he has done…” Ron interjected.

“That does not matter, Ron. It does not matter who he has been but who he is now. He does his best to protect all his students from coming to harm and what does he get in return? Scorn, distrust, even hatred. Does that sound fair to you?” They were silent. What could they say to that?

“I don’t think I need to remind you of the number of times he tried to save your life last year, Harry. I think that adding to the cruel rumors that are already flying around the castle is a bad way to repay him.”

“But he’s not…” Ron’s words turned into a groan of pain as Hermione elbowed him in the ribs, hard.

“We’re sorry, professor.” Hermione stated but her determined expression hadn’t changed. She was a girl on a mission and no amount of honey coated words would change that.

“I know you don’t mean any harm, dears.” Professor Sprout gave them a genuine smile. Her checks covered with patches of dirt were flushed pink from the chill outside air. “He can be a little scary sometimes but that doesn’t make him a bad person. Professors Dumbledore, McGonagall, Flitwick, Hagrid and not to mention myself completely trust him and we have good reason to. I can’t tell you the reasons since it deals with his private life but just for once, can’t you trust us, Harry. After all, we know him much better than you do.”

“Yes, professor.” The trio stated in unison, their voices little more than a whisper.

“Well,
we’d best be going, dears. Goodbye Harry. We’ll be seeing you on Monday.”
“Bye, professor.” She threw the white powder into the fireplace and the flames hissed in protest, their color turning emerald green. She stepped into the fireplace and yelled ‘The Burrow.’ With a wave and a smile, her body shimmered out of sight, leaving the three of them alone in the room, if only for an instant. Hermione turned around suddenly and placed a hand on each of Harry’s shoulder. Her chocolate brown eyes pierced through him, strong and sharp as ever.

“Harry, we cannot stop this. We need to learn more about Professor Snape’s personal life.”

“But…” Harry was shocked. He was certain that after Professor Sprout’s words they would let it go.

“No ‘but’s. The three of us need to work together and make a plan to gain more information about him.” Hermione said firmly, her gaze still fixed on his face.

“You mean you still want to spy on him.” Harry certainly did not like where this was going.

“Yes, Harry, that is exactly what I mean. Trust me, I do not want to do this and until I have definite proof, I will not believe that Professor Snape is working for the dark side. However, we must consider the possibility that it might be true and if it is, we need to get you out of here, fast.”

“She’s right, mate. The greasy git could be dangerous.” Ron interjected.

“But guys, this is Snape we’re talking about. What do you want to do? Bug him, follow him into death eater meetings? That’s dangerous and probably not very useful. Snape is much more powerful than we are and he’s extra paranoid. He has protective spells on everything. There’s no way to spy on the man.” Harry didn’t mention the other reason why he was so reluctant. He didn’t tell them how he had begun to trust Snape even more than Dumbledore. They’d think he was mental if they knew that if Harry wanted the plain truth, the first person he would consider asking was Snape.

“I don’t how, Harry, but there is always a way. We will find it.” Harry was astonished at Hermione’s strength of will. Usually they had to practically drag her along if they wanted to break the rules but now their roles had reversed. It was Harry that drew back as Hermione pursued the truth, heedless of any danger. Hermione must have sensed his thoughts because suddenly she was answering them.

“So many people that have dared to come close to Snape have ended up dead or tortured or even insane. I’m terrified, Harry, that you might be the next victim. You won’t be just another victim. I will not let that ever happen to you.” Her eyes were watery all of a sudden. Harry felt a warm surge of affection for Hermione. All his life, he had been alone and it was in moment like these that he realized how lucky he was to have such loyal friends. They were probably wrong and they could get him in big trouble with Snape but right now that didn’t seem to matter. All that mattered was that they cared enough for him to go through such lengths to ensure his safety.

“We’re just looking out for you, mate.” Ron thumped him on the back.

“I know, guys.” He smiled at them and gave Hermione a brief hug. “I hope there’s nothing to worry about but I’ll keep an eye out for anything suspicious.”

“And watch out for ours letters, Harry. When we find out more information about him, we’ll send you an owl.” Hermione said, moving to the fireplace and lifting a handful of floo powder from the grey pot sitting on the mantelpiece. The dust slipped between her fingers and slithered onto the carpet in a fine trickle. “We think that it will be dangerous to send information openly in case Professor Snape might read your letters so we’ll be using invisible ink.”

“But we can’t use magic outside of school. How am I supposed to read it?” Harry said. Hermione threw the powder onto the flames, calmly but clearly stating her destination.

“I’m talking about the muggle version of invisible ink. In other words, lemon juice. We’ll be writing any compromising information on the envelope itself and the letter will just be about normal things.”
“If Snape gets suspicious, he’ll just examine the letter. He probably wouldn’t give a second thought to the envelope. That’s brilliant, Hermione!” She smiled as a faint flush crept across her cheeks. The three of them exchanged a brief goodbye and then, entirely too quickly in Harry’s opinion, his friends were gone, transported far away by the hissing flames. The sudden quiet that descended once more on the house seemed to close in on Harry, bringing him a sense of deep unease, reminding him forcefully of what he had learned today. The picture of the burning woman returned to his mind with a vengence.

Two hours have passed but Harry hadn’t moved from the room. He sat on the orange armchair and stared at the flames, now turned back to their ordinary color. An ancient clock that looked like it belonged to Victorian times ticked away the seconds. Its sharp sound loud and clear in the room where only the occasional hiss of the flames made any sound. The sharp point of the minute hand moved with little jerks around the pale face of the clock. Everything else was completely still. In a house large enough to hold dozens of families, the absence of life felt like a heavy blow. Outside, empty rooms and empty hallways waited only for him. Harry didn’t want to move. He didn’t want to go away from the warmth of the fire and the place where two hours ago his friends had stood.

The silence was too much to bare. It occurred to him how many people took sounds completely for granted. Sounds were everywhere. Even when someone thought that there was nothing to be heard, it wasn’t entirely true. There was the rustle of leaves outside the window, the rush of cars on the road or even the muffled conversations of the neighbors that penetrated the thick walls of most houses. When all else failed, there was at least the wind to kept one company. But here, it was not so. The silence was absolute as if this place existed in a parallel universe away from the rest of humanity. At least in this room there was the crackling of the flames and the tick tock of the clock. If he took one step outside, even that would disappear.

Harry wondered who had lived in this house before Snape had come to bring further gloom to its halls. He knew that this wasn’t originally Snape’s house. It had been assigned to him long ago by Dumbledore to use as a hideout from both the death eaters and the Order of the Phoenix. To whom has this house once belonged? Surely it was too big to belong to a single family. Perhaps once, long ago, this has been a hotel crowded with people going in and out of the dozens of doors. Perhaps sounds of laugher and the tap of children’s shoes as they ran along the corridor had filled the entire estate. Somehow, Harry doubted it very much. This house shrouded entirely in black and grey could never have been the place of laughter. The banister, the floors, the walls and even the carpets were the same polished black or dark grey, with no trace of color anywhere. That could simply have been Snape’s choice of decorations but the banisters carved with the heads of fierce creatures, the rooftop ending in a sharp spike and the small windows carved deep into the walls suggested that this place had always been gloomy and frightening. The very walls seemed to be impregnated by memories filled with sadness and anger. Whatever history surrounded this place was surely not a pleasant one.

Harry sighed and plunged his hands deep into the pocket of his robes. Right now, this house seemed more ominous than ever. Maybe that was because he couldn’t stop thinking about Hermione’s words. Murder. That was a very heavy word, something Harry couldn’t quite get his mind around. Maybe Snape was really innocent of most of these crimes but maybe not. He had chosen the dark mark after all, knowing well what he would be expected to do. They killed. They tortured. They hurt those who were weaker than them. Surely Snape, who had once been a member of this sadistic group, had committed such heinous crimes. And even if he was now working for the light side, it didn’t alter his dark past.

Can a murderer really change? Can such crimes ever be forgiven? What about the people whose lives have been cut short? What about their families and loved ones who have to carry the weight of their lose for the rest of their lives? Maybe there were children like him out there whose parents had died at Snape’s hands. If Lily and James Potter had died because of Snape, would Harry have considered simply forgiving him? Harry felt really tired and confused. He could feel the start of a headache pounding at the back of his head. Why did everything involving Snape have to be so damn complicated? Harry wished once more that he hadn’t been put into this situation. He would’ve had such a simple summer full of laughter with nothing but his homework to worry about if he had only stayed at the Burrow. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley were such simple but wonderful people whose goodness could never be doubted. If only he was with them.

Harry sighed and got up. It was getting late. He didn’t really feel like eating so he supposed he could go directly to his bed. If he stayed down here, there was a bigger changed of running into Snape and that was about the last thing Harry wanted right now. He didn’t know what to say to the man. He had never been very good at hiding his feelings. Harry buttoned up his jacket and threw the hood over his head, ready to fight the chill of the corridors. He went out of the living room, closing the door slowly behind him but the sound still echoed loudly in the still house. He hummed a tune to himself as he walked forward along the hallway guarded by a double flank of doors. A few off key notes hung in the air before being absorbed by the silence around him. He thought his soft humming might defeat the silence but it did not. His voice died down into nothing and he walked on quietly, wishing his friends were here.

Some part of him even wanted Snape to be here and talk to him the way he had this morning, his words of biting truth a relief after a flood of lies and word games. He remembered the way his lips twitched upwards in a smile that he didn’t quiet manage to smooth away. He remembered Snape offering to bring stuff for him and his attempts to ease the discomfort between them. Professor Sprout was right, all through last year, Snape had gone out of his way to save Harry. Was that person really capable of murder? Harry didn’t know.

Harry had nearly passed that particular door when he suddenly remembered his argument with Snape. The way he had stopped Harry from opening that door with nothing but his sharp words. Harry stood still and looked again at the silver handle he hadn’t had the courage to open. He pricked his ears and tried to listen but not a single sound could be heard. Whatever might have been there was quiet now. Before he could overthink it, Harry extended his hand and turned the handle. With a single shove he opened the door wide, letting it bang against the wall. An empty bedroom that had fallen into disarray met his eyes. Harry peeped inside, his eyes scanning every corner of the room for any sign of movement. No one was there. Whatever had caused that noise had moved onto a better hiding place. Still, Harry wanted to be completely sure.

He stepped into the room and looked around. He lifted the bedsheets and glanced under the bed. Nothing. He looked for any other hiding place but the room was strangely empty. No cupboards, no chairs or tables. Only the usual dull grey walls. Something white at the base of the wall caught Harry’s eye. He bent down and saw a series of lines cut into the cement with a very shape object. There were vertical scratches with a diagonal line cutting across a group of them. Numbers. Someone had crouched there, once, and carved these perfectly straight and vertical lines, each one parallel to the next and always evenly spaced. Slowly, they had been counting. The scratches went around the entire perimeter of the room twice. Harry didn’t try to count them. It would’ve taken him far too long. He wondered how long it had taken to carve these and what purpose they had. Un unpleasant suspicion was creeping into his mind but he shook his head and looked up, away from that bizarre decoration. More lines met his eyes. These were at the base of the small barred window.

When he moved closer Harry saw that the lines by the window were different. While the others had been straight lines cut with a certain precision and steadfast purpose, these were scattered all over the place with unevenly jumbling together to form a desperate mess. These were deep scratches as if someone had stood there, exactly were Harry was now standing, and tried desperately to claw his way out of that minuscule window. They had failed. The solid iron bars on the window remained strong as ever, completely unaffected by the pathetic attempt at escape. The suspicion he had tried to banish resurfaced and this time, it would not be banished. Someone had been locked up in this very room, desperately seeking a way out. Harry gulped, wondering what the hell he had gotten himself into. Had Snape held someone prisoner in this place or had these marks existed before he even stepped foot on these premises. Were they a part of the dark history surrounding this building?

He walked out quickly, closed the door with a snap and made his way back to his room without any more interruptions. He didn’t even glance at the other doors as he strode past them. He went straight down the corridor until he came across the entrance hall and the flights of stairs that led directly into his bedroom. He took the steps two at a time, wanting badly to lock himself up in his room and stay there. When he finally reached the safety of his bedroom he was panting hard. He closed his eyes and leaned back against the door, his head lightly hitting the wooden surface. Who was it? Who had been trapped in that room? Why? Was it Snape’s doing? The headache was now in full swing. It throbbed at his temple and Harry reached out a weary hand to massage his forehead. Could Hermione and Ron have been right all along?

He sighed and decided that he would think about that later. Perhaps when this infernal headache allowed him some space to think. He remembered stuffing some aspirin into his school trunk some time ago, a few tablets nicked from the Dursley’s bathroom cupboard. He opened his eyes and made to reach his trunk but he stopped dead in the middle of the room. Right in the center of his bed stood a large black chest, nearly as big as Harry’s school trunk. A complex pattern of red vines crept along the borders of the chest, giving the impression that it was bleeding. Harry had once read the story “the Warlock’s Hairy Heart” and this looked exactly like the kind of container used to trap that warped and twisted mockery of a heart.

For a moment Harry considered simply leaving it there. Who knows what could lay inside it? But then he realized how ridiculous he was being. If Snape wanted to harm him, he could just hex him at any moment or even poison his food, a much more practical way to attack him than to place a suspicious looking chest on his bed and wait for Harry to open it. That wasn’t exactly a comforting thought but at least it made the chest look a lot less suspicious.

He sighed and cautiously made his way to the bed. He spent a moment eyeing the container wearily and his distorted reflection looked back at him from the polished surface of the chest. He took out his wand and gripped it tight. He didn’t really know any spells to counter any form of attack but the feel of the wood under his fingertips was comforting all the same. He placed his hands on either side of the chest and taking a deep breathe, opened it with a single push, his muscles tensed to run at the slightest sign of trouble. But he needn’t have worried so much. The chest contained a navy blue cloth folded up neatly to cover what lay under it. On top of the cloth sat a faded yellow envelope with neat and elegant words written on it. “To Mr. Harry Potter.” It read.

Well, that is certainly odd. Who could have written him a letter and placed it inside a huge chest? It couldn’t have been Snape. If he wanted to talk to Harry he could just walk upstairs and knock on his door. What possible reason would he have to write to Harry? Still, no one else could have come into his room without noticing. Harry broke the seal on the envelope and took out the letter and with growing curiosity he began to read:

Dear Mr. Potter,

I am writing this letter in an attempt to explain myself to you. I’m not a man given to explaining my emotions neither in writing nor in speaking, but I do believe that writing is the lesser of the two evils. You are now my ward and I have vowed that I shall try my best to get along with you. At breakfast today, it seemed that everything was working out. I felt more at ease in your presence that I can ever remember being but it ended in a different note. I admit that it is my fault for snapping at you for no particular reason and I apologize. I do not consider you worthless or silly. You are a reasonably bright child for your age. Not, of course, as bright as Miss Granger but much more intelligent than Mr. Weasley. Granted, that is not much of a compliment given that not many people are less adapted to intellectual pursuits than him, but it is as much as I’m willing to give. I’m sure that by now you realize that I rarely compliment anyone. I know that this makes me a dull companion but a man cannot change his nature.

I have told you this before and I tell you this again. I do not hate you. Your father and I were school enemies much like Draco and yourself. You just look so much like your father that, at times, I feel brief flashes of anger. I know that this is not your fault and that I am being unfair but I just cannot seem to help myself. There were past events involving your father that I am unable to simply overlook. I cannot tell you what they are but suffice to say that anything related to Gryffindor house reminds me of these unfortunate events. That is the reason why I did not greet your idea of painting Gryffindor lions on the wall with any enthusiasm. You are a Gryffindor; therefore, it is only natural that you should wish to show your support for your house. If lions is what you wish to paint, then so be it; however, I do ask you to limit any such decorations to the interior of your room.

I am well aware of what you and the other students think of me. I am an unpleasant teacher. Although this is in part due to my position as a spy, I cannot deny that I am a demanding teacher with a tendency to be harsh with those incapable of brewing the most basic potions or of completing an acceptable homework assignment. I am far from perfect. Unlike most of the people you know, I am not a good man. I am distrustful, bitter, solitary, vengeful and impatient. I was once a death eater. That should give you a clue as to my real character. I have a dark heart, child, and the one thing I cannot be is a father.

But I think that maybe I am not completely dark. There might be a light side of me hidden somewhere that has led me to become a member of the Order of the Phoenix. I want so hard to try and give you want you deserve. If not a father, I hope that in time I can be a fair teacher, someone you can talk to when you are in trouble. I am improving slowly but it will take time. Sometimes I will fail and get angry with you for no particular reason. I ask you to be patient and not take my sharp words too much to heart. I do not mean them. I am aware that this is too much to ask from an eleven year old child. I am the adult, the one who is supposed to be fair and patient. I am sorry, child, that I cannot be that person. Have patience and everything will be alright. Give me until at most the end of this summer and I promise you that I will show you I am not all dark. Despite my past, I will do my best to take care of you.

Yours Sincerely,

Professor Snape

P.S. Should you be in need of anything do not hesitate to ask. If I find it a reasonable request, I shall endeavor to grant it.

To say that Harry was shocked is an understatement. Snape has apologized for snapping at him. That is certainly something he never thought would happen. He sank down to sit on the edge of the bed and read the letter over again, trying to sort out the jumble of thoughts in his head. Twice, thrice he read it but he was still confused. What evil deeds has this man committed? Arson. Torture. Murder. How could these things just be forgotten. “I am not a good man,” he admits, almost as if in direct response to Harry’s thoughts. What was he supposed to do with that? How could Harry be patient and try to get along with an evil man? “Maybe I am not completely dark.” Could that be true? Would it be enough? Somehow, Harry wanted it to be. Despite everything that he had learned, Harry wanted to like Snape and trust him and that thought scared him more than anything. This letter was really not helping his headache any. Where was Hermione when you needed her? She was the expert when it comes to moral dilemmas and emotional problems. He smiled slightly at the thought of Hermione but one glance at the letter made all the confusion resurface.

He couldn’t deal with this now. He folded the letter and placed it carefully back in its envelope. Then, he stuffed it into his school truck and moved back to the chest, wondering what else was inside. He took out the navy blue cloth which turned out to be a pretty snug hoodie with a white dragon painted in the middle. For me? Harry thought incredulously. It turns out that today is just jam packed with surprises. Under the hoodie, he found other cloths, both muggle and wizard. With careful hands, Harry took out one item of clothing after another, staring at each and every one in complete awe. There were so many items in the chest that by the time he had taken everything out, his bed was strewn with brand new cloths in all types and colors. Among other things he found robes, jeans, shirts and pajamas. There were even a pair of trainers that were a perfect fit. Harry felt a strange lump in his throat as he put them on, tying the white laces with fumbling fingers. Nobody had ever given him this much.

He almost missed the last gift, the large wooden box sitting quietly at the bottom of the trunk. It was made of a dark brown wood that blended perfectly with the interior of the chest, making it nearly invisible. Harry reached down slowly and took it out into the light. It was simple but elegant box with black designs crawling along the borders and a golden leaf shaped clasp on the front. It was bigger than Harry had first thought, nearly half the size of the chest. It must be magical to have held this box along with all these cloths, packed and folded neatly just for Harry. Its golden latch clicked as he slowly opened it, feeling as if he had landed in an alternate reality.

Inside, there were tubes of paint in every color imaginable. There were the simple primary colors but alongside them were the metallic colors, glistening brightly through the half transparent tubes. There was gold and silver and so many more. Paintbrushes sat in a separate compartment together with a wooden pallet. There were also curious tubes filled with translucent liquids each with different labels. Harry bent down to read a few. “Invisibility inducing”, “glow in the dark”, “shifting color” were printed over three tubes with liquids swaying gently on the inside. It was fantastic, more than Harry had ever imagined. He could paint anything with these. They looked incredibly expensive and Snape hadn’t even taken his key. He had simply gone out and bought these things just for Harry. Nobody had ever done that. He had never received cloths bought especially for him, not to mention such an expensive gift as this.

What had Harry done to deserve this? Nothing. At the Dursleys, he had worked all day long and done everything he was asked to do only to be hated and ignored. Here he had done nothing but think ill of his professor and make plans to spy into his personal life and he gets such splendid gifts. He felt so incredibly guilty. Snape really was trying to get along with him and make amends for his snappish tone. It was Harry who was trying to ruin everything this time. He should just let Snape’s past rest undisturbed and focus on the present. Snape was not evil now, that is all that mattered. And yet, the image of the husband and wife burning while their bodies were weak from torture simply would not leave his mind. Maybe Dumbledore was right. Maybe Snape really was innocent and it was he that was being the fool. Just like the time he suspected Snape of trying to steal the philosopher’s stone. What did he know of such matters? Surely Dumbledore was wiser than him and knew who to trust.

Harry slipped into his new pajamas. The woolen cloth was warm and comfortable against his skin, much more than his old worn out pair. Snape can’t just be plain evil. If only there was a way for him to find out if he really did kill that family. If only he knew that these gifts were not just a way to alley his suspicions and make him feel secure, another move with an ulterior motive. He just wanted the plain truth. Was that too much to ask?

He needed to do something. If this was anyone else but Snape, he would just walk right up to them and tell him exactly what he felt. He wished so badly that he could just talk to the man but Snape was just so bloody unpredictable. Then, a sudden idea came to him. He could take a page out of Snape’s book and write a letter, explaining everything. A perfect solution. Quickly, he took out a quill and parchment out of his trunk and sitting on his table, started to write his response to Snape’s letter.

Dear Professor Snape,

I don’t understand you. From the first moment I saw you, you were this incredibly mean teacher who I thought was out to get me. I saw the way you looked at me. Hatred was written so plainly on your face that it was impossible to miss. You didn’t even know me but you already hated me. That was completely unfair. I didn’t do anything to deserve your intense dislike. I am not the smartest or the mort respectful kid but I’m not so bad, unlike a lot of other students in your class. Still, you hated me worse than everybody else just because I was alive. After the first potions class, I thought you were just like the Dursleys. In fact, I remember thinking that you and my Aunt Petunia would make a wonderful team.

All through the year the three of us kept an eye on you, thinking that you were trying to steal the stone. After all, it made sense. You were the most unpleasant and unfair teacher in the entire school, favoring your students even when they were clearly at fault. It made sense for you to be the bad guy and then I learn you were just trying to keep me alive. That made no sense at all. I asked Dumbledore about it and he gave me an explanation but it just did not feel like the right one. There was more to it than that. When I was in that chamber, listening to Quirrel’s explanations, I realized that I did not know you at all.

And now here I am. I have lived in your house for weeks but I still do not understand you. You say that you do not hate me, only my father. In some ways, that is even worse. I can’t understand how anyone can hate my father, the hero. I know that I have many faults but James Potter was not like me, he was better. He was smart and a great flyer. (I know this is true since I’ve checked his school records. He had amazing grades, much better than mine.) He was so brave, sacrificing himself for his family and standing up to Voldemort even though he knew it would put his life in danger. So many people have known and loved him. What could possibly make you hate him so much? He is a hero. In some ways, the complete opposite of you. You followed Voldemort, you make people hate you, you look just plain frightening. Is that why you hate him so much? Because he was a better man than you? Is that true? Maybe that isn’t true. Maybe something bad did happen, something that would justify all this hatred, a hatred so deep that you can’t even look at his son without anger. Tell me what happened. How can I be patient and just brush off all your anger when I don’t even why it’s there in the first place? Tell me the truth, professor. I deserve to know. What is it about my father that you hate so much?

I shouldn’t like you. I respect my parents and I hate it when people insult them. It is the one thing I can’t stand. You hate my father so I should be loyal to him and hate you too. But the thing is, I don’t. You saved my life and I liked the man I saw for just a little while this morning. Now, you send me this letter of apology and give me fantastic gifts that just make me like you even more. But the thing is, I shouldn’t. You’re a death eater. I know people say that you aren’t one now but is that really true? If a murderer kills people and then one day decides to stop, does he stop being a murderer? Will he not be guilty for the people he already killed? Does a man ever stop being a death eater.

Today I found out something about you. You went on trial for torturing a man and wife and then burning them alive. Is it true? Dumbledore thinks it isn’t so maybe it’s not. Then what about the man you were accused of poisoning with so much evidence against you? Did you do that or are you innocent of that too? I found a room in this house where it looks like someone was held prisoner for a very long time. Did you do that? Is that what my so called guardian is capable of? No wonder you hate my father. An evil man can’t stand a good one. It’s as simple as that. Everything fits perfectly if not for this letter you wrote me and the gifts you bought and the way you are trying so hard to like me. These things do not fit into the whole evil murderer concept. What am I supposed to do with these acts of kindness you show me? How can I like a criminal? You said it yourself, “I am not a good man.” How can you expect me to care for an evil man? It just doesn’t make any sense. You don’t make any sense. I wish you’d just be honest with me and tell me about your past. Did you hurt people? Why did you do it? If I knew the truth, then maybe I could understand and know for certain if I should give you a chance. Maybe you’ll think that this is none of my business but how can it not be? I live under your roof, isn’t it my right to know if I’m being adopted by a criminal? You asked me to come to you if I needed anything. I can’t do that, I can’t trust you until I know what you are capable of.

And the worst part is that even now when I have so many doubts in my mind and I know I shouldn’t, I have grown to like you. I hope so much that you really are innocent of all those crimes. I want us to get along, I want you to take care of me as if I was your own student. I hate that I’m so needy and pathetic. One civil word and a few gifts are all it took to make me think well of you. If I were truly my father’s son, good to the very bone, then I shouldn’t even want to excuse a death eater’s behavior. This is how I know that I will never be as good as James Potter.

Unwillingly yours,

Harry Potter

Harry finished scribbling his name at the end of his letter and sat back on his chair, stunned. A drop of ink dripped onto the corner of the page, a small black spot appeared just where he had signed his name. He twirled the golden tip of his quill as he reread his letter, not noticing when black ink smudged his fingers and seeped into the edge of his nails. His eyebrows were draw together as he read, surprised at his own words. He hadn’t meant to write all this. In truth, when he had taken out the quill and ink, he hadn’t really known what he’d write, only that he had to do something. Now, there they were, all this doubts and feelings written out plainly on a sheet of paper.

This is what bothered him, the fact that he had started to like Snape when he knew he shouldn’t. Harry passed a hand through his hair in a familiar gesture, trying to get his unruly locks to stay neat. It did feel good to vent his feelings in some way. Of course, he knew that he couldn’t send this letter to Snape. Forget about getting angry, the man would kill him, death eater or not. Harry was brave and sometimes he was honest to a fault but he was not that stupid. This letter could never be sent. He folded the letter and stuffed it into one of the thick books sitting on the table. He put the chest on the ground and flopped back onto the bed feeling utterly exhausted. It has been a long and weird day and his mind felt heavy with the weight of everything he had learned.

Harry gingerly extracted the board game from its cardboard box and laid it on the transparent table. He was sitting cross legged on the floor beside the low table while Snape was sitting on a stiff wooden chair, staring down at the board with a mild sneer curving his lips. Playing a board game had been entirely Harry’s idea. He must’ve been crazy to suggest it but during breakfast they had both agreed that they should try a bonding activity to get them closer together. This idea was the only one available so Snape had reluctantly agreed.

The fireplace was filled with orange flames, though considerably dimmer than the ones in the Gryffindor common room. Still, it was better than those infernal globes that had as much light as a single firefly. Snape had his back to the fire as he picked up one of the playing pieces. It was shaped like a fierce dragon and when the game started it would actually start to move. It could fly around the board or hop from one square to another. Maybe it if was in the right mood, it could even spit real flames. Harry picked a Griffin for himself before unfolding the board onto the table. It had been a Christmas gift from Ron, something that once belonged to his brother Percy. Harry privately suspected that Ron had given this to him because he was tired of always loosing this game to the highly talented Fred and George. Harry loved the gift anyway. 

The board was a large square surface with a worn out pathway drawn into it, a path that meandered through forests and meadows. Little squares divided the path into equal segments and both the dragon and the griffin were placed on the square marked with a big red zero. The moment the figurines touched the square they came to life. The griffin opened its wings and fluttered them excitedly, ready to begin his adventure. Snape’s dragon, on the other hand, let out a big snore and curled up on the board, burying its snout under its large green wings. It looked about as happy to start this game as Snape was. 

“Well, it is time you explained the rules of what appears to be a thoroughly childish game.” Snape leaned back on his chair with a long suffering sigh. Harry smiled to himself, suspecting that Snape wouldn’t stay uninterested for long. He buried his hands inside the sleeves of his brand new jumper and cleared his throat, ready to begin.

“This game is called Liar and basically the goal of the game is to lie successfully. The best liar wins.” That definitely caught Snape’s attention. He looked at Harry and arched a single neat eyebrow.

“On each turn, you have to take a card from the yellow pile over here.” Harry pointed at a large pile of cards sitting at the center of the board. “You have to flip it over and there’s a simple question on the back. You have to answer the question with either a lie or the truth and my job is to guess which one it is. After I guess, you must press this button in the center and it will show whether your words were true or false. There’s a mild lie detection spell on it. If I’ve guessed correctly, then I move up one square but if I’ve guessed wrong you move up one square. Next, it’s my turn to answer the question and you must guess if I’m lying or not. We continue the game like this until one of us gets to the finish line and the first one there, wins. It’s fairly simple game, really.” Harry shrugged and adjusted the pile of yellow cards more neatly.

“And what exactly is the purpose of the red and green pile of cards sitting beside the yellow one.” Snape asked.

“When you go along the pathway, sometimes you come across obstacles and to go over them, the board will ask you to pick a green or a red card. They have different, more difficult challenges in them.”  Snape nodded and looked at Harry more closely. He clasped his hands together and laid them neatly on his lap.

“One last question, Mr. Potter. Why exactly have you chosen this game? Do you not realize that the only possible end for this game is my victory? I am a Slytherin and a spy after all, who could possibly lie better than I can.” Harry smiled and rolled up his sleeves with a determined expression.

“Oh, we’ll see about that, Professor. I’m not planning to go down without a fight.” Snape shook his head lightly and reached out for a yellow card.

“Let us begin, shall we.” He turned the card on its back so that the question was clearly visible to both of them. Harry leaned closer to make out the written words. Lately, he noticed that his eye sight was getting worse and even with his ever present glasses, distant shapes had begun to blur. Squinting lightly, Harry read the question out loud.

“What is your favorite sporting activity?”

“Quidditch.” Snape responded, his expression unreadable but Harry hardly needed to read his expression to answer this question. He had lost count of the times he had heard Snape berate his favorite sport.

“Lie.” Harry answered. Snape calmly reached out and pressed the milk white button in the middle of the board. On the smooth surface, a single word appeared in a flowing elegant script: truth.

“What?” Harry exclaimed, wondering whether something was wrong with the card. He wouldn’t put it past the twins to find a way to distort the cards to their devious will. “How can that be, professor? I thought you hate Quidditch.”

“Indeed I do, Mr. Potter.”

“Then how can Quidditch be your favorite sport?”

“I dislike sports in general. They are useless, not to mention hopelessly childish. Quidditch, since it at least helps children learn to fly decently, is a more useful sport than others.” Well, that made an odd sort of sense. With a slight poke from Harry, Snape’s dragon woke up and giving a large yawn, he stumbled over to the next square. There, he promptly resumed sleeping.

“Quite the energetic one, is he not?” Snape smirked, giving his sleeping dragon a poke with his index fingers. The creature just flapped at his finger with its wing and continued to sleep. Harry chuckled lightly as Snape turned over the next card. It was amazing how great it was to spend time with him when he wasn’t being a complete git. At times like these it was hard to believe that this man was capable of torture and even… Harry shook his head sharply. No. He won’t go there. Not now. This morning he had decided to just give Snape the benefit of the doubt, at least until they found out something definite against him.

“Anything the matter?” Snape asked, watching Harry intently.

“No, sir.” Harry stated, burying his hands in the sleeves of his new jumper. It was slightly bigger than his size but Harry didn’t mind. In fact, he liked to pull at the sleeves and watch his hands disappear into them. He bent down low and squinted hard to make out the letters on the card. They looked even smaller than before.

“Describe a prank that you pulled at school.” Harry read, grinning with anticipation. This was going to be good. Snape’s lips twitched mildly.

“I do believe it is now your turn to answer a question.” He stated evenly.

“No, professor. Since you won the last round, you have to answer this question as well.” Harry clarified.

“It is rather suspicious that you forgot to mention said rule at the start of the game, Mr. Potter. If we continue on in this line, I might come to suspect you of foul play.” Snape’s tone was mildly teasing.

“Why, Professor, I’m a Gryffindor, I’m the innocent one here, remember.” Snape huffed mildly before answering the question. Harry watched his face closely, trying to detect any sign of lies. It was impossible, like trying to read a marble statue. 

“During my first year at Hogwarts, me and a few older Slytherins decided to play a prank on your current head of house.” Harry stared at Snape’s mouth as he talked, trying to catch his lie. “You see, we were quite angry at her for not giving Slytherin house equal credit for the hard work of its members. So, in a brilliant flash of inspiration, we decided to play with her hair style. Namely we shaved her head while she slept and attached her hair on her face so that she was shaved and sporting a beard when she came to breakfast the following morning. To make matters worse, or better depending on your perspective, she didn’t figure out a way to reverse the effects until a few weeks later.” Harry couldn’t help but laugh at that. The image of Professor McGonagall with a beard was just plain unsettling. Harry bit his lip and stared at Snape’s marble face. Was that story true? How could he tell?

“I’m waiting for your verdict, Mr. Potter.” Snape urged. Harry figured the way to unmask a lie was to find a hole in the story so that was exactly what he was prepared to do.

“But why would older kids involve a first year in their pranks?” Harry asked. “When I was at school the older kids would just ignore us most of the time.”

“I was a considerably valuable asset to their prank. Even as a first year, I had a surprising mastery of potions. My sleeping draught was stronger and more reliable than any other student’s and I made it at my first try. Not surprising, of course, considering that I spent hours of my pre-Hogwarts days crafting various simple potions.” Well, that answered seemed genuine enough. It made complete sense, so maybe Snape wasn’t lying after all. Still, it was better to try once more to search for that hole in the web.

“Do you remember the names of the older students, sir?”

“I was under the impression that this was a game, not an interrogation. Still, in the interest of satisfying your curiosity I shall answer your question.” Snape said evenly. “I have forgotten one name and I have never known another but there was one girl, the oldest in the group, with whom I was closest. Her name was Eva Parkinson.” Was it a trick of the light or did Snape’s facial features shift momentarily at the name, as if it had a special significance to him. “The other names I remember were Lucius Malfoy and Narcissa Black.”

“Truth?” Harry stated but it came more like a question. He still wasn’t sure.

“Is that a question or your final verdict, Mr. Potter.”

“Yeah, it’s my final answer. Your story is true.” The left corner of Snape’s lips curved upwards in a self-satisfied smile. He pressed the button again and Harry saw the word “lie” materialize onto its surface. Damn it! He lost again. It was a pity. Harry had kind of wanted that story to be true.

“I did warn you that you would lose, did I not?”

“Well, it’s not over yet, professor.” Harry said, poking the sleeping dragon. A puff of smoke came out of its snout but otherwise, it didn’t move a single muscle. “Oh, come you, you lazy twit!” He poked it harder. Still nothing.

“Are all your playing pieces normally this unwilling to play the game?” Snape asked watching Harry struggle with his stubborn dragon.

“Of course not! Look at my Griffin. He’s flapping his wings and jumping on the spot, ready to fly.” Harry countered.

“Too bad he will never get the opportunity to do so. I have a strong suspicion that your energetic Griffin will stay rooted to his spot for the entire game.” Snape’s tone was light. “Really, what luck this poor sleepy dragon has! He should have been your piece.” Harry chuckled as he forcefully shoved the dragon to the third spot.

“Finally. Let’s move onto the next question, sir.” Harry pushed his gasses up is nose and bent still lower to read the next card. Odd. He never had this much trouble reading words before. Maybe the looping script on the cards was giving him trouble.

“Mr. Potter?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Why is your nose nearly pressed against the cards? Can you not read the letters?”

“It’s a little hard.” Harry shrugged, finally giving up and picking up the card, bringing it so close to his face that the glossy surface nearly touched his nose. “Its these weird shaped letters giving me trouble.”

“They appear fine to me. Perhaps it is your eyes that need to be checked, Mr. Potter. Have you ever encountered this problem before?” Snape sounded concerned. It was strange how such a simple question made Harry feel warm and happy. He had to fight the urge to grin like the half mad Cheshire cat.

“Sometimes, when I’m sitting in the back rows, the board looks a little blurred.”

“Then how can you see the instructions I write on the board if you constantly sit on the back rows in my class? Why do you simply not come to the front desks?”

“Well…” Harry shrugged, twisting the sleeves of his sweater. He was looking anywhere but at Snape right now. He couldn’t just tell Snape that he had been dead scared of the man after the very first potions class. It just sounded so pathetic.

“Never mind. I believe I can imagine the answer for myself.” Snape stated bitterly.

“But it wasn’t a problem, sir.” Harry quickly continued. He didn’t want to get Snape upset, not now that things have been going so well. “I just copied the instructions from Hermione’s notebook. She writes neater than you anyway…” Harry bit his lip immediately. Sometimes he was just a complete and utter idiot.

“All I meant was that she writes bigger letters in print so it’s easier to understand than your cursive.” Well, that just made things so much worse. Why couldn’t Harry just keep his mouth shut.

“I mean, your cursive is great. Its better since its more adult- like. All adults use cursive, like Professor McGonagall and Professor Flitwick. I mean, it’s like mandatory for adults to write in cursive. Maybe it’s because they write so much all the time.”  

“Mr. Potter?”

“Yours is a little harder to understand because your letters kind of run into each other but that’s just cause you write a lot faster. Not that that’s bad!”

“Mr. Potter?”

“I’m not trying to insult you, sir! I’m just saying that it’s easier to read Hermione’s letters than yours because she writes better. No. That’s not what I meant! I just meant…”

“Mr. Potter!” Snape exclaimed loud enough to get Harry to pause in the middle of his potentially dangerous sentence. “Perhaps, it is best if we move onto the next question before you find yourself rambling to death.” Snape was smiling. Actually smiling. Harry jaw dropped open in surprise. Severus Snape, feared bat of the dungeons was really smiling. Granted, it was probably just his way of laughing at Harry but still! He was smiling. Harry couldn’t help it. He laughed. Harry resisted the probably fatal urge to jump onto Snape’s neck and give him a big warm hug.

“You’re smiling, sir! You almost never smile.” Harry exclaimed.

“Contrary to the vampire rumors circulating the castle, child, I am only human.” Snape shook his head lightly. “I do occasionally fall prey to the human weakness of smiling.”

“It’s great, sir! You look years younger and a lot less threatening when you smile.” Harry smile froze in his lips for a moment. “Not that you look old when you’re sneering! You look perfectly fine even when…”

“Read that question now, Potter!” Snape chuckled with his deep baritone voice. “Alarm red. Danger of rambling ahead.”

“Quite the poet, aren’t you, Professor?” Harry laughed.

“Just read the blasted question!”

“How often do you lie? And if you think you are a great liar, how did you become good at the subtle art of lying.” Harry read aloud.

“Does the card really say that, Mr. Potter?”

“Well, I added the ‘subtle art’ part but the rest of it really is on the card.” Harry smirked up at his professor. Snape only shook his head and answered the question.

“I lie almost daily and yes, I do not exaggerate when I state that I am quite the professional liar.”

“Arrogant much?”

“It is not arrogance, child. It is a simple undisputable fact.” Snape stated with a marked emphasis on the last word.

“And how did you become so good at lying, sir?” Harry was surprised and a little disappointed when he saw Snape’s smile disappear. He retreated behind his mask again, hiding every expression with the ease of long practice. Harry had come to understand that Snape used his mask to hide strong feeling, especially when he was talking about something serious or unnerving. The answer to this question must be something that made his professor uncomfortable. Harry was just about to say that they should move onto another question when Snape started to answer.

“Lying has required quite a lot of practice on my part.” Snape said, his gaze shifting to the hands clasped on his lap. “I make a habit of practicing with myself every morning the moment I wake up and every night just before going to sleep.”

“And how do you practice with yourself, sir? Do you go over different lies in your mind?” Harry knew he shouldn’t press but he couldn’t help it. He was just too curious to know the answer.

“Not exactly.” Snape paused, looking intently at the dragon snoring on the board. He seemed to be weighing just how much to tell Harry about his private life. “I use a mirror. There is a full length mirror in my bedroom and it serves the express purpose of helping me perfect my lying skills. I stand in front of it every day and try out different expressions. I attempt laughing or squinting my eyes suspiciously or smirking with a knowing glimmer in my eyes. Most often, I practice these expressions while conversing with myself on different topics.” Harry really shouldn’t have laughed but the truth is, he did. The idea of Snape standing in front of a mirror, laughing to himself everyday was just plain weird. The mask on Snape’s face faltered for an instant before crumbling completely to reveal an expression of pure anger. 

“How dare you, Potter! How can you laugh at me knowing what I do every day, what I am forced to do to protect the side of the light?”

“Sir, I didn’t…”

“Every day I must stand in front of the most dangerous criminals alive and I have to lie convincingly to their faces while trying not to think of the fact that a single wrong word might get me killed. Do you think that such a job is easy, Potter?”

“I just…”

“Can you blame me for practicing every chance I get just so I might get to live another day?”

“I’m so sorry, sir!” Harry felt horrible. Of course, it must be hard to be a spy, not knowing when his last day would come. It must be terrifying. Harry really shouldn’t have laughed. Snape just shared something intensely private with him and what had he done? He had laughed at his professor’s face. He really did feel horrible.

“Just give your verdict and let’s move onto the next question. I will not linger on this one any more than is strictly necessary.” Snape snapped, looking anywhere but at Harry.

“What?” Harry blinked, momentarily lost.

“The game, Mr. Potter. Are we not in the middle of this childish game you yourself chose?” Harry nodded at Snape’s words. “Then give a verdict and let us move on.”

“Truth.” Harry stated with a lump in his throat. Harry had got this one right but he felt no satisfaction whatsoever. He had hurt his professor and ruined everything once again. Snape’s words were true. How could they not be when Harry had heard the anger and indignation in his voice? Harry had heard the fierce way Snape had defended his bizarre habit. His words had been true. That much couldn’t be disputed. Then why the heck was Snape looking at him with a big self-satisfied smirk on his face? Wordlessly Snape pressed that button and one fatal word stared up at a very astonished Harry Potter. Lie.

“Do remember to close your mouth, Mr. Potter. It wouldn’t do to have the esteemed Boy-Who-Lived looking so very comical.” Snape grin widened as he picked his snoring dragon by the tail and dragged him onto the next square.

“But… but…” Harry sputtered.

“Yes, Mr. Potter?” Snape arched his eyebrow. He leaned back in his chair and watched Harry, his eyes glistening with amusement.

“That was a lie?!” Harry exclaimed bending forward to inspect the writing better even though he had already seen it perfectly well. This one word was very big, after all, taking up almost half the board. The word didn’t change. Snape really had been lying. “But… but you were so…”

“Eloquent as ever, I see.” Snape was really enjoying this whole situation.

“What about the whole ‘I’m risking my life and nobody understands me’ thing you were just going on about?”

“It was merely an effective way to make you believe that I was sincere. Really, I am not yet crazy enough to talk to myself in the mirror.” Snape shook his head, his black eyes glistening mischievously. “Do you wish to continue with the game or will you simply wish to bow out gracefully before my poor dragon starts crying from having his sleep disturbed so often?”

“Definitely continue!” Harry exclaimed. “I will get at least one right, you just wait and see.”

“Mmm… It seems that I will be forced to wait quite a long time yet. It is a good thing I possess the unlimited patience of a Slytherin.” Harry ignored him and took another card. He might be losing embarrassingly but Snape was still really fun to play this game with. That was a thought Harry never imagined he would have, the concept of Snape and fun joined together.   

“Describe one memory you have of … Your partner shall fill in the blank.” Harry blinked, a thought coming into his head, a thought that would definitely get him into trouble. He shouldn’t say that name. He really shouldn’t say that name.       

“Well, whose name do you wish to supply?” Snape was watching him, his smirk still in place. He was so light and happy and sure of victory. Harry should not say this name. But, unfortunately, Harry rarely ever took his own advice, no matter how good it was.

“James Potter.” Dead silence. Snape’s mask returned, full force. Every line in his face smoothed out leaving behind a face of marble. Only his fingers pressed so tightly together that they were turning blue betrayed his anger. The yellow card trembled under Harry’s fingertips. That was a mistake, a big mistake. Why had Harry brought his father up? Things were going great. Why is it that Harry just couldn’t let Snape’s hatred of his father go? Harry wanted so badly to understand this hatred between a person he loved unconditionally since birth and a person who he was growing increasingly fond of. Harry gulped and tugged at his sleeve, the sleeve of the new sweater which Snape had bought for him. Harry stared at his new shoes, even those a gift from his professor, and waited for the bomb to fall. The white shoe lace had come undone. He had been hasty when he got dressed this morning impatient to play this game with his new mysterious guardian, someone who, despite everything, was trying to spend time with him. Harry pulled at the shoe laces, making sure it was tight enough. Then, he careful tied them together, avoiding looking at Snape’s face.

“Change it.” Snape hissed. “Change the name, Potter.” Harry looked up. Snape’s mask was twitching. It was about to fall and Harry was positive that this time the anger behind it will not be fake.

“Sir, can’t you just…”

“Now, Potter!” Harry jumped at the venom in Snape’s words. He panicked and blurted out the first name that popped into his mind.

“Hagrid.” Snape took a deep breath. He unclasped his hands and flexed his fingers. He took another slow breath, holding it within him before exhaling again. When next he spoke, his tone was calm and under strict control.

“I could tell you of the time I first met Hagrid…” And so the game continued. James Potter was apparently forgotten but he stood in their minds, a barrier that couldn’t be surmounted. They went on from one question to the next. Harry laughed and smiled, trying his best to forget his father. After a time, he did succeed. Snape, contrary to popular belief, was very good at games. As he sat there, talking and laughing, Harry felt a sense contentment fall over him. His father, Snape’s dark past, these things were laid aside if only for this moment.

_________

“Goodnight, sir.” Harry said smiling up at his professor. It was late, later than both of them had expected. The game had gone on for hours. Harry hadn’t moved a single step forward but that didn’t matter to him. He had a great time. His griffin on the other hand was pissed off at him and would probably not want to be his playing piece again. No matter, the dragon would do for him next time.

“Goodnight, Mr. Potter.” Professor Snape held the door open for Harry. He was not smiling, not openly but the rigid line of his mouth was relaxed. His back seemed less stiff, his whole posture less guarded. Of course with Snape it was impossible to tell, especially since Harry had seen with his own eyes how brilliantly he could lie, but he believed that even Snape had enjoyed himself today.   

“Maybe we should try a different game tomorrow.” Harry asked hopefully.

“Well, well. Getting tired of losing already, are we? Whatever happened to your determination to get at least one right?”

“After losing a gazillion times, I’m over it.” Harry stated lightly.

“Perhaps we shall try a different game. Not tomorrow but possibly on Monday. Tomorrow I am determined to take you to a sight healer and get those eyes properly taken care of.” Harry swallowed the sudden lump in his throat.

“Thank you, sir.” He said hoarsely. The words came out much more quietly than he had expected.  

“Whatever for?” Snape asked.

“For everything.” Harry said, looking at the guarded face of his professor. “For taking me in, for the cloths, for trying so hard to get along. Most people wouldn’t have bothered. Hell, my aunt and uncle never did.”

“It is nothing, child.” Snape cleared his throat and shifted his weight on his feet, clearly uncomfortable.

“It’s definitely not nothing, not to me.” Harry rejoined, wondering whether he could get away with a hug. He decided it was better not to risk it.

“It is getting late, child. You should go and get a good night’s sleep.” Harry nodded and climbed upstairs back to his own bedroom. He placed the board game in his desk drawer and got into his new pajamas. It was amazing how they took away the chill of the house instantaneously. Harry wondered vaguely whether they were charmed to stay in the right temperature. Whether it was the warm cloth or the warmth of the night’s game, when Harry climbed under his blankets, he felt happier than he had been in a very long time. Perhaps he could borrow one of the Weasley twin’s games. They had a whole collection locked up in their trunk, away from their siblings’ greedy fingers. Maybe they wouldn’t mind lending some to Harry and then, he could play with Snape. He would get to know the man better, slowly but surely. Why even now he…

Tap. Tap. Tap. An owl was knocking at his window, demanding entrance. Harry recognized the drooping and elderly figure of Errol, the Weasley family owl. For the first time ever, Harry felt his heart sink at the thought of Ron and Hermione. He got up reluctantly and opened the latch of the window letting the tired owl sail into his room. Errol flew into Hedwig’s cage, dropping the letter at Harry’s feet. He nibbled on Hedwig’s favorite owl treats before closing his eyes and collapsing into a fitful sleep. Harry picked up the letter and broke it open, being careful not to rip the envelope.

Dear Harry,

International Union day is coming up in a month! Mom and dad are pretty excited. They’re preparing a big dinner and inviting all our cousins and uncles and aunts and loads of other relations I don’t remember having. Hermione will be here of course and we both want you to be here too. I’m actually pretty desperate to have you here again. Mione is making me study all the time! I’ve already completed all my homework and term doesn’t start for ages yet! It’s positively ridiculous. Between my mom making me do chores and Mione making me study, I’m pretty stressed out. Come along, mate. I could use a good game of Quidditch.

Anyway, mom is going to send an invitation to Snape. She wants both of you to come. I just thought I’d give you a head’s up. See you on Monday, mate.

Your harassed friend,

Ron

What the heck was International Union day? Harry thought looking at the letter with a frown. He had never heard of it before. It must be some wizard tradition that Ron simply assumed Harry knew everything about. He shrugged and determined to ask Snape about it tomorrow while on their way to the sight healer. At least it would give them something safe to talk about.  

Speaking of Snape… This letter seemed fairly pointless. Ron could have easily told Harry all this the day after tomorrow when his lessons with Professor Sprout would resume. Then, why this sudden letter? There was only one answer to that question. His friends had found out something of Snape’s past. Maybe they had even compiled a list of his crimes and sent it to Harry so that he would finally grow to hate his new guardian. Harry didn’t want to read it but in the back of his mind he knew that he should. He folded the letter and stuffed it back into the envelope. It was getting late and tomorrow he had to wake up early. He had to review his last lesson and make sure that by Monday he was ready to learn new material. Besides they would be going to the sight healer tomorrow. It was going to be a full day and he needed his rest. Harry stuffed the letter into the bottom of his trunk, burying it as far down as he could. Then he quickly climbed into his bed and shut his eyes tight. He forced the letter and questions of Snape’s past to the back of his mind, letting pleasant thoughts of this afternoon lull him into sleep.

_________

Well. This evening had been… interesting. Whoever thought that he could get along so well with Harry James Potter of all people? Severus had to admit it, the child was pleasant company. Deep down Severus had always known that the boy had a good heart. Why else would he risk his life to protect his friends, time and time again? Granted the boy was rather foolish but that was the norm among children his age.

Severus took a sip of coffee from his mug and settled down for a long night spent adjusting next year’s curriculum. He always liked to modify his notes and bring them up to date. Current discoveries should always be taken into account. The world of potions was always changing. Discoveries were made, improvements were conducted on the existing potions, new methods of brewing were introduced. Severus always liked to give his students fresh information, different to that in the printed pages of his book. For after all, the more advanced and accurate the knowledge the children received, the better. Most of his colleague, not to mention the students, thought that he was a horrible teacher. Well, perhaps he was, he lacked the patience to deal with children but that didn’t mean Severus didn’t try his best. Often, the better students, those who actually tried, learned a lot from him. Miss Granger, for example, improved daily with her already quite formidable potion skills. Mr Potter, on the other hand, seemed to get worse instead of better.

Severus picked up his grade book and flicked to the first year records. On instinct, he cast a fleeting glance down at his own Slytherins, making sure that their grades were as high as they could possibly be. With a satisfied nod, he moved on, his eyes scanning for the name he had been searching for. There it was, Potter, Harry right next to his friend Mr. Weasley. Severus frowned at the red marks on the page, tracking Potter’s score throughout the school year. There were only a handful of A’s and only one E. The rest were an alarming blend of P’s and D’s. This would not do. This would not do at all. The child, though far from perfect, was at least smart enough to earn a consistent A in his class. Why were his grades so appalling? Severus reluctantly had to admit that he was partially at fault. He had been treating Mr. Potter unfairly since the beginning of the school year, insulting him for no apparent reason. The child was reasonably well behaved, the only reason Severus yelled at him was because of his uncanny resemblance to his father. Thankfully, in these past few days, Severus had come to see the boy as himself and not the shadow of a cruel sadistic man.

Severus leaned back in his chair and stared at a dark patch on the carpet. He thought back to the game they had just been playing. He had been with the boy all night and not once had he thought of James Potter. Well, there was the one time that the child himself had brought it up but they had quickly moved on. Severus had maintained control of the situation. He hadn’t belittled or insulted the boy in any way. A definite improvement. Considering how he looked like James Potter reborn, Severus was managing to be quite civil to him. Severus smiled as he remembered the way his mouth had dropped open in shock that one time he had lied about the mirror. It was quite, for lack of a better word, endearing. One could also use the word “cute” to describe him. Of course, Severus would never openly do so but it was true nonetheless. He hadn’t seen the father in the boy’s face then. Did the father and the son really look that alike? In fact the more time Severus spent with the boy, the more he saw that Harry Potter was different. Yes, the shape of the face, the hair and the cheekbones were all the same but there was something utterly different and unique about the boy’s face. Perhaps it was the open smile or maybe it was the way he looked at Severus timidly with his head bent low, or even the way he bit his lower lip. His very expressions suggested an innocence and an openness that had never appeared on James Potter’s face.

Severus chuckled to himself as he remembered the way Harry had rambled on, getting more and more scared but unable to stop himself. That was definitely… cute. Goodness, that was twice Severus caught himself thinking of that hideous  word. Whatever was happening to him? The truth was, quite shockingly, that he liked having the child around. The way he laughed and smiled and looked at Severus with gratitude in his eyes. Spending time with him was refreshing after the loneliness of these dark halls. Perhaps they would try another game, something that would, at least, give Potter a few chances to win. Perhaps a round of Gobstones or Wizard Snakes and Ladders. There was this one game Severus had played as a child, something he had loved sharing with his mother. He didn’t quite remember its name. Something to do with treasures and pranks… What was its name? Severus would go upstairs and take a look in the attic. It was bound to be hidden there somewhere.

And what about the lessons? Now that he wasn’t prone to lose control, he himself could teach Harry defensive spells. They would manage it somehow. Who knows, perhaps they could even come to enjoy these lessons now that they didn’t hate each other. Merlin, it was nice to be liked. The way Harry had smiled and laughed with him had been delightful. Severus always considered himself a misanthropist but even he grew tired of all the hate sometimes. It was hard to be the outsider every time. The disgusted stares and the people always looking at him and seeing only evil was a hard burden to bare. Yes, he was not a good person and he did deserve most of their distrust but that did not make it any less hard. The way Harry had acted tonight, like Severus was just another man and not some monster out to devour the world had been wonderful. Perhaps Dumbledore had been right after all in putting Harry here. Who knows, maybe in time he could even be a good father. It doesn’t matter that he does not know anything about being a father, he would learn. Severus was shocked at how optimistic he sounded. It was quite unlike himself but tonight’s game had put him in a good humor.

Severus snapped the grade book shut. Things will improve next term. He will give Harry extra lessons so he could catch up to the other students. Everything will solve itself in time. With a flick of his wand the book sailed back to its place in his desk drawer. He stood up to leave. It was getting late. He could revise the curriculum another night. Perhaps this light mood he was in could even help him get through the night without the constant nightmares still trailing after him. He made to leave the room but a spot of yellow on the black carpet caught his attention. It was a book lying face down on the floor, half concealed beneath the orange armchair. A corner of it was sticking out tentatively. 

On instinct, Severus picked it up. He hated clutter. He frowned down at the glossy new cover of the book. It was a first year transfiguration book. It must have fallen out of Harry’s bag when he came rushing down here with the board game. Severus placed the book on the orange armchair by the fire thinking to return it in the morning. Just as the book sank down into the plush cushion, something small slipped out of its pages and fluttered to the floor, right on top of Severus’s boots. He picked it up and cast a fleeting glance at the mess of words on the page. It was a letter, a personal one no doubt. Severus meant to slip it back into the safety of the transfiguration book but his own name caught his eye. Dear Professor Snape, it read. With some shock, he realized that the letter was for him. Curious now, he started to read the words on the page.

His eyes followed the rush of words on the page and slowly, his rare smile faded. Each and every word chipped away at his happiness until there was nothing left. His lips pursed together and his forehead creased into a frown. His eyes travelled, faster and faster down the page, running after the stray thoughts captured on paper. His good humor and optimism vanished without leaving any trace behind. Suddenly, he felt an inexplicable sadness and disappointment descend on him. Just for a single moment, he had come to believe that Harry Potter was different, that despite everything the boy had come to like him, that he had managed to open up to someone like him despite his dark past and even darker reputation. He thought, foolishly, that a few civil words and a silly game was enough to make the boy comfortable around him. Severus had even believed he could be a father to him. What nonsense! He was nothing but a death eater and nobody in their right mind would want to spend time with him, least of all a little boy whom he had grievously injured. It was foolish to think otherwise. Damn it all, he needed a drink. Perhaps Lucius was still available for a friendly bottle or ten of firewhiskey.

Should I ask him? Harry thought fervently clutching his potions textbook to his chest. It’s just a simple question about homework, surely Snape wouldn’t mind being asked. Harry was just going to walk downstairs to breakfast and ask him. Snape can’t possibly get mad at that, at least not this new reasonable Snape. Harry nodded his head once and headed to the door clutching his potion’s book in one hand and the Herbology and Care of Magical Creatures ones in the other. Now he understood what Hermione felt like to carry all those heavy leather-bound books around the school. Really, Harry was just carrying two books down the stairs and already his arms were aching. Weren’t they wizards? How hard would it be to sell books with a light weight charm on them? Sometimes, Harry wondered whether wizards were just a little bit thick.

Harry paused on the stairs to shift the weight of the books from one hand to the other. Again, Harry wondered whether asking Snape to teach him anything would be a good idea. After all, the man had virtually no patience with slow learners and unfortunately, he just happened to be one. The two of them were getting along smoothly, maybe testing the waters wouldn’t be such a smart move. Harry shrugged and continued down to the dining room. He already brought these infernal books so far, he might as well just try.

When he entered the dining room, Harry opened his mouth and started to say good morning but the words died on his lips. There was no one there. Well, that is definitely odd, Harry thought with a light frown. They’ve been having breakfast together ever since Dumbledore’s visit. Just yesterday, Snape had said they’d be having all meals together in order to get to know each other. Why wasn’t he here? Was he late?

As Harry came closer he realized that that was not the case. Snape was not planning to come to breakfast at all today. There was only one plate on the table with his breakfast and beside it, there was a cup of pumpkin juice. Harry set his books down on the edge, sensing that something was not quite right. Maybe he should just go look for the man and ask him if something is wrong. After a moment, Harry shrugged again and sat down to eat. He was probably worried about nothing. Snape was a very busy man and something must have come up.

Harry ate his breakfast slowly, poking at his eggs and moving them around his plate before deciding to put them in his mouth. He was feeling slightly dejected. It was so quiet, too quiet. The only sound to be heard was the click of his fork on the plate and the quiet sighs that escaped his lips. Harry felt as if he had gone back in time to the days when he would exist in this house completely alone as if ignored by the whole world. The past few days were starting to feel like a dream he has just woken up from. Ridiculous, of course. They did happen, Snape and he had gotten closer over the last few days and he was not completely alone, not anymore.

The globe directly above his head faltered for an instant. The yellow light blinked tiredly, causing the shadows all around Harry to quiver and shift. It was an eerie sight. In the dim light, there was a collection of long shadows on the table. The glass, the plate, Harry’s hands and the fork continually moving from the plate to Harry’s mouth all cast there black imprints on the wooden table. As the light finally stopped blinking and went out completely, Harry was left in a semi darkness worse than before. There were other globes all around him, illuminating different areas of the room so that only Harry sat in a pool of darkness. He shivered and took a sip of his pumpkin juice. Where was Snape? Harry missed him already. He was so certain that when he came down, Snape would be there, his mouth pressed into a thin line and the daily prophet open in front of him. It astonished him, how quickly he had gotten used to the man. Harry missed the sarcastic comments and the long heavy sentences, not to mention the twitching lips and that single eyebrow of his that was always arching upwards.

Harry saw something moving with the corner of his eyes. Abruptly, he snapped his head to the side, letting his fork fall out of his hands and hit the plate with a loud cling. What was that? He saw something there, he was sure. He gulped and squinted at a spot on the floor, just near the door. A black spot was moving, bobbing up and down. Harry’s hand tightened into fists as he reached into his pocket, feeling for his wand. It took him another second to realize that the spot was nothing but another shadow. Harry’s cheeks flushed in embarrassment as he picked up his fork again. He was acting like such a baby. Why the hell couldn’t he just relax? There was nothing scary here. He had to stop jumping at every shadow and making a complete fool of himself. What was he afraid of? Ghosts? Harry had already met plenty of ghosts at Hogwarts, enough to know that there’s nothing scary about them. He had to get a grip on himself and…

Was that a noise behind him? No, he was just imagining things. There was no noise, there is no one moving. He was just being silly. Harry picked up his fork and took another bite, slowly. The eggs tasted like scraps of paper on his tongue and it took him a great effort to swallow them down. Harry sighed. That was it. He was officially no longer hungry. He put his fork down and pushed the plate away from him. He got up, picked up his heavy books again and made his way out of the room. He wanted to talk to Snape, to make sure that everything was alright. He wanted to make sure that there was someone else in this eerie house with him, someone he could trust. He decided to go looking for Snape and ask him his question after all. He didn’t care about it any longer but it gave him an excuse to talk to his elusive and highly unpredictable guardian.
------------
This was definitely a bad idea. Harry thought about an hour later. He was tired and hungry and he couldn’t even feel his arms. He had been wondering around the house, taking this turn and that for an entire hour, still carrying those books. By now, he was strongly tempted to just throw the books down in some corner and continue walking. He couldn’t do that, he told himself firmly. If he left them behind, he might never be able to find them again. He just had to suck it up and keep going.

The problem was he didn’t know where he was going. He was utterly and completely lost. All he knew was that he was somewhere at the heart of this monstrous house. When Harry had set out to find Snape, he had been too busy wondering why the man hadn’t shown up for breakfast to think about the practical details. The truth was, he hadn’t the vaguest idea where Snape’s private lab was. He hadn’t exactly been offered a tour and he’d been too intimidated by Snape to ask him for one. And so, like the idiot he was, he has wandered corridor after corridor hoping to find a staircase leading to the dungeons where he assumed the lab could be found. He had found no staircases, only a maze of corridors, all looking exactly identical.

Harry sighed loudly. This was getting worse and worse. He thought, leaning against the wall and putting the books on the floor. He needed to rest, just a little. He was so damn tired. What was he going to do? He had given up on finding Snape’s lab and now, all he wanted to do was go back to his bedroom. But how could he do that? He didn’t even know which way he had come from. Harry looked all around him, hoping to find something, anything which will guide him back to the bedroom or the dining room or even the little parlor where they had played Liar. The familiar yellow globes shown everywhere covering everything with a dim light and large quivering shadows. Simple black doors with silver handles were everywhere, just like on every corridor Harry had passed in the last hour. Merlin, what the hell is this place? Who could ever find their way around here? Harry could just be walking around in circles and not even realize it and even if…

“I see that you have managed to get yourself lost.” Harry jumped a foot in the air. Snape was standing beside him, his arms crossed in front of his chest, his expression unreadable. Damn. How did he do that? Harry hadn’t even heard so much as a squeak. Did he charm his shoes to not make a sound? Harry smiled up at Snape, glad to finally get a chance to talk to the man.

“Sorry, sir, but this house is impossible! Everything looks the same and it is just so big. It’s even more enormous and confusing than Hogwarts.” Harry looked at Snape intently, trying to gauge what he was thinking but it was impossible. Snape was as tense as a strung bow and the mask had returned full force. Nothing escaped its clutches. Harry frowned, sensing that something was wrong. What was the matter now?

“Maybe sometime you can give me a tour.” Harry added but Snape didn’t even bother to respond to his words.

“Why are your school books strewn across the floor, Mr. Potter? Did it not occur to you that tones enclosing centuries worth of magical study deserve to be treated better than garbage?” Snape’s tone was ice cold. Harry gulped, feeling the bitter sting of disappointment. He was mad again. It was becoming a ruddy cycle! Snape getting mad, hurting his feeling and then returning to apologize. And just when Harry thought that the days of angry, bitter words were finally over.

“I was just tired and I…”

“Pick them up, Potter.” Harry sighed internally as he bent down and picked up the books. He adjusted them in the crook of his arms, looking anywhere but at the angry version of Snape, a different man to the friendly one of last night.

“And just what are you doing, wondering around the corridors and being a complete nuisance.” Harry bit his lip, forcing the angry words back into himself. Starting a yelling match would not do. There was no reasoning with Snape when he was like this, it was best to just get out of his way.

“I was just… erm… walking around.” Harry definitely wasn’t going to tell Snape that he had just spent hours looking for him, not now that he was being such a prick.

“Walking around? Then tell me, Mr. Potter, what was the purpose of bringing the books with you. Extra exercise for your non-existent muscles?” Harry clenched his jaw tight and stared at the grey stone floor. He was not going to respond. He hadn’t done anything wrong. He didn’t care that Snape was mad at him again. The man was a git and Harry didn’t care one bit what the man thought of him. He really didn’t care. Harry scowled at the floor and just waited for Snape to decide what to do with him.

“Come along, Potter, I am a very busy man and do not intend to spend an entire day, escorting you around the house.” Without another word, Snape whirled around and strode down the corridor, not waiting to see if Harry would follow. Harry unwilling ran to catch up. What else was he supposed to do? Following this annoying Snape was the only way to get back to his room.

They walked in complete silence, the only sound was Harry’s footsteps half walking, half running around the house, doing his best to keep up with Snape. Well, at least the silence was better than the insults, Harry thought dejectedly. Somehow the thought gave him no comfort at all. He didn’t want to admit it, not even to himself but he wanted the friendly Snape back so bad. What had Harry done wrong? Why was Snape so angry? Harry thought hard, replaying the events of last night in his mind again and again. What was it? What had he done? Harry bit his lip hard, trying to think of something, anything that might explain this disaster of a day. Had he been too open or too familiar? Was he still mad about Harry bringing his father up during the game? Maybe that was it. Maybe if he apologized for that everything will be alright. He hugged his books to his chest and gathering all his courage, he spoke up.

“Professor Snape?”

“What Potter?” Snape snapped irritably.

“I’m sorry about…” Harry took a deep breath. This could either go well or more probably, it could go very very bad. “about what happened last night.” Snape stopped dead in his tracks so suddenly Harry nearly slammed against his back. There was a moment of complete silence. This was bad idea, Harry thought fearfully. Unfortunately, all he had lately were bad ideas.

“Is that so?” Snape’s voice was a quiet hiss. Harry discretely took a tiny step back, anticipating an explosion.

“Do tell, Mr. Potter, what part of last night are you apologizing for?” Snape was looking directly in front of him, his back to Harry.

“Erm… the…” Damn it, now he sounded even more pathetic than Neville. What the hell was the matter with him? Harry cleared his throat and looked up at Snape’s back. He had started this and now he had to continue. “That part about my father.”

“I shouldn’t have brought him up.” Harry continued, trying his best to sound sincere. “He’s obviously a sore topic with you and I should know better than to provoke you like that. I’m sorry, sir.”

“Indeed you should not have.” Snape said and Harry was pleased to find that the hiss had gone out of his voice. Maybe everything would be alright now. Harry looked up at Snape hopefully but the man was not meeting his eye. Was it only his imagination or did Snape look suddenly tired?

“Everything was just perfect before…” Snape let the sentence trail away into nothing. He took a single deep breath and continued to walk, more rigid and tense than ever.

“I’m sorry, sir.” Harry said again and he truly meant it.

“Never mind, Potter. Just go back to your room.”

“Can’t we just… talk for a bit?” Harry asked hesitantly.

“And what would be the point of that? It seems that we can never be civil with each other. Placing you here was a monumental mistake.” Snape didn’t even pause as he strode along, his gaze fixed directly in front of him. Harry gulped, trying to ignore the big lump in his throat. How have things gotten so wrong? Yes, he mentioned his father once and yes, he was sorry but that didn’t make it alright for Snape to just throw him away like that. Snape can’t do this to him. He can’t bring Harry’s hopes up one day and then treat him like garbage the next. That was just not okay. Whether he liked it or not, Snape was Harry’s only family now.

“So, that’s it? You’re giving up?” Harry’s voice was getting steadily louder. “What the hell happened to the whole ‘I’ll do my best to take care of you’, ‘have patience and everything will be all right’ and all the other crap you wrote in that letter of yours.” Snape spun around suddenly, his upper lip curled into a disdainful sneer.

“Mind your manners, Potter.” He hissed.

“Why?” Harry yelled, past the point of caring. “You never mind yours! You keep on acting like a dick and then expecting me to just take all your insults quietly. Well, that’s not going to happen!”

“You are forgetting, Mr. Potter, that I am your guardian.” Snape’s voice was getting quieter and quieter but the venom in it was unmistakable. “I will certainly not hesitate to punish you for your appalling behavior. And there…”

“I don’t give a damn about your punishments! You can’t treat me like this!”

“I can treat you however I please. You are out of line, Potter. Like father, like son.” Harry groaned in frustration.

“Not this again! Haven’t you gotten tired of insulting my father by now?”

“My apologies. We wouldn’t want to insult perfect Saint Potter now would we.” His words were dripping with anger and sarcasm but the mask was still rigidly in place.

“Oh. My. God.” Harry rolled his eyes to the ceiling. “Let it go! You and my dad didn’t get along. You know what, Snape? That’s life! Get over it!” Snape’s eyes flashed with anger.

“How dare you, Potter!” The words were coming out of teeth clenched so tight, they were muffled and distorted. “How dare you tell me to get over it! Are you not the one who constantly brings up that foul name in my own house?”

“Stop it! Just stop it!” Harry threw his books on the floor.

“My father was a great man, a hero, so much…”

“… better than me.” Snape completed. His hands were crossed in front of his chest and his glare could have rivaled the basilisk’s. “Yes I know, Mr. Potter. He is the hero, the one everyone loves and what am I? A death eater and a murderer. It stands to logic that he is worth more than me, is it not? If he is all that is good, then by default, I must represent all that is evil.”

“I never said that!”

“No, you did not.” Snape conceded. “It is enough that you wrote it.” At first, Harry frowned not understanding what Snape was taking about. It took him a moment to realize the full and horrifying truth. The letter! Snape has read his letter! He wrote down all his thoughts about Snape in that stupid letter! He called him an evil death eater and accused him of murder and… Oh God, he compared Snape to James Potter! Harry had gone on and on about how great his father was and how bad Snape was compared to him. And Snape read that! No wonder he’s mad. It’s a miracle Snape hasn’t hexed him to pieces yet!

“Sir, I…” What could Harry say? How can he justify what he has written? Harry gulped, cursing himself for being so stupid. Why did he have to write all those hurtful things down? “I’m really sorry, sir. I never meant to…”

“Never mind, Mr. Potter,” said Snape quietly. “Just go to your room and try not to bother me. I trust that we shall not need to cross paths too often.” Harry opened his mouth and closed it again. He could feel his eyes watering and he batted his eyelids furiously. No, this can’t be happening. He can’t lose Snape, not like this. There must be some way to show Snape that he was sorry, that he was just writing random thoughts and that they didn’t mean anything. He didn’t really believe Snape tortured and killed all these people. It was only a few doubts, a moment of panic. Snape wasn’t evil, of course he wouldn’t kill all those people. Yes, Snape used to be a death eater but he was a better man now, someone who turned back on his old ways and regretted everything he did. Snape wasn’t evil, no matter what Hermione or Ron said. Harry was just having a moment of doubt when he wrote that letter. There was nothing more to it! How the hell could he make Snape understand that?

“Professor, I…”

“Save it, Mr. Potter. You have apologized already and there is no point in doing it again. You cannot change how you feel about me. It is quite obvious that even talking to me civilly is a moral dilemma for you. You think me a bad person and that will not change, no matter how much you want it to.” Snape sighed and pointed to a door on his right. Harry blinked and looked at the door in surprise. It was his bedroom. They had made it back without Harry even realizing it. How was that possible? He had been walking around for hours before finding Snape and now, five minutes later he was already outside his bedroom door?

“Good day to you.” Snape turned around, the long cloak swishing around his feet. Harry had to say something. He couldn’t let him go like this. Who knows when he’ll see Snape again? The man could really disappear when he wanted to.

“Sir, wait!” Harry stepped over the books that were lying half open at his feet. One of them had a rip along the spine and it looked up at Harry accusingly. “Wait, please, let’s just talk about this!” Snape stopped in his tracks but he didn’t turn around to face Harry.

“What is there left to talk about? I have a potion to brew and I have no intention of wasting any more of my time.” Snape looked over his shoulder at Harry, gave a stiff nod of goodbye and started walking away. Maybe he was suicidal, Harry thought grimly as he ran up to Snape and caught the sleeve of his robe. The fabric was so smooth and silky, it nearly slipped away from his fingers but Harry clutched it tightly. He wasn’t giving up yet.

“Let go of my robe, Mr. Potter!” Snape hissed, glaring at Harry pointedly but Harry only held on tighter.

“I can help brew your potion, sir.” Snape snorted unkindly at that.

“Have you developed a sudden case of amnesia? Do you not remember how appalling you are at anything related to potions?”

“I can chop ingredients or…” Harry searched frantically for something else in potions he was good at but he couldn’t find any. Snape was right, he was a disaster in the classroom.

“No, you cannot. Now, unhand…” Snape started to dismiss him again but Harry was having none of it.

“I’ll tag along with you. You can brew the potions and I’ll just watch.” Harry let go of Snape’s robe and stood up straight. Snape can say no all he wants but Harry isn’t going to listen. He will follow Snape to the lab and make him talk whether he likes it or not. Maybe Snape was right, they can never really get along but Harry just had to try. Normally, when they had a fight, it was Snape’s fault. He was unfair and unreasonable and always got Harry mad but this time, everything was Harry’s fault. He couldn’t stand that thought. He had to fix it.

“As much as I like your sudden and completely believable fascination with potions, I have to decline.”

“I just want to talk, professor. Is that so bad?” Harry asked, his voice getting dangerously loud again.

“You might not like what I have to tell.” Harry could hear the note of uncertainty in Snape’s voice and he clutched at it.

“But things are already bad between us, what will it hurt if we talk?” Snape scrutinized Harry’s face closely, his black eyes shrewd and assessing. Harry forced himself to look at that stern, expressionless face without flinching. He will not back down now.

“Very well, Mr. Potter. You may come along.” He gave a stiff nod and strode down the corridor again, his robes bellowing behind him. Harry sighed with relief and ran to catch up.

---------

Harry resisted the urge to tap his fingers on the desk. The silence between them was getting unbearable. He was sitting on a high stool right next to where Snape was busy chopping, dicing and cutting various dead plants and animals. A black thick cream was oozing out of what looked like a plate of lizard’s tails. Harry looked at the cream with an expression of disgust as it dripped over the plate and onto the polished wooden table. All around them, jars of dead things were watching.

Harry tried not to squirm in his chair. This was getting uncomfortable. He opened his mouth and closed it again, at a loss of what to say. He had sat here for the last hour exchanging nothing but a few terse words with Snape. The man just refused to open up. Harry’s questions were answered with bitter sarcastic responses and his statement were completely ignored. What was Harry supposed to do? Apologizing hadn’t worked. He had tried to bring up the letter but Snape only snapped at him to be quiet, he needed to concentrate. Harry was running out of options and he was beginning to think he shouldn’t have come here. This was one more bad idea to pile on top of the others.

Harry sighed quietly and watched Snape moving around the lab like a silent shadow flickering in the light. His movements were brisk and sharp, giving no space for hesitations. He didn’t even look at Harry. In fact, he seemed to have forgotten that he had company. There was a soft click as Snape opened a glass cabinet on the opposite wall. Carefully, with both hands, he took out a plain brown box making sure that he didn’t disturb the glass vials around it. Harry watched as Snape gingerly placed the box onto his worktable. With pincers, he picked up a reddish brown item from the box and placed it on a clean plate. It was a single brown feather with several clunks missing. Harry frowned at it, trying to understand why it was handled so delicately. It looked so plain, like any other feather you could find walking around a park. A single breath was enough to make it flutter in the wind.

Snape moved towards Harry and for a second, he thought Snape was going to ask him for something, maybe even to pass him an ingredient but no. Snape reached out for a glass vial sitting inches away from Harry’s elbow, without uttering a single word. Harry sighed. This was getting exasperating.

“So… what are you making?” Harry asked, his voice quiet. He had the childish impression that the animal pieces inside the jars and boxes would wake up at any minute. They looked so alive as they shimmered inside the various liquids.

“A potion.” Snape answered drily. He held the vial with two fingers and twirled it around. There was a sloshing sound as the liquid inside it moved and mixed. Well, that was helpful. Harry thought bitterly as he laid his chin on his hands and waited. This was going to be a very long day. Snape opened the lid with a dull pop. He peered inside once before giving a stiff nod to himself and moving the vial so that it stood directly above the featureless brown feather. Steadily, he let the vial tip, just an inch. A single drop of liquid, red as fresh blood, dripped from the container and splashed onto the feather. There was an angry hissing sound. The feather twitched and shivered in the plate, like a snake coming to life. The red liquid foamed and frothed and slowly, steadily, it creeped along every inch of the feather transforming it into a shiny black color. The barbs lost their meek softness and stood out like sharp spines ready to tear apart flesh. The feather had turned from a harmless nonentity to something that looked like a weapon.

“What is that?” Harry asked, watching the feather curiously. He had never seen something like that. The potions the first years had to work with were much more ordinary. Usually, he just chucked badly cut roots into a cauldron and crossed his fingers under the desk hoping it didn’t explode.

“It is the feather of a rare owl mixed with…” Snape’s voice abruptly stopped. His chest rose and fell as he took a deep shuddering breath. “Dear Merlin, I cannot do this.” Snape closed his eyes and sank down into a chair, so close to Harry that their arms were nearly touching. Harry looked at him oddly. What was going on? Was Snape ill? For a moment Snape sat there, his fingers steadily rubbing his forehead. Did he have a headache? Harry almost asked Snape if he wanted an aspirin but he stopped himself just in time.

“Is something wrong, professor?” Harry asked, watching the man closely. A few seconds later, Snape was already back to normal. His expression cleared and his back straightened into the stiff posture he normally used.

“I did do it.” Snape stated, his eyes focused intently on a spot on the wall. Harry blinked in confusion. What was Snape talking about?

“Do what, sir?”

“I did participate in the torture and subsequent death of that family.” There was a tense silence. Harry’s mind was a blank. He just sat there and watched Snape who still avoided looking into his eyes.

“And I did not do it under the headmasters orders either.” Harry gulped and looked away. This was too much. What the hell does this mean? Snape was a murderer? That just can’t be right. The sound of a woman screaming materialized inside his mind. He shook his head trying to banish the grim thought. What was he supposed to say? Whatever it was Harry expected Snape to say, it wasn’t this. Deep down, he hadn’t really believed it was true. He hadn’t believed that the man he was getting to know would ever do something so atrocious. He was just… so confused. So it was true. Snape was a murderer. He had killed that family. What was Harry supposed to do with that? He should just make his excuses and leave. He couldn’t fraternize with the enemy.

Harry let his eyes wonder around the lab, taking in all the strange jars and instruments strewn around the shelves and tables. The dead creatures looked back at him, silent and creepy. Harry took a deep breath and tried to think straight but he was finding it hard to do. The image of the woman screaming didn’t want to leave. Had the woman Snape tortured screamed like that?

Harry stared determinedly at a tall jar sitting right beside him. It was filled with eyeballs swimming in a luminescent green liquid. If Harry watched closely, he could just make out that the eyes were blinking. Dozens of black irises surrounded by streaks of red, all watching him intently. God, this place was creepy. How can anyone spend their whole life hauled up in a place like this?

“The door is unlocked if you wish to leave.” Snape’s voice stated hesitantly. Harry raised a hand tentatively and tapped on the glass jar. There was a click and the eyeballs jiggled as the liquid moved but their gaze was still fixed on Harry. Did he wish to leave? Did he really want to walk out that door and never talk to Snape again? Did he want things to go back to the way they were, Snape ignoring him and him trying his best not to die of boredom? No, he didn’t want that. But then… this man was a killer.

“Why did you do it?” Harry asked, still not able to look Snape in the eye. A part of him was ashamed of his behavior. He was so desperate for companionship that he was willing to sit here and listen to a murderer. What would his father think of him now, the father who had died fighting for the light side?

“There were many reasons.” Snape had stood up and he had returned to his potion ingredients. Harry could hear the thud thud of the mortar crushing dried roots into a fine powder. A strange smell was coming from the crushed plants, not exactly unpleasant, but strong. Did that family have any relatives or friends who grieved for them? Did they want justice?

“I am not a good man, Mr. Potter. I have told you that before.” Snape continued to chop the ingredients, never interrupting his rhythm. Thud. Thud. Thud. It seemed to reflect the loud beating of Harry’s heart.

“Well, you were right. You are not a good man.” Harry shouldn’t be saying this but right now, his internal defenses were completely washed away. “Murder and torture. That is not just bad, that’s evil.” For a second the mortar froze, all sounds ceased expect the sound of Harry’s fingers slowly tap tapping on the glass jar. Harry thought he heard a quiet sigh and then the mortar started up again. Up and down. Up and down. The rhythm steady and unbroken.

“Evil. Yes, perhaps that is an accurate description.” Snape sounded so tired and resigned. Harry felt sorry for him. He shouldn’t. He shouldn’t sympathize with a murderer. Hermione had been right all along. Oh God, how is this possible? How can someone torture people and then just turn around and join the light side. It was just… It was so wrong. This can’t be right. Snape can’t be evil. He just can’t be. Harry’s fingers twisted and turned the button on his shirt sleeve over and over again. He wished he had something to do.

“Do you regret what you did, Professor?” Snape placed the mortar on the table. He walked over to a cabinet and took out a standard sized silver cauldron. He placed it on the worktable and with a flick of his wand, thin blue flames came to life under the cauldron, licking slowly at its sides. There was splashing sound as the cauldron began to fill with water. Snape darted a look at Harry but he didn’t reply. Instead he added a pinch of the crushed powder into the cauldron. It gave a violent hiss, strongly protesting the newcomer. The water turned a sickly green color and started to boil instantaneously. Bubbles appeared on the surface of the frothing liquid and popped loudly, releasing jets of liquid into the air. Snape took a step back and watched the cauldron, his eyes unfocused. He didn’t seem in any hurry to answer the question.

“Do you regret killing that family, sir?” Harry’s voice was loud, it was raised over the hissing cauldron. Come on, Snape. At least say yes to that. Show me that you’re not completely evil. Show me that the man I’ve come to care for still has a heart. The strings attached to his shirt button snapped and it fell onto the floor. It rolled under the table and disappeared from sight.

“Do you wish to know the truth, Mr. Potter?” Harry nodded, finally looking up at Snape’s face and watching his expression. Was it an effect of the eerie light coming from the cauldron or did Snape really look paler than usual?

“No, I do not.” Snape replied evenly. Damn. Harry gulped. This was not good. This was really not good. Harry should leave, He should really leave. This is not right. After everything his father did, after everything he fought for, what was Harry still doing here? Harry tapped his fingers on the table and swung his legs back and forth. This was… This was all too much. Harry mind was a blank, he didn’t know what to think. Snape killed people and doesn’t regret it. Harry’s mind understood the concept all too clearly but it still wasn’t sinking in. The man standing there, inches away from him, expertly moving around the room is a murderer. The thought was so strange.

“But…” Damn, what the hell was he supposed to say? “How can you…”

“Elaborate as ever, Mr. Potter.” The corners of Snape’s twitched and suddenly Harry was angry.

“Stop it!” Harry yelled. Was it only his impression or did the jars around him start to move. “What the hell are you laughing at? A family died that day! How can you stand there and say that you don’t regret it!”

“Would you rather I lied?”

“I’d rather you had a heart.”

“Well, I do not.” Snape spun around and disappeared into his storage room, his robes bellowing behind him. A minute passed and then two. There was the clink of glasses and the swish of a liquid being poured. Another minute passed and Snape still didn’t come out. Harry bit back a groan of irritation. Why did the man have to run away every time the conversation got difficult? The Slytherin coward.

The cauldron was beginning to get nervous. It trembled as the green liquid within it spun faster and faster, the bubbles erupting higher and higher, getting ready to explode. Harry took a step back from the table and thought of going to get Snape. Was that his plan? To leave him here when a cauldron exploded on his face and burnt him alive. Maybe then he could convince Dumbledore his death was only a potions accident. Harry was just about to storm into the storage room when Snape came out again. He took out his wand and muttered a complex sounding incantation at the cauldron and immediately, it calmed down. The liquid stopped its frantic twirling and began to gently lap at the edges of the cauldron. Harry breathed a sigh of relief and stepped back up to the table.

“Okay, this conversation is not going well at all.” Harry stated, trying to remain calm.

“Whatever makes you think that?” There it was again. That tone of highly inappropriate amusement. How can any decent man laugh when talking about something this serious? It was just so… evil. Snape didn’t regret killing those people, maybe he even enjoyed it. Maybe he watched them suffer with his lips twitching in that peculiar way of his. Maybe he even turned to the other death eaters and joked about it, the poor defenseless people slowly getting burned to death. Did they even care that the woman was screaming? Did she say any last words? Did she think of her son as the life slowly slipped out of her?

Harry wished that he had something to do, anything. He looked around the lab again hoping that he could find something. Maybe some ingredients that needed chopping or maybe even a few cauldrons that needed scrubbing. He just needed something to do.

His eyes caught sight of a sink to his left. It was small and unimpressive as it hid in the corner, away from the shining silver instruments and delicate ingredients. A few brass cauldrons were sitting beside it and they were covered in ugly yellow stains. It was almost with a sense of relief that Harry got up and walked up to the dirty cauldrons. He opened the faucet and the water rushed out, hitting the cauldrons and splashing onto his shirt. He took up a sponge and began to scrub, his deft fingers teasing out the stains. It was oddly comforting, scrubbing pots and pans. He had done this for years at the Dursleys, as long as he can remember he was scrubbing and cleaning and doing everything around the house. He had hated it at first. He had vague memories of aching hands and tired feet but that was when he was very little. It didn’t take him long to find a way to make his endless tasks bearable.

He would go around the house on autopilot, doing all his chores perfectly but his mind was not there. In his mind’s eye, he could see Spiderman climbing walls rescuing distressed maidens or maybe it was Superman with his long red cloak and his alien powers. He had liked Spiderman the best though. Something about the ordinary boy being bitten by a spider and turning into a hero attracted him. He used to imagine himself being bitten by various animals and getting all kinds of superpowers. Of course, in the end, it had happened. He had gotten his superpowers and he…

“Child, that is not necessary.” Snape’s baritone voice interrupted his thoughts. Suddenly, Harry was snatched back to the present and to the unpleasant truth he had to face. He ignored Snape’s words and scrubbed harder, his fingernails screeched as they scraped across the brass cauldron. He ignored it and rubbed even harder, attacking a very obstinate stain.

“Mr. Potter, come and sit down. Those stains will not come off. They are the result of a particularly unpleasant accident and the only option is to throw them away.” Snape crushing ingredients again, the mortar moving up and down. Harry gritted his teeth and continued to scrub.

“Are you even listening to me, Mr. Potter?” Snape’s voice was a quiet sigh almost drowned out by the noise of the mortar and the rush of the water.

“Yes, I’m listening to you. It’s not like I have much a choice.” Harry muttered angrily. What the hell were these yellow stains made of? He scrubbed and scrubbed but they just sat there looking back at Harry mockingly.

“May I remind you that this conversation was entirely your idea.”

“Well, I thought we could talk about my dad and that letter. I sure as hell didn’t know you were about to confess to murder!” Harry hands were aching. He was scrubbing so hard even the clean surfaces were beginning to scrap. This was bloody useless! Now, he couldn’t even clean right.

“And yet that was the subject of your letter, Mr. Potter. Did you not ask me whether I am actually committed the atrocities I was accused of? Now, you have the answer you have been seeking.”

“Well, it’s not the answer I wanted!” Snape was silent. The jars and bottles around the room shivered in their places, reacting to Harry wayward magic. He gave up on the stupid cauldrons and returned to sit by Snape, watching his every expression.

“Why did you do it, professor? Why did you kill those people?” Snape’s lips opened to reply but Harry cut him off.

“And don’t give me some vague excuse. I want to know the truth. You are my legal guardian and I deserve to know what you are.” Snape’s jaw quivered and for a moment Harry thought he was going to start yelling but he didn’t. When he started speaking again his voice was carefully toneless.

“Revenge. These people hurt me and my friends and I merely replied in kind. They deserved everything they got.” Harry blinked. That, he hadn’t expected.

“What do you mean they hurt you? What did they do to deserve to be tortured and burned to death?” Snape sighed and waved his wand over the cauldron. There was a burst of magic and the air around them shimmered. There was an odd crackling sound as the liquid inside the potion began to freeze. At first, crystals blossomed in the center. They looked like little white flowers suspended in the liquid but then, they began to spread. Slowly at first but then faster and faster. A split second later the liquid had morphed into a block of solid green ice.

Harry watched the procedure. He might have been impressed but his mind was too heavy. Revenge. He had never thought of that. It meant that the family who died weren’t so innocent after all but Harry’s inner mind kept picturing them trying hard to protect their son while imposing men dressed in black invaded their house. Ron had mentioned that they had a baby son, hadn’t he? Distractedly, Harry reached out a hand to touch the newly formed ice. Harry nearly jumped as he felt cold fingers close over his hand in a vice like grip.

“No, Mr. Potter. That is highly dangerous.” Snape’s grip loosened and he gently lowered Harry’s hand until it was resting safely on the table but he didn’t let go. Their hands rested, Harry’s smaller one covered by Snape’s. His long fingers were cold and dry but they were oddly comforting. A part of Harry’s mind was revolted. This was the hand of a murderer. He shouldn’t feel comforted by this ridiculous gesture. He should just shake Snape’s hand off, but instead, his traitorous fingers remained still, craving the touch.

“That was a solidifying charm, not a freezing one. The potion, although having the semblance of ice, is still at boiling point. One touch will be enough to give you a third degree burn.” Harry nodded and simply waited. Would Snape mind if he turned his hand around and gripped his long fingers? He has never held someone’s hand before. He had watched Petunia hold Dudley’s hand all the time but when Harry tried, she pushed him away and wiped her hand on her coat. If he… Harry shook his head violently. What the hell was the matter with him? This was a murderer for crying out loud! Snape was not the man Harry thought he was, he couldn’t accept Snape now, not after what he had learned. But if the family really had done something bad to him…

“Child, I know that this is confusing for you.” Snape’s voice was uncharacteristically soft. His deep baritone voice was comforting and sympathetic. What was Snape playing at? Why was he being so nice all of a sudden? Was this some kind of Slytherin trick?

“Of course it is!” Harry exclaimed, his voice getting loud again. “I get a new guardian and just when I’m starting to like him, I find out that he’s evil. What the heck is up with that? It’s not fair.” Harry could hear how petulant he sounded but right now, he was past caring. He just wanted the truth. Was Snape good or evil? Just a simple bloody question. Why the heck could no one answer it right?

“You are still young and my past is too much for you to handle. There is no good or evil only different shades of grey.” Harry let out a bitter laugh at that.
“Voldemort once said to me, ‘There is no good or evil, only power and those too weak to seek it.’ And you know what, sir? You sound a damn lot like him.” Snape gasped and looked away.

“I do understand that I am not a good person but I am no dark lord either. I do not kill for pleasure, at least not anymore. I am not like the Dark Lord!” Snape’s voice was getting quieter. The hand on Harry’s trembled slightly. “I am not!”

“Yeah, then what is up with the whole torturing for revenge deal.”

“I told you, they deserved it!”

“Yeah, sure, they deserved to die such a horrible death. Sorry, sir, I find that a bit hard to believe.” Harry voice was getting louder as Snape’s was getting quieter. Snape’s shoulders were hunched and he looked so tired and sad but Harry didn’t care. He really didn’t care. “Tell me, what did they do? Did they bully you? Did they…”

“It is not only about me! They hurt my friends too, Potter. They tortured and killed people too and most of them were my friends. I had to avenge their deaths.” Harry watched Snape’s face, trying to detect a lie but he could tell that Snape was telling the truth. Had that family really deserved to die? But if that family tortured Snape’s friends and Snape tortured them wouldn’t that make Snape just as bad as they were? Oh, God, this was just so damn complicated. Harry was starting to get another headache. Who were the good guys and who were the evil ones? There had to be an answer.

“Were these friends of yours death eaters by any chance?” Harry asked, struck with a sudden suspicion. Snape didn’t answer, he just stared at the frozen cauldron and waited.

“So this family deserved to die because they killed death eaters? That’s just crap.”

“They were my friends, Potter! They did not deserve to die.”

“They were death eaters. Of course they deserved to die!”

“Shut up, Potter!” Snape hissed suddenly, abruptly letting go of Harry’s hand and standing up. Harry hated himself for missing that touch.

“No, I will not shut up! What is the matter with you? How can you work for the light side and call the death eaters friends. That’s just ridiculous. Either you’re a death eater and hate the good people or you’re a member of the order of the phoenix and hate the death eaters. Pick a side, Snape!”

“It is not that simple!”

“So what are you saying, Snape? Are you actually working for Voldemort?”

“No! Of course not! I might not be a good person but even someone like me can understand that his ideas and his methods are wrong. I am working with Dumbledore to bring down the dark lord.”

“But to bring down Voldemort you have to kill his death eaters and you just said they were your friends. How does that work?”

“My duty in this war is to get information for the light side and aid them to win the war. I, personally, will take no part in the final battle. I will not kill the people I have grown up with and call friends. The headmaster understands this and he will allow me to absent myself from the final battle.”

“So when the tough times come you just go somewhere and hide. That’s a coward’s way out.”

“You do not understand, Potter. If you had to kill Mr. Weasley and Miss Granger to win the war, would you do it?”

“I’ll never have to do that because they’re good people. If they were evil, I wouldn’t be friends with them in the first place.” Harry yelled, crossing his arms across his chest. They were going nowhere and this was getting exhausting.

“But my friends are… I have been with them…” Snape stumbled across his words, trying to find the right ones. “Oh, for Merlin’s sake, Potter! Can you not simply let it go? I will not harm you or your friends. What does it matter what lies in my past or who I call my friends?”

“Of course I can’t just let it go! I am the son of James Potter, one of the greatest leaders of the light! I have his legacy to carry on. I can’t just get closer to you if you’re with the death eaters.” Harry felt like crying. This was not how this conversation was supposed to go! Snape was supposed to say that he regretted killing these people and that he was now fully good. He was supposed to say that he no longer had any connection to the death eaters. He was supposed to… Oh God, Harry just wanted to leave. This was just way too hard.

“If you cannot get closer to me then tell me, Potter, why did you agree to talk amicably and play board games? Why did you agree to attempt to get to know each other if you think me so despicable?” Snape’s words were bitter and accusing.

“That was before I knew you were friends with the death eaters! Deep down, I thought… No, I hoped that this whole murder and torture business was nothing but a mistake. I hoped that the ministry was wrong and that you were innocent. Or, at the very least, I thought it was all in the past. I thought you regretted everything you did when you were a death eater. I definitely didn’t expect any of this!”

“But it is in the past, Harry!” Snape sat down again and looked at Harry, his cold black eyes boring into his. Harry gulped uncomfortably. This was the first time Snape called him Harry. That doesn’t matter. It really doesn’t. Snape’s evil and Harry should have no feelings for him. He really shouldn’t. It didn’t matter what Snape called him. Harry didn’t care anymore, he really didn’t. “I assure you that from the moment I came to work for the headmaster, I never tortured or killed anyone without good reason and I will never do so again.”

“But you said that you don’t regret…” Harry started to protest.

“I cannot change how I feel, child. I cannot change the fact that I feel no remorse. I never was a good person and I doubt I will ever be one but I do my best to atone for what I have done. Daily I go out and put my life in grave danger in order to help the light win the war. I do so because I believe in their ideals and also as a means for atoning for my past. Perhaps it is not enough but it is all I can do.” Harry passed a hand wearily through his hair. Was this true? Snape was trying his best to do the right thing, even if he was evil. Is that enough?

“But your criminal record doesn’t end after you came to work for Dumbledore. I know than even after Dumbledore, you were still charged for many crimes, like poisoning people.” Harry argued weakly.

“Most of these charges were wrong. After I was tried for the murder of that family, the Ministry began to suspect me of committing a series of other crimes, the majority of which I did not commit. Of course, as a spy I am sometimes forced to commit a few crimes for the sake of the light but otherwise I have kept my promise to the Headmaster and committed no serious crime without good reason.” For a moment they were both silent. Harry’s eyes were lazily scanning the room but he could feel Snape’s eyes on him, watching his every reaction. But Harry didn’t know how to react. The truth was, he wanted to forgive Snape. He wanted to let it all go and just forget the fact that Snape was evil. He wanted things to go back to the way they were last night but still… What would his father want him to do? What would perfect James Potter have done in this situation? Would he simply have forgiven Snape just because he had grown to care for the man or would he have been a good person and rejected the evil death eater sitting a few meters away from him? The answer was all too obvious but Harry didn’t want to accept it. Oh God, it was in times like these that he missed his father most. What wouldn’t he do to just talk to his father, at least once? James Potter would’ve known what to do. He was always right.

“Tell me, child. If you think I am wrong, tell me what else I can do to make things right. Regret or remorse would be good but I cannot feel them and that is something I cannot change. Believe me, child, I have tried but failed countless times. What can I do?”

“I don’t know, sir.” Harry whispered quietly. What could Snape do? He was not a good man who could feel remorse or regret. He was a man who enjoyed torturing people and practicing the dark arts. He couldn’t change who he was so he does his best to atone for it by helping the order. Wasn’t that enough? Should Harry just let it go? He sighed and let his gaze wander around the lab again, stalling for time.

His eyes caught sight of two books sitting on a low stool only a few feet away. Time has turned the crisp white pages into a yellowish brown color and the front page was an odd shape as if it had been soaked in water more than once. The spines were heavily marked and here and there, leaves stuck out of the pages. They looked so worn out and tired after years and years of heavy reading. Harry stared at the books, thinking of how odd they looked in this lab. Snape was a neat and precise man. His robes had no creases, his potion books were stacked in a neat pile on his desk. Even this lab, filled with animal pieces and plants was kept in check, the potions labeled in a neat hand, the ingredients classified and kept in the appropriate boxes. These books, they were so… out of place. Why were they here? Did Snape read them while waiting for his potions to brew? Harry leaned forward and peered at the titles. Wuthering Heights and Great Expectations. Of course, the classics. Harry had never read these books before, mostly because he found them a dead bore but he had heard of them. Back in his school…

“Wait a minute!” Harry exclaimed suddenly, pointing at the books in front of him. “These are muggle novels!” Snape arched an eyebrow and looked at Harry as if he had suddenly lost his mind.

“Yes, they are.” Snape said hesitantly, clearly wondering where this was all going.

“How come you read muggle books? Aren’t all death eaters supposed to be anti-muggle?” Harry asked.

“I never did believe that muggles are inferior. In fact, my mother was a muggle and I was very fond of her.”

“Wait, so you’re a half-blood?”

“Yes.”

“But… why did you join the death eaters if you didn’t believe in pureblood superiority? Isn’t that their whole point?”

“I merely wanted somewhere to belong to. I was feeling helpless and the Dark Lord made me feel powerful. It is a rather feeble excuse and yet there it is. I cannot change the past.” Harry nodded again and massaged his head with his fingers.

“So where do we go from here?” Harry asked, closing his eyes and leaning his head back on the chair.

“That is rather up to you, Mr. Potter. Do you feel you can forgive my past sins and accept a flawed man into your life?” Could he? That was the main question, now. Could he really forgive Snape for everything he had done? Could he really forget the fact that Snape could feel no remorse, that he himself called the death eaters his friends? The truth was that he could. Harry tugged at the sleeve of his hoody, letting his fingers snuggle comfortably into the warm fabric. He watched his feet dangling inches above the floor, the brand new shoes shining in the dim light. These were all Snape’s gifts, the first gifts a guardian has ever given him. These were small things but they meant so much to Harry. They showed him that here, no matter how complicated everything was, he truly had someone who cared for him, who made sure that he was safe, well-feed and clothed, who even bothered to try and get to know Harry. Yes, Harry could forgive and forget everything if only Snape would be nice to him and give him a proper home. Nothing else mattered.

Harry clenched his hands into tight fists. No. That was not right. He cannot think only of himself. He had to think about the right thing to do, like his father would. Now that he knew what Snape truly was, a murderer and a death eater friend, he should hate him, there were no more excuses that Harry could make for him. That was the right thing to do but somehow, Harry couldn’t bring himself to feel that hate. He cared for Snape. He just wanted Snape to take his hand again and call him child with that soft tone he had never heard him use before. God, he was such a pathetic weakling.

“I really shouldn’t like you. I should hate you, Snape.” Silence. The man just continued to watch him, his face held tight inside his mask, his hands closed on his lap. Even sitting on the low stool, Snape was taller than Harry. His shadow loomed over him, dark and demanding. “But the thing is I don’t. I… I want things to go back to the way they were before you got that damned letter.”

“Yes, that would be a pleasant option. Out of curiosity, Mr. Potter, what exactly did you mean to achieve by that letter? Surely you did not believe it would simply be ignored. Was it your way of attempting to snatch the truth from me? Instead of accusing me outright, you decided to write your accusations in a letter and let events unfold.”

“I didn’t mean for you to read that bloody letter!” Harry exclaimed, regretting ever writing the stupid thing. If it wasn’t for that letter, Harry would’ve continued to think that Snape was innocent and they would’ve gotten along so much better. Sometimes, the truth really was best left alone. “I was just feeling a little frustrated and I wrote everything I was feeling down on that paper. I never meant for you to read it!”

“Indeed. That explains quite a lot.” Snape’s brow furrowed as he thought everything over. “And yet there are still a few mysteries that were never quite solved. How exactly did you get such a wealth of information regarding my past, Mr. Potter?” Harry wriggled uncomfortably in his chair, wondering how much Snape suspected. He would never give up his friends but he didn’t really know what else to say.

“I… heard it from someone.” Harry spluttered.

“Indeed. Would this someone be Miss Granger and Mr. Weasley by any chance?” Harry didn’t respond. He just tried his best to keep his face expressionless as he looked anywhere but at Snape. There were rumors going around the school that the man could read minds. Of course, these rumors came from the same people who thought Snape was a vampire so their information wasn’t exactly accurate. Still, better be safe than sorry.

“Never mind, Mr. Potter. I suppose it does not really matter.” Harry nodded feeling a weight lift from his shoulder. At least he hasn’t betrayed his friends.

“May I point out that you still have not addressed the issue at hand.” Snape continued, watching Harry’s face intently.

“Where do we go from here, Mr. Potter?” Harry shrugged his shoulders desolately.

“I guess we could start everything over.” Harry replied hesitantly.

“Alright, let us attempt that, shall we?” Snape cleared his throat audibly and drawing himself up, started speaking.

“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…”

“Oh no, not the speech again!”

“Well, you did say that we should start over! That is how we first met!” Snape’s lips twitched as he fought back a smile.

“Besides, I happen to think that my opening speech is rather enchanting.” Harry smiled despite himself.

“A bit arrogant aren’t we, sir?”

“As every Slytherin knows, it is not arrogance if it is true. I had the student’s immediate attention with that captivating speech of mine.”

“You ended by calling everyone dunderheads, professor!”

“That was merely another statement of fact.” Harry felt the sudden urge to stick out his tongue at Snape. Instead he crossed his legs underneath him and wriggled in the chair, getting comfortable. At least, as comfortable as he could get on a high wooden stool.

“I’ll show you what a proper starting over looks like. Watch and learn.” Harry cleared his throat, held his back straight and extended his hand for Snape to shake. “Hello, my name is Harry Potter, I am your new student.” Snape’s shook his hand, dipping his head in Harry’s direction.

“Hello, Mr. Potter. I am your new potions professor also known as the dungeon bat, the vampire terror, the glaring man and many such flattering names. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance.” Harry laughed giving Snape’s hand a hearty shake.

“Wow, you seem like a really nice teacher, not at all the sort to take unfair points off Gryffindor!” Harry smirked.

“Why thank you, Mr. Potter. You seem like a model student yourself, not at all the sort to disregard all school rules and give your teachers weekly heart attacks.” Harry smiled and looked at Snape’s face. It’s funny how he always thought Snape could never smile or be happy but slowly he was coming to realize that Snape laughed and smiled too, just like the rest of them, only Snape’s smiles were harder to make out. You had to look very closely to see the wrinkle at the edge of his eyes that only appeared when he was amused or the sudden twitch of the lips. There was much more to his professor than met the eye.

He really loved spending time with Snape when he was like this. Not angry, not jumping to conclusions and being unfair, only having a bit of fun. Snape really did need more fun in his life. Maybe this was going to be alright. Snape really wasn’t so bad. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad if Harry forgave Snape and just decided to let the past alone.

“Sir?” Harry asked, his voice suddenly serious again.

“Yes, Mr. Potter?”

“You wouldn’t really kill anyone, would you? Not now that you’re working for the Order?” Harry watched Snape’s face, holding his breathe. There was only one answer he would accept and he hoped with all his heart that Snape would be able to give him this answer. A few second passed. Snape opened his mouth and closed it with a snap. Harry could feel his hands getting clammy. No. Not again. Oh come on, Snape, just say the damn words. Go on, Snape.

“Its c...”

“Please, don’t say it’s complicated, sir.” Harry leaned forwards on his chair and watched Snape’s face. “Please don’t. I need a straight answer!”

“I... Mr. Potter, I cannot merely say that I will never kill again. I am spy and there will come a time when I will have to kill again, to preserve my cover and to aid the side of the light.” Harry gulped. He felt uncomfortable with the idea of murder for whatever reason but Snape had a point. In a war there were casualties. Harry couldn’t stop that no matter how much he didn’t like it.

“Alright, professor. Then, tell me you will only kill for the greater good.” Snape mouth dropped open in surprise and for a second he just stared at Harry as if he couldn’t believe what he had just heard. His mask had dropped and his face was the picture of shock. What had he said? Harry thought, his brow furrowing in confusion.

“For the greater good.” Snape whispered, his lips tasting the words. His chest rose and fell as he took two deep breathes and for a moment, he stayed silent, watching Harry’s face intently.

“So… Will you promise, sir?” Harry asked quietly, his words slow and deliberate, as if talking to a particularly volatile child.

“The greater good. That is a dangerous phrase, Mr. Potter.” Snape spoke smoothly, his eyes glazed and far away. “One could do so much under that simple excuse. They could commit the unforgivable and think themselves right, all for the greater good. Oh, yes. That phrase is very dangerous, indeed.” Snape’s eyes blazed and Harry couldn’t quite name the strong emotion that was glistening in those black orbs. What was Snape talking about? Was he saying that he has committed unforgivable acts thinking that it was all for the greater good. What did it mean?

“Sometimes, I almost forget how very young you are, Mr. Potter.”

“I’m nearly twelve!” Harry stated indignantly. Something about Snape’s tone irked him. “I have survived a fully grown mountain troll, a three headed dog and Quirell with Voldemort stuck to the back of his head.”

“And yet, the world holds so much worse. It holds things that you cannot even begin to imagine.” Snape sighed and sat back on his chair. His gaze, when it fell on Harry, was filled with what looked suspiciously like pity.

“What can be worse than facing Voldemort and nearly dying?” Harry snapped. He was getting irritated. He was not an ignorant child. He and his friends have been through so much. Snape had no right to sit there and look down on him like that.

“The truth can be a lot worse. Finding out that the people closest to you are not what they seem to be. Finding out that not everything is simple and straightforward. These are the hardest problems to face, child. You cannot understand this now but, I’m afraid that all too soon, you too will understand.” Harry was confused. He tried to understand Snape’s words, he really did, but they just didn’t make any sense. The people closest to you are not what they seem? What was that supposed to mean? Maybe Snape was talking about himself and his death eater pals. They were friends but then Snape understood what they truly were. Was that it? Harry got the feeling that there was more to Snape’s words than that.

“Well… I guess it’s important to trust the right people so that they won’t ever lie to you,” said Harry uncertainly.

“People lie, Mr. Potter. Even people who seem perfect on the outside might still hold something entirely different in their hearts. Trust is futile and often times dangerous. Trusting in people who work for the ‘greater good’ might not be as effective as you think.”

“Okay…” Harry nodded, not understanding a word. This conversation was getting a bit too complicated for him to follow. There seemed to be hidden meaning in every word and if there was something that Harry really couldn’t understand, that was subtext. Harry was an open person, not given to hiding anything or trying to figure out what other people were hiding. He considered asking Snape straight out what the heck the man was talking about but before he could, Snape spoke again, his words quiet and solemn.

“I will make a promise to you and I intend to keep it. Whether you believe it or not is your decision.” Harry waited with bated breath. He felt that this would be a turned point in their relationship, something that will help Harry truly and completely trust his new mysterious guardian. “I promise you, Harry, that I will no longer kill or torture anyone unless it is to protect my students or to help the side of the light win the war against the Dark Lord.” Harry’s looked at the burning intensity in Snape’s eyes and he just knew that Snape would never break his promise to Harry. Hadn’t he always told him the truth, no matter how unpleasant it was? He could’ve hidden the fact that the death eaters were his friends but he didn’t. He could have simply lied and said that he regretted killing that family but he didn’t. Snape had been honest even if a lie would’ve been much easier and that is why Harry found himself truly believing Snape’s words. The promise was real.

“Will that be sufficient?” Snape asked, a single eyebrow rising to form a perfect arch.

“Yes, sir, it is.” Harry nodded solemnly before giving him a tentative smile. Snape didn’t smile in response, not openly, but the edges of his lips curled upwards ever so slightly. Most people would have missed the subtle change of expression but Harry was slowly getting used to understanding Snape’s moods even if he hadn’t come close to predicting them yet.

“So, I trust you will at least make an attempt to leave the sins of my past undisturbed.”

“Yes, professor,” said Harry quietly, trying to think of what to say to his friends. Hermione would not back down this easily. She was determined to dig up Snape’s past and Harry had the feeling that nothing he could say would change her mind. She could be so stubborn sometimes. What if Harry told them about Snape’s promise and tried to persuade them that he believed his guardians words? The very idea was ridiculous. Ron would definitely not believe Snape’s promise and Hermione would purse her lips and say that she needed more proof. It was hopeless. Besides, if Harry told his friends about this conversation they would be even more suspicious of Snape and determined more than ever to spy on him. What could Harry do? He couldn’t just keep spying on Snape but he couldn’t get his friends to back down either. Damn it! When would things stop being so ruddy complicated?

“Yes, Professor, I won’t go digging up your crimes again.” Harry promised worriedly.

“Thank you, Mr. Potter. I shall endeavor to be more civil in the future.”

“That would be nice. I’m a little tired of fighting all the time.” Harry sighed. “Hopefully, after this honest heartfelt talk I won’t mistrust you as much.”

“Honest heartfelt talk? No self-respecting Slytherin would ever participate in such a thing.” Snape mumbled with a mild sneer.

“And hopefully, you won’t insult me as much and we’ll get along nice and smooth.” Harry finished, wisely choosing to ignore Snape’s interruption.

“That is easier said than done. As I have proven on occasion I can become rather unreasonable.” That’s putting it mildly, Harry thought with a mental shake of the head.

“Maybe you can write a list of things that I should avoid. You know, some topics that’ll make you mad.”

“There is no such definite list, Mr. Potter.”

“No, but there are some things that always upset you. If I could avoid these things then maybe we can get along a little better.” Harry tried to think back on all the arguments they had over the past few days. The insults, the angry words and the fights. What triggered them all? “Well, for starters, you don’t seem to like the phrase ‘for the greater good’.”

“Let’s see. What else?” Harry tapped his fingers on the table and continued with his list. “You don’t like it when I mention anything to do with Gryffindor house and you definitely can’t stand any mention of my father.” Basically everything in life that is important to me, you hate, Harry thought bitterly.

“Anything the matter, Mr. Potter?” Snape asked, watching Harry’s expression closely.

“Nothing, it’s just that… even if I’m the boy who lived, I don’t really have much to be proud of. Yes, I survived the killing curse but that was just pure luck. My only living relatives hate my guts and my grades are mostly average. The only two things in life I’m proud of are my house and my parents. When I’m going through rough times, I get courage by telling myself that I’m James Potter’s son and a Gryffindor but now, it looks like I’ll have to hide who I am so that you’ll accept me.” Harry took a deep breath and fidgeted with his sleeve. He hadn’t meant to say all that but it was the truth. Snape hated everything he loved and stood for. That hurt more than Harry cared to admit.

“You are a good intelligent person in your own right, Harry. You do not need anything else to be proud of. Your house and your parents, I understand that they are of importance to you but they are not everything.” Snape whispered solemnly. He was not meeting Harry’s eyes and his fingers fidgeted on his lap. Harry had the instant impression that Snape was hiding something important.

“Is there no way I can change your mind about my father?” Harry asked hopefully but Snape merely shook his head once. He didn’t even consider it.

“I have no doubt that your father is important to you and that in some levels he is considered a good person but I can never like him. I have been through too much to ever consider that option.”

“Can’t you tell me what happened, sir? What made you hate my father so much?”

“That truth is best left undisturbed.”

“Why, sir? It’ll be easier for me if I understood your reasons for the way you feel about James Potter.”

“I honestly doubt that, Mr. Potter.”

“What do you mean?”

“Merely that the truth will not be to your liking.”

“Why don’t you try me?”

“No, Mr. Potter. I will not tell you what happened between me and your father. That is the end of this discussion.” Snape’s mouth was pressed into a thin line and his tone of voice was stern and demanding respect. Harry nodded and reluctantly let the matter rest, at least for now. He really didn’t want to get into another argument especially since he was still busy recovering from the last one. He decided to just change the topic instead.

“So, professor, what exactly does this potion do?” Harry pointed at the cauldron where the solid block of green potions was slowly returning to its liquid state.

“It kills.” Snape said tonelessly, sprinkling a pinch of purple dust onto the cauldron. There was a strange gurgling sound like the last desperate struggles of a drowning woman. Instantly, the solid block split apart along the middle and a thick sludge oozed out of it. The sludge was as black as night.

“What!” Harry exclaimed, scooting his chair away slightly as he saw the black potion ooze upwards along the edges of the cauldron as if desperate to get out and contaminate everybody around it.

“There is no need to worry your fragile conscience, Mr. Potter. The effects of the potion are merely temporary. It stops the heart completely for three hours but afterwards, the drinker’s body returns to normal.”

“Why would anyone need a potion like that?” Harry asked, still eyeing the dark mass suspiciously.

“I find it rather useful. When the Dark Lord orders a person to be killed, I merely slip them this potion and rescue them hours afterwards.” Harry looked up at Snape, completely surprised.

“Wow, professor, that actually sounds…heroic. Are these the kind of help you give the order?”

“Among other things.” Snape cleared his throat, clearly uncomfortable. He walked up to a cabinet and pulled out four empty vials, each one already labeled with a name Harry couldn’t quite make out. Harry tried to read the letters, but Snape’s flowing cursive was unreadable.

“Although, this potion has other, less important, uses as well.” Snape continued.

“Really? Like what?”

“Let us just say that in the recent past it has been used to… how shall I put this?... to give an entire Transfiguration class a much needed nap.” Harry’s jaw dropped open. The Sleeping Beauty prank! Around April, the entire third year Gryffindor Slytherin transfiguration class had fallen asleep while Professor McGonagall was lecturing. She had looked for a pulse but she didn’t find any so she ran down the corridor in a complete panic screaming bloody murder. Really, Harry had never seen his head of house look so scared before. The bun on her head had come loose! It turned out later that it was all just a prank pulled by the Weasley twins. All the students woke up three hours later with no idea what had happened. The Weasleys got into so much trouble but they still said it was all worth it.

“So this is how the Weasley twins pulled that prank. They used this weird looking potion.” Harry watched as Snape held the vials on the rim of the cauldron and the mass of black simply climbed the edges and slithered into the glass container.

“Indeed. It was quite the ingenious idea.”

“But how did they get the potion? Surely they couldn’t brew it by themselves.” Harry’s eyes popped open as he realized something. “Did they steal it?”

“Mr. Potter, why do you jump to such hasty conclusions? Perhaps I, graciously teacher that I am, merely handed it to them.” Snape lips twitched and he looked at Harry sideways. Harry frowned. There was definitely something he was missing here.

“But why did you do that?” All four vials were filled now and properly stoppered. They had to be sealed shut with a locking spell to prevent the potion from oozing out of it again.

“Oh, it was merely me being thoughtful.” Snape was openly smirking now. He looked completed pleased with himself as he glanced at Harry waiting for him to figure it out. “A few of my more… caring students believed it to be a good idea as well.” Harry blinked. There was something more behind this. Something very sneaky and slytherinish. Why did Snape and his students give the twins this potions? Certainly not because the Slytherins wanted to see a prank, they were not exactly the fun loving type. Then what was it? The only thing that happened was that Professor McGonagall got pissed and gave the twins lots of detentions and then…

“Hey, hang on a minute!” Harry exclaimed, glaring up at Snape. “The twins were given so many detentions, they couldn’t play in the Quidditch match! I caught the snitch but we still lost to the Slytherins because our beaters were terrible!”

“Oh, that is quite a pity.” Snape smirked, his eyes glistening like a toddler being given a chocolate ice cream.
“It is rather an odd coincidence that the match should fall so soon after that prank.”

“You… you guys set them up!” Harry shook his head and made a face at Snape. The man was still smirking at him, completely pleased with himself. “You cheated, professor! That is really bad. Aren’t you supposed to be fair?”

“Fair?” Snape shook his head, still smiling. “A Slytherin being fair. Whoever heard of such a thing?”

“You do realize that what you did is really childish, right?” Harry vaguely thought that he should be madder about this but he wasn’t. He was just glad that he and Snape were getting along again.

“I am not admitting that I did anything but if I did, it is certainly not childish! It is ingenious!”

“Mature adults are supposed to be above this sort of thing, professor.” Harry couldn’t help it. He smiled up at Snape and nudged him on the shoulder playfully.

“Are you calling me immature, Mr. Potter?” Snape growled lightly, his lips twitching.

“Depends. Are you going to turn me into potion ingredients if I say yes?” It was going to be alright, Harry thought with a small smile. A part of Snape might be evil but he is choosing the light side and in the end, isn’t that what matters? Didn’t Dumbledore say that it was our choice that made us who we are? Snape has killed before and maybe he still wants to but the fact is, he chooses not to. Yes. Harry was going to trust Snape no matter what Hermione or Ron said and everything will be alright. If they said…

Harry blinked. Something was wrong. Harry felt an odd pain in the back of his head and his eyes felt heavy, as if he couldn’t keep them open anymore. What was happening? Could something in the lab be effecting him badly? He looked up at his professor and was about to ask him when suddenly, his vision changed. The image of Snape standing beside him blurred around the edges as if a sudden mist had come into the room. Harry rubbed his eyes and stared. Nothing changed. The shapes around him were still blurred. Was something wrong with his glasses? Spots of black began to dance along his vision and everything around him began to swirl. What the hell? Harry was beginning to panic. He gripped the table in front of him hard and looked around him slowly, trying to clear his vision but everything was so blurred and distorted. He couldn’t even recognize Snape’s face. The dead things around him merged together into an indistinct mass. He could do longer distinguish anything. Oh God.

Harry snapped his eyes shut tight and tried to breathe. Having a panic attack was useless but he hated it when he couldn’t see right. When Dudley went Harry hunting, he always knocked off his glasses so he couldn’t see well enough to run away. He hated it. It made him feel so bloody vulnerable. Was something happening to his eyesight? Harry slowly, fearing the worst, opened first one eye and then the other. He blinked, everything was okay. The shapes were clear again or as clear as they ever were. Harry blinked again. Once. Twice. Nothing changed. His vision was completely normal. Harry sagged with relief as he soaked in all the details around him. Snape standing there twirling a vial in front of his eyes, the plate of lizard tails. Harry was even glad to see the jar of creepy eyeballs staring back at him. Everything was crystal clear.

Harry frowned in thought. What had happened? Why did everything start to blur so suddenly? Was it because he was tired? He remembered that he didn’t sleep much last night. Maybe that was it, he just needed a rest. Snape meant to take him to a sight healer today but with all the excitement about the letter, they had completely forgotten. Harry wondered if he should remind Snape. Getting his eyes checked wouldn’t be a bad idea. Harry thought about it for a moment before giving a light shrug. He was just worried about nothing. All he needed was to go to bed early today and everything would be fine.

Harry dismissed it from his mind and focused his attention on Snape again. The man was busy using an odd silver instrument Harry had never seen before. He leaned forward eagerly and asked his professor all about it. Snape was only too glad to get into lecture mode and explain everything. He went onto to explain about different measuring techniques and then showed Harry how to use them. Snape brewed four more potions that day and somethings he even let Harry help out. Neither of them noticed the sun slowly fade into horizon as morning turned into afternoon.

Harry woke up with a start. His chest was rising and falling rapidly as if he had just run a long race. For a moment he was lost, his mind was alert but his memories were sluggish and disjointed. Where the hell was he? He had to get up. Uncle Vernon will be so angry if he doesn’t make breakfast in time. Damn. Where’s the alarm clock? Why didn’t it work? Did Dudley tamper it again to get Harry in trouble? Harry opened his eyes but all he saw was pitch black. He needed to turn on the light and get to the bathroom fast. If he got a quick bath before anyone woke up, maybe he would be able to get away with using hot water.

Harry threw his covers away from him and reached out for his glasses. He groped blindly for the night stand but his hand only felt thin air. He frowned worriedly and began to frantically thrash his hand back and forth, trying to find his glasses. Oh God, has Dudley come in here and stolen them again. He would be helpless without them. Harry gulped and kept on looking. That could not be right. If Dudley took the glasses why would he move the night stand. It didn’t make sense. Finally, Harry’s groping fingers found the night stand. That’s odd. It was much lower than Harry remembered it. He felt cold wood beneath his fingers and a few seconds later, they closed around the thin frame of his glasses. Harry’s body sagged with relief. It was alright. He still had a chance. He could still see well enough to run away from Dudley and his fierce little gang. He wouldn’t be a punching ball, at least not today.

Harry sat up on the bed feeling queasy. His feet touched the floor and he hissed. Damn, that was so cold. It felt like he was standing on ice. Why was it so cold? Would it kill Snape to light a fire and warm this place up a bit. Harry blinked once, twice. His memories returned in a sudden flash. Of course! He was no longer with the Dursleys. He was with Snape! He didn’t have to cook, he was safe from Harry hunting, he could get all the hot baths he wanted and to top it all off, he was going to have a delicious breakfast. Harry smiled in the dark, grateful for the first time that Snape had taken him in.

Harry yawned and stretched, his muscles creaking as he extended his arms above his head. His muscles ached and he felt strangely rusty. He really needed a good round of Quidditch and fresh air to get back to perfect health. Who knows, maybe he can even convince Snape to come and have a game with him. A day away from his dank and gloomy dungeons might do him good.

Harry ignored the cold stone floor and hopped down from the bed. Immediately his head began to spin. He felt his knees wobble and give way, making him flop back onto the bed. What the hell? Where did that come from? Harry tried to stand up again, more slowly this time. He didn’t fall down but his legs trembled under him. His aching muscles didn’t want to respond to him. He felt so very tired as if he had run miles and miles until all the energy had been sucked out of him. What the hell was going on? Why was he so weak? Harry’s entire body was trembling. It was so cold. Merlin, he has never felt so cold before. He felt like he was going to faint. What was happening?

“Professor Snape?” He called out but his voice was weak. It was only a hoarse whisper that was quickly unabsorbed into the room, unheard. Harry was panicking. Was he ill? Did he get poisoned? For a split second an unpleasant image of Snape brewing in his creepy lab came to mind, that black liquid slowly crawling over the edges of the cauldron. Harry shook his head. No, Snape wouldn’t have poisoned him. He just wouldn’t. Snape was always the one who helped. In fact, what Harry had to do was find Snape and then everything will be alright. Harry stumbled forwards, one step at a time. The floor was freezing! Harry’s feet felt numb. Where the bloody hell did he leave his slippers? They must be around here somewhere. But how could he find anything in this dark?

It was pitch black. There was no moonlight streaming in from the half open shutters. Harry had never seen such a dense darkness. He couldn’t even see the vague outlines of the shapes around him. This was so odd. He was weak and he couldn’t see a thing and he was getting scared. Where was Snape? Harry took a deep breath and tried to calm himself down. Light. He needed to find some light. Even though this was a wizard house, there was a light switch on the far wall. If only he could reach it, then he wouldn’t be so vulnerable. On instinct, Harry groped around until his fingers met the topmost drawer on his nightstand. There was a dull click as it opened. Harry searched inside until his fingers closed around the handle of his wand. He quickly pocketed it before making his way to the far wall.

His breathing was becoming more labored. Every breath hurt. Oh God, what was happening to him? He was so scared, so very scared. This was not normal. This was no natural illness. Someone had done something to him. Harry fingers found the light switch. With a relieved sigh, Harry pressed down on it. There was a dull click, then… nothing. Nothing happened.

Everything was still black. Where did the light bulb go? Harry gulped. An unpleasant thought was making its way into his mind. No. No. No. It was nothing that serious. This is just a malfunction. The light’s broken, nothing else. Snape will just flick his wand and fix everything. It was going to be alright. Click. Click. Click. Click. Harry kept flicking the switch back and forth, back and forth. He was desperate. He needed light, he needed to see something, anything.

Quickly, Harry whipped out his wand. He wasn’t supposed to do this but he had no choice. He needed light. Snape might get mad at him but right now, it didn’t matter.

“Lumos.” He whispered. He felt the magic within him tingle as it rushed out of him in a fierce wave. He felt as if his breath was being sucked out of him. It hurt. Magic had never hurt him before. Oh, God. Harry waited but nothing happened. The darkness around him seemed to thicken. Why didn’t the light come on? Did he cast the spell wrong? But that couldn’t be, he had felt the magic stir. The unpleasant thought returned again and this time, it was so much more frightening. No, no. It couldn’t be.

“Lumos! Lumos!” Harry tried to shout but his words came out choked and broken. Nothing was happening. He stabbed his wand into the air fiercely. “Lumos!” No light. The truth dawned on him so suddenly, it hurt. Harry was blind. He had never in his life felt so frightened, not even when Voldemort appeared out of that turban. Memories of the Harry hunting days flooded into his mind.

“Well, well, well. Looks like you’re not so brave now that you can’t see.” Dudley’s voice rose out of his mind. Harry almost felt the stabbing pain as his thick meaty fist connected with his stomach. “You little freak of nature.” Was that Pierce? Or was it Morrigan? They both had a way with words. Professor Snape, where are you? Harry shivered in the dark and with an enormous effort of will, he pushed his bedroom door open. Blind and panicking Harry stumbled his way out of his room and into the endless corridors of the mansion. Snape would find him. He always did. He would save Harry and everything will be alright. He… he… Harry’s mind was swirling, his thoughts hazy and senseless. He felt as if he was being lifted out of his body.

Dimly, Harry became aware of footsteps running towards him. He heard the swish of familiar robes and a deep baritone voice calling out his name. Snape was here. Everything will be fine, Harry thought as he swooned into Snape’s arms, completely unconscious. He didn’t feel anything as a panic stricken Snape lifted him into his arms and ran down the corridors, not stopping until tongues of green fire whisked them away into Saint Mungo’s.

---------

An old chair groaned feebly as someone sat on it. Harry instinctively turned to look but of course he didn’t see anything, only absolute darkness. He felt like he was back in his cupboard again. Even after he was moved to Dudley’s second bedroom, he still ran to the cupboard when Vernon was angry. He sat huddled in a corner, wishing to disappear as his uncle banged on the door, harder and harder. The entire staircase shook and Harry was so scared that the staircase would fall on his head and bury him alive. And Uncle Vernon would scream and yell and rage like a wild uncontrolled beast. “Get out here, boy, you ungrateful filthy freak! You think you can sit there and do nothing all day just like that lazy drunk father of yours. Get out here and work!” But he had, he had worked all morning and all afternoon. He was so damn tired. He needed to rest, just for a second. His arms ached and he couldn’t feel his feet.

“Mr. Potter.” Snape’s deep baritone voice shattered his memory. Harry shook his head angrily and huddled into his thin blanket. Why was this happening? Why couldn’t he get the Dursleys out of his mind? They were like a poison always coming out at the least expected moments. “I have spoken with your healer and he has informed me of the situation.”

“What’s wrong with me, sir?” There was a slight pause. Harry heard Snape take in a single deep breathe. He did that only when he needed to calm himself down. Oh no, something was seriously wrong. Harry gulped and the grip on his blankets tightened. Where was Snape? He must be near. His voice came from somewhere to his left. Harry wished he would come closer, close enough to touch.

“It appears that this is not a natural ailment.” Harry nodded. That much he had expected. There was the sound of soft giggling coming from somewhere in the room. A little girl was here, maybe five or six years old by her voice. Harry frowned in thought. So they were not alone in the room. Maybe he was in some kind of children’s section of the hospital. It’s so frustrating to not see anything!

“Mr. Potter, this might come as a shock to you but the truth is, you have been cursed.” Harry nodded solemnly and continued to stare in the direction of Snape’s voice. There was the squeak of a rubber toy followed by more giggling, a little boy’s this time.

“It appears that this information does not surprise you.”

“No. I figured that part out for myself.” Why did Snape have to sit so far away? Couldn’t he just come a tiny bit closer. Harry opened his mouth to ask him to come sit on the bed but then, he changed his mind. Snape would probably think he was being ridiculous. “Why haven’t they cured me yet, professor?”

“I am afraid that they cannot cure you at the moment.”

“What?” Harry sprang to sit up on the bed. Immediately, his muscles began to ache. His entire body felt so heavy and weak. The ancient chair groaned again and a second later, Harry felt a hand on his chest. Gently but firmly, he was guided to lie back down on his thin, stone-like pillow. Harry grabbed the hand quickly, before it moved away. “What do you mean they can’t cure me? What are saying, sir? I won’t ever get my sight back again? I’ll be blind forever!”

“Calm down, child, that is not what I meant.” Snape’s cold fingers gripped his lightly.

“Well, what did you mean then?” Harry was yelling now. His voice was high pitched and he could hear the panic dripping out of it. People were beginning to whisper around him. He needed to calm down. He was making a scene. Harry expected Snape to snap at him and call him a brat but when he spoke again, his voice was gentle.

“You were affected by a curse which has taken away both your sight and your strength. There are potions that can be taken to return your strength. I am afraid it will take some time but eventually…”

“What about my sight? When can I get it back? Tell me you have a potion for that too!” Harry squeezed the fingers in his grasp tightly. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he was sure this was a bad idea. Yelling at Snape and clinging to him like a baby. That is so not good. He needed to calm down but he just couldn’t. He was so scared. What if he could never see again? What if he was blind for the rest of his life? What if he was stuck with the memories of his cupboard and Harry hunting jumping out all the time? Harry began to shiver again. Why was he so damned cold and why the hell wasn’t Snape answering?

“I am afraid that there is a slight complication on that account.” Oh no! No. No. No. “A countercurse must be found to recover your sight.”

“Well, why haven’t they found it yet?” The blankets in the hospital were so thin. Harry was curled up in a tight ball under these stupid itchy blankets but it was still so cold. Harry felt the mattress sink as Snape sat down beside him. Instinctively, Harry scooted closer.

“In order to find the countercurse they must first know which curse was cast on you.”

“But don’t they have spells to detect that?”

“In normal circumstances they do but I am afraid the curse that was cast on you is undetectable. The only way to know for certain which spell was used is to extort the information out of whoever cast it.” Harry took a deep shuddering breathe and tried to look at the bright side. Yes, he was still blind and cursed but there was hope. That was better than nothing. He had to stop panicking and start thinking like a rational creature again. Harry sighed tiredly and loosened his grip on the cold thin fingers but he didn’t let go. He couldn’t, not yet. He needed to feel that Snape was really here, ready to take care of him. He was in an unfamiliar place with no way to see anything around him. All he had was his professor and he was definitely not going to let him go.

“So… so what are we going to do now?”

“You are, at present, not going to do anything. You will stay in bed, rest and consume the potions that will be given to you. The headmaster and I will find out who did this and proceed from there.” Harry frowned angrily. That will not do! Someone blinded him. He was not going to sit here calmly and let them get away with it. He had to do something, he had to find the culprit and get his sight back. He will write to Ron and Hermione and figure out a plan. Hermione will figure out something, some clever spell or illegal potion that would help them catch the criminal. Ron will look confused and snap at Hermione a lot for being bossy know-it-all but despite everything he’ll be willing to help, not matter how dangerous things were going to get.

“Mr. Potter.” Snape must’ve read something in Harry’s face because his voice had suddenly become stern and commanding.

“I want your solemn word that you will leave the adults to deal with this matter.”

“But…”

“No, Mr. Potter! You and your little friends will not, under any circumstances, attempt to catch the culprit on your own.”

“But I need my sight back!”

“And I assure you, you will get it back. The headmaster, the professors including myself, and the members of the order of the phoenix will all be engaged to look for the man who did this. We will find him.”

“But what could it hurt if we help too!”

“Mr. Potter.” Snape was getting angry now, his words were a quiet hiss dripping venom. It was the familiar tone he used in his classroom, especially before giving out a very nasty detention or knocking an absurd amount of points from Gryffindor. “There will be more than two dozen fully trained adult wizards to deal with this situation. Do you really expect a trio of students who have just finished first year to be of any help? You will be more of a hindrance than a help.”

“Hermione is very smart. She can cast any spell she’s read about and she has brilliant ideas.” Snape muttered something that sounded suspiciously like “bloody idiotic Gryffindors” under his breathe. Harry didn’t need to see him to know that he was leveling his death glare directly at him. Still, Snape didn’t take his hand away. At least that was something. He can’t be too angry with Harry.

“I am not denying that Miss Granger is an unusually talented witch. She has a quick mind and she is endowed with more sense than the two of you. Still, she remains but a child just like you, Mr. Potter.”

“We defeated Voldemort last year!”

“By pure luck alone! You cannot simply throw yourself into the arms danger and expect luck to be on your side every time.”

“But…”

“No, Mr. Potter! You have been guarded and protected by the best witches and wizards alive but this criminal still manages to hex you. Whoever did this must be a very powerful wizard indeed. Powerful and dangerous. It is quite probable that the Dark Lord himself is behind this attack. You must not get involved. Do I make myself perfectly clear, Mr. Potter?” Harry did not answer. He sighed and looked stubbornly away. He couldn’t just do nothing. He couldn’t sit here idly and wait while the adults did all the work. What if they failed? Then he will never get his sight back. He can’t take that chance. He just can’t. His sight was way too important.

“Answer me, Mr. Potter! Do I make myself clear?” Harry started toying with Snape’s fingers. Surprisingly, his professor let him. The long fingers bent and stretched as he wished. They were so cold. Why were they always so cold? It was enough to make Harry think the man was a vampire after all. The fingers and the hand were incredibly thin. Harry felt no flesh, only fragile bones. They felt so delicate, like slender twigs. The slightest touch could snap them in two. Harry gulped and enclosed Snape’s fingers with both his hands. He rubbed them delicately, trying to get some warmth into that frozen skin. He heard Snape sigh and shift on the bed slightly.

“Child, why can’t you simply sit back and accept the help of those who want to protect you?” Someone started wailing. A little boy by the sound of it. A woman, probably his mother started to soothe him, telling him it will alright over and over again. Normally, Harry would feel a pang of bitter jealousy whenever he came across a caring family. He asked himself why he couldn’t have that. He thought about his dead parents and about how unfair it all was. Why did he deserve to be alone? But oddly, today, he didn’t feel that moment of anger and bitterness. Snape sitting beside him, trying to knock some sense into his stubborn mind was enough for him. Someone cared. That’s what mattered.

“I want to trust you guys to help me but…” Harry bit his lip worriedly. Maybe he shouldn’t be so open, what if Snape mocks him.

“Go on.” Harry’s pillow had slipped away when he sat up. He felt it being readjusted under his head. Snape’s free hand grazed his cheek as he retrieved it.

“I’m so used to doing everything on my own. Adults have never bothered to help and it’s kind of hard to start trusting them now.”

“I assume you speak of the Dursleys.” The wailing has stopped. Now the child was only sobbing silently. Harry wondered vaguely what was wrong with him. There were other sounds everywhere. This room was a busy place. There was the tap tap of feet constantly passing through the room. There was the crying and muttering of children and the high pitched voices of the nurses trying to be cheerful. Harry could hear the exhaustion in their voices, their quiet sighs after a long busy day at work.

“Yeah, the Dursleys, but others too. Dudley used me as a punching bag but the teacher just looked away. I don’t know why. Maybe they were scared of my aunt and uncle, maybe they taught I deserved it but anyway, they never helped.” Snape didn’t say anything. If not for the fingers in his grip, Harry wouldn’t even notice he was there. Was he even listening? As if in response Harry felt a soft hand gently brush away the hair on his forehead. It was only an instant. One moment his cold hand was there, the next it was gone. But it was enough, it was more than enough. Harry continued.

“The neighbors all took one look at me with my ragged cloths and my black eye and assumed I was the bad one. Sometimes, when I’ve been running errands all day, I get tired and I pause for a moment, leaning on a lamp post to recover my breathe and the neighbors just shoo me away, as if I’m nothing but a wild animal ready to bite anyone who comes near.” Harry sighed deeply and rolled his head to the side to where Snape was sitting. He wished he could see the man’s expression. Was it as blank and impassive as marble? Or maybe his eyes glistened with sympathy like Harry had seen a few times before. He wished he could see Snape’s figure, stiff as a pillar, watching his every move. “So you see, I’ve always taken care of myself. Old habits die hard.”

“That is no life for a child.” Snape’s voice was hard and Harry was surprised to see the anger behind it. “You should never have been placed there.”

“Life’s always hard, I guess.” Harry shrugged, trying to brush it off. He was a bit embarrassed. He shouldn’t have said all that. It’s a pity that his mouth didn’t want to listen to reason sometimes.

“Be that as it may. I am now your guardian and although I am not the best candidate for the job, I can assure you that you will not have to worry when you are with me. I may not be the easiest person to talk to but one thing is certain, I will provide for you and protect you.” Harry smiled. How many times had be dreamed of hearing those words when he was locked up in his cupboard? And now, out of all people, Snape was saying them. Maybe Dumbledore wasn’t so wrong after all.

“And if you do not trust me, remember that there are others. Professor Dumbledore, Professor McGonagall, the Weasleys. They all wish to protect you.”

“I guess you’re right.” There was a smell of mildly burnt roast chicken and the clink of knifes and plates clashing together. It must be time for lunch already. Funny, Harry didn’t think it was so late. The Healer’s diagnostic spells must’ve taken longer than he thought.

“Let us make an agreement. You will let the adults find the culprit and in exchange, I will give you detailed progress reports on every aspect of the investigation. What do you say?” Harry bit his lip to keep from laughing. Look at that. Snape is being reasonable. Ron would have a heart attack if he found out.

“Okay then. It’s a deal.” They shook hands heartily. It will all be alright. Harry could trust Snape. At that moment, a nurse trotted over to them and asked Harry how he was doing. Judging by the smell, she was carrying a plate of food with her. There was a soft buzzing sound and Harry felt his bed move. His upper body was lifted up so that he was nearly in a sitting position. There was a soft clang as the metal tray was placed on a table next to him. The nurse scooped up a bit of mashed potatoes and made to feed it to Harry but Snape stopped her.

“I shall take it from here.” There was a moment of silence. Harry listened attentively, willing the nurse to leave. He wanted to be alone with his guardian again. After some arguing the nurse muttered a reluctant “alright” and trotted away.

“Now, in order to begin the search for the culprit, I must first ask you some questions.” A spoon touched his lips softly. Harry opened his mouth and allowed himself to be fed the rather drab and half burnt mashed potatoes. It tasted awful but it didn’t matter. It felt so nice to be taken care of. He even forgot to be embarrassed about being fed like a baby. He couldn’t remember a time when someone has looked after him like this.

“Did you ever encounter anyone suspicious in the last few months?” Harry shook his head slightly. He opened his mouth and took another bite.

“Months? But nothing was wrong with my sight until a few days ago.”

“It could have been a curse designed to activate after a certain amount of time.” The spoon scraped against the plate.

“But that means anyone could’ve done it at any time!”

“I am afraid so but four month is as long as most curses can remain dormant within the human body. So let us retrace your steps, shall we?” Snape dabbed at the edge of Harry’s lips with a handkerchief. Harry stopped himself from grinning like a madman. Who would have thought it, Snape made an excellent nurse! What’s next, maybe Snape can also knit and bake cookies? Who knows? Life is full of surprises.

“Now, during the school year you have been at Hogwarts. The school has the heaviest protections against intruders so no one could have entered the castle without the Headmaster’s express permission.”

“It could’ve been Quirell. You know, before I vaporized him.”

“Attempting to boast, are we?” Harry could picture Snape’s lips quirked up in a faint smirk.

“Why I learned from the best, sir! I’m just imitating a certain potion masters I know.” Snape huffed lightly and stuffed his mouth with a large mass of potatoes. Harry groaned indignantly as he chewed, his mouth stretched comically. He could hear the man chuckle mischievously. Oh, when he swallowed this bite, Snape was going to get it! But Snape moved on with his explanations before he could get in a word.

“No, Quirell is not the culprit. I monitored him throughout the school year, keeping a record of all the places he visited and the spells he has cast. I checked the spells but none of them can induce blindness.” Harry nodded. That makes sense.

“Okay then, what about the students?”

“Too inexperienced. None of the students at Hogwarts are powerful enough to cast such a spell. Not even the seventh years. Of course, the professors are always a possibility but all the staff members at Hogwarts have been approved by the Headmaster. It is unlikely that they are involved.”

“Then I guess it can’t be anyone at Hogwarts.”

“The Headmaster sometimes receives visitors. It could be one of them. I shall discuss that with him as soon as possible. Now, tell me, which other places have you been to.”

“Well, I went to the Burrow and…”

“Did anyone other than Mr. and Mrs. Weasley ever enter the house?”

“Of course! It’s the Burrow. There are always lots and lots of cousins and aunts and uncles who pop up everywhere.”

“Alright then, I shall need a list of all the visitor from the Weasleys. Now continue.”

“I also went to Diagon Alley.”

“That is problematic. Anyone could have hexed you in that open location. I will need a copy of your memories.” Harry nodded. He was feeling a lot more hopeful now. Snape had a very firm and decisive way of handling everything. It made him seem in complete control of the situation. Snape had taken his hand away when he started to feed Harry but now, Harry wanted it again. Blindly, he groped around for the hand, feeling over the blanket and the small table where the food was sitting. He felt something squashy give way under his fingertips. Urgh. His hand had found the mashed potatoes.

“Why, Mr. Potter, I was not aware that you had developed such a fondness for half burned meals.” Harry felt his fingers being wiped away by a paper towel. He grinned sheepishly and grabbed the hand that was cleaning him. Snape huffed and made a brief resistance, wriggling his fingers, trying to find freedom.

“Mr. Potter, I need my hand back.”

“I need it too.” Harry whined and held on tighter.

“And how do you suppose I cut your chicken with only one hand, Mr. Potter?”

“You’re a smart man. You’ll figure it out.” Harry chuckled, beginning to toy with Snape’s fingers again. It will be alright. As long as Snape was here, everything will be alright. Lunch passed way too quickly for Harry. The meal tasted awful but Harry didn’t remember ever being this satisfied. He forgot to be afraid and the Dursleys were nothing but vague impressions as he lay there with his guardian beside him. Snape continued to plan his investigation and Harry just listened feeling more and more hopeful every second. If there was anyone who could cure him that was Snape, he was sure of it. As long as his professor was by his side, he was completely and undeniably safe.

The morning drifted away and the mid afternoon sun shone bright outside the hospital window. Harry, blind and huddled inside his blankets, couldn’t see anything but he could hear someone beside him prattling on and on about what a beautiful day it was. Bright, sunny and warm, a rare day for this part of England.

“I have to leave now, Mr. Potter.” Harry’s grip on his fingers tightened painfully. The panic that Snape’s soothing words had banished was starting to return. He was blind and vulnerable. Anyone could hurt him. Snape can’t leave. Harry needed him. He bit his lip and tried to think of a way to get Snape to stay, at least a little bit longer.

“But… you still need to get my memories of Diagon Alley.” Harry stated urgently. He didn’t want to stay here, alone with all these unfamiliar noises and painful memories. He didn’t want to let go of Snape’s cold fingers.

“I shall retrieve them at a later date. I cannot extract your memories until you recover some of your strength. I assume that will take a few days, at least.”

“But you can stay and ask me more questions.” Harry stammered. “I… I still might know something important.”

“Mr. Potter?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Is anything the matter?”

“Nothing!” Harry exclaimed loudly but he had a feeling he hadn’t been too convincing. His voice was filled with desperation. There was a moment of silence. Snape said nothing, he only waited. Harry could picture in his mind that single eyebrow of his arched upwards in a silent question.

“I’m just a little…” Scared was the word that came to mind but that sounded way too pathetic. He was the son of a proud and brave member of the Order of the Phoenix. He needed to be brave and strong, not clinging to his guardian like a scared puppy. Still, no matter how much his mind rebuked him, he didn’t want Snape to leave. “Don’t go, professor. Sit here. Stay with me for a few more minutes.”

“I am afraid that is out of the question, child.” Although Snape’s words were harsh, his tone was soft and soothing. “I have to inform the headmaster of what has happened. I stayed here much longer than I should have. We have to start looking for the person who cast the curse immediately.” Harry sighed dejectedly. Snape was right. He had to leave. Probably, after he walks out that door, Harry will not see him for days or months, not until the man who did this is caught. Harry should be grateful. He should be glad that Snape was going to investigate but the truth is he wasn’t. He wanted the man beside him in his moment of darkness.

“I shall not leave you utterly friendless. I have contacted Mr. and Mrs. Weasley and they are already here. They are talking with your healer at the moment.” Harry felt a bit better at that but still, it wasn’t enough. He wanted his guardian. Harry frowned in thought. When has this happened? Harry has always preferred the Weasleys to anyone else in the world. He considered them family. When did Snape, the ex-death eater and arch enemy of his father become more important to him than the Weasleys?

“I trust that will be sufficient.” There was a swish of heavy cloth as Snape put on his traveling cloak.

“But it won’t be the same, sir. I want you to stay.” Harry whispered quietly. Harry felt a gentle hand rest on his head and softly, as if he was a fragile sparrow easily hurt, Snape carded his hand through Harry’s messy hair.

“Surely the Weasleys will know how to comfort you better than me.”

“Oh, I don’t know about that, professor. You make a very nice nurse. Are you sure you don’t have a bit of Hufflepuff in you?”

“If you weren’t blind I would make you clean out frog entrails for the rest of the summer for that ridiculous comment. Hufflepuff, indeed!” Snape growled but his fingers continued to steadily comb through Harry’s hair. Harry smiled softy and leaned into the touch.

“Don’t leave, professor.” He whispered.

“I am afraid I must but I will return as soon as I can. I will report to the Headmaster and return immediately. I will be back before nightfall.” Harry frowned. Snape was right. He had to go. Why was Harry being so clingy and pathetic? Outside, he could hear the loud, shrill voice of Mrs. Weasley yelling at some poor healer. By the sound of it, Mr. Weasley was attempting to calm his wife down. He was failing, badly.

“Will you come back?”

“Of course, child.”

“When, sir? In a few hours? In a few days? When will you be back?”

“I cannot be certain of the time but rest assured, I will come back before the end of the day.” Harry bit his lip worriedly. He didn’t like this but what choice did he have? He gave Snape’s hand one last squeeze.

“You promise to come back today, professor?”

“Yes, child, I promise.” With a tired sigh, Harry released his hold on Snape’s fingers. Gently, they retreated. Harry bit his lip and forced himself not to snatch them back immediately. Snape had promised. He would come. There was a familiar swish of bellowing robes, a dull squeak as the door to the children’s ward opened and shut and then, just like that, Snape was gone.

---------

Severus lingered outside the headmaster’s office. His eyes were focused sharply on the large wooden doors waiting in front of him. They were decorated with bright yellow moons and stars and the brass knocker was in the shape of a mouse grinning like a ridiculous clown straight at him. The mouse was charmed to twitch its tail and wave cheerfully at the visitors while making a little squeaking sound that immediately got on his nerves. He leveled a death glare at the insipid mouse but it only grinned wider. Severus resisted the urge to hex it into a million tiny pieces. He had a duty to perform. Severus squared his shoulders, took a deep breath and grasped the door knocker. The cold of the metal under his fingertips was comforting and he needed all the comfort he could get. This was not going to be easy. Severus sharply rapped on the door twice keeping his emotions completely under control.

There was a moment of complete silence broken only by the occasional squeaks of that infernal mouse. Severus thoughts strayed back to his injured ward. He had left Harry in the competent hands of the healers at Saint Mungo’s with Mr. and Mrs. Weasley fuzzing over him like distraught parents. The poor child had looked so scared and miserable. In fact, Severus had never seen the boy look so frightened. He was always so daring and brave, the very model of a typical Gryffindor. Severus was shocked to see him behave like that, clinging to his hand as if his life depended on it. But the truth was, Severus knew exactly what it felt like. He too had been cursed when he was about Harry’s age. He had lain in the hospital wing, blind, helpless and jumping at every sound, afraid that it was someone coming to attack him. Severus knew how frightening it was to be vulnerable.

He should have said something comforting and soothing to ease the child’s fears. He should have told him that he understood and that everything was going to be alright. He should have hugged him like he had seen Mr. Weasley do. Instead, he had sat there like a lump saying nothing useful, only a few stiff and logical comments that were surely ineffectual. The child had suddenly become blind and he had not given him the least bit of comfort. What was the matter with him? Severus mentally shook his head at his own incompetence.

Still, the child seemed to enjoy his company. Severus couldn’t see why. He was stiff, apathetic, cold and heartless. Why the child would prefer him to the Weasleys was beyond him. Perhaps it is because Severus seemed dangerous and powerful. He looked capable and sure of himself. Maybe Harry just felt safer with him. Poor child! He has been through so much in his young life and now, he is blind too. It wasn’t fair. Severus shook his head internally and vowed to do anything to find the culprit and return the boy’s sight. Of course, that will not be easy. He had been confident in front of the boy in order to reassure him but the truth was, finding the culprit was a lot harder than he made it seem. Anyone could’ve cast a hex on him while he was walking along Diagon Alley.

And yet… There was something odd about this. Blindness. Why would anyone deliberately cause blindness? If they wanted Harry dead wouldn’t they have cast a more lethal hex. Why blindness? This hex looked more like a punishment or maybe an act of revenge. Severus shivered. The need for revenge. It’s a strange feeling, one that Severus understood only too well. How many people out there wanted to hurt Harry, the son of the infamous James Potter? Too many to count. And the worst part was, Severus couldn’t blame them. How many times in the past had Severus wanted to hurt those Gryffindors, how many times has he wanted to repay blood for blood, pain for pain, loss for loss. Severus gulped and shook the thoughts away firmly. No. He had thought of it before, he had even dreamed of it but he would never have done it. He wouldn’t hurt an innocent child for the sins of the father. He wouldn’t. Not even he was that evil. Severus banished the depressing thought firmly and focused on the task ahead.

“Come in.” The cheerful voice of Albus Dumbledore called through the door. Severus gulped, took a moment to compose his expression into a perfect blank and sliding open the double doors, he entered gracefully.

The headmaster was sitting on his desk, scribbling hastily on a piece of parchment. His half-moon spectacles were sitting so close to the edge of his nose, they were in danger of falling off. He was wearing his ridiculously bright orange robes, the ones that always made Severus’s eyes ache. He glared. Clothes should never be that bright.

“One moment, Severus. I just need to finish this little letter to the Ministry.” Dumbledore stated cheerfully keeping his eyes on the parchment.

“Certainly, headmaster.” Severus waited quietly taking a moment to compose his thoughts. This was going to be a painfully hard meeting. A fire crackled merrily on the hearth and the stunningly beautiful phoenix was perched next to it, serenely absorbing its heat. Its beak made a clicking sound as it cleaned its bright orange features. For a moment, it stopped its tedious task and turned its head to face Severus. Its eyes, a coal black with flames dancing within them, observed him closely, as if trying to look into his very soul. After a moment, the magical bird gave a satisfied nod, unfolded its large wing and started preening the feathers underneath.

After what felt like too short a time, the headmaster signed the letter with a flourish, put the ridiculously extravagant peacock feather quill on his desk and looked up at Severus. There was a bright dashing smile on his face and Severus felt the sudden urge to stride out of the room and lock himself up in the safety of his solitary dungeons.

“I have come to report as instructed, headmaster.” Severus stated stiffly, his hands clasped behind his back. The headmaster chuckled, his blue eyes twinkling.

“Oh Severus, always so formal.” Severus didn’t feel the need to respond. “Come along then, let’s have a cup of tea and a pleasant chat before any official business. Who knows, maybe I can even get you to lighten up.” The headmaster smiled like a child given a large chocolate ice cream. The expression made him look innocent and sweet but it didn’t fool Severus one bit. He knew how dangerous Dumbledore can become. He had seen and felt the headmaster’s power.

The large wooden chair scraped along the floor as Dumbledore stood up. He was tall, the tallest person Severus had ever met. Next to this great man, Severus always felt dwarfed and unimportant.

“My dear boy, you look grim.” This was the perfect opportunity to tell him and get the worst over with but his tongue refused to obey him. Severus stayed silent as Dumbledore walked towards him. An ancient looking hand was placed on his shoulder and bright blue eyes twinkled at him from behind half-moon spectacles.

“I have had an eventful week.” Severus responded, trying not to be affected by the gentle touch or the concerned smile. With Dumbledore, kindness was always followed by rebuke. It was best to be on his guard, to not let the old man’s words affect him. Hah! Severus thought bitterly. It is more than a decade too late for that.

“Perhaps a good cup of tea will lift your spirits.” A hand was placed on his back and he was guided gently through a small inconspicuous looking door hiding in a corner. It was half hidden by a tapestry depicting an enchanted forest and it looked worn out and disfigured, the wood cracked in places and the paint peeling off in others. How many times had Severus stood here and walked through that very same door? He had lost count.

They both entered into a small unassuming room containing nothing but two plush armchairs in the middle with a rickety table in between. A few shelves with well read books and discolored keepsakes lined the walls. This place looked homely and cozy, like something that could fit perfectly well at the Burrow. It is meant to soothe and calm students and yet Severus was never calm here. The cushions were too soft, the sunlight that streamed in from the large windows was painfully bright and the wallpaper lined with smiling teddy bears was positively revolting. Severus much preferred his gloomy apartments in the cold dank dungeons.

Memories of the first time he walked into this room sifted into his mind. He had been thirteen and a complete wreck back then. He hadn’t done anything wrong but that didn’t stop him from staring at the floor fearfully, waiting for a punishment. He was a Slytherin and a Slytherin was always guilty. At least that is what the other houses, including the great Albus Dumbledore always assumed. Severus was pleasantly surprised to discover that the headmaster only wanted to compliment him on his excellent grades, the best any students of his age has ever gotten. Years have passed since then and Severus has lost count of the number of times he’s had tea with the headmaster in this very room. During his years of teaching, a weekly tea has become a tradition between them, a tradition that Severus loved and dreaded in equal measure.

“Come sit down, Severus. Tell me all about your week. How is your brewing coming along?” Severus gingerly sat down on a canary yellow armchair. The cushions sank down gracelessly, trapping him in that infernal chair. There was a mild pop and a steaming cup of tea appeared before him. He glared at it fiercely. He hated tea! The headmaster chuckled at his expression. Severus directly his glare at the ridiculously dressed old man. Dumbledore only chuckled louder and patted Severus on the knee affectionately.

“What’s the matter, my boy? Is the tea not to your taste?”

“You know that I hate tea, headmaster! It tastes like dirty water.” Severus crossed his arms across his chest, lifted his chin haughtily at the Headmaster and tried his best “you’re being ridiculous” glare, the one he often used on his hapless Gryffindors. It didn’t work. Dumbledore’s eyes only twinkled brighter.

“It’s good for you, my boy. Tea is calming. You need more calm in your life as well as a bit more healthy sunshine and fresh air.”

“Absolutely not! My dungeons are more than sufficient for me.” Dumbledore shook his head with a slightly exasperated smile.

“One of these days, Severus, I’ll take you to a nice beach and get you all tanned up.”

“Headmaster, every summer you invite me to go to the beach with you and Professor McGonagall and every year I refuse. I would think that even someone as stubborn as you would’ve gotten the hint by now.” Dumbledore chuckled and waved his hand over the desk. There was a pop and a plate of cakes appeared. There were more than a dozen, all hideously decorated with sprinkles and different colored icing.

“Now, now, my boy. I don’t see why you are so obstinate about this. You spend every Christmas vacation with us at our Manor house. Don’t you always end up enjoying yourself?”

“Perhaps.” Severus picked up a dark colored cake hiding in the middle of the plate. He flicked his wand at it, getting rid of all the hideous pink and orange sprinkles. Then, tentatively, he took a bite. Dark chocolate cream. Not bad.

“Then why do you always refuse to spend the summer with us, Severus? Who knows, you might end up liking it.”

“It is not the company I object to, although being surrounded by Gryffindors for too long simply cannot be healthy. It is the venue. I have never liked nor will I ever tolerate getting fried on a beach.”

“Ah, Severus. Always so melodramatic.” Dumbledore shook his head and chuckled good naturedly. Severus’s lips twitched mildly. When Dumbledore was like this, Severus almost forgot to be on his guard. He wished it could always be like this between them. Light, mild and pleasant. But things were about to change. The moment he tells the Headmaster how he had failed to protect the Boy-Who-Lived, how he had let the child be cursed and blinded, Dumbledore will look at him, his eyes filled with disappointment, his voice stern and sharp.

Severus took a deep breathe. He was being an oversentimental idiot. There is no point sitting here, procrastinating like a school boy dreading his punishment. He had to tell the Headmaster what happened, receive any rebukes or punishments he saw fit to give and return swiftly back to the child waiting for him in the hospital. He had wasted enough time already. Severus opened his mouth to speak but Dumbledore cut him off.

“You know, you didn’t really answer my question about your potions.” Dumbledore’s expression had turned serious and he was looking at Severus pointedly, a vague hint of suspicion lurking behind them. “Is there any reason you didn’t answer, my boy?” Severus resisted the urge to roll his eyes to the ceiling like a sulky teenager.

“Of course not, headmaster. I just got sidetracked. Your threat of overloading me with sunshine drove everything else out of my mind.”

“Of course, my dear boy, but now you can tell me. What did you brew?” And there it was again. The suspicion.

“A potion that will destroy all of humanity.” Severus’s voice dripped with sarcasm as he glared at his mentor.

“Severus!” It is amazing how much venom could be poured into that one word. No matter who said it, when his name was pronounced sternly, it always sounded like the sibilant hiss of a snake, moments before an attack. Dumbledore’s voice was concerned but stern, like a father who suspects his son of misbehaving. Severus gulped. It is best not to test him anymore. When Dumbledore used that tone, things could get dangerous.

“Healing potions for the hospital wing. That is what I was brewing in my spare time. You yourself ordered me to brew them.” Severus stated coldly, making sure his back was as stiff as a rod. “Are you turning senile, Professor, that you cannot remember such a simple order?”

Pain. Hot burning stabs of pain. Severus yelled and clutched his head in his hand, caught by complete surprise. It felt like needles were poking into his mind. He felt Dumbledore’s raw magic break into his mind, trying to rip away his thoughts, his memories, his feelings. It hurt. It hurt like hell. Severus moaned as memories were rudely snatched away from his brain cells. Him in his school robes, trembling with anger as Potter hexed him. Lucius laughing as he scored a goal for Slytherin. Draco, newborn, wriggling in his arms, a chubby perfect baby. Dolohov in his prison cell with… No! No! No! Not that one. Dumbledore cannot see that one. Quickly. His shields. He needed his Occlumency shields! Severus gritted his teeth against the pain and with a supreme effort, he guided Dumbledore’s magic away from that dangerous memory.

Calm. He must remain calm and in control. Severus straightened his back and took a deep steadying breath. Breathe in. Breath out. Calm, control, indifference. Breathe in. Breathe out. Ignore the pain, it is only a mild distraction. Severus has endured much worse, it is only the surprise that threw him off balance. The pain was nothing. It will not affect him. Breathe in. Breathe out. Slowly, subtly, Severus extracted some memories from his mind, the dangerous ones, the personal ones, the ones that would show his weaknesses, giving the headmaster weapons. And most importantly, the ones about James Potter and Normengard. Dumbledore can never see these. It would be the end of Severus if he ever found out. Slowly, without letting Dumbledore know what he is doing, Severus erected an impenetrable vault of iron in the center of his mind. He placed the memories into it and bolted it shut.

“What other potions have you brewed this summer, my boy?” The headmaster’s voice seemed to come from so far away. It felt like his ears were blocked with cotton plugs.

“A few extra sleeping draughts.” The headmaster’s presence in his mind was sharp, loud and demanding. It felt like someone was hitting his head with a hammer. Severus gritted his teeth, the most powerful invasions were always the most painful but it did not matter. Pain had no effect on him. His mind was a forest of memories, thousands of different paths led to thousands of different thoughts and impressions. Carefully, Severus guided the intruder into safer paths, far away from the vault containing all his precious memories.

“Now, Severus, I hope these potions are for your use only and not for your… friends.” The Headmaster’s words were mild enough but his expression was stern as he looked at Severus through his half moon spectacles, his invading magic pulsing stronger. The headmaster has once caught him smuggling sleeping potions to Eva Parkinson, a convicted death eater who lived alone, deep in the bowels of Azkaban. When he found out, Dumbledore had been furious. Severus shivered internally, that was a memory that was best forgotten.

“Yes, Headmaster.” In truth, Severus had planned to give some of the potions to Lucius and Narcissa but now was not the time for honesty. Severus shook the thought away harshly.

“You better not be lying to me, Severus.”

“Of course not, Headmaster. After all, it’s entirely your fault I am currently in need of so many sleeping draughts. It is you who dumped Potter on my doorstep, was it not?” Severus sneered pointedly. He didn’t know why but he wasn’t ready to tell Dumbledore about his change of heart. He had locked the good memories of Harry in the vault along with so many others.

“Do you have problems sleeping again, Severus?”

“Yes, Headmaster.” Severus was getting a bad headache. The headmaster continued to pound at his defenses, probing through his mind faster and faster. Severus gritted his teeth and held on tight. He needed to stay calm. He needed to be in control. One deep breath after another. He can do this. He is a master Occlumence, able to withstand the attacks of both the dark lord and the light.

“I am sorry, my boy. That must be very trying for you.” Dumbledore ripped open a memory of Severus in his lab. He saw Severus holding a glass vial on the rim of a cauldron and wait for the black liquid within to climb into the glass. It is the potion he brewed yesterday with Potter. Thankfully, he had managed to cut the boy out of that memory.

“And what else have you brewed?”

“The Morteris Potion.” Ah! Damn it, Dumbledore, get out! Severus was gritting his teeth so hard, his jaws were aching. Why did everybody feel the need to poke into his mind? First the Dark Lord subjected him to hours of this torture and now that he finally got a break, Dumbledore had to jump in. Just fantastic! Did no one understand the concept of privacy anymore? Calm. He had to be calm. Anger is a weakness. He must not feel. He is emotionless, a solid unshakeable pillar of stone. He feels no pain, no anger, no grief.

“Ah, of course, the Morteris Potion, better known as fake death. It is useful with your dealings with the Dark Lord and his death eaters. Anything else?”

“No, professor. That is all. Now, if you don’t mind too much, get out of my head!” Severus hissed angrily, leveling his death glare at the wizened old man sitting calmly in front of him. Still, the intruder remained, probing, searching and pounding into his head. Severus just sat there and endured it like he always did devoting all his energies to stop the vault from being discovered.

It felt like an eternity before the headmaster finally left his mind. Severus sighed with relief and let his head fall back onto the cushions. That was close. Too close. At least with the Dark Lord, Severus was always on his guard, the shields continually in place so that he was never caught by surprise. Dumbledore was different, no matter how much he tried to keep the shields in place, he always let his guard down when the kind grandfather made a reappearance. Oh, sometimes Severus just had to shake his head at his own stupidity. He rubbed his temples angrily. How he hated that stupid Legilimency spell! Whoever invented it should be burnt alive.

A moment of uncomfortable silence fell between them as they both waited for the other to speak. Severus was stubbornly refusing to look at the headmaster. Instead, he picked up his tea cup, just so he would have something to do. He glared at the purplish liquid within before taking a small sip. Urgh. Disgusting. It tasted as bad as he remembered. And to make matters worse, it wasn’t the usual tea either. It was one of Dumbledore’s infernal herbal concoctions. Camomile and dried fruits and all manner of ridiculous things mixed together to make an even more ridiculous mix.

Severus watched the steam rising from the cup in lazy waves.
The windows were wide open and blinding sunlight lit every corner of the room. Severus’s eyes were beginning to ache. Great, his headache wasn’t enough, now his eyes had to hurt too. Simply marvelous! He took a deep breath and prepared to tell the headmaster of Mr. Potter’s condition. Procrastinating will be of no use to anyone. Besides, the child was waiting for him. He had to finish here as soon as possible, gulp down a pain potion and return to Harry’s side.

Still, he hesitated. He hadn’t said anything and the Headmaster was already mad at him. What will happen when his mentor found out the truth? Severus stapled his fingers on his lap and tried to remain calm. He was not a schoolboy wanting his teacher’s approval. He was a grown man, he could handle a few rebukes well enough. Severus gulped and opened his mouth to speak. Suddenly, Severus felt a warm thin hand on his shoulder. The gentle touch was familiar and again, it brought so many memories forward. Memories laced with comfort as well as pain.

“I’m so sorry for that, my boy, but it was necessary. There were reports of potions being smuggled into Azkaban again and I just had to see if you had anything to do with it.” Dumbledore sighed, his eyes shining bright with concern. Severus fought to keep his mask in place and his emotions hidden. It is better to maintain his silence.

“You do know that I don’t like to do this to you, don’t you?” The headmaster’s tone was gentle. Severus hated it when he was like that. At least when he was being stern and commanding, Severus could keep his distance. He didn’t have to care. But this, this was different. Severus put the cup back on the table and sneered coldly at the man looking at him with such a warm smile. Why did Dumbledore have to smile and be nice one moment, just long enough to make Severus care and then, the next moment turn harsh and impossible to please?

“It is of no import. Now, moving onto different matters…”

“I am only trying to look out for you, my boy.” Dumbledore patted his back just like he used to do when Severus was thirteen and scared stiff. “I care about you and don’t want to see you going down the dark road again.” Severus nodded, taking another sip of his revolting tea. He didn’t trust himself to speak. All his energy was bent on keeping his mask rigidly in place.

“We both know that you have a dark heart, Severus. After all, when you have so many good people all around you, you keep turning back to your death eater friends.” The cup in his hand trembled lightly. A drop of tea slipped over the top and ran along the sides. Severus took a deep breathe. He had to remain steady, keep his occlumency shields in place. Who knows when he will attack again. It was dangerous to show the headmaster just how much the truth of his words affected him. To his intense embarrassment, his mentor noticed the trembling cup. The look of pity in those familiar eyes unsettled him. Severus looked away.

“You make so many mistakes, Severus, and I have to keep steering you back to the right path.” Gently, the headmaster reached out, took the cup from Severus’s trembling fingers and placed it back on the table. “Don’t get me wrong. I will always be there for you, my boy, but sometimes it gets exhausting.”

“I apologize, Headmaster.” Severus meant to be formal and distant but somehow his voice broke in the middle. His mentor will be so angry with him when he finds out what Severus had done, how he had failed to protect the Boy-Who-Lived.

“That is alright, Severus. Taking care of you is very hard but I will always be here for you no matter what. I have high hopes for you, my boy. With an effort, I think we’ll be able to lessen that dark side of yours, at least a little.” Severus snorted and stabled his hands on his lap again. Stiff, rigid and impassive, that is how he must appear.

“That is highly doubtful.”

“A Gryffindor can always hope.” The headmaster’s eyes twinkled as he sat back in his chair and observed Severus with a fond smile. “You are like a son to me, Severus. I am not willing to give up on you.” Oh Merlin, Severus hated this. He hated how he always ended up disappointing his mentor. No matter what he did, he was never good enough. How could he tell the headmaster what he had done? How could Severus tell Dumbledore that he had failed the one task that was expected of him? The headmaster treated him so well, preferring him to any other staff member or student. Severus knew that Dumbledore was distant with everyone. He never spent so much time with them, never invited them to his home and never told them about his past. It was only Severus that was allowed into his life. And what did he do in return? He consorted with death eaters, he spoke to snakes behind his back, he lashed out at his ward. Oh yes, he made such a fabulous son!

“Be that as it may, headmaster, I am here to discuss other matters.” Severus looked at a spot right above the headmaster’s shoulder. “Mr. Potter is currently…”

“Oh yes, how is dear Harry doing?” Fabulously fantastically, headmaster. Severus thought sarcastically. He is only lying in Saint Mungo with no sight and a weakened body after being cursed by dark magic. Nothing major.

“How are his lessons progressing?” Dumbledore continued obliviously

“His lessons are the least of his worries at the moment, Professor Dumbledore.” The headmaster looked at him with a light frown.

“This isn’t about his living arrangements again, is it? I thought I told you that he is living with you and no amount of arguing will change my mind.”

“Yes, you have been sufficiently clear on that account.” Although after what happened today, you’ll probably reconsider. Severus added silently. Somehow, the thought only made him feel much worse.

“No, headmaster, this matter is much more serious. Mr. Potter is currently ill.”

“What do you mean by that? Is he in danger?” The headmaster leaned forwards in his chair and watched Severus intently. The twinkle in his eye had vanished.

“Yes.” Severus still couldn’t look the man in the eye. He hated how vulnerable he was, how scared he was of the old man’s rejection. He was a Slytherin for crying out loud! He did not care. “Mr. Potter has lost his sight. He is currently at Saint Mango’s in the company of Mr. and Mrs. Weasley.”

“What?” The headmaster’s mouth dropped open. “He has lost his sight? You mean… you mean he’s blind?”

“I’m afraid so, headmaster.” What else could it mean? That he has left his sight somewhere and cannot find it again?

“But… But how can that happen?” It was odd, hearing the most powerful wizard in the world stutter. It was so hard to rattle Dumbledore but it seems like Severus has managed to do just that. Fantastic!

“The details are rather obscure but we do know that someone cursed him.”

“Harry was cursed? Who has done this?”

“I am afraid I cannot answer that. He was cursed by a spell that was designed to activate after a given period of time. Anyone could have cursed him and the worst part is, it is impossible to cure Mr. Potter without first determining what spell was cast.” The headmaster’s eyes widened in shock and fear. He stared at Severus pointedly, at a complete loss for words. He opened his mouth and closed it twice, like a fish who has forgotten he cannot breathe air. Severus frowned at his mentor worriedly. He has never seen the man this lost before. Dumbledore just sat there and stared at him, doing nothing, saying nothing.

“This… this…” Dumbledore stuttered foolishly. Finally, he was making some sounds. Well, Severus supposed it was a minor improvement. “This is not possible. I cannot believe this. This can’t have happened.” Dumbledore was shaking his head repeatedly. His pointed hat fell onto the floor but he didn’t even notice. He just passed a hand over his face and gave a long tired sigh.

“I’ve never, in a thousand years, expected this. Then again, I’m turned into a naïve old man.” Dumbledore collected himself with another dejected sigh. He nodded to himself once, as if making a difficult decision before picking up his hat and adjusting it on his head. He then adjusted his glasses and looked at Severus above the rim, finally giving him his undivided attention.

“This is truly awful news, Severus.” The headmaster stated solemnly, his eyes dull and hopeless. To say that Severus was shocked was an understatement. He has never seen the headmaster this dejected. Where did his optimism go? Why didn’t he say that he could handle everything? He was the great Albus Dumbledore. He always had a solution for everything! Surely worse things than this have happened. Why did he look so hopelessly miserable now? Severus had expected the man to be disappointed and angry with him but this misery was uncharacteristic.

“And yet, the situation is not without hope. If you call the Order of the Phoenix to help, surely we will catch the culprit and restore the boy’s sight.” Severus reminded him calmly. Dumbledore just continued to observe him closely. One of his aged hands was resting lifelessly over the armrest of his chair. Blue veins protruded out of his skin, like dirty rivers sullying the landscape. He looked so old and fragile, so different from his usual easy and confident, although a little eccentric, self. Severus wished there was something he could do to help.

“I am afraid that is not possible.” Dumbledore replied cryptically. Severus frowned. What did that mean? Yes, the order was busy but surely, to restore sight to the Boy-Who-Lived should be first priority.

“May I ask why not, headmaster?” Dumbledore ignored his words.

“Severus, you have to clear up some points for me.” Dumbledore focused his piercing blue eyes on Severus. There was anger there, fierce and bitter anger. Severus gulped. Now here it comes. The anger, the blame. This was more familiar territory but it stung anyway. “Tell me how come you didn’t notice that Harry was cursed before? Did he not show any symptoms of what was lying dormant in his body.” Severus looked away. His hands shaking, he took another gulp of tea. He swallowed too much. The liquid burned him as it travelled down his throat.

“Two night before, I noticed that Mr. Potter had trouble reading words directly in front of him. He stated that he always had poor eyesight but I was suspicious. I didn’t believe it was that bad when he was attending school.” He fought hard to keep his voice firm and impassive.

“And didn’t you think to have him checked?”

“I meant to arrange an appointment with a sight healer the following day but circumstances drove the incident out of my mind.”

“So you forgot?” Severus didn’t respond. He simply took another sip of tea and waited. “Are you saying that you forgot to take the Boy-Who-Lived, the Chosen One, the child I entrusted to you, to a healer when he was ill?” More silence. Severus placed the cup back onto the table. His fingers were trembling too much to hold it still. This time, no gentle hand was placed on his shoulder. No soft fingers extricated the cup from his weakened ones.

“Tell me how do you propose we handle this situation.” Dumbledore stated coldly. Severus looked up in surprise at those words.

“What?”

“Tell me how you were going to solve this mess.” Well, that was odd. Severus had expected Dumbledore to be more severe with him. He thought the man was going to spend hours telling him exactly what a bitter disappointment he was, how he could never do anything right. That was mercifully brief.

“I suggest we view Mr. Potter’s memories of the past few months and locate any suspicious people who have been around him. We can also collect a list of the people he has met and investigate into their lives.” Dumbledore nodded solemnly. His blue eyes were still fixed on Severus intently. There was something unsettling and hostile about that gaze.

“You seem to have given this a lot of thought, Severus.”

“Indeed, I have. I have been with the child for a few hours and in that time, I have thought of the course of action that seems most suitable.”

“I see.” Silence. Dumbledore just sat there, looking sad and grave and never, not once, taking his eyes off Severus. His gaze was intense and penetrating and it seemed to lay bare Severus’s very soul. Something was definitely very wrong.

“Do you remember, Severus, that incident when you were about Harry’s age? The one where you spent weeks in the hospital wing completely blind.” Severus blinked. Well, that was certainly a rather odd shift in topic. Had they not been talking about Mr. Potter?

“Yes, I remember.” Severus nodded with a mild sneer. Of course, he remembered it. How could he forget after everything that had happened that disastrous day? “But I would much rather not talk about that. If I recall, we were discussing Mr. Potter.”

“If I remember correctly, you were cursed too, weren’t you?” Dumbledore continued, ignoring his words. Severus gritted his teeth, trying to not let the anger and disappointment seep through his voice. That was a long time ago. It did not matter now.

“Yes, headmaster,” he replied.

“It’s an odd coincidence, don’t you think, that the same curse you were subjected to when you were around Harry’s age has now affected Harry?”

“I suppose so.” Severus frowned. Did Dumbledore think there was any connection between those two events? But that happened years ago, before Harry was even born.

“Do you remember what you told me that day, Severus?” Severus bristled immediately. He forced his emotions back into his tight mask and looked at Dumbledore coldly. He didn’t like where this was going. He didn’t like it at all.

“I was blind, scared and angry. I suppose I said all manner of things which I cannot remember now.”

“You told me, quite plainly, that James Potter had been the one to curse you. I told you that was nonsense, of course, but you kept insisting that it was him. You always did hate James, didn’t you?” But you didn’t believe me, Severus added bitterly in his mind, you never believed me. Potter had blinded him and left him outside in that cold winter night. He had nearly died but Dumbledore still didn’t believe him. He was a Slytherin so of course he had to be the liar. All Dumbledore had to do was check. If he had cast priori incantatem on Potter’s wand he would’ve seen that Potter was guilty. But no! Dumbledore immediately declared Severus a liar and punished him for weeks. That’s Gryffindor justice for you! Severus took a deep breath and forced his emotions inside himself. He had to remain calm.

“And what has that incident to do with anything?” That’s good. His voice was impassive and under control. His fingers were still.

“Don’t you think that the same person who cursed you might be the one who cursed Harry?” Certainly, Headmaster, James Potter has risen from the grave with his magic intact and cursed his own son. That theory is not absurd at all!

“That is unlikely. It happened such a long time ago.” Severus replied evenly. Accusing Potter again would only make his mentor even more angry. He had no doubt that Dumbledore still wouldn’t believe him.

“And yet there is a person who was involved in both these cases. A person who has both motive and the required skill to perform such dark magic.”

“And who is that?” Severus asked lightly. He couldn’t help the sarcastic tone he used. He knew for a fact that the person who cursed him was dead so the same person couldn’t have cursed Harry. This was a complete waste of time and energy! They had so many memories to go through, so many names to look into. The entire Order of the Phoenix and the staff at Hogwarts should be brought in to help. If Dumbledore insisted on pursuing this senseless theory they would lose valuable time and resources. He had to convince Dumbledore that these two events were not related but how was he going to do that? Dumbledore was very stubborn and headstrong and would never listen to someone else’s advice. An unfortunate downside to being the brightest wizard alive. What ridiculous person was Dumbledore going to blame now?

“What curse was used to blind Harry, Severus?”

“I cannot know, headmaster. That is what we have been discussing. We need to first catch the culprit before we can determine which curse was used.” Dumbledore sighed again. He took off his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose.

“I ask you again, what curse was used?” Dumbledore asked, tiredly. What is the matter with him today? Didn’t he understand what Severus was telling him?

“I told you, I do not know.” Severus repeated slowly, as if trying to speak to a small child.

“For Merlin’s sake, Severus, tell me! You have gone too far this time! What curse did you use on Harry?” Severus blinked. It took a few moments for the information to finally hit him. Dumbledore was accusing him of blinding Harry.

“What!” Severus exclaimed. He stood up abruptly, toppling his teacup in the process. Dark purple tea seeped into the table and turned it a dirty brownish color.

“Do not play dumb with me, Severus.” Dumbledore’s voice was deceptively calm.

“You think I cursed the child! That is absurd! I had nothing to do with this.”

“You have already cast this curse once. Now you have done it again.”

“Headmaster, are you insinuating that I cursed myself all those years ago?”

“Yes, Severus. At the age of thirteen, you were a bright talented child, talented and ruthless enough to know how to cast such dark magic.” Oh dear Merlin! This is ridiculous. This isn’t real. Not only does he refuse to believe that Potter blinded him but now he accuses Severus of blinding himself? That doesn’t even make sense!

“Why? Why would I curse myself? I was blind and helpless for weeks. I wouldn’t do that to myself. No sane person would!”

“You were bitter, Severus. Bitter and jealous. James was a constant thorn in your side. He was rich, popular and had a caring family, all things that you never had. You were willing to do anything to throw a stain on James’s good name, even blind yourself.” Severus sank back into his chair slowly. He felt the sudden urge to start laughing like a maniac. This is just so ridiculous. Potter hexed him, cursed him, imprisoned him and tortured him but Severus was the guilty one? How can Dumbledore be so blind? Why could be never see what Potter was like? How could the greatest wizard of all time be so wrong?

“I admit that maybe I was too harsh on you when you were a student. After all, you were so troubled. I should have been a bit more lenient. A week’s worth of detentions for that incident was too harsh.” Severus was quiet. He didn’t want to speak about this. He didn’t even want to remember this.
“But the thing is, James was such a good boy with a heart of gold. I couldn’t help favoring him over you, who was always bitter and plotting against everyone in the school. I should’ve taken the time to talk to you despite your disrespectful and insulting words. I regret that now, bitterly. There was a lot of good in you back then, I should’ve nurtured it.” No, headmaster. You are wrong. You nurtured me well enough. You took care of me more than anyone had ever done before. You made me care about you and that is why it hurt so much, the blatant favoritism, the way you always looked at me with suspicion no matter how good I tried to be, the way you never ever, no matter how badly I was hurt, believed me. Deep breaths, Severus. Keep calm. The headmaster might decide to cast legilimence on him at any moment. He has to be ready. He felt no anger. He felt no pain. He felt no disappointment. He was not human. He was only a stone pillar, thinking nothing, wanting nothing, hoping for nothing.

“But despite all that, what you have done now is terrible. It was petty and vindictive.” Severus took a deep breathe. He felt nothing. He was made of marble, not of flesh. He was a weapon, not a person. He did not care.

“I have done nothing. Mr. Potter’s blindness has nothing to do with me.”

“You have taken your anger and prejudice out on poor Harry. You have hated him from the moment he has stepped foot into this school. You have been unfair to him, demeaning him at every opportunity but I did not say anything. It was only harmless words, you posed no danger to Harry or so I thought. Now, I see that you have cursed him with…”

“I repeat, Headmaster, it was not me.”

“I didn’t want to believe this. That you, of all people, were capable of this is shocking! Yes, I always knew you weren’t a good person. I love you, my boy, but I am not blind to your faults. You are too fond of your death eater friends, you cannot stop trying to help them. You have tried my patience so many times, Severus, but never did I think that you were capable of this. Blinding a child! How could you do this, Severus?”

“Oh dear Merlin!” Severus hissed. He was running out of patience. He was losing control. This was not good. “How many times can I say this? It. Was. Not. Me. Get that simple information into that thick Gryffindor skull of yours!”

“I trusted you with Harry, Severus, and you betrayed me.” Dumbledore stern eyes glistened with unshed tears, Severus could see the pain and hurt in those expressive blue eyes. Severus gulped. It was not me, headmaster. Please believe me, sir, it was not me. I would never betray you, never.

“Headmaster, you are welcome to peruse all my memories and to check my wand. I have not cast any spell that can induce blindness. You are sorely mistaken.”

“And what use will that be? You are a Master Occlumence, Severus. I look into your mind to see the truth of your words but it’s not a failsafe method. I can never trust what I see inside your mind. And as for the wand, you could’ve very easily used a different one.”

“I will consume a truth potion, then.”

“Long ago, you have made yourself immune to the truth potion. That is no use.” Severus rubbed his temples and fought to keep a clear head. Panicking is not a good solution. He had to come up with a plan and not give into despair. What can he do? How can he make Dumbledore believe his words?

“What exactly are you planning to do, Headmaster? Will you hand me over to the Aurors?” Dumbledore sighed again. He calmly and quietly stared at Severus, his blue eyes filled with sadness and disappointment.

“No, Severus. No matter what you do, I can never watch you get locked up in Azkaban. I will have to deal with you myself.” Severus gulped. That never meant anything good. Severus has experienced both Azkaban and Dumbledore’s punishments. He would rather have Azkaban. He must not panic. Dumbledore does not have any proof. He had enough decency to wait for proof before his punishments. Severus is safe, at least for now. The main problem here is the child. If Dumbledore thinks Severus is responsible, then he won’t look for the real culprit. That is simply horrible. At this rate, how can Mr. Potter ever get his sight back?

“Now, my boy, I will look the other way and choose to ignore what you have done. After all, no permanent damage has been done. All you have to do is tell me which curse you used.”

“Brilliant. Now, all that remains for me to do is find the name of an unknown curse I did not cast.” Severus stated bitterly glaring up at the old man.

“That attitude is not helping, Severus.” He glared some more. Maybe there was a way out of this situation. He will go and recover the child’s memories and find the culprit himself. Severus will capture the criminal and bring him to Dumbledore and all this nonsense will be over. A voice in the back of his head reminded him that one of his friends might have done this, maybe even Lucius or Narcissa. How can he hand them over to Dumbledore? Severus banished those thoughts immediately, one step at a time.

“Headmaster, I will prove to you that I am not responsible for this. I will question Mr. Potter thoroughly and I will find the culprit myself. That way you will have no choice but to believe my words.”

“I am afraid I cannot let you do that, Severus. After what you did to the child, I can’t let you anywhere near him again.” Severus blinked. What? He will never see Harry again? That… that is not possible. Severus felt as if a stone had lodged itself in his throat.

“But… but, I have to go see him.”

“Why, Severus? You hate Harry. Why would you want to see him?”

“Because I gave my promise that I would return to him at the end of the day.” Dumbledore eyebrows rose in surprise.

“Severus, surely you can see that Harry will be better off with someone else. He is blind and hurt. He wants someone who can love him and comfort him. He doesn’t need and he definitely doesn’t want you.” Could that be true? Severus frowned, worriedly. Was the child really better off with someone else? What can Severus offer him that Mr. and Mrs. Weasley cannot offer? Nothing. They would take much better care of Harry than he ever could. They were fantastic parent while he was cold, stern and not to mention scary. Children take one look at him and run away, afraid of the man in black. Why would Harry ever want someone like him?

“Harry will be moved to the Borrow where I understand his friend Miss Granger is also staying. It is the best situation for all of them.” And yet, Severus couldn’t forget the way Harry had clung to him this morning, how he practically begged Severus not to go. Even when he heard the Weasleys outside the door, he had still insisted on keeping Severus beside him. For some bizarre reason, the child wanted him. Maybe it was simply because he felt safer with the dark and dour Severus and not because he cared for him. Still, Severus cannot disappoint the child and he most certainly will not go back on his word. He has to go see Harry today, no matter what the headmaster said.

“No, headmaster. I promised the child that I will see him at the end of the day and I will not go back on my word. I will ask him if he wants to live with the Weasleys and if he replies in the affirmative, I will personally escort him to the Borrow and sign over all guardianship to the Weasleys.”

“That is out of the question, Severus. You have cursed Harry and now you expect me to just let you walk up to him? No, my boy, that is not possible.”

“But you are the one who insisted the boy stay with me in the first place!” Severus hissed angrily. “I have not cursed that child and you are wasting your time arguing with me when you could be out there looking for the real culprit!”

“Stop this foolishness, Severus! I know that you did it. You are the one who blinded Harry and that is why he is no longer safe with you. When I forced you to take him in, I never thought you would be capable of something like this but now I know better.” Severus took a single deep breathe. He has to keep a clear head. He has to stop being hurt by Dumbledore’s words. The man wouldn’t believe him, he never did. There was no point in trying to convince him of his innocence. If Severus wants to keep his promise to Harry, he has to agree with Dumbledore and let him take the child to the Borrow. Then, the moment Severus gets out of here, he will cast a disillusionment spell on himself and sneak into the Weasley residence. He will find the child and inform him of everything that has happened and make sure that he is happy and well taken care of. Next, he can devote his energies to finding the real culprit and maybe if Harry’s sight is restored and his innocence proven, Dumbledore might even consider letting Harry live with him again. Only if the child wishes it, of course.

“Very well, headmaster. I am a man of my word and breaking a promise, even one made to Mr. Potter, is bitter indeed.” Severus stated coldly, forcing his plans to the back of his mind. “But, since it seems I have no choice in the matter, I will accept the situation.” Dumbledore nodded and stood up slowly. He seemed tired, as if every limb in his body was weighed down by grief. Severus felt sorry for the man. He really did believe that his beloved Severus would do something like this. That must hurt.

“Come, Severus. I have work to do now. We will discuss this again very soon. You are being very stubborn now but one way or another, I will get this information out of you eventually. I’m begging you, my boy, do not force me to use any harsh methods on you.” Severus stood up and said nothing. What could he say? For once, Dumbledore was wrong. He didn’t do anything. Usually, Severus did something to earn Dumbledore’s punishments but this time, it was different. He was innocent. Surely that must count for something.

Mutely, Severus followed Dumbledore out of the room and into his office where the phoenix was still carefully preening his feathers. He crooned delightedly when Severus walked up to him and gave him a pat on the head. The feathers were warm under his touch as he stroked them but it didn’t dispel the chill that Severus was feeling. He hated this, leaving Dumbledore’s office after such a horrible meeting. Was there nothing he can do to bridge the gap between them? Severus turned to look at the headmaster who was standing directly behind him.

“Goodbye then, headmaster. I did not curse the child and I will prove it to you as soon as possible.” Severus nodded his head stiffly at the old man before walking up to the fireplace. He took a handful of the grey powder and threw it into the flames. He spoke the name of his destination clearly and concisely before stepping into the mass of green. Finding Harry was the first thing on his mind as he vanished from sight, engulfed by a flurry of ash and flames.

………..

He stepped out into a disgustingly purple room filled with orange polka dots. What the hell? A big white dog, half the size of Severus was wagging his tail at him and barking furiously, demanding to be petted. Outside the window, Severus could see the wide expanse of a large blue lake opening up in front of him and distant mountains framed its shores. Severus glared all around him. What in Merlin’s name was he doing here? This is not his house, this is Healer’s Touch, Dumbledore’s residence in the middle of Ireland. He had spoken the name of his destination correctly, why then did the floo bring him here? He heard the hiss of the flames behind him. Severus spun around sharply and came face to face with Dumbledore. He looked sad and more than a little scared as he looked at Severus sheepishly. He didn’t step out of the fireplace, he only watched Severus as if he was a wild beast ready to rush at him at any moment.

“What the hell am I doing in your home, Headmaster?” Severus hissed angrily.

“I am afraid I cannot let you wonder around the country freely, not until you tell me what curse you cast. The doors and windows are locked, the floos have been disconnected. I charmed this floo so that it would bring you here but you will no longer be able to use it. Only I can use it now.” Severus took a deep breathe, trying to fight the growing sense of panic. How can he prove his innocence if he is kept a prisoner? And the child? How can he keep his promise now? The child will think Severus disserted him in his time of need? No. This simply cannot be allowed to happen. He needed to get out of here.

“Every criminal has a right to defend himself when he is accused. You say you care about me and yet, you imprison me without even giving me the chance to prove my innocence.”

“I will search for proof, Severus. I will go over your potions lab and check your wand. You must understand, my boy, I do not want you to be guilty but in my heart I know that it is true. Your unjustified hate for James knows no bounds.” Severus was getting desperate. There must be a way out of this. There simply must be.

“Headmaster, let me go. I have a delicate potion that I must attend to, one that is crucial to the current research I’m conducting.” Severus lied smoothly. Let this work. Please, dear Merlin, let this work. The poor child! He must be waiting for Severus. The dog was now pressing its wet nose into Severus’s palm. Lemon was getting impatient, he growled menacingly up at Severus, demanding attention. “I will make a solemn wizard’s oath that tomorrow morning, I shall return to this home. Just let me go tonight.”

“I am sorry, Severus, but this situation is much more serious than any potion.” Severus’s heart sank.

“Dumbledore, let me go!”

“Do not worry, my boy. I will not harm you. Not yet, at least, and not ever if you cooperate and tell me what I need to know.”

“Do not worry?! You are imprisoning me, headmaster!”

“I’m sorry, Severus. I will treat you well. Your room is already prepared for you. It always is and my house elves, as you know very well, are completely at your service. They will get you anything you need. Now, I really have to go. I have an important meeting with the Minister of Magic.” Dumbledore murmured something and the green flames rose high, concealing him from sight.

“No, headmaster, wait! You cannot leave me here!” But it was too late. Dumbledore vanished from sight. The flames turned orange and Severus was left staring at the painfully bright fire with no way to keep his promise. Harry would wait, listening for his guardian’s footsteps until his eyes fell closed from exhaustion but Severus would not come. Oh Merlin, what will the child think of me now?

--------- HP ---------

Harry was exhausted. Nothing was going well. The bed was too springy, the noises all over the Burrow were too loud, the food was tasteless. He felt so tired, his mind and his body felt heavy. His thoughts were disjointed and most of the time they didn’t even make any sense. Harry sighed and rolled around in his bed for the thousandth time. The springs squeaked under him and, for an instant, Harry thought he could hear footsteps outside his bedroom door. Harry bit his lip and waited, hoping that whoever it was would just go away. He didn’t have the energy to deal with anyone right now, not Mr. and Mrs. Weasley with their concerned voices, not even Ron and Hermione with their helpful suggestions of how Snape had poisoned him. He just wanted to be left alone.

Thankfully, the footsteps retreated down the stairs, each wooden board creaking with every step. Harry sighed heavily and rolled around to his left. The smell of a barbecue was wafting in through the window. Harry’s stomach grumbled like rocks rolling down a mountain. When did he eat last? He couldn’t remember. Certainly, Mrs. Weasley had tried to coax him into eating plates and plates filled with God knows what but Harry had barely taken more than a few bites. The food felt like gum in his mouth and when he swallowed, it stuck painfully to his throat. It was all Harry could do to gulp down the potions that were shoved into his mouth every morning. The potions were supposed to make him feel better, giving him back the energy that was taken away but he still felt awful. Nothing helped. He couldn’t eat, he couldn’t sleep, he couldn’t rest.

Why had Snape abandoned him? He’d promised. He said he was going to come back that very day but he didn’t come back. Harry had waited all day and all night, waiting for him to show up. There was an ancient cuckoo clock in the living room. Every hour a wooden bird would jump out of the clock and start chirping shrilly and loudly so that everybody in the house would hear it. Harry had sat in his bed and listened to that stupid bird, hour after hour, waiting for Snape. The others had all gone to bed but Harry had lain awake, refusing to give up hope. The clock stuck ten, eleven and finally, the stroke of midnight had struck, officially ending the day but still, Harry had refused to fall asleep. Snape had promised. He would come. But he didn’t come. Not that day and not even the day after.

Now, three days have passed but the man still didn’t come. Why? Harry thought he cared. Snape had been so nice, teasing him, taking care of him, striking deals with him. Why had he suddenly disappeared? Didn’t he know that Harry needed him? Harry sighed again. He was going mad locked up in this room, waiting, always waiting for Snape to show up. Because no matter how much time passed, Harry still continued to hope. He groaned, grabbed his stupid pillow and threw it at the wall as hard as he could. Crack. Something fell and shattered into a thousand fragments. Harry was an idiot. A complete and utter fool. Snape was not coming back. Dumbledore had shipped him off to the Weasleys and Snape was no longer stuck with him. Why would he come back? He had gotten rid of Harry, his most annoying student. Wasn’t that what he always wanted? Why the hell would he come back? He was probably back in his lab locked up with his creepy jars filled with floating eyeballs and body parts. Snape must be busy stirring his cauldrons and chopping his ingredients. Did he even remember Harry? Did he remember the promise he made? Probably not.

It wasn’t fair! None of this was fair! All Harry had wanted when this summer started was to live in the Burrow but now that he was finally here, he couldn’t stop thinking about Snape. It’s not fair. It’s not fair. The stupid bat abandoned him. He was an idiot and Harry shouldn’t even be thinking about him. He had the Weasleys and he had his friends. Wasn’t that enough? He should be happy. Well, not completely happy since he was still blind, but at least he should be comfortable, not lying awake in his bed, straining to hear every voice, hoping it would be Snape. This was getting ridiculous! Harry didn’t care about Snape! He didn’t care. He didn’t care. He really didn’t care. The stupid git can go stuff himself for all Harry cared! He flexed his fingers, wishing he had something else to throw. Something big and heavy that would leave a big hole in that stupid wall.

There was a knock at the door, a soft hesitant knock, a gentle rapping on the wood. Harry quickly buried himself under the blankets and pretended to be asleep. Go away. Just go away. He didn’t want to talk to anyone right now.

“Harry, dear?” It was Mrs. Weasley. Her voice was soft and quiet. She seemed almost afraid to talk to him. Harry gulped, feeling slightly guilty. He hadn’t been the best patient these last three days. He had refused to eat, he had greeted their friendly words and warm hugs with a stony silence, and he had snapped at them angrily when they insisted too much. He was acting like a real idiot. The Weasleys and Hermione were the only friends he had. He had already lost Snape and at the rate he was going, he would lose them too. He was a big fat idiot. Why can’t he just forget about the stupid dungeon bat and be grateful for the Weasleys? They were willing to take care of him and take him in when he was weak and vulnerable, not like Snape who had lied to him and left him all alone. The damn, stupid, heartless, bloody…

“Harry, sweetie, it’s lunch time.” Harry shut his eyes tight, not that it made any difference but old habits die hard. “We’re having a barbecue. There are grilled potatoes, roasted chicken, sausages and we even have a big cake to cut afterwards.” Harry grit his teeth tight and pretended not to hear. The last meal he had with Snape tasted awful. It didn’t matter whether it was the muggle world or the wizard world, hospital food was just disgusting. Still, Harry would give anything to be there right now with Snape feeding him. His deep baritone voice would tease him and call him a silly twit but Harry wouldn’t mind. In fact he liked it. He would exchange a thousand of the Weasleys’ sweeties and dearies to be called a silly stubborn Gryffindor again. Harry groaned and buried his head in his pillow. What is wrong with him? Why did he keep wanting a man who didn’t care one fig about him?

“Will you come down, Harry, or would you like me to bring some food up here?” Harry sighed. She just wasn’t going away. Poor Mrs. Weasley. It wasn’t her fault he missed Snape. She was doing her best and Harry should at least try to be nicer.

“I’m not hungry, Mrs. Weasley.” Don’t come in. Just leave me alone. Don’t come in. The door creaked slowly open. Harry groaned and dug his fingers into his blanket. Why couldn’t they just leave him alone? There was a rustling sound of fabric and the tap tap of wooden shoes on the floor. The bed sank as Mrs. Weasley gingerly sat on the edge of it. She smelled of spices and apples and the hand that ran through his hair was heavy and warm. Harry couldn’t help remembering how Snape had done just that when he was sitting in the children’s ward. His touch was different. It was cold and more hesitant, only a brief tap on the head and yet it felt the world to Harry. He gulped as he felt his eyes tear up. He wasn’t going to cry. Not in front of Mrs. Weasley, not because of a man who had abandoned him. He was being a silly pathetic weakling.

“Oh, Harry!” A single tear had slipped from under his wet eyelashes. A warm hand brushed it away gently. “You poor dear! This must be awful for you. Don’t worry, precious, Professor Dumbledore will figure something out. He will fix you in no time.” But that’s not what I want. I want my professor back. He sighed and buried his head deeper into his pillow. He couldn’t breathe but that was okay. It was better than embarrassing himself like some pathetic baby.

“Oh sweetie! Don’t cry! It will all be over in no time, you’ll see. It’ll be alright. Everything will be alright.” Mrs. Weasley pulled him into a hug. She patted his back and rocked him back and forth as if he really was a baby. Harry’s cheeks burned. He hoped that nobody else would walk in and see him like this. It was embarrassing! He hugged her back anyway and held on tight. He was just so tired. He wished he had never met the bloody stupid dungeon bat. This was all Snape’s fault! Why did he have to make Harry care?

“Has…” Harry took a deep breathe. He hated how hopeful he was, even after all this time, he still waited. “Has anyone come by to see me? Maybe with some information about who cursed me.”

“No, Harry.” His heart sank and he sighed heavily. What had he been expecting? That Snape had come by when he was sleeping and left some sort of message? When will he grow up! Adults can never be counted on. They always had soothing words but in the end, they all left. Nobody cared. Harry will always be alone.

“But that doesn’t really mean anything! Professor Dumbledore has been very busy these past few days. He didn’t have time to drop by and fill us in but that doesn’t mean he didn’t find anything! Maybe he already has the countercurse.”

“Maybe.” Harry agreed half-heartedly. Snape had promised him that he would come and tell Harry if he found out anything important but then again, the man had broken one promise. What’s to say, he won’t break another?

“Anyway, we’ll know for sure this afternoon. Everybody will be here, including Dumbledore. So, whatever he knows, in a few hours, he’ll tell us.”

“What’s happening this afternoon?” Harry asked. He finally managed to disentangled himself from Mrs. Weasley’s embrace and hide back under the blankets.

“We have an order meeting. Of course, you children can’t listen in but we’ll tell you anything that comes up about this curse. Even…”

“Is everyone from the order coming this afternoon?” Harry sat up on the bed, a thought suddenly striking him. The blankets rolled off him and flopped unceremoniously onto the floor. “Is Sn… Who is coming?”

“Well, there is Professor Dumbledore, of course. Then there are Alastor, Remus, Kingsley, Tonks. All people you haven’t met, I’m afraid, but they’re wonderful. They’ll all be delighted to meet you.”

“Are any of my professor coming to the meeting? The ones
that are in the order?”

“Let’s see. Which of your professors are in the order?” Mrs. Weasley thought for a few seconds tapping her fingers on a nearby desk. Snape! Snape! He’s in the order! He’s the ex-death eater, the spy, the man nobody can really figure out. How can you possibly forget him? Harry bit his lip and waited.

“Oh yes! Professor McGonagall is coming, along with Professor Flitwick and dear Hagrid will also drop by for a few minutes!” Harry sighed again and flopped back onto the bed. Snape isn’t coming. It was all pointless. He would never see the man again and he should be happy about it. No more wondering if he was evil or not. No more walking on eggshells around the man, afraid he will get angry and snap at him. Everything was back to normal. Just bloody brilliant!

“Oh, and there’s Professor Snape, of course.” Mrs Weasley added casually. Harry drew in a deep breathe. He was coming. Snape was finally coming. Will he come to see how Harry is doing or will he simply attend the meeting and walk away? No! He couldn’t do that to Harry. Harry had waited a long time to see that bloody git and he will talk to the man whether he wanted to or not. He’ll confront Snape and ask him where the hell he has been for so long. Why didn’t he keep his promise? Why didn’t he at least come and check on Harry? Oh, Snape had some explaining to do alright. This evening, he’ll come and Harry will be waiting for him.

--------- AD ---------

In the dim glow of a single candle, an old man sat on a wooden chair. It was croaking ominously, as if it would fall apart at any second. Black mold covered the chair, leaving black splotches on its rotting wooden beams. Cobwebs clung to it jealously and little spiders scuttled back and forth on the silver threads. Some even scuttled over the wizard’s shoulders and creeped into his long white beard but he didn’t notice. He was sitting still and quiet except for the occasional sigh that escaped from his parted lips. The candle cast an eerie yellow glow on the right side of his face, leaving the left side in complete shadow.

“My boys.” He whispered hoarsely. He looked so tired, his skin crumpled like a piece of parchment ready to be thrown aside. His shoulders were hunched and his whole body sagged with the weight of the hundred and fifty years he had lived in this world. If anyone saw this man tonight, they would never recognize him. They would never believe that this wizened old man was none other than the great and powerful Albus Dumbledore. He didn’t look powerful tonight. He didn’t look tall and imposing. He was only another old man who looked inches away from his grave.

Today, July 1st, was not a good day. In fact, it was the worst day of the year. It was the anniversary of his sons’ deaths and he had spent the day as he always did, locked up in this room, the events of that day playing themselves over and over in his mind. It was like a nightmare but worse, much worse. It had happened. Merlin, even now, after ninety years, everything still seemed so unreal.

There was a quick scurrying of tiny feet in the dark. The rats were coming out to watch the great man’s grief, their eyes glowing red in the dark. Albus sighed heavily. His claw like fingers clutched a single photograph gone brittle and yellow with age. The faces in the photo were blurred, their strong sharp features had faded, leaving nothing but a vague outline behind. There were three people in the photograph, one middle aged man and two teenage boys. The man smiled happily at the camera, one hand resting fondly over each of their shoulders. It was hard to believe that this man with broad muscular shoulders and a thick mane of brown hair was the Albus Dumbledore of a hundred and ten years ago but it was true. This was a younger and much more happier Albus with both his sons standing tall and proud beside him.

Denis, the one on his right, was smiling happily at the camera. One hand was closed around a golden snitch and he waved it proudly into the air, his chest puffed up with pride. In the other hand he clutched a broomstick. It was large and clumsy compared to the modern day models but back then, it was the height of fashion. Ah, his poor boy had been so fond of Quidditch. He had been captain of the Gryffindor Quidditch team for three years running and each time they had won the Quidditch cup. He was a great captain and a great friend and best of all, he had been the perfect son.

On Albus’s right, stood his younger son, Tyrus. He was the exact opposite of his beaming brother. A fierce scowl distorted his features and his arms were crossed defiantly across his chest. A green snake was curled around his shoulders and it flicked its red tongue at the camera. He was a Slytherin loner, the boy that nobody liked, not his teachers, not his classmates, not even the family owl. Only Albus had loved him. Only his father had overlooked all his sharp words, gloomy silences and fierce moods. Oh, Tyrus, you were everything to me! You were the one I constantly worried over, you were the one I kept by my side. Even now, ninety years after your death, you are the one who haunts my nightmares. It is your face I keep seeing in the back of my mind, a constant reminder of my failure.

And yet, despite all the time Albus spent with his little boy, despite how fiercely Albus loved him, he had not known Tyrus at all. He had not known what a dark heart was concealed under that familiar body. Everybody had warned Albus. They had told him again and again. Tyrus is evil. He hurts the other children, he practices dark magic, he cuts up animals and uses them for blood rituals. Do something! They yelled. Send him to see a mind healer or send him to reformation camp. Just do something before it’s too late! But Albus had done nothing. He had chosen to be blind to the truth and do nothing. He’s just a boy, he will grow out of it, Albus had responded. He’s just having a bit of harmless fun. I’m sure you didn’t see blood, only some red paint. The other children are liars, his son would never hurt anyone. Excuses. They were all nothing but excuses. The truth had been too painful for Albus to face. Tyrus was evil.

But in the end, on that grim day, on July the 1st, Albus had been forced to accept the truth. The rose tinted glasses had been shattered, forcing him to accept reality. As Albus stared at the photograph, his mind wondered back to that day of ninety years ago, the day he will never forget…

There was a storm raging outside. It was ten o’clock in the morning but outside was pitch black. He could hear the violent clashing of thunder and the steady rhythm of the rain beating against the windowpanes. Albus was not supposed to be home. He was supposed to be away in Madrid, celebrating his latest triumph at work with all his auror friends. He had no business being inside the house on this day, at this hour. If he had stayed away, he might not have seen… But he hadn’t stayed away. He had come home early, anxious to patch things up with Denis. They had had a terrible fight. It was about Tyrus. Denis had accused his younger brother of such awful things, things that couldn’t possibly be true. Why would he say such things? Albus had gotten mad, he had yelled at the boy, telling him that he was being ridiculous. Tyrus would never do such things. Why did Denis always have to complain about his little brother? Can’t he understand that Tyrus was just misunderstood? There was nothing wrong with him, he was a perfectly good boy. A little odd, of course, but there was nothing wrong with that. Tyrus was special, unique. Why couldn’t Denis understand that? Why does he always have to complain. It was childish and petty. It was maddening.

Albus took a deep breath as he climbed up the stairs towards Denis’s bedroom. This will not do. He had to remain calm. He wasn’t here to have another argument, he was here to patch things up. He didn’t want his Denis to be angry with him. Maybe he could get the two brothers into a room together, he could make them sit down and talk things over. They were brothers. They shouldn’t argue. They shouldn’t hate each other. Yes, that was a good idea. Albus allowed himself to feel hopeful as he climbed up to the second floor where his sons’ bedrooms stood, side by side. He had been going to knock on Denis’s door. That was his plan. To talk to his elder son, calm him down and explain the situation thoroughly. So why was it that he turned to Tyrus’s door instead? He didn’t really know. Maybe it was instinct. Maybe it was a sixth sense that warned him that something was not quite right.

A huge boom come from outside. The entire house seemed to shake to its foundations. The roof above his head groaned like an angry beast woken from its slumber. It sounded as if something had fallen onto the roof. The big pine tree towering over the house, perhaps. Or maybe lightening had struck the north tower. Albus should’ve been interested. He should have looked up, worried that the roof was going to crumble but he didn’t do any such thing. He barely noticed the thuds and the booms coming from outside. He didn’t notice anything but the door he was about to open. Nothing was wrong. Everything is just as it should be. Then, why did he feel the hair at the back of his neck rising? Why did he feel goosebumps rising up and down his arms?

With a single shove, Albus pushed the door open. And there they were, his sons. At first, Albus didn’t understand what he was seeing. He didn’t believe this was real, he didn’t want to believe this was real. He just stood there, frozen on the threshold.

Denis was lying on the ground, his arms and legs spread apart. Albus could almost believe he was sleeping if not for the eyes, piercingly bright blue eyes were staring at Albus, wide-open, unseeing. Then, he saw the blood, so much blood. It had gathered around the ground in a glistening pool. It had soaked into his white shirt, turning it an eerie pink. And above his mangled body stood the tall imposing figure of Tyrus Dumbledore. A long thin knife was clutched firmly in his left fist. Blood flowed over the polished silver blade. It gathered at the tip for a fraction of a second. And then, it dropped onto the red pool, causing ripples to form on its smooth glistening surface. Drip. Drip. Drip.

Tyrus started to laugh. It was a low dark chuckle, a feral sound coming deep from his throat. It was so familiar. Albus had heard it a thousand times before. The wind rushed in from an open window. Tyrus’s black robes bellowed dramatically behind him. It was a nightmare. It was nothing but a nightmare. This cannot be real. Albus still stood frozen, not doing anything, not saying anything, just standing. And the blood continued to drip from the knife, from the black robes, from the long black hair. Drip. Drip. Drip….

Albus blinked, letting the memory go. That was enough. He didn’t want to remember any more. All day long he had sat in this chair, in the very room where the murder had taken place, and replayed that awful day over and over again inside his mind. It had become a tradition with him. For ninety years he has done this and he will always continue to do this.

Albus looked down at the photograph in his hands. The one where they were both alive and well. Albus stared at Tyrus’s face. His youngest son sneered back at him disdainfully. What was he thinking at this moment? Had he already turned dark when this picture was taken? Was there already murder in his heart? When did it begin? When did the evil start to consume him? Had it grown gradually inside him or had it been there all along, from the moment he was born. Had it been buried inside his heart, waiting to come out at the right moment? Albus knew the answer. He had known all along, even though he had tried his best to ignore the truth. Tyrus had always been evil. He had always loved the dark. He had always enjoyed the pain and the misery of others. He was fascinated with dark magic and obscure potions. Evil was in his very nature. It was an undeniable part of him.

And yet… what if Albus had done things differently? What if he hadn’t closed his eyes to his evil nature? What if instead of ignoring the truth, Albus had tried to battle the evil inside Tyrus? He could’ve been tougher on Tyrus, he could have used any means necessary to stop the evil from growing out of control. He could’ve used fear and intimidation. He could have terrified Tyrus into modifying his behavior. It sounds awful when he thought about it but it could’ve helped, it could’ve changed what happened on that July the 1st. Now, both his sons were dead. The aurors had come. There was a fierce battle and Tyrus had died that same day, bringing two other aurors down with him. His soul was lost. It was over for him. And Albus couldn’t help thinking that it was all his fault. He should have seen the truth, he should’ve been tougher. He should have done anything to save Tyrus’s soul.

The candle on the table flickered. The snake on Tryus’s shoulder seemed to come alive, its glowing green scales slithering on white skin. Merlin, it looked awful. That creepy animal clutching his son, almost strangling him. Why had Tyrus loved snakes so much? It was an outward sign of the evil growing inside his soul. Albus knew that now, but back then, he had been oblivious. Tyrus had been a parcelmouth. He had kept a collection of snakes inside his room. At all hours of the day, snakes of different shapes and sizes used to crawl around the house, their red tongues flicking, their voices hissing. And Tyrus used to hiss along with them. As he grew older, he used English less and less. Instead, he kept hissing all day long in that awful language. Merlin, how had Albus not noticed that his son was evil? It had been so obvious. Love had made him blind.

An angry thumping of boots came from above his head. Albus looked up suddenly, woken from his reverie. Someone was pacing up and down in a room on the third floor. It must be Severus. He was the only living creature inside this house, apart from Lemon and the house elves. Severus was talking. His voice was low and venomous. It sounded almost like the hiss of an angry snake. He must be harassing the house elves again, asking them to let him out. He’s been locked up here for three days and he was getting impatient. Albus shook his head. He won’t let Severus out. Not until he gives Albus the information he needs. Albus has been weak once before in his life and it cost him the soul of his youngest son. He will not make the same mistake twice. No, he will not be lenient with Severus. He will not close his eyes to the boy’s evil nature and ignore the truth because of love. He will be hard and exacting and he will crush the evil inside Severus one way or another. This boy was his second chance and Albus will not fail him. He will save Severus’s soul no matter what.

Albus straightened himself up. A startled insect fell from his beard and rolled under the table. The wizened old man was fading and Albus Dumblebore, the most powerful wizard of all time was returning. He reached into his robes and pulled out his golden pocket watch. He clicked on the top button and with a sharp snap the lid opened, revealing a clock face covered with tiny moons and stars. They glowed in the semi darkness, dancing back and forth between the stylish numbers. The hour hand and the minute hand had blended together and they pointed at the number 12. Midnight has passed. July the 1st was over. It is time to say goodbye to this room and all the gloom and misery it represents. Albus had much to do. So many people depended on him, especially Severus. His boy, his second chance. Albus needs to take care of him, he needs to watch him constantly, making sure that the evil inside him was under control. He couldn’t afford to let the bad memories cloud his judgement, not when Severus’s very soul depended on him. No, it is time to go back to his normal life, to leave behind this dark day. Early tomorrow morning, he will go and speak to Severus. He will not ignore what the boy has done.

Albus stood up and walked towards the door. The walls seemed to close in around him. There were hundreds of creepy pictures covering the walls, pictures of people being tortured and killed. They were Tyrus’s idea of decorations. Albus forced himself not to look at them as he passed. The day was over. The past must return back to the shadows, leaving the present unburdened. Still, Albus could feel hundreds of painted eyes watching him as he opened the door. He could picture their faces stretched into an expression of shock and fear. Albus crossed the threshold and was about to close the door, to bolt it shut for another year but he couldn’t resist it. He looked back into the room once. His eyes found the large stain in the center of the room, the place where the blood had soaked into the wooden boards. Then, with a firm flick of his wand, Albus closed the door and sealed it shut.

--------- AD ---------

Severus was in the library, of course. When he wasn’t brewing potions he was busy leafing through books. Albus smiled fondly as he watched Severus, his nose completely buried in a large leather-bound volume.

The library was enormous. The walls couldn’t be seen and the ceiling disappeared above their heads. There were only books, thousands and thousands of books arranged into shelves that reached from floor to ceiling. Usually the library was the quietest room in the house. A silence reigned, a silence so intense that every shuffle, every deep breath could be heard all around the room. The cackle of the fireplace was the only sound such a room was permitted to have but the library at Healer’s Touch was different, it was alive. There was movement everywhere. Books rearranged themselves, jumping from one section to the next with heavy thumps. The long rows and rows of shelves were filled with movement. No book every stayed still for too long. They switched places, whizzed into the air to levitate all around the room, they piled themselves up onto a nearby table.

But the oddest part of the library were the animals. Thousands of origami animals made from book pages whizzed around the room making a chaos of noise. Dragons, hippogriffs, owls and other magical creatures flew above their heads, their paper wings bearing them higher and higher until they disappeared from sight. Lions ran through the hallways, their paper manes flying in the wind and their mouth open in a mighty roar. Some were so small, it was easy to crush them while others were so big that they could knock you over with a single bound.

A fist sized paper owl was watching Albus, its head cocked to the side, its big eyes curious. Albus chuckled and walked over to give the owl a pat on the head. The paper crunched as Albus patted it. The animals were entirely Albus’s idea of course. They were a fantastic addition to the old room, something to give it a new spark of life. Of course, Severus didn’t share this open minded view. He said that a library without silence was no library at all. And look at him now, sneering at a monkey that was trying to hop onto his shoulders. Severus was hissing something at the poor creature, possibly a venomous insult or an invitation to go to the devil. But the monkey was persistent. He was jumping up and down on the table in front of Severus, demanding attention. In desperation, Severus flung a book at its head but the creature only dodged it and playfully stuck its tongue out at the esteemed potions master.

“Urgh! You infernal monkey! Stop jumping on my books and get out of my sight!” Severus hissed, his voice rising above the chaos of animalssounds around him. Albus chuckled. Good old Severus, always so easily provoked. Severus was always like that. Even when he was a student, he was an avid reader and if someone disrupted his quiet reading time, he would send a dead glare and a few insults in their direction.

Severus was so fond of books, novels especially. If there was a book to keep him company, he was satisfied. When Severus was fourteen, he contracted Dragon pox and Albus had taken care of him. At first he was utterly miserable and complaining about everything but when Albus started reading novels to him, he became as quiet as a lamb. He would sit there on the bed, his eyes half closed with exhaustion but they were still fixed on Albus’s face as he listened, completely riveted. Albus sighed internally. He shouldn’t be thinking like this, it wouldn’t make his task any easier but what can he do? He was a sentimental old man. He can’t help caring for Severus even if the sentiment was not returned. Severus’s heart might be of stone but his wasn’t. No, his heart was filled with love like a proper man walking in the light.

“If you wouldn’t mind too much, headmaster, quit staring at my face with that infernal twinkle in your eyes and get this idiotic creature off me!” At that moment, a lion as small as a fist trotted up to Severus and tried to chew at the hem of his robes. He let out a hiss of frustration and let the book in his arms drop. There was a loud thud and the paper lion was squashed. “Honestly, pages were meant to be read in blessed silence not folded and transformed into useless beasts!” Albus only chuckled at the familiar words.

“I see that you’re enjoying yourself, my boy.”

“Enjoying myself? You call this enjoying myself?” A pigeon flew onto his head and started preened its feathers. Severus’s nostrils flared dangerously. He took a deep breath in an attempt to calm himself down. “I came here in find a book about the properties of the moonstone and how it can be safely integrated with class A venomous substances but how can one find a book in this ridiculous mockery of a library? They are in constant motion. Where are the neatly arranged shelves? Where are the catalogues?.” Severus closed his mouth and took another slow deep breath but it didn’t appear to work. Severus body radiated waves of annoyance and irritation.

“Perhaps you’ll get used to it, my boy.”

“Has it occurred to you, oh esteemed wise man, that I might not want to get used to it? Where is Professor McGonagall? At least when she is here, she has the decency to cast a freezing spell on this rubbish so I can browse the library in peace and quiet, the way a proper library is supposed to be.” Albus adjusted his glasses uncomfortably. He had used a false pretense to send Minerva away to another property in Wales. Minerva was a good wife, someone with sound judgment but sometimes, she can be stubborn and unreasonable. It is not her fault. After all, she doesn’t have the experience Albus has in dealing with troubled minds. She doesn’t understand that with people like Severus, people who have a darkness growing inside them, one must use harsher methods. It is the only way. If Minerva was here, she wouldn’t let Albus do what must be done. Minerva doesn’t love Severus as much as he does. She is not prepared to do whatever it takes to save his soul.

“Severus, we need to talk.”

“Indeed.” Severus muttered as he picked a book up from the table, opened it with a snap and started reading the first page. His eyes traveled across the sentence, not paying the least bit of attention to Albus.

“You have stayed here for four days, my boy, but you still haven’t given me the counter curse.” Severus flipped the page with a decisive snap. The mild curl of his upper lip was the only indication that he was even listening.

“I have waited patiently for this long, Severus, hoping that you will come to your senses but you have disappointed me.”

“When have I not disappointed you, professor?” Severus snorted bitterly, letting the book drop with a loud thud onto the table. Motes of dust fluttered around the room, dancing in the rays of light streaming in from the windows. The windows were tall, almost twice as tall as Albus and they were always open. Bright morning sunlight lit the room giving it a cheerful atmosphere. Another thing that Severus hated. The boy was addicted to gloom and seclusion. It was an outward sign of the moral depravity within his soul. Albus always insisted on exposing Severus to more cheerful and brightly lit atmospheres hoping that it will help his soul heal.

Severus continued to ignore Albus. He picked up a second book. A large butterfly made from an ancient piece of parchment perched on the green cover. The letters on its wings were faded to a light grey and in certain parts they had vanished entirely, erased by age. Severus sneered at the small creature, before squashing it with his fist. The butterfly lost its charm, it turned back to a lifeless page ripped apart from the middle of a long forgotten book.

Albus shook his head. He had hoped that things wouldn’t come to this. He had hoped that Severus would recognize defeat and give up the counter curse but he had always been too optimistic for his own good. Severus rarely admitted his mistakes. He tried to blame things on others, not bothering to take responsibility for his actions. Another one of his bad characteristics, of course.

“I went to see him, you know. Last night, at the order meeting. I found Harry hiding under the table with the invisibility cloak draped around his shoulders.” Albus stated evenly. That caught Severus’s interest. He looked up sharply, his fingers frozen in the act of turning the page. Mmmm. Interesting. It looks like Severus is still interested in the boy. Why? Did he plan to hurt him still more? What is going on inside that depraved brain of yours, my child? For a second, Albus was tempted to cast a mild legilimency spell on him but then, he thought better of it. Powerful spells rarely worked on Severus, mild ones would be completely useless. He had attempted to throw Severus off guard last time and find out the truth but it wouldn’t work this time.

“Harry was very surprised when I went to talk to him right after the order meeting. He was still wearing the cloak and stumbling his way up the stairs. I think he hoped that he could go back to his room undetected. The look on his face was certainly amusing when I started to talk to him. The poor boy was so surprised he nearly fell down the stairs.” Albus chuckled at the memory. Ah, little children were so easy to impress! Why, Severus was just like that when he was small! A little spell was all it took to make him gape like a fish. It was different now that he had grown up. The dark part of him had grown too, leaving the innocence behind. That is ever the way of life. A person with bad blood pulsing through their veins starts out sweet and innocent, fully capable of capturing the hearts of the good people around him.

“Once he got over the shock, Harry had a lot of questions to ask me. Oddly, he was more interested in you than in the curse. He kept asking me where you were and when you would be coming back.” Albus shook his head mildly. “I am afraid the boy has gotten rather attached to you. He is an affectionate soul and he cares for people so easily. He cannot see that you will never return his love and care. Poor boy!”

“I did promise him that I would return. The fact that I was unable to do so is entirely your fault. Mr. Potter is probably under the false impression that he was abandoned. Really headmaster, I wish you would let me go to him and explain everything. That would make it easier for the child.” Albus smiled. Oh, my boy, you try so hard to make me believe that you care but you will never deceive me. After all, I practically raised you. I was blind to Tyrus’s faults but I will not make the same mistake twice.

“Ah, but Harry already knows the full truth.”

“Does he? And what exactly did you tell him? That you falsely accused me of blinding him and locked me up at the very inappropriately named Healer’s Touch.” Severus was watching Albus intently. His cold eyes assessing. A paper raven perched on his shoulder and started to preen his hair but he didn’t even notice. His entire attention was fixed on Albus.

“Not exactly. But I’m afraid that he found that little information for himself.” Severus eyebrows rose into his hairline. His eyes were wide open and what exactly was the emotion behind them? Albus thought he saw a hint of sadness inside those cold black eyes. Or was it fear? No, that did not make any sense.

“And how would he find out such information?” Severus stated. His eyebrow was raised in a perfect arch and his black eyes watched Albus keenly.

“I told him that I already caught the criminal and that he was locked up in my house. I didn’t tell him your name, of course. I didn’t want the entire order involved in this horrible mess.” Albus adjusted his glasses uncomfortably. This was a complication he hadn’t expected. “I told Harry that I would take care of everything but he never was very patient. He takes after his father, of course. James was a man of action, he…”

“Never mind that blasted fool! Tell me how the boy found out.” Severus hissed angrily, his nostrils flaring. The raven was now hopping on Severus shoulder, croaking loudly.

“I left the order and came home. A short while later I went out for a quiet refreshing stroll under the moonlight when I felt the stirring of magic somewhere beside me. I cast a quick detection spell and I was able to detect that there was someone outside the gate, watching the house intently. It was Hermione, hiding under the invisibility cloak. She was watching you with a determined frown on her face and she was very interested in the shouting match you were having with my house elves. You were angry and demanding to be let out.”

“So from what I can tell, Harry didn’t wait for me to fix things. He asked his friend to spy on my house and find out who cursed him. Well, it looks like he got his answer.”

“No, he did not! He got the wrong answer! If only I had talked to him, I could have persuaded him that I am not the culprit. I could have told him my version of the story but now…” Severus took a deep breath. His chest rose and fell in one fluid motion. “So, Mr. Potter now believes that I was the one to curse him?”

“I’m afraid so, my boy.” Severus gulped and looked away. He was making a great effort to hide his feeling but it was obvious that he was upset, very upset. Poor boy. Of course he must be worried. When Harry tells the order that Severus is the one who cursed him, they will be furious. They will insist that Severus be handed to the authorities to account for his crimes and they would be right. Albus should hand Severus over. After all, he knew perfectly well what Severus was capable of. He knew that Severus was a dark wizard that cannot be trusted but… He just couldn’t. He couldn’t let Severus waste away inside Azkaban. Severus was his boy, his second chance. Albus cannot fail him no matter who he is or what he is capable of. No, Albus must deal with this himself. He must crush the evil inside Severus.

For a moment there was silence. Severus shifted his attention back to the book in his hand and started reading but Albus could tell that his mind was elsewhere. His eyes were not following the lines. He was simply staring at the page, deep in thought. A swarm of birds were now flying above their heads, making odd shaped patterns in the air. From a nearby chair, a cat was watching them avidly. Its tail swayed gently, following the movements of the birds. The black letters on its body shone as it jumped down from the chair and inched forward slowly, hoping to catch its prey.

“Don’t you want to know how the poor child is doing?” Albus asked after a little while. Of course, Severus did not feel compassion like a normal person but maybe if Albus tried hard enough, he could force some compassion into him.

“I suspect that you will tell me anyway.” Severus stated coolly but he looked up at Albus, waiting expectantly for his answer.

“He is miserable, Severus. He is thin and there are bags under his eyes. Mrs. Weasley tells me he doesn’t eat much and his nights are plagued with nightmares. He wakes up yelling at Dudley to stop hurting him. Sometimes he’s crying, sometimes he’s cursing. Harry is definitely not alright.” It was impossible to tell what Severus was thinking. He simply nodded once and stared at him with expressionless black eyes. His face was under control again, it was a mask that betrayed nothing. Ah, my boy, that is one of your many faults. A selfish mind has no place for sympathy. Maybe Albus could collect some deeply unhappy memories from Harry and make Severus watch. Maybe, just maybe, that might spark a bit of sympathy. Well, it was worth a try.

“You see, my boy, that is the result of what you have done.” Albus stated sternly.

“I fail to see how Mr. Potter’s nightmares are my fault.” Severus shut the book in his hand with a loud snap. “I should think that you bare more responsibility than I do. After all, you were the one who placed him with those abominable relatives in the first place.”

“They were his only family, Severus, and as I explained to them in that letter…”

“What letter?” Severus interrupted, looking at him pointedly.

“The letter I placed on baby Harry’s blanket when I left him outside their doorstop.” Severus eyes widened in shock.

“You mean to tell me that you did not even bother to speak to them. You did not attempt to ascertain what kind of people they were before dumping a baby on their doorstep.”

“There was no need for all that, my boy. Minerva had watched them closely all day.”

“But Professor McGonagall was against it! I certainly remember how angry she was when you persisted in giving the boy to those people.” Albus blue eyes twinkled at Severus. My, my, was he trying to act the part of caring guardian? The role did not suit him at all.

“Why, Severus, are you accusing me of failing Harry, you who belittled the boy throughout his school year?” Severus looked away almost as if he was ashamed. Well, that was certainly odd. Severus would normally sneer at him and tell him that the boy deserved to be belittled. He really was acting the part of guardian very well today. Did Severus hope that it will make Albus believe that he wasn’t the culprit? No, my boy, I am not that easy to deceive.

“I am merely stating, headmaster, that your actions seem irresponsible. Are you not always the one preaching about love? Love is the greatest power or the greatest gift or something else of the kind. Personally, it is all rubbish I wouldn’t give a second thought to but it seems rather hypocritical that you, who say that love is everything, would send a child to be raised by relatives who hate him.”

“Ah, Severus, but sometimes one must think of the bigger picture. What is one boy’s happiness compared to that of thousands of other children? I regret that he had to suffer but it was necessary.”

“Are you telling me, headmaster, that you already knew that his relatives hated him? Is that why you left him at their doorsteps without even meeting them? Because that would not allow them the chance to refuse the boy?” Severus eyes were narrowed and he did a convincing job of looking angry on Harry’s behalf.

“I do not expect you to understand. I had my reasons to keep the boy at the Dursleys. As I said before it was necessary.” Severus glared at him. “Besides, Severus, why are you suddenly giving me moral lessons? I know perfectly well how to distinguish right from wrong. I know how to make the right choice even when the situation seems difficult. Unfortunately, I cannot say the same for you, my boy.”

“Well, if placing Mr. Potter with the Dursleys was such a perfect decision, then why did you suddenly decide to transfer him to my doorstep? Did you think he needed a change of scenery?” Albus frowned, thinking how much of his plans to reveal. Well, it certainly didn’t matter now, this particular plan had been a complete fail.

“You are not a person naturally capable of love, Severus. You prefer to dwell on the bitter memories of your past and hold onto old grudges. Even after all these years, your hatred for James has not diminished. Whenever the name is spoken you get angry. Look at you, Severus. Even now, you’re looking at me furiously as if I have committed a mortal crime simply by speaking his name. This is not alright, Severus. This is not healthy.”

“Fortunately, I have never been the model of good health and I have no intension of starting now.” Albus choose to ignore the comment.

“I sent Harry to live with you hoping that when you spend time with the boy, you will see that he is not that bad. I hoped that Harry, the miniature James Potter, will help you let go of your unreasonable hatred. Of course, I did not expect miracles. I never expected you to care for him or even learn to be civil with him. It is not in your nature to love unconditionally but I thought that, at the very least, you will get used to the child so that you won’t go into a fit of rage every time he is mentioned.”

“If all your plans are this brilliant, headmaster, I daresay the order of the phoenix is doomed before it has fought a single battle.” Severus snorted bitterly. “All I did when I was with the boy was fall into fits of rage. We had quite the yelling match from time to time.”

“Alas, that plan was one doomed to fail.”

“If I may ask, professor, why in Merlin’s name do you care if I hate James Potter? Why is my hatred so unhealthy? He is gone. He is dead and buried. He has been rotting in the grave for the last ten years. Thank goodness for small mercies.” Ah, if only things were that simple! Someday, when the time is right, you will understand.

“I am wise but sometimes, I can be a foolish old man. I hope too much. I should’ve predicted what would happen. After all, you do enjoy hurting people. It will take much more than a few weeks in the company of an eleven year old child to change that.”

“Tell me, headmaster, since you are quick to accuse me of a crime I did not commit, why did you trust me with Mr. Potter? Were you not afraid that I would reduce your precious golden boy to a pile of ashes?”

“Of course not. You didn’t really think I would leave him there without protection, did you? I cast a web of the most powerful protection spells I knew. I thought that was enough to protect him but clearly I was wrong. You found some way to evade my spells and harm the boy. It seems that I have underestimated your power.” Severus blinked and for a second he didn’t say a word. He just stared at Albus, his face twitching and his expression unreadable. His mask was about to falter, whatever emotion he concealed was about to break through. Albus frowned. Something about that information has unsettled Severus. What is it? Did he not want Albus to know that he is powerful? Did Severus hope to conceal the true extent of his power until he could use it against Albus? Again Albus had to bite back the urge to probe into his mind. It would be no use. Ah, this is rather frustrating. He wished he could find some way to get into Severus’s mind, maybe find a new spell or potion that would break through his occlumency shields and find out the truth.

“Excuse me, headmaster, I have much to do.” Severus’s voice was a quiet hiss. He didn’t wait for Albus to respond. He grabbed a few books, spun around on the spot and strode away at his usual brisk pace. His long black cloak bellowed dramatically after him. He walked through a narrow aisle flanked on both sides by tall book shelves. A pack of miniature cats were resting comfortably on the ground but when they heard the swish of his robes, they swiftly moved aside with an angry hiss.

After a moment, Albus walked calmly after him. It didn’t take him long to catch up. After all, he was taller than Severus and his strides were much longer. He was used to running after his boy. Severus was very temperamental. That is often the way with selfish people. They are caught up in their own woes and even the smallest slight, real or imagined, would be enough to upset them. People who have dedicated their lives to helping others are happier because they do not allow petty things to upset them. It is a pity that Severus can never learn that lesson.

Severus had come to a stop in front of a bookshelf. A large sign with looping gold letters was hovering near it. Magical Plants, it read. In keeping with the theme, green vines covered the bookshelf, their tendrils extending over some of the books, trapping them there. In different places, white flowers had started to bloom. Their petal opened and closed languidly, as if caressing the air around them. If you watched them long enough, you could see their color shifting. The white will become steadily darker, one shade at a time, until it become a vibrant Gryffindor red. Then, they would lighten to a cream yellow, soothing to the eye.

Severus just gave the flowers a mild sneer. There was a wide empty space on the shelves where Severus had taken the large books out and within this emptiness a flower had grown. That is how life should be. Emptiness ought to always be replaced with vibrant life. Albus gazed at the flower, fully appreciating the depth of its meaning. He didn’t have long to appreciate it though. Severus reached forwards and yanked the flower out of its place, ripping it away from the vines. It fluttered, cold and lifeless, to rest on the wooden boards.

“What is the matter, my boy?” Albus asked gently. Severus didn’t respond . He placed the books back into the emptied slots rather more roughly than was necessary. But the books had other plans. They flew back out, nearly slamming into Severus’s face in the process. Then, they started to float languidly in the air, going higher and higher, attempting to find a different place to rest. ‘Utterly ridiculous!’ Severus mumbled under his breath, glaring furiously.

“Come, Severus, tell me what has upset you. It is not good to keep feelings bottled up inside, especially not for you. Who knows what your anger might lead you to do?”

“There is nothing at all the matter, headmaster.” Severus hissed. His eyes passed over the titles on the shelf: A Herb for Every Malady, Herbs for Common Uses and Plants for Every Occasion. There was a smaller book squeezed in between the last two books. It had no title but it must’ve been promising. Severus reached out for it but his fingers closed around thin air. The book had vanished. Severus looked like he was ready to blow the entire library apart.

“Clearly something has upset you. Come on, tell me.” Albus insisted. Severus grabbed another book before it had time to fly off or disappear. He flipped through the pages so fast it was a miracle they didn’t rip apart.

“It is of no import. I am sure you have greater issues to deal with than my feelings.” He didn’t even look up.

“Oh, Severus, you’re always so dramatic! I sometimes wonder how you can hold so much anger inside you. Anger is a dangerous emotion, it has the capacity to cause great wrongs in this world. You must be careful, my boy, or it will end up consuming you completely.”

“Yes and if anger fails to destroy me, I am quite sure your useless ideas will succeed in boring me to death.” Severus eyed the book in his hands suspiciously. “This is a book on Quidditch supplies! What in seven hells is it doing in the Magical Herbs section?”

“Severus, that is enough. Tell me the truth. What is wrong?” Albus used the no nonsense tone he reserved just for Severus. Nobody else could be as stubborn as him.

“Nothing, headmaster. You placed Mr. Potter under heavy protection spells before you handed him to me. That is entirely reasonable. I have no objection to it, whatsoever.” There was a ripping sound as the page Severus was holding onto tore apart from the middle.

“Then, why are you trying to destroy my books, Severus?” Albus asked mildly. He reached out and gently extracted the book from Severus’s iron grip. Maybe he should invite his boy to take a calming cup of chamomile tea.

“I just…” Severus took another deep steadying breath. He straightened his back and lifted his chin haughtily. He folded his hands together and looked at Albus, his expression neutral. “When you sent Mr. Potter to live with me, I was furious. I had no desire to spend any more time with Potter’s spawn than strictly necessary. Still, I believed that it was a sign that you were finally beginning to trust me. After all, you did entrust your most valuable asset for the war into my care.”

“Trust?” Albus smiled. His blue eyes twinkled. “You believed that I trusted you, Severus?”

“Is that so very preposterous? After all, I bring you information every time I come home from a death eater meeting. You have stopped dozens of death eater raids on the basis of the information I risk my life to gain.”

“You help me because I am the only one who can protect you but deep down, you still want to join the dark side. You want to cause pain and suffering. It is in your nature. It is who you are. How, then, can I trust you?” Severus looked away abruptly. He turned back to the bookshelf so that Albus was left staring at the back of his head. “I am only telling the truth, my boy. You act normal now but who knows when you will return back to your old ways?”

“Alright, perhaps I am utterly untrustworthy now.” Severus stated very quietly. Albus had to strain his ear to catch his words. “And yet, I wasn’t always like this. When I was a child, I did not have these… dark moments. I was normal. Ugly and unpopular, of course, but morally, I was normal. But even then, you did not trust me.” Albus waited, sensing that there was more to come.

“God only knows how much effort I put into gaining your trust but it never seemed to work. If something, anything went wrong in the castle it was always my fault. Professor McGonagall fell down the stairs and of course I must be the one who pushed her even though I was nowhere near when the incident took place. A first year Hufflepuff was petrified and again, I was the one in detention. It did not matter that I never even knew the girl. Every single damn time, Dumbledore! Something happened, it had to be my fault.”

“Child, you have to understand…”

“You always look at me with those idiotic blue eyes of yours narrowed in suspicion. You never look at anyone else that way. That is a privilege you reserve solely for me. It is as if all my life you have been expecting me to turn into some kind of monster.” His deep voice trailed away into nothing.

“I am a hundred and fifty years old, Severus. I have lived many years in this world. I know more of its ways than you do. Experience is the basis of foresight. I could tell, even when you were thirteen, what you would one day end up becoming. The capacity for evil was always in you. And I was right, Severus. You became a death eater. You committed atrocious crimes. By a massive effort, I have managed to divert you back to the light side but it will take nothing short of a miracle to turn you into a good person. All I can hope for is to contain the evil in you, to stop it from completely taking over and destroying your soul.” Severus didn’t respond. He reached up for a book and Albus saw that his hand was trembling slightly.

Albus frowned. Severus is upset. He always gets upset when Albus tells him the truth about his dark nature. Why? Surely, he already knows what lies in his own heart? Then why is he so shaken when Albus points out the truth? Tyrus never did that. When people called him evil, he glowed with pride. Albus reached forward and placed a hand on Severus’s shoulder. He was entirely too thin, Albus could feel the bone under his fingers. He gave Severus’s shoulder a comforting squeeze anyway. When he was young, Albus would give him a comforting hug when he was upset but as Severus grew older, he came to hate hugs. He would growl or shrug him off when Albus attempted to hug him. That is what happens when evil begins to resurface. Contact with human beings becomes distasteful.

“Seeing that you have already branded me a criminal from the start, I assume that there is nothing I can do to prove my innocence in this latest crime?” Severus spoke a little more loudly this time. His voice was under control but his back was still to Albus.

“No, Severus, I’m afraid there isn’t. The time for games is over, my boy. I already know the truth.”

“Every criminal has a right to defend themselves. Are you denying me that right? Are you going to punish me without any evidence? Your intuition or, as you call it, your experience is all very well but I, as a man of science, believe in hard evidence.”

“Ah… but I did find evidence, my boy. I have indisputable evidence to suggest that you were the one to curse Harry.” Severus spun around to face Albus. His cold black eyes were narrowed and his lips were pressed into a thin line.

“Would you care to elaborate that claim, Professor Dumbledore?”

“Two days ago I went to speak with the healer that tended to Harry. I asked for a copy of the results of the diagnostic spells and I found some things that did not add up. The healer has written in his official report that Harry was affected by a dangerous dark curse. You do know how dark curses in the body are detected, don’t you?”

“Of course I do, headmaster, I am a potions master! A dark curse causes the magical core of the victim to vibrate erratically. A first degree diagnostic spell can detect these vibrations.”

“Exactly, Severus! The healer saw these vibrations and immediately concluded that the cause of the illness was a dark curse. He did not examine properly the results of the second degree diagnostic spell, the one meant to check the body tissues for magical substances.” Severus eyes widened. Yes, he understood where this was going. “I checked these results thoroughly and I have found that Harry’s body tissues contain traces of a highly illegal potion, a potion that contains extracts of untreated belladonna.”

“But belladonna is lethal!”

“Yes, it is. The potion alone would have killed Harry but the potion was combined with a dark curse to cause blindness.”

“Was the poison absorbed orally or was it airborne?”
“Traces of poison were detected in the digestive tract and not on the skin so Harry ate or drank something with poison in it.”

“This means that a random stranger in Diagon Alley could not have cursed him. The criminal must have gained access to his food.” For a moment Severus didn’t speak. He stared at a spot on the floor, deep in thought. My, my. He really is making a very convincing show of innocence. Looking at him, you’d think that this information was new to him. Good thing Albus was not so easily deceived, not anymore. He might not be able to access Severus’s innermost thoughts but he knew an act when he saw one.

“Your evidence merely indicates that Mr. Potter has been poisoned. It does not, in any way, implicate that I did the poisoning.” Severus stated, looking up at Albus defiantly.

“Ah, but that is where you are wrong, my boy. I had Professor Slughorn analyze the results and he was able to tell me which ingredients were used to make this potion.”

“Fascinating but what exactly does this have to do with me?”

“There were over a hundred highly volatile substances combined to make this potion so there is absolutely no way that an ordinary person can brew it. Only a handful of the best potion masters in existence can successfully make this potion and you are the only one among them who lives in England.” Severus blinked. He opened his mouth, then closed it with a snap. Finally, he was speechless. There was nothing left to do but to admit his guilt. There was no way that Severus can protest his innocence now. You see, my boy, I’m not unfair. I only punish those who deserve it. That was always the case, even when you were young. Your twisted mind has distorted the memories making you remember unfairness where there was none.

“Now even you can see that you are defeated, Severus. Come, give me the countercurse and the antidote. I can’t let you just walk away from this, of course. Actions must have consequences. You must learn that, but do not worry, it will not be too bad.”

“No, headmaster.” Severus stated evenly.

“What do you mean, my boy?”

“I stand by what I said before. I did not curse Mr. Potter.”

“But the evidence, Severus? How can you explain the evidence?”

“Perhaps the potion was brought from oversees.”

“That is not possible! A dark artifact cannot pass through the heavy protection spells cast on a country’s borders. You know this very well, Severus! Now, you are just desperately grasping at straws.”

“Professor Dumbledore, I do not yet have a theory on how someone cursed Harry but I am innocent. There is another explanation. I just have to find it.” Albus shook his head sadly. Sometimes, Severus can be really stubborn.

“I was afraid it would come to this. In matters concerning James you were always so stubborn, insisting you were innocent when clearly you were not. Evidently Harry and James fall under the same category with you.” Albus drew himself to his full height and fixed his penetrating gaze on Severus. His eyes were stern and commanding. “I will make you a deal, Severus. You give me the information I want to know and, in exchange, I will refrain from punishing you harshly. Perhaps just a few months volunteering at the permanent disability ward at Saint Mungo’s to make amends for your actions will be enough.”

“I generally prefer not to repeat myself but, in this case, it seems that I have no choice but to repeat the same thing over and over again. I did not curse Mr. Potter. I cannot give you an antidote or a countercurse since I do not have either.”

“For Merlin’s sake, Severus, enough is enough! I have given you every chance to make up for your mistakes but you are stubbornly refusing to cooperate. You are leaving me no choice but to hurt you. I will get this information out of you one way or another. I have attempted to reason with you but it did not work. Now, you know perfectly well what comes next. You know the methods I use.” Albus let his anger and his magic pulse out of him in waves. The bookshelves began to tremble. The paper animals were getting nervous. They scuttled away as fast as their legs could carry them. A sudden unnatural hush fell on the library.

“Perhaps a certain potion will be enough to change your mind.” Albus stated coldly. What little color Severus had in his face drained away. He took a step back so that he hit the bookshelf with a thump. A little grey book fell onto the floor and opened along the middle. A tiny bush started to grow out of the book, its grey leaves emitting an odd smell but no one even noticed.

“You… you cannot mean the Visionara potion.” Severus stuttered. He was breathing deeply, his chest rising and falling in an attempt to keep calm but the fear in his voice was evident. Poor Severus! Albus definitely did not want to use that potion but it was the one thing Severus was actually afraid of. Anything else he would bare stoically without even a single complaint. Only the Visionara was capable of utterly terrifying him.

“Yes, Severus, that is exactly what I mean and…”

“No! No! I will not drink that abominable substance again. Never again, do you hear me, old man!”

“You will have no choice, Severus.”

“And who, pray tell, will brew this potion for you? Last time, you forced me to brew it myself and then drink it but not this time. I will not brew it! You can send me to Azkaban if you want. I would rather rot in a minuscule cell under the affectionate gaze of the dementors than drink that damned potion.”

“The Visionara is not classified as a dark potion. I can perfectly well import it from France and I do not need your cooperation to make you swallow it!”

“No.” Severus hissed, his eyes glowing with fury.

“Headmaster, do not do this.”

“Well then, for a week, I will try other methods. But if, by next Monday, you still haven’t given me the means to cure Harry then I will not hesitate to use the Visionara potion. Make sure you keep that in mind, Severus.” Severus nodded. He took a deep breathe and visibly calmed himself. In a heartbeat, he was back to his normal, impassive self, his terror vanished.

“Do not think that this week will be easy for you, Severus. It will be difficult, incredibly difficult.”

“Then, I should be thankful that I am so used to torture by now.” Severus sneered pointedly.

“I will use legilimency, Severus, to get the truth out of you whether you like it or not.”

“What part of Master Occlumence do you not get headmaster? Even if I were guilty, which I decidedly am not, you would still never force the truth from my mind.”

“Are you quite sure of that, Severus?”

“Certainly. After all, every time I go to a death eater meeting, my life depends on the strength of my occlumency shields.”

“Ah, but the Dark Lord is not as powerful as I am.”
“And yet I have resisted even your powerful intrusions time and time again.”

“Remember three days ago, Severus, when I entered into your mind? Remember the headache you got? That was only after a few minutes of legilimency and I wasn’t even using half my magic. Imagine what it will feel like to endure that intrusion, not for a few minutes but for hours and hours. Imagine the extent of the pain, hour after hour, day after day. Then, when that is finally over, a week from now, what will you have waiting for you? The Visionara. The one thing in the world you fear above everything else.” Albus paused for effect, letting the information sink in. If his words affected Severus, he did not let it show. His face was a marble mask, his back was rigid, proud. Pride was the destruction of many a powerful man. Oh, my child. Why do you never learn? Why will you let all my efforts go to waste? I know this is hard but try. Try to become a better man. Fight your inner evil, Severus.

“You know perfectly well that I do not wish to do this to you but if you stay silent, you force my hand. Please, child, tell me the truth.” Come on, Severus. Make the right choice. Show me that I do not have to force you onto the right path. Tell me the truth! But he didn’t. He stayed silent. His lips pressed firmly together, his chin lifted in a show of defiance. Dear Merlin, it was like seeing a ghost. Tyrus used to look at him just like that. Who are you to tell me what to do, the look seemed to say.

“Very well, Severus. You leave me no choice.” Albus took out his wand and gave it a single decisive flick. The scene around them dissolved into blackness. One moment they were standing in the middle of the library and the next they were standing in the middle of a small circular room. Its walls were a uniform cream color and light filtered in from round windows high above their heads. The room was completely empty. No beds, no chairs, no desk, only empty space. And the most disquieting part of this room was the absence of a door. Walls rose tall all around them. There was no way in or out. The anti-apparition wards made it impossible for anyone without the owner’s express permission to apparate within the grounds. In short, Severus was well and truly trapped.

For a split second, Albus hesitated. Did he really want to do this, did he want to hurt his boy. Because yes, no matter how hard Severus will try to keep from screaming out. No matter how much he tried not to beg or plead, the pain will be intense. Maybe he could just let it go. After all, if he tried hard enough, he could find the countercurse. It will take longer but it is not impossible. Did he really want to do this? After all, Severus could’ve killed Harry with just the potion if he had wanted to but he didn’t. It was only a temporary curse. Is this really necessary? Maybe he shouldn’t do this. No, he must be strong! Remember what happened with Tyrus? Remember how you ignored your son’s dark nature and look what happened because of your blindness. Albus scolded himself firmly. No. That will not be allowed to happen to Severus. He must not falter. He must do what must be done, no matter what.

“Legilimens!” Albus yelled, throwing the full force of his magic behind the spell. Waves and waves of blinding white magic shot out of his body and forced its way into Severus’s mind. His cold back eyes widened in shock and pain. His face lost all color and he stumbled backwards onto the wall but he kept control. Albus could feel Severus’s magic resisting him. His hands were balled into fists at his side, his fingers digging into his palm.

Albus rushed along the endless pathways of the mind, quickly dragging out random memories one by one. He could hear ripping sounds as the memories were torn away from the fabric of Severus’s mind. Swiftly, the images flashed by, one after the other, a confusion of memories.

Severus, six years old, sitting on his mother’s lap and gazing sadly up at her beautiful face. She was sobbing, tears were streaming down her face. Severus, slightly older, covering in a corner while his mother yelled at him, pointing an accusing finger at his chest. Severus, with little Draco on his lap, patiently teaching him how to write. His black eyes shone with affection and his lips twitched as he watched his little godson, his pink tongue sticking out of his lips as he concentrated on his letters. His fat fist was clenched tightly around an elegant peacock quill. Severus, trapped in a box, terrified and screaming, a half decomposed body lying next to him.

Time passed. The memories succeeded one another, faster and faster. Time lost all meaning. There were only the memories and the silent battle within Severus’s mind. Silent, except for the occasional groans and moaning escaping from Severus’ mouth. The room lost all consistency. The figure of Severus leaning onto the wall, his forehead scrunched up in pain was only a vague outline in Albus’s mind. Only the memories existed.

A dull thump brought Albus back to himself. His spell stopped abruptly. He blinked for a few minutes, regaining his bearing. How much time has passed? He couldn’t be sure. A few hours or maybe more. That is a risk with legilimency. One can get lost in the labyrinths of the mind and lose all sense of time and space. It’s a very dangerous spell, one not to be used lightly. He blinked a few times and looked around the room, at the bare circular walls and the windows set high.

It was then that he noticed Severus. He had fallen to the floor, completely unconscious. He lay on his stomach, his arms outstretched above his head. Albus gulped and rushed over to him worriedly. Had he gone too far? No, that is not possible. He would never seriously harm his boy. Albus was only trying to help him, to force him onto the right path.
Albus knelt on the floor beside Severus and quickly cast a basic diagnostic spell. He was fine. No permanent damage. He was going to recover in a few hours. He was only knocked out by the pain. It was going to be fine. Albus gently rolled Severus onto his back. His body felt so cold, like touching a corpse. Even his face was more skeletal than usual. He must not have eaten much while he was here. Albus sighed. He wished he didn’t have to do this but it was necessary. It was for the boy’s own good. Gently, Albus reached out and brushed a strand of hair from his pale face. It is going to be alright. This cannot go on for much longer. Severus will confess and this pain will stop. Until then, he had to remain firm and strong, the perfect disciplinarian.

Albus stood up and with a flick of his wand, conjured a bed. A simple one with white sheets and thin pillows. Slowly, he levitated Severus off the ground. For a second he lay there, his head lolling to the side, his arms and legs hanging down gracelessly. Severus would’ve hated this. He would’ve hated being so utterly without defenses in front of Albus. The boy still persisted in considering him an enemy no matter how much Albus did for him every day. It is no matter. One cannot expect gratitude from a Slytherin.

Severus’s body sank down onto the bed. His lank shoulder length hair spread out over the pillow. Albus covered him with a blanket. He was tempted to conjure a pain potion too and leave it beside the bed but then, he thought better of it. This was a lesson. Severus had to remember the pain. He should remember it when he thinks about committing another evil act. No, he will not get away from the pain so easily. Maybe he could have a book or a potion journal, something to pass the time? No. It is better if he stays here and reflects on what he has done. Oh, my boy, I did not want to do all this. Why did you have to have evil growing inside you? Why couldn’t you be more like James, naturally good and caring? It is not fair. There was a faint pop and Albus vanished from the spot.

--------- SS ---------

He felt no pain. He felt no sadness, no angry. He was a vessel without emotion, a weapon honed to perfection. Severus told himself firmly as he took a slow deep breath. One. Two. Three. His body was trembling, his mind felt strange as if the intruder was still there, ripping apart memories, stabbing into his brain. He felt the residue of the headmaster’s magic pulsing inside him, digging deeper and deeper.

Merlin, it hurt. It hurt so much. This was worse than the Dark Lord’s intrusions. At least he was less powerful than the headmaster so his invasions were less painful. This, this was hell. Severus moaned and tried to turn around but every little movement sent jolts of pain to his brain. He wanted to cry, he wanted to punch the walls around him, he wanted to yell at the injustice of it all. Instead he bit his lip and buried his nails into the soft fabric of the bed. He was not weak. He had endured worse pain than this. He would not cry out. Another deep breath. Long and slow. The pain was nothing to him. He was strong. He could endure much worse than this. His grip on the bedsheets tightened.

For a moment, he looked down, confused. What the hell? This bed hadn’t been here before. Where did it come from? Had he been moved while he was unconscious. Carefully, making sure to move his head as little as possible, Severus glanced around the room. The same cream walls enclosed him. The same high windows poured sunlight into the room, burning his eyes. No, he was not moved. The room was the same. The headmaster must have conjured the bed and the blanket for him. Typical Dumbledore, hurting him one moment and taking care of him the next.

Severus ground his teeth together and glared. He was a death eater and a Slytherin, not a sentimental fool. Love was something he could not feel. He had a cold heart, a heart of stone. Even the headmaster knew that. Then why did it hurt so much? Why did this meagre bed and this thin blanket, not even long enough to cover his entire body hurt more than the stabbing pain in his head? Why is it that he kept remembering the way the headmaster looked at him in the library, his blue eyes twinkling with disappointment? He knew that expression well, too well to ever forget it. The soft sigh, the mild shake of the head, his eyes staring pointedly at Severus telling him that he was the worst person in the world. And the worst part was, the headmaster was right. He was a horrible person.

Severus glare deepened. No. He would not think like that, not this time. This was not his fault, none of this was his fault. He was not the one who cursed Harry. Dumbledore was wrong, he was a bigoted fool who is punishing him unjustly. Severus did not deserve this. He knew that. And yet… How many other crimes of his had gone unpunished? He might not have cursed Harry but how many other people had he cursed? How can he say he does not deserve this punishment? The truth is, he deserved much more than this. He deserved a cell in Azkaban or worse, a dementor’s kiss. My God, even now, the things he wanted to do, the things he pictured himself doing. They were so…evil. He was evil. All things considered, the headmaster was being more than generous. But that didn’t stop him from hating this entire situation.

Severus tried to sit up but the pain nearly knocked him unconscious again. Merlin, he wished he had some firewhiskey right about now. Or maybe some elf vine. It was much stronger and worked much faster into your system, obliterating your thoughts, those gloomy unwanted thoughts that you don’t want to have but that never leave you alone anyway. But there was no firewhiskey. There was no wine. There was no convenient sleeping potion to gulp down. He was alone with his thoughts and he had no choice but to listen to them. And by now they were getting tedious, they always said the same damn thing again and again.

They kept telling him that he was evil. A dark creature that must be contained lest he harm anyone else. He, unlike the headmaster, did not know how to choose right from wrong. It was not in his nature to care or to love. He was dark, he was evil. And yet… And yet… Can there not be some good in him hidden somewhere deep? After all, he was no dark lord. He might not be capable of love but maybe he can care for other people, just a little bit. He thought he did care for the headmaster no matter how much his suspicion and his constant disappointment hurt. He did care for his favorite professor, Professor Sprout. A small smile curved his lips as he thought of her. She was such a ruddy Hufflepuff, always willing to believe him no matter what evidence there was against him. Typical badger, no logic to their reasoning whatsoever. And there were others too, other professors that he didn’t mind spending time with: Flitwick, McGonagall, Hagrid.

And what about the little lion? What about Harry? He cared for the boy, at least he thought he did. Severus was a dark man, he wasn’t really sure what caring for someone meant. But he did feel the desire to protect the boy, he felt the yearning to comfort the boy when he was ill. And he had been hurt to realize that Harry was miserable. He wanted to make things better. Was that what it felt like to care for someone? Maybe he wasn’t capable of love but it was a start. Didn’t that mean something? Didn’t that mean that somewhere deep down there could be a small part of him that was good?

Severus scrunched his forehead and, for a moment, he was lost in thought. He wished he could go to the headmaster and speak his mind but considering the situation that wasn’t a good idea. Besides, whenever Severus talked of things like this with the headmaster, he always laughed at him. What do you know of love or sympathy, my boy? You are not capable of these feeling but do not worry, I love you all the same. I have enough love for the both of us. Yes, that is exactly what Dumbledore would say. And the truth was, he was right. Of course, he was right.

Severus chuckled bitterly at the empty room. The deep voice echoed around the walls, breaking the silence. What the hell was he thinking? Him, the bat of the dungeons, having a good side? The very idea is laughable. He was an evil twisted bastard. The headmaster knew that. In fact, he had always known that even before Severus himself did. No, Severus had no good in him. He was just deluding himself. He was a dark man filled with bitterness and obsessed with revenge. There was no good in him, not even a little bit. All he could do was aid the light side win the war hoping that it will somehow make up for his bad nature.

And the boy, he had to protect the boy. Harry was his responsibility. Severus had to take care of him. At least, he could do this one thing right. Because now, Severus knew the truth. Dumbledore’s information had been useful after all. In fact, it has been vital. There is only one person other than himself who could’ve been in possession of such a potion and Severus knew exactly who it was. He didn’t say anything to the headmaster because he hoped it wouldn’t come to that. This was his friend, he had been Severus’s friend for a long time. Cursing Harry was a horrible mistake but Severus couldn’t just hand his friend to the headmaster. No, he must get out of here and talk to him. Severus must make the stubborn man see reason. But how? How can he get out of here? He was too weak to roll onto his side, let alone walk? The headmaster has confiscated his wand after he was confined here. The anti-apparition wards prevented him from going anywhere without the express permission of the owners of the house. What could he do? He was trapped and there was no way out.

Severus groaned. What a delightful vacation this was turning out to be! He hated being so helpless. And the poor child? He was hurt and utterly miserable from what the headmaster has told him. If only Severus had been allowed to talk to him, to make him understand. Now, the boy hated him, of course. Harry thought he was the one who blinded him. He must be sitting at the burrow complaining to his friends about what a horrible person his guardian was. Severus sighed quietly. It had been nice while it lasted. It had been so nice to look at the boy and see the trust in his eyes, his big green eyes that were always wide open, forever curious. Yes, the boy had mistrusted him for quite a while but after their conversation in his lab, Harry had trusted him completely. When he was blind, he had leaned into Severus, innocent, trusting. There was no suspicion, no dislike, only an odd sort of affection. Was it affection? No, that was not right. Severus had no likable qualities. He was a useful tool for the war, nothing more. Still, the boy had wanted him by his side. It was… quite nice.

But now, it was over. The fragile trust they had established had been shattered. The little boy hated and mistrusted him again. That is just what Severus needed, another person who thinks he is a complete monster. Isn’t it enough that the headmaster and Severus himself already thought that? It was not fair. It was so not fair. Why did Severus have to be evil? Why was there a darkness growing inside him?

Pop. Someone apparated into the room. Oh God, has the headmaster returned? Is the mind probing about to recommence? He hasn’t even been conscious for that long yet. What, did the headmaster wait outside the nonexistent door for Severus to regain consciousness only to pounce onto his mind again? Severus closed his eyes and pretended to sleep. Maybe then, the headmaster will leave him alone to his gloomy and depressing thoughts for a few more minutes, at least.

“Severus?” A woman’s high pitched voice called.

“Professor Sprout?” Severus exclaimed, completely taken aback. He tried to sit up but his body didn’t want to listen to him right now. His muscles felt like they belonged to someone else, only the pain was definitely his. “What ever are you doing here?”

“I’ve come to take you home, sweetie.” She walked closer so that Severus could see her face. She was smiling sadly. Her red cheeks were smeared with dirt. Fluffs of grey hairs stuck out of her tattered witch’s hat. It was her, it was definitely his professor. Relief flooded over him like a rush of fresh water. It was going to be alright now. He just knew it. Professor Sprout always fixed everything.

“How exactly did you come by the information that I was here? And how did you get in?” Severus’s voice was hoarse. It felt strange to his own ears, strained and tired.

“I got Minerva’s permission to apparate in and out of Healer’s touch.” Professor Sprout sat down gingerly on the edge of the bed. She patted Severus’s hand affectionately. Severus couldn’t help it, despite the pain, he was smiling. It was so good to see her again. “Harry came to me this afternoon and told me all about your being trapped inside Professor Dumbledore’s home. The dear child was very worried about you.”

“What?” Severus couldn’t believe his ears. Is it possible that after everything Harry still trusted him? Did Harry believe that Severus was not the one to curse him? How is that possible? How can Harry believe him, the evil ex-death eater instead of the perfect leader of the light. It made absolutely no sense.

“Come, Severus.” Professor Sprout beamed down at Severus as she took his hand in hers. “Harry is waiting for you.”

--------- AD ---------

The place was deserted. Even the few researchers who worked on the project had gone home long ago. Still, the touches burned on either side of the corridor. Their tall red flames reflected off the polished black floor. Albus walked steadily on, his wooden boots clanking loudly on the tiles. The corridor was so narrow that the stone walls nearly grazed Albus’s broad shoulders. The ceiling rose high above his head, too high to be seen. It felt as if he was squeezing his way through a tiny crack in a huge mountain. Albus frowned. He never liked this place. It was too dark, too narrow and there was no air left to breathe. Still, this place had its uses. It was the most secure and well-guarded location in England. Yes, despite all its faults, this was the best place to hide his secret, a secret he is not yet ready to share with the world.

A few minutes later, Albus stood before the door. It was a monstrous door of iron that towered meters above Albus’s head. It had no handle. Only the sculpture of a large lion’s head protruded out of the center. It watched Albus with glowing red eyes that burned with anger. Its mouth was wide open revealing fangs as sharp as daggers. The large golden mane, made of real hairs, swayed back and forth in the breeze. Around the head, written in gold cursive letters were the words: Ad Maius Bonum.

Albus frowned wondering, not for the first time, why Master Lywell choose to use such a gruesome animal as a symbol for this project. Yes, the lion was the symbol of Gryffindor house, it was the symbol of honor and justice but while the lions that adorned the Gryffindor common room held their head high, their attitude proud and tall, this one was different. It looked fierce and dangerous. It looked ready to pounce at the first intruder and rip its flesh apart with its cruel fangs. Albus shook his head. He’ll have to have a word with the master. He must get it modified to a more pleasant image, maybe a field of daisies or a flying Hippogriff.

Albus lifted his fist and pounded on the door using the code they had previously agreed to. Tap. Tap. Two short sharp knocks followed by a brief pause. Thud. Thud. Thud. Thud. Four louder knocks followed by a longer pause. Albus took a deep breath and counted to three, his fist suspended mid-air. Then, he pounded on the door one last time and waited impatiently. He longed to be inside that room, to see with his own eyes that everything was going alright. He wanted to hear the master say that things were improving, that soon the wait will be over and the spell will finally be complete. Albus was hundred and fifty years old, time had lost all meaning to him but after ten years, even he was tired of waiting. The lion’s cruel red eyes watched him suspiciously. They seemed to blink in the shimmering light of the torches.

Finally, when Albus was on the point of knocking a second time, the door opened slowly outwards, one inch at a time. The massive iron door, two meters thick, shuddered and groaned as it moved. Thin white vapors poured out of the room. They escaped in slow waves, bringing with them a bone chilling cold. On instinct Albus started to mutter a warming charm but then, realizing what he was doing, he stopped abruptly. He mustn’t use any magic. It might interfere with Master Lywell’s web of complex spells.

The door opened halfway leaving a small opening, just wide enough for Albus to slip through. Inside, nothing could be seen but a blindingly bright white mist. Albus tightened his fur cloak around himself and drew the hood up over his head, squashing his pointed hat. He buried his hands securely inside his pockets, took a deep breath and quickly rushed through the door, into the swirling white mist.

At first, he saw nothing. The white mist was in front of his eyes, clouding his vision. It was so cold. Albus has never felt this cold. Even with three layers of winter clothing and a thick cloak of brown fur, he was still shivering. It must be more than thirty degrees below freezing. His skin was beginning to burn already. He ignored the painful sting of the cold and moved further into the room. The mist opened like folds of water to let him through but it pressed on every side of him, preventing him from seeing anything.

“Master Lywell?” Albus called out loudly. There was no answer, only the whoosh of the moving vapor. Far away, he could hear the cracking sound make by large blocks of ice as they expanded and condensed. Albus had no choice but to move further into the room, hoping that he wouldn’t bump into some sharp instrument. Seeing nothing but white he walked further and further into the room. Fortunately, he has been here so many times before that his legs automatically carried him to where he needed to go. As he moved along, the mist thinned, giving him his vision back bit by bit. He saw the vague outlines of iron tables along the walls. They were filled with silver instruments that were constantly in motion. Spinning in circles, floating in midair, swinging back and forth, measuring bits and pieces of things he couldn’t see and couldn’t understand anyway.

“Master Lywell?” Albus called but again there was no answer. He was getting worried. The master had owled him a few minutes ago, requesting an urgent meeting. He said that he had good news. Well then, where was he? What was this good news? Albus kept walking, hoping that he will find the master eventually.

Albus came into a different section of the room. It was covered with rows and rows of simple iron tables. They were evenly spaced but they were standing so close to each other, that Albus had to squeeze between them with great difficulty. And on each and every one of these tables lay a single object. Unlike the silver instruments, these were still and quiet. They were bodies. Hundreds of naked bodies sat on hundreds of tables all around the massive room. Their muscles were frozen solid and their skin was an unhealthy grey. Their lips were blue and coated with a layer of thin ice. On each bare chest there was a simple card with a name written on it in bold black letters.

Albus cast a fleeting glance at each of the names, searching for the only one he was here to find. His eyes flicked over strange names, ones he had only heard in passing. Andrew Kalasar, Sarah Myrour, Anita Chizelwit. And then, there were the more familiar ones: Marlene McKinnon, Benjy Fenwick, Edgar Bones, Gideon and Fabian Prewett, all members of the previous order of the phoenix, all victims of the death eaters. Albus shook his sadly as he swept past them. How much had this senseless war cost us? How many lives have been ruined because of a single twisted mad wizard?

Suddenly, he came to a halt in front of a table, slightly bigger and more ornamental than the rest. There he was, laying so peaceful. If it wasn’t for the grey skin and the thin tendrils of vapor rising out of his frozen body, Albus might’ve thought he was sleeping. His expression was so peaceful, so serene. It always was, even in life. He had always been happy, his lips quick to smile, his words quick to reassure. Oh yes, James Potter was such a good boy, such a great fighter.

Albus smiled fondly down at him. His eyes were closed but still, the thin round glasses perched on his nose. The hair, even now, was a complete mess, sticking out in all directions. Ice crystals had formed everywhere. On the rim of the wiry glasses, on the strands of hair that fell over his forehead, on the long lashes that were resting on his cheek. It was astonishing how much Harry looked like his father. He was an exact mini replica of James in everything but those bright green eyes. If…

“You have received my owl.” Albus turned around to see a short man walk up to him. He didn’t even reach as far as Albus’s hips. The man had a bald shining head and a grim face that never smiled. His neck was always twitching to the side in a nervous tick.

“Ah, yes! I was delighted to hear from you after so long, Master Lywell.” Albus smiled warmly but the man’s expression didn’t change. His neck twitched to the side as he watched Albus blankly, not saying a word. He was never very chatty.

“You said you had some good news for me.”

“Yes, I do.” Twitch.

“Fantastic! It has been a heavy day. I could use some good news.” No response. The man watched him blankly as if he couldn’t understand what Albus was saying. Really, sometimes Albus wondered how this man could be the most brilliant spell crafter alive. He certainly didn’t look the part.

“Well, then, let’s hear it!”

“The crafting of the spell is complete.” Albus blinked. The information took a while to properly sink in. What? That’s it? It was done? Ten years of waiting were finally over? Albus should be happy, he should be thrilled but he was still in complete shock. He hadn’t expected this, not so soon.

“So you did it? You created the spell?”

“Yes.” Master Lywell stated drily. There was no emotion behind the word, no sense of satisfaction for a job well done, only a blank statement of fact.

“When can the spell be cast?”

“In a month’s time, it will be ready. The second stage which involves the potion is more complicated. It requires an expert potion master to brew.” His neck twitched again as Master Lywell reached into his pocket and took out a small piece of parchment. “I have a list of the potion masters with enough skill to brew such a complex potion. I assume you will be contacting one of them.” Albus nodded as he bent down to take the parchment from the Master’s fingers. Then without another word, Master Lywell turned around and disappeared through a side door. He didn’t even bother to greet Albus. Yes, that certainly was one odd little man.
Albus turned back to look at James. Slowly, a sense of elation was spreading through him. He couldn’t help it. He opened his mouth and laughed aloud into the empty room, empty except for the hundreds of bodies, their eyes closed, unseeing. This is it. He did it. The spell was finally created. The only thing that has to be done now is to brew a potion and then, the wait will be over. A few months, that is all it will take. A few months and the project will finally be over. All the sleepless nights, all the worry and the failed experiments, everything will end.

Oh, Severus, today you told me that there was no point in trying to reconcile you to James Potter’s memory. You thought that it didn’t matter if you hated a dead man but you were wrong, my boy. Oh, how wrong you were! James is not dead, only frozen, only sleeping peacefully until the time is right. One day, very soon, he will rise up, alive and happy as ever, ready to fight all the evil in the world. The time is approaching. The warrior is about to return.

-------- HP --------

It’s an odd feeling, being blind. Everything is black, almost as if the world around you has been suddenly erased. It makes you feel as if reality has slipped away, as if you don’t exist in the world anymore. It was just Harry and his memories. Vernon, always yelling, Peturnia always looking at Harry with a disgusted sneer on her face as if Harry was a little insect that didn’t deserve to live. Dudley and his fat fist. And then, there was the flash of green light, Harry’s earliest memory. If Harry listened carefully enough, he can sometimes hear a woman’s desperate screaming. It was driving him crazy, this constant invasion of the past. In the last four days, Harry has learned a method to keep the memories away. He had to ground himself in the here and now. He had to remind himself that he was not lost in an empty blackness but that the world was still there all around him even if he couldn’t see it. His sight was lost but there were other senses. He touched everything around him, he listened to the muffled voices and the creaking floorboards, he smelled the bacon sizzling in the frying pan. Yes, this was the method Harry used when he was at the Weasleys but Snape’s manor was different.

There were no smells, no sounds. Just a universal emptiness. It was so easy for Harry to forget the present and slip back into the past when he was here. At first he had waited patiently inside his room, counting numbers. One. Two. Three. Four… Fifteen… Thirty. Focus on the numbers, not on the Dursleys or the green light. Not on his mother’s screaming. Just count and wait, Snape will be here soon and everything will be better. Right now, there was nothing but the numbers. Forty, forty-one, forty-two. Harry didn’t remember the moment when the numbers gave way to a memory… He was five and his hand had burned. He had been trying to cook breakfast but somehow, he had gotten his fingers in the fire. It hurt, it hurt so much. Harry was crying. He wanted a hug, someone to come and tell him that everything will be alright. It hurt so much. His hand even looked funny, all red and swollen. Maybe Auntie will help him this time. Maybe she’ll give him a hug like she gave Dudley after he gets hurt. Maybe, just maybe, this time will be different, this time she will be nicer. But when she finally arrived, Harry’s hopes were dashed. She didn’t hug him. Instead, she yelled. “You silly clumsy boy! What are we going to do with you? Now, we’re going to have to interrupt our family picnic and take you to the doctor. I swear, I don’t even know why we keep you. You’re a complete nuisance, that’s all you are!”


Harry sat up suddenly. No, not again! He’s not five years old anymore. He is nearly twelve and he’s no longer at the Dursleys. He was being silly remembering all those stupid stuff. He didn’t care about the Dursleys. What did they know? Harry was a wizard with magical powers, better than all of them. He didn’t give a damn about what happened in the past. Harry stood up and started to pace the room. Where was Snape? Professor Sprout said that she would fix everything. She said that she’ll rescue Snape. Well then, where are they? Harry has been here for hours. At least, he thought it was hours. How could he know for sure? It’s not like he could use a watch. God, why was this place so silent? There’s no crackling of fire, no whosh of the wind, no tick tock of a clock. There was absolutely nothing. It was getting on Harry’s nerves. He needed to hear something, now. Maybe he could go outside and sit in the garden. But that’s no good, even in the garden, everything was silent. Where can he find some life inside this dead house?

Harry walked with his hands in front of him until he felt the wall under his fingertips. Then slowly, one step at a time, he groped his way out of the room, one hand always on the wall. He had to do something, anything was better than staying still in this absolute silence. Harry didn’t know for how long he walked. He didn’t even know where he was. He had taken one turn after another. He had come down several flights of stairs. It was getting colder and there was an odd smell of mold around the place. Maybe he was in the dungeons. Maybe he was somewhere near Snape’s lab. The rough concrete of the wall gave way to a much smoother material. Polished wood, perhaps? It was a door. A different door to the hundreds he had passed along the way. Harry felt letters under his fingertips. Slowly, Harry pushed it open and slipped inside.

Immediately the sound of running water greeted him. It sounded like a waterfall, a small waterfall that trickled over smooth stones and dripped onto a pool. Then, he noticed the rustle of hundreds of leaves all around him. The wind whistled and ruffled his hair. His robes snapped around his ankles. He was outside! He had found a door that led to a sort of back garden. That was the only explanation. Where else would there be leaves and wind? But something was off. It felt… different. The air was still damp and if he inhaled deeply, he could still smell the faint odor of mold, as if he was still in a place that hadn’t seen sunshine for years. And besides, Harry was underground. He had to be. He had gone down about five flights of stairs. Then what was this place? Some sort of room charmed to feel like the outside.

Harry walked cautiously into the room. He could feel tall blades of grass swaying around his legs. It felt nice, soothing. Harry sighed contentedly, happy to finally find some sounds, some sense of life and movement. He took off his shoes. He felt the soft grass beneath the soles of his feet. Fresh morning dew seeped into his skin. There were trees around him. He could hear them swaying. He could smell the flowers, roses and jasmine. It felt so real, so lifelike and yet the air still felt damp and secluded. He couldn’t feel the sunshine. There was a scuttle of tiny feet in the grass. Harry jumped and looked around worriedly but, of course, he didn’t see anything. What was that? Were there some kind of dangerous animals around here? He won’t put it past Snape to hide poisonous magical creatures inside his house. But oddly enough, the atmosphere of this place was peaceful, something that he had never felt in this house before.

“Well, well, Mr. Potter, I see that you have discovered the reptile room,” said a very familiar voice coming from behind him. Harry spun around on instinct. He didn’t see anything but he didn’t need to. It was Snape! He had come back. He was finally here. Thank God he was here, safe and sound. He had come back for Harry. Finally the waiting was over. Harry smiled broadly and, without thinking, he ran towards the voice and threw his arms around Snape’s waist. Merlin, it was so good to have him back. Harry had been so scared that he would never see Snape again but no, he is here, he’s back. His guardian was back!

It took a few seconds for Harry to realize exactly what he was doing. He was hugging Snape! That was probably a very bad idea. Snape stood frozen on the spot. He didn’t move. He stood with his arms dangling from his sides and his muscles tense and rigid. Snape made no move to hug him back. This was getting a little awkward. Harry felt his cheeks burning. Why the hell did he always have to embarrass himself. Hugging Snape, the dungeon bat, what the hell was he thinking? Harry slowly made to take a step back but just then, he felt Snape move. Snape placed one arm hesitantly over his shoulder. After another second, his other hand came up to pat Harry on the head awkwardly.

“Well, Mr. Potter, I see that you aren’t entirely displeased to see me again.” Harry smiled and hugged his professor tight. Man, it was great to have him back.

-------- HP --------

Harry could feel the little fish moving inside the pool. He was sitting on a small rock with his feet dangling in the water. The fish swum, their bodies bumping against his legs from time to time. He could feel their cold scales brushing against his skin. Harry wondered what they looked like. Were they ordinary gold fish or were they some bizarre magical type? This seemed like such a fascinating place. Harry wished he could see it.

Snape and he were having a sort of indoor picnic. One look at Harry and Snape had declared that he needed to eat. He was about to march Harry out the door and into the dining room but Harry hadn’t wanted to leave. He liked this place. There was life here, sounds that grounded him to reality. He could hear the movement all around him and so they had come to this arrangement. A picnic on the grass. Harry smiled as he bit into his sandwich. Well, technically they weren’t on the grass. Harry was sitting on a rock while Snape was sitting on a bench right next to him. He had positively refused to sit on the grass. ‘What do you think I am, a cat?’ He had responded brusquely when Harry insisted that there were supposed to be no chairs in a picnic. It had been oddly comforting, hearing his professor’s sneering words again.

Harry took another big bite out of his sandwich. He didn’t realize until now how hungry he had been. His appetite has returned. Harry found himself smiling broadly. He was happy here, with his guardian only a few paces away from him. It’s a pity that he had to leave in a little while. Harry bright mood dampened slightly at the thought. Snape had explained to him that Dumbledore must not know that he had escaped. He must still continue to think that Snape is locked up at Healer’s Touch. If Dumbledore knew the truth he would lock Snape up again and this time, he would make sure that there was no more escaping. Instead, Snape will continue to live at Healer’s Touch, only coming out when the headmaster is away on business. Professor Sprout will apparate him in and out. Thankfully, Dumbledore is a busy man. This means that Snape will have time to spend with Harry and to seek out the real criminal. It was a good plan but still, Harry couldn’t help wishing that Snape was living with him again.

Harry swayed his legs back and forth. The water rippled gently. Nearby, a pair of frogs were croaking in unison, singing their version of a bizarrely bad song. Harry should be grateful. At least, he had managed to convince Snape not to send him back to the Borrow. He had begged Snape to let him stay here with Professor Sprout. At least that way, he would have a greater chance of meeting his guardian when Dumbledore wasn’t around. Really, it was so odd, this business with Dumbledore. Harry wanted to ask Snape all about it but the man was oddly silent about the subject. They had talked about many things over the last hour but he had never once mentioned what had happened with Dumbledore. And Harry was reluctant to raise the subject. They were so calm and tranquil right now. He didn’t want to start fighting again. But his curiosity was getting the better of him. He needed to know.

“What happened, Professor Snape?” Harry asked, turning to face Snape. It was so frustrating to not see anything! Harry wished he could see Snape’s expression and read his reactions. Yes, the man had a mask of stone but Harry had learned to distinguish the subtle signs of his emotions. Now, without his sight, even that was gone.

“A rather ambiguous question, Mr. Potter. A vast number of things have happened to me in my lifetime.” Snape responded evenly. Snap. He tore off a flower and twirled it in his fingers. Harry could sense his discomfort but he pressed on.

“You know what I mean, Professor. Why did Dumbledore lock you up in his house?” The wind was picking up. Harry could feel the breeze on his skin. It felt so real. It was hard to imagine that it was only a charm.

“The headmaster believed that I cursed you. He uncovered some evidence to suggest that I was the culprit.” Snape stated brusquely.

“What evidence was that?” Harry asked taking another bite out of his sandwich. There was a heartbeat of silence. The small waterfall continued to trickle down into the pool. Around them, birds were chirping cheerfully. Harry was afraid that Snape would just refuse to answer. He could be incredibly hard to get something out of him when he didn’t want to talk. Harry heard a tired sigh and he frowned. Something was off with Snape today. His words were slow and heavy as if he had just woken up from a deep sleep. He sounded… tired.

“Harry, I have to ask you something.” Snape was choosing his words carefully. He was calling him Harry again. That can’t be a good sign. “Do you, in any way, believe that I am responsible for this curse that has had such a devastating effect on you? I would appreciate your honest answer. Do you believe I am innocent or are your feelings more conflicted?” Harry thought about that. Was he conflicted? He didn’t think so. When Hermione told him that Snape was the one trapped at Healer’s Touch, Harry had been furious. He didn’t, for one moment, believe it really was Snape. How could it be him? The man has done everything to protect him. Besides, the concern and panic in his voice when Snape had picked him up and rushed him to Saint Mungo’s was definitely real. No, it wasn’t Snape.

“I completely believe you are innocent, sir.” Harry answered firmly. There was no doubt whatsoever in his voice.

“Thank you, Mr. Potter.” Snape whispered. Was that relief Harry heard in his voice? Had he really been afraid that Harry would think him guilty? Why? Maybe Snape really did care what Harry thought of him. Harry smiled and shifted on the rock so that he was sitting closer to his guardian. He leaned his head on the man’s leg and rested. A second later, Snape’s arm came up and circled his shoulder lightly. With a tired voice, he told Harry all about the diagnostic spells and the potion that was used to curse him.

“… so that is why the headmaster has come to the conclusion that I have poisoned you.” Harry didn’t know what to think. The evidence against Snape was quite damning. In fact, it seemed irrefutable. Nobody but Snape could have made that potion. Harry stiffened and made to sit up but Snape’s hand around his shoulder tightened protectively.

“But there is one factor that the headmaster has failed to take into account. There is one more person who has access to such a potion and he must be the one who cursed you.” Snape rushed on hurriedly. He was worried. Harry could hear the fear in his voice.

“And who’s that?”

“A death eater. Someone I know.” Harry got the distinct feeling that Snape was hiding something. Maybe he was trying to protect this death eater. After all, they were his friends. Harry frowned but he did not say anything. He didn’t really like this side of Snape, the side that tried to protect his friends no matter what they did. Harry was blind and weak. Snape should be protecting him, not the death eater who cursed him.

“Rest assured, Mr. Potter, I will deal with the matter. This afternoon, I will be leaving for a death eater gathering and I will speak to this suspect. I will convince him to give me the countercurse and the antidote.”

“And how are you going to do that, Professor? He is a death eater. He will not willing admit his guilt and give you the antidote. It doesn’t work that way.” Harry couldn’t quite keep the anger and bitterness out of his voice. No, that won’t do. He must remain calm. Harry didn’t want to fight, not today, not after he had waited so long to finally meet the man again but Harry was getting angry. Was it so unreasonable to expect his guardian to be more interested in protecting him than the man who cursed him?

“I will threaten to hand him over to the headmaster. That should put him in a reasonable mood.” Harry straightened up and looked up at Snape’s face. All he saw was black. Damn, that was annoying!

“Or we could just tell Dumbledore everything. This curse is illegal, isn’t it? Dumbledore could have him arrested.” Snape didn’t respond immediately. The wind rose around them. His robes flapped noisily on the bench. Come on, Snape, just say yes. It’s the most reasonable thing to do. Even you should see that.

“That is not the best idea, Mr. Potter.” Snape replied evenly.

“Why not?” Harry barked. He can’t believe it. Even now, Snape was trying to cover for his death eater pals. That was so not okay!

“It is highly unlikely that the headmaster will believe my words. If I tell him about this death eater, he will merely assume that I am trying to cover up my own guilt. If I want to accuse anyone, I will require concrete evidence.”

“But, surely, if you tell Dumbledore what you know, he will investigate for himself and find out the truth.” Harry persisted.

“No, he will not. The headmaster will merely assume that I am lying and dismiss my words.” Harry’s eyebrows rose in disbelief. Why would Dumbledore do that? That made no sense whatsoever. Dumbledore trusted Snape, wouldn’t he accept even the slightest possibility that the man he trusted was innocent?

“He wouldn’t do that! You are his trusted spy, he wouldn’t accuse you unless he absolutely has to!”

“And how, pray tell, would you know that, Mr. Potter? Do remind me, how long have you known the headmaster? Where does this great stock of knowledge come from?” Snape was getting angry too. His words were getting dangerously quiet.

“I know that Dumbledore’s wise. He won’t just condemn an innocent man without giving him a chance to defend himself.”

“You know nothing, Mr. Potter. You have no idea what the headmaster is truly like. You have a set of childish views, idealistic in every way. Your wise Dumbledore was quick to accuse me without the smallest shard of proof.”

“But you just said he found out about the diagnostic spells and the…”

“Yes, he did. But he found that evidence days after he trapped me at Healer’s Touch. The moment I told him that you had lost your sight, he turned against me. No matter what I said, the headmaster wouldn’t listen. He was completely convinced that I was the one who cursed you and why was that? Merely because in his eyes I am always guilty.” Bitterness and anger seeped out of his words.

“Do what you wish, Mr. Potter. After all, that is what you always do. Tell the headmaster whatever you want.” He snapped angrily.

“Sir, don’t get angry, I just…” Harry sighed. This is not how it’s supposed to go. Harry hasn’t seen his guardian in four days. They should be happy and light hearted, not angry and arguing. Why did Snape always have to do this? Why did he have to be so bloody unreasonable? He was ruining everything!

But then, maybe Snape was right. What did Harry really know about Dumbledore? That he abandoned Harry in a home where he was hated and mistrusted? That he imprisoned Snape in his house? None of these things made the headmaster look good. But… this was Dumbledore! He was the leader of the light, the wisest wizard on the planet. Can he truly be so blind? It was just so hard to understand.

“I’m sorry, sir.” Harry whispered as he kicked the water with his legs. Here we go again. Snape getting angry and then starting a yelling match before storming off somewhere. Harry was getting a little tired of it. Why couldn’t they get along smoothly for a change? Harry heard Snape let out a quiet sigh.

“It is hardly your fault.” A wet nose pressed up against Harry’s palm. It was the niffler. Harry lifted a hand and absentmindedly started stroking its soft fur. Well, at least Snape was calming down instead of storming off. That’s at least one step in the right direction. “I… apologize as well. My anger is not directed towards you, child. After all, you did save me and I thank you for that. No, it is the headmaster that I am truly angry with.” Harry nodded and stayed silent. There is so much he didn’t understand. In fact, nothing about what had happened made any sense but Harry will have to let it go. Obviously, Snape’s not willing to talk about it and if Harry wanted to keep this day peaceful, he will just have to learn to keep his curiosity to himself. Harry felt a soft tongue start to lick his fingers. The niffler was making an odd noise, sort of like a cat purring contently.

“Rather unfortunately, this room does nothing to abate my anger towards the headmaster.” Snape observed evenly. He had explained to Harry what this place used to be. Years ago, it was called the reptile room, home to dozens of different kinds of snakes. He had charmed this room to seem like a garden in order to make them more comfortable. Now, they were all gone. Dumbledore had gotten rid of them all. It made sense that this room would make him even angrier towards the Headmaster. Harry couldn’t really understand why Dumbledore would make Snape get rid of all his snakes. It didn’t make much sense. Why would anyone want to get rid of someone else’s pets. Yeah, snakes pets were weird but then again, so were owls and frogs. There was no such thing as normal in the wizarding world. It seemed like such a pointless thing to do. Was Dumbledore afraid that Snape would attack someone with the snakes? He really was a suspicious man, wasn’t he? Harry had never noticed that it in him before.

“I get that.” Harry nodded understandingly. He dipped his hand in the water and made little splashing sounds in the pool. “I like this room. It’s more peaceful than any other in this house. I mean, it’s so alive. But I guess you don’t like it much, do you, professor? It reminds you of how Dumbledore got rid of your pets.”

“It is not merely that he got rid of them, Mr. Potter.” Harry heard Snape sigh tiredly. His voice was hoarse. He gulped down a cup of water before continuing. “I had known those snakes for a long time. They had come to become more friends than pets.” Harry nodded again, thinking of Hedwig and how close the two of them were. Hedwig could sense Harry’s moods and she had been there to comfort him when he was feeling low.

“When I set them free, some of them still managed to return. They had gotten used to my charmed room and they had developed a stubborn reluctance to leave. The headmaster caught them when they returned and threw them into the fireplace.”

“What!” Harry exclaimed indignantly. The niffler nuzzling against him jumped up in fright. “He burned them?”

“Yes. That is precisely what he did.” Snape whispered. Harry could hear the buried anger in his words.

“That must’ve been terrible. I can’t even imagine how I’d feel if someone hurt my Hedwig.”

“I still remember their names; Cyra, Torak, Mortimer and Sora. They were all rare snakes from different countries. They had scales of the brightest hues. Cyra was the most beautiful. She was a three foot long snake, her scales a lime green and coated with a golden dust. He made me watch them burn. Cyra screamed the longest. And I merely stood there, watching as her golden scales turned as black as night. I watched as her body fried slowly before turning into ashes.” Snape’s words dripped venom. He took a deep unsteady breathe before gulping down another cup of water.

“God, that’s awful! No wonder you don’t want to talk about Dumbledore. He treated you terribly.”

“At times.” Snape stated briefly. The niffler climbed onto Harry’s lap. It wriggled around, getting comfortable.

“Weren’t you angry when he did that to your pets, sir?”

“I most certainly was. I was so angry, in fact, that I set fire to his stables.”

“What?”

“The headmaster used to have a large stable and there were a considerable number of horses kept within it. He was quite proud of these animals. One in particular he had since he was a young boy. It was a white mare with a golden mane. We used to go horseback riding all around his estates. I always choose an entirely black horse who answered to the name of Night. I was quiet fond of her and yet that didn’t stop me from sneaking into the stables late at night. I poured gasoline all over the straw and set it on fire. The whole place was ablaze within minutes. When the Headmaster came out there was nothing left for him but ashes.”

“So you killed all the horses?” Harry exclaimed, horrified. That was a terrible thing to do. Really, what the hell was the matter with the two of them. Burning each other’s pets? Didn’t they have any other way to sort their differences?

“It was my original intention. My pets for his. It sounded fair enough but when I got to the stables and saw Night watching me expectantly, waiting for me to lead him outside, I could not do it. I hid the horses in a nearby forest and transferred them to a distant location a few days later. Of course, the headmaster was not aware of this little fact. He believed that his horses had been roasted to death in the fire. He was utterly distraught and I had my revenge.”

“Well, at least you didn’t kill them. You were better than Dumbledore.” Harry pointed out. He had imagined that his fights with Snape were fierce but compared to the fights between Snape and Dumbledore, they were child’s play. What was wrong with the two of them? Why did they hurt each other like that. “The two of you sure have a very twisted relationship.”

“We most certainly do.” Snape snorted. A flock of birds were standing on a nearby rock. They chirped cheerfully, hoping up and down.

“It’s odd. At first I thought that I liked Dumbledore but the more I learn about him, the more I dislike him. He really is an idiot, isn’t he?”

“Perhaps.” Snape stated evenly.

“I mean, he burned your pets and he locked you up in his house. I always assumed that he was wise, a bit like Gandalf, the all-knowing leader of the resistance against the Dark Lord. But apparently, he’s nothing but a real jerk.”

“He has his good qualities and his bad qualities like the rest of humanity. Your assessment of him seems to be too hasty.” Snape countered quickly. His voice had lost some its anger and now he sounded almost guilty, guilty for revealing the bad side of his mentor’s nature to one of his students.

“Why do you do that, sir?” Harry couldn’t stop himself from asking. He knew he shouldn’t press. Dumbledore was a sensitive topic with Snape. He must tread carefully but his words always had a habit of tumbling out of his mouth without permission.

“Do what?”

“Why do you defend him? Obviously, you’re very mad at what he did to you but you still don’t want to hate him. In fact, you still have that tone of voice you use when you talk about Dumbledore. It’s as if you’re fond of the man despite all the bad things he did to you. Why is that?”

“It’s...”

“Complicated?” Harry completed Snape sentence with an exasperated smile.

“Precisely.” Snape was amused. His lips must be twitching now as he watched Harry. Oh, why did his sight have to be taken away? If only Harry could see him again, read his mildly shifting expressions like he used to do. “My… fondness for the headmaster originated from my childhood. The relationship between us truly is complicated.”

“Well, we’ve still got some time before you have to leave. Maybe you could tell me all about it.” Harry pointed out hopefully. He was very interested in Snape’s story. The man was so intensely private. Harry hardly knew anything about him. It’ll be nice to learn something about his childhood. Maybe it’ll even help them get to know each other better. Besides, it was only fair. Snape knew all about his crappy past.

“I am afraid that my childhood was rather dreary and unpleasant. In fact, it shares a few significant elements with yours.”

“Really, how is that?” Harry tried to imagine Snape as a little boy but he failed completely. In his mind, the man was always the imposing professor with the bellowing black robes. It was impossible to think of him in any other way. Maybe Snape wouldn’t mind letting him see some of his childhood photos. “Were you an orphan too?”

“No. But I do know what it’s like to grow up with someone who despises everything about you. I have a significant amount of expertise in being a constant disappointment.”

“Why would your parents be disappointed in you? You were an impressive student! You started Hogwarts at the age of nine, a full two years younger than the rest of the students but still, you managed to be the first in your class for all seven years. Seriously, your grades were all O’s. You sound even worse than Hermione!” The niffler hopped down from his lap and started to run around on the grass, probably hoping to dig up a few shining objects. There was a sudden flap of wings. The niffler had scared off a group of pigeons that were perched on a rock nearby. Were the pigeons real? Or were they simply illusions? If Harry touched them, will they vanish with a puff of smoke?

“And how exactly do you know all this, Mr. Potter?”

“Hermione is very interested in this boring book called ‘Hogwarts: A History.’ Nobody but her has ever read it. It’s thousands of pages long! It has a section dedicated to the hundred most impressive students in the history of Hogwarts. You were one of them. Hermione told us all about you, your grades, the potions you invented, the spells you created.”

“I was aware of that entry. I have read the book a few times myself and let me assure you, it is far from boring. It simply requires a sharp mind to understand.”

“Are you calling me dumb, professor?” Harry asked indignantly.

“I fail to understand why that surprises you. Have I not expressed that sentiment many times before?” Snape tone was teasing. Harry frowned at him in mock anger.

“And here I thought you were starting to be nice!”

“A word of advice, Mr. Potter, never mix the concepts of nice and Slytherin together. It is positively blasphemous.” Harry smiled and leaned his head back on Snape’s leg. It was so peaceful here. The chirping of birds, the rushing sound of water, the gently blowing breeze. Harry could stay in this room forever.

“How could your parents ever be disappointed in a son like you, professor? Was it because of the dark mark?”

“No. But that is merely because they never knew. I am sure that even if my father had known, he would not have cared. In fact, it would have made him happy. It would have given him additional reason to hope that I would soon come to an early grave.”

“I know the feeling.” Harry felt a hand rest on his head. It didn’t move. It just rested there lightly. “My Uncle was told that I nearly died last year. You know what he said to me the first day I went back home, ‘Why the hell didn’t that damn snake eat you alive. It would’ve saved us all the trouble of keeping a freak like you in the house.’ That was what he called me. Freak. And he had this expression on his face, as if I was a rotten piece of cabbage.” The hand moved softly, carding through his hair. Snape’s fingers were cold as always but Harry couldn’t remember a time when he felt more at peace.

“Yes, it most certainly is tiring, hearing the hate in the voice of the one person who is supposed to take care for you. My father choose a similar nickname for me. ‘Half breed’ was the one name he used in the rare occasions when he directly addressed me.”

“Why did he call you that, professor?”

“Because of my blood status. As you know, my mother is a muggle. My father, as a pureblood supremacist, despised me for the muggle blood that runs in my veins. I was a taint to the Snape family honor.” Harry eyebrows rose to his hairlines. That, he definitely hadn’t expected. He always imaged that Snape had been anti-muggle but he had never imagined this, that Snape had been prejudiced against for having a muggle mother.

“But if he didn’t want a half blood son, then why marry a muggle.”

“It was… convenient. He had high political aspirations but his reputation for pureblood prejudice stood in his way. He married my mother in an attempt to show the minister of magic that he had turned a new leaf. His plan worked. The minister promoted him to the highest post available. He was next in line for minister of magic when he died tragically. He saw me and my mother as the prize he had to pay in order to further his political carrier. He had no love for us.” Poor Professor Snape. What kind of way was that to grow up? Hated by his father for something he couldn’t help. Harry knew what that felt like. He knew exactly what it felt like. In this moment, Harry felt closer to his guardian than he had ever felt before. Out of all people, Snape understood Harry. He knew what rejection felt like. Snape’s fingers continued to stroke his hair, brushing the strands away from his forehead. Harry sighed and closed his eyes, enjoying the moment.

“What about your mother, sir? You told me once that she and you were close.”

“We were. In fact, once, we were inseparable. We were united by our common hatred towards our father. Our bedrooms were next to each other’s while my father’s was in a different wing of the house. At night, when we both couldn’t sleep, we used to send coded message through the wall. Two taps meant, ‘I had a bad dream.’ One tap meant, ‘Come, I need you.’ “

“And every morning, at the break of dawn, we would steal into the attic and we would read books for hours. My father did not allow any muggle items in the house but mom had managed to sneak in her favorite novels. She read them to me over and over again until I could recite some of them from memory. I used to love sitting cross-legged on the attic floor, listening to her voice.” That sounded so perfect. An image materialized inside Harry’s mind. An image of him and Snape sitting on the orange armchair by the fireplace. An open book was in front of them and Snape’s deep baritone voice was reading to him. Harry smiled softly. Could that ever happen? If he asked, would Snape read a part of his favorite novel to him?

“She has a beautiful voice.” Snape continued. Harry could hear the smile as he spoke. His voice had taken on a far off quality, as if no longer remembered that Harry was sitting next to him, listening raptly to his every word. “Mom is a singer. She told me stories of the times she had toured the countries with a musical group called the Celtic Woman. Their songs were breathtakingly amazing. She plays the violin, the flute and the piano. And most of all, she sings like an angel. When I listened to her songs, I was content. My cruel father with his harsh words and quick fists did not matter, my antisocial nature did not matter. She truly is an extraordinary woman.” Snape’s voice drifted off. They sat there, the two of them in a companionable silence. Leaves crunched as quick feet scuttled over dried leaves. Harry heard a nibbling sound. Perhaps it was a squirrel? There were little splashing sounds as fish jumped in and out of the pool.

“That sounds so magical, professor. You really did love her, didn’t you? I wish I had that, growing up, a mother to take care of me. I would’ve given anything to have my mother back, if only for one day. I wish I had known her. I wish I knew what her voice sounded like. Could she sing? Did she have a favorite song? Did she have a favorite book? I hate not knowing.” Harry hit the water with his feet, hard. Cold water splashed onto them. It soaked into his shirt and into Snape’s black robes. Harry held his breathe, waiting for Snape to call him a silly fool but he didn’t even notice. His fingers just continued to softly stroke his hair, their rhythm unchanging. Harry wondered what happened to his mother. Snape referred to her in the present tense but Harry knew that she was no longer with him. Why was that? What had happened to her?

“Perhaps we could remedy that.” Snape broke into Harry’s thoughts.

“What?” Harry asked, disorientated.

“Your mother. Perhaps there is a way for you to know more about her. After all, she must have had friends at school. We could contact them and ask for information regarding your mother. Perhaps they might even be willing to lend you some memories.” Harry blinked. He didn’t know what to say. “Of course, it will certainly be nothing like knowing her personally but it might be a pleasant experience all the same.”

“That sounds fantastic, sir. I didn’t even think of that. Finding something out about my mother, maybe even seeing her alive. That…” Harry’s voice broke. He had to swallow before he could go on. “That will be amazing.”

“I shall arrange it, then.” Harry only nodded. He couldn’t trust himself to speak. Finally, he could get to know his parents, the people who gave their lives for his. He couldn’t believe Snape was actually willing to do this for him. Of course, Snape only mentioned gathering memories about his mother. That in itself was amazing but Harry hoped to get memories about his father too. He didn’t want to mention James Potter now, not when everything is so perfect but maybe, in time, he can convince Snape to let him learn something about his father too. Then, maybe he will learn what it truly means to be a Potter, he will understand what his father expected of him. Sometimes he thought that his father was up there, watching him. Harry really did not want to disappoint him.

“It is rather ironic.” Snape started speaking again. “You wish you had known your mother while, at times, I wish the exact opposite. I wish I had never known her.”

“What?” Harry exclaimed, completely taken aback. “Why would you wish that? Your mother sounds fantastic. You guys had the perfect relationship!”

“You are right. When I was a young child, we did have the perfect relationship but then, as I grew older, it changed. My mother was cruelly ill used by my father. At first, this only made her affection for me stronger, I was her only comfort, the only one who stood by her side. But then, as I grew up, I looked more and more like my father. I turned from a blessing to a curse. I was a constant reminder of the man who had tormented her for years, the man who had ruined her life. It seems that I truly am my mother’s son. I once disliked you for the very same reason.” Snape finished bitterly. Harry felt sorry for the man. He, at least, had the security that his mother loved him until her death. What must it be like, to watch the mother you love slowly come to hate you? It had hurt when Aunt Petunia rejected him but Snape’s situation must’ve been a whole lot harder to bare. No wonder he was bitter all the time, he had led a tough life.

“What happened then, sir? Did the two of you ever patch things up?”

“No. On the contrary, as time wore on, we drifted apart. She got into the habit of falling into unexpected rages. She lashed out at me suddenly and it left me confused and angry. That is when I began to take refuge with the Headmaster.”

“Wait, I thought you were still a kid when this happened?”

“I was. I was a student at Hogwarts.”

“So you knew Dumbledore well even before you became a professor. How come? Normally, we students don’t really talk to the headmaster much, not unless we’re in trouble.”

“That is one question I do not know the answer to, not entirely. I was always close to the headmaster ever since my second year when he found me in the forbidden forest, talking to a snake. He has always shown a keen interest in me, more than he did in the other students. I never understood why. Perhaps it is because I was the youngest in the year or perhaps it is because of my impressive grades. For whatever reason, the headmaster invited me to stay at his home for vacations and, as my mother’s behavior got increasingly confusing, I assented. Healer’s Touch was different from Snape Manor. It was a safe haven from the tense atmosphere at home.

The headmaster and I did have the occasional unpleasant and heated argument but overall, we managed to live harmoniously. We talked quite a lot. The headmaster is very fond of talking and he often invited me to have a cup of tea with him. We would share stories from our respective lives. That is how I came to know more about the headmaster than anyone else. He paid attention to me when no one else would. That is why I feel a certain… loyalty towards him.” Harry frowned. He did understand Snape’s feelings. Him growing to love the person who took care of him in his time of need. That was a lot like him and Snape. But still… there was something odd about it. Why would Dumbledore randomly invite Snape to his house? He had never asked Harry, and he was the Boy-Who-Lived, the child Dumbledore was supposed to protect. Dumbledore’s interest in Snape was strange and so was the way he vouched for Snape despite not trusting him. It felt to Harry as if a piece of the puzzle was missing.

“And what about your mother, sir? Did you just never go back home?”

“Of course I did. I only spent some vacation time with the headmaster, the majority of the time, I was home with my mother. Her moods were unpredictable and savage and yet, she still remained my mother. She was the woman who had defended me from my father for years. Even when I was with the headmaster she was frequently in my thoughts.“

“But then, where is she now? What happened to your parents?”

“My father died when I was thirteen. Snape Manor had been burned down by fiendfyre and he was consumed by the flames. Thankfully, my mother had managed to escape. She bought a small cottage by the seaside and the two of us lived together. She seemed to revert back to her usual pleasant self. I thought she was happy. I thought father’s influence had been lifted from her.” Snape was speaking faster. His voice was thick with sadness and regret. “I really did imagine that finally, we could be a normal happy family.”

“On the first day of the Christmas vacations, I rushed home. I had managed to find a rare special edition of Wuthering Heights, her favorite novel. My initial plan had been to give it to her for Christmas but I simply could not wait. I yearned to see her glowing face when she saw the book. Upon arriving home, I called out to her but she did not answer. I looked all around the house but she was nowhere to be found. Finally, I found it, that blasted note. It was on the kitchen table.

Dear Severus, it read, I cannot do this anymore. I cannot watch you slowly turn into the cruel man your father was. I am leaving forever. Never try to find me.” Harry was completely shocked. How could his mother do that to him? How could she just leave her thirteen year old son all alone, a son who loved her? How can anyone be that heartless?

“That is it. Nothing more.” Snape continued speaking. He was agitated. “I am her only son, we went through hell together, how could she just leave? How could she imagine that I would ever become like my father? I am not that cruel. I am not that evil. I cannot be. I am not my father.” Snape was trembling with anger. He stood up abruptly, letting Harry’s head fall off his leg. Harry heard him pacing the room. The leaves crunched under his feet as he moved back and forth, back and forth. Harry felt him take in deep unsteady breaths as he tried to control his emotions. Harry stood up without a second thought and walked up to him. He gave his guardian a hug. This time, Snape’s hands immediately came up to hug him back. He held Harry tight to him.

“I am not my father.” He whispered so quietly, Harry almost didn’t hear him.

“Of course you’re not, sir!” Harry reassured him. The buttons on his robes pressed onto Harry’s cheeks as he held his guardian tight. “You’re nothing like him. You’d make a great father. You’re the best guardian I’ve ever had and that includes the Weasleys. You’ve given me a home, professor, and you’ve take such good care of me, the son of a man you hate. Would your father have done that?” Harry really meant it. Snape was the best thing that has happened to him and he really really did not want him to be upset. How dare his mother leave him like that? If Harry ever met her, he would give her a piece of his mind. “Your mother was wrong, professor. You would’ve made a great son if only she had given you a chance.” It took a while for Snape’s breathing to even out. Then, he slowly disentangled himself from the embrace.

“I…” Snape cleared his throat, clearly embarrassed. “I do apologize for this outburst.” He was back to his formal self again. In a way, Harry was relieved. He didn’t like seeing his professor so upset. Poor Snape. Being hated by his father, rejected by his mother and distrusted by his mentor can’t have been easy.

“This is all that blasted Headmaster’s fault.” Snape sneered angrily. “He used legilimency on me, bringing distant memories to the forefront of my mind, memories best forgotten. There was a reason they were buried. God forbid, if I continue to sound so sentimental, I might get an invitation to enter Hufflepuff house!”

“You never know, you might look great all in yellow.” Harry grinned. “You could even dye your hair blond. Show a bit badger pride.”

“The horror! How can you even say such things? I shall have nightmares for years to come, thank you very much, you incorrigible little Gryffindor twit!” Harry smiled softly. Now, they were back on familiar ground. Snape was back in control of his emotions. The past was safely buried, at least for now. They both sat down on the bench and finished the rest of their picnic, talking of lighter matters. They talked about Harry’s fondness for Quidditch and Snape’s love for reading. They discussed the upcoming year and the potions they were going to brew. Harry was so glad to have him back. He was quickly getting used to this man and his constant teasing. But all too soon for Harry’s liking the time had come for Snape to leave.

“Well, I should get going. I cannot be sure when I shall return since that will depend on the Headmaster’s schedule.” Snape stated evenly. Harry sighed and looked towards him.
“I guess you’re right but it’s been so nice seeing you again. Maybe we could try another bonding exercise when you come back. How about a game of Quidditch?” Harry could very well imagine Snape’s sneer at the thought of flying but Harry couldn’t think of something better for them to do, at least not now.

“Perhaps we might consider travelling instead. Of course, that shall be after you regain your sight.”

“Cool!” Harry jumped up excitedly. He had never travelled before. When the Dursleys went on vacation, he was always left behind. Maybe this could be the perfect opportunity to catch up. “Where can we go to?”

“I do have this place in mind. Among the memories the headmaster has dug out, there was a pleasant one, a trip with my friends to the wizarding section of Alton Towers and…”

“Alton Towers, the amusement park, has a wizarding section!” That, Harry really hadn’t expected. Dudley had once been to Alton Towers and he had described everything in great detail, making sure to let Harry know exactly what he had missed but a wizarding Alton Towers? That sounded so much better.

“I take it that you are interested then?”

“Definitely! What’s in it?”

“I shall tell you that another time, now I most certainly must be off.” He stood up. Harry heard the swish of his robes as he spun around, ready to leave. Harry hated this, watching him go, it reminded him too much of the last time they had said goodbye. Snape had been imprisoned and unable to reach him again. What if that happened again? What if Harry won’t see him again?

“Professor?”

“Yes, Mr. Potter.” He was already on the way. His voice came from a few meters to his right.

“You will come back, won’t you?” Harry asked fearfully.

“Of course, I will, Mr. Potter. Where else would I go?”

“But what if Dumbledore knows about your escape? What if he has sealed the room against Professor Sprout? Then you can never get out!”

“He does not know, Mr. Potter. How can he? Did you tell anyone that I am out?”

“Of course not! I didn’t even tell Ron and Hermione.”

“Good, then he cannot know. I do not need to remind you, Mr. Potter, that it must remain that way. You cannot tell anyone that I have come out.”

“I definitely won’t, sir. I don’t want to get you in trouble. I want to see you again as soon as possible.”

“The same goes for me, child. I will return the moment the Headmaster leaves. Now, good day, Mr. Potter.” Before Harry could say anything else, he heard the creak of the door opening. Then it clicked shut as the professor strode away, He was gone. He really was gone. Harry sighed and flopped back onto the bench. He really hoped everything will be alright. Snape was rescued once, it won’t be so easy next time.

He shouldn’t worry. He really shouldn’t. Snape knows how to take care of himself. But not against Dumbledore. That man is the most powerful wizard alive, no one stood a chance against him. What if he knows? What if there are detection spells that can… No. No. He is worried about nothing. Snape had lived with Dumbledore for years, the headmaster wouldn’t harm him. He was like a father to Snape. Harry was being silly. Dumbledore is not a threat to Snape. If he traps his guardian again, Harry will simply demand to be brought back to him. Dumbledore was not an unreasonable man, he would surely listen.

Harry took a deep breath and attempted to calm his conflicting thoughts. There was no use worrying. He focused his attention on this enchanted world around him instead. The stream gurgling past, the leaves rustling, the scent of the roses in the air. It was peaceful, it was tranquil. Harry let his worrying slide away as let himself immerse deeper and deeper into the sounds of this lively world. The niffler was coming around again. Harry could hear him sniffing nearby. Snape was going to be fine. Harry exhaled slowly and let himself relax. It was nice being in this room, alone except for the animals moving all around him. There was so much joy in this place. Despite the fact that it was an illusion, everything felt so real.

A duck was quaking. Harry could hear the waddle of webbed feet on the stones. Her little ducklings soon picked up the cry. Harry could imagine them, the ducklings moving in single file behind their mother. What color were they? Brown and green? Were they normal or could they be magical in some way? Harry pictured to himself an orange duck with skin that glowed in the dark. It was farfetched but it was possible. Anything was possible with magic. Even a…

“What the bloody hell do you think you’re doing, Harry?” Harry jumped up so fast, he nearly toppled over into the pool.

-------- HP --------

Ron? Ron was here? How the hell was that possible? How did he get here? Did he hear about Snape’s past? That thought made Harry very uncomfortable. That was a private conversation, something that Snape had chosen to share with him. Ron had no right to listen in! And then, it hit him. The sudden sense of panic. Ron could’ve heard everything about Snape’s plan to deceive Dumbledore. If he went to the headmaster, Snape was in big trouble. Harry gulped and tried to remain calm. He could talk to Ron. He could reason with him.

“You helped Snape escape! What’s the matter with you?” Ron yelled.

“Ron, it… it’s not what you think.” Harry turned this way and that, trying to determine where his friend’s voice was coming from. He must make this right. He can’t let Ron ruin everything. He can’t let Ron go to Dumbledore.

“Really, then what is this, Harry? What is that greasy git of the dungeons doing here? Dumbledore trapped him in his house. How did he get out?” Ron was yelling. His voice echoed around the room. There was a quick plop plop as frightened frogs disappeared under the surface of the water.

“Ron, calm down. Let’s look at this in a rational way.” Hermione’s voice broke in. She was here too! Merlin, have they been following him? Why would they do that? Did they think he was up to something illegal?

“You too, Hermione, why are you guys spying on me?”

“We were not spying on you, Harry! We were worried when you suddenly disappeared without saying goodbye. Mrs. Weasley told us that you had gone to stay with Professor Sprout but that didn’t make any sense. Why would you leave the Burrow and go live with her? You barely know her.” Hermione stated, trying to be placating.

“Mione thought you must’ve snuck back in here. You were acting weird ever since you got to the Burrow and you acted even weirder when you heard that the dungeon bat was trapped at Dumbledore’s place. Mione thought that was because you were missing Snape. I thought that was pure crap! Why would you miss the git who made your life miserable back at Hogwarts? Why would any decent person miss someone like him? But then, Hermione is usually right so we flooed here and there you were, exchanging life stories with Snape!”

“Harry, I saw how upset you were when I told you what I had seen at Healer’s Touch. I thought that you’d do something like this, something that will get you in trouble. We wanted to stop you but obviously we were too late. You helped free Professor Snape, didn’t you?” Harry gulped. There was no point lying. They knew everything. What was he going to do now? How can he make them understand that Snape is innocent? Can’t they see that the man cared for him? That he’s always ready to protect Harry no matter what happens?

“Look guy, its not what you think. Snape’s innocent. He didn’t curse me…”

“That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard!” Ron’s face must be glowing with anger by now. Even the tips of his ears would turn red. That was never a good sign. It was impossible to reason with him when he got like this. “Snape is many things but innocent is not one of them! He cursed you, Harry. Why the hell can’t you accept that? Why are you trying to deny the truth? It’s so bloody obvious! Even Dumbledore, who vouched for Snape in his trials, knows the truth.”

“But he’s wrong! It was another death eater who cursed me. Snape said that…”

“Snape said?” Ron interrupted angrily. “Why would you believe him? Of course, he’s lying. He wants to get out of trouble. He’s feeding you all sorts of lies and you just gobble them up. That sob story about his mother? It’s ridiculous. He’s just trying to manipulate you into liking him and obviously its worked. I can’t believe you’d be this thick, Harry!”

“Oh, Ronald, stop it. Harry has grown to care for his guardian. It’s perfectly natural.” Hermione snapped angrily.

“Natural? What’s natural about caring for the most unpleasant man in the planet!” The wind whistled around them. It was getting louder and louder. The birds continued to chirp cheerfully overhead, unaware of the angry argument that was going on beneath them. Harry flopped back onto the bench. Think. Think. There must be a way out of this, a way to convince them not to go to Dumbledore. Harry remembered everything Snape said about his mentor, the burned snakes, the constant mistrust and the bitterness seeping out of his voice. Snape had been miserable at Healer’s Touch. He shouldn’t be trapped in there again, forced to face an angry Dumbledore for something he didn’t do. Oh God, why did his friends have to follow him? They were supposed to support him, not follow him around as if he was a criminal.

“Guys, you must listen to me. Snape didn’t do anything. He’s trying to help.” Ron groaned in exasperation. He had started to pace the room rapidly. Harry could hear his heavy footfalls crushing the pebbles on the pathway. “You can’t tell Dumbledore that he’s out. Not yet, not until Snape finds the antidote and cures me. Please, guys, you must promise me not to say anything to Dumbledore.”

“How the hell can you even ask us that? Of course, we’re going to tell Dumbledore! Just because you’re acting like a fool, doesn’t mean we have to do the same.”

“Oh, for bloody crying out loud, Ron, why can’t you guys trust me? I know what I’m doing. I know that Snape’s innocent. Can’t you guys just support me on this?”

“Tell me, Harry, why has Snape suddenly become so important to you? Why do you insist on saying he’s innocent when clearly he’s not?” There was a moment of absolute silence while the birds continued to sing all around them. There was the quick flap of wings as they flew contentedly from tree to tree. Why had Snape suddenly become so important to him? Why did he miss Snape so much when he was at the Borrow. The Weasleys were perfectly nice people. In fact, they were much nicer than Snape. Why did Harry want Snape? He couldn’t explain it even to himself, let alone to Ron.

“I…I don’t really know. I just… He’s my guardian. He’s my family now. Is it so wrong to want to get close to him? You don’t know what it’s like, Ron, to not have someone who cares for you, to always be alone. It’s awful. I used to look at you and your big family and I wanted that. I wanted a family. I wanted someone who didn’t call me a freak every day of my life. I wanted a guardian who didn’t look at me with disappointment in their eyes because I didn’t managed to get killed by Voldemort. Snape? He cares. He saved my life so many times and even when he’s angry with me, he’s still there whenever I need him. It’s nice, to be cared for, to have an adult to depend on. Is that so bad, guys?”

“No, Harry, your feelings are perfectly understandable.” Hermione sighed. She sounded terribly sad. “But the thing is, Harry, the person you currently look up to as a parental figure could be dangerous. No, Harry!” He had opened his mouth to argue but Hermione cut him off.

“You’re too close to him. You’re not objective. You cannot see that there is a very high probability that he did curse you. He is a good liar. How do you know that he is not lying to you? You don’t, Harry. You can only trust him and hope that you are right. You can’t know anything for sure. Dumbledore imprisoned Snape for a reason.” Harry hesitated. What if Hermione was right? What if he really was being an idiot? He was at Snape’s mercy all the time. Snape cursing him was the most likely explanation but … it wasn’t true. Harry just knew it, it wasn’t true. The way Snape had rushed him to Saint Mungo’s when he fainted in the corridor. The panic and worry as he plagued the healers, asking them again and again what was wrong with Harry, the way Snape confided in him today, telling him all about his troubled childhood. Snape cared for him. He would never curse Harry. They were wrong. They were all wrong. Ron, Hermione, even Dumbledore. They were wrong. They’ll see. Snape will find out who really cursed him and he will find the antidote. Then, they’ll also see that Snape is innocent.

“We were here the entire time, you know? We were under the invisibility cloak when Snape walked in and started to pour out his lies.” Ron stated in a slightly calmer voice but the anger was still there, Harry could hear it.

“How do you know they were lies. He could’ve been…”

“I heard everything. I heard you tell him how miserable you were at the Borrow. I listened while you begged him not to take you back there, to my home. You would rather stay here alone than live in the Borrow with us. Why is that, Harry?” Ron’s voice had gone quiet and intense. He thought that Harry didn’t want to spend time with him anymore. No wonder he was so angry!

“It’s not about you guys! You and your parents were fantastic. I just missed my guardian. That’s all.”

“So, that’s it, isn’t it? My family is not good enough for you anymore.”

“Ron, that’s not what…”

“When summer began you were so happy to spend time with us. You always said how great it would be if Dumbledore sent you to live with us. Then, we could really be brothers. Remember how we used to stay up at night and talk about all the fun we’d have if you came to live with us. We’d share a room and together, we’d prank Fred and George. We’d have endless Quidditch matches in the backyard. You told me how happy you’d be to come down and have breakfast with all of us chatting about our day. Remember all that, Harry? Back then, only a few weeks ago, we were enough for you. Now you’ve come to stay with Snape for a few weeks and suddenly, you can’t wait to see the end of us.”

“You don’t understand, Ron. I…”

“You’re damn right, I don’t understand! Did you think I didn’t notice the way you behaved the last few days? All you could talk about was Snape. Where is Snape? Why isn’t he here? He promised he’d come back for me so why isn’t he here? You went on and on about him. Merlin, I was so fed up with you and your obsession with Snape! You only wanted him. We were there for you, all of us were. Mom, Dad, Fred, Geroge, Ginny, me, Hermione and even Percy! But no, you ignored all of us! You didn’t want us anymore. Suddenly we weren’t good enough for you.”

“You know that’s not true, Ron! I was blind and weak and I was worried that Snape had abandoned me. You guys still mean a lot to me…”

“But not as much as the greasy git of the dungeons, the person who insults you and your father, the person who has a vendetta against Gryffindor House, the dangerous death eater.”

“But he’s working for the light side. Why can’t you people ever remember that. He’s a spy for the light. He’s no hero but he does what he can to help the light.” Harry was shouting too. He wanted to be heard, he needed to be heard. He can’t let Ron think that he meant nothing to Harry. That wasn’t true. Harry had to make him understand that. But Ron wasn’t listening to his words. He continued speaking as if Harry hadn’t even opened his mouth.

“Why is that, Harry? Why do you prefer him to us? Is it because we wear second hand clothes and sleep in a croaked house? Are we not rich and glamorous enough for you?”

“What? That’s ridiculous! How can you even think that? How can you think this is about money. I don’t care about that.”

“I heard you guys planning a visit to Alton Towers. It sounds lovely, doesn’t it? All the dragons and cool attractions, things that me and my family could never afford. Look at this house! It’s enormous. What? Did you get so used to walking around these stupid corridors that my small house can’t interest you anymore? Is that it? My home is too small for you now. My parents are too simple. Is that it, Harry?”

“No! God, Ron, why won’t you listen to me!”

“Because I’m sick and tired of you and your endless ramblings about Snape! Back at the Burrow, you were never satisfied with anything. We tried, we all tried so hard to make you happy but no, all you cared about was the greasy git!

You know what, Harry? I’m not telling Dumbledore anything! Go to Alton towers with Snape, have fun with the lying death eater. I don’t give a damn what you do! I don’t give a damn if he blasts you into a thousand pieces! Obviously, me and my family are no longer good enough for the high and mighty Boy-Who-Lived. Do whatever the hell you want. I’m done with you!” Ron’s robes swished in the wind as he spun around suddenly and strode towards the door. Harry could hear his heavy boots thumping on the pebbles as he angrily ran out of the room.

“Ron, wait!” But it was too late. The door slammed shut with a final bang. He was gone. Harry had lost him. He should have paid more attention to his best friend when he was at the Borrow. He should have taken the time to talk to him properly, to make him understand. But he didn’t do any of that. He had been an idiot and now, Ron was gone. No. No. This can’t be happening! This can’t be real! Why can’t he understand? Why can’t he see how much Harry wants to have a family?

Harry felt the bench dip slightly as Hermione sat down next to him. At least she was still here. That was a good sign. God, he didn’t know what he’d do if Hermione decided to walk out as well. They were his best friends, his partners. Without them, who will Harry turn to when he has to break the rules? Who will panic with him when it was time for exams or when the next Quidditch match was coming up? They had been through so much together last year. They had faced a fully grown mountain troll, murderous keys, a giant chess set and a crazy dark wizard together. Surely, that meant something. Surely all that can’t go away just because of a simple misunderstanding? Harry remembered the way Ron had sacrificed himself on that chessboard, giving Harry the opportunity to move forward and defeat Voldemort. Was that the same Ron who walked out on him now, just because Harry wanted Snape to be his guardian? How is that possible? Warm hands reached out and rested comfortingly on his own.

“Oh, Harry. Don’t look so miserable.” Hermione’s voice came from right next to him.

“How can I not, Hermione? I just lost my best friend.”

“Harry, you know how Ron is. He gets angry easily and he says things that he doesn’t mean. He was hurt by the way you ignored him and he just lashed out. That’s what Ron does!”


“So…” Harry bit his lip. He didn’t dare hope. Hope was never good. It led to disappointment. He shouldn’t hope but then, how can he accept that Ron is gone? “So you think that Ron will come back. You think we’ll be friends again.”

“Definitely, Harry! He just needs a bit of time to cool off. And I’ll help. I’ll talk to him and try to knock some sense into that stubborn mind of his. Really, the idea of you rejecting his family because they have no money is plain ridiculous! Anyone can see that!”

“Then, why didn’t Ron see it? How can he believe I would ever think like that.”

“Ron’s very insecure when it comes to money problems. You know that, Harry. He has to wear second hand robes and use crumbling books every day. It’s embarrassing for him. He thinks that people look down on him for it.”

“But that’s not true! Well, maybe gits like Malfoy and the other Slytherins do that but nobody cares what they think! None of his friends think any less of him for not having much money. I definitely don’t!”

“And I really hope that one day Ron will truly understand that, but for now, it’s a constant issue with him. When you preferred Professor Snape to his family he assumed what he already feared. He doesn’t understand that his family has nothing to do with it. You have spent time with the professor and you, who want a family so much, saw that in Professor Snape. It’s normal. Dangerous and worrying but normal.”

“So, does that mean you’re not mad at me for liking Snape?”


“Of course not, Harry! I’m worried but I understand.” Harry nodded and slumped back, leaning his head on the bench. It doesn’t sound so bad. Hermione’s right, he’s worried about nothing. Ron will come around.

The sound of running water was peaceful. A quiet trickling sound like a distant melody. Bees were buzzing around him, their little wings beating frantically as they went from flower to flower. Harry wondered what they were like? Were they real flowers or were they an illusion? What did this garden look like? Apart from the faint smell of damp and moss, the rest of the charms were very effective. Sitting here, listening to the sounds of the garden buzzing with life all around him, Harry could almost forget that he was in a solitary room deep in the dungeons. The garden felt so real, the amazing sound effects, the feel of grass under his toes and if he tried hard enough, even the faint smells of the myriads of flowers all around him. What did this garden look like? Snape normally preferred creepy atmospheres filled with ugly and distorted plants. Was this garden like that too? Harry doubted it. The sounds felt so peaceful, so unlike Snape. Damn, Harry wished he could see something. What color were the flowers? How big was this room? What did the soothing waterfall look like? Harry wished so much that he could see the water glistening brilliantly in the light. Hopefully, when Snape returns, he will have some answers for Harry. Then, this uniform blackness will end and Harry will be able to properly perceive the world around him again. Of course, that would happen only if Snape gets to investigate. If Dumbledore finds out the truth and traps him in the manor, it will take so much longer for Harry to get his sight back.

“What are you going to do now, Hermione? Are you going to tell Dumbledore everything?” Hermione didn’t respond right away. She was thinking hard. Harry pictured the way she looked when she was concentrating. Her forehead scrunched and her mouth twisted into an odd shape, her eyebrows drawn together and hair falling over her face, completely forgotten. Harry bit his lip and waited. If Hermione decided to do something then nobody could persuade her against it. All Harry could do was wait and see what she could come up with. Come on, Hermione, just let it go. Pretend you didn’t see anything. Surely that’s not so hard. Everything depends on this, my sight, Snape’s liberty, the possibility of Snape and me living together again. Harry fidgeted with his shirt button nervously.

“Alright, Harry.” He let out a sigh of relief at her words. Thank God, that’s at least one complication taken care of. Who knows how many others will come up?

“I will not tell Professor Dumbledore anything but I cannot let you stay here under Professor Snape’s roof while there is still so much doubt about his innocence.”

“Well, what do you want me to do, Hermione? Go to the Burrow again? I can’t do that. Ron doesn’t want me there anymore. I’m no danger here, Hermione.”

“You say that because you trust Snape but your judgement has been compromised. If he is guilty he could attack you again while you are so completely dependent on him.”

“But you heard what he said. Snape isn’t living here for now. He’s still staying at Healer’s Touch. I’ll be staying with Professor Sprout. I hope you’re not suspecting her of anything too! She’s a Hufflepuff. What can she do?” Harry tried to lighten the mood but it didn’t work. Hermione was rigid as a stick, especially when she had an idea. And Harry got the unpleasant feeling that she did have an idea and he won’t like it one bit.

“Harry, all these problems will be solved if we determine without a shred of doubt whether Snape is guilty or not. What we need is proof.”

“And how exactly are we going to get that?”

“Professor Snape said that he was going to a death eater gathering in Knockturn Alley, didn’t he? Well, I’ll follow him and see what he does. If he’s guilty, then he’ll probably brag to his friends that he cursed the great Harry Potter. If he’s not… well, I’ll see what other death eaters look suspicious.”

“What! You mean you’re planning to sneak into a death eater gathering and spy on Snape? That’s insane! You’ll get yourself killed!”

“I don’t like it either. The risks are considerable but it’s the only way.”

“But… but…” Harry didn’t know what to say. This was so wrong! This was crazy, this was stupid, so unlike cautious, risk-free Hermione. What had she been thinking? She can’t do this! This was not like all the times they had broken school rules last year. This was different. This was more dangerous. Who knows how many death eaters are attending that gathering? If they find her, she’s dead. It’s madness. She can’t seriously do this!

“Hermione, be reasonable! How can you even get into a death eater gathering? They probably have lots of protective spells guarding them. You won’t be able to go anywhere near their meeting place.”

“Yes, there will be protective spells but I won’t go unprepared. I’m taking this invisibility cloak with me. You see, Harry, in the last few days I tested it out and I made a very curious discovery. This cloak bypassed all the heavy protection spells surrounding different high security buildings. It will get me into that meeting.”

“But, Hermione, you don’t know that, not for sure. What if there are detection spells that will unmask you? You’ll be a sitting duck in the middle of a gang of psychopaths and murderers. That’s not okay! Don’t go Hermione!”

“I have to, Harry, your safety is at stake and its worth every risk.” She patted his arm affectionately as she stood up.

“Take care, harry.” The pebbles crunched as she too walked away.

“Wait, Hermione, don’t! You’re being silly!” Harry stood up and made to run after her but he slipped on a patch of lichen and nearly fell, face first, into the ground. By the time he righted himself all was quiet. This time, he was truly alone.

-------- SS --------

Masses of bodies pressed against him. Mothers going shopping with their screaming toddlers, teenagers running up and down the streets, knocking into everybody in sight. Diagon Alley during vacation months was a nightmare. The streets were covered with hundreds of families and young joyful couples running this way and that. It was a mess of multicolored pointed hats and swishing robes. Severus walked quickly along the crooked streets, his glare firmly in place. Most people who recognized him from sight, swiftly moved out of the way. He looked completely out of place in this cheery streets filled with colorful robes and loud laughter.

His robe pocket wriggled. Aryna was curled patiently inside it, waiting for Severus to arrive at a more secluded location. Severus had decided to take her out, giving her the opportunity to roam free. She has been confided to his home for far too long. She was starting to get cranky.

“Hello there, chap. You’re looking a little pasty. How about a nice face cream to get the perfect tan and impress all the ladies. Only 15 sickles and 22 knuts.” A grinning orange dwarf called to Severus from a nearby poster. He was waving a large jar with a hairy hand. Severus glared at the little beast and resisted the urge to snatch the preposterous poster and rip it into a million pieces. A laughing girl running backwards bumped into him and nearly knocked him over. Aryna hissed angrily from inside his pocket. She didn’t take too kindly to being jostled around. Severus took a deep breathe, brushed off his robes and continued to walk, trying his very best to avoid as many people as possible.

It is with immense relief that Severus finally got away from the crowded streets and descended the long staircase into Knockturn alley. Aryna’s head poked out of his pocket, eager to see the streets around her. The bright light and the loud voices of Diagon Alley died away. Sunlight did not reach into these underground streets. Dim lanterns swayed in the corners, partially illuminating the shop fronts. There was no color here. Only a universal black and grey. The place were quiet. Only a few shadowy figures glided through the streets, their voices low and unobtrusive. People stood in the corners of the shops, their faces hidden by the dark. Severus felt his entire body relax. This place was familiar and comforting. It suited exactly to his tastes. The headmaster did not want him coming here. He frowned and shook his head and lectured about bad influences. He did not understand.

Severus glided past Borgin & Burkes, Diabolical Tattoos and dozens of other little shops until he stood in front of a large set of double doors. A sign above the doors read “The Black Basilisk.” Severus and his Slytherin classmates used to hang out here all the time, away from the hustle and bustle of Diagon Alley, away from the suspicious glances of the other houses. This place had become a symbol of acceptance and freedom for them. They could be themselves here. There were no accusations, no judgement, just a group of friends hanging out, talking about whatever popped into their heads, doing whatever they felt like. And now, more than a decade later, they were still here.

The rusty hinges groaned fiercely as Severus pushed the doors open. He slipped inside and the doors banged shut behind him. He was in a large room dotted here and there by circular tables. Stiff wooden chairs were scattered around the room. Most of them were empty but a few customers were sitting down in lone corners. A large beefy man sitting by the window was muttering to himself as he bit into a huge leg of mutton. An overflowing jug of firewhiskey was frothing beside him. With a hissed ‘see you later’, Aryna slipped out of his pocket and slithered away, disappearing into the shadows. Severus watched her tail disappear swiftly under a backdoor.

“Hey, Severus, long time no see. Where’ve you been hiding?” Someone whispered from his left. Severus turned around to face the speaker. At first, he didn’t recognize him. The man was sitting down with a black cowl entirely covering his face. He was leaning back on his chair with his feet propped up on the desk. A long brown pipe stuck out of blackened lips. Curls of red smoke rose out of the pipe and spiraled above his head.

“Well, well. Theodore Nott.” Severus’s lips curled upwards in a light smile. This was a surprise. He hasn’t seen the man in years. Not since Severus helped him escape from the clutches of a group of angry aurors. Theodore brusquely kicked the chair next to him towards Severus.

“Sit down, old chap. Let’s chat for a while.”

“I’m afraid I cannot stay long. I have rather pressing matters to attend to.” Severus sat down next to his old classmate, wondering what he was up to this time. There was a prize of a thousand galleons on Theodore’s head. If he has returned to England, he must have some nefarious plan in mind.

“Pressing matters? Remind me again, who are you working for this time? Dumbledore? Voldemort? A random dude walking along the street?” Theodore chuckled and blew a ring of smoke out of his pipe.

“A combination of all three, I believe.” Severus’s lips twitched slightly. “And what, pray tell, brings you back to England? My last informant assured me that you were hiding in a secluded part of the Caribbean Islands.”


“Your informant needs an upgrade, old chap. I have been in England for the last two weeks.” A man sitting in the center of the room called out loudly for a beer. He banged his big fist of the table insistently.

“I see that you have taken a rather risky course of action. What brings you back?” Theodore cast a quick glance around him to make sure that no one was watching. He dug his hand into his robe pocket and took out a small object.

“I have something here that might interest you. It is, after all, your area of expertise.” Theodore placed it onto the table and rolled it over. Severus caught it with his left hand and examined it carefully. It was a potion vial with a transparent liquid swishing inside it. The surface of the liquid was bubbling furiously like boiling water. But the bubbles erupted to let out a sulfurous yellow smoke.

“Recognize that?” Theodore asked proudly. He was beaming as he watched Severus, the pipe dangling casually from his lips.

“Of course. The Peitrifica. A potion designed to transform every single cell in the human body to stone. Unlike normal petrifying spells, this potion’s effects are very slow and painful. Starting from the tips of the fingers and the toes, the transformation gradually spreads inwards until it reaches the heart. The victim could be in agony for hours.”

“Spoken like a true potion’s textbook.” He chuckled, thumping Severus on the back. Another customer entered the pub. It was a woman, a tall beautiful woman with glossy black hair. She smiled at Severus as she passed their table. Something about her expression was familiar. Severus had probably met her before but it was hard to tell for sure, appearance modifying spells were common in Knockturn Alley.

“Were you wantin’ anything, lad?” An elderly man with blackened teeth, waddled over to their table cheerfully.

“Not yet, Arimus, I am merely passing through to the training grounds tonight.” Severus replied with a polite nod of the head. Artimus might look like a shriveled peach but he was a Slytherin and he had helped the younger generations of snakes as best as he could. He had given them sanctuary from Potter and his relentless gang. Slytherins watched out for each other. That is one of their main characteristics. No one would ever betray a fellow Slytherin, no one except Severus Snape, the traitor. He sighed internally and focused his attention back to the vial in his hand. These thoughts are dangerous. He cannot let them resurface, he cannot let his doubts creep in, not now that he had a child to protect. Harry was waiting for him, Harry with his black and white vision of the world. The child cannot understand what he was feeling and Severus hoped to God that he never would.

“And what do you intend to do with such a potion?” Severus asked, focusing his attention back on his smug looking friend. Theodore took his pipe out of his mouth and pointed with the tip to the vial in Severus’s fingers.

“That is the key to everything. It is the reason why I came here.” Severus waited. He suspected what this was all about but he wanted to hear the truth from the man’s lips. A part of Severus hoped that his suspicions were false. Theodore was reckless, he could get into a lot of trouble if he used this potion. What will happen to his son then? Already his son is bitter and miserable because his father was forced to leave them and go into hiding, what will the poor boy feel if his father was captured and sent to Azkaban? Severus cannot help him this time. He used to have a method to help his friends escape from Azkaban. He had found a weak point in its defenses and he, along with Lucius and Narcissa have exploited it. But that way was blocked. Years ago, the Headmaster found out and put a stop to it.

“I’m going to pay a visit to our old friend, Aldonis Finnigan.” Theo clamped his pipe back onto his mouth. A hazy red smoke rose lazily out of the opening. It hung around them, causing them to be shrouded by a reddish mist. He was smoking the Drekthen plant. It was not good for his soul, he knew that. The Drekthen played with his mind, it made him forget the bad memories but the moment he stops smoking it, the memories return with a crushing force. Severus knew that very well, after all, he still remembered its effects. It had taken him years with the help of the Headmaster to get over its poisonous effects. But Theodore was still completely addicted. The pipe was always in his mouth but now, his mind has gotten used to its effects. It no longer keeps the bad memories at bay. It no longer helps him forget Aldonis Finnigan and everything that vile man has done to him and his family.

“Remember him?” Theodore asked, grinning wildly. His tone was casual and carefree. He used to fly into fits of rage when the man was mentioned but the drug was softening the anger. “Fat guy with a big mouth, always laughing? Well, we’ll see who’s laughing at the end of the day.” Theodore chuckled. He leaned forwards and snatched the potion from Severus’s fingers. He threw it into the air once and caught it deftly with his left hand.

“I see.” Severus stated briefly. It was useless trying to persuade his friend not to go along with the plan. He never listened. He would probably thump Severus on the back and tell him not to worry so much all the time. But he did worry. He had to worry. Not only about him, but about his son as well. T.J. was his student, his responsibility. Severus was worried about the boy. He caught the child hanging around the seventh floor outside the Gryffindor dormitories. What had he been up to? Certainly nothing good. Was he following Seamus Finnigan? T.J. was obsessed with his Gryffindor classmate. He kept following him around, his eyes gleaming with hatred. So far he hasn’t done anything but what if his father was captured trying to attack Aldonis? What will happen then? Severus sighed. This was all such a mess.

“I trust that you are not working alone.” He asked, hoping that someone a bit smarter than Theodore would be part of the group.

“Definitely not. When I spread word around about my plans, there were plenty of volunteers to help.” He chuckled as he stuffed the potion back into his pocket. “What about you? Want to come along, old chap?” Severus hesitated. He was tempted. He was solely tempted. For one thing, he could keep Theodore from getting caught. But he couldn’t trust himself to do this. What if the sight of torture awakened the old anger in him, the old desire for revenge? Finnigan had been one of them, one of the people who had ruined all their lives. The beast had watched them suffer day after day and he had laughed. Severus still remembered it. It was a loud, booming laugh that echoed around the tunnels. His belly jiggled as his body moved. They would scream and he would laugh. They would beg for mercy and he would laugh. They lay dying at his feet, gasping for breath and he, the stupid bastard, laughed. Severus clenched his hands into fists, the nails digging into his flesh. Merlin, it would be so satisfying. Watching him slowly turn to stone, watching the moment when the laughter dies on his lips.

But no, he couldn’t. He couldn’t take the risk. He had just managed to put aside his hatred for James Potter and have a decent relationship with little Harry. Revenge had a nasty habit of becoming addictive. What if he took out his anger on Harry again? What if he started hating and insulting the boy? What if he did something worse? No, he couldn’t risk it. He had a child to protect now. A child who was at home, blind and miserable, waiting for his help.

“Not this time, Theodore.” Severus stood up slowly. There was nothing he could do for him now. He had to think about the child first. He had to get away from Theodore, his proposal was too tempting. If he stayed for another moment, he might throw all caution to the wind and follow him on a potentially dangerous vendetta. “I trust I shall see you again soon.”

“What, leaving so soon? Don’t you want to hear the details of the plan?”

“As I stated before, I have pressing matters to attend to.” Severus took a step back.

“All right, then, Severus. Go attend to your ‘pressing matters’.” He chuckled blowing a gust of red smoke out of his pipe. “I won’t be leaving England for a while. We can chat later.” Severus gave his friend a stiff bow before turned around and striding resolutely to the back of the room. He was careful not to look back.

Arimus was chatting animatedly with a little woman at the back of the room. Severus caught his eye and gave him a little nod. It was enough. Arimus understood his meaning perfectly well. He turned around and muttering a quick spell, he pressed an invisible lever on the wall. There was a soft click as a small trapdoor appeared behind the counter. It opened outwards slowly, revealing a staircase of misshapen rocks that spiraled down into the darkness.

Severus walked down slowly, taking care not to step on the lichen. It was a slow descent. The stone was damp and slippery and, in places, it was chiseled away, leaving behind only a narrow section. As he walked further and further into the gloom, he could see a faint purple glow illuminating the walls around him. The staircase spiraled down into a long low tunnel that extended beyond his line of sight. Lanterns were placed on roughly chiseled holes on the wall. Purple flames danced inside the lanterns, turning the black stone walls and floor a strange iridescent color.

Severus walked along the tunnel. There were circular openings on each side that led into different rooms. The death eaters called this place the training grounds. It was where they all came to practice dark magic and to test the effects of illegal potions and poison tipped weapons. Each one of these rooms were dedicated to a different aspect of training. Severus came to the dueling room. It was a wide circular room, largely bare except for the moving mannequins in the corners, their red eyes blazing in the dim light. Quietly, they waited for someone to walk in and activate them. The wands gripped in their right hands seemed to twitch impatiently as they waited. Severus cast a quick glance around the room. No one was there, no one except Toras, a fifteen year old boy who spent his days inside that room. He didn’t talk or pay attention to anyone. He simply haunted the dueling room, his wand pointed at a disfigured mannequin, obsessively casting spell after spell.

Severus walked on. He went past the pyromancer’s room. He could hear the whosh of the flames as they bounced around the stone walls. Lionara must be practicing. She had a natural talent with fire. She didn’t need a wand to make the flames obey her. All she needed was her mind and her anger. And, dear Merlin, she had so much of that buried inside her. Severus passed a dozen other room, each populated by only one or two people. There was the classic weapons room where marvelous magical daggers and spears hung on the walls. Most of their blades were imbibed with poisons and destructive charms. There was the potion experimentation room, Severus’s favorite. Different vials were set into tiny openings in the rock wall. From inside, Severus heard the high-pitched squeaking of thousands of white mice as they scuttled around the big cage in the center of the room.

Finally, he heard voices up ahead. They were coming from the special weapons room, a place where the most unusual dark devices were tested. Severus quickened his step and came to a little round opening on the left side of the tunnel. He could see about a dozen death eaters standing inside. They were gathered around an experimentation table and they were talking excited in loud booming voices. No one even noticed Severus as he slipped quietly inside and joined the group. He saw Mulciber, Fiona, Darvus and there, standing in the middle was Lucius Malfoy. He stood out easily with his fashionable cloths and his snake headed cane.

“I found this beauty up there in Ireland. It was mighty hard to get my hands on them but with a little hex here and a curse there, I got them alright.” Volvus, a tall thin death eater with a wide grin, was holding up a silver casket. His blackened teeth gaped at them as they all watched the casket with fascination. “Oh, it’s deadly alright. There’s no true man out there who wouldn’t want to own this thing here.” He patted the casket almost affectionately.

“Well, what is it then?” A voice barked impatiently.

“It’s something that will make this here body vanish in an instant, that it will.” Volvus pointed with a gnarled white finger at the experimentation table. The specimen was laid out on it. It was a mannequin that was designed to look and have the same physical properties as a real human body. It had muscles and tissues, bones and internal organs. In short, it had everything but a soul. It looked like a middle aged man who was laying naked on the table, his blue eyes wide open and blinking. Even his chest rose and fell rhythmically as he breathed. Severus stepped closer, interested despite everything to know what was in that casket.

“Oh stop dawdled, you dumb ass and show us what’s in that bloody casket or I’ll have your hide. You’ve been hinting and advertising the thing for a long time and we’re mighty tired of your words.”

“Oh alright, then.” Volvus laughed. “Feast your eyes on this.” The casket clicked open and everyone bent forward to have a better look. They stared at the contents, completely dumbfounded. There were only a handful of little insects scuttling around the box, yearning to get out. Their backs were red and covered with black spots.

“Ladybugs?” Someone sneered, recognizing the tiny insects. “You have a box of ladybugs and you call them weapons? Have you completely lost your mind?”

“Ah but these are no ordinary ladybugs. They’re highly dangerous. Watch.” Volvus tipped the casket over the specimen. The ladybugs dropped onto the milk white chest and for a moment, they stood completely still, confused and disorientated. Then, they all started to move, scuttling over the man’s skin. It was all ordinary insect behavior and yet, as they moved the body underneath them began to twitch. At first, the muscles had briefs spasms as if an electric shock was passing through them. Then, the whole body shook violently, the arms and legs flailing helplessly as the little ladybugs crawled over his skin. It wasn’t long until they noticed what was happening. The ladybugs were eating the man’s skin. It was extraordinary, how fast these ladybugs worked. As they watched, big gaping holes appeared in the body. Muscle tissues appeared under the layers of skin. The ladybugs kept feeding, digging into the flesh. They ate and ate until there was nothing left but ivory white bones.

“Well, I’ll be damned. You were right, Volvus. That really is a most effective weapon.” For a few minutes, they discussed the potential uses of such weapons and their possible disadvantages. All around them, sitting on high wooden selves, bizarre objects watched them. Skulls with grinning mouths, jars filled with unknown substances and magical creatures enclosed in glass boxes.

“Personally, I find the idea of how such beings originated to be much more intriguing. They are no known species of magical creatures. Perhaps they are ladybugs altered with dark spells. Truly fascinating. I shall investigate the matter when I find the time.” Severus stated, watching the ladybugs crawl around the remains of the body. Until now, he had been silent. Absorbed by the new weapons, he had gone unnoticed, but now, familiar faces turned towards him. Some offered him friendly smiles and a few words of greeting. They all knew him. Some of them were old classmates, others he had met more recently but all of them were his friends. They were death eaters, people he shouldn’t care about but how could he not? He was been through hell and back with these people. That can never change, no matter what stood between them now.

“Snape. Where the hell have you been?” Ah, Mulciber. Polite as always. He was glaring at Severus fiercely but that didn’t mean much. He always glared. Students thought Severus was fierce and threatening but one look at Mulciber would have them running for cover. His face was invisible under all the tattoos etched into his skin. A forest of thorns and leaves twisted and twined all over his body, from the tips of his fingers to the very edge of his forehead. And, if you watch closely, you can spot the animals hiding in between the leaves. Snakes, lions, tigers and eagles. Wild animals from all over the world were painted onto his skin and slowly, they moved, creeping over his arms, slithering over his face.

“Rather unfortunately, I was detained.” Severus answered evenly.

“My goodness, Severus. I was beginning to get worried. Four days and not a word. I have sent you a pair letters and they both returned, unopened. What have you been up to?” Lucius asked. He was frowning at Severus, his grey eyes filled with concern. He was watching Severus intently, no doubt taking in his thin appearance and the shadows under his eyes. Despite everything, Severus was glad to see him again. He had missed his frequent visits to Malfoy Manor.

“Believe me, Lucius, I would much rather have corresponded with you but Dumbledore had other plans.” Shia glided up to him and handed him a tall glass filled with a golden liquid. She was a short slim woman and she was always covered from head to toe with a long baggy dress that trailed along the ground. It concealed every inch of her skin, from her neck to the tips of her fingers. Despite her small stature, she was very strong. He had endured the worst and still survived. Her voice was gone but, at the very least, her sanity was intact. Severus couldn’t say the same for the rest of them.

Severus nodded his thanks and took a swallow. Shia was a natural healer, not only of the body but also of the mind. If she gave you something, you had better take it because she never gives anything without a purpose. The moment the liquid touched his lips, he could feel his muscles relax. His mind, tense and aching from the Headmaster’s intrusion began to calm down. Severus could feel the barriers he had erected around his most precious memories retracting. With a soft sigh, he let them crumble and disappear. With these people, he had nothing to fear. Even if they wanted to, not one of them was powerful enough to legilimize him.

“Well, what the fuck did that old bastard do now?” Mulciber asked. Thousands of eyes blinked on his skin as the animals watched Severus intently. Their predator senses were alert, ready to attack.

“He kept me locked up at Healer’s touch. I had no way to communicate with anyone. My wand had been confiscated and the house elves were under strict orders not to let me out.”

“What? Why would he do that?” They were all watched him, listening to his words. Severus could almost sense the anger boiling inside them. None of them had any cause to like Dumbledore. In fact, most of them hated his guts. He had failed each and every single one of them. He was the reason why they were here, hiding in the tunnels with a dark mark etched into their arms. If Dumbledore had been fairer, if he had been just a little less blind to what James Potter and his gang truly were, then how many lives could have been saved?

“He was under the mistaken impression that I cursed his precious Golden Boy.” Severus sneered and tried to put as much venom as he could into the last few words. He didn’t want them to find out what he truly felt about Harry. Not yet, hopefully, not ever. What would they do if they knew the truth? Severus couldn’t be sure. He did not think that he was in any immediate danger from these people but… James Potter had a strange, unpredictable effect on all of them. Who knows what they could be capable of where his son is concerned?

“Did something happen to the brat?” A man with a thick red mane of hair asked eagerly. His eyes glistened brightly as he waited to hear the bad news. Severus cast a quick glance around him. All their eyes gleamed with triumph, even silent Shia’s. They wanted him to get hurt. They wanted to hear that Harry was scared and hurt and miserable. Perhaps, they were even imagining it in their own minds right now, the very worst. An unpleasant shiver went down his spine. He had been like that too. Only a month ago, he would’ve felt completely satisfied to hear this news.

“Yes, someone has caused him to lose his sight. He is now groping along the corridors, completely blind.” Someone laughed. A woman. Her high pitched voice filled the room. It sounded strange and unnatural. Laughter did not belong in these tunnels. Everyone in the group was grinning, everyone except Mulciber who was still openly glaring at everything around him. But even he was glad. You could tell his mood by the animals on his skin. They began to run excitedly around his body, howling with triumph.

“So, the mini Potter is blind, is he?” Dalvius asked. Up until now, he hadn’t spoken a word. “Merlin, that’s delicious. Do you think it’s true, what they say of the dead? Do you think they watch us from beyond the veil. Christ, I hope it’s true. I hope Potter can see, wherever he is. I hope he’ll know what it’s like to watch your flesh and blood suffer.” He smiled and licked his lips. Dalvius was different from the rest of them. He still retained an outward appearance of charm and carefree innocence. He was Severus’s same age but while Severus looked older, Dalvius looked years younger. Little dimples appeared on his cheeks when he smiled. It’s hard to tell just by looking at him, how much anger and bitterness he concealed.

“Tell me, did he suffer? Did Potter cry out in pain when the curse overtook him?” Severus gulped. He fought to keep his expression neutral. He didn’t like that idea, he didn’t like it at all. Little Harry suffering? No, he didn’t want that, not anymore. Dalvius was watching him eagerly, hanging onto his every word.

“I wouldn’t know. He didn’t inform me of any pain, only of a weakness of the body.” Severus stated as calmly as he could,

“Pity.” Dalvius sighed, disappointed at the lack of gruesome details.

“Yes, it is a pity. It is a pity that this happened at all. I would very much like to know who cast such a spell. It occurred under my very nose and I could do nothing to stop it!” Snape hissed coldly. The anger in his voice was not feigned at all. He was getting tired of this. He wanted to go back to the poor child. He needed Severus, he wanted Severus. Merlin only knows why but it is the truth. He should get back to him as soon as possible. Harry will get cured and then, Severus will take him to Alton Towers and so many other places. Harry was not James. He was a good person, someone who deserved happiness.

“Why are you so angry about this Severus? What is it to you if the brat is blind?” Lucius asked mildly.

“It wouldn’t mean a thing if Dumbledore hasn’t accused me of doing the deed. He insisted on my guilt. He even attempted to use legilimency to extract a confession out of me. Naturally he failed.”

“He legilimeced you, for how long?”

“Long enough. In the end, I was left completely exhausted. And that is not the worst part. If by the end of the week, I still haven’t found the culprit, Dumbledore will force me to take the Visionara Potion.” Voices of surprise and outrage burst out from all around the room. “He can’t do that.” “That filthy bastard!” They exclaimed, indignant that Dumbledore could treat one of their own like that. They all knew of how badly the Visionara Potion had affected Severus the last time.

“So you see the problematic situation this places me in.” Severus hissed angrily before taking another sip of the golden liquid in his hands.

“You know, there is a solution.” Dalvius was speaking again. He wasn’t looking at Severus. His eyes were still focused on the ladybugs. “A simple one. This old man could be… taken out of the picture. It will be hard but not impossible. All of us against one of him. The numbers are on our side.”

“That’s too risky, Dalvius, you know that. He has protection spells surrounding him, not to mention the Order of the Phoenix members who are at his beck and call all hours of the day.” Severus stated quickly. This conversation was getting out of control. Maybe, just maybe what they said could be possible. Dumbledore was powerful but he still remained one man. If all of them banded together and went after him, he will find it very hard to escape. No, that is not good. Severus must prevent that from happening.

“You are the stupidest person I’ve ever met, Snape.” Mulciber glared. A scorpion scuttled over his cheek. The tip of its tail swayed as it moved. “The only reason you don’t want us to attack him is because you’re fond of the old bastard.”

“Wherever did you come up with such a ridiculous notion, Mulciber? What would I care if the old man is eliminated? It is only the possibility of failing that matters to me.” Severus stated coolly, looking right at his red rimmed eyes. The scorpion was moving between his eyes now. It scuttled over the bridge of his nose. “The Order of the Phoenix grows ever stronger and the Headmaster has the means of communicating instantaneously with them. If you move against him, failure is guaranteed. It will be a suicide mission so forgive me if I want no part of it.” Finally, Aryna was returning. Severus could see her round body slithering over the stone floor. She was moving towards him hurriedly. People moved out of the way as she came by. They all believed she was highly poisonous and Severus did nothing to tamper this belief. As every Slytherin knows, fear is a useful tool.

“I understand that Severus but all the same, I could never feel safe until they’re both dead and buried. Him and that Golden brat. I have a boy starting Hogwarts next year. I don’t like the idea of him being there with Potter so close.” The red haired man bellowed with his loud voice. His whiskeys were damp with vine and the liquid drippled down his chin.

“Aye, that kid is dangerous.” Another skinny man at the back of the group agreed. Severus kept his mask solidly on. This talk disquieted him. They had talked about killing Potter’s son many times before but it didn’t lead to anything. This was routine, nothing would come of it. Severus told himself firmly. There was no use worrying and he couldn’t risk speaking in the boy’s defense now. He had already stopped them from plotting against Dumbledore. Suspicions might start inside their keen minds. Slytherins were a particularly hard bunch to fool.

“The brat is still eleven years old.” A young boy hiding in the back interrupted quickly. “Let us at least wait until he becomes an adult before making any plans to kill him."

“Why the hell should we do that? Small and vulnerable is easier to kill.” Mulciber growled.

“But… but… we can’t kill a boy! No matter whose son it is.”

“Of course not. We let him live and grow up and carry on his father’s legacy. The Potters have controlled Normengard for generations. When this boy comes of age he will inherit the “family business” and then, what can we do? History will repeat itself and all our efforts will have been in vain. We have killed, we have tortured, we have done everything in our power to destroy Normengard and everyone who was ever involved with it. All this will have been for nothing if the boy survives and reunites the Purifiers. He is their natural leader. As long as he’s alive, we are all in grave danger. He needs to be eliminated.”

“But what about the Dark Lord? He gave us specific instructions to not permanently harm the brat. He wants to kill the Boy-Who-Lived himself.”

“Screw the Dark Lord! He is a pathetic weakling with a borrowed body. There’s no need to be scared of him, not anymore. Him and his bloody obsession with muggleborns. Who cares about them? Its Potter and the surviving Purifiers we have to catch. They’re the real danger.” They were all nodding solemnly. There was truth to these words. Severus knew that perfectly well. Eliminating the Purifiers was a perfect idea but Harry was no Purifier, at least not yet. He was just a boy who doted on his father because he didn’t know the full truth. To him, James Potter was the embodiment of all that was good and pure. A gross misinterpretation. Harry will grow up never knowing the dark legacy of his father, untainted by his twisted ideals and methods. Harry is good. How can Severus doubt that? He didn’t deserve to die. Maybe if James Potter was alive and ready to poison Harry’s mind then Severus too would be worried that the boy would step into his father’s shoes. The danger he posed was too excessive but thankfully, Potter Senior was dead and buried. He was reduced to nothing but dirt and bones, no longer a threat to anyone. He was no longer here to pass his ideals onto his son. Thankfully, no magic, however powerful, can raise the dead. But how can Severus make these people see that? How can he make them understand?

“Since he’s living out there with Severus, getting him killed won’t be too hard. Just slipping some poison into his food should do the trick,” said the red haired man. He brought his enormous dwarf beer mug to his lips. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed loudly.

“No, you pigheaded idiot. What the fuck do you think would happen to Snape if the brat gets poisoned in his own home?” Mulciber glared. A wolf resting on his throat bared its fangs at the man and growled ferociously. Aryna had arrived at Severus’s feet. She slowly slithered up his robes and coiled over his arm. Her red tongue flicked in and out of her mouth rhythmically. Severus nodded his head at her. He couldn’t speak to her, not here. Not many people knew that he was a parcelmouth. That was dangerous information. It gave an indication of the true extent of his abilities. It was a gift that Salazar Slytherin bestowed only on a chosen few, those he considered worthiest of the gift. Unfortunately, he made a terrible misjudgment when he gave the gift to young and charismatic Tom Riddle.

“Guessssss what I saw hiding in the old ssstoreroom?” She hissed into his ear. Not now, Aryna. Severus thought silently. He had to concentrate on this conversation. He needed to know how to protect the child from their plans. He patted her scaled head once before pushing it gently away from his ear.

“Well, maybe we could kidnap him at Diagon Alley and be done with it. Surely, no one is constantly watching his back twenty four seven. We can get a deadly hex in somehow.”

“Hey! How dare you push me away? Here I was trying to give you some ussseful information and you disssmis me.” Aryna hissed angrily. She opened her mouth and her fangs shone, long and dangerous. One bite on his throat and he would be dead. But Severus was more annoyed than worried right now. This was no time to be fighting with his snake. He couldn’t afford any distractions.

“Ah but you seem to be forgetting the protection spells cast on the boy by the headmaster and by his devoted followers.” Severus reasoned coolly. His voice was mild and unconcerned. He tried his best to ignore the angry snake around his throat. Several of them were giving him worried glances. The angry snake might not affect him but it certainly did affect the other death eaters. They watched her fangs with widened eyes.

“Severus! You ssssily fool. Lisssten to me. There is someone watching you.” Well, of course there are people watching him! He’s in a crowded room. Now would you please just let me concentrate. Harry’s life hangs in the balance here. Severus fervently wished that he could just hiss at her to go away but he couldn’t, not here, not in front of all these people.

“Well, can’t you find out exactly what kind of protection spells he has on him. Maybe we can find a way to bypass them.” Volvus asked.

“That girl. The one with hair like a messsy bird’s nest. Sssshe is here, she is watching.” Severus started and focused his attention entirely on Aryna. What was she talking about? Her description sounded like Miss Granger but that can’t be right. How can she be here? Surely, the protection spells would have blocked her by now. Severus arched an eyebrow at her in silent indication for her to continue.

“Sssshe is hiding in the closet right behind you. Sssshe’s wearing that cloak but I can see her. Sily humans cannot fool me.” The invisibility cloak? Only Harry and his friends have access to that cloak. Then Miss Granger is really here, in the middle of a roomful of angry death eater. What can the idiot girl be thinking? Uh! Stubborn Gryffindors and their unhealthy persistence! What happened to her sense of self-preservation? Severus cast a quick glance at the small door to his left. It was open but only slightly, certainly not enough to be noticed. Someone was definitely there. Silly child! What can she be thinking? Severus always thought that Miss Granger, out of all those hotheaded Gryffindors, at least had some sense to her. She was intelligent and cautious but apparently she was not bright enough to stay out of affairs that are too great for her. What can Severus do?

The plans for killing the child were proceeding rapidly. He has to stay here and listen and do his very best to persuade them against it. He cannot leave now and yet, how can he let Miss Granger stay there unprotected? At any moment now, Alecto Carrow will be making an appearing. He was the man who currently hosted the Dark Lord’s spirit and he had Nagini at his heels. If Miss Granger remained here for long she would surely be caught and then, it didn’t take a lot of imagination to guess what will happen. No, she must be saved.

“What about we kidnap him straight from Hogwarts? We can ask Crabbe and Goyle to abduct him when he goes too near the dungeons.” Severus had only one choice. He cannot go himself but he could ask someone else to take her away. But could Severus trust him? Would he really protect the girl if Severus asked him to? He was a good friend, surely he would do it. But risking Miss Granger’s life like this is not a good choice.

“But then, how will Crabbe and Goyle get the brat out of Hogwarts.” Severus will have to risk it. There is no other way. Casually he leaned towards Lucius and whispered the truth into his ear. The man’s grey eyes widened with shock and immediately, his eyes snapped to the closet where he too noticed the open door. He grinned with closed lips and shook his head. His white blond hair swayed back and forth lightly. The snake head on his cane gleamed in the firelight, its green eyes watching Severus. Lucius looked at Severus and gave a small nod. A smile was dancing at the corner of his lips as he excused himself and with a few parting words, walked away.

-------- HG --------

It worried her how calmly these people were plotting Harry’s murder. The grim figures standing in front of her were putting forward idea after idea, each one more subtle and surprising than the next. From inside the storeroom, Hermione watched them closely. It was the tattooed man who was talking now, his loud gruff voice rising above the rest. Surprisingly, he was the one who shot down most of their ideas. Out of them all, he looked the cruelest. He was tall and muscular, the muscles in his jaws twitched as he spoke.

Professor Snape fitted right into this grim gathering. He was one of them with his cold voice and the black snake curled around his neck. He was listening intently to the discussion, sipping his vine and coolly offering the occasional casual comment. He didn’t seem the least bit affected by the fact that his ward’s murder was being planned. In fact, with his lips quirked upwards, he looked like he found the entire thing completely amusing. If Snape really was working for the death eaters, then considering what Hermione was hearing, Harry was in even greater danger than she had originally feared.

Hermione watched those tiny creatures scuttle around on the white tabletop. They looked so harmless but Hermione had seen with her very eyes what they could do. She had seen them eat through human flesh and consume an entire body. They were a powerful weapon, especially considering that nobody would ever suspect them. They looked like ladybugs. Who would ever think of guarding themselves against ladybugs? Hermione adored magic but as she watched those creatures creep onto the body and bite into the dead man’s eyes, she was acutely aware of its dangers and limitations. With magic there were so many unknowns and unexpected variables. How can someone defend themselves against something they don’t understand. Hermione has read hundreds of books about the magical world but there was still so much she didn’t know. These weapons, for example. She wasn’t even aware that there were branches of magic other than potions that did not involve a wand.


The more she saw today, the more she understood that there are still so many unknowns out there, potential dangers that could eliminate them so quickly that they won’t even have time to realize what was happening. These creatures on the table, for example, what were they? Bizarre magical creatures? Ladybugs that have been enhanced with spells? Genetic mutations? Were there even such things as genetic mutations in the wizard world? Hermione wished she could get her hands on one of those creatures. Their habits were fascinating. Possibly, she could try and determine how they were altered. This underground tunnel was so… different. Hermione has never seen anything like it.

She wondered whether she could come down here another time and explore the various rooms. She had seen rooms with medieval weapons such as arrows, swords and lances. Did wizards still use such weapons? If so, then they cannot be ordinary. They must have been enhanced by magic. Maybe they could become invisible or they could cut through protection shields. There was so much to learn! Hermione wondered why Harry was not learning about these things. If these people were coming after him then he must know how to defend himself against their weapons.

The death eaters were starting to argue loudly. Some of them were completely against the idea of eliminating a child but the majority of them were eager for blood. Professor Snape remained carefully neutral. Supporting one side of the argument and then the other. Well, that made sense if he was trying to avert their suspicions. Of course, if he…

A hand came out of nowhere and suddenly clamped over her mouth. Hermione let out a muffled gasp. Someone was standing behind her, holding her body against his with a firm grip. She tried to reach for her wand but another hand came out and yanked it out of her pocket. No! No! She’s done for! A death eater has caught her. They’re going to kill her! They’re going to feed her to those creatures, letting her flesh be eaten alive. Hermione struggled with all her strength. She wriggled in the man’s tight grasp. A hand had clamped over her wrist. She tried to yank it free but she couldn’t. His grip was strong. He was so much bigger than her, he was an adult while she was just a child. She stood no chance, not without a wand. She tugged at her hand again. She needed to get her wand back! Dimly, she was aware that the man was chuckling softly, laughing at her efforts. He twisted her hand behind her back. Damn, that hurt. Hermione felt that her bones would snap but she didn’t stop struggling. She couldn’t. She had to fight. He will kill her!

Hermione didn’t hear the spell being cast. One moment, she was struggling against the strange man, her body twisting in all directions, the next she stood completely frozen. Her body refused to obey her. Her arms didn’t move, her knees were bent slightly but they wouldn’t straighten. She couldn’t even blink. She was immobilized. She was trapped. She was completely trapped in a death eater’s den. What had she gotten herself into?

“You’re a little she devil, aren’t you?” A deep voice whispered into her ear. The man had leaned forwards so that his face was inches away from her ear. She could feel his breath on her skin. A curtain of white blond hair hung from his head and fell over her right shoulder. It was Malfoy! Hermione held her breathe. What was going to happen? What was he going to do with her?

“Well, well, what is a little bird doing in the snake pit?” He whispered so quietly that Hermione was barely able to hear him. She tried to struggle again but it felt as if her body no longer belonged to her.

“A fragile thing like you shouldn’t come near such dangerous places. You might just get your pretty head chopped off.” The curtain of hair swung back and forth lightly, ticking her skin. From outside, Hermione heard the raised voices of the death eaters as they continued to argue. Professor Snape was hissing angrily. If only Hermione could contact him in some way. Then, if he truly worked for the light, he would save her.

“Your name is Miss Granger, isn’t it? Yes, my son has told me all about you. Maybe I should call you Miss Know-it-all instead. He said that you were quite intelligent. Well, at least for a muggle born.” He was enjoying himself. Hermione could hear the laughter in his voice. He would watch her suffer and laugh about it. The soulless bastard! Hermione’s eyes blazed with anger. If only she had a wand. She had learned a few good hexes over the summer. She could wipe that ridiculous smirk right off his face! “But it seems that you are not so intelligent after all. Sneaking in here was a bad choice but fortunately for you, matters are about to change.” Malfoy gripped her forearm tightly. There was a barely audible pop and they suddenly vanished. All that was left of them was a thin swirl of black smoke that quickly dispersed into the air.

------ HG ------

Malfoy Manor was not simply grand, it was regal. Hermione had never seen such a lavishly decorated house. The floors were made of a dark green marble so shiny that Hermione could see her reflection staring back at her. The walls were covered with black wallpaper decorated with silver vines. Silver flowers sprouted out of the walls, their petals opening and closely languidly. A shimmer of glitter fell from the flowers in a shining stream each time the petals opened. The glitter vanished into thin air before it touched the polished floors. White marble statues were everywhere, standing out in the black background. Winged horses stood on the four corners of the room, their wings spread wide and their head lifted up in a proud attitude. Two mermaids flanked the double doors, their golden scales glowing in the half light. And there were others, magical creatures hanging from the ceiling, protruding from the walls, standing tall behind the chairs. Hermione got the constant feeling that she was being watched.

Despite the clearly expensive decorations, the overall effect of the dark coloring was rather gloomy. The black furniture and wallpaper seemed to absorb all the light flittering through the narrow windows. They were set so high up in the walls that Hermione couldn’t catch a single glimpse of the outside. Enclosed within these four walls, Hermione felt stifled and trapped. The Burrow with its large windows and doors was much more welcoming than this melancholy place. There was life at the Burrow: constant voices drifting in and out, the chatter of the garden gnomes, the clash and bang of children playing outside and the continual echoes of laughter. Everything was fresh and peaceful at the Burrow while here, the silence and lack of light was oppressive. This place looked like a breathtaking museum rather than a proper home.

Hermione was sitting on a black leather couch in the middle of a large drawing room. The doors on either side were so far away Hermione couldn’t distinguish the marking on them. There was a roaring fire in front of her but the fire was a deep emerald and instead of warmth, its bright flames were cold like frozen ice. Mr. Malfoy sat in the armchair directly opposite her. His snake headed walking stick was leaning on the side of the chair, its sharp fangs pointed right at her.

It unsettled her, the way Mr. Malfoy was watching her. His grey eyes were fixed intently on her face, observing every shift in expression, every deformity and every insecurity. She felt as if she was under a microscope being examined by hungry eyes. Hermione shifted a little in her seat uncomfortably but she stared right back at him. If he felt the need to stare at her like a unmannered boy then he deserved the same treatment. She examined his face at her leisure, trying to ignore those probing eyes.

It was astonishing how much like his son he looked, not only the color of his hair and eyes but also the shape of his face. He looked exactly like an older version of Draco Malfoy. There were winkles in the corner of his eyes and they shone brightly with a sentiment Hermione couldn’t quite understand. His lips were curled at the sides slightly as if he was trying his best to suppress a smile. Oddly he looked happy, even delighted about something. Hermione couldn’t really understand why that was. Nothing that made a Malfoy happy could be good.

But then again, Mr. Malfoy had saved her life back at the death eater gathering. At least, that’s what he claimed. Mr. Malfoy had told her that he meant no harm. The only reason she was brought here was because Professor Snape had seen her eavesdropping and he wanted her to be brought to a safe place. Hermione wasn’t sure about that. How can Mr. Malfoy, the known criminal be considered safe? Still, apart from the blatant staring and the occasional patronizing tone Mr. Malfoy was behaving decently. He had removed the freezing charm on her and he had even given her a cup of pumpkin juice and a plate of chocolate chip cookies to nibble on. That was unexpected. A Malfoy being decent was not something she was used to.

Maybe he was being nice because he wanted something from her. Maybe he thought that she could give him information about the Order of the Phoenix. Well, if that was the case he would be disappointed. Children were not allowed at the order meetings and even though Ron grumbled and complained about the unfairness of it, Hermione understood the reasoning behind that rule. Information inside the wizarding world was never safe, especially in the hands of children who didn’t know enough magic to defend themselves. A swift mind reading or mind controlling spell could easy extract the information out of her. Hermione has been studying and practicing all the spells she could get her hands on but still, it was not enough. Against a fully grown wizard she was defenseless.

“Well? What do you think of my home, Miss Granger?” Malfoy’s voice interrupted her thoughts. He was still watching her. Really, why did he have to do that all the time? It was getting creepy.

“It’s good place, well decorated.” Hermione answered reasonably. Somehow she didn’t think that calling it gloomy and worse than the Burrow would go down well with Mr. Malfoy.

“Still, you don’t like it.” That was not a question. Hermione thought it was safe not to answer. She wished Professor Snape would come soon and get her out of this mess. “Why is that, Miss Granger? What is it that you could possibly disapprove of in the great Malfoy family home?”

“It is a little too dark for me.” Hermione replied reluctantly. Mr. Malfoy chuckled, the crinkles around his eyes becoming more pronounced.

“A typical Gryffindor response.” Mr. Malfoy didn’t seem the least bit offended by her words. His eyes sparkled brightest as if, for some reason, her response pleased him. “But I except you’ll have to get used to it. You’ll stay here for some time.” The hair on Hermione’s neck stood on end.

“But you told me that as soon as Professor Snape gets here, I’ll be gone.”

“Of course. But Severus is a busy man. It might take him a while to get here.” Something about the way he said it unsettled Hermione. He sounded like he didn’t want to let her go. He wanted to keep her here and examine her like a curious specimen. “Now tell me, little muggleborn. What was a girl like you doing in the secret tunnels of the Black Basilisk?”

“I was curious.” Hermione stately evenly. She picked up the glass of pumpkin juice hovering on the table beside her. The glass was cold under her fingertips, freezing her already cold fingers. Mr. Malfoy chuckled again, sharing a laugh with himself.

“Curious? And have you satisfied your curiosity? Did you like what you found down there, little girl?” Hermione took a sip of the pumpkin juice, hoping that it would hide her face. Oh yes, what she had seen down there had definitely satisfied her curiosity. She had seen so much inside those dark tunnels and yet there was so much more that she didn’t see. She wished to go down there and learn more. Mostly, it was because she wanted to learn to protect herself from these weapons but another part of her, a part she didn’t want to acknowledge, simply wanted to see and to know the darker side of magic. She wanted to understand how it worked. Hermione shivered. Her extreme curiosity scared even her sometimes.

“What did you think of our newest weapon? The flesh eating ladybugs are quite a nice invention.”

“It’s dark magic. It’s dangerous and forbidden and I definitely did not like it.” Hermione lifted her chin haughtily and stared at him.

“Oh really? So there was no part of you that wanted to watch? Wasn’t there a small part of you that couldn’t look away as the flesh was slowly being eaten.” Hermione gulped but didn’t answer. He was getting too close to the truth. Hermione opted to change the subject instead. It was her turn to ask questions, after all.

“Why are you doing this, Mr. Malfoy? Why are you trying to save me?”

“Because Severus asked me to. I can never deny him anything.” Hermione was puzzled by the genuine smile that crossed his face when he talked about the professor. There was brotherly affection in his tone. Maybe they truly were genuine friends. Considering Malfoy’s dark reputation, that was not a good thing.

“But you work for the dark side? Why are you helping me, a muggleborn?”

“That is the problem with you Gryffindors. You are too single minded. For you, there is only two choices, light and dark.”

“What other choice is there?”

“Why there is everything in between! Lie and truth. Dark and Light. Death Eaters and the Order of the Phoenix. Why do you assume that one has to always pick a side? Life is short. Why not have a taste of both?” Malfoy was still watching her, examining her reaction to her words. How was she supposed to react? That was the most idiotic thing she had ever heard. How can someone be a Death Eater and work for the light at the same time. It did not make sense. The reasoning was entirely childish and immoral.

“One cannot chose light and darkness at the same time. Everyone must pick a side.” She stated somewhat coldly. This man’s words were utterly ridiculous.

“Oh, I see the misunderstanding. Of course, one cannot choose both at the same time. What I meant is that some people like the prestigious Malfoy family like to hover in the neutral zone. At times, we like to dabble in the light but when we see the chance of a profit, we slip into the dark one.”

“So your saying that you join whichever side gives you the most profit.”

“Exactly.” Mr. Malfoy nodded smugly, like a professor who has just won an argument. “The light or the dark. It doesn’t much matter as long as I get what I want.”

“So basically, you’re a hired assassin.” Hermione voice was dripping with open contempt. What kind of a man lived like that? He cared for nothing but money and power. He didn’t care about the people getting hurt, he didn’t care about the families that were destroyed. All he cared about was getting what he wanted. How can anyone be that superficial? Did this man have no conscience, no sense of right and wrong? To her surprise, Malfoy threw his head back and laughed.

“That’s aristocratic hired assassin to you, little Miss Perfect.”

“That idea is simply vile.” Hermione stated, sneering at the man sitting in front of her. But her angry words fell on deaf ears, he continued to smile at her, amused by her angry reaction.

“Of course I’m vile. That is what Malfoys are for, after all.” Hermione opened her mouth to tell him exactly what she thought about his ideals but the sound of heavy footsteps distracted her. Someone was running towards them, every step filled with urgency. Hermione snapped her head around and stared at the door, wondering who that could be. It couldn’t be Professor Snape, his footsteps were much quieter. Then who was it? Another death eater maybe? Someone who could be there to hurt her. Hermione heard an angry voice barking orders. It was a stern female voice.

“Ah, I believe my wife has returned home.” Out of the corner of her eye, Hermione saw Mr. Malfoy stand up and slowly walk towards the door. Right at that moment, the double doors burst open, the oak panels hitting the wall so hard, a silver vine fluttered to the floor.

And there, standing on the threshold, framed by the golden mermaids, was the most beautiful woman Hermione had ever seen. Mrs. Malfoy looked like a snow queen with her pale skin and regal pose. Her face, unmarred by any imperfections, was set in a stern expression, her mouth a grim line and her chin lifted high into the air, defying the world around her. She was dressed in a long black gown that trailed all the way to the floor. Black raven feathers decorated the hemline and the sleeves. The dress was low cut, leaving her long pale neck completely bare. A single ruby sat on her neck, heaving up and down as she breathed heavily, exhausted from running. Her blond hair was pinned into a tight bun high up on her head but wavy strands were left to fall from the side of her face, dropping onto her shoulders.

“Where is she?” Mrs. Malfoy demanded. Her voice was loud, invading the entire room. She spoke with the sternness of one who was accustomed to being obeyed. She had not seen Hermione who was peeking at her from behind the high backed couch. All she saw was her husband, rushing up to her with a big smile on his face.

“So, I see that you have heard the news, my love.” He beamed at her, taking her hand in his but with a jerk of her hand, Mrs. Malfoy impatiently waved him away.

“Take me to her.” She commanding, staring pointedly at her husband. Hermione wondered who she was talking about. Who was she in such a hurry to see? Hermione got the unpleasant feeling that Mrs. Malfoy was asking after her. Maybe she has found out that a muggleborn is in her house and she was angry. Maybe she thought that her high and mighty house should not be touched by people like Hermione. Well, it was her husband’s fault that Hermione was here at all. If she was given a choice, she would be far away from here.

“Why she is right here, my love.” And sure enough Malfoy lifted up his walking stick and pointed in her direction with its snake tip. Mrs. Malfoy slowly turned around and their eyes met. Her black eyes opened wide, staring at Hermione in complete shock. A dead silence had fallen over the room. Mrs. Malfoy’s chest rose and fell quickly as she became more and more agitated. She reached out and clutched her husband’s hand, her eyes not leaving Hermione’s. Mr. Malfoy’s fingers turned blue from her fierce grip and he winced slightly but he didn’t take his hand away. He gazed at his wife with alternating expressions of fear and joy.

“Lucius.” She hissed, still watching Hermione.

“Yes, my dear.” Mr. Malfoy whispered back.

“Is it her? Is it really her?”

“There is no doubt about it whatsoever. This is her.” He replied. What was going on? Why were the Malfoys so interested in her? They were acting weird. Mrs. Malfoy was watching Hermione as if she were some kind of weird creature that had emerged out of a fairytale. Why has she suddenly turned pale and agitated? Surely, this extreme reaction couldn’t just be because she didn’t want a muggleborn in her house. Something else was going on here, something Hermione couldn’t understand.

“But, my dear, I don’t think it’s wise to…” Mr. Malfoy started but his wife quickly interrupted him.

“Nonsense, Lucius. I have been cautious for too long.” She hissed irritably. Mrs. Malfoy walked over to Hermione and gracefully sank down onto the couch, only a few paces away from her. She sat so close to her that their knees nearly touched. Hermione immediately felt uncomfortable. She tried to shift away slowly without attracting any attention. If Hermione thought that Mr. Malfoy’s stare was uncomfortable, his wife’s stare was a ten times worse. Her dilated eyes were fixed on her face as if trying to commit every inch of her skin to memory. She was gazing at her with such an intensity, her eyes seemed to burn.

“Hermione Granger, we meet at last.” Mrs. Malfoy’s mouth opened into a thin smile. Up close, she was even more intimidatingly beautiful. Her skin was stretched smoothly over a perfect oval face, free of any imperfections. But there was something threatening about her. She looked like a sculpture with an ice heart, ready to rip apart anyone who dared to disagree with her.

“Welcome to Malfoy Manor. My name is Narcissa.” She extended a hand towards her. Five long pointed nails stared at Hermione like the claws of a predatory animal. With a very confused frown, Hermione shook her hand. Her skin was smooth and cold like the scales of a fish.

“I trust that Lucius has treated you well.” Hermione nodded, wishing that the woman would sit a little bit further away.

“You know, I’ve heard a lot about you,” said Mrs. Malfoy. “You’re the best student Hogwarts has seen for a very long time.” Hermione’s eyebrows rose to her hairline. A compliment from a Malfoy? That, she most certainly didn’t except. This situation was getting more and more bizarre by the minute. Still, she couldn’t help flushing at the heavy compliment.

“I do get decent grades.”

“Better than decent from what I’ve heard from Severus and Professor Sprout.” Hermione shouldn’t feel flattered by compliments given by a potentially dangerous person but the truth is, she did.

“Professor Snape talks about me?”

“All the time. Severus is a true potions genius and working with incompetent students annoys him terribly. Apparently, you are one of the few he enjoys teaching.” Hermione told herself firmly not to feel too flattered by her words. They are most likely nothing but lies, a way to make Hermione put her guard down.

“I always did want to get to know you better. You are such a special girl.” Okay. She definitely wants something. Why else would she flatter her like this? Maybe she thinks she can charm information out of Hermione or turn her into an ally. Well, whatever the reason, it won’t work. Hermione has to be careful what she says to these people.

“Hopefully, after tonight’s dinner we’ll know a lot more about you.” Mrs. Malfoy continued, oblivious to Hermione’s discomfort and mistrust.

“You’re having dinner prepared? That is very generous of you, Mrs. Malfoy…”

“Call me Narcissa.”

“Er… Okay.” Hermione felt like she had been sucked into a hole and ended up in a different dimension. Everything was simply so illogical. “I really have to leave now. My friends will be worried so I’m sorry but I can’t stay for dinner. I’m going home as soon as Professor Snape gets here.” She made to stand up but a cold hand closed over her arm, holding her there with a vicelike grip.

“No. You are staying for dinner.” Her tone of voice was final, not allowing for any more arguments. “If you have no preference, we’ll simply stick to our normal Friday night schedule.”

“But really I…”

“I shall have the appetizers and drinks brought in immediately.” No matter how much she protested Hermione couldn’t get a word in. The grip on her hand remained, firmly restraining her in place. And so it was that Hermione found herself being dragged to the dining room and served dish after dish of rich food. Under Mrs. Malfoy’s watchful eye she ate until she was full to bursting and during all this time, Mrs. Malfoy never stopped asking her questions.

At first, Hermione suspected that this was a way to loosen her up, to gain her trust so that she might let something important slip but the afternoon wore on and Mrs. Malfoy kept asking her about her life. Nothing about Harry or about the Order or even about Hogwarts. All she wanted to know was about her. What was Hermione’s favorite color? What was her best subject in school? What were her parents like? Was she happy growing up in muggle London? And so it was that in between sips of butterbeer and bites of shrimp, Hermione found herself mapping out every detail of her life while the Malfoys sat on either side of her, listening with rapt attention as if every word out of her lips was a treasure that has been yearned for. Not once during the three hour dinner did they stop looking at her, gauging her reactions, observing every little movement, their shining eyes hungry for more.

------ SS ------

A massive set of double doors towered over him. They were made of solid gold and they were flanked by two goblin sculptures that stared at Severus, their eyes made of sparkling rubies. On the door, elegant black letters wrote out the words ‘Relics of the past.’

Unknown to the Malfoys, Severus had slipped into their home. That wasn’t hard to do considering the fact that he knew their floo password. He had taken endless flights of stairs until he arrived outside the highest room in the west wing. It was the most ridiculously lavish room in the entire house and that was saying something. The Malfoys always felt the need to adorn everything he owned with rubies and diamonds, a highly impractical method but then again, the Malfoys were an impractical pair.

This room is where Lucius kept his extensive collection of important historical artifacts. Some items were as harmless as cloaks and suit of arms worn by famous witches and wizards. Merlin’s own cloak was displayed within these doors. But there were others items, things that could be dangerous and powerful: dark arts relics and lethal potions. Normally, such items would be illegal and anyone stupid enough to display them would be locked up in Azkaban but these particular items were different. They were considered antic relics and therefore, they were perfectly legal.

When Severus had heard that a powerful and complex potion had blinded Harry he had immediately suspected the Malfoys. Dumbledore was right. No other potions master in England could’ve brewed such a complex potion and, being illegal, it couldn’t be imported from oversees. But what if this potion was considered an antic. Then it was possible to safely import it from anywhere around the world. Of course, antics were ridiculously expensive and only a handful of people could afford them. This made the Malfoys prime suspects.

Despite Severus’s annoyance that Miss Granger had recklessly put herself in danger, he had to admit that she was the perfect distraction. She would keep the Malfoys busy for a long time leaving him free to search their home. Severus sighed dejectedly. He didn’t know what to do if he found prove that the Malfoys had blinded Harry. He couldn’t just hand them over to Dumbledore. Maybe if he could just reason with them, come to some sort of deal. Severus just had to hope for the best.

Severus pushed lightly on the double doors and they automatically opened to reveal the Malfoy’s famous collection. Rows and rows of marble shelves sparkled under the light of enormous chandeliers. Transparent crystal boxes of different sizes and shapes stood on every shelf and they each contained a different item. Some enclosed cloaks and daggers, others held wands, potions, cauldrons and strange items Severus couldn’t recognize. Each box had a golden label sitting on top showing their names and their historical significance.

Severus stared dejectedly at the room in front of him. It was so long that the end disappeared out of sight. It would take hours to search through this entire room. To make matters worse, this collection was not divided by subject matter, but by date. So the potions were not stored together, they were strewn about the room in between strange boxes and weapons. The plank closest to Severus read 5000 B.C. and the corridor extended until it reached the 21st century. This might take him all day and even then, it might not be enough time to find out the truth. Just fantastic! Who on earth’s name would organize items by date? How can anyone find what they what if all they have in front of them is a bunch of dates. This is just the sort of impractical thing Lucius would do.

Shaking his head, Severus stepped into the room. Immediately the age line drawn across the entrance glowed a bright green. Lucius said it was there to keep children from accessing potentially dangerous items but really, it was only drawn to keep Draco away. That boy had an obsession with this room. As long as Severus could remember Draco had tried and failed to get in. Severus smiled as he remembered how angry little Draco had been when his father told him sternly that under no circumstances was he allowed in. That little one had quite a temper when he didn’t get what he want. Severus walked up to the nearest shelf and, spotting a potion, began his long and tedious search.

Three hours and a hundred curses later, Severus was standing under a sign that read 19th century. And there, sitting on a low shelf, was the potion Severus had been searching for all along. Goroth’s Doom, named after the wizard who invented it. According to the sign, he was once considered the best potions master in the world. Everybody knew him and revered him for his great accomplishments and his unmatched talent. But one day, Goroth took on an apprentice. A little boy coming from a lowly family. He was very talented and, at first, his master was delighted at how quickly he learned the secrets of the trade. But then, the young apprentice began to make great potions, ones that were better than his master’s. Goroth, driven by jealousy and fear of losing his place as the best, invented a blindness potion. He slipped it into his apprentice’s drink and blinded him, thinking that without his sight, he would never again be able to create potions. But his cruelty was his doom. Without his sight, his apprentice’s other senses became even sharper. With smell and touch he made potions more powerful than any that had ever been invented. He cured hundreds of deceases and soon he became famous in all the land. Goroth’s name was soon forgotten, overshadowed by his blind apprentice.

And there it lay, that very potion resting contentedly inside a minuscule glass box. It was a plain inky black liquid but within it, a bright red streak swirled around. It looked like a little creature trapped in a black pool desperately searching for a way out. Severus stared at it, impressed despite himself. He had heard of Goroth’s Doom. It was a famous legend in the history of potions. Why would anyone waste such an artifact to blind an eleven year old boy? Would Lucius, who fawned over his precious collection, do such a thing?

And yet, it must be what happened. Severus could see that the potion vial was half empty. The stopper was lopsided as if someone had hastily jammed it back onto the vial. On the transparent box there were cloudy stains like the scattering of finger prints. Yes, this potion has been used recently. Maybe Lucius had thought that using this potion to blind the Boy-Who-Lived was oddly poetic, the mixing of two legendary figures.

Reluctantly, Severus opened the box. His fingers were sweaty with nerves as he carefully extracted the little bottle, the relic of a great legend. There was a dull pop as he took out the stopper. Instantly, the red streak inside the liquid swum to the surface as if expecting to be freed. Severus took out a glass pipette and extracted a small sample, enough to let him analyze its contents. With this, Severus could create the antidote. He could restore Harry’s eyesight. Of course, his troubles were not over. He still didn’t know what to tell Dumbledore. He couldn’t hand in the Malfoys and, antidote or not, Severus still couldn’t clear his name but right now, that didn’t matter. He had done it. He had found the potion. He could cure his ward. Severus couldn’t wait to get home and see Harry’s face when he told him the good news.

------ HP ------

Damn it. He hated being blind. When the hell was he getting his sight back? He can’t find anything! He has searched all over the place for the Hogwarts: a History. It had been a present from Hermione and it had a read aloud charm on it. Yes, there is no book more boring than Hogwarts: a History but Harry was desperate. He needed something to do. He was tired of waiting around with nothing but his worry for company. Sometimes images flashed through his head, images of Snape being captured by Dumbledore. At other times, it was Hermione he saw standing terrified in the middle of a ring of death eaters. Ah! In all his life Harry had never felt this powerless. When there was danger Harry was always jumping ahead, right in the middle of it. He wasn’t used to waiting around, hoping that nothing would happen to the people he cared about the most.

There it is. His fist closed around a thick spine. It was sitting at the very bottom of his trunk, hidden under layers of old socks and broken quills. He tugged at it but it wouldn’t budge. It was too deeply buried. It has been there for months, ever since Hermione had given it to him last Christmas. Harry gave it a heavy tug and it came loose suddenly, sending Harry sprawling onto his back.

“You’re as graceful as a monkey, Potter.” Harry spun around so suddenly, his neck creaked but of course, he didn’t see anything. He didn’t need to see to recognize that infuriating voice. It was Draco Malfoy, the annoying, selfish, irritating prat. What was he doing here in the middle of his room, at Snape’s Manor? How long had been standing there, watching Harry? It scared him, how close Malfoy had gotten. His voice came from only a few feet away. Harry quickly scampered to his feet and glared at Malfoy’s general direction. He was the last person on earth Harry was expecting to see right now. Just when Harry thought things couldn’t get any more stressful this idiot walks in. Just fantastic.

“What do you want, Malfoy?” Harry didn’t like this, being in a room with Malfoy while he was blind and vulnerable. He had his wand but what use will that be? He couldn’t see the target. If Malfoy attacks, Harry will be nothing but a sitting duck. Harry closed his eyes and tried to concentrate. He tried to isolate where the voice was coming from. He pictured the room in his mind. The dull off-white walls. The polished stone floor. The simple wooden desk and chair in one corner and the tall oak cupboard in the other. Judging by his voice, Malfoy must be somewhere near the oak cupboard. Sure enough, Harry heard the faint creak of wood as Malfoy leaned against it.

“Now, now, Potter, is that any way to greet someone?” Malfoy’s cold voice drawled lazily. “Didn’t your parents teach you any manners?” Harry clenched his fists tightly. He had forgotten just how irritating this spoiled brat could be.

“Oh right, you don’t have any, do you, Potter?” Harry didn’t need his sight to see the self-satisfied smirk on Malfoy’s face. Harry clamped his mouth shut so hard his teeth clicked together. Under normal circumstances he would’ve yelled at Malfoy and maybe even gotten in a punch or two but not now. If Malfoy got angry and started hexing him, Harry couldn’t fight back. No, this was not the time to start a fight.

“What are you doing here, Malfoy?” Harry meant his words to sound neutral but even he could hear the barely suppressed anger in his tone.

“I could ask you the same question, Potter. Last time I checked this isn’t your house.” There was the tap of feet on the floor as Malfoy moved towards him. Harry slipped his hand into his pocket and gripped the handle of his wand. If he was attacked, he sure as hell wouldn’t go down without a fight. But he shouldn’t have worried. The springs of the bed creaked as Malfoy flopped down onto it. The prat was making himself right at home, strutting into the room and using his own bed. He seems to have forgotten that this was Harry’s room and he was anything but welcome.

“I’m living with Snape now, Malfoy. You know that. Now, if you don’t mind, get out of my room.” Malfoy ignored him completely. There was a crunch as he bit into an apple. He must’ve taken the one sitting on Harry’s desk, the one he had been planning to eat while peacefully listening to Hogwarts: a History.

“What I don’t understand is why. Why are you living with my Head of House instead of your relatives? Did they get tired of a useless lump taking up the extra space?” Do not get angry. Do not get angry. It cannot end well.

“I just needed a change of air.” Harry stated through clenched teeth. He took a deep breath and sat down on his desk chair. There was a dull thud as he hit his elbow on the edge. A jolt of pain shot up through his hand. Harry groaned and clutched his elbow tightly as if trying to stop the pain from flowing.

“Really, Potter? You were so desperate for a change of air that you came to live with a man who hates your guts? That’s believable.” Malfoy’s words were muffled as he continued to chew on the apple. It continued to crunch under his teeth. Harry was grateful for the continued sound. At least it let him know where Malfoy was, on his bed, eating his apple.

“For your information, Malfoy, he doesn’t hate me anymore.” Harry tried to ignore Malfoy’s derisive snort. “And you didn’t answer my question, what the hell are you doing here, in Snape’s house?”

“I have every right to be here, Potter. In fact, I have more right to be here than you do. I’m Professor Snape’s godson.”

“What?” Harry gaped stupidly.

“You heard me, Potter. I’m his godson. I come here all the time. In fact, I even have a key to the house. I can come in and out every time I feel like it.” Harry blinked. He didn’t know what to say to that. So that was why Snape favored Malfoy all the time. They were practically family. It made perfect sense but that didn’t mean Harry had to like it. Summer was meant to be a time free from Malfoy’s immature taunts but how was that supposed to happen, when he can drop in anytime he wants? Harry felt the familiar churning of his stomach. He could feel the stab of jealousy. He knew the feeling only too well. For years, Harry had felt it, watching his cousin get all the attention while he sulked in a corner, completely forgotten. Was that going to happen again? Was Snape going to ignore him while Malfoy was here?

“You might have a key to the house, Malfoy, but that doesn’t give you the right to walk into my room. Now, if you don’t mind I have things to do.” The springs of his bed creaked again. For one hopeful moment Harry thought that Malfoy really was going to leave but no. He only turned on his side so that he could get a better view of Harry.

“You know something, Potter. This used to be my room.” Malfoy drawled in his usual cold voice. “I thought I’d come by and see how my old room is looking.” Harry’s hands quivered at his side. No, he had not known that. So Malfoy had slept in this bed and worked on this desk. Harry had been given Malfoy’s room just like at the Dursleys. What did that matter? Nothing at all. Harry most certainly did not mind it. This was his room now. Snape had given it to him and the spoiled brat had no right to it.

“I see that it’s as dull and boring as always. It’s a good thing that I no longer sleep here.” Malfoy continued.

“And why is that? Did you do something horrible and get kicked out?” Malfoy snorted with amusement. There was a soft click, as if something heavy and metallic was being lifted off his nightstand. It was probably one of Harry’s Quidditch figurines. Damn it! Why did Malfoy have to touch his stuff? He’ll probably break them out of pure spite.

“Kicked out? Me? Don’t be ridiculous, Potter.” Harry’s figurine whisked through the air. Harry winced, thinking that it would fall to the ground and get shattered into a million pieces but no, there was a soft thump as it landed in Malfoy’s hand. “Uncle Severus would never kick me out of anything. He always gives me what I want.” Uncle Severus? Malfoy calls him Uncle Severus? That’s ridiculous and it doesn’t even make any sense. Snape was not his uncle. He might be his godfather but they were not blood related.

“Then why did he give your bedroom to me, Malfoy?”

“Because I didn’t want it anymore, Potter. This had been my room when I was a kid but a few years ago, I moved to the West Wing. Most of the best rooms are there. Nothing as grand as the rooms at my place, of course, but my new room is definitely better than this dump.” Malfoy is being an idiot. He is just trying to provoke Harry. He is doing what he always did, playing with his mind. Well, Harry won’t let him this time. This room was perfectly fine for him. So what if it wasn’t the best room in the house? What if it wasn’t good enough for high and mighty Draco Malfoy. This was the room that his guardian had given him and he liked it just fine.

“Why do you think he gave you this room, Potter? I mean, as his ward, shouldn’t you be given one of the best ones in the house? Oh, I forgot, he doesn’t like you, does he?”

“Shut up, Malfoy!” Harry snapped. Oh, if only he had his sight back, he could’ve hexed Malfoy into oblivion. How dare he come in here and start putting doubts into Harry’s mind. Snape and he were doing fine. In fact, they were doing better than fine. Snape had shared a part of his past with Harry. They have become closer than ever before and Malfoy would not be the one to ruin it.

“The best part of my new room is that it’s only a few doors away from Uncle Severus’s. That way, it’s much easier to find him.” Snape’s room was in a different wing of the mansion? Harry did not know that. In fact, he didn’t even know which part of the house he was currently in. He had never had a proper tour and he had no idea how to find Snape if he needed the man. Harry tried to not let this bother him. It didn’t mean anything. Snape had always been there when Harry needed him.

“Since you seem to love your new room so much, Malfoy, why don’t you go there and stop bothering me!” Harry snapped.

“Jeez, Potter, mind your temper You wouldn’t want Uncle Severus to make you scrub cauldrons all summer.”

“You’re the one who should be careful, Malfoy. Snape likes me now. You won’t get away with being a complete git like you were in school.” Harry stated with more confidence than he felt. Was that really true? Would Snape take his side over his godson’s? Malfoy snorted again. Harry could imagine the malevolent glimmer in his eyes as he watched Harry, trying to aim his sharp words straight into his mind.

“You think that after a few weeks, Uncle Severus would choose you over me? You’re delusional, Potter. Even if I wasn’t his godson, he’d still prefer me to you. I’m excellent at Potions and I’m in his house. Why the hell would he prefer someone like you?” Harry’s temper rose with every word. Malfoy was good at making people feel terrible. He knew how to aim close to the mark. Malfoy was just like his father, the death eater. He enjoyed making others suffer. Surely, Snape won’t care for someone like that, someone spiteful and spoiled, someone without a conscience.

“Because I understand him better than you do, Malfoy. I bet I know more about him than you do.”

“Really?” Harry could hear the laughter in Malfoy’s voice. Harry was nothing but a joke to him. Someone who he would enjoy crushing. The bastard. Malfoy sat up in bed. He must be watching Harry with those ice cold eyes, yearning to see the hurt in his face. “Let’s test that theory, shall we? Who’s Uncle Severus’s best friend?” Harry flushed in embarrassment. Obviously, he had no idea. He didn’t even know if Snape had any close friends. Nobody came to visit the manor but then again, if his friends were death eaters, that wasn’t very likely to happen. Harry took a wild guess.

“Your father.” He stated.

“Wrong, Potter. It’s my mother.” Harry eyebrows rose into his hairline. That, he hadn’t expected.

“Well, if you don’t know that then maybe you’ll know this. What does Professor Snape fear?” Harry was feeling worse and worse by the minute. He hated to admit it, but Malfoy was right. There’s so much he didn’t know about Snape.

“You don’t know that either? And you think you know him better than I do? Pathetic.” Harry hands clenched and unclenched on his desk. If he threw a punch into the air, what’s the chance that it would hit Malfoy’s face? Maybe if he was lucky he could knock out a few teeth and that ridiculous smirk will disappear. Or maybe he could break his nose and his stupid pointed chin.

“I might not know about silly things like that, Malfoy, but I know about his past. I know that he and I have something in common: being raised by horrid people. I understand what he feels more than you do.” There was a heartbeat of silence. Malfoy didn’t utter a single word. Finally, Harry has shocked him speechless. He probably had no idea what Harry was talking about. Snape had not shared his past with a git like him. No, Harry was the one that he told his past to. Harry, his ward, not Malfoy.

“What? You don’t have anything to say to that? I bet you didn’t even know that he had problems with his parents.”

“Of course I knew that, Potter!” Malfoy snapped irritably. His words had lost their casual confidence. He was being defensive. Harry smiled. Malfoy was not the only one who knew how to aim right.

“Oh really? Then why don’t you tell me why he didn’t get along with his parents?” Oh this was delightful. Malfoy did not know how to respond. Clearly he did not know the truth. Who’s the favorite now, Malfoy?

“That’s what I thought. You have no idea, do you? Well, I’m not going to tell you anything. Clearly he doesn’t trust you enough to tell you about his past.” There was a thud of shoes hitting the floor. Malfoy had hopped down from the bed and started walking. He was coming towards Harry. Crap. So much for keeping his temper and not angering Malfoy. Harry tensed immediately. He stood up, his hand closing over the wand in his pocket. Where was he? Was he standing right in front of him, close enough to throw a punch? Had be drawn out his wand and even now, was it pointed at his chest, a dark spell on the tip of his tongue. First years were not supposed to know spells aggressive enough to truly hurt someone but maybe his father had taught him a few death eater tricks. All sounds in the room had suddenly seized. Harry realized that he had no idea where Malfoy was. The attack could come from any side and he couldn’t even run away. This was worse than when Dudley caught him without his glasses.

“You’re wrong, Potter.” The voice was coming from somewhere slightly to his left. Harry turned in that direction. To his surprise, Malfoy’s tone was not angry. No, he sounded more like a boy who was just about to win a fight. There was victory in his cold cruel voice. Somehow Harry knew that whatever was going to happen now, he wouldn’t like one bit. “Uncle Severus trusts me, Potter. He trusts me much more than you. If we both told him something different, who do you think he’ll believe? Me, Potter. The only one whose words he will listen to is me.” Harry should let it go. It’ll be safer to let it go but he couldn’t. He had to get in the last word. He had to show Malfoy that he was not the second best. He was Professor Snape’s ward and nothing will change that.

“You’re wrong. He knows what you are, a liar and a bastard. He knows that nothing that comes out of your mouth is true. The only reason that Snape tolerates you is because of your parents. He will never trust someone like you.”

“Nice argument, Potter, but you’re wrong. I can prove it.” Malfoy was moving again. Harry could hear his shoes tapping the ground. He was circling Harry like a bird of prey, ready to dive in for the kill. Well, Harry was no prey. He was not that easy to break. This was not the school year anymore. Snape will not blindly favor Malfoy again. He cares for Harry and he will listen to his words. “How do you like being blind, Potter? Do you like groping around the room, stumbling over your own feet? How do you like knowing that you’re helpless in front of me? I could hex you and you couldn’t do a thing.” Maybe this was it. Maybe this was Malfoy’s plan. He was going to hex Harry and expect Snape to take his side. Well, he was the one who was delusional. That was not going to happen. If he hexed Harry, Snape will take his side. He just knew it.

“Go on then, Malfoy. Hex me and let’s see how Snape will react.” Harry challenged.

“Oh but I already did. I was the one who blinded you, Potter. I slipped a dark potion into your breakfast ages ago when you were busy eating at the Gryffindor table. And now here you are, blind and helpless.” Harry froze in place. The information took a while to sink in. Malfoy. It was Malfoy. What the hell? This git was the one who poisoned him? The bloody bastard. Harry was shaking with fury. This was all his fault. Snape being imprisoned by Dumbledore. Him falling out with Ron. Hermione running off to a potentially lethal death eater meeting. Everything was Malfoy’s fault! Every day, Harry had to live in darkness with nothing but the cruel memories playing over and over again in his mind. Every morning, he woke up to utter blackness and he felt panic and fear rush at him. He was helpless and vulnerable. And it was all Malfoy’s fault! He was not just a jerk, he was pure evil.

“And you know what the best part is? Even if you tell Uncle Severus the truth, he won’t believe you. If you accuse me of poisoning you, it is you who’ll get in trouble. I’ll deny doing anything so horrible and he will believe me.” That was a lie. Snape will take Harry’s side. He was doing everything to find out who poisoned Harry. He will never let Malfoy get away with this.

“My godfather will always believe me, Potter. He will choose me over you. Just because he was forced to take you in doesn’t mean that you will ever replace me, Potter.” Harry reached behind him. His fingers closed around something cold and slippery. Without pausing to think, he threw it as hard as he could in Malfoy’s direction. There was a dull thump as his target hit the mark. Then, there was a loud crack and the glass hit the floor, pieces shattering everywhere. Malfoy screamed. Harry was going to be attacked now but he was ready. Blind or not, he was going to punch the living daylights out of this evil bastard.

Dimly, Harry heard the sound of footsteps rushing towards them. In a matter of seconds, his bedroom door burst open and someone stormed into the room. It must be Snape. He was here, finally. He will yell at Malfoy and get the antidote for Harry. He will be cured!

“Uncle Severus!” Malfoy moaned pathetically. The stupid git. He probably just had a scratch and he was whimpering to get attention.

“Draco! What…” Harry opened his mouth to tell his guardian everything but the note of fear and panic in Snape’s voice made the words die in his throat.

“Is that blood, Draco?” Snape yelled, rushing up to his godson.

“Ah! Oh Uncle, my leg, my leg. It hurts!” Malfoy whimpered.

“Its alright, Draco. I’ll take care of this. Come here and sit on the bed.” Malfoy moaned and sniveled as he was led to the bed. Snape whipped out his wand and a second later he was murmuring incantations under his breathe. Occasionally, he would stop and comfort Malfoy who was still whimpering pathetically. Harry just sat there, completely forgotten. For a second, as he listened to Malfoy’s cries. Harry felt a stab of guilt at attacking him and getting him injured but then he remembered what Malfoy had done to him. He deserved much worse than this. Harry had given Malfoy a small cut but Malfoy had taken away his sight. He was the criminal here. Besides, Malfoy was not in pain. He was just pretending to get Snape’s sympathy and turn him against Harry. Well, it won’t work. When Snape finds out the truth, Malfoy will be in a heap of trouble. After a few minutes, Snape finished taking care of Malfoy’s injuries. He had summoned a lotion and applied it on his leg before carefully bandaging it with Elladen, a magical plant with cauterizing properties. It was only then that he noticed Harry sitting quietly in his chair, waiting to be heard.

“What has been going on in here, Potter?” His deep baritone voice was filled with anger. Harry gulped, trying not to look too guilty. He was not the bad person here.

“Well, sir, Malfoy and I were arguing and then…”

“He threw a vase at me!” Malfoy interrupted him angrily. Harry privately wished he had another vase so he could cut the other leg too.

“Is this true, Mr. Potter? Did you attack Draco with a vase causing deep gashes on his leg?” Harry couldn’t help but notice the disparity. He was Mr. Potter and Malfoy was Draco. That wasn’t fair and wasn’t exactly promising either. What if Malfoy was right? What if Snape did believe him over Harry? No. No. Snape won’t be that unfair, not anymore.

“Yes, I did but it was his fault!” Harry tried to defend himself. He voice was loud and indignant.

“Oh really? So according to you it was Draco’s own fault that you, being a typical Gryffindor, have no control over your temper?”

“No, that’s not what happened. He…” Harry began but Snape ignored his words.

“You have attacked him, unprovoked and without justifiable cause.”

“I will tell you why I attacked him if you just listen!” Harry barked. He was standing up now, his fists balled at his sides.

“Very well, Mr. Potter, proceed with your explanation.”

“He poisoned me, Professor! Malfoy was the one who blinded me. Okay, I did throw a vase at him but he did something so much worse. I’m blind because of him, sir. You don’t need to go looking for the person who cursed me because I found him. Its him, its Malfoy! He poisoned me and then came here to gloat.”

“What the hell are you talking about, Potter?” Malfoy’s voice was calm and collected. He didn’t sound angry at all, only mildly confused. Oh he was good, a born liar.

“You know perfectly well what I’m talking about Malfoy!”

“Merlin, Potter, you’ve finally gone barking mad. Don’t get me wrong. I’m thrilled that you’re blind. The person who did it should receive a gift basket but it definitely wasn’t me. I’m a first year remember? I don’t know any dark magic or dark potions.” If Snape wasn’t standing there, Harry would’ve thrown himself at Malfoy, punching every inch of skin he could find. It was incredible how smoothly this idiot lied.

“You’re going to pay for this, Malfoy. You’re going to pay for what you did to me!”

“That is quite enough, Potter!” Snape hissed angrily. “You have done too much all ready.”

“But… but…” Harry stuttered. He couldn’t believe his ears. Snape didn’t believe him. He choose to believe Malfoy, the lying sadistic jerk. How is that even possible? Snape cared for him. He should be on Harry’s side. He should be yelling at Malfoy, not him! Everything was wrong. This is not how it was supposed to be. Harry could almost picture Malfoy sitting there triumphantly, laughing at his anger and confusion.

“He poisoned me, professor. He’s a criminal.”

“It’s astonishing the lengths you go to attack Draco. He is many things but he is not a bad person. Draco would never do such a thing so I suggest you stop lying, Potter.” Harry clamped his mouth shut. He didn’t have anything else to say. Malfoy had won. Nothing had changed. Snape was going to let Malfoy hurt and attack him without lifting a finger to help him. It was Dudley and Harry hunting all over again. No matter where he was he would always be second best, overshadowed by someone who had no consciousness and once again the responsible adult in his life was sitting back and letting it happen. It was not fair. It was just not fair. Snape was his guardian. Snape cared. Why couldn’t he see that Harry was the one telling the truth? Suddenly, everything became too much. Harry stormed out of the room, not caring where he was going. Snape’s voice called after him and he ran faster, not caring if he’d trip and fall flat on his face.

-------- HP --------

“The summer morning was come, and all the summer world was bright and fresh, and brimming with life. There was a song in every heart; and if the heart was young the music issued at the lips.” Snape’s voice seemed to come from all around him. He was sitting in a large armchair in the drawing room with Malfoy at his side. Snape was reading to him. The book was Tom Saywer and Harry knew it well. A friendly teacher had once given Harry an old copy. It was old and wrinkled with pages sticking out at odd angles and yet, Harry had loved it. When he was locked up in his cupboard with nothing to do all day, he had read that book again and again. He had read it so many times that he knew it almost by heart. And yet, coming from Snape’s lips, the story was even better than Harry remembered it.

“There was a cheer in every face, and a spring in every step. The locust trees were in bloom, and the fragrance of blossoms filled the air.” Snape’s voice normally so emotionless and cold seemed to take on a new life as he read the story. He paused in all the right places, his tone tilting with the words. Harry strained his ears and listened hard. A fire crackled merrily in the hearth, a soft background to Snape’s deep voice.

“Cardiff Hill, beyond the village and above it, was green with vegetation, and it lay just far enough away to seem a Delectable Land, dreamy, reposeful, and inviting.” Harry sighed. He felt like an intruder, stealing something that did not belong to him. These words were not meant for him. They were for Malfoy, Snape’s godson, the boy who had poisoned him. Harry had not been invited. He was standing outside the door, listening to muffled words. Merlin, this was so wrong. Harry had imagined this moment before, the moment when Snape’s voice would read a story, the same way Snape’s mother had read to him all those years ago. He had imagined sitting beside Snape, sharing the same book. He had imagined falling asleep to the sound of his voice. But it was not Harry who was sitting there right now, being comforted and read to. No, it was Malfoy, the evil bastard who was getting all the attention. A loud yawn came from the room. Snape’s voice paused in the middle of a sentence.

“You ought to go to sleep, Draco. It is already long past your bedtime.” Snape’s voice was stern but his affection for his godson shone through his words. Harry had once heard someone say that a name was sweeter coming from the mouth of a loved one. As Snape said Malfoy’s name, Harry understood what that truly meant. Snape had never used that tone when saying his name. There was only anger and, at best, a vague sense of tolerance when he uttered the word ‘Potter.’ Harry hated that. He hated the fact that Malfoy came first in Snape’s eyes.

“Five more minutes, Uncle. Read until the end of this chapter.” Malfoy drawled confidently, like one who was sure of victory. Harry doubted that Snape ever denied him anything. The stupid spoiled arrogant idiot. He had parents who gave him everything, why did have to take Snape too?

“That is what you said last chapter and the chapter before that.” Was Malfoy sitting with his head on Snape’s shoulder right now? Was he smirking triumphantly, basking in Harry’s fall from grace? “In fact, I do believe that ‘five more minutes’ was always your favorite expression.” Harry wished that Snape would just send him home. It was getting late. Surely Malfoy wasn’t going to spend the night? Harry couldn’t stand the thought of sharing this house with Malfoy. If he was capable of blinding Harry what more could he do? Apart from the stab of jealousy Harry felt every time Snape talked to him, Malfoy was dangerous. He needed to be stopped.

“Uncle?” Malfoy whispered.

“What is it, Draco?”

“Can’t I stay here for the rest of the summer?” At Malfoy’s words Harry gasped so loudly he was afraid that he had betrayed his presence. No. Malfoy cannot stay here for the summer. Harry would never be able to step outside his room without fear of being hexed and cursed.

“We already discussed this, Draco. You know you have to leave for France in a week’s time.” Harry breathed a sigh of relief. Malfoy was not staying here that long. Thank God for small mercies. Maybe when this git is gone, Snape will notice Harry again. Maybe then, Harry can find some way to convince him of the truth.

“But I don’t what to go to France! I’ll have to stay with Aunt Jacintha and Uncle Holand. Nobody in the world is as dull as they are.” Malfoy whined. He sounded like a petulant little child being denied a treat.

“And yet, it is your parents wish that you should reside at their house.” There was a moment of silence. Malfoy must be in there pouting like an unattractive fish.

“I guess you’re right. I have to go whether I like it or not.”

“There is so need to sound so disheartened. I expect we’ll see each other quite often.” Snape responded. Harry was surprised to hear the fondness in his tone. He never knew Snape to display his emotions so openly.

“Yeah, I know.” Malfoy stated. He still sounded annoyed and unconvinced. Finally something was not going his way and he couldn’t stand it. Typical spoiled brat. “I can’t wait to graduate from Hogwarts, Uncle. Then, I’ll be living here full time. You won’t get rid of me that easily then!” Snape chuckled good naturedly.

“By your words, I assume that you are still considering a career in potions after graduating.”

“Oh yeah, definitely. Once I pass my N.E.W.Ts I’m going to become your apprentice and learn how to become a great potions Master like you.” Harry had enough. He didn’t want to listen to this conversion anymore. It was making him sick. He should just turn around and walk back into his room. If he goes to sleep and wakes up in the morning, Malfoy will just become a bad dream that has vanished in the night.

“It takes quite a lot of effort and hard work to become a successful potion’s master.”

“I know, Uncle, but I can definitely do it. I’m great at potions and all the other subjects required to entire the potion’s field.”

“Of course you will. You are a bright young wizard, Draco, and I have no doubt whatsoever that you shall achieve whatever you wish in life.” Yes, Malfoy was smart. His potions were always brilliant, just as good as Hermione’s. For the first time in his life, Harry wished he was like Malfoy. Would Snape consider him Malfoy’s equal if he brewed the correct potions and got Outstanding in all his assignments? Was that why Snape liked Malfoy even if he was a lying, cheating soulless idiot, because he was good at potions, something Harry would never become?

Harry should not listen. He should walk away but he can’t. He slides down the wall and sits on the floor, his knees drawn up to his chest. He listens to Snape’s words of praise and admiration, hating Malfoy more and more every minute. That git must be so happy now. He had his godfather all to himself. Not only did he blind Harry but he also turned Snape against him. That bastard will pay for this. Harry will make sure of that. Whatever the cost, Harry will make him pay.

There was a knock at the door. Finally, Snape had come but Harry didn't feel like seeing him anymore. He didn't feel like arguing with him, trying to force him to understand the truth. For the first time since becoming blind, he didn't want to anyone’s company. He wanted to stay under his blankets and nurse his anger. There was no chance of his childhood memories coming back to haunt him today. His anger had completely taken over his mind, anger at Malfoy for blinding him and at Snape for not believing him. Harry thought that they had become close. Then why did Snape suddenly pick Malfoy over him? Didn't Harry deserve to be treated as an equal for once in his life?

The knock sounded again but Harry only squeezed his eyes tighter and pulled his blanket over his head. Don't come in. If you like Malfoy so much, why don't you go and bother him. Harry damned well didn't want him here. Harry was self sufficient. He didn't depend on any grownup to come to his rescue and he certainly never wanted to be read to as if he was some kind of little kid.

"Mr. Potter." And it damned well didn't bother him that Snape didn't use his name much either. Nope. He can call Harry bloomslang skin for all he cared.

"Mr. Potter, I am fully aware that you are awake. I merely wish to talk to you." And what was there to talk about? Snape had been perfectly clear last night when he called Harry a liar. Obviously, he didn't trust him at all. Oh, why the hell can't Snape leave him alone. Harry listened for the sound of retreating footsteps but all he heard was Hedwig, softly nibbling on his owl treats. From time to time she would flutter her wings, as if trying to test their strength. The iron cage rattled under the beat of her powerful wings.

"I shall choose to interpret your silence as an invitation to enter." The door opened with a soft creak and Snape was suddenly there, standing over Harry. He could picture Snape's figure looming in front of him, dark and imposing.

"Ever heard of privacy?" Harry mumbled into his blankets. A lack of privacy was one of the biggest downsides of the wizarding world. Every locked door could be unlocked with a mumbled Alohomora. Unless one was powerful enough to know the best protection spells, privacy around here was virtually nonexistent.

"I see that you still retain your anger." Snape stated calmly, ignoring Harry's irritation and his wish to be left alone. Somehow, his calm tone pissed Harry off even more. He's trying to act as if what happened last night was no big deal. Well, it definitely was a big deal to Harry.

"And whose fault is that? You basically called me a liar!" Harry yelled, throwing his blankets off him. Startled, Hedwig gave a loud hoot and flapped his wings hurriedly.

"Well, you did accuse my godson of poisoning you." Snape's voice had an edge to it now, as if he was trying to control his voice, keep it low and even. His words were slow as if every syllable had to be filtered of the emotions that weighed them down.

"Well guess what, Snape? Your godson is an idiot!"

"Enough, Mr. Potter. I will not allow you to speak of Draco in such a way." Snape hissed. His voice had become dangerously quiet. Harry didn't really think that Snape would harm him, not anymore but he'd probably still find some way to make Harry's life miserable. With an audible snap, Harry clamped his mouth shut.

"I have not come here to discuss Draco. Your condition is what I wish to discuss."

"Why don't you go talk to Malfoy? He can tell you all about it."

"Potter!"

"No, I'm not going to just sit here and listen to you ignore the truth. Draco Malfoy poisoned me. Why can't you understand that?" There was a heartbeat of silence, even Hedwig had calmed down as if listening intently to their conversation. Harry heard Snape take a few deep breaths, attempting to calm himself down. He was obviously flustered. He couldn't stand to hear the truth about the perfect Slytherin Prince.

"Because, Potter, I have known Draco all his life. I have watched him grow up to be the boy he is today and I can state with certainty that he would never commit such a crime. He would never cripple a fellow student." Harry jawed dropped. What was Snape talking about? Was he really that blind or was this some kind of scheme to trick Harry.

"Malfoy is twisted and cruel. Surely, you know that! You've seen what he was like back in school."

"I am not as blind as you think me, Mr. Potter. I am well aware that my godson is not perfect. He is spoiled and arrogant. He takes pleasure in belittling others and he thinks entirely too much of his parents to the point of idolizing them. He cannot stand for anyone else to be better than him in anything, being of an exceedingly jealous nature."

"He really does sound charming, professor."

"However, he is capable of compassion." Harry scoffed in disbelief. The idea that Malfoy could ever think of anyone but himself was simply too ridiculous. He didn't care how many people he had to trample on as long as he got what he wanted. Typical Slytherin. As soon as the thought entered his mind, Harry flushed guiltily. Sometimes, he forgot that the man he was slowly coming to care for was also a Slytherin. He belonged to the same house as Voldemort and the Malfoys.

"Yes, Mr. Potter. You may not choose to believe me but it doesn't make it any less true. Once, when young Draco was in a park, a little girl broke her ankle. Her parents were nowhere in sight. She was a muggle and therefore, in Draco's eyes, inferior to him and yet when he saw that the girl was truly in pain, he carried her on his back. He left her with her parents, on the very doorstep of her house." Harry's eyes were as wide as saucers. Somehow, he couldn't imagine the Slytherin prince giving a piggy back ride to a little girl.

"What I am trying to say is that however much he does not like you, Draco is not capable of standing by while watching you truly suffer." Harry sighed. He didn't know how to respond to that. Snape truly did believe that Malfoy was good. How do you change such a strong opinion? How can Harry make him see that he's wrong, that the image of the kind hearted boy in his mind was not the real Draco? It was only a figment of his imagination, a person he had created in his mind because he couldn't face the real truth. Harry flopped back onto the bed. The springs creaked, making him bounce up and down. Harry rubbed his face with his hands. Even though he hated to admit it, Harry was scared. What if Snape never believed him? Then how could Snape find the cure, how could Harry get his sight back? Harry felt the left side of the bed dip forward as Snape sat gingerly on the mattress. He seemed to be waiting for something, maybe for Harry to say that he was sorry and that it was all a lie. Well, that was never going to happen.

"Professor?"

"Yes, Mr. Potter."

"Do you trust me?" A dead silence greeted his words. The very air crackled with tension as Harry waited, with baited breath, for the answer. He hated this. The fact that Snape had to pause and think. His silence felt like a betrayal of the fragile friendship they had managed to create. The answer, when it finally came, was less than satisfactory.

"In some ways I do." Snape whispered as if afraid that his words would carry too far.

"What kind of an answer is that?" Harry tried to filter his voice but he was unsuccessful. The hurt poured out of his words, a proof of his fragility.

"It is the only answer I am willing to give. Trust is never absolute, it depends on various factors. For example, I can never trust you to follow my rules. Sooner or later, you will always find a way to break them." Harry had to admit that Snape might have a point in that.

"Okay then, do you trust that I’m not a liar? Do you trust that I would never frame someone for something that they didn't do, even if I didn't like this person?" The silence again. Harry had the urge to tap his fingers on the wall just to have a sound to hold onto.

"Yes, Mr. Potter. Before today, I did not think you capable of such a deception." Well, at least that was something. "However, now I am faced with a choice. Either way I will have to go against my preconceived beliefs. Either you are capable of falsely incriminating someone or Draco is capable of crippling someone."

"It seems to me that you've made your choice last night when you branded me a liar."

"It was a natural reaction, Mr. Potter. I have known Draco much longer than you. I am inclined to believe in him first." In other words, Harry was once again the person standing in the corner, overshadowed and dismissed. He had understood that last night but hearing those words come out of Snape's mouth was even worse. It was the final confirmation. Something of his feelings must've shown on Harry's face because he suddenly felt a comforting hand on his shoulder. Harry should shrug it off and move away but instead, he just inched closer to Snape, wanting to be acknowledged. How pathetic could he get?

"I didn't lie, sir. I was not trying to get Malfoy in trouble. He really did tell me that he blinded me. He boasted about it, about how you would let him get away with anything. He's more important to you, after all. I guess he was right." Snape sighed. His hand was still on Harry's shoulder. He could feel its weight resting there, like an anchor that Harry had the sudden urge to cling to and never let go.

"Perhaps Draco merely said that to upset you and not because it had any reference to the truth. He does derive a childish pleasure from angering people." Harry knew that this was crap. Snape was just trying to find a middle ground, unwilling to let go of both his beliefs. He made up the only explanation that would let him keep the image he had of a partially good Draco. Harry should tell him that he's being an idiot. He should tell him that they both know that he's just pretending, finding a coward's way out. Instead, Harry mumbles a quick maybe and buries himself further into his pillow. He was tired of arguing with Snape, tired of fighting to be treated as an equal. He had given up, wanting things to go back to the way they were. Maybe Harry was the coward here.

"Anyway, I have some news that might take your mind off Draco and his thoughtless words." Harry didn't respond. He doubted that anything could take his mind off Malfoy right now. "I have been yearning to tell you this since last night but perhaps it is best that I waited till morning." Snape paused, probably waiting for Harry's reaction but Harry didn't say anything. The anger had turned into a tired resignation but it was still there in the pit if his stomach, refusing to move.

"Are you even listening, Mr. Potter?"

"Yeah." Harry mumbled halfheartedly.

"I have the cure." Snape's words seemed to drift past him like paper boats floating downstream. Harry blinked dimly, trying to understand what Snape was getting at. The words were too abrupt, too unrelated to what Harry was feeling.

"What?"

"Here, in my hand, I have the cure for your blindness." This time, the words did sink in, slowly like a balloon expanding with air. Harry sat up on the bed and turned his head in Snape's direction. The cure. Snape found the cure. How is that even possible? He didn't even know that Malfoy was responsible for his blindness. How could he find the cure? Was Snape trying to mess with Harry's mind?

"But... But how." He stuttered, not daring to believe that Snape's words were true and yet, hope flared up inside him. The cure. He would be healed. He would be able to see again. Is this for real?

"I brewed it last night, Mr. Potter. I found the potion vial that had been used to poison you. With it, I managed to concoct an antidote. Fortunately, even though the brewing process was complicated and required great skill to execute, not much time was required." Harry sat up and suddenly felt around with his hand. Snape, as if sensing his intentions, pressed the antidote into his fingers. Harry gripped the ice cold vial, feeling the heat seep out of his fingers. He could hear the liquid inside it sloshing around, almost alive and sentient. Dear Merlin, this is it! This is the cure! This is what he's been waiting for.

"Well, do you not have anything to say?" Snape sounded pleased with himself, as if content with Harry's dumbstruck joy.

"I... I don't know what to say. I can’t believe this is real. Is this really the cure? Will I really be able to see again?"

"Certainly, Mr. Potter, as soon as you take the potion." Harry fumbled with the vial, ready to open it and gulp down the contents but Snape snatched it away from him.

"Not so fast, Mr. Potter. First, you must understand that there will be side effects to this potion. Nothing harmful, but you may experience some strange effects while under its influence."

"As long as I can see again, I'll put up with almost anything." Harry could hardly contain his excitement. It had seemed a lifetime ago since he saw the world around him. The blue sky over his head, the pictures of his smiling parents in his photo album, Snape's masked face, his lips twitching with suppressed laughter and yes, Harry would even like to see this gloomy house again with its endless array of doors and grey wallpaper.

"Very well, then. Lie down and attempt to make yourself as comfortable as possible. It will take some time for the antidote to clear the poison in your veins."

------- HP -------

The potion was cold. At first, Harry thought that he was drinking ice water and yet, the sensation was more peculiar. As the antidote passed through his open mouth, it seemed to freeze every tissue of his body. Harry groaned as the cold turned into an acute burning sensation. He heard Snape utter a few comforting words but they seemed to come from a long distance away. With an increased sense of panic, Harry felt all his senses dim, as if the world was moving away, leaving him behind. He no longer felt the mattress holding him up. He no longer even felt the cold of the potion. He stopped hearing any sounds. He was suddenly in a vast blackness, sensing nothing. Was this what it felt like to die, slowly losing all perception of reality like a song fading to its ending? Harry tried to catch Snape’s voice, or even feel the steady movement of his lungs but he didn’t feel it. He had left his body behind.

The beginnings of terror were starting to appear. Even though he could no longer sense, he could think. Thoughts of death and pain and getting lost in this empty world were twirling inside his mind, moving faster and faster. Harry tried to sense something, anything but it was no use. It felt like hours afterwards that he saw it. A tiny pinprick of light in the far distance, like a light at the end of a tunnel. Harry focused on the light, willing it to come closer but it didn’t. Instead, the spot of light shivered and with a plop separated itself into two. One was an iridescent white while the other was a bright red. As Harry watched, mesmerized despite his fear. The spots of light multiplied faster and faster. Soon he could see pins of light all around him like fireworks spinning in the sky. They were beautiful, dancing all around him. Emerald green, bright purple, neon pink, sunny yellow and hundreds of others. Harry watched mesmerized, as the spots started to move. They were getting bigger, coming closer and closer to Harry. They were inflating like balloons. Soon the spots merged together to form bubbles of a strange mix of colors. They were getting bigger and bigger. Soon there was only one bubble coming straight at Harry. Then, just as it was about to touch him, it burst open and bright rays of light hit Harry’s eyes with such force, he yelled.

He was still yelling when he returned back to his body. Suddenly, all sensations came to him at once. He could hear Hedwig hooting worriedly in the background. He could feel the bedsheets tangled beneath him. He was no longer lying in bed but he was sitting up. Warm hands were around him and a familiar voice was telling him that it was going to be okay.

“Open your eyes, child.” Snape’s familiar voice whispered into his left ear. Slowly, Harry allowed his eyes to flutter open. At first it was too bright and he had to snap them shut. He tried again and this time, after blinking a few times, he managed to keep them open. The first thing he saw was Snape’s face, close to his. His eyebrows were drawn together and he was frowning down on Harry, concern written plainly in every feature. Harry had forgotten how pale he looked, like fresh parchment. His hair hung around his face. It had grown longer, flowing onto his shoulders. It was so nice to see him again.

Dear Merlin, Harry could see again! He could actually see. Snape did it! He found the cure! Harry opened his mouth and laughed. He felt so light and free. He had never felt so alive. He spun his head, taking in all the sights around him. The dull grey wallpaper, his trunk lying half open on the floor. Hedwig, his dear Hedwig was perched on his cage. His head was cocked to the side and his yellow eyes were wide open, observing Harry. Had his feathers always been so white, like untainted snow? Harry laughed again, feeling lightheaded. His broomstick was sitting on one corner of the room, its handle gleaming with polish. Nimbus 2000, the gold letters announced proudly. Not a single twig was out of place.

“By your reaction, I take it that your sight has been returned.” Snape asked. Harry didn’t answer. He was too busy looking, testing out his new found sight. This was not enough. He needed more. He needed to see the blue sky and the grass swaying back and forth. He needed to see flowers and leaves flapping in the wind. He wanted to see everything. Harry suddenly jumped down from the bed and snatched up his Nimbus 2000.

“Come on, Professor! We’re playing Quidditch.” Without waiting for an answer, he grabbed a confused looking Snape’s arm and ran down the stairs and out the front door.

-------- HP --------

Harry quickly gobbled up a few chocolate chip cookies. What a day! He was famished and exhausted. Two straight hours of playing Quidditch followed by a long walk to the nearest town. They had a great time! Although Snape did look a little worn out. By the end of it all, he was calling Harry all sorts of names and grumbling about overactive Gryffindor twits. Harry just couldn’t keep still. In the past week, he had spent so much time in bed. When he was blind, it was impossible to walk at a normal pace without bumping into something or tripping over trunks and carpets. But now, he’s free again. Free to jump and run and look. It’s like all the energy that had gone wasted last week has come rushing back to him.

Harry went over to his trunk and rummaged through the contents. It still seemed amazing, how he could finally see the objects inside. No more groping around in the dark. No more trying to imagine where things would be. Nope. Now he could see everything again. There was Hermione’s study planner, it’s untouched cover glossy and the pages neat. There were the Quidditch figurines he bought from Diagon Alley. They grinned up at him like old friends, waving their arms cheerfully. A miniature snitch was circling around the seeker’s head. Harry could see it flutter its minuscule wings, flying just out of the seeker’s reach. It was taunting him, daring him to come and play. Harry grinned at them all before putting them aside. He had come for a pack of playing cards. Harry was going to teach Snape how to play House Wars, a game the twins had taught him. But he had to be quick. Snape had started to grumble about potions brewing and quiet reading time. If Harry didn’t go soon, he had a feeling that Snape would vanish again, retreating back to the quiet of his potion’s lab. Harry was enjoying his company too much to let him go just yet. He’d keep Snape to himself before Malfoy comes and ruins everything again. Mercifully, Malfoy had been nowhere in sight today.

Harry bounded down the stairs two at a time. The pack of card was held tightly in one hand. The glossy cards threatened to slip out of his grip and scatter all over the floor but Harry held onto them tightly. Harry felt like dancing and laughing. He was so damn happy. Snape did it, he gave Harry his sight back. It gave him a warm fuzzy feeling to know that he was being protected by an adult for once in his life. Snape was there for him, he was the family Harry had always dreamed about.

Harry ran down the corridor, the black doors sailing past him in a blur. Snape said he would be waiting in the floo room with pumpkin juice and a plate of chocolate cakes. He was probably there right now, grumbling to himself about little brats and their need for excessive sugar. Harry chuckled to himself as he came to a halt in front of the door at the end of the corridor. It was slightly ajar, strips of pale yellow light oozing out of it. Harry could hear movement within the room, a soft rustling of a cloak and the pad of feet muffled by a thick carpet. Oh good, Snape was already here. This time Harry was determined to beat him at House Wars. It will be payback after the time Snape flattened him at Liar.

Harry put his hand on the cold wood and pushed. The door floated open silently displaying the now familiar floo room. The large fireplace was alive, soft orange flames flickering, shifting the shadows all over the room. The two armchairs sat empty in front of the fireplace and between them, there was an ornate black stool. A silver plate was sitting there patiently. It was filled to the brim with dark brown and soft yellow cakes. They were coated with chocolate and filled with jam.

Harry frowned, looking at the empty chairs. Where was Snape? Harry looked around the room and spotted a figure standing in the far corner, hidden by the shadows. Harry breathed a sigh of relief and stepped into the room. The door closed behind him with a soft click.

“Come on, professor! It’s time to play House Wars and this time, I’m going to win!” Harry slumped down into the orange armchair and squirmed around, making himself comfortable. The figure moved forwards and the bright orange light fell right on his face. It illuminated long silver hair and a beard that fell down to his waist. Harry blinked, completely confused.

“Professor Dumbledore! What are you doing here?” The headmaster smiled and sat down on the chair opposite Harry. He looked tired and older than Harry had ever seen him. His shoulders were slumped and the twinkle was absent from his eyes. Wisps of thin hair floated around his head, framing a face wrinkled with worry and sadness. Something was wrong. Harry could read it in every inch of his face. Something bad has happened. Harry gulped and tried to ready himself for whatever bad news was about to be delivered.

“Ah, Harry. I see that you have your sight back.” Dumbledore commented, watching Harry with his bright blue eyes.

“Yeah, Professor Snape fixed me.” Was Snape in trouble? Was that why Dumbledore was here, to confront him? No. That can’t be right. Snape cured him. Surely, now Dumbledore knows that Snape did not curse Harry. He was the one who made everything better. Now the headmaster must believe that. Maybe he was here to apologize to Snape. Yeah, that’s it. Harry had nothing to worry about. Dumbledore was just here to tell Snape what an idiot he has been, how he was wrong all along not to trust him.

“Yes, Severus did tell me about that. Apparently he found the potion and made you the antidote.” Something about the headmaster’s tone irked Harry and set him on his guard again.

“Where is Professor Snape?” He asked. There was a moment of silence as the room absorbed his question. The logs in the hearth crackled and hissed as they burned. Tiny yellow sparks shot out of them like fireworks.

“You are not supposed to be here, Harry.” Dumbledore stated solemnly, ignoring Harry’s question. “I sent you back to the burrow to stay with the Weasleys until term starts.”

“Well, I came back.” Harry snapped angrily. He was not some package to be shipped from one place to the next. “I wanted to stay with my guardian.” Dumbledore sighed tired.

“I’m afraid that is not possible, Harry. You can’t stay with Severus anymore. It is not a safe place for you and I made a mistake sending you here.” What the hell was this man talking about? Snape cured him! He is one of the only people Harry actually feels safe around. Dumbledore can’t do this. He can’t just take Harry away.

“You see, Harry, when I sent you here, I placed dozens of protective spells to keep you from harm. I did not think that Severus would ever know how to bypass my spells but apparently, I was wrong. I underestimated his abilities and he managed to curse you.” Harry was completely speechless. What the hell is wrong with this man!

“Now, it is evident that spells aren’t enough to protect you. You must leave this place, Harry, and never come back.” Breathe, Harry. Breathe. Don’t lose control. Yelling and screaming won’t solve anything. Harry’s heart was beating faster and faster. He could feel it thudding against his ribcage like a monster trying to escape. Anger was beating against his skull, red hot and undeniable. How dare this man do this to him? All his life, Harry has yearned for a family. And now that he finally had a home and a guardian who cared about him, this idiot was sitting here calmly, ripping it all away from him. Calm down. Don’t yell at him, reason with him. Force him to see the truth.

“Snape cured me. Why would he cure me if he was the one to curse me?”

“Because I forced his hand. I shut him up at Healer’s Touch and he escaped but he couldn’t escape me forever. The only way he could have his freedom back is to cure you, Harry. He told me that he found the poison and made the antidote but that was a lie. He already had the poison so making the antidote was child’s play for a talented potion master like him.” He believed that. Dumbledore truly believed that and nothing Harry could say could persuade him otherwise. Harry could see the stubborn look in his eyes, the conviction that he was always right no matter what anybody else said. Harry looked away, completely disgusted.

He stared at the two glasses of pumpkin juice standing tall beside the tray of cakes. The juice was getting warm. Drops of water had formed around the cold glass. They slipped slowly down the sides and formed a small pool at the base. Snape had been there moments before. He had set up the cakes and the pumpkin juice, waiting for Harry to come down. But instead of Harry, Dumbledore had come out of the fireplace, spewing accusations into his face. Harry could imagine how much that hurt Snape. Despite everything, Snape cared for Dumbledore and hearing all his spiteful words must’ve stung. Harry could picture Snape standing there, silently taking it all in, trying his best to mask his expression, to not let Dumbledore see how much his words could affect him. Harry’s hands balled into fists. He hated him. He hated Dumbledore. Snape was a good person. Why can’t Dumbledore see that?

“Well, I have to go now, Harry. You can stay here today but tomorrow, I’ll send Mr. Weasley to take you back to the Burrow.” Dumbledore stood up, his purple robes rustling like old parchment.

“No. I will not leave.” Harry stated through clenched teeth.
“Snape cares for me. He will not let me go without a fight.” Harry hoped to God that that was true. He couldn’t fight Dumbledore on his own.

“I’m afraid that he has no choice in the matter, Harry. He will take a Blood Oath declaring that he will never take you to live with him again.” Harry’s blood ran cold. Hermione had told him about Blood Oaths. They were like the Unbreakable Vow but with a few slight differences. Magic prevents a Blood Oath from being broken. If Harry tried to go to Snape after this oath, magic would instantly whisk him away again, preventing the oath from being broken. The only person who could break it was someone with greater magical power than the caster. Since no one was more powerful than Dumbledore, it means that Harry will be doomed. He will lose the only family he has.

“No.” Harry whispered, his voice thin and fragile like a single spider web waving in the wind. “He won’t do that. Snape will never take that Oath. He won’t do that to me.”
“Well, for now Severus is resisting. He is being stubborn and he says that he will never agree to a Blood Oath.” A ray of hope surged through Harry. So Snape really was going to fight for him. He will not give up.

“But it is only a matter of time.” Dumbledore rubbed his eyes tiredly. He looked like a man forcing himself to do something unpleasant. “But I know how to change his mind.” A chill went down Harry’s spine.

“What are you going to do to him?”

“I admit it’s not going to be pleasant. This is going to be hard on both of us but he has left me no choice. He must be made to see that what he is doing is wrong. He is trying to keep you, hoping that one day he will get the chance for revenge. I must force him to see how twisted and dark that is.” Dumbledore was not looking at Harry. He was staring at the wall, lost in his own thoughts. He sounded as if he was trying to convince himself. “He is not going to like it but the Visionara is the only way.” Suddenly, Dumbledore shook his head determinedly and straightened his shoulders. He gave Harry a smile and before Harry could reply, he was already throwing a handful of floo powder into the flames.

“Wait, you can’t…” The flames shifted to emerald green and Dumbledore stepped into the middle of the hearth.

“Healer’s Touch.” He called out and seconds later, he was gone. The flames shifted back to orange and Harry was left staring at an empty fireplace.

Panic. The feeling flooded him suddenly. What was Dumbledore going to do to Snape? He was going to hurt him. Snape must be locked up at Healer’s Touch, pacing the room like a caged animal waiting for Dumbledore to attack him. Whatever it is, whatever could force Snape to change his mind must be pretty bad.

Harry can’t just stand here. He must do something. It was because of him that Snape got into this situation in the first place. He must help but how. Harry started pacing the room frantically trying to think but his mind was a jumble of panicked thoughts. Try as he might, he couldn’t untangle them. Oh God. It was in times like these that he missed his friends the most. Hermione would surely know what to do.

Come on, Harry. Think. Think. What can he do to free, Snape?
He can go to Healer’s Touch but then what? He can’t fight Dumbledore. Maybe he could ask Professor Sprout’s help and together, they could go and get Snape. No. That won’t do. Professor Sprout was nowhere near powerful enough to fight Dumbledore. But that’s the trouble. No one could fight Dumbledore! Fighting is not the way. Then what? Convince Dumbledore that he was wrong but Harry had tried to do that and he had failed. If only there was some definite, undisputable proof that Snape didn’t poison Harry! Harry stopped dead in the middle of the room. That was it. Malfoy was the real culprit. If he confessed, then Snape would be saved. Malfoy was the only way. Without pausing to think it through, Harry whipped out his wand and jabbed it directly in front of him.

“Point me Draco Malfoy.” He yelled.

------ SS ------

Severus shut his eyes tight and pinched the bridge of his nose. He had to be calm. He had to stop his emotions from taking over. No matter what happens, he will not beg, not this time. The Visionara might take away his sanity but it sure as hell will not take away his dignity too. It has been over five years since he last tasted that bitter potion but he still remembered its effects as if it was yesterday. He remembered how the visions had creeped into his mind, dragging him under. It was like sinking into a pensieve but it was worse, much worse. In a pensieve, one was merely the spectator of a memory long past but with these visions you had to participate. It was like being spiraled down into your worst nightmare with no way to escape. The Visionara was vicious. It sank into the drinker's mind and discovered all the crimes he has ever committed. No occlumency shields were a match for the Visionara. It took the crimes and used them to torture the drinker. Severus sat back in his armchair thinking back on the first time he had been given the Visionara.

--------

Severus was slumped in a ridiculously purple armchair by the fire. In his hand, he held the small ornate vial Dumbledore has just handed him. It was oddly beautiful. A design of mermaids was painted on it and they swum around the glass, their expressions sad and soulful. This was it. This was his punishment. He had come back to Healer’s Touch, sick of himself and what he had done, fully expecting Dumbledore to throw him to the dementors but no. Professor Dumbledore was bent on sparing him from Azkaban, on giving him a second chance. Instead of spending years rotting away in Azkaban, he simply had to drink this little potion and everything will be over. So simple. Almost too simple.

Severus stared at the transparent liquid laying still as water within the vial. He could feel Dumbledore watching him from the opposite chair, his piercing blue eyes waiting patiently. What effect will this potion have? Will it be painful? Maybe it is some kind of modern method of torture. Perhaps it will show visions where he is tied up and being tortured. Well, it wouldn’t be any more than he deserved. After all, that’s why he came here, to be punished.

It is strange. Severus had imagined that when the moment had come, he would be a little more frightened. The fact was that he was calm, even strangely relieved. The thought of torture was… welcome. Pain, that is something he knew how to deal with. It was much easier than the constant guilt clawing at his insides like a hungry beast that will never leave him alone. Maybe if he was punished and tortured, his crimes would not haunt him every moment of every day. Maybe it will even atone for… No. Severus was being ridiculous. Nothing an ever atone for what he did. Nothing. He deserves the guilt, he deserved the nightmares, he deserved every bad thing that could possibly happen to him. Sighing, Severus placed the potion on his lips and swallowed it in one gulp. He barely noticed the burning sensation as it went down his throat.

Severus closed his eyes and waited for the pain to start. He waited for a minute, then two but nothing happened. There was no pain, no fear, no visions, nothing but his heart beating frantically in its ribcage. Was there something else he was supposed to do? Did Dumbledore give him the wrong potion? Severus was just about to open his eyes and tell Dumbledore that there has been some mistake when he felt someone insistently tugging on his robes. Severus’s eyes snapped open.

To his extreme surprise and confusion, he saw a little girl standing to his right. She was trying to get his attention by tugging on his sleeve. Where did this girl come from? Had the potion somehow transported him into a different location. That theory was soon discarded when Severus looked around him. He was still in the same room at Healer’s Touch. The disgustingly cheerful walls covered with white daisies surrounded him on all sides. The fire continued to crackle on the hearth but the flames had dimmed, leaving the room in semi darkness. The headmaster was nowhere to be found. The blue armchair he had occupied only seconds before was empty.

“Will you come play with me?” The little girl’s voice broke through his thoughts. She was still tugging at his sleeves insistently, demanding to be heard. Maybe she was a relative of Dumbledore’s, someone who was staying at the manor for the time being. Severus couldn’t see much of her face. It was covered by shifting shadows. But by the sound of her voice and her stature, Severus guessed that the girl was around six or seven years old. She had strawberry blond hair that was tied back into a ponytail. She was wearing a short white dress with large pockets that were bulging with various items. Leaves and withering flowers stuck out of it messily, staining her dress with sap and nectar.

“I’m afraid that I do not know any games.” Severus stated uncomfortably, trying not to sound too intimidating. Children were generally afraid of him. They took one look at him and ran, but strangely, this girl didn’t seem to be afraid. In fact, she was smiling. Severus narrowed his eyes at the girl. There was something oddly familiar about her, something he couldn’t quite put his finger on.

“That’s alright.” The girl reached out a hand and patted Severus on the knee as if trying to comfort him. The hand was chubby and covered in glitter. Her fingernails had splashes of color on them as if she has just finished painting a particularly messy picture. “We can play with Emily.”

“And who might Emily be?” A cloth doll dressed in a frilly pink skirt was gently placed on his lap. Severus looked at it. He was at a complete loss of what to do. He most certainly did not know how to entertain little girls. This was turning out to be a very strange evening. He wished Dumbledore would return and take this girl back to wherever she came from. “Ah, I see. I would certainly like to play with you and Emily but I am afraid that I am rather busy at the moment.”

“But… but I want to play with you.” The girl whined pitifully. Her shoulders slumped and her face fell as if Severus had just given her the most devastating news. Children. Why were they always so ruddy dramatic? Every little thing had them bawling like maniacs.

“Perhaps another time.” It took a moment for Severus to realize that the girl was actually crying. Silent tears slipped from her face and plopped onto the floor. Her chest rose and fell as she tried valiantly to suppress her sobs.

“Now, that is hardly necessary.” Severus tried to sound soothing. Despite his general dislike of children, he was moved by this little girl’s tears. She sounded genuinely distressed and not just throwing a loud tantrum. “I am quite sure that Professor Dumbledore will be more than happy to play with you when he does return.”

“Please, sir.” The girl’s voice wobbled. She came closer and to his consternation, she put his arms around his waist. Severus opened his mouth but nothing came out. He was being hugged at Healer’s Touch by a little girl he has never seen before. What was he going to do? He considered shouting for Dumbeldore but he didn’t want to startle the child. “Please play with me. I… I had a very bad nightmare and I can’t go back to sleep.” The girl hiccoughed, her ponytail bobbing up and down. Well, that explains why the child was so upset but Severus still had no idea what to do. How does one comfort a little girl? He did not much experience with children, especially with children who weren’t frightened of him. The only child he had taken care of was his godson, little Draco. What would he do if Draco was the one tugging on his sleeve, crying after a nightmare. Well, he would pick him up and nestle him on the crook of his arm. He would listen to Draco babble on while patting his back, comfortingly telling the little tyke that everything will be alright. But Draco was much smaller than this girl and Severus knew him. He knew what to say to make everything alright. He knew how to rock him so that he’ll fall asleep in Severus’ arms. Will the same method work on this girl? The girl’s sobbing was getting rather loud and pitiful. He had to do something until Dumbledore came back.

“Alright then, I shall consent to play with Emily.” The girl nodded but she still looked upset. Severus looked at the doll on his lap. It stared back at him with its button eyes and smiling mouth. Well, what now? What was he supposed to do with this bundle of rags? Feeling like a daft idiot, Severus took its gloved hand and shook it politely.

“How do you do?” He asked the hideous thing. To Severus’ immense relief, the little girl smiled again and patted his knee. Her shoulders were still shaking but at least she seemed a little happier.

“Well, she seems a little reluctant to talk but otherwise Emily and I are getting along just fine.” Severus stated. The child nodded solemnly and reached over to stroke the doll’s thick mane of black hair. She leaned closer to Severus and conspiratorially started to whisper into his ear.

“She’s like me, you know.” She stated. Severus raised an eyebrow and turned around to look at her but strangely, even though she was so close, her face was still covered by a flickering black shadow. Severus got that impression again, that he had seen her somewhere before, that she was somehow important even though he didn’t really know why.

“You see, Emily can’t walk either, just like me.” It was only then that Severus looked down and realized that the girl was sitting on a wheelchair. “Me and Emily had an accident you see. A bad man pointed his wand at us and then, we couldn’t walk anymore.” Severus took in a shaky breath. This poor girl had been exposed to dark magic and Severus even knew what curse had been used. The Duratus Membra, a spell that couldn’t be reversed. Severus gulped and he felt as if a stone had lodged itself in his throat.

“H…he came back last n…night.” The girl was starting to shiver now as if a deep chill had settled into her bones, unwilling to let her go. “H… he was in my nightmare. He wanted to hurt me.” The girl sounded so distressed that
Severus didn’t even think before reaching out towards her. He picked her up easily as her body was surprisingly light. Gently, he placed her on his lap, making sure that he didn’t startle the trembling child. She was so tiny. Maybe Severus had been wrong. Maybe she was even younger than he thought but there was something so solemn and sad in her voice that made her sound mature. It was only to be expected, Severus thought sadly. This girl had lost her childhood the day a monster had taken away her ability to walk, a monster like him. Severus took a deep breath. He felt the guilt like a physical pain.

The girl seemed to like being placed on his lap. She made herself comfortable, lacing her hands around his neck and buried her face on his shoulder. Emily was squashed between them, momentarily forgotten. Thankfully, the child’s trembling began to subside but Severus could feel the tears falling on his shoulder, soaking his robes. The poor girl.

My God, what was he supposed to do? How was he supposed to comfort her for the atrocious thing that had been done to her? The child was holding onto him with so much trust and innocence, it made his heart ache. If only the girl knew who she was holding, if only she knew what a dark heart he possessed then she would recoil from him. She would run away screaming. Severus sighed and patted her back softly. He rocked her a little like he was used to doing to Draco when he needed to be soothed. Miraculously, he felt the girl calm down, her breathing evening out until she was resting peacefully, her cheek on his shoulder. One hand began to play with his hair absentmindedly but he didn’t mind. As long as she was calm. Severus took another peek at her face but once again he didn’t see much, only the outline of thin lips and a button nose. Who was she? He wondered thoughtfully. He didn’t know that Dumbledore had any relatives, specially not a child this age.

“What is your name, child?” Severus asked, wincing as the child tugged on his hair a little too forcefully.

“Sirena.” She whispered, smiling up at him. An unusual name but he must admit, it was rather charming. He wondered if he should put the child back on her wheelchair now, but when he tried to extricate himself, the child grumbled and hugged him tighter. Well, that was that for the moment. He must admit it was rather nice having someone trust him so completely. The best he could hope out of most people was to be ignored. Apart from his rather acerbic personality, his appearance as a walking corpse, generally guaranteed that no one came within a mile of him. But this little girl, for some reason, was not put off by his appearance. She was trusting and sweet, letting herself be comforted by him. It was rather endearing actually. These last few weeks he had been high strung, his mind and body filled with tension and worry. But right now, with this innocent little tyke in his arms, he felt more peaceful than he had in long time.
He patted her arm fondly, not minding that Dumbledore had still not returned. The girl smiled again and asked Severus to pick something up from her wheelchair. It was a miniature pink suitcase and through its plastic window, Severus could see little cups and plates decorated with pink flowers.

Before long Severus, Sirena and Emily were busy having a tea party. The child positively refused to get down from his lap but he didn’t mind. Her presence was a comfort and she was rapidly growing on him. Perhaps he might volunteer to babysit her once in a while. The hours passed and there was still no Dumbledore and no mention of the punishment. Severus learned more about Sirena, about how she had wanted to grow up and become a dancer. She had attended ballet classes before the dark curse hit her. Obviously that was no longer an option.

Poor child. It was so unfair, having her future stolen away from her with one simple word. Still, it astonished him how strong this girl was. She had not let her injury define her. She had come up with new dreams and new goals in life. Sirena described in detail her love for all kinds of magical creatures and how she wanted to become an animal healer when she grew up. Severus couldn’t help smiling at her. What a child. He had no doubt that one day she will grow up to be a very talented witch. In a handful of years she will be in Hogwarts and then, Severus will become her teacher and possibly, if the ambition in her voice is any indication, her head of house. Hogwarts will be rather hard for her to manage without the use of her legs but Severus was determined to help her when the time came.

“Do you think I could do it, sir?”

“Do what, child?”

“Become an animal healer when I grow up?” Her voice wobbled uncertainly. She was stroking Emily’s hair absentmindedly, a hint of fear tensing up her slight body.

“Yes, you most certainly can.” Severus replied firmly.

“How can you be so sure?”

“Because you seem like an intelligent and determined girl and there is no doubt that you will find a way to be whoever you want to be.” The girl smiled and leaning closer to Severus, she looked up, meeting his eyes. At that exact moment, the fire flared up violently, causing the room to be bathed in a fierce orange glow. Then, for the first time all evening, Severus could see the girl’s face properly. The shadows disappeared giving him a glimpse of a heart shaped face, pale and filled with freckles on the bridge of her nose. Her eyes were a bright sky blue that seemed to blaze with happiness. Severus gasped, his jaw dropping open in complete shock and surprise.

This girl, he knew who this girl was. He had seen her before. Dear Merlin, what is going on here? What was happening? Severus had gone on a death eater hunt last month. They were going to hunt down one of the most sadistic guards from Normengard and they were going to make him pay. A group of five, they had thrown open the front door and rushed into the house, their silver masks gleaming under the moonlight. They had found the man and tortured him first. Death was too good for him. Then, they had all rushed outside and set fire to the house, the man still whimpering inside it. It was only when the fire had taken over the entire house that Severus saw her, the little girl staring out the window of the burning house, her face contorted in agony and terror. She had been banging on the glass, begging for help. In their haste to punish the father, they had not stopped to see if there was anyone else inside the house. None of them even knew about the daughter. It was too late to save her, Severus had watched the girl get eaten up by the fire, slowly melting like candle wax.

That girl had died. He had seen it with his very eyes. Then how was she here sitting on his lap with a big smile on her face? This was the same girl. Severus was sure it was her. Those blue eyes, that round pale face. It was her, it was definitely her. Severus could never forget that face as long as he lived.

“Is something wrong, sir?” The little girl asked innocently. Severus gulped. He didn’t know how to respond. His throat had closed up. Was she simply a relative of the girl who had died? Or was she a ghost or a memory, an imprint of the girl’s spirit left behind in this world. It is only then that the explanation came to him, sudden and shocking. The Visionara. Severus had assumed that it hadn’t worked but what if it had? What if this girl wasn’t real, only a vision induced by the potion? Yes, that was the only explanation. This girl isn’t real. This was nothing but a vision. It wasn’t real. The hopes and dreams that this child babbled on about weren’t real. It is just a vision. Severus told himself again and again in a never ending mantra: she isn’t real.

But that didn’t help him much. He felt his insides freezing as if a cold hand had grabbed his heart, squeezing the life out of it. The guilt had completely taken over. He couldn’t think, he couldn’t breathe. This child had died in that fire, the fire that he had cast. He had watched her melt in front of her very eyes. Christ, what had he done? Sirena, was that her real name? Had she really wanted to become an animal healer before she was killed? She had been a girl with hopes and dreams and a bright future, a future that he had stolen from her. Severus didn’t even notice when his body began to shake. The girl was still there on his lap, looking at him with wide blue eyes filled with trust and concern. She was looking at her murderer’s eyes and she didn’t even know it. Oh Christ. He wanted to leave. He wanted to leave right now. He wanted to lock himself up in his room and drown in alcohol, trying to forget everything. He couldn’t do this. He couldn’t face his crimes. It was too much. He was a coward. He always was and always will be.

“What’s wrong, sir? Are you ill?” Little Sirena put her hand on his forehead. Her small fingers were warm against his marble cold skin. Severus could feel her there on his lap, her small body enveloped in his arms. Her mouth was turned down on the corners and her forehead was creased with worry. There were smudges of paint on her skirt and one hand was on her doll’s head, gently stroking her hair.

Christ, oh Christ. No. No. What had he done? This little girl was no more, she had died at his hands. No, he couldn’t do this. It was too much. Severus tried to get up but he found that his body was no longer responding to him. Sirena was now getting really worried. She hugged him tighter and panted a loud kiss on his cheek. Severus groaned. He felt as if a dagger was twisting inside his guts. He tried to close his eyes but he couldn’t. He found with surprise that his body was no longer under his control. So this is what the Visionara did? It forced him to face his crimes. It shattered the barriers that Severus had used to suppress everything that he did. It made him remember and there was no worse punishment than memory, not for someone like him.

Severus stared into little Serena’s face, a face showing nothing but worry and concern. He prayed fervently that that innocent expression would change, that she would see what a monster he was. He wished that she would see his heart and run far away from him. Children and monsters should never mix. And then, almost as if responding to his wish, her face did change. At first her mouth opened in an expression of complete shock. Then, the corners of her mouth twisted and her nose wrinkled. It took Severus a moment to realize that the girl was in pain. She squirmed in his lap, low pitiful moans escaping from her lips.

“Ah! Ah! Stop it, it hurts. What are you doing?” The girl yelled, looking up at him accusingly. Severus was confused, he wasn’t doing anything. He was just sitting, hating himself. But the girl was starting to cry. She was whimpering in pain. Severus felt his heart twist as he watched her face, unable to understand what was going on. Unable to help the girl he had already killed. Tears rolled down his cheeks and he didn’t even try to stop them. What was the point?

“Please, please, it hurts, stop it! You’re burning me.” The girl was screaming now. She tried to jump down from his lap but she couldn’t. Severus’s hands were holding her in place. He tried to move them away, tried to help her escape but he couldn’t. His body wouldn’t respond. With a mounting horror, Severus noticed that his hands, wrapped around the little girl, were glowing a bright orange. Flames were licking at his skin but he didn’t feel any pain. He felt a surge of magic pulsing through his body, he felt the whisper of dark magic in his ear. He realized that his body was casting a spell, a spell that he had used so many times before: fiendfyre. Flames burst out of his hands with a loud hiss and the little girl screamed. She clutched her doll to her chest and squeezed herself into a little ball but it didn’t work. The flames from his hands continued to assault her, turning her skin an angry red. Her white dress caught fire and the girl became frantic. She kicked and screamed and cried but she couldn’t break away from Severus’s grip.

No. No. No. Severus wanted to scream, he wanted to shout.
No, please. Stop this. Stop this. Headmaster please, get me out of this vision. Please, please. Severus could feel her body pressed against his as she screamed and screamed. The smell of burning flesh assaulted his senses. Flames caught onto her hair, dancing onto her sculp. She tried to bat them away with her hands but it was no use. The flames continued to devour her, turning her cloths to ashes and melting her skin. Christ no, this isn’t happening. He can’t… No! Please stop this. He got it. He understood what an evil creature he was. Enough, please. Small fingers latched onto his robes.

Severus could feel her cheek pressed against his chest. Her skin was swelling. She was slowly being roasted alive. Severus felt the sudden urge to laugh hysterically. Merlin, he was going mad.

--------

Severus blinked rapidly, trying to let the memory fade away but it wouldn’t leave. He could still hear her screams inside his mind. For as long as he lived that memory would never leave him. It will remind him of what he was: a criminal who had burned a little girl alive. Severus took a deep shaky breath and pinched the bridge of his nose. He closed his eyes shut and tried to regain his composure. He must not appear week. Breath in. One, two, three. Breath out. Nothing will faze him. Nothing will break him. He will remain calm and impassive no matter what will happen.

At long last, the Headmaster returned. And there, gripped tightly in one hand was the potion Severus had feared for years. The Visionara. A clear liquid rested inside the ornate bottle. It didn’t move or shift like most powerful potions. It sat there looking as pure and innocent as water. The sight made Severus’s insides freeze. He tried to school his expression, to put on the mask he had so expertly developed over the years but it was hard. He kept staring at the bottle in the headmaster’s hand. Knowing what was going to happen did not make it any easier. Of course, he could tell the Headmaster where he really found that potion but what will happen then? The Malfoys, the closest friends he had, would get locked up in Azkaban. No, he cannot let that happen. He had betrayed too many people in his life. He will not betray the Malfoys no matter what happens.

“I do not wish to do this, my boy, but you have left me with no other choice.” The Headmaster walked over to sit on the armchair directly opposite Severus. He did not deign to reply to such a statement. He didn’t even look at the headmaster. His eyes were fixed on that clear liquid, swishing so harmlessly around the vial. What will it do this time? What vision will it show? Severus had been given this potion, three more times before and each time he had encountered a different vision. Sometimes he saw the victims crying and reaching out to him for help, sometimes they attacked him, yelling at him and trying to claw his eyes out. It was always different but it always hell. Severus gulped and tried to look away but the vial mesmerized him, like a gigantic wave that he couldn’t help staring at in wonder even though seconds later it would devour him.

Severus sensed the tingle of the headmaster’s wandless magic. The vial rose into the air and with a pop, it opened. It sailed through the air towards him and Severus found himself tipping his head back and opening his mouth, ready for the burning liquid to enter his body. The headmaster had more ways than the imperious curse to subject people to his will, less intrusive but more effective spells. The vial touched his lips and it tipped back slowly. Severus could feel his heart beating against his ribcage, He was scared, he was terrified. He wanted to beg and plead. He wanted to plead his innocence or his guilt, whatever would stop the visions from starting. The liquid moved towards his mouth in a slow crawl. Unable to bare it anymore, Severus snapped his eyes shut. This was it. The liquid touched his lips, burning them. Severus was trembling openly now, the mask had disappeared.

Suddenly, there was a loud bang in the room and the voice of a child screaming. Before Severus knew what was happening, the vial was snatched away from his lips. There was a crash as it landed on the floor, glass scattering everywhere. The clear liquid seeped into the floorboards, disappearing from sight. Severus snapped his eyes open and he found himself staring at a pair of very familiar pale grey eyes.

“Draco!” Severus exclaimed, completely stunned. His godson was standing over him, his face a picture of worry and fear. His chest was rising up and down, breathing hard as if recovering from a race. There were beads of sweat slipping down his face and his normally slicked back hair was sticking out in all directions. Severus stared at him in wonder. He had never seen Draco looking so disheveled. “What could you possibly be doing here, child?”

“Are you okay, uncle? Did you drink any of that potion?” Draco asked hurriedly. He was looking Severus up and down, as if checking for damage.

“Yes I am and no I did not. Now would you mind answering my question. What is wrong, dragonling?” Severus resisted the urge to draw his godson into a hug. Draco was getting big now and he no longer appreciated hugs in public. He looked so worried and frightened. Did something happen to his parents?

“I…I just…” Draco stuttered, at a loss for what to say. Severus was even more shocked. Since when does Draco stutter?

“I would like an answer to that question myself, Draco.” Dumbledore interjected. “Why did you come bursting in here throwing my rather expensive potion onto the floor?” Draco took a deep breath. He passed a hand though his hair trying to calm it down. He regained his composure and lifted up his chin in his usual haughty and slightly bored expression, as if the people around him were too dull and unimportant to be bothered with.

“I wish to say something.” Draco stated rather formerly. Severus got the impression that Draco was avoiding his eye. He was staring at somewhere above his left shoulder.

“It was not Professor Snape who poisoned Potter.”

“And how do you know that, Mr. Malfoy?” Dumbledore asked.

“Because it was me. I poisoned Potter.” Severus blinked, the words taking a while to sink in. There were muffled sounds coming from beyond the door, a clatter of knives and forks as the house-elves moved about in the kitchen, getting dinner ready. Severus didn’t say anything. He just sat there in a state of disbelief, staring at his dragonling. Draco was not looking at him, not directly. He was staring determinedly at the wall but from time to time he cast fearful glances at Severus as if waiting for him to explode. His right hand fidgeted with a serpent shaped button on his coat.

Severus couldn’t believe what he was hearing. He didn’t want to believe it. Draco had poisoned Harry? So Harry had been right. Draco really had poisoned him. Severus felt crushed, he felt betrayed by someone he had known and trusted for years. Severus was a Slytherin. There were only a few people in this world he could fully trust and his godson was one of them. He believed in Draco, he always had. No matter what the others said, he knew that his Draco was a good person, a better person than Severus ever was. Then how could he do this? How could he poison Harry?

“So it was all true? You actually did poison Mr. Potter?” Severus hissed angrily. Draco cast another quick glance at his godfather’s face before swiftly looking away.
“Yes, sir.” Draco stated tonelessly. He sounded completely unaffected but Severus knew him too well to be fooled. Draco was trying to hide it but he was frightened.

“Draco Malfoy, look at me!” Draco gulped and finally he looked at Severus. He tried to appear cool and unconcerned but Severus saw the guilt in his face at once. “How could you do this, Draco? How could you blind a fellow student and then lie about it? Mr. Potter had suffered considerably in the last week and are you telling me that you are the cause of his suffering?” Draco was silent. He gulped and looked down, staring at the floorboards as if they were the only thing in the world. His blond hair fell over his face, half covering his expression.

“I want an answer, Draco. How did this happen?” Severus had never been this disappointed in his godson in his entire life. Never had he done something this cruel.. Severus had always had a soft spot for Draco. He rarely ever said even a cross word to the boy but now, his voice was a sharp angry hiss, angrier and more dangerous than Draco had ever heard it. He could see that it was having an effect on the boy. He was trying his best not to squirm or appear too weak but it was a losing battle.

“I didn’t mean to do it!”

“Are you saying that it was an accident?” Severus was half hopeful as he asked the question. Anything was easier to believe than that Draco would deliberately do something this terrible.

“No, sir. It was just a spur of the moment thing.”

“Oh and that makes it alright, does it?” No answer. “Now why don’t you begin by telling me how you got your hands on that particular potion.”

“I stole it from my father’s stores. There’s an age line on the main door and I’m not supposed to enter it but I found a secret entrance some time ago. I went in during the Easter holidays and got the potion.”

“So you were planning to poison Potter ever since Easter. Did you deliberately wait for an opportunity to slip it into his food and blind him, possibly for life.”

“No! I didn’t mean to do that. I got the potion just to show off to Crabbe and Goyle. I do that sometimes, showing them stuff from my father’s private stores. Things that’ll impress them. That’s the only reason I got that potion, I swear!”

“And yet how did it end up in Mr. Potter’s blood system if you did not mean to?”

“I just... I know I shouldn’t have done it but I just got so pissed at that bloody idiot.” Draco’s hands had balled into fists, anger flaring his silver eyes. “It happened a few weeks before the summer holidays. Potter had just found out that he was going to live with you for the summer and I might have gotten a little bit… jealous.” That Severus certainly could believe. Draco could get jealous at the least provocation.

“Potter was sitting there in the Gryffindor table with Granger and the Weasel and he was going on and on about how unfair it all was. He kept saying that he didn’t want to live with a Slytherin git like you. He kept insulting you all the time and I just got so angry. He was getting to live with you and he was complaining? I would’ve done anything to stay with you for the summer, Uncle, but no, I have to go live in France with those morons they call my relatives. And Potter, bloody Potter, got to live with you instead. That’s not fair! And the moron had the grace to insult you too. I just.. I know I shouldn’t have done it and I regretted it the moment I did it but when I was passing the Gryffindor table the vial was in my pocket. It was so easy to open it and slip the contents onto his plate.” For a moment, there was dead silence. Dumbledore was watching the exchange thoughtfully. He looked sad and remorseful but Severus didn’t even remember that there was someone else in the room. He kept staring at his godson, half in shock, half in disappointment. He knew that Draco had his moments of petty jealousy but this was going too far.

“I choose to believe you last night, Draco. Never in my wildest dreams, did I think you capable of such a deed. Yes, you are far from perfect and I know that. You think that others are beneath you and you don’t hesitate to show it but this, this is completely different. You used dark magic. How could you do this, Draco? You’re better than this.”

“I’m sorry, uncle.” He whispered. Severus gulped. The next words were hard for him to say and he did not want to say them but he had to, for Harry’s sake.

“First of all I am going to tell your parents that you stole a priceless relic from their collection and wasted it. I suspect that they will not be too pleased with this discovery. Second of all, you’re going to leave, Draco.” His head shot up at that. Silver grey eyes met his. Severus saw the pain and hurt in his face. He felt his resolve weaken. Was this really the right choice? Yes, it was. Harry should not have to put up with him, at least not yet. He needed to heal and not just physically.

“What do you mean, uncle?”

“You were going to stay the week at my place but, because of your actions, that is no longer an option. You will return to Malfoy Manor and you will not be coming back for the summer.”

“But… you’re kicking me out! You can’t do that.”

“Yes, I can. You have proven to me that you pose a threat to Mr. Potter. I cannot leave you alone with him anymore and therefore, you cannot stay in my house, not until you earn my trust back.”

“But.. you promised that you’ll teach me how to brew the draught of living death. You promised that you’ll come and play Quidditch with me.”

“That was before you went around poisoned people.”

“So that’s it? You’re kicking me out just like that. I won’t see you for the rest of the summer.”

“I come over to Malfoy Manor all the time, Draco.” Severus stated, softened despite himself by Draco’s chest fallen appearance.

“But it’s not the same! I always stay half the summer at your place.”

“My decision is final. Nothing you say can persuade me now.” Draco opened his mouth as if to protest but he shut it again with a loud snap. He looked at his godfather and Severus could see his grey eyes misting over. Was he going to cry? Merlin, Severus didn’t think he could hold out if the boy began to cry. But no, Draco only puffed up his chest and held his ground, looking exactly like Lucius.

“Alright. I will pack my stuff and be gone from your house by tomorrow morning.” Draco nodded stiffly and without another word, he spun around and walked away.

-------- DM --------

“Dobby?” Draco commanded, his voice sharp and brusque. There was a soft pop and the Malfoy family house elf appeared. He looked a strange sight in the middle of the richly adorned dining room, his grey rags sweeping the marble floor. Two large blue eyes blinked up at Draco and a genuine smile crossed his usually solemn face. Draco had to admit that despite everything, it was nice to see Dobby again with his goofy smile and chirpy voice.

“Yes, Master Draco?” Dobby made a low bow, his long nose nearly touching the floor.

“Inform me when Father and Mother return home.” Draco commanded. Dobby looked up at him solemnly, his eyes watering with a very familiar expression of pity.

“They is already here, Master.” Draco swallowed his disappointment. He had tried to find his parents for days but, as usual, they were nowhere to be found. They went to work, to fashionable parties he was too young to attend and when home, they were frequently locked up in their apartments, deaf to everyone but each other. Draco has been here three days but he only saw his father once, when he scolded him for using the priceless Gorgoroth Potion. Draco had been hoping to catch them today as soon as they returned from the Northington Ball but it was too late. They were probably occupied by now.

“Where is Father?” Draco asked hopefully. They’ve probably just arrived. Surely, they wouldn’t mind being disturbed. Not for long, of course, Father was a busy man and he didn’t have time to idle about like a silly Weasel but maybe just for a few minutes.

“In his study, sir. He said that he is not to be disturbed.” Of course he has. Draco thought, dejectedly. He never wants to be disturbed.

“And what about Mother?” Draco tried again. His mother was less busy, surely she had a few minutes to spare.

“She is with company, sir.” Draco felt his hopes rush out of him suddenly. His shoulders slumped and he sighed into the silent room. Another day spent alone and yet this time, he had been so sure of meeting them. He had had the perfect plan. He thought they would be at the Northington Ball at least until seven o’clock. At seven, Draco was going to sit on the main staircase, directly in front of the door. That way, when they came home, they would definitely see him and talk to him. It was the perfect plan. How had it gone wrong? It was still five o’clock. How can they be home already? It was so unfair! He had waited all day for this moment.

“I is sorry, sir. Mistress Malfoy is just meeting with one girl. I is sure that she’s free soon.” Draco started. He had completely forgotten that Dobby was still here. The house elf had seen his face fall, he had seen the sadness and disappointment in his face. Father always said never to let your vulnerable feelings show in front of the servants. In front of your inferiors you must always appear strong and undefeated. Otherwise, they will lose their awe of you and get strange ideas into their heads. Draco flushed a deep pink. Damn it, why was he always screwing up! No wonder Father never had time for him. He had to become stronger and fiercer, more like his father. Draco straightened himself up and commanded in his coldest tones.

“As usual, you’ve been completely useless. Get out of my sight.” Dobby’s face fell. He looked up at Draco and his big blue eyes watered. They seemed to stare at him reproachfully.

“Yes, master.” He whispered before disappearing with a soft pop. Draco was left in the empty room with only his thoughts for company.

I shouldn't have done that. Draco thought guiltily. For some reason, Dobby was fond of Draco. He was the only one in this house who didn't mind spending time with him. He doesn't deserve to be treated like that. There’d been so much hurt in those expressive blue eyes of his. And what had Dobby done to deserve it? Nothing but answer his questions. Maybe he should apologize. Draco opened his mouth and almost called him back but he stopped himself just in time.

Was he just about to apologize to a house elf? What the hell is the matter with him? House elves aren't human! They can't feel or understand like us. Father says that house elves are not much better than animals. They don't have much knowledge and understanding in their tiny brains. Draco was just being silly. The house elf had probably already forgotten what he said. They don't have thoughts, only an inborn instinct to serve their betters.

Shaking his head, Draco picked up his fork again. The silver utensil felt heavy and cold in his hands. His dinner had already gotten cold but he didn't mind. It's not like he had much of an appetite anyway. He toyed with his food, moving the lumps of meat around in the murky brown sauce. The clink the cutlery and the plate was the only sound in the entire house. It was so quiet. Draco didn't like it.

He wished for the thousandth time that he was at Uncle Severus' place. No matter how busy Uncle Severus was, they always shared meals together. He would talk about his latest potions project and Draco would listen attentively, soaking in all the information. Of course, Uncle Severus was not as successful or as prestigious as his parents. He didn't have much money and he lived in someone else's house but despite everything, Uncle Severus was there for Draco. He always made time for him, teaching him how to brew potions, listening to how his day went. Merlin, what would he not give to be there right now, beside his godfather.

But no, now even Uncle Severus would not have time for him. What would he do with Draco when he could have Harry Potter, the myth, the legend, the celebrity! Potter was probably having dinner now, smiling and laughing with his godfather. How dare he! How dare he come into Uncle Severus' life and take him away! Uncle Severus was his, he has always been his. Father and Mother were never to be found. Draco would spend hours chasing after them in vain but in the end, it didn't matter so much because Uncle Severus was always there. But now, now Potter is there and he is here, alone. Damn Potter and his bright smiles and his habit of always doing the right thing! Perfect Potter. Draco stabbed a piece of lamb so hard his knife hit the plate with a clang.

You know what, Potter? I'm better than you. You're just a half-blood with an ugly scar. I'm a pureblood and a Malfoy. Everyone knows my family name and fear it. Father is an important man, a close friend of the minister of magic himself and Mother is the Head of the unspeakables. The blood of ancient wizarding families runs in his veins. Potter is nothing compared to him, nothing at all! In time, his godfather will see that and return to him, he has to! He's not going to lose Uncle Severus to him, a Gryffindor and James Potter's son!

Draco stood up and straightened his robes. They were emerald green silk with black snakes curled around the borders. They were not a simple product out of Madame Malkins’. Oh no, these were of the finest quality, imported from Paris. His mother had left these for him before she went for work yesterday. Potter didn't have anything like this. No. Neither he nor any of his insanely large group of friends had any taste or good breeding, not like his family. Then why would Draco care that Potter has so many friends? He didn't. Draco sneered at the dining table as if it had mortally injured him. With a stately flourish of his robes, Draco spun around and strode out of the dining room.

A few minutes later, Draco was outside the window of his father's study. He was on his brand new broom, a Nimbus 2001. His robes flapped in the wind like a large flag, threatening to unbalance him. They weren't exactly designed for flying. He gripped the handle of his broom tight and held it steady against the fierce wind. He hovered in front of the topmost window of the North Tower, gazing longingly through it.

There he was, Draco's father. He was sitting on an armchair by the fire, a glass of wine in one hand and his walking stick in the other. His two dogs sat at his feet, their heads resting on their paws. From time to time, their tails would flutter into the air and their eyelids would twitch. Father looked wonderful. Anyone looking at him, couldn't doubt the power and strength he possessed. His spine was ramrod straight and his eyes flickered with intelligence and cunning. No man was like him. No one had his taste, his wisdom, his knowledge of the world. Draco was proud to be called his son.

But sometimes he wished that his father would look at him, truly look at him and talk to him. It has been over a year since the last time they truly spent any time together. Father was always so busy. But what about now? He didn't look busy. Surely he wouldn't mind if Draco dropped by just to greet him. Draco flew a little closer, gathering courage to knock on the window. But he was afraid. Not of his father's anger. Lucius Malfoy never yelled at his son but sometimes he was so cold and distant, as if Draco was nothing but a distant acquaintance. Draco hated that above everything else, being treated so formally, so distantly, as if they weren't related at all. Oh Father, can't you see that all I want is to please you, to listen to your words and learn how to grow up and become just like you.

Seizing his courage, Draco floated closer to the window and gently rapped on the glass. At first his father started and looked around him in confusion. Then, he turned towards the window and their identical grey eyes met. In that instant, Father's brow cleared. A bright smile shone through his angular face.

Merlin, he's happy to see me. He's actually happy to see me! Draco's big smile nearly split his face in two. There he is. He's actually walking over to the window. This is it! He'll open the window and I'll go in and sit beside him. He'll talk to me, he'll tell me all about his work and about how he put all his subordinates in their places. Draco will listen to every word, he'll absorb it all and remember.

There was a dull click as Father opened the latch. Immediately the wind stormed into the study, upsetting the papers on his desk and whipping his long hair all over his face.

"Good afternoon, Father." Draco greeted him happily. Finally, after days of waiting and hoping his father was finally in front of him.

"Good afternoon, Draco. I trust that you're having a pleasant flight." Father stated with a stiff nod of the head. The smile had vanished from his face. Now, his expression looked distant and uninterested. Draco felt his hopes flutter worriedly.

"Yes, Father. It is a little windy but I enjoy the challenge." His father responded with another brief nod. The dogs were starting to wake up, they stretched their limbs and started snipping at each other playfully. A moment of silence descended between them, a silence Draco didn't know how to break.

"Well, Draco. I'll leave you to enjoy your flight." Father stated after a few seconds. He stepped back and made to close the latch. No, not yet Father, Draco wanted to plead. I've barely seen you all year. I can't stand to be alone anymore. My beloved uncle is no longer talking to me!

"Wait, Father! I'm a little tired. Can I come in and rest on one of your armchairs?"

"I'm a little busy at the moment, Draco. I'm sure the living room will be a more comfortable place for resting."

"It'll be just for a moment." Oh come on, Father. I'm not asking for much. Just a few minutes of your time. Surely you can spare that much.

"I'm afraid that's not possible, Draco. Good day." And with that, his father closed the window with a snap. That's it. The conversation was over. All Draco's hopes vanished in a flutter. He sighed. He really should be used to it by now. Why did his father always have to dismiss him? Draco watched avidly as his father returned to his seat by the fire and coolly sipped his wine without a care in the world.

Draco knew the problem of course. He was not good enough for his father. Father is not like other simple, mindless men, content with anything. He wanted and demanded only the best. Draco had to earn his attention. He needed to be stronger, fiercer and smarter. In short, he had to become the best, just like his father. Then and only then will Father pay attention to him.

One dog, a grey haired wolfhound with white paws, put his muzzle on Father's knee. Absentmindedly, he began to pet the dog, gently stroking his head. Draco watched him, wishing that he could sit there beside his father, listening to his wise words but not just yet, not until he earned it. With a sigh, Draco turned his broom around and flew away. The wind roared around him angrily trying to knock him off course but he was a seasoned flier. He had practiced for days on end hoping to get into Quidditch team and win his house the Quidditch Cup. Then, Father would be proud of him.

But not Mother, of course. While Father would be impressed by Quidditch wins and climbing in his school's social circle, Mother would only be impressed with academic achievement. She was the best student of her year, getting O's in all her exams and passing the O.W.L.s and the N.E.W.T.'s with impressive scores. For a while, Draco had earned her praise by being the best student of his year. Then, he came to Hogwarts and Granger had outsmarted him. No matter how much Draco tried, Granger would always win. No one could beat her and now, instead of being impressed with him, Mother was always asking after Granger. What is she like? She is good in all her classes? Which class is she best at? The few moments that Mother gives him are all spent in asking about Granger! If only he could beat her. If only he could outshine everyone else and show his parents that he is truly their son, just as smart, just as strong as they are.

Draco flew in spirals, getting closer and closer to the ground. He was flying over Mother’s favorite garden. Black and red roses grew in thick shrubs all along the walk, thick flowers poking out of a network of thorns. Maybe Mother would he here with her guest. Sometimes she liked to show her garden of rare flowers to her friends. Of course, Draco wouldn't dream of disturbing them. Mother would never permit that but perhaps he can catch a glimpse of her before going to bed. He had to be content with that for today.

There they were. Draco heard the distant hum of voices, nearly drowned out by the wind. It was coming from far ahead of him. Quickly, Draco bent forward, urging his broom to go faster. There was a whoosh of air and then, he was gone. He zoomed through the air, like a knife cutting through butter. This broom was a really excellent make, almost twice as fast as his old Cleansweep brand. Within seconds he saw them, the unmistakable figure of his mother walking along the gravel pathway, her raven feather cloak rising around her like wings. The second figure was much smaller, only coming a little higher than Mother's waist. Mother had one arm around her shoulders and she was talking to her earnestly.

Draco frowned. A child? That was the company Mother was keeping? That was definitely odd. Mother was not overly fond of children. All her friends were important people from the ministry, people with power. What was Mother doing here, walking around the garden with a child? Here the path was flanked by a line of tall trees. Draco went into the the thicket to hide from view and moved forwards softly, making sure not to be heard. When he came closer he caught a glimpse of a bushy head and an all too familiar voice talking non stop.

"...and I've considered becoming a healer too. I know it's hard and I know that I have to train for years but I think I can manage it." It was Granger! It was Hermione Granger, the number one student of the year, the pet of every teacher. She is here, walking in his gardens with Mother's arm around her. What is the meaning of this! Mother can't even spare a moment for him and yet here she is casually chatting with a... with that... What the hell is going on!

"Of course you can manage it. You are, after all, highly intelligent, you can manage to become anything you want." Mother was smiling down at that Know-it-all bookworm, actually smiling! And did she just compliment her? Mother is very hard to please, she never compliments anyone, not even Draco! And now this witch is here and getting all these compliments without even blinking. What the hell?! Look at her! Granger is practically preening, like an overstuffed peacock!

"I researched the topic and I found out that to become a healer, one must be apprenticed to a Master. Of course, that worries me a bit. How will I be able to find a Master to train me?" Granger prattled on, her bushy hair jumping in all directions. Mother is listening to her intently, hanging onto her every word.

"I could train you." Mother stated earnestly. Draco came to an abrupt halt. What? Did he just understand this right? Is his mother volunteering, actually volunteering to train Granger? But that's not... She's his... What?!

"You? But I thought that you are an Unspeakable."

"I am but I am also a Healing Mistress. I cannot precisely tell you what my project as an unspeakable is but it has to do with Healing." Mother took Granger's hand in both of hers and looked at her adoringly.

"Hermione, I know that you are very talented girl. I only wish to give you the chance to shine. I know that you don't think much of me or my husband and you are quite right. Neither one of us are perfect but we want to help you. All I'm asking is for you to let us." Draco wished he could just undo what he has just heard and seen. He wished he could lock himself up in his room and forget how tenderly Mother is talking to this girl, a mere stranger and a mudblood at that. This was too bizarre. It was unreal.

It was getting late but the two of them kept on talking. They talked and talked, about her grades, about her classes, about the future, about anything and everything while Draco listened on. How many times had Mother listened to him like this? How long is it since Mother was interested in anything he did? Draco was starting to feel sick. First, Potter took away Uncle Severus and now Granger is taking away Mother. Merlin, he hated these stupid Gryffindors! They're like parasites, creeping into everything and ruining lives.
-------- HP --------

Harry’s high energy state lasted for days afterwards. He simply could not sit still. He wanted to do things and go places. He never truly appreciated how amazingly colorful the world was until now. He spent hours outside, staring at the sky and at the strange plants growing in clumps and hedges all around the house. He was noticing details that he had never noticed before. How his polished broomstick handle gleamed under the sun, how the leaves seemed to blink like stars when a fierce wind blew through the branches. All in all, this past week has been the best one all summer. Snape had been amazing. Their Defense Against the Dark Arts Lessons had restarted but since Snape wasn’t being such a git, Harry was actually enjoying it. He was learning so many new spells! And in the afternoons, they had played Quidditch. Once, Snape had even taken him to the nearby town for ice cream. With only a minimum of grumbling Snape had been persuaded to spend entire days with him. There were no arguments, no tears and especially, no Malfoys. Draco has vanished and now it was only Harry and Snape getting along better than they had ever done before.

Harry smiled as he took a bite out of his chocolate frog. It crunched under his teeth and a vanilla cream poured into his mouth. It was simply delicious. Harry wondered whether wizards used spells to make their food. It tasted so much better than muggle ones. Everything was sharper in the wizarding world, as if every object was designed to heighten the senses.

Harry was sitting on a bench outside. The house towered over him, tall and menacing as ever. During his sightless days, he had forgotten just how intimidating this place looked. The pointed towers and boarded windows, the black and grey wallpaper and the grotesque creatures curled around the bannisters. Harry didn’t know why but something about this house made him uncomfortable. That is one of the reasons why he had chosen to spend so much time outside. He had even convinced Snape to hold their lessons in one of the unused gardens where the chirping birds and the rustling grass were a refreshing sight. He could laugh and be light hearted around the gardens, without the grey walls of the house closing in around him.

But today was different. He wouldn’t be playing Quidditch or having magic lessons in the open air. No. Snape has positively refused to spend another day outside. He claimed that if he soaked up anymore sunshine, his skin would boil. Harry smiled at the thought. Had that man always been so over dramatic?

Harry had suggested a tour of the house and Snape had been very happy to agree, anything to stay cooped up indoors. Honestly, why did Snape hate the sunshine so much. Harry had to practically drag him outside. Well, today Snape had finally won.

“Mr. Potter.” Snape’s voice spoke so suddenly that Harry jumped and dropped his chocolate frog. Snape was standing behind him with a very smug look on his face.

“Do you always have to do that?” Harry growled trying his best to look irritated.

“And what exactly do I do?”

“You always sneak up on me! Honestly, do you float above the ground or something.”

“Perhaps. If you haven’t noticed, I’m rather adept at the art of frightening children.” Snape crossed his arms across his chest and lifted his chin proudly. Harry couldn’t help but smile up at the man. Slytherins, who understood them?

“I think you’re losing your touch, Professor. I’m not frightened of you.”

“Hmm. Perhaps I should do better to sharpen my skills.” Snape’s lips twitched. Then, he spun around sharply and started walking towards the house. His cloak seemed to float in the air, framing his dark figure. “Come along, Mr. Potter. We had best get started. This house is rather expansive and it will take quite a long time to explore it.” With one last glances at the pointed gables of the house, Harry rushed to catch up to his professor. Despite his uneasiness around the house, he was curious to know what was hidden behind those mysterious looking doors.
Snape climbed up the steps to the house with Harry at his heels. As soon as they entered, the darkness crept up on them. As the door snapped shut, Harry’s eyes, used to the glare of the sunshine, couldn’t see a single thing. He distinguished the vague outlines of the mildly glowing yellow globes but it was not enough.

“Have you ever thought of opening the windows, professor?” For a second there was silence. Did Snape even hear him? Maybe he had already moved on to another room, his eyes seeing even in the darkness. But a heartbeat later, Harry heard a tired sigh.

“Very well, Mr. Potter. I shall open the blinds but only a fraction.” There was a swish of a wand and with a loud snap, a window to Harry’s right opened slowly. White sunlight poured in through the gap, falling like a laser beam onto the gleaming marble floor. The room was still dark but now, Harry could distinguish the outline of the objects around him. A broad staircase led up to the second floor where his bedroom was found. It was a simple black staircase polished to a shine but two horned demons protruded from the bannister, staring at Harry with twisted expressions and mouths open wide. Above his head, a large chandelier swung. It had dozens of candle holders but instead of candles, the yellow globes that Harry had seen all around the house floated above them. To his left was the door that led to the dining room and the kitchens while to his right there was another door. Harry had never been there before. Maybe it led down to the dungeons.

“What do you wish to see first, Mr. Potter? There is a library but I doubt that you’ll be too interested in that.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“Merely that a miracle would be needed to make you sit still long enough to appreciate the wisdom stored within centuries worth of books.”

“Geez. You’re a bigger book worm than Hermione.” Snape wisely decided to ignore the comment.

“This floor contains the kitchens, the floo room and a few bedrooms. The second floor houses mostly bedrooms and empty offices. The floor directly below this one contains the indoor gardens. The one you stumbled across is but one of a large set of rooms. There are forests, lakes, desert dunes and other such settings.”

“That actually sounds really cool, sir.”

“So I take it that you want to visit the underground level first.” Well, they did sound interesting but there were so many other things that Harry needed to know first. He wanted to know about Snape and where he spent most of his days. Where was his bedroom, his potions labs? How do you keep from getting lost in this labyrinth of a house. Harry wondered whether there was a map of the house somewhere. Maybe if he’d follow Snape carefully, paying attention to the twists and turns, he could make his own mental map.

“Well, I’d first like to see where your bedroom and your potion labs are, sir.”

It was no use. They had walked for five minutes and Harry was already completely lost. They had climbed a few staircases and turned this way and that. Harry had absolutely no idea where they were. Every corridor seemed exactly identical to the one before. The same set of cramped doors and never ending grey walls. Harry had tried to remember the turns. Left. Right. Two lefts. Climb a flight of stairs and walk to the end of the corridor. Enter the big door and turn to the left. Walk past four sets of doors and turn to the left again. Or was it to the right? No, they didn’t turn. They had kept walking in a straight line taking the middle turn. But that didn’t sound right either. They had climbed another set of stairs somewhere in the middle.

Urgh. This is just frustrating! What the hell is wrong with this place? Harry would swear that the house was deliberately trying to mock him!

“Professor Snape?”

“Yes, Mr. Potter?”

“Where the hell are we?” Snape turned around and arched his eyebrow at Harry. He was looking at him as if he had completely lost his mind.

“We are in my house, Mr. Potter. Where else did you think we were? Diagon Alley?”

“I meant, in what part of the house are we in? What floor is this? How on earth’s name am I ever going to remember how to find your rooms again?” Snape looked puzzled. He had stopped walking and he stood staring down at Harry. It was a narrow corridor, the walls on either side were pressing down on them. Harry felt as if he was being squeezed through a rubber tube. The thought made him claustrophobic. He felt a rush of longing for fresh air again, the desire to see the endless plains of grass swaying beneath his feet.

“What do you mean by that, Mr. Potter? Why would you need to remember anything? The house merely shows you where you need to go.” Harry took a moment to absorb Snape’s words. They still made zero sense to him.

“Huh?”

“You merely have to think about your destination and the blue glow will lead you where you need to go.” Snape stated as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. Well, it damn well wasn’t obvious to Harry! So, there was some kind of magic mixed into this place. He had to perform some sort of spell to get around.

“Have you ever thought of telling me this a little sooner, sir. Maybe when I moved in?”

“I thought that you already knew. The first day I spent in this house, I thought about food and the blue glow simply appeared, leading me to the kitchens.”

“Well, I didn’t see any blue glow! I was completely lost in this nightmare house for weeks.”

“Are you telling me, Mr. Potter, that in all the time you’ve been here, you have never seen the blue path?”

“No!” Snape’s eyes widened and he looked down at Harry in complete shock. “Maybe I have to concentrate harder. You know, like casting spells. I have to focus on the goal and summon my magic.”

“No, Mr. Potter. The enchanted path is not the result of an individual’s magic. It is a spell woven into the foundation of the house. You do not have to consciously summon it. The moment you need to find a place, the path will appear. I had assumed that that is the case with you as well. I do not know why you cannot see it.”

“This house hates me!”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Mr. Potter. A house does not have feeling.”

“Yes, it does! Its like… Its like this house doesn’t want to show me its secrets. It’s trying to crush me and drive me out.”

“Calm down, Mr. Potter. There is no need for so much melodrama. I am sure that there is a simpler explanation for all this. We just need to find it. I’ll look into the matter and in a few days, I’ll fix it.” Harry sighed. He supposed Snape was right. Maybe there was something wrong with the spells around the house, a small malfunction that can easily be fixed. He just needed to be patient.

“So there is magic in this house, sir.”

“There is magic inside every wizarding house, Mr. Potter. Protection spells, detection spells and hundreds of other spells are woven into the foundation when a wizarding house is built. Otherwise, thieves and murderers can simply apparate into people’s living rooms and cause havoc.” Harry supposed that made sense. They started walking again. Soon they came out of the narrow corridor and entered a large circular room. Snake sculptures crept up the walls. Their black scales shimmered in the lights. Harry could swear that they were breathing. He could see their bodies contracting and expanding in a steady rhythm. Harry gulped and looked away. There were four identical wooden doors all around him. Who knows how many long and endless passages were hidden behind those doors.

“Professor, has magic been used to make the inside of this house bigger?”

“Certainly. No one truly knows how big the interior is. Perhaps it is endless. There are as many rooms as one needs.”

“But, sir, if magic can expand any space then why can’t the Weasleys expand the Burrow so that they had as much room as they want.”

“Magic is not as simple as that, Mr. Potter.” They took the first door to the left. It opened up to an identical grey corridor but thankfully, this one was wider. Harry glanced around at the black doors all around him. He wondered what they were used for. Who had made this place so big? Why would any family need so many rooms?

“It takes a considerable amount of magical power to expand space.” Snape continued with his explanation. He seemed in his element, sprouting off knowledge as if he was a walking textbook. He sounded a bit like Hermione actually. “Hundreds of wizards must work together to summon enough magical power to expand the dimensions of time or space. An individual family does not have such a supply of magical power. Not even the Malfoys, despite all their wealth and influence, are capable of expanding their home.”

“But then how did this place get so big?” Snape’s steps were silent but Harry’s footsteps echoed down the corridor, making the air around them fill with odd tapping sounds.

“This mansion is no ordinary one. It was not built by a single family. It is a government sanctioned building and, like all government buildings, hundreds of employees have been used to cast spells on it.”

“So the government just built this place and gave it to you?”

“Hardly. This place was built centuries ago, even before the statute of secrecy was put in place. It was originally intended to be a sanctuary for the mentally challenged. For a while it served this purpose but over the course of the last century, newer, more cheerful places were built for such people and this place was abandoned. One of the biggest patrons who sanctioned this building was a Dumbledore so now, the headmaster owns this place and he has agreed to let me stay here for the time being.” Harry stopped dead in his tracks. Their long shadows danced in the grey tiles in front of them.

“Wait a second. So this place was once an insanity asylum?”

“Well, if you want to put it in such indelicate terms, then yes.” Was it only Harry’s imagination or had this place suddenly grown darker and more oppressive? Harry could almost picture it in his mind, hundreds of people walking around these corridors, their dazed eyes expressionless, their mouths mumbling an incoherent string of words. Harry would picture red rimmed eyes wide with madness and humorless laughter. He gulped. He had sensed all along that this place had a sad history. There was something about this house that was different, as if the grey walls had soaked the misery of the people who had been locked up in here.

“Once I saw a bedroom with barred windows. There were scratches all over the walls and around the window, as if someone was trying to escape.”

“Ah, yes, I do remember. It was one of the things you accused me of in that letter of yours. I presume that you thought I had imprisoned people in this house. Well, at least to that charge, I can declare my innocence. I don’t know who was trapped in that room. It was probably a mad patient who had been locked in.” Harry nodded. He was getting a strange feeling in the pit of his stomach. He could imagine it so easily. Trapped in a small space with nothing to do to while away the endless hours. Sometimes the silence was enough to drive a person mad. Maybe they had started to count in their heads, just for something to do. Maybe they had even hummed to themselves, anything to break the silence. Harry had tried that once, when he was locked up in his cupboard. That had only made his relatives madder. His uncle had pounded on the door telling him to shut the hell up. The sad thing was, that even his uncle’s hurtful words were welcome, anything was better than the silence and the absolute darkness. It was like being buried alive.

“Mr. Potter?” There was no window in the cupboard. It was impossible to know what time of the day it was. At least, when his relatives were home, they made noise. Dudley whining that his life was unfair, his uncle complaining about his colleagues, his aunt gossiping about the neighbors. Of course he couldn’t really hear their conversation. All he heard were muffled sounds but that was better than nothing. Harry, sitting cramped in his cupboard would soak up the sounds, shaping them in his mind into imaginary conversations.

“Mr. Potter, are you alright?” It was much worse when no one was home. When Dudley had gone to school and his uncle had gone to work. His aunt would sometimes go outside to hang out with her friends. Other times, she would go upstairs to read in her room. She always closed the light in the corridor and Harry was left in darkness. He got frightened then, really frightened. He would bang on the door and demand to be let out. He would scream that he didn’t do anything wrong. But there was nobody left to hear him, only the…

“Harry!” Harry felt hands grip his shoulders and shake him mildly. He blinked in confusion for a second, caught between his memories and the present. When his mind finally focused, he saw that Snape was crouched in front of him, his black eyes worriedly scanning his face. He felt the thin fingers on his shoulders gripping him tight, holding him onto reality. Harry felt the panic that had started to build up inside him slip away unnoticed. It was alright. Everything was alright. His professor was here. Harry smiled and put his arms around Snape’s neck.

“I’m okay, Professor. Sorry I scared you.” Snape didn’t look convinced. His mouth was pinched into a tight line and his eyes kept flicking back and forth rapidly, scanning Harry’s features.

“Perhaps you ought to sit down. We can defer this tour until…”

“No, no, professor! I can continue. Really, I’m fine.” Harry gave his professor a brief hug. It was nice to feel hands around his waist, squeezing him back. Sometimes Harry needed that, to feel that his new guardian was real and not a figment of the fantasies he created for himself while locked up in his cupboard. Snape still looked doubtful but he stood up slowly.

“I called you multiple times but there was no response. You looked rather strange, standing there with a glazed expression, swaying on your feet as if about to faint. Perhaps a delayed side effect of the potion is taking effect.” A cold hand was placed on his forehead, searching for a temperature. Merlin, Snape really could be overprotective like a mother hen clucking after its young. If you thought about it, he was a bit like Mrs. Weasley with her endless fussing. Harry stifled a laugh.

“It’s nothing like that. I was just caught up in a memory.”

“It must have been a rather powerful one to produce such an effect.” Oh yes, it was very powerful. So powerful that it wouldn’t let him go. Sometimes Harry still woke up in the middle of the night thinking that he’s still locked up in his cupboard. He could actually feel the walls closing in around him.

“It’s just another memory of the Dursleys. When you told me about these people locked up in their rooms, it reminded me of them.” Snape nodded understandingly. Maybe he did understand. Dumbledore probably thought that locking him up was a good punishment too.

“I have heard rumors of your ill treatment at the hands of the Dursley. I’m ashamed to say that at the time, I merely thought that you were fishing for attention just like…” Snape suddenly broke off, sensing that he was entering into dangerous territory. Harry was glad. If Snape insulted his father again, Harry would have to defend him and that will surely result in an argument. They’ve been so peaceful this entire week, it would be a shame to start yelling at each other now.

“What I am attempting to say is that I know how you feel. I know what it is to be betrayed by those who are supposed to take care of you. If you are in need of someone to talk to, I am here. I hope you know that.” Harry nodded solemnly. He has never talked about the Dursleys with anyone, not even with Ron and Hermione. He didn’t want to be pitied and he definitely didn’t want to appear weak and defenseless. But with Snape it would be different. He would understand. Maybe some other time, he really will take Snape up on his offer.

They started walking down the corridor again. Both of them were silent, absorbed in their own thoughts. They were taking countless twists and turns but Harry wasn’t even trying to keep up this time. He simply followed behind Snape, hardly looking at where he was going. He couldn’t get the image of the insane people out of his mind. He kept thinking about them, about what it must’ve been like to spiral slowly down into madness without being able to do a damn thing about it. They must’ve walked along these gloomy halls hundreds of times, the grotesque gargoyles leering down at them.

As they passed down a corridor, Harry paused for a second outside one of the doors. It was identical to all the others, the same featureless black door and silver handle. It must be another bedroom. Guided by an impulse, Harry twisted the handle and pushed the door open. The door swayed slowly inwards to reveal a very simple bedroom. There were no shelves, no trunks, not even a chair to rest in. The only window was narrow like the slit of a snake’s eye and even that was barred with iron. In the very center of the room, there was a small bed. It was just the right size to fit a child several years younger than Harry. Fitted to the four bedposts were four chains of rusted iron. They were just the right length to close over the ankles and wrists of the child sleeping on the bed, trapping them in place.

Harry felt it again, the sudden flash of panic, the sense that the air was too thick to enter his lungs. His breath was coming out in short gasps. Air, he needed air. He felt a familiar hand squeeze his shoulder reassuringly. Harry leant backwards, feeling the solid presence behind him. He felt his anxiety lessen.

“Who could live in a room like this, Professor?” A name had been scratched onto the wooden headboard. The letters were crude and barely legible. Emily Jane, it read. A girl. A little girl had been chained to this bed. “Who could do something like this? How cruel can a person get?”

“Sometimes it is necessary.” Snape whispered so quietly that Harry almost didn’t catch his words. Harry turned around to face his guardian suddenly.

“What! How can you say that? No one deserved to be chained down like this, especially not a kid.” Harry yelled angrily.

“Have you ever met an insane person, Mr. Potter?”

“No but…”

“Then you do not know what it is like. Yes, a lot of them are quite harmless but there are others who are not. There are those whose minds have been warped and twisted so much that they have turned into little more than ravenous beasts, eager for violence. Sometimes restraining them is the only way to keep them from harming themselves or each other.” Harry was shocked by the passion in Snape’s usually cool voice. It was like the time in the reptile room when Snape had been talking about his mother, his eyes burning with an intensity that was almost frightening. “Would you rather let the person fly into a fit of passion clawing at their own skin until blood poured down their bodies? No, restraining them is the only choice available. It is not pleasant, not to the poor mentally ill patient and certainly not to be the person who has to do it despite how repulsive he finds it. I would thank you not to judge what you cannot understand, Potter. And believe me there is much you can’t understand with that substandard brain of yours.” Harry blinked up at his guardian. He was shocked at the anger in Snape’s voice and the way his chest moved up and down as if he was about to explode. Snape hadn’t had one of his sudden fits of anger in a long time. Harry didn’t know what to say. It was obvious that Snape had personal experience with a dangerous insane person. He didn’t want to risk saying the wrong thing and making Snape even angrier. Instead he waited in silence until Snape’s breath evened out and his eyes lost their fierce glimmer. In a few seconds, Snape was his usual self again. He looked highly uncomfortable and ashamed of himself.

“Mr. Potter, I…” Snape started to say but Harry cut him off.

“”It’s okay, Professor. I’m sorry I upset you.”

“I apologize, Harry. I did not mean to insult you. I just…”

“I know, sir. Don’t worry about it.” Harry patted his back reassuringly. Normally, that kind of comment would piss him off but now he understood Snape a bit better. There was so much pain in his past, sometimes it threatened to overwhelm him. It had nothing to do with Harry. “Come on, we have the rest of the house to go over.”

“After showing you my rooms, I can take you to the library. It has a large holographic map of the house. It can help you find your way until I learn how to fix the spell.”

“That sounds great.”

-------- HP --------

Harry was uncomfortable. He squirmed in his bed. His body felt weird, as if gritty sand had gotten into his pajamas and was rubbing against his skin. Harry groaned and turned on his side. The bed felt strange under him, rough and uncomfortable. That's odd, Harry thought vaguely, his mind groggy with sleep.

The wind roared wildly in his ears, messing his hair and tugging at his cloths. Damn. I must've left the window open again. I should get up and close it. Maybe in five more minutes. Harry reached blindly for his blanket, his hands groping all around him. Instead of the familiar softness of cloth, his fingers closed something different. It felt like soil or dirt, something fine.

What the hell? Harry thought, suddenly returning to his senses. Did he fall asleep in the garden? Slowly, he became aware of other sounds, sounds that definitely did not belong to a bedroom. An odd whispering was all around him, as if a crowd of people were muttered under their breaths. And the wind. It was loud, insistent, even violent. It shrieked like an old woman who was being stabbed to death again and again.

Abruptly, Harry sat up and opened his eyes, his hand automatically reaching for the glasses on his nightstand. But there was no nightstand. There was no blanket or bed. There wasn't even a room. Harry was sitting in the middle of a desert. Sand as white as fresh snow was everywhere, extending for miles and miles all around him. Wherever he looked there was only sand. The wind, despotic and powerful, ripped away fistfuls of sand and threw them up into the air forming thick clouds. Patterns of dunes dotted the landscape but the wind didn't let them lie still. They moved and shifted like the body of a serpent slithering along the ground.

I'm dreaming. I must be dreaming. Harry thought, fighting against the wind to stand up. But no dream had ever felt like this, so real, so vivid. Harry could see the grains of sand as they poured out of his sleeves and scattered onto the floor. He could feel the wind dragging him forwards and backwards and sideways, not leaving him alone for a single second. Why am I here? Why am I dreaming of a desert I've never seen before? Harry thought, wishing he would wake up soon. This place was starting to exhaust him.

"Harry!" A muffled voice was shouting, trying to be heard above the shrieking of the wind. Who was that? Harry looked all around him but he couldn't see anyone, only a whiteness that moved and shifted restlessly. Maybe he had been mistaken. Maybe it was only the voice of the wind playing tricks on his mind. But no, there it was again. Someone was definitely calling him.

"Professor? Is that you?" Harry shouted back but his voice was lost amidst the loud shrieking. What an odd dream! Harry thought, trying to move in the general direction of the voice. It called to him again and again, beckoning him forward. It was hard to walk. The wind kept trying to push him down and subdue him. Sand was in his eyes and mouth, it scratched at its skin. His feet sank into the ground, getting half buried. Every step was a huge effort. He didn't know how long he struggled in that barren desert but finally, after what felt like hours, he reached the source of the voice. Just a few meters in front of him was the figure of a tall man.

"Professor?" Harry asked timidly but as he came closer he realized that this was not his guardian. No, this man was more muscular than his skeletal professor. His hair was much shorter and a robe of crimson flapped around him. He was standing stock still as if the wind and the sand were not affecting him at all. Instantly, Harry got the impression that this was a very dangerous man to cross. Fearfully, Harry took another step forward. With a whoosh, the clouds of sand around him cleared and Harry finally saw the man's face. It was a mirror image of his own, only the man's features were more mature and the scar was absent from his forehead.

Dad. Harry smiled softly, finally understanding what he was seeing. He was dreaming of his father again. He hasn’t done that in a while, not since coming to live with Snape. Harry stepped forwards, eager to be as close to his father as he could. But something was different this time. Harry could sense it. This was not like the other dreams where his father was only a vague outline, a mixture of random shapes pasted together. The man standing in front of him was so much more detailed, more… solid.

Harry stared, taking in everything. His father had a youthful face, he looked much younger than Snape. Maybe this was because his forehead was smooth, untainted by worry and anxiety. A broad grin crossed his face, showing a set of gleaming white teeth. His eyes were big and chocolate brown and right now, they were sparkling with happiness. There was so much life in them and they gazed at Harry with undisguised affection. Harry smiled happily back. Merlin, this was wonderful. This was the best dream he’d ever had.

His father was dressed in an odd outfit. The cloak around his shoulder was red, a red as dark as wine. A lion was emblazed onto it. As the robe fluttered in the wind, Harry could catch glimpses of this lion. It was a dirty yellow color and it was harsh and threatening, its jaws open, showing a set of dagger sharp teeth. Under his robes, his father wore a shirt of golden chainmail. The hundreds of gold rings glistened in the sun, making a pretty impressive sight. To complete the outfit, he wore long black boots and a black belt with a wand holster visible on the side. The wooden handle of a wand poked out of it. He looked like a valorous knight who had come out of an ancient fairytale, ready to battle evil and save the world. Dear Merlin, he looked so strong, so powerful. Harry could stare at him for hours.

“Well, kiddo? Here I am.” Dad spread his arms wide as if embracing the entire world. His voice was loud and booming, the voice of a great leader. “Aren’t you glad to see me?” Harry could only nod. He felt as if something was lodged in his throat, trapping his voice inside him. How can this be? How can the man standing in front of him look so real?

Harry took another step closer. He stretched out his right hand, reaching towards his father’s arm. But his fingers did not touch him. They passed through with only a mild resistance. His father threw his head back and laughed. The sound was so loud, Harry jumped backwards, startled.

“No, Harry. I’m not alive. Not yet.” His father said, a trace of laughter still lingering in his voice. There was a moment of silence. Father and son stared at each other, absorbing every detail avidly.

“Merlin, how you’ve grown, kiddo.” His father reached out, as if to ruffle his son’s hair but again, his fingers brushed past Harry. “Last time I saw you, you were just a little thing. I could pick you up and throw you into the air. Damn, how you laughed! You just squealed and shook your chubby fists like a little drunk puppet. I guess you don’t remember that, do you?” Harry shook his head slowly as if afraid that any harsh movements will make this dream disappear like a soap bubble popping in the air.

“Don’t you remember me at all?”

“A bit.” Harry stated softly. Finally he had found his voice again, it sounded strange even to his own ears. The wind was still shrieking madly around them but his father seemed to understand him anyway. He didn’t seem to be a part of this desert world. “I don’t remember your face. I’ve seen you in pictures but it’s not the same.” His father nodded solemnly.

“But I remember your voice and your laugh sometimes. You always laughed.” As if to prove his theory, his father laughed again. And yes, it did feel familiar to Harry like something he had always known but momentarily forgotten.

“Oh, Dad.” He whispered, choking up. He felt tears gathering at the edge of his eyes. “I wish you were real!”

“But I am real, kiddo.” His father said, looking him right in the eye and just for a moment, Harry almost believed him. “Well, technically I don’t have a body yet but that doesn’t mean I’m not real. It’s still me.”

“What’re you trying to say, Dad? That you’re a ghost?”

“Not exactly. To be a ghost, you have to be dead but, technically, I’m not dead anymore. I’m a spirit stuck between life and death.” Harry just looked at him with a confused expression.

“Do you know where we are, Harry? This crappy, boring place we’re in. It’s called limbo. It’s where the souls of the dead come before moving on to the afterlife. If you listen carefully you can hear the souls whispering.” Harry looked around him. His father was right. Underneath the shrill voice of the wind, he could hear an odd jumble of sounds. A soft, confused whispering of thousands of voices. It was all around him, like the scuttling of tiny beetles. Harry peered closely at a cloud of sand that was rising up to his left, was it only his imagination or could he really see the outline of a shape within that sand cloud, like the flickering shadow of a woman? “Sometimes, living people like you can come to this place in their dreams and visit their loved ones for one final time before they move on forever.”

“But if that true, what’re you doing here? You’ve been dead for a long time.” Harry asked, looking all around him, trying to find some other shapes hidden in the sand. Sometimes, he could see them. A flicker of light, a shifting shadow, an outline drawn in the sand. Was it really true? Were there dead people here?

“Didn’t Dumbledore tell you, Harry?” His father asked.

“Tell me what?”

“He’s trying to bring me back to life.” Harry blinked up at his father. His mind was a blank. He couldn’t take this information in. It brushed past him like a insubstantial cloud. “He has a expert necromancer working for him night and day, trying to bring back members of the order of the phoenix who had died in the first wizarding war. He has found the answer, Harry! He has found a way to defeat death, the ultimate enemy!”

“What… How…?” What is going on? Is it possible that this actually isn’t an ordinary dream? Is this really his father’s spirit standing in front of him?

“I don’t understand the specifics, kiddo. I was never the academic one but this is what I know. A while ago, I woke up in this weird place just like you did. The last thing I remembered was rushing at Voldemort, trying to protect you and your mother. I remember the flash of green light and nothing more. For a long time, I can’t exactly say how long, the sun doesn’t set here, I just wondered through this desert, trying to find something, anything that’ll help me understand what was going on. I knew I was dead but I didn’t really expect death to be this...lonely. I just kept on walking, driven by a hope that I’ll find someone soon. And one day, I did. Out of the blue, Dumbledore just popped in front of me. He told me all these things. He told me that I’d been dead for more than ten years but now, it was time for me to return to the land of the living. Let me tell, that was quite a big shock!” His father shook his head and laughed softly.

“Anyway, he told me that a combination of spells and potions had been cast over my body. This caused my spirit to be retracted from the afterlife and it has landed me here in limbo. Now, apparently, I have to wait in this bloody place until his pet necromancer pours a few more potions down my throat and brings me back to life.” To say that Harry was shocked would be an understatement.

“Merlin, if that’s real, Snape’s going to be pissed!” The words slipped out of Harry’s mouth before he could stop himself. The effect was instantaneous. His father’s smile vanished. His features distorted into an expression of pure hatred.

“Ah yes, Dumbledore told me that you’re living with that bastard now.” His father spat out the words through clenched teeth. His hand automatically went to his wand handle, ready to whip it out and start hexing furiously.

“He’s not that bad and....” Harry started but his father interrupted him angrily.

“Not that bad? How the hell can you say that? He’s a Slytherin, an evil snake! He and those like him are the ones polluting our world, bringing evil into our peaceful land! They are a virus that must be eliminated.” His father was shouting loudly now, every word booming like the thud of a drum. Harry stepped back, slightly frightened by this burst of sudden anger. Wow. It looked like his dad and Snape had one thing in common. They both had pretty frightening mood swings. “What the hell was Dumbledore thinking! How can he leave you in that house filled with Slytherins! They’re all watching you, waiting for the right moment to attack.”

“You’re wrong, Dad. There’s only me and Snape living in that house and he’s harmless. If you get to know him then…”

“Is that what he told you, kiddo? That lying filthy bastard! Listen, Harry, while I was here, I managed to talk with some of the souls and you know what I found out? Snape has converted the West Wing of Widow’s Flight, that creepy house you’re living in, into a snake den. A whole host of Slytherins are living there now, hiding from the law. Criminals, murderers and thieves, the lot of them!”

“But that’s not true, Dad. I’ve been living there for weeks and I haven’t seen anyone.”

“Of course you haven’t! Slytherins are cunning, they know how to hide, but trust me, you’re in grave danger. There are loads of people living in that house and all of them want you dead. You have to get out! You have to get out now!”

“But… I ....” Something weird was happening. His father’s figure was blurring, like an inkblot slowly dispersing in cold water. The color in him was fading. Even his voice was becoming distant as if he was slowly moving away from him.

“Damnt it! Our times up!” The wind has suddenly quieted down. Harry could no longer feel the grains of sand under his feet. The white around him was fading into a dull grey.

“Dad!” Harry shouted but no sound came out of his mouth. He rushed forwards and tried to grab onto his father’s cloak but his body wasn’t responding to him. His father was nothing but a smudge now, his shape hardly distinguishable.

“Remember what I told you, Harry.” Dad’s voice floated to him from some distant plain. It was an urgent whisper. “You must get out! Go to Dumbledore and tell him…” The voice trailed away and Harry was surrounded by a vast empty blackness. He felt a rush of air around him as if he was falling from a great distance. Harry clawed into the darkness, trying to find something to hold onto.

With a sudden jolt, Harry woke up in his own bed. He was panting hard and the blankets were twisted around him, trapping him in place. Quickly, Harry grabbed his glasses from his nightstand and jammed them on. He almost expected his father’s spirit to have followed him here but there was no one. He was alone in his own bedroom. The familiar objects were all around him. There was his broom, sitting quietly in a corner beside his open trunk. His school robes messily poured out of it, slipping halfway onto the floor. There was his cupboard and his desk filled with textbooks. The only things moving in the room were the sky blue curtains. The window was half open and the wind slipped in, fluttered the delicate folds of the curtains.

It was just a dream. It was just a dream. Harry thought, trying to calm down his frantically beating heart. His father was dead. There was no magic that could bring back the dead. What he saw couldn’t have been real. It was only his overactive imagination at work. He had heard what he hoped to hear, that’s all.

But no matter how much he reasoned, doubt began to creep into his mind. What if it was real? What if his father really was coming back?