Harry woke up groggy early the next morning. The sunlight that beamed through the window made him pull the covers over his head, trying his hardest to get away from the annoying light. He heard a soft mewl of protest as he rolled over, and he picked up the kitten and placed him next to his arm. Somehow, Hades had managed to get into his room during the night, and the black kitten slept curled into a small ball on Harry's chest all night, much to the annoyance to Hedwig.

Someone gave three sharp knocks to his door, and Harry jerked upright, unpleasant memories of Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia snatching him out of the cupboard rushing to the surface. Hades went tumbling to the floor, giving a small squeak as he landed on all fours. He flicked his tiny tail, his nose in the air, and sauntered off to the corner of the room where he plopped down, his back turned to Harry.

 "Potter?" called a soft voice that definitely did not belong to his uncle. "You need to get up. Breakfast is ready and Minerva will be here in an hour. Hurry up and get dressed."

That's right. He wasn't at the Dursley's. He was with Snape. He was safe. He wasn't in trouble for missing breakfast.         

 And Grammy Min will be over soon! The thought rushed him into action. He rolled out of bed, throwing the covers off, and slipped his feet in Snape's hand-me-down oversized slippers. He opened the closet, picking clothes at random, and threw them on. He wound up wearing a plain black t-shirt and faded jeans, which suited Harry just fine. He quickly smoothed down his wild wings, which didn't help in the slightest, and ran down the stairs, only slowing down at Snape's shout.

  Snape gave a small frown at Harry's jeans when he saw Harry's outfit. "I don't know why I even bought you those," he commented. "They look ridiculous."           

"I think they look great," Harry said back, and sat down at the table. His mouth watered at the spread before his eyes, and he had to stop himself from piling too much on his plate at once. Plates toppled with plain, chocolate, strawberry and blueberry pancakes littered the table, with pitchers of maple syrup, whipped cream cans, fruits and nuts surrounding them. Harry piled several chocolate pancakes on his plate and topped them with strawberries before smothering the entire plate with a lake of maple syrup.

 Snape went the less diabetic way and took three blueberry pancakes and covered it with a small spiral of whipped cream. Harry cut away a bite and gave a small moan of pleasure as the flavors hit his tongue. He had never tasted anything so good! Not even the spaghetti from last night hadn't tasted nearly as heavenly as the pancakes! 

He inhaled them one after the other, as if his food was going to be taken from him at any moment. He had come to expect it from the Dursley's, but he now knew Snape would never do something like deprive him of food, which was why after he ate his plate, he eagerly got a second helping. He ate up to three more pancakes, eating a blueberry, strawberry and plain one instead of chocolate, and had a large, satisfied smile on his face when he was done.

 "Thank you so much, sir! It was amazing!" Harry praised. Snape must have been up for a while to make this much food!           

Snape gave a simple one-shoulder shrug, sipping at his coffee. Harry spotted two small spots of color high on his cheeks. "It's nothing a little magic can't help with."

 Harry gulped down his orange juice then politely excused himself. He finished getting ready, trying once more to smooth down his wings. He didn't even try with his hair. He knew beforehand exactly what would happen: nothing.

 Getting his wings smoothed down enough to look at least somewhat presentable was a challenge, but Harry did it. He admired his reflection, sighing in defeat when a feather popped out of place. He knew it was pointless to try again, so he brushed his teeth instead of worrying about it, glad to get rid of all the sticky syrup that coated his teeth. 

The memory of last night surfaced, and with it came questions. He wanted to ask Snape about the man he was talking to, but he didn't want to make the older man mad. He seemed like he was in a good mood, and Harry certainly didn't want to be the person who ruined it. 

Instead of focusing on the previous night, which he knew would bring only more questions, he focused on the sound of the Floo flaring to life in the living room. Harry hastily ran down the stairs, Hades nearly tripping him as he tried to wind around his legs. He shot towards McGonagall, engulfing her in a giant hug. 

"Oof! Hello, Harry dear." She smiled warmly down at him, returning the hug.

"Hello, Grammy Min! Are we going to fly now?" he asked, bouncing on his feet slightly.

 "Harry!" Snape chastised.

 McGonagall gave a small chuckle. "It's alright, Severus. You're straight to the point, aren't you Harry?" Harry felt his face flush. "Well, if you're ready, then I don't see why we can't start now." 

All embarrassment forgotten, Harry quickly ran out of the living room, shooting like a rocket to the glass door leading to the backyard. He heard McGonagall laugh and Snape sigh behind him, and he eagerly threw open the door. 

He realized Snape must have cut the grass at some point without Harry knowing,  because when Harry stepped outside, the grass was no longer as tall as him. He looked out in awe at the lawn. It didn't even look like the same place! 

"It's amazing what a few cutting spells can do," Snape commented behind him. Harry turned his head up to look at the man. Snape's wings were out to their full span, feathers fluttering with the breeze. With his wings spread and his face to the air, he looked more relaxed and happy than Harry had ever seen him. 

McGonagall had hers spread as soon as she left the door. Her brilliantly colored wings shimmered in the sun, making Harry a little envious of their amazing color. Without warning, McGonagall bent down at the knees then shot up in the air, landing on a tree branch not far away. 

Snape rolled his eyes. "Show off," he muttered. Harry looked at her with wide eyes. The sure speed she had flown was very impressive. Harry wouldn't have seen her fly if he hadn't been paying attention. Mcgonagall was looking at him, her cheeks slightly flushed from excitement and a wide smile on her face that made her look nearly twenty years younger. Her legs dangled from the branch, swinging back and forth. 

She must have been fun at Quidditch matches, Harry thought as he craned his neck to peer at her. 

"That, Harry, is what we plan on getting you to at the end of the day," McGonagall said. She hopped down from the branch, her wings catching wind and softening her fall. Her feet touched the ground and she folded her wings again, tight against her back. Harry eyed her like she was crazy as she walked towards him. 

"Me, do that in just a day? That looks like it could take years!" he complained, tugging at his much smaller wings. There was just no way he could compete with her speed. Even Snape looked slightly skeptical. 

"Nonsense, Harry. Your father was a fast flyer. Faster than me, even, and he was only a second year when he began Quidditch. I'm positive you can do it," McGonagall replied. 

"While I'm sure that's true, Grammy Min, I have my mum's wings, not my dad's. I don't know how well she flied. For all I know, I may not even be able to fly," he said, thinking back to the time in Snape's quarters when he had prepared himself for flying to the mantle. 

"Well that's just silly," Snape spoke up, surprising Harry. He had been silent until then, watching with a small air of impatience. He figured he wasn't going to assist in any way. "Lily was a marvelous flyer. She may not have been exactly on par with your father, but she was good on her own. She made a marvelous Keeper. Besides, you may have your mother's wings, but that does not mean you haven't inherited your father's speed." McGonagall nodded in agreement.

"For example," Snape continued. "I have a cousin in Manchester who inherited his father's wings. Tiny little things, they were. But his mother, daredevil women she is, could outfly a fighter jet if she wanted. Despite his little wings, he had inherited his mother's speed. He could outfly her if he so wished. So it doesn't matter whose wings you've got, or what they look like, it just depends on genetics." 

"Exactly," McGonagall butted in. "I wouldn't put it past you to have inherited both of their flying talent. It'll just make you a greater asset for when you join your House's Quidditch team." 

"Still stuck on that are you?" Snape said, peering at her with an eyebrow raised. Harry thought for a moment that he was being mean, but he saw the glint in his eyes that countered his nasty tone. McGonagall just gave a small smirk back. 

"We just don't want you to get discouraged, Harry. Even if you don't inherit your father's speed, we know you'll still be a marvelous flyer," she said. Harry still had a small inkling of doubt, but he pushed it in the back of his mind. He spread his wings, marveling in the wind that rushed through the gaps in his feathers. 

"Try to fly to the tree and back. You don't have to go fast. Go at the pace you feel comfortable at," Snape said, pointing to a tree a few feet ahead. Harry thought that was a bit short distance, but didn't argue. He bent his knees, finding his balance, then shot up. 

He nearly fell as soon as he got in the air. His wings flapped frantically, keeping him a few inches off the ground. Despite their size, they barely held him up at all. He flapped harder, only being able to rise another inch. Sweat beaded on his forehead. His breath came in short gasps, and he strained to keep himself up. 

Dejected, he flopped back down on the ground, his butt hitting the concrete. 

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Snape give McGonagall a small look. Harry couldn't tell what it was, but he was sure the message was clear: He couldn't fly. 

"Don't be sad, Harry. Not everyone can get it their first time," McGonagall comforted. She grabbed his hand and helped him up. 

"I bet my dad got it his first time," Harry grumbled. 

"I wouldn't know if he did or not. He was already flying before he got to Hogwarts. Caused trouble wherever he went, that boy." McGonagall narrowed her eyes, remembering the menace that was eleven year old James Potter flying through the halls. 

"I didn't get it my first try either, Harry," Snape said, brushing off Harry's shoulders. "It took me well into my first year until I could fly twelve feet off the ground." 

"Yeah, well that's you," Harry replied, not caring about his sharp tone. 

Snape ignored his comment. "Your mother couldn't fly her first time as well. It took her a couple of days, but then she was flying around England like a pro. She had to teach me when we were younger before Madam Hooch became my instructor. I can promise you, if you keep practicing and don't give up, you will be flying high in no time. You are your mother's son, after all." 

Harry pursed his lips, letting the words sink in. "Perhaps," he said slowly. "Perhaps we can just focus on keeping me airborne for now instead of me flying twenty miles per hour like you wanted, Grammy Min." 

McGonagall flushed a light pink on her cheeks, looking a bit sheepish. "Yes, well, perhaps I had my hopes set a bit high. I was just excited. I think that's a good idea, Harry." 

For the next two hours, Harry practiced, flapping with all his might. He managed to get to the point where he could fly a few inches forward without wobbling in the air. By lunchtime, he could fly to the end of the yard and back, as long as it was low to the ground. He hoped that after lunch he could practice flying higher. 

McGonagall praised him as they walked back in to eat. Even Snape looked mildly proud. She made sandwiches, turkey with lettuce and cheese. Harry scarfed his down, excited to go back outside and fly. 

"You really need to learn how to eat slower," Snape commented as he placed another sandwich on Harry's plate. 

Harry frowned and poked at the bread. "But I want to go back outside," he whined. 

"We'll go out soon enough. For now, you need to eat. Flying exerts a lot of energy, and you're going to need a lot of it for practicing," Snape shot back. 

"You've already exceeded my expectations, and it's only noon!" McGonagall said. "For now, lets just try and practice perfecting what you know. You don't need to rush." 

"I've already got my flying form down. I think I can handle flying a bit higher and faster. I want to try and fly to a tree branch, like how you did before."

"Except not as fast," McGonagall chimed in.

"Yeah. Except not as fast."

"I think Severus should teach you that. My old wings are tired from all of this flying. And I believe it is my turn to observe anyway," she said, eyeing Snape.

Snape rolled his eyes to the ceiling. "I suppose."

Harry felt a surge of excitement rush through him. If he thought his Grammy Min was a great teacher, he couldn't wait to see Snape! He studied the jet black wings. They were sleek and shiny, looking perfect for a fast race. He looked like he could outfly McGonagall!

Harry ate slower this time, savoring the turkey instead of scarfing it down like before. Snape had said Lily had taught him, so perhaps he could teach him some of his mother's techniques.

Snape got up, brushing crumbs away from his mouth. "Are you ready, Harry?"

Harry shoved his half-eaten sandwich away, hurrying to stand beside Snape. "Yes,sir!"

Something sparkled inside the onyx eyes, and he trained them on McGonagall. "Are you coming, Minerve?" his deep voice said.

McGonagall shook her head, patting her stomach. She looked content. "I think I'll just watch from the window. I'm tired and full. But I will join you later," she replied.

Snape nodded his head. Harry saw McGonagall pick up a mewling Hades, then followed his new teacher out to the backyard.

Snape was way harsher than McGonagall, but he didn't go as fast as she did. He gave Harry time to perfect what he was learning before going on to the next thing. McGonagall would get too excited and rush onto the next lesson before Harry could barely finish with the last lesson.

"Harry, you need to keep your balance. If you keep wobbling like that, you'll fall for sure!" came the yell he had become accustomed to.

Harry grumbled something rude under his breath, but tried to steady his body. His foot slipped from the tree branch, and he would have plummeted straight to his death if Snape hadn't of caught his arm and pulled him back upright.

Instead of having Harry try flying straight away, he had him practice balance. He flew Harry to a tall tree branch and had him hold his wings out while trying to stay upright as he walked to the end and back. Snape stood on a branch directly across, his wings folded and standing against the harsh winds that had suddenly appeared. He had no doubt that Snape had conjured the wind, just to add extra pressure.

Harry looked down, and his eyes saw double. He scrambled himself further to the middle of the branch. He had no fear of heights, really. He had become accustomed to them whenever Ripper was around. He had even stayed the night in them a time or too. But he had never been this high up. He was also nervous, nervous of failing and falling and letting Snape down. He didn't want to disappoint his new mentor, and every time he looked down, he thought of falling, and how distressed Snape would be.The double vision lawn seemed to taunt him, but he shook his head and kept walking.

A rather strong gust of wind hit his wings, and he flapped them to keep upright. Bad idea.

As soon as his wings moved, he went flying backwards, too fast for Snape to catch. He hit a the thick tree trunk, the wind getting knocked out of him, and fell. His vision darkened.The lawn came closer and closer, and he closed his eyes, bracing for impact. He could hear Snape's worried shout behind him, and could hear the branch creak as he shot off to catch him.

Flap, Harry. Flap your wings. Hurry! The voice came out of nowhere. It wasn't one he recognized, certainly not his own inner voice. It was warm, soothing, and he had a strong urge of familiarity.

He listened to the new voice, and flapped. Once. Twice. He stopped falling. His balance evened out. He pulled up just as he was about to go splat. His feet grazed the grass, and the wind whipped his hair. He turned midair, facing behind him. His wings flapped leisurely, completely different from before. Snape flew beside him, a look of mild panic on his features. His arms were still outstretched to catch him.

"What on earth?" McGonagall threw the door open, storming out and looking above her.

Harry looked down. "Look Grammy Min! I'm flying! I'm doing it!" He did a mid-air donut, just to prove his point.

The looked of panic snapped off of Snape's face, replaced with something odd that looked like a mix between anger and happiness. He flew towards Harry, and gripped his skinny shoulders. The strong raven wings blew even more air in his face.

"What. The. Hell. Were. You. Thinking?" Each word was said with a shake, and Harry's glasses threatened to fall off his nose.

"I-I..." Harry stammered.

"Did you fall on purpose? Did you think you could try out a new technique? Answer me, Potter!" There was a wild look in Snape's eyes, and it scared Harry a little.

"I didn't fall on purpose, I promise! The wind caught my wings!" Harry tried to pry Snape's fingers away from his shoulder, but the digits wouldn't move. He was going to have bruises there for sure.

Snape then did something that he was sure surprised the both of them. He held Harry close, crushing him in a hug that robbed him of his limited breath. "Thank Merlin you're okay. I was so scared. I thought you were going to die, and it would be all my fault."

Harry stopped struggling from the hold, looking at the older man's face. His eyes were closed tight, and Harry could see his lips quivering. His breath came in shudders, and Harry could feel Snape's heartbeat beating against his chest, wild and erratic.

"I'm okay, sir. I promise. I'm okay." Harry hugged the man back, hoping to calm him down a little. Snape swallowed hard, and let out a shaky breath. He let go.

"We're done with practice for today," he said, his voice a little wobbly, then began steering Harry mid-air down to the ground.

"What! But I finally got the hang of it! I can fly now!" Harry tried protesting. Snape said nothing, just pushed him faster. Harry's feet touched the soft grass. McGonagall had her hands over her mouth, and she rushed over as they landed.

"Are you okay?" she asked. She began to check Harry for injuries, fussing over him and bustling around. She gave a new meaning to the term ‘mother hen'.

"I'm fine, Grammy Min." He broke free of the older woman's hold and faced Snape.

"Why can't we practice anymore today?" he asked, stepping closer.

"I need some time to calm down after your little stunt. We can practice some more tomorrow. But for now, we're done," the man replied, his voice leaving no room for argument. Harry didn't even bother trying to explain that he didn't fall on purpose. He knew the man was too far gone to listen. He would just have to explain later. Snape stormed back into the house, and walked up the stairs. He could hear his bedroom door slamming shut.

Harry sighed and walked to the dining room, where he plopped down on one of the chairs. Hades pawed at his leg, mewing. He nudged the kitten away.

"Not now, Hades," he mumbled. McGonagall came and sat opposite his chair.

"Are you sure you're okay, Harry?" she asked, placing a withered hand on top of his own.

He squeezed her hand in reassurance. "I'm fine."

His back began to itch, right at the base of his wings, and he struggled to reach behind him and scratch.

"Is it supposed to itch like this after flying?" Harry asked, finally managing to get a finger on one of the irritating spots. He scratched lightly, sighing when the itchiness went away.

"You're wings need preening," McGonagall said, looking at the ruffled feathers.

McGonagall batted his hands away from his shoulder blades then began to scratch. Harry leaned into the touch, arching his back like a cat. After scratching, she began to run her fingers through his feathers, smoothing them down.

"Turn your chair around, Harry. I need more room to groom your wings."

Harry obeyed, turning his chair around and placing his arms on the back. He could feel McGonagall's hands roam over his primary feathers, picking away at whatever was lodged in his wings. The grooming went on for quite some time, well over an hour. By that time, Snape had cooled down some and was now sitting in the chair McGonagall had vacated, large nose placed firmly in a book. His wings were wild as well, and Harry was sure he was waiting on his turn of grooming from McGonagall.

Harry was completely relaxed, nearly boneless in the chair. He never knew clean wings would make him feel this good. It felt like he just walked out of the bathroom after a long warm shower. He felt like he could go to sleep at any minute.

McGonagall plucked one more thing out of his wings then scooted her chair back. "I'm all done, Harry. You really need to keep your wings more clean. I know you've only had them for a couple of days, but it looked like they have been on your shoulders for years," she said as he got up.

She held out her hand, close fists, and Harry stared at her curiously. "Look at this," she whispered. Even Snape looked up from his book to see. McGonagall opened her hand, and a small mound of baby feathers fell to the floor.

"You're molting," Snape said, bending down to pluck one of the feathers off the ground.

"Molting?" Harry questioned, inspecting the pile. "Is that bad?"

McGonagall smiled. "No, Harry. It's the exact opposite. It's amazing! You're wings are growing!"

"What?" Harry brought a wing around. They looked the same to him. "They are?"

"When witches and wizards get their wings, it starts off as baby feathers. They grow extremely fast, almost directly overnight. You won't be able to feel it. You just wake up one morning on your birthday to see a full set of wings. But over the next couple of days, your wings begin to molt, shedding the rest of the baby feathers. It allows larger feathers to grow in their place, and once your molting process is complete, you'll have bigger wings, shinier and better than before." Snape explained. "When Minerva groomed your feathers, it sped up the process a bit, and now we have this lovely pile on my dining room floor." Snape frowned a bit, but scooped up the rest of the feathers.

"It's a process that is very important in a young witch or wizard's growth. Some parents usually keep the first baby feathers that molt, much like how some keep the first baby tooth that falls," McGonagall said.

Snape put the baby feathers in a little ziploc, then handed the small plastic baggy to Harry. "Congratulations," he said.

Harry stared at the small feathers with awe. They looked fuzzy, a bit duller than some of his other feathers. He had never noticed them before.

"These came from me?" he asked.

Snape nodded. "They look a lot your mother's baby feathers. We never got to keep hers. She lost them when her sister set the baggy on fire."

Harry felt a prick of annoyance. Of course Petunia would ruin something so important.

"You better find a safe place to put those. We don't want to lose them," Snape said.

"I'll put them in my bedside table," he replied.

Hades pawed at a feather that they had missed. Harry enjoyed watching the kitten play as McGonagall preened Snape's feathers. The man sighed and relaxed as she ran her hand through his wings. His head was in his arms, and he was reacting like he was getting a deep tissue massage. He rolled his shoulders on more than one occasion, and his wings fluffed up when McGonagall began to go down his primary feathers.

"I'm sorry, Severus," McGonagall said, amused. "I forgot you're ticklish on the outside of your wings."

Snape just grunted in response.

McGonagall finished Snape's, then turned around so he could do her wings. Harry hid a small smile. The image reminded him of monkeys sitting in a line, plucking bugs off of their partner.

Bored now with all the waiting, Harry went to his room, Hades padding along behind him. Spin, the lazy snake, was taking a nap underneath the lamp light. Hedwig peeked an eye open, but closed it when she saw it was Harry.

"Hello, girl," he murmured, petting her snowy feathers. He dug around for an owl treat, and she nipped happily at his fingers as he fed it to her. He went to place the bag away back in his drawer, but stopped. He looked at the small bag of treats curiously.

Can I eat these? he thought. I do have wings, after all. Doesn't that make me part bird?

He rolled the treat in his fingers. He could just hear Snape rebuking him for his stupidity. Was it really worth it? He looked at Hedwig, who was watching him intently. Oh, well. Nothing ventured, nothing gained, I guess.

He popped the treat in his mouth like popcorn. Instantly, his face contorted to a look of disgust. He spat the treat out on the floor, where Hades began to sniff the small pellet.

"Oh yuck!" Harry wiped at his mouth, spitting the taste out. "That's disgusting!" He turned to his pet owl. "How can you eat these?"

Hedwig cocked her head sideways, her wide eyes curious, like, whatever do you mean? 

Harry furiously tried to wipe the taste off his tongue with his shirt collar. Spin lifted his head up and gave a hissing laugh.

"Oh, shut up," Harry hissed at him.

Hades licked at the treat then scrambled back, licking at his nose rapidly. He wore the same expression that Harry had earlier.

"Nasty, isn't it?" he asked the small kitten. He picked up the owl treat, placing it in his garbage bin. He sat on his bed, bouncing on the creaky springs. Something on his bedside table caught his eye. A brown envelope laid on the corner, his name in loopy handwriting on the front.

"Hello, there. What's this?" He reached for the letter and picked it up, examining the outside. He waved it at his bird. "Did you deliver this, Hedwig?" he asked. She hooted, which he took as an affirmative. Funny, he didn't remember he having something on her leg when she came back that night, but then again he was very tired. He had probably forgotten before he went to sleep. He tore open the letter, curiosity overtaking him.

Harry, it began in the same loopy handwriting. His heart leaped. It was a reply from Hermione!

It's so great to hear from you again! I was going to write myself, but I realized I didn't have a way to get a letter to you. But then you wrote first, so now everything is solved! I will admit, seeing an owl fly into my window at three in the afternoon was a bit of a shock, but I assumed it was something from the wizarding world, so I didn't have to worry.

Imagine my surprise when I found out the Harry Potter was writing me! Not many people get this chance you know, and to ask me for advice and questions to boot! I was extremely excited, needless to say.

As for your questions, I may have some answers.

I for one wasn't afraid at first. It wasn't until I was informed by this lady McGonagall of his no doubt return that I began to get anxious. My emotions were just heightened that day in Diagon Alley from excitement, so that's why I seemed so afraid. But it is scary, you have to admit. Just imagine that man returning! I wouldn't want to stay in England if that happened. I would most likely move to America with my cousins. As for it being a rumor, there are a lot of rumors about a lot of things. Who knows if it is real or not. We'll just have to see. That's what I'm afraid of.

Those were my parents you saw in the shop with me. They were almost as excited as me to get to see magic. McGonagall, who is a professor at Hogwarts, came on my birthday. She told me I had magical abilities and explained how Muggleborns are descendants from Squibs, people who don't have any magic despite being born in a magical family. She gave me Hogwarts: A History as a gift and went over it with me. That's how I knew about you. She took us to Diagon Alley the next day to help us get supplies. She cast this spell on my parents so they could see. While my parents and I were at Madam Malkin's, Miss McGonagall went to get some of my other supplies, like potion ingredients and my books.

You sound like you're having a lot of fun. If you do get permission to bring Spin to Hogwarts, please keep him away from me. I'm not a huge fan of snakes, even if he is nice.

I can't wait for Hogwarts. I want to go to the library and live in it. I hear it's a huge labrynth of books. It sounds like heaven. There's a picture of Hogwarts in the book. The grounds do look rather large. I hope I'm in good enough shape to keep up with everybody and make it across the grounds for my class everyday. I wouldn't want to be left behind.

My summer has been amazing as well. It's almost dinner time, so I'll have to tell you at a later time. Perhaps I'll see you on the train. I hope you continue to have a great summer. You seem like a nice person as well!

-Hermione G. 

Harry smiled. Hermione sure was thorough with her answers. He had suspected she was smart, now he had proof!

The phone ringing in the living room made him jump. He poked his head out. "Who is it, sir?" he called.

He saw Snape's shadow move from the dining room to the living room. Harry walked down the stairs, curious.

"Snape residence.This is Severus speaking," Snape's deep voice answered the phone. His expression changed from one of boredom to shock. A large smile broke out across his face. Harry had never seen him with that look before. From McGonagall's expression, she hadn't either.

"Miss Rose! What a surprise! I was just going to call you later today!" Snape's excited tone reached his ears. Harry perked up. Miss Rose? Could that be his grandmother?

"Yes, yes! You've heard correctly. Oh, yes. He's here." Snape's eyes roamed across the room until they landed on Harry. He held out the phone, his eyebrow raised. Harry quickly scrambled back, shaking his head. He hated talking on the phone, no matter who it was. It always gave him anxiety. Snape looked a bit put down, but held the phone back to his ear, making Harry sigh with relief.

"I'm sorry. He can't answer the phone right now. He's a little shy." A deep laugh rang across the living area. "I understand completely. Mmhmm. Yes. I would love that! Tomorrow, perhaps? That's wonderful! Yes, of course we'll be there. That's a perfect time. Thank you so much for calling, Miss Rose. Oh, of course. I forgot. Goodbye, um, mum." A pause. "I lo-ehem-I love you, too," he rushed, as if he didn't want Harry or McGonagall to hear. "Goodbye, ma'am." He hung up the phone, his cheeks tinged pink.  

"Who was that, Severus?" McGonagall asked, asking the question Harry was dying to say. Her voice was underlined with slight laughter.

Snape turned to face them, clearing his throat. "Miss Rose. That was Harry's grandmother," he replied. "She had heard that Harry was staying with me and wanted to talk to him." He eyed Harry. "Since he couldn't answer, she asked Harry and I over tomorrow for lunch. She wants to get to know you, her and your grandfather. Mr. Joe couldn't talk, but you'll meet him tomorrow. He was taking a breathing treatment."

Harry felt a rush of excitement. He was going to meet his grandparents! "What time did she say?" he asked happily.

"Noon. We're going to have to get up early though to get ready. She may say noon, but she really means eleven thirty. She hates tardiness, and would rather you be early when you go to visit."

She sounded a lot like Aunt Petunia in that regard. He hoped she was nicer. As long as she didn't throw frying pans at his head, he was fine.

"That's fine with me!"

McGonagall smiled. "I hope you have fun, Harry. I haven't met them personally, but from what I heard from Severus and your mother, they are very kind people." She got up from her chair, rolling her shoulders. "Well, I have to go, Severus. Thank you for having me over. I had a marvelous time."

"You're leaving?" Snape asked.

McGonagall nodded. "Yes. I hate to leave when the fun was just getting started, but all of that flying wore me out, and add that with the wonderful grooming you gave my wings, I'm about to fall asleep where I stand!" She chuckled then stretched. Harry could hear her joints popping from where he was at the stairs.

"Well, it was a fun time having you over. I'm glad you could help with Harry's flying, Minerva," Snape said, then got the jar of Floo powder off of the mantle.

"Yeah! Thank you so much for helping!" Harry gave her a hug, which she gladly returned with bone-crushing strength.

She stepped into the fireplace. "Goodbye! Hogwarts, Minerva McGonagall's office!" The fire turned green, then she was gone.

Once the flames died down, Snape turned to Harry. "Are you excited?"

Are you excited? What type of question was that? "Of course I'm excited! I feel like I'm gonna...I'm gonna explode with all of this excitement!" He replied. His wings flapped energetically with his words.

Papers rustled on the living room table from the wind Harry made. Snape cracked another smile, except it wasn't as large as the last one. "I'm glad. You'll love them."

A thought entered his head, a dark one that made Harry's excitement die down instantly. "What if they don't like me?"

Snape's smile vanished. "Why would you ever think that? Of course they'll love you! They have been so excited to meet you. I'm sure you'll get along splendidly."

The dark thought still nagged at the back of his mind, despite Snape's comforting words. "Yeah, but what if?  Did they even know I was alive?" His breath quickened.

"Did they think I died with Mum and Dad? Or-or, if they knew I was alive, why didn't they come and visit? Why didn't I get put with them instead of my aunt and uncle? Why-" Harry was nearly hyperventilating now, his breaths coming in short bursts. His voice sounded hysterical, right on the verge of tears.

Snape gripped his shoulders. "Harry! Harry! Shh! Calm down, child. Calm down."

Snape held him until Harry calmed down. His breathing evened out. He realized he was gripping Snape's shirt fiercely, and quickly let go.

"Now, will you let me explain?" Snape asked in a soft tone. Harry nodded. Snape led him to the couch, where they both sat down.

"Your grandparents..." he began, licking his lips. "They wanted you." Harry opened his mouth, but Snape intervened. "Yes, they knew you were alive, Harry. Please don't interrupt. They wanted you after that night, but Dumbledore wouldn't let them. He said that your aunt and uncle would be better. They were younger. They would offer better protection from the wizarding world. Miss. Rose and Mr. Joe didn't like that at all. In fact, they wanted a court case to have custody of you, but the Wizengamot sided with Dumbledore. You were placed with Petunia and Vernon instead. After that, it was up to them whether you saw them or not. Judging by your reaction, I would say you haven't."

Harry shook his head. "I didn't even know I had grandparents until you told me."

Snape let out a breath from his nose. "I was afraid of that. Miss Rose has told me on multiple occasions that they had made plans to see you, but they were cancelled every time. She never really explained why. I now assume it was because Petunia shooed her away."

Harry shrugged. "I suppose. I don't even think Dudley knew he had grandparents either. He never mentioned them."

A slight sneer marred the older man's face. "Damn woman," he hissed.

A fragment of their conversation rang in his ears, and something clicked into place. "Hold on. You said you talk with her. Does that mean you're close? You called her mum over the phone."

Color rose up Snape's neck. "I, uh...yes, well...I'll--I'll explain later," he dodged.

Harry opened his mouth to demand more, but Snape stood up. "I hope that explained everything, Harry. Just know that your grandparents wanted you and they love you very much. Now, go to your room and busy yourself. I..I have things to do."