“Marble, no!” Harry shouted, as he lunged sideways out of his chair to catch the falling figurine before it hit the floor.

With it safely in his hands, he rolled onto his back to glare upwards at the nickering Aethonian.

The day after they’d brought Marble home, Snape had rearranged the living room bookcases, removing some of the books that Harry wasn’t allowed to touch and replacing them with some of the figurines that he had elsewhere. This allowed Marble to have company whether he was upstairs or down.

Unfortunately, Bertie Evergreen’s comments about Marble picking fights had been remarkably restrained. The Aethonian appeared to be incapable of getting on with all of the non-animated ones. In the past week, he’d already pushed a Granian off the shelf in Harry’s room – only the fact that there was almost no spare space at all had saved it, as it had landed on the bed.

And now he’d just done the same to a heavy-set Abraxan foal.

Cradling the poor thing in his hands, Harry clambered to his feet. He was about to set the foal back on the shelf where it had been when he caught sight of the look Marble was giving him. Realising that the foal would only end up making another swan dive towards the floor, he retreated to his chair, and placed the cream coloured foal carefully between his leg and the arm of the chair. Marble snorted in disdain, and went back to posturing at the rest of the adult Aethonians.

Giving him suspicious glances every now and again, Harry went back to concentrating on his Astronomy homework. They were supposed to draw a chart of how the planets had aligned on the day of their birth, and then project it forward to draw how the planets would look on the day they came of age – which Hermione had helpfully informed him was seventeen in the Wizarding world. Professor Sinistra had said that they were then to write an essay on what influences this would have on them, and how they could enhance or mitigate the effects.

He was just struggling with Europa – all of his circles were a little wobbly, but this particular one looked more like a spreading ink blot than the others – when a sleek silver cat suddenly strolled through the wall.

Surprised, Harry blinked at it, as it sat down in front of him, drawing itself up, tail curled neatly around its forepaws. It gazed imperiously around the room, and then looked up at him, head tilted as if to ask who he was, why he was there, and why he wasn’t immediately getting the person it was after.

“Um, if you’re after Professor Snape,” he said, hesitantly, “he’s out in his lab.”

The cat turned its head as if it could see through the house wall to the lab outside, then turned back again, one ear flicking in a desultory manner.

Harry sighed. “You want me to go fetch him, don’t you,” he stated.

The cat blinked once.

Sighing again, Harry put his homework aside and got to his feet. Crossing the room towards the kitchen, he had to backtrack to collect the Abraxan foal when he spotted Marble preparing to dive-bomb the poor thing. Clutching it safely to his chest and glaring at the Aethonian, he made his way outside and hoped that Snape wouldn’t be too annoyed with him for interrupting.

The first round of knocking was so faint that Severus momentarily paused in stirring the potion in front of him, trying to decide if he were hearing things. Unfortunately, the experimental potion was extremely volatile, and the moment’s inattention cost him.

The second round of knocking was obscured by the deep, rolling BOOM that shook the entire laboratory.

Gingerly picking himself up from the floor, Severus glared at the thin layer of orange-yellow liquid that was now covering everything – including him. Striding towards the door, he gestured curtly with his wand, and the door burst open, ricocheting off the wall so hard that it almost slammed itself shut again. Severus’ temper was not improved by the sight of Potter cowering away from the doorway. The boy was clutching a figurine to his chest, and Severus hoped the boy hadn’t come to tell him that he’d been clumsy whilst playing and had broken it.

“What is it, Potter?” he snarled.

Potter’s eyes widened as the boy got a good look at him, and his mouth opened and closed soundlessly a few times. “Err . . .” he finally stammered out. “Sorry, sir. One of those silver things came through the wall again, a cat, and I think it wants you.”

A cat Patronus. Severus froze. Only two people that he knew had a cat as their Patronus, and Minerva McGonagall would not have bothered to announce her arrival. “What does it look like?” he asked.

“Posh,” Potter said, and Severus felt the chill creeping up his spine again. Damn. Definitely not Minerva’s, then. Her Patronus was an almost-feral looking Scottish wild cat.

Severus’ mind began racing, trying to determine whether it would be better to hastily banish Potter to his room, with strict orders not to come down for any reason – easily trapped – or to send him to walk the surrounding areas – better chance of Lucius getting to him first – or to just lock Potter into his lab – too many dangerous substances, especially for a nosy teenage boy.

In the end, there really was no good choice.

He spat something that made Potter gape at him, then grabbed the boy by the shoulder and hustled him inside. As soon as they reached the living room, the silvery messenger stretched languidly and came to sit at his feet, ignoring Marble, who had been prancing in front of it, wings up and neighing in strident challenge. “Ah, Severus,” it purred in Lucius’ lazy drawl, “I shall be calling round to see you. Do be available, there’s a good chap.” And with a flick of its tail, the Patronus faded away.

Severus swore again – although only mentally, this time – and pushed Potter towards the hidden doorway. “Upstairs,” he ordered, following closely on the boy’s heels. “No,” he barked as Potter automatically turned towards his own room, “not that way! In here!” Shoving his own bedroom door open, he yanked Potter sideways.

No doubt Potter was gaping at the place, but there was no time for that. Hastily tapping out the sequence for the wards, Severus pushed the boy into what was essentially a large wardrobe. “Stay here,” he ordered. “Wait until I come back for you. Do not attempt to leave – you won’t like what the wards would do to you. Keep quiet, no matter what you hear . . . and touch NOTHING!” With that, he slammed the door and locked it again.

Hastily conjuring his own Patronus, he sent it off to Albus. He didn’t think the headmaster would be able to do anything to or about Lucius, but at least he’d know where to start looking if Potter went missing.

Then he went downstairs to wait for his . . . visitor.

Harry barely paid attention to Snape’s warnings. He was too busy being gobsmacked about actually getting to see inside Snape’s room without being dead first. And then . . . the space he’d been pushed into . . .

He’d thought at first that Snape was shoving him into an ordinary wardrobe, and had been trying to resign himself to spending who knew how long pressed up with robes that smelt of potions ingredients.

Instead, he found himself at the beginning of a long corridor that seemed to stretch into the distance for miles. On either side of him, towering above his head, were shelves with little spotlights built in. And on the shelves were figurines. Hundreds and hundreds of them.

Still cradling the Abraxan from downstairs, Harry began wandering down the corridor, stopping occasionally to closer examine a particular figure.

About halfway down on the right hand side, he came across a small alcove. Instead of shelves, it held a pedestal, with just one figurine on it. Bright spotlights shone down on it. A half-way opened scroll was hung at the top of the alcove, and in curly letters, it proclaimed, ‘Lily’, although Harry couldn’t tell if that was an official name for the figurine, or just one that Snape had come up with.

The figurine was a Hippocampus. Its tail curled underneath it, with its forelegs draw up as though it was resting on thin air. It was slender, and smaller than the ones that Harry had seen in his room. A young one, then, he decided. Not an actual foal, but a young adult.

The horse part of it was a deep and yet somehow bright auburn colour, and its tail was a striking emerald green. Its mane looked as though it was being moved by underwater currents, and it drifted across the Hippocampus’ face, so that it was peeking out through the strands in a remarkably shy manner. Its ears, though, were eagerly pricked forward.

“Wow,” Harry murmured. His fingers tingled with the urge to reach out and touch the beautiful figurine, but he suddenly remembered Snape’s warning and tucked his hand more firmly around the Abraxan foal he still carried. The figurine was not pretty enough to die for.

Strangely reluctant to look away from this figurine, Harry slowly began meandering down the corridor again, wondering if he’d have time to see all of them before Snape remembered he was here and came to fetch him.

Lucius Malfoy appeared in his living room with an authoritative crack, opened his mouth, spotted Severus, and gaped at him.

At that point, Severus remembered he was still covered in the exploded potion. Growling, he swiped his wand over himself.

“Well, if you will interrupt me when I’m brewing,” he grumbled. He just hoped the substance hadn’t hardened by the time he was free to go and clean his lab.

Lucius closed his mouth and cleared his throat, pulling together his dignity again. “I shall remember that for next time,” he said, and luckily turned away before he could see Severus wince. Severus dearly hoped there wouldn’t be a ‘next time’. “Two chairs, Severus?” Lucius abruptly asked, sharply.

“Dumbledore,” said Severus, folding his arms over his chest and scowling. “The old man will make himself free with other people’s belongings.” Seeing the sideways glance his old school mate gave him, Severus rolled his eyes. Some people are too paranoid for their own good, he thought. “Don’t be obtuse, Lucius,” he sighed. “Of course those aren’t the chairs Dumbledore conjured.” He shuddered just thinking of some of the monstrosities Albus had conjured in the past. “His were a lot more garish.”

“Hmm.” Twirling his wand between his fingers, Lucius suddenly gestured commandingly at the chair that wasn’t covered in parchment. With a sinking feeling, Severus realised that Potter had been doing his homework in ‘his’ armchair when Lucius’ Patronus had arrived. In his rush to get Potter out of sight, he hadn’t asked what the boy had been doing.

The chair that Lucius was looking at was morphing inwards and upwards, turning into a wooden chair with a tall back, with a cream-coloured leather panel running down the middle of it, and matching the leather seat. It looked rather like something come directly from the Malfoys’ dining room.

When it had stopped moving, Lucius twirled his wand again, slotting it into place in the top of his cane, and gracefully seated himself. Severus was about to take the other armchair, when Marble abruptly dashed in front of him, clutching a piece of parchment from Merlin knew where in his teeth. The Aethonian landed on the seat of the armchair and dropped the parchment right over the one that Potter had obviously been drawing on. The animated figure then crow-hopped onto the pile, turned around twice, and then faced Lucius, his head and wings up to make himself look bigger.

“Marble!” Severus growled, scowling to hide his relief. Shooing the Aethonian off the chair, he scooped up the parchment and shoved it onto one of the shelves. Marble flicked his tail at Severus, then disappeared into the kitchen. Several seconds later came the sound of cutlery clattering into the sink.

Lucius raised an eyebrow at Severus, but made no comment.

As it was no concern of Lucius’, Severus merely raised an eyebrow back as he settled himself into the cleared armchair. Crossing his legs, he leant back and studied Lucius.

“A little bird told me the most fascinating rumour,” Lucius began. He rested the cane upright between his knees and rested both hands on the handle.

“Since when do you listen to rumours?” Severus asked.

“The Ministry runs on gossip, Severus,” Lucius said. His gaze sharpened. “Don’t you want to know what they’re saying about you now?”

“More of the same drivel they usually spout, no doubt.” Severus folded his arms again and glared at the blond aristocrat. “Why should I care this time? It’ll pass soon enough when they find something else to bandy about.”

“You may want to listen this time, Severus, in case it reaches the wrong ears,” Lucius said, firmly. “It appears that the Boy-Who-Lived is no longer safely hidden with his relatives. Cornelius had word that he was spotted here, with you.”

Severus snorted. “Does it look like anyone else is staying here?” he demanded. When Lucius briefly glanced away from him to check the room, he was suddenly glad that Potter hadn’t broken the habit of clearing up after himself. Granted, Severus wouldn’t have stood for any mess, anyway, but Potter’s relatives had beaten it into him – all but literally – that nothing was to remain in sight to remind them of him. Their neglectful treatment meant the boy didn’t have much, but what he did have was kept safely and neatly in whatever place he considered his – in this case, the room upstairs.

“Hmm.” Lucius’ cold gaze swung back to the Potions Master. “And of course, if he did end up being foisted upon you—”

“Then of course, I’d take the appropriate actions,” Severus confirmed, making sure his Occulmency shields were firmly in place. If Lucius took his phrasing to mean Severus would be turning the brat over to his . . . friends, well, Severus couldn’t help that, could he.

Lucius smiled, although there was no hint of mirth in it. “Good,” he said, and rose to his feet in a fluid movement. “Oh, I may have some good news for you,” he added, as though he had almost forgotten. Severus wondered if this was the real reason the Malfoy patriarch had come to visit.

“Oh?” he prompted, refusing to move from his chair.

“You may not have to put up with the old fool much longer.” Lucius smirked as he smoothed a hand down his robes, checking for non-existent creases. “Two-thirds of the Board of Directors have . . . agreed with me that it is high time Dumbledore retired.”

“Indeed?” Severus made a note to warn Albus about the shenanigans obviously going on in the background. The Hogwarts Board of Directors were famous for not agreeing on anything – and certainly not unanimously. “Glad tidings indeed. Although I shall believe it when I see it, as Dumbledore is tenacious when it comes to holding on to his power.”

“Oh, he may find that it’s not so easy as he expects. Especially this year.” Lucius inclined his head. “Good day, Severus.” And with a sharp crack!, he was gone.

Annoyingly, Albus did not look nearly so worried as Severus thought he should be at hearing the news that Lucius Malfoy was in some way coercing the Board of Directors to fire him.

“Honestly, my boy, they’ll find it much harder to get rid of me than that,” he tried to reassure Severus from the reformed armchair. “Not to mention that just agreeing to fire me isn’t enough – they’ll need a reason.”

“Oh, of course, because it’s not like they can’t just manufacture one!” Severus said, throwing his hands up in disgust as he paced the living room.

Albus’ laughter stopped him in his tracks. “My dear boy, you’ve not read the Charter, have you?” the headmaster finally managed to splutter out. “They must prove that my remaining in the role is detrimental to the school. Merely disagreeing with me will not suffice. If it did, they would have removed me in my first year!”

Relieved, although he still thought Albus was dismissing it far too easily, Severus sat down in the other armchair, dubiously accepting the cup of tea that Albus conjured for him. To his pleased surprise, it wasn’t as sugar-laden as Albus normally made it.

“I believe you had another reason to invite me here?” Albus asked, a few minutes later.

Severus put the cup aside. “I did,” he agreed. “Potter would like to know if you have anything that belonged to his parents.”

Albus raised his eyebrows, then they lowered into a thoughtful frown. “I know there was a family vault,” he said, finally. “I’m afraid I have no idea what they might have stored in there. In fact, I’m unsure if Harry would even be allowed access to anything in there . . .”

“They left nothing with you?” Severus queried. “What about anything from the house after . . .” His voice trailed off.

“The house and all its contents were almost completely destroyed,” said Albus, regretfully. “The only thing they left with me was James’ Cloak. I had requested it to study, and had not found the opportunity to return it.” A thought suddenly seemed to hit the headmaster, and he tilted his head, his eyes suddenly beginning to twinkle at Severus. “Why the sudden interest, my boy?”

Severus growled at him. “I am not interested,” he stated. “Potter is interested, naturally, in anything his parents might have owned.”

“And I suppose you volunteered to ask, out of the kindness of your heart,” Albus teased. Severus scowled harder. “Speaking of Harry,” Albus continued, “I was hoping to speak to him. I presume you sent him out of Lucius’ way; when do you expect him back?”

At this, Severus shot to his feet in panic. Oh, Merlin, I left Potter in the exhibit case!