Around nine o’clock, Snape emerged from his Potions lab and shooed Ron and Hermione off home. While he had been busy, the two of them and Harry had been discussing plans of action for every possible eventuality they could come up with.

Eventuality Number One: Fudge loses, Voldemort loses, Snape lets Harry get on with his life (the preferred eventuality all around).

No action needed on that one.

Eventuality Number Two: Fudge loses, Voldemort loses, but Snape tries to control Harry himself.

Ron suggested poison. Harry was leaning more towards the ‘fake own death’ idea. Hermione didn’t like either plan. They had decided to come back to that one later.

Eventuality Number Three: Fudge succeeds and tries to pull Harry out of Hogwarts.

Rescue mission followed by changing identities and running away abroad. That plan still needed some fine-tuning.

Eventuality Number Four: Voldemort kills Snape whilst Fudge is still trying to get his claws on Harry.

“That’s easy,” Ron had said, surprising Harry. “I’ll tell Mum and Dad to have adoption papers at the ready. As long as they sign before Fudge gets to, you’ll be fine.”

“I think it might be an idea for more people to be prepared, in case,” Hermione had said thoughtfully. “There’s no guarantee that, if Snape dies, your parents will find out before Fudge does.”

“What do you mean, more people?” Harry had asked, slightly stunned.

“Well, I don’t know how much Snape has filled you in mate, but Dumbledore’s got a whole secret society together. It’s called the Order of the Phoenix, they work against You-Know-Who, did it in the last war too. Mum and Dad are members this time. Lupin is too, and Snape, and McGonagall, and Moody, and Sirius. And a whole bunch of other people …”

Harry was still reflecting on their discussion when Snape cleared his throat loudly, and he realised he had been staring at the fireplace a full minute after his friends had left.

“Oh! Yes, s—Father?”

“I talked with the Headmaster about Black,” Snape said, his lip curling slightly at Sirius’ name. “He agrees it would not be wise for him to pay you a visit.” Harry’s heart sank. “However, Professor Dumbledore did suggest that he could deliver a letter for you so that you can explain the situation honestly.”

Harry brightened. “Great! Um … thanks.” In all honesty he wouldn’t have been surprised if Snape had just ignored his requests.

Snape looked pointedly at the clock. “We didn’t manage to finish going over ground rules. I think the other smaller things are going to have to wait until tomorrow, but I want you in bed by ten, lights out by quarter past. So I suggest you get on and write that letter now, because if Black doesn’t get it tonight he is bound to find out some other way—and I won’t allow that as a reason for you to stay up late to finish it.”

Recognising his dismissal, Harry jumped to his feet. “Okay, I will.” He sped up the stairs.

-

It had been a long day, and Sirius was exhausted. Despite the fact that it was his old bed in his detested parents’ house, his bed—now it had been thoroughly cleaned and made up—looked so inviting. All he wanted to do was crawl inside and go to sleep. But he couldn’t, because Remus was staying with him for the first few nights, so there was another bedroom to get into a liveable state before either of them could get any sleep.

They were in the process of de-moulding a mattress when there was a knock on the door, and they looked up to see Albus in the doorway.

“Albus! Please tell me you’ve come to help,” Sirius half-pleaded.

“I would be happy to,” Albus said, but Sirius’ relief was short-lived as he saw the serious look on his face. “But first, I have some … difficult news.”

“What news?” Remus asked, frowning.

Albus merely held an envelope out to Sirius. He recognised Harry’s hand, addressing it to him, and practically snatched it. “Is Harry all right?”

“He’s … fine.” Sirius didn’t miss the hesitation. “I’m sure he’s explained clearly in the letter …”

Sirius pulled the letter out and unfolded it. Remus leaned over his shoulder to read it as well, looking as worried as Sirius felt.

Dear Sirius,

Okay, this is tricky. I’ve got something to tell you, and I need you not to freak out and do something stupid, please. It’s not the end of the world.

So, apparently Fudge tried to adopt me today—

“What!” Sirius exclaimed.

—which I’m sure you’ll agree would have been really bad, but the only person around who could stop him was Snape, and the only way he could stop him—

“WHAT!” Remus shouted. He had always been a faster reader than Sirius.

— was by adopting me himself.

Sirius spluttered incomprehensively.

We’ve been working out a cover story to stop Fudge from being able to retract it, and agreed to keep things civil—well, to be more precise, we have to pretend to like each other—so it’s not like I’m in danger of being starved or locked up or made into potions ingredients or anything.

Starved? Locked up? Being made into potions ingredients? Where did those come from? Surely Snape didn’t do any of those things to students! Sirius wouldn’t actually have put any of them past the greasy git if he thought he could get away with it—but under Dumbledore’s nose? Not a chance, the man wasn’t that stupid. But maybe the students thought he did anyway? Rumours in Hogwarts could get very … elaborate, after all.

That must be it.

It’s not been a piece of cauldron cake so far, but there’s a few silver linings. I don’t have to change my name. Sirius’ hackles raised at the mere thought of Harry being forced to no longer use his father’s—his real father’s—name. Snape’s actually a pretty good cook. And his house is quite nice, nothing like the dungeons. So really, it could be worse.

Anyway, it’s getting late and I don’t want to piss Father off on my first night (yes, that’s what I have to call him now—it feels just as weird him calling me Harry), so I’ll leave it there. I dunno if Dumbledore’s happy to keep ferrying letters back and forth between us … Anyway, I miss you, and I hope I get to see you sometime soon. But I am okay here, so please don’t try anything silly like trying to break me out or something. It’s not going to be easy but it’s better than the alternative.

Love, Harry

“A-Albus,” Sirius croaked, looking up at the Headmaster. “Isn’t there anything—”

“I can do?” Albus lifted his hands, palms up. “I’m afraid I can’t get Harry out of the situation. The only thing I can do is prepare for the worst-case scenarios. A backup plan will have to be hatched in case the adoption does get revoked. And, as morbid as it sounds, I have advised Severus to update his will so that, in the event of his death, Fudge cannot swoop in.”

“Couldn’t that be overruled?” Remus asked, frowning.

“It’s possible. Which is why I have also, as per Miss Granger’s idea, decided to prepare several sets of adoption papers ready to sign, to be held by members of the Order.”

“Good idea.” Sirius ran his hands through his hair. His head was spinning. He was so tired—was it possible he was asleep, and this was just a nightmare?

Hardly. He didn’t have that kind of luck.

-

Harry had climbed, undressed, into his new bed at ten on the dot, just as the bedroom door opened and Snape looked in.

“Oh.” He sounded surprised, and Harry was sure he was struggling not to comment on the fact that Harry had actually managed to follow the rules for once. He was equally sure that Snape was disappointed he didn’t have an excuse to rebuke him. The man clearly didn’t know what to say instead, and after a moment he withdrew his head and closed the door again.

With a sigh, Harry picked up the book from his bedside table. He had gone back to the library earlier and explored the fiction section properly, picking out Treasure Island since he was already familiar with the story from primary school. He turned to the first chapter.

The door opened again. “Don’t forget, lights out in fourteen minutes.”

“I won’t forget,” Harry promised. The door closed again.

He almost did forget, absorbed in the plot. At the Dursleys’ house, Harry had never dared read any of the books, for they all belonged to Dudley (even if he never touched them). But at his last school, he had found places to hide from Dudley’s gang and read his way, literally, through the whole library. He much preferred stories to reading for academic reasons, and missed them a lot—there wasn’t a lot of choice in the Hogwarts library.

It was only when Harry heard a creak on the stairs, did he get yanked out of his adventure and remember his curfew. Glancing at the clock—quarter past!—he quickly put the bookmark in, placed the book on his bedside table and turned out the lamp. No sooner had he done so than Snape reappeared in the doorway.

“Well.” He sounded impressed now. “Goodnight then, P—Harry.”

“Night … Father.” Harry realised he was still wearing his glasses, and quickly put them on his bedside table.

For some reason, Snape hesitated. Harry watched him, wondering why he wasn’t leaving. Snape seemed to be wrestling with himself. He took a tentative step into the room. Harry was about to ask him if he was all right, when he whirled around and left again, closing the door with a snap.

Harry sighed and closed his eyes, putting the odd action out of his mind. It had been a weird enough day. He was ready to sleep.