CHAPTER 6

Snape's stomach flipped at the thought of his son being the obligatory savior of the wizarding world. Not Harry, please not Harry, a small voice within his mind begged, and a sudden chill stole over his body at the terrible familiarity of the words. It was a phrase he'd heard repeatedly during Harry's failed Occlumency sessions last winter.

Could it only have been last year? It seems like a lifetime ago…

His fingers trembled slightly as he placed the tea cup back in its saucer, making the porcelain rattle in his hands. Clearing his throat, he attempted to calm his raging insides. Stop it! He bellowed internally. Harry won't be alone and unprepared like his mother was! Wrestling his fear into a locked corner of his mind, Snape reminded himself that both he and Dumbledore would be there to prepare and guide Harry during these vital upcoming months.

At least for now…

As close to his chest as Dumbledore liked to hold his secrets, Snape was firm with the headmaster about the fact that he expected to confer with him before any special training sessions with his son. He was determined to make sure that the old coot didn't manipulate Harry into shouldering even more responsibilities that shouldn't be his problem.

He signed, knowing full well that no matter how hard he tried to deny it, this war was Harry's problem. Still, that fact didn't make this conversation any easier. Snape unwillingly met his son's curious gaze. "Yes, the headmaster and I have spoken."

How much to tell him?

As much as he despised keeping Harry in the dark, Snape was keenly aware that he couldn't get too in depth if he wanted to protect his son. Harry hadn't delved into the Dark Lord's thoughts since learning to Occlude earlier this summer, and Snape didn't have to be a master Legilimens to see that his son was relieved at once again being the master of his own mind.

However, that didn't mean that the sudden transformation couldn't – or wouldn't – change in the near future.

Dumbledore had disclosed the previous evening that Draco Malfoy had furtively admitted to being plagued with horrific nightmares. Snape however was convinced they were morethan nightmares, suspecting that the Dark Lord was planting the horrible images in order to keep Draco under his control. Snape feared the nightmares would continue until the boy had completed – or failed – the impossible task he'd been set.

But there was more to the dreaded conversation that had taken place last evening. Dumbledore had confessed to something that Snape had only guessed at, especially after what had happened to the headmaster's hand only weeks ago. Even now, thinking about it made his blood run cold. Dumbledore had finally acknowledged that the cursed ring had been a Horcrux meant to protect the Dark Lord. Even worse, he suspected that the Dark Lord had created not one, but multiple Horcruxes.

After Harry's destruction of the diary down in the Chamber of Secrets and the eradication of the ring at Dumbledore's own gravely injured hand, they couldn't even be sure how many remained. This was the true reason for Harry assisting Dumbledore to retrieve Slughorn, as the headmaster suspected the man could finally provide them with an answer.

But what truly terrified Snape was that even if they were successful in discovering the number of Horcruxes the Dark Lord had created, they had absolutely no way of finding out what those other items could be. Dumbledore had his suspicions. But that was all they were, as nothing could be proven until it was too late – as both Ginny Weasley and Dumbledore himself had established. How is my son supposed to kill the snake bastard when the most powerful wizard of our time couldn't recognize that the ring was hiding a piece of the snake bastard's filthy soul?

The unimaginable task of forever ridding the world of the Dark Lord seemed damned near impossible now, and it had taken hours before his the angry resentment on his son's behalf had abated. Why Harry? He thought furiously. Why not ME– someone with so many sins to atone for?! My son is innocent in this! IT SHOULD BE ME, GOD DAMMIT!

Once the rage had faded, the fear was quick to set in. But this was more than just fear – it was a terror unlike Snape had ever known before, even when Harry's mother had still been alive.

What if the Dark Lord breaks through Harry's shields and discovers that he knows about the Horcruxes…? Snape was well aware that there would be no escaping the Dark Lord after that… And he was also painfully, terribly, exquisitely intimate with the kind of torture that the Dark Lord could inflict upon his son, having witnessed it used repeatedly against the snake bastard's enemies over the years.

Because of this, Snape refused to tell Harry any more than he absolutely needed to know. The wrong information could bring him back into the Dark Lord's deadly crosshairs, and Snape would rather sacrifice himself than see that happen.

So, he wondered as he gazed into those trusting green eyes. How much to tell Harry?

"Dumbledore is attempting to fill my old position as Potions Professor. He has a candidate in mind." Sufficiently vague. He felt no need to tell the boy that this particular candidate was vital to his son's success. Or even to his very survival.

"Dumbledore wants my help to hire a new teacher?" His son asked doubtfully, uncertainty tinging his voice. "Why?"

Why does he have to be so damnably inquisitive? Snape sighed, realizing that keeping Harry safely in the dark this year was going to be harder than he and Dumbledore had anticipated.

"Horace Slughorn taught Potions when I was in school. He is both competent and experienced in the subject."

"So why does Dumbledore need my help getting him back?"

Stubborn, insufferable boy, Snape thought without heat as he gazed at his son.

"Slughorn is… a collector of sorts," he admitted hesitantly. "He likes being well-connected to those in highly regarded circles."

Harry nodded silently, his gaze breaking away as he digested this information. After a moment he quietly asked, "So Dumbledore wants him to collect… me?" Although he wasn't looking at Snape, the boy couldn't hide the distasteful grimace that crossed his face. How was I ever so blind to believe that Harry actually enjoyed being famous?

"Yes," he answered simply. "He would like you to become close to the man." He couldn't bring himself to say more. Not yet...

"Ok," Harry sighed, turning his trusting gaze back to him. Snape felt his gut clench with a foreign feeling as he looked into those unquestioning eyes, and it took him a moment to recognize that squirming emotion as guilt. If Harry knows any more, his life could be in even more danger than it is already, he forcefully reminded himself.

To deflect from the uncomfortable feeling, Snape suddenly announced, "I have a few more gifts for you."

"More?" Harry blurted. "I think you've officially covered the next ten years' worth of presents with the Firebolt Supreme," he added with a lopsided grin.

Although he refused to acknowledge it, Snape couldn't fully eradicate the glowing pleasure that Harry's words ignited within him. The fact that he could make his son that happy was something that he secretly cherished. "Yes, well… Be that as it may," he murmured, "I believe you will find these next gifts to be of more benefit to you during the year." Clearing his throat, he pushed the two unwrapped gifts across the table.

The first was an unassuming wooden container about the size of a small muggle shoebox. The wood was old and grey, the color of bleached driftwood, and the only ornamentation was a simple carving of a series of ancient runes on the hinged lid.

Harry lifted the box in his hands before opening the lid. When he saw that it was empty, he glanced questioningly at Snape.

"It's called a Vanishing Box. This is how we can privately communicate with one another throughout the year." He went on to explain how it functioned, including the particular incantation that needed to be spoken in order to make it work. "I have the box's twin in a drawer of my new office. Anytime you need to speak to me, simply write it out on parchment and send it through. The runes on my own box will emit a soft glow to alert me when I have a message from you, as will yours when you have a message from me."

Snape didn't believe it was possible, but Harry gazed even more deferentially at the box than he had at his new broom. "Wow Dad," he mumbled, emotion thick in his voice. "I… This is…" His eyes were wet behind his glasses, and he blinked repeatedly as he raised his gaze to meet Snape's own. "Thank you."

Nothing more needed to be said. Snape understood perfectly.

"Just wait until you see this next present," Lily murmured beside Harry. "I think it's the main reason I've been able to learn so much over these last few weeks." Snape made an impatient noise in his throat, but Lily was quick to assure, "Really!"

And with a curious look, Harry carefully placed the Vanishing Box aside and reached for an old, battered copy of Advanced Potion Making by Libatius Borage. The binding was so worn that each page lay perfectly level and flat, and he watched his son's brows furrow in confusion as he flipped through the book.

Harry quickly reached the back cover and glanced up at him through his fringe. "The Half-Blood Prince…" He seemed to be chewing the inside of his lip as he once again dropped his gaze to study the name. After a moment he slowly asked, "Wasn't there a painting in your study–?"

"Back at Spinner's End, yes. The painting was entitled 'Prince Manor'." Snape didn't bother to hide his pleasure at the boy's keen memory and observation.

"So does that mean…?"

"Indeed. I am the Half-Blood Prince." When Harry's head snapped up at him in astonishment, Snape drawled, "Does that surprise you?"

"Only to hear it was you who defiled this innocent book," Harry snapped in a playfully mocking tone. "Madam Pince would have you whipped." He flipped again through pages that were almost black due to the notes and annotations in every available space.

Snape gave a cocky half-smile. "You can thank me later." Straightening in his seat, he leaned toward Harry with a serious look. "That book will teach you everything that I was unable to over the summer – all you must do is follow my amended instructions. Do that, and I guarantee you will receive an 'Outstanding' in your Potions N.E.W.T. and be well on your way to becoming an Auror."

Blinking as he sat back, he suddenly realized that giving Harry his book was considered cheating in every sense of the word. But Snape couldn't bring himself to feel the least bit guilty over that fact. After all, he thought as he watched his son regretfully. You'll have more important things to be worrying about this year than your Potions grade.

Harry's voice softened when he met his father's solemn regard. "I don't know what to say… Thank you, Dad. For everything."

.:HP::SS:HP::SS:.

Harry opened his eyes the next morning feeling surreally out of place. Gryffindor Tower just didn't hold that feeling of home that it once had. That title was now embodied by people instead of a place, and he sighed once again at the thought of how everything was about to change. He wasn't ready, but Harry knew he didn't have a choice.

As expected he, Hermione, and Ron had stayed up in the Common Room discussing what Dumbledore had only hinted at the night before. But the unfortunate truth was that they could only guess at the headmaster's aims, and so they'd eventually given it up as a lost cause and gone to bed.

Waking up in his old four-poster in Gryffindor Tower was a bittersweet experience. He was relieved to have Ron and Neville nearby, able to distract and even make him laugh with their ridiculous antics – something that Harry hadn't expected after his bitter resentment of his current circumstances. But he realized that it only made him even more grateful for his friends.

"Don't worry, Neville," Ron grinned at the other boy as he changed his shirt for the third time. "Nothing you put on is going to fix that ugly mug."

"Better than that rumpled old dishrag you're wearing," Neville smirked in retaliation.

"What?" Ron quipped, gazing down to inspect himself. After a moment he turned to Harry and asked, "This looks ok, doesn't it?"

"Err…"

Harry and Neville both laughed as Ron grumbled and pulled his wrinkled shirt over his head, tossing it haphazardly into his trunk.

Yawning as they playfully shoved one another down the stairs towards the Common Room, the boys stopped short when they saw that an entire breakfast feast had been laid out on one of the long tables in front of the window. Harry suspected that Dobby had something to do with that surprise, and reminded himself to thank the house elf the next time they saw him.

Hermione and Ginny were in the middle of a quiet conversation over their plates of bangers and eggs. Harry couldn't help noticing the strands of gold in Ginny's hair that were highlighted by the morning sun streaming through the window beside her. Dragging his gaze away, he grinned as he noticed that Luna was dreamily inspecting the exposed wooden beams crisscrossing the high ceiling above them.

"That looks like maple wood," she muttered to no one in particular. "More than likely there's an infestation of Dabberblimps in here… No wonder Gryffindors have such a difficult time following the rules. Oh, hello Neville! You look very debonair this morning."

"Thanks, Luna," Neville mumbled as his cheeks bloomed with red. "You look really nice, too." The other boy seemed to glow with a strange mixture of shyness and pride, and as he nervously slid onto the bench beside Luna, Harry couldn't help feeling a tad jealous at his friend's bravery. Harry was well aware that he hadn't the faintest idea how to talk to girls, and didn't see that fact changing any time soon.

Sitting down to eat, Harry's gaze unintentionally found its way back to a smiling Ginny. Tying her hair back into a messy ponytail, the freckles across the bridge of her nose stood out as she grinned and asked the table at large, "So… Anyone up for a pickup game of Quidditch?"

"Of course!" Harry beamed.

"I ge' da Firebowl," Ron was quick to interject.

"Don't talk with your mouth full," Ginny chided. With a glint of competition shinning behind her eyes she murmured, "And we'll see who gets the Firebolt."

Sometime later, a peevish Ron found himself riding one of the school's old Comet Three-Sixties. While Ginny had blocked every one of her brother's goal shots, she had been able to get four through Ron. Ginny was only too happy to jump onto the Firebolt and speed across the pitch in celebration.

"But… But…" Ron whimpered.

"You did say winner gets the Firebolt," Harry reminded him with a grin.

"Hey!" Ron shouted as Harry sped off on the Supreme. "Whose side are you on?"

Hours later the group had yet to tire of Quidditch. They laughed hysterically at one another while playing games with ridiculous rules to make up for the fact that there were so few of them. Luna was surprisingly good as Seeker, and Harry supposed all that idle daydreaming noticing the minute details more than likely made her extremely good at finding the tiny snitch. He would definitely encourage her to join the Ravenclaw team when school started.

Hermione and Neville were the first to tire of the games, seeing as both of them were terrified of flying more than ten feet off the ground. He smiled as he hovered above them, watching as they sat talking quietly with each other in the stands. After seeing the interest Hermione had expressed in the healing essential oils yesterday, Harry had a pretty good idea what they were discussing.

Lily and Jillian made an appearance around noon, with a small picnic basket in the crook of Lily's arm. They all flew down to them in greeting, with Hermione and Neville stepping from the staircase in the stands a minute later.

"Hi!" Jilly chirped excitedly. "Want some lunch? We brought peanut butter, banana, and honey!" Grasping Harry's hand, she hauled him to the blanket Lily was busy spreading on the grass at the edge of the pitch.

"That sounds great," Harry said with a laugh.

As Lily settled next to him and began to unloaded the food, it turned out that along with the sandwiches, they also had an entire five course picnic meal packed into the small basket – all courtesy of Dobby and the rest of the kitchen house elves.

"How did all of that fit in there?" Hermione asked as she curiously inspected the brown wicker container.

"Who cares?" Ron asserted. "Can you hand me three sandwiches, a brioche turnover, and a fruit tart?" Hermione rolled her eyes as she handed over enough food to feed the Forbidden Forest's entire Centaur herd. But as Ron bit into his first peanut butter sandwich, he made a noise of appreciation and said, "Danks fo' da food, Liwy! Vewy doughtfoo."

"Yes, thank you!" everyone echoed.

"Our pleasure," Lily said with a warm smile at the group. "But it's really Dobby and the house elves that packed everything." As she carefully placed a soup tureen in the middle of the blanket she murmured, "They sure don't do anything by half-measures, do they?"

"No, they don't," Hermione answered with a fond smile, which Harry was sure would not be reciprocated to her by many of the little creatures. Hermione didn't say anything about S.P.E.W. however, and continued curiously inspecting the basket in her lap. "I wonder if they used the same kind of extension charm that was on the tent we stayed in during the Quidditch World Cup…?" She murmured to herself.

"You're so smart, Hermione." Jilly gazed admiringly at the older girl. "I wish you and Rem– I mean, Professor Lupin – could be my teachers!"

"Your teacher?" Harry questioned as he lowered his sandwhich, his interest piqued. "Remus is going to be your teacher?"

"Jilly needed a tutor since we're going to be living here full time," Lilly explained. "Remus came highly recommended by Albus. He's a magnificent teacher, he's very patient–"

"And the best part is that another girl is coming, too!" Jillian interrupted animatedly, overflowing with eager excitement.

"Another girl?" Harry asked in confusion, directing his question toward Lily.

"Minerva has a granddaughter Jilly's age that lives on the continent with her mother and father," Lily replied. "Minerva's son and daughter-in-law have agreed to send her to Hogwarts so that Jilly won't be alone here. She arrives the day after tomorrow."

"I'm so excited!" Jillian squealed. "Her name is Celine. I can't wait to meet her!"

The group of teenagers smiled at the girl's enthusiasm. In particular, Harry was happy to know that Remus would not only have steady employment, but would also be here at Hogwarts. As bittersweet as it was going to be acting like Snape was not his father, it was a balm knowing that his friends and family weren't far away.

Lily seemed to sense he was thinking of Snape. Leaning closer to him she murmured, "Your dad was going to come, but his meeting with Albus is taking longer than expected. He wants to spend as much time as possible with you before school starts." Squeezing his hand she noted, "It wasn't the same without you in the tower."

The edge of Harry's mouth crooked into a sad half smile. "I know what you mean…"

"Severus will be moving back to his quarters again soon. I don't know what I'm going to do when it's just Jilly and I," she lamented, gazing across at her daughter, who was now deep in conversation with a smiling Ginny.

"Well… Where is Celine going to be staying?" Harry asked. "I know Professor McGonagall gets busy during the year, what with her classes and extra duties as Head of House, not to mention the fact that she's Deputy Headmistress. Maybe Celine could stay with you and Jilly in one of the tower rooms."

"You know, that's not such a bad idea. I'll mention it to Minerva next time I see her." Her eyes glowed as she glanced at Harry. "Thanks."

"You're welcome," Harry replied. It was good to think that the girls wouldn't be all alone. Still so strange having people other than my friends to care about, he thought appreciatively as a genuine smile spread across his face.

But he didn't have long to contemplate the fact, for at that moment Jillian enthusiastically called out, "Will you take me for lap around the pitch on your new broom, Harry?"

"Oh, well… Err…"

He glanced questioningly at Lily, who looked back over her shoulder at the castle before she leaned conspiratorially toward the rest of the group and playfully winked, "The Dungeon Bat's not here, so I say have at it."

The others leapt excitedly to their feet, including an ecstatically whooping Jillian. As they made their way toward the brooms still on the pitch, Harry grinned as he heard Ron snicker behind him and say, "She called him 'the Dungeon Bat'. I knew I liked her!"