Severus turned back into a human. “This”, he hissed. “Was an utter and complete waste of my time. I told you nothing good would come from it.”

“I do not really see your problem”, Dumbledore replied, his eyes twinkling, a sure sign that he was barely suppressing his laughter. “You have, successfully, become an animagus. No mean feat. Why, there are only seven registered animagi in all of Britain – eight, now.”

“Seven. I will not register this – this embarrassment! I absolutely refuse to!” Severus crossed his arms in front his chest. “And as I told you before, it is not the work or intelligence required that puts people off becoming animagi, it is the utter uselessness of approximately ninety percent of all animagus forms. As evidenced by my own.”

“Uselessness? Ah, Severus, you never know, you never know.” Dumbledore looked at him over the rim of his half-moon glasses, eyes twinkling, edges of his mouth clearly twitching now.

Oh, how Severus hated him!

“It is weak – it will not give me any advantage in a fight. It is not inconspicious enough for spying, but manages to be humiliatingly common despite that. And it does not even make up for all this by being capable of flight. There is no possible use to this animagus form.”

“All in all, I would say, you are not worse off than Minerva”, Dumbledore said in a fake soothing tone. Severus could almost hear him chuckle in his mind. “Her animagus form is rather small, too.”

“Minerva can at least use her form for spying”, Severus replied coldly. “And impress her students.” Even he, already rather cynical at Hogwarts age, had been impressed when she had turned into a cat.

Now he envied her. A cat. Nothing was wrong with cats. They were dignified animals that didn’t draw attention anywhere. No one would look twice at a tabby cat. Even though she was registered, Minerva would still be able to spy unnoticed on a lot of people.

He would not have complained had he become his patronus form. Sure, a doe would stand out like a sore thumb in most places, but it was an elegant animal with some dignity, and sometimes, even the Forbidden Forest was a location where a spy could be needed – not that the Quirrell debacle was likely to repeat itself.

Admittedly, changing his sex might have been slightly disturbing, but probably not much more so than changing species, if at all, so there was that.

“It has its downsides, too”, Dumbledore replied after some deliberation. “Do not tell her I told you, but she confided in me that a clueless Muggelborn first-year once attempted to pet her when she was sunbathing in that nice spot between greenhouses two and three.”

“I am sure she can cope.” Severus turned to leave. There was only so much taunting he was willing to endure.

“Severus.” Dumbledore didn’t raise his voice. He knew he didn’t have to.

Severus turned. “You want something else. What is it?”

“An important mission. I will leave it to you whether you use your animagus form or not.”

He had not been asked to do anything remotely like a mission since the Dark Lord’s fall. Keeping an eye on Quirrell ... and the more and less suspicious Defense Against the Dark Arts teachers before him, he could do while remaining at Hogwarts and could hardly be considered a mission. “You have a lead on the whereabouts of the Dark Lord?” His knowledge of the prophecy didn’t keep him from hoping he might be the one to end Lily’s murderer. After all, Divination was a rather imprecise science.
Severus had thought the prophecy to mean that a powerful wizard would ‘approach’ from Europe or the Americas, and that the Dark Lord would set him on researching the birth dates of wizards of note, a nice, unbloody task that would ensure he was unavailable for killing and torturing.
He would regret that naive assumption till his dying day.

In the meantime, he learnt that whenever someone in power – which lately had only meant Dumbledore – wanted him to do something, he could expect, at best, humiliation, and would risk his life at the other end of the scale.

No, Severus’ existence only held nasty surprises. If he wanted to spend time with nice, safe, if boring research of useless facts, he had to do that on his scarce spare time.

“You still long for revenge more than you wish for redemption?”

“I cannot redeem myself.” Lily was dead. He could never undo that. “Revenge is the best I can hope for.” He couldn’t stand that disappointed gaze the old wizard gave him. “Do you not wish to prevent the death of innocents at the Dark Lord’s hands, too?”, he added.

“I do. And as luck would have it, what I need you to do will further, albeit indirectly, both your thirst for revenge and our goal to protect innocents.”

“How so?”

“I have received reports of ... disturbing things happening in Privet Drive.”

“Privet Drive?” He had never heard the name, but it spoke for itself. One of those streets that had been named, not by tradition, but by someone with zero creativity. He decided at once that he hated the place.

“The place where Lily’s son lives.”

Lily’s son. He felt a twinge in his heart. The old manipulator only ever called Potter that when he needed Severus to protect him. Obviously in the vain hope that it would distract him from the fact that Potter junior was an almost perfect copy of Potter senior.

“Potter is doing illegal magic?” Wasn’t that the ministry’s job to handle? Perhaps Dumbledore wanted Severus there because he knew the Ministry, especially Fudge, would be much too soft on Potter ... a mistake Severus certainly wouldn’t commit.

“Allegedly, yes, but that is not the problem. My contacts in the Ministry tell me there was a hover charm performed there – hardly dangerous, and apparently the only thing that was harmed was a dessert with sugared violets. No, what I am worried about are the bars that appeared on one of the bedroom windows. Upstairs, no less.”

Using a hover charm to ruin a dessert was, Severus had to admit, rather harmless, considering a Potter was involved. Giving the boy house arrest for so long that it was worth it putting bars on the window the muggle way did seem rather excessive. But of course, this was Potter. He might have done worse and found a way to deceive the Ministry ...

“I take it you want me to look into that?” Neither Dumbledore nor Fudge would ever allow Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived to be expelled from Hogwarts, but a man could dream. He would investigate what Potter had done, and then ... well.

“Discreetly, and fast. And please do not let your prejudice against the boy cloud your judgement. If he is in any imminent danger from his relatives, remove him immediately. If not, gather as much information as you can and report back to me.”

“His relatives?”

“Harry lives with his aunt and her husband. I think you remember Petunia?”

“Regrettably.” That made things a lot more difficult. He had felt sorry for the people who had to live with Potter, but now that he knew one of them was Petunia ... if anyone deserved Potter, it was her.

He couldn’t feel the slightest bit sorry for the destruction of her dessert.

“I will give you the adress.”

Severus inclined his head. “Under one condition. If I find out the boy did anything to warrant his apparent punishment ... you will not intervene on his behalf.”

“If his relatives merely grounded him, I will not intervene in any case. If, however, this is only an outward sign of physical violence ... ” Dumbledore shook his head. “Harry is, overall, an obedient boy. He served his punishment last year without complaints – unlike young Draco, I am told. Had he been forbidden from leaving the house for a week or two, there would be no need to put bars on his window.”

Severus decided not to mention that any sensible child would refuse to go into the Forbidden Forest at night, only accompanied by a half-giant of questionable intelligence. If he had known what Minerva intended, he would have intervened. “Very well.”

The flying car landed, the doors opened, and Harry stumbled outside. He almost couldn’t believe it – he had really escaped the Dursleys!

In the dim morning light, he couldn’t see that well, but what he could see was wonderful. In its own way, the Weasleys’ house seemed as magical as Hogwarts. Much smaller, of course, but the parts seemed to be held together by just some wood and magic.

And it was wonderfully chaotic, something that always made him feel safe in a strange way – it meant that no Dursley could be near.

Looking around with wonder, he barely heard what Fred was explaining. “... wait until Mum calls us to breakfast ...”

Breakfast. Harry’s stomach growled. „Um, when do you usually eat breakfast?“, he asked. He could last two more hours without breakfast, but he somewhat hoped they ate really early.

“They sent you to bed without dinner?” Ron sounded horrified. Harry wondered what he would say if he knew Harry hadn’t had a decent meal for three days.

Fred started digging around in his pockets. “Wait – I think I might have a toffee here, one of our experiments, your hair might turn blue, but nothing too bad ... we eat breakfast at eight, that’s a couple of hours ... here.” He handed Harry some sweets, wrapped in plain grease-proof paper.

“Thanks” Harry slowly put one toffee in his mouth, trying to not appear too greedy. He was so hungry.

The last thing he noticed was that the world seemed to grow larger and larger.



Ron stared at his best friend in horror. Harry shrunk and shrunk, his face and body morphed, until all that was left was a tiny bird with mostly fluffy white feathers plus a mop of unruly black feathers on his head.

“Fred you idiot! That was our Chick Confectionary!”

“I thought it was Tinting Toffee!”

“Turn Harry back!”, Ron yelled. “I don’t care if you get into trouble for doing magic, you can’t let Harry stay a chicken!”

Fred shrugged, looking sheepish. “Er, well, the thing is, we don’t really have perfected the antidote yet ...”

“What?!”

“Change of plan”, George said gloomily. “Fred, you take care of the car, we go inside and wake Mum immediately.”

The Harry-chick cheeped unhappily.

“I stay with Harry.” Ron dropped to his knees in front of the chick. He wished he had been more interested in chickens before now.
All he knew about tiny chicks was that they were very fragile. Fred had stepped on one, once, and it hadn’t been a pretty sight.

Could he risk grabbing Harry? Or would he break him?

He held out his palm. “Harry? You remember me, right? Come here, sit on my hand.“


Yet Harry-the-Chick ignored him in favour of a fat brown hen that was approaching them.

He waddled towards her. “Cheep?”

Ron had a sudden, uneasy feeling in his stomach. Somehow, this didn’t seem quite right.

It should feel right. Harry was a chick now, he would follow the hen, and Ron could grab the hen and carry her into the house, Harry would be safely away from the gnomes and the Jarvey and other nasty creatures, problem solved.

So why did he have this feeling of impending doom?

The hen stared at Harry with her reddish chicken eyes. The next thing Ron saw was the hen’s beak rapidly approaching Harry’s fragile little chick head.


Before it could make contact, two things happened.

A silent, snowy-white predator descended from the sky and grabbed the hen.

A dark shadow swooped down from the garage roof.

“Hedwig!” Thank all gods and goddesses, Hedwig still remembered who Harry was.

Or she was just very, very hungry and had decided she wanted a fat hen for breakfast, not a tiny chick.

When Ron looked at Harry again, the black chicken that had come from the garage roof was standing between the tiny chick and another brown hen that had approached.

The cold stare the black chicken gave the brown reminded Ron of something, but he couldn’t quite pinpoint of what. It spread its black wings in a threatening manner.

Finally, the brown hen backed down.

Harry-the-Chick didn’t make a sound, he looked rather panicked, but perhaps that was just Ron’s imagination.

He put his hand between the black chicken’s beak and Harry, just to be on the safe side.

„Cluck.“ The black chicken placed one of its wings over Harry.

Ron eyed it sceptically. This chicken acted more like it should, but he would remain wary, after the murder attempt Hedwig had prevented.

Hedwig seemed to share his opinion. She had perched on a nearby tree, the offending hen nowhere to be seen.

“If this is another one of your pranks, George, you will be grounded until school starts again, and then some!”

Mum! “It’s not a prank”, he said quickly. „You have to help Harry! One of the damn chickens almost murdered him!”


„It’s not a prank“, Fred said, emerging from the garage. “Look, here’s Harry’s school trunk and his broom, and his owl must be here somewhere, too.”


“Then where is this chick you turned him into?”, his mother demanded.

“Right here – I think the black hen adopted him, that’s really lucky, I think the other one wanted to kill him”, Ron explained.

That got him a glare. “The black hen is a rooster. As you would know if you didn’t always find excuses to get out of feeding the chickens.”

“Ginny likes feeding them! Anyway, he’s somewhere ... there.“

The black chicken lifted its wing just enough so they could see the chick.

“Yes, there, look, he even still somewhat looks like himself.”

“Alright then.” Mum sighed. Ron had the sinking feeling that she wouldn’t be able to help. “Fred, George, you write a letter to your Professor McGonagall, tell her what you have done and beg her for help. I will not turn up at St. Mungos and tell them I have a chicken that used to be Harry Potter. The poor boy would never hear the end of it.”

“Professor McGonagall will think it was a prank! Why don’t you write the letter?”

“Because you have pranked me one too many times. I will not make a fool of myself. Write that letter. Now. I am sure you can convince her you are serious.”

“And what about Harry? It is no prank, I swear, Mum!“

“Harry seems to be safe for the moment. Happily adopted, by the look of it.”

“But you said that’s a rooster.” And now Ron remembered that Mum had often had hens with chicks in the kitchen to keep them away from the rooster for fear he would attack them. Or perhaps she had also said the other hens might be dangerous? Ron wished he had paid more attention.

“He must be one of this exotic breed Pandora said she wanted to get. She gushed over how protective the roosters of that breed are of their chicks ... I guess one of them decided to visit our chickens.”

She took some kernels of wheat from her apron pocket and held them in her hand. “Come here, that’s a good boy, just a bit closer ...” She threw some of the wheat to the floor.

The rooster followed her, paused over the wheat, pecked at it once, moved a bit further, waited, followed her some more. Occasionally, Ron heard a quiet sound made by Harry-the-chick.

After repeating the process three times, the rooster and chick entered the house.

Ron carefully closed the door after them.

“What now?”

“Now I prepare some food for those two. You make sure no one steps on them.” She left for the kitchen and left Ron in the sitting room.

Ron sat on the floor and watched. The black rooster was giving him the creeps. It didn’t peck the floor or crow or do anything chickenlike. It just stood there and glared at him with its entirely black eyes.

Even its comb was black, which was why Ron hadn’t noticed it was a rooster before. He wasn’t that clueless!

After what seemed like an eternity, the rooster finally moved, and Ron could see Harry again.

He held out his hand. “Come on, just sit on my hand, you’d be safer there.”

“Cluck!” The rooster had managed to throw one of the threadbare cushions from the sofa and now sat on it like it was some kind of nest.

“Cheep?” Harry-the-Chick hurried towards him and vanished beneath the black feathers again.

Ron walked towards the cushion and very, very slowly picked it up and carefully placed it on the sofa again.

The rooster just glared, but didn’t attack.

Before long, Mum returned with a small dish full of some kind of mash with orange and green pieces in it. “Ron, they’re not exactly safer on the sofa.”

“Where was I supposed to put them? The table?”

“Yes. Accio.” An empty cardboard box floated towards her, she put it on the table, put the dish with the chicken feed into it, and then pointed her wand at the cushion.

It hovered in the air and landed inside the cardboard box.

“Tuck!” The rooster took some of the feed in his beak and let it fall again.

Ron supposed he didn’t like it much.

Harry-the-Chick came out from under his wing and pecked at the feed excitedly. He must still be hungry.

“What a well behaved rooster. I wonder if Xenophilius will let me keep him.”

“He’s kinda creepy, don’t you think?”

“Just because he’s black?”

“Black feathers are all nice and good, but that the rest of him is black too ... you can’t tell me that’s normal.”

“It is perfectly normal for that breed.”

“And he doesn’t make any sounds.“

“Don’t be silly, Ronald. He made a sound just now.”

“But only one! Normal chickens are always noisy! And what kind of rooster doesn’t even crow at sunrise?”

“They’re probably a rather calm breed. He is, of course, not a normal chicken, Pandora would never have been content with run-of-the-mill chickens. She was always experimenting.”

Ron felt vaguely uneasy, not knowing what to say. He remembered when Mrs. Lovegood had died. Mum had gotten an owl and gone all pale and quiet, and then she had gone to the Lovegoods to help – though Ron wasn’t entirely sure why they needed help. Perhaps she had had to teach Mr. Lovegood how to cook, considering they had eaten three slightly burned meals that week before Dad had figured it out.

“Oh, the rooster hasn’t eaten anything. I’ll get more.“

“Why don’t you just put him outside with our chickens, Mum? Now that we have Harry here and all.”

“I do suppose it would be safer”, she agreed. “But I’ll have to look up the chick warming spells Pandora gave me – he looks like barely a few days old, they can’t keep themselves warm at that age - and Harry might be lonely without any other chickens here ...”

Fortunately, Mum also remembered to feed Ron, and when she next returned from the kitchen more feed for Harry and the rooster, she also brought some food.

Before long, Ginny entered the kitchen.

She stared with wide eyes when Ron explained that the chick was Harry.

Then she climbed on the table to have a better view. “He’s so sweet!”, she gushed. “Much nicer than our rooster, Mum, can we keep him?”

At least she wasn’t talking about Harry. Still, it was embarrassing. They said people who were transformed into animals didn’t remember being animals later, but what if that wasn’t true, or if Fred and George had managed to invent something that changed that?

Ron really hoped Harry wouldn’t remember Ginny.

“He doesn’t eat anything, is he sick?”

“Let me see, dear.” Mum peered into the cardboard box. “He’s still trying to get the chick to eat more.”

“Harry must be very hungry. His relatives sent him to bed without dinner.”

“That sounds more believable than George’s story about them putting bars on Harry’s window.”

“Well, they were there!”

“Where?”, Ginny asked.

Ron had to explain everything, pretending that Harry had somehow slipped through the bars and escaped on his own, of course – they were in enough trouble already.

When he had finished, the rooster had finally started eating, and Fred and George had written their letter and went outside to send it with Hedwig.

“Sure she’ll listen to you?”, Mum asked. “I can ask Percy if we can use Hermes, it is, after all, an emergency.”

“She is Harry’s owl, isn’t she?”

“And I bet she is a very happy owl right now”, Ron admitted. „She, uh, might be eating one of our chickens. The hen who tried to murder Harry.”

Before they could discuss it more, Hedwig flew through an open window, circled through the room and let something fall over the box Harry was in.

“Ewww, a dead mouse!”

“She’s trying to feed Harry!” Ginny exclaimed. “How sweet!“

The rooster didn’t seem to approve, though, it grabbed the mouse with its feet and let it fall outside the box before returning.

Hedwig was, indeed, easily persuaded to take a letter to Professor McGonagall. After giving the rooster a look that seemed to say ‘Harm a feather on his head and you’ll be lunch’, she took off.


Not long after that, the rooster began to peck at the empty feed dish. Ginny took it out of the box.

The rooster responded by climbing out of the box, leaving Harry-the-chick behind.

Ron peered inside the box. “You alright, mate?”

„Cheep!“

“Does that mean yes? Hey!” Ron tried to shoo the rooster away from his glass of pumpkin juice, but the creepy animal didn’t back away.

“He’s thirsty!”, Ginny declared.

“Oh dear, of course he is! I should have given them water. They don’t have a pond in here, after all.” Mum hurried to fetch some water.

“Cheep? Cheep?“ Harry seemed rather unhappy, but Ron wasn’t sure why.

„Cluck.“ The rooster went back into the box – was it normal that chickens could fly that well? Ron wasn’t even sure he had seen one do more than just move its wings a bit.

Harry-the-chick immediately ran to hide under the rooster’s wing again.

A saucer full of water was carefully placed in the box, and Ron watched closely. The demonic rooster didn’t drink any of it!

It dipped its beak in it all right, but then it just said “Tuck!” in a commanding tone, which caused the Harry-chick to peek out from between the black feathers and drink some.

“Oh, they’re so cute!”, Ginny cooed.

“Hey! That’s Harry you are talking about!”

“Well, he is cute!” Ginny insisted, then blushed a deep red. At least she seemed to be properly ashamed!


It wasn’t long before Dad got home, carrying an exhausted Errol in his hand.

The black rooster made a strange vibrating sound that caused Harry to stop drinking and hide under his wing.

“What a night”, Dad mumbled and collapsed in an armchair, placing Errol on the armrest. “Everything alright, Molly, dear? Something seems off.”

“Nothing is alright. Fred and George have gone and turned Harry into a chicken, if they are to be believed. And I have to say, this chick does look a lot like him.”

“A chick? Could you turn him back?“

„They used a potion of their own design, and I am not going to risk Harry’s wellbeing by trying to undo that. Professor McGonagall will hopefully know what to do. Meanwhile, we keep him in this cardboard box.”

“If it was a potion”, Dad said, closing his eyes and placing his glasses in his lap. “Then perhaps we should consult a potions professor.”

“A potions professor?” Ron knew only one, and he definitely didn’t want him to be anywhere near a Harry who had been turned into a chick.

“A splendid idea, Arthur. Yes, I do think you should write a letter to Professor Snape, don’t you agree, Fred?”

Ron was really glad he wasn’t responsible for this mess. Mum must be really angry.

“It is a transfiguration. I am sure McGonagall can turn him back, no need to - ”

“Professor McGonagall”, Mum corrected Fred sharply. “What did I do wrong with you two? Nothing but disrespect for your parents and teachers!”

“Now, now, Molly, they are good boys - ”

“Good boys don’t turn younger boys into chicks!”

“It was an accident, Mum! We’d never harm Harry - ”

“Did you make sweets that would turn anyone who eats them into a chick or not? It was only a matter of time until anyone ate it – really, we are lucky it happened while someone was watching!”

“I’m sorry!”

“You will be even more sorry when Professor McGonagall arrives!”


That prediction turned out to be completely true.

Ron had never seen the professor that angry. There was no telling how long she’d have rebuked Fred, and to a lesser degree George, if she hadn’t been distracted by poor Harry’s condition.

She performed some spells on Harry-the-chick, confirmed that the chick was really a young wizard, and said she couldn’t turn him back. “Polyjuice potion is not meant for transformations into animals!”, she scolded. “I have no idea how to reverse this mess.”

“We didn’t use Polyjuice.” George didn’t sound like he was even trying to defend himself anymore. “We, um, modified it a bit. It should be reversible, but we haven’t really tested it on anything but garden gnomes and they didn’t turn back, so ...”

“Do you have a sample of this unholy concoction? Professor Snape might be able to figure out how to reverse it. Might. And he will not be happy.”

Ron suddenly realized what the black rooster reminded him of. He did look a lot like Snape.

Well, except that Snape wouldn’t give anyone his custom glare for attacking Harry. And he certainly wouldn’t try and get Harry to eat. But apart from that ...

If Snape ate one of those chicken sweets, he’d probably look exactly like the black rooster.

Fred handed McGonagall one of the sweets.

She pocketed it and nodded. “I shall take Harry with me and consult with the headmaster.”


“Harry stays here”, Mum said firmly. “You don’t know a lot about chickens, do you?”

“I will have you know that I grew up in the countryside”, Professor McGonagall replied. “Though admittedly ... my knowledge might not be up to date. For example I did not know you could get roosters to care for chicks.”

“He’s probably an exotic breed. You know, Pandora was always so enthusiastic about trying new things ... so far he has been doing really well, and Harry would be upset without any other chickens around, and he’d be cold, too, so I think we should keep them both here. I haven’t ever had a mother hen turn against her chicks after feeding and warming them, so I don’t think there is much risk.”

“Hrrmph. Professor Snape will not enjoy having to visit here, I can tell you that much. May I use your floo?”

Her attempt to firecall Snape failed, much to Ron’s relief.

She did, however, succeed in contacting Dumbledore, who soon stood in their sitting room, wearing a dressing gown decorated with moons and stars.

“Well”, he said after the situation had been explained to him. “That could have been worse.”

“How on earth could that have been worse?!” Mum said, and Professor McGonagall looked like the only reason she didn’t ask Dumbledore if he had gone mad was that she didn’t want to do it in front of the students.

“I fully trust Professor Snape to handle the situation”, Dumbledore said calmly. “Harry will not come to any harm, and, in all probability, will not even remember what happened after we turn him back.”

“What about that rooster? I don’t trust him, he looks creepy.”

“Ah, of course. You are right, Ronald, I should make sure this rooster is, in fact, not a danger to Harry. It will not harm the chick if I borrow that rooster for a short while, Molly?”

“I daresay he will be alright for a couple of minutes, but do hurry. ”

Dumbledore held out his arm and the rooster hopped onto it as if it had been trained. “Is there somewhere I can conduct an experiment without being in the way? Your garage, perhaps?”

“I’m sorry, it is rather untidy in there ...” Dad got up.

“You should see my office during the summer holidays! No reason to be ashamed of a bit of creative chaos, I am sure. Don’t inconvenience yourself on my account, I am sure I will find the way.”

Dumbledore walked out of the door, carrying the rooster on his arm as if it was an owl, or his pet phoenix.



“Cheep?” Harry tried to hide under the cushion in his box.

“Poor thing, you must be cold.” Ginny put her hand in the box and petted Harry and – he snuggled into her hand!

Ron really, really hoped Harry wouldn’t remember any of this. And perhaps Dumbledore would modify Ginny’s memory so she didn’t remember, either?

“He really does look like himself. Look, his eyes are green! I’ve never seen a chick with green eyes!”

“Good work, Severus, very good!”

Severus looked to make sure they weren’t being spied on, turned back into a man and put some spells on the building so that no one could see or hear them inside. “I hate you.”

“Cheerful as ever. Now, what do you suggest?”

“You tell them the rooster is tainted by dark magic – that’s not even a lie – and I will return to my laboratory to figure out a cure. Where is the sample?”

Dumbledore handed it to him, and Severus smelled it. Ah. “When creating their potion, the twin brats obviously didn’t take into consideration that bicorn horn would interact with the daisy roots to create a more permanent transfiguration. An antidote will need to contain wormwood and -” He stared at Dumbledore, who had conjured a pergament and quill. “Why are you writing this down?” Such unusual behaviour didn’t bode well.

„I will attempt to brew the antidote. You do remember that I am rather adept at potions myself, do you?”

“You do not trust me with Potter’s health?” It stung, to know that Dumbledore still didn’t fully trust him. He hated Potter, yes, but he was a man of his word, Dumbledore ought to know that by now.

“Quite the opposite, dear boy, I trust you to come up with an antidote much faster than I ever could, which is why I write down your suggestions to use in my work. In the meantime, I think I can leave Harry in your capable hands. Respectively, wings. You are the only one I trust with his safety.”

“You can’t be serious!” But he knew well that Dumbledore was entirely serious. “That girl tried to pet me!”

“I am sure you can cope. Now, where were we?”

Severus reluctantly dictated his theories to Dumbledore. “It would be much easier if you just let me do the brewing.” Dumbledore was a genius at everything he put his mind to, but he had admitted himself that he got his results with potions by experimenting, not intuition, and something Severus achieved in days could take him weeks. And, worst of all, Dumbledore wouldn’t know intuitively when he had found a cure that worked. He would have to experiment. “Mrs. Weasley has been keeping chickens for years, she is perfectly capable of taking care of a chick by herse-“


“HELP MEEEEEE!”


Severus didn’t even think before charging for the door, only turning into a rooster on the way.

“He is perfectly harmless”, he heard Dumbledore say as they entered the house. “What did you do to Harry?”

The Weasley girl looked shamefacedly at Dumbledore. “I just took him out of the box, and everything was alright, until Percy came down, and ...”

Perched on Percy’s shoulder was a large owl. One that wasn’t Harry’s pet and might have an appetite for chick.

“Help?”

Severus would never admit to the relief he felt in that moment. Harry was hiding under the sofa.

He sat down next to the sofa. “Cease this nonsense and come out at once!”, he demanded, knowing that everyone else would just hear chicken noises.


Something else he would never admit to was that Harry was actually rather agreeable in chick form. Obeying immediately, the chick came out and slipped under Severus’ wing.



Must be the instinct, Severus decided while he herded Harry onto the sofa cushion which the Weasley girl then put back into the box.

Turned into a chick, Harry behaved like one, which included obeying adults.

Yes, it was rather satisfying to have the little brat do as he was told, for once. It really was a blessing people turned into animals by anything but the animagus spell didn’t retain their human minds, or this chick would probably already have gotten it into his head that he was the chosen one who had to end the garden gnome threat, or something similarly foolish.

Yet here he was, warm, fed and safe, making happy little noises. Just as it should be.

“See?” the Weasley girl said smugly. “I told you he’d come out. We ought to keep them together.”

“I concur”, Dumbledore said, and Severus could hear the amusement in his voice. “It is best for Harry’s safety. I trust we will be able to turn him back, but you must keep him safe in the meantime.”


Over the following days, Severus grew somewhat bored. He didn’t dare move outside the kitchen, and any time he stayed away from Harry for too long, the chick would complain about being cold.

Keeping watch over Harry while he explored the house didn’t provide a lot of excitement, as at least one Weasley would be there, too, if they let Harry out of the box, and Severus needed only make a disapproving sound and the chick would keep away from whatever danger it had approached, be it the fire or Mrs. Weasleys magical knitting needles.

Gratifying as it was to have Harry obediently hide under his wings every time an owl entered the room, it didn’t provide Severus with much excitement.

‘Spying’ on the Weasleys didn’t provide much entertainment, either, as their secrets were disappointingly mundane.

The twins wanted to start a joke shop. Little surprise. Percy was sweet on Miss Clearwater, which Severus had already suspected at school. Mrs. Weasley had a tiny crush on Gilderoy Lockhart – mildly embarrassing, and she would be cured of it if she ever met him in person, Severus was sure. Mr. Weasley’s illegal flying car he already knew of, and the rest of his experiments with muggle technology were just as harmless.

As for Ronald, he didn’t even seem to have any secrets. He was a rather decent chess player, which was a surprise considering his poor performance in Potions. Apparently he just didn’t choose to use his brain in lessons.

Ginevra obviously had a crush on Potter, which Severus supposed wasn’t really a secret to anyone with eyes.

One night, when, for once, everyone was sound asleep and there was no threat of Mr. Weasley returning from night shift early, Severus decided to turn back into a human, stretch his legs, and get some decent food.
After he had refused worms and the like – chicken or not, there were limits! - the girl had taken to feeding them scrambled eggs and meat in addition to grains, but being a chicken meant he couldn’t chew, or really, taste any of the food. That apparently too much salt was dangerous for chickens made for an even blander diet.

Some toast with marmelade would do, and considering they were willing to feed him anyway, it couldn’t be considered stealing, could it?

Severus had just left the box – fortunately his animagus form was able to fly a bit better than the average chicken – when he saw a rat.

A rather small rat. Not one of the large sewer rats he had seen in Spinner’s End occasionally. No, this one looked like a pet rat.

Now that was interesting – Ronald had said his pet rat was fat and lazy and didn’t like to move much, yet here it was, sneaking about as if it knew exactly that this was a good opportunity.

He moved closer. If not for the full moon, he wouldn’t have seen anything at all, the chicken’s eyes weren’t really good in the darkness.

The rat squeaked and ... grew.

Severus retreated. The rat turned into a man.

“Quiet”, the man hissed. “Good chicken, go back to sleep.”

He instantly recognized the hated squeaky voice. Pettigrew! Peter Pettigrew! Oh how he hated that man! He was supposed to be dead, no one would miss him and Severus would end him!

Without even meaning to, he made an angry hissing noise.

“I’m cold!” Harry cheeped. Or at least, he cheeped and Severus got the impression he must be uncomfortable.

Oh well. Pettigrew could wait. Having hidden for so long, he wouldn’t run away now.

Severus flew up to the table and returned to the box.

„See? Your baby is calling. Good mother hen …“ Pettigrew whispered as he tiptoed towards the kitchen, doubtlessly with the very same intentions Severus had had.

Severus was seething, but there was nothing to be done, Harry was cold and as Mrs. Weasley had implied, that could be lethal for a young chick.

Shortly after Severus had returned and spread his wing over Harry, the chick made a happy trilling noise and went back to sleep. Good.

Pettigrew returned from the kitchen, became a rat again, and went up the stairs to where Ronald’s room must be located.

He didn’t seem to suspect a thing. Good. That gave Severus more time to figure out the best course of action.

Why had Pettigrew faked his own death? And why had he become an animagus in the first place? There were many questions to be considered.

Severus spent several sleepless nights watching over Harry. With Pettigrew in the house, he couldn’t afford to take any risks.

And finally, finally, a whole week after his arrival, Dumbledore returned.


“Professor Snape had some urgent business to attend to, so he could not finish research”, he claimed. “We have, however, five potential antidotes I have tested on actual chicks. None of them does any harm. Perhaps Fred and George will know which is most likely to succeed?”

The boys were, as was to be expected, clueless, but it gave Dumbledore an excuse to explain exactly what he had done for each variation.

Versions one and two were useless, three might work, number four, Severus suspected would have, albeit mild, side effects, and five would turn Harry back into a boy but leave some of his chick instincts intact.

A difficult choice. Severus had become rather used to this obedient version of Potter. A Potter who arrived for lessons on time, used exactly the ingredients Severus told him to use, never left his dormitory at night ...

“No guesses? We shall have to try them out. No worries, as I said, I have tested them on actual chicks and none does any harm.”

Mrs. Weasley was very much against experimenting and insisted that they should wait until they could consult Professor Snape, but in the end she gave in, as she didn’t want to risk Harry arriving late to school.

Dumbledore filled five tiny bowls with portions of each antidote and put them all in the box.


Harry made a move towards version number five.

“Stay away, idiot boy!”

Obediently, the chick went back under Severus’ wing.

Severus dipped his beak into the bowl with antidote number three. It would not affect his animagus form. “Drink that.”

He would miss the chick, but there was nothing to be done about it. Back to bratty Potter it was.

For now, Harry was obedient and drank the antidote.

Severus just so managed to get out of the box before it was full of boy.

“Huh? What’s going on?”

Good. Very good. He didn’t remember anything.

Severus perched on the back of an armchair and watched.

Ronald helped Potter step down from the table.

“What is the last thing you remember, Harry?”, Dumbledore asked.

Potter looked around. “Uh, I arrived here and … I was hungry and it was a while until breakfast, so Fred gave me some toffee and ... after that, I don’t remember anything. What happened?”

“You tell him, Fred“, Mrs. Weasley demanded.

Potter didn’t show much of a reaction to learning that he had been turned into a chick, and seemed much more upset at the thought of having done something embarrassing in his time as animal.

Severus, in his place, would never have believed the twins’ claims – despite apparently accurate – that it had been an accident.

“So the rooster saved me?”, Potter asked.

“Kept watch over you all the time. Such a sweetie. He must be so confused that his chick is suddenly missing, poor thing.” Ginevra looked at Severus as though she considered petting him again. “Mum said he might belong to the Lovegoods, but Luna says her mother never got around to getting Swedish black chickens.”

Potter frowned. “Hagrid kills his surplus roosters”, he said slowly.

What? Did the brat seriously mean to suggest –

“So ... can he stay here? Mrs. Weasley? Please? His owners will probably kill him once he’s too old or something and I just can’t ... I’d keep him as pet but I don’t think it would be allowed, or that he’d be happy.”

Severus shuddered. A pet! How could they have gotten the impression he would make a good pet?

“Of course dear. I would love to keep him. But I am sure his owners will want him back. Well behaved roosters are hard to come by.”

“I wanted to pay a visit to some of the neighbouring families, anyway”, Dumbledore said, eyes twinkling with amusement. “If I find out he hasn’t been missed, I will be sure to return him.”

“Thank you!”

“Well, time to leave.” Dumbledore held out his arm and Severus perched on it. “Make sure to do your potions homework properly, boys – I daresay you owe it to Professor Snape for getting you out of this mess.”

“We’ll send him a box of chocolates”, Fred promised.

Dumbledore chuckled. “I rather doubt he would appreciate that. However, I know for a fact that he is very frustrated at having to teach a bunch of dunderheads, as he likes to put it, and you would do him a favour by studying harder. You too, Harry.”

Potter paled. “Oh no! Don’t say … Sna- Professor Snape knows what happened? That I got turned into a chick?“

What was going on with the brat now? Even Severus had to admit that it hadn’t been Potter’s fault.

“Why, of course he does, or how could he have thought of an antidote?”

“I don’t know, I hoped you had just told him Fred and George messed up ... he’ll tell Malfoy! Everyone will laugh at me!”

Tell Malfoy? Why would he tell Lucius that … ah. Draco. Still, why would he? „Don’t be an idiot“, he said. Out came a humming noise that sounded much happier than Severus felt.

“No need to worry about that, Harry”, Dumbledore said, chuckling. “Professor Snape will certainly respect your privacy in this matter. You have my word.”



“Stupid brat”, Severus said as soon as they were in the Forbidden Forest and he could turn back. “Why would I tell Draco, or any other student at that, about his predicament?”

“I dare guess that you made a habit of embarrassing Harry in front of the class”, Dumbledore said mildly.


“It is his own fault he cannot answer my questions. If he is ashamed of that, he ought to pay more attention.” Had he ever humiliated Potter in any other way? No, he was sure he had not. “Don’t tell me you never picked a student who wasn’t paying attention to ask him a question you knew he wouldn’t be able to answer.”

“We all do that, certainly, but I do think Harry might have noticed that your dislike of him is not merely due to him being inattentive in class. Does his lack of trust hurt you?”

“It is no skin off my nose”, Severus replied coldly. “There are much more important things to discuss right now. Did you know Peter Pettigrew is alive?”

“Peter lives? How?”

“As Ronald Weasley’s pet rat. He enjoys a lazy life and raids the kitchen at night. My theory is that he is a Death Eater. His penchant for licking the boots of bullies would have served him well in the Dark Lord’s service.” It had taken him days to come to that conclusion. Having joined the Death Eaters, himself, in pursuit of power, Severus had found it hard to imagine that someone like Pettigrew, who had been happy to be the butt of many of his supposed best friends’ jokes, would do likewise.

But in the end ... in the end, Severus had found that he had not wanted power so he could dominate others, but so he could be free himself, and that the cruelty and bootlicking involved in being a Death Eater didn’t suit him.

Whereas Pettigrew enjoyed both cruelty and bootlicking. His personality was perfect for a Death Eater.

“Of course”, Dumbledore said slowly. “If they changed secret keepers without telling me ... that would mean Sirius is innocent ...”

“I don’t care about Black. Pettigrew is, right now, in the same house with Ha- with Potter. What do you intend to do about that?“ Potter was likely safe during the day, as Pettigrew was a coward, but they could not afford to wait for too long. They didn’t know what Pettigrew’s plan was, and as such could not predict if or when he would strike.

„That is what I am thinking about. It needs to be done in such a way that Peter does not suspect anything before we catch him. His survival would prove Sirius’ innocence.”

“Black can rot in Azkaban. I have not endured days of boredom and humiliation just so that Pettigrew can kill Potter now. If you haven’t thought of a plan to take him alive in five minutes, I will go back and end him.”

“Patience, Severus. One might almost think you had become fond of Harry.”

“Nonsense.”

Having spent such a long time as chick made things rather awkward for Harry, but it wasn’t the only thing he worried about. Whenever he didn’t wonder what Ginny had seen him do for her to be so embarrassed when he talked to her, he worried that the people the black rooster belonged to might want to eat it.

Harry wasn’t a vegetarian, but he really owed that rooster. And although he couldn’t remember his time as chick clearly, the rooster seemed vaguely familiar.

It must have taken good care of him, he concluded, because when he was turned back, he had felt like he had just woken up from a pleasant dream. A pleasant dream he had had in his bed in the Gryffindor dormitory, since he didn’t feel hungry at all. In fact, it even looked like he had gained some weight.


When, during dinner, there was a knock at the door and Dumbledore came to visit them, Harry was very relieved to see the black rooster on his arm.

“I have considered the matter”, Dumbledore said. “I have been told he is used to a solitary life and being inside, so the only remaining question is whether he gets along with everyone else’s pets. Ronald, would you get your pet rat? Just so we can see whether the rooster attacks it?”

“Sure.” Ron got up and went upstairs.

„Can I keep him?“ Harry asked excitedly. „His owners don’t want him?“

“Now, Harry, do not get ahead of yourself, we will have to see if he gets along with the other pets, first.”

Ron returned with Scabbers in his pocket.

“I will create a magical cage around Scabbers so we will be able to observe if any of the things he usually does causes this rooster to attack him”, Dumbledore explained. “The rooster won’t be able to get to him.”

The magical cage was huge, about as big as the one Harry had imagined himself in when he had dreamt he was in a zoo. Of course, there were no bars, just the gleam of magic.

When Scabbers was inside, Dumbledore drew his wand and pointed it at Scabbers.

Everyone stared at the rat. Which was not a rat anymore.

“Why’d you turn Scabbers into a man?”, Ron asked.

“I only forced him to reveal his true self”, Dumbledore replied. “Hello Peter. Care to explain why you have been pretending to be a rat all those years?

“Is that – Merlin! Peter Pettigrew!” Mrs. Weasley exclaimed. „He’s supposed to be dead!“

The small, fat man tried to escape the cage, but before he could do anything much, the door opened and Professor McGonagall entered, followed by a couple of people wearing all the same kind of robe.

Those, Harry realized, must be Aurors, the magical police.

They didn’t bother with putting handcuffs on the man, but just took the whole cage.



“I am sorry for deceiving you”, Dumbledore said. “The rooster was just an excuse to get Ronald to show me his rat. He will stay in his previous home, Harry, but I assure you, he is safe there. As safe as can be.”

It made sense, he probably was a pet, but Harry was still a bit worried.


***

They couldn’t get to platform 9 ¾. Somehow, the wall just didn’t let them through.

Harry thought it was a good reason to panic, but inexplicably, he felt rather calm.

When Ron suggested they take the flying car to get to Hogwarts, Harry considered it for a moment, but then shook his head. “We don’t have a driver’s license”, he pointed out. Ron probably had less experience driving a car than Fred and George did, and Harry had none at all.

“It’s an emergency!”

“Not really. Getting me away from the Dursleys was an emergency, but it’s not like we are dying or anything right now. Your parents will be back soon, and then they can drive us to Hogwarts.” Dumbledore had been really kind about the whole chicken thing, he would certainly not expel them from the school just for being some hours late.

If not for the chicken thing, Harry might have been more worried – he had spent the holidays worrying it might have all been a dream, and that he would never go back to Hogwarts. Now, though, he felt confident the adults would sort everything out.

“They probably can’t get out. It might be hours before they find a way, and then we’ll have missed the feast and Ginny’s sorting and - ”

“Can’t we just floo there?” He didn’t look forward to it, not after accidentally ending up in Knockturn Alley, but they would arrive on time. And if arriving by train was the only allowed way to get there, flying the car wouldn’t help at all.

“I’m not sure – no one does, there must be a reason why.”

“Your parents will figure something out.” That was what parents were there for, right? It was not like they were on their own. Not at all like when Uncle Vernon had dropped Harry at King’s Cross and laughed at the impossible platform number.


They had waited perhaps half an hour when Mrs. and Mr. Weasley came running. “You’re here! Oh thank God!”

Mrs. Weasley hugged Ron as if he had been in mortal danger, causing him to complain that he couldn’t get air.

When she gave Harry a hug, she had already calmed down some, so it didn’t feel bonecrushing, but rather nice, reminding Harry of how he had felt when he had been turned back after his time as chick.


“Why don’t you send a letter to Hogwarts?”, Mrs. Weasley suggested.

Hedwig hooted happily when Harry gave her the letter, stretched her wings and took off. She didn’t like traveling in her cage at all.

When they arrived back at the Burrow, Hedwig was already there with an answer. Professor McGonagall wrote she had arranged for them to travel to Hogsmeade via Floo and that a teacher would pick them up there.


This time, Harry didn’t make any mistakes with the floo, and when he stepped out into the large kitchen of the Three Broomsticks, he saw Professor Sprout waiting for them.

“Just leave your luggage here, it will be brought to the castle”, she told them. “We have to hurry, I’m sure you don’t want to be late for the Sorting.”

So they had a chance of arriving in time!


As they trailed behind Professor Sprout, Ron murmured “Just think of what the others would have said if they’d seen us arrive in a flying car!”

He had wanted to do it, Harry realized, not because he had been worried, but because he thought it was cool.

It might have been, but then, they might also have crashed into a tree – that was what happened to people who couldn’t drive well and still tried, Harry had read about it.

When he had still believed his parents had died in a car accident, he had been very interested in car accidents and why they happened.
He had often tried to imagine how everything could have gone differently, how his parents could have survived.

There were a lot of things that could go wrong, even if the person driving the car knew what they were doing, and Harry didn’t think trying to look cool was worth the risk.


When they took their places in the Great Hall, the Sorting was about to begin, but there was one place empty at the High Table. “I wonder where Snape is”, Harry whispered.

“Perhaps he is ill.” Ron sounded hopeful.

“Or he quit because he doesn’t get to teach Defence once again.” Harry said. He didn’t much like the thought that any of the teachers was so seriously ill Madam Pomfrey couldn’t help. Even if it was Snape.

“Or he was fired! Everyone hates him - ”

“Or perhaps”, someone said behind them. “He has been trying to find out why you couldn’t get to the platform, and no one could get back out.”

Harry turned around. Behind them stood Percy, his prefect badge polished to shimmer in the candlelight.

“He has?”, Ron asked, flabberghasted.

“I asked Professor McGonagall, and she said Mum and Dad have been able to get to you at last, and Professor Snape has been sent to investigate the problem.”

“We were very worried about you”, Hermione interjected.

“Why him?” It had, after all, nothing to do with potions.

Percy frowned. “She didn’t say, but I suppose they suspect someone has meddled with the barrier using dark magic. After all, it is probably you they wanted to keep out, Harry.”

That made sense. Lockhart had a lot of books about fighting dark creatures, but he might not be all that knowledgeable when it came to dark wizards and their methods.

And indeed, after they applauded Ginny being sorted into Gryffindor, there was Professor Snape at the High Table as though he never had been away.


They soon found out that Lockhart was utterly incompetent, so it made all the more sense that Snape had been sent to investigate the platform problem.

Harry had begun to think that, except for Defence against the Dark Arts, the new school year was going rather well, when the first Quidditch practice session disabused him of the notion.

Having to get up early annoyed him a bit, but once he was awake, Harry didn’t terribly mind. Then, of course, the Slytherins had to turn up.

Malfoy was nasty, as usual, and things escalated quickly. Malfoy called Hermione a ‘mudblood’ and Ron cursed Malfoy to throw up slugs.


Malfoy tried to retaliate, but couldn’t speak.

“Let’s go visit Hagrid”, Hermine said hurriedly. “Since you can’t play Quidditch anyway.”


On the way, Ron explained why he had gotten so angry, and Harry agreed that Malfoy had deserved it, while Hermione worried that Ron might be in trouble.

Ron did not get in trouble. Harry figured that Malfoy probably hadn’t dared tell anyone. After all, he had said something really bad, and the whole Quidditch team had heard.


Ironically, some weeks later, Harry got into trouble over as something as harmless as walking into the castle with muddy boots.

He escaped, as Nearly Headless Nick got Peeves to distract Filch, but out of gratitude promised to go to Nick’s Deathday Party on Halloween.


Which, when the day came and the Halloween decorations in the Great Hall looked absolutely splendid, he regretted a bit.


Hermione, however, was very curious what such a party might be like, and Harry had to admit that he had grown rather spoiled.

Sure, Hagrid’s giant pumpkins were great, and the living bats, and the dancing skeletons Dumbledores had allegedly hired ... but when Harry thought back to living in Privet Drive, he realized he couldn’t complain ... a Halloween party with real ghosts was appropriately spooky.

Or would be, if one hadn’t gotten so used to ghosts that they didn’t seem much different from living people.

The party was interesting at first, but all the ghosts meant the room was pretty cold, the food was all rotten and inedible because the ghosts preferred it that way, and then the Headless Hunt , a ghost club that hadn’t admitted Nick, added insult to injury by making fun of his incomplete beheading and distracting everyone from the speech he wanted to give.

After Harry had, rather unsuccessfully, tried to defend Nick against the leader of the Headless Hunt, he figured he couldn’t help Nick by staying longer and they decided to leave.


They hoped for pudding in the Great Hall, but then, Harry heard a voice. A voice that spoke of murdering someone.

Hermione and Ron couldn’t hear it, but followed him when he ran.



Instead of being able to prevent a murder, though, they ended up being suspects.

The victim was only Mrs. Norris, which meant it wasn’t as serious as it could have been, but Harry still feared he would be expelled.

Filch, after all, seemed convinced Harry must have done it, for reasons Harry didn’t even understand.

Dumbledore said the cat wasn’t dead, and that he didn’t think Harry could have done it, as it required powerful dark magic, but Filch insisted so forcefully Harry was a bit worried he might convince Dumbledore in the end – and one could still get expelled for performing dark magic, even if no one died.

“If I might speak, Headmaster”, Snape said from the shadows.

Harry relaxed. If Dumbledore thought petrifying a cat was too advanced for anyone in second grade, then Snape would certainly declare Harry too weak and stupid to even know about such magic. And with what was at stake, Harry wouldn’t even get angry at the insult.

Snape indeed pointed out they could just have been in the wrong space at the wrong time – exactly what had happened! – but then claimed they had acted suspicous.

“Why go up that corridor?”, he asked.

Hermione and Ron looked at Harry.

Harry very briefly considered not saying anything – after all, in the Muggle world, people who heard voices others couldn’t hear were considered crazy – but then Snape moved, his dark cloak billowing around him like wings, and Harry remembered he wasn’t in the Muggle world.

Snape would probably even know about the dark magic that made it so only Harry could hear the voice.
Perhaps knowing what Harry had heard would help them figure out who had attacked Mrs. Norris.

So Harry described what he had heard.

Dumbledore asked Hermione and Ron if they had heard it, too, but Hermione shook her head, and confirmed that Ron also hadn’t heard anything.

“He is lying!” Filch screeched. „If there had been any voice, his friends would have heard it, too! He did that to Mrs. Norris!“

“His behaviour is, indeed, highly suspicious”, Snape agreed. “If I may, Headmaster, I would interrogate the boy. You know I have the means ...”

“I can do that”, Filch said darkly. “I will put the screws on him.”

Harry shivered, he didn’t think Filch was speaking figuratively.

“We do not torture students in this school, Argus. And I daresay, Severus’ methods will yield better results in any case”, Dumbledore said firmly. “But since Harry was so kind to tell us the truth, I do think he and his friends deserve the opportunity to eat dessert in the Great Hall before any further questioning takes place.” He looked at Professor McGonagall. “If you would accompany them, Minerva? Just in case Harry hears the voice again.”

“Of course.”

Professor McGonagall walked at a brisk pace.

“You won’t let Snape interrogate Harry, will you?” Ron asked. “I mean, you are our Head of House, if anything, that’d be your job.”

“Most likely, the Headmaster will talk to Mr. Potter himself, should any additional questions arise.”

Ron didn’t seem much consoled, and even Hermione looked at Harry as though he was going to be executed in the morning.

Harry couldn’t find it in himself to be worried. He would get to eat pudding in the Great Hall! Perhaps the dancing skeletons would still be there, even!

“I assure you”, Professor McGonagall added. “That the means Professor Snape referred to are entirely painless.”

“Didn’t sound like it.”

“Professor Snape likes to intimidate. If he ever threatened to poison you, he was no more serious than I am when I say I ought to turn one of you into a pocket watch. Which is to mean, not at all. Neither of us would ever harm a student.”

That seemed to reassure Hermione, but Ron still looked worried.

“Considering the events of last year, I will not advise you to blindly trust all teachers, but Professor Snape has been here for a long time. There is no reason to fear him.” Professor McGonagall continued. “Though perhaps”, she added drily. “It might be wise to be cautious if he ever does get to teach Defense Against the Dark Arts.”

Hagrid had mentioned something about the Defense teachers, too. Harry supposed they had gotten a few bad apples over the years.

They arrived in the Great Hall just in time for pudding. There was chocolate cake decorated with tiny chocolate bats, pumpkin pie and wobbly green jelly.

Even better, Professor McGonagall conjured a plate of sandwiches so that they could make up for missing the main course.

Harry had just finished his chocolate cake, when Ron made a startled noise.

Looking up, Harry saw Snape approach their table.

“Potter, follow me. The Headmaster wishes to question you again.”

Harry supposed he should probably feel afraid, but he just couldn’t bring himself to do it. Somehow, looking at Snape’s billowing black robes had a soothing effect on him, although Harry had no idea why.
Perhaps it was because of how decidedly un-Dursleyish it was to wear robes, so regardless what else happened, at least Harry knew Hogwarts was very real and he’d only have to see the Dursleys again in summer.

There was a secret door behind a Gargoyle and a moving staircase, and then they were in what must be Dumbledore’s office.

Dumbledore sat behind a claw-footed desk in the middle of the round room. “Thank you, Severus.” He got up and walked around the table so he stood directly in front of Harry. “I am sure you told the truth, Harry. You mentioned you did not exactly remember what the voice said, is that right?”

Harry nodded. “I’m sorry.”

„No need to be. There are not many wizards today who would be able to quote, word for word, something they only heard once. However, as you surely understand, it is of the utmost importance that we find the source of that mysterious voice.”

He nodded again. “I wish I could remember.”

“There is a way to make you remember – for someone else to look at your memory and see it as you saw it at the time, even.” Dumbledore spoke softly, and Harry sensed that there would be a ‘But’ in the next sentence.

“Does it hurt?“

“Not at all. I must warn you, though, that the one doing this would have access to all your memories, even those you would prefer to hide. You would simply have to trust our word that we won’t.”

Harry frowned. „Like, if I had a diary and let you read part of it?”

“Somewhat like that, yes“, Dumbledore said gently.

“If you accidentally see something else ...” Nearly Headless Nick couldn’t get in trouble for dropping the vanishing cabinet to distract Filch. What would they even do to a ghost? But Fred and George could get in trouble for flying their father’s car. Ron could get in trouble for hexing Malfoy. And then, last year, Hagrid ...

“Information gleaned by using Legilimency is not considered viable proof in court”, Snape said. “Nor is it considered such in the school rules. You need not fear punishment for any wrongdoings one might find in your mind.”

“Oh. Okay, then. Do it.“

„I can do it myself“, Dumbledore said gently. “Or Professor Snape could do it. He is, I am afraid, more precise and less likely to see anything unrelated to the incident. It is up to you what you are more comfortable with.”

Harry considered the matter for a moment. “I guess it’ll be faster if Professor Snape does it, then.” He hated the man, he knew, and he should feel revulsion at the thought of Snape reading his mind, but ... he just didn’t. Perhaps because his hate for a nasty teacher didn’t matter when there was a dark wizard in the school, petrifying cats and threatening people.

“Very well.” Snape moved to stand directly in front of Harry. “Look at me and think of a moment some time before the incident. ”

It was rather hard to concentrate while looking into Snape’s dark eyes, but Harry managed to remember the moment he had known Nick’s party was ruined.

Him stuttering that Nick was very frightening.

Patrick yelling: “Bet he asked you to say that!”

It wasn’t any more pleasant the second time over.

Then he heard the voice. This time he paid more attention to what exactly it said.


“Ah.” Suddenly he was in Dumbledore’s office again. Snape turned away from him.

“I could not hear the voice”, Snape told Dumbledore. “I could only verify that, indeed, Potter did seem very aggravated and told his friends he heard it.”

“I remember what it said, now”, Harry said. “’Rip, tear, kill. So hungry, for so long’, it said. And ‘Time to kill’, and then ‘I smell blood.’”

Snape and Dumbledore looked at each other.

“May I try again, Potter?”

Harry nodded and looked at Snape again. It hadn’t been pleasant, but Snape also hadn’t looked at any memories Harry didn’t want him to see.

This time, he remembered the dimly lit passageway immediately. The voice.

„I believe I heard something“ Snape said, looking at Dumbledore. „No words, but … noises. I have gleaned from the boy’s mind everything I could.“

Dumbledore nodded. “Thank you, Severus. And thank you very much indeed, Harry. I must ask you to not tell anyone other than Hermione and Ron what you heard. We cannot have the one responsible know of our suspicions, I am sure you understand.”

“Yes, Sir.”

“You may go.”

Harry had already turned to leave when Snape said: “If you hear that voice again, Potter, you ought to flee, lest you lay down your life in protecting a cat.”


That did sound like Snape was making fun of Harry, but strangely enough, it also sounded as if Snape didn’t want Harry dead.


Ron and Hermione were waiting in the common room, and Harry told them everything.

“I knew he could read minds!” Ron exclaimed.

“It can’t be a wizard”, Hermione said, obviously thinking of something else. “Or at least, it is unlikely. A wizard wouldn’t talk like that, I think. Oh! I assumed it was male but ... is it? Did the voice sound male, Harry?“

Harry frowned. „I can’t say, really. Didn’t sound very deep, but also not very high.”


After Hermione got Professor Binns to talk about the Chamber of Secrets, they were sure that Harry must have heard the monster.

Hermione looked up monsters capable of human speech, but all the ones she found wouldn’t be able to turn themselves invisible. Much less go through stone ceilings, as Harry was sure the one he had heard must have done.

So they focused on who the Heir of Slytherin was.

Malfoy was the obvious suspect, but they had to know for sure.

When Hermione suggested Polyjuice Potion, Ron remembered that Fred and George had used a variation of that in their experimenting, and was very much against it.

“I would follow the recipe to the letter”, Hermione promised, but in vain.

“We could just tell Dumbledore”, Harry suggested.

Ron shook his head. “Remember last year, when we tried to tell McGonagall?”

Severus put his memory of Potter’s memory in the pensieve and took Dumbledore to watch it.

There was something wrong with Potter, Severus was sure. The boy didn’t behave as he had before. Voluntarily attending a Deathday Party instead of showing off in front of his classmates in the Great Hall, and then trying to defend Sir Nicholas against the scorn of that other ghost ... that was decidedly un-potterlike behaviour.

Even before Potter mentioned the voice, Dumbledore nodded. “Ah. Parseltongue.”

“You speak it?” It was impossible to know all the secrets Dumbledore kept.

“I am not a parselmouth, but yes, I possess some superficial knowledge of the language. Enough to know what it is.”

Having heard enough, they pulled out of the pensieve.

“Potter is a parselmouth, then?” Severus suppressed the envy rising in his chest. For Potter, being a parselmouth would not be a good thing. In Gryffindor, he would not be well liked if anyone found out.

“So it appears. More importantly, Slytherin’s monster must be a snake.”

“I would have guessed it if it was not so painfully obvious”, Severus retorted drily. “However, the cat was not bitten by a snake. Unless … ” A gorgon, perhaps? But the words Potter had translated had seemed rather animal-like ... “You do not think ... a basilisk?”

“Rubeus has been complaining that his roosters are being killed”, Dumbledore said quietly.

And that was all the answer Severus needed.

“We must set a trap.”

“Indeed.” Dumbledore turned to look at him. “Severus, you know what I must ask of you.”

“Fine“, he snarled. There was no avoiding it. His new task would be humiliating and dangerous at the same time. “Shall I be both weapon and bait?”

“No. Rubeus still has one rooster left, that will do as bait for the Heir. If the attacks continue to follow the pattern in which they happened last time, we need a muggleborn student to bait the monster. Or someone who looks like a muggleborn student. I dare not hope that you have any polyjuice potion in your stores?”

Severus shook his head. “I will brew some. We will need time to develop a suitable trap, anyway.” He frowned. „Do you think the Heir is a student? It might be Lockhart, but …“ No, Lockhart was much too stupid. It was inconceivable … or was it?

He’d much rather it be Lockhart than one of his Slytherins.

“Gilderoy does not seem the type, indeed. Still, I would ask you to discreetly find out whether he is a parselmouth.”

Severus nodded. He would.

And he would also find out what was going on with Potter. He had a theory. A theory he would need more proof for to convince Dumbledore.



Things were relatively quiet until the first Quidditch match of the season.

Right at the start of the match, Severus noticed that one of the bludgers was acting out, following only Potter around.

He smiled. Why not just ignore it? Potter would get kicked off his broom, and …

“...Harry Potter dodges the bludger again ...” Lee Jordan’s voice cut through his thoughts.

Harry.

What had he been thinking? He was a teacher now, logically, the dark-haired figure on the pitch couldn’t be James Potter.

And he had to find the culprit.

There were a lot of Slytherin students watching the game, and Severus took a good look at every single one. He could not discover anything amiss.

Before he could take further action, Harry was hit by a bludger and – did he try to attack Draco – no, he had seen the Snitch.

Harry didn’t seem seriously injured, so Severus took his time in leaving the stands.

Right up until he saw Lockhart stride towards the boy.

Harmless fool or Heir of Slytherin? In any case, Severus didn’t like how Lockhart treated Harry Potter. Giving the boy an even bigger head.

Or rather ... embarrassing him, it seemed, which added to Severus’ suspicions. “Professor Lockhart”, he called.

The man turned around immediately.

“Rumor says you intend to start a dueling club”, Severus said quietly, stepping closer. There was no such rumour, but knowing Lockhart, he would immediately take credit. “Perhaps I might ... assist you in that endeavour?”

“Oh?” Lockhart blinked. „Yes, of course. I will need an assistant, won’t I?“

Having successfully distracted the man, Severus took a look at Potter. A broken arm, it seemed. Did he imagine the gratitude in the boy’s eyes?

„Indeed, you will. The students will need a demonstration, many have never seen a formal magical duel.”

“Oh yes. Of course. The formalities. Very important. I will need a set of dueling robes ...”

Happily rambling about robes and hats, Lockhart followed Severus to the castle.



When he next spoke to Dumbledore, the Headmaster informed him that Potter had reported having found the culprit for the misbehaving bludger – a house-elf by the name of Dobby.

“That is the Malfoy family’s elf!” He knew Lucius thought his work for Dumbledore was just a ruse to stay out of Azkaban, just like Lucius pretended to have been under the Imperius curse ... and yet ... would Lucius do such a thing? Set free a basilisk, of all things, in the same school his son went to?

“Harry and his friends are also convinced that Draco must be the Heir of Slytherin. Apparently, he has called Hermione a mudblood.”

Severus flinched. “He is a foolish boy, but he would not – I cannot believe that he would –“

“It is nothing but a suspicion, as of yet. Lucius could have come to know of it in many different ways. And Draco, foolish boy that he is, would more likely than not boast about being the Heir.”

Yes, that did sound like Draco. “We will know, soon, who can and who cannot talk to snakes.”

He would teach Draco the Serpensortia spell. If Draco was a parselmouth, he would find out while coaching him. Draco would use the spell during the Duelling club meeting, and all suspicion would be drawn away from Severus.

If Lockhart was even clever enough to suspect something.


***


Harry was really excited about the Duelling Club. Up until he saw it was Lockhart who was in charge of it.

Lockhart introduced Snape as his assistant – how on earth had he gotten Snape to agree to that? – and they duelled.

Of course, Snape wiped the floor with Lockhart.

Then, they paired up the students. Snape partnered Hermione with a Slytherin girl who looked a bit like a troll. Well, at least Hermione had some experience fighting trolls, right?

Lockhart fortunately let Harry and Ron stay together. “Don’t hit me with that slug spell”, Harry whispered.

“’Course not!”

They had a lot of fun taking turns disarming each other. Poor Hermione, on the other hand, was tackled by the Slytherin girl, who apparently had given up trying to beat her with magic. Harry and Ron had to rescue her.

Fortunately, Lockhart then decided to have some volunteer students demonstrate how to block spells. “What about Neville Longbottom and Justin Finch-Fletchley?”

Neville looked very nervous at the thought.

Snape didn’t want Neville to demonstrate anything, either – Harry wondered how he’d feel if he knew he had done Neville a favour – and suggested Draco Malfoy and Dean Thomas.


Malfoy used a spell that conjured a snake. It slithered towards Dean.

“Don’t move”, Snape said lazily. “I’ll get rid of it.”

Before he could do that, however, Lockhart pointed his wand at the snake. It was raised in the air, then fell down directly in front of Justin Finch-Fletchley.

And if it had seemed angry before, that was nothing to how angry it was now. It moved its head, ready to bite.

Harry ran towards them. He needed to do something! “Leave hi-“ Suddenly, he found his tongue attached to the roof of his mouth. He couldn’t talk anymore!

The snake bit Justin, just before Snape stunned it. “I’ll take him to the Hospital Wing”, Snape said calmly, conjuring a stretcher.

Justin was conscious, but he was pale as a blanket and clutching his injured leg.

All the Gryffindors trailed behind Snape as he walked to the Hospital Wing, the stretcher with Justin hovering behind him.


Snape didn’t let them enter the Hospital Wing, but didn’t bother to close the door, so they could still hear him say: “Snake bite. A common adder, if I am not mistaken. Here it is.”

They all held their breath until Madam Pomfrey had agreed that it was, indeed, a common adder and its venom was not very dangerous and she had the antidote there.

“That’s not so bad”, Harry said, relieved, only then noticing that his tongue wasn’t stuck anymore.

He told Hermione and Ron what had happened, and they gave him strange looks. “You didn’t yell anything”, Ron said at last. “You just made some weird hissing noise – I’d thought you’d gotten injured or something.”

“Some weird hissing noise? No, I yelled at it to leave him alone, or tried, and then suddely I couldn’t move my tongue anymore.”

“But you feel normal, now?” Hermione asked. “You should see Madam Pomfrey about that.”

“No, it’s okay. Probably just Malfoy hitting me with a curse while everyone else was distracted.”

Hermione frowned, but apparently decided to let it go. “You were trying to talk to the snake?”

“Yes?” He knew it was silly, but ... “I don’t know, I already talked to a snake before I got my Hogwarts letter. It could understand me, and answered my questions. I guess it might have been a magical talking snake, but ...”

“Harry!” Ron hissed. “You – you must be a parselmouth.”

And that, Harry eventually realized, with both Hermione and Ron taking turns explaining, was a very dangerous thing to be.

Hermione and Ron didn’t think he was a Dark wizard, but a lot of other people might, Ron explained. Better keep it secret.

“Quick thinking, Severus. Has anyone noticed?”

“I do not think so, no. Potter hissed, but with no reaction from the snake, it could have been mistaken for a reaction to sudden pain. Nothing unusual in the aftermath of a duel.”

“Good, good. With Gilderoy an increasingly unlikely candidate and Draco confirmed to know nothing, we are back to the start.” Dumbledore stopped pacing his office and frowned. “Lucius knows something, I am certain.”

“It is unlikely he would have influenced the Board of Governors to oppose your suggestion of implementing safety precautions if he was not involved.” Lucius might not think the attack on a cat sufficient cause for inconveniencing the students, but after Colin Creevey had been attacked, he would want action taken to protect his son. Unless he knew Draco was not in danger ... “Any news from the roosters?”

“The remaining one has fallen silent. Lack of competition, Rubeus tells me. Perhaps, if you might ...”

Severus nodded briskly. “I shall watch the chicken pen tonight.”


He made sure no one had followed him into the Forbidden Forest before turning. Crowing took a couple of attempts, but was immediately answered by Hagrid’s single remaining rooster.

The Heir would come to silence that one, too.


Severus had waited five hours, hiding in the bushes close to the chicken pen, when he felt a hand on his shoulder.

“It is I”, Dumbledore said softly.

“Why are you here?”

“I will see a child walk back to the castle, later tonight. It appears, the culprit escapes us – or perhaps, we let him escape? In any case, I wished to be here.”

Severus suppressed a groan. He hated timeturners. They gave him a headache. And after learning they were sometimes handed out to students, he had never forgiven Slughorn for not suggesting Severus as candidate for that.

With a time turner, he could have put a silence spell on himself that fateful day ... everything would have been different ... or perhaps not.

In any case, trying to understand how Dumbledore could know in advance what was going to happen gave him headaches.

Another hour passed before something happened.

A child approached the chicken pen, raised a wand ... “Alohomora.”

Severus remembered that voice.

And when the child went into the pen and ducked to crawl into the chicken coop, he recognized the movements.

Ginevra Weasley.

There was no noise in the coop, but when the child emerged, she carried a dead rooster. She placed it near the fence, then went outside and used a spell to close the door.

Severus moved forward, but Dumbledore held him back with a firm hand on his shoulder.


He had seen in the future that the child would escape, and he would not allow for something different to happen, Severus realized.

So he waited until the child was out of hearing distance. “She is under the Imperius.” Under different circumstances he might have felt relieved that the criminal was not one of his Slytherins, perhaps even a bit smug that one of Dumbledore’s precious Gryffindors was responsible ...

He had come to loathe the Weasley girl for her cooing over and complimenting an animal that did nothing more than protect a young of its own species – hardly praiseworthy - but much as he hated her for that, it was simply not possible she was Slytherin’s heir.

Or had, of her own free will, killed the roosters in cold blood.

“Under the Imperius, or someone is using Polyjuice Potion.” Her movements had been recognizable, but someone might have studied her for long enough ...

“I verified her identity. No, this is Ginevra, but she is being influenced, I agree.” Dumbledore tapped him with his wand, and Severus felt the sensation of a disillusionment spell cast on him.

“Why not let me end the spell, then? I can still catch up with her.”

“We need to find the Heir, or he will just use someone else. Follow her, but stay under my disillusionment spell. If she returns to her common room, do not attempt to follow her.”

Severus nodded and swiftly followed the girl.

Her movements were increasingly sluggish, so it was easy to catch up with her.

When she arrived at the portrait of the Fat Lady, she looked as if she was sleepwalking. Her pyjamas – whoever had imperiused her had not considered it necessary to make her put more clothes on – were sprinkled with blood and some chicken feathers clung to the fabric.

She mumbled the password and climbed inside.

Severus performed a quick spell to reveal any human presence. There was either no one else in the common room, or someone as powerful as Dumbledore himself.

Could Slytherin’s Heir be a Gryffindor girl? Gryffindors could be evil, Severus knew all too well, and women could be too – no one who knew Bellatrix could believe otherwise – but there weren’t many women like Bellatrix, and that Slytherin’s Heir would be sorted into Gryffindor was extremely unlikely.

No, whoever was influencing her must have put her under the spell before she went to bed.

**


Severus was working late, the essays starting to get blurry in front of his eyes, when Dumbledore’s patronus appeared and summoned him to the Headmaster’s Office.

“I have news”, was all Dumbledore revealed. “You will want to know.”

Severus went, past the Gargoyle and entered without knocking. “You know who the Heir is?”

“Indeed. Sit down.” Dumbledore gestured towards a comfortable armchair he must have conjured previously. “It might come as a shock.”

Severus sat down; it was easier to indulge the Headmaster. “Draco, then?”

“Tom Riddle. You know him as Voldemort.”

It was, indeed, a shock. “How?” He ought to be dead or, at the very least, weakened.

“A dark artefact. Minerva found Tom’s diary among young Ginevra’s possessions.”

“It is confiscated, now?“

Dumbledore shook his head. „I asked Minerva not to intervene.“

Severus stood and slammed his hands on the desk. “HAVE YOU GONE MAD?“

„Calm down, please.“ Dumbledore raised a hand as if to shield himself. “We still do not know how a basilisk can move through the castle in the way Harry described. Or where the Chamber of Secrets is hidden.”

“Does it matter? Just take away the diary. The Dark Lord has no children, and will never father any offspring, even if he returns to a semblance of life. If he was the last Heir of Slytherin, the secret of the chamber will die with him.”

“Ever the pragmatist. Did it not occur to you, Severus, that if, as I am certain, Lucius Malfoy managed to somehow get this diary into the school, he might have more such artifacts in his possession?”

It had, in fact, not. Severus’ emotions had gotten the better of him, again. He sank back into the chair. “Very well. The basilisk needs to be killed. I suggest taking action during the Christmas Holidays. Hermione Granger would be suitable bait. Since Minerva already knows, perhaps she could impersonate her?”

„Yes, that seems appropriate.“ Dumbledore steepled his hands. „To make sure he takes the bait, we should make it appear as though Hermione is about to figure out the secret of the chamber. Some research late at night in the library, only returning to her common room shortly before curfew, the easiest of victims.”

“We need to move fast, then. Lest the girl does figure it out and tells Ginevra about it.” The potion would be ready the day after the students left Hogwarts for the holidays. Getting it over and done with before Christmas had some appeal. “Does Miss Granger intend to stay at Hogwarts?” He had brewed a large cauldron full of potion, but Minerva would certainly not enjoy having to stay in the students' dormitory overnight. It would be easier if Miss Granger stayed - they would only have to get her out of the way for a couple of hours.

Having the Gryffindor common room to themselves was great. Harry enjoyed playing wizard chess with Ron and listening to the noise of Fred and George’s experiments.

With Percy safely out of the way, patrolling the empty corridors, everyone else could relax a little.

Hermione was distracted from the twins’ wrongdoing by helping Ginny with her homework. “No, see, if you want to turn an earthworm into a snake, you have to ... oh!” Hermione got up. “Sorry Ginevra, I just remembered something – I have to look it up in the library – I’m almost sure ...”

“What’s gotten into you?”, Harry asked curiously.

“I think I know what Slytherin’s monster is”, she said in a rather loud whisper. “And I might have figured out how it moves through the school, even. If I’m right, it will be easily defeated. I need to look it up!” And with that, she ran to the portrait hole and out of the common room.

Harry couldn’t focus on chess after that, but as it turned out, Ron couldn’t either.

“I wonder what’s gotten into Hermione”, Ron said as they put the chess pieces away. “If I think about it, she’s been acting strange ever after she talked to Professor McGonagall.”

“She doesn’t seem upset.“ She had claimed Professor McGonagall had just informed her that Professor Snape was likely to give her bad grades for essays that were too long, as he was very busy and didn’t like having to read so much.

Which was rather useful information, if you thought about it.

“Not upset, but she just ... doesn’t behave like herself.”

Harry nodded. Going to the library was a very Hermione thing to do, but still ... he couldn’t put his finger on it, she was acting strangely. “Perhaps actually all the teachers complained about her essays and she’s just, like, trying to keep a stiff upper lip?”

“Could be, but she really didn’t seem upset. More as if she knows something’s going to happen, perhaps? I don’t know. Can’t imagine anyone but Snape complained. Flitwick loves her essays, I’ve heard him say so. Her vocabulary and phrasing is more like that of someone in fourth year, he says.” And for all his complaining about Hermione’s obsession with learning, Ron sounded quite proud of being friends with such a genius.

Harry hid a smile, but his thoughts soon returned to how strange Hermione had acted. Something in how she had talked to Ginny ...

They played Exploding Snap with Fred and George – Ginny had left the common room somewhen after Hermione, no one had really paid attention – and when Percy returned and announced that it was only half an hour to curfew and asked if they knew where Ginny was, Ron and Harry looked at each other.

“Can’t help you with Ginny”, Harry said. “Perhaps in the girls’ dorm?”

“Probably”, Ron agreed. “Hermione is in the library. Must have forgotten the time. We’ll fetch her.“

When they were halfway to the library, Harry thought of something. “What if she isn’t in the library? What if she’s in some girls’ toilet? You know, if she’s really upset ...”

“She isn’t upset”, Ron insisted. “There’s something else going on. She looked like – like something was going to happen. Oh damn!”

„What? What is it?“

„She spoke really loudly. I figure she wanted us to follow her so she could tell us about the monster. And we didn’t.“

„But she didn’t ask us to!“

“Yeah, that’s strange”, Ron agreed.

When they ran into Hermione halfway to the library, she didn’t seem pleased to meet them. “What are you doing here?”, she asked sternly, lowering the book she had been reading while walking.

“We’ve been worried about you”, Harry explained. “I thought perhaps you’re upset because Snape complained about your essays, and ...”

“That’s ... that’s nice of you, but you shouldn’t have ... Harry, the monster, it’s a basilisk. You mustn’t look it in the eyes. A look in its eyes can kill you. You shouldn’t ever look at anything you see, look at the floor. You too, We- Ronald. Eyes to the floor.”

“Come on, Hermione, it is not going to attack us right now”, Ron said, but Harry could tell from his tone that he did as Hermione had told them, too.

“No time to explain. Eyes to the floor, now!”

And then Harry heard it.

“This time you will be able to feast. It seems she has company ... I hope they are mudbloods, too. They need to die.”

“Behind me”, Hermione hissed, and her tone was so commanding Harry was behind her before he could even think about it. “Close your eyes!”

There was a noise, a noise Harry knew – a snake slithering on stone floor.

“Hermione!” With closed eyes, wand drawn, Harry stumbled towards the snake.

Everything happened very fast. Before Harry could get out any spell, there was a sharp pain in his arm.

A rooster crowed.

“It is dead”, a faint voice said.

There was a flash of red light.

“Ginny! What’d you do to Ginny?”

A whispering voice.

“Moron! Idiot! Imbecile!“

Snape. Harry would have smiled if not for the pain in his arm. Snape was here, they’d all get detention until summer, but they were safe.

Harry sank to his knees, not able to withstand the pain any longer. It felt as if his arm had been set on fire.

“Severus!” Was that Hermione’s voice? But that made no sense, not sense at all. „It is not their fault that they were worried about Miss Granger.“ Definitely not her. McGonagall, then? She was the only one who’d dare scold Snape.

“Why couldn’t the halfwit have listened to you?” Harry felt arms around his shoulders, soft fabric touched his face. “Basilisk venom - ”

Something was pressed to Harry’s lips. “Swallow.”

He did his best, even though the stone was rather too large, and finally he managed. By now, he felt rather drowsy. The basilisk’s venom must be really bad.

“Sir? How bad is it? Can you save Harry?” Ron’s voice had the eerie calm that Harry remembered from the giant chess game, before Ron had sacrificed himself.

Raindrops fell on his face. Rain ... there was something strange about that, some reason why it shouldn’t be raining, but Harry couldn’t remember why. All he could focus on was the burning pain in his arm.

That, and someone touching his hair, gently, distracting him from the pain a little bit. He must be hallucinating. His mother might have touched him like that, but no one else, no one here. No one still alive.

“Idiot boy.” Snape sounded strange. Very strange. Not angry anymore. Just …

For a moment, Harry must have passed out. The next thing he knew, the rain was getting stronger, drop after drop fell on the wound on his arm, soothing the pain.

“Why is it crying?” Ron’s voice trembled. „Is Harry …?“

„Phoenix tears“, Snape said softly. “A powerful antidote. Harry might yet survive.” Fingers touched his wound, but it felt numb now. Fabric tore. More rain fell on it. No, not rain. Phoenix tears.

Oh. Of course. It hadn’t rained. It didn’t rain indoors.

„Here.“ Someone removed his glasses. Snape? „He won’t be needing those for a while.“

When Harry finally got around to opening his eyes, everything was blurry. He was lying on a stretcher of some sort, and next to him was another stretcher with a blurry, red-headed figure that he figured must be Ginny, as another red-head was kneeling next to her. Ron?

“Where’s Hermione?”

“Miss Granger is quite safe in my rooms”, Hermione – no, Professor McGonagall said. “She was never here to begin with.”

Hermione was safe. Good.

„Wait, what?“ Ron sounded as confused as Harry felt. „Your rooms? Then you are … who are you?“

“Why, Minerva McGonagall, of course.“

“I see not everything has gone according to plan”, a gentle voice said. Dumbledore! “How is Harry?”

“Barely alive”, Snape replied sharply. “I should have known he would find a way to get himself killed.”

“Take him to the Hospital Wing, then. I will dispose of the basilisk.”


Harry was only half aware of what was going on around him. Snape talking to Madam Pomfrey. “ ... girl has been possessed, I advise caution ... bitten by a basilisk, I gave him a bezoar, hope that phoenix knows what it is doing ..”

Time passed, voices became indecipherable noises. He felt someone hold the wrist of his uninjured arm, someone smoothing his blanket ...

He must have dozed off at some point.

“Oh Harry!”

He blinked. „Hermione? Is that you?“

„Yes – you aren’t blind, are – oh, how silly I am, here.“ Something moved in front of his face, and then he had his glasses on and could see her clearly.

“What happened?”, Harry asked.

“I don’t know! Professor McGonagall asked me to give her one of my hairs so she could use Polyjuice to become me and set a trap for Slytherin’s monster, and then of course I had to wait in her rooms so there wouldn’t be two of me walking around, and the next thing I know is being told by me that you are in the Hospital Wing because you tried to help me!”

“Polyjuice?” Things started to make sense. Ron complaining that Hermione didn’t seem like herself ... “They planned a trap ... I messed everything up.”

“You didn’t! It still worked. No one blames you and Ron for being there, you couldn’t have known.“

„No one? Snape sure sounded like he blames me.“ And probably Ron, too, but he had seemed mainly angry at Harry.

“Yeah, he was totally out of his mind.” Ron sat on the other side of his bed. “Screaming insults at Harry, you know, as if Harry wanted to get bitten. When he grabbed Harry, I thought at first he was going to kill him!”

Harry couldn’t remember being grabbed. “He made me eat a stone”, he recalled. The voice telling him to swallow had been Snape’s.

“A bezoar. Of course!” Hermione exclaimed. „That’s a lot faster than brewing an antidote. You were lucky he found you so fast!“

“He didn’t find Harry”, Ron said slowly. “It was like he was there the moment you – I mean, McGonagall – told me I could open my eyes again. One moment I was there, trying to stun the monster with my eyes closed, next thing I know, Ginny’s on the floor and Snape is yelling insults.”

“Is Ginny okay?“ Ron had called her name, he remembered now.

“Not exactly okay, but ...” Ron shrugged.

Harry propped himself up on his uninjured arm and looked around. Ginny was in the bed next to his. Percy was kneeling beside the bed, quietly talking to her.

“That’s why I wasn’t with you the whole time. I kinda wanted to see what Madam Pomfrey was doing with you, but Ginny was there, too, and then Snape told me to go sit with my sister, and I figured with the two of them fussing over you, I’d not be much of a help, anyway.”

“Fussing? Snape?”

“I don’t know. He sat there, telling Madam Pomfrey what to do, complaining about you, and ... I think he was holding your hand, but I must be misremembering, why would he do that?”

“He might have been checking Harry’s pulse”, Hermione said after a while.

Right. That made sense.

„What happened to Ginny?“ She shouldn’t even have been there!

“Got hit by a stunner, and I think Snape mentioned something about her being possessed? She was totally panicked when she woke up, I’m glad Percy is here, he’s much better at calming her down.”

Dumbledore arrived shortly afterwards, a red bird perched on his shoulder.

“I owe all of you an apology”, he said gently. “First of all, Ginevra, I am very sorry I had to leave Tom’s diary in your possession and, consequently, you in his possession. All the times you cannot remember what you did, I am afraid, were his doing.”

“With all due respect, Headmaster ...” Percy got up. “What the bloody hell were you thinking?”, he yelled. “Ginny is devastated! She thinks she’s the Heir of Slytherin! How could you?”

“Taking away the diary would have meant leaving the monster to roam the castle. My plan to defeat the monster was rather flawed, I have to admit in retrospect. My apologies to the both of you”, Dumbledore said, turning to face Harry and Ron. “For asking Professor McGonagall to impersonate your friend. We could not risk Ginevra, and therefore Tom, suspecting something was out of the ordinary, as surely would have happened if it looked like the three of you had a secret. I know it must feel rather uncomfortable to learn that someone was impersonating your friend.”

“Oh, that’s alright”, Harry said. “I mean, if we had been in your place, we’d probably have done the same.” After all, Hermione had suggested turning themselves into Malfoy’s friends with Polyjuice, and the only reason they hadn’t done that was because Ron had been afraid they might not be able to turn back.

“And I also have to thank someone”, Dumbledore continued. “Helena?”

A ghost appeared from the curtains around one of the beds. The Grey Lady! What did she have to do with it all?

“Thank you. The whole endeavour would have been infinitely more dangerous without your assistance.”

The Grey Lady inclined her head. “I did no more than my duty to the school.”

“At great risk to yourself”, Dumbledore said gently. “You see, the gallant Lady here was the one to ascertain the basilisk was dead. Had our plan failed, she would have been the one to suffer for it.”

“A basilisk’s gaze can kill you”, Hermione breathed “So that’s what happened to Nearly Headless Nick! And Justin must have seen the basilisk’s eyes through him, so he only got petrified.”

“And good thing Nick happened to be there”, Ron added. “He can’t die a second time, but Justin would’ve been dead.”

“Sir Nicholas did not just happen to be there”, the Grey Lady said, miffed. “The Headmaster asked him to escort the boy. And that he cannot die again does not take away from his noble sacrifice.“

“You think he did it on purpose?”, Hermione asked. “Look at the basilisk, I mean?”

“I heard him tell the Headmaster that he would rather die than let the child come to harm”, the Grey Lady replied. “And Sir Nicholas’ hand now rests where the hilt of his sword would have been. He met his doom bravely and with open eyes.” With that, she glided away.

Dumbledore took his leave, but not before promising Ginny that he would destroy the diary and no one would read what she had written in it.


Shortly afterwards, Professor McGonagall arrived, returned the now destroyed diary to Ginny – it looked like someone had stabbed it – and talked to Madam Pomfrey quietly.

“Miss Weasley”, Madam Pomfrey said at last. “You are free to return to Gryffindor Tower as soon as you feel up to it. I agree with Professor McGonagall that the familiar surroundings will do you good.”

“What about me?”, Harry asked when Madam Pomfrey didn’t say anything to him.

“I prefer to have you closely supervised for the night. There is no literature on the effects of basilisk venom and whether or not it is sufficiently counteracted by bezoars and phoenix tears.”

“There is something wrong with Potter.”

“I quite agree, Severus. Having been bitten by a basilisk is a very wrong thing to have happened to a boy his age – or anyone else, actually.” Dumbledore fished a lemon drop from the jar on his desk.

“This is no laughing matter! He has acted very unlike himself ever since the term started. I have come to suspect your antidote against the Weasley twins’ botchery did not work in the intended way.”

Dumbledore finished eating the sweet before answering. “You did seem to approve. Would you care to explain in which way Harry seems unlike himself to you? I did not notice any difference.”

„A chicken’s sense of taste is woefully underdeveloped. I could base my decision only on your description of the ingredients and brewing process and the colour of the potion. As for Potter, he has not earnt a single detention so far, which in and of itself is atypical.” Severus paced through the room.
“All his homework this year, as well as his performance in class show clear signs of him trying to meet my standards. His decision to attend a Deathday Party would be uncharacteristic for any child, but is especially so for Potter. I have ascertained that Sir Nicholas asked him to attend. The fact that he admitted to having heard a voice no one else could hear when questioned. Moreover, Potter readily acquiesced when asked to let one of us see his memories, even consented to let me view them in order to hasten the process. Then, at the Duelling Club meeting, Potter and Weasley were one of very few pairs who did as they were told and only practised disarming spells. Lastly, after tonight’s disaster, Potter swallowed a bezoar without hesitation when asked by me to do so. I rest my case.”

“I am glad you can finally see that Harry is not nearly as troublesome as you made him out to be last year”, Dumbledore replied, eyes twinkling.

“Nonsense. It is merely a case of Potter’s personality still being influenced by the chick’s instincts. When he was a chick, he obeyed me without question and displayed more self-preservation than Potter usually does. His lack of self-preservation seems to have returned, his disobedience, however, has not. Can you name a single example of him disobeying a direct instruction or mere request by an adult?”

“Nothing comes to mind. However, the same holds true for most children.”

“This is Potter we are talking about!” Severus held out a hand and counted on his fingers. “He disobeyed a clear order by Madam Hooch in his very first flying lesson, was caught out of his common room after curfew, successfully provoked Draco into also being out after curfew, displayed blatant disrespect towards me on numerous occasions and lastly, disobeyed a direct order given by his Head of House. You may think him brave for going after Quirrell, I consider it foolhardy. Regardless of your opinions on his actions, you cannot deny that he has changed.”

“Oh, I rather hope he has changed”, Dumbledore said, smiling. “After all, he is a growing boy of twelve. I would be very concerned if he had stayed exactly the same.”

“This was no gradual change! Do you not realize how dangerous this is? I would not complain, Albus, if there were no downside to it! Imagine Potter had been like this last year, when Quirrell told him to hand over the Philosopher’s Stone!” Of course, if Potter had obeyed Minerva, that would not have happened, but something similar could have.

Finally, Dumbledore frowned. “You think him incapable of disobedience towards an adult?”

“Yes! That is exactly it!”

“Have you asked anything unreasonable of him to test that hypothesis?”

“Of course not. Your request to view his memories would be considered unreasonable by most. As would be Sir Nicholas’ request that a living boy attend a party where all guests are dead and they serve no edible food.”

Dumbledore still did not seem to grasp the gravity of the situation. “Harry is always eager to help. He had already risked his life, running towards the danger rather than away, so why not do something as easy and safe as letting us have a look at his memories? And his attendance at a Deathday Party is easily explained by a wish to help out his House Ghost.”

“And forego the Halloween Feast for that? You can explain away all the instances in which he did what you or anyone else asked of him, but you cannot explain away the fact that he also obeys me.”

At last, Dumbledore sighed. “Very well, Severus. If you are right, you do not need my support. Brew an antidote that meets your standards and ask him to take it. Either he will refuse, proving you wrong, or acquiesce, in which case your goal is achieved.”

********************


Soon after Madam Pomfrey had shooed Hermione and Ron out of the Hospital Wing, Harry had fallen asleep.

When he woke, it was dark.Even the light in Madam Pomfrey’s Office was out.

“Mr. Potter.” Snape must be standing close to his bed.

Harry reached for his glasses. “Is anything wrong, sir?”

“Why would it be?” Snape’s voice lacked the usual sarcasm.

“You wouldn’t be here in the middle of the night if there wasn’t a problem.” Harry put on his glasses. “Um. Thank you for saving my life. For the second time.“

„There is no need to thank me. It is not even certain that the bezoar did any good. Basilisk venom is a very potent poison. Quite probably, it was the phoenix tears that saved you.”

Couldn’t Snape just accept being thanked like a normal person? “Thanks for trying, then.”

“It would not have been needed if you had not been so foolhardy. Do tell me ... if Professor McGonagall had ordered you, explicitly, to stay behind her, would you have done so?” With a wave of his wand, Snape conjured an orb of light that gave just enough light so his face was clearly visible.

Harry frowned. “If I had known it wasn’t Hermione, I would have stayed behind, anyway. I’m not stupid, you know? Obviously, a Professor could handle it – but I thought it was Hermione! When she panics, she tends to forget she can do magic!”

“Good to know.“ Snape cleared his throat. „I have come to believe that the antidote the Headmaster gave you this summer was not fully effective.”

“Antidote? You mean, the one where he had several versions because you didn’t have the time to finish research?” He still was a bit surprised Snape had not told anyone. It was so embarrassing! “But it did what it was supposed to do.”

“Seemingly, yes. However, your personality is obviously still affected.”

“Is it?” Now that he thought about it ... the time when they hadn’t been able to get to platform 9 ¾. And the moment when they’d been caught with the petrified Mrs. Norris. He had been calmer than probably was normal. “I feel okay.”

“You also felt perfectly happy with your circumstances when you were a chicken. That has no bearing on what ought to be done.” Severus took the phial with the potion from his pocket. “This should return you to normal.”

Harry took it with some hesitation. “But I’m really happy with how I am now. Why can’t I just stay like that?”

“Because, Potter, it is potentially dangerous to yourself as well as to others. The actions that promote the survival of a tiny bird are not the actions that promote the survival of a boy. Now drink.”

Snape was probably right, staying calm in situations where he should be afraid could be dangerous. Still ... it had been nice. With a sigh, Harry removed the cork from the phial and smelled the contents. It smelled somewhat like what he had tasted when he’d woken up in the Burrow. He emptied the phial and handed it back. “Should I feel different now?”

“It might take a while for your arrogance, disobedience and lack of respect to become apparent again. I have no doubt they will have returned before the holidays are over.”

Harry stared at him. “You thought the antidote didn’t work because you didn’t think I was arrogant and so on?”

“Obviously.”

“But that’s not what changed!”

Snape raised an eyebrow. “Enlighten me, then. What did change?“

„I just was … less worried about everything. Had the feeling everything would turn out alright in the end.” Harry couldn’t suppress a yawn, but made sure to cover his mouth. “I thought it was because I had spent some weeks at the Burrow and things do tend to turn out alright there.”

Snape’s dark eyes bored into his. “And they do not so at your aunt’s house, I presume?

“Not really. She, uh, doesn’t like me, sir.“

Thankfully, Snape didn’t ask him to elaborate. “If you felt less worried, as you say, then why did you do your homework? With no consequences to fear ...“

Did Snape seriously think everyone did their homework just out of fear? “Not things like that. Things like when we missed the Hogwarts-Express. Percy said you knew about that?”

“I do. So you were not worried about that? Hoping you’d not have to go to school after missing the train?”

Harry stared at him. He had thought Snape ... understood. He must have some idea of what the Dursleys were like. How could he imply Harry wanted to stay there?

“Ah. Back to your usual self, I see.”

“I have never changed!”

“You just claimed you had.” Snape’s eyes narrowed. “Now, which is it?”

“I don’t know! Obviously, I should have panicked when we missed the train and Ron’s parents couldn’t leave the platform and Ron said it was an emergency, but I didn’t! I was just sure they’d come fetch us sooner or later and there was no reason to do something dangerous like have Ron drive the car, or - ” Harry abruptly shut his mouth. Had he already said too much? But he could still make it look like that had been his own idea, not Ron’s.

“You thought it a good idea to get into a car driven by a twelve year old boy?”

“No, I didn’t! That’s why we – I didn’t do it. It’d be much too dangerous.“

Snape raised an eyebrow. “Did you not just say you were not worried?”

He hadn’t been worried, really. “Just because I wasn’t scared doesn’t mean I don’t know it is a bad idea. And I – I would’ve been more scared of not getting to go back to Hogwarts.“ Harry hadn’t realized that before. Getting expelled from Hogwarts couldn’t possibly be worse than death, but to him, it felt like it.

“Why? You are not very studious. I never got the impression that you are overmuch interested in your career prospects.“

“You don’t know what its’s like”, Harry said bitterly. “Having to live with the Dursleys. It’s not about learning, it’s about ... just living here. And just because I’m not Hermione doesn’t mean I’m not interested in learning!” Besides, Snape didn’t even like Hermione, so what?

“My heart bleeds”, Snape said drily. “What is so bad about them? Does Petunia send you to bed without dinner once in a while?”

“It’s not about me! They starved Hedwig! It’s a miracle she survived, three days without food!” Hermione had told him that owls probably couldn’t even digest grains or vegetables, as they only ever ate meat in the wild. And Hedwig was so small! Well, not for an owl, but compared to Harry.

“You did not feel inclined to share your food with her?”

“You try feeding an owl half a tin of soup each day and see how long she survives”, Harry retorted. “I could have given her all the food and it wouldn’t have made a bloody difference, owl’s don’t eat vegetables!”

“Language, Potter.” Snape drew closer. „Half a tin of soup each day? Am I to understand that Petunia did not feed you more than one tin of soup a day? For how many days?”

Damn! He had gone and told Snape about it. But Harry couldn’t get himself to feel too upset about it. Snape had kept silent about Harry having been turned into a chick, the Dursleys weren’t more embarrassing than that. “Three days”, he quietly admitted. “Then I ... uh, got away.“

„I see“, Snape said icily. He started pacing the room now.

“Why’d you ask if you don’t want to hear it?” Snape hadn’t accused him of lying for quite some time, and Harry had gotten used to it. He didn’t want things to return to how they had been last year.

“Me not knowing about it would hardly solve the problem.”

“There is no problem.”

“Stop talking, Potter. Really, I much preferred it when you were a – still under the effect of the Weasley boys’ disastrous experiment.”

“Then why do you turn up here in the middle of the night to change it?” Harry didn’t think anything had changed, really.

“As I said, it was dangerous - ”

“Why would you even care?”


Snape didn’t answer – he just left the room.

When Harry woke up the next morning, he saw Dumbledore stand next to his bed, looking out of the window.

“Good morning, Harry. Did you manage to get enough sleep?”

He reached for his glasses. “I suppose.“ The sun had risen already, so it couldn’t be that early. “There’s something I’m not sure whether I dreamt it ...”

“And that would be?” Dumbledore smiled. „Ask away.“

„Professor Snape was here, somewhen in the night, and said the antidote you gave me in the summer holidays didn’t work that well.”

“Ah, yes, he voiced his concerns to me as well. Did he give you another antidote?”

“Yes, but ... I don’t feel different. At all.“

„He must have been mistaken, then. You see, Professor Snape is a most diligent man. He could not bear the thought of you coming to any harm as a result of someone using his research to brew a flawed potion. The notion agitated him so much that he must have seen something that wasn’t there.” Dumbledore peered at him over the rim of his half-moon glasses. “You will not, I trust, hold it against him?”

Harry frowned. „Of course not, it didn’t do any harm.” He had a lot of things to hold against Snape, but the antidote wasn’t one of them.

Dumbledore nodded. “So your unfortunate accident in the summer has not left any lasting impressions on your mind?”

“I don’t think so. There’s just one thing that’s a bit strange, but that can’t have anything to do with it.” And he told Dumbledore about the strange, calm feeling he’d had. “I thought at first that was what Professor Snape meant, but he didn’t, and if I really felt like a chicken, I’d be more afraid, wouldn’t I?”

“Indeed. You are young, and I would be rather worried if you did not change at all from one year to the other. And of course, staying with adults who’d actually come to your rescue would have changed your outlook on life tremendously, wouldn’t it?” Dumbledores eyes twinkled, and somehow Harry got the impression the old wizard knew something he didn’t.

“That’s what I thought, but the funny thing is that nothing bad actually happened while I was staying with the Weasleys. Except for that chicken thing, which I can’t remember. So, I couldn’t have really known that they’d come to our rescue, could I?” Of course, they were much nicer than the Dursleys, and it was logical they’d be different, but still ....

Dumbledore smiled. “Of course, you were cared for very well while you were a chick, too.”

Of course! “That must have been it.” Harry hesitated. If he didn’t ask now, he might not get another opportunity to ask. “Could you talk to my relatives? They don’t understand that Hedwig needs to hunt, and she almost starved this summer, so ...”

“It has been brought to my attention – most forcefully, in fact – that Hedwig was not the only one locked up without adequate food.”

“Snape told you?”

“Professor Snape is obligated, as a teacher of this school, to bring any mistreatment of students to my attention.”

“So you will talk to the Dursleys?”

“I will.”


Harry was allowed to leave the Hospital Wing that morning, he only had to promise to come see Madam Pomfrey if he felt unwell.

“With a bezoar, there is always some uncertainty”, she explained. “Symptoms might return once it has passed through the system, so to speak. That is mostly a concern with chronic poisoning, but you never know. I have no experience at all with basilisk venom.”

Harry felt perfectly well, though, and so he woke in his own bed in the dorm when Christmas morning dawned.

The fact there were presents for him didn’t surprise him anymore, but he was still surprised at how many there were.

“There’s a letter!” Ron informed him.

Indeed, there was a letter, and it was not from the Dursleys, or even Ron’s parents. “Sirius Black? Huh. I wonder who that is and why he is writing me.“

He carefully opened the letter.

“Dear Harry”, it started, and that was strange, because why would a stranger use his first name?

But then it turned out Sirius Black was not as much of a stranger as Harry had thought, he was Harry’s godfather!

And he’d been imprisoned for the past ten years because people had assumed he betrayed Harry’s parents and murdered Peter Pettigrew.

“... he wants me to visit him and he says he fully intends to spoil me rotten”, Harry told Ron, grinning. “I can stay with him in the summer!”

And that was the best Christmas present of all.

Better than all the sweets – everything the trolley witch in the Hogwarts Express had had on offer and then some – and better than even the new Firebolt broom.

“You don’t really know what he’s like”, Ron said, somewhat sceptical. “I mean, it’d be hard for him to be anything as awful as your relatives, but ... I dunno, he was in prison for a really long time, might have become rather strange ...”

“He says Dumbledore told him I like Quidditch. He can’t be bad if he knows Dumbledore, right?”

“I don’t know, mate. Dumbledore is brilliant and all, but you know who knows Dumbledore, too? Snape.”

“Snape is alright”, Harry said before thinking. “I mean. He did save my life. Probably. Twice. He hates me, but Sirius clearly doesn’t hate me, so …“ Harry couldn’t see any downside to staying with him over the summer.



#########


Severus was quite relieved to have the basilisk problem so neatly wrapped up. All that remained for him to do was to brew the restorative draught to revive the petrified people, and it would take quite a while until the mandrakes would ripen, so he could, for once, focus on his actual job.

When the Easter holidays started, he had caught up on his work enough to be able to take a break.

Perhaps his animagus form would finally be useful – no students could pester him if they didn’t know it was him, after all. Not that anyone but his Slytherins dared do that, but some of them were rather annoying, expecting extra special treatment because of how important their families were.

And it seemed people were much less inclined to be suspicious about a completely coal-black rooster than he had assumed.


At first it worked flawlessly. He picked a sunny spot near the lake, sat there, and occasionally made chicken noises and pretended to be looking for earthworms when some student walked by.

Perhaps Dumbledore had been right after all. Severus hadn’t dared sit on the ground ever since he had become a teacher – too undignified, he had to maintain a stern, forbidding image, and could afford even fewer slip-ups than Minerva.

It was rather hard to enjoy the sun when you had to stand all the time, and also notice all wrongdoing in the area.

In his animagus form, since no one knew it was him, his image wouldn’t suffer if they got away with some rulebreaking while he wasn’t paying attention.


He had managed to doze off when a well known voice woke him.

“That oaf can’t even keep his chickens where they belong.” Draco.

“Is it dead?” Crabbe Junior.

„Let’s find out“, Draco replied, and Severus decided he’d have to find another spot to sit. Annoying.


Before he could do so, however, a stone hit his head. Hard. His vision blackened out for a moment.

That, he thought when he regained consciousness, was what it must feel like to be hit by a bludger. Good thing he’d never taken up Quidditch.

He beat his wings, but before he could properly take off, that damned boy picked up another stone.

Severus decided to fly in his face. Teach him a lesson.

That would have been a perfect solution to the problem at hand, had not the boy’s owl been in the vicinity.

It screeched. It attacked. Severus fought for his life.

Everything went black.

“Wow, Hermione, why didn’t you do that ages ago!” The voice was loud and annoying, and everything was much too bright.

“Because there wasn’t a reason to, before. A good reason, not Malfoy calling me names.” A hand touched Severus’ feathers.

“Come on, it was just a stunner, he’d do worse to you. The look on his face when you got his owl –“

“He’s not dead, but I don’t think Hagrid can fix that. We’ll have to take him to Madam Pomfrey.”

Severus had never been so glad to hear Granger’s voice. It wasn’t really that unpleasant a voice, he decided. Perhaps she wasn’t all that bad.

“Although it might be kinder to, um, put him out of his misery ...”

Or perhaps she was ten times worse.

“No! We have to try!“

That was Harry. Potter.

„Okay, okay, no need to yell at me“, Granger replied.

Hands picked Severus up, and reminded him of the fact that while his head hurt quite a lot, the rest of his body wasn’t in good shape, either.

It was agony.

Why had that stupid owl even been there? It was daytime, Lucius and Narcissa knew better than to send an owl during the day unless there was something urgent ...

“He looks exactly like the one that saved me, you know?” Harry’s voice sounded disturbingly close. „I know it could be a different one, but … I just have to try to save him.“

„It’s okay, Harry, I don’t want to kill him, either. It’s just what my parents always said when I found an injured bird ...” Granger rambled on. “They always recovered pretty fast, I wonder whether that was accidental magic, pity I can’t do it on purpose ...”

Severus zoned out. It was hard to focus on meaningless conversation when your head felt like ... when your head had, in fact, been hit with what qualified as giant rock, considering his current size.


The ceasing of some of the pain in his body got him to pay attention again.

“It would be kinder to put it out of its misery.”

This time, it was Madam Pomfrey’s voice. Severus tried to open his eyes. He didn’t have the energy to turn back, but he had to show her somehow that ...

“Please try? You can fix it, can’t you?” Harry pleaded softly.

Since when did that boy sound so much like Lily?

“I can’t heal bird bones. I can vanish them and give him Skele-Gro, but feeling the bones grow back ... I have done it with some owls, and they are at least intelligent enough to understand they are healing when the pain starts. With a chicken ...”

“It’s a very rare breed, it’s probably quite expensive and I’m sure the owner will be looking for it. They’re called Ayam Cemani and are from Indonesia, and ...”

Okay, perhaps Granger wasn’t so bad after all.

“It’s alright Miss Granger, I will do my best.”

Severus felt the pain in his wings leave. He tried to move them, but couldn’t. They felt like rubber.

Ah. Vanished bones. So that was what it felt like.

„I hope I can get it to drink the Skele-Gro, with owls, you can explain it to them, but a chicken … well ...”

Severus opened his beak so Madam Pomfrey could dose him with a few drops of Skele-Gro.

The stabbing pain told him Skele-Gro worked quite as it should on chickens.

He heard a pained noise that he realized with embarrassment was coming from him.

“How long until the pain stops?” Harry asked.

“Twelve hours, give or take.”

Twelve hours. Perhaps it really would have been kinder to put him out of his misery.

Severus often felt that someone should have put him out of his misery ten years ago, but of course there were still ... debts to pay.


Under different circumstances, Severus might have been curious about the Gryffindor common room, but with a massive headache, he couldn’t even bring himself to open his eyes.

Without Lily in it, it had lost much of its original appeal, anyway.

He was carried up another flight of stairs and then, finally, put down on something soft.

“You should put a towel under him, you know.” Miss Granger? What was she doing in the boys’ dorm?

“Why? Oh, right.“

There was some noise and then Severus was manhandled again, now so that someone could put a towel under him, he deduced when he was placed on it.

“He’ll need something to drink.” Harry.

“I’ll ask Fred and George if they can steal a saucer from the kitchen.” Weasley.

Severus tuned out.

The pain prevented him from getting any sleep, but he daydreamt about what he would do to Draco in retaliation, knowing that he couldn’t do any worse than give the brat one hour of detention, and even that was stretching it.

Making him scrub the whole castle from top to bottom under Filch’s supervision ... not likely.

One didn’t build a reputation as dreaded, heartless teacher by appearing to care about the wellbeing of animals, so he had made sure to appear gleeful at the opportunity to dole out punishment and unconcerned about the animal whenever he had caught students tormenting Mrs. Norris.

Punishing Draco for hurting an animal when the only witnesses were Potter and friends ... that would seem wholly out of character and was bound to make people suspect there was something more to it.

Realistically, the only thing he could do was to ... ah, yes. See to it that Miss Granger was not punished for her assault on Draco. Whatever it had been, Severus was sure Draco deserved it.

How had he never noticed before what an insolent brat the boy had become?

The truth was, Severus had to admit to himself, that Draco had always been like this. Looking at the way Lucius liked to kick the family’s house elf around, it was no wonder his son had developed a taste for cruelty towards animals.

Severus just hadn’t wanted to see it before.

Over the years, he had grown used to his strange relationship to Lucius – pretending at friendship while secretly having come to detest large parts of the man’s personality – but Draco ... Draco was something else.

Unlike his other Slytherins, he had known the boy when he had been but a toddler. He had never talked to Draco about anything private, of course, it wasn’t in his nature to make small talk, but he had rather enjoyed the feeling that the boy looked up to him, admired him.

And now it turned out Draco was a sadistic little brat. Who was responsible for the stabbing pain in Severus’ arms – wings – and the throbbing headache.


“Harry? Are you coming?” Weasley shouted, interrupting Severus’ thoughts.

“No. Bring me some food if you can.”

“He won’t heal faster if you are watching him”, Weasley replied, but went away.

Severus risked opening an eye. It had gotten darker, must be dinner time. Someone had placed a saucer of water next to his head, but he couldn’t bring himself to lift his head to drink just yet.

“The pain will stop soon”, Harry said softly, somewhere behind him. “All will be well.” He laughed. „Silly me, talking to an animal. I’m not even sure Hedwig understands everything I say, and she’s very clever.“

Something touched Severus’ wing feathers. He froze. It was a hand. Harry’s hand.

„Perhaps that will help“, the boy continued. “It did help me. Or I think it did. It is all rather fuzzy. There was only Snape there, and he’d never pet my hair, so I must have hallucinated it. Perhaps I was so close to death my mum could reach me?”

The longing in Harry’s voice wrenched Severus’ heart. Oh, how well he could relate.

“Whatever it was, it distracted me from the pain”, he said, trailing his hand along Severus’ feathers.

Was that boy ... petting him?

Severus wanted to get angry, but between the stabbing pain in his wings and the headache, he just couldn’t work up the energy.

Besides, it really did help. The pain was still there, but at least it wasn’t the only sensation he felt anymore.

“... Snape’s been weird all year. I shouldn’t been complaining, I mean, I’m glad he stopped picking on me so much, but as long as I don’t know why he has stopped, I don’t know when he’ll start again. I thought I had figured it out when he said he thought I was still being affected by this weird thing that happened in summer, but he hasn’t really gone back to normal ... perhaps he realized I haven’t changed and it was all just in his head and I never really was all those things he said I was. That’d be nice.”

Severus had to concede that the boy did seem rather agreeable right now.

“He must have misunderstood something I said. Or no, that can’t be, he hated me right from the start. I just don’t get why”, Harry pondered, moving his hand along Severus’ spine. “I mean, Dumbledore said he didn’t like my dad, but that doesn’t really explain it, I mean, I don’t think I would pick on Malfoy’s son, even if he looked just as much like a ferret as Malfoy does. Not just because. He’d probably be just as nasty, but ... hm.“

Harry fell silent, but continued his movements. “I guess Snape thinks I’m like my dad, but it’s pretty impossible that I am like my dad, growing up with the Dursleys and all, you’d think I’d be more like Uncle Vernon – ugh, I hope not. Perhaps I am like my dad after all, but .... I don’t know, I wouldn’t pick on Malfoy’s kid – if he ever had one, that is – if I knew Malfoy didn’t get to teach him how to be a nasty little ferret.”

Severus tensed as something occurred to him.

Did Potter know who he was? Did he intentionally try to make him feel guilty?

“Hey? You okay? Damn, I have no idea what to do – please be okay.”

He forced himself to relax. No point in giving himself away before he was entirely sure.

“Just a cramp?” Potter continued to pet him. Severus tried very hard to hate it. “It’s nice to have someone to talk to. In summer I have Hedwig, but she doesn’t like being in a cage and here, she’s in the owlery ... I mean, I can talk to Hermione and Ron, but I can’t talk to them about everything. Ron wouldn’t listen, he thinks Snape is just nasty without a reason, and Hermione would just, I don’t know, analyze everything I say and then tell me about some psychological problem I have or some nonsense, and I just ... with some stuff, it is better to talk to someone who only listens.”

When Severus woke, it was dark.

So he must have fallen asleep at some point. He opened his eyes. Harry was still there, sitting next to the bed, petting him, but his movements were slower, as if he was about to fall asleep.

Severus managed to dip his beak into the saucer full of water and drink.

Immediately, Harry reached for the saucer and held it at an angle that made it easier to access.

Severus drank all he could, then placed his head back on the soft towel. His wings now felt like there were a thousand small needles inside them.

“You are getting better!”, Harry said softly. “Just some hours now. It’ll stop hurting soon.”

The boy went away. When he returned, he was in his pyjamas and carrying another saucer. This one was full of some sort of food.

“Just in case you are hungry”, Harry said, placing it in front of Severus.

He was hungry, but just couldn’t bring himself to move.

After a while, Harry started to pet him again.

Morning dawned, and Severus realized that his wings didn’t hurt anymore. His head seemed to hurt even more, though.

Next to him, Severus saw when he dared open his eyes, Harry was fast asleep, upper body slumped on the mattress, the rest of his body somewhere next to the bed.

Idiot boy, should have gone to bed in time.

Weasley shook Harry awake some time later. Severus did his best to appear recovered, and managed to convince the boy that he didn’t need to be watched all the time.

However, when all the boys had left for breakfast, Severus realized that he just wanted to sit still and not move. He certainly didn’t want to do something as straining as turning back into a human.

And he wasn’t exactly in a hurry, was he? Breakfast would take a while. He could rest for some time before he had to act.

Not much time had passed, though, when he heard footsteps.

There was something wrong. It was not one person on the stairs but two. Yet they did not walk as two people should be walking. They ...

“Stop shaking, boy. You have nothing to fear. We will just wait here for Harry Potter to come rescue you …“

They sounded like a man was pushing a stumbling boy forward.

“He won’t! We aren’t friends, I didn’t tell anyone I have forgotten my Remembrall. No one will notice I’m not there!”

Longbottom. Of course. Bad luck seemed to follow that boy wherever he went, and if Severus didn’t know better, he’d think Longbottom suffered chronic Malaclaw venom poisoning.

“What a pity. We might have to wait until the evening, then.”

“I wouldn’t stay here so long if I was you”, Longbottom continued weakly. “I ... I have detention with Professor Snape in half an hour, and he’ll come fetch me if I don’t turn up!”

Impressive. Who would have thought the boy had it in him to tell such blatant lies?

“You are lying”, the adult male voice said, sounding amused. “Even if you had detention, Severus would not go to the trouble of fetching you. He would just give you more detention and tell your Head of House to deal with you.”

Perhaps Severus should have made more of a habit of invading other Houses’ common rooms and dormitories, after all.

Severus. So this man knew him. A Death Eater? The voice sounded vaguely familiar ...

He inched towards the closed curtains and peeked through, ignoring his headache for the moment.

The man had sat down on one of the beds, holding a knife to the throat of a trembling boy who was cowering at his feet.

Crouch. Bartemius Crouch junior. He ought to be in Azkaban.


But Severus had better things to do than think about the How and Why. The important thing was figuring out what to do.

Amusing as turning back into his usual self and demanding to see Longbottom in detention might be, he couldn’t risk it.

Not just yet, at least.

If he had to, he just might sacrifice Neville Longbottom to save Harry Potter, but he really didn’t want to.

As the boy had stated, no one would miss him for a while, so Severus still had time to figure out how to distract Crouch from his hostage.

A few, silent moments. Then: „I’m hungry.“

„Oh, are you now?“

Severus flinched at how similar Crouch’s words sounded to something he might have said himself. He didn’t want to have anything in common with the man. The mark on his arm was quite enough.

“I’ll get some sweets from my bag”, Longbottom decided. His voice trembled. “If you don’t like it, you can just kill me now.”

“Oh, I am not cruel. Go ahead.”

More like he didn’t want to kill his hostage.

Longbottom rummaged in his school bag, retrieved a handful of something, put it in his mouth, swallowed.

“Weyberries are quite delicious, don’t you think?” Longbottom smiled, opening his hand to reveal a shriveled red fruit.


Ah, yes. Weyberries. Delicious, but the kernels contained a lethal poison.

“Spit that out! I need you alive!“

“Too late. Already swallowed them. I feel a bit woozy.”

Crouch removed the knife, just in time, as Longbottom keeled over.

He knelt over the boy, apparently trying to make him throw up.

Severus gathered his strength, or rather, the feeble remains of it.

Crouch gave up his attempts on the boy, instead rummaging through the potions kit, probably in search of a bezoar or antidote.


Severus turned back into a man, seized his wand, and shot a silent stunning spell at Crouch, followed by a spoken and more powerful body bind.

Then he thought of Lily, laughing in the sunshine, to conjure his patronus.

“Death Eater in Harry Potter’s dorm. Come at once.” The silver doe set off to inform Dumbledore.

He felt like someone was pounding on his head with a giant hammer, but still got out of bed and dragged himself towards the limp body of Neville Longbottom.

“Sit up and stop pretending. Weyberry poison does not take effect until after at least a quarter of an hour has passed.”

Longbottom’s eyes flew open. “Professor Snape?“ he gasped. „But … but …“

„Did you not say I would come to fetch you for detention? To the hospital wing with you, now!”

Let the boy believe his words had magically summoned Severus. It was not as if magic like that didn’t exist.

“Yes, sir. I didn’t chew the kernels, I think I have some time. Aren’t you coming?”

Was this really Longbottom, or some hallucination his brain was producing to ease his distress? Since when was the boy this competent? Leaving the kernels intact meant he might even survive without any medical attention, if he was lucky. It was a pity Severus hadn’t thought to replace the bezoar in his pocket after feeding it to Harry. An oversight that might have cost a life if not for this unexpectedly competent Neville Longbottom.

“I ...” Severus held to a post on the nearest bed. “I shall guard ...” No, he couldn’t put his pride over safety. „Yes, I will come.”

He put a hover charm on the body-bound Death Eater and made him float after them while they walked down the stairs.

When he arrived at the common room,the headache had become unbearable.

And Longbottom looked at him with an expression that looked suspiciously like pity.

“Did he fire a spell at you, sir?”

Severus chose not to answer that question. Let the boy believe he was incapacitated by dark magic. Much more dignified than the truth.

He thought quickly. Sending Longbottom off to the hospital wing would mean he was alone with the Death Eater. And some other student might return from breakfast early.

“Take away his wand, then point your own wand at him. If he moves, use any spell you deem appropriate.”

Longbottom retrieved the wand, handed it to Severus, then looked at Crouch hesitatingly. “You know I’m not good at magic, sir.”

Severus sat on a plushy red couch and rested his head on the backrest. “You are powerful. I am confident you will manage to cause death and destruction with any spell you choose. Keeping this man alive is very low on the list of my priorities right now.”

Perhaps he should have killed him. Not with the Death Curse, of course, but surely no one could object to his killing a dangerous Death Eater with the Sectumsempra curse? Severus had always liked the idea of having his own trademark curse.

Lily had not been so impressed, saying it was dark magic, regardless of how small the cuts he caused with it were ...

And of course, Sectumsempra would have made a terrible mess, what with all the blood ...



There was a faint cracking noise, and Albus Dumbledore stood in the room, phoenix on his arm.

“Bartemius Crouch”, he said softly. “Oh dear. Are you injured, Neville?”

“No, sir. But I think he got Professor Snape.”

“Longbottom ate Weyberries”, Severus hissed, pressing his hands to his aching temples. “He needs an antidote.” Everything was too loud, too bright and he was feeling nauseous.


Dumbledore walked to the fireplace, and Severus closed his eyes

He still felt the pain in his head increase as green flames flared up.

The headmaster conversed with the healer and Severus fought the bile in his throat. He would not throw up in front of Longbottom.

The boy had likely lost respect for him after seeing him in this weakened state, no need to make it even worse.

Shortly after, the door flew open and several teachers, led by Minerva, stormed in, wands drawn.

“The situation is under control”, Dumbledore informed them. “It seems Bartemius Crouch junior escaped Azkaban. Minerva, Filius, the two of you can surely find a safe place to lock him up until the Aurors arrive?”

“Certainly”, Minerva replied. “Mr. Longbottom, are you alright?“

“Yes, Professor. Don’t worry about me.”

“Splendid”, Dumbledore said in an inappropriately cheerful voice. “Everyone else can go back to the Great Hall. The students should be informed that Gryffindor common room is off limits for half an hour or so.”


With Crouch out of the room, Severus allowed himself to close his eyes. There was only so much pain he was willing to endure to protect his dignity.


“Now, Neville, would you tell me what, exactly, has happened?”, he heard Dumbledore ask.


“I was walking to the Great Hall with the others, but then I noticed I had forgotten my Remembrall, so I went back to get it. I had just gotten inside here when I noticed something was following me. Before I could turn around, someone held a knife to my throat. He told me to walk up the stairs and said he would wait until Harry notices I am missing and goes after me.”

“So he was after Harry, indeed. Do continue.”

“I tried to tell him that Harry wouldn’t come, but he said he would just wait, and I didn’t know what to do, so I thought perhaps he would let me go if he thought I was dead. Weyberries aren’t really all that poisonous if you don’t chew the kernels, and I thought he’d probably not know that, because almost no one ever cares about Herbology and it is only in some library books, so I ate some and pretended to be unconscious.”

“Very clever. Well done, Neville. What happened then?“

“I am not sure, sir. Crouch tried to get me to throw up, then he gave up, and somewhen after that, Professor Snape put a spell on him and told me to stop pretending. I kept my eyes closed, so I’m not sure what happened.”


“Thank you, Neville. Ah, that will be Madam Pomfrey.”

And sure enough, the healer walked in.

“Mr. Longbottom, you have swallowed Weyberries?”, she asked briskly.

“Yes, Madam. Five. Didn’t chew the kernels.“

„Take this.“ She handed him a phial. „Report to me if you notice any symptoms.“

Then she turned her attention to Severus. “Let me have a look at you. The Headmaster may say you have a concussion, but I like to be sure.”

Severus suffered silently while she performed her diagnostic spells. “It is a concussion alright, but Severus, what spell did he use? In a muggle, this kind of concussion would not be very noteworthy, but in a wizard ... I don’t think any healer has seen the likes of it since that horrid game Creaothceann has been outlawed.”


That game, Severus recalled, involved catching big rocks in a cauldron strapped to your head. “I did not hear an incantation”, he stated truthfully.

She clucked her tongue. “Well, I can heal the bone, but you will need strict bed rest for a week.”

And then, finally, she did heal the bone.

It didn’t ease the pain by much.

When Dumbledore told everyone to stay in the Great Hall while he and some of the teachers left, it didn’t take long for Harry to notice that someone was missing. “Where’s Neville?”

“Went back to get his Remembrall”, Hermione replied immediately. Then, realisation dawned on her face. “Oh no! Do you think there’s a troll again?“

„Could be anything”, Harry said. “We have to do something.”

“Something sensible, this time.” Hermione got up. „I’ll tell Professor Sprout.“

„Professor Sprout can’t do anything“, Ron protested, but followed them to the High Table.

Hermione told the professor that Neville had gone back to fetch his Remembrall.

“The Headmaster got a message from Professor Snape”, the Herbology teacher explained. “Which means that even if your friend is in danger, Professor Snape is there to protect him.”

“That’s not exactly reassuring”, Ron mumbled under his breath when they returned to the Gryffindor table.

“Come on, I don’t like Professor Snape, either, but you have to admit that he is a good fighter”, Hermione replied. “Just think of the duelling club. He absolutely wiped the floor with Professor Lockhart.”

“Well, anyone could do that.”

“Professor Snape did save me after the Basilisk got me”, Harry reminded Ron. “I’m sure Neville is okay.” Well, except for the accusations of foolishness that would probably follow his rescue, but Neville would recover from those.


The door opened. Professor Sinistra and Professor Vector had returned. They talked to Professor Sprout, who then asked for silence.

“It is now safe to leave the Great Hall”, she announced. “However, Gryffindor Tower is off limits for half an hour, as the damages done by the criminal who was caught there have to be repaired.”

After that, Professor Sprout walked towards Gryffindor table, ignoring all the questions thrown at her until she arrived at where Hermione, Ron and Harry were sitting.

“Neville is alright”, she told them. “Madam Pomfrey might have taken him to the Hospital Wing for the shock, but there is no need to worry.”

“So that criminal did attack him?”, Hermione asked.

“He seems to have tried, but it looks like Professor Snape was able to subdue him before he could hurt Neville.”

“Was Professor Snape hurt?” She’d probably have mentioned it if Snape had been killed, but somehow, Harry was still worried.

Professor Sprout frowned. “Not very seriously, in any case”, she said slowly. “He sat on the couch when my colleagues arrived.”

She didn’t say any more, and left to talk to the Hufflepuffs, but Harry had heard enough.

So, apparently, had Hermione. “Sat on the couch? In Gryffindor common room? He must be half dead.“

„At least unable to stand“, Harry agreed. Considering that Snape had walked around on a leg that Fluffy had chewed on for much of last year, and considering how much he hated Gryffindor, it was hard to imagine he would sit down in their common room unless he absolutely had to.






On the way to the hospital wing, they met Neville.

“I’m so sorry”, he blurted out.

They stared at him. “What are you sorry for?”, Hermione finally asked.

“Um. Uh. You know the rooster you rescued from Malfoy?”

Harry felt like there was a ball of ice in his stomach all of a sudden. “The criminal got him?”

“No, but ... he’s gone. I wanted to check on him after everything was over, and he was gone. I looked under the beds and everything. And I didn’t open the window, honest!“

Hermione took charge and led them to an empty classroom where she got the entire story from Neville.

“Where did Professor Snape come from so suddenly?”, she asked after hearing it.

“I had my eyes closed”, Neville replied.

“Did you hear the door open?”

“No. It was like he apparated. Perhaps it was because I mentioned him ...”

Hermione shook her head. “You can’t apparate in Hogwarts. So … you didn’t see that man hit Professor Snape with a spell?”

“No, but he must have.”

“There is one other explanation”, Hermione said slowly. “An explanation you are not going to like, Harry. Not at all.”

“What? Why me?”

“We have a black rooster who vanished. We have a Professor Snape who appeared seemingly out of nowhere. The rooster was attacked by Malfoy and was in a real bad state. Professor Snape has a concussion and Neville didn’t witness a curse ...”

Ron paled. “You mean ...?”

„You think he accidentally ate some of Fred and George’s Chicken Candy?“ But that wouldn’t be an explanation Harry would dislike. Quite the opposite. He would be happy the rooster hadn’t been killed, and he certainly wouldn’t regret having saved Snape. Surely Hermione wouldn’t think that?

“No. I think he might be an animagus. Like Professor McGonagall. I heard she can turn herself into a cat.”

Harry frowned. “How does she remember to turn back?“

“That’s the thing about animagi, Harry! It’s completely different from the normal transfiguration spells. They keep their human mind when they’re animals.”


Harry thought about it. The rooster had not been in Hagrid’s chicken pen. It had been all alone, without any other chickens nearby. It had swallowed the medicine without complaint, and not tried to peck at him when in extreme pain. And the incident with the basilisk ... there had been a rooster, there, too, and a mysteriously appearing potions master. „Oh. Shit.“ Hermione was right, it all made sense, and ... Snape would remember. Harry had petted that rooster!

He was so dead.

The things he had said …

So, so, dead.

“He’ll murder me.” It was the most embarrassing thing that had ever happened in his life!

And with Dudley’s hobby of humiliating Harry in front of other children, that was saying something.


“Don’t be silly. Why would he murder you for saving his life?”

Hermione had a point, and Harry didn’t actually think Snape would murder him, not after going to all this trouble in order to save his life, but still. “He’ll make my life hell, then.”

“Harry, he can’t do anything without admitting that he’s an animagus. And I don’t think he wants anyone to know.”

“So far, he has managed to make my life hell without any reason at all.”

“You thought he was an animal, he won’t hold it against you that you treated him like one, I mean, that would be very unreasonable - ” Hermione interrupted herself, probably she had remembered just who they were talking about.

“We could blackmail him into being ni-“ Ron, too, interrupted himself. “Um. I mean, we could blackmail him into not being as nasty as he wants to.”

“Right now, it is just a theory”, Hermione reminded them. “I mean, I am pretty sure I am right, but I could still be wrong. We need more information. Harry, you said that rooster reminded you of the one you met at the Burrow?”

“Yeah.” Which was strange. Unless completely black chickens were a lot more common than Harry had thought they were.

“Could that rooster have been Professor Snape, too? Did you see them both at the same time, Ron?”

“He couldn’t have. He was actually nice to Harry. Besides, Dumbledore checked that rooster, so he couldn’t have been an animagus.”

“Checked him? For what? Which spells did he use?“

“No idea, he went to the shed to do it. Said the chicken was totally harmless when he got back.”

Hermione looked at him thoughtfully. “He didn’t say the rooster was not an animagus, did he?”

“Er, no?”

“And he trusts Professor Snape, so if he knew it was him, he wouldn’t have been worried.”

“He didn’t tell me who the rooster belongs to”, Harry said, blood rising to his face. If Snape didn’t only know about the chicken incident, but had been there the whole time ... “I really wanted to know, but Dumbledore refused to tell me ...”

Ron shook his head. “Calm down, mate. Hermione, I’m not saying you’re wrong about the rooster we found here, but the one back at the Burrow ... Ginny cooed over him. It was horrible. Snape would have murdered her after five minutes, tops.“

„I don’t think Professor Snape would murder anyone“, Neville said quietly.

Everyone stared at him. Harry realized, with a pang of conscience, that he had almost forgotten Neville was even there.
It was so easy to forget about him.

“Well, obviously not, he’s a teacher, he can’t - ” Hermione began, but then she seemed to remember Quirrell and fell silent.

“He didn’t kill that man who attacked me”, Neville stated calmly. “If he doesn’t even kill criminals who attack Hogwarts students, then he wouldn’t murder Ginny for – for being a bit silly. I think you are right, Hermione.”


Ron stared at him. “But you used to be terrified of Snape. Are you sure?”

“I’m still scared of him”, Neville admitted. “But he’s not a killer.” He looked thoughtful. “Actually”, he added. „My uncle Algie came closer to getting me killed than Snape.“

“What?!”

Neville told Hermione about his uncle, and she stared at him in shock. “Your uncle tried to kill you?”

“He didn’t want me dead, he just wanted me to show some magic”, Neville said, shrugging.




Now, with Hermione’s reaction, Harry wondered if he shouldn’t have been more shocked. Back then, an uncle who almost got his nephew killed hadn’t seemed much out of the ordinary. Uncle Vernon was the same, after all.

“Yeah, it’s not meant to kill anyone”, Ron agreed. “Lots of people do that sort of thing. Mum thinks it’s barbaric, obviously. Fred and George used to pretend doing it with Ginny, but just to get a rise out of Percy, they’d never actually throw her in the pond.”



Eventually, they returned to Gryffindor common room and went back to their usual pastimes.

Harry only thought of the discussion again when he entered the dormitory. The towel he had placed under the rooster was still there, and so were the saucers with food and water.

The only peculiar thing was that the towel was entirely clean.

Surely, a real chicken would have needed to go to the toilet once in a while?

A wizard could have used a cleaning charm ... especially if said wizard was Snape.

Harry followed Ron to the bathroom. “When I was a chick ...”, he began.

Ron nodded, finished brushing his teeth and spit out the foam. “Yeah?”

“That’s a bit embarrassing, but ... did I go to the toilet?”

“Well, you didn’t exactly go anywhere, but yeah. You behaved like a normal chick.”

“And the rooster?”

Ron frowned. “Oh Merlin. Mum did rave about how well behaved he was, he only ever used the old newspapers in that cardboard box …“ He had gone very pale, his freckles standing out more than ever. “Sometimes I wish Hermione wasn’t always right.”

„Me too, me too.“


Later, when he was in his bed with the curtains drawn around him, he had plenty of time to think about the whole matter.

And to remember all the things he had told that rooster. While petting him.

The next morning, Harry was nibbling on a piece of toast, worried and relieved at the same time by Snape’s absence from the High Table when a barn owl swooped over the table and dropped a letter on his plate.

A letter from Sirius!

Harry ripped it open. Sirius had heard of the Death Eater attack and wanted to know if Harry was alright.

Grinning, Harry folded the parchment and put it in his pocket. He definitely could get used to this.

Perhaps even to the point where he’d be embarrassed by the fussing, like Neville, who had hastily shoved his grandmother’s concerned letter in his pocket.


He met Neville later in the dorm, where he tried to answer his grandmother’s letter on a piece of parchment he had placed on his trunk.

“I got a letter from Sirius”, he confided. “He’s worried. Um, what do you write to your grandma? The Dursleys never worried about me, I’m not really sure what Sirius expects me to write.“

Neville looked at him, uncertain, as if he had never been asked for advice before. “Well, Grandma asked whether I wanted to go home for the rest of the holidays, so I have to tell her that it’s okay. And of course she doesn’t know what happened, so I’m telling her that. Professor Snape said I was powerful, I bet she’ll like that.”

Harry stared at him. “Snape complimented you?”

“Not really. He still doesn’t think I’m good at magic. Just that I can get people killed. He said, that man – Crouch – surviving wasn’t important to him, so I ought to just fire some spell at him if he moved.”

“Oh.” That sounded more like Snape. “But you were real clever too, you tricked him. Crouch, I mean”

“I suppose.” Neville blushed a bit.

“Do you think Sirius wants to know what happened? It’s not like I was there, and I’ll have to leave out the rooster, Snape’ll murder me if that gets out, but ...”

“I am making it look like Professor Snape was really there because he was looking for me. That’ll make her feel better about letting me stay in Hogwarts, knowing that the teachers keep an eye on us.”

“Splendid, I’ll do that, too.“ Harry didn’t think Sirius would want to take him out of Hogwarts, and he wasn’t even sure the man could do that, if even the Dursleys couldn’t, but he didn’t want Sirius to worry unnecessarily.

“Dear Sirius”, he wrote after thinking about it for a moment.

“the Daily Prophet exaggerates stuff. I wasn’t even in the dorm when Crouch was there. He got Neville and held him hostage, but not for long. Neville ate some poisonous berries that weren’t all that poisonous and pretended to be dying, and then, when Crouch was distracted, Professor Snape came in and fought him. (He’s our potions teacher, but there’s rumours he wants to teach Defence, he’s really good at that, too.)
Neville is Professor Snape’s least favourite student because he always melts his cauldrons in potions, and I guess he had a detention to be in for some of his mishaps, so Professor Snape got worried when he didn’t turn up. (Neville never talks back to teachers, he’d never try and skip detention).

So, nothing too bad really happened. Neville is fine after Madam Pomfrey gave him an antidote, and Professor Snape will be fine in a couple days, I guess. He talked to Neville after the fight, so whatever he has can’t be too bad, can it?”

That, Harry decided, sounded sufficiently reassuring. After glancing at Neville’s letter, he added some bits about enjoying his holidays.


Harry was not prepared for the answer that arrived in the evening of the same day.

“Dear Harry,

Professor Snape? Not Severus Snape? There was a slimy git of that name in our year, but I can’t imagine old Snivellus becoming a teacher, having to look at his ugly mug for a double lesson would be torture!

I’m glad you’re unharmed. I’ve been meaning to come visit you for a while, now that my life is back on track and I don’t look like an escaped convict anymore. I could come watch your next Quidditch match, what do you say?”


Harry didn’t feel as excited over his godfather coming to watch him play Quidditch as he thought he ought to.

Why was there a whole paragraph about Snape? Wasn’t Harry’s safety more important?

Feeling unable to sleep anytime soon, Harry returned to the common room, where Hermione was still busy revising ... something.

She looked up from her book. “Harry? Everything okay?”

“Yeah, I guess ...” He shrugged. „Sirius is going to come see the next Quidditch match.“

“But that’s great. What’s the problem?”

“I don’t know. Something about his letter rubs me the wrong way.”

Hermione frowned. „Perhaps he isn’t so harmless after all, and your subconscious is picking up on it. I read a book about that.”

“Possibly?” He didn’t think so. He didn’t feel any more scared than when Ron was being a git. Just ... disappointed. “What do you think of this letter?”

She scanned it, reading much faster than Harry could ever have. “That’s weird.”

“What is weird?”

“Well, there’s the fact that he is more interested in our teacher than you being safe, or so it looks, and also he dislikes Professor Snape for all the wrong reasons! He doesn’t even mention that he doesn’t think the boy he knew would make a good teacher.”

Harry stared at Hermione. “You don’t think Snape is a good teacher?” She’d always listened to every word Snape said during lessons, even when they had thought he was trying to murder Harry.

She stared back. “Why, of course not! He doesn’t manage to teach you much, does he?“

“Well, no, but I figure that’s mostly my fault.”

“He’s brilliant, of course, but you can’t insult people and expect them to be interested in what you talk about, can you?”

“You are interested in what he says”, Harry pointed out.

“Yes, well, as I said, he’s brilliant. But for people like you and Ron, who aren’t very interested in the subject anyway ...”

“I was interested before he went and ruined it for me”, Harry defended himself. He took the letter from Sirius back. “You are right, you’d expect Sirius to say something like ‘the man hates children, hated children when he himself was one and should never have become a teacher’ or something.”

Hermione helped him formulate a response, where he mentioned that Snape had saved him from being turned into a chick the year before and asked what the man had been like in school.

And of course, Harry mentioned that he’d be delighted to see Sirius at his Quidditch match.


When lessons started again, their first double lesson of Potions was cancelled. Ginny told them she’d overheard Lockhart offering to substitute for Snape, but thankfully, Dumbledore must have refused.

The rumours that had already started after the attack got even worse after that.

Fred and George started taking bets on whether Snape was dead.

Harry couldn’t bear it anymore. He fetched his invisibility cloak and sneaked to the Hospital Wing.

There was one boy with what looked like extreme curse damage, but no one else.

Well, Madam Pomfrey, of course.

Frustrated, Harry was about to head back to the Gryffindor common room for the remainder of the potions lesson, when he realized that there was one more thing he could do.

He went to a secluded corner, took off his invisibility cloak, and repeated his visit to the Hospital Wing.


“Mr. Potter.” Madam Pomfrey frowned. „I do hope you are not injured?“

„No, no, don’t worry. Um. I wondered … Potions was cancelled … well, if … Professor Snape is okay?“ He half-mumbled the last part of the sentence and spoke too quickly.

„Oh. Him.” Madam Pomfrey pursed her lips. “He insisted on returning to his rooms. Claimed he could recover better there.”

Harry was surprised at how much relief he felt. “So he’s okay?”

“If he isn’t, it is not my fault.” Madam Pomfrey sighed and took an old fashioned watch out of her pocket. “There.”

It was like the Weasleys’ clock, Harry realized. The watch had only two hands. One was inscribed with a name Harry didn’t recognize, and the hand pointed to “Awake, in no imminent danger. Needs treatment.”

The other one had the name “Severus Snape” on it, and it pointed at “Asleep. In no imminent danger. Slightly dehydrated.”

“Where he ought to be”, Madam Pomfrey said approvingly as she took the watch back. “But of course he didn’t call a house elf to fetch him water. Typical. I will send someone.“

„So he can’t get something to drink himself?“, Harry asked, alarmed again.

“Oh, he could. But I explicitly told him not to move unless absolutely necessary. Seems he is heeding my instructions.” She pocketed the watch. „There is no need to worry, Mr. Potter“, she continued in a gentler tone. “If he continues to heed my advice, Professor Snape will be teaching again by next week. Was there anything else?”

“No, Ma’am. Thank you.“


The next week, Snape was indeed back.

He did not give any excuse for his absence, but instead started the lesson as if nothing at all had happened.

Letting his gaze roam over the class, he at least paused to glare at Neville. “Mr. Longbottom.”

Neville seemed to shrink in his seat. Snape concentrating on you like this usually didn’t bode well.

“Despite your repeated attempts to prove the opposite in my class, you do seem to be in possession of a brain. So, do tell me ... what is the most insidious property of the weyberry?”


It seemed to take Neville a while to process the fact that Snape had actually asked him something he knew.

The most unusual thing, Harry mused, was that Snape knew that Neville knew.

“Um. It ... er ... the kernels are the most poisonous part, sir. The berries themselves are almost safe to eat if you spit the kernels. And you will only be moderately poisoned if you don’t chew the kernels. Symptoms of poisoning will set in about a quarter of an hour after eating them. They include - ”

“Correct, Mr. Longbottom“, Snape replied, his voice sounding slightly disgruntled as always when a Gryffindor could answer his questions. “What are the properties of fluxweed?”

Even Harry was surprised when Neville answered that question in as much detail as Hermione would have, albeit with a lot more stuttering at the beginning.

The rest of the lesson was theory, too, but Snape completely ignored Harry.

“Well, that was almost civil, for Professor Snape”, Hermione concluded when they had left the classroom. “Of course, he really should have given Neville points for knowing that about weyberries. It is only in one book in the library, and not in the Herbology book or the Potions book! I didn’t even know before Neville told us!”

They waited for Neville to catch up to them, he seemed in a daze. “Did I just dream that?”, he asked. “Or did I really not lose Gryffindor any points in this lesson?”

“I was just telling Harry and Ron”, Hermione said. “You really should have been given points for knowing that obscure fact about weyberries! And you would also have known all the poisoning symptoms, wouldn’t you?”

“Um, yeah, I guess?” Neville shrugged, blushing pink. “Plants are just fascinating. Did you know that one of the symptoms is seeing a purple swirl of colour when you close your eyes?”

Hermione had not known, but found it very fascinating, and soon, Harry tuned the conversation out.

After another fruitless conversation with the Headmaster, Severus had had enough.

He knew perfectly well you could not threaten people into treating children decently. His father had been immune both to the theoretical threat of Severus’ mother using her magic against him – it was still possible, downtrodden though she was – and the child protection services alerted by the well-meaning Evans parents.

His father had not exactly locked him in his room to starve him – just drinking away the money they had had for food had been enough – and not exactly beaten him ... except a clip around the ear here and there, that was ... the general level of abuse might be about the same the Dursleys enacted on their nephew.

And such people knew exactly how far they could go, and they would go that far, knowing no threats against them would be made good of until they exceeded some limit. They would be careful to not break any bones in the child’s body, oh no. They would, perhaps, continue starving him until he was close to death, thinking they could always feed him back up and deny everything ... and then he would get an infection and die in his weakened state, and they would be very sorry indeed – Severus would make sure of that – but it wouldn’t be any use, then.

Sending the boy back to his relatives was madness.

Plan A had been to convince Albus, very fitting. And plan B also had a fitting name. Severus hated plan B.

Plan B was to get Black to help.

Sadly, he didn’t have a plan C. A pity. He would have loved a plan that involved Charity – the Muggle Studies teacher was inoffensive and laughed at his jokes about Lockhart – but he didn’t know her nearly well enough to ask her to meddle in things Dumbledore didn’t want any meddling in.

Perhaps he ought to have planned to get the Chudley Cannons to hire Potter, but as the boy was underage, even the famously inept team wouldn’t even think of taking him.

So, Black it was.

Severus sat down to pen a letter:

“By now, you will already have realized Dumbledore won’t let the boy stay with you. If you want to make sure your godson lives, meet me in the Hog’s Head, nine o’ clock, this Thursday.

S. Snape”

There, the ominous hint about Harry’s life being in danger ought to do it. Black would turn up.


Sighing, Severus stared at the dried stain of ... whatever it was on the table before him. He had even chosen the cleanest table in the Hog’s Head.

The only way the innkeeper could be making a business was with people going here to conduct their shady business in the relative privacy of everyone else around them also being engaged in shady business.

Ordinarily – that was, if meeting with some Death Eater, or something the like - Severus would have chosen the Three Broomsticks or perhaps even Madam Puddifoot’s to conduct any shady business, as the mere fact of being in the Hog’s Head put you under suspicion, whereas having a chat with a ‘respectable citizen’ like Lucius Malfoy in the Three Broomsticks might look as if he’d accidentally run into the man and had to be civil.

However, in this case, it was essential that the Headmaster didn’t learn of his meeting with Black, and the Hog’s Head was the only place where he at least had a decent chance to not be seen by other teachers.

After being told he had to order something if he wanted to stay, Severus decided on a bottle of Butterbeer.

The bottle was dusty and – Severus checked – several years past its date of expiry. Well, the barkeep hadn’t said he had to consume something.

Severus scolded himself for being so stupid – he should have ordered a glass of water and simply poured it away.

He let his eyes roam over the place.

In one dark corner, there were two hags, likely plotting how to kidnap Hogwarts children. Not a big threat, since the wards wouldn’t let them near the school and at year three, children were already too old for the hags’ culinary tastes.

Another dark corner, two men playing dice ... no, none of them was Hagrid, thank Morgana, the groundskeeper would immediately have told all his acquaintances that he had spotted Severus having a friendly chat with Black, delighed they had finally become friends.

Also, Severus really wasn’t keen on having to dispose of yet another illegal beast Hagrid had acquired from one of those mysterious strangers that always seemed to know whom they could sell, or even gift, their illegal beasts to when all else failed.

The other dark corner, a single person of unidentifiable sex, in a dark hooded cloak. Likely just some harmless shop assistant trying to be mysterious on the weekend. People who really meant business rarely wore hooded cloaks. In their spare time, that was. Lucius Malfoy wouldn’t be seen in Death Eater robes anywhere but at the Dark Lord’s side, that was for sure.

Another dark corner, a lanky, dark-haired young man whose bottom was surrounded by a wet spot. Either incontinent or half Selkie. And apparently too inept at magic to clean up after himself.

Severus could have gone on, as the place had a larger number of dark corners than any reasonably built and lit building ought to have, but at that moment, the door opened and Sirius Black swaggered in as if he owned the place.

Merlin, Severus had almost forgotten how much he hated the man.

Almost.

Black looked around and then confidently strode towards the cloaked person Severus had noticed earlier.

Let him embarrass himself, or alert him as to avoid drawing more attention than absolutely necessary? Hmm.

The person looked up, pushed back the hood and revealed a young, female face and honey-coloured hair.

Damn, that really was the Honeydukes shop assistant! He had been joking to himself about that.

And she looked really delighted to have drawn Black’s attention.

Black’s face was an amusing sight for a moment. Then, he caught himself, winked at the young woman and looked around.

Finally his gaze fell on Severus, who was – of course – wearing his green robes. He wasn’t stupid enough to wear something that would cause even people who didn’t know him personally to recognize him at first sight. Like his midnight black teaching robes.

Severus considered making an acerbic comment about Black being stupid enough to assume he would wear a hood on a mild May day, but thought better of it. He didn’t want to give Black opportunity to comment on his allegedly feminine looks.

Just because he wasn’t packed with more muscles than a skilled wizard could reasonably need didn’t mean his shoulders weren’t considerably wider than his hips, instead of the other way round.

But of course, such details had always evaded Black.

“Oy, Snivellus, why are you in disguise?”

“Disguise? I am wearing Slytherin colours”, Severus retorted, wordlessly casting a Muffliato spell around the table. “Specifically so that even the most imbecilic idiot would be able to recognize me immediately. And do be civil, Black. Your godson’s life is at stake.”

“Is it?” Black flopped into the chair opposite Severus’. „And whose fault is that?”

Severus raised an eyebrow. Did Black imply it was his fault? “How much has he told you about the family he lives with?”

“Not much. Just that he’s sure they won’t miss him if he stays the summer with me.” Black frowned, apparently thinking about this strained his three brain cells.

“Then let me enlighten you, Black. The boy stays at Hogwarts during all the holidays. He only goes back to his family in the summer, and he tells you they won’t miss him if he doesn’t show up. What does that tell you about them?”

Black shrugged. “I guess they don’t like him much. Same as my dear old mum, I suppose.“

Severus hadn’t concerned himself much with Black’s home life. Black certainly didn’t look malnourished, and Regulus had always been home during the holidays.

And Black ... Black had stayed over the holidays in first year, much to Severus’ dismay, but after that ... after that, he had always been away, which made Severus’ holidays so much nicer, Lily-less though they sometimes were.

Curious. But he could think about that later.

“They probably starve him”, Severus said, with a carefully studied air of disinterest. “Of course, the headmaster is sure he will be safe ...”

“Spit it out, Snape. What do you propose I do? I already talked to Dumbledore.”

“Oh, he will never change his mind.” After all, Severus had tried time and again. If even Black, one of his golden Gryffindor boys, couldn’t change his mind, there was nothing to be done. “But as I understand, you have ways to disguise your identity.”

Black glared at him. “What are you implying?”

“Only that Pettigrew, the little rat, could never have become an animagus without help.” After going through the process himself, he was sure of that. Keeping a leaf in your mouth without accidentally swallowing it was not something the clumsy boy could have accomplished without his friends’ collaboration. Severus didn’t recall a time of blessed silence on the four toerags’ part, but that didn’t mean much, you hardly ever noticed the absence of suffering.
And of course, he always had wondered why they didn’t seem to be afraid of their werewolf friend.

Werewolves didn’t attack animals. Now, that was a possible upside to even the weakest animagus form he hadn’t thought of before.

“And assuming I had, as you put it, ways of disguising my identity, what then?”

“Well, your precious godson already has an owl, but I do think he might be able to smuggle in another pet. Your friend enjoyed his lazy life as young Mr. Weasley’s pet rat, you know?”

“Peter isn’t my friend”, Black growled. “And ... suppose my animagus form wasn’t something so small?”

Severus had expected that. “That’s what you need my help for. I am a teacher at Hogwarts. I can convince them he needs to watch an animal as task for Care of Magical Creatures ... provided, of course, your form is small enough to still be somewhat reasonable for a pet.”

Black nodded absent-mindedly. So his animagus form was, indeed, pet-sized. “So how do I know this isn’t just a trap so you can sell me out to the ministry for being an unregistered animagus?”

“You aren’t registered?” Severus put on a fake shocked expression. “Why, I had no idea!”

Black just glared at him.

“As for it being a trap, no, luring people to their doom by implying their loved ones are in danger is much more your style, Black. I am above that.”

“What are you talking of?”

“You know perfectly well when you tried to lure me to my death, Black, and how you did it.” Had the detestable toerag not hinted that Lily had gotten the same message and would surely go there to help poor Lupin, Severus wouldn’t ever have set a foot out of his comfortable bed that night.

“How dare you call her - ”

“You thought I would come”, Severus cut him off. “You thought you needed to mention her to lure me out of the safety of the Slytherin dorm. Pretend all you like, but I have proof of what you believed.” He would not admit to his love for Lily. He did not regret that slip of the tongue, and she undeniably had been his dearly loved friend, but if Black was too daft to recognize that fact, Severus wouldn’t give him verbal affirmation even of that.

Black gave him another angry glare. “How do I know it is not a trap?”, he insisted.

“You are free to register as animagus anytime you want. The ministry surely will forgive you for not doing so earlier, considering your illegal imprisonment.” Illegal, yet not undeserved. Better late than never ... but Black had attempted murder.

Twice, actually, but Pettigrew didn’t count.

And he had been an utter idiot. Make Pettigrew the secret keeper because no one would suspect him? Really?

Avoiding suspicion was important, but doing utterly, utterly imbecilic things just in the hopes that the enemy would never suspect your being quite that stupid ... it had been a catastrophe waiting to happen.

Even if Pettigrew hadn’t been a traitor from the start, anyone could have made him piss his pants with fear without even uttering a threat, and Severus wasn’t too sure if the Fidelius charm kept the secret keeper’s tongue tied if he felt threatened, as opposed to actual torture.

Black totally deserved Azkaban. Well, at least as much of it as he had gotten.

And he deserved the humiliation of knowing it was entirely thanks to Severus that he even got out, but Severus couldn’t spill that particular secret without making his animagus form public, so ... that could never be.

“Apart from you being an illegal animagus, the entire risk is on me, though I don’t think the ministry will be too concerned about someone playing a prank on some muggles. The only one who tends to give a damn is Arthur Weasley, and he will immediately understand that it was a necessary safety precaution.

Black nodded. “Right. I guess I will get registered, then, just to be safe.“ He was lying – Black was a terrible liar who could only get away with it in letters. But Severus would let him keep the illusion that he was buying it.

“Good. I don’t care if you trust me.“

Black’s eyes narrowed. „Why are you doing this, Snape? Why are you helping me? I know you only saved Harry in summer because Dumbledore made you, but why do you offer to help me now? What do you want?”

Oh, of course.

Severus had thought of something to ask in return, it would have been remiss not to, but he was a bit surprised. He would have assumed Harry would at least have told his godfather about one of the times Severus saved him, and given the weak ‘Potter senior saved his life’ excuse Dumbledore had provided him with.

Just as well, though. Black might not have bought that excuse. He knew that Severus never owed Potter anything. Saving someone’s life didn’t count if you were in on the plan that endangered it in the first place.

“Oh, well ... either a favour to be called in at a later date – though I would have to make you swear an unbreakable vow on that ...”

“Absolutely not!” Black roared, so loudly Severus feared the noise of it might get through his Muffliatio charm.

“Calm down. I said there was an alternative. I want to know what happened to Regulus. Your brother.”

Black frowned. “Regulus? What do you mean, you want to know? You don’t know already?”

“Obviously not. I was under the impression that his fate was universally unknown. So, you do know?” That was unexpected but he could still accept the information as ‘payment’.

“No! But I – I just figured Voldemort offed him.You would know about that, wouldn’t you?”

“The Dark Lord was never very free with information. I did not, for example, know about Pettigrew before last year.” Obviously, or the rat would have been dead before he could have betrayed Lily. “I wish to search the Black townhouse for any hints of what happened to Regulus. From what he told me, he was going to inherit it, but I suppose it must have gone to you now?”

“Oh, that dirty old place. Yeah, it’s mine. Nose around in there all you want”, Black said with a dismissive gesture.
Then he seemed to remember that he was trying to barter. “After you smuggle me in as Harry’s pet, of course. Start of the next term, when all has gone well, you can have a look at the house.”

“I would not have gone without you, anyway”, Severus replied haughtily. “If there’s only half the curses on the house that are on the Malfoy family’s residence, I don’t want to set foot in there without the rightful heir accompanying me. Oh, and I will tell Dumbledore that you are willing to show me around out of the goodness of your heart. Just to be on the safe side.” Black was a weak duellant, but with his family’s accumulated magical power in his back, he had a chance to finally succeed with the murder he had attempted as teen.

He probably was too stupid to successfully avoid suspicion for the crime, but he had always been one to overestimate his cunning, and him going to Azkaban wouldn’t help Severus any if he was dead.

“Oh, in fact, why don’t you tell Dumbledore right now that you are going to show me around at the start of next term? As you won’t swear an unbreakable vow, I won’t get any more safety than that, but you should at least have to answer to Dumbledore if you try to back out”, Severus added, almost reflexively.

He knew Black wouldn’t try to cheat him. Not because Black was honest – he wasn’t - but because Black didn’t give a damn about what happened to the old townhouse, and liked to think highly of his own integrity.

In short, Black would keep his given word as long as he had to sacrifice absolutely nothing for it.

“Right now?”

“A letter will do. Just let him know that I asked you to, and ask for his reassurance that he will search my quarters at Hogwarts for your family silver afterwards, or something like that.”

“Okay.”

It was obvious that Black’s hate of all things related to his family extended to the family silver, too, or he surely wouldn’t have agreed to let Severus search the place.

Perhaps he was so obscenely rich that he didn’t even realize that silverware wasn’t just for eating but had real material worth.

It was with a heavy heart that Harry stepped out of the Hogwarts express. Dumbledore had reassured him he had had a talk with Aunt Petunia, and the Dursleys wouldn’t try to lock him in his room again, and they wouldn’t be angry at him, either, they would, in fact, have forgotten all about it, was how Dumbledore had put it ... but they still were the Dursleys.

Harry knew what to expect from them at the best of times, and that wasn’t very good.

Hermione and Ron still believed he would stay with Sirius – he hadn’t had the heart to tell them, and Dumbledore had emphasized it was very secret, anyway.

Harry had to stay with his mother’s blood relatives because that was safer because some magic – he wasn’t quite sure he understood, but he trusted Dumbledore.

Still, he dreaded his summer. It was all the more bitter as he had looked forward to spending time with Sirius, who, except for his irrational hatred of Snape – for someone who hadn’t had the man as teacher, this hatred didn’t make sense – seemed really nice, and a lot more concerned about Harry’s wellbeing than the Dursleys. Not that that was hard.

“Don’t dawdle, Potter.”

Harry looked up. Snape! Hope blossomed in his chest. Perhaps Snape would do something? Spirit him away citing his absymal potions grades as reason he needed to go to magical summer school? Anything was better than the Dursleys.

“What are you doing here, sir?” Better not get his hopes up, perhaps Snape just wanted to go to Diagon Alley.

“I will have a chat with your relatives. But first, we will meet your assistance dog.”

“My what?”

“Due to the namby-pamby politics with regard to unruly children nowadays, instead of using the cane on you, we will give you a cuddly pet in the hopes that this will somehow improve your behaviour. I have been told it is the normal modus operandi at muggle schools these days.”

Harry had never heard of such a muggle school – well, it certainly wasn’t the case at Smeltings, even though they didn’t use the cane there. Not on boys like Dudley.

But perhaps one of those reform schools that Aunt Petunia had a lot of things to say about – none of them good – when gossiping with her neighbours.

“A pet?”

“Quite so. Luckier orphans get a fairy godmother, but you will see your pet is the next best thing. Come, Potter.”

A pet who would help him? Surely Snape didn’t mean to turn into his animagus form and accompany Harry? He had been surprisingly decent the past year, but he wouldn’t ... or would he? He had talked of a dog, so it couldn’t be him, but ...

They crossed the barrier to the muggle platform, and were met by a giant black dog that barked and wagged its tail.

“Is that your dog?”, a security guard asked. “I thought it belonged to ...” She turned her head and indicated a woman who was just about to board a train.

“I am temporarily in charge of this dog, yes. I regret I am so late, I should have picked it up earlier”, Snape said, coolly, but perfectly civil. “Good day, madam.”

He walked away, followed by the dog.

Or no, the dog was following Harry.

As soon as they had rounded a corner and were away from the guard, Snape took something from his pocket, pointed his wand at it, and it enlargened to become a sort of vest for a dog, with a leash on it.

“Your work uniform”, Snape said coolly to the dog, slipping the vest over it, and fastening it securely. “Oh, and before I forget it, your name is Fluffy. I could persuade Hagrid to lend me this beautiful bowl.” He took something else from his pocket, enlarged it and gave Harry a roughly whittled wooden bowl. Harry thought he recognized the style from the flute Hagrid had given him in his first year. The word ‘Fluffy’ was burned into the wood. “The water bowl got mouldy just about the time the original Fluffy was sent to Greece, but I don’t think that will pose a problem. I heard dogs prefer to drink from the toilet bowl, anyway.”

The dog growled at Snape, but immediately resumed wagging its tail when Harry started to back away from it.

Harry frowned. Something didn’t seem quite right. „I don’t think the Dursleys will want to feed a dog.“ Especially not a dog this large. “They hardly like to feed - ” He interrupted himself. “There’s Uncle Vernon, I better hurry.”

Snape and the dog followed him.

“Hurry up, boy, I haven’t got all day”, Vernon barked.

“Excuse me, sir”, Snape said, icily, his tone even colder than it had been with the dog. “You are Potter’s uncle?”

“Yeah, why?”

“He is a troublemaker”, Snape stated. Which was a clever move, Harry thought, because now he had Vernon’s undivided attention.

“However, the headmaster forbids me to use the cane on him.”

“Does he, now?” Vernon’s little pig eyes glittered with what Harry could only guess must be glee at there being a teacher who wanted to use a cane on Harry.

It did not evade Harry, however, that Snape had never claimed he wanted to hit Harry. Just that the Headmaster didn’t allow it.

“Instead, as is the namby-pamby way of schools nowadays, he will be accompanied by an assistance dog, in the hopes that it will improve his behaviour.”

The dog barked as if it had noticed it was being talked about, and wagged its tail.

“I am not paying for feeding that monster!”

Harry sighed. Of course not. He had never even dared dream of having a dog, but now that Snape had offered … he really did like the idea. The dog was really big, but nothing compared to Fluffy, and Harry hoped its tail-wagging meant that it liked him. Such a large dog might even be able to protect him from Dudley!

„It is not an ordinary dog. It should be able to hunt for its own food, provided that you let Potter walk it away from inhabitated places. You need not fear for his safety, the dog is capable of protecting him.” Snape glared at the dog. “Or perhaps it will eat Potter, in which case both of them cease to be your problem.”

Uncle Vernon laughed a bellowing laugh. “Fine. He can keep it as long as he keeps it under control.” He gave Harry a look. “Your dog is not allowed on the couch. Or in the kitchen. Or anywhere but your room.”

Big surprise there. Harry wasn’t sure even he was allowed on the couch. He certainly hadn’t been when it was new, and hadn’t yet tried if he was after Dudley had left a chocolate stain on it.

“Yes, Uncle Vernon.”

“Assistance dogs undergo very strict training routines”, Snape stated. “They obey every command of the person they assist, unless they have to prevent that person from walking into danger. Think of this one like the dogs blind people have, but instead for reckless dunderheads.”

The dog looked at Snape and growled, then started wagging its tail again and rubbed its head on Harry’s leg.

So Harry started his summer holidays, proud owner of a giant black dog whose main difference to the original Fluffy was that he had only one head.

It really was an extraordinarly well behaved dog. It laid down on the floor in the back of the car when Harry ordered it to – fortunately, Uncle Vernon’s car was big enough for that. Vernon always had American cars that were a lot larger than the average, and certainly a lot larger than the Weasleys’ Ford Anglia.

Well, on the outside, that was.

When they got home, the dog jumped out of the car straight after Harry. He didn’t need the leash at all, really, he just held it in his hand because he didn’t want it to drag on the floor.

Aunt Petunia wasn’t happy about the dog, but apparently Dumbledore had really talked to her, because she gave in after Uncle Vernon told her the dog would feed itself.

“And it stays off the furniture!”

“Yes, Aunt Petunia.”

As last year, Harry let Uncle Vernon lock his trunk in the cupboard under the stairs, then took Hedwig and the dog to his room and closed the door.

“Now there’s three of us”, he said with a sigh. “Misery loves company.”

The dog barked, then ... something happened.

Its shape changed. Harry watched in fascination as the fur melted away, the snout shortened ...

“Sirius!”

“Shhh, quiet!”

“So that was what Snape meant about fairy godmothers.” A dog godfather. Or a dogfather? Harry laughed out loud with relief. He didn’t need a fairy godmother when he had a wizard godfather.

“Yeah, I guess.” Sirius grinned. „Now, what do you think, should we get dinner at the Leaky Cauldron? My treat, of course. Or do you know a nice muggle place?“

“The Dursleys usually leave me at home when they eat out, so ... not really, but ... wait, we can’t go to London. That’s too far away.” Even if Sirius had managed to hide a flying car anywhere close by ...

“Why not? I am a wizard, Harry!”

Perhaps they would floo there? Or were they other ways of getting somewhere that he didn’t know about yet? “Oh. Right. Let’s go to London and find a nice muggle place to eat? But before you do any magic, we should tell the Dursleys I am taking you for a walk.”


Harry was seated in a nice Chinese restaurant and had his mouth full of noodles when he finally thought to ask: “Does Dumbledore know about this?”

Sirius didn’t scold him about talking with his mouth full, but instead answered, equally with a full mouth: “No. Snape offered to smuggle me in.”

“Seriously?”

“I am always Sirius.”

Harry laughed and almost chocked on his noodles, but fortunately, Sirius knew a spell to help him get air again.

“Yeah, I know, old Snivelly isn’t usually this helpful, but he wants to snoop around in the old Black house – I can’t stand the place anyway, so I agreed. Of course, if he had demanded something unreasonable, I’d just have tried to get you to smuggle me in by yourself.”

“I don’t think that’d have worked”, Harry said, careful to stop eating for a moment. “The Dursleys wouldn’t ever let me have a dog if it wasn’t an adult who told them I had to have one.”

Sirius nodded. “James really didn’t exaggerate. They are as horrid as he said.”

“They met him?”

“Only once, but yes, they did.”

“And they always told me he was a good-for-nothing drunk!”

“Did they?” Sirius looked like he wanted to growl.

“Yeah. That my dad didn’t work, and stuff.”

“Oh, that was true, in a way. Your father had enough money not to have to do paid work, Harry. He did ... well, not exactly charity work in the usual sense, but he didn’t get paid for fighting Voldemort.”

“And my mum?” Harry couldn’t believe he hadn’t asked earlier. “Did she have a job?”

“Nah, she ... well, she fought in the war, same as James, but after she had you she didn’t fight much anymore.”

“Oh. I thought ...” He didn’t want to imagine his mother as housewife. Not one like Aunt Petunia, who spent most of the day keeping the house perfectly clean and the rest gossiping and spoiling Dudley. Mrs. Weasley was different. With seven children, a large vegetable garden and livestock to take care of, she really couldn’t get another job.

But somehow, Harry didn’t think his mother had wanted quite such a large family.

“Don’t think she couldn’t have gotten a job, Harry. She was a quite clever witch, really.”

“Really?”

“Top of her year in potions.”

“Woah.” Harry grinned. „Wait. Wasn’t Snape in the same year?“

„Yeah, okay, he was top of the class, too, but let’s not count him.”

“No, that’s okay. Hermione says he’s brilliant, and she would know. She’s a genius herself.” His mum had been as smart as Snape. Which meant she must have been about as smart as Hermione when she had been their age.

It made a world of a difference to thinking of his parents as useless drunks. Hagrid had already told him they hadn’t been that, of course, but it was nice to know more.


So summer went on. Harry didn’t mind that the Dursleys never waited for him with dinner while he walked his ‘dog’ – Sirius always apparated them to London and treated him to meals in various muggle restaurants. After learning that Dumbledore wasn’t supposed to know about it, Harry had suggested they stay away from the magical world, even though Sirius said the risk of being discovered would have made it fun for James.

Perhaps his dad hadn’t had enough exitement in his life, Harry thought, but he would like a summer where everything went perfectly well, for a change.

With Sirius’ comforting presence next to him, even weeding the garden in the hot summer sun was not so bad.