Harry Potter darted around a corner, ducking as he went to dodge a suit of armor. He charged down the corridor at top speed, chancing a look behind him just in time to see a light flicker from around the corner. Harry whipped his head back around to see where he’s going, and was surprised to find that he was near the Astronomy Tower.

He made a split-second decision to sprint up the spiral staircase in the, likely vain, hope that Filch would assume he had gone right towards Gryffindor Tower.

After what felt like an interminable period filled with his panting and pounding heart alternating filling his ears, Harry made it to the top of the tower. He braced himself on the railing along the top of the tower and attempted to regain his breath. The moonlit view of the grounds, and the stars, and the lake was simply breathtaking, but he took in none of it.

Once he could breathe again, he moved away from the edge of the tower and moved backwards to brace his back against the door frame before quickly flinching away from it.

Harry wasn’t sure how he managed it, but he had managed to forget that his back still hadn’t healed from his last encounter with Vernon’s belt. He sighed and sat down on the rapidly cooling stones of the tower’s roof, and gently rested his back against the door frame. He closed his eyes and waited for his heart to stop pounding.

He opened his eyes again after a few quiet minutes and looked up at the sky. As had been his habit for the past few months, he scanned the sky for Sirius, the dog star.

After a long silence in which Harry stared at the night sky, he began to speak, “I miss you, Sirius. I’ve never felt so alone in my life. At least when I was a kid at the Dursley’s I didn’t really know what I was missing. But now I do know, and you’re not the only one who’s left me. Ron and Hermione have started dating, and they never seem to have time for me anymore. I see them every day, but we rarely talk, and I want to tell them I want to spend more time with them, but I don’t know how to do that and every time I try, I clam up and can’t go through with it. I’ve never had friends before Ron, you know.” Harry paused, and took a deep breath.

He continued, “At least I can take advantage of their absence to make up for all the time I should have spent studying over the years. I have to be ready to face Voldemort next time I face him. I can’t be responsible for any more people dying. I just can’t.”

“I wish you were here, I’m sure you’d have some great tips for dueling, and you could tell me how to tell Ron and Hermione that I’m being left out. Maybe I’d even tell you about this summer at the Dursley’s. They were worse than they’ve ever been before. I guess they blame me for the dementor attack, and that therapy that Dudley had to do. I don’t even want to think about it.” Harry sighed and closed his eyes.

With his eyes closed, he was suddenly reminded of Occlumency lessons with Snape last year and was filled with the same remorse, shame, and rage he always felt when reminded of that.

He really should not have invaded Snape’s privacy the way he did- hence the shame and remorse, but he had also tried to learn Occlumency, but the instruction he had received was not adequate for him to learn, which brought him back to the rage. This was also tied into how Snape had handled that confrontation in Umbridge’s office, but before Harry could spiral further, he grasped the memory of “Clear your mind!” and attempted to do so.

After some time during which he was semi-successful at clearing his mind, Harry opened his eyes and looked at his watch. He stared at it blankly for a few seconds before remembering that it hadn’t worked since the second task last year.

“Tempus” Harry incanted under his breath. At seeing the result, he made a sound of shock before looking up to the sky briefly for one last look at Sirius.

Then he shook his head and hurried out of the tower. He hadn’t meant to stay there that long, and now it was long after midnight rather than merely a few minutes after curfew when Filch had been chasing him.

He thought longingly of the Marauder’s Map and invisibility cloak sitting uselessly in his trunk and sighed. There was nothing for it but to head back to his dorm and hope it was too late for any professors to be patrolling.

“Harry! Where were you last night? Ron and I were worried sick! We thought for sure that you’d had a vision or that something unspeakably horrible had happened to you or that-“

“Relax Hermione! Let the poor guy get a word in edgewise.” Ron broke in, sharing an exasperated look with Harry.

Harry grinned at Ron. It was just like old times. Then he said, “It was neither of those things. You didn’t really need to worry. The worst thing that could have happened to me is detention from Filch.”

“But how were we to know that? There’s always trouble and danger following you.” Hermione said with a concerned look.

“It’s nowhere near the end of the year though! You know that trouble keeps its distance until right around finals,” Harry said with an unmistakable tone that meant he thought Hermione ought to have known that. “Anyways,” Harry continued, “did I miss anything other than a Hermione panic?”

“I’ll tell you on the way to breakfast, I’m absolutely starving!” Ron said, with typical enthusiasm.

“A nutritious breakfast is essential to a healthy diet, but Ron and I made plans to have breakfast with Professor McGonagall to discuss our career options.” Hermione said, with a significant look at Ron.

“Didn’t we already do that last year?” Harry asked, trying to ignore the rising suspicion that Ron and Hermione were lying to him.

“Of course, we did Harry, but I’ve done some more research and have some more questions that intrigued Ron, and that we want to ask her,” she said as if he should have already known that. “You should go and eat breakfast without us in the Great Hall, but we’ll be late if we don’t leave now!” Hermione finished in a rush as she grabbed Ron’s arm and began dragging him to the portrait hole.

“See ya mate!” Ron called over his shoulder as he disappeared into the hallway.

Harry looked away to hide the flash of hurt that was sure to show in his eyes. This would be the third time he’d be eating alone at breakfast in as many days, and there had been a time when practically nothing would prevent Ron and Hermione from eating with him.

He turned to head out for breakfast, alone.

But before he could get very far, “Wait up Harry!” Ginny called as she rushed down stairs.

Harry stopped, and turned to face Ginny. “Hey” he said, a lingering tone of sadness in his voice that he couldn’t manage to stop.

“Did you want to get breakfast with me? I heard Ron and Hermione had an appointment with ‘Mcgonagall’ and that they’re ditching you again” Ginny said, the disbelief evident in her voice.

Harry cleared his throat, and said, “Yeah, Hermione said that she and Ron have more questions for Mcgonagall. And I’d love to get breakfast with you.” Harry said. He continued, “Maybe you can tell me about whatever it was that Ron was going to tell me about.”

“I can definitely do that! He was probably going to tell you about Gryffindor’s newest student, not that there’s a whole to tell, but can we walk and talk to breakfast?” Ginny suggested as she moved towards the portrait hole. “I’m starving!” she exclaimed beckoning Harry to follow her.

“That sounds good” Harry said, and followed Ginny out of the common room.

Harry and Ginny walked through the hallways in companionably silence. Harry rarely got to spend time with Ginny without the company of one of her many brothers, regardless of if that time was spent here at Hogwarts or at the Burrow. He found that he rather liked her presence.

After some time, Harry broke the silence and asked, “So, what’s the deal with this new student? Why weren’t they at the sorting ceremony? They’re not a first year, are they?”

Ginny responded, “Like I said, there’s not a whole to tell, McGonagall didn’t really tell us much about him. All we know is that his name is Alfonse, he’s in your year, and he’s really standoffish.” She shrugged and continued, “He refused to talk to any of us at all last night and left immediately after McGonagall announced him.”

“A mystery then,” Harry said with a jocular lilt to his voice, “Hopefully a less dangerous mystery than the one’s I usually deal with.”

Conversation paused as they passed three fourth year Hufflepuffs.

Harry continued, “It’s weird, I didn’t see an extra bed in my dorm last night. Does that mean he’s sleeping somewhere else?”

Ginny pushed open the doors to the Great Hall and said, “I think McGonagall said that he’d be properly moving in later today.”

“So, I guess we’ll meet him soon,” Harry sat down and scanned down the table away from the door trying to spot an unfamiliar face, “It doesn’t look like he’s here yet.”

Ginny followed suit and started when Harry suddenly nudged her in the ribs and discretely pointed at a student down the table. “Is that him?” Harry asked quietly.

“No, you arse that’s Satchel Montmorrison, he’s a seventh- “

“Can I sit here?” Harry and Ginny quickly snapped their heads around to see a tall, blonde student with cropped hair, a short stubby nose, and light brown eyes, standing in front of them. “My name is Alfonse, by the way.”

Severus Snape narrowed his eyes at the bubbling cauldron. It had just turned a sapphire blue and all the previous trials went terribly wrong not long after the potion achieved this particular shade of blue.

The urge to start dumping any and every ingredient in his immediate vicinity into the cauldron in the hopes of salvaging the potion settled in as it occasionally did when a trial started going wrong.

However, his common sense prevailed, and he continued with his original plan that he had based on theories and the results of previous experiments, hopeful that this time he had pinpointed- and corrected, the problem with the potion.

Severus added exactly 10 mg of finely ground erumpet horn to the cauldron, stirred three time clockwise, and was about to stir six times counterclockwise when he heard someone enter his quarters.

After he had been discovered as a spy, his personal quarters had been warded even more heavily than they had ever been before, and his quarters had already been one of the highest security areas of the already secure castle.

Only himself and Albus Dumbledore himself had access. Even then, the only reason Dumbledore had access was because he insisted that someone needed to have access in the event that Severus injured himself while conducting one of his experiments.

Severus had agreed only reluctantly. While on some level he did agree that it was safer to have an exception to the wards, another equally loud part of him had screamed warnings at the thought of even one chink in the armor, so to speak.

Returning his thoughts to the present, Severus was able to easily contain the explosion that resulted from Dumbledore upsetting the balance of the magical energies in the lab.

He reached up to grab the neutralizer from the shelf above his cauldron and dumped in the appropriate amount to prevent what was left in the cauldron from reacting while he dealt with Dumbledore.

Finally, he turned around to confirm that, yes, Dumbledore had in fact walked into his lab without knocking, or better yet, telling him in advance.

“Is there something you wanted, Professor?” Severus ground out, glaring directly at Dumbledore, “because this trial was nearly complete when you walked in and caused an explosion with your vast levels of ambient magic. As I remember I agreed to have you keyed into my wards to help keep me from danger, not so you could put me in danger.”

“Why yes, there was something of great importance that I wanted to discuss with you. I am very sorry that I disturbed your brewing, though I am sure you were perfectly equipped to handle any damage I may have done,” Dumbledore said regretfully. “You see, I was quite unaware that you had moved on to an experiment that was quite so sensitive. Last I heard, you were experimenting on a potion that cared not at all about the magical environment.”

Severus growled inwardly at the implication that he was supposed to keep Dumbledore constantly up to date on his experiments. With all the free he now had thanks to not having spy duties, he was moving through trials faster than ever before and to keep Dumbledore updated would require seeing the man far more than Severus was willing to.

“Would you like to move this discussion to my office? After all, the only reason I came in here and interrupted your brewing was because you have a distressing lack of tea in your kitchen,” Dumbledore concluded.

“You should know by now that I rely upon the house elves for tea, and while you may have been unaware of the sensitive nature of my experiments, it seems as if you were merely too impatient to wait for me to see you.” Severus said with a hard look in his eyes.

Dumbledore hummed as he looked at the ceiling in a rather guilty fashion and popped a lemon drop into his mouth. “It appears you’ve caught me,” he said around the lemon drop, “I do still wish to move this to my office, though.”

“Fine. It’s not like I have anything urgent to do now that my experiment has been utterly ruined.” Severus looked at the disgusting mess in his cauldrons and resolved to assign Potter to clean them in his next detention. If only in the privacy of his mind, Severus had to admit that the brat could get a cauldron clean.

Dumbledore smiled happily and stepped to the side so Severus could lead the way to the fireplace. Severus grabbed a handful of floo powder and threw it into the gently crackling fire, making the flames grow and turn a vibrant shade of green.

“Headmaster’s office,” Severus called as stepped smoothly into the fire. Dumbledore grabbed a handful of the powder and followed suit.

Severus landed on his feet in Dumbledore’s office. He stepped to the side of the fireplace and meticulously removed any ash or dust that had the audacity to cling to his robes with a quick Scourgify.

He looked up from his inspection of his robes just in time to see Dumbledore land in front of the fireplace. Dumbledore immediately went to sit in his chair behind his desk, gesturing for Severus to take one of the guest chairs as he went. Severus glared distastefully at the discordantly patterned plush arm chair, and immediately transfigured it into a practical chair.

“I see some things never change” Dumbledore said, “I remember when you were a student and-“

Severus tuned out Dumbledore at this point, he longed to interrupt Dumbledore and put an end to his useless reminiscing with a snarky, “I may have more time now that I no longer have to spy, but I do still have things to do. Papers to grade. Potions to brew,” but really, he had to much respect for the man.

Eventually, Dumbledore reached the point and Severus tuned back in in time to hear, “As you know, Harry is destined to play a vital part in this war, however much I may wish it weren’t so. After the unfortunate events at the end of last year, I have a feeling that Harry has grown up enough to begin to take on a more active part in the war.” The twinkle in Dumbledore’s eye dimmed ever so slightly, but he continued “Yet I do not know for sure where his maturity level is, and I must be sure that he can handle it before I tell him about Voldemort’s horcruxes; it could be disastrous if he is not,” Dumbledore sighed and stroked Fawkes lovingly.

Severus had begun to feel an inkling of forboding rise within him, and he quickly Occluded so he could listen without doing something rash.

“Given the events of this summer that compromised your position as a spy, your loud and frequent complaints about the horrors of teaching, and my own suspicions concerning feelings of uselessness that you may or may not be having, I have found a way to solve all my problems. You will deage yourself to Harry’s age and become his friend!” Here the twinkle in Dumbledore’s eyes came back brighter than before. “You can get to know Harry and judge his maturity level. If you feel so inclined, you can also train him in dueling.” Dumbledore leaned back in his chair and steepled his fingers as he smiled in satisfaction.

“I’ve made all the arrangements with Minerva. Your name will be Alfonse Hopkirk. You- “

Severus had been sitting in stunned silence, though the casual observer would not have been able to discern any such emotion from his face.

At the sound of the ridiculous pseudonym Dumbledore seemed to expect him to adopt, he snapped out of it, abandoning any resolution to not be rash.

“Headmaster,” Severus snapped, “Are you joking? Because this has none of the usual hallmarks of your jokes. Those, at least, tend to have some element of humor.”

“Aha! So, you admit that my jokes are funny!”

“Headmaster, you know that’s not the point. Why did you really call me here?” Severus rather hoped his Occlumency was sufficient to keep the note of horror out of his voice.

“I’ve told you, my dear boy, I need you to go undercover as a student in Harry’s year and assess his character for me.”

“No.”

“Severus- “

“Absolutely not.”

“It’s this or accompany Remus on an envoy to the werewolves.”

There was another shocked silence as Severus assessed the possibility that Dumbledore would carry through with the threat. He came to the regrettable conclusion that he couldn’t say with any degree of certainty that the threat was only a threat. Severus narrowed his eyes and said, “That’s low even for you.”

“I can’t think of an easier way to get you to agree to do this for me. Except for bringing up Lily, but I think that’s a lower blow.” Dumbledore said with a happiness that only one who has just gotten their way can achieve.

Severus crossed his arms, and stared stonily at one of the many trinkets in Dumbledore’s office. A part of Severus knew he looked like a petulant child in that pose, but he decided that given the situation and what he was being asked to do, he was allowed to indulge himself.

And if anyone asked, he was simply getting into character.

After some time, Severus heaved a sigh, and muttered an agreement before rather hastily heading for the fireplace.

“Wait, Severus, we have details to discuss” Albus called after him.

Severus paused mere feet from freedom and turned around. “Since you clearly have this all planned out,” he began slowly, desperately trying to find the words that would allow him to escape as he continued to talk, “you can send me the details in a letter. In the meantime, I have some brewing to do, since I evidently must build up a stock for Poppy.”

Sighing deeply, Dumbledore said, “If you insist, though I really think you ought to play some part in developing the identity you will be wearing for some time.”

Severus gave Dumbledore a disdainful look and moved the last couple feet towards the fireplace and picked up a handful of floo powder. He turned back towards Dumbledore, floo powder still in hand, and said, “Really how long could it possibly take to confirm that Potter is an immature brat.”

Turning back around for a final time he tossed in the floo powder as he called out “Severus’s Quarters.”

Albus watched Severus disappear into the fireplace and smiled happily to himself. That could have gone much worse. He reached into his desk and pulled out quill and parchment to send Severus a letter containing the details of his undercover assignment. There really wasn’t much to tell, just his pseudonym and some relevant details that were in the file that Albus had fabricated. Severus was certainly skilled enough to fabricate the details of his ‘past’ on his own. With a flourish, Albus signed his name and banished the letter to appear on Severus’s desk.

Albus leaned back and put his legs on his desk, secure in the knowledge that Minerva was halfway across the castle teaching the third year Ravenclaw’s and Hufflepuff’s, and thus unable to scold him for his childish behavior.

As he reclined in his chair, he reflected on the crucial nature of Snape’s success. Despite what he’d like Severus to believe, getting an accurate assessment of Harry’s character was not the primary objective for Severus’s time undercover. To be completely honest, and Dumbledore could be in the sanctity of his own mind, it wasn’t even an objective at all. Harry has always been far too mature for his age, and he could have, and probably should have, told Harry about most of the things that he needed to know years ago.

The fact remained that Albus had told him nothing, however, and it was giving him an excellent façade for the real reason Severus was being sent undercover. And, Dumbledore supposed, at the end of the whole thing he could, and should, start divulging some of that information to Harry.

But beyond that, Albus had a growing conviction that the animosity Severus persisted in holding to Harry was unnecessarily hindering the war effort. Were they on better terms, the events that lead to the demise of Harry’s godfather may have been prevented. So, to end the animosity, Albus concluded that forcing Severus to get to know Harry was vital, and that having Severus go undercover as a new Gryffindor was the way to go about it. Albus congratulated himself on a plan well plotted with yet another lemon drop.

It was time. Severus was once again in Dumbledore’s office, glaring at the potion vial that he was soon to drink. This whole affair was utterly ridiculous, and Severus half expected to wake up any moment now. To be completely honest, he desperately hoped he would wake up.

In less than an hour, Minerva would be introducing him to the denizens of Gryffindor Tower as their newest housemate, Alfonse Hopkirk. Thankfully, Dumbledore left much of the details of his past up to him, Severus shuddered to think what Dumbledore would have come up with on his own.

Really, the name was bad enough as it was.

“You know glaring at that potion won’t make this situation disappear.” Dumbledore said with a smile and a twinkle in his eye.

Severus shifted his glare from the potion vial to Dumbledore’s face, and said “No, but it is the conduit of your asinine plan.”

“Really, Severus,” Dumbledore said, “It’s not that odious of a task, nor should it take you too long. You should be taking the antidote, and returning to your usual form, well before winter break.”

“Winter Break? As in three months from now? You can’t possibly believe it will take me that long to befriend the Potter boy and assess his character?” Severus said incredulously.

“Now, now Severus, it’s unlikely that you’ll get any deeper understanding of Harry’s character in less time than that.”

Severus hated to admit it, but he rather suspected that Dumbledore was right about that. He had, however unwillingly, observed that Potter did tend to keep to himself, with the obvious exceptions of the youngest Weasley boy and Granger.

Dumbledore gestured to the potion vial that Severus still, somewhat unwittingly, clutched with a tighter grip than absolutely necessary, “Why don’t you go ahead and drink that so Minerva can introduce you to the Gryffindor’s, and you can get back to your last night in your quarters?”

Severus grimaced at this reminder that he would not have access to his quarters but did as Dumbledore suggested.

He knew damn well that what Dumbledore wanted, Dumbledore got. Especially at this late stage of the operation. And he really did want to get back to his quarters. He ran over the list of reasons he couldn’t visit his quarters during the operation in his head to prevent arguing with Dumbledore- he would look petulant if he tried it, and he definitely did not want that.

At first nothing appeared to happen, and Dumbledore opened his mouth, perhaps to speculate about what had gone wrong, when there was a bright white flash.

After all the spots were gone from everyone’s vision, Severus was gone, and in his place stood Alfonse Hopkirk.

“Well, the books certainly didn’t warn me of that,” Dumbledore said brightly as he conjured a mirror for Severus.

Severus took a steadying breath before examining himself. Alfonse was shorter than Severus had been, but then, Severus had been extraordinarily tall, so Alfonse was still quite tall. Where long, dark, greasy hair had hung about a long face and even longer nose, there was now spiky blonde hair that was refusing to stay flat even as Severus pushed it down. His nose was no longer the crooked monstrosity that others had described it as in their taunts, but was short and rather stubby. Light brown eyes sat underneath thick, untamed eyebrows that arched elegantly and clashed peculiarly with his stubby nose and completely ordinary mouth.

“I look ridiculous,” Severus said.

“You look fine, dear boy, and in any case, it’ll only be a couple weeks, just avoid mirrors for that long! You won’t even start anymore vampire rumors since you won’t be you!” Dumbledore replied brightly.

Severus held very still to suppress any reaction to the terrible joke, and in doing so noticed how different his body felt. To distract himself from the uncomfortable feeling, he drifted off to think about the potion that brought him into this position.

A side effect of the antiquated potion to cure warts that Dumbledore had found in an obscure book by an obscure author was that it would allow the drinker to take on a different appearance for any period time of time, until the antidote was consumed, but the appearance seemed to be completely up to the whims of magic Herself. The age and gender could be determined by subtle adjustments to the recipes, but even at the peak of the potion’s use, nobody had found any way to change the appearance- though none of the appearances ever had any warts for obvious reasons.

Then the potion began to be used almost exclusively by the seedier elements of the world at around the same time a side-effect free version was developed, and its use was outlawed. The potion was subsequently forgotten by most. So, Dumbledore dug up the recipe, and Severus brewed it.

Thinking of it now, Severus had to wonder if this hare-brained plan hadn’t been conceived of as a result of Dumbledore finding the recipe. After all, it would have been incredibly difficult to find if he had simply been looking for it, rather than if he had stumbled across it accidentally. Then again, maybe he was just that old.

Bringing his mind back to the present now that he felt more settled, Severus noticed that his trademark robes hung loosely off his shoulders, making him look younger than he was supposed to. He held his arm out in front of him and inspected the increased amount of fabric hanging down and covering his hand.

If he had had less experience with hiding his emotions, he’d probably have sworn angrily or at least sighed resignedly at the sight of his robes. However, Severus did have extensive experience with hiding his emotions, and however much he may have wanted to give in to those urges, the only indicator of the anger and resignation he felt was an additional glint to his now light brown eyes. He again waved his wand and resized his robes to the proper size.

Dumbledore clucked disapprovingly and waved his own wand. Severus’s robes were now the Hogwarts uniform, complete with Gryffindor crest and tie. A brief shadow flitted across Severus’s face, too fast for the casual observer to notice, indicating his anger at the change forced upon him.

“Well that certainly worked. You look almost nothing like yourself, Alfonse.” Dumbledore said.

Severus began, a little incredulously “Of course it worked! I made it after all,” he continued now a little annoyed, “and why are you calling me Alfonse? I may have to go by that ridiculous pseudonym for your little charade, but my name is still Severus.”

“For you to be most successful at adopting your new identity, a complete immersion is necessary. That includes being called Alfonse by everyone, including myself, until your mission is over.” Dumbledore explained.

“I suppose I have no choice in this.” Alfonse said bitterly.

“It really is for the best.” Dumbledore said, the twinkle in his eye undiminished.

“And, I suppose I must now alter all my clothing for this hare-brained scheme of yours, then, Professor?” Severus said more for the sake of complaining than out of any real annoyance.

“Of course not, my dear boy! I’ve purchased all the supplies you will need to succeed for the duration of your mission.” Dumbledore smiled benignly, and continued “Now why don’t you and Minerva head over to Gryffindor Tower and get introductions out of the way before you lock yourself in your quarters for the night.”

“Right. Come along Sev-Mr. Hopkirk.” Minerva said briskly, turning to walk out of Albus’s office.

Alfonse paused, staring blankly at the wall for a moment, before turning to follow Minerva. Or rather Professor McGonagall he mentally corrected himself, because he knew, even if he didn’t want to admit it, that Dumbledore was right about immersion.

Minerva strode with purpose down the corridor leading to the Gryffindor Common room, her colleague turned student trailing behind her. They had started out in line with each other, but after several unfortunate incidences of Severus- Alfonse- Mr. Hopkirk- whatever- tripping over legs that were the wrong length, Mr. Hopkirk began walking behind her.

When Minerva tried to pause long enough for him to catch up to her, he slowed down enough to allow her to take the lead again. Minerva supposed that he was simply embarrassed to be suddenly incapable of something as simple as walking without tripping, and allowed the distance to remain.

Before too long, they arrived at the portrait of the Fat Lady. The Fat Lady had been disappointedly inspecting the completely, and stubbornly, intact wineglass that she had been attempting to shatter with her voice, but when she caught sight of Minerva leading an unknown student down her hallway, she immediately perked up.

The Fat Lady opened her mouth, but before she could get any words out, Minerva cut her off with the password “Salve”.

She simply did not have the time or patience to explain the situation to the portrait that could simply get the gossip from one of the students trying to curry favor after getting in after curfew.

As Minerva entered through the portrait hole, she brushed off any guilt that she may have felt at being so brusque with the portrait. She was, after all, in quite a hurry, and in no mood to stand around gossiping.

Mr. Hopkirk was still trailing behind her as they crossed the common room, comfortingly decorated in reds and golds and packed with students all dressed in the same, to stand in front of the merrily dancing fire.

The volume level in the common room had been nearly deafening when Minerva had first entered the room, but by the time she turned to face the common room, Mr. Hopkirk off to her side, it was nearly silent.

She had a quick recollection of the first time she came into the common room as Head of House. Almost nobody had stopped talking, and the noise level had seemed to crescendo. It had taken years before her reputation was substantial enough to produce the effect that she now enjoyed.

Minerva raised her hand, silencing the remainder of the students who had been talking, and began to speak.

“I have a quick announcement that is no less important for its brevity. There is a new student,” here she gestured to the man turned boy standing to her side and continued, “named Alfonse Hopkirk. He transferred here from the United States and will be joining our sixth years in their dormitory tomorrow. Any other questions should be directed at Alfonse himself tomorrow. For tonight, your curiosity will have to keep.” Minerva concluded.

The common room erupted into noise, and Minerva grimly ushered Alfonse out of the room. Really, she should have known better than to bring him all the way into the room for the announcement.

She wasn’t sure she agreed with Albus’s decision to announce Alfonse the night before he joined the general population. He said it would allow the students to get used to the idea without harassing Alfonse, but it would probably make things worse the next morning.

They hurried through the portrait hole. About halfway down the corridor, Minerva turned into an empty classroom, gesturing behind her for Sev-Mr. Hopkirk to follow.

As soon as he closed the door behind him, Minerva set a variety of privacy wards, not trusting her lions in the slightest despite the departure of the twins Weasley. She thanked anyone who might be listening for that small blessing, as she always did when she remembered that the twins were now gone for good.

“Alright Mr. Hopkirk, that went decently well. My lions will be inclined to be friendly, at least until the mystery surrounding you is resolved. Their continued friendliness is dependent on your response to them.” Minerva said sternly and not very hopeful that he would even attempt to be friendly back.

She looked him up and down. The transfiguration Dumbledore applied to Alfonse’s robes was wearing off, and they were beginning to look like Severus’s trademark black robes again.

Mr. Hopkirk saw Minerva inspecting him, and looked down to examine himself. He obviously saw the state of his robes, smoothed them down as if trying to remove lint that was not there, and said “I suppose that this is my cue to head back to my quarters and inspect the supplies Albus has provided.” He looked longingly over his shoulder at the door.

It was quite clear to Minerva that the poor boy just wanted to be alone, and gestured for him to precede her in exiting the empty classroom. As Mr. Hopkirk went right towards the dungeons, and Minerva went left towards her quarters, she mused that this would be quite the semester, and it was only the first Friday of classes.

When Alfonse arrived at his quarters, they were exactly as he left them that morning, and he was profoundly grateful that Dumbledore hadn’t meddled with his things. He amended this to being grateful that his possessions were untouched, when he saw the boxes in his kitchen.

He removed his, by now, entirely reverted robes and hung them by the door, as he always did. Then he made his way into the kitchen to sort through the ridiculous amount of purchases Dumbledore had made on his behalf.

The first thing Alfonse noticed was that many of the boxes were from Gladrags, and that almost made him abandon the task. Clothes of that quality- and that quantity, he added mentally after a quick count of the boxes, were unnecessary when he was only going to be wearing them when not in uniform for a couple months at the longest.

He sighed, and reminded himself that Dumbledore has shopaholic tendencies, no impulse control, and deep pockets; a disastrous combination in any situation, let alone one warranting an entirely new wardrobe. Next to the Gladrags boxes was a school trunk, and Alfonse opened it. Thankfully it was empty, so he began unpacking the clothing from both Gladrags and from the Madam Malkin’s boxes that were revealed as he progressed in his packing.

There was also miscellaneous school supplies and books that he packed away as well. At this point, he just wanted the odious task over and done with.

Eventually, he shoved the last handkerchief into the trunk, closing the lid more firmly than he really needed to, and banished the trunk to his storage closet.

The house elves could find it there when they needed to transport it to Gryffindor Tower.

That done, he made a beeline straight for his liquor cabinet, only to discover all his alcohol gone. ‘So much for untouched possessions’ thought Alfonse as he grabbed the note pinned to the back of the cabinet. It was the usual nonsense from Dumbledore. Something about this body being too young to handle alcohol. Alfonse crumbled up the note and threw it into the fire in disgust.

He went back to his kitchen and made himself a mug of very strong tea.

Tea in hand, he went back to his living room and settled himself into his favorite armchair in front of the fireplace. He rarely had a chance to just relax like this, and although he would have enjoyed himself more with some of his favorite scotch, he had to admit that the tea was nice and soothing.

Alfonse directed his thoughts away from the more volatile subjects. This would be the last time for a long time that he’d be able to just relax in his favorite armchair, and he didn’t want to waste it on anger that he could still brood on tomorrow.

This in mind, he put his feet on the ottoman, and lost himself in more pleasant memories. A certain fiery tempered and headed witch featured predominantly in these memories. After quite some time, Alfonse finished his tea, and headed to his own bed.

He determinedly refused to speculate when the next time he’d see it would be.

When Severus woke the next morning, something felt wrong. He laid in bed for a few minutes trying to locate the source of the wrongness, when it suddenly hit him. His body wasn’t aching.

His body wasn’t aching because it wasn’t his body. This body was 16 years old and had never been damaged as his usual one had. If he hadn’t known about the latent poisonous qualities making the side-effects dangerous to take advantage of for more than six months, he would have had a hard time believing it had disappeared into obscurity the way it did.

He forced himself to remember that he was Alfonse in every way that mattered now.

For several more minutes Alfonse lay in his bed, delaying the moment he’d have to get dressed and head to the Great Hall for breakfast and his first encounter with the Golden Boy.

He grimaced and finally got out of bed. He showered quickly, and as he was about to head to his closet to get dressed, he remembered that, in his ire, he’d forgotten to set out a uniform for today. He grumbled and summoned one from his trunk.

Alfonse quickly pulled the uniform on. He avoided looking in the mirror until he remembered Dumbledore’s comment about this very same behavior the day before. He paused in his routine and made a point to examine his unfamiliar appearance.

While it did feel good to spite Dumbledore without him knowing it, Alfonse realized that it was probably best for him to be more than passably familiar with his appearance. There was also the factor of his soon-to-be roommates to consider. Teenage boys didn’t tend to handle odd behavior in others very well, and they could very well take it upon themselves to mock him for avoiding mirrors.

It was best to avoid that all too familiar possibility.

As he collected himself to leave his quarters with his usual purposeful haste, he realized he wouldn’t be coming back. It would be months before he’d be able to relax in the quiet solitude of his personal quarters.

For the next few months, he’d be living with five teenaged boys, a group not known for their consideration or orderly living habits, and Alfonse suddenly felt that he had let his private, peaceful quarters go unappreciated. It was terribly sentimental, but with this in mind, he stood there in the foyer of his quarters and bid them farewell.

As soon as he was outside his quarters, Alfonse cast a disillusionment charm over himself. With the Gryffindor robes he now sported, it wouldn’t do for one of his Slytherin’s to spot him leaving the dungeons.

Some of them were smart enough to draw the right connections between the disappearance of their head of house and the appearance of a new student. Hopefully, without the suspicion that would be aroused by seeing him leave the dungeons, none of them would even get on the trail. Alfonse had no desire to deal with the complications that would arise if one of them figured it out.

Though of course, as Alfonse Hopkirk, it would hardly be his responsibility to deal with it. Ah well, Dumbledore would not be pleased if he were so blatantly careless and the enjoyment he would derive from causing Dumbledore unnecessary work would be lessened significantly by the lecture he would likely receive as a result.

When Alfonse reached the ground floor bathrooms, he detoured into one of them. It was thankfully empty, so he cancelled the charm. As he was walking out of the bathroom, he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror, and it was just as startling as it had been that morning. He paused and examined himself again hoping the novelty of the experience would wear off faster if he continued to do so.

On his way to the Great Hall from the bathroom, he came across the DADA instructor in deep conversation with someone Alfonse hadn’t seen before. Professor Kirke was a rather unremarkable Auror, though Severus had to admit that she was tolerably proficient in instructing and had been sent to teach DADA by Amelia Bones on Dumbledore’s request.

He took a moment to hope that the unfamiliar woman had been sent been sent by Bones since the other options Dumbledore would likely come up with to replace him were hardly appealing.

Thankfully, Kirke’s present familiarity with the stranger led Severus to believe that she had been sent by Bones to teach Potions in his place. He could only hope that she was as competent as Kirke, or his return to teaching would be a nightmare.

Finally, Alfonse arrived at the massive doors to the Great Hall and walked in. He nearly instinctively turned to the left which would take him to both his usual seat at the head table, though he rarely approached from this side anymore, and to the Slytherin table.

He stopped himself in time, however and turned right towards the Gryffindor table. To his disgust, Potter was already seated there with the female Weasley.

He reluctantly made a beeline for their part of the table. The sooner he befriended the brat and informed Dumbledore of his foolishness and childishness, the sooner he could have his life back, after all. He drew level with the empty section of bench across from where Potter and Weasley were seated, noticing that Weasley was reprimanding Potter, and took a deep breath.

“Can I sit here? My name is Alfonse, by the way.” He said, proud of himself for being so civil.

Potter looked the way he always did in Potions class; that is to say, he looked stupid and bewildered. After an embarrassingly long pause, in Alfonse’s opinion, Potter finally responded with a tactless sure and a gesture at the empty seat.

After another moment of awkward silence in which Alfonse internally bemoaned the circumstances that led to him to this supremely unfortunate situation, Weasley said: “I guess we should introduce ourselves, I’m Ginny Weasley, and you probably already guessed that that’s Harry Potter.”

Alfonse nodded, having already filled his plate and his mouth with Hogwarts’s trademark delicious food. He swallowed his food and was trying to decide how to reply when Potter opened his mouth.

“So where are you from?” Potter asked.

“I’m from the South.” Alfonse responded, “Of America,” he added, trying to disguise the bitterness in his voice, angry that he was reinforcing Potter’s belief that, as the chosen one, he had the right know whatever he wanted about everyone he encountered. He continued eating and no one seemed inclined to do any talking. Despite a small voice in his head urging him to be friendlier to get this over with, he allowed the quiet to continue.

After a few more minutes of awkward silence, Potter finished eating, the female Weasley noticed and looked oddly upset about it. She opened her mouth to say something, but before she could, Potter stood up abruptly, cutting off whatever she was going to say.

“It was nice meeting you Alfonse, I’ll see you around. See you later Ginny.” Potter said in a rush, turning to leave as soon as he finished speaking.

Alfonse turned to Weasley to see if this was normal behavior, and instead of the anger, annoyance, or star-struck awe he expected to see in her eyes, he saw a resigned sadness. This seemed a little bizarre to Alfonse, but honestly? He didn’t care.

If it turned out to have something to do with befriending Potter, maybe he’d investigate it, but for now he didn’t have to pretend to care.

As Harry rushed away from the Great Hall, Ginny watched him from her seat at Gryffindor table. He’d hardly eaten anything, and she suspected that it was Alfonse’s fault.

He may not have been overtly rude or mean to Harry, but Harry was awfully fragile lately- though she’d never say that directly to him, and especially in the aftermath of the past year and being called a liar and insane by most of the wizarding world, having someone be so standoffish to his face would most likely at least put him off his food.

Especially since he always had trouble eating after the summer.

She pushed this train of thought away, any time she had tried to pursue it in the past had simply led to trouble of some kind. Either in the form of driving her into a deep well of waiting, always lurking, depression, or white-hot anger, the kind of anger that drove a person to get herself to Little Whinging and commit murder.

Neither of these were productive, and turning that energy, that emotion, evoked by those thoughts was equally unproductive. Harry clammed up faster than Gringott’s when asked about his childhood or summers and there was no other source of information.

And, as Ginny knew all too well, the sources of authority here at Hogwarts were nigh useless- Diary, Basilisk, Pettigrew, Tournament, Umbridge- ran through her head, as if she needed a reminder.

She shook these thoughts away and turned to Alfonse “Did you have to be such a dick? What did Harry ever do to you?” Confrontation was always easier than introspection.

Alfonse snorted, and gestured vaguely with his fork as he said, “I have no idea what you’re talking about, I was perfectly polite.”

Ginny’s ears turned a shade of pink that clashed spectacularly with her hair and said, “If you call that polite, I’d hate to see what you consider rude.”

She looked back at the now closed doors of the Great Hall and continued to Alfonse as she stood up from her seat, “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a friend to check on.”

She heard Alfonse snort rudely from behind her as she strode out of the Great Hall. If Alfonse didn’t shape up soon, he was not going to like the consequences.

Harry deserved better and Ginny was going to do her best to make that ‘better’ a reality.

Harry fled the Great Hall, doing his best to not actually appear to be fleeing. He felt horrible for being so rude to Ginny, but he could tell she was about to try to get him to eat more, and he just had to get out of there before she could.

He wished his friends wouldn’t try to force him to eat; he never could eat much at the beginning of the school year- yet another legacy of the Dursley’s mistreatment of him, and no amount of nagging was going to miraculously stretch his stomach.

He knew that there were probably potions or spells that could help alleviate the situation either by stretching his stomach or by simply calming, but frankly Harry had no trust in the people he’d have to seek help from.

He knew that as soon as he went to Madam Pomphrey, it wouldn’t be long before the whole school, and consequently the whole wizarding world, knew about his troubles. It could easily end up being the thing that caused everybody to hate him again; he couldn’t take that so soon after they stopped.

And he knew very well that Dumbledore knew of his home life. “I knew I was condemning you to ten dark and difficult years,” Dumbledore had said to him at the end of last year.

A small part of him that was ever hopeful persisted in wondering if Dumbledore truly knew the extent of what went on in that house. But then the more jaded and realistic part of him pointed out that his letter had been addressed to the cupboard under the stairs, that Mrs. Figg had been sent to watch him and must have seen something, that Dumbledore had had to threaten Petunia into keeping him; and he’s forced to admit that Dumbledore certainly knew enough.

Really thinking of the whole situation is futile since no matter what he was still forced back to the Dursley’s and there was no hope that anything would change. And at this point It’s not like there would be any use; he only had one last summer to get through before he was free.

Then there was the new issue of Alfonse. That was another person who could discover his secret. It had been hard enough avoiding four other people when he changed and showered over the past several years, but five? That would be nearly impossible.

He’d have to figure it out though, because there was no way that a stranger would be willing to keep such a big secret. Harry suspected that, besides Ron and possibly Neville, the rest of his dorm mates would sell out to the Daily Prophet if they knew that his relatives abu- no, he couldn’t even think the word.

Then again, his nightmares were now ending his night’s sleep far earlier than anyone else would ever wake up, so if he got up quickly and finished dressing and showering before anyone else got up, it’d be fine.

Really, he only had to be cautious for the period of time while he was showering and changing since his clothes easily hid all the marks Vernon left on his body.

Heaven forbid the neighbors see something out of the ordinary and do something drastic like call the police.

Pulling himself out of his reverie, Harry realized he had made it all the way back to Gryffindor Tower. He gave the password to the Fat Lady, and went to grab his books.

As he collected the books that he needed, he was reminded yet again of how much he had to do, how much he had to catch up on. Voldemort had decades of experience on him, not to mention his raw magical power. Harry knew it was pointless to think that studying his schoolwork would improve his chances against him, but it was all he could do for now.

He felt decent about how much he’d gotten done over the summer. He’d been able to send requests for books with the letters he had carefully sent every three days. And thanks to Mr. Weasley and Moody speaking to Vernon at the train station, he had even been able to keep all his schoolbooks with him in his room.

It’d been hard trying to learn everything on his own. He’d achieved mastery of all his old material, finally, but trying to teach himself new defense techniques had been difficult without any guidance. For some reason, Dumbledore wasn’t helping him train, or having anyone else do it for him. Although, as Harry sometimes thought before he could stop himself, perhaps Dumbledore wasn’t training him because he’d realized how utterly useless Harry was.

Harry shook his head to rid himself of these thoughts. Even if they were true, there was nothing he could do about them, and he had other things to do with his time. At this, he picked up his book bag and headed out of the dorm for the library.

Ginny had realized as soon as she left the Great Hall that she had no idea where Harry had gone. She aimlessly wandered the halls for a bit considering her options, she could keep wandering until she found him, she could give up on searching and wait for him somewhere she was reasonably certain he would turn up eventually, or she could put off speaking with him until she just happened to run into him.

That last choice was not one she was really going to consider.

Her aimless path eventually led her past the hall that the library was down. In the past, she wouldn’t have even bothered checking in there, but Harry had changed over the summer. In fact, he had changed so much so, that she was nearly certain she would find him there.

As she walked towards the library, Ginny mused over the conversation between her mum and Professor Lupin that she had overheard this past summer.

Her mum had been worried about Harry; he kept asking for more books, and not just any books- specifically textbooks. Her mum didn’t think it was healthy that Harry had changed so much, to go from rarely studying at all to seemingly studying constantly, but Professor Lupin had told her not to worry about it, that it was probably his way of coping with the loss of Sirius.

And maybe Remus was right, but a part of Ginny worried that her mum was right too, that this method of coping wasn’t exactly healthy, or was maybe symptomatic of a larger issue.

As Ginny passed a cluster of bookshelves, she finally spotted Harry in a tucked away alcove. Even with the conversation she had overheard last summer, it was still a little bizarre to see Harry studying peacefully, by himself, in the library.

Seeing him alone like this, she couldn’t help but think that Ron and Hermione’s continual abandonment of him had something to do with the dramatic change.

Ginny greeted Harry as she sat down across from him. He jumped a little and halfheartedly returned her greeting.

“How are you doing Harry? You looked a little upset when you left.”

“I’m fine. I just had some studying to do,” Harry said, with absolutely no inflection.

Ginny smiled wryly, “I hope you don’t expect me to believe that. I hope one day you’ll see you don’t need to lie to me like that. I won’t pressure you to talk to me- much,” she chuckled a little uncomfortably, “but, I really do think that talking to someone would help.”

Harry stared off into the distance for a little while. Ginny began to think that he’d never respond, and was trying to decide what she should say next, maybe she ought to suggest journaling? It was a coping method that she instinctively shied away from, but maybe it would help him since it didn’t involve trusting a person with his struggles. But then, he started speaking.

“It’s just, I’m so behind,” Harry started, with a sharp gesture of frustration.

“Voldemort is just so much better than me at everything. I know I’m going to have to fight him again, and I want to be prepared, but it’s impossible. He has decades and decades of experience that I can’t possibly hope to match. But I can’t just give up, I don’t want to die, so I have to do something.” Harry sighed and turned back to his books, “So, I’m going to study my hardest, and hope I’ve done enough by our next confrontation.”

Ginny had the feeling that there was more to his mood than just worry over being hunted by Riddle. Harry had, after all, been hunted by Riddle for most of his life and throughout all of his time in the Wizarding World.

She stared at him absently trying to decide how she wanted to respond to this, if she wanted to offer to help him study or call him on sharing what was really bothering him.

After a few minutes of being subjected to Ginny’s stare, Harry gave up on trying to study for the moment and looked up. “Was there something else you wanted?” Harry asked.

“Yeah, there was,” Ginny said, suddenly remembering something that she’d been meaning to ask Harry, “I wanted to ask you why you haven’t started up the D.A. again yet.”

Harry looked bewildered, and Ginny hoped this was because he had plans that he had assumed she already knew for some reason.

“I haven’t started it up because I hadn’t planned on ever starting it up.” Harry said, immediately crushing Ginny’s hopes. He continued, “We have a competent defense professor, and I wouldn’t want to overstep and offend her. Not to mention that I really never should have been running the D.A. in the first place; it was dangerous and someone could have gotten seriously hu- “

Ginny just had to cut him off before he could get any further, “Nobody’s gotten hurt because of you! Riddle and his cronies are the ones that have been hurting people!”

Harry smiled grimly, as if he’d been expecting this counter. “Would Hermione, or Ron, or you, or Neville, or,” here Harry paused as if to brace himself, “or Cedric have gotten hurt if I hadn’t been there? I can answer that one for you, no. They would’ve been and you would’ve been safely at Hogwarts if weren’t for me.”

While a part of her had expected him to come up with something ridiculous like that, actually being confronted with it was still a bit shocking. She didn’t even know where to begin explaining how very wrong Harry was.

“I- you- it wasn’t your fault!” Ginny exclaimed, smiling contritely at Madam Pince when she glared venomously at her.

At a more moderate tone, Ginny continued, “You were set up! You didn’t know about the cup being a portkey, and you didn’t know about the Ministry! You did the best you could with what you had, and it’s because of your D.A. lessons that we didn’t get hurt worse!” Ginny finished as passionately as she could without drawing the wrath of Madam Pince.

“You know we only started the D.A. because Umbridge was utterly useless at best, and now that we have a proper professor it’s not needed anymore,” Harry responded. “And if we did start up the D.A. like we did last year, Kirke might be insulted or offended. It might seem like we’re lumping her in with Umbridge, and that her lessons aren’t good enough,” Harry said.

He continued, “But you’re right, extra lessons could save lives. We can ask Professor Kirke to run them, and, so we don’t burden her unnecessarily, ask some other professors to help.”

“Why ‘burden’ the professors at all? If you’re so concerned about bothering them, why don’t you just teach us yourself? Kirke would probably be proud that we’re studying her specialty on our own initiative” Ginny replied, getting just a little frustrated at Harry’s self-contradictory reasoning and inability to see that she was right.

Harry’s eyes slid away from Ginny’s and fixed on a point in the distance, looking haunted. “Those D.A. meetings were a mistake. They were handled improperly and were downright dangerous. Any one of you could have been seriously injured. It was stupid and arrogant of me to think that I could lead those lessons.”

Ginny stared at him, unable to believe that he couldn’t see how valuable those lessons had been. That he couldn’t see clearly about, well, anything related to the whole situation. As she continued to stare at Harry, a realization began to dawn on her.

Harry didn’t want to continue to lead the D.A. because if he did, it would mean that he was the best person for the job; that he’s smart and talented. More than that though, it’d mean that he’d have people willing to support and follow him on his misadventures, and that kind of support must be foreign to him; Ginny didn’t know much about what went on at the Dursley’s, but she did know that they’re far from loving and supportive.

Further complicating the already messy and convoluted situation was that Harry did have some valid concerns. Their group was completely unsupervised which is perhaps not the ideal situation for teenagers to be learning how to defend themselves.

Still though, there were ways around this, and his staunch refusal to brainstorm them himself made it clear to Ginny that the concerns he listed weren’t the only causing his refusal.

They continued to sit there in silence, each mulling over their own thoughts, when Neville walked by. Perfect! Ginny thought Neville can help me convince Harry that this is the right thing to do, and lunged forward out of her seat to grab Neville’s arm.

Neville jumped as her hand closed around his arm, and made the highest pitched sound that Ginny had ever heard from a post-pubescent man. She quickly released his arm, and leaned back into her seat.

“Shh! You don’t want Madam Pince to kick us out,” Ginny whispered forcefully, “and sit down, you need to help me convince Harry to start the D.A. again.” Ginny saw Neville look longingly at his books and was about to monologue about all the things she’d already said to Harry, when Neville set his book bag under the table, sat down, and turned to Harry.

“I think you guys need to catch me up, because I had assumed that the D.A. was just going to continue. What do you mean by ‘convince Harry to start the D.A. again’?” Neville asked, cocking his head to the side.

“Harry here,” Ginny gestured broadly at Harry, “seems to believe that asking him to lead the D.A. again is dangerous and stupid and would offend Kirke, but asking Professor Kirke to lead the D.A. would burden her unnecessarily, but extra D.A.D.A training would be useful and valuable.” Ginny turned to look Harry dead in the eye, “Did I sum up your arguments well?”

Harry gestured helplessly, “I did say we could ask other professors to lead sessions so Professor Kirke isn’t overburdened.”

Neville still looked confused, his head tilted to the side and a slight crinkle in his eyebrows. He said, “Wait so the problem is that Harry teaching alone would be dangerous, but asking Professor Kirke to do it all would be unfair to her, right? So why don’t we have Harry teach the lessons and ask a professor to oversee them? Then the professor’s only time commitment is sitting in on the lessons, and there’s a fully trained wizard on hand in case something goes wrong. Oh, and if other professors are on board, there’s very little chance Kirke will be upset.”

Ginny felt her jaw drop involuntarily, and immediately closed her mouth. She slapped herself lightly on the forehead, “That’s perfect! I wish I’d thought of it and saved myself the effort of arguing with this,” she waved vaguely at Harry, “particularly stubborn brick wall. So, Harry, do you agree to start the D.A. under those conditions?”

Harry looked uncertain, but said, “I guess so.”

“Great! We can go talk to McGonagall after dinner and run it past her. She knows us, so I think she’d be willing to supervise and if not, she’d know who to ask, since you seem so against bugging Kirke.”

Ginny wanted to give Harry no chance to back out of the meeting.

Neville stood, grabbing his book bag, and said “I’m glad that’s all settled, now if you don’t mind, I have studying to do.”

Ginny watched him walk off toward the charms section of the library, and sighed. She really ought to study for that nasty Potions exam that she had coming up soon. “I guess we’ll see you at McGonagall’s office if we don’t see you at dinner, I have to go to the dorm and grab my notes to study,” Ginny said as she stood up and waved goodbye to Harry.

That went surprisingly well, Ginny thought as she walked towards her dorm, but Harry really doesn’t seem okay. He’s so much darker than he’s been before. Sirius’s death really seems to have messed him up, but I don’t know what to do to help him. The whole situation is way out of my depth. Between the events of the end of her third and fourth years and what little she knew of his relationship with his relatives…

At this point, Ginny was halfway to Gryffindor Tower, but had to stop and put her hand on the wall. Even thinking about all the problems and ordeals Harry has was overwhelming her, how in Merlin’s saggy pants was Harry handling actually facing that trauma? It was unbelievable and was proof of the incredible strength of character that Harry had.

But, she thought reluctantly, how long could that strength possibly last? Everybody has a breaking point, and what if Harry was nearing his?

Unfortunately, Harry was the type of person who would hide his pain until long after he collapsed from the weight of it.

Ginny straightened up, and as she resumed her walk to Gryffindor Tower, she decided that the best thing she could do for Harry was just to be there for him and hope that he would let her catch him if he fell.

Harry watched Ginny walk away, and all the fears and panic that had been lurking in the shadows of his mind since the topic of restarting the DA had come up made themselves palpable and evident.

Starting the DA again felt like a terrible idea. He felt certain that if they did start the group again, someone would inevitably end up getting hurt, and it would be all his fault. He didn’t know how he’d live with himself if-when- that happened.

Harry hunched over the table, clutched his hair in his hands, and struggled to control his breathing.

This whole situation felt like something out of one his nightmares; his friends were trusting him to teach them how to defend themselves. Not only were they trusting him to teach them, they were deliberately seeking him out as the teacher. The thought that anyone would trust him when there were clearly other options to learn from, to teach something so vital, so essential, that may one day save their lives was truly terrifying.

And yet, he loved it.

Some of his only good memories of the past year were of teaching the D.A.

Helping Neville perfect the shielding charm.

Guiding Luna through casting her first patronus.

Seeing Colin successfully disarm his partner for the first time.

Feeling the blast as Susan’s blasting curse utterly obliterated a target.

Learning how to cast Ginny’s famous Bat Bogey Hex.

But these memories were now all tainted by the realization that he had been careless. The number of times someone could have gotten needlessly injured- by a stray or miscast curse, by over-doing it and getting exhausted, by being caught by Umbridge. The list went on, and each possibility made Harry grip his hair tighter.

As Harry’s panic reached a fever pitch, a thought occurred to him that made him loosen his grip on his hair, and slow the jiggling of his leg that he’d only just noticed: he only had to get through one lesson without hurting someone.

There was obviously no way that anyone in their right mind would let him keep leading the lessons, and the professors were all rational people.

So, after he taught the first lesson, whoever supervised it would express their concern that the whole situation was unsafe and ill thought out. Then, if the professor wanted his help, he could assist with setting up the teacher lead DA.

He’d do his absolute best work when he wrote the one lesson he’d give; it was the last he’d ever write, after all. And, with the war building as it was, every second of preparation counted. They couldn’t afford for Harry to deliberately throw a lesson.

Not that he needed to throw a lesson to get the DA cancelled, but his best was just never going to have the same experience and heft that a professor would have.

And there was always the chance that he was getting worked up over nothing at all- McGonagall hadn’t approved their plan yet, and there was every chance that she wouldn’t.

With all of this in mind, Harry finally straightened up from his hunched over position and returned to his work.

Harry, Ginny, and Neville were sitting in the Great Hall; Harry was pushing the food around on his plate in an unconscious attempt to make it appear as though he had eaten more than he really had; years of dodging Hermione’s mothering had given him lots of practice.

Thinking about Hermione and her mothering reminded him of all the things that he didn’t want to think about: her and Ron abandoning him, his summer and cause for most of Hermione’s mothering, and his end of year misadventures.

Harry sighed, that wasn’t completely fair of him. Ron and Hermione had stood by him for years, and he was reasonably certain that if he went to them and told them he was struggling that they would be there to support him. It was just that he was terrible at asking for help.

Every time he tried, he choked on the words and couldn’t manage to do it.

He drew himself out of this reverie and checked on Ginny and Neville’s progress through dinner. They were nearly done, so Harry gratefully put down his fork and said, “Have you guys thought about what we’re going to say to McGonagall?”

Ginny swallowed the bite she’d been chewing. “I haven’t thought it through word for word- but I do have a general idea of what I want to say. I figured you wouldn’t be down for talking too much since you’re so reluctant about the whole thing, so I figured I’d just say that we want to restart the Defense tutoring club from last year. This time with a professor’s supervision, but still led by you.”

She loaded up a fork with the remains of her dinner, “If there was something either of you wanted to say to her, then go for it,” she concluded and deposited her fork full of food in her mouth.

Neville shrugged, “That just about covers it for me.”

Harry nodded, and turned to check on Professor McGonagall’s progress through dinner. As he tried to get a good look at her plate, she pushed it away and stood up.

Harry nudged Ginny and said, “You guys almost ready to go? It looks like McGonagall’s done eating.”

Ginny and Neville finished the bite they were on, put their utensils down, and they all stood up from their seats.

Since they left so soon after McGonagall did, they took their time getting to her office so that if they beat her there, they wouldn’t have to wait for too long.

They got to her office door, and Ginny knocked loudly. They heard a muffled “Come in!” through the door, and Harry pushed it open, allowing Neville and Ginny to precede him through the door.

The first thing Harry saw when he stepped into Professor McGonagall’s office was her proud figure seated with rigidly proper posture behind her simple, yet elegant, desk. He allowed his gaze to wander for a second, taking in the rest of the room for the first time since before the summer.

There was a new picture of the Professor with a woman Harry didn’t recognize on her mantle, but beyond that nothing seemed to have changed over the summer.

Tartan was still the overall theme of the room, the walls were still painted a cozy brown, and the rug was still fluffy. Harry smiled, he loved being in a place so warm and welcoming- so unlike all the other places he’s lived, excepting the Burrow.

As he was closing the door behind him, Ginny started talking, “Good evening, Professor Mcgonagall. Harry, Neville, and I are here to ask you about the proper procedure for starting a club…”

“Take a seat, the three of you.” McGonagall said when they remained standing. There were only two chairs, and Harry gestured for his friends to take the other seats and conjured a chair identical to the other two, but slightly behind them and closer to the door for himself.

“That was well done, Mr. Potter. Go on then, take your seats.”

Harry felt himself blush at the compliment and frantically willed it to go away, telling himself he was being ridiculous. It was nice to know that all the studying he had done over the summer was showing, though.

Ginny and Neville stopped studying the conjured chair that Harry was sitting in, and sat down in the original ones.

“Now, from what I understand, the club you were running last year was illegitimate with no adult supervision, am I correct?” McGonagall stated, more than asked.

“That was the state of the club last year, yes,” Ginny said, “But if we were to have permission to continue with our club- that was more of a study group- then Harry has insisted that we get a professor to supervise our meetings. Especially since extra lessons in defense are more important this year than they’ve ever been before, since Voldemort is out in the open now.”

“I do see where you’re coming from regarding the need for some kind of extra tutoring specifically in self-defense, but how exactly do you envision the club operating? I know I certainly don’t have time to plan and teach an additional lesson a week, and I doubt that any of the other professors have the time either,” McGonagall said.

A small frown crossed her face, and she corrected, “The other professors that are actually capable of teaching… defense.”

Ginny opened her mouth to answer, but Harry cut in before she could, “I would plan and teach the first lesson, at least, under your complete supervision. But, in the extremely probable scenario that you decide that my lesson is subpar, we had hoped that you and the rest of the professors could take turns giving lessons. If even half of the twenty or so professors take a turn, that’s only a lesson every ten weeks.”

Here, Harry began to feel insecure, “But, if that’s still too much, we can make do without a club. Or- maybe the seventh years…?”

Ginny looked upset, but Neville looked nearly outraged. But before either of them could begin to contradict what Harry had said, McGonagall beat them to it.

“I’ve already agreed that a defense study group is necessary, that isn’t the issue currently under contention. The issue is how to implement the group effectively and safely.”

“Well,” Neville said, “The D.A. was very effective, even if it wasn’t the safest- though I think it was as safe as it could have been considering the restrictions we were under. And if you have the time to attend a couple hour meeting once a week, then the problem is solved.”

“That’s right, Harry’s agreed to teach the lessons. We just need an adult to supervise and, of course, permission to start the club.” Ginny put in.

Harry watched McGonagall mull the proposition over. This was the moment of truth, if she said no, then the D.A. would die a quiet death. Hopefully if she did turn them down, she’d suggest an alternative plan.

He shied away from the thought of what would happen if there was nothing, no club or group to help the students prepare for an increasingly inevitable encounter with a Death Eater.

McGonagall stared off into the distance for a few more moments, clearly deep in thought, before taking in a breath.

“I do not believe that the extra year of schooling would give a seventh-year student a sufficient advantage to compete with the experience you gained last year. And I do believe that you must have done a good job; I saw that most everyone who was in your club did significantly better than those who were not. That being said, I am definitely not comfortable letting you all be unsupervised, especially when learning defense. So, I think to lighten the burden of supervising, I’ll see who will agree to supervise and we’ll take turns throughout the semester.”

Harry heaved a sigh of relief when she said that their plan was good, glad that when he was declared unfit to lead the group, it was unlikely that the D.A. would just die. Because even though she didn’t mention it, it was clearly inevitable. And given how hard Neville and Ginny had been willing to push both him and McGonagall to start the group, he’d be willing to bet that they’d help to find a replacement.

“So, how do we arrange a meeting time and location?” Ginny asked.

“Well, I’m not wholly comfortable with you meeting in such an unresearched and unregulated room as I heard you were meeting in last year, so I was thinking that the Great Hall would be a better choice. Since I am free just after dinner most days and I am supervising the first meeting, we’ll have it- Tuesday should work for at least this first one. I can tell Albus to announce the meeting at dinner, but if you want to advertise for the meeting beyond that, you’ll have to arrange for it yourselves.”

“That works for us, professor,” Harry said, “is that all we need to start the club?”

“We haven’t entirely finalized all the details of the club, so it’s all for now. After the first meeting, I’ll ask you to stay behind so we can fill out some paperwork and make final decisions on meeting times. So, that’s all for now,” McGonagall said, picking up a stack of papers from her desk.

Ginny said, “Thank you for your time, Professor,” and the three of them filed out of her office.

Before he closed the door, Harry ducked back in to banish the chair he had conjured. He couldn’t believe he had almost forgotten to clean up his mess.

In the hallway just outside McGonagall’s office, Ginny had already stopped Neville and was bouncing on the balls of her feet. Harry had to smile at her clear excitement to discuss their meeting.

She said, “I knew McGonagall would approve the club! It really only makes sense.”

This was one thing that Harry agreed with Ginny wholeheartedly on, so he agreed readily with a, “Yeah, I’m glad she approved it too. And so quickly too, I had just assumed it would take more time to get everything arranged than that.”

“She probably thinks it’s just as important as we do,” Neville said. “Now we just have to actually get everything ready for Tuesday. Which is literally two days from now.”

“Don’t exaggerate, we absolutely have three days to get everything together,” Ginny countered.

Neville began muttering under his breath and counting on his fingers, “Hey!” he exclaimed, “We totally only have two full days left. It’s Saturday night now so we have all of Sunday and Monday to get it together.”

“But it’s not that late now so we have plenty of time to get something done today and the meeting isn’t till after dinner on Tuesday, so we can get stuff done on Tuesday too. So that’s more like four days, not two,” Ginny said.

“Guys, can we just call it three days?” Harry said, unwilling to risk letting the spat grow into something larger

Ginny and Neville exchanged amused glances and shrugged in acquiescence.

Then Ginny said, “So anyways, we should split up things that need to get done. Since writing the lessons is a lot of work in itself, Neville and I can handle spreading the word. Though updating the galleon from last year would be useful too if you have the time later.”

Harry was relieved that they had settled that so easily.

“Yeah, I can do that. Thank you, guys, for being so helpful with all of this. You didn’t have to, and it means a lot that you have,” Harry said. He gave Ginny a quick hug and waved awkwardly at Neville. “I’ll see you guys later, but I still have work to do, and a lesson to plan.”

As he walked away, he heard Neville say, “Wait, when did I sign up to do all this?”

Then he heard Ginny laugh lightly and say, “You made the mistake of walking by when I needed backup to convince Harry, and now you’re stuck with us.”

Neville responded, “Who knew the library was so dangerous…” but then Harry was out of earshot despite slowing his pace slightly to catch the end of the conversation.

He shook his head and picked up his pace again. He still had so much to do, especially now that he had to make a lesson for next Tuesday, but he couldn’t help taking a little time to listen to his friends’ banter. It reminded him of what he was fighting for.

As he arrived at the library, a smile lingering on his face from watching his friends interact, he took a seat in his favorite alcove in the back.

It was perfect because it was tucked away behind two perpendicular bookcases that seemed to mark the boundary of the library at first glance but were actually the walls of the study nook. And its small size ensured that even if someone found him, they would be unlikely to stay for long.

Since he had found the alcove, his study efficiency had drastically increased thanks to fewer distractions- most people were already used to his fame, but there was the occasional person who just wanted to be near a celebrity and thought that the library was the perfect place to achieve that desire.

Setting his books down, he took a seat and put his head in his hands. Now, in near privacy, he could really let himself think about what he’d agreed to and begin to sort through the mess of feelings that had arisen.

Starting the D.A. again. That’s something he never thought would happen; between his own anxiety about- well, all of it, and the defense professor’s competence, there was really no reason for him to have dug up this particular can of worms until now.

Unfortunately, this meant that through all the hours of drudgery as he did mindless chores, desperately trying to distract himself, he never bothered to plan D.A. lessons.

In hindsight, he really should have used planning lessons as a distraction. Even if they were entirely hypothetical and he never planned to use them, it would still have been a very effective distraction technique.

Thankfully, he did sketch out some ideas to teach his close friends. While Hermione had him beat in anything book learning related and Ron could beat him at strategic thinking in his sleep, he had an advantage in this war that they didn’t- he could see into Voldemort’s mind.
This insight allowed him to become intimately familiar with Voldemort’s styles- both his overall strategy for the war, and his individual dueling style.

His fingers gripped his hair a little harder as he remembered how he had acquired this knowledge. At the beginning of the summer, he had been pulled into Voldemort’s mind nearly every night and been forced to watch Voldemort commit atrocities.

It took Harry several nights of watching and despair and helplessness before he realized that these dreams were not like the ones he had before. When he had dreamed of Nagini attacking Mr. Weasley, he had been the snake. When he had received the vision of Sirius, he had been Voldemort himself.

Now, however, he was a third person observer. He was free to move around, though the further he got from Voldemort, the more it felt like he was moving through a thick syrup. And he could never seem to leave the room Voldemort was in. Despite this, it was still infinitely better than witnessing the acts through Voldemort’s eyes.

It was much easier to recognize that the things he saw were not his fault when it did not feel as though he was the one doing them.

Most nights, Harry had been engaged in a struggle between his urge to hide behind any convenient piece of furniture and pretend that nothing out of the ordinary was happening and his need to watch the victims.

He could do nothing for them, he couldn’t misdirect spells, he couldn’t push the victims out of the way, and he could not take the curses for them- he had tried. So, he felt the least he could do was witness their last. To keep them from being utterly alone in their final moments, even though it was ridiculous to think they could sense him in anyway.

Despite knowing that he couldn’t actually do anything for the victims, he still ended up hovering near them as if to offer support nearly as often as he ended up hiding under a table.

Then one night, he was pulled to Voldemort on a night where no non-Death Eaters were present. Harry had never been pulled to Voldemort for a meeting like this, and he couldn’t help but hope that he would finally be able to witness something useful that he could pass on to the Order, rather than the usual rampages.

As he peered around, taking in the dimly lit but still obviously opulent dining hall the meeting was taking place in, he was dimly aware of the Death Eaters filing in individually and the distant sound of apparition.

Despite there being no victims and no other violent conflict, the air in the room was nearly as tense as though there had been an abundance of both. The reason for the tension was also the reason Harry was present in the room: Voldemort was seated in a throne-like chair at the head of the table.

Looking over at him, Harry was shocked to realize that Voldemort was looking down at a stack of papers. For the first time since he realized he could move around in these visions, Harry made a beeline straight for Voldemort.

It was a bit difficult to see what the papers said from over Voldemort’s shoulder, and though he was reluctant to bring his insubstantial form any nearer to Voldemort than absolutely necessary, he inched forward just a little closer, cursing his weak eyes as he went.

As soon as he came into contact with Voldemort, it was like he was a bug being sucked into the vacuum of Voldemort’s mind. His frantic efforts to free himself only lead to him being drawn further into Voldemort’s mind. Abandoning his struggles, Harry was startled to realize that he was in a hallway lined with doors that stretched on for so long it faded into the distance.

This must be Voldemort’s mind, Harry had realized. For a brief moment he debated the intelligence of randomly picking a door and opening it, before quickly deciding that he really had little to lose.

The door swung open easily at his touch, and Harry fell into a series of memories.

When he had woken up in his bed the next morning, he had immediately vomited onto the floor beside his bed. The memories he had been pulled into had all been from the height of Voldemort’s initial rise to power and were in many ways worse than the visions he had been having all summer.

He rarely recognized the people Voldemort was targeting these days because many of them were simply muggles who had been in the wrong place at the wrong time. Last night he had seen two men who were incredibly like Fred and George- meaning they could only be Fabian and Gideon, Mrs. Weasley’s brothers.

Harry had allowed himself a moment to recover before getting to his feet to clean up his vomit.

The next several times that Harry had been pulled to Voldemort, he had avoided going anywhere near Voldemort. Until a night where the violence was so grotesque that even exploring Voldemort’s mind had to be better than staying.

That time, the door Harry opened had contained memories of Tom’s time in the orphanage. The time after that, Harry was appalled by the memories of Tom’s first murders. As Harry continued to explore Voldemort’s mind, he began to learn which doors to avoid.

He also began to learn how Voldemort fought. And a lot of other things too. Like spells that had gone out of use decades ago, and upon returning Hogwarts, Harry had realized that experiencing silent spellcasting once had enabled Harry to do so easily.

Harry also suspected that apparition would come much easier to him than it would to his classmates thanks to this experience.

He hoped he would be able to convey all this knowledge, of spells and strategies both, to his friends and classmates. Because if he managed to, it would make all the horrors and stains on his soul worth it.

Harry took a deep breath and relaxed his posture, sitting up in his seat properly for the first time since he sat down.

Then again, he could only teach things to people who were present for lessons. His reputation was better now than it had been this year, thanks to the Daily Prophet printing stories on his Chosen One status, but it was hard to believe that people would be so willing to forget what had been said throughout the entire previous year.

Though with Dumbledore’s endorsement, it may not matter what Harry’s reputation was, his word alone was probably still enough to draw many students.

He realized that he had yet to even pull out any supplies necessary for writing a lesson plan or doing any of his school work, so he reached into his bag and pulled out parchment and quill and ink.

Harry cleared his mind as best as he could of all his distractions and worries and focused on the task at hand: helping his classmates survive the coming war.

Severus spent most of the day buried in the potions section of the library. He told himself he was doing research even as he reread his favorite potions text that he had practically memorized by this point.

He went to lunch and dinner at the fringe time right when the food was served to avoid the bulk of the crowds of students. After that terribly awkward interaction with Potter and the youngest Weasley, he had no desire to repeat the experience until he absolutely had to.

He didn’t even know what he’d done wrong! Sure, he hadn’t been a bubbly Gryffindor, but then neither was Potter! He’d been reasonably polite, and Potter had still run off and Weasley had still yelled at him for no good reason.

Did he have to grovel to Potter to be considered polite? If he did, he may as well go tell Albus that this whole disaster was a lost cause.

He sighed to himself. Even if he did bother to tell that to Dumbledore, he knew him well enough to know that it would make no difference at all.

Severus could only hope that he’d caught Potter and Weasley at a bad time, because otherwise he’d be trapped in this hellish body for far longer than he’d ever want to. He kept tripping over things and overbalancing when he reached for things that would, in his normal body, be easily within reach, but in this younger body were just too far to grasp.

Objectively, he knew that teenage boys were clumsy due to rapid body changes, but he couldn’t help but feel ridiculous every time he misjudged a distance. He was not really a teenager, so he ought to be able handle being a teenager better now.

He was discovering, to his horror, that this was not the case.

Looking at the time, Severus reluctantly concluded that it was probably time to begin the trudge back to Gryffindor tower for the first time since Minerva had introduced him to the Gryffindors.

In hindsight, going back to the tower for the first time just before curfew when the common room would be at its most packed was, perhaps, not the best idea. If he had properly thought this through, he would have made sure to make an appearance in the tower at one of the emptier times of the day.

It was too late for that now, unless he wanted to sleep in some abandoned classroom to avoid the issue entirely. As appealing as that idea was sounding, Minerva was probably expecting him to do so and had probably planned a bed check for the night just in case.

He arrived at the portrait of the Fat Lady far too soon for comfort and muttered the password under his breath. Steeling himself for the worst, he stiffened his shoulders and walked through to the common room.

At first it seemed as though he was going to get away without being accosted by nosy Gryffindors, but then a student he vaguely remembered being sorted just this year pointed at him and loudly asked, during one of the random noise breaks, an equally small and unfamiliar student, “Who’s that?”

Severus froze as dozens of pairs of eyes turned to look at him. This was precisely what he did not want.

After a brief moment of shocked silence, a cacophony of questions arose from the crowd. There were so many that even if he were inclined to answer them, he would have been unable to isolate one question from the multitude being asked.

The chatter continued to swell as the Gryffindors abandoned their direct questioning of him and turned to their neighbors to discuss him. A quick glance to the left told him that there were Gryffindors coming down from their rooms to investigate the commotion and blocking his escape to his dorm in the process.

He took a step backwards, reconsidering the wisdom of sleeping in an abandoned classroom. Before he could get much further though, there was a loud cry of, “SHUT IT!”

The room quieted down significantly, though not completely, and he finally managed to identify the shouter as the youngest Weasley just before Potter started talking.

“What are you guys doing?” Potter demanded, “He’s a new student, not a zoo animal. Go back to whatever it was you were doing and get to know him like normal people.”

Remarkably, the Gryffindors listened to Potter and began to disperse. Few of them actually left the common room, but most of them returned to their seats and gave him some personal space. It dawned on him that Potter had just done something nice for him. He continued to stand there for another moment and considered his options.

He could take advantage of the dispersing crowd to go hide in his bed. This was the vastly more appealing option. Or, he could take advantage of Potter’s current seemingly positive disposition towards him to go make an overture of friendship.

Or at least talk to him again. Since Severus had absolutely no intention of groveling or whatever would count as a true overture in Potter’s book.

Sighing to himself, Severus knew what he had to do. He slipped between chairs and tables scattered throughout the common room to get to the corner where Potter was seated. It appeared the youngest Weasley and anyone else he had been with had cleared off.

Looking at the large pile of books next to Potter, he had to wonder if Weasley had simply been near Potter by coincidence, because even now, Potter was already returning to whatever he was doing with the books.

This struck Severus as odd. Shouldn’t Potter be sitting tall and proud in his chair, waiting for Severus to thank him for being so magnanimous? He didn’t seem to expect anything of the sort, instead he seemed to be fully absorbed in the book he was reading and the occasional notes he was jotting down.

Traversing the final feet to bring him into Potter’s view, Severus said, “Thank you. For calling off the hounds.” He grimaced slightly at that, he probably shouldn’t have insulted all of Potter’s housemates in one go like that, but it was habit by this point.

At the sound of his voice, Potter startled ever so slightly. It seemed he really, truly had not expected Severus to come over, then.

“Oh, uh, you’re welcome Alfonse, you looked a bit like a deer caught in the headlights and, well, I do have some idea how that feels, which isn’t great, so…” He trailed off, looking slightly uncomfortable.

Severus wasn’t quite sure what to make of this, Potter did seem to be sincerely trying to ease his experiences, but this conflicted with what he’d believed for the past several years and even with what he’d seen this morning.

It seemed he’d let what Potter said go without a response for too long, because then Potter continued, “Y’know they were probably only so bad because you’re too novel and haven’t been around much today, from what I heard, maybe… if you don’t have anything else to do, you could hang around in the common room for a bit, just so they can get used to you.”

His first instinct was to vehemently decline this suggestion and continue on with his original plan to go and hide in his bed. He stopped himself from saying the words he could already feel his mouth forming, however, and reluctantly admitted to himself that Potter was right.

Severus shuffled his feet and gave the common room a glance, looking for an acceptable open seat. He was not in luck, however, because his appearance seemed to have caused the room to fill to capacity with curious onlookers.

He concluded that as solid as the advice Potter had given him was, it was not to be. He was hardly going to sit on the floor somewhere, after all.

“I…appreciate the advice,” Severus finally said, “But it’s pretty packed here right now.”

He shifted his grip on the bag he was carrying and began to turn away, towards the stairs that lead to his dorm.

“There’s a seat right here,” Potter said, before Severus could finish turning away.

He turned back to face Potter, startled. He had seen the empty seat across from Potter, but he’d assumed that that was reserved for one of his little friends and was definitely not open to the random new student Potter thought he was.

“Oh, I thought that was your friend’s seat, the one that got everyone to be quiet- Ginny, I think she said her name was?”

“She was already heading up to her room when all the commotion happened,” Harry said, “So, if you’d like to take her seat, you’re welcome to,” he concluded.

Severus had not considered this possibility. After breakfast this morning, he’d assumed Potter would want to keep well away from him. Especially after Weasley had yelled at him. But then, Potter hadn’t been there for that, and maybe he hadn’t had anything to do with it.

He could almost hear Dumbledore’s voice in his head, urging him to take him up on Potter’s offer.

And so, he did.

For the next couple of hours, until it was a more reasonable time to actually go to bed, he and Potter sat in the common room together in a more companionable silence than Severus had thought Potter to be capable of.

Even better, by the time Severus quietly got up to go to bed, the stares and whispers from the Gryffindors had died down almost completely. He was not yet as invisible as he had been during his own school days in Slytherin, but he would take what he could get for now.

As he settled into his bed in Gryffindor tower, curtains firmly closed and spelled for privacy, he congratulated himself on a job well done.

Severus woke up the next morning and was temporarily at a loss as to where he was. Then memory came flooding in and he groaned to himself and pulled the covers up over his head, determined to block out reality for just a little while longer.

His life was truly a neverending series of tragedies and he had to hope that this particular tragedy ended soon.

Truly he had to wonder what god he had pissed off to result in the cesspool that was his life. First, he had a shitty childhood, then he had shitty school days, then- and he could admit that this was mostly his own fault- he’d joined the Death Eaters and that was a truly terrible stage of his life. Then he had to hear that damned prophecy that spelled doom for his one childhood friend and her son which lead to him leaving the Death Eaters, but he didn’t even get to properly tell them all to go screw themselves, because he then had to spy on them for Dumbledore! And then Lily still ended up dying! And Voldemort still lived!

So, he was then cursed to spend the next decade teaching at a school where his colleagues and even some of his classmates vividly remembered his school years making it nearly impossible to get any respect. Not to mention the actual teaching of students who, by and large, were too stupid to even learn how to cook, let alone how to make potions.

Then at the culmination of that first decade, Harry bloody Potter turned eleven and came to Hogwarts. Every time Severus saw him it was like his flight or fight reflexes from his own school days were activated- until he saw those damned green eyes that is. When he saw those, he was swamped by guilt and grief from both the original loss of Lily’s friendship- oh how stupid he had been to throw that away- and from his role in her death.

And now he was being forced to live with the spoiled brat. Not only that, he was going to have to befriend the rich and famous sprog somehow, even though they had nothing in common except a thriving hatred for each other. Except, of course, Severus wasn’t even able to use Harry’s hatred of him as a bonding point since Alfonse wasn’t even supposed to know Severus!

He indulged himself in his self-pitying for a moment longer then reluctantly sat up in bed. Even the sun shining through his curtains was tinted scarlet. He thought longingly of his lovely, dark dungeons as he got himself ready for the day.

Heading down to breakfast, Severus was startled to see Potter sitting in the common room. He was at the same table and surrounded by the same books as the night before. He altered his course to intercept with Potter.

His reception last night had been fairly positive, so he figured he may as well try and continue the positive note. Although, now that Severus thought back on the interaction, he had to wonder if Potter’s intentions had been truly altruistic. When Severus had come into the room, everyone had flocked around him because they were so interested in the mystery he presented, and while he had hated being swarmed like that, he now had to wonder why famous, attention-seeking Harry Potter had called everyone off.

Because, in Potter’s mind, that kind of attention was the goal, was it not? So by calling off the crowds, was that an act of jealousy rather than camaraderie?

Severus sighed. Jealous or not, the sooner he befriended Potter, the sooner he could return to his own life.

“Have you had breakfast yet?” Severus asked politely, but Potter didn’t seem to notice, so he tried again, slightly louder this time, “Hey Potter, have you had breakfast yet?”

Potter jumped away from him and Severus hid his snort of derision. Served him right for being so blind to his surroundings.

“Sorry, uh no I haven’t, and would you mind calling me Harry? Since we’re going to be living together and all.”

Severus hadn’t even noticed that he’d called him ‘Potter’ out loud.

“Yes, I can do that.” Severus paused for a brief moment, then said, “And you can call me Eli.”

If Severus had known that Albus was going to give him such a ridiculous pseudonym, he would have insisted on being more involved with the creation of his new identity. As it was, he absolutely refused to go by ‘Al’ as it would amuse Albus far too much to be seemly.

“Eli, then. Did you want to get breakfast together?” Potter said.

Severus swallowed several sarcastic responses and resigned himself to repeating the action many times in the near future. He responded with a simple, “Yes.”

“Alright, let me just pack up my things,” Potter said.

Severus stood around waiting for Potter to be ready to go, struck by the surreality of the situation: here he was, standing around in Gryffindor Tower waiting for Harry Potter to finish collecting his things so they could go to breakfast together.

“I’m ready,” Potter said, shrugging his bag onto his shoulder and heading towards the door.

Severus followed him out of the common room in silence, still pondering the bizarre situation he was in.

He figured that it was alright to be so quiet since Potter seemed comfortable with the situation. The silence allowed Severus to keep his mouth closed and removed the risk that he’d say something Potter would find offensive. The goal was to avoid any setbacks in his mission.

As they sat across from each other in the Great Hall eating their breakfasts, Severus looked up as he finished his cup of tea and was disconcerted to realize that at no point during the meal had he felt abnormal about sitting at the Gryffindor table.

It had taken, what, three meals? For this part, at least, to feel normal.

He continued to stare off into space as he processed this and as he did so, Potter caught his eye.

Potter seemed to take this as a cue to start a conversation, because then he said, “So, what classes are you taking this year?”

And Severus realized that he had absolutely no idea.

What the hell had Dumbledore enrolled him in?

He couldn’t very well say that to Potter, though, so reining in his mild panic, he said, “Oh I still have a meeting with Professor McGonagall today to sort out the final decisions.”

Potter nodded and said, “That’s fair, I imagine it’d be hard to make decisions like that from afar.”

“Yes. I can say that I’m definitely taking Potions and Defense though. Probably Charms and Transfiguration too,” Severus said, since those were some of the more common subjects.

Then Severus asked, “What are you taking?” since it seemed like the polite thing to do.

“Oh, let’s see, Charms, Transfiguration, Defense, Herbology, and Potions,” Harry said, counting off the classes on his fingers as he went.

Severus barely managed to contain a snort of derision at the counting and then he said, “So you want to be an auror, huh.”

Harry looked mildly surprised at this, as though it took a great genius to guess that Harry bloody Potter wanted to be an auror. In some ways, Severus agreed that it was a sensible path to take since it would get him free training in how to defend himself, but really how cliché of him.

“Well, yes, but a lot of careers require those classes, or at least some of them. How’d you guess it so easily?” Harry asked, with a mildly curious expression on his face.

Severus couldn’t believe he’d said that. Really, he had no basis to have made that assumption on… oh god he’d forgotten that he wasn’t even supposed to be from England. Dumbledore had cast a spell back when he’d first transformed into Eli that altered his accent to make it sound like he was a native Floridian as Severus had requested, and then he’d promptly forgotten to consider the implications this should have on his behavior.

Which was absolutely ridiculous since he’d chosen to be from out of country specifically so he would have an excuse to not hero-worship Potter for the ridiculous Boy-Who-Lived thing.

And now he’s gone and put his foot in his mouth. Absolutely brainless.

“Ah- I want to be an auror so I recognized the classes and just assumed that you wanted the same when you named those classes,” Severus finally said, hoping this would alleviate any suspicion.

“Oh, that makes sense. So, are the required classes to be an auror the same in the United States? Are they even called aurors over there?”

Severus now realized the utter inanity of saying he was from somewhere he knew nothing about.

Just because the stakes were comparatively lower didn’t mean he had to be slovenly about the operation, Severus now realized to his regret. He should have done his research properly and properly developed his backstory. Things like the classes he would have taken at a real U.S. school and career aspirations- both the U.S. version and the English version. Hell, “Eli” didn’t even have any hobbies or interests, beyond potions, he supposed, since he had spent the entire day yesterday in the potions section.

“Actually I was raised as a muggleborn, and my mother had been planning to send me off to live with relatives in England once I turned sixteen, so I never learned a whole lot about wizarding culture in the States because I knew I’d be doing the most important part of my schooling here in England,” Severus said slowly, trying his best to come up with something believable that wouldn’t be something Potter could mention to Granger, who could then easily call him out on a lie.

“So, I looked more into the English side of things and,” here Severus had to force himself to sound normal and casual when he said this, “I thought that being an auror sounded interesting.”

Severus really hoped that Potter would buy that mess of lies he just told him and resolved to write it all down somewhere to help him keep his story straight.

“That makes sense,” Potter finally said after a moment.

Then Severus asked, “How did you decide you wanted to be an auror then?”

He figured the more talking Potter did, the less he’d have to worry about contradicting himself later. Even if it meant feigning interest in Potter’s life.

“Oh, a lot of reasons,” Potter said with a nervous chuckle. “Um. It’s getting kinda dangerous here because of Voldemort and, well, I want to do my part to fight him, and, well the skills I’d learn being an auror would just generally be useful.”

Severus waited for Potter to continue, to enlighten him of his duties as the Chosen One and to brag about all the dangerous situations he’s been in. But he didn’t continue. And Severus realized that he needed to find a compelling reason that his “mom” had to move to England when the war was heating up. For once, Severus was grateful that the Ministry had been so adamant about the Dark Lord being dead for the past year because he could claim he hadn’t known about the war.

“Wait- Vol-dee-mort?” Severus asked, purposefully mispronouncing it slightly, “Who’s that? And what danger?”

“I’m guessing you don’t get the Daily Prophet, then? Basically, Voldemort is this bad guy, this xenophobe, as Hermione would say, who first got power a couple decades ago and used that power to do his best to get rid of all the muggleborns. Then he…disappeared, for about fourteen years- but now he’s back and trying to do the same thing again.”

Severus was again surprised that Potter didn’t take the opportunity to brag about his involvement in all this, but he supposed that Potter might just assume that his fame was international even if Voldemort’s wasn’t. It sounded like the kind of ridiculous thing Potter would believe.

“I guess I’m glad my mother didn’t stay here for long after they dropped me off, if she would be in danger. Do you think it’d be safer for me to claim to be a halfblood with all that going on? Since I very well might be, we just don’t know for sure who my father is,” Severus said, frantically trying to come up with a backstory he could live and remember with for the next couple months.

He figured that since he liked to forget his own father’s existence, pretending that he’d not even been in his life wasn’t much of a stretch. And it’d be much simpler for him to explain not getting much mail if he pretended his mother was off doing…something… somewhere very far away. He’d sort out the details later when he was alone.

“I honestly don’t know. I don’t think you really need to worry about it since you’re safe here at Hogwarts- Dumbledore is the only one Voldemort is afraid of, and the castle itself has centuries of wards and enchantments to protect us. If you want better advice though, I definitely recommend asking Professor McGonagall about it when you go to talk to her about your schedule.”

“That’s a good idea, thank you for the advice, Harry,” Severus managed to say without grinding his teeth too obviously or stumbling on the name.

Severus looked down at his plate and was startled to realize that it was empty. He set his utensils down and glanced over at Potter’s plate.

“You don’t have to wait for me to finish,” Potter said when he caught Severus’s glance.

He was relieved that he wouldn’t have to sit around and wait for Potter to finish eating. He gathered his bag and stood up.

“I am going to head out now, I have some planning to do that I want to get done before my meeting with Professor McGonagall,” Severus said.

“I’ll see you later then Eli, good luck with your schedule,” Harry replied.

Finally, Severus was able to make his escape. He hurried out of the Great Hall and quickly decided on the library as his destination.

As he went, he ruminated on his morning so far. Breakfast with Potter- take two- was not nearly as bad as the first try had been in some ways and was much worse in others. He felt like he had made some significant strides in befriending Potter as he was supposed to, but he had also come dangerously close to raising some serious suspicions about his identity.

And now he had committed himself to pretending to want to be an auror. Maybe he could use the “brand new” information about the war Potter had told him to get out of it…? Like, he had wanted to be an auror, but did not want to fight in a war?

This did not feel like sound reasoning for him to get away with suddenly changing his aspirations like that.

Severus decided he would put a pin in the problem and reconsider it once he had outlined his backstory properly. Something better might come to him with all his thoughts laid out in front of him.

And at some point, he really did need to meet with Professor McGonagall, since the packet of details Dumbledore had promised to send him had never arrived. He also needed schoolbooks; Severus was a little horrified to realize.

He wondered if Albus had been kind enough to inform the other professors that he was not really a student, and as such did not need to actually turn in schoolwork. The thought of having to spend hours of his day to complete assignments that he had already done years ago was a truly horrifying one.

Honestly, he knew that Dumbledore wouldn’t have informed the other professors. Hell, he had not even told him, Severus, what his schedule would be, so it was ridiculous to hope that Albus had gone out of his way to make Severus’s life more convenient.

Although, Severus thought as he sat down deep in the Potions section of the library, he was supposed to be a Gryffindor. And Gryffindors are not exactly known for their academic prowess.

His grades were not going to matter, since this identity was not intended to last past school, so it is not like there is any reason for Severus to strive for good grades. He would simply avoid doing his work, and what little work he did turn in would be mediocre at best. Just like the Gryffindor he was supposed to be would do.

This decided, Severus pulled out quill and parchment from his bag and set about recording all that he had said about himself to Potter and fleshing out the rest of his back story.

Harry watched Eli walk off and returned to poking at his breakfast. The longer he managed to sit at the table, the more he would be able to get down, and the sooner he would be able to regain the weight he’d lost over the summer.

He felt bad that he’d been the one to tell Eli about the whole mess in England, especially since Eli had just moved here from the States and didn’t know his blood status for certain. He hoped Professor McGonagall would be able to give Eli better advice.

Thoughts of the war and the prophecy were so intimately connected that Harry felt himself almost reflexively begin to turn the phrasing of the prophecy over in his head.

He had long since acknowledged that that this wasn’t productive and that he’d be better off not thinking about it. So, he pulled his thoughts away from the pit they were falling into it by forcefully turning his thoughts back to the other things he and Eli had talked about.

He was looking forward to- probably- having someone in his classes who also wanted to be an auror, and he was sure that Ron would be too, if Harry remembered to tell him when they finally saw each other again.

Once more, Harry wondered how long this period of Ron and Hermione only wanting to be around each other would last. He missed his friends and it felt like he had hardly seen them at all this year.

He sighed and looked down at his plate. He decided that he had eaten enough and picked up his bag to leave.

This morning he’d risen with the sun after another night spent wandering through Voldemort’s mind. This was more sleep than he usually managed to get on these nights. He could never fall back asleep after that particular ordeal.

Unlike most of these nights, Harry had had a plan and a goal that he’d vaguely planned out the previous afternoon that he had intended to be implemented at the earliest opportunity. He just hadn't expected that opportunity to be so soon. With the decision to restart the D.A., Harry had spent his time in Voldemort’s mind searching for memories from his school days. He was sure that there must have been a time where Voldemort had tutored other students, and he had been right.

As with everything else Voldemort did, he was good at teaching other students. Harry had only managed to find two memories before he’d woken up, but he had to admit, this was a vast improvement from when he’d first begun to enter Voldemort’s mind.

Even once he’d generally gotten a feeling for the layout of Voldemort’s mind, finding a specific memory was incredibly difficult. The labyrinth of doors and hallways was, so far, impossible to reduce to a simple organization scheme. Every time Harry had thought he had finally discovered the pattern and tried to use his theory to predict the next memory, he was inevitably disappointed.

He knew that it was not organized chronologically or by location. He supposed that it could be organized alphabetically, but he hadn’t figured out what aspect of the memory was being used to categorize it, if this was even the case.

This difficulty, almost puzzle-like aspect, of Voldemort’s mind gradually drew him further and further in. After he’d discovered that touching Voldemort would force him into his mind and his myriad horrifying memories, he'd started doing his best to avoid letting that happen.

But then as he was drawn back into Tom’s mindscape, another piece of the puzzle would- well, not fall into place, exactly, but make itself known- giving him a better view of the overall picture. And then the next time, it took less to drive Harry into Voldemort’s mind.

Because the memories Harry stumbled upon, even when they were as graphic or horrible as whatever Voldemort was currently up to, had an element of surrealism to them. Mostly due to them taking place in times that Harry had not existed for. Not surreal enough to stop Harry from being sick after he woke up, not enough to stop him from having nightmares of what he’d seen on the nights he stayed in his own head.

But enough that, when combined with Harry’s interest in solving the puzzle of Voldemort’s mind, it was increasingly worth it as an escape from the vivid and painful reality of the scenes he was forced to witness otherwise.

Harry had known from the start that access to Voldemort’s memories would be useful and he had, in fact, already done his best to record interesting spells and techniques he saw him use. At least, he had done so on the occasions that the memories had not been too terrible or when he was simply so numb that he was able to operate on autopilot.

Thinking of autopilot, Harry was startled to realize that he was sitting in his favorite study nook in the library with his books out and quill and parchment ready to go on the table in front of him.

He hadn’t noticed even a moment of the walk through the castle.

Harry idly wondered if his tendency to use Voldemort’s mindscape as an escape mechanism was making him more prone to introspection and almost losing touch with his body, in a way.

Because when he was in Voldemort’s mind, he was bodiless, and had no need to attend to things like walking around or carrying his things. Whether Harry chose to witness Voldemort’s activities in real time or explore his memories, he was invariably bodiless and empty-handed.

It could also have to do with the isolation and increased violence from his summer with his relatives-

“Hey Harry,” Ginny said, startling him out of his train of thought. He looked up from the parchment he’d been vaguely staring at, and saw that Ginny was standing just inside his nook.

“Hey Ginny,” Harry returned, “How’d you find me? Oh, and you can sit down- if you want to.”

Ginny slid into the seat across from him and said, “Thanks Harry, and as the twins would say,” here she affected a mysterious and mischievous tone, “I have my ways.”

Harry thought for a moment and tried to pinpoint where, exactly, he’d left the Marauder’s Map. It’d been a while since he’d needed it for something, so he wasn’t quite sure where he’d left it. It was probably in his dorm room though, not exactly somewhere Ginny had regular access to, but maybe he’d left it in the common room?

“Your ways don’t have anything to do with a certain Map, do they?” Harry asked.

“Nah, that’s your way of knowing where people are, and I’d never be so unoriginal as to copy your method,” Ginny said loftily. “Seriously though, that’s yours and I wouldn’t touch it without asking you first.”

“I wasn’t certain I hadn’t left it around somewhere and maybe you’d picked it up for me, but I should’ve known you would assert your originality before stooping to copying your brothers,” Harry said.

“Oh, no, I haven’t seen it around. Anyways, do you mind if I join you?” Ginny asked, with something in her voice that Harry couldn’t quite identify.

“Definitely, as long as you don’t mind me interrupting you to ask your opinion on the lesson I’m writing for Tuesday,” Harry replied.

“Sounds great,” Ginny said and started pulling her books out of her bag.

They lapsed into a companionable silence, and Harry was suddenly really thankful that she had come. It was much easier to stay in the present with a friend around.

For the first time since he sat down, Harry shifted his grip on his quill and properly focused on the parchment in front of him.

He hadn’t witnessed all those horrors in Voldemort’s mind for nothing, and now he was going to do his best to write a lesson that used what he’d learned. He set his quill to the parchment and got started.

Severus checked the time and saw that it was nearing 11 o’clock and reluctantly started packing his books away. Minerva was generally free at this time, so it was as good a time as any to go and sort out his schedule.

As he walked through the corridors, he felt a shiver run down his spine, and he suddenly had a terrible feeling about how this meeting was going to go.

He reluctantly knocked on Professor McGonagall’s door and entered when told to do so.

“Ah, Sev- Alfonse, I was wondering if I would see you today,” McGonagall said, setting aside the paperwork she’d been working on.

“First, I’ve decided to go by Eli, and, wait, should you even be calling me by my first name?”

“That’s right, my apologies Mr. Hopkirk. I am assuming you’re here about your schedule?”

“Yes, I am, but if you knew I was going to come to you about it, why didn’t you just send it to me? I am sure you have got better things to do with your time.”

“I would have sent it to you, but as I am sure you have guessed, Albus was the one to plan out your schedule, and I decided to preempt you storming into my office over it by letting you come to me,” McGonagall said and that bad feeling Severus had had earlier slammed back into him.

“What. Did Al-Professor Dumbledore do,” Severus ground out, horrible visions of months spent in Trelawney’s incense filled tower and dodging Hagrid’s crimes against nature filling his mind.

“Here you are,” McGonagall said, handing him a standard student timetable.

Severus took a fortifying breath before scanning it.

“What was he thinking,” Severus demanded, looking over the schedule again, “Where’s Defense- and, why is Potions on here? Of all the classes to make me retake-“

McGonagall sighed. “I knew you were going to say that, I told Albus this was a terrible idea, but he insisted- you know how he is, and said that you were welcome to bring it up with him, if you wanted, but I think you know how that would go.”

Severus grumbled his agreement.

“As for his justification for those specific courses, he expressed his concern that taking Defense would put you in situations that would inevitably bring up your memories of being discovered as a spy,” Minerva paused for a moment.

Severus gestured impatiently, “And potions?” He prompted, when she didn’t resume immediately.

“You’re not going to like this, so I’d like to kindly remind you not to shoot the messenger,” McGonagall warned him with a stern look over her glasses. “He said a lot of things, but it boils down to two words: bonding and tutoring.”

Severus stared at her in shock. She couldn’t be- but she was. There was a smile lurking in the corners of her mouth. Oh, she was trying to squash it, but it was there, and she was enjoying this.

“You cannot be serious,” Severus finally said in response.

“Oh, but I am,” McGonagall said, and Severus could finally hear the humor in her voice and realized that it’d been there the whole time.

“This isn’t funny,” Severus burst out, “this is my life he’s mucking about with!”

“And that’s precisely why I am laughing. It’s certainly not my life he’s messing about with because I am not the one who was childish enough to make an enemy of the child figurehead of our cause.”

Severus spluttered, “But- he’s so- his father-“

“Let me stop you there,” Minerva interrupted him. She paused and fixed him with her stern look again.

“Listen and listen well. I have decided that Albus hasn’t given you enough guidance on this, so close your mouth for a moment and listen to me. If I hear you bring up Mr. Potter’s father in the context of disparaging Mr. Potter’s character again, I will have you in detention until next summer.”

“I will not be in this body-“ Severus started, trying to get the situation back under control.

“Does it look like I care which version of you I have in detention? Harry is not James. You have got to get that into your head if you’re ever going to fulfill this mission of Albus’s. James did not even raise Harry, and if you continue to conflate them, then it will be because you are being willfully ignorant.”

Severus sat in stunned silence as she finished speaking.

Finally, he recovered enough to say, “I do not confuse them, they’re just both remarkably similar spoiled brats.”

“I think if you would exercise that Occlumency that you’re so proud of and separate your memories of James from your memories of Harry and review those memories of Harry, you’ll find that he is remarkably less spoiled than you seem to think he is. I think you ought to go now and think about what I’ve said. Your books should come in the mail tomorrow morning,” Minerva said, turning back to her paperwork in clear dismissal.

Severus remained seated for a heartbeat before he tore out of his seat and out of her office. If this ridiculous body was good for anything, it was for making a quick escape.

After a shockingly productive couple of hours studying with Ginny, Harry was startled to realized that he was pleased with the lesson he’d written. He’d probably make some revisions while practicing it on Tuesday before the actual meeting, but what he had now was a complete draft.

Harry capped his inkpot, set his quill down, and stretched.

“All done, then?” Ginny asked, looking up from her own work.

“I think so,” Harry said and passed the parchment over to her. “If you want to see the whole thing rather than just hearing bits and pieces you’re welcome to.”

“Gimme, gimme,” Ginny said excitedly, sliding the parchment in front of her and over her own schoolwork.

“It’s really not that exciting,” Harry said, a little nervously.

“You’re not the one who’s been trying to piece together what the lesson’s on from very cryptic questions over the past couple hours! Now shush, I’m trying to read.”

Harry packed away the rest of his supplies while she was reading. He hadn’t showered this morning in his haste to work on the lesson, and he was regretting it now. He figured he could hop in just before lunch- as late as his roommates liked to sleep in, they were rarely still in the dorm this late. He didn’t think he’d have to worry about anyone coming in and seeing his lingering bruising and welts and asking awkward questions.

He was counting down the days till he was healed enough to relax his guard, at least a little, around his roommates. It was much easier to explain away a couple faded scars than still vivid bruising, after all.

Once his things were all put away, Harry leaned back into his chair and started absently tapping his foot while he waited for Ginny to finish reading.

Finally, she handed the parchment back to Harry.

“That was awesome, Harry!” Ginny said excitedly. “I can’t wait for you to actually teach me- and everyone else- that stuff. I’m particularly interested in that shield charm you mentioned, I don’t think I’ve heard of it before and it would have come in handy as a defense against the twins.”

“Ah, yeah, it used to be a bit more commonly used, but it fell out of use for no reason that I could figure out, and when I found it in a book I was reading, I thought it’d be useful to show people. Protego is useless against physical spells, so this shield is perfect to fill that defensive gap,” Harry said, a little uncomfortable with lying to Ginny, but unwilling to share that he’d actually found the spell in Voldemort’s mind.

He’d already elected to not give the lesson on specific strategies to survive an encounter with Death Eaters since he hadn’t quite worked out how to explain where he’d gotten his knowledge. He could maybe get away with claiming he’d seen it all at the ministry this past spring but having a front row seat to their training sessions had given him a much deeper depth of understanding than simple observation of a single fight could account for.

This was a compromise where he could give a lesson on the shield charm that would help defend against the transfiguration that Voldemort tried so hard to teach the Death Eaters, and against flying debris from the more explosive spells. Then, once he figured out a better explanation for his knowledge, he could ask whoever replaced him as the leader of the DA if they would mind giving a lesson on the more specific techniques he’d been recording and brainstorming strategies to fight against.

“So, what’re you gonna do now?” Ginny asked.

Harry stowed his lesson plan in his bag and said, “I thought I’d head up to the tower to take a shower before lunch. How about you?”

“Oh, I’ve still got some work for McGonagall that I procrastinated a lot longer than I should have. I can’t believe she assigned such a long essay the first week back.”

“It is your OWL year, so you’d better get used to all your professors loading you down with work now,” Harry said, his voice exaggeratedly heavy with regret.

“Ugh, you mean this is supposed to be normal now?”

“And only going to get worse,” Harry confirmed.

“Taking the Fred and George route is looking more appealing by the moment. You’d better head out if you want to have time to shower before lunch, though. And I do need to work on this.”

“Yeah, you’re right. I wish you luck on that essay,” Harry said and stood and headed out of the library.

Harry groaned and leaned his head against the shower wall. He couldn’t believe he’d been so careless as to forget his robe. The robe that he had gotten specifically so he wouldn’t have to walk from the bathroom to the dorm in just his towel.

If anyone was around, they’d be able to see his scars that he knew were really suspicious when combined with the welts that they’d also be able to see.

He stood in the stream of water for another couple of moments, prolonging the time before he’d have to make a dash for the dorm. He really hoped no one was in their rooms and bemoaned the design of the tower that forced him to go into the hallway before going back into his room. Each dorm had its own bathroom, but the bathroom did not simply connect directly to the dorm, so if anyone was on the stairs, they’d be able to see him.

Eventually, he sighed and shut off the water. He grabbed his towel and dried himself off before tying it as securely as he could around his waist. Really, Harry thought, I ought to start bringing my wand with me so I can summon things if I forget them.

There was nothing for it for today, however, so Harry steeled himself and rushed out of the bathroom and to his dorm.

He made it without seeing anyone and turned to close the door behind him with a sigh of relief.

“Harry?”

He whirled back around and pressed his back to the door, crossing his arms over his torso as quickly as he could.

“Eli, hey, I was just,” he jerked his head backwards slightly towards the bathroom, “in the shower-“

“What happened to you?” Eli demanded.

Harry froze, his mind scrambling to remember what he’d decided he say in this situation.

“Uh-“ Harry shifted his arms, trying to cover more of his bruises.

“It can’t be that embarrassing,” Eli said with a smirk.

Oh- he thought- well that made things easier, Harry supposed.

“You can’t tell anyone, okay?” Harry said, trying to think of something suitably embarrassing.

Eli’s smirk hadn’t faded, and Harry resigned himself to hearing his lie all around the school by tomorrow at the latest.

“Yeah, I promise,” Eli said at last.

“The other day,” Harry began, “I was flying around enjoying the nice weather outside, and I wasn’t really watching where I was going and. I maybe. Sort of. Flew into the Whomping Willow.”

There was a distinct pause before Eli said, “Isn’t that a tree?”

Harry barked out a laugh. He’d forgotten that Eli was new. He probably didn’t even know why it was embarrassing for him in particular to have flown into a semi-stationary object.

“It’s a tree with a very accurate name. It’s branches swing around, and it really does not like to have its personal space invaded.”

“So- why haven’t you gone to the nurse? It can’t be so embarrassing it’s worth going around with bruises like that.”

“I’m on the quidditch team and my teammates would never let me hear the end of it if they knew, and the bruises are really not that bad,” Harry said.

Eli just stared at him.

“Really, it’s not worth going all the way to the infirmary for. I spend way too much time there anyways.”

Eli sighed and turned to dig through his trunk, “If you’re going to play the mar- you’re going to insist on not going to the infirmary, and on the off chance you don’t actually enjoy suffering,” he tossed a jar at Harry, “at least rub that on your bruises.”

Harry examined the jar. It was unlabeled and generally nondescript. “What is this?”

“It will help with the bruising,” Eli said. The ‘obviously’ went unsaid.

“Thank you,” Harry said gratefully before he finally shuffled over to his bed. It was difficult for him to not simply climb in and close the hangings, but he really didn’t want to give the impression that he needed to hide, since Eli seemed so willing to believe he’d simply flown into a tree. Instead, he sat down on his bed and opened the jar to start rubbing it in.

“Anyways. Next time you fly into a tree you should just go see the nurse. I’m going to go down to lunch now so just put that back on my desk when you’re done with it,” Eli said as he left the room.

Harry was incredibly grateful for both the balm and the solitude. Once Eli was properly gone, he closed the hangings around his bed and rubbed the balm over all his bruises in privacy. He was struck again by his love for magic when he was able to watch the ones on his chest fade before his eyes.

Once he’d done his best to get them all, he got dressed in the clothes he’d set out on his bed.

Then, on his way out of the dorm, he set the jar back on Eli’s desk. Harry was suddenly curious where he’d gotten it from, since he hadn’t seen anywhere that sold things like it in either Diagon Alley or Hogsmeade.

Maybe he’d just missed it, or maybe it was something offered on the side at a store he hadn’t bothered to go into. Harry decided to keep an eye out the next time he went.

As Severus headed back down to the Great Hall, he had to wonder what had possessed him to give Potter that jar. He had probably picked a fight with someone and lost- and didn’t want to admit it. He probably deserved those bruises and knew it and knew that Madam Pomphrey would know it and report him.

Although, maybe he had been telling the truth. He couldn’t imagine quidditch star Potter would be happy to admit that he’d flown into a tree, even if it was a mobile one.

Regardless, he’d gone and just given the brat some of his limited supply of potions. At least the action had the benefit of reducing the chance that Potter would suspect his true identity. It was probably the best way the situation could have gone, really, though Severus deeply wished he had decided to go to the library instead of to the dorm.

After he’d run out of McGonagall’s office, he hadn’t really planned where to go. He’d found himself giving the password to the Fat Lady, and what a ridiculous name that was, when his brain had finally cleared from the haze it had been in.

He pulled his thoughts to his more recent action and ruminated over the fact that he had just. Given Potter some of his balm. Especially since it was his specially altered brew that was far more effective than the commonly used recipe was capable of. And since he had no access to his quarters or his lab, he’d be unable to replace it until after this whole charade was over.

Yet again, Severus bemoaned the fact that were simply no qualified potions masters licensed to sell potions in the UK. If you wanted a potion, you had to brew it yourself, and while Severus usually felt a smug sense of superiority at the fact that most people simply had to do without potions because they didn’t have the skill to make them themselves, it was now an incredibly inconvenient fact.

He idly wondered what Madam Pomphrey was going to do when she ran out of stock. With cold and flu season coming up, she was likely going to need more pepper-up potion than she currently had, and Severus certainly couldn’t be asked to restock for her.

He was far too busy with his mission to perform that tedious task.

And she could hardly do it herself, even though she was one of the few actually qualified to do so, because she had a steady stream of patients occupying her attention most days. Wizards may be hardier than muggles but putting a couple hundred of pubescent wizards in one place was a recipe for injuries and mishaps.

Maybe the woman Madam Bones had sent was also qualified to brew healing potions. He had a hard time believing that Albus was short sighted enough to leave Hogwarts without access to the high quantities of healing potions that it regularly needed.

Severus sighed as he pushed the doors to the Great Hall open. He really didn’t know why he was bothering to get worked up over this. If the situation got desperate enough, Albus would have to give him access to his lab and his potions supplies. And when he did, he would brew himself the antidote to the potion- poison, really, that had given him this teenaged form.

He hadn’t had time to manage it at the same time that he was brewing the potion originally because it was simply too complicated for that, but not having an emergency exit from the mission, so to speak, that he had exclusive control over made him uncomfortable.

And, he supposed, this was why Dumbledore had refused to allow him access to his lab and supplies for the duration of the mission. Besides the obvious explanation that he would arouse too much suspicion by accessing them in this form.

He sat down at a relatively empty part of Gryffindor table and served himself some food. As he sat in comfortable silence, his thoughts turned back to his conversation with McGonagall that he had been so determinedly and mostly effectively not thinking of.

On his way to her office, he’d had the thought that it wasn’t going to go well, but he had been astounded by the degree to which it had not gone well.

Neither his schedule itself nor his interaction with McGonagall had been pleasant in the least. He could not believe she had been so rude to him. He did not conflate the Potters; they were simply so infuriating similar that to think of one was to think of the other. It was hardly his fault if everyone else was too taken with their precious savior to be able to see his blatantly obvious faults.

He realized he’d been gripping his utensils too tight and set them down to shake out his hands.

This whole situation was utterly ridiculous, and while he was used to not getting much respect because his colleagues were quick to treat him as if he were still a student, this was a whole new level of disrespect.

Threatening to put him in detention past when this charade ended for making a reasonable and obvious comparison was uncalled for.

Looking up at the head table, he saw that McGonagall and Dumbledore were sitting next to each other and chatting amicably. That explained a lot. Albus’s insanity had obviously begun to rub off on her.

That was a shame. McGonagall had been one of the very few colleagues he’d actually gotten along with, but Dumbledore’s influence could ruin anyone.

He had been staring at his empty plate for a moment, deciding whether he wanted seconds, when he glanced back up and saw Thomas and Finnegan heading right for him. He decided to leave for the library, immediately.

Severus had almost decided not to go to dinner that evening. He could have easily called a house elf instead and not been forced to witness something that would most likely haunt him and all his interactions with her for ages.

After spending the rest of the day in the library Severus had managed to put together a respectable backstory for Eli. He had decided to say that his defense education in Florida had been so sub-par that McGonagall had strongly discouraged him from being an auror and from even taking Defense. He could say that she’d offered to let him take it with younger students, but he’d declined, if anyone asked why he wasn’t at least trying the class.

He’d still have to spend all his class time with Potter, but at least he wouldn’t have to pretend like being an auror was a worthwhile ambition. Eli had been cruelly crushed over not being able to take Defense, so some bitterness and resentment towards the career path was reasonable, Severus had decided.

Regretfully, he had decided that he could not get away with pretending to want to be a Potions Master- it would simply be too suspicious. So, instead, he’d decided his new ambition was to be a healer. It ought to be believable enough for the time being, and his class schedule lined up with that ambition well enough. He had the two most important classes at least- Potions and Herbology.

Then, with his backstory all sorted out, he’d been torn between rewarding himself on a job well done with allowing himself to avoid the Gryffindor brats by eating dinner alone or using his new confidence in his fake identity by eating with Potter.

He’d decided to go to dinner with Potter when Severus had run into him on his way out of the library. They’d walked together and he had been gratified when Potter had been so appreciative of the balm. They arrived at the Great Hall towards the latter half of the dinner period, so they’d been forced to sit closer to the head table than Severus would have chosen to if given the choice.

Too close, and he’d feel like Dumbledore or McGonagall were breathing down his neck.

As they sat down, Severus had absentmindedly scanned the staff table, and felt his heart palpitate with shock when he saw himself, seated in his usual place on the fringes of the table.

He sat there frozen with shock and mounting fury. He should have never ever let Dumbledore have access to his quarters. Never.

Through the haze of anger and lingering shock, he heard Potter say, “…. Eli, Earth to Eli!”

“What? What?” he snapped, turning his attention from the head table to where Potter sat across from him.

“I just wanted to ask if you wanted some macaroni, otherwise I was going to finish it up myself- but, are you alright?” Potter asked.

Severus glanced back at where the fraud sat wearing his body, probably accomplished using Polyjuice potion stolen from his private stores and hair taken from his quarters and grinned joylessly at Potter.

“I’m fine, just got lost in my thoughts for a moment. And go ahead with the macaroni, it’s not my favorite. Who's that teacher talking to Professor Kirke?" he asked Potter. Severus figured he’d only have the one chance to hear Potter describe him and he was curious what Potter would say.

Potter scooped the rest of the macaroni onto his plate and glanced up at the head table. “Next to Professor Kirke?”

Severus nodded.

“That’s Snape, he’s the professor for potions. You said you’re taking potions, right? Well, you’d better memorize the book as soon as you can, because he absolutely hates Gryffindors- and me in particular, and since you’ll be in my class, you might end up collateral damage. You might have a chance though, if you show up already knowing everything.”

Severus felt the injustice of this description boil up, and before he could judge the rationality of this decision, opened his mouth to jump to his own defense, “Have you considered-“

“Sup,” the youngest Weasley interrupted as she plopped down next to Severus.

He jumped, just a little, from shock. And realized, suddenly, how dumb he had almost been. Why had he almost done that? Potter hadn’t even said anything that bad.

“What’re we talking about?” Weasley said as she served herself.

Severus declined to answer by filling his mouth with food.

“I was just telling Eli who Snape is, and he was about to say something when you sat down,” Potter said.

“Damn I forgot what I was going to say,” Severus decided to say.

“My bad. Anyways, I love a good Snape roast,” Weasley said, continuing to say something that Severus immediately tuned out, continuing to shovel food into his mouth at a steady rate to prevent needing to respond. He turned his gaze back to the head table, curious now as to who was pretending to be him.

One sweep of the table revealed only one person missing, so he scanned the table again, sure that someone else must be missing. Surely, surely, Dumbledore would not be cruel enough to do this to him.

But he had, because the only person missing was Minerva McGonagall.

He resisted the urge to bury his face in his palms or to simply run out of the Great Hall and never show his face again. McGonagall, a woman who had known him since he was eleven and had seen him during some terrible parts in his life, had also now seen and experienced his body.

He would never be able to look her in the eyes again.

Severus tuned back into Potter and Weasleys’ conversation. He’d rather listen to them insult him than think about McGonagall wearing his body anymore.

“…Quidditch tryouts?” Weasley asked.

Thank god, they were talking about quidditch now instead.

“I haven’t quite decided yet, it depends when the DA is now, and we don’t know if Tuesdays is a permanent thing,” Potter said.

Before Severus could ask what the DA was, Albus stood up and cleared his magically amplified throat.

“If I can have your attention for a moment,” Albus paused, waiting for the students to quiet down. “Thank you. Severus you have the floor,” he said.

Severus couldn’t believe how odd it was to hear his name, but have it not refer to him.

Minerva stood up, still looking exactly like Severus ought to, and said, “Thank you Albus. I would like to announce that I am taking a leave of absence. That is all,” and sat back down.

He could tell that Minerva was deeply uncomfortable, and this, at least, brought him some measure of comfort. If he had to suffer through this, she did too.

“We wish you restful vacation. I would also like to announce that Professor Chen is taking over for Professor Snape,” he then had to pause as the Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, and Ravenclaw tables exploded into applause.

In the pause, Chen stood up, and Severus focused on trying to remember if he’d ever heard of her rather than get angry at the students’ reactions.

Once the hall quieted down again, Dumbledore said, “Would you like to say a few words, Professor Chen?”

“I would love to, thank you Albus,” she fixed her gaze on the hall, but Severus felt like she was staring at him in particular which was ridiculous, before she continued, “I have heard some- less than favorable things about your previous instructor. Hopefully I have the time to rectify the situation, and I look forward to seeing you all in class.”

The hall erupted into applause again, but Severus remained frozen in place. She had just insulted him to his face. Regardless of how you looked at it- he appeared to be at the head table, and she had made eye contact right with him.

“I am so beyond excited for her class,” Weasley said enthusiastically.

“I am so excited to actually learn potions,” Potter replied.

Severus suppressed what he’d actually like to say this and said, “When’s our first class with her?”

Potter paused briefly before saying, “Monday afternoon! Awesome we get to see her soon!”

Weasley groaned and said, “I don’t get her till Wednesday. That’s so unfair.”

“We don’t know for sure that she’ll be good,” Severus said, struggling to keep the bitterness from his voice.

Weasley scoffed, “She cannot possibly be worse than Snape.”

“Remember, Eli doesn’t know how bad Snape was,” Potter said.

“Ah, that’s right. Well. Just be happy you never had to suffer under Snape. I swear I learned more from listening to Fred and George experiment through the walls than I have in all four years of potions classes,” Weasley said.

Severus stood up before he realized what he was doing. “I just realized that I forgot my favorite quill in the library. I’m going to go see if it’s there. See y’all later.”

“Hope you find your quill!” Harry called after Eli.

“Oh god, he’s not going to be another Hermione, is he?” Ginny asked with exaggerated nervousness.

“Look on the bright side, if he is, then that’s another person to copy off of!” Harry joked.

Ginny hummed for a moment and said, “Okay yeah, that would make it worth it. Hermione doesn’t like it when we bug her too much so we can spread our harassment around so neither of them get too annoyed.”

“That’s the spirit,” Harry said.

“Speaking of Hermione, I haven’t seen her around a lot lately. Or Ron for that matter. And they’re usually both glued to you…” Ginny trailed off with a question in her eyes.

“They’re a little preoccupied with snogging each other at all times,” Harry said, rolling his eyes.

“You mean they’ve found something that Ron likes to do better than eating?” Ginny said, exaggerating the shock in her voice and placing her hands around her face like The Scream.

“I know! I could hardly believe it either. Wait- does that mean they just never told you? They at least wrote a letter to me and, hell, Ron lives with you. He never even said something over breakfast?” Harry asked incredulously.

“No!” Ginny said, “I had no idea they were dating! I kinda thought you guys were doing something insane and illegal and had to split up for it!”

“As plausible as that is,” Harry said, thinking of second year and the Polyjuice potion and, more recently, the original incarnation of the DA, “they really are dating and really intensely too.”

“The more you know, I suppose. You ready to head out?” Ginny asked taking in both their empty plates.

“Yeah, let’s go.”

Harry glanced back at the head table as he went and saw that Snape was already gone. He was incredibly relieved not to have to deal with the man this year. He was stressed enough as it was, and he couldn’t imagine any professor could be more stressful than Snape was.

“Hurry up,” Ginny called when he fell behind her.

He picked up his pace and closed the distance between them and they walked out of the Great Hall together.

They walked together through a couple hallways in amicable silence.

Until they literally ran into Eli in a particularly narrow shortcut.

“Oh! Shit, sorry dude,” Ginny said as she bent over to start picking up their things that had scattered.

Harry reached down to give Eli a hand up. He ignored it and climbed to his feet on his own.

“You should watch where you’re going,” Eli said.

“I didn’t do it on purpose! Here’s your stuff,” Ginny said and handed Eli’s things to him.

“You’re not hurt, or anything are you?” Asked Harry. That would be just what he needed- to hurt the person who had just healed him today.

Eli brushed himself off and said evenly, “I’m fine. Were you heading to Gryffindor Tower?”

“Yup,” Ginny replied.

“Then I may as well walk with you, so I don’t get bowled over again,” Eli said with a bit of snark coming back into his voice.

“Bold of you to assume that I won’t deliberately trip you now,” Ginny said.

“Then I’ll have to trip you first,” Eli replied, and promptly cast a tripping hex at Ginny.

Ginny fell forward, caught herself on her forearms, agilely rolled to her side, and then to her feet all in one fluid motion.

“Live with the twins for fifteen years and see if you don’t learn how to recover from a tripping hex,” she said smugly.

Harry squashed a grin at Eli’s shocked expression. “Oh, right,” Harry said, “The twins are two of Ginny’s older brothers and they’re legendary menaces. They run a joke shop in Diagon Alley now and the Hogwarts population were their original test subjects.”

“Hey now, Ron and I were the original, original test subjects,” Ginny protested.

“I suppose that goes without saying, if they were as bad as you say they were,” Eli said.

“It should be said! I really went through it! And don’t use the past tense, they’ve only gotten worse now that they’re getting paid for it.”

They were walking down a hallway with several abandoned classrooms and broom closets that was quite popular for students looking for privacy- to either study or have privacy with someone in particular.

As Harry walked by one of the doors, it flew open forcefully, knocking him into Ginny who was right beside him.

“Whoa!” Harry exclaimed.

Malfoy stepped through the door that he had just flung into Harry. “Potter. I see you’re still getting in the way again. What, no Dogfather to-“

“Shut up, Malfoy,” Ginny spat.

“C’mon Ginny, Eli, he’s not worth it,” Harry said tugging uselessly on Ginny’s arm. She was staring at Malfoy with fury in her eyes, and Harry didn’t want her to do something that would get her in trouble.

“Eli?” Malfoy’s attention snapped from Harry and Ginny and landed on where Eli had been quietly standing, “Where did you come from? You weren’t sorted with us and you look too old to be new.”

“I transferred from Florida, in the south of the United States. It’s nice to meet you…Malfoy?” Eli said.

“You Americans truly don’t know anything about anyone do you? What’s your last name?” Malfoy demanded.

Harry did not like where this was going.

“It’s Hopkirk, but-“ Eli began, before Malfoy interrupted.

“Hopkirk? Then why do you sound so nasally? That accent is ridiculous. And besides that, I would have thought a Hopkirk would have better taste than to befriend Potty and co.”

“Eli can befriend who he wants,” Ginny snapped.

“I suppose I can’t expect much from a Gryffindor. They have notoriously poor choice in friendships. And what the hell is up with your hair, Eli? It’s like Potter’s but blonde, absolutely ridiculous. Wait, is that how you choose your friends, Potter? By looking for the people with the worst hair?”

Harry saw Eli reach up to pat his hair down, but it stubbornly bounced back up when he did. “My accent is just fine, and I was born with my hair, thank you.”

“Don’t you have somewhere to be, Malfoy?”

Malfoy sighed dramatically, “I can tell when I’m not wanted around. I suppose I’ll leave you to your bad company.” He turned away from the direction Harry and his friends were going with a dramatic flourish and quickly disappeared around a corner.

“I hadn’t expected him to give up so easily,” Ginny said curiously.

Eli frowned after where Malfoy had disappeared and said, “He probably didn’t like being alone and outnumbered- but then, why was he so antagonistic?”

“Oh, he enjoys it, he likes to keep poking at us till we snap and then find some way to pin it all on us so we’re the ones who get in trouble,” Harry informed Eli.

“There was no one around and you did have him outnumbered, you could probably have gotten away with snapping,” Eli said.

Ginny groaned, “Oh man, I bet we could have! Snape’s leaving so Malfoy would’ve probably gotten in trouble with us for once.”

“Who knows if Snape if properly gone yet? It’s probably for the best that we didn’t do anything yet, at least until we confirm that Snape is really gone,” Harry said.

“I suppose there is always next time,” Ginny said.

“Is he always like that then?” Eli asked and tapped his hand on a random door as they walked by.

“Pretty much,” Harry confirmed, “He’s got a special vendetta against me that started in our first year, but it’s just gotten worse over the years. If the prat would just leave me alone, I’d be happy to ignore him, but he always insists on harassing me.”

Ginny snorted, “Malfoy ignoring you. That’s a good one. Snape will have a civil conversation with you before that will happen.”

Eli coughed violently.

Then they heard a loud rattling and muffled shouting from behind the door Eli had tapped. They stopped and turned around.

“What was that?” Ginny asked.

There was another burst of rattling and shouting.

“I think someone’s trapped in that room!” Harry exclaimed, rushing over to the door.

This close to door, Harry was finally able to discern who the voices belonged to and what they were saying.

“Oh my god, it’s Ron and Hermione and they’re trapped,” Harry said as he rattled the doorknob.

This was all the door needed to open, it seemed, because Ron and Hermione fell into the hallway through the now open door. They looked terrible and didn’t smell all that great either.

“What happened to you?” Ginny asked incredulously.

“We have been locked in there all day, with no food at all,” Ron said.

Harry chuckled, of course that would be the part Ron would focus on.

“I think the door got stuck behind us when we went in and we tried everything we could think of to open it that wouldn’t be dangerous to us- though we were getting close to trying our riskier ideas, when we heard one of you tap the door,” Hermione expanded.

“That was me, but what were you doing out here anyways?” Eli said.

Ron turned a beet red.

Hermione glanced at Ron and said, “We just wanted somewhere private to study. And it’s been a very long day without food or a bathroom, so we’re going to go down to the kitchens and get some food then shower. We can catch up afterwards?”

“That sounds good,” Harry said.

“Yeah I want to hear more about this ‘studying’ you were doing,” Ginny said with a smirk.

Ron and Hermione slipped past the three of them and headed towards the kitchen, their swinging hands occasionally grazing. Harry didn’t know who they thought they were fooling by not openly holding hands and rolled his eyes at their antics.

Harry, Ginny, and Eli returned to their walk to the common room.

“By the way, Eli,” Harry said, “Are you alright? That was a nasty cough you had earlier.”

“Yes, I’m alright, I just had something in my throat.” Eli managed to say after another moment.

Harry tossed another concerned glance at Eli. “If you’re sure, we could take you to the hospital wing, if you need to go.”

He fixed Harry with a look and raised an eyebrow, “Are you really in a position to suggest I go to the hospital wing?”

Harry quickly looked away and saw Ginny looking between them curiously.

“Eli, how have you already encountered Harry’s hospital wing avoiding tendencies? It better not be what I think it is.”

“I think you know that it is what you think it is,” Eli said.

“It wasn’t that big of a deal,” Harry said as they entered the corridor the entrance to the common room was on. “How long do you think the Fat Lady has been trying to break that glass for?”

Ginny nudged him with her shoulder, “Nice subject change.”

At nearly the same time, Eli said, “The Fat Lady? It feels rude to call someone that to their face.”

The Fat Lady called down the corridor, “I chose that name specifically so twig bitches like you wouldn’t call me that behind my back. And I’ve done it before, this glass is just stubborn.”

“Huh,” Ginny said, “I did not know that.”

Eli said, “I suppose that’s one way to avoid name calling.”

“Think I should go by Scarhead, then?” Harry asked as they gave the password to the Fat Lady and climbed into the common room.

Ginny replied with a voice dripping with mock sincerity and humor, “Unfortunately for you, Malfoy is the only one who calls you that, and I doubt that would be enough of a deterrent to get him to stop.”

The three of them sat down at a table and continued to banter well into the evening.

Minerva sat down in Albus’s office, anxiously awaiting the moment the Polyjuice potion would wear off.

The feeling of being in the body of a colleague she had known since childhood was quite simply: bad. She had taken on many physical forms in the course of being a transfiguration master, but this particular form was not one she had ever considered- for very good reason.

And she never, ever, wanted to think about the experience again. She understood why Albus had wanted this to be done, but that did not mean she understood why it had to be her. And knowing it was necessary certainly didn’t mean she had to like it.

When Albus had asked her if she would mind doing a favor for him, she had assumed, foolishly, that it would be something along the lines of paperwork he didn’t feel like doing or maybe correspondence with someone Albus found odious. What she did not expect was to be asked to masquerade as Severus to alleviate any suspicion that Mr. Hopkirk and Severus were one and the same.

One thing she was grateful for, she supposed, was that she had not been responsible for acquiring the hair, or the potion, or the robes. Wearing Severus’s body was already enough of a violation without trespassing on top of it.

Albus, who had no such qualms over trespassing, had hand delivered the supplies to her just before she was due to go to dinner. She had gotten dressed in Severus’s clothing before dropping the hair into the potion. She then gulped it down as quickly as possible to reduce the quantity of it that she had to taste.

This order of events allowed her to avoid the trauma of changing out of her own clothes and into his while wearing his body, and thus avoid having to actually see Severus’s body. It was still an overall awful experience, but this bit of foresight saved her from having an even worse one.

Finally, finally, she felt the horrible sensation of her skin and bones melting and reforming into her proper form. She transfigured Severus’s robes into something like an outfit she owned and continued to wait for Albus to turn up.

She wasn’t sure if he had anything to discuss with her, but regardless of what he wanted, she had things she needed to talk about with him. Things like whether Severus was going to be paid for the time he spent as a student, and if he was, where the pay for the new Potions professor was going to come from. They certainly hadn’t budgeted for this at the beginning of the year.

Frankly, she rather suspected that Albus had intended for her to go to her quarters for the rest of the evening after dinner. But she figured this was a fine time to confront Albus with the realities of the budget.

She heard one of Albus’s many contraptions announce his imminent arrival and unnecessarily smoothed her robes down. She was going to enjoy putting Albus through it after the distress he had asked her to go through.

And her wife was much less likely to attempt murder if Minerva had some story of retribution to talk about alongside the trauma.

As Albus came into the room, he was preceded by the sound of his jubilant whistling. Minerva quickly cleared any signs of her anticipation from her face by thinking, briefly, of how it felt to sit at the head table in her former student’s body. She shuddered at the memory and turned to face the door.

“Ah, Minerva,” Albus said, freezing in his path to his desk. “I thought you’d be with Florence by now.”

“I’ve decided to delay going home to her so you and I could discuss a few things,” Minerva said, now wishing that she had stood nearer to the door, since Albus was now glancing over his shoulder as if debating making a run for it.

He made the right decision however, because then he finished making his way to his desk. “This won’t take too long will it? Only, I had other things I wanted to do,” he said as he fidgeted with his lemon drop jar.

“I think we both have things we’d rather be doing,” Minerva said in a voice completely devoid of sympathy and thinking longingly of the bath Florence had promised her, “but, some things should not be procrastinated.”

“Very well then, what is so urgent?” Dumbledore asked, finally committing to a lemon drop and popping it into his mouth.

Minerva finally allowed a smile to cross her face as she pulled out a hefty stack of paperwork and set it directly in front of Dumbledore with enough force that it landed with a satisfying thunk against the wood of his desk.

“The first thing we have to cover is the paperwork finalizing Professor Chen’s position as potions master and resident brewer,” Minerva moved around his desk to stand next to Dumbledore and pointed at a line on the first page. “Sign here,” she directed him, and after he signed, she flipped the page and pointed again, guiding him through the thick packet of paperwork.

Once they made it through that task, Minerva said, “See that wasn’t so bad, was it? Now another loose end from the whole ‘making Severus befriend Mr. Potter’ thing is that you still haven’t decided, officially, if you’re going to pay him for it. Now, you absolutely should pay him because you didn’t give him a choice to participate and you can’t very well fire him.”

“Of course, I’m going to pay the boy!” Albus said, “If that’s all…”

“Unfortunately, there is no money left in the budget to pay both Severus and Professor Chen, so for however long Severus is undercover, his pay will have to come from your private accounts.”

“Are you certain there’s no wiggle room in the budget?” Albus said, plucking at the stack of papers hopefully.

She batted his hands away.

“I am quite certain. If you look here,” Minerva shifted the stack of papers in front of Albus to the appropriate page, “you’ll see Severus’s pay in this column and the total cost in this column. And here I added the initial cost of wardrobe and school supplies that you already paid for-“

Dumbledore picked up the paper in question and held it closer to his eyes. Then he held it at arm’s length away and squinted at it.

“The numbers won’t change regardless of how you look at it, Albus,” Minerva said with a hint of amusement in her voice.

Albus responded, still seeking an alternative where he would not be personally responsible for Severus’s pay, that Minerva knew did not exist. They spent an entirely unreasonable amount of time going back and forth on the topic, until finally, as Minerva knew he would, Albus arranged for Severus’s pay from his personal vaults.

Really it was only fair that Albus take on the expense of Severus’s “mission”. Regardless of how important it was or was not for the war effort that Severus and Harry got along, there were other ways to accomplish that end that were not nearly so costly.

Dumbledore had clearly chosen this particular method purely for the enjoyment he would derive from watching it unfold.

With that accomplished, Minerva finally headed back to her quarters, and more importantly, to Florence, for long overdue decompressing after the horrors of this evening.

Harry woke up on Monday morning feeling better rested than he had in ages. He had not been dragged into Voldemort’s mind and his own dreams had been blessedly free of nightmares. And he had still managed to wake up first, so he had plenty of privacy to get ready.

Once he was ready to go, he sorted through his books to get his bag together for class. When he was studying in the library, his schoolbooks tended to get all mixed into the library books, and even with featherlight charms it was simply more convenient to only bring schoolbooks to classes.

By the time he was done with that, Eli, Neville, and Ron were up and getting ready for the day, so Harry decided to wait for them in the dorm.

The three of them met up with Ginny and Hermione in the common room and all headed down to breakfast together.

It was the first time in ages that Harry had gotten to eat with all his friends, and this put him in an even better mood than he was already in.

They settled in at Gryffindor table, and Harry listened to Hermione and Ginny complain about the extremely loud argument two third year girls had gotten into at 2 am. He nodded at all the right places, glad that the sound hadn’t carried to the boy’s dormitories and disrupted one of his rare nights of good sleep.

Right on schedule, the mail was delivered, and when Eli’s delivery owl dropped his package directly into his oatmeal, Harry was immensely grateful that Hedwig was much too dignified to disgrace herself with a delivery like that.

Ron laughed and said, “Alfonse, who’d you offend to get a delivery like that?”

Ginny gave Ron a look and simply said, “Errol.”

“Errol can’t help it, that owl looks perfectly capable of a clean delivery, so it must have chosen to deliver that package like that,” Ron defended himself.

Eli cleared his throat as he magically cleaned the package and said, “I go by Eli, actually, and I honestly don’t know why it would have delivered my package like that- I’m new to the country, after all.”

“Is that your middle name or something?” Hermione asked. “Only, Eli isn’t derived from Alfonse, so it’s not a typical nickname.”

Eli shrugged and said, “It’s just a name I like to go by since Alfonse is a dumb name.”

“Fair enough,” Ron said and mock toasted Eli with his now empty juice glass.

Harry glanced over and saw that Eli was unpacking what appeared to be his schoolbooks.

“So, did you get your schedule finalized with McGonagall?” Harry asked Eli.

Eli shifted the books so the group could see them clearly and said, “Yes, I am going to be taking Charms, Transfiguration, Herbology, and Potions.”

Before Harry could respond to this, he saw Ron and Hermione exchanged a glance and stand up from the table.

Pausing on their way out of the hall, Hermione told them, “Ron and I have something we want to check on before classes- so, we’ll see you later.”

They were only a couple feet away when Ginny promptly said, “Yeah, they need to check each other’s tongues out.”

Harry snorted.

“I’m so glad I know they’re dating now, it gives me a lot more material to work with when messing with Ron,” Ginny continued.

“Wait, weren’t they locked in a classroom together all day yesterday?” Neville asked.

“Yes, yes they were, Neville,” Ginny answered him.

“Then why-“ Neville began.

“Because they’re clearly obsessed with each other,” Eli said drily.

After a moment, Harry said, “Oh, Eli, I meant to ask you why you’re not taking Defense? You said you wanted to be an auror, right?”

“Yes, so, apparently the Defense curriculum in Florida is so below the Hogwarts standard I would have had to join a fourth- or fifth-year class, and as awesome as being an auror sounded, I was not willing to do that to be one. So, after discussing it with Professor McGonagall, I’m going to try and be a healer. I’ll still get to help people, but I won’t have to take several years of extra Defense to do it.”

“That sucks-“ Harry started before Ginny interrupted him.

“That definitely sucks, but we really ought to leave for class,” she said.

Looking around, Harry was surprised to see that the Great Hall was emptying of students as they left for their classes. He quickly stood up, grabbing his bag as he went.

“Guess we’ll see you after class, Eli,” Neville said as he too stood up.

“Yeah, I’ll see you then,” Eli confirmed.

The rest of them joined the crowd leaving the Great Hall, Neville and Harry heading to Defense and Ginny to Transfiguration.

After lunch, Harry, Hermione, Eli, and Ron had Potions together. Harry was more excited for a Potions class than he had been since his first year when he had finally accepted that Snape was never going to be a fair instructor and the subsequent loss of interest in Potions this acceptance had caused.

“Has anyone heard anything about Professor Chen?” Harry asked the others as they walked down to the dungeons.

Hermione, Ron, and Eli all shook their heads.

Ron said, “Well, we know she can’t be worse than Snape, am I right?”

“Never say never, Ron. What if she has the same biases Snape has, but is also incompetent at Potions,” Hermione said.

Ron appeared to think this over for a moment before saying, “Mmm, I just don’t see that happening.”

“I’m not saying it’s probable,” Hermione insisted, “but I am saying that it’s possible for her to be worse than Snape, like that old adage: prepare for the worst, but hope for the best.”

They arrived outside the classroom and queue’d up behind Terry and Padma who were bickering about something.

Eli scoffed and said, “I can’t believe the professor is late and it’s only her first day.”

At that exact moment, the classroom door opened.

“What was that Mr. Hopkirk?” Professor Chen asked as she stepped through the door.

Harry jumped at this and he didn’t seem to be the only one.

“Nothing, professor,” Eli muttered.

“I thought so. Well, come on in everyone. If you look at the board, you’ll see the seating chart and partner assignments. These will last for at least the first month, possibly longer if I feel they’re effective.”

Harry shuffled to the front of the room behind Padma and Terry. He scanned the chart and noticed that Hermione was paired with Daphne and Ron was paired with Ernie before he saw that he was paired with Eli.

He turned and made eye contact with Eli, then tilted his head towards their assigned seats in the front left of the room.

As Harry pulled his supplies out of his bag, he said quietly to Eli, “Sorry you got stuck with me. I am notoriously bad at the whole potions thing.”

“Well. I will be good enough for the both of us, then,” Eli said.

Harry hoped Eli’s school had been better with Potions than it had been with Defense, otherwise they were screwed.

The rest of the class trickled in over the next couple minutes, accompanied by groans when they realized that seats and partners were assigned.

Once everyone had arrived and taken their seats, Professor Chen stood up from where she had been seated at her desk and cleared her throat. The class instantly fell silent, and Harry sat up at attention, inking his quill to be ready to take notes.

This might be his only chance to learn Potions from someone who didn’t hate him right from the start.

“Thank you all for taking your seats quickly. Before I get into more class relevant topics, I thought I’d tell you all a bit about myself. My name is Christina Chen. I received my potions mastery at a small institution in China. Since then, I’ve travelled around the world advising programs and institutions on how to improve their potions programs. Most recently I was asked by your Director Bones to help reform the potions segment of the auror training program, and I had just finished when Headmaster’s Dumbledore plea for a replacement professor came in. And that’s the story of how I got here.”

Chen paused and surveyed the class before continuing, “Enough about me, though. As you all know, this is the last year before your NEWTs. I’ve been given a list of topics to cover, and we’ll do our best to get through them all, but I personally think it’s more important for everyone to understand a topic before moving on than it is for us to cover everything.”

This already sounded amazing to Harry.

Professor Chen lit up a projector with her wand. “First, we’ll be talking about the different categories of potions,” she waved her wand and six categories appeared on the projection, “the first is healing potions.”

She continued to lecture on the different categories of potions and their properties for the rest of the period. The first time Hermione raised her hand to ask a question, Harry had felt the residual concern that such an action would have invoked when Snape had taught the class, but Professor Chen had simply answered the question and then resumed the lecture once Hermione indicated that she understood.

By the end of the lecture, Sue and Ernie had also asked questions with the same outcome. The environment of the class, despite being held in the same classroom as always, could not have been more different than it had been when Snape taught.

“Alright class, that’s all we have time for today,” Professor Chen had concluded, “Next class will be another lecture, this time going more in depth into healing potions as a category, but the class after that will be a practical lesson, so start researching a healing potion to brew with your partner then. Class dismissed- except, Mr. Hopkirk, would you mind staying behind?”

Harry said, as he packed up his stack of copious notes, “I’ll wait for you in the hall.”

Eli was sitting stiffly in his seat and did not respond.

Harry filed out with the rest of the class, but he wondered if Eli was alright. He hadn’t taken any notes at all and hardly seemed to pay attention to the lecture at all. Eli was quite lucky that Snape wasn’t their professor anymore, because that behavior would have been nothing short of a death sentence with Snape in charge of the class.

He leaned against the wall opposite the classroom door to wait for Eli. When he saw Ron and Hermione come out of the classroom, he said, “Hey I’m waiting for Eli if you want to join me.”

Hermione grimaced and said, “I’m sorry Harry, but now’s the Prefect meeting and we have to go.”

“That’s right,” Ernie said pompously from behind her, “we really must go right away.”

Hermione shrugged helplessly and Ron said, “Sorry mate,” as they both got pulled by Ernie along with Malfoy and Padma.

Harry shrugged back as they went. He couldn’t even be annoyed at them this time, since it was clearly a real obligation. Honestly, Harry was quite glad to not need to go. He’d heard some truly terrible things about how boring those meetings were.

And, he thought, another bonus of not going was that Ernie had not tried to manhandle him. The image of Ernie towing Hermione and Ron through the hallways was an entertaining one that Harry was definitely going to describe, in detail, to Ron and Hermione the next chance he got.

After a surprisingly brief amount of time in which Harry vaguely planned what he was going to do with the rest of his day, Eli came out of the classroom looking disgruntled.

“Is everything alright?” Harry asked.

“It’s fine, I just need to ‘be more respectful’ of my professors,” Eli said, clearly not pleased.

“She didn’t take points or give you detention, then?”

“No, just a warning,” Eli said.

Harry shrugged, “Then it can’t have been that big of a deal. She probably knows you’re from the States and wanted to let you know that we do things a bit differently here.”

Eli paused and said, “Something like that.”

“I’m going to the library now, if you want to join me,” Harry offered.

“Yeah alright, I’ll go with you.”

Harry turned towards the library and set off. Eli still seemed to be in a bit of a mood, so he refrained from pestering him with conversation. They walked to the library in silence.

Severus followed Potter to a tucked away corner of the library and had to wonder what had possessed him to agree to go with him. He was still fuming for so many reasons he hardly knew where to begin sorting it out.

Chronologically, his day had started out terribly. Aside from the horror of waking up in Gryffindor tower surrounded by hormonal teenagers, his books had been delivered directly into his morning oatmeal.

He’d been able to clean it up easily enough, but he should have known then that his day was going to be bad.

Then he’d had to watch as all the sixth year Gryffindors had gone to Defense without him. A small part of him knew that a significant part of the anger he felt at that came from the regularity with which he’d been excluded from groups growing up.

However, he chose to focus on the anger that was directed at Dumbledore, since it was his fault that he was even in the position to have feelings of isolation from his childhood brought to the surface.

He sat and fumed at Dumbledore for a moment before he continued sorting through his day.

After a morning spent catching up on potions journals that he had been neglecting for quite some time, he’d gone to lunch and, out of habit, sat with the same crowd he’d sat with at breakfast.

This ended up being a mistake because all they did was rave about Professor Kirke, which had brought back all the feelings he’d been trying to suppress!

Severus was brought back to the preset briefly when he realized that he’d been sitting in the library with Potter for at least some time but had not actually done anything yet. He quickly pulled out a random book from his bag and pretended to start reading it.

Now physically occupied, Severus turned his thoughts back to his day.

On the way to Potions he’d had to listen to Ronald Weasley and Granger insult him! It had taken all his self-control to not start taking points and assigning detentions then and there. He idly wondered, through his potent anger, if Albus had remembered to remove him from the list of people authorized to award points and resolved to test it as soon as he could.

Frankly, Severus suspected that Chen had been lying in wait for someone, likely him, to say something worth overhearing. Her timing had simply been too good for anything else to be the case.

The lecture had been devastatingly boring, but Severus had expected that. What he had not expected was to be held after class.

Remembering what Chen had said to him made Severus nearly tear the pages of his book in his fury.

Once the classroom was empty, Chen beckoned Severus to the front of the room. He reluctantly stood up, slinging his bag on his shoulder as he went, and made his way to stand in front of her- his- desk.

Chen leaned back in his (his!) chair and steepled her fingers before she said, “I asked you to stay after because I wanted to point something out to you. Did you notice how I refrained from singling you out from the rest of the class? That is how a professional, adult, person handles it when being forced to interact with someone they don’t like.”

“How da-“ Severus tried to say.

“No." Chen's expression brooked no room for argument. "There’s no excuse for singling out an individual student. We both know that’s what you did to Mr. Potter, and other Gryffindors." She paused then, as though to see if he would try to refute it again, then continued, "You’re dismissed, but I look forward to showing you how a professional teaches your subject for as long as I am here.”

There was a moment where Severus nearly drew his wand, but he took a deep breath in and suppressed the impulse. He whirled around and left without another word.

He could not believe she had had the audacity to address him that way. It was one thing coming from McGonagall, a woman who had been his professor, colleague, and almost-friend, and another thing entirely coming from someone he didn’t know.

Honestly, it was like the woman didn’t even know Potter was a celebrity. She clearly didn’t understand that Potter was singled out for adulation that he didn’t deserve in all his other classes. Severus was simply doing his part to level out the kind of attention Potter received for his undeserved celebrity status.

He grimaced at the realization that he would be attending classes with Potter the next day and would have to watch it actually happen. And he was going to have to sit through classes on things he already knew at the same time. He thought longingly of his now empty liquor cabinet in his quarters.

Severus finally actually looked at the book he was holding and saw that it was his copy of the book published every year containing the year’s best advancements in Potions.

This did look interesting, so Severus finally pushed away his still simmering anger and turned to the next paper in the book.

He quickly scanned the author list, something he did with every article he read since different authors had different biases and it was best to keep the author’s bias in the back of his mind while reading, and felt all his anger come raging back at the author’s name.

Christina Chen had written this paper.

He slammed the book shut and shoved it back in his bag.

“You alright there?” Potter asked.

“I’m fine. I just remembered that I wanted to explore the grounds before dinner. We can talk about a healing potion to brew later,” Eli said curtly as he finished packing up his things.

“Oh, okay then,” Potter said, turning back to his books.

Eli hurried out of the castle and around the lake to sit beneath a tree in blessed solitude for the rest of the evening.

After studying in the library for a little while longer, Harry decided to go to the Room of Requirement to practice giving his lesson for the next day.

With a professor sitting in on the lesson, he hardly wanted to make a fool of himself by forgetting where he was going with something or what he meant to say next, and the practice would help him sound more polished.

He wondered, as he climbed one of the many staircases on his way through the castle, when Dumbledore was going to announce the DA meeting like McGonagall had said he would. It was Monday afternoon now, and there still had not been anything mentioned. Which was cutting it pretty close since the meeting was Tuesday evening.

Then Harry remembered Dumbledore’s fashionably late entrance to his hearing at the ministry and realized he’d be lucky if he announced it before the meeting started.

Rolling his eyes, Harry shrugged slightly to himself. He was hardly going to harass Dumbledore over it himself, especially when Ginny and Neville were doing such a good job of spreading the word themselves.

They’d hung up posters around the common room and asked friends in the other houses to do the same. And they’d started a serious word of mouth awareness campaign on top of the posters, so word was quickly spreading through the school.

This time around they were including Slytherins in the club. With Umbridge gone and the club officially sanctioned, there was no need to keep it a secret. And if his excursions into Voldemort’s mind and to the Death Eater meetings had taught Harry anything, it was that Voldemort didn’t care who he recruited.

By deliberately excluding a quarter of the school, they were making it easier for Voldemort to get a foothold in his recruitment efforts. And once Harry had recognized this, he’d had the vague urge to do something about this.

Harry had no idea how to go about actively doing something, but he figured that deliberately including Slytherins in the DA was a good first step. Maybe he ought to try and speak to some of the nicer ones in his year and encourage them to come?

It was definitely something to think about, Harry decided as he approached the portrait of Barnabas the Barmy.

Pacing back and forth, Harry called a room that looked like a replica of how he’d like to set up the Great Hall for the lesson. He strode to the front of the large room and pulled out his notes to start practicing.

After a couple run throughs of the lesson, Harry paused to take a break. As he sat down on a plush armchair that the room helpfully provided, he realized with a start that he was disappointed that the room couldn’t provide snacks because he was hungry.

This was an excellent sign that he was beginning to recover from the near-starvation he experienced at the Dursley’s.

He considered calling Dobby to bring him food to celebrate but decided that he had practiced his lesson enough for the day and could just as easily go down to the kitchens to pick up a snack.

Before he left the room, Harry took the opportunity to call up a mirror. He quickly doffed his shirt and called for another mirror, handheld this time, so he could examine his back. He hadn’t had a chance to get a good look since Eli had lent him that bruise balm, and he wanted to see how effective it had been on the deeper welts on his back.

They had felt healed, but he wanted the confirmation of seeing the healed skin.

And he was gratified, and a little surprised to see that not only had all the welts completely closed over, but none of them had scarred like Harry had been worried they would.

His old scars were still there, of course, but it was nice to know that he didn’t have any new ones.

Examination complete, Harry donned his shirt and robes, and headed down to the kitchens for a snack, in a better mood than he had been in a very long time.

Harry sighed with relief as he finally made his escape from the kitchen. The house elves, and Dobby in particular, had been delighted to see him.

Unfortunately, Dobby had needed to see to some chores and only had time to wrap his bony arms around Harry’s knees before he left again.

When he had asked the other elves for a snack, there had been a moment where Harry had worried that they would hurt themselves or break something in their excitement, but they quickly calmed down enough to put together a list of options.

He’d gratefully asked for a plate of mini chocolate chip muffins and a mug of peppermint tea. Far sooner than he would have imagined, a house elf had returned with the food and tea and another elf had conjured a comfortable chair and table for him to sit at with his food.

It had been fascinating to sit in the kitchen, mostly unharassed but for the occasional offer of more tea and other amenities, and watch the elves go about their business. It was remarkable how efficient they were and how they all seemed to be aware of each other, seamlessly avoiding collisions and accidents as they hurried around the kitchen.

He rarely got the chance to sit somewhere and just exist without worrying about the scrutiny of those around him. While the house elves did idolize him to some extent and were obviously over eager to serve him, they still allowed him to go unnoticed while they went about their tasks. It was the nearest thing to anonymous people-watching Harry could manage without being in the muggle world.

Once he’d finished his snack, Harry had attempted to make his escape. The elves had crowded around his knees once again and offered more food in their squeaky voices. Harry had done his best to turn them down politely, but he definitely saw at least one elf burst into tears as he finally slipped through the door into the hallway.

He was now heading back to the common room. He’d spent more time in the kitchen than he’d thought he would, so he didn’t have enough time to really get anything done in the library and he definitely didn’t have time to go flying. So he figured he’d head back to the tower and use the time to read.

When he stepped into the common room, it was mostly empty. It was an incredibly nice day outside, so most of the students were taking advantage of the weather and spending time outside. One of the few people in the room was Neville, so Harry headed over to the table he was seated at.

“Hey Neville, do you mind if I join you?” Harry asked.

Neville looked up from the parchment he was writing on and said, “Yeah, sure,” he glanced over the completely covered table and started to shift books around, “let me just-”

“Oh don’t worry about clearing space for me, I was just going to do some reading,” Harry interrupted before Neville could get too far.

Neville looked a bit relieved at this. “Sorry, I just figured now would be a good time to spread out since there’s hardly anyone here, I didn’t expect anyone to join me.”

“That’s alright, I really don’t need any space. And I’ll be right back, the book I want to read is up in our dorm,” Harry said and turned to head up to their dorm.

Once there, he set his bag on his bed, retrieved the last book he had been reading, then headed back down the stairs to join Neville in the common room.

After Harry was seated, Neville said, “I’m sorry if I made it sound like I didn’t want you to sit with me, I was just trying to say that I didn’t expect to even see you or anyone else, for that matter.”

“That was a good assumption, except I decided I wanted a snack, and the house elves kept me so long that I didn’t have enough time to get started on any assignments or to go flying, so coming here was the best option I had,” Harry said with a warm smile.

Neville smiled back and they lapsed into a companionable silence for the next while. Both of them were expertly able to ignore the occasional burst of noise from the few Gryffindors present.

When it was time to go down to dinner, Harry stood up and summoned his bag from his dorm, quickly sliding the book he’d been reading into it. Neville had stood up when he had and they headed out together.

“So how’s your book?” Neville asked once they sat down in the Great Hall.

“It’s fascinating,” Harry said excitedly, happy to get a chance to talk about what he was reading, “it’s one of the ones Lupin sent to me this summer. It’s on the merits of different defensive styles and it’s got some really good points that I hadn’t ever thought of. And the next chapter is on a style I’ve never heard of, which I am very excited about.”

“So you’re reading it for the DA, then?” Neville asked.

Harry considered this for a moment as he served himself some food. “Partially, I guess? But I asked Lupin for the recommendations long before I knew we were restarting the DA, because I needed the distraction, and this felt like a productive distraction.” He snagged a roll from a basket of them and passed the basket along. “And now I just really enjoy reading about defensive techniques and spells and stuff,” Harry finished.

“That does sound like a good use of time. Do you have a favorite book then?” Neville said between bites of food.

“Let me think for a moment, I’ve read so many good ones it’s hard to decide,” Harry said thoughtfully.

He considered the many books he’d read since the start of the last summer. Lupin and Moody had both given him so many excellent recommendations it was hard to pick one. Then he remembered one of the first books he’d read and how useful it has been.

“I think my favorite book was A Brief Overview of This Century’s Defense Innovations by Imogen Pant. It does a really good job of conveying the background and uses of, as the title says, this century’s defense innovations. What I really like about it is that she does a good job of including worldwide developments that we haven’t heard much of from any of our defense professors. It’s been a great book for finding other books to read too because she references so many throughout the book,” Harry finally said.

“Oh, that does sound fascinating,” Neville said.

“If you want to borrow it, I have it up in our room,” Harry offered.

Neville’s eyes widened slightly and he said, “I would love to, if you don’t mind?”

“Of course I don’t mind,” Harry said, “I just hope you like it as much as I did.”

“I guess there’s only one way to find out.”

Harry wasn’t sure what to say next, so once again they fell into a comfortable silence as they ate. Harry regretted the muffins he’d had earlier, just a bit, when he started getting full sooner than he usually did.

As they sat together, Harry glanced down the table and saw Ron and Hermione boxed in by the fifth and seventh year Gryffindor prefects. Ron and Hermione looked as though they wanted to be sitting anywhere but there, and when Harry made eye contact with Ron, Ron slid his forefinger across his throat and dramatically mouthed “Kill me” .

Harry smirked and shook his head as Ron reluctantly turned back to the conversation.

Continuing his examination of the table, he saw that Ginny was eating with her yearmates and energetically talking about something. As he watched, she gesticulated with the hand holding her fork, but she must have forgotten that she’d loaded it with food, because her gesture sent a forkful of food flying across the table.

He smiled slightly at her antics and continued looking around. After another couple of moments of this, Harry realized who was missing. Eli had never come back from exploring the grounds.

Just to make sure, Harry scanned the table rapidly once more and looked around at the other tables too. He didn’t see Eli anywhere.

“Hey Neville, I’m probably gonna hang out at the table till Eli shows up. He said he was going to explore the grounds, but we got here really early and I haven’t seen him yet. I’m worried he could be lost out there, and I just want to make sure he comes back in,” Harry said, giving the table yet another examination and failing to see the still slightly unfamiliar blonde head.

“If he’s lost, then he’s probably in the Forbidden Forest,” Neville said worriedly. “The castle is visible from pretty much anywhere else.”

Harry glanced up at the enchanted roof and saw that the sun was still fairly high in the sky. “Maybe he just lost track of time, it is still awfully light out, after all. If he hasn’t shown up by the time dinner’s over, I think I’ll take the map and some food and go look for him.”

“I can hang out with you until dinner’s over, but then I should really get back to that essay Kirke assigned us for Defense.”

“If you don’t have time, please don’t feel obligated to sit here with me. Watching to see if Eli comes back doesn’t require more than one person.”

“I’ll definitely take advantage of the opportunity to procrastinate for a little longer,” Neville said with a laugh.

Harry agreed lightly, “Sounds good to me.”

“So are you done with your essay for Kirke?” Neville asked after a moment.

“I am,” Harry said, trying to keep the smugness from his voice. This was the first year that he had put actual effort into his assignments and he was so far doing an excellent job of avoiding excessive procrastination.

To pass the time, Harry and Neville chatted amiably about their classes and eventually about Harry’s plans for the DA. Gradually, it became clearer and clearer that Eli was not going to turn up for dinner.

With a couple minutes left in the dinner period, Harry started loading food onto a plate for Eli. He’d clearly missed dinner, and Harry figured that he would be hungry by the time he found him. And he didn’t want to unnecessarily subject someone to the lair of house elves that masqueraded as a kitchen.

He bid farewell to Neville and summoned the Marauder’s Map. When it arrived he examined it as we walked, looking for the footsteps labeled “Alfonse Hopkirk”.

He eventually spotted them, stationary, at a distant part of the lake. He cast a nifty spell that encased the plate of food in something like plastic wrap that was leakproof and stashed it in his bag for easy transport.

Ready to go, Harry headed out for the lake and the long walk it would take to get there.

Severus was seated under a tree that looked out over the lake. His long walk and serene surroundings had done little to dim his fury at Chen and Dumbledore. After a moment he mentally added McGonagall and Potter and Voldemort and the world at large to this list, since they were all presently adding to his anger.

He sat in miserable, furious silence for an indeterminable period of time. He was well and truly sick of having to bow to the whims of Dumbledore, and, by extension, Potter himself. He had been forced to give up his job, his quarters, his whole life, and his whole identity at Dumbledore’s behest, merely to get to know a sickening brat.

The quiet voice that insisted that Potter had not been so bad lately was quickly drowned out in a tide of resentment.

Severus glanced down at his- Eli’s- body and the clothing it was wrapped in. He had been denied even the comfort of his own body for the sake of bloody Potter.

And so the flow of his thoughts went. A flood of fury, occasionally flowing around a stepping stone that was the irritating, persistent voice that insisted on singing Potter’s virtues.

He was so wrapped up in his thoughts that he didn’t notice the passage of time, or anything else outside of his own head, for that matter.

So when Potter said, “Hey Eli,” Severus was yanked out of his thoughts, and only long practice at refusing to react to the Marauders kept him from jumping in shock.

Once he recovered from the shock, Severus barely managed to refrain from snapping or doing something worse like drawing his wand.

“Did you know that you missed dinner?” Potter continued, as if nothing was wrong. As if he hadn’t disrupted the one bit of solitude Severus had managed to find since he’d lost everything.

Severus quickly scanned his memories, searching for something to say that would get Potter to go away and leave him alone. Dumbledore be damned.

“I was wondering,” Severus began with a forced casualness, “if you knew what happened with the Triwizard Tournament. We heard an awful lot about it, over in Florida, but there was a… disturbing lack of details.”

Potter froze, his entire demeanor changing from the sickeningly bouncy state he had been in when he had approached Severus to something much stiffer, more fragile.

Severus suppressed a grim grin, pleased he had found a weakness. “You see, the tournament was called the Triwizard Tournament for a reason, was it not? Except, suddenly, there were four competitors, and one of them clearly did not belong. And then, the one that was so clearly out of place did oddly, suspiciously, well against his clearly superior counterparts. And this was all interesting enough but then-”

He paused, maliciously delighting in the way Potter had staggered a step backwards.

“But then the final task happened. Isn’t it odd how your only real competitor just so happened to die? I heard that he died pretty horribly, that you were there when he died.”

Potter made a horrible choked sound, lifting one of his hands to his chest and reaching out with the other, as if to plead for mercy.

“That both of you disappeared for a while and that you reappeared holding his body. That you were the only one there with a motive. That you got the whole prize, when he died. When you killed him.”

Potter’s arms dropped and he staggered back another step. He reached into his bag and pulled out a dinner plate and flung it at Severus, then he turned and sprinted back towards the castle.

Severus revelled in his triumph and return to solitude as he deftly caught the plate. He flipped it over and realized, with a sinking stomach, that it was carefully loaded with food and spelled to be secure.

He looked back up and stared at Potter’s fleeing form. Severus realized, with a mounting sense of horror what, exactly, he had done.

Harry tore across the grounds as fast as his legs would carry him, trying to outrun the accusation Eli had so carelessly, so cruelly, flung at him.

His lungs burned and his heart pounded and his legs throbbed. He relished in the sensations, focused on them, tried to think about them and nothing else. If he kept going and never let up, maybe the thoughts that had already plagued him would, in essence if not literally, fall behind.

For he already blamed himself for Cedric’s death. How could he not? If it were not for Harry, Cedric would never have died. He would have grabbed the Triwizard cup on his own and been respected and admired as a solo Champion. Instead. Instead, he’d taken the cup with Harry and been discarded as though he were a useless nick nack that needed to be thrown out.

And to hear that word of the Tournament and Cedric’s death had spread to the States, that they knew he was involved with his death-

Harry tore his mind away from that train of thought as he darted right past the castle, unable to contemplate going inside and seeing someone. Anyone would be able to tell that something was deeply wrong with him with a single glance and he didn’t want to burden anyone with unnecessary concern.

His thoughts returned to Eli. He wondered how Eli had managed to live with someone he’d thought was a murderer for so long without saying anything. Why he had been so friendly, even after he learned who Harry was. Why he was so willing to spend time with Harry.

Then he thought of the timing of the confrontation. How it had only really been a weekend since Eli had joined them and that they really hadn’t spent all that much time together. Maybe Eli had been using the time to get to know Harry well enough to decide if he agreed with the rumors.

This would explain he’d started so slowly and tentatively, Harry realized. If he still hadn’t been sure what he thought of Harry’s guilt, then he’d probably not want to go in for the kill right away. But as he’d continued, Harry had reacted like someone who was guilty would, probably convincing Eli that he had murdered Cedric to win the Tournament.

And then once Eli was convinced of his guilt, he had known just what to say to cripple Harry.

He could admit that he deserved the scorn and the guilt since he was ultimately responsible for Cedric’s death. But it still hurt that the one person he had hoped would be unaware of his fame and infamy would be the same person to see through to his guilt.

He gradually came to a stop in a field bordering the castle. His muscles were protesting so loudly that he gracelessly fell to his knees, then into a prone position.

For a moment he simply lay there, face pressed into the grassy ground, headless of his present inability to breathe properly. Now unable to run, he turned to hiding to try and escape Eli’s accusations.

And it worked, for a little while. With his face pressed into the earth, his nose was filled with the scent of freshly trimmed grass, and below that, of damp dirt. He could feel the blades of grass digging into his face and his hands.

Eventually, inevitably, he ran out of breath. The limited air he managed to take in with his face buried in the ground was inadequate for his already oxygen-starved lungs. He reluctantly rolled over onto his back.

Harry was now able to see the sky, and he burned at the injustice of its serene beauty. The sun was setting and the sky was painted in soft hues of orange and pink when it felt like it should have been dark and stormy and turbulent.

He gripped the grass that lie underneath his hands as his thoughts now returned, involuntarily, inextricably, to what Eli had said.

Cedric…

Cedric had deserved so much better than to die as an afterthought. “Kill the spare,” Voldemort had said, but really, of the two of them, Cedric was the one with the right to take the Triwizard Cup and he, Harry, was the spare.

It had been Cedric’s name that the goblet had chosen to be the true Hogwarts Champion. It should have been Cedric who was featured prominently in the newspaper articles.

Instead, Harry and his stupid fame had taken that, too, from him.

As Harry dwelled on the injustice that had been Cedric’s final year alive, he remembered more and more of the little things that he’d suppressed the memory of for too long in an attempt to protect himself from the pain of remembering.

He thought of Cedric’s gratitude when Harry had desperately informed him of the dragons. He thought of the moment Cedric had helped him solve the egg for the second task. He thought of how Cedric had tried to stop the school from harassing him, from wearing those stupid badges.

Cedric had deserved better.

This thought echoed through Harry’s mind for a moment. And in the aftermath of that thought, Harry realized that the most painful edge of his guilt at Cedric’s death had lost some of its cut.

Because, Harry realized, Cedric probably wouldn’t blame him at all for his death. He’d be wrong, of course, but even though Cedric couldn’t possibly know for sure that Harry hadn’t cheated his way into the tournament, he’d still been friendlier than the vast majority of the people at Hogwarts.

Harry still felt a deep sense of loss at the thought of Cedric’s death, and still felt that he was responsible for it. But now he realized that Cedric wouldn’t want him to wallow in his guilt.

And thinking back on the way Cedric had helped him with the second task, he realized that Cedric was more the type to value independence, because he hadn’t just told Harry to listen to the egg underwater- he’d given Harry advice that had let him figure out the clue mostly for himself.

But Cedric was gone now, and whatever he would have thought about the circumstances surrounding his death and Harry’s reaction to them faded in the face of the very real accusations of his very much alive housemate.

This felt different from when Seamus had believed the worst of him last year, but Harry wasn’t quite sure why it did. Maybe because he found himself agreeing with Eli’s accusations where he had vehemently refuted Seamus’s. Because he knew better now, because he had realized, when Sirius had died, that without him, both Cedric and Sirius would be alive now.

He groaned and flung his arm over his eyes. His chest still felt tight with grief and he had no idea what to do about Eli. Maybe, if he lay here for long enough, an idea would come to him.

As soon as he realized the gravity of what he’d done, Severus had staggered clumsily to his feet, still unused to his new body. A distant part of his mind noted that standing from the ground was significantly easier than he could remember it being.

Regardless of Potter’s intentions, and Severus still had a hard time believing they were entirely innocent, his actions had been nice enough.

He pulled his feet underneath him properly and ran for the castle. Potter was long since gone which suited Severus just fine. He needed a game plan for how to explain what he’d just done, otherwise Albus would be disappointed in him. And he could not have that. Without the ability to spy, Severus held little value, and there were still countless people who, if Albus withdrew his support, would be more than happy to see Severus into a cell at Azkaban.

And if Dumbledore knew he had not only failed to befriend Potter, but had also flung blatantly untrue and clearly cutting accusations at the boy? Then the chances that he would withdraw his support skyrocketed.

He made it to the castle in record time, slowing only enough to avoid raising Filch’s ire, and made a beeline directly for McGonagall’s office. She would likely give him another earful for being so monumentally stupid, but she would also probably help him figure out how to fix it.

At least Severus had had the presence of mind to not bring up Black’s death. Besides that fact being knowledge that Eli, the American, wouldn’t have, if Cedric’s death was this painful for Potter he could only imagine that Black’s was even more so.

Severus cursed the size of the castle as he quickly ran out of breath on one of the many staircases he had to navigate to get to Minerva’s office.

Potter probably hated him now, and for good reason too. Eli, Severus corrected himself, Potter probably hated Eli now.

Because Severus had already ensured that Potter hated the real him, Severus. And now Severus had to hope that he could find some way to convince Potter not to cast him off completely. He hoped Minerva could think of something he could do to fix this.

He knocked on her office door, hopeful that she was here and not in her quarters already. It seemed he was in luck, because she almost immediately bade him to enter. He burst into her office and bent over to catch enough breath to be capable of speech.

“Mr. Hopkirk?” McGonagall said curiously.

“One moment,” Severus managed. He straightened up once he could breathe again and said, “I really messed up. With Potter, that is, and I have no idea how to fix it.”

Minerva leaned back in her chair and gave him a long look. Then she gestured at the chair in front of her desk and said, “Since this sounds like it’ll take a while to sort out, why don’t you take a seat.”

Severus did as he was told, and winced at the hardness of the seat.

“Now, tell me what precisely you did so I know what I’m working with.”

Severus averted his gaze somewhere to the left of McGonagall. He knew he had to tell her to get help, but he’d never manage to get the words out if he was making eye contact with her. “I was sitting out by the lake after classes and I must have lost track of time because the next thing I knew, Potter was,” Severus paused, trying to find the words to describe what had happened without unnecessarily denigrating Potter as he would instinctively do.

“Potter was standing next to me and I was so deep in my thoughts that the shock of being jolted out of them made me think of-” Severus suddenly remembered, in crystal clarity, his last conversation with Minerva and blushed with shame as he forced out, as quickly as he could, “-the Marauders. So I lashed out. Badly. I flat out said that Potter killed Cedric Diggory.”

For a distressingly long time, McGonagall simply stared at him. He could feel the burn of her gaze despite his desperate attempts to avoid it. He began to frantically think of what he could do on his own if she refused to help him. Maybe she wouldn’t tell Dumbledore if he swore he’d fix it and that would buy him time to actually figure out how to fix it and-

“That, Mr. Hopkirk, is possibly one of the stupidest things you’ve done.” She paused again and Severus nodded in shame into the silence she left.

“This is the only time I will help you like this. Do you understand? If you fuck up this badly again, I will not hesitate to inform Albus,” she leaned forward in her seat and pinned Severus with an icy look. “And you should know, he has been positively giddy with himself for coming up with this plan ever since, well, ever since he first came up with it. So you can imagine his disappointment if it came to an early end thanks to your stupidity.”

Severus nodded again, swearing silently to not let this happen again.

“I require a verbal response,” McGonagall said, with a hard edge to her voice that Severus wasn’t sure he’d ever heard before.

“Yes, ma’am. I understand,” Severus replied, making fleeting eye contact for good measure.

“Thank you. I’d also like to remind you of our last conversation. I can hardly force you to go through your own memories, but I firmly believe that you would not be in this position if you had.”

Severus lifted his arms in a brief shrug. What-might-have-been’s hardly mattered now, and he really hoped she had an idea and was not simply wasting his time with a lecture.

She sighed and said, “Very well. Am I correct when I say that several hours passed between when you hurt Mr. Potter and when you last saw him?”

Severus nodded.

“Then here’s what happened: you were headed out for the lake when you were hit from behind with an unknown spell. You didn’t feel any different, so you brushed the incident off and continued on your path. When Potter spoke to you, you felt as though your mind and body disconnected and that when you said what you did, it was as though you were forced to watch it happen,” Minerva paused and thought for a moment.

“When Potter left, you came to your senses and realized what you’d done, and came to me. You told me about being hit with the spell and performed a diagnostic to try and see what it was. I discovered that it was an old prank spell twisted to be more malicious, it’s intended use was to make the victim comically, but personally, insult the first person the victim came across. Instead, the spell made you lash out at the first person you came across, and in a deeply personal way. Mr. Potter was just unlucky enough to be that person.”

When she finished, Severus’s first thought was that she had really, truly, been spending far too much time around Albus. When he’d gone to her for advice he’d thought- well, he hadn’t been thinking much of anything beyond his panic. But if he’d taken any amount of time to consider what he expected to get from her, he’d have thought it would be coaching on how to apologize or something like that, not this convoluted tale of a prank gone wrong. Although it would probably get the job done better than any apology could manage. And would have the added benefit of maybe making Potter defensive on his behalf.

“How did you even think of that?” Severus eventually managed to ask.

Minerva waved her hand airily, “The spell I mentioned is very real and was all the rage during my own school days- the less malicious version was, at least. It was simple enough to come up with the rest from that.”

Severus raised his eyebrows skeptically before he remembered that he was still in the doghouse.

“Wait,” Severus said, “what should I say if Potter asks what’s being done to find the perpetrator?”

“Oh, tell him I’m doing my best to figure it out, but without any witnesses, it’ll be hard to pin down on anyone.”

“I should probably go and sort everything out with Potter,” Severus said, rising from his seat.

“Yes. You had. And Severus?” Minerva said with that hard edge back in her voice.

He stopped in his tracks, but neglected to turn back around.

“Remember what I said. Harry is not James, and if you ever do something like this again, forget Albus’s wrath, you will answer to me.”

Severus quickly shook off McGonagall’s warning as he exited her office. He had other things to worry about and this wasn’t exactly the first time she’d threatened him recently, so it didn’t have the same novelty as before.

Thanks to McGonagall, he knew what he needed to say to Potter, but he had no idea how to go about it. Forget what to say to Potter, he didn’t even know where the boy was.

Severus had barely made it out of the hallway McGonagall’s office was in when he stopped walking. He had realized that he had no idea where he was going. After considering this question, Severus reasoned to himself that Potter was probably in the common room being comforted by his little friends.

And if he wasn’t, his friends would probably have a good idea of where to find him. Severus directed his path to the Gryffindor common room and picked up his pace. The sooner he fed Potter the ridiculous story, the better, because the longer Potter sulked the harder it’d be to pull him out of it.

He made it to the tower quickly and gave the Fat Lady the password. Stepping into the common room, he surveyed the students scattered around, looking for Potter. He was quickly able to discern that Potter was not present. He should have known Potter wouldn’t have made this easy on him.

Severus scanned the room again, this time looking for Granger or a Weasley.

His gaze landed on Granger and the youngest Weasley boy and he headed over to where they were shamelessly sharing a single armchair and giggling at each other. Disgusting.

“Have y’all seen Potter?” Severus asked, startled when that stupid accent spell warped the actual words he meant to say. He was mostly used to hearing the accent when he spoke, but it was always more shocking when the words or phrases he meant to say were completely distorted into something new. He shook it off and focused on Granger’s response.

“Not lately, but he’ll probably show up soon.”

That was useless.

Then Weasley said, “Oh wait, I think Neville said something about Harry going to look for you and to bring you some food because you never showed up to dinner. They were worried you’d gotten lost or something, but Harry must’ve missed you.”

Severus was discomfited to feel a pang of guilt at the confirmation that not only had Potter tried to do something nice for him, he’d also had good intentions for doing so. He realized that he should probably say something about what had happened by the lake since they’d find out eventually and probably not be pleased if they found out without any indication from him.

He decided on, “We didn’t quite miss each other. Earlier, when I was heading out to the lake, I was hit by a spell from behind. It didn’t do anything when it hit, so I figured whoever cast it messed up and the spell failed or something, and I just kept going with my walk. But then when Potter showed up, I…”

He paused for a moment, unable to remember the exact lie he was supposed to tell and unwilling to complicate the situation by getting it wrong. Then he remembered that this was the part of the lie that most closely resembled the truth and continued, “I lost control and said some horrible things to him. He ran off and once I realized what had happened, he was gone, so I ran to McGonagall to tell her what happened. She told me that it was probably a prank spell gone wrong and that the effect should be worn off by now.”

“You mean you were attacked in the hallways, and you just shook it off and continued on your walk?” Granger said shock evident in her tone, “What the hell kind of school did you go to?”

“Forget that, Hermione, I want to know who attacked Eli and why and then I want to let them know that we don’t let Gryffindors get attacked like that,” Weasley butted in.

“Look,” Severus interjected when Granger looked like she was gearing up to go off on a rant, “can we talk about this later? I really need to find Potter.”

Weasley and Granger made eye contact for a brief moment and Weasley climbed out of Granger’s lap to his feet, quickly followed by Granger standing as well. “We’re going with you, then,” Granger said decisively.

“Wait let me go see if the map is in our room,” Weasley said and rushed towards their dormitory, quickly disappearing from view.

The map- Weasley must mean the Marauder’s Map. For a moment, Severus felt a brief rush of panic at the thought that he might be about to be discovered. But then Severus came to his senses and realized that he could be reasonably confident that Albus knew about the map and would have planned accordingly. God forbid Albus’s entertainment be cut short.

To that end, Albus had cast several enchantments on him in preparation, and one of them had been the spell to fix his accent. It stood to reason that one of the spells Albus had cast was something to fool the Map and other similar artefacts into believing that he was Alfonse “Eli” Hopkirk in truth.

He stood awkwardly next to Granger while they waited for Weasley to return. After another moment, Severus realized that he should have no idea what Weasley was getting, so he said, “Wait, what map is Ron getting?”

Granger glanced sideways at him, not turning away from the staircase Weasley had disappeared up and said, “Harry has a map of the school that also shows the locations of the people in the castle.”

Severus paused for a moment, “Isn’t that… I don’t know… kind of invasive?”

She shrugged, “It’s not like it gets any more specific than physical location.”

Weasley chose that moment to reappear, conspicuously empty handed. “I think Harry must have it with him. So we’ll have to do this the old fashioned way.”

“This castle is absolutely enormous, how do you plan to actually find him?” Severus asked dubiously. He could think of a couple methods, but none of them were appropriate for the situation.

Hermione said reasonably, “Well, Ron and I know Harry pretty well, so we can use the process of elimination to figure out where he’s not and then check the remaining places that he could be.”

“Can we at least head out and walk around while we talk about it? We’ll cover more ground that way,” Severus suggested, unwilling to stand around and do nothing while Potter was sinking further and further into hatred of Eli, and still slightly annoyed that he was now saddled with the two of them. They hadn’t been at all useful yet.

“Yeah alright, let me tell Neville to message us if Harry comes back and then we can head out,” Hermione said walking over to where Longbottom was seated at a table covered in parchment.

They exchanged a few words before Granger looked back over to where Severus and Weasley were still standing and beckoned them over to join her as she headed out of the dorm.

Severus vaguely resented being ordered about like that, but it was hardly worth fighting over, so he followed Weasley and Granger out of the common room.

Severus was trailing just behind Weasley and Granger as they aimlessly walked through the castle, discussing where Potter could have gone. He clearly had nothing to contribute to their discussion so he tuned them out and focused on his surroundings.

Were it not for the urgency with which Severus felt the need to find Potter, he thought he would have enjoyed this walk much more than he was. The halls were calm and peaceful. There were no younger years’ about anymore since it was past their curfew and because it was still a comfortable temperature outside, the overall environment was quite pleasant.

Hogwarts had many virtues, but one of its flaws was the draftiness of the hallways that made strolling through them unpleasant in the winter.

Weasley came to an abrupt halt, nearly causing Severus to collide with him and jolting Severus out of his reverie. So much for a nearly pleasant walk.

“We’re being so dumb,” Weasley said, which was a bit rich coming from him. Then he exclaimed to the empty corridor, “Dobby! Harry needs you!”

Severus was startled by the immediate appearance of a house elf. It took a moment, but the name and appearance of the elf finally connected in his memory. This was the house elf that Potter had freed from the Malfoy’s about four years ago.

“Hey Dobby, can you help us find Harry? We’re worried about him-” Weasley started before the elf interrupted him.

“Dobby can take Harry Potter's friends to Harry Potter,” he said and held out his thin arms.

Severus resented being referred to as Potter’s friend, especially when Eli wasn’t even in Potter’s good books. But he was quite glad that the problem of finding Potter had turned out to be so easy to solve. And he reluctantly acknowledged that Weasley and Granger had turned out to be quite helpful. Not that he ever intended to say anything of the sort to them.

He reluctantly gripped one of the elf’s bony hands as Granger and Weasley gripped the other hand and arm. As soon as they all had a good grip, Dobby apparated them away, hopefully to where Potter was.

Harry wasn’t sure how long he’d been laying in the field; the sun was setting now so he had probably been out for at least an hour or two. I should probably head back inside soon, Harry thought, but he wasn’t any closer to figuring out what to do about Eli than he had been before, and he was reluctant to face him before he figured it out.

Currently his only real thought was that he could possibly ask McGonagall if he could sleep somewhere else. This would at least solve the problem of not making Eli sleep with someone he knew was a murderer.

Really, he should have done that ages ago, but he supposed that nobody had ever actually said that he was a murderer to his face. Seamus had called him a liar plenty of times, but he’d never gone so far as to actually blame Cedric’s death on Harry.

And prior to this year, he hadn’t yet realized that he was responsible for all the deaths around him. The only death he could remember personally witnessing was Cedric’s and he’d been able to live in blissful ignorance of the pattern that was now clear. His parents, Cedric, Sirius, had all died because of him and the horror of seeing Sirius die in front of him had really driven this point home.

If it weren’t for him, his parents wouldn’t have been affected by the prophecy, and they would never had had to go into hiding. Voldemort would never have hunted them down, and they wouldn’t have died. The Triwizard Tournament was only turned into a trap because Voldemort wanted him, so if he hadn’t been there, Cedric would never have been in danger. And Sirius would never have gone to the Ministry if Harry hadn’t been too stupid to realize that the vision had been a trap.

Harry painfully withdrew his thoughts from the dark path they had gone down and tried to refocus on the problem at hand.

It would be wrong of him to not even try and minimize his contact with the one person who could see the truth about him. He needed to go and talk to Professor McGonagall about the possibility of living elsewhere and to see what else she thought would be best. He could only, selfishly, hope that she wouldn’t come to her senses and minimize her own contact with him.

He wished he had a better plan in mind, and one that didn’t risk losing the confidence of one of the few adults he still respected, but it was starting to get dark out, and he really ought to avoid being out after curfew.

Harry had just resolved to go inside when he was startled by the loud pop of apparation. He jumped to his feet and drew his wand, wary of being caught unawares.

Ron, Hermione, and Eli all crashed to the ground in front of him and Harry took a step back from them, shocked that Eli would want to be anywhere near him now, and curious as to what Ron and Hermione had to do with anything. He slid his wand back up his sleeve.

“Dobby has delivered Harry Potter’s friends to Harry Potter! Dobby has to get back to work now, but Dobby hopes Harry Potter is okay,” he exclaimed as he darted in for a quick hug around Harry’s knees before promptly popping away.

Harry had to stop himself from choking up at the brief hug and quickly refocused his attention on the friends that Dobby had delivered.

Hermione and Ron were brushing each other off by hand while Eli performed a similar action himself. Harry had no idea what they were doing here, so he stood there, waiting for someone to say something. When he made accidental eye contact with Eli, Harry focused his gaze on the ground, unwilling to risk it happening again.

“Eli, mate, I think you know what’s going on better than any of us, so why don’t you explain things,” Ron said after they’d stood around without anyone saying anything.

Harry glanced up at Eli and saw that he was shuffling his feet, then quickly looked back down.

“I uh, I went to talk to Professor McGonagall,” Eli said, causing Harry’s heart to stop with anxiety. Harry had thought he’d have a chance to talk to her himself and maybe keep her on his side a little. He quickly forced himself to refocus on what Eli was saying.

“After I said those terrible things to you,” Eli continued, shocking Harry once again.

“She thinks that I was hit with some kind of prank spell made malicious- she said she recognized the effects from her own school days and she’s trying to look for the culprit, but I was hit with the spell on my way out to the lake, and I didn’t see anyone and it has no immediate effects, so it’s not looking likely that she’ll figure out who did it.”

Harry stood in silence while he processed this. Then he said, “So, you didn’t mean what you said? You don’t think that- think that those things you said are true?”

“No, no, I didn’t even know what I was saying at the time!” Eli said fervently, and Harry finally lifted his gaze from the ground to see the tail end of an emphatic head shake.

“Wait,” Ron said, looking from Harry to Eli and back again, “what did Eli say?”

Harry’s gaze dropped back to the ground and he crossed his arms over his chest in a mockery of a hug, unwilling to repeat the words himself.

He was startled by Hermione colliding with him, pulling him into her warm embrace, and it was everything he could do to not burst into tears. He belatedly slid his arms out from around himself and put them around Hermione. He buried his head into the crook of her neck and basked in the warmth of her hug, feeling as though the pieces of him that had fallen apart when Eli had called him that were being gently nudged back together into one piece.

A moment later, he felt Ron come up behind him to hug him too. And then he really did start to cry as he was encased in a sandwich of love from his friends.

They stood there simultaneously for what was both an eternity and nowhere near enough time before Ron and Hermione pulled away, although Hermione retained her grip on his hand. Harry had thankfully stopped crying by this point and he swiped at his eyes with his free hand to remove the evidence.

“Eli,” Ron said, more firmly this time, “what did you say to Harry.”

“Ron, he didn’t have a choice,” Hermione reminded Ron before Eli could say anything.

“Yes, please do remember that,” Eli said with a nervous undertone.

Ron didn’t respond to this audibly.

“I, well, I basically interrogated Harry about his involvement in the Triwizard Tournament, but I didn’t let him get a word in edgewise and then,” Eli stopped here and Harry glanced up at him when he failed to continue, only to make brief eye contact that Harry immediately broke once again.

“And then?” prompted Hermione.

“And then I called Harry a murderer,” Eli said in a heavy voice.

Harry flinched back as soon as he said this and Hermione tugged gently on the hand she was still holding to pull him into another hug. Harry took advantage of the opportunity to bury his face in her neck again and simply hide from the world.

When Hermione said, “That must’ve been one hell of a prank spell gone wrong,” Harry barely processed what she said and instead focused on how her words vibrated against him as she talked.

It reminded him of the times when he was a child and particularly cold, or lonely, and he would wait till the clothes drier was all warmed up and lean against it as it tumbled the clothes. He would close his eyes and if he tried hard enough to pretend he could believe for a moment that he was being hugged.

He shook the memory off and focused on the present and the very real, very warm embrace Hermione was giving him.

Eventually Hermione broke the hug again and Harry reluctantly refocused on what was happening around him.

“Harry?” Eli asked, sounding like it wasn’t the first time he’d tried to get Harry’s attention.

“Yeah?” Harry replied, resisting the urge to wrap his arms around himself again.

“I really really didn’t mean those things I said,” Eli said seriously.

Harry nodded, not sure what to say to this.

“Can you forgive me?” Eli asked tentatively.

Harry looked up, startled. He took a moment to process that Eli seemed to genuinely want his forgiveness. “Yeah, of course I can, I just,” Harry stopped himself and looked away, embarrassed.

“You just?” Hermione encouraged gently, sliding her hand back into his.

“I just didn’t think he’d want my forgiveness,” Harry mumbled, still not looking at anyone.

“Oh Harry,” Hermione said and squeezed his hand.

He finally looked up again and saw that Eli had a bewildered expression on his face.

“Why on Earth would I not want your forgiveness?” Eli asked, sounding as confused as he looked.

Harry shrugged. “It’s just, most people don’t bother to apologize when they hurt me. And well, you were right about what you said,” he stopped himself before he could continue, unwilling to make himself sound more pathetic than he was sure he already did.

“Harry James Potter,” Hermione said in shock and Harry winced. He’d forgotten the Hermione factor. “You listen here-”

“It’s dark and late,” Ron interrupted, “why don’t we move this inside.”

Hermione tugged on Harry’s hand as she stalked off towards the castle. “This isn’t over, just so you know.”

And Harry smiled, glad to have his friends back.

The next morning Severus woke up early and slipped out of the dorm as quickly and quietly as he could.

The walk back to the common room had been oddly reminiscent of staff meetings in that he spent the entire time tuning out other people singing Potter’s praises. They must have resolved Potter’s issues at some point during the walk, because by the time they got back to the common room, thus prompting Severus to tune the conversation back in, they were talking about some assignment they’d had for Defense.

He’d planned to go and hide in their dorm room, but he’d felt vaguely pressured into spending time with Weasley, Potter, and Granger when he’d tried to leave. This was a far cry from when he’d felt like the only reason people spent time with him was out of obligation, but when the people in question were brainless children, the honor of the occasion was called into question.

He couldn’t quite believe that Potter had truly believed the that Severus thought he was a murderer. He must have pretended to believe it to use it as an attention seeking opportunity.

Severus more interested in the way Potter had seemed unwilling to expand upon what he’d said about people not apologizing to him. He was torn between his instinctual belief that this was because Potter had a habit of expecting apologies for absurd offenses and the quiet voice that insisted that this was unlikely.

The fact that Potter truly had seemed shocked when Severus had asked for forgiveness had only given power to that quiet voice. And even more shockingly, he had given Severus the forgiveness he had asked for.

And he hadn’t asked for any kind of penance to give it either.

Of course, Potter had believed that he’d been cursed into saying what he did. Regardless of what was going in Potter's mind, he still wasn’t sure how exactly the massive lapse of judgement that led to Severus calling Potter a murderer had occurred. And it hadn’t even been the only lapse of judgement, just the most serious and most recent one.

So now, Severus was heading to the library. This was no longer a couple isolated instances of poor impulse control, but a pattern of them, and Severus was determined to figure out what was wrong with him.

The pattern had started after he’d taken the deaging potion, so it stood to reason that the potion had something to do with the effects he was experiencing now. With this thought in mind, Severus made a beeline for the potions section once he got to the library.

He was glad that he was up early enough that there was practically no one in the library, because the new student whose appearance coincided conveniently with ‘Professor Snape’s’ disappearance researching deaging potions in the potions section would be horribly suspicious.

Thanks to his familiarity garnered over years of referencing this particular section of the library, Severus was able to quickly isolate a couple books that would possibly shed some light on the situation.

He settled in to read behind the privacy of an obscuring field. And nearly tossed the first book he read at the wall in his frustration. It was a book on the basics to know when deaging yourself, and one of the biggest things it stressed was understanding the differences in physiology between your current age and your target age. And Dumbledore had never considered that this was research that needed to be done before Severus deaged himself.

He was caught on a particular passage that said, “As we age we inevitably forget how it felt to be younger, and that while this was typically applied to the difference in emotional states, it also heavily applies to the differences in body and brain development”.

Severus skimmed the rest of the introductory chapter and the table of contents to confirm that this was the extent of the books usefulness. The books he had initially obtained had all focused on different academic fields of interest in deaging, and not on the actual experience of deaging.

He could not believe Dumbledore had allowed him to deage without researching the important minutiae involved. He could have done it himself, but really this whole thing had been Dumbledore’s idea so he should have done a better job preparing for it. At the very least, if he had been told to research deaging prior to doing it, he would have done it. Begrudgingly, yes, but he would have done it!

He snapped himself out of his anger and got up to search the library for books on human development.

The next book he found explained his problem, “Teenagers have underdeveloped frontal lobes, leading to poor decision making, impulsivity, and generally reckless behavior”. And because the potion he’d taken completely reverted his body to sixteen years old, he currently had an underdeveloped frontal lobe.

Severus then checked the time and saw that he was cutting it close to the end of breakfast. He hurriedly cast a spell to return all the books he’d pulled off the shelves back to where they belonged and rushed out of the library to the Great Hall.

He also now realized, thanks to his reading, that with a teenage boy’s metabolism, he was going to need to eat more than he had as an adult man. And while he did know why he was behaving so stupidly lately, he had no idea how to fix it. An underdeveloped brain was not exactly something that could be solved with Occlumency or a potion.

When he got to the Gryffindor table, he saw that the table was nearly deserted because he’d cut it so close to the end of breakfast. He ate as quickly as he could because he had Transfiguration first thing, and given how his last two interactions with McGonagall had gone, he had absolutely no desire to draw her wrath again.

Once he was done eating, he headed out to McGonagall’s classroom. He was only slightly slower than he had been the night before when he was seeking her advice.

He arrived outside her classroom to find a crowd of Gryffindors and Ravenclaws clustered in groups outside her door. Severus knew that he ought to join the tight cluster of students that Potter was at the center of, but he was rather distracted by his nerves regarding this coming class.

“There you are, Eli,” Weasley said entirely too loudly, beckoning enthusiastically.

Severus reluctantly tore his thoughts from the anxious spiral his brain had been gearing up to go down and made his way over to the group. He should have known they wouldn’t let him stand on his own, especially since no progress had been made on finding his ‘attacker’.

“Good morning,” Severus greeted them.

“Where’d you go this morning? You were gone before we even got up and then you never turned up for breakfast,” Weasley asked.

Severus was a little irritated that his movements were being scrutinized, but he supposed he had said he’d been attacked yesterday, so they were at least a bit justified to ask him that. He responded, “I spent most of the morning in the library doing some reading and then I just grabbed a quick bite before rushing here.”

Potter nudged Weasley with his elbow, “See, I told you we have another Hermione in our midst.” To Severus, he said, “Hermione tends to run off to the library without warning or explanation.”

Hermione smiled and rolled her eyes at this.

Then McGonagall finally showed up, saving Severus from having to figure out how to respond to this. He followed the pack of Gryffindors into the classroom and looked around curiously. He hadn’t been in her classroom in years, possibly since his own days as a student since he had little reason to go into her classroom as a professor.

Not much had changed about the classroom. A few of the diagrams depicting transfiguration concepts looked as though they were too new to have been there when Severus was a student, but he didn’t remember precisely what had been on the walls to say for sure.

He quietly took a desk behind Potter and Weasley, vaguely hoping that they would distract from his presence with Potter’s fame and their incompetence, allowing Severus to make it out of the lecture unscathed.

What followed was quite possibly the worst Transfiguration lecture Severus had ever attended.

It started with McGonagall taking roll call and the surprised looks the students exchanged at this immediately set Severus on edge.

When she got to just before Eli’s name, she paused. Then she said, “Eli Hopkins.” McGonagall looked up from the sheet she was marking the attendance on to make sharp eye contact with Severus, and finished, “Our… new student.”

She moved on to the next name, but Severus had a vivid flashback to Potter’s first potions class. He instinctively knew she was referencing that interaction, but he had no idea how she would have known what had happened, or why she was only now acting on the information.

McGonagall kept singling him out for demonstrations or to answer questions, to the exclusion of everyone else in the class. He could hardly remember all the specifics she was asking him for since it had been over 20 years since he’d taken this class, and he could feel himself withdrawing throughout the class. He could still feel some lingering disappointment from his school days spent as a teacher’s pet. Then there was the public shame of the experience and the way he could tell that McGonagall genuinely meant to target him that were together incredibly impactful.

By the time class was coming to a close, she was drawing dirty looks from the other Gryffindors and confused ones from the Ravenclaws. And if Severus had been in the state of mind he’d been in before McGonagall had harassed him for an entire class period, he would have been better able to enjoy having peers be defensive on his behalf.

Finally class ended, and McGonagall interrupted him while he was halfway to his feet and asked him to stay after. He sank back heavily into his seat. With the class he’d just sat through, he really should have expected this, but he’d fooled himself into thinking he could make a quick escape.

“Tough luck, mate,” Weasley said and had the audacity to pat him on the back on his way out.

He was still reeling from this when Potter said, “I’ll wait for you in the hall.”

Once everyone was gone, McGonagall called him to the front of the room. Severus reluctantly got to his feet and came to a stop in front of her desk.

“I take it you didn’t like how class today went?” McGonagall said smugly.

All of Severus’s shame and discomfort became anger with a thunderous roar. “No,” he ground out, looking anywhere but at McGonagall.

“Did you not like how I singled you out and asked you difficult questions considering your circumstances? Was that uncomfortable for you?” she continued.

Severus’s bad feeling from after the roll call returned, but he still had no idea how she would know to do this.

“When Albus decided to take such drastic measures to mend the rift between you and Mr. Potter, I decided to do my own research into what precisely caused it. I didn’t get a chance to get very far into my research because of time constraints, but I did find a portrait to describe your first class together. And I decided to perform my own social experiment of sorts. You could also call it karma, if you like,” McGonagall said, then paused for a long moment.

Severus kept his silence, unwilling to respond to this, sure that if he opened his mouth, he’d say something to truly get him in trouble.

“Besides, based on how the rest of my Gryffindors reacted, you now have several people willing to defend you. It should make bonding with them, and especially Mr. Potter, significantly easier.”

Severus finally looked at her and could only stare in shock at her completely serious expression. He stared at her for longer than was polite before he finally managed to say, “Professor- how much time have you been spending around Dumbledore?”

McGonagall frowned at him and said, “What does that have to do with anything?”

Severus was truly concerned for her sanity if she couldn’t see it, and thankfully for her, she continued, “Oh no, he’s rubbing off on me, isn’t he?”

Severus nodded mutely in response.

McGonagall leaned back and seemed to think about this. “Well,” she said eventually, “I stand by my actions today, but in the future I will return to my normal teaching style. And, I think I will discuss a vacation with Florence.”

“Please do. May I go now?” Severus asked, desperate to get away from this version of McGonagall.

“Yes, yes you’re dismissed,” McGonagall said, still sounding absentminded.

Severus gratefully made his escape from the classroom.

Harry was still a little in shock over how transfiguration had gone. He had never seen McGonagall do anything like that and he was unwillingly reminded of Snape’s potions class, but with McGonagall taking the role of Snape and Eli the role of Harry.

All the Gryffindors had decided to stay back to wait for Eli to be released by McGonagall and Harry was listening to them speculate over what had happened.

Seamus had suggested ominously that Snape had gotten rid of the real McGonagall somehow and was now taking her place to hide the evidence. “I’m just saying,” Seamus insisted, “that McGonagall wasn’t there when Snape announced he was leaving, and after that is when she started acting differently!”

Hermione scoffed at this.

“Wait a second Hermione, he might be onto something,” Ron said excitedly. “Remember when Eli was telling us what happened yesterday? He was hit by an unknown spell, then he went to go see McGonagall. She keeps coming up!”

“Oh my god, he went to see her because she’s the professor he’s had the most contact with. I don’t know why she was so...odd today, but I’m sure there’s a perfectly reasonable explanation,” Hermione said, clearly exasperated.

“It just doesn’t make sense for McGonagall to single out one of her own students like that! Something must have happened to her, and with Snape’s mysterious disappearance, he’s clearly a prime suspect,” Seamus said.

“Especially since McGonagall treated Eli like Snape usually treats Harry, it would make so much sense if McGonagall was really Snape in disguise,” Dean added thoughtfully.

“If McGonagall were really Snape in disguise, why didn’t he go after Harry like he usually does? Harry was right there, but was practically ignored for the whole lesson like the rest of us were. What reason would Snape have to target Eli over Harry?” Hermione said reasonably, but with an edge to her voice that Harry knew meant she was getting annoyed.

Seamus said, “Because he clearly doesn’t want us to know it’s him! Targeting Harry would be wildly out of character for McGonagall, but Eli is new so Snape probably figured it was safe to go after him instead. Plus Eli is still a Gryffindor and Snape may hate Harry the most but he does hate all Gryffindors at least a bit and would probably take any excuse he could get to harass one.”

Honestly, Harry had no idea what was up with McGonagall. She had definitely been behaving strangely, but he had a hard time believing that Dumbledore would let Snape get away with pretending to be someone else like that.

Then Eli finally stepped out of the classroom.

Harry was glad that he appeared to be in one piece and not unduly distressed. The lesson itself had been distressing enough, but then she’d had to hold Eli back on top of that.

“What happened, Eli?” Seamus leapt in to ask, just a bit too excited, given the circumstances.

Eli took a half step back away from Seamus, towards the now closed door, “Nothing much, she’d had a bad day or something, and she just wanted to apologize and say it wouldn’t happen again.”

“See?” Hermione said smugly, “there was a perfectly reasonable explanation.”

“Until I see McGonagall and Snape in the same room at the same time, I have no choice but to believe that Snape took McGonagall out and is now masquerading as her,” Ron said firmly, crossing his arms for emphasis.

Seamus crossed his arms too and said, “Yes, exactly.”

Eli paused for a moment then said, “What.”

“We’ve got to get going or we’ll be late for Herbology,” Hermione said, grabbing Eli’s hand and tugging him down the hallways, “I’ll explain on the way.”

Harry quickly followed them, rolling his eyes at Ron as they went.

Hermione summarized Ron and Seamus’s theory on what happened to McGonagall. Her tone had left little doubt about her personal stance on the theories, and Ron and Seamus had taken great delight in correcting her for the most minor of errors. Harry had simply enjoyed watching the look on Eli’s face grow more incredulous as they drew nearer to the greenhouses.

The rest of the day passed simultaneously too slowly and entirely too quickly for Harry. He had been so distracted by other things like McGonagall and class and Ron and Seamus’s theories that he’d forgotten to be nervous about the upcoming DA meeting. Until all of a sudden, it hit him in the middle of lunch.

He was hardly able to pay attention to Charms thanks to his anxiety, and when the class finally ended, he was one of the first people out the door. Ron and Hermione were close on his heels out the door, and once they were in the hallways, Hermione said, “Are you okay, Harry?”

“I’m fine,” Harry said absently. Then he processed who’d asked and continued, “I’m just nervous about the DA meeting.”

“You’ve got this, mate, you did so well all last year, this is just the same thing with a slightly bigger audience,” Ron said reassuringly, leaning against the wall next to the Charms classroom door.

Harry realized that they hadn’t been there for the meeting with McGonagall.

“You guys know that McGonagall is going to be overseeing the lesson, right?” Harry said.

Eli exited the classroom at a sedate pace and paused beside them.

“Hey y’all I’m off to the library to get some work done, so I’ll see ya at dinner,” Eli said before hurrying off towards the library.

Harry said, “See you,” to Eli’s back before he refocused on Hermione and Ron.

“Since when?” Hermione asked with a frown, “we never needed supervision before.”

“Before we were running the club illegally and without approval, but, you know, this time we wanted to do everything above board. To make sure as many people as possible would come. And getting the club officially sanctioned is the best way to do that. So, would you mind helping me prepare for the meeting? I want to make sure I know what I’m gonna say…” Harry trailed off hopefully.

It’d be a lot easier to be confident about his preparedness with feedback, and he knew he could trust Ron and Hermione to be honest with him. At least, he could when they weren’t too distracted by each other to notice anything else.

“Yeah, of course! We’d be happy to. Where did you want to practice?” she asked.

Harry set off towards the Room or Requirement, knowing Ron and Hermione would follow him. “I’ve been using the Room of Requirement for practicing,” he said, just to clarify where they were going.

They chatted about nothing in particular as they made their way through the castle.

When dinnertime came around, Harry was feeling much more confident about his ability to give the lesson. Oh, he was still reasonably sure that he would be replaced after this lesson, but he didn’t think he’d horribly embarrass himself anymore.

That is, as long as McGonagall didn’t do something disruptive or out of character. It felt odd to worry about that, but after the class they’d had earlier, he didn’t think his worries were unfounded.

“You know,” Harry said to Ron and Hermione as they walked to dinner, “McGonagall said she was going to ask Dumbledore to make an announcement about the meeting, but he obviously hasn’t yet. I bet he’ll make one tomorrow morning at breakfast, about 12 hours too late.”

“That’s awfully optimistic of you, mate. My money’s on Thursday after dinner. He’ll get the first letter of the day right but nothing else,” Ron said.

“What do you think, Hermione?” Harry asked when it seemed like she wasn’t going to weigh in.

“I’m thinking about it, give me a second,” she said with a light slap to Harry’s arm. A couple moments later in which she dramatically muttered to herself and counted on her fingers, she said, “Okay, I think he’s going to announce it on a Tuesday three months from now, totally unaware that he got the date wrong.”

Harry snorted.

“I guess we’ll just have to wait and see,” Ron said sadly, “it’ll take ever so long to see who’s right. Especially if it’s Hermione.”

When they got to the Great Hall, Harry saw that Dumbledore was seated at the head table. He nudged Ron and discreetly pointed this out.

“He’s not gonna do it,” Ron said quietly, looking at Dumbledore out of the corner of his eye.

“It’s just a coincidence,” Hermione agreed.

They were joined by Eli not long after they settled in their seats. He was a welcome distraction from the mystery of Dumbledore, since Ron was determined to interrogate Eli to get more information that could possibly corroborate his McGonagall/Snape conspiracy theories.

But then Harry’s thoughts turned to what had happened last night, urged in that direction by Eli’s presence.

Harry tuned out the sound of Ron calling Seamus over for further theorization. He was glad they were having fun with this, but he was feeling too anxious to join in.

He was forced to admit that he was grateful that Eli hadn’t meant to say what he did. Even though what Eli had said was true, he thought that he had been making things up- Or something. Harry wasn’t entirely sure how the spell Eli had been hit with worked. And it might be selfish of Harry, but he was glad that he didn’t have to worry about there being someone who knew the truth.

Then he felt guilty because he was benefiting from Eli, and from everyone else for that matter, not knowing and not acknowledging that Harry was what Eli had said he was. Harry was horribly afraid of the moment that everyone discovered that he had been hiding the truth.

He was happy to be startled out of his thoughts by Dumbledore rising from his seat.

Ron dug his elbow into Harry’s side and Harry reflexively retaliated.

“Look-” Ron stage-whispered.

“I can see that,” Harry responded.

“If I could have everyone’s attention,” Dumbledore said with a pause to wait for silence, “I have been asked to announce that there will be a new club meeting today after dinner. That is all.”

He returned to his seat with a flourish.

In the lingering silence after this, the hall could clearly hear Professor McGonagall say, “Albus, you didn’t say what the club actually is.”

Harry groaned quietly and planted his face onto the table. Ron patted his shoulder. Harry reluctantly sat back up to see what he would say next.

Dumbledore got to his feet again and said, “As I was just reminded, the club is called the Defense Association, and its purpose is for students- that’s all of you- to learn how to defend yourselves.” He turned to where McGonagall was seated and said, “Is that good, Professor McGonagall?”

She nodded tightly.

“Then that is all, for real this time,” Dumbledore said with a smile, then resumed his seat.

“Well,” Hermione said, “all of us were wrong.”

“What were you wrong about?” Eli asked curiously.

Harry’s leg started bouncing under the table. He was getting very nervous again about giving the lesson after dinner. He knew the conversation was continuing around him, but he couldn’t bring himself to focus on them.

He just kept thinking about how badly the night could go. If nobody showed up, he would have to sit and watch the Great Hall empty of people until he was sitting with just Ginny, Neville, Ron, Hermione, and maybe Eli. Oh, and McGonagall. All staring at him because he was supposed to be the leader of the club and it was therefore his fault if it failed.

Or, even worse, if people stayed behind for the meeting, but got up and left as soon as Harry started the meeting. Because Dumbledore hadn’t mentioned that he’d be leading it, and if they hadn’t seen the posters or heard the talk, then they wouldn’t know. And then if enough people left, it would start a flood until Harry was left standing at the front of the hall by himself, faced with the disappointment of his friends.

Or maybe Harry would manage to actually get the meeting started, but someone would interrupt and talk about how wrong Harry was getting everything and then everyone would leave because Harry didn’t know enough to be worth sticking around for.

“Harry! Earth to Harry!” Hermione said loudly.

Harry jumped slightly then focused on Hermione and said, “Sorry, what?”

“The tables were cleared and I thought you’d want to know about that.”

Harry was startled to realize that she was right, so he thanked her for informing him and stood from his seat. He needed to speak with McGonagall.

“Once the Great Hall has cleared of everyone who’s leaving, would you mind waiting a couple more minutes then getting rid of the tables?” Harry asked McGonagall as he drew level with her seat at the Head Table.

“Of course,” McGonagall said, “I look forward to seeing what you do with this,” she added, with a kind smile.

Harry returned her smile nervously. He didn’t think his nerves could take further confrontation, so he said hurriedly, “Oh, it’s not that great, don’t get your hopes up too high. I have to go to conjure a lot of beach balls, if you’ll excuse me.” Then he hurried away before she could further respond.

He made it back over to where Hermione and Ron were still sitting at the Gryffindor table. “We should probably get started with the beach balls,” Harry said.

They stood from their seats.

“What’re y’all doing?” Eli asked curiously.

“We’re getting some stuff ready for the meeting,” Hermione responded.

There was a short silence before Eli said, sounding reluctant, “Do you need any help?”

Harry shook his head, and Eli looked relieved as he pulled out a book and settled in to read it.

To Hermione and Ron, Harry said, “You guys get started, I’m going to go enlist Ginny, Luna, and Neville too.”

They nodded firmly and Hermione conjured one of those wading pools designed for small children. Then Ron and Hermione each conjured a beach ball and put them in the pool. Ron continued to conjure beach balls while Hermione turned to the task of magically inflating them all.

Harry turned away now that he’d confirmed they had the situation under control. He hurried down the table to where Ginny was seated with her yearmates to recruit her and then to the Ravenclaw table where Neville was eating with Luna.

All of them quickly agreed to help with the beach ball conjuring, and Harry hurried back over to where Ron and Hermione were still rapidly conjuring and inflating beach balls. With all of them working at it, they soon had a lot of wading pools filled with beach balls.

They were drawing a lot of curious stares from the students still seated in the hall, but Harry ignored them in favor of absently squeezing a beach ball and rehearsing what he was going to say.

In the middle of his third speedrun through his opening remarks, all the tables suddenly vanished, causing all the students that had been sitting at them to land with a heavy thud on the ground. There was a loud round of exclamations and complaints from the students as they got to their feet.

Harry couldn’t believe McGonagall had just done that and his worries from earlier about her disrupting the meeting came flooding back. He briefly wondered if maybe Ron and Seamus were onto something before he shook it off.

He hurried to the front of the room where McGonagall was getting to her feet as well. She must have been sitting in her chair when she had vanished the head table along with the house tables. Harry reminded himself that he didn’t have the mental energy to waste on speculating about her odd behavior off for the time being.

“Did you want to speak to everyone before the meeting starts, or should I just go ahead?” Harry asked a little nervously as he arrived next to McGonagall, who had regained her feet. He had no idea what kind of things she’d say while in this odd...mood, but he still felt like he ought to offer since she was their advisor.

“No, no, I’ll just be off over there,” she responded, gesturing vaguely over her shoulder towards a corner of the room before wandering off in that direction.

Harry stared after her for a brief moment, then turned to face the small crowd of students that had formed in front of where Harry now stood. He was grateful that the head table was on a slight dais, because otherwise no one would be able to see him.

Many of the students were Gryffindors, which made sense, so it was easier for Harry and his friends to spread the news to them since they all lived together. But Harry was gratified to see that there were a respectable number of Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs- about an even number of each- and there was even a small clump of Slytherins off to the side.

Then he realized that he was awkwardly standing in front of the quiet group of people, who were clearly waiting for him to speak, so he cleared his throat and began to say what he’d been planning to for so long.

“Thank you all for coming to this first meeting of the revamped Defense Association. We were founded last year as a reaction to Umbridge’s,” he paused briefly, “ineffectual teaching methods. Then this year, we decided that the extra lessons in defense would be relevant for everyone given the current state of affairs,” Harry cleared his throat delicately before he continued.

“There is some concern over the club being led by a student, me, so this meeting is a bit of a trial run.” He was forced to pause as Ginny, the Gryffindor Quidditch team, and the rest of his friends booed this briefly. He could feel himself blushing and forced himself to ignore it so he could stay on track. “So, I decided that today’s meeting would be focused mostly on learning a slightly rare, but easy spell that I found. This way, I can be sure that the meeting is wrapped up with no loose ends. Going back to the spell, it’s a shield charm called the Clausium Charm.”

He proceeded to explain a bit of the history of the spell, including his own thoughts behind its present rarity. Then he explained the theory of the spell, in as simple terms as he could manage, since there were students as young as second and third years present.

Harry was in the middle of explaining how the shield was useless against most hexes and jinxes when a younger Ravenclaw interrupted him.

“What’s the point of a shield that can’t block spells,” he had said derisively.

Harry considered giving an actual demonstration, but decided not to because he didn’t want to overly derail his plans. Instead, he said to the group, “Hexes and jinxes aren’t the only forms of magic used in a duel. Transfigured attacks can be difficult to defend against since classic shield charms like Protego don’t block physical objects. This charm offers a defense that doesn’t require skill at transfiguration.”

Then he redirected his gaze to the boy who had interrupted and said, “Does that make sense?”

The boy nodded, so Harry went back to explaining the theory of the spell.

“Alright, so with the boring part out of the way, I think it’s time for a demonstration,” Harry said with a smile, before he drew his wand and summoned one of the wading pools full of beach balls. They flew over the students and landed a couple feet in front of him. “Ginny, would you do me a favor and chuck one of these beach balls at me?”

Ginny has been standing off to the side so she hurried onto the dais and over to where the beach balls were and scooped one up. “I can absolutely do so,” she said with a wicked grin, and backed up so she wasn’t right on top of him.

Harry grinned back and positioned his wand hand so he could flow through the wand movements as quickly as possible. He knew the beach ball wasn’t supposed to be able to go very fast, but Ginny wasn’t a Weasley and a chaser for nothing.

She whipped her arm back and sent the large beach ball at Harry. There was a moment where Harry thought it was going to move much faster than it ought to be able to, but when it left her hand, it floated through the air as it was supposed to.

He whipped through the wand movements and enunciated the incantation, “Clausius!” clearly.

Where he pointed his wand after the last wand move, a shimmering, cloudy white, two-dimensional rectangle appeared to reflect the ball back at Ginny.

The beach ball impacted with the shield and bounced back to Ginny, who hit it back towards the shield. The shield reflected the ball back at Ginny once again, but this time she caught it.

“Finite,” Harry muttered, causing the shield to dissipate. “Thank you for your assistance, Ginny.” She smiled at him and hopped back down to where she had been standing, still holding the beach ball.

“Because Ginny was tossing a beach ball at me, and not something more dangerous, I decided to bounce it back to her. That’s why it’s so important to visualize where you want the shield. If you don’t picture the shield precisely, it could be useful or useless, or even dangerous. Which is why we’re practicing with beach balls and not knives,” Harry said with a smile and was gratified when the students responded with a ripple of laughter.

“Let me run through the wand movements and pronunciation again, but slower, just to make sure everyone has it,” Harry said as he exaggerated and slowed the same wand movements he had just done, followed by repeating the incantation. He repeated it twice more because he saw that some of the younger students were miming his motions, and he wanted to be reasonably sure they had it down before he moved on.

“If you all could spread out and pair up, preferably with someone of a different house, that would be great. My friends and I will disperse the beach balls so there’s some within easy reach for everyone. Once that’s all ready, you will all take turns throwing a beach ball for your partner to deflect with the shield or practicing the shield.”

Harry stopped speaking, and the students stood there, motionless, staring at him. “Go ahead and break into pairs now,” he said uncomfortably. And it seemed that was what they were waiting for, because then there was a flurry of motion as they all split into pairs. He jumped down from the dais and started levitating the wading pools around the room.

He saw that Ginny, Ron, Hermione, and Neville were all doing the same thing, and he was glad they’d known he was talking about all of them. In no time, they had the wading pools relatively evenly dispersed through the hall.

That task completed, Harry began to walk through the hall, and while he’d expected this, it was still disappointing that practically everyone was paired with someone they knew from their own house. So, he walked through the crowd of students, introducing himself and learning their names before re-pairing them with a student from a different house.

Harry truly believed that encouraging house unity was important, not just for the war effort, but for the overall environment at Hogwarts. He thought that starting small with mixing pairs at a club was a small way to begin to encourage that.

While he’d been going around correcting the pairs, nobody had started actually practicing the spell. Which Harry supposed made sense, since they would be interrupted once Harry came by to re-pair them. But once he’d already spoken to a pair, there was still little reason to not get started on the spell. Despite this, the only motion in the room was the sound of people getting to know their partner- or, in many cases, as Harry had to acknowledge, talking to their nearby friends and ignoring their partner.

He scooped a ball out of a nearby wading pool and lobbed it at Ron, who was somewhat facing him as he got to know the Hufflepuff that Harry had paired him with. Ron saw it coming, and was just barely able to cast the shield in time to deflect it. His visualization must have been slightly off because the ball bounced off away from Harry, but he’d otherwise done an excellent job.

This was enough to start a cascade of students grabbing beach balls and tossing them at their partners. The Great Hall was soon full of the sound of shields being cast and raucous laughter as people inevitably got hit with deflected beach balls. Harry smiled briefly at the sound before beginning to move through the room, checking people’s techniques and giving mild corrections.

He wandered over to where Neville was paired with a fifth-year Ravenclaw Harry thought was named Polly and Eli was paired with Blaise Zabini.

The first thing Harry noticed was that Neville almost had his shield perfectly conjured, he just needed to exaggerate one of the wand movements a little more and he’d be there. He moved to stand next to Neville and waited till Polly tossed the beach ball at him. As Harry had expected, the ball failed to bounce off the shield like it would if it was solid and instead was deflected downwards, colliding with Neville’s legs instead of his face.

Polly had grabbed another beach ball, but Harry put his hand up to stop her. “One moment, please,” he said politely, and Polly shrugged and started tossing the ball to herself.

Turning back to Neville, Harry saw that he was thoughtfully practicing the wand movements.

“I know that I’m pronouncing it right, and I’m almost certain my visualization is good because the shield appears exactly how I’m seeing it, so I think that the problem must be with my wand movements. Only, I can’t figure out what’s wrong,” Neville said, still sounding slightly detached from his surroundings and utterly focused on watching his wand.

Harry joined him in watching his wand movements, just to be sure that his theory was right. After another iteration, Harry said, “I think I know what your problem is.” He lifted his own wand and started the specific motion Neville was having trouble with.

“See this part? Watch how I really exaggerate the wrist movement,” Harry said as he repeated the motion a couple times.

Neville was watching him closely and after a couple repetitions, copied Harry.

Harry watched his motion again and this time he seemed to have it. “Do you want to give it another shot?” he asked Neville. He nodded, so Harry said, “Hey Polly, can we get a beach ball toss?”

Polly caught the ball she’d been bouncing on her forehead. “Sure,” she said, before she lobbed it at Neville.

Neville was ready though, and cast the spell again. This time, the ball bounced right back to Polly, who caught the ball, only to set it down to give Neville a brief round of applause. Harry smiled and joined in for a moment.

“Good job, Neville,” Harry said.

Neville shifted slightly and said, “It was really easy once you showed me what I was doing wrong.”

Harry had noticed that Eli was just standing around, so he smiled and nodded at Neville, then moved over to Eli to see what was up.

“Have you both managed the shield?” Harry asked as he approached them.

Eli started slightly at this, then said, “Yes.”

Harry thought he still sounded distracted, but since Blaise had also said “Yes,” there wasn’t much he could do at the moment. He moved on to a nearby clump of third years who all seemed to be struggling, and began to patiently demonstrate the wand movements. He could always ask Eli if he was alright after the meeting.

After Potter had wandered off to assist some third years, Severus had bid farewell to Zabini and hurried out of the Great Hall.

He headed down an arbitrary hallway, not going anywhere in particular, just needing to move and to think.

The meeting had not been what Severus had expected it to be. In all honesty, Severus wasn’t sure what he had expected it to be, but certainly not the cohesive lesson on a useful spell that it had turned out to be.

And then there had been that scene with Neville Longbottom.

Severus was having a hard time assimilating it with his view of Longbottom’s character and abilities. The Longbottom he knew was a clutz, an ignoramus, a person incapable of learning from his mistakes.

But after the way Potter was able to gently correct Longbottom’s mistakes, and the way Longbottom had learned from the corrections- Severus wasn’t sure that he was entirely right about Longbottom.

And with that thought, the quiet voice that was so insistent on defending Potter quietly suggested that perhaps Severus was wrong about Potter too.

Examining this thought, Severus began to wonder why it had been so easy for him to recognize and begin to accept that his image of Longbottom was not entirely accurate, but so hard for him to accept the same about Potter.

After all, he had known both boys for the same amount of time, had had nearly the same amount of exposure to both boys, excepting the Occlumency lessons with Potter that had gone so badly during the past year.

Thinking of those lessons reminded Severus of his first confrontation with Minerva after he had been deaged. She had implored him to use his Occlumency to separate his memories of Harry and James, and he had brushed off her words, sure that he had not been confusing the two.

But now, he had to wonder if there had been some worth in Minerva’s suggestion. It would certainly explain why it was so easy for him to accept that his view of Longbottom’s character had been inaccurate, but so difficult for him to accept that his view of Potter’s was similarly inaccurate.

It felt like it was easier said than done to tackle the memories though. What he really wished he had was someone not connected to Albus, or Potter, or Minerva, that he could talk to about the situation. Really, since most of what he had to do was in his own head, he wished he had someone to tell him that he really was making the right decision to listen to Minerva’s advice.

Unfortunately, he had no such person in his life.

Severus came to a halt, and it took him a moment to realize why he was no longer moving. The hallway he had chosen to meander down was a deadend, and he had reached the end of it without noticing, so buried in his thoughts was he.

He saw that there was a room off to his right and decided that this room was probably as good a room as any for him to settle in to do some serious thinking, so he pulled open the door and entered the room.

Once Severus lit the lamps, he was able to see that it was, essentially, a sitting room. In times long past, there had been classes offered at Hogwarts taken in such small numbers by the students that the optimal classroom setting was a sitting room. He was pleased that he had found a room so well suited to the task at hand, and walked over to sit in one of the armchairs.

“Who are you,” a voice demanded.

Severus whirled around in a circle, looking for the source of the voice. He hadn’t noticed anybody, and a human was quite a large thing to just overlook. He was startled to see that it was not, in fact, a human who had spoken, but was instead a portrait.

The woman portrayed was wearing a man’s suit from, if Severus had to guess, the turn of the century. Her dark hair was pinned back from her face and she wore a pair of spectacles that she pushed further up her nose as he watched. She was seated with one leg slung over the arm of her chair and the other firmly planted on the ground.

“Well?” The portrait insisted, shifting so both feet were on the ground and her arms were crossed.

Severus sighed and said, “I’m Eli Hopkirk, I’m a sixth year in Gryffindor. Is that all, or do you want to know my astrological sign and blood type?”

The portrait rolled her eyes. She uncrossed her arms and said, “I’m Amanda Whittle, at the time I was painted I was 22 years old and a Ravenclaw alumna. And I’m a Leo. That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

Severus was the one who rolled his eyes this time. He reconsidered the wisdom of using this room to sort through his memories, but the thought of searching the castle for somewhere anywhere near as comfortable as this room was unappealing. He resigned himself to a conversation with the chatty portrait.

“I’m a Capricorn, if you must know,” he decided to say. The only reason he even knew that was because back in his second or third year, Lucius had been taking Divination, and he had needed to go through someone’s chart for an assignment. Unfortunately, Severus had had the misfortune to be there. And ever since that day, Lucius had taken to blaming Severus’s traits on his star chart.

Severus had a hard time believing that his tendencies toward pessimism and sarcasm were because Mercury had been in Capricorn when he was born.

“You were the one who suggested we exchange astrology signs,” Amanda reminded him. “Anyways, what are you doing out here? I rarely get visitors now that they’ve stopped offering Wizarding Mythology.”

Severus regretted that they’d cancelled the class before his own time at Hogwarts, especially if it had been an alternative to History of Magic. “I was just wandering through the hallways when I stumbled on this room. It looked like a nice place to just sit and think.” He paused as he thought back to what Amanda had said. “Why don’t you go visit other portraits if you don’t get many visitors?”

Amanda looked at him for a moment and Severus wondered if she knew what he was really asking. He had just wished that he had someone to talk to, someone who was unconnected to the entire deaging situation. And here he had stumbled upon someone who might fit that role. If she hadn’t visited anyone because she couldn’t, and people rarely came here, then Severus would be able to confide in her without fear that she would spread the information throughout the school.

Not to mention that if she was confined to this room, she would likely be lonely and therefore all the more willing to listen to him talk, just for the sake of having someone to talk to. Dumbledore had always said that Hogwarts would give what was needed to those who needed it. He’d always thought that was typical Dumbledore tripe, but here he was, in the perfect setting to relax and with someone to talk to.

Just like he’d wanted.

“Tragically, I was painted by an idiot who couldn’t manage to the spells to allow me to leave my frame. Back when the study of Wizarding Mythology was popular, it didn’t matter so much because I had a constant flow of visitors. But ever since the class was cut from the course list, I can go years before someone stumbles across my room.”

Severus could not believe his luck, and didn’t fight the smile that briefly curled his lips.

Amanda narrowed her eyes at him and said, “Why do I have a bad feeling about you now.”

“I’m just standing here-”

“Don’t move,” she interrupted him and pulled her glasses off her face to give them a good cleaning. She put them back on her face and said, “What’s that look on your face mean.”

Severus wiped the smile off his face. “That’s as close as I get to smiling,” he informed her. Amanda didn’t need to know that he’d only smiled because he was planning to use her as a confidant.

“You,” she said, pointing at him, “are one repressed child.”

Severus spluttered. “I am not-” he started to say, before he realized that, really, she was right. Eli Hopkirk was a child. But then he remembered that he was planning to confide in her, so this was actually a decent opportunity to tell her the truth about the whole thing.

Amanda was already raising an eyebrow at him.

“So, Eli Hopkirk is definitely a child. But I am not actually Eli Hopkirk,” Severus said, and settled in to tell her the whole story.

“So now, I’m wondering if maybe Minerva was right,” Severus concluded. He had told her the entire sordid tale, starting with his real identity and a brief overview of his life so far, and ending with a near blow-by-blow of the past couple days.

Amanda had listened in silence the entire time he’d been speaking, nodding occasionally, but otherwise keeping her peace, and Severus had truly appreciated that. It had let him get everything off his chest without losing his train of thought.

Once he was done speaking, she let the silence hang in the air for a moment. Then she said, “Are you fucking serious? I genuinely cannot tell the difference between the Potters based on what you’ve told me. You didn’t even tell me their first names, let alone a single feature that could be used to distinguish the two of them. And you had several people you seem to trust tell you that you’re wrong and even what to do to fix it, but you still have done nothing!”

Severus was momentarily taken aback by how vehement she was. He chose to ignore the part about ignoring other people and instead said, “Wait, did I really not mention their names?”

He was used to people just knowing who the Potters were, but that seemed like an important piece of information to overlook even then.

“No,” Amanda said acidly, “you didn’t.”

Severus took a deep breath. The fact that even with all the talking about the Potters that he’d done, Amanda still hadn’t been able to distinguish between them. It felt like as clear a sign as any that he needed to comb through his memories and figure out what the hell was going on.

“I am going to enter a meditative trance so I can sort through my memories,” he informed Amanda.

She said, “Good for you, it takes a real smart guy to listen to the advice everyone in his life is giving him.”

Severus was focused on finding a position comfortable enough to not jolt him out of his trance, but he paused long enough to throw a flat look at Amanda.

After a couple more moments of settling in, Severus was forced to admit that he was as comfortable as he was going to get.

He reluctantly closed his eyes and focused his attention inward. Before he descended further, he checked on the status of his shields. He was quickly able to ascertain that they were in the same condition that he’d last left them. After being discovered as a spy, his shields had required practically no maintenance since the Dark Lord no longer had the opportunity to destroy them just because he could.

Reassured that his shields were still secure, Severus hesitantly moved his focus further inward, to the part of his mind protected by the shields. A potions lab materialized around him, and despite his apprehension about the task he was here to do, he breathed a sigh of relief as he was enveloped by the calming atmosphere.

He allowed himself a few more moments to simply enjoy the ambience.

Then he reluctantly called up a memory of Potter, his senses alert so as to track it to its source. He had narrowed the location to the left side of his lab before he had to quickly release the memory. He had no desire to be enveloped in it, wary of it being a memory from his school days.

He repeated the process of calling, tracking, and releasing a memory several more times until he found himself swinging open a door that led into a dark, cramped supply closet. As he groped around for a light switch, he was irritated by the inconvenience of the closet. The closet was tiny, but the door opened into the closet, reducing the already small amount of space available even further. And he still couldn’t find a goddamned light switch.

He took a deep breath to calm down. This was his mind, Severus reminded himself, which meant it was subject to his needs. He concentrated on his current need for there to be a light in this specific closet. It didn’t occur instantly, to his aggravation, but he was pleased a moment later when one came into existence in the closet, illuminating the contents.

Severus reluctantly stepped into the closet. It was so small and cramped that he had to close the door in order to properly survey the area, but he had to carefully maneuver his way into the closet to be able to close the door behind him.

Once he managed it, he pressed his back to the door, and called up a Potter memory once more.

He groaned when it slipped out from on top of the bottom shelf, then released the memory and watched with sharp annoyance as it slipped back beneath another shelf.

Nothing about this endeavor was going to be easy, was it.

He reluctantly got to his knees and grunted in pain. His physical body might have been sixteen, but apparently his inner manifestation was still very much a grown adult with the concomitant aches and pains.

Finally, Severus was able to see the shelf that held his memories of the Potters. It was sparsely populated by potions bottles, each clearly labeled with a name and sealed tight.

He shifted several out of the way as he looked for the ones labelled with the appropriate names, grimacing as he read “Sirius Black” then, “Peter Pettigrew”, and “Sybill Trelawney”.

As he moved that last one out of the way, he was finally able to see two bottles that were placed so close together they were touching. He knew instinctively that these were what he was looking for.

He placed his hand behind them, slid them forwards into the light, and then was finally able to see that Minerva had been absolutely right all along.

For the two bottles were lacking the clear labels that had been so prominent on all the other bottles.

And, Severus realized as he glanced at the other bottles, they were the only bottles that looked anything like each other. All the other bottles were uniquely shaped, colored, and even sized, but the two bottles he was now staring at were identical in every way that Severus could discern.

Even the labels, which Severus was finally able to see once he rotated the bottles, were identical; they were faded to yellow and bearing only one name: Potter.

He grabbed one of them, just to make sure there were no differences, when he finally saw what he’d missed. Both bottles were identical, right down to the jagged hole in the back where dirty-looking sand was slowly spilling onto the shelf and mingling together.

Severus set the bottle back down next to its twin and settled back onto his haunches. This was bad.

His memory organization system clearly did not distinguish between the Potters. He wondered how it had gotten so bad, but quickly terminated that train of thought. He needed to rectify the situation before he speculated over how it had happened.

He could tell that sorting through the memories would not be as simple as relabelling the bottles, and he was still for a moment as he considered how he ought to go about that.

Severus sighed and called a basin into existence in his hands. Then he set both Potter bottles into the basin and swept the grains of sand that had spilled onto the shelf into the basin with them. He climbed to his feet with a groan as his knees and hips protested the rough treatment he’d subjected them to.

When Albus had forced him into this farce, he hadn’t thought that there would be benefits to the situation, but being reminded of the pain of having an adult body was forcing him to reconsider that stance.

He staggered into the main lab on slightly-numb legs, then set the basin onto a lab bench and looked down at it. He pulled out one of the bottles and uncorked it, pouring the memories into the basin. He set the bottle aside and repeated the process with the other one.

As soon as the last grain connected with the rest of the sand, the memories became a swirling liquid, thick and shiny as mercury. Severus flinched back in shock. The basin full of memories on the lab bench was startling reminiscent of Dumbledore’s pensieve. The last time he’d seen it, it had been on his desk during the disastrous Occlumency lessons with Potter the year before.

No sooner had he made the association, a clump of liquid had risen from the surface of the liquid. Severus quickly focused on conjuring a new bottle clearly labeled with “Harry Potter” to hold the memory.

As he brought the bottle into contact with the liquid, it was pulled in, as if the bottle was a vacuum. Severus peered into the bottle curiously and saw that it had returned to sand. He set the bottle down on the counter, then turned back to the basin full of liquid. It had not been noticeably depleted by the removal of the memory and that was how Severus knew that this was going to take a while.

He stuck a single index finger into the shimmering liquid and withdrew it. He set the glob of liquid that came out along with his finger into his palm, and brought it closer to his eyes to examine it.

There was a brief sensation of falling. Severus yanked his face away from his palm. The falling sensation stopped and Severus felt like he had been hit with the force of a train. He now knew that the memory he still held in his palm was from his very first meeting with James Potter.

It was a bit shocking to experience the memory in a single moment, only from a detached viewpoint. Severus realized that that was the point of a pensieve. To give a fresh perspective on old memories. This only confirmed that the basin now sitting on his lab bench was more than superficially reminiscent of a pensieve, because now he could think of his first meeting with James without the usual blind rage that he’d attached to it over the years.

Thankfully, unlike a pensieve, this method of memory reviewal did not require him to sit through and experience the memories in their entirety, because it would have taken years to sort through them all, even with the altered flow of time within his own mind.

Severus quickly conjured a bottle labelled “James Potter”, and set the opening next to the memory in his palm. It obligingly slid into the bottle, and Severus set the bottle next to the other one.

He set his teeth, stuck his finger into the basin again, and pulled out another memory.

This one was the moment James had saved him from Lupin. At that time, he and James’s enmity had been at its peak, and James could easily have allowed Black to carry on with his plan. But now Severus could remember that, in the aftermath of the rescue, James had expressed genuine concern for Severus’s safety. He’d almost immediately abandoned him to look after Lupin, but the concern for someone he had purported to hate had been there.

Severus had little desire to linger on this revelation, so he quickly stuffed the memory into the correct bottle.

And so the process of separating his perceptions and memories of the Potters went, with Severus pulling out most of the memories manually, but occasionally thinking of something that caused a memory to rise from the basin as if summoned.

As he neared the end of the memories, Severus was forced to admit that not only were James Potter and Harry Potter very different people, but he also hadn’t had an accurate view of either of them until now.

James Potter was loud and brash and dynamic. He had been a boisterous child with a cruel streak that Severus had borne the brunt of during their school days. He also had a rigid sense of loyalty that bound him to those he loved, and an infectious ability to have fun. As an adult he had mellowed out, and had more or less gotten his cruel streak under control by bending it towards improving his skill at duelling and helping with the war effort. And he had truly loved his wife and child, enough to knowingly and willingly give his life for them.

James Potter was not the two-dimensional bully that Severus had believed him to be for so long. And while he had certainly bullied Severus during their time at Hogwarts, that had not remained his defining characteristic. He had, however, remained a consummate attention-seeker all his life, shamelessly performing for the crowds on and off the Quidditch pitch.

James Potter was his contemporary and his rival and a complex human.

Harry Potter was quiet and insecure and brave. He had been a hopeful child, wide-eyed and curious. He also had a brash, sarcastic streak and a reckless disregard for his own safety. He was still a child, but lately he had become withdrawn, and his self-worth had plummeted. He was immensely loyal to those that earned his trust, and he was patient while he taught.

Harry Potter was not the two-dimensional brat that Severus had believed him to be for so long. Severus could now acknowledge that he’d had practically no basis to justify this judgement. Harry enjoyed flying for fun and went out of his way to avoid attracting attention. He was distressed by his fame and clung to his true friends.

Harry Potter was his student and his charge and a complex human.

And on the heels of his revelation that Harry and James were distinct individuals came a veritable flood of guilt as he realized how terribly he had treated Harry.

Severus had taken on the role of tormentor that he had been denied during his own school years. He had been so bitter and angry at a deceased man that he had leveraged his position of power to get revenge on that dead man’s child.

Severus rubbed his hand over his face and grit his teeth. He had just found clarity, and it had been so hard to obtain that he decided not to squander it by lying to himself.

In the name of honesty, Severus had to admit that he had not played the role of James, the childhood bully, in his interactions with Harry. Severus and James had both been eleven year old boys when they met, and while James would have usually had Sirius Black to back him up, there was no intrinsic power imbalance. Their interactions, at their core, were of children bickering.

But Severus was Harry’s professor. They were inherently on uneven footing, even setting aside their age differences, and Severus held significant power over Harry.

The truth of the matter was that Severus was the Tobias Snape in this situation. Because there was an inherent power imbalance in all their interactions- Harry was not free to fight back against Severus in any meaningful way.

That’s not to say that Harry had never tried to fight back. But when he did, Severus had invariably retaliated with detention or points taken. There had been simply no way for Harry to win.

Tobias had taken advantage of Severus’s powerlessness to vent his frustrations and express his displeasure, taking great pleasure in the harm he caused to Severus. And Severus had done the exact same thing to Harry, telling himself that Harry was the spoiled bully that James had been.

But now, with the clarity sorting through his memories had given him, Severus could see that even if Harry had been James reincarnate, which he was not, he still would not deserve to be treated the way Severus had treated him.

And if Harry didn’t deserve to be treated poorly on account of his parentage, then Gryffindors as a whole didn’t deserve to be treated poorly simply because they were in the same house that James had been all those years ago.

With this realization, Severus felt a bubble of regret build up in his gut. The other day he had bemoaned the lack of potions masters, but now he could see that it was his own fault that there were so few. In sorting through his memories, he had seen potions class after potions class where the atmosphere was so thick and uncomfortable that it was a miracle anyone learned anything at all.

Potions was a dangerous subject, and Severus had made it even more so by refusing to discipline students for clear safety violations. The fact that his godson, Draco, had felt like it was reasonable to just toss ingredients into Potter’s cauldron, was proof of Severus’s utter failure in classroom management.

Because while Draco was talented at potions, he was not talented enough to account for all the possible ingredient interactions required to pull a prank like that safely. And Severus knew that Draco had only felt particularly safe targeting Harry because Severus had made his opinions of Harry abundantly clear.

And Severus had treated Harry’s friends especially badly, even considering how he’d treated Gryffindors in general. He had looked at them and seen Lupin in both Weasley’s poverty and Granger’s ostracism for her blood status. All because they were “Potter’s” friend.

It all came back to Severus’s issues with James, didn’t it?

Because his issues with James had lead him to mistreating Gryffindors, to creating a tense and dangerous classroom environment, and, most of all, to victimizing and denigrating a child in his charge.

At least Severus had had this chance to see what he had done and now had an opportunity to right some of the wrongs.

Severus realized that he was staring blankly at the nearly empty basin. There was just one memory remaining, and Severus reached out to touch it, ready to have this whole process be over with.

He flushed with shame as he realized what the memory was. He had been taken back to Harry’s first Occlumency lesson, and Severus was now able to realize that he had been nearly entirely at fault for Harry’s failure with the subject.

Prior to sorting through his memories, he had genuinely believed that Harry had received the typical pureblood heir’s training in Occlumency, much like James would have. He had had some vague idea that perhaps Black had given him lessons, or perhaps a more distant Potter relative had stepped in.

So the lessons Severus had been told to give would be meant to help strengthen and refine existent shields. But he now knew that that was not the case, because Harry and James were not the same people- Harry had been raised in the muggle world and would not have had an opportunity to receive lessons.

So, in reality, Severus been violating Harry’s mind. He had assumed that if Harry had wanted to, he could have shielded his mind, thanks to the aforementioned lessons, but had simply chosen not to out of disrespect for Severus. And he had retaliated accordingly.

Except now he knew that Harry had had no opportunities for lessons, and he felt the bubble of regret that had been building in his gut finally burst. He had wronged the boy in so very many ways.

From the moment Harry had entered his classroom. Severus had bullied and harassed him, and Severus had been unable to see it. No wonder Albus, Minerva, Chen, even Amanda had all been so disappointed and frustrated with him. The size of his failures felt monumental.

He knew he could do nothing about the past, but he could do something in the present to change the future. Albus had asked him to befriend Harry, and Severus would do that- for a day or so.

Then he would go and speak to Albus about how his “mission” had gone, and then return to his proper body. He would be able to resume his position as potions professor and Chen would leave. Severus could acknowledge that she had been right to point out his shortfallings, but that didn’t mean he had to like her. And once he was back in his position as potions professor, he’d be able to move forward from his past mistakes.

Maybe once he’d established that he’d changed he could offer to properly teach Harry Occlumency, but that was further down the line. For now, he’d focus on being a good potions professor.

Severus refocused on his inner potions lab and banished the now empty basin. He scooped up the clearly labeled bottles that contained all his memories of the Potters and set Harry’s on the shelf with Minerva McGonagall’s and Albus Dumbledore’s. Then he crossed the lab to where Lily Evans’ bottle resided and set James’s down next to hers, an odd sense of finality resonating within him at the sight of the two names next to each other.

Then he had a thought, so he gently slid Lily’s bottle off the shelf. He focused for a moment on the label and it rearranged itself to his will. He set the bottle back on the shelf, next to James’s, and gave them one last look.

James Potter and Lily Evans Potter.

He closed his eyes, the image of the two bottles still visible in his mind’s eye, and took a deep breath.

When he opened his eyes again it was to the sitting room and the painting of Amanda. He blinked a few times and stretched luxuriously, both to reestablish his connection to reality and to enjoy the lack of aches or pains in this young body for one of the last times he’d get the chance to.

“Have a good time?” Amanda asked snidely.

Severus considered this for a moment. He had certainly had an educational time, but- “No, not really. It was rather like taking a potion. Good for me, but decidedly unpleasant as it happened.”

Amanda took a long sip from her glass of wine then gave it a swirl before she said, “And it sounded to me like that was a long time coming.”

He glanced away from her piercing eyes. “Yes, well, better late than never, right?” He grimaced at the way this came out. He’d meant it to be a flat statement of fact, not the childishly hopeful question it came out as.

“I suppose,” she said, in a very bored tone of voice. “I assume you’re going to run off now and I’ll be left to sit here for another decade without any contact with anyone…” Amanda trailed off with a forlorn look at her glass of wine.

Severus shifted awkwardly, not sure what to say.

“It’s fine! It’s not like I sat here and listened to you talk through your problems and then stared at you taking your little nap or anything!” she continued, shifting her gaze from her wineglass to stare sadly at Severus.

He found himself missing her piercing stare, because the forlorn look was making him feel guilty. Well, it was a nice room, maybe he could tip Harry and his friends off about it before he became himself again. Then they could do their studying here sometimes, and Amanda could stop looking at him like that.

“I’ll try and make sure you get visitors,” Severus offered awkwardly.

Amanda smiled. “Please do,” she said.

Severus stood from his seat, opened the door, and awkwardly stood in the doorway for a moment as he bid her farewell. The smile fell from her face and she mumbled a farewell. He allowed the door to close behind him and set off for the Gryffindor tower.

He wanted to spend some time with Harry before the next morning because after breakfast he intended to go speak with Albus. And now he also had to make sure that Harry knew about Amanda’s room before he became himself again.

God knew there was no way Harry would take a suggestion on something like that from Snape.

And then Severus remembered something that he’d overlooked. Severus had undergone massive changes in a very short amount of time, but Harry didn’t know that he had. Harry didn’t even know that Severus was Eli, but if Severus told him that, then Harry would hate Severus more than ever for lying to him.

He’d have to tread very carefully once he was the potion professor again, just to make sure he didn’t set Harry on edge, or, rather, more on edge than he normally was with Severus. After Crouch had impersonated Moody for an entire year, Harry would be well within his rights to be wary of a sudden change in a professor.

When Severus entered the common room, Harry was seated off to the side with his group of friends, and they were all excitedly discussing the meeting. It took Severus a moment to recall the meeting because so much had happened, for him, since then.

“Hey Eli,” Harry said, once he noticed Severus hovering beside their group.

Severus started a little; he hadn’t realized he’d gotten so close to them. “Hey everyone,” he said to the group at large. He had the thought that both Weasleys still at Hogwarts were in the crowd, and then came to the irritating conclusion that he couldn’t think of them as “Weasley” and have any idea which one he was thinking about. And the ways he had distinguished them before this evening were not conducive to his determination to turn over a new leaf.

Flicking his eyes between the two Weasleys, Severus decided that the older one would be Weasley One and the younger one would be Weasley Two. The other ones were graduated, so if he encountered them he’d figure out what to think of them as at that point.

“We were just talking about the meeting,” Granger informed him.

“Take a seat, mate,” Weasley One said with a gesture to an empty chair.

Severus moved to take a seat, and as he went, Longbottom said, “We were waiting for you to show up so we saved you a seat.”

“Yeah,” Harry said. “You just kinda disappeared from the meeting?” the question was clear in his tone and Severus realized he’d neglected to plan a response.

“Once I had the charm down, I decided to head off to get some more studying done,” Severus decided to say.

“Well, you missed the truly epic game of ‘don’t let the beach ball touch the ground’ that we played at the end,” Weasley One said.

Harry blushed at this.

Severus frowned slightly and stared at Weasley One for a moment.

Granger clarified, “Harry blasted all the beach balls into the air and the goal was to keep as many balls in the air using just the shield as possible.”

“We would’ve lasted a lot longer had someone-” Weasley Two paused to shoot a dirty look at Weasley One. “-not tried to hoard four beach balls to bounce on their own.”

“Oy! I was doing just fine!” Weasley One objected.

“Until you dropped all four!” Weasley Two said.

Severus settled in for the evening. The Weasleys were showing no signs of stopping any time soon and Harry seemed to be enjoying their banter. It looked like he would have to find a way to mention Amanda’s room at breakfast the next morning instead.

He realized now that he had been foolish to expect Harry to be waiting on his own for Severus to befriend him, but this was as good a way as any to spend his last night as a teenager.

The next morning Severus woke up feeling much the same as he had every other time he’d woken up since this “mission” had begun. That is to say, he felt remarkably fresh and chipper thanks to the lack of body aches and how generally refreshed his sleep left him feeling. This morning in particular his good mood was augmented by the thought that this was the last time he’d have to wake up in Gryffindor tower surrounded by teenagers.

“Good morning,” he said cheerily to Harry as he passed him on his way to the bathroom.

“Good morning, Eli,” he heard Harry say back as he closed the door behind him.

When he was done with his morning routine, he headed down to join the others in the common room before they all headed off to breakfast together.

They were discussing how McGonagall had wandered off before the meeting had ended. Harry was worried that that meant she was unhappy with how the meeting had gone, and the others were trying to reassure him that it probably meant that she was happy with his ability to lead the group on his own. Severus actually happened to agree with the group for once.

“Yeah Harry, if she thought you were too incompetent to lead the DA she would never have left you alone with the group,” Severus said as soon as there was a lull.

“Or it meant that she was too disappointed in how badly I did to say anything last night, so she just walked away,” Harry said, anxiously twisting his hands around.

Weasley One reached out and took one of his hands and Granger took the other. “You’re being ridiculous, Harry,” Granger stated calmly.

“Anyways,” Weasley One said, “we really ought to be discussing how her disappearance fits into our McGonagall/Snape conspiracy theories.”

“Please, not this again, not this early in the morning,” Hermione said in a slightly desperate tone as she gave her and Harry’s hand a swing.

“Fine,” Weasley One grumbled.

Severus was quite grateful that that was the end of the conversation topic because he didn’t think he could manage to act normally if they had continued. Even the way they referred to the theories was cursed.

Since Harry was still staring down at his hands that were clasped tightly in his friends’ grasps. when they made it to the Gryffindor table, Severus moved around it with Longbottom to sit across from them.

“Y’know I need my hands to eat right?” Harry said, as Granger and Weasley One started loading up Harry’s plate along with their own.

“Or,” Granger said as she buttered a piece of toast with just her left hand, “you could just sit there while we feed you.”

“Yeah, they ain’t gonna let you starve, Harry,” Severus said with a grimace at the accent spell. Then he added to himself, or at least they better not let him starve. Maybe these ridiculous antics were why Harry was so abominably thin. He resolved to keep an eye on them from the head table from now on, just to be sure that Harry wasn’t wasting away because of his friends’ tomfoolery.

As he was watching, Harry looked as though he wanted to die of embarrassment while Ron spoon fed him scrambled eggs. Then he heard Minerva clear her magically amplified throat.

Severus turned around to see what she would say, and a chill of premonition ran through him when he saw that Dumbledore’s chair was eerily empty.

The students had all fallen silent, even though they had not been all that loud before, since it was only breakfast after all.

“I have a brief announcement before I let you all return to your breakfasts. Professor Dumbledore has asked me to let you all know that he will be unavailable for the next few weeks…”

Severus knew she was still talking, but was unable to pay attention as his world started spinning around him.

This was not how it was supposed to go.

He was supposed to be able to walk up to Dumbledore’s office after breakfast and inform him that not only was Harry mature enough to handle being told of the Horcruxes, but he was also a remarkably good person.

Or, well, he probably wouldn’t mention that last part. But the first part would be sufficient for Dumbledore to return his access to his lab so he could brew the antidote to the deaging potion.

But now Minerva’s words echoed in his head.

A few weeks.

Severus would now have to spend a few weeks as Eli Hopkirk, sixth-year Gryffindor and Harry Potter’s newest friend.

“Mr. Potter, would you please stay behind?” McGonagall said.

Harry set his bag back down and sat back in his seat. He could see that Sue Li had gotten up to talk with her, and he figured that would take at least a minute or two.

McGonagall probably wanted to speak to him about the DA meeting. It was now Thursday, and she hadn’t made an effort to reach out to him yet. He hadn’t wanted to bug her since she was probably busier than ever with administrative duties since Dumbledore had left the school. He had planned to get Ginny to come with him to speak with her again if she hadn’t reached out to him by the end of the week.

But now she was holding him back, and she did seem to be somewhat back to normal compared to how she’d been on Tuesday. At the very least, she had left Eli alone and conducted class as normal, which was a bit of a relief for Harry. Tuesday had been a little too reminiscent of Potions class with Snape for Harry’s liking, even if he hadn’t been the target.

“We’ll wait for you,” Ron said as he filed out of the class with Hermione and the others.

Harry smiled at him in thanks and shifted in his seat as he waited for Sue to finish speaking with McGonagall.

Finally, she left, and McGonagall beckoned Harry to join her at the front of the room. Harry slung his bag over his shoulder, rose from his seat, and made his way over to her.

“As I’m sure you’ve guessed, I asked you to stay behind so we could discuss the Defense Association meeting on Tuesday, and the future of the meetings,” she said, then stopped.

Harry quickly nodded and said, “I thought so.” He wasn’t sure what else to say, so he didn’t add anything. He hardly wanted to say something that would be embarrassing if she was about to tell him that the club was cancelled or that someone else would be taking over.

After all the reassurances his friends had given him over the past day and a half over how good the meeting had been, he was no longer certain that was where this meeting was going, but he couldn’t quite bring himself to entirely believe it.

“Good. I found myself very pleasantly surprised on Tuesday. Your lesson was very topical and informative; accessible to even the youngest members of your audience, yet novel enough to hold the attention of the older students. And the activity you planned to practice the shield was safe and practical.” She gave him a smile, and Harry reflexively returned it, more shocked than anything else.

“I find myself comfortable with allowing your group to meet at your discretion. All I ask is you give me your lesson plans a day or two in advance so I can have an opportunity to look over it in advance. Unless I speak to you before the meeting, and I don’t see that happening often, you can assume that your lessons are approved,” she concluded.

This was far beyond what Harry had allowed himself to hope for.

“Thank you,” he said, with a grateful look to McGonagall.

She cleared her throat and said, “Yes, well, you certainly proved yourself trustworthy and talented. I see little need to micromanage your efforts.” She glanced at her watch. “I’m sure you have a class to get to.”

The dismissal was clear, so Harry said, “Have a good day.” Then he headed out of the classroom to rejoin his friends, who had waited for him. As he stepped into the hallway, he was bombarded by several questions at once and was unable to understand any of them.

“Guys, one at a time, please,” Harry said over the confusing noise.

Then nobody was saying anything at all. Thankfully, Hermione rolled her eyes after a moment and said, “I assume the gist of what everyone was asking was: what did Professor McGonagall say?”

Harry grinned broadly and said, “She said that we’re approved to keep the club going; all I have to do is submit the lessons ahead of time. She won’t even be attending the meetings anymore.”

Ron slung his arm around Harry’s shoulder. “That’s great, mate!” he exclaimed.

Hermione checked her watch. “We ought to get going or we’ll be late for Herbology,” she said, beginning to move down the corridor.

Ron started walking as soon as she did, but neglected to remove his arm from Harry’s shoulders, choosing, instead, to drag Harry along for the brief moment before Harry started moving too. Harry wouldn’t have minded so much if it wasn’t a bit like a three-legged race trying to walk with Ron like this.

But he wasn’t sure what to say to convey that, and he definitely didn’t want to just shrug Ron’s arm off, so he did his best to walk in step with Ron to minimize their difficulties.

Hermione turned the conversation to discussing the assignment that was due for Herbology, and Harry half-listened to her re-dissect it for the millionth time. He was mostly focused on facilitating his and Ron’s walk.

After Herbology, they went right to lunch, hungry from a period spent wrestling with self-fertilizing shrubs. Harry still had a hard time believing that not only were the dangerous plants kept on the grounds, but the class was asked to care for them.

“I mean really, they eat literal flesh! We can’t even keep too many of them next to each other or they will eat each other! It just feels like a safety hazard,” Harry said with emphatic gesticulation.

Ron grinned and said, “You’re just mad that one nibbled on you a bit.”

“And I think that’s a valid thing to be upset about!” Harry insisted.

They were heading up the steps to the castle when Colin Creevey ran up to Ron and Hermione.
“You need to come quick!” he panted urgently. “Louise fell into the lake and we need your help!”

Ron and Hermione exchanged a quick glance, then ran off towards the lake, Colin quickly pulling ahead to more accurately direct them.

“Wonder what it is with people close to Colin falling into the lake,” Harry mused as he, Eli, and Neville watched them go.

Eli and Neville shrugged.

“I think Ron and Hermione have that under control,” said Neville as Ron and Hermione disappeared behind a hill.

Harry backed up a stair step as Eli said, “There’s no use being hungry while we wait for them to sort that out.”

At this, the three of them turned to walk into the castle. They were joined by Ginny in the Entrance Hall, and she decided to join them for lunch. Harry was still catching her up on Ron and Hermione’s location and the reason for the bandage on his wrist when the food appeared on the table.

Conversation ceased while they served themselves and ate. Once the edge had been taken off his hunger, Harry said, “So anyways, I’m just glad Sprout had some Dittany and a bandage on hand so I didn’t have to go to the hospital wing.”

“Wow, Harry, you were happy to avoid the hospital wing? How out of character for you,” Ginny said drily.

Harry shrugged. He wasn’t exactly subtle about avoiding the hospital wing. Eli was looking at him curiously, so Harry quickly shifted his attention to his plate of food. Harry did not want Eli to think too much about his hospital wing avoiding tendencies since Eli was the only one who’d actually managed to see his bruises from the summer.

At the time, Harry had been too preoccupied with other things to really consider that Eli was the only one who had ever seen anything near the full extent of his bruising. Of course, this was also the first time in years Vernon had actually left lasting marks on him, so this was also one of the first times he’d even had bruising for him to worry about hiding.

“So, do you think you’ll be alright for Quidditch practice tomorrow night?” Ginny asked.

Harry startled briefly, unsure what she meant. Then he glanced at his still bandaged wrist as though to confirm that he already knew the answer and said, “Yeah, of course, the plant only nibbled on me a bit.”

“Good, it’s our second practice with the new players; I know Katie, Demelza, and I need a lot of work to get in sync and it’d be sad to have to cancel it,” Ginny said with a relieved smile.

Harry smiled wryly, “I think Oliver Wood would just instantly appear to slaughter me if I cancelled Quidditch for anything short of death.”

Ginny snorted. “Yeah, he probably would.”

Glancing over at Eli, Harry clarified, “Oliver Wood was the Gryffindor Quidditch Captain from my first year to my third year, and he was an absolute Quidditch fanatic. He once told me to, and I quote, ‘Catch the snitch, or die trying,’ and I’m reasonably sure he was serious.”

Ginny nodded, “Percy says that rooming with him was one of the more harrowing experiences of his life, and that’s saying something.”

“And he was allowed to have a position of authority?” Eli said skeptically.

“He was damned good at Quidditch, so, worth it,” Harry said. “Anyways, the point is that Quidditch practice is still on as scheduled for after dinner.”

They were soon joined by Ron and Hermione, who wasted no time in telling them all about their rescue of Louise, a fifth year who really ought to have known better by this point, from the lake. Harry supposed that it was good that this had happened now, in September, and not during the winter, when the lake would have been frozen.

Towards the end of their lunch period, Harry realized that this was probably the most convenient chance he’d get to talk to all his friends. Luna was the only one missing, and she could easily be filled in later, so Harry said, “I’ve been meaning to ask you guys if we could meet after dinner today to talk about DA stuff.”

Ron, Hermione, Neville, and Eli all agreed.

“Does anyone have any ideas for where we could meet? The Room of Requirement is a bit out of the way to just have a conversation, so if we could avoid meeting there, that’d be great.” He paused and gave Ron and Hermione a significant look. “Maybe an abandoned classroom?”

“No!” Ron interjected. “We are not getting stuck in another of those goddamned rooms.”

Ginny rolled her eyes as Hermione nodded in emphatic agreement.

“Luckily for you two, I know where we could meet; there’s this room that’s essentially a sitting room on the first floor,” Eli said.

“Sounds good to me. You can show us how to get there from dinner, right?” Harry asked, just to be sure.

Eli nodded.

“Should we just eat together then?” Ginny asked. “I have History with Luna, so I can invite her to join us then.”

Harry shrugged and nodded; a quick glance around the table showed that the others were in agreement too, so he was glad that this worked out so well. It would be nice to get some input on what direction to take the DA lessons in. He had some ideas from his connection to Voldemort, but he was hoping to make it seem like they were someone else’s idea.

Given their tendency to mother him, he knew that if he mentioned his regular trips to Voldemort’s mind, Hermione and Ron would definitely go into worrying overdrive. And he definitely wanted to avoid worrying them, so this seemed like the best way to avoid having the focus be on how Harry had gotten certain information.

Soon after their conversation had ended, it was time for them to head off to their next classes.

Harry paid close attention to Flitwick’s lecture in Charms to make up for his lack of attention on Tuesday. It was still a bit difficult to pay attention, because they were covering a charm that Harry had already experienced from his wanderings through Voldemort’s mind, but he was able to force himself to manage it.

At least the practical next class ought to be very easy for Harry to ace.

After Charms, they headed down to dinner together. Harry and Ron took the opportunity to dissect the Quidditch practice from the night before, since they hadn’t had a chance to yet. Harry vaguely heard Hermione and Eli begin discussing some theory or another, but he was focused on Ron’s opinions of the Chasers since he was so much better placed to observe them than Harry was.

When they got to the table, they were joined by Ginny and Luna. Ginny quickly inserted herself into the conversation, which then dissolved into bickering. Harry thought it was really funny how Ron could go from a calm and rational discussion on strategies the Chasers ought to try when Ginny was absent, to mindlessly arguing with her as soon as she was there.

Harry figured he could pick Ron’s brain some other time since they did live together. And watching the siblings bicker was peak dinner entertainment, in Harry’s opinion.

Eventually they subsided, and Harry was able to listen to Hermione, Eli, and Luna’s conversation. It was immediately obvious that Luna must have severely derailed whatever they had been talking about before, because he hardly believed that Hermione and Eli would have chosen to discuss the prevalence of the Rotfang Conspiracy.

This conversation topic carried them through to the end of dinner.

“Is everyone ready to go?” Eli said.

Harry nodded and glanced at everyone else’s plates, which were similarly cleared.

They rose from their seats as a group. Eli was clearly leading the way as they filed out of the Great Hall.

“Kinda funny that the new student is the one showing us where to go, huh?” Ron said, after a moment.

“Guess that’s what happens when you actually explore,” Harry said, smirking at Ron and Hermione. Then, before they could say anything, he continued, “The Marauder’s Map let us be lazy about exploring.”

“Yup,” Ginny said, popping the ‘p’.

Ron nudged her with his elbow. “Mum told you not to do that.”

Ginny caught his elbow and shoved it back at him. Then she rolled her eyes at him and said, “It’s not like she’s here, is it?”

Hermione grabbed Ron’s hand and steered him away from Ginny. “I thought Charms was interesting today, wouldn’t you agree, Ron?” she said, too sweetly.

Ron nodded quickly and gave their entwined hands a swing.

Harry hid a laugh at how easily Hermione was able to diffuse Ron, sure that Ron would not appreciate being laughed at.

Then Harry walked into Eli, who had come to a stop. Harry quickly leapt away and apologized. Eli gave him a slightly odd look that Harry could not decipher, then quickly shook it off in favor of opening a door.

Harry slipped through the doorway first and surveyed the comfortable looking room. There were several armchairs arranged in a circle in the middle, and also some comfortably bright overhead lighting. Against the back wall there was an unlit fireplace that Harry thought would be very pleasant in the winter. There were also several landscapes hung up on the walls, along with the portrait of a young woman.

“Here’s the room I found,” Eli announced, as everyone filed in behind him.

“Oooh! You kept your promise!” the portrait said happily.

Eli shifted uncomfortably and said, “Yes, well, you asked me to bring visitors, and we needed somewhere to meet, so.”

“Hi everyone!” the portrait cut in, “I’m Amanda, and I’m a portrait that is tragically stuck in her frame thanks to an incompetent painter.”

Harry didn’t respond to that, because he figured someone else was going to, but then nobody else responded either. Just as he was going to figure out something to say, however, Amanda continued speaking.

“C’mon Eli, aren’t you going to introduce me to your friends?”

“Ah, right,” Eli said, and then proceeded to point at each of them and say their names in turn.

As Harry watched, Amanda followed Eli’s finger as he pointed and mouthed each name. Once they’d all been introduced, she said, “It’s nice to meet you all.”

“I hope you don’t mind if we chat in here for a bit?” Harry asked, just to be sure that they weren’t imposing. She might only have wanted to meet people, not have her space invaded by them, and he wanted to give her a chance to kick them out.

“Oh, please do stay, it’s been ages since I’ve had regular visitors, and it gets rather lonely in my frame.”

Harry flashed a smile at her, then joined the short frenzy of everyone finding seats. Despite the abundance of comfortable chairs, Ron ended up in Hermione’s lap, and Harry didn’t bother to hide his eye roll at this. Once he was settled in his own chair, he glanced over and saw that Ginny was fake vomiting at them. Harry laughed at her antics, but this caught Ron’s attention, meaning Ron looked over and saw Ginny too.

“Real mature, Ginny. Real mature,” Ron said.

Ginny grinned and shrugged.

“So,” Hermione said as she rubbed Ron’s back, “what were we going to talk about?”

Harry scrambled to order his thoughts, but before he could say anything, Neville was talking.

“Uh, before we get started, I was doing some reading for Potions, and I came across this potion called Felix Felicis that makes you extraordinarily lucky, and I just thought that it would be really great if we could have some on hand given everything, you know?”

Harry could certainly use some luck, and so could all his friends, really, if they continued to force their way into things like they had last year.

Eli scoffed, but Hermione said, “I’ve read about that too, but it’s also incredibly expensive, difficult, and time-consuming to brew! I don’t think I’d trust even myself to do it.”

“A potion you can’t brew?” Ron said in an overly-shocked tone. “Don’t let second-year Hermione hear you say that, she’d probably chuck the bottle of Polyjuice Potion she’d just brewed at your head.”

“Polyjuice Potion isn’t all that difficult to brew, though! It’s just easy to misuse, which is why the recipe is kept in the Restricted Section of the library. Felix Felicis is actually dangerous to brew, and you won’t know if you messed up, and wasted all those expensive ingredients, until after the six-month brewing period is over,” Hermione patiently explained.

Harry was disappointed that they wouldn’t be able to get the potion. “Well, it was a nice thought, Neville.”

“Actually, I can brew Felix Felicis,” Eli said.

Harry frowned slightly and turned to glance at Hermione to see how she’d respond.

She looked agitated as she said, “I’m sorry, I just have a hard time believing that.”

Eli spread his hands and said, “I’ll bet I can brew any potion you can think of.”

Now Hermione looked shocked. After a long pause, she said, “Prove it.”

Eli got to his feet and started walking toward the door. “Well, aren’t you coming?”

“Coming where?” Ron asked, somewhat confusedly.

“To the dungeons to watch me prove that I can brew anything,” Eli said, as if it were obvious.

Hermione started shoving at Ron, who had yet to move from her lap. “I get to choose what you brew, and I want to test the sample, too.”

Harry reluctantly got to his feet. The chair he had been sitting in was very comfortable and the dungeons were very far away, especially considering he had an ice cube's chance in hell of understanding what would be happening there.

Eli had shrugged in response to Hermione’s demands, but seemed so confident that, despite Harry’s utmost confidence in Hermione’s abilities, Harry began to wonder if maybe Eli could brew something that Hermione couldn’t.

They quickly made it to the NEWT-level potions lab. It was thankfully empty since it was after dinner and still too early in the school year for students to be stressing outside of class. Hermione made an immediate beeline to the shelf of books in the corner, and then sat down cross-legged in front of it as she pulled down book after book.

“Uh, what’re you doing Hermione?” Ron said, likely because he was the only one brave enough to ask.

“Looking for a relatively fast potion that I can’t brew,” she said distractedly, discarding yet another book.

Harry wandered off to examine the diagrams that Chen must have put up since their last class here on Wednesday. He had just finished looking at the last one, completing his circuit of the lab, when Hermione made a noise of triumph. He immediately walked over to where she was getting to her feet from her spot by the bookshelf.

“It’s a clothing-stain remover potion. It’s one of the most difficult potions to brew, because the brewer has to be perfectly in tune with the inherent rhythm of the potion, and also perfectly time the addition of ingredients to this rhythm. And it only takes an hour to brew,” she explained, still looking pleased with herself.

Harry had no idea what she meant by “inherent rhythm of the potion” and a quick look around showed that neither did any of the others. Well, except for Eli, who had nodded along to her explanation.

“Can I see the recipe?” Eli asked calmly.

Hermione handed him the book, which was still open to the appropriate page. Harry watched as Eli scanned the page, and when he reached the bottom, he nodded and closed the book.

“So, you can’t do it then?” Ron stated, in a tone that implied that he didn’t think it was a question.

“No, I can do it. My school’s specialty was potions,” he added, as an afterthought.

Harry was more grateful than ever that Chen had paired them together. Even if Eli messed this potion up, he’d probably be able to easily manage the ones they brewed in class.

Hermione huffed and pulled out a chair, turning it around to face the brewing station behind it. “You can brew it here,” she said firmly as she sat in the chair.

Eli shrugged and summoned an iron cauldron and a silver stirring rod from the storeroom. He set them down at the station Hermione had designated.

“The recipe doesn’t say to use those materials!” Hermione objected as they landed in front of her.

“I know that they’re the best ones,” Eli said. “There’s a book about the different interactions of cauldrons and stirring rods with potions, and I bet your library has a copy, if you want me to show you later.”

Hermione still looked cross as she said, “I would like that.”

While Eli went to go get ingredients from the cupboard, Harry pulled out a chair from across the aisle to sit in while he watched the proceedings. He was quickly joined by the others in pulling up chairs to watch.

Eli quickly returned with a basket full of all the necessary ingredients. He set the basket down all the way to his left of the station. Then he started pulling the ingredients out one by one, preparing each one as needed before he pulled out the next one.

Harry was mesmerized by the efficiency and confidence of Eli’s actions as he brewed. This, he thought, is what brewing is meant to be. The tranquility of this environment was so far from what he could too-clearly remember from Snape’s classes. This, combined with the difference Chen’s classes were making, made Harry wonder if he could like potions.

Because watching Eli brew was like watching Viktor Krum fly. He was clearly in his element, and Harry wondered if Eli was even fully aware that he was being watched.

By the time Eli’s basket was empty, he had each of the ingredients laid out neatly in a line leading to the cauldron that was all the way to the left of the station. Then Eli paused in his actions and summoned an egg timer from the front of the room. “I’d appreciate it if y’all were quiet while I put it all together. Getting attuned to the potion is hard, and it’d be nice if I didn't have to get reattuned while I’m brewing.”

Ginny and Luna stopped their whispered conversation, but they had been the only ones talking.

With the lab now silent, Eli lit the fire beneath his cauldron and put the first ingredient in. Harry barely recognized half of the ingredients that Eli was using, and the ones Harry did recognize were prepared in unfamiliar ways, so he wasn’t able to take away any knowledge, really.

As Harry thought that, he had to stop himself from snorting in amusement. That was the one thing watching Eli and Snape’s lessons had in common. Harry didn’t learn a single thing from either of them.

Most of the actual brewing passed in a bit of a blur for Harry. Then Eli was suddenly dousing the fire, and Harry was pulled from his thoughts.

“Does anyone have a shirt with an impossible stain?” Eli asked them.

Harry thought of Dudley’s castoffs sitting in his trunk and thought that they probably fit the ticket. “I have a shirt with a stain that the house elves can’t seem to get rid of, does that count?”

“That’s perfect, can you summon it?”

Harry considered just casting Accio to get it, but decided to ask Dobby to retrieve it instead.

“Hey Dobby,” he called into the air, a bit self consciously.

Almost immediately there was the pop of apparition, and Dobby appeared right in front of Harry.

“How can I help you, Master Harry Potter, sir?” Dobby said excitedly, bouncing forward onto the balls of his feet.

Harry glanced at the others. He was still a little reluctant to even admit to having Dudley’s castoffs with him. There was nothing for it though, so he said, “Could you get me one of Dudley’s old shirts from my trunk?”

“Of course I can, Master Harry Potter, sir!” Dobby squeaked. Then he hugged Harry’s lap and disappeared. He was barely gone for a minute before he reappeared, holding one of the better ones. It was still irredeemably stained though, so it was perfect for their needs.

“Thank you, Dobby, this is perfect,” Harry said as he accepted the shirt.

Harry passed the shirt to Eli, and Dobby looked curiously at the ladle of potion Eli had readied.

“Can I stay and watch?” Dobby asked.

“Yeah, sure,” Harry said, before he realized that he should probably have let Eli answer, since he was the one who brewed the potion. A quick glance at Eli showed that he hadn’t reacted though, so Harry thought it was probably fine.

Hermione had been busy inspecting the color and consistency of the potion while Harry had obtained the shirt. Then she sat back down and gestured for Eli to go ahead.

Eli spread the shirt out next to the cauldron and found a particularly nasty stain. Harry decided to get up for a better look, and there was a quick scramble as the others also got up to get a better look. Eli paused while everyone crowded into position, then slowly poured the potion over the stain.

Where the potion touched, the shirt returned to its original forest green. Even after several years of living mostly in the wizarding world, displays of magic like this one still managed to awe Harry. If only because Harry could remember scrubbing at those stains when they had been fresh, and failing miserably. which was how the shirt came to be in his possession.

“Fine,” Hermione said to Eli, “you could probably brew Felix Felicis. Ron, come with me, I wanted to ask that portrait about how she came to be stuck.”

Then she turned on her heel and stalked out of the lab.

“Good job, mate,” Ron said hurriedly as he rushed after Hermione.

Luna followed after both of them at a more sedate pace. “I would like to hear about the portrait too,” she said serenely.

Harry glanced into the cauldron and saw that there was still a lot of the potion left. “Does anyone else have stains to get rid of?”

Eli, Ginny, and Neville all shook their heads.

“Mum tends to cut up anything stained too badly to be cleaned to be used in her quilts,” Ginny said.

Harry paused briefly to see if anyone else would say anything, when they didn’t, he said, “Do you mind if I use the rest of this then? I have a couple other shirts like this.”

“If you don’t, I’ll probably just throw it out anyways,” Eli said.

“Hey Dobby, would you mind getting the rest of Dudley’s shirts?” Harry asked. He was excited to have a chance to have clothes that were at least stain free.

Dobby snapped his fingers, and all the shirts appeared in Harry’s lap.

"Dobby had to first retrieve one shirt before Dobby could summon shirts for Harry Potter," Dobby explained when Harry gave him a confused look.

“Oh, well, thank you,” Harry said, and then began to remove the stains with the potion.

“Well, we know that we have someone with the ability to brew Felix Felicis,” Neville said thoughtfully. “Now we just need the money to buy the ingredients.”

“Well, I won’t be able to help much with that. We don’t even have a valuables to sell off, sadly,” Ginny said with a bit of a laugh. “Of course, if we did, Fred and George would probably have destroyed everything by now, so the outcome would probably be the same either way.”

Valuables. “Grimmauld Place!” Harry exclaimed. His hands were still full of his clothes that he was removing the stains from, so he glanced at Dobby awkwardly over his shoulder and said, “Could you go to Grimmauld Place and bring back everything with monetary value? And, uh, put it in the room where Ron, Hermione, and Luna are talking to the portrait of Amanda.”

Dobby nodded enthusiastically and hugged Harry around the knees again before he departed.

To Eli, Neville, and Ginny, Harry said, “I inherited Grimmauld Place from Sirius, and it’s filled with useless heirlooms that we could sell.”

Harry pushed all the emotions that thinking of Grimmauld Place brought up way back down for now. He definitely did not want to have a breakdown in front of his friends; they'd just be worried, and there was nothing they could do to make it better anyways.

“Oh, are you sure you want to do that, Harry? Those are your things,” Ginny said.

Harry shrugged. “It’s not like Sirius cared about them, and we can sort through them to make sure we don’t get rid of anything important.” He glanced down and saw that he was done removing the stains from the shirts, so he started folding them.

“Well, we should probably go back to that room if Dobby is going to be delivering the things there,” Eli said.

“Right,” Harry said, he looked at the pile of stain-free shirts and shoved them all in his bag, “let’s go then.”

When Harry pushed open the door to Amanda’s room, it opened to an entirely different environment than it had been when they’d left. There were now piles of heirlooms and valuables on every available flat surface. Oddly, everyone who was supposed to be here, including Amanda, was gone now.

Except for Ron, apparently, because in the next moment Harry saw the very top of Ron’s ginger hair peeking out from behind an overloaded armchair.

“Hey Ron, where’d everyone go? And what’re you doing?” Harry asked curiously.

Ron sat up in shock, whipping his head around until he caught sight of Harry. Then he made steady eye contact and said, “Oh, uh, Hermione was able to free Amanda in a jiffy once she knew what was wrong, and now they’re all off looking for Amanda’s friend, who is also trapped in a painting somehow,” he shrugged skeptically. Then he grinned broadly as he said, “And I’m currently looking through all this expensive stuff that just appeared out of nowhere! Man I love Hogwarts-“

“You’re so stupid,” Ginny said as she nudged him with her foot. She had walked over while Ron was talking.

“No, you’re stupid,” Ron immediately said back, tossing something small from the pile in front of him at her.

Ginny stuck her tongue out at him, easily caught the item, and dropped it back onto Ron’s head. “And stop playing around! This is Harry’s stuff.”

“How was I supposed to know that?” Ron protested. “It all just started appearing out of nowhere!”

“Guys, it’s fine, nothing was damaged and we’re-”

Harry was interrupted by the sudden pop of apparition and the appearance of two loudly fighting house elves.

“Dobby was told to bring all the valuables from Master Harry Potter sir’s house!” Dobby squeaked angrily as he tugged on a chain of some kind. Kreacher was holding tight to the other end, and he didn’t budge at all when Dobby tugged on the chain.

“This is Master Regulus’s locket, and Kreacher won’t let the nasty brat get his hands on it, no Kreacher won’t,” Kreacher said angrily, and with that last word he gave a yank on the locket.

Instead of resisting the pull, though, Dobby must have leaned into it, because he then collided violently with Kreacher. Kreacher fell to the ground, and Dobby quickly scrambled to his feet, taking advantage of Kreacher’s brief moment of shock to yank the locket out of his hands.

Dobby quickly ran over to Harry and shoved the locket into Harry’s hands. “Dobby has put all the valuables Dobby could find at Master Harry Potter Sir’s house in this room!” he said, a little breathlessly.

Harry stared bemusedly at the locket, then at Dobby who was smiling up at him, then at Kreacher, who had now climbed to his feet and was glaring angrily at both Harry and Dobby.

“That is Master Regulus’s,” Kreacher said, and stamped his foot on the ground. Under his breath, he muttered, “Not nasty half-blood master’s, no, not at all.”

“Kreacher is a bad elf! Kreacher should not speak of Master Harry Potter sir like that!” Dobby said, then looked anxiously at Harry. “Dobby has to go dust furniture, but once Dobby is done doing that, Dobby can deal with Kreacher?”

“Uh,” Harry said, “that’s alright, I’m sure we’ll be okay. Thank you for the help.”

Harry couldn’t quite imagine what Dobby’s idea of dealing with Kreacher would entail, but given the things he’d tried to inflict on himself back in Harry’s second year, he could only assume that Dobby meant something violent. As furious as he was with Kreacher, the thought of actually hurting Kreacher was unthinkable to him.

“Master Harry Potter sir is too kind,” Dobby said happily, and then hugged Harry around the knees before he apparated away.

Harry was still holding the locket. He looked around the room at all the piles of accumulated heirlooms, and then back at Kreacher, who only had eyes for the locket in Harry’s hand. “What is it about this locket that’s so special? There must be other things of this ‘Regulus’s’ here too, but you’re not fighting over anything else,” Harry said.

Kreacher huffed and shook his head.

“Mate, you have to order him to tell you. Remember? He’s an asshole. And, like, should you be holding that? If Kreacher likes it, it’s probably evil, or at least dangerous,” Ron said.

Harry did think that the locket had a malevolent feel to it, but he was also reluctant to set it down, because he suspected that the only reason he was still holding it was because Kreacher couldn’t simply attack him to retrieve it. “I’m not setting it down till Kreacher tells me what’s so important about it,” Harry said to Ron. Then to Kreacher, he said, “I order you to tell me everything you know about this locket.”

He hoped that was enough to make sure Kreacher couldn’t hold back information, but he was pretty sure it wouldn’t be. He already knew all too well just how good Kreacher was at interpreting orders as he wished.

Harry half-wished Hermione was here to help word the questions, but the other half of him knew she wouldn’t be happy about him upsetting Kreacher like this. But he agreed with Ron- the locket was probably dangerous, and not something he should just let Kreacher have. Especially since Kreacher would probably run off with the locket as soon as he got his hands on it, and the task of getting Kreacher back to question him further would be annoying.

And Harry had a gut feeling that they needed to know the story behind the locket.

Kreacher muttered indistinctly under his breath then said, “The locket is gold and imprinted with emeralds in the shape of a snake curled into an ‘S’.”

Harry groaned; he should have known it wouldn’t be that easy.

Eli had come forward to stand next to Harry. “Ask him how and where this ‘Regulus’ got the locket,” he said quietly to Harry, not breaking eye contact with Kreacher.

Harry wondered how Eli knew the right way to question Kreacher, but he set that aside for later in favor of repeating the question to Kreacher.

Kreacher started rocking back and forth on his feet,grabbing his ears, twisting them in as he rocked. Just when Harry thought he was going to have to add ‘and that’s an order’ or something similar, Kreacher burst out, “Master Regulus was a proper son of the House of Black. He talked for years of the Dark Lord and the good work he was doing.”

Harry’s jaw fell slightly open in shock, but he quickly closed it and refocused on Kreacher, waiting to hear how this related to the locket.

“Then one day, a year after he became a Death Eater, Master Regulus came down to the kitchen to see Kreacher. Master Regulus had always liked Kreacher and the Dark Lord had required an elf. And Master Regulus had volunteered Kreacher for this honour.”

It was a struggle for Harry to not interrupt with a million questions, but he held his silence. He had a feeling that if he interrupted Kreacher now, he would break the flow of the story now flowing out from him, and it would be difficult, if not impossible, to get him to resume it.

“Before Kreacher left to go to the Dark Lord, Master Regulus told Kreacher to be sure to obey the Dark Lord and to do anything he said. And then, he ordered Kreacher to come home afterwards. Then Kreacher went to the Dark Lord and the Dark Lord didn’t tell Kreacher anything and took Kreacher to a cave beside the sea. And beyond the cave there was a cavern, and in the cavern was a great black lake.

“There was a boat that carried the Dark Lord and Kreacher to a rock in the middle of the lake. On a pedestal in the center of the lake was a basin full of p-potion. The D-Dark Lord made Kreacher drink it all. Kreacher drank and drank and it burned and it made Kreacher see terrible things. Kreacher cried out for Master Regulus and the Dark Lord laughed and laughed and laughed at Kreacher.”

Harry shuddered. He knew the laugh Kreacher was talking about- his nightmares echoed with it.

“When the potion was gone, the Dark Lord put the locket into the basin. Then the Dark Lord filled the basin with more potion and sailed away. Kreacher needed water. Kreacher needed water so desperately that Kreacher crawled to the lake and drank the water. And hands, dead hands, came out of the water and dragged Kreacher under the surface...”

“How did you get away?” Harry asked, in a horrified whisper, unable to help himself.

Kreacher raised his head and met Harry’s gaze with his large, bloodshot eyes.

“Master Regulus told Kreacher to come back,” he said, as though it were obvious. “And when Kreacher got back, Master Regulus was very worried about Kreacher. Very worried. Master Regulus told Kreacher to stay hidden and disappeared. Later, Master Regulus came back and seemed very strange. Very strange. And Master Regulus told Kreacher to take him to where Kreacher had gone with the Dark Lord.”

Harry was glad that he hadn’t stopped the flow of the story with his interruption, and was once again riveted and anxious to find out what happened next.

“So Kreacher did. Master Regulus gave Kreacher another locket, just like the one the Dark Lord put in the basin. And Master Regulus told Kreacher to put it in the basin, once it was empty. And to make sure Master Regulus drank all of the potion in the basin.”

Kreacher took in a deep, shuddering breath, as though he was about to dive underwater, and then plunged ahead, continuing his story.

“And he ordered — Kreacher to leave — without him. And he told Kreacher — to go home — and never to tell my Mistress — what he had done — but to destroy — the first locket. And he drank — all the potion — and Kreacher swapped the lockets — and watched . . . as Master Regulus . . . was dragged beneath the water . . . and . . .”

“Stop! Stop Kreacher,” Ginny interrupted, sounding choked up.

Harry jerked his head in a single nod and said, “That’s enough Kreacher, thank you…” he trailed off as Kreacher heaved a sob.

“Kreacher should not be thanked. Kreacher failed Master Regulus. Kreacher is a bad elf.”

Harry could only imagine what kind of evil things Voldemort could have done to the locket, and he certainly didn’t want to try and sell it to someone who could trigger some kind of latent trap and possibly get hurt.

“What have you tried to destroy it with?” Harry asked.

“Everything Kreacher could think of,” Kreacher said desperately.

“Like– what though?” Ginny asked. “Because we could have some ideas that you haven’t tried yet.”

Kreacher gave Ginny a baleful look, but complied anyways. Harry thought that he was desperate enough to destroy the locket that he was willing to talk with them.

“Kreacher smashed it with rocks as large as dragons, Kreacher dropped into a volcano at the center of the Earth, Kreacher dropped it from the greatest heights imaginable, Kreacher dropped it into a vat of the most noxious substances, Kreacher sawed at it with dark knives,” Kreacher rattled off, pausing as he ran out of breath.

Ginny said, “Huh,” sounding faintly impressed.

Harry turned the locket over in his hand. It was clearly unmarked, despite all Kreacher’s efforts to destroy it. Harry had no idea how they were supposed to manage this.

“Wait,” Ron said, “did you try stabbing it with a basilisk fang? Because that worked really well with the other undamageable dark artifact we ran into, right Harry?”

Harry hit his face with his free palm.

“Kreacher has never had a basilisk fang to try with,” Kreacher said, perking up a little. “Is there a basilisk fang here?”

“There is in the Chamber of Secrets. Can you go there and bring back a basilisk fang, if I describe where the Chamber is?” Harry asked.

Kreacher nodded.

“It’s under the dungeons, but we access it through a sink in the second floor girls lavatory. There’s a snake on the tap that causes a corridor to appear that leads beneath the school. Once there, it’s pretty straightforward to follow the pipes, past the cave-in, to the chamber where the basilisk’s corpse is. Is that enough for you to find it?” Harry asked. He wasn’t sure what else he could say to help Kreacher locate it, so he certainly hoped it was.

Kreacher nodded again, then disapparated without a word.

“What the hell,” Eli said flatly.

“Uh,” Harry said, and exchanged glances with Ron and Ginny.

“I don’t even know where to begin asking questions,” Eli continued. “There’s just too much I don’t know.”

Harry realized then that Eli had only found out who Voldemort was a couple days ago. And here he was, embroiled in something he never even asked to be a part of, just because he had known a good place to meet. It had already been nice enough of Eli to show them a place to meet, but he’d also stayed for the meeting when he probably had better things to do.

And then, when Hermione had challenged him to prove his brewing skills, he’d seemed happy to rise to the challenge, even though the context of the challenge was that he’d be the one to brew Felix Felicis.

Kreacher’s story had been pretty harrowing to listen to, and Eli hadn’t had an opportunity to opt out of hearing it. Harry felt a brief pull of guilt before he did his best to shake it off and respond to Eli.

“Does it help if I clarify that the ‘Dark Lord’ Kreacher mentioned is Voldemort, the one I told you about the other day?” Harry asked tentatively.

“A little, but, I don’t even know,” Eli said.

“Well, uh,” Harry said, not sure where he was going with this yet, “you know the DA, well, a lot of our mission is to teach people how to protect themselves from Voldemort and, uh, this thing with Kreacher wasn’t planned, but if you don’t want to be this involved with the club, or, like, with fighting Voldemort, then please don’t feel pressured to stay.”

Harry hoped that was coherent enough.

Eli frowned slightly and looked around the room, first at the piles around the room, and then at Harry, Ron, and Ginny in turn.

Harry shifted uneasily; he hoped Eli would choose to stay with them. He seemed nice, not to mention very talented at potions, which could come in handy. And if he wasn’t eligible for NEWT-level Defense, then he could probably benefit from the defense lessons, even though Harry was the one giving them.

Then Eli said, “I think, if you’ll have me, I’d like to help out?”

Harry gave him a wide smile and said, “We’re happy to have y–”

Then Kreacher reappeared, holding a basilisk fang gingerly by the root, thus interrupting Harry.

Harry heard Eli mutter, again, “What the hell.”

It took Harry a moment to switch gears back to what they had been doing before Kreacher had left, but once he remembered, he said, “Great! Now we just need a flat surface to set it on and to open it.”

“Oh no,” Kreacher moaned, “Kreacher could never open it either.”

“Really?” Harry asked. He focused his attention on the locket he was still, probably somewhat ill-advisedly, holding and began to try and open it. Like Kreacher had said, it refused to budge. Harry turned it over again and stared at the snake on the front of the locket. “Do you think Parseltongue would work?”

“That was hissing, mate,” Ron said.

That was probably as good a sign as any that it required Parseltongue to open. Thinking back to the chamber, Harry hissed, “Open.”

The locket sprung open and Harry caught sight of a pair of malevolent eyes in the panes of the locket before he slammed it onto the ground, holding it open in place. “Kreacher!” he called, frantically.

Then a voice hissed from out of the locket.

“I have seen your failures, and you are worth nothing.”

Kreacher screeched a blood-curdling war cry and launched himself at the locket, the business end of the fang first. Harry flung himself out of the way as Kreacher planted the fang first in the eye in the left pane, then in the eye in the right one.

There was a dwindling scream from the locket that quickly petered out.

In the aftermath, all Harry could hear was Kreacher’s harsh breathing. Harry was seated on the floor, a meter or two away from Kreacher, his hands and feet planted on the ground for stability. Kreacher was now kneeling over the shattered locket, still clutching the fang. A quick glance over Harry’s shoulder told him that Ron, Ginny, and Eli were staring at both Kreacher and the locket in shock.

Then Kreacher got to his feet and triumphantly said, “Kreacher did it! Kreacher destroyed the Dark Lord’s locket!”

Harry also got to his feet, but he still didn’t quite know what to say. He honestly didn’t even really know what was going on, everything had happened so quickly. One moment they were getting ready to sort through piles of stuff for things to sell, and then they had been destroying something that had belonged to Voldemort.

He turned around to share a bewildered look with the others, just in time to see the door open.

Harry was going to get whiplash if things kept happening this quickly.

Hermione stepped through the opening and said, “We’re back! How’s… everything…” Then she trailed off as she took in the scene in front of her.

Harry could only imagine what it looked like to her. The piles of clutter, Kreacher still holding the basilisk fang aloft, the smashed locket on the ground. It must have been quite the scene.

Luna pushed her way around Hermione and into the room. She took a moment to look around and then she said, “Oh my, Amanda won’t like this.”

They really had destroyed Amanda’s peaceful, orderly room in no time at all. There were several of them though, so if everyone agreed to help and they all worked quickly, it shouldn’t take too long to get through everything.

To the room at large, since Harry didn’t want to assume anyone would be willing to do work, Harry said, “Would you guys mind helping sort through everything? It’ll go much faster with everyone helping out, and we can catch you up on everything that’s happened once we’ve got the room back to normal.”

Harry was incredibly relieved when there was a chorus of agreement.

“Alright then, can everyone split up? We’re looking for anything with value that we can sell. Kreacher, will you take everything we don’t want back to Grimmauld Place? You can do what you want with it from there.”

“Kreacher can do that for Master Harry,” Kreacher said reluctantly, finally lowering the arm holding the basilisk fang aloft. He cleaned the fang and slipped it into his tattered pillowcase, then vanished the destroyed locket.

Everyone else in the room spread out to start going through the piles of stuff. Before Harry got started, though, he asked Kreacher, “Can you get that locket back if we need it? I might need to show it to Dumbledore at some point.”

Kreacher said, “Of course Kreacher can get it back. Kreacher was just cleaning the mess.”

“Oh, well, thank you,” Harry said, and turned to a nearby pile to begin sorting for expensive-looking things.

With all six of them sorting, they were quickly able to reduce the numerous sprawling piles to a single pile in the middle of the room that was composed of only the most expensive things. Dobby had been very helpful, but didn’t have a good eye for what was valuable and what was not.

Kreacher had also, shockingly, been helpful, walking around and giving advice on what to do with what, then sending the discarded things back to Grimmauld Place. Every time he sent something back, he became briefly more enthused, but every time they decided to keep something to sell, he grimaced and lost some of his enthusiasm.

Harry added this to his growing list of things to worry about later.

Despite this, he was still like an entirely new elf, and it was pretty obvious why. Kreacher must have been tormented all these years by his inability to destroy the locket. All that on top of being forced to witness someone that he actually seemed to like die in what sounded like a horrible way, it was no wonder he’d become twisted and bitter in his grief.

But now that Kreacher was free of his last order from Regulus, maybe he’d be happier. Harry hoped he would be, at least.

Maybe Harry ought to try and get rid of the portrait of Walburga Black, just to make sure she didn’t keep messing with Kreacher. He’d have to try and remember for the next time he went to Grimmauld Place.

They were down to a single pile left in the corner of the room, when an unfamiliar voice said, “Ha! Your room is definitely worse than mine was! Look at all that clutter!”

Harry turned and saw that not only was Amanda back, but she had brought someone else along with her. The friend was the one who’d spoken, and she was dressed similarly to Amanda in that she was wearing a fitted man’s suit, only it was in a warm brown tone, where Amanda’s had been charcoal. Also like Amanda, she was wearing spectacles, but that was where the similarities ended.

Amanda was standing in shock, her eyes flickering as she glanced at each out of place item in turn. Harry shifted guiltily; he’d hoped to have everything out of here before she returned, since he’d forgotten to ask her permission to do this in here.

“We’ll have all this stuff out of here really soon,” he promised her.

Amanda’s gaze landed on Harry, and it sharpened in anger up until he took half a step back from her. Then her look shifted to something softer and she said, in a gentler tone than Harry had expected, “Please make sure you do.”

Harry knew he’d just be crowding the others if he went over to join them in sorting, so he asked Amanda, partially to distract her and partially out of genuine interest, “And who’s your friend?”

“I am Hannah Nettle, and I can introduce myself,” said the other portrait primly, and then she stuck out her hand.

Amanda smacked at Hannah’s hand and said, “You idiot, we’re in a portrait, we can’t shake hands.”

“Right, right. Sorry, it’s a reflex,” Hannah said. “It’s just been so long since I’ve talked to anyone at all. I was in the Potions classroom until Slughorn retired and Snape redecorated. Then I ended up stuck in a storage closet for decades!” she concluded, sounding very offended.

“So, did the same person who painted you paint Amanda, then? Because you were both stuck in your frames?” Harry said curiously.

Amanda and Hannah exchanged an amused glance.

“We painted each other,” Amanda said.

Hannah added, “And neither of us knew how to do the spell to let us connect with the other Hogwarts portraits, so we were stuck in our frames. I still cannot believe the goddamned spell was right there in Hogwarts, A History! Nobody reads Hogwarts, A History.”

“Nobody except our new favorite person, Hermione,” Amanda said.

Hermione perked up from where she was finishing off the last piles. She walked towards them, an armload of heirlooms in her arms, and set the items down in the main pile of things to keep.

“I heard my name?” she said.

Amanda said, “We were just talking about how you freed us.”

“Ah, it was nothing. Just a spell I’d seen in Hogwarts, a History,” Hermione said.

Harry rolled his eyes. Hermione truly loved that book.

“That’s it!” Ron declared from the center of the room.

Harry turned to see, and Ron was right. The only heirlooms left were in the pile in the center of the room.

Harry honestly had no idea what to do with all the heirlooms now that they were done. He hadn’t thought this far ahead. They definitely couldn’t leave them here, but Harry didn’t know how to go about selling things like family heirlooms.

“Ah- Kreacher? Could you put this stuff somewhere separate from the rest of the things at Grimmauld Place?” Harry asked.

“Kreacher can,” Kreacher said, and vanished with the pile. He was still hesitant, but he did it.

To the others Harry said, “We’ll have to figure out how to sell everything some other time.” He cast Tempus and saw that it was getting close to curfew. “We probably ought to head to the common room.”

The others agreed and began to file out of the room.

Before he left, Harry said, “It was nice to meet you both, Amanda and Hannah.”

“Maybe we’ll see you around the castle, now,” Amanda said, and Hannah waved at him.

Harry slipped out of the room and gently closed the door behind him. The others were all deep in conversation and heading down the corridor. Ron was talking with Eli, probably about all the questions Eli had had earlier, and Ginny was saying something to a riveted Hermione and Luna, probably a recap of what they’d missed.

Harry quietly fell into step behind them, perfectly happy to be left out of the conversation. He had plenty to think about, after the chaos of the evening. So much of it seemed to come back to his second year and the events in and around the Chamber of Secrets.

Down in the chamber, the diary had nearly succeeded in forming a new body by pulling strength from Ginny’s soul. And Harry thought that he remembered the diary, Tom Riddle, specifically saying that he had put his own soul back into Ginny. That meant that part of Tom Riddle’s soul had initially been in the diary.

And Tom Riddle had also confirmed that he was one and the same as Voldemort.

Both the locket and the diary had belonged to Voldemort, and the locket had also shown some degree of sentience– it had spoken to Kreacher before he destroyed it, and Harry had seen a pair of eyes in the panes of the locket when he had opened it.

The locket must then be another piece of Voldemort’s soul. Harry couldn’t fathom why Riddle would have wanted to tear his soul up, or how many times he had done it, or how he had even stored pieces of his soul into objects, but it was obvious to Harry that the soul pieces had to be destroyed. He resolved to ask Dumbledore about the locket and the diary when the Headmaster came back to Hogwarts.

Harry took a deep breath and then released it, trying to calm himself. Hopefully Dumbledore would know more, and more importantly, be willing to tell Harry about everything. Because Harry still did not trust Dumbledore to be entirely open with him. Especially not now that he had disappeared without a single word to Harry since the scene in his office after Sirius died.

But there wasn’t anyone else Harry could trust with this, so he resigned himself to waiting until Dumbledore was back to learn more about what Voldemort had done.

Because Harry knew, in an instinctive gut-feeling kind of way, that the knowledge of what Riddle had done lay behind one of the few doors that were sealed against Harry’s wanderings through Voldemort’s mind. And even Harry wasn’t reckless enough to try battering one down. He was far too worried about what would happen if Voldemort realized he was there to try something that risky.

As this train of thought ended, Harry’s thoughts refocused on his friends and the hallway around him. He was happy to have this chance to simply exist in the company of his friends for a little while, leaving behind his worrying thoughts of the war and Riddle’s mind.

That night Severus lay in his bed, still processing all the events of the evening. This was the first chance to really think that he’d gotten all entire evening. Everything from when he’d shown Harry and his friends to Amanda’s room, up to the moment when he’d finally gotten to lie down in his bed with the curtains firmly shut, had been practically non-stop motion.

First, Longbottom had brought up the topic of Felix Felicis. And Severus had known almost immediately that he would have to become more directly involved. For the first time though, Severus had had the option to not do the brewing. No one knew that he was as good at brewing as he was, and he could easily have gotten away with feigning ignorance and simply not participating.

And it was, perhaps, for that very reason that Severus had been so eager to volunteer.

He had also assumed that since Harry was the Potter and Black heir, he’d easily be able to put forth the money for the ingredients. And a significant part of Severus had gotten excited for the chance to brew Felix Felicis, specifically. This would be the first time he’d ever had the resources—monetary, temporal, and motivational—to go through with this laborious potion.

Then Granger had demanded that Eli prove his brewing skills, and Severus had known it was a bit ridiculous for him to be so smug about being better at brewing than a group of teenagers half his proper age. But the moment he’d finished the potion and known, as he always did, that it was perfect, was truly exquisite, he couldn’t help but feel proud.

Remembering the moment he had finished the potion, however, also reminded him of the odd scene with Harry and the stained clothes.

Severus now acknowledged that Harry hadn’t been raised like James Potter, that he’d grown up in the muggle world. And this did explain why Harry was more likely to have stained clothing than the others. Except for Granger, who had also grown up in the muggle world, but Severus got the feeling that she was fastidious enough to not stain her clothing too often.

So having a stained shirt or two on hand would have been perfectly reasonable, only then Harry had asked for the rest of the potion to use on even more shirts, if they could have even been called that.

Because the shirts that the house elf had retrieved would be more accurately labelled as rags. Severus was perplexed as to why Harry even owned them. Between the Potter and the Black fortunes, and Harry’s obvious willingness to donate copious amounts of Black heirlooms to the Felix Felicis fund, there was no way that Harry was strained enough for money to justify wearing rags.

Then Severus’s thoughts turned to the next part of the evening. When they had returned to Amanda’s room, Severus had been mildly disgusted by the piles of things cluttering the room. This had been tempered, somewhat, by the knowledge that it was there to be sorted through and sold, but it had been an aggravating reminder of the silver spoon Sirius Black had had in his mouth growing up.

And then Dobby and Kreacher had appeared, fighting over one artifact in particular. Initially, Severus had merely been irritated at the disruption. But then his interest had been piqued by Kreacher’s declaration that the locket had belonged to ‘Master Regulus’.

Regulus had been in Slytherin in the year below Severus, and nothing at all like his brother. He’d been as much of a Dark Arts fanatic as anyone would expect a son of Walburga Black to be and had accordingly become a Death Eater not long after Severus himself.

So when Kreacher had chosen this particular locket, of all the heirlooms, to save, well, Severus had been curious.

Then Harry had quickly proven his inexperience with interrogation, because his first question had had a loophole a kilometer wide in it, and Kreacher had taken obvious advantage of that fact. Since Severus’s curiosity had been piqued, he had decided to feed Harry questions to ask Kreacher, to make sure they obtained the information they wanted without having to endure hours of gradually more specific questions.

However, he had not expected his first question to cause Kreacher to spill the entire story. But it seemed as though once Kreacher had started, he had been unable to stop until everything was all out in the open.

And what a story it had been.

When Severus had gotten up that morning, he had not expected to witness the destruction of one of the Dark Lord’s horcruxes.

But that was clearly what the locket was. It had been placed, from what Severus could tell from just Kreacher’s descriptions, behind intense protections crafted by the Dark Lord himself. Severus had seen the eyes in the locket panes, and that, combined with the sibilant voice, had forcefully reminded Severus of the Dark Lord. Specifically, the Dark Lord Severus had known during his first few years as a Death Eater.

Not the horrible snake-man hybrid the Dark Lord was now.

Rather, the still somewhat-handsome man the Dark Lord had been during the last few years of his first reign of terror. Severus rather spitefully enjoyed how hideous the Dark Lord was now, which was thanks to Pettigrew’s utter incompetence.

The Dark Lord really ought to have chosen someone better to carry through the resurrection. Severus was fully aware that the Dark Lord’s options had been limited, but relying on someone like Pettigrew for something as important as the resurrection ritual was its own sign of insanity.

And really, there were an awful lot of those signs.

Then Severus realized that he was able to think these thoughts without having to bury them almost immediately out of fear that the Dark Lord would call him.

The Dark Lord…

Why was Severus still calling him that, even in the sanctity of his own mind? The monster was certainly not a lord, and Severus was no longer subject to his mercy– so long as he stayed safely in Hogwarts, that is.

Voldemort.

There was a certain power in calling the monster by the name that would once have resulted in being subjected to the Cruciatus Curse.

And, Severus knew that both Dumbledore and Harry used the name, too. They would probably prefer it if Severus used it. And of course, it made no sense at all for Eli to call him anything but Voldemort, since that was what Harry had called him when he had given Eli his history lesson.

Severus had not expected, in the slightest, that spending time with Harry and his friends would lead to making an actual difference in the fight against Voldemort. But he had to admit that, even excluding this evening, Harry and his friends were making a fairly significant difference.

The DA meeting had been actually useful. Harry had taught the students a spell that could one day save their lives, and he had taught it in such a way that they stood a shot at remembering it. Severus certainly wasn’t going to forget the antics with the beach balls any time soon, and he doubted any of the children were going to either.

And then this evening had happened, and Severus was no longer as upset about being trapped with the Gryffindors as he had been. Because both the help he had given Harry in questioning Kreacher, and the help Severus had yet to give in the brewing of the Felix Felicis, felt more satisfying than anything else Severus had done in years.

Of course, Severus had spied for the Light, but while that was fulfilling, in some ways, as a way to atone for his mistakes, it was so fraught with danger and terror that it never quite managed to make him feel whole.

And now that Severus thought about it like that, he realized that helping Harry, beyond begrudgingly keeping him safe, was likely a far more effective way to pay his debt to Lily. She had been willing to die for her son, so she had probably been pissed at Severus’s inability to see her son for who he truly was.

Severus supposed that it was better that he saw Harry as a distinct individual now rather than later. He would have to make the most of these next couple weeks before he returned to his proper role. He’d do his best to help Harry with whatever mess the boy managed to trip himself into over the next couple weeks.

Because, knowing Harry, he would certainly manage to find his way into several messes with no effort at all. And, for the first time ever, Severus was perfectly positioned to not only protect him, but to actively assist him.

A small part of him wondered what he’d do once he was back to being “Snape” to Harry. Already, he was growing used to having the boy in his life, and he couldn’t imagine that Harry would ever want to stay in contact with him normally, let alone after discovering that Severus had been lying to him about his identity.

The betrayal alone of discovering that Eli was Severus would likely close Harry off to forming any new relationships. Severus, being the person responsible for the betrayal, would have no hope at all of any relationship beyond being the boy’s Potions professor.

That was— if Harry ever found out that Eli was Severus. Because, really, why did he ever have to know?

Albus paused to catch his breath. He was currently trekking to the old Gaunt house on his hunch that Tom had hidden one of his horcruxes there. Unfortunately, it was definitely worth it to make the trek, despite the pain the long and winding path posed for his old bones.

He rested his palm on the trunk of a nearby tree and spread his awareness through the roots of both the tree and its neighbors until he had a clear picture of the area. This confirmed that there were no other humans in the area and no traps beyond the magical ones he’d already sensed.

When Albus had been planning his Horcrux Hunt, he had initially planned to pursue the Gaunt ring first, but after further consideration had decided to begin with Hufflepuff’s Cup. His influence was dwindling across the board, and he strongly suspected he would need as much of it as possible to obtain the cup.

And he had been right– the cup had been in the Lestrange’s vault at Gringotts. The goblins had resisted his requests for access all summer and he had finally managed to pull together some of his lingering influence to call in a few favors with the Goblin Liaison Office.

With the favors, he had been able to quietly force the goblins to relinquish the cup. He’d promptly taken the cup back to his office and destroyed it with the Sword of Gryffindor.

After he’d left his office, he had been informed that Severus’s cover was blown. He’d gone to visit Severus in the hospital wing and been relieved to find that Severus was now recovering, mostly unharmed thanks to the prompt activation of the experimental portkey Albus had designed to sense Tom’s feelings towards Severus. It had been intended to take Severus to safety if his status as a spy was exposed, and it had worked, leaving Albus free to plan for the future.

Now, Albus had kept a vague contingency plan for this possibility, and had gleefully set to putting it into motion. Everything had fallen into place just a couple of days before the students had arrived.

Once Severus had been settled in as Eli– and more importantly, Albus had derived all the enjoyment he could from watching Severus’s worldview shift- Albus had informed Minerva of his imminent departure, and then set out to finish tracking down the Gaunt ring.

Albus had been deep in archives when he’d felt Hogwarts’s wards react to dark magic. When the wards had gone off, Albus had been nearly done, so he’d taken the time to finish what he was doing before apparating directly to the source of the dark magic.

He arrived in one of the abandoned classrooms on the first floor. A quick survey revealed no damage and nothing out of place. He had noticed a portrait of two young women, though, so Albus had strode up to them and asked pleasantly, “Excuse me, did you happen to see anything unusual? It would have been half an hour ago, at most.”

The woman on the left had rolled her eyes and said, “No.”

So Albus had shifted his gaze to the woman on the right and raised an eyebrow. But she shook her head at him, so Albus had said, “Alright, well, if you happen to remember anything, do let me know.”

Albus had then retreated from the room, and as he left, he’d heard one of the women say to her companion, “His name is truly Dumbledore for a reason, isn’t it?”

The other woman had shushed her friend, and Albus had chuckled to himself as he apparated away.

Disrespectful portraits aside, Albus had found no evidence of dark magic.Without that, there was little he could do. If someone had witnessed the event, they would hopefully report it to Minerva, who was more than capable of handling the situation.

Aside from that interruption, Albus had been able to locate the Gaunt ring with minimal difficulties. He’d already known where the Gaunt shack was, he’d just needed to do some research to confirm that the ring was likely still there.

Which led Albus to where he was now, trekking through the woods on a Saturday afternoon.

Objectively, Albus knew why he had to approach on foot– Tom had warded the entire area against magical transportation, and muggle methods weren’t easily accessible for Albus.

As he approached the shack, the protections began to increase in intensity, and he had to focus his power and talents toward circumnavigating them. Were it not for the need for secrecy, Albus could easily have torn through all the wards and apparated directly to his destination, but it was exceedingly important to keep Tom in the dark regarding the danger his horcruxes were in.

And, Albus finally acknowledged to himself, the more secrecy surrounding this endeavor, the better, because he suspected that this ring was more than just a horcrux. He had long suspected that it was also a Hallow, meaning it would be catastrophic if any Hallows hunters caught wind of it.

Albus tucked his hope that the ring would be a Hallow back into a corner of his mind. He needed to focus on the task at hand, especially now that he had arrived at the door to the shack. As flimsy as it looked, Albus knew that this would be where the most dangerous protections lay.

Raising the Elder Wand, he began to unravel the wards around the door. He made steady progress until he triggered an outpouring of snakes from both beneath the shack, and also from the woods around him. Albus suspected it was a Parseltongue ward since it had slipped his notice. Then he spun in a circle, transfiguring the snakes into pieces of hot pink yarn.

Once he was done, Albus paused to refocus. It had been pure luck that he’d only triggered a simple ward and not an alarm.

And he couldn’t afford to rely on luck.

Thankfully, he managed to get through the rest of the exterior protections without mishap. The interior of the shack was just as dilapidated as the exterior suggested it to be, and more or less the same as it had been when Bob Ogden had been here.

Albus advanced slowly through the shack, sure that the ring would be far back, thus forcing him to fight his way through as many protections as possible.

But as Albus broke through a ward to the halfway point of the shack, he felt the weight of the protections lift at the same moment he saw the ring, and the mark of the Hallows clearly printed on the stone. Immediately forgetting the danger he was in, Albus plucked the ring off the ground and placed it on his finger, overwhelmed with the need to know who had cast the fatal curse on his sister.

Then Albus screamed.

Through the pain, he yanked the ring off, and surrounded it with his own wards. Then he dropped it into a heavily protected pouch he’d brought with him. Then he took the blinding pain and walled it off in his brain– a temporary measure to allow him to think clearly enough to get help.

Ability to think restored, Albus apparated away, directly to Alastor’s home. With Severus unavailable, Alastor was the best bet to combat the curse he could now feel eating away at the flesh on his hand.

When he coalesced into existence, he was barely able to convince his weakened body to dodge Alastor’s curse.

Albus held his hands up in supplication and said, “It’s me, Albus! I once, while inebriated, sang a wonderful karaoke rendition of My Heart Will Go On by Celine Dion.”

This was, apparently, sufficient to halt the onslaught, because Alastor then lowered his wand slightly.

“I need your help,” Albus said, twitching his injured hand; the withering had clearly spread to most of his hand by now.

Alastor grunted and walked towards Albus. He said, “I see that you still only visit when you need me.”

He began casting diagnostic charms on his hand. After several rounds of casting a charm, waiting a moment for the results, and then casting again, Alastor finally began to cast containment and purification charms on Albus’s hand.

Gradually, the spread of the withering began to slow and, ultimately, stop.

And as the withering stopped advancing, the pain that Albus had walled off in his mind began to push much less insistently against its bounds. He could now tell that if he removed the walls, the pain would be manageable, so he went ahead and did it. The exchange of pain for the ability to think more clearly was worth it.

“Thank you, Alastor,” he said to his friend. Alastor nodded and mock-saluted him from the seat he’d taken once he’d finished casting.

“Can’t believe you let a curse like that get to you,” Alastor said gruffly, which was his way of asking how Albus had really been cursed..

But Albus didn’t think it was time to share the whole story yet. So he said, “That’s a story for another time. I’m afraid I’ll have to leave now. I need to clear up the loose ends from this particular adventure, but I’ll regale you with all the details later.”

Both of Alastor’s eyes fixed on his for a moment, and then he said, “I’ll hold you to that.”

Albus smiled and said, “I’m sure you will.” Then he apparated away to his office in Hogwarts. When he arrived, he took a moment to lean against his desk. Then he shook himself off and collected the Sword of Gryffindor from its display case.

He removed the ring from his pouch, taking a moment to regretfully vanish any of his lemon drops that lingered at the bottom of it Then he set the ring down in the middle of his office floor. He walked around it in a circle several times, casting wards to contain the backlash from its destruction.

Once he was satisfied that his office was adequately protected, he sheathed his wand and grasped the hilt of the sword with both hands. He raised the sword and approached the ring slowly, alert for any signs of external influence on his mind.

It seemed the curse had been the Hail Mary of the ring’s protections, because Albus was able to approach the ring, swing the sword down with his full strength, and crack the stone off of the ring, all without any interference.

The moment that the stone was divorced from the ring, a hideous black vapor rose up and quickly dissipated against the wards Albus had set.

He smiled grimly and plucked the stone off the floor. As he took in the mark of the Hallows engraved on the surface, his hands started shaking slightly. The answer to the question that had haunted most of his adult life was within his grasp.

But as his still-aching hand came to the forefront of his mind, he stopped his hands mid rotation of the ring.

He was too much of a coward to face the possibility that it had been his hand responsible for his sister’s death. Ignorance was bliss, and Albus would prefer to keep his.

Albus closed his fist around the stone and then retrieved the rest of the ring from the floor. He made his way around his desk and sat down heavily, dropping the stone and the ring onto his desk.

He reclined in his chair, deep in thought.

Slowly, the pieces of a plan began to come together. He sat back up and nodded to himself. He would place the stone in the snitch that Harry caught in his first ever game of Quidditch, and he would also enchant it so it would open only when Harry inevitably walked to his possible death, determined to remove the horcrux that lived within him.

This decided, Albus pulled out a roll of parchment. He inked his quill and began to write, “The Last Will and Testament of Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore.”

Harry nodded along as Ron emphatically explained why he believed that this season would be the one where the Chudley Cannons finally won a match.

They were walking to the Room of Requirement with Eli, Hermione, Ginny, Luna, and Neville. The rest of the group had pulled ahead of Harry and Ron, because Ron’s insistence on gesturing as he talked had slowed them down, and no one else was interested enough in Ron’s Quidditch opinions to match his pace.

Harry was happy to listen, because he knew Ron cared a lot about what he was talking about. And, more selfishly, it was nice to have a break from his own thoughts. His past two nights had been spent wandering through Voldemort’s mind. Harry was still shaken and exhausted from having to face the horrors of Voldemort’s mind two nights in a row.

He had taken the opportunity to look for memories relating to the locket, but all that had resulted in was Harry witnessing the creation of a hoard of Inferi– a process so horrifying that when Harry had woken up, he’d barely had the energy to lean over the side of his bed before he’d lost his dinner. He desperately wished he could go back to the time before he had even known what Inferi were.

And the next night, he’d known he ought to try and keep digging around for more information related to the locket, but he hadn’t been able to stomach being trapped in the Inferi memory again, so he’d instead hid in a benign memory of Riddle studying.

Harry had woken up the next morning slightly better rested than the night before, but feeling guilty for wasting the opportunity to further the war effort.

It was now Saturday after lunch, the only time they were all simultaneously free, and they were headed to the Room of Requirement to practice some spells Harry was considering teaching to the DA.

Harry didn’t think it was time yet to admit that he had intimate knowledge of how Death Eaters fought and trained, and subsequently, knowledge of how best to fight them. The idea of it might make some of the students afraid of him. Mostly because it was difficult to believe, and could even reignite the rumors that Harry was insane. There could even be students with Death Eater ties that could leak information about what Harry was doing to Voldemort.

And Voldemort was smart enough everything together to figure out what Harry was doing– and that was the last thing Harry needed.

So for now, Harry planned to continue doing what he’d done at the first lesson: teach everyone spells that would be useful against Death Eaters, without sharing where he’d gotten the ideas.

The only problem was that Harry couldn’t easily gauge how difficult the spells he learned from Voldemort’s mind were, because whenever he experienced a spell being used, it became stored in his memory, and this memory of casting it was what enabled him to cast the spell correctly the first time, every time. So that’s why he had asked his friends to help him today– they’d be a good measure of whether a spell was reasonable to teach the club.

When Harry and Ron finally caught up to everyone, Neville was nearly done doing the honors of calling up the room. On Neville’s third time passing by the door, he suddenly faltered mid-step. Once he was done summoning the door, the door appeared, and then he said, “Ah crap, I had a stray thought about Felix Felicis, y’know, from the last time we were all together. Hope that didn’t mess up the room I was calling.”

“Guess there’s only one way to find out,” Ginny said.

Hermione shrugged and walked over to push the door open, “And if it’s not right, we can just all leave and try it again.”

Harry was the last one through the door, and since everyone filed in without saying anything, he assumed that the Room had been set up as they had wanted it to be. He had been behind Ron, but as soon as he managed to see around Ron and into the room beyond, he realized that he could not have been more wrong.

He stared around, numbly taking in the vast cavern containing massive piles of things that were so numerous they faded into the distance.

Then, after several more long moments of simply standing and staring, Harry’s eyes caught on what appeared to be a gold necklace tossed casually on a dresser. And he realized, now, what the Room had interpreted Neville’s stray thought as.

“Guess we didn’t need to sort through the stuff from Grimmauld Place,” Ron said faintly.

“Uh huh,” Harry agreed, walking over to get a better look at the necklace.

“So… is this stuff just… can we just take it?” Ginny said.

“Hey!” Neville exclaimed, clearly distracted from what Ginny had said. “I lost this book years ago… Gran was so mad at me...” He trailed off again.

“This must be some kind of lost and found,” Hermione said in amazement, still standing where she’d come to a stop at when she entered the room. “I guess… that means we can just take it? Some of this stuff looks like it’s been here for decades, if not centuries. I mean, look at those robes! They look like they’re from the 1800’s.”

Harry had been half listening as he picked up the necklace he’d spotted. And a closer inspection revealed little more than what he’d had already seen: it was a simple necklace that may or may not have been made out of gold.

“Hey Hermione, could you test this to see if it’s real gold?” Harry asked, holding it up for her to see.

Hermione finally shook off her own shock, threw a longing look at a pile of books, then made her way over to Harry. “Of course I can,” she said as she came up next to him. She took hold of the necklace with one hand and waved her wand with the other to cast, “Hoc Aurum.”

The necklace shone with a radiant light for a brief moment, then faded back to normal. Hermione raised her eyebrows in surprise and handed the necklace back to Harry. “That is some pure gold,” she said. And as she walked off to look through the pile of textbooks she’d eyed earlier, she said, “And it looks old enough that no one should miss it if we sell it.”

Harry nodded absently in agreement and turned to survey the piles more closely, searching for valuables amid all the seemingly worthless crap. He really did not have the knowledge or experience to actually find things to sell, let alone things that were old enough not to be missed. Then he remembered how helpful Kreacher had been in sorting through the things from Grimmauld Place, and how he hadn’t seemed pleased about the eventual loss of Black belongings.

“Kreacher!” Harry called out into the room. He heard his voice echo for a beat or two before the loud pop of Kreacher’s apparition drowned it out.

“Harry!” Hermione said, whirling around from the pile of textbooks she’d been going through.

Harry grimaced. He’d forgotten that Hermione was likely to object to him calling on Kreacher.

Kreacher said, “Master called?”

So Harry plunged ahead anyways and said, “Hey Kreacher, I was wondering if you could help us search this room for stuff to sell so we don’t have to sell the Black Family heirlooms.”

Hermione quietly said, “Oh.”

Harry hoped that meant she’d realized that Harry hadn’t just called Kreacher because Harry was lazy.

And Kreacher gave Harry a long, slow look before he said, “Kreacher would be happy to help you, sir.” He turned to the nearest pile and stared at it for a long moment before he turned back to Harry again. He said, “What should Kreacher do with the things to sell?”

Harry blinked. He hadn’t expected him to agree so easily, for some reason. Then Harry said, “Back to Grimmauld Place, if you think there’s room?”

Kreacher turned back to the pile.

“Oh, and Kreacher,” Harry said, causing Kreacher to turn back to him, “could you try and only take things that look like they’ve been here for a while? We think this is a lost and found, and don’t want to take things people could miss.”

“Kreacher can do that,” Kreacher said. Then he turned back to the pile once again.

As Harry watched, an item would occasionally disappear, sometimes causing the pile to shift.

Then, to his friends who were mostly still just looking around, Harry said, “I guess we can just spread out and keep an eye out for anything interesting.”

Hermione gave him a thumbs up from where she was still deep in a pile of textbooks, and everyone else began to fan out from the door. Harry flashed a smile at Hermione, then started taking his time to wind through the piles, occasionally casting the spell to detect if something was real gold.

“What do you think of this coat?” he heard Luna ask from somewhere in the room. Harry skirted around a particularly tall pile towards her voice, curious to see what she’d found. Once he’d gotten around the pile, he was able to see that Luna was modelling a massive dusty-looking fur coat for Ginny, who was a couple of piles over.

Harry quickly muffled a laugh with the back of his hand. The coat was so large on her that it crossed the line into comically large, but he didn’t want Luna to think he was laughing at her.

She looked over at him and gave him an airy smile, then turned back to Ginny.

As he turned back to look through the massive pile he’d skirted around, he heard Ginny say, “I think it’s very nice, but not very practical, tragically.”

Harry smiled and tugged a trunk out of the pile. He vaguely remembered that the nicer trunks could go for a lot of money, so he thought it was worth it to check it out.

He bent over and buried his head and arms in the trunk. He was looking for the bottom of the clearly-expanded trunk when Ron exclaimed, “Look at this!” Harry hurriedly pulled himself out of the trunk; Ron sounded close by, and it only took Harry a moment to find him.

Ron was holding up a set of bright, neon orange Quidditch robes. Harry’s jaw dropped. He couldn’t fathom how a set of Chudley Cannon Quidditch robes had found their way into the room, but there they were. And now Ron was pulling them over his head.

Once they were over his head, Ron’s head perked up and he swung his head around, clearly looking for someone. Then he spotted Harry and grinned. “Check it out! The robes fit,” he broke off, waving a hand completely enveloped in a sleeve and causing the sleeve to flop around a bit, “Well, mostly, anyways. I have to keep these!”

“That’s great, Ron!” Harry said and gave him a double thumbs up. Ron shoved the sleeves up to his elbows and returned the gesture. Then they both went back to searching through piles.

And so it went: occasionally, someone would exclaim over one find or another and someone else would respond, and then they’d all go back to the search.

They had been at it for quite a while when Luna said, from somewhere far away from Harry, “Oh my. I think this is Ravenclaw’s lost diadem.”

“Ravenclaw’s what?” Ron called from somewhere else. Harry started making his way over to Luna to see what she was talking about, and saw that the others had, too.

“There’s just no way Ravenclaw’s diadem, that’s been lost for centuries, just so happens to be right here,” Hermione said.

“This is the lost and found, though,” Ron said, also closing in on Luna.

“But it’s been lost for centuries,” Hermione insisted. “There’s no way it could’ve been right here at Hogwarts this whole time. There just isn’t.”

Neville said, “Ron’s right though. This is probably the lost and found, and it’s a founder’s lost diadem. It would make a lot of sense for it to be here, I think.”

They had all grouped together around Luna to get a look at the diadem. Harry thought it just looked like a tiara, but he supposed that a diadem must be another type of tiara, or something. Luna was holding it with both hands out in front of her, so they could all easily see the blue sapphire mounted in the middle. Harry thought there was an inscription on it too, but he couldn’t be sure what it said.

Then, a few moments after everyone got close enough to have had a good look at the diadem, Luna said, “I think I will try this on and see if it works like Ravenclaw’s diadem does.” Then she placed the diadem down on her head, as though she were crowning herself.

And as soon as she did, her posture went ramrod stiff. She surveyed the group of them gathered in front of her, rotating her head slowly, and when her eyes met Harry’s, he finally noticed that her eyes were large and scarlet, with only slits for pupils: exactly how Harry remembered Voldemort’s eyes to be.

Harry felt an icy thrill of fear run down his back.

When she finished surveying the group, her head straightened on her neck so she was looking straight ahead, off into the distance. In a distant and cold voice, she said, “I have seen all your minds, your hearts, and your souls. I know who you are and I know what you have done and I know what you will be.”

Then Luna made eye contact with Ginny, who was closest to her. Ginny leaned back slightly, her eyes still wide open with shock.

“You will never be free of me.”

Ginny staggered back a step and froze. Then a moment later, she narrowed her eyes at Luna and turned and ran towards the entrance to the room.

Luna’s voice had sounded nothing like her own. It was harsh and cruel and meant to hurt. Harry had never heard her sound like that before, and it sounded desperately wrong to be coming from her. But Harry was frozen. He had no plan of action, no idea of how to save Luna without hurting her. And he had no idea where Ginny had even gone.

Then Luna turned to Eli next and he merely stood there, unreactive.

“You will never do enough to be forgiven.”

Eli blinked slowly in response, but he otherwise did not respond.

Luna’s head turned– in stiff, stuttery jerks– to face Hermione.

Harry felt like he was watching this all play out on a television screen. It all felt so far away; he was so terribly frozen and helpless.

And Hermione brought her hands up to cover her mouth, her eyes wide.

“You will wallow in your ignorance and everyone will see you for what you are: a failure.”

Then Luna’s eyes found Harry’s, and he took a half-step back. Suddenly, he could feel his awareness crash back into his body, just in time for him to be pinned in place by the malice of Luna’s gaze.

“You will always be the lonely and unloved boy in the cupboard.”

Harry staggered back another step, the words echoing through his mind. Because they were true. Horribly, painfully true. He felt as though he’d been flung back through time, back into the cupboard under the stairs, back to being completely, utterly alone in the world. How long did he have until he lost the remaining people who cared about him?

He could see it all so clearly now. He’d never really left the cupboard, had he? It was only a temporary fluke that he’d found people that cared about him– they would leave him eventually, just like everyone else in his life.

Then he was knocked to the side by Ginny as she flew past him to tackle Luna to the ground. Harry landed heavily and was slightly dazed as he watched Ginny rip the diadem off of Luna’s head. It was then that Harry finally noticed the basilisk fang Ginny was clutching in her hand. She rolled away from Luna, shielding the diadem from Luna’s desperate attempts to retrieve it, and then stabbed it with the fang.

The diadem screeched for one terrible, ear-shattering moment, and gave one last gurgle. Then all was silent again.

Harry slowly climbed to his feet then stood frozen with the others for a long moment. Then Luna said, in her normal airy voice, “Does anyone know why I’m lying on the ground?”

Ron muttered, “Bloody hell.”

Ginny got to her feet and shoved both the fang and the broken diadem into Harry’s hands. “You should probably give those to Kreacher for safe storage,” she said to Harry, before turning to Luna. “And you’re on the ground because decided to wear Ravenclaw’s diadem, which was, apparently, enchanted a bit like the diary had been.”

Harry had taken a couple steps away from the group when Ginny had given him the diadem and the fang. He quietly called Kreacher, trying not to disturb the others, and asked Kreacher to put the diadem with the locket. Kreacher agreed, then they both turned their attention back to where everyone’s attention was riveted on Ginny.

“–so I reacted kinda instinctively. The diadem’s words were meant to hurt, so it felt natural to refuse to let them. The twins always backed off that much faster if I pretended they hadn’t gotten to me, and once the diadem moved on, I was able to break free and run towards where I’d last seen Kreacher. I didn’t want to risk the diadem figuring out what I was up to, so I quietly asked Kreacher to get me another basilisk fang. He didn’t want to abandon what he was doing, so I had to explain that the diadem was like the locket and that Harry would probably be in danger if we didn’t manage to destroy it soon. And that was enough to convince him.

“He was able to just summon the fang from the basilisk this time, and I immediately grabbed it and ran back towards everyone. Then you guys know the rest– I tackled Luna to get the diadem off of her and stabbed it with the fang,” she concluded with a proud look on her face.

Harry gave her a broad smile as Luna reached out to grasp Ginny’s hand and said, “Thank you for saving me.”

Ginny shrugged slightly and said, “It was no big deal, I was just the only one able to break the trance of horror.”

“Merlin, I’d forgotten we used to call it that,” Ron said faintly. Then, in a louder voice, he said, “Trance of horror is what we used to call it when Fred and George pulled a prank that left us frozen in shock.”

“Kreacher is wondering if this will be all, because Kreacher has things to do, and master and his friends have already collected many galleons worth of things.”

Honestly, Harry had nearly completely forgotten about what they’d come here to do. He was still feeling raw and exposed after what the diadem had said about him, and he didn’t really feel like he was all the way back in the present yet. He really hoped the others had been too distracted by everything else that had happened to pay too much attention to what the diadem had said to him.

Then Harry realized that he still needed to respond to Kreacher and said, “Oh, uh, I think we have enough for now, so feel free to go back to whatever you were doing. And thank you again for your help.”

“Kreacher was happy to help,” Kreacher said, then apparated away.

Harry heard Hermione cast Tempus in the next moment. Then she said, “As long as everyone’s alright, we ought to head down to dinner now.”

I’m glad she mostly means physically alright, he thought as he glanced over the others. He didn’t think any of them were wholly unscathed by what had happened. Ginny and Luna were the ones who could be physically hurt, but they were both standing with the others and seemed mostly unharmed. Ginny glanced over at Luna, who took a moment to react to what Hermione had said.

Then Luna said, “I do not think I am alright at the moment. But I am physically fine and very hungry. So I think we ought to go to dinner. I’m sure I’ll be alright with time.”

Ginny took one of her hands as Neville took the other. Neville said, “And we’ll be here for you every step of the way.”

Harry pasted a smile onto his face and nodded.

They filed out of the room as a single group, and walked to the Great Hall.

Severus was wandering through the hallways of Hogwarts. He had gone to dinner with Harry and his friends, and sat with them as they’d unpacked the events of the Room of Requirement. They had all seemed incredibly unsettled by what had happened, and Severus certainly didn’t blame them.

He himself was decidedly unsettled by the events of what should have been an ordinary and downright boring afternoon.

Unlike what he would have assumed, he hadn’t minded sitting and listening to the teenagers’ conversations. And it had, in fact, been far superior to any of the dinners he could remember having at the Slytherin table. Despite his reluctance to actively participate in the conversation, they’d made sure to include him. And as annoyed as Severus had wanted to be at not being left alone, their pestering had so obviously been borne of concern that he couldn’t quite manage it.

Thankfully, after dinner he’d managed to slip away on his own. He needed to decompress and sort through his own thoughts without an audience.

So now he was wandering through the hallways aimlessly.

He turned his thoughts towards the words that the diadem-possessed Lovegood had said to him, Severus. Their targeted nature had proven that the diadem had some ability to see through to their deepest fears. Of course, Severus’s fears haunted him nearly every day, so it had hardly made a difference to hear his own thoughts come from Lovegood rather than from his own mind. It hadn’t been difficult, therefore, for him to remain mostly stoic in front of the others.

And as further evidence of the diadem’s ability, Granger’s personalized taunt had been razor sharp and accurately aimed– at least, he was reasonably sure that it was, based on what he knew from having her in class and, of course, from her reaction to the diadem.

This, then, essentially confirmed that Harry’s message had been similarly pointed. And after concluding this, Severus could feel the implications looming over him, and a thrill of foreboding ran down his spine.

He shook it off and plowed on with his thoughts.

“You will always be the lonely and unloved boy in the cupboard,” Lovegood had said.

Severus hardly knew where to start with deciphering this. He simply lacked the necessary context to understand what Lovegood had been referencing. After another moment’s thought, he realized that the use of the word ‘boy’ strongly suggested that Lovegood was referencing something from Harry’s childhood. The problem was, again, that Severus had no context for how Harry had been raised.

Or, at least, he didn’t yet. Because he’d certainly been given bits and pieces of information about Harry’s life before Hogwarts. He’d simply never cared to put them together– until now.

Severus knew for a fact that Harry had been raised in the muggle world, but he hadn’t given any thought as to who, precisely, had raised him.

But, he realized as he focused on his memories of Harry, he had been told who Harry had been placed with. He had already known that Harry had been given to Petunia. He had just never cared about the implications of Petunia raising a magical child. But now that he was considering them, it was abundantly clear that Harry’s childhood could not have been a very happy one.

Petunia might not have always been a spiteful bitch, but by the time Severus and Lily had left for Hogwarts, she was already well on her way to becoming one. Her jealousy had warped her into a cruel person.

She had been specifically and horribly jealous of Lily’s magic, lashing out every time Severus and Lily had practiced magic together, more than once driving Lily to tears over it.

And, if she’d been willing to do that to the little sister that she’d grown up with and once loved, then he shuddered to think of what she’d been willing to do to Harry. When Harry had been left with Petunia, he’d been a defenseless baby, and Severus was sure that Petunia had seen Harry as little more than a reminder of the sister she’d grown to hate.

Severus hated to compare himself to Petunia, but really, they had likely both reacted to Harry the same way.

They had both looked at Harry and only seen James. They’d both viewed James in a similar way– they’d both seen him as stealing Lily from them. For Petunia, James had been more of a symbol of the wizarding world at large. Severus had more personally resented Harry’s resemblance to James, but the end result was the same.

Or, well, he assumed it was.

Because now Severus was remembering all the little things about Harry that he’d noticed and then immediately brushed off as idiosyncrasies or accidents.

Like the time Severus had seen Harry’s bruised chest and arms, and how Harry’s clear discomfort with the situation that seemed to go beyond being seen fresh out of the shower by a near stranger. Severus had been so blind at the time that he’d believed Harry’s story about flying into a tree.

Severus could remember what those bruises looked like, though, and they had looked rather more like Harry had been punched or kicked by someone, and more than once at that. After concentrating on the memory of their encounter, Severus realized that there had been some marks curling around to the front of Harry’s torso. Marks that looked suspiciously, horribly, like they’d been made by a belt.

Severus wandered through a couple corridors with this thought ringing through his head. Because even though he’d separated Harry and James in his mind, he had never imagined that Harry had not been safe at home.

And the more Severus thought about what Harry’s childhood had been like, the more he realized that he and Harry were horribly alike. Or, at least, their childhoods had been. Severus took a moment to let this sink in before he turned his thoughts back to where they had been.

Clearly someone had been hurting Harry, and while Severus had been so clearly focused on Petunia’s role in Harry’s childhood, Severus realized that he’d neglected to consider who Petunia had married.

He gave this mystery some consideration. After a few long moments, Severus came to the conclusion that while he had no idea who Petunia had married, he had no need to know. Because regardless of who had perpetrated the violence against Harry, be it Petunia or her spouse, Petunia was independently capable of creating an unsafe environment for Harry.

When Severus had known her, Petunia had been more than capable of getting to know a person with the sole intent of finding out what buttons to push to make them crumble. Eventually though, Lily had become less vulnerable to Petunia’s taunts. Severus could clearly remember several incidents where Petunia had physically lashed out– at both Lily and Severus.

And this was the woman that had raised Harry.

There was more than just the bruising though, Severus realized. At the same time that he’d seen Harry’s bruising, he’d also seen how very thin the boy was. His ribs were entirely too prominent on his chest, and his wrists almost appeared fragile in their thinness. Severus had now had several meals with Harry, who never seemed to eat that much. And half the time Harry only seemed to eat as much as he did because his friends– usually one of the Weasleys or Granger– piled his plate with food and urged him to eat more.

That was most definitely not normal behavior for a teenage boy. Most teenage boys were ravenous by the time they sat down to eat, and needed no encouragement to eat their way through absolutely absurd amounts of food.

Severus himself was evidence of this, because as soon as he’d taken the potion that’d forced him to become a teenager again, he’d started eating like one. His readings had told him that his body would now behave just like a proper teenagers would.

Which then begged the question: why did Harry not eat like a normal teenage boy? Unfortunately, Severus had a terrible feeling that he knew the answer to that question. It was all too likely that Petunia had not found it necessary to adequately feed Harry. Because if she was willing to physically harm Harry, then she would almost certainly be willing to restrict his food.

And, on the topic of ways that Harry had been neglected– Harry’s clothing was an obvious contender. Those rags that he had removed the stains from had not only been, well, ragged and stained, they’d also seemed entirely too large for a boy as small as Harry.

Obviously Severus had no way to be sure that Harry had had a deprived childhood, but beyond the big obvious things that should have aroused his suspicion when he’d first noticed them, there were other warning signs that he could now see. Signs he could no longer ignore.

Things like Harry’s obvious lack of self-worth. Severus could now tell that Harry had genuinely not expected Eli to apologize for saying terrible things to his face. And then there had been his belief that he would be replaced as the leader of the DA. And there was the fact that Harry was just generally quiet and unobtrusive.

While a couple of these things on their own would not be cause for concern, the picture they all painted together was horribly and painfully clear.

Severus had truly done Harry a disservice in assuming that his childhood had been just like James’s.It was now looking terribly, horribly, like Harry’s childhood had been like his own.

Severus now felt ill as he remembered how he’d treated Harry for the longest time. Harry had been a child when they’d finally met for the first time. And all Severus had been able to see was the face of his childhood nemesis.

But– Severus stopped himself. It wasn’t healthy to continue to obsess over the past. But he could plan for the future, so Severus added ‘interrogate Dumbledore about why he’d left another child in an abusive home’ to his list of things to speak with Dumbledore about when he eventually returned to Hogwarts.

His thoughts now organized, Severus turned and walked purposefully towards Gryffindor tower.

When Severus made it back to Gryffindor tower, he was immediately flagged down by Harry, Ginny, and Neville. As he walked over to join them, he supposed that Weasley 1 and Granger were off alone again.

He was perfectly fine with that, since the smaller group was all the better to observe Harry from. After Severus’s long walk, he was nearly certain that he was right about Harry’s childhood, but further evidence of it would be helpful for when Severus confronted Albus.

As he sat down in a seat with Harry and his friends, Severus asked, “How’s Luna? I thought she was planning to join us after dinner.”

Harry glanced at Weasley 2, who said, “Luna went to her dorm to rest and eat some chocolate. She said she wanted some alone time to process what happened.”

Severus nodded.

“So, we were about to start a game of Exploding Snap, if you wanted to join us?” Harry said, jiggling the game box slightly.

Severus glanced at the box and hid his grimace as best as he could. “If you don’t mind, I think I’ll sit this one out and catch up on my reading.”

“Alright then,” Harry said. Then he turned to Longbottom and Weasley 2 and said, “Who wants to deal?”

As they got the game set up, Severus pulled a random book out of his bag and settled into his chair to pretend to read it. Once upon a time, he would have liked nothing better than to have a chance to sit with a book and read it, but now he was more interested in watching how Harry interacted with his friends.

Nearly right away, he noticed how Harry deferred immediately to Weasley 2 or Longbottom every single time there was a reason to.

Then, after Severus recovered from the noise of the first card explosion, he realized that Harry had startled worse than the others. Severus unobtrusively cast a muffling spell on his ears as he considered this. It could, of course, be nothing. But Severus knew better than to believe in coincidences.

He was, again, drawn out of his thoughts by Longbottom saying, “I think it was your card that exploded the pile, Ginny.”

Weasley 2 shook her head firmly and said, “No, I don’t think it was.”

Severus hadn’t been paying close enough attention to the actual gameplay to know who it was. This was one of the many reasons he couldn’t be bothered with the game; this situation where the culprit was ambiguous happened entirely too often because watching the explosion closely enough to tell could be difficult.

Longbottom glanced down at his hand. “Well, I’m pretty sure it wasn’t me either, so…”

Weasley 2 huffed and said, “It wasn’t me! If it were me, I wouldn’t bother to hide it, I’d just own up to it.”

“Well, we know it wasn’t Harry, he went too many turns ago for it to be him, so it has to be one of us,” Longbottom said to Weasley 2.

Severus saw Harry shift uncomfortably at this. Before, Severus would have assumed it meant that Harry had cheated somehow and had, in fact, been the one to cause the explosion. But now, Severus thought that it meant Harry was uncomfortable with the situation

“We could just say that it didn’t happen,” Harry offered, glancing between Longbottom and Weasley 2, who were both puffing up a bit.

“But that’s not how the game works!” Weasley 2 said insistently. “One of us made the pile explode, so one of us has to take the point loss.”

Severus was tiring of listening to them argue so uselessly. He had little patience for that kind of stupidity. There was no way to prove definitively which one of them was right, so they may as well decide using chance.

“If neither of you are going to back down, then how about you flip a coin or play ‘Rock, Paper, Scissors’ for it, or something,” Severus lazily suggested, remembering only at the last minute to call the game by its muggle name. He’d nearly forgotten that he’d told Harry that Eli had been raised in the muggle world.

“Rock, Paper, Scissors?” Weasley 2 and Longbottom echoed.

“You don’t know what ‘Rock, Paper, Scissors’ is?” Harry said incredulously.

“Is it like ‘Stone, Cloak, Wand’?” Longbottom asked.

“Uh, maybe? Eli, want to demonstrate a quick game of ‘Rock, Paper, Scissors’?” Harry said, lifting his hands up into the traditional starting position.

Severus mirrored Harry, somewhat reluctantly. As he did so, he considered his mild surprise that Harry had managed to go this long without encountering the wizarding version of the game. But then, Harry had had no connection at all to the wizarding world growing up, so perhaps it was not so surprising that he was, even years after his introduction to his rightful place, discovering new pieces of culture.

Severus rhythmically bounced his right hand over his left as Harry said, “Rock, Paper, Scissors, shoot!”

Harry threw out Paper at the same time that Severus threw out Rock. Harry groaned good-naturedly then turned to Weasley 2 and Longbottom. “So? Is it like– what did you call it? ‘Stone, Cloak, Wand’?”

Weasley 2 nodded and said, “I think, based on the hand gestures and the names a little, that Stone is Rock and…”

She continued talking, but Severus stopped listening. He was really, truly, not interested in listening to them discuss the differences between the two nearly identical games. Since he didn’t think that he would miss anything interesting happening at the moment, he decided to read a page or two of his book.

A couple pages later, he was drawn out of his book by another explosion. Even with the spell on his ears to muffle only the loudest sounds, the explosion was still loud enough to break his concentration, so Severus decided to take the opportunity to observe Harry with his friends again.

Harry was smiling good-naturedly as he accepted a point penalty, and Weasley 2 was saying, “Are you sure it was you? Because I think it could’ve been Neville this time.”

Longbottom shrugged lightly at this.

“I don’t mind, really,” Harry said. “It was probably just as likely to be me.”

Severus frowned slightly, then wiped the expression from his face. He should have known that Harry would be disposed to take the hits in a game like Exploding Snap. Severus glanced down at his book to check what page he was really on as he settled in to watch the game. He’d be turning the pages to keep up the pretense of reading, but he did want to remember where he actually was.

And after several more rounds of discretely watching the game, Severus was beginning to get heartily sick of watching Harry concede points to unnecessarily keep the peace. From what Severus knew of Weasley 2 and Longbottom, Severus didn’t think either of them were the type to get overly upset about a silly game. And while it was true that Severus didn’t have a great deal of memories of Harry to draw upon, the ones that he did have didn’t suggest that Harry had always been the type to defer to his friends so easily. Or to seem quite so disturbed by conflict.

It made him wonder if the events last spring had been sufficient to wreak this change in Harry, or if something else had happened this past summer.

But then Severus had to put this aside to consider later, because Harry was conceding another point, and Severus had decided enough was enough. He set aside his book and sat up to watch the game closely.

If they couldn’t be bothered to watch the explosions closely enough to actually keep score, and if Harry refused to be assertive, then Severus would just have to do it himself.

The next time the cards exploded, Severus was ready. Thankfully, Harry was not the one to cause the explosion, but he was the other person who could possibly have done it. As Severus had expected, they all recovered from the explosion and immediately started debating who had caused it.

“Actually,” Severus interrupted them, “I was watching closely and it was definitely Longbottom that did it.”

Harry, Weasley 2, and Longbottom all stared at him for a moment.

“Weren’t you reading?” Weasley 2 asked curiously.

“I was, but then you seemed to be having a hard time actually scoring the game, so I thought I’d help out by paying attention,” Severus said, with a slightly smug smile.

“Well,” Longbottom said. “If you’re sure.”

As Harry turned back to the game, he flashed a smile at Severus. Suddenly, it didn’t seem so much like a chore to watch the rest of the game. His intervention had clearly made Harry happy, and all it had cost Severus was a bit of time and attention.

He decided to properly join the circle on the ground.

“Oh, did you want to be dealt in?” Weasley 2 asked, pausing mid-deal.

“No thanks,” Severus said. “I’m still not that into the game, but I don’t mind watching and keeping score for you.”

“Oh, you don’t have to do that, Eli,” Harry said worriedly. “Just because we’re bad at actually watching the explosions doesn’t mean you have to stop what you were doing to help us out.”

Severus smiled and said, “Really, I don’t mind, uh, it’s actually more fun to– watch. Than it is to play.” He hoped the lie wasn’t too obvious, but it wasn’t like he could just say that the only reason he was doing this was to stop the others from, however inadvertently, walking all over Harry.

They ended up playing Exploding Snap, with Severus keeping score, for the rest of the evening, until Severus had finally had enough and called it quits. When he did, it was late enough that they decided to go right to bed.

The next morning, Severus went down to breakfast with Harry, Weasley 2, and Longbottom. Weasley 1 hadn’t come into the dorm until long after the rest of them had gone to sleep. Severus had been hard-pressed not to do something stupid, like kill the boy, when he had rudely awoken Severus, but thankfully he’d managed to restrain the impulse and go back to sleep.

So, he assumed that Weasley 1 and Granger would not be arriving at breakfast until later.

Severus sipped at the depressingly decaffeinated coffee that was all the students were allowed to have. As a professor, he had felt fully justified in the decision to deny caffeine to the children, but now that he was being forced into withdrawal, he heartily regretted the decision.

As he stared morosely into his mug yet again, Harry said, “From the way you’re looking into your mug, I’m guessing that Ron woke you up last night too?”

Severus grumbled inarticulately, then said, “He sure did.”

“Heh. Sucks to suck,” Weasley 2 said. It took a moment, but then Severus processed that Weasley 2 was not the same age as the rest of them, and would not have been awoken last night, even by Granger.

Any response to that was cut off by the arrival of the morning post. Severus gave the flock of owls a cursory glance, then resumed eating his breakfast. He had no reason to expect any post given that Dumbledore had redirected his mail for the time being and everyone Eli knew was currently at the school with him.

It was somewhat shocking, then, when an absolutely massive barn owl landed directly behind his breakfast plate. Severus flinched back slightly, then looked around at the others in confusion.

“Whose owl is this?” Severus asked, leaning back slightly.

The owl stuck its leg out directly at Severus, as Weasley 2 said, “I’m pretty sure it’s for you.”

Severus frowned and removed the letter from the owl’s leg. The owl then took a piece of bacon from Severus’s plate and hopped from the table to Severus’s shoulder. It was not a pleasant situation to be in, since the owl’s talons were digging into his shoulder, and bacon bits were periodically landing in his lap as the owl ate the bacon it had stolen.

He looked back at the letter, and sure enough, it was addressed to ‘Eli Hopkirk’. “So it is for me,” he said aloud for the others’ benefit. He opened the envelope and pulled out the letter.

Severus continued to stare blankly at the parchment for several long moments after he had finished reading the letter. He had absolutely no idea how he was to respond to it. And, as his blank astonishment ran its course, a wave of anger at Dumbledore rose immediately behind it.

Why the hell had Dumbledore chosen a name that was already in use! Suddenly, Severus remembered the inkling of suspicion he had had when Dumbledore had first informed Severus of the pseudonym. At the time, he had been far too distracted by the situation as a whole to pay the suspicion any mind, but he now realized that that had been a mistake.

Because he had already known Mafalda Hopkirk. Whenever his Slytherins performed magic in muggle areas, which was thankfully not too often, Severus received a copy of the warning notice that Mafalda sent out. So he really ought to have properly recognized the name!

And now she was asking to meet Eli. For what felt like the millionth time, Severus cursed Dumbledore for his asinine plans.

“Is everything alright?” Harry asked, interrupting Severus’s train of thought.

He looked up from the letter he was still clutching too tightly, and said, “Oh, I’m alright. Just a bit shocked. It turns out I might have a relative here in England that I didn’t know about.”

Harry said, “Oh, that’s cool,” and returned to his breakfast. The brief smile that crossed his face as he said that hadn’t seemed wholly genuine.

Severus said, “Thanks,” and returned to staring blankly at his letter. Instead of thinking about how to respond, however, he was thinking about Harry’s response. Because Severus felt like he was missing something obvious. And a beat later he realized what it was and felt like a buffoon.

Of course Harry would feel somewhat bitter at Eli receiving a letter, out of the blue, from a previously unknown relative.

Harry was an orphan, and not only that, an orphan who had had a significantly less than ideal childhood, and his only living relatives were the people responsible for his terrible childhood. Severus couldn’t be sure, but it was probably not uncalled for to think that Harry had possibly wished to receive a similar letter.

At this thought, Severus unobtrusively slid the letter into his bookbag, and mentally added ‘Figure out how to respond to Mafalda’ to his to-do list. Then, he rejoined the conversation, just in time to hear Weasley 2 say, “I wonder if Ron and Hermione are going to turn up in time to get breakfast, or if they’re going to sleep the morning away.”

Longbottom said, “I don’t really see Hermione skipping breakfast like that.”

“And she’s certainly not averse to storming into our dorm to wake Ron up,” Harry added.

Severus frowned lightly. “But she’s a girl, and Ron is in the boys’ dormitory. She shouldn’t have access to our dorm.”

Weasley 2 smiled smugly and said, “We can go into the boys’ dormitory whenever we want, really. It’s the guys that can’t come into the girls’ side.” She sighed and said, “Regretfully, I missed the moment where the first years figured that out, this year.”

“What?” Severus said. That did not make any sense at all. In the Slytherin dorms, the door simply wouldn’t respond to someone who didn’t belong. There was nothing exciting about watching a first year try, and fail, to open a door.

“Oh, I guess you missed it too,” Weasley 2 said, still uselessly.

“Missed what?” Severus repeated.

Finally, Harry took over. “If a guy tries to go up the stairs to the girls’ dorm, the stairs flatten into a slide that dumps whoever tried to go up onto the common room floor.”

Severus blinked a few times. “That doesn’t make any sense. So, girls can just come into the boys’ dorm whenever they want, but if a guy tries to go into the girl’s dorm, the stairs change shape? What a uselessly elaborate enchantment! Why not just enchant the door to the dorm hallway to only respond to people who should be there?”

He had been gesticulating while he spoke, and his last flourish smacked right into Weasley 1, who was sliding onto the bench to Severus’s right. He glanced over at Weasley 1, and then at Granger, who was sitting down next to Longbottom across the table from Weasley 1, and then finally back at Harry and Weasley 2. He needed them to understand that their dorm made absolutely no sense.

And, in the next breath, he realized that it was his dorm too.

Weasley 2, Harry, and Longbottom had all shrugged at his short rant. Severus supposed that the ridiculous situation was just too normal for them to properly appreciate how bizarre it was.

“What’re we talking about?” Weasley 1 asked, with his mouth full of food.

Severus threw a disgusted look at him as Granger glared at Weasley 1.

“Don’t be gross, Ron. And we were talking about how guys aren’t allowed in the girls’ dorm,” Weasley 2 said.

“Oh,” Weasley 1 said inarticulately.

After a moment, Harry asked, “So, how’d you guys sleep?”

At that, Severus tuned out the conversation. He had better things to do than listen to inane morning small talk. Things like, figure out what the hell to do with the letter he had received. Because he certainly was not going to meet the woman in Hogsmeade, since he would cease looking like Eli in a few short months. Or rather, in a few weeks, when Dumbledore returned to Hogwarts.

Maybe Severus ought to respond to her letter with an offer to correspond. He could maintain a correspondence with her until Albus returned, and then Severus could turn the mess over to Albus and not deal with it anymore.

Still deep in thought, Severus absently glanced over at the head table. And did a double-take when he saw Albus fucking Dumbledore seated at it, casual as can be.

When the hell had Albus turned up? Severus tapped the table, interrupting whatever Weasley 1 had been saying, and mutely pointed at Albus.

“Oh!” Granger exclaimed.

“He’s back early,” Weasley 2 said flatly.

Harry had sighed in relief. Then he said, “Thank god, we can tell him about the locket and the tiara soon.”

Severus was busy trying to discern how much food was on Albus’s plate in order to gauge how long he had been in the Great Hall for. He had no idea how he had managed to miss Dumbledore’s entrance, because the man was wearing atrocious, bright yellow robes. Severus realized, a moment later, that they were the exact shade of the lemon drops Dumbledore favored.

“I think we should go see him right after breakfast,” Severus said, annoyed that he couldn’t get a good look at Albus’s plate.

“Yeah, I feel like the stuff we need to talk to him about is stuff he’d want us to go to him with right away,” Weasley 2 said.

“And we don’t know how long he’s going to be here for. He said he’d be gone for a few weeks, so this might be a really brief visit. I don’t think we should risk missing him,” Granger said.

Severus was glad that they’d gotten on board so easily. It’d be simple for him to accompany Harry and his friends to Dumbledore’s office, then stay behind to speak to Dumbledore alone on some pretense about Eli’s transfer paperwork. And then the real fun of the day could begin.

By this point, Severus had finished eating, so he set his utensils down and half listened to Harry and his friends talking; it was vaguely interesting to hear them discuss the horcruxes without knowing what they were. They were planning what they were going to say to Albus, because they wanted to make sure they included all the relevant bits.

Weasley 2 was talking about how the diary had affected her, and how it had been similar to how the diadem had affected Lovegood.

Until now, Severus hadn’t realized that Weasley 2 had been so affected by the diary, but now that he was actually considering it, it was pretty remarkable that she had recovered so well from such a horrific event. The realization that she had survived possession by Voldemort and had been able to grow into, from what he could tell, well-adjusted teenager, caused Severus to glance over at her with newfound respect.

And she hadn’t just been possessed once– she’d been possessed many times throughout most of her first year. It was remarkable that she’d even been able to rejoin her classmates the following year.

This train of thought was derailed by the arrival of Lovegood at their table. She had immediately plopped herself down into Ginny's lap, but made no move to reach for any food. So Severus assumed that she'd eaten at the Ravenclaw table before joining them.

Glancing around the group gathered at the Gryffindor table, Severus was struck by the thought that, excluding himself, this was the group that had accompanied Harry to the Department of Mysteries last spring. And he realized that Harry’s group of friends were really a very impressive group of teenagers. They had fought against fully-trained, adult wizards last spring, and had managed to hold them off long enough for help to arrive. And they’d escaped the encounter without any permanent harm.

However irritating Severus found them, they were a remarkably talented group of loyal friends to Harry. He felt a bubble of jealousy building up in his gut, and while he knew it was small and petty of him to be jealous of someone young enough to be his son, he couldn’t quite help it.

But then, the small group rumbled with laughter, and Harry tossed a smile at Severus just as Weasley 1 nudged Severus gently with his elbow. And Severus reflexively smiled back at Harry. For a brief, shining moment, Severus felt included in Harry’s friend group, and the bubble of jealousy that had been building up dissipated.

Then Harry said, “You missed it, Eli!” And the illusion shattered, leaving him feeling lonelier than before. Because it wasn’t Severus that was included in Harry’s friend group, it was Eli. He knew that Severus had absolutely no chance of being accepted in the same way that ‘Eli’ was, because Severus wasn’t their peer.

“Oh no! What did I miss?” Severus finally remembered to say, but failed to hear whatever it was because he was still preoccupied with the fact that Severus could never be Harry’s peer. Then Severus remembered that he would soon be resuming his position as Harry’s professor. Maybe, as his professor, Severus could begin to build Harry’s trust in him. Harry had a lot of reasons to hate Severus, but if he proved to Harry that he had changed, maybe he could eventually become Harry’s mentor. It would take a lot of work, but he thought he could do it, so long as they never found out that Severus was Eli.

Because there was no way Severus would be able to overcome the betrayal that Harry and his friends would, rightfully, feel at realizing that they had been lied to and misled.

Suddenly, there was a flurry of motion around him as everyone rose from the table. He quickly joined them, as a quick glance at the head table showed that Albus had already departed. Severus felt his heartbeat quicken ever so slightly as his confrontation with Albus approached.

As they walked through the halls together, Severus realized that his earlier thought about being stuck as Eli for the next couple weeks was wildly incorrect. Because he would now get the chance to tell Albus that he had completed the task he had been set.

At the moment, Severus was most grateful to not have to deal with responding to Mafalda Hopkirk.

“Hey Eli,” Harry said, pulling up alongside Severus, “are you alright? You’ve been kinda quiet this morning.”

Severus pulled himself out of his thoughts, smiled reassuringly, and said, “I’m alright, just a bit distracted this morning.”

Harry said, “I know you’ve been dragged along on a lot of stuff, and I just wanted to remind you that you’re not obligated to come along with us. If you want to, that’s also cool with us, but I just don’t want you to feel like you have to come with us.”

“Out of curiosity,” Severus began, “do you ask your other friends that?”

Harry looked embarrassed as he said, “Well, I used to try and stop them from coming with me for stuff like this, so really, only asking if you’re okay with coming, and not trying to stop you entirely, is something of an improvement.”

“And you thought that would work?” Severus asked, because he had a hard time picturing any of Harry’s end-of-year adventures happening without Harry’s friends.

“See, Harry? Even Eli can see it, and he’s only known us for like a week!” Weasley 2 said, butting into the conversation.

Harry rolled his eyes good naturedly. “I just wanted to make sure!”

“And you have, and I’m sure I want to come along.” Severus said.

They had arrived outside the gargoyle that guarded Albus’s office, so conversation ceased as Longbottom and Lovegood, who had arrived first, exchanged a glance that very clearly conveyed that they did not know the password. Severus stepped around all of them and said, “I had to visit his office earlier this year, so I know the password.”

“That’s good, because none of the rest of us do,” Granger said.

“Licorice Wand,” Severus said to the gargoyle. It leapt aside immediately, and Severus stepped aside to let the others precede him up the rotating staircase. Severus wouldn’t have much to say until the others left, so he thought it was best if they entered first.

Once everyone was past him, he stepped onto the stairs and let them carry him up passively. From the staircase, Severus heard Granger ask, “When did you get back, sir?”

Severus was curious as to the answer to that as well, because they had all been told that Albus would be gone for a few weeks, and it had only been a couple days.

Albus responded, “I arrived sometime last night, as my business abroad had concluded delightfully early.”

There was a moment of silence, during which Severus stepped into the office. He noticed, as he slid behind the group of students gathered in front of Albus’s desk, that Harry was pulling out the locket and the diadem and placing them on Albus’s desk.

Severus took a moment to savor the look of shock on Albus’s face before he stopped along the far wall of the office.

“Where did you get these?” Albus asked. He swept a look around the room, gaze lingering ever so slightly on Severus. Severus returned Albus’s gaze with a slightly smug smile, because he doubted that Albus had ever expected to come back to find two more of Voldemort’s horcruxes destroyed.

Then he paused, because that could perhaps be why Dumbledore had come back. He was the headmaster and holder of the wards, so perhaps he had felt the release of dark magic from the horcrux destruction, twice, and come back to investigate.

“That’s kind of a long story,” Harry said hesitantly.

They were all still standing around awkwardly, so Severus wondered if that was a hint for an offer to sit. Whether it was or not, it worked, because then Albus said, “Have a seat everyone.”

Harry pulled out his wand at the same time Albus did, and then Harry hurriedly replaced his wand in his pocket. Severus absently noted that he ought to get Harry a wand holster, that wasn’t a very secure way to carry a wand.

Albus, who had kept his wand out, conjured ridiculously plush armchairs for everyone to sit in. Then he took his own seat behind his desk. He said, “There, now we are all settled in for a long story.”

Severus reoriented his chair so he could see both Harry’s and Albus’s faces, fascinated by the chance to observe the two interact.

Harry began recounting the story of where the horcruxes had come from, starting with where they had found them.

Severus reclined in his chair and enjoyed watching Albus’s face as he reacted. Severus had never been more grateful that he’d learned to see beyond the calm mask Dumbledore liked to wear than he was at this moment.

Then Harry moved on to explain how they destroyed the horcruxes– not that he called them that– and what Harry and his friends thought the horcruxes were.

After Harry finally concluded, Albus silently considered something for a moment. Then he said, “I tell you this only because you’re already so involved, and because I made a promise to you, Harry, to tell you everything. Will you all swear to not speak of this outside this room?”

Harry and his friends all responded in the affirmative and Severus belatedly remembered to join them.

Then Albus said, “I do believe you have destroyed objects that Voldemort had stored pieces of his soul in.”

The group of students froze for a moment at this. Severus supposed that it was one thing to suspect that they had destroyed pieces of Voldemort’s soul, and another thing entirely to have it confirmed by Dumbledore, who was one of the few voices of authority on the subject.

Harry started to say, “So you’re saying that we’ve destroyed parts of Voldemort’s soul–”

Then he cut himself off mid-sentence and froze, a frightened look sweeping across his face.

It felt as though time had slowed down as they all waited for Harry to say something, to explain the expression on his face.

“He knows,” Harry whispered, an expression of shock and horror taking over his face. He broke the stillness that had settled over the room by scrabbling at the armrests, trying uselessly to get a grip on the plush material.

It took Severus a moment to figure out what Harry meant by that. And when he did, he felt a flood of panic rise within him. He lunged out of chair towards Harry and gripped his shoulders, not sure what he was doing, but overcome with the desperate need to hold Harry in place, to not let him out of his sight.

But then Harry started to fade before his very eyes. Harry’s arms no longer felt tangible beneath Severus’s grip, and then he felt the Dark Mark on his arm pull against his skin, as though it was trying to follow Harry. Severus gritted his teeth against the sensation and tried to keep his grip on Harry, but it was a losing battle. Severus focused his gaze on Harry’s eyes, and saw the horror on the boy’s face morph into agony.

And, as his body became nearly completely transparent, a ghostly scream tore itself from Harry’s mouth.

Then he disappeared completely, leaving no trace behind but for the last echo of his agony, which continued to resound throughout the horrified silence in the headmaster’s office.

Harry crashed heavily to the ground, collapsing into a heap on the floor with his face pressed uncomfortably into the ground. His glasses dug painfully into the side of his head. His scar felt as though it was burning and he was still reeling from the pain of being pulled through space. It had felt like something had gripped a part of his soul and tugged so hard that he had teleported to the source.

It was, in a way, reminiscent of the times Vernon had yanked him around by his hair, or his ear, or his arm. Because it felt like something that was deeply connected, but still separate, was being pulled away from the rest of his soul. Like this piece was so tightly fused to the rest of him that it was painful to try and separate it.

“Potter?” A furious voice said, breaking the silence. Then, immediately after that, the same voice cast, “Incarcerous.”

Harry’s arms were pulled out from beneath him and bound behind his back. At the same time, his legs were encased in rope that wound its way up his body until he was encased in rope from his ankles to his shoulders. He struggled to take in a breath. He couldn’t breathe properly because his chest was too tightly restrained.

Then Harry found himself being lifted into the air. When he was finally able to take in his surroundings, and, as soon as he saw that while he was in a room alone with Voldemort and Nagini, he felt his fear mount even further, when he had not thought that possible. He had been trying to deny the truth of his situation, but could no longer manage it.

“How did you find my horcruxes?” Voldemort demanded, getting to his feet and heavily pacing back and forth in front of where Harry was floating in midair. His fists were clenching and unclenching around the wand that he still held in his hand, which periodically emitted a shower of crimson sparks.

Harry stared mutely at him, eyes wide. He had no idea what Voldemort was talking about.

“The pieces of my soul that you destroyed,” Voldemort hissed. He paused right in front of Harry, then Voldemort lashed out, back-handing Harry across the face. “Tell me: how did you find them,” Voldemort repeated, voice rising in volume. Then he whipped his head around, eyes wildly darting about the room, and said, “No, this will not do. Come along, Potter, Nagini.”

Voldemort stalked off and Harry was pulled along behind him. His face was still stinging from the impact of Voldemort’s hand and Harry blinked back the tears that had reflexively come into his eyes. Just before they left, Harry finally managed to get a decent look at the room that he’d landed in, which was evidently a library. If he hadn’t known that it belonged to Voldemort, Harry would have thought that it was a very cozy looking room.

“So that was the library,” Voldemort said pleasantly, giving Harry mild whiplash as he flipped from furious interrogator to pleasant tour guide.

Harry was pulled along through a series of hallways, each more posh than the last, as Voldemort pointed each one out and gave a quick summary of where it led. Harry’s terror was quickly fading into confusion as he wondered where they were going.

Because he had a hard time believing that they were heading for dungeons, or even somewhere similar, as the hallways were getting nicer as they went along. Although– it was suspicious that the one hallway Voldemort had not said anything about was the one they were currently walking down.

Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad if they were headed for dungeons, though. Because that would, at the very least, allow Harry to stay alive for longer. What he refused to consider, because it would hurt too much when he was wrong, was that if he was put in a dungeon, someone might be able to rescue him.

Then he realized, with a sinking heart, that Voldemort was probably taking Harry somewhere where there would be room to call his Death Eaters. After all the times Harry had made a fool of Voldemort, he probably wanted to make sure that Harry’s death was a public spectacle.

And Harry’s death was inevitable this time. Because he was completely and utterly alone, again.

He knew that he’d managed to escape from Voldemort back in his fourth year, but surely Voldemort would have learned from the mistakes he’d made then. This time, there would be no convenient portkey to take Harry home, and no twin wand effect to allow his parents to help him escape.

Harry didn’t even know where he was, despite the tour he was getting from Voldemort himself. All he knew was that he was in some kind of grand manor. So anyone who could possibly rescue him wouldn’t know where to find him, either. Because he’d been ripped out of Dumbledore’s office, without a trace, to wherever this was. By the time anyone managed to find him, it’d be too late.

He was snapped out of his quickly spiralling thoughts by Voldemort halting them both in front of a pair of large, grand doors.

They swept open automatically after a moment’s wait, and Harry was reminded inexplicably of grocery store doors. Then, as he strode confidently towards the throne, Voldemort said, “And this is the throne room.”

Harry thought that ‘throne room’ was an accurate descriptor for the cavernously large room. It was decorated entirely in green, silver, and black, with snake motifs all over the place.

Then Voldemort was climbing up the stairs to his throne as he said, “And this is my throne.” It was several feet above the rest of the room on a small pedestal that was opposite the door. As soon as he was properly seated he must have released the spell holding Harry up, because Harry fell heavily to the floor on the platform below Voldemort’s throne.

The ropes around him were so tight that he was unable to control his fall at all, and he landed heavily on his back. The little air he’d been able to catch was driven painfully out of his lungs, and he was only able to see a small portion of the ceiling and the corner of Voldemort’s armrest from this angle. He tried to focus on catching his breath.

“As you saw on our tour, Potter, I possess the finer things in life,” Voldemort began smoothly. “So you can imagine my, shall we say, disappointment, when I found out that you had destroyed my SOUL!”

The last word had been roared with rage, and the pain in Harry’s scar spiked to new heights. Harry was shocked into flinching so violently that, were it not for the rope that restrained him, he would have rolled off the pedestal onto the next step.

The fear that had morphed into confusion during Voldemort’s almost pleasant tour of the manor flooded back into his veins with a vicious roar, making his heart pound in his ears.

Because as his fear escalated, he began to feel breathless and lightheaded from his inability to take a proper deep breath. His terror, coupled with his desperate desire to breathe, prevented him from even trying to form a response.

“Did you think I wouldn’t find out, boy?” Voldemort spat, climbing out of his throne to pace around the small area between the throne and the stairs, consequently stepping over parts of Harry’s immobile body. “We are connected, you and I, and I heard you, through our link, tell that despicable old fool about how you had destroyed my belongings.”

It sounded as though Voldemort’s voice was a long ways away, certainly not the mere feet away that it was. Harry hoped that he could continue to get away with not responding.

“I was absolutely infuriated, but still in denial. I dove deep into my own soul and searched for my soul ties. You can imagine my distress, then, when I found only two ties,” Voldemort paused briefly. Then he brought his snake-like face over Harry’s and roared, “TWO!” Harry could feel himself vibrating with fear within the confines of the ropes, and tried helplessly to still himself.

Harry had spent quite some time over the summer regretting his inability to learn Occlumency, but he had never wished that he had learnt the skill more desperately in this moment. Harry had betrayed Dumbledore’s trust mere moments after promising to not let the information leave the room.

Voldemort took a deep breath, then continued, “So I sent my awareness down the soul tie that did not belong to my beloved Nagini, and found myself in that imbecile Dumbledore’s office. I arrived just in time to hear your– your, heinous DISRESPECT.

“I grabbed you, body and soul, and tugged. Yanked. Pulled. I landed back in my body, in my library. And you were there, too, ever so conveniently, for me to interrogate in person. And, of course, for me to exact revenge.”

Harry began to feel physically sick with fear. He closed his eyes and breathed through the nausea as best as he could. He had a feeling that there was something massive he was missing, some pieces he hadn’t connected.

But then Voldemort laughed coldy, derailing Harry’s thoughts again. “Nothing to say, Potter? I wonder if you would be more willing to talk to your old friend, Bellatrix,” Voldemort said musingly.

Harry struggled to breath as some of his fear turned to rage at the mention of the woman who had killed Sirius. Before he could think better of it, he said breathlessly, “I have nothing to say to you.”

Voldemort hissed with rage and cast, “Crucio.”

And Harry was consumed by all-encompassing pain. He mindlessly tried to scream in agony, to move away, but couldn’t find enough give in the ropes to manage any motion at all. After several long moments of excruciating torture, Harry began to see spots encroaching upon his vision.

Then he realized that Voldemort must have stopped the spell, because the sensation of every one of his nerve-endings being on fire had ceased.

In its absence, Harry could feel the burning in his lungs as he gasped for breath, and the numbness in his extremities. The dark spots expanded, swirling around and growing larger, until Harry’s vision felt like a tunnel. As he struggled to regain control of his errant breathing, he knew, distantly, that if he could bring his breathing under control, he could get enough air to survive.

But his body refused to respond to him, and so Harry began to lose his grip on consciousness.

Just before he lost his battle to stay awake, he felt a line of searing pain run from his left shoulder all the way down to his ankles. The ropes binding his chest and legs fell away. Harry feebly rolled over onto his stomach. He still couldn’t breathe very well, so, pressing his shoulders into the pedestal floor, he slid his knees forward to try and free his airway further.

He felt the chilled air of the room slide through the massive slit in his shirt as a few drops of blood slid down his side to pool near his armpit. His arms were still bound behind his back, and his ankles were still tied together. A distant part of his mind registered that he was essentially kneeling before Voldemort’s throne in his desperate attempt to breathe more easily. As he caught his breath his vision began to clear, though his lungs still burned.

“You see how merciful Lord Voldemort is. I could have allowed you to suffocate yourself, but I did not,” he paused melodramatically. Then he cast, “Petrificus Totalus.”

There was a long moment of silence where Harry uselessly tried to flex his muscles to change his position.

Then Voldemort said, “That delightful position you have assumed so willingly must be shared with others, so they can properly admire you finally appreciating your proper place: kneeling at my feet.” He paused again, then called out, “Pettigrew!”

Harry wished he could close his eyes in shame. With his head planted on the floor the way it was, he could see nothing of his environment. For a long moment, all he could hear was the sound of Voldemort climbing the stairs, and then what he could only assume was the sound of Voldemort settling into his throne.

Then he heard Pettigrew scurrying through the throne room. “You called, my lord?” Pettigrew said pathetically.

Harry chose to tune out whatever interaction they were going to have, but as soon as he did, all the aches and pains his body was experiencing made themselves heard. In addition to the residual pain of the Cruciatus Curse, Harry’s body had begun to ache from the position he had been forced to hold. And, on top of that, his skin felt abraded where he’d strained against the ropes, and his lungs still burned when he breathed, and the cut along his side still stung, and his scar had begun to throb in counterpoint with his pulse.

A tear leaked from Harry’s eye, an unconscious release of the misery he was in. Harry focused on the tear’s path as it slid up his forehead and disappeared into his hairline, preferring to think about the water tracking up his face instead of anything else that was happening at the moment.

Harry’s focus was broken by several, sudden, pops of apparition, and he realized that he must have missed Voldemort calling the rest of the Death Eaters.

So he had been right about Voldemort wanting his death to be a public spectacle. Harry just hadn’t imagined it would be quite this humiliating.

Then he heard the sound of Bellatrix’s cackle, and fresh waves of shame and fear and anger washed over him. He felt torn between wishing he could face his fate, and relief that his face was hidden.

“My lord,” Bellatrix gasped. “Is that–”

“It is,” Voldemort interrupted her. “Your eyes do not deceive you, my loyal Death Eaters,” he continued pleasantly. “Harry Potter has kindly joined us this fine Sunday morning.”

Then Harry heard the doors to the throne room blast all the way open, colliding with the walls so loudly that the floor beneath Harry shook with the impact. A hostile silence fell over the Death Eaters, and Voldemort lunged to his feet as a set of footsteps approached. Harry felt a bubble of hope rise within him, and he quickly did his best to squash it down.

“Good morning, Tom,” Dumbledore said pleasantly, causing Harry’s hope to resurge. This hope was only compounded upon when Harry felt his body release from its petrification. He tried to unobtrusively scramble into a sitting position, wary of alerting Voldemort as to his newfound ability to move. He was still too hobbled by the rope around his wrists and his ankles to risk trying to run.

Harry’s new position allowed him to finally see the small crowd of approximately eight Death Eaters gathered in front of Voldemort’s throne. And then there was Dumbledore, who was standing calmly in the midst of them.

“I do hope this wasn’t a private party that I’ve crashed,” Dumbledore said.

There was silence for a moment longer before Voldemort said, “So you've finally decided to come save your little pet hero again?” He paused dramatically, then said, “Don’t you get tired of rescuing such a useless boy?”

Harry flinched as Voldemort laughed derisively, which was quickly echoed by the gathered Death Eaters.

Then Voldemort continued, “I do have to give you credit for your timely arrival, however.”

Dumbledore bowed mockingly and said, “Thank you, I do my best.”

There was a moment of electric silence as Dumbledore and Voldemort stood, both of them evaluating each other. Harry’s eyes flicked from one to the other, waiting for someone to make the first move. Then he tried to work on the ropes that still bound his hands behind his back, but he only succeeded in worsening the rope burn on his wrists. If he could only free his hands; he could still feel his wand in his pocket–

Then there was a flurry of motion as Voldemort cast, “Avada Kedavra,” at the same time that Dumbledore cast, “Accio Harry Potter.” And the next thing Harry knew he was being tugged through the air towards Dumbledore, who had nimbly dodged Voldemort’s curse.

Harry landed heavily beside Dumbledore, splitting the cut along his side back open.

But Dumbledore was already in motion, whirling in a circle, causing the floor around him and Harry to grow upwards into some kind of shield. Harry was still lying on the ground beside Dumbledore, wishing he could do something about his side, which was now bleeding sluggishly, but he knew Dumbledore had far better things to do at the moment than dealing with Harry’s problems.

The walls Dumbledore had built came crumbling down just as Harry managed to thread his body through his arms. This meant that his hands were now tied in front of his body. Harry’d just started to awkwardly pick at the rope around his ankles when Dumbledore vanished the ropes entirely and said, “My apologies, Harry. I would greatly appreciate it if you could join me just now. Try incapacitating as many of the Death Eaters as you can, but do not move out from behind me, as I cannot protect you if you do so.”

Harry climbed unsteadily to his feet, doing his best to not think about how much he was hurting, and said, “Yes sir.” Then he pulled out his wand and readied himself to face the Death Eaters.

It was then he noticed that Dumbledore must have created some other barrier while Harry was getting to his feet, because as Harry turned to face the back of the room, the barrier came flying towards them.

Harry flinched back, but Dumbledore deflected all the debris easily. Harry could now see the small group of Death Eaters and started casting spells, alternating between Expelliarmus and Stupefy, as rapidly as he could.

He had managed to catch a single wand from someone when Dumbledore took a step back, constructing another barrier as he went. Harry stepped back as well and asked breathlessly, “What’s going on, sir?

“We are stalling until help arrives,” Dumbledore said calmly, then began waving his wand in an intricate pattern.

A moment later there was a resounding boom, and the barrier in front of them transfigured into a flock of geese that charged at the Death Eaters. Harry immediately resumed casting Expelliarmus and Stupefy, managing to hit another one with a Stupefy before Dumbledore took another step back and constructed another barrier.

This time, Harry could hear the sound of flying objects colliding violently with the barrier. He eyed it uncertainly, wary of it failing prematurely.

“Not to worry, Harry, the properties of this barrier are such that it is resistant to the bludgeoning damage that the other barriers were vulnerable to, at the cost of letting sound through. I shall have to teach it to you someday,” Dumbledore said.

Harry distantly wondered how Dumbledore had known what he was thinking, but shook it off quickly. He focused, instead, on recovering during the few moments he had before the barrier inevitably broke.

He took a moment to check on the cut along his side, and only had time to verify that it had scabbed over before the barrier exploded outwards. In the resulting backlash, Harry managed to relieve Avery of his wand. He pocketed it with the other wand he’d acquired earlier. His wrist brushed against the inside of his pocket and he winced as his rope burns were agitated.

Harry was startled by the sudden appearance of ten people, all circled around something. He realized, a beat later, that they must have taken a portkey in. Harry breathed a sigh of relief as he spotted Professor Lupin. And then he noticed Tonks’ bright, bubblegum pink hair, too, which was followed by his gaze landing upon Mrs. Weasley.

But then another cloaked figure stepped forward, from behind Kingsley, and Harry was momentarily frozen in surprise as he saw Snape join the fray, the man’s usual sneering demeanour marred with uncharacteristic panic.

Then he disappeared completely, leaving no trace behind but for the last echo of his agony, which continued to resound throughout the horrified silence in the headmaster’s office.

Severus’s hands clenched into fists the moment Harry’s body ceased to provide resistance. He remained frozen in horror, transfixed by the emptiness of the seat Harry had occupied until mere moments ago. He whirled on Dumbledore and demanded, “How the hell did you let that happen?”

Dumbledore was standing behind his desk, also staring at Harry's empty chair.

“I think our time would be better spent making plans for how to get Harry back, rather than yelling about how it happened,” Dumbledore said reasonably. Severus forcefully unclenched his fists, trying to restrain the impulse to strangle the man with his own beard. Harry could be Merlin knew where, and Dumbledore was being despicably calm about the entire thing.

“What’s your plan to fix this, then?” Severus said, when he was sure that he could modulate his tone. It would do no good to antagonize the man at this point, and calmness was the key to galvanizing him into action.

“First,” Dumbledore said, reaching into a drawer of his desk, “you ought to take this potion.”

Severus eyed Dumbledore suspiciously before plucking the opaque bottle out of the air from where Dumbledore had floated it to.

“What’s that potion?” Granger asked worriedly.

Severus rolled his eyes as Weasley 1 added, “Yeah, Snape might have brewed that!”

Dumbledore chuckled and said, “Your concern is admirable, Ronald, but even if Severus had brewed this potion, it would be perfectly safe to consume. In any case, Christina– Professor Chen, to you– was the one who brewed this particular potion.”

Severus grimaced and made eye contact with Dumbledore, doing his best to ask, ‘Is this really necessary?’ without words. Dumbledore nodded austerely, so Severus grimaced again and knocked the potion back. He realized, then, that there was only one reason he could think of for Dumbledore to make him drink a potion that someone else had brewed like this.

They all stood around for an awkward moment. Dumbledore said, “Not to worry, the potion takes a moment to work properly.”

Severus nodded, and glanced around at the office, just passing the time.

Then there was a bright flash, just as there had been when he’d taken the original potion. Severus realized that his clothing was now uncomfortably tight, and generally much too small, so he pulled out his wand and transfigured the entire outfit into his typical casualwear.

A moment later, the remaining students in the room made their shock known.

Both Weasleys yelled, “Snape?”

Granger faintly said, “Professor Snape?”

Longbottom and Lovegood both simply stared at him with wide eyes.

“It’s alright everyone,” Dumbledore said placatingly. “I was the one who asked Professor Snape to do–”

“Yes, yes, that’s all very good, but what are we going to do for Harry,” Severus interrupted him. Every moment they wasted bickering about his deception was a moment longer that Harry was in potentially grave danger. He knew that his chance to make up for his past treatment of Harry had just been shot to hell, but shoved his reaction to that down. It was far more important for them to rescue Harry.

All the children eyed him oddly, but seemed to agree with the sentiment, because then they, too, focused fully on Dumbledore.

“Very well. Here is the plan: Severus is going to stay here and coordinate the arrival of the members of the Order that I will call to my office in a moment. Once I have called them, I will work on a portkey to allow the Order to travel to where I am certain Harry is at. Then I will duplicate it and depart immediately.”

“Wait a second, Albus,” Severus said.

Albus gestured for him to continue, so Severus said, “You’re not going to just let the students stay here, are you? Wherever Harry is, it is likely no place for them to go charging off to. Remember last May?”

“What? No–”

“Harry’s our friend, we have–”

“We can help–”

Dumbledore let off a mild bang with his wand, which captured everyone’s attention. In the silence of the spell’s aftermath, he said, “I am afraid Severus is right, it is simply too dangerous for you to accompany us to where Harry is. Severus, I need you to call Minerva while I make the portkeys. Ask her to take the students somewhere where she can keep her eye on them until we return.”

Harry’s friends exploded into protests yet again, and Albus silenced them with another bang. Then he said, “If you cannot control yourselves, I am afraid I will have to silence you until Minerva is here. I will require quiet so I can focus on creating these portkeys.”

Severus took the cue to go over to Albus’s floo. He tossed in some powder and called, “Minerva’s office!” He stuck his head in and looked around, thankfully spotting her at her desk almost immediately.

She got to her feet and came over to the fireplace. Then she said, sounding shocked, “Severus? What are you–”

“Can you floo over to Albus’s office, Minerva? There is a lot to explain,” Severus said, interrupting her.

She gave him a slightly dubious look, but nodded her acquiescence. Severus pulled his head out of the fireplace, quickly got to his feet, and then stepped to the side. Only moments later, Minerva appeared where Severus had been.

“What’s going on, Severus? And what are all these students doing here?”

Severus glanced at the students, just to buy himself a moment to think and to plan his response. Then he said, “The first thing you need to know is that, only a couple minutes ago, Harry disappeared from this office. Albus is currently working on portkeys to get us to him. We need you to take the students somewhere and make sure they don’t do anything like try and follow us.”

He paused for a moment, then realized what he’d forgotten to mention. “And Albus had me take the antidote, everyone here knows I was Eli.”

Minerva looked as though she needed to process that, so Severus decided to turn away to ask Dumbledore something. “Albus? I don’t mean to interrupt, but would you like me to call the Order?”

“What? Oh, that would be great, thank you, Severus,” Albus said absently.

Severus nodded and turned back to Minerva.

“Please stay safe,” Minerva said. “I am apparently going to be too busy keeping an eye on our little knights in shining armor to be yours.” Then she turned to the students and said, “Alright everyone, come with me. We are going to my quarters, where my wife can help me keep an eye on all of you.”

She allowed the students to precede her out of the office. At the last moment, before she closed the door, she turned back and said to Albus, “And you owe me massive overtime for this.”

Severus stifled his laugh as she closed the door. Then he shook it off and focused on the matter at hand: calling the Order to Albus’s office. He got his wand out and focused on his memory of sitting with Harry and his friends in the Great Hall. Specifically, he thought of the moment where he’d felt included.

He forcefully fended off all the intrusive thoughts about how that was the last time that would ever happen, how that was the last time Harry would ever look at him kindly. Then, once he was sure the thoughts were properly balanced and he was focused on his happy memory, he cast the spell: “Expecto Patronum.”

Instead of the familiar doe that Severus had expected, what he saw was an unfamiliar bird. He stared at in consternation, taking in its thin, spindly legs, long beak, and small crest. He should have known his patronus would have changed, should have known that confronting his past mistakes would have left its mark on his soul. He had decided to let Lily go, and to do his best to make up for being so wrong about Harry, so of course his patronus would no longer be a doe.

He continued to stare at it for a long moment. He must have stared too long, because then Dumbledore said, “Oh! I see your Patronus changed! Let me see, is that a jacana bird?”

“I don’t know, and don’t you have better things to do?” Severus snapped.

“I am nearly done ensuring that the portkey will be able to break through Tom’s wards, but very well,” Dumbledore said, turning back to the portkey.

Severus glared at him for a moment longer. Then he realized that Dumbledore had confirmed what he had known, on some level, but hadn’t wanted to acknowledge. Harry was in Voldemort’s clutches.

He forced himself to shake the thought off and turned back to his patronus. He quickly decided to look into the bird– the jacana, possibly– further when he got the chance. For now, he sent it off to tell Kingsley, “There’s an emergency. Harry has been kidnapped by Voldemort. Come to Albus’s office, immediately.”

Then he conjured another patronus and sent it off, with the same message, to several more Order members.

He was about to conjure another one when Dumbledore interrupted him. “I have finished the portkeys. I have made three, so that if we need to call for help, we will have a way to do so. I wrote a note on how to activate it, and, once I have left, you should call Fillius and give him the letter. The other portkey will activate 15 minutes after I depart, which is probably the maximum amount of time I can safely stall Tom for. So be sure that everyone is touching it then.”

As Albus had spoken, he had pointed to the appropriate portkey. The time-delayed portkey was a stationary kit, and the portkey to give to Filius was a worn-down quill. When Severus looked up, he saw that Albus was holding a lemon drop. “And this,” Albus said, “is my ticket to Harry that ought to activate any–”

And then he disappeared. Severus took a deep breath to enjoy the sudden silence, then chastised himself for wasting time when Harry was still in danger. He hurried over to the floo and threw some powder in. As he got to his knees in front of the fire, he called out, “Filius Flitwick’s office!”

Then he stuck his head into the fire and looked around.

“Who’s there?” Filius asked from somewhere in his office.

“It’s Severus, can you come through to Albus’s office? There’s been an emergency,” Severus said.

“Very well,” Filius said, finally coming into view from behind a stack of books.

Severus quickly got out of the way again. It took a moment, but then Filius came through. And mere moments after Filius had finished brushing himself off, Kingsley came through the floo as well.

“Kingsley, would you mind waiting while I explain the situation to Filius? He has a different duty than the rest of us, and I would like to explain the situation to everyone else once,” Severus said.

“Of course,” Kingsley said, stepping to the side of the office.

Severus strode over to Albus’s desk, beckoning for Filius to follow him. Severus briefly explained the situation regarding Harry, then took his time explaining the portkey situation.

“Did you get all that?” Severus asked, getting antsy now, because almost everyone he’d called had arrived.

“Yes, I’ll just take this one,” Filius said, lifting the quill, “to my office, so I can get out of your way.”

“Thank you,” Severus said.

Filius ended up having to wait for Tonks to step out of the fire to depart. Once Filius was gone, Severus performed a quick head count and realized that everyone had arrived.

“Right,” Severus began. Then he explained the situation, yet again, for the group. A small part of him had worried that he’d been over reacting, perhaps because of his guilt regarding his treatment of Harry in the past. Severus had been worried that someone would call him out for only being concerned now, when he had treated Harry so poorly in the past. But everyone was entirely focused on the horror of Harry being torn, painfully, through space to Voldemort.

Severus checked his watch and saw that it was almost time for the portkey to activate, so he said, “Everyone grab on.”

It was a bit difficult to fit all of them around the stationary set, but they managed. There was a long, awkward moment where they were all standing around in silence, waiting for the portkey to activate. Thankfully, Severus had timed it reasonably well, because then the portkey activated.

When Severus landed, he immediately searched frantically for Harry. He spotted him almost immediately, over by where he could see Dumbledore fending off several Death Eaters– and Voldemort himself.

Thankfully, the rest of the Order members rushed in to occupy the Death Eaters, allowing Dumbledore to focus on Voldemort, and allowing Severus to run over to Harry.

As Severus approached, he could see what he’d initially missed. Harry was injured. There was an angry cut along his side, visible through the slice in his shirt. The skin on his arms seemed red and angry, and he trembled visibly even as Severus drew closer.

Severus realized, then, that he was no longer Eli, and that Harry had no reason to trust Severus. He plowed forward anyways, willing to risk it for the chance to heal Harry.

“Snape?” Harry asked faintly, when Severus got to him.

It was jarring to be addressed thusly, after growing used to being addressed familiarly by Harry. He nodded and said, “I’m going to heal you now.”

Harry frowned lightly, glanced over at where Dumbledore was busily duelling Voldemort, then looked back at Severus. He seemed to consider Severus for a moment, then said, “If you’re sure you don’t need to help fight.”

“The Order can handle it,” Severus said, and it was even true. A quick glance around the room showed that the few present Death Eaters were quickly being subdued. Severus got to his knees and gestured for Harry to sit down.

“This may unsettle you, so it’s better not to risk you falling over,” he explained. Then he began waving his wand in the complex motion to seal up the cut properly.

“It’ll probably be alright, I certainly spend enough in the infirmary to be used to it,” Harry said with a one shouldered shrug.

They fell into an awkward silence as Severus began to heal Harry’s arms as best as he could without potions. Unfortunately, Severus still did not have access to his robes, the ones with their stashes of potions, so he had to make do with spells. Which was upsetting, because he couldn’t think of any spells to help relieve the trembling that Severus could feel as he healed Harry’s arm.

To fill the silence, Severus impulsively said, “I made sure that your friends stayed behind. They are safe at Hogwarts.”

Harry leaned back slightly and stared at Severus in shock. “Why would you do that?”

He sounded grateful, but deeply confused, and Severus released a quick sigh of relief.

Severus rushed to order his thoughts. He had no idea how to respond without dropping the Eli bomb. Because Harry didn’t know about that yet, and Severus wanted to delay him finding out as long as possible.

“Severus Snape,” Voldemort called, slicing through Severus’s thoughts.

Severus’s head whipped up from where he’d been turning Harry’s arm over. Dumbledore was now occupied fighting Nagini, and Voldemort must have taken advantage of the opportunity to come for Harry, but been distracted by Severus.

“Voldemort,” Severus said flatly, climbing to his feet and readying himself for a fight.

“You dare?” Voldemort asked dangerously. “After all I’ve done for you, bringing you out of obscurity as a worthless half-blood? You would betray me like this, for another worthless half-blood?”

He continued, but Severus was distracted by Harry getting to his feet behind him. Severus wanted to do something like tell him to run, or push him away, but he thought that calling further attention to Harry was a bad idea, so he held his peace, hoping he’d be able to protect Harry when Voldemort inevitably started a duel.

Then Severus’s attention was caught by Bellatrix shrieking his name from somewhere behind him, his body automatically whipped around to find her.

The next sequence seemed to happen in slow motion.

Voldemort whispered, “Avada Kedavra.”

Severus began to turn back to face Voldemort.

Harry planted his hands on Severus’s chest and shoved him down, knocking him out of the way of the curse. Severus began to fall backwards, just in time to see–

The sinister green curse punched into Harry’s chest, knocking him back.

And Severus watched the light drain, slowly, horribly from Harry’s eyes. Severus finally landed heavily from the force of Harry pushing him out of the way. From Harry sacrificing himself for Severus. And the sight of dull green where there ought to be vivid emerald succeeded in emptying his lungs of what little air he had left.

He lurched to his knees and grabbed Harry’s wrist. Severus could distantly hear Bellatrix shrieking. It was like Severus was on another planet, though, where the only thing that mattered was finding Harry’s pulse.

It had to be there.

Severus pushed and prodded at first one wrist, then the other. He reassured himself that the pulse was sometimes hard to find in the wrists, and laid his fingers against Harry’s neck. When this, too, remained lifeless under his fingers, Severus felt a sob building in his chest as the realization finally sank in.

The realization that Harry was well and truly dead.

Harry regained consciousness slowly. It was as though one moment he had not existed, and the next he simply was.

He opened his eyes and was greeted with an endless sea of shades of white. He was lying down, so he sat up, realizing that he was on a bench. It dawned on him, then, that he was naked. As he had this thought, a set of robes appeared on the bench beside him.

He stood the rest of the way up and dressed himself. After he had finished pulling the robes on, he turned in a slow circle, surveying his surroundings. He realized that he was in what appeared to be an other-worldly version of King’s Cross Station. Because the real King’s Cross was not completely devoid of color the way everything here, except for Harry, was.

And, mere moments after he had that realization, Harry’s turning brought a child into view. Despite how far away the child was from Harry, they were readily visible due to the stark contrast of their silhouette against the white backdrop. The child was standing mutely and staring steadily at him.

Harry took a step towards the child, and the child took a step back from him.

He paused then, and returned the child’s stare. The longer he stared, the more... unsettled he began to feel. Harry thought that something about the child seemed familiar, and, pushing past the unsettled feeling, he tried to take another step towards the child, holding his hands up to make himself appear as non-threatening as possible.

It didn’t work, because the child took another step back, matching Harry’s pace.

Harry stopped again and squinted, trying to get a better look at the child so he could figure out what was so familiar about them. He must have been trying too hard though, because he could have sworn he saw the child flicker into transparency, then back again.

He was startled out of his staring contest when he heard, “Hey there, pup.”

Harry whirled around and saw that Sirius was standing just behind him. “Sirius?” He asked disbelievingly.

“Is that anyway to greet your favorite Marauder?” Sirius said, holding his arms up for a hug.

Harry rushed forward into Sirius’s waiting arms. Harry felt safer in Sirius’s arms than he had felt in ages. Sirius squeezed him tightly, then held Harry out at arm’s length. Harry blushed under the scrutiny and looked away.

“You look too skinny, Harry. Have you been eating enough?” Sirius asked worriedly.

“I’ve been doing my best. But, uh, what’s with that kid?” Harry asked, twisting in Sirius’s arms so he could point at the child. His stomach turned oddly when he realized that he couldn’t see the child anywhere.

“There was a child, somewhere…” He realized that he no longer knew exactly where the child had been, because the shades of white that the station was comprised of didn’t provide any noteworthy landmarks to help him remember where he’d seen them.

“Oh,” Sirius said solemnly. “I was hoping you wouldn’t have to see that.”

“See what?” Harry asked sharply, ready to get mad again about adults keeping secrets ‘for his own good’.

“That was the remnant of Voldemort’s soul,” Sirius said.

Harry inhaled, and then stepped back out of Sirius’s grasp entirely. “Voldemort’s soul? What was it doing here? And where is ‘here’? I’m dead, right? So where’s everyone else?”

“About that,” Sirius said, “you’re not as dead as you might think.”

“But,” Harry protested, the memory of being hit by Voldemort’s Killing Curse coming suddenly into his mind, “I was hit by the Killing Curse, I should be dead.” He wasn’t quite sure why he was protesting, but it just didn’t seem fair that he had once again survived something that had killed so many other people.

Sirius pulled him back into a hug. Without letting go, he said, “Oh, pup.”

Harry slowly brought his arms back up to hug Sirius back. It seemed they were going to have this conversation while hugging. “So, how am I not dead? And what was Voldemort’s soul doing here?” Harry asked.

“The answers to those two questions are related. And, well, I think you already know most of it. Think about the fact that there was a piece of Voldemort’s soul here. Think about the fact that Voldemort was able to follow a soul-tie to find you,” Sirius said.

The realization of what he was slammed into Harry with the force of a freight train. He’d had a piece of Voldemort’s soul in him. A piece of Voldemort’s soul– a horcrux, a distant part of his mind offered helpfully. A small slice of panic started to dig into Harry’s gut, but then Sirius squeezed him tighter and most of the panic receded.

“Hey there, it’s alright. You’re not a horcrux anymore. No matter what you decide, you will never be a horcrux again,” Sirius said soothingly.

“Decide?” Harry asked, his voice slightly muffled by the press of Sirius’s chest against his face.

“Decide if you want to go… on, or not. But let’s not talk about that just yet. You asked, earlier, where everyone else was. Well, I can tell you that your parents wanted desperately to see you, and they would be here if they could. But since only one of us could come to greet you, I was getting ready to fight your parents for the right, but then the most shocking thing happened,” Sirius said.

Harry was listening to what Sirius was saying, so he was mildly curious as to what happened next. But a large part of his mind was occupied with basking in the warmth of the hug and the soothingness of the vibrations of Sirius’s chest against his cheek.

“James and Lily told me to come. And I know you probably wanted to see your parents, but they sent me because, well, we know each other better. And if one of them came, they’d only have the chance to meet you for a bit before you’d have to go again. And they figured that you’ll have an eternity to get to know them, one day,” Sirius said, periodically rubbing soothing circles into Harry’s back.

Then he finally broke the hug, and Harry felt its loss keenly. It was abated somewhat by Sirius taking his hand and guiding him to a bench a little ways away. They sat down facing each other, Sirius still holding Harry’s hand tightly in his warm hands.

“But we still have some time, so what’ve you been up to since we last chatted?” Sirius asked lightly.

Harry paused and sorted through the memories of the past couple months and immediately rejected anything from his time at the Dursley’s. He didn’t want to bother Sirius with things that didn’t matter, especially since he got the feeling that Sirius had already known what was going on in his life and was just asking to make conversation. That left the past week or so to talk about.

“Well, McGonagall appointed me to be the Quidditch captain. Uh, we started the DA again. Oh! And I made a new friend, he’s a transfer from America, so he doesn’t get all caught up in my fame, which has been really nice...” Harry trailed off.

Sirius began to look a little agitated, and Harry had to review what he’d said to make sure he hadn’t said something wrong or bad or upsetting, but he genuinely couldn’t think of anything that could have been.

“Oh? A new friend, you say? Tell me more about them,” Sirius said, a little too quickly.

Harry hesitated, giving Sirius an odd look. Then he shrugged it off, deciding that Sirius must be interested in the oddness of getting a new yearmate so late in their education.

“Well, his name is Eli, he’s in my year in Gryffindor. He ended up getting dragged along with us when we found the horcruxes, and wasn’t freaked out and didn’t hate me or anything for it. Oh, and I think there’s someone who doesn’t like him, because he got hit with a really cruel prank spell while he was just walking outside the other day,” Harry said, searching his mind for anything else Sirius might be interested in hearing about.

He couldn’t think of anything though, so he trailed off into silence.

Sirius still seemed off as he said, “That’s cool, that’s cool, and he didn’t seem, I don’t know, at all familiar to you?”

Harry frowned lightly and said, “No, should he have?”

Sirius muttered something to himself, then he shifted in his seat and squeezed Harry’s hand tightly. “Never mind. Anyways, I have a bone to pick with you,” he said seriously.

“Did you say that just for the pun?” Harry asked. He had no idea what Sirius was talking about, the clear topic switch didn’t give him any clues as to what the new topic was. Not to mention the phrasing made him wonder if Sirius was just joking, or if he was actually mad about something.

“You,” Sirius said, releasing Harry’s hand from one of his own and gently poking Harry in the chest with it, “have got to start valuing your own life more. I cannot believe– well, I can believe it, because it’s you, but somehow that makes it worse, anyways– you sacrificed your life for Snape, of all people.”

Harry flushed and rubbed at the back of his neck with his free hand. “Voldemort was going to curse Snape in the back, though!” he protested weakly. “And Snape had just healed me, it was the first thing he did when he arrived. I don’t think he even stopped to see what the rest of the situation was, he just, came over to heal me right away. And he made sure my friends were safe, though I still don’t know why he did that. And if Voldemort wanted Snape dead, he can’t be that bad, can he?”

“We’re talking about you, pup,” Sirius said gently, “and I know it’s hard to accept, but your life is worth just as much as anyone else’s. You don’t have to be the hero.”

“But,” Harry said, “Voldemort was going to kill him. I had to do s–”

“You didn’t have to do anything, but I can see that this isn’t going to be something I can just convince you of in the little time we have, so I’ll let it go, so as to not waste any more of our precious time. Just know that there are many people who love you, and more importantly, I love you too.”

The warmth of Sirius’s words made Harry feel as though he were still being hugged. He smiled and said, “I love you too.”

Sirius released Harry’s hand, then grabbed him in another bear hug.

They remained like that for several long moments, and Harry gratefully soaked in the affection. Then Sirius released him and said, regretfully, “Speaking of time, I think we’re running out of it, so why don’t we talk about those choices I mentioned earlier?”

Harry felt a pang at hearing they were running low on time. He didn’t want to leave Sirius so soon, it felt like he’d just gotten here. “What choices?” Harry asked.

“As you know, Old Snakeface hit you with an Avada Kedavra. Normally, that would be it, the end of the line, etc etc. But you’ve never been ordinary and this is no exception. Prior to being hit by the curse, you were a horcrux. An accidental horcrux, really, because Voldemort never meant to make you one. The details of it are esoteric and–” Sirius swooped his hand over his own head.

“–way over my head. But basically, when he tried to kill you as a baby, part of his soul fractured off of his already piecemeal soul and latched onto you. That’s why you have that connection to him and that snake of his. And that’s why you saw that child.” Sirius gestured vaguely off into the distance, as though to imitate when Harry had tried to point out the child.

“But now, you’re not a horcrux. Your soul is whole and free. However, because of the ritual Voldemort used to make his new body, and the fact that Voldemort himself was the one to hit you with the Killing Curse, you got to come here, to King’s Cross Station. Which brings us to the choice you have. From here, you can board a train, and go on–”

“On?” Harry asked curiously.

“You know.” Sirius gestured airily. “On, the beyond, the afterlife, whatever you want to call it. Or you can go back and live your life.”

Harry opened his mouth to say something, but then Sirius continued, “We have enough time for you to give the decision some thought first. I know this is going to sound hypocritical coming from me, but don’t rush into a decision. And you should know that, whatever you decide, I will love you.”

Harry closed his mouth again and fixed his gaze on something off in the distance. He could see his parents again, he realized. If he boarded a train, he’d get to stay with Sirius and his parents, all of whom loved him. He’d never have to see the Dursleys again.

But then he thought about what he’d be leaving behind. He wouldn’t be able to see Ron or Hermione again. Or Ginny or Neville or Luna. He would never actually get to know Eli. He’d never get to teach the DA again. He’d never get to date anyone again. He realized, with a jolt, that if he went on, his only kiss would forever be with Cho.

He’d never get to have a future, if he went on. And, as he brought his gaze back into focus to look at Sirius, he knew that he did want a future. “I have to go back,” Harry said, a tinge of sadness in his voice. Because he would miss Sirius terribly, but Harry thought Sirius would understand.

“I thought you would say that,” Sirius said. He got to his feet and continued, “Give me one last hug before you go.”

Harry stepped into the hug and did his best to absorb as much of the warmth and affection as he could.

“I’m going to miss you, Sirius,” Harry said into Sirius’s chest.

“I will too, pup, I will too.”

Harry nodded into Sirius’s chest, and when Sirius squeezed him again, he felt his emotions finally catch up with him. He sniffled helplessly as he started crying, and then he tried to pull away so he wouldn’t get his tears or snot on Sirius.

“Hey now, none of that,” Sirius said, sounding choked up himself.

“I’m sorry, I just–” Harry said, voice still muffled by Sirius’s chest.

“I know. I know. But remember,” Sirius said, “This is not goodbye. It’s so long for now. Because we’ll see each other again, many, many years from now.” He finally released Harry from the hug and took a half step back.

“I love you, Harry,” Sirius said, taking another step back.

Harry wiped away several more tears, but it was a losing battle. “I love you too, Sirius,” Harry said, voice distorted by his crying.

And as King’s Cross Station faded away, he thought he heard Sirius shout, “And make sure you name a kid after me!”

Severus continued to hold onto Harry’s wrist for what felt like an eternity. The rest of the world continued to move around him, but he sat in the middle of it all, motionless.

Eventually, he heard a loud sound of distress from somewhere near him, and his awareness slammed back into his body. Harry was dead, but there was still work to be done. Severus leaned forward and closed Harry’s eyes. He climbed to his feet and looked around the throne room, trying to find who had elicited the distressed sound.

As he looked around, he saw that Voldemort was on the ground with several Death Eaters clustered around him. That clearly hadn’t been it, so he looked beyond them to where he’d last seen Dumbledore. And he saw that Dumbledore was also on the ground, and that Nagini was circling his body, as though to prevent anyone from approaching.

Severus realized that Dumbledore must have been grievously injured or otherwise incapacitated, because he was completely immobile where he lay upon the ground.

The sound from earlier repeated itself, and Severus whipped his head around, resuming his search for the source, and then he finally realized it was Fawkes. The phoenix was now landing by Dumbledore, and Severus started over towards them. He wasn’t sure what he was going to do to get past the snake that had managed to fell Dumbledore, but he felt as though he had to try.

Suddenly, when Severus was still several meters from where Dumbledore and Nagini were, Fawkes took off again. Dumbledore didn’t seem as though he had been healed, though, which was curious. And then, even curiouser, Fawkes flew towards Severus. He could now see that the Sorting Hat, of all things, was clutched in Fawkes’s talons.

Severus tracked Fawkes’s progress over to him. Then, when the phoenix was directly overhead, Severus saw the bird drop the Sorting Hat.

He automatically reached up to catch it, and because he couldn’t think of anything else to do with it, he put it on.

“Hello,” the Sorting Hat said pleasantly.

“Hello,” Severus replied reluctantly. It was odd to be wearing the hat again after so long. It now fit him properly, like a hat ought to fit, so he was able to continue his walk towards Dumbledore and Nagini without having his vision impeded.

“You know, I always enjoy it when I get the chance to talk to a student years after I’ve Sorted them,” the hat said.

Severus nodded absently as he was derailed in his path to Dumbledore by Travers. He pulled out his wand and prepared to flatten the man.

“Because it gives me the opportunity to see how you grow beyond the house you’re Sorted into as a child...”

Travers opened with a weak cutting curse that Severus easily absorbed into a shield. He parried with an overpowered Stupefy, hoping to end this quickly.

“...of course, I always say we Sort too soon... In any case, you are certainly one of the more interesting cases–”

Severus missed what the hat said next because, after dodging Severus’s Stupefy, Travers had cast a sonic curse, and Severus had to move quickly to block it. The hat was still chattering away, though, and he next heard:

“...quintessential Slytherin. But now the lines are blurrier. Being a spy and lying to Voldemort’s face took real, dare I say it, bravery! In fact...”

Finally, Severus was able to nail Travers with Expelliarmus, followed quickly with Incarcerous. He snapped Travers’s wand over his knee and dropped the pieces. Then he continued over to where Dumbledore was lying, his body entirely too still. Severus still had no game plan, he just knew that he had to try to do something for the man who had been the only one to give him a chance to be there.

“And there it is!” the Hat exclaimed. Then, contracting as though it were being squeezed, the Hat dropped something onto Severus’s head. Something very dense, and very heavy.

Severus paused and whipped the hat, along with– whatever it was– off his head. He looked into the Hat and saw that it now held a sword. He pulled it out and saw that it was Sword of Gryffindor.

He had the fleeting thought that the Gryffindor attitude was truly contagious, but then the sight of the sword jogged Severus’s memory.

This was what Harry had used to kill the Basilisk only a couple of years ago. And basilisk venom was one of the ways to destroy a horcrux. After the incident at Christmas, in the Department of Mysteries, Severus had known that Nagini was very likely a horcrux. Severus looked at the sword with new appreciation, thankful for the possibility that he might actually be able to do something about Nagini with it.

He resumed walking over to Nagini, and when he drew near, paused and simply stared at the snake. He was looking at her to try and find a weakness, and to formulate a plan of attack.

However, before he could manage either of those things, the snake stopped her circling to face him. And Severus automatically adopted a duelling stance, modified so he could keep both hands on the hilt of the sword.

Then the snake lunged at him, and Severus cut into her side with the sword as he dodged, managing to score a deep wound along her scales. He whipped around to face Nagini again, and saw that she had also circled around. This time he altered the way he was holding the sword, so that he could swing it with greater power, and when she lunged at him again, he brought the sword down hard.

And sliced the head off of Nagini.

He heard someone burst into applause from somewhere behind him, but he ignored it in favor of hurrying over to check on Albus. He knelt down to the ground and took Albus’s hand in his. Now that he was this close, he could see the puncture wounds from the snake in Albus’s side.

“Albus?” He asked, unsure if Albus was conscious or not.

“Severus?” He replied, his voice less lively than it normally was.

Reassured that the man was still alive and conscious, he asked, “Why didn’t Fawkes heal you?” He had to assume that Dumbledore had sent Fawkes away for some reason. Which was ridiculous, because a serious perk of having a phoenix was so it could heal you at a time like this.

Albus coughed, then said, “Because I told him not to. He can only heal someone once a year, and if he healed me, he would not be able to help Harry.”

“You fool,” Severus said angrily, “Harry is dead.” He looked over his shoulder, trying to spot the bird, to see if he could wave it back over.

“Harry may yet survive,” Albus said.

Severus whipped back around to face Albus. “What,” he gasped.

Albus nodded solemnly, and Severus tossed another look over his shoulder to where Harry was, then looked back at Albus.

Albus said, “Go see to him, Severus.”

Severus gratefully released Albus’s hand.

“I have to go,” he said quickly in farewell, then sprinted back over to where Harry was. Fawkes was crying onto the spot on Harry’s chest where the Killing Curse had impacted. Severus slid to a halt beside the boy and fell to his knees.

He grabbed Harry’s wrist, then stopped and forced himself to take a deep, calming breath before even trying to find the pulse, worried that if his own heart was beating too quickly, he’d feel his own pulse against Harry’s veins. Now that he was settled, he gently held Harry’s wrist in his palm and prodded at the veins slowly, looking for the pulse.

His heart began to sink when the veins remained still beneath his touch. He should have known better than to trust Albus like that, should have known better than to allow himself to hope.

Severus began to set the wrist back down, when he felt something flutter beneath his fingers. His own heart slammed back into action, pounding loudly in his ears, and he checked the wrist for a pulse, one last time.

And this time, he felt it.

A relieved smile began to settle onto his lips, and he searched Harry’s face for any signs of consciousness. The smile fell off his face when he saw that tears were leaking out of Harry’s eyes.

The first thing Harry felt was the ache of having to leave Sirius behind. Next, he became aware of all the aches and pains that had been blessedly absent at King’s Cross. But even now, they were oddly distant. It was though the warmth of Sirius’s farewell still lingered on his soul, pushing the pain back to the edges of his awareness.

Then he realized that he was still crying, and tried to lift his hand to wipe it away.

His eyes snapped open. Something prevented his hand from moving, so he bolted into a sitting position, panicked thoughts of being restrained by Voldemort running through his mind.

The thoughts were halted in their tracks by a stampede of confusion when Harry saw that it was Professor Snape holding onto his wrist, and the confusion only increased when he was that Professor Snape was looking oddly upset.

A moment later, Professor Snape dropped his hand and ordered his features, looking as expressionless as he normally did.

“Are you alright?” Harry asked.

Professor Snape gave him an incredulous look, then said, “You just died.”

Harry flushed and looked away as he said, “I’m fine, though.”

Then Bellatrix cackled loudly with glee and exclaimed, “My lord! He lives!”

This galvanized Harry to get to his feet as quickly as he could, drawing his wand as he went. He could sense Professor Snape standing up behind him as well.

Looking around, he saw a cluster of Order members gathered off to one side of the room, but at the sound of Bellatrix’s laugh, they moved as a group towards the remaining Death Eaters that were gathered around. Harry noticed that the Death Eaters were standing around the place where he’d seen Voldemort, but he couldn’t actually see Voldemort now. He wondered if Voldemort had been knocked back too.

Harry decided, when he saw Voldemort getting to his feet, that Voldemort must have also been knocked out. Harry shifted his stance into something more duel-ready.

Then Professor Snape stepped in front of him and said, “Harry, get back.”

Harry frowned and stepped out from behind him. Before he could say anything though, Bellatrix said, in that terrible baby-talk voice of hers, “Aww, is Sevvy-poo the traitor trying to protect Potter? How touching.”

Then she lashed out and threw some kind of non-verbal spell at Harry. Harry quickly shielded against it, and then Professor Snape engaged Bellatrix instead.

Then the group of Order members launched a new attack against the rest of the Death Eaters. They quickly spread out throughout the throne room, until Harry and Voldemort were facing each other alone.

“Potter,” Voldemort said, then, drawing Harry’s attention from where he’d been watching the action around him.

“Voldemort,” Harry said.

Voldemort drew his wand and Harry prepared to defend himself. But then, instead of pointing it at Harry, he whipped around, pointed his wand at what Harry finally realized was Dumbledore, and shouted, “Expelliarmus!”

Harry fleetingly hoped that Dumbledore was alright, but he couldn’t spare any further thought for him because he had to keep his attention on Voldemort, who was now stowing his own wand into his robes.

“I know, now, why I have failed to kill you so often,” Voldemort said, stalking to the side.

Harry followed his motion in the opposite direction, so that they were circling each other.

“Our wands are too connected to cast properly against each other, but you see now that I’ve switched wands. That will not be an issue again,” Voldemort said.

Harry faltered for a moment in his circling, feeling a pang at the loss of one of the few protections he had, but quickly resumed his motion.

“Do you think you could actually manage to point your wand at the right person, this time?” Harry asked mockingly.

Voldemort narrowed his eyes and flicked his gaze over to where Professor Snape and Bellatrix were still duelling each other. “At least this time, you won’t be jumping in front of a curse meant for someone as worthless as Severus.”

Harry rolled his shoulders back as he side-stepped. “Worthless? To you, maybe. But to the side of the light, he’s invaluable– it’s not just anyone who can spend years spying on you and live to tell the tale.”

“I know how he treats you,” Voldemort said, sounding perplexed. “Why, then, do you defend him?”

Harry rolled his eyes, and then regretted it a bit. All this circling was making him a little dizzy, despite how slow they were going. “Because I’m not the most important person in this war, and because I can see that he has worth beyond how he treats me. And maybe you view a person’s worth purely as their ability to be useful to you specifically, but that’s because you’ve never known the truly important things in life.”

Voldemort laughed mockingly. “And what are these oh so important things that you say I have never experienced– wait, no, let me guess. It’s Dumbledore’s favorite: the power of love,” he spat the word as if it were poison.

Harry thought he heard a pop of apparition, but quickly discarded the thought to focus on Voldemort.

“It is,” Harry said simply. Then he continued, thinking of the memories that shone golden in his mind. His memories of times with his friends and with Sirius, and what he imagined his parents must have felt for him to sacrifice themselves for him. “It’s friendship, it’s love, it’s family. Those are the things that make us human, and those are the things that matter in life.”

Voldemort stopped circling, and so Harry stopped too. There was a flicker of motion in Harry’s peripheral vision, and he hoped it wasn’t something dangerous.

“We will see what is truly important when your dead body lies at my feet,” Voldemort snarled.

They took a half-step towards each other, and Voldemort cast “Avada Kedavra,” the same time that Harry cast, “Expelliarmus!” And seconds after Harry’s spell cleared his wand, Professor Snape careened to a stop directly in front of Harry, mere seconds before Harry would have been struck– and killed– by the curse.

Harry automatically stepped around him to grab Dumbledore’s wand from the air from where it had been ripped from Voldemort’s grasp.

His hand had just closed around the wand, when he heard Professor Snape cast, “Avada Kedavra.”

Harry watched the spell’s progress until it collided with Voldemort’s chest.

Then Voldemort collapsed, his body striking the ground with a mundane finality. His body looked so much smaller and shrunken in death, in the absence of his malicious ego. His hands were empty, and as Harry approached the body, he saw that the snake-like face held no expression at all.

Even the crimson eyes were, now and forever, blank.

Then Harry spotted Riddle’s phoenix feather wand poking out of his pocket, and so he bent down to pick it up. It was too dangerous to simply leave that lying around, so Harry stuck it in his pocket, where it joined his growing collection of wands.

“Harry, get away from him,” Professor Snape said urgently from behind him.

Harry didn’t see the point though, so he gestured at the body of Tom Riddle and said, “He’s dead now. There’s nothing more he can do.” Then Harry swung his head around to stare at Professor Snape, who was walking over to him and said, “And, speaking of death, shouldn’t you be dead too?”

Professor Snape had arrived by Harry’s side, and was now quietly muttering under his breath, casting spells on Riddle’s body. After he finished casting, Professor Snape closed his eyes slowly, then opened them again. He looked around the room and Harry copied the action, finally seeing that the only people still standing were Order members.

Then Professor Snape said loudly, to the room at large, “Voldemort is dead.”

Everyone seemed to exhale a sigh of relief at this, and Harry felt his shoulders relax too.

Professor Snape turned to Harry and quietly said, “To answer your question, I am... not sure why the curse failed to affect me.”

Harry looked down and rubbed at his mildly aching chest and, after he had the vague hope that whatever was keeping his other aches and pains at bay continued to do, had an idea of what had happened with Professor Snape.

“I think that maybe it’s like what my mum did for me. Because I–” Harry faltered, then continued on, “I jumped in front of that curse to save your life, so Voldemort wasn’t able to touch you.”

There was a moment of silence, then Harry frowned and said, “But why were you close enough to jump in front of the spell? What happened to Bellatrix?” He didn’t ask what he really wanted to ask, which was why Professor Snape would have tried to sacrifice his life for Harry, because of course Professor Snape hadn’t known that he would be able to survive the Killing Curse.

“I had just beaten Bellatrix, when, unfortunately, she managed to apparate before I could finish her off. Then I rushed over to join you against Voldemort, conveniently in time to jump in front of his curse.”

“So that’s what the pop of apparition I heard was–” Harry started to say, but he was interrupted by Fawkes squawking loudly.

Harry whirled over to where the bird was, and saw that Fawkes was flapping his wings angrily. When Harry’s eyes landed on the bird, however, Fawkes settled down. Then Harry noticed that Fawkes was sitting by Dumbledore’s frighteningly still body. Harry looked down at his left hand, where he was still clutching Dumbledore’s wand, and felt his heart sink.

He rushed over, sure that Fawkes must have had a reason for getting their attention. He noticed, distantly, that Professor Snape was right on his heels.

When Harry drew near, he was able to see that Dumbledore was still alive, if barely. There was a worryingly large pool of blood around his body.

“So, you are alive,” Dumbledore said weakly.

Harry nodded and said, “I am.” Then he glanced at the wand again. Dumbledore’s hand was lying on the ground, palm up, by where Harry was. Harry placed the wand in Dumbledore’s hand, and said, “Here’s your wand back, sir.”

Dumbledore’s closed lightly around the wand and he asked, “How did you get it?”

“Well, Voldemort disarmed you, and then I disarmed Voldemort,” Harry said.

Dumbledore’s fingers uncurled from the wand. He said, “Then the wand is yours.”

“What?” Harry asked, making no move to take the wand. “That doesn’t make any sense, it’s still your wand.”

Dumbledore coughed shakily. Then he said, “It is yours. Take it.”

Harry shifted uncomfortably.

“Just take it, Harry,” Professor Snape said, galvanizing Harry to finally reach out again and reluctantly pick up the wand.

“Look, just because Dumbledore says it’s mine, doesn’t mean it is. Watch,” Harry said, giving the wand a wave like he had with his Phoenix feather wand in Ollivander’s shop five years ago. And then he froze in shock when the wand emitted a shower of sparks. After a beat of stillness, he slowly lowered the wand.

“It is yours,” Dumbledore repeated.

Harry discarded, for the moment, the oddness of the wand transferring ownership just like that in favor of asking, “Why are you still bleeding, sir? Why hasn’t Fawkes healed you?” Because he realized that Fawkes was simply standing near Dumbledore, and not crying on his wound like he ought to be.

“Fawkes has already cried once this year. He will not be able to heal me,” Dumbledore said.

Harry looked around frantically, as though Madam Pomfrey or any healer at all would appear. “Has anyone tried to get a healer?” He demanded.

Dumbledore shook his head minutely. “There is no need. It is almost my time to go onto the next great adventure.”

“You mean you have not had anyone call for Pomfrey?” Professor Snape sounded furious. Harry saw him draw his wand out of the corner of his eye.

“She will not be able to help me,” Dumbledore said.

Professor Snape said, “She can at least try. You just want to die like a martyr.” Then he cast his patronus– a bird of some kind– and told it to go tell Flitwick to urgently send Madam Pomfrey with a portkey.

“Before I go, it is time for one of our number to recognize the other for who he is. Severus… he deserves to… know.” Dumbledore said, his voice now beginning to falter.

Harry looked between the two men, a bad feeling rising in his chest. He had absolutely no idea what Dumbledore meant.

Professor Snape shook his head sharply.

Dumbledore heavily turned his head towards Harry and locked eyes with him. Dumbledore said, more faintly than before, “Severus is…” He gasped for breath for a moment, then continued, “Eli.”

“What?” Harry whispered. He replayed the words in his head: ‘Severus is Eli’. “What do you mean, ‘Severus is Eli’?” He fleetingly remembered Seamus and Ron saying that Snape was pretending to be McGonagall, could he have actually been pretending to be someone else entirely?

Whispering now, Dumbledore said, slowly, haltingly, “I sent… Severus undercover. As Eli.”

“Is it true?” Harry asked, breaking eye contact with Dumbledore, a tide of anger and betrayal beginning to rise within him.

One look at Snape told Harry all he needed to know, even before Snape said, “It is.”

Harry staggered to his feet as the anger and betrayal swamped his senses, making him see red. “You lied to me,” Harry snapped bitterly, not sure if he was speaking more to Snape or to Dumbledore. Then, to only Dumbledore, Harry said, “You swore not to lie to me, you reminded me of that today, in your office. The place where you swore in the first place. How–” He forced himself to stop as he spotted Madam Pomfrey hurrying over to him.

The portkey must have arrived.

“Move,” she snapped at Harry and Snape, pulling her wand out and muttering as she waved it in intricate patterns over Dumbledore.

Dumbledore’s eyes were closed, and he didn’t even twitch as Madam Pomfrey continued her work, her motions seeming to grow more frantic as she went. Then, suddenly, her shoulders slumped forward and her motions slowed. A moment later, they stopped entirely and she said, “I was too late.”

Harry said, “Is he–”

“Not yet,” Madam Pomfrey said, cutting him off. “But he will be soon. If you want to say goodbye, now is the time.”

Harry felt all the steam he’d built up in his chest escape him. His anger didn’t seem so important in the face of losing of the man he’d looked up to as a mentor for so long. Even if he hadn’t turned out to be a very honest mentor, after all. He got back down and placed his hand over Dumbledore’s.

“Good luck on your adventure,” Harry said quietly.

“Goodbye, Albus,” Snape said.

The other members of the Order were beginning to crowd around, so Harry withdrew his hand and got to his feet, weaving his way out of the crowd. There were some chairs alongside one of the walls, so Harry made his way over to one of them and sat down heavily in it.

And as soon as he was comfortable, all the aches and pains that he’d known were hanging about the edges of his awareness came crashing over him. He curled into himself, wishing desperately he had someone there to help him. But Madam Pomfrey was busy, and now that Harry knew about Eli, Harry doubted Snape would bother pretending to be nice again.

Harry felt as though he had lost two people, though it felt like the loss was a long ways away. He was beginning to feel emotionally exhausted after the hellish day he’d had. And he felt like he had lost two people, not counting Dumbledore, because he’d found out that Eli wasn’t even real. And Harry had just begun to feel as though he could actually trust Snape, and then Harry had found out that the man had been lying to him.

=At least Dumbledore had told Harry the truth now, because this way Harry hadn’t fully fallen for Snape’s game, whatever it was, and could guard himself against any future tricks Snape tried to play.

A small part of Harry wondered why Snape had bothered to be nice to him before Harry had found out that Snape was Eli, because Snape could have easily been as nasty as ever to Harry, and Harry wouldn’t have thought anything of it. Then Harry decided that Snape must have gotten so used to pretending to like Harry that Snape had forgotten that he didn’t need to pretend when he was in his own body.

Glancing over at the group of people crowded around Dumbledore, Harry saw that most people seemed to be done saying their farewells. He slowly got to his feet then and made his way over to the group, hoping that they would be going back to Hogwarts soon.

He desperately needed to see his friends. His real friends.

As he drew near the group, he heard Madam Pomfrey solemnly say, “He’s gone.”

Harry faltered in his step as the realization that Dumbledore was well and truly dead sank in. A small, childish part of him had still been convinced that Dumbledore would live forever, even though he’d known objectively that that wasn’t the case.

A moment later, he recovered enough to resume walking. He approached Tonks, who was standing off to one side.

He quietly asked her, “How am I supposed to get back to Hogwarts?”

She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye and said, just as quietly, “I think Pomfrey has a portkey that everyone going back to Hogwarts can take. The rest of us will be here for a bit to take care of the bodies.”

“Bodies?” He whispered.

Tonks turned to face him fully and said, “You didn’t know? Remus and Moody were killed.”

Harry felt a sharp pang at their loss. Remus had been the last living connecting to his parents and to Sirius, and Harry had hardly gotten to know him outside of school. This was quickly followed by the sting of guilt, because neither Moody nor Remus would have been here to die, if it weren’t for Harry.

He didn’t know what to say, so he nodded. He’d have plenty of time to work through his feelings later. Then he said, “I’m going to ask Pomfrey about that portkey.”

Tonks gave him a worried look and said, “Alright, I’ll see you around.”

“See you around,” Harry echoed, then slowly worked his way through the crowd to where Pomfrey was standing over by Dumbledore.

“Excuse me,” he said as he approached her, “Tonks said you have a portkey to Hogwarts?”

She blinked. Then she turned to face him and said, “That’s right, I’ll be activating it soon.”

“Alright,” Harry said.

Then Pomfrey reached out and gently took one of his arms. She tsked gently and said, “And you will be coming to stay with me for a little while. I haven’t heard the whole story, but I am sure that you need medical attention.”

Harry would have protested this, but he was beginning to feel like he was on the verge of collapse, so he only nodded weakly in response.

As he stood and waited, he slowly surveyed the group of people still hovering by Dumbledore. Unfortunately, in doing so, he made eye contact with Snape, who immediately headed towards Harry.

Harry felt himself stiffen slightly, ready for a confrontation.

Snape said, “Harry–”

“Don’t call me that,” Harry interrupted.

And Snape took a step back, his face closing off into the blank mask Harry was used to seeing.

Snape turned away from Harry slightly to face Madam Pomfrey and said, “We ought to go now.”

She nodded and pulled a tightly wound roll of bandages out of her pocket. “Everyone grab on,” she said, holding it out.

Harry placed his finger on the roll, standing as far away from Snape as he could manage. Then Harry took a deep breath.

And, as the portkey activated and the world began to whirl wildly around him, Harry realized, suddenly and unexpectedly, that he was about to head to Hogwarts to begin the rest of his life.