“You know,” Harry said, “it’s not too late to back out.”

“Back out?” Ron asked. “No, this is perfect, everything’s ready. Why would we back out.”

“Because it’s their birthday?” Harry said.

“Exactly,” Ron said. “They’ll really appreciate it. This was a great idea Harry.”

“I wasn’t actually suggesting it as something we actually do,” Harry said. “I just saw the potion in the book and thought about the twins. It seems a bit mean.”

“Teddybear spider Harry,” Ron said. “Giant teddybear spider.”

“See now,” Harry said. “When you talk about that, it seems more like this is about getting back at your brothers than it’s about pranking them as a birthday present.”

“Why can’t it be both?” Ron asked. “Come on Harry, you know they’ll think it’s brilliant. Also, we’ve already got everything done. Fred and George just ate the food we laced, you already tested the potions yourself, too late to back out, it’s going to happen, and everything’s going to go great.”

They were walking behind the twins. Dinner had just ended and Ron had convinced Oliver Wood to tell the twins that there was a quidditch meeting in an unused office. Silenced and under the invisibility cloak, there was no way the twins would know they were being followed.

“Which one…” Harry began.

“You’ve got the one on the left, I’ve got the one on the right,” Ron said. “If we mess that up we’ll just look to the twins like we’ve been Confunded, you know?”

“If anyone comes up on us while we’re doing this they’ll think we all have been,” Harry said.

“Well I’m pretty sure that won’t be an issue since no one else’ll have any business out here anyways,” Ron said.

Harry looked at his watch and put a hand on Ron’s shoulder. The potions would activate in 5, 4, 3, 2, 1. He gave Ron’s shoulder a squeeze. Ron sent off a tripping hex at Fred. George kept on walking, completely oblivious, having neither heard nor seen his twin brother fall. The two of them pulled off the cloak and canceled their silencing charm as Harry ran up to help Fred up, and Ron ran up to George who had noticed that Fred was no longer besides him.

“You all right there?” Harry asked.

“Yeah,” Fred said. “Too caught up in a future prank to watch where I’m going.” He looked around. “Hey, where’d you go, Georgie?” he called out.

“Who’s Georgie?” Harry asked.

“George,” Fred said dismissively. “My brother George,” he said in exasperation when Harry looked at him questioningly.

“Um, do you mean Ron?” Harry asked. “Or Percy, or is one of your older brother’s visiting for some reason. Wait, I thought there was a Bill and a Charlie, is there another one I haven’t heard of?”

“No, Harry,” Fred said. “My twin brother, he looks exactly like me only slightly less handsome.”

“Riiight,” Harry said. “Is this another prank, because I don’t get it.”

It was very hard not to look over his shoulder where Ron was having a very similar exchange with George a few meters down the hallway.

“Come on George,” he could hear Ron say. “If you’ve gotten up to mischief again you can’t go back to blaming it on your imaginary friend from when you were six. Back then you half had me convinced I did have another brother.”

The thing was, Fred couldn’t see or hear Ron or George at that moment; just as George couldn’t see or hear Fred or Harry. The twins had unknowingly taken the Perception Exclusion potion at dinner; Ron had said they’d never suspect Ginny, who had sat in between them. Fred’s had been charmed to respond to Ron and George, while George’s had been charmed to respond to Fred and Harry. Unless they literally ran into each other, they had no way to know that they were standing so close to one another.

“No Harry,” Fred said. “This isn’t a prank, he was just right here. Something’s happened to George. Why don’t you remember George?”

“Ummm…” Harry said, sounding confused.

“Damnit why’d the map have to go missing,” Fred said.

Harry shrugged, not knowing what map he was talking about. “Right, well I don’t know about remembering people who don’t exist,” Harry said. “But if, um, George, was just right here, then where did he go? People don’t just disappear into thin air and out of people’s memories.”

Fred gasped. “Not unless they’ve been attacked by a time leech,” he sounded strangled.

The week prior, Hermione had ‘conveniently’ read out loud from a book about rare, and probably mythical, creatures, the limit to her participation in the shenanigans.

“Well even if that were the case,’ Harry said. “If he got erased from time, how come you can remember him?”

“I don’t know,” Fred said dismissively. “It’s a twin thing.”

“Okay,” Harry said. “That doesn’t sound likely, but we should probably get a teacher. Professor Lupin is just down the hall.”

“Right,” Fred said. “He probably knows what to do…” Fred trailed off, staring over Harry’s shoulder at the wall a bit down the corridor. Harry looked back to see that George and Ron had gone silent, and that George had written, “It’s a prank, brother mine,” against the wall with magic.

“Oh,” Fred said, pulling out his wand to write back a reply.

“Sorry mate,” Ron called, "I couldn’t keep a straight face when he screamed ‘time leech’."

“Oh, is it Harry?” he heard George ask Ron.

“No worries,” Harry said. “I’m surprised it got as far as it did.”

“Oh, don’t say that Harry,” Fred said, slinging an arm around his shoulder. “If you don’t think it’s going to work it just makes it harder to sell it. So. Was professor Lupin in on this too? Was he going to carry on the time leech thing?”

“Turns out he was a bit of a hell raiser when he was a student,” Harry said, glad that neither twin seemed upset.

“So how long does this last?” Fred asked.

“About an hour,” Harry said.

“Well then you’ll just have to be my replacement twin,” Fred said. “We were just going to test out some Zonkos products.” He started dragging Harry down the hall. “But first we’re going to see Professor Lupin, I want to see how far he’s going to take this.”

Professor Lupin was indeed very convincing and it was a contest of which of the two of them could keep up the ruse longer. Professor Lupin gave in when Fred made like he was going to fire call the headmaster. Most of the Zonkos products wore off after a while, but Harry had baby blue hair and cat eyes for a week. Ron was not so lucky.


IIIIIIIIIIIIIII


Harry rather didn’t know where he stood with his dad. On the one hand, Professor Snape had asked Harry to live with him. On the other, Professor Snape had seen Harry through Aunt Petunia’s eyes. How could he not be questioning that decision now? His dad had said that he wanted Harry to be his son, but how long could that last? It seemed like so much had changed since the week prior, but on the surface a lot had stayed the same. Harry still helped out in the lab, they practiced Oclumency, and they still took meals together a few times that week. Everything had stayed the same, but everything felt different.

Harry was back in Professor Snape's quarters for another meal. This one was special though, Easter Sunday. It had never really meant anything to Harry before, just another special occasion the Dursley’s kept him in the cupboard for, but it felt nice that the two of them had gotten together specifically to celebrate a holiday.

“So I was wondering if you lived in the castle over the summer,” Harry said between bites of roast lamb.

“I’m afraid you won’t be using the quidditch pitch this summer, Harry,” Professor Snape said. “I live in Cokesworth.”

“Oh,” Harry said. “That’s where you grew up, isn’t it?”

Professor Snape nodded. “Though I have been putting some thought into moving somewhere more suitable.”

“Oh, please don’t move on my account,” Harry said, both horrified at the prospect and flustered by the thought that his dad might actually go through the trouble for him.

“It isn’t the best area for a family,” Professor Snape said. “And also, I suppose, I have been trying to get away from holding on to the past. It is the house I grew up in.”

Harry had been able to gather that Professor Snape hadn’t enjoyed his own childhood and thought a bit about what it would be like to live as an adult at Privet Drive.

“Still,” Harry said. “You don’t need to make any big changes on my account. I’ve really already got everything I need and I can mostly take care of myself. It’ll be like having a flatmate.”

One of Professor Snape’s eyebrows rose.

“I have no intention of treating you as a flatmate, Harry,” Professor Snape said.

“Right,” Harry said. “But I’ll be super low maintenance. I won’t get in the way of your summer projects or anything.”

“I fully intend to work spending time with my son somewhere into my busy summer schedule, Harry” Professor Snape said. “There is no need for you to feel as though you are intruding when it is I who has asked you to come live with me.”

“Right,” Harry said. “But you can, you know, tell me if I’m bothering you, or if you need me to do things or not do things.”

“Ah,” Professor Snape said. “Do not fear that there will not be ground rules; for the both of us.”

“You?” Harry asked.

“More as a reassurance,” Professor Snape said. “That matters will be different with me than they were at Privet Drive.”

“Oh,” Harry said. He turned his attention to his plate and moved his mashed potatoes around a bit.

“You’re different,” Harry said. “From before.”

“I won’t change back,” Professor Snape said.

“You said you used occlumency to change yourself,” Harry said.

“In a way,” Professor Snape said.

“Ron said you were able to completely mimic me when you tried to trick Greyback,” Harry said.

“That was temporary,” Professor Snape said. “It wasn’t the same thing. I’m not pretending to be someone different right now, Occlumency gave me clarity, I saw what I wanted to change and then I worked on that. The mental arts help me solidify those changes, but it isn’t like flipping a switch. There is much of who I was that is still with me, but I work every day to be who I would like to be.”

“How do you do that?” Harry asked.

“How do you do that, is what I believe you are asking,” Professor Snape said. “I have told you, you are not broken Harry.”

Harry stared at his plate for a while.

“Occlumency is not merely a mental discipline,” Professor Snape said. “It is a magical art that affects your mind. Witches and Wizards have destroyed themselves trying to alter their own minds.”

“You did it,” Harry said.

“I was broken,” Professor Snape said. “And I was careful. The flaws I saw in myself had not been painted in my mind by the vitriol lavished upon me by my guardians since I was an infant. I would like to work with you on your perception of yourself, but you do not need to change who you are Harry.”

“Right,” Harry said.

Professor Snape sighed. “We’ll talk about purpose visualization during your next Occlumency lesson,” he said.

“Was that in the book?” Harry asked.

“No,” Professor Snape. “It isn’t an Occlumency technique so much as it is a technique that works well with occlumency. But enough about that for now, tell me how you’re coming along with the last match on it’s way.”

“I’m no collaborator,” Harry said.

“I wasn’t asking for Gryffindor’s strategies,” Professor Snape said. “Though you are welcome to tell me if you should like.”


IIIIIIIIIIIIIII


Along with Easter and the twins birthday, April brought quidditch fervor into the castle. Not only was the final quidditch match approaching, but students around the castle were tuning in to the wireless to catch the final few matches of the national tournaments before the international games started. Hermione was keeping them to a rather fast paced study schedule as finals approached, but then so too was Oliver. As the last game of his Hogwarts career neared, Oliver’s fervor grew and grew. As much as he loved it, Harry was going to breath a sigh of relief when the final match was over.

“Hey, Potter,” someone called after him as he left the library to head down to practice. Harry turned and saw Cedric Diggory walking over to him.

“Um, hi,” Harry said. “How’ve you been.”

“Good, good, you?” Cedric asked.

“We’ve got quidditch practice in just a bit,” Harry said. “Oliver’s gone insane.”

Cedric smiled and Harry wished he could feel as carefree and relaxed as the older boy looked. Or maybe just be the rest of the way the boy looked. Cedric was sort of unfairly cool. “I'm jealous of Gryffindor for having the last game of the year,” Cedric said, he motioned for Harry to keep going, and Harry turned and headed for the stairs, Cedric walking besides him.

"You could be playing too if you hadn't switched with Slytherin," Harry said.

"It was the fair thing to do," Cedric said.

Harry rolled his eyes.

“It’s going to be a big game this year,” Cedric said. “Now that we’re out of the running, and Ravenclaw too, the only thing that’s going to be standing in the way of Slytherin keeping the cup again is Gryffindor.”

“Oh this is a pep talk,” Harry said. “I’ve heard a fair few lately.”

“Just thought you should know you’ve got most of the school rooting for you,” Cedric said. “Also, I wanted to see if you wanted to fly on Sunday. Cho already said she’d come.”

“Cho?” Harry asked.

“Cho Chang,” Cedric said. “Ravenclaw’s seeker. Think you’ll join us?”

“Sure,” Harry said, feeling really good that the older boy had invited him. “I’ll look forward to it.”

“Great,” Cedric said. “I’ll see you then.”

Having reached the entrance hall, they parted ways, Harry to the pitch, and Cedric to his common room. It would be nice, Harry thought, to play around on the pitch outside of practice.


IIIIIIIIIIIIIII


"Alright now," Benjamin said. "I'm going to grab each of your wrists from behind."

This one was trickier than some of the others. After the older teen had grabbed him from behind, Harry stepped forward and to the side, going down to one knee while he brought his right arm over his head to meet the other. The effect caused Benjamin to over balance and let go, falling into a roll that had him popping back up to face Harry.

"Good job," Benjamin said. "Now I'm going to do a choke hold. This time, I want you to maintain control of my arm after you get out.”

Harry hated those, but he had to practice.

“So are you going to take your DADA final with us?” Benjamin asked after they were done for the evening.

“Well I am a bit reluctant to take two DADA finals this year,” Harry said. “I’d still have to take the third-year test.”

“Yeah, but think of it this way,” Benjamin said. “If you go into fifth year defense next year, you can take your OWL next year also and then you’ll have one less OWL to worry about in your fifth year.”

“Maybe,” Harry said, still reluctant to take classes without Ron or Hermione. “It’ll all be up to next year’s defense professor if I can take the fifth-year class though.”

“Like they’d say no,” Benjamin said. “You’re a natural at defense.”

He had plenty of motivation anyway, Harry thought, unsure of what to do with the praise Benjamin gave him.

“I wish I was a natural at the muggle sort,” Harry said.

“You’ve gotten loads better,” Benjamin said. “You’d probably do better with an actual teacher, but I’ve sure enjoyed getting to practice a lot.”

“You’ve been a great teacher,” Harry said. “I just wish I was big like you.”

“You’ll get there,” Benjamin said, eyeing Harry who was still the shortest boy in his year (and shorter still than many second years). “Besides, I keep telling you, size isn’t everything. Even the mighty fall.”

What other hope did Harry have should he ever face Greyback again.

“You should find a dojo over the summer,” Benjamin said. “Or a gym or something. You don’t want to go, like, stagnant or something.”

“Right,” Harry said. By unspoken signal, they both headed towards the door to head back to Gryffindor tower. Since the night that Harry had been attacked by Eckelson, Benjamin had always walked back with Harry. Harry hoped he wasn’t interfering with the older boy meeting up with Anna, who Harry was pretty sure was Benjamin’s girlfriend. It was nice though, to not have to worry about bumping into Eckelson as he walked back to the tower in the nearly deserted castle corridors. The older boy was still bitter about his plethora of detentions and he was still jinxing Harry in the halls if no one was looking. Harry was still worried for another direct confrontation.

On the walk back to the tower, Benjamin joined the many people who had wanted to pass on their encouragement to Harry for the upcoming Quidditch match. With little more than a week until the big game, the team was getting a lot of attention. Harry wondered what it was like for Malfoy in Slytherin. He had never gotten the sense that the same camaraderie existed in the dungeons, or rather, that their fellowship had a different flavor than Gryffindor’s.

Malfoy had been on Harry’s mind rather a lot of late. Besides having been the one who had started the rumor that Harry was a werewolf, and thus being partially responsible for Harry being poisoned and beaten up, Malfoy had been acting odd of late. Or rather, he was acting odd for himself. Harry couldn’t actually recall the last time Malfoy had said a cross word to him, or paid him any of the attention he used to spend on Harry. As well, it seemed that there was some sort of shift happening in Slytherin house. The whole lot of them were as secretive as ever, but Harry wasn’t the only one to notice that something was going on. Harry doubted that any of it, whatever it was, was good. His dad was being tight lipped about it too, which Harry thought was unfair.

Harry and Benjamin parted ways when they reached the tower. Harry had a lot of work to do if he wanted to take both year’s defense final.


IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII


The day everyone had been anticipating finally came. The school had spent three years since the last quidditch final and a fair few had been heard speculating that surely something would happen to derail matters again this year. Even Harry had felt that it was probably best not to get his hopes up that the match would actually happen. His dad had wished him luck the night prior but had also made a point to say that he would of course be rooting for Slytherin to win. Harry had been confident enough to tell him that he would be by later to console him for Slytherin’s loss.

Oliver was clearly very nervous for his final school game and his last chance for the cup.

“And just remember Harry,” Oliver said for the second time during his pep talk. “For the point spread, we need to be thirty points ahead when you catch the snitch or we’ll win the game and lose the cup.”

Harry, who had heard this every practice and meeting since the previous quidditch game, just nodded his head and resisted the urge to ask, ‘wait, when we’re thirty points ahead, or when they’re thirty points ahead?’

“We all came here to win today,” Oliver said. “We’ve trained harder than everyone else and we’ve got the best damned team this school’s ever seen, so go out there and give it your all.”

It wasn’t long before Lee Jordan’s booming voice announced them, and they flew out of the locker room to face Slytherin. Harry hovered in the air opposite Malfoy as Oliver and Flint met in the middle with Madame Hooch. Malfoy held his gaze with a calculating stare. Harry was nervous for this match. He had bested Malfoy the year prior, but this time he would have to be careful not to catch the snitch too soon and he would have to stop Malfoy from catching the snitch at the same time. Add to that that Malfoy had the faster broom and almost as slight a build as Harry did, and Harry knew that he was going to have to play like he’d never played before.

The quaffle was tossed, and Harry flew off to play his part. Much like Cho Chang’s tactics from the previous game, Harry focused mostly on Malfoy. If Malfoy spotted the snitch, Harry would have to intercept him. A seeker was constantly on the lookout for movement, focused on finding that tiny little ball zipping around the pitch. Harry made sure to fly through Malfoy’s line of sight frequently to distract him. He was tempted to try a Wronski Feint, but he knew Malfoy was as much aware as Harry was that Harry couldn’t go for the snitch until Gryffindor was up by thirty points.

Malfoy, for his part, did his best to ignore him, though Harry could tell he was getting on Malfoy’s nerves. They played that way for a long time. Harry staying ahead of Malfoy, occasionally interfering with the Slytherin chasers. The game was fairly lockstep for a while, neither team scoring very much as a fierce battle waged between the chasers and the beaters. Everyone knew it was a points game. The Slytherin beaters weren’t going to go after Harry unless Gryffindor was thirty points up, and until then they’d focus on making sure Gryffindor didn’t get those points. For their part, Fred and George knew that Malfoy was Gryffindor’s biggest threat and they were split between protecting the chasers and going after the seeker. With no player being able to hold the quaffle for longer than three seconds, the ball was constantly being tossed from chaser to chaser and turnovers were frequent.

Harry spotted the snitch twice before Draco did, it was very hard not to give chase. Gryffindor was ten points up when Draco spotted the snitch. If Harry hadn’t spent the past hour and a half marking the boy, he would have missed the barely visible tell as the golden ball caught Malfoy’s eye. Draco’s eyes tracked the ball, clearly not wanting to give away to Harry that he had spotted it, while waiting for the ball or Harry to move in a direction that would guarantee his victory. Harry was waiting too, his attention split between Draco and the snitch while trying to pay attention to the game around him and not give away his ruse. He saw one of the twins going after a bludger. He shoved two fingers in his mouth and whistled shrilly. Fred had spent ten minutes teaching him how the week prior. Malfoy made his move and so did Harry, flying in to impose himself between the other boy and the snitch. Draco was forced to pull up short; he was ready to go around Harry, but he wasn’t ready for the bludger sent his way in his moments' pause. Malfoy’s gauntleted arm shot out to take the blow and the boy spun in the air from the impact before he was able to right himself. Harry looked around for the snitch, but it was nowhere to be seen. Malfoy glared at Harry, the first real sign of their rivalry since the game had started.

In the roughly ten seconds that the whole exchange had happened the stands had gone wild with anticipation. Lee Jordan, who Harry normally tuned out if he was playing, was giving very excited commentary and he could hear Professor McGonagall telling him to tone things down. Gryffindor was ten points up and Harry was still marking Malfoy. The longer the game went on, the more of a chance Malfoy had of catching the snitch. Harry decided to keep marking Malfoy, but he paid a bit more attention to the Slytherin chasers, interfering with them whenever they were close by. Gryffindor scored another goal. This was the first time Gryffindor had been twenty points up since the game started. Slytherin scored not much later.

The game wore on, and Harry spotted the snitch twice while still waiting for the scores to be just right and it was always so hard to keep himself from going after it. The score was ninety to eighty when Angelina got the quaffle past Bletchley. Harry couldn’t help keeping a closer eye on the chasers after that as the two teams battled for the ball. Angelina, Alicia, and Katie were flying like they were doing a choreographed dance while Warrington, Pucey, and Montague flew evoking the images of birds of prey. There was a tension among both teams as Katie took possession of the quaffle and started heading towards Bletchley. She tossed to Alicia who tossed the quaffle over Pucey to Angelina. Harry passed through the formation forcing Warrington away from Alicia, though the bigger boy elbow checked him as he veered off, back to the chase. Harry flew off after Malfoy and had just flown right across the blond boy’s path when he heard the ding. Alicia had just scored and Gryffindor was thirty points up. Harry didn’t waste the opportunity.

He was already in front of Malfoy so he knew the other boy would see him. Harry dove. He kept himself at about a fifty degree angle from going straight down, he kept his head pointed forward, making sure he didn’t look back. A seeker didn’t take his eyes off the snitch. He could just see Malfoy out of the corner of his eye. He had taken the bait. Harry kept making course corrections, as he would if he were truly following a snitch trying to evade him. Then, fifty feet from the ground, Harry shot straight down, one hand outstretched. He heard the whistle of a bludger coming and did a corkscrew to evade it, feeling it graze his hair that flew behind him. Five feet from the ground Harry leveled off and let himself bleed off speed. He looked over his shoulder.

“Nice try Potter,” Malfoy called.

Harry shrugged in response.

The watching crowed was cheering and jeering, most of them had been taken in by the ruse as well, and likely had thought the game was coming to an end. The game continued, and now that Gryffindor was thirty points up, Slytherin’s beaters started paying attention to Harry. This kept Harry busy while at the same time taking some heat off of Gryffindor’s chasers. The point difference oscillated for another half an hour before Gryffindor was forty points ahead. It was still, of course, anyone’s game. It wasn’t long before Harry got too close to a bludger. Of course, it wasn’t anything to pause the game for, he’d had worse on a good day with the Dursleys.

The thing about the Wronski Feint, was that you couldn’t ignore the other seeker. If it looked like they were chasing after the snitch, then you had to assume that they had spotted the snitch. When Malfoy dove towards the sand pit below the pitch, Harry followed. Harry couldn’t see it yet, but if it was there, then judging by the angles, Malfoy was closer, and regardless, was on the faster broom. Harry pushed everything he had into going as fast as his broom could go. The odds were in Malfoy’s favor, but the game wasn’t over until one of them had the snitch in hand. Of course, quidditch was never a game between two people. Fred sent a bludger after Draco not long before Bole sent one at Harry. The snitch too didn’t stay in one spot, or fly in a straight line either.

Malfoy leveled off a hundred feet off the ground, he was moving in Harry’s general direction. Harry still couldn’t see the snitch, and if Malfoy was getting ready to do a feint, then he’d want Harry right on his tail. Harry had to do a flip in midair as something tiny and shiny flew by him in the opposite direction about ten feet to his right. His momentum carried him backwards several feet before he could get a forwards vector going.

Now both Malfoy and Harry were in hot pursuit of the snitch, which chose that moment to plummet to the ground. There was a reason the Wronski Feint was an effective move; the snitch had only so many evasion tricks charmed into it, and one of them was to dive and play chicken with the seekers. Harry and Malfoy dove towards the ground, both of them, their hands outstretched. Malfoy had a slight lead, and with his broom that lead was only going to grow. As the ground got closer and closer, the distance between the two flyers and the golden ball got smaller and smaller. The question was, was the snitch going to level out or was Malfoy going to catch it as it plummeted. The ball got closer and closer to the ground; Malfoy’s fingers were inches from the ball when it pulled up and started flying horizontal to the ground below. Draco’s lead carried him further towards the ground before he leveled off, while the few feet Harry was behind, and his faster reflexes, allowed Harry to follow the snitch directly.

The chase was still on though, and Malfoy was only just behind Harry as they moved in on their target, Malfoy’s Nimbus 2001 gaining till they were side by side, their fingers just inches from the snitch. Harry heard the whistle of a bludger, but there was no way he was moving out of the way till he had that snitch. A bludger impacted, but not with Harry, he heard an ‘oomph,’ from the blond boy next to him, and suddenly it was only Harry in pursuit. Three seconds later, Harry had caught the snitch.

The sounds of the stadium came rushing back to him and there was a cacophony of cheering. Harry held the snitch up in the air, a broad grin splitting his face. He only had a few moments before he was surrounded by his teammates. Fred and George were slapping him on the back, Kattie, Angelina, and Alicia were hugging everyone, and Oliver had tears on his face as he cheered. Harry hadn’t felt so light and ecstatic in forever.

They did a victory lap around the pitch, and landed for the presentation of the Quidditch Cup. Madam Hooch formally announced their victory, and Professor Snape handed the cup to Oliver, who held it up in the air to the cheers of the crowd. The cup was no longer in Slytherin’s possession. Harry nervously caught his father’s eye, wondering if he was disappointed; if he was angry. He got a small nod of his head, more than he could really expect in public.

“I could kiss you, Harry,” Oliver said with his arm slung over Harry’s shoulder as the team entered the locker room.

“Please don’t,” Harry said. Oliver laughed and ruffled Harry’s hair which had Harry ducking his head with a smile.

“I’m sure I don’t have to say this, but we are partying tonight,” Oliver called out.

“Already on it,” George said.

“All you have to do is show up,” Fred said.

Later, Harry would have a sneaking suspicion concerning where the butter beer and snacks had come from, though his lips would be sealed. They all changed quickly and made their way up together to be greeted as though they were returning champions from war.


IIIIIIIIIIIII


With the Quidditch Cup over, Harry suddenly had a lot more time in his busy schedule. This was fortunate, since finals were coming up in less than two months and all of the professors were piling on the homework as though theirs was the only class he had. It was mid May when Harry finally handed off the finished writeup for his third year project to Hermione for her approval. Doing the potions experiments wasn’t enough. He had to gather all the data, compare each test, draw conclusions, and write it all up in a format that would pass muster. Both Professor Snape and Professor Flitwick were going to have to sign off on it, but Harry was done. Now all he had to do was resist Hermione’s influence next year, because there was little doubt she’d try to get him to do a fourth year project.

“You’re sure you don’t want to change this quidditch analogy, Harry?” Hermione asked, handing him back his writeup.

“It’s a good analogy,” Harry said. “Besides, I’m done. I am very done with this project.”

“Wish I could say the same, mate,” Ron said. “I’m going to be doing this chess project for years.”

“The important thing,” Hermione said. “Is how much progress you’ve already made. You’re animation spells are really improved and that paper you charmed to play tic tac toe with you was really good.”

“It lost almost every time,” Ron said. "I'm pretty sure random guesses would have been better."

“It’s a stepping stone,” Hermione said. “Oh, and delimiting. That's a fifth year technique and now you have it down so well. At the start of the year, do you think you would have expected to be able to do any of those things right now?”

“No,” Ron said. “It’ll be cool if I ever get good at this stuff, but it’s frustrating right now.”

“You’re getting better,” Hermione said. “You’re one of Professor Flitwick’s favorite students right now.”

“Whereas you’re every professors’ favorite student,” Ron said.

“Well, I’m pretty sure Professor Snape barely tolerates me now, and I’m also pretty sure Harry’s Hagrid’s favorite,” Hermione said.

“Also she pied pipered herself and us out of Professor Trelawny’s class,” Harry said to Ron. “I’m pretty sure Hermione isn’t on her favorite’s list.”

“Fair enough,” Ron said. “But every other Professor. I mean with all of your classes, there’s so many of them. How did Muggle Studies go yesterday? It must have been so hard to take notes when you were sitting next to me in Arithmancy.”

Hermione just smiled, having taken to ignoring questions about her impossible schedule. His project done, Harry flipped open his Runes homework and started scratching out runes in a wooden practice tablet.

“The big question,” Harry said, trying to be more precise with his penknife. “Is how you find time to work on so many extracurricular projects.”

“Coffee helps,” Hermione said.

“You only stay up as late as we do,” Harry said.

“Oh I do, do I?” Hermione said. “I wasn’t aware you were privy to what goes on in the girls’ dorm.”

“And where are you getting coffee?” Ron asked. Caffeine wasn’t exactly banned, but it was frowned upon outside of tea or chocolate and Harry doubted that coffee was served anywhere outside of the teacher’s lounge.

“I have my sources,” Hermione said.

The twins, Harry suspected. It wouldn’t explain everything, but if Hermione could somehow get away without sleeping, then that might explain some of how she managed everything. There was no doubting though that part of it had to be her single minded drive and fast work pace.

“So how’s summer coming along?” Ron asked Harry.

Harry shrugged. “We’re getting along well,” he said.

“You don't sound convinced,” Ron said.

“It seems too good to be true,” Harry said.

“You deserve to have a father you get along with,” Hermione said. “Do you know where you’re going to live?”

“Probably out in the country,” Harry said. “Professor Snape’s going to want someplace to grow potions ingredients and I’m going to want to go flying.”

“There’s a fair few plots in Ottery St. Catchpole no one ever developed,” Ron said. “We could see each other all the time. A few other families from school live around too. The Diggory’s, the Fawcets, and the Lovegoods.”

“The point right now is to keep it a secret,” Harry said. “Can’t exactly have the new neighbors coming around. As long as we’ve got a floo, I’ll be visiting whenever you want. Really, as long as I’ve got a place to stay that isn’t number four Privet Drive, I’ll be fine wherever we go.”

“So, wherever it is it probably won’t be a wizarding village if you can’t be seen together by other wizards,” Hermione said.

“Yeah,” Harry said. “As far as anyone else should be concerned I’m still with the Dursleys.”

“I still don’t like this secret stuff,” Ron said. “It seems really off if you ask me.”

Harry couldn’t tell his friends that his father was a spy against Voldemort, though he thought Hermione suspected, so he had no good reason to give them for why Professor Snape was keeping him a secret.

“It’s fine,” Harry said. “Besides I don’t want to be the center of attention when everyone finds out.”

It would also make it easier should Professor Snape decide he didn’t really want Harry in his life after all. It would be better if the whole world didn’t know that his own father couldn’t stand him.

“Are you looking forward to the summer?” Hermione asked.

“Oh,” Harry said. He didn’t think he’d ever really look forwards to the summer. Summer meant leaving his home. But what if things went well? What if he could have his home away from home?

“I don’t know,” Harry said. “Things are nice right now. I think I’ll just have to wait and see.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Ron said. “Don’t forget, I’m your back up plan. I will totally kidnap you if things don’t go well.”

Harry smiled for the support.

“Thanks,” Harry said. “And thanks for everything, the both of you. I don’t know how this is going to work out, but my plan for the summer would probably still involve just winging it at being homeless if you hadn’t prodded me a bunch.”

“We just want you to be safe,” Hermione said.

“And happy,” Ron said. “You’ve got to make sure it isn’t just homework and chores over the summer.”

“My dad mentioned something about making sure I didn’t wallow in teenage boredom the other day,” Harry said. “I think he’s going to try hard to make sure this works. Same as me. He’s really gone out of his way for me already.”

“You sound like you feel guilty about that,” Hermione commented.

Harry shrugged. “It’s not like he decided to become a dad. It just sort of got sprung on him.”

“Well sure,” Ron said. “But lots of people don’t always plan on becoming parents. That doesn’t mean they don’t have to try to be good at it. Mum and dad wanted a big family, but I can tell you, the only reason I was born after five kids was because they were trying for a girl. Just because I wasn’t what they were going for, doesn’t mean they ever treated me like I wasn’t wanted.”

“What if Ginny’d been a boy?” Hermione asked.

“Oh, I don’t even want to know,” Ron said. “I could have had five older brothers and five younger brothers. Mum would still be changing nappies.”

“Yeah, but either way, your parents wanted children to begin with,” Harry said. “I don't know about you, but I’m pretty sure, Professor Snape never thought how great it would be if one of his students just followed him home for the summer.”

“Let’s put it this way,” Hermione said. “Does Professor Snape seem like the type of person who would put in this much effort into something he didn’t want to do?”

Harry bit his lip and looked back at his essay. “He does have a strong sense of duty,” Harry said.

“I don’t know what to tell you, mate,” Ron said. “As strange as it is, ‘cause it’s Snape, not you, I think he wants this as much as you do.”

“Hmm,” was Harry’s response to that. He shrugged and turned back to his homework. Ron sighed and got back to his. The thing that worried Harry wasn’t so much that Snape didn’t want things to work out, rather, that the man didn’t know what he had gotten himself into.


IIIIIIIIIIIII


A lot of things would be easier if Harry was not the boy-who-lived, Severus thought. A lot of things would be easier if Severus were not a spy. By and large, he was becoming more and more convinced that, though Harry seemed largely unscathed by the deprivations of his childhood, he still had a number of issues that lay under the surface, coloring his perception of the world and of himself. Occlumency was helping, a small amount, but Harry was still a novice, and occlumency could only do so much.

A part of Severus was tempted to return to Privet Drive, to extract every detail of his son’s childhood there so he could understand exactly what was going on in his head, although he knew that hearing every insult wasn’t going to give him that. Severus didn’t know exactly what the problem was, what went on in his son’s head, but he knew that he needed to help him. Counseling would be ideal, but between safety considerations and the necessity for secrecy surrounding much of Harry’s life, counseling wasn’t a likely solution.

Mental health in the wizarding world largely involved the use of highly specialized and trained legilimency, and Severus wasn’t about to experiment with that on his son. In the end, he felt the only thing he was left with was muggle knowledge on mental health. Unfortunately a foray to a muggle bookstore had produced contradictory materials that he was having trouble parsing together. He suspected that he should probably consult with a muggle professional; he did not have too much trouble passing in the muggle world and he could likely get some good advice.

Looking at Harry now, it was difficult to tell that anything was wrong. Harry had grown much more comfortable around Severus, they had grown closer, but Severus could tell that there was still a tension there. Harry was waiting for Severus to decide that he did not want him for a son. Part of that was surely their own checkered history, but Severus was sure that it largely centered around a self esteem that had been destroyed after years in the care of the Dursleys. Yet today, Harry had joined him in his lab while his friends went to Hogsmeade, and Harry was smiling and conversing and making occasional jokes with an impish grin and Severus could almost tell himself that the job was done; that he had shown Harry that he cared about him, that there was something to care about, and now the issues were solved. But he knew better than that. Emotional scars did not disappear like that. Severus did not miss the occasional frown or worried look cast in his direction. His son was constantly assessing their situation; he was constantly worried that he had said or done something wrong. He was constantly wondering where he stood with Severus.

The flinches were more rare. An unexpected movement could cause the boy to react. Severus had previously taken Harry’s occasional hyper vigilance to be a result of the numerous attempts on his life, yet now he saw a child who was used to having to defend himself in a domestic setting. There were also the glances he would cast at the door, or rather, the exit, particularly when it was closed. He always wanted to know that he could make a quick escape. Severus didn’t make a thing of it. Making him more self-conscious wouldn’t help.

“Just under four weeks until the end of term,” Severus said to Harry over tea. “It does look like we’ll probably be moving into the outskirts of Somerset.”

“Will I be able to fly?” Harry asked. The boy’s most pressing concern.

“Seclusion is one of the search criteria,” Severus said. “The headmaster will assist us with any warding that is necessary. You should be able to fly to your hearts content without worrying about being spotted by muggles. Next weekend I thought you might accompany me to a couple of prospective homes.”

“You want me to come with you?” Harry asked.

“You will be living there too,” Severus said. “You should have some input.”

Harry worried at his bottom lip. There was a flash of trepidation that was quickly gone.

“That’ll be fun,” Harry said, with a grin. “Are we going to be polyjuiced again?”

“Indeed,” Severus said.

“Are you going to make me pint sized again?” Harry asked.

“You seemed to enjoy yourself the last time,” Severus said. “Unless you have a preference.”

“Oh, whatever you have on hand is fine,” Harry said, reluctant as always to ask Severus to go out of his way.

“Ninety year old wizard it is then,” Severus said.

“Oh,” Harry said. “Well, maybe not that.”

“Do not worry, you will have an appropriate disguise,” Severus said. “A body suitable for a walk in the backwoods of the countryside.”

Harry was silent for a moment.

“Are you sure this is what you want?” Harry asked, not making eye contact. Severus was sure he wasn’t asking about the cottage in Somerset.

“It is,” Severus said. “The question is, is it what you want?”

Harry shook his head. “I’m the interloper.”

“You are my son,” Severus said.

Those words used to make the boy smile. Today he looked conflicted.

“An obligation,” Harry said.

“Yes,” Severus said. “An obligation I am happy to take on. There are fathers, Harry, who meet their obligation with an allotment of gold every month. I want more than that with you. Please keep in mind that I enjoyed your company before I knew you were my son.”

Severus did get a smile this time.

“So what’s happening in Slytherin?” Harry asked, changing the subject. His son had noticed many of the subtle changes that had been occurring among Severus’s House and though he did not understand what was happening, he was very curious; a trait to be cultivated in Slytherins and feared in Gryffindors.

“Virgin sacrifices and bloodstone rituals,” Severus said.

“I mean besides the usual,” Harry said.

“Oh,” Severus said. “Well, besides the usual dark wizardry, I do believe Miss Addison and Mr. Elspeth are planning a theatrical review.”

“Slytherin’s putting on a show?” Harry asked.

“There are students from multiple houses who are involved,” Severus said. “But it is being organized by two of my students. Not all ambitious Slytherins plan on becoming the next dark lord, Harry. The most renowned Chef in Britain came from my house. As did a significant portion of the top players in the professional quidditch leagues.”

“So what will we be seeing?” Harry asked.

“Well I do believe Miss Addison and Mr. Elspeth are performing a scene from Macbeth,” Severus said. “I do not know what else is planned.”

“So a play about murdering people to gain political power,” Harry said, a cheeky smile tugging at his lips.

“A play about what happens to those who seek power at all costs,” Severus said.

“They’re not dressing up as trees are they?” Harry asked.

Severus didn’t know that much about the Scottish play, outside of cultural references, but he knew that there were a bunch of people who pretended to be trees for some reason.

“Most likely they will be the Lord and Lady Macbeth,” Severus said. “I have not enquired past ensuring that there will be nothing too troublesome to a first year. Or rather, a first year’s parents.”

“Oh, so no one’s getting stabbed on stage?” Harry asked.

“If they do,” said Severus, “it won’t be in the script.”

Harry smiled at that. They spent the remainder of the afternoon brewing and talking. Severus didn’t see any more frowns or second guessing on Harry’s part. Of course, that didn’t mean there was nothing under the surface. Harry would relax around him, let his guard down, but still there was the boy who had been raised in a cupboard, and Severus couldn’t let wishful thinking trick him into thinking his son didn’t need help.


IIIIIIIIIIIII


Harry left Professor Snape’s lab a bit before dinner, planning on catching up with Ron and Hermione after their trip to Hogsmeade. Though he had been to Hogsmeade a couple of times with his dad, Harry was still a bit jealous of his friends’ free rein of the town. Still, it was nice they had time to themselves, where they didn’t have to deal with Harry. He really needed to put on a better face. If they knew he was worried about the summer, then they would worry about him over the summer. It wasn’t fair to them. It was good they had time to themselves.

Harry waited in the entry hall as students trickled in, returning from Hogsmeade. It had been over a month since the Quidditch Cup and Harry still got high fives from students passing him as he waited. As the arriving students thinned out, and Harry’s stomach started to growl, he started to dither on waiting for the two. They would find him at the Gryffindor Table, Harry was sure.

Harry picked at his food, not wanting to finish eating before Ron and Hermione showed up.

“Eating alone?” Fred asked. The twins were leaving the great hall. They had returned from Hogsmeade and eaten already. Harry looked at his watch; he looked around the very full Great Hall. It looked like everyone was back. Everyone except Ron and Hermione.

“Did you see Ron and Hermione today?” Harry asked.

“Saw them a few hours ago,” George said. “They were having a late lunch.”

“Oh,” Harry frowned. Even if they had skipped dinner they would have found Harry wouldn’t they have? Hermione was never late.

The last time he couldn’t find them after a Hogsmeade visit, he had found them leaving Professor McGonagall’s office. Harry looked to the head table where Professor McGonagall sat on the opposite side of his father from Professor Dumbledore. Something was wrong.

“Can you ask around?” Harry asked, getting up from the table. He started walking up to the head table.

His first instinct was to go see his father, but that would look strange. Under ordinary circumstances, he wouldn’t dream of telling any professor that his friends were late coming back from the village, but Greyback was out there and Harry couldn’t help but think of Ron’s words. That when he didn’t know where Harry was, he was worried that he had been kidnapped or worse.

Before Harry got up to the professors, Argus Filch had run up to the head table, making a bit of a scene. He whispered something into Professor McGonagall’s ear. Professor McGonagall frowned and stood up, her eyes scanning the hall. Harry reached the head table.

“Mr. Potter,” Professor McGonagall said. “Do you know where Mr. Weasley or Miss Granger are?”

Harry shook his head, feeling as though he was about to cry as his stomach turned. “Hermione wouldn’t be late coming back,” he said.

There was silence among the professors and a large part of the Great Hall. Professor Dumbledore stood up.

“All students will stay where they are for now,” the headmaster said. “Until everyone is accounted for.”

“Does anyone know the whereabouts of Ronald Weasley, Miss Granger, or Mr. Erstwhile,” Professor McGonagall asked.

The hall was silent a moment before a cacophony of whispers broke out. Harry could feel the weight of many eyes on him and he turned around to look at the student body. He could see the twins huddled with Percy and Ginny. Fred glanced back at Harry. Whatever was going on, they all knew that it probably had something to do with him. Whatever was going on had to do with Greyback, he just knew it. Harry thought about the secret passage to Hogsmeade and the invisibility cloak in his pocket.

“Mr. Potter, please come with me,” Professor McGonagall said. She had already come around the table and was standing next to him.

“Can you find them?” Harry asked.

“That is what we shall see,” Professor McGonagall said. “We will know more when we are in the headmaster’s office.

Harry nodded, turning to follow Professor McGonagall. Professor Dumbledore, Professor Lupin, and his dad walked with them.

“If we’re going to look for them, shouldn’t the Weasleys come too?” Harry asked.

“We will notify them if we discover anything,” Professor Snape said, his hand on Harry’s back, guiding him along the empty corridor. Harry didn’t know if he wanted to shrink away from the contact or draw strength from it. “The reason you are accompanying us is so that we can ensure that you do not leave the grounds before we can seal them off.”

“It’s me Greyback’s after,” Harry said, urgently. “I can help.”

“Greyback wants a pack,” Professor Lupin said. “There is no guarantee that he would let them go if he were to get his hands on you.”

“It is too early to speak as though we know where our wayward students are,” Professor McGonagall said.

“If Harry is convinced that Greyback has kidnapped his friends, then it is unlikely that we will be convincing him otherwise without actual proof,” Professor Snape said.

Harry knew he wasn’t going to convince anyone to let him help look, so he spent the rest of the walk to the headmaster’s office in silence. His dad was right. There was little anyone could do at that moment that would convince Harry that Greyback wasn’t responsible for his missing friends. He knew it in his gut, and it was all he could do then not to imagine his friends at Greyback’s non-existent mercies. He felt as though he were going to throw up what little food he had eaten. He remembered the promise he had made to Mrs. Weasley the night before the school year had started, that he wouldn’t be the ruin of her family.

They arrived at the headmaster’s office and Harry had very little to do as Professor McGonagall and the Headmaster waved their wands over ancient scrolls and muttered incantations. He stayed close to Fawkes’s perch, silently willing the magical bird to fly him away to wherever it was that he needed to be.

“Our missing students are not in the castle or on the school grounds,” the headmaster said. “Minerva, please fire-call the ministry, Severus, I will ask you to alert the mayor of Hogsmeade.”

“Can’t you track them or something,” Harry asked. He turned to his father. “You said Greyback would be able to track me if I was on my own. Can’t you track Ron or Hermione.”

“We have, Mr. Potter,” Professor McGonagall said. “Their magical signatures are being blocked. It is the same reason Fenrir Greyback was not recaptured the day he escaped from Azkaban.”

“Then that means…” Harry turned to his father.

“If their magical signatures are being blocked then it is most likely that they have been kidnapped,” Professor Snape said, looking at Harry with an unreadable expression.

Harry sat down hard on the floor. He didn’t breathe, he didn’t move. For a moment, everything seemed to stop. Even moments before, when he had already been certain that Greyback had taken them, he had not felt this dread.

“No,” Harry said, shaking his head. “No, I can get them back. He wants me.”

“He can’t have you,” Professor Snape said fiercely, coming down to his level to put his hand on his shoulder and look him in the eye. “I won’t let him, I won’t let you.”

Harry shook his head.

“You must stay here. Minerva, Severus,” the headmaster sent them back to their tasks. “I will see to the grounds.”

The two professors left through the fire to carry out their duties.

“Why did he take that other student?” Harry asked.

“It is difficult to say,” the Headmaster said. “I can see no other connection between yourself and Kevin Erstwhile other than that he was perhaps nearby your friends. The wrong place at the wrong time."

"He wouldn't have taken him on a whim," Professor Lupin said. "He's too methodical. He has a plan."

Harry shook his head, not wanting to hear just how good Greyback was at getting away with every horrible crime he committed. He stood up off of the floor as the headmaster pulled out a large crystal ball that he started working over. Harry was sure it was fascinating, but he could not pay attention to it. He let the headmaster work. The sooner he was done, the sooner something else could be done.

“What happens next,” Harry asked when the headmaster lifted his head from the crystal.

“The Aurors will search for clues from the abduction,” the headmaster said. “Three students have been taken Harry, the ministry will leave no stone unturned.”

“They haven’t found him yet though,” Harry said. “They’ve been looking for months. The next full moon’s in three days!”

“Fenrir Greyback has made a bold move,” the headmaster said. “He is taking risks, he has added a great many variables. The chances that he will make a mistake have increased greatly.”

“I can’t wait for him to make a mistake,” Harry said.

“There is a also the possibility that once he has you, Harry, that he will kill those he has captive when he no longer has need of them,” Professor Lupin said. Harry flinched. “You are older than the children he usually targets, and he may not want you to be able to draw strength from your friends. Sacrificing yourself for them on their behalf will accomplish nothing. It will take a planned extraction to ensure their safety.”

“Then use me as bait,” Harry said. “I’d be a good distraction, and then you can get them out.”

“I will not trade one student’s life for another,” the headmaster said. “That is not how this will end. Know that your interference could very well seal their fate.”

“It’s better than doing nothing,” Harry said.

“We will not be doing nothing,” the headmaster said. “We will be assisting the aurors. You will be staying safe, so that Fenrir Greyback still has need of living captives.”

Ron and Hermione were gone. Harry felt useless. Back to the beginning, it was his mistakes that had let Greyback roam free. It was he who had failed. It was he whom Greyback wanted, and it was Ron and Hermione who were paying the price.

“Remus,” the headmaster said. “Could you please bring Ronald’s siblings here.”

Harry’s heart plummeted.

“Of course,” Professor Lupin said, sounding grim. He patted Harry on the shoulder and left.

“Can I go?” Harry asked.

“Yes, Harry,” the headmaster said. “Though you father will likely wish to see you when he returns.”

Harry nodded. He didn’t know how long Professor Snape would be, and he didn’t want to see anyone else, so he wandered the castle for a while, mired in his own thoughts and recriminations. He would see his father later, and he would be told that it wasn’t his fault, and that it wasn’t his responsibility, and Harry would nod his head and wait for something to change.


IIIIIIIIIIIII


“Is this part of the plan?” Amelia asked Albus after they had discussed the current efforts to find his missing students.

“Matters are moving as they must,” Albus said. “Soon, the students will be returned and Fenrir Greyback will be dead.”

“I suppose there was simply no way to keep matters on track without doing this to your students. I suppose their traumatization is essential to your plans to defeat Voldemort.”

“Unfortunately it is,” Albus said. “These events shape Harry greatly. Protecting those he loves is his primary driving force. Mister Weasley and Miss Granger are also essential to the final outcome. These experiences will also shape them in becoming the people they will need to be.”

“It all rests on the shoulders of children, then?” Amelia asked.

“I have seen it all play out,” Albus said. “I have seen it all transpire in so many ways. But it is always their generation that leads the charge. Not their parents' generation, not their grandparents', and certainly not ours. I know who will win this war. I would take it all on myself if I could, but I cannot. I could make myself feel better by trying to spare them. I could try to defeat Voldemort. Yet the chances are that I would fail. I would fail, and I would leave an uncertain future upon the backs of children who have not been prepared. We do what we must Amelia.”

Amelia nodded. She knew the answer. She knew that greater sacrifices had been made for this plan. She knew that it was likely that greater still would be called to end the evil that was Voldemort. Yet she knew too the evil that was Fenrir Greyback. She was tired of loosing so much to the war that had never truly ended, and she did not shy from the knowledge that those children were not being treated well.


IIIIIIIIIIIII


Severus would have rather avoided a meeting with Draco just then, but he had certain appearances that had to be kept up and there were still matters that needed to be addressed within his house. Harry was withdrawing and Severus supposed he needed his space, yet still; he felt that he should be with his son at the moment, instead of playing house politics. In addition to Harry, though, his Slytherin’s needed him as well. One of their own had been taken, and Severus added another item to the list of reason’s he wanted to kill Fenrir Greyback.

“Do you think Potter’s going to go after Greyback?” Draco asked.

“He cannot,” Severus said. “Mr. Potter is stuck within the grounds of the castle. You will not be rid of him so easily, Draco.”

Draco was silent for a moment. “There’s some saying Potter’s going to go after him and get Erstwhile back,” he said.

“He very likely would have tried,” Severus said. “The headmaster, however, has made sure that he cannot leave. Do you know Mr. Erstwhile well?”

Draco shook his head. “Greyback’s not supposed to go after pureblood Slytherins,” he said. “He supported the Dark Lord.”

“He worked with the Dark Lord,” Severus said. “Greyback never supported the Dark Lord’s politics, he merely saw him as a means to an end, as the Dark Lord saw Greyback as a means to an end. How are your housemates holding up?”

Draco shrugged. “They’re holding up. Emily Perkins has been keeping an eye on the first years. They’ve been pretty spooked. There’s plenty of people who’re angry, of course.”

“You said that there have been some who think Mr. Potter will come to the rescue,” Severus said. “What are they saying about Mister Weasley and Miss Granger?”

“Not much,” Draco said. “People are really upset about Erstwhile. Some people are angry at Potter because it’s him Greyback’s after. I don’t think anyone’s going to miss them if that’s what you’re asking about.”

“What do you think of them now?” Severus asked.

Draco paused. “Well they’re the enemy,” he said.

“The enemy of what?” Severus asked.

Draco rolled his eyes. “Fine, whatever, I just don’t like them. It’s been forever since I’ve actually wished they’d get carried off by one of the Gameskeeper’s pets. Isn’t that good enough. You act as if you want me to be friends with everybody sometimes.”

“A player who is friend to all is either exceptionally good at the game or he is not accomplishing anything of worth. However, I do not ask that you befriend all of your peers, merely that you see that there is a value in life and a tragedy in death.”

“Okay, maybe I see your point in Granger. She’s probably going to discover another stupid use for dragon’s blood or something. But what value do you ascribe to Weasley’s life?”

“I do not know that he shall ever be a wizard of note,” Severus said. “Yet I have found myself in his debt, unexpectedly. I would not have anticipated that his life would ever add value to mine, and yet, it did.

“The headmaster is peculiar,” Severus continued. “He is rather fond of expecting the best of people, and I do believe he is often poorly paid for it. However, there are times when he is handsomely rewarded. The scales, at least, seem to tip in his favor. You do not need to like someone to recognize that their death would be a tragedy, or that their loss would hurt others. Slytherin and Gryffindor are both struck by a loss right now, and both are waiting to know which side of fate this event will fall. You have a lot in common right now.”

Draco’s eyes widened. “You want me to make inroads to Gryffindor,” he said. “Now?”

“That would be transparent,” Severus said. “Small gestures, however, would be remembered for the future. Think on it. Do you wish to be a leader to all or a leader to some.”

Draco nodded. “What on earth did Weasley do, though, that you’d consider yourself to be in his debt?” he asked.

“He gave me some advice,” Severus said. “On a matter that is none of your business.”

Draco pondered that for a moment. He didn’t seem to be in the mood for one of his usual quips.

“Do you think the Aurors are going to find them in time?” Draco asked.

Severus paused, unsure if he should give his answer or not.

“It is unlikely,” Severus said. “But not impossible.”

Draco nodded. “I have work to do, I suppose,” he said, turning towards the door, he paused though, his hand on the knob.

“Ask,” Severus said.

“Are you doing the same thing with Potter?” he asked.

Severus didn’t bother to ask what he was talking about.

“I told you in the beginning,” Severus said. “The two of you have different purposes in life. I am preparing him for his, as I am preparing you for yours.”

“Isn’t that McGonagall’s job?” Draco asked, turning to face him.

'It’s his father’s,' Severus thought. Though he did not want Harry to walk the hero’s path anymore.

“If you want a job done right…” was all Severus said.

Draco shrugged and left. There would likely be more questions in the future, when the current matter was done with, one way or another.


IIIIIIIIIIIIIII


Three days passed. Three days of agonizing worrying. Three days of sitting with Ron’s brothers and sister in silence because he couldn’t do anything but apologize when he opened his mouth. The Weasleys senior had visited their children and Harry could not make himself look Mrs. Weasley in the eye. He couldn’t understand how she could hug him too after she had seen to her own. He couldn’t stop thinking of his friends being torn apart under the light of the full moon.

His father was keeping a close eye on him, but had recognized Harry’s need to wander. With the school on lockdown, no one was really keeping too close of an eye on him. Really, the only thing keeping him in the castle was Professor Dumbledore’s words that Greyback would likely kill Ron and Hermione once he got his hands on Harry. That, and the hope that the Aurors could find them. That they could find them with less than an hour before the moon rose. Harry took little comfort from wandering the upper recesses of the castle.

“You’re mine boy,” a voice said behind him. Harry spun around, drawing his wand. He didn’t recognize the older slytherin boy who stood before him, but judging by his bloody tattered robes, bruised face, and vacant stare, Harry could guess that he was facing Kevin Erstwhile.

“You’re mine,” the boy said, and Harry could imagine Greyback’s voice addressing him. “Your friends have been fun, but it’s time for you to join the pack. There’s a knot at waist level on the North side of the whomping willow. Tapping it will stop the branches and let you into the tunnel hidden below. Follow the tunnel to the Shrieking Shack. It’s a bit of a hike so you’d best hurry; you don’t have much time. Tell no one. If I get so much as a whiff of anyone but you coming to the rescue, your friends will die before you can get through the door. Tic tock, Potter. Tic tock.”

His message done, the boy started reaching into his robes.

“Stupefy,” Harry said. The boy didn’t put up a fight, he just fell.

There it was. This was Harry’s chance. He would save them. No matter what, he would save them. But he’d be damned if he followed Greyback’s instructions. Harry started towards the statue of the humped-back witch, looking around for someone he could trust as he moved along. He had less than an hour. He had next to no time at all. He had no idea how long it would take to run there, but Greyback had made it sound like he’d be too late if he didn’t hurry.

Harry spotted someone suitable up ahead.

“Hey, um, Sammy,” Harry said.

“Harry,” Sammy said, turning to face Harry with a nervous pitying look. Harry knew it wasn’t easy addressing someone who was facing loss. She hugged him. “Hi. Um... How are… things.”

“Better,” Harry said, trying to sound confident for the first year hufflepuff’s sake. “I found out where Greyback is, but I need you to do me a favor,” Harry told the first year.

“Of course,” she said, looking scared. “I don’t think I’m good in a fight though, but I... I'll try my best.”

“Don’t worry about that,” Harry said. “I need you to carry a message for me. To Professor Snape. Tell him Greyback’s in the Shrieking Shack and I’m going to go find him. Okay? But Sammy, this is the important part. You can’t tell him for…” Harry looked at his watch, “thirty minutes. I need a head start. He said he’d kill them if anyone but me came. So I need a head start okay? If you can’t find Professor Snape, find another professor, okay?”

The professors could get there almost instantly, so if Harry failed, they should be able to get there soon after he did. Sammy nodded her head, very wide eyed. Harry knew it was a lot to put on a first year, but he really needed that head start. The professor could use the floo to get out of the castle. With luck though, Harry would already be there. But if the Professors got there first, Greyback would kill Ron and Hermione.

“Alright,” Harry said. “I’m going now. You’ve got a watch?”

Another head nod from the wide eyed first year.

“Alright,” Harry said. “Thirty minutes.”

He took off through the corridor. He felt in his pockets for his gloves and his invisibility cloak. He sure wasn’t going to be walking through any doors. He wasn’t going to be playing Greyback’s game. He checked his back pocket, where he kept that single glove, the one that was supposed to have been burned with the rest of the prototype, the one that was dangerous. He sure as hell wasn’t going to be Greyback’s new chew toy come moonrise either; he would rather die.

Harry was running now, he had to be fast. He had just gotten to the third-floor landing when a spell impacted his side, sending him crashing to the ground. He watched helplessly as his wand fell out of his hand and flew over the banister, falling to the entry hall, two flights below. Harry grunted in pain as his entire side cramped up. He forced himself up. There was Eckelson, mopping the floor for one of his detentions, acting like he hadn’t just hexed Harry.

Harry could have screamed, but he didn’t have time to scream; he didn’t have time to run down two flights of stairs, and then back up. He didn’t have time to find his wand. He looked at his watch. He’d still need a wand to get through the tunnel though. He started running. Crouching low, he took Eckelson out at the knees with a wordless yell. They went into a sprawl. Harry jabbed the boy in the throat and took a slug to his eye in turn. Eckelson drew his wand, but Harry had been practicing manual disarming for months. The wand was his now, and a spell knocked out Eckelson. It only took two tries with the new wand and another blow to his stomach. Harry got up and started running again, glad he had succeeded in using the other boy’s wand. Perhaps by the end of the night, he would have Greyback’s, but he couldn’t focus on that now. He could worry about Greyback’s wand later, when Ron and Hermione were safe.

Harry reached the statue. “Dissendium,” he said, tapping the humped back of the one-eyed witch to open the tunnel. Harry managed narrowly to not fall down the stairs in his haste. He was already winded. He had to slow down after a while, a stitch in his side, as he alternated running and jogging to make it through the tunnel. He kept one eye on the uneven terrain and one eye on his watch, counting down the minutes to the rise of the full moon.

Harry threw on his invisibility cloak before he got to the end. Phasing through the trap door in the cellar of Honeyduke’s, Harry ran out past a confused man who didn’t understand why his door had opened on its own and made it out into the town of Hogsmeade. Harry got himself oriented and ran off towards the Shrieking Shack, leaving silent footprints in the dirt road.

Fifteen minutes to go, Harry stopped outside the back of the shack. No point in going through the front door. It was tempting to just barge in, but Harry stopped to catch his breath first. He tried to listen, to hear anything that might be going on inside, but the shack seemed as abandoned as it usually did.

Between the cloak and his silenced insoles, Harry should be able to slip in and Stupefy Greyback before the man even knew he was there.


IIIIIIIIIII


Severus watched Lupin drain the potion with satisfaction, happy to keep the man in check. He turned to leave when the door was slammed open rather abruptly.

“Professor!” Miss Eldrich cried when she ran through the office door. “Professor Lupin, I need to tell you, I waited like I was supposed to, but then I couldn’t find Professor Snape, and it’s really urgent, and Harry’s going to be eaten and it’s all my fault.”

“Slow down Miss Eldrich,” Lupin said. “What’s going on.”

“Where is Harry?” Professor Snape said, dread filling him.

Miss Eldrich looked over to him, clearly relieved to have found him.

“Harry told me to tell you that he had found out where Greyback was and that he was going after him and that I had to tell you they’re at the Shrieking Shack, but that I had to wait ‘cause if anyone else shows up first Greyback’s going to kill them, but I couldn’t find you and now it’s late and they’re going to get eaten.”

“No one is going to get eaten,” Professor Lupin said.

Severus had no time for placating students; he was already out the door.


IIIIIIIIIIII


Harry wasn’t really expecting to find them on his first try, but there they were when he phased through the first wall. He had been prepared to find them hurt, he had seen what Greyback had done to his messenger, but he hadn’t really been prepared for the reality. Ron looked the most black and blue, and bloody, but it was Hermione’s thousand-yard stare that really gave Harry pause. She was trembling slightly, and there was a twitch under one of her eyes. He wondered if they'd eaten anything since, they'd been taken. How long without water? They were both on a four-post bed, sitting opposite each other, with their hands bound over their heads. No one else was in the room.

“You need to be quiet,” Harry whispered. Ron turned to stare at where Harry’s voice had come from. Hermione didn’t move. She might not have heard.

“You need to get out of here,” Ron said. "Get Hermione and get out of here."

“Yeah,” Harry said. “We all are. Diffindo,” Harry said, cutting the ropes over Ron’s head. Harry cut Hermione’s ropes in time for Ron to huddle next to her, gently nudging her out of her daze.

“Behind you,” Hermione said suddenly, hoarsely.

“Accio cloak,” a gruff voice said behind him. Harry’s invisibility cloak whipped off of him.

“Mighty interested to know how you got in here, even invisible,” Greyback said, standing in the doorway, pointing his wand at Harry. Harry pointed Eckelson’s back.

“Harry,” Hermione said urgently. “You can still get out of here.”

“Like hell,” Harry said.

Greyback smirked. “Ready to take your mark?” Greyback asked.

“Yeah,” Harry said. “Just let them go.”

“Let them go?” Greyback asked. “What a waste that would be. You need some prey for your first hunt, don’t you?”

“You can’t have them, and you can’t have me,” Harry said angrily. “Reducto,” Harry said.

Greyback threw up a shield, but Harry hadn’t been aiming at him. The plaster ceiling over Greyback crumbled and fell on him as Harry ran forward to get close.

“Stupefy,” Harry said, hoping Greyback wouldn’t have enough time to shield an almost point-blank spell. The man twisted out of the way.

“Expeliarmus,” Greyback cried, and Harry lost Eckelson’s wand. That was when Ron tackled the older man. Harry lunged at him too, grabbing for Greyback’s wand, which was pulled out of his reach. That was when Ron got his hand around it and held on firm with first one hand and then two, trying to pull it free. It snapped, and Harry almost cried out.

Greyback didn’t look much aggrieved for the loss of the wand. He backhanded Harry and threw Ron to the ground.

“Petrificus Totalus,” Hermione said, having picked up Eckelson’s wand. Greyback turned out of the way of that one too. But it was three on one, and if Harry and Ron could just keep Greyback distracted, Hermione could finish things. That was when the stranger walked in.

“Expeliarmus,” he said, and Hermione lost her wand. He roughly grabbed Harry into a chokehold and pressed his wand against Harry’s temple. Ron and Hermione froze.

“I told you to wait,” Greyback said with a snarl.

“Your wand broke,” the stranger said. He sounded timid under Greyback’s wrathful gaze.

“We were just having some fun,” Greyback said. “Wands come and go. These here where just getting interesting. I thought I’d gotten the spunk out of these two, but they surprised me. We’re going to have some fun, aren’t we, Potter.”

“Go to hell,” Harry said.

Greyback’s wand had snapped, and Harry saw no sign of Eckelson’s that Hermione had just lost, that left the one held to his temple. Harry knew how to get out of a chokehold.

One hand came up to the wrist that was holding a wand to his head while he twisted and stepped to the right, placing his left foot behind the man’s right. His head popped out from the crook of his arm and Harry grabbed the man’s wrist and twisted, bringing it into a wrist lock behind the man’s back. As soon as he made his move, Ron was charging Greyback, with Hermione going for where Eckelson’s wand had flown earlier.

Harry twisted hard on the man’s wrist and shoved his leg into the back of the man’s knees forcing him to the ground, face first. Harry plucked the wand from the stunned man’s hand while still maintaining control of the arm in the small of the man’s back.

“Stupefy,” Harry said. He had to try the spell again and the man below him stopped struggling.

“Flipendo,” Hermione said, and Greyback was shoved to the side, though Harry could tell there wasn’t much power behind it.

“Stupefy,” Harry cast again. Greyback slumped down.

“Come on,” Ron said, grabbing Hermione’s hand and making his way to the door. Harry followed behind.

Harry followed them out the door, closing it as he went.

“Hermione,” Harry said. “Can you do something about this door?”

“Colloportus,” Hermione cast, sealing the door. “I’m not sure how well that’ll hold,” Hermione said. “I don’t think I’m well matched with this wand.”

“It’s Eckelson’s. Do you know where your wands are?” Harry asked.

“Shit,” Ron said. “I think he stuck them in his boot or something.”

Harry turned to face the door Greyback was behind.

“This close to the moon, Harry,” Hermione said. “I don’t think those stunners are going to last long.”

“Right,” Harry said. “Let’s get out of here. We can worry about wands later.” And his invisibility cloak as well, come to think about it.

It took them a few moments to realize that all of the doors to the outside were impervious to opening charms. Harry was about to try to figure out how to carry someone with him through the wall when Hermione found a room with a trapdoor in the middle. It probably led to the tunnel Greyback had wanted him to take. That would get them back to the castle.

Nothing happened when Ron crossed the threshold into the room, but when Hermione went through, with Harry close on her heals, both of the wands they held flew out of their hands and through a small hole in the ceiling. So that had been Greyback’s plan for when Harry left the tunnel. Harry shook his head. There was no use in worrying about it now. They clambered down through the trapdoor. It was completely dark, and Harry tried to keep up a strong pace, but both Ron and Hermione seemed at the end of their ropes. The uneven surface and variable height of the tunnel made things very difficult. Harry thought they might have been about two thirds of the way through, based off of his trek through the Honeyduke’s tunnel, when he made out the sounds of Greyback and his accomplice somewhere behind them in the distance.

“We have to run,” Harry said. Ron and Hermione didn’t make a sound, but he knew that was asking a lot. Harry held on to Ron, and Ron kept a hold of Hermione. Harry kept a handout in front of himself to avoid running into bedrock. A few more minutes passed, and Harry knew Greyback was getting closer. Looking behind himself, he thought he could almost see the glow of a wand beyond a turn in the tunnel. Harry shoved his free hand into his mouth and used his teeth to pull off the glove he wore before reaching into his back pocket. He pulled out the hidden glove and clenched it in his hand. He had made a promise and he was going to keep it. Greyback would be upon them soon, and Harry was going to make sure that Ron and Hermione got out. Then the sounds of pursuit stopped to be replaced by yells. Harry had never seen a werewolf transform, but he thought for sure he was hearing it happen then. He didn’t know how long a transformation lasted, but they had to hurry.

They were all but sprinting then, and Harry could hear Ron and Hermione flagging just behind him. But there up ahead was light, just in time to hear a howl from behind. Harry made his way up to the end of the tunnel and felt around. He knew the Whomping Willow was planted right on top and that there was a knot he was supposed to press to stop it from trying to kill them. He couldn’t find it.

“Harry, go,” Hermione said. Harry pulled himself up, quickly and reached back to pull up Hermione.

“Run,” Harry said. “It’s the Whomping Willow.”

He reached for Ron, he could hear two wolves snarling, coming closer. He got Ron up, hearing Hermione scream. He turned in time to see Hermione go flying, struck by a powerful blow from the tree.

“Hermione,” Ron yelled, running after her.

Harry passed him easily and tried to help Hermione up, taking a blow to his back that felt like a baseball bat and sent him stumbling forward. He flipped himself onto his back and got up in time to see another branch catch Ron around his stomach and send him flying. Harry watched as Ron landed wrong and he heard a snap before he saw what looked like Ron’s shin bone poking through his leg. Ron gave a strangled scream as he collapsed to the ground and then stopped moving.

“Ron!” Hermione screamed.

“Run,” Harry said. “I’ll get him.” That was when he heard the growl, but it wasn’t coming from the tunnel opening. It was coming from the direction of the castle. Harry looked up in time to see a werewolf running full tilt towards him and Hermione. Harry scrambled to put the glove still clenched in his fist onto his hand. But the wolf ran right past them and towards the tunnel entrance where another werewolf was crawling out. The werewolf barreled right into it just as it had crawled out and the two animals started to tear at each other with claws and teeth.

“Run,” Harry said again. Hermione was frozen in shock. He gave her a shove towards the castle and turned towards Ron, who had fallen just outside of the tree’s reach. He turned in time to see the other werewolf, this one was clearly Greyback, exiting the tunnel. It sniffed the air, and turned straight towards Ron and the blood oozing out of his leg.

“No!” Harry yelled, running to intercept. He only had one weapon. It was all about intent. Harry dove on top of the charging werewolf, driving his fist down on top of its head, willing his hand to go through the monster’s skull. The glove worked, tearing apart everything in its path; his hand passed through, and then his arm and before he knew it he was falling through, catching himself with his other arm around Greyback’s neck, everything reassembling itself as his arm exited Greyback, reassembled itself imperfectly. The two of them tumbled and crashed together, the werewolf on top of him shaking and snarling and shuddering as it hemorrhaged into its skull. In its death throes it lunged at Harry and he screamed as the dying creature ripped into his shoulder with its teeth. Harry pushed Greyback off of himself and rolled to get on top of the stumbling animal. Ron was only a few paces away and Harry had to make sure it didn’t get too close to him. He could still hear the other two werewolves battling behind him. Professor Lupin, Harry thought. That was who the other werewolf was. And now Harry was one too. Greyback fell to the ground and stopped moving.

“Accio Harry,” his father’s voice rang out into the night. Harry flew through the air and landed on a cushion of magic.

“Get away from it, Lupin,” his father said. One of the werewolves broke away from the other and his father held up a metallic spike, which he banished into the snarling creature. Silver, Harry knew.


IIIIIIIIIIIII


The wound burned hot, the skin felt feverish. Madame Pomfrey worked about as though it was an ordinary laceration. Harry wasn’t about to start talking about it. She had fixed up Ron first. He had still been unconscious when he had been brought in and Madame Pomfrey had said it would be best if he just rested for then, though everything had been healed.

Professor Snape had left. There had been something he wanted to brew for Harry’s shoulder, and Harry couldn’t ask him to stay, couldn't say anything at all. Madame Pomfrey had placed ointments and bandages, and given him something for the fever, but the cursed wound would not so easily heal. With nothing left to do for him, Madame Pomfrey turned to Hermione. The vacant stare had returned, and Madame Pomfrey started doing diagnostics with her wand. She closed the curtain around Hermione’s bed and Harry was left alone. Alone with his thoughts.


IIIIIIIIIII


Something had gone wrong in the timing of the night's events. But then, things had been going wrong all year, and yet Albus had tried to keep everything moving along. Harry was not supposed to be a werewolf. One misstep and everything had been turned upside down. The changes were becoming too much, the predictability of the future had become so degraded that Albus could no longer dare to try to keep matters on course.

He had bargained so much on it though, on following the right path towards victory. Lives had been lost, people had been sacrificed on the altar of this plan, of keeping everything scripted; scripted deaths, scripted destruction, scripted trauma. Albus could no longer see a way to ensure that events flowed as they were supposed to towards Voldemort’s defeat. He could no longer say that those sacrifices had served a purpose.

Harry was not supposed to be a werewolf. Yet as things stood now, if Voldemort found out that Harry was a werewolf, he would never use Harry in his rebirthing ceremony, and without the shared blood tie, there would be no way to destroy the Horcrux within Harry without killing Harry also, and yet… and yet, if Voldemort did not know…

Albus pulled down several books and some scratch paper. The arithmancy on this would be tricky. At least now he knew why his future self-had decided to interfere with time.


IIIIIIIIIIIII


Clarity let him know he was failing. He knew that. Failing as Harry’s protector and failing as his father. That didn’t change that he had an excuse. Frigga’s Brew would be the best thing to help the wound heal quickly and with minimal scaring. The sooner it was applied the better, so here he was, in his lab, brewing, instead of being with his son. It was easier. If only everything else were as easy.

Yet the brew was easy enough, quick enough, and soon enough he was returning to the hospital wing. Mister Weasley was still unconscious, Harry was still sat up on the edge of his bed staring at the wall, and Miss Granger was behind a curtain with Madame Pomfrey. He knew that Mister Erstwhile was behind another set of curtains, sleeping off his ordeal. He walked over to Harry.

“It’s best to put this on now,” Severus told Harry.

Harry looked up, startled. He opened his mouth to say something, but no words came out. He looked down at his lap.

“I’m not angry with you,” Severus said. He drew his wand and tapped the bandages that covered Harry’s shoulder. “I knew full well what you would do, given the opportunity. I had thought opportunity had been sealed from you, though.” He started applying the potion to the wound, glad to see the red, puffy skin start to settle.

“He said he’d kill them if anyone else showed up,” Harry said.

“I know,” Severus said. “I’m sorry I couldn’t protect you.”

“It wasn’t your fault,” Harry said.

They were interrupted by the arrival of the Headmaster.

“Severus, Harry,” the Headmaster greeted as he erected several privacy spells.

“Is Professor Lupin alright?” Harry asked.

“He is recovering right now with Professor Hagrid,” the Headmaster said. “And I am sure that you should like to take time to recover for right now, but I am afraid there is a matter I must ask of you tonight.

“The ministry can hang if they want a statement right now,” Severus said.

“The ministry does not yet know what has happened tonight,” the Headmaster said, “and we must be careful of what they do discover. We must be careful of what rumors might spread.”

Harry looked down.

“You mean about me being a werewolf?” he asked.

Severus couldn’t help but flinch at that.

“Yes,” the headmaster said. “There is a peculiar thing about Prophesies, Harry.” And here he had both of their very undivided attention.

“They are very difficult to decipher until after certain matters have taken place,” the headmaster said. “It is important that I say little more than what I am about to divulge. It is vitally important that Voldemort not learn that you have been bitten tonight if we are to see an end to his ever-present threat one day.”

“That prophesy?” Harry asked, wide eyed. “The one about that night? I don’t understand. I thought it was all over.”

“It is not,” Severus said, and Harry turned his panicked eyes upon him. “What involvement does Harry have in Voldemort’s destruction?” Severus asked the headmaster.

“I cannot say,” the headmaster said. “But Voldemort’s discovery that you are a werewolf could ensure your own death.”

Harry paled. “What do you need me to do?” he asked. “I wasn’t planning on telling anyone.”

“For that, we shall need your friends,” the headmaster said.

The question of the prophesy wasn’t over as far as Severus was concerned, but he understood the importance of damage control this early in the game.

“I do believe that they are currently indisposed,” Severus said.

“I am aware that I must ask a great deal of them tonight,” the headmaster said.

The headmaster dropped the privacy charms he had erected.

“Madam Pomfrey?” he asked. There was a pause before the matron came out from behind her curtain. She looked very weary.

“I must borrow your patients for now Poppy,” the headmaster said.

“Absolutely not,” Madam Pomfrey said crossly. “These children need rest; they are in no state for anything but bed rest. There shall be no more galivanting around.”

“The last time a student was suspected of being a werewolf,” the headmaster said, “he visited the hospital wing twice with severe injuries. I should like to avoid such suspicions for all these students, so that they can recover with less public scrutiny.”

“Mr. Potter, perhaps, can go, his injury is healing as well as can be expected, and he is the one who shall need those protections, but Mr. Weasley and Miss Granger have been through an ordeal, and they do not need the added stress of whatever scheme you have cooked up.”

“It is important that there are no suspicions, towards any students,” the headmaster said. “For everyone’s safety.”

“I’ll help,” Miss Granger said, from behind her curtain, sounding much smaller than she normally did.

“You need your rest,” Madame Pomfrey said, rounding on her.

Miss Granger walked over to Mister Weasley’s bed and gently shook the boy awake.

“Hermione!,” Ron shouted, lurching up the moment his eyes opened, looking over the girl. “Are you alright? What time is it? The moon, where are we? Where’s Harry?”

“I’m right here,” Harry said with a great deal of trepidation in his voice. “We’re in the hospital wing.”

Ron looked between his friends and sighed in relief.

“Oh shit,” the boy said, unapologetic before his professors. He started running his hands over his body, looking for injury.

“You are unharmed,” Professor Snape said.

“Harry needs help,” Hermione said.

“Oh,” Mister Weasley said. “Okay.” The boy was already getting out of bed, though he did not move an inch from Miss Granger’s side. “What’s going on,” the boy asked. “Are you alright?”

Harry shook his head, looking down.

“What happened to your shoulder?” Ron asked.

No one said anything.

“O-oh,” Mister Weasley said, clearly shaken. “Right.”

“It is important for Harry’s safety that no one know what has happened tonight,” the headmaster said. “Fortunately, I have recovered your personal items from the Shrieking Shack.” He held up two wands and an hourglass, bound in a wire cage, on a golden chain.

“A time turner?” Madame Pomfrey asked indignantly. “For a third year?”

“What’s a time turner?” Harry asked.

“It’s sort of like a time machine,” Miss Granger said. “It’s how I get to all of my classes.”

“Then you can stop it all,” Harry said, an elated look on his face. “You can fix me.”

“Oh, no, Harry,” Miss Granger said, a horrified look on her face as she looked upon his son’s hope. “I can’t.”

“It is impossible to change time, Harry,” Severus said, sparing the girl from having to say it herself, and it hurt to take that hope away from him. “What has happened has already happened. Whatever temporal matters have taken place have already taken place. If you go back in time, nothing you do will change anything. Time travel is always a stable loop.” He turned to the headmaster. “You are sending them back to before the moon rose? So they can present themselves before witnesses?”

“Indeed,” the headmaster said. “You will go back and head straight for the common room. Your story will not change much. After receiving a message from Greyback, you rescued Mister Weasley and Miss Granger and managed to return to the castle with a half hour to spare before the moon rose. You will say, Harry, that you cut time off your journey by flying your broom, which you had had shrunken in your pocket. You will say that Greyback and his accomplice were incapacitated and that you do not know what happened to them, other than that, you alerted us to where you had left them unconscious. You will inform them that you have instructions from myself that no students are to leave the dormitories. We will inform the Ministry, that Fenrir Greyback and his accomplice escaped before turning upon the school grounds where they were killed by Professor Snape and Professor Lupin. Do you have any questions?”

The three students shook their heads.

The headmaster sighed. He handed Miss Granger the time turner.

“Three turns, five minutes from now,” the headmaster said. “Madame Pomfrey shall come to collect you later with accusations that you and Mister Weasley escaped from the hospital wing. Mister Weasley, your parents will likely be waiting for you in the hospital wing when you return.”

Miss Granger took the device.