Blood by The Lord of Chaos
Summary: Harry's sent reeling when he learns that Professor Snape is his bio dad, and if that were all he had to deal with, he'd probably be all right, but he's got werewolves, escaped convicts, a stubborn Dark Lord, and his own inner demons to deal with. Starts third year. Rating mostly for violence. Story deals with mental health, bigotry and child abuse. See more tags in Story Notes (Some are big spoilers so beware).
Categories: Parental Snape > Biological Father Snape Main Characters: .Snape and Harry (required), Ron
Snape Flavour: Snape Comforts, Snape is Loving
Genres: Action/Adventure, Angst, Drama, Family
Media Type: None
Tags: Werewolves
Takes Place: 3rd Year, 4th summer, 4th Year
Warnings: Abusive Dursleys, Bullying, Neglect, Profanity, Romance/Slash, Torture, Violence
Challenges: None
Series: None
Chapters: 17 Completed: No Word count: 226526 Read: 35606 Published: 24 Jun 2020 Updated: 04 Apr 2022
Wolfsbane by The Lord of Chaos
Harry never really thought about how Hedwig knew when someone wanted to write to him; like most things magical, he sort of took it for granted. But somehow, on the few times when he received items at school, it was often his own owl that delivered it; as though she had known that someone had wanted to send him something.

Hedwig, it seemed was also keeping up the correspondence between Hermione and her parents, because a few days after the initial letter had been sent out to her parents, Hedwig flew into the great hall with a return letter for Hermione. Somehow, Hedwig had known that they had a letter for their daughter. After Hermione had read it to herself, she separated one of the pages and handed it to Ron with a smile.

"What's this?" Ron asked.

"My mom had a professor at her old university who was a competitive chess player. So I asked mom if she could show her the moves from the game you played," Hermione told him.

"It was just a regular old game," Ron said. "It wasn't anything special."

"That's not what the letter says," Hermione said. "Go on, read it."

Ron took a moment to read it before he put it down with a pensive look.

"It couldn't have been that good," Ron said.

"When was the last time you lost a game?" Harry asked.

Ron thought. "I lost to Percy last time... when I was seven."

"Exactly," said Hermione. "So enough of this nonsense about not being that good."

"You really think I could do it?" Ron asked. "This project."

"Yes," Hermione said. "But more importantly, I think you should do it. It could be so good for your future."

"Yeah, and think of everything you've said about your brothers," Harry said. "This could be your thing. You could make something super cool before you even leave Hogwarts. And it's based off of something you're really good at. You know. Work off your strengths."

"But that's just it. So what if I'm good at chess. That doesn't mean I'll be good at enchanting things," Ron said, and Harry realized that there was a bit of a defeated quality to his tone.

"But you could be," Harry said. "And besides, Hermione will help, and so will I."

Ron had a pensive moment. "Where do I start?" he asked.

"I'm glad you asked," Hermione said with a smile. Harry had a feeling he knew where this was heading. He had had a similar conversation with Hermione earlier when they were working on his potions project proposal.

Honestly, Harry was glad that Ron was taking on the project, and not just because Harry was doing one himself. Ron had been a bit distracted lately worrying about Scabbers. It seemed the old Weasley family rat was starting to show signs of its older age. The small animal had lost a lot of weight and had started loosing small patches of fur. Ron had stopped keeping the rat in his pocket during lessons and instead let it sleep most of the time up in the dorm on a blanket with a small warming charm.

Ron didn't really show it, but he was pretty attached to Scabbers and Harry was pretty sure that he'd be devastated if the rat died. Harry was worried his friend would lose his familiar before the end of the school year though. He could use something to distract himself from it. They could all use some distractions.


IIIIIIIIIIIIIII


In less than a week, the full moon would rise and everyone would see that he wasn't a werewolf. In less than a week, he would be able to walk the halls by himself if he wanted. He wouldn't need an escort just to go down to the dungeon.

"Oy George," Fred said over Harry's head. "I've almost got the idea we're bad company."

"It's not that," Harry said gruffly, though he realized that his attitude during the small trip had hardly been friendly towards those who had volunteered to keep him safe. "Sorry. It's only that I've been getting along by myself since I was six. I mean thanks and all for making sure I don't get hexed walking down the hall, but I shouldn't need minders just to walk the halls to Snape's lab."

"Well, maybe not to Snape's lab," George commented.

"But definitely when you get there," Fred added.

"Wouldn't want you to face him alone," George quipped.

"He's a bit harder to tackle than a basilisk, mind," Fred said with a wink.

"Oh, I dare say he may want you to think that," came a voice from a doorway. They were passing the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom and Professor Lupin looked like he was on his way out with a stack of parchment that was probably some year's essays. "Although you probably have a better chance of getting detention from a professor than you do coming across a basilisk. I don't think one's been spotted in more than a quarter of a century."

"I thought all you professors did was gossip about us students," Fred said.

"Didn't anyone tell you about Harry here slaying one last year with the Sword of Gryffindor in the Chamber of Secrets," George said."

"Oh did he now?" Professor Lupin said with a smile. "No, I don't think we've gotten to that part yet. All we've covered so far is who's dating who and the most disruptive pranks some students may have gotten up to. I suppose we'll cover Basilisks at the next staff meeting along with dragons and mountain trolls."

Harry blushed; the professor thought the twins were joking.

"Well it's no wonder they haven't gotten there yet," George said.

"Yeah," Fred said clapping Harry on the shoulder. "With all that to get out of the way, they're saving the best for last. Mind you it may take a couple of staff meetings to get all of the gossip about this one out of the way, and wait until you do hear about the mountain troll."

"And there's more coming every day," George said. "Why did you know that this lad is throwing a party at the end of this week."

"It's going to be the talk of the school," Fred said. "Everyone's invited."

"Even the professors," George added.

"You're throwing the party," Harry said, speaking for the first time. "I'm just the mandatory guest of honor." Harry didn't really want to be the guest of honor for any party, but he supposed if it ended the stupid werewolf nonsense, he'd put up with being the center of attention and try to enjoy it.

"So what is the occasion for this party?" Professor Lupin asked.

"Why, it's Harry's 'Not-A-Werewolf' party," Fred said.

"Held for when the full moon rises," George said.

"Trying to do away with those pesky rumors about this one howling at the moon," Fred said.

"Do you think you'll make an appearance, professor?" George asked. "It's going to be in that lecture hall on the second floor that isn't being used this year.

"We're promising tamper free treats," Fred added. Harry thought he might have seen the boy's fingers crossed behind his back, but he couldn't be sure.

"Well," Professor Lupin said. "I wouldn't want the presence of a professor to diminish the festivities. Just do make sure the party doesn't go on too long after the full moon. We wouldn't want a professor to have to give everyone detention for being out after curfew."

With that, the professor waved them off and they walked their separate ways down the hallway. All too soon they had descended into the darker and colder corridors that were typical of the dungeons of the castle and were standing outside of the potions lab; Harry was suddenly much more nervous.

"You can still turn back mate," George said.

"Yeah, potions experiments are much more fun when you're doing them without adult supervision," Fred added.

"Well, I've come this far," Harry said and walked into the potions lab.

Snape's scowl was on him immediately when he walked in and, if anything, got worse when the twins walked in after him. There were only three other students working in the lab, of which only one even looked up when Harry walked in.

Harry walked up to Snape's desk and placed his project proposal in front of him. Really, it was Hermione's proposal, but she had made Harry learn it backwards to front. Snape had yet to say a word, and neither had Harry, the man just picked up the parchment and started reading. He looked a little sour when he realized what it was that he was reading.

"Why?" The man asked. "Your words, not Granger's."

Harry blushed a bit at that, but he already had a response ready.

"I came to have a bit more of an appreciation for potions over the summer, and I thought I'd like to explore the possibility of potions as a career, sir," he said, not making eye contact with the Professor. He made sure to add the sir since Snape was a stickler for titles and there was no point in antagonizing him.

"And warding potions?" Snape asked.

"I've had an interest in wards since I heard about the ones around my Aunt's house, sir," Harry said.

"Funny, then, that you decided to leave them when you were in danger," Snape sneered.

Harry struggled not to rejoin that with an angry retort and wound up not saying anything at all.

Snape let out a breath through his nose, and Harry suspected that he had been hoping for an outburst.

"If you have an interest in wards, Arithmancy and Ancient Runes would serve you much better. Potions have a very limited application to such protections," he said finally, almost like he was only begrudgingly giving Harry academic advice but was also inclined to dissuade him from following through on his project.

"Actually, I'm dropping Divination for those classes, sir," Harry said. "And I might not have too much time for the project in the beginning while I'm catching up, but I can still start working on warding potions a lot sooner than I could start working on wards in Arithmancy or Runes."

That had been a hard sell on Hermione's part. Harry was fine dropping Divination but tacking on two work heavy classes on top was incredibly daunting. Hermione had sworn that she would help Harry catch up, though that just made Harry feel bad for taking up her time. Both Ron and Hermione were dropping Divination, though Ron would only be adding Arithmancy, and had still looked like someone had canceled Christmas when Harry had left the common room earlier. Ron had been convinced in the end that Divination was a bit of a wooly subject; but Harry thought that perhaps Ron just wasn't inclined to take the class without his friends. They still had to talk to Professor McGonagall about it.

Really, the classes would probably benefit Harry greatly, which he supposed would be worth the added effort. When he had chosen divination, it had seemed a bit of a fun, easy class. He felt a bit differently now, and not just because the class seemed a bit useless. He hadn't been able to save Ms. Adler. He had had a wand in his hand and it had been useless. Maybe if he had taken his studies more seriously, she would still be alive, and Greyback would be back behind bars where he belonged.

But if Harry was honest with himself, he had to admit that the thought of Snape thinking that he was taking his studies seriously had something to do with the decision also; a thought he quickly stamped down as ridiculous. He wasn't looking for Snape's approval. He just wanted to know more about the man and answer some of the questions running around in his head. Nothing more.

Snape had previously looked very put out to have Harry in the room, but eventually he sighed to himself and in a flash his face seemed to become impassive.

"You will submit a write up on technique and theory before you attempt any potion, and you will not try any adjustments without running reactivity tests twice. Do you understand?"

"Yes sir," Harry said.

"Then unless you are ready to start working now, remove yourself from my lab," he said.

Harry nodded his head and turned around. He saw the twins talking to one of the other students in the classroom. Harry thought she was in the same year as the twins.

"All done," he said, walking up to the two older students.

"I'll see you in Herbology," the Hufflpuff girl told the twins.

The twins said their goodbyes and the three of them left the classroom.

"So," George said. " Did he try to chop you into potions ingredients?"

"Nope," Harry said. "He probably wanted to though."

"Were there any poisons?" Fred asked. "You made sure not to eat anything?"

"He didn't even offer me a suspicious cup of tea," Harry said.

"Okay, but surely he tried to suck your blood." George supplied.

"He must have restrained himself," Harry said with a bit of a shudder. An image of Greyback's gnashing teeth one of the images in his mind.


IIIIIIIIIIIII


"Excuse me?" Remus asked, completely taken aback. A basilisk running through the school, and Harry had killed it with a sword?

"It was in the papers, though not accurately reported. I'm surprised you didn't hear about it," Professor McGonagall said to Remus.

"Ah, well I've been abroad," Remus said. "It's much easier for me to get a job in Germany. And I've never seen much point in subscribing to the Prophet. Of course, I returned when I heard about the breakout. I'm not sure why really, it isn't likely that I'll be the one to capture him. Sirius had me on that front," he said smiling sadly.

"Well, we were very glad to have you here as a Professor," Professor McGonagall said. "You have probably noticed that the quality of the past few years of defense instruction have been lacking."

"Of course, that wasn't really the reason Albus asked me to teach this year," Remus said off handedly.

"Well," Professor McGonagall said. "You are something of a subject matter expert. Few people outside of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement know much of anything about Greyback and his methods."

"I knew a lot about him back then," Remus said. "But I can't help but wonder how a decade in Azkaban has affected him and his behavior. Did Harry have much to say after the attack?"

"He spoke to the minister after the first one, though from what I have heard there isn't much of substance in the report. The Headmaster had a man watching over Harry after that and he managed to stop the second attempt on Mr. Potter. Greyback grabbed him and attempted to Portkey away. There's no indication where he got the Portkey, or if he is receiving help from the others."

"The Portkey was likely his own creation. The papers have always painted Greyback as just a savage, but he didn't evade the ministry for over a decade while dragging his pack along without a fair bit of advanced magic. As to the Death Eaters, I think it's fair to say that they want a different outcome than Greyback does."

"Now that Mr. Potter is inside the castle, where do you think he will turn his sights in the meantime?" Professor McGonagall asked.

"Oh, he's almost definitely still focused on Harry," Remus said. "He was always fairly obsessive. Whatever he is doing now, it is likely in furtherance of his goal to take Harry."

"Could he mean to enter the school?" she asked.

"He'll likely try," Remus said. "And that's probably when he'll be caught, if he's bold enough to try to get past the dementors. He would to, if he could find no other way. There's only one concern, and that's the full moon. The dementors have little effect on the wolf. As I understand it that's where this problem began in the first place. If he were on Wolfsbane Potion he could conceivably have the wherewithal to slip in, but that's a big if." Wolfsbane was hard to get and Greyback would have a very difficult time obtaining any while on the run.

"Then we shall be on the lookout. Enough of such matters though, tell me about your classes," Professor McGonagall said.

Remus started telling her about an incident during a NEWT level in-class duel.


IIIIIIIIIIIII


Harry had had two sessions working in the potions lab with Snape. All told they had gone well, in the sense that Harry and Snape didn't have any sort of argument or disagreement. However, with respect to the ultimate goal of the matter, Harry didn't feel that he was getting anywhere. He hadn't learned anything about Snape, or gained any insight.

One thing he had been wrong about was thinking that there would always be other students with him in the lab. There were three days the lab was open for student use, and the hours for Monday were overlapped by the sixth year NEWT Astronomy class, of the three students using the lab for their projects besides Harry, all of them were in the class, which had left Harry alone with Snape for two hours. Neither of them had said a word to each other.

"I feel like it's pointless." Harry confided to Hermione. They were sitting in the Library after Ancient Runes and Harry's head was swimming with everything he was trying to cram into it. "We're never going to have any meaningful conversation just because we're in the same room with each other. We don't ever say anything unless I need to let him know that I'm moving on to the next step."

"Then how about you start with a project related conversation and work from there. I'm sure you have some questions about the reading material. You should be asking him. That's what he's there for," Hermione said.

"He'll just call me a dunderhead if I start asking a bunch of questions," Harry said.

"Who's going to call you a dunderhead?" Ron asked, joining them at the table.

"Snape," Harry said.

"He probably won't," Hermione said. "I mean, he would if you try a potion without understanding it properly because you didn't ask questions when you didn't understand the material though. But not if you're just doing your best."

"Why you chose potions for a project is beyond me," Ron said. "Are you sure you're feeling alright? I'm telling you, I think 'Mione might have confunded the both of us."

"You just be careful that I don't Ronald Weasley," Hermione said indignantly, but she was giving a meaningful look to Harry. He sighed, knowing what Hermione was trying to convey.

"Look Ron," Harry said looking around to see if anyone was in earshot. "Look, don't freak out, okay?

"Okay?" asked Ron dubiously.

"Well, see the letter I got from my mom and dad…" Harry cleared his throat. "Alright so my mum dated Snape, then she broke up with him, then she found out she was pregnant, so she used a potion to delay it. Then later she started dating my dad, told him everything, got married, then decided to finally give birth to me, and my dad used a charm so I'd look like him instead of Snape... And for reasons I can't get into she never told Snape."

"Wait, so..." Ron looked vaguely like someone who had been hit in the head with a frying pan before he shook himself and said, "So he's your dad? Snape? Bloody hell."

"No," Harry said. "He's not my dad. Well, yeah, in the biological sense. But, um, yeah, you know. It's not like he has any right to the title. Also it's a big secret."

"Well I should hope so," Ron said.

"Ron," Hermione scolded.

Ron gave her a look as if to say, 'you know I'm right.'

"But what could she have wanted to date Snape for?" Ron asked. "I mean it's Snape. Literally the worst person we know. It just doesn't add up."

"That's how I see it. I want to figure it out," Harry said.

"And what, you think doing a potions project's going to give you answers, or something?" Ron asked.

Harry shrugged. "Avoiding him isn't going to get them for me."

"I don't know," Ron said. "I think your mental mate. I mean if it was anyone other than Snape, sure, but you're just setting yourself up for disaster. I mean just 'cause he might be blood doesn't mean he's any good for you. I mean look at the Dursleys. Sometimes your family shouldn't be your family and trying to make it work is just going to make things worse."

"Well he probably would be horrible," Harry said. "But I'm not planning to tell him anything about it, so don't worry. I just want to know a bit more about him, that's all."

"Right," Ron said. "Just keep in mind, he could ground you till you turn seventeen."

"I'm not likely to forget." Harry said.

"Oh," Ron said. "That's where you got your glare from."

"What glare?" Harry asked.

"That glare you have," Ron said. "The one you give Malfoy when he's being a prat. Or rather when he's being Malfoy. Must have gotten that from Snape. Can't believe I haven't seen it before. Oh, see, it's the one you're giving me right now."

Eventually Hermione got them back to studying. Harry's Not-A-Werewolf party was the next day and Hermione said they had to work hard to catch up if they wanted time to play later. It was some time later, when Ron and Harry were walking up to their dormitory for bed that Ron stopped him a moment.

"You're doing alright, aren't you?" he asked. "With everything."

Harry wasn't sure which everything Ron was talking about, but he said, "Yeah, of course," before continuing up the stairs. After Ron had mentioned it though, he had been a little preoccupied wondering what else he may have inherited from Snape.

He didn't tell Ron moments later when he found a piece of parchment on his pillow with the words 'LAST CHANCE' written on it.


IIIIIIIIIIII


"Merlin Harry," Oliver said. "If this is the party the twins throw just 'cause you aren't a werewolf, I can't wait to see the party we'll have when we win the cup this year.

Oliver had just arrived at the unused lecture hall the twins had commandeered for the party and Harry had to agree with him. The party sure was something. There were snacks and desserts everywhere and everything from pumpkin juice to a very tasty fizzy drink called butterbeer. Harry had heard a few students comment on the twins’ ability to acquire that last one. Unfortunately, Harry was currently in the middle of a fast that would take him all the way from moonrise to when the moon was technically full, about two hours later. To disprove Malfoy's Polyjuice theory from the month before, Harry wouldn't be eating or drinking anything, lest he arouse suspicions. There were a couple of seventh year Ravenclaw Prefects who had volunteered to be his designated minders, making sure he wasn't sneaking anything from a flask or whatnot.

He could participate in the games, however, and he had been. There had been everything from pin the tail on the werewolf to some odd game that involved bouncing a ball across a table into cups that had butterbeer in them for some reason. Harry couldn't play that one since the game involved drinking from those same cups which seemed a bit gross.

Most everything was wolf themed. There were quaffle sized sphere lights suspended over the party, charmed to look like the full moon. Most of the party games were werewolf themed, and the twins had even started a competition for the best wolf's howl someone could produce. A first year Hufflepuff girl had managed to do the best, and it had almost been chilling. Harry had been cajoled into trying, but his voice had warbled rather horribly.

About five minutes before the moon would rise, Harry found himself watching Neville playing Pin the Tail on the Werewolf. Much like the muggle game of a similar name, he was blindfolded and spun around before being pointed in the general direction of the grotesque wolf pinup. Then, while about a dozen of his classmates yelled directions at him, Neville stumbled forward, tail in hand, towards the wolf.

"Up higher," called out one of the first years watching, trying to be heard over everyone else.

"Left more," called out his friend.

Harry tried not to tally who wasn't at the party. It was sort of meaningless anyway, since it was the middle of the week and many of the upper years just had too much homework to go to a stupid not-a-werewolf party. Really though, Harry thought about half of the school had shown up, even some Slytherins were in attendance, though none he knew at all. Hermione, who should have probably been in the library, was even in attendance, sitting in a corner with a book. Harry reflected that if not for the party, he should have been in the library as well, as he was far from caught up on all of the new material.

Neville was about to pin the tail on the wolf when something wet hit Harry in the back of the neck. His hand went up to grab whatever it was as he spun around to see where it had come from. He didn't see anyone. He looked at his hand to see what had hit him and was confused to see what looked like a cotton ball soaked in oil. He dropped it to the ground and tried to rub what was on his neck off with his hand. Wiping his hand on his robes to get it off, he kept waiting for something to happen. If that had been some sort of prank, it was a pretty bad one. All it had done was leave him feeling a little grimy.

"Are you alright," Bethany, one of the Ravenclaw prefects asked him. She had seen him turn around.

"Yeah," he said. "Just someone being stupid."

"Here," she said, bringing out her wand. She did a minor cleaning spell and his hand and neck no longer felt grimy, though he thought it left them a little tingly. Another swipe of her wand and the cotton ball on the floor was vanished.

"Sure you feel alright? You're not about to sprout feathers or a tail, are you?" she asked, glancing over at the twins.

"No, I think this was a dud, whatever it was supposed to do. I'm still half waiting for the twins to try to transfigure me into a poodle or something. Thanks though," he said. He turned his attention back to Neville to see that he had pinned the tail on the poor wolf's nose.

A small firecracker went off near the center of the large wall that looked out on the grounds where the moon could be seen rising over the mountains in the distance.

The twins, who had transfigured themselves wolf's ears and snouts, were gathering everyone's attention.

"Now, as I'm sure you all know, the moon's going to be done rising in a couple of minutes," George said.

"So our guest of honor has a few words for you all," Fred said.

Harry's eyes opened in surprise; he hadn't been expecting that. All eyes were on him.

"Um, well thank you all for coming. And, er, thank you for believing me when I said I wasn't a werewolf. I hope you're all having fun, and that..." He stopped talking when the last couple words came out somewhat slurred. The tingling that he had felt in his hand and neck had intensified, and he now felt it in his mouth and his lips, he felt it in his chest.

"I think..." he said. "Something is..." He tried to say that something was wrong, but the words didn't want to come out. Not because his mouth felt like it was filled with cotton, but because air didn't want to come out. His hand flew to his throat as he realized that air didn't want to go in either.

There was an angry buzz in his ears that he distantly recognized as a large number of his classmates yelling. His vision was going dark and he thought he might have fallen over, but he didn't feel anything except the burning in his chest and the hammering of his heart that was slowing and stuttering. He saw flashes of light before a sickly orange light replaced everything and he passed out.


IIIIIIIIIIII


"Come in," the Headmaster's serious tone held a sharp contrast to his usual demeanor Severus observed. Of course, with the events of the evening prior, everyone in the castle, all but a few, were on edge and upset. He himself was livid.

He walked into the headmaster’s office and stood before the man's desk taking a moment to observe his surroundings. The portraits hanging on the walls had given up the pretense of their slumber and were all looking at him expectantly.

"What did you find?" the Headmaster asked, drawing Severus's attention back to the man in front of him.

"Mark Daniels from Gryffindor perpetrated the attack," he said. "And Ritta Ristich from Ravenclaw aided him in planning. They are both currently with their heads of house. As to the imbeciles who..." he was cut off by the headmaster.

"I am much more interested in those who planned a murder," the headmaster said. "We will deal with those who reacted in a panic later."

"He received several life-threatening injuries," Severus said. He heard some rumbling from the portraits.

"And that will be addressed," the headmaster said. "Did you find any evidence that might be useful or is all of this fruit of the poisonous tree?" It wouldn't do to explain to the Ministry that evidence had been collected using Legilimency.

"The poison's delivery system was vanished, and Mr. Daniels cast too many spells with his wand after he used it to retrieve the spell used to deploy it, not that a banishing charm would have held much weight in front of the Wizengammot. I did see in his mind however the location where they produced the toxin, greenhouse seven which is currently in disuse and like all unused school space, should be locked. There was enough evidence there to link them to the attack and from what I saw in Miss Ristich, she will likely confess under questioning. With the nature of the toxin we will not have to explain why we searched the greenhouses first. There is no need for Legilimency to come up."

The headmaster nodded. "Thank you, Severus. You have done very well. You seem very upset though. You have not taken such personal concern for Harry before."

Severus grimaced. They had tried to kill Lily's son. They had almost succeeded.

"I have invested too much of myself into keeping the fool boy alive to see him reach such an end; and for such nonsense."

"You need not be so defensive. It is alright to be concerned for another's well-being," the headmaster said.

"I am not concerned for him; my concern is only that Lily's sacrifice is not in vain."

"And yet," the headmaster said. "What would Lily want in this situation."

"She would not want me to be..." Severus sneered. "Friends with her son. She would probably be appalled that I have contact with him."

"I think you underestimate her. If she could know you now..." The headmaster said. "But that is neither here nor there. Do you think she would want her son to have your scorn?"

Severus chewed on that for a moment.

"He does not have it," he said.

The headmaster just looked at him.

"He does not have my scorn," Severus said. "But neither does he have my concern. I am only concerned with my duty to Lily."

"You may find it beneficial to actually be on speaking terms with the one you protect," the headmaster said.

"Will that be all, Headmaster?" Severus asked.

The headmaster nodded. "It has been a long evening Severus. Your skills as a potion master have saved young Harry's life, and your investigation safeguards his future; you have done well. Try to get some rest."

"Rest is difficult in this school with that boy roaming these halls," Severus said turning to leave. "Merlin only knows why he decided to do a potions project this year and give us both less rest."

"A potions project, you say?" the unusual tone in the headmaster’s voice halting him in his steps and prompting him to turn back around.

"Yes," Severus said. "And he's gotten it in his head to focus on warding potions, which are class two. I'll be supervising the boy three times a week outside of class now. Perhaps it will help keep him out of trouble, but I am more convinced that I shall see my potions lab blown up before the year is up."

The headmaster just smiled. "Perhaps Severus," he said. "We shall see, the year is young yet. Have a good night."

"Good night headmaster," Severus said, exiting the headmaster's office.


IIIIIIIIIIIIII


Harry woke up feeling oddly horrible and refreshed at the same time. He was sore in a few places and slightly nauseous, but he also felt incredibly rested and in an odd way, clean, like he had been scrubbed from head to toe. A few of his bones had that odd, just healed feeling he was unfortunately familiar with, and he was very aware that he was in the hospital wing.

He sat up and looked around.

"You're awake," Ron said. He was looking up from a book that he was reading by candlelight, the sun was still an hour or so away from rising, judging by what little light came in through the window, which wasn't enough to read by. Or was it evening light, the sun having been down for some time? He couldn't tell. The thing about waking up in the hospital wing was that you didn't always know exactly when you had been brought in. Ron sort of had the look of someone who had stayed up all night, and Hermione was sleeping in a chair next to him, so Harry assumed that it was the morning.

"They let you stay overnight?" Harry asked, trying to be quiet so as not to wake Hermione, though he could see that she was stirring.

"Madame Pomfrey wanted to kick us out, but we insisted someone had to keep an eye on you in case someone tried again."

"Tried what again?" Harry asked. He couldn't exactly remember what had prompted this stay in the hospital wing. He’d been at the party.

"Tried to kill you, of course," Ron said. Harry saw Hermione stiffen at Ron's words she looked up, now fully awake, though she didn't say anything. He was disturbed to see that she had been crying, though he was more disturbed by what Ron had said.

"Someone tried to kill me?!" he asked, shocked. "How did they get in?"

"They did kill you, and you probably invited them," Ron said apologetically.

"What?" Harry asked.

"You stopped breathing," Hermione said, speaking for the first time and still fairly distraught.

"What?" Harry asked again.

"Someone poisoned you in the middle of the party," Ron said. "It made you stop breathing, I think your heart also stopped for a little bit. That Ravenclaw prefect who was minding you, Bryan Willoughby, he did this weird muggle thing to buy you time till a professor came. It was Snape, of all people. He did a spell on you so you could breathe on your own and brought you here."

There was a lot more there than Harry wanted to think about. "Why does it feel like Madame Pomfrey had to heal some of my bones too?" He asked.

Ron and Hermione shared a look.

"The poison made you convulse a bit," Hermione said. "The full moon was rising, and people thought..."

"Oh for Merlin's sake," Harry said. "I'm being poisoned, and I get mobbed?"

"I wouldn't say mobbed," Ron said. "Most people who got stupid just ran away. Only a few people actually attacked you. I think. It was hard to tell, there was a bit of a skirmish. Plenty of people came to your defense."

No one spoke for a bit.

"So who poisoned me?" Harry asked.

Ron shrugged apologetically.

"We don't know yet," Hermione said. "Or at least, they haven't told us yet. You realize it was probably a student, right? This wasn't Death Eaters, I don't think this would be their style."

No, Hermione was right. Waking up in the hospital wing, he had sort of assumed it would have something to do with the escaped death eaters, but he thought that an attack from that quarter would be a bit more direct. The warning he had gotten the night prior should have also been a bit of a tip off. Yet even when half of the school had thought he was the heir of Slytherin and attacking students; no one had attacked him, certainly no one had tried to kill him. He found himself wishing that it had in fact been death eaters, or that an investigation would show that it had been them all along. Odd that Death Eaters were preferable in this instance, but the thought that he was going to school with people who had tried to kill him was so much worse.

There was another moment of silence as Harry dealt with the uncomfortable thoughts.

"Harry," Hermione said, breaking the silence. "With all of your injuries, I thought it prudent to check to make sure…" and here, Hermione checked to make sure Madame Pomfrey wasn't about to descend upon them. "With your Hemophilia, I thought I'd check. The diagnostic charm was green, not blue. I renewed the charm of course, but I didn't think it should have worn away so quickly."

At this Harry was slightly panicked. He hadn't told his friends that the charm seemed to be wearing off quickly. He hadn't told them about the cut he had received that hadn't stopped bleeding. He hadn't wanted them to worry. He had it under control for the time being, and he was certain that if Hermione thought that something was wrong that she'd go to Madame Pomfrey or Professor McGonagall. He didn't voice any of these concerns to Hermione of course.

"Oh, thanks," he said. "But no worries, green just means it isn't at full strength. I mean it wasn't like yellow or orange or anything like that. The petrol gauge doesn't stay at the top after you've driven around for a bit." But it wasn't supposed to go down so fast either.

Ron looked a bit confused at the reference, but he usually had the sense to know when Harry or Hermione were using muggle terminology.

"Oh, of course," Hermione said. "With everything that was going on... I was just worried. I do wish I could properly read up on it though."

"Right," Harry said. "And sorry, I've put you through a lot of worry."

"Don't be stupid," Ron said. "It wasn't your fault. If anything, it's Malfoy's for starting this whole nonsense. Hey, do you think it was him maybe who poisoned you?"

"Who knows," Harry said. "Hopefully we'll find out soon who it was."

"Oh, hey," Ron said. "That's why he's been silent this past week. He didn't want anyone to suspect him after. Do you think he actually believes his own bullshit?"

Harry just shrugged. It would be nice, Harry thought, if it was Malfoy. If it was someone who was already an enemy, rather than someone else. He knew he wasn't a normal wizard, but just how many enemies could a thirteen-year-old boy have? Also, if it was Malfoy, then he'd be expelled for sure, and they wouldn't have to deal with the stuck-up aristocrat ever again.

The clack of shoes coming down the aisle could be heard, and Harry looked up to see Madame Pomfrey approaching from her office. He gave her a somewhat apologetic smile.

"Why Mr. Potter, you're awake," the matron said, sounding surprised.

"Well I've been out since the full moon rose last night, so I figured I've been asleep long enough," Harry said.

Madame Pomfrey smiled brightly for a moment before she became serious and started checking Harry over every which way. A lot of diagnostic spells were aimed at his head for some reason, and Harry grimaced a bit for the attention. The thing was though, Harry got the distinct impression that Madame Pomfrey had not expected any sort of speedy recovery on Harry's part.

"It seems a year just can't go by without an overnight stay from you Mr. Potter," Madame Pomfrey said, when she was done with the checkup.

"Well with accommodations like these, I guess I've just been lucky, is all," Harry said. Madame Pomfrey knew well how Harry hated spending the night in the Hospital Wing. "I'm planning on getting the plague next year if nothing else pops up. Wouldn't want to change our yearly ritual."

"Well see that you stay out for the rest of the year at least. You were very lucky this time Mr. Potter, you're recovering much better than I would have expected, but when you see them you shall have to thank Mr. Willoughby and Professor Snape. They both helped save your life last night."

"Oh, right," Harry said as the matron started walking towards her office. "Hey, can I go to classes this morning?"

"By all rights, Mr. Potter," Madame Pomfrey said, "you shouldn't have been well enough to leave that bed any time soon, but I can't find anything wrong with you. So yes. I'll do another checkup after you have eaten and then you may go." Harry really didn't feel like he could eat breakfast, but he wasn't about to tell Madame Pomfrey that.

Hermione gave Harry a pointed look as the matron made her way back to her office and pointed at her. Harry looked at her, confused.

"Thank you," she whispered pointedly.

"Oh," Harry said, catching her meaning. "Thanks for taking care of me and everything," he called after Madame Pomfrey.

Hermione rolled her eyes.

"What?" he asked.


IIIIIIIIIIIIII


"Please do come in," Albus said to the knock on his door. Amelia Bones entered, flanked by two aurors.

"Madame Bones," Albus said. "Thank you for seeing to this matter personally. Mr. Flemming, Miss Travers, I should have liked to see two of my former students under better circumstances, but welcome none the less."

Amelia said nothing, a deviation. He was used to minor deviations from her, but after his earlier conversation with Severus, it was very unwelcome. The two accompanying Aurors murmured their own greetings.

"The evidence we found was in Greenhouse seven, which has been sealed, and the students in question are with their heads of house, Professors McGonagall and Flitwick," Albus said.

Amelia quickly dismissed the Aurors to go about their business and turned to Albus when the two had left.

"Make this private," she said, without preamble.

Albus stared at her for a moment; the decision already made, but years of sticking to a script left him greatly reluctant. His lack of foreknowledge didn't stop him from guessing where this conversation was going. Yet all the same, he drew his wand and made several incantations. The portraits on the wall all flipped around, his windows shuttered, and the sounds from a host of items around his office dampened.

"Is the Potter boy's death part of your plan, Albus? Because I wonder sometimes where this is all going." she said taking a seat across from him.

Albus sat down.

"It is not," he said. "Harry will live, if I have anything to say on the matter, though I've already said too much. We all have a part to play in this Amelia, and it is so much easier to play it if you don't have foreknowledge. Every action you take has to be natural or everything could fall apart."

"But that's the problem Albus" Amelia said. "The Pillars were never meant for such a long play. You've said it yourself; the smallest deviation could derail everything in the long run. I'm not perfect Albus, and neither are you. It's time to end this. Can you truthfully tell me you can't find He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named? That you can't find his followers? We could stop him now, today, or at least ensure he never comes back. Tell me what you know, tell me what you've seen and I'll damn the treaties. I'll strike wherever he's hiding and end this now and forever."

"You know the prophesy as well as I," Albus said. “Harry is the only one who can destroy Voldemort and that will not be happening anytime soon, we must keep everything on track or we will be maneuvering blind when it becomes most critical that we are able to guide the future."

"No you would be blinded Albus," Amelia said heatedly. "I always have been, in this endeavor. Tell me what you've seen and we can break the prophesy. Remove the burden from that boy's shoulders and deal with Him as he should have been dealt with twelve years ago. Forget the course, it's time we charted our own."

"It is not so simple as that." Albus said.

"So I suppose it is simple to watch others die, knowing that you could have saved them," Amelia said, her words biting. "Or has all the years leading others to battle numbed you to that."

"Do you know why the pillars are never used?" Albus asked, a nonsequiter.

"Of course..." Amelia started to say, but Albus cut her off.

"They drive most who enter them mad. If they ever come out at all, that is," he said.

"And if it wasn't for a Prophecy that foretold the death of the dark lord by an infant, I would have never let you into the Department of Mysteries to use them," Amelia said. "But..."

"Those who come out and are not mad, often cannot keep the different timelines separate, or forget most everything, in spite of the changes that the pillars make to the brain," Albus continued as if she had not said a word.

"Yes," she shouted. "And I get that it is your brilliant mind that kept you sane, and allowed you to remember what you needed, but that doesn't make you perfect, this plan can still fail if you leave too much up to fate."

Albus shook his head. "Most who have studied the pillars, and those who have come out, believe that the knowledge is too much for the brain to handle. Too much too fast, and the brain just breaks. But I have a different insight. That when you see all the different ways your future can play out, all the different ways your decisions can impact the world, all the ways you can do everything right and chance can still ruin everything, when you see how very many ways that the world can fall into chaos and despair and how difficult it is, how treacherous is the path of peace, and prosperity, it is so easy to give up.

“I went in expecting to see years of war until Harry or Neville were old enough to fulfill the prophesy. What I wasn't expecting, was to see over a decade of peace in between. And I did see peace, I saw victory over Voldemort and an end to this madness. But there are so many ways for it to go wrong. So many ways Harry didn't survive to come to Hogwarts. So many ways he dies at the hands of death eaters and the dark lord himself and I live long enough to see the world fall to ruin. I have seen it all up to each and every death for myself that was foreseeable then. I know what must happen to end Voldemort. I know which paths we can follow, and what paths lead to certain ruin. There are certainly variants from our current path that lead to Voldemort's death, and so many that lead to our destruction. But it is the paths I don't see, the paths that I could not see for I never saw them in my future, because I would have never considered them without my foreknowledge, that weigh on me; it is the unknown that keeps me up at night. So yes Amelia, it is simple to watch those I care about die when I could have prevented it. It is so very simple. I am, in the end, following a script. But that doesn't make it easy, and it certainly doesn't mean it does not weigh on me.

“I could have saved the Potters. At least for that one night. But after that, what then? Their death happened in every variant. You could say, in hindsight, that the prophesy required it. Yet if I had saved them, we would not have had this peace, Voldemort would still be in power, and countless more would be dead. I knew that the parameters around which he was defeated were so very complex and detailed that they could not simply be reproduced. They had to happen naturally, as everything has been since then. As his final defeat will be. We are aimed at a future where Voldemort is no more; where we have peace and stability. It is the most certainty we can have with any course of action. It has been over thirteen years since you let me into the Department of Mysteries. I ask that you wait four more for the death of Voldemort."

"You mean for the boy to face Him when he is only seventeen?" Amelia asked.

"Much longer than that and the prospects are unthinkable. There are few variants where I live long enough to see what happens in a world where Voldemort wins in the end. What I have seen of those futures is more terrible than you can imagine. I will tell you, that we only ever saw a glimmer of what his world vision is. I will tell you that the variants I have seen where both Harry and Voldemort survive long after Harry turns seventeen are very grim, and our chances of victory very small. All of that is more than you truly need to know. You must always be able to act as if I had never used the pillars, for one can never see those futures."

"And that is all the more reason to act now. Use what knowledge we have now to end it before it can get to that," Amelia implored.

"Let us say that we did," Albus said. "Voldemort has always been deviously cunning and cautious. I could tell you where, in general, he is; I could even tell you who is with him and perhaps we could devise a way to neutralize him and make sure that he is never again a threat. If one thing goes wrong, if he escapes, if he has one failsafe that I don't know about, then we shall have failed, and we will forever from that point be sailing blind into the storm. Even with everything I know, there would be no guarantee, and I have seen well how very many ways there are for us to fail when we do not know what is coming. Our greatest chance is to wait and to give Harry and the prophecy the best chances of playing out in our favor."

"Does he even have a choice in the matter," Amelia asked.

"Of course he has a choice," Albus said. "We always have a choice; regardless of my foreknowledge or actions. It is one of the things that changes very little between the variants; that Harry chooses to fight. He chooses to sacrifice. He chooses those he loves over himself. He chooses to end Voldemort once and for all. Harry will not stumble into killing the Dark Lord. He chooses to fight. Yes, I will guide him to that decision and that path, but he still has that choice. As much choice as fate gives any of us."

"I think you would find that that is not very much when it is you who is pulling our strings," Amelia said, rising.

"Amelia..." Albus said.

"I will see this through to the end Albus. And I do not begrudge you what you have had to do to see victory. I should not have suggested that it was easy for you."

She crossed the room, not looking at him.

"Well then" she said. "Tell me what I need to do to correct this small deviation I have caused and lets have some tea while we wait, shall we?"


IIIIIIIIIIII


Hermione had mentioned that Professor Snape and Madame Pomfrey had pumped him full of potions the night before, and he reckoned that that was why he had no appetite while he worked through his breakfast. At first he had been determined to finish it. Madame Pomfrey saw a lack of appetite as a sign that something was wrong, and Harry had been determined to show her that he was fine and that there was no reason for him to stay. Merlin knew that she seemed to think that there should be something wrong with him and she'd look for any reason to keep him longer.

Ron and Hermione had been sent off to get ready for classes while the matron walked about the infirmary, doing what looked like an inventory. The thing was; the longer he sat up in bed trying to force himself to eat, the more he had time to think about everything that had happened. A foreign thought began to form in his mind: he didn't want to leave the infirmary. He had been attacked by students unknown and as he had lain dying, more had taken shots at him; broken his bones and burned his flesh. He didn't want to walk the halls right then and wonder who. He didn't want to see pity in anyone's face, and he couldn't stand to see one more person look at him like he was a monster.

"Come now dear," Madame Pomfrey said. "Don't just push the food around your plate. You're skin and bones already, no point in starving yourself."

Harry had to clear a lump in his throat before he could speak. "Actually," he said, making a split-second decision. "I'm not feeling very well. I don't think I'll finish."

"Well, see now," she said. "You students are always trying to rush out of here before you're healed. I'm afraid I'm going to have to keep you here Mr. Potter, at least until after lunch. We'll see if you're feeling better by then."

Harry made a token effort to act disappointed and Madame Pomfrey removed his breakfast and told him to try to get some sleep. The problem was though, he didn't feel tired in the least. Left on his own, he found himself thinking about a number of things he rather wouldn't like to. He thought about the attack, about Greyback, and about a number of things he hadn't bothered himself with until the dementors had intruded upon his psyche and dredged up every sad story from his childhood. It didn't matter that he wasn't that boy anymore, that it was in the past and that he wasn't going back. He still felt like that boy in the cupboard under the stairs, and looking back on that life with the context of the past few years of friendship and comfort only seemed to put that life in a more depressing context.

He didn't have too long to brood though. Professor McGonagall came to see him shortly thereafter. Whereas Harry felt as though he had been asleep for a long long time, Professor McGonagall looked as though she had not slept at all the night prior.

"Good morning Mr. Potter," she said. "I understand you will not be joining us for class this morning."

Harry felt his chest clench up and he had to stubbornly force himself to say anything. "No Professor," he said, not really meeting her gaze. He didn't want his head of house to know that it was because he didn't want to join his peers just then.

"You should know, Mr. Potter, that Mark Daniels and Ritta Ristich were expelled and arrested by Aurors this morning for poisoning you. You will not have to worry about them in the future. As well, though last night should have been proof enough that you are not infected, these werewolf rumors are being handled directly by the faculty this morning; and a few students will be serving detentions for attacking you."

"Did they say anything?" Harry asked. "Before they were taken away.

"I do not know if you were made aware of the details Mr. Potter, but you were poisoned with an oil extracted from Wolfsbane, it is very readily absorbed by the skin. It is certainly not a defense, but they did seem to think that it would only kill you if you were in fact a werewolf."

"I didn't think it was that poisonous to non-werewolfs. I mean I didn't even eat it," He said, confused. If it was so horrible to people, why was it called wolfsbane?

"Werewolves are far more sensitive to the poison, Mr. Potter, than those who are not. A werewolf who ingests or otherwise absorbs only a small amount will die. If you had been a werewolf you would certainly be dead. As for everyone else, Mr. Potter, it is still a poison and a high enough dose will kill you. The oil used against you was extracted from a large amount of wolfsbane. As it was Mr. Potter, it was enough to paralyze your diaphragm and, for a very small moment before Professor Snape arrived, it stopped your heart. I will not say that you were lucky, for indeed that would be ridiculous, but I will say that matters could have gone much worse last night."

Harry processed that for a moment. A part of him wanted to ask why. Why had they poisoned him, why hadn't they waited till the moon had risen. He didn't have to though. It hadn't taken him long with his own thoughts to figure it out. That anyone who thought that he was a werewolf would see the party in an entirely different light than those who did not. In the end, the party had been a large gathering of students in a room as the moon rose. If Harry had indeed been a werewolf he could have infected or killed a lot of people. But that still left one question.

"Do I really come off as so horrible that people just assume that if I became a werewolf, I'd decide to try to pass it on to as many people as I could? Haven't I done enough to prove that I wouldn't do that?"

Professor McGonagall sighed. "Mr. Potter, this is less a matter of your character than it is the communal perception of Lycanthropy. Werewolves have always existed at the fringe of our society, and they largely keep to themselves, or perhaps it is more accurate to say that they have been kept at the fringe of society. For this reason, unfortunately, it is easy for werewolves like Fenrir Greyback to appear to represent the group as a whole. It is commonly believed that Lycanthropy destroys the humanity of a person who is infected, though there has never been any evidence that this is the case."

Harry supposed that that was cold comfort. There was a bit of silence before Professor McGonagall excused herself to get to the first class of the day.


IIIIIIIIIIIIIII


Amelia had done well; she always did well. She knew herself well enough that she could act her own part perfectly. When she and her Aurors had left with two of his former students in tow, everything had been playing out according to how it should. Yet her words rang in his ears. Everything could fall apart; a small change now could lead to large changes in the future and would lead to greater uncertainty. Now more than ever, even after he had allayed her doubts and set her back on course, he felt the pieces of the decade old puzzle he had been fitting together start to crumble.

It had nothing to do, really, with Amelia's words, but rather with Severus's moments before. It made no sense, and Albus for the life of him could not identify the source of the deviation, but it was there all the same. Harry had decided to undertake a potions project. This had never happened in any of the futures he had seen.

He had tried to encourage Severus to have a better relationship with Harry for a while. Variants where they got along lead to greater possibilities for success. It was why he had had Severus accompany the train to Hogwarts, and recent events had indeed been leading towards a lessening of hostilities. But in no variant that Albus had seen had Harry decided to take on a potions project. Everything else had been going to form; there hadn't been a serious deviation in over a decade, and that one had been relatively easy to set back on track, but this was not so easy. Indeed, just trying to fix this deviation could lead to even greater deviations. Where was he left then?

Yet that deviation from all those years ago. Perhaps that was the source. It too had involved Severus as well as Harry's mother. Albus had still been adjusting to everything he had seen in the Pillars, he had made mistakes in the beginning. One of those mistakes had led to a large deviation with Lily. Severus had missed a check-in. Not something entirely to worry about. Such was the nature of the rather unpredictable life of a spy. Yet Albus had just recently come out of the Pillars. Not all of the information had been processed. The assault on his mind had been fresh, and he had still not recovered from the ordeal. He could not yet recall every detail, every pathway. He had thought that Severus's absence had been a deviation. He had summoned the man, and that was when the true deviation had occurred. Lily had seen Severus leaving the Headmaster's office when she thought him still a loyal Death Eater. She had asked Albus straight out if Severus was working for him. In no variant had she ever been given sufficient reason to doubt his loyalties to Voldemort. Yet anything that she had suspected would have surely died with her.

The letter though. In some of the variants, Harry had eventually made him aware of a letter his mother had sent him, delayed to reach him on his thirteenth birthday. A letter to tell him about the medical condition he had inherited from James Potter. He knew that Lily and James had included stories from their childhood as well.

Perhaps Lily, hoping for the best from Severus, had included stories of her childhood friend. Could that have inclined Harry to decide to spend more time with Severus? It seemed unlikely. Perhaps that was all it was though; something small and trivial disappearing for over a decade to affect change now. Albus knew well just how something small could travel across time. Yet even if that was the source of the deviation, where did that leave everything? He knew well how many ways a path could deviate, but he had the map in his head.

Perhaps he could not fix this deviation, but it wasn't time yet to call everything off. He still knew where everything needed to lead to, which way lay victory. Could he plan his way around this? So much could conceivably change if he made a misstep.

In the end, of course, he had little choice. He couldn't fix the deviation without risking an even larger one, and he couldn't abandon the plan. He would just have to keep a closer eye on matters and be prepared to make small changes as needed. They were no longer on the right path, but they were right next to it, following it at a distance, and Albus would see that they did not deviate any further from it.


IIIIIIIIIII


By the time lunchtime had rolled around Harry had gathered himself to face the rest of the school. Madame Pomfrey had made sure he ate every bit of the lunch that had popped up on the table by his bedside and then given him a clean bill of health telling him he could return to classes.

"What did I miss?" he asked Ron, sliding into a seat next to him in History of Magic.

"Madness, I tell you," Ron said. "Professor Lupin's out sick and they had Snape taking over. But get this. He taught us about werewolves. Not just how to survive if you get cornered by one, but all about them when they aren't transformed. I don't know, it was almost like he was sneering at anyone who'd thought you were a werewolf, if you can imagine. You know how Malfoy had been saying that Greyback kept his own saliva from the full moon so that he could infect people any time he wants?"

Harry had lost track of a lot of the various things Malfoy had said.

"Turns out that's impossible," Ron said.

"Well that's something," Harry said.

"Also, Dumbledore gave a big talk in the Great Hall during breakfast about rumors and panic and stuff. He said you'd have died if you'd actually been a werewolf, so the rumors should go away now," Ron said.

Harry didn't really know what to think about Snape, or the rest of the school for that matter. He had plenty of time to think of it though as Professor Binns started his lesson.

Ron was right, the rumors had died down. He still got the occasional distrustful glance but for the most part people were ignoring him. Harry wondered if perhaps they were embarrassed to have been proven wrong.

He had found time to track down the Ravenclaw prefect, Bryan Willoughby, who had saved his life. The thank you had been a bit awkward as had been the rejoinder, but Harry was dreading a bit the prospect of seeing Snape again. He knew that he owed the man the same.

He had seen Snape in class, and once while working on his potions project since the incident on the full moon, but now it was Monday and after classes he would be returning to the dungeons to work on his project. It being Monday meant that this time he would be working alone, with Snape.

"Where are you going," Hermione asked.

"The dungeons," Harry said. "Lab time's about to start."

"Dressed like that?" Hermione asked.

"No point in getting good robes blown up in a potions accident," Harry said. "Dress code doesn't apply after class."

"That doesn't mean you should wear your grungiest clothes," Hermione said.

"They're comfortable," Harry said.

"Come here," Hermione said. She pulled out her wand and before he knew it, his old robes were wrinkle free and had fewer faded splotches.

"Those aren't the robes you fought the basilisk in, are they?" Hermione asked, her nose wrinkled.

"They're still useable," Harry said. "Everything came out pretty well in the wash."

"You should have just thrown them out," Hermione said. "You're not going to impress Professor Snape coming in dressed like that."

"Who said I'm tying to impress him?" Harry asked. "I just want to get to know him a bit more or something."

"Yes," Hermione said. "And I suppose that'll be easy while looking like a vagabond."

Harry shrugged and turned to go.

"You could stand to do something with your hair," Hermione called.

Harry just waved goodbye. Honestly, he thought, it wasn't like he was going on a date with the man. He shuddered at the thought. He pointedly ruffled up his hair.

One of the nice changes since the full moon was that he no longer walked the halls with an escort. Gryffindor's first quidditch match was coming up soon enough and Harry could only imagine Wood's fervor in protecting his star seeker if people were still hexing Harry in the halls.

Too soon, he was in the dungeons and he was somewhat dismayed to see Malfoy walking away from the potions lab. He was ready for some sort of taunt or sneer from the boy, but he didn't get anything. Malfoy walked past as if Harry wasn't even there. Which was fine by Harry, though he was sort of reminded of how the Dursleys would do the same when they were so inclined. Not that it was a bad thing, he did better without their attention than with and the same applied to Malfoy.

He walked into the potions lab where he was ignored by Snape as well. Unfortunately, while Harry was just fine with the man not trying to antagonize him, he didn't exactly want to spend the time in complete silence. He was still wary of Hermione's idea to ask the man a bunch of potions questions, but fortunately he had at least a bit of a reason to speak to the man.

"Sir," he said. Hermione had made sure to remind him to always follow decorum while speaking to the man. "I'm ready to start a test brew today. I brought the writeup." He handed a piece of parchment to the professor.

Snape took the parchment with a put-upon expression and started perusing the writeup in silence.

"Why do you stir only three and a half times after you add the toad gallbladder?" Snape asked suddenly.

"Because it will explode if you stir it four times and won't work if you only stir it three," Harry said.

"But why, Mr. Potter?" Snape asked.

"Bernoulie's principles governing bile's interaction with manticore saliva?" Harry asked.

Snape looked displeased, but continued to ask questions. Harry figured that Snape was probably hoping that the writeup had been written with a lot of help from Hermione and that Harry wouldn't be able to answer the questions.

"You will call me to inspect your progress before you add the bot-fly larvae," Snape told Harry, handing him the writeup entirely dismissively.

Harry took the parchment and went to one of the lab's stations where he started preparing potions ingredients, feeling a little frustrated. Not for the first time he started to doubt that this endeavor was going anywhere. He had no idea how to talk to the man outside of class-related matters, and Snape, as of late, had started looking rather put upon to have to talk to Harry at all. All that was really happening was that they were spending time in a room together, and while the lack of any argument was a bit of a step forward who's origin Harry still couldn't figure out, Harry didn't think he would ever actually answer any of the questions he had concerning the man. He considered that it had been fairly optimistic of him to consider that this project would go anywhere. He'd probably have better luck tracking down people who had known his mum and Snape. There was Aunt Petunia, sure, though Harry wasn't exactly about to drop her a letter. There was also Professor Lupin, he knew, but regardless of who it was, Harry was very reluctant to start asking questions about his mum and some bloke she'd dated when she was in school. That was a pretty good way to start rumors.

He wound up botching the potion by the time he was ready to add the bot-fly larvae. He told himself that it was because he had been distracted and not because it was a rather complex potion that was a bit beyond his skill level. Snape's sneer when he inspected it seemed to say that he had known very well that the potion wasn't within Harry's capabilities.

Yet soon the man's features smoothed over and he very impassively said, "either try again, or leave and revise before another attempt." Harry didn't have to guess which one Snape would prefer.

"I think I'll revise, Professor," Harry said, starting to clean up the station. He got no response from the man as he started to put away his supplies.

"Professor," he said, pausing on his way out of the classroom. "Thank you for saving my life," he said. "Again. And for the times before that, and everything."

"Move along, Mr. Potter," was all Snape said.

"Right," Harry said, before he walked out of the potions lab and headed back above ground.


IIIIIIIIII


Severus contemplated Potter as the boy walked out the door. He doubted the boy would thank him for everything if he knew what 'everything' entailed. He pushed those thoughts from the forefront of his mind.

Potter was behaving peculiarly, and as much as Severus wanted to tell himself that it was no concern of his own, he couldn't deny the curiosity he felt every time he interacted with the boy. Just as he couldn't assuage his own guilt when the boy had thanked him, for 'everything.'
To be continued...


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