"I'm ready to add the mercury, sir," Harry said, breaking the silence that had pervaded the potions lab for the past half an hour.

If not for the blank expression that suffused Snape's face at that moment, indeed that very often came over Snape's face lately, Harry would have expected the man to have sighed, or given some indication of what he thought. It was Monday, and Harry was once more attempting a brew. He had gotten a fair bit further than he had the last time. The process was a bit more exciting, really, than what they normally brewed in class. For instance, before Harry could conduct the next step, the professor would need to apply a bubblehead charm for him. Mercury was exceptionally toxic.

Snape beckoned him over to the workstation in the front of the lab where he had been revising notes for whichever project he was working on. The man passively tapped his wand on the top of Harry's brow before doing the same to his own. It was an odd sensation, Harry found. All of the smells that he had grown accustomed to in the potions lab disappeared. The air now smelled of absolutely nothing. What's more, his already poor vision was constantly being ever so slightly distorted as the sphere around his head seemed to be in a constant state of flux. Snape handed him the vial of the liquid metal and Harry started walking excitedly back to his workstation. He found he was really looking forward to the next step.

Stepping up to his cauldron, Harry started to uncap the quicksilver before he remembered to remove the flame. The potion had to be as hot as possible without actually boiling. Harry waited until the last bubble burst at the top of the cauldron before he slowly drizzled the mercury into the brew. Then he waited. Waiting was the hardest part to potions brewing, he thought.

He waited in silence. He was getting tired of so much silence. Silence reminded him of being locked up in his cupboard when the Dursleys went out and had no one to watch him. Though, there was a safety in silence too... Suddenly, without warning, the contents of his cauldron started to rotate. He checked his notes to make sure it was spinning the right direction. He smiled; everything was going well, with the potion at least, and this was the first time he had brewed a self-stirring potion. The potion started rotating faster and faster, and a silvery glow started to emanate from the developing vortex in the middle. It wasn't long after that that a fog of sorts started to form over the potion, which soon seemed to contract inward before shooting up, spreading out at the ceiling and dissipating as charms that circulated air in the potions lab sucked out the toxic fumes.

Harry rather thought that it all seemed to be a good way to mark the completion of a potion, but unfortunately, this was one of a couple of stopping points in the brew. There was a bit more waiting as Harry marked down notes, while the potion, which was still calming down, settled and cooled. Next he divvied the potion up into six beakers. During his next lab session, he would continue the potion with only one of the beakers. He had six tries from this point to finish the potion unless he wanted to start over from scratch. Harry walked up to the front of the lab to have the bubblehead charm removed.

"It worked," he said.

He got a raised eyebrow in return. Snape had, of course, seen the spectacular product of his work as well as Harry had. The man dipped the tip of his wand in the bubble surrounding Harry's head and the wibbly-wobbly sphere popped. Snape's was already gone.

"Right," Harry said, "well I have a bit of cleaning up to do." With that, Harry walked back to his workstation and started putting everything away, still fairly put out for the lack of progress with the Snape project. He had been about to put his notes away when he made the decision, rather abruptly, not to. He sat back down at the workstation and started looking over his notes, or rather, pretending to. Inside he was thinking. He didn't want to waste another Monday with no progress whatsoever; nothing different from the week before. He didn't have much to work off of, though. Nothing except for Hermione's advice from earlier. He still didn't want to talk about potions though. That wasn't at all why he was there. But he didn't want to talk about nothing either. Except he rather didn't know what he did want to talk about, or how to go about it, so he supposed potions would have to do. He searched around for something to talk about.

"Professor," he said to the man across the room. He got half a glance; Snape was still clearly focused on his own work. Harry felt the words momentarily get swallowed in his throat and he rather desperately forced them out. "I was wondering if you had any insight on the Mercury, and why it doesn't react with the dragon's blood?"

There was a pause and for a moment Harry thought that Snape was just going to ignore the question altogether.

"Had you put as much time into this project as you put into quidditch you would know why that is an inane question," Snape finally said, not looking up.

"Well I saw what the text had to say," Harry said defensively, finding it easier now to keep the conversation going. "I was just wondering what your opinion was, sir."

"Given that there is no proper evidence to support either hypothesis, I fail to see why I should have an opinion either way. Hypotheses are not ice cream flavors, one should not simply pick one because it is their favorite." Still the man kept his attention on his work.

His answer left Harry a little stumped, and more than a little rankled. However, still not wanting to leave without making any progress, Harry pressed on and thought of a way to continue the conversation.

"Well isn't there a lot of things that you do based on intuition? On our first day of class, you said that potion making was a science, but you also said it was an art. I just thought that maybe your instincts favored one theory over the other. I mean the guy who invented the potion probably had one, otherwise he would have expected the cauldron to explode when he added the Mercury the first time." Harry said a little stiltedly.

Again a pause, but this time Snape looked up. "I could not say what lead Kempt to conclude that the Mercury would be safe; he did not leave any clues in his writings. For myself, I don't believe that either theory actually explain the phenomenon. My opinion is that neither one is accurate."

"Why not?" Harry asked. "Professor."

"I had thought that instinct was enough of a reason to have an opinion," Professor Snape said.

Harry shrugged.

"It is a great mystery," the man said. "Perhaps the only reason such a complex yet only moderately effective potion has the attention that it does in academia. Many potions masters have attempted to find the answer. The truth is that there has never been any evidence one way or another. Those hypotheses in your book were posited by those who understood only enough of the problem to hazard a guess. Those who had long studied the phenomenon knew enough to understand that they had no idea."

With that said, Snape clearly turned his attention back to his work.

"Oh, that makes sense then," was the only thing Harry could think to say. After all, he was himself rather bad at making small talk.

Harry didn't know if he should quit while he was ahead or push on. He didn't want to irritate the man. Or at least, he knew that it would be counterproductive. He supposed he should let the man work in peace, as he clearly wanted to. Still though, he wanted to see if the past few minutes had just been a fluke.

He packed the last of his notes and got up to leave.

"Oh, so for the reading for next class," he said, as if it had just occurred to him. "I didn't understand why the thujone reacts with the slate powder when slate's an inert ingredient. I mean it's just used as a stabilizer."

Again, an awkward pause.

"The thujone does not react with the slate powder," Professor Snape said. "The slate powder incidentally carries the rapunzel leaf flakes that have been floating on top of the potion to the bottom, where the thujone has been resting, as it is added. The thujone reacts with the rapunzel and the slate stabilizes the finished potion."

Again, he turned back to his work.

"Right," Harry said. "Thanks, Professor, I'll see you in class then."

He walked out.

So it seemed that they could have civil conversations. Of sorts. Harry just wondered if they could talk about anything besides potions, or really, what that would be at all. He doubted he could get the man to talk about his mother, and he wasn't sure if he wanted him to either. But somewhere in the man lay the answer to the mystery of why his mum had liked him. Also too, Harry had started to wonder if there was anything other than the hemophilia that he had gotten from Snape. Besides the scowl that Ron now swore was a mirror replica of Snape's own, Harry couldn't really see anything much of the man in himself and he wondered what Snape had been like when he was thirteen. Like Snape's own new attitude around Harry, it was all a mystery.


IIIIIIIIIIIIII


Severus stopped occluding the moment Potter left the potions lab. With the boy around, Occlumancy was the only way to focus on his work, instead of grudges against people long since dead. Occlumency was a wonderful study aide, and if any of the half-witted students he taught could master it, he was certain that grades would start to improve. However, it was not at all good for creative thinking, and Severus's current project required plenty of it.

His life would be so much easier without Potter in it. For it didn't matter how many times he saved the boy's neck, he would always remind him of the one who hadn't been saved. Yet, more and more he saw that Lily lived on in her son; not in many ways, but in those that counted most. The more time he spent occluding around Potter, the more he saw that the boy lacked what Severus had loathed in James Potter. This wasn't exactly comforting, of course. Life would be so much easier if the boy was every bit the arrogant bully his father had been; he could feel justified in his treatment of him. Yet more and more, thoughts of how Lily would look upon him if she could see him haunted him. She haunted him. She had been for so long.

He cast that thought aside. Lily wasn't some revenant. He longed, though, to just be able to remember her without feeling such loathing for himself. Albus's words rang in his head. What would Lily want? What would she think?

None of these thoughts were relevant though. He briefly cleared his mind once more before he turned to his work, letting his mind immerse itself in solving the problem before him.


IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII


Harry checked his watch and frowned. He wouldn't be getting much sleep that night. He had had far too much homework piled on him that day, and with quidditch practice the next night, he'd need to get most of it done sooner rather than later. Making his way through the dungeons and up into the warmer and brighter halls of the castle, Harry frowned as he considered his project. No number of stiffly formal conversations were going to get him what he wanted out of the endeavor. Though considering that he didn't think he could put into words exactly what he was looking to gain from it or any sort of landmark where he could say that he had accomplished what he had wanted to accomplish, this was par for the course.

As he rushed to the common room so that he could finish his homework in a decent amount of time, Harry thought that things would be a lot easier if he gave up on the Snape project and quit the wards project to boot. Though, the more he learned about it, the more he did seem to have a genuine interest in wards, and even better, his potions grades were much improved. But was that worth it? Because right then, it was all he was getting. Harry shook his head to himself; he couldn't quit just yet.

When he got to the common room he quickly dropped his bag next to Ron and sat down opposite Hermione, ready to get to his homework. He had hardly had a chance to pull out his Arithmancy text though, when he found himself being pulled away by one of the twins.

"Sorry," George said. "Emergency quidditch meeting."

Harry sighed as he was dragged out of the common room. Wood had been getting more and more fervent with quidditch. His manic desire to win the cup that year was an obsession that often struck without warning. His exuberance had also gotten them booted from the common room enough times that they had started holding such impromptu meetings in a close-by storeroom by the portrait of the fat lady. However, they didn't stop there as George led him down the hall.

"Aren't we…" Harry began.

"Might have lied about the quidditch meeting," George said.

Harry was starting to get nervous now; with the twins, one could never be sure where something was going.

"Um, I actually have a fair bit of homework I still need to do," Harry said.

"You won't care about that in a moment," was George's cryptic response.

This did nothing to reassure Harry. "I'm pretty sure I'll care tomorrow when I haven't slept and still have work to do."

"Alright, keep your pants on there, this won't actually take long," George said.

Harry still wasn't reassured. They had gotten into an unused part of the castle and soon they were entering an unused classroom. Fred was already there. He had a familiar looking iron ball that was sitting on a leather pad and he was wearing a glove on his hand. Comprehension dawned somewhat.

"Wait," Harry said. "Are we making confetti again?"

"Hopefully not," Fred said.

"Though if this works we'll make all the confetti you want," George said.

"So what are we doing then?" he asked.

"You'll see," Fred said. He held up a sheet of paper that became suspended in the air with the tap of his wand. As before, a mat was spread out on the ground.

"Should we make a speech first?" Fred asked. "To mark the occasion.

"No speech," Harry said. "Let's see it then."

Fred raised his eyebrows at his twin.

"Simply has too much homework to be spending time with his chums," George commented.

"Ach," Fred cried, now acting mortally wounded. "To be valued less than homework, say it isn't so, Harry."

"Well you're certainly more fun than homework," Harry ceded. "But… Actually I'll leave those sentiments to Hermione. Alright let's have a speech…a short speech."

"Speech!" Fred exclaimed.

George held up an imaginary glass. "Ahem," he said. "To the best thing to happen to pranking since the you-know-what."

Harry didn't know what, but Fred, it seemed, did, as he was nodding his head.

"To profit," Fred said.

"To, um…" Harry said grasping for something to add. "Invention…I think."

"Alright," George said. "That was a little longwinded Harry. We're on a time crunch here. Let's get the train rolling."

Without further chatter, Fred picked up the steel ball with his gloved hand and tossed it at the paper. Instead of the shower of confetti that Harry had seen the last time though, the ball seemed to pass right through, landing on the mat that had been lain out for it. The paper looked like it hadn't been touched. Harry's eyes shot up as he realized what had just happened.

"Lets try something thicker," George said.

"A desk," Fred said, picking up the ball with his gloved hand.

George grinned and picked up the mat, laying it out underneath one of the desks in the room. Fred held the ball out over the desk and dropped it. It sailed right through and landed on the mat. They were both jumping up and down in excitement. George started rubbing his hand over the desk where the ball had passed through.

"So um, that's really cool and all, but what's it going to do exactly?" Harry asked.

"Harry, Harry, Harry, you need to think about the big picture here," Fred said.

"Um, a cannon ball that goes through walls instead of smashing them?" Harry hazarded.

"A picture that's outside of the box," George said.

"Um, wait, it went through it right?" Harry asked. "This is about what I said back in August, about passing through solid stuff. You figured out how to charm people to do that?"

"Well not quite, but we're getting there," Fred said.

"I don't think we'll ever be at the point of being able to just charm someone like that," George added. "But we're looking at a charmed object that'll bring someone along with it."

"We've been meaning to ask actually. How did it go with you? We never got the details." Fred said.

"Did you go through something?" George asked.

"Or did something go through you?" Fred asked.

"Oh," Harry thought. "Both actually."

"Really?" Fred asked.

"So you really were non-corporeal." George said.

"Oh, what if you could make yourself incorporeal so spells would go through you?" Harry asked.

"We'd have to come up with something completely different," Fred said. "This doesn't work at all like that."

"So what did you pass through and whatnot?" George asked.

"Oh, um," he said sort of embarrassed. "My cousin's hand went through my head and I went through… a wall," he lied at the end, if only because saying his bed would sound more messed up than it had been. A brief look passed between the twins. "So how does it work?" Harry asked, his homework forgotten.

"Oh, well nothing like what you just described," George said.

"We're not going through stuff so much as disassembling everything in our path and telling it to put itself back together after we get through." Fred said proudly.

"And doing it fast enough that you can't really tell," George added.

"That sounds really complicated," Harry said.

"Oh it is," Fred said. "Very precise charm work, took us forever to do that there," he said, gesturing towards the ball.

"Actually got the idea from that wall in Diagon Alley, how it disassembles itself to make a doorway," Georg said.

"But it didn't take us too long to get the concept down," Fred added.

"Had a lot of help from Madame Tooling, though," George said. "When we've got a working prototype, she's going to have exclusive retail rights."

"And we're going to be rich," Fred said.

"And you'll be running through walls as much as you like," George said.

"I will?" Harry asked.

"Sure thing," said Fred.

"You were our inspiration," George said. "You'll get to play with it when we've got all the kinks out."

"Mind you, you'd better put it to good use," Fred said. "I mean with an invisibility cloak and the ability to walk through walls, we'll be expecting quite a bit from the likes of you."

Harry hadn't actually pulled a prank in his life, discounting accidental magic and blowing up that cauldron. That had been a heist. Still, his mind was brimming with the possibilities.

"Well I can't wait," Harry said.

"Oh right, almost forgot," Fred said.

"What?" Harry asked.

Fred didn't reply, he did though pull out his wand and, with a flourish and a few odd words, confetti started raining down.


IIIIIIIIIIIIIII


"So what do you suppose'll happen this Halloween?" Ron asked.

It seemed a bit early, but the castle was already being done up a bit here and there for the holiday.

"What do you mean?" Hermione asked.

Ron looked at her like she was daft. "First year we had to clobber a troll, second year the chamber got opened and Filch almost killed Harry. Something'll happen this year for sure."

"Well both of those times there were crazy people running about causing trouble," Hermione said. "We shouldn't have to worry this year."

"There's crazy people running around this year," Ron said. "Crazy people who want to kill Harry."

"Yes Ron," Hermione said. "Crazy people outside of Hogwarts. They can't cause us any trouble in here."

"Oh just go right ahead and jinx the whole thing why don't you," Ron said. "Now Harry's probably going to get bitten by Greyback on Halloween."

"I don't know," Harry said. "That whole social pariah thing in September really sold me on the idea, you know?"

"If he doesn't just eat you in one bite," Ron said, gesturing towards Harry and his small stature.

"Hey, I'm due for a growth spurt any day now," Harry said. About a week prior, Madame Pomfrey had given the third year boys a talk about growth spurts… among other things. Really, growth spurts had been the least surprising and certainly the least disturbing thing she had talked about. He'd rather remain in ignorance than forever have to remember the old matron giving him The Talk with all of his male classmates. He'd been trying not to think about most of it, though growth spurts had at least held promise that he might not always have to worry about being mistaken for a second year, or worse, a first year. Ron, who had already been a couple inches taller than Harry had recently shot up, and Harry was less than patiently awaiting his own turn, and not for the first time, Harry wondered how much his earlier childhood had affected his stature.

"Sure Harry, you just keep telling yourself that," Ron said.

"Besides," Hermione said. "Harry's been studying really hard for defense. Fenrir Greyback might just be in for a surprise if he ever catches up to him."

"Thanks," Harry said, not so convinced. "Of course if he tried to go at me while you two were there, you'd probably have him wrapped up in a spell no one's ever heard of before and Ron'd stab him with his own pocketknife."

"Too right," Ron said. "Just don't stick your wand up his nose; you wouldn't want werewolf bogies on it. Of course since we now know that Hermione's jinxed things so Greyback'll attack on Halloween, we can be prepared for him."

"Oh, I did no such thing," Hermione said. "How about you tell me how you prepared for the Transfiguration test we have in five minutes."

"Does playing chess with Harry count?" Ron asked. "It's like mental stretching.

"Oh Ronald," Hermione sighed.

Actually, Ron had been taking his studies a bit more seriously this year. Though he complained about it, his own project with the chess set did seem to interest him and he had been getting guidance from Professor Flitwick on how to proceed. He had been enchanting small objects to move on their own and cataloging chess moves; baby steps towards his final goal.

For himself, Harry was doing alright, considering how much more work he had been talked into. It had been a while since he had felt that something bad was going to happen if he was seen to be doing well in school, and now it was actually starting to feel good to do well. Even though there was only so much studying he could tolerate before he wanted to hop on his broom and fly out a window. His potions project was going well, though it had taken him four tries to get to the next resting point. He had successfully held a handful of conversations with Professor Snape, though they were all potions related. It seemed to work.

It was Hermione, of course, who Harry couldn't figure out. How she managed to get to all of her classes, work on multiple projects, help Harry and Ron with their projects and help them study, Harry didn't know. He didn't think two people working together could manage it. Though he had long since stopped questioning how Hermione did it all; she just did.

They arrived in Transfiguration, and Harry was glad for the review that Professor McGonagall gave before the test, which she did not always provide. During the test though, Harry found his mind wandering. It wasn't that the subject of turning ferrous metals into non-ferrous metals wasn't engaging, though it wasn't. It was more the thoughts that kept running through his head that wouldn't leave him alone. Thoughts of Greyback.

It was odd, perhaps, that he should focus so much on the man. Hermione was right: he couldn't get into the castle, and he hadn't even been seen since the last time he had tried to kidnap Harry. Beckett, on the other hand, had been prolific. With heightened security, he had stopped going for large targets, but that didn't stop him from burning down buildings left and right, and killing dozens of people, mostly muggles. Though muggles didn't make the front page.

Yet even with what he had seen in the morning paper that day, it was Greyback who Harry thought of while he should have been focusing on his test. He thought of a spell that hadn't worked, and an emaciated man who had just escaped from prison who had been able to throw him around like a rag doll. He hated feeling so helpless. He hated even more the knowledge that he wouldn't be much better off if Greyback did attack that Halloween. Heck, he'd be better off with the sword of Gryffindor than with his wand. Suddenly, learning about Grindylows and Kappas in Defense Against the Dark Arts didn't seem like the best use of his time.


IIIIIIIIIIII


It rained a lot in Scotland, a fair bit more than it did in Surrey actually, and Harry had always considered Surrey to be fairly rainy when he was younger. But come October, it seemed the skies just opened up on them at Hogwarts. Unfortunately, this was also when Oliver was the most eager to practice. Oh, not just because the first quidditch match was less than a month away but because he loved to practice in bad weather. Really, Harry thought, Oliver was miserable in the rain too, for all of his enthusiasm, but Oliver Wood wanted them to be the team that practiced no matter what. He wanted them to hold the upper ground come rain or shine; to be the only team that could fly their best in the middle of a hurricane.

Harry though, who loved quidditch, who really loved flying, loved feeling like he was especially good at something, and loved the feeling that nothing, not even a bludger, could catch him, even if that wasn't exactly true; Harry hated flying in the rain. It wasn't that he'd get cold and wet, well not entirely; it was that he couldn't feel quite so free when his robes clung to him and dragged him down; how he could barely see through his glasses.

As he walked out of the boys changing room, he was a bit put out to see that it was raining just as much as it had been when he had started cleaning his gear after practice. He paused at the doorway to consider if he could transfigure himself an umbrella or if that would even do any good with how much wind there was. The wind was the worst part. He figured he would just trudge up to the castle as is, he was halfway decent with a drying charm. He cast a wary glance at the dementors gliding along the wall not too far off, whose chill and melancholy he could now separate from the effects of being cold and wet as he trudged up to the castle alone after practice. Or not quite alone. He heard some Latin, the roots of which he couldn't follow, and as he stepped out from the covering and into the rain he found that it didn't touch him. He turned around to find Angelina Johnson behind him, casting a charm on herself. She had just come out of the girls changing room.

"Thanks," he said. "Are Kattie and Alicia coming?"

"No, Alicia's pulled something in her lower back and Kattie's helping her stretch it out. Actually from the sound of it Kattie was getting ready to take her through a Yoga routine; she just started over the summer and she's been trying to get us to take it up since September."

They had started walking up to the castle. It was very weird to walk through a storm and not get wet.

"This charm seems handy," Harry said, indicating the spell that was keeping him dry. "I should learn it."

"It's actually pretty tricky," Angelina said. "When we covered it in Charms last month, half the class hadn't mastered it before the end of the period."

"Figures," Harry said, a bit disappointed but also a bit determined.

"Did the twins and Olie leave already?" Angelina asked.

"Yeah," Harry said. "I take a bit longer to get out of there I guess."

"Well if you didn't insist on cleaning your gear after each practice, you could probably finish up with them. Once a week is just fine." Angelina said.

Harry shrugged. "You need to take care of things if you want them to last. It's nice to have nice things."

"Well still, how often do you walk back to the castle alone?" Angelina asked.

"Most of the time, I guess," he said. "You're a bit late getting out, aren't you?"

Angelina laughed. "I had a hard time getting out of that nice hot shower. Took forever to get the chill out of me. You really shouldn't walk back alone though. It's not really safe."

"Between the wards and those ruddy dementors, I think I'm good," Harry said. "Any of that lot would have to be pretty stupid to try to get at me here."

"Well they aren't the only ones to worry about," Angelina said.

"That's gotten a lot better," Harry said. "Most people don't think I'm a werewolf anymore." Though a few people did seem to still be unconvinced. None had threatened him or done anything since the last full moon though; it was just a few dirty looks, and Harry had gotten used to those long before he had come to Hogwarts. Who knew, maybe some of them actually still thought he was the Heir of Slytherin.

"Well I'm sure we'd enjoy your company none the less," Angelina said.

"I'll see what I can do," was Harry's non-committal reply. He supposed he could rush a bit. He'd never been one to take long showers; Uncle Vernon had always made sure that he didn't waste water.

There was a silence between them for a bit; and in the silence, Harry felt that something was off. They were getting farther and farther from the dementors that patrolled the wall, but Harry had a growing feeling of foreboding. There was almost an itch between his shoulder blades, and he could just about feel someone's eyes boring into the back of his head. He kept walking, though it felt like someone was behind him; that he was being watched.

He was being stupid, he knew. Thoughts of Greyback from earlier had him on edge. The dementors had him on edge. The not so subtle reminder of his poisoning had him on edge. Walking back to the castle on a dark stormy night had him on edge. Hermione was right; Harry had said it earlier: Greyback wasn't going to get into Hogwarts. He couldn't sneak in on the back of someone's head, or get smuggled in inside of a diary. Still though, he found himself patting his wand in his pocket as he looked over his shoulder. There wasn't much to see in the heavily overcast night.

"I hope there's a downpour for our first quidditch match," Angelina said as they neared the castle.

"Why would you say that?!" Harry asked aghast.

"Olie's right," Angelina said. "Slytherin hasn't been practicing half as much in bad weather. Between that and Olie's analysis of the Slytherin team, we'll win for sure."

"Well I say we can beat them on a sunny day with one hand tied behind our backs," Harry said.

"That's the spirit," Angelina said.

"Oomf," Harry had the wind knocked out of him as his foot slipped out from underneath him on the wet flagstone of the steps up to the castle.

"Are you alright," Angelina asked, as she helped him back up.

"Yeah, um," Harry checked himself over. "I don't suppose you know any healing charms." He held up his left hand, which he had caught himself with. It had a shallow gash where it had hit the edge of the stone step.

"I probably should," Angelina said, "considering how many quidditch injuries I've seen. But I'm afraid that this is the best I can do for you." She held out a handkerchief for him.

"I'll ruin it," Harry said.

"I can transfigure myself a new one," Angelina said, as though Harry were being silly.

Harry shrugged and took the kerchief, tying it around his hand. "Thanks," he said. He'd ask Percy to take care of the wound in the common room. Percy was good at that sort of thing.

They got back to the common room without any further incident. Harry dashed up the stairs to the third-year dormitory to put his broom away and get his homework out. When he saw that he was alone though, he pulled out his wand a little warily. He sat down at the edge of his bed and cast the diagnostic spell on himself. His wand glowed red, and Harry's stomach dropped as he looked at his left hand and the kerchief run through with his blood.

He recast the medical charm on himself; the charm he wasn't supposed to have had to recast for a long time. Because his wand hadn't been supposed to glow red, nor orange nor yellow nor green. It was supposed to be blue. Because the medical charm that made sure his blood clotted properly wasn't supposed to run out like that, not so quickly. Not when he was flying, and especially not when he was playing quidditch. This was the seventh time he had had to recast the charm on himself since he had come back to school, not even counting the time Hermione had done so.

He had been checking himself regularly and there didn't seem to be a rhyme or reason for it. Some nights when he checked, nothing had changed, and then others it seemed that most of the spell had drained out of him somehow. Though this was the first time it had gotten all the way to red before he had had a chance to reapply the medical charm. Why was this happening? Didn't he have enough to worry about?

He didn't know what to do. He was about ready to panic. He knew he should go to Madame Pomfrey, except he couldn't tell Madame Pomfrey. Because maybe he could convince her that his dad had had Hemophilia, but she had been the school nurse back when his parents had been students. She probably knew that Snape had hemophilia, and for all he knew, she knew that Snape and his mum had been friends. What if she put it all together? Would she tell Snape?

He couldn't tell Madame Pomfrey. He couldn't ask Hermione to look into it because she would definitely go to Madame Pomfrey. The only thing he could think to do was to just recast the charm every day. Was that bad? Like taking too much of a potion? He didn't know, but bleeding to death was definitely bad, so Harry supposed that he would have to take his chances.

He looked at his hand. It had bled a fair bit for such a shallow gash, but it was stopping now. He gathered up his books with his right hand and went down to the common room to find Percy.

After a few distracted hours of homework and an abysmal game of chess with Ron, Harry found himself getting into bed not at all ready for sleep. Between thoughts of Greyback, fire, blood and everything else dredged up when he got too close to the dementors during practice, he spent what felt like half the night with troubled thoughts running through his mind. At around one o' clock in the morning, Harry found himself digging through his trunk for the letter. He needed a distraction. It was another hour before he finally fell asleep, with different thoughts running through his head.


IIIIIIIIIIIIII


Harry knocked on the professor's door.

"Do come in," he heard Professor Lupin say from the other side. Harry opened the door and walked in, being sure to leave the door open. One couldn't be too careful with the defense professor.

"Mr. Potter," Professor Lupin said genially. "What can I do for you."

"Um… sorry to bother you professor, but I was looking for some advice on defense," Harry said.

"Given that these are my office hours, and that I have invited all of my students to bring any concerns to me during them, I can't see why I should be bothered," Professor Lupin said.

"Oh, right, well, the thing is, I've been thinking that what with all that's happened lately that I should probably work more on defense. Like, the real defense stuff, for defending yourself from dark wizards and such," Harry said. "And I know that you don't really think I can handle myself, but I've gotten through a few tight scrapes before and I know I can learn more and do better. I just want a better chance if I ever see Greyback again."

By the time Harry had finished talking, Professor Lupin was looking at him like Harry had sprouted wings or something, and Harry realized that it was a lost cause. The professor would probably always see him as the boy who fainted when he got too close to a dementor; who let old ladies die at the hands of monsters. It didn't matter how well he did in class; who cared how many facts he had memorized about vampires? Some marks didn't come off.

"Right," he said red cheeked. "I should go." He didn't want to ask Hermione for help when she was already doing so much, and he supposed this was a research project he would have to handle on his own.

"Uh, before I help you with that," the professor said. "Perhaps you can tell me when I gave you the impression that I didn't think you could handle yourself."

Harry found himself a bit agitated. "Well you know, with the boggart. No one else noticed, but I certainly didn't miss being deliberately skipped for facing the thing."

The professor's mouth opened and closed a couple of times.

"I had thought it was obvious," he said.

"Well yeah, it was," Harry said. "To me anyway."

"No, Harry, I didn't think that you couldn't handle the boggart," the professor said. "I was worried about He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named popping up in the classroom."

Now it was Harry's turn to be slightly speechless. "I… really?"

"Yes really," Professor Lupin said. "Had you had something else in mind?"

"Um, I'd thought maybe Greyback… or a dementor," Harry said reluctantly. "Or who knows what. I don't think Voldemort even crossed my mind at the time."

"Well then perhaps it is still best that you did not go." Professor Lupin said. "A boggart could mimic the effects of a dementor if it took it's shape, to an extent. Greyback too, I am glad did not pop up during my class. I wasn't especially happy to have Belatrix Lestrange crash the occasion either."

"Oh," Harry said somewhat surprised. "So you didn't…I mean with the dementor on the train I wouldn't blame you if you thought…"

"Mr. Potter, I certainly wouldn't judge a person based on how they were affected by a dementor," Professor Lupin said. "And if half the stories about you are true then I have little doubt that you would easily handle some more advanced training in defense."

"Really?" Harry asked.

"Of course," Professor Lupin said. "I think it would be best if you joined the fourth-year defense study group. They mostly go over what they're learning in class, but it's also turned into a bit of an informal dueling club. They meet in the defense classroom at eight for forty-five minutes on Thursdays. I am usually there, and students are welcome to practice any defense lesson that's taught in class. In the meantime, I suggest you start reading the first three chapters of 'Practical Defense for Beginners.'"

"That sounds great," Harry said. "Uh, thanks professor."

"You're welcome Mr. Potter, now I do believe it is time for dinner," Professor Lupin said.

"Right, um, bye," Harry said as he left the professor's office. That had gone better than he had hoped. Though he was embarrassed about how things had started out.

He wasn't going to delude himself into thinking that he'd be dueling Greyback anytime soon, but at least he was doing something. He was also glad to have cleared things up with Professor Lupin. He wasn't about to start trusting the Defense Professor, but he rather thought he was going to enjoy lessons more without feeling like he had something to prove to this man who had known his parents. Though how it was all going to fit into his schedule was a bit beyond him.


IIIIIIIIIIII


"So tell me Severus," the headmaster said after sipping on his tea. "How is Mr. Potter's project coming along?"

Begrudgingly, Severus stated, "I dare say it is going better than either of us had thought it would," Severus said. "He does seem to be putting in a good deal of effort, at least."

"And how do you find yourself tolerating these sessions?" the headmaster asked.

Severus had to ponder that for a moment.

"It is not as trying as I had perhaps thought it would be," Severus said. "Though I would be much overcome with joy if he decided to cease the project henceforth."

"I have been curious to know what drew him to start a potions project," the headmaster said.

"He said it was more of an interest in wards," Severus said. "And that potions would be a better place to start until he became more proficient in runes and arithmancy." Though Severus had heard the lie in his words.

"Is he now," the headmaster said. "Well I am glad to see that the two of you can put your differences behind you. I think you'll find, Severus, that you will be much happier when you put old grudges to rest."

"Oh yes, I am brimming with joy, Headmaster," Severus said sardonically. He poured himself some more tea. "I do wish that I knew what has possessed the boy. He's definitely making an effort to… get along, he's being utterly transparent about it. He's been trying to make idle chit chat for the past couple of weeks. About potions. Last time, I swear he had a list of topics he kept sneaking looks at."

"Is it so onerous to hold a conversation with Harry?" the Headmaster asked. "Or to pass on your knowledge of potions? Perhaps next time you should bring your own list."

"Headmaster, I have to occlude just to be in the same room with him without immediately seeing his father," Severus said.

"When was the last time he was in your presence while you weren't occluding," the headmaster asked.

A pause.

"To one extent or another I have been occluding around him since the train ride," Severus said.

"Ah," was the headmasters only reply.

"It would be foolish to stop," Severus said.

"I dare say I believe you will surprise yourself," the headmaster said.

"I've spent years hating him," Severus said.

"You've spent years hating his father," the headmaster said. "Not Harry. You've admitted as much to me. You've spent the past two years taking that out on Harry."

Severus grimaced.

"Perhaps it is for the best that you learn to see him for who he is; separate from his father," the headmaster said.

"To what end?" Severus asked.

"Closure," the headmaster said.

"I do not need closure," Severus said.

"You've spent the past twelve years hating a dead man," Albus said. "Has that hatred made you happy?"

Severus didn't respond. He didn't need to.

"I have been happy, Severus," the headmaster said. "Very happy to see the changes in you these past weeks."

Severus shook his head.

"I do not deserve that happiness," Severus said. "How can you care so much for it?"

"Because someone must," was the headmasters reply.

"That is meaningless drivel," Severus said.

"Severus," the headmaster said. "Lily died protecting her son. I am certain that were she here now that she would thank you for protecting him when she could not."

"She could protect him herself where it not for me," Severus said.

"If Voldemort had never heard the prophesy, Lily and James would have never gone into hiding," the headmaster said. "There is no way of knowing how long they would have survived as high as they were on his list. You made a mistake Severus; you had no way of knowing. You've said it yourself; you didn't believe in prophesy."

"But he did," Severus said. "I didn't think, or if I did, I thought I could outsmart him."

He got up to leave.

"I put myself in that situation," he told the headmaster. "I thought I was clever, I thought I could make those decisions on my own, and she died for it."

"Severus, my boy," the Headmaster said. He had put down his tea, and he was looking at Severus with an almost pained expression. "I want you take some time tonight. Think of Lily, who she was in life. Would she want you to punish yourself like this? You did everything you could to keep them safe."

Severus opened his mouth to respond, but the headmaster held up his hand to forestall him.

"Think on it," the headmaster said.

Severus hung his head. "Goodnight headmaster," he said as he left.


IIIIIIIIIIIII


Albus watched Severus leave with a pensive look on his face. It had been an odd conversation for him. Part scripted and part not. It had been over a decade since he had had a conversation with anyone but Amelia without knowing which ways the conversation could lead ahead of time, but things were off track, and he needed to know by exactly how much.

He was no closer to truly knowing what had inspired Harry to take on the potions project, though he was fairly certain it had more to do with Severus than potions in general. Not knowing was particularly distressing, for without knowing what had caused the change, how could he predict what else it might change?

Other areas were going well. He had been aiming towards a variant where Severus and Harry got along and could work together towards a common goal. It was one of the best variants in terms of positive outcomes with fewer possible pitfalls. In most variants, Severus was essential to victory. He had seen many different outcomes where Harry and Severus were concerned. In most, they hated each other to their dying days. In some variants, Severus had become a mentor to Harry, particularly in those possible worlds where Harry had been sorted into Slytherin. He had even seen an odd variant where Severus had adopted Harry. Albus would have been tempted to aim towards it, were the odds of a good outcome not worse than a coin toss.

It seemed clear that Harry and Severus were heading towards a path where they got along, or at least tolerated each other, and Albus had tried to strengthen that during his conversation as he tried to get more clues out of Severus which would indicate where things had gone wrong. Yet more and more, he was concerned that his task would be less like the following of a script and more like trying to guide a river. He still knew what must happen to defeat Voldemort. He knew what gave better odds, and he was very good at cheating the odds. Yet without his roadmap he felt lost.

In the end, though, he still knew what he had to do. He would give Harry the best chance to defeat Voldemort. If he had to change tactics then he would change tactics, but there was no reason to abandon the path. No reason to chart a new course. He could still make everything work. It would just take more planning and maneuvering.


IIIIIIIIIIIII


"Stupefy!"

A red light flashed, and a student fell to the ground. Harry stopped in the doorway of the defense classroom and watched as a boy he recognized from the Gryffindor common room went to check on his classmate, whom he had just attacked. The boy muttered a spell, pointing his wand at the fallen student, who had collapsed on a pile of cushions. She seemed to awaken very suddenly, and was helped up by the Gryffindor boy.

"Right," said the girl that Harry could now see was a Ravenclaw, though he didn't recognize her at all. "That was three times in a row you did it right, now it's my turn."

"You mastered it last week," the boy said.

"You can't just learn a spell and then never use it again," the girl said. "You need to practice."

"Oh, all right," the boy said as he took his place among the pile of cushions.

"Stupefy," the girl cast. Red spell light hit the boy and he collapsed to the floor on top of the cushions. The girl quickly woke him up. Harry wondered why they insisted on standing while someone knocked them out, the boy looked like he had landed on his shoulder funny. Shaking his head, Harry decided he had stood in the doorway long enough.

"Hi," he said, walking into the classroom.

"Hello," said the girl. "Professor Lupin said you would be joining us."

"Is this it then?" Harry asked. He wasn't exactly on time, and he had thought that 'study group' implied more than two students taking turns cursing each other in an empty classroom.

"Oh there's about twenty of us," said the boy. "Most everyone's also in the charms study group which usually runs late. We never start on time. I'm Benjamin, by the way."

"Anna," said the girl.

"I'm Harry," Harry said needlessly.

"So what brings you to our study group?" Anna asked.

"Just wanted to become better at defense," Harry said. "That spell you just did seems useful. Does it just knock someone out?"

"Pretty much," said Benjamin. "Leaves them more or less unharmed." He started rubbing his shoulder.

"Actually," Anna said. "Getting hit again when you've already been stunned is kind of bad for you. But if you're looking to stop someone without really hurting them it's about the best spell for it. Aurors use it a lot."

"Cool," Harry said as the door to the classroom opened and a small gaggle of fourth years walked in.

Introductions were made and they moved towards the back of the classroom where desks were moved around to accommodate the group. He wound up sitting next to Anna, who was sitting very closely to Benjamin. There were a lot of questions aimed at Harry about why he was joining their group, but a student whose name Harry had forgotten quickly got everyone focused on studying.

Professor Lupin arrived a little late. He helped the students here and there, but the session was largely student run. They reviewed a number of spells that Harry had only read about, and he was glad for the different explanations and demonstrations. After about half an hour of this, they stopped reviewing and most everyone got up.

"This is when we practice everything," Anna said to him. "The study session's pretty much over, this is just informal practical work."

Harry saw two students in one corner of the now much larger front of the classroom throwing jinxes at one another while another area had several students practicing deflecting hexes. Benjamin, he saw, was no longer sitting very closely to Anna, but was in front on a now padded area and seemed to be fighting another boy with no magic at all.

"What are they doing?" Harry asked.

Anna looked over at the two boys.

"Oh, they both took karate before they got their letters and they like to play at it sometimes," she said with a shrug. She seemed amused by it.

Harry thought it looked funny, since they were both obviously trying not to actually hit the other.

"Did you want to work on anything?" Anna asked.

"I figure if there were only one thing I learn here, it should be the stunning charm," Harry said.

"Well hopefully you'll learn a lot more than that," Anna said. They went up to the front of the classroom and Anna helped Harry with the charm for a while. It didn't take Harry long to learn the wand movements or the annunciation of the incantation. Harry noticed Professor Lupin moving among the students for a while, giving pointers, but he left after five or ten minutes.

"Do you want me to stun you before you try?" Anna asked. "So you know what it's like?"

Harry didn't want to be stunned at all, but he supposed he should.

He went and sat down on the pile of cushions and from the look on Anna's face, Harry could tell that he was the first person she had ever seen to think that it would be best to not be standing before passing out.

"Stupefy," Anna incanted.

Harry's vision was filled with the red glow of the charm as it raced towards him and he found himself shutting his eyes before he opened them with a jolt. He was lying on the floor, and Anna was standing over him with her wand pointed at him.

"Weird, isn't it?" she asked.

"I was out?" he asked.

"Like a candle," she said.

"Weird," he said, standing up.

He switched places with Anna, who took care to sit down among the cushions. He didn't make much progress before the study session wound down. His incantation was perfect, he thought, he was doing everything right, except, it wasn't working.

"How are you doing?" Benjamin asked, coming up. He, Harry had noticed prior, had moved on from muggle fighting to magical dueling. Now though, he, and most everyone else looked ready to go.

"I'm not even dazed," Anna said.

"Sorry I took all your time," Harry said sheepishly.

Anna waved his comment aside. "I've been reviewing in my head."

"Try on me," Benjamin said, quickly switching places with Anna. He too seemed to quickly grasp the benefit of sitting on the floor. Harry wasn't sure why he thought that switching people would be a benefit, unless Anna was especially resistant to the stunning spell and hadn't mentioned. No reason not to try though.

"Stupefy," he said. A red flash erupted from his wand, and Benjamin passed out. Still though, Harry wasn't sure.

"Did that really work?" he asked. "Or are you just trying to make me think it worked to boost my confidence?"

Benjamin didn't say anything. Anna poked him in the ribs.

"He's out," she said.

"Right," Harry said, a bit perplexed. "Wait, what's the spell to wake him up."

"Enervate," Anna said, with her wand pointed at Benjamin. "Get on up Benjie." She turned to Harry. "I'll make sure you know that one next week."

"Why'd that work?" Harry asked.

"Intent matters," Benjamin said.

"What?" Harry asked.

"He means that you should leave chivalry behind in the muggle world," Anna said with an amused look.

"What?" Harry repeated.

"It didn't work right because you didn't want to stupefy a girl," Benjamin said.

"See you next week Harry," Anna said.

"Bye," Harry said, his face flushed red.

Benjamin gave him a wave, and it seemed that he had different thoughts on chivalry from Anna because he left to walk her back to Ravenclaw tower while Harry walked back to Gryffindor alone.


IIIIIIIIIIII


The weekend had been filled with much more quidditch than Harry had really had time for. Of course, then Monday saw him receiving homework from five different subjects. Still, as he walked down to the potions lab, he reflected that he had come to appreciate lab time down in the dungeons. He wouldn't say that it was fun, but he definitely appreciated the hour or so in the relative solitude of the potions lab while he worked on the complex yet simple tasks involved in brewing a potion. If not for his fairly awkward attempts to engage Professor Snape in conversation, Harry would have said that he could almost unwind during the time.

He stopped outside the door to the potions lab and checked to make sure he had his list; the few things he had decided to talk to Professor Snape about that evening. Two of them had nothing to do with potions, which he was a little nervous about. He walked into the potions lab and noticed right away that there was something different. Snape was looking at him oddly; like he was waiting for something.

"Good evening professor," Harry said, unsure of what he was supposed to say.

There was a pause.

"Good evening," Professor Snape said, before turning to whatever work he had before him.

Well that had been odd. Harry set up his workstation as he mulled over the bizarre normalcy of the exchange that had just occurred. It wasn't until he had set up his workstation that he had really realized what had seemed off when he had walked into the classroom: Professor Snape hadn't worn that blank look he had adopted since the start of term. He had almost looked apprehensive for a moment. Though that was a word that Harry couldn't really attribute to Professor Snape.

Harry had been nervous to start bringing up his talking points, or rather, more nervous than he normally was, but he did. They had a short discussion about the use of chocolate in potions, and stardust too; both, it seemed, could be used to make the most marvelous of potions, and the most terrible of poisons. They talked about dragon's blood and fairy fangs for a bit. However, he was especially nervous to bring up the next topic, as he removed the flame from his simmering potion, for the next topic had little to do with potions, though it tied in. Harry was worried that whatever bewitchment that had the two of them tolerating each other would break the moment he deviated from Professor Snape's area of interest.

"Do you like to cook at all?" Harry asked. "Only, it seems like potions without magic." Or frog guts.

He supposed it didn't really count if he tied it back into potions. He about held his breath waiting for a response.

Professor Snape answered him with only a moment's pause.

"I suppose it never seemed a practical skill to acquire," Professor Snape said. "I've always kept things simple when I've fared for myself."

Harry refrained from sighing. It wasn't a total bust; the spell hadn't broken; the man hadn't started sneering at him again for suggesting that he might do something as mundane as cooking. He had sort of been hoping that Snape was a secret master chef or something though. Maybe he was, but he was keeping it a secret. He probably wouldn't want to ruin his reputation.

"Do you?" Professor Snape asked, surprising Harry.

"I used to," Harry said, though he hadn't expected the question to be turned around on him. "It was fun for a while. I was doing something useful and it felt like I was being grown up. But I guess it sort of became repetitive after a while. I never got to try fun things. Potions though, there's always something new." He'd sort of thought he'd get to eat more when Aunt Petunia had had him start cooking breakfast for the household. He had quickly been disabused of that notion.

"Variety is the spice of life," Professor Snape said dryly. The Duresleys had never been up for much variety.

"Well variety isn't going to help with this potion," Harry said as he added exactly 129 poppy seeds to the brew. "It's very particular."

"The Widow's Shield is a very difficult and timely potion to brew. Curious that you chose it over other, easier potions," Professor Snape said, and here there was calculation in his eyes as he looked over at Harry.

"I like a challenge," Harry said evasively.

"Hmm," was Professor Snape's only response as he turned back to his own work.

They worked in silence for a while longer. Harry was almost giddy, though he made sure to pay close attention to what he was doing. That hadn't just been civil discourse, that had been a normal conversation. Harry waited a bit, but he was very excited to use the last topic on his list, wizard chess. It turned out to be the longest conversation he thought he had ever had with Professor Snape; Harry even tied in Ron's project. Though the conversation eventually ended with another long bout of silence, it was not the awkward sort, and the conversation had worked out. Harry was starting to see that, when he wasn't trying to intimidate everyone around him into silence, Professor Snape actually was pleasant to talk to. He felt like he was starting to see some sort of sign of the person who his mother had cared for.

Fifteen steps later, and Harry had come to a stopping point. With luck, he would be able to finish the potion during the next session. Then he could start experimenting with it.

Harry was packing up when Professor Snape surprised him by starting a conversation himself.

"It is less than two weeks until the first quidditch match," Professor Snape observed.

"Gryffindor versus Slytherin," Harry said with a nod. "Same line-up as last year, too. Though, hopefully there won't be any house-elf-controlled bludgers trying to knock me off my broom this time."

"That was a house elf?" Professor Snape asked incredulously.

"Yeah," Harry said nonchalantly. "A crazy house elf named Dobby, spent a good bit of time last year trying to convince me to leave Hogwarts for my own safety."

"With a bludger?" Severus said, his tone still laced with incredulity.

"Crazy," Harry said. "He was the Malfoy's, he knew about the basilisk and was convinced he had to keep me away from it. Got me into trouble over the summer with my relatives and he blocked up Kings Cross at the start of term."

"If the house elf was crazy," Professor Snape said wryly, "what were you when you decided that the best solution to missing the train at Kings Cross was to fly to Hogwarts in an enchanted muggle automobile?"

Harry hadn't meant to drag the conversation into reminding Professor Snape of one of his stupider decisions.

"Twelve," Harry said. "And grateful in the end that I had chosen Gryffindor, since Professor McGonagall was less inclined to expel us."

"You chose Gryffindor Mr. Potter?" Professor Snape said. "I was not aware that we gave students that choice."

"Well the hat sort of indicated I could fit into any house," Harry said.

"And you chose Gryffindor," Professor Snape mused.

"Well, I didn't so much choose Gryffindor as I said…" Harry paused when he realized what he was about to say. "That is, I, um…" He had really stepped in it; and now everything was ruined.

Snape had one eyebrow raised inquisitively and knowingly though, and Harry was relieved to see that there was no sneer on his face.

"Yes Mr. Potter," Professor Snape said. "Do tell."

Words tumbled out of Harry's mouth as he tried to explain in such a way as to not offend the head of Slytherin House.

"Well I had met Ron on the train and we sort of became friends right away and he said that his whole family was in Gryffindor and that's where he wanted to go too, see?" Harry said quickly. "And then I met Malfoy, and he told me to ditch Ron and be his friend instead and he'd said Slytherin was the only place for him, and that all really put me off. And I'd heard my parents had been in Gryffindor and well, some other stuff about Slytherin, and I guess I didn't want to take any chances, since it didn’t seem like Gryffindors and Slytherins got along."

"So you told it anywhere but Slytherin," Professor Snape finished the story.

Harry shrugged, trying to gauge however much he had put off Professor Snape.

"Imagine if you had been in Slytherin," Professor Snape said, though Harry had the idea that he was speaking more to himself.

"It got pretty pushy afterwards," said Harry, a bit more boldly, realizing that the man hadn't taken offense. "Told me Slytherin would help me on the way to greatness, and that just sounded weird so I was just like, 'not Slytherin, not Slytherin.'"

"You never asked to be placed in Gryffindor?" Professor Snape asked.

Harry shrugged. "I guess I'd never felt all that brave before. I suppose I'd wanted to feel brave, but I didn't feel like I really belonged. I was worried at first that I wouldn't live up to the standards, but, well, that sort of took care of itself I guess."

"Yes," Professor Snape said. "Chasing after a mountain troll."

This time there was a bit of a sneer, though it did not seem cruel.

"Would you have let me onto the quidditch team in first year if I had been in Slytherin?" he asked.

"Most assuredly not," Professor Snape said. "Second years shouldn't even be playing in matches."

"Would you have expelled me last year if I had been in Slytherin?" Harry asked.

Snape opened his mouth, most likely to say that he most assuredly would have, but he closed it before saying, "Why Mr. Potter, if you had been in Slytherin, I can assure you, you would have never thought it a good idea to fly to Hogwarts."

"I suppose it's a moot point, but you can think on it when Gryffindor beats Slytherin," he said cheekily, while still trying to gauge if he was taking things too far.

"I would not count your chickens before they've hatched, Mr. Potter," Professor Snape said with a half-smile. The conversation was over.

Harry finished cleaning up and packed up his supplies.

"Good night Professor," he said on his way out.

"Good night Mr. Potter," Professor Snape said. "Do try not to slay any monsters on your way to your dorm."

"Well I'll try professor, but I can't make any promises," was Harry's reply before he closed the door behind him.

That, Harry thought, had to have been the weirdest evening of his entire life. And considering his three previous birthdays, that was saying something. The weirdest thing was, though, that it had felt normal. It had been a normal conversation. With Professor Snape. Had that been a joke between them at the end? It couldn't have been, because that wouldn't make any sense. Perhaps he was currently dreaming.

'It's working,' Harry thought to himself. They were getting along very well, or so it seemed. With that thought though, Harry stopped.

Since when had getting along with Snape been the goal? Since when had having a nice conversation with him become what he wanted. He'd just wanted to know more about the man who had sired him, whom his mother had loved. None of that translated into wanting to let bygones be bygones and become friends with the man. He started walking again.

Harry did manage to not slay any monsters before he got to his dorm, though he did get a couple of dirty looks from Slytherins walking the dungeons. He spent the time walking from two polar opposite points in the castle thinking mostly about Professor Snape. He thought about the man who he had known during his first two years at the school and about the stranger who had taken his place this one. He thought about the gross amount of time the man had spent watching over him. Though more and more, he thought about his mother, and one particular thing she had said concerning Professor Snape in the letter, something she had wanted. There was a conversation he was starting to feel like he should be having with the man that he couldn't possibly broach without reveling things he was still adamant he would never tell him.


IIIIIIIIIIII


"You alright mate?" Ron asked while the three of them were studying in the library. "You've been distracted."

"Oh I'm fine," Harry said. "It's just…" he looked around. "I realized last night that I have no idea what I want with this whole thing with Professor Snape."

"Well you said as much from the beginning," Hermione said, her head tilted towards Harry but her eyes still scanning the pages of her book.

"No," Harry said. "I mean, I know I never really knew what I was looking to get out of it, besides just figuring out what my mom had seen in him, or what parts of him are in me. I didn't know what I was looking for exactly or why I needed it in the first place, but last night it was…different.

"I enjoyed last night," he said, almost like it was a dirty secret that he was confessing. "I mean, I enjoyed talking to him, and I enjoyed working on my potion with him, and when I left it was like I was looking forward to the next time, and I was happy. I was happy that everything was going well with him and that's when I realized… It's like somewhere along the way something hijacked the mission and decided that I was trying to make friends with Professor Snape. It's like something's shifted and now I don't know what I want anymore at all. I mean, it's ridiculous."

Harry noticed that he now had his friends’ full attention.

"So you're saying you like him and you're not sure if you want to get close to him or not?" Hermione asked.

"No," Harry said. "I don't like him. I mean, how could I? I hate him."

Even to his own ears he heard a great deal of uncertainty.

"I'm not sure how you could like talking to him so much if you hate him," Ron said.

"I just don't get it," Harry said. "I'm supposed to hate him, right?"

He looked to Ron for confirmation.

"I mean he broke my mum's heart and spent two years trying to make me miserable here at Hogwarts," he said.

"It's complicated with family," was Ron's shrugging reply.

"But he's not family," Harry said. "He's… I don't know what he is, but he's not family."

"But he's been nice to you?" Hermione asked.

"I don't know about nice," Harry hedged.

"He hasn't been mean and you've been having pleasant conversations that you enjoy and look forward to," Hermione said. "At least for Professor Snape, he's being nice. I think you need to reconsider telling him."

"Reconsider…" Harry said stunned. "Hermione just because he's been 'nice' to me doesn't mean I want him to be my dad, and it certainly doesn't mean I would trust him not to abuse the position somehow. I can't tell him."

"Harry, they're no closer to catching any of those Death Eaters and you really need somewhere safe to stay over the summer," Hermione said. "My house isn't warded. There's a good chance you won't be allowed to stay at Ron's if they're still on the loose. You need somewhere to stay, and you need a better plan than 'I'll figure it out'."

"What if he's horrible?" Harry asked. "What if he's worse than the Dursleys?"

"Well he hasn't been horrible while you've worked on your potions project," Hermione said. "And you said yourself that he didn't want you doing it in the first place, so he had every reason to try to get you to quit, but he didn't. He's also saved your life which already puts him ahead of the Dursleys in terms of taking care of you. You need to think about this Harry, and the sooner the better. You don't want to wait till the end of term. Think of it like a test run. You can have him know now while you're in school and living in the dorm, and if he's horrible, well you can run away come summer and I'll help you to boot. But Harry, for whatever reason, he seems to be getting along with you right now, so I don't think he's going to stop just because he finds out he's your father. It could make everything better."

"I just can't," Harry said, mulling it over. "Not unless…"

"Unless what?" Ron asked.

"Nothing," Harry said. "I mean maybe if… It's nothing. Have you found an explanation for Kent's theory in there?" he asked Ron, changing the subject and clearly ending the conversation.

"Just think about it, Harry," Hermione said.

Harry started turning the pages of the book in front of him.


IIIIIIIIIIIII


He watched them flying about. Like birds they were. He watched one bird in particular; flying the fastest, making the tightest turns. A bird that could take off just before the jaws snapped shut. He watched until they all landed. He watched as they disappeared into a building only to leave in smaller groups. He watched the boy as he walked back up to the castle. He could take him now. None of those students could match him. He could take the boy, but getting him past the wards was another matter. The tunnel was on the other side of the grounds. Portkeys were useless unless they were made by the headmaster. He couldn't fly for the life of him, and carrying the boy past the wards would be too risky for how long it would take.

Fenrir Greyback growled as the boy returned to the shelter of the castle. He could be patient. He had a plan. The rat just had to do his part first.