Magic hummed all around him as he walked into the room. Magic that sung of secrets long lost and of powers he would never know. The Department of Mysteries was aptly named and in spite of what had brought him there, Albus could almost long for a different life where he had lost himself in the study of such things.

“Are you sure about this, Headmaster?” Madam Bones asked.

It was long after hours, and it was only the two of them gazing upon one of the most closely guarded relics hoarded by the Ministry.

“I am sure that I must do this,” Albus said.

“I cannot, of course, be certain that it will work.”

“That it will work?” Madam Bones asked. “You mean you cannot be certain that you’ll survive.”

“Countless others have faced worse odds in the fight against Voldemort,” Albus said.

“We need you alive,” Madam Bones said.

“It is not I mentioned in the Prophesy,” Albus said. “The one who will destroy Voldemort was only just born. He will have to survive for some time before he can fulfill the prophesy, and there is all the more chance that it is he that will die at Voldemort’s hands. He is already being hunted. There is too much uncertainty.”

“The Pillars weren’t meant for this,” Madame Bones said.

Albus turned towards the Pillars, through which he was about to step. The ancient magical construct held the answers.

“We need this clarity,” he said, striding forward. “If this goes well, we will have a path forward. Perhaps I can see some way where we can hold Voldemort off long enough for this boy to win. Even if he survives long enough, there’s no telling what state the world will be in when he is ready to fulfill his role in the Prophesy.”

Albus walked through the pillars and learned what there was for him to learn.

-

Being a wizard who wasn't allowed to do magic, Harry thought, must be like being a fighter pilot who'd been grounded.

Considering his racing broomstick locked up in the cupboard under the stairs, along with most of his other magical items, Harry felt he had a very good idea how a grounded fighter pilot felt.

Harry was a wizard: he performed spells with a wand, flew high up in the sky at dangerous speeds on a broomstick, brewed potions in a cauldron, and occasionally went on adventures with his best friends. He even went to school in a magic castle, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

Unfortunately, having only had two years of magical training under his belt, he was relegated to being about as magicless as his muggle relatives, the Dursleys.

Over the summer holidays, the Decree for the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery dictated that he wasn't to perform any magic whatsoever.

The Dursleys were the family that Harry had lived with since he had been an infant and his parents had been killed. However, the Dursleys had never treated Harry like he was a child in their care, much less like he was family.

The Dursleys had an obsession with being normal, especially with being perceived by their neighbors as being normal.

The problem was that they had an extreme intolerance of anything they perceived to be abnormal.

Thus magic, and by extension their wizard nephew Harry, was likely at the top of the list of things they considered to be unwelcome in their house.

Why his Aunt Petunia and his Uncle Vernon hadn't sent Harry off into the foster system the moment he had been left on their doorstep, Harry didn't know.

There were certainly times he wished that they had.

At the moment, Harry was lying on his bed in his bedroom, or rather Dudley's second bedroom, which Harry had been moved into when his first Hogwarts acceptance letter had arrived when he was soon to be eleven.

Prior to that, the cupboard under the stairs had been his bedroom, and it was days such as the one he was dealing with at the time that made him sort of almost wish he could still fit down there.

At the very least, it kept him out of the way.

It was a rainy day and Harry had decided to stay inside with a book.

Not one of his magic books of course.

As far as the Durselys knew, all of those were locked up in the cupboard. Harry, however, had several of his schoolbooks under the loose floorboard next to his bed.

It had been a risk, picking the lock on the cupboard and sneaking them out, but he had summer homework to do, and didn't feel like telling his professors that he hadn't done it because his relatives hated magic.

Not that they'd been able to tell that a few books were missing, it was his wand that his uncle checked for regularly, to make sure it was still locked up in the cupboard.

The book that he was reading was an old worn book that he had pulled out of the grab bin at the library. It wasn't the peak of literature, but it kept him from going stir crazy on a rainy day with nothing else to do.

Unfortunately, at that moment, his cousin Dudley also felt that he had nothing to do while stuck inside on a rainy day.

This was quite untrue though, Dudley had just about every toy imaginable, several computer games, and a host of books that he had never read sitting in his room.

Yet for the boy who had everything, it seemed, there was only one form of entertainment that never seemed to grow old.

"Hey Potter," he said in the same manner his mother occasionally said the word freak.

"Hmm?" Harry said, not looking up from his book.

"Let's play a game Potter," he said.

"Come on, it'll be fun."

"Fun for you, I'm sure," Harry said. Dudley's games didn't really allow for fun for all. Harry continued to keep his face in his book, as though he wasn't concerned that his very large cousin was standing in his doorway. "What did you have in mind? Harry hunting, smash the ponce, cops and robbers, or have you come up with another excuse to rough me up?" Harry wasn't a little kid, he'd faced down a dark wizard, slew a basilisk, and saved his best friend's sister's life.

He knew he was in a precarious position at the moment, but he thought he should be well past putting up with Dudley's horrid games.

"Well if you'd rather just skip to the end..." Dudley hefted his meaty fist nonchalantly.

"The end where you wind up with another pig tail, you mean?" Harry asked.

"Or maybe it's donkey ears this time." Dudley's hands flew to his backside for a moment before he regained his composure.

With a smirk he said, "You can't, Dad locked up your wand, he checks for it now and then, you can't do anything."

"Didn't stop me that time at the zoo, or any of the other times I didn't have it. We can do magic without, you know. The wand just makes it easier. No, I shouldn't have any trouble dealing with you." He was pretty sure that Dudley shouldn’t be able to tell that his heart was pounding in his chest.

Dudley hesitated a moment before, "Then what? you'll be expelled. You can't do that stuff out of school. That letter said so."

"That was last year's warning," Harry said. "If I'd done magic again then, sure, I'd have been in some trouble. But this is a new summer. I've still got one warning this summer."

"You're bluffing," Dudley said.

Harry was bluffing, he really didn't know what would happen if he did any magic, and he certainly couldn't be certain of any accidental magic if he needed it. It had been hit and mostly miss when he was younger.

"You willing to risk a rat's nose to find out?" Harry asked, swallowing the lump in his throat.

"Dad'd beat the shite out of you. There's still a bunch of time till you go back to school."

"It'd be worth it though," Harry said lightly, his face still in his book, as though he was enjoying the prospect of seeing Dudley with a rat's nose and that his uncle's anger wasn't that much of a concern for him.

"Prove it then," Dudley challenged.

"What?" Harry asked.

"You want me to waste my freebie? With most of the summer still ahead of me? No, I'll hold on to it for now, unless I need it."

"You're so full of shite Potter," Dudley said it angrily, but Harry could hear a bit of fear in his voice.

"No, I'm not," Harry said, feeling a bit bolder now that Dudley seemed to be buying it. "But you know what else I'm not full of, not anymore." Harry turned finally to face Dudley. "Fear, I'm not afraid of you anymore, not like you're afraid of magic. So why don't you get out of my room, and close the door on your way out. I'm not playing any of your stupid games."

"I'm not afraid of your stupid magic," Dudley said, clearly more angry now, and with a menacing step forward Dudley said, "I've got a good game in mind though."

"No..." Dudley's least favorite word to hear was about as far as he got before Dudley crossed the room. Harry tried to scramble up from his position on the bed, but Dudley shoved him down.

Suddenly Dudley was on top of him, and Harry was vividly reminded of when they had been younger, and Dudley would pin him down and pummel him.

Dudley didn't even bother to pin his arms, as scrawny as Harry was, there was very little he could do against Dudley's massive frame.

Dudley punched him in the nose.

"Ouch, you stupid..."

Dudley's hand clamped down over his mouth.

"I'm not stupid," Dudley said fiercely.

"You're stupid. Stupid stupid stupid. Poor pathetic Potter's stupider than a sack of shite. You know what Potter? You talk too much. I wouldn't want you to say anything else so stupid." The pillow under Harry's head was ripped away, and then it was over his face.

Harry had trouble breathing and suddenly he felt a panic inside his chest.

Harry's arms started flailing about wildly and largely ineffectively while Dudley's free hand started digging its knuckles in between Harry's ribs.

He was suffocating; he couldn't breathe.

He tried to turn his head to the side so that he could gasp a breath but it felt like he was pinned in place, like someone had their hand on the back of his head forcing his face into the scratchy surface of the pillow.

He couldn't breath through his nose, which was currently clogged with blood and snot, and as he gasped for breath through his mouth, it felt like the material of the pillow filled his jaws.

Merlin, he was going to suffocate to death.

His own cousin was killing him.

He started to feel faint.

Suddenly the pillow was ripped off of his face.

"Just say it, I dare you," his cousin was saying through clenched teeth. "Just say I'm stupid one more time. See what happens."

Harry gasped in a breath, his vision going from dark to red.

He was furious with his cousin, more furious than he felt he had ever been before, he wanted to scream and yell at him and tell him exactly how stupid he was, but in the moment, no words came out, his voice lost to him.

Furious with himself now, he lashed out in about the only way he could see how.

He spit in Dudley's face.

Dudley quickly returned the gesture and punched Harry in the short ribs. He wiped the saliva off his own face and then started smearing it, along with his own, over Harry's face, spit mixing with blood from Harry's nose.

Harry was still gasping for breath.

Then Dudley's hand was clamped down over his face, and with his one uncovered eye, Harry could see Dudley's face hovering over his.

His cousin gathered some phlegm from his throat and let it slowly creep out of his mouth.

A line of spit getting closer and closer to Harry's eye.

Harry tried to squirm out of the way, but he couldn't budge.

Harry started to panic again as the disgusting contents of his cousin’s throat inched down towards his eye.

Suddenly though, it felt like his cousin wasn't on top of him anymore, though he could see him still hovering over his face, Dudley now had a look of bewildered panic on his face.

And Harry could see with both eyes now, Dudley's hand wasn't on his face anymore, though now it looked like Dudley's forearm was coming straight out of Harry's face.

An instant after Harry noticed all of this, he realized that he felt like he was falling.

His vision went black momentarily and then he landed with a thud on the floor under his bed.

His cousin gave a shout of alarm.

Harry didn't even think twice before rolling out from under the bed and making a dash for the door.

Racing downstairs, he suddenly thought that it wouldn't be so bad to spend the afternoon in the rain.

"What's all this ruckus," his uncle said, stepping out of the kitchen.

Harry could hear Dudley's thundering footsteps behind him.

"Dad, dad. Harry did you know what on me," Dudley cried out, and Harry's heart plummeted into his stomach.

His uncle gave a roar as Harry tried to squeeze past him for the front door.

He had been quite good at this when he was younger. Yet as he had grown older, though he hadn't grown that much, it had become harder to slip through his uncle's grasp.

"What did you do to my son," his uncle roared, pushing Harry against the wall.

"Nothing," Harry said.

He was the one with blood all over his face.

"I didn't do anything to him, I swear."

His uncle smacked him in the face. "Don't you lie to me boy, now what did you do."

"It was an accident," Harry said.

"It didn't even do anything to him, look at him, he's fine."

Uncle Vernon looked Dudley over with a critical eye but seeing that nothing seemed to be wrong with him, he turned his thunderous gaze back towards Harry.

"First that bloody phone call from one of your freak friends, now you're using your unnaturalness under my roof on my son. Up to your room boy, now, I'll deal with you in a minute."

He let Harry go and pushed him in the direction of the stairs. Harry trudged up, passed a triumphant looking Dudley, and then walked into his room.

He could hear his Uncle checking on Dudley, and Dudley giving some sob story.

Then he heard what he had been dreading, the sound of his Uncle coming up the stairs to his room. He'd managed to avoid this for most of the summer by staying mostly under the radar.

About ten minutes later an owl arrived from the ministry.

This of course just renewed his uncle’s anger.

Harry didn't get to read it for a while, and after he got over the fact that he wasn't being expelled, Harry became quite embarrassed over the overall tone of the letter.

The Improper Use of Magic Office had basically written to say that they had detected anomalous magic and admonished him that a boy his age should have better control over accidental magic.

Harry rather thought that, living with the Dursleys, it was a wonder he didn't lose control more often. All in all, Harry figured that it was probably the worst day of summer so far, and hopefully the rest of summer too.

Yet as Harry settled in to sleep that night, sore from earlier and generally angry at life the universe and everything, he found he couldn't hold on to his misery as a feeling of peace suffused him and he felt oddly content as he drifted off to sleep.

It was a few days before Harry was allowed out of his room for anything besides chores, but once out, the fairer weather saw Harry wandering the streets of Little Whinging.

Luckily, he didn't have to worry about the neighbors seeing any bruises from the events of the days prior.

He had never bruised easily, something Dudley had taken full advantage of growing up, and the few small bruises he had had had already faded by the time he'd been allowed outside again.

The summer had been grinding along very slowly, but though it had seemed like ages, Harry's birthday was almost upon him.

Tomorrow he would be thirteen.

His birthday of course had never really been a cause for celebration, but as he worked on his homework after his relatives had gone to sleep, Harry found himself repeatedly looking at his clock as it wound its way towards midnight.

After a while, Harry put his homework away, under the loose floorboard by his bed and just waited.

Harry wished Hedwig wasn't off flying; in two minutes the clock would strike midnight and he would be thirteen.

He rather wished he had some company, though at least Hedwig wasn't locked up in her cage and he could keep in contact with his friends, unlike last summer.

Still though, she had been gone for a few days and Harry rather missed having company at Privet Drive that didn't glare at him.

Harry glanced back at the clock; only one minute to go.

He looked out of his open window and did a double take.

Silhouetted against the moon was a bizarre looking creature that looked to be flying right towards his window.

A moment later, Harry saw that it wasn't one creature but four, four owls flying towards Harry's window.

Harry recognized Hedwig, his large snowy owl, who his friend Hagrid had given him for his eleventh birthday. She was carrying a small package bound in twine that she clenched in her talons.

Also in the cluster of owls was Errol, the Weasley family’s owl. Errol was a very old owl, and he looked to be having trouble with the package he was carrying, Hedwig and a small brown barn owl carrying an envelope looked to be helping the disheveled looking owl to carry its package.

The last owl, flying just below the other three, was a big tawny owl; it was carrying a largish parcel with an envelope on top.

Harry went to the window and opened it all the way.

The lone owl swooped through and dropped its delivery on Harry's bed.

The three tandem owls stopped at the windowsill and Harry quickly relieved poor Errol of his package before taking the exhausted owl to Hedwig's cage where he could drink some water.

The brown barn owl left its large envelope on Harry's desk and flew out the window without taking a moment to rest.

Harry turned and greeted Hedwig, who preened under his attention as he took the package from her talons and offered her his other arm to latch on to.

Harry grabbed the package that Errol had brought and walked over to his bed, happily chatting with Hedwig, who was affectionately nipping at his shoulder. Harry set Hedwig to perch on his bedpost as he picked open the package that Errol had brought.

Inside he found a letter, a newspaper clipping, and an odd crystal with a scrap of paper rolled around it.

Harry turned the clipping over after seeing a partial article about stellar alignment and was rather surprised to see the entire Weasley clan in the photograph standing in front of a pyramid and waving enthusiastically towards Harry.

Harry read the accompanying article.

'Ministry of Magic Employee Scoops Grand Prize,' read the article title.

It looked like Arthur Weasley, Ron's father, had won a drawing at the Daily Prophet. The family was vacationing in Egypt where Ron's brother Bill worked as a curse breaker.

Harry grinned broadly, the Weasleys were the best family he knew; the summer prior they had taken him into their home, saving Harry from a full summer with the Dursleys.

They were also, however, very poor and Harry couldn't think of anyone else who more deserved to win such a prize.

Harry turned his attention to the letter, which was from his best friend, Ron Weasley.

Ron, it seemed, was having a great time in Egypt. His brother Bill was giving them tours of all the ancient tombs in the area. He would be getting a new wand as well.

Harry rather wished he was in Egypt with his best friend at the moment.

Harry unrolled the paper from around the crystal and saw that Ron had sent him a Sneakoscope, a magical device that would let him know when someone untrustworthy was around. Harry grinned as he picked up the Sneakoscope and placed it on his nightstand.

Next Harry turned his attention to the package that Hedwig had brought him, on top was a letter from Hermione, his other best friend Hermione, it turned out, was in France with her parents and seemed to be enjoying herself a great deal.

She too asked if he would meet up in London in the week before term.

Harry didn't know what he would tell them. He wasn't even sure how he would be getting to the Hogwarts Express that year.

The Dursleys had been less tolerant of him this summer than they had started out the summer before. Though it was still better than the end of his stay with them last summer when he had been locked in his room with bars on his window.

Harry smiled at Hermione's letter and then eagerly eyed the parchment around his present, though he was sure that Hermione had just sent him a book judging by the shape and weight of the package.

Harry dug some owl treats out of his nightstand and gave them to Hedwig.

"What a strong girl you are, carrying this all the way from the continent, and in time for my birthday too." Hedwig looked proud under his attention and Harry started tearing at the parchment.

When he opened the package, however, he was very pleasantly surprised to see that it was not a large book, but a broom servicing kit. Harry wished that he had snuck his broom out of the cupboard under the stairs as well.

He missed flying almost as much as he missed his friends during the summer.

Harry turned to the last package. On top was an envelope bearing the Hogwarts crest. Harry saw that the package was from Hagrid.

Untying the package and unwrapping the paper, Harry was very surprised when whatever was inside opened up and then snapped shut before it slid off of his bed with a thud and darted under.

Harry's heart seemed to stop for a moment as he stopped to listen for any signs that his relatives had awoken.

As moments passed though, the only sounds he heard was a snoring from his cousin’s room and a slight scurrying sound from under his bed.

The last thing he needed was another fight with his uncle and waking the man up in the middle of the night, with whatever strange creature was under his bed, was a great way to start a rather unpleasant one.

Harry crouched down rather nervously.

Hagrid would never send Harry anything he thought was dangerous.

However, Hagrid had named a ferocious cerberus Fluffy, and had thought that raising a baby dragon in his small wooden cabin was a good idea.

Hagrid just didn't have a normal sense of what was dangerous.

Harry saw whatever the thing was huddled against the wall under his bed. Harry reached under his bed for it but had to stifle a yelp as it chomped down on his hand.

Luckily, it didn't seem to have any teeth.

Harry backed up as the thing started moving towards him.

Once it was out from under his bed, Harry was bewildered to see that it was a book.

He lunged at it, flattening the thing with his body.

Harry awkwardly took his belt off and wrapped it around the book and buckled it tight. Picking it up by the strap, Harry read ''The Monster Book of Monsters' across the spine.

Harry read the note that came with the book and was quite alarmed to see that Hagrid thought the biting book about monsters would come in handy in their next year. Harry frowned; he really hoped Hagrid hadn't gotten a new pet he wanted help with.

Harry picked up the letter from Hogwarts and broke the seal.

It started rather like he expected last years had started, if he had ever gotten that letter, until he got to the part about Hogsmeade. Hogsmeade was the village by the school which third years and above were allowed to visit during certain weekends, provided they had a signed permission slip from their parents or guardians.

Now that really did put a damper on his birthday spirits.

The Dursleys never liked to do anything that made Harry happy; they would never sign the form.

Harry had heard about the town of Hogsmeade from older students, and he dearly did not want to be the only third year who was stuck in the castle while everyone else was having fun in the town.

Harry got up to put the letters on his desk but had to grab his pants to keep them from falling down. Dudley's hand me downs certainly had more than enough room in the waistband for Harry, as scrawny as he was.

Harry rummaged around for a spare belt and found one in his closet. Formerly Dudley's, it was of course too big for him and would need a new hole for the buckle, but for the moment Harry was content to just tie the two ends together.

Harry put his birthday gifts away in the space under the loose floorboard.

He was about ready to go to sleep when he spotted the envelope.

In the excitement of receiving birthday presents, he had forgotten the plain brown owl that had left its delivery on his desk.

Harry picked up the letter, which was addressed to Mr. H. Potter, and opened it up, removing another envelope with a piece of parchment wrapped around it.

To Mr. H. Potter, The enclosed envelope was left with our owl service, Streep's Owl Delivery, on 14 September 1981 to be delivered on 31 July 1993.

The delivery of this letter concludes this transaction, there are no pending charges.

We hope that you are satisfied with the services rendered and that you will consider Streep's Owl Delivery for your future owling needs.

Please find below a listing of our services.

Harry disregarded the rest of the form letter and looked at the envelope with some trepidation.

1981? What could anyone have wanted to tell him now from when he was a baby.

Harry turned the envelope over.

On one side, written in green ink was just the word Harry.

On the other side, sealing the envelope was a red wax seal depicting a lion on a hilltop.

Harry nervously opened the envelope, choosing to tear the paper rather than break the wax seal.

Inside were several sheets of parchment and a photograph. The first thing Harry noticed was that the letter had been written by two people.

Some paragraphs were written with neat blocky letters, but the majority of the letter was written in smaller flowing cursive.

Harry pulled the picture out of the envelope and stared at it with wide eyes.

It was his parents, and in his mother's arms, smiling happily at something behind the camera, was himself, holding in his pudgy little hands a piece of board paper that said, 'Happy Thirteenth Birthday Harry'.

Harry stared at the picture for a while, watching as his father looked down at the baby and then back at the camera with a grin and a wave.

Harry turned to the letter.

My Dearest, Harry, the letter started, and Harry's breath hitched, because surely there were only two people this letter could have been written by.

My Dearest, Harry, he read again and cherished the words.

If you are reading this, as only you can read this, then today you turned thirteen. Happy birthday my dear, you must be so big now. Though it is hard to imagine, since you are currently not much bigger than the cat.

Happy birthday Harry, the writing changed, his father's writing.

I'm sorry we can't be there for your special day, but if you're reading this, then your mother and I have died. I can only hope you have had a happy childhood, though the trouble our world finds itself in now has often left me worried about your future.

Today you turned thirteen, his mother continued.

Many see this as the beginning of when a young boy starts to become a young man. There are things that your father and I intend to tell you when you're older, but in case we are not there to help you process this information, we decided that this is an age when you might better handle this on your own.

Though I do hope, however, that you have someone in your life who you can trust with this. Whether you are ready for this or not, though, this is when you need to know what we have to tell you.

This story started a long time ago.

Your father and I met our first day at Hogwarts, we were sorted into the same house, Gryffindor.

Unfortunately, we did not get along; it wasn't until our seventh year that we started to become amicable, and by the end of that winter term, we had started dating.

Your mother said I had had some growing up to do before I became tolerable.

I say my overwhelming charm just takes some getting used to.

Harry smiled, he knew so little about his parents, and anything they put in about themselves felt like something important about himself.

This isn't the story of how I married your father though. It is the tale of the first wizard I had ever met.

When I was nine, I had done some accidental magic in the park, and a boy who lived in the area saw. He was the one who told me I was a witch, and about the wizarding world.

His name was Severus Snape, and we soon became friends. A little over a year after that, we both received our Hogwarts letters. I was so excited, and so happy to already have a friend who would be going with me.

Harry certainly hadn't been expecting that, though he knew that Snape had gone to school with his parents. The thought of the man being in any way associated with his mother turned his stomach.

My first big disappointment came during the sorting. I was very happy to be sorted into Gryffindor, but sad that my friend had been sorted into another house, Slytherin. As I soon found out, our houses were supposed to be rivals. We stayed close friends, however, though this caused us some trouble from time to time.

Severus was a brilliant student, and he always challenged me to do better than I'd thought I could. One of the things I wish he hadn't done well in, though, was his studies into the dark arts. Severus had had, at times, a rather traumatic childhood, and he came from a very broken home.

I think he would be the first to say that I shouldn't be making excuses for him, but I do think that he always sought a power that could protect him from the many hurts in his life. Through it all I tried my best to be a good friend to him, though that often meant overlooking some of the things he got up to when I wasn't around.

It was in our fifth year that we started dating.Unfortunately, this was also around the time he started to associate with some of the older students in his house.

Harry was really starting to reassess his earlier thought about learning more about his parents.

Why was his mother telling him this? And how could she have dated Snape of all people?

As I said, Severus was a brilliant student, but it wasn't until our fifth year that he really gained the notice of his peers. Before then, I'm afraid, I was his only friend in the school. There were some in his house, like Lucious Malfoy and Belatrix Lestrange, who saw his skills and thought he would be useful to them.

This was the beginning of dark times for the wizarding world. You likely already know what the cause was. A dark wizard named Voldemort had started to raise followers. He preached blood purity and called for a new social order.

While in the beginning, he and his followers did not commit any crimes publicly, there started to be many disappearances, and unexplained deaths. Mixed families found dead in their homes; voices for equality that suddenly went silent. Malfoy and Lestrange were supporters of this dark wizard, and they often preached blood purity in the school. Not openly, of course, but they started drawing support from within their house and from the rest of the school as well.

I suppose I shouldn't have been, but I was shocked when I first saw Severus in a crowd of Malfoy's hangers-on. Unlike the dark magic, I couldn't ignore this. I confronted him; asked him how he could listen to a man like that: a man who thought I shouldn't be allowed in the wizarding world, much less the school.

He told me that he wasn't there to listen about blood purity, but that a friendship with Lucious Malfoy would be good for his future. Malfoy, he said, could get him the best apprenticeship, the best job.

Of course, what neither of us said was the obvious: there was only so much study one could do into the dark arts at Hogwarts, while old families like Malfoy's had access to many books that should never have been written. He assured me that he could never hate me for being a muggleborn. Whatever his reasons, I felt that it was up to me to save him from the dark path he was walking.

In the months that followed, I felt at times closer to him that I had ever felt to anyone before. I could not stop him from following the Dark Arts though, nor could I deafen him to the words of Lucius Malfoy or blind his ambitions that led him astray.

It was a few months later, in the middle of OWLs week that our relationship ended. Severus had always had an easily bruised ego, and a need to feel that he could take care of himself.

One evening by the lake, a couple of other boys in our year had been bullying him, and I came to his defense. He cried out that he didn't need my help and called me a mudblood.

I thought I would interject here, his father wrote.

I was one of the boys who had been in the altercation with Snape. We had had a long rivalry, and he gave as good as he got. But I must confess that my behavior that day was abhorrent, and while I don't regret our rivalry, I do regret the side of me it brought out.

If there's one bit of fatherly advice I'd like to impart in this letter, it's that you should never use another's misdeeds to justify your own. I knew that Snape practiced the dark arts, and I used it as justification to act out my own hurtful instincts. There was no justification for what I did that day, and I hope that you can avoid the regrets that I amassed in my youth.

His mother continued.

After those words passed his lips though, thoughts of his defense fled my mind and I fled the scene. I was incredibly hurt, entirely betrayed. I had been called that word a number of times before, but never by someone I cared about. I started to wonder if Severus had been harboring feelings against muggleborns for a while, and I had just been in this separate class in his mind.

I refused to talk to him for the next few days, and when I was ready to listen to him, I had already made up my mind. He begged me to forgive him, swore he would never say anything like that again, and told me that I was the only person he cared about.

I forgave him, though I didn't tell him so; I wanted our relationship to continue, I wanted to forget that day had ever happened, and most of all, I wanted to guide Severus away from Malfoy and his sycophants.

But I couldn't.

I had something far more important to do, someone else I had to protect.

In the days after that evening by the lake, I started to notice some odd symptoms and a simple spell showed me that I was pregnant. I trust that I do not need to go into detail to explain how this came to be.

I will only say that at that age I was easily lost in the wonder of such a relationship, and that I hope you understand the importance of responsible decisions in your youth. One indiscretion can change your life greatly.

Harry wasn't prone to cursing, but he started a quiet litany of words he had learned from Ron and his teammates, dreading what would come next.

There was only one person who could have been the father, and suddenly I was faced with a horrible dilemma. I couldn't trust that Severus would be able to handle having a child with a muggleborn. I couldn't risk raising a child with a man who felt contempt for his blood status. I wouldn't allow my child to grow up surrounded by the dark arts.

At the same time, I did wonder if a half-blood child could help me convince Severus to cut ties with Malfoy, and help to turn him away from the dark arts. In the end though, the choice was simple, I would protect my child. So, I severed ties with Severus, and decided to keep the knowledge of my pregnancy from him. I hoped that he would someday be the person I could trust and raise a child with, but I knew that at that moment, he wasn't.

Harry was struggling to keep quiet as he read.

Did he have a half sibling somewhere? Had they been adopted; one of his older classmates? The thought of it was almost as exciting as it was disturbing, having family other than the Dursleys.

He returned to the letter for answers.

There was one big issue though; magic might have helped to hide the fact that I was pregnant over the next nine months, but I couldn't have hidden the birth of my child, and the timing would leave little doubt in Severus's mind whose child it was. I started reading books about pregnancy in earnest, and in secret. I didn't know exactly what I was looking for, but I was desperate for some sort of solution.

I found it two months later, in a book I had picked up in Diagon Alley. A potion that would halt the growth of the child inside of me, place it in a sort of stasis until I was ready to have a child. I was relieved to have found a way to hide you from Severus, and also, becoming pregnant at sixteen was terrifying.

I brewed the potion, and I took it. I carried that child for five years, until you were born Harry.

Harry's mind went sideways.

That was impossible.

There was no way he could be Snape's son.

He started to breath heavily, the letter almost forgotten as he started to pace his room.

There was just no way! It was seeing himself in the mirror that brought him back to reality.

He had pictures of his father, he had the one that had come with the letter right there on his desk, and he looked just like him.

People who knew his parents commented on it even.

Maybe his mother had been wrong, maybe the potion hadn't worked right, and she had lost the pregnancy, and she just happened to become pregnant again right before she decided to have him.

Nodding reassuringly to himself, Harry turned back to the letter, hoping there was something in there besides this tale about Snape that he’d actually want to have read.

So far, it had only been that opening line.

My dearest, Harry. After I had taken the potion though, I felt quite a bit of shame. A hidden pregnancy: I felt like I was hiding my indiscretion by lying to everyone and keeping a child from his father. But I was never ashamed of you Harry. You were my constant companion. I always knew you were there, inside of me.

In my sixth year, I avoided all contact with boys, and threw myself into my studies.

In my seventh year, I was made Head Girl, and though I did not feel that I deserved it, I took the position, determined to do my best.

Your father was made Head Boy.

Snape was such a bastard, Harry thought. Treating his mother horribly, hurting her like that, making her feel like that.

Harry was so angry on her behalf; he couldn't understand how she could write this letter like there could still be some sort of good in the man. Like there was anything redeemable about him.

I had previously not gotten along well with James. Between his feud with Severus and a general sense of entitlement, I couldn't stand him.

However, growing up changes us in many ways, and I had started to notice positive changes in your father during our sixth year. He started to treat people better, and as the conflict outside the castle walls started to affect those of us inside, he started showing true leadership to many students who were unsure of what their futures held. Still, I did not like that he was Head Boy beside me, and I still had some animosity towards him for his past.

As the year went on though, as we worked together and truly got to know each other, I found his new personality to be much more than just tolerable. Though when he asked me out towards the end of our seventh year, I was still hesitant. Not because of his past, but because of mine.

I was pregnant with another man's child.

I told myself that it would not become serious, that it would last until the end of the school year, and end when we entered the adult world.

I didn't expect to fall in love, I didn't expect to find myself planning a future that involved him, and I didn't know how it would work with you. The end of the school year came, and the end of our relationship was nowhere in sight. I knew I had to tell him about you.

Figuring out how was tricky, and your father being your father completely took the matter out of my hands when he asked me to marry him. So I told him everything right then and there. I was afraid that it would all be over, but it wasn't.

I told your mother that I would love her no matter whose child she carried, and that I would love any child she bore into our marriage. I was right too.

Your father accepted you with no reservations, and I accepted his proposal without any myself. We were married four months later.

Yet the conflict in the wizarding world continued to escalate. Your father and I both worked against Voldemort and his followers, the Death Eaters, under the leadership of Albus Dumbledore.

One night, while responding to a Death Eater revel, I was hit by a curse that hurt me badly. I made a full recovery, but I almost lost you. I couldn't carry you and fight, so I decided it was time to have you.

I had wanted you to be born in a peaceful world, but I knew that if I continued to fight, it would have been lucky if you had been born at all.

Five months later you were delivered, a little premature, though by now you had been inside of me for fifty-nine months. During much of the time after we graduated Hogwarts, I heard very little of Severus, except that he was associating with known Death Eaters.

Shortly before you were born though, we heard, from various contacts, that Severus was brewing potions for Voldemort. There was no question in my mind that he could never know about you.

Now, wrote his father. I can just imagine you reading this right now. You're probably thinking that you look an awful lot like me. This is by design, rather than by nature.

Sirius Black, your godfather, introduced me to an old ritual, it was once commonly used for adoption, where a parent can imbue a very young child that is not theirs by birth with a part of themselves.

Shortly after you were born, we gave you a potion with my blood, and I cast the charm that would make you my child by more than just marriage. This is why you look so much like me, or as much as a baby can look like his father.

The point is, I am your father, forever and always, but just as there is a part of me and your mother in you, there is still everything you got from Snape too, you just can't tell anymore by looking at you.

Sirius is the only one besides us who knows any of this.

That is why we are writing this letter, his mother continued. We did not write this letter just to tell you about your unusual heritage. I do not know all of what you have inherited from Severus, but I do know that you have a hereditary illness from him.

There is no need to be alarmed. It is easily treatable.

It is a magical variant of an illness called hemophilia, and it basically causes your body to produce insufficient quantities of the blood cells responsible for clotting your blood when you bleed. There is a spell that treats this, but it is not a cure. It is a fairly simple spell and lasts throughout early childhood.

However, as children with this illness begin to mature magically, the magic that they use and encounter starts to wear away at the spell that acts in lieu of the cells that they are lacking. The spell has to be cast again.

The older a child gets, and the stronger they become magically, the shorter this spell lasts.

During early childhood, the accidental magic you perform is fairly limited, and has little effect on the spell. When you are young, just starting Hogwarts, the amount of magic that you use and is used on you is small, the spell will last an additional four and a half years, on average.

By the end of your schooling when you are using powerful spells and practicing things like human transfiguration on one another in class, the spell is worn away quickly and it should be updated every year.

You have only been practicing magic for the past two years, so this letter gives you quite a bit of time before you need to worry about this. Even so, you should check the strength of the charm when you get back to Hogwarts.

I have included detailed instructions with this letter on how to do so, as well as how to renew the spell when the time comes. Properly managed, this illness should never affect you.

I hesitate to add this next bit, but I cannot tell you about Severus without telling you the rest of his story. Not long after we decided to have you, we went to a meeting with Albus Dumbledore.

We arrived early, early enough to see Severus leaving the Headmaster's office. I asked Albus what he had been doing there, but he told me that he could not tell me.

A few months later, just after you had been born, Albus told us that Voldemort had targeted our family; that someone close to Voldemort had told him so.

He would not tell me who.

Perhaps it is wishful thinking on my part, I do not know if this is true, but I feel certain that it is Severus. I hope that he has turned his back on Voldemort and his hateful ways. I want him to be Dumbledore's source, but I cannot trust that he is.

I wish that I could have saved him, I wish that he could know that I forgave him the moment he apologized. The mistakes he has made in life are his own, but I hope he is safe, and I hope he finds peace.

For his safety, this paragraph will disappear after you read this, though again, you are the only one who can read it.

The paragraph disappeared at that moment.

Anyone else who tries to read this letter will see stories that your father and I have written about our past. If you wish to see them yourself, simply tap the parchment with your wand and say 'revelo' to change the letter back and forth.

I hope that you are well, and that you are well cared for. I hope that this letter never needs to be delivered. I hope you know that we love you so very much. Happy birthday my son, may your year be filled with joy and peace.

Happy birthday Harry, you and your mother are the best things in my life. Whatever happens, whether we're there to celebrate your birthday with you or not, know that we are with you always, his father finished the letter.

Harry stared at the letter for a moment, not really taking it in anymore.

"It means nothing," he murmured quietly.

He nodded to himself.

It meant nothing, nothing whatsoever. Snape wasn't his dad, not in any meaningful sense of the word.

He hadn't been there when Harry had been a baby. He hadn't held him or played with him. He hadn't fed him or cared for him.

He hadn't done anything for Harry.

All he'd ever done was mock him and try to get him expelled.

And how messed up was that? He'd spent every moment together with the man being ridiculed and glared at, and the guy was really some weird bio-dad.

Harry became angry as he thought of all the times he had been locked in his cupboard as a kid, alone and dreaming of someone coming for him, of finding out that his parents weren't really dead and that they wanted to take him away.

Well that dream had come true, in part, and what a nightmare it had become.

Harry was about to scream with all of the anger rushing through him, his breathing was out of control and he was ready to start pulling out his hair.

But he didn't.

A calmness suffused him, his eyes grew heavy, and he felt at peace, like he was lying on the grass in the park on a bright and sunny day.

"It doesn't mean anything," he said to himself again, a comfort this time, not a denial.

He didn't need Snape, he didn't need a father, he wasn't that kid anymore.

He just needed to sleep, and think about the rest of the letter in the morning.

-

Hermione, Thank you for the broom repair kit.

I can't use it yet, my brooms locked up with the majority of my school stuff, but for now I'm sure I'll enjoy being able to read the book that came with it.

The holiday's been fairly boring so far, all I really have for company are Hedwig and my school assignments.

I hope you're having fun in France.

I'll try to meet you in Diagon Alley but no promises.

Harry

Like the letter to Ron he had just written, this one omitted most of the unpleasant aspects of his summer. Like the letter he wasn't thinking about.

He wouldn't send the letters yet; he didn't want to send Hedwig off after she had been gone for so long.

Harry got up and started getting ready for the day. He had woken early despite his late night and had started writing his friends to keep his mind from wandering elsewhere.

Pulling a clean shirt on, Harry found himself glancing at the loose floorboard where the letter from his parents was hidden.

Out of sight but not out of mind by any means.

Harry made his way downstairs.

Before he turned to the kitchen though, he noticed a special alert on the television. Five faces appeared on the screen. Four men, and one very deranged looking woman.

"The public is warned that all five of the escaped convicts are extremely dangerous and should not be approached for any reason. Police also caution that this man," the center picture enlarged on the screen. The man was almost feral looking, and Harry was revolted to see that it looked like he had filed his teeth down to points. "Fenrir Greyback, has on numerous occasions attacked children, and has several charges of child kidnaping. Police suggest that parents keep a close eye on children playing outside." Harry blanched at the thought of a man like that loose on the world.

"The number at the bottom of your screen is a hotline, anyone who sites any of the five escapees or has any information about their whereabouts should call immediately. For more information and up to the minute updates turn to our sister station Channel 4 News. We now return you to your regularly scheduled programming." One of Dudley's programs returned to the screen and Harry walked into the kitchen.

That woman had stuck out, not her deranged face, but the name below it, Belatrix Lestrange.

He felt like he had heard the name recently.

"Where've you been?" his aunt asked severely. "Don't make me drag you out of bed in the mornings, you won't like it."

Harry rolled his eyes as he took over the breakfast preparations only to feel his aunt slap him upside the back of his head.

"Don't you roll your eyes at me you horrid boy. Why I've put up with you all these years I have no idea, but the least you can do is show a little respect."

Hoping he could head her off Harry gave as about a polite "yes Aunt Petunia," as he could, but she just continued to rant under her breath, while she set the table, covering topics such as: Harry's several unsavory qualities, that freakish business under her roof, and her own saintly patience.

Harry had heard it all before and did his best to ignore it while he worked on breakfast. Not wanting to dodge any frying pans, Harry kept all retorts to himself.

Uncle Vernon walked into the kitchen and his Aunt stopped her tirade. As much as she liked to complain about Harry, she wasn't about to get her husband in a lather about it.

"Wonderful breakfast Petunia," his uncle said as he sat down at the table.

"Dudley sweetums, breakfast is ready," his aunt called to Dudley who was still watching television.

Harry finished putting the breakfast on the table and went to eat his breakfast over the sink.

"Now," his uncle said, putting down his fork, a while later. "As you both know, today is quite a special day." Harry almost choked on his toast.

The Dursleys never remembered his birthday, much less treated it like something to celebrate.

His aunt glared at him while he coughed a bit.

"A special day?" Harry asked once he was settled.

"Don't you pay attention boy? Marge is coming to visit, her train will be coming into the station soon. Actually I want to get to the station early, I don't want Marge waiting for me with those murderers on the loose."

"Murderers?" his aunt said worriedly. "What are you talking about?"

"It was on the radio earlier when I was shaving. Five murderers escaped from prison last night. There's a large manhunt underway."

"I saw them on the tellie," Dudley said excitedly. "They looked deranged."

"My goodness," said Aunt Petunia. "Where did they escape from."

"Could be anywhere, from all the information the news report gave," his uncle said gruffly.

"They could be walking down the street right now for all we know," Aunt Petunia said, getting up to look out the kitchen window as though she actually expected to see them doing just that. "Maybe we should go with you, I wouldn't want to be home alone without you if one of those people turned up."

"That's a wonderful idea Petunia. We should head out now then," his uncle said.

"I haven't finished my breakfast yet," Dudley wailed. "And I don't want to go, I can look after myself."

Harry tried not to snicker at Dudley's complaining, he had already eaten more than Harry was going to eat over the next few days.

"Now Diddy-darling, we just don't want anything to happen to you while we're gone. Tell you what, since you're such a good boy, and you're missing out on breakfast, we can stop for ice cream and doughnuts on the way home. How about that darling?"

Dudley had to think for a moment while he shoveled some more rashers and eggs into his mouth.

"One more thing though," his uncle said, turning his attention to Harry. "We couldn't tell your aunt about that bloody school you go to, so we've told her that you attend St. Brutus's Secure Center for Incurably Criminal Boys."

"What," Harry exploded, forgetting to fly under the radar in the face of such an injustice.

"And that's the story you'll be sticking to if you know what's good for you," his uncle said darkly, standing up from the table so he could gain height over Harry.

Harry just gaped at the unfairness of it all.

"Make yourself useful while we're gone and clean up the kitchen," Aunt Petunia said as she collected Dudley and walked out of the room.

Harry just stood there for a moment, listening to the Dursleys leave.

With the Dursleys gone, Harry took his time to eat his breakfast at the table before he cleaned the kitchen. At least, he decided, he got to eat a decent breakfast.

Then he took a moment to pick the lock on the cupboard under the stairs, he needed a new bottle of ink. He looked longingly at his wand, but left it where it was lest his uncle notice that it was missing.

It wasn't like the escapees were actually wandering Little Whinging.

Harry went upstairs to his room to put the bottle away. When he pried up the loose floorboard though the first thing he noticed was the letter from his parents. He sighed and figured that he should deal with it while he had some time to himself.

He had no desire to read anything about Snape though, so he only reread the part about hemophilia, and then flipped to the pages that discussed spell work which he hadn't read the night before.

By the time he had finished reading it, he was fairly confident he would be able to handle any spell casting by himself, but he wouldn't be able to check anything until he got back to Hogwarts, and that was what worried him.

The letter said that the average kid wouldn't cast or encounter enough magic to wear away the spell till they were in the middle of their fifth year, but Harry wasn't an average child. What effect had magical snake venom and Phoenix tears had on him, or fighting off Voldemort over the stone, or for that matter surviving the killing curse.

That was all strong magic.

Still though, after looking at the symptoms of the untreated disease, Harry doubted that the spell had worn off yet.

The fact that he hadn't bled to death earlier in the summer proved that.

Still though, Harry had no idea how strong the spell was or how much longer it would last. Unless he wanted to write an adult wizard and explain his predicament, though, there wasn't much Harry could do until the end of summer. In the end, he was probably being paranoid.

He was fine, and he had plenty of time.

He didn't need to worry about anything, besides Marge coming to visit.

And the Hogsmeade permission slip, Harry realized as he put the parchment away.

He had completely forgotten about Hogsmead after reading the letter from his parents the night before. Whatever hopes Harry might have had the night before for getting the form signed were shattered by Marge's impending arrival.

As strict and unpleasant as Uncle Vernon was with Harry, he had always stepped things up when she visited, like he wanted to impress her with how domineering he could be with his small nephew.

Harry gathered up one of his homework assignments and went downstairs. With the house to himself, he relished the idea of working on his homework in the open. He worked until he heard his uncle's car pull up. It was time to put away his magical things and pretend to be a well behaved hoodlam who didn't speak unless spoken to.

It was when he was putting his homework away that he remembered where he had heard the name Belatrix Lestrange.

His mother had mentioned her, one of Voldemort's supporters.

Unless there were a lot of Belatrix Lestranges out there, and Harry doubted it, then that woman on the news alert was a witch, and likely all five of the escapees were magical.

That was probably why neither of the news reports had mentioned where they had escaped from. They'd escaped from a wizarding prison, and likely could be anywhere in the country. If they were all supporters of Voldemort, Harry had a feeling he would not be having an uneventful school year.

 

"Now if I've said it once, I've said it a dozen times, hanging's just the only thing to be done with people like this," Marge said as she sipped her tea on the sitting room sofa next to Dudley. It had been common the past couple of days to hear her talk about her opinion of the criminal justice system in the United Kingdom.

"I quite agree," Uncle Vernon said, from his armchair. "They should make the people responsible for their sentences responsible for whatever they get up to now that they've escaped."

Uncle Vernon and Marge always seemed to agree on everything. It was odd to hear them discuss anything really, the two of them just reiterating each other’s points and both seeming to feel that the world would be such a better place if everyone else saw it as they did. From her spot on the window seat, sipping her tea, Aunt Petunia would make noises of assent now and then as the two siblings discussed the death penalty while her son Dudley sat on the couch with his aunt, ignoring the conversation for the biscuits, his tea forgotten.

"Of course there are quite a number of people responsible well before that," Marge said, picking up on her brother's comment. "It isn't just murderers who get off easy, it seems everyone gets a free pass these days to just continue on in their abominable ways. Why I'd put good money down to say that if we hadn't lost the old ways we wouldn't have to deal with such riffraff. Now I can all but guarantee that all of these criminals probably started out small, and all they received was probation, and then they just got worse and worse. There was a time when they'd cut off your hand for thievery. Bring that back, and I bet you'll see the crime rate plummet."

"Too true, too true," Uncle Vernon said as he reached over to pick up a biscuit from the coffee table.

"And it's just like dog training, most people who work with dogs will tell you, you don't blame the dog, you blame the owner."

Harry didn't need to wonder what Marge's dogs said about her. They were all mean and I'll tempered.

"Of course I'm not saying you're to blame for this one here", she jerked her head towards Harry. Harry had been hoping they would ignore him for the rest of the afternoon. Earlier they had ganged up on him for 'glaring' at his tea.

Harry had become well practiced that day in restraining himself from rolling his eyes. This was the fifth time during tea that he had been brought in as an example.

"I've seen you with the boy, and you are an excellent disciplinarian, Vernon, but there's an exception to every rule of course. Now and then it doesn't matter how you raise them, sometimes you just start with nothing but dross and nothing's going to polish it up."

"I know what you mean," Uncle Vernon said glaring at Harry. "Knew he was rotten from the beginning, always something off."

"Of course with parents like that what can you expect? A boy won't be much different from his father." Well Harry certainly wasn't much like Snape, but what about his dad?

"I mean just look at our Dudley here," Dudley didn't even look up at the mention of his name. "He's well on his way to being a good upstanding man, just like his father."

No, harry thought, Dudley wasn't that far off from his father. He thought it amusing that Marge had just gone from arguing nurture to nature without seeming to see any contradictions. What had he gotten from his parents, he wondered? Besides his eyes from his mother and his face and hair from his father, he didn't really know of anything he could attribute to them. He had reread the letter the day before. He tried to think back, to how his parents had written the letter and what they had told him about themselves. He couldn't think of anything about them that reminded him of himself. He wished he could use his wand so that he could see what anyone else reading the letter would see, stories about his parents, and probably not about unwanted pregnancies. As uncomfortable and angry as parts of that letter had made him though, it did help distract him from Marge's presence and her frequently offensive words.

"Do they use the cane on you at that school of yours, boy?" Marge suddenly asked Harry. "Not that I expect that it will do anything for this one, but it is the principal after all," she added in an aside to her brother.

Harry had to remind himself that school meant St. Brutus's and not Hogwarts. He glanced at Uncle Vernon, not sure which answer to give. The man gave a brusque nod.

"Yeah," he said. "All the time."

"Clearly they aren't using enough force if you can be so blazè about it," she turned to his uncle. "You should write his school; tell them they have your permission to use extra force with this one."

Snape would probably like that, Harry thought. Actually, that reminded him of his permission slip, and gave him an idea on how he could get it signed. He'd be in terrible trouble though.

"Actually," he said, his heart rate already picking up from the danger of his idea. "That reminds me, I'll be right back," and with that he walked out of the room and ran upstairs. He grabbed the Hogsmeade permission slip from under the loose floorboard in his room and then ran back downstairs. He picked up a pen from the kitchen before he walked back into the sitting room.

"It's the corporal punishment permission slip for St. Brutus," he said handing the form and pen to his uncle. Uncle Vernon, of course, could see exactly what the form was for, but he wasn't about to say so with his sister right across the room, and he wasn't about to not sign it either. "I'll be in so much trouble if I don't get a signature," he added. "You just need to check the box and sign right there on the bottom to give them permission to use the cane."

"Make sure to let them know they can use extra force with the boy," Marge told her brother.

Uncle Vernon was giving him a murderous look and for a moment Harry was worried he'd tear the paper up regardless of Marge being there, but then he gave Harry a nasty smile and signed the form before handing it back to him.

"Well," Harry said. "I'll just go put this away with my school things and try to stay out of trouble this school year."

Marge snorted as though she doubted that Harry had any intention of doing so.

"Petunia dear," said Uncle Vernon, "why don't you show Marge your tulips. I hear they're the envy of the neighborhood."

He didn't have much time, but he didn't really need much either. He shot upstairs and once more reached under the loose floorboard and grabbed the letters he had previously written Ron and Hermione. Hedwig flapped out of her cage, seeing the envelopes.

"Here girl, I don't have any time, so I need you to take these straight away."

Hedwig hooted and grabbed the letters securely in her talons along with the rolled-up permission slip. Harry opened his window up wide and his snowy companion was off. A moment later heavy footsteps outside his room announced Uncle Vernon's arrival.

"You think you can back me into a corner boy?" His uncle thundered from the doorway. "You'll soon see that I always win. The only place that form's going is the shredder. Now hand it over."

Harry didn't know if the smile on his face was nerves or the knowledge that he had already, in fact, won. It certainly wasn't for what was about to happen. "I don't have it anymore, you're too late."

"Too late?" His uncle bellowed, but then his eyes darted to the open window and then to Hedwig's empty cage. He slammed the door as he walked into the room.

Still worth it, Harry told himself as his stomach clenched and a sweat broke out on his brow.

Later, if anyone noticed the gash over his eyebrow, or his slight limp, they didn't say anything.


IIIIIIIIIIIIIII


It was all they showed on about half of the channels on the television for a couple of days. Dudley had been throwing fits each time one of his shows failed to air. Marge said he was being assertive. Harry thought he was being insensitive, but he kept that to himself.

Though it wasn't the first thing that had hit the news since the convicts escape that Harry could attribute to wizardry, it was by far the worst. First there had been two families found gruesomely murdered in their homes, neighbors from the second one had reported strange lights and noises from the house. The next day a man in London had been found dead on the sidewalk with no apparent cause of death. The telecaster had noted that he had been dressed eccentrically. The most recent event was on an entirely different level though.

"Arson investigators initially struggled to find the source of the blaze that tore through the London Museum of Science but are now finding pieces of a powerful incendiary device. The CTC has released an image from a nearby security camera moments before the fiery blast. They have confirmed that the man caught on camera is none other than Alexander Beckett, one of the five now infamous escaped convicts who have led police on a massive manhunt with nothing but dead ends."

The Dursleys, as well as the rest of the muggle world, now thought that the escaped convicts were terrorists, and Harry supposed that they were right, but none of them really knew what they were dealing with. Though if the Dursleys were concerned that a few hundred people had been burned alive, they weren't inclined to show it. It was business as usual at the Dursley's home, and since it was Marge's last night, there was to be a small party. Aunt Petunia had been in the kitchen all day preparing for the dinner and Harry had been dragged out of his room on occasion to help. When he wasn't washing dishes or stirring pots, Harry had been listening to the radio in his room trying to sort out news that tied into the wizarding world.

"Boy," his Aunt hollered up the stairs. Harry groaned as he rolled off of his bed. He hoped Aunt Petunia didn't need more potatoes peeled, he hated peeling potatoes. Harry walked downstairs, glad at least that only Aunt Petunia was home at the moment. Uncle Vernon had gone into the office for a couple of hours to handle some crisis, and Marge had taken Dudley shopping for his own presents.

"Chop those onions, and don't be sloppy about it, I want them all the same size," his aunt said as he walked into the kitchen. She could be as exacting as Professor Snape could be with his potions’ ingredients. His mouth curled into a frown as he thought of the man. "And watch the mixer, don't let the cream get too stiff." The stand mixer was out on the counter, whirring at full speed.

Harry got to work, hoping to be able to escape the kitchen as soon as possible, and for a while he worked in peace while Aunt Petunia made herself a sandwich for her lunch.

"Are they your sort?" she asked out of the blue.

Harry didn't need to ask who she was referring to.

"I think so," he said.

"Why can't your sort just leave decent people alone, always causing problems. We'd have been well off if they'd found all of you in the Middle Ages." Harry couldn't be sure if she was upset for the people who had died, or if she was just upset to have to hear about magic encroaching on her normal world.

"They didn't find anyone in the witch hunts, they just burned a bunch of your sort at the stake," he emphasized the 'your sort' the same way Aunt Petunia said it. No doubt she wished Harry would be burned at the stake. "Besides, even if they had, it wouldn't have stopped my mum being born a witch."

Aunt Petunia threw down her spreading knife and stormed over to him. "Don't you say that word in my house," Aunt Petunia hissed.

For a moment he tensed up and no words wanted to follow. He berated himself for feeling like that though. He swallowed thickly, and forced out "And which word is that?" Harry said finally, turning towards her, with an emphasis on 'which'.

She slapped him and Harry briefly saw stars. The two of them just looked at each other for a moment.

"Witch, witch, witch!" he exploded, yelling at her for the first time he could ever remember. "Magic, hocus pocus, abra cadabra. The sky's not falling, the neighbors aren't staring, the world doesn't end when we talk about magic!"

Aunt Petunia looked frightened at first when Harry went off, but then a look of fury suffused her. For a moment, Harry was worried she would grab a frying pan, or worse, a knife. He noticed belatedly that he had still been holding the chef's knife when he had been yelling at her. Yet then, out of nowhere, his aunts gaze turned to the stand mixer, still running at full speed.

"Ohhhh," she cried. "I told you to watch the mixer, why can't you just do what you're told, you horrid boy." She shut off the machine and grabbed the bowl, as though their previous argument had never happened, as if magic and her sister hadn't been brought up in the same sentence. For all that she'd seemed to hate the imagination, Aunt Petunia was very good at pretending that problems didn't exist, or in this case, replacing one with another.

"Were you trying to make butter?" she asked scathingly, scraping the bowl out into the trash. She opened the door of the refrigerator and then slammed it shut. Harry was still just staring at her, not sure if he should just pretend with her that their argument hadn't taken place.

"Here," she said, thrusting a five-pound note in his face. "Take that and go pick up some more cream from the store. Heavy whipping cream, and certainly no half and half. And be quick boy, don't you dare try to ruin my dinner."

Harry just grabbed the money and walked out, grateful to be out of the house. He walked down the street at a quick pace. Now that he'd calmed down, he was immensely relieved to have gotten off so easy, it was lucky his uncle hadn't been home at the time. Still, he shouldn't be pressing his luck, the sooner he got back with the cream the sooner his aunt could forget that she was angry with him.

It was three blocks from Privet Drive that Harry noticed him, out of the corner of his eye. Someone was staring at him. He turned to look and see who it was, but no one was there. He looked around for a moment before continuing on his way. As he continued on to the store, he continued to feel like someone was watching him. Twice he turned around at the sound of footsteps to find nothing. He felt an itch between his shoulder blades, and he picked up his pace. He dearly wished his wand wasn't in the cupboard under the stairs.

Reaching the main street, Harry was glad that he was surrounded by people. Pedestrians, motorists, and the odd bicyclist bustled about him. The feeling that he was being followed abated and he enjoyed just being in the crowd.

Walking into the market, Harry made a beeline towards the dairy and was in line at the counter less than a minute after he walked in. The checkout girl looked at him askance, and Harry didn't know if it was for his oversized hand-me-down clothing that still bore several of Dudley's food stains, or the handprint that was probably on his cheek. Harry just stared at the counter until the transaction was over. Heading towards the door, he once more took off at a fast pace, oddly enough, he wanted to be back on Privet Drive quickly. Of course, all too quickly, he was off the busy street and back on the suburban streets of Little Winging. Once again, the feeling that he was being watched returned, and Harry found himself looking over his shoulder repeatedly.

"Well well well, little Harry Potter, out on his own," a gruff voice said behind him.

Harry whirled around and firmed his stance when he saw who it was. He looked slightly emaciated, and he had a slightly feral look about him, but he had a calculating look in his eye as he gazed upon Harry with a predatory air.

"I wonder what he would think if he could see you now, you look ready to piss yourself. Well I'll make you into something; you're mine now. You'll be the first of my new pack. I don't need to wonder what he would think of that."

Harry didn't know who 'he' was, but he knew who the man in front of him was. Fenrir Greyback, the convict the news said went after kids. Well he couldn't have Harry.

"I'm not your anything," he said to the man, and as angry as he was, he had to force the words out. He was trying to hide just how well he knew that he was up a creek without a paddle.

The man smiled at him and took a step forward. Harry wasn't sure if he should try to run or fight, neither option seemed like it would help him very much. He put up his fists like he'd seen people do on the telly.

Greyback laughed, "you don't even have your wand out, boy. Or did you leave it at home?"

"I don't see yours," Harry said, swallowing thickly. The man was close, maybe he could grab his wand away from him. Though maybe, if he was lucky, Greyback hadn't gotten his hands on a wand yet and running would have a better chance.

A wand was suddenly in the man's fingers, twirling about as Harry's eyes followed it longingly before it disappeared again up his sleeve. "Its former owner didn't need it anymore," he said with a wicked grin. "But I won't need it to take you." He suddenly looked like an animal ready to pounce, and flight won out in Harry's internal debate. His hand darted out, the carton of cream sped at the man's face as Harry turned to run, but the carton was batted out of the way as the man seemed to pounce. Harry dodged and turned towards the nearest house, making a beeline for the side gate.

He could hear Greyback laughing as he gave chase, it almost sounded like a howl. Harry vaulted over the low fence and tore around the side of the house and into the backyard. He was at the backyard fence in a moment, jumping over that as well. It was perhaps fortuitous that Harry had been made to play so many games of Harry hunting when he was younger. He knew the back yards and alleys of Little Winging very well. Of course, he still had three blocks to go to get to Privet Drive.

As he ran, jumped, and occasionally ducked his way through the backyards of Marigold Lane, Harry got the impression that Greyback was letting the chase go on longer than it should have lasted. The whole time, he felt like Greyback was right at his heels, and the sounds the man made as he hooted and hollered made it seem like he was enjoying the chase immensely.

Harry got to the end of the block and put on a burst of speed as he crossed the street. He was getting close to home where the wards were supposed to keep him safe. Yet he knew that he was flagging, he wouldn't be able to keep up the pace. The question was, could Greyback? He hopped a fence on the other side of the street, he ducked under a jungle gym and jumped over a half-deflated kiddie pool. He ducked into the next yard when he was tackled to the ground. He landed hard, his glasses sat askew on his face and he felt rough hands flip him over and hold him down.

"That's close enough to your fancy wards, I think. They've been quite frustrating; I've been trying to pay you a visit for some time. So good of you to wander into my hunting grounds."

Harry struggled against his grasp, but the man was on top of him and held him firm. Greyback grasped his face, and Harry could feel his long nails dig into his skin. He could see every one of his pointed teeth as he grinned down at him. He looked elated. Harry felt as though his whole being revolted at the feel of the man on top of him. He knew he should be screaming for help, but he couldn't. It wasn't as though anyone could help him anyway.

"That bastard took everything from me, everything, and now I get the last thing he had left to care about. But you'll see boy, I'm really setting you free, you'll thank me some day. Now where will I mark you."

"Get off that boy," a woman shouted. Harry couldn't turn his head to look, but it sounded like it came from the house who's backyard he was in. He heard a sliding door open.

"Stay inside," he shouted as well as he could with Greyback clenching his face. "He's dangerous."

"I said get off of that boy, now," the woman said, ignoring Harry's warning.

Greyback grinned down at Harry and the hand grabbing his face twisted his head to the side so that Harry could see. The woman was older, maybe in her sixties, and she was carrying a fireplace poker. She was walking towards them. Greyback's other hand came up, his wand suddenly grasped in it.

"Let's have us some fun," he said nastily. Harry didn't want to see what he was going to do to her, but his head was still pinned to the side. He tried to grab the man's arm, but he couldn't move it, so he started clawing at his face, digging at his eyes. Greyback snarled and backhanded Harry.

"Hey," he heard the woman shout. The next thing Harry knew, Greyback was howling in anger and leaping off of Harry. The woman, it seemed, had taken a swing at him, the hooked end of the poker had torn a rip in his arm, blood seeping out. Now it was the woman who was screaming as Greyback pounced on her. Harry scrambled to his feet, terrified as he took in the scene.

Greyback looked like a wild animal mauling the woman, who was struggling tooth and nail against the man. Then he spotted the wand; both the poker and the wand lay in the grass, forgotten by both their respective wielder in the fury of the attack. Harry quickly grabbed the wand and shouted out 'Petrificus Totalus'.

Barely a flash of light. The wand, it was clear, was a very poor match for Harry. Still though, it had part of the desired effect, Greyback had stopped attacking the woman. He turned his head towards Harry with a snarl, his face covered in blood not his own. Harry rather wished he had grabbed the poker instead of the wand.

Harry dove for the poker as Greyback dove for Harry. Once more the man was on top of him. Greyback's bloody face looked inhuman. And Harry used the poker braced in both hands to keep the man’s gnashing teeth away from himself. Unfortunately, it was a losing battle. Greyback was fairly slim, but by a thirteen year old's standards, he weighed quite a bit, and it was all Harry could do to keep the man's mouth away from him as the man's long sharp nails clawed at him.

Greyback stiffened suddenly though, and colorful pieces of pottery rained down around him. He snarled turning around, Harry forgotten, as he turned to face the source of what had hit him over his back. He turned just in time to get hit in the face. A garden gnome, Harry noted. Harry tried to swing the poker at Greyback's distracted torso, but the leverage was all wrong and Harry was ignored. Then suddenly Greyback wasn't on top of him, and a gardener's spade sailed through where he had previously been. Harry scrambled up, ready to fight, but suddenly he was flung to the side; he hit a patio table and fell in a clatter.

Greyback had his wand again, and he didn't want to toy around any longer. Greyback brought his wand down in a sharp movement and roared words that Harry didn't make out and was glad he hadn't either; he rather didn't want to know how to make someone's chest explode. Where the woman had stood, face bloodied, already looking ready to keel over, but with another object to throw in her hand, there was now just a gory mess. Harry knew instantly that she was dead, how could she not be? He paused momentarily in getting up and noted Greyback's gleeful look as he took in his carnage. Why hadn't she just stayed inside and called the police? If she'd only have listened, she would be alive still; and Greyback would have likely taken Harry already. Harry felt like he would throw up.

"Is everything alright over there Ms. Adler," a man's voice called over the fence. Greyback turned his wand in the direction from whence the voice had come.

"No!" Harry called. Greyback glanced his way. Harry decided he'd do the man a favor and run in the opposite direction. Luckily, that way was Privet Drive.

He was over the fence before he heard Greyback's angrily decide to leave the muggle man and pursue Harry. Once more, Harry was hopping fences, ducking under bushes, and running around swimming pools. However, this time Greyback wasn't toying with him. He was gaining fast, and Harry knew that when he caught up, the chase would be over. Harry came to the last house on the block, it was a straight shot to the other side of the street, no obstacles, and it was likely where Greyback would capture him again. Yet Harry kept running.

He shot out into the street, just as a black BMW turned the corner at a fast pace. The driver slammed on the brakes, but Harry knew that he was going to get hit. He jumped, landing on the hood of the car with a bone jarring impact and rolling up onto the windshield. The driver started honking the horn and Harry briefly glanced inside to see that he had been hit by none other than Uncle Vernon, who was quite red in the face and looked to be turning the air inside the car blue.

He glanced behind himself, Greyback had stopped when Harry had been hit, and now looked like he thought the chase was over. Harry got a foot underneath himself and leapt off the hood of the car. He was running when he hit the ground, his head turned to see what Greyback would do. Greyback didn't bother going around the car, he jumped up onto the hood and leapt off after Harry. Soon the man was right on his heels and Harry knocked over some trash cans as he raced along the side of a house to slow the man down. It did little good, Greyback was about to catch him.

Harry was gasping for breath at this point. He saw up ahead, lying in the grass of someone's lawn, a cricket bat. Time to fight, he thought. He dove for the bat, coming back up, he turned to face Greyback, ready to swing. He heard a thud and looked just in time to see Greyback fall down. Had it been accidental magic, Harry wondered? Greyback, though, was up in a flash. He put his hand up, and Harry got the bat ready. But it looked for all the world like Greyback was pushing against an invisible barrier. The blood wards, Harry realized. They had reached the edge of the blood wards and Greyback could go no further. The man howled in fury.

"Go run on home now boy. You'll be mine soon enough," Greyback said. He pulled out his wand, turned in on himself and disappeared with a crack. Off in the distance, in the direction where he had left poor Ms. Adler, he heard two more cracks. Harry dropped the bat, and turned towards Privet Drive.


IIIIIIIIIIIIIIII


"You dented my car boy!" His uncle roared when Harry walked through the door. The man soon had Harry pressed up against the wall.

"Where's my cream?" Aunt Petunia asked sharply, seeing Harry's empty hands.

Though he knew better than to expect it, Harry still would have liked to hear: 'Are you all right?"; "What happened to your face?"; or "Who was that man chasing you?"

"There was a man chasing me, a dark wizard," he said.

"Don't say that word in my house," Uncle Vernon yelled, back handing Harry across the face.

Harry spat out blood, not caring about his Aunt's clean floors. "Don't you get it? That doesn't matter right now. Someone's trying to kidnap me, or kill me, or something, and he killed a woman who got in his way," Harry said angrily.

"Those people?" Aunt Petunia asked.

"Yes," Harry said. "One of them at least was a supporter of the guy who killed my parents."

"Get out of my house," Uncle Vernon said coldly.

"What?" Harry asked.

"I said get out of my house. You've got murderers after you? You're putting us in danger, you're putting my family in danger. I've had far more than enough of you. If killers are after you, chasing you through our own neighborhood, then it's time for you to leave, and good riddance."

"No," Harry said. "The wards, he can't get through."

Marge and Dudley chose that moment to return.

"What's he done now?" Marge asked, taking in the scene.

"He has people after him," Uncle Vernon said darkly. "Drug dealers."

Marge gasped, while Dudley just looked confused. "We'll all be killed." She said.

"Which is why he's leaving," Uncle Vernon said.

"Of course," Marge said. "He must leave immediately."

"Aunt Petunia," he said, looking at her. He didn't know what he expected, but she had taken him in.

Petunia was frowning, she wouldn't look at him, she wasn't going to help.

"Fine," he said. He pushed past Uncle Vernon and ran upstairs.

"The door's down here boy," his uncle called up the stairs.

"I'm getting my stuff," Harry called back.

He ripped the linen off of his pillow and opened the loose floorboard next to his bed and shoved everything he had stored there inside. He went downstairs where the Dursleys were all waiting. Marge was going on about Harry being rotten from the core. Harry interrupted, facing Uncle Vernon.

"I'm not leaving without it," he said.

Uncle Vernon blustered at his tone, but he turned to the cupboard under the stairs and unlocked it. Harry pocketed his wand, feeling immensely more confident with it once more in his possession. He grabbed his trunk and dragged it to the door. Aunt Marge opened it for him. Harry walked out, almost expecting to be attacked the moment he stepped outside, but that was silly. The wards had seemed to extend out about a block and a half past the house.

He turned around, not sure if there was something he should say or do, but the door was already being shut in his face.

It was stupid, he thought, to feel abandoned by the Dursleys at that moment. It was not as though they had ever cared for him. But it didn't stop him from feeling messed up to have been kicked out of the house.

What should he do, where could he go? Neither of his friends were even in the country, and he would only put them in danger besides. He should be hiding somewhere, but he hardly had any money on him, certainly not enough to live on his own until school started. He thought about trying to contact Dumbledore or the ministry, but what if they tried to make the Dursleys take him back.

Did he want to go back? No, that was even more messed up than feeling abandoned by them in the first place, he thought. He would be better off this way anyway. He didn't need them; he would manage on his own.

He would need money, so he'd have to make his way to Diagon Alley. But how would he get there? He would have to fly, he had his broom and his invisibility cloak, but what was he going to do with his trunk? Even if he could tie it to his broom, it would be horribly dangerous to try flying with it unless he used magic to make it lighter. Did he dare? He'd really be in trouble if he got kicked out of the Dursleys and Hogwarts on the same day. But wasn't evading a crazy dark wizard a good justification? But then a sickening thought occurred to him; he had done magic, he had used Greyback's wand. That, though, was definitely justified. He was worrying himself over nothing. Besides, the spell had been so weak, the ministry probably hadn't even picked it up. Still though, what to do with his trunk?

A thought struck him. Aunt Petunia's friend Veronica lived down the street, but Harry knew she was on vacation. The house would be empty. He could leave his trunk in the back shed and then go to Diagon Alley to get money exchanged. Then he could take a taxi back here, pick up his trunk and then go anywhere. His decision made, Harry dragged his trunk down the street and parked it inside Veronica's backyard shed. He had had to climb over the fence and unlock the gate from the other side. Fastening the cloak so that it would not flap around while he flew turned out to be fairly difficult, but in less than fifteen minutes, he was up in the air. Flying wasn't as fun without the wind in his face, but after the day he had had, or rather the past weeks, it was very liberating to leave the ground. Harry had pulled out the broomstick compass that had come with the kit Hermione had gotten him for his birthday, and he knew the general direction of London. It was less than thirty miles away and, on a Nimbus, the trip would be quick indeed.

A few hours later, as Harry started to get very cold from flying so long, he reflected that he had missed a key factor. Finding London had indeed been fast, he had gotten there in less than twenty minutes. Finding the entrance to Diagon Alley in all of London, however, had turned out to be most difficult. Especially since he had very little experience navigating through London in the first place. The sun had set and it was getting dark, and Harry was getting fairly desperate. He was about ready to find a tube station and attempt to recreate his first trip to Diagon Alley with Hagrid, when suddenly, he spotted the familiar sign. The Leakey Cauldron; he had arrived at last.

Touching down, he got off of his broom, but stayed under the cloak. He walked into the pub. He had enough for a meal, so he thought he'd warm up inside before he headed to the bank. He walked up to the counter and called for Tom, the proprietor. When the man just looked around, Harry realized that he was invisible. He pulled off the cloak with a sheepish smile.

"Sorry," he said. "But I..."

"Mr. Potter," the man exclaimed in a whisper. "Oh, you're alive."

"Why wouldn't I be?" Harry asked, whispering with him.

"Why because you were attacked by Fenrir Greyback, and then you disappeared. Everyone’s looking for you," the man said. "Come, and put your cloak back on, I'll take you into the private dining room. You shouldn't be seen; they could be watching out for you." The older man ushered him into the back. Harry hadn't thought anyone would know about the attack.

"Well I escaped," Harry said. "Came here."

"Well thank Merlin," Tom said. He showed Harry into a small dining room and had him sit down. "How ‘bout a bowl of stew while I go contact the ministry, tell them to call off the search." He waved his wand and a steaming bowl appeared in front of Harry. It smelled delicious, and Harry realized that he hadn't eaten since that morning.

"Sounds great," he said. He'd rather not involve the Ministry, but if they were searching for him he supposed it was unavoidable. Tom left and Harry eyed his stew for a minute before he started eating. It was as good as it smelled.

Not five minutes later though, the door burst open, and Harry nearly burst out of his skin. His wand was in his hand in a moment, but he recognized the first man who entered. He almost did a double take when he realized that it was the Minister of Magic. A man in a red robe followed him in and then old Tom followed behind.

"Oh Mr. Potter, I'm so glad to see that you're alright. You've had us most worried," the minister said in a jovial tone that was jarring given the situation.

"I'm sorry," Harry said, "I didn't realize you knew I'd been attacked."

"Oh, but of course we knew. Underage magic near the home of the Boy-Who-Lived. With what's going on. Of course we sent someone to investigate. We thought the worst when we saw that dead muggle, especially when people in the neighborhood reported seeing Fenrir Greyback chasing a boy of your description. Then when we checked with your relatives and they said they hadn't seen you all day. Why, he shouldn't have even been able to find where you live. No no Mr. Potter, we've been most worried indeed. However did you escape?"

"That woman saved me," Harry said sadly. "She'd be alive right now if she hadn't intervened. I managed to get within the wards after he killed her." She really had saved him. And Harry didn't really know why. As it turned out, Marge wasn't the only one the Dursleys had sold on the St. Brutus's story. Most of the neighborhood had heard the gossip. And even if she hadn't heard about the latest rumors, Harry had had a lot of rumors following him for some time. He'd long gotten used to being the pariah of the neighborhood. Maybe she hadn't recognized him. Regardless though, she'd saved him, and she hadn't even thought of herself. Even after she had been attacked herself, she had kept on going. Harry wouldn't have had to ask her what house she was in if she had been a witch. She'd have been a Gryfindor, no doubt. She'd be alive if he had taken a different route.

"How tragic, you must be exhausted. Now Harry, I understand why you thought you had to try to contact the wizarding world, but let's get you home," he said, as though he had solved all of Harry's problems. Harry didn't think that the minister meeting the Dursleys was a good idea at all. Harry didn't think the minister was concerned with a dead muggle.

"Wait," Harry said. "I can't go back."

"Why ever not lad," the minister blustered. "I'm sure you'll be safe there."

"Well..." Harry thought. "It wouldn't be safe for them," Harry said. "Greyback said he'd been waiting for me to leave the wards. What if he sees my uncle on the way to his work, or my aunt on the way to the market? He could hurt them. But if I'm here, he'll stop hanging around the Dursley's home."

"Would he be safe here?" asked Tom.

"Well of course he'll be safe,” said the Minister, suddenly brightening, "That's what I keep telling the public. The Ministry has the situation under control. Diagon Alley is safe. Why, did you look at your dining room Tom? Filled with people, because they know the Ministry will protect them. This isn't the old days with You-Know-Who, these are five individuals who'll soon be caught, you mark my words."

The man in the red robes frowned but he didn't say anything to contradict the Minister of Magic. Tom was nodding though.

"Now," said the Minister. "Dimitri here will take a look at some of those injuries. Greyback certainly put you through the ringer."

"You weren't bitten, were you?" Dimitri spoke for the first time.

"Sir?" Harry asked.

"Greyback didn't bite you, did he?" The man asked.

"No," Harry shook his head. "He tried, probably would have too. But it's like I said. That woman saved me."

He wasn't sure why the man looked at him so seriously while he answered. It made his skin crawl.

"Yes," said the Minister. "Well I'll be off, plenty to do."

With that, Fudge walked out. Dimitri pulled out a bottle of some potion and flicked his wand at it. Some of the potion zipped out and smeared itself on his face. Not at all pleasant, but his face started to feel better.

"Anything else?" the man asked.

"Um, there's some scratches on my arms," Harry said, holding them up. He was pretty sore all over from the car, but it wasn't like anything was broken, and the Auror was looking at him all seriously and Harry just wanted everything to be done with.

His arms received the same treatment and the man left brusquely.

"Alright," Tom said. "Why don't you finish that stew, and I'll get your room ready."

Harry dug into his supper, finally feeling as though he could actually relax. Things were looking up. He wasn't at the Dursleys anymore, and it looked like he'd have the run of Diagon Alley until school started, and Harry would be able to do his homework in peace.

At that thought though, Harry groaned. He had left his trunk in Surrey. He didn't look forward to going to get that. He got up. He'd go tell Tom he had some errands to run in the alley. No need to start another search. Still though, better than one more night with the Dursleys. Though he'd go back and spend the rest of the summer there if he could take back what had happened to Ms. Adler.


IIIIIIIIIIIIIII


"Headmaster, the Potter boy..." Professor Severus Snape started as he ran into the office of Albus Dumbledore.

"Is safe and sound," the old man said calmly. "Or at least he has not been injured seriously or captured. He will, however, be spending the rest of the summer holidays in Diagon Alley."

"What?" Snape demanded, not taking the seat that his mentor indicated to him.

"It seems that after escaping from Fenrir Greyback, Mr. Potter made his way to Diagon Alley. The Minister himself went to see him there, to assure that Harry was alright. Somehow, in the end it was decided to leave Harry at the Leaky Cauldron. It seems that Harry is convinced that his presence on Privet Drive will endanger his family."

"The boy must be behind the wards; he will not be safe in Diagon Alley."

"Alas, I did implore Cornelius to change his mind, but he would not budge. I do believe that he wishes for Harry to be a symbol of the continued safety of the alley. There are of course several Aurors guarding the alley, but I do agree that in this climate, Harry needs more protection. Fenrir Greyback spent twenty years evading the ministry before his capture, and Bellatrix Lestrange would have no qualms killing Harry in front of a dozen Aurors. No, I will not feel well until Harry is once more behind the wards of Hogwarts."

"And until then?" Severus asked.

"Until then, I have faith that you will fulfill your oath to your utmost ability," Albus said with confidence.

Snape groaned.

"Does it grate on you, after all this time?" the headmaster asked.

"Potter grates on me," was Snape's only response.

"Do not worry about your start of term duties, I will purchase any potions that you do not have time to restock."

"I'll be needing more Polyjuice," Snape said as he stalked out of the office.

Being able to walk down the winding path of Diagon Alley was a freedom that he rather enjoyed. The sun was shining, but it was a relatively cool day and the friendly hustle and bustle of the wizarding shopping district gave Harry a vague sense of anonymity. Indeed, he hadn't had anyone stare at him or his forehead since he had walked out the back of the Leaky Cauldron.

It had been a year since he had last walked the alley, and while there were many new products for sale and a few new storefronts, nothing really had changed. Harry wondered if he were to travel back in time a hundred years, if the alley would look as it did now.

Harry saw a silly little children's toy in one of the windows and went over to get a closer look. It was a small figure dancing whimsically about, every few moments it would pop, and take on a new appearance; new clothes, a new face. From its hands, feet, and head, strings led upward, so very high up, where Harry couldn't see. It wasn't anything Harry wanted; it had only caught his eye as a curiosity. The more he looked at it though, the more it made him uncomfortable. He couldn't say why, but the sight was beginning to disturb him. There was a sick sensation in his stomach.

Pop

Black disheveled hair, glasses, green eyes, and a scarred forehead. Harry turned around to see if anyone else was looking at the display window. He turned back around.

Pop

He saw his reflection in the window this time, and suddenly he knew why no one had been staring at Harry Potter. The green eyes and glasses were still there, now shrouded in long, black, greasy hair over a large hooked nose. He gasped when he realized the resemblance. Suddenly it wasn't sunny; a dark cloud rapidly moved in overhead, blocking the sun. The air chilled and his breath fogged up the window in which he was staring at his bizarre appearance. He looked around to see what everyone else thought about the rapid change.

No one seemed to notice, but where previously the hustle and bustle had been pleasant, it was suddenly crowded and overwhelming. There were people milling about everywhere, walking quickly, not stopping to look at the windows.

Pop

Harry turned around to look back into the window. Despite everything else, he was relieved to see that he once more looked like himself. Someone bumped into him, then someone else, neither person turning around to apologize. The stream of people increased, and Harry soon found himself pressed against the side of the building trying to keep out of everyone's way. Someone bowled him over. He fell hard, scraping his palms and knees. He looked up.

This time the man stopped and turned around, and Harry froze. The tall man loomed over him and looked at him with loathing and disgust.

"What are you doing with my face?" James Potter demanded.

Harry gaped at him for a moment. "You gave it to me," he finally said.

"I didn't give my face to a killer," the man said contemptuously.

"No, that wasn't my fault. Greyback killed her," Harry said desperately, still sprawled on the cobbled street.

"You led him right to her," his father said accusingly.

"I tried to warn her; she wouldn't save herself," Harry cried.

"You should have saved her," his father said, his voice laced with disappointment and scorn.

"I tried," Harry said desperately. "The wand didn't work."

"No," his voice thundered. "You didn't make the wand work, you failed. You might as well have killed her yourself. You should be with Greyback now. It was all your fault. You deserve what he did to you and more. You could have stopped him. You had the power to stop him, but you wouldn't let your magic work. It's all your fault, all of it, everything he did, everything you did. You deserve him and worse, and you don't deserve to be my son."

Harry's insides felt as cold as the chilly air around him. "No," he said, though he knew he had no defense. "No, I saved that man. I led Greyback away from him."

"You ran away, you coward," James Potter spat. "I'm glad I'll never have to see you again." He turned away.

"No, wait," Harry called out, his hand outstretched. But no one was there. He was alone in the alley, still sprawled on the ground. He brought his knees up towards his chest, wrapping his arms around himself. He tried very hard to forget what he had just heard. Why couldn't he forget it?

Suddenly, someone grabbed him by his shirt and pulled him up. He found himself pressed up against the window he had previously been looking through, looking into the angry face of Severus Snape.

"You can't forget it though, can you," he hissed. "You can't forget me. You will always know."

"It doesn't matter. You're still nothing to me," Harry shouted into the man's face, not caring how much bigger the man who had him pressed up against the wall was.

"I could have been," he said, now sadly.

"You wouldn't have cared!" Harry accused.

"You'll never know," Snape said, disinterestedly.

"Good!" Harry yelled in his face.

Snape's features twisted in disgust.

"Mudblood," the man spat. Suddenly Snape burst into a thousand fluttering bats who swarmed around Harry, scratching at his face and arms, before disappearing.

No sooner had the bats gone then Harry saw something moving out of the corner of his eye. He turned in time to see a woman with red hair disappear around a bend in the alley.

He tried to call out for her to wait, but nothing came out. He started running after her. She would understand, she would still care.

He turned the same bend she had disappeared behind, just in time to see her disappear around another. His voice was gone, if he could only just say something she would come for him, she would find him. On and on he ran, never quite catching up, never seeing more than a glimpse of her around the corner, never able to call out to her, but he had to keep running. He could never stop running.

He turned a corner and ran into...something. The chill was gone, and he knew he didn't have to run anymore. He knew he was safe. A sigh escaped his lips and he knew he could talk. He knew he didn't need to say anything. He closed his eyes and everything faded.

Waking up was gradual. It took him a moment to gather his bearings. He was in his room, in the Leaky Cauldron. It had all been a dream.

Of course it had been, he thought. His parents were dead and Snape didn't know anything. Neither of those things were going to change. He briefly thought about what his father would have thought if he had seen what had happened the day before in Little Whinging before dismissing the thought. He knew he hadn't killed that woman, Greyback had. Still though, he felt bad that she had died because of him. James Potter would have probably fought Greyback from the get-go. Harry wished he still had Greyback's wand. He wanted to know if the wand had just been a poor match or if he, Harry, had failed in casting the spell against Greyback. There was nothing for it though, he'd just have to make do not knowing.

He rubbed the last of the sleep out of his eyes and scratched behind one of his ears before he looked at the clock. Time For Lunch, it said in blurry letters. He'd slept through the morning. Of course, he had been up all night getting his trunk. That, luckily, had gone off without a hitch, though Tom hadn't exactly been happy when he realized that Harry had gone back to Surrey, and Harry had now promised multiple times not to leave Diagon Alley.

Harry grabbed his glasses and got ready for his day. Pulling a school robe on over his muggle clothes, Harry made his way downstairs and greeted Tom who had him seated at the bar with a sandwich and chips moments later.

"So what did they do?" Harry asked Tom as the man cleaned up behind the bar after the lunch crowd. He really had slept in rather late.

"Who?" Tom asked, though Harry thought he knew very well who.

"The five who escaped from prison," he said. "I think I've heard of one of them being a follower of Voldemort." Tom flinched which Harry tried to ignore. "But what about the rest of them?"

"Well, it really isn't a very pleasant story now, is it. They were all supporters of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. All of them except Greyback were Death Eaters," Tom said.

"Death Eaters?" Harry asked.

"His most loyal followers, the ones who killed for him. Not that Greyback didn't kill for him, but He wasn't going to give his mark to a werewolf, now was he?"

Harry's heart skipped a beat. "A werewolf?"

"Yes," Tom said. "Worse than following You-Know-Who, he's been a menace for some time. Purposely turning people, especially children. He had a pack for a while, those were bad times besides all of You-Know-Who's business. Most of them were captured though or killed. Those five who escaped were all captured in the weeks after you got rid of Him. They all committed atrocities, I don't mind not telling you about over your lunch, or ever for that matter. The Aurors will deal with them now, don't you worry about them. You just stick to the alley; they won't show their faces here where everyone would know them."

Harry readily agreed not to go out into muggle London while he thought about what he had just heard. It was easy enough for Tom to tell him not to worry, but Harry had a werewolf after him who wanted to turn him. Did Greyback blame Harry for getting caught? Did he think he would never have been caught if Voldemort had never been vanquished? The man had talked about someone else, someone who had cared about Harry. Had this other person captured Greyback? If so, who, and where were they now?

"Well now, off with ya," Tom said. "Go enjoy the alley."

Harry realized he had finished his food. He thanked Tom and walked out back, tapping the brick wall to get into the alley.

Much as in his dream, the alley hadn't changed much since the year prior. Harry's first stop was Quality Quidditch Supplies of course, but by the time he returned to the Leakey Cauldron that evening, he had explored the whole length of the alley, something he hadn't been able to do the two other times he had been in the alley.

There had been something odd though. He had begrudgingly gotten used to the red robed Aurors every which way looking at him, as though they were waiting for someone to attack him. There was someone else though, or several someone else's who were doing the opposite. It had taken him a while to notice the first one, but by the time he reached Madame Malkin's, he realized that the same sandy haired man had been in his vicinity for a while. Oddly though, he seemed to be watching everything but Harry. The man was constantly scanning the crowd and the rooftops, looking into every shadow and side way.

About an hour after he had noticed him, another man took his place when Harry wasn't looking. Still always in Harry's vicinity, still looking every which way, with the same blank disinterested look on his face. So Harry figured the Aurors who were supposed to be watching the alley were watching Harry, and whoever was supposed to be watching him was watching the alley. Harry figured if whoever was supposed to keep an eye on him didn't want to introduce themselves, then Harry wasn't about to strike up a conversation. It wasn't as though he needed a child minder.

He made it back to the Leakey Cauldron a little after the dinner rush and, thoroughly exhausted, ate his supper and went to bed.


IIIIIIIIIII


Even though he started to spend most of his time catching up on his summer homework, the days following his arrival at the alley seemed to fly by pretty quickly. It helped that said homework was being done worry free, now that he was away from the Dursleys. It helped even more that there were a few denizens of the alley who occasionally helped him with said homework. Though he'd never say so to Ron, or Hermione for that matter, it was actually enjoyable to do a History of Magic essay seated outside a shop on a lazy Sunday afternoon. Of course, it helped that said shop was an open aired ice cream parlor whose proprietor was an amateur historian who made learning about the inception of the International Confederation of Wizards sound exciting. It also really helped that said proprietor, Florean Fortiscue gave Harry free sundays while Harry worked out in the open.

"Now you see," Mr. Fortiscue said excitedly. "The death of Nathaniel Gladwell didn't only clear the way for Elton Finch to lead the delegation from Scotland, it brought some of his biggest opponents onto his side. Of course, Finch would be the one to bring forward the Dewey-Trent Compact, which many historians think was the only thing to stand in the way, later, of the Dark Lord Rhineheart. A century of history altered, because one man found himself in a duel the night before the first confederation."

"What was the duel about?" Harry asked between hastily scribbled notes.

"Ah, now that is a story, isn't it. You see, there had been a gala the night prior to the duel at the Gladwell estate. Now who was it?" Mr. Fortiscue ran into the back of his shop and started searching for a scroll. He came back, scroll in hand. "Ah yes, according to the scholar Eaton Thump, Miss Julia McKay, betrothed to Gladwell's soon to be killer, Aston Bradley showed up to the party wearing robes of a similar color and design to Mrs. Gladwell. Mr. Gladwell came up on her from behind, mistook her for his wife, and became quite familiar with her before he realized his mistake. Bradley demanded satisfaction and found it the next morning. Gladwell had been something of an isolationist, and would never have helped strengthen the ties between the northern and southern factions of Britain. Everything changed because two women had the same taste in evening attire."

Mr. Fortiscue had a broad grin on his face as he told the story, Harry could tell he really loved the complexities of history.

"Are there a lot of stories like that?" Harry asked. "Where something small made a big impact on history."

"Why Mr. Potter, if there's one thing I've found while studying history, it's that we are all just one mistimed sneeze away from causing the next Great War, or from stopping one. Now have you ever heard the tale of Alal Myre and the great dragon escape of ten eighty-eight?"

Harry was about to answer in the negative when a small gaggle of children entered the shop with one very tired looking witch. Fortiscue's eyes lit up even more and he was soon behind the counter, happily talking to his customers, his hands flying about, assembling their decadent confections.

"Ah hah," Mr. Fortiscue's voice carried over the babble of the children in response to something one of them had said. "And just who's birthday is it?"

"Mine," said a little boy, raising his hand. "I turned seven," he said, holding up six fingers before correcting himself. Harry smiled to himself. Even with the Dursleys, there'd been an innocence to being seven that he missed. He'd lost it soon enough, growing up in that household.

"Well now, what flavor does the birthday boy want."

"Strawberry," the boy said excitedly.

"Well that strawberry's just going to have to come with my extra special birthday treacle." The boy's eyes lit up as the sugary syrup was drizzled over the ice cream. The frozen treat was topped with whipped cream and handed to the little boy. A few minutes later the children and the mother of the birthday boy headed out to Quality Quidditch, the children all excitedly talking about their favorite teams.

"Now, where were we?" Mr. Fortiscue asked.

"Dragons," Harry said.

"Ah yes, dragons," The historian said, hurrying to the back to his scrolls. "Have you ever wondered where the Hogwarts motto came from?"


IIIIIIIIIIII


A couple of hours later, Harry walked out of the ice cream parlor with his book bag over his shoulder. Spotting a likely candidate for this hour’s watcher, Harry gave a cheery wave and was quite surprised to get a very cheerful wave back. The watcher had never waved back before, or even acknowledged Harry's existence. Harry looked around for another likely candidate but didn't spot any. The odd thing was, the watcher never looked the same, but always acted the same. Over the days since Harry had taken up residence in the alley, there had always been a watcher when he left his room, whether he was in the dining room of the Leakey Cauldron or all the way at the other end of the alley. Yet the watcher changed every hour, and he had never seen the same watcher twice. It was always someone new, and he never saw them make a switch. He only ever knew who it was because they all acted the same. The same blank expression, the same roving eyes, the same fluid gait, always ignoring Harry when it was him they were following.

The Aurors littering the alley were a different story though, Harry knew most of them by sight if not by the name on their badges, and many of them would give him a polite nod as they kept their watch on the alley.

Harry passed Tooling's Charm Stop, a store he had only visited twice, but always caught his eye, and was often on his mind. Jane Tooling owned and worked the shop, where she performed complex charms work for clients and sold a variety of charmed items. He had gone in with some questions for his charms homework. He hadn't needed much, he was decent at charms, but he had been fascinated with the variety of useful objects in the store; items that were very handy for an underage wizard who couldn't do magic outside of school. Still though, he had lived so long without money, as though he were truly impoverished, that while often sorely tempted, he rarely splurged on items he thought were pricy, even when he could afford to. Harry had made one exception though, an item he would have dearly liked to have had when he was escaping privet drive, a shrinking sticker. He could just slap it on his trunk and then put it in his pocket.

However, it wasn't the many fascinating items that kept him thinking about the shop. The thing was, the spell his mother had written about, the one that would tell him if the charms that managed his hemophilia needed to be strengthened, was something that he could easily ask Madame Tooling to cast on him for a small fee, but then Harry wasn't sure he wanted anyone to know that he had the illness. What if someone put it all together. He didn't want anyone to know that he was in any way shape or form related to Snape, and he would be damned if he would give anyone reason to talk like that about his mother. It was just a little maddening not knowing if he was on the brink of bleeding to death or not. Harry passed the shop without going in.

Harry made his way further down the alley and stopped at the apothecary. He didn't spend half as much time there as he did at the ice cream parlor, for obvious reasons, but Mr. Ashwinder had been a big help in understanding his potions homework. He didn't have the same flare for describing potions that Mr. Fortiscue had for history, but he certainly knew the subject well, and he had a lot more patience for questions than Professor Snape did.

"Now what questions do you have for me today Mr. Potter?" Mr. Ashwinder asked as Harry entered the shop.

"Umm," Harry started trying to remember the terms from his book. "I'm having trouble understanding Bates third formula."

"Howard Bates or Erman Bates?" Mr. Ashwinder asked.

"There's two of them?" Harry asked.

"They were brothers, both of them potions researchers, and both of them, unfortunately, have third formulas."

"Um," Harry pulled out his potions book and flipped through, finding the right page. "Erman Bates," he said.

"Ah, yes, Erman Bate's third formula is used to adjust the aqueous ratio in potions. Now, at school, you brew potions in a highly controlled environment with highly standardized ingredients. As well, most of the potions you will have brewed so far are not highly sensitive to the subtle differences. But when you brew some of the more volatile potions, you must make adjustments based on elevation, ambient moisture, temperature, and the aqueous density of the potions ingredients used."

"The book didn't really explain how to use the formula," Harry said.

"What book are you using?" Mr. Ashwinder asked.

"Intermediate Potions Brewing for Students," Harry said looking at the cover of his book. "It's the book assigned for the class."

"That book used to be called The Home Reference Guide for Intermediate Potions Brewers," Mr. Ashwinder said with a grimace. "It was written as a reference guide for those already competent with potions. I dare say the publisher changed the name to expand their sales."

Harry could just imagine Snape reading the book, thinking that it made sense to him, and assigning it to his students. That was, by and large, how he taught.

"Do you have a book that could better explain the formula?" Harry asked.

"Top shelf on the right, Anna Morrellie's Subtle Science. That should be a good supplement to what you have."

Harry walked over to the book section and quickly found what he was looking for, glad for an excuse to buy something. While Mr. Fortiscue and Mr. Ashwinder were both very knowledgeable about their respective subjects, Harry could tell that Mr. Ashwinder wasn't as enthusiastic to be playing the summer tutor as Mr. Fortiscue, so Harry always made sure to buy something when he came to pester the man so he wouldn't feel like he was being too much a bother. He did have several more stirring rods, beakers and potions ingredients than he really needed, though.

Harry wondered how many other students would be able to accurately explain Bate's third principle, and what Snape's face would look like when he read Harry's summer essays. With Mr. Ashwinder's help, they were turning out rather well. Snape would probably still find a reason to give him a bad grade.

"Does Professor Snape ever buy stuff here?" Harry asked. He had been wondering if he would run into the man at some point in the alley. Really, he half expected to see the man every time he visited the apothecary. Not that he wanted to, of course. The less he had to see Snape the better. He looked at the door a moment wondering if the man would suddenly walk in.

"Oh, he drops in from time to time. Though he owl orders mostly. Waldorf's in Hogsmead may be more convenient, but they can't beat my selection," he said proudly.

Harry payed for the book and walked towards the door. "Thanks for the help Mr. Ashwinder," he called over his shoulder, right before he walked into someone.

"Mr. Potter," Snape's cold drawl cut off the apology that was on the tip of his tongue. Harry's head snapped back around to face the man who now towered over him. "I should think that with people out at this very moment for your blood, you would have the sense to watch where you are going."

Harry just stared up at him, frozen, his mind blank. No witty reply coming to mind and his tongue locked up. Their eyes locked for a moment until Snape broke away with a smirk. He walked past Harry as if he had forgotten that he was there. Harry turned to follow him with his gaze before he shook himself and walked out the door angry with himself.

He wasn't some little kid, and he wasn't afraid of Snape or anything, so why had he frozen up just from seeing him?

Harry walked down the street towards the Leaky Cauldron with a scowl on his face. He wished he had said something to the man, though he didn't know what.


IIIIIIIIIIII


Of course, he would have to run into the boy on the one day off I've had in over a week, Severus Snape thought, his dower face souring.

"It must be nice having students like that in your classroom," Alexander Ashwinder said from behind the counter.

"I beg your pardon," 'Xander wasn't much one for being facetious, and Severus usually attempted to reign himself in when he dealt with the man, so it was odd to hear him speak so.

"Students like Mr. Potter," 'Xander said in all seriousness. "He's quite studious and inquisitive. He's been in here almost every day with questions about potions making and ingredient properties. It must be nice to have students who care about the subject."

"I do hope you haven't been doing his homework for him," Severus glowered. It would be just like Potter to take the easiest route and get all of the answers from someone else rather than a book. Since Granger wasn't around, he supposed the boy had turned to bothering the people of Diagon Alley for the answers to his summer work.

"Of course not," 'Xander glared. "I'd be charging him for that. I just point him in the right direction. He just bought Subtle Science for further reference."

"Morrellie spoon feeds the reader; students need to work for knowledge, they need to use their brains."

'Xander chuckled. "That explains it. How did the moonglow work out for you?" he asked, changing the subject before Severus could ask what had been explained.

"I'm sure it would have worked out fine if the fire bulbs hadn't been disturbed by our resident poltergeist the evening they were supposed to bloom," he said with a scowl. Moonglow was very rare and didn't last more than a few days, and fire bulbs only bloomed once every month. It would be a while before he would be able to attempt the Starlight Elixir again.

"I could have had some on hand if you'd ordered ahead of time."

"I prefer to collect my own ingredients when I can," Severus sighed. "That being said, I've heard rumor that Arlington Grove managed to get a good cross of nightshade and kingsbane this year and I need you to place an order for me. With a reputable cultivator," he added.

"Don't want to make the trip out there and collect some yourself?" 'Xander asked with a wry grin.

"For an ingredient this rare and as difficult as it is to collect it properly, I would gladly put up with a trip to the states. However, I do not currently have the time to do so." It was entirely Potter's fault that he did not have the time, and if some incompetent American cultivator sent him bad ingredients, he would gladly find an excuse to give the boy a detention.

"I'll see what I can do, and owl you when I've got something set up. Did you need anything else? Maybe some wolfsbane," he said pointing to a shelf that was almost empty.

"Wolfsbane? Why should I need any of that?" Severus asked.

"Well there is a savage werewolf on the loose you know," 'Xander said with a grin.

Severus took another glance at the almost bare shelf. "I suppose the good witches and wizards of Britain think that belladonna will protect them from Greyback."

"I keep telling them they'd practically have to shove it down his throat to do any good, but they still buy it like it's going to keep them safe," 'Xander seemed to find the whole thing very amusing.

"And you're selling it at a galleon an ounce?" Severus asked, having noticed the sign below the plant that grew like a weed.

"The market adjusted, and I adjusted with it," 'Xander said with a shrug.

Severus shook his head with a grimace, the world would be such a better place if it wasn't filled with incompetent idiots. 'Xander of course just thought the whole thing to be some sort of joke.

"Well then, I look forward to your owl," he said, turning to go. "And do take care. You may be unlikely to cross paths with Greyback, but Beckett would gladly terrorize the alley."

"Now a Death Eater would have to be insane to set foot in the alley with as many Aurors as there are keeping us safe here."

"Beckett is insane," Severus said as he walked out.


IIIIIIIIIIIII


Disturbingly, Harry had been all but unable to stop thinking about Snape that evening. The man was less than nothing to him. But he had been something to his mother, Lily. What had she seen in him? Was there something he hadn't seen in the man, something that would have made him worthy of his mother's love.

In the letter, his mother had said that Snape had had a horrible childhood. Maybe she had used that to excuse his horrible personality. But there had to have been some redeeming quality about him, or else, what did that say about his mother.

Besides, Harry had had a rather horrid childhood, and he wasn't anything like Snape. Though there was one area where Harry had to admit he paralleled with Snape. Snape had stopped Harry from falling off of his broom in first year. He had gone out of his way to save Harry, like Harry had saved Ginny during his second year. It may have been that Snape was just trying to settle an old score with James Potter when he did it, but that had to say something for the man, didn't it? Of course, then there was the fact that both of them had worked in Harry's first year to stop Voldemort from getting the Philosophers Stone.

Yet these things only said that Snape wasn't all bad, not that he was a good guy. He certainly wasn't a nice guy, and when it came to qualities that Harry looked for in a father, not being the absolute worst person on Earth wasn't really a qualifier. Not that he was looking for some sort of father figure. He was beyond needing anything like that. He didn't need a father, and he certainly didn't need Snape.

Two days later, and the third time since his run in with Snape that he found himself leaving the apothecary without seeing the man and he was annoyed with himself for being disappointed.

"Hey Harry, over here," A familiar voice called out as Harry was walking out of the apothecary. He turned around and spotted Oliver Wood, the Gryffindor Quiditch Team Captain.

"Hey Olie," Harry said, running over to the older teen, banishing the thoughts that had been mulling in his head.

"Have you been to Quality Quidditch yet?" Oliver asked.

"Only about a dozen times since I got here," Harry said with a roll of his eyes. He might not be as enthusiastic about the sport as Oliver, but Quiditch was still the most fun he had ever had, full stop."

"No, I meant today," Oliver said, grabbing Harry's arm and enthusiastically dragging him a few shops down. "You haven't seen it yet."

"Seen what," said a slightly exasperated Harry.

"This," said Oliver with reverence, stopping in front of the Quality Quiditch display window.

"Wow," said Harry.

"I know, right?" Oliver said, with a goofy grin. "She's beautiful, isn't she?"

"Yeah," Harry said. It was. Harry had never seen a broom like it before, and he owned a racing broom. "The Firebolt," the blazing letters proudly proclaimed.

"I've been reading about it in Witch Broomstick for weeks," Oliver said. It's supposed to far outstrip the Nimbus line. Today's the first time they've been publicly available, the leagues have been buying them as fast as they can make them. Can you imagine if our team all had these? Or even just you Harry. You'd be unbeatable."

"Price upon request," Harry pointed out, having read the bottom of the poster board behind the broomstick. "I think even Lucious Malfoy would choke on the price of equipping a whole team." Though Harry might be able to afford one, if he wanted to drain his vault. It was actually really rather tempting when Harry thought about it.

"Yeah, but just imagine," Oliver said.

"Yeah well, just imagine Slytherin after we kick their butts for a second year in a row, with the same teams and the same brooms," Harry said with a grin.

"We'll it's Hufflepuff I'm worried about this year," Oliver said.

"Hufflepuff? We steamrolled them last time," Harry said.

"Last time was two years ago, it's practically a whole new team, and Diggory's no slouch," Oliver said, after he figured out the muggle word.

"Diggory?" Harry asked, unfamiliar with the Hufflepuff player.

"He made seeker last year, now he's captain of the team this year," Oliver said.

"He made captain after one year?"

"From what I've heard he was practically captain last year. Jenkins was so busy with NEWTS, Diggory pretty much took over all of the responsibilities."

"Is he a good seeker?" Harry asked.

"He's a bit big for the position, but he's a really good flyer. Really, he's a bit like you. Though you're better. I've never seen anyone outside the league fly like you," Oliver said, ruffling Harry's Hair. Harry blushed at the compliment.

"So, what about Ravenclaw this year?" Harry asked

"Another team we haven't played in a while," Oliver said. "Actually, come to think about it, you've never played them. But don't worry, I took careful notes last year during their games against Hufflepuff and Slytherin. Thing is, they'll have a new captain this year and two new players to boot. We'll have to wait and see who gets chosen during their try outs."

"Anyone I should look out for?" Harry asked.

"Brian Turner has a good arm, and he always targets seekers more than the chasers," Oliver said.

"As long as no one curses the bludger," Harry said. "I think the Weasleys can keep me safe."

"Their seeker's not bad," Oliver went on with his assessment. "Not great, mind, but definitely not bad. Her name's Cho Chang"

"Well we'll beat them all this year," Harry said. Though the last two years, something had always come up to stop them from playing all of the games of the season.

Oliver shook his head. "This is my last year Harry. It doesn't matter that we have the best team. We have to train the hardest, we have to want it more than anyone else."

"That shouldn't be any trouble, with you as our captain," Harry said with a grin. "We won't let you leave Hogwarts without the cup. Even if we have to sabotage your grades so you'll have to come back next year."

"Don't tempt me," Oliver said.

"Let's stop looking at brooms we can't afford and go get some ice cream," Harry said.

Oliver shrugged and they turned towards Fortescue's.

"So are you going to go for the league when you graduate?" Harry asked.

"Of course," Oliver said. "I've already..." He stopped talking with an abrupt yell of "Hey!" as a stranger in a cloak barged in between them, bumping into Harry.

Harry stumbled and the stranger grabbed his arm to steady him, or so he thought. The next moment, he was being roughly turned around, so he could face the man who had grabbed him. Harry tried to grab for his wand, but found his whole torso wrapped up in the man's large arms. He looked up, and gasped.

Though the face was different, there was no mistaking those sharp pointy teeth, or the predatory grin. It was Greyback.

"Activate," Greyback said, and Harry suddenly felt a tug behind his naval. Suddenly there was a bright flash and a bang and Harry and Greyback were flung apart violently. As Harry flew through the air, he watched as Greyback disappeared into nothing with a furious look on his face.

The landing on top of a display table of used books was very rough, but Harry was up on unsteady feet with his wand in his hand as soon as he had his bearing.

Rough hands grabbed him and he brought his wand up, a hex on his lips until he saw who it was. It was his watcher. The man didn't say a word. He just looked Harry up and down, let go, and walked away, blending into the crowd of onlookers. Two red robed Aurors were making their way through the throng towards Harry. Oliver was suddenly in front of Harry.

"Are you all right?" Oliver asked.

"Yeah," Harry said. "What happened? How'd we get blasted apart like that?"

"It was that same man who came up to you just now, he cast something at the two of you."

"What happened to Greyback? That didn't look like apparition."

"That was Greyback?" Oliver asked.

Harry nodded.

"Well that looked like a portkey, he was probably trying to drag you with him when he activated it," Oliver explained.

Harry was about to ask what a portkey was, when the Aurors arrived. The two boys were separated, and Harry was taken to the Leakey Cauldron, while the whole of Diagon Alley and the surrounding area were searched.'


IIIIIIIIIII


There was hardly anyone in the Leakey Cauldron when Harry woke up the next morning. He looked around as he walked to his normal seat at the bar, as if he would find all of the patrons who usually busied the pub hiding behind one of the tables. Of course, he didn't need to look far for his watcher, he tried giving a wave and was rewarded by being completely ignored.

"Where is everyone?" he asked Tom as he took his seat. Tom he noticed looked fairly grim.

"Ah, well, there was an incident in Hogsmeade yesterday evening. One of the Death Eaters," Tom didn't much look like he wanted to carry on.

"What happened, was anyone hurt?" Harry asked.

Tom hesitated.

"Oy, I thought this came with three eggs, not two," someone said across the room.

"Ah, be right over," Tom called back. "Here you go," he said to Harry. Harry watched Tom as he started dishing up a plate of breakfast for the him. He didn't come back to the bar while Harry was eating.

On his way out of the Leakey Cauldron, he passed by his watcher.

"Thanks," Harry said, knowing he wouldn't get any response.

The two Aurors monitoring traffic into Diagon Alley didn't try to stop Harry; he still had the run of the alley, though now he had to wear a necklace with a charm to block portkeys and apparition. A Pizio Gamma charm, they had called it. Harry had learned all about portkeys the night before while he waited for the Aurors to finish their work.

Harry tapped the bricks to get through the wall and found that the alley was similarly deserted. He thought there might just be more Aurors than there were shoppers. He didn't need to look to see that his watcher had followed him out; walking as if he had absolutely nothing to do with Harry. He wondered what would happen if he took off running, or if he tried to head down Knockturn Alley.

There was a news stand not far from the Leaky Cauldron, and it didn't take Harry long to see what had even the Aurors on watch in the Alley looking grim.

'Hogsmead Auror Adjunct Office Incinerated by Death Eater,' the headline said. Harry just stared at it for a moment before he quietly bought a copy and went to read it in his room at the Leaky Cauldron. He didn't feel like spending the day roaming the alley.

Three Aurors and ten office workers had been killed by Fiend Fire. A few people had escaped with minor injuries. The article noted that it was lucky so many had been deployed at the time or more might have been in the building when it was attacked. The Aurors thought that Beckett was behind the attack, since Fiend Fire was what he had used to attack the muggle museum.

Harry's attempts to work on his homework that day were frequently interrupted with daydreams about running into Beckett in the alley. These turned into thoughts about Greyback and the rest of the Death Eaters. What was stopping any of them from setting the Leakey Cauldron ablaze like they had the Auror building? Was he putting everyone in danger just by being here?

By the end of the day, Harry realized that how he saw the wizarding world had been changing since he was eleven. When he'd been younger, and going to Hogwarts for the first time, everything had felt like jumping into a fairy tale. A magic castle, an evil wizard. He had seen the wizarding world with a rather simplistic view, and anything that didn't fit into it had seemed distant. Now it wasn't just a magic school and an evil wizard. It was a magical community, with a government and prisons and a police force. That evil wizard had an organization, the Death Eaters, and right at that moment they were lurking in the shadows, waiting to strike. At least one of them was waiting to strike at Harry.

That night he dreamed of a massive world where he was very small. Every way he looked, something lurked in the shadows. Harry walked up so he was right next to one of the towering buildings before he suddenly leapt back in fright. Where his fingers touched, the building caught ablaze. The fire was spreading quickly. He took a few more steps back, only to look at the ground in horror. Wherever his feet landed, they left fire in their wake. The fire spread like little rivers running through the cobblestone. The fire was coming for him. He turned and started to run. The buildings around the first one were on fire too. He ran and he ran, leaving footprints of spreading fire behind him. Whenever he looked over his shoulder, everything behind him was in flames. He ran and ran, but he was so very small, and he could not go very fast. Suddenly the fire was all around him, he had nowhere left to run.

Harry woke to Hedwig nibbling on his ear. She did this from time to time, when he had bad dreams. Harry stroked her feathers for a while, half awake, half asleep, before he fell into a restless sleep.


IIIIIIIII


When Harry woke the next morning, he knew what he had to do. If crazy murderers were after him, then he had no business putting anyone else in danger. He could just imagine the Leakey Cauldron in flames with a laughing Death Eater outside, or someone like Mr. Fortescue meeting the same fate at Greyback's wand as that woman had. He was putting everyone around him in danger and he needed to leave.

He hadn't ever really unpacked, so getting ready was quick and easy. He placed the shrinking sticker on his trunk and slipped the miniature into his pocket. He turned to Hedwig, he'd have to leave the cage, he should have gotten more stickers.

"Fly to somewhere nearby, then come find me this evening, I should be wherever I'm going by then," he told his owl, who was giving him a disapproving look. Harry flung his invisibility cloak over his body and made his way downstairs. Tom probably wouldn't come to see why Harry hadn't been to breakfast for a couple of hours, at which point everyone would find out that The-Boy-Who-Lived, was no longer in Diagon Alley. Everyone would be safer if the guy with the target on his back was nowhere to be found.

Harry walked out the door to his room and said goodbye to the place that had been a rather nice temporary home.


IIIIIIIIII


Sitting in the dining room of the Leakey Cauldron, Severus could feel that the Polyjuice Potion he had previously imbibed was wearing off. He threw the hood of his cloak over his head, applied a notice me not charm to himself, and then drank from one of the potions vials inside of his pocket. He stood up and left some money on the table as the changes began to start. He felt his skin ripple, his hair shortened, and he could feel his whole body shrink slightly as he assumed a new form. The process over, he walked over to another table and sat down, removing the charm and lowering the hood. He didn't have to wait long.

"Good morning, welcome to the Leakey Cauldron. What can I get for you?" Tom asked, having walked up to the table.

"Coffee, black," Severus said, and then proceeded to act as though the man wasn't there. The bartender liked to draw guests into conversations, and Severus wasn't going to have any of that. Old Tom walked off and returned with a coffee which he set on the table.

Severus scowled; Potter was usually up well before Severus had to take another dose. The boy hadn't left the Leakey Cauldron after he had read the Prophet, and Severus wondered if he planned to do the same again. Of course, the boy had still come down for meals, so it seemed that the Potter spawn was having a lie in. Either that or he was up to no good. It would be just like him to decide he had to stop Greyback or Beckett, like he had the Stone and the Chamber. His ego and Gryffindor stupidity would likely leave him compelled to do something himself, especially if he ever heard about Black.

No sooner did he think about the cursed man, than he realized that something was off. He paused and tried to take in the whole room. There was something that didn't belong. Footsteps, but no one was up and walking. He closed his eyes, trying to pinpoint the sound. Someone was invisible. He thought of the staircase, where anyone trying to get at the boy would have to go, but the footsteps were not going towards the stairs, they were moving towards the door. Potter, he thought, with a sneer on his face. Potter in his invisibility cloak. How had Albus known?! The door opened, seemingly of its own accord. He got up quickly and caught the door as it was closing, and walked past the two Aurors stationed outside, hidden from muggle eyes.

He couldn't hear any footsteps going either way on the street, but out of the corner of his eye, he saw a loose page from a newspaper flatten on the sidewalk. He turned and walked quickly but silently towards the paper. Soon he could hear soft footsteps ahead of him, and he followed a while, until the two of them were in front of an alleyway. His arm swung wide in front of him, colliding with something unseen, he grabbed it, an arm, and dragged it and its owner into the alley. There was a small struggle until the invisible figure froze and said, "oh," in Potters voice. Severus reached out and pulled the invisibility cloak off of Potter's head. The boy looked upset and anxious, he kept glancing towards the street, he clearly didn't like having been dragged into an alleyway by a stranger, but he didn't seem overly afraid of Severus.

"What were you thinking, leaving your protection, you fool? I suppose it is no concern of yours that half the Auror force is keeping you safe, or that two days ago, a feral werewolf tried to abduct you," he hissed at the boy.

"Well that's just it, isn't it? They should be protecting everyone else and trying to catch all those convicts, shouldn't they, not protecting me. And Greyback can't try to attack me if he doesn't know where I am," the boy said, as if this was obvious.

"You just don't think, you never think Potter.." he paused at the boy's intensely puzzled look.

"Professor..." the boy began, and Severus's hand was over his mouth in a flash.

"Again, you just don't think. I am disguised for a reason," he said through clenched teeth. No one could get him as angry as this boy could, not so quickly. "Put this on," he told the boy. "Stay silent, and we will discuss this back at the Leakey cauldron." It wouldn't do to stay in this unprotected alley any longer.

The boy scowled but he threw the cloak back on. Severus of course didn't trust the boy at all. His hand on the boys shoulder he jabbed his wand at the boy’s chest and incanted a quick tethering charm, usually used by parents of small children, but useful in other endeavors. He would make sure the boy followed him back if he had to drag him there. Potter of course put up a small protest, but Severus silenced him with a flick of his wand and started to walk towards the Leakey Cauldron. The boy followed without giving any more trouble.

They soon entered the wizarding pub and Severus sat down in a corner booth and cast a number of privacy charms.

"Remove that damned cloak," he said to the boy who he had heard take the seat opposite himself. The boy was glaring at him. He gestured towards his mouth petulantly. Severus sneered and removed the silencing charm and the tether.

"Look, thanks for saving me from Greyback the other day, but you don't need to watch me anymore. I'm just putting everyone else at risk just sitting here. I need to go somewhere else; I need to hide out until I can go back to Hogwarts. That pyromaniac could set the whole Leakey Cauldron on fire."

"The Leakey Cauldron is protected, you are protected, which you would not be if you were out on your own. Once they realized you were outside of any wards, they could start rituals to track you and find you, or are you capable enough to block such magic?"

"If I keep moving, they won't be able to catch me, all of these Aurors are just sitting around, doing nothing but guarding me. They should be catching those Death Eaters."

"Those Aurors and more would be looking for you, instead of looking for Beckett if you went missing. The alley would then become much less guarded and would then be a nice soft target for Beckett."

"Well that's stupid," Harry said angrily. "I'm just one kid, they can't just throw the manhunt away to look for me just because of something that happened when I was a baby."

"It doesn't work like that Potter," Severus sneered. "You can't just use your celebrity when it's convenient and then expect everyone to ignore it when you want. Do you even realize what you did when you asked the Minister to let you stay here?"

Harry shook his head.

"You are the symbol of a safe wizarding world. The minister wants you right here, showing the rest of the wizarding world that everything is safe and sound. Have you even been reading the prophet, or do you even care what happens outside of your own tiny insignificant world?"

The boy glared at him but didn't offer any words of defense and Severus smirked. "Daily stories about the Boy-Who-Lived enjoying the alley, letting the world know that the ministry has everything under control, and that it is safe for everyone to go about their daily lives ignoring the fact that the ministry is no closer to catching anyone than they were before they all managed to get wands for themselves. No Potter, the minister will not let you disappear, I doubt he'll even let you hide in your room for another day."

"I wasn't hiding," The boy said defensively.

"More the fool you if you weren't," Severus said. "Now have I made myself clear? You won't try to leave again?"

The boy nodded. "This is stupid," he said. "It's like they care more about what everyone thinks than they do about catching those people."

"And yet we would not be in this mess if you had not decided to play the martyr and just stayed put behind the blood wards. Now, you're going to get up, leave this booth, and go about your day. Keep that damned cloak in your pocket and use it if anything goes wrong. Do not try to apprehend anyone, and for Merlin's sake Potter, stop waving every time you see me, you cretin."

Potter glared at him for a moment, and Severus was ready for another argument, but then the boy got up and walked away, shoving his cloak into his pocket, not looking back.


IIIIIIIIII


Walking away, Harry did his best to bury the anger coursing through him. No one could get under his skin as well as Snape. If he was honest with himself though, he was angrier with the situation than anything. It wasn't his fault he had been kicked out of his house. Not that he was about to tell Snape anything about that. Probably the worst thing though was that Snape had been right about just about everything. Harry had found out he had been living in a trap, a canary in a gilded cage with a hole in the top and a cat circling below.

Yet beyond all of that, there was something else. The man's hurtful words were usually enough to make Harry angry, but after this encounter, Harry realized that he was angry because of who Snape was, he was embarrassed to have looked a fool in front of the man. It made sense in a stupid sort of way. The man was like some sort of bastardized sperm donor, but Harry didn't feel that he should feel any different about the man, he wasn't any real sort of father. Harry didn't need a father anymore and he certainly didn't want Snape as one. The man was nothing but the worst teacher at Hogwarts.

So why had Snape's contemptuous sneer left Harry with a hollow feeling inside?

Besides all of that, what was the man doing acting the bodyguard? He had already satisfied any debt he may have owed James Potter. Harry briefly entertained the horrifying thought that perhaps Snape knew of their relationship, but quickly dismissed it. If Snape knew, then he was sure as hell showing it in a weird way. Besides, he had no way of knowing. The only person who knew was Harry, and he was going to keep it that way. Or was he? He still didn't know anything about Sirius Black, the godfather mentioned in the letter. Not for the first time, Harry wondered what had happened to him. He certainly hadn't been in Harry's life. Harry frowned. The man was probably dead.


IIIIIIIIII


It would have been nice if his night off could have been put to something more relaxing than tea with the Headmaster, but recent developments had led to the need for more planning. Now that that was out of the way, there was one thing he wanted to know.

"How did you know the boy would try to leave this morning?"

The headmaster smiled ruefully from behind his half-moon glasses.

"Harry has, in some areas, a great sense of responsibility. It made sense that he would try to remove himself from the Alley after the Hogsmead attack."

"But you didn't think he would leave that day or in the middle of the night. You knew it would be the next morning."

"Why Severus, I have worked with young people for so long, I dare say I have an instinct for how they think."

"Some might think that Trelawny was more reliable to you as a seer than she seems."

"Perhaps she is," the Headmaster said. "She did tell me that I would regret choosing the maroon drapes for my office come summer and I was quite surprised to find that she was right."

Severus gave his employer a bemused glare.

"Suffice it to say," the Headmaster continued. "That I do believe that young Harry has taken your words to heart and will not attempt to leave what security he has."

"You should have bound him to that house the moment they escaped," Severus said.

"Some things need to happen in their own way," was Albus's response. One of a few phrases Severus heard whenever the man's decisions seemed to make sense only to himself.

They continued their tea in silence, and Severus left to return to his post.

Though he had resolved to stay in Diagon Alley, Harry hadn't felt like leaving the Leaky Cauldron after his rather unpleasant talk with Snape. From what he could see from the window in his room, the Alley still looked little better than deserted, and Harry didn't feel like mingling with the grim looking Aurors, who had just lost some of their own. He was going a bit stir crazy though, and the next morning he had decided to stop cloistering himself and get back into the alley.

Snape was right, though it galled to admit it to himself. Short of Hogwarts, Diagon Alley was the safest place for him. The universe, it seemed, wasn't satisfied with this self-admission though. That morning, as he sat himself at the bar for breakfast before he headed out, Harry discovered that Snape had been right about another thing: Harry was Fudge's PR piece, and the man wasn't about to let him hide himself away.

"Harry!" said a jovial voice behind him.

He turned around and was surprised to see the Minister of Magic standing behind him, with two red robed Aurors flanking him.

"So good to see you again. Just sitting down to breakfast I see, why don't you join me, I was just about to have something to eat myself. Tom," he called to the Leakey Cauldron's proprietor. "Why don't you set us up in the back."

Tom of course obliged, and Harry soon found his breakfast plate being removed and himself following Tom to the private dining room in the back of the inn. Fudge had an avuncular air about him and threw an arm over Harry's shoulder as they walked to the back, asking generic questions about his studies and his time in the alley. Harry managed to force out some awkward, quick answers through the lump that had suddenly formed in his throat caused by discomfort, but Fudge didn't seem to notice. The whole thing made him uncomfortable, there was just something about it that seemed so fake. Harry wanted to throw the Minister's arm off of him and walk in the opposite direction, but he supposed that one did not do that to the Minister of Magic.

One of the Aurors went in before them and checked the room before the rest of them entered. Before Harry knew it, he was seated across from Minister Fudge, two plates of hot English breakfast before them and the two Aurors and Tom were leaving them to eat alone. Harry found himself rather nervous to be dining alone with the man. Why on Earth did the most powerful man in wizarding UK want to eat breakfast with him? The night he had left the Dursley's was one thing, but this was just bizarre.

Harry didn't know exactly what to say to the man, but this didn't seem to be an issue since Fudge seemed quite content to guide the conversation, and only needed small nods and 'mmhmm's from Harry to keep going. Harry found himself pushing his food around his plate for the most part, while Fudge seemed very capable, somehow, of both eating a good bit, while also talking just as much without talking with his mouth full. Harry started to idly wonder if magic was involved somehow. Then he realized that the room was quiet, and he focused back on the minister who seemed to be waiting for some sort of response from Harry.

"Sorry," he said.

Fudge just smiled at him genially but with a hint of condescension.

"I was just saying how it must be nice to know that security procedures have been tightened on the alley. Now you can get back out there and enjoy your freedom," Fudge said lightly.

Though he had already been uncomfortable eating with the man; now his entire appetite disappeared as Snape's prediction came back to mind. He had, of course, already planned on returning to the alley, but he wanted to test something first.

"I don't know," Harry said. "Maybe it would be safer for everyone if I just stayed in here. I wouldn't want anyone else to get hurt like Ms. Adler did."

Fudge momentarily looked confused at the name of the dead Muggle woman, before he looked on Harry with a faux look of fond exasperation.

"Harry," he said. "Everyone's safe again. The ministry won't let anything happen. Now what will the public think, with the Boy Who Lived hiding like this?"

"Oh, I don't expect they'll notice," Harry said. "I'm no Tacheous Worth or anything," Harry said, thinking of a Quiditch player who had been in the news a lot lately.

"Not notice you? Why Harry of course they notice the Boy-Who-Lived," Fudge said as if Harry was just being modest. "That's why you have such a responsibility to help people feel safe again."

"But are they?" Harry asked.

"Yes," Fudge said emphatically. "People are safe, the Ministry is keeping everyone safe. And we all have to do our part to keep everything moving along. Why there are people hiding in their homes, and shop keepers with nary a customer and it's all pointless, and what's more it's fixable. You can fix it Harry."

"I just..."

"Harry," Fudge interrupted, a strained smile plastered on his face. "I trust that you will help the public with this. I would so much hate to think that you wouldn't," he said with a firm intensity.

Harry was suddenly reminded that Fudge had sent Hagrid to prison only a few months prior, on no evidence whatsoever. He had done it to placate the public. While he didn't think that the Minister had any reason to throw him in prison, he didn't really want to see what he might do if Harry directly challenged him.

"I will always help the public," Harry said. Though not necessarily the ministry, he thought. "Really, I've had some shopping to do, I should head out there," he said, excusing himself from the table.

"Have a good day Harry, it was good dining with you," The Minister called after him.

Harry made a noncommittal noise as he passed the two Aurors flanking the doorway. It was pretty embarrassing to be coerced into doing something you were already planning to do. Even worse to find that Snape was right. Speaking of the devil, there he was, sitting so he could see the doorway to the private dining room and the entrances to the Leakey Cauldron at the same time. A different face, as always, but Harry could see the same evaluating look on his face as he seemed to look at everything and nothing at the same time. Harry walked past him without giving any indication that he knew the man was there. He went upstairs and grabbed his book bag, checking to make sure his invisibility cloak was tucked safely inside. He walked outside, knowing that Snape was a distance behind him.

The alley was little more populated than it had been the day prior. Shoppers here and there, walking with a purpose, not stopping to mingle or window shop, just walking towards their destinations, so they could get home as quickly as possible. Diagon Alley was just plain depressing as it was. Stone faced Aurors everywhere, scared shoppers moving about, and on the cover of every newspaper and magazine on the paper stand by the Leakey Cauldron, a picture of a burned patch of ground, what was left after the attack in Hogsmead.

Harry spent the day trying to follow his usual routines, but there was a pall over the whole thing. Though he wasn't very active that day, he returned to the Leakey Cauldron that evening feeling exhausted, and when he fell asleep that night, he dreamed of fire.


IIIIIIIIIIII


Peter waited nervously in the old cottage, the unconscious forms of its muggle occupants still lying prone in the next room. He glanced with trepidation at the clock on the mantle. The meeting should have started two minutes ago. He knew that this wasn't a long time to wait, but it felt like an eternity. An eternity while he was sure a herd of Aurors were going to burst through every door. Of course, the arrival of those he awaited wasn't that much better, in his opinion. Suddenly, there was a loud crashing noise, as the front door of the cottage was smashed through. An angry witch stormed in, her thin black robes flowing behind her skeletal frame as her sunken black eyes took in the room and its occupant.

"Petrificus Totalus," she said, her wand pointed at Peter. Peter's eyes widened as the spell flew at his face, shields and counter curses leaving his mind. His arms snapped to his sides, and his legs stuck together, stiff as boards, and all he could do was look at the ceiling as Belatrix started walking around him. He could hear her talking to someone, but there was nothing in his head except the panic that had been growing since before she had arrived.

Suddenly Peter's body was floating, he righted in the air, and the spells on him all canceled, and he stumbled as his feet hit the ground. He found himself facing three wizards, and one heavily scowling witch, who were all staring at him. Rookwood, Beckett, and Dolohov had come in after Lestrange, and it was Rookwood who brought his wand down having just released Peter. They all had their wands out and Peter realized he had dropped his own when Belatrix had arrived; he eyed it on the floor but did not move to pick it up.

"Give me one good reason I shouldn't turn your brain to mush and feed you to a manticore," Belatrix demanded.

"I can get you Potter," Peter was quick to say. "And Dumbledore, if you dare."

"Lead us into a trap, you mean, like you led your Lord."

"I merely told him exactly what you would have told him if you had known their location. I told him just as I told him everything else; I told him their location in good faith, as I was always faithful to our lord."

"Faithful?" She shrieked. "Crucio," she cried out, only to have her wand pushed to the side by Rookwood. Peters knees gave out at the near miss, and he found himself picking himself up off the floor a moment later.

"Let's hear what he has to say before we turn his brains to mush, yes?" said Rookwood.

"I was faithful!" Belatrix shrieked at Rookwood. "Beckett was faithful, even you were faithful in your comfortable position as a spy. He's been sitting on his own wand this past decade doing nothing. He was never a believer. He bore our lord no true loyalty, he just wanted a piece of his power."

"That's true," said Peter, "I was never a believer, but that doesn't matter, the end result is the same. I need the Dark Lord to succeed, now more than ever, and I haven't been doing nothing," Peter bit out. He knew that his life hung in the balance, and he was the only one who could save it. It was a good thing he had come prepared to make this argument.

"I have positioned myself next to Potter, Dumbledore, and a number of their supporters. I am ready to strike, and I am ready to collect information. Just as your own brother-in-law has done at the ministry."

"You should have been searching for our Lord, aided in his return."

"And wound up useless in Azkaban as you did? Or get lost in the Himalayas, or Merlin knows where else. The Prophesy is not complete, so we know that the dark lord will come back. I simply chose to be in a position to aid him when he returned. In one night, we can destroy the vanguard that stood in the Dark Lord’s way, and when he returns, we will all be rewarded immensely." And Peter could stop living as a rat.

"And how will you do that exactly?" Rookwood asked. "It seems unlikely that a dead man could be positioned to do what you have claimed."

Peter grimaced; he rather didn't like showing people.

"A, um, a demonstration is in order," he said. He closed his eyes, focused inward and with a pop, he was Wormtail the rat. He transformed back into Peter. The four escaped convicts just stared at him in surprise.

"I'm, ah, the youngest Weasley boy's pet rat. He shares a dorm with Potter at Hogwarts. Kill me, and you take an asset away from your lord."

"The rat suits you quite well," Dolohov said, speaking for the first time, his voice hoarse, and his head hanging slightly to the side. His eyes though, were focused piercingly on Peter. "We could use a rat, I suppose."

Rookwood was looking at him speculatively, and Belatrix looked murderous, but not like she was actually moments away from killing him.

"How will you get me into Hogwarts?" Beckett asked.

"You are not burning down Hogwarts," Belatrix said thunderously.

"I could take out Dumbledore and Potter, and destroy that bastion of muggleborns."

"Potter and Hogwarts belong to the Dark Lord. The castle is his birthright as the Heir of Slytherin," Rookwood said. "And you're a fool if you think you could kill Dumbledore so easily."

"Your sole purpose right now is keeping the Aurors distracted while we find the Dark Lord. You getting captured in Hogwarts will only be a hindrance," Dolohov said scathingly.

"You don't want Potter?" Peter asked despondently. He had been sure Potter would be one of their targets. He had waited twelve years, positioned himself to be ultimately useful to the Dark Lord. But the Dark Lord had yet to come back, and he was so very tired of being a rat; of being a pet. The Dark Lord would return, that they knew, and when he did, Peter would be rewarded, but who knew when that would be.

"Potter's day will come," Rookwood said with an intense rasp. "Dumbledore's as well, I assure you. The Dark Lord will wait no more. We will find him, and we will restore him, and we will not risk being captured to do what is the Dark Lord's right."

"But.."

"Go back to your post. The Dark Lord will summon you when it is time. Bare faith and allegiance until then and you shall be rewarded," Rookwood said imperiously and clearly dismissively. He turned back to Beckett and started talking very condescendingly towards him, but Peter wasn't paying him any mind. It had to be soon, it just had to. He didn't know how much longer he could last.

"Enough, we all know this," Dolohov said, to whatever Rookwood had been saying. "We have been here too long."

"Yes," Rookwood said. "We have tarried." He turned to leave, not even giving Peter a sideways glance. "Be good," he told Beckett. "And be loud."

Belatrix gave Peter one more murderous glare and turned to follow Rookwood. Dolohov left after her. Beckett, muttering about fire, reached into his robes and disappeared. Peter raised a trembling hand up to his face. The end had been in sight, yet he still had long to go, too long.

He bent to reach for his wand, which was still on the floor when the remains of the splintered door were brushed aside by a man who stormed in. Peter lunged forward grabbing his wand, but the man paid him no mind. He walked into the center of the room; his intense, almost feral looking, eyes scanning everything before he stopped and took a deep breath through his nose, which was then let out through clenched teeth. He nodded to himself.

"Fix the door," he said, not looking at Peter.

Peter just stared at him for a moment, and Greyback turned his head to look at him with just one of his mad eyes. Peter turned his attention towards the door, which he repaired quickly, though it now looked decrepit.

"So, tell me how you can get me into Hogwarts," Greyback told Peter.

Peter was somewhat flummoxed; he hadn't been expecting that.

"I can't," he said. "I..."

"So tell me how you will get the boy out."

"I, I can't do that," Peter exclaimed.

"Then what were you promising them, mister inside-man?"

"You heard Rookwood, Potter belongs to the Dark Lord," Peter said, ready to disappear if Greyback took his words as a challenge.

"So you can get me into Hogwarts," Greyback said.

"Yes, but," Peter started.

"The Dark Lord is not here," Greyback said fiercely, an intense look on his face. "I am, and I know your little secret and I can find you wherever you go and make you a midnight snack. I get Potter. He is mine, and when the Dark Lord returns, if he returns, I will give Potter to him for my due. Now, how do I get into Hogwarts."


IIIIIIIII


Two more muggle buildings were firebombed in the following weeks; the Canterbury Cathedral in Kent, and a barracks building at the Catterick Garrison in Yorkshire. Both attacks were timed for maximum loss of life. Beckett was caught on CCTV again; this time at the Garrison. Yet he hadn't made another appearance in the wizarding world, and despite the panic currently happening in the muggle world, the wizarding world seemed to be forgetting their previous fear and had gotten back to their daily routines. If Harry had been so daring, he would have snuck out into the muggle world to get a newspaper. No muggle papers were sold in the alley.

A couple of weeks after the Hogsmeade bombing, Harry could almost believe that it had never happened, at least, judging by how it was business as usual in Diagon Alley. The usual hustle and bustle had returned; with whole families walking about, witches and wizards window shopping, and hawkers calling out wares at passing shoppers. However, when he looked closely, Harry could see a tension. A mother holding her children close, a man looking at passersby suspiciously, and just in general, the feeling of the world waiting for the other shoe to drop, not caring that it already had, twice, in the Muggle world.

Regardless of what else was happening in the world, Harry was fairly excited for the upcoming two days. Firstly, because Harry was at that moment awaiting the Weasley's and Hermione's arrival at the Leakey Cauldron, and secondly, because the next day, they would be boarding the train at Kings Cross Station, on their way to another school year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. While Harry wasn't looking forward to having to actually interact with Snape on a regular basis, Hogwarts had always felt like his home, more than anywhere else, and he eagerly awaited being able to return with his friends.

Harry got out of bed, the last remnants of sleep falling away as he stretched and rubbed his eyes. He changed into his school slacks and dress shirt and threw a plain robe over the ensemble. Looking in the mirror, he found himself looking at his own face, rather than the clothes he was wearing. He frowned for a moment and tried to imagine himself looking more like Snape than his father, like he had in his dream from weeks prior. He scowled at himself and walked out the door of his room.

Sitting down at the bar, Harry greeted Tom, who said hello to Harry, gave him some breakfast, and went off to take an order from a couple sitting in a booth.

Harry glanced around casually, his eyes passing over a disguised Snape, who, as usual, had only a black coffee in front of him.

"So," said Tom, who had returned to the bar. "Are you excited to be returning to school tomorrow?"

"Very," said Harry. "It'll be good to see everyone again and be able to use magic."

"Can't quite remember how I managed when I was your age," Tom said with a wry grin. "I don't think a day goes by when I haven't cast ten spells before I've even opened the Cauldron."

"Well," Harry said. "I've only got three and a half more summers to get on with."

"Don't be too eager to grow up," Tom said. "You can't go back to being thirteen."

Harry smiled and said, "Yeah," before turning back to his breakfast. Really, he thought, you could tell most kids to enjoy their carefree youth while they had it, but Harry wasn't sure he had ever been carefree. He doubted he would ever look back at being thirteen and wish he could go back to what he had now. He could do without annual attempts at his life, crazy dark lords, and terrorists. Of course, nothing said he wouldn't have to deal with it when he was older as well.

He had just gotten up from the bar stool when he heard an excited "Harry," from behind. He turned around in time to see a mass of bushy brow hair as he received an enthusiastic hug from his friend Hermione.

"Hey Hermione," Harry said while hugging his friend, and trying not to get any of her hair into his mouth. "How was France?"

"Oh it was… Wait forget France, what's this about someone trying to kidnap you?" Hermione said.

"How'd you hear about that?" Harry asked.

"I read the paper, why didn't you say anything in your letters?" Hermione said with a frown.

"You were having fun in France, I didn't want you worrying," Harry said with a shrug.

"Oh, that's nice, now every time I go on vacation, I can worry about all the horrible things you are keeping to yourself."

"Well maybe if you didn't just assume something horrible was going to happen to me you wouldn't worry so much. Honestly, it's not like something is always going on," Harry said. Hermione just raised an eyebrow at him.

"Alright, so something horrible probably will happen," he said. "But that's not the point."

"And the point is?" Hermione asked.

Harry opened his mouth to reply but found he didn't actually have a point. He shrugged. "I suppose I can give you a heads up the next time something big happens." He almost chocked on the words thinking about Snape sitting across the room. That Snape was his father was something he certainly wasn't planning on telling anyone.

"But you are alright, aren't you?" Hermione asked.

"Well yeah, I'm not the one who wound up dead," Harry said.

"Wait, Fenrir Greyback is dead." Hermione said in surprise.

"What, no, I thought you said you read about it in the paper."

"I did. It didn't say anything about anyone dying." Hermione said, now very concerned.

Harry himself hadn't actually read any of the articles that mentioned either of his attempted kidnappings, but he had assumed that the woman who had died saving his life would have been mentioned.

"Ms. Adler, she lived in my neighborhood. She attacked Greyback; she's the reason I got away, but Greyback killed her," Harry said with a touch of anger and sadness.

Hermione looked aghast for a moment before Harry suddenly found himself in another hug. He was rescued by the timely arrival of Ron.

"Oy," called Ron from the cleared space in front of the Leakey Cauldron's fireplace, the flames behind him turning green. "That's long enough, let the man breath. He's got people out for his blood, he doesn't need anyone trying to squeeze the life out of him." Harry was rather grateful for the reprieve and grinned at Ron, who was crossing the room towards him while Percy Weasley stepped out of the green flames. The two boys slapped each other on the backs by way of greeting. Harry didn't have long to wait before he was surrounded by Weasleys. He was, of course, happy to see them all, even Percy, but he was somewhat put out to find out, after various greetings and some antics from the twins, that the Weasleys senior intended for everyone to stay together that day as a group. Harry had been planning to go off with Ron and Hermione alone, and having Snape as chaperone was bad enough.

The Weasleys and Hermione all got rooms in the Leakey Cauldron and Harry waited for them all to settle in. The twins were the first downstairs and Harry suspected they had just dropped their trunks in their rooms and come back down.

"So, how's our team's favorite seeker doing after a summer of no flying," Fred asked coming up next to Harry and putting an arm over his shoulder.

"Probably gone mad, I bet, getting up to all sorts of trouble," George said from Harry's other side, throwing his own arm over Harry's shoulders.

Harry ducked down from between the both of them and turned to face them. "I'm your only Seeker," he said with a grin. "Besides, I did get to fly, I flew all the way from Surrey to the Leakey Cauldron."

Here the twins looked impressed.

"No, really?" Fred asked.

"How'd you avoid getting spotted by the muggles?" George asked.

"Well," Harry said. "It took me a while, but I managed to fasten my invisibility cloak so I could fly with it."

"You have an invisibility cloak," George said, incredulous.

"Yeah, it was my dad's, Ron's never mentioned?"

"He probably wanted us to think he was sneakier than he was, getting around the castle at night like that."

"Still though," said Fred. "Flying to London seems pretty tame for this one. Are you sure you didn't slay a dragon, or discover that you could speak to fish."

"No, nothing like that," Harry said, assuming they meant other than narrowly avoiding getting abducted by a werewolf.

"Well surely you stopped some sort of heist here in the alley," George said. Harry shook his head. "Pulled off a heist?" Another head shake, though with a grin. "Discovered some sort of innate and rare magical ability?"

"No," Harry said. "Well yeah, sort of, actually. It was just accidental magic, I guess, but I passed through solid matter."

"Are you serious?" asked George.

"Yeah," said Harry. "I wondered afterwards if there was a spell to do that. It might make getting to classes easier if I could just run through walls."

"If that's the best you can think to do with the ability to walk through walls, then I'm not sure that I want to continue affiliating with you," said George.

"Escape from Filch?" Harry asked.

"There you go," said Fred, ruffling Harry's hair. "Right after you've planted a dozen dung bombs in his office. Still, I've never heard of anyone doing that," said Fred.

"Yeah, you're probably the first," George commented.

"First what," Ron asked, having just come down from his room.

"First bloke who could stand being in the same room as you for more than five minutes," Fred told his brother with a wicked grin.

Ron stuck his tongue out at him.

"Oh honestly Ron, you would think you were still a first year," Hermione said having just come back from settling into her room.

"They started it," Ron said.

"Oh let's not start anything boys," Mrs. Weasley said, the rest of the Weasley clan in tow. "We've got enough to do today without your squabbling about."

"We could run our errands faster if we split up." George said.

"And have you causing mischief throughout the alley? I don’t think so. Now come on."

The seven Weasleys, plus Harry and Hermione walked out of the Leakey Cauldron and up to the barrier to Diagon Alley. Mrs. Weasley pulled out her wand from her handbag and tapped the bricks to get into the alley. The bricks started turning and rearranging themselves pulling away from the center. Harry had seen this all a dozen times before, but he could still remember the wonder he had felt the first time he had seen it. George, on the other hand, looked like he was seeing the magical gateway for the first time, and Harry wondered if, in his own lack of enthusiasm, he was beginning to take magic for granted.

They went all over the alley, Mrs. Weasley in the front, leading the group, Mr. Weasley in the back making sure no one fell back to window gaze, and Harry in the middle. It didn't take Harry too long to realize that Snape wasn't following, and suddenly Mrs. Weasley's insistence that they all stick together made more sense. She and Mr. Weasley were now his chaperones; Snape had likely gone back to Hogwarts to prepare for the start of term the next day. Of course, while he would prefer the Weasleys senior to Snape any day, their close proximity put a damper on discussing anything other than trips to Paris and Egypt.

They stopped at Flourish and Blotts to pick up books, and Madam Malkin's for robes. Harry said a small goodbye to Mr. Ashwinder at the apothecary and reminded himself to try to guide their group to some of the other shops he had frequented so that he could say goodbye to many of the people he had become fond of over the summer.

Harry found himself rather excited, though not as excited as Ron was, for their last stop. Olivander's hadn't changed since Harry had visited on his eleventh birthday, and Ron was practically bouncing on his heels like a soon to be first year as he eagerly awaited finding his new wand. Mrs. Weasley gave Ron a slightly exasperated look as they went in, probably recalling the exact circumstances under which Ron had broken his hand-me-down wand. Of course, fifteen minutes later and a good two dozen wands tried, she looked very proud when Ron found his wand. It was a very different process from when Harry had gotten his wand. Ron didn't just randomly swish various wands, he cast a spell with each one, with a great variety of results. The wand he chose however, or rather the one that chose him, made itself apparent when Ron first picked it up. It didn't make a scene like Harry's had when he had first held it, it was just apparent when he picked it up that it was his wand. Ron's face lit up, and he looked at the wand like he had never seen one before, and almost imperceptibly there was a hum, a tingling sensation as from the air itself, like magic was in the air. Then it was gone, but Harry didn't need to see Ron cast Glacius on the glass of water to know that he had the right one, though the water froze solid instantly. Mr. Weasley was beaming, and Mrs. Weasley gave her son a big hug. Mr. Olivander started putting wands away, and Harry realized he had half expected some sort of crazy story to be attached to this wand.

'I remember every wand I've ever made, Mr. Weasley, every wand. It just so happens that the wood for this wand came from Merlin's staff.' Harry smiled at the thought.

Ron's excitement was somewhat short lived when Mrs. Weaselsy snatched up the wand and put it back in its box and into one of her shopping bags.

"I don't need it getting broken before you even get to the train," she said in the face of his mutinous outrage. "Now let's be on our way, it's almost sunset and I don't want us out after dusk," she said, and they were on their way before Ron could retort, while Mr. Weaselsy quickly paid for the wand.

Mrs. Weasley tried to herd them back to the Leakey Cauldron without stops, but she couldn't prevent even Percy from stopping once more at the Quidditch shop to ogle once more at the Firebolt on display. Harry and Hermione managed to convince her though, to stop at Toolings Charm Stop. Harry had mentioned the variety of items geared towards young witches and wizards unable to perform magic over the summer and with her birthday coming up, Hermione's parents had left her with some extra money to buy herself a present. Mrs. Weasley had given them all a strict ten-minute deadline and let them loose in the shop. There was a wide variety of charmed items and Harry very soon found that his money bag felt very heavy in his pocket.

Time flew quickly and the trio soon found themselves making their way towards the front of the shop where Madame Tooling was having an amicable though low volume discussion with the twins. Madame Tooling excused herself when they approached the counter, but not before George held out his hand to shake hers.

Hermione, out of all the cool items in the shop, had chosen a bookmark, which would make any magical book look like a mundane book to a muggle eye as well as keep her place. Ron and Hermione had a small argument about the items relative merits while Hermione paid for her item. "I couldn't read any of my textbooks while I was in France," Hermione said.

"But it's a mokeskin pouch," Ron said, pointing at the item. You could keep a dozen books in there.

"I could also go an entire year without pocket money, but I think I'd rather not," Hermione said, placing a few coins on the counter.

Harry wound up buying silencing insoles for his shoes, a nice compliment to his invisibility cloak.

"Are there any charms I can perform for you today?" Madame Tooling asked after they had checked out.

Just one, Harry thought, but that could wait till the next day when he could do magic himself.

"No thanks," Ron said, and they were soon being ushered out of the shop by the Weasleys elder.

Soon enough they were ensconced within the Leakey Cauldron, their purchases upstairs, and the whole lot of them surrounding a large table set for a family style dinner. Percy was expounding on how the school year would be different with him as Head Boy, something he had talked about quite a bit throughout the day. Harry, Ron, and Hermione were trying to ignore him, and the twins were making fun of Percy's new position. It almost felt at times, as though they had never left Hogwarts, as though they hadn't spent the past several, very eventful, weeks apart. At other points, Harry could almost feel the weight of everything that had happened, everything that hadn't been said, and the dark events of their world pressing down on him and separating him from his friends.

Harry almost wished that they were alone, and he could tell them everything. Yet from the letter, to the encounter with Greyback, to being thrown out of the Dursley's home, he didn't feel like he could really talk about any of it. Oh, he would tell them a bit about the two attacks, and about Snape technically being his watchdog. But he didn't really want to talk about how he hadn't even had his wand on him, or how Ms. Adler had died so horrifically. And the Dursleys; he hadn’t enjoyed it, but it almost seemed normal to him, how they treated him. And when he had been eleven, he had almost been a bit surprised at how upset his friends got when he talked about them, so he had stopped long ago. It was a subject no one ever really brought up, and even if it wasn't, getting kicked out was quite a bit different from doing all of the chores.

Snape and his mother especially though, he didn't want anyone, not even his friends, to know about. Yet at the same time, it made him feel like an impostor. He had identified as an orphan his entire life, and that was typically how others saw him; the boy whose parents had been ripped from him, forced to grow up without. Yet he did have a father, and now it was his own choice to do without. Not that Snape would take him in if he knew or treat him like a son if he did. Not that he'd want him to do either, because he didn't need either, he was doing just fine on his own.

"Harry dear," Mrs. Welsley's voice broke into his clouded thoughts, and Harry realized he had probably been staring off into space. "Did you want some more brussel sprouts?" she asked, and Harry realized he had probably been staring at the sprouts.

"Oh, um, yeah," Harry said, and Mrs. Weasels scooped some more of the green vegetables onto his plate, smiling warmly at him.

"So, Harry, Hermione, which of the elective courses did you choose this year?" Mrs. Weasley asked.

"Oh, well I've got Care of Magical Creatures, and Divination," Harry said.

"Divination was never my favorite course," Percy said officiously. "I have never regretted taking Arithmancy, and I'd say there are a good dozen practical applications for Ancient Runes in your daily life."

"Don't be silly, Percy," Fred said. Percy bristled.

"If there's anyone who needs to see who's hiding around the next bend, it's Harry." George said, pantomiming some vicious beast ready to lunge.

"Divination doesn't work like that," Percy said pompously.

Fred opened his mouth to say something, but Mrs. Weasley beat him to it. "Hermione dear, what about you?"

"I chose all of them," Hermione said.

Ron laughed. "You can't take all of them, there's too much overlap."

Percy of course had his own two cents to put in. "While I admire your studious drive, Hermione, I'm afraid Ronald is right. There's just no way for you to take all of the classes. Don't worry though, Professor McGonagall will make sure you get the classes that will help you excel."

Hermione didn't seem to have an argument against that, but she didn't look at all like her hopes of taking all of her classes had been quashed. Harry figured if there was anyone who could manage all of them, it would be Hermione.

"So, Ron, how are the Cannons doing this season?" Mr. Weasley asked, and Ron started telling the table enthusiastically about the Cannon's latest almost win.

Quidditch talk took up the majority of the rest of the dinner conversation, and after tea and dessert, Mrs. Weasley was sending them all to their rooms.

"Now we're all getting up early tomorrow, so make sure you all go to bed soon, and make sure your trunks are packed tonight." She turned to the twins, "and no one is to step one foot out of the Cauldron tonight."

"Guess we'll wait till dawn," Fred said.

"Night Mum," George said as they hurried upstairs. The two had their heads together, conspiratorially before they had even reached the second landing.

Harry headed upstairs. He didn't have to wait long though, soon Ron was sticking his head into the room and letting himself in.

"So," Ron said. "Are you going to tell me now, or are we waiting for Hermione?"

"We'll wait for Hermione," Harry said. "Tell me about Egypt."

For all that Ron seemed eager to hear about Harry's adventurous summer, he was very ready to tell Harry about every detail of his trip to Egypt. Ron was telling Harry about George trying to scare Ginny, dressed up as a mummy, when Hermione knocked and entered the room. Harry could tell that something was bothering her, but figured that she, like Ron wanted to hear what had happened with Greyback.

He wound up giving them a somewhat watered-down version of events, including the fact that during the second encounter, it had been Snape who had saved Harry from being spirited away.

"Snape?" Ron asked aghast. "Why would he be watching you."

"Dumbledore's orders I think," Harry said. "It put a bit of a damper on things with him constantly watching me." Though oddly enough, he had felt somewhat safer knowing someone was guarding his back.

"Do you know why he's after you?" Hermione asked suddenly, her intense eyes focused on Harry.

"Not really, he kept talking about someone else, like he was going after me to get back at someone else," Harry said. And wasn't that all too familiar. Greyback was just a way creepier version of Snape.

"Could it be your dad?" Ron asked. "Maybe he captured Greyback during the war."

Hermione frowned.

"No," Harry said. "All the fugitives got captured after Voldemort fell."

"Um," Hermione said, she looked awkward, like she wasn't sure if she should be saying something.

"What is it?" Ron asked.

"Well," Hermione said. "I heard your parents arguing before I came in..."

But whatever she had overheard Harry would not find out that night. At that moment, there was a knock at the door and Mrs. Weasley poked her head into the room. She frowned when her eyes fell on Hermione, but it was quickly replaced by a smile that was graced upon them all.

"All right, you lot. Time for bed, we're up at six tomorrow and you all need your sleep. Ron did you finish packing?"

"No Mum," a slightly red-faced Ron said.

"Well you'd best get to it; I'll be by your room in ten minutes to say good night."

Ron got up and left the room, soon followed by Hermione.

"Good night, Harry," she said as she made her way out of the room, and to Mrs. Weaselsy, "Good night."

"Good night, Hermione dear," Mrs. Weaselsy said.

Then it was just Harry and his best friend's mum in the room.

"Well Harry," she started. "There won't be much time tomorrow so I'm making the rounds tonight. Have a good school year, and please stay safe. There may be a horrible person after you, but it's not your responsibility to catch him. Just please, whatever might happen, whatever you might hear, remember that there are adults there to keep you safe, and to capture Greyback."

"Well it's not like I'm going to go looking for him," Harry said. Really it was Snape he would expect to accuse him of wanting to run after Greyback, though he probably wouldn't look like he was concerned about Harry if he did.

"Harry dear," Mrs. Weasley said, and Harry suddenly found that she was standing much closer with a hand on each of his shoulders, and a serious expression on her face. "I will always be grateful, so grateful that you rescued my baby, but can you really say that you didn't go out looking for the Chamber, or that blasted stone for that matter. You could have died both times; you almost did." Harry almost felt like she was as concerned for him as she would be if she were talking to Ron, and Harry wondered if she would be having a similar talk with her other children. Yet Harry didn't think he had any placating answer to her concerns for a moment. He had researched the stone and he had tried to solve the mystery of the Heir of Slytherine. But going after Snape, or rather Quirel had never been his goal, nor had facing Tom Riddle and the Basilisk. He had been trying to get the stone and Ginny, not fight anyone. His pause had been too long though.

"Just promise me, please Harry. Promise me that you, Hermione, and my Ronnie aren't going to go on any more of these adventures."

And suddenly Harry understood.

"I promise Mrs. Weasley," he said, smiling in what he hoped was a reassuring manner. "It's not like anyone could get into Hogwarts anyway."

Mrs. Weasley rewarded him with a smile and a quick hug.

"All right now, you make sure to get plenty of rest, you all have a big day tomorrow."

She walked towards the door. "Good night Harry dear." And she was gone, to kiss her children goodnight.

Despite her urgings, Harry found that he didn't get much sleep that night.


IIIIIIIIII


Breakfast the next morning was a rushed affair. Ministry cars arrived not long after they woke up to escort them to Kings Cross, or rather, to make sure Harry arrived without being abducted. Harry wound up riding in a car with Mr. Weasley, Percy, and George. He was a bit disgruntled to have found himself separated from Ron and Hermione, just as George seemed upset to be separated from Fred.

The two cars arrived at Kings Cross in no time at all, the magical cars having slipped through lanes and even cross traffic. Mr. Weasley was constantly looking out the windows, and Harry wasn't sure if he was looking for a possible threat, or if he was just indulging his fascination with all things muggle.

Harry hadn't expected Aurors to be stationed in the muggle parts of Kings Cross, but there were; they just weren't dressed as Aurors. Men and women in business suits were positioned all over, and Harry could recognize the familiar stance in all of them that he had seen in the Aurors of Diagon Alley. Every one of the men had an Auror red tie, and all of the women wore an Auror red blouse. He could even recognize a couple who had held regular Alley posts. Harry wondered why they had bothered changing out of all of their robes, since all of them seemed to be unnoticeable to the muggles swarming about.

"The charms are only applied lightly," Mr. Weasley explained, when Harry asked. "Otherwise the muggles would walk right into them. It's not strong enough to stop them from noticing something so out of place as robes."

There were two Aurors standing guard outside the barrier to platform nine and three quarters who both nodded to Mr. Weasley when they walked up. Mr. Weasley and Percy went first, walking through the barrier casually, both having made the trip many times before.

"Wait just a moment dears," Mrs. Weasley said, as the twins made to go next. They looked at her expectantly, but she just stood there a moment, like she was waiting for something. Then she nodded her head and said. "All right, Harry, Ron, you go next." The two boys shared a confused look with the twins and walked towards the barrier. Harry half expected to crash into it, like he had the year prior. He closed his eyes, the moment before he reached the barrier, but found himself continuing on through. He opened his eyes again, and found himself on the other side, the Hogwarts Express shining in front of him.

The train was a very welcome sight, two years prior, it had taken him from the Dursleys and to a new world of magic. Now it would be taking him back to Hogwarts, and hopefully away from the madness of his summer vacation. That image and that hope was somewhat spoiled by the sight of a dozen red robed Aurors patrolling the platform.

The twins came through next, soon followed by Ginny and her mother. Soon all nine of them were gathered together off to the side of the platform. They were not late, so there was no rush to get on the train, and there were several hugs, admonishments, and pats on the back. Harry tensed when he found himself getting a hug from Mrs. Weasley, with a 'stay safe', whispered in his ear, a reminder of her plea for her children from the night before. He nodded his head, an affirmation of his promise.

"All right now," a new voice said, an Auror, walking up towards them. "We need to keep the platform clear, so students need to get on the train and parents need to move on." Harry noticed, for the first time, that the usually crowded platform wasn't. Mrs. Weasley looked like she was about to protest, but Mr. Weasley put his hand on her shoulder and she just scowled at the man.

"Have a good school year," Mr. Weasley said, by way of parting words. The seven children made their way to the train.

"Right, well, have a good trip," Percy said magnanimously. "I have to go conduct the prefects meeting." His chest was puffed out and his Head Boy badge stood out prominently.

"Those poor prefects," Fred said dramatically. Percy shook his head at him and walked towards the front of the train.

"Welcome back students," said an excited voice from behind Harry. "Have you found compartments yet?"

"Professor?" was Hermione's surprised reply, and sure enough, when Harry turned around, he saw the diminutive form of Professor Flitwick standing in the train corridor.

"We are conducting things a tad differently this year, but not to worry, you'll be getting to Hogwarts all the same. Now run along and find a compartment for your journey."

"It's good to see you Professor," Hermione said as they headed down the train corridor looking into train compartments to find empty ones.

Ron waited a moment until they were out of the Professor's earshot.

"'Good to see you', honestly, as if we wanted to ride with Professors the only time we can do magic without anyone looking over our shoulder," Ron said scathingly.

"Did you have any plans I should know about?" Hermione asked. "You realize they're here to keep us safe, not to spy on us."

"That depends," George said.

"Is Snape on the train," Fred asked.

"What if I need to curse Malfoy?" Ron asked.

"You shouldn't be cursing anybody," Hermione said in exasperation.

"It's probably better if you leave the mischief to us," George said, to which Ron scowled.

The twins found their friend Lee Jordan and parted from the group. Further down the corridor they passed Professor Sinistra, who directed them to an empty compartment further down the train car.

"Um, there's something we should talk about," Hermione said somewhat awkwardly once they were inside the compartment. "Maybe."

"Ginny, could you give us a bit," Ron said without missing a beat.

"And the annual mystery hunt begins," Ginny said grabbing her trunk, and clearly a bit put off. "Don't worry, I won't get underfoot."

Ron had the grace to look guilty.

Hermione didn't say anything, even after Ginny left, and Harry thought she looked very conflicted.

"Is this about what you heard last night?" Harry asked.

Hermione nodded.

"Oh, it's not like I've never heard my parents arguing before, just spill," Ron said

"All right, but Harry, just promise me you won't go looking for Greyback," Hermione said.

"Why does everyone think I'm going to go hunt down Greyback?" Harry asked.

"Just promise," Hermione said.

"I already did," Harry said, somewhat heatedly. "Ron's mum made me promise last night."

"She did?" Ron said, surprised.

"She wanted to make sure I didn't drag... that we wouldn't all go off looking for him like he's the Stone or the bloody Chamber of Secrets," Harry said.

"So they were arguing about whether or not to tell you not to look for Greyback?" Ron asked.

"No," Hermione said. "They were arguing about whether they should tell you why he's after you."

They both looked at her expectantly.

"You're sure you won't..." Hermione started.

"Hermione!" both boys exclaimed.

"He killed your godfather," Hermione said, now in a rush. "I didn't hear everything, but it has something to do with why he's after you."

Harry opened his mouth to say that he didn't have a godfather, but of course, he didn't. He didn't have a godfather like he didn't have parents. All lost the same way, it seemed.

"What?" Ron asked.

"That's all I heard, really, it was mostly just them going back and forth on it."

There was a silence for a moment, and then, "Harry?"

"I'm fine," Harry said. Both of his friends just stared at him. "Really, it's not like someone I knew just died. Just someone else I never got to know." He scratched his scalp and avoided looking at Hermione.

"I just figure it would help to know why the guy's after you," Ron said.

"Was it Mrs. Weasley who didn't want me to know?" Harry asked.

Hermione looked to Ron, as though asking his permission to rat out his mom. Ron just shrugged.

"It's okay," Harry said. Both of his friends looked at him in surprise, neither expecting him to be okay with any of it. Neither of them understood what Harry understood; that Mrs. Weasley was very afraid for her children's safety, and that Harry's search for justice would lead her youngest son right into a very real danger.

"If Mum should be worried about anyone looking for Greyback, it's me. Have you seen the bounties on all of their heads?" Ron said.

"Oh, honestly," Hermione said.

They talked about the matter a bit more until the train started moving, their journey to Hogwarts begun. It wasn't long before Ron brought out his chess set, and Harry had the relative silence for introspection.

Dudley didn't have a godfather, and unlike parents, Harry didn't have much of a concept of what a godfather did, or what role one would have played in his life. Would Harry have lived with the man? Would he have visited him at the Dursley's? Did it matter? Harry didn't know.

Chess lasted for a while, and then there was conversations about their respective summer vacation. Harry wound up giving a somewhat watered-down version of his own time that summer.

Hours passed, and so too did the snack laden trolley. Their train compartment now strewn with sweet wrappers, chocolate frog cards, books, and the occasional wandering chess piece was not how Harry would have liked to first be seen by his school nemesis, Draco Malfoy, but then again, Harry rather liked to avoid the pretentious, entitled boy as much as possible.

"Potter," Draco drawled, entering their compartment flanked by his hangers-on, Crabbe and Goyle "Been howling at the moon lately?

"Piss off Malfoy," Ron said

"I'm rather surprised you're willing to be in the same compartment as him, Weasel, but then again, your family has always associated with the lower sorts," he sneered, casting a deriding look at Hermione.

Harry's hands balled up into fists. "Well I'd rather associate with werewolves than the murderers your family hangs around with."

"Werewolves are murders; they're savages, just like you are now," Draco said to Harry, a sneer on his lips.

"What are you even on about?" Hermione said.

"Don't you know?" Draco said, as if he was delighted to find that he could spread whatever he was there to spread. "Potter's been turned into a werewolf, look, you can see it in his eyes. He'll be kicked out of the school for sure, and then it's only a matter of time before he's captured again by Greyback."

"Oh, push over, Harry wasn't captured by Greyback," Ron said. "He got away; you don't know anything about it. But I do. Greyback was You-Know-Who's enforcer, he kept the Death Eaters in line. I bet your father pissed himself whenever he was in the room."

Draco pulled his wand quickly and pointed it at Ron.

"You take that back," he said angrily.

Harry and Ron were on their feet instantly, pulling their wands out of their pockets, Ron's new wand sending out a couple of sparks.

"Put your wands away," Hermione said. She was looking out the door as though expecting a teacher to swoop in and give everyone detention.

But Draco suddenly found himself no longer flanked, Crabbe and Goyle had retreated into the train corridor, they looked uncertain and their eyes were focused on Harry. Did they actually think that he was a werewolf?

Draco, missing his backup, no longer looked like he wanted to be in the compartment either. Draco's shoulders arched back, and he seemed to be restraining himself from yelling at his two cohorts. Then he turned calmly and walked out of the compartment, as though he had merely become bored.

"I bet he'll eat you first Weasley," he said casually over his shoulder as he stalked down the corridor, Crabbe and Goyle following after him.

"Of all the stupid nonsense," Hermione said.

"Yeah," Ron said. "What's he on about? A werewolf. Right Harry?"

"No," Hermione said loudly. "You almost started a fight with teachers everywhere. I don't know about you, but I don't want to start out the school year in detention."

"He drew his wand first," Ron said heatedly.

"Did he actually convince Crabbe and Goyle that I'm a werewolf?" Harry asked, changing the subject.

"Those two idiots will believe anything," Ron said.

"Yeah, well it wasn't long ago that everyone thought I was the heir of Slytherin," Harry said.

"If anyone's silly enough to believe that, they'll all feel like fools when they realize that it's a full moon tonight," Hermione said.

"It is?" Ron said, sounding worried.

"There's a werewolf trying to kidnap Harry and you haven't kept up with the lunar cycle?" Hermione asked.

Ron gave Harry a look. "Didn't think of that," he said apologetically.

"Neither did I," Harry said. "Still, they'll believe just about anything if I'm not careful. Let's just hope no one tries to put Wolfsbane in my food."

"Still though, shouldn't we be worried about this full moon thing, what if Greyback comes after Harry," Ron said.

"He would be hard pressed to get on board in human form, I don't think he'll be able to get on as a werewolf," Hermione said.

Ron seemed somewhat mollified but still looked out the window for the moon. It had gotten dark, but they couldn't see the moon with the cloud cover.

It wasn't long later that the weather outside took a turn and rain started splattering on the windows. Hermione had started quizzing the two boys about their summer homework when the train started to stop somewhat quickly.

"Are we there already?" Harry asked.

"Hasn't been long enough, I don't think," Ron said with a bit of trepidation.

"It's still too early," Hermione said. They all started looking out the window, but with the light in the compartment against the glass and the dark outside, they could see little more than their own reflections. They definitely could not see the lights of Hogsmeade or its train station.

"I don't like this," Hermione said. "This could be an attack."

Ron pulled out his wand, soon followed by Harry and Hermione.

"You said Greyback couldn't really do anything with the train under the full moon," Ron said.

"Yes, but the others could," Hermione said, chewing on her bottom lip in worry.

Even Harry had to admit, he had started to think of only Greyback as being a direct threat to him.

The lights suddenly went out in their compartment, and no light came through the glass in the compartment door.

"Lumos," Hermione said, the soft glow of her wand casting the compartment in shadow and an eerie light.

They could hear worried voices from elsewhere in the train car, and a few doors opening and closing. A cold order was barked out and some of the noise stopped.

A deep chill leeched into Harry's bones and he started to shiver, a sharp pall suddenly came over the compartment.

"H-Harry mate, are you alright?" Ron asked sounding worried.

Hermione put a hand on his shoulder. "Harry?" She asked.

"Wait," Ron said, now sounding really scared.

"It's so cold," Harry said.

Hermione looked at him in confusion.

"Hermione," Ron started to say something, but he suddenly threw his arms around himself with a gasp. He was soon followed by Hermione who gave a sharp shiver, the light from her wand dimming until only a faint flicker remained.

The door slid open, and in came a cloaked and hooded figure. Harry felt a sense of dread from deep within, and from somewhere, Harry could hear screaming. Someone was in trouble, Harry thought, but he knew down to his soul that he was powerless to help. Ron pointed his wand at the figure, its face hidden, the only part visible its pale and desiccated hands. Harry knew that he should be doing the same, but he didn't have the strength to. Then it started to draw its breath; a dry death rattle. Ron's wand fell from his hand and both of his arms encircled himself. That was the last thing Harry was aware of what was happening in the train compartment. The yelling was getting louder, and he was so cold and scared. It was a woman, a woman was yelling, she was begging, Harry wished he could go to her, but he couldn't. There was a high-pitched laugh, but then it all changed, there was a brief silence and for the briefest of moments Harry felt warm and safe.

The whole world around him seemed to shift, the cold was back, so cold it made him ache. His feet were dangling, thrashing about, and the pain in his arm the only indication of how he was being held up. A red, angry face the only thing he could see, an enraged voice the only thing he could hear, he wanted to apologize but no words would come out, and then a wet snap and pain was the only thing he could feel.

There was a warring inside of him and then...shift.

He was running, he could never stop running. He turned his head to look over his shoulder. He could see the other boys chasing after him. Pierce had a wicked grin. He turned his head back around, but not in time to see the crack in the pavement. His foot met an immoveable object and suddenly he was flying through the air. He landed hard, half on the sidewalk and half on the street, his hands and knees scraped painfully, his glasses and one of his too large shoes flew free. He tried to put one foot underneath himself, to leap up and keep running, but a hand grabbed his shirt and yanked up and Harry briefly experienced a choking sensation, before another hand grabbed his shoulder and he was flipped over onto his back. The cold ground seemed to leech all of the warmth from him. He was out of breath, and he was tired and he wished that he were at the Dursley's in his cupboard. Someone punched him in the stomach, and he felt sick. He tried to break free but it was no use. He was miserable with pain and frustration and he just wanted to run away, but he couldn’t. He could hear Dudley wheezing as he approached, trying to catch up, Harry knew what would happen. A hand yanked up on his shirt and it ripped, he knew how that would be received by his Aunt. His throat became soar and his eyes stung, and he knew he was about to cry, but he couldn’t, not in front of them, not in front of Dudley. His cousin caught up and he couldn’t see well enough to say whether Dudley was angry to have needed to run, or happy to have caught Harry. Either way, it didn’t change much. The first tear fell.

Shift

Hands were wrapped around his throat, his vision was growing dim, even as his own hands scorched every part of Quirrel he touched. It wasn't enough, he was going to die, and Voldemort would get the stone. What would happen to Ron and Hermione if Voldemort crossed their path as he left?

But he would see his parents, he knew it, something he dreaded almost as much as he yearned for it. What would they think of him as their son? As everything went dark, there was a bright light that surrounded him and he felt serene...

Shift

Everything hurt, and he couldn't stop shivering; it was so cold.

Shift

He's alone, and he usually prefers to be alone, but now he would be happy for the Dursleys to be around. They were out for the evening, and he was alone, locked in his cupboard and he was so cold. The light from under the door had gone out a little after the wind had started, the house creaking and groaning in the storm. Each crack of thunder sent a thrill of fright through him. He wished he had a mother, like Dudley did, who would hold him during the storm, but he knew he could never have that. He was alone, he would always be alone.

Shift

He tried to wrap his sheet around himself tighter, a futile attempt to keep the cold out. He had been awake for what seemed like hours. He couldn't sleep when it was this cold.

Shift

Surely he was dying, how could he not be when he felt as sick as he did. He lay on the cold kitchen floor as his uncle came into the kitchen and took one look at the mess on the floor before turning his attention to Harry, his face quickly reddening, and angry words spewing forth. The first blow falls and he really truly wishes that...

Shift

They were laughing, everyone was laughing, and Harry didn't understand. It wasn't even funny. There was probably something he didn't understand, something about him. He knew he was different now, but he still didn't understand why it was funny. It never made him laugh, whatever it was. He wanted to do something, or say something so that they would stop, but he knew that it would only make things worse. He stayed silent and hated himself for it. He picked himself up off of the floor, and walked away, fighting the same tears that hadn't fallen for almost a year.

Shift

It echoed on and on in his head. He couldn't get it out. He had had to get out. Away from where everyone could see him. They would see, they would see he was such a freak. They would know. They could see. They could tell.

He kept running. He didn't know where, he didn't care. He had just had to get out. Even though he couldn't get it out of his head. The cold rain pelted down as he ran and he wished it could wash him away.

Shift

He couldn't breathe, his already panicked mind verging on hysterics. It was all his own fault. He was going to die and he could have stopped everything, if he hadn't been so scared. He wished he could go back in time, and that this day would never come. He wished someone would save him, but knew that no one would, since he hadn't even tried to save himself.

Shift

The cold left him and he felt warm. He was safe. He drifted off into unconsciousness.

"Anyway, I bet the Headmaster knows and he's keeping it quiet. He wouldn't want everyone to know that his Gryffindor golden boy is a deranged werewolf. If I can get proof, father could probably get him expelled."

Severus smiled at the thought of Potter and his rabid friend in front of the school board, being stripped of their Hogwarts Crests. Yet still...

"Your father is no longer on the board Draco; he has burned bridges there and it is important that you keep that in mind. If you lose sight of that, there could be a power shift, and it won't be in your favor. Besides, I should hope that with third year starting, your schemes will no longer entail getting your father involved."

"Father still has clout with Chromarty," Draco said, ignoring everything else Severus had said.

"Something the rest of the school board is very aware of, believe me."

"Still, they'll expel Potter if they find out he's a werewolf," Draco said confidently.

"I take it you have not yet checked the full moon calendar, or you would know that the full moon rose approximately ten minutes ago. Sadly, I do not hear the tortured screams of Potter's cohorts." Though he could almost hear Black, Pettigrew, and Potter screaming in terror as the monster in their dorm tore them apart.

"It is?" Draco asked, extremely disappointed. "It doesn't matter, I can work with that. If he thought it was bad with everyone thinking he was the Heir of Slytherin, just wait until everyone thinks that he's a werewolf. I can make this work; I just have some thinking to do." With that, Draco turned in the direction Crabbe and Goyle had run some moments before.

"Yes, please do," Severus said to himself, as he removed the privacy ward he had previously erected.

While he would certainly enjoy seeing Potter being taken down a peg, he had hoped that Draco would aspire to be more than Hogwarts rumor monger. He scowled at the compartment that he knew housed Potter. When Draco had entered, he had had some hope for an excuse to put the boy in detention before he even reached Hogwarts, but it wasn't to be. The boy's brashness had taken up much of his time over the summer, and Severus planned to get that time back from him through detentions throughout the year, he would get back from Potter what Potter had taken from him. He remembered quite vividly a detention he himself had served in his third year after Potter had gotten him in trouble, two hours of gutting stink slugs. That would be Potter's first detention this year.

It wasn't much later that Severus noticed that the train was slowing. He checked his pocket watch in alarm. It was too early for them to have arrived at Hogwarts; something was wrong, it must be an attack. Severus took out his wand as the train came to a halt. Potter should have been portkeyed directly to Hogwarts. Now he would have to save the brat once more, or die trying. Perhaps Lily would greet him on the other side; but no, she wouldn't want to see the man who had destroyed her family. Her blood was on his hands, she would no sooner greet him than she would the Dark Lord. He would be as alone in death as he was in life. Though how many of those that he had killed would haunt him; would torment his eternal rest. Rest, or damnation.

Odd, how he didn't even recognize the effects of the dementor as it approached, not until he saw his own breath before him, and the abomination was soon gliding past him. Did it know how close he had been to living in a hole on that blasted rock it hailed from?

It was looking for those who had escaped it, but it wouldn't find them, not here. It was hopeless.

The thing went from compartment to compartment. It had no eyes to see, but it would know when one whom it had fed upon before was near. However there was little chance that any of them were here, Severus had already checked.

It stopped in Potter's compartment. Why had it stopped? Had it found someone? He needed to do something, but he couldn't think what. It was hopeless anyway. It came to him though, he needed a Patronus. He couldn't hope to be able to summon one, but he had to try, he owed too much to Lilly not to try. He needed a happy thought, but none were forthcoming. He needed a memory. His mind was running rampant. He needed to bring order to the chaos. Occlumency; he needed to clear his mind.

He focused, he fought; and slowly his mind became a haven once more. Now he needed a memory, a happy one, he grasped back, he would have to go far back. It was hard, even with a clear mind, the dementor's effects made it so hard to think of a happy memory. A memory surfaced, he was twelve and the satisfaction he had been feeling faded as the fifth year Slytherins who had just chased off Potter's gang had him pressed against a wall, now that they were out of sight of others. He had embarrassed their house with his weakness.

Severus put the memory away, there was no happiness there. He grasped for another; his simple task made difficult by the oppressive weight of the dementor on his mind. Another memory surfaced, but he put it away quickly when it became clear, his father yelling at his mother while a seven-year-old Severus sat in his seat staring at his empty dinner plate. He wouldn't find many happy memories at home.

He grasped at another memory but knew instantly that it was no good. He felt it immediately, the jealousy and the hurt, as he saw Lily walking down the hall next to Potter, the look in her eye the same as it had once been around him, before he had ruined everything, before Potter had ruined everything. Lily though, Lily had been his joy. Before he had lost her, she had made him happy. Before he had driven her away. He turned back in his mind, back to before, when they had been happy, when they had been innocent.

He grasped for a memory, and there was music. He didn't like it. He was dancing, he really shouldn't be. Really if anyone saw him moving so awkwardly, with two left feet, which you wouldn't see if he were dueling, he would probably die on the spot. Yet none of that mattered, not when he had this girl in his arms. Lily was smiling so broadly, beaming up at him as they moved about the unused classroom to the tune of some oddball muggle musician. He would have stayed in that moment forever, if he could have.

"Expecto Patronum," he said. There was a bright flash of silvery light and a magnificent specter appeared, the sight of it shocking him. It was a doe. Yet that was Lily's; it had complimented her husbands. His was a panther. When had it changed? He hadn't cast a Patronus since before her death.

His Patronus walked up to him and he felt its protection through the clarity of Occlumency, enjoyed the memory that had summoned it from afar. He scanned the hallway, looking for the dementor. Where was it? Had it left Potter's compartment while he struggled? Had it left the train car? He looked in the first compartment on his left, full of crying first years.

"Eat chocolate," he commanded, before he continued checking each compartment, his Patronus following after him. Halfway down the train corridor he could feel it, even through his Patronus. He checked two more compartments before he found what he sought. Of course it was still in Potter's.

The wraith stood in the compartment with the three Gryffindors. It did not turn around when Snape entered, but it did perceptively stiffen at the presence of his Patronus. There was Weasley, both arms up, his hands grasping his hair as he rocked back and forth. Granger, tears running down her face, her arms wrapped around herself as she stared at Potter who was unconscious on the floor, twitching and jerking occasionally. Of course Potter wouldn't be able to handle the dementor. What did he know of misery? With a thought, his Patronus charged forward, and the dementor fled the compartment.

The Granger girl was now at Potter's side, calling his name urgently. Likely in her demented mind, she was convinced that whatever was wrong with her friend was very dire. Weasley too now seemed to be coming out of his stupor and was showing concern for the boy on the floor.

"Do cease your histrionics, Potter will be fine," he snapped, turning to leave and ensure the dementor hadn't stopped to feast in another compartment. "And eat chocolate," he said through clenched teeth. Honestly, a whole train car of children he had to tell to eat chocolate. His reputation would be ruined.

He entered the train corridor and made sure that the dementor finished its job and left quickly. As he did so, he started collecting his thoughts and organizing his mind. Odd how quickly and naturally Occlumency came back to him; like flying on a broom. He hadn't practiced Occlumency in almost twelve years, not since Voldemort had been vanquished and it was no longer necessary. Not since Lily had died and it had been so much easier to wallow in grief and anger than it had been to bring order to the chaos of his mind and face the whole reality of what he had done.

He pulled a vial out from his robe and downed it in a swallow as he followed the dementor out of the train car and stepped out onto the space between cars. He watched the wraith fly off to the milling mass of its brethren, a swarm of shadows. He put a hand on the Patronus at his side. He thought of Lily and his mind went back to the boy in the compartment he had just left.

It was odd that Potter should collapse like that, odder still that the dementor had been so drawn to him. Perhaps the boy had a weak constitution. But no, an image sprang to mind, the foolish boy standing next to an unconscious troll. Could the boy be ill? It would explain the loss of consciousness. He would have Madame Pomfrey check the boy that night. He could just see the boy laid up in the hospital wing, milking an illness for all it was worth, just like his father, always looking for attention. Yet unbidden, images sprang to mind of many times over the summer when the boy had hid his scar and attempted to duck the notice of the other patrons of the Alley. Severus scowled and almost stopped occluding that moment; it was so much harder to see what you wanted to when you were occluding.


IIIIIIIIIIII


Harry's return to consciousness was slow, and he thought he could hear someone crying. Not like before, someone had been screaming before. Harry opened his eyes. His right shoulder and elbow were sore as well as his neck. He also felt fairly melancholy but oddly comforted at the same time. He looked around; he was on the floor. Hermione was next to him, she had been crying, and now that he was looking at her, she was wiping her eyes. He found Ron on his other side. He felt like he should know what had happened, but he didn't, his mind was foggy, and the events of that afternoon were jumbled in his head.

"Here," his friend said, holding a chocolate frog in front of him. "This'll help." Harry noticed that Ron had chocolate at the corner of his own mouth. He also noticed his somewhat haunted expression.

"What happened?" Harry asked, taking the chocolate and sitting up.

"A dementor searched the train," Ron said. "It was awful."

The train was moving again, Harry noticed.

"Professor Snape drove it off," Hermione said.

"Took his time, didn't he," Ron said mulishly.

"He even told us to eat chocolate, which has helped," Hermione said giving Ron a pointed look.

"I don't remember any of that," Harry said. "Who was screaming?"

Hermione and Ron shared a concerned look.

"No one was screaming Harry," Hermione said, sounding a little worried.

Harry was confused, nothing they said made sense, why didn't he remember anything, and why hadn't they heard the screaming, he was sure a woman had been screaming something, though he couldn't remember what. Why had all of those old memories popped up?

"You passed out when it came in," Ron said. Harry looked at him incredulously. He couldn't have passed out. Well, he had a couple of times growing up at the Dursley's, but there had been reasons then.

"What is a dementor anyway?" he asked.

"Dementors guard Azkaban," Ron said, he sounded somewhat far off. "They just suck the happiness out of you and make you miserable. They're why no one's escaped Azkaban before, escape's a happy thought, see?"

"Well why'd I... why'd it make me unconscious?"

"I dunno, maybe that just happens to some people," Ron said.

There was silence for a bit, and Ron grabbed another chocolate frog and started gnawing on it absently.

"You don't seem affected by it," Hermione said. "Not like we are," she continued with a frown. "It's more like you're upset about passing out than that you've been affected by the dementor."

"I don't know, maybe because I wasn't awake it didn't affect me the same," Harry shrugged. He didn't feel as miserable as Hermione and Ron looked. He certainly was far from happy, and he had a headache for some reason, but both of his friends looked like they were in a world without sunshine. He wouldn't say that he was unaffected, but Ron had a point.

"But you were," Ron said. "You were twitching and jerking the whole time."

Harry ducked his head, very self conscious at the moment.

"Oh Harry!" Hermione exclaimed. "Your neck."

"What?" He asked.

"You must have hit something when you fell, you're getting a horrible bruise," she said, now next to him, pulling his collar down to get a better look. She prodded it.

That wasn't right, Harry didn't bruise easily, he never had, no collapse was going to bruise him like that. But then, the spell... What was the spell? He had memorized it. What was it? He couldn't think. His head still as foggy as it had been when he woke up. He needed to see the spell. It was in his trunk.

"I need my trunk," Harry said, standing up and climbing up on his seat to get at the luggage rack. He had to pause for a head rush.

"Harry, you should sit down, if you hit your neck like that you could have a concussion," Hermione said, sounding very worried. Of course that just worried Harry even more, could he be bleeding into his skull?

"A concussion?" Ron said. "Harry's a wizard, a fall like that isn't going to hurt him too bad."

"Look at his neck," Hermione said.

"I really need my trunk," he said urgently, shifting things around on the luggage rack.

"Harry," Hermione said plaintively.

"Ron," Harry said.

Ron got up and helped Harry get his trunk down. Harry opened his trunk and was somewhat struck by a high-pitched whine coming from somewhere within that he ignored. It took him a moment to remember where he had put the letter, which was odd, since he did remember specifically putting it in his trunk.

"Need help mate?" Ron asked.

"Um," Harry started to say yes, when he saw the folded up letter sticking out of his copy of Quidditch Through The Ages.

"I think we should ask Professor Snape to take a look at you," Hermione said.

"Are you mad?" Ron asked.

"Or a Prefect," Hermione said.

"I'll be right back," Harry said, standing up. "Got to use the loo."

"If you feel nauseous, that's a sign of a concussion," Hermione said, very worried now.

"I'm fine," Harry said. "I'll be right back

He left the compartment quickly and headed down the hall to the loo. Of course it was occupied; it sounded like a boy was crying inside. He probably wouldn't be getting in anytime soon. Should he wait or look for a loo in another train car. He could be bleeding to death on the inside at that moment for all he knew, though he didn't know much.

He looked down the corridor; it was empty. Harry looked at the letter, quickly finding the two spells. He focused, which wasn't easy, and cast the diagnostic spell. His wand glowed red. The blood spell had worn off. It shouldn't have yet, but then, external magical forces wore away at it, and Harry had probably been exposed to more of that since the spell had been cast when he was a baby than most children his age. At least it had lasted as long as it had, it had probably been on its last leg when he had been at the Dursley's that summer. Harry shuddered at the thought of how many times he had been seriously injured over that time.

Yet it had lasted, and long enough too, though just barely. He could do magic on his own now. His fuzzy head had worked its way into a splitting headache, but Harry focused on the blood spell and cast it upon himself without further delay.

He didn't feel any different. Would he? The letter didn't say. He cast the diagnostic spell again, and the tip of his wand glowed a vibrant blue. He checked the letter again. Blue meant it was at full strength. He sighed in relief, he would be fine.

He turned to go, but the crying from the loo caught his attention. He felt like he should just let whoever it was be, but found himself knocking on the door anyway.

"Hey," he said. "Are you alright in there?"

"Go away," a distraught voice said.

"Alright," Harry said. "Just wanted to make sure you ate some chocolate after the dementor left."

"Justin said we can't, 'cause Professor Snape told us to, so it’s probably bad. He told me all about him, and now I know than I'm going to hate Hogwarts, and I'll be sad all the time, and I should just go home and be a squib," the crying boy said miserably.

"Are you a first year?" Harry asked.

"Yeah," came the reply around sniffles.

"Well," Harry said, not really sure what to say. "The thing about Snape is, even though he's really mean, he takes some things very seriously. Actually, he's saved my life a couple of times, so if he says you should eat chocolate for the dementor, then it's probably a good idea. I know I felt better after I had some."

"Really," the boy asked.

"Yeah," Harry said. "Do you have any chocolate?"

"No," came the reply from the other side of the door.

"I've got a chocolate frog in my pocket, if you want it," Harry said digging out the chocolate.

There was a pause and then the door slid open. A miserable face peered out, truly, Harry suspected prisoners on their way towards execution probably looked happier. He took the chocolate from Harry's hand and Harry wondered if he should go, his job done.

"Is Justin your brother?" he found himself asking.

The young boy nodded his head, mouth full of chocolate. "He said Professor Snape tests experimental potions on first years."

"You know, one of my best friends, his big brothers told him first years had to fight a mountain troll for the sorting, which is silly."

The boy looked worried. "Justin said they test us on how many first-year spells we learn before we get there. But he just told me today, I haven't had time to study."

"Don't worry, the sorting's easy. It isn't even really a test. Just focus on what house you want, and you'll be fine."

"How does it work?"

"It's a surprise, but don't worry, you'll be fine," Harry repeated.

"Ok, um, thanks for the chocolate," the boy said with faint trace of a smile. He returned to his compartment.

Harry leaned against the wall of the corridor for a moment and closed his eyes. His headache was still going strong and he was glad the conversation was over. Figuring he should get back to his compartment before Hermione came looking for him, Harry turned around and froze. Halfway down the corridor, hidden in the shadows was a tall black cloaked figure. Easy guess who it was. How long had he been there? Long enough to hear the spells Harry had used? Snape would know what they meant, at least in part. Yet Snape didn't say anything, didn't even look like he was paying attention to Harry.

Harry walked back to his compartment, not looking at Snape. He hoped the man hadn't heard what he had said to the boy.

"I was beginning to worry," Hermione said when Harry walked in the door.

"Beginning to?" Ron said. "You were worried the whole time."

"No need to worry," Harry said. "I'm fine really."

Ron tossed him a bar of Honneydukes finest as he sat down, which he managed to fumble.

"What did you need to read in the loo?" Ron asked.

"Um," that had him stumped. "Look we'll talk about it later."

Ron nodded, but Hermione wasn't so easily placated. In the end though, Harry wasn't about to tell any version of the fact that he had hemophilia, with Snape right outside the door. Assuming he hadn't already seen everything.

Harry put the parchment back in his trunk and this time paid attention to the high-pitched noise.

"What's that?" Hermione asked.

"Isn't that the Sneakascope?" Ron asked.

Harry found the crystal that Ron had given him for his birthday.

"It might be a bit wonky," Ron said. "Or maybe Malfoy's in the next compartment."

Harry just shrugged and wrapped the crystal in an old sock, glad to muffle the noise that seemed to rebound around the inside of his head. He closed the trunk and with Ron's help, hoisted it up onto the luggage rack, while Ron explained to Hermione what a sneakascope was.

The rest of the trip was fairly uncomfortable. Harry had wanted to rest his eyes because of his headache, but Hermione had practically panicked at the thought that he might have a concussion and had resolved to keep him awake. At least he was able to keep her from getting Professor Snape to check on him.

Her decision to look up dementors in one of her extra books hadn't helped anything. The picture inside and the description of how a dementor fed were disgusting, and what Harry couldn't get out of his head was the only part of the picture where one could see any part of the dementor beneath its cloak, it's hand, looking like little more than bones with taut pale skin stretched over it. Like a body left to dry out in the desert, like death. All in all, between the lingering melancholy, the headache and the ache in his elbow and neck, Harry rather wanted to skip the feast and head to bed when he got to the castle.

The students getting off the train in Hogsmeade were a rather somber bunch, and Harry hoped that the mood of the school would improve during the sorting and the feast. The first-year students were separated from the rest and were gathered around Hagrid, the very large and tall man standing out among the tiny first years. Harry waved to the man as they passed.

The next rather rude shock of the evening came when they got to the carriages. They looked just like the carriages that had carried Harry to the train station at the end of each school year, except that those carriages had been carried by magic, the hitches where a horse would have gone were always empty. Yet now the same carriages had no empty hitches, they were occupied, but not by horses. If dementors rode horses, Harry thought that this was what they would look like. Pure black hide, stretched out over a horses skeletal frame, with two great wings, like a bat's. Harry stopped in his tracks to stare at the specters.

"You alright mate?" Ron asked. Ron didn't seem to think anything of the death horses.

"I'm fine," Harry said. "Just wondering about the weird horses."

"What horses?" Hermione asked.

"Those horses," Harry said, pointing at the carriages and having little patience at that moment for stating the obvious.

"Harry, there's nothing there," Hermione said.

"Maybe you were right about that concussion," Ron said to Hermione.

"I'm not concussed, I'm not seeing things, I'm fine," Harry said a bit heatedly, his headache flaring up around the loudness of his own voice in his head. "Back me up here," Harry said to a forlorn looking Neville who had just walked up to their carriage with Ron's sister.

"Huh?" Neville said, seeming surprised to find attention upon himself.

"You can see the weird death horses, right?" Harry demanded.

"Um," Neville stammered looking fairly confused and worried.

"It's alright Neville, Harry hit his head on the train, but he'll be better after he sees Madame Pomfrey."

"I do not need to see Madame Pomfrey," Harry said, turning around and getting into the carriage.

Ron and Hermione followed, and a moment later Neville and Ginny got in as well. The carriage started moving and Harry was somewhat relieved for the awkward silence. Neville kept shooting Harry worried looks, like he was worried he was locked in with a crazy person. Though, as he calmed down, Harry started to wonder if he really was seeing things, otherwise, why hadn't everyone else seen the horses.

"So, Neville," Hermione broke the silence. "How was your summer?"

On anyone else, Harry would have said that the look that flashed over Neville's face was dark, but he had a hard time attributing something like that to Neville.

"Um, well," Neville said, his mind clearly somewhere else at the moment. "Gran' took me to Spain, though we had to come back early; my granda's turned a bit ill."

"Oh, I'm sorry to hear that. What did you see in Spain?" Hermione asked politely.

The two carried on the conversation for a bit more, neither one seeming to be that interested in the conversation. The whole carriage was rather subdued. Harry had started to think about what to tell Ron and Hermione about the hemophilia when the carriage approached the school gates and Harry saw just a flash of a black cloaked figure outside the window when everything seemed to stop as an image of a woman's body exploding filled his head and he felt like he had plunged into the Great Lake in the middle of winter. It passed quickly though, and he found himself slumped over half leaning on Ginny, who had tears in her eyes that she hid quickly behind the sleeve of her robes.

"Are you okay, Harry?" Neville asked, his face a haunted mask as Harry righted himself.

"Yeah," Harry said, now hoping that Neville would believe Hermione's nonsense about a concussion. He didn't know why he was reacting to Dementors differently, but he really didn't want others to know about it. Things were bad enough without everyone knowing that he was weak.

It took him a moment while staring at his lap to notice the chocolate frog Ron was holding silently in front of him.

"Thanks," Harry said, to which Ron shrugged.

The rest of the ride up to the school was silent as everyone gnawed on chocolate.

Getting out of the carriage, Harry was almost surprised to see that the horses were still there, but he didn't say anything this time. He walked up the stairs, managing to bang his hip on the guard rail, not being entirely with it at the moment. Hermione gave him yet another concerned glance. With luck he could slip up to the dormitory and just go to sleep without anyone noticing.

Hermione didn't need to keep track of him, however, since Professor McGonagall was waiting for them when they walked into the entry hall.

"Mr. Potter, Miss Granger, please follow me," she said when she spotted them.

"We need to see Madame Pomfrey," Hermione said, casting a worried look at Harry, as Harry glared at her. "I think he has a concussion."

"That is in fact part of the reason I am here to collect you, now come along so you don't miss too much of the festivities."

They both turned to follow her, and as they passed the doors to the great hall, Harry could see Snape properly, with the man's own face, for the first time since he had literally walked into him in the Alley. The man gave him a piercing look, and Harry turned his head away; before scowling at his own behavior. Harry really didn't feel much like enjoying any festivities.

Their head of house led them to a small room not far off from the entry hall where it happened that Madame Pomfrey was waiting for them.

"Oh dear, you look awful, come here and let me take a look at you," the matron said to Harry. She turned to Hermione. "Did he lose consciousness suddenly or gradually?"

"Gradually," Hermione said. "And he was sort of twitching a bit. But I think he has a concussion, he's developing a big bruise on the back of his neck, he must have hit something when he fell, and he seemed drowsy and he was seeing things."

"Seeing things?" Madam Pomfrey asked, seeming alarmed.

"I wasn't seeing things, they were there," Harry said defensively.

"What exactly did you see, Mr. Potter?" Professor McGonagall asked.

"Winged horses," Harry said. "Pulling the carriages."

Professor McGonagall and Madam Pomfrey both gave him pitying looks.

"Those are thestrals Mr. Potter," Professor McGonagall said. "They have always pulled the carriages, but only those who have seen death can see them."

Harry took in a sharp breath and he heard Hermione gasp as his thoughts turned to the woman who had saved him.

"Enough said about that," Madam Pomfrey said. "Lets take a look at this head of yours."

She put one hand on the back of his head suddenly and Harry practically flinched while her other hand withdrew her wand and brought it up to his head.

"Oh, don't look at me like that," the matron said as she tapped the tip of her wand on the top of Harry's head, followed by his temples and right between his eyes while murmuring an incantation. She looked him right in the eyes; or rather, right through his eyes, and frowned.

"A bit more serious than a concussion it looks dear, your brain was bleeding, but it's stopped. Most likely your magic protecting you. Now, let's make sure nothing else is wrong," she said before waving her wand over Harry's chest. Harry felt a warm energy in his rib cage

Madame Pomfrey frowned. "It looks like Greyback did a number on you over the summer," she said. "I'd heard you only sustained minor injuries."

Harry momentarily panicked at the thought of where some of the injuries she was seeing had come from. Would she be able to tell if she looked closer.

"Um, a car actually," he said. "I got hit by a car while he was chasing me across a street."

"And did you tell anyone, Mister Potter?" Professor McGonagall asked sternly.

"It wasn't going very fast," Harry said defensively. "Sorry." He was used to dealing with pain over the summer. Good at ignoring it.

"You have a few hairline fractures," Madame Pomfrey said. "Some more on the mend than others. You're lucky, your internal organs don't look to have sustained much damage."

She tapped his head again with another incantation and Harry felt the headache clear rapidly. She then started taping her wand on various places around his body muttering the same spell, healing the fractures. Harry was about ready for the floor to swallow him up by the time she was done poking and prodding, though he'd forgotten what it felt like to be completely without pain as now not only was his head cleared, but all the little aches in his joints and in his ribs had completely vanished. Though she’d missed his hip, where he’d bumped into the banister, but that wasn’t even worth mentioning.

"Well there's no medical reason for him to have passed out," the matron said, getting back to the original topic.

"So why did he faint then?" his professor asked, and Harry's face flushed red at the terminology.

"Not enough research has been done on the effects of dementors, but different people react differently, Potter just had a strong reaction it seems."

"Should he stay in the infirmary tonight?" Professor McGonagall asked, and Harry's eyes opened in shock.

"With a head injury, yes, for observation," Madam Pomfrey said.

"What?" Harry said. "I feel fine. I don't need to sleep in the infirmary."

"Perhaps he can still attend the feast," Professor McGonagall said, ignoring his protests. "I dare say he will not be outside of observation there."

"Yes, that should be alright," Madam Pomfrey said to the professor.

She turned to Harry and Hermione. "Have you two had any chocolate?" She asked.

"Yes," Hermione said. "Professor Snape told us to eat some."

"Good," Madame Pomfrey said. "Make sure to drink the hot chocolate tonight. There should be pitchers at all of the tables. And you Mr. Potter, I'm half tempted to tell you no quidditch if I can't trust you to take an injury seriously."

"What? No! I'm sorry. I'll be good," Harry said quickly in a near panic.

"See to it that you are," the matron said.

'Well," Professor McGonagall said. "That seems to be in order, Mr. Potter if you would step outside, I have a small matter to discuss with Miss Granger."

Harry wondered what she could have to say to Hermione in private, when he had just had a medical exam with an audience, but he walked out without saying anything.

He stepped outside with Madame Pomfrey and waited for Hermione to emerge.

"Remember Mr. Potter, hospital wing, right after the feast," Madame Pomfrey said as she made her own way to the great hall.

With his head no longer feeling like it was going to explode, and outside the company of his friends, Harry's mind turned over some of the memories dredged up by the dementor, replaying some moments in his head, analyzing them, judging them, playing the games of what-if. He stopped himself with a scowl. There was no point in thinking about any of it, and it certainly wasn't a good way to start the school year.

Harry was brought out of his reverie when the door to McGonagall's office opened. The Professor and Hermione walked out.

"Thank you, Professor," Hermione said to Professor McGonagall in parting as their head of house took the passageway that lead to the door behind the head table, and Harry and Hermione turned towards the entrance hall.

"What did Professor McGonagall want?" Harry asked.

"What," Hermione said, seemingly surprised that Harry would ask such a question. "Oh, she just wanted to talk to me about my class load this year, I'll be taking a few more than most other students.'' She paused. "Are you alright?"

"Oh, yeah," Harry said. "My head feels much better now."

"No, I mean about everything else," Hermione said, looking at him with worry.

"What everything else?" Harry asked, suddenly worried that Hermione somehow knew everything he had been hiding, as she often did.

"You know," Hermione said with some exasperation. "The dementors and the thestrals, and everything that happened over the summer."

"Well sure," Harry said. "I don't know, I'll be fine." And as they walked into the Great Hall, he started to feel like he would be. The atmosphere was a bit more subdued than Harry was used to a Hogwarts feast being, but between the floating candles, the smell of chocolate in the air, and the general sense of being home, Harry was suddenly glad that he hadn't slunk off to the dorm when they had arrived at the castle.

The two of them soon spotted Ron and made their way to the seats he had saved them at the table. Harry noticed that they had missed the sorting and very briefly wondered where the first year from the train had been sorted.

"Have some chocolate," Ron said, poring some of the steaming beverage into their mugs from one of the many carafes lining the otherwise empty table. "What did McGonagall want?"

Harry wasn't about to say that he had had a check up while surrounded by other students, and was saved from having to say anything by Professor Dumbledore, who rose up at that moment to give his start of term speech.

"Welcome students," his voice filled the room. "I am excited to see the school filled once more with young minds, all here to learn and explore the wonders and the mysteries of magic. I have only a few start of term announcements before our feast may begin. First, it is my pleasure to announce that this year we will be having two new professors. Professor Lupin, our new Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor, could not be here this evening, but he will be in bright and early tomorrow morning for classes. As well, while not quite new, our very own groundskeeper, and the Keeper of the Keys for Hogwarts school, shall now henceforth be, Professor Hagrid, our Care of Magical Creatures instructor, since Professor Kettleburn has decided to retire with what remains of his limbs."

Harry looked over at Hagrid in surprise; of course the man would assign a biting book. He found himself smiling genuinely though as he applauded the announcement. Hagrid, Harry could see, had tears in his eyes, and was clearly very proud of his new position.

"The Forbidden Forest," the Headmaster continued with the usual warning. "Is off limits to all students due to the large quantity of very dangerous plants and animals found therein. As well, our caretaker Mr. Filch would like me to remind all of you that spell use in the halls is strictly prohibited, as is a host of very fun things, a list of which can be found posted outside of his office. Lastly now, I must impress upon you the seriousness of this last announcement. Until such a time as it is deemed safe to do so, the border of the grounds of Hogwarts shall be guarded by several dementors from Azkaban prison. Students are not to try to approach them for any reason, and anyone attempting to sneak past them will be discovered. They are not fooled by disguises, or invisibility cloaks, and they do not understand excuses, or pleading. They are merciless in what they do, but in the end, they are here to protect this school from those who might do us harm."

Here the headmaster paused to let this last announcement sink in, though Harry didn't think anyone actually needed to be told to stay away from dementors. "Now, this has been much too much of me talking while you are all awaiting the feast. So, tuck in, enjoy the various chocolates, and enjoy the feast."

At the word 'feast' there appeared on every table more food than Harry thought decent, and students all around started piling food on their plates. Harry took a drink of the hot chocolate, and it really did make him feel better.
"All right there, Harry?" Ron asked.

"Yeah," Harry said, realizing he had been looking around for a moment, not touching the food. "Just taking it all in. It's good to be back." He grabbed the spoon for some mashed potatoes.

As far as Hogwarts feasts went, this one started out a bit more subdued than was normal. Yet as students warmed up and reconnected with friends, and drank heartily of the hot chocolate, the atmosphere started to take on the usual atmosphere of a feast.

"So what did McGonagall want?" Ron asked again.

"Well she wanted to make sure Hermione would be ok taking a ton of extra classes," Harry said. "And she'd heard I hit my head on the train so she had me checked out, turns out I'm fine."

"Fine," Hermione hissed. "You were bleeding into your skull."

"What?" Ron asked, sounding alarmed.

"Madame Pomfrey said it had already stopped by the time she checked me out, so see? I'm fine," Harry said in exasperation, though he kept his voice down and gave Hermione a look telling her to do the same.

"Oh, you are such a boy," Hermione said.

"Last time I checked," Harry said with a grin.

"Girls do the same thing," Ron said.

"No we don't," Hermione defended.

"It's the same thing Ginny always says when she thinks mum's babying her. She said she was fine that one time she twisted her ankle and spent half a day limping 'cause she wouldn't admit she'd been climbing trees."

"Well, boy or girl, it's just stupid, and you are staying in the Hospital Wing tonight for observation."

Harry scowled at that. He wasn't about to bug everyone by whining.

"That's rough mate," Ron said.

"Madame Pomfrey's just worrying too much," Harry said. "Like you, and it's no wonder I always say I'm fine."

"You got hit by a car and didn't say anything," Hermione said.

"What?" Ron asked.

"She said they were only minor fractures," Harry said. "They'd have healed before long on their own. The car wasn't even going that fast. It's not like I was bleeding to death or had a bone sticking out of my skin. I was fine."

"You'd say you were fine if you were eviscerated," Hermione said.

Harry opened his mouth to reply but Ron cut him off. "Careful mate, she probably knows a spell that'll do that."

"Oh, do either of you even know what that means?" Hermione asked.

Harry shrugged, and Ron said, "No, I just know you."

The evening wore on, and Harry found himself very glad to have not skipped the meal. He was even glad to have been made to see Madame Pomfrey, so he could enjoy the evening without a headache. Of course, the evening had to end eventually. As the rest of the students made their way to their dorms, Ron, Hermione, and Harry waded their way up to the head table to see Hagrid.

"Oh, Professor Hagrid, congratulations," Hermione said to the very large man.

"None o' tha' now, you jus' call me Hagrid. It's all down ta you three, isn't it, clearing my name last year. An' Dumbledore o' course, great man Dumbledore."

"Well, you'll be the best Magical Creatures Professor this school's ever seen," Ron said. "You should have had the job ages ago." Hagrid was all but blushing at this point, clearly very happy for the title he had shrugged off earlier.

"Can't wait for our first class, Hagrid," Harry said. "I'm sure we'll have loads of fun." Or at the very least, they'd have a good deal of excitement, Harry could almost imagine Hagrid introducing the whole class to a dragon first thing.

"Oh, it'll be great, just yeh wait, won't spoil the surprise though. Now, you three get along, you'll wan' ta be rested up fer your first day of classes." With that, Hagrid got up from the head table and headed out.

"Well," Harry said. "I'll see you two tomorrow."

"Oh, we'll walk you to the Hospital Wing," Hermione said.

"I'm not going to do a runner," Harry said.

"I know, but you still need to tell us what was with that parchment after the dementor on the train," Hermione said. Harry suddenly felt like doing a runner.

"Fine," he said. "Come on, before Madame Pomfrey starts a search party."

As they walked through the corridor towards the Hospital Wing, Harry looked around nervously to make sure no one would overhear. He wasn't about to tell them where Madame Pomfrey could overhear.

"I found out over the summer that I've got, like some sort of magical variant of hemophilia," he said in a near whisper.

"You can't have secretly had hemophilia," Hermione said matter of factly. "You'd be dead by now without treatment."

"I had treatment," Harry said. "They cast a spell on me when I was a baby. It wears off eventually, though it should have lasted longer. I'll explain more later, but my parents posted a letter to be sent to me when I turned thirteen. It explained everything. There's a spell that tells me if I need to renew the treatment or not, but I couldn't do it over the summer without help, I had to wait till I could do magic on my own. When you noticed the bruise, I figured the spell had worn off, I needed the notes to do the spell right."

"Why didn't you tell anyone?" Hermione all but shrieked. "Do you know how easily you could have died without treatment. What if you hadn't woken up on the train, or if I hadn't seen that bruise, no one would have known to check, you'd have just kept bleeding into your head. You could have died. For crying out loud you got hit by a car this summer."

Harry tried to shush her, very worried about someone overhearing.

"What do you mean, what is it?" Ron asked, now very worried.

"Hemophilia, Ron, it means that Harry's blood doesn't clot right, and it varies from case to case, but even a small injury can be life threatening," Hermione explained. "You need to tell Madame Pomfrey."

"No," Harry said, emphatically. "Then she'd figure it out, and I don't want anyone to know."

"Figure what out?" Hermione asked.

Harry had a big stupid mouth. "It doesn't matter," he said eventually. "It's not life threatening, so just drop it. I have everything under control. I renewed the spell, it'll last a good long while, and I'll check it regularly, so just drop it, it's really really private."

There was silence for a moment as they walked towards the Hospital Wing.

"You alright, mate?" Ron asked.

"Yeah, it's just… Look just, I'm not ready to talk about it, okay. I mean I don't need to do anything about it. Or… I don't know. You'd freak out if I told you. But it's not something you need to worry about; I'm not. So…." Both of his friends were looking at him with worry.

"Just… I'm fine, alright, it's just weird," he told them. They had arrived at the Hospital Wing.

"Right, well, you should get back to the tower. I'll see you at breakfast tomorrow," he said.

He tensed a moment as he found himself receiving a hug from Hermione.

"You know you can tell us anything, right Harry?" she said.

"Of course," Harry said. "Have a good night."

"Good luck," Ron said, as he and Hermione turned down the corridor.

Harry walked into the Hospital Wing and was soon set upon by Madame Pomfrey.

"Well now, alright, just you get ready for bed dear, and I'll come check up on you before you go to sleep," she said, as she guided him towards a bed, just outside of her office.

Harry found a set of hospital pajamas at the foot of the bed and he went into the restroom to change and wash his face. It was when he was changing that he saw a bruise on his hip, peeking out over the edge of his shorts. Madame had overlooked it in the face of all the fractures but Harry hadn’t expected to see evidence of it. He frowned, that was where he had bumped into the railing earlier, but that had been after he had done the spell on himself. He shouldn't be bruising so easily. He cast the diagnostic charm, this time from memory. His wand glowed red. He felt somewhat shaken, Hermione's words about the risks of the illness and his own assurances that he had it under control coming to mind. He must have cast it wrong, it hadn't taken, that was all. Just the effects of the dementor making him do it wrong. It just hadn't lasted. He cast the charm on himself again, followed by the diagnostic. Blue. Harry smiled. There now, he thought, everything was fine. He'd check again in the morning, just to be sure.

He was soon sitting on the side of the bed, quite ready to go to sleep after the excitement of the day. It turned out that checking up on him was Madame Pomfrey's way of saying that she'd cast a half dozen monitoring charms on him before he went to sleep. Harry recognized a couple of them from his stay at the end of first year.

"Now I don't want you staying up tonight," the matron told him. "You need plenty of rest, so I want you to go right to sleep. I'll know if you're not." With that she headed into her office and the lights in the room dimmed. Harry wasn't sure what she expected him to do, since he didn't have any of his books or anything to occupy himself with. He was asleep less than a minute later, dreaming dreams he would be happy to forget when he woke up.

Madame Pomfrey insisted on doing another checkup in the morning, and he barely had time to down some breakfast before it was time to go upstairs to the tower and get his school supplies and a robe that he hadn't been wearing while passed out on the floor of the Hogwarts Express. Ron had gotten his timetable from Professor McGonagall and the three of them all left the hall to get what they'd need for their first classes. Harry had forgotten all about the things Malfoy had been saying the day before on the train, but after bumping into a Slytherin first year on their way out, Harry was quickly reminded as the boy turned very pale and all but ran away from him. Had Malfoy told all of Slytherin? Did they believe him?

"Don't worry Harry," Hermione said, "it'll blow over soon enough."

"Yeah, just like it did last year, and the year before that," Harry muttered.

"Oh, a person just has to be around you for a moment to know you're not a werewolf," Ron said.

"Well let's just make sure everyone knows it was the full moon last night," Harry said. "Let Malfoy explain why I didn't change on the train."

"So show Harry your time table," Ron told Hermione.

"Oh, don't worry about that," Hermione said. "So, I can't wait for divination, can you imagine?"

"She's got a bunch of classes at the same time," Ron said. "Should have told McGonagall before she no-shows to two classes at once."

"Don't worry," Hermione said. "I've got it figured."

Ron gave a bewildered look to Harry who just shrugged.

Once they reached the tower, they all ran up to their dormitories, grabbed their books and headed off in search of the elusive Divination classroom. Hermione's book bag looked a lot heavier than their own.

"Too bad we don't know any divination yet, we could find the classroom that way," Ron said as they made their way down a hallway after getting turned around again after getting directions from a portrait.

"I think we could be looking at a map of the school right now and we'd still be lost," Harry said.

"That would be useful though, someone should make one," Ron said.

They made it eventually, but even though Harry was pretty sure that they were late, the Professor just nodded her head to them placidly as they climbed the ladder into the tower classroom. The classroom didn't look like a normal classroom. Instead of desks and chairs, there were small round tables surrounded by poufy cushions. The trio found themselves a table to themselves.

The class started out well; Professor Trelawny made the subject sound fascinating and exciting and mysterious. Hermione kept frowning at what the Professor said, especially after the woman mentioned that the subject wasn't something that could be learned from a book. Everything was going fine until the professor had quite dramatically predicted Harry's near and impending death.

Fortune telling wasn't a sure thing, was it? Maybe knowing the future meant you could change it. He'd have to read his book better. Hermione assured him as they left the class that he probably shouldn't worry about it. It wasn't like he had a history of almost getting killed or had at least one escaped murderer actively hunting him.

The next class, Care of Magical Creatures started out well also, though Harry had felt odd when he caught a glimpse of the dementor's patrolling the wall off in the distance. Actually, the class was pretty awesome. Hagrid had brought amazing creatures called Hippogriffs to the first class which was held out on the grounds of the school. They looked like winged horses with an eagle’s head and front legs. Hagrid had asked for a volunteer who wanted to approach the creatures, which were apparently very temperamental. No one had volunteered, and Harry hadn't wanted Hagrid to have a bad first day teaching, so he had wound up approaching the creature. It was as he was doing so that he really noticed how sharp the creature’s talons and beak were and he remembered his just recently predicted death. Of course, he wasn't about to let Hagrid down.

Hagrid had surprised him by having him ride the beast, which had flown around the paddock before letting him off onto his slightly shaky legs. It wasn't at all like flying a broom; he wasn't in control at all, but it had been exhilarating. Malfoy had just had to ruin things.

Harry had been half tempted to start a fight with the boy when he saw him. In between classes, Harry had noticed more and more students looking at him like he was a monster, as he had become very well accustomed to the year prior, and at the start of class, the Slytherins had huddled together pointing occasionally at Harry. It was when Harry got off of the animal and was walking back to the rest of the Gryffindors that he heard Malfoy's comment.

"Well of course it was easy for him, he's more beast now than human, it's like watching two animals," Draco's voice carried.

"What's he talking about," Lavender Brown asked, when Harry got up to the rest of them. Unfortunately, she asked loudly enough for Malfoy to hear.

"Oh," the boy said. "He hasn't told you? Of course he hasn't told you. Greyback got him over the summer. He's a werewolf now."

"Don't be stupid," Parvati said. "Harry's not a werewolf."

"You wouldn't know about it, but father heard all about it over the summer," Draco said, really emphasizing his father's inside knowledge. "You all probably heard Potter got attacked by Greyback when he was all alone in the muggle world. What they aren't spreading around is that he went missing after that. What no one is talking about is that Potter got himself captured and infected by Greyback. He didn't escape; Greyback let him go so he could infect everyone in the school. You lot will be first."

"Oh, this is stupid," Hermione said. "It was the full moon last night. It rose while we were all on the train."

"Funny though, isn't it," Draco sneered at her. He turned to take in his crowd. "He's given himself away trying to cover it all up. I saw him on the train, but he wasn't acting right. It was probably one of Dumbledore's cronies under polyjuice, and then of course, surprise surprise, one of the Professor's is missing from the opening feast. And what happened next? Potter didn't spend the night in Gryffindor Tower. They weren't about to have a teacher sleep over with a bunch of third years, so Potter conveniently took ill and had to spend the night in the Hospital Wing, where no one but Dumbledore's people can verify if he was actually there."

"Dumbledore wouldn't let a werewolf into the school. Besides, Harry's obviously not a werewolf," Seamus said.

"Of course he would, the muggle loving old fool would rather let all sorts of filth into the school, half-breeds and mudbloods. He won't stop until the castle's crumbling around him," Draco said angrily.

"What did ya say about the Headmaster?" came a dangerous voice behind Draco that Harry had only heard once before.

Draco turned around to find Hagrid towering over him, but for once since Harry had met him, they blond boy seemed to be at a loss for words.

"Go! Just, go." Hagrid said gruffly.

Draco collected himself and sneered, but turned around and walked off as though he had merely become bored.

"An' tha'll be a detention t'night, after yer last class," Hagrid said to the boy’s back.

There was an awkward moment when no one said anything.

"Righ' well, les no' stop the lesson," Hagrid said. Hagrid had them break out into groups to approach the hippogriffs.

All of his fellow Gryffindors made small comments of support and belief in Harry, but Harry couldn't help but notice slightly worried or speculative looks here or there.

After class, the trio stayed back a moment to congratulate Hagrid once again on his new position, and the large man assured them that they would be having more than a few adventures in his class that year. They then rushed to get to Transfiguration, not wanting to be late for their first class with their head of house. Halfway there, Ron had turned to say something to Hermione, only to find that she wasn't there. The two took a moment to look around, both certain that she hadn't passed them. Surprisingly, she was already in the Transfiguration classroom when they arrived.

"How'd you do that?" Ron asked.

"Do what?" Hermione asked, her cheeks blushing.

"You were right next to me one moment, then you disappeared, then we find you already here when we get here," the freckled boy said.

"Oh, I must have passed you without realizing it," Hermione said.

Ron looked like he didn't want to leave it at that, but at that moment Professor McGonagall walked in and the lesson began.

Transfiguration too had started out well; it wasn't until the end of the lesson when Parvati Patil had held up her Hogsmeade permission slip and asked their Professor when they would be turning them in that things had taken a sharp nosedive. Harry was smiling to himself at this point, for his form had already been turned in, and he was still rather proud of the accomplishment that that had been. However, Professor McGonagall had sighed at this point and her usually stern demeanor had softened for just a moment.

"You may as well pass them forward now if you would like, however," the professor frowned, "I should tell you now that you may not need them. It has not been decided yet, and we are still working with the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, but as of right now it appears that until such a time as those who have escaped from Azkaban are captured, there will be no visits to Hogsmeade."

There were quite a few groans and cries of dismay at these words, but Harry didn't make a sound. He just felt his stomach plummet. He had gone through quite a bit to get his form signed and now his painful victory over Uncle Vernon just seemed like a bad joke the world had played on him.

Next was lunch, and after that was the class that Harry had been dreading. Double Potions, with the Slytherins of course, because that wasn't a recipe for disaster. Harry briefly entertained the idea of meeting his predicted fate from a Slytherin tampered exploding cauldron; but it wasn't really his classmates that had him apprehensive of the class. He rather didn't like the idea of spending two hours with his bio-dad glaring at him and insulting him.

Oddly enough, though, Snape didn't really do either of those things. Oh, he was far from friendly to anyone, and he had taught in the same cold, superior air that he wore like a cloak while using words they barely understood to explain the days lesson, but he barely looked at Harry at all, and Harry could almost think that during the practical part of the lesson the man had been almost more helpful than cutting in his critiques of the students he passed as he stalked through the room. He even stopped himself halfway through chewing out Neville Longbottom for ruining his potion before he looked at Hermione of all people and ground out "tell him how to fix it," before turning away. The man didn't even insult Harry once, and Harry found the atmosphere of the room lacked just enough malice to work in and managed a halfway decent potion, which Snape had walked past with indifference.

Draco, of course, was a different matter entirely. He had been whispering to his fellow Slytherins constantly during the class whenever Snape wasn't looking, shooting Harry smug vindictive glares the entire time, but Harry ignored him… for the most part. He mollified himself with the knowledge that Malfoy had a detention on the first day of class.

Harry could hear Hermione quietly helping Neville fix his potion, which he couldn't believe Snape was allowing. Not that he could imagine the man giving her points for it, like any other Professor would.

With his potion done, Harry found himself waiting quietly for other students to finish up. Unlike Malfoy, Harry wasn't about to get away with talking in class. As he sat there, his eyes occasionally following Snape as the man stalked around the classroom, he found himself wondering what the man's story had been. Why had he joined Voldemort? Why had he left? Why did he keep looking out for Harry when he clearly hated him? Like the night before. He hadn't just chased off the dementor; he had told them to eat chocolate and then told Madame Pomfrey to check him over. Perhaps most surprising of all, the man hadn't said a thing about it since. Harry had passed out, and Snape hadn't said a word. He could have spent the entire class humiliating him about it, but he hadn't. Why?

He didn't have too long to ponder these questions; soon the whole class was getting ready to leave, but as Harry shoved his books and supplies into his bag, he found himself mulling the most over the fact that he really did want answers to those questions. Which he shouldn't. He really didn't care a bit about Snape. The man wasn't anything to him, so why should he even think about him outside of not running afoul of the man's temper.

The thing about Mondays, Harry thought as they all walked down the halls to their next class, was that everything was crammed together. It was nice in some ways, since all of the classes except for potions were shorter, but with five different classes in one day, everything just sort of jumbled together. Take Tuesdays for example. Two classes, just two, one before lunch and one after. They were extended periods, but all he had to worry about was two classes for the day. At least the variety of Monday's made the day go by a bit faster. Of course, having five classes on the first day of school also meant a fair bit of homework to start everything off with.

After leaving Potions, Harry, Ron, and Hermione walked with the rest of the Gryffindors to the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom for the last class of the day. Defense had always seemed like it should have been an amazingly exciting class, but if one excluded the fact that both of the previous defense teachers had sent him to the hospital wing and had made attempts to kill or permanently incapacitate Harry, he had to say quite conclusively that it had always been a boring, and at times very unpleasant, class. However, it was a new year and a new professor, so Harry found himself cautiously optimistic about Professor Lupin.

Professor Lupin had not at all been what he, or likely the rest of the class, had been expecting. The man looked almost shabby compared to the other professors of the castle. He had threadbare clothes and a look about him that said that he was old before his time. Indeed, he looked like he hadn’t slept at all the night before, or maybe like he was recovering from a cold. But the most off-putting part about the professor was that he had numerous faint scars covering his face and hands. Yet he greeted everyone with a warm smile and a good afternoon and promptly told everyone to take out their wands and leave their bags at their desks and then without so much as handing out a syllabus or giving any sort of introduction to the class, escorted them all out of the classroom and down the hall to the professor’s lounge.

Professor Snape, it seemed, was not teaching a class at that moment and had in fact been lounging in said lounge when the class shuffled in. Harry briefly entertained the notion that Professor Lupin was going to teach the class how to defend themselves from Snape. When he saw the class file in behind Professor Lupin, however, Snape got up from his couch and left, giving the defense professor a light sneer, and a snide remark about the competency of Gryffindors.

Only a few minutes into the class, Harry found himself liking the new professor. Oh, time would tell if the man was a dark wizard who for some unfathomable reason wanted to kill him, but for now, Harry decided Defense Against the Dark Arts was probably going to be a fun class that year. Professor Lupin started the class by introducing the class to an actual dark creature, a bogart, for this lesson. A creature that could shape shift into whatever the worst fear of its victim was, according to Hermione, who explained it to the class when the Professor had asked for the answer. A creature that was in fact hiding inside a wardrobe in the room. The professor was both engaging and knowledgeable and was soon calling for a volunteer to face the bogart. Though, at this point, he still hadn't explained how one did that.

Harry felt lucky to not find himself in a similar situation to what had happened in creatures class, almost everyone raised their hand to volunteer. Harry, it seemed, was not the only one who was enjoying defense this year. A host of Gryffindor hands shot up and soon Parvati Patil was standing in front of the class.

"Alright now Miss Patil, what form do you think the boggart will take for you?" Professor Lupin asked the girl.

"Um," she suddenly looked self-conscious. "A mummy."

Professor Lupin nodded. "Now the trick to getting rid of a boggart is to make it turn into something funny. Turn your own fear into something you would laugh at. There is a spell that will help us do this, but what truly banishes a boggart, what sends it packing is laughter. Now can anyone tell me what advantage we have, with a creature that turns into the greatest fear of the person it faces? Harry," he said without waiting for anyone to raise their hand.

Harry didn't know if the man was calling on him because he was the boy-who-lived, or if he planned to put all students on the spot to answer questions but found himself searching for an answer anyway.

"Because there's so many of us," he hazarded.

"Yes," Professor Lupin said, "precisely. Large groups confuse it, what scares one person won't scare another, and laughter, I have found, is infectious. So, Miss Patil, can you think of any way to make a mummy funny, to make us laugh out loud?"

"Well." Parvati thought. "What if it tripped on its own bandages and face planted?"

"That would be amusing," Professor Lupin said. "But surely there is more you can do to your greatest fear."

"Oh," Parvati said. "What if a loose bandage got tugged away, and it spun around like a top, unraveling… and falling to pieces."

"There we go," Professor Lupin said. "Now when those doors open, the boggart will come out and when it sees you, it will take the form of the mummy. It won't hurt you, so all you need to do is to picture the mummy getting unraveled and spinning like a top. The incantation is Riddikulus, and the wand movement is a simple slash, like this. Now everyone else, think about your greatest fear, and be ready to turn it into something we can all laugh at. Are you ready Miss Patil."

She nodded.

"Alright everyone, back up, so that the bogart can focus on one person at a time, and when I call your name, step forward to take your turn."

With that, the rest of the class backed up, and left Parvati to face the bogart. Professor Lupin flicked his wand and the wardrobe that the bogart had been hiding in burst open. A mummy walked out. It had to be two whole meters tall, and it had two yellow glowing eyes. It gave a menacing groan as it lurched toward Parvati, who did indeed look very frightened. But she held her wand up firmly and cried out "Riddikulus."

A loose bandage from around it's middle suddenly jerked backwards, and suddenly the mummy was spinning like a top, its limbs splayed out, bits of it flying off, and the classroom erupted into laughter.

"Mr. Weasley approach please," the Professor said.

Ron walked forward, a determined look on his face. There was a pop, as Ron walked forward, and standing in place of the spinning mummy was a giant spider, reminiscent of Aragog, the large arachnid that lived in the forbidden forest. A couple of students screamed when they saw it, but Ron quickly called out the incantation and the spider lost all of its limbs, rolling across the floor.

Professor Lupin called more students up and Harry saw a banshee loose it's voice, and a sunburnt vampire.

"Mr. Longbottom, if you please," the professor called.

Neville walked forward, white as a sheet and with a pop, the sunburnt vampire turned into a person whose face everyone in the class had seen in the newspaper. Belatrix Lestrange let out a cackle and Harry saw Professor Lupin start to walk forward, but Neville gave a very angry "Riddikulus" and Belatrix gave a scream as she seemed to crack up like a porcelain doll which exploded into a thousand pieces. Neville gave a very non jovial 'hah,' and turned on his heels to join the rest of the class.

"Miss Granger, forward please," Professor Lupin said, not seeming to be phased by what he had seen.

As more students went up there was more and more laughter, but Harry couldn't decide what his greatest fear was. He tried to think up a few so that he wouldn't be surprised. When he realized he was the only student left who hadn't yet faced the boggart he took a step forward, getting ready, though not sure what to expect. He made eye contact with the professor to let him know he knew it was his turn. Yet as the class was laughing at a walking severed hand that had found itself trapped in a mouse trap, Professor Lupin said, "Alright, I think we've about finished it off, Miss Patil, if you would do the honors."

Parvati walked forward and the mummy appeared again.

"Riddikulus," she called out jovially. The mummy once more found itself unraveling and spinning, and the whole class gave a rousing laugh and the whole creature seemed to go up in a puff of smoke and door to the wardrobe slammed shut.

"Excellent," Professor Lupin said. "Excellent everyone. Let's see, that's five points for everyone who faced the bogart, and an additional five for Mrs. Granger and Mr. Potter for answering those questions earlier. Well done everyone. Now, let's get back to the classroom and I'll go over a few things you'll need to know for the term."

The class exited out of the professor's lounge, all talking excitedly about the lesson, a couple people giving Neville an odd look. No one, it seemed, had noticed that Harry hadn't gone forward. No one except Professor Lupin, and Harry found himself pretty miffed. Why had he been excluded? First the man called on him when he hadn't been raising his hand, then he kept him from participating in the practical exercise. Did he think Harry was incapable of handling a bogart? He had a sickening thought. Had Madame Pomfrey warned the faculty to watch out for poor delicate Harry, who had fainted because of the dementor? Did they all know, did they all think he was weak? Maybe Professor Lupin had heard about his predicted death and had decided not to take any chances in class. Had the professor only called on him earlier so he could award him points when everyone else had gotten points?

He would have to make sure the man knew he could handle himself just fine. He had faced Voldemort and a Basilisk, and a whole clutch of giant spiders. He wasn't about to sit out on the sidelines of the class just when defense was getting interesting.

That night after dinner, Harry found himself avoiding Hermione. He could tell that she wanted to talk more about what they had discussed the night before. About the hemophilia, and more importantly, why Harry was so desperate that no one else know about it. Harry wound up heading up to the dormitory after he got up to the tower. He had a thought about getting a start on some of the little homework already assigned, or rather he wanted to read about death omens in divination, but was derailed when he opened up his trunk.

There sitting on top of his possessions was the letter from his parents and Harry was suddenly reminded that there had been two things he had been waiting for over the summer: making sure he wasn't about to bleed to death, and revealing the secondary letter that his parents had written. The sheets of parchment held two letters. The letter that he had read; the one that only he could read, and the one that anyone else looking at the parchment would see. The letter that one would expect parents who worried about surviving a war might write to their son. A letter full of stories about their lives, stories that told him who they were. The one Harry hadn't been able to read without a simple spell to switch which letter he could view.

His parents had probably never dreamed that he would be raised in the muggle world. They had probably thought that even if they had died, he would have been raised by people who cared, people Harry could have trusted with the letter. However, he was on his own, and waiting to do either of those spells over the summer had been a little bit of torture.

Harry gathered up the numerous pages of parchment and sat on his bed and drew the curtains.

"Albus," he heard his name called from his fireplace. "This is Amelia Bones, we need to talk.

Albus waved his wand opening the floo connection wide and patiently awaited the woman who soon stepped into his office.

"Good evening, Headmaster, I hope you are well," she said, taking the chair he indicated.

"I am, and I hope that you are as well Madame Bones, however judging by that look I can see that you have some unpleasant news for me."

"Crouch is dead," She said bluntly.

"I see," Dumbledore said. "I had heard he has been working himself very hard since the breakout, but something tells me he did not work himself to death."

"Hardly," Madame bones said. "He was tortured, extensively. The Cruciatus Curse is only one of the spells in our murderer's repertoire. They even killed the poor house elf."

"Do you know who 'they' are?" Albus asked.

"Not officially, no. They took care to disguise magical signatures. But with Belatrix Lestrange and the rest of those monsters on the loose, we have a rather short list of suspects as of right now. Merlin preserve us Albus. It's starting to feel like the war never ended. People disappearing, people found dead in their homes. They left the dark mark over the manor. Twelve years since last I saw it. Fudge is still talking about the tournament for next year as if we aren't fighting a war, as if Hogwarts isn't under guard by dementors."

"Has there been any indication whatsoever of what the others are doing?" Albus asked.

"None," Amelia said. "It's as though they've fallen off of the face of the planet. Beckett has been spotted a couple of times. We have a pretty good idea of where Greyback has set his sights, but the others are in the wind."

Albus was pensive for a moment.

"What word have you had from our neighbors?" he asked.

"The answer is somewhat unanimous from the continent. If they see any of them, they will detain, but they have no intention of actively searching. Not much different from the war. Do you truly think they have gone abroad? They would not want to risk too many border crossings." She gave him a very questioning look, and he knew exactly what she wanted to ask. Though she knew not to ask it as well as he knew not to answer it.

"I do not believe Voldemort is in Britain, and I do not think it will take them long to reason this out either."

"You are sure?" she asked.

He nodded, and she did not probe further. They had discussed the Dark Lord's whereabouts before and there was little use going over it all again.

"We should have sent Aurors to find him twelve years ago, and damn the treaties," Amelia said.

"My dear Amelia, it is best not to get too much in the habit of should haves. When you live to be as old as I am, you find the list grows rather long. Now, perhaps we can discuss the number of dementors you have laying siege to my school."


IIIIIIII


The moon had been hard on him the night before. Hiding frequently behind clouds, he could not revel in its glory and power, and his need to stay hidden had kept him away from prey. He would have to go hunting soon. Of course if he could grab the boy soon he would have training to do. An easy hunt wouldn't be satisfying but it was always fun to see a new initiate wake up covered in the blood of their first kill.

His finger found the knot in the tree he was crouched beneath and the swaying branches froze. Cloaked in illusion and wards, he climbed out of the tunnel and looked up at the castle that loomed across the grounds. He wouldn't be going there tonight. He would not attack until he was ready. He loped across the grounds to the forest. It would be his home for some time.

How he wished he could just forget Potter. His duty was to protect the boy, nothing more. The boy had no need of Severus's concern. Yet he had realized, he didn’t have need of his scorn either, and Severus knew he himself would be much better off if he could just ignore the boy's presence all together. The problem was, he couldn't just forget the boy. It wasn't the fact that he saw the boy too regularly in classes, nor even that he was regularly trying to save the fool boy's life. It was that the boy was so much a part of the last two years of Severus's life, and well before, for that matter. Severus could not look at him without seeing his own mistakes; his sins, his losses, his shame, his rage and impotence.

Occlumency allowed him to clear his mind of those feelings; to push them back and analyze them. He was able to see them for what they were and put them in context. In the end though, he wouldn't stop despising James Potter; he couldn't stop loving Lily; and didn't see how to separate the boy and his duty from the two ghosts of his past. It didn't matter that he understood these emotions and their roots. Nor did it matter that he could push them to the background, because that wasn't the same as getting rid of them.

So much was different now. He could view his past behavior and see it for what it was, and that in itself was painful. He had made a caricature of himself. He had turned his competitiveness to pettiness; his love to jealousy; his wit to a bullying taunt. The magic he had once immersed himself in had become a chore. In the clarity of Occlumency, being able to push away the shame and disgust did not change what he knew about himself, and the temptation to return, to go back to his petty victories and miserable wallowing was strong. He imagined Lily, eleven years old again, sharing a nervous look with him before their sorting; he imagined her seeing him as he had been these past many years. He imagined himself looking at the man he had become.

Seeing the Potter boy in class and walking the hall with his friends was a constant reminder of all of it. For Potter represented his greatest shames in so many ways. The clarity remained now, whether he occluded or not, the epiphany would not go away, but with Potter in the room, he felt it best to keep himself in check.

There he was, sitting in the back of the class, as usual. Severus had given the boy a wide berth since the term had started, and he found he was much more tolerable that way. Potter kept his head down, completed his potions and homework, and as long as Draco and his hangers-on did not start trouble, the class usually went smoothly. Oddly enough, grades had started going up, and Longbottom had somehow managed to not melt a single cauldron. He would think on the matter later, without Potter in sight.

Draco was another matter. Severus was well aware of the rumors he had started concerning Potter, and while he couldn't be bothered to care about Potter's social standing, he did care about Slytherin's. The absurd rumors would eventually be disproven; Draco, and thereby Slytherin, would look the fool in the process. The boy simply could not see that. Perhaps he truly believed Potter was a werewolf. It didn't really matter. His house shouldn't look like fools or rumor mongers. That would not lead them anywhere.

That was yet another thing. It had been a while since he had seen Slytherin House, and his headship, as anything more than the perpetuity of an ancient rivalry. A fight in which he had lost and had been trying to win for a very long while. Soldiers in the crusade to deflate the egos of Gryffindor House and those who had wronged him. When he thought about Slytherin house now, and the state of the students he had loosed on the world he was rather glad that the painting of Salazar Slytherin, and indeed all of the founders, had faded long ago. That he could not hear the voice of scorn from the legend he had revered as a youth was a blessing. The question now lay in fixing what had been broken since the war had ended. Severus did not know how to go about it.

He did know that there needed to be change. He did not love teaching. He did not care for being responsible for his house. Yet he was, and lacking pride for what he did, for his responsibilities was a low he did not wish on himself.

"Time is up," he said. "Bottle your potions and bring them to the front of the class." Then on a whim, he said, "If you failed to produce the potion correctly, give me eighteen inches on the correct brewing method and where you went wrong for partial credit."

There was a pause in the classroom as the students took that in.

"Well don't lollygag," he snarled for good measure. "Get a move on."

The students all rushed to clean up the classroom and get out. Though oddly enough, it was Potter who was the last one out; looking like he wanted to say something before he walked out the door.


IIIIIIIIIII


"Now, who can tell the class where kappas are most commonly found?" Professor Lupin asked.

Harry's hand was up before Professor Lupin could finish asking the question.

"Someone other than Mr. Potter," Professor Lupin said, with a wry grin.

Hermione got that all the time from other professors. She'd answer too many questions during the class and the professor would insist that someone else answer the question. This was the first time that Harry had ever gotten the treatment and he grinned in spite of himself. Answering questions right wasn't going to show the professor that he could hold his own, but it was a start to at least making sure the man knew he was competent. He wasn't about to be passed over in a practical exercise again, or let the professor think he was weak; and if that meant reading ahead for each class, then so be it.

Next to him Hermione gave him a small smile, after she finished answering the question. He hadn't told her why he was trying so hard in defense; he wasn't even sure if she had noticed the Professor skipping him with the boggart. She was just happy that he was taking the class seriously.

It wasn't that he didn't usually participate in class, but he never liked to draw too much notice from the professors. Old habits die hard, and though he wasn't as bad as he had been in his first year, he still felt uncomfortable showing off or getting too good grades. Not that it was as easy to get good grades as it had been back in primary school. He wasn't about to try to rival Hermione in all of their classes, he knew that even at his best he was outclassed. In defense though, he was willing to give her a run for her money, or at least try to.

The spell that was most commonly used against a kappa was a little unpleasant, so the professor wasn't about to let the class torture one of the creatures for practice. Instead they practiced on a charmed block of wood that would let them know if they had cast the charm right.

"Mr. Potter," Professor Lupin said as he invited Harry to try the charm first at the front of the class. "I like to reward participation with more participation."

Harry was more than happy to go and perform the charm first. Happy to show the professor that he was capable. Though, really, it didn't exactly mean anything if he wasn't at least facing the creature. This was the third class, and they hadn't actually faced another creature since the boggart. Harry completed the spell, the professor complimented his annunciation, and he sat back down as the rest of the class filed down to perform the spell.

Mr. Lupin was a great teacher; he was shaping up to be Harry's favorite. Indeed, it seemed a number of students shared the sentiment. Snape was the only person who seemed to dislike the man.

An hour later classes were over, and the trio headed back to the common room before dinner. Or so Harry thought; he and Ron were soon being dragged into an unused classroom by Hermione.

"Hey," Ron said.

"No more excuses, we need to talk about this," Hermione said.

Harry didn't need to ask about what.

"What do you want to know?" he asked Hermione.

"Well for starts you're going to need to show me these spells instructions so I can learn them. I mean what if there's an emergency, and you can't do it yourself."

"I can't show you the spell instructions," Harry said. "The paper's charmed so only I can read it. I can teach you though, if it really matters."

"Of course it matters," Hermione said.

"I'm surprised you haven't already read a book about it," Ron commented.

"Advanced medical books are in the restricted section," Hermione said, clearly put out to not have access. "All I could find were books that described symptoms, pathology, and heredity."

Harry thought she stressed heredity a bit, but he was probably imagining it.

"So there's two charms, the first one keeps me from bleeding to death, the second one checks to see how well the first one is holding up. Sang Vitalis Charm and the Sang Vitalis Diagnostic."

He quickly went over the two spells with Hermione and let her cast the diagnostic charm on him.

Was it just his imagination though, or did the blue glow of the charm have a slightly greenish tint to it?

Hermione insisted Ron learn the spells too, and soon Harry was thinking about heading to dinner a bit early as an excuse to finish everything up. Hermione, of course, wasn't done with her questions, though she didn't really look like she knew how to go on.

"Harry," she started, holding the book she'd been carrying very tightly under her crossed arms. "It's just that I got the impression that you wouldn't have told us about this if it hadn't been for that dementor, and I'm wondering, if something else were wrong, if you would tell us. We're your friends, and friends want to help each other."

"What else could he be hiding?" Ron asked. "Wait you don't actually think he’s a werewolf do you?"

"I didn't say that he was hiding anything, and of course I don't think he's a werewolf, don't be stupid," Hermione said. "I just want to make sure." She paused. "Like if you had trouble at home."

"This is my home," Harry said.

"Exactly," Hermione said, as though Harry had said something much more profound or meaningful than he intended. Clearly, even though she wasn't saying right out that she thought he was hiding something, she thought he was hiding something.

"What are you even on about?" Ron asked confused.

"Nothing's going on with the Dursley's, they're their usual awful selves," Harry said guardedly.

"Well that's sort of the point isn't it," Hermione said. "It isn't right, and if they're..." She paused, very uncomfortable. "Why didn't you tell anyone you were hit by a car?" she asked.

Harry was very confused about the change in topic.

"I...it wasn't a big deal," he said. He had been fine, and he didn't understand why Hermione was going on about it.

"Getting hit by a car is a big deal," Hermione said almost indignantly. "Now either you did get hit by a car and fractured a bunch of bones-“

“Hairline fracture,” Harry input.

“Fractured a bunch of bones and didn't say anything for some unfathomable reason,” Hermione continued. “Or you got hurt some other way that you didn't want to talk about. But Harry, if you were getting hurt at home... in Surrey you need to tell someone."

Harry didn't know what to say for a moment, realizing where Hermione had taken the conversation. He knew he needed a quick denial, else Hermione would know she had hit on something, but the words didn't want to form in his mouth as panic started to set in. It also boggled how Hermione was always right, even when she was wrong.

"Harry can't be getting beat up at home," Ron said. He turned to Harry. "Didn't you say your cousin's been terrified of you since the tail."

"I didn't say he was getting beat up by his cousin," Hermione said.

"I really did get hit by a car," Harry said mulishly, finally able to push the words out. He didn't know how to get Hermione off of the subject. What if he couldn't? What if she decided to tell a teacher?

"So why didn't you tell anyone?" Hermione asked.

"Because," Harry said a little heatedly now that the words wanted to come out. "Because with everything else that happened that afternoon, that was the furthest thing from my mind. A werewolf tried to maul me, I saw a woman get killed... no, exploded, and I'd just flown around London for hours trying to find the Leakey Cauldron, and I was tired, and I wanted to be by myself. And I was only sore, when I could have been exploded, or kidnapped, or bitten, and I wasn't going to whine about it when it was only just sore, and nothing was really broken-broken. And that Auror who patched me up kept giving me weird looks and I just wanted him to go away."

The fact that getting hit by his uncle's car had tied into him getting kicked out of the house and left to fend for himself had also put it in the form of things he didn't talk about, and the fact that it had been his uncle's car pretty much put it behind the Dursley's own statute of secrecy that he had been following since long before he had heard of the wizarding one.

"I don't think you should go back next summer," Hermione said.

"I told you it's fine," Harry said.

"It's not fine Harry," Hermione said and Harry was horrified to see that she had tears in her eyes. "Bars on your window is not fine. Just eating leftovers is not fine. A coat hanger for Christmas is not fine. Living with people who've hated you since you were a baby because you have something special that they don't is not fine."

"It's not that bad," Harry said. "It could have been a lot worse." Harry knew that there were worse things than the Dursleys and kids out there who had a lot less than he did.

"Just because things could be worse, doesn't mean it's alright though," Ron said awkwardly.

Harry looked over to Ron in shock. Not Ron too! He had expected him to take his side on this.

"Look, you never wanted to talk about this before," Harry said. "Now all of a sudden you act like I'm living with Death Eaters."

"Well I should have," Hermione said regretfully. "I'm sorry I didn't. It shouldn't have taken you coming to school with broken bones for us to have this conversation. It's been obvious since we became friends that you shouldn't be living there, and... I feel like I've let you down never saying anything before."

"'Mione's right," Ron said. "We should have raised hell when we had to rip those bars off your window. I mean, it's not like we can really do much of anything about the Dursleys, but we can just kidnap Harry again next summer."

Harry was having a hard time understanding where they were coming from. After he’d realized how much even the little things bothered them, he had stopped complaining about the Dursleys, and it had been a long while since he had even mentioned them. He'd certainly never indicated that he needed to be rescued.

"What do you mean we can’t do anything about the Dursleys?” Hermione asked. “We just need to tell an adult," Hermione said.

Harry thought his heart had stopped in his chest when Hermione said that, and he felt like he had completely lost control of the situation.

"What are they going to do?" Ron asked.

"Well there's an office of child welfare, or something like it, isn't there?" Hermione said.

"What's that?" Ron asked.

"Well like, who placed all of the war orphans with families after the war? I mean I know of at least a dozen here in the school."

"There's not some agency that takes care of it," Ron said. "They all either went to their closest blood relative or godparent, but most people had that ironed out ahead of time during the war, any dispute'd be handled by the courts. I think there's also a little orphanage in London, for kids without families or godparents, but that's about it."

"Well what happens if someone needs help at home?" Hermione asked.

Ron shrugged. "Aurors I guess, but only if a crime's been committed, and it would have to be pretty bad for it to be that."

"What do you mean it would have to be pretty bad, hurting kids is a crime," Hermione said.

"Well it probably should be, I mean mum and dad never held with hitting us for stuff, but you don't think Filch is joking about the whips and chains in his office, do you? The only reason they don't give out lashings for rule breaking anymore is because Dumbledore got the school board to ban it. I don't know, I think most kids here probably don't have to worry about it, 'cause their parents aren't gits, but it still isn't illegal."

"Well that's horrible," Hermione said. "Somebody should do something." She looked over at Harry, who was still at a loss for how to turn his friends from the topic at hand. "We, need to do something."

"Right, well we could talk to McGonagall, see if you have any other options," Ron said.

"Just stop," Harry said desperately, more to the situation than to his friends. "Just stop ok. I'm not going back, so you don't have to worry. I'm not going back to the Dursleys next summer so just stop talking about this, and don't even think about talking to Professor McGonagall. Please, you can't. Can't we please just forget about this?"

"What do you mean you're not going back?" Hermione asked. "What if they catch all of those escaped convicts. I don't think they're just going to let you spend an entire summer at the Leaky Cauldron."

"It doesn't matter, I'm not going back. I'm never going back, no matter what. I can't," Harry said. "I'll work out where I'll stay, but I'm not going back, and the Dursleys aren't about to call up the ministry and tell them I never came back."

"But what if someone does say you have to go back?" Hermione asked.

"Well it doesn't matter, because they kicked me out," Harry yelled, and instantly regretted it.

"What?" Ron asked.

There was a moment when no one said anything.

"I got back to the house after getting chased by Greyback, and getting hit by a car," he said with a bit of emphasis. "And when I told them a dark wizard was after me, they kicked me out."

"Oh Harry," Hermione said with a pitying look.

"Don't give me that, you should be happy," Harry said defensively. "This is what you wanted isn't it?"

"Just because I wanted you out of that house, doesn't mean I wanted you to go through that," Hermione said.

"It's not a big deal," Harry said.

"Oh of course not, that's why you lied about it and didn't tell anyone," Hermione said peevishly.

There was another moment of silence.

"You can stay at the Burrow again, next summer. I can work it out with mum," Ron said.

"Mine too," Hermione said. "You shouldn't have to stay at an inn for an entire summer."

"I'm not staying at either of your homes," Harry said. "I shouldn't even stay in Diagon Alley while Greyback is after me."

"So what are you going to do then?" Ron asked.

"I don't know," Harry said. "I'll figure it out."

"Are you sure you don't have any other options?" Hermione asked, with the same emphasis as before. Harry's cheeks flamed. He was fairly sure she suspected, at least in part.

"None that I want to explore," Harry ground out. Ron looked weary of asking what they were talking about.

"Then you should talk to Professor Dumbledore," Hermione said. "He would make sure you went somewhere safe over the summer."

"I can't just tell him the Dursleys abandoned me," Harry said in disbelief.

"Sure you can," Ron said. "Just go in and say 'Professor, the Dursleys were bigger jerks than usual and they kicked me out of the house. Good riddance, I say, but I'll need someplace to stay where werewolves can't get me.' Who knows, he might let you stay here."

That was certainly a better conversation to have with the Headmaster than the one Hermione had wanted him to have a moment ago, but what would the Headmaster think if he knew how much the Dursleys couldn't stand him?

"I'll think about it," Harry said.

Hermione opened her mouth to say something, but Harry cut her off.

"Dinner's starting soon. We should go," he said, and with that he turned and walked out the door.

Ron and Hermione followed after him, and though neither of them spoke, Harry could tell that they both wanted to.

"So Professor Lupin was friends with my dad," Harry said, in part to completely change the conversation. "They shared a dorm here, my godfather too, Sirius Black, and another bloke. They were all close friends, from the sound of it."

"How'd you find that out," Ron asked. "He didn't tell you, did he? You should never trust the Defense Professor, I think."

"Ronald," Hermione scolded. "You shouldn't say that. Professor Lupin seems like a very good professor. Just because there have been troubles before..."

"Troubles before?" Ron crowed. "Do you mean when one of them tried to kill Harry a few times, or when the professor you'd been mooning over tried to erase our minds and drive us crazy?"

Harry wrinkled his nose at the thought of their second-year defense teacher.

"Well you drive everyone crazy, so you can hardly blame him for that one," Hermione said loftily. "Anyway, how did you find out, Harry?"

"The letter my parents wrote me, it had a lot more than what we talked about. There were a bunch of stories from the both of them."

"That's great," Hermione said. "It must be nice to learn more about your parents."

"Yeah," Ron said. "That must be cool. Uncle Billius used to tell great stories about dad and him when they were our age."

"So is that why you're trying so hard in defense?" Hermione asked.

Harry wasn't sure what to say to that. He didn't want to bring up getting skipped with the boggart.

"Oh, just, I figured I should take defense seriously, what with dark wizards after me," Harry said. "Even if all we're studying is nuisance creatures right now." He wanted Professor Lupin to take him seriously academically; he wasn’t just trying to impress an old friend of his dad’s.

"Well you should do some extracurricular reading then," Hermione suggested.

"Are you going to say anything to him?" Ron asked.

Harry shrugged. "I dunno. We'll see. The weird thing is, they wrote about Snape too. They were all in the same year."

"I had suspected as much," Hermione said, "considering how much he speaks about your father."

"Hasn't been doing much of that lately, has he?" Ron asked. "Think Dumbledore had a talk with him about it? He's been weird in class."

"I don't know," Harry said. "The weird thing is, he was friends with my mum for a bit." Well, more than a bit. He didn’t know why he was talking about this. The words just kept tumbling out. He’d been ruminating on it so long he couldn’t keep it all in.

"What?" Ron said. "But she was a Gryffindor, and he's a slimy Slytherin."

"Oh Ron," Hermione said. "That doesn't mean… well, that doesn't have to mean that they couldn't be friends."

"They met before Hogwarts actually," Harry said. "He told my mum she was a witch."

"Well that would be adorable if you threw about anyone else into the Snape role," Ron said.

"So what happened?" Hermione asked.

"Ideological differences," Harry said after thinking about it for a bit.

"So he was toady with the You-Know-Who crowd," Ron put in. "Do you think he was a Death Eater?" he added in a conspiratorial whisper.

Harry shrugged.

"Oh Ron," Hermione said. "Professor Dumbledore wouldn't have hired him if he had been a Death Eater."

Ron gaver her a look.

"He wouldn't hire him to anything other than the defense position if he had been a Death Eater," Hermione conceded. "Oh, that reminds me, we should probably learn more about the Death Eaters that escaped too, we only really know about two of them."

"Greyback wasn't a Death Eater," Harry said, remembering his conversation with Tom during the summer. "He was an enforcer though."

Ron got a pensive look on his face.

"Lestrange was like, one of You-Know-Who's most fanatical followers, one of the most dangerous too, I think. Rookwood was an inside man at the ministry, supposedly he was an unspeakable."

"What's an unspeakable?" Harry asked.

"No one knows what they really do, but they study all the secret advanced magic stuff for the ministry," Ron said.

"What about Dolohov?" Hermione asked.

"He killed my mum's brothers," Ron said after a pause. "They were twins. Mum named Fred and George after them." He shrugged. "He was a fighter I guess. Bill wouldn't say much about him." He added as an aside. "He had a friend from Gringotts come take a look at the wards around the Burrow, you know, after the breakout. You'd probably be safe over the summer. Especially if we just don't tell anyone."

"We'll see," Harry said noncommittally.

They walked on in silence after that until they got to the great hall, it looked like the food had just gotten on the tables. There weren't many other students in the hall. Snape was though, and Harry found himself glancing at the man.

He thought about the way his mother had written about him in the second letter; not as though he was a former lover, or the father of her child, but rather like he was a friend from her childhood whom she had drifted apart from. Someone she had had adventures with when she had been a girl. Harry still found himself looking for his mum's friend in the unpleasant man, and while it was true that Snape wasn't as horrible as he had been in the past for whatever reason, Harry still couldn't see how the man could have been his mum's boyfriend.

The trio sat down at the far end of Gryffindor table and started serving themselves.

"So," Hermione started. "Have either of you put any thought into your third-year projects?"

All of their teachers had been going on a bit about upper year projects. It was sort of like the science fair in primary, only there wasn’t a fair. You just did a project in something that interested you for, like, experience or something. Maybe it was to help them figure out careers? Harry had sort of stopped paying attention when he’d found out that the extra work was optional.

"Who says we're doing third year projects?" Ron asked. Harry could see that he was getting ready for an argument with Hermione.

"Just because you don't have to do one, doesn't mean you shouldn't do one," said Hermione. "You'll broaden your horizons and maybe get some extra credit if you do a good job."

"Let me guess, you're doing projects for all of your classes. Even though there's no way you're getting to all of them, seeing as they overlap," Ron said accusingly.

Hermione didn't even address her impossible schedule, all she said was, "Not all of my classes, Ron. Just for Arithmancy, Ancient Runes, Transfiguration, and Charms."

"Oh, I see, so just the four hardest subjects at Hogwarts," Ron said. "Well not all of us are super students who can just tack on a boat load of extra work."

"Well then you should be able to take on at least one project. You're not a bad student, you know. You could stand to do some more studying, but there's no reason you can't handle a project. It could be for something you like. Oh, you could do a charms project."

"Who said I like charms," Ron asked.

"It's your best subject, after astronomy, but that doesn't matter, because you're great at chess. You could charm your own chess board. Oh, you could do it like the one that guarded the philosophers stone. One you could play against. That would be a great project."

"Sure it would be; if I had any idea how to do that," Ron said, as though Hermione was missing the obvious.

"Well that's why you do the project. To learn. I bet you could get it to play a better game than Professor Flitwick," Hermione said.

"Flitwick?" Ron asked. "I thought McGonagall did the chess set."

"Well I did too, until I thought about it some more," Hermione said. "In the key room, I thought the keys were all charmed to fly, meaning they were Professor Flitwick's bit. When I saw the giant chess set, I figured it was Professor McGonagall since those pieces had to have been transfigured. But if you take into account the incredible amount of charm work that went into it, you might start to suppose that the keys weren't charmed, but partially transfigured. Anyway, the point is, you beat the chess set, and you could probably make a more challenging one yourself if you put some effort into figuring it out."

"You're acting like I'm some sort of chess genius," Ron said.

"You sort of are," Harry said.

"What about you Harry," Ron said, putting the attention on his friend. "What's your project going to be."

Harry realized that he and Ron had somehow lost, if Ron was already talking like Harry would be doing a project.

"I think Quidditch practice is enough of a project for me," Harry said. "But I think charming your own chess set sounds great Ron." He did, but mostly he wanted Hermione's attention back on Ron.

"There's no way I can do that as a third year," Ron said. "Probably not even as a seventh year."

"Well that's why you start now, and by the time you're a seventh year you'll be doing all sorts of things," Hermione said. "You know, even if it is a couple years before the project really gets rolling, you could learn so much. Besides a good project looks good on your resume when you're looking for a job. You don't want to be just another Hogwarts graduate with good grades; there are plenty of those. You want to stand out."

"Hermione," Harry said. "If our next five years here are anything like the last two, I don't think Ron is going to ever be just another Hogwarts student."

Ron blushed, and Harry smiled, remembering their first year when Ron had sacrificed himself to the black queen.

"Yes, well that's certainly true," Hermione conceded. "But it could be fun too. You could at least talk to Professor Flitwick and see how you'd go about it."

"I dunno," Ron said. "What about Harry. I bet he could do a defense project."

Harry's eyes grew wide as the attention was once more on him.

"Quidditch..." he started.

"Would make an excellent project for you," Hermione said, as though Harry had been making a suggestion instead of an excuse. "Unless you have your heart set on defense."

"Huh?" Harry asked.

"Well you could do any number of charms projects to do with charmed equipment. Or you could do a project based on game statistics; maths are still very important."

"So what? Charm my own snitch?" Harry asked.

"Sure, or whatever you want," Hermione said.

"Hey, why does Harry get to do something simple, and I have to charm a chess set to play a better game than Flitwick?" Ron piped in.

"You don't have to," Hermione said. "You can make up any sort of project. That was just something I thought you might do well in and enjoy. Though Harry's right, Quidditch will be taking up a lot of his time this year."

She wasn't kidding. Wood had posted the training schedule and it looked like it had been drawn up by a madman; but then again, it had been drawn up by Oliver Wood. Their first practice was actually after dinner in an hour.

"Alright," Harry said, after they had eaten. "I've got to go grab my quidditch gear. I want to fly a bit before practice." He was usually the first one there, changed and already flying before the older students got there.

"We'll be in the library when you're done," Hermione said.

Ron sighed.

Harry started walking towards Gryffindor Tower. There hadn't been any students in the halls while they had walked to dinner, it had been too early really, but now there was a steady stream of students on the way to the Great Hall that he was passing. He got a lot of dirty and fearful looks. Not from everyone, but enough to sting. He kept his head down.

He wanted to yell at them, 'I'm just a normal wizard,' but he knew that it wouldn't do any good. People would believe what they wanted to believe.

Harry had wanted to be normal since he was very young. Not normal like the Dursleys, certainly. Their quest for normalcy made them some of the most abnormal people Harry had ever known. It wasn't even about fitting in. He just didn't want to have a target on his back. Of course, not being normal had condemned him at the Dursleys, but it had also saved him. Yet even as a wizard, he couldn't be ordinary. He had to be the Boy-Who-Lived.

It occurred to Harry though, that he was confusing abnormal with famous. In the end, he just didn't want to stick out like a sore thumb. He hated being the center of attention. Quidditch was an odd exception, but at least there he felt like he had earned it. Being a star seeker didn't garner the same bizarre attention that being the Boy-Who-Lived did, and it was something that connected him to his father, something he might have been proud of. Though he realized, he didn't want to be normal. Stay under the radar, yes, but maybe not normal. His parents had died for him. He didn't think he could stand feeling one day that they had died for nothing. Not for the first time, he wondered what they would think if they could see him then.

He didn't see it when he first got into the dorm. After stuffing his quidditch gear into his bag, Harry grabbed his broom and closed the lid of his trunk. That's when he saw the banner hanging over his bed. 'Werewolf get out,' it read. Most of Gryffindor seemed to support him; he hadn't thought that anyone in the tower would give a lot of credence to Malfoy's bilge. He tore the banner down and shoved it in his trunk. He would deal with it later. He felt very small just then.

He looked towards the door and shook his head. He walked to the window and hopped out, mounting his broom smoothly and swiftly midair, he quickly leveled off his descent and flew to the pitch and avoided his school mates.


IIIIIIIIIIII


"Are you sure you should be trying that?" Fred hollered up at Harry. He and George had just arrived at the pitch wearing their Quidditch gear and had just seen one of Harry's newer stunts.

"Don't you have a death omen or something?" George asked.

Harry had had the pitch to himself for about a half an hour when the twins arrived. He leveled off and flew towards the twins.

"Percy told us she always predicts someone's death," he told them. "I think I'm good." Probably.

"Ah well, there's always next year," George said.

"So what have you two been up to?" Harry asked. "Everyone's walking on eggshells waiting to see what you're getting ready for." Actually, they were walking on eggshells because half the school, and even a few Gryffindors apparently, thought Harry was a werewolf. Since they had gotten back to Hogwarts, though, the twins had been working on some weird project in the common room, though they wouldn't say a word about it to anyone. Not even their best friend, Lee Jordan seemed to know.

"Oh," Fred said. "Not even you get to know that yet."

"How about a hint" Harry said.

"It's going to make us rich," George said.

"And you gave us the idea," Fred said.

"Sort of," George said.

"You'll see," said Fred.

"Maybe," added George.

"Well just as long as it isn't going to bring on any death omens," Harry said. "Good luck, when are we going to see a prototype?"

"That depends," George said.

"We have a bit to work out right now, and owl post takes a bit too long," Fred said.

"Yeah, and it probably would kill you if we really tried it out now," said George.

Well that wasn't ominous.

"Oy," came Oliver Wood's voice. He had just flown onto the pitch. "What's going to be killing my prize seeker?"

"Take your pick," Fred said.

"Probably going to be a bludger in a bit," George said.

"Well, maybe," Oliver said. "We'll be practicing with three, so you two will have to stay on top of things."

Harry grinned. It was good to be playing quidditch again, even if he could see the dementors that were patrolling the castle gates not too far off into the distance from up in the air. He told himself that they were the reason he felt like so much crap just over the opinion of some idiot in the tower.

Soon everyone had arrived, and after warm-ups, all seven of them were zooming around the pitch. Three bludgers, it turned out, were not enough to sate Oliver's drive, and soon Harry and the rest of them were dodging four of the heavy iron strapped balls. It was during a corkscrew maneuver that Harry performed that he saw someone in the shadows of the forest under the still waning moon, someone who looked like they were watching the Quidditch pitch. When he had righted himself and turned back around to see, no one was there. Moments later, Professor Trelawny's prediction almost came true when one of the bludgers came close to taking his head off.

"Watch yourself, Potter," was Oliver's only show of concern. Harry turned his attention back to the game.


IIIIIIIIII


"Mr. Malfoy," Severus called at the end of class. "A word if you will." He was nervous, he realized. This conversation would be difficult, and it could be the beginning of something big. It could also go very wrong. Pushing away the nerves was the easy part.

"Professor?" the blond scion asked when the rest of the students had filed out.

"Tell me, Mr. Malfoy," Severus said. "Is your family name important to you?"

The boy looked affronted. "Of course it's important. House Malfoy is the most important in the wizarding world after Slytherin. The name Malfoy means..."

"Nothing to you it seems," said Severus, cutting off the boy's scripted lines. "The name Malfoy is supposed to have credibility, the name Slytherin is supposed to be synonymous with cunning. Yet you run around this school as if those words mean nothing."

"I..." the boy indignantly started to protest but was cut off once more.

"Potter is not a werewolf!" Severus snarled. "The full moon approaches soon enough and anyone who believes that he is one will feel a fool and you will be the king of the fools. Malfoy, head fool, and spreader of lies. You've been clever, I will give you that, but cleverness without foresight is more dangerous than outright idiocy. Malfoys do not rule, but they do guide those that do. Your family has been shaping wizarding Britain for generations. The children you attend school with, Merlin preserve us, are our future Ministers. You sit in the great hall with the future Head of Magical Law Enforcement. Some of those twits will be Aurors, and some will be journalists. What have they seen of you these past years? A boy caught out of bed to tattle on another. A boy who shouts out politically incorrect slurs in a crowded hallway over the scene of an attack, a boy who spreads silly rumors."

"He could be," the boy defended.

"He is not," Severus said. "I know that he is not, because I make it my business to know such things. But let us pretend that there is some uncertainty. Do Slytherins gamble like that or do Gryffindors? Who acts the fool?"

"Gryffindors," Draco said with an averted gaze.

"You must distance yourself from this Mr. Malfoy," he said, now more gently. It was important that Draco felt that Severus was someone who could guide him. "When the school discovers that Potter is indeed not a werewolf, it should not be on the heels of your own accusations."

"So I should be more sneaky about it, so it doesn't trace back to me?" the boy asked.

"Forget Potter, Mr. Malfoy," Severus said. "Your name means a great deal, but he is a celebrity. When others see you fight, they do not see Draco Malfoy fighting his nemesis, they see Potter fighting his. You are being defined by Potter's context. He is a shining light and you are nothing but shadow. Separate yourself from him. You are a Malfoy. Be a Malfoy. You are not defined by your family name, you are defining it, and not well."

"So what do I do?" Draco asked, at a loss.

"Focus on your studies. Maintain your power base but keep your head down for at least a month. Wait till this werewolf foolishness blows over and be ready. It is about time that the Malfoy scion had some notion of what he wants to define his life."

"I already know that: I want to bring back the old ways. I want to be the one who makes the wizarding world what it should be. Without mudbloods; and half-bloods who know their place."

Severus had to fight his own recoil at that word. Of course he couldn't act as though he had actually been offended by it, as if he had damned himself with it.

"Mr. Malfoy. You would do well to forget that word," Severus said silkily. "There are more children here born of muggles than there are who truly have pure blood. Far more children with a muggle grandparent or two. Your use of that word puts you at odds with the majority of the wizarding world."

"Not to people who matter," the boy said.

"Mr. Malfoy, a girl who came from nothing is besting you in every class. You who have been given every advantage. Tell me Mr. Malfoy. Tell me what matters."

"The teachers have their favorites," the boy whined.

"You have been my favorite, as I have shown time and again, but she still outperforms you every time. Why is that Draco?" he asked.

"You're starting to sound like a muggle lover," the boy accused.

"Believe me, I bear no fondness for muggles," he said. "But I do respect accomplishment and ability."

"So you would just let Dumbledore's side win?" the boy asked him angrily. "Just lay down and let the lesser forms take over our world and corrupt it?"

"I would have you guide our world in its noble traditions," Severus told him. "I would expect you to keep your heritage. You would alienate more than half our world from those ways rather than guide our people to them. There will always be purebloods Draco, just as there will be always be half-bloods and muggleborns. As a pureblood it is your duty to stand up as an ideal of what every wizard and witch should be. You are the elite, but that does not mean that they have no place in our world. You can either hide in the corner embracing the old ways, which never actually existed, with a small group of purebloods while the wizarding world crumbles around you, or you can shape the wizarding world by including everyone."

"My father..." Draco started, but once more Severus cut him off.

"Your father made his own decisions, different from his father's. His father too chose his own path. The duty of the family heir is to ensure the continuation and wellbeing of the line. Thus, he must be prepared to change with the times where he must, and guide them where he can. Your father does not expect you to be a copy of himself, with no self-determination or will."

"You would be singing a different tune if the Dark Lord were around," Draco said. "Father says he'll come back. What will we do then? What about you? That mark won't come off."

"I will do what I have to do Draco, as you will do your duty as scion of a noble family and a leader of our world."

There was a long pregnant pause, and Severus was sorely tempted to look into those eyes and see what went on beyond them.

"How do I make myself better than Potter and Granger?" The boy's voice was hesitant, as if asking the question implied something he didn't want to think about.

Severus resisted the urge to sigh, but he could work with the insecurities.

"You could certainly stand to study more, but do not concern yourself with outperforming Granger. You are a leader, not a scholar. Potter and Granger are their own entities and trying to be better than them is like a cauldron trying to be better than a stirring rod. They are both necessary, but they serve different roles. You will be a leader. You will be the best leader. Potter will be a fighter and Granger a scholar, trying to outperform them is trying to be them, and you are something else entirely. We will be working on developing you as a leader, and let them worry about their own lives."

Draco frowned but nodded. Severus calmed slightly. It was progress.


IIIIIIIIIII


One of Albus's joys and trials was having Severus in his office for tea.

"So Severus, what news do you bring me?" Albus asked his potions master.

"I don't have anything newsworthy to report," Severus said. "I've started preparing the Wolfsbane Potion for the werewolf."

"Yes, Remus will be happy to hear that. He did so very much appreciate the batch you made him last month," he replied, making sure to emphasize Remus's name.

"I appreciated not hearing the tortured screams of our students as they are torn apart by a werewolf," Severus said.

"But come now," Albus said. "Surely something has happened. I am not the only one to note that you have been acting differently since term started."

"Acting differently, am I?" Severus asked mildly.

"Indeed," Albus said. "Some have come close to accusing you of being pleasant."

"Well I will have to do something about that then, won't I?" Severus said with a slight grimace.

"There is nothing wrong with people liking a change in you," Albus said.

"I suppose that all depends on what the change is," Severus said.

"And in your case?" Albus asked, though he of course knew the answer. He had planned for this variant, had made sure Severus would be placed to trigger it, but he could only lay the pieces. How they fell after was up to chance.

He was of course happy that the cards had fallen as they had. He had waited too long for this opportunity. Had waited when he had known he could elicit the same response if he had been willing to cause a deviation... But he did not like to dwell on such things. His guilt served no purpose in this case.

"I have started occluding," Severus said.

"Have you indeed?" Albus asked. "And what has an ordered mind brought you, my boy."

"Disappointment," said Severus.

"Disappointment can be used for a lot of good," Albus said.

"I suppose you can use any emotion to fill that line," Severus supplied. "With your optimism."

"And yet, in your case," Albus said, "you have submitted for approval to start a research project, grades in your classes have been rising, and you have been more engaged in faculty meetings. It does seem that this disappointment is doing you well, so long as this disappointment eventually turns into satisfaction and contentment."

"Some mistakes are too great to undo," Severus said. "Just because I can see the weight of my failure doesn't mean I can make it right. My house is a shambles, Headmaster. What can I do about that?"

"Doing nothing," Albus said, "would certainly be the wrong way to go about things. Perhaps we can work something out, you and I."

They talked for a time after that. Albus was pleased. There were plenty of variants where Severus did not start occluding until the start of the second war, the harsh realities of which left little room for positive personal change in one already so mired in such emotional baggage. He had seen some of those variants to the end of the war, and some not, but the change now had more possibilities for success. They also helped him sleep better at night.


IIIIIIIIIIII


It was a few weeks into term, and Harry realized with quite a bit of surprise that Potions was no longer his least favorite class. That was Divination now. The morbid old professor who taught the class continued to predict his death and misfortune, and only seemed to give good grades for predictions of the same from him. Knowing that it was all dramatics did little to put him in a better mood. Hermione's running commentary on the subject’s imperfections were entertaining at times, because she had the audacity to say them in class when the professor could not hear. Harry had started to wish that he had taken another elective. He'd always been somewhat good with maths. He should have taken Arithmancy or something.

Potions, on the other hand, was another matter. Snape, though still menacing, was being mostly tolerable. Malfoy had even stopped calling him a werewolf in class, though the rumors certainly hadn't died down.

He realized that he should stop his musings and focus more on the potion he was preparing when he cut his finger with the knife he had been cutting roots up with. He stuck his finger in his mouth quickly and scowled at his knife and the spots of blood on the worktable. He got his wand out with his good hand and cleared the roots and the blood away. He didn't know what effect his blood would have on the potion but thought it a horrible idea to find out.

He got up to get a plaster from the supply closet and got back to work, starting over with a new root. The whole while Snape hadn't said a word. The whole class was rather silent till the end when they were cleaning up, and Snape made an announcement.

"I am starting a research project and am currently looking for student volunteers who wish to earn extra credit," he said. "I will primarily be looking for assistance from NEWT level students, however there are some more mundane tasks that will be more appropriate for lower level students. Dismissed."

"Ugh," Ron said as they walked out of the classroom. "That's like volunteering for a detention with Snape. Who'd want to do that?"

Harry gave a pointed look at Hermione.

"As if," Hermione said, aghast.

Harry laughed.


IIIIIIIIIIIII


He felt bad for interrupting her work. Since term had gotten well into swing, it seemed that Hermione did nothing but work and study. Which wasn't too unusual, but Harry wasn't used to the somewhat frantic edge she had taken to in all of her work. Still though, the question had been gnawing at him since the first week of term.

"So, what do you know?" he asked her. Ron was playing a game of chess with his sister, so Harry had Hermione to himself in the relative privacy of their corner of the library.

"Quite a lot actually," Hermione said. "Perhaps you could narrow down the topic for me."

"About the thing we talked about at the start of term," he said.

"Oh that," Hermione said. "Well if I had to guess, I would say that Professor Snape is your father."

"What?" he asked. "How could you have possibly come to that conclusion?"

"Well, you made it clear that there was some terrible secret tied into the hemophilia. Through my research, the biggest thing that popped up was the hereditary nature of the illness. So if there is some big secret, it would seem to be that one or both of your parents wasn't actually your biological parent. You mentioned that in the same letter they told you about the hemophilia that they mentioned both Professor Lupin and Professor Snape, so they're all I really had to go on. Now you seem to like Professor Lupin and you do despise Professor Snape, and when I asked you if you had any other options for your summer situation, you gave a most emphatic no. So, given all of the evidence, most of which you gave me by trying to keep it a secret, by the way, I must say that my best guess is that Professor Snape is your biological father."

Harry noticed that she wasn't asking him if she was right.

"So how do I make sure no one else comes to that conclusion?" Harry asked.

"Well to start with," Hermione said. "You could just say, 'I have hemophilia, I got it from my dad.' You don't actually have to treat it like a big secret."

"But what if someone knows that my dad didn't have it?" Harry asked.

"It's an easily manageable illness. While you definitely should tell the school nurse that you have it," here Hermione gave him a pointed look. "It is certainly possible that a family, particularly a pureblood family, would want to keep it a secret. You can easily say that he had it and kept it a secret."

"It's as easy as that?" Harry asked.

"Yes," Hermione said.

They sat in pensive silence for a moment, and Harry thought Hermione had gone back to her homework when she spoke up again.

"So what are you going to do?" she asked.

"Who said I'm going to do anything?" Harry asked.

"Well you keep on looking at him now and then like you want to say something. Are you going to talk to him about it?" she asked.

"What? No, of course not. I mean how would that go? 'So, you know how you're always going on about my dad?'" he said with a sneer that wasn't directed at Hermione. "Not that he's not my dad really, James I mean. My dad's James, 'cause that's not what Snape is. You know?"

"Did he know?" Hermione asked.

"Oh, yeah," Harry said. "That's why I look like him. He did this spell that, like, put a bit of himself into me. So he's like, really my dad in more ways than that he raised me for a year. But he knew before they got married."

"Wait, how long…" Hermione started, looking confused.

"Oh, it's complicated…." Harry said before realizing that the truth was probably way better than whatever Hermione might imagine would cause Severus Snape to be his father. So once more looking around for anyone who might overhear, he told her.

"So they weren't just friends in Hogwarts. They dated for a while in their fifth year until they had a big fight and broke up. Then my mom found out she was pregnant, and she found a potion that would let her keep the pregnancy on hold until later. Then she got together with my dad, and told him before they got married. Then they had me during the war 'cause she was worried she might get hurt and never have me."

That last part made him blush. It felt very odd to know how much they had wanted to have him. Though in an odd way, he found he was glad to have told Hermione the story. At least in part.

"And she never told Professor Snape?" Hermione said.

"It's complicated," Harry found himself saying again, though this time he didn't think he could elaborate. He didn't think he could tell her about the Death Eater business without talking about his mother’s hopes and suspicions about Snape's true loyalties, and she had wanted those to be a secret.

Hermione waited for him to elaborate, and seeing that he wasn't, asked, "so what do you want to say to him?"

"Who says I want to say anything?" Harry asked.

She gave him a look that clearly said 'I'm not stupid.'

"It's just…" Harry started. "I want to know why. What did she see in him? Why did he break her heart? And what if they had stayed together? Would they have been happy? Would they still be alive maybe? Would I be me? Would I have been happy growing up with him as a… a father? And just thinking that seems disloyal to my real dad, but I want to know and I can't get it out of my head. Even though I don't need a father. I'm doing just fine without one."

"Harry just because you are somewhat self-sufficient and have gotten by without a father doesn't mean you couldn't benefit from one," Hermione said.

Harry chewed on that for a bit. "Yeah, but Snape?"

"I don't know," Hermione said. "But you don't have to see him as your dad if you don't want to or don't feel comfortable, you can still get to know him, and maybe find some answers."

Harry didn't want to think about it anymore. "Got to go," he said suddenly. "Quidditch practice," he said. It was still early.

"I'll go with you," Hermione said.

Since he had found that banner over his bed, worse things had been done to show Harry that he wasn't welcome at Hogwarts. In his home. Being tripped up in the halls and having his book bag split open from a spell was the least of it. Ron and Hermione had taken to making sure he didn't walk the halls alone. Even the quidditch team had taken to casually running into him and walking with him wherever he was going. Harry though, occasionally liked some alone time. Besides that, Hermione had far too much work to spend time child minding him.

"You don't have to," Harry said.

"I won't talk about Snape anymore," Hermione placated.

"You also won't get any more work done," Harry pointed out.

Hermione frowned. "Ron," she called. "Say bye to Harry, he's going to quidditch practice."

"Oh, I'll go with you," Ron said.

Harry heard Ginny make a small disappointed sigh as she looked at their unfinished game. Ron looked at it as well, and, taking out his wand with a look of concentration, he pointed it at the board and said, "Wingardium Leviosa." The pieces all gave a cry of alarm and indignation as the board rose up to float next to Ron. "Come on," he said to his sister.

The three of them left the library with the chess board floating between the two siblings.

"Did you have a fight with Hermione," Ron asked. "Only it's a bit early to be leaving for quidditch." He told one of the pieces to make a move.

"Not really," Harry said. "I just needed to get out of the library."

"I know that feeling," Ron said. "In that case, can we stop off at the owlery, I told 'Mione I'd post a letter to her parents."

Harry thought Ron had had the same idea of saving Hermione time with her very large workload.

"Sure," he said. "Do you want to send it with Hedwig? She'd love to do a delivery."

"That'd be great," Ron said. "It must be nice to have an owl that's reliable."

"Is Errol not doing well?" Harry asked. He remembered the old owl struggling to deliver his birthday gift that summer.

"It's not just that," Ron said. "He disappeared a couple of times over the summer. Mum thought the twins were owl ordering something they didn't want her to know about, but even they seemed worried about him. Of course, now they've been sending off owls like mad since they got here this year. Then Scabbers even disappeared for a bit. I thought he'd finally bit the dust somewhere we wouldn't find him for a while."

Harry had noticed earlier that Scabbers, Ron's pet rat, had been looking a bit ragged of late. Ron had taken to leaving him asleep on his bed rather than carrying him around in his pocket as he had done previously.

"So why is Hermione writing her parents about your chess game?" Ginny asked after making a move of her own.

"What?" Ron asked.

Earlier, Hermione had gotten Ron to tell her all of the moves from the game they had played against the giant chess set their first year while he had been playing with his sister. Harry was surprised that Ron had remembered them all. Hermione had written it all down without explaining why she had wanted it in the first place.

"I think she put that parchment she'd written it all down on in the envelope," Ginny said.

"She's probably still trying to get me to do that chess project," Ron said. "Though I have no idea what her angle is here."

Harry was suddenly distracted when one of his books was ripped out of his hand.

"Hey," he said, turning around to find his book in the hand of an older Slytherin boy.

"Let's play a game, Potter," the boy said. His friend next to him was snickering.

"Give it here," Harry said angrily. He heard the chess board clatter to the ground as Ron lost concentration.

"Oh, I'll give it back," the boy said. "But let's play our game first. It's called fetch. You know how to play fetch don't you. Of course you do, you mongrel, it's practically an instinct for you isn't it?" He threw the book down the hall. "Go on, fetch it. Bring it here."

Harry glared angrily at him, he wasn't about to go get it with these two staring at him. The other boy was having a hard time controlling his laughter.

"Fetch it, I said," The boy sneered. "Go on, get it boy. Fetch boy, be a good boy, a good doggy."

"Don't call me that," Harry said, furious now. His wand was out, but neither Slytherin looked concerned about a couple of third years' spell casting.

"Oh I suppose I shouldn't, should I. No one would mistake you for man's best friend, man's worst enemy more like it. Monsters among us."

"You'd know all about man's worst enemy, wouldn't you?" Ron asked. "Seeing as your mum served him, Eckelson."

"Don't you talk about my mum, you blood traitor. It's trash like your disgraceful family that's letting filth infiltrate our society. It's bleeding hearts like you that stopped us from doing the sensible thing and putting rabid beasts like this one down." He had his wand out now. The older boy, Eckelson, grabbed Harry by the hair, yanking his head back with his wand at his neck. Harry froze, an angry yell dying in his throat. Whether the boy would actually do anything to him, or if Harry could manage to disarm him, he would never know, because both of the older boys were suddenly sent flying, flipping over backwards several times, landing hard against the far wall behind them.

Harry was worried for a moment that he had done accidental magic, but a glance to his side showed a very angry Ginny Weasley brandishing a wand at where the two boys had stood. Her anger suddenly turned to worry and the wand was suddenly put away, and with her head downcast, her whole body screamed shame.

"Come on then," Ron said, a guiding hand on his sisters back and a few messy flicks of his wand gathering up the chess pieces. They headed down the hall and Ron stooped down to hand Harry his book.

"Um," Harry said. "Are they going to be alright?" he asked.

"They'll be fine," Ron said. "They're wizards… unfortunately." He turned to his sister. "That was great Gin, where'd you learn that?"

But Ginny didn't say anything. She tore herself away from her brother and ran down a side corridor.


IIIIIIIIII


Practice would have been fun, he thought, in spite of the dementors off in the distance. There were times when he could almost feel the pull of the flying specters, the pitch wasn't too far from the wall they patrolled, but being up in the air flying seemed to mitigate the effects. It would have been fun if he hadn't been spooked beforehand, when he had taken off the plaster that he had put on in potions earlier that day. His finger had still been seeping blood though it hadn't been a deep cut at all.

Nervously, he had pulled out his wand and cast the diagnostic charm on himself. His wand had glowed red, and he’d almost dropped it. He’d quickly cast the appropriate spell upon himself and recast the diagnostic charm. Blue; but it should have been blue the first time. It shouldn't have worn off. Had he cast it wrong again? Both times he had tested himself after he had cast the charm, and both times the diagnostic had confirmed that the spell was working just fine. Why was it wearing off so quickly? What was he doing wrong?

He’d gotten another plaster from the Quidditch supplies, vowed to check himself more often, and went out to fly, while trying not to think about it.

Besides that, he might have expected to think about the older Slytherin boy for the rest of the evening, but it was Snape he thought about throughout quidditch practice, which didn't go well; Wood wasn't happy. Harry didn't think of the older Slytherin until he saw him on the way back to the castle.

He was scowling at Harry, perched in a corner of the entry hall, and not looking at all happy to see that Harry was walking back with the twins. Harry realized that the other boy had been waiting for him to come back, hoping he would be alone. A while ago he probably would have been. He was usually the last one out of the changing room by five or ten minutes, usually taking his time to maintain his gear after practice. Now, however, one of the older players made sure to walk him back. He'd been convinced that everyone was over reacting, but now his mind wandered to what might have happened if he had been walking alone just then.

Harry couldn't wait until the next full moon. It was coming soon, and Harry planned to make sure there were plenty of witnesses present to see him not transform into a werewolf. He said as much to the Weasley twins as they made their way up to the tower.

"We'll have to throw a party then," said George.

"Yeah, rub their noses in it," said Fred.

"I don't think anyone who thinks I'm a werewolf will actually be at the party though," Harry said.

"Well that'll be their comeuppance," George said.

"No party for them," said Fred.

"Might be safer for them if they're not eating sweets at a party you're throwing," Harry said with a grin.

"Maybe we'll put in a little something so everyone'll grow fur and fangs," Fred said with a wicked look.

"Sure, if you want a mass panic," Harry scoffed.

"Oh Harry, we must indoctrinate you in the ways of chaos," George said.

"You have an invisibility cloak for crying out loud," Fred cried in a whisper.

"The mischief you get up to, you could be the best of us if you'd only apply yourself," George said.

"Now you sound like mum," Fred said.

"Flibbertigibbet," Harry said the mouthful to the portrait that guarded Gryffindor tower.

"Wait here," Fred said.

"We've got a sneak preview to show you," George said.

"If it involves me sprouting fur and fangs, I think I'll pass if that's alright," Harry said.

The twins just grinned at him and ran upstairs.

Harry waved to Hermione who was studying intensely in the corner. She didn't notice him. Quidditch had run late, as it usually did, and the common room was mostly empty.

The twins were soon back, and one of them was holding a ball with a thick leather glove on his hand. The other was carrying a mat, which he laid out in the corner, and what looked like a thick sheet of parchment. They beckoned Harry towards them.

"Observe," said Fred as he held the parchment a few feet in the air. He tapped it with his wand and let go. It hung there suspended in the air. George was holding the ball and he tossed it with his gloved hand at the parchment. Where the ball met parchment, tiny confetti went out the other end along with the ball leaving a hole roughly the size of the ball in the parchment. The ball continued on, as if it had hit nothing at all and landed on the mat.

"I don't get it," Harry said.

"Look," said Fred. "Look at the hole."

Harry took a closer look. Around the edges, small bits of confettied parchment still clung, and Harry saw the small pieces reintegrate themselves into the parchment slowly. Harry wasn't sure at this point if the twins creation was the ball or the paper.

"So it's paper that'll fix itself if it gets torn?" he asked. "Hermione might like that I suppose."

"Harry, Harry, Harry," Fred said shaking his head. "You're not seeing the bigger picture."

"Might need to iron out a few things before anyone sees the big picture," George said.

"We need to iron out more than a few things," said Fred.

"So what is the big picture?" Harry asked.

"You'll see," said George.

"Just remember," said Fred. "When we're rich and famous, you can say you were there when it all started."

"When what started?" Harry asked.

"Night Harry," Fred said, as George used his gloved hand to pick up the ball. Fred gathered the rest of their props and followed, leaving a confused Harry and a small littering of confetti behind. He ran upstairs and grabbed his book bag. Ron was getting ready for bed and they exchanged a few words about Quidditch before Harry went downstairs and sat by Hermione. He still had homework to finish and a bit to read for defense. Luckily, he had never needed that much sleep to be alert the next day.

Harry and Hermione worked for a while in silence. Hermione offered to read his essay when he was done, but Harry declined. He was fairly sure he had done decently and Hermione looked like she was about to fall asleep. When Hermione started packing up her homework, the rest of the common room was empty, and Harry figured he had read far enough ahead for defense.

"So I'm thinking about volunteering to be one of Snape's lab assistants," Harry said without preamble.

"No," Hermione said. "You don't want to do that."

"Well I don't want to," Harry said. "But I think I should."

"He'll just say no," she said. "You need to do a potions project. One that will require his supervision."

"Can't he just say no to that?" Harry asked.

"Not if your grades are halfway decent, which they are, and you submit a well thought out project plan," Hermione said. "He would need a good reason to say no then, which he won't have."

"That won't exactly give me alone time with him, I'd be sharing lab time with everybody else," Harry said.

"Maybe an atmosphere where you aren't alone together is the best way to start," Hermione said. "Of course, if you are looking to form some sort of bond, you might just tell him everything."

"No," Harry said. "I'm not telling him and I’m not looking to form any bond. Not unless... I'm just not going to tell him yet, or ever probably."

"So what's the point then?" Hermione asked.

Harry thought about it for a bit.

"I don't know," he said finally. "I just want to see where it goes."

Hermione sighed. "Well try to figure it out. In the meantime, we'll put together a project for you. Are you going to tell Ron?"

Harry shrugged. "I probably should."

"Well it's late," Hermione said. "We can work on this tomorrow."

Harry bade Hermione goodnight and went up to his dorm. Quickly changing for bed, Harry pulled back the curtains and stopped when he saw a potted plant on his pillow with dark purple flowers. It was Wolfsbane.

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.'

"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.

Harry added the dragon's fang to the cauldron cautiously. He had to be careful to make sure the tip of the fang was the last part to go under the surface of the potion or else he would have to start over. He only had one beaker of the starter left after this and he didn't want to start from scratch. The whole potion could hypothetically be brewed in a single day, assuming one made no mistakes and could devote all of their time to it. Harry didn’t have that sort of time though, or that level of skill, so things had been drawn out a fair bit through the weeks.

He gazed at the potion somewhat warily counting down the seconds. Nothing happened. He let out a breath of relief. Nothing happening actually meant it had worked. The potion was done. It had certainly taken long enough.

"I'm done professor," Harry said.

Professor Snape looked up from the essays he was grading.

"How do you spell the contraction of 'they are,' Mr. Potter?" Professor Snape responded.

"Um, it's the one with the apostrophe," Harry said.

"Indeed it is," Professor Snape said. "Try to remember that when you are writing your essays."

"Are you actually grading my essay right now professor, or have you been saving that for a while now?" Harry joked a little boldly.

The professor held up the paper in front of him.

"Oh," Harry said.

"Bring up the potion," Professor Snape said. "Let's see how you have done."

Harry ladled out the potion and brought it up to the professor's desk. The man retrieved what basically looked like a paint brush made with silky fine silver bristles, which he dipped into the beaker and carefully wiped the excess off on the rim. He transferred the brush to his other hand and pulled out his wand and cast a spell on the brush. Another spell cleared off his desk and he then used the brush to paint on a symbol, about the size of a dinner plate, in the center. Harry recognized the symbol from runes class and his research into protective wards.

"Mr. Potter," Professor Snape said. "Would you like to try to set my desk on fire?"

Harry grinned, pulling out his own wand.

"Incendio," he cast. A tongue of flame leapt from his wand towards the table where it died without touching the wood. Harry smiled at the failed spell.

Professor Snape cleared his throat and motioned for Harry to step back. "Incendio!" he all but roared. The result was the same, if with a much larger flame.

Harry just gave him a look.

"When doing an experiment, it is always good to be thorough," Professor Snape said.

"Hm, well it looks like it works," Harry said. "I guess I'll be working with Professor Flitwick from now on."

"Indeed," Professor Snape said. "And have you selected the protective charms you will be testing?"

"I have," Harry said. "I finished the writeup too, sir."

"Good," Professor Snape said. "And remember, you still have one beaker of the starter potion to finish if you want to expand the project later."

"I will, sir," Harry said. "Though those last stages were pretty difficult. I'll probably procrastinate on that. I tend to do that a lot."

Harry looked up to the professor's face.

"You and the rest of the students in this castle, Mr. Potter," Professor Snape said.

"You know, you could probably help me with the next part of the project, if you were interested. You were really good teaching that confusion charm when you covered for Professor Lupin last week."

"I could very easily teach you the charms you will be working with," Professor Snape said. "However, the point of this project is not to learn charms, it is to experiment with protective charms not normally paired with the Widow's Shield potion. Professor Flitwick is far better equipped to work with you in that regard."

"Oh," Harry said. "Right, yeah. Well… It's been fun professor, I guess I'll just clean up."

"Do be certain to give me the final writeup for review," Professor Snape said. "I will be interested to see how it goes."

"Right," Harry said. "I will. How's your project going, sir?" He started putting his ingredients away. Before putting his notebook away, he turned the pages back and crossed an item off of a list.

"It is going well," Professor Snape said. "Or as well as it can go during the school year. I won't see much progress until the summer I expect."

"What do you mean?" Harry asked. "You won't have all the free labor over the summer."

"No, I won't have a thousand distractions over the summer," Professor Snape said.

"Well I guess you'll have your Monday evenings free from now on," Harry said.

"My productivity shall surely rise," Professor Snape said.

"Quidditch is in a few days," Harry said leadingly.

"Indeed," said Professor Snape.

"So?" asked Harry. "Are you coming to the match?"

"Are you asking the Head of Slytherin house if he is coming to the Slytherin/Gryffindor match?" Professor Snape asked.

Harry shrugged.

"I am indeed looking forward to a Slytherin victory," Professor Snape said.

"I wouldn't put any money on it, Professor," Harry said. "Gryffindor's got it in the bag. We've been practicing so much more."

"Practice will only help you so much against Slytherin cunning," Professor Snape said.

"Oh is that what we're calling it now?" Harry asked.

Professor Snape merely raised an eyebrow.

"Well you've got the better brooms," Harry said. "I'll give you that."

Harry could have sworn Professor Snape had grimaced before saying, "May the best team win."

"I'm sure they will," Harry said. "I'll see you in class professor."

"Do be careful out there Mr. Potter," Professor Snape said. "It would be a shame if Gryffindor had to forfeit the match because its Seeker was in the Hospital Wing once more."

"I'll schedule all of my near-death experiences for after the match," Harry said on his way out.

Had Professor Snape been making a joke about Harry's frequent, sometimes match ending, trips to the hospital wing, or had he been threatening the competition? Harry couldn't tell. That was the thing with Professor Snape's humor, you weren't always sure if he was joking or not, or aware that a joke had even been made until later.

Harry found that he was a little put out to be finished with the project, or rather, the part of the project where he was working with Professor Snape. What would he have thought of that a year ago? It was pretty surreal to think of how different things were.

It would be difficult to find the right moment to talk to the man. He had hoped an opportunity to have a serious talk would come to him over the past week, and now he was done with the project and all of the good opportunities were wasted. The moment had just never felt right.

Harry stopped walking towards the common room. It probably wasn't ever going to feel right; it was just an awkward conversation to have. He really just needed to get it over with so he could stop worrying about it. Harry did an about face and started walking back to the potions lab going over how to start this conversation in his head. He knocked on the door before he let himself in.

"Did you forget something Mr. Potter?" Professor Snape asked.

"No, I…" Harry said. "I've been meaning to talk to you about something. It's a little awkward but I figured it wasn't going to get less awkward, so I thought I'd just do it now."

Professor Snape eyed him appraisingly. "Go on then," he said.

"Right," Harry said. "Well you see the thing is, um… There's something I think you should know, and I feel like I should tell you, but if I tell you you're going to have, like, this one really big question, and I have to tell you beforehand that I'm not going to answer it."

"Are you asking if I still would want to know this bit of information if it will only raise questions I won't have answered?" Professor Snape asked.

"Well yeah" Harry said. "That and I was hoping you'd promise not to press the issue if I tell you."

Professor Snape's eyes pierced into Harry's for a moment before the man said, "Very well."

"Right, so…" Harry found all of his pre-rehearsed lines leaving his head. "You see I got a letter this summer. It had been written when I was a baby and left with a service that would send it when I turned thirteen. It was from my mother, she'd written it just in case, you know? She talked about… well a lot of things really, but she talked about how she found out she was a witch and about a friend she had had growing up."

Harry heard a small sharp intake of breath from the professor and realizing that he had been looking more at the ground than at the professor, Harry looked up to see a very controlled look on the man's face.

There was a moment's pause.

"Um…yeah, so, she mentioned you, and that you'd been really close friends and that you'd had a… falling out. She said that you'd apologized the next day but that it had been the end of your… um… friendship. So the thing is, in the letter she said that she forgave you like, right then and there, when you apologized but, and this is the thing you can't ask about, she said she couldn't tell you, then or ever. But after reading the letter I think… I know she would have wanted you to know if she knew you today. She spoke, um… fondly of you. I could tell that she still missed you when she wrote it, and that she was worried about you because of the war, but she was very hopeful that you were… alright. And I think she'd be happy to know that you were."

Harry was looking at the ground again. He looked up at the professor who hadn't made a sound. The man had that blank look on his face, the one he had worn earlier in the school year, the one that had disappeared when he'd really started getting on with the man.

"I see," Professor Snape said. "If that is all Mr. Potter, then it would be best for you to be along. Curfew is soon upon us and I'm sure you have homework that needs your attention."

"Professor?" Harry asked.

"Good evening, Mr. Potter," Professor Snape said.

"Good evening, Professor," Harry said, turning around and walking out the door.

Well that had been odd. Though the man had hardly looked very happy with what Harry had told him, Harry found himself wondering just how much Professor Snape might still think of Harry's mother. It had been over fifteen years since they had been friends, but the man had clearly been affected by what Harry had told him.

"Did it work out?" Hermione asked as he walked into the common room. "Or are you going to have to use the last batch of starter?"

"Hey mate," Ron said.

"Hey," Harry said. "It worked."

"You almost sound disappointed," Ron said before lowering his voice. "You should just tell him about the you-know-what. It's obvious that you're getting on well enough. If you like him enough that you're disappointed not to be stuck in the dungeons more than necessary, then I think you can survive the summer with him."

"I haven't finished yet," Harry mumbled. "And I haven't even decided whether to tell him or not."

"What haven't you finished?" Hermione asked as Ron spoke over her.

"What's there to decide?" Ron asked. "It's been another couple of weeks and guess what, they haven't found any of those Death Eaters. Now I hope you can stay over at the Burrow. That would be awesome. But you need a guaranteed safe place to stay. The guy who keep's trying to save your life seems like a great candidate to make sure you don't get mauled by a mad werewolf over the summer."

"I just need to be sure," Harry said.

"Which brings me back to my question," Hermione said.

"It's nothing," Harry said.

"It's not nothing," Hermione said. "How are you making sure?"

"I just…" Harry said. "Look, I think it would be fair to say that I'm never really acting quite myself when I'm around Professor Snape, right? So what if over the summer he really gets to know me and he really really doesn't like me?"

"What are you even talking about?" Ron asked exasperatedly.

"I'm just making sure that the professor gets to know me, you know," Harry said. "So that way if he doesn't like me I can know now and then I won't say anything."

"Don't be daft," Ron said. "The problem before was that he hated you when he didn't know you. The more he's gotten to know you, the better you get on."

"I just need to be sure," Harry said.

"When did this become the get-Snape-to-love-me mission?" Ron asked, still keeping his voice low while they were in the common room. "I thought this was the make-sure-I-don't-die-this-Summer mission. It's great if he really starts to care about you, and you can have whatever paternal relationship thing that works, but I thought the focus was making sure you had a safe place to stay where you don't have bars on your window and no one's knocking you around. We can worry about the rest after we've taken care of that part. The offer's still on the table you know. If he's horrible we'll just kidnap you and you won't have to deal with it. Promise."

"Yeah, well what if I don't want to go through that again?" Harry asked.

"Go through what?" Hermione asked.

"Look," Harry said. "If he doesn't like Harry Potter his student that's fine. But if he doesn't like Harry Potter his son… I've been through the whole, my-family-hates-me thing enough. I can deal with him not liking me after he gets to know me, but if he knows I'm his son and I move in with him and then he realizes it was a mistake, and he winds up hating me… No. No way, if he can't like me when he gets to know me as his student then I won't give him the chance to hate me as his son."

"But he does seem to like you Harry," Hermione said. "What do you think he's going to find out about you that's going to make him hate you?"

Harry shrugged.

"I just have to make sure," Harry said.

"Is this why you insist on wearing your worst robes to the potions lab?" Hermione asked. "Are you trying to put yourself in the worst light?"

"What?" Harry asked. "No. Do you know how many times my cauldron's blown during this project? That's purely practical." Though it was somewhat true, if he was being honest with himself.

"You wear good robes to potions class," Hermione said.

"I wear my worst good robes to potions class," Harry said. "I can't get away wearing last year's worst robes to classes, McGonagall would kill me. It's nice to have nice clothes you know. You may not have to worry about your cauldron exploding, but us lesser mortals need to make sure we have something decent to wear for the whole school year. You care way too much about what I wear."

"Ughh," Ron said. "Enough about robes. Harry, just try to finish up and make your decision. In all honesty the suspense is killing me."

"What?" Harry asked.

"I've been waiting to see the look on Snape's face when he finds out he's a dad for weeks now. Honestly, he's going to go from the scowling bat of the dungeons to gobsmacked like that," said Ron with a snap of his fingers.

"Woah," Harry said. "If I decide to tell him, I'm not going to do it while you're there with a bag of popcorn."

"What do you mean I can't be there?" Ron asked scandalized. "I was going to get a camera from Creevey."

"…Prat," Harry said when he realized that Ron was having him on.

"Tosser," Ron said.

"Honestly," Hermione said. "Can we take this seriously."

"Yes," Ron said. "In all seriousness, can you just imagine the look on his face?"

Seriously, Harry could; he could imagine a million different ways for that conversation to play out. Though most of them didn't end well.

"Really Ronald," Hermione said, sounding a bit like Mrs. Weasley.

"Enough being serious," Ron said. "We just had a big serious conversation. Harry's going to do whatever he needs to do, and we're probably not going to talk him out of it, so why don't we finish this homework. A couple friends of mine decided to talk me into taking Arithmancy and I was too nice to tell them to go dunk their heads in the lake."

"Did you already start the essay?" Harry asked.

"Not without you mate," Ron said. "We suffer together."


IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII


"You are especially pensive tonight Severus," the headmaster said.

He should have canceled tea, or rather, he should have kept occluding; completely immersed himself.

"I have much on my mind," Severus said.

"Coming from you, that is saying something," the headmaster said. "Perhaps it would help to talk about it."

"It does not bear discussing," Severus said.

"Perhaps," the headmaster said. "Tell me then, how is your project progressing."

"Well enough," Severus said. "I've established that there is a reaction with the taproot, but so far tests have been inconclusive. I am starting to think there might be a lunar affect."

"The moon has been governing much in our lives lately," the headmaster said.

"Too much," Severus said.

"And how fares Harry's potions project?" The headmaster asked.

"He has finished brewing," Severus said. "He is moving on now to work with Filius, and none too soon."

"I had rather gotten the feeling that you had come to tolerate Mr. Potter's presence well," the Headmaster said.

"I tolerate it just fine," Severus said.

There was a pause in the room as the two men sipped their tea.

"She wrote him a letter," Severus said. "Lily."

"Did she indeed?" the headmaster asked.

"She wrote about me," Severus said. "She had arranged for it to be delivered on his thirteenth birthday."

"She wrote about you?" the headmaster asked.

"Among other things presumably," Severus said. "Mr. Potter decided that there was something she would have wanted me to know."

"Indeed," the headmaster said. "And what he had to say has upset you."

"I think he thought it would be a comfort," Severus said. "He said she had forgiven me, that the words that ended our friendship, she forgave me for then and there."

"And this was not a comfort?" the headmaster asked.

"It begs the question," Severus said.

"Why she did not tell you this herself then and there?" the headmaster asked.

Severus nodded.

"He prefaced the conversation by explaining that there would be such an obvious question and that he would not answer it," Severus said. "A misguided attempt to pass along this message while sparing my feelings."

"You presume to know why?" the headmaster asked.

"Of course I know why," Severus said. "She didn't trust me. She may have forgiven me, but she saw the path I was going down better than I. I was going where she could not follow. She made the right choice where I am concerned."

"I think she saw the path better than you may think," the headmaster said. "Lest, why did she include you in this letter. Why do you think Mr. Potter decided to pass on this message?"

Severus was silent.

"Perhaps he has seen the path you walk and decided that you deserved to hear this message of forgiveness," the headmaster said.

"Unfortunately, she is not here to forgive me my gravest mistakes," Severus said.

"And you do not think that she would?" the Headmaster asked.

Severus was silent once more. He sipped his tea to avoid eye contact with the old man.

"Do you think that this has anything to do with why Mr. Potter decided to do this potions project?" the headmaster asked. "Perhaps he has been trying to find a connection to his mother through you."

"If he is looking for connection he would have better luck with the sentimental werewolf down the hall," Severus said. "I must presume that the letter mentions the man."

"Yet he has gone to you," the headmaster said.

"The boy is purely bizarre," Severus said. "It isn't just that he's decided to… befriend me."

"Indeed?" the headmaster asked, his silver bushy eyebrows rising.

"He's been inserting these odd confessionals into conversations over the past two weeks," Severus said.

The boy was rather clumsy about it too. He tried to make it seem a natural part of the conversation, but he always would glance at Severus as though he was gauging his reaction.

"Confessionals you say?" the headmaster asked.

"Little things," Severus said. "Personality flaws, bad habits. He just brings something up and then waits to see what I think."

"And what do you think?" the headmaster asked.

"I think he's testing me somehow," Severus said. "Though for what, I cannot fathom."

It was odd that a boy of thirteen should have such a list in his head.

"Time will tell," the headmaster said and now it was his turn to have a pensive look about him, though it was gone quickly. "Rookwood has been spotted in Bosnia."

Severus was brought out of his musings with that news.

"They are searching for the Dark Lord," Severus said.

"It is the most likely explanation," the headmaster said.

Severus grimaced. "What can they do if they do find him?" he asked.

"With the right resources they could return him to his full power," the headmaster said. "There is more than one ritual that I know Riddle is aware of that could reconstitute a body for him."

"What will we do?" Severus asked.

"We will give Harry the best chances of surviving and fulfilling his role in the prophesy," the headmaster answered.


IIIIIIIIIIIII


Wormtail scurried across the dark castle grounds towards the forbidden forest. An owl hooted in the cold night air and Wormtail froze, his ears listening for the sound of wings in flight. There was nothing and he continued on, trying to go as fast as his small legs would let him. The trees were getting closer. He would be safe in the cover of their shadows.

Wormtail transformed into Peter when he was safely within the forest. He pulled out his wand and looked about nervously. The shadows of the trees flickered as a patchy cloud moved across the waning gibbous moon, their shifting movement sending a shiver down Peter's spine.

"What happened?!" Greyback growled angrily behind him.

Peter yelped and spun around, finding the feral wizard had been right behind him. He took an involuntary step back, and then another voluntary one.

"He didn't go for the bait," Wormtail said.

"I told you to forget the bait," Greyback said. "I told you you weren't going to be able to lure him out of the castle, your job was to take him while he slept and bring him to me. Why would you think you could lure the boy out of the castle on the night of the full moon?"

"I didn't try to lure him out of the castle, I tried to lure him out of the common room," Peter said. "I need to maintain my cover. I can't just drag the boy's body out of that bloody portrait and expect no one to see me."

"You have a wand you coward," Greyback snarled. "If someone sees you, you kill them. Are you afraid to face children?"

"I can't draw attention to the tower," Peter said. "That would draw attention to me."

"You should fear less the old fool who runs this school," Greyback growled, stalking closer to Peter. "And fear more the man who would gladly kill you tonight, you useless rat."

"N-No," Peter said. "Wait, y-you need me. I'm your man inside."

"And what use are you to me on the inside if you won't do as I say?" Greyback asked.

"Polyjuice Potion!" Peter exclaimed desperately. "I can get you Polyjuice Potion."

"So you're a potions master now are you?" Greyback sneered.

"I don't have to be," Peter said. "Snape's notorious for stockpiling potions like that. He'll have some in his private stores. You could take the place of one of his friends and lure him out onto the grounds right before the moon rises. If you took the place of one of the Weasley twins, you could even get him through the tunnel. Potter would think little of them telling him they wanted to show him a secret tunnel. A very light confundus would easily go undetected and make him forget that it was the full moon and ignore any behavioral oddities."

"You think you can steal it, then?" Greyback said.

He had too.

"I can," Peter said. "F-few know the secrets of the castle as I do."

"One month," Greyback said. "I expect to have Potter one month from now. Do you understand."

"I do," Peter was quick to say. "I do."


IIIIIIIIIIIIIII


"Scabbers!" Ron cried out joyously, waking up Harry and from the sounds of it, the rest of the dormitory.

"You find him?" Harry asked drowsily looking at the clock. Fifteen minutes to go until wakeup, he could have slept another fifteen minutes.

"Yeah," Ron said happily. "He's just curled up at the foot of my bed."

"No noise till the alarm goes off," Seamus said testily.

"Sorry," Ron said, dismissively.

Harry knew he wouldn't get back to sleep then, but he did try. They had stayed up a bit late the night before, finishing homework, only to go up to the dorm that night to find Scabbers was missing. They had spent a good bit of time searching for the rat before turning in. Ron had been nearly inconsolable, convinced that the rodent had crawled away somewhere to die. Harry was glad that the tragedy had been averted, but judging by how poorly Scabbers had looked lately, he rather thought it was just a matter of time. Rats weren't meant to live that long. The specter of death seemed to hover over the dilapidated rat, and Ron had been worried since the start of term. Perhaps it would have been better if Scabbers had never come back.

Harry drifted in between wakefulness and sleep for fifteen minutes until the alarm went off. The third year Gryffindor boys took a bit longer getting ready for the day that morning. Rather, the Gryffindor boys besides Ron. His chipper spirits seeming to have made him a morning person all of a sudden. Harry and Ron found Hermione reading one of her large tomes in the common room.

"What took you so long?" Hermione asked.

"It took a bit to get going this morning," Harry said.

Hermione quizzed them on Arithmancy on their way down to breakfast, which cured Ron of his chipper spirit. There was supposed to be a test that day.

"Hey Harry," Angelina said from a few seats down as they sat down at the Gryffindor table. "Check out the weather forecast for Saturday."

Harry found a copy of the Daily Prophet being passed from student to student down from Angelina until it reached him. He took a moment to find the weather seer's predictions.

"A heavy rainstorm," he said with a sigh. Angelina was going to get her wish. Slytherin wouldn't be happy, the weather would favor Gryffindor. Though Harry couldn't really find much cheer in that, he hated flying in the rain.

"Looks like we'll be creaming Slytherin on Saturday," he said more loudly and with more bravado than he felt as he passed the paper back down towards Angelina.

"That's what I like to hear in the morning," Woods voice called out a few more spaces down. "Keep up that spirit Harry."

Hermione continued quizzing them on Arithmancy as they walked to Defense, the first class of the day. It was a double lesson that day, though Harry didn't mind. Double Defense was way better than double Potions, no matter how well he was getting on with Professor Snape. They were working on counters to minor jinxes at the moment, the ones you couldn't just finite, and there were a lot of them. Harry's drive to do well in defense hadn't gone down, though it was a lot nicer now that he didn't think he had something to prove to the professor, but he still thought he had something to prove to himself. It had been months, and he could still clearly remember the feeling of casting a spell that had utterly failed when he had needed it the most.

After defense was double Transfiguration. He didn't think he would ever need to turn a teacup into a nematode, but he still managed a decent nematode by the end of the two hours. Unfortunately, Hermione felt that lunch would make an excellent study session, and Harry barely managed to scarf down any food before he was dragged to the Arithmancy classroom where he and Ron were drilled on the subject before the bell rang and students started trickling in. The test went well though. Harry was actually pretty pleased about it. For the first time he felt like he was actually catching up in Arithmancy. He was still struggling with Ancient Runes, but he did feel like he was getting there.

The last class of the day was Charms. Once more, Harry wasn't sure why he needed to know how to make feathers dance, but it was sort of fun, and he found himself catching on to the spell pretty quickly. He stayed after to talk to Professor Flitwick about his project. They arranged to meet Wednesday after classes to start working on it. Harry found Ron and Hermione waiting for him outside of the classroom and they made their way to the library before dinner. It wasn't long though before Harry felt the effects of his rushed lunch and the trio found themselves heading downstairs.

Harry hadn't made it two steps into the Great Hall however when he was dragged away by an upset Oliver Wood.

"Emergency Quidditch meeting," Oliver said.

"But dinner," Harry said, looking at the laden tables.

"The twins are getting some food right now," Oliver said. "Come on, the girls are waiting for us."

"Ollie, we don't need an emergency Quidditch meeting," Harry said, trying to keep up with the much taller boy’s long stride. "We're ready, we're going to kick butt on Saturday."

"We're not ready," Oliver said. "It's all gone to hell and we're going to have to scramble if we're going to be ready."

"What's wrong," Harry asked as they walked into an unused office where Angelina, Alicia, and Katie were transfiguring some furniture that would be appropriate for a quidditch meeting. "Is someone not going to be able to play on Saturday? Are we subbing in someone new?"

"Everyone's fine Harry," Katie said. "Oliver's just overreacting a bit."

"When isn't he," Fred said, walking into the room with a tray of sandwiches. George was right behind with pumpkin juice and crisps.

"I'm not overreacting," Oliver said. "We need to take this seriously."

"What happened?" Harry asked.

"Slytherin backed out of the game," Fred said. "We're playing Hufflepuff."

"Slytherin forfeit?" Harry asked skeptically.

"They didn't have to," Oliver said darkly.

"Let's start from the beginning," Alicia said.

"Flint got the rest of the captains together during lunch today," Oliver said. "Told us Pucey's come down with Dragon Pox and won't be able to play on Saturday. He said, 'it would be a shame if we had to forfeit for something out of our control,'" Oliver said, doing a trollish impression of Marcus Flint. "He wanted Ravenclaw or Hufflepuff to take their place, so it would be 'fair'."

"No," Harry said incredulously.

"Yes," George said. "That new puff captain said Hufflepuff would take Slytherin's place."

"I can't believe Pucey came down with the pox right before the game though," Alicia said.

"I can't believe it either," Oliver said. "There haven't been any Hogsmeade weekends, and the castle's all but completely isolated. Where'd he catch it from?"

"Oh they're probably faking it," Fred said.

"There's a few potions you can use to fake the symptoms," George said. "If no one had taken the match for them, Pucey could have just had a speedy recovery in time for the match."

"Alright," Harry said. "That sucks, but it's not the end of the world."

"Yes it is," Oliver said. "We've been training to play Slytherin; the 'puffs have completely different tactics. And we had the advantage. Slytherin hasn't been practicing much in the rain, we have, and so has Hufflepuff. What's worse, Diggory's been getting his team ready to play Ravenclaw and Ravenclaw's a lot closer to our style than Hufflepuff is to Slytherin."

"Oliver," Kattie said. "I can assure you, Hufflepuff hasn't been practicing near as much in the rain as we have."

"Yeah, don't worry Ollie, no one does crazy like Gryffindor does crazy," George said. "Just get out the play book and let's start going over our Hufflepuff strategy."

"And someone pass Harry one of those sandwiches," Angelina said. "He's been eying them since you brought them in."

It was a long time before they left for the common room that night.


IIIIIIIIIIIII


Harry had been nervous on the way to Potions the next day. Things had been a bit weird with the professor when he had last seen him. He needn't have worried though, Professor Snape was his usual self. Or rather, usual for this year. It wasn't until after class when they had a study period that Harry started worrying about Professor Snape again. Hermione brought it about.

"I found a potion that might be useful," Hermione said.

"Werewolf repellant?" Ron asked.

"A lineage potion actually," Hermione said, giving Harry a significant look. "It's used to identify someone's parents. Since you can't show Professor Snape the letter, I thought you could use the potion when you tell him."

"If I tell him," Harry reminded her.

"If you tell him," Hermione agreed. "It could be useful. It is a little difficult, but you could make it easily enough."

"What about that adoption ritual though?" Ron asked. "Harry's dad did that thing to make him like the third parent. Would that mess with the lineage potion."

Hermione thought for a moment.

"I guess we'll just have to see," she said. "I know you're busy this week Harry, but we could brew it next week as a test."

"Yeah," Harry said. "I guess we could."

"Are you ready to work on your project with Professor Flitwick after class today?" Hermione asked.

"I am," Harry said. "And then I've got quidditch after dinner. I'm not going to have much time to do homework tonight."

"Well everything due tomorrow is already done," Hermione said. "But let's try to finish that essay for Transfiguration before the end of the study period."

"Fifteen bloody inches," Ron mumbled.

Oliver had decided to practice with four bludgers the night before and Harry was still sore from a couple of hits. He probably should have seen Madame Pomfrey, but Harry had been more concerned with getting back to the dormitory so he could check the status of the charm that was keeping him from bleeding to death on the inside after bludger hits like that. It did turn out to be holding, but Harry had had to renew it once more, as it hadn't been holding very strong.

Now though, he was working with the fourth-year defense study group practicing a binding jinx, and subsequently having one practiced upon him, and he found his sore spots really tender.

"You alright there Harry?" Anna asked.

"A little sore from quidditch yesterday," Harry said. "But I'm alright."

"Well I think we've got this jinx down pretty well, do you want to move on to something else?" Anna asked.

"Sure," Harry said. "What did you want to practice?"

"How about the banishing charm?" Anna asked.

"We learned that last year in charms," Harry said.

"I've been to dueling tournaments, and I've seen duelists banish objects into the path of spells," Anna said. "It's tricky though, you have to have a lot of control, and be very fast, but if you get good at it, you can save yourself a lot of energy."

"Oh, alright," Harry said. "That sounds tricky. Have you tried it before?"

"Not with someone shooting spells at me," Anna said.

"Right," Harry said. "Let's give it a shot then."

Anna summoned some pillows and left them strewn about the floor around her.

"What should I use?" Harry asked.

"Stinging hex," Anna said. "Gives me an incentive to try really hard, but we don't have to pause between hits."

"How fast do you want me to go?" Harry asked.

"How bout you start slow and we'll work from there," Anna said.

Alright," Harry said. "Ready?"

"Ready," Anna said.

Harry cast the stinging hex.

"Ow," Anna quietly said a moment before a pillow sailed through where the hex might have traveled.

"Um," Harry said.

"Keep going," Anna said.

There were quite a few more 'ow's over the next few minutes, and, just in Harry's head, one anthropomorphized 'ow' as one pillow blocked the hex.

"My, my, and last week you couldn't even stun her," Benjamin said coming up to the two of them. He was a bit flushed, having spent the practice time dueling his friend with both magic and muggle fighting.

"We've created a monster," Anna said. "He's been doing terrible things to me; but now the tables have turned and it's his turn to practice the banishing charm."

"Um," Harry said. "I'll try, but I'm pretty sure I don't have that much control over the charm yet."

"You'll have plenty of incentive," Anna said wickedly.

Harry practiced banishing a couple of pillows towards where he imagined an incoming hex would be. His confidence did not improve.

"Okay," Harry said. "Let's try it."

"Actually," Anna said, seeming to take pity. "How about you practice banishing a bit before next week. It's getting a bit late."

"Probably for the best," Harry said.

"Have you gotten enough of your fisticuffs, Benjie?" Anna asked. She had always treated it like a hoby rather than a defensive skill.

"Well, I've gotten enough for now," Benjamin said. "Although I won’t be satisfied until I get a chance to punch a Death Eater. I’ll just have to hope one pops up, perhaps next week."

"I think you'd be better off cursing one," Anna said.

"Oh, but what if I've lost my wand?" Benjamin asked.

"Probably best not to antagonize them then," Anna said.

"Well let's say Harry here is actually a Death Eater in disguise and he has me at wandpoint," Benjamin says, nodding at Harry. It takes Harry a moment to realize that he is expected to point his wand at Benjamin. "See now, my wand's in my pocket, and by the time I've drawn it and thought of something to do with it, Harry's already cursed me. Harry, however is so confident in the relative power balance, wherein he comes out on top because he is the only one holding a wand, that he has forgotten that we are too close to one another and spells actually take time to cast. So suppose Harry starts to cast a spell…"

Benjamin looked expectantly at Harry who realized that he was actually expected to attack him.

"Tarantall…" Harry got out before Benjamin was very much in his personal space and his wand arm was quickly locked up in an awkward position with only the older boys hand twisting his wrist.

"Of course all I really need to do is disrupt the wand motion briefly and get a strike in to the windpipe or the nose. It's hard to pronounce spells properly with a broken nose," Benjamin said, releasing Harry who shook out his wrist. "If you know what you're doing, the safest place to be when you're faced with an armed wizard, while you are not, is right in front of him. Now if Harry here were on the other side of the room, I'd be a bit screwed, but Harry would take a bit longer to aim and I might have time to duck for cover and pull my own wand."

"Are you coming Anna?" a Ravenclaw girl called out. "I don't want to fall asleep trying to finish our project tonight."

"Coming," Anna called out. "I'll see you two. Night."

"Night," both boys said.

Benjamin looked a bit put out with Anna's sudden departure.

"Too bad I couldn't do that with a real Death Eater," Harry said.

"Why not?" Benjamin asked, turning his attention back to Harry.

"Well, you know," Harry said. "'Cause I'm like this," he said gesturing to himself. "And they're like this," he said holding his hand high above his head. No better able to protect himself when he was thirteen than before Hogwarts.

"Doesn't matter," Benjamin said. "Disrupt, disarm, disable, that's what you need to do, and you don't need to be stronger than them. Say I'm Snape, and I've finally decided to do you in."

Harry grimaced for the choice of the scenario.

"I've drawn my wand on you," Benjamin said. "You come in, disrupt the spellcasting, take my wand and drop me."

"Oh right," Harry said. "That's all. Wish I'd thought of that before."

"Well it's like before," Benjamin said. "I didn't actually use much strength to get you into that wristlock. Most moves like that involve redirecting your opponent’s movements, using their momentum against them. Once you're in a wristlock, you're basically at my mercy. Let me see your hand."

Harry very reluctantly held out his arm.

"So, see, I take you back to where I just had you while you were the Death Eater, and now with just a small twist, your fingers involuntarily uncurl, and you drop your wand. Hardly any strength at all."

Harry's hand involuntarily let go of his wand which clattered to the floor.

"I twist a little bit more," Benjamin said.

Harry suddenly found himself standing on his tiptoes as his body reacted and tried to get his immobilized arm back into a position where it didn't feel like it was about to be ripped off, which was odd, since it didn't actually hurt per se.

Benjamin let go.

"From that position it's pretty easy to get someone face down on the ground," Benjamin said. "Even if they've got six stone on you."

"So you think I could do that with a Death Eater?" Harry asked skeptically.

"Well sure," Benjamin said. "With a lot of practice."

"What if they've grabbed you?" Harry asked. "Or they're like, on top of you, say."

"Well grappling’s a bit different," Benjamin said. "But there's some things you can use depending on the situation. Size does matter a bit there, but if you know what you're doing, and they don't, you've got a decent chance. A lot of wizards sort of think that hand to hand combat is pretty muggle, so they dismiss it. Don't do with your hands what you can do with your wand, you know."

"That's pretty cool," Harry said as by unspoken agreement they both headed out of the classroom and back to Gryffindor tower. "I wish I'd known some of that over the summer."

"I could teach you some," Benjamin said.

"Oh, you don't have to do that," Harry said.

"It's no problem," Benjamin said. "I don't get to practice enough anymore anyhow."

"Really?" Harry asked.

"Sure," Benjamin said. "How ‘bout Sunday, after lunch."

"That'd be great," Harry said. "Thanks."

"It's cool," Benjamin said. "So are we ready to beat Hufflepuff on Saturday?"

"Yes," Harry said. "Though don't expect it to be a quick game. It's going to be storming and the snitch's going to be pretty hard to find."

"I really wish you were playing Slytherin," Benjamin said. "That was going to be a good game."

Yeah, a great game in a storm.

"Hufflepuff's got a pretty good team this year," Harry said. "Not as good as we are mind, but it's not going to be too one sided."

"I can't believe that snake caught the pox," Benjamin said.

"Yeah, well, we'll just be doubly prepared to play them when we do," Harry said.

"Oy, Harry," the voice of one of the twins called out from behind them. Harry turned around.

"Emergency quidditch meeting," George said.

"Again!" Harry said. "We just had an emergency quidditch meeting over dinner. And let me tell you, Flemming's halfway decent attempt at a Prisoner's Feint during the Puff's practice isn't an emergency."

"No time to explain," Fred said, before veritably dragging Harry off.

"But homework," Harry's protest fell on deaf ears. He gave a forlorn wave to Benjamin.

The three of them were soon in an unused lecture hall. They were the only ones there.

"Ok, so, quidditch meeting, or secret meeting?" Harry asked.

The twins both grinned at him.

"We have a prototype," George said.

"Want to try it out? Fred asked.

"Am I your guinea pig?" Harry asked suspiciously.

"Oh we've worked the kinks out," George said.

"Painfully," Fred said.

"But we've got it down pat now," George said.

"Alright," Harry said. "I'm game."

Fred held up a pair of cloth gloves that Harry put on. He looked at the twins expectantly.

"Well," Harry said. "Let's see it then."

"That's it," Fred said, gesturing to the gloves which Harry had assumed had been for protection, as the twins had always worn gloves when he had seen them working on the project. Harry looked at his hands. They didn't look like anything special.

"Or rather," George said. "That's all you really need, but there's going to be more. We'll explain."

"Right," Harry said. "Cool, ok so how does it work?"

"It's very simple," George said. "Approach the wall or whatever obstacle is in front of you, stick out your hand and just walk through."

"But you've actually got to think about going through the wall," Fred said. "You need both elements of intent, the action and the target."

"That's a bit of a safety really," George said. "You really don't want to accidentally go through anyone."

"Yeah," Harry said. "That would be weird."

"Actually it could kill them," Fred said, looking about as serious as Harry had ever seen him outside of the end of second year.

"What?" Harry asked, looking down at the gloves again with apprehension and moving his hands away from his body, being careful not to touch himself with them.

"Remember when we said that we're basically disassembling everything in our path and telling it to reassemble itself once we're through?" George asked.

Harry nodded.

"Well we don't exactly have the spell work precise enough, so everything gets put back together exactly perfectly," Fred said.

"Which is fine for walls and stuff," George said.

"But if it's a living thing that has, you know, cells, and capillaries and nerves and whatnot," Fred said.

"Not getting put back just right tends to make it all not work at all," George said.

"But no worries," Fred said. "You could punch Malfoy in the face while wearing that glove and as long as you aren't thinking, 'I want this glove to go through his head,' you're good."

"Though best not to chance it," George said. "Just make sure you're not wearing the gloves when you punch Malfoy."

Harry wondered what they would say if it were Malfoy senior, who had given Ginny the diary.

"So it's safe?" Harry asked.

"Yes," Fred said at the same time that George said, "Mostly."

The two brothers gave each other an odd look.

"Right," Harry said. "So I can just go through that wall right there."

"Go ahead," George said. "We've already tested it."

"Some walls have wards up," Fred said. "Like just about everything in the dungeons. So don't try to go too quickly through walls you haven't been through before."

"Yeah," George said. "No swan dives through new walls."

Harry wondered just which walls the twins had tried to get through in the dungeons.

"Go on then," Fred said, pointing to the wall.

"Don't lock your elbow," George advised. "If you don't go through, for some reason, you want to be able to brace yourself."

"And remember," Fred said. "You're basically going through a hole in the wall. So everything going in has to follow something else. If you've only got one glove on and you put one hand through, you can't just put you other hand on the wall a couple feet away and expect it to go through. We'll have something for the tips of your shoes in a bit, so be careful how you walk. It's best for your body to follow through. Don't bang your knee or anything."

That was a lot to think about, actually.

Harry walked to the wall with his hands outstretched. He focused on walking through the wall, though it was more like leaning forward until he thought he was through past his waist and stepping forward. It didn't feel like walking through the barrier at Kings Cross, which felt like walking through nothing at all. The barrier, Hermione had explained with no prompting at all, wasn't actually a wall, but rather an illusion over a ward. Using the twin's invention, though, it felt like walking through a wall of water, only it didn't feel wet.

He found himself in another classroom. He turned around and walked back through the wall. The twins were grinning at him. He grinned back.

As it turned out though, there was about a five-minute safety lecture next that Harry felt was a bit out of character for the twins, but he supposed they probably hadn't ever invented something that could easily kill someone. Though Harry hadn't needed to be told not to dive through the floor.

"We think we can manage something that will let whatever part of you you want start the hole. Like a bracelet you wear and then you can stick you head through a wall if you like, but that's a way's away," George said. "In the meantime we're making a bunch of patches you can put on your shoes or the hood of a cloak or your shoulders. Just so you have options."

"So," Fred asked. "Got any plans?"

Harry sometimes thought the twins mistook his penchant for rule breaking and adventure for a fondness for mischief.

"Well next time someone tries to kidnap me I'm going to dive through a wall and hope they try to do the same," Harry said, at a loss for thinking up something that would impress the twins.

"Well fair warning," George said. "If you're tempted to stroll into the Slytherin common room, that wall's warded."

"Oh getting in there was easy enough," Harry boasted.

"You infiltrated Slytherin," Fred asked.

"Ron never mentioned?" Harry asked.

"No," George said. "Do tell."

"Oh it's not that interesting really," Harry said. "See you tomorrow."

Harry dove through the nearest wall and made his escape with a grin while the twins called out demanding explanations.


IIIIIIIIIIIIIIII


The promised storm had come, and quidditch was not canceled for mere weather. The sun was still up, and would be for another couple of hours, but the thick roiling clouds looked black under the lights over the pitch casting the rest of the grounds in darkness. The team's warmups had left them felling pretty chilled as they listened to Oliver's pep talk in the co-ed section of the locker rooms. Oliver of course didn't look put out by the weather at all. He looked a bit nervous, but he would be happy playing alongside a tornado.

"… and don't forget," Oliver was nearly shouting. "They wanted to take Slytherin's place, so we're going to give them everything we were saving for Slytherin. Now let's go out there and win this thing."

"Don't worry Ollie, we've got this game in the bag," Angelina said confidently.

They all got off the benches and walked to the entrance, brooms in hand. They could hear the wind blowing outside as they listened for Lee Jordan to announce them.

"Now Harry," Fred said. "We'll be rather put out if you let someone try to kill you this year."

"Yeah," Harry said. "I'm sure Greyback's just been waiting till now to attack. Right when I'm surrounded by hundreds of people."

"A precedence has been set," George said.

"Every year during the first game someone tries to off you," Fred said.

Harry resisted the urge to roll his eyes. He was determined that he would have a normal quidditch match, and furthermore he was determined that he wouldn't be visiting the hospital wing again this year. He was relatively confident that no one should be trying to kill him within the next few hours at least. Still though, he had recast the Sang Vitalis Charm on himself right before he had headed down to the pitch, just in case.

"Actually last year was a house elf trying to get me so injured I'd be sent home so I would be safe from the basilisk," Harry said. "So you see, he wasn't trying to kill me, he was trying to save me. Though I can see how you could think otherwise."

"Wait," Fred said.

"What?" George said.

"And first on the pitch is GRYFFINDOR," Lee Jordan's magically amplified voice called out.

Harry smirked at the twins. Lee's timing had been perfect, and Harry only wished he had timed it himself, for rarely was it the twins who were flabbergasted. His expression sobered though as he turned to the pitch. Huffing at the rain, he hopped onto his broom, flying out into the storm. The Gryffindor team started circling the pitch in formation as Lee Jordan called out their names and positions, giving short blurb biographies of the players. Before long, the Hufflepuff team was called out and the two teams were hovering opposite each other as Oliver and Diggory shook hands. The quaffle was tossed, the bludgers and snitch released, and the players took off.

The game moved slowly, and it didn't take Harry long to feel dragged down by his drenched robes, frozen limbs, and the ever so slight tug of the dementors patrolling the walls in the distance. Harry rather wished he could catch the snitch quickly and get back to the castle, though he might as well wish that they were allowed to charm their robes for warmth, it was unlikely he would be spotting the snitch in this weather; the lights that illuminated the pitch were refracting through raindrops causing little bits of sparkle that were vaguely reminiscent of the flash of the snitch and Harry usually relied on that flash of light to spot the little golden ball that was usually too far away for him to focus on properly. Whenever the snitch was spotted, it would be by luck. Being able to play quidditch was one of the things that Harry loved most about the wizarding world, but there were a fair few things he would change about how it was played, if he could.

The quaffle was a bit harder to throw and catch while chilled to the bone and possession of the ball changed frequently, though after the first hour Gryffindor was up by fifty points. Of course, it was still anyone's game. Harry made sure to keep Diggory in the corner of his eye while he flew. Harry's glasses were more than a bit of a hindrance in rain and if either of them was more likely to spot the snitch first it was the Diggory, he was almost tempted to just take them off. Realistically, Harry was probably going to have to rely on his skill and his faster broom if he was going to win.

Flying by the teacher's stand, Harry noticed Professor Snape observing the game. The professors of course had charms to keep the weather at bay. For whatever reason, Harry felt a renewed vigor to find the snitch.

It was another hour before Oliver called a time out. It had been some time since the players and the crowd's enthusiasm had waned. The players took shelter under the awning over the door to the locker room and Angelina cast drying charms on everyone while Oliver started giving out pointers. Harry thought he had mostly wanted a break rather than actually having anything to say to them. Gryffindor was up by seventy points and the only person who had much say on how the game went at this point was Harry, and Oliver could hardly give Harry pointers on how to see better. Though that didn't stop him from telling Harry that he needed to catch the snitch sooner rather than later. Not even Oliver, it seemed, could keep up his enthusiasm for the game in such horrible weather. Harry nodded and assured everyone he would be catching the snitch soon.

It was a half an hour later that he saw it out of the corner of his eye, zooming right past him in the exact opposite direction. Harry flipped around, his momentum carrying him backwards before he accelerated hard. It took him a moment to catch sight of the snitch again and as he did he also noticed Diggory at his ten o'clock making a sharp turn, coming around to intercept. Harry could vaguely hear the roar of the crowd in the background, new life coming into the stadium as the end of the game was in sight.

The snitch rapidly changed course as both boys approached from opposite directions, briefly shooting up before plummeting towards the ground. Harry almost thought he had lost sight of it before he saw it dropping; Diggory never stopped tracking it though and his own dive started a moment before Harry's. Their dives towards the ground were soon followed by two cracks of beaters bats and first Diggory and then Harry were dodging bludgers. The snitch was dropping straight to the ground and Harry didn't think he would catch it before it would have to level out and he wished he could see it better to gauge which direction it would soon be breaking in.

Harry's lead on Diggory was lost when another bludger cut him off, Harry had just barely seen the ball out of the corner of his eye in time to avoid it completely. He got back on track just in time to see the ball dart out towards the base of the Gryffindor stands. Harry's turn was faster than Diggory's and they were soon neck and neck. The crowd was now roaring with excitement as the two boys skimmed a few feet above the grass of the pitch, soon rocketing up and up as the snitch made a wide arc that skimmed along the base of the stands as it rocketed into the sky. Diggory wasn't far behind when another bludger caused him to swerve and the Gryffindor students were lucky that bludgers couldn't fly into the stands because otherwise it would have gone right into the crowd. He was right next to Diggory now and they were so close to the snitch.

The odd thing was though, that Harry didn't feel like he was about the catch the snitch, he didn't feel the thrill of the chase or even relief that the game was about to be over. All Harry could feel was the cold. It was so cold, as it had always been cold; he couldn't remember ever not being cold. The sun had gone down and he had failed. A woman was screaming. He was so cold, and he knew that she was warmth, but she was so far away and he couldn't help her and he would never be warm ever. He would always be cold, he would always be alone, and she was screaming until she wasn't and the cold was pierced by a malevolent high pitched laugh.

There was a brief moment of warmth before everything lurched.

He was such a freak; he had never truly understood the word until then. He shivered in the hallway, afraid to make a noise, afraid for anyone to see him ever again. It was so cold. He was such a horrible boy, he knew, and there wasn't anything Harry could think to do to change that. He didn't know how he had done it, but he had, he hadn't even taken his one opportunity to stop it. He knew now why Aunt Petunia krinkled her nose when she looked at him, why Father Christmas left him only coal, why the other children at school knew to stay away from him. They didn't need Dudley's threats, they could all see in an instant what Harry had not known until then. It would happen again. Something would. He knew now what 'unnatural' meant. He had caused this and he would cause something unnatural again. He could still see the dark look from Uncle Vernon, contempt and anger clear on his face. It would happen again unless Harry stopped it. Maybe…

Shift.

Harry briefly had the feeling of his stomach being in his throat before all he could see was a bright light as the cold was leached out of his bones and he knew that he was safe.

Shift.

It was so cold. He had never been so cold. It had always been cold. It would always be cold. His bed clothes were completely soaked. The rain mixed with the tears streaming down his face as he looked up at the handle to the backyard door, he was crying, but he knew not to make a sound. His shoulder still ached from being dragged outside. He wanted so badly to be let back in, but he knew he was dirty. He knew he would mess the floor. He shouldn't have had that water before bed.

Everything lurched and Harry felt pain all over and he briefly saw bright lights all around him as rain fell all over him. People were screaming.

Shift.

The wand was useless in his hand. He had failed and he struggled for his own life, pinned and helpless, before Ms. Adler's was violently and viscerally taken from her by that same wand. He had failed and she had died. If only she had known he was such a freak. Perhaps she would have stayed inside. Even the heat of the chase couldn't take away from the cold chill he felt. If he hadn't failed…

Shift.

He was warm. He was safe. People were screaming, everything hurt, but he knew that he would be alright. Harry blacked out.


IIIIIIIIIIIII


Harry woke up in the hospital wing. He could see outside the windows that the storm seemed to have passed and he idly wondered how long he had been out this time. As he was used to, he felt oddly very rested, like he had had a great night’s sleep. Put together with the aches and pains though and it made for an odd dichotomy.

“Harry!” Hermione exclaimed. Harry quickly spotted his friends sitting next to his bed.

“What happened?” Harry asked.

“Dementors swarmed the pitch mate,” Ron said, handing Harry a bar of chocolate that had been sitting on the nightstand. “You um… you passed out and fell off your broom.”

“What?!” Harry asked, his cheeks flaming. The whole school had seen that; he had passed out in the middle of a quidditch match! “What happened to the game though? Was it postponed, or did they sub someone in for me? How long has it been? I can go back out there, I feel alright.” The team was going to hate him, he had been so close to the damned snitch.

“Do you?” Hermione asked, looking at Harry seriously.

“What?” Harry asked.

“Do you feel alright?” Hermione asked.

“Yeah, sure,” Harry lied, trying to get up in bed. He’d worked through worse at the Dursley’s and he needed to get back to the pitch. Hermione, however, was pushing him back towards the bed.

“The match’s over mate,” Ron said. “It’s well past midnight.”

“No,” Harry said. “It can’t have been that long, I didn’t pass out for that long last time.”

“Harry you almost died,” Hermione said, very upset. “Forget about the stupid game, you fell. I think someone must have summoned you because you fell towards the bleachers instead of the ground, but you still hit very hard, and with all your injuries I thought to check, and if I hadn’t…”

Hermione broke off, very upset, Harry was worried to see tears in her eyes.

“Hermione did that test, the one for the blood charm,” Ron said.

“Did anyone see you do the charm?” Harry asked worried.

“I doubt anyone noticed,” Ron said. “I thought she was just being paranoid but it was red. You said it was supposed to last a couple years at least.”

“What?” Harry asked shocked. “No, I reapplied it right before the game.” The charm had never worn off so quickly before.

“You reapplied it?” Hermione asked. “You knew it wasn’t lasting as long as it should?”

Harry’s cheeks flamed red.

“I, I had it under control,” Harry said.

“Control?” Ron asked, gobsmacked. “You would have died if Hermione hadn’t done anything. No one would have known you were bleeding to death on the inside.”

“It’s never worn off so fast before,” Harry said.

“So it has worn off before,” Hermione said.

“It hasn’t gotten that far in a while,” Harry said. “I’ve gotten good about checking myself regularly.”

“And you didn’t say anything?” Hermione asked incredulously.

“I had it handled,” Harry said.

“You clearly didn’t,” Hermione said.

Harry huffed and looked away.

“Why isn’t it lasting though?” Ron asked.

“I don’t know,” Harry said, miserably. “One day it’s doing fine and then the next it’s just drained.”

“Why didn’t you tell us Harry?” Hermione asked. “We need to know these things in case something happens.”

Harry shrugged. “I kew if I told you you’d go tell…” Harry was suddenly panicked. “Hermione, did you tell Madame Pomfrey?"

"No," Hermione said, and now she looked worried but resolute. "But I'm going to."

"Hermione, no!" Harry said desperately. "You can't."

"I can and I will," Hermione said. "Either you go and talk to the man who's been living with this condition his whole life and ask him what's going wrong, or I talk to Madame Pomfrey. That's it."

"Yeah mate," Ron said. "Friends don't let friends bleed to death."

Harry shot Ron a panicked look, he was very surprised to find that Ron was on Hermione's side in this discussion.

"What if she figures it out?" Harry asked.

"She's not going to figure it out," Hermione said. "We talked about this, remember, and what would be so terrible if she did. She's a medical professional, she's hardly going to be going to tabloids with it."

"She'll tell Snape," Harry said.

"You're supposed to be telling Snape," Hermione said in exasperation.

"I haven't…" Harry started.

"Oh you've decided," Hermione said rolling her eyes. "You've just been putting it off."

"I have to be sure," Harry said.

"You're never going to be sure," Hermione said. "You just have to do it. Now if you don't want me to talk to Madame Pomfrey, you'll have an excellent reason to do it tomorrow, and I'm going to cast the Sang Vitalis Diagnostic on you every hour until you do."

"She's been doing it all night," Ron said.

"I'll talk to him," Harry said, surprised himself that the words had come out of his mouth. But the man would probably have answers, and Harry supposed he couldn't afford to let his hemophilia be an issue any longer.

"Good," Ron said. "He came to check up on you, you know."

"Who?" Harry asked incredulously. "Professor Snape?"

"Yeah," Ron said. "Gave us a funny look, like he hadn't wanted to be seen, but then he went and talked to Madame Pomfrey. Asked her if she needed anything brewed, like she wouldn't have told him already if she were running low on something."

"You think he was here because of me?" Harry asked.

"You're not the only one who got a bit attached," Ron said with a shrug.

Harry had a hard time accepting that Professor Snape might actually like him enough to be worried about him.

"Are you really feeling alright though?" Ron asked. "That looked like a really horrible landing. You had a couple bones poking out before Madame Pomfrey got to you."

Harry grimaced at the thought of that and was very glad that he hadn't actually seen that himself.

"I'm just a bit sore," Harry said. "What happened to the game though?"

Ron looked down and Harry knew he didn't have any good news.

"We lost mate," Ron said. "Diggory caught the snitch right after you started to slow down. He tried to forfeit the win and ask for a rematch when he realized you'd fallen and whatnot, but I think even Wood agreed that it was a fair win. Quidditch doesn't stop for dementors unless someone calls for a time out. You should have seen Dumbledore though, he was something else. I've never seen him so mad. Sort of makes you realize why You-Know-Who was afraid of him. He cast this really bright charm that drove off all of the dementors."

Harry couldn't believe that he had lost. He had never lost before, and to lose like this; to be the only one who was so affected by dementors and to fail when everyone had been counting on him; he was mortified.

"Why'd they have to swarm the pitch then of all times though?" Harry asked angrily. "Weren't they restricted from the grounds?"

"I suppose all those people in one place were a bit more than they could resist," Hermione said.

"Especially when everyone got all excited you'd seen the snitch," Ron said. "Like leaving the oven door ajar when there's a roast in it."

Harry winced slightly at the mental image of himself sitting in an oven while a dementor waited outside to eat him.

"Oh," Harry said. "How's my broom? I didn't fall on it did I?"

"It started drifting in the wind," Ron said. "The twins went with a few of the Hufflepuff players to go find it before it could get across the English Channel. It should be in the dorms."

Harry hoped that that was the case.

"How mad was the team?" Harry asked, worried.

"No one was mad Harry," Hermione said. "Everyone was really worried about you."

"I really let them down," Harry said morosely, no one else was passing out around dementors.

"It's hardly your fault," Ron said.

"Yeah," Harry said, if only so he wouldn't have to hear the platitudes.

"Look," Hermione said. "You should really get some more sleep. After everything you've been through, magical healing can take a lot out of you."

Harry didn't feel tired though, but he didn't feel like arguing with Hermione then and he had a lot to think about.

"Night," Harry said. "And thanks… for you know, um, saving my life."

He'd said that way to many times in the past year.

"You're welcome," Hermione said. "Sleep well."

Harry didn't sleep for a long while and when he did, he dreamed of blood.


IIIIIIIIIII


Severus really wished he didn't have to grade essays. It wasn't really the atrocious errors the children made that made the process taxing, but rather reading about the same topic dozens of times over. A knock came at his door, breaking the tedium.

"Come in," he said.

The door cracked open slowly and a messy mop of jet black hair poked in. Severus was rather surprised to see it as the boy that had been preoccupying his mind that morning edged through the doorway. The boy had escaped the hospital wing in record time.

"Is it alright if I talk to you for a bit professor," Harry Potter asked.

"Of course," Severus said. "Is this about your project?"

"Oh," Harry said. "That's going alright, sir. I got Impervious to work with the potion. Most everything else though either just doesn't work or doesn't last, or only has a minimal effect. Professor Flitwick said most everything that works would have already been figured out and in the book, but it's fun to work out how to merge each charm with the potion and then test it, even if it doesn't work. Um, but that's not what I came down for."

The boy paused, his eyes darted about for a moment like he was looking for words.

"Was there something I could help you with?" Severus asked, having no idea where this was going.

"Yes," Harry Potter said. "You see Professor, well, that letter I told you about was really sent to let me know about a medical thing. It turns out my dad had had Hemophilia and I got it too and there's this spell that I need to renew, but…"

"You fool," Severus snapped, standing up.

The boy gapped up at him.

"I…" But the boy didn't seem to have anything else to say.

"It's taken you this long to say something?" Severus asked. "How many times have you had to recast the spell this year?"

"A few," Potter said.

"A few," Severus snarled. "You could have died. You should have died, how on earth did you survive last night?"

"Hermione thought to check," Potter said. "Do you know why it's wearing off? It isn't supposed to, not like that, but you make it sound like…"

"Different magics wear at the spell differently," Severus said, pinching the bridge of his nose and trying to rein in his temper. He occluded briefly to clear his head. "Dementors tear right through it."

"Oh," Potter said. "That explains a lot actually. Ok, well I was hoping there would be a potion or something that might help."

Severus sighed.

"Wait here," he said.

Countless people working to make sure the boy lived long enough to graduate from school and he takes to dancing around his own grave. Severus walked into his storeroom and grabbed a phial. He returned to the very sheepish looking boy.

"Drink this," he commanded a bit brusquely.

The boy stared at the phial for a moment before casting his eyes down for a moment and downing the potion.

"Before the Sang Vitalis Charm was invented, there was the Sang Olaes Potion," Severus said, having now calmed down significantly. "Today is Sunday, you will return every Sunday for another dose. Do you understand?"

"Yes sir," Potter said, looking very grateful. "Is there anything I need to worry about besides having to retake the potion?"

"You will find yourself craving green leafy vegetables," Severus said. "Do not take anything with Taproot or Doxy wings in it. Besides that, there are no other side effects. The potion works as well as the charm but is not affected by dementors. You need no longer worry about applying the Sang Vitalis Charm. Once the school is no longer surrounded by dementors you will resume with the charm, but you will always carry a phial of the potion on you, just in case. Now would you care to explain why it has taken you this long to say anything?"

"I thought I had it under control, Sir," Harry Potter said. "I was checking myself regularly, and I figured with practice I'd get better at casting the charm and it wouldn't wear off. The letter made it sound a bit like a family secret, so I figured I'd keep it to myself. I guess I never really think things through."

Severus had never told Madame Pomfrey himself, but his own family was well versed in the illness and it's treatments and their drawbacks.

"Then it would be best if you did not feel the need to handle everything yourself," Severus said. "There are many people who are here to help you. You should utilize them. Particularly if you do not think things through."

"Oh, right," Harry Potter said. "So, um, on the train you did that spell to get rid of the dementor. What's it called?"

"It's called a patronus," Severus said. "But it is a seventh-year spell Mr. Potter. The staff will make sure that we do not have a repeat performance of last night. Stay away from the ground's perimeter and you should have no reason to come across a dementor again."

"Oh," Harry said. "Alright… So, you know, I'm only working with Professor Flitwick one day a week, and I figured, with that extra bit of free time, if you still need lab assistants for your project, I can work Saturday evenings into my schedule."

Severus was caught off guard by the offer that seemed to come out of nowhere. Again, the boy was going out of his way to work around Severus. He was aware of the classes the boy was taking, he would hardly say that the boy had much by way of free time. Why volunteer? The boy was an enigma. Then again, he had not been overwhelmed by the response to his posting for lab assistants.

"You will mostly be preparing ingredients," Severus told the boy.

"I'm sure I'll learn a lot by observing," Harry Potter said. "Thanks for the potion, professor. I really appreciate it."

"Do try to stay out of trouble Mr. Potter," Severus said.

"I'll try professor," Harry Potter said on his way out. "I've never been very good at that though, come to think of it."

"And yet, I would still be rather put out if you were not around to get into trouble, so at least try to stay out of the Hospital Wing," Severus said.

The boy paused on his way to the door. "I will," the boy said. "Have a good day professor."

Severus had a feeling that that last exchange had been highly significant to the boy, but he still could not fathom how. He certainly hadn't been lying. His stomach had been in his throat when the boy had fallen. It had felt so foreign to him, because he knew then that it hadn't been about Lily, and it hadn't been about the prophecy. It had been worry for the boy and Severus couldn't quite identify when that transition had been made. That Harry had come all the closer to death the night before was not a welcome revelation. How odd that they would share this illness. That he had shared it with Potter. He briefly entertained the notion that all of the pureblood families had been passing it down for generations while keeping it a secret from one another.


IIIIIIIIIIIIII


Harry took a deep breath after he walked out of Professor Snape's office. That had gone a lot better than he had thought it would. Harry replayed the interaction in his head over and over again as he made his way up to Gryffindor.

"How'd it go?" Ron asked.

"He gave me a potion," Harry said. "I take it every Sunday. I don't need to worry about the charm anymore."

"...Cool," Ron said. "But how'd he take the whole thing."

"Well he was angry at first, cause I could have died, but he calmed down pretty quickly," Harry said. The way Harry saw it, he was glad that he knew that the man wouldn't just revert to his old self just because he was angry at him.

"Harry," Hermione said in exasperation. "What did he say when he found out you were his son?"

"I didn't tell him," Harry said. "He didn't even seem to suspect."

"Bloody hell," Ron said. "What are you waiting for. This was the perfect time to bring it up."

"But it wasn't," Harry said. "What if he thought I was making it up. See now, I think Hermione was on to something with that lineage potion. I want to learn how to brew that first."

"And then you'll tell him," Hermione said. It wasn't a question.

There was a pause where Harry thought about it.

"Yes," Harry said. "And then I'll tell him."

"It's not an easy potion," Hermione said. "Though I have a feeling you were banking on this taking a while."

Harry shrugged.

"Let's get to work then," Hermione said.

They worked until lunch. The potion wasn't exactly as difficult as Polyjuice Potion, or the Widow's Shield Potion, but it still wasn't the sort of thing they'd brew in class during Double Potions.

He had forgotten his arrangement with Benjamin until the older boy tapped him on the shoulder as Harry was finishing his lunch at the Gryffindor Table; Professor Snape had been right, Harry was craving green leafy vegetables, but he certainly didn't enjoy them.

"You still on for after lunch?" Benjamin asked. "Or are you still all banged up from yesterday."

"Oh, no, I'm alright," Harry said. "Madame Pomfrey you know; she patched me up good as new. You still want to?"

"Of course," Benjamin said. "It'll be fun."

"Alright," Harry said. "I'm ready to leave now." He turned to Ron and Hermione. "I'll see you in an hour or so. I'm doing some defense work with Benjamin. Oh, right. This is Benjamin, Benjamin this is Ron and Hermione."

The three exchanged greetings and Harry and Benjamin found an unused classroom and cleared out a space to work in. Benjamin cast a few cushioning charms on the ground.

They started by stretching and then Benjamin showed Harry some different wrist locks that Harry found easy enough to do if he was being attacked in slow motion.

"You were interested in grappling though, right?" Benjamin asked.

"Yeah," Harry said. "Like if someone's grabbed you."

"Alright," Benjamin said. "There's a few different scenarios I can show you. Let's say you've grabbed my arm."

By this point, Harry knew that in such a hypothetical, he was actually expected to act it out. He grabbed Benjamin's arm.

"Right, so the weak point of a grip is the thumb," Benjamin said. "Most people try to break away from someone like this… but they're working against the fingers. So if you twist like this… you can break their grip. Of course, if you're this close to them you'll either want to be ready to run or strike, so know what you're going to do before you break the hold. Alright now you try."

Benjamin's grip was very firm but not terribly tight around Harry's rather lean arm. It rather seemed improbable that any trick would break him free, but he tried anyway and was surprised when he did in fact break loose. Still though, Benjamin was a far cry away from an adult's stature.

"Right," Benjamin said. "So let's say someone's grabbed you from behind, so both your arms are pinned to your sides. Instead of pushing your arms away from your body to break their grasp, you want to pull your arms in and then up like this." Benjamin showed him the motion.

"This might actually be a bit much for someone who can't be more than 145 centimeters," Benjamin said to Harry, who didn't need to be reminded that he was one of the shortest students in third year. "So you might want to pull your legs up at the same time so they're also holding up your dead weight. Here," Benjamin said, indicating for Harry to turn around.

Harry soon found his arms trapped to his sides as Benjamin's arms wrapped around him from behind. Harry had the very uncomfortable feeling of being trapped. He was certain he wouldn't be breaking free of this one.

He brought his arms inward and upward like Benjamin had shown him anyway, but the older boys arms barely budged. Harry tried again, his sense of unease growing. Finally he tried lifting his legs at the same time. Benjamin grunted as he found himself holding all of Harry's weight as Harry tried the move once more, sliding out from the boy's arms, entirely unprepared to land on the ground.

"Good job," Benjamin said. "Alright, we've been at this for a while. Suppose we just do one more."

"Sounds good," said Harry, who was feeling a bit exhausted by the lessons.

"So this'll be fun," Benjamin said. "All of those wrist locks I showed you, once you've got them in a lock, there's a few different ways to force them face down on the ground from that point, even if you're smaller. I'll show you how next time, but you need to do it right, because if you leave them an opening there's a way for them to flip the tables. So let's say that you've just forced me to the ground and you're pinning me with your knee on my back."

Benjamin hopped down to the ground, but Harry hesitated.

"You want me to put my knee into your back?" Harry asked.

"You can't weigh more than 35 kilos," Benjamin said. "I think I'd be fine if you jumped on me."

Harry frowned but got down and pinned Benjamin, putting his hand on the boy's shoulders to hold him down. He had certainly been in that position a good number of times thanks to Dudley and his gang. Dudley had definitely weighed more than 35 kilograms back then though.

"Alright, so there's a few options here, but if I were you I'd stick to this move here. I'll do it slow."

Benjamin twisted and squirmed and slow as he was moving it did seem that suddenly the boy wasn't underneath him on his stomach, but rather next to him on his side.

"So from here now your center of balance is off and it would be easy for me to push you over and make a run for it, or I could grab you like this… and flip us… and now I have you pined. Now this hold here is much more static you see…"

Benjamin was still talking, but Harry wasn't listening. He was trapped. He couldn't move. He had to break free but he couldn't move. He needed to get away, but he was trapped. He had let this happen. Everything was his fault. He was trapped. He couldn't breath. He was going to die.

Harry struggled. He wanted to scream but he knew that he couldn't. He had to get away. If only he could get away. He thrashed about.

"Harry," he heard some time later. "Harry are you alright?"

He was taking huge gasping breaths. His back was to the wall in the back corner of the room, his legs were curled up and his arms were protecting his face. He had to catch his breath. He was nauseous and covered in sweat.

"I-it's alright, Harry," Benjamin said. "You're alright. Just breath. Everything's good. You just need to calm down."

It took Harry a long moment to focus on where he was, what they had been doing. It took him a long moment to realize what had happened, but when he did…

"I'm sorry," Harry said quickly. "I'm sorry, I don't know…"

"It's alright," Benjamin said.

There was a long awkward silence while Harry caught his breath.

"That happened over the summer," Benjamin said. "Didn't it."

Harry didn't say anything, he just tried to catch his breath.

"You said on Thursday this stuff would have come in handy over the summer. Did Greyback have you pinned like that?" Benjamin asked.

Harry just nodded, because he didn't think he could look at Benjamin just then, much less talk to him. There was a longer moment of silence before Harry got up on unsteady legs and ran from the room.

"Are you sure nothing happened?" Hermione asked tentatively.

"For the last time, Hermione, nothing happened," Harry said trying to keep how much he was at the end of this tether out of his voice.

"There he is," said Ron with a conspiratorial whisper.

"Just leave it," Harry said.

"Do we need to have a talk with him?" Ron asked darkly.

"No!" Harry said, frustrated. "He didn't do anything. Can we just eat our breakfast?"

"Right," Ron said. "You just showed up from your lesson with him looking like you'd been surrounded by dementors for no reason. I guess you skipped dinner for no reason too."

"Harry," Hermione tried again. "If something happened you need to tell someone. It's not just going to go away. We didn't do enough when people were giving you trouble in the halls back in September and look what happened."

"He didn't do anything," Harry said miserably. He had been miserable since the afternoon prior. He just wanted to forget about it. He just wanted to stop feeling like something horrible was still coming to get him; like he couldn't breathe. He wanted to pretend that it had never happened. He used to be good at that back at the Dursleys. He knew it was too much to think that Hermione would just drop it though.

"He didn't do anything," Harry said again. "I did, okay? Can we not talk about this at breakfast?"

"Don't go blaming yourself if someone's mistreating you," Hermione said.

"I'm getting a head start," Harry said. "It always takes forever to get to Runes. I'll see you in class."

The 'I'm going alone,' was left unsaid. He could hear Ron and Hermione talking anxiously behind him as he walked away with his head ducked down.

"Harry," he heard as he neared the end of the table, and his heart skipped a beat.

"O-oh," Harry said, looking up to see that Benjamin was standing in front of him. "Hey Benjamin. Look, I'm really…"

"No, I'm sorry," Benjamin said awkwardly. "I wasn't paying attention; I didn't realize something was wrong. I probably should have canceled after the dementor thing. They can mess with you for a bit after they're gone, I guess."

"Yeah," Harry said, almost relieved. "The dementors. I should have thought of that too, you know. I guess… Yeah, after the quidditch match, I just wanted to pretend like… But yeah, probably should have done a rain check."

"Right," Benjamin said. "So I'll see you Thursday then. Have fun in class."

"Yeah, you too," Harry said, relieved to have the conversation be over. Relieved that there was an excuse.

Harry started his ascent of the castle.

Had it really been the dementors, though? They made him pass out and they left him with dredged up memories he'd rather leave buried, but he didn't think they left him feeling like everyone else did. Everyone else seemed to feel the effects long after the dementor had gone, like the dementor was still not too far off, but not Harry. He hadn't felt it after the dementor left on the train, not like Ron and Hermione obviously had. He wanted it to be the reason though. He wanted to believe that absent the dementors it would never have happened, and that absent dementors it would never happen again. How could he ever face a threat like Greyback again if he couldn't even train without freaking out.

He was the first student to arrive in the Runes classroom. Professor Babbling didn't notice as she was writing pictograms up on the chalk board. Harry took a seat in the back corner and shut his eyes for the first time since he had woken up the day before.

He didn't know if it was the warmth of the classroom, or the steady scritch scratch of the chalk on the chalk board, or if it was simply that he hadn't slept the night before, but Harry found himself finally relaxing. He felt the tension ebbing away and he had just about drifted off in his seat when the door to the classroom banged open and students started walking in. Hermione was seated next to him quickly, shooting him a worried glance, but she didn't say anything as the other students filled in around them.

When Harry was able to keep his eyes open during the class, he thought to himself that this was perhaps the first time that Hermione had failed to pay attention in class. She kept looking over at him and chewed at her bottom lip. Harry felt bad for worrying her.

When class ended, Harry stayed in his seat while the other students filed out, partly because he felt entirely too unmotivated to get up and partly because he wanted to talk to Hermione alone. When the classroom was empty besides themselves and Professor Babbling, Harry pushed himself up and made his way to the door.

"Look," Harry said tiredly when they were in the hallway. "I'll tell you what happened when we catch up with Ron. It really isn't what you think."

"Really?" Hermione asked.

"Well, yeah," Harry said.

"Are you alright?" Hermione asked.

"Yeah, I guess," Harry said with a shrug.

They caught up with Ron who had just had a free period. Harry had no free periods while Hermione… Harry wasn't sure how Hermione was managing her class schedule or where she found the time, but she was taking one more class than Harry was, and keeping Harry and Ron on top of their studies as well.

"How're you doing?" Ron asked.

"Alright," Harry said nervously. "Look, so, yesterday, I guess I wasn't as over the dementor as I thought and, well, when we were doing defense stuff I sort of felt like I was… like it was back when Greyback had me pinned and I sort of, like, freaked out. Like I really really freaked out."

"Oh, Harry," Hermione said. "Why didn't you just say so?"

Harry shrugged. "I guess I felt bad for not being able to handle it."

"Don't worry about it mate," Ron said, clapping him on the back. "You've handled plenty worse. Don't feel bad if a dementor's got you off your game."

"So it wasn't anything he did?" Hermione asked.

"No," Harry said. "He was great. It wasn't his fault."

"Well alright then," Hermione said, though she still looked worried. "Well you must not have eaten enough chocolate, I think. Here."

Hermione handed him a bar of chocolate. Like many students, she had taken to keeping a bit of chocolate in her schoolbag.

"Honestly," Hermione said. "If my parents knew how much chocolate I've been eating this year…"

"Really Hermione," Ron said. "Mass murderers and dementors, and it's the chocolate your parents'll be upset about."

"Well there's no need for them to find out about any of that," Hermione said. "But if I come home for the holidays and they don't think I've been taking care of my teeth they'll be upset to say the least. I should probably get a dental check-up from Madam Pomfrey before I go home for Christmas."

"So you're alright now though, right?" Ron asked Harry.

Harry really wasn't.

"Yeah," Harry said. "Just, really tired, I didn't sleep well last night." Or at all really.

This would be the defining theme of the day, which turned into a series of small disasters as he drowsily made his way through classes. Mondays were so exhausting with so many classes crammed in together. The last class of the day was of course double potions and Harry managed to fumble his potion rather spectacularly, receiving extra homework from Professor Snape. It didn't help that it was extra awkward to be in the room with the man now that he had sort of officially decided to probably tell the man that Harry was his son.


IIIIIIIIIIIII


"Chocolate Frogs," Harry hazarded. Nothing happened.

"Fizzing Whizbees," he tried. Still nothing. He was probably wasting his time. There were better ways to spend a Tuesday evening than trying to guess the headmaster's password. Namely, catching up on Monday's homework.

"Acid Pops; Mars Bars; Berti Bots Every Flavor Beans; Lemon Drops… Um: Cauldron Cakes, Goobers, Laughy Taffy, Everlasting Gobstoppers…"

There was the rumble of moving stone and the gargoyle in front of him started corkscrewing upwards to reveal a spiral staircase.

Was there a delay there, Harry wondered, or was the password to the headmaster's office really Everlasting Gobstoppers?

Harry hopped onto the rotating stairs to the headmaster's tower office and waited anxiously for the stair to get to the top. Reaching the end of his journey, Harry raised his hand to knock on the door before him but it opened of it's own accord as the Headmaster Dumbledore said, "Come in Harry."

"Good evening, Professor," Harry said as he stepped into the office, lingering by the door.

"Good evening to you, do have a seat," the headmaster said gesturing to one of the high-backed winged chairs that sat opposite himself.

Harry hesitantly took the seat, feeling rather dwarfed by it. He didn't really know how to start this conversation, so what came out was, "I'm sorry to bother you after dinner like this professor."

"Nonsense," the headmaster said. "There is no bother. Tea?"

Harry realized that there was a tea service upon the headmaster's desk that he was certain had not been there a moment ago.

"Oh, you don't need to bother," Harry said.

"Why Mr. Potter," the headmaster said. "If pouring tea was a bother, I don't expect it would be as popular as it is."

"Right," Harry said awkwardly. "Alright then."

The headmaster poured Harry's tea as Harry watched before pouring his own while Harry glanced around the office at the myriad of unique devices, sleeping portraits of headmasters and headmistresses of old, and bookshelves that reached the ceiling that were likely filled with books that one could not check out of the Hogwarts library. Harry was disappointed to see that Fawkes was not on his perch.

"Lemon drop?" the headmaster inquired, breaking Harry from his perusal with a tin of yellow confections held out in front of him.

"Oh, no, thank you," Harry said as he picked up the teacup in front of him.

The headmaster plucked one of the hard candies from the tin and placed it in his mouth before taking a sip of his tea.

"How have you been enjoying your classes, Harry?" the headmaster asked, starting the conversation. "I understand Professor McGonagall had to rearrange your timetable." Somehow, he didn't sound at all like he was speaking around the sour candy in his mouth.

"Oh, yes," Harry said. "They're going well. I had to catch up a bit, but I've had a lot of help, Professor."

"And you are doing a project as well," Professor Dumbledore said. "You are doing yourself and your House proud."

"Thanks professor," Harry said, though he didn't know how well he had been personifying Gryffindor House lately. "Um, I came here to ask you a question."

"Indeed," the headmaster said. "I should take it that this is a very serious question, Mr. Potter?"

"Oh, I wouldn't bother you if it wasn't," Harry said.

"Nonsense, my boy, you may certainly bring less serious questions to me whenever you like," the headmaster replied kindly. "I was merely wondering if I should impart upon you the same warning that I gave you at the end of your first year."

"That the truth is a great and terrible thing, or that you may not answer but you also won't lie," Harry asked.

"I suppose both may apply to this conversation," the Headmaster said knowingly, and Harry could almost think in that moment that the headmaster did in fact know what Harry was going to ask and why, but that, of course, would be preposterous.

"Well, the thing is professor, I wanted to talk about Professor Snape. You see…" Harry sank one of his canines into his bottom lip for a moment before he pushed on. "You've always trusted him to protect me. I mean this summer you had him guarding me every day for weeks. It's just that… well you see I know, or I have a good reason to believe that he worked for Voldemort back when and I want to be able to trust him, and I think I do, and he's saved my life a bunch, but how can I, if I know… I just need to be sure I'm not crazy to trust him."

The headmaster was silent for a moment, and Harry very strongly suspected that he had crossed a boundary; though the headmaster did not look upset.

"I do not know that I can answer this question to your satisfaction Mr. Potter," the headmaster said at last. "I am sure that you can infer that I do in fact trust Professor Snape myself, and most importantly, that I have entrusted your safety to him. I'm afraid the most I can say is that I do trust Professor Snape. I trust him implicitly, and I do believe that if you knew him as I know him, that you would trust him the same."

Though truly he had gained no new information, the headmaster's words did prove to be reassuring to Harry. He frowned at his tea as he processed everything.

"I am curious to know what led you to have such certainty of which side Professor Snape was on during the war," the headmaster said.

"I got a letter, sir," Harry said. "Over the Summer. My parents had set it to be delivered when I turned thirteen. It mentioned the war, and a few people who were involved."

"Indeed," the headmaster said. "Yet in spite of these words from your parents, you found yourself able to trust Professor Snape to such an extent."

Harry shrugged.

"Mr. Potter," the headmaster said and paused until Harry looked up to the headmaster's piercing gaze. "Were there any other important matters in this letter that we should perhaps discuss?"

"Oh nothing like that Professor," Harry said in a rush. "It mostly wasn't about the war. It was about… family stuff. They talked a lot about their time at school and about being married and having me." Harry turned his gaze to his lap before returning it to his tea.

"Well then," the headmaster said as an air of great seriousness lifted from the room. "If that is settled, then perhaps while I have you here you would like to tell me about this project of yours. I have been hearing good things from your professors."


IIIIIIIIIIIII


The avuncular manner that Albus had taken on slipped as Harry left his office and he started crunching on what remained of the lemon drop in his mouth.

Severus was Harry's father.

A great deal had been made clear, but the path ahead was all the more muddled. He had to ask himself; if he had known this was coming, would he have prevented it? Would he have intercepted that letter and removed the relevant text? The answer did not take long to come to him. Of course he would have. He would always have chosen to prevent the blindness that now mired the future. What was one more sin to tally? He had done so much worse to safeguard peace. Yet he did not have that option now.

Outside of Hogwarts, everything moved as it was supposed to. Every event happened as Albus knew it would, every interaction with the Minister was scripted, every letter he received. Inside the castle however, events spiraled more and more into realms he could not predict, and he was working harder and harder to keep things on the right path in spite of events he couldn't affect. Before long, the chaos within the castle would spill out. How long did he have before he could no longer predict the future?

Yet this was good. At least now he knew what had caused the change in Harry. More information could only make it easier to predict and affect change and stability. It was fortunate that the next step was one he found pleasant. He had been guiding Harry and Severus towards an amicable working relationship. It would be best if Albus could make sure the next part of Harry's plan went well.


IIIIIIIIIIII


"Hey Potter," Harry heard from one of the classrooms he was passing in the hall. He looked up and blushed to see Cedric Diggory flagging him down from the middle of what looked like some manner of school club gathering. The older boy got up and headed for the door and Harry waited.

Harry hoped that this would somehow be about something other than the quidditch match. He had heard far too much from his team mates and other Gryffindors about how they didn't blame him for the loss and he rather didn't want to hear the Hufflepuff version of platitudes.

"Hey, um, Diggory," Harry said, not sure how to handle the conversation.

"I just wanted…" Diggory started. "Sorry, about the match. If I'd realized…"

"Yeah," Harry said. "They said you'd tried to void the win. It's quidditch though, you know how it is."

"Dementors aren't exactly covered in the rule book," Cedric said. "It wasn't exactly fair."

"Yeah, well, it wouldn't exactly have been fair if I had won just 'cause I had the faster broom," Harry said with a shrug.

"Thinking about downgrading?" Diggory asked.

"Oh no thank you," Harry said. "But you know; just think of it from my point of view. I shouldn't have won my first match, or at least not like that. The snitch basically flew into my mouth. If I get to call that a win then you can call Sunday a win."

"I seem to recall the fact that you probably wouldn't have won at all if you hadn't kept on your bucking broom. That was some serious riding and speaking as a bloke I'm not sure how you managed," Diggory said.

"It was rather uncomfortable," Harry admitted. Brooms were poorly designed for male flyers, no matter the cushioning charm.

"Well you're a good flyer," Diggory said. "I wish I could see who would win in a fair match."

"We'll see next year I suppose," Harry said.

"Why not sooner?" Diggory asked

"They're really not going to void the match," Harry said.

"So?" Diggory asked. "Let's have a seekers match. Don't you get bored just playing against the snitch in practice? Just three thrilling chases a year? If we're lucky."

"It still wouldn't be fair though," Harry said. "Your Comet's a great broom, but it can't beat my Nimbus."

"Didn't stop you beating Malfoy last year," Cedric said. "Besides, if you want things fair then we can have two matches and trade brooms in between."

"Are you sure you don't just want some good practice before your match against Ravenclaw?" Harry asked.

"Don't you?" Diggory asked.

Harry smiled. "I suppose."

"Great, we'll work it out later," Diggory said, holding out his hand. "I’ve got to get back."

Harry shook Cedric's hand and the older boy returned to the classroom.


IIIIIIIIIIIIIII


After a little trial and error, Harry found that it was easier to dive through walls with his hands at a point over his head. It was best however to make sure each particular wall was passable though. He had the bruises to show that that had been a hard-learned lesson. Until he had a better idea of which walls were safe and which weren't, he found himself being very cautious before passing through a wall. Most walls weren't warded though and getting through the castle had become a lot more interesting, though not necessarily faster. The castle defied the laws of physics in many ways and walking through certain walls did not always lead where one would logically expect. He had once gone through a wall on the second floor only to find himself walking into the dungeon on the other side. Though he was building a mental map of shortcuts.

He turned a few heads as he appeared in the main second floor hallway, but since he was coming from one wall and then walking through the next, no one had time to stop him to ask about the trick. Harry wondered if the twins wanted him drumming up excitement for the product. He dove through another wall and had to take a moment to judge where he was in the castle. Was he in a tower?

In this fashion, Harry arrived at the Thursday defense study group quite a bit earlier than he normally did. Anna and Benjamin probably weren't even in the classroom yet and they were usually the first to arrive. The thought of waiting with them, just them, for the rest of the students made Harry uneasy. Benjamin had acted like nothing was wrong, but he was a nice bloke like that. Harry wondered if he had told Anna. He considered taking a walk, and learning more about the castle, but that wouldn't be very Gryffindor, would it. Harry walked into the classroom only to find that it wasn't empty.

"Ah, good evening," Professor Lupin said. "You're a bit early aren't you, Mr. Potter?"

Harry stood still in the doorway; he also hadn't planned to wait for the start of the study group alone with the professor.

"Oh, good evening professor." Harry said. He noticed the stack of parchment in front of Professor Lupin. "I didn't realize you'd be here; I won't interrupt your grading."

"Ah, well, consider me interrupted," Professor Lupin said with a kind smile. "The study group will start soon enough anyways. Come in, Mr. Potter, I've wanted to ask you how you are doing with the advanced course work."

"Oh it's going well enough, professor," Harry said as he stepped into the classroom and stood by one of the desks. "The spells aren't too difficult. I'm just trying to become a bit faster. I spend too much time focusing on the incantations and movements."

"Have you tried using your toothbrush?" Professor Lupin asked.

Harry's hand went to his mouth. He wasn't even standing that close to the man.

Professor Lupin laughed.

"Not that," he said. "For practice, as a stand in for your wand. You can practice over and over again without exerting yourself, anything vaguely wand like will do. I used my toothbrush when I was your age."

"Oh, no I haven't tried that," Harry said. "There are only so many stunners I can cast before I have to stop."

"It is good to get to that point of course," Professor Lupin said. "Magic isn't exactly like a muscle, per se, but working out your magic does help train you to channel more magic down the line. Now, I've been wondering if you'll want to take the fourth year exam come June."

"What for?" Harry asked.

"To skip it of course," Professor Lupin said.

"I can do that?" Harry asked surprised.

"Well it would be up to whoever is teaching defense next year," Professor Lupin said. "But you have effectively been learning both years curriculums thus far. I would see no need for you to repeat the fourth-year curriculum next year as long as you show competence."

"You aren't even planning on being here next year?" Harry asked, disappointed in spite of himself. He had heard enough to know that the loss of the past two defense teachers hadn't been a fluke.

"I think it's best not to tempt fate," Professor Lupin said.

"It's a shame," Harry said. "We didn't learn half as much with our previous defense professors. It would have been nice to have you back next year."

"Perhaps you'll luck out," Professor Lupin said. "I bandied a few names with the headmaster. There's some good candidates out there, if he can get them to take the job."

"Hm," Harry said. "Well I guess we'll have to wait and see."

"And the exam?" Professor Lupin asked.

"Oh, I suppose I should take it," Harry said reluctantly. He wasn't fond of the idea of having a class without Ron or Hermione. Would he even be with the Gryffindor fifth years, or would he be put in with whatever fifth year class overlapped one of his free periods.

"Well if you want to focus on being able to defend yourself, it really is the best course to take," Professor Lupin said.

"That's the plan," said Harry. "Next time someone tries to get me, I'll have a surprise for them."

"I must warn you," Professor Lupin said. "Fenrir Greyback has rarely been known to be taken by surprise, or to be much phased by it when he is."

"Do you know a lot about him, then?" Harry asked.

"Oh, I've made something of a study of him," Professor Lupin said.

"Then do you know what his thing with Sirius Black was? Or why he killed him?" Harry winced a moment later at the pained look on the professor's face. He hadn't even thought to be delicate. The letter had told him enough to know that Professor Lupin had probably been close friends with Sirius Black.

Professor Lupin opened his mouth to answer but Anna and Benjamin walked in at that moment. Whatever he had been about to say turned into, "We can discuss that another time." He turned his attention to the new arrivals and soon was talking to Anna about a fourth-year class project.

Benjamin walked up to Harry with a smile and Harry did his best not to look like he was still embarrassed about the previous Sunday.

"Good week so far?" Benjamin asked by way of small talk.

"Yeah," Harry said. "You?"

"I managed to blow up the potions classroom," Benjamin said. "I'm counting that as a detractor, though some have tried to convince me it's an accomplishment."

"That would be the twins I'm guessing," Harry said with a smile. "I heard about that. How long did it take to clean up?"

"Only my entire evening without magic," Benjamin said with a wan smile.

Harry grimaced sympathetically. Not for the first time he wondered: if he did tell Professor Snape, would everyone else find out? It wouldn't exactly do to say, 'Hey you're my dad, can we treat this like it's a deep dark dirty secret?' But the peculiar circumstances of his birth were a private matter and everyone finding out would raise a ton of questions. He really didn't like the idea of people thinking his mum had cheated and it was either that or explain every last detail… he might as well take out a full page add in the Daily Prophet.

That he didn't want students giving him grief whenever they got a nasty detention from Professor Snape was also perhaps a factor. If Saturday did somehow go well, there'd be a host of new things to worry about.

"So do you want to practice some wrist locks," Benjamin asked, with none of the trepidation that Harry suddenly felt at the idea of practicing physical self-defense.

"S-sure," Harry said almost immediately, because there was no way he was going to let being afraid of what had happened on Sunday stop him from making sure that no one could grab him like that ever again. That he would never be helpless again. That he would never have to wonder if he could have done something to stop it. That he would never have to look back and think, 'if only.' If he could only keep it together in the here and now.

"Just wrist locks?" he found himself asking and cursed his fear.

"I don't think we'll have time for much more before everyone else gets here," Benjamin said. "We can do a lot more if you want to meet again this Sunday."

"Oh, yeah," Harry said, keeping the nervousness locked down. "Same time?"

"Sure," Benjamin said. "Now, let's say I reach out to grab your collar…"

Harry felt approaching dread the entire time they practiced, until the other students arrived. He didn't know if it was the same dread he had felt that Sunday or if it was worries about what had happened happening again. He kept it at bay though; maybe it had just been the dementor.


IIIIIIIIIIIIIII


"You wished to speak with me, Headmaster?" Severus asked.

"I did Severus," the headmaster replied. "Please have a seat."

Severus enjoyed his weekly tea with the headmaster, but he did rather wish that the man would just get to the point when he summoned him out of the blue. Still though, he waited until the tea was poured and he could refuse the usual offer of a lemon drop.

"Harry came to see me the other day," the headmaster said when they had both taken a sip of their tea. "I do believe that all of your questions shall be answered by the end of this week."

"Oh the mystery may be solved headmaster, but I do not think I shall ever understand the boy," Severus said. "He told you what he has been up to?"

"Not quite," the headmaster said.

"And you disapprove when I have had the need to use Legilimency on students," Severus said.

"Where Harry is concerned, not knowing what is going on in his head makes it very difficult to make sure that it stays on his shoulders," the headmaster said. "Besides, when a student comes in and tells you that he knows for a fact that one of his teachers was a Death Eater and wishes to be assured that he can trust him, one must take every precaution."

"He told you that?" Severus said aghast.

"Not in so many words, no," the headmaster said. "You will understand his position soon enough. It will seem very reasonable when you do."

"The gall," Severus said.

"Yes, it does remind me of someone," the headmaster said with a smile.

"His father," Severus said, and if anything the headmaster's smile widened.

"As I said, it will seem very reasonable," the headmaster assured him.

"But how would he even know?" Severus asked. "The letter?"

The headmaster nodded.

"But then why would he…" Severus pondered before breaking off in complete confusion.

"He did say that he does trust you," the headmaster said. "He wished to have my assurance that he was not unreasonable to have such faith. All shall become clear when he tells you."

"You could tell me now," Severus said.

"Ah, but that would spoil the surprise," the headmaster said.

"I do not like surprises, headmaster" Severus said testily.

"Ah, but it is simply not my place to tell," the headmaster sighed forlorn, as if he truly did wish to tell Severus but was bound by propriety to keep silent. The twitch of his lip gave him away.

"Of course, it is one thing to read a student's mind, but spoiling his surprise is beyond the pale," Severus said being as droll as possible.

"I'm glad you see this as I do," the headmaster said.

Severus sighed. He wanted to storm out to show his displeasure but… it really was good tea and it would be rude to leave before it was finished.

"There is one thing Severus," the Headmaster said.

Severus looked up, for though there was still mirth in the headmaster's eyes, there was definitely a more serious note to his voice.

"What Harry has to tell you will seem impossible at first," the headmaster said. "You may be inclined to believe that he is lying or misinformed. He is not, I have already taken it upon myself to verify the matter. I believe it is important for the both of you that you know that now."

Severus was certain now that whatever the matter was, that it was very serious and that whatever it was, it would probably cause him several headaches. He sipped on his tea pensively. By the end of the week, the headmaster had said. That left Friday and Saturday. Though since he would be seeing the boy for his first time as a lab assistant on Saturday, Severus supposed that it would be Saturday. That left him until then to figure out whatever mess he was about to find himself in. He rather did not like surprises.


IIIIIIIIIIII


'Muggle Military Explosive's Storehouse Immolated, Beckett Dead By His Own Flames,' the front page of the daily prophet proclaimed Friday morning.

The students in the Great Hall were carrying on as though a holiday had just been declared, but absent from the article, and seemingly absent most everyone's minds was the fact that there were probably a great many people dead in that fire besides Beckett. Those people would of course be muggles and hardly worth mentioning in a wizarding newspaper. Even when a muggle woman died saving the blasted boy-who-lived. As usual, the muggles were being dismissed, but Harry wondered if the writer or the editor at the Daily Prophet understood muggle explosives. He was pretty sure Beckett didn't, because if he had, he would have known that setting fire to what was likely a place to store missiles or bombs with fiendfyre was not a good idea. Explosions move much faster than fiendfyre, and Beckett had likely been unable to apparate away before everything in the area had been leveled. Yes, a good many muggle soldiers had probably died in that.

Harry handed the paper back to Hermione who started re-reading the article.

"Well at least it's one less thing to worry about," Ron said, with much less levity than the students around the hall had. Harry didn't know if Ron had read the same deaths between the lines of the article, or if he was simply picking up on Harry's mood.

"Yeah," Harry said. "There's that. It's fitting I guess."

Harry had just turned back to his breakfast when a small origami swan flew up and landed in front of him. He looked around to see who had sent it, but no one was looking at him.

"There's writing," Ron said.

Harry looked back and saw that indeed there was writing curling around one of the wings. He set about unfolding the parchment and read the short note.

See me in my office before the start of classes today.

-McGonagall

Harry looked up to the head table to find that Professor's McGonagall, Snape, and Dumbledore were absent. There wasn't much point in keeping them waiting. Grabbing a scone, he got up.

"I've got to go see Professor McGonagall," Harry said.

"Don't be late for class," Hermione said. "If you're telling him tomorrow, you don't want it to be right after you get in trouble for being late for potions."

"I'm sure McGonagall'll give me a note if I need one," Harry said as he left. Besides, he had a feeling that Professor Snape would be there as well.

Professor McGonagall's office was relatively close to the Great Hall and Harry, only halfway done with his scone, wound up putting what was left of his pastry in his pocket for lack of a better place for it. The door was ajar and Harry knocked as he stuck his head in.

"Professor?" he asked. He could see the three missing professors standing in front of Professor McGonagall's desk with a woman he did not recognize; it looked like they had been arguing.

"Come in, Mr. Potter," Professor McGonagall said. "I take it you saw the news."

"I did, professor," Harry said, standing just inside the doorway. "Though I'm not sure why you would want to see me about it."

"As tragic as recent events have been, Harry, we have been presented with an opportunity and time may be of the essence," the Headmaster said. "This is Madame Bones, the head of Magical Law Enforcement, she is here because we hope to soon capture Fenrir Greyback.

"And you want my help?" Harry asked, not at all sure where this was going, but he was very excited at the prospect of Greyback going back to prison.

"Very indirectly," Professor Snape said. "But yes."

"We will be announcing over lunch that since there is no longer a threat from Beckett, we will be allowing a Hogsmeade visit for all students who have their permission slips signed," Professor McGonagall said.

"We will be letting the villagers know to expect students this Sunday," Professor Snape said. "If Greyback gets word, he will hopefully realize that this is his best opportunity to grab you."

Harry swallowed and looked at Professor Snape with almost a feeling of betrayal.

"You want to use me as bait?" he asked before taking a deep breath. "I can do that, I think. I still have that anti-portkey necklace, and I still wear it everyday." Harry tugged on the chain around his neck. He could do it, he thought. If it meant justice for Ms. Adler.

"Phaw!" Professor McGonagall exclaimed. "We will be doing no such thing Mr. Potter. You will be safely inside the castle. You will of course have a doppelgänger who will keep to himself and favor the outskirts of the town."

"Oh," Harry said uneasily. "Polyjuice then?"

"Indeed," Professor Snape said.

"Who'll impersonate me, Professor?" Harry asked.

Professor Snape merely raised a single eyebrow.

"You?" Harry asked.

"Who better, Mr. Potter?" Professor Snape asked. "I spent a great deal of my summer around you, and for precisely the reason that I could handle matters should Greyback attack."

"What if he hurts you though?" Harry asked, and now both of Professor Snape's eyebrows rose.

"That is my concern, Mr. Potter, and not yours," Professor Snape said sternly.

"But if he's trying to get me…" Harry said.

"Then that will be his mistake," Professor Snape said darkly.

"What if he hurts the other students?" Harry asked, liking the idea less and less as he had time to think about it.

"There will be a staged spat between yourself and Mr. Weasley as you arrive in the village, after which you will skulk around the edges of the town," Professor Snape said. "It may be too transparent, but we are not willing to shoulder more risk."

Harry really didn't like this plan. Greyback was vindictive and cruel and fully capable of quickly murdering people.

"Shouldn't an Auror be doing this, though?" Harry asked. "I mean it's not that you aren't capable sir, but…"

"There will be Aurors, Mr. Potter," Madame Bones said, speaking up for the first time. "Your professor will not be handling this matter on his own. If all goes to plan, he won't even need to raise his wand. It has been agreed that due to his experience with yourself, that he will be able to passably imitate your mannerisms. With luck we'll have drawn Greyback out before he can even get close."

Though she spoke in favor of the plan, Harry got the impression she didn't like it, or perhaps she didn't like Snape's role in it.

"Do you need me to do anything?" Harry asked. "I mean besides giving you some hair."

"Merely go about today and tomorrow as though you are excited to go to Hogsmeade," the headmaster said. "Should anyone express surprise that you are allowed to go, you may tell them that you have your anti-portkey necklace and that you have agreed to stay where it is busy."

"Do you think he can get information from inside the school, sir?" Harry asked, thinking of certain students.

"No," the headmaster reassured. "But it is best to be cautious none the less. Sunday morning, you will get into the carriage to town with your friends. You will have a portkey beacon that will be delivered to you by owl post that morning. The beacon will allow Professor Snape to portkey directly into your carriage. You will then portkey out and arrive safely in my office."

Harry nodded as he processed the plan.

"Unless there is anything else," Professor McGonagall said. "Some of us have classes to be attending to."

"That should be all," the headmaster said. "Do you have any questions, Harry?"

"Yeah," Harry said. "What should I tell my friends?"

"Nothing for now Mr. Potter," the headmaster said. "They will be told when they leave for the village during the carriage ride. Now, I do believe that if you leave now, you and Professor Snape can arrive to your first class without being too late."

Harry soon found himself walking the mostly empty halls with Professor Snape.

For the first time in a while, Harry found himself in an awkward silence around the man and wished he could escape using his gloves. He could probably get to the potions classroom before the bell if he did.

"I care little if you believe me capable Mr. Potter," Professor Snape said. "But whatever doubts you do have, you must burry them. You wear your heart on your sleeve and it is best that none of your worry is apparent."

"I don't doubt you professor," Harry said. "You've saved me too many times for that. I'm just worried; I've seen what he does to people."

"A number of people will have failed at their jobs if he gets that close to me," Professor Snape said.

"Yeah, well he got pretty close to me in Diagon Alley sir," Harry said. "And enough people have died in my place if you ask me, so I don't need that on my head again."

"Death is not a line you are waiting in, Mr. Potter," Professor Snape said tersely. "You do not have a ticket with a time and date that someone can take for you. That they died while you were in danger does not mean that you were supposed to have died then."

"Yeah, well they still died trying to save me!" Harry said. "Maybe I wasn't supposed to die, but they shouldn't have died so that I wouldn't."

"Life doesn't work on 'should,' Mr. Potter," Professor Snape said, and now he sounded tired.

"Yeah, well it should," Harry said petulantly, not caring for the first time in a long time how he came off to the man. Professor Snape ignored the comment.

"So you would prefer it be an Auror he got close to?" Professor Snape asked.

"It's not like that," Harry said. "It's just… um, well it's different."

"Different how?" Professor Snape said.

"Well I like you," Harry said before blushing and looking down. "I mean, maybe that's selfish, but I guess I'll worry more about you than someone I… don't know."

Professor Snape didn't speak for a moment and Harry snuck a glance up at him. The man did not speak for a moment.

"I was not aware that I had given you reason to like me," Professor Snape said.

Harry shrugged.

"You don't need to give me reasons," Harry said.

"And yet you have them," Professor Snape said.

Harry shrugged again, he supposed that the professor was about as willing to directly ask his questions as Harry was to answer them.

"Your mother was my best friend when I was your age," Professor Snape said, perhaps too casually. Harry looked up at him in surprise. "Though I suppose you already had an inkling of that from the letter you mentioned. I have been surprised of late to realize that you share some of her better qualities."

Harry found his breath catching and suddenly found his shoes very interesting. For a brief moment, he could hope that everything would go well on Saturday.

"Though I must say she had considerably more common sense when she was your age," Professor Snape continued. The moment was broken.

"Hey," Harry said.

"Did you not just say that you would act as bait for Fenrir Greyback?" Professor Snape asked.

"You actually are acting as bait for him Professor," Harry said indignantly.

"I am a fully trained wizard who is more than capable, and an adult," Professor Snape said. "You clearly did not want to do it, but you said that you would. Why?"

"He needs to be stopped," Harry said. "He's hurt too many people."

"But why you?" Professor Snape asked.

"Because he's coming after me," Harry said insistently.

"That is a very good reason to stay far away from him," Professor Snape said.

"Well what does that make me if he hurts someone else trying to get to me?" Harry asked heatedly.

"It doesn't make you anything," Professor Snape said. "It makes him what he is, a monster. You are not responsible for stopping him."

"Yes I am," Harry said. "It's my fault."

"What drivel is this?" Professor Snape asked.

"Nothing," Harry said, not looking at the man.

"The first two years of you schooling may have given you the impression that you are the hero of some story, but I can assure you that when it comes to Greyback, your only responsibility is to stay safe from him, and follow the plan that we have laid out," Professor Snape said.

"But I…"

Professor Snape cut him off.

"But nothing," he said. "Now with luck he will be dealt with this Sunday, but even if he is not, I need to know that you will not try to run after him."

"Why does everyone think I have a death wish?" Harry asked.

"I could go on ad nauseam," Professor Snape said.

"I'm not just going to go looking for him, Professor" Harry said. "I know how that'd go."

"See that you keep it in mind," Professor Snape said as they arrived at the potions classroom.

Harry had no trouble doing just that. He had a hard time concentrating in potions again that day.


IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII


Everyone was in high spirits after the announcement over lunch, and Harry was doing his best to play his part. It was hard though, as worried as he was. Charms and Defense Against the Dark Arts went well and when the bell rang Harry was ready to go to the library to get a head start on some homework to keep up the facade of a student who fully expected to spend his Sunday in Hogsmeade when he was interrupted.

"A word, Mr. Potter," Professor Lupin said. "Or two, if you will."

Harry told his friends he'd catch up with them in the library as he made his way to the front of the classroom. He eyed the door as the classroom emptied quickly and they were soon alone.

"I thought, Mr. Potter," Professor Lupin said with a sad smile. "That you might like to finish our conversation from yesterday evening."

"Oh," Harry said as he remembered the pained look in the professors eyes the night prior. "I shouldn't have asked like that. I understand if you don't want to talk about Mr. Black."

Professor Lupin looked at him with surprise.

"I know you were friends," Harry said. "You were both mentioned in a letter I have that my parents wrote."

"I hadn't known if I should bring it up," Professor Lupin said. "If it was still my place to be a family friend."

Harry shrugged. He didn't know Professor Lupin outside of the classroom. He figured he probably felt as conflicted as the professor was on the topic. He was a stranger, but, he had also been a friend to his dad. A very close friend, he could tell from the letter, but what was that now?

"I didn't know either," Harry said. "It was rude of me to ask."

"No," Professor Lupin assured. "You should know. Sirius was your family, your godfather. Did you know?"

Harry nodded.

"You have a right to know what happened," Professor Lupin said very seriously. "I could tell you now if you'd like."

"Alright then," Harry said with a feeling that he was getting a lot more than he had initially asked for.

"Here," Professor Lupin said, pulling out his wand. "Let's have a seat."

Two of the desks from the front of the classroom floated up and transformed into much more comfortable chairs. Harry sat down across from his professor.

"I suppose I should start out by telling you that Sirius was about as excited when you were born as your father was," Professor Lupin started out. "He doted on you constantly; we all did I suppose, but he took being your godfather very seriously. We'd all had turns babysitting you, but Sirius liked to call it Godfather Time. He was your favorite, and everyone knew it."

Harry stared at his knees for a moment as he processed the information and Professor Lupin gathered his thoughts. He didn't know that he wanted more of a reason to feel bad that the man was gone, but at the same time, it was nice to think of a time when he had been wanted.

"We were over all the time," Professor Lupin said. "Even with the war, we always made time for each other. We all fought, in our own way, but even when it was all crumbling down around us, I suppose I still thought we'd all come out on the other end, even with your father and Sirius both being Aurors."

"The letter mentioned a Mr. Pettigrew," Harry said. "Is he still alive?"

"No Harry," Professor Lupin said heavily. "I hadn't planned on bringing this up, but you should know." Harry had the very large impression that he should just stop asking questions. He had once been very good at that.

"He betrayed your parents, Harry," Professor Lupin said sadly. "He betrayed us all. The night your parents died… He told Voldemort where to find them… Where to find you. He died soon after; a Death Eater cornered him after it all and blew the whole street apart to kill him. We never really knew why, as the Hit Wizards killed the man trying to bring him in. I've always supposed he blamed Peter for what happened to their master."

Harry felt a hollow ache in his chest. They had been betrayed. How could someone do that, how could a…

"He was their friend," Harry said flatly.

"I thought so, yes," Professor Lupin said.

Harry took a while to process it all.

"Sirius though," Professor Lupin said. "He was true to the end."

"What do you mean?" Harry asked.

"Afterwards," Professor Lupin paused. "It was still dangerous. Death Eaters were still on the loose, were still targeting you. You were sent to your Aunt and Uncle's where the Headmaster was able to erect powerful blood wards to keep you safe. Sirius worked day and night to bring in the Death Eaters. He wanted to make the world safe, so he could take you home. He wanted to raise you, but there was still so much danger out there. I doubt you've ever known, but they caught a few Death Eaters as they attempted to bypass your wards only two days after. You'll probably be interested to know that Sirius was the one who captured Beckett and Rookwood. The last person he stopped was Greyback."

"But I'd heard Greyback killed him," Harry said.

"He did," Professor Lupin said. "Sirius had always had a bit of a vendetta against Greyback, and even before the war, Sirius wanted to be the one to stop him. In the end though, all he found was Greyback's camp. The Aurors swarmed in, arrests were made, children rescued, but there was no Greyback. Greyback found Sirius, later that day. They fought… Sirius was able to subdue him, but he had already taken severe injuries. By the time the Aurors arrived…"

Harry had a hard time imagining what his life would have been like. What if his parents hadn't been betrayed? What if Sirius Black had lived? He had long ago convinced himself that such a life wasn't for him, but that didn't stop him from wondering. He'd been wondering about a lot of things lately.

"What happened to the children?" Harry asked. "Had they all been turned?"

"All but one of them had," Professor Lupin said sadly. "Some had spent a long time in captivity, some less so. Some acclimated back into society better than others. The youngest one graduated from Hogwarts last year I believe."

"Wait," Harry said, surprised. "One of my classmates last year was a werewolf?"

"Oh yes," Professor Lupin said. "With most you really can't tell. Unless you're paying close attention to the full moon. The headmaster wouldn't stop a child from getting their education."

"So they were safe then?" Harry asked.

"Safer I dare say than any student might have been in my day," Professor Lupin said. "There is a recently invented potion that allows a person to keep their mind when they have transformed, making them little more dangerous than an animimagus."

"So no one knew?" Harry asked.

"Only the ones who needed to know," Professor Lupin said. "There was no need to start a moral panic among the parents or the school board."

Harry could have imagined Mr. Malfoy's reaction.

"What would my parents have done if Greyback had gotten me?" Harry asked.

"They would have razed heaven and earth to get you back," Professor Lupin said rather simply.

"Yeah, but what if I had been bitten?" Harry asked. "There are people who hate werewolves just for being werewolves."

"Your parents weren't those sorts of people," Professor Lupin said smiling sadly. "I can assure you of that."

"The hat wanted to put me in Slytherin," Harry said.

"Did it really?" Professor Lupin asked, not seeming to mind the change in subject.

Harry nodded. "I asked it not to. I've wondered what my parents would have thought if I had been." He gave his professor a searching look.

"Ah," Professor Lupin said. "Well I suppose every parent wants their child to be in their old house, but I know they would have loved you all the same. Sirius had a hard time of things for being sorted into Gryffindor; his whole family was Slytherin, but your parents wouldn't have thought less of you. It may seem at times like the war was between Slytherins and everyone else, but I can assure you all houses were represented on both sides."

"I'd gotten the impression that my dad had a bit of a vendetta against Slytherins," Harry said.

Professor Lupin laughed. "I suppose he did. I suppose we all did way back when. But Harry, we largely grew out of that. Your father worked with many Slytherins as an Auror. I certainly can't say that the old rivalry ever truly died out, but I do know he came to respect a few of them. People change a good deal after school you know. I think if you had been sorted into Slytherin, your father would have been boasting to anyone who would listen that you were destined to be the Head of the DMLE or some such."

"What about Sirius Black?" Harry asked.

"Oh he would have teased you about it every chance he got," Professor Lupin said with a smile. "But he teased just about everyone he liked regardless. I don't think Sirius would have ever parroted his parents and treated your sorting like a betrayal. I don't think I can stress enough that Sirius adored you. I think people who didn't know him assumed he was a father; he would tell anyone who would listen about all of your milestones."

"So if I were to have written home to say I was dating a Slytherin or something?" Harry asked.

"Oh is that where this line of questioning has been heading?" Professor Lupin asked with a grin.

"Oh, no, I'm not dating anyone," Harry said pulling a face.

"Hm, well," Professor Lupin thought. "I think the best I can tell you is that your parents would have wanted you to be happy; regardless of who you were dating."

Harry thought about that for a moment.

"Any more insight I can give you?" Professor Lupin asked.

Harry wanted to ask more, but questions were telling, and he had already told enough.

"No, Professor," Harry said. "But thanks for talking to me about this stuff."

"It's no problem Harry," Professor Lupin said. "I remember them fondly, and I enjoyed sharing them with you." Professor Lupin stood up, and Harry followed suit.

"Oh, there was one thing, professor," Harry said. "I was wondering about that spell for dementors. I found it in the library, but I haven't had any luck with it."

"Ah, well it is a seventh-year spell, Harry," Professor Lupin said. "You can certainly master it, but it will take a considerable amount of work, and power."

"It's just, I can't afford to be weak like that," Harry said. "I mean, what if they attack the next quidditch match?"

"Well we can certainly work on it, Harry," Professor Lupin said. "Though it may have to wait while I work around some logistical issues. It may not be until next term, but we will work on it if you want to put the effort in."

"I do, professor," Harry said. "Thank you."

"Very well," Professor Lupin said. "I'm sure you'll probably have plenty of homework to get out of the way before your Hogsmeade weekend."

"Oh, I do," Harry said, feigning enthusiasm.

"Well then, Harry, enjoy your weekend," Professor Lupin said.

"You too professor," Harry said, making his way out of the classroom.

What would my parents have thought about what I'm going to do tomorrow, Harry wondered as he headed towards the library chewing on his bottom lip.


IIIIIIIIIIIIII


"Have you thought about what you're going to say?" Hermione asked.

"Yeah," Harry said as he stirred the potion. Only about a million times, in a million ways.

"Well I think it's going to go alright," Ron said confidently, looking up from a chess piece he was fiddling with.

That made one of them, Harry thought. Harry shrugged.

"Are you going to ask him if you can kip over for the summer?" Ron asked.

"I think he should take it one step at a time," Hermione said.

"What do I do if he gets upset?" Harry asked.

"Tell him it's his loss and get out of there," Ron said flippantly. "If he's a jerk after he finds out he's you father he'll be a jerk forever. We'll work on plan-B"

"Yeah, but he'd still know, and it would be weird," Harry said.

"Can't get worse than it was before this year," Ron said.

"But its alright now," Harry said. "This could make it worse. Maybe I should wait till it's closer to the end of the year."

"No," Hermione said. "Harry, remember, this is the testing period. You can interact with him in the safety of the school and if it's working out here it'll probably work out for the summer. You don't want to wait till the end of the year and go into everything blind do you?"

Harry sighed.

"What if he just doesn't want to be a father?" Harry asked. "Like he's alright being friendly with a student, but like… you know, he doesn't want to take one home with him. I'd be ruining his child free summer."

"How'd his child free summer go last time?" Ron asked. "He had to stalk the alley for weeks on end. This way he can stay in whichever dungeon he haunts when school's out."

"He did that for Dumbledore," Harry said. "This time he'd be doing it for me, and he wasn't exactly happy about it the last time."

"Look," Hermione said. "We all want this to go really well and for you to be happy, but the primary focus is you not being homeless and in danger this summer."

"Professor Snape isn't my only option though," Harry said.

"No," Hermione said. "But he's your best option. He can keep you safer than anyone else. Greyback got to you when you were surrounded by aurors. Professor Dumbledore asked the professor to watch you for a reason."

"There are more things to worry about than safety," Harry said in exasperation.

"Well you'll have plenty of time to worry about them while you're safe and sound," Hermione said.

"Do you really think he's going to become terrible again when he finds out he's your dad?" Ron asked.

Harry shrugged.

"Maybe not terrible," he said. "But.. I don't know."

Disappointed, disgusted, annoyed, horrified, weary, resigned; he could be any of those things besides terrible. He could think the whole thing was a laugh, a cosmic joke, and tell him to get lost. He didn't need to be terrible; he didn't need to say awful things or assign detentions and take points; Harry would know when he wasn't wanted.

Professor Snape might take him in as a duty; he might even try to be nice about it, but Harry didn't want to be an obligation or a burden. He really wished he could go back to the beginning when he had been pretending to himself that all he cared about was a safe place to stay.

"Time to add the star seeds," Hermione said.

Harry lightly spread the seeds over the potion and watched it glow.

"Alright," Ron said. "Let's pour a bit of it off and see if this thing'll say you have two dads."

A few minutes later they had their answer.


IIIIIIIIIIIII


"That's enough, Mr. Malfoy," Severus said. "Update me on your efforts."

"I've got Jugson going against McDanniels," Mr. Malfoy said proudly. "They'll both be too busy to interfere for a while."

"Did either of them see your hand in the matter?" Severus asked.

"I think McDanniels suspects something, but he's more angry with Jugson," Mr. Malfoy said.

"So you were transparent," Severus said.

"I was not," Draco Malfoy protested. "McDanniels probably just figured I was the only one with the motivation to say anything to Jugson."

"Oh, I'm sorry Mr. Malfoy," Severus said. "It was the plan that was transparent, not yourself."

"I.."

"Just because a plan will work does not mean you should execute it," Severus said. "Do not become so enamored with your good ideas that you cannot see their flaws. How are you going to correct this?"

"I could give him someone else to focus on," Draco Malfoy said.

"He is already focused on someone else," Severus said. "Do not make things overly complicated, or you will become his primary focus again."

"So what do I do?"

"At times, Mr. Malfoy, the best plan is to do nothing, wait, observe, and prepare," Severus said.

Draco Malfoy just looked frustrated at that answer.

"How is your Ravenclaw foray?" Severus asked.

"I helped Sue Li in Charms Class," Draco Malfoy said.

"Is that the most you can say for your efforts?" Severus asked.

"They all act like I'm up to something," Mr. Malfoy complained.

"You are up to something," Severus couldn't help but to point out.

"They think I'm up to something bad," Draco Malfoy said, a petulant whine creeping in.

"Perhaps this should cement in you the importance of reputation," Severus said. "Keep working, be subtle, it will take time."

Draco sighed.

"Now, Mr. Malfoy," Severus said. "For our next exercise you will convince me I should give you my last biscuit."

"Is there actually a biscuit?" Draco Malfoy asked, eyeing the professor's desk.

"No," Severus said. "This is merely an exercise."

"It's just I think these exercises would work better if I was arguing something that mattered," Draco Malfoy said. "Like I should be convincing you to vote for something you don't actually want, and if there isn't even really a biscuit I'm not sure what the point is."

"The point is that you should be able to argue anything," Severus said. "I'm sure you would delight to pretend at some political machination, but there are plenty of doldrum things that a good Slytherin must be able to debate."

"Well sure, but just for the sake of it being realistic, professor," Draco Malfoy said. "I mean there should actually be a biscuit."

Severus sighed and retrieved a tin of shortbread biscuits from his desk. He removed one biscuit and placed it on the desk.

"Well, professor," Draco Malfoy said. "It's just that it is supposed to be your last biscuit."

Severus gave a bark of a laugh that startled the boy.

"You'll have to do better than that if you want to walk out of my office with this tin Mr. Malfoy," Severus said.

There was a knock on the door and both biscuit and tin disappeared before Severus gave a curt, "come in."

Of course, of all people, it was Harry Potter who stuck his head through the door.

"It's not too early is it Professor?" Harry asked.

"It is early," Severus said. "But do come in. I'll have to familiarize you with my lab procedure before the rest of my assistants show up." He turned to Mr. Malfoy. "We will continue on Tuesday."

Draco Malfoy nodded and turned, pointedly not looking at Harry as he walked out of the classroom.

"Have you been doing your part?" Severus asked Harry when the door was once again closed.

"I have professor," Harry said. "As far as everyone else is concerned, I'm very excited to be going to Hogsmeade."

The boy made some sort of face, and Severus supposed he could imagine what the boy thought of everything.

"With any luck you will be going the next time," Severus said.

Harry shrugged.

"Perhaps I should take you the next time I run to Waldorf's for ingredients," Severus surprised himself by saying. "In disguise of course."

"Really?" Harry said with a very sincere wonder. It was ridiculous how much stock the students put into the little village.

"We shall see, Mr. Potter," Severus said. "But I do believe we were to be discussing lab procedures."


IIIIIIIIIIII


Harry had to remind himself several times that not remembering the proper lab procedure because he had not been paying attention would be a bad way to prelude what was to come later, but it was what was to come later that had him scatterbrained at the moment. He had hoped to have some time to just talk with the professor after they had talked about how the lab was run, but Harry wasn't the only student who arrived early. Faisal Khan and Arianna Leurman, the professor's only other lab assistants soon arrived, and Harry quickly found himself preparing ingredients en-mass. His hand was cramping before long and, all in all, it was a rather smelly ordeal. Arianna was brewing potion bases while Faisal took copious notes and transcribed for the professor. It wasn't all monotony though, Professor Snape had a dozen cauldrons going and periodically he would call them over to demonstrate a technique or explain a reaction. It was very much a different environment than the classroom was.

It was odd though, but the monotony was nice in a way. It gave him time to think over what he wanted to say as soon as the others left, though those thoughts were interspersed with mostly dire thoughts of what would happen next. Three long hours later it was time to clean up the lab and Harry learned a couple of charms that students in detention were not allowed to use. Arianna left pretty quickly after that, but Faisal stayed behind to go over the days results, which largely went over Harry's head.

"Later, professor," Faisal said after he had finally put his notes away.

"Indeed," Professor Snape said as he turned to Harry. "Was there something you wanted Mr. Potter?"

Harry nodded and waited for Faisal to walk out. When the door closed behind him, Harry opened up his book bag and pulled out a beaker of potion.

"I wanted to ask you to identify this potion, professor," Harry said.

"Where did you get this?" Professor Snape asked, and suddenly his wand was in his hand. "Did someone give it to you?"

"No," Harry said. "I brewed it. Or, I mean, I helped brew it."

"You brewed a potion without even knowing what it was?" Professor Snape asked, clearly outraged. "Have you any idea how dangerous that is? That could be poison, it could have turned into a toxic cloud!"

Harry had to swallow down the silence that came with a feeling of panic. "No, sir" Harry said, backpedaling internally from the professor's harsh tone. "No, I know what it is, it isn't dangerous, it's…" Why did conversations never go how he had planned them in his head. "I need to explain something to you, and the potion is part of it, but you need to know what it is first and you might not take my word for it."

Professor Snape gave him a piercing look and Harry found himself studying his shoes while he calmed himself down.

"I see," Professor Snape said after he himself had taken a deep breath, and Harry looked up to briefly see a blank expression on the professor's face before a calmer one took over. "We have certainly discussed this in class before, positively identifying a potion is not a quick task."

"It's important, sir," Harry all but mumbled, still kicking himself internally for how badly he had started the conversation.

"Then we should get to work I suppose, this shall be a learning experience for you," Professor Snape said. "Of course you realize, this would go much faster if I knew what I was identifying ahead of time."

"It's best if you don't, sir," Harry said.

"Is it indeed?" Professor Snape asked.

Harry shrugged.

"Then I hope you didn't have many plans this afternoon," Professor Snape said.

"I already told Oliver that I wouldn't be able to make practice," Harry said and Professor Snape's eyebrows rose.

"I don't suppose this is some manner of truth potion?" Professor Snape asked. "If that is what you need for your explanation then I have plenty on hand that I trust implicitly."

Harry thought for a moment and immediately rejected the idea of ever voluntarily ingesting a truth potion.

"Even if you believe I think I'm telling the truth, you probably won't actually believe what I'm saying," Harry said, it certainly wasn't going to make Professor Snape like what Harry had to say any more than he would.

"That is a bit ominous, don't you think, Mr. Potter?" Professor Snape said.

Harry just shrugged once more. It was too late to back out then, he knew, but he was having a hard time thinking this could possibly go well.

"Very well, go fetch a number three cauldron and a standard brewing kit," Professor Snape said before turning to the ingredient stores.

Professor Snape explained the process while they worked, but there were many periods of waiting and this time it was Professor Snape who was filling the silence with conversation. Before long, Harry found he had stopped worrying at his bottom lip and he became much more engaged with the professor. After a while they started discussing what Harry had been learning in Defense Against the Dark Arts which carried them up until the process was finished. Harry reminded himself several times over while they worked that Professor Snape had seemed to be tolerating him a lot better recently.

"Now Mr. Potter," Professor Snape said. "We have a list of ingredients that we know are in the potion, and we've identified as many properties as we can. I can already place this potion in the appropriate family and class, but unless you'd like to spend some time going through potions encyclopedias, perhaps we can cut to the chase."

Harry nodded and pulled a large potions book out of his bag and placed it on the counter before flipping it to a bookmarked page.

"It's the Filius Herritatum Potion," Harry said, and while up until this point the tedium of the potions work had calmed his nerves and kept his mind off of the countless scenarios, he couldn't keep a slight tremble out of his voice now that the time had come to start explaining. Once more, Harry couldn't even imagine this going well, but Professor Snape was giving him a very expectant look, and Harry knew he couldn't back down then.


IIIIIIIIIII


Severus gave Harry a very piercing look as he tried to fit the puzzle together. The potion didn't fit with any of the theories he had had. Who was the potion to be used on?

"The letter I got over the summer," Harry began to explain as he pulled out a piece of parchment and a small granite mortar. The boy was clearly nervous and was steadfastly not making eye contact. "It talked a lot about my mum and you. How you'd been together, like dated, you know. Right after you broke up she found out she was pregnant. She wanted to forgive you, but she was scared of you resenting a half-blood baby 'cause… well… you know."

Severus stopped breathing as the totality of what the boy was saying crashed down upon him. It was the truth, the headmaster had told him it would be the truth.

"She had the child?" Severus asked, his voice ragged. "She had the child in secret?"

Harry nodded, and the boy started pouring the potion into the mortar.

Severus eyed the door, half expecting a student to walk in to have their blood tested. They would be a seventh year of course, though Severus had a hard time imagining Lily putting her child up for adoption.

"There was a potion," Harry said. "To delay the pregnancy, and there was this adoption spell, so um..."

Harry pulled out his potions knife and made a small cut in the back of his hand, letting three drops of blood drip into the mortar. The potion turned a jet black. Severus drew in a sharp breath as realization struck.

The boy was looking exclusively at the potion as he picked up the mortar and poured a small portion of the potion onto the parchment. The potion roiled and rippled and was inexorably drawn into the parchment. Severus watched as the name 'Harry Potter' wrote itself out at the top of the page and then the names 'Lily Evans,' 'Severus Snape,' and 'James Potter' appeared underneath connected by lines.

There was silence in the room as more names appeared below, going back generations, but Severus did not have eyes for the parchment. He looked at Harry, who's eyes were rooted to the tabletop. He looked at his son, and could not help but think of their first interaction. It was not difficult to recall every cruel word he had ever spoken to him; easy enough to remember the pleasure he had derived from being mean to the boy. It was so easy to recall a shattered home and an infants cry on a moonless halloween night. He closed his eyes as shame consumed him.

How could he be a father, he thought bitterly. How could he be a father to this boy.

"Merlin no," he said. "I…"

What words could he say that would make this alright? How could he ever make this alright?

Severus heard the clatter of a chair and the rustling of a book bag.

"Oh, right then," Harry choked out. "Just forget it sir. I…"

Severus looked up to see Harry backing up towards the door, a wild look in his eyes. He looked like he was trying to say something but no words came out.

"Wait," Severus said. "I didn't mean…"

But Harry didn't wait. He tore open the door and ran. Severus was quick to follow. The chase ended abruptly after a flight of stairs when Harry ran right through a wall whose trick Severus could not divine.

Hitting it did not help at all.

"You have the potion?" he asked Pettigrew. It was more of a statement than a question. There should be no question. He had given the rat more than enough time. He had waited long enough.

"I… I have something better," Pettigrew said. "The boy is going to be outside the castle wards tomorrow. They're letting the students go to Hogsmeade since Beckett is dead."

"Dead." Fenrir said. That was news to him. That would mean more Aurors looking for him. Of course no one would guess that he was living in the forests around Hogwarts. That he had bypassed their own wards.

"They're letting Potter go as well?" Fenrir asked. "Or did you just assume." Would Dumbledore let the boy out of his grasp and into Fenrir's paws?

"He's told his friends they were letting him go," Pettigrew hastily assured. "He's expected to stay in the town proper, but he'll be there. He'll be surrounded by Aurors, but with even a small distraction you could grab him and portkey away."

"Be here tomorrow night," Fenrir said gruffly.

"W-what?" Pettigrew asked.

"If that boy is not in Hogsmeade," Fenrir said darkly, "I will need to give you further instructions. But Pettigrew, you should best hope the boy is there tomorrow."

"He will be," Pettigrew said.

Fenrir left.

Peter scurried back to the castle, keeping to the taller grassy areas where he could hopefully avoid being spotted by an owl. The grounds were not a nice place to be when you were a rat; unless you had fearsome creatures of your own with you.
Yet tomorrow. Tomorrow, if everything went right, then he would be done with Greyback, done with shadowy meetings in the forest, and back to living his dull life in the castle. How had he ever gotten tired his peaceful life as the boy's pet? If he had only stayed hidden… This was a nightmare.

Tomorrow though, it would all be over tomorrow. Greyback would try to grab Potter. Potter's anti-portkey necklace would prevent his escape, and Greyback would be caught by the Aurors and kissed, or killed on sight. It would be best if he were killed. But either way, Peter wouldn't have to worry about Greyback anymore.


IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII


"Hogsmeade'll cheer you up mate," Ron said as they ate breakfast. "We'll focus on staying out of the dormitory today, and not skipping meals."

Couldn't a guy shut himself up for one day without people acting like he was sliding off the deep end?

"You really shouldn't be going to Hogsmeade," Hermione said, and Harry had long since lost count of how many times she had said it since the visit had been announced.

"Can we maybe focus on positive things just this once?" Ron asked, annoyed. "After yesterday, Harry deserves a day in Hogsmeade. It'll be a Snape free day."

"Well someone has to think about these thing," Hermione said scathingly. "Since none of the professors are." She shot a hostile glance at the head table.

"If Professor Dumbledore thinks it's safe then we shouldn't have to worry," Ron said.

"Professor Dumbledore thinks a lot of things are safe," Hermione said.

Harry largely spent the conversation moving food around his plate.

"Oh look Harry," Ron said. "Hedwig's got something for you."

Harry looked up and was glad to see his snowy owl flying towards him. She dropped a small parcel in front of him and perched on his shoulder.

"Did you order something?" Ron asked.

"Yeah," Harry said and placed the parcel in his book bag and stroked Hedwig's feathers. "I'll explain when we're alone."

Harry went back to staring at his plate after Hedwig took off for the owlery.

"Harry," Hermione said. "If you give it some time…"

"Life isn't some fairy tale Hermione," Harry said bitterly. "You don't always get a happy ending. I wasn't meant to have parents and that's that. I told you before I could do just fine on my own."

"Well you're welcome at my place Harry," Ron said. "We should talk to my parents about it soon, we can get Bill over to visit and look at the wards. You'll be safe as gold at Gringotts this summer."

Harry gave Ron a smile and Hermione sighed sadly before shooting another glare at the head table.

They walked out together with the other students later, on their way to Hogsmeade. Harry rather wished he could just take a day to walk around the village and explore with his friends. They got into a carriage and once it started moving Ron turned to Harry.

"So what's with this secret package you got?" Ron asked.

There was a pop and suddenly Professor Snape was stooping in the carriage.

"It's a portkey beacon," Harry said as Ron yelped.

"What are you doing here," Ron said indignantly, shooting the professor a glare as the man sat on the opposite bench.

"I'm not going to Hogsmeade Ron," Harry said. "Professor Snape's going to impersonate me and try to draw out Greyback."

"Snape is!?" Ron asked incredulously.

"Mr. Weasley," Professor Snape said imperiously. "Do stop shouting."

"Is that safe?" Hermione asked. "What about the students?"

"Measures have been taken to ensure everyone's safety," Professor Snape said. "We do not have much time. I need a hair Mr. Potter."

Harry didn't say anything, he just reached up and yanked out a few strands that he quickly passed over to the man. Professor Snape reached into his cloak and pulled out a vial of familiar potion. Harry noticed then that Professor Snape was dressed in student robes, with a Gryffindor tie. The man put the hairs into the vial before downing the potion. Harry watched with morbid fascination as Professor Snape became his double. A few waves of his wand resized his clothing.

"Here is your portkey; you'll need to give me your anti-portkey charm." Professor Snape said, holding out a ruffled quill. "We're going to hit the Hogwarts gates in a moment and I don't want you outside the wards so activate that now, I'll explain the plan to your friends, and Mr. Potter…" Professor Snape eyed Ron and Hermione. "I would very much like to discuss what we went over yesterday when I return. The activation code is 'taurus', go now."

Harry blanched at the prospect of a future discussion but nodded, making the exchange. He wanted to be away from the professor quickly, and he had no desire to get anywhere near the castle gates and the dementors that guarded them. He said the word, and disappeared.


IIIIIIIIIIIIIII


Severus watched Harry disappear and settled back into the carriage seat secure in the knowledge that the boy was safe. There had been much he had wanted to say but there hadn't been the time. He eyed Weasley and Granger now that they were alone. Weasley had a clearly hostile look on his face and Granger looked like she had misgivings to say the least.

"There is a carefully laid plan afoot, and loath as I am to involve students, the two of you are tangentially involved," Severus said. "You need to listen carefully and do exactly as I say."

"Greyback's never going to fall for this," Weasley said. "You may look like Harry, but you'll never fool anyone."

"He does have a point Professor," Granger said. "Everything from your posture to the way you speak is different. If Greyback spent any time watching Harry over the summer, he'll spot the difference."

Severus held up a hand to silence their objections and he sank into his own mind, pulling up the mask he had prepared. His shoulders hunched in, he sank down into his seat and he started fidgeting slightly as he looked nervously between Ron and Hermione.

"Look Ron," he said tentatively. "I know things have been crazy lately, and this is like, really bad timing for everything, but you need to trust that I know what I'm doing here. The important thing here is catching Greyback. I can't let him get away again. He's hurt too many people and if I can do something about it then I will, but I'm going to need your help." He turned to Hermione. "Both of your help."

Severus let the mask slip and he sat up straight in his seat as Weasley gave him a wide eyed look and the gears behind Grangers eyes started turning.

"Is that a spell professor?" Granger asked. "Or are you really…"

"The mental arts allow me to simulate another person within my own mind," Severus said. "Or rather they allow me to simulate another person as I perceive them. Had a Legilimens looked into my mind a moment ago they would have believed that I was Harry Potter because in the forefront of my mind, I believed I was Harry Potter. Now enough of this, are you prepared to listen?"

The Weasley boy shrugged and Granger nodded.

"Your part of the plan is simple," Severus said. "You, Miss Granger, will show excitement as soon as we arrive, and you will walk off towards Scrivner's Emporium as though you expect the two of us to follow you. Scrivner's is the closest store on your right when you get out of the carriage. Do you understand?"

"Yes," Granger said. "But why…"

Severus cut her off.

"Mister Weasley, you and I will have a verbal spat at the end of which I will walk off angrily towards the northern edge of the town but will curve towards the eastern edge. You will head towards Miss Granger. Do you understand."

Weasley nodded.

"Miss Granger, you will notice my absence and insist on looking for me. You will go in the direction Mr. Weasley saw me initially go in. You will search as though you assume that I have stayed in the center of town around the popular shops. You will not go into the outskirts of the town. You will not go towards the eastern edge. You will not reveal to anyone this ruse. Do I make myself clear?" he asked the both of them.

"Yes professor," Granger said while Weasley just nodded again.

"What are we fighting about?" Ron asked.

"Mr. Potter has made no secret that something has been bothering him," Severus said, and Weasley sent him a withering glare. "As I exit the carriage a few moments after Miss Grangers exits, I will say loudly that it is none of your business. The presumption here being that you had been prying into what has been upsetting Mr. Potter. You will yell back that I should just tell you what's wrong and that it probably isn't even a big deal. I will insult you, you will insult me, I will leave.

"Are there any questions?" asked Severus.

"Yeah, I've got a question," Weasley said. "What have you got against Harry?"

"Ron!" Granger scolded. "That's not going to help."

Severus internally groaned. He had wondered if Harry had told everything to his friends. For good measure he started mildly occluding, if only since losing his temper would make it more difficult later to organize his thoughts.

"Help?" Weasley asked. "What's there to help? He's made up his mind. Harry's the one who needs our help right now. Help getting over this mess." The boy shot Severus a glare when he said the word 'mess.' "And you know what, we helped cause this. Harry was right to give it time, he'd have realized it was a no-go eventually. We shouldn't have pushed him into this."

"Enough," Severus said. "The matter is not as it appears. There was a misunderstanding last night that I will address. I do not require your input on the matter."

"A misunderstanding? Was it two years of misunderstandings?" Weasley asked. "A bloody misunderstanding! A kid tells you you're his father and what? You accidentally told him to get lost?"

"I did not get a chance to tell him anything," Severus said, exasperated. "And that is all you need to know about the matter. I have no intention of repudiating him."

"Are you sure?" Granger asked timidly. "You can't go back and forth. If you change your mind later, it will really hurt him."

"Don't give him ideas, Hermione," Weasley said.

"I'm not giving him ideas," Granger said, turning back to Severus. "Harry's not stupid. Maybe you didn't say anything horrible to him, but if he could tell that you weren't exactly thrilled about being his father…"

"I am not averse to being his father, I am sure," Severus said. "And I certainly have no intention of hurting him."

"Then you need to make sure he knows that," Weasley said. "Or else he's always going to be waiting to see what's on the other side of the tarot card."

Severus sighed. A glance out the window showed that they were passing through the outskirts of the town.

"Are the both of you clear on the plan?" Severus asked.

"Yes Professor," Granger said as Weasley nodded.

Severus immersed himself in his mind and emerged as Harry Potter.


IIIIIIIIIIIIIIII


"Lemon drop Harry?" the Headmaster offered as Harry picked up his teacup.

"No thank you, sir," Harry said. He of course couldn't be seen roaming the castle when he was very publicly supposed to be in Hogsmeade so he was taking up residence in the Headmaster's office where he had been offered leave to peruse the various bookshelves for entertainment. This would probably have been an exceptionally interesting offer any other time, but Harry would much rather just hole up in his dorm room at the moment. It wasn't as though Seamus, Dean, or Neville would be anywhere other than Hogsmeade at the moment or reporting to Greyback besides.

"I have been curious to know if our conversation from last week led anywhere," the headmaster said after Harry had had some time to with his tea. This certainly wasn't a topic Harry wanted to discuss.

"I suppose it has professor," Harry said ponderously. "I've needed to tell you something for a while and I guess this is probably the best time. I…" Harry remembered Ron's words from earlier in the term. "The Dursleys and I've never gotten on and they were a bit worse than usual this summer. When they found out I had a dark wizard after me they… well they kicked me out of the house. I didn't run away. I'm going to need someplace safe to stay this summer if they don't catch Greyback today. Or, you know, just a place to stay if they do."

Harry looked up at the headmaster and saw a shrewd but compassionate look on the man's face, before that was smoothed over leaving nothing but concern.

"I am sorry that that happened, Harry. Did you have any ideas on where you might stay?" the headmaster asked.

"Well I was thinking I could just stay at the school over the summer," Harry said, looking mostly at his tea. "I'd be plenty safe here. Though if they do catch Greyback, I was hoping I could stay with Ron's family again. He has offered, though I would need to ask his parents. Hermione's offered her place too. I guess I could also stay at the Leakey Cauldron again if their folks won't go for it."

"I see," the headmaster said, and Harry looked up to gauge what the man thought of those options but found that he could not tell. "I must say, within the wards upon Privet Drive, you are far safer from Fenrir Greyback there than you are even here at Hogwarts. It may be that an attempt to convince your relatives to take you back would be the best course."

Harry took a fortifying breath and shook his head no even as he dropped his gaze to make a study of his own lap.

"I can't go back, Sir," Harry said. "They don't want me, they never have. I… I can't go back. I just can't."

"I will have to consider this matter carefully Harry," the headmaster said. "But I will endeavor to find for you the best solution."

Harry wondered how the headmaster would define the 'best' solution.


IIIIIIIIIIIIII


As Harry perused the bookshelves, Albus ordered his thoughts. Yet another conversation that did not go as he had thought it should.

In none of his foreseen futures had this been an issue. Harry had never confided his homelessness. In all scenarios down this path, Fenrir Greyback was either dead, captured, or had absconded with Harry. In the variants of the first two cases, Harry had been able to convince his relatives to take him back on his own.

Yet the headmaster had been prepared to deal with a Harry Potter who had asked to live with Severus, now that he knew of Harry's heritage. He had even started working out a fashion to rework the blood wards to retie them to Severus through his blood resonance with Harry, and Harry's with Lily. Not as effective, but still very potent potentially.

It wasn't ideal, it was in fact a massive divergence, but he had to adjust as he was able, lest he completely lose control. He could still guide events to stay along similar pathways and minimize contamination while keeping Harry within the blood wards. He had thought he understood where Harry's and Severus's relationship had been headed, but Harry had not mentioned the man, and considering his rather morose demeanor, Albus thought that something had gone wrong with the boy's plan to tell Severus the day prior.

Though it saddened him, this was for the best. With a little work he could more easily keep things on track. He would convince Harry to go back to the Dursleys. Harry would discontinue his potions activities and Albus would see affairs within the school running as smoothly as they were running without. Everything and everyone moving precisely and predictably towards Voldemort's demise.


IIIIIIIIIIIIII


He walked the outskirts of the town, the very picture of an angry morose teenage boy. Severus kept watch over the simulation running in his mind; the angry miserable boy who just wanted to be alone. That was what controlled his body then, not Severus. Severus could only watch now.

He took comfort from his inability to spot the Aurors who he knew surrounded him. At least they could hide worth a damn. He had heard rumor that Alastor Moody had come out of retirement to help with the hunt and he wondered if the mad Auror was out there as well. The part of him that was Severus kept alert for all movement while the other part was barely aware of what was two feet in front of him. He idly noticed the cat that was Minerva walking along the top of a fence in front of him. He didn't know why she had insisted on taking part. It wasn't as though her Gryffindors didn't give her enough trouble.

Keeping alert was, however, actually difficult at the moment, though his life could depend on it. The fact of the matter was that splitting his mind thusly was incredibly taxing, and factoring in the revelation of the prior afternoon, Severus found he had a hard time keeping his head in the moment. It didn't help that all the boy was thinking about was the afternoon prior himself.

If he hadn't seen numerous examples of parents who should not have kids, he might have fooled himself into thinking that there was no possible way someone such as himself could possibly have a son.

Yet it did seem that the fact of the matter was that he was a father. Harry was his son, his and Lily's… and James Potter's… Where it that that was the only wrinkle he thought he could see the way forward, but it was not so simple. The first two years of Harry's life at Hogwarts was not even the worst of it. Harry didn't even know the worst of it. Should he tell him? Could he?

He could not fathom what Lily had been thinking when she had written that letter. He couldn't imagine she had wanted him to be any sort of father to Harry, but Severus knew that he was the one who had destroyed her family. Whatever Albus's platitudes, Lily was not there to forgive him, and he could not do so for either of them.

Lily was gone though, James Potter was gone, Severus remained, but what was there to do with Harry? Why was he seeking out a relationship with Severus? He did not remember Petunia fondly, but she and her husband had been the boy's family since he was fifteen months old. They were his parents. What could have possessed the boy to feel the need to connect with Severus, of all people, when he had a family already?

Severus was brought out of his musings when he saw a man approaching. It didn't look like Greyback, but Greyback hadn't looked like Greyback the last time he had attacked Harry. The man spotted him and paused, giving him a feral grin that revealed sharpened teeth. In a heartbeat the man was sprinting towards him. Severus dropped the simulation and took control of his body, quickly drawing his wand. It was pointless however, a good dozen spells struck the man who fell to the ground stunned, petrified, bound, and for some reason glowing. A good many Aurors dropped illusions and came out of hiding, several rushing past Severus to approach their prisoner.

It was almost anticlimactic. Severus put his wand away as an Auror trio portkeyed away with Greyback. The rest of the Auror's appeared to be in good cheer. Two of the five escapees were now taken care of, and within a few days of one another too.

"Severus!" Minerva's warning cry rang out.

Suddenly he was grabbed from behind. Severus struggled, but Harry's diminutive body was powerless against the arms that encased him. A large dirty hand covered his mouth.

"Nice try Potter," a gruff voice said in his ear. "But then, your not Potter are you? Tell him he's mine, tell him I'm still coming for him. If you can."

A sharp pain erupted just below his bottom rib and he felt his diaphragm spasm and freeze as it was pierced. The hands disappeared and he barely registered the sharp crack behind him as he fell to the ground. He could barely breath as he tried to staunch the flow of blood gushing from his chest with one hand and draw his wand with the other. He could barely speak as he attempted to close the wound, the spell would not form. New hands came; removing his own. A new wand hovered over him as a new voice started incanting. Severus did his best to stay alert, but eventually resigned himself to waking up in the infirmary.


IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII


'Runes of Peace' was actually a very interesting book, Harry reflected as he sat in the plush armchair that sat by the headmaster's fireplace. Most of it went over his head, but it still managed to be very engaging. The headmaster had been going through a mountain of paperwork and correspondence for the past hour while Harry had been thumbing through several interesting books.

Hermione would probably be jealous when she found out about how Harry had spent his morning. Though that squared, since Harry was jealous that she was able to go to Hogsmeade. Of course, if this whole thing worked out, Greyback could be caught at any moment and then perhaps he could go spend the afternoon in the magical village. He was due for something good, wasn't he? Hadn't the universe taken enough?

Harry shook off that thought. He was forgetting it. He was forgetting all of it. He hadn't lost anything, because he hadn't anything to lose. Professor Snape wasn't really his father, he had never truly been free from the Dursleys, and fairy tales were just tall tales. He hadn't lost a father, he hadn't lost his freedom, he had just been telling himself stories, fantasies really, and now he had been brought back to reality. He was lucky to have cut it off when he had, really. Professor Snape had done him a favor and ripped the bandaid off in one go.

"Headmaster! Severus has been injured, I've brought him to the infirmary," Professor McGonagall's voice said urgently.

Harry's head whipped up from the headmaster's book to catch a silvery ethereal cat disappear from the headmaster's desk.

"Professor Snape?" Harry said, shocked. He felt his stomach coil up as his breath caught in his throat. The next moment he was out of the chair and racing down the spiral staircase. He heard the headmaster call after him, but he didn't stop. He ran through the corridor and dove through walls, taking every shortcut he knew to get to the infirmary.

He arrived out of breath and skidded to a halt in the entrance. He saw Madame Pomfrey incanting over Harry's own doppelgänger, which was prone and very still while Professor McGonagall was retrieving potions from shelves. He knew better than to interrupt the matron, but he still asked, "Is he going to be alright?"

Madame Pomfrey didn't stop what she was doing, or even look up, but Professor McGonagall gave him a very curt, "He will be fine, Mr. Potter, leave us be to treat him," before continuing with what she was doing.

Suddenly Professor Snape's body arched up and he gave several short gasping breaths, as though he could not draw air in properly. Harry took in the blood that was smeared on the white linen around the man's chest. Madame Pomfrey forced a potion down Professor Snape's throat after he had taken a few more breaths, after which his breathing became deeper, though still ragged.

Professor McGonagall noticed that Harry was still there. "This isn't quidditch Mr. Potter," she said tersely. "We do not need an audience."

"But will he be alright?" Harry asked, very worried and still out of breath.

"Yes," Professor McGonagall said. "Now off with you."

Harry cast a wary glance at Professor Snape, who looked far from being alright, but nodded his head and left the infirmary. He didn't go far, turning the corner, he slumped down and focused on catching his own breath. Drawing his knees up to his body, he leaned his head against them and closed his eyes. The blood was everywhere. He couldn't stop himself from seeing it. He felt as though he were covered in it. He couldn't stop hearing how Professor Snape had gasped for breath.

Worry brewed inside of him even as shame and anger tried to stamp it out. He shouldn't be worried, he told himself. He shouldn't feel like this. The blood wasn't on his own hands. Not this time. He reminded himself that Professor Snape wasn't his father; he wasn't anything to him. There was no reason to be worried about him, no reason to care. There never had been. But he was worried; he was worried for the same reason he had felt hurt and rejected the night before. He did care. A part of him still wanted that fantasy. A part of him still wanted that happily ever after.

Maybe it wasn't even so hard to see why. There had always been that secret squashed hope, when he was living with the Dursleys. Some long-lost relative would come and take custody of him and love him. His parents weren't really dead, they were just in comas, and they woke up. He was adopted like Little Orphan Annie. Heck, he'd even daydreamed about that older kid who had once told Dudley's gang to leave Harry alone inviting him to come stay at his place. So when an actual biological father had come into the picture, even if it was Snape, why wouldn't he hope?

The worst part; the worst part was that he had started to really like spending time with the professor. He had liked thinking of himself living with the man even when he had thought that it could never happen. He'd started to really like Professor Snape and that hadn't just stopped the night prior. There was a reason he felt sick at the thought of Professor Snape bleeding out in the Hospital Wing, struggling to breathe. Harry drew in his own ragged breath and held it before letting it out as calmly as he could.

"Are you alright?" a young voice asked.

Harry looked up to see that a first or second year Hufflepuff had stopped in front of him. Harry took a moment to be annoyed with himself for being so oblivious as to not hear someone coming down the hall.

"Yeah," Harry said, embarrassed. "I'm alright, I guess. Just, thought I'd sit down here for a moment."

"Wanna sugar quill?" the Hufflepuff asked.

"A sugar quill?" Harry asked.

"Make you feel better," the Hufflepuff said.

"I'm alright," Harry said. "Really. What are you doing up here? Do you need the infirmary?"

"My feet got hexed," the Hufflepuff said, nodding down to bare feet, poking out from under robes that were a little bit too long. Harry noticed that the feet appeared to be about twice as big as normal feet. It explained how he hadn't heard the click clack of shoes down the corridor.

"Did you try finite?" Harry asked.

The Hufflepuff nodded.

"Well the infirmary's not really open for business right now, how about a professor," Harry said. "Professor Lupin's office is near here. Can you walk alright?"

He got another nod. "I've never been to Professor Lupin's office though."

"I know the way," Harry said and took a deep breath before he got up.

"Were you waiting for the infirmary though," the Hufflepuff asked.

"Sort of," Harry said. "Not really. Come on."

"Is Professor Lupin going to ask questions?" the Hufflepuff asked. "Devon says Madame Pomfrey doesn't ask too many questions."

"I don't know, but he seems alright," said Harry, though he wasn't sure how he felt about endorsing a professor to a student, especially a defense professor.

"You know this isn't how it was supposed to work," the Hufflepuff said. "I was supposed to be nice to you."

"You were nice to me," Harry said. "And who's keeping track. Hufflepuff doesn't really have a good deed quota, do they? I thought that that was a joke."

"It's not really a quota," the Hufflepuff said, as though this was something Hufflepuff's often had to address. "But that's besides the point. You helped me on the train so I wanted to help you ‘cause you looked sad, I just didn't have any chocolate. Was it the sugar quill? You would have liked a chocolate frog I bet. I finished all my chocolate weeks ago. I asked my brother to bring me some from town but it's fifty fifty if he will now."

Harry's eyebrows shot up realizing who he was talking to.

"I'm sorry, I didn't recognize you. Your hair was a lot shorter on the train," Harry said. "Justin, right?"

"Justin's my brother. I'm Sam. Sam Eldrich. My dad makes me keep my hair short, but I like it like this," the Hufflepuff said. "Justin keeps saying he's going to write dad though."

"Is this the same Justin who told you you were going to be tested on spells at the sorting?" Harry asked.

A nod.

"I don't suppose Justin hexed your feet?" Harry asked.

A shrug.

Silence.

"He caught me being… goofy, and he said that I wasn't acting like a 'proper wizard,' and that's why I was in Hufflepuff and not a good house. He's always trying to act all grown up and like a 'proper wizard', but he's just mean."

"What house is he in?" Harry asked frowning.

"Ravenclaw," Sam said.

"Well Ravenclaw doesn't even have the smartest student in the school, so I don't know what their claim to fame is," Harry said. "Hufflepuff's a proper house."

Harry thought that might have been the nicest thing he'd ever had occasion to say about Hufflepuff House.

"It is," Sam nodded sagely.

"So did Justin hex you for being goofy?" Harry asked, wondering why an upperclassman would take offense to a first year acting childishly.

"No, he'd been saying he was going to write dad about me to get me in trouble, so I told him I was going to tell everyone he'd had lightning bold underwear till he was ready to come to Hogwarts," Sam said. "Then he hexed me, but it's alright, because I kicked him with my giant feet. I was hoping it would wear off, but it's been a while."

"Lightning bolt underwear?" Harry asked.

"Yeah, you know," Sam said, gesturing towards Harry's forehead.

"Wait," Harry said, scandalized. "They've got my scar on underwear."

"Well yeah," Sam said. "It's like that super fellow. A muggle boy told me about him when I saw his at the community pool. With the big red ess. You grew up with muggles didn't you?"

"Superman," Harry said nodding.

"Yeah, him," Sam said. "They've got his ess on underwear."

Harry remembered being jealous of Dudley for having Superman underwear when they’d been little. Though he wasn’t Superman; he had thought having books about himself was weird enough. His scar wasn't a symbol, it was just… his scar. It didn’t belong on underwear.

"Do you think he's a wizard?" Sam asked, not noticing Harrys discomfort. "Or do you suppose he really is from another planet. I bet he just says he's from another planet to get around the Statute of Secrecy, that boy said he could fly, but I bet he has an invisible broomstick."

"Who? Superman?" Harry asked, bewildered. "He's just a story. He's not real." Harry could forget sometimes just how much the wizarding world could be ignorant of the muggle world."

"Really?" Sam asked. "Oh, I guess that makes sense. Devon kept laughing when I was telling Nichole about him."

They arrived at Professor Lupin's office. Sam looked hesitant.

"He doesn't bite," Harry said. "At least I don't think he does. If he asks questions you can just say you made a mistake practicing charms. I'll go in with you."

Sam knocked on the door, and the two of them entered the office.

"Harry," Professor Lupin said, clearly surprised. "And company, what can I do for you."

"I messed up my charms, Professor," Sam piped up, sticking out one large foot. "My feet are ginormous."

"So you'll need shoes twice as big," Professor Lupin said with a straight face. "It's a simple engorgement charm; did you bring them with you?"

"No, no, no," Sam said urgently. "I need my feet shrunk. You can fix them can't you."

"Oh, you want your feet smaller," Professor Lupin said. "Yes, I suppose I can do that as well. Not as easy as making shoes fit, but I think I can manage. Kip on over here and have a seat." Professor Lupin patted the top of his desk.

Sam walked over and hopped up onto the desk.

Professor Lupin prodded Sam's feet with his wand a couple of times.

"A charms mishap you said?" Professor Lupin asked.

"Mmmhmm," Sam replied.

"Well let’s see," Professor Lupin said. He tapped Sam on the top of his head with his wand and said, "Finitae Pedésaltus."

Sam's feet promptly shrunk to what Harry assumed was their original size. Sam gave a small sigh of relief.

"That's odd," Professor Lupin said. "It seems that all you needed was the counter for the foot engorgement hex. What charm did you say you were practicing when you did this?"

"Ummm… I can't remember," Sam said, doing a good show of putting some thought into the matter.

"Oh well," Professor Lupin said. "Do be more careful in the future then. Enjoy your Sunday."

"Thanks Professor," Sam said, heading for the door.

"That'll be five points to you Mr. Potter for helping out," Professor Lupin said. "And just a moment of your time if you don't mind.

Sam turned around at the door and waved to Harry goodbye. Harry waved back and got a loud "thanks," as Sam left.

Harry wished that Sam had stayed. He had learned early on with the Dursleys that it was dangerous to be alone with people. The Dursleys had always been more vicious without an audience, even if that audience was one another. It was as though they didn't want each other to see them at their most horrible. He had always been hurt worst when he was alone with Uncle Vernon. It was a lesson he had learned time and again. He was nervous to be alone with people, adults especially.

Harry thought that Professor Dumbledore was the only adult he was actually comfortable being alone with. There was something about him that was very disarming. Harry had thought that he could feel that way with Professor Snape, maybe. Professor Lupin though, he was really nice, and he had been friends with his father, but Harry couldn't help but be wary of the relative stranger.

Harry turned towards Professor Lupin who smiled and said, "I think we can start lessons on the Patronus Charm soon. I do think I've found a proper study aide."

"Oh, that's good professor," Harry said, both relieved and anxious at the same time. "When can we start?"

"Well I suppose that will be mostly up to you," Professor Lupin said. "I understand your schedule can be a bit hectic these days."

That gave Harry pause since he did in fact have very little time in his schedule if he wanted to get his homework done. Although, what was he going to do about being Snape's potions assistant? Would the man be angry if he gave that up? Or, more likely, the man would probably be happy to spend less awkward time around him. Or was he even really going to be alright. There had been so much blood.

"I'll have to work that out professor," Harry said, stressed now to be thinking about the professor once more. "I'll get back to you."

"Take your time," Professor Lupin said. "I seem to have more essays to grade right now than I remember assigning."

"Well you could always stop assigning essays for a while, professor," Harry said, forcing a bit of a smile. "If they've gotten to be too much."

"Ah, but then I wouldn't get to see every which way a student can fit a quidditch analogy into an essay about vampires," Professor Lupin said.

"Oh, I could always fit a few more in if you'd like professor," Harry said.

"With you, Mr. Potter, I don't think one could fit any more into an essay," Professor Lupin said. "No I don't think it would be possible. Now, I must say, I was under the impression that you would be in the Headmaster's office this morning, or is that harebrained scheme of theirs already over?"

"Professor Snape's in the Hospital Wing," Harry said, looking down and trying not to sound upset. "I don't know what happened."

"I see," Professor Lupin said, looking worried. "Will he be alright?"

Harry shrugged. "Professor McGonagall said he would be, but I don't know. It looked bad."

"Was there any other news?" Professor Lupin asked.

Harry shook his head. "I don't know if they caught Greyback or anything. I hope they did. I really really do. I hope they put a stop to him."

In spite of everything, this was the first time Harry could recall feeling anger towards Greyback. He had felt fear, terror really, at times. He had felt sorrow and horror when he had thought of what Greyback had done to Ms. Adler. But for some reason he had never really been angry. Greyback was a monster, what use was it being angry with a monster. They couldn't be anything but monsters. But he was angry now. He really, really hoped that the Aurors had put a stop to Greyback.

"Well, I suppose we shall have to hope for the best then," Professor Lupin said.

Harry nodded.

"I didn't realize you knew about the Greyback thing," Harry said. "I thought it was supposed to be hushed up."

"It is," Professor Lupin said. "The headmaster consulted me for the plan though. He wanted to know what Greyback was likely to think."

"Because you're an expert on Greyback?" Harry said.

Professor Lupin nodded.

"Because he killed Mr. Black?" Harry asked delicately.

Professor Lupin shook his head. "I had made a study of him during the war," he said. "He was very active back then, since before the war really."

"Why?" Harry asked.

"Well he's not an average werewolf now, is he?" Professor Lupin said. "Contrary to popular belief and in accordance with all records, most people with lycanthropy attempt to lead quiet lives, and try very hard to never bite anyone. Fenrir wanted to start a movement, he wanted the world over to be either werewolves or prey. He was convinced that they would thank him for it too. He was able to gather a few followers, people who had grown embittered being marginalized in society and he started a colony."

"They were always on the move," he went on. "They would kidnap children, magical and muggle alike. He thought he could raise them to be like him, more animal at heart than man. He had always been somewhat feral, since before he was bitten. He is the only werewolf I know of who sought out lycanthropy."

"He got bitten on purpose?" Harry asked, aghast.

Professor Lupin nodded. "He kidnapped a young woman who had lycanthropy, put her in a cage, and on the night of the full moon stuck his arm through the bars to receive the bite."

Professor Lupin paused to let that sink in.

"Many people have used him to highlight their fears of all werewolves, but he is very much the same man he was before he was bitten," Professor Lupin said. "He was expelled from this school for mauling one of his classmates. He did it for sport, I think. He has always relished in the animal side that I think we all have, that we abandoned millennia ago. He is highly intelligent, but at his heart, he embraced the mythos surrounding pack animals from a very early age and he wants the rest of the world to either be a part of his pack, or prey for it."

"What did you tell Professor Dumbledore when he asked you about the plan?" Harry asked.

"I asked him, if he were an outside observer, would he expect Dumbledore to allow you out of the castle just because Beckett was dead," Professor Lupin said. "I told him that Greyback may seem to be detached from reality, but he is very in tune with what goes on around him. I didn't think he would fall for this one."

"So why did they go through with it?" Harry asked bitterly.

"I suppose they thought even a small chance was worth the risk," Professor Lupin said. "Though I do believe they miscalculated that risk, in hindsight. I must say, a great many would say any risk was worth the chance to catch Greyback once more."

"Catch him," Harry said, upset. "What's the point? So he can escape again? So he can kill again?"

"Would you kill him yourself?" Professor Lupin asked gravely.

"What?" Harry asked.

"If not captured, then killed," Professor Lupin said. "Are you volunteering?"

"That's… That's not what I meant," Harry said

Professor Lupin looked at him. "Okay," he said.

"That's not…" Harry was frustrated. "I'm just… He kills for fun. When he killed Ms. Adler…He said, 'let's have some fun,' and he smiled like he… like he got off on what he was going to do to her… What he did do to her. There was blood everywhere, and I keep seeing it. I don't have to get close to a dementor to see it. I can't un-see it. He did that to her for fun and I'm drowning in it. Now he's hurt Professor Snape, he was covered in blood, and he's like the only…"

Harry had to take a couple of deep breaths before he could go on.

"Should I feel bad?" he asked. "For thinking Greyback shouldn't exist?"

"Of course not," Professor Lupin said. "I myself have often wished that he had never existed. I've thought that he is too dangerous to exist. Yet it is a great burden to kill another. Remember that the next time you think an Auror should just kill someone rather than capture them. Remember that and ask yourself if you would place that burden on them."

Harry made a study of his shoes.

"Who's Ms. Adler, Harry?" Professor Lupin asked.

"What?" Harry asked, looking up.

"You said Greyback killed her," Remus said. "I hadn't heard about that. I was wondering who she was."

"I don't even know her first name," Harry said sadly. "She just lived in my neighborhood, you know? When Greyback found me, back in Little Whinging, he chased me for a bit before he caught me. He caught me in her back yard. She came out and told him to get off me and she whacked him with a fire poker. Then he… then he attacked her. He attacked her with his teeth and with his nails, but she kept fighting. I tried to stop him, but I couldn't, and when he turned his attention back to me she got back up and started throwing stuff at him. She wouldn't stop. Then he used this spell and she… I told her to stay inside. I told her to stay inside and call the police. I didn't think the police could stop him, but I didn't think she could either. Why didn't she stay inside? Why did she… Why did I have to run through her yard? I was supposed to be a wizard, but she saved me and I couldn't do anything for her. Nothing. All I could do was run away."

"That was very brave of her," Professor Lupin said.

"She should have stayed inside," Harry said, swiping at his eyes with the sleeves of his robes. He hung his head. "I told her to stay inside."

"Perhaps I'm being selfish," Professor Lupin said, putting a hand on Harry's shoulder. "But I'm glad that she didn't."

"I, I should go…Professor," Harry said, ducking away from the man and trying to hide his face, suddenly very self aware. "They'll be wondering where I got off to. I…I just sort of ran off on the Headmaster. I'll just…"

Harry walked towards the door.

"Harry wait," Professor Lupin said. "I could floo the headmaster in just a moment."

"I just need to go," Harry mumbled, almost running out the door.

Once he was well out of the man's office, he really did start running. He ran and he ran, not caring where he was going. He ran until he tripped on the corner of the flagstone and fell to his hands and knees somewhere in the castle. He lay there a while, catching his breath, feeling the pain in his hands.

Eventually he rolled onto his side and sat up, bringing his knees to his chest with his back to the corridor wall. Harry looked at the small smear of blood and grit on his palms. He remembered the blood in the infirmary, he remembered blood that spattered a back yard. Ms. Adler, then professor Snape; before them his own parents, his godfather. People kept getting hurt on account of him, people had died. Harry remembered what Professor Snape had said on Friday, but even still; it may not have been his turn to go before the specter of death, but he would be damned if anyone else ever faced it again for him.

The blood on his hands had stopped flowing, it was just a scrape, the potion that Professor Snape had given him was doing it's job. Harry wondered if he would be able to get his week's dose that evening of if he would have to perform the Sang Vitalis charm on himself and avoid Dementors until Professor Snape got better. Harry looked at the blood on his hand and wished for a moment that the charm had worn off long before Harry had ever gotten that letter. He pushed that thought away with a sick feeling. He performed the charm on himself then. There would be no point in bothering Professor Snape today, even if he was out of the Hospital Wing before curfew that evening. Even if he was still alive.

He stopped in a bathroom before he went back to the headmaster's office. He washed the dirt and the blood from his hands and the tears from his face. He wished he could wash everything down the drain, before he thought that he should stop wishing for stupid things. Some wishes were dangerous. Some things couldn't wash clean.

The headmaster wasn't angry with Harry for running off, and Harry found himself with more tea before long, though he couldn't taste it. The words of the headmaster washed over him. He didn't take in much more than that Professor Snape was going to be okay but Greyback had gotten away.

The headmaster released him before long and Harry found himself detouring past the infirmary on his way to Gryffindor Tower. He didn't much notice the first and second years who eyed the lone third year curiously. He took a seat by one of the fireplaces and stared at the fire for a time. Lunch came and passed and Harry eventually decided to do something productive and started reading ahead for defense.

"Did you really not go to Hogsmeade Harry?" a twin surprised him by asking some time later. Harry looked up to see the twins looking at him.

"They're saying someone polyjuiced you to trick Greyback," one of them said.

"Oh, yeah," Harry said awkwardly, doing his best to identify the twins. "They did."

"You couldn't have gone under your cloak?" George asked.

"Or polyjuiced yourself?" Fred asked.

"Wasn't worth the risk," Harry said, thinking of Professor Snape.

"Wasn't worth the risk?" George asked.

"It has never been more blatantly obvious that our young friend here has had no proper education," Fred said.

"None at all," George agreed.

"A terrible shame," Fred said.

"What are they teaching kids these days?" George asked.

"Nothing important I'm sure," Fred said.

"Hogsmeade is fantastic," George told Harry.

"Bloody brilliant," Fred supplied.

"Why, for someone who's never been, you must have no clue what you're missing," George said.

"Something must be done," Fred said.

"Something must, yes," George said.

"He shall be educated in the ways," Fred said, eying Harry appraisingly, and the hairs on the back of Harry's neck stood on end.

"But that is for another time," George said ominously.

"Um.." Harry said, not sure what they were talking about.

"To business," Fred said.

"To the matter at hand," George said.

"The matter at hand?" Harry asked.

"Your hand actually," Fred said.

"What?" Harry asked.

Fred pulled out a pair of gloves from his bag.

"Oh," Harry said, recognizing the material the twins had been working with for their project.

"We're swapping out the prototype," George said.

"This one's much safer," Fred said.

"Safer?" Harry asked, thinking of just how much he had been using the gloves.

"You know how we told you you could punch Malfoy while wearing these gloves as long as you weren't thinking about going through his head cause his head wouldn't get put together quite right?" George asked.

"Will these put his head back right?" Harry asked.

"I don't think we'll ever get these things that accurate," Fred said.

"These just won't go through people period," George said. “Madam Tooling was very insistent that our product couldn’t kill people.”

"It's not like we think you're out to kill Malfoy or anything," Fred said.

"But even a small bit of intent can activate the gloves," George said. "A passing thought really."

"So like you're punching Malfoy and you just have a fleeting thought about it," Fred said

"And next thing you know you've got to send, like, flowers to his parents or something," George said.

"Super awkward," Fred said.

"These are better," George said, holding up the gloves.

"So we're swapping gloves," Harry asked, pulling out his own.

"Everything," Fred said, pulling out a bundle from his bag.

"Just toss the old stuff in the fire," George said.

Harry pulled out his gloves and started peeling off the patches of black cloth that had been stuck to the toes of his shoes, and the hood and shoulders of his robes.

They watched the cloth burn after Harry had made a bundle and thrown it into the fire.

"So how has it been working out for you?" Fred asked.

"They make for a quick escape," Harry said.

"That's what we like to hear," George said.

"We've gotten out from under Filch's nose so many times with these now," Fred said.

"It's unsporting," George said, though he did not seem to care about that.

"Well enjoy," Fred said. "Have you already had dinner?"

Harry nodded, a lie.

"Well we're off then," George said.

"We just came up to get a little something for Flint," Fred said with a smile.

"Seems he thought it would be funny to trip up Angelina in the mud," George said.

"He'll be having an interesting time at dinner tonight," Fred said.

"Wait," Harry said. "Have you seen Ron and Hermione?" It was getting pretty late.

"Not a bit of them," Fred said.

"I'd say they were off for some alone time," George said.

"But I'm not sure they'd know what to do with it," Fred said.

The twins made their exit.

They had probably stopped at dinner themselves. Harry wouldn't expect them to come to get him before they ate.

Harry looked at the pile of cloth the twins had left him. The patches went back on his shoes, and robes. The gloves were clipped to the lips of his pockets so he would only need to shove his hands into them to put them on. When he was done, he pulled a lone glove out from under his thigh where he had shoved it earlier. The twins hadn't noticed, and Harry didn't know what he was going to do with it.


IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII


No one had seen Ron or Hermione; not for hours. Harry was really starting to get worried. Dinner was over and everyone was back except for his two friends. Harry left the tower. McGonagall might know, or at the very least, she should know that they were missing.

Harry tried not to imagine horrible things as he walked, but suddenly the idea of Greyback deciding to kidnap his best friends to get to him seemed like something he should have thought of before they had gone off to Hogsmeade. Harry was halfway convinced that he was going to get an owl with instructions to present himself before Greyback for his friends' freedom by the time he got to McGonagall's office.

It was as he got to McGonagall's office though that Ron and Hermione walked out of said office. Though they looked tired, they did not look as though they had been kidnapped in any fashion.

"Ron," Harry exclaimed. "Hermione, where were you? You didn't get detention did you?"

"Detention?" Hermione said, scandalized. "Why would the first thing you thought of be detention?"

"Well my first thought was that you had been kidnapped," Harry said. "But where have you been? It's been ages."

"The Aurors wanted to debrief us," Ron said. "They wanted written statements."

"But why?" Harry asked. "You weren't there were you? You weren't supposed to be anywhere near Professor Snape when everything happened. What did happen?"

"Well we didn't see any of that," Ron said. "And we weren't anywhere near it. But someone got it in their head that since we had been involved in the beginning we had to be on the official record. So we're there at the ministry, waiting to give our statements, but everyone's running around doing other stuff 'cause I guess everything got bollocksed, so it took forever."

"They didn't even feed us properly," Hermione said. "All they had were pastries. But the ministry was so interesting, Harry. It was amazing to be in another magical building besides Hogwarts."

"But what really did happen?" Harry asked.

"Dunno," Ron said. "All we've heard is that Snape got hurt but he's okay and Greyback got away."

"That's all I've heard too," Harry said.

"You really thought we'd been kidnapped?" Ron asked as the three of them started walking back to the tower.

Harry shrugged.

"You'll be happy to know we had a perfectly boring, Greyback free day," Hermione said.

"Yeah, we had to pretend to be looking for you to keep up appearances," Ron said.

"I guess you didn't get to enjoy Hogsmeade either," Harry said.

Ron shrugged.

"Well we did stop for lunch at a rather nice place called the Three Broomsticks," Hermione said.

"Yeah," Ron said. "You know that Butterbeer the twins got for that stupid party? Well they serve it warm and it's bloody brilliant. You've definitely got to try it when this bloody business is all over."

"It was rather good," Hermione said.

"Mr. Potter," the unmistakable voice of Professor Snape said from the corridor they were crossing. "Just the student I was looking for."

Harry turned to face the professor, both eager to see that he was all right, and dreading to have any sort of interaction with the man. The man was pale. Or rather he was paler than usual, and he definitely looked like he should be in bed. He did not, however, look like he was on deaths door, so Harry supposed that he was much improved.

"You're alright," Harry blurted out, completely lacking anything else to say.

"So it would seem," Professor Snape said. "I need a moment of your time, there is a matter we must attend to."

"You don't need to say anything, professor," Harry said. "I understand. You can just forget it, really."

"No, I'm afraid I cannot forget that there is a potion you must take every Sunday," Professor Snape said. "Now as trying as this day has been, I do still have a great deal to attend to, perhaps we can take care of just this one matter now."

"Right," Harry said. "Is it..."

"In my office," Professor Snape said.

"Right," Harry said.

"We'll see you in the common room," Hermione said, with a slight smile. Harry felt slightly abandoned.

Harry started walking with the professor towards the dungeons.

It seemed that the professor was just going to ignore everything; act like Harry had never said anything. Probably the best outcome really. The man wasn't being horrible. He could have said all sorts of things. He could have acted like the Dursleys did, like Harry was a stray wet dog that had wandered in. Ignoring the matter was really the best outcome Harry could have asked for. He pretended it didn't hurt.

Oddly enough, this was the most comfortable Harry had ever felt being alone with the man. Perhaps it was because the man knew. He knew and it changed nothing. Harry didn't have to worry about what he did or what he said. There were no wrong impressions. The cards were on the table. Nothing had changed, nothing would change. Harry had nothing to prove, and nobody to prove anything to. Nothing was going to happen. Pretending that that didn't hurt though was about as effective as pretending everything else didn't hurt.

"I did do the spell, professor," Harry said. "If you're really busy I can always pick the potion up tomorrow after class."

"Yes," Professor Snape said darkly. "Because the spell has been so effective in the past. How many times have you almost died this year? I do not believe you planned out all of your encounters with dementors, did you?"

Harry shrugged.

"You could have at least gone to Madame Pomfrey," Professor Snape continued.

"She would have had kittens," Harry said. "I'd have probably had to stay the night in the Hospital Wing."

"She would have taken care of you," Professor Snape said.

"How did you escape?" Harry asked. "There's no way she released you."

"I do not need to be released," Professor Snape said.

"Should you be in the hospital wing right now?" Harry asked.

"I had more important matters to attend to," Professor Snape said, looking at Harry.

"Are you alright?" Harry asked.

"I will be," Professor Snape said. "It looked worse than it was. I understand you visited."

"I wouldn't call it a visit," Harry said.

"No," Professor Snape said. "I don't suppose it was."

"What happened?" Harry asked.

"From what I observed, Greyback had a man disguised and under the Imperius Curse and forced him to attack me," Professor Snape said. "Believing him to be Greyback in disguise the Aurors all attacked and came out of hiding, leaving me with no one to watch my back."

"So he realized you were an imposter when he saw all the Aurors?" Harry asked.

"He did," Professor Snape said. "He stabbed me with a knife from behind and apparated away."

"And you're going to be alright?" Harry asked.

"I will be stalking these halls in the dead of night looking for wayward Gryffindors in no time at all," Professor Snape said.

Harry smiled at that before chewing on his lip, thinking back on what the professor had said about the attack.

"Magic can do that though?" Harry asked. "Control someone?"

"The Imperius Curse is one of three curses whose use are considered to be unforgivable," Professor Snape. "It removes one's free will and forces compliance."

"Forever?" Harry asked, horrified.

"As long as the curse is maintained," Professor Snape said. "Or until it is broken."

"But surely there are some things you can't be forced to do," Harry said.

"Some people are able to resist the curse," Professor Snape said. "But it is not a matter of being repulsed by what has been commanded of them. If the curse controls you then it does not matter what you have been told to do. You will attempt to comply without a thought otherwise."

Harry shuddered, feeling sick.

"Will that man be okay?" Harry asked.

"He will be," Professor Snape said. "Greyback will have no need of him, and no reason to maintain the curse now."

They arrived at the professor's office.

"Have a seat," Professor Snape said, opening his storeroom.

"Oh," Harry said. "Actually, it's getting late. I shouldn't stay."

"We have much to discuss," Professor Snape said, returning with a vial that he handed to Harry. Harry downed the potion after a moment’s pause as his stomach churned with nerves.

"There's really nothing, Sir," Harry said, slightly panicked. "I understand, I really do. You didn't sign up for anything and you don't owe me anything and you don't need to worry about me or anything. I'm fine really."

"You do not understand," Professor Snape said. "You left before you could understand. 'Merlin no,' was not an indictment against you. It was the realization that I had… It was an indictment of how I had treated you for two years, for the eleven years of not knowing you. I did not handle well the realization that I had so horribly transgressed against my own blood."

Harry swallowed a lump in his throat as he tried to understand what the professor had said. Part of him tried to hope and he tried vainly to squash it down. He was so weak.

"But what does that mean for… us?" Harry asked.

"I had given you every reason to never tell me," Professor Snape said. "Why did you seek me out this year?"

"I just wanted to get to know you better," Harry shrugged, feeling exceptionally vulnerable. "And then I liked you; I don't know… Then I thought, maybe there could be… more. Like, family stuff, maybe. I thought maybe you'd want to… like… take me in or something. Not that I'd expect you to, or you should feel obligated or anything. You don't owe me anything."

Professor Snape studied him for a while.

"You should really sit down, Harry," Professor Snape said steadily.

Harry paused a moment, not sure where he stood. He eyed the appropriate chair warily before taking it. Professor Snape started to roll up his left sleeve.

"If that is what you would like then I find I must be straight forward with you," Professor Snape said. "Do you know what this is?" he asked brandishing his left forearm.

Harry saw a faint but ugly tattoo of a snake poking out of the eye socket of a skull.

"It has to do with Voldemort?" Harry asked.

Professor Snape winced but nodded.

"This is his mark," Professor Snape said. "The mark he gave his followers."

"But you were really working for Professor Dumbledore," Harry said. "Like a spy."

"I became a spy, yes," Professor Snape said. "But I joined the Dark Lord first. I followed the Dark Lord first. I was faithful to him."

"So you joined him to…" Harry let the question hang.

"To feel powerful," Professor Snape said softly. "To feel safe," he said with a derisive laugh. "To feel like I had a future. To be a part of something greater than myself. I don't really know anymore. It doesn't matter in the end, does it? I joined him and I served."

Harry swallowed hard and looked at the desk that was between them.

"How did that work out for you?" Harry asked.

"The Dark Lord's promises are but lies," Professor Snape said, and Harry nodded. "But realizing that was not enough. Realizing he was evil was not enough. When I took his mark I bound myself to him. There was no leaving his service. Nowhere to hide where he could not find me. I had resigned myself to dying in his service long before I entered the headmaster's."

"Do you believe the pureblood stuff?" Harry asked.

"No," Professor Snape said. "I never believed that. I believed in heritage, but not blood. Yet when I was younger… Everything was about sides. Before the Dark Lord made his first appearance, had truly started, before I had left Hogwarts, the Dark Lord's envoys painted a glorious picture of a new era for the wizarding world. We were stagnant, they said. We were falling. There were those who would destroy us and it was up to us to stop them. They wanted me to help them bring about their glorious future. They promised me a place in that world."

"What made you change sides?" Harry asked.

"Your mother." Professor Snape said.

"You still loved her?" Harry asked.

"I never stopped," Professor Snape said.

"But you fought against her in the war," Harry said.

"I had thought I could protect her," Professor Snape said. "She was a ward breaker, she wasn't supposed to fight. I had thought I could protect her once the Dark Lord won, if I was one of his favored. This was before he had made clear his plans to kill all muggleborns. Blood purity was certainly a part of his manifesto, that purebloods should only marry purebloods, but that was not the stated goal of his world vision. He always spoke of the old ways. His recruiters promised a revival of the old magics. Of the days when great feats of magic were performed. Whose relics we now covet and do not understand. The days before the ministry banned the Dark Arts and tightly controlled ritual casting. Before tomes of power were hidden away by the old families and restrictions were made on what could be taught or practiced centuries gone."

"You sound like you still believe in all that," Harry accused.

"I do," Professor Snape said. "There is a wonder I cannot describe in the bare scraps of magic that I was able to obtain while in his service. But it wasn't worth it. None of it was worth serving him. None of it would have been worth the blood that he spilled in rivers across our world. Besides, I believed in boundless discovery. The Dark Lord's power was for the chosen few."

"You didn't care about the blood stuff though?" Harry asked. "You didn't care what he said about my mum?"

"I am a halfblood myself," Professor Snape said before he paused. "I ignored it at first. I had heard such talk for a long time in Slytherin house, I was good at ignoring it. I knew that the old families who still coveted the old ways walked hand in hand with the blood purists. It was all bilge, but I was used to hearing it, I was used to ignoring it. As I made in roads to the powerful houses that held the knowledge I craved, I got used to ignoring a lot. They had been saying those things for generations, and they would be saying them for generations to come. It was part of the package, and I didn't take it seriously. It was their vision, not mine. All I had to do was prove that I was worthy of the knowledge that they had. That I deserved that power. That I was one of them."

"So you changed sides when you realized Voldemort would kill my mother?" Harry asked.

"I changed sides when your mother blasted down the door of the manor house I was delivering a potion to," Professor Snape said. "There was a battle, the Dark Lord himself was there. I saw her get taken down by a serious curse. Potter got her out of there, but that was the day I knew I could not go on as I was. I would later learn that that was the third time your mother had come face to face with the Dark Lord. I had been convinced before then that the Dark Lord would win. It seemed that the writing was on the wall. But I knew then and there that I would do anything to see your mother safe. I knew she never would be while the Dark Lord was alive."

"So you became a spy?" Harry asked.

Professor Snape nodded.

"I think I can…" Harry began.

"I haven't finished," Professor Snape said.

"Sir?" Harry asked.

"This has just been to explain how it began," Professor Snape said tiredly. "That was not my confession."

"O-ok," Harry said, waiting for the professor to continue warily.

"I still needed to act the loyal Death Eater," Professor Snape said. "The Dark Lord has a way of knowing when you lie, a way of seeing into one's mind. There are ways to protect the mind, but the best way to be certain is to lie as little as possible, to hide lies within truths. I was one of many Death Eaters tasked to spy for the Dark Lord and I happened to be tasked to spy on the Headmaster one day as he was meeting a purported seer in Hogsmeade. The woman was ridiculous, she was obviously a charlatan. I was soon convinced that she was wasting the Headmaster's time. I thought I would have nothing to report, but I was wrong."

"As the headmaster got up to leave, the woman went into a trance and began prophesying," Professor Snape said. "I was discovered listening outside the door before I could hear the entire thing and was soon summoned to the Dark Lords side. He wanted to know what I had learned."

"I had had no time to discuss the matter with the headmaster, but I thought then that there was no need," the Professor said. "The woman was a fraud, the words she had uttered were useless. I did not want to lie to the Dark Lord and so I came up with a way to trick the Dark Lord. To bring about his destruction with truths. I thought to make the Dark Lord believe that the prophesy was real, to sell it to him as valid, for indeed, it involved him. The prophesy gave a set of qualifiers to identify someone who was a threat to the Dark Lord. They were so ridiculous that I thought surely no one could truly match the description. I had thought that the Headmaster could manufacture someone, someone who would appear to fit this description and a trap could be set. A trap that would see an end to the Dark Lord. I convinced the Dark Lord that it was real. That there was this threat to him, and I did not stop to think of what would could come of it."

"Was it a real prophesy?" Harry asked, already knowing the answer.

"Yes," Professor Snape said.

"Did Voldemort kill them?" Harry asked. "Would they have killed Voldemort if you hadn't said anything, is that what the rest of the prophesy was about?" Harry wondered if Voldemort would have been dead before he could have gotten to Harry's parents if things had been different.

"The Dark Lord did not kill him," Professor Snape said. "The Dark Lord killed his parents before having his own curse rebound against him."

Harry looked up at the professor speechless. He shook his head.

"Me?" Harry asked. "The prophecy was about me? All he wanted was me? He killed them because he wanted me?"

Professor Snape only nodded.

"No," Harry said. "That shouldn't… No… You… That doesn't make any sense! You were trying to protect her. You loved her. You…" Harry stopped talking, realizing that none of that was contradicted by what he had just been told. The universe was not fair. The universe didn't work on 'should's.

"It's not fair," Harry said angrily. "It's not right. Why didn't you save her?! Why didn't you save my parents?! Weren't you spying for their side?"

"I warned the headmaster," Professor Snape said. "I begged him to get her into hiding. I told him there was a spy close to them, I just didn't know who he was. I thought she would be safe under the strongest of wards."

"But they weren't," Harry said angrily. "They were betrayed."

"Yes," Professor Snape said. "They were."

Harry closed his eyes, too many could-have-beens flashing in his mind.

"Was that everything?" Harry asked.

"Everything?" Professor Snape asked.

"Everything you had to tell me?" Harry asked.

"Yes," Professor Snape said. "Yes, that's everything."

Harry nodded.

"I need to go now professor," Harry said. "It's almost curfew."

He didn't run this time. Professor Snape didn't try to stop him.


IIIIIIIIIIIIIIII


Deep in the woods, Peter waited. 'It should have worked,' he thought. Yet he was not free. He was waiting for Greyback.