The struggle with Pettigrew had made the pain from Snape's own injuries worse, but there was little to do about it now.

Potter glanced around the room, his eyes falling on the column and the ropes that had bound him, and shuddered. "Do we have to stay here?"

Severus considered it. If this house was somehow protecting them by hiding them from the Death Eaters' view, there was every reason to stay. But what if the illusions somehow failed? They would be incredibly exposed…not to mention that his charge would not do well remaining in the room where he'd been tied up, hexed, and beaten like an animal.

Rage coursed through Severus, so intense that it startled him, but the savage thoughts would not be suppressed. I should have killed Pettigrew when I had the chance. Or at least hit him with something suitably painful.

And there was also the question of whether the illusions would keep the werewolf out. Glancing at Potter, he stood up. "Wait here. I'll have a look aroun—" The expression on the boy's face made him pause. On second thought, leaving him alone would not be a good idea, and that had only partly to do with the possibility of Pettigrew returning. "On your feet, then. Stay behind me."

To his relief, Potter's injuries did not seem to prevent him from walking, so Severus led the way around the ancient, barren walls, searching for any sign of what this place was and whether it would make a suitable shelter.

Potter stayed close, his eyes scouring their surroundings in the light of Snape's wand, never saying a word. Severus astonished himself yet again by wishing fervently for the old, obnoxious Harry Potter, up to and including his arrogance. That brat was at least familiar and manageable. This frightened child was evoking thoughts and impulses that Severus did not understand, and liked even less. But after the night's events, what else was to be expected?

Their search of the house, upstairs and downstairs, revealed nothing of use. No signs of the source of the magic that filled this place, no tools they could use, and worse, no water. Growing concerned about Potter, both the dehydration and his reaction to this place (anyone who did not know the boy well might not have seen his suppressed fear, but Severus did) Severus considered. "Where's Pettigrew?" Potter asked.

Severus frowned, having already told him, then recalled the boy's state of mind at the time and said, "After leaving the house, he could not seem to see it anymore. This place may shield us from him and other searchers." Potter still looked resistant to remaining here, but at the moment it seemed to be wiser than venturing out into the night—there was a thump.

Potter froze, and Severus grabbed his arm, drawing his wand. "What—" the boy began, but then they both saw the source of the thumping. A large, stone chest resting against a wall was rattling slightly as if its occupant had sensed the intruders.

Severus motioned Potter behind him and aimed a spell at the chest, knocking the lid off. From within it stepped a black-robed wizard in a white mask, and Potter backed up hurriedly. Severus hesitated; it seemed odd that a Death Eater would lie there in wait…the other wizard removed his mask, and for a moment, coherent thought deserted Severus.

The face behind the Death Eater's mask was his own.

He heard Potter's shaky intake of breath behind him, and struggled to make his brain function again. The Death Eater, Severus Snape, peered past the real Snape at the boy behind him and smiled coldly, raising its own wand. "Cru—"

"Riddikulus!" Severus shouted frantically as Potter flinched.

The Boggart stumbled, but neither changed nor vanished. Severus never had been able to get rid of the bloody things—Potter stepped in front of him. "Mine's a Dementor," he muttered, and Severus handed him the wand.

Snape the Death Eater paused, then changed…but not into a Dementor.

Potter cried out and recoiled, and even Severus gasped: it was the Dark Lord, his eyes glowing red with malice as he stood before a scattered mass of bodies. Dazed, Severus recognized them all:

Hermione Granger, Ginny Weasley—multiple Weasleys, in fact—Remus Lupin, Dumbledore, McGonagall, Neville Longbottom…and by the throat, the Dark Lord held one remaining, living victim, who was struggling in terror. It was Ron Weasley. The Dark Lord aimed his wand directly at the red-headed boy's heart and hissed, "Avada Kedavra!"

Sensing that they were both outmatched by this Boggart, Severus grabbed Potter around the chest and hauled him bodily out the door. "There's nothing here of use to us. We're leaving."

Potter's breathing hitched, but he said nothing. They still had several hours until dawn. Severus took him in the opposite direction from the one Pettigrew had gone, and to his surprise, Potter kept up well. First it surprised, then it concerned him; the boy should have the sense to speak up if their pace of climbing and walking was too much. He had only recently been tortured, not to mention violently ill. But he did not speak, so Severus was forced to keep a close watch on his efforts and judge when best to slow down. It was frustrating, sensing the boy was struggling and not saying, but on the other hand, Severus could not help feeling…a sense of grudging respect.

Harry Potter was stubborn, without doubt, but Severus Snape of all people knew there was not a very great difference between stubbornness and strength. And despite being tied up and tortured by the same wizard who'd resurrected his parents' murderer, Potter had defied Pettigrew. Perhaps there was another reason the boy had survived his encounters with the Dark Lord after all.

WHAT are you suggesting, man!

When he felt they had gone a safe distance without signs of pursuit, Severus performed a Seek Spell, this time for water. Potter didn't ask what he was looking for, which was fine with Severus because he did not want the boy dwelling on his thirst. But the Spell was leading them, giving Severus the first real hope he'd felt in ages, that perhaps there was water to be found on this rock.

After a time, Potter began to visibly falter, and Severus silently put an arm around his shoulders to support him as they walked. He considered simply carrying him, but Potter seemed to be managing for now, and in all honesty, he wasn't certain he himself would manage it. While his own situation was not so precarious as the boy's, it was growing harder to ignore his own injuries.

Still, they kept on, until Potter broke the silence and startled Severus into stopping. "I smell water."

Severus straightened and eyed the Seek Spell. It did appear to be slowing. "Then hope it's drinkable. Come on."

It felt as though they had circled the entire bloody mountain, but when they picked their way around a final outcropping, Severus mused that this must be how men lost in the desert felt when they encountered an oasis. The sight of a small stream running silently (odd, that, very odd) down the mountainside to form a shallow pool before trickling down into another cave seemed to lift all weariness and pain from him. Obviously, it had the same effect on Potter, for the boy let out a heavy sigh and would have gone straight to the water if Severus hadn't stopped him.

"Wait here." After everything else he'd seen in this place, he was not going to trust this new, too-convenient reprieve. He pulled one of the empty potion vials from his robe, spelled it clean, and filled it with water, then aimed his wand at it. "Aperio Periculum!"

The water in the vial began to glow softly white, until it resembled the Phial of Galadriel, but Severus saw no flickers of red, black, or green. The water was pure. "Is it safe?" Potter asked softly from behind him.

"Yes. Go on, but drink slowly," Severus told him, and swallowed the water in the vial before joining the boy at the pool's edge.

Potter was visibly restraining himself from gulping it, but dipped it out with his hand and sipped, his eyes closed in relief. Severus frowned at the bruises on his wrists before drinking more himself. The water was perfectly cold and clean, the most blissful thing he had tasted in a very long time. He scowled at the silvery rocks surrounding him. What kind of game was this bloody mountain playing with them?

Before he had time to contemplate further, sounds brought both of them leaping to their feet, the bliss of the water forgotten. People were clambering over the rocks—more than one. Voices drifted through the cold air, irritated, frightened voices. Definitely not Aurors. And they were close.

"Come on," Snape hissed, grabbing Potter's shoulders and pulling him back away from the water. He thought of retreating into the small cave where the water was running, but its entrance was too visible; Death Eaters would look there. They scrambled back the way they had came, hurrying around the outcropping…only to find themselves mere yards away from a werewolf.

Potter gasped as Severus yanked him backwards. Shit. Oh shit. The werewolf let out a yelp—as surprised by them as they were by it, apparently—and shouts rang out near the pool.

"I heard something! Go! Go!"

"Keep up, Pettigrew!" The werewolf's ears pricked at hearing the noises, then it gathered itself, and Severus dispensed with stealth as scrambling footsteps came toward them from the opposite direction.

"MOVE!" He threw Potter to the ground and himself across the boy as the werewolf sprang, but to both of their astonishment the creature went right past them to meet the group of black-robed wizards who were just then coming around the rocks in search of them.

The air filled with the werewolf's snarls and shrieks of panic from the Death Eaters. Severus heard the sounds of robes tearing (among other things) and one scream taking on a much wilder tone, and didn't wait; he yanked Potter to his feet and hauled the boy with him over the rocks, back to the pool side. They slid down, completely ignored by the fleeing Death Eaters, and landed in the water. Severus grunted as pain lanced through his side. Sputtering and coughing, Potter scrambled to his feet and held out a hand. Severus took it, staggered upright with the boy's help, and they stumbled together into the other cave. If the Death Eaters were preoccupied, they might not see their quarry coming in here. And the werewolf might just be preoccupied all the way back to the Forest.

The cave where the stream ran was no larger than a closet, with the water trickling off into the rocks, but it served its purpose enough. Severus pushed Potter in front of him against the wall, muttered a quick drying spell on them both, then they huddled there listening to the agonized screams and feral growls as the Dark Lord's followers fled the werewolf.

He could feel the boy's heart pounding against his arm, but Potter did not make a sound as the ruckus gradually faded. When silence had hung for several moments, Severus moved, gritting his teeth against his throbbing wounds, but motioned the boy to stay where he was. Then he crept carefully to the small mouth of the cave and peered out.

The werewolf was there, drinking from the pool. Severus hastily pulled back and shook his head at Potter's questioning look. They weren't going anywhere, it appeared, and when that thing found them…he stayed in front of Potter and watched the entrance. Not that his wand would do much good, but perhaps if he could buy the boy time to get out—and yet how far would Potter get, in his condition?

Potter was pressed up against his back, peering over his shoulder, when the inevitable sight greeted them of the werewolf sniffing its way to the entrance of their dubious shelter, blocking the moonlight. Severus put a hand over the boy's mouth and waited.

The creature stood there, staring at them, but did not attack. Perhaps it had eaten its fill of Death Eaters or…what was it waiting for?

The werewolf whined softly, tilting its head and looking, not at Severus, but past him…at Potter. The boy pulled his face out from behind Snape's hand, and Severus did not stop him. It did not seem possible, but… "Remus?" Potter whispered.

The werewolf nodded its head. "Lupin?" Severus demanded. Another nod. Then it turned and left the cave.

Potter squirmed past Severus. "Remus, wait!" he called.

"Potter, slow down!" Severus said, pulling him back before cautiously exiting the cave. The boy was practically hopping to get to the werewolf, which had returned to the side of the pool. Severus met its strangely-calm gaze and said, "You've kept your mind, then?"

The werewolf nodded, but moved away when Potter tried to approach it, obviously not wanting to risk being close to the boy even while lucid. "Do you think it's this mountain?" Potter asked.

"More than likely," Severus replied, returning to the water's edge. He noticed Potter rubbing his wrists. "Has the feeling returned?"

"A little. They're still…clumsy," he muttered, awkwardly trying to pick up a stone.

Severus filled the empty vial and muttered a Warming Spell on it, then motioned Potter over. The heat would at least increase the blood circulation. The boy hissed as the hot water flowed over his hands, but held still. Severus released him and turned his attention to his own injuries once Potter had gone to drink again. Conjuring some bandages, he attempted to clean and wrap his side and shoulder while the boy's back was turned, but Potter glanced at him and froze when he saw the bloody, bruised flesh where the curses had struck.

"You're hurt!"

"Of course I am, you idiot, I've fought five duels in twenty-four hours," Severus muttered, binding the wounds as best he could. That took care of the visible hurts, but breathing had been growing more painful in the past few hours, and some of the bruising from hexes and falling rocks in the first cave was, he suspected, more serious.

But now Potter was watching him more closely. "It's bad," he said softly.

"I'm aware of that," he growled. He disliked the child's concerned words, more so because they were genuine.

"Is there anything—"

"No, damn it, there is nothing you, I, or anyone else can do under present circumstances," Severus snapped. "Now mind your own—"

The werewolf growled from the other side of the pool. Severus glowered, expecting that Lupin was annoyed with his harshness toward Potter, but the werewolf was looking in another direction. It turned and pointed a paw very deliberately at the cave, then looked back off down the mountainside again. "Remus?" Potter whispered.

The creature looked more urgently at them. "Come on," said Severus, dragging himself to his feet and motioning Potter toward the cave. "I suspect we've got company." They slipped into the cramped shelter as the werewolf went to stand directly in front of it. The creature's howl made them both wince as it reverberated through the small space. That ought to discourage them from investigating in this direction, Severus thought snidely. He'd never imagined himself appreciating Lupin's alter-ego.

At the moment, the werewolf was drinking loudly from the pool, howling at the moon occasionally, letting any curious Death Eaters know of its presence.

"Get comfortable, Potter," Severus told the boy. "We'll wait out the remainder of the night." Truth be told, he wasn't sure how much more he would be able to move around.

Fortunately, the boy didn't argue, but sat back against the cave wall, dipping his fingers idly in the stream. "Remus is guarding us."

"I know." He ran his head through spells to diagnose or treat internal injuries and shock. Nothing that would work out here in these conditions without a potion. He closed his eyes and took a painful breath, then opened them and saw Potter watching him. No sense delaying the inevitable. "Come dawn, Mr. Potter, you and Lupin must continue."

"Contin—without you! Leave you here?" the boy looked more resistant to the idea than Severus had expected.

"Yes," he said wearily. "I will not be able to travel swiftly, and the two of you must get off this mountain as quickly as possible so Dumbledore can find you."

"We can't leave you!" Potter protested.

"Damn it," Severus hissed, wincing at the pain in his side. "Drop the bloody Gryffindor hero complex for once!" The boy winced. "You must get out of here alive, Potter, and I can no longer aid you!"

Potter pulled his knees up to his chest and avoided Snape's eyes. "It's not a 'hero complex,'" he muttered. "It's just…we shouldn't leave one of our people behind."

"I will only slow you down."

"You saved me!" the boy protested.

"And not merely to have you tracked down and killed because you did not have the sense to cut your losses," Severus snapped. Potter looked genuinely stricken, why, he could not imagine. In a calmer voice, he informed him, "I told you before you must learn to master your emotions, Potter. That includes this mad idea that you must rescue every person you meet."

To his surprise, Potter smiled wanly. "A 'saving people thing.' That's what Hermione calls it," he murmured, looking away.

"For once, Miss Granger has shown real insight. You'd do well to heed her."

"You're wrong. She's wrong."

"Potter—"

"It's not! I mean, not a…hero thing. I don't…I didn't…" the boy shook his head, resting his chin on his knees. "You don't understand."

"Then explain it," Severus said shortly. "Why do you insist on these damn fool jaunts to single-handedly rescue every person in difficulty rather than relying on people trained to do it?"

Potter looked directly at him, his eyes bright with some emotion Severus could not identify. "Have you ever been a prisoner before?" he dropped his eyes, but they were still intense. "I mean…I know you were…trapped, doing things you didn't want…as a spy, but have you ever been…locked up? Or tied up?"

Severus stared at him, comprehending in spite of himself, recalling the boy's near-hysteria when he'd cut him loose after chasing off Pettigrew. "I don't like being tied up." So that was it.

And he heard himself say, "No. Other than willingly taking up the role of an infiltrator, I have never been held against my will."

The boy looked away and muttered, "Did you ever wish…someone would make it stop? Someone would come help you so you wouldn't have to…go to him anymore?"

"I did not have time to think of such things," he replied curtly. "Not if I wanted to survive. What is your point? You were engaging in ridiculous escapades long before the Triwizard Tournament." His heart wasn't really in the debate anymore, but it gave him something to think about other than the burning pain in his insides and the increasing weakness in his whole body.

"I know, Hermione pointed that out. It was stupid, but…I wasn't trying to be heroic, I just…ten years," Potter whispered, closing his eyes. Severus looked sharply at him. He opened his eyes and explained, "I spent ten years locked up, wishing someone would come for me. I thought I'd always be there, in the cupboard. Then Hagrid came." He took a deep breath and looked away.

Against his will, Severus found himself running through the memories he had seen in Occlumency in his head. The boy in the cupboard, the many locks on the bedroom door…Severus remembered the vague echo of emotion from those old memories he had uncovered, a sense of hopeless longing…

With an effort, he shook it off. "And how does this lead you to attempt to single-handedly protect everyone yourself?" he asked. He did not like thinking about this, it was too disturbing, but something was compelling him to probe further.

Potter's face was bleak. "You don't know what it's like. Alone, trapped…when Wormtail killed Cedric and tied me up, I…I wished anyone would come, anyone at all. The police, even. Just someone…I dream about it, wishing and wishing for help and no one comes. I…I couldn't leave Sirius like that!"

"You left, even though you had given me the message," Severus remarked.

He would not have thought it possible, but the boy curled up into an even smaller ball, his forehead pressed into his knees. "I thought you wouldn't do anything," he groaned. "I thought you didn't care."

"I am a member of the Order," Severus said indignantly. "You should have trusted me to—"

Potter raised his head, green eyes flashing, his face pinched as though in physical pain. "After everything that'd happened that year, why should I have trusted you to help Sirius, of all people?" he hissed bitterly. "And I—I—couldn't—he's—he was—I couldn't just wait—couldn't stand that happening to him!"

Severus sighed heavily, wincing as his side protested. "Potter, the Order exists for a reason. Going into a situation without backup—and your friends do not count as such—is dangerous both to you and the person you are aiming to help."

"I know that now," the boy sighed. "Just too late for Sirius."

"For God's sake, Black is…" Severus broke off. Potter glanced up at him. Appalled at his carelessness, Severus said slowly, "Black was a capable dueler. You are not the direct cause of…what happened. You have seen since that we are at war. Those who fight it always risk death."

Potter did not seem very comforted, but Severus was busy cursing himself for the almost-slip of the tongue that might have sent the child into complete hysterics. Besides, you don't know for a fact that Black is alive. Lupin was right; the Dark Lord has probably killed him by now.

More appalling to him still was the fact that he found himself wishing it were not so, for Potter's sake. He justified it by considering that the boy would be far easier to manage if Black were to return.

"Why did you call Sirius a coward?" Potter asked suddenly, staring at him. "You knew he wasn't."

Here at least, they were on familiar territory. Severus made no bones about replying bluntly. "And Black knew I was not a Death Eater. Do not try to hold him blameless for our quarrel, boy, you saw precisely what the man got up to."

Potter winced. "I'm sorry for that, the Pensieve, I mean. I didn't realize it was something personal." He didn't look at Severus, which was a good thing, because Severus was flat-out gaping at him.

"What on earth did you think it was, then!"

"I…something about the Order, I suppose. Or what was in the Department of Myst…" he shook his head. "I was just tired of being kept in the dark."

Severus shifted, trying to ease the pain in his burning side, and asked curtly, "Why didn't you leave once you discovered it was not?"

Potter's pale face flushed, and he bit his lip. "I…I saw my father. I forgot…I just wanted to see him…alive…what he'd been like. I didn't know."

Severus scowled at the cave entrance, at the shadow of Lupin-the-werewolf moving around outside. Damn the boy for apologizing, for explaining himself! And damn the whole bloody thing for making so much sense. Damn it, he didn't want to understand Harry Potter! Then his side distracted him with an intense stab of pain that made him gasp. Potter jumped. "Are you—"

"No, but there is nothing either of us can do about it," Severus retorted through clenched teeth. "Whatever your sensitivities say against it, leave me in the morning when Lupin returns."

"We—"

"Potter!" he snapped, wincing at the pain. "Do not argue with me in this!"

The boy was breathing hard, staring at him with anxious eyes. Why did Potter care about his fate anyway? But before Severus could wonder further, Potter blurted, "Isn't there any way we could get help to come to us?"

Severus closed his eyes and leaned back against the cave wall. "Dumbledore is tracking me by means of another torch—or at least we intended to do so. Whether he can find me on this mountain is another matter; all he is likely to know is that I am alive for the moment. And apparating is impossible from here." And he wouldn't have the strength to do it now if it did prove possible. He was growing light-headed.

"But if we could signal them somehow…" Potter mused, chewing on his lip as he glanced at the cave mouth. There was more light coming in; dawn was approaching. Severus wondered idly if he would be conscious to see it. It might well be his last sunrise.

"Your owl will not be able to find us here," he told Potter. "The magic concealing this place is older than the Four Founders."

"I wasn't thinking of owls…" Potter looked at him. "What about Fawkes?"

"Perhaps, but how do you propose to signal…oh." Severus broke off. Come to think of it. Perhaps the torch and the Phoenix would be enough to guide the Headmaster to their location. His side was so painful it took his breath, and he felt off-balance, closing his eyes. "If you wish to try it," he told the boy vaguely, "then I suggest…you do."

After that, he knew nothing more.

"Severus? Severus, can you hear me?" A familiar, comforting voice—one of the only comforting voices Severus Snape knew of—pulled him gently out of a well of black velvet. "Wake up, Severus. It's time to go home."

His side ached, but his insides no longer burned, and breathing was easier. It also felt as if someone had dressed his injuries. He dragged his eyes open to meet a pair of twinkling blue ones behind half-moon spectacles. "Albus."

The headmaster smiled and patted his hand. Severus Snape was not the sort of man who could be moved by words; flattery fell flat with him, as did criticism or cajoling. But there were three in Albus Dumbledore's vocabulary alone that could reach him like nothing else.

"Well done, Severus."

Taking a deep breath, he let the headmaster help him sit up. They were beside the pool on the mountainside. The sun was only just over the horizon. It had been an hour, maybe two.

"Potter?" he began, but looking around, he saw the boy sitting a few yards away as Madam Pomfrey fussed over him. Someone had wrapped an Auror robe around him—Tonks, Severus noticed, seeing the Metamorphmagus kneeling beside Potter. Also sitting with the boy was Dumbledore's Phoenix, singing softly. Lupin appeared recovered from the night's trials and was talking with several other Aurors, all Order members, and they were all glancing apprehensively at the dark, hulking pyramid of the Fortress of Shadows, rising above the Forest like a mockery of the silver mountain upon which they stood.

A ways down the mountain's slope was a carriage, drawn by Granians. "We left as soon as our diversion ended," Dumbledore told him, helping him to his feet. "Finding you with our own torch was difficult, but Fawkes suddenly joined us in the carriage, and between the two of us, we managed it."

"So Potter called him?" Severus concluded. The Phoenix fluttered along over their heads; he had never had much interest in Severus, like so many others who served Dumbledore.

"Remus helped too," said Potter. He looked everywhere but at Severus.

Dumbledore went on. "Harry sent up red sparks as soon as he saw Fawkes. He was very worried," he remarked, smiling at Severus. "He would not allow us to take him back to Hogwarts until we were certain you could be moved."

Lupin went to help the boy to his feet. "Come on, Harry. Let's get out of here."

Har—Potter laughed weakly. "Yes, please, let's." He seemed very weary, and there were more bruises on his face that Severus had not seen in the darkness the night before, but other than that, he appeared well on the mend.

Lupin had an arm around his shoulders, and Potter leaned gratefully against him until they reached the carriage and were ushered inside. The interior had been enlarged, making it perfectly comfortable for ten people to sit in the seats. Severus wound up sitting on the opposite seat from Dumbledore, Lupin, and Potter.

Tonks sat on one side of the boy, Lupin on the other, and Potter's head was already on the werewolf's shoulder. "Remus?" he murmured suddenly, his eyes half-lidded. "I meant to…I'm sorry about…Hogsmeade. It was stupid." Severus felt very odd at hearing that confession, for reasons he couldn't quite pinpoint.

Lupin sighed and pulled the boy closer. "I'm glad you're sorry. You frightened us. Just promise me, Harry. Promise me you won't sneak out again. Not while we're at war, and while you're a target. We, Ron, Hermione, your other friends, and I…we couldn't bear losing you."

Drowsily, the boy nodded. "I promise." Lupin gave his shoulders a squeeze.

"So much for professional detachment," Severus couldn't resist remarking.

For some reason, he could not seem to muster the acidity to make the words sting as he usually intended them to. "Sod off, Severus," Lupin said cheerfully.

The Aurors talked among themselves and with Albus as the carriage rose into the air. Severus did not wish to look out at either the mountain or the Fortress, and instead found himself watching the boy's steady march into sleep. Tonks was fondly rubbing his back as he leaned against Lupin, green eyes drooping lower every second. "They say you stayed yourself last night, Remus," she murmured.

Lupin nodded, careful not to disturb the boy on his shoulder. "That's among several things I can't explain. What is that mountain, Albus?" he asked softly.

The headmaster looked out the window for a moment. "No one precisely knows. What is known is that of the many who fled imprisonment in the Fortress of Shadows throughout history, those who managed to reach the mountain were able to escape. It is a haven."

"Pettigrew was able to get onto the mountain," Severus mused. "Even to take Potter. But I heard him say he could not find his way back off the mountain with the boy."

"Hmm. Interesting. And the two of you were able to shelter in a building which became invisible to Pettigrew, Harry tells me?"

"Yes. And we found water at the moment when we were most in need of it." Severus looked at the sky through the window. There were other things he had noticed on the mountain too…impressions, sensations…emotions, things that were alien to him but which he had not been able to avoid.

Albus was watching him. He then glanced sideways at Potter, who was now completely oblivious to the conversation, and smiled. "Of all the accounts I have read of those fortunate survivors," he said softly. "Another universal observation is that no one leaves the mountain unchanged."

Severus blinked. That bloody…all-knowing…why was he surprised? Albus knew everything! Of course, he would have sensed immediately that something had passed between Severus and Potter not at all like their usual vitriolic exchanges. He shot the headmaster a warning look and dropped his gaze—only to find himself looking at Potter again.

Lupin had conjured a pillow and shifted the boy into his lap without even waking him. Sound asleep, Potter was unaware of Snape's discomfited scrutiny.

It felt as though they had all been gone from Hogwarts for much longer than forty-eight hours. Severus found it highly disconcerting that he could not reconcile the Potter who had been the bane of his existence for five years with the battered, shaken child who had, for the most part, kept it together through all that had happened last night. It was not the sort of courage Severus expected to find in a Gryffindor.

Dumbledore's Phoenix flew through the window just then and settled himself on the floor of the carriage. Then, to everyone except Albus's surprise, he stopped at Snape's feet, trilling cheerfully at him.

Severus blinked, startled. Fawkes had never done that before.