Dear Sirius,

I hope this reaches you and I hope you’re alright. I haven’t seen anything in the Prophet, so I’m assuming you haven’t been caught. I hope you managed to have a decent Christmas. Had to be better than mine in any case.

Draco Malfoy was killed Christmas day at the Yule Ball. Somehow Death Eaters got into the school. He died protecting me. To top it off, after the funeral, some Slytherins threw me in the lake as revenge for Draco’s death. I almost didn’t make it but Mr. Malfoy saved me, Mr. Malfoy and Professor Snape. Mr. Malfoy pulled me from the lake and Professor Snape got me warm.

He’s been really great, Professor Snape, I mean. I think…I think he might actually care about me, even just a little bit. It’s…nice. He’s good to me, he’s taken care of me. He listens to me. It’s different from any other adult I’ve had in my life, especially compared to the Dursleys.

The Second Task is next month and I’ve figured out what it is, but not what to do. How do I hold my breath underwater for an hour?

I hope to hear from you soon.

Harry

Harry sighed and put the letter in an envelope, handing it to Hedwig. She hooted and rubbed against his hand before taking off. Harry watched her fly until he could no longer see her. He turned his gaze from the sky and watched a group of students make their way across the grounds. He glanced across at the restored Quidditch Pitch where a couple people were casually flying around.

He sighed again. He missed Quidditch and flying. The tournament had cancelled out Quidditch that year. Though he missed it, he wasn’t sure how much he really wanted to fly. It brought up memories of both Ron and Draco, and those memories were painful now.

He shook his head and pushed away from the railing, leaving the Astronomy Tower. He needed to go to the library and find a way to survive the Second Task. He went down the spiral staircase and, shoving his hands in his pockets, made his way through the corridors.

He found himself stumbling backwards as he ran into something solid.

“Alright, Mr. Potter?” Mr. Malfoy said, looking down at the young Gryffindor.

“Oh, Mr. Malfoy, sorry,” Harry said. “I obviously wasn’t looking.”

“I’ll admit to being a touch preoccupied as well,” the man said.

Harry nodded, figuring he was referring to Draco. “What are you doing here?”

“I am visiting Professor Snape and collecting Draco’s things.”

A stab of pain went through Harry’s heart.

“Did saving me interrupt your visit yesterday?”

“Not at all,” Mr. Malfoy said, shaking his head. “I frequently visit as it is. I am simply taking comfort in an old friend during this tragedy.”

“I’m sorry about Draco,” Harry said sincerely. “I know we never got along but we had been trying. I regret not having more time to get to know him. We may have been able to be friends.”

Mr. Malfoy smiled. “Walk with me?”

Harry was startled by the offer. “Sure.”

“I know Draco did not give a good first impression,” Mr. Malfoy said. “Perhaps you two could have been friends, but the fact cannot be hidden that he started things all wrong.”

Harry chuckled. “He knew how to make an impression.”

Mr. Malfoy nodded. “A skill he learned from me, I believe. Our first meeting was not much better.”

Harry flashed back to the summer before second year. He had met Mr. Malfoy in Flourish and Blotts and the man had been beyond intimidating. Not to mention the encounter ended with a fist fight between Mr. Malfoy and Mr. Weasley. He nodded to concede the man’s point.

“You were a popular topic with Draco,” Mr. Malfoy said. “It was quite irritating at times.”

Harry laughed again.

“We spoiled the boy,” the man continued. “Sometimes we focused more on that than teaching him essential skills such as patience and humility and empathy.”

“He seemed to have gained some of that this year,” Harry said. “After all, he approached me first. In fact, he’s part of the reason I was able to survive the First Task.”

“Despite what he showed the world, Draco wanted to help people. He probably would have been a Healer,” Mr. Malfoy said with a small smile. “This year has changed many things.”

“Like the fact that Voldemort is active again, gaining power?” Harry said and gained a hard look from the blonde. “I know you’re a Death Eater or were or whatever. I know you’ve got the Dark Mark. I have nightmares so I know about Voldemort.” He pointed to his scar and Mr. Malfoy frowned.

“How do you know that and what does your scar have to do with nightmares?”

“It wasn’t hard to determine when Moody forced Draco to name the Imperius Curse. It became even more obvious when Moody accused Draco of being one because of who his father is,” Harry said.

Mr. Malfoy sighed sadly. “I am still a Death Eater but I am not loyal. I haven’t been since Draco turned five and I was forced to sign a contract that essentially bound Draco to the fate of becoming a Death Eater at sixteen. I have no way out. My wife and I would be killed if I left. I have no options.”

“I’m guessing the Mark can be used against you?” Harry said and Mr. Malfoy nodded.

“It can kill us instantly if he so chooses.”

“Is there no way to remove the Mark or cancel its connection?”

“No way that’s been found. Maybe there is, but no one knows it yet.”

“Maybe someone should.”

Mr. Malfoy gave him a gentle smile. “It is an honourable idea, but no one is going to try find a way to help Death Eaters.”

“Maybe someone should,” Harry repeated. Mr. Malfoy pat his shoulder.

“The Mark was my choice and it is a choice I must live with,” Mr. Malfoy said. “Now what is this about your scar?”

Harry shrugged. “I don’t completely know. I’ve been doing a ton of research. The main thing I know is that I have some kind of physical connection to Voldemort and it’s because of my scar.”

“How do you figure?”

“I started having nightmares—visions, actually—of Voldemort in the summer. My scar started to hurt in the summer too. All around the same time Voldemort started acting and gaining power. It is not just a coincidence,” Harry explained.

“How is that possible?”

“That’s what I’ve been trying to figure out. It has something to do with Halloween. I think something happened when the Killing Curse backfired,” Harry said.

“I’ve never heard of such a thing.”

“Yeah, well, no one had ever heard of surviving the Killing Curse either.”

They fell quiet as Mr. Malfoy acknowledged the valid point.

“Well,” Harry said after a time, “I should get to the library. Homework and stuff.”

“Of course,” Mr. Malfoy said. “It was a pleasure to talk to you.”

“Yeah, you too,” Harry said and watched the man walk away. He had a bemused look on his face, slightly confused by the interaction they had just had. Would no one stay the same this year or was it the year for breaking misconceptions? He shook his head and headed to the library.

“You must be out of your mind,” Severus said, glaring at the headmaster. “What makes you think I even rank in the top twenty?”

“Severus, you know I do not make this choice,” Dumbledore said. “The chief told me who must be taken.”

“Then the chief is deluded.”

“You know they are never wrong.”

Severus huffed and crossed his arms, staring out the window.

“What I am curious about is how this has come to be.”

Severus glared again. “This is exactly what you wanted when you started the meetings.”

“I simply wanted you to understand each other and become civil. I never expected this.”

“Neither did I.” An image of a smiling black haired boy flitted through Severus' mind.

“Do you agree?” Dumbledore interrupted. “You must not tell him.”

“I know that,” Severus said. “And I don’t have much of a choice, do I?”

“No.”

“Very well.”

Harry sighed as he looked at the small calendar on Snape’s desk from his own. In the grand scheme, there wasn’t much time before he would be back with the Dursleys. He wouldn’t be able to use Sirius as a threat anymore. The Dursleys were dumb, but they would have come to assume by now that his godfather didn’t exist. They wouldn’t believe him about Sirius anymore.

He pretty much doesn’t exist to me either, he thought bitterly.

He would need supplies this summer if he wanted to survive, especially as he probably wouldn’t be getting much from the Weasleys this summer, not after Ron.

Are you really considering stealing from Snape? Ron’s voice said in disbelief.

I don’t have much choice, he thought back.

You could tell someone, Ron said.

No one will believe me, Harry thought sadly. I tried telling Dumbledore and he didn’t listen, just sent me back. No one ever believes me. No one cares.

He does, Ron’s voice said and then faded away as Harry glanced up at Snape who was wrapping up his lecture on Veritaserum. Not a potion they would brew until sixth year, but an important one to know about.

I don’t want to steal from him but I have to try if I want to live to see next year. He sighed to himself, trying to figure out a way to get into Snape’s stores. He had no idea he was the only one still sitting in the classroom.

“Mr. Potter.”

No response.

“Mr. Potter.”

Snape crossed his arms and raised an eyebrow.

“Potter!”

Finally, Harry started and looked at him.

“As thrilled as I would be if you were suddenly devoted to Potions,” Snape drawled sarcastically, “class has been dismissed.”

Harry’s eyes darted around the empty room and he flushed. “Oh! I’m sorry, sir.” He began to quickly pack his things away.

“I do hope this daydreaming did not affect your listening and note-taking,” Snape said.

Harry shook his head. “No, sir.”

Snape hummed, observing the boy with a slight frown. Something was bothering the child. “Is everything alright, Potter?”

“Hm? Oh, yeah, fine,” Harry said, pulling his bag onto his shoulder. “I’m fine. See you tomorrow, Professor.”

Snape nodded and watched the child leave curiously. Something was on the Gryffindor’s mind. It was too bad they didn’t meet until tomorrow. He frowned as he contemplated what could be troubling the teen. Granted, there were many things preoccupying the boy this year but this distraction was recent, had come on suddenly.

What could it be?

He would find out tomorrow.

Harry winced, but said nothing as he was harshly shoulder-checked and shoved into the wall. He glanced at the snickering Slytherins and shook his head, rubbing his shoulder. It was sure to bruise from the impact with the wall. It didn’t matter. He was used to it. The Slytherins were constantly at him since Draco’s death and he still had many from Gryffindor and the other houses after him for Ron.

He dropped his eyes to his feet as he walked, thinking of Ron. It was slightly easier to think about Ron now. It still sent searing pain through his heart but he didn’t tear up anymore. He sighed. Ron would’ve helped him get into Snape’s stores. Ron would’ve helped him figure out what to do for the Second Task. Ron would’ve helped him with all their violent classmates. Ron would’ve helped him figure out the deal with Moody.

Ron would’ve helped.

He shoved his hands in his pockets somewhat bitterly. Why did he have to lose everyone? No one else lost parents, mentors, godfathers, friends…

He had lost them all. He had no one.

A door flew open just in front of him and he jumped, staring inside. His eyebrows came together in confusion as he stared at Karkaroff and Moody. What were they doing in a store closet? They always seemed to hate each other. And why were they staring at Karkaroff’s arm? He glanced down but the Highmaster had yanked his sleeve down. With a glare at both Moody and Harry, Karkaroff stalked off.

“Potter,” Moody said, stopping Harry from leaving. “Were you needing something?”

“I was just heading to Professor Snape’s office, sir. We have a meeting,” Harry said, frowning as the man’s tongue darted out like a snake’s. It was that tic again.

“Ah, Snape,” Moody said almost knowingly. Harry began to feel the same uncomfortable feeling he always got around the man. “Got a dark past, he does. Know he almost went to Azkaban?”

Harry felt a spark of interest but pushed it down. “We’ve all got secrets.”

“Aye, that we do, boy,” Moody said, his magical eye rolling all around and his tongue poking out. “Some advice for yeh. Don’t trust Snape. He ain’t loyal to Dumbledore.”

Harry took a step back. “I really don’t think those two things go together.”

Moody’s face twisted into a disfigured smirk. “You’d be surprised, kid. Don’t trust ‘im. He’s got nothin’ but evil inside.”

“I don’t believe that.”

Suddenly Moody grabbed Harry’s right arm roughly and tightly. “Take a look at ‘is arm…if you can.” The man snickered and shoved Harry away.

Harry’s eyes were drawn to Moody’s flicking tongue again. “I-I have to go or-or I’ll be late. See you later, Professor.” He walked as fast as he could without running away from Moody and into the dungeons. He walked straight through the doors and into Snape’s rooms.

“The courtesy of knocking no longer exists?” Snape drawled, his eyebrows raised.

Harry just shrugged and dropped into the same chair he always occupied, accepting the same cup of tea. After a few sips, he reached into his bag and pulled out Mulligan’s book once again. Apparently there was a complex potion that would reveal the presence of a foreign soul fragment. It was a crazy potion, though, with many ingredients he had never even heard of. Until he figured out a solution to that problem, the book had given some ‘symptoms’ to watch for that could indicate a soul fragment. He was now well into the section on consequences of being the host of a soul fragment.

“And how are we today?” Snape asked casually, flipping through a Potions magazine.

Harry shrugged one shoulder, wincing when it was his recently injured one. “Fine, I guess. Nothing particularly noteworthy.”

“Is something wrong with your shoulder?” Snape asked.

“It’s fine,” Harry said dismissively.

“If you are in pain, I—“

“Really, it’s fine, Professor,” Harry said. “Just bumped the wall on the way here.”

Snape’s eyebrows furrowed, aware that large portions of information were being omitted. Thankfully, he did not push the matter.

In the silence, Harry turned as he read, throwing his legs over one arm of the chair and leaning against the other.

“One might think that were your chair given how often you occupy it and how comfortable you make yourself,” Snape observed.

Harry only gave him a cursory glance. “I suppose.”

“As you are a common presence and source of company, perhaps it is your chair.”

Harry raised his eyes, looking over his glasses. “Are you trying to give or sell me your chair?” he questioned.

Snape sighed. “No, idiot, I am attempting to make you feel more comfortable here by observing a space or spot as yours.”

Harry blinked, comprehending, before he smiled lightly. “I am comfortable here. This is probably the only place I really am comfortable anymore. Thank you for the gesture though. So it’s my chair now?”

“You appear to have claimed it long ago.”

Harry grinned. “Excellent. So I can kick people out of it.”

Snape just rolled his eyes and returned to his magazine.