Professor Potter…

Had he spoken the words aloud, his tone would have had a condescending and sarcastic air.

It was Monday evening, October 14th and Professor Snape had just returned from dinner with his colleagues in the Great Hall. He wasn't in the best mood.

Minerva had just told him that she was having dinner with her little sister Meditrina on Wednesday in Hogsmeade, while Filius and Pomona were otherwise occupied as well. He was now obliged to watch Potter's little defence club that evening. The Head of the Gryffindor had explained to him that there was no need to be there the whole time (‘Potter is doing a good job.’).

He couldn't help but sneer. As if he would trust Potter to stay out of trouble, while it was his responsibility to supervise.

Thinking about those lessons (Minerva had actually started to call them "DA lessons" which annoyed him to no end), he realized that he might be able to demonstrate Potter and his little friends that their level was nowhere near the one of a fully trained Death Eater.

He had indicated his intentions at the dinner table and to his surprise didn't only receive a sharp look by Minerva but Filius, too. The Head of Ravenclaw gave it to understand that the level of the DA (he used that expression as well) was very high and that he was impressed by Potter's way of teaching.

Snape had always thought that Professor Flitwick was a rather fair teacher, unimpressed by the attention-seeking demeanour of certain Gryffindors.

Potter seemed to have made it his life goal not to do anything by the rule.

Their Occlumency lesson last Tuesday evening had proved that. That lesson had been entirely different from what the others had been before. Well, maybe the phoenix's presence had something to do with it or the reason for the bird's attendance…

"I don't know."

There was moment of silence. Both wizards needed a moment to regain their calm. What happened just some minutes ago, neither of them had anticipated.

Snape opened his mouth to excuse himself and leave, but the headmaster spoke first, "Have you calmed yourself?"

Hearing Dumbledore's voice so emotionless surprised him. Anger suddenly surrounded the older man as if he had just remembered or realized something he didn't like.

It was as if Potter's performance had astonished the headmaster as much as him, which had caused the other man to forget his anger for a while in order to hear about the shields, anger that was now back, stronger than before…

He looked back at the headmaster almost challenging, "Don't worry! It does take more than some of Potter's tricks to put me out of balance."

"Stop it."

He hadn't heard this tone coming from the headmaster in a long while. Whatever he wanted to say, it wouldn't be a request.

"You appalled me today, Severus! Do not dare to belittle Harry at this point. He defended himself from an attack he shouldn't have possibly been able to. The quickness of his reaction tells me that he had to do this before. He was ready for the assault."

He definitely hadn't seen the man so disappointed and angry in a long while.

"Tell me, Severus. Last year… How much time did you give him to prepare after you probed and before you actually entered his mind?" the answer must have been written in his face, "Did you probe at all?"

"It was my assignment to prepare him for an attack by the Dark Lord," he defended himself instead of answering. He didn't like what the headmaster implied, "The Dark Lord would have…"

"You are not Voldemort," Albus Dumbledore thundered standing up, while the Potions Master flinched at the name. There was that air of power around the normally jovial wizard that made Snape remember exactly who the only person was the Dark Lord ever feared, "I knew it had been a mistake leaving you two together alone, but I thought you would have shown general maturity to at least try to teach him how to occlude."

"I tried. He wasn't interested…"

"Do not blame him. How could he have? How could he have possibly wanted to learn something from a man who was ready to torture him?"

"Torture him? Albus, I protest…"

"Yes, torture. When you came to me fifteen years ago, you’ve already known and studied the art of Occlumency, but even then I gave you time when I taught you. I allowed you to recollect yourself, especially when I happened to breach your mind accidently. You remember, don't you? For a week you weren't allowed to another Death Eater meeting, we trained day and night so when you would be looking into Voldemort's eyes again, you could hide your true thoughts. In all that time, I never attacked you save for the last test and you were twenty, Severus, twenty years old." The man's voice was quiet and riddled with profound disappointment.

"That brat…"

"Severus!" Dumbledore's tone was so sharp, he had to suppress a flinch, "Before you say anything about Harry's arrogance, let me tell you something: today, he was apprehensive, shy even. He looked like a lamb ready for slaughter, at first because he expected my anger and once again when you entered the room. Whoever you once thought Harry to be (and you were under a misconception even then), that person seems to have disappeared. I don't know what he saw over the summer, but…"

"Wait! What do you mean… saw?"

"The reason for his nightmares: he's had visions, but they seem to come more frequently than they were last year. He must have seen multiple Death Eater meetings this summer."

At that, Snape felt how all blood seemed to leave his face.

"Death Eater meetings? But…"

"It is as you yourself said: 'Has Potter finally deemed Occlumency to be important enough to spend his time studying it?'. Yes, I daresay, he did, Severus." The Potions Master was slightly taken aback. He hadn't sounded as conceited as Dumbledore's imitation, had he?

He didn't know what to add. He had nothing to say. Had Potter truly been timid today? He tried to remember, but he couldn't. Seeing the boy caused his blood to boil, sometimes to the point he was unable to grasp a rational thought.

"I trust you with my life, Severus. However, the way you behaved today, as well as your complete inability to read Harry's emotions has made me realize that I cannot trust you with Harry alone. I should have done it last year, but I decided to have faith in your professional behaviour," a sound escaped the older man's mouth that was dangerously close to a mixture of sarcasm and disillusionment, "Yes. I definitely should have known better."

"Well, no more. Fawkes is going to attend to every Occlumency lesson. You two are not to be left alone until he is convinced that you have seen your mistakes and believe me, Severus, if you consider Molly Weasley or Minerva to be concerned for the welfare of Harry Potter (myself I cannot count for I have made too many mistakes) you will soon learn that Fawkes is even more protective than them combined."

And that was true. At first he hadn't even been allowed to raise his wand towards his pupil, the bird had put itself between him and Potter. Only on the younger wizard's request it had complied.

Fawkes appeared in his office at 6.15 pm. They usually got along rather well, Snape being a person with a great respect for phoenixes and Fawkes occasionally gave him some of his tears for potions. However, the moment the bird had appeared, he knew that today he wasn't here for his defence but was in the role of the accuser or at least supervisor.

It didn't take long and a soft knock was heard at the door.

He would obey, he would be rational, patient and he wouldn't assault the Golden Boy before the other attacked him.

"Enter," he said indifferently.

The brat entered. He remembered the headmaster's words about timidity displayed by the young wizard and when the silent "Good evening" was spoken, he too decided it wasn't the same kind of behaviour the young wizard had shown last year.

"Fawkes!" Potter's shouting startled him a little, he looked at the boy and saw the delight, those cursed green eyes glowing, "What are you doing here?"

"Though gifted with a high intellect, Potter, phoenixes are unable to reply questions."

The brat didn't seem to have heard for he looked at the bird with slightly furrowed eyebrows. Fawkes however had taken notice of his words. With a sharp look, its gaze fixed on the Potions Master warning him to go no further with the sarcastic replies. It had been a rather harmless remark and he had to contain himself not to mention this to the bird.

The boy's reaction surprised him a little.

He caressed the phoenix's beautiful feathers and said quietly, "Hey, Fawkes. It's okay, there's no reason to be angry. Shush my friend." What truly astonished him was that the headmaster's Familiar was pacified immediately and he was unable to tell whether it was due to the brat’s the words or if it simply wanted to make the young wizard happy.

The soft sound of the phoenix song filled the room and though normally causing Snape to let go of all his tension, it was today the reason for the apprehension he felt. The brat on the other hand seemed so much more relaxed all of a sudden.

"You wanted to test my shields, Sir?" there was no sign of timidity when he said that. But he would contain himself, today he wouldn't react on Potter's provocation, he would be the better man.

"At first, Potter, I want to introduce you to the concept of probing: it is not a direct attack on your mind just yet, but a mere touching of your shields or whatever protection already exists at the time. The second I happen to enter your mind, I will retreat immediately." For some reason he actually blinked at the bird for permission, while his main focus was on the brat's reaction who mostly seemed confused, "In the end of the lesson, I will test your shields if your performance during the lesson permits it."

"Yes, Sir." The confusion was still evident. He blinked between Fawkes and the Potions Master.

And so they began: the problem was that Potter's way of occluding was impossible to probe. As soon as he tried to find the rough structure of the shields (so he would be able to probe along its borders), his mind suddenly seemed to be trapped in the middle of Potter's mind protection.

It was like a maze without walls, confusing him more than anything magical he had come across so far. To be honest, it did scare him slightly.

He for example heard a soft laughter somewhere but as soon as he turned towards that laughter to examine it further, discover its origin, it was either gone, replaced by something else or not at the same spot anymore.

There seemed to be no real layout, nothing solid to grasp with the mind and to hold onto.

His first impression about Hogwarts being a part of his pupil's shields were correct, but he still wasn't sure what was added and what wasn't. He wasn't even sure why he had recognized the school except for a certain familiarity.

Another difficulty for Snape was that he couldn't freely move in Potter's mind since he had to constantly watch his own shields. It vexed him, but last year – when Potter hadn't shown the slightest aptitude in Occlumency – the brat had been able to enter his mind after having defended his own with a Protego charm. Only a fool would underestimate the sixteen-year-old wizard now that he seemed to have grasped certain skill with mind magic.

Potter seemed to have realized that Lily's perfume caused him to retreat every time. It was almost unbearable for him and either intentionally or subconsciously the smell appeared more often the deeper he probed or when he entered the mind anew.

There was no way he would ask Potter about it, but the perfume confused him profoundly. Why would the brat know it? He had created that for Lily in the course of their fifth year, it had been a gift for her birthday. She had loved it, however only weeks later there had been that fateful day at the lake where he had lost his best friend through his own stupidity. Surely, she hadn't kept it? Why would the brat know it anyway, he had never truly met his mother.

Recalling that it was him responsible for that fact, caused him less to leave than actually flee Potter's mind.

"Are you alright, Sir?" the boy asked Innocently.

What could he possibly have answered? ‘No, Potter. I am not, I was just reminded of the fact you are Lily's son, too.’?

Except for his oath to protect Lily's child, he never really thought of the Boy Who Lived as anything else but Potter's son: in class, in Occlumency, even occasional encounters in the halls.

And now she appeared in the boy's… the brat's mind.

"A boy to whom it would mean as much as to you if he could see her just once," that nasty little voice just wouldn't keep its mouth shut ever since he had read the brat's letters.

He hadn't uttered a single word about the letters, wondered a little if Potter knew they were gone, but he wouldn't talk to the brat about it.

"Sir?" Was that worry he had just heard? He had to have been silent for longer than he had thought.

"You are dismissed for today, Potter," he simply said. He wanted those lessons to end, they confused him. It irritated him more than the brat's usual arrogant behaviour.

"I thought you wanted to test my shields before the lesson ended."

What little patient he had left, was gone and Snape snapped. Swiftly he raised his wand and cried, "Legilimens!"

Looking back, he still didn't quite understand what happened a second after the incantation was spoken: he remembered the phoenix screech, flying up in the air between the two wizards and Potter who called, "No, Fawkes!", a moment later he had felt his mind colliding with a wall of fire, the defensive magic of the phoenix, his knees hitting the ground hard, the angry bird's eyes seemed to burn.

The boy had called its name one more time, sharper and much more confident than he had heard Potter in a long time.

("It's alright. I was ready. Believe me, in here I always am. It is fine, I am fine. He has to do this or do you really think Voldemort will give me the courtesy and probe before an attack?")

He had used the same argument when talking to the headmaster, yet out of the boy's mouth it had sounded somehow crueller.

"I believe it is enough for today, Potter. You are dismissed."

Without another word, Snape had left the room. The bird had given him a clear warning that day. He would let Potter control the pace of the lessons.

Other than Occlumency he was only forced to meet with the brat in Potions. The projects did have an advantage he hadn't thought of before: he could use them as a disguise for the lessons on Tuesdays.

In class he had told Potter that although he had somehow managed to attend to his NEWT class, his level as brewer was too low especially concerning his project. He would have to make an additional effort and was therefore to report every Tuesday evening for another session of remedial potion lesson. Towards his Slytherins he had indicated of hoping that Potter would break under the pressure and would quit his class (without saying so outright, of course) and they had believed it without question. Not even Miss Parkinson or Mr Malfoy whom he considered dangerously attentive seemed to suspect anything.

The projects were fairly interesting. All of them were, he had to admit.

Last Tuesday was the first official lesson his students were allowed to work on their project. All of them were well prepared; Mr Malfoy even already started to experiment with a rather simple strengthening potion which after the adding of dragon hide tripled its potency. He tried to gain the same affect by adding a combination of three different ingredients. The idea was rather good, but Mr Malfoy hadn't known that ginger had to be brewed with a higher temperature in order to gain the desired effect. By raising the temperature on the other hand, the strengthening potion in itself would be ruined since Salamander blood stopped having its binding effect when brewed with too much heat.

His sixth year student had been unaware of this, mostly because the influence of heat was a topic he rarely touched in class. Mr Malfoy had probably only read about the catalytic effect of ginger without having read about what temperature was needed for it to happen. In the end of the lesson he had discreetly explained this to his bright student who seemed to have realized that before experimenting one would have to research much more than when brewing a potion by recipe.

All the others had only read and taken notes, except for Mr Zabini who had taken Miss Midgen along with him to work out a general arithmetic hypothesis concerning a potion's flow that they could work on. Occasionally, they had asked Miss Granger for advice who admittedly had a truly remarkable intellect especially concerning numbers.

Potter had only written while occasionally taken a glance at the books he had taken along (Healing Potions – A survey of new-found potions in the 20th century; Of Wards And Shields; Experimental Brewing – How to avoid exploding cauldrons; One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi; Base and Acid – Interaction of ingredients ('Ah,' he thought, 'that is how he knew of the effect of ruminant saliva or LaRica')).

Inconspicuously, he had looked over Potter's shoulder to see what he was writing: the brat created a timetable for the project along with an 'experimental plan' and a separate parchment with the title 'Important things to look up'.

He had seen a similar concept from Miss Granger and his Slytherins (whom he had advised to do so, however), it was unexpected to see such a system used by the master of trouble and chaos, the son of James Potter.

Tomorrow, they would have another lesson to work on the project and against his intentions he was starting to look forward to them wondering if Mr Blaise would bring along Miss Midgen again, if Miss Granger would already start to brew and how much they all had worked on their project over the week.

The next morning, after having eaten breakfast rather early he left the Great Hall. While closing the doors he heard a dull clonk behind him warning of Alastor Moody's arrival. For a brief moment the spy wondered how a man that preached constant vigilance on a daily basis could have thought it a good idea to replace his lost leg with wood since because of it the art of sneaking up was grossly restricted.

"Snape," the former auror growled lowly.

It wasn't a secret that he didn't trust the Potions Master: once a Death Eater, always a Death Eater!

It annoyed Snape, especially since it had been a doppelganger two years ago coming to school, he had to go through yet another examination of his office by the paranoid Moody. He avoided the man as much as it was possible, not out of fear but simple exasperation. However, he respected the man for he was a true fighter and fiercely loyal towards Dumbledore.

He didn't say anything to the Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher, only nodded in acknowledgement.

"What are you doing here so early, Snape?" He had to suppress the urge not to simply roll his eyes at the question.

"Well, usually when one is hungry in the morning at Hogwarts they go to the Great Hall in order to eat breakfast."

The other man looked at him coldly, obviously trying to determine whether he had just told the truth or a lie. This time the urge was almost impossible to smother. His lips were pressed together.

Then they both heard a smashing sound not far away and looked at each other.

"Students," Moody mouthed.

Their quarrel or at least its beginning was forgotten when both walked quickly to the origin of the noise.

The moment Snape wanted to turn around the corner, his shoulder was grabbed hard by Moody causing him to nearly draw his wand out of reflex. He opened his mouth to say something when the former auror hissed, "Quiet. I want to see what they are going to do." His magical eye looked straight through the corner.

Without making a sound Snape moved towards the source of the noise, hiding in the shadows, while Moody stood rooted on the spot.

The Potions teacher was ready to interfere if necessary, especially when he saw the people involved: two of his second year Slytherins, Angelica Nott and Phineus Phallandar, were cornered by a group of three Gryffindors, a Hufflepuff and two Ravenclaws, all together Third Years. The attackers' wands were all out.

"Leave us alone!" Mister Nott's little sister said in a shaky voice. She was scared, her wand, if she had it with her, was forgotten.

"Look at this! Little snakes here and all alone… Death Eater's children soon to become Death Eaters themselves. Lets make them dance," a third year Gryffindor named Alfred Withby sneered raising his wand.

For a moment the Potions Master was reminded of the times he had been cornered at school, unfairly outnumbered. It made him furious.

Snape immediately wanted to step in, when a sudden flash of scarlet light hit Withby's wrist whose wand shot out of his hand into the air. The spell was well-dosed and wouldn't hurt the Gryffindor in the least. Expecting Minerva turning around the corner, her face white, her eyes dangerously narrowed, it dumbfounded him to see Potter arriving. His wand in his hand and those green eyes blazed furiously as he approached the little group.

"What in Merlin's name do you think you're doing?" the Golden Boy's voice was deadly quiet and almost came out as hiss. Some of the attackers cowered back a little, obviously smart enough to recognize the anger.

Kevin, Withby's cousin, however wasn't. Confidently, he smiled at Harry, "Nothing. Just teaching a little lesson, you know, a little snake-hunting, if you know what I mean."

He had the boldness to wink at Potter.

Snape had seen the brat angry, furious even. Nevertheless, he couldn't remember the last time recognizing such rage in Potter's face. Maybe it was because the anger had always been mixed with loathing. Here, additionally to irritation was disgust which only emphasized the main sentiment. For a moment, the Potions Master could have sworn that the air burned.

Whatever Withby had said to irate the older student, it hadn't been a particularly smart thing to say.

All the wands that had been at the ready flew from their owner's hands straight into Potter's left. That nonverbal Summoning charm would have delighted Professor Flitwick.

Potter hissed loudly for a moment, having been next to the Dark Lord too many times, Snape immediately recognized Parseltongue. The students didn't and all of them draw back a little

"Snake-hunting? Well, it is a well-known fact that I can talk to snakes. Do you want to hunt me, too?" How one could look so furious but speak so calmly surprised the occasionally ill-tempered Potions Master.

Within seconds, Potter's face softened as he turned around and looked at the two Slytherins who shrunk a little. "Are you alright?"

The caring tone left the children no doubt whom he stood up for.

Both of Snape's pupils nodded staring at the sixth year student.

"Wait," Alfred Withby interfered; obviously feeling more relaxed by Potter's soft tone, "They are Slytherins. Nott's," he motioned towards Angelica, "Father was a Death Eater during the last war. My Dad told me."

Potter looked at him indifferently, "Interesting, really." Snape hadn't known that Gryffindor's Golden Boy knew sarcasm. "Well, you seem to be under some misconceptions. Let me explain: first, not every Slytherin is bad, I have found two good friends both coming from Slytherin and there are a lot that I respect and like coming from that house. Second, her father is only said to be a Death Eater, there was never proof of that. Third, being a Death Eater in the last war doesn't necessarily mean to be one in this; some are courageous enough to defy Voldemort," all the children flinched. "Forth, even if her father was a Death Eater, it doesn't mean, that his daughter, wife or son necessarily are. We are not our fathers and we are not our mothers. We only stand for ourselves. Yes, they influence our decisions, some of them causing us to do the same as them, others to do the contrary, but we are not them."

"In your case, maybe. Everybody knows your parents are dead." The words uttered by world's greatest fool named Alfred Withby were followed by an ear-deafening silence. Snape half-heartedly raised his wand to disarm Potter or separate him from the younger Gryffindor if necessary.

However, to his surprise the orphan didn't scream, hurled no insults, he simply turned away and took a deep breath before facing the fool. There was no anger, only a profound sadness that would hurt Withby more than any yelling Potter was capable of.

"You are right. I have no parents to show me their view of the world. When I was first introduced to the Wizarding World, I was forced to build my own opinion about everything and I was, probably still am, mistaken about some things such as believing that all Slytherins are bad or that Gryffindors are altogether honourable." The child spoken to shrunk a little.

"Don't judge people for who their parents are. I never would since I've never met mine, but am being compared to them every single day."

He took another calming breath and then said, "You are lucky I am no Prefect, otherwise I would take fifty points from each of you and you would rot in detention with Filch until the end of term. However, I will inform your Heads of House," then he suddenly smiled a rather evil smile, "Actually I have a better idea. We should call Professor Snape. I mean, he is the Head of the victims' house."

Horrified the attackers looked at the older student. For a moment there was silence and Potter's evil smile morphed into an expression of profound disappointment.

He shook his head, "You are all to report to my Head of House since the majority of the attackers come from Gryffindor. You will go to her and tell her what you did. When I ask Professor McGonagall this afternoon, I want to hear that six students received detention and were taken points. If you dare to tell her that what happened this morning was anything else but a stupid, cowardly attack on two students, I will report the truth. Professor McGonagall hates liars…She would only punish you worse." The words were spoken neutrally, nobody doubted their truth.

Snape very well knew that having them admit to their wrong-doing was already a sort of punishment since it was shameful.

"Go!" Potter said to the attackers who immediately left.

He looked at the two Slytherins, his eyes softening again: "Are you really okay?"

They nodded shyly.

"Do you want me to go with you?"

"No, thank you," Miss Nott said. When Potter lifted his hand to say goodbye, she said very silently, "I promised my Dad to talk about you when I happen to see you… Is that okay?"

He remained remarkably calm, didn't flinch, didn't show the slightest surprise.

"Sure," he said, and then smiled. It seemed a little forced, but that was not to be noticed by twelve-year-olds.

"I don't think they will harass you again," he told them, "Have a nice day!"

He was already halfway around the corner where the others had disappeared a minute ago when the little girl said, "I wished he had never come back. Dad is not the same ever since."

Snape closed his eyes at that, such an innocent comment concerning such a violent matter. He waited for Potter's reaction.

"Me too." The whisper swept across the hall then he was out of sight.

The Potions Master saw Moody who motioned towards a classroom door and swept in (as silently as the clunk allowed). Snape followed and closed the wooden door behind him.

"You knew Potter was there." It wasn't a question.

"Of course," the older man answered, "I wanted to see how he deals with injustice that doesn't concern him personally or his friends."

It was a rare thing to see the paranoid wizard smile and even rarer for Snape to witness it, however Potter had managed that.

"It's good to see that some of Lily lives on in that boy." The normally rather emotionless spy couldn't help but stare at the no less detached Ex-Auror. The smile that screwed up the scarred face even worse didn’t disappear when he witnessed the younger man’s reaction.

"What?" Moody laughed, "Of course he looks like James, is as fiercely loyal regarding his friends and has his father's iron determination he required after his marriage, but all in all? The boy is so much like Lily it sometimes scares me: When he is angry like this, protecting innocents or because of any kind of injustice? That's her. That smartness which is combined with a true interest at what he's learning? That's her. However, as much as he remembers us of the Potters… I think we sometimes forget he is a person of his own. He made me realize that, today. I didn't know them while at Hogwarts, so tell me: were they as aware of reality at the age of sixteen as he is? For I could swear that they seemed to me much more like children when they joined the Order and they grew up less because of Voldemort but that small boy who would survive the killing curse one day."

Snape had never heard Moody speak so much for he was a man of only few words. Seeing him with that thoughtful expression, the scarred features slightly softened and yet sad while remembering countless friends that had died… It frightened the younger man.

He left the classroom without answering desperately trying not to think about the almost surreal things happening that morning.

He was dreaming… He would be waking up any minute.

Tuesday morning, 15th October, was a day to remember. Since it was the first time in fifteen years that Severus Snape, Potions Master of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry was late for class.

Those poor first year Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws wouldn't forget that morning either.

At ten o’clock, his NEWTs entered the room. It didn't take long to determine that his Slytherins save for Mr Zabini were in a rather foul mood.

Pansy Parkinson slammed the door so loudly, had she been in another House, she would have earned detention. Snape wasn't ready to let it pass. He looked at her warningly giving her to understand he detested impropriety. She only jerked with her head towards Potter.

It surprised him a little.

Given what he had seen this morning, he would have expected to see at least Mr Nott to be less hostile. Nevertheless, his face was the one showing the most antipathy.

What had Potter done now?

The moment Mr Malfoy slammed his schoolbag on his desk, the Potions teacher decided to find out what was wrong, "May I help you?"

It sounded friendly, only his Slytherins would be able to recognize the dangerous undertone.

Mr Nott murmured something under his breath.

"Yes?"

"He should stay from my sister!" the teenager thundered loudly and angrily.

"There is no need to scream inside of my classroom, Mr Nott," Snape warned quietly in return. But the young wizard didn't seem to have heard him. He drew his wand, looking ready to strike.

Potter's wand was out swiftly as well, but he took a defensive stance.

"I only meant to help her. She was being attacked." The Gryffindor was much calmer than his adversary, mentioning Mr Zabini and Miss Granger to lower their wands.

"You stay away from her," Mr Nott's voice shook. Snape stepped forward, but the son of a loyal Death Eater screamed, "You have no idea what danger you put her in! Us all! You don't know what…"

Snape's warningly spoken "Mr Nott" wasn't heard since Potter said sharply, "I know. Merlin forgive me, I know, Nott! You don't know. You are a fool!"

"That would be ten points from Gryffindor, Potter!" Snape interrupted coldly before Mr Nott would give anything away that could cause his father's death.

"I will have no more of this childish quarrel!" Snape hissed. "If I hear another word from any of you, that person will serve detention every night this week."

For a moment Potter looked at him as defiantly as he had used to their first five years inside of this classroom. Never before had he hoped as much for a cheeky retort of the ill-tempered brat. Like this he wouldn't have to attend the dreadful DA meeting tomorrow. Potter seemed to be thinking along the same lines since he decided to be quiet. The brat's anger lingered long into the first lesson, but was later replaced by a look Snape was unable to interpret.

The lessons were spent rather quietly, nobody talked and nobody asked questions.

When the Potions teacher left for lunch, he was angry: he had known Potter would ruin his favourite calss. That brat's ability to seek and actually find trouble was astounding.

Not unlike last week, the bird was in his office before the brat. Today, it appeared to be even more apprehensive than last week probably reminding him of how last week's lessons had ended.

"I will not attack him," he assured the phoenix who didn't seem to be convinced. A moment later, a knock was heard and he answered it as always, "Enter."

Potter arrived seemingly nervous though he smiled when he discovered the bird.

"Sit down, Potter," Snape ordered, but the brat kept his position. Coldly he wanted to snarl something when the brat started to talk, "Sir. Before we start the lesson, I wanted to…" The Potions Master's eyebrows rose in a sarcastic manner causing the oh-so-courageous Gryffindor to stop speaking, "…Ask you about my project, Sir."

Knowing it wasn't what he had wanted to say, Snape gestured him to continue.

"Carbon is known to have a protecting effect however, I find very little in the books I read, sir. Do you have a tip what books I should consider?"

Trying not to show his astonishment, he answered, "A well-written book is Potions and Chemistry whose author is a Muggleborn who studied Chemistry at Muggle University after having had a wizard's education. It deals with the interaction of elements and magic, especially organic compounds. There is a chapter about carbon and its uses. You can find it in the library. There is also a book written in Latin called Praesidium liquidus, there is no translation of it, however it directly deals with carbon as an ingredient of protection spells and potions."

"I have heard of that, Sir. It is nearly impossible to find a copy of it."

"When have you heard about that book, Potter?"

"In our fourth year, when we were studying antidotes, you once mentioned that the addition of carbon could strengthen the effect of a bezoar, Sir. I read it up since it interested me and I found out that it was also part of certain wandless protection spells."

For the second time in one day, he felt his normally rigid facial expression morph into one of confusion. The brat must have seen it since a small smile was formed, "You said you would test our antidotes by poisoning one of us to determine the efficiency of our antidotes, sir. That inspires everybody to work hard." That slightly hunted look Snape had seen before, returned on the boy's face, the smile was gone as soon as it had come.

A soft sound coming from the phoenix made Potter relax, breathing in deeply, he sat down waiting for his teacher to start.

He realized immediately that Potter's shields had changed again, almost instantly he was in the middle of the protection, unable to determine where he was. He heard a sound as if someone was eating; disgusted he tried to ignore the noise, but was incapable of it. His mind wandered in Potter's, the fact he was unable to see anything confused him.

Mind Magic was built on pictures: one saw things when entering the mind, he himself fooled the Dark Lord with images. The complete lack of pictures was disconcerting.

He tried to go deeper, almost desperately trying to see something, anything. He felt the atmosphere change… He was about to enter a darker part of Potter's shields.

Then he felt trapped, as if being in a small room that emitted a foreboding feeling, but was unable to see the place itself. He attempted to leave Potter's mind/shields again, but was incapable of drawing back, which caused him to become nervous.

"It's alright, sir. Step out of it. Open the door." He heard Potter's voice inside of him, felt the young wizard's mind presence behind his shields. Snape rushed forward, lifting his hand to open a door that wasn't there. The key to leave Potter's mind was the movement itself.

He was suddenly back in his office, trying to compose himself while breathing slightly faster than he usually would.

Potter had managed to enter his mind!

His Occlumency shields had been up, but the young fool had gotten past a protection not even the headmaster or the Dark Lord was able to penetrate.

"What was that?" He asked, not referring to anything specific.

"While you were probing you got distracted and lost orientation, sir. I locked you up, so you would be willing to leave."

"Lock me up… Where, in Merlin's name, did you lock me up?"

"The place where things are hidden," was the cryptic answer. Potter examined him with his eyes, obviously assessing, if they could continue.

"Do you want to test me again, sir?" At the question, Snape tried to measure the honesty of his question and decided he hadn't given him a cheek.

"No, Potter. Your shields are…" Powerful? Scary? Unlike anything he had come across so far? "Rather acceptable. I have tested them quite thoroughly and although I have neither understood them entirely nor am sure of how they function, they seemed to be sufficient for what they were built for. However, the headmaster told me you had visions over the summer." Potter's eyes went wide, panic evident, "So, do you think your connection to the Dark Lord is still existent?"

"I don't think it can be broken," was the careful answer.

"What about your presence at Hogwarts? Have you had visions the last few weeks?" There it was again: that haunted look on Potter's face.

"Occasionally, Sir," Potter could be evasive if he wanted to be. It caused the Potions Master's curiosity to be peaked.

"What kind?" He would find out more about this kind of protection.

"The way they are since I created my shields." Well, if the brat didn't start to speak more clearly they would be here all night.

"That is not an answer to my question, Potter."

The brat's eyes narrowed slightly, "Why would you want to know, Sir?"

"I am here to teach you Occlumency." Potter stood up from the chair before the teacher could say anything else.

"I thought you were here to make sure 'if my shields will hold if someone tried to break them down repeatedly', sir." The defiance that had been away for so long was back full force.

Why was he quoted by everybody, lately?

"I need to know more about your shields in order to determine whether they stand a chance against the Dark Lord. To do that, I have to be acquainted with how your protection has changed your visions."

'It has of course nothing to do with your curiosity,' that voice was definitely starting to become annoying.

His words had an effect on the boy: his shoulders slumped, all confidence was gone within seconds.

Quietly, unable to keep his teacher's gaze he said, "I am sorry, Sir. I am aware…"

Years of practice were the only reason why Snape's jaw didn't drop at the outright apology. His confusion was followed by an emotion that wasn't guilt over the fact he was less interested in helping his pupil than dissecting the riddle that were Potter's Occlumency shields.

"I view things, sir. I’m practically a spectator," while speaking his eyes still avoided his teacher's gaze, "There is nothing I can do."

Helplessness was combined with terrible guilt… Although, the words were spoken quietly, Snape was aware of the emotions that had caused the boy's voice to crack slightly. He recognized the sentiments since he didn't feel differently while being at Death Eater meetings.

"As long as you remember just that, Potter." He didn't know why he said the words or why the young wizard's tentative and grateful smile would cause his heart to skip a beat.

"Why don't we continue in exploring your shields?"

There was nothing else he could think of saying.

After another half an hour of profound confusion and disorientation he left the shields again. They were too strong. There was no way past them. Next week, he wouldn't probe Potter's mind, he would ask him about the mechanics of them. For today, he didn't want to exchange too many words with the brat for he had started to question his opinion of the young wizard, an opinion he wasn't ready to revise.

'He is Potter's son, arrogant and vindictive, having nothing but his fame to dwell upon.' He thought, ignoring the fact that even in his mind the words sounded empty.

Not wanting to irate the phoenix again, he dismissed Potter without an attack on the shields. However, he told him that next week he'd test the shields at the end of the lesson. Fawkes sang his beautiful song causing the Potions Master to relax.

Before leaving, the boy approached the bird and said almost inaudibly, "Tell Professor Dumbledore thanks for sending you, will you? I really like those lessons…"

With another "Good night" Potter was gone.

Why would the questionable flattering of a student he couldn't even stand cause his breath to stop?

He stood in front of the transfiguration classroom waiting for Potter to arrive.

He was unsure what to expect of the Golden Boy's Defence club and therefore looked rather gloomy. Luna Lovegood seemed to be unaware of his irritation when she arrived at her Potions teacher's side.

"Professor Snape, good evening," she said in her dreamy voice, "Harry asked me to pick you up. Please, follow me."

He had known Miss Lovegood was a member of Potter's club, had even been a part of the group that had gone to the Ministry, but it was still difficult to believe that it was her Potter had sent for showing him the way.

Miss Lovegood's character was impossible to understand, but it was very hard to dislike her. She was extraordinarily bright and though not always completely attentive she was one of the best in his OWL Potions class. It had been smart of Potter to send her and not some foolish Gryffindor.

"Are you looking forward to those lessons?" he couldn't help but ask.

He had heard Minerva's and Filius' high opinion of Potter's way of teaching, but before he would judge for himself, he would ask for the opinion of the one person among the Golden Boy's friends that would tell the unfiltered truth.

"Oh yes," she said dreamily, "There are many good and excellent professors at this school, but Harry has a way of explaining that makes sense to everybody. He can elucidate a matter in five different ways for he includes all senses. There are some senses he doesn't understand as well, he then asks others, mostly Hermione, to explain."

He didn't quite understand what she'd meant and decided he would know in a short while.

She laughed a little, her tone light and a little distracted, "When he started to give us the lessons he wasn't one of many words, he still isn't, but it doesn't seem as awkward anymore. The knowledge he's acquired over the summer helps him to focus, but he looks a little old sometimes, though his heart is still young."

Yet another commentary he was unable to interpret. Almost glad he noticed that Miss Lovegood stopped next to a wooden door and opened it.

The Potions Master's eyes widened when he looked at an open field, riddled with stones and little hills. The grass was partly cut deep, but there was a cornfield not far away with its plants approximately reaching his hip. The door and wall behind him were still apparent; next to it were mattresses and cushions piled up. To his right however, he saw wooden floor, its area being roughly as large as a classroom without chairs or desks.

That place was truly astonishing.

Miss Lovegood smiled up to him saying without noticing that Potter was in earshot, "I also like the fact, he always changes the room. He adapts it for every single meeting and is always very imaginative. However, the room always has a twist: we usually don't find it until the end of the lesson."

He had to suppress a grin seeing Potter blush and look away for a moment.

Mr Zabini and Miss Bulstrode had stood up immediately seeing their Head of House and both nodded in acknowledgment.

"Good evening, Professor Snape," Potter said politely, "Do you wish a chair or do prefer to stand like Professor McGonagall and Professor Flitwick, Sir?"

"I am in no need of a chair, Potter," Snape had decided to be neutral for the beginning; he would correct them and bring them back to reality later in the lesson.

He looked around and wasn't surprised to see most of the students belonging to the Gryffindor House, youngest being Dennis Creevey, but there were many Hufflepuffs as well which he hadn't anticipated. The other two houses were ill-represented.

Potter continued his conversation with Terry Boot telling her that her friends were naturally allowed to come to the next DA lesson.

The younger Creevey looked apprehensive when the older Gryffindor looked at him, "I don't know, Dennis. Let me think about it during the lesson. I am sure we'll find a solution."

Snape saw the child nod, a little subdued.

"Hey," Potter said with an encouraging smile, "Your idea is very good and it actually makes a lot of sense, I simply have to see if it is actually possible." The young Creevey's smile brightened up causing Snape to sneer: like a dog receiving praise from its master.

Behind him the door opened and he saw Zacharias Smith and Justin Finch-Fletchely entering, their faces serious. Out of the corner of his eyes he observed Potter whose forehead was furrowed, obviously having picked up the mood of his friends.

"Good evening, you two! Bad news?" he asked seriously. Smith jerked his head indicating that it was not the case.

It was clear that the older Gryffindor didn't believe it.

"All right," Potter said, all children who had been whispering to each other immediately fell silent and looked at their leader. It was a bit surprising. Snape had to admit not to have expected the obvious respect Potter's classmates showed him. ('Well, this could be practically called HPFCM instead of DA,' he thought derisively, 'Harry Potter Fan Club Meeting. Their behaviour shouldn't astonish me.').

"Welcome to our sixth DA meeting. Our supervisor tonight will be Professor Snape as I am sure you have noticed." Only Smith and Finch-Fletchely turned their heads. "Today's lesson will be divided in three parts: First, I have finally found a way to practice our Healing Charms which we will do in the first part of the lesson." Snape saw their delight, while he himself didn't trust his normally excellent hearing: Healing Charms?

"After that, we are going to practice all the new spells that we've learnt for the last three meetings and I found an additional spell that we are going to include. The first two parts will take until 7.30," while he spoke, a clock appeared next to the door, "Then we'll have our first practical lesson in tactics that will take until 9 o'clock. Maybe a little longer, maybe a little less, but don't worry you'll be back to your dorms before curfew. Any questions so far?"

All shook their heads.

Potter called, "Dobby!"

With a 'pop' that crazy house-elf wearing a tea-cosy for a hat appeared with a bright smile.

He had always felt sorry for the house-elf when visiting the Manor of the Malfoys, Dobby had been one of many servants in the large home. Nevertheless, he had been mistreated even more than any of the other house-elves by his masters. It had always vexed him to be incapable of doing anything for the poor lad and had been happy to hear that Dobby had found a home at Hogwarts for Albus Dumbledore was known to be fond of house-elves, supporting those who sought freedom. Snape himself had employed a free house-elf years ago who took care of his home,while he was at Hogwarts, Chita, whom he regarded more as the only family he had left than a servant. The Dark Lord had never heard of her for none of Snape's friends knew of her existence. The only ones that did were the headmaster, Minerva, Filius and Poppy Pomfrey, whom he had invited to his home. Nobody else knew, he had another house but Spinner's End…

With a slight shake of the head, he focused back on the lesson.

"Dobby will be assisting me for tonight." 'Yet another dog, touched by the praise of its master,' he thought coldly after seeing the look of shier bliss on the elf's face, "I went to him for advice since I couldn't really think of a way to practice healing charms. Well Dobby, why don't you explain since it was your idea?"

"Harry Potter, sir! I thank you. Dobby will explain: In Healer training the mediwizards and witches is not allowed to heal patients, sirs and ladies. They uses pig feet to learn curing cuts, they cuts them open and then heals them, which is why they come to big kitchens like Hogwarts to asks for leftovers. When Harry Potter came to Dobby, he told this and Harry Potter asked to have some pig feet as well for his defence class." With a flick of his fingers a basket full of pig feet appeared next to him, "The house-elves have saved some pig feet for Harry Potter."

The reaction couldn't have been more different. While the male Gryffindors congratulated Dobby for his great idea, Lavender Brown and the Patil sisters screeched. His Slytherins looked at the pig feet with interest but without saying much. The female Hufflepuffs seemed rather composed as well, Ernie McMillan and Mr Finch-Fletchely looked quite ill, Zacharias Smith seemed disgusted.

"You don't really want us to work with those things, do you Harry?" One of the Patil sisters asked (when not seeing them in different classes, Snape wasn't able to distinguish the twins).

"I doubt I would have asked Dobby to gather all those pig feet if I didn't, Padma." It seemed as if Potter could make a distinction between the two, "Anyway, the other reason why Dobby is here is that house-elves are well taught by their ancestors in the art of healing since they devote to their house and family. Taking care of illness and injuries is therefore important, especially in a household with children. Dobby will give us a little insight in what house-elves know which is quite a lot and I want you to treat Dobby with the same respect you would treat any teacher at this school. Thanks again, Dobby."

The house-elf had tears in his eyes, obviously touched by Potter's words. When the brat had been talking like this, he was reminded of Chita who by now was somewhat a medielf for she had had to heal his injuries more than once for the last few years.

Mr Smith went over to the basket and examined it, his nose wrinkled, "That's disgusting. I am not going to touch any of this stuff."

Potter seemed rather unimpressed, "I am not going to force anybody to, especially since not everybody is accustomed to see blood. Any person that doesn't want to attend to this part of the lesson can get over to the wooden floor and practice the spells of last week." Smith, Finch-Fletchely, Macmillan, the Patil sisters and Miss Brown turned around to go, but Potter continued, "But you should do it with the knowledge that this training might save your life one day. Any spell, counter-curse or shield that you'll learn here will help you absolutely nothing after you were hit by a spell and believe me the Cutting curse causes terrible injuries."

He went to the basket and took out one of the pig feet examining it thoughtfully, "I know there are people that cannot see blood and I respect and understand those of you who try, but are unable to bear it. It happens; sometimes it even depends on the situation. You can see blood one-hundred times without passing out, but lose consciousness at the one hundred and first time. You'll never know if you don't try."

With this, he turned towards the others telling them to take out a foot, then took out a knife and cut his own deeply to the bone. He passed his knife on to the next person. Reluctantly, those who had wanted to go away approached. His face screwed up, Smith took out a foot.

"Well, let's revise: What Healing spells do we know so far?"

Not unlike in his class, Miss Granger answered promptly: "Monstrat Fractura, to find out if a bone is broken, Ferula et Analgesia to put a limb in splints including numbing the pain, the two spells you used on Dennis our first lesson. Freges to cool a sprained wrist or foot, you used that one on Seamus on our second lesson. Then we looked at the healing of cuts like Cutis Adapta when it's a clean cut because of a knife or something sharp or Cutis purgas et adapta when it's a sharp cut that was polluted by dirt or anything else. When the skin is so torn and there is no way to just attach the skin, you have to clean the wound, then remove parts of the skin that cannot be healed and then heal the wound, it is a so-called Trias Charm: Vulnus Purgas Granulas Sanas. The last spell, you said, is only to be used by professional healers, so you taught us: Vulnus Purgas Coniunges to clean and wrap in the wounded limb."

Potter looked at her speechless, "Hermione, your memory is a blessing should I ever lose my notes. Amazing! I know you for more than five years, but your memory astonishes me every time anew."

Snape didn't understand why he would praise the insufferable know-it-all like this or why Miss Granger too would blush at the words. He himself was astonished, too, though not only because of the sharpness of her memories…

He of course had a vast knowledge about healing charms and potions for it was him who provided the hospital wing with all sorts of potions from Dreamless Sleep to Skele-Grow, however he hadn't expected the children to know so many healings spells.

"Today, I would like to focus on those spells. If they work well, we will learn new ones, but at first, I want you all to heal a clean cut. The spell is Cutis Adapta, it causes severed skin to be connected again. The Muggleborns among you will be familiar with the principle since most cuts that are made for surgery are adapted like this, not by a spell but by suturing the wound. Those who have no idea what I talking about… Please, forget what I said." Potter's little entourage laughed. It hadn't been that amusing, he thought, desperately trying not to lose his annoyed facial expression.

Potter lifted his wand, pointed it at the artificial cut and said clearly, "Cutis Adapta." It healed immediately without leaving the smallest scar as if Potter had done it a hundred times. "More important than ever it is that you actually want this. There is a cut and you want to heal it."

And so they tried. The older students learnt the spell remarkably fast, obviously having tried that before only without having anything to practice it on.

The younger ones struggled, especially Dennis Creevey, "Adapta Cuta… No, Curis Adapta… Cutis! Cutis adapt…" A frustrated sigh, "This cannot be so difficult!"

"Are you alright, Dennis?" Potter asked sitting next to the small third year.

"I was able to do it. Last week, I could speak the incantation…"

"Dennis, look at me. It's alright. Forget the foot. The incantation is Cutis Adapta."

The young third year looked at the brat and repeated the incantation several times. Suddenly the wound healed not perfectly but well enough, Creevey's younger brother squealed in delight.

"There you go," Potter said, "Well done! I had the same problem at first. I was so focused on the cut I completely forgot what I wanted to do."

The younger Gryffindor's eyes went wide, "So you weren't just able to do it?"

To Snape's astonishment Potter laughed merrily, "The only thing I've ever been able to 'just do' was flying, Dennis."

The Potions professor examined the young wizard and saw that he truly believed what he had said. Watching his two best friends he noticed that they neither rolled his eyes over the pathetic attempt to be modest nor did they look surprised at the words. Heartfelt resignation was to be seen as if this happened on a daily basis despite their efforts for the contrary.

The best would be to simply be prepared for anything from now on. Like this the feeling of being taken aback would lessen. Or so he told himself.

"Harry?" Miss Bones asked and immediately received the Golden Boy's attention. "You are the only one who was able to heal the cut without leaving a scar. What exactly did you do?"

"Madam Pomfrey once threatened to have me move into the hospital wing, Susan. What I am trying to say is that I had to be healed so many times by now, I by now understand the mechanics of the healing spell."

Then he looked thoughtful for a moment and said sharply, "Finite Incantatem!"

Except for his and Miss Granger's spell, all the others were countered by the admittedly powerful incantation. Instead of chastising the dunderheads who hadn't thought of sealing the spell, he smiled at his best friend in approval.

She shrugged, "You said last week that Healing charms can be countered within the first ten minutes after the spell was spoken and that this was used in open combat, which is why we should use the Sealing Charm Sigillas unless at a safe location like the hospital wing."

For the second time this evening Potter looked flabbergasted, and then smiled muttering "amazing" one more time. He seemed to be deeply impressed by his friend's knowledge.

He wordlessly gave her the knife to cut open their training device one more time.

"Dobby, before I explain anything further: tell us how exactly your kin heals."

"We is not allowed to heal wounds with a wand, Harry Potter, sir. We is getting bandaging material and officinal herb like Arnica when a wound heals badly, sir. Then there is elven incantations to heal a master when no help is near, sir, but their power depends."

"On what?" Potter asked obviously already knowing the answer, possibly because of former talks with the house-elf.

"On how much house-elves cares for his masters, sir." A thoughtful nod without surprise confirmed Snape's suspicions of former conversations with the crazy elf.

Potter thanked him and turned towards his class, "Our spells, too, are dependent on how much we care for the wound to heal. Accidental magic proves that since small cuts heal just as slowly as they would non-magically while terribly painful injuries like broken bones can heal within seconds."

Roaring silence followed that explanation. Almost every single eyebrow in the room was raised while Potter looked a little confused, "What?"

"You healed yourself with magic as a child?" Blaise Zabini asked, the normally very calm and composed young wizard didn't seem capable of believing his ears.

The Boy-who-lived seemed a little confused, "I remember once when I was about three years old: I was sure to have broken my left arm since it was in strange angle, however, it healed very swiftly. That never happened to you?"

"I went to my parents with injuries," Zabini answered rather dryly.

Potter shrugged, "Well, the muggleborns among you will know what I am talking about." Judging by their expression, they didn't. The instructor noticed, too.

"Anyway, as always it is important to know what exactly it is you want." A bucket containing dirt appeared next to Potter. He took a handful and let it fall over his pig foot. "The second Healing spell we're going to practice is Cutis Purgas et Adapta. It's practically the same spell, but first you'll have to focus on cleaning the wound. Don't forget to seal it in the end."

Again the room was filled with incantations and though the wounds healed well, the cleaning didn't come easily to the students. Potter patiently explained and guided them. Half an hour later, all had managed to decently clean and close a wound.

Not unlike before, he praised them all.

"There is one more spell I want you to practice. It shouldn't take long." He raised his wand, pointed it close to the skin of the pig foot and said, "Reducto."

All could hear the bone break, the skin seemed untouched.

Potter looked up, suddenly serious, "Never forget that every spell can hurt others terribly, so be careful at what you're doing."

"Isn't there a bone-breaking curse used by Death Eaters?" Miss Abbott asked.

"Yes," was the simple answer, "Ferula we will practice next week, today I want us to be capable of diagnosing a broken bone… The incantation is Monstrat Fractura."

As he had said at the beginning, they didn't practice the rather simple spell for long. Not ten minutes passed until Potter told them to get towards the wooden floor for spell practice.

"Today, I want to repeat all shield charms that we've learnt: Protego, the simplest of them all. Its power depends on the power of the caster and is mostly used with rather simple spells. Deflecto is a more difficult charm and it means to return a spell to the attacker. Be careful, this spell only works with certain magic. Spells that intend to hurt you like Lacero cannot be returned unless you want to injure the other person."

Finch-Fletchely interrupted at that point, "Wait! I mean when a Death Eater attacks you, you usually want to hurt them, too. Right?"

"I give the question to those who already had to fight for their lives," Potter said looking at his two best friends, Longbottom, Miss Weasley and Miss Lovegood.

Miss Weasley answered, "Not really. The main goal was to survive, not to harm the ones who attacked us."

Smith snorted, "So, you were scared."

Longbottom stepped forward, "Of course she was. We all were."

The other boy sneered, "I thought so."

"What is that supposed to mean?" Weasley asked aggressively. Potter looked rather annoyed but well composed as if such discussions happened regularly.

"Well, you didn't seem to have been acting like Gryffindors at the Ministry."

Potter raised his eyebrows, he most definitely looked angry now, "Hermione, Ginny, Luna, Ron and Neville were extraordinarily brave, Zacharias. They shouldn't have been there in the first place, and yet they were fighting bravely. Unless you have been in the same situation you aren't able to judge it."

Smith seemed to have waited for Potter to be involved for he immediately attacked, "And you are never scared. Great Harry Potter! Not afraid of anything or anybody."

Maybe, it wasn't such a fanclub after all.

Potter looked as if the Hufflepuff had slapped him. All the others started to shout at Smith, Weasley draw his wand at the same time as the fifth year.

"Distrahes!" Potter shouted sharply. As if pulled back by an invisible hand, both his best friend and Smith were parted.

"Enough! What is the matter with you, Zacharias? You already arrived in a bad mood." With his hands he rubbed his eyes. For a moment he looked as tired as Dream's Colour had alluded. He breathed out with a sigh and continued: "As for what you said… Seeing Voldemort causes my blood to run cold. He's hunted my nightmares ever since the end of my first year at Hogwarts, long before he had regained power. Being scared is the wrong word to describe my feelings when I encounter him. Petrified is a better one. I am… He…" he shuddered desperately trying to compose himself, "I will meet him again. I don't know when or under what circumstances, but I will see him again and we will not be having a conversation. He sees me, he kills me that is all he wants. I am sixteen years old while Voldemort is over sixty and one of the most powerful wizards in the world. I'd be a fool not to fear him."

Whatever Smith had wanted to say, he remained speechless. Snape understood the sentiment. He hadn't expected this from the Boy-who-Lived. He truly hadn't. And yet it shouldn't surprise him.

"Protego, Deflecto," Potter continued his class as if nothing special had occurred, "then Defendo, it is a more powerful form of Protego, very good to defend others. It is a spell that can be cast with its manifestation fifty feet away from you. It takes a lot of control to do that, however. I myself prefer Protego since Defendo is a spell that requires visualization of the shield. Then a new spell I want you to learn for today is Contego. It's more a ward than a shield that is created by this spell. It's very strong, but difficult. With it you can protect a group of people but be careful about its use since it practically draws a circle: Nobody can get in, but nobody can leave either before the spell is lifted. It is a seventh year charm that solely responds to your magical signature which means it cannot be lifted by anybody else but yourself unless you d… the spell loses its strength over time, however."

Again Potter received full attention; Miss Granger seemed to be as attentive as she was with any other teacher.

"Get into pairs and start. I'll walk around."

While the others went to the training floor, Dobby went to Potter, "Harry Potter, Dobby is leaving now, sir."

"Alright, Dobby. Thank you very much for coming tonight and thanks for the feet."

"You is welcome, Harry Potter. Dobby likes helping the great wizard that is Harry Potter." The ‘great wizard’ blushed so deeply, his skin-colour suddenly resembled the Weasleys' hair colour. With a 'pop' the house-elf was gone.

"The little guy likes you," Mr Zabini observed. It was rare to see the thoughtful young man smile so openly. If possible Potter blushed even further and all of a sudden he looked like a young child, especially when he timidly smiled at Zabini who laughed a little. It was hard to believe that they were here training for a war.

To his great surprise Miss Bulstrode had paired up with Longbottom while Miss Lovegood was the Partner of Mr Zabini. It had taken him three days to convince the newly-sorted Slytherins to sleep in separate dorms six years ago. He remembered their endless discussions.

Miss Bulstrode's mother was Mr Zabini's father's twin sister. They had grown up practically next to each other and the mothers were best friends since they were but small children. These days they lived on the same large estate only in different houses. They'd practically grown up as sister and brother, a deep friendship connecting the cousins.

He remembered how scared Miss Bulstrode had been when Zabini was sorted, she had been so afraid they could be sorted into different houses.

They were nearly inseparable and when there had been the order to team up it had always been them to be a pair. He wondered how Potter had managed to team them up differently and more importantly, why they seemed to be very content with the alternative.

Why Longbottom of all people? Miss Bulstrode would never learn anything with the idiot. Mr Zabini and Miss Lovegood he thought an interesting and wise choice.

They started to practice. Potter had told them to attack alternately with the stunning spell, disarming, Furnunculus and the impediment jinx.

A short time later the room was filled with incantations. Potter moved among the pairs rather elegantly, blocking spells (wordlessly) that went astray nearly hitting him. Minerva had told him of Potter's ability to see through the eyes of an instructor, looking at his friends as pupils not comrades, but to actually see it was a different experience.

("Ginny be careful with that stunning spell, your aim is a little off.")

("Well done, Zacharias." – Why would he praise a person who had nothing but ill words for him?)

Longbottom struggled with the Contego Charm, he was unable to draw the shield. Potter was instructing the Creevey brothers, so Snape decided to step forward.

"Longbottom, I've been aware of your clumsiness ever since the first day you attended to my class, however I've always been under the misconception that your disabilities are limited to Potions and Transfiguration. I am not sure whether to thank you or not for proving the contrary." The sneering tone of his voice was heard by every single member of the DA. Longbottom fretted and managed to miss Milicent Bulstrode with his stunning spell, nearly hitting Macmillan who had stood only few feet away hadn't Snape cast a silent Contego Charm of his own to protect the Hufflepuff.

"Your incompetence astounds me everyday anew, Longbottom. It is a miracle you even manage to hold your wand." As if on cue, the idiotic boy stumbled back.

"Fear does that to you, Professor," Potter suddenly stepped in between his friend and the Potions Master.

He than turned his attention to Neville, "You are doing well, Neville. Why don't you practice the spells from last week? I'll be right there with you to look at Contego." He looked in the eyes of the timid boy and laid a hand on his left shoulder. Longbottom seemed to straighten up under the touch, looking much more confident.

"Professor Snape, may I have a word with you, please?" that wasn't defiance… It wasn't the usual expression of loathing, either… Potter looked angry and… disappointed?

He mentioned the others to keep on with their practice.

They walked away; Potter raised his wand and murmured a Muffilato Charm. Their conversation would be private.

"Sir, do you not like the way I teach?" Snape furrowed his eyebrows in return.

"Why, Potter? Can't you take criticism?"

"That is no problem, sir. However, if you have a problem with anything going on I want you to come to me." Potter always seemed short to him, right this moment he seemed a little taller, standing upright.

He wouldn't be frightened by sixteen-year-old.

"Really, Potter? I didn't know you were in charge."

"Actually, I am, sir. Professor McGonagall accepted the fact this club was lead by a student. The supervisor's job is to make sure that nobody gets hurt and everything is in order… It is not the supervisor's job to chastise or belittle a student, sir. If you believe I teach them wrongly you, of course, can tell this openly in class, while being as scathing as I know you can be on a regular basis. I will not have you belittle them. Besides, Contego is a new spell. Neville tried it ahead before I said anything more about it since shield spells are his specialty." Snape stared at the brat sneering as well as he could muster. The speech had impressed him, beside himself.

"Ten points from Gryffindor for impertinent behaviour," he hissed between his teeth.

"I am sorry, sir. I meant no disrespect. Let me speak to you frankly,” as if he wasn’t doing that already, “You are a good instructor, especially with the skilful Potions students. You let us work independently, which is a truly wonderful idea, but you completely lack in having patience with those who struggle. Neville has a sense of smell that is remarkable, he could have become a great brewer, but I doubt he'll ever touch a cauldron again. And he is a fantastic student. I will prove that to you."

This time Snape didn't take any points for Potter turned around lifting the spell. He walked back to the group and watched them practice. The Potions professor stood rooted on the spot.

A keen sense of smell? Longbottom? It was hard to imagine, but he'd be quiet for now and watch patiently.

"Anybody already tried Contego?" Longbottom timidly lifted his hand, as did Miss Granger. Her face displayed frustration.

"Let me demonstrate it first." To Snape's astonishment, several earmuffs and eye bandages appeared. Without hesitation all of them picked them up.

"Professor Snape, could you please send a Reducto towards the cushion lying over there?"

With his eyebrows raised, he pointed his wand at the cushion and nonverbally did as Potter had asked. Before his spell hit Potter's cushion, the young wizard cried, "Contego!"

The attack was absorbed by the shield, the cushion undamaged.

"Thank you, sir. We will repeat this exercise five times, if that is alright for you." Snape only nodded and raised his wand again, but Potter lifted his hand telling him to wait.

The students picked up the earmuffs and put them on. Bewildered Snape looked at the Boy Who Lived, who nodded. Not quite understanding what the meaning of it all was. he casted the spell that was countered by Potter's shield.

They repeated the lesson five times. Each time, the children did something else: At first the earmuffs, then the eye bandages, then both. At the fourth time they all followed Potter's wand movement while the last time, each did something else: Miss Granger, both Weasleys and Mr Zabini put on the earmuffs (most of them did), Longbottom too who also put on the eye bandage, Miss Lovegood only the eye bandage, Miss Bulstrode followed the wand movement. It was rather strange to watch.

Potter seemed unfazed.

He closed his eyes and within seconds all devices disappeared.

"Does anybody want me to repeat it?" All shook their heads, while some seemed confident, others a little more hesitant.

"As always, the visual ones among you gather around Ron and Hermione. They will be able to instruct you far better than I am."

Half of the DA ('Fantastic,' he thought sarcastically, 'When have I started to think of this rebellion group as DA?') followed Miss Granger and her hopefully-soon-to-be-boyfriend who started to practice.

The others trained a little closer to Potter. Nevertheless, the boy… (brat!) supervised them all, giving hints.

"Contego," much more confident than before Longbottom spoke his incantation. This time, Miss Bulstrode's Stunning spell was absorbed by the shield.

"Yes," Potter exclaimed merrily, "Well done! How does it smell?"

Longbottom laughed a little, "It's hard to explain, a little like wood standing in the rain for too long. How does it feel?"

Potter smiled, "Like a blanket that is put around you on a winter's day."

Not for the first time this evening, Snape nearly lost composure. He understood what Longbottom talked about.

Spells smelled, every single incantation was a little different from the other. Snape differentiated them through eyes and smell, but Longbottom?

For the first time in fifteen years Snape doubted his way of teaching. Could that timid, shy boy have been as a great brewer as Potter said? Had he been more attentive, would he have picked up Longbottom's flair for smells? Would he be in his NEWT class these days?

Thinking about, it he knew that he couldn't have helped the Gryffindor for he was after all a spy and the Longbottom's were so-called blood-traitors. Still…

Snape tried to clear his mind by shaking his head.

For half an hour, they practiced the new spell and while none of them truly mastered it, it was remarkable how strong it already was. Not few adults struggled with this kind of spell.

Potter clapped his hands to get his friends' attention, the wooden floor disappeared.

"So, today will be our first practical in tactics, so please have patience with me." The others smiled at the young man, who suddenly seemed a bit shy.

"At first, we'll just practice and then we will look at what has to be improved."

He stood before them, looking serious.

"It is highly unlikely for you to ever meet Voldemort face to face. If you do it's very likely you will be terribly out-numbered. For tonight I am going to be him and I want you to attack me separately." He lifted his wand and casted a jet of green light, "As soon as this spell hits you, the next can come since I want you to look at it as the killing curse. Notice that it is slightly slower than the actual spell, but there is no better alternative. This," a jet of yellow light left Potter's wand, "Is the equivalent of Cruciatus. I will bring tricks into play Death Eaters and Voldemort use, so be attentive."

"What if we beat you?" the disrespectful behaviour of Smith started to annoy the Potions Master.

Potter smiled, "That person will have to deal with Professor Snape."

The shier look of horror on the students' eyes caused the insufferable brat to actually laugh while 'bat of the dungeons' struggled with his composure. "If this is alright for you, Sir?"

The experienced wizard could only nod, which didn't go unnoticed by anybody.

"Let's start! All the others, please sit right next to the door." He walked into the field that seemed to be their new training place. While Potter walked, he looked secure, but Snape simply didn't have the heart to think of it as arrogant.

Miss Granger came first. Her wand lifted, her face displaying deepest concentration when facing Potter.

"This isn't a duel," Potter explained, "Think of it as a fight to the death. Don't believe anything you hear."

Miss Granger understood the hint and immediately attacked with a Stunning Spell, but Potter deflected it nonverbally immediately attacking with a green jet of light. The second she kept her position to shield it, she already knew she'd lost.

"Stupid," she murmured as she walked back, "Trying to shield an Unforgivable. So stupid." She definitely was angry at herself.

Potter stood there, not arrogant but completely focused.

His best friend was next in the line that had formed by now. Instead of attacking directly, he ran towards one of the hills nearby while abruptly jumping from one side on the other. It was an impressively tactical approach by the normally foolhardy Gryffindor.

Potter laughed silently and cold, "Trying to outrun me, Ronald Weasley?" The other one stood rooted on the spot when Potter's ‘killing curse’ hit. They stared at each other and the red-haired boy smirked a little, shaking his head obviously having understood his mistake to react to the taunting.

And so it went on, it was obvious the others didn't stand much of a chance against Potter, his taunting was rather soft, but it was enough to disconcert them. Miss Weasley had been rather impressive. She was actually able to hide in the cornfield, but Potter conjured a snake thanks to Serpensortia and sent her into the field. Only a minute later, they heard a shriek and Potter instantly hit the spot with his curse. Miss Weasley came forward while the snake followed. She looked ashamed and furious at the same time.

The Parselmouth had obviously given the order only to find but not to kill.

When Mr Smith stepped forward, Snape briefly wondered how terribly the constantly criticizing boy would be treated by Potter and was surprised to see that he wasn't taunted more harshly than his friends.

Smith came forward immediately attacking with green sparks and yelling, "If you were Voldemort, I would simply try to kill you."

Within seconds a rock appeared between them and when the ‘killing curse’ hit, the Boy Who Lived casted a shield, while the rock exploded (remarkably alike to the way Avada Kedavra managed to destroy stone). While Potter was away far enough to only be hit a little, Smith would have been hit by the blow if his opponent hadn't cast a Contego.

At least, the Hufflepuff had the sense to recognize his defeat. He looked furious, but unlike the others not with himself but with Potter.

Then his Slytherins came. Proudly, he could see Miss Bulstrode being untouched by Potter's taunting who quickly changed tactics by praising her. This threw her off balance and a moment later, their fight was over as well.

Last, was Mr Zabini who had the advantage of having seen Potter fight several times by now. He immediately took cover behind a hill, destroyed the snake that was sent at him and managed to send some impressive spells towards his opponent. For a moment, it looked as if Snape would have to fight his clever pupil, but then the Boy-who-Lived answered to Mr Zabini's Furnunculus with a Disarming charm that caused the pupil to be thrown back, his wand lost.

"I think we both know what kind of spell he'd have used," Potter said quietly.

There was silence for a moment before everybody questioned Potter about the tricks he'd used while fighting.

"First of all, before we analyze this, let me explain: I am not suddenly all-powerful. Since I created this training room I can change it the way I want, which is why the rock appeared and exploded like this. However, that was a realistic demonstration of what Voldemort does when attacked by the killing curse. I've seen it last summer." He didn't elaborate, but clearly he alluded to the fight between the two most powerful wizards currently walking this earth, "Avada Kedavra cannot be shielded, but you can make it hit something else instead of you. The same goes for the Cruciatus, not for Imperius though. That one can even work through walls. The Unforgivable respond to power: the stronger the caster, the more powerful the charm. What I want to say is that the rock I 'conjured' without any magical enforcement would have been burst by one of Voldemort’s curses and you would have been dead, still. So, just don't get hit."

Again there was a moment of silence.

"My taunting took the first ones of you aback, but I was proud to see that you stopped taking it seriously very quickly. I played on your weaknesses, which is exactly what Voldemort would do. He's got a unique ability to break people through the shier power of words; he senses their weaknesses and uses them for his advantage. He can torture you as well as seduce you." Snape had to look away knowing precisely what the young wizard meant, "He told me once that there have always been those willing to let him into their hearts and minds and he knows exactly what to say to do it."

"And you are immune to that," This time Snape had to contain himself not to snarl at Smith to finally keep his mouth shut.

"He never tried. He killed my parents." The answer was simple, but the teacher very well noticed that Potter wasn't foolish enough to claim himself to be ‘immune to darkness.’ As long as the boy knew that, he would never turn dark.

"The things I said were rather soft. Nevertheless, I want you to look within yourself and to realize all the things I could have said. I wouldn't, but he would." He looked at Mr Longbottom while saying this. Snape had very well noticed how careful Potter had chosen his words around the boy, yet he was right: the Dark Lord would use Longbottom's parents and his low self-esteem to break the boy. The facial expression of his former Potions student indicated that he recognized it as well.

"Blimey," Mr Zabini exclaimed. Shocked, everybody (including his Head of House) looked at him, "It's a good thing you use your talents to heal and not to hurt, Harry."

"I don't heal…" Where had the confident boy gone? Watching Potter was suddenly like looking at a small child that was unaccustomed to praise.

"Rubbish," Weasley said, "Blaise is right. You demonstrated tonight how well you not only know us, Hermione and me, but how well you know everybody in the DA, yet you never taunt us when we don't work things out as fast as Hermione, for example. You don't want to hurt us, they would. Thanks for reminding us." Confirming mutters were heard from the others. The grateful look on Potter's face indicated how terribly insecure he had been about how his taunting would be received by the others, especially his hot-headed red-haired friend.

"You've got a great tactical mind, Ron," he said, "There is a reason nobody beats you in chess. I wanted to take you aback by pondering on that talent since you respond to insults the same way you do to unexpected praise: you freeze."

The other nodded. Usually he would have blushed, but now he looked thoughtful.

Potter addressed them all, "Are you interested in those practical exercises in tactics for I thought about alternating between practice and theory every other week?" they all seemed eager, their answers were all in the affirmative, "You have done well tonight. Does anybody have a problem or is there something you want to include in the next lesson?"

"There is no chance, we can practice the Patronus on Dementors, is there?"

"I am afraid not," Potter answered, but then Miss Weasley said, "Why don't you catch a boggart?"

The slightly older boy laughed a little, it sounded hollow, "I'm afraid that Dementors aren't the things I fear the most, Ginny."

"What do you fear the most?" Was Macmillan intentionally dense?

Potter didn't seem angry, rather thoughtful, "These days, I fear many things, Ernie. What I fear the most is a form the boggart cannot take." The cryptic answer caused the Potions Master to become curious.

"Anything else?"

Only the young Creevey nodded.

"I think your idea has value, however I don't want any younger members in the DA." The boy's face fell, "I thought about it during the lesson and I think I found the solution. I'll ask Professor McGonagall if it is possible to establish another club for the classes up to third year. They will only learn defence spells, disarming and other minor incantations. The club would be lead by the members of the DA."

The boy looked even sadder, "But I am…"

"Merlin, Dennis, no!" Potter laughed a little, "I would never banish you from the DA. You are our youngest, that is true and therefore you are the little brother of us all. We won't abandon you."

Within seconds the young Creevey brightened up blushing deeply at the same time.

With an intense smile the instructor of the DA looked at his pupils wishing them all a goodnight and thanking the Potions Master for his presence.

When Professor Snape opened the door to follow the majority that had already left, he saw Smith approaching Potter menacingly. He decided to stay.

"I need to talk to you," The fifth year said coldly. The boy (brat!) nodded and gestured him to speak.

"Why did you attack Kevin this morning?"

Potter seemed honestly confused, "Kevin?"

"Kevin Withby, a Hufflepuff, you frightened them by speaking Parseltounge. He now serves detention with Mr Filch for the rest of the week."

Confusion morphed over realization to suppressed anger within seconds, "You mean Withby, the third year Hufflepuff who outnumbered a pair of two second year Slytherins together with his friends? He acted cowardly and I didn't really frighten them, I simply meant to stop them from bullying those two kids."

"Bully them? Harry, those are Slytherins," said Justin Finch-Fletchley who had approached them, too. Snape knew that he was friends with Withby despite the age-difference.

Potter looked taken aback, "Slytherins? You think this explains it?" Far angrier than he had been with the third years he stared at his friend, "There were six of them, altogether a year older than the two whom they have attacked! I don't care what house they go to or who they are. Outnumbering people who are younger or attacking people weaker than you is not only unfair, it is despicable. Those people are bullies!" he looked at the two with a look that would have received admiration from a Basilisk. "You might think that I grew up with people who worshipped the ground I walked on, but you are wrong. Being outnumbered, your escape route cut off, awaiting the humiliation is a feeling I know exactly how to relate to. Those two Slytherins are acquainted with the sentiment, too. It's terrible and makes you feel completely powerless. I…" It was the first time, Snape ever saw Potter truly distressed: his hand was over his mouth, obviously trying to contain himself, "It's not right and your friends did just that. I hope they see reason and apologize for what they did." For some reason he smiled as if being reminded of something good, "They might be surprised how much it means to the ones whose power they had taken away."

At that, Snape didn't need to listen anymore. Smith wouldn't attack Potter, he looked as flabbergasted as he felt.

Desperately trying not to think, the Potions Master left the Room of Requirement walking towards the dungeons.

With that small speech, Potter had managed to completely rip apart Snape's view of him.

He had been wrong about James Potter's son…

So terribly wrong.

That boy was Lily, maybe not by looks but in heart.

The headmaster had told him so, Moody had told him so, Minerva, Poppy Pomfrey, and even the phoenix had, were the bird able to talk.

He halted in his steps, putting his Occlumency shields into place to get hold of his confusion.

Thousands of questions ran through his mind, leaving only one big question:

Who was Harry Potter?

He knew the boy for six years, but was completely unable to find the answer.

Snape continued his journey towards his office and in order to divert his thoughts, he focused back on the DA lessons…

Professor Potter…

Had he spoken the words aloud, they would have sounded rather thoughtful.