Snape deftly measured out three regular doses of the Levatio Potion into the glass phial and stoppered it, setting it to one side. This would be Potter's last triple-strength dose - hopefully, at least. He was going to scan Potter again after he finished his breakfast, just to be certain. It was very much a matter of needing to be safe rather than sorry when it came to the Boy-Who-Lived.

Opening his storage cabinet, Snape then took out a box of smaller crystal phials, all of them spelled to be unbreakable, and began filling them as well. He'd refilled his supply yesterday, but it had occurred to him when he'd woken up this morning that it might be a wise idea to give a supply of doses to Potter as well. This way, he wouldn't be disturbed in the middle of the night when Potter had a vision, and when school started again, he'd only have to worry about it when Potter ran out.

Once he finished that, he placed them back in the box, which he slipped into his pocket, and summoned one of the house-elves to get him Potter's breakfast. It was eight o'clock - the boy should be up by now. Even if he had stayed up late last night and was tired, Snape had never known anyone not to wake up by this hour if they were in the hospital wing, unless they'd been dosed with a sleeping potion or were unconscious for some reason or another. The sunlight that streamed in the windows there generally assured that the patients woke up at the crack of dawn.

The house-elf who responded was the one called Dobby - a very gaudily-dressed elf whom Snape remembered as having been a servant of the Malfoys until a couple of years ago. He had somehow befriended Potter, and ended up being fired - or being freed, if one looked at it the same way as Granger appeared to - near the end of the boy's second year. Snape wouldn't be surprised if the whole thing had something to do with the events surrounding the Chamber of Secrets, but he'd never bothered to ask.

"Here, Professor Snape, sir," the house-elf squeaked, putting a full tray on his desk. "Master Harry Potter's breakfast, sir."

"Thank you," Snape replied courteously. It was never wise to insult house-elves; they had a number of seemingly innocent ways to make one's life miserable unless one kept them absolutely terrified - as Lucius Malfoy did - and even that never served well in the end.

The house-elf didn't disappear, however. "Dobby could take Master Harry Potter's breakfast up to him, Professor Snape, sir," he offered.

"That will be unnecessary," Snape replied, as he put the phial of Levatio Potion on the tray, and then picked up the bottle containing Potter's last dose of Healing Draught from his lab table. "As it happens, I need to check on Mr. Potter personally."

"Very well, Professor Snape, sir," the house-elf replied, and disappeared.

Shaking his head, Snape lifted the tray up and headed for the hospital wing.

Potter looked up as soon as he opened the door, closing the book he'd been reading and slipping it onto an already full bedside table. Snape shot a quick glance around the area of the boy's bed, noting the textbooks piled up at the foot on top of the covers, the green jumper - undoubtedly from Molly Weasley - on the chair, and the boxes on the bedside table as he walked over.

Potter stared at him for a moment, and then said - almost hesitantly - "Good morning, sir."

Snape raised an eyebrow at him, and then placed the tray carefully on the bed and handed the triple-strength dose of Levatio to him. "Drink," he ordered.

Potter obediently swallowed the potion, and then automatically took the Healing Draught from the tray and drank it as well.

Shooting another quick glance around the area, Snape finally took the jumper off the chair and sat down, as Potter started his breakfast. The boy looked faintly surprised at that - he obviously hadn't expected Snape to stay - but didn't say anything.

"Have you finished reading the books, Potter?" Snape asked finally, when the boy was about halfway through his meal.

"Yes, sir." Potter met his eyes easily.

So, not lying then. Good. "We will not be beginning the actual lessons until this afternoon, but since I have to remain in order to check you after you have finished eating, do you have any general questions so far that you wish to ask about the contents of the books?"

Potter gaped at him for a moment, this time unable to hid his surprise, and Snape felt a touch of exasperation. Admittedly, this wasn't something he would usually say to a student, unless they were in his Advanced Potions class, but these lessons were for Potter's benefit, and he should be getting everything he could out of them. "Well?" Snape prompted, letting a hint of irritation enter his tone. "Did you comprehend everything in the books so completely that there is no need for me to teach you?"

Potter blinked, seeming to come back to himself. "Er... no, sir... and yes, I do have questions..." He paused, and then continued, "I noticed that the Levatio Potion was mentioned in the potions text, but the instructions for brewing it weren't included, although there were instructions for every other potion mentioned. Why?"

It was a surprisingly intelligent question. Maybe, just maybe, these tutorial sessions wouldn't be as much of a nuisance as he'd feared they would be - not if Potter was finally willing to make use of his brain.

"Brewing the Levatio Potion involves a very complex procedure," Snape began. "If any errors are made, at any stage, it will result in a deadly and exceedingly corrosive poison. It's mentioned in the book because it is the only known remedy for the effects of the Cruciatus curse, but it is not the type of potion that an amateur should attempt. All the other potions in the book are reasonably simple to brew, with no serious side-effects - aside from the fact that they simply will not work - if mistakes are made in the brewing process."

Potter nodded in acknowledgement, and then a thoughtful look crossed his face. "Are you going to be teaching me about all of these subjects, sir?" he asked, gesturing toward the textbooks.

"I would have thought that would be obvious, Potter," Snape replied coldly. And here he'd actually thought that Potter was starting to use his intelligence to do more than simply get into trouble...

"It's just... every Defence teacher we've had seems to have had a speciality," Potter continued. "I mean... like Professor Lupin's was Dark creatures, and... Crouch's was curses..."

"And did you actually consider any of your previous Defence teachers to be good teachers?" Snape demanded.

"Professor Lupin was," Potter replied.

Snape sneered in distaste. Of course James Potter's son would defend Lupin. Yes, the werewolf's knowledge of Dark creatures was extensive, but... "And what if he'd had to teach you about curses? Believe me, Potter, that was one subject that Lupin never did terribly well in.

"A good Defence teacher would be teaching a well-rounded curriculum to each year's students, incorporating all the various forms of Defence - not teach only their own particular speciality. What would happen if they did manage to stay for more than one year? The first-years would get completely new lessons - but what about the rest of the students? Admittedly, the seventh-year curriculum involves more dangerous things than the first-year curriculum, but if the teacher focuses on just one aspect of Defence, what will happen when the students go out into the world and have to face something they haven't been prepared for - but should have been? Have you ever considered that?

"In answer to your question - yes, Mr. Potter, we will be covering all these subjects over the next month; some in more detail than others, depending on the breadth of your current knowledge, but we will deal with all of them."

Potter was staring at him, and it was very clear from the expression on his face that he had never considered the situation surrounding Defence Against the Dark Arts the way Snape had just presented it to him. "I... never thought about it like that," the boy admitted slowly.

"Obviously." Snape studied him for a moment. Perhaps it would be best if he were to leave the boy to think about that for a while - it might even provoke some additional insight for the discussions he had planned. He eyed the breakfast tray thoughtfully. Potter had eaten most of the food, and was currently playing absently with a piece of toast. "Have you finished with your breakfast?"

Potter glanced down at the tray, and flushed slightly as he noticed what he was doing. "Yes, sir."

"Good." Snape stood up, and before Potter could move away, placed his hand on the boy's head in preparation for scanning him. "Stay still," he ordered, and began.

Harry froze as he felt that same bizarre probing sensation as he had on Friday night, in the Dursleys' lounge, when Snape had done the same thing - put one hand on his head and ordered him to stay still. The sensation was, however, a bit lighter this time - almost as though the first one had been a general... well, probe, and this time it was more specific in what it was looking for. He even forgot - for a moment - the embarrassment he felt as a result of Snape's lecture about Defence, trying to work out what was going on.

Abruptly, the sensation stopped, and Snape removed his hand, studying Harry carefully, almost as though he were a potion ingredient the professor was trying to analyze - or something like that, at least.

"What was that, sir?" Harry asked.

Snape looked directly at him. "What do you mean, Potter?"

"What were you doing? That... probing..."

Snape's eyes narrowed and fixed on Harry's face with an unnerving intensity. "Were you able to feel what I was doing, Potter?"

"Yes, sir," Harry replied. "It... was the same sort of thing as on Friday night, wasn't it?"

Snape didn't answer his question - at least, not directly. "What did it feel like?"

"Umm..." Harry hesitated for a moment, and then answered, "Almost as though something was probing, underneath my skin. What was it?"

The Potions master continued to stare at Harry for a long moment. It was beginning to make him uncomfortable - having Snape stare at him was never a good thing.

Then, just as Harry was about ready to repeat his question - again - Snape reached into his robes and removed a small box.

"This contains a dozen regular doses of Levatio Potion, each in its own phial. I suggest you keep it in your trunk, in case of another vision.

"You are to remain in bed until tomorrow at noon, in order to enable your body to finish healing the last of the damage caused by your visions.

"Your work for today will be to write out a list of all the charms, curses, hexes, and jinxes that you can do, and explain how they can be used in a Defence situation. You are permitted to consult the textbook, but I expect to see at least some originality in your responses. I will send a house-elf up with parchment, a quill and ink.

"I will see you in my office at one o'clock precisely tomorrow afternoon, with your list, the books, and plenty of parchment for taking notes."

With that, Snape turned around and stalked off in the direction of the door.

"Sir..." Harry started, wanting to know what was going on. Why hadn't Snape answered his question?

"You know what you have to do today, Mr. Potter. I suggest you get started." Snape paused for a moment, and then continued, "We will discuss your last question later." With that, he walked out the door, leaving Harry alone and completely confused.

What was that all about? Harry wondered, as he stared in the direction of the door. What did Snape just do?

He was about to start trying to put the pieces of the puzzle together when Dobby abruptly appeared by his bed, holding the promised supplies. "Professor Snape is asking Dobby to bring these to Harry Potter, sir," the house-elf declared.

"Thanks, Dobby," Harry replied, taking them from him and putting the ink bottle on the bedside table, on top of the safe-box.

"Dobby is also thinking that Harry Potter might like this," Dobby added, scrambling up onto the chair and handing Harry a portable desk - one of the ones Madam Pomfrey kept on hand for when students were in the hospital wing for days, but could still do their work.

Harry grinned. "Wonderful! That's perfect, Dobby!"

"Harry Potter is most welcome. When would Harry Potter sir like his lunch?"

"At about twelve o'clock would be fine, Dobby," Harry said absent-mindedly, as he started to arrange the parchment and the textbooks on the portable desk. The house-elf nodded, and then disappeared, leaving Harry alone once again.

Well, he had two choices. He could either try thinking about what Snape had done, or he could work on the assignment the Potions master had given him for tomorrow.

Snape had said that they would be talking about that probing thing... and Harry simply didn't have enough information to know exactly what it was. It obviously had something to do with determining how he was recovering from the Cruciatus curse after-effects, or there would have been no reason for Snape to do it; but Harry wasn't sure how they were related. Certainly Madam Pomfrey had never done anything like that before.

Working on the assignment was probably the better idea at the moment - especially since, thinking about the fact that Snape had ordered him to do a list of all the charms that he knew, Harry had the feeling that the professor would be expecting the equivalent of an essay tomorrow. Which meant that he'd better get started now.

"Is that from Harry?" George demanded.

"Let us see--" Fred started.

Their mother suddenly looked up from the letter she was reading. "Never you mind, Fred, George," she said firmly. "You are both well aware that mail is private. If there are any messages in there for you, I'm sure Ron will inform you."

The three boys stared at her in a certain amount of surprise, and even Ginny looked rather astonished at her reaction.

"Right... well... I guess I'll just... head up to my room..." Ron said hesitantly, thankful that he'd at least had the chance to finish breakfast before Pig had shown up. Pushing away from the table, still puzzled by his mother's reaction to the twins' request, he headed up the stairs. Once he was in his room, he finally looked at the envelope itself.

He wasn't terribly surprised to see the Hogwarts crest on the back.

Mr. Ronald Weasley,

I am certain that Mr. Potter appreciates your offer to visit the school over the summer in order to spend time with him; however, I am afraid that I cannot permit either yourself or Miss Granger to come.

It is absolutely imperative that neither Voldemort nor any of the Death Eaters learn that Mr. Potter is in residence at Hogwarts; both for his own safety, and that of a number of others - including both your family and Miss Granger's. For this reason, I must insist that you do not tell anyone other than your parents - not even your brothers or sister - where Mr. Potter is. I do understand that some secrets can be hard to keep, especially from family; however, I am sure that your experiences over the past four years have shown you that it is sometimes necessary to do so. This is one of those times.

I have also written a letter to your parents, explaining the above situation, and informed Mr. Potter of my decision. I leave it up to you to inform Miss Granger.

Sincerely,

Albus Dumbledore
Headmaster, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry
(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock, Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)

Bloody hell - poor Harry! He'd be stuck at the school for an entire month with only the teachers and the ghosts to keep him company; he was going to go crazy with boredom!

It was obviously a good thing that Ron hadn't yet had a chance to tell the twins and Ginny that Harry was at Hogwarts, considering the way Dumbledore had emphasized the need for secrecy in the letter (he wouldn't have told Percy anyway, not with the way he still looked up to Fudge). He'd meant to, last night at dinner, but his father had started asking Fred and George about their plans for Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes during the school year, considering that they were going to be working on their N.E.W.Ts, and they had still been discussing it when dinner ended. In hindsight, Ron couldn't help but wonder if his father had perhaps anticipated Dumbledore's orders. It was certainly possible...

So now all he had to do was write a letter to Hermione to let her know. With a sigh, Ron pulled a piece of parchment and a quill out of his desk, and began.

When he'd left Potter in the hospital wing, he'd started back toward his rooms - only to be intercepted partway there by Fawkes. The phoenix had then led him up to Dumbledore's office, where he'd found himself confronted by a desk full of letters. It seemed most of the new first-years had decided to wait until today to send in their acceptances. Typical.

This should be Minerva's job, he thought sourly, not mine. But no - she has to be in Ireland...

Not that he wanted to - much less could - do what the deputy headmistress was doing over there; but still, he had his own duties to see to, and Dumbledore had gone and dumped the responsibility for Potter in his lap...

At least the boy was still restricted to bed until tomorrow, in order to let his body finish healing. Snape really didn't want to think about what kind of trouble Potter would get up to over the next month if he wasn't kept busy.

Well, the list he'd requested would certainly keep Potter occupied for today - and, with any luck, tomorrow morning as well, until he was allowed out of bed. He would be interested to see both what Potter knew, and what sort of Defence strategies he could come up with for some of the more supposedly innocuous spells - such as the Cheering Charm.

It actually appeared that giving him that assignment this morning was going to work out well, despite the fact that his lesson plan for today had been replaced; originally Snape had planned a discussion about the definition of Defence Against the Dark Arts, with the list of spells as homework either tonight or tomorrow. The revelation that Potter had been able to feel his scan - which meant that the boy had to be a Sensitive - had changed those plans. Snape wasn't quite ready to discuss the Sensitive's gift with the boy just yet. He'd made an instant decision to have Potter write out the list today, as an assignment in lieu of class; which had the added benefit of the fact that he would be able to get some insight into the way Potter thought about Defence before their first actual lesson.

Of course, it also now meant that he had the entire day available to do paperwork.

With a sigh of exasperation, Snape picked up the list of prospective first-years - which Dumbledore had left prominently displayed in the middle of the desk - and began reading the responses and ticking off the names of those who had accepted.

Abruptly Errol - who was settled on the perch Hermione had bought last year - gave a weary hoot and hunkered down, ruffling his ragged feathers. Looking around to see what had prompted the owl's reaction, Hermione saw the brown spot flying toward her window just in time to open it before Pigwidgeon crashed into the glass.

Luckily, Pig seemed to be in the mood to behave, because he immediately dropped the letter he was carrying onto her desk and flew over to join Errol, rather than playing his favourite game of aerial acrobatics.

Hermione picked the letter up, unsealed it, and began to read.

Hermione,

I just got a reply from Dumbledore this morning. He said we aren't going to be allowed to visit because it's too likely that we'll draw attention. He also said that I'm not allowed to tell anyone except my parents where Harry is - not even Fred, George, or Ginny. I think my dad sort of expected that, 'cause I was going to tell them last night at dinner, but he kind of re-directed their attention.

Do you have any idea what to do now?

-- Ron

Ron,

Honestly, I'm not really all that surprised that we won't be allowed to visit; as Dumbledore said, it would draw attention - probably the wrong sort - if we were to show up at Hogwarts. As for not telling the twins and Ginny... I'm sure Dumbledore has his reasons. And if your parents agree with him, then they're undoubtedly orders we'd best follow.

Based on your letter, however, Professor Dumbledore didn't say that we couldn't write to Harry, so it's not like we can't communicate with him. In fact, if he's staying at the school, we'll probably get replies back more often, since they won't be forbidding him to write the way the Dursleys do. Altogether, for Harry, at least, this will probably be even better than the summer between second and third year.

By the way, speaking of school reminds me - have you got your homework finished yet? Even the Potions essay was quite interesting - I hadn't realized there were so many different uses for unicorn horn. I think it's very likely we'll be working on healing potions next term, so it might be wise to do a bit of extra studying about them so that Snape has less excuse to take points from us.

-- Hermione

Hermione shook her head as she closed the window, amused as usual by Pig's antics, and then turned her attention to the copy of The Hobbit that she'd been reading earlier.

He'd actually managed to surprise himself with the sheer number of spells he'd learnt over the past four years; it had made for a fairly long list.

As for using them in Defence situations... well, he'd had a bit of trouble with that requirement. Not for the obvious ones, of course - like the Impediment Jinx and the Disarming Charm, to name two - but the less obvious ones. What possible use could an Unlocking Spell or a Cheering Charm be in the middle of a duel or a battle?

Unfortunately, Harry was pretty sure that it was the latter question that was the main focus of this particular assignment, which meant that he couldn't just get away with listing the spells alone and going on. As a result, he'd spent most of the afternoon trying to work out more and more creative ways to use those spells; and even now, he was only about two-thirds done. Luckily, he still had tomorrow morning to finish it - he was going to need it, even if he got some more done tonight.

Sighing, he put the parchment he'd been writing on, and the Defence Charms book, over to one side. He was just about to reach for Strategy: How to Win at Wizard's Chess - which he'd been starting to read this morning when Snape had shown up - when Dobby suddenly appeared with a tray piled high with food.

"Dobby is bringing Harry Potter's dinner, sir," the house-elf declared, placing the tray on the portable desk.

"Thank you, Dobby," Harry replied. "How has your day been?" he added, as he started eating.

"Dobby's day is being very quiet, Harry Potter, sir," Dobby answered. "House-elves is not having much to do at Hogwarts during the summer. Only Professor Snape, Mr. Filch, and the ghosts - and Harry Potter - is being here at the moment." He paused, looking carefully at Harry for a long moment. "Is Harry Potter staying at Hogwarts?"

Harry nodded. "Yes," he said, once he'd finished swallowing. "Professor Dumbledore and... Professor Snape think it would be better if I stayed here for the rest of the summer." And I'm not going to worry about next summer yet. Right now, I've just got to worry about surviving my lessons with Snape. And whatever Voldemort's up to, of course...

Then Harry suddenly thought of something - something he really should have thought of before this. "Dobby, how is Winky?"

Dobby's ears went down. "Winky is not happy, Harry Potter, sir. Winky's old master is being killed by his son, Professor Dumbledore says, and Winky is being very upset."

"Is she still drinking Butterbeer?" Harry asked, feeling worried. Winky had been so distraught when Barty Crouch had told them that he had murdered his father, but Harry hadn't really thought all that much about her since then. Most of his attention had been directed towards his visions of Voldemort, the nightmares of Cedric, and dealing with the Dursleys.

"No, Winky is not drinking," Dobby replied, looking a little bit happier, "but Winky is still unhappy. Dobby is trying to cheer her up, but is not having much luck."

Harry nodded in understanding as he started on his dessert. "At least she's stopped drinking - that's a good thing," he said.

"Dobby knows it takes time," the house-elf said. "But Dobby will tell Winky that Harry Potter sir is asking about her."

"Thank you," Harry repeated, and then put his spoon down on the tray. "Well, I'm finished."

Dobby took the tray. "When would Harry Potter sir like his breakfast?"

"Umm... probably about seven-thirty, please, Dobby. And I'd better have lunch around noon - I have to see Professor Snape at one."

The house-elf nodded, and then disappeared.

The news about Winky was good, Harry reflected, as he picked up the chess book and leaned back against the pillows. He'd have to let Hermione know - she'd be pleased to hear that at least the house-elf wasn't continuing to get drunk. Then he opened the book to where he'd left off this morning, and started reading. He'd work a bit more on the list later - right now, he was going to continue to enjoy a bit more of a break.

It was already after midnight; and while he could survive - and quite often did, during the school year - on less than four hours sleep a night, he much preferred to have a full night's sleep whenever he could. And considering the fact that he still needed to decide what he was going to tell Potter about the Sensitive's gift, to start with, it would probably be best if he were to go straight to bed.

Nonetheless, he found himself wandering in the direction of the hospital wing.

It was a bad habit he'd gotten into, checking on Potter's whereabouts in the middle of the night. It rarely seemed to do any good - Potter had unfortunately become quite skilled at sneaking about the castle at night, and that bloody Invisibility Cloak didn't help - but at least if he kept an eye on things, there was always the chance that he might be able to avert some of the danger the boy tended to get himself into.

Not that he thought Potter would be up and around tonight - the boy had been too shocked by the damage done to him to risk wandering around before he was completely healed; but he was in the castle, and healed enough to be able to wander if he wanted to, and it was a long-standing habit to check on him.

The mere fact that the habit existed - not to mention the reason it existed - irritated Snape no end, and he was almost sorry that he didn't run into Peeves on the way there. The poltergeist was definitely a legitimate target for his temper...

Opening the door to the hospital wing, he silently stalked in and over to the corner where Potter's bed was.

The boy was curled up on top of the blankets, sound asleep, with his glasses still on his face. One hand was loosely holding onto a book, and Snape found himself raising one eyebrow in surprise as he recognized it - a rather good book on chess strategies. Most likely a present, but a very well-chosen one, all things considered.

Well, with the paperwork completed and Potter safely in bed and asleep, he could at least get back to his rooms without--

Not now! Snape almost swore as the pain from the Dark Mark seared through him, summoning him. He heard Potter whimper in pain as he spun around and headed for the door, but he didn't have time to check whether or not the boy had woken up. Not with a summons as urgent as this.

It didn't take him long to get from the hospital wing to the boundary of the wards; he'd learned a number of shortcuts throughout the years. As soon as he was past the boundary, he touched the Mark and Apparated.

Voldemort had - fortunately or unfortunately, depending on which way one chose to look at it - been in a much better mood tonight than he had been on Friday. The fortunate part was that it had meant that Parkinson and Wormtail had been the only ones subjected to the Cruciatus. The unfortunate part was that the Dark Lord had apparently had a reason to be in a better mood.

Whatever it was that Voldemort had hidden in those caches that Arthur Weasley's people at the Ministry had seized, Lucius Malfoy had been able to retrieve them before they'd been brought to anyone's attention.

Snape - along with most of the Death Eaters - still didn't know what 'they' were, nor why Voldemort wanted them so urgently; but he could make a reasonable guess. From what the Dark Lord had said, he suspected that it had something to do with the Dementors of Azkaban.

Personally, Snape hated the Dementors with a vengeance. The weeks he'd spent in Azkaban after Potter had defeated Voldemort the first time had been a horror beyond nightmares; and he'd had the advantage of being in a special section of the prison where he hadn't received the full effect, because Dumbledore had vouched for him. Added to that the viciously powerful effect Dementors seemed to have on Potter... One of the last things Snape wanted to see happen was Voldemort persuading - or even forcing - the Dementors to become his allies.

Reaching his door, the Potions master murmured the password and slipped in as the portrait opened to let him past.

As the portrait closed behind him, Snape reached into his pocket and pulled out a small bundle. Re-enlarging it, he dumped the bloody robes into a basket for the house-elves to take care of, and tossed the mask carelessly into its box by the door.

He sincerely hoped that Potter hadn't had a vision of what had happened over the course of the meeting. Lucius had obviously been worried that simply retrieving the items Voldemort wanted wouldn't be enough to improve the Dark Lord's mood - despite the fact that he'd apparently managed it without drawing any attention to himself - and so had also brought along some... 'entertainment'. A Muggle woman and her two children.

It was exceedingly fortunate, in Snape's opinion, that he was known for not having a taste for 'blood sport' - which he regarded as a mere euphemism for allowing sadistic urges full rein - and so he hadn't been expected to participate in the so-called 'fun'. He'd had to watch, however - he'd have been immediately under suspicion if he hadn't - and had been unable to do anything to ease the suffering that the three victims had gone through. If he could have, he would have killed them quickly - but even his known distaste for games of torture wouldn't have helped explain doing that.

Snape really, really hoped that Potter hadn't seen the 'games'. It had sickened him, and he was... not callous about suffering, but at least able to find other things to focus on when something like this happened. He'd had plenty of practice. But it wasn't the sort of thing a fifteen year old boy should have to deal with.

Truthfully, it's not something that anyone should have to deal with - but at least I have the experience to do so. Potter doesn't have that - and should not have to develop it. There are times when I think it's criminal, what the entire wizarding world is doing to him; he's been conscious of having the weight of our world on his shoulders since he was eleven years old. And no matter how much experience he's had with Voldemort and the Death Eaters over the past four years, he's still only a child.

Unfortunately, in some ways, they had very little choice. Potter had defeated Voldemort, driven him out of his body, when the boy was only a year old - and whether it had been entirely due to Lily's sacrifice, or whether it had been some combination of the sacrifice and Potter's Sensitive gift, it had been the boy who was given the credit. That made him a target for Voldemort, no matter what he did or didn't do now.

Sighing, Snape sat down on his couch and automatically lit the fire. He wasn't going to be able to get any sleep for the rest of the night - not with what had happened at the meeting - so he might as well use the time productively.

Let's see... I still have to decide exactly what I'm going to tell Potter about the Sensitive's gift. I might as well consider that, and start working on a training regimen to add to the Defence lessons...

Summoning a quill and parchment, Snape focused his attention on the details of planning the beginning of Potter's practical training sessions, letting the work push the memories of what had happened at the Death Eater meeting to one side for the present.