Harry found himself two days later sitting at the table in the Great Hall. Dumbledore hadn’t bothered to replace the house tables and just let the small one stay there.

Ron and Hermione had been given the chance to go home to their parents for a day. Harry had felt bad that they had stayed behind and mentioned, in a conversation with McGonagall, about Ron and Hermione staying for the holidays for him. She must’ve caught the hint and offered them a day and a night trip home by floo powder.

So, Harry found himself sitting by himself during lunch. In front of him he had Ginny’s carving book and was slowly eating a sandwich as he read. To say he wasn’t bored would’ve been a lie.

The doors to the Great Hall opened and in stalked a teacher. Harry barely glanced up, he could tell Snape’s swagger anywhere. Snape didn’t say anything; he just sat down and started to make his sandwich.

“Mr. Potter...” Snape’s voice suddenly said. Harry, his movements’ automatic, reached over, grabbed the mustard and passed it to him. “How do you know I was going to ask for that?”

“Only thing not near you that you add to your sandwich.” Harry commented as he flipped the page.

“Hmm...” Snape said as he finished making his sandwich. Nothing was said after that. After a while, Harry found himself no longer reading but just staring blankly at the page before him.

Harry’s mind wasn’t really thinking of anything but kind of distracted.

“Mr. Potter,” Snape suddenly said. “You’re either having a very hard time of reading or you’re just staring at a page.” Harry shook his head a bit and looked around.

“Err—just staring at the page I guess.” Harry mumbled and Snape raised an eyebrow. Sighing, Harry slammed the book shut and sat back.

Snape stared at him for a couple of minutes before shaking his head a bit and looking around. “You’re causing me to go mental Potter.” He snarled and with a wave of his wand the food disappeared from their area. He then accio- ed a Wizard Chess set.

“I’m warning you, sir, I’m horrible at chess.” Harry commented as Snape set up the board.

“Yes, well, if you’re as good as Chess as you are in Potions, I’m sure you are.” Snape said snidely and Harry raised an eyebrow.

“And here I thought I was getting better at Potions.” Harry commented sarcastically.

“Yes, well, should that come to someone’s attention...,” Snape trailed off, rolling his eyes. Harry smirked slightly and moved his chess piece.

There was no doubt to who was better in the game, but it was obvious that Snape was taking it slowly in beating Harry because the game lasted a while. Professors walked in to eat lunch and to say their surprise at seeing Harry and Snape playing chess was anything from shocked to the conclusion that Harry or Snape might be under the imperious cruse.

McGonagall was clearly shocked the most while Dumbledore just walked in and smiled with a bright twinkle in his eye.

Finally, the game was over and Snape was the victor.

“See,” Harry said as he sat back and saw just how dismal the defeat was.

“Well, considering your partner is usually Mr. Weasley, an obviously skilled player, and I was your partner today, who usually plays Dumbledore, I’d have to say you just don’t have partners on your level.” Harry raised an eyebrow but didn’t comment. “Come, let’s play again, and I’ll help you with your strategy.”

He set up the board again. “Don’t look at me like that Potter, I know very well that I’m going mental, or as Mr. Weasley might say, off my rocker.” Harry looked closer at Snape and was surprised to find the man was somewhat smirking, and not in his usual cold way.

“Alright, but I warn you. I’m not quick with this stuff,” Harry chuckled and Snape rolled his eyes again. Something Harry wasn’t use to seeing the man do.

“Can beat the Dark Lord, but you can’t figure out Wizard Chess. That’s irony for you.” Snape snarled.

“I did it all on luck, sir, not strategy.” Harry commented dryly and Snape glanced up quickly. “Don’t deny it.”

“I wasn’t planning on it,” he looked like he wanted to say something more but decided against it. Harry didn’t comment and for the next hour Snape helped Harry with his chess skill and by the end of the game, Harry had improved a bit though Snape still creamed him.

Before either of them could decide if they wanted to play another game or pretend that this had never happened, the doors leading to the Great Hall burst open and in trooped Mad-Eye Moody, Tonks, Lupin, Kingsley, and Dumbledore.

Kingsley had a large book under his right arm which looked strangely like a photo album.

“Ahh...good you’re here Potter.” Moody said as his magical eye swiveled onto him. Then it darted to Snape and then the chess set in between them. If Moody was surprised he didn’t show it.

“You were looking for me?” Harry asked, bemused. His gaze landing on Lupin. He hadn’t seen the man for a while and looking at him caused an odd pang of guilt. Sirius had been Lupin’s friend too.

“Yes,” said Kingsley. “Do you happen to remember Number Nine Privet Drive, Mr. Potter?” he asked and Harry raised an eyebrow. “As in who lived there?”

“Some odd lady,” Harry said clearly confused. “No wait, I remember Aunt Petunia saying something about her leaving for France, and a new guy moving in. Mr. Jenkins or somethin’. Why?”

“Harry, there are a lot of un-marked Death Eaters; Voldemort had decided not to mark all his followers when he rose again. Not until later that is.” Dumbledore informed and Harry raised an eyebrow.

“What’s that got to do with Number Nine?” he asked as Kingsley shifted the book in front of Harry.

“We fear one of the un-marked Death Eaters might be living there.” Lupin informed. “Did you ever see this Mr. Jenkins?”

“Erm—I really couldn’t tell you. I didn’t know my neighbors names.” Harry muttered sheepishly.

“Really?” asked Kingsley.

“Yeah, they were afraid of me.” Harry chuckled a bit and Tonks looked intrigued.

“Why?”

“Once I got accepted to Hogwarts, Uncle Vernon spread the rumor that I attended St. Brutus’s School for Incurably Criminal Boys.” Tonks started to laugh, Lupin shook his head, and Moody growled. Harry didn’t dare glance at Snape.

“Yes, well, look through those pictures, Potter, and tell us if you recognize any of them.” Moody ordered.

“Why does it matter?” Harry asked. “I’ve never seen him; from Aunt Petunia’s words he never left the house.”

“He could be a danger to you Potter. Being so close to the Dursleys.” Moody growled and Harry raised an eyebrow. Glancing sideways, he looked to Dumbledore whose face was grave.

Not wanting to comment, Harry flipped open the photo album and looked through. The pages were lined with blinking pictures and underneath there were their names, where they lived or if they were missing or dead. Several were dead.

Harry was trying hard to concentrate on the pictures, not wanting to meet Lupin’s questioning gaze. Harry hadn’t told anyone beyond Hermione, Ron, Ginny, Neville, and Luna about being kicked out. He knew Lupin’s feelings would be hurt, but Harry just found he couldn’t tell the man.

“What’s happened with the Dursleys?” Moody demanded as Harry flipped the page again.

“Vernon Dursley requested that Harry never return after he discovered Voldemort was dead and Harry really didn’t need the blood protection anymore.” Harry’s ears were burning as Dumbledore explained what happened.

“What?” Lupin and Tonks cried out at the same time.

“He has to go back!” Lupin declared. “There’s still Death Eaters roaming, especially the un-marked ones.”

“It doesn’t matter anymore,” Dumbledore said gravely. “By requesting that Harry never return, Petunia Dursley broke the blood protection. And anyway, judging from our reports, there’s only a total of ten roaming marked and un- marked Death Eaters.”

“How long has this been?” Lupin asked, his eyes turning to Harry who was staring blankly at a picture. Beneath the picture was an address that was completely opposite of Privet Dr. Next to that picture was one of his brother, who was missing.

“A month now, I do believe.” Dumbledore informed causing Harry to lean even farther forward in embarrassment. The picture of a gangly man with speckling grey hair and deep blue eyes stared back at him. The picture of his brother was older, greyer hair, but the eyes were brown with odd speckles of white in them. Harry had seen the same style of eyes on other people.

Only people who had been submitted to the cruticus curse for long bouts of time had those eyes. Neville’s parents had the same type of eyes. Harry shifted his gaze back to his brother’s picture.

He seemed familiar.

“Harry,” Lupin began and Harry glanced up. Their eyes locked and Harry instantly saw Lupin was a bit hurt with him not telling him about the Dursleys.

“I think this guy might be Mr. Jenkins...I remember running into him one day.” Harry commented pointing to the brother’s picture. The name said Lincoln Jones. His brother was Sebastian Jones. “I know it says he lives on the opposite side of England, but I recognize the eyes and the nose. Especially the nose. He was right up in my face and his nose looks like something tried to pull it off.”

“Well, I have a report on my desk that he went missing at the beginning of last summer. I’ll check that out.” Kingsley commented, reaching over and grabbing the book. Harry’s eyes lingered on Sebastian Jones...that man looked familiar too but he didn’t know how.

“He’s dead,” Moody declared bluntly when he saw where Harry was looking. “Dementors they say. He was able to control ‘em.”

“Dementors?” Harry asked aghast. “You can’t control ‘em? Can you?”

“He was brilliant when it came to certain spells and one allowed him to contact Dementors.” Kingsley declared and Harry gaped. “But you’re right, you can’t control ‘em, and it’s the belief that he was taken by ‘em.”

“What about--?” Harry began.

“Dementors power?” Moody interrupted. “You have to have happy memories to begin with for them to take Potter. And anyway, he was put under the cruticus curse so many times that he was too deranged in his own mind to be affected. That’s probably why Voldemort valued him so.”

Harry paled slightly at the thought of all having no happy memories, being deranged, and then being taken by the ones who you tired to control.

“See you later, Potter,” Moody said as he walked off.

“Yeah, bye Harry,” said Tonks cheerfully as she backed into a chair.

“Bye, Mr. Potter,” said Kingsley. Harry nodded at them and then turned back to Lupin. Snape and Dumbledore got up and left with the others.

“Why didn’t you tell me Harry?” Lupin asked after a pause and Harry shrugged.

“I guess I really didn’t think about it.” Harry instantly regretted the words because Lupin’s face tried hard to hide the hurt. “I’m sorry, really, Professor.”

“Harry—call me Remus, please.” Lupin begged, his face worn and his voice weak from strain.

“Alright,” Harry mumbled. They fell into an awkward silence.

“Why...why, please tell me the truth Harry, why didn’t you tell me?” Lupin begged and Harry sighed.

“I-I just couldn’t,” Harry whispered. He didn’t want to have this conversation. Lupin reminded him too much of Sirius, and Harry knew he reminded Lupin too much of Sirius.

“W-why?” Lupin croaked. He looked worn and tired; Harry wondered when the next full moon was.

“I’m sorry,” Harry mumbled. “I really am.”

“You can talk to me Harry, really.” Lupin mumbled and Harry nodded.

“I know...it’s just whenever I’m around you—” Harry choked. “I remember Sirius.”

“I know it’s hard on you,” Lupin said, looking through his hands. “Especially with all that’s been happening. You’ve been through so much. Sirius would be proud.”

“I know...” Harry muttered and Lupin reached over and held Harry’s shoulder.

“You can talk to me Harry,” Lupin declared again. “About anything.” He removed his hand and looked at Harry carefully. “I’ve been meaning to tell you that when Sirius...well you know...his money split in half between your vault and mine.”

“What?” Harry gasped. “I don’t want anything! You take it all.” Harry jumped to his feet. Sirius’s money in his vault! He didn’t want Sirius’s money and anyway Lupin needed it more.

“Harry,” Lupin jumped to his feet too. “Listen, of all things Sirius wanted for you, is to be set in life. Even if he couldn’t be there. He arranged when he was appointed godfather for you to get his money transferred to your vault if anything were to happen to him.”

“No,” Harry shook his head. “I don’t want it! You take it...I don’t want it.” With that Harry turned and ran from the Hall. He had come to terms with Sirius’s death already, but it was like the plaque Harry had found in the dungeons, what Lupin had just said dug up painful memories.

“HARRY!” Lupin shouted as Harry dashed up the stairs right pass Snape, Dumbledore, and Moody. But Harry didn’t listen, he just ran down corridors until he came upon the Room of Requirement. He dashed back and forth three times and then dived into the room.

There were two large armchairs, so large that they engulfed Harry when he flopped into one. In front of him was a large cackling fire. He just sat there, staring into the fire as if it wasn’t there.

He didn’t want to think about it. Not about Sirius’s money. He couldn’t explain why it affected him so badly, it just did.

After a minute he couldn’t think about it any longer. Sighing in frustration, Harry jumped to his feet and grabbed the book that was on the small table between the two armchairs.

“Great, just my luck, it’s Arithmancy.” Harry hissed darkly. He had been flipping through the curse-breaking booklet and realized that he needed Arithmancy. The one thing he didn’t have, and the one thing he needed. He might as well stick to being an Auror.

Yet, he found himself, picking up the book, settling back in his chair and reading it. Hermione was right, it was interesting.

‘Sometimes,’ Harry thought darkly. ‘I hate this room. It always gives you what you need, even if you don’t want it.’ Sighing, he ran his hand through his hair, trying harder and harder to concentrate on anything other than Sirius’s money.

After a while of reading, Harry found himself no longer able to concentrate. And it was at that moment that the door to the room swung open.

Harry jumped a bit. He was half expecting it to be Lupin, but found to his surprise Snape standing there. He didn’t know rather or not it was a good thing it was Snape.

“There you are,” Snape hissed snidely.

“Here I am,” Harry mumbled.

“What’s the problem this time Potter?” Snape snarled and Harry flinched a bit. He knew it was just Snape’s way of things, how he worked, but he still found it annoying. “The Dursleys? You and the werewolf have a brawl over them? Or over being an Auror?” His eyes fell onto the Arithmancy book.

“No, and why does it matter, sir?” Harry snapped and Snape took a step forward.

“Obviously it matters when you take off running from Lupin, and stash yourself in the Room of Requirement.” Snape responded, his voice not as cold as before. “What was it about? Lupin wouldn’t say.”

“Sirius,” Harry mumbled.

“Hmm...” Snape sat in the armchair that Harry wasn’t occupying. “That’s an open wound for both of you.” He stated in Hermione’s matter-of-fact voice. “He’s not trying to be Black, so what’s the problem?”

“It’s stupid really,” Harry mumbled. He figured he’d already cried in front of Snape three times, there wasn’t much else that the man could hold against him. “Just it bothers me, I don’t know why.”

“What?” Snape pressed and Harry sighed. He slapped the Arithmancy book close and tossed it onto the table between them. Snape’s eyes landed on it.

“Sirius’s money,” Harry stated and Snape seemed to understand what he meant. “I don’t know why, it just...gets to me.” Snape shifted in his seat. Harry wondered if he was uncomfortable.

“No,” Snape stated. “It makes sense.” Snape didn’t elaborate and Harry was thankful. In a way, he didn’t want to know why it made sense. Harry stood up, suddenly intent on getting back to the Tower. Snape stood up too.

“Have you talked to Professor McGonagall?” He asked, blocking Harry’s path. “About not being an Auror?”

“Doesn’t matter, I’m not taking Arithmancy.” Harry mumbled. “That’s what I need. I should just stick to Auror,” Harry’s voice shook a bit.

“Potter, talk to McGonagall.” Snape ordered. Harry stared at him, and shrugged.

“I’m telling you!” Harry snarled. “It won’t do any good!”

“Potter,” Snape’s voice was warning him.

“Leave it alone!” Harry snapped trying to step around Snape. Snape’s grabbed his shoulder and pulled him back.

“Potter, stop!” Snape growled.

“Why?” Harry demanded. “Why the hell do you care so much?”

Snape seemed startled by the question. Harry was staring at him, his face demanding to know why. All these years of hatred toward him because he was James Potter’s son, all these years of torment with insults, taking of points, and detentions. And now, suddenly, he seemed to care.

“Because,” Snape began slowly. “Y-you made me realize you weren’t your father, but more of your mother.” Harry stared at him, his face the famous impassive expression Snape always wore. Then, it broke.

Harry seemed to fall forward, as if it was all too much for him, and it probably was. Snape caught him slightly, and pulled him so that Harry’s forehead rested on his shoulder. Harry wasn’t crying; he was just caught up in a wave of emotions.

“Let’s make a deal Mr. Potter,” Snape suggested after a few minutes. “You talk to McGonagall about your future, trust me on this, and I’ll teach you how to play Wizard’s Chess.” Harry pulled away and looked him in the eye.

“What kind of deal is that?” he asked, his voice highly amused. “Talk to McGonagall, who to my understanding took it onto her being to make me become an Auror, and then learn how to play Chess with you, the bane of all existence to all Gryffindors.”

“Seeing as you, Mr. Potter, are the bane of my existence, I feel it would be an even trade.” Snape commented sarcastically. Harry stared him in the eye for a few moments and then nodded.

“Alright,” Harry mumbled.

“You’ll have to talk to McGonagall before the holidays are up, Mr. Potter. If you don’t you’ll have detention until you’re too old to apperate to the school.” Snape declared.

“You can’t,” Harry began.

“You’d be surprised Mr. Potter,” Snape snarled.

“Apperate to the school,” Harry finished off and Snape raised an eyebrow.

“So you do know some things?” he remarked snidely.

“Hermione more or less beat it into my head in my third year,” Harry retorted as he began to leave the room.

“Hmm...that makes more sense,” Snape commented and Harry shot him a dark look. “Don’t forget to talk to her, Potter.” Harry nodded and disappeared out of the room.

888

Ron and Hermione had similar ideas when they cornered Harry the night after their return to Hogwarts.

“Harry, we’ve been talking,” Hermione recited.

“And we’ve decided to make you talk to McGonagall; rather you like it or not, mate.” Ron said sternly. Harry had the feeling that they rehearsed it. “Ginny agrees too. She says if you haven’t by the end of the holidays, you’ll have to deal with her.”

“Same with us,” Hermione snapped. “You don’t want to be an Auror anymore, so there’s no need for you to. You just have to talk to Professor McGonagall. If you don’t, you’ll have to deal with more then just Ginny.”

“Alright,” Harry said startling them both. They obviously weren’t expecting this type of reaction from him. Or for him to relent so easily. “And you’ll just have to get in line if you want hurt me for not talking to McGonagall by the end of the holidays.”

“Really?” Hermione asked intrigued. “Who else?”

“Snape,” Harry smiled at Ron’s dumbfounded expression. “He cornered me in the Room of Requirement.” Hermione smiled, obviously pleased by this and Ron looked a bit horrified. “Anyway, you missed it,” Harry said as he launched into the story of Number Nine Privet Drive and the un-mark and marked Death Eaters.

“Blimey, controlling Dementors, didn’t know it was possible.” Ron whispered.

“It’s not,” Hermione informed. “Seeing as he ended up being killed by them in the end.”

“Do you really think he’s dead?” Ron asked, wonderingly. “Maybe he’s just living with them, and controlling ‘em.” Harry shuddered at the thought of living with dementors.

“No,” Hermione said sternly. “I highly doubt that.” And the subject was dropped.

“Wizard’s Chess?” Ron offered and Harry grinned. He wondered if Snape would be able to help him. That was definitely the last thing Harry had thought Snape would offer. Maybe ‘extra potions’ like Harry had been doing for a while, but not Wizard Chess.

He shrugged a bit to himself. It could’ve been worse and he’d like to see Ron’s face when he finally challenged him a bit in a game.