"So you're sure you're all right?" asked Harry after dinner the next night.

Snape leaned back in his chair and regarded his son over a half-finished glass of wine. "I'm looking forward to a long sleep, certainly. You needn't be anxious."

"I'm not exactly anxious--"

"Harry, you've asked if he's all right about eight times!" exclaimed Draco.

Snape's eyes narrowed as he glanced at Draco. "That's quite enough. As I said last night, you've seen me in that state before and Harry hasn't."

"I'm surprised you sent Draco up for me, considering," said Harry, sighing. "It must have been pure torture waiting for me to get here."

"I'd told you that you could help," Snape answered, smiling a bit ruefully. "I must admit, in retrospect I had cause to question a promise like that. Torture wasn't far off the mark."

Harry grimaced. "Your puns are getting worse. But if you're in a good enough mood to make them . . . Anyway, thanks for keeping your promise to let me help with the stasis potion. I'm glad to be back in the Tower and all, but I still want to be included in family things."

Snape merely inclined his head.

"The Order meeting you went to right after . . . Did anyone find out what Voldemort was up to?"

"How could they?" asked Draco. "The Order's lost its spy."

No, it hasn't, Harry thought, feeling a little guilty that in this case, Draco was the one being left out. Remus might have managed to get his hands on some information . . .

Or not.

"At the moment his plans remain largely unknown. He's definitely been recruiting purebloods on the Continent, but other than that?" Snape tilted his wine glass and downed the rest of the contents. "I do believe I'll retire, then. Good night, Harry, Draco."

"'Night, Dad."

Draco didn't reply, though he did give a brief nod.

Snape's gait looked weary as he walked the corridor towards his bedroom.

"Oh, stop fretting," Draco chided his brother. "Look, if it's any consolation I think he's recovering better now than he used to. Wizards can adapt to just about anything if they have to. Well, strong wizards. You're proof of that. Marsha and I have been talking quite a bit about it. That childhood you had, those Muggles, and then getting thrown into the wizarding world with no warning and expected to save us all, for Merlin's sake, and you just take it in stride. Like you think it's normal."

Harry wasn't sure he appreciated being such a heavily featured topic in Draco's therapy sessions, but maybe it was inevitable. "Well, it is normal. For me, I mean. That's just how things have been."

"Right, because your childhood determines your frame of reference. Which is why it seems normal to me to think of Muggles as a largish form of cockroach."

"Draco--"

The other boy burst out laughing. "You look so outraged! I didn't say Muggles actually were cockroaches, Harry. Or even that I thought they were. I said it seems normal to me to think that way."

"Do you think that way?"

That sobered Draco. "You know, it takes some effort not to. But I know it's not exactly appropriate in the circles I want to frequent. So I'm working on it. I think Marsha helps. I mean, there are times now when I can actually think about what she says. I used to sit there in my sessions and only be able to think about her squibbishness. Well, when I wasn't shocking her on purpose."

"On purpose."

Draco's teeth glinted as he grinned. "Oh, come on. You saw how shockable she was. You can't expect me not to play with her a little."

Harry tried hard not to sigh. "As long as she's helping you. Is she?"

Draco raised an eyebrow in a fair imitation of Snape. "I as good as admitted that Muggles aren't cockroaches. If that's not progress, I don't know what is."

Harry thought it was pretty paltry progress. On the other hand, for Draco . . . "Yeah, well just don't mention around Hermione that you think it seems normal to believe Muggles are . . . that."

"Not even once?"

"Once more, you mean? You've made your opinion clear enough in the past. You're lucky she talks to you at all after the things you've said."

"It's not luck. You think I don't know that? It's her wanting to stay on good terms with you. Granger --excuse me, Hermione-- knows her reaction to the adoption was reprehensible and she's determined to play her cards better this time around. Hmm. A tad Slytherin, if you think about it."

"Definitely don't mention that to her."

Draco fished in his pocket and thrust some Galleons at Harry. "Deal. Just don't forget my sweets."

Harry stared doubtfully at the pile of coins. "That's your entire allowance, Draco."

The other boy shrugged. "What else am I going to spend it on, trapped down here?" Then he scowled. "Besides, the house-elves hardly ever provide any dessert these days. I think Dobby put his bony little finger in somewhere."

"We had Napoleons just tonight!"

"In your honour, no doubt. No way would Dobby ever deprive you of a treat. Why don't you come to dinner more often? Severus and I would get better food. I don't care what he arranged with the elves, they aren't serving up the fare from the Great Hall when you visit. Well, not lately."

"Why don't you just ask Severus to let you order what suits again?"

Draco huffed slightly. "Because I happen to have a certain sense of self-possession?"

"He's your dad, not somebody you have to impress! Anyway, maybe he'll think it's time to ease up."

"Yeah, well he hasn't been your Head of House long if you think he's that easy to get around." Draco shook his head. "Anyway, Marsha more-or-less implied that chocolate's tantamount to an anti-depressant--"

"So Muggles have come up with something worthwhile, then."

"Oh, please. Don't you know any history at all? They nicked the recipe from wizards in the twelve-hundreds!"

"Chocolate comes from Mexico, you prat!"

"Did I ever say there weren't wizards in Mexico?" Draco sighed. "Let's not fight about who invented chocolate. Just get me plenty of it."

Harry took the gold coins from Draco and pocketed them. "All right, then."

-----------------------------------------------

"Be good, Harry," mimicked Ron as he, Hermione, and Harry ambled along the winding path into Hogsmeade. "You know, the way he says that really is funny. Snape the dad."

Harry had to admit, it was a little bit amusing.

"Well, I think Snape's a fine dad!" Hermione said in a robust tone. "Honestly, I do. Anyone can see--"

"Oh, crap!" Harry suddenly exclaimed. "I can see again, just fine out of both eyes! I meant to ask Severus to take me up to Pomfrey for an exam so she could clear me to leave off my glasses."

"That's marvellous, Harry!" Hermione stopped walking and enfolded him in a warm hug. When she stepped back it was to urge, "Ask him tonight, then. Oh, I remember thinking you look so dashing without glasses! Not that you don't look good regardless, but--"

"Oh, great! Now you're after Harry as well!"

"I'm just happy for him! What's wrong with that?"

"Nothing!" snapped Ron, looking as though he regretted what he'd just said. He drew in a deep breath, obviously trying to get past it. "Well, come on then, off with your glasses. You can have Pomfrey check you after the fact."

Harry grinned and slipped his glasses into a jacket pocket.

Hermione smiled brightly. "Besides, you may as well see how it goes without glasses first, right? If you get another headache or something you'll know you aren't quite there yet."

"Good thinking."

"Yeah, Hermione's good at that."

"Well someone has to be, Ronald."

Harry bit back a sharp retort and thanked God they were entering the village by then. Maybe visiting the shops would distract Ron and Hermione from their constant bickering. "So, where to first?"

"I could do with a few books--"

"Hermione, there's a whole library full of books where we just came from! You remember it, right? You only live in there--"

"Draco needs some chocolate frogs," Harry interrupted.

"Oh, Draco--"

"Why doesn't he owl-order whatever he wants?"

Harry thought fast. He didn't like lying to his friends, but neither could he tell them his brother's personal business. "I didn't ask. But you know, after the whole Owlery thing? I'd be a little averse, too."

Hermione's lips turned down. "Hmm, I suppose so. I'm sorry I thought he must have killed Pansy, Harry. I've thought about it a lot and it seems to me that if someone memory-charmed Erik and Bella to lie, then there must have been a plot to incriminate your er . . . brother. Which can only mean that he's innocent."

"Draco Malfoy, innocent," scoffed Ron. When Harry turned a glare on him, he held his hands up. "Oh, he might not have killed Parkinson but the one thing he's not is innocent."

Harry steered his friends towards Honeydukes, but that didn't stop the sniping.

"Draco's a right prat but at least he's trying to be more polite these days. That's more than I can say about you, Ronald."

"You're the one who goes on for hours about how much smarter you are than me! How polite is that?"

"You're the one who keeps calling Harry's brother Malfoy when you know how much it bothers Harry!"

"Shut up, both of you!" Harry finally hissed, one hand on the door of the sweet shop. "Just give it a rest! I haven't been to Hogsmeade in forever and I'd like to enjoy myself!"

Ron and Hermione both glared at each other. They did stop squabbling, though. That had to be worth something.

Harry browsed a bit, checking out the new sweets on offer, though he couldn't help but make a face when he passed a display of garishly iced fairy cakes. He finally settled on some Jelly Slugs for himself and of course the chocolate frogs for his brother. A whole bagful, which cost about half of Draco's allowance. Harry really didn't want to lug around two entire bags of the things. Besides, he couldn't believe Draco truly wanted that many.

"So, a cuppa next?" suggested Hermione when they emerged. Her tone grew teasing. "Or perhaps hot chocolate for you, Harry?"

"I told you all these were for Draco," said Harry, laughing.

"Can we have three sentences in a row which don't involve Malfoy?" asked Ron, clearly exasperated.

"Sure we can," Harry quickly agreed, ignoring the whole name thing. He didn't want to fight about it. Not then, and not ever. "Right, Hermione?"

"Oh, certainly." She waltzed through the door to the Three Broomsticks as Harry held it open, and primly took a seat by the front windows. "So, what are your summer plans, Harry?"

Harry folded his hands on the table. "You know, it's the first time I can remember looking forward to a summer. I think we're going to stay in the castle for a week or two past the end of term, so Severus can take care of some things he never has time for when students are around. And then we'll all go to . . . well, I can't say but you've been there, right? I have to keep working on my spell lexicon, though it's not half-bad now. Severus says he'll take us all to London to see a play or two."

"Oh, that'll be grand!"

"Yeah. And I'll make some time to visit with Dudley and see how he's doing."

"Three cups of tea," said Ron when a plump young waitress came by for their order.

"Three cups of tea," mocked Hermione when the girl had left. "Honestly, Ronald. You were staring at her like you'd like to drink her straight down."

"Well, she's not bad looking, is she--"

Harry almost kicked Ron under the table.

Hermione blinked quickly and started staring out the window.

Harry sighed and tried to get Hermione to discuss her summer plans, but soon gave it up and talked Quidditch with Ron, instead. It was a relief when the tea came and relieved him of the burden of trying to make his friends get along. They all sipped in silence for a little while as they watched other students go past the window. Nott walked by with Zabini and Greengrass. Harry almost wished he was out there with the Slytherins instead of trapped between two people determined to stay at odds with one another.

"So, what next?" he asked when they were heading back out into the street.

Hermione suddenly whirled to face Ron. "You left that waitress an awfully big tip, don't you think?"

"I think it was about right."

"Thirty-four percent, Ronald?"

"Yeah, trust you to have figured that out."

"I think I know how you figured it, thank you very much--"

"That's it," Harry announced, completely fed up with both of them. He more or less herded them down a long alleyway, not stopping until they were a fair distance from the main street of Hogsmeade. "Listen, both of you, because I'm only saying this once. You're driving the whole Tower 'round the bend! Either kiss and make up and get back together or just forget the whole thing, all right?"

"Oh, very persuasive, Harry," said Hermione scornfully. "Well, forget the whole thing suits me just fine. What do you say, Ronald?"

"It's Ron! And yeah, I say forget it!"

"The both of you are being arses!" Harry shouted. "You don't want to forget it. If you did, you wouldn't be at each other's throats twelve times a day. Hermione, for God's sake just tell him you don't have a thing for Draco! And Ron, apologise for trying to get back by staring at the waitress, all right?"

"Only a complete dunderhead could think I have a thing for Draco!" exclaimed Hermione. "Is that why you've been in such a snit, Ron? Because you actually think I-- Oh, I can imagine how well that would go over. Mum, Dad, I'd like you to meet my new boyfriend, except you can't because he hates your very existence? What sort of person do you think I am?"

Ron had the grace to look shamefaced, though he protested, "But you go on and on about him and how he said you were clever--"

"Because a year ago he'd have never admitted a Muggle-born could have a single redeeming trait! Harry's been good for him, that's all I meant. Honestly, Ron!"

"Well, he's rich as Croesus, isn't he--"

Hermione spoke more quietly. "I don't believe you think I'd care about a thing like that."

"Not exactly, but still . . ." Ron stood up straighter. "You remind me that I'm not rich, and I don't like it."

"When have I ever reminded you of a thing like that? I'm not rich either, in case it's slipped your mind. Dentistry isn't exactly arbitrage!"

"What?" Ron scowled. "The tip, all right? Like I can't afford to leave a few coins on the table. Or telling me you found the most marvellous second-hand bookshop which carries all the seventh-year texts. Or--"

"You tipped that waitress too much because you couldn't stop ogling her! And what's wrong with me wanting to get three times as many books as I could get for the same price in Flourish and Blotts?" Hermione planted her hands on her hips. "Ronald Weasley, if you think I care a hoot about how much money you have or don't, then we really should break up!"

"I don't want to break up!"

"You don't?" Hermione blinked, her eyes suddenly misty as her hands fell to her sides. "I mean, I sort of thought we already were."

"Well that's not turning out so well either, is it?" asked Ron, reaching out to grab one of her hands and pull her close. "I'm sorry I looked at the waitress that way."

"I'm sorry I talk too much about Dr- Dr- Draco!" Hermione swiped her free hand across her eyes. "Harry's just so happy, you know? And I didn't see that in time last time, and I want him to know I'm done trying to get him to renounce his family, even if it has to include a stuck-up self-important vain Muggle-hating arse like Draco Malfoy! Oh! I mean Draco Snape!"

"It's all right," Harry said dryly. "Look, I think you two need a few moments alone. So I'm going to wait around the corner, all right? By that Quidditch shop."

He'd barely finished speaking before Ron had pulled Hermione into his arms and was kissing her like there was no tomorrow. Definitely time to make an exit. Third wheel and all that.

Not that he planned to go far. He headed down the alley away from the main street through town, and when he came out into the back street, found himself alongside the Quidditch shop just as he'd expected. Just two steps to the right and he couldn't see Ron and Hermione any longer. That was good. By then they were pressed so close together they looked like a single person. Thank goodness he was far enough away from them to not hear anything. He had a feeling they weren't exactly being quiet, down there.

When he'd said to kiss and make up he had more of a peck in mind, but this was good, he supposed. Actually, it made sense. All that hostility had been covering an attraction just as intense.

Harry turned his attention to the display in the shop window. Hmm, a Firebolt XL. Two feelings assailed him at once. That ache of wanting to see Sirius again. But also a longing to play Quidditch even if it would mean kicking Ginny out of Seeker position.

"I thought that was you," said a friendly voice alongside him.

Harry glanced up, startled, at Nott. He hadn't heard the other boy arrive, which showed how lost he'd got in thoughts of his Firebolt.

"So what happened to the glasses?"

"Oh, I might not need them any longer," said Harry, shrugging. He thought of explaining further but decided not to bother. "What happened to Zabini and Greengrass? I thought you were going around with them today."

"They're in line for a palm-reading." Nott rolled his eyes. "As if we didn't get enough of that in Divination to cure us of it. Actually it's just Daphne who wanted her future told, but Blaise is a little bit soft on her, I think, so he said he'd have his palm read, too. So, anything good in here?"

"The new broom doesn't look half-bad."

Nott quickly looked left and right, then spoke in a voice that was barely audible, even though he and Harry were completely alone on the street. "Just as well I spotted you. I found something else out, Potter. About that thing you were asking about."

It only took Harry a second to follow. He lowered his own voice as well. "The Slytherin Plague, you mean?"

"Shh, shh!" Nott made a frantic gesture with his hand. "Yeah, that." A couple of students crossed the far end of the street; Nott jumped back into the shadows, his voice shaking as he whispered, "I can't risk anyone seeing me alone with you. Because you have to tell your father tonight what I found out, and after that my life won't be worth that if they find out I was the one to unravel the whole thing." The other students were gone by then; Nott relaxed a fraction, though his gaze kept darting back and forth. "I shouldn't even tell you. What's it to me if Malfoy never knows the truth? Why should I risk my neck for him?"

"Snape will protect you; I swear he will," Harry said urgently, even as he kept his voice low. "We can go straight back and you can tell him, whatever it is."

"Ha. It's risk enough talking to you." Nott sighed. "But the alternative might be worse. I need a way out. I'll tell you." Nott edged to the side and slipped into a vacant space between two buildings. "Come on in here where it's less exposed."

Harry glanced back towards the alley where Ron and Hermione were no doubt still kissing, but it wasn't like he was going to be far. He'd be within earshot, and Nott hardly looked likely to try anything. And even if he did, Harry could handle it. Not even a summoning charm on his wand would matter, not considering he didn't need it anyway.

He stepped between the buildings and followed Nott down a few yards. "So, what did you find out? What really happened?"

Nott stopped walking and turned around, his wand in hand, already speaking an incantation as he whirled. "Conflagrare manem!"

Harry screamed as his entire right hand went up in flames. It wasn't normal fire; he knew that at once. It seemed centred on the ring he'd been wearing ever since he'd gone back to classes. Searing pain flashed through the finger wearing it, and through the leaping flames, Harry saw his ring melting. Molten gold began dripping across his skin. Instinct had him shaking his hand to try to put the fire out, or at least get the blazing hot droplets off him. Not that the manoeuvre did him any good, it just spread the tracks of liquid metal into wider streaks and actually seemed to feed the flames.

Desperate to put the fire out before his hand burned off completely, Harry dropped to hands and knees and began slapping his hand against the dusty ground, front then back, again and again.

The pain of that was unbelievable, but at least it worked. In just a few seconds he'd managed to extinguish the fire.

He glanced up to see Nott's lips curled into a satisfied smile. "You should have heard that stupid traitor's letters to the Muggleborns in Slytherin, Potter. One after another, all about how you wouldn't grovel to the Dark Lord. How you had too much pride and we should all throw our lot in with yours. But you're grovelling now, aren't you? To me."

Harry felt like he might black out from the pain still washing through his hand, but he knew he couldn't afford to be weak. Pushing shakily to his feet, he drew his wand with his left hand and prepared to hex Nott into a puddle of mush.

When he tried to cast a spell, though, nothing happened. For a second he couldn't understand why not. Then he realised he was looking down his arm at his fingers, but there wasn't any ring, not on his left hand.

Horrified, Harry glanced at his injured right hand, seeking a snake there, but it had long since melted. In fact, it looked as though the fire had consumed the metal completely. His skin from fingertip to wrist consisted of blackened flesh dotted with broken-open blisters, the whole of it coated with dust and dirt. But of his mother's ring there was absolutely no trace.

"No," breathed Harry, the single word anguished.

"No snake," corrected Nott, snarling, his earlier apprehension gone now that it had served its purpose. "Yeah, without one you're helpless, aren't you now? That's why your damned bodyguards were always hanging about. They knew your secret."

"How long have you known?" gasped Harry, playing for time since Ron and Hermione would have heard his scream and should be dashing to his aid any second.

Nott's face took on a sneering expression. "Well, I wondered from the start, what with the Parseltongue and all, and the way you always seemed to glance at your ring --new, isn't it?-- as you cast spells, but I was sure when I saw you talking to those first-years at the party. No magic then, no need to brandish your wand, and you still looked down at your ring or at your pet snake every time you tried to say something in Parseltongue. Too bad your little familiar isn't with you now, isn't it, Potter?"

Yeah, too bad, Harry thought, his mind frantically racing. Where were Ron and Hermione? They should be here by now. Unless Nott had arranged for them to be waylaid . . . but no, Nott wouldn't have known that he'd find Harry alone outside that Quidditch shop. He couldn't have set this up in advance . . .

He could, however, cast a competent silencing charm, Harry suddenly realised as he cradled his mangled hand. That must be it. He'd turned away to glance back at the alley, and Nott had cast a spell while Harry wasn't looking. Ron and Hermione had never heard him. They didn't know he needed help.

They were probably still too caught up in each other to even realise how long he'd been gone.

Think, think! Harry told himself. He'd got out of tighter spots than this before. He took a step backwards, toward the street.

"I don't think so. One more step and I cast Petrificus, Potter."

Keep him talking, Harry thought, pain seeming to wash through him in waves. Ron and Hermione will stop kissing sometime and come looking for you . . . "I thought I could trust you!"

"Gullible. So gullible." Nott kept his wand trained on Harry, even as he leaned against a building. "Draco Malfoy may have lost his mind, and your damned father as well, but you're the enemy, Potter. And there are those in Slytherin who haven't forgotten it."

"So what's your plan? Deliver me to Voldemort so you can lick his boots for the rest of your life? Draco was smart enough to want better than that for himself."

"The plan," sneered Nott, "involves a Portkey. I might not have been able to get Draco off Hogwarts' grounds, but Lucius will still pay plenty for you, I'll wager."

Harry's stomach churned with fear, even as he shouted -- hopefully loudly enough to break through Nott's silencing wards, "I'm not touching any Portkey!"

"Oh, yes you are." Nott stepped away from the wall, his wand levelled squarely on Harry's heart. "Petrificus is it, then."

"Oh, fine!" snapped Harry, his mind turning cartwheels by then. A snake, he needed a snake . . . But he had one, didn't he, if he could just get to it . . . Damn, why was he still wearing his jacket? It wasn't that chilly out! "Just hand it to me."

Nott laughed. "And get close enough for you to hit me? Right."

"Then toss it on the ground at my feet and I'll pick it up! Anything but Petrificus, Nott. I'd rather not be body-bound to face the likes of Lucius Malfoy."

Nott laughed again, the sound this time evil. "You can't even best me, Potter! You don't stand a chance against him, either. This isn't Samhain when you have your father to rescue you!"

"Yeah, yeah," said Harry, wishing Nott would just shut up and throw the Portkey toward him. Whatever happened, he had to avoid the threatened Petrificus. Because if he couldn't move, he couldn't solve this problem of needing a snake. He had to have a cover so Nott wouldn't see him reach toward the zipper holding his jacket closed.

"One wrong move and you'll be in a full body-bind," threatened Nott as he used his free hand to fish something from his pocket. The Portkey was wrapped inside a handkerchief. Nott flicked it just so, and the Portkey tumbled from it to land on the dirt between them.

A double-thick Galleon. Harry cynically wondered how many of those Lucius had been willing to pay to get his hands on Draco.

Nott's wand hand went tense as Harry began to lean over towards the Portkey.

Harry moved his left hand to his zipper as he bent, then yanked it all the way down. The most welcome sight in the world greeted him. Golden buttons decorated with a fierce lion, but they were a gateway to a snake. Three quick taps and he'd transformed the buttons to silver ones boasting a Slytherin snake.

The fingers of his right hand were curled in like claws, now. Harry wasn't even sure magic would flow through them, so he used his left, snapping it up, wand and all, and firing off hexes as Snape had taught him out in Devon. Disarm first, then keep your enemy from fleeing the scene.

Expelliarmus.

"Lose that stick in your hand!" Harry screamed in Parseltongue.

He felt the magic ricochet through him and stream out through his hand and into his wand, which amplified it into a huge sweep of power that emerged like a lightning blast gone berserk. Even before the burst had left his wand, though, Harry was already following one spell with another, just like he'd practiced with his father. The Jelly-Legs jinx. Only, snakes didn't know a thing about jelly, so he'd had to come up with something else for his Parseltongue version.

"Legs like broken eggs!"

Both spells hit Nott at almost the same instant. The boy was knocked off his feet and propelled several feet back.

He ended up knocking into a pile of cauldrons someone had stacked between the buildings. They fell all over him and for a moment, Harry couldn't see Nott, though he heard rustling noises as though the other boy was trying to get up.

Then the air all around him was filled with screaming. Awful, horrified screaming. Hysterical screaming.

Harry kept his wand trained on the source of the shrieks as he walked to the scattered cauldrons and kicked them aside.

"What did you do to me, what did you do to me, what did you do?" screamed Nott, flailing to sit up.

Harry ignored the question long enough to be sure that Nott's wand was gone. Probably it was gone forever, considering his Expelliarmus had been a wanded charm.

Harry kicked aside a few more cauldrons to be sure the wand hadn't just fallen to the side where Nott could reach it.

And that was when he saw what he'd done, when he understood why Nott was still screaming his question.

The boy's legs ended at the knee; his trouser legs lay flat after that. Or not flat, exactly. There was something inside the fabric, something jagged and uneven. Harry trailed his gaze along the seam and when he saw the rest, he felt like his heart leapt up into his throat and got stuck there.

Broken eggshells were spilling out of both Nott's shoes. Broken eggshells coated with bits of yolk and pools of filmy mucus.

His feet were nowhere to be seen.

Legs like broken eggs, Harry thought, sickened. It hadn't produced anything but the usual on Ron and Hermione and Draco, but this time he'd used a wanded charm, and the magic had taken him literally.

"What did you do to me--" Nott was still screaming.

Harry pocketed his wand to be sure he didn't send magic through it again. No way did he want to be taken literally when he cast Sleep-like-the-dead on Nott. As soon as the boy was Stupefied, Harry went to get Ron and Hermione.

Who were still kissing, and hadn't heard a thing.

They forgot all about themselves and the bliss of newfound love, however, the instant they took in Harry's pale features and charred hand. Hermione was the first to react, rushing over to him. "Where else are you hurt? Harry?"

It took Harry a minute to realise he hadn't answered her. He felt more like fainting than ever. In fact, now that the worst of the danger had passed, he wanted to go to sleep for about a month straight. It was all he could do to stay on his feet. But somebody might notice Nott lying unconscious in the next alley over, so Harry drew in a deep breath, bracing himself against the constant pain in his hand, and told himself it wasn't over yet.

"Just my hand," he said, shocked at how much like a croak his voice sounded. "Um, I don't suppose you know a good painkilling spell? Severus knows this really good one . . ."

Hermione did cast something to take the edge off, but it was nowhere near as good as his father's spell.

"So who did this?"

Harry winced just thinking about it. "Nott. And don't say you told me so. I told you I didn't trust him, remember?"

Ron was too good a friend to retort that for all Harry had said that, neither had Harry really expected something like this. "Where is he, then?" said Ron, menace in every word.

"Alley next to the Quidditch shop," gasped Harry, stepping away from Hermione. He felt awful when he realised what they were going to see. "Um . . . he's in pretty bad shape."

"Deserves to be," said Ron with a pointed look at Harry's hand as they began to make their way over to the other alley.

Harry still all but flinched at the thought of what his dark powers could do, but he should have known his friends would stick by him regardless. "Don't blame yourself, Harry," Hermione said when she saw the state Nott was in. "He attacked first. You've a right to defend yourself."

"Yeah." Harry didn't much like what he'd done, but he didn't blame himself. Not like Hermione worried about, anyway. "I don't think we can get him to Severus without somebody seeing, so let's just get him inside. Oh, and don't touch that double-thick Galleon. It's a Portkey . . ."

Hermione carefully put an upside-down cauldron over it so nobody would accidentally touch it.

Ron walked further between the buildings and found a back door to a shop that hadn't been open since they'd started coming to Hogsmeade. Alohomora didn't work on it, he reported. "Must be warded."

"Not against me," said Harry. One wanded charm later and the door popped open. Harry thought his father would understand.

Ron dragged Nott inside, refusing to let Harry help. Just as well, considering the state his right hand was in. All the same, Harry thought better than to leave suggestive evidence lying about, so he started to scoop up Nott's gooey shoes and socks so he could toss them inside. Hermione made a tsking noise and said to let her do it, but when she saw quite how messy it all was, she used a levitation spell instead of her hands.

Harry weakly smiled his thanks, and glanced back to where Nott had been the moment before. The space between the buildings was still strewn with broken eggs; Harry felt sick just looking at them. Or maybe it was the burn making him queasy. He just knew he wasn't in the best shape. By now he felt like he could use a year's worth of sleep.

He thought about casting a Scourgify, or asking Hermione to, but then he realised he might need all that egg in order to restore Nott. If he could restore him, that was. Harry couldn't think about it any longer, not then, so he turned away from the mess. Didn't matter if it continued to litter the alley for a little while. Nobody was going to see the broken eggs and realise what they meant.

Hermione was setting his Honeydukes bag down on a crate when Harry stumbled in; he absently realised she must have scooped it up for him. Had it really only been an hour ago that he'd been buying Draco's sweets? It seemed like weeks had passed since then. He felt shaky. Like he needed to sit down. But he couldn't, not yet. He had to make sure they'd be safe in here.

Not that Harry knew what to do, exactly. They needed Severus.

"Hermione, you go get my dad, all right? Tell him everything on the way. Ron and I will make sure Nott stays Stupefied." Harry paused to think. "Tell Severus to bring Veritaserum. Nott was trying to turn Draco over to Lucius. I bet he knows how he was framed, and probably who killed Pansy . . ."

The minute she was gone, Harry locked the door, then cast some of his best protective spells, using wanded magic for every bit of it. He didn't really think that any of Nott's other associates would show up, but he was taking no chances.

Even if, by the time he was finished, he felt like a stretch of carpet that had been trod on too many times. Practicing wanded spells out in Devon hadn't left him feeling quite as worn out as this. Maybe it was just the burn draining him.

Or maybe it was all the emotion. The screaming in Parseltongue. Just like in his seer dream, the one he'd never been able to properly remember, the one his father had told him about . . .

Now that he had more of a chance to look around, he saw that they were inside a dusty, disused room. It looked like somebody had moved out too fast; they'd left behind dozens of empty boxes and such. The connecting rooms were the same, and there seemed to be no display window on the street side; just a door. Harry warded it as well, using wanded magic again. That last spell made him stagger as he wound back through the rooms to join Ron.

Nott, thank goodness, hadn't moved. Harry wasn't sure he had another spell in him. Not even a wandless one. He collapsed onto a crate next to a wall, and leaned back, carefully keeping his injured hand from touching anything. He tried not to look at it, even. Something about the burn damage was pulling his fingers in tighter and tighter, until now he was practically making a fist. He didn't seem able to uncurl his fingers, though. And it hurt like hell to try, so he didn't.

Not after the first time, when he heard the noise he made during the attempt.

"Sweet Merlin, I wish I had something to help you," said Ron, who had yet to sit down. He was standing guard, wand at the ready, his attention focussed on Nott's prone body. "My healing spells are crap, though. I can't even do that painkilling one Hermione used. Sorry."

"Severus will set it right." Shrugging, Harry tried to get his mind off things. He kept thinking how awful it was that his mother's ring had been destroyed. It shouldn't be hitting him this hard, it really shouldn't. He hadn't had the ring until this year, so it wasn't like he should be attached to it, was it? And he had a father now. A real person, to be there for him, to love him. What was an inanimate object compared to that?

For all that though, his heart still ached as much as his blackened hand. Tears actually started welling in his eyes. Definitely, he had to distract himself. "So, is everything all right now, with you and Hermione?"

"Yeah, I think so." Ron tried to smile, but the effort was strained. "Your father's going to set me another ten thousand lines for this, I just know it. Not that I don't deserve them. We shouldn't have left you alone."

"You didn't. I left you."

"Yeah, well we shouldn't have started kissing like that and made you feel like you had to leave us alone."

"I was the one who told you to kiss and make up, Ronald."

Ron laughed. "It'll be good not to hear her call me that. I was right sick of it."

"Useful it's so easy to figure out when she's miffed, though."

"That's a thought . . ."

They lapsed into silence then, Harry gritting his teeth against the pain he felt inside and out.

"Be good to find out the truth about the Owlery, though," Ron said after a while. "And . . . oh, hell. I guess you'll like it if Malfoy . . . Draco . . . gets completely exonerated, right?"

"He really was unfairly expelled. The Aurors' report said he didn't do it . . . I'm hoping if we can get the whole truth, and confessions or whatever, the governors will feel bad enough to let Draco back into classes where he belongs. I mean, I do know he did attack Pansy early in the year, but he's more than paid for that by now."

"Been nice not having him around to show us all up, though."

Harry nodded, understanding what Ron meant. He used to dread going to class with Draco, too. But things had changed, and Ron was just going to have to get used to it. "If he gets reinstated he's going to visit me in the Tower sometimes."

"And hang around with us, no doubt."

"Well, it's not like he's got a lot of friends left in Slytherin."

Ron scowled. "As long as you're sure he doesn't have a thing for Hermione, I guess I can stand it."

"He doesn't. Trust me on that one. But I'm going to encourage him to make friends with her, and you have to be able to stand that as well."

"Harry--"

"You don't think it would be better for Draco to really start believing that Muggleborns are all right? Well, how else is that going to happen except by getting to know at least one pretty well?"

"Yeah, yeah." Ron made a face.

A noise outside distracted Harry from the conversation. "That'll be Severus and Hermione." He got up to let them in, wishing by then he hadn't used wanded magic . . . and not just because it might seriously annoy his father. It was also the fact that he had to use yet more of it to undo the spells. And by that point, he wasn't sure he could.

He did manage, though it made his stomach twist into awful knots.

"Rather formidable wards," said Snape in a questioning voice as he entered the room.

"Well, I know you said to be good, but--" Harry cleared his throat and decided to just get it over with. "Look, what do you expect? Nott was going to deliver me to Lucius Malfoy! He had a Portkey--" A terrible thought occurred to him. "We can't just leave it out there. I mean, it's not some bit of junk. Somebody'll pick it up. Well, if they see it. It's under one of the cauldrons--"

"Miss Granger showed me." Snape glanced once at Nott's immobile form, then used a spell to gently lift Harry's injured hand into better light. "Mr Nott is lucky you didn't do worse."

Harry looked away, wishing more than ever that he hadn't been holding his wand when he'd cast that Jelly-Legs Jinx.

Snape very carefully pulled Harry's jacket and sleeve cuffs farther up his arm, and studied the straight line that separated burnt flesh from uninjured skin. "I recognise the spell he must have used. This will be more difficult to treat than the average burn, but it can be done."

"You recognise the . . ." Harry gulped. "Oh. It's a Death Eater thing?"

He knew from the look on Snape's face that his father had used this on people before. A long, long time ago, but still . . .

"It's designed to be self-limiting. A good thing, since otherwise your clothes would have caught fire."

Self-limiting, so when the Death Eaters tortured people, they stopped short of killing them . . . Gooseflesh rose all up and down Harry's arms. Well, where he wasn't burnt to a crisp.

"You are otherwise unharmed? Where are your glasses?"

"I'm fine. My eye is so much better that I took them off. No headache, even." Harry gulped, his eyes watering. He told himself it was from the persistent throbbing ache in his right hand. It was just that he was tired of being in so much constant pain. "The . . . the ring's gone, though. Nott destroyed it. He'd figured out I needed to see a snake--"

The Potions Master moved his wand toward Harry's clenched fingers, murmuring a spell, the one he'd used months ago to tell them to forget they were in pain. He flicked the magic over palm and wrist as well, at which point Harry's fingers uncurled a little bit on their own.

"The damaged nerves were making them clench," explained Snape. "Your nerves for the moment are relaxing somewhat. Though I don't expect the spell to function quite as well as previously."

"Talk about understatement," muttered Harry, but then he realised how ungrateful that sounded. "I just mean, it's still really sore. Not so much that I think I'll sick up, though. I mean, your spell did help."

"In a short time you'll be in the infirmary receiving proper treatment," Snape assured him, though his voice was a bit on the questioning side.

"Oh yeah, I can wait," Harry said at once. "I want to know whatever Nott knows, straight away."

"It will be difficult to strategise without that information, and I'm loath to proceed until we have it. Before we deal with Mr Nott, however, I'd like to know how you got through this scrape without your ring." Before Harry could answer, Snape gave a sharp nod. "Ah, of course. The shirt Draco gave you for Christmas. Fortuitous that you wore it today of all days."

As if only then realising how close Harry had come to disaster, Snape pulled him into a close hug, his hands patting his son's back.

"I still had to distract Nott enough so that he didn't get suspicious about what I was doing." Harry gulped, feeling like he had to talk it all out, like if he stopped, something awful might happen. Something else awful. "You remember I was wearing the Gryffindor version of the shirt when I left? So I had to switch it over before I could get my magic working . . . I was worried Nott would notice me unzipping my jacket and put me in a body-bind before I could reach the buttons . . ."

"It's all right, Harry," said Snape in a soothing voice.

"Yeah . . ." Harry finally relaxed against his father, breathing in deeply. Somehow losing his mother's ring hurt less now. Some, at least.

Snape shifted slightly as he looked around. "Perhaps I should have allowed Draco to accompany Miss Granger and myself. He was quite insistent, but not having assessed the situation, I was reluctant to take responsibility for his safety as well as yours." The Potions Master cleared his throat. "Though you appear to have managed quite well on your own."

Harry felt a warm glow heating him from the inside out. He wasn't sure if it was from the praise or from hearing that Draco had wanted to come help.

"Professor Snape," ventured Hermione after a few moments had passed. "Nott's breathing has changed."

"Ah well, duty calls," murmured Snape, though he took the time to pat Harry's back one last time. And drop a kiss on the top of his head. Harry thought he could have done without that last bit . . . or at least, he wished Snape hadn't done that in front of anyone.

Not that Ron and Hermione were likely to make fun of it. They knew, better than anyone else probably, what it meant to him to have a father at last.

Up until then, Snape hadn't glanced at Nott except to verify that the young man was in fact no threat. Now he studied the prone figure more closely and drawled, "Indeed, Miss Granger. I see what you mean."

Harry figured he was talking about the fact that Nott had no legs.

Snape turned to face his son. "It occurs to me to wonder if a standard Jelly-Legs jinx would not have been enough to incapacitate Mr Nott?"

"Yeah." Harry heard himself clearing his throat and wondered over it. He wasn't nervous, not really. "Um, well the whole eggs thing was an accident, actually. I wasn't sure my right hand would channel magic after he burned it, so I used my left, and I don't know how to hold my wand so well in that hand."

Snape raised an eyebrow. "While under attack, you had the presence of mind to attempt to cover your wandless magic?"

Harry's neck felt a little hot at the undeserved praise. "Oh. Well, no. I sort of drew my wand by habit. I'm just not used to doing magic without it out. You know."

"Ah."

"I also did a wanded Expelliarmus. I'm not sure what that did, except I couldn't find his wand anywhere around, afterwards."

"But the locking spells on the door, those were not accidentally done."

"No, sir," said Harry in a low voice.

"Well done, Harry. Decidedly so." The moment Snape turned his attention to the two students standing anxiously to Harry's side, however, he began glowering. "Though I would have preferred he not have been left alone."

"Don't blame them. I left them for a minute. My fault completely." Harry grimaced. "I actually thought about going back for them, but decided I could handle Nott on my own. Which I guess I could, but I see now it was a little reckless of me."

Snape looked from his son to Nott's flat trouser legs and back. "A little?"

"All right. Completely. I'm sorry, sir."

"Desist with the use of sir, if you would."

"Yes, s--" Harry cleared his throat. "Um, sure, Dad."

Snape stared at him for a moment longer. "All in all you did well." He quickly warded the building, then turned back to his son. "It is unlikely, though not impossible that someone may look for Mr Nott here. Now, to interrogating him. The Stupefy is wandless, I think? I'll reverse the effect, then. You don't look quite up to the task."

"I'm all right--"

"You sustained a serious injury and then had to follow it up with the kind of magic that every wizard in the world would find debilitating. Your good hand is shaking and your face is tinged with green. You are manifestly not all right. I'd take you to the infirmary this instant if we didn't urgently need to understand just what we may be facing!"

Harry saw through all that to the love beneath, and abruptly sat down. "That'd be nice if you'd undo the spell, then." He almost added, And Dad? I love you, too, but decided Snape wouldn't much like that with the other Gryffindors standing right there.

Snape's smile was thin as he summoned a short crate that could serve as a seat. Only when he was settled on it with his long legs extended in front of him did he point his wand at the unconscious boy. "Finite Incantatem."

Nott came awake still screaming about his legs.

"Yes, pity, that," said Snape in a thoroughly unsympathetic voice.

The boy on the floor jerked himself into a sitting position, leaning on his hands for balance. "Pr- Pr- Professor Snape?"

"Perhaps you'll be good enough to explain why you thought you'd survive such an imprudent attack on my son, Mr Nott."

Nott's face drained of blood as he tilted it up to look at his Head of House. "I didn't know he could do this to me, did I?"

Snape's expression grew positively malevolent. "I was referring to myself. What made you think you'd survive my wrath? He's my son, Mr Nott. My son." Snape glanced up at Ron and Hermione as though warning them not to interfere. "You can't be so ignorant as to not realise that I've killed before, and for far less cause than this."

Harry stomach plummeted even though he was almost sure his father wouldn't really kill the boy . . . the other part was certainly true, though. Snape had killed people before. Harry tried hard to push that from his mind.

Nott's face was pasty by then. "You're a teacher! You can't--"

"I'm a Death Eater, Mr Nott. The fact that I no longer ally myself with Voldemort hardly changes what that means. And I'd think you know quite well what it means." Snape tapped his wand to Nott's sleeve and began to trace the outline of a Mosmordre spell there.

Harry's stomach squirmed, and the feeling only got worse when his father flicked his wand upward and summoned a few of the eggshell fragments, then allowed them to rain down onto Nott's face. The boy shook his head wildly to get them off him. "You don't like them?" questioned Snape in a mild voice. "A pity, as you're about to lose your arms as well. Harry, perform the armshell spell, if you would--"

"Wait!" screamed Nott, flailing his arms out as though to implore Harry. He ended up losing his balance and flopping to his back, but he pushed himself up again straight away.

Ron tensed, his wand trained on Nott.

But Nott thought better than to flail about again. "Please don't! I'll tell you everything--"

Harry caught his father's gaze and understood. Well, sort of. He didn't really like threatening Nott, but there probably wasn't an ideal way to go about this. "Why should we believe a word that comes out of your lying mouth?"

"I'll take truth serum!" screamed Nott, his eyes wild. "Don't change my arms into eggs, Potter!"

"Hmm, he'll take truth serum," Harry said in a thoughtful voice, letting it be Snape who admitted --or not-- that he had an illegal supply.

Snape raised an eyebrow. "Oh, he'll definitely do that. You can't even depend on your parents to refuse on your behalf, can you, Mr Nott? I do believe you've already reached your majority. How very convenient."

Nott gulped as though he was only then realising what he'd got himself into. "Er . . ."

"The spell, Harry?"

Harry lifted his wand as though to hex the other boy.

Nott's mouth shot open like a fish maw gaping for air.

Snape chuckled darkly as he drew a vial of clear fluid from his robes. He dripped three drops past Nott's trembling lips, then paused for a moment to allow the boy to recover. "So, who caused Pansy Parkinson to fall from the Owlery, Mr Nott?" he asked, his voice that time smooth, with no threat left in it.

Nott's pupils were dilated, his gaze unfocussed as he looked around the dusty room. "I did."

"How?"

Nott blinked several times. "I shoved Draco Malfoy into her until she toppled out the open window."

"Why was Mr Malfoy unconscious?"

"We hexed him when he was kissing Pansy in the supply closet."

"Whom do you mean by we?" pressed Snape, his voice suddenly gone intense.

"I--- we--- I---" Nott sucked in a huge breath and then looked like he was choking on it. "I--- we hexed him, we hexed Pansy, we dragged them both under the invisibility cloak Malfoy had with him and sneaked them up to the Owlery. I-- we hexed Pansy again, Corpus Aqueous. I-- we shoved Malfoy against her until she fell, and then I-- we tried to use the Portkey but it didn't work . . .!!!"

Harry mouthed, we who? at his father, but Snape gave a tiny shake of his head.

"Lucius Malfoy gave you the Portkey?" Nott nodded. "For what purpose?"

"To take Draco Malfoy straight to him," whispered Nott, still gasping for breath. "Wherever he might be."

"Why did you not use the Portkey at once? Why take Draco up to the Owlery at all? Why kill Miss Parkinson?"

Nott reached down and began to pat his empty trouser legs, over and over. "Mr Malfoy's instructions. He wanted Draco framed for murder so he'd be expelled from Hogwarts in case we couldn't get him off school grounds."

Just like I thought, Harry mouthed as he glanced quickly at his friends, who were gaping much as Nott had earlier. But that made sense. They'd only recently realised just how angry Lucius was with Draco.

Snape's expression grew hard, as though he were bracing himself. "Did you kill Miss Parkinson because she was truly trying to escape from a future as Voldemort's sworn servant?"

Nott laughed, the sound harsh. "No."

"Then what were Miss Parkinson's motives in writing to Draco?"

"I don't know."

A rueful look stole into Snape's eyes as he rephrased his question. "What did Miss Parkinson say to you of her motives for writing to Draco Malfoy?"

"She agreed."

Harry wrinkled his brow, but it was Snape who asked the question on everyone's mind. "She agreed to what?"

"To take a love potion so she could convince him she was really in love."

Snape's eyebrows rose up towards his hairline as Hermione gave a little gasp and grabbed for Ron's hand. "A love potion? That's simply awful--"

"Quiet, Miss Granger," said Snape. "Mr Nott, summarise for me the discussions leading up to such an action on Miss Parkinson's part."

Nott stopped patting his trouser legs and leaned back on his palms, his face going almost slack. "Pansy hated Malfoy and wanted revenge for the way he hexed her into St. Mungo's. He'd humiliated her before all Slytherin by choosing Harry Potter over the Dark Lord. She wanted to kill him. I-- we told her we had secret instructions to kill Draco in a particularly public way. By throwing him from the Owlery so the whole world would know what fate awaited a traitor like him. She wanted in. Pansy said she'd do anything if she could be the one to push him out the window."

"Why did you suggest that Miss Parkinson take a love potion?"

Nott gave a slight shrug, his face taking on more expression, though not much. "I-- we needed a way to get Malfoy out of the dungeons if we were going to be able to deliver him to his father. He kept writing to her . . . It seemed like he cared enough about her to take a risk. Pansy wanted to floo him a letter saying to meet her outside Snape's rooms. But she thought the wards on the Floo might read her true intentions and alert him not to meet her. So I said we could potion her to fall in love with him before she wrote the letter. So the letter would slip through. And she agreed."

Harry thought of how convinced Draco had been that Pansy truly loved him, and suddenly understood.

Snape obviously did, too. "Why did you never give her the antidote?"

Nott smiled, the expression self-satisfied. "She talked about him non-stop. She mooned over him and carried his letters around with her and practically worshiped the jewellery he'd sent her for Yuletide. The potion I used had a memory charm mixed in, so she forgot completely that Malfoy would get killed if he met her." Nott smiled. "She was perfect for luring him out. Well, obviously. He came, didn't he? My guess is, he still thinks she really did love him."

Hermione gasped again, that time yanking up one hand to cover her mouth before Snape could rebuke her.

The Potions Master took a moment to consider all that. "At what point did you resolve to kill Miss Parkinson?"

"From the start."

"Your reasons?"

"Who better? Malfoy had a motive to kill her. Besides, I'd-- we'd promised Pansy that she could kill him. She'd have been angry afterwards that we Portkeyed him to his father instead. She might have said something. It was better all around to kill her."

"But the Portkey didn't work, you said. What went wrong?"

"That bloody amulet, that's what went wrong," Nott said, moving awkwardly as though trying to shift his non-existent legs. "I'd-- we'd felt its warmth the whole time we were dragging Malfoy up to the Owlery, but when we tried to use the Portkey the amulet started blazing red-hot. Magic began pouring from it. Green waves of magic. And the Portkey went dead."

"So you determined to take Draco out to the Apparition boundary. What was your plan?"

"To Apparate him to Malfoy Manor where his father was waiting."

Snape's voice dropped an octave, his drawl becoming more pronounced. "Can you already Apparate, Mr Nott? As I recall, you've yet to even attempt the Ministry test."

"I can't get the hang of it," muttered Nott.

"Then how were you going to Apparate Draco Malfoy anywhere?"

"I . . . we . . . I . . ." Nott began gasping for air again, actually raising his hands to his throat and clawing his own skin as he struggled.

Snape stared at him for a long moment. "Your confederates are proficient at Apparition, though. Aren't they, Mr Nott? Seventh-year students, I expect?"

Nott fell to his back and began to thrash for air.

"Ah . . . " Snape nodded to himself, the motion so slight it was barely perceptible. "I see. Something else then, Mr Nott. What happened to the protective wards on the Owlery?"

Nott heaved in a huge breath, sounding exactly like someone who'd broken the surface after being trapped underwater as he struggled back into a sitting position. "Mr Malfoy disabled them. He went into the Owlery earlier that day and took them down. He said that as a governor, he could do it and nobody would be able to tell. And if anyone saw he'd been in the Owlery, well . . . he has a perfect right to wander the school."

Snape nodded as though that confirmed longstanding suspicions. "After the Portkey failed, why did you leave Draco Malfoy out on the grounds instead of continuing with him past the Apparition boundary?"

"I-- we got word that Pansy's body had been spotted. And we realised it would only be seconds later until the grounds would start to be searched. By hand, as well as with the map. And with that amulet still pouring out magic, our feather-light charms weren't working. Nothing magical was working."

Snape sucked in a low, harsh breath, his hands clenching as he sat there, but when his voice emerged it was calm and level. "Tell me about this map."

"It's a magic map. Mr Malfoy said we had to be sure to fool it."

"So you were the one who arranged for the map to make it appear that Draco Malfoy had murdered Miss Parkinson," said Snape, and not in the tone of a question.

Hermione and Ron exchanged a confused glance. Then both of them stared at Harry as though to ask, something you forgot to tell us, mate?

Harry smiled sheepishly back.

Ron snorted slightly. Hermione just looked disapproving that Harry had kept a secret like that from his friends.

"Mr Malfoy arranged it," said Nott.

"How?" barked Snape.

"Lucius Malfoy knew of the map. Crouch had it during the Tournament, took it from Harry Potter. Then it went missing. Mr Malfoy told us that Dumbledore had probably taken it from Crouch. He said the map showed every person inside Hogwarts, and nobody would believe Draco had pushed Pansy unless the map made it look that way. He said to make it so Draco's hexed body would shove Pansy's out the window."

Harry couldn't help himself, then. "Lucius believed Dumbledore was going to be looking at the map at the exact instant when the murder took place?"

"Crouch and Mr Malfoy didn't have enough time with the map. They thought there might be a way to make it show the past and if so, Dumbledore would know how. So it had to show Draco committing the murder."

"And not show you up in the Owlery with him," Snape said. "Why did the map not show you, Mr Nott?"

"Mr Malfoy charmed us that morning when he disabled the Owlery wards."

Snape's eyes narrowed still further. "Tell me about this charm."

"Crouch and Mr Malfoy developed it after Wormtail said James Potter and Sirius Black had tried to develop one--"

Harry clenched the fist on his good hand, wishing for the hundredth time that he hadn't let Wormtail live.

"--the incantation was long," Nott went on. "Latin and French both, I think. And it made us all sick. But that was later. Delayed onset, Mr Malfoy said. He warned us that might happen."

"Why did this sickness spread to those who hadn't been subjected to the map charm?" Snape looked puzzled, but Nott soon cleared it all up.

"Mr Malfoy said it would look too suspicious if I-- we, were the only ones to fall ill. So he gave me-- us, a related hex. He said to cast it on the common room door as soon as we'd delivered Draco to him. So that everyone passing in or out for the next day would get just as sick as us. But it wouldn't take them off the map, he said. He said he didn't want it known that he could make the map lie."

Well, that would explain why every Slytherin except Snape, Draco, and Harry had fallen ill, Harry thought. Harry hadn't been to the common room yet, and Draco hadn't been there in months.

And Snape, of course, usually flooed in rather than use the door.

"Harry, have you any questions?"

Harry didn't hesitate. "How did Lucius Malfoy convince you to go to all this trouble and even put up with a dangerous illness like that?"

Nott sneered. Either the Veritaserum was weakening, or Harry had less sheer presence as an interrogator, for the legless boy wasn't as deferential as he'd been with Snape. "How do you think, Potter? Money. And power. The gratitude of the Dark Lord. They were going to get information from Malfoy. About you. About Snape. About the Dark Mark, and why Snape was still sane when he should have long since lost his mind from resisting the Dark Lord's call."

"Is that why you tried to befriend me? For information?"

Nott's lips twisted. "I thought there might be a way through you to Malfoy. And if not, you might let something useful slip. Which you did, the way you kept looking at your ring. And if all else failed, I thought there might come a time when you were alone and unprotected and I could use the Portkey to give you at least, to Mr Malfoy."

Snape idly twirled his wand between his fingers, but Harry doubted his father was as relaxed as he looked. "What makes you think the Portkey would still function, Mr Nott?"

"It was only the amulet blocking it," Nott said, reverting to a more respectful demeanour. "Same as it blocked our feather-light charms."

"Any other questions, Harry?" When the boy shook his head, Snape turned to the other students. "Miss Granger? Mr Weasley?"

Ron had an arm around Hermione's shoulder by then. Neither one wanted to ask anything.

"Very well, then. It's time to put an end to this." Standing up without warning, Snape levelled his wand on Theodore Nott.

"No!" gasped Harry.

"Stupefy," said Snape, who afterwards raised an eyebrow and stared at his son. "You were expecting something a trifle more . . . violent, I take it?"

"Um . . ." Ashamed by then, Harry didn't want to admit that he'd been just a little afraid he was going to hear Avada Kedavra cross his father's lips. But then again, Snape wouldn't kill Nott without finding out first who this mysterious we was . . . "Um, why didn't you insist he tell you who he was working with?"

"Ah. Because he couldn't. The way he was speaking . . . I recognise the pattern. He's under a Fidelius curse which has only partially taken. My conjecture is that he and his fellow conspirators bound themselves not to speak of the plot. But because they are not competent to cast such a complicated spell, it's only preventing Mr Nott from revealing their identities--the most salient point, surely--and leaving him free to discuss all the other particulars."

Hermione cleared her throat. "Wouldn't Lucius Malfoy have put them under Fidelius, sir? To protect himself?"

"No doubt he would have, at the successful conclusion of the plot. Until then, he would need to leave them free to recruit other allies as needed. I've no doubt, given today's events, that Lucius is still actively seeking Draco's removal from Hogwarts."

Harry sighed. "If we can't make Nott tell us who he was working with, then what are we going to do? Even if we proved Draco innocent, he couldn't go back to Slytherin. Not until we knew who was behind all this."

"I think perhaps the next logical step would be for me to take a nap," said Snape.

"What?"

"Excuse me?"

"Huh?"

Snape swept his dark gaze over all three Gryffindors before settling it on Harry. Then he said two words. Two words only, but Harry understood.

"Truthful Dreams."

"Oh . . . "

When the implications came clear to Harry, the suggestion made perfect sense. Snape had been looking at the map with Harry at the precise instant Draco had apparently shoved Pansy out of the Owlery. And what was Truthful Dreams designed to do, but show you what you'd seen and couldn't remember? Snape had seen the whole map. He'd scanned it, looking for clues.

Truthful Dreams would be able to show him not just who he'd seen in Hogwarts, but who he hadn't seen.

Truthful Dreams could show him who had been missing.

But still . . . Harry looked up, his own gaze burning with intensity. "I should do it, Dad. I saw the map as well. And I don't have your . . . er, that is, I can tolerate Loosestrife a little better than you can, don't you think?"

Snape's lips curled up a little bit, as though he appreciated Harry not mentioning his addiction in front of the others. "I've used the potion hundreds of times, Harry, and I've learned to focus my dreams on what I need to see. I had to, to make it assist my efforts to spy. And too, I spent a great deal more time looking at the map than you did. I'm far more likely to solve this riddle than are you."

"I understand that--"

"It will be all right," Snape assured him. "Though I think we've lingered here quite long enough."

Harry agreed with that, but still . . . "Getting home might be a problem. I mean, with the state Nott's in. Somebody's bound to wonder why you're levitating him . . ."

Snape tilted his head to the side, his gaze calculating something. "I don't suppose you brought along that infernal invisibility cloak?"

"Well, no . . ."

"I don't know whether to laud you or curse," said Snape dryly. "Though of course several options remain. Mr Weasley, I assume you have already side-along Apparated before. Miss Granger, you are already seventeen, I believe. Can you Apparate yourself yet?"

Hermione shook her head, her eyes going wide. "I haven't had a chance to take lessons. I thought over the summer . . ."

"Side-along Apparition for you as well, then."

Harry remembered then, how his father hadn't wanted to Apparate Hermione before. It was nice that he was willing to now, even if the circumstances were sort of dictating it.

Hermione was frowning. "But we can't Apparate back into Hogwarts, can we, sir?"

"The fastest and most discreet route back to the dungeons is to Apparate into the Shrieking Shack and take the tunnel onto the grounds." Snape crossed his arms, his whole appearance taking on a fierceness Harry didn't often see, these days. "I suppose I can trust you three miscreants not to hex me this time."

They never had said sorry for that, Harry suddenly realised. On the other hand, Snape had pretty much got even with Hermione when he'd made her think he was going to Obliviate her.

"I know it's not your favourite place--"

"No," said Snape shortly. "But it will suffice. I wish to get back to Draco quickly. He wasn't happy being left out. Not unlike you, actually." Without the slightest warning then, Snape pointed his wand at Nott and murmured a spell.

But nothing happened.

"Ah, yes," said the Potions Master, his voice heavy that time. "Your wanded magic remains impenetrable to outside influence. Apparently any sort of physical manipulation is ruled out until you cancel the spell he's already under."

"But your Stupefy worked just fine . . ."

"It wasn't another transformation. I'd like to transfigure Mr Nott into something that will fit in my hand. It wouldn't do to alert his confederates should they see him being taken into custody, as it were."

"I feel up to it, I think," Harry said cautiously. This time his father didn't contradict him. "Um, do you think I'd better Accio all the egg bits first?"

"Not unless you had scattered them by means of a spell."

"Right. Of course." Harry closed his eyes and thought for a moment, then lifted his wand with his left hand as he looked down at the buttons on his shirt. "Go back the way you were."

Nothing.

"Regular legs . . . be bone and muscle . . ."

Still nothing.

"No more eggs!" Harry finally shouted, frustrated. He relaxed when he saw Nott's trouser legs fill out again. Ron put socks and shoes on the boy.

Snape raised an eyebrow. "That sounds remarkably like what I once heard you say in your sleep."

"Yeah . . . I think maybe the seer dreams have all come true. About time. Anyway, go ahead . . . what were you going to make him into?"

"What he deserves to be," said Snape, his voice silky-smooth. Uh-oh. Harry wasn't quite sure what to expect, but when his father cast the spell this time, Nott vanished completely, clothes and all. In his place was a small brown insect, still Stupefied. "Dung beetle. Fitting."

Hermione grinned. "I have a jar you could use for him."

"Save that one for Skeeter if she comes around bothering Harry again," said Ron.

Snape held the beetle inside his closed fist. "Apparating all of you at once will be somewhat of a strain," he said. "It may not be the smoothest possible transition, Miss Granger."

"Ha. Side-along is awful. A lot worse than going to Devon by Portkey," Harry said. When he saw how Hermione stepped closer to Ron as though in need of reassurance, he felt like a right heel. "Sorry. I just meant . . . um, it takes some getting used to."

"It'll be all right," Ron said in a bolstering tone. "I'll take care of you."

"Ah, you two have reconciled," Snape said in a rather biting tone. "Oh, well. I suppose points from Gryffindor over all that squabbling in class was getting a bit trite."

Harry didn't think it was too cunning of his father to remind him of all the points he'd taken in recent weeks. "You ought to take points from Slytherin for Nott attacking me, you know."

He expected his father to say off school grounds or conflict of interest or . . . well, pretty much anything that would provide an excuse.

"Done," Snape said, though he declined to announce just how many points. "There are a few things to see to before we depart," he added, waving his wand to cancel his wards. After that he stepped outside for a few seconds. Harry didn't ask, but he figured his father was fetching the Portkey. He wondered if he'd used a handkerchief, as Nott had, to keep from touching it.

Once he was back inside, Snape wasted no time. "Well? Come here, all of you."

Harry stepped without hesitation against his father, welcoming the arm that came around his shoulders. When Ron and Hermione were sort of scrunched together under Snape's other arm, Harry thought he'd better mention, "It's a lot better if you hang on tight."

While Ron looked at him as if he were mad, Hermione bunched her fist in Snape's robes, though she was clearly ill at ease doing so. "Sorry, sir--"

Snape never replied. In the next instant they were all Apparating. Harry grit his teeth as it felt like the whole world melted into his bones and got stuck there. The Apparition took longer than usual, probably because Snape was transporting so many people at once. By the time they all reached the Shrieking Shack, Harry was panting.

Not so Hermione.

"That was brilliant!" she enthused, actually twirling away from Snape the minute her feet hit the floor. "Can we do it again? Oh--"

"Yes, not exactly the optimal time," drawled Snape as he hurried them down into the tunnel. When they emerged onto the grounds, he told Ron and Hermione to go down to his quarters and tell Draco that Harry was out of danger. "And wait there, please. Harry and I will be along shortly. He needs to stop in at the hospital wing. Then we'll deal with all the rest."

Harry waited until he was alone with his father to quietly ask, "Are you sure we shouldn't deal with . . . er, the dung beetle first?"

"He'll be dealt with soon enough. When I'm ready."

Harry wondered what that meant. "About Draco, though. Are you sure he can even open the door to let Ron and Hermione in? I mean, it does take a spell . . ."

Snape cast Harry a sidelong look. "I do actually know what I'm doing, you realise. Draco has the means to admit your friends."

That little tidbit certainly got Harry over his annoyance. "Oh, you mean these days you're letting him have the . . ." He thought better than to mention the wand. Technically, an expelled student was supposed to have one. Not even a borrowed one.

"Not knowing the full situation, I was hardly going to leave him down there defenceless." Snape's expression grew grim. "For all I knew, the . . . beetle's . . . activity could have been part of a larger scheme."

"I'm surprised you left him alone in that case."

"He was safest behind my wards. Until I understood the situation, at least."

Harry had to stop then, and lean against a wall. He wished he could stop panting.

"There's no shame in Mobilicorpus, you realise," Snape said after a moment of watching him.

Harry glanced up into his father's dark eyes. "Maybe not, but . . . um, you didn't much like it that time, did you?"

"I wondered if you'd have the nerve to bring that up."

Harry shrugged, then wished he hadn't, since Snape's painkilling spell was wearing thin by then. He'd jarred his hand. "We're past it though, right? It doesn't matter now."

"No," Snape said, his voice thoughtful. "I could carry you, you know. I did after Samhain."

"You just need to do something fatherly, don't you?" Harry did his best to smile. "I can make it the rest of the way."

"As you wish," said Snape, but he didn't move until Harry began walking again.

Madam Pomfrey did the usual amount of clucking and fussing, her comments interspersed with liberal amounts of commentary about the mischief this boy always gets up to. She did make his hand feel a lot better, though. Three different spells and one horrible-tasting potion and it looked red instead of black. Red and blistered. Still, that was a huge improvement. His fingers were no longer curled into claws.

When Harry tried a swish-and-flick with his wand, though, he was shocked at how much the movement hurt.

"What do you expect?" demanded Pomfrey in her sing-song voice. "It'll take a few treatments, you know. I'm a medi-witch, not a miracle worker! Now, into bed with you. Into bed at once, you'll be needing to rest in between treatments--"

"He'll rest at home," Snape insisted.

"Well, don't let him improvise any more flame-throwing spells," sniffed Pomfrey, clearly put out. That was all right, though. At least she'd believed their explanation for the terrible burns. "If you won't stay here then I absolutely insist you be fitted with a sling to minimize unnecessary movement."

Yeah, Harry knew all about her and her slings. When she drew her wand and made quick work of one, though, he thought it was the strangest sling he'd ever seen. Blue fabric dotted with crescent moons woven in gold thread? And edged with tiny tassels?

Pomfrey stared at it in exasperation. "After your lengthy stay here earlier this year, the hospital wing evidently believes in making you comfortable."

"I'm not staying!"

"Yes, Mr Potter, your father made that clear. Now, you also mentioned your vision, I believe. I personally think it's highly doubtful you're ready to leave off the glasses, but we'll see--"

"I'll leave you to it, then," said Snape, brushing off his robes as though preparing to leave. "I've some things to do, Harry. I'll come back for you once you've had your vision examination."

Harry took that to mean, I have to brief Albus and arrange for Order Aurors to get here.

It seemed to Harry that the medi-witch put him through about four different eye exams. It was like she didn't want to admit the obvious. Harry didn't think that was because she wanted him to have bad vision. More likely, it was professional jealousy. She knew she couldn't have cured Harry's eyes after Samhain, not without Snape to help. She hadn't got over her resentment yet.

She was, however, an honest person once she was finally convinced. "Well, I suppose that's it. I can't find a single reason why you should have to wear glasses any longer. Both your eyes have perfect vision."

A whooping noise from the doorway had Harry turning around; there stood Ron, Hermione, and Draco. It was Ron who had cheered at the news. Harry couldn't help but notice that his best friend was standing rather deliberately between Draco and Hermione. Harry almost sighed, but other matters took precedence. "What are you doing here? I thought my father told you to wait for us in his quarters."

"This git insisted on coming to see you," said Ron, jerking his head in Draco's direction. "I thought he wasn't allowed out."

Ron said that last bit like they were talking about a pet who soiled the hallways or something.

"I'm not under house arrest, Ronald," sneered Draco as he walked forward.

"Don't call me that!"

"Sorry, I have to placate Harry," breezed the other boy, sounding not the least bit apologetic. "You know, stay on his good side, all that. And he positively insists I use your first name."

Harry thought all that was a bit of an overstatement, but he supposed it was Draco's way of saving face.

"Well . . . at least make it Ron," returned Ron, clearly disgruntled.

"And you?" Draco turned to Hermione, his lips curled in a sly smile. "Would you prefer Herm?"

"Would you prefer Drake?"

"Oh, Slytherins hate nick-names. Call Severus Sev sometime and you'll see what I mean. Well, after you regain consciousness. But Gryffindors, you know, they're sort of happy-go-lucky almost doltish types, so I thought--"

"You know, rude for rude's sake isn't exactly a goal you should aim for, Draco," said Harry, sighing. "And why are you here? Severus isn't going to be so happy you snuck out."

"I did not sneak." Draco shrugged, then. "Look, all these two could talk about was a hand half-burnt off. Well, when they weren't making eyes at each other. I could practically hear wedding bells--"

He grinned widely when Ron and Hermione both blushed at that. "Anyway, I had to see for myself that you were all right."

Harry moved so that his brother could see down the side of the sling.

"Hmm. I wouldn't duel for a while if I were you. Maybe some of Severus' burn salve would clear that up."

"My treatments are quite adequate, young man!" said Pomfrey in a shrill tone.

Draco ignored her. "I don't suppose it's too bad. You look like you'll heal."

An exasperated voice rang out from the doorway. "Draco, what in Merlin's name are you doing out of bounds?"

"I didn't realise a little fraternal concern would put me out of bounds," said Draco, lifting his chin. "Besides, how much safer could I have been? I came with them."

He said the last word scornfully, but his eyes spoke another message entirely. Harry caught it at once. If Snape trusted Ron and Hermione to serve as Harry's bodyguards, more or less, then how could he say that Draco had been reckless walking the halls with them?

As it turned out, Snape could say exactly that. "Oh, Merlin knows nobody ever came to harm when they were with them," Snape said, his tone just one shade shy of a full-blown sneer. "It's not as though they recently allowed harm to come to someone they were charged to protect, is it?"

He looked down the length of his long nose at Draco, who looked down.

"I wanted to see that Harry was all right."

"I'm cleared to leave my glasses off," said Harry, hoping to head off an argument. Or more of one, at any rate. "So can we just go, now?"

Snape gave Draco one last fearsome glare, then let the matter go. Perhaps he was remembering that if everything worked out, Draco would be readmitted to Hogwarts. "Very well."

Ron wrapped his fingers around Hermione's. "We'll see you Monday in classes, then, Harry."

"I should like you to come down to my quarters, actually," said Snape, his tone not exactly threatening but not exactly not, either.

Harry could tell that Ron was remembering doing all those lines. He tried to give his friend an encouraging smile, but Ron still said, "Um . . . well . . ."

"We have things to discuss."

"Yes, sir," said Ron in a low voice.

As it turned out, Snape didn't have all that much to say to Ron and Hermione. He just hadn't wanted to say it in front of Pomfrey, apparently. "Mr Nott will not be divulging to anyone the fact that Harry's powers are fearsome rather than weak," he announced the moment he'd shut the door behind the whole group. "Nor will he be telling anyone that Harry's spellcasting so overwhelmingly requires him to have a snake at hand. Therefore, the story will be as follows. After you two left Harry alone--"

"They didn't leave me--"

Snape silenced him with a glare. "While Harry was on his own, he became bored enough to experiment with flame-throwing spells, just as Pomfrey believes."

Harry thought that story made him sound ridiculous, but he didn't argue again.

"Because his magic is so inept these days, he burned his own hand," continued Snape. "Nott happened to wander into him and seized his chance to do Harry some harm. You two heard his cries for help and came to his rescue. Now, Mr Nott's wand has vanished into the great unknown, so it should be safe to say he cast any number of hexes. Mr Weasley, what would you like to cast to incapacitate him?

It took Ron a moment to catch on. "Um . . . oh. I guess just a regular Jelly-Legs." He grinned and pointed his wand. "Ready, Draco?"

"Are you ready, is more to the point," said the other boy, sneering. "As I recall you have a penchant for casting hexes that rebound on yourself."

"Cast it on the floor, Mr Weasley."

"That's no fun," muttered Ron, though he did do as Snape had requested.

"Sir, what are we going to say happened to Nott's wand?" asked Hermione.

"Merely that it could not be found. No-one will have an explanation for it. Interested parties will likely assume that the Death Eaters have something to do with its disappearance." Snape paused as though expecting more questions, but none came. "Now, to finish the story. After Nott was laid low by your formidable hex, Mr Weasley, you pulled him inside a nearby building and guarded him while Miss Granger came to get me. As I'd prefer not to mention the Shrieking Shack as our point of return, we will say I Apparated you all to the far side of the grounds and walked from there."

Snape glanced about expectantly. "Are we all agreed? This story will of necessity become public information when I press the governors to reinstate Draco into Hogwarts."

"They owe me a public apology--"

"You won't get that."

"We're agreed, sir," said Hermione. "Though you know, it's not just boys who can rush in and save the day."

Snape looked a bit startled at the way she'd said that. "Ah. Well, you may say that you were occupied taking care of Harry."

"Oh, all right."

Ron, of course, didn't mind being cast in the hero role. Not one bit, so Harry didn't complain about how stupid this made him seem. He couldn't, really. It matched, more or less, what they had told Pomfrey. He was stuck with it. And anyway, if he complained his father would just say he hadn't been too clever, had he, wandering off on his own in Hogsmeade. "How are you going to make Nott tell the story right?"

Snape's eyes gleamed. "I thought you would have guessed, by now. That imbecile Lockhart is not the only wizard who can cast a competent memory charm, Harry. Nott won't know what transpired today in Hogsmeade."

Harry smiled a little bit at that. "You just couldn't make it through the school year without Obliviating a student, could you? But you won't make him forget about all the things he confessed to?"

"Of course not. He's not just going to be expelled, he's going to Azkaban."

Harry glanced at Draco. His brother had hard eyes, now, which was enough for Harry to realise that Ron and Hermione had told him that Nott was the one who had killed Pansy. He somehow doubted his friends had mentioned anything about the love potion, though. Harry chewed his lip, wondering how Draco was going to take that.

"The Aurors will no doubt need to interview you to make things official," said Snape as he showed Ron and Hermione out. "I imagine you'll be summoned at some point. Later today, most likely."

The moment Harry's friends had left, Draco looked up at his father. "Where's this dung beetle?"

"Safe. And no, you may not grind him into pulp."

"He deserves it!"

"Nonetheless," Snape said briskly. "We will leave justice to the Ministry and the governors. And remember, we still need to find out with whom Nott was working."

Draco nodded, and then, as if in need of a distraction, looked his brother up and down. "Hmm. Say, that's a really nice shirt."

"Yeah. Good present. I guess that makes us even, since the amulet saved your life."

Draco raised an eyebrow.

"Yeah, Nott had a Portkey, but it failed when the amulet went crazy." Looking down, Harry mused, "You know, it's strange the amulet did a thing like that. It wasn't supposed to. I think it must have had something to do with my dark powers. Oh . . . I bet I know."

"What?"

"Well . . . " Harry glanced back up. "You'd hexed me, right? And I broke the hex, but I never really told you how. I . . . I was so worried for you, Draco. I was lying there," he pointed to the spot, "absolutely convinced you were going to get killed. I had to be able to do something to help you. I just had to. And for some reason, I guess it was instinct, I started concentrating really hard on how much I loved you. I mean, I didn't want to lose my brother just when I'd finally got one. And then, I don't know . . . it was like I could feel my dark powers start bursting through my skin. I thought I was just breaking the hex but now I think I must have been firing up the amulet, too."

"Oh, Merlin." Draco stepped back, a bit unsteady on his feet, and leaned on the wall for support. "I . . . that was you, making the amulet heat up like that?"

"Well, it kept them from using magic on you. No Portkey, no feather-light charms to get you across the grounds faster," Harry said, a bit defensive. He was afraid that Draco was going to go off again about how Harry was to blame for that horrible burn.

Draco's voice was quiet with shock. "I'd just punched you in the face and cast Petrificus on you! And you saved me?"

Harry smiled. "That's about it."

He saw Draco swallow. "So you really do love me."

"I've only said so about a hundred times. What, did you think I was joking?"

"No, I thought you didn't know what you were talking about! I thought you were in love with the whole family idea, and sooner or later you'd get tired of it. Well, of me. I didn't think you'd get tired of Severus."

Oh, God. Draco expected that people who said they loved him would later admit that they never really had. And that, more or less, was exactly what Pansy Parkinson had done. She'd pretended to love him, and made it convincing by using a potion. And now they had to tell him that it never had been true.

They couldn't just let him hear it from Nott, or keep it from him forever. Draco would want to know the whole plot, everything about how he'd been framed. He'd demand to be present for Nott's interrogation. And he wouldn't understand if Severus said no.

"I'm not going to get tired of having a brother, Draco. Well, not any more than normal brothers do."

Draco swallowed again. "I guess this means I can't hold the burn against you any longer. Or resent being scarred, not if that's what kept me from being Portkeyed back to Lucius to be tortured to death."

"Yeah, but your shirt saved me from pretty much the same thing, so it's like I said. We're even." Harry stared at Draco for a couple of seconds to make sure he really understood. He didn't want gratitude between them. That wasn't what being brothers was about. "Um, Dad? Do you want to do the Truthful Dreams thing now, or should we talk to Draco? About . . . um . . . well, the Aurors will be here soon, won't they?"

Draco looked from Harry to Snape and back. "Talk to me about what?"

"Er . . ."

"Harry, the Aurors will not arrive until I summon them. We have as much time as we need."

To get Draco through this, Harry mentally finished.

"But I thought you did ask the headmaster to contact the Aurors already. You know, during my eye exam?"

"That was merely a contrivance so I might search Mr Nott's dormitory, given that most of Slytherin is in Hogsmeade. I found nothing of use." Snape nodded as though coming to a decision, and laid a hand on Draco's shoulder, something he hardly ever did, or at least, not in Harry's presence.

Draco looked up into his father's eyes. "Talk to me about what?"

Snape's voice was gentle. "I think perhaps you had better sit down, Draco. We really do need to talk."