Harry stopped in outrage, glaring at Draco. Draco stood up slowly, a sheepish look on his face that he tried to turn into a sneer.

"What do you want, Potter?" Draco demanded, but his voice had lost its usual bravery and went up high at the end.

Harry growled and grabbed Draco by the front of his shirt.

"Looking for a fight?" Draco asked, ready to put up his fists.

But Harry stepped back, tightening his fist on Draco's shirt. Draco gave him a scared look - eyes open and wide - and then Harry stepped back quickly. He pulled Draco with him, whirled the blond boy in a circle. Harry turned faster and faster, and Draco stumbled along with him. They neared the wall, and Harry gave his arm a jerk and let go.

Moving with centrifugal force, Draco kept moving until he ran smack into the wall. Draco slammed into the stone wall and immediately fell back, hitting the floor with an "Oof!"

"Teach you not to be such a sneak," Harry snarled.

"Mr. Potter!" Snape bellowed from the doorway of his office.

But Harry had had it with him too. Not even looking in Snape's direction, Harry took off down the hall.

"Come back here!" Snape ordered.

Harry kept running, going faster and faster until he ran out into the warm sunshine of the September morning.

He was heading towards Hagrid's hut, he realized after a few more sprints, but then he abruptly turned and ran for the woods behind the hut. Once the trees had closed around him, Harry stopped, panting for breath.

"UH!" he kicked at a huge oak tree in front of him. His foot inside his shoe hurt, but the pain didn't stop his anger. "Stupid, sodding, ugly, potion-sucking bastard!"

"Such strong words," a voice observed.

Harry whirled to see Dumbledore watching him. The old wizard was sitting on a stump, a walking staff in his hand.

"Oh, sorry, sir," Harry flushed. "Didn't know anyone was here."

"I take it you are upset with someone," Dumbledore noted, his blue eyes watching Harry quietly.

"No, no one in particular," Harry shrugged, trying not to look like he was lying. "Just school, you know."

"I fear I do not understand your fury towards your studies," Dumbledore replied, still watching. "At your age, I only showed that sort of - ehem," he coughed, " temper when I felt someone close to me had wronged me."

"Can't hide anything from you," Harry sighed. He sat down in front of the older wizard on a fallen log. "You know about Snape, right?"

"My dear boy," Dumbledore smiled, "I would be telling you to call him Professor, but I feel the two of you have moved past that stage by now."

"He calls me Harry, most of time," Harry admitted.

"And what do you call him?"

"Snape. I wish I could call him, well, you know."

Dumbledore smiled again. "I feel you have more faith in my ability to understand exactly what you mean than I do."

"I called him Dad once or twice," Harry looked down at the pine-needle-covered ground. "It felt good, but then it felt weird, and I went back to Snape. I thought about Uncle, but I don't know."

"He has a first name," Dumbledore pointed out.

"Yeah, but Severus sounds worst than Snape," Harry objected.

"You are in a bit of a pickle," Dumbledore agreed. "Was this whole name dilemma that upsetting to make you call names and kick a tree that did you no harm?"

"I was mad at Snape," Harry said, feeling a little frustrated with Dumbledore's pretended ignorance. "We had a fight."

"Did you now?"

"Yes, we had a row in his office. He doesn't trust me."

"Dear me," Dumbledore shook his head.

Harry had an overwhelming urge to smile at his own temper, but he forced himself to scowl instead. "Yes, he was having Draco follow me around and spy on me."

"That does sound aggravating," Dumbledore noted. "Did Snape say why?"

"No, I left before him could."

"You just walked out?"

"Well, I might have shouted at him to stay out of my way and I called him a git, and then I left. And then I saw Malfoy, and I flung him into a wall before I ran off."

"Ah, to be young again," Dumbledore shook his head. "Was Mr. Malfoy unharmed?"

"I dunno," Harry muttered. He scuffed the ground with the toe of his shoe.

They sat in silence for a few seconds. The birds in the trees tittered, and Harry could hear the wind rustling the leaves.

"You think I was wrong?" Harry finally spoke.

"I think it's far too nice a day to be angry," Dumbledore announced. "I myself often find other people to be highly frustrating. Why, just this morning I received two notes from parents who asked if their children could stay over holidays as the parents didn't want to be bothered with said children until June. I couldn't imagine anyone having children and not wanting to see them on Christmas. I hope those with loving parents learn to appreciate the attention and care they show them."

"You think I was wrong to snap at Snape?" Harry glanced up. "I should have kept my temper?"

"Very hard to put oneself in another's shoes," Dumbledore tapped the ground with his staff. "I don't suppose I would enjoy someone doubting my ability to make good decisions or having another someone spying on me. But on the other hand, were I a very bright young man with a heavy load of responsibility on my shoulders, I might like someone to watch out for me so I don't come to an untimely end as I very nearly have done so several times before."

"I liked it better in the spring when you talked to me straight and direct," Harry commented.

"Very well," Dumbledore pushed himself up, straightening until the top of his gray cap nearly touched the lower tree branches. "Stop doubting Professor Snape and stop losing your temper."

Harry blanched. Dumbledore had never been so direct with him before.

"Both of you need to learn to wait before you react," Dumbledore continued. "You must stop shouting out things, or Severus will do nothing but reprimand you."

Harry turned even redder. "He - uh, he told about all that?"

"Did he tell me that he punished you when you deserved it?" Dumbledore looked very stern. "Yes, he did. His methods may be a bit old-fashioned, but he kept his promise to return you safe and sound at the end of summer. In this case, perhaps the ends justify the means."

"I hate that saying," Harry grumbled under his breath.

"We all do at times," Dumbledore agreed. "But I told you years ago that I believed in Snape. I would not choose a better man to guard you this year."

"Guard me?" Harry blinked. "Don't you mean be my guardian?"

"Oh, yes, yes," Dumbledore agreed hastily. "The same thing, in my old mind. But now, my boy, I think you have sat and sulked enough for one morning. Let us take a walk around the lake and chat for bit before lunch. I am extremely eager to hear about your summer, well, at least the pleasant bits. The unpleasant parts, you are welcomed to omit."

"Then I'll have to leave out whole weeks all together," Harry muttered as he fell into step beside Dumbledore.

Dumbledore shook his head, but his eyes were smiling.

------

A long walk and a good lunch lifted Harry's sprits. At lunch, he didn't see Snape. Draco was sitting with the Slytherins, refusing to look at Harry. Worty raised a hand of greeting to Harry, and Harry smiled back. The little boy seemed happier than the last time Harry had seen him, and Harry hoped that he had finally settled in and made some friends.

At the table at Harry's place was a small folded piece of paper. He opened it slowly, afraid it might be a trick of Draco's. But instead on the inside in small letters was written: Meet me at midnight instead of nine in my classroom. M.M.

The paper turned to ash as soon as he read it, and Harry brushed his hands on his trousers, hoping no one else had seen.

After lunch, Ron wanted to talk more about Snape, but Hermione said she wanted to study. Harry said he was going to talk to a few teachers so Ron reluctantly wandered off with Hermione for a few hours of studying though he protested it was too early to need to study for anything.

Harry took a book outside, one he had taken from Snapdragon Manor, and found a comfortable spot on the grass by the castle to read. He was in the middle of a pirate story (really who ever guessed that wizards could write such good pirate stories?) when a tall shadow fell over his book.

Harry glanced up to see Snape standing over him. The sunlight was behind Snape, making the man's face dark and shadowy.

"We need to talk," Snape said quietly.

"I'm reading," Harry rolled over onto his stomach. A second later, he thought he better not be cheeky while he was laying front down, so he rolled back over to lie on his back and blocked Snape out with the book.

"You have one second to put that book down and come with me or else," Snape said in a deadly calm voice.

Harry dropped the book to glare up at Snape. "Or what? You'll have someone else follow me around? Want to get one of your sneaky Slytherins to spy on me?"

"I would watch my tone," Snape said in the same quiet tone, "especially with students not that far away and so many tree branches nearby, waiting to be turned into switches."

"You wouldn't," Harry declared.

"Do you really want to find out?" Snape raised an eyebrow.

Growling, Harry rolled up to his knees and stood, grabbing his book with one hand. "I can't get a moment of peace," Harry complained. "I just wanted to read for a while."

A few students close by were tossing a ball around, but they stopped to watch Harry and Snape. Harry realized with a cringe that most of them were first-years, and he prayed Snape wouldn't do anything to embarrass him.

"What are you staring at?" Snape snapped at them. "Go back to playing your ridiculous game before you all get detention."

The children began throwing the ball to each other so fast they could barely catch it. Then one girl flung the ball down the hill away from the castle, and they all used the excuse to run away down the hill.

"They weren't hurting anyone," Harry objected. "Why couldn't they stay?"

"Because they were being nosy," Snape told him. "Now, would you like to go by yourself inside to my office or would you like some help?"

"What?" Harry challenged. "You're going to pull me by the hand inside if I refuse?"

Snape didn't answer.

"You wouldn't dare," Harry gasped. "I swear, Snape, you grab me by the hand or the ear or anything, and I'll never speak to you again."

"Well, in that case," Snape pretended to reach for his hand.

Harry stuffed his hands in his pockets and hurried a few steps ahead of Snape. The dungeons seemed dark and cold after the warm afternoon, but Harry didn't comment on it. He went into Snape's office, took a seat in front of the desk, and crossed his arms. "I'm waiting," Harry said in a voice that was much more arrogant than he meant it to be.

"Thank you, your highness," Snape sneered as he sat down.

They eyed each other for a few seconds. Harry was determined not to be the first to speak, and he felt a little surge of satisfaction when Snape broke the silence.

"Don't you have something to say to me?"

"Not that I can think of," Harry said, trying to ignore thoughts of the conversation he had had earlier with Dumbledore. "Don't you have something to say to me?"

"And what would that be?"

"How about ‘Sorry for having Draco spy on you'?"

"Oh, I'm not sorry about that," Snape replied immediately. "I'm only sorry you found out."

Harry's mouth dropped open in outrage. "You git!" he accused. "You two must like spying on me. ‘Oh, what's Potter up to now? Draco, you follow him for a while, and I'll take him after supper'."

"It was for your own good," Snape begin, but Harry rolled his eyes.

"Yeah, right. Everything's for my own good, every nice little thing you do to me."

"Sarcasm isn't a pretty color on you," Snape observed. "Try your usual Gryffindor idiocy with a little heroism for a better look."

"Why?" Harry held out his hands. "Why do you want to make me so angry?"

Snape blinked in surprise, and then he sighed. "You're right."

"I am?" Harry sat up, surprised.

"I understand why you're frustrated," Snape admitted. "Just with the beginning of the school year and our new arrangement . . . before we left home, I went over a few accounts and I began thinking about the last five years you've been here."

Harry winced inwardly, guessing at what Snape was getting at.

"Five years, every one ending in near death for you, each time getting more dangerous and terrifying. I started thinking of why you get into these situations, and I couldn't find a reason other than things just happen to you. So, I thought maybe if I started watching you at the beginning of the school year, I might stop the first thing that eventually leads you towards tragedy. But I can't watch you every second, and Draco was there with nothing to do and so . . ." Snape sighed again. He looked tired and worn out. "But the real truth is I would do anything to protect you now. Anything."

Harry watched him for a second and then huffed. "I hate it when you have good reasons for being a total prat," Harry growled.

"Watch your language," Snape admonished. "Is that enough of a talk, or do you want more?"

"No, I'm good," Harry agreed.

"Then I need you to tell me if anything suspicious has happened?" Snape watched Harry carefully.

Harry shifted the least bit. "Like what?"

"Anything unusual," Snape said carefully. "Anyone talking to you in a strange way or asking you to do something odd?"

"Not that I can think of," Harry hedged. Madame Moretta crowded his thoughts, but he wasn't going to tell Snape - he couldn't. Snape might not let him go, and Harry was going to find out what the strange woman wanted.

"Are you sure?" Snape questioned.

"Positive," Harry nodded.

"Good enough," Snape stood and walked over to the large cupboard. He opened it and pulled out a long object.

"My broom," Harry cheered.

"I had the ban removed," Snape told him. "You can go fly for a bit. But stay on school grounds, and don't swim over the lake. You get wet at all, and you won't see that broom until Christmas."

Grinning, Harry went for the door, glad to spend a long afternoon flying.

------

That evening after supper, Snape put him to work straightening the classroom, but Harry was careful to watch the clock. Around nine, he faked several yawns, and Snape called it quits. Promising to return the next afternoon, Harry headed up to his dormitory. Ron was hanging out with Seamus and they asked Harry to join a game of Exploding Snap. Two hours later with his hands smarting from the exploding cards, Harry announced he was off to bed.

The other boys in his room had flown some as well and played ball, and they followed his lead to bed. But by almost twelve, they were sound asleep. Harry slipped out of bed and fumbled for his Cloak and wand.

He made it out of tower with little noise, creaking the portrait of the Fat Lady slowly as to not wake her and shutting her softly. He did not light his wand, feeling along the walls and stairs in the dark castle. He made his way slowly to Madame Moretta's classroom, trying to step as softly as possible. The stones did not squeak as the floorboards at the manor did, and Harry had the fleeting thought that he would never be able to slip out of Snapdragon Manor quietly unless he jumped out the window. But he made it to the classroom door and tapped softly on the wood.

The door swung open, and Harry saw the dark haired teacher sitting behind her desk with her hands pressed together. Two black candles stood on the desk. He dropped the Cloak as he entered and draped it over one of the students' desks.

"Hello, Harry," she began to smile, and then she straightened her face. "Come have a seat." She pointed to the chair in front of her.

Harry sat down in front of her, resting his arms on the wooden arms of the chair.

"I'm glad you could come," Madame Moretta said, her eyes glittering in the lamplight. "Are you ready?"

"Sure," Harry said, trying not to look nervous.

"Good," the teacher nodded. "Very good. Let me just light these candles."

She took out her wand and tapped the top of one candle. The wick flared up into flames.

Harry thought he felt something in the room - something real and alive and hungry. But nothing happened.

She tapped the other candle, and it burst into flames as well.

Harry looked at her for a moment, barely breathing. And then he felt the room turn cold right before everything turned pitch black.

He yelled, but the darkness seemed to swallow his voice, and he felt nothing but icy fear clutching at him. He tried to scramble back, but his arms were glued to the wooden arms of the chair. He couldn't move, and it was getting colder and darker.

"Help?" he called. "Is anyone there?"

Something slithered by his foot. He tried to pull his feet up, but they were stuck to the ground, and he had no control over his body except his screaming.

The thing slithered near his leg, and Harry knew it was a snake. He tried to speak to it in Parselmouth, but he couldn't get the right words out.

The snake was now over his lap. It was curling closer and closer to his chest, its huge head near his heart. Harry tried to turn his head away, wishing he could fling the huge creature off.

Then suddenly it slipped off, but before Harry could breathe a sigh of relief, a small gray light rose out of the darkness. Harry watched the light. It wasn't comforting - somehow the light seemed cold and dirty, and Harry wished it wouldn't come near him.

And then he saw Voldemort.

The man was standing there in green robes, watching him with red eyes.

Harry struggled against the chair, but he couldn't move.

The Dark Lord was coming closer and closer, a look of cruel pleasure on his face.

"What have we here?" Voldemort smiled. "A little boy, caught in a chair? How very awful - completely at my mercy."

Voldemort reached out with one claw-like hand. Harry strained to turn away, to not let that hand touch him.

"There, there," Voldemort hissed. "Calm down, calm, calm."

He put on hand on Harry's neck. The hand was cold, but Harry swore it burned white hot, and he hissed with pain.

"There, there," Voldemort said again. "Stay calm." He smoothed Harry's hair, brushing back his fringe with his burning thumbs. "No good screaming - no one can hear you."

"Get away from me," Harry tried to twist his head free.

"Oh, dear, sweet boy," Voldemort bend until Harry could see his red eyes, could smell his breath full of death, "I'm not going to kill you right away. Your friends - yes, they will die. But you, you will be my pet. After, of course, I cut out your tongue and break your legs so you have to crawl on your hands to follow me."

Harry twisted violently, his skin burning.

"But I'll be lenient," Voldemort whispered into his ear, so close Harry could feel his foul breath ruffling his hair. "You can choose which friends I kill right off and which I torture for a few months. But I won't cut your ears off, because I want you to hear their screaming."

Harry felt like he was on fire. With a hoarse cry, he wrenched free of the chair and fell past Voldemort onto the floor.

"Oh, good," the man laughed. "I do like a fighting opponent. So much more fun to beat and humiliate."

Harry jumped to his feet and reached into his pocket for his wand. It wasn't there. Desperately, he began patting his clothes for the wand.

Voldemort shouted out a laugh, his evil voice filled the darkness. "Poor stupid boy, comes to fight me without a weapon."

Harry wanted to step back, but he summoned all his courage and stepped forward. "Didn't you know? I am the weapon."

It sounded completely stupid; Harry realized that as soon as the words left his lips. But they infuriated Voldemort.

"Arrogant brat, I'll kill you right here."

"Try!" Harry challenged, wishing he sounded braver than he did. "I'll tear you apart with my hands. I'm not scared of you."

"Stupid, stupid boy!" Voldemort snarled, his eyes flashing with malice. "You have no one - no parents, no godfather, just a foolish old man who totters with a cane."

"Oh," Harry broke into a painful grin, "don't you know? I have someone else on my side. Someone who would fight for me to his dying breath."

"Who?" Voldemort demanded fiercely. "Who is he?"

"Don't you wish you knew?" Harry sneered.

Voldemort vanished along with the darkness. Harry felt the chair beneath him, and he opened his eyes to find himself back in the classroom.

Moretta was seating in front of him. Her dark hair lay around her face in tangles, and she was pale and breathing hard.

"What - what was that?" Harry panted, shaking all over

She said nothing, just kept staring at him. The candles in front of her had burnt down to nothing; even the black wax was gone.

"I saw Voldemort," Harry gasped. "He was threatening me. He was going to kill me. Was that real? Was it a vision?"

"I don't know," Moretta finally stammered. "But you passed . . . you passed."

"This was a test," Harry said sharply.

"Of course, you must be ready."

Harry thought he saw tears glisten in her eyes, but then she stood up and walked to the door. She opened it and held out for him, her face masked and devoid of emotion.

"You must go back to your dormitory. Say nothing of this. You must go back."

Harry stood up and headed for the door. He waited for her to say something else, but she shut the door behind him, closing him out in the hallway.

No question about it. He was telling Snape. He would have to word it careful so Snape didn't get suspicious, but there was not a chance in the world he wasn't telling Snape about seeing Voldemort.

Still shaking, Harry headed for the stairs. His legs trembled so badly he had to stop several times to calm himself down. He told himself it was just a vision, just a dream, but it had felt so real. He hated dreams that felt real.

He somehow made it to the tower. Once he got there, he realized he had left his Cloak behind, but he couldn't even think of going back for it. The portrait of the Fat Lady was open an inch or two, and Harry though he was lucky that he left the door open. If the Fat Lady saw him shaking so badly, she would call someone to come help him or order him to the hospital.

Harry crept into the Commons Room. He leaned forward, balancing his hands on his knees and concentrating on just breathing. In and out, in and out, in and out.

The fire suddenly flared to life.

Harry stumbled back with a half-cry, his heart rate spiking crazily. He fumbled for his wand, but his fingers could barely hold it out.

The room brightened with the glow of the fire, and Harry saw Snape sitting in a large red armchair.

"Back already?" Snape inquired politely. "I was sure you would be wandering much later than this. How nice of you to return before one o'clock. Any later and you might have been inconsiderate."

And then Voldemort was no longer Harry's greatest worry.