When Snape had threatened Harry with a summer filled with scrubbing cauldrons, he hadn’t been entirely truthful.

He’d neglected to mention de-sliming slugs, crushing beetles, chopping ginger roots, and Harry’s least favorite: separating puffer-fish parts - all tasks he’d been assigned in the course of the first thirty-six hours after his middle of the night escapade.

Of course, to Snape’s credit, he had given Harry quite a few breaks to eat, sleep, and “wander the house in an aimless adolescent waste of time and energy.” And to Harry’s credit, he hadn’t killed the greasy git.

Not that that was still out of the question, he fumed as he slammed his knife into a few unfortunate ginger roots.

Thankfully, Snape ignored him, busy as he was on the other side of the lab with what looked to be a fairly complicated potion. Harry liked to think Snape was ignoring him because he had a knife in his hands, but he supposed it would take more than a sixteen-year old with a potions instrument to worry the capable wizard.

He was midway through his next excessive swing of the knife when the loud pop of Dobby Apparating into the room caused him to jump, the knife barely missing his own fingers. That got his heart to beating, and for once it wasn’t out of anger.

He swung around, tempted to scold the house-elf, but biting his tongue when his curiosity won out. In the many hours Harry had spent in this lab over the past two days, Dobby hadn’t once entered unless called upon to do so by Snape. (Not that Harry blamed Dobby for not spending extra time in the loathsome man’s presence – even house-elves had to have standards.)

“Professor Dumbledore and the Order wizards is here, Professor Snape, sir,” Dobby began solemnly, intent on relaying his important message, “And they is wanting Professor Snape to come to the meeting, sir.”

Order meeting? Harry sat up straight, attention on Snape.

Snape had listened to Dobby’s announcement as if he had been expecting such a summons. “Very well,” he responded, turning down the heat on his cauldron and taking out his wand, “Tell the headmaster I will be along shortly.”

“You knew there was an Order meeting today?” Harry blurted out, unintentionally cutting off Dobby’s next words.  He was half put out and half excited at the prospect of there being people in the house he could actually stand to be around.

Snape barely spared Harry an uninterested glance before turning to nearly inaudibly incant a spell over his cauldron, which caused the potion to immediately stop bubbling. In fact, it stopped everything. The steam that was rising above it froze into place, ready to resume its ascent at a later wave of Snape’s wand.

Pretty nifty spell, that. Harry wished he knew it – it would have made Potions a lot easier over the past five years if he could have time-frozen his own brews while he figured out what in Merlin’s name he was supposed to do next.

But that was beside the point.

“When were you going to tell me?” And a more important question: “Did Dumbledore say I could go to the meeting?”

Snape turned to Harry now, finished with his potion freezing spells. Instead of answering, he crossed his arms and studied Harry from above his large hooked nose. Harry could tell the man was trying to look intimidating, and he was doing a spot on job of it, but honestly…after being in such close quarters with the professor – even at his uncommunicative best – Harry figured if the man was going to kill or maim him, he’d probably have done it by now.

“Well?” Harry pressed.

Snape sneered. “Well what, Mr. Potter? I fail to see how you would have received the impression that I would share with you every detail I know of the Order or its plans. Especially,” he stressed, “as you are not a member of said Order.”

“I should be!” Harry argued. “Just because Dumbledore –”

“Professor Dumbledore! And, again,” he bit out, “you will address me as sir or professor! Honestly, Potter. If you cannot respect those in positions of authority, how can you possibly expect to receive it in return?”

“I give respect where respect is due,” Harry countered, deliberately leaving off the sir. “And I do respect Dumbledore! I don’t have to say ‘professor’ to prove it!”

“Ah, yes. I suppose your respect for the headmaster is at the forefront of your mind every time you break another one of his rules?”

“I only break rules when I need to –”

“And I only divulge important information regarding the Order and its plans when I need to. The difference, Potter, is that I, unlike you, have the capability to judge the necessary circumstances accurately.”

Harry barely managed an enraged sputter before Snape interrupted yet again, “You, Mr. Potter, are a mere child. An arrogant, impertinent, spoil –” Snape broke off before he finished the word, though they both knew what he had been about to say.

But he couldn’t say that anymore, could he? And judging by the look on the professor’s face, Harry could guess that it hadn’t truly sunk in until just that moment that one of Snape’s ‘basic irrefutable facts about Harry Potter’ was, in fact, not true.

Harry shifted uncomfortably, suddenly ready to be done with the conversation.

“Respect, Potter,” Snape summed up, though he seemed to have lost his steam. “You might try it sometime.” And with that, he immediately made to leave the room, though he stopped before he’d taken two steps.

“Dobby,” Snape barked, in no pleasant mood, “Did I not tell you to inform the headmaster that I will be down shortly?”

Harry hadn’t even noticed that the house-elf was still there, but now he looked down to see Dobby’s wide eyes watching the two of them in rapt attention.

“Dobby is sorry, Professor Snape, sir! Dobby will punish himself most grievously for this!” With that, Dobby reached for the nearest cauldron stacked against the wall, beginning his familiar, “Bad Dobby! Ba –”

Harry rushed over to stop the house-elf from banging his head on the cauldron. “Er, Dobby, it’s okay…no need to punish yourself this time. Maybe you should just, um, go.”

“Dobby told Professor Snape his message, Harry Potter, sir. Dobby is not to leave until he has told Harry Potter his message as well!”

“A message for me?” Harry perked up. Maybe he would be summoned to the meeting after all…?

Dobby nodded furiously, ears flapping his enthusiasm. “Dobby is sent to inform Harry Potter that his Wheezy is here!”

Harry frowned. “My Wheez…?” And all at once, he felt a huge grin overtaking his face. “Ron? Ron is here? Where…downstairs?”

“That will be all, Dobby. You may go now,” Snape ordered before Dobby could answer, and the house-elf wasted no time Disapparating to safer quarters. “Clean your work area. Quickly,” the man ordered Harry and waited impatiently for his directions to be obeyed.

Harry was only too happy to comply, excited at the prospect of seeing his best friend after weeks of no contact other than through owl post. Even Snape’s impatient finger tapping couldn’t erase the smile on his face.

He was not disappointed a few minutes later when, upon descending the stairs to the hallway, the air was knocked out of him by a fierce hug, not from the friend he’d been expecting, but by a smaller, bushy-haired witch.

“Hermione! What’re you doing here?”

Hermione backed up long enough to grab his arm and haul him up the stairs toward his bedroom. He chanced a last glance toward the direction of the kitchen, where he saw Snape’s dark form retreating.

Hermione didn’t say a word until she’d pulled him all the way into his bedroom and shut the door.

Ron’s freckled face grinned at him from atop his bed. “I told her not to attack you this time, mate. How’d she do?”

“Ronald! We’ve more important matters to discuss!” Hermione waved a folded piece of parchment in breathless excitement. “Your O.W.L. results have arrived!”

Harry laughed, relieved to finally see his friends again. He eagerly reached for the parchment, settling himself onto a corner of his bed to view his results. It was odd, though, that there was no envelope. He looked up, unspoken question on his face.

Ron and Hermione, both sitting on the bed now as well, each had the grace to look a bit abashed.

“We didn’t want to pry, Harry, really,” Hermione rushed to explain, “but…well, Professor Dumbledore had your correspondence from the school sent to Mr. and Mrs. Weasley this summer. He asked them to pick up your school supplies for next year from Diagon Alley, see…and they couldn’t know what books to purchase without knowing what marks you received…” She looked as if she were bracing herself for an outburst similar to their first meeting last summer.

It was that, perhaps, that made Harry not at all angry at not being the first to open his own mail. Anyway, he didn’t know how long Ron and Hermione were going to be able to stay. He wasn’t all that sure he wanted to pass the short time arguing with them.

He had Snape for that.

He hurriedly unfolded the parchment to see his results. All in all, they weren’t as bad as he had feared. He’d failed his Divination and History of Magic exams, which wasn’t at all surprising. He’d also gotten an ‘Acceptable’ in Astronomy. But he’d received an ‘Exceeds Expectations’ in pretty much everything else, except for Defense Against the Dark Arts, in which he had received an ‘Outstanding’!

It was enough to make him laugh in relief…until it sunk in that he hadn’t received the needed grade in Potions to continue on in Snape’s Advanced Potions class. And if he didn’t continue in that class, he had no hope of being accepted into the Auror program.

His laughter died on his lips, a disappointed feeling settling in the pit of his stomach. He’d already figured he wouldn’t get a high enough mark, but still…actually seeing it written out in front of him, he felt like he was physically watching his Auror dreams go up in smoke.

“What’d the two of you get in Potions?” he asked, needing to know.

“Acceptable,” said Ron, at the same time as Hermione predictably said, “Outstanding.”

“Oh.” Well, at least he and Ron could sit this one out together. He folded up his results, firmly pushing his disappointment aside as Hermione filled up the silence.

“Here is the book list from Hogwarts. Ron and I brought your schoolbooks up so you can get a start on studying for next year. There’s Charms, Transfiguration, Defense, and Herbology. To tell the truth, Mrs. Weasley and I weren’t all that certain that you intended to continue on with Herbology, but we took a chance…oh, and I told her she might want to wait on Care of Magical Creatures, as I wasn’t sure you would want to continue with that class.” She looked a little ashamed at not thinking he’d jump at the chance to attend Hagrid’s class…not that she was wrong, Harry thought. “Astronomy…now, that was an option, though considering the lack of a high passing mark, I wondered if Professor Sinistra might –”

“Hermione!” Harry interrupted her thoughtful monologue, but he softened his voice at knowing she’d put so much thought into advising Mrs. Weasley on his class preferences. “Thanks, Hermione. I…I can’t wait to look at my books.”

Ron’s cough sounded suspiciously like a disguised snort, and Harry avoided his friend’s eyes lest he lose control of the earnest expression he had donned for Hermione’s benefit.

Hermione beamed. “You’re welcome, Harry!”

“Now that we’ve got that settled,” Ron said before Hermione could steer the conversation toward academics again, “we’re only allowed to visit until the Order meeting’s done, and we’ve lots to fill you in on.”

Finally! Harry leaned forward eagerly. “Is there more news on Voldemort? His Death Eaters? What is the Order doing to fight? Is the Ministry doing anything now?”

“They’re not doing enough, that’s for sure!” Hermione broke in heatedly.

“We don’t know a lot,” Ron said. “Just bits and pieces we’ve been able to overhear from conversations around my house. Sometimes it’s a right good thing it’s so small, really. That, and Fred and George are in the Order now, so they’re happy to drop hints, even if they’ve been warned against actually telling us anything.”

“Wait. So…Hermione’s been staying with your family, then?”

“Not all summer,” Hermione explained. “Just a day here and there. My parents haven’t seen me much the last couple summers, and after the school informed them of the growing threat with Voldemort, they were quite insistent we have more time as a family this year.”

“Oh. Yeah, that makes sense.” Harry hadn’t given a great deal of thought to how the Muggle-born students’ families might be handling the coming war, especially as his own Muggle relatives didn’t really care one way or another if he lived or died. It must be scary, he realized, to know you’re in danger and not to truly be a part of the world that presents that danger. And then to know that at the end of summer, you’re sending your kid right back into that world…

Ron was already talking. “So anyway, we figure you probably didn’t hear about Azkaban.”

“Azkaban?” Harry jerked himself out of his meandering thoughts. Lucius Malfoy. “Was there a breakout?” He asked the question, already knowing the answer.

A nod.

“Why wasn’t it in the papers?” he demanded. He hadn’t gotten his hands on any newspapers since he’d been confined to Grimmauld Place, but he’d received a few issues of the Quibbler and the Daily Prophet at the Dursleys, and he hadn’t read any such thing. In fact, he hadn’t really read anything that pointed to Death Eater activity – just article on top of article about how it was a sure thing Voldemort was back and lists of how people needed to be safe and prepared for the coming war. But there was nothing actually about the coming war. It was downright maddening.

“Oh, it was in the paper, alright,” Hermione gave an exasperated sigh, then tossed Harry a copy of the Daily Prophet, opened to the next to last page.

Harry scanned the page, then looked up, confused. “What does ‘single white witch looking for cat-loving wizard’ have to do with Azkaban?”

“The opposite side, Harry! Lower left corner. See? There – small article on the bottom.”

Small was an understatement, Harry thought as he squinted to read the tiny lettering.

Wizarding Prison Undergoes Reconstruction

Azkaban, the wizarding world’s most secure prison, will be closed to visitors, including family members of prisoners, in the coming months, as security measures are scheduled to be revised and reconsidered in light of the upcoming war. “There is nothing to be concerned about. Absolutely nothing,” the Minister of Magic reassured the public in an exclusive interview with the Daily Prophet. “The safety of the wizarding world is our topmost concern!”

Azkaban Prison is expected to reopen by the end of the year, under improved management and with vastly superior security measures.

Harry looked up from the brief article, confused. “That’s it? There’s nothing about a breakout in here. Not even a hint.”

“Precisely,” Hermione sniffed. “They can’t deny Voldemort’s returned, so now they’re covering up how bad it really is with reassurances about how safe we all are with the Ministry looking out for us!”

“Trying to avoid mass hysteria, is how my mum put it,” Ron put in, glancing sideways at Hermione.

“Yes, and that will only cause people to become complacent about the war.” Hermione added. “Revised security measures, my foot! The reason they need to be revised is that most of their prisoners have escaped under the current ones! And they need to keep visitors away so that no one finds out. It gives them time to try to round up the escapees quietly, see!”

“What do they mean by ‘improved management’?” Harry asked, re-reading the article.

Ron answered this one. “Dementors have left. All of ‘em, gone to join Voldemort. It’s how the escape happened in the first place.”

That made Harry’s blood boil. “Why didn’t they remove the dementors from Azkaban the minute they realized Voldemort was back?” he roared.

Fortunately, his friends weren’t shocked at his anger, as they looked about as angry with the Ministry as he was. Especially Hermione.

“Guess the Minister got a little sidetracked, what with trying to keep his job and all,” Ron answered dryly.

“That’s not all the news we have, Harry,” Hermione rushed past the topic of Azkaban as the sounds of movement came from downstairs. Apparently the Order didn’t intend to meet for very long today. “But we also wanted to know how you’re doing. Professor Dumbledore told Ron’s parents you would be staying here…with, um, Professor Snape.” She ended on a note of incredulity, though Harry guessed that seeing him come down the stairs earlier with Snape had convinced her it was actually true.

“Yeah,” Harry groused, not bothering to hide his dislike of the situation. “Just me and good ol’ Snape. And a million and one chores involving disgusting potions ingredients.”

Hermione put her hand on Harry’s arm in sympathy, though Ron was a little less subtle. “What is Dumbledore thinking? Snape hates you! I’ll probably never see you alive agai–”

“I’m sure the headmaster has your best interests in mind, Harry,” Hermione interrupted calmly, shooting Ron a glare. “Professor Snape is in the Order, after all. And you’re way too important to the headmaster for him to leave you with someone who couldn’t properly protect you.”

“Yeah, but who’s gonna protect him from Sna – ow!” Ron rubbed his arm where Hermione had just swatted him.

“How – how are you doing with, um, everything else, Harry?” she asked hesitantly, leaving both hands within aiming distance of Ron.

It wasn’t hard for Harry to figure what she was getting at with the overly concerned look she was directing his way.

“I’m fine,” he answered immediately, following it up with an insistent, “Really. I’m fine, Hermione,” when she looked about ready to press him again. He really wasn’t in the mood to discuss his mourning for Sirius right then. Or ever, really. Rehashing things wouldn’t change how they’d played out.

“I…uh, I wanted to talk to you, though,” he segued, knowing it would make her forget all about Sirius for the time being, “about…about what Dumbledore told me at the end of the year. About the prophecy.”

Sure enough, both his friends sat up straight, waiting in attentive silence for him to continue.

He’d thought about this, too, during his stay at the Dursleys…mostly when trying to avoid thinking about Sirius. Dumbledore hadn’t outright said he couldn’t tell his friends about the prophecy, and somehow he didn’t think the headmaster would mind. Harry needed his friends, after all, and he couldn’t imagine going through an entire school year keeping something like this from them.

“Well, see…the prophecy that was destroyed in the Ministry…it was made to Dumbledore.”

Hermione released a long breath. “He told you the prophecy, Harry? Then…you know what it said?”

Harry nodded, and both of his friends waited with bated breath.

“The prophecy said…I’m going to have to kill Voldemort. Personally. Or he’s going to have to kill me.”

Both of his friends wore identical faces of shock.

“Harry...oh, Harry,” Hermione breathed. “How…how do know that? What did it say exactly?”

Harry quoted the prophecy, line for line, just how he’d played it through his mind countless times since Dumbledore had revealed it to him.

Silence covered the room, broken only by Ron’s muttered “Blimey.”

“Yeah,” answered Harry.

Unfortunately, what more they had to say on the topic would have to wait, for just then a knock sounded on Harry’s bedroom door, followed by Mrs. Weasley’s head poking into the room.

He no more heard a “Harry, dear!” than he was engulfed in Mrs. Weasley’s maternal hug. “How have you been?” She held him at arm’s length, not waiting for a reply before she clucked, “Too skinny, my dear, too skinny indeed. Well, we’ll have none of that. Come now, you three! The Order meeting is over, and we’ve plenty of food for the eating!”

With that, the three teenagers were ushered down the stairs and into the kitchen, where most of the Order was still milling about, some involved in serious conversations, some visiting jovially.

“Harry!” Fred called out, he and George coming across the room to greet him, followed soon by Remus, Tonks, and several other familiar faces.

Harry couldn’t help but let go of his serious mood, as the sights and sounds of happy and familiar people surrounded him. This, he thought well into the consumption of his dinner, and looking around at the smiling faces laughing with him…this is what summer should feel like.

But the dinner hour passed all too quickly, and before he knew it, he was saying his good-byes:

“Yes, Hermione, I promise to write.”

“Yes, I swear I’ll eat five meals a day, Mrs. Weasley!”

“Yes, Ron, you can have my broom if…you know…”

He thought better than to interrupt Hermione’s fresh round of Ron-scolding, and then before he knew it, he was alone.

But, somehow, having shared a part of his burden with his friends, he didn’t feel so alone just now.

He trudged back up to the potions laboratory, where he knew Snape would be waiting for him to finish cutting up the ginger roots. Only, this time as he approached his dreaded chore, he did so with a smile on his face.

Yeah, he wasn’t alone.

Every now and then, he thought, it was nice to be reminded.