Harry never managed to go back to sleep, after the dream.

Once he had showered and stripped the sweat-damp sheets off his bed, he was so wide awake he thought he could feel his bones vibrating. Nothing he did dragged his attention away from the dream, the prophecy, and Snape's revelations, no matter how hard he tried to distract himself.

He had taken out the book, the bottle with the memory, and the golden snitch, and had lined them up on his desk where the light was best, but looking at them turned out to be just another exercise in almost exploding from frustration.

The book was just a book of stories, and he couldn't concentrate to read them, when they didn't seem to have anything to do with anything. He supposed that if there was some important meaning, then there was a reason Dumbledore had left it to Hermione rather than to Harry. He had to get the book into her hands, somehow, but he could see no way of doing it without risking revealing that he had stolen it out of Snape's box, or risking his disguise being compromised. He couldn't mail it, especially after he had told Lupin that Lupin was welcome to read any mail Harry sent, and Hadrian couldn't give it to her, because no story would be good enough to get by Hermione if he did that.

Having the memory of the prophecy did him no good, either. He needed a Pensieve to view it, and the only one he knew of belonged to Dumbledore. It could very well still be in Snape's possession, or it had been returned to Dumbledore and... well, Harry didn't know what had become of Dumbledore's things, did he? For all he knew, the Ministry had swooped down and confiscated everything. At best, McGonagall would have moved it out of the Headmaster's office when she became Headmistress. Or, maybe, it was still there; a Pensieve did seem like a useful device to have when you had a lot to remember, didn't it? Even if it was still there, Harry couldn't see how he would get his hands on it. He wasn't going to go breaking into McGonagall's office.

The snitch was a headache.

It had writing on it, which he didn't think was normal for a snitch. It said, 'I open at the close', and he had absolutely no idea what that meant. If the snitch was supposed to open, he didn't see any way of opening it. It was as bad as the golden egg he'd had to open for the second task of the Triwizard Tournament, only this time he was on his own to figure it out.

He put everything away and forced himself to sit down instead of pacing.

The dream wasn't helpful. He still didn't know the parts of the prophecy he had missed hearing, and he knew Snape wasn't Voldemort's loyal servant, but he supposed he could see where all the imagery in the dream had come from. The wand that didn't work; the rebirth of Voldemort using an ancient power that in his dream had been symbolized by the Philosopher's Stone; Dumbledore's instructions for Snape, because Harry had never before felt so betrayed, even when he found out about Wormtail and the broken Fidelius; the Killing Curse because Harry might have to die...

He shook his head furiously, trying to force away that insidious thought.

Snape and Lupin were so sure Dumbledore had taken care of everything, but Dumbledore's message to Harry had said otherwise, hadn't it? If Harry couldn't make them believe him, then he was on his own... again.

His thoughts kept leaping around wildly from one idea to another, listing all the things he would have to do. He had to get his hands on a Pensieve and view the memory. He had to start researching prophecies, because there could be information out there that could help him figure out what Trelawney had said. He needed to open the snitch, which might contain more instructions from Dumbledore, telling him what he must do. Dumbledore couldn't have just left him to figure everything out on his own; he couldn't have had that much faith in Harry after all the times Harry had messed up over his years at Hogwarts. He needed to get Hermione involved, because she was the one Dumbledore had left the book for. He needed...

He needed to put Snape's words out of his mind, that's what he really needed.

At dawn, Harry uncurled himself from the chair to open the door. He knew it was Snape, coming to check on his hand, and he just wanted to get it over with as quickly as possible.

It wasn't Snape. It was Lupin.

"I don't want to talk about it," Harry said preemptively, because Lupin had that look on his face that told him he wanted to talk.

Lupin sighed. "I asked him not to tell you. Maybe I should have told him the opposite, instead. Well, it's done and if you decide you do want to talk, you know where to find me. Let me see your hand."

Harry held out his hand, and Lupin removed both the charm and the bandages with a wave of his wand.

There was no trace of the scar, and Harry's skin was smooth and its usual color.

"You look exhausted," Lupin said, pocketing his wand. "Did you sleep at all?"

"No," Harry said, with as much irritation in his tone as he thought he might get away with.

"I am sorry," Lupin said. "Would you like me to excuse you from Neville's tea this afternoon?"

Harry shook his head. He had forgotten all about it. "No."

"All right," Lupin said with another sigh, opening the door to let himself out. "See you at breakfast, Hadrian."

Harry waited until the door shut behind Lupin, and then went back to his chair and resumed staring at the wall.

He dragged himself to breakfast.

Not even the map helped, because Snape must have been right in telling him that even with the map he still needed to focus on where he wanted to go. His brain was so sluggish he couldn't concentrate. The misdirection spells sent him on a long loop, past the unfinished staircase, until finally he ended up at the tapestry that hid the passageway to the kitchens.

He wasn't late, though he was the last to arrive and had to take the only available seat, next to Snape.

"Good morning, Hadrian," Snape said, giving him a long, penetrating look. "Did you sleep well?"

Harry shook his head, not trusting his voice.

"I'm sorry to hear that. We will be working on medicinal potions today, and I plan to make a fresh batch of Dreamless Sleep. Perhaps that will help."

Harry thought the only thing that would help at this point would be a nice tall glass of Draught of Living Death, but he sipped his pumpkin juice and kept that to himself.

"Do you need anything, Molly?" Snape asked, giving Harry a nasty look before turning away.

"Just calming draughts," Mrs. Weasley said. "We're going through them rather quickly these days, aren't we?"

"Yes," Snape agreed. "Fortunately they are mild and non-addictive."

Harry was too tired and in too much of a bad mood to pay attention to anything around him. He shoved food in his mouth and just wished breakfast were over with. He didn't want to help Snape in the lab, either, and he was trying to convince himself that he wouldn't be asked.

"Come, Hadrian," Snape said as soon as the empty plates had been cleared. "Draco, you too. I've been allowing myself to get distracted from what needs to be done, and now I could use some extra pairs of hands."

"My boys will be working in the hospital wing again, of course," Mrs. Weasley said, to Lupin. "I gave them a long talking-to this morning and I'm sure they will try harder to behave from now on. So --" She fixed the twins with a rather threatening look. "It's back to the hospital wing and no breaks until lunch. Get moving, you two." She spied Ron, who was heading for the doors with Hermione, Luna, and Ginny. "Ron, where do you think you're going?"

Ron's shoulders drooped. "To the hospital wing, Mum."

"Darn right," Mrs. Weasley said with a sharp nod. "And I'm coming in there just as soon as I take the girls and Neville upstairs."

Harry, not sure if he felt more sorry for Ron and Fred and George, or for himself, trudged after Snape and Malfoy, hoping the whole way to the dungeon stairwell that Lupin would call out and tell Snape he wanted Hadrian's help in his office again.

He reckoned he should have been nicer to Lupin earlier, because Lupin headed upstairs without even looking Harry's way.

"Don't dawdle," Snape said, pausing at the top of the stairs and turning to look at Harry. "I'm sorry you didn't get enough sleep, but I do have quite a lot to do and I need help rather than hindrance."

Harry walked a little faster, but a rebellious part of him was already planning to not speak one single word to Snape, if he could at all help it.

"In here" Snape directed, waving his wand to light the torches in the largest potions classroom. "We're working here rather than in my lab because we need the space. "Now, bring all the small and medium cauldrons from the cupboards, and set them out on the tables, about two feet apart."

Harry followed Malfoy into the cupboard, where dozens of cauldrons were stacked on the floor and stored on shelves all along one wall.

"I'm sorry about your mother," Malfoy said, making Harry jump. "Lupin said that's why you missed dinner yesterday."

Harry felt himself reddening. So Lupin had told the whole castle that tale. "Yes... well..."

Malfoy shrugged. "I'm just sorry, that's all. You don't have to talk about it."

Harry nodded and quickly walked into the far end of the cupboard, gathering up all the smaller cauldrons he saw and pretending Malfoy wasn't even there.

"Now clean them," Snape said as soon as they had set out the cauldrons. "No, Draco, with a rag and water, not your wand. You've been my student long enough to know I don't believe in taking shortcuts that can affect potion quality."

Malfoy put his wand away with a slightly sour expression.

Harry went and got the rags and a small bucket of water.

"Here," he said, dropping some rags in front of Malfoy. "I got too many."

"Thanks," Malfoy said. Then he took Harry's bucket, too, and went off to the other end of the room, where he started wiping down the first row of cauldrons.

Harry gritted his teeth and went to get himself another bucket.

In spite of his bad mood, he couldn't help being slightly impressed at the ease with which Snape managed the cauldrons. He filled them and set them to boil over low flames just as fast as Harry and Malfoy could clean them. Regardless of his supposed distaste for foolish wand-waving, Snape had ingredients floating through the air, and a knife was chopping something over at a cutting board in the corner, all by itself. Granted, all of these potions were simple, and Snape must have made them countless times for Madam Pomfrey's stocks, but still. Harry supposed he sometimes forgot that even if Snape was a terrible teacher, he clearly was very good at making potions.

"Stop standing around with your mouth open and go peel some shrivelfigs," Snape said, stepping around Harry to reach the last row of cauldrons behind him.

Harry, remembering just in time that he was not going to speak to Snape, closed his mouth with a painful snap and went over to where Malfoy was already busy preparing ingredients.

"What are you so huffy about?" Malfoy asked, frowning at him. "And you're butchering that shrivelfig."

"Leave me alone," Harry muttered.

"Suit yourself," Malfoy said, his tone going icy. "I was just trying to be nice."

They chopped and peeled and diced in silence, filling bowls full of various ingredients. As quickly as they did, Snape emptied them into the cauldrons, which were starting to fill the near-silent classroom with popping, sizzling, and fizzing sounds. Harry, to his surprise, found that he could follow the recipes just by looking at what Snape was putting in each cauldron. He knew, for instance, that the cauldrons on his left had calming draught, even though his only clue was that Snape added extra water after the cauldrons had been boiling for a while.

"Sorry," he said grudgingly to Malfoy, after about half an hour. "I'm in a rotten mood, but I shouldn't have taken it out on you."

Malfoy shrugged. "Maybe it's contagious."

"What is?" Harry asked, frowning at him.

"Your rotten mood," Malfoy said. "Go on, find someone who feels bright and cheery."

Harry sighed and went back to chopping Valerian sprigs.

"We're done for the morning," Snape said, a while later. He had bottled some of the potions, but most of the cauldrons were covered and set to simmer. "Go on and wash up."

Harry, who was over at the sink scrubbing some of the cauldrons Snape had emptied, took longer to finish up than Malfoy did.

Tossing the rag he had been cleaning tables with into the sink, Malfoy called, "See you, Hadrian," over his shoulder and didn't wait for him.

Since they weren't going the same way, Harry hadn't been expecting him to wait, but he was annoyed anyway, since it left him alone with Snape. He kept his back turned, wringing out the rags and hanging them up to dry on the hooks above the sink.

"You don't need to do that," Snape said. A spell flitted by Harry's shoulder and the rags hissed and steamed, all the moisture escaping. "I only made you clean without magic to save us the need to explain to Draco why you can't."

Harry supposed he should have guessed that. Years of being made to scrub by hand in Snape's detentions hadn't exactly taught him to expect Snape to have a good reason, other than wanting to make things harder.

"Here," Snape said, setting a box down on the counter next to Harry's elbow, as if Harry's turned back didn't bother him in the least. "Since you seem so determined to maintain your silence, I have relieved you of the need to come to my quarters to find a gift for Longbottom. This book should do. Write something inside the cover. I assume you can manage that much."

Harry nodded stiffly.

"There are photographs in the box. I haven't looked at them and don't intend to. If you find any that are suitable, give them to Lupin and he will make sure Longbottom gets them."

Harry, remembering that Snape was going to let him look through old Slug Club photos, almost asked if he should give the rest back to Snape, but his determination to not speak won out long enough for him to think of something. If there were any pictures of Lily -- Snape had told him that she had been in the Slug Club, too, after all -- he was not giving them back. He would find some place to hide them, and when he got his album back, he would put them in there, where they belonged. They didn't belong with Snape, in some dusty box Snape couldn't even be bothered to sort through.

He nodded again.

Snape made an irritated noise and stalked out of the room, snuffing out the torches and leaving Harry standing in the darkness.

Harry unpacked the box carefully onto his bed.

He set aside a book called An Illustrated Encyclopedia of Rare, Endangered, and Extinct Magical Herbs.

There was a layer of bright wrapping paper and rolls of ribbon, all of which he set on top of the book.

Finally, he carefully removed a bundle of photographs, tied together with string. It was hard to tell how many there were; they had been printed on thick paper, which was now faded and yellowed.

He undid the knotted string, struggling with the frayed ends.

The top photograph almost crumbled in his hands, but once he peeled it off the next one, he was pleasantly surprised to find that the rest didn't look any worse than the photos he had in his album.

He knew he didn't have time to look at all of them just then, but he flipped through the first few, disappointed when he didn't recognize anyone. Most of the photographs featured a fat man who never seemed to be without a glass of wine in his hand, and Harry guessed he must be Slughorn.

Reluctant to leave the photos, he force himself to go wash and change his shirt, which was filthy after hours of scrubbing cauldrons and tables. When he was done, he picked up the book and took it over to his desk, purposely not looking at the photos again.

Dear Neville,

 

I'm glad to have met you and I hope you have a very happy birthday.

Your new friend,

Hadrian

He supposed that ought to do. It wasn't like Hadrian Snape would have a whole lot to say to Neville, after all.

He picked up a piece of parchment and wrote another note, this one from himself.

Dear Neville,

 

Happy birthday! I'm sorry I had to miss it, but I really hope you have a good time. I'll see all of you soon, I promise.

Did you know that your dad and my mum were in the Slug Club together? I'm still not sure what that was, but I have some photos and I thought maybe you haven't seen them.

Harry

He left the note in his desk drawer and went to lunch, hurrying as much as he could while also muttering directions under his breath, because he was nearly late.

To his horror, the first thing Snape did when Harry slid into a seat next to him was reach for Harry's face, a very disapproving look on his face.

Harry, frozen in outrage and aware that he couldn't put up a fight with everyone watching, had no choice but to allow Snape to grab him by the chin and hold his face steady while wiping a spot on his cheek with a damp napkin. He could hear snickers from the other end of the table.

"Next time, be presentable," Snape said under his breath.

Harry tried to catch Lupin's eyes, but Lupin seemed determined not to look at him.

"This came for you this morning, Mr. Malfoy," said McGonagall, holding up a thick envelope. "Unfortunately it set off alarms in the Owlery and I cannot allow you to open it without an adult present. If you would like to have some privacy, one of us could take you into the staff room."

Malfoy looked at the envelope doubtfully. "Is it from my father?"

"Yes."

"I thought I recognized the seal. Can't we just send it back?"

"That would not be wise, Draco," Snape said. "Whatever your father wants, he will not be satisfied until you have at least heard him out."

Malfoy sighed. "Fine. Just open it. I don't care."

McGonagall waved her wand and the envelope rose in the air. Harry couldn't help noticing that just about every adult had a wand out.

A letter unfolded itself from the envelope, and glowed briefly.

"There you are," McGonagall said, sending it toward Malfoy. "The letter is clean. It is this --" She flicked her wand and a long, silver chain began to snake its way out of the envelope. "-- that has a spell on it."

Malfoy grimaced as a large pendant slipped out, dangling at the end of the chain. One side was silver, while the other was made of green glass or crystal, and there was an ornate silver 'M' in its center. "It's probably a portkey. Don't touch it."

"I hardly need you to tell me to be wary of anything your father sends, Mr. Malfoy," McGonagall said, with a quelling look.

Malfoy glanced down at the letter. Harry was close enough that he could have looked, too, but he didn't.

"May I borrow a quill?" Malfoy asked Lupin. "Please?"

This time Harry did look, as Malfoy scrawled, 'No, thank you, father. -Draco Malfoy' at the bottom of the letter. The letter itself was quite long and Harry didn't think Malfoy could have read all of it.

"It is a portkey," Bill said. He had come over to stand behind McGonagall's chair, and the two of them were still examining the pendant. "But it will not activate until you wish it to do so. It appears to be an old heirloom locket. Many families had them, back in the day. House wards could be keyed to the locket, allowing the wearer to pass through without taking the wards down. There are better ways now, of course, but it doesn't surprise me that some of these may still be in use. Anyway, there are no curses on this. It should simply take you home."

Malfoy looked sour.

"Portkeys are rare and valuable these days," Snape said, giving Malfoy a meaningful look. "You should consider keeping it. The Manor may not be the last place you would want to end up, in certain circumstances."

Malfoy shrugged. "I don't want it, but if you think it's best..."

McGonagall held out the locket to him. "It is entirely your choice, Mr. Malfoy."

Malfoy shoved it into his pocket and went back to eating with a stormy expression.

Harry finished his meal in silence. He couldn't help wondering if Malfoy, too, sometimes felt that all he got were choices that weren't really choices at all.

Lunch was over and still no one spoke to him. Snape was preoccupied with Malfoy, which Harry was willing to bet gold had something to do with Lucius Malfoy's letter and the portkey. As soon as the plates were cleared, Snape had curled his arm around Malfoy's shoulders and the two of them started off toward the dungeons, Snape telling Malfoy something in a low voice and Malfoy not even trying to wriggle out of Snape's grasp.

Having had plenty of time to mull it over during his silent meal, Harry wondered just how smart it was to leave Malfoy with a portkey that could whisk him away from Hogwarts and back to his Death Eater father at any moment. Malfoy had been allowed to wander the castle freely ever since he arrived, and he knew the Weasleys and Hermione and Neville and Luna were staying there, as well as the fact that Harry Potter had visited. Which, logically, also meant Malfoy knew that Snape, Lupin, and others knew where Harry Potter was, and that they were keeping that knowledge from the Ministry. Malfoy might even know that the Weasleys were staying in the Room of Requirement. Malfoy, given what happened the previous year, even knew where that was.

In Harry's opinion, Malfoy was one big fat liability to them, and now all he had to do was whisper some magic word and he would be gone, free to tell his father all their secrets. What had Malfoy ever done to earn Snape's trust, and why didn't anyone else overrule Snape when it was clear Snape's bias was putting them all in danger?

Harry had been relieved when Snape had left without him, but when he tried to hang back to speak to Lupin, Lupin brushed him off and walked off with Charlie and Mr. Weasley, leaving Harry standing like a fool in the doorway.

"Move out of the way, snake!"

Someone -- it was Ron, of course -- shoved into him from behind.

Harry glared at Ron's retreating back. Mrs. Weasley was busy leading the rest of her charges up the staircase and hadn't seen.

He rubbed his bruised shoulder sullenly.

He started down the dungeon stairs, walking slowly because he didn't want to catch up to Snape and Malfoy.

It wasn't that he wanted Snape to pay him the kind of attention he was paying Malfoy. That was the last thing he wanted. If Snape ever tried to put his arm around Harry like he had done to Malfoy... well, Harry could still remember the horror he had felt when Snape had decided to pat him, that one time in the corridor outside Harry's room, seemingly out of nowhere. Why would he want a repeat of that?

It wasn't right, that's all. It wasn't fair.

Malfoy had parents. He had a mother who had sent him letters and packages full of sweets every day all through his first and second years at Hogwarts, and who wanted to keep him close and had talked his father out of sending him to far-away Durmstrang. Even if Malfoy was to be believed and she had let him be arrested a few years later, it still wasn't the same as growing up with no mother at all. He also had a father he could bully into buying him anything he wanted, from a new broom to a place on the Quidditch team. Until recently, Malfoy had never seemed too bothered that his father was a Death Eater, so he couldn't really be felt sorry for on that account.

Malfoy had a godfather who took him in at the drop of a hat, while Harry had only known his for a few years, and only got to live with him for half of a summer. He bet Malfoy had other relatives, too, who would take him in, while Harry's last chance at a real family, the Longbottoms, didn't even get the chance to let him know if they would have taken him and cared for him like their own son.

Harry didn't have Dumbledore anymore, and he was always doing something to upset Lupin, and he didn't even have the Weasleys, either. Not even Ron, his best friend ever since that day on Platform 9 and 3/4.

Harry didn't want Snape, but he somehow still managed to feel infuriated that Snape didn't want him, and feeling that way, especially after what Snape had told him the previous night, just wasn't right.

He had only just recalled that Snape wasn't simply Hadrian's father and might have been expected to treat Harry more decently while Harry was wearing Hadrian's face. No. Snape was one of the people Harry's parents -- or at least Harry's mum -- had trusted enough to write into their will. Snape, had Dumbledore not decided to place Harry with the Dursleys instead, would have been next in line to raise Harry.

Harry let out a shaky, angry breath that caught in his throat and filled his chest with painful pressure.

He didn't know if the Longbottoms would have really taken him in, or if they would have treated him better than the Dursleys had, but he had no reason to think that they wouldn't have.

He knew, just knew, that Snape never would have.

Snape had hated Harry from the moment the two had laid eyes on each other, back when Harry couldn't possibly have done anything to deserve it. He had told Harry he hated him for existing, because Harry reminded him of whatever awful thing Snape had done, which meant he had hated Harry from the day Harry had survived the Killing Curse while Lily hadn't. Maybe Snape had hated him from the moment Harry had been born, or maybe even before that. The way Snape's eyes glazed over when he spoke about Lily, Harry was almost ready to believe that Snape had been in love with her. He might have been getting ready for a lifetime of hating Harry before Harry was even conceived. Nothing was going to make Harry believe that Snape would have wanted to raise him, no matter what was written in the Potters' will. If he had been saddled with Harry, he might have treated Harry even worse than the Dursleys had.

And that, Harry convinced himself, was why seeing Malfoy walking off with Snape's arm around him was so infuriating.

Harry sorted the photographs into three stacks. The tallest by far had no one he recognized by face or name. Most photos were labeled in a cramped, spidery handwriting, but the writing had faded on many of them, and Harry didn't have time to decipher it.

There were four photos of Frank Longbottom. He didn't look like Neville -- Neville looked like his mother, Alice -- but the young Frank was tall and had a wide smile, and Harry found it easy to pick him out him among other students. In one picture, he was standing next to Slughorn, holding a matching glass with some drink that had a tiny paper umbrella stuck in it. There were Christmas decorations behind them, and they were wearing dress robes, so Harry supposed it was some sort of party.

Harry took the photos and his note and started to wrap them in red paper, but an idea popped into his head before he could tie the package. This gift would be coming from Harry himself, and as long as Lupin didn't look too closely...

Before he could think of any reason he shouldn't do it, Harry had his quill out and was writing, 'Hermione, Dumbledore left you this and I think it might be really important. Thanks, Harry' inside the cover of The Tales of Beedle the Bard. He didn't wait for the ink to completely dry, and shoved the book underneath the photos. Then he wrapped the whole thing up, tying the ribbon in a lopsided knot.

All he had to do now was get it to Lupin and hope that Lupin wouldn't unwrap the whole thing, or, if he did, that he wouldn't look very closely at the book. It wasn't as if Harry was sending something that sounded dangerous. It was just a storybook.

He didn't have time to look through the photos he wasn't planning to return to Snape. He carried them carefully to his dresser and put them in the bottom drawer, covering them with a jumper and a pile of socks.

There was one photo he had ripped into shreds the moment he laid eyes on it -- it was Bellatrix Lestrange, with wild curly hair and dark lipstick and evil eyes -- and he threw it into the fireplace.

The rest of them he put back in the box.

After washing up and putting on a clean shirt and one of the uncomfortable ties, he was as ready as he was ever going to be for Neville's party.

He picked up both his gifts, hiding the red-wrapped one in the box, and went off in search of Lupin.

Snape's office door was shut and there was no light coming from underneath, so Harry supposed Snape was lavishing comfort and attention on Malfoy somewhere else. Again, he tried hard to shove his feelings away. Malfoy was welcome to Snape's attention!

He stopped in front of Lupin's office a few minutes later, trying to compose himself. He was going to apologize to Lupin, because he hated not having Lupin to confide in. Lupin wasn't always very helpful, but he was all Harry had at the moment. He should have tried to hide his bad mood better that morning, especially since his bad mood hadn't been Lupin's fault.

Lupin opened the door while Harry was still standing there, trying to work himself up to knocking.

"Hello, Hadrian. Did you need something?"

"I..." Harry faltered. "I just came to return this."

He held out the box.

After a moment of studying him with a closed expression, Lupin took the box from him and stepped aside to let him come in.

Harry waited in silence until Lupin had warded the door.

"I'll make sure this gets back to Professor Snape," Lupin said, putting the box on his desk. He took Harry's gift out. "I'll send this along."

"If you want to read what I wrote," Harry said quickly, his heartbeat speeding up, "you can. I didn't do a very good job with the bow, anyway."

"Hmm," Lupin said, frowning at the package in his hand. "That's all right. It will do."

Harry relaxed slightly. Hopefully Lupin would trust that Harry wasn't trying to sneak anything past him, since he had offered to let him look.

"Are you feeling any better?" Lupin asked, his tone still chilly.

Harry shrugged. "I didn't like hearing he hated me just for being born."

Lupin stared at him, unblinkingly. "Is that what he said?"

"Well... not exactly," Harry said, trying not to scowl. There went Lupin, defending Snape again. "But he said I remind him of what he did to Lily and he can never get past it, just like he can't get past hating my dad and Sirius."

Lupin continued to stare at him.

"Fine," Harry said defensively. "He didn't say he hated me."

"But it is what you heard," Lupin said, still in a flat tone.

Harry didn't answer. The conversation was never going to go the way he wanted it to, and he should have just given Lupin Neville's gift and left.

"I didn't want him to tell you," Lupin said after a few uncomfortable moments. "So I suppose in a way this is my fault. Now that he has begun, I think he owes you the full story."

Harry frowned suspiciously at Lupin.

"Well?" Lupin said, raising one eyebrow. "Don't you think so? You always want to be told things. You can't expect to only hear things you like."

"I'm not sure," Harry said cautiously. Usually Lupin wasn't quite so heavy-handed when he tried to manipulate him. "I think I already heard plenty."

"Suit yourself," Lupin said. "But I'm not getting involved this time. I told him not to tell you; he did it anyway. Now the two of you can leave me out of it. I'm tired and I have things I need to get done."

Harry found himself unceremoniously ushered out of Lupin's office.

"The password to the Gryffindor common room is 'hippogriff'."

And Lupin shut the door without giving Harry a chance to say anything in reply.

Harry glared at the door, but he quickly wiped the expression off his face when he heard footsteps on the main staircase.

He found himself following Malfoy up, and of course as soon as Malfoy noticed him he stopped and waited for him to catch up.

"Of course it had to be in the lion's den," Malfoy said, rolling his eyes. "What were you seeing Lupin for?"

"Uh... I couldn't find Dad and I didn't know where the tea was being set up," Harry lied quickly. "I guessed it would be up there, but I didn't want to trudge all the way to the seventh floor and find out it wasn't, or that I couldn't get in because I didn't know the password."

"It's 'hippogriff'," Malfoy said. "And Professor Snape was in our common room -- why didn't you look for him there?"

Harry shrugged. "Dunno... I tried his room and his office, and then I thought of looking for Lupin."

At least Malfoy seemed to accept that. He eyed the green-wrapped package Harry was carrying. "What did you get him?"

"A book," Harry said tersely. "How was I supposed to know what he'd like? All I know is he likes plants. So I got him a book about plants."

"He'll like that," Malfoy said, nodding encouragingly. "Herbology used to be the only thing he was good at."

Harry looked at Malfoy sideways. "Used to be?"

"He's good at other things, too, now," Malfoy said generously. "Like defensive spells and stabbing things with swords."

Harry was too confused to think of anything to say to that. Fortunately, they had arrived at the Fat Lady's portrait, which was already wide open.

"Come in!" Hermione called from inside. "Welcome to Gryffindor!"

Malfoy snorted quietly under his breath. "Come on, Snape. Isn't this your first time in their common room?"

"It's..." Harry said, left behind in the corridor. "Hadrian..."

He was glad Malfoy had inadvertently reminded him that Hadrian had not yet been inside Gryffindor Tower. He made sure to crane his neck this way and that as he came in, even when he was being greeted by Hermione, Neville, and Ginny.

Luna was sitting with a quilt draped over her legs.

"Hi, Luna," Harry said quietly, smiling at her and earning himself a smile from both Ginny and Hermione.

Harry had to turn away, pretending to be interested in the knick-knacks displayed on the mantle, because of the lump that rose in his throat.

"Is she any better at all?" Malfoy was asking Hermione. "I haven't seen much change in her at meals."

Ron was sitting in one of the squashy armchairs, looking like a thundercloud. Harry quickly looked away from him.

"No, she isn't," Hermione said with a pained sigh. "Mrs. Weasley is threatening to keep her inside, because she thinks the cold made her worse. It didn't, though. She's just the same."

Fred and George were nowhere in sight.

There was a table covered in a tablecloth patterned in tiny Gryffindor crests, and several brightly-wrapped gifts and birthday cards were already on top of it, as well as a very large gift, wrapped in gold, underneath it. Harry followed Malfoy over to put his own gift on the table.

He caught sight of a familiar package, surprised that Lupin had somehow got it there already. The ribbon bow was just as crooked as before, and Harry felt reassured that his deception hadn't been discovered.

"You didn't need to bring anything," Neville said, his cheeks red. "I'm just happy you came."

Harry smiled. "Happy birthday. Thanks again for inviting me."

Harry tried not to look at Ron, who scowled at all of them from his chosen seat apart from them, while Hermione led them on a short tour of the common room. It was odd to be expected to walk around the familiar room like he was a stranger there.

"So," Harry said, because the tour was mostly for his benefit and he could tell he was expected to make some kind of comment. "Uh... are all the common rooms done in the House colors? Green for Slytherin --"

"Green and silver," Malfoy corrected, butting in.

"Right. And gold and red for Gryffindor?"

"Blue and bronze for Ravenclaw," Hermione said, nodding. "Yellow and black for Hufflepuff."

After the tour, they gathered around an oval table, where platters of sandwiches, biscuits, scones, tarts, cream puffs, and small bowls of ice-cream were waiting for them, along with tea. Ron was the last to join them.

To Harry's relief, his friends dominated the conversation, and he and Malfoy only had to say a few words.

"Open your presents now, Neville," Ginny said. "I want to see what that giant one is."

There was a chorus of agreement, and they moved to the two couches in front of the gift-laden table, Hermione leading Luna and helping her settle among the cushions. Ron, Harry noticed, went back to his chair, just as scowly as before.

"No, no," Ginny said, pushing Neville back down. "Birthday boy gets to sit and relax! That's the rule. I'll bring the gifts over to you."

She picked up a small blue box tied with a white ribbon. "From Mum," she announced, handing it to Neville.

"A rememberall!" Neville said a few moments later, when he had unwrapped it. "I had one of these, once. It... uh..." He glanced at Malfoy. "It never really worked right, after that."

There was a short silence. Everyone looked at Malfoy, who reddened.

Then Neville snorted and dissolved into laughter. "Do you remember how upset you were when you found out Harry was being rewarded instead of punished? We all thought you were going to just... burst!"

Harry tried to look blank, which was hard when his friends seemed to find Neville's retelling so funny.

"Next one!" Ginny said. "This says, 'From your friend, Hermione Granger'."

Hermione blushed a bit as the gift was handed to Neville.

Neville opened it, and examined the contents carefully. There were several scrolls of parchment, filled with small, neat writing.

Slowly, Neville smiled. "This is from Potent Plant Poisons, isn't it? I've never been able to check that one out."

"I remembered you wanted to look these plants up and couldn't get a professor to write you a pass to the Restricted Section."

"Thank you, Hermione," Neville said. He looked so pleased that Harry guessed Hermione's remembering was just as good as the copied book pages.

"Mine next," Ginny announced. It was a rectangular box, wrapped in plain brown paper, but tied with so many ribbons of different colors that it was a bit blinding.

Neville unwrapped it slowly. There was a wooden case, with a glass front, that Harry recognized as being the sort that could be found in the room housing trophies and awards. Harry had spent enough time polishing those things in Filch's detentions to know.

"Because," Ginny said, looking flustered, as Neville stared at it in silence, "you deserved a medal, Neville, you really did. Until they get their heads out of their arses and give you a real one --" She broke off with a little laugh. "They pulled that fang out of my jumper, caught on a zipper right over my heart... that's how close it was."

Neville and Ginny ended up hugging, and Harry got a good look at Ginny's gift.

Suspended inside the case was one of the D.A. galleons, spinning slowly in mid-air. At the bottom lay a strip of parchment with Neville's name written in shiny gold letters, and a large, deadly looking snake fang resting on a red velvet cushion. It was nowhere near as large as the ones that had filled the basilisk's mouth, but it was large enough to make Harry shiver involuntarily. He remembered Snape saying that a snake -- Voldemort's snake that was also a horcrux -- was killed at the Ministry of Magic. Was Ginny saying she had been attacked by it?

Ginny separated from Neville and looked at Harry and Malfoy wryly. "Boys, if you ever see me being attacked by a big snake, just use a giant sword to save me. Got that?"

Malfoy laughed uncomfortably. "I don't think the sword of Gryffindor is very likely to manifest itself to me, Weasley."

"You never know," Ginny said, shrugging. "Besides, isn't there a sword of Slytherin?"

"No," Malfoy said. "Not as far as I know. There's a skewer --" He raised his eyebrow at Hermione, who looked about to ask him what that was. "That's a kind of dagger. It's kept with the other Founder artifacts."

"Do you get attacked by snakes a lot?" Harry asked, hoping someone would tell him what had happened. He had been there; why didn't he already know?

"Yeah," Ginny said blithely. "Happens all the time. I'm a little encouraged that the snakes seem to be getting smaller, though. The time before it was a basilisk and it was about 50 feet long."

"You're having me on," Harry said.

Everyone stared at him.

"Er... no," Hermione said, quietly. "That did happen, three years ago. Harry killed the basilisk and saved Ginny's life."

"Oh," Harry said, swallowing. "A real basilisk. Don't those kill you just by looking at you?"

"They sure do," Ginny said. "But Fawkes poked out its eyes, so it couldn't. Well, here's another one, Neville. It's from Professor McGonagall."

"Bet it's my O.W.L. results," Neville groaned. "Maybe I shouldn't open it..."

It wasn't. It was a Transfiguration book.

"Probably because I didn't pass my Transfiguration O.W.L.," Neville said, groaning again.

"Don't be silly," said Hermione. "If you haven't passed, you won't be taking Transfiguration anymore, so what good is the book to you? Clearly, she wants you to get started studying so you can be ready for her N.E.W.T.s class."

Neville groaned even louder.

"Oh, shush," Hermione said, breaking into a smile. "You'll be fine."

"From Harry!" Ginny exclaimed, snatching Harry's gift from the table.

There was an instant silence as the gift was passed to Neville, who was biting his lip.

"Too bad he wasn't allowed to come," Hermione said. "I just hope he's safe."

"He said so, Hermione," Ginny said, patting her shoulder. "He said he was safe and not to worry."

"But you know how he is," Hermione said, sighing. "Would he tell us if he wasn't?"

Neville fidgeted with the ribbon, finally untying Harry's knot.

Harry watched, a little breathlessly, as Neville took out the note and read it, taking a long time considering how short it was. He took out the pictures and looked at them just as slowly.

Finally, he cleared his throat. "It's some photographs of my dad from when he was a student. I knew he was part of the Slug Club, because my Gran was always talking about it, and there's a photograph of him with Horace Slughorn that's kept above our main fireplace. I've never seen these, though."

Harry could see that Hermione was struggling to keep from asking questions. He guessed that she didn't know what the Slug Club was any more than Harry had until Snape had told him about it.

Everyone was very quiet, giving Neville space.

Neville set the photos aside with great care.

"There's a book, too," he said, clearing his throat again. "The Tales of Beedle the Bard. Hmm."

"You mean," Ginny said, "like Babbitty Rabbitty? Mum read that to me when I was really little."

Harry watched, this time really not daring to breathe, as Neville flipped it open and frowned.

"It's for you, Hermione."

"For... for me?" Hermione asked, taking the book with a puzzled expression. She read the inscription. A great whoosh of air escaped her mouth. "Oh, Harry, what did you get yourself into now?"

Nevertheless, she stuck the book into her pocket with a rather determined expression and exchanged a meaningful glance with Ginny and Neville.

"All right," Ginny said, shrugging. "We'll deal with whatever it is, right?"

"Right," Neville and Hermione echoed, though without much spirit.

Harry swallowed and almost wished he hadn't sent the book. If he could have figured it out himself, he wouldn't have saddled his friends with it.

"From Draco Malfoy," Ginny said, carrying Malfoy's gift over to the couch. "Something heavy and a bit rattly... and smells nice, too."

Neville unwrapped it quickly. "The Chocolate Cosmos!" He looked at Malfoy in surprise. "You saved the Chocolate Cosmos?"

"And I watered all the plants in Greenhouses One and Two with a plant-reviving potion," Malfoy said, rather loftily. "I watered those plants you re-potted, too, since you couldn't come out and do it yourself. They're growing new leaves already."

Neville blinked and stared at him. "You did all that for me?"

Malfoy reddened slightly. "Sure... why not?"

Neville smiled slowly. "That was really nice of you, Draco. Thank you."

Malfoy reddened some more and mumbled something unintelligible.

"Almost the last one," Ginny said, not letting another silence stretch. "From Hadrian Snape."

Harry decided this wasn't a good time to correct her on his name. It was a lost cause, anyway.

Neville read Harry's note and smiled. "I'm glad, too. And this is the nicest birthday I've had in a long time, because I almost never get to have friends over. That's the problem with having a summer birthday, I suppose." He looked the book over carefully. "I don't have this one, and I don't think the Hogwarts library does, either. I've read most of the Herbology books Hogwarts has, other than the ones in the Restricted Section. Thanks, Hadrian, I really like it."

"Let's open the big one," Ginny said, pushing away the table to reveal the giant gift. She picked up an envelope that had been stuck to the gold wrapping paper. "Read what it says, Neville. Maybe your Gran sent you your things?"

Neville shook his head like he doubted it, and tore the envelope open.

"Well?" Ginny prompted when Neville didn't share right away.

"It just says it's from Hogwarts staff," Neville said, looking at the card. "Something that arrived a few days ago. And it's for you, too, Hermione. Go ahead, Ginny, if you want to."

Ginny untied the ribbon, and the gold paper fell away.

"Oh! Our trunks!" Hermione leaped out of her seat and fell to her knees in front of her battered trunk. "My books!"

"I didn't think we'd get them back," Neville said, smiling at the back of Hermione's head. He stayed where he was. "What a lucky break that someone from our side found them."

"Aren't you upset they waited until now to give them back to you?" Harry asked. He would have been livid if he had thought his things were lost, and then found out someone had them the whole time and didn't bother to let him know.

"Of course not," Hermione said, sighing happily as she threw open the lid of her trunk. "I'm sure they had to be thoroughly checked for malicious spells, and that takes time. Anyone could have put just about anything in them."

"I wasn't expecting to get mine back at all, the way we had to leave them," Neville said. "It's a nice surprise."

Harry, feeling stupid for having said anything, stayed silent for the next half hour, while his friends talked around him.

The only two people equally as silent were Luna and Ron. Luna had the excuse of being ill, but Harry wondered why Ron had come at all, if he was just going to sit there and glower at everyone else.

"Is it four already?" Hermione said in dismay. "Ginny, do you think your mum might change her mind?"

Ginny shook her head with a grimace. "No, I doubt it."

"Change her mind about what?" Harry asked.

"We were supposed to get back by four, and we're late," Hermione explained. "Luna is still so unwell..." She motioned helplessly with her hands. "Well, look at her."

They all looked at Luna, who was sitting on the end of the couch exactly as Hermione had left her, staring vacantly into space.

"Professor Snape is going to help her," Neville said, his voice brittle. "I heard him tell Professor Lupin so."

There was a loud snort from Ron's direction.

"Or at least," Neville amended, his shoulders slumping, "he said he was going to do everything he could."

Ginny patted Neville on the arm. She may have been trying to smile encouragingly, but it didn't look very convincing.

"Hadrian and I are helping him with potions for the hospital wing," Malfoy said quietly. "Once those are done he'll have much more time to work on it. He's really good." Malfoy looked at Harry meaningfully. "He's really good, isn't he, Hadrian?"

"Sure," Harry said, a bit numbly. "Really good."

"Is that so?" Ron said nastily from the other side of the room. "Name one potion he's invented."

Harry waited for someone to say something, but no one spoke up.

"Can't, can you? All he's done is teach, and we all know how lousy he is at that."

"Oh, shut up, Ronald!" Hermione had sent a stinging hex in Ron's direction before anyone had time to see her take out her wand. "I don't know why you even came."

Ron, cradling his arm, stood up, drawing himself up to his full height. "I didn't want to come. You do whatever you like from now on, but leave me out of it."

They watched him stalk away, the portrait swinging open and shut.

"Oh, he's horrible," Hermione muttered. "I could just..."

"Hex him?" Malfoy suggested.

They laughed, but it was forced and uncomfortable.

"We'd better go," Ginny said, after another long silence. "I'm sorry about Ron... I'm so embarrassed."

"It's not your fault," Hermione said, sighing. "I always forget how stubborn he can be."

Ginny nodded grimly. "That's Ron, all right."

Malfoy pulled on Harry's sleeve.

"Thanks for coming," Neville said as they stood up. He was looking glum. "Thanks for the gifts."

Harry glanced back once, and saw that Hermione was still kneeling on the floor, holding a book in each hand. They were open and she was frowning in concentration. Harry squirmed in discomfort when he recognized the books as being Hadrian's gift to Neville and Tales of Beedle the Bard, and that Hermione was comparing the inscriptions inside their covers.

So, Hermione hadn't given up on Harry and Hadrian turning out to be the same person, after all. He hadn't really expected her to.

They walked silently down the main staircase.

"That Weasley..." Malfoy began somewhere near the third floor, apparently reaching the end of his ability to hold that thought in. "I wish Hermione would hex his mouth permanently shut."

Harry made a noise of vague agreement. It was bad enough to be on the receiving end of Ron's bad temper, without Malfoy harping on it.

"I thought that went rather well, don't you?" Malfoy went on. "Ginny Weasley isn't so bad, even."

"Is it true," Harry asked, carefully keeping his voice even, "that my dad hasn't invented any potions?"

"Well..." Malfoy hesitated. "I admit I've never thought about it before. I can't think of any, but maybe they're just not the ones we've studied. Besides, you don't have to invent new potions to be a great potioneer. Most people can't manage to brew a simple cold remedy, and your father brews insanely complicated potions like it's nothing. Did you know the Wolfsbane contains over three dozen ingredients, and some of them are so poisonous that just the fumes can kill you if you make a mistake during brewing?"

"But he didn't invent it, did he?" Harry pressed.

He wasn't even sure why it mattered to him. Maybe, after seeing Luna so silent, pale, and still, and after seeing the way Neville's eyes clouded when he looked at her, Harry just wanted to be able to believe that someone was capable of doing something to help.

"No," Malfoy admitted. "It was this guy named Damocles Belby, and he got an Order of Merlin for it. He's the chief potioneer for St. Mungo's Hospital, but last I heard, he either disappeared or was made to disappear. It was in the Daily Prophet the day before I was arrested."

"What about Slughorn? He was a Potions professor here, wasn't he? Did he invent things?"

Malfoy nodded. "Loads. There's a whole chapter devoted to his potions in one of our books."

Harry sighed.

Too bad neither Belby nor Slughorn were around to help. All they had was Snape.