Once Harry could force himself to move, he shoved open the office door and went in. He was aware, in a distant way, that he had no way of lighting his wand as Malfoy had, and so was walking into blackness. He couldn't bring himself to care at the moment.

Fortunately, just stepping over the threshold caused the sconces on the walls to light; one brightly, two in the faint and wavery way of magic that had faded over time, and three not at all except for a sputter of sparks. There was enough light to see by.

The office was larger than Snape's, or maybe only looked that way because it had been stripped to bare walls and the only furniture was the desk, pushed up against the far wall. The dust lay thick on top of it. There was nothing else.

"Empty, too?" Malfoy questioned from the doorway.

Harry spun around. "Yeah. Empty."

Malfoy leaned against the door frame, looking at him with eyes that reflected the light of the nearest sconce and made it hard to read his expression. "I shouldn't have said any of that. Lupin's probably just poisoned like you said. It's a much better explanation than what's been bantered about, and, anyway, the jinx is hardly more than a rumor, besides being broken now that the Dark Lord is gone for good."

Harry, instantly dismissing anything related to Voldemort -- he was certainly not about to tell Malfoy that Voldemort might not be gone -- latched onto the one piece of new information Malfoy had just provided.

"What's being bantered about, then?"

Malfoy's eyes glinted in a way Harry didn't like. Like Harry had fallen for a deliberate trap.

"I like Lupin," Harry said defensively. "And he makes my dad happy, I think." The words tasted sour in his mouth. He had no idea if it were true, but he knew he didn't like it one bit, even if he had been trying to accept it because he couldn't do anything about it. "I don't want him to die. Besides, no one should be talking behind his back."

Malfoy's eyebrows rose. "Then I'd best not tell you. It's not pleasant at all, what they're saying."

"Tell me," Harry said immediately, even though he knew that was exactly what Malfoy wanted.

"Well..." Malfoy said, drawing it out. "I told you he was with Black, before he got with your father. Black was Harry Potter's godfather and all of them were in the same Year at Hogwarts, but not the same House. Your father hated the lot of them; Black, Lupin, and Potter's father, who was called James Potter and was a terrible bully."

Harry resigned himself to listening to the story retold with Malfoy's special brand of nastiness, and gritted his teeth.

"When they learned Lupin was a werewolf, they managed to become Animagi," Malfoy continued. "That's a type of Transfiguration where you turn into an animal, and it's very advanced magic."

"What did they want to do that for?" Harry asked, thinking he should show some interest and appear as clueless as possible.

Malfoy shrugged. "I guess werewolves don't hurt Animagi, although that seems stupid, since werewolves will tear apart just about anything they come across, human or animal, so I don't see how a human in animal form would be any safer. Anyway, that's all beside the point. The important part is that Black turned himself into a big dog. It wouldn't have been important then, because a werewolf is twice the size of any dog, or more. Except, once the Wolfsbane was developed, werewolves who took it were much more likely to turn all the way into a wolf, instead of getting stuck halfway between human and wolf, like they mostly do usually."

Harry had not known that, but nodded.

"Werewolves get their traits from both humans and wolves, and supposedly once they have a mate they will die of lonesomeness if they're kept apart. It's not exactly a proven theory, because there aren't many werewolves that come across another one of their kind. It has to be two werewolves, see? And they have to mate while they're wolves, because in human form they're really not much different from anyone else."

"Black wasn't a werewolf," Harry said. He didn't like -- at all -- where he could see Malfoy going with this. "Was he?"

Malfoy shrugged again. "No. But he did turn into a big dog, like I said. If Lupin took the Wolfsbane, then they'd both have their human minds and --"

"That's disgusting," Harry said, his skin crawling. "People are actually saying this about Lupin?"

"I'm just telling you what I've heard," Malfoy said, putting up his hands defensively. "I did tell you it was unpleasant."

"I'm not listening to this." Harry stepped around Malfoy, out the door, and started off down the corridor. "Let's finish searching."

Malfoy didn't protest, as Harry had been expecting. He heard him start to follow.

After trying three doors that didn't open, they came to a fork in the corridor.

"That way's a dead end with two rooms. Do you want to split up?"

Harry nodded.

Malfoy headed down the narrower corridor, while Harry checked the two unused classrooms closest to him.

Searching the empty, dusty classrooms that clearly hadn't been used in decades judging by the rotting furniture and moldy walls, Harry tried to work out what Malfoy was up to. All he could think was that Malfoy had been baiting him, trying to see how he would react if the people Harry was closest to were maligned. Now that Malfoy was friendly with Hermione, Neville, and Luna, that left fewer targets. Harry had tried his hardest not to react when Malfoy had gone after Ron, earlier. Malfoy had gone for Lupin, Dumbledore, Hagrid, Sirius, and James, this time. Nearly all the adults he might have imagined Harry being compelled to defend. That was simply too many people to insult all at once if you weren't doing it on purpose, even if you were as much of a big-mouthed git as Malfoy.

Well, he wasn't going to react. Whatever Malfoy was up to, Harry was strong enough to keep him from succeeding.

They met up in the main corridor again. Malfoy had an oddly contrite look on his face that didn't look fake.

"I shouldn't have told you any of that," he said for the second time in less than a half hour. "It's just rumors and lies, anyway. Don't tell your father."

Harry pondered this. It wasn't like Snape was eager to discuss Lupin with him, any more than Harry was eager to discuss any subject with Snape. Still, he was going to mention the jinx, at least, first chance he got. He just couldn't keep something like that to himself, even if no one believed him that Voldemort was still out there and the amount of danger Lupin was in from the jinx depended on that.

"I won't," he said, deciding that there was no reason to tell Snape who had reminded him the jinx existed. "I don't believe any of it, so why should I tell?"

Malfoy visibly relaxed. "Good, because sometimes I say things I shouldn't, and I know it makes people think I'm malicious. I wasn't saying any of that to be mean. I like Lupin, actually."

Harry, who very clearly remembered how Malfoy had treated Lupin when Lupin had taught them in Third Year, really doubted that.

"I'm sure he'll get better," Malfoy went on. "It's hard to poison wizards, you know. If the poison doesn't kill you too quickly for the antidote to do any good, your own magic will clear out the residue. That's why there aren't any potions that don't wear off within the span of a day, but if you give the same potion to a Muggle or Squib it might not wear off at all, or at least take ages to."

Harry filed that away as something he would either look up or ask Snape about. Snape, after all, claimed to have created a potion that didn't wear off -- the very one that turned Harry into Hadrian. Could it be it was only working because Harry's magic had gone off? Or...

Or, the thought hit him like a bludger to the chest, the potion might be suppressing my magic purposely, because that's the way to make it last rather than wear off like Polyjuice usually does.

If that was how Snape had done it, then Harry had been right all along that it was Snape who had caused him to lose his magic.

But... no. Snape had appeared genuinely perplexed that Harry's magic was all but gone. Maybe he had made the mistake accidentally. That would go right along with the theory that Snape wasn't very good at potion-making.

Harry sighed heavily. Nothing made sense and everything was confusing, and damn Malfoy and Snape both.

"I said I was sorry," Malfoy muttered under his breath, from behind Harry.

Harry rolled his eyes and didn't reply.

He was well aware that things were going terribly wrong where his relationship with Malfoy was concerned, and he fully expected to hear plenty about it sooner or later. He just didn't know how to go about fixing it. He hadn't purposely set out to make Malfoy suspicious or to make him dislike Hadrian. Maybe he hadn't done enough to prevent it, but... it was Malfoy. Harry's brain still refused to process the concept of making friends with him, at least without being forced to.

None of the doors would open for them until they started to near the Slytherin common room.

"I'll search there," Malfoy said. "You can --" Malfoy suddenly frowned, his hand twitching toward his pocket.

Harry, who had been walking with his hands stuffed into his pockets, clutched convulsively at his own wand.

"Er..." Malfoy said, wiping his face blank. "You search that room over there. That used to be an office."

"All right," Harry said, not dropping his guard for even a moment. "Go ahead."

He waited until Malfoy had walked inside the Slytherin common room; he wasn't going to turn his back on him. Then he moved toward the room Malfoy had indicated, walking a bit sideways so he could still see the doorway Malfoy had gone through.

It was another empty room devoid of furniture, but there were two doors at the back of it that led to large storage cupboards. It took Harry a while to search all three spaces; he had to wrench a torch out of its holder so he could take it with him into the cupboards.

He kept his ears open the whole time, careful to step lightly and make as little noise as possible, so that he could hear if Malfoy tried to sneak up on him. That was why he heard the voices, though they were far away and barely audible.

He left the office quickly and followed them.

Followed was the right word for it; no matter how far he walked, the voices didn't get any closer, as though the speakers were walking away from him at the same pace. He found himself going around in a circle, taking three right turns until he could see, up ahead, the corridor where he had started.

Frowning, he stopped and looked carefully around.

It was odd, now that he thought about it, that he had taken three right turns and nearly come back to the exact place where he had started, and yet he didn't remember seeing any doors on the wall on his right side. Unless the corridor looped around an enormous slab of solid rock, there must be a hidden room and the voices must be coming from there. Either that, or the dungeons were messing with his head again.

He examined the wall. It couldn't be solid, or else sound wouldn't travel through it.

There, up near the ceiling, he saw a narrow opening, hardly a few centimeters wide, covered with a rusty grill. Upon further inspection, one of these showed up about every twenty steps apart.

Slowly, Harry made his way around again, but he didn't see anything resembling a door.

"-- more subtle next time, that's all."

"No. Sorry, but I'm --"

Harry whirled around just in time to see Malfoy and Hermione come out of a hole that had appeared in a stretch of wall he had just passed.

All three of them froze, staring at each other.

"I... I..." Hermione floundered, her eyes wide. Harry, who had been present the few times Hermione had been forced into lying, could tell she was trying to think of a likely story. "Erm... Mrs. Weasley sent me down to see if the two of you needed help. We're nearly done upstairs and haven't found the book."

Harry allowed himself to breathe normally again. "No, thank you. We're almost done, too. It isn't here, I don't think."

"Erm... that's good. That's what Draco was just telling me," Hermione said, her voice a bit high and her cheeks pink. "Well, I'll go back and let them know."

She exchanged a pained look with Malfoy before hurrying away.

"What was that about?" Harry asked, unable to keep the accusing tone out of his voice. He didn't like the idea of Hermione and Malfoy disappearing alone into secret rooms, even if all they did was talk. And he knew very well what would happen if -- or, more likely, when -- Ron got wind of it. "Why were you hiding?"

"We weren't hiding," Malfoy said, reddening just as Hermione had. "We were just meeting, that's all. She called me."

Harry stared at him suspiciously. "How could she have? I was right there."

"With this," Malfoy said, looking reluctant as he pulled something very familiar out of his pocket.

It was one of the D.A. galleons.

"She and Weasley -- Ginny Weasley, I mean -- are working on improving these, and this is one they're testing out. It vibrates when someone sends you a message."

Harry peered at the coin, but there was nothing different about it that he could see.

It made something inside him ache. Malfoy getting a new D.A. galleon, Malfoy conspiring with his friends and having secret meetings with them that Harry wasn't invited to, Malfoy being friends with Harry's friends at all --

He jerked his head to clear those thoughts away.

"What does it matter to you?" Malfoy asked, narrowing his eyes at him. "I can meet with Hermione if I like."

"I didn't say you couldn't," Harry snapped. He reeled himself in with effort. "I just thought we were looking for that book, and then you disappeared and I couldn't find you, and then --"

"That book was never down here," Malfoy said, rolling his eyes. "Professor Snape as good as said so. Let's finish here so we can say we looked for it, and then we can both get back to more important things."

"Like what?" Harry snapped again.

He certainly had nothing of any importance to do. No one trusted him enough to tell him anything or give him any task that wasn't just a ploy to occupy his time and keep him from getting in the way, like they all thought he always was.

"Do you want to help me make potions?" Malfoy asked bluntly. "I'm going to do it. Now, I mean. I'm going to get started on the ones the hospital wing usually needs. If I can get those charms to work like your father showed us this morning, I'll put on a perfect show for your father tomorrow and then he will let me take over making all of them, I'll wager."

Harry waited until Malfoy was done, since Malfoy blurted all of this out in one breathless go. Malfoy finally paused, out of air.

"I'm not good enough in potions to be of any help," Harry said. His chest hurt with the effort of breathing evenly.

Snape hadn't taught him any charms, and Malfoy's words hit him rather painfully, whether they were meant to or not.

"I'll show you what to do. Two pairs of hands and two wands are better than one."

Harry felt himself weakening. This was as good a chance as any to undo the damage he had done by being snappish and impatient with Malfoy. "I don't know..."

"I found the perfect place," Malfoy said, brightening as if Harry had already said yes. "It's down there in that corridor I was searching when we split up. I doubt anyone ever comes down there. No one will know what we're doing."

"All right," Harry said, resigned to having to do it. "Let me know when."

"I'll start setting up now. Well, as soon as we let your father know we didn't find the book, and see if he wants us for anything else. We can start brewing after dinner, so as not to be interrupted."

"All right," Harry said again. He had absolutely no enthusiasm for this plan.

Unfortunately, Malfoy did.

"We should get there separately, so no one suspects. I don't think your father would be happy if he caught us. I'll go down as soon as dinner's over. I'll say I'm a bit tired. Then you can make some excuse and join me a bit later."

"You better show me where that room is, then," Harry said. "I'm still learning my way around."

"Come on."

Malfoy led him back to where the corridor forked, and down a narrower corridor that ended at a large, menacing statue made of tarnished bronze.

"The entrance is behind this," Malfoy explained, kicking the statue's ankle with his boot. It leaped out of the way suddenly, revealing a hole in the wall. Malfoy lit his wand and went through.

Harry followed him cautiously, aware that the room was entirely dark.

Malfoy waved his wand and bright balls of light broke away from its glowing end, flying in different directions. They settled on top of four wall sconces, which sputtered and lighted.

"The tables are sturdy enough," Malfoy said. "I know where we can get some cauldrons, so we won't have to take any from under your father's nose."

"What about the ingredients?" Harry asked. He was not letting Malfoy talk him into helping steal from Snape's personal stores.

"I know where Sprout kept and dried the plants she harvested. Most medicinal potions are heavy on herbal ingredients, so we won't need much else. I will make a round of the storage cupboards in the classrooms for the rest."

Harry decided not to press further. If Malfoy was going to steal from Snape, he was going to do it without Harry, and Harry wanted to be able to say as truthfully as possible that he hadn't had any part in it.

Not that Snape wouldn't assign him a lion's share of the blame anyway.

"You'd best watch yourself around the Weasleys," Malfoy said suddenly, jarring Harry from his thoughts.

Harry stared at him. "Why?"

"Hermione warned me they might have taken the book and hope to blame me for it," Malfoy explained. "That's just the sort of thing I wouldn't put past Weasley -- Ron Weasley, I mean. I reckon you're just as much a target for something like that as I am, so I'm passing her warning on. Don't know if she's just guessing blindly or if she's overheard something, since she didn't specify how she came by this idea."

Harry stared at him some more, wishing nothing that had just come out of Malfoy's mouth made any kind of sense at all. Knowing Ron and Fred and George, however, he just couldn't dismiss the possibility they might do something like that. The looks they'd thrown his way at lunch came rushing back to the front of his mind.

"Thanks," he said, feeling like another heavy weight had just settled around his neck. "I'll be careful. Dad wouldn't..."

But Harry couldn't bring himself to finish that sentence, no matter what he thought Hadrian might have to say about whom Snape would believe if it came down to his word against the Weasleys.

He shook his head and shrugged.

Malfoy didn't press for an explanation.

They made their way back to the familiar part of the dungeons, stopping short when they rounded the corner and saw that Snape was not alone in his office.

The door was ajar and Mrs. Weasley was standing just inside the doorway. She turned, hearing them approach, and stepped out into the corridor, followed by Snape. The look she gave Harry was rather sharp, like she was looking for something specific.

Malfoy poked him in the back.

"Er... we didn't find the book, Dad. We looked in all the rooms that would open."

Mrs. Weasley's expression returned to normal. "I will let Minerva know, Severus. I did hope it would turn up. She's taking the loss so hard."

"It will be inconvenient," Snape said, one eyebrow rising, "but it's hardly worth shedding tears over. Some of these Founder artifacts are exulted well beyond their true value and worth, in my opinion. It stifles progress."

Mrs. Weasley sniffed like she didn't quite agree with him, but did not want to argue. "I will see you at dinner, Severus. I appreciate everything you're doing and wish there was something more I could do to lighten your load."

"No need," Snape said stiffly. "I shall do what I must, as always, and only trust that it is enough to make a difference."

Harry glanced at Malfoy, who had the most ridiculous look on his face. It was the same one most of the students had worn around Lockhart before Lockhart had set the pixies on them, and the same one on Ron's face when he'd looked at Viktor Krum before Krum took an interest in Hermione.

Harry couldn't comprehend anyone hero-worshiping Snape, so he looked away and tried not to make a sour face.

"Hadrian," Snape said, turning slowly to look at the two of them. "I had hoped to continue our lesson, so you may get your books and bring them to my quarters again. "Draco, you are free for the afternoon, but do use the time wisely. If you insist you don't need to rest, then begin studying the charms I gave you this morning."

"Yes, sir," Malfoy said easily.

Harry, who knew what Malfoy was really planning to do behind Snape's back, marveled that Snape didn't see right through Malfoy's smug, self-satisfied expression.

"Go on, Hadrian," Snape said, frowning at him. "I will wait for you in my quarters, and don't dawdle this time."

Harry turned and went without a word.

Harry, who was supposed to be reading his Charms book at a table in a corner, glanced at Snape.

He found Snape's eyes on him, and quickly looked down at his book.

"Is there something on your mind?" Snape asked, in a tone that suggested there had better not be anything on Harry's mind other than Charms.

Feeling like he had best just get it over with, Harry took his wrapped gift out of his pocket. "Can I leave this with you, sir?"

Snape stared at it for a moment. The corner of his mouth twisted spitefully. "Any surprises inside?"

"No," Harry said, steeling himself for another round of being yelled at for sending Tales of Beedle the Bard to Hermione. "I can unwrap it, if you want."

He thought about how he had told Lupin the same thing. Snape, he thought, would surely check the package, and would have done so even if Harry hadn't sneaked the book past Lupin. Snape had never trusted him, and never would.

"Leave it on the table and I will take care of it," Snape said dismissively. "You should not have walked about with something so incriminating on your person."

"I would have just said it had arrived early and Professor Lupin had given it to me. And I was only walking from my room to yours, so I didn't think I would run into anyone."

"You never think," Snape said, his eyes narrowing. "You have both Draco and Granger ready to pounce on the smallest mistake you make, and you still go around doing just as you please."

"I don't," Harry said, keeping his voice low. He didn't want to make Snape any angrier, but he couldn't just let that go. "I'm doing my best not to make anyone suspicious. It's just hard, sometimes. I don't know what I'm doing... sometimes."

Snape studied him, his eyes still narrowed, but when he spoke his tone was calmer. "Has something happened? I know Draco is plotting something, and I remind you I have your word that you will tell me if you learn anything of importance."

Harry considered this. He had told Snape he would tell him if Malfoy was up to something. And Malfoy was up to something. So, why didn't Harry feel much like ratting him out for it?

Maybe it was because Malfoy didn't seem to be planning something that would hurt anyone in the castle. Harry was sure Snape wouldn't be happy to learn Malfoy was going to steal ingredients and make potions without supervision in some abandoned room in a far corner of the dungeons. Still, that wasn't the same as what Harry had thought he was agreeing to, when he made Snape that promise. And he didn't think Snape would have much interest in the meeting Malfoy had with Hermione --

"I think he and Hermione are working together to prove I'm me," Harry blurted. The thought had come very suddenly, and had gone from his brain to his mouth before he could think twice. "I mean..."

Snape leaned forward, his already narrowed eyes narrowing to slits. "What makes you think so?"

"Malfoy was trying to make me react. While we were looking for the book. He was insulting all the people I care about, but making it sound like he was giving me information I would want."

"Go on."

Harry felt his tongue loosening, and for a moment considered that Snape might have cast some kind of babbling curse at him. That was the only explanation he had for why he suddenly wanted to tell Snape everything.

"He said Dumbledore was dotty and kept Peeves around on purpose. He said Hagrid was incompetent and Lupin didn't teach Defense." Once he started, Harry really couldn't make himself stop. "He said my dad was a bully. He said the Defense job is jinxed and that's why Lupin will die. He said --"

But Harry could not bring himself to repeat the other thing Malfoy had said about Lupin, and so the flood of words came to an end at last.

Snape waited for a few moments, only speaking when Harry, who was pressing his lips tightly together, didn't continue.

"Hagrid was incompetent," Snape said, keeping Harry pinned with his sharp gaze, as if expecting him to argue. "Though not particularly more so than many of Dumbledore's other hires."

Harry crossed his arms over his chest, but didn't say anything in Hagrid's defense. He liked Hagrid, but the Care of Magical Creatures class under Hagrid had not been what it probably should have been.

"James Potter was a bully," Snape said, his eyes glinting dangerously.

Harry nodded slowly. He hadn't been able to convince himself otherwise, and had given up trying.

"The Defense Against the Dark Arts position was indeed cursed," Snape went on. "And we have considered the possibility that it still might be."

Harry's mouth fell open. "But you let Lupin take it!"

"Yes," Snape said. "The curse is hardly deadly --"

"Malfoy said most teachers who had the job died!" Harry exploded. "How is that not deadly?"

"He is misinformed," Snape said, calmly. "There has been only one death in four decades, and that was Quirrell, who was doomed by the Dark Lord's own actions. I suppose Draco told you only the Dark Lord's most faithful could hold the position without coming to harm?"

Harry nodded.

"Conjecture," Snape said. "That rumor was going around even when I was a student, and there have been Death Eaters on staff since then who did not fare any better than anyone else."

"What about Crouch?"

Snape's eyebrow rose. "Do Dementors kill, Potter?"

Harry mulled this over. "No, I guess. They do worse, don't they?"

"Yes. But nonetheless, Barty Crouch Jr. is alive to this day."

Harry shivered at the thought of a mindless, soulless husk being kept alive in some prison cell somewhere.

"We have gone over the possibilities, and we believe the only way for the curse to have worked unfailingly through the years, even when the Dark Lord was a mere shadow, was by binding the curse to an object that had magical power of its own."

Harry frowned, not understanding.

"A spell needs magic to draw upon, if it is to last for any length of time. That is why most spells fail when the wizard who cast them dies, or else fade with time. The source of magic is cut off, or depleted, and without magic a spell cannot hold any more than a fire can burn without fuel."

Harry still frowned, trying to understand how the magical world worked. "What about the castle? The people who built it are long gone, aren't they?"

Snape's voice eased into his familiar teaching tone, and Harry listened, almost spellbound.

"There is magic in the very stones... in the very ground... in everything here. Hogwarts draws magic from its inhabitants. Every spell cast, every potion brewed. Even the tears shed by homesick students have magical properties. If abandoned, the castle would fall to ruin, though it would take hundreds of years to deplete the magic that exists here. Even then, there would be objects found within these walls that would retain their magic. The strength of the wizard who cast the spell makes a difference as well, you see. That is why the objects left to us by the Founders continue to be some of the most powerful objects in our world."

Harry blinked, as if coming awake, as Snape ended his lecture. "Oh."

"As I said, we have considered the possibility that the position is still cursed," Snape continued, his voice normal again. "I believe I have discovered the object that is most likely to hold the curse."

"What was it?"

Snape stood up and walked over to the bookshelf close to where Harry was sitting. One entire shelf swung away, revealing a cavity behind it. He took out a large book.

Harry stared at it, barely comprehending. "You took it?"

Snape's lips quirked in a way that was neither quite a smile nor quite a smirk. "I did."

"Well -- I --" Harry huffed a bit, trying to decide if he were more annoyed or relieved. "Malfoy was thinking Ron and Fred and George had taken it and were going to try to frame one of us for it."

"That sounds like the sort of thing they would do," Snape said. His eyes darkened. "It is the sort of thing James Potter would do. And did, in fact, do."

Harry folded his arms over his chest again. Snape didn't have to keep harping on it. Harry felt bad enough already.

Snape settled into a chair opposite Harry, setting the book down on the table between them, next to Harry's abandoned Charms textbook.

"Listen to me, Potter," Snape said, lowering his voice in a way that made Harry look up in spite of himself. "There is one thing you can expect to happen consistently, and that is for family to stand behind family. Should accusations be made, parents will always believe their own children before an outsider, no matter what they know their children to be capable of."

Harry swallowed. Where did that leave him, really? He had no family.

"Just the same, you can expect family to save family first. Remember that. Forgetting can be just as disastrous as putting your trust in the wrong person, for in a moment where a single decision can mean the difference between living and dying, you need to know where you rank in the hearts and minds of those you trust with your life."

Harry frowned and nodded, but he didn't understand what any of it meant, or what one thing had to do with the other, or why Snape was telling him any of that.

"Sir?"

Snape motioned for Harry to speak.

"Why are you telling me this?" Harry asked, hoping Snape wasn't going to berate him for being too obtuse to understand.

"I am your guardian and for the time being that makes us family," Snape said. "Though I am not blind to your faults, you can expect me to take your side against those I know do not have your best interests at heart."

Harry stared at him. It had never occurred to him to expect any such thing, and he wasn't about to start now, just because Snape said so.

Abruptly, Snape changed the subject, his hand coming down with a thump on the red cover of the large book.

"It has always been a source of confusion as to why Dumbledore did not remove the curse. Each year he would seek a new teacher, and each seemed less competent than the last. Surely a wizard as powerful as Dumbledore could have removed the curse if he so chose?"

Harry waited. He didn't think Snape expected anything from him other than his rapt attention. Harry had no trouble providing that; he wanted to know the answer.

"I have found, through his notes, that he studied the phenomenon extensively. He certainly had many years to do so. He learned that the curse found its intended target even when the position's official title was changed, even when the location of the professor's office or the classroom was moved, and even when more than one person was hired to the job."

Harry could hardly move, enthralled by the mystery Snape was laying out.

"How was the curse anchored? It was not the office, nor the classroom, nor any object within them. The effect seemed muted when more than one person taught, as if the curse split its power between the two, but was strengthened when the workload increased, such as by taking on responsibility for extra-curricular activities or tutoring."

"Like the Dueling Club?" Harry wondered out loud. Then another thought came. In dismay, he added, "Like Professor Lupin teaching me the Patronus Charm?"

Snape nodded. "It is true that during your time at Hogwarts the curse seemed to be at its worst. Until Quirrell, most Defense professors merely felt compelled to take jobs elsewhere, retire, or relocate to another country. A number of female professors fell pregnant out of wedlock. The Hogwarts charter has not been changed in centuries and still prohibits such fallen women from teaching."

"Did Crouch get it worse because of the Tri-Wizard Tournament?"

"Yes, most likely," Snape agreed. "As well as, possibly, his use of a potion that could be classified as Dark Magic and his use of the Unforgivables. Such things seemed to give extra fuel to the curse, just as Quirrell likely worsened his situation by being willing to murder the innocent."

"Professor Lupin being a werewolf, too?" Harry asked, even as he wondered if Snape meant only the unicorns, or Harry as well. "Did that count?"

Snape nodded. "I'm certain it did. What still seemed inexplicable was the curse continuing to be active with the Dark Lord reduced to spirit form. There was no noticeable change in those years, and it is this which led me to think there was an object involved. One with great power of its own."

"This book?" Harry asked, running his hand over the soft, faded cover.

To his surprise, given that Snape claimed the book held Voldemort's curse, Snape allowed Harry to open it.

There were pages upon pages -- the book seemed to hold far more pages than even its thick spine would have suggested it could -- filled with writing in many different hands. The dates at the top told Harry that the book did indeed go back to the time of the Founders. The first pages Harry flipped through were in an unfamiliar language, which on closer look appeared to be antiquated English mingled with Latin and Greek and several others that Harry only vaguely recognized.

He flipped to the end of the book. There were no blank pages; the final page was dated as representing the coming school year. He looked up, a question on the tip of his tongue.

"A clean page appears at the end of each year," Snape said. "The book is charmed to hold an infinite number of pages."

That had not been Harry's question at all, though it did explain why the book seemed to have come to such an abrupt end.

The page was divided into sections, but what those sections might have originally represented was hard to say. Blackened, crinkle-edged holes had been blasted through the parchment in dozens of places, obliterating whatever writing had once been there, much like names had been blasted off the Black family tapestry at Grimmauld Place.

There was only one bit of writing left on the page that could be read, aside from the date, and that was the name Severus Snape, written in the lower left-hand corner of the page in a hand that was very familiar to Harry.

Harry glanced at Snape, but Snape was watching him with a closed, indiscernible expression.

With a heavy feeling already settling in the pit of his stomach, Harry turned to the previous page. There was an agenda listing the important dates of the previous year, such as holidays and end-of-term exams, and it ended with the results of the House Cup competition. He turned back another page.

It was laid out in the same grid-like way, but it was undamaged. Each section was titled with a name of a Hogwarts class, starting with Transfiguration and ending with Potions.

In the lower-left corner, under Defense Against the Dark Arts, Dolores Umbridge was written in Dumbledore's familiar flowery hand.

Harry stared at the page much longer than necessary, trying to pull his scattered thoughts together.

"So... you've obliterated every other teacher's name, and put yourself down for Defense?" Harry looked up at Snape, finally, and tried without success to clamp down on his next words. "How is that going to help, if you die instead?"

Snape's mouth twitched unpleasantly. "I would have thought you would see the obvious, Potter. Your precious Lupin is doubly protected against the curse, since the curse either died with the Dark Lord or has been befuddled by the removal of Lupin's name from this book. That is not a frivolous little hex I used. It is complex magic, designed to break magical bonds and contracts. It is the same one that Black's mother used to disown her son; the act of blasting these names off the page has turned back time, so to speak, and made it so they might as well have never been put down in the first place."

Harry, pursing his lips stubbornly, refused to be derailed. "I don't want you to die."

Snape barked out a laugh. "Everyone dies," he said, his clipped tone spiteful. "You should know that by now. I don't intend to die by this curse, and don't believe I shall. I wrote my name there to see if there were any changes in the book's magic, compared to writing it under one of the other positions. I intend to blast it off again, and so I am in no danger."

"How do you know it worked, even?" Harry asked, feeling defeated. Of course Snape would refuse to acknowledge what Harry really meant. "How do you know the book cares if you change the names after they had already been written?"

He was thinking of Riddle's diary, which had absorbed ink the moment it touched the page. It did not need the words to stay.

"Because the book is no longer capable of performing any of its usual functions using the information that used to be contained on that page," Snape said, taking out his wand. "Observe what happens when a time-table is generated."

He tapped the book and said a lengthy incantation.

The book's spine groaned and curved unnaturally, like an animal arching its back in agony. The cover flew open and spat out a stack of parchment, which promptly toppled over. The book went still.

Harry picked up a piece of parchment that had skidded toward him.

It was a time-table much like all the others he had received at the beginning of the school year, but there was only one class listed.

"I am still looking into various options," Snape went on. "But I suspect in the end I will simply offer to make up the time-tables myself, as it would fall under my responsibilities as Deputy Headmaster --"

"What?" Harry exclaimed. No one had told him that.

Snape glared at him and ignored the interruption. "-- and have the book make up time-tables using information I give it. It will be simple to explain away any differences, as I can claim truthfully to have not studied the book in detail prior to its disappearance."

Harry drew in a long breath.

"Now, forget we had this conversation," Snape said, giving him a look that said he didn't expect Harry had the sense to take good advice when it was given. "If anyone asks you about the book directly, look your most ignorant and say you have been keeping an eye out for it."

Harry nodded. That was what he would have done, anyway. What else would he have said, really, when until now he hadn't known what had happened to the book?

"Is there anything else troubling you?"

Harry started to shake his head, then stopped and bit his lip. There were any number of things on his mind. He didn't even know where to start, now that Snape was so inexplicably willing to answer his questions.

Learning that Lupin wasn't in danger from the jinx didn't solve the problem, did it? Something was wrong with him.

"Lupin has convinced himself his magic is turning against him," Snape said, clearly having violated Harry's mind again. "I admit there may be something to it, but most likely it will pass in due time. The trouble with him," Snape's mouth twisted into a sneer, "is that he seems to want it to be true."

"I don't understand," Harry said, quietly so as not to upset Snape and cause him to stop explaining just when Harry was hearing something tangible. "Is it like what's happening to me?"

"Similar, in a way. Both of you have had something happen that changed the nature of your magic. For you it was failing charms that had entwined with your magic over many years, and possibly also the loss of the Dark Lord's horcrux, which your magical core also had years to grow accustomed to. For him it -- well, at least in his mind -- it's the loss of Black."

Harry crossed his arms over his chest again. If Snape repeated any of what Malfoy had said, Harry was going to be sick all over Snape's rug.

"I suppose Draco couldn't resist sharing what was in those books he brought over from the Malfoy library," Snape sneered. "I caught him reading one and confiscated the lot, even before I knew what they were about."

"I... don't know what you mean."

Harry remembered the books well enough, of course, but Malfoy hadn't said anything about his information coming from a book.

"Most of what is written about werewolves is purely speculation and unfounded guesses. Some of it is purposely misleading propaganda. You can dismiss almost everything you read on the subject. Werewolves are no more prone to pining away after the death of someone close than anyone else, magical or Muggle alike. Literature is full of cases of fatal depression."

Harry felt like he was being strangled, so he didn't reply.

"Sometimes..." Snape hesitated and shifted uncomfortably in his chair, leaning back stiffly and folding his hands over his abdomen. "Sometimes magic makes it worse. When two people are magical, their magic can mingle in ways that aren't fully understood. In rare cases, the magic of one can begin to depend on the presence of the other, and the loss can cause an imbalance somewhat similar to what has happened to you. In time, the magic heals itself, but it can..." Snape paused again, looking away and breathing deeply. "It can indeed feel like dying."

Harry had to wonder if Snape knew from personal experience, but he knew he would never be brave enough to ask.

"In Lupin's case it seems to be the wolf that got used to being near another magical being, and is expressing its displeasure at the loss by turning against Lupin even with the Wolfsbane. You know he has started to savage himself again, and that is what the Wolfsbane is meant to prevent. The potion no longer gives him the degree of control it used to."

Harry had to say that was a lot better than what Malfoy had been suggesting, but it certainly didn't bring him much relief.

"His Patronus," Snape went on, "has recently changed, which I admit is a worrying development, but which he has taken as a sign of worse to come. I still think it may come to nothing."

Harry wanted to ask what Snape meant about Lupin's Patronus, recalling that Lupin hadn't given him a straight answer the time he had sent a Howler hurtling through the Floo network.

But Snape was clearly done with the conversation that made him uncomfortable; he stood up and took the book from the table, returning it to its hiding place.

"If you are not going to study, you will have to find some other manner of amusing yourself," Snape told him. "I left the Skele-Gro brewing in my office and will need to check on it regularly over the next few hours, but you will have to remain here so I can observe you."

"Observe me?" Harry asked blankly. Was that why Snape had been insisting on making him study in his presence? "What for? Sir."

Snape fixed him with a look that told Harry he was guilty of not thinking again. "We expect something to happen with your magic, don't we? Have you made any attempts at spellwork in the past day or so?"

"No," Harry said. There hadn't been any reason to.

"Try it now."

Harry took out his wand. "Which spell?"

"No matter."

Harry waved the wand in a carefully controlled swish. "Lumos!"

A light flickered and sputtered at the end of his wand, sparks shooting off in random directions.

"Nox!" Harry said quickly, and then again, when nothing happened, Nox!"

The light sputtered and died, leaving a few sparks floating slowly down to the floor. Harry stared at them glumly.

When he looked up, Snape had his own wand out and was frowning in a puzzled sort of way. Harry was starting to get used to that look being directed at him.

As soon as Snape noticed him, he put away the wand and schooled his face back into a neutral expression.

"We will see if anything changes after your birthday."

"But... it is my birthday," Harry said, a bit sullenly.

"That's why I said, after," Snape said. "You may stay with me tonight, and we will wait it out together."

Harry started to open his mouth, but couldn't think of anything he wanted to say. He certainly didn't want to spend even more time with Snape, even when Snape was answering his questions for once, but what he wanted never seemed to be relevant to any given situation. "Yes, sir."

"I don't want you to be alone when something does happen," Snape said, putting his wand away. "I would rather you stay here, since your room is too far away to make it easy to check on you frequently. If you prefer, however, I can lend you a two-way mirror and you can call in every hour, instead."

Harry shrugged indifferently. Either way, it looked like he wasn't escaping Snape's company for the rest of the day. He wondered how he was going to explain to Malfoy, who expected them to meet after dinner, without Snape's knowledge.

Snape's eyes narrowed at him. Harry was sure he hadn't been looking directly at Snape, but somehow he was sure Snape had caught some of his thoughts anyway.

"I'm supposed to meet Malfoy after dinner," Harry said, deciding to confess preemptively. "I kept putting him off about studying together, and today I couldn't put him off again."

"Reschedule," Snape said, as if that was the simplest thing possible. "I shall give him something to keep him busy."

"Thank you," Harry said, a bit grudgingly. He supposed it was a miracle Snape was willing to do anything at all. "I'm really trying to get along with him. But..."

Snape fixed him with another sharp stare.

"Well, imagine if you --"

He cut himself off quickly. He had been about to ask Snape to imagine having to be friendly with James Potter or Sirius Black. Was he suicidal?

"I never suggested you had to like it," Snape said, in a way that made Harry entirely certain that Snape knew exactly what Harry had been about to say. "It simply must be done."

Harry nodded. "I know. I'm trying."

Snape sniffed irritably. "Will you stay out of trouble while I check on the potion?"

"Yes, sir."

Snape looked meaningfully between Harry and the Charms book.

Harry picked it up and pretended he had any clue where he had stopped reading.

With another irritable sniff, Snape left him alone.

Harry moved over to the couch, resigned to spending the afternoon trapped in Snape's quarters. He had picked the table in the corner before because the couch was too close to where Snape had settled again with the Skele-Gro recipe.

Instead of reading, he kicked off his boots and curled up in the corner of the couch, resting his head on the stiff cushions piled at one end.

Snape may have answered his questions, but Harry felt somehow worse for it. The information was settling slowly in his mind, which was working so furiously to sort through it that Harry felt the effort was draining his physical energy, making him feel like he hadn't slept in days.

The door opened and Lupin walked in, his arms filled with books. "Severus --"

He saw Harry and stopped short. His expression turned sour.

"Professor Snape asked me in," Harry said, just in case Lupin was about to accuse him of breaking and entering. He pulled himself upright and started to pull on his boots. "He's checking the Skele-Gro potion."

Lupin started toward the bedroom, and Harry knew with a dull pang that he was about to be thoroughly snubbed.

"Let him know I've left the books he asked for."

The bedroom door had shut again before Harry could think of a reply.

A few minutes later Lupin came out, empty-handed, and warded the bedroom door from the outside, with a suspicious glance Harry's way that Harry didn't fail to notice. He was probably meant to see it.

Harry sighed.

Well, at least Lupin didn't look particularly worse than usual. They all looked rather tired these days. No one dared to truly relax or drop their guard, and even when Harry got a decent night of sleep -- even on those rare nights when he didn't have nightmares that jerked him awake and left him shaky, panicky, or drowning in painful memories and emotions -- he never felt fully rested.

An ache was starting to creep into his bones, and he felt like it never entirely left anymore. He felt old, like someone who had lived for a very long time and was nearing the end of his life.

Harry shook his head fiercely as an unwanted prickling started behind his eyeballs.

He was not going to think like that. Maybe he would have to sacrifice himself so that Voldemort could finally be defeated for good, but he wasn't going to lie down and die until he was actually dead. It was one thing to know what was coming, but he wasn't going to just give up. Something might happen yet. Things had happened before, at the last minute, that delivered him from what seemed like a hopeless situation.

Lupin was looking at something Snape had left behind, his back to Harry. On closer look, Harry saw it was that morning's Daily Prophet.

"Professor Snape told me your Patronus changed," Harry said, his voice a bit shaky. He had no idea if Lupin was just going to ignore him. Then what? "You said something about it that time you called me to your office with the Howler, but..."

He trailed off, because Lupin had turned to face him, wearing an expression that suggested he would gladly send Harry a dozen more Howlers, and not polite, quiet ones.

"Mind your own business," Lupin said, harshly. "He should not have told you anything of the sort."

Harry hugged his arms around himself and shrank back into the lumpy cushions.

"I didn't think you would appreciate having this jump out at you," Lupin said, whipping out his wand.

Something silver, massive, and achingly familiar leaped from it and bounded toward Harry.

"Padfoot," Harry whispered. He reached for the glowing animal, but his fingers went right through it and he jerked his hand back, his chest constricting.

"Satisfied your curiosity?"

Harry looked down to hide the tears that had sprung to his eyes. He nodded.

There was a long silence.

"Why does that happen?"

"Why don't you ask Professor Snape, since his tongue is so loose today."

"I'd rather you tell me," Harry said, feeling pathetic.

Lupin made an irritable sound, and Harry was sure he wasn't going to get any answer at all.

But after some time, Lupin pulled a chair closer to the couch and sat down.

"If Dumbledore were here, he might blather on about a borrowed Patronus being yet one more way those we love never truly leave us."

"I don't care what Dumbledore would have to say about it," Harry muttered. He had heard enough about Dumbledore to last seven lifetimes.

"And in this case you shouldn't," Lupin said shortly. "A Patronus is the most personal sort of charm there is. It draws directly from your magical core. Some say it draws from your soul. To have one that is not truly your own can be a beautiful or terrible thing... and it is far more often terrible."

"Why?" Harry asked, finally looking up at him again.

Lupin was staring into the dying fire in Snape's fireplace with a cross look on his face, his eyes strangely clouded. He didn't look at all like he wanted to be having this conversation, and Harry didn't know if it was the topic or just that he didn't want to be talking with Harry at all.

"Sometimes, it is true, a Patronus can change to take on the form of someone we care deeply about, whether that person is alive or dead. It has nothing to do with romantic love; it can just as well be familial love or even unrequited longing for someone who is barely aware you exist. Born of such strong emotions, you would think the Patronus would be stronger, but more often it is but a pale shade of what it should be."

Harry mulled this over. "What about mine? Prongs is sort of borrowed, isn't he?"

Lupin turned slowly to face him. "Yes," he said, his eyes burning into Harry's. "Your Patronus was born out of love and longing for a father you had not truly known. Do you see the problem yet?"

Harry shook his head.

"Think back," Lupin said. "When did Prongs come to you?"

"I --" Harry shivered as he recalled the lake shore and the Dementors descending upon him and Sirius. Death, descending to envelop him in a frigid cloak, rattling breaths filling his ears... "It was the night Wormtail escaped. At the lake. They were going to Kiss Sirius. And me. I knew the spell would work, because I had watched myself casting it. I didn't know it was me, though. I thought it was Dad..."

He trailed off. Reliving that night, even in a small way, was not much easier than his nightmares of Sirius falling through the Veil.

"Did you want, then, to be like James?"

"Yes," Harry said, remembering the soaring feeling that learning about Prongs had filled him with. It had been better than learning he had inherited James' skill in Quidditch. More personal. More like when he had received James' Invisibility Cloak, or the first time he saw his parents in the Mirror of Erised and in his photo album. It was the feeling of finally having something tangible of his long-dead family. "I guess so."

"Do you feel the same about James now as you did then?"

Harry swallowed.

No, of course he didn't.

He shook his head slowly. "I guess not. Not really. I'm still sort of... confused, I guess."

"And so," Lupin said, with a scathing laugh that Harry had never heard from him before, "you are now the proud owner of a Patronus that does not represent your soul, but is based on a love you no longer feel for a man who has failed to live up to --"

"That's enough."

Harry jerked around at the sound of Snape's commanding voice.

Snape crossed the room faster than Harry expected. He pulled Lupin to his feet by the elbow, his eyes narrowed.

"So that's what you have been doing, locked in your office," Snape said, his voice low and clearly meant for Lupin's ears only. He jerked his head toward the bedroom door. "Go sleep it off. I don't have any more potions."

Lupin jerked out of his grasp. "Fine. But I have my own quarters and I think it would be best if I stayed there for the time being."

Snape raised his hand as if to grab him again, but seemed to change his mind midway and dropped it back to his side. "Fine."

Lupin walked out, not looking at Harry as he passed. The door slammed behind him.

Snape watched him go with a deep frown, his mouth a thin white line.

Then, maddeningly, he fixed Harry with an accusing stare, like it had been entirely Harry's fault that he had come back to find Lupin and Harry talking about things Harry had no business knowing. And Lupin... had Lupin been drinking again, like Harry suspected he might have been doing back when they'd stayed at Grimmauld Place?

"Don't listen to him," Snape said, a muscle in his jaw twitching unpleasantly. "He is projecting his own overwrought emotions onto you."

Harry, who had been readying himself for some unfair accusation, felt like he had been knocked off-balance, and had to scrambled to make sense of what Snape was saying.

"Is it true about a Patronus being weak when it's borrowed?"

Snape hesitated. "Usually. You see how the opposite could be true, however, do you not? Yours was made stronger by your feelings toward..." Snape hesitated again, almost imperceptibly. "James Potter. That in itself is a powerful type of magic, I believe. Whether you did so consciously or not, you called upon your father to save you in a time of utmost need, and in answer you were sent a powerful protector which took his Animagus form. The earliest magic known to man was like this; invoking ancestors and deities for protection and blessing. It is not understood, but it is well established that children are often saved by their own accidental magic after making a desperate plea invoking an absent parent or what some would call a guardian angel. Some have even gone as far as to claim the magic is lent to them from beyond the grave."

Harry stared at him, trying to understand, but not there yet. What Snape was saying was so different from what Lupin had said... and yet Harry instinctively felt that Snape did not truly disagree with Lupin.

Snape sighed and sat down in the chair Lupin had vacated, as though resigned to another long conversation he did not wish to have.

"It is true that you may now have a Patronus that has lost the source of magical fuel it requires. I told you that spells require magic, and in the case of a Patronus, it draws that magic from a single, singularly strong emotion. Usually the emotion is tied to a memory, and that is usually how we are taught the charm. It can, however, simply be what we feel toward a person, and it is not true that what we feel must be happy. Love, desire, longing, grief... do you need to be told that a Patronus based on a negative or painful emotion is worthless against Dementors?"

Harry shook his head.

Snape rubbed his hand over his eyes and sighed. "A Patronus that changes while we grieve the loss of a loved one almost always is a bad sign. They are rarely strong, and they are devilishly difficult to get rid of. Think, how would you bring yourself to destroy the embodiment of someone you loved who is no longer with you? Something that came to you in your darkest hour, like a part of them returning to you from beyond the grave, to stay at your side always?"

Harry, thinking of Prongs and with a vision of the glowing, silver Padfoot, swiped furiously at the tears that suddenly overflowed his eyes.

He was crying in front of Snape, and he couldn't stop.

Snape watched him struggling for a minute or two. Then he leaned back in the chair like his spine didn't want to hold him up anymore, sighing and shutting his eyes, the fingers of one hand rubbing his temple.

"You..." Harry forced down a strangled sob. "You say all that like... like you know."

Snape's eyes opened slowly.

He reached into his pocket and removed his wand, giving it a lethargic wave.

A misty tendril snaked out of the tip of his wand, twisting as it coalesced into a discernible form.

Harry watched it, confused, as it pranced a circle around the room, and returned to Snape, stopping in front of him as if in greeting before turning to mist again and vanishing like a wisp of smoke into his wand.

"I do," Snape said quietly, putting his wand away.

Harry wiped his eyes on his sleeve; he no longer felt out of control, though there was an ache behind his eyes that made him wary he might lose it again.

It made sense now, he supposed. The doe had come to find him and Malfoy when they had stayed outdoors too long without permission, and when she had opened her mouth and spoken in Snape's voice, he'd had the fleeting thought that a dainty doe was not the sort of Patronus he would have expected Snape to have.

So, she wasn't his. Not originally.

He wanted to ask, but if the doe represented someone Snape had lost and still mourned, Harry didn't think he could ask something like that.

Instead, he said, "Professor Lupin brought you some books."

That got an instant reaction out of Snape. He stood and looked around, his eyes searching the various surfaces in the room.

"In the bedroom," Harry said. "He locked them in. I guess I'm not supposed to see what they're about."

Snape sent a near-glare his way, as if that was all he had to say on the matter, before canceling Lupin's wards and disappearing inside the bedroom. The door slammed shut behind him.

Harry sighed again.

Then he walked over to a small table pushed into the corner and looked at the Daily Prophet, which was still lying there, in plain view. He was rather glad he hadn't seen it before Lupin had drawn his attention to it, or Lupin would have caught him reading it.

At least now he wouldn't have to ask to find out just what Mrs. Weasley had seen that made her call him a 'poor, innocent boy'; he had been wondering how he might get his hands on that day's Daily Prophet.

It wasn't front page news. It was buried in the middle of the eighth page, among such noteworthy items as a shoplifting incident at Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour and a lost parrot.

SETBACK FOR WIZARD-GOBLIN RELATIONS proclaimed the headline. Access barred to highly contested Potter vault was the smaller subheading.

The first paragraph retold the history of Gringotts and the monopoly goblins had on wizard banking. Harry skipped over it.

Auror Williamson -- Harry recognized the name as someone who had been previously quoted by the Prophet, retelling Harry's ordeal at the Ministry in a particularly negative light -- explains the need for this precaution: "We have an underage wizard who has defied orders to turn himself in for questioning, who may be suffering from a mental break, and who may be a danger to the public. I think anyone would agree that allowing him continued access to a fortune in gold is foolhardy. The goblins have a long history of allowing questionable parties to gain access to their vaults, including escaped convict Sirius Black, notable for being the Potter boy's godfather and who may have imparted knowledge on evading authorities. In fact, we are no longer certain Sirius Black is dead; we have but the word of the shadowy organization Order of the Phoenix. There is a distinct possibility that Potter and Black are traveling together --

"Finished?"

Harry looked up blankly, feeling like he had just come awake from a bizarre dream. Snape was standing in the bedroom doorway, watching him. He seemed to have gotten over whatever had possessed him to share something as personal as his Patronus with Harry, and his expression was as impassive as usual.

Harry stared back in silence until he was relatively sure Snape wasn't about to start yelling at him for looking at the newspaper.

He let the paper drop back on the table. "They confiscated my vault?"

"Not precisely. For the moment they have no authority to enter the vaults --"

"Vaults?"

"The Black vault is counted among your assets," Snape said, impatiently. "You no longer have access to the vaults, which for you is little different from the situation you were in before. It is only an issue in that it was money the Order could have used in a time of need, and we no longer have it."

Harry nodded, letting out a breath. "Who is this Williamson? He has it in for me."

"Rising star in the Auror Department..." Snape's lip curled. "Death Eater."

Harry considered this. "Are they taking over the Ministry? Is that what's going on?"

"They were always there." Snape smiled crookedly. "We merely underestimated their numbers."

"Is someone in charge of them?" Harry asked, a little desperately. He still wanted to cling to the idea that all of this should have been over the moment Voldemort died. Maybe, though, his loyal followers knew what Harry now knew, and were carrying on until their master could return to lead them again. "Is someone organizing them? Is it Fudge?"

"Fudge only has one goal, and that is to stay in power. If there is someone else, and there most likely is, they are staying out of the spotlight for now."

"But..." Harry floundered, frustrated and outraged that this could really be going on. "But, it could be anyone! Is that what you're saying? We wouldn't even know if this person walked through the front doors of Hogwarts right now?"

Snape's eyes narrowed. "That is why we keep telling you to be on guard, Potter. Those aren't just empty words."

"I am --!" Harry stopped and lowered his voice. There was no reason to be yelling at Snape. "I am," he repeated. He hesitated before adding, "I'd feel better being able to use magic."

"That is why you're here, is it not?" Snape inclined his head. "I suggest you focus on your studies, or the afternoon will feel excruciatingly long."

It already did feel that way. Harry again had the sensation of having not slept in days.

"Would you rather sleep? I have a mild sleeping draught that shouldn't affect you badly."

Harry shrugged. At this point he wasn't sure he would mind taking one.

Snape looked annoyed at his non-verbal answer, but went and got the potion from the cabinet, holding it out silently until Harry took it from him.

"I'll be back shortly," Snape said, with the air of speaking to a toddler who couldn't be trusted to act sensibly without supervision. "There's an extra blanket in that cupboard. Take off your boots if you're going to be lying on my couch."

Harry waited until Snape had gone before sinking onto the couch. The cushions, so stiff and lumpy earlier, felt soft and inviting.

He blearily noted that Snape hadn't re-warded the bedroom door, and that if Harry wanted to he could go see what Lupin had brought Snape. Books Snape had requested, he'd said...

But he didn't do it, instead curling around one of the larger cushions, his head in the crook of his arm, and shut his eyes.

The potion bottle was cool and smooth in his hand, and he thought sluggishly that he should probably drink it, and then wondered what it was that he felt like he was forgetting to do.

Then, everything faded away.