The dining hall doors swung open and Harry, his heart thudding into the pit of his stomach, twisted around in his seat.

He noticed he was the only one to do so. Quite suddenly, the other orphans were singularly interested in their watery porridge. No one around him seemed to see the black-robed figure stalking down the isle between the tables, heading straight toward Harry.

Snape stopped in front of him, close enough to look down his long nose at him, which he did after sweeping his eyes over the table and the other orphans with a disgusted expression on his sallow face.

Harry felt himself being studied from the toes of his scuffed-up boots to the top of his head.

"Is this meant to be a disguise?"

Harry opened his mouth with an instant retort, but snapped it shut in time. Well, what could he say to that? His appearance wasn't going to fool anyone who knew James Potter as a child, even if the slight changes did manage to confuse those who had known Harry. If anything, Lupin had made him look even more like James. He settled for a rather sullen, "No, sir."

Snape sighed impatiently -- somehow he managed to make it a particularly derisive sound -- and before Harry understood what was happening, waved his wand over the top of Harry's head.

"Hey!"

Snape ignored this. He lifted Harry's glasses off his face and stared at him appraisingly for a long moment. "Worse," he said finally, with another irritable huff.

"Yes," Harry agreed, trying to grab his glasses back. "I can't see!"

The glasses were given back to him. He put them on and gingerly felt his face, but it was hard to tell what Snape might have done.

"I have not changed your appearance," Snape said, again looking down at him as though Harry were a worm. "I was merely attempting to determine the spells used by that worthless lunatic."

He spat the words out with such distaste that Harry instantly felt a throb of fear for Lupin.

"Is Lupin all right?"

Snape's nostrils flared. "If it were me, I wouldn't care."

"Well, it's me, and I do care," Harry said indignantly, losing hold of his temper. "Is he all right?"

"No," Snape said shortly.

Harry's mouth gaped.

Snape, however, moved on. "I have wasted enough of my time tracking you down. Now, you tell me, what is to be done with you?" And he again gave Harry the look that made him feel like worm guts.

"What do you mean?" Harry asked, feeling that the question was either in jest and at his expense, or was completely unfair. "What are the options?"

"It was intended," Snape said coolly, "that I take you back to Britain. However, now that I know he didn't leave you by the side of the road, I am inclined to consider the possibility of leaving you where you are."

Harry swallowed. It was the same thought he'd had himself, but it was quite different to have it become a reality. Suddenly, he was glad it was Snape who had come. He didn't want to hear the same words from someone he cared about.

Snape apparently felt he had waited too long for an answer, because he continued. "I will allow that this is hardly a palace, but you have very little to go back to. Should you decide to stay, I believe you would be safe here. There's a school of magic not far from here that accepts children of thirteen. This gives you two or three years to learn the language and customs of this country." He paused. "You could lead a normal life here."

Normal. Right. Take a good look around, Snape.

Harry had to swallow several times before he could squeeze out, "And if I want to go back?"

Snape didn't say anything, just reached into his breast pocket and pulled out a torn page from the Daily Prophet.

It was just the top headline, but it was more than enough.

TRAITOR TO THE WIZARDING WORLD
Wizengamot proclaims Harry Potter Guilty of Darkest Magic

Underneath was a picture of him, framed on either side by a sketch of the Veil in the Department of Ministries and a photograph showing several smooth, oval stones etched with symbols Harry didn't recognize.

Harry tore his eyes away from the page and looked up at Snape. "What did I do?"

Snape looked as though he was considering answering, and then seemed to think better of it after all. "It doesn't matter. I showed you this because this is what you can expect should you decide to go back."

There was nothing to say to that.

"If you decide to go back, you would have to stay as you are now. As your normal self, you would be hunted down and killed, probably along with anyone foolish enough to shelter you. If you --"

"Then," Harry interrupted, his voice coming out strangled, "I don't want to go back. No one should have to be in danger because of me."

"As I was saying," Snape continued deliberately, as though Harry hadn't interrupted, "if you remain as you are now, you would most likely be as safe as any other child is at the moment." He looked at Harry darkly. "I need not tell you that this is not a guarantee that you will, in fact, be safe."

"I get it," Harry said. His throat was still constricted, and he didn't think he could say again what he needed to say. He wished Snape would just leave.

Snape ignored him. "Very few people are in position to take in a child right now. For the few who are, there are more than enough orphans to go around. You would not be among friends. If you harbor any hope that Molly Weasley would take you in --"

"No," Harry cut in forcefully. "I wouldn't let her, anyway. I've done enough to that family."

For a moment, he thought he saw a fleeting look on Snape's face. It was almost akin to pity.

But he must have imagined it, because Snape ignored his outburst again.

"Neither is Lupin in any position to help you. Nor McGonagall, nor any others still on staff at Hogwarts. You would be friendless, and reliant upon the charity and good will of those who choose to risk taking you in."

"Did you not hear me?" Harry exploded. "I don't want to put anyone in danger! Just leave me here!"

Snape was silent for a long time. Long enough for Harry to start thinking unreasonable thoughts.

"Do you want to take me back for some reason?"

Snape looked away. "If it were up to me...."

"You just said those were my options! Are you saying that I have to go back?"

"No. I'm saying..." Snape looked sour, his mouth thinning. "Lupin has paid for your return. Paid me, personally, that I should take you if he were unable." He glared at Harry, as though it had been Harry's own idea. "I should have known then that he was up to something. It was right after that mutt of a godfather of yours got himself killed. He asked me what I wanted in exchange for my promise to become your guardian if none other was available. As he had recently helped me out of a difficulty, I had no choice but to make the bargain. I asked for ten vials of dragon's blood and a book I thought to have been destroyed years ago, feeling safe in the knowledge that he would never be able to deliver."

Harry understood the glare now. The money for both items had come from the Potter vault, not Lupin's own. "It doesn't matter, because I'm not going back with you," he said bravely.

"Very well," Snape said, with what Harry took to be a sigh of relief. "If that is your decision."

"It is," Harry said before his throat closed up completely.

Snape looked closely at him. "You will have to make a clean break. You will not attempt to contact anyone who knew you as Harry Potter, and you will not turn up in any place where someone might recognize you. While there are a few other spells I can use to change your appearance, there is a risk of such changes being obvious to those who are powerful enough. Your appearance will remain too similar for comfort."

Harry nodded. It was all he could do.

"Give me the ring. You will not be needing it."

Harry slipped the ring from his finger, looking at its vibrant green one last time. He guessed that without it, his eyes could not be returned to their original color.

Snape pocketed the ring, and then tapped Harry's head with his wand. "Grow your hair out until it's over your ears. It should be enough of a change, and a natural one."

Harry nodded again. Snape was turning to go... if he wanted to change his mind, he needed to say something now....

But he did not say a word, and Snape, his robes swishing around the heels of his black boots, walked out of the dining hall without a backwards glance.

Harry sank into his seat, his legs no longer able to hold him.

The thought hit him quite suddenly.

It wasn't that he hadn't taken it in, but seeing his own name in the headline had muddled his reasoning.

They were blaming him for something he hadn't done. But Lupin had. Whatever they thought Harry had done -- and it seemed to have to do with the Veil -- Lupin had done.

And Snape had told him with no hesitation that Lupin was not all right.

Harry knew he could never make a clean break if he didn't know.

With that knowledge, he was running, skidding on a rug, pulling open the heavy front door --

The bright sunshine blinded him for a moment as he looked wildly around the empty front yard.

Too late.

Too late.

"Changed your mind?"

Harry whirled, and there was Snape, leaning against the wall with his arms folded over his chest, as though he had expected Harry to do just that.

"No -- I mean, I --"

"Well?"

"I need to know what happened to Lupin."

"Always thinking of others last, aren't you?" Snape said cruelly.

"I need to know."

Snape paused for a drawn-out moment. "He was caught."

"Is he still alive?"

"Not for much longer."

Harry shook his head, less in disbelief than from a need to disallow the thought from fully settling into his brain. "Isn't anyone planning to help him? The Order?"

"The Order --" Snape sneered, "-- if the few of us who are still left can still carry that title, has enough on its hands. Lupin got himself into this. We would lose more good people if we attempted to break him out. And then what?" he spat viciously. "Am I to hide him and you? Am I to take that kind of risk?"

"You... you'd let him die," Harry said, still shaking his head, unable to stop. His eyes burned. "You'd --"

"A lot of people have died," Snape said bitterly. "More will die before this is over. Lupin isn't expecting rescue."

"That makes it all right?"

He was unprepared for Snape to snarl at him, and stumbled backwards as Snape brought his suddenly livid face within inches of Harry's.

"You think it's all right to demand this of me? You think I should risk my life for you and your worthless friends? Can I expect your undying gratitude?" He narrowed his eyes. "I don't think so. I know exactly what I can expect -- endless disobedience, disrespect, and disregard for my safety and your own. If it were just you, Merlin help me, I would do it, but there's a limit to my generosity!"

Finished, he straightened, breathing hard and his lips a thin line, clearly finding it a struggle to reel in his rage.

Harry stared at him.

He knew it was useless, but he couldn't help himself.

"Maybe... someone else would take him. I mean, if it's just to keep anyone from finding him --"

Snape turned his black eyes back to Harry. "There is no one else. No one who wants a werewolf living in their cellar indefinitely. No one who's willing to get that werewolf out of an Azkaban cell first. No one who's good enough to pull it off even if they were willing."

"You are," Harry said stubbornly. He knew perfectly well it was useless.

Snape looked off into the distance, and didn't reply.

"If it was you," Harry continued accusingly, "wouldn't you want someone to come for you? Oh, wait... he did."

A muscle tightened in Snape's jaw.

Harry waited. There wasn't anything else he could think to say.

"If you must know," Snape said grimly, "a rescue is planned. I wasn't going to get involved... Damn fools, can't leave well enough alone... The lot of them are marching off to the slaughter."

Harry's heart soared and fell. A rescue meant hope, but Snape was right -- it also meant lives on the line. Who was close enough to Lupin to want to help him in spite of the danger?

"If I take you back..."

Harry looked up. What was Snape saying?

"I expect unwaivering obedience. You will not whine. You will not throw fits. You will cooperate."

Despite the hard tone, Harry could see Snape did not expect any such thing to happen.

He wanted to promise he would do all of those things, but he knew Snape thought too little of him to believe it.

"Come along," Snape said at last. Without waiting for Harry to comply, he started down the porch steps.

Harry trailed after him, throwing just one last look over his shoulder at the place that had almost been home.

"I knew you wouldn't stick to it," Snape commented. "Too fickle-minded and weak-willed."

Harry chose not to say anything, but at that moment, despite knowing that going back would put him and others in terrible danger, he was overwhelmed by inexplicable joy. He was going back, whether he belonged or not.

"I suppose you think that was a compliment?" Snape sneered, obviously mistaking Harry's grin as having something to do with his last words.

Harry shook his head. No, it hadn't been one, but he was glad Snape thought that of him, and had waited, sure that Harry would change his mind.

They Apparated again and again. Snape's hold on Harry was painful.

Harry looked blearily around. The room was a mess, and the rug stained with what he took to be blood.

"Whose house is this?"

Snape didn't answer him; he was already at the fireplace, taking down a pot of Floo powder.

A dizzying minute later they were in the Hogwarts infirmary.

Madam Pomfrey was already hurrying toward them by the time Harry picked himself up off the floor; Snape's hold on his arm had lasted only until their arrival, and he had allowed Harry to stumble and fall. Worse, at some point he had taken Harry's glasses, and the familiar room was blurred.

"Another one, Severus?" Pomfrey asked. She sounded a little hysterical. "Kingsley brought in four not an hour ago...."

"This one is not hurt," Snape told her, "but will need to be questioned. Where is Minerva?"

"In there," Pomfrey said, motioning toward a door. "If you don't need me, I have patients to get back to."

"Go ahead."

She paused. "We're low on Dreamless Sleep again."

"I have some in my stores. Help yourself."

"Thank you. I take it you will be leaving again shortly?"

Snape shrugged noncommittally. "The potions are there. Use them."

She thanked him again and hurried away.

"Come along," Snape said, taking Harry by the elbow and steering him toward a door.

"I can't see," Harry muttered mutinously. It really was very disconcerting to have to trust Snape this way.

"Be quiet."

McGonagall was at a table, folding clean towels and sheets. She looked up tiredly as they came in, her wand still raised in a half-completed swish. "Severus?" She frowned, looking at Harry. "Is that...?"

"Yes," Snape said, returning Harry's glasses.

McGonagall sighed, and a sudden smile broke over her tired face. "You found him. Thank God."

Snape scowled. Harry could see he didn't think God had had much to do with it.

"You just missed Kingsley." McGonagall leaned heavily against the table, her shoulders stooped. Her hair was matted on one side, as though her last sleep had been cut short and she'd not had the chance to freshen up. "He had some news --" She raised an eyebrow meaningfully. "They're getting ready."

"I see. I should catch up with him, then."

She looked surprised. "Have you changed your mind?"

Snape pretended not to have heard the question. "If you could do something about his glasses, the boy could join the other children. Or maybe make himself useful --" He glared at Harry. "Though I doubt he will be anything but in the way."

Harry waited patiently while McGonagall looked him over.

"The glasses must go," she said at last. "They're a dead giveaway."

"I will be needing them, in any case," Snape said.

McGonagall looked at him shrewdly. "I won't ask what you have planned. Take them now."

Harry sighed glumly as his glasses were removed again.

"Ask Poppy for a new pair," McGonagall told Snape. "I can adjust the prescription myself and then we will see about a disguise or disillusionment of some sort."

Snape left the room.

"Oh, Harry." Harry found himself suddenly enveloped in a bony hug. "You don't know how worried we've all been." She pulled away and held him at arm's length. "Now, have you come up with a new name for yourself? The greatest danger is for you to give yourself away accidentally."

"Lupin's done it. Some kind of spell. I can't say my real name even if I want to."

She smiled weakly. "That's one less thing to worry about, then. What's the name?"

Harry sighed. No escaping it. "James."

She stared at him blankly for a moment. "Oh dear. I had thought Remus had more sense. This is quite unfortunate...."

"What's unfortunate?" asked Snape, who had returned, carrying a pair of thin-rimmed spectacles similar to the ones McGonagall herself wore.

McGonagall looked at Harry, and then reluctantly at Snape again. She took the glasses, and after a wave of her wand slipped them onto Harry's nose. "His name."

"Well? What about it?" Snape demanded irritably. He turned on Harry. "Say your name, Potter."

It was the last thing Harry wanted to do, but with Snape now glaring at him for his hesitation, he didn't see much choice. "James," he said with resignation.

Snape visibly recoiled.

"It's not my fault!" Harry said quickly.

"Unfortunately," McGonagall said with obvious reluctance, "these spells are not my area of expertise."

"Nor mine," Snape said. Harry thought he was more pale than normal.

"It will have to do," McGonagall said helplessly. "What a terrible choice."

Snape looked like he agreed, but said nothing. He seemed to be clenching his teeth.

There was a short silence before McGonagall apparently decided that nothing more could be done. "Well, let's take a look at these glasses."

Harry found himself in front of a mirror.

The combination of Lupin's changes and Snape's had resulted in a look that was at least a slight departure from James. His hair was longer, or possibly just appeared that way because it had been straightened.

McGonagall tried out several spells, each of which Snape rejected as too easy to detect. Finally....

"I look like I'm wearing eyeliner," Harry protested.

"Hmm," said Snape, rubbing his chin.

"Not bad, and can't be detected for what it is. Children these days are prey to many odd fashion notions."

"I agree; very subtle."

Harry looked from one to the other and tried not to scowl. They were helping him, and he was determined to cooperate since it was for his protection.

They were satisfied at last.

"I want him in my quarters for the night, should I fail to return by then," Snape told McGonagall. "I expect you'll manage if...?"

Harry felt a shudder go through him as he realized what they were discussing.

"I expect so." McGonagall's eyes looked watery, and she put her hand suddenly on Snape's shoulder. "But you will be coming back, of course."

"I will do what I can, as I always have."

And without a look at Harry, Snape walked out the door.

McGonagall sat down on a footstool and squeezed her eyes shut.

"Are you all right?" Harry asked tentatively when she hadn't moved after a few moments.

She shocked him by laughing shrilly.

When she stopped, she shook her head. "No. I'm afraid none of us are all right these days." She stood up and went back to the task of folding endless stacks of white towels and sheets. "Go on out. There are other children here, and you will stand out less if you're among them."

Harry moved to the door, but stopped. "Can I ask you something?"

She nodded, not looking up.

"Me being here... is it likely going to get people killed?"

She rubbed her eyes wearily. "People are being killed with or without you here."

"Is it true Professor Snape is being forced to become my guardian?"

McGonagall looked up this time. Something of her old piercing gaze returned as she looked at Harry. "I'm afraid there isn't much choice in the matter... so few of us left... and I dare say it will be a dreadful mess. Professor Snape never should have been asked to do this..." She shook her head, lips pursed. "But there is no choice."

Harry nodded, and, when she didn't say anything more, slipped out the door.

Snape was still in the infirmary, apparently held up by Madam Pomfrey. He was examining a glass jar filled with reddish liquid.

Harry, not knowing where else to go, started to move toward him.

"Out of the way, please, little boy," a familiar drawl said from behind him.

Harry spun around, and there was Malfoy, carrying an armload of blankets.

He would have gaped, but a hand closed rather painfully on his shoulder. Snape's voice hissed, "Do anything to reveal yourself and I'll throw you to the Dementors myself. Now sit," into his ear, and he was pushed toward an unoccupied hospital bed.

He climbed onto it, trying hard not to look at Malfoy again, even when Malfoy dropped the pile of blankets on the bed next to him.

"Draco. A word," Snape said, beckoning him over. "I've spoken to your father. He needs your decision."

Harry saw Malfoy swallow hard.

"I haven't made up my mind. No, don't tell him that. Tell him I'm busy here, and can't get away."

"You will need to make up your mind. It's a simple decision. Stay or go."

Malfoy scowled. "I stay, and I probably die. I go, and I can never come back. It's not simple. He wants it to be simple, when it's not."

Snape didn't say anything for a moment, just looked at Malfoy with an unreadable expression. "He's your father."

Malfoy sighed. "And that's why I'll go, and you know that."

"I know," Snape said quietly.

To Harry's shock, Malfoy launched himself at Snape, burying his head in Snape's shoulder.

"You'll be fine," Snape said after tolerating the embrace for a minute. He pushed Malfoy away gently. "You made it this far."

Malfoy rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand and nodded.

"I'm leaving now, and I may not be back before you go. If that's the case, I wish you a speedy and safe journey."

Malfoy stared after Snape bleakly, his hand still raised in a parting gesture, until the doors had shut behind him.

Harry jumped down from the bed and hurried in the opposite direction.

The hospital wing was not as crowded as had been his first impression, but he still carefully avoided the adults in the room. No one paid any attention to him; everyone who was there was either injured or sitting by the bedside of someone who was. A few older Hogwarts students, like Malfoy, were carrying things at Pomfrey's order. Harry thought he recognized a Hufflepuff sixth year who was refilling water jugs, and avoided her, too.

He wanted to help, but he didn't want to run into Malfoy again, or anyone else who might know him. Besides, he didn't see any other young children helping out, and he reminded himself that he needed to fit in. He saw a group of children in a corner, playing with what looked like Muggle marbles, and joined them, sitting on the side and watching them.

It gave him a chance to think, at least.

Being back at Hogwarts -- closed though it was -- filled him with a feeling of belonging, as though he had truly come home. For the first time, he considered what it might be like to go through his school years all over again, as he might have to do if Snape was serious about Harry having to remain a child for the foreseeable future.

Then again, chances are he would be returned to his normal age and would have to go into hiding with Lupin again.

If Snape saved Lupin.

It was torture to not know what Snape's intentions were. Harry was trying hard not to think about it. If Snape wouldn't do it, there were still the other Order members. Snape had said that a rescue was planned despite Snape's unwillingness to personally get involved.

He wondered, too, if Snape really would have left him at the orphanage, or if it had been a ploy to make Harry think he had a choice when he really didn't. What for, except to be able to remind him it had been his choice to return to the wizarding world?

He didn't see Snape bearing down on him until Snape was standing over him, looking displeased.

Harry scrambled to his feet.

"You might exercise some vigilance," Snape growled as Harry tried to keep up with him as they left the hospital wing, heading for the dungeons.

Harry couldn't bear not knowing. "Lupin?"

Snape whirled on him, hissing, "Shut up, you idiot!"

Harry hunched his shoulders. "Sorry."

They were in Snape's office, where Snape dropped several envelopes onto his desk before taking off his heavy traveling cloak. He seemed to be ignoring Harry deliberately.

Harry looked around. The familiar office was more cluttered than usual, with empty potions jars and bottles littering every available surface.

With a jolt, he saw two boxes in a corner.

His things, and Lupin's books.

He had to restrain himself.

Snape sat down at his desk and began to sort through a tall stack of unopened letters and rolls of parchment.

"Sit."

Harry moved a crate of empty glass jars off the bench in front of Snape's desk, making enough room to perch uncomfortably on the edge.

He was just beginning to think that Snape had forgotten he was there -- Snape swore upon opening a particularly fat letter and was now writing a response that spanned two feet of parchment -- when the door opened and McGonagall came in.

"Poppy told me you were back," she said when Snape raised his head with a scowl. "Has something gone wrong?"

"The Ministry is a bit busy at the moment. You will know soon enough; for now it's safer that you don't. Meanwhile, the execution has been postponed until morning."

Execution. Harry swallowed hard.

"I see," McGonagall said faintly. "That does complicate matters."

"Yes. We will have a devil of a time getting in there now, and we've lost Kingsley... he has no business at the Ministry at that time of day. We had to bring Tonks in on it." Snape grimaced. "I have very little confidence in this plan's chances of success."

"But you'll still try?" Harry couldn't help exclaiming.

Snape sent a glare his way. "Yes, Potter, the suicide mission is still on."

"Now, Severus..." McGonagall began, but cut herself off with a sigh, rubbing her forehead. "We'll have to do something about his name, Severus. You wouldn't want to call him 'Potter', and I fear the temptation will be great."

Snape considered this while fixing another glare on Harry. "I'll take care of it. Did Lupin saddle him with an equally disagreeable surname?"

Harry shook his head, even though the question was for McGonagall.

"No, just the first."

Snape shuffled some papers and consulted what looked like a long list of names and dates.

"McKenna. Listed as missing, but we know them to be dead."

"We still have access to family records?"

"Yes," Snape said, putting the parchment down. "I'll make the changes."

"In that case, I --"

She didn't get to finish. The door burst open and Pomfrey, red-faced and completely out of breath, stumbled in.

"Minerva -- oh, God..."

Both McGonagall and Snape were on their feet, McGonagall grabbing the nurse under an elbow to prevent her from collapsing. "What is it, Poppy?"

"It's... it's Harry Potter." Pomfrey's face twisted in pain. "They got him -- oh, Minerva, they got him!"

McGonagall's face went stark, and she threw a glance over her shoulder at Snape, who had visibly relaxed and was putting away his wand, even as she enveloped the nurse in a comforting embrace.

"What happened, Poppy?" McGonagall asked, lowering a weeping Pomfrey onto the bench Harry had quickly vacated.

Pomfrey blew her nose on the handkerchief Snape had handed her. "It... it was on the wireless only moments ago. Aurors hunted him down... They said... the body could barely be identified when it was brought to St. Mungo's." She blew her nose again. "But it's him. They know, because of his glasses and his wand." She shook her head, tears streaming down her face. "Snapped! The same wand that ended You-Know-Who...."

Harry's stomach contracted painfully. His wand had been snapped?

"Poppy... Poppy, are you saying he's dead?"

"Yes! Dead, the poor dear!" Pomfrey dissolved into loud sobs.

He now understood the exchange between Snape and McGonagall earlier. Snape had taken his glasses... Snape had somehow faked Harry's death... the Order still had members who were active Aurors....

He felt terrible. How many people would believe he was dead? It was one thing to go into hiding, and quite another to cause this much pain to others for the sake of keeping himself safe. If Pomfrey, whom he had never thought of as more than just the school's nurse, was affected like this....

Snape had apparently had enough; motioning Harry to follow him, he left the office, leaving McGonagall to handle the unpleasant scene.

They were deeper in the dungeons now, and Snape stopped before an empty section of damp stone wall, muttered a password, and stepped through a door that appeared and swung open silently in front of them.

Harry followed, and the door closed behind him.

He was in Snape's personal quarters. It was cold and sparsely furnished, though just as cluttered as the office had been. Dirty cauldrons were piled against the walls, while most of the space was taken up by what appeared to be a hastily-assembled potions laboratory. A single cauldron still simmered over a low flame.

Snape checked the potion, stirred it a few times, and frowned. He added a spoonful yellow powder from a jar, causing the potion to boil furiously for a few moments.

"You faked my death."

Snape looked up, one eyebrow slightly raised. "I did."

"Whose body was it?"

"A Muggle. Dementor attacks have been as common as ever. I had no trouble picking out one fitting your description."

Harry shuddered. What he heard between the lines was that the Muggle had still been alive. Devoid of his soul, but still living. Had Snape dealt the deadly blow?

Snape seemed to be quite satisfied with himself, and continued. "Aside from having to involve that klutz Tonks as a decoy, it can be counted among my best work. Auror Jones -- a Death Eater still escaping detection -- was first on the scene. Congratulations, Potter, you died a heroic death after all."

Harry scowled at him. He didn't see anything amusing in the situation.

"With both your glasses and your wand found on the body, I expect the case will be closed quickly."

"Does anyone else know I'm still alive?"

"Safer that they don't."

Harry nodded glumly.

"Look at me, Potter."

Harry looked up. Snape's expression was hard. "I know what you're thinking. No, you will not make any effort to inform your friends."

"I wasn't going --"

"In fact," Snape continued, louder, "you will not attempt to contact them for any reason whatsoever."

"I get it, all right? I won't put them in danger."

Snape's face flashed with anger. "You won't put me in danger, Potter, or the next body to be found --"

"Will be mine. I get it," Harry muttered.

This seemed to make Snape even angrier, and Harry realized he had already managed to disobey Snape's demand that he be respectful and not throw fits.

"Sorry, sir. That was rude."

As expected, this did nothing to appease Snape. He began to clear off the cluttered table with vicious vigor.

It wasn't until he saw Snape glance at the clock that Harry wondered if Snape was more worried about the rescue mission than he had revealed in his office.

"Professor?"

"What?" Snape snapped at him, stopping what he was doing to glare directly at him.

"Will you be able to get Lupin out?"

"If those useless fools do their part and let me do mine."

There was a knock at the door.

"Open it," Snape told Harry.

Harry let McGonagall in.

"I've managed to calm Poppy enough that she's able to return to work," she told Snape with a slightly reproachful look, which Snape ignored. "I came to see if you will be joining us in the Great Hall."

"No, I won't be. But take Potter."

"Do work on that spell, Severus," McGonagall said firmly. "Now, do you need anything from me? Anything I can help with?"

"No," Snape said, crossing his arms in front of his chest and looking sour. "Unless you would like to tell me how I came to agree to this?"

She smiled weakly. "I'm afraid I'm still not sure myself. Well, if you're sure you don't need anything, I should go back up. I'm sure the news has upset a lot of people."

"Just as many will be happy to hear that the Ministry has eliminated another perceived threat."

McGonagall's eyes flashed. "No reasonable person believed those vicious lies. I'm more concerned about the boost this will undoubtedly give the Death Eaters. The demise of Harry Potter will surely be seen as a blow to our side."

"I doubt it. Most of the attacks have been perpetrated either to exact revenge or in the hopes of getting to Potter. It could just as easily take the heat off those thought likely to be harboring him."

McGonagall pursed her lips. "What's done is done. I don't doubt the job was thorough, and I for one will be glad not to have to worry about the Ministry coming down on us, as well as Death Eaters." She turned to go, but paused before taking more than a few steps. "Be careful, Severus. We can't afford more loses... and I have buried enough friends. Come along, James."

It took Harry a moment to realize she meant him, and he trotted after her, trying not to look at Snape, whose face had contorted into an ugly grimace.

In the corridor, she slowed down so that he could keep up.

"I hope you realize what a difficult position he has put himself in."

Harry tried to look properly grateful, and nodded, but he wasn't sure he really understood. He knew Snape was putting himself in danger by harboring him, and would put himself in greater danger still by attempting to get Lupin out of Azkaban, but Snape had always been in danger from one thing or another. They all had been. Of course... Snape didn't want him, or care very much what happened to him. Having to put up with Harry must have been the last thing Snape wanted to do. And Harry knew Snape hated Lupin just about nearly as much as he hated Harry.

"Professor? What's going to happen to me?"

She stopped abruptly, and Harry almost bumped into her.

"I mean," he said quickly, "I thought I'd be going into hiding with Lupin again --"

"No, no; that would never work now," McGonagall said, shaking her head and starting off again toward the dungeon stairs. "You'll stay here, all of you."

So Snape really was going to hide both of them. Harry sighed.

"And be grateful," McGonagall added irritably. "I can't begin to understand why he agreed to do this, honestly. All that bad blood... all that bad history...."

They had reached the entrance hall, and Harry didn't have a chance to ask any more questions.

He had been worried about having dinner among so many people, but McGonagall left him at a table set for the younger children. Harry found himself relaxing and even enjoying the food. It had been a while since he'd had a truly good meal.

The children talked in subdued tones, and Harry listened in. There were sad stories all around. Some didn't know where their families were. Some were at Hogwarts because someone in their family was injured. Some -- from either side of the fighting -- were there because there was no other place for them to go. A few had been brought by parents who didn't know how else to protect them. Even those who had been relatively lucky had suffered being uprooted from homes destroyed or unsafe to return to.

For the very first time ever, Harry felt a sort of ugly gladness that his parents had died while he was too young to know them. He wouldn't know the pain of losing them in this war, like some of these children had lost their parents. He had lost Sirius, and that had been almost too much for him.

It was too much. He knew none of the children around him would ever be the same, just like he would never be same again.

He had only one moment of panic, when a girl sitting next to him asked what had happened to him.

The McKenna family -- what had Snape said? Listed as missing.

That's what he told her, and was glad when she didn't ask for details. He would have to find out who those people had been, if he was going to be pretending they were his family.

McGonagall took him back to the dungeons after dinner was over.

Snape barely looked up, busy tending six cauldrons that boiled and steamed. "Sit down, Mr. McKenna, and do not touch anything."

Harry guessed by the way Snape's lip curled over the name that he was really saying 'Potter.' He sat down on the only relatively empty chair, though he had to shift a box of stained rags to the floor first.

McGonagall looked approvingly at Snape. "I see you found a spell you could use, Severus... that's a load off my mind, truly. I would have hated to have to bring in Filius. The fewer people who know --"

"The better," Snape finished with her. "Yes. I admit it isn't working quite as well as I would like. Obviously I cannot outright prevent myself from saying the name Harry Potter, which would have been the simpler method. Intent spells are tricky by nature. I will still have to be cautious."

"I have no doubt you will be. Choosing your words carefully is not a foreign notion to you. If you keep your temper in check, we will get through this yet."

Snape scowled. Harry figured if Snape's ability to keep his temper was the only thing keeping them from being discovered by the Ministry, they were all doomed.

"I will leave you to your work," McGonagall said. She hesitated by the door. "Should I not see you again before you leave... good luck and God speed to you." She turned to Harry, and he saw that her eyes were bright with unshed tears. "James, mind Professor Snape, and come and find me if you need anything."

The door had barely closed behind her when Snape narrowed his eyes at Harry and said, "You will not run to McGonagall for anything, is that understood? She has no reason to take a greater interest in a child under my care than she takes in any of the other children staying at Hogwarts. Undue familiarity will only draw attention to you."

"I won't, sir," Harry said, not seeing any reason to fight.

Snape turned back to his potions, one of which had almost boiled over. "There are some cleaning supplies in the cabinet behind you. Start scrubbing cauldrons."

Harry almost demanded to know what he had done, before realizing it wasn't a punishment. Snape needed those cauldrons to make potions that would be used to treat patients in the hospital wing.

"Yes, sir," he said, and set to the long and dull task.

He hated scrubbing cauldrons more than anything. It reminded him of chores he'd had to do at the Dursleys, like washing greasy pots and pans, scrubbing the kitchen floor, polishing the stair railing and the silver... the list was endless.

His arms went from aching to numb and heavy before he had made much progress. Still, it kept Snape off his back and he felt like he was doing something useful. It had occurred to him that Snape must have taken considerable time away from his potions in order to find Harry and fetch him from the orphanage.

It seemed to him that time was passing rather slowly, but suddenly Snape was depositing more filthy cauldrons on top of the stack Harry had yet to get to, and taking his traveling cloak down from the coat rack.

Harry scrambled to his feet. "Are you leaving?"

"I agreed to meet with Shacklebolt early, since our plans have changed drastically. Supper will be sent down for you, so you will have no reason to leave my quarters. I don't expect to be back before mid-morning... if I'm back at all."

A shiver raced down Harry's spine.

"Do not meddle with my potions or ingredients, and do not enter my bedroom."

Harry nodded. "Yes, sir."

Snape drew a breath and held it for a long time before letting it out slowly. "I expect it's useless to remind you of our agreement. However, I will ask you to keep one thing in mind."

Harry looked up, waiting. He didn't tell Snape that he hadn't forgotten what they'd agreed to, and that he was trying. That would be useless; Snape would never believe it.

"I have agreed to take on this thankless and unpalatable task, for reasons that I do not care to share with you. If you choose to be your usual uncooperative, disobedient self, it is most likely that we will all end up dead or in Azkaban." He looked down at Harry with glittering, hard eyes. "There is no one left to come to our rescue should that happen."

"I understand," Harry said, swallowing. "I get it. I won't do anything to put anyone in danger. I'll be cooperative, if you'll tell me what to do, and not just expect me to know, somehow."

"That hasn't worked very well in the past," Snape said with irritation. "Your response to being told to do something has tended to be to do the opposite, or to go on doing just what you wanted in your usual bullheaded way."

Harry figured it really was useless. He sighed heavily and tried not to let his temper show. "I'm trying to change that, sir."

Snape hesitated. Harry was surprised he considered Harry's words for even a second. "This isn't a game. Trying might not be good enough."

Harry knew it wasn't a game. People he cared about had died. Were still dying. Sometimes because of something Harry had done, or hadn't done well enough, or just because he had been in the wrong place at the wrong time. He looked down at the floor and didn't reply.

Snape caught him under the chin and forced his head up. Harry had no choice but to look at him. "I'm telling you this because I find myself faced with the possibility of being unable to control this situation."

Harry frowned. Snape made it sound like he wasn't up to the job. Which, Harry realized, could very well be true, if there really hadn't been anyone else who could, or would, take it on.

"Are you listening?"

Harry nodded. "Yes, sir."

"It could very well turn out that you have more control than I."

Harry had no idea what Snape was talking about, but he nodded again, and Snape let him go.

"Stay inside and don't open the door for anyone, including Pomfrey and McGonagall."

Harry watched Snape go, wishing he could say something, anything, other than the feeble "Good luck, sir," that he didn't think Snape had heard.

If Snape saved Lupin, Harry would do anything -- and he didn't need Snape to believe it for it to be true.

He went back to the cauldrons, because Snape hadn't said he could stop scrubbing now that he was by himself, and because it was the only thing he could think of to do to keep himself busy. He knew with perfect certainty that he wouldn't be sleeping that night. Not until he knew if the rescue had succeeded.

It had to.

Like McGonagall had said, they had lost too many good people, buried too many friends, and they just couldn't afford to lose anyone else.

He looked at the cauldrons, and at the table that Snape had left clean but ready to resume potions making. A single small cauldron still simmered over a low flame at one end.

They couldn't afford to lose Snape. St. Mungo's had been useless for months, and the simplest potions took days to arrive by owl. People depended on Snape.

He scrubbed harder, and ignored the creeping hands of the clock and the weariness slowly creeping over his body.

He wouldn't rest.

Not until he knew.