"If you would like to come to dinner in the Great Hall tonight, I think it would be all right," Snape remarked late one afternoon. Ron and Hermione had not come that day as the Weasleys had finally been able to go to Diagon Alley, accompanied by several Ministry Aurors, so the Potions professor and Harry had spent the better part of the day matching wits in a chess tournament. Snape had won, as usual, but Harry had played well and was feeling encouraged.

It was the last day of August. Tomorrow evening students would arrive and the new school year would officially commence. Most of the professors had already returned to the castle though, and an informal feast was planned for them, and the Weasley family who were still at Hogwarts, too.

At Snape's words, Harry bit his lip, feeling torn. It would be fun to go up to the Hall and see everyone. Although he didn't really mind staying in Snape's rooms, he had been confined to them for a month and it would be wonderful just to get out for a while.

But he still had to be fed, and Harry didn't think he could stand having a crowd see that. It was all very well for Dumbledore to talk about how accepting help was a part of maturity. He was even right, Harry knew. But Dumbledore wasn't the one who had to put up with being spoon fed, either.

"I don't know, sir," he said slowly. "I would like to. I really would, but...."

"I could make you a nutritive potion to drink," Snape offered. "The taste is actually rather pleasant, as far as potions go. You wouldn't be able to eat the food at the feast, unfortunately, but you could go up to the Hall and see people, if you wish."

"Yes, please. That'd be great." Harry hesitated. "If it's not too much trouble."

"It's no trouble." Snape stood and headed to his office. "Why don't you look through your trunk and find something besides pajamas to wear while I fix this up?"

Harry went back to the bedroom and sat down on the bed. Snape had charmed pretty much everything to respond to his voice, so he just murmered an incantation and his trunk in the corner of the room opened and a pile of clothes flew over to land beside him. He was trying to decide between a dark blue shirt and gray trousers or a green shirt and khaki trousers when the professor joined him.

"What in the name of all that is magical are those?" Snape demanded.

Startled, Harry looked up to see him staring at several positively enormous, and quite dirty, old shirts and torn blue jeans.

With an expression of supreme distaste, Snape held one of the shirts aloft between his thumb and forefinger. "This could not possibly fit you, Harry. So why have you been trying to clothe a baby elephant?"

Harry snickered. "Those are my cousin Dudley's old things. And I've always thought he was more the size of a baby killer whale."

"Hmm." Snape let the shirt fall back on the bed. "So why do you have your cousin's rags in your trunk?"

"Oh," Harry shrugged, trying to appear casual. "Well, that's what I wear in the summer, when I'm with the Dursleys."

"Why?" And then a look of understanding passed over Snape's face. "Oh. Is this an example of them ‘being mean' to you? To not provide you with proper clothes?"

"Yeah." Harry looked down again, not sure why he was suddenly embarrassed. He'd already admitted what the Dursleys were like to Snape.

"Why are they so dirty?"

Harry shrugged again. "Well, I washed them, but they are work clothes and a lot of the stains just haven't come out."

"And what kind of work did you do?"

Harry considered not answering, but Snape's voice was soft and gentle, and Harry was certain that he would not use any of this information against him. He didn't know exactly when he'd come to realize that, but somehow, he knew Snape would never taunt him about the Dursleys. Maybe about other things, but not the Dursleys.

"I don't know. Everything. I did all the yard work and house work and cooking and cleaning. All that stuff."

"And what were your relatives doing while you were slaving for them?" There was an undercurrent of anger in Snape's voice now.

"Uncle Vernon was at his job most of the day, thank goodness, and Aunt Petunia was busy with her clubs and shopping. Dudley watched the telly when he wasn't out bullying little kids or making me miserable."

Deciding that he'd said all he wanted to say about the Dursleys for now, Harry added. "And don't ask me what he did to make me miserable. There isn't enough time in a year to go into that, and I don't want to talk about it anymore, anyway. Please, sir."

With a contemptuous flick of his wand, Snape Vanished all of Dudley's hand-me-downs, leaving Harry agape.

"Hey! Sir!" He exclaimed, half angry and half wanting to laugh.

"Don't tell me that you're attached to those pathetic garments," Snape huffed.

"I'll need them for next summer!"

"No, you won't." Snape's voice was almost dangerous again.

Harry blinked at him, suddenly realizing that Snape was being...protective of him. He felt a glowing warmth deep in his heart, and had to swallow before saying huskily, "Yeah, I will. I have to live there, at least until I'm seventeen. There's blood wards cause of my mum and aunt being sisters, so Voldemort can't reach me there. Dumbledore explained it all to me."

Snape sank onto the bed beside him and laid his arm around Harry's shoulders. He'd done that several times lately. The warm feeling spread throughout Harry's chest.

"We will discuss it in more detail later," the professor said firmly. "But I'm quite certain that something can be done to protect you from your relatives as well. And it will be."

He turned to examine the remaining pile of clothes. "These are all nice enough."

Harry nodded. "Yes, I bought those for myself. Do you like the blue shirt or the green one better?"

A short while later Harry was dressed in the green shirt and khaki trousers (Snape, of course, liked the green shirt better. But what could you expect from a Slytherin, Harry figured), and went back out to the living room to find Snape waiting for him, a bottle filled with amber liquid in his hand.

"Are you ready? We'll Floo up so you don't have to walk very far. Say, ‘Right chamber off the Great Hall." The professor took some powder from a small vase on the high mantel and motioned Harry to come forward. Harry took the powder and threw it down as he stepped into the fireplace and called out the directions. There was a whoosh of emerald flame, and an instant later, he was stumbling out into a small bare room with only the fireplace, a couple of lit torches fastened to the wall and a narrow closed doorway.

The room was barren, but Harry still felt a thrill of excitement at being out of the dungeons at long last. He steadied himself and looked about, but before he had time to notice much, there was another blaze and Snape was there.

"Let's see your arms, Harry."

Harry obediently held them out, and Snape carefully rolled the sleeves back to make sure that the bandages on Harry's arms were still pristine.

"Very well, then. Here you are." The professor gave Harry his potion and stepped towards the door, adding, "I presume you'll sit with your friends, but if your arms should begin to bleed, tell me at once."

"I will."

Then they were through the door and in the Great Hall, bright with hovering candles and the setting sun which could be seen both from the windows and from the enchanted ceiling overhead. Instead of the four long House tables, though, there were two smaller tables set up in the middle and a group of approximately thirty people were milling about around them, the Hogwarts' staff, except for Hagrid, and Mr. and Mrs. Weasley.

"Mr. Potter!"

It was Professor McGonagall hurrying towards them. Like Snape, she wore dark robes, but she had a tartan shawl draped over her shoulders and fastened with a ruby brooch. She was smiling, and Harry was surprised to see tears in her eyes. He was even more surprised when she embraced him. Should he hug her back? He thought he probably should, and he didn't really mind---McGonagall was all right, but it was so awkward.

Before he could decide, she stood back and surveyed him critically. "It's wonderful to see you looking so well again, Mr. Potter. We were all quite worried about you this summer."

Harry mumbled his thanks, but she had already turned to Snape and embraced him, too. Harry wondered if he'd looked as stunned and uncomfortable as Snape did.

"We can never thank you enough, Severus."

Snape muttered something unintelligible and looked as if he were trying to decide whether he should bolt from the Hall or hex her. Fortunately, McGonagall quickly returned her old brisk, businesslike self though. "I'm sorry you won't be able to attend classes for a few weeks still, Mr. Potter, but I know that you will work hard on your own, and keep up. Sixth year can be a challenge, so you don't want to fall behind."

"Yes, ma'am."

She nodded and as Ron, Hermione, and the rest of the Weasley crowd came over, she and Snape walked slowly off, discussing class schedules.

"Harry! I'm so glad you're here," Hermione beamed. "Ron and I were about to head down to see if Professor Snape would let you come up for dinner, but we didn't really think he would."

"Thank goodness he did," Harry told them. "It's been all right staying down there, but I was starting to go a little stir crazy. Did you get everything at Diagon Alley?"

But before Ron or Hermione could answer, they were interrupted by Madame Pomfrey who came hurrying over to check on Harry herself. She was full of self-reproaches for being unavailable earlier, but she did admit that Snape had done an excellent job of caring for Harry.

The next half hour was like that. Everyone seemed to have heard about Harry's ordeal and wanted to come over and see for themselves that he was recovering and wish him well. They were seated at the tables, and everyone but Harry was dining on roast chicken, scalloped potatoes, and vegetables before Ron and Hermione had a chance to tell Harry about their day.

"It was sad," Hermione said softly. "And a bit scary, too. Everywhere you looked, the Ministry's got safety bulletins and wanted posters, or notices about missing people. About half the shops were closed up, too. We had a hard time finding everything on our lists."

"And Florian Fortescue's gone missing," Ron put in.

"But why?" Harry demanded. "All he did was sell ice cream."

Ron shrugged and shook his head. "Doesn't take much to get on You-Know-Who's bad side, does it?"

"Maybe he decided to go off on his own," Hermione tried to sound hopeful. "You know, for a holiday."

"Or to get out before they could come for him," Ron said darkly.

"I hope so." Harry sipped his drink and had to admit that it did taste pretty good for a potion, light and fruity, almost like pumpkin juice. He motioned towards a short, rotund man, bald but with a great silvery mustache who was sitting beside Dumbledore at the other table. Harry didn't recognize him, and assumed he would be the Defense Against the Dark Arts instructor. "Who's that? Our new Defense professor?"

"His name's Slughorn. Horace Slughorn. Dumbledore introduced us to him just before you and Snape came in, but he didn't say what he would teach," Ron shrugged. "Has to be Defense, though, doesn't it?"

All too soon the meal was over and then Dumbledore stood and said a few words welcoming the staff back and hoping they'd all had a pleasant summer. Harry noticed that McGonagall wiped her eyes with a handkerchief at that, and that Dumbledore paused to give her a sympathetic look.

"What's up with McGonagall? Why's she gone so soft?" He whispered.

Ron and Hermione both looked solemn. Ron whispered back, "Her niece was killed by Death Eaters a few weeks ago. Just before you were kidnapped, in fact."

"Oh." Harry felt a wave of sympathy for her. No wonder McGonagall wasn't quite herself. He wondered if her niece's death had been a sort of punishment for McGonagall's supporting Dumbledore, or if it had just been more of the random violence that the Death Eaters specialized in.

He was beginning to feel depressed. The war seemed so real again. But when chocolate pie was served for dessert, the conversation took a more light-hearted turn. Ginny scooted her chair over to them and the four teenagers were soon absorbed in a discussion about their other friends, and which classes everyone was going to take, and who was dating whom now, and whether the Dumbldore's Army group should try to meet again.

"I wish I could come to the Opening Feast at least, and just see everyone," Harry sighed.

"Well, maybe Snape will let some more people come down and visit," Ron suggested.

"Maybe. You know, he's been a lot different lately. He's actually been really good to me." Harry told them.

Hermione agreed. "Yeah, we noticed that he seemed a bit nicer."

"Hope it lasts," Ron muttered, glancing around to be sure Snape was out of earshot.

"Yeah," Harry swallowed and wished that Ron had not voiced his own fear---that Snape would return to being vengeful and petty once school had started and they were all his students again. He didn't think Snape would be like that, or at least, not as bad as before. But he wasn't completely sure. Snape hadn't said much about his former treatment of Harry, and Harry just couldn't bring himself to outright ask. Besides, it would sound stupid and pitiful to say, "You're not going to hate me again, are you, after I've started to trust you and like you?" Wouldn't it?

To change the subject, he turned to Ron. "What about your parents? Are they going to stay at Hogwarts still?"

Ron and Ginny exchanged worried glances. "No," Ron said slowly. "They're going back home tomorrow. Dumbledore's strengthened the wards and as long as they stay inside or close to the house, they should have plenty of time to Apparate away if they need to."

"I'm sure they'll be all right," Harry tried to reassure them. "They're probably not in any danger at all, now that I'm gone."

He wasn't sure if he believed that. He knew the Death Eaters despised the Weasleys for being ‘blood traitors,' but they were probably in less danger now that he wasn't staying with them anymore, and he wanted to make Ron and Ginny feel better. After all, surely Mr. and Mrs. Weasley wouldn't return to the Burrow if they thought they were truly threatened there.

"Yeah," Ron tried to smile and he reached over to squeeze Ginny's hand. Her fingers tightened around his and she nodded.

The little party broke up soon afterwards. Professors Sprout and Flitwick came over to tell Harry that they hoped he'd be back in class soon. Then Mr. and Mrs. Weasley came over to hug Harry good-bye, and Ron, Ginny, and Hermione went off with them.

Dumbledore wished everyone a good night, and started to leave. Harry thought he looked uncharacteristically weary and noticed that Snape went to speak to him before he left. It appeared that Snape asked him a question because Dumbledore shook his head. Then the headmaster saw Harry watching and gave him a wink and a wave with his good hand, seemingly in the best of spirits. Harry wondered if he'd just imagined that look of exhaustion, but Snape also looked worried as he made his way to Harry.

The new professor, Slughorn, looked as if he would come over to speak to them too, but Snape quickly ushered Harry back into the side chamber before he could.

Harry managed to wait until they were back in Snape's living room, but then he burst out, "Professor Snape, is Dumbledore all right?"

"It's ‘Professor' Dumbledore."

"Professor Dumbledore," Harry agreed. "But is he all right?"

"Why wouldn't he be?" Snape sounded more cross than he had in quite some time.

"Well, his arm is still hurt. He said it was caused by cursed magic, and I'm still having to take potions, and not move my arms or else they'll bleed. So I just wondered what the cursed magic is doing to him. He looked kind of tired when we left." Harry tried to ignore the niggling fear in the back of his mind. Dumbledore had to be all right. He just had to be. Harry refused to think otherwise. He wished suddenly that he'd never brought the subject up.

"The fact that he's basically in charge of the war, that he frequently deals with Ministry idiots who don't know enough to come in out of the rain, and that he's headmaster of a prestigious school about to open for a new year isn't enough to cause him to be tired?" Snape snapped.

Taken aback by Snape's harsh tone, Harry shook his head and wished more than ever that he hadn't said anything. And yet, he was worried about Dumbledore. How could he not say something?

"It's just that he said he'd been cursed with Dark magic, and I can't help but worry," he defended himself.

Snape sighed and came over to lay his hand on Harry's shoulder. "Professor Dumbledore said that's nothing to worry about. He's devoted a lot of time to this secret mission of his, and he has a great deal on his mind. But I'm sure he'll be his old self by the Opening Feast. The start of school always cheers him up."

He raised his eyebrows and continued. "Speaking of which, don't get any ideas about eating in the Great Hall again. Tonight you were with a fairly small group of people, mostly adults, all of whom wish you well. It would be another thing entirely for you to be surrounded by vast numbers of rowdy children, some of whom might delight in harming you."

Harry nodded. He'd pretty much figured that out on his own, anyway. At least, Snape didn't seem upset anymore.

"That reminds me," Snape abruptly headed for the bedroom and came back a moment later, carrying a wooden box. "Once classes begin, I will be teaching for a good part of the day, of course, and in case of trouble, you need to be able to contact me."

Snape opened the box and took out two identical objects. Once he saw what they were, Harry felt as if Snape had punched him. His face twisted with pain and he turned sharply away from the reminders of his own guilt and stupidity.

Two-way mirrors, just like the one Sirius had given him.