When Harry reappeared a half-hour later, markedly upset and carrying a half-charred pizza, he didn't notice the professor's distractedness right away.

"Sorry, I think it's overdone," he said with a contrite smile.

Severus lifted an ironic eyebrow, waiting for the rest of it.

"But not as much as the first three," the boy confessed at last. "I'm sorry, but until I find a way to control the strength of my spells, I'm going to have to stick to mixed salads. I've become the worst cook in England." Frustrated, he threw the pizza onto the table.

"If this one's an improvement, it's because you're beginning to master your powers. No matter how many attempts this took, practice as long as you like; but don't dwell on the failure. Later, we'll see if you feel up to a few exercises," Snape said soothingly.

Then, pointing his wand at the pizza, he murmured several incantations to make their meal look more appetizing.

"Oh," Harry said, slightly disappointed. "If I'd known that before….  Could you teach me that?"

"First, a good meal. I believe we agreed not to eat down here except in special circumstances?" Snape said sternly.

"You didn't come up, so I thought you wanted me to bring the meal down," Harry said, puzzled.

Hmmm.  Perhaps the conversation with Dumbledore had lasted longer than expected…unless he'd been lost in his thoughts after the revelations the old man had set forth. Probably the latter, yes.  Snape shook his head.

"No matter. So cut this thing, so I can objectively critique your cooking."

"You're really sure you want to taste it?" Harry grumbled. "I mean…made with Voldemort's powers, I'm not certain that's a good idea."

"Your powers aren't going to poison the food, Harry. That's ridiculous. Now, the way you use the spells might make that possible, but not the spells themselves." And to prove his point, he bit into his slice with conviction, chewing deliberately before swallowing.

"Hmmm. All right with you if I wait five minutes and see if you drop over dead before I try it?"

"That's remarkably sarcastic for you," the professor said, laying his pizza back on the plate.

"I wonder where I could've learnt that," Harry murmured.

Again, Snape only raised an eyebrow. 

"Oh all right. I suppose you know what you're doing," the boy grumbled as he attacked the pizza.

"Indeed."

But perhaps more than Harry would've thought.

The pizza actually wasn't bad, but eating with his hands wasn't one of Snape's favorite habits. Harry didn't seem to have even realized that it was possible to eat the thing with utensils, and so had neglected to bring them.

He was really becoming too indulgent with the boy, Severus thought, but he didn't want to disappoint him by making utensils appear. Harry was already upset enough by his new difficulties.

And after what he'd just learnt, the Potions master was strongly convinced that they were going to have to start training as quickly as possible to master these powers. It was impossible to send Harry back to Hogwarts under these conditions; it would be dangerous for him and the other students, especially in Potions class. Albus was in agreement with him, that they should try to keep these new abilities a secret as long as possible. With a bit of luck that'd been lacking up until now, Voldemort wouldn't have realized the magnitude of his error.

But Severus doubted it, taking into account the dark wizard's latest exploits, with Loki in the front line.

"Are you all right?"

Snape looked up, realizing he'd been staring into space for several minutes. "Eat," he ordered in the guise of an answer. "Have you taken your potions?"

"Yes, and you?" the boy retorted.

Snape shot him a dark look. "I don't think that's any of your affair."

"And me, I think it is," Harry answered back.

"Let me rephrase that: it's absolutely none of your affair," Snape said dryly.

Annoyed, Harry sighed. "You have the right to worry about me, so why not the opposite? That's not how it works. Anyway, not after what I've come to understand."

The word 'family' didn't cross his lips, but his reproachful look was enough. Snape's features relaxed noticeably. "I'm an adult, Harry, and what's more, a Potions master. I know what I have to do and I do it."

"That doesn't keep me from asking."

It was Snape's turn to sigh. "Very well. Yes, I took them. I've no intention of taking the slightest risk. Is that sufficient?"

"Thanks," the boy answered as he lowered his eyes. He played with his pizza slice for a moment, thinking desperately of how to change the subject. "Do you think I could fly a bit this afternoon?"

Snape considered him for a moment. "If you feel up to it, I don't see why not."

"I know there're more important things," Harry told him apologetically, "but I really need to unwind."

"It's an excellent way to empty your mind; I don't see anything wrong with it. Anyway, you've earned a bit of time off. Remind me to show you the game room later."

"Game room?" Harry asked with interest. "Here?"

"Yes," Snape confirmed. "Upstairs. You'll find billiards, chess, that sort of thing."

"I'd almost forgotten there was an upstairs," the boy murmured. "Do you use it sometimes?"

Snape grimaced. "No."

Sensing that the time for questions had passed, Harry turned back to his pizza. No, really, no matter how he looked at it, it didn’t inspire confidence…and cold, it was even less appetizing.

Snape caught his look and cast a series of incantations. A few instants later, a perfectly roasted chicken landed on the table, surrounded by potatoes, and giving off an irresistible smell.

Harry felt his mouth begin to water as the professor calmly carved the meat, after making two plates and assorted silverware appear.

But a second later, it was a famished black cat that leapt onto the table to seize a chicken thigh, then fled to beneath a cupboard in a flurry of fur.

Snape sat with his mouth hanging open, the knife in midair.

"Harry?"

For a second, he thought nothing would happen. Then he saw the head of a black cat peep out from its hiding place, the chicken thigh still between its teeth; the cat returned sheepishly to the table.

Letting go of the bone regretfully, the cat transformed back into a crestfallen teenager.

"Enlighten me," the professor began. "Should I consider that as a return to animal instinct, or a new example of your deplorable table manners?"

"I can't believe I did that," Harry moaned as he sat, floored.

"You're not the only one. A slight analysis is in order. What provoked this transformation, Harry?"

"I…the smell, I think. The meat. It made me hungry, and I don't know…I've never done that before!"

"Indeed, but this reaction seems similar to the one that drove you to attack Mr. Weasley yesterday, in your cat form," Snape pointed out.

"I didn't think of that ahead of time either. It just came on like that….  Do you think it's a problem? I mean, a serious one?"

Severus thought for a moment. "Lack of control is always a problem. However, I dare hope this one is only temporary."

"I'll have to do some trial runs. I have to put myself in some situations where I could be surprised and where—"

"Start by working on your transformations," Snape cut him off. "That still seems to me to be the best way of mastering your forms; we have not put enough time into that lately."

"With all that's happened, and Remus…Remus! I have to talk to him about it; he'll certainly know what to do," Harry exclaimed. It seemed as if the Potions master's face suddenly clouded over, but he didn't answer.

"Start by eating your meal. From a plate, if possible."

"Sorry about that. I'll try to, er, restrain my instincts in the future," the boy stammered.

"I see it wasn't the pizza that got you all worked up. Next time, I'll know how to get you to transform into the cat in spite of yourself."

"Yes," Harry said, "always keep a chicken on hand to face Voldemort. Good thing to know."

The two wizards studied each other, with a look of challenge that a casual observer might've taken for complicity.

Feeling his appetite return, Harry enthusiastically started in on his chicken with his fork. Still, there was something about the act of tearing the meat into pieces with little pointed fangs that made the fact of being a cat exciting. He wondered idly if Sirius had felt the same thing in his dog form…and immediately lost his appetite.

Snape saw the young man suddenly set down his fork, his expression in stark contrast to his eagerness of just a moment ago.

"The chicken's not to your taste?" he asked.

"That's not it. Just the opposite. It's just…sorry, Professor, I think I'm not all that hungry, actually. Would it bother you if I go take a turn in the park?

Snape frowned. "I insist that you at least finish your plate. I don't care about your table manners when we're here, but you need to regain your strength, and a complete meal is necessary for that. Eat."

Harry pressed his lips together, and picked at the food on his plate for a moment, trying to summon the courage to take a mouthful. Unsuccessfully. His stomach had balled up at the thought of Sirius, and didn't seem about to let anything pass through.

"Honestly, Professor, if I eat something, it's not going to stay down. I don't think that'll be very helpful."

Severus set down his fork, clearly irritated. "A few minutes ago, you were sufficiently hungry so that you transformed into the cat and stole a chicken thigh from the table. An explanation for this sudden reversal of appetite?"

Harry looked for a moment at the man he'd come to appreciate, and who was waiting for his answer, noticeably concerned. He would've liked to be able to explain it to him…but telling Severus how much Harry missed his childhood enemy? That thinking of Sirius again upset him enough to steal away his appetite, when he knew perfectly well that the two wizards had hated each other?

No, that definitely wasn't a good idea. At best, Severus would say a few awkward and hypocritical words, at worst, he'd be angry.

It was truly the last thing Harry needed just now. So, he shook his head, refusing to meet the professor's eyes. "Could I make do with a potion?"

"On an empty stomach, no." Snape thought for an instant. "Transform, Harry. Whatever it is that's bothering you, it upsets you less in your animal form. So take this damned chicken thigh and go eat it outside, like the alley cat you are."

It wasn't a bad idea. He gave the professor a wan smile before changing into the cat and grabbing the bone on the floor. The door leading to the park opened, and the cat dashed up the steps without a backwards glance.

The wind! Finally! Intoxicated by the feel of the breeze in his fur, Shadow took off at top speed though the high grass, avoiding sticks and stones, to finally jump with a single leap to the highest branch of a tree, the chicken thigh still between his fangs.

Ah, satisfaction! The view was unobstructed, the sun warm on his fur, and the chicken had never tasted so good.  And Sirius…was a faraway memory. He felt his heart constrict confusedly, but refused to dwell on the thought. He had things to do. Powers to master. People to save. And maybe even a family to work on now…

Vaguely ill at ease, Shadow looked toward the Manor. From here he could clearly see the upper storey. He'd not paid it any attention when he'd been flying the other day, but most of the shutters had been closed, obviously for a long time; ivy had grown up onto the wooden doors, with the exception, though, of two dusty windows that seemed to look out from the same room. Green curtains hid the interior, but the cat thought it could see the outlines of a wardrobe and a bed. Nothing surprising, really, but why was this room the only one whose windows were unshuttered? Did Snape use it, contrary to what he'd claimed? Or someone else? Still, Snape didn't seem to be inclined to receive guests…

Intrigued, the cat finished devouring its trophy as he watched the house. It seemed fairly austere in design, and rather majestic as well. Had Severus himself drawn up the plans? Had he bought it for its imposing and isolated features? Had he wanted to impress the other Death Eaters? The Manor didn't cease to intrigue him, but curiously, Harry dreaded asking the Potions master questions. One day…later.

Full at last, Shadow finally decided to come down from his perch. Exercise, Snape had said.  When he was at the bottom of the tree, he retook his human form and glanced around. Hmmm, the way in which he saw things was really different when he changed form, so some time to adjust was in order. But he wouldn't have the luxury of this time when he was in danger, and that was one thing he had to consider from now on.

He began to run quickly across the lawn, focused, before transforming back to the cat in mid-stride.

Good, he'd not needed to think this time. A bit more difficult, perhaps…he retook his usual form, before taking off at a run for the tree. He waited until the very last second before throwing himself at the trunk, all of his claws out, his heart racing. Yes, that worked very well. So why couldn't he simply control his changes each and every time?

It wasn't as if he'd grown up in this form. By Merlin, why did he revert to it so often?

Out of the corner of his eye, he spied a movement near the Manor. Snape had apparently come out to watch him. Jumping down from his branch, Harry retook his human form to join him.

"I made a few tries. I have no trouble changing at will, but it's a bit strange, don't you think? It wasn't that easy before. I really don't know how to explain it."

Snape considered him thoughtfully for an instant. "Could you try to switch from one form to the other as quickly as possible, and continue for as long as you can? Until you no longer feel comfortable, or become tired, if possible."

Harry nodded, and threw himself into a series of rapid transformations. He'd already done this exercise once in the dungeon, and expected to quickly run out of energy…but five minutes later, it was Snape who stopped him.

"That's enough."

Harry froze in his human form, his eyes questioning. "I'm not tired; on the contrary, I've lost count along the way. It was fast enough, wasn't it?"

"Rather, yes. You were at thirty-four changes."

"Oh. A good many, I think. The last time I only did…" He stopped. "Am I really supposed to progress this quickly?"

Snape slowly shook his head. "Your level of magic has increased considerably, and your endurance along with it. It's a good thing, but I suspect your unexpected transformations are linked to this greatly enhanced flow of magic."

"Could you try to remember that I'm not Hermione, please? You're trying to tell me that Voldemort's powers also affect Shadow?" Harry asked, perturbed.

"They affect your transformations," Snape corrected. "All of your magic is affected by it, Harry, which is normal. You don't have Voldemort's powers on one side, and your own on the other."

"I'm not sure I like that," the boy confessed. "Do you think it's just a question of training?"

"Largely." Then when the boy looked worried, he added, "It's not as if anyone's ever stolen the Dark Lord's powers before you, Harry. We'll have to study the matter, and remain cautious."

"Could I start now? Training? I feel in top form."

"Didn't you want to fly a bit first?" Snape asked.

Harry made a sweeping gesture with his hand. "Not now. Running in Shadow's skin is almost the same thing. How do you want me to start?"

Severus motioned with his chin for them to head for the clearing. "List for me a few spells you could use."

"Hmmm…maybe simple spells to start, like Accio or Lumos…or something a bit more offensive, like a Stupefy, but I'll need a target that moves."

"That shouldn't be a problem. Anything else?"

"For the last one, I'd like for you to wait to be surer of your abilities. Accio seems to definitely be a good place to begin."

"And an Inpedimenta?" Harry asked.

Snape nodded, obviously satisfied. Harry couldn't help but feel a burst of pride. He'd passed the first part of the test.

When they finally stopped at their usual training place, Harry felt surer of himself than he had in days. Raising his wand, he pointed at empty space, but a hand shot out immediately and rested on his own to make him lower his arm.

"Above all else," Snape began, "think about what you want to produce. Visualize the effect and the power you want to put into your spell. Feel your magic and direct it."

Severus opened his mouth to point out to the boy that a Lumos in broad daylight would hardly have an effect, but he was quickly stopped by the blinding light pulsing from the wand.

"Wow," Harry said, "I suppose that'd be more spectacular at night, but did you see that?"

Yes, he'd seen it. Even with the summer sun at its highest, the difference in intensity hadn’t been difficult to see. What now illuminated the clearing had an unnatural quality that made the grass and foliage almost transparent.

"Did you start with a moderate spell?" Snape finally asked.

"Yes. Do you want me to try again with it stronger?"

"Focus yourself first. Stay in control of your powers."

Harry knew what he meant. Doing magic had always been exciting, but this sort of electricity that ran through his body to center in his arm, which wanted to come out of him, this feeling of power… It was exhilarating, truly exhilarating.

For a second, he had to close his eyes, with his arm across his face. When he opened them again, he thought for an instant that his vision was clouded by the blinding light surrounding him. Could her really see through that tree? His eyes widened as his mouth hung open.

Behind him, Snape told him quickly, "Harry, end the spell!"

The light disappeared, and once again Harry thought his eyes were playing a trick on him. The sunlight should've been brighter, shouldn't it have? One look at Snape confirmed that something wasn't right.

"Severus?"

The professor turned his head to him. "Look toward the Manor."

Harry obeyed. Beyond the clearing, the afternoon sun seemed to still be as strong. All around them, on the other hand…

"It's almost like it's night," Harry choked out. "I only cast a Nox to extinguish my wand; I don't understand."

"Finite Incantatem," Snape simply said.

To his great relief, the light became immediately normal again, just as it'd been around the clearing. Simple sunlight. Lowering his wand, he watched Snape as he bent over to pick up something. Intrigued, Harry drew closer, but it was only a simple blade of grass that the professor was examining, as if it were some new specimen.

Whatever he was looking at so closely, there was something strange about the plant, maybe in its color, or…

"Merlin, that's not…?"

Snape turned to him and lifted the blade of grass toward the sky. It was slight, certainly, but undeniable: it'd taken on a more translucent texture, letting the sun's rays pass straight through it. Harry could almost see the magic moving inside its cells.

"It would appear that I underestimated the power of your simplest spells," Severus only said. "We're going to have to think of all possibilities. Your level of power seems to give the incantations a new dimension."

"Will it stay that way?" Harry asked, unable to look away from the blade of grass.

"No, it's already starting to return to its normal color. It's…at the least, impressive."

Harry didn't know if he should feel flattered or uncomfortable. "Do you want me to try something more…offensive?" he asked.

"That's up to you. Do you feel able?"

He nodded. That was the actual goal, after all…testing his limits. "A Stupefy shouldn't do too much damage, I suppose. Only need to know what to use it on."

A large, ferocious-looking ghost of a dog appeared from the end of his wand like a Patronus, and began to skulk in circles around them, clearing looking for something to attack.

The watchdog froze in full-stride, but didn't fall to the ground as Harry expected. It seemed…petrified, Harry thought, as he drew near to see it more closely. Snape was there ahead of him, tapping the animal with his fingertips. Its hair seemed strangely hard and…shiny.

"Frozen," Snape said laconically.

Harry reached out then, refusing to believe it. He scratched the hair, loosening some flakes of frost. The dog was well and good fixed in place by a weight of ice.

"Since when does a Stupefy freeze the target?" he asked incredulously.

"To my knowledge, this is the first," Snape answered. "Dreadfully effective, without a doubt, although potentially very dangerous on a living being. I wonder what a Petrificus—" He was interrupted by a faint ringing filling the air in the clearing.

Harry was instantly on his guard, ready to face any possible assailants, but Snape didn't seem otherwise perturbed.

"That old magpie," Snape grumbled. "I didn't expect her so soon. She couldn't resist, evidently."

"What's going on?" Harry asked sharply.

"We have guests," Snape explained. "But before we return to the Manor, I'd like you to vanish this specter."

"A…specter?" Harry asked, looking at the dog in consternation.

"In a manner of speaking. It's rather close to a Patronus, actually. We'll talk about it later. Suffice it to say that it's much more difficult—not to mention impossible—to cast effective spells on these sorts of creatures. Your performance is admirable, Harry. Now, if you would…"

The boy raised his wand, vaguely annoyed. He didn't really deserve these compliments, and he'd certainly not tried for this result. He shook his head to clear his mind.

He probably should've paid more attention to what he was doing, for the dog did disappear, as well as a large part of the forest behind him, digging a bigger hole in the clearing. He stood, open-mouthed, for a moment.

"I…I’m sorry, I was aiming for the dog…I think," he stammered.

At his side, a slightly pale Snape observed the hole without a word.

"You controlled your power?" he asked.

"Not really," Harry confessed. "I just wanted to get rid of the dog. Do you want me to try again?"

But Snape shook his head. "Not for now. But we'll come back to it. There're be a great deal of work to do for you to be able to control your powers without danger. This session, however, has been most instructive." With a wave of his hand, he motioned for Harry to head for the Manor, and the two wizards took off in silence, lost in their thoughts.'''

"Where was that noise coming from?" Harry asked at last.

"It's an alarm that warns me when a guest arrives by the Floo."

"Oh. You were waiting for someone?" Harry asked in surprise.

"Evidently," Snape replied. "But it's a visitor for you."

"Me? Honestly, Professor, I don't really want a visitor right now."

"Do this to please me; give them a cordial welcome, as much as you can," Snape said gently.

Harry turned to him, searching his eyes for a hint of duplicity or manipulation. But all he met were the black and, yes, kind eyes of the professor. It was truly a request and not an order or attempt to maneuver him.

He swallowed hard. Why was it always these little details that touched him the most?

"All right."

Automatically, he went to Snape, whose eyes sparked suddenly when he heard Harry's answer.

Severus must've read his mind, because the instant afterward, he'd casually draped an arm around the boy's shoulders, just like that day at the Weasleys. And oh, Merlin, it felt good.

Just a summer afternoon, just someone who was proud of him and who cared about him enough to make this simple gesture. It was probably what James would've done, if he'd lived, but he'd not known James, had he? And it was Severus who was here for him now, Severus whom he knew well enough to appreciate that he wasn't adept at demonstrations of affection, Severus whom he'd come to respect and admire.

Yes, it was definitely one of those glorious moments he'd have liked to be able to hoard in a bottle and relive over and over.

He was so affected by the moment that he didn't see the figure watching them from in front of the Manor at the door to the laboratory, until the very last moment. A small figure, really, but as soon as he identified it, Harry sensed Shadow within in him spit in its direction. A cat! A cat on his territory!

But Snape didn't seem surprised by the intrusion, and briefly squeezed his shoulder before letting him go. A few feet from the animal, Harry realized there was something familiar in the markings of its fur.

"We weren't expecting you so soon, Minerva," Snape said.

Harry stiffened. McGonagall? Obviously, he should've recognized the circles around the eyes, but what was the Head of Gryffindor doing here at Snape Manor?

The cat blinked at the Potions master, before shifting its golden eyes toward Harry.

Ill at ease, the boy turned to Severus. "Professor, I'm not sure I understand."

"Professor McGonagall has come here to give you some lessons on…well, on mastering your cat form, I assume? If you have questions about your transformations, Harry, she would probably be the best one to ask. Despite her definite resemblance to a shabby old rug, Professor McGonagall is nevertheless the only living, registered Animagus."

The cat in front of them let out furious growl at the Potions master, before walking haughtily toward Harry, its tail held high.

The boy couldn't help but smile. This was so McGonagall. Yes, so McGonagall. His smile disappeared. Severus knew that he didn't want to see her. But when Harry turned to him{,} the professor only graced him with a confident smile, his head slightly tilted, as he shrugged and motioned toward the cat with his chin.

Harry understood the message, and nodded. It was true; in this form, the witch was decidedly less intimidating, and Harry was truly curious to see what it would be like to face another Animagus in his cat form.

The wizard narrowed his eyes imperceptibly, so Harry took a deep breath. A second later, Shadow stood facing the other cat, his heart racing.

And now?

"Perfect. If you don't find it inconvenient, I'll leave the two of you to your feline activities and take care of my herbs. By the way, Minerva, Potter hasn't finished his flea treatment. You're forewarned."

Turning on heel, he headed for the patch of ground where, he claimed, two months out of the year, to grow a few medicinal plants. A totally futile preoccupation that didn't even fool himself, but it was out of the question that he be caught cat-sitting, especially for Potter and Minerva McGonagall.

Potter…Harry, he corrected himself. That the old harpy was there wouldn't change a thing. The boy was perhaps a Gryffindor and an Animagus, but that she'd think for a moment that she'd have the upper hand over him when they returned to Hogwarts… After all, she'd proven during Potter's five years in her House that she was completely incompetent when it came to looking after him.

And it wasn't as if the boy trusted her. He held back a slight smile. No, he shouldn't think that way. It'd been his idea for Minerva to come to the Manor in her cat form to meet Harry on his own territory.  It was not an option for the boy to allow Lucius' torturing to impact relationships with the people he cared for. And whether he liked it or not, Harry cared for McGonagall. It was rather logical, after all. Minerva had always favored and overprotected her dear Gryffindors. He shook his head.

Perhaps. But she'd let Harry slip through the cracks. He himself wouldn't make the same mistake.

He glanced discreetly over his shoulder. The two cats seemed to be getting on. He shrugged, as if to deny the slight tug at his heartstrings he felt at the sight of them. He certainly wasn't going to start being jealous of an old mangy cat who probably had more fleas than his own cat.

Truly, it would've been better if he'd sprayed McGonagall with the product instead of telling her to take care of Shadow.

This time, he allowed himself a slight smile. Yes, the there was something definitely delightful about the idea. One day, perhaps….

The first thing Harry was aware of when he took his Animagus form was that McGonagall had the same scent as a cat as she did as a witch. A slight aroma of chalk, of violet perfume, and her own cat fur. The odor was more marked to Shadow's keen sense of smell, and there was something definitely reassuring about it.

The McGonagall who'd attacked him in Dumbledore's office hadn't smelled like this. It was probably the least of his worries just then, and she was too far away anyway, but he knew it confusedly. This old cat in front of him was neither going to attack him nor steal away his territory.

The golden eyes blinked. 'Pretty markings, Harry.'

'Shadow.'

'Shadow.' The other cat nodded.

'I can understand you?'

'A little. Not as much as in your human form, but it'll be enough.'

Shadow flicked his ears, troubled. He could communicate with McGonagall, but the thoughts he was deciphering seemed vaguer and not as easy to understand as if she'd spoken. Still, it was much more than he could express to Severus while in this form.

The other cat trotted away into the grass, and Shadow quickly followed it.

'Where are you going?'

'I'm visiting,' the tabby replied.

'This is my home!' Shadow protested, feeling his instincts coming to the forefront. McGonagall turned her head to look at him with eyes sparkling with humor.

'Your territory?'

'Yes. With Severus.'

It was the female cat's turn to be disconcerted. But only for a moment. "So, show me what you know how to do."

Spurred on, Shadow took off at a gallop across the lawn, his lawn, before streaking in the flash of a second to the top of a tree, then rushing down almost as quickly. Let the old witch try that! But McGonagall waited for him at the foot of the tree, barely impressed.

'That's all? What else?'

It seemed to him that the Animagus had smiled. Swishing her tail, the tabby cat crouched down in the grass, on the lookout. Shadow followed her with his eyes, astounded, until he noticed what had captivated McGonagall's attention. With a leap, the cat pounced on a field mouse, trapped it between her teeth, and dropped it triumphantly between Shadow's paws.

The rodent fled, squeaking in terror, right from under the black cat's bemused eyes.

'Well?' McGonagall asked impatiently.

'I've never tried that…but I can catch things that fly. Severus trained me.'

The tabby batted its tail, clearly annoyed. 'Severus knows nothing about cats. Find some other prey. Smell. Listen.'

That still seemed like what Snape had told him to do. Shadow concentrated on what was around him, his ears and nose straining. There, right there, something was moving. He flattened himself in the grass, like he'd seen McGonagall do the moment before, and crept soundlessly toward his victim. One step…two…three….he leapt, his claws out, and fiercely seized his prey before releasing it again.

'A beetle, Shadow?' He sensed the laughter behind the Head of Gryffindor's thoughts.

Vexed, he casually lifted his nose. If only he were to find a bird, and then he'd show her, the old magpie!

But it was something else that attracted his attention. Above them, the clouds had started to pile up in what threatened to become a good summer storm.

'Water,' McGonagall said as he followed his eyes. 'That's not good. Best not to linger.'

Shadow flicked his tail. The electricity charging the air, little by little, was making him nervous, but he had to first prove to McGonagall that he wasn't a housecat. Just a dungeon cat. Taking a run-up, he climbed into the tree without a sound. Slipping from branch to branch, hidden by the leaves and his black fur, he finally found what he was looking for…this little sparrow was either too old or too young, as it hadn't heard him coming. Oh well, too bad for him. With a single leap, he jumped at the bird, which flew off at the last moment, leaving Shadow to land, his paws empty, on the farthest fragile end of the branch, making it fold under his weight.

Off-balance, the cat found itself with its back end hanging in the empty air, attached to the swaying branch by only the strength of its claws. He glanced desperately toward the place where Snape was: the wizard had started to run immediately, ending his pretense of not paying attention to their little games.

Shadow saw him lift his wand and murmur a spell, then felt his behind raise gently until he regained his balance on the branch, his heart racing. It was just… How had he not realized that he'd gone so high? If he'd fallen… Merlin, how was he supposed to get down from here? If only he had his Firebolt. Paralyzed, he shot a pleading look at the Potions master.

The wizard let out a half-smile as he lifted his wand again and lowered the cat to the lawn, while McGonagall looked on disapprovingly.

'You could've got down very well on your own,' she protested.

'I thought I was going to fall,' Shadow admitted pitifully.

'You got down very well before. But you must pay more attention to where you land. That branch was too weak, even for a small cat like yourself. Start again.'

Shadow thought he felt the first drops of rain, but kept himself from protesting. He wasn't going to show himself the timid little cat in all of this! While Snape walked into the distance again, Shadow took a running start, and climbed the tree, not quite so high this time. His cat pride somewhat wounded, he set off on the quest of another bird to catch. It still wasn't nearly as complicated as catching a Snitch. What was she thinking—that old alley cat—that he'd been born yesterday?

It wasn't a drop that the cat felt now, but the beginning of a shower. Creeping farther out on the branch, he glanced at the sky that was now black.

He was thinking confusedly that staying up in a tree probably wasn't the best idea during a storm, when a muffled cry from further away attracted his attention: Severus, who'd stepped away again, was standing bent-over in the rain, desperately gripping his left forearm. His face was hidden by his hair, but Shadow guessed that he was doubled over in pain. And in fact, an instant later, the Potions master lifted his head in the rain, letting out another cry before falling to his knees. A cry of rage this time, the cat realized…and helplessness.

Without losing a moment, he jumped to the foot of the tree and ran with all his might toward Severus, flanked by McGonagall.

When they finally reached the wizard's side, he'd stood up, but his hand clenched his arm and his twisted features spoke volumes.

McGonagall transformed immediately. "Severus, what's happening?"

It was Harry's turn to take his human form again. "It's Voldemort, isn't it?"

"No, Potter," groaned the Potions master, "it's the Ministry inviting me to tea. Obviously it's Voldemort!"

Harry saw McGonagall startle on hearing the ex-Death Eater say this name. She took a step toward him, then placed a hand on his shoulder in a gesture of comfort. "Severus, let us help you go in."

But before he could answer, another streak of pain made him fall to his knees again with a groan.

It was almost like night now, under the cover of the clouds, and the sudden darkness made Harry anxious. Without thinking, he roughly pushed his Head of House away from Severus. McGonagall, Bellatrix…and that same pain that was now steadily throbbing in his scar. It was too much for him. Reflexively, he raised his wand at the witch watching him, her eyes wide.

"Harry!"

"Get away from him! Now!"

"Mr. Potter, stop this childishness immediately; we must take Professor Snape inside, an attack could be—"

"GET AWAY! I won't let you.  Leave! Right now!" Harry shouted.

"This is completely ridiculous! Harry, look at me, get hold of yourself; I've no intention of harming Severus or yourself. I simply want to help you."

But when she made a move to go to the wizard on the ground, the boy resolutely brandished his wand, and hissed like a cat…or a snake, thought the Head of Gryffindor.

He didn't speak an incantation, and yet it was indeed a spell that struck Minerva McGonagall full in the chest and propelled her into the distance with an unexpected strength. In spite of her surprise, the witch managed to transform in mid-flight, and land, uninjured, on four paws just a dozen meters farther away, before fleeing swiftly into a bush.

What spell could the boy have cast? She could feel a burning and a sharp, shooting pain in her chest, as if she'd been hit by something heavy that was shaking her entire body. Merlin, he'd not even spoken the incantation aloud, outside of that hissing…unless…  Did Harry know how to cast spells in Parseltongue?

She discreetly drew nearer, so the boy didn't notice her, but she was clearly the last thing on his mind. Snape, now doubled over with pain that'd clearly escalated, didn't seem aware of his surroundings. All his strength focused on not crying out, his face sallow and his eyes closed, he didn't realize the state Harry was in—watching him helplessly, panic-stricken and becoming more agitated from second to second.

Frantically looking around him, his wand raised, the boy tried to pinpoint the source of the attack. But the wall of rain and the half-light made it impossible, and clenching his teeth, he began to hiss an incantation.

Minerva felt her fur stand on end. It was indeed in Parseltongue that Harry was expressing himself. Was he even aware of it?  Merlin, what was he trying to do? Whatever it was, he'd clearly not obtained the desired result, because he was now staring at his wand, in a daze, not understanding why it hadn't obeyed him.

But a choked cry pulled him from his stupor. At his feet, the ex-Death Eater, still fiercely gripping his Mark, had rested a hand on the ground so as not to collapse, his shoulders shaking.

McGonagall felt her heart pound harder. Severus had already been suffering when she and Harry'd reached him, but he'd been lucid enough to talk to them; his pain seemed to increase, the more Harry……  An idea abruptly occurred to the cat.

Harry!

The Head of Gryffindor immediately retook her human form, without trying to hide herself any longer, while the boy spoke another incantation in Parseltongue. Around him, the air seemed to crackle, like a powerful, malevolent magical aura…

"Harry, no! You're only making things worse!"

The boy looked at her wildly, but to her great relief, without aggression. He seemed completely lost and without any idea of what to do in face of the situation, to the point of forgetting his resentment. "I…I don't understand, my spells aren't working. Help me, Professor. Please!"

Minerva opened her mouth to reply when a sudden peal of thunder rang out, making the air around them vibrate. Was it possible that the light had dimmed even more? And why did she have this abrupt impression that they were in a very, very precarious position? It was much too cold for a summer's day. And there was nothing natural about the cold chilling their skin, no more than the dark shadows floating above the park.

McGonagall felt the vaguely familiar sensation of despair fill her, and one glance at Harry was enough for her to know that he'd understood as well.

"Dementors," he breathed out.

"Severus," McGonagall said. "We must return to the Manor, inside the walls. Let me help you."

With a surge of will that surprised the witch, Snape did his best to nod at her through his confusion, his jaw still clenched almost to the point of breaking. He tried awkwardly to stand again, before falling back to the ground, overcome.

Becoming more and more nervous, Minerva seized her colleague by the arm, before looking up to ask Harry to help her.

But she stood stock still, mouth open, at the sight of the boy, his face, marble-like, turned toward the sky. His eyes vacant, lips half-open, he seemed to be listening attentively to something and…was it only the wind, or was Harry really making a hissing sound?

"Harry!" McGonagall cried out, desperate to attract his attention, but the boy didn't even startle at the sound of his name.

For a brief moment, Minerva wondered what Dumbledore would've done in this situation, but an instant afterward, it was the man she'd long considered a traitor and coward who took the situation in hand.

Gathering his strength, Snape had lifted his head and sought out Harry's eyes. "Shadow!" he called hoarsely.

This time, the boy jumped and turned to look in confusion toward the Potions master.

"Look at…me."

Harry took a hesitant step toward him to peer into Severus' black, glittering eyes.

"I can't do it, Severus," the boy moaned. "I've already tried three times; it doesn't work and there're more and more of them. I…I can feel them, but not like before. It's like they're waiting for something from me. Like I called them instead of making them go away!" he confessed at last.

Severus was silent for a moment, his breathing ragged. Then, with a quick gesture, he grabbed his wand and held it out to Harry. "Try again. Think…positive. You can do it, Harry. I've got confidence in you."

Ignoring Minerva's gasp of surprise, Harry seized the wand. It was the same black wand he'd used that day in the dungeon, trying to push back the Dementors. Severus' wand, which had sacrificed its owner so that Harry'd not be hurt. And now, it was his turn to protect his professor. No, not his professor, he corrected. He wouldn't allow the different word to form in his head, but the thought was nonetheless there.

Lifting the black wand high, he summoned all the magic coursing through his veins like an electrical charge, and directed it through his hand. Severus, he had to think of Severus, and the Manor, even Shadow.

For a fraction of a second, he thought he'd once again cast a Lumos in spite of himself. He had to lift his arm to protect his eyes from the blinding light. But when he opened them again, it was to the sight of a huge white stage, head held high, galloping full-out for the park, in the middle of what seemed to be a thick and shining mist.

It enveloped the three of them in a protective cloud, and the feeling of despair and freezing cold immediately drained away, leaving them relieved as well as stunned. The stag cantered in large circles around them, indefatigable, and even though the rain continued to fall, the shadows began to disperse, little by little, leaving only black clouds that made the sky the color of lead.

On the ground, Snape seemed to have regained his bearings and was trying to stand, his hand still clenched on his arm. Minerva went immediately to help him, but he pushed her away in irritation.

"Let's go in," he said, motioning with his head toward the Manor.

Then, catching Harry's worried eyes, he managed a faint smile. "I'll take my wand back. That was very well done, Harry."

The boy smiled at him as he handed him the wand. "Thanks." He hesitated for an instant, dozens of questions on the tip of his tongue. But the drawn features and the hand still gripping the Mark dissuaded him from asking them now. They first had to get back to the Manor. With a few potions in him, Severus would most likely feel better.

They made their way in silence, slowly, with difficulty, Snape clearly having trouble recovering his strength. When they were at last in the shelter of the dungeons, Harry couldn't help but sigh in relief.

 Minerva watched incredulously as the boy rushed to the wooden table, where he chose two potions that he immediately took to Severus. The professor swallowed them down without being asked, then fell into an armchair with all the dignity the situation and his strength allowed him.

"Severus, how are you?"

The Potions master gritted his teeth, holding back the sarcastic reply burning his lips. Did he look like he was basking in happiness? Merlin, he had to be covered in mud; did Minerva have to be there on the exact day this had to happen?

"Better. The attack's intensity is lessening," he finally said.

"Is there something I can do?" Minerva urged.

"No. You can go back. Your session should be reported anyway; the storm doesn't seem about to stop."

"Severus, I can't leave you in such a state," the witch protested. "Let me call Poppy or Albus, there's surely something to be done."

"That never seemed to have bothered you before," the Potions master lashed out. Then, he went on, "It's not necessary, Minerva. Voldemort doesn't have the strength to sustain this sort of attack for very long; it's almost no longer painful. Neither Pomfrey nor Dumbledore could do anything for it."

"You don't think he could attack the Manor?" Harry asked nervously.

"No, no need to worry. There was no one here, outside of the Dementors; the alarms would've alerted me if it were otherwise."

"Severus, I'm not certain, but I really had the impression that the Dementors came because I called them. I didn't really call them," he added quickly, "it's when I wanted to cast a Patronus, just in case, that I felt them answer…I don't understand!"

Snape sat up to look the boy in the eyes. "How, exactly?"

"It's hard to explain," Harry said, trying to order his thoughts. "Like an echo. A presence, but not a person, something more…vague?"

"A collective consciousness?" Snape suggested, still rubbing his forearm.

"Something like that. There were no words, at least I don't think so…maybe yes, after all. Something like, 'We're coming,' but more like a question, as if I had to tell them something. I don't know, I'm not even sure it really happened. I don't understand why my Patronus didn't work with my own wand," he finished with a lump in his throat.

"Harry," McGongagall said gently, "you didn't say a spell aloud when you did it, in the beginning. At least not in English. You said the incantation, but in Parseltongue."

Harry started, and the Potions master narrowed his eyes. "That was you?"

"I…" Harry swallowed. "I didn't realize that. Did I really do that? That's the first time…what does that mean?"

"You'd panicked, and Voldemort had activated my Mark. Did you feel a connection at the same time as I did?" Snape asked.

"My scar burned a bit, but it was really very slight. But my powers…I don't understand why nothing happened, when I've felt like I've been mastering them so well. Do you think I attracted the Dementors by wanting to send them away?"

"It's not impossible. I heard Parseltone being spoken, but I thought it was a repercussion of the attack. That explains it." Rubbing his forearm one last time, he finally released it, before looking disgustedly at the now black scar etched into his flesh.

"Did that really make things worse?" Harry asked, his eyes also fixed on the Mark.

Snape hesitated for a half-second. "It's difficult to say."

"Harry might've acted as a catalyst," McGonagall proposed thoughtfully. Her suggestion earned her a murderous look from Severus.

"Keep your theories to yourself, Minerva, and go back and inform Albus that Voldemort has attempted another attack. I'll come by later and make my report to him."

"Severus, you should rest," the Head of Gryffindor told him soothingly. "You look terrible."

"Thank you," Snape retorted. "I have every intention. Harry, dry your clothes or change, but don't stay like that. And for pity's sake, stop looking at me as if I died right in front of you. It's not as if this were the first time this bloody Mark decided to afflict me."

"It…is it always this bad?" Harry asked weakly, unable to let go of the subject.

Snape considered him for a moment. It wasn't morbid curiosity, he knew. Harry needed to know what was happening…and he hated when things were hidden from him. This time, however, it didn't seem wise to tell him any more than necessary.

"No, it's rarely this violent. But I suppose Voldemort wanted to send a clear message, and he put all his strength behind it. Fortunately, he's hardly stronger than myself at the moment."

The boy still stared at him anxiously. He probably sensed there was more behind it than Snape seemed to let on.

"I really need to rest, Harry," he said at last. "Do whatever you like while you wait for me, but I'd prefer that you not go out for now. I'll be back in an hour or two, and we'll go to Hogwarts to see the Headmaster…and your dear werewolf, if you like."

Harry looked away as he nodded. "I'm going to go change. I still feel like I can smell them on my clothes. I know they don't have an odor, but…" He shrugged. "You don't need anything?"

Severus shook his head, then headed for the stairs with one last look for McGonagall.

"Goodbye, Professor. And thank you," Harry said.

"You're welcome, Mr. Potter. If you like, I could stay and keep you company while Professor Snape rests, and keep watch in case another attack occurs."

Severus seemed on the verge of saying something, but changed his mind, staring at the flames in the fireplace.

Harry watched the two of them, hesitating.

"Whatever you like, Professor." Then, turning to Snape, he said, "I'll be back."

He closed the door behind him, and the echo of his footsteps faded quickly away. Left alone, the two Heads of House were quiet for a moment.

"Will this bother you, Severus?" Minerva asked at last.

"That you stay and keep Harry company, no. As for countering another attack, on the other hand. Might I know why you didn't cast a Patronus yourself, Minerva?"

The witch startled, then looked away. "I…I'm sorry, Severus. I would've dearly loved to be able to do that, you can be certain. I'm totally incapable of it," she confessed.

"Incapable?" Snape asked incredulously. "Since when?"

"Since always. I've never known how to produce a Patronus, much less one as strong as Harry's. Are you satisfied?" she asked dryly.

"No, not really. How can a witch such as you, an Order member, show herself incapable of producing a Patronus? What would happen if you were attacked by Dementors in the course of a battle?"

"I'd transform into a cat and run away. Is that what you wanted to hear?  Yes, that would be my only chance to survive, I realize. Like a perfect Death Eater, incapable of producing a Patronus. That's probably the tactic Peter Pettigrew would choose as well, since we're speaking of it," she said, deeply disgusted.

Snape looked at her thoughtfully for an instant. "Not being able to produce a Patronus doesn't make you a Death Eater, Minerva."

"But the fact that you're capable clearly indicates that you are not one," sighed the witch. "Why didn't you take your chance, earlier, instead of giving your wand to Harry? I know from a reliable source that you're capable of it."

"I no longer had enough strength for it, old bag," growled the Potions master. "Didn't Albus deem it necessary to tell you that I'm just about as useful as a Squib these days? The attack exhausted my reserves. With the best intentions in the world, I would've been unable to produce even the smallest beginning of a Patronus."

"I'm sorry, Severus," McGonagall said softly. "Albus did indeed tell me what happened to you, and I must say that I was particularly impressed. I…"

"One more word, Minerva, and I swear I'll find enough strength to send you headfirst into the fireplace," Snape warned gravely.

McGonagall nodded, her eyes softening. Then, quickly verifying that Harry wasn't listening at the door, she said, "That attack, earlier, Harry took part in it in spite of himself, didn't he?" she whispered.

Snape clenched his teeth. "Probably. But don't think of saying a word about it in front of him, or I'll—"

"Oh, enough threats, Severus," Minerva said, annoyed. "I understood very well that you wanted to leave Harry out of this, even though I don't know your motivations. The boy has the right to know he could be a danger to you."

"He isn't one," Snape retorted. "Harry's taken on enough guilt already over all that's happened this summer, and about all the bad things that could happen in the world. It's unthinkable that I'd inflict this on him without knowing more."

"Merlin, Severus," McGonagall said, looking at him strangely. "Albus warned me that things had changed considerably between the two of you in recent weeks, but I didn't think… I'm very happy about it, don't doubt, just surprised, given your shared history," the witch added quickly, seeing her colleague's eyes darken.

"You should be, whether you approve of it or not," he said curtly.

"The hostility is completely unnecessary, Severus. It's clear that Harry is deeply attached to you; one only needs to see he eyes when he looks at you, and Merlin as my witness, he would've done anything to protect you earlier."

Snape's features relaxed. "Harry still tends to over-react in this sort of situation. His emotional state for now is less than precarious. It will take him some time to recover, but he's well on his way. He still needs to understand that he mustn't in any case put himself in danger for me or anyone else, and that lesson risks being more complicated."

"After what you've done for him, it's entirely understandable," Minerva replied. "Harry needs you—that much is clear, and it's high time that someone's decided to fill that role for him."

"Excuse me?" Snape asked tersely.

"You know very well what I mean," Minerva answered. "I watched you with the boy; you're as protective and attentive as a hen with her brood. No need to deny it."

Shocked, the Potions master almost choked. He opened his mouth to express the depths of his thoughts to the old harpy who served has Head of Gryffindor, but she stopped him with a hand.

"Harry is on the stairs. Keep your vehement protests for another time, Severus, and go rest; you've well deserved it. I promise to let you insult me to your heart's content when you return to Hogwarts."

Snape gave her a withering look as he got up stiffly from his armchair, and headed for Harry, who'd just entered the room.

"How do you feel?"

"Good, thanks. Just a bit shaken," Harry said.

"Do you need a calming potion, or a strengthening one? You used considerable energy with that Patronus."

"Actually, I feel a bit less 'electric', if you know what I mean. I think I needed to use my magic to let off a bit of steam. So, no, that won't be necessary, thanks, Pro…Severus."

Snape gave him a subtle smile. "That's good to know; we should not forget that in the future." Then, narrowing his eyes, he motioned almost imperceptibly with his head toward the witch standing near the fireplace. Harry shrugged slightly in reply to his questioning eyes. He didn't mind staying with McGonagall. For a reason he couldn't put his finger on, he was no longer afraid of her.

Harry smiled. In the end, he'd been wrong. He could easily communicate with Snape without a word, even without the aid of Animagus telepathy.

"You know where to find the tea and all the rest. I'll leave you to take care of your guest. If anything happens, I'll be in my room," he finally said with a pointed look. "Anything at all, Harry, all right?"

The boy nodded. He would've preferred to transform into the cat and follow the professor to his room, to be sure that all was well, but he doubted that Snape would appreciate that.

The Potions master opened the door, then, before turning to the Head of Gryffindor, who'd studiously observed this exchange.

"As for you, Minerva, be advised—solely make my cat ill-at-ease, and you'll find yourself back at Hogwarts before you have time to bat your tail, in a manner you wouldn't appreciate."

With that, he closed the door behind him and mounted the steps, as dignified and quickly as his muscles would allow.

McGonagall and Harry waited a few instants before sitting in their chairs and letting out a sigh.

"Sorry, Professor. He's always a bit grumpy when he's not feeling well. He doesn't want you to think he's weak, I suppose," Harry offered.

Minverva let out a little laugh. "Oh, on certain points, Severus will never change. I learnt long ago not to take offense. Speaking of this, Harry…'Severus'?" she asked with a slight smile.

Harry felt himself blush. "Yes, well, he told me to call him that after…" He shook his head. "It's a bit complicated, but I try. He's managed to call my Harry, after all."

Minerva nodded fondly. "It's clear he's very taken with you, Harry. I've never seen Severus so protective of anyone. At least, not since…" She stopped. "I'm very happy for you, even if I regret that it took such tragic events to bring the two of you together."

Harry fidgeted uncomfortably in his chair. "It's complicated. But yeah, Severus has been great to me. I don't know how I could ever return the favor, but I'm going to try. I only hope things won't change too much at Hogwarts."

"That will be another challenge, I suppose," McGonagall agreed. "But you seem to have the situation well in hand, from what I've been able to see."

"Anyway, I'm not sure I'm in a hurry to go back to Hogwarts," Harry admitted. "I feel pretty good here."

"Yes," Minerva said as she glanced about the room. "I can certainly understand that. I would've never suspected that Severus lived in a manor like this. I must say, I'm rather impressed."

"You've never come before?" Harry asked, astonished.

"I doubt that anyone from Hogwarts has ever been here, outside of Professor Dumbledore. Severus is very jealous of his private life." She seemed on the verge of adding something, but then changed her mind.

"I'm sorry about my reaction before," Harry went on, sincerely contrite. "I don't know what came over me…or rather, I know what it is, and it had nothing to do with you. I truly am sorry; I hope I didn't hurt you."

"No, nothing serious, thank you. Professor Dumbledore explained the situation, and I suppose I can understand your reaction. Severus' idea of my taking my other form was truly an excellent one, though."

"That was his idea?" Harry exclaimed, incredulous. Snape hadn't seemed to particularly appreciate his colleague's presence, however.

"Indeed, and I was rather surprised he'd suggest for me to come here, to a place where you'd feel more at ease for this confrontation. I'd never imagined to one day have the chance to put my paws on Severus Snape's territory," she finished with a laugh.

But Harry didn't laugh. "You…the two of you don't get on very well, do you? It's not just that you're Head of Gryffindor and him of Slytherin?"

Minerva's gaiety dissolved immediately. "Oh, Harry. It's…rather complicated, in truth."

"I'd really like to understand, if that's all right with you," Harry said softly. "I haven't known the professor for very long, not really…and he doesn't talk about himself much."

Minerva sighed as she groped for words. "Very well. Severus and I have a long history. I first had him as a student during his seven years at Hogwarts, and in hindsight, I must confess that I was probably particularly unfair to him. The fact that he was always at odds with your father, Sirius and Remus…  I had a bit of a weak spot for them, and Severus played the part of the villain only too well. The fact that he became a Death Eater, the death of your parents, Harry…. All that just served to reinforce the prejudices I held against him, and I fear I wasn't very welcoming when he came to Hogwarts as a professor. Albus instated him as Potions professor, and most of the other professors were rather reticent about him, despite the trust the Headmaster showed in him.

"Severus has never been the sort of person who cared to make himself liked. He is so very proud…when I finally admitted there was something in him that he didn't want to be seen, years had passed, and I suppose there was too much water under the bridge for us truly be friends. We ended by treating each other courteously, however, as much as Severus' permanent sarcasm can be considered as such."

Harry remained silent for a long moment, as if he were running over the story in his head. "He's not like that, you know," he said at last. "His way of speaking, and being, is just…I imagine he doesn't care what other people think of him. But he's really intelligent, and nice. Oh Merlin, don't ever tell him I said that—he'd strangle me on the spot."

Minerva laughed quietly. "Oh, I doubt that; he'd cut off his arm before doing harm to his precious cat!" Then she added more seriously, "I don't know Harry. No one ever doubted that Severus Snape was one of the most intelligent wizards of his generation. He's certainly very arrogant, but often rightfully so. Do you know he was the youngest Potions master in over three centuries? He was in Voldemort's service at the time, and I doubt that his master bothered to congratulate him on the matter, but it's really an accomplishment. And I don't doubt either that he is…nice," she chuckled. "Certainly not after this afternoon, and even before that, it's undeniable that I'd misjudged him for a long time. I've certainly wronged him more than I'd like to admit, but Severus isn't a very approachable man when it comes to apologies."

"He forgave me," Harry said.

Minerva smiled. "In that precise case, I doubt that required a serious compromise to his dignity.  Severus probably had to face up to more than one revelation over the course of this summer, starting with the fact that you weren't James."

"Yes, that's what he said. In a way, I think he's also made his peace with him," Harry said, thinking about the apparition of the Marauders in the cemetery. "But…I'm not sure I could do as much as he did. My father was really horrible to Severus, you know."

He saw the Head of Gryffindor pale. "I'm aware of that, and my manner of dealing with James and Sirius and their misbehavior very likely contributed to making Severus even more bitter. I didn't know at the time…" She shook her head. "No matter. I'm hoping to see in this invitation here today a sort of cease fire…even though I have no doubt that he made it solely in your interests," Minerva finished with a little smile. "And I must say that fact makes him eminently nice to me."

"Try not to say that to him either," Harry said. "I doubt he'll appreciate the word 'nice.'"

Minerva began to laugh again. "Sweet, perhaps?"

"You're trying to kill him with a heart attack!" Harry said, his turn to laugh now.

"Oh, Harry, it's truly good to see you in good health again," McGonagall said at last, when she'd become serious once again. "We were so worried about you this summer."

"That's thanks to Snape," Harry insisted, determined not to miss an opportunity. "He's been amazing."

"You don't need to tell me that, Harry," McGonagall said. "Professor Dumbledore explained everything to me. If I'd known your family was treating you that way…" She sighed. "It seems we're destined to make the same mistakes over and over. Harry, I want you to know that if you need anything, you can come to me at any time. I know Professor Snape's taking good care of you now, but you shouldn't hesitate for a second if the necessity arises. Being an Animagus sometimes turns out to be very useful. I hope we can continue with our sessions at Hogwarts."

Harry nodded. "I'd like that a lot. And yes, I know I can come to you, Professor. What happened at Malfoy Manor…it's still there in my head, but I know you had nothing to do with that. It'll just take some time for…all that to sink in, I imagine. I'm really happy you came; it was good to see you. And maybe I'll do better in Transfigurations, now that I can change into a cat."

"I wouldn't expect anything less, especially given your OWL results," the professor replied.

"My results! I've not got them yet; the letter mustn't have been able to reach me."

"Oh, I know from a reliable source that Professor Dumbledore gave your letter to Severus, after he changed your Potions mark…a highly irregular thing to do, I must say; I'm not sure I approve."

"I repeated the classes this summer," the boy defended himself. "I assure you, Professor, I put a lot of effort into it. I'll ask Severus for my letter this evening; I didn't think of that before; I've had a lot on my mind."

"No doubt," McGonagall said, her tone softening.

"Do you know who'll be Defense professor this year?" Harry asked to change the subject.

"He was just named today, and I can say with certainty that you know him as well. I think you'll like the classes this year, especially after the last professor's performance."

Her delighted mood didn't inspire enthusiasm in Harry. "No, not Snape! He can't take that position, he didn't accept, did he? He can't, not with his powers!"

"Merlin, Harry, no!" Minerva exclaimed. "I didn't know you knew that…maybe it'd be best for Professor Dumbledore to inform you in due time."

"I hate when they hide things from me," Harry grumbled.

"It's not a matter of hiding anything from you, but of clearly explaining what's happened. I don't think I'm the best person to do that," McGonagall firmly replied.

Harry became sullen, but didn't answer. His Head of House could be perfectly stubborn, and he had no intention of spoiling their new understanding. If he wanted her and Snape to get along, this sort of subject easily risked undermining his efforts.

"Do you want some tea?" he asked at last.

"With a hint of milk, if possible," McGonagall agreed.

Harry set to work, preferring to heat the water directly over the fire. Unwise to use his powers any more than necessary, especially after this afternoon.

They drank their tea, comfortably settled in front of the fireplace, Minerva bringing Harry up to speed on the last classes, and the health of his Gryffindor friends. Time passed quickly, and they were both surprised when they head Snape's footsteps on the stairs.

Harry got up quickly to meet him, but McGonagall held him back by the arm.

"Harry, one last thing…" She handed him an envelope, urging him to put it away in his robes. "Open it when you've calmed down."

The door opened, and Harry, intrigued, nodded as he put the envelope into his pocket.

"Severus, how are you feeling?" Minerva was the first to ask.

"Better, thank you. Harry, do you feel ready to go to Hogwarts? It'll only be a matter of an hour or two, I think."

Harry felt his heart constrict, watching the professor casually swallow down two potions, but he agreed. Snape's features were more relaxed, and he was clearly no longer suffering.

"Do you want me to transform?" Harry asked.

"That'd be preferable."

The black cat jumped quickly to his shoulder under McGonagall's bemused eyes; she'd also retaken her Animagus form.

"Don't even think about it, Minerva," Snape sneered. "You're much too heavy and old for that little stunt."

The cat crept in his direction, clearly outraged, but Severus paid it no attention.  Throwing a handful of powder into the fireplace, he announced his destination. "Dumbledore's office, Hogwarts!"

The three of them stepped through the flames and an instant later found themselves in the décor of the familiar office.

The tabby quickly took its leave, without troubling itself with formalities. Clearly vexed, Snape thought with a slight smile. This situation was going to furnish him with a new arsenal of sarcasm for the old Gryffindor, and he was delighted in advance.

"Well, well," said a voice from behind them. "I see you've managed to bring the two cats back in one piece, Severus. The session went well?"

Irritated, Snape turned to face Dumbledore. "Minerva didn't alert you, then? The session, as you say, was interrupted by an attack from Voldemort."

The Headmaster froze at his words, and motioned for him to take a chair as he sat behind his desk. "Severus, what happened? Was anyone hurt?"

"No," Snape replied. At this word, Shadow jumped to the floor and transformed.

"That's not true! Professor, Voldemort attacked Severus through his Mark, and it was really disturbing! I had to push the Dementors away before—"

"Easy, Harry. I'd like to hear this story from the beginning, if possible," Dumbledore said as he lifted a hand.

Harry looked toward Snape, who was watching him, deeply annoyed. "Sit down," he ordered. "Albus, it was nothing so dramatic, by a long shot. Voldemort tested his strength through the Mark, and certain circumstances occurred so that his attempt had unexpected consequences."

"Not so dramatic? You couldn't even stand on your feet!" Harry protested before shrinking back at the professor's dark look.

"Very well," Dumbledore said calmingly. "Severus, perhaps you could start?"

"It happened just after Minerva arrived," the Potions master began. "I left the two cats to do their exercises in their corner, while busying myself with my plants, and a storm started to form."

"A natural storm?" the Headmaster questioned.

"In all probability, yes. The air had been heavy for several hours. Be that as it may, Voldemort did indeed attack me through the Mark at the moment when the storm broke out. I think it was more a matter of an attempt to test the wards…and the effectiveness of the Mark."

"From this I deduce that it's still active," Dumbledore sighed.

Snape nodded. "I was taken by surprise. But I no longer had enough magic at the moment to counter the effects, and the intensity of the attack only increased. After which…" He briefly paused. "Harry and Minerva reached me. The storm had broken out, and we should've gone in, but I was incapable of moving myself. The pain wiped out my strength for a moment, and I became rather oblivious to what was happening around me."

He looked impassively at Harry, signaling for him to continue.

The boy swallowed once, and took up the account for him. "I…I was a bit panicked, I think. When Professor McGonagall wanted to help Severus, I thought she was trying to hurt him, that maybe it was her fault… I cast a spell at her to make her go away."

The two wizards stared at him, their faces impassive.

"The professor transformed into a cat and then hid, I think, for a moment. I was looking everywhere to see where the attack could be coming from, if Voldemort was close somewhere, like the last time. But with the rain and the clouds, it was really difficult to see. Not being sure, I wanted to cast a Patronus, but that didn't work. I tried several times, but nothing came of it. Well…I think."

He was quiet for a moment, groping for the words to go on. It was finally Snape who said it for him.

"It would appear that Harry in reality spoke the incantations in Parseltongue, and it's possible that in trying to send the Dementors away, he instead called them," he explained.

"The same way as Voldemort…" Dumbledore murmured.

Harry slumped slightly, and Snape narrowed his eyes. "With Voldemort's powers, yes," he corrected. "That's what seems the most likely."

That was hardly better, Harry thought, but all the same a bit more reassuring.

"Anyway, they came," Harry continued. "All around the Manor, up above it, it got even darker and there were a lot of them…and I could communicate with them. A little, anyway. They were looking for something, but they weren't there to attack. I think they were just waiting for me to tell them what to do."

"All this had to be rather disturbing for you, my boy," Dumbledore said sympathetically.

"I don't know, I didn't really think about it, I just wanted it to stop. I think McGonagall was talking to me, but I didn't pay attention. I was somewhere else. I wanted to understand. And then I heard my name, and I turned, and I saw that Professor Snape had called me. He asked me to cast a Patronus, but I knew I couldn't do it…so he gave me his wand."

"Severus?" Dumbledore asked, his eyes glittering.

Snape nodded. "Harry had already used my wand before to push back Dementors. He just had to think of something positive…and not cast the spell in Parseltongue. A distraction, in short."

"And it worked," Harry said. "I was able to cast a Patronus, like usual, except it was much bigger and powerful, and this sort of silver mist started to come up all around us. After that, the Dementors left and we were able to go in."

"How long did Voldemort's attack last, Severus?"

"In total, probably about ten minutes. It gradually diminished in intensity, and I was able to manage better after the Dementors left and I'd had a few potions. I've a feeling that this short attack greatly reduced Voldemort's resources," Snape replied.

Dumbledore looked at him for a long moment, and it seemed to Harry that more was communicated by the two men's eyes than what had actually been said.

"I'll have to study this question more closely," the Headmaster finally stated. "Hopefully these attacks will not be repeated. Do you know if there's something to be done to counter them, Severus?"

"Nothing very effective, to my knowledge. A few spells to lessen their effects, painkilling potions. I assume, however, that Voldemort cannot sustain this level of intensity permanently, even in normal circumstances. Currently, he is weak, and now that I've been forewarned, I'll be certain to never be caught without a potion at hand."

Dumbledore slowly nodded. "We'll do some research, my boy. We'll find a solution."

Snape agreed quickly, clearly not convinced.

"As for you, Harry, you've demonstrated considerable self-control, and I congratulate you for it. Mastering your powers is a priority, but you must also be careful to keep your impulses under control. Professor McGonagall could've been seriously hurt, you realize?"

Harry straightened, uncomfortable. "I know, Professor, I'm sorry. And not only for that, but for what I said to you yesterday. I know you're not like Voldemort. I…I lost control of myself a bit, I guess. I really didn't believe it, sorry."

His tone was more sincere than he'd expected. But after all, he knew from the bottom of his heart that Dumbledore deserved this apology. Severus had been right: he was doing his best, even if this 'best' wasn't always to Harry's taste.

He looked toward Severus, who answered him with a brief narrowing of his eyes.

"Apology accepted, my boy," the Headmaster finally said. "I can appreciate your worries, Harry, and the intensity of your emotions after all you've gone through. But you must take into account your new powers, and the risks they present if you should lose control. Trust in your judgment, and don't allow every little thing to upset you."

Harry nodded, incapable of answering. The Headmaster smiled at him kindly, before standing. "Severus, we should talk about all of this again later. I was about to pay a visit to Remus Lupin; perhaps you'd like to go along with me?"

"I'll join you in a few moments; I'd like first to gather a few ingredients from my laboratory. Harry, I'll meet you there, if you like," the Potions master said as he took his turn to stand.

In place of a reply, Harry took his cat form and jumped to his usual place on Snape's left shoulder.

"I believe your cat prefers to go with you, Severus," Dumbledore said, his eyes sparkling with mirth.

Snape grumbled, but did nothing to make Shadow get down. "We'll be with you in a few minutes; it won't take long."

"Until later, then. Remus Lupin is still in the infirmary; you'll have no trouble finding him."

The way to the dungeons was quiet; the students were no doubt in class, and Severus seemed to know the less frequently used passageways to get from place to place in the castle. As soon as they entered the professor's familiar office, Shadow jumped to the floor, without bothering to transform. The office seemed larger this way, and full of strange odors…

"Don't put your nose in the drawers, you might regret it," Snape warned him.

Rummaging through the cupboards and various chests of drawers that filled the room, Snape quickly found what he'd come for. He was ready to leave again, when he noticed an envelope lying conspicuously on the table.

He recognized the handwriting at first glance; Draco Malfoy's pretentiously perfect calligraphy was inimitable.  Severus raised his wand and rapidly verified that the object wasn't cursed. Reassured on this point, he took the envelope and slipped it into his robes. That evening…he'd read it that evening, away from other eyes.  That'd be soon enough to know what the Malfoy heir had to say to him.

"Shadow, if you're ready…"

With no further urging, the cat jumped to his shoulder. Snape glanced one last time around the office. He shouldn't delay returning here, if he wanted to maintain any measure control over his students. His absence was certainly being taken for cowardice, but he hardly had a choice. Regretfully closing the door, he headed through the maze of corridors to the infirmary. This pathway, beside the great corridors, was certainly one of the ones he knew best. The door leading in from the side of the infirmary was largely unknown, and he stealthily entered the huge dormitory where he himself had spent so many nights.

A bit too stealthily perhaps, he thought an instant later, as the pieces of a conversation reached his ears. His spy reflexes were hardened, but he should've taken more care when he was in the company of Shadow, whose hearing was sharp.

"…but don't ask me to hurt Loki, Albus. Don't ask me that," Remus' voice pleaded calmly.

"I'd never demand that of you, my boy," Dumbledore answered. "But you know the situation we're in…"

Snape deliberately scraped the soles of his boots on the floor as he approached, and the voices stopped. On his shoulder, Shadow gently dug his claws into his cloak, clearly frustrated. Curiosity killed the cat, Snape thought. He'd have to talk to Harry about that as well, when the time was right.

The partition that hid the bed from view slid away, revealing a worried-looking Remus and a Dumbledore whose face was carefully composed.

"That was quick, Severus," he said in a tone which held a bit of reproach.

Snape didn't reply, contenting himself with pushing the cat to the floor with a shrug of his shoulder. Harry quickly took his human form.

"Remus, are you doing better?" he asked, half-worried, half-relieved, at the sight of his friend sitting up in bed.

"Yes, Harry, thanks," Lupin answered. "Professor Dumbledore told me you had some new adventures this afternoon."

Harry nodded. "Nothing serious, it turns out. But lost control a bit. I attacked McGonagall."

"Professor McGonagall," Remus corrected. "There're situations where staying in control of yourself is almost impossible. I’m in a position to know that."

Yes, Harry thought, suddenly struck by the parallel. Remus didn't have control over his reactions either, when he was in his werewolf form.

"…but you have the means of controlling this power, and of doing something extraordinary with it. Don't miss out on that, Harry," Remus continued.

The boy nodded. "I'm practicing, Remus, promise."

Lupin smiled. "We'll have the chance to take up our lessons again soon. Even though after your accomplishments of this past year, I doubt you need my advice. I hope you'll want to help me in class, Harry. That would be an excellent way of motivating the other students."

"In class?" Harry stammered. "How so, in class?"

"Professor Dumbledore convinced me to return as Defense instructor this year, since it seems the position is vacant."

"Professor? But I thought you couldn't any longer…now that everyone knows…" Harry glanced quickly at Severus, whose face, always impassive, didn't show the slightest emotion. Still, it was because of Snape that Remus had had to leave in the first place.

"Professor Dumbledore was able to convince the Board that having a werewolf on our side in the castle would be a good thing, after last night's attack. It remains to be seen if parents will accept it as well, of course, but that can wait until I've recovered enough strength to take up my duties," Remus explained.

Definitely, Harry thought, everyone seemed to be having trouble recovering their strength, these days…except for himself. He doubted that the news pleased Severus, though. Actually, he wasn't sure that it pleased him either.

"The position is cursed, Remus, you know that!"

"It's only for a year," Lupin said soothingly. "I don't intend to stay in it permanently. And I could finally spend some time with you; I know I've been away more than I've been around lately. It wasn't my own wish, I hope you know that, Harry. I'm finally going to be able to make up for lost time."

Harry knew it, but that didn't make up for Remus not being there. And something else disturbed him, something that definitely wasn't coming from Remus…a confused feeling of deep hostility that was foreign to him. A movement behind him was enough to make him realize the origin of these waves of anger: Severus, who obviously didn’t appreciate someone getting too close to his cat.

Or was this only a quirk of his imagination? Of his own desires? Severus jealous over him?

In any case, it was up to him to act. He loved Remus, of course he loved him…but he had to set the record straight right away, before Severus found another reason to hate his former enemy.

"Thanks, Remus, I know," he replied as he took a step backward, to stand beside Severus. "I'm sure it'll be great to have you in class. And for us to see each other, from time to time," he made clear.

As if he'd understood his intention, Severus placed an arm around his shoulders, like he'd already done a bit earlier that day. There was something in the gesture that was perhaps subtly more possessive, Harry thought, but he didn't appreciate it any less.

"Perhaps it would be time to go home," Severus suggested, at Remus' slightly defeated expression. Then, turning to the boy, he said, "Do you want me to come back and get you later?"

Harry hesitated for an instant, then shook his head. "No, I'm starting to get a bit tired, after all. I don't think I've realized how tense I've been. I'm rather anxious to be home," the boy confessed.

Snape smiled at him, a sincere smile that touched him almost as much as his restraint.

"Home, in that case."

Remus seemed to have great difficulty hiding his bewilderment, as the boy told him goodbye. Harry wasn't certain waht he was going to have to do to make Remus accept the situation, if that were even possible, but he had it in his head that the werewolf would be less sensitive about this subject than Severus. Or perhaps simply different. He didn't know if Lily, James and Sirius had wanted this…and he had a hard time imagining himself being able to tell Remus about it. Not yet, not now.

He felt someone push him gently by his shoulders, and an instant afterward, he was walking in the corridor, Severus still at his side.

"Do you have need of fresh potions, Albus?"

"If you have the chance, that would definitely be a good thing," Dumbledore replied, having left along with them. "Effective potions for werewolves are rather difficult to find."

"I don't have any in stock, but I have what's needed to prepare them quickly. I'll send them to you tonight."

Dumbledore solemnly nodded as they came to the stairway leading to his office. "Severus, would it be possible to speak to you in private for a few moments?" he asked softly.

"Out of the question to leave Harry here, if that's what you intend."

"He can wait in your office, then?" Dumbledore suggested.

"Alone, certainly not."

"Uh," Harry interrupted. "He is standing here, right under your noses. If you absolutely have to tell your little secrets, I can just as well go back and stay with Remus."

The two wizards looked at him, inscrutable.

"I don't think that's a good idea," Dumbledore finally offered. "Perhaps you could go on to the Manor in advance, if that doesn't bother you."

But before Harry could reply, Severus spoke. "I'd prefer not, after the events of this afternoon. Where has Professor McGonagall gone? If she'd make up her mind to fill her role as Head of Gryffindor, it wouldn't be too soon," he grumbled

"It seems to me that Minerva is in class, but I could still ask—"

"Ask Dobby," Harry interrupted. "That wouldn't bother him. He can stay with me in the office, and if anything comes up, he can Apprarate me to the kitchens, or I could go directly back to the Manor. Honestly, it's not as if a werewolf is going to jump me the moment I'm alone. I'm going to have to come back to Hogwarts at some point, you realize."

The two wizards considered him again, this time thoughtfully.

"That's not a bad idea," Snape finally admitted. "Wait for me in my office until I come back; I will not be long. Dobby!"

He'd scarcely said the name when the house-elf appeared, all excited at the sight of the boy smiling at him.

"Master Harry Potter! Dobby is so happy to see you after these horrible attacks! Dobby was very worried to not see Harry Potter return!"

"I'm sorry you were worried, Dobby," the boy said sincerely. "I was safe, and everything's fine now…at least, I suppose it is," he said with an accusatory look for Snape and Dumbledore.

"Dobby," the Headmaster said in his most amiable of voices, "would it inconvenience you to watch over Mister Potter's safety for a few minutes, while Professor Snape and I have a little discussion?"

"Dobby would give his life for Harry Potter! Dobby would never let anyone hurt Harry Potter! No, no, as Dobby lives, no one—"

"That won't be necessary, Dobby," Harry interrupted him. "Could you just Apparate us into Professor Snape's office? That's possible, isn't it, I mean with the Anti-Apparation wards…"

"Of course, Harry Potter, sir, house-elves can. Dobby will take Harry Potter right away! Right away!"

"Very good," Harry said as he laughed. "See you later, I suppose."

Snape nodded. "Try not to stick you nose everywhere. That would be unwise."

"I believe you've already told me that today, Professor, you're going soft in the head!" Harry laughed.

"Insolent brat," the Potions master growled. "Out of my sight before I decide to take points from Gryffindor, even though you've not returned to classes."

"Lead the way, Dobby," Harry said, holding onto the elf at the shoulder, a big smile on his face. The two of them disappeared with a pop, leaving the two men standing there.

"Well, Severus, Harry seems very decidedly at ease with you these days," Dumbledore pointed out, his eyes sparkling more than ever.

"That brat needs a good lesson in respect," the professor grumbled as they went up the stairway leading to the office.

"Oh, I doubt he'll receive it," the Headmaster chuckled. "I never thought to be able to say it one day, Severus, but I suspect you're completely incapable of severity with the boy.

Snape groaned as he fell into an armchair. "He's hardly given me reason to be, up to this point. He's…terribly emotional, actually."

"And lovable," Dumbledore added, clearly hiding a small laugh in his beard.

"Very well, old man, you've made your point. What is your next plan of attack—make me sign an acknowledgment of excessive indulgence, and wall him off in the Gryffindor common room?" the professor ground out.

"I wouldn’t go that far, no; I don't think that'd be very useful anyway; the rumors of it would have arrived ahead of me long before," the Headmaster said, laughing softly.

"Spare me your sarcasm and get to the facts," Snape said dryly.

"Oh, admit that it's just a return of the favor, Severus. Well, well, the facts, then…" Dumbledore sat down, and took a few moments to compose himself. "I must confess that the events of this afternoon concern me, even worry me. Your wand, Severus, I don't believe I'm wrong in saying it possesses the same protections as formerly?"

Snape nodded slowly. "I checked it again after Harry used it the first time. The protections are still in place."

"And your Mark awakened when Harry spoke the incantation in Parseltongue, didn't it?"

Severus sighed. "It had already been activated by then. But yes, I think it was his actions that gave the attack so much power. In wanting to repel it, he unwillingly participated," Severu explained, as if reluctant. "He'll learn to master his powers. While waiting, it's out of the question to speak to him about it, Albus."

"I understand your point of view, and I'll respect your choice. My own proved sufficiently disastrous this summer. But Severus, you know what all of this means, and the consequences it could produce."

Snape stiffened. "I've thought about it. But it's only one possibility."

"Severus," Dumbledore said in a conciliatory voice, "perhaps it'd be best for you to stay away from Harry, at the very least until you've regained your strength. That would be wise, given the circumstances."

"Wise?" Severus exploded. "With Loki on a mission at Hogwarts, and Harry's emotional instability? He must remain at the Manor, and he must rest and regain his confidence in himself. Whatever happens…we'll deal with it as we go along."

"You realize the danger that might represent for both of you, Severus?"

But Snape shook his head. "It'd be worse if it were otherwise. He could call Dementors…or even worse, and nothing could protect him."

Dumbledore nodded. "I expected that answer. But you must be careful, extremely careful…and don't hesitate to keep me informed of the slightest development; it could be crucial. Whatever that may be, Severus."

"I'll not fail to do that. I'm counting on you for the research, Albus. Harry and the potions are taking up all of my time, and I'm not so efficient these days. I will let you know as soon as it's possible for me to resume my position," he assured him.

"Don’t' worry about that, Severus. Your current work is much more important," Dumbledore reassured him.

But Snape frowned. "It's not work, Albus. I'm not doing it for you. Let there be no ambiguity on this subject: Harry's welfare stands above all the rest."

"I've never doubted that, Severus. From that perspective, we're working together."

Snape arose, soon followed by Dumbledore. "If that's all you had to tell me, Albus…"

The Headmaster smiled. "For now, yes. I'll leave you to join our young friend. I fear, though, that he overhead a bit more of my conversation with Remus than he would've liked."

"I'll try to keep his mind off Loki as much as possible. Even though, knowing Harry, that will be precisely the subject he'll choose to take up again and again," Snape ground out.

"Yes, Harry has a certain intuition concerning sensitive subjects…and unfortunately, an infuriating tendency to imagine the worst. I'll leave you to deal with that how you see fit, Severus, but try to remember that it's Remus' wish that Harry not be informed, for as long as is possible."

"Remus Lupin has never been anything but a monumental problem, and he'll remain one. But he's right on this point. Harry would be too influenced, and Lupin knows it. Nothing good would come of it. Keep me informed if the werewolf needs potions; it's really not the time to lose him. If you'll excuse me, I'd like to take Harry back to the Manor posthaste."

"Do it, my boy, do it," Dumbledore replied as the Potions master took the stairs. "And take care of yourself, Severus."

But the door had already closed again.

***

If he'd found moving about by Floo unpleasant before, Harry quickly realized that Apparating with an elf was a much more trying experience.

Barely holding himself upright in the office, he closed his eyes for an instant to try and convince his stomach to stay out of his throat. A few seconds later, he was able to straighten up, and missed overturning two bottles with questionable contents, as he found himself face to face with two bulbous eyes staring at him, full of worry.

"Is Harry Potter sick? Dobby knows how to heal Harry Potter, he just needs to chew a harpy fingernail and to—"

"Thanks, Dobby, I'm fine," Harry interrupted him, feeling his stomach lurch again. "It'll pass on its own, really. Thanks for agreeing to come with me.  I've had enough discussions and whispering for the day…" Then, seeing Dobby's worried look, he added, "Did you know I can change into a cat now?"

"Dobby knows," the elf replied in a little admiring voice. "The elves talked a great deal this summer. Harry Potter was in great danger. But he is very, very powerful now, Dobby can see it."

"See it?" Harry asked skeptically.

"Yes, Harry Potter, sir," Dobby went one. "The elves have the means to feel the magic of wizards.  And Harry Potter's magic is much more powerful than before, much more powerful than that of other wizards…even that of the Headmaster, Harry Potter," he whispered as he looked around, as if he expected to be punished for his offense.

"More…more magic than Dumbledore? Dobby, are you sure?" Harry asked, astounded.

"Much more," Dobby agreed frenetically. "A magic that moves, that moves a great deal. Professor Dumbledore was the most powerful wizard before, Harry Potter, but he's far behind now. And Professor Snape as well."

"Can you sense his magic, Dobby? The professor's? Does he have enough left?" Harry asked eagerly.

Dobby hesitated for an instant. "Professor Snape has much magic, Harry Potter. But it cannot answer him anymore, for now."

Harry shook his head. Dobby wasn't telling him anything new. What he could tell him, on the other hand… A thin smile stretched his lips. "Dobby, tell me, who is the most powerful wizard that you know? Dumbledore?"

"Yes, Harry Potter, sir!" Dobby answered, nodding his head enthusiastically. "But Harry Potter has more magic now. Much, much more!"

"And after the Headmaster, Dobby. Who comes after him?"

Dobby shuddered. "It's the wizard He Who Must Not Be Named, Harry Potter. Bad magic, dark, very dark."

Harry stayed silent for a moment, considering what Dobby had just told him. "So that means that…I'm not more powerful than Voldemort?"

"Harry Potter has more magic," the elf confirmed. "But the dark wizard…he knows powerful spells, Harry Potter, sir. He knows how to call things that shouldn't be to help him. It's bad, bad magic!"

Harry nodded. Yes, bad magic, in reality. "And after him, Dobby? Who has the most magic?"

Once again, Dobby hesitated. "Dobby knows many wizards, but he doesn't know them all. The most powerful wizard that Dobby knows after the wizard He Who Must Not Be Named is Professor Snape, Harry Potter, but he can't use his powers now."

Harry felt as if he'd just received a blow to his chest. "Snape? Snape, after Voldemort? Does Voldemort know? Does anyone know that?" he choked out.

"No, Harry Potter, only the elves can see the magic of wizards, but very few wizards know this. They wouldn't be happy if they knew, not happy that the elves know."

"That's for certain…"Harry murmured. "I won't say anything, don't worry. I wonder if Snape knows…"

"Professor Snape knows the elves very well, Harry Potter. He knows what the elves are capable of."

"Really?" Harry asked, astonished again. Hadn't Severus said, though, that he didn't trust house-elves?

"Yes, Harry Potter. Professor Snape used to come to the kitchens often to see the elves when he was a student. And when he came back as a professor, he hadn't forgotten the elves that he'd known, no, no, he came to see them, from the very first day. The first day, Harry Potter! The old elves here knew Severus Snape very well, and they all would die for him, Harry Potter! Yes, all of them! Severus Snape is a great wizard!"

Harry decided to sit down for a moment, contemplating what the elf had just told him. He'd learnt more about Severus today than he had in six years at Hogwarts. How the young Severus had come to seek refuge in the kitchens with the house-elves, while Professor McGonagall had confessed having been unfair to him during his school years. She'd been right on one point, in any case. There was certainly more to Severus than he'd like to let on.

Steps rang out in the corridor, and Harry felt his heart skip a beat as he recognized the familiar footsteps. Snape entered the office, and it seemed to Harry that a quick flash of relief spread through the black eyes when he saw him, sitting in the armchair.

It was toward Dobby that he turned, however. "Thank you, Dobby. All went well, I imagine?" he asked.

"Very well, Professor Snape, sir! Harry Potter was sick after Apparating, but he's better now," squeaked the elf, bending over to make little bows with which Harry was familiar.

Snape nodded. "Thank you for your service. You can return to your work."

With one last bow, Dobby turned to Harry. "Until later, Harry Potter, sir! Dobby is always here to serve you! Always!"

"Thanks, Dobby," Harry said with a smile, "for everything."

"That elf is by far the most talkative I've ever met," Snape commented as he threw a fistful of Floo powder into the fire.

Harry couldn't help but smile. Severus had no idea how…

That evening, exhausted by their day, the two wizards went up to bed early. After a long relaxing shower, Harry had only one wish: to sleep twelve hours straight, without nightmares, if possible, and to forget the events of the day. At least, certain of them. In particular, the fact of having called the Dementors, and the sight of Severus cut to the ground by the pain, clutching his Mark and struggling not to cry out.

What he didn't want to forget, on the other hand, was that feeling of deep peace that he'd felt several times during that day. He thoughts were interrupted, though, by a rustling of paper when he laid his robes on a chair. Intrigued, he rummaged in the pocket and found there the envelope that McGonagall had given him earlier.

More curious than ever, he sat comfortably on his bed to open it. The envelope contained only a single piece of glossy paper, but the image he saw paralysed Harry. It couldn’t be…how had she been able….

The Polaroid, he remembered. The same one that the Head of Gryffindor had used to take Lily and Severus' picture. He'd not noticed Minerva taking this one, but he could guess exactly when she'd taken it, a few seconds before she'd transformed into a cat, when they'd been coming back from the clearing.

In the photo, a smiling Snape, strangely relaxed and satisfied, walked beside a just as radiant Harry, an arm around his shoulder. The photo was so natural and gave off such an impression of peace and serenity that Harry felt his throat constrict. Putting a moment in a bottle. It was possible, after all. McGonagall had done it.

A wave of deep gratitude swept over Harry as he placed the photo on the bedside table, in plain sight, leaving the light on.

For McGonagall, for Severus, for that moment, for fate perhaps… For having given him that little moment, even if it were to never happen again.

But he had a strong intuition that he would happen again. A smile on his lips, the image of the photo engraved on his eyes, now closed, Harry fell into a peaceful sleep.

On the other side of the corridor, Severus Snape had followed a regimen very similar to that of the young Gryffindor, with a very different result.

Hot shower or not, Severus never managed to relax at the idea of having to sleep. Appreciating such a position of weakness was quite simply inconceivable to him, but it was also the noise of crumpled paper that reminded him of the presence of Draco Malfoy's letter in his pocket.

Groaning, he finally decided to tear it open, and took out a piece of carefully calligraphied parchment.

'Snape', the letter began.

In short, an ordinary start, but as he read the following sentence, Snape felt his throat constrict.

No, there was nothing ordinary about this letter, even for a student like Draco Malfoy. He'd been wrong to wait to read it, after all. He already knew that sleep would evade him this night.