The night dragged on, and Severus couldn't manage to sleep.  Betraying Voldemort hadn't bothered his conscience at all, and he certainly didn't miss his former associates.  Not a one of them, not even Lucius Malfoy, with whom he'd socialized since Hogwarts, and who'd initiated him into the Death Eater ranks.

Draco, on the other hand…Draco was a different story.  Snape couldn't help but feel a slight tug on his heartstrings as he thought of the little blond boy who'd always run to him when he was invited to Malfoy Manor.  No showy demonstrations of affection, no, for Lucius wouldn't have allowed it.  But the boy'd certainly been attached to Severus, over the course of his visits, and later during his private Potions lessons.  When he'd finally arrived at Hogwarts, Draco'd known more about the subject than any other student, and Snape had been proud of him.

A situation that unfortunately hadn't lasted.  It was no secret to anyone that he favored the students of his House outrageously, and everyone had expected that he'd be even more partial to Draco.  He'd not disappointed them, but this favoritism had cost him.

No, Draco had never been particularly modest or reasonable.  Lucius had indoctrinated him too much for him to turn out to be anything other than an insufferable, superior and scornful brat.  A bit of discipline and being treated as an equal of the other students hadn't done him any harm.  But it was impossible, of course.  Draco had played on his influence all through his school years, so sure of himself and the support of his protector. And Snape hadn't failed him…up until now.

Rubbing the parchment between his fingers, he reread the letter for what seemed to be the hundredth time that night.

It wasn't so much the sentence itself that'd kept him from sleeping.  After all, he'd received more than one death threat in his life.  No, what had pushed him to reread the letter in his hands, over and over, were the questions it raised.

So many 'ifs' in such a short missive, all things considered.  And this wasn't Draco's usual style, either.  Not enough big sentences or wordy expressions, and the handwriting was shaky.  What was he supposed to make of this?  Of what, precisely, was Draco trying to warn him, and why?  This letter didn't make any sense, and that disturbed Severus.  Keep his distance from the Slytherins….

The threats weren't a surprise.  He harbored no illusions over the feelings of the Death Eaters' children about him.  Lucius could've only had one good reason for leaving his precious heir at Hogwarts while most of his friends had been exiled to Durmstrang.  And Draco must've been more eager than ever for vengeance since his betrayal.  Lucius most certainly intended him to have a Death Eater career.  But hadn't he yet understood that his son didn't possess even the minimum of courage and loyalty necessary to stay alive for long, facing the Dark Lord?  Merlin, this letter proved it!  Draco was nothing but a little imbecile, but, a little imbecile whom he was going to have to be on his guard against, and that didn't please Snape.

Sighing, Snape cast a quick Tempus.  It wasn't yet midnight, and he'd promised some potions to Albus.  He'd hoped to be able to sleep for a few hours beforehand, but he knew he'd not manage that now.  As for preparing potions, it was still what relaxed him the most, after all.

Closing his door behind him, Severus paused for a moment in front of Harry's. Not a sound could be heard.  There wasn't much chance, though, that the boy was having a nightmare-free night after the day they'd had.   Slightly worried, he couldn't keep from opening the door to check that all was well.

For an instant, he thought Harry hadn't been able to fall asleep either.  The light was still on, and the boy was lying with his back to the door.  But no, Harry was fast asleep.  Severus went closer to extinguish the light at the bedside, and noticed the photo propped up in plain sight on the little table.

He stood frozen, holding his breath.  When?  Who?  He held back a groan. McGonagall, of course, that very afternoon.  So, the old magpie hadn't given up her infamous camera. It'd been a very long time since he'd been the victim of it, but he couldn't regret it this time. This photo was something…special.  He would've never pictured himself this way, so relaxed and obviously satisfied with the boy…  McGonagall's words sounded in his memory: Like a hen with her brood.   Was he so transparent?  Still, it was his habit to carefully control his emotions and reactions.  But Harry was changing that state of affairs, without a doubt.

And in the photo, Harry seemed especially happy.  Severus didn't recall having seen this expression on his face very often.  More often recently, perhaps.  Merlin, what had he got himself into?  The boy had left the photo there, in plain sight, and had clearly fallen asleep, looking at it.

Severus felt his chest constrict.  How long had it been since someone had been attached to him in this way?  Oh, pointless to even consider it—outside of Lily, no one had ever been interested in him enough to keep a photo of him.  Certainly not his family, and even less likely, his so-called friends.  And here the boy, who'd still hated him a few weeks ago, had let him into his life to the point of…what?  Jumping onto his shoulder?  Keeping a photo of them?  Listening to his advice?  Yes, all of that, and a bit more besides…

With a sigh, Snape extinguished the lamp, pushing some strands of hair from Harry's forehead as he did.

"Sleep well."

Checking the alarm spells a final time, he left the room with one last look at the photo.  If it weren't for his pride, he would've gladly asked McGonagall for a duplicate.

When Harry awakened the next morning, he was rather surprised at having passed an entire night without nightmares.  That said, he'd had bizarre dreams.  Something about Remus and wolves, a huge black wolf.  About Snape as well, who seemed furious with Remus, without Harry knowing why, as he tried to get away from the werewolf.  And McGonagall kept telling Severus not to give him any milk or fishcakes because they weren't good for him.   And hadn't there also been a question about mice at one point?  Shaking his head, Harry cast a Tempus.  Six o'clock.  He was up early this morning.  Maybe even early enough to get to the kitchen ahead of Severus.

A quick shower later, the boy slipped into the kitchen, which he found still empty, to his great satisfaction.  He thought for a moment of using his old Muggle methods, but Snape was right; he should practice.  Sighing, he took a loaf of bread and cut off a piece of it.

 A cloud of smoke erupted from the toast, which ended up as black as coal.  Groaning, Harry cut another slice of bread.  "Victus Coccere," he said with as little conviction as possible.

It wasn't perfect, but the toast was a bit more edible this time.  Three others were done before Severus made his entrance, alerted by the smell.

"Is this an attempt to set the Manor on fire?  There are much more efficient ways of doing that."

"It's an attempt at breakfast," the boy protested. "Did you ever think of buying a toaster?"

"Brilliant idea. If you overlook the fact that there isn't an electric line within thirty kilometers of here, of course."

"Small detail," Harry murmured as he burned another slice of toast under the professor's watchful eyes.

"Use less arc in your gesture," Snape directed. "Relax your fingers—your wand's not going to fly away.  That's better.  You got up early this morning; no nightmares, I assume?"

"No, but I had some fairly weird dreams.  You were in them, and you weren't in too good of a mood," Harry replied as he handed him the toast.

"What a surprise," Snape said sarcastically.  With a few motions, he made a complete breakfast appear and pushed Harry toward the dining room.

"It's still a bit annoying," Harry sighed. "I'm the one who's supposed to have the most powers, and I can't even make three pieces of toast, while you make an entire meal appear in two seconds."

"Eat. I'd rather you not poison yourself with your own food just now," Severus answered.  "You just need practice.  Or a house-elf."

"Oh, that last, I have one too many," the boy grumbled, becoming even gloomier.

Snape blinked rapidly. "Kreacher.  That's right.  He's still at Grimmauld Place, I assume."

"I rather think he took refuge at the Malfoys'.  That'd be best for him.  If I put a hand on that dirty little rat, his head will end up on the wall, along with his ancestors', before he has time to say 'Mudblood.'  It'd be a good chance to try out that spell you showed me, Sectumsempra.  It seemed interesting."

Severus felt the hair on the back of his neck stand on end, at the sight Harry's little smile as he said these words.  And that expression on his face…he was quite sure he'd never seen it before.

"Harry, he's only a house-elf," he pointed out calmly.

"No, he's a traitor and a murderer.  But I suppose he belongs to me, now that I've inherited Sirius' house.  Too bad for Kreacher, really."

No, Severus definitely didn't like this attitude.  And this sudden change of mood didn't bode well at all.  Was it just an impression, or had the pictures on the wall just started to shake?

"Kreacher behaved in a totally vicious manner, unworthy of his race, but he was pushed to it, Harry.  By his long isolation, and by the way Sirius treated him after he returned to Grimmauld Place."

"That's what you say!" Harry ground out, his eyes fiery. "And the way you treated Sirius?  You told him constantly how useless he was, when he hated being cooped up in that horrible house with that insufferable elf!  He would've never gone to the Ministry if you hadn't endlessly thrown that in his face!"

"I thought that was Kreacher's fault," Snape said sarcastically, trying to hide the sudden twitching in his hands.  The magic in the room was now palpable, and far from being light magic.  A bowl crashed suddenly to the floor, shattering into pieces, without the boy even noticing.  His eyes narrowed, Harry didn't seem to be aware of anything but his anger any longer.  Accidental magic, Snape concluded, and tainted with Voldemort's.   These mood swings and this violent anger weren't normal for Harry. Best not to make matters worse, and let the boy calm himself, if that were possible.

"Oh, that makes you happy, doesn't it?" Harry went on, unable to stop himself. "You hated him.  It was a good revenge, for sure: killed for nothing by Bellatrix.  I hate her," he growled, striking the table with is balled-up fists.  "When I've learnt to control my powers, I'm going to look for her, and I'll find her, and then…  She'll regret having ever raised her wand to anyone."

"That gives you quite a few people to kill," Severus noted lightly.  "Kreacher, Bellatrix, myself…"

Harry seemed to suddenly emerge from his trance, and looked at him, wide-eyed.  "That…that's not what I meant to say!"

"Really?" Snape asked.

"You know it isn't!" the boy retorted.  The pictures on the walls were shaking again.

"Sticking someone's head on the wall, even that of a house-elf, though, implies certain death."

"Yes, I mean, not you…  Oh, you know very well what I mean!"

"Indeed." Severus got up stiffly.  "Join me downstairs when you've finished eating; we have certain things to discuss."

Leaving his breakfast hardly touched, he strode from the room purposefully.  He didn't want to risk Harry's powers breaking out in a burst of anger, but he certainly wasn't going to participate in this game.  The boy needed some time to calm himself and think about what he'd just said, and Severus was going to leave him to it.

If he had to undertake the discussion to come with Harry on the defensive, and ready to jump up at every word, the Manor very well might not survive.  Without a backward glance, he shut the door behind him.

Alone in the dining room, Harry stared at his teacup, frustrated and unhappy.  He'd never thought of killing Snape, bloody hell, of course he hadn't.  He didn't even know anymore why he'd got so worked up to start with.  Ah, yes, Kreacher.  Oh well, Kreacher deserved death, and Snape knew it.

Oh, but Severus really liked the elves, according to Dobby.  And this one had got Sirius killed; Snape could only like him.

No, no, he caught himself, Snape wasn't like that.  Or was he?  In any case, accusing him of having caused Sirius' death had been unfair, and Harry felt a wave of remorse wash through him.

He had the right to hold it against Bellatrix and Kreacher, but not Snape, not after what he'd done for Harry.  Even if Snape had wanted Sirius to die, Harry didn't have the right to reproach him.  He was going to have to apologize to the professor.

Sighing, he pushed away the rest of his breakfast.  He really wasn't hungry anymore.  Time to join Snape in the laboratory and put an end to of all this straight off; he didn't like this heavy feeling in his chest that'd been there since the professor left.  He quickly vanished the plates and food from the table, then headed toward the dungeons, his footsteps heavy.

Severus hadn't wasted any time, he noted.  Several cauldrons were in the process of boiling, and the professor seemed absorbed in the reading of a formula, of which he was carefully following the instructions.

Harry hesitated on the threshold for an instant before going in.  "Listen, I'm sorry," he offered.

But Severus stayed silent.

"I shouldn't have talked to you like that, I regret it, really.  Your relationship with Sirius is none of my business."

Once again, a long silence.  Still a bit annoyed, Harry leant against the wall, his heart racing.  What was Snape waiting for from him?  Let him give him a punishment, if that could appease him.   Finally, Snape turned to face him, his eyes inscrutable.

"And Kreacher, Harry?  Was his relationship with your godfather any of your business?"

"You know very well what Kreacher did; you said it yourself earlier, it's unforgivable!" the boy shouted.

"I said that it was vicious," Snape corrected. "And traitorous.  And cowardly.  What he did is inexcusable, but not incomprehensible.  You have a right to be furious with him, Harry; he hurt you by betraying someone you loved.  But now, you hold his life in your hands, and killing him won't make you any less a murderer."

"I don't want to kill him," Harry admitted reluctantly.  "But he deserves to die. I'll send him to Hogwarts like you suggested; I just hope the other elves will treat him like he deserves."

"Meaning, how Sirius treated him?" Severus continued.

"That's not fair.  Sirius wasn't that bad with him.  He simply despised being there, and Kreacher constantly insulted him and told him he would've preferred his mother to be there."

"Kreacher was a slave, a being bound, body and soul, to a family and a house.  He had no choice over his actions, or very little; his only reason for living was to serve someone, and someone who didn't respect or appreciate him.  Do you find that fair?"

Harry swallowed hard.  "I…I don't know," he replied.  He hadn't considered things this way.  Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the professor reflexively lift his hand to his forearm.  His Mark…to have no choice over his actions…to serve someone who didn't respect him…  It was a good summary of a Death Eater's life, wasn't it?  Snape's, in particular.  But Sirius hadn't been like Voldemort, and Harry wasn't either!

Severus seemed to have followed his train of thought, for he interrupted him in an almost gentle voice.  "Kreacher had no choice, at any time, in what his life was, and his allegiances.  Except for what led to your godfather's death, obviously.  Don't be so quick to judge him, Harry.  Everyone needs a bit of compassion."

"Even Bellatrix?" Harry asked, his teeth clenched, still refusing to meet the professor's eyes.

"That's different," Snape sighed. Going to Harry, he set a hand on his shoulder and led him to his armchair, before settling himself in the one opposite.  "Bellatrix had a choice, and she chose to become a murderess and even worse.  The woman is probably no longer in possession of all of her faculties.   But be that as it may, she is fundamentally evil and perverse.  She deserves to be punished."

A gleam flashed through the boy's eyes.

"That doesn’t mean it's up to you to play judge and jury," Snape finally said, emphasizing each and every word.

But Harry shook his head.  "This is Bellatrix!  Wouldn't you do it if you had the chance?  An Avada and it'd all be over?  Don't you dare tell me you wouldn't do it!"

Severus took a deep breath.  "That, and probably a Cruciatus before it, if I had the time, because of what she did to you," he said at last.

Harry's eyes were at once defiant and uncertain now, but at least he was looking Snape in the eyes.

"Is that what you want, Harry?" he asked, his voice tremulous.  "To become like me?  Resemble a Death Eater who has nothing to lose, even his soul?  If I want to look after you, it's not so you can follow in my footsteps—just the opposite.  You are someone of character, but you often do not reflect enough, and you must learn that your actions have consequences.  But that lesson, I think, is starting to sink in…whatever the circumstances, you must not let anger and hatred cloud your judgment.  Bellatrix deserves death, and she'll certainly get it, but it's not up to you to take care of it."

"No, my own job is to kill Voldemort," the boy said dejectedly.  "Which will make me a murderer anyway."

"Yes, you'll have to do it," Snape agreed soberly.  "But when that day comes…why will you do it?"

"To stop him, of course," Harry replied, shuddering.  "He's monstrous and if he were to take power…  I'm the only one able to stop him; I have to do it.  He's already done enough harm as it is.  And so he has to pay.  For my parents, for Sirius, for the Longbottoms…"

"The list is long," Severus interrupted him. "But your first reason was perfectly valid. It's especially unfair that you're the one to do it, but it would appear that you have no choice.  You can only choose the way you'll accomplish this task…and it must not be with hatred and bitterness, Harry.  Be a hero, not a righter of wrongs."

The boy looked at him with his big green eyes, so expressive, looking so much like Lily's…but Lily had never had this suffering and fatalism in her eyes.  Harry shouldn't have had them either.

"Is that what you want me to be?  A hero?" the boy breathed out.

"I want you to be proud of yourself. I want you to be able to look yourself in the mirror when all of this is over and tell yourself that you did your best, whatever the outcome. I want you to stay true to yourself," Severus replied firmly.  "But know that whatever happens, I'll be with you."

"Even if…" Harry choked out. "Even if I would become like him, like Voldemort?"

"You wouldn't become like him," Snape answered.  "You have nothing in common."

"But if that happened?" Harry insisted.  "There are times when I feel so angry that I'd do anything to make it stop, for him to not be able to do anything to people that I know anymore, to no one.  I think I could easily kill in those moments.  And you're right, that'd make me a murderer."

"I'm here to keep that from happening," Severus said gently. "And I'm convinced that you'll know how to make the right choices when the moment comes.  But even if that had to happen, Harry, even if you had to become the new Dark Lord.  Yes, I'd still be there for you.  Because I know that's not what you want, and because I promised you to never leave you.  Is that agreeable?"

It seemed as if the boy's eyes got even bigger, if that were possible.  And they were perhaps a bit damper than they'd been the moment before.  Well, the message had been received, at least in part.

"I…yes.  Thanks.  Really, I mean.  I'm sorry about what I said earlier, about Sirius. I know you had nothing to do with that.  If I'd not been so stupid to begin with…"

"Harry, that's enough. You had nothing to do with his death, no more than you do with the attacks on me. Yes, I certainly was wrong to go after Black the way I did.  It was revenge, pure and simple, and it was completely inappropriate.  It certainly didn't make me feel any better, and I didn't gain anything from it either.  But no, I don't think that played an actual part in his death.  He wanted to save you, and nothing could've convinced him otherwise.  He was deeply fond of you, and for that reason in particular…."  He took a deep breath.  "For that reason, I must say Sirius Black's become a likable person to me.  I regret that it took his death for that to happen."

The boy's dumbfounded expression made that confession wholly worthwhile.

"You mean you forgave him?" Harry asked.

"As he told you himself, he was young and very stupid.  He remained rather impulsive, and I don't think we'd have ever got along if he'd lived, but yes, I forgave him.  Just as I did James, for the same reasons.  I couldn't hold a grudge against them when they were so fond of you, I suppose.  And I have reason to believe that in their own way, they no longer held things against me either."

Harry was quiet for an instant, thoughtful.  "You mean the cemetery?  They helped you…"

Snape nodded.  "They helped me save you, and that wasn't the first time Black had come to my rescue in that form.  A few days before that, I was saved from Voldemort's wrath by the specter of a dog, and your mother.  I wasn't entirely sure I hadn't dreamt it at the time, but I think it's clear now.  And if there's one thing of which I'm sure, it's that the blasted mutt wouldn't want you to feel guilty about his death, or for you to become bitter because of him.  Black cared for you, Harry.  Really."

"I know," Harry said, a lump in his throat.  "He wanted me to come and live with him, you know.  He'd given me…"  But he realized he couldn't go on.  Not if he wanted to hold on to a shred of dignity.  Snape seemed to understand him, though, for he got up without a word to come and sit on the arm of Harry's chair, then pulled him against him.  Before he realized it, the boy had buried his face in the familiar-smelling black cloth, and closed his eyes, hardly aware of the hand gently stroking his hair and his neck with a soothing motion.

It wasn't until a few minutes had passed that Harry noticed the slender fingers were wiping something wet from his cheeks.  But he didn't have the heart to feel ashamed. If Snape had nothing to say, if he could accept that he was sad about Sirius, then…  He felt a heavy weight leave his chest.  Snape wasn't upset with him, or Sirius either.  His godfather had helped Severus; he'd been with them that night in the cemetery.

Was it possible that for once in his life, something wasn't going to turn out all wrong?  His parents and Sirius approved of his relationship with Severus, and Severus didn't hate the Marauders anymore.  He smiled in spite of himself.  Yes, things could turn out less complicated than they seemed sometimes.  Little miracles did happen.

He allowed himself an instant of solace in being comforted this way, before straightening and wiping his face with a sleeve.  "Sorry," he said automatically.

"You have no reason to be," Severus replied calmly.  "Go out and get some air.  Come in when you're feeling better; we'll need to talk."

"About what?" Harry asked, disconcerted.  Even more to discuss?  He wasn't sure he wanted to go on spilling out his emotions onto the laboratory floor; this little session had drained him.

"Formalities to sort out.  Go out and clear your mind, take you broom if you like.  I have some potions to finish.  Go and have some fun, Harry.  You've really not had the chance up until now.  But remember not to go too far, and keep to a reasonable height.  No stupid stunts either; this isn't the time for you to go and break your neck."

Still a bit stunned, the boy nodded.  As he went up to his room, he wondered which formalities the professor wanted to discuss.  His return to Hogwarts?  His guardianship?  Or maybe it was about what'd happened at Malfoy Manor?

Shaking his head, Harry grabbed his broom and opened the window, then went out to fly as high as Severus allowed him.  He'd have his answer soon enough, and Snape was right: he needed to clear his mind.  Flying easily, he cast a curious look at the Manor.  From this side, all the shutters were closed.   The only ones that were open were the ones to the room with green curtains.

Seized by a sudden impulse, he accelerated to fly around the house, and ended up level with the room in question.  One look at the ground told him that Severus was nowhere in sight.  Not very likely that the professor would appreciate seeing him meddle this way, but hadn't he said to make himself at home?  Or something like that..?

The windows were as dusty as they'd appeared from far away.  Harry rubbed the pane with his sleeve, and bent over a bit more to better see what was hidden behind the green curtains.  What he saw made him pull back abruptly, almost losing his equilibrium.

A room, a simple room…of a woman.  There wasn't much doubt about that; the furnishings were tastefully decorated, the sheets a pastel shade, and the dressing table in the corner clearly suggested a feminine influence.

He leant over again to inspect the interior more closely.  Pictures on the walls, the little items that were set about everywhere, the flowerless vase.  Someone had lived here, had used this furniture and these things—a woman, it would seem.  But who?  Not his mother, that was certain.  Had Snape had another companion about whom he'd didn't wish to speak?  He'd claimed to have never loved anyone but Lily, but the especial care that had been put into this room told a different story.  Who could've lived there?

Another question he didn't dare ask Severus.  Yet, if a woman had lived there with him, that would explain certain things, starting with the size of the Manor.  Had Snape perhaps wanted a large family after all?  Had he perhaps even had children who'd died afterward?  Or left with their mother?  If she'd been a Death Eater, things would make even more sense, but Severus certainly wouldn't want to talk to him about it.

Reluctantly pulling away from the green room, Harry undertook testing a few Quidditch moves.  Best that he forget what he'd seen for now.  When he finally decided to land, a half-hour later, Harry had for the most part forgotten his emotions of breakfast time and the woman of the green room.  He'd just made a much more interesting discovery.

Jumping from his broom, he raced down the laboratory steps.

"Severus!  There's something new with my powers!" he exclaimed, before bursting out in laughter at the professor's curious expression. "My broom!  I'm handling it much better, it's incredible!  I can do much more complicated moves than before; it responds ten times better to my commands!"

Snape allowed himself a slight smile.  The boy'd had a good time, after all.  His happy expression was a delight to see.  Good thing Harry wasn't ready to return to Hogwarts, though; nothing good would come of these powers so far as the Slytherin team was concerned.

"Better than with cooking, I assume?" he asked sarcastically.  Once again, the boy burst out in happy laughter.

"I didn't burn anything, anyway!  Do you really think it'd be a problem if I flew higher?   I'd liked to be able to practice my nosedives, and the distance is a bit too short."

"Out of the question," Snape said dryly. "You'll go no higher than the roof, and your descents will be done gently or not at all!  Don't give me reason to confiscate that broom."

"So, there you have it," Harry said as he rolled his eyes.  "I knew I should've kept quiet."

"Quite an interesting concept, Mister Potter," Snape replied. "But totally unrealistic."

Harry made a face, admitting his defeat.  "Still, you should've seen it!"

"I'll come," Severus said more gently. "The next time you go out to practice."

"Really?" the boy asked enthusiastically.

"Certainly.  After what you've just told me, you don't imagine I'd still let you fly on your own?"

Harry groaned, but Snape wasn't fooled. 

"I knew I shouldn't have said anything."

"Put that contraption away, and sit down," Snape finally said, pointing him to an armchair.  It was time to move on to serious matters.  He went to retrieve a bundle of papers from the table, then returned to join the boy, whose face had suddenly clouded over.

"It's nothing dramatic," he assured him. "Formalities…but nothing very pleasant either."

Harry sank a bit deeper into his chair, his arms crossed.

"It's about the Dursleys," Snape continued.  "The Muggle notary has looked over the various papers, and we've also done research of our own.  It turns out that you are their only living relative, Harry.  And by extension, their only heir."

The boy stiffened, his hands clenched in his tee shirt.  He'd thought of everything except for that.  The Dursleys?  Him, inheriting their belongings?  It was true—Marge was dead, and he'd never heard talk of any other family.  Merlin, if they'd had any, they'd have certainly lost no time in sending him to them.  But to inherit?  From them?  The world had gone amuck; if they hadn't died, Vernon and Petunia would've had a heart attack.

"This is a joke."

"No.  It's more involved than in the magical world, even more so since you are a minor, but the rules of succession are very clear; everything goes to you."

"They would've hated that," Harry murmured.  "They'd have preferred for everything to burn, before seeing me own their property."

Not only were they dead because of him, but on top of that he was going to become the legal owner of…what?  Of everything they'd always denied him, in short.  In a terribly twisted sense, there was a certain justice to it.

Snape seemed to be of the same mind.

"In this instance, Harry, they won't be seeing anything.  They're dead, and this can mean nothing to them any longer.  If you ask my opinion, it's a just recompense, after what they put you through.  They would've had to make compensation to you anyway, if the trial had taken place."

The trial.  Harry had almost forgotten it.  What compensation could he have received for a few slaps and punches of a fist, for the discipline Vernon had inflicted on him, for having denied him sufficient food, for those years spent in a cupboard…for never having loved him?

Harry jumped to his feet, incapable of sitting any longer.  Air, he needed air, he had to get out of here and quickly.  In a flash, he dashed up the steps, directly into the park he'd just left.  He'd barely slammed the door behind him, when he collapsed into the grass, out of breath.  Breathe…breathe…

A few seconds later, he heard the door open behind him, and a murmured spell relieved him of the oppressive feeling pushing down on his chest.

"I suppose I should've suggested this before," Snape sighed as he handed him a potion.

"What?" Harry croaked.

"A calming potion.  It will do you the most good."

Harry could only agree, and emptied the phial in a gulp.  Severus was certainly going to think he was much too sensitive, but that was just too bad.  For now, he really, really needed something to get rid of this dizziness, if he wanted to think about getting up again someday soon.

But an instant later, it was Severus who sat beside him in the grass, seeming contrite.  "I regret I had to bring that up so soon, but Dumbledore contacted me last night, and time's an issue.  Best to take care of it before you return to Hogwarts, for various reasons.  We'll have to go sort out the details in London today."

"London?" Harry asked. "To the Ministry?"

"No, to Diagon Alley.  Dumbledore refused to allow you to return to the Ministry, and Scrimgeour couldn't really disagree, after what happened when you were last there.  The formalities will be addressed in the back of Ollivander's shop."

The boy nodded.  "Someone reliable."

"Indeed," Snape agreed.  "And it's more difficult to envision an attack in a room filled with wands."

"Oh.  I suppose an Expelliarmus wouldn't be of much use there."

"You signature spell, isn't it?" Severus asked.  "You should think of choosing a more offensive spell.  Disarming your adversary will not suffice if more than attacks you at once."

"Are there spells that work on several people at the same time?"

Snape contemplated his answer for a moment.  "Perhaps.  We'll think about that later."

With a wave of his wand, he made a glass of pumpkin juice appear, and held it out to the boy.  "Harry, I'm sorry about having to push you, but do you feel able to sort out these matters this morning?"

The teenager tensed visibly in spite of the potion.  "What am I going to have to do?  Sign papers?"

"That's about it.  A matter of a Muggle procedure, contrary to Black's estate, which happened automatically.  Do you already have an account at a Muggle bank?"

Harry shook his head. "No, of course I don't.  I'm a minor anyway."

"Well, Dumbledore authorized me to sort out this problem. You'll have one from here on out."

"I don't want it," Harry replied.  "It's their money anyway.  I'd do just as well to give it to a charity or something."

"Never limit your options," Snape said seriously. "You might one day have need of Muggle money, and why not a house in a peaceful suburb?"

"Are you joking?  I don't ever want to set foot in there again.  I'd rather live at Grimmauld Place." He shuddered.  "I don't care whether the house is sold or torn down, but I'm not going back to Privet Drive."

"Nevertheless, you have to," the professor answered.  "At least once, to get your things and check how the house reacts to your presence."

"I've nothing there anymore, and the wards no longer exist.  I've no reason to go there," the boy retorted.

"It's not that simple," Snape explained.  "The magic instilled in that place for the past fifteen years was very powerful, and might've reacted to your aunt's passing.  We must be certain before making a decision.  And there will perhaps be things that you'll want to keep—photos and keepsakes of your grandparents."

But Harry shook his head.

"We'll see to that later," Snape said in a conciliatory tone.  "For now, the important thing is to sign these papers.  We'll make use of the trip to go buy what you need as well."

"I didn't get my list for this year…but you must have it," Harry realized aloud. "Oh, and my OWL results!"

Snape smiled.  "I wondered when you were going to ask for them."

"I thought about them, but never at the right moment.  Is it bad?"

"See for yourself," Severus replied, as he made an envelope appear.

Harry nervously took out the papers. "Let's see…Astronomy: A.  I couldn't expect any better, I suppose, seeing what happened during the exam.  Care of Magical Creatures: E.  Hagrid will be happy!  Oh, Merlin…there's not been any news about Hagrid, has there?"

Snape shook his head.  He'd hoped to postpone the subject for as long as possible. 

"You don't think…" Harry began, hesitating to form the question.  "You don't think they might've already let him go?  Alive, I mean…I don’t' see what use they'd have to keep a half-giant."

Severus had half-thought that the gamekeeper had indeed been dead for a while, but he kept himself from saying it.  "The Death Eaters never let anyone go free.  They're perhaps trying to get information from him, or will use him in an exchange for money.  But given his size, I think it won't be long before we have news of him."

Dead or alive, he thought.

Harry continued soberly, "Charms: E.  That's about what I'd expected.  Defense: O!"  He smiled genuinely this time.  "O!  I got an O in Defense Against the Dark Arts!" he told the professor, who was watching him with a slight smile.

"Nothing very surprising about that, after your exploits of last year with Dumbledore's Army."

"Yes, that was good practice, since we had to count on Umbridge.  Apart from Remus, we haven't really had a decent Defense professor, seeing how they change every year." Once again, Harry's face clouded over as he remembered the professor they should've had this year.  "I'm sorry," he said.  "I'm sure you'd be excellent in that position."

"No doubt about it," Snape sneered.  "Continue."

Harry nodded in relief.  "Divination: P.  Wonderful.  Like I had any intention of continuing…it's by far the most useless subject I've ever had.  Herbology: E.  Huh, that's a bit better than I thought.  History of Magic: D.  Oh. Not really a surprise.  Potions: E."

He looked up to smile at Snape. "Thanks."

"It was deserved," the professor replied.

"I'm not sure about that, but…I'll try to prove it."

"And I'll make an effort not to push you to fail," Snape said calmly.

Harry was speechless for a moment, then nodded. If Severus himself was admitting it, he wasn't going to drag the matter out.

"Transfiguration: E.  McGonagall didn't want to tell me!  I can hardly believe this…that gives me seven out of nine OWLs!"

"Congratulations, Mister Potter," Snape said calmly. "I'm not really surprised, but it's a beautiful performance.  I’m almost of the same opinion as yourself, concerning Divination; on the other hand, more of an effort in History of Magic seems to be in order.  We'll work on that."

"I'll try, but I'd really prefer to concentrate on Defense. I don’t' want to go on with Divination or Astronomy, nor Care of Magical Creatures, even if that hurts Hagrid's feelings.  Has he already been replaced?"

"Professor Grubbly-Plank has taken his classes in his absence, but it's not been decided."

"It's really not fair.  Hagrid would never hurt anyone, and everyone always seems to be against him.  I wonder if the centaurs would know something?  Or maybe the snakes?  I could try and find some near his hut, and ask them some questions."

"They'd know nothing more than Lupin," Snape answered.  "The only thing we can do right now is wait.  Loki must've had his own reasons for acting that way.  But knowing Hagrid's ability to get along with the worst beasts in creation…I'd say chances are on his side."

Harry nodded soberly.  Distracted by his thoughts, he pulled another sheet of paper from the envelope, almost without seeing it, then read mechanically.  He let out a gasp of surprise. "Quidditch Captain!  I'm Captain of the Quidditch team this year!  Oh, Merlin, Ron's going to be wild!  When he sees my new powers…"

But he scowled immediately.  "Oh, I suppose I couldn't participate in the first matches anyway.  I'd best tell them to find someone else."

"On the contrary," Snape replied. "You'll be participating in all the practice sessions and matches.  You must start somewhere, and you have responsibilities now.  You should exercise in the park to make certain of mastering your broom, but you're going to these bloody matches."

"Are you serious?" Harry asked, disconcerted.  "Don't you think it's too dangerous?"

"I'm starting to get used to watching over Quidditch matches," Severus grumbled. "And there will be a discreet Auror presence.  In a sense, it's easier to keep watch outside the walls, than on the inside."

"Wow, this is really the best way to start the year—no classes, but Quidditch!"

"Don't be so enthusiastic, Mister Potter, you're going to choose your subjects today, and you'll be taking classes, one way or another."

"I should've suspected," the boy grimaced. "I'll take the subjects required to become an Auror. I think Ron picked the same ones.  He could lend me his notes."

"Merlin save us," Snape murmured. "Our only hope is that Miss Granger will have enough classes in common with you."

"In my opinion, she'll be taking all of them," Harry said, disenchanted.  "And definitely the ones Ron's taking anyway.  When do you think I should be going back to classes?"

"We'll work on your powers so that it'll be as quickly as possible.  You'll add in your classes gradually, according to you abilities.  Do you have your list of supplies?"

Harry pulled a third sheet from the envelope.  "Hmm, lots of books, Potions ingredients…"

"I'll be supplying those."

"…and parchment, ink and quills, as usual.  I'll have to take some treats for Hedwig as well; she's going to be cross with me for abandoning her for so long."

"Have her come here if you like, but I think she'll understand.  She's an intelligent owl."

"Hagrid's the one who gave her to me," Harry said thoughtfully.  "He really has to come back; he'd be so happy to know that I can transform into a cat.  He's the first person I met from the wizarding world.  He was the one who took me to Diagon Alley for the first time."

Harry felt a lump form in his throat.  Recently, he was having the hardest time keeping his emotions in check.  He constantly had the impression of swinging from one extreme to the other.  Rather strange, with Snape as his only companion.

"Dumbledore is doing his best to find him," Severus reassured him. "It's a bit more complicated, now that we no only have a spy in place, but things might quickly change."

"What do you mean?  Another spy against Voldemort?" Harry asked curiously.

Snape nodded.  "It's possible.  Nothing's been done yet, and it certainly won't be easy after my betrayal.  I suppose the Dark Lord's paranoia has increased."

Harry shuddered. "I'm happy you're not there anymore.  How's your Mark?"

"Calm for the moment," the professor said as he rubbed his arm. "Go finish your breakfast, Harry, then get ready to leave.  I'll tell Albus to arrange the meeting for this morning at eight."

Harry almost protested, but then changed his mind.  He wasn't going to let Snape think he didn't have the courage.  Certainly not.  On the other hand, though….

"So soon?"

"The shorter the delay, the less time for the information to spread through the Ministry.  I prefer not to take the risk.  Voldemort has more than one person in that place."

Harry nodded.  That made sense.  But this reminded him a bit too much of the last gathering.

"You'll be with me, this time?" he asked in a voice where the reproach could be heard.

"Obviously, idiot child. I wouldn't make the same mistake twice.  But if you prefer for someone else to go with you…"

"No, but don't leave me, all right? I don't want to go back to Malfoy Manor…I really don't."

Snape sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I've already apologized, Harry, but I hope you believe me when I tell you I regret my decision of that day. On more than one account."

"You'd promised me you'd come," Harry insisted.

"And I didn't keep my word.  I thought my presence would only complicate matters."

"I wouldn't have listened to what Voldemort was telling me if you'd been there."

"No, you'd have had no need to, because I am the one who would've been tasked with kidnapping you," Severus confessed. "You have reason to be angry with me, Harry.  I'll certainly make other mistakes with you, but I can swear that I'll not begin with that one."

Harry nodded, vaguely frustrated.  Or reassured?  He couldn't decide.  Still a bit surprised to see the professor sitting in the grass, Harry stood up.  "I'm going to get ready. I don't think I'll be able to eat, though.  Best to get this over with quickly."

Severus got up then too, brushing off his robes.  "I'll alert Albus.  Come downstairs to get me when you're finished."

A half-hour later, the boy took the stairs to the dungeon, his bag on his shoulder and wearing his traveling cloak.

"We're going directly to Ollivander's," Snape announced.  "Afterward, we'll go for your supplies.  You'll probably need new robes; those are too small for you."

"I didn't feel like I'd grown all that much, though," Harry said as he inspected his robes.  "I'll need a new Quidditch outfit as well, so we'll have to go to Gringotts anyway."

"Don't concern yourself with that," Severus replied. "But think about adding protective warding."

Harry made a face. "With the broom-cursing, and the rogue Bludger…  Yeah, that's probably not a bad idea."

"Good.  Before leaving, here are the orders: you must stay by my side at all times, especially in the street, never out of my sight.  If there's the slightest problem, transform and jump to my shoulder.  If we are separated…"  He held out a Muggle cigarette lighter to Harry.  "You just have to activate it to get quickly back to the Manor. It's a Portkey that Dumbledore's put in place especially for you.  It's a single use one, so don't activate it unless you're truly in danger, understood?"

The boy nodded.

"Keep your wand in your hand, but avoid using it.  Aurors will be patrolling the Alley; there shouldn't be a problem.  Any questions?"

"I don't think so. Couldn't I stay in my cat form the entire time?  I mean, in the street?"

"That's unnecessary, and I don't care much for you spending your life hiding.  Ready?"

"I suppose," Harry said.  He couldn't help but have a bad premonition about this outing.  But it was probably just apprehension.  Pushing these thoughts aside, he followed Snape into the fireplace.

Ollivander's shop had definitely not changed over the years, and its proprietor neither.

"Mr. Potter, it's a pleasure to see you again.  I've heard talk that your wand performed brilliantly during the Triwizard Tournament!" the man exclaimed.

Harry wasn't really sure he could call it a performance, but he nodded.  "Thanks for having us, Mr. Ollivander.  It's really a relief not to have to go to the Ministry again."

The shopkeeper laughed softly. "Without a doubt.  Secretary Fudge is waiting for you in the back of the shop," he said with a pointed look for Snape.

Severus thanked him with an incline of his head, and preceded Harry into the darkened room.  The boy soon understood the attraction of the room: the Anti-Magic spells literally radiated from the walls, protecting the hundreds of wands from outside influences.

"Ah. Professor Snape, Mr. Potter, right on the hour, of course!" the former Minister said, heartily shaking the two wizards' hands.  "I regret that it's once again due to bad news, and I can only repeat my wholehearted apology for the incident last time."

Incident?  Harry was ready to make a retort, but Severus beat him to it, letting out a long hiss, rather like that of a snake.  "Best for you if there's no incident today, Mr. Fudge, or you'll very well risk being the first victim this time."

"Come, come, threats are completely unnecessary; we're all on the same side here, are we not?"

"That remains to be seen," Harry said distrustfully.

The tension in the room was palpable, but Fudge contented himself with sighing and pulling a bundle of papers from his robes.  "Really, Mr. Potter, after all the Ministry's done for you."

"Another word on this subject, Fudge, and I'll suggest Harry Potter take himself from here to the offices of the Prophet for a little interview about his views on the Ministry and the way they're running the war.  I'm sure they'd be very interested on that account," he hissed, in a tone that suddenly reminded Harry how intimidating Snape could be.

The little man nervously laid out the papers on the table, and pushed them right beneath Harry's nose.  "Here's the list of things you're to inherit.  It's a matter of Muggle money, a house, sundry furniture, as you can see.  All of that will remain, of course, under the trusteeship of your legal guardian, Albus Dumbledore, until you're of age."

Harry glanced quickly over the inventory.  The house, the car, the money.  Oh. The sum was rather large.  He knew the Dursleys were comfortable, but to this point?  They'd inherited from Marge, of course.  He still couldn't help but feel a vague bitterness at taking it.  No, the Dursleys had never been poor…  But that hadn't kept them from treating their nephew like the lowliest of beggars, had it?

"What do I have to do?" he asked.

"Sign here and there.  And you as well, Professor Snape," Fudge replied. "It's not entirely the standard way, but I suppose it will have to suffice."

"Indeed," Snape said dryly.

"That's all?" Harry asked, setting down the quill with ill-disguised disgust.

"Yes, for now.  The deeds of ownership will be sent via Floo when everything's been sorted out.  You've certainly increased your personal assets this summer, Mr. Potter," Fudge said in a tone meant to be courteous.  "Off to a good start this year!"

Harry felt the dull anger that'd been simmering within him erupt like a fountain; how dare he talk of a good start, when Sirius and what had been left of his family were dead?  His vision abruptly clouded over with red, and he felt the air around him begin to vibrate.

"Harry." A soft but firm voice made him jump, and he realized that Severus had put his hand on his shoulder.  In front of him, his eyes bulging, Fudge seemed to be struggling to get his breath, his face deathly pale and mottled with red patches.

"Get ahold of yourself," Snape continued, his hand gripping Harry's shoulder more tightly.

The boy closed his eyes, trying deliberately to defuse the tension that didn't seem to want to abate.  He had to calm down.  He had to stop thinking about Fudge.  About the Ministry.  About Sirius.  About the Dursleys.

An instant afterward, it was only natural that a black cat, its fur standing on end, jumped to the Potions master's shoulder; Snape's black eyes were still glaring at the former Minister.

"I…I…I…" Fudge began, his hands at his throat.

"You're sorry?" Snape suggested.  "Perhaps you'll think twice before spewing out such inanities the next time.  I think this meeting is over."

Nodding frantically, Fudge rushed from the room without a backward glance.

Severus waited a moment to let Shadow gather his wits, before placing him on the floor.

"Transform back, Harry."

The boy obeyed reluctantly.  "What happened?" he asked.

"That would rather be my question to you," Snape replied. "Did you feel your powers begin to work?"

"Not really.  I was just angry, and I wanted him to shut it."

"The least that can be said is that it was successful."

"Was it me who…" Harry took a breath.  "…choked him?"

"Your magic, actually," Snape answered.

"But I thought there were spells in this room to hold it back?"

"Not sufficient for your new powers, apparently," the professor said simply.

"I…" But he didn't know what to say.  "Will he be all right?"

"Certainly." But Snape's eyes didn't bode well.

"I didn't do it on purpose," Harry justified himself.  "I didn't even know I'd done anything.  I didn't touch my wand."

"Harry, you realize that your actual powers are much more dangerous and difficult to handle than before, don't you?  Can you make up your mind now to understand what I mean by controlling your powers?"  Then, with an annoyed cluck of his tongue, he added, "We'll talk of this later.  Best to hurry and finish this, before the Aurors decide to take you into custody."

Harry paled. "I attacked the former Minister."

"Precisely," Severus replied.  "And you're under Dumbledore's guardianship, who assured Scrimgeour that you didn't need the trusteeship of the Ministry.  This little spectacle will certainly not help matters."

Pushing Harry from the room, he turned to Ollivander.  "Has Fudge already left?"

"Yes, directly to the Ministry, and he seemed rather…rushed," the wandmaker confirmed.

Severus groaned.  "We'd best hurry.  Nothing out of the ordinary outside?"

"According to the Aurors, everything is quiet."

"Perfect.  Thank you for having us.  Onward, Harry," Severus said.

"At your service," Ollivander finished with a slight smile.  "A pleasure to see you again, Mr. Potter."

With a smile for the old man, Harry left the shop, followed by a visibly tense Snape.

"Let's start with your clothing.  Madam Malkin will be open at this hour."

"The Owl Emporium is on the way; I'll only be a minute."

"Hurry up," Snape said as he followed.

Rummaging in his pocket, Harry pulled out the last galleons remaining in his pouch.  Just enough to pay for what he needed for Hedwig.

"I have to stop at Gringotts," he announced as the shop door.  "I have my key with me."

"Don't bother with that," Snape answered. "I have what's needed."

Harry hesitated for an instant.  It seemed that Snape wanted to finish up as quickly as possible.

"I'll pay you back at home," Harry offered.  "I suppose Gringotts can send me some money by owl."

"It's not necessary," the professor said curtly.  Then softening his tone, he added, "I'm not very good at this, it would appear, but let me take care of it, Harry.  Let me take care of you.  You don't have to pay for your supplies or things as simple as clothing.  I know you've always done so, and that your parents left you enough to provide for your needs, but that's not normal for someone your age.  Allow me to take their place in this, would you?"

Harry was struck speechless.  Snape paying for him?  He didn't know why this gesture seemed more personal than having saved his life, but in a way, it was.  Oh, the professor certainly wasn't poor—that wasn't the question, but…Harry wasn't sure he liked this.  The Dursleys had definitely never laid out a penny for him, and as soon as he'd had access to his vault, he'd taken care of his own finances and it'd worked out fine that way.

Was his independence worth the price of having someone take care of him? It really wasn't that…  Rather, it was like agreeing to make things more official between them than they actually were.  Was that a problem?  Allowing Snape to also take charge of that?  Maybe yes.  But from another viewpoint, it was certainly very comforting as well.

Rejecting his offer would be to reject Snape, Harry sensed this very well.  The Potions master was perhaps good at hiding his emotions, but Harry knew him well enough now to see a little glimmer of uncertainty behind those black eyes waiting for an answer.

And that wasn't what he wanted.  He wanted what Severus had offered him, and if that entailed letting him pay for his supplies, well then….

"All right."

He could sense the release in the tenseness of the professor's shoulders, and knew he'd made the best choice.  It was even sort of satisfying, actually.  Annoying, perhaps, but comforting somewhere, there, in his chest….

And Snape, apparently, had very firm ideas about what he needed.

"You can't spend another school year with two uniforms, all told," he growled after Harry'd placed his order.

"It's what I've done up until now, and it wasn't a problem," the boy retorted.

"Which explains a great deal…you will give us five," he ordered Madam Malkin, who was watching the debate with interest.

"Five Gryffindor, then?" she asked.

"No, Slytherin!" Snape hissed. "Clearly, Gryffindor.  Mister Potter didn't change Houses during the summer."

The witch glanced at him, half-incredulous, half-amused. 

"And all the correct clothing to go along with them.  Five red shirts, the same in white…and a green one, just for good measure," Snape added with a small smile.

"Hey, don't get carried away; I'm definitely not wearing green at Hogwarts!"  Harry exclaimed in panic.

"You never know, a pledge is so quickly tested.   You'll put in the same number of tee shirts, trousers…and some jeans, I assume?" he said, lifting an eyebrow at Harry. "I'll leave you to choose the colors."

"Merlin, thanks.  Are you sure you don't want to take care of my underwear, while you're at it?" the teenager exclaimed.

"Cotton or silk?" Snape asked, unruffled.

Harry felt himself blush to his roots under the amused eyes of the shopkeeper…who was clearly awaiting a response.  His eyes riveted to the floor, he turned toward her to mumble a few words.

"Cotton, then," the witch noted, while Harry was looking for the best way to drop through the floor.  Snape, for his part, contented himself with examining the street, that insufferable little smile plastered on his face.

"And some shoes," Madam Malkin asked, "two pair for school, one for going out, and a pair of trainers?"

"Add boots and hiking shoes," Snape said.  "I've no illusions about the course of this year.  And two traveling cloaks, two winter ones, and two basic."

"I'm never going to use all that!" Harry protested. "Honestly, Professor, I've never needed so many things before."

Snape eyed him critically from head to foot.  "There's a first time for everything.  And you're still well off the mark if you want to compete with the wardrobe of a Slytherin student; Draco Malfoy, himself alone, uses a walk-in closet meant for a dormitory."

"I don't have the slightest desire to look like Draco."

"I don't doubt it," Severus replied.  "But you're still going to do me the pleasure of learning how to dress correctly."

"I don't see what's wrong with the way I dress.  I wear a uniform, like everyone else," the boy defended himself.

"Yes, with your shirt hanging out, a tie that's poorly knotted, and trousers that are two sizes too large.  There's a huge difference between wearing a uniform and being clothed appropriately, Mister Potter."

"On that subject, Professor," Madam Malkin intervened.  "Your new robes have arrived, as well as your socks.  I hope the color will be to your liking this time."

"The color?" Harry asked, interested. "Which?"

"One more word," Snape growled, "and I'll make it my mission to find a cat collar with assorted muzzles!"

"Of course," the witch went on, completely ignoring the professor's threatening looks," if you have the same problems as the last time, don't hesitate to contact us. It's entirely possible that—"

"Very well," Snape interrupted her, "you'll put some in for the boy as well.  Red, green and black."

"Green again," Harry said.  "It's an obsession."

"Absolutely not, it's a practical matter.  Wool used for green socks is much warmer than the others." With these words, Snape placed a pile of galleons on the counter and headed for the door.  "Finish choosing what you need, and meet me outside."

Bemused, Harry turned to Madam Malkin. "He…he was joking, wasn't he?"

The witch burst into laughter.  "I'm afraid so, as surprising as that might seem."

Harry ran a hand through his hair, confused. "Bloody hell, that was the most embarrassing shopping trip of my life."

"Oh, believe me, certain of your classmates have lived through worse; you should see the look on Mr. Longbottom when his grandmother drags him into my shop twice a year.  Like the boy's being led to the slaughter… Note that what he endures isn't far from it.  Professor Snape spared you his comments on your pyjamas, count yourself lucky!"

Harry let out a little restrained laugh. He doubted Snape wore pyjamas, to start with.

Whether he liked it or not, Harry left Madam Malkin's shop with more new clothes than he'd ever had in his life.  Cumulatively.  Another novelty he was going to have to get used to.  No one had bothered themselves about his appearance up until now, even less the Dursleys, but evidently Snape took the matter seriously.

"Thanks," he said as he joined the professor. "Really.  And I wear green, you know, I've done so, even at Hogwarts."

"I know," Snape replied. "I'd already noticed."

"And those socks, then?  What color?" the boy asked innocently."

"It's not too late to stop by the Owl Emporium again," Snape growled. "Cat flea-collar, and I'm sure they make splendid muzzles.  I've also heard that Muggles tattoo their animals, on the ear, I believe?"

"All right, all right, I give up," Harry said as he laughed. "I already have a collar anyway, and it's brought me a quite a bit of luck up until now."

The professor turned to give him one of those sincere smiles that made him seem ten years younger, and Harry couldn't help but smile back. Yes, really quite a bit of luck…

As usual, the book store had packaged the class books and stationery ahead of time, and they were quickly sorted out.  When they went out into the street again, their purchases sent on to the Manor by Floo, Harry thought he saw a familiar figure in the distance…Tonks!  The young woman, less relaxed than usual, seemed to be scrutinizing the street carefully, wand in hand, as she discreetly hid in the shadows.  He was tempted to call out to her, but that latter detail dissuaded him.  When she finally turned her attention to him and caught his eye, Harry couldn't help but shoot her a friendly gesture, by way of a question.  The Auror answered him with a quick wave of her hand, signing the words:

Harry nodded.  Snape had alerted him that the Aurors would be about.  As they headed for the Quidditch shop, he noticed another massive figure that wasn't unknown to him: Mad-Eye was also on patrol, apparently.  Snape saw him as well, and the two men exchanged a quick glance that made Harry decidedly nervous.

"Everything all right?" he asked.

"Yes," Severus answered, pushing Harry into the shop.  "But we shouldn't linger.  I'm sorry; I was hoping to take you to lunch at the Leaky Cauldron, but that will be for another time.  Do you have all you need, outside of your Quidditch things?"

"Yeah, I think so.  I won't need anything for a long time."  Even though he'd gladly have spent a little longer looking at that new broom in the window, if it'd just been up to him…

The shop was packed with merchandise, as terribly tempting as always, and it was really hard not to linger.

"Ah, Mr. Potter, new Quidditch robes, I assume?  Your broom is rather new, it seems to me…"

Harry nodded.  "I'll need practice and match robes.  Mine have finally got too small."

"In Gryffindor colors, of course."

The boy made a face, but Snape didn't seem to notice, his attention turned toward the street.  Which didn't stop him from adding, "And protective warding, the best that you have.  For the broom, as well as for himself."

"Ah, certainly," the shopkeeper began. "We have certain charms in particular that—"

"Perfect, perfect, put it all in," Snape said impatiently, throwing a pile of galleons onto the counter.

The shopkeeper hurried as he took Harry's measurements, sensing his customer's impatience.

"Everything will be ready this evening," he finally said.  "Where should I have them sent?"

"Snape Manor.  You have everything you need?" Severus added as he turned to the boy.  Then, when Harry nodded, he said, "Perfect, let's be on our way."

Snape was almost relieved.  The round of shopping had passed without incident, the only living souls they'd encountered being the shopkeepers and the Aurors patrolling the Alley.  But he couldn't help but be nervous….   The meeting with Fudge had turned out too badly; the Ministry wouldn't delay action, and it would be best for them to be at the Manor when that occurred.

All they had to do now was return to the Leaky Cauldron for their Floo connection, and they'd be safe at last.  According to Mad-Eye, the way was clear and nothing suspicious had marred their visit.  But he sensed the old Auror didn't believe this any more than he did.  So much for the potions ingredients he lacked; he'd order them by owl.  Going out into the street ahead of the boy, he glanced quickly around them.

"It's really empty at this hour, I've never seen Diagon Alley so quiet," Harry commented.

"Probably because you always come at the start of term.  The Alley is usually busy in the afternoon and evening, when the eateries are open.  Especially in summer when—"

But Snape didn't have time to finish the sentence.  As they turned in the street, a muffled crack rang out, and a large from appeared a few feet from them, before dashing forward in a whirlwind of dust.

Something really wasn't right, Severus had the time to think, before casting a Stupefy toward their attacker.  An instant afterward, he understood what was wrong: it wasn't a wizard who'd just Apparated in front of them, but a supernatural-looking wolf that seemed much too intelligent for its own good…and theirs.

The animal agilely dodged the spell, before darting forward again, throwing itself, teeth bared, toward Harry, who'd not drawn his wand.

Severus swore.  Where were the Aurors when they were needed?  He wasn't going to have enough magic to hold the wolf back for long, not to mention this one that was the size of a small calf.  There was at least one spell that he wouldn't risk missing with.

Once again, a large green shield surrounded Harry, who was paralyzed by the sight of the animal advancing toward him, as it tried to find a flaw in the shield.

A wolf, an enormous white wolf, growling as it bared its teeth into what almost resembled a smile.  A very human and especially malevolent smile.  It was totally surreal, he thought briefly.  They were in the very middle of Diagon Alley, and the animal was much too large, much too white, and moved much too intentionally.   But Harry didn't have time to deliberate any longer.

Changing tactics, the wolf turned toward Snape, an almost amused gleam in its eyes, before leaping toward him, aiming for the hand holding his wand.

Snape didn't waste any time: dodging quickly to the side, he trained his wand on the beast.  He was going to need a few seconds if he wanted to be able to cast the spell he had in mind, but he doubted one of his Stupefys would be enough to stop this wolf.  Harry surely would've been able, but it was out of the question for the boy to use his powers, not now.  Seeing that the animal was about to spring again, he rushed to insert himself between it and the boy, and immediately found the solution to their problem.  The Protego he'd cast was amazingly solid, enough to give him the several seconds' delay his spell required.

Harry saw the professor take a step backward, and understood right away, when the green light of the shield encompassed him too, out of reach of the huge wolf that was bout to spring forward again.  The animal gathered itself and jumped, aiming for Snape, who'd started to hiss, more than speak, a long incantation that gave Harry goose bumps.   Something in the hissing of these words he didn't understand sounded terribly mournful…and dark.

The spell hit its target this time, and the result was instantaneous: the wolf stopped, as if frozen in place, before beginning to twist, growling and screaming under the effect of intense pain.  An instant later, he seemed to be sucked out through the space where he'd frist appeared, and disappeared with a sinister crack, then the street became quiet once again.

The shield ceased to glow before disappearing, and the sound of hurried running replaced the animal's muffled growls.

"Snape!  What was that?" Tonks cried as she joined them with her wand raised, Mad-Eye on her heels.

"Your incompetence in action, obviously," Snape hissed, clearly exhausted by the rapid altercation.  "I must take Harry to Hogwarts, and quickly!"

"More quickly than you think," grumbled Moody. "We've just received the order to take Harry to the Ministry immediately."

Snape glanced distrustfully at the Auror. Then, without shouting out a warning, he took the step that separated him from the boy, and Disapparated with him before the two Order members had time to react.

The Manor laboratory materialized around them, and Severus leant against the nearest armchair with a groan of frustration.

Without wasting any time, Harry rushed to the table where the professor's potions were always kept.  Strength…magic…  When would Snape be able to do without potions, then?  The quick fight and Apparition had been enough to empty his reserves, and Harry hated that at least as much as Snape did.

He held the potions out to the professor, who quickly downed them.  "I'm happy you obeyed me, Harry.  That you didn't try to fight.  That would've only complicated matters."

The boy blushed. "I…I didn't think, I didn't have time to react, or…  I don't know.  I'm sorry."

"On the contrary, it was perfect," the professor said as he distractedly ran a hand through the teenager's hair. He was probably too drained to realize what he was doing, Harry thought, stunned, but he didn't appreciate the gesture any less.

"We must go to Hogwarts.  I must speak to Dumbledore…and to that moron Lupin immediately."

"Severus, what was it?" Harry finally asked, hardly recovered from the event.  An enormous white wolf right in the middle of Diagon Alley, at this hour.  This could hardly be a conincidence.

"That," the professor said as he threw a handful of Floo powder, "that was Loki."