When Harry awakened the next morning, it took him a moment to realize where he was. Not at the Manor, nor the Dursleys', nor in the tower. He rubbed his eyes and glanced around him.

Snape! He was in Snape's rooms. More accurately, in his own room. His bed, his wardrobe, his desk, here at Hogwarts. It almost made him purr. Life sometimes had this way of giving you exactly what you wanted, at the moment when you least expected it.

A big smile on his face, he groped on the bedside table for his glasses. They were there, but they weren't the only thing there. Frowning, he put his glasses on and grabbed the other object. A photo, he noted…a photo of…oh Merlin!

There in the white picture frame, a black cat was sleeping, snoring in a rather undignified manner. A cat that was almost black, to be precise, because its tail was a magnificent Slytherin green, as Slughorn had pointed out.

Harry sighed. Maybe life wasn't so perfect after all.

He quickly got dressed and headed for the dining room, where he found the frowning Potions master leafing through a bundle of parchments. He looked up when he heard the boy's footsteps and his expression softened slightly.

"Did you sleep well?"

"Very well, thanks. It was weird waking up here. Nice," Harry added.

"Good," Snape said with a nod. "Breakfast is being served in the Great Hall, if you'd like to go. I have a few matters to sort out with Albus this morning before we leave for Surrey. Perhaps it'd be good for you to make use of that time to talk with Lupin."

Harry made a face. "I'm not sure I want to talk to him."

"Perhaps," Snape replied, "but I'm tired of this continual whining. He's sent me another note this morning, asking me to urge you to go and talk to him. I understand the idea isn't pleasant, but the sooner you take care of this chore…"

"Don't exaggerate," Harry protested, "it's not to that point yet. It's just that… I don't know. Doesn't matter. I'll go see him this morning and try to be back in time to…what time do we have to go to the Dursleys'?"

It seemed to Harry that Severus stared at him strangely, but an instant later, the wizard replied, "When we have the go-ahead from the Ministry. They've sent a squad of Aurors to check that you won't be at risk there. This time, Scrimgeour seems determined your life won't be put in danger because of him. A grand gesture on the part of our Minister," Snape scoffed.

"Oh. I suppose that's rather justified. Will it be all right if I eat breakfast here? It's no bother to go and talk to Remus afterward, but eating with him staring at me makes me nervous."

The corners of Snape's mouth curled upward. "You need only ask your favorite elf to bring you what you want. Use the Floo to go to Lupin—that'd be wiser. Anything else before I go?"

"No…just…" Harry cleared his throat. "I found the photo. Of, um, Shadow. And it was an accident, all right? During Slughorn's Potions class, I leant in over Ron's potion too far, and I don't know why, but my color went back to normal afterward! So I can't understand how on that particular night…"

"Probably a reaction to the alcohol," Snape said. "Interesting. I'd be tempted to do some experimenting. Anyway, I'm keeping that photo close by in case my Slytherins take me to task for bringing a Gryffindor into the dungeons. An act of good faith, if you will."

"That's completely disloyal!" Harry protested indignantly.

"But isn't loyalty the lions' privilege?" Severus replied smoothly. "I'll come for you at Lupin's when it's time. Be careful, I'm still not convinced that Hogwarts is safe just now…and whatever happens, if you're attacked, defend yourself! I forbid you to allow your throat to be ripped out just because it's Lupin's son or anyone else!"

"I know, I didn't really think," the boy admitted. "But he didn't seem all that dangerous until he jumped on me. And then my powers… I never know if I'm just going to defend myself or destroy the castle. It's really frustrating."

"We'll work on that this evening," Snape reassured him. "But the most important thing is that you don't get hurt, Harry. The castle can be repaired, and Loki doesn't deserve for you to spare him. Defend yourself, without evening thinking about it!"

"I'll try," Harry said, hardly convinced. "Anyway, see you later."

Severus let out a disapproving growl, before finally heading for the door, parchments in hand. He was scarcely through the door when Harry heard him shouting at the Slytherin students who obviously had made the tragic mistake of thinking that their head of house had already gone up to the Great Hall.

Harry smiled. No, they wouldn't change Snape, and that was good.

It was with a full and slightly knotted stomach that the boy threw a fistful of Floo powder, a half an hour later, calling out Lupin's rooms as his destination. Severus was right after all; it was best to take care of this chore… He mentally lectured himself: Remus wasn't a chore! He was a friend, a friend who clearly needed help right now.

Sticking his head into the flames, he tried to see the werewolf, who didn't take long to appear with two cups of coffee in his hands.

"Harry, I'm happy to see you! Please, come in!"

Holding back a sigh, the boy stepped through.

"How are you feeling?" Remus asked right away. "A bit shaken, I imagine, after all the excitement of yesterday."

"I'm all right, don't worry about me," Harry reassured him as he sat in one of the comfortable armchairs. "Severus gave me some potions last night and I slept like a log."

"I see," the professor said with a frown. "You slept in his rooms, then?"

"In my new room, yes," Harry agreed. "It's weird having your own room at Hogwarts, sort of unreal, you know?"

Remus smiled wanly. "Yes, I suppose."

"And Loki?" the boy then asked. "Have you had any news?"

"No," Remus replied, his lips pinched. "Harry, I don't know how to tell you how horrified I am about what happened yesterday. I didn't know all of Loki's plans, even though we're in contact with each other…more or less sporadically. I would've never let him do such a thing! I must…get to know him better, I suppose, before I can have any influence on him."

"How long since you've been talking to him?" Harry asked, intrigued.

"I learnt of his existence just a few months ago. During my stay with the werewolves. I didn't know about his story or Loba's, his mother. When I found out I had a son, I did all I could to find him, but that wasn't an easy thing to do. Around that same time, Loki found a friend…" He grimaced. "…in the person of Fenrir Greyback. That creature will never cease to plague my life. Anyway, when I finally managed to talk to him, Loki wasn't very impressed."

"But you're his father," Harry said with surprise. "Surely he should've been, I don't know, interested at least?"

"Loki doesn't work the same way we do, Harry," Remus said, seeming lost as he stared into his cup. "I can't say he was completely indifferent. But in a general way…I'm far from being one of his priorities."

"He grew up with another family, I imagine," the boy offered.

"The least that can be said," the werewolf gritted out, and Harry could see a flash of anger in his eyes.

"And…you were able to talk to them?"

"No, that would've been useless. Loba died recently; as for the rest of his…group, they want nothing to do with humans."

"Humans?" Harry gasped. "What do you mean by that? Was Loba really a witch?"

"She was one, yes," Remus ground out again, even more fiercely this time. His fingers were clenched around his cup, and Harry sensed it was ready to break. "A very long time ago."

Harry took a deep breath. "Do you want to tell me?" he asked at last. Lupin looked at him hesitantly.

"I intended to, but I'm not sure it's a good idea. You see, there's a reason all of that happened to Loba and Loki…and me. It involves the person who happens to be your new…father."

Harry sat up straight as his breath caught. "What do you mean by that? Remus, if this another ploy to try to put me off Severus, it won't work!”

"Oh, that's certainly not my intention," said the werewolf before grimacing. "All right, perhaps a little. But this story is true, and I think it's best you know it before all of this goes any further. I understand you're fond of Severus, Harry, and I've noticed he's just as fond of you. But even so, that doesn’t make him a good person. He himself said as much in the Headmaster's office last night—he doesn't bear that Mark for nothing. He's a wizard who's versed in Dark magic."

"Remus, that's enough," Harry said softly. "Let me decide what I want and what I should think, all right? I want to know Loki's story, and if Severus has something to do with it, I'm ready to hear it, but don't blacken the picture for me—that's not necessary."

"I won't need to," Remus grumbled. "Believe me, it’s horrible enough as it is."

The boy fidgeted uneasily in his armchair. "I'm listening."

"Very well," the professor began. "First, a bit of context. We'd only just finished our studies at Hogwarts—your parents, all the Marauders, including myself. And of course, Severus Snape. At the time, we were all understandably pulled into the war between Voldmort and the wizarding world…each of us in our own way. James, Lily and Sirius had begun their training to become Aurors. Peter, well, doesn't matter, and as for myself, I was reduced to a spectator role, too busy staying alive and not killing anyone."

He stopped a moment to take a swallow of coffee. Harry was careful not to interrupt him.

"You have to know that at the time, Wolfsbane hadn't been invented yet. So I had no way of avoiding the transformations, and I had to stay locked up during every full moon, and most of all, suffer its effects. I didn't weather it very well, physically or mentally. I was ready to do anything for a chance to lead a more or less normal life. It so happened at the time that Severus was studying to become a potions master. He was talented and well-known, and was directly involved in all the experimentation in progress, in both Dark and white magic."

Harry tensed noticeably in his armchair.

"That's when I heard talk of Damocles' first attempts to create a Wolfsbane Potion. I wasn't the only one holding out great hope for this project. There was a group of us werewolves—a half-dozen—all bitten as children by Greyback, and we wanted an escape from our condition. We were ready to submit to any experimentation for that.

"I don't think Severus was particularly interested in the potion, and even less by our plight. But the Ministry was, and the Order of Merlin had been announced as a reward for whoever managed to finalize it. Severus had always been greedy for recognition, and this was an excellent opportunity. I doubt at that time his loyalty was really with our side. Voldemort mustn't have had any objection, though, and Severus carried out his own studies on the potion, in partnership with Damocles. It took just a short time for a prototype to be ready, then a second. All that remained was to try the potions on volunteer subjects. Me and my friends."

He took another deep breath, and refilled his and Harry's coffee cups with a slightly trembling hand.

"Back then, I was in love with a young woman, a bit older than me, who suffered from the same curse. Her parents hadn't allowed her to go to Hogwarts, but she was very intelligent and sensitive. We got on very well."

"You went out together?" Harry asked curiously.

"Yes, you could say that," Remus said with a smile. "Anyway, our group was divided in two. My three friends preferred to test the potion made by Damocles, the inventor of the miracle remedy, which was understandable. As for me, I must confess I still felt guilty about how we'd treated Severus during our school years, especially how Sirius had almost got him killed. I found it all the more generous that he'd take an interest in the potion."

Given the bitter way Remus said the word 'generous', Harry suspected Snape's reasons must've been far from what the werewolf had imagined.

"So, Loba and I decided to willingly volunteer to test his potion. A cruel mistake, but even today, I think I'd do it all over again if it could've advanced the research." He sighed. "For the entire week leading up to the full moon, we took the potion. All of us were very excited. When the big day came, we gathered in two different locations, as instructed by the Potions master, and we waited.

"We were well-guarded, however: a guard for safety's sake in case of a potential problem, and it'd been decided that Loba and I would be free to come and go. This was one of the mistakes that was made. Anyway, when the moon rose, both of us transformed, but not into werewolves this time. Simply into wolves, the same way the current potion works."

"So what was the problem, then?" Harry wondered aloud.

"The problem… Ah, at that point in time, nothing. Loba and I took off into the forest, our instincts as strong as those of normal wolves. We spent the night there, and… Yes, well, I suppose you're old enough now to understand this sort of thing. Anyway, without our being aware, Loba got pregnant."

Harry couldn't hold back a smile. Remus' sudden embarrassment did nothing to help Harry keep a straight face. The rest of his account, on the other hand…

"When the moon was finally gone, and I went back to the base camp, I was alone. And to be honest, I didn't have much recall of what'd happened. I'd transformed back and become myself again."

"And Loba?" Harry asked, fearing his response.

"Loba never transformed back again," Remus answered. "The potion had a different effect on her. She wasn't herself. When I asked Severus what could've happened, he told me he'd probably miscalculated the dosage for a female, or that we'd simply reacted differently. Whatever it was, I never saw Loba again. And Severus never saw his Medal."

"But…didn't you look for her? I mean, maybe it would've been possible…to change her back or something?"

"She took off, Harry, and she no longer had a trace of magic. She met up with a pack of wolves and settled in with them, and according to what I pieced together later, it took years for her to gradually regain an awareness of her former life and what she was," Remus replied, his eyes closed. "When her reason finally returned to her…she decided not to come back. She preferred to stay with the wolves among whom her son, our son, grew up, rather than return to wizarding society."

"That must've been terrible for her and Loki," Harry said with a shudder. "I don't even understand how that's possible, a baby among wolves. I've heard stories about children born in the wild and all that, but…his entire childhood?"

"Which brings us to the next point: Loki," Remus said lowly. "You're thinking from a false presumption, Harry. Loki was born of a wolf and a she-wolf. He never was a child. He was a wolf cub. A wolf with tremendous powers, yes, but a wolf nonetheless."

This time Harry was speechless for a moment. "But…I saw him. He was like me, I mean, human. He transformed, but he was human at the start."

Remus nodded, his hands clenched around his cup. "He's a wizard, an Animagus, more or less. Something of that sort anyway," he murmured. "But he grew up as a wolf. From what I've learnt, it wasn't until he was almost fifteen that he transformed into a human for the first time. I imagine the shock must've been terrifying. And the only ones who were there to help him were his pack mates and his mother, herself trapped in that form."

"Merlin," Harry murmured. "It's not surprising that he's…different."

"He thinks like a wolf, he acts like a wolf," Remus agreed. "His human side is weak. He's very intelligent and cunning; he learnt to behave like a wizard, how to walk and use his magic, how to talk and…think like a human. But his nature is profoundly animalistic, in spite of it all."

"That's horrible, Remus," Harry said, floored. "I understand better now why you had trouble communicating with him; it's…horrible," he repeated, unable to find the right words.

"It's no so awful," Remus reassured him, "especially during the nights of the full moon, it's easy for us to be good friends. But I don't know how to handle all this, and it's clear Loki doesn't need me. I really want to make him come back to the side of the Light, make him understand that he's making a mistake, and that he can count on me. On us. Like I told you, he's not totally intolerant of my presence; Loba apparently still had a certain affection for me, but he doesn't really consider me his father either. Not how I'd like."

"I'm sorry, Remus; that must be very hard," Harry said sympathetically.

"Rather," the professor confessed. "To learn this now, when I thought I didn't have any more family, and then for everything to be so difficult…and all that's happened to you as well, Harry. That my own son attacked you…I’m absolutely horrified."

"Don't worry, everything will work out," the boy said as he shook his head. "I'm glad I didn't attack Loki. I'm sure you'll end up changing his mind, and make a family with him. Merlin, what I'm saying seems stupid, doesn't it? But it's true. A few months ago, no one would've thought Snape would give me a place in his rooms, huh?"

"No, certainly not," Remus pondered aloud. "And it's rather ironic that Severus finds himself with a family, and with you precisely, since all of this is his fault."

"Excuse me," Harry said hesitantly, "but I don't understand. It was just an experiment, wasn't it? I mean, you knew there would be risks…"

"It's not just that," Remus gritted. "He didn't take any precautions. His vanity pushed and blinded him—he was so sure of himself, so haughty. He should've made certain that Loba could be controlled. He should've foreseen…and he never regretted anything but the Medal. In fact, he was smug. For him, Loba was an acceptable loss! And Loki…was collateral damage. That's what he called him, collateral damage."

Actually, that sounded rather like Snape, Harry thought. Potions first…

"I'm really sorry, Remus," the boy offered. "I know it's horrible to say, but at least there was a positive side to it: the potion's effective now, and he makes it for you."

"Because Dumbledore asks it of him," the werewolf said brokenly. "I know what I owe him, but since I've learnt about Loki's existence…somehow that's not enough to make things even."

"So, please think about what he means to me," Harry said gently. "He saved my life, and in more ways than one. It's the first time I've had someone in my life that even comes close to a father, you know? And…I don't want either of you to be angry."

"I'm not so blind that I don't see the good he's doing you, Harry," Remus said with a wan smile. "I'll do my best, I can promise you that. I'd only ask that you remember he's not perfect, and that he wasn't always…what he is now."

"I know what he is. Better than anyone does, I think," Harry said. "Please stop this, Remus. Stop wanting to pull me away from him. I'll still be here if you need me, but I need Severus, all right?"

"Sometimes I wonder which of us is the adult," Remus sighed. "And as Dumbledore pointed out to me, I have lessons to learn from him right now. Have you already eaten? The elves served me an excellent chocolate cake this morning; I suspect they know my little weaknesses."

It was Harry's turn to smile. Yes, chocolate cake sounded perfect; it would give him time to digest what he'd just learnt.

When Severus appeared in the Floo a half-hour later, Remus and Harry were deep in conversation about Defense Against the Dark Arts class and the best way to arrange the spells to come in the program. All irritation had been forgotten, and the boy was surprised that the time had passed so quickly.

"It's time," Snape said simply, with a curt nod at Remus.

"I'm ready," Harry said as he joined him. "Do I need to take anything?"

"Your traveling cloak will suffice."

"I'm coming. Remus, thanks for the cake and coffee," he said to the professor. "We'll see each other in class, I guess."

"You're welcome here whenever you like, Harry," Remus replied softly. "Take care of yourself."

With a last wave goodbye, Harry stepped into the green flames. Severus was waiting for him in his rooms, his cloak in his hand, an expression of calculated indifference on his face. Despite everything, Harry quickly sensed that this façade hid an intense nervousness.

"Thanks," he said as he put on his cloak. "I didn't think time would pass so quickly. Remus told me Loki's story, you know? From the beginning. It was fascinating and…terribly sad at the same time." He shook his head. "I hope he manages to really get to talk to him. Have a real relationship with him. He deserves it; he's a good bloke, you know."

"Oh, I've no doubt about that," Snape sneered. "Without any sense of priorities, but most likely a typically true Gryffindor."

"It was still you he chose for the potions experiment," Harry pointed out. He didn't miss the flash of anger in Severus' eyes.

"He told you that," the professor said, his voice much too calm.

"Um, yeah, I think he holds that against you a bit; he wanted to put me on my guard or something like that. I understand what he must feel, but it was an experiment. He knew he was taking a risk," Harry explained to soothe him.

"And did he also tell you what would've happened if he'd chosen to test Damocles' potion?" Snape asked.

"No, not really."

"He'd be dead, very likely, like two of the other three werewolves. At least my formula didn't kill anyone. Whatever Lupin thinks, I still consider that a clear-cut improvement," Snape scoffed.

"They died?" Harry exclaimed, horrified.

"Yes, two of Damocles' three subjects," the Potions master answered.

"How…what happened?"

"The dosage of his invention wasn't right, just as I'd supposed. I'd revised my own, correctly, since it's that formulation that's become the official one," Snape replied with a note of pride.

"But Loba wasn't able to transform back again," Harry pointed out.

Severus nodded. "At the time, I thought I'd miscalculated the dosage for her weight and body build. Now, in the light of recent events, I think they were correct. My error was in not foreseeing that those two degenerate morons would be incapable of resisting their primal instincts and would go off into the forest to copulate!"

Harry almost choked at his words, half in surprise, half in horror. "You…you mean…the fact that Remus and Loba had…that they…"

"Potter, get a hold of yourself," Snape said sternly. "I mean quite simply that the fact that Loba became pregnant probably prevented her from transforming back. If I had the slightest ounce of regret concerning those events, I'd take great pleasure in throwing that in Lupin's face right now. Dosage error…I don't make dosage errors!"

"Oh Merlin," Harry moaned. "I don't think I want to know any more about this. It's totally creepy, from start to finish. Enough, subject closed!"

"With great pleasure," the Potions master muttered. "If I never hear another word about Remus Lupin and his progeny, I'll be the happiest man in the world."

"In the meantime," Harry said somberly, "we have to go to the Dursleys', and I know better ways to brighten my day."

A sympathetic hand rested on his shoulder, and Harry smiled at the professor as he wrapped himself in his cloak. Warm, he noted, and thick…of a quality he'd never possessed until now.

"Thanks," he said gratefully. "For the cloak and the clothes; they're wonderful."

"Nothing less than you deserve," Snape affirmed. "It's unacceptable for you to return there in clothing unworthy of you, Harry. I know this will be difficult for you, but be assured straight away that the Aurors have checked every part of the house and it presents no danger. We must know how it will react to your presence, but there is nothing bad awaiting you there. It's just a routine visit, and we'll be protected the entire time by the Aurors posted on the outside."

"I'm not worried," Harry said, surprised. "It's more a matter of bad memories. I've not been back there since the night when…I went to your house."

"Things have indeed changed," Severus agreed. "Whatever happens, don't forget I'll be there with you."

"Maybe it'd be simpler if I went there in my other form?" the boy suggested.

"You'll need to be in your human form to go through and test the remaining magic that might still be there. On second thought, though, you can make the trip as you like."

That was all it took for a contented black cat to jump to his shoulder. Snape smiled slightly. "Very well. In that case, first to the Manor, and we'll Apparate directly from there. Hold on, alley cat." Merlin, how quickly he was becoming accustomed to this weight on his shoulder.

It took less than a minute for the wizard to Apparate into the shelter of the hedge within the Dursleys' garden, the cat on his shoulder. He felt Shadow freeze, eyes wide as he stared at the house. His house…but it'd take a long while for Harry to think of it that way, if he ever would, Severus thought.

At last, the cat jumped to the ground and quickly transformed. Snape put a hand on the boy's shoulder to bring him back to reality.

"Do you feel the Aurors' magic around you, Harry?" he asked softly.

The boy blinked several times before concentrating. "Um, I'd say three people? And I think Tonks is one of them!" he said in surprise.

"Exactly. They'll stay undercover as long as nothing worrisome occurs. The place is well protected, as you can see."

But the next instant proved him wrong. It wasn't a wizard who appeared in the gap of the hedge, but a Muggle wearing such a nasty expression on her face that Severus briefly wondered if she'd not forgotten to remove her Death Eater mask.

"You! How dare you come back here! Well, you've a lot of nerve," the woman snapped at Harry.

"Mrs. Peterson…" the boy began, then stopped. What was he supposed to answer to that?

"I see the years spent at St. Brutus' didn't do you much good! Incorrigible delinquent, that's what you are!" the woman spat, clearly pleased with the effect. "Always ready to cause honest people trouble! These poor, poor Dursleys. I don't care what the inquest said, young man, and believe me, everyone here thinks the same as me. We all know they didn't die accidentally! Just lucky you didn't have the nerve to show your hateful face at the funeral."

Deciding that this little caustic speech might go on even longer, Severus took a breath and stepped forward.

"If you'll excuse me," he said in a polite but insincere tone that made Harry shudder, "would you, by any chance, be speaking to my son?"

The question had the intended effect, and the woman stopped, mouth hanging open.

"Pardon? Your…what…you…"

"If that's indeed the case," Snape went on impassively, "I'd be curious to know what this St. Brutus of which you speak is?"

"Well, see, St. Brutus' Center for Incurably Criminal Boys," said Mrs. Peterson as she regained her composure. "Everyone knows that Harry's boarded there for years. He was becoming too difficult for the Dursleys to handle, evidently."

Her critical eyes swept over the Potions master, clearly revealing what she thought of his manners and behavior.

"I'm completely ignorant of what you might have to say, but having been Harry's professor for the past six years, I can assure you that the institution where he boards, and which is among the most selective in Great Britain, accepts no delinquents," Snape said coldly. Or at the very least, if one didn't take into account Draco Malfoy and a few Marauders. But he kept himself from saying this aloud.

As for the undesirable neighbor, she didn't seem to know what to think anymore.

"Severus, it's not worth the trouble," said a small voice at his side. He turned to the boy. "I just want to get this all over with, sign the papers and go home. It's really not important."

But Mrs. Peterson let out a little snort that sounded much like a snigger, and Snape felt his annoyance go up a notch.

"It would appear," he said scornfully, "that not only is the house completely uninteresting, but what's more I see that the neighborhood is an absolute disaster. Between your residence in London and the Manor, I don't see what you could do with it."

This time, the woman let out a small gasp of shock, Snape satisfied with her stunned expression.

"As for you, madam, unless you want to apologize to my son for your rude remarks, I bid you to be on your way without any further delay. As well as setting a poor example, your deplorable manners are on the verge of irritating me. And believe me, you don't want to irritate me."

The professor's threatening tone of voice must've hit the mark, because Mrs. Peterson took a step back and, noticing another neighbor on the opposite pavement, she left without a backwards glance.

"Unbearable creature," Snape murmured.

"Welcome to my life," Harry sighed.

"Your old life, Harry," the wizard corrected him. "Best to go in before the entire neighborhood decides to come pay a courtesy visit."

"I suppose so. Do you have the key?"

Snape took out a key ring from his cloak and handed it to the boy, who couldn't help but tremble. The keys to the house… He'd never had a right to them when the Dursleys were alive. Not that they'd be very useful to him, obviously, but symbolically… He shrugged. Snape was right—he'd probably never come back here anyway. He could already picture the 'For Sale' sign on the lawn. But strangely, the thought didn't bring him any satisfaction.

After all, Mrs. Peterson hadn't been wrong in saying that the Dursleys hadn't died by accident. The house should've gone to Dudley one day. Vernon and Petunia should've grown old here, within these walls, but there was no use to dwelling on that now.

The click of the key sounded familiar, and he pushed open the door with a slight anxiety in the pit of his stomach.

Time seemed to have stopped at number four, Privet Drive. Nothing had changed here since he'd left, nor since he'd first known the house. The foyer was as spotless as always, the framed photos showed an unmoving and smiling Dursley family. Everything was just…normal. The kitchen door was open, and one could've thought that the family had eaten there that very morning. How many times had he cleaned the tiled floor, washed the dishes, prepared meals in that oven? The windows seemed a bit dirty. For a second, he was tempted to go for a rag and the cleaner in the cupboard and wash them before Aunt Petunia scolded him. He shook his head. No one would scold him for anything today. He could even turn the place upside down if he wanted to. It was his house.

His house. He shivered; no, number four, Privet Drive would never be his. It was everywhere, from the photos in the foyer, to the attic where he'd never been allowed, to the very heart of these brick walls that he hated and which hated him back. Cold. Hostile. He could feel it in the icy air here, and in the traces of magic that he sensed.

In reality, the only positive energy he could pick up was Severus', who remained silently at his side.

Too silent. The entire house was much too silent.

"Nothing's changed," he said aloud, the sound of his own voice almost making him startle. "Everything's exactly like when I left. I remember when I was little, I told myself that if I ever had the house to myself, I'd make a mess everywhere. But really, that wouldn't work. That's the way things turn out. I spent too much time picking up and cleaning to do that now."

Snape didn't say anything, even though Harry could sense that he understood. Without paying him any attention, Harry went on into the kitchen.

"You see? When I was really little, I just cleaned the floor with a cloth. I had trouble holding the broom, and I'd always end up wet and smelly. I was really small, I think, when I started. When I'd grown a bit, I did the dishes and the cooking. Aunt Petunia had a stool I used so I could be higher. I burnt myself all the time—on the water and with the pans. It took me a long time to learn I had to run the burns under the cold tap. I thought the stove and oven were monsters trying to hurt me. And the garden. The hoovering, that wasn't as hard, and the laundry too. Didn't make much difference to me. I didn't have anything else to do anyway."

He shrugged. Dudley had never had enough toys, but as for himself….

"Sometimes, I hid old broken toys that my cousin threw away, and I tried to play when no one was around. Problem was, there was never 'no one.' I couldn't be left alone in the house, sometimes I'd explode things, I suppose. It's almost weird that they let me cook, when I think about it."

Snape still didn't say anything, and Harry had just about forgotten he was there. He followed the boy into the sitting room, though.

"And Aunt Petunia's teas—everything had to be spotless. Didn't matter that it was me who waxed the table and fixed the tea and toast, and dusted; I knew she and her friends never missed a chance to speak badly of me and my parents. The horrible little nephew, abandoned by his alcoholic parents, spoiling such a beautiful family. And to hear Aunt Petunia, you would've believed they really treated me like their son. It almost would've been touching, if I hadn't heard all that from my cupboard."

But he didn't head for the cupboard. No, there was no reason to, he knew perfectly well. The sitting room, though, and all its photographs, furniture he had the right to touch because it belonged to him now. He could trail his finger along the white walls, break the picture frames, scratch the floorboards and no one would have a thing to say to him.

But for what? The Dursleys weren't there any longer to be angry about it.

"I'm going to take a look upstairs," he announced. "I'll be back."

As if he'd understood that Harry wanted to be alone, Snape headed for the garden, leaving him to go up the polished stairs, his heart pounding.

Would his little room still be there? It was, of course, but it appeared the Dursleys had decided he wouldn't be staying in it anymore. The padlocks on the door had been removed, the door itself repainted, and now what looked like a video game room had been set up there. Apparently, Dudley had taken over the space.

Harry stood frozen in the doorway. Perhaps the room was filled with armchairs and computer desks, but he didn't see them. Not really. All he saw was an old bed, an almost empty wardrobe, and bars on the windows, and he especially saw Uncle Vernon.

He quickly shut the door again. No, he really didn't want to go inside again. Turning around, he opened the door to Dudley's room. Stacked almost to the ceiling with high-tech gadgets and games, it had hardly changed. The atmosphere here was unfriendly, but less so than in the other rooms. Something nostalgic, a bit of regret, maybe…

He would never have the chance to get along with his cousin now. Not that he'd ever thought they'd be friends one day, but in spite of everything, they'd grown up together, and Harry had always told himself that later, when they were adults, when they each had a family…

It was stupid, obviously. Dudley had always looked down on him anyway. He probably would've become just like his father as he got older, even though something in Harry made him doubt that. Whatever he might think of Vernon and Petunia, his cousin hadn't deserved to die so young, and even less so in the way that he had.

On the desk, a piece of paper caught his attention. Someone had tried to write a letter, and he recognized Dudley's crude handwriting. It was addressed to a Betty, and Harry understood right away that she was a girl whom his cousin had liked at school.

The phrasing was so awkward, but the effort so obvious that Harry couldn't help but feel touched. And Betty would never have her letter. Dudley in love. It was totally surreal.

Unable to resist, the boy began to rummage through the drawers. Class texts that didn't seem much used, boxing magazines, sweet wrappers…and well-hidden at the back of the drawer, other magazines, but these weren't boxing ones. Harry laughed softly. Girls had definitely seemed to interest Dudley recently. He was ready to shut the drawer when a scrap of paper caught his eye. He pulled it out, revealing a slight gap in the wooden back of the drawer—a false bottom! But what could Dudley have hidden that would be even more secret than porn magazines?

Intrigued, he manipulated the piece of wood to make it slide, and to his great surprise, discovered books again. But not class books, no. "Witchcraft in Great Britain." "Understanding Magic." "Wizards and Magicians."

Stunned, Harry sat heavily in the desk chair. Dudley had tried to learn more about magic? About him? What could've gotten into him? Was it possible that he was searching for information to try and become a wizard himself, to become more powerful? Or was it simply to understand it?

Given his parents' opinion on the subject, Harry understood very well the need to hide these materials.

Feeling more uncomfortable than ever, he put the books back in their place and quickly left the room. All of a sudden, he wasn't sure he wanted to go on with this visit. But this would surely be the last time he'd come here, and he had to see it through to the end. Ill at ease, he opened the door to Petunia and Vernon's room. He'd never been allowed in here, even to clean, and he didn't want to go in today either. Even less to discover any of his uncle and aunt's possible secrets.

What exactly was he looking for? he wondered. What was he supposed to discover or trigger? He could sense that the place was permeated with magic, mainly his own, but, then, what was surprising about that in this house where he'd grown up? And the house, he could sense, was pushing against him as hard as it could. Mostly and especially Dudley's second bedroom. He could feel the dark waves oozing from beneath the door, escaping like shadows, swirling around the still visible marks from the locks.

Taking a deep breath, he headed for the room again. He wasn't a coward; he wouldn't shrink away from the illusions his mind was creating for him. But he'd scarcely shut the door behind him when he realized he'd been wrong. The room wasn't a video game room at all. It was a prison, a torture chamber, and Vernon was waiting for him, his belt in his hand, his eyes burning with irrational fury. It was dark and terribly cold. Harry could see the condensation from his breath as he watched Vernon come toward him; he himself was unable to move at all.

"How dare you come back here?" the man growled, cracking his belt in the air. "How dare you set a foot in here, after what you've done?"

Harry opened his mouth, but no sound came out.

"I always said we should've left you in front of the nearest orphanage! You've destroyed our family! We took you in and you got us killed, all of us! Even my poor Dudley who was only sixteen! You're a freak, a freak!"

Vernon didn't exist, he wasn't there, it was only his mind playing tricks, Harry tried to repeat in his head. Unsuccessfully.

"You deserve everything that's happened to you, and don't you dare claim it was in any way our fault. Who could love someone like you? Your own parents died because of you! You don't deserve a family, you've never deserved one; you're just a worthless burden who always brings death to those around you! Your parents, Sirius, us, what more do you want? No one wants you, especially not here!"

Once again, the belt cracked, much closer this time. Vernon was only a few feet away now, his red face twisted with rage.

"Get in your cupboard. Go there where no one will have to see you, and stay there!" he shouted.

Harry leaped and grabbed the doorknob. For a second, it seemed as if it were refusing to budge, before finally turning in his hands. He ran out of the room, then hurtled down the steps, his eyes blurry. The cupboard, he had to get back in the cupboard, quickly, and never come out again. Stay there where he wouldn't bother anyone. No one.

Without knowing how he'd got there, he blinked as he realized he was in the dusty, foul-smelling cubbyhole, crouched down amongst the brooms and bottles of cleaners, at the back of what had been his room for ten years.

Safe. Or at the very least, alone.

Home.

The place that had been his only semblance of refuge during his childhood, in the blackness. A blackness so dark that it was almost impenetrable, as if it were growing in intensity, filling the small space, protecting him from the eyes of the rest of the world. Arms wrapped around his legs, he pressed his forehead to his knees.

Uncle Vernon was right. He had to stay here, never leave again, be forgotten. Then maybe trouble would stop hounding him.

The door opened, letting in the light, and he curled up a bit more against the wall. No, not now, he'd not done anything, he just wanted to be left alone.

It seemed that someone was sliding in next to him in the cupboard, and he felt the blackness fighting as it retreated, furious at the intrusion, at this other magic confronting it. A hand touched his shoulder, and he jumped.

"Harry."

The boy squeezed his eyes shut as hard as he could.

"Go away. Leave me alone."

"Harry, look at me," said the somber voice.

Severus, he thought, it was Severus, but he didn't want to look up and see his expression.

Harry did it anyway.

The man's face was lined with worry and gentleness. "Harry, everything is all right, they can't hurt you anymore," the wizard said.

But far from comforting him, the words abruptly fueled Harry's anger.

"Go away! You don't know what you're talking about! I’m the one who hurts people… He was right. Dumbledore should've never left me here!"

"No, he shouldn't have," Snape agreed. "Anyone else would've treated you better than these Muggles."

"That's not true!" Harry cried. "They did their best, I didn't deserve a family anyway, not after what happened to my parents! Leave me alone, leave me alone, leave me alone!"

But the Potions master didn't make a move to leave. "You know that's not true," he said gently. "None of what happened to your parents, nor to the Dursleys, was your fault. You have the right to live your life, a normal one, like all children do. You have the right to have a family."

"I don't want one," the boy said hoarsely. "It always ends badly anyway."

"Do you think it will end badly for us as well?" Snape asked softly.

"I'm sure of it," Harry replied. "You'll get yourself killed because of me—that's almost happened several times already. Or you'll go away. You'll get tired of me. You'll desert me like before."

"That won't happen," the professor said. "None of it."

"What do you know?" the boy shouted. "I know it. And you really don't want me, it just turned out this way, but it won't last, you'll leave too."

"I won't leave, I promise you," Severus said as he squeezed his shoulder.

"Promises don't mean anything," Harry ground out as he rested his forehead on his knees. "I know you can't really be my family. I was just hoping…but it won't work. You're like all the others. You've just been forced to take care of me because of the war, the prophecy, and all the rest of it. I don't want it. I don't want it anymore."

It was the man's turn to scold, as he seized the boy by the shoulders and forced him to face him. "That's enough. I refuse to allow this little pity party to go on a second longer! I'm a man of my word and I keep my commitments, Harry James Potter, and not because I'm obliged to, but because I wish to! I want you, stupid child, what must I do to prove that to you?"

"Nothing," the boy said as he struggled, "leave me alone—I told you, all of that's just because of Dumbledore! He stuck you with me, and now you feel obligated to do it for him, for my mother, for all of them! I don't want it! I'd rather be by myself!"

"No one obligated me to do anything. This little discussion is completely foolish! Harry, I had a hundred opportunities to send you back to Hogwarts if I'd wanted; if all of this had only been a question of duty, I wouldn't have challenged the Headmaster to be able to keep you with me. I'm attached to you, stupid cat, stupid boy, and I won't stand for being sent away because of a simple bout of hysteria!"

"My parents told me," the boy stammered out, his eyes suddenly empty, "that they regretted I'd been born. That I wasn't worth the trouble. That I was a disappointment. That they would've rather been alive…without me. Even my parents."

Severus' mind quickly put the pieces of the puzzle together.

"That was an act, Harry, like all the rest of it. A grotesque comedy orchestrated by Lucius Malfoy and his cronies—it had nothing to do in any way with your parents. Those were Death Eaters in disguise, trying to hurt you in the most vicious way possible."

"Sirius was there too," Harry murmured. "They hate me. All of them. And Dumbledore. You weren't there, but doesn't matter, I know you despise me too. You did before, and one day or another, I'll do something and you'll hate me again. And honestly, I don't think I could bear it, so I'd rather you leave now."

"For the hundredth and last time, I'm not going anywhere, and all these hideous scenarios never happened! Whatever I might think of Black, I'm convinced he didn't spend a second wondering why he was dying. He did what he did out of love for you, and nothing will change that. He doesn't hate you any more than your parents do, no more than I do. I'm sorry that these people who were your real family can't watch over you, Harry, but as long as you want me by your side, I'll be here, and nothing in the world will make me change my mind. Not even these little fits of hysteria, which, all things considered, are understandable in this place."

But the boy continued to shake his head. "No. No. It won't work. I can't have a family. I can't."

Severus put an arm around Harry's shoulders to pull him against him, and Harry began to struggle.

"Stupid child," Snape scolded gently without releasing him. "It will come down to you choosing the day when I'll sign these papers for this little crisis to pass. Harry, calm down. Harry."

But the boy was beside himself, and redoubled his efforts to escape from his grasp.

"Harry Potter, imbecilic cat, are you going to look at what I'm trying to show you, or will it be necessary for me to put you under a Petrificus to make you read it?" the professor thundered, his voice serious.

The tone of his voice made the boy instantly cease his efforts to free himself, and his eyes focused on the bundle of papers that the man was practically waving in front of him, all the while holding on to Harry.

The first think that struck him was the Ministry seal. Then the word 'adoption.' Then his name in big letters, and Snape's.

An official adoption request, signed by Severus' hand.

"No one has forced me to do anything, Harry," he said gently when he was certain the boy'd understood. "Dumbledore, in fact, was rather surprised by my request. Anyway, if you accept this, we'll truly be a family and no one will be able to interfere in my decisions about you, not even the Ministry."

Dazed, Harry looked up at the professor's face. "You…you want to be my legal guardian?"

"No, I want to be your father. Officially, in everyone's eyes, and yours in particular."

Silence filled the cupboard, but it wasn't a heavy silence this time. Slowly, his eyes moving back and forth between the papers and the face of his new father, Harry relaxed. His hand gripped the man's sleeve tensely.

"Please," he murmured, "if you have to change your mind, do it now. Because in a minute, I'm going to accept it all, really accept it, and if you decide later that you don't want it anymore…I won't be able to stand it. So, please, do it now."

Severus sighed and ran a hand through the boy's hair. "I'm not going to change my mind—not today or ever. There've been few things in my life that seem as certain and permanent to me as this one, and nothing will convince me otherwise. I only regret that this revelation didn't occur sooner, Harry…but life is what it is, and I intend to make up for lost time. You're already my son, papers or not, as far as I'm concerned. It's something I cannot reconsider…even if I must now ask the same favor of you that you've asked of me—to decide if you truly want to back out today, before I send these papers to the Ministry. If you change your mind later on this subject, Harry, I'll also have a great deal of difficulty accepting it."

His eyes wide, the boy studied the man. He knew that Snape was sincere, that he meant what he was saying…that he really meant it. That Harry could hurt him by refusing. By why would he have refused?

Unable to answer with words, Harry wrapped his arms around Snape's chest, and buried his face in his robes. His relief was so immense that it almost hurt…

"Please," he murmured through the cloth, "I want to go home."

Severus closed his arms around him, and with a loud crack, they Disapparated.