The first thing Severus Snape did on entering his lab was check that the little monster was still asleep. He was relieved to see the cat peer up at him with the bleary-eyed look of one who has slept deeply: nothing in the room was out of place, so at least disaster had been averted today.

The cat stretched sluggishly on his jumper, finding it hard to wake up. That fish had had a strange, bitter aftertaste… and he'd fallen asleep again. There was something not quite right here … The little voice that ceaselessly kept telling him not to trust the Man had woken up.

But was it really so bad after all? He'd never slept so much in his life! Cats were said to sleep a lot… cats. Cats?

He dismissed the thought ; his mind was too foggy to think right now. The Man In Black was back ! Maybe he'd get something else to eat? He headed toward the Man unsteadily.

Snape had no time to waste. He didn’t know when the Dark Lord would call him again and it was out of the question to give him another excuse to torture him. Not that he needed an excuse anyway…

He pulled out his wand and lit a fire under a cauldron. What was he going to need ? His thoughts wandered back to the Death Eater meeting. Lucius and Bellatrix had already been in a sorry state when he arrived, but their master’s rage had not as of yet cooled. Much on the contrary…

Snape’s ignorance of Potter’s fate had aggravated his wrath. Malfoy Manor, where Voldemort and his closest Death Eaters had settled, now looked like the seventh circle of Hell, terror and suffering poisoning the atmosphere. Some Death Eaters, Lucius and Bellatrix among them, had been lying on the ground, moaning, while others had been trying to appear inconspicuous and escape Riddle's murderous rage. Broken furniture and the charred remnants of paintings littered the floor.

Snape had briefly thought that, all things considered, the Order meeting hadn't been all that bad.

He shuddered, remembering what had followed. The icy, smooth voice of the Dark Lord calling him to his side, asking him how he could have missed such an important piece of information… how could he not know what had happened to Potter, how he had escaped ? Nothing frightened Severus more than that artificially friendly voice…

When he'd finally admitted that he hadn't been able to extract any more information out of the Order, Voldemort had stopped feigning sympathy.

He'd no doubt made it very clear what he thought of his spy’s incompetence, but Snape hadn't heard it. At that point, he'd been too busy trying to withstand the Cruciatus curse.

Yes, the Dark Lord had been particularly upset. When he'd finally let him go to prepare his potions, it had taken Snape several minutes to get to his feet and gather enough strength to head for the fireplace.

Now, he had to remember what the Dark Lord wanted in his next delivery…

He turned towards the cupboard and jumped. A few feet away from him, the cat was watching him, sitting on his backside, his large green eyes full of hope and curiosity.

Suddenly, Voldemort, the Death Eaters, the pain, the anguish disappeared, leaving only the comical sight of this animal watching him with his strange bleary look, with those eyes which reminded him so much of another set……

He let out a long breath, realising only then that he had been practically holding his breath back since the meeting at Grimmauld Place, breathing only shallowly.

How was this cat able to stand out in such sharp contrast to the room he was in, given this day? It was just a black cat, one of those cats who were supposed to bring bad luck and stare at you with piercing eyes, like a Legilimens, to make you ill at ease.

But this one just looked as though he didn’t know what to do with himself, as if he'd just fallen from the sky with absolutely no idea of how he was supposed to act. Or be.

Kittens were always funny, he thought, and this one had still not quite grown out of being one.

"You can’t be hungry already, you only ate a few hours ago!" he told the cat, who watched him, his head cocked to the side..

"Hmm. I suppose that in your case, a little extra food wouldn't hurt."

The cat watched the Man In Black as he filled his bowl with fish, adding a strange liquid to it. He licked his chops : the man truly understood him ! He'd been afraid the man would forget him, busy as he was with his potions. He had seemed tenser with each pass though the fireplace. The cat could tell from his posture that he was in pain, and even more clearly, that he was nervous.

Something told him that it would be best not to draw attention to himself when the man was like this, but he couldn’t help sitting quietly, a few steps away. He would have actually enjoyed some food, but even more than that, he wished confusedly to be able to do something to calm the man…

The Man In Black had taken good care of him and given him food. Still, something deep inside of him told him that the man didn’t like him. Not at all.

Yet he'd let him stay comfortably by the fire, his belly full and his wounds taken care of……

All of this confused the cat. He stayed there, watching the man as he worked, not knowing what else to do, until the man turned around and caught sight of him.

For a moment, his expression seemed pained and troubled, but then the light in his eyes gave way to a measure of amusement. His shoulders relaxed a bit, and… he'd remembered to give him some fish !

The cat was doubly pleased: not only was his bowl full, but the Man In Black seemed less upset now!

He knew that cats were not supposed to be grateful and something deep inside him told him to be wary of the man and his food. But for now, gratitude and hunger silenced all his inner voices.

Snape watched as the cat devoured the fish with its usual enthusiasm. The cat was eating as if it was afraid he’d never see food again… The more he thought about it, the less he liked that. If not for the odd collar, Severus would've without a doubt categorized it as an abused and abandoned cat. The animal never rubbed against his legs, it tensed when his hand reached out, and showed all the signs of having been mistreated.

He was tempted to examine the collar again, but gave up the idea. It would be a shame to bother the cat during his meal; the show was simply too funny.

Funny ?

Yes, the cat was funny. How anything could still manage to entertain him after recent events, and especially while the saviour of the wizarding world was still missing and maybe even dead, he didn’t know which it was, but he welcomed the distraction.

If anyone ever learned that he was smiling over the antics of a young cat that evoked Harry Potter, he swore that he'd Obliviate them.

The cat licked his chops. He waited a while to see if sleep would come again, but nothing happened so he looked around with satisfaction.

The Man In Black had returned to his potions. He seemed less nervous now, but also more tired. His movements were precise but weary, as he manipulated the ingredients in silence.

The cat stretched out to watch him. His silhouette seemed familiar... those black wizard's robes, the long hair that fell to his shoulders...

His greasy hair...

Why did the idea amuse him? Like an old joke he would've forgotten where he'd first heard it...

A few black strands fell into his face, which was focused on his work. A veritable mask, the cat could read only determination there. What could be troubling the man so much? He didn't smile, his voice was often threatening. But somehow, this seemed both natural and familiar to the cat.

The cat lost himself in a contemplation of the man's hypnotic gestures.

"Open your books to page 208 ."

The cat blinked.

"Too light. Add another root, Weasley."

Things jumbled together in the cat’s head. The Man In Black, with potions, in a dungeon, but not this one... other people...

"Potter! If you spent as much time studying as you do signing autographs, your potions might perhaps resemble something other than soup! Five points from Gryffindor!"

A sudden feeling of hatred for the Man In Black took the cat by surprise, then faded away. He got up and turned around in a circle..

Potter, the Man In Black had called him Potter when he'd yelled at him. Was it some sort of insult? Probably.... ' Potter ' did stupid things. The Man didn't like Potter. But when he was ' The Cat ', he gave him food and paid him attention to him. Since he'd been, he'd felt safe and had no longer worried about anything.

In his memory, it seemed to him that a black cloud hovered over him menacingly... something which never went away, which oppressed him, against which he should have fought, but could do nothing...

Here, all of that no longer mattered. When he'd crossed over the dungeon's threshold, he'd left the hovering cloud behind. The Man In Black had chased it away by taking him in his arms...

After several hours spent grinding, mixing, stirring and boiling, Snape was finally able to look up from his workbench. Everything was ready; the only thing left to do was to wait for his potions to finish heating or settling. He was finally going to be able to take a potion to relieve the pain that Cruciatus had seared into his muscles. He'd been afraid that without that constant burning sensation, he wouldn't have been able to concentrate enough to finish his work. He'd never needed much sleep, not even when he'd been a student at Hogwarts, but Voldemort's little games had drained his energy.

The worry, as well…

He settled himself carefully in the room's only armchair, opposite the fireplace. The cat watched him, eyes half-closed, while he drank the potion. The tension bled slowly out of his body, leaving his mind free to wander.

He reviewed the course of his long day. First of all, this cat, come out of nowhere, covered in blood. Then the meeting at Grimmauld Place and Potter's disappearance. The general hostility. Voldemort's call, his interrogation, his dissatisfaction – once again. No matter what he did, it never seemed to be enough.

He looked at the cat, which hadn't taken its eyes off him. It looked half-intrigued, half-afraid to see him up so close. He stretched out his hand to touch it and the cat hunched slightly away from him.

"Let's see how you're doing... your wounds look better. They're not fully closed yet, but they should heal up well. It looks like you haven't tried to lick them... odd little cat".

He thought for a moment. Yes, the wounds had responded well to the salve. The cat seemed more comfortable, more lively than when he'd found it, which wasn't at all surprising, considering how much he'd eaten. But Severus felt that he might fall asleep, and a lively, curious cat in a lab full of unstable potions was exactly what he didn't need. He thought about shutting the cat in a room... But the day was so lovely, he said to himself, looking out the basement window. Surely a young cat would be better off playing outside, now that his wounds weren't troubling him so much.

Of course, there was always the chance that the cat would go home and never come back... But it would be just as well, Snape decided..

He looked at the little black body curled up on his sweater. The animal had been the only positive thing in these past two days of vigil. Who knew, maybe it would come back when it was hungry, now that it had found a full bowl?

The Potions professor stood and took the cat in his arms.

"Time to go. You must be wanting your freedom. I hope that you'll have the intelligence not to go back to whoever did this to you..." he said, running his hand over the fur of the trembling cat.

The cat's heart was beating like it would burst. All his muscles tensed as he felt the Man In Black carry him up the stairs, open the heavy wooden door, and set him down in the grass.

"Take care of yourself, Cat," said the man in a low voice, before turning on his heel and closing the door on the cat..

Paralyzed, the cat didn't dare to move at first. He felt the wind in his fur, then heard a crackling from somewhere behind him and leapt into the air.

The lab! He wanted to go back down, to be warm, on the sweater, near the Man In Black! Why had he put him outside?

He looked around. Where to go? What to do? He wasn't afraid, but he didn't feel safe either. Even though his wounds weren't really hurting him anymore, he still needed rest. Caring. Food. Protection? Just for a little while, before the black shadow came back….

Lost, the cat took a few steps in the grass. Trailing along the wall, he looked despairingly for another opening.

A few meters from the door, he finally found a break in the wall, an arch with bars over it... He shivered. He didn't like bars... But beyond the bars, there was a window. And behind that window, he could see the familiar shadows of the dungeon, the fireplace, the table, the shelves... and the Man In Black who had finally fallen asleep in his armchair.

“Better than nothing," he thought.

And he curled up in a ball against the window.

Snape dreamt of the Dark Lord.

Not too surprising, giveng recent events, he mused, vaguely aware he was dreaming.Voldemort was unhappy. Lucius and Bellatrix's faces were twisted. Dumbledore was disappointed. Tonks, Moody and the Weasleys were glaring at him accusingly.

"You must protect Harry! Where is Harry?"

The faces swirled around him.

The eyes... and in the middle of them, a pair of green ones that looked at him differently..

"Thank you... "

Lily?

But the face changed. No, not Lily; Potter. No, not Potter either...

The cat sprang from the circle of his accusers and bounded to his side. It winked at Severus conspiratorily, then took up a stand between Severus and the others.

“He took care of me! Don’t you dare say anything!"

Snape woke up with a start.

That cat!

His gaze drifted to the deserted jumper at the side of the fireplace. He felt a moment of doubt, but no, he had put the cat out before going to sleep. Feeling slightly guilty, he thought that he could have fed him beforehand… if only to reward him for having defended him in a dream.

What was the time? He looked up at the air vent and startled.

Two green eyes, full of hope, were watching him. It had started to rain and the cat was trembling slightly, but seemed to have no intention of moving,looking into the lab through the window, as if he would've liked to Apparate to the inside..

Grumbling, Snape climbed the stairs and opened the door. The cat left his niche, soaked with rain, and gave the Potions Master a distraught look.

"Why didn’t you go home? Are you still too weak? It’s ridiculous to sit there in the rain like that!"

Severus was troubled; this cat truly didn’t behave like an ordinary cat. He motioned to the door with his chin.

“Come on, go in.”

The cat seemed to hesitate, but didn’t move, his gaze more questioning than ever.

Snape grumbled again and went to pick up the cat. The cat froze, but didn’t try to fight as the man took him back into the dungeon.

Snape refused to admit it, but he felt somewhat satisfied…

Snape soon had to admit to the evidence: the cat had absolutely no intention of leaving. He'd immediately retaken possession of his jumper, of the laboratory, and obviously of the Potions master himself.

At the beginning, Snape had put the cat outside each time he'd had to leave for a while ; the animal hadn't liked it at first, but then, realising that his exile was only temporary, it had used the time to take a bit of sun..

But he was always at the door or the air vent when the Man came back to get him…

The rest of the house didn't interest him. He'd been tempted to follow Snape when he invited him to do so, but he didn’t like the thought of leaving the protection of the dungeon. So, he'd contented himself with watching worriedly as the man walked away, wishing he would stay with him by the fire…

Snape hadn't insisted. In a way, the cat was now part of the decor of the laboratory. He watched him brewing potions for hours, lying on his jumper or seated on a chair, a discreet and friendly presence and… yes, comforting too, as strange as that might seem. The green eyes blinked each time their eyes met, as if to say, "Well done!” and while the whole world seemed to reproach him for his incompetence, this look of approval had a value all its own..

And Snape got used to the cat’s presence far more quickly than he would have thought. Outside, the wizarding world was shaken and shouting. Potter’s disappearance had not been made public, but the rumour was spreading like wildfire…

The Order of the Phoenix and the Death Eaters had both pulled out all the stops to be the first to find the precious brat, and Snape, stuck between them, was playing mediator. Both sides intended to make him an active participant, and to get him to extort as much information as possible from the other.

Of course, neither Voldemort nor the Order was given the slightest lead, and both were both equally unhappy with his services.

Only Dumbledore and Molly Weasley still took the trouble to encourage him, acknowledging his thankless part in this affair ; but the more time passed, the more tensions mounted and tongues became sharper.

The chances of finding Potter alive were dwindling. Many thought that he had splinched himself, trying to Apparate alone, or that he'd ended up in the middle of an ocean or in some other place just as stupid as well as dangerous.

The Dark Lord himself started to believe it. Only the fear of a trap prevented him from spreading the news of Potter’s death. Nothing could better demoralise the wizarding world than the loss of its hero and hope…

Snape himself was becoming more and more pessimistic. As arrogant as Potter was, he had this vision of wanting to try to save the world that made him almost credible in the role of Champion of the Light. And now, because of this untalented and uninteresting brat, the wizarding world was on the verge of collapse…

The cat was for the moment the only living being of his acquaintance that was not shaken by the whole affair, and who still considered him a perfectly respectable and interesting person. Snape was very grateful to the cat for this.

After a week had passed, Snape had to admit that the animal had decided to set up house in the laboratory, and not just for a temporary visit.

He looked at the cat who seemed lost in the contemplation of his gestures.

"So, Cat? Do you like it here?"

The cat blinked.

“Then I suppose I have no say in it. Or, perhaps, just one thing. If you must stay here, we will have to find you a more fitting name than ‘Cat’. ”

The cat looked up again at the familiar word.

Snape thought, “Hmm’ Cat’ seems to suit you…. Catsbie, Caton? No, ridiculous. It should be something more appropriate for a laboratory cat.”

He pondered for a moment.

“What would you say to Shadow ? ”

The cat inclined its head and blinked.

“Shadow it is, then.”

Severus returned to his potions. He had rarely felt so ridiculous in all his life, speaking to a cat and giving it a name. But, the animal had managed to soften him. He could blame the tension of the last few weeks, the hopelessness of the situation, the hostility or the general antipathy towards him; the result was the same. He had developed an affection for this black cat who did not behave like a cat and who had Potter-like mannerisms.

People might think whatever they wanted, he had every intention of keeping the cat for as long as it wanted to remain.

It seemed to Snape that the cat wanted to prove that it deserved the status of Potions Cat. Snape had dozed off in its presence several times or had forgotten it when leaving hastily, but the animal had never again got into mischief. It sat or lay quietly where there was no risk of breaking or disturbing anything and did nothing to draw attention to itself.

It was altogether strange, mused Snape, more than a week after he had recovered Shadow. He had never heard the cat meow, neither to ask to go out or come in, nor for food. It contented itself with sitting by its bowl or by the door, waiting almost apologetically to be noticed.

In many ways, it didn’t behave like its fellow cats. For example, it did not seem very keen on the idea of cleaning itself. Snape had seen it try to give its fur a lick or two several times, before coughing and spitting in disgust, which never failed to make Snape smile in spite of himself.

One day during a downpour, when the cat sat by the door, the Potions master wondered what was going through its head. He climbed up and opened the door, watching the animal as he did so. He saw it run into the rain towards the outfall of a gutter and jump happily under the falling water, with the satisfaction of someone showering after a trying day.

Snape had never claimed to understand animals, but his jaw dropped nonetheless. After a few minutes spent soaking itself under the water, the cat had seemed satisfied and rejoined the Potions master, who had stayed to watch the cat in the rain, not able to keep from observing the spectacle.

“Shadow ! Are you sure you didn’t forget your soap? Are you the only one not aware that cats are supposed to hate water and wash themselves? What are you doing outside? "

The cat looked at him with its head cocked to one side, as it always did when it listened attentively to the Potions master.

The man sighed.

“I suppose I'm going to have to carry you downstairs, soaked through like that? Very clever, actually, worthy of your double, Mr Potter!”

The cat hung its head a bit more. He didn’t like that name.

The man took the cat in his arms. Shadow climbed the stairs alone, but always seemed to fear going down, so Snape had got into the habit of carrying it. At first, the cat held itself stiffly in his arms until it was put down again, but after a while was able to relax and now seemed to appreciate being carried.

Once on the ground again, the cat ran to the hearth to warm up again. The fire was low and the cat almost had to scorch its fur in its efforts to get dry.

Snape hesitated. All the evidence suggested that the cat had no intention of licking itself. He shook his head and took{del sp} a clean towel from his wardrobe. Sitting in the armchair, he caught hold of the cat and settled it on his knees, wrapping it in the towel.

Shadow stayed still. What was happening? He felt like a prisoner, as hands started rubbing his fur with a type of blanket… He relaxed a bit. It was the Man In Black, who never hurt him and it wasn’t so unpleasant really…. Not unpleasant at all, in fact!

The cat melted into the towel and closed its eyes.

Snape smiled in spite of himself. Shadow didn’t seem to be used to being touched, much less rubbed, but from his expression it seemed there was no objection. Snape massaged the cat’s head gently, so as not to hurt it. The cuts had closed up, but they'd been deep enough to still hurt… though not at the moment, judging by the cat’s blissful demeanor .

Something was missing, though. Yes, Snape realized, a normal cat would've purred. This one purred no more than it meowed.

Something told him that this animal had had little reason to purr in its lifetime.

Snape was not a demonstrative person, neither with people nor animals, and he appreciated the fact that the cat was not of the sort to stick close to him all the time, begging for pets. Still, he would have preferred that the animal not startle at the slightest sudden movement or tense when he reached out to touch it..

A sudden pain in his forearm made him jump. The Dark Lord was calling him. He felt suddenly guilty. He was busy looking after a cat while a war was on the horizon. Thank Merlin, all his potions were ready. He looked at the cat who was almost asleep on the towel. He lifted it carefully and put it on the armchair. He hoped the cat would stay there so he wouldn't be in danger of stepping on it when he returned.

Throwing a fistful of powder into the fireplace, the spy reluctantly enunciated the name of Malfoy Manor and disappeared.

The cat opened an eye. Where was Man In Black ? Why had he stopped the massage? The cat didn’t like it when the man left. He always came back nervous and out of sorts. He would've truly liked to have been able to do something for him. The cat was sorry he couldn't understand what was wrong. The Man In Black didn’t talk much and the cat didn’t always understand everything. The words made sense individually, but put together, they were often a bit confusing.

But there was one he understood very well : Shadow! This was the name the man called him and he liked it very much. It made him feel as though he belonged a bit in this place and with this man, as though he had officially offered him his protection.

Only the Man in Black called him this , of that he was sure. His own Man in Black, the one who fed him fish, who let him stay close by , where he was safe, and who carried him down the stairs. . His front leg still hurt when he had to go down the stairs, but over time, he'd mostly learnt to like being in the arms of the Man who held him firmly so he didn't fall. .

Yes, his name was Shadow. He was under the protection of the Man In Black, and he intended to do his best to protect the man as well. He'd known instinctively that he shouldn't disturb him when he was working with his vials. He had this look of concentration, brow furrowed, face hard, a look Shadow feared deep inside.

So when the Potions master turned to look at him him, he tried to put as much trust and calm into his eyes as he could ,and he saw the man relax a little, just because of the look they shared.

That made Shadow feel satisfied, even happy.

Truth be told, even if his memories before his arrival at the manor were vague; he could not recall having been so happy, so at peace.

The only thing that he still had to do was to help the Man In Black.

When the man came back through the fireplace, Shadow jumped off the armchair. He wasn’t at all certain that he was allowed to be there.

The man shot him a troubled glance before collapsing in the armchair. The cat watched him breathing rapidly, his body tense and trembling slightly. The Potions master often returned tired and on edge, but never to this extent.

Shadow hesitated. With eyes closed, sprawled in his armchair, the man didn’t seem to be able to catch his breath. Gathering its courage, the cat jumped delicately onto the arm of the chair and stretched out against the man’s shoulder, trying with all its might to give him its calmness and warmth.

Snape jumped and looked to see what was moving against his arm. Shadow. Shadow, who looked up at him with his big green eyes full of worry. .

He tried to breathe more deeply, focusing his attention on the cat pressed against him, on the calm it radiated and on the eyes which resembled Lily’s more than ever.

A few minutes later, he felt his body relax and the pain dissipate little by little. He was familiar with the Cruciatus, but rarely before had he been subjected to it for so long. Things were deteriorating, little by little,at the Order of the Phoenix as well as at Malfoy Manor.

Slowly, he succeeded in regaining control of his muscles. Grateful, he lifted a hand and scratched the cat's head. Shadow seemed as surprised as he was by the gesture, but did not shy away. For an instant, they looked at each other, an exchange of gratitude and affection.

When Snape felt himself sink into a healing sleep, he heard what he had believed to be impossible.

Shadow was purring. .

After two weeks on a diet of fish and potions, the cat appeared less terribly thin, though its ribs were still prominent. The potions seemed to be working perfectly, contrary to what Snape had feared, and the cat seemed to be adapting well to its new life. It no longer tensed as much when Snape wanted to touch it, and the lost, fearful and resigned look had become more peaceful and serene.

Snape had finally decided to transfigure a chair into an armchair identical to his own and had put the cat’s jumper there. This stopped him from crushing the animal each time he used the fireplace, which was becoming more and more frequent as Potter’s absence dragged on.

He was surprised to feel himself impatient to return home , no longer just for the tranquility of the dungeon, but for the silent presence of the cat. For the little flash of relief in its eyes when he returned, for its warmth against his shoulder when he relaxed in the armchair, and especially for Shadow’s calm and trusting gaze.

Strangely, he had never felt so close to a living being since…. He shook his head. He didn’t want to think about that, not tonight.

He got up and walked toward the door.

“I’m going to bed. Don’t get into mischief. Goodnight, Shadow.”

The cat blinked and jumped onto its armchair.

Shadow.

He liked his name and the sound of the Man’s voice when he said it. He liked their routine, the bowls of fish, the fire, the naps on the arm of the chair next to the Man In Black.

Of course, the man was nervous and tired, more so each time he returned. But that was Outside; here they were safe, and Shadow truly liked that he could comfort the man.

Tonight, he had left by the door to the corridor, so he would not be gone long and he would not be wounded when he returned. Perfect.

Everything was perfect, thought the cat. The black cloud which had been weighing on him was far away. For the first time, he thought that perhaps this respite might last. That the black shadow would never return.

He fell asleep, curled in a ball, with an almost human smile on his face.

When, some hours later, Severus Snape opened the door to his laboratory and looked for the cat, he could only stand, frozen in place, his mouth hanging open.

In the armchair where Shadow normally slept was an adolescent, huddled up and sound asleep.

Not just any adolescent… The messy black hair, the glasses, the scar… It could only be….

“Potter!” he shouted, in a voice more threatening than he would've liked..

The boy woke up with a start, frightened. His green eyes met those of the man, and as Snape watched, he transformed into a cat, the same black cat that had become so familiar to him, who had chosen to stay with him since the day of Potter's disappearance...

Shadow.

Harry Potter.