“Professor?”

‘Professor’ was not a synonym for ‘equal measures’, and Severus tapped the end of his quill against his leg and frowned. Granted that research papers generally weren’t the most stimulating of reading material, but unlike a few of his colleagues who wrote as though their audience was made up of particularly dense first years, he preferred his papers to have at least a modicum of literary merit.

“Professor?”

His frown deepened, and then he realized abruptly that he wasn’t the one who had spoken. He looked up to find Harry standing in the doorway of the spare room, shifting awkwardly in the pajamas that Severus had shrunken for him. “Harry? I thought you had gone to bed.” He hadn’t heard anything from the boy since he had retreated to the spare room, and that had been at least an hour or two ago.

“I couldn’t sleep. Can I…?” He gestured at the couch.

“I suppose.”

Harry pulled a book off his bookshelf—one of the defense books that he hadn’t already borrowed, from the look of it—but although he made a pretense of reading, it was fairly obvious that the words weren’t holding his attention.

“Is there anything that you would like to talk about? Something on your mind?” Severus finally asked, after several unsuccessful attempts to return to his work. As soon as he asked, he cursed himself for the awkwardness in his words—Harry had just learned that there was a madman’s soul fragment embedded in him, what did he think the boy was thinking about? The Easter holidays?

Harry just shook his head in the negative, reaching out to put the book on the side table before rolling to face the back of the couch.

“Are you certain?” Severus pressed, putting his own work aside.

“Are there books?” Harry asked, his voice slightly muffled.

“What?”

“Are there books? On Horcruxes. Hermione couldn’t find any, but there must be some somewhere.”

“There are,” Severus confirmed after a moment.

“Can I read them?”

“Well, I hardly keep them lying about in my quarters.” Obscure books with theoretical descriptions of Occlumency techniques that generally forced him to resort to hard liquor three pages in, yes; obscure books with unfortunately much less theoretical descriptions of how to rip one’s soul to pieces while going insane at the same time, no.

“But you know where they are.” It wasn’t a question, and Severus didn’t bother to respond until Harry’s shoulders twitched and he repeated, “Can I read them?”

Severus sighed. “I suppose that that would be…acceptable.” He didn’t actually like the idea, but it was better that the boy learned more about them in a supervised setting rather than using his technique of running about at random and hoping that he learned something useful while nearly getting himself killed in the process. As though anyone on staff actually believes that Miss Granger decided to attempt Polyjuice Potion on her own in her second year—I’m still curious what Harry and the young Mr. Weasley were up to while she was making her way to the infirmary. He shook his head. It wouldn’t hurt to review the books on Horcruxes again himself, and it would be as simple to move them to his library as to Albus’. Madam Pince would complain, but she was going to complain either way.

He tapped his fingers against his leg lightly. Actually, moving them to his library rather than Albus’ would give him a bit longer before he had to admit what he’d done to the Headmaster, which wouldn’t necessarily be a bad thing. “I can get the books; however, I must insist that you read them here.” The last thing he needed was the bloody things turning up in the Gryffindor common room. And not just because Minerva would have my hide.

Harry shifted again.

“You do realize that this conversation might be simpler if your face wasn’t buried in the couch cushion, correct?”

Harry muttered something, and Severus decided after a moment that it was probably just as well that he hadn’t understood the words. Silence fell for a minute, and then he offered, “I will collect them tomorrow. You may come down and read them at any point after that.” He frowned, and then amended, “At any point when I am here, you are permitted to be out of your House, and you are not in classes or detention.” There was no point in giving the boy any sort of leeway to be wandering about at midnight after all. Although I suppose lack of permission has never stopped him before.

“Can I bring Hermione and Ron with me?”

Severus instinctively opened his mouth to object and then shut it again. Realistically, it was probably pointless to expect the boy to keep his knowledge of being a Horcrux to himself. Granted that he had done a disturbingly decent job of keeping his home life private—precisely the sort of thing that he should have told about, although Severus had to admit that he’d never told either—but that was hardly the same thing as having a soul fragment embedded in oneself. And we are talking about the same child who actually cheered for me in a duel, as though I needed twenty-years of hard work building my reputation as a particularly fearsome professor ruined by that sort of nonsense. It was one thing when the students in his house did the cheering, but a Gryffindor?

In truth, he had less of a problem with Granger than with the Weasley boy; she might be obnoxious, but she was also undeniably intelligent. The boy, on the other hand, more than occasionally spoke without—or in lieu of—thinking. Still, Harry presumably knew them better than he did. And perhaps it would not be a bad thing if someone, or a few someones, more adept at dealing with emotions knew what Harry was going through. I suppose they can hardly be less adept, all things considered, even if they are only his age.

He frowned. Unfortunately, if he acceded to Harry’s request to have his little friends accompany him, it would negate any advantage bringing the books into his rooms rather than Albus’ would give. He knew that Minerva found more than a little amusement in his and Harry’s…relationship…but he doubted that she would believe that it had extended to include the rest of the trio, which meant that he’d almost certainly have to inform her and the headmaster or risk them figuring it out on their own. And even an idiot could see that that wouldn’t end well for him.

He sighed. “You may invite them to read through the information as well, but no discussion of Horcruxes is to occur outside of these rooms, is that understood? And that includes the initial explanation.” Should any sort of explosion occur—the Weasley boy’s behavior during the Triwizard Tournament came to mind—at least he would be on hand to deal with it.

“Yes, Professor.”

“Should, in the future, you wish to inform anyone beyond your two shadows, I strongly advise discretion. And I will require advance notice.” The last thing he needed was half of the students from Gryffindor lounging in his sitting room, and hopefully he would be able to steer Harry away from any particularly bad choices. Offhand, he suspected that the Weasley girl might be told as well, and potentially Longbottom, Lovegood, and the Weasley twins. Basically the coterie that had accompanied Harry to the Department of Mysteries. Which, to be fair, even Severus didn’t believe would betray Harry, although the thought of any of the last four in his private rooms made him shudder slightly. Unfortunately, as he had already given his agreement…. At least Longbottom will probably be too frightened to come down; that will reduce any damage they might cause by at least half. And I will inform the Weasley twins that if they even consider working any magic in my quarters, I will feed them to the first of Hagrid’s pets that I come across and their mother’s over-protectiveness be damned.

“Thanks,” Harry said quietly, finally rolling back over to face Severus and picking up the book he’d borrowed.

Severus frowned for a moment. “Are you certain that there is nothing else you would like to talk about?” That came out approximately as stilted and awkward as he had expected, but at least it wasn’t a great deal worse.

Harry shook his head but didn’t look up from his book. “Not right now.”

Severus’ frown deepened, but he could see no way to force the issue, so he leaned down to retrieve his article. A synonym for ‘equal measures’….

Something rustled, and Severus blinked and tried to sit up, only to have his neck and back scream in protest. What in Merlin’s—? There was something in his eye, and as he reached up to rub it he realized abruptly that he was already sitting up. He’d apparently fallen asleep in his chair in the sitting room. The noise that had awakened him had come from the boy lying on his couch. He blinked again and got to his feet, the muscles in his neck and back continuing to protest. I am getting far too old for this.

Apparently at some point after Harry had gone back to his book and Severus back to his article, they had both fallen asleep. At which point Severus had dropped his partially-written article to the floor, where it had been liberally splashed by the inkwell that had followed it down, ruining a good portion of the writing he’d done. And this is why sensible wizards do their writing at desks.

Harry’s thrashing became more violent, and Severus nudged the now-empty inkwell aside with his foot and moved towards the boy, leaning down to shake his shoulder. “Harry, wake up.” Harry pulled back, muttering a protest, and Severus shook him again, harder this time. And then prudently shifted backwards slightly, remembering the boy’s reaction to being awoken from a nightmare when they were in the Amazon. “Harry!”

The boy bolted upright, his glasses falling to the floor. “Pr’fessor?”

“Yes.” He retrieved Harry’s glasses automatically.

Harry took a couple deep breaths, fingers knotted around one of the cushions, and then he released it reluctantly in order to accept them. “Thanks.” He shook his head, keeping his eyes focused on the floor even as he fit them back onto his face. “Sorry.”

Severus waved off the apology, although as the boy had yet to lift his head he wasn’t sure that the gesture was seen. “Are you all right?”

“I…yeah. I’m fine.”

That was approximately as convincing as most of Sybil’s predictions, and Severus frowned. “Was that a normal nightmare, or…?” He very much hoped that the Dark Lord hadn’t chosen this night, of all nights, to connect to the boy’s mind.

“It was just a nightmare. I really am sorry; I didn’t mean to wake you up.” He finally looked up, and Severus once again waved his hand to dismiss the matter.

“It’s just as well you did, I suppose.” As stiff as he was from sleeping on that chair for only a few hours, he didn’t care to think how he’d feel after a full night. “But as we both have classes tomorrow, I suggest that we get to our beds.”

Harry shook his head. “I’d rather sit out here and read, Professor. I don’t think I’ll sleep again tonight.”

“I don’t recall asking what you would prefer.” Severus gestured sharply, summoning a bottle of Dreamless Sleep from his personal stores. He should have offered it earlier, given what they’d been discussing, but it simply hadn’t occurred to him. “I don’t suggest taking this on a regular basis, but tonight I think it would be a wise idea.”

Harry took it, checking the label. “Thanks, Professor. This’ll help.”

Severus patted his shoulder awkwardly, waiting until he’d taken a dose and retired to the spare room before stretching his shoulders and then going to his own room. It was just after two; he could still get in a reasonable amount of sleep.

* * * * *

Severus pushed himself up from the staff table as soon as was possible—certainly sooner than was politely possible—turning to make his way back to the Potions classroom. He’d originally planned to skip lunch since in dealing with Harry last night he’d completely forgotten to cube the frog livers, and he certainly couldn’t entrust the task to the little idiots in his third year classes who were going to need them, but unfortunately Poppy had arrived just before the meal with a request for more pepper-up potion. He’d known better than to tell her to her face that he was skipping a meal.

At least he’d had a chance to confirm that Harry was at the meal and had eaten at least a little—it had occurred to him at breakfast that as he was currently the only one who knew about the shock the boy had just received, it would have to be him that ensured that he didn’t do anything unusually stupid while he was processing the information. Although I suppose teenage boys are rarely given to starving themselves, regardless of what sort of news they’ve just become privy to.

He’d caught the two youngest Weasleys and the Granger girl giving Harry the occasional worried look during both meals, but as none of them had even glanced in his direction, it seemed that Harry hadn’t yet seen fit to pass on an invitation to Severus’ quarters to hear any sort of explanation. That was probably just as well; he would do better to settle his own nerves before attempting to explain things to his friends. And Severus still needed to find an appropriate time to mention his conversation with Harry to Albus.

He crossed behind the rest of the staff members on his way out of the hall, pausing automatically at the “—everus” that emanated from between Minerva and Poppy’s bent heads. Minerva hissed sharply immediately afterwards, cutting off whatever was being said, and twisted to meet his eye for a fraction of a second before turning back around and beginning an eloquent soliloquy on the state of the potato salad.

He paused, staring at the two women’s backs for a moment. What in Merlin’s name…? If he wasn’t completely mistaken, there had been a decidedly guilty edge to that glance. Now, what could she be up to? Especially with Poppy’s assistance? It certainly wouldn’t have had anything to do with his early departure from the meal; she knew him more than well enough to be accustomed to his behavior. He shook his head firmly and then turned to continue towards the dungeons. Whatever it was, he had enough to worry about at the moment without adding in the machinations of an occasionally overly nosey feline. Frankly, he should just count himself fortunate that Poppy’s request for bruise salve hadn’t been accompanied by yet another mind healer. He frowned. Although—. His frown deepened enough to send two students who were decidedly late for lunch scurrying out of his way as he made his way down the staircase.

What could the two of them be planning? If it was Poppy who was behind their plotting…well, she wouldn’t be involved in dealing with the diadem, which ruled out the Chamber of Secrets, and given Minerva’s glance in his direction—and the fact that very few words ended in ‘everus’—…. Oh, bloody hell. Could Poppy be gathering new mindhealer candidates from members of the staff? Merlin knew that he’d done what he could to alienate the ones she had brought thus far, and Minerva probably had several acquaintances among the medical community from both the war with Grindlewald and the Dark Lord’s first rise. If Poppy was going about asking for recommendations….

He shook his head absently, entering the potions classroom and pulling the jar of livers off the shelf before waving a sharp knife over. Except that that didn’t seem right. Even if most of the staff probably had an idea of what Poppy was attempting to do to—or, in her mind, for—him, and most likely a fair idea of her reasoning as well given the incident during he and Alastor’s duel, he couldn’t see her giving any sort of verbal confirmation of their suspicions. She wasn’t the sort to violate a patient’s confidentiality in that manner, at least not without good reason. I wonder if rebuffing all of the idiots she suggested is a good enough reason, given how annoyed she was getting. He didn’t think so, though, and he had a very hard time believing that she wouldn’t have given him some sort of last warning. And even then, it would be a ‘cooperate or I’ll go to the headmaster’ sort of thing, not ‘cooperate or I’ll interview the rest of the staff’. Still, unless he was very much mistaken, he was in some way the topic of Minerva and Poppy’s conversation.

Minerva isn’t idiotic enough to attempt to set me up on a blind date, or anything of that sort; there’s no way that either of them can know what I discussed with Harry last night....

He angled the handle of the knife into his clamp. It was awkward—the clamp was shorter than his arm had been, and when he needed to grip something while cutting he had to either hold the knife in his right and bend awkwardly to use his clamp to pin it down, or hold the item in his right hand and use only the tip of the knife to cut—and he wondered if it would be possible to get different length rods for different purposes. Certainly something to be examined in the future.

He shook his head again and returned to his previous line of thought. Realistically, short of hexing the two women into oblivion—tempting, but it would be next to impossible to avoid being caught, and it would be a shame to end up in Azkaban now—he probably couldn’t stop whatever they were planning. Which, given the lack of other possibilities, he suspected revolved around his unwillingness to speak to one of the mindhealers Poppy had introduced him to. And if Poppy put her mind to it, she probably could find some way around that little patient confidentiality issue. Discussing it all in hypothetical terms springs immediately to mind, although that would only work with a subset of the professors on staff. Of whom Minerva is one. Damn. Well, at least it was unlikely that anyone Minerva suggested would be the sort who’d be better off doing auditions for the London stage…and with any luck, they’d be able to interpret the subtle hint of ‘go away’.

The third years arrived just as he finished cubing the livers and he glared them into their seats. “As I doubt any of you have actually bothered to read you assignment for today, we’re going to do a short review before we begin brewing. Mr. Tanner, perhaps you can list the three parts of the pufferfish that are most commonly used in potions?”

“Uh….”

“Today, if you please? Given that you’ve been working with all three ingredients for two years now, I wouldn’t think that this is a difficult question.” Students were wonderful tension relievers.

* * * * *

“A Horcrux?!” Molly Weasley demanded, and most of those attending the Order meeting flinched at the volume.

Severus gripped his forehead and made a mental note to invent a selective hearing spell in which anything that woman said came out several octaves—and several decibels—below its actual level. Mrs. Black’s portrait screeched something obscene from the hall in response to Molly’s shriek, but as there was a muffling spell on her, it wasn’t as unpleasant as Molly’s shout had been.

Molly didn’t appear to hear the portrait at all as she continued to glare at the headmaster, her face as red as her hair. “You’re telling me that one of my children could have been exposed to a Horcrux? Again?!”

“Now, Molly, I’m sure—” Arthur’s voice didn’t sound like much more than a whisper after the shriek his wife had given.

“Constant vigilance!” Alastor barked, banging his hands on the table.

And that’s certain to help matters. It was a wonder that the Order hadn’t self-destructed on its own merits, given a few of the witches and wizards that Albus had recruited. Severus kept his mouth shut, on the grounds that if he opened it he was almost guaranteed to say something that would result in both Molly and Alastor hexing him.

“I assure you, Molly, we had no idea when we decided to use this place as the Headquarters,” Albus said, his voice even. “And there may be nothing here—after all, Regulus didn’t precisely leave Voldemort’s service on good terms. It’s entirely possible that even if Voldemort did give him one of the Horcruxes to hold, it was removed from the premises after his death.”

Molly didn’t look at all appeased, but Albus shifted slightly so it was obvious that he was addressing the rest of the Order present as well. “Now, as you all know, Voldemort’s diary was destroyed three years ago. I’ve located a ring as well, as a few of you already know, although it will take at least two people to retrieve it, and it seems that Severus and Minerva may have found a third Horcurx, Rowena Ravenclaw’s diadem, in the Chamber of Secrets.”

Severus ignored the sharp looks aimed in his direction by several different members of the order—including both Weasley adults, neither of whom seemed happy about the mention of the Chamber of Secrets. Well, returning to the Chamber had been Minerva’s idea; she could bloody well be the one to defend it.

“According to Malfoy’s letter,” Albus continued before anyone could ask any questions, “Nagini is another Horcrux, but obviously we don’t have access to her at the moment. What we may be able to find are the last two items—Slytherin’s locket and Hufflepuff’s cup.”

“How sure are we about those?” Vance, a witch Severus knew very little about, except by reputation, asked. “I mean, our source is Lucius Malfoy?”

“Given the manner in which I received the letter, I’m inclined to believe that it is genuine,” Severus offered. Alastor started to open his mouth, and he glared. “Yes, Alastor, we know. Constant vigilance. I’ll make certain that I cancel the banner-carriers that I hired to fly over London tomorrow.” There was a muffled snicker from Tonks that diverted Alastor’s attention momentarily, and Severus took the opportunity to continue. “Whether Malfoy is correct about these items being Horcruxes I have no idea, but he intended the letter to be a form of protection—insurance, if you will—for his family. Their safety is something that he would never jeopardize.”

That seemed to at least moderately satisfy most of the Order—most of them understood, at least intellectually, the lengths to which the older families would go to in order to preserve their family lines, even if most of them probably had serious doubts about how much actual affection Lucius had had for his wife and son.

“If nothing else, finding the locket and the cup won’t hurt our cause,” Albus pointed out. “After all, they are important historical artifacts dating from the founding of Hogwarts.”

“We may be able to use that if anyone asks about our search,” Arthur said after a moment. “Maybe some sort of anniversary or a theme for the end of year party? Tell people that you want to display the objects for historical value?”

Albus nodded. “That’s a good notion; I’ll see what I can set up.”

“I apologize—a person’s cup?” Nazarov asked. “And I apologize again if I am asking you to repeat something that rest of you already know, but what diary?”

“I can explain about the diary after the meeting,” Minerva offered. “But the cup we’re looking for belonged to one of the Founders of Hogwarts—Helga Hufflepuff—and was a sort of focus object.”

“What does it actually look like?” Molly asked, her voice none-too-steady.

“From the sketch I found in the library, it was gold, two handled, four to five inches tall, and engraved with the image of a badger.”

Molly shook her head, looking a little relieved. “No, there’s nothing like that here. We found pieces of probably a dozen different table settings, but it was all china or silver. Well, there was a gold plate, but I think it was some sort of Quidditch commemorative. I put it all back in the kitchen cupboards after we washed it, of course, if you want to check.”

Albus shook his head. “No, no, your memory is excellent; I’m sure if you’d seen anything like Hufflepuff’s cup you’d remember it. But what about Slytherin’s locket? It’s gold as well and would have had a snake on the front, in the shape of an ‘S’.”

She frowned and then paled slightly. “There was a great deal of jewelry, most of it gold, in trunks in the attic, and then we found a few more pieces scattered about while they were cleaning. Most of it was pretty heavily inlaid with stones, but there was one piece in one of the upstairs bedrooms….” She shook her head. “I’m not sure if it was a locket or a pendant—that horrible elf appeared out of nowhere right after I found it and started shouting at me that I was stealing the family’s heirlooms. He wouldn’t let me get a moment’s peace, so I told Sirius to take the whole lot to the Black vault. Bill, do you think you could—”

The eldest Weasley boy shook his head quickly. “Sorry, Mum, but there’s no way I’ll be able to access the Black vault unless Sirius or a designated representative of his—one whom he’s given a copy of his key to, as well as a couple dozen signed forms—is with me.”

Severus wondered idly if the mutt would have given a copy of his key to Harry, and then decided that he was probably far too dense to have had such foresight. And even if he wasn’t, there was no need to involve Harry in this.

“Kreacher,” Albus called, and the sullen house elf appeared a moment later.

“What does the nasty blood traitor want?” He sneered at the rest of the Order. “All the nasty blood traitors, all together. Kill you all.”

“Did Regulus ever hide anything here?” Albus asked, ignoring his words. “A locket, maybe? With a snake on the front?”

“You aren’t the master.” Kreacher made a disgusted sound. “Master is a worthless traitor, too, not worth the name Black.” He sneered and disappeared.

Albus shook his head. “Well, Sirius and Remus should return shortly after Easter, so we’ll be able to visit the vault soon anyway. Until then, we should probably assume that it isn’t there and begin a search for both it and Hufflepuff’s cup.”

“I’ve an interview with Rabastan Lestrange at Azkaban tomorrow,” Shacklebolt offered. “I’ll see if I can get anything out of him then.”

“What about Malfoy?” Tonks suggested. “I mean, he did give Professor Snape the letter.”

“Lucius Malfoy may have written the letter, but Narcissa Malfoy gave it to me,” Severus corrected. He drummed his fingers against his leg lightly. Although he did have another letter to deliver to Lucius, so perhaps an unannounced visit in the near future….

He shook his head as the meeting dissolved into squabbles in approximately the same way that Order meetings usually did. But at least the important business had already been covered and they now had people out looking for the locket and cup. And Nagini. On the off chance that someone might accomplish something.

Most of the Order members left fairly quickly after the meeting; they had jobs and lives of their own and couldn’t afford to be absent for too long lest questions be raised. Molly and Arthur both gravitated towards the Headmaster, whether to ask more about the potential effects of Horcruxes on their children or with questions about the Chamber of Secrets Severus neither knew nor cared. Although he made a mental note to be certain that he was unavailable if Albus ever decided to inform them that Harry was a Horcrux.

Minerva and Mr. Nazarov were making their way towards one of the empty corners, presumably so she could explain the incident with Riddle’s diary and the Chamber, and Severus raised an eyebrow when he realized that she had one hand tucked in the crook of his arm.

What in Merlin’s name…? Nazarov held out a chair at one of the small tables for her, and Severus’ eyebrow rose a bit further. The man could, of course, simply be being a gentleman—he should be being a gentleman—but something in the way they bent their heads together…. He shook his head and looked away. To his knowledge, Minerva hadn’t been involved in any kind of relationship in all the years he’d been teaching at Hogwarts—he’d heard rumors just after he’d started about some sort of tragedy in her past, but she’d never offered any information and he certainly hadn’t come out and asked. And while Nazarov had mentioned family in his initial interview, he’d said nothing about a wife and wore no ring. Hm. I wonder. He shook his head again and refrained from looking in their direction a second time. Either way, it wasn’t his business, and he’d prefer to keep his nose where it was.

The clock on the wall chimed, and he frowned and pushed himself to his feet. Harry and his shadows had been in detention with Filch the past several evenings, but Severus expected them to be visiting his quarters fairly soon. It would almost be a relief when they did—he’d been keeping an eye on Harry at meals, and their concerned looks had been becoming more and more noticeable, to the point where he was wondering why their Head of House hadn’t started demanding answers. And since he hadn’t yet found a good time to inform her—or Albus—that he’d told Harry about being a Horcrux….

Well, as both of them are otherwise occupied, I probably shouldn’t interrupt. Tomorrow will serve just as well. He pulled his portkey out of his pocket. Although Albus was fairly certain that they’d managed to remove all the tracking spells on the floo at Hogwarts, none of them wanted to take the chance of compromising the Order headquarters, so for the time being they all had personal portkeys. It took him back to Albus’ study, which was a perfectly logical location for a teacher to be, and he was turning for the door when a stinging hex caught him between the shoulders.