It did not have a name. It didn't have a home or family. And most importantly, it did not have a mind of its own. It had a mission, a /purpose/; and that was the driving force behind its every thought, every action, and every breath. Without its mission, it was nothing. Mindless. A thing of flesh and life, but more dead than a corpse years rotting beneath the earth. It was simply a /thing/, for it had no name for itself and nor had its master given it one. It wasn't worth such a privilege; and it didn't care. It existed for the mission; and there was simply nothing more to say about it.

It moved silently through the forest, which it knew had a name and a death toll, but nothing approached it. Nothing would dare. It stunk of dark magic and blood...of things left in the dark and never meant to see the light of the sun, never to be seen by another living thing. No, even the foulest of the forest's children ran quickly from its sight, or its stench, whichever they had been unlucky enough to detect. The creature didn't care; it wasted no thought on the creatures that ran from its path. The castle. The castle was its goal. Yes....

The creature slid quietly into the shade of an old oak tree, wrapping its small body around the base of the tree trunk. It squirmed for a moment, tossing up leaves with its claws to hide itself from prying eyes. Straight ahead, past the cottage and the vast green lawn lay the castle Hogwarts. Rising high above the surrounding forest, the flaring shades of evening light beyond it cast deep shadows across its face. The creature settled itself again, attaining a less straining position. It would have to wait till nightfall...it could not be seen until it had completed the mission. Staring fixedly at the castle, it narrowed its amber eyes, lips pulled back from misshapen teeth in a proud snarl. Tonight then....tonight it would fulfill its purpose.

The past three days had been hell. If Snape had been horrid during the school year, he was even worse now. The man spent most of his time off in the corner of the room, scribbling on scrolls and experimenting with new potions. He rarely spoke, and when he did, it was curt, rude, and directly to the point. Harry did his best to keep out of his way, and only spoke when it was absolutely necessary. Snape had already blown up at him twice, once when Harry had neglected to mention he'd gone to visit Hagrid, and the second time when he'd been perusing the tomes lining Snape's massive bookshelf. Harry had reasoned that it had probably contained some of Snape's infamous 'dark magic.'

Harry was lonely. To be truthful, he'd never felt so alone in his life. He'd thought he'd be happy here....with Dumbledore and Hagrid, and indeed it was better than the Dursley's, but it wasn't at all what he'd envisioned. For some reason, Dumbledore and Hagrid were both busy most of the time, with Hagrid making constant rounds of the forest, and Dumbledore dashing to and fro. The castle was huge and empty...and Harry missed his friends. Ron and Hermione meant more to him than anything in the world; they were his family. They cared about him, he /mattered/ to them; and he would have given his life for them in an instant. Harry remembered the many days and nights he'd spent locked in the darkness of his cupboard, tracing shapes in the dark air and daydreaming. His fondest dream had always been of his parents, laughing with them and feeling their arms wrapped tightly around him. It was a dream he still had occasionally, though now it usually had Ron and Hermione standing at his side, with Dumbledore and Hagrid standing in the background like some quirky grandfather and lovable uncle. Dumbledore had once told him that his deepest desire was to know his parents, but he'd been wrong. Harry's deepest wish wasn't just to know his parents, it was to be loved. To be loved like Mr. and Mrs. Weasley loved their house full of red-haired children, like Hagrid took to every beast that wandered into his path. He wanted something every child should have, whether muggle or wizard. He wanted a........

"POTTER!" the sharp voice shattered his thoughts like a fist through a windowpane. Harry leapt to his feet, turning to face the dark and brooding source of the sound.

"Yes, sir?" he asked, unaware that he had done anything wrong. Snape was glaring at him impatiently, his arms crossed and his head tilted slightly back. Thankfully he didn't seem to be overly angry, merely put off about something or another.

"Why are you still here? Go DO something....go /play/ or whatever it is you children find amusing." Snape commanded, thrusting one spindly finger toward the door.

"But Professor Sn..." Harry began to protest, but Snape interrupted before he got out another word.

"No excuses. Your presence is disturbing me. There are plenty of other windows in the castle if you insist on being idle." Snape said, crossing his arms once again. Harry nodded dumbly and sauntered toward the door, pausing only to snatch his broomstick from the corner. Perhaps a ride wouldn't be so bad after all....

I understand that you are concerned for Harry, but I can assure you that

he is perfectly safe, and not with the Dursleys. I apologize if you've had any trouble reaching him by owl post, I believe the Dursleys destroyed anything that may have arrived there during his short stay. He's here at Hogwarts if you need to reach him, I'm sure he'd be happy to hear from you.

If you would, please forward this letter to Ron Weasley when you're through, I'm sure he'd like to hear about Harry as well.

Albus Dumbledore

P.S.-- I do so hope that you're enjoying that book I lent you.

Hermione read through the letter a second time before allowing the parchment to roll up once again. She settled back in her chair and watched the owl that sat on a nearby table, lapping from a saucer of water she'd left for it. Though she had no reason to distrust Professor Dumbledore, and every reason /to/ trust him, she couldn't help but feel that something wasn't quite right. The letter also left far too many questions unanswered, for instance, /why/ was Harry at Hogwarts? And why hadn't he received any of their letters? Surely the Dursleys hadn't actually gotten a hold of them....

Raising her momentarily neglected quill to her lips, she immediately began to scribble out her own note on the back of the parchment, requesting that Ron try to get a hold of Harry at Hogwarts as well as asking his opinion of the whole situation. Rising from the chair a moment later, Hermione knelt on the floor next to the owl's current perch and reattached the small parchment to its leg. It looked up at her and bobbed its head, requesting instructions.

"Take this to Ron Weasley, at The Burrow, please." she said, and the owl hooted once, and then flew off toward the open window and into the deepening evening.

Snape paused on the doormat that read, 'Home Sweet Home,' and knocked violently on the door, then turned around and tapped his foot impatiently. He'd get this over with, then he could resume the /important/ task of monitoring his potions. Thankfully the Potter brat was already in bed, and hopefully had the sense to stay there. The door creaked open a moment later, and Hagrid's looming figure and light smile loomed in the doorframe.

"Professor! Come in, come in! I've got some tea on the table, if yer interested." Hagrid said, stepping aside. Snape turned slightly, replying with an annoyed glare before stepping through the doorway and standing firmly next to the fireplace, blatantly ignoring to proffered tea.

"I'd like to do this quickly, if you don't mind. What is this thing you're supposed to show me?" Severus said, and Hagrid paused in his task of tea pouring. The Gamekeeper's face seemed to transform instantly, switching from its usual, jovial expression to its grim counterpart.

"Alright then, straight to business." Hagrid said, then retrieved an old potato sack from the corner of the room. "This is what I was supps'd to show yeh." he said, and emptied the contents onto the floor at Snape's feet with a soft 'thump.' The Potions Master's eyes widened momentarily as he stared down at the corpse. It was a baby deer, split from neck to tail in one, clean cut. "Been findin' dozens of dead critters out in the woods, all killed jus' like that. I told Dumbledore 'bout it, I suppose he thought yah might know somethin', what with your history an all." Hagrid said, stumbling over the reference to Snape's past, for it earned a harsh glare.

"I saw something like this in the 'Daily Prophet,' it appears to be happening in a few other places as well." Severus replied, crouching down to get a closer look at the animal.

"It's got no blood innit, none on the ground where I found 'im either. Right mystery, that." Hagrid mumbled. Snape was still knelt next to the creature, one hand held to his chin in contemplation. He couldn't remember ever hearing of anything of the sort, either from his experience with dark magic or during the more..../questionable/ years of his life. It was totally new, and highly unusual. It was true there were many potions and some complex spells that made use of animal blood in dark magic, but not of such a large scale. Also, nearly all of the spells required the creature either remain alive after the usually small amount of blood was taken, or that the creature was ritually slain with its throat having been slashed. This filled neither requirement.

"I'm sorry to say I've never run across anything of this nature before......I've heard of remotely similar incidents, but never anything of this nature. Highly unusual......obviously done by human hands, as well...." Snape mumbled partially to Hagrid, and partially to himself.

"There weren't any footprints nearby, an' Fang couldn't catch a scent of the murderer either. Somethin' abnormal's behin' it." Hagrid said, now seated at his table and lightly stirring his tea. "Sure you don' want some tea?" he asked, his voice hopeful. Snape stood up slowly, still studying the creature at his feet. Tea did sound rather good at the moment....he supposed his potions could wait a few moments at least.

"Very well, just one lump if you please." Snape said, and took the chair opposite Hagrid as one sugar cube was dropped lightly into his cup. "Thank you." he muttered, taking the cup and stirring it lightly. Neither spoke for a moment, Hagrid fidgeting uncomfortably and Snape lost in thought. The silence stretched on for several minutes, interrupted only once by a loud yawn from Fang, who lay sleeping by the hearth. After scratching the back of his head nervously, Hagrid cleared his throat and did his best to start a conversation.

"So, Professor.......how're, eh, you an' Harry gettin' along?" Hagrid said, suddenly interested in stirring his tea once again. Snape's eyes snapped up from the tabletop to stare coldly at Hagrid, one corner of his mouth curling in anger.

"Fine." Snape growled, his dark eyes flashing. Hagrid knew very well that to continue the subject would be risking pain of injury, to his eardrums at the very least, but it was a topic he very much wanted to discuss. Harry hadn't been his usual self at all when he'd visited the day before; he'd been depressed and lonely, and very angry. From what Hagrid had heard, Harry and Snape weren't getting along at all, and they most certainly weren't 'fine.' To be honest, Hagrid couldn't figure out why Dumbledore had left him with Snape in the first place. But, since he had, Hagrid was going to do his best to make things better for his young friend, even if it meant risking Snape's wrath.

"Harry's a good kid, Professor. He's had a rough lot....." Hagrid began, but Snape interrupted with a loud, sharp laugh.

"Oh, a hard lot indeed! A few monsters and instant fame, oh the /horror/ of it all!" Snape roared, throwing his arms toward the ceiling and then placing his palms firmly on the tabletop. "Spare me the 'poor Potter,' pity fest Hagrid, I might become ill." he said, and then slumped back in his chair, arms crossed tightly. Hagrid furrowed his brows and stared back, leaning toward Snape across the table. His expression was one he rarely displayed, it was anger.

"Now you listen to me, Professor..." Hagrid rumbled, his eyes dark and expression fierce. Snape looked up, his face lined with surprise. Hagrid continued, locking the Professor's gaze with his own, "Harry's a good kid, I've never met a grand'r soul than his. He's had a rough life from the day he was born, and I wager he's got a hell of a life ahead o' him yet. And you want ta know what the most amazing thing about him is?" Hagrid paused, but Snape stayed silent, still watching him with mild surprise, "He's turned out good without anybody ta guide him. The Dursleys sure din't bother ta tell 'im right from wrong, he learned that all on 'is own." Hagrid leaned back in his chair, crossing his own massive arms defiantly. When he continued, his voice was lower, almost sadder in its tone, "He din't have nobody till he came ta Hogwarts, an now he's alone again an' feelin' it more 'en ever, Professor."

Hagrid continued to stare at Snape like a fierce dog waiting for its prey to move. Snape did his best to glare back, but for perhaps the first time in history......he looked away. His dark eyes sparkled with a bitter anger, coupled with a fresh hatred for the man that had /dared/ to argue with him. But he didn't argue, there was no point in making a fool of himself attempting to rescue his fallen pride. Hagrid had spoken the truth, and he'd spoken it with a passion Snape had never expected from the soft- spoken giant. Normally Snape didn't care if something was the truth or not, especially where Potter was concerned. Any other night and he probably would have argued far into the morning hours, but tonight the truth had been unusually sharp. Tonight it had struck a chord that Snape preferred not to be struck again. Rising slowly from his chair Snape cast Hagrid a fierce, slit-eyed glare.

"Rubbish," he growled, and then whirled toward the door, "You're a fool Hagrid, a /worthless/ excuse for a man." he hissed, and then stalked out the door, slamming it fiercely behind him. He didn't look back as he sped quickly across the lawn, his hands clenched tightly into white- knuckled fists at his sides. The heavy wooden doors into the castle flew open at his touch, slamming hard against the rough stone behind them. Snape could still hear the sound reverberating off the walls as he turned down the first flight of stairs, his cloak whipping violently behind him like a dark testament to his mood. He didn't pause till he reached the top of the very last flight of stairs, leading down into a dungeon hallway. Gripping the mahogany railing tightly in one pale and shaking hand, he sat down on one of the steps, leaning back against the cold stone wall. He drew up one knee and rested an elbow on it, reaching up with a hand to smooth wild hair from his face and grip a handful of it tightly.

Potter. It was always /Potter/. Now just the same as then, the precious Gryffindor was held high in the spotlight. Oh, everything was always /so/ much worse when it happened to /him/. Yes, indeed! Snape thought sourly. He fisted the hand in his hair, gritting his teeth in restrained fury. No. He would /not/ dwell on it, he would not waste his time on things that could not be fixed or changed. Forcing himself to take several deep breaths, he opened his tightly shut eyes and stared at the stone step beneath him. The night drew onward, the moon rising yet higher in the sky as he sat alone on the stairwell, staring blankly into the darkness.

Harry almost didn't hear the door creak open, or the soft click of it being shut once again. The room was nearly pitch black, with only the twin slivers of moonlight escaping through the windows on either side of the fireplace, in one of which Harry sat partially blocking the light. The only sound was the soft rustling of cloth as someone crossed the room, stopping only once they'd neared the fireplace.

"Potter....?" the voice said, its tone unusually quiet, lacking the usual knife-like edge that lay hidden beneath each word. Harry turned slightly, allowing one leg to fall from the window ledge. Professor Snape stood there, his face only partially highlighted by the moonshine. His black eyes shone differently with the small amount of light, the swirling fire that always burnt in their depths reduced to mere embers.

"Professor Snape?" Harry asked, his voice tinged with a hint of worry. Surely something was wrong, if the Professor was acting in such a fashion....

"Couldn't sleep?" Snape asked softly, then turned toward one of the chairs facing the fireplace and sat down, hidden in the darkness. Harry closed his mouth on the question that had been forming in his throat and stared at the patch of darkness that was Snape. Turning back toward the window, Harry sighed, and replied after a moment.

"I tried, but I gave up and came back out here." Harry said, his eyes fixed on the grove of trees. The silence stretched on for another moment, and Harry followed the path of a night owl over the distant trees, swooping and dipping in the intensifying wind.

"Potter...." the voice sliced through the darkness, slightly sharper than the speaker intended, Harry turned back around again. Snape cleared his throat and continued, obviously having a hard time with the words, "I apologize for kicking you out, earlier. I was out of line." Snape said, his voice once again calm and controlled. Harry stared into the darkness in disbelief, then fidgeted lightly on the window sill.

"That's alright, Professor. I'm used to it." Harry replied, smiling slightly. Snape said nothing after that, and for a long time they sat in silence, staring into the quiet night. After a while, Harry had to stifle a yawn and rose from the window ledge. Harry heard Snape turn slightly in his chair, watching him.

"Goodnight, Professor." Harry said, slipping off toward the doorway to his room.

"Goodnight, Potter." was the reply from the shadows, and the door to the small bedroom swung silently shut.

Two fierce amber eyes split the darkness like lanterns, casting a vague glow upon the scaly flesh surrounding them. The creature crawled silently along the floor, claws clicking occasionally on the stone like metal on a window pane. It slipped through a wooden door like a phantom, scuttling along the floor until it detected its quarry nearby. Yesss....soon its mission would be completed. It drew up on its hind legs, wrapping long claws around the edge of the wooden structure before it. Its eyes were level with its quarry, and lantern eyes narrowed at the sight. There, just ahead....snuggled warmly beneath a layer of blankets and tightly clutching the pillow beneath its head. The creature smiled, flicking out a long tongue to run across the row of jagged teeth lining its jaw. The mission. It was time to complete the mission.......