Harry returned to the hotel he'd been staying at with Ginny, as per Severus's suggestion the night before. He'd never formally checked out, so he had no trouble returning to the suite. When he entered the room, he couldn't help a sudden sharp feeling of deja vu in the pit of his stomach. If he closed his eyes, he could see Ginny, her belly softly rounded beneath her soft lavender maternity top and white pants, her red hair cascading over her shoulders, sleeping peacefully on the bed. . . until the intruder broke in and snatched her away.

Once again he carefully searched the bedroom and the adjoining bathroom for any clues her attacker might have left. Nothing. There wasn't even an aura for his trace spell to pick up, save for his own. Apparently, Ginny had no time to use her wand before the kidnapper had gotten to her. He fought against slamming a fist through a wall, instead forcing himself to sit down on the couch in the sitting room portion and take several deep calming breaths.

Severus had been right, he was letting his emotions run haywire. He had to be able to think rationally otherwise he could endanger their mission. Haste is the enemy of a good Auror, Potter, he recalled Moody saying once during his training. Patience had never been his strong suit, he admitted silently. He had always been one to rush in impulsively, relying more on his extraordinary luck than any planning to get the job done. Not this time though. This time he'd be careful, for this wasn't about killing a megalomaniacal warlock, this was his precious wife and children.

For you, Ginny, and for them, I'd do anything. Anything. His hands clenched into involuntary fists. He stared down at them, then forced himself to open them. Breathe, Harry. Calm. In and out. Again. One, two, three, four, five, six. He counted breaths the way Snape had instructed him to do, shoving all the inconvenient emotions of worry and fear and anger into a box in his mind and locking it. The box would stay locked until he opened it and it was s afe for him to allow those emotions free reign again.

As he did so, he recalled the song Severus had hummed to him last night. He didn't recognize the tune, but it repeated itself over and over in his head, soothing the raw patches in his psyche. He closed his eyes, allowing himself to be drawn back to four years ago, to the day of Dumbledore's funeral.

He'd been an emotional wreck then too, filled with guilt that he couldn't prevent the old wizard's death, missing his mentor horribly, yet unable to bear the comfort of any of his friends. He'd run from them, ending up in the Headmaster's office, ironically, curled up beside Dumbledore's chair beneath Fawkes empty perch, weeping into his hands, feeling as if his whole world had come crashing down around his ears.

Slayer of Voldemort, Slayer of Voldemort, chanted a nasty voice in the back of his head. You're a hero twice now, but even that couldn't save Dumbledore. What good then is all your power over life and death if it couldn't save the one you loved best?

He'd had a wild idea then, involving the Resurrection Stone and a timeturner, using the timeturner to travel back in time and prevent Dumbledore from breaking the ring, or failing that using the Resurrection Stone to bring the ancient wizard back from the dead. He remembered getting to his feet and rummaging through the desk drawers frantically. The timeturner was here, he'd seen Dumbledore put it in a drawer before they'd set out to find the Horcruxes.

His fingers closed on it, drawing it forth from the drawer. It revolved slowly on its chain, the small hourglass glittering with magic sand as it spun gently about. Then he'd summoned the Resurrection Stone to him with a softly spoken Accio.

The milky white pebble appeared in his hand a moment later and he prepared to use the timeturner.

But before he could do so the door opened and Severus came into the office. "What are you doing in my office, Mr. Potter?" he demanded sharply.

Harry jerked around so fast he nearly dropped the timeturner. He'd forgotten that Snape was Headmaster and this office was his now. "I'm going back and saving him," Harry answered curtly.

Severus merely raised an eyebrow, noting the boy's tear-stained face and the desperate gleam in his eyes. "You can't do that, Harry," he began quietly, moving towards him slowly. "Albus went to his death willingly, you can't bring him back from it. Now give me the timeturner. That's Ministry property, you know."

"Like I give a damn!" Harry snarled. "Back off, and let me do what I should have done before." He began to twirl the timeturner about.

Severus snapped a word and the timeturner was yanked out of Harry's hands and sailed across the room into Snape's outstretched hand. "I don't think so, mister. You aren't allowed to use a timeturner unless you've been approved by the Ministry and you haven't. Besides, what do you think you could have done by going back there? Did you think you could convince Albus not to destroy the ring Horcrux? He wouldn't have listened to you, he never did when his mind was set on something."

"I could have tried, I've got the Resurrection Stone," Harry cried, brandishing the stone wildly. "It could have brought him back."

"Back to what? A half-life, where he was bound to you?" Snape demanded angrily. "Is that what you want, Potter? A body without a soul, a puppet under your command?"

"No! I just want him here, the way he was before." He gestured angrily at the chair. "He ought to be there, reading the paper and eating lemon drops, not. . .not lying in a tomb with my cloak over him all cold and still. He didn't need to sacrifice himself for me, damn it! Too many people already have. My parents, Sirius, and now him . . ." Tears were spilling unnoticed down his face. "What good is magic then, if I can't use it to save him? Tell me, Snape!"

Severus sighed, tucking the timeturner in his pocket. "All things in their proper place and time, Harry. Even magic must follow those rules. Albus knew that, he knew the cost before he did what he had to do. He chose his death, do you understand? You've got to accept that, Harry. Else why he died is meaningless."

"But I never asked for him to!"

"You would never have to," Severus said quietly. "Just as I never did, yet he helped me all those years ago. This was how he wanted it. Now don't let it be for nothing, boy, but honor his choice."

"Like you're doing?" he'd sneered. "Guess you couldn't wait to come up here and take over, huh, Headmaster Snape?"

Severus's eyes narrowed. "Mind that tone of yours, Mr. Potter. I'm still your teacher and you're my student, and you will address me respectfully. I took this position because it was the last thing Albus asked of me, I never sought it out. But I made a promise to a dying friend and I will keep it, no matter my personal feelings. Just as you should keep any promise you made to him, Harry James Potter."

Harry flinched away from Severus's gaze. "I can't . . .don't you understand . . .he wants me to be happy . . .after he's dead! How can I?" he shouted, his voice raw with grief. He turned away from his Headmaster, his shoulders shaking, fighting the terrible grief that threatened to overwhelm him.

Behind him, he heard Snape mutter angrily, "Bloody hell, Albus, you old fool. You meant well, but couldn't you have asked something easier from him, especially now?"

"Don't you dare talk like that about him!" Harry snapped, spinning around to glare at Snape. "He was a better man than you'll ever be."

"Probably, but he was still a man, Potter, not a paragon. He made mistakes just like the rest of us," Severus said bluntly. "One of them being to place the fate of the world on the shoulders of a bloody sixteen-year-old and then die telling him to be happy. What he should have done was tell you that you could find happiness once you've allowed yourself to grieve. Because you're never going to be happy unless you accept that he's never coming back and that you've the right to be upset over it."

"What do you know about it? You're probably glad he's gone!"

"You're wrong. I trusted that man with more than my life, and I miss him more than you'll ever know. He was the father I wished I had. But he's dead and you have to let him go."

"No!"

"Yes," Severus said implacably. Then he took two steps forward and put his hands on the young wizard's shoulders and shook him briskly. "Albus is gone and no magic on this earth will bring him back. Not even the Deathly Hallows. Now quit fighting the inevitable, Potter, and just accept it!"

Something in the boy broke then and all of a sudden he was crying, sobbing loudly, shaking with the force of his grief like a leaf in a windstorm. Severus's grip shifted, from punishing to gentle as he drew the younger man into an embrace. Harry buried his face in the Defense Master's black velvet robe and wailed, too consumed with grief to care if he was crying on Snape's shoulder.

Severus bit his lip hard, then lifted the boy in his arms and walked across the room to the Headmaster's chair and sat down. His own emotional control was none too good and several tears were falling down his cheeks as well. He cradled Harry against his shoulder, saying nothing, allowing the boy's grief to spend itself.

Harry blinked and tried to move away from the other man's arms, but Snape held him firmly. "W-what are you doing?"

"Something someone should have done a long time ago," Severus murmured, and pushed the kid's head back down. Then he began to rub Harry's back in featherlight touches. "Cry then, child. It's all right. No one will know except me and I won't tell. Grieve for Albus and then let him go."

And Harry obeyed, sobbing his heart out on the velvet covered shoulder, an ocean of tears until he was spent and his breath was coming in soft pants. And Severus said nothing, simply continued to pat his back until Harry was calm.

"We won't discuss this again, Mr. Potter," was all he said once Harry had regained control over himself and he had set him on his feet.

"No, sir," Harry had replied, then dared to look at the other man's face. But there was no condemnation in Snape's dark eyes, only understanding and a sheen of tears. Harry quickly looked away. "I'll be going now, sir. I can keep my promise now."

He left the office, feeling marginally better, wishing he could forget what had occurred. Forget anything had ever happened at all.

Blinking, Harry shot up from his chair. Merlin's Beard! That day . . .Snape. . .how could I forget that? But I did. If I'd remembered . . .I never would've acted the way I did yesterday. He shook his head in disgust. How could I forget? No, why did I forget? Was it because I couldn't cope with the fact that my once hated professor was now playing the role Dumbledore once had? Or was it because I was ashamed of my own weakness? It was probably a combination of both things, he thought. He had sup pressed those memories because he wasn't ready to face them. But now he had come to the realization that it was no longer necessary. His grief that day was nothing to be ashamed of. Severus was an ally, not his enemy, had never been his enemy. And they must work together to defeat the Shifter and rescue his beloved wife.

He rose stiffly from the recliner and peered out the window. The sun was now a dazzling ball in the sky, outlining the chrome buildings of the city in rainbowed coronas. Something fluttered on the windowpane.

Harry went to investigate. He discovered another parchment stuck to the window, the same kind and size as the first. His heart quickened in his chest and he slowly opened the window and retrieved the note.

The second note, which, if the Shifter followed his pattern, would contain the ransom demand.

Fingers trembling, Harry unfolded the parchment.

Potter,
 

read and follow this exactly. You only get one chance.

If you ever want to see your Ginny again

you will deliver to me the following:

1000 Galleons and the resurrection stone.

Leave them in Central Park beside the statue of

the man on a horse.

Fail and this will be all you have to remember

her by.
 

The Shifter

A lock of auburn hair fell out of the crease in the parchment and landed on the carpet.

Harry knelt and picked it up. God. Oh God. Ginny, please be all right. Please don't make him hurt you. He clutched the hair to his chest and re-read the parchment again.

The demands the kidnapper made were beyond ludicrous. He had the money, but the Resurrection Stone was something he could never give up, it was far too dangerous to let fall into the wrong hands. In the Shifter's it could cause great sorrow and Harry had sworn an oath to Albus long ago that he would protect the stone from unscrupulous dark wizards seeking eternal life.

Yet if he didn't give up the stone, Ginny would die.

The Shifter knew him well. Too well.

He felt a cold shiver ripple down his backbone.

Abruptly, he stood, took out his wand, and performed a tracing charm.

But the spell fizzled and died, unable to get a fix on the writer of the letter. Like the last one, the parchment was untraceable.

Harry swore furiously. Then he carefully folded the parchment and tucked it in his jeans pocket. He would show it to Severus, and perhaps together he and the Director could come up with a plan to trap their wily adversary.

Then he went down to the front desk and checked out, for he wouldn't be returning here to collect any more notes.

Now he would bring the hunt to the Shifter.