Harry sat up at once, trying to blink away the groggy feeling. He had an idea that he was late for some place. It was only when he was halfway to the door that he realized the wailing had nothing to do with him and feeling much more awake he tried to think what it could mean. If this were a Muggle building it could have been a fire alarm, but somehow he didn't think it was. Beginning to feel anxious, he looked about for Snape but didn't see him. Suddenly, the door burst open, narrowly missing him, and Snape dashed in. He looked about, then down towards Harry.

“Go through the fireplace,” he ordered, his voice as stern and forbidding as Harry had ever heard it, “Wait there and do not leave until I come to get you.” Harry nodded, knowing this was not the moment to argue, but hesitated when he turned towards the small fireplace and saw a strange blue fire blazing in it. Snape didn't give him a chance to hesitate long, shoving him forward into the flame.

It didn't burn, but acted just as though someone had thrown down a pinch of floo powder and shouted an address. Harry found himself tumbling out of a much larger fireplace into a very strange room. Harry stumbled a bit and fell back into his panther shape. He only managed a quick glance about the room before a familiar form was bounding up to him, also as a panther and sending off waves of distress. A house elf stood at her side, wringing his hands anxiously. Other than the three of them, the room was empty. At least the annoying wailing hadn't followed them into the room.

'Little brother Harry,' the other panther cried, somehow managing Neffy's youthful tone though mind speak tended to smooth away accents. As Snape had explained it, during one of the many times he had attempted to teach it to Harry, the mind interpreted what the person meant into words the receiver, or listener, best understood. Neffy could have been speaking the words in Chinese and Harry would still hear English. Now that he was feeling calmer, and having a million questions, Harry changed back into boy form. Neffy copied him, and Harry took a moment to look around and collect his bearings.

The room was large and round and had no doors or windows, but most all the wall was covered in large fireplaces, all with blue flame that gave off no heat or smoke burning fiercely. Above the fireplaces, where one might normally see chimneys, were row upon row of cabinets rising right up to the curved dome ceiling. About the room were beds and cushions, and at the centre on the floor was a large pool.

“Where are we?” Harry asked, “What is going on?”

“It's the safe room, where they send the wounded and children,” Neffy answered, her voice excited and anxious and indignant all at once. “Whenever the alarms go off, all the fire places change to open here. But only we can get through, if someone who wasn't known by the manor tried it, they'd go to one of the cells.” At Harry's expression, she hastened to say, “Not horrible cells, you know, just small rooms with a bed and toilet and no way out. They're all warded.”

“But why did the alarms go off?” Harry demanded, “Where is everyone else?”

“I don't know,” Neffy answered, “My dad ordered me through the fireplace as soon as it started.”

“Snape did the same to me,” Harry answered, worrying a bit at his lip. It was times like this that he most felt the real difference between being a seventeen year old human and a seventeen year old sphinx. As a human, he was certain he wouldn't feel as though he were about to cry. He hated the feeling. He could stand being shorter if only he didn't also feel so young. The house elf, who had obviously come to watch them, started to set up a table for tea. Harry was glad he didn't seem inclined to the hysterics Dobby always displayed. In fact, from the little he had seen of the house elves in the kitchen, they seemed down right reserved compared to those of Hogwarts.

“Why do you call him 'Snape'?” Neffy asked suddenly, confusion evident in her voice. Harry turned towards her, blinking slightly. He didn't really want to think about Snape at the moment. If he thought about Snape, he had to think about what he was doing right at that moment. What if he was fighting some horrible dog creature? What if the death eaters had come for him? It made him feel anxious and ill and like he was going to burst into tears at any moment. He wished he had gone with him, like the old Harry would have. The Harry who leapt into battle, defending everyone. Which in turn made him think of Sirius. Only now it was all tied up with Snape, and he kept imagining him falling through a veil, and somehow Harry knew it was his fault again, and all the sphinx would know and not want him any more, and he would be sent back to the Dursleys and shoved in the cupboard under the stairs like when he was four the first time. Suddenly, Harry found it very hard to breathe.

“Hysenos?” Neffy said, and the house elf pulled him by the elbow over to the table and sat him down, one hand stroking his hair and the other pushing a vial towards his lips. Harry accepted it without even noticing he did so, so caught up as he was in his visions of death and guilt and fear. But as soon as he drank it, his painful gasps relaxed and his eyes began to grow heavy.

“There, there, musos,” the elf crooned gently, “All will be well. Your phiter will be back soon.”

“He's right, hysenos, Sev will be all right,” Neffy agreed, sitting at his other side worriedly, “Now, wouldn't you like some tea?” Harry looked up at her, feeling sleepy and embarrassed now that he was no longer quite so worked up. He tried to pull himself together and remind himself that he was seventeen, no matter what that meant for a sphinx. Cautiously, he took a bite of a biscuit.

“What do you think I should call Snape?” he asked suddenly, after the three of them has sat in silence for a bit. The house elf also had a place at the table and Harry directed his question as much towards him as towards Neffy.

“We all call him Sev, or Severus if we call him by his name,” Neffy answered, then frowned, saying, “Well, except for Udro. I've never heard him be less than formal. It's always Professor Snape or Master Snape.”

“Master?” Harry asked, giggling slightly at the idea of calling Snape 'Master'.

“Well, he is a potions master, isn't he?” Neffy asked, but she giggled too, perhaps just a bit too giddily. Harry began to wonder what the house elf had put in the tea.

“You might call him Phiter,” the house elf said, in his high pitched warbling voice, “or Pher for short. Or perhaps you are waiting on the ceremony first.”

“What do those words mean?” Harry asked. The house elf looked slightly surprised that Harry didn't know.

“The simplest translation is 'father',” Neffy answered for the elf. Harry blinked, and found himself blushing without quite knowing why.

“Simplest indeed,” the house elf declared with a sniff, “It has naught to do with blood, though the two usually go together. It is the title of one who claims a paternal responsibility for another. There shall be a ceremony under the next new moon, just before you leave.”

“All the pride is meant to be there,” Neffy exclaimed excitedly, “And you will officially be part of our clan!” Harry nodded his head nervously. Snape had never mentioned any of this. Suppose he didn't really want to be Harry's Phiter? And did Harry want him to be even if he did? The anxious feeling in his stomach returned, and Harry thought he might want it, even if his seventeen mind didn't think he should. It didn't help that they still didn't know what was going on with the alarm. Suppose Snape was killed? Suppose he was dying right at that instant? Suddenly, Harry was quite certain that he wanted Snape to be his phiter more than anything in the world, if only he would come back.

“What is your name?” he asked the elf abruptly; besides really wanting to know, he wanted to change the subject and get his thoughts off of Snape.

“Eberik Silklinen,” the elf answered, hopping out of his chair to give a little bow. Harry nodded his head back uncertainly. The more he knew of this elf, the more he felt he was nothing like the house elves at Hogwarts. He wanted to ask if the elves here were all free and if they got pay and holidays, but he felt it might be rude to ask. He would ask Snape when they were alone.

“Do you know what the alarm was,” Harry asked. The elf gave a small nod.

“That one was to wail the approach of one with canine blood,” he answered, and both children reached for each other without meaning to.

“You mean the nubis'wi?” Neffy asked, her eyes wide with sudden terror.

“Not necessarily,” the elf Eberik answered, wringing his hands nervously again, “It could have simply been a pack of wild dogs running by our front gate.”

“If that were all, they'd be back by now!” Harry cried, and his hand moved involuntarily towards his bandaged shoulder. Wild dogs seemed quite bad enough. Eberik looked hesitant, but still he stood and strode towards the pond in the middle of the room.

“We can see, if you want,” he told them, “The water has been charmed to see out with.”

“Why didn't you say so before?” Neffy exclaimed, bounding forward eagerly, “Waiting to know what is happening has to be worse than seeing it!” Harry had a sudden memory of standing in a tent while the roar of a dragon came from without. He tried to imagine doing that same stunt now, with this body, and shuddered slightly. He walked forward slowly to stand next to Neffy and Eberik. The elf reached forward and touched a finger to the pool. A moment later the water rippled, and an image appeared on its surface.

At first, all they could see were clan members. Basta, looking quite fierce, prowled about a wall that looked mostly gold but was green and red and diamond white in places. Then the image pulled away, showing that it wasn't a wall but an enormous door set within an even larger stone wall. It was a creation of beauty with the image of a crystal tree overlaying the gold, shadowed in green and red, but no one was looking at the gate, more intent on knowing what the disturbance was. Basta, at least, appeared unharmed. Udro stood at her side, looking pale but somehow strong all the same. Helen stood next to him, looking fiercer than Basta and Udro combined. They didn't see Snape or Neffy's parents anywhere.

“There's Mum!” Neffy exclaimed suddenly, and they saw Shura prowling high up above everyone on the wall, next to one of the men. Harry felt he should recognize him, but it was harder when it was only an image. If he could only smell or feel him, he was sure he'd know his name.

“Can we look somewhere else?” Harry asked Eberik, “I want to see...to see ph...to see Sev.” The elf nodded, and the imaged dissolved, opening again on a small stone room. At its centre was a ring of wood, rather like the dining room table but much thinner. In the centre of that stood a man. But Harry wasn't really looking at him, more intent on his new family. He saw Roo at once, an intent look on his face, and Jag; much to Neffy's relief upon seeing her father unharmed. There were others, too, but Harry stopped looking once he found the man he really wanted to see. Snape, or Severus, or however he should think of him, looked unharmed, if a bit cross. He had that sneer on his face that Harry found familiar, and he was glad that it wasn't directed towards him.

“They have a prisoner,” Neffy remarked, “Do you think he's a nubis'wi? He must be, he set off all the alarms!” She clutched at Harry anxiously, making him feel nervous himself. Then he turned his head to really look at the man in the centre of the ring and his eyes widened in recognition.

“He isn't a nubis'wi, he's a werewolf!” Harry exclaimed. Neffy looked at him as though to say that was quite as bad, if not the same thing in different words, but Harry didn't care. He knew, now, that none of them were in any danger. In the centre of the ring was Remus Lupin.