“Come in,” Harry heard a dark voice say on the other side of the door.

Harry, with Grib close behind, pushed open the door and stepped into a medium sized office, bookshelves covering most of the walls, a fireplace on the right and a door beside it. There was also a sofa near the wall that framed the entrance door, though it wasn’t completely against the wall or in the middle of the room.

There was a large desk with two armchairs facing it, and behind the desk was Snape, who had been looking over some parchment but was now facing Harry, his black eyes cold.

“Potter,” he acknowledged, raising an eyebrow. “What brings you to my office?”

Harry glared. Clearly the man was playing games with him, trying his best to taunt him without actually having to taunt him. Grib wouldn’t lie when he said Snape had wanted him to go up there. Harry wouldn’t let Snape get to him.

“Well, Grib said you wanted me to come up here after lunch, sir,” he said. Snape’s eyes became malicious and his lip curled, though for once, his anger wasn’t directed at Harry.

“And when, Potter, did Grib inform you of this,” he asked quietly.

“A little while ago, after I’d finished-”

“A little while ago?” Snape was glaring at Grib now, the same glares Harry had received from the moment he first arrived at Hogwarts.

“Yes Master, yesterday you said ‘tell Potter to come to my office after he is finished eating lunch’,” Grib squeaked.

“And you didn’t,” Snape said icily.

“But Master Harry didn’t eat lunch yesterday, but he did today and that’s when Grib told him.” Snape glared at Grib for while longer before he began glaring at Harry, who‘s hands were becoming sweaty. Now Snape knew he didn’t eat lunch yesterday and he hoped the man wouldn’t ask if he bothered to eat anything at all, because he didn’t other than the chocolate frogs. If only Grib didn’t take things so literal, he thought, like with the pumpkin juice and now this.

Snape stood from his desk and went over to one of his bookshelves and retrieved a wide, long box.

“Come here, Potter.”

Hesitantly, Harry walked over to where Snape was now opening the box, revealing several different wands that were all crammed inside and Snape angrily turned to Grib.

“Give the wand to me” he growled and Grib looked down at his feet, but shakily, his hand reached into a small side pocket and pulled out a short beige wand and as Snape reached for it, Grib pulled back.

“But it’s the Mistresses wand,” he cried. Snape paid no attention and snatched it out of his hand, muttering something about an ‘imprudent house elf’ as he threw that wand with the rest of them.

“Whose wands are these,” Harry asked nervously, but Snape ignored his question.

“The Headmaster feels it’s best that you are able to use a wand while you are here, but not your own.” Snape walked back to his desk and opened a side drawer. He pulled out a wand and gave it to Harry, finding that it was his. He didn’t know he had it.

“You had my wand?” He asked as he examined it, making sure it wasn’t damaged in any way.

“Indeed. Did you believe it was still in your back pocket as it had been when you… Ah, were hospitalized?” Harry’s ears became hot, but he didn’t look up at the man. Hospitalized.

“I thought it was in my trunk with the rest of my things,” he said, putting his wand in his pocket, pretending what he said didn’t hurt.

“I see. So if The Dark Lord was to raid this house and find you, you expected that he would let you go digging through your trunk to find your wand before he would attempt to kill you.” Harry angrily looked up, though he didn’t say anything.

“I thought so,” Snape snidely told him as he walked back and picked up the box with the wands.

“As I said before, Potter, the Headmaster thinks you should be allowed to use magic, but not with your wand as it would alert the ministry that you were doing underage magic-”

“So if I just use someone else’s wand, they wont know,” Harry asked, excited. If only he had known that before. He would have swapped wands with Ron or Hermione during previous summers.

“On the contrary,” Snape continued. “You cannot simply use anyone else’s wand. Whenever a wizard is pronounced dead by a ministry official, the data on their wand is automatically erased, thus allowing any underage wizard who is in possession of the wand to use it without the ministry being aware. Many wizarding families who wish for their children to master spells before attending school let them practice on deceased relatives’ wands.”

“And these are all of your, er… deceased relatives’ wands then,” Harry asked, biting his lip. Just because he had all of these wands didn’t make them his relatives’, he thought.

“Naturally. Now are you going to loiter here in my office all day asking questions or find a wand that doesn’t destroy everything with the simplest of incantations?”

Harry picked up a wand that was on top and studied it. It was long and ebony with dark green gemstones circling the end of it.

“What should I test it on,” Harry asked, looking around the room.

“You can attempt to stun Grib,” Snape suggested cruelly as Grib flinched and Harry didn’t know if he was serious or not, then again, his teacher wasn’t one to jest.

“How about if I just levitate something,” Harry insisted and motioned to a tin trash bin on the side of his desk. Snape nodded curtly and Harry raised his wand to it.

“Wengardium Leviosa,” he muttered and the bin wiggled a bit before it fell over, the crumpled parchments seeping out. Harry stood it back up after he put the parchment back and handed Snape the wand and reached for another. It was the short beige one that Grib had had in his pocket.

“Wengardium Leviosa,” he said with his wand directed at the bin, though it didn’t do anything.

Wand after wand, Harry attempted the levitating charm on the waste basket, all of which were unsuccessful. Snape just stood there and watched, half annoyed and half amused every time a trial caused the basked to do something like fly over and hit Harry or shoot parchment at him. Snape never spoke, unless it was a ‘I think not,“ after a wand didn’t work properly. Harry ignored him the entire time, however.

Harry found that testing the wands was quite interesting. He played a game in his head, guessing what his next result would be.

In the time it took to try about fifteen wands, the bin melted, hit the roof, sparked fire on the parchment inside it, crumbled, duplicated, turned into glass, shrunk, expanded and turned to stone.

There was one incident however, that made the bin go in the direction opposite to where Harry was pointing his wand. If he moved his wand left, it would go right and vice versa.

Eventually, he finally found a wand that suited him. It was a long, brown wand that’s end was twisted, reminding him of the roots of the Whomping Willow. It levitated the bin just as his old one would and Snape suggested to use a more powerful spell on it.

“Duro,” he muttered, and the bin turned to stone, only this time it was intended. He cast Lumos, and a light surged from the tip of the wand, and Nox that made the light fade back out. After he changed the color of it, making it turn from grey to black, and blasting a small hole in it, then repaired it, Snape spoke.

“I believe that wand will suffice, Potter,” he said and put the all of the used wands back into the box and went back to looking over the parchment on his desk. “That is all.”

Harry was about to turn and leave when he put the new wand back into his pocket, but stopped.

“Sir,” he asked. “Where is Hedwig and my Firebolt?” Since he had found out Snape had had his wand, he realized two of his most valuable possessions had been missing as well. It was incredible to him how they slipped his mind.

“To avoid you from being influenced to roam around the woods, your broom is being kept safe. As for your owl, he is outside, learning his way around the grounds.”

“She,” Harry corrected, angry about his broomstick though glad he hadn’t taken his cloak.

“She?” Snape asked without looking up.

“Hedwig’s a girl,” he said. “And cant I just fly my broom around the yard?”

“No,” Snape said as he began marking one of the parchments with his quill. “I doubt the Headmaster will be pleased if you crash.”

“W-” he cut himself off. If he had finished the sentence, he would have retorted that he wasn’t that bad of a flyer, which would have been fine, he hadn’t crashed for years, only he knew that’s not what Snape had meant.

The words hung between them, though unspoken. Harry was grateful that he cut himself off before he began to argue about his flying capabilities so Snape wouldn’t have to correct himself and say what he really meant, though the idea of crashing his broom sounded good at the moment.

Harry wordlessly walked out of Snape’s office. After all, before asking about Hedwig and his broom, he had been told he could leave.

As he began walking back down to his room, he debated two things in his mind, trying to figure out which was worse:

Snape actually ridiculing him about his suicide attempt, or just knowing that Snape had the advantage over him to do so at all.

Harry shook his head as he pushed his bedroom door open; they were both equally dreadful.

Well at least he had a wand now, he thought with some cheer as he cleaned away the paint mess on his sweater using the Scouring Charm. With a wand, it would be much easier to arrange his room like the way it had originally been and to finally be able to open a few locked doors he wanted to go in to. Harry smiled, but as he looked around his room, he realized he couldn’t stay inside for much longer.

At least he knew now that Grib wouldn’t say no if he asked to go outside with him. Snape said he couldn’t have his broom or go into the woods at all, but he did say he could go outside if he or one of the house elves was with him.

“Grib,” Harry called and the house elf apparated into his room, smiling up at him.

“Yes, Master Harry?” Harry chewed his lip for a few moments before he spoke.

“Er… will you come outside with me. I cant go outside alone and-”

“Oh, Yes Master! Grib wants to go outside too! Let us go right now!” Grib began tugging on Harry’s hand a bit and Harry followed Grib out of his room all the way down to the dining room where Grib stopped at the wide glass door he hadn’t noticed before because it was covered by curtains and he assumed it had been a long window. Harry, for the first time in a long while, felt sunlight on his skin as it came through the glass as he moved a curtain aside and Harry opened the door and stepped outside onto a small deck that looked over the wide yard.

The yard was obviously neglected. It looked like it hadn’t been tended to in years maybe. The grass was growing tall and weeds sprung about everywhere. Harry found the very sight of it dismal and melancholy and almost considered going back inside.

Harry walked down the concrete steps from the deck and stepped onto the ground, but was hesitant to go any further until Grib ushered him along, tugging on his shirt.

Harry felt the sunlight on the back of his neck and relaxed a little bit. It felt good to actually feel warm again. It had been so cold in the hospital and it was so cold in his room, but it was nice and warm out here and Harry considered laying down and taking a nap right there on the ground, but had second thoughts when he saw a spider crawl over his shoe then disappear as it ran back into the grass.

Harry walked around a bit, his head looking down as the sun heated up his back. He began kicking a few stones that were conspicuous enough to see until he noticed he was standing in front of an area that didn’t have foot long grass sticking up from it, though there were some random strands of it mixed in with the sprawling weeds.

The area wasn’t made up from dirt and Harry kneeled down and found it was sand instead. Confused, he stood back up and looked around. It was then that he realized he was standing before some sort of playground graveyard.

Everything was dilapidated and decaying. He walked further into it and noticed a wooden seesaw that was molding and broken in some places. There was a small monkey bar that had collapsed further ahead from what he could see. A side of it had fallen over to the ground while the other was still standing and connected to top that was now slanted, forming a right triangle with the ground. A crow rested on one of the bars but flew away with a ‘caw’ as Harry neared it.

There was a long slide that had given out. The metal ladder was rusted and had crumbled onto the ground as the plastic slide segment lay a few feet away, covered in grime. It might have been a shade of bright yellow once, like the sun, but now it was just brown and tainted.

Several yards away stood a small double swing . The metal legs were extraordinarily still standing, though rusted just as the chains that once held onto the leather seats were, but now the seats were on the ground, weeds wrapping around them as a snake would as some strands of grass poked out from the sides of them.

Somewhere nearby, Harry sat down at a stone bench next to a jungle gym that had caved in, knowing it was strong enough to hold and wouldn’t fall apart just like everything around it had.

He looked around again. It was different seeing everything from far away, and it made him sad just looking at the sight in front of him. He wondered if children who had died young ever came to play here.

Harry rested his elbows on his knees and he looked down at his shoes. It wasn’t so warm anymore, he thought and decided it was best to just go back inside. He was about to stand when he noticed a ball a few meters away from himself. Curious, he slightly peered at it and was astounded to find that it wasn’t a Bludger or Quaffle or any other sort of wizarding sports ball, but a round, grungy, deflated, muggle football.

But why, Harry thought, would a muggle sports ball be in the yard unless….

“Grib,” Harry called and the house elf who had been picking dandelions and other kinds of weeds for some sort of bouquet not to far away walked over.

“Master Harry,” he asked as he was messing with his ‘flower’ arrangement and not looking up.

“Grib, what can you tell me about the Snape family?” Grib stopped tinkering with his flowers and finally looked up at him, though with wide-eyes and he dropped the bouquet in his hand as they parted on the floor. His lip began quivering and he fingered something in his pocket. It was the same size as the wand he had taken from Snape and it most likely was that wand.

“Th-… The Snape f-family, Master Harry?” Harry nodded and Grib clutched the hidden wand. “What does Master wish for Grib to tell him?”

“Were any of them… muggles,” he asked. It was strange saying it. He’d always thought Snape was a pureblood judging by his magical ability, but then, that was just being prejudice. A powerful wizard could come from anywhere, a muggle family just as much as a pureblooded one.

“M-Muggles? Yes, Master. Yes.” Grib shifted in his place and for the first time Harry had seen, his eyes became shadowed. Even when Snape threatened him, he didn’t look this somber. “Master Callousen was a muggle.” Master Callousen?

“Who is Callousen,” Harry asked. “Did he live here?” Harry thought Callousen had to have lived there if Grib was calling him ‘Master’. It made sense if he were muggle. It explained the muggle influence on the house which he now remembered; none of the portraits in the house moved or talked as they did in the wizarding world, the house didn’t have any magical objects, minus the lights being able to spell on and the presence of house elves. Then there was the football.

“Master Callousen w-was the owner of the house before he died.” Harry felt guilty for bringing the subject up if it seemed to upset Grib this much, but he had a right to know, didn’t he? He would never ask Snape about his history, but Grib could give him the same information without biting his head off. Harry moved over to the edge of the stone bench and patted it on the other side where there was room. Grib hopped up and sat beside him, his feet dangling as the hovered a few inches from the ground.

“Grib, do you think you can you tell me all about Master Callousen?” Grib nodded faintly looking as he looked down.

“M-Master Callousen was Master Severus’ father,” he began. So Snape was half-blooded, Harry thought.

“His name was Callousen Snape, then,” he asked. Grib nodded again, this time clutching the wand again.

“Master Callousen was married to the Mistress and was Master Severus’ father. But he was always being mean to Master Severus and the Mistress-”

“Tell me about the Mistress, Grib. Why do you keep her wand-”

“Grib is sorry, Master!” Grib pulled the wand out from his pocket and held it out so Harry could take it, but he didn’t. He didn’t know why Grib was fond of the wand, but knew what it was like to have something of sentimental value be taken away, though in Grib’s case, it wasn’t really his to keep. If the Mistress had been Snape’s mother, then it was rightfully his, though Harry felt Grib wanted it a whole lot more if Snape had just stuffed with a bunch of other wands in a box. He pushed the elf’s extended arm back and spoke.

“I wont tell Snape you have the wand,” he assured him and Grib took it in his lap and caressed it gently with his fingers. Harry thought he heard a sniffle and knew, as selfish as it was, that he wouldn’t be able to learn about Callousen or the Mistress if Grib was crying so he patted his back and waited for him to continue.

“The Mistress was Master Severus’ mother. She owned Grib,” he said shakily. “Grib was given to her from the Mistress’ own father when she was turning of age. Mistress was always nice to Grib, even when he did something bad like break or burn something of hers. The Mistress never was cruel to Grib like…”

“Like Master Callousen was?” Grib nodded. “Mistress was always being kind to Grib, just as Master Harry is.” Harry smiled, knowing he had been good to Grib and proud he could be compared to someone he cared a lot about.

Grib seemed to be at ease when he talked about the Mistress in contrast to Callousen, so Harry decided he’d let him talk about her for a while before asking questions about her husband.

“I want to hear more about the Mistress, Grib. What was her name?”

“Mistress’ given name was Alexandra, and before she became a Snape, she was a Doyle.” Alexandra Doyle, Harry thought. He never heard of her.

“Mistress’ mother had died in childbirth and Mistress was raised by her father, Donovan, but he died a few months after Mistress graduated from the Hogwarts school. Grib was there when she met Master Callousen at her fathers funeral. Master Callousen was several years older than Mistress and was saying he was a family friend and he would help her with whatever the Mistress was needing, but… Grib was hearing Master Callousen speak to his friends saying he had never met Mistress’ father, but he knew Mistress was inheriting lots and lots of money and he wanted to marry Mistress so he could take it. One of Masters’ friends saw that Grib had heard them, and Master told Grib that if he told Mistress about what he heard, he would be murdering her. Grib didn’t want that! So Grib kept it a secret and had to watch as Master courted the Mistress and when they were being m-married”.

“You told me Callousen was mean to Snape and the Mistress. How so?”

“Master was always yelling at Mistress and Master Severus. He never came out of his office where he worked all day, and ignored them all the time. Sometimes, he was threatening to kill them both, but he never hurt them because Karkus and Grib would protect the Mistress and her son. Mistress’ father had ordered we do so before he died, so we always protected her, and even Master Snape because Mistress asked.”

“When did the Mistress and Callousen die,” Harry asked, hoping the question wouldn’t make Grib start crying again.

“M-Mistress died f-first, of D-Dragon Pox when Master Severus w-was fourteen and was away at school. Master Callousen didn’t bother to tell him until he came home during the s-s-summer.”

“I’m sorry, Grib.” Harry told the elf, feeling pity for Snape. Grib nodded and continued.

“Master Callousen died when Master Severus was eighteen. He was poisoned in a muggle bar in London.”

His pity stopped. Harry didn’t want to believe the atrocious conclusion he came up with. Snape didn’t… he couldn’t have poisoned his own father, could he? No doubt he hadn’t been loyal to Dumbledore then… but even though his father, from what Grib had told him, had been anything but kind, he couldn’t have murdered him…

“Grib? Do…do you know who poisoned him?” The elf nodded.

“Eliza Doyle,” Grib told him. Harry let out a sigh. He wasn’t living with a murderer after all.

“She poisoned him because he killed her husband, Donald Doyle. Donald was Mistress’ uncle.”

Harry nodded, thinking that was enough discussion on Snape’s family history, though he knew there was still more to hear. All he had wanted to know in the first place was how the football had gotten there, and that had been explained since Callousen was muggle. He rose to his feet.

“Well, I think we’d better go inside,” Harry told Grib and the elf nodded and followed Harry into the house before pocketing the Mistress’ wand.