The next week was pretty tough for Harry. Ron still was not talking to him, and went out of his way to avoid Harry, taking seats far away from him in classes and making sure they were never alone in the same room. If they did get caught near each other, Ron would look at Harry as if he was something Ron had stepped in, and move away as quickly as possible – sometimes leaving a choice comment behind. Hermione was almost smothering in her concern for him, until Harry finally asked her to back off. She had given him a pitying look, but had toned down her lectures.

Draco kept his distance during classes, but he no longer sneered at Harry, and didn’t try to mess up his assignments. On rare occasions they were able to meet and talk, usually in the Owlery, or sometimes in a deserted classroom. In potions, Severus had used the excuse of mixing the class together to assign the boys to a bench with each other, and they appreciated it. Unfortunately, Ron could tell that the two were getting along better than normal, and it just fuelled his assumption that Harry needed to leave Gryffindor tower and go live with the snakes.

Harry was constantly fielding questions, and ignoring the rumours going around about his origins. The hardest to ignore were the Slytherins, who tried repeatedly to hex him in the corridors. Nott was the worst, although Flint – who was repeating his sixth year – came close. Harry had used his Portkey - oddly enough, a little gold key on a chain - twice already, just to escape ambushes. He was so grateful when the weekend came around and he could escape to his father’s quarters for two days. He headed there straight after potions class was over, waving off his friends.

“Harry, I don’t mind you staying here on the weekends, but you shouldn’t use me to hide from your classmates,” his father said at dinner that evening.

“I know, Severus, but this week has been so rough, I just needed some breathing room.”

“Are your dorm-mates still giving you problems?”

“Ron still is. Neville has been great, and Dean and Seamus don’t seem to care one way or another – they aren’t entirely pleased, but they aren’t hexing me over it either, unlike the Slytherins.” Harry stirred his potion into his goblet and took a sip. He didn’t feel like revealing the fact of the treated sheets three nights in a row, forcing him to sleep in the common room on the sofa. Besides, it had been dealt with – why bring it up?

Neville and Harry had finally taken care of the problem when they couldn’t stand the stench anymore: they had drunk two full litres of water each, and held it in until right before dinner break, then paid the three back. They felt it was well worth a fourth night of stench and he and Harry had ended up with the room all to themselves that night. The laughter from the twins the next morning, after spotting the three coming up the stairs in their nightclothes, was well worth it. He groaned as he heard a knock at the door and Severus went to answer it.

“By Slytherins, whom do you mean?” his father asked pointedly as he let Draco into the room. Harry gave his brother a smile as the blond sat at the table with a sigh.

“Nott, Flint, Zabini and some others,” replied Draco for his brother. “What? I assumed you were talking about the attacks on Harry here,” he said as he served himself some roasted herbed chicken and steamed vegetables.

Harry chuckled at Draco and picked up the explanation as his father served him the dinner. “Its getting to the point where it seems like I can’t go anywhere without one of them showing up and trying to either injure me or say nasty things about you and mum.” Harry pointed out.

“We did talk about this happening, son. Do I need to interfere?” Snape asked.

“No, that will only make things worse. I can handle it, for now; it’s mostly annoying.” Severus nodded in acknowledgement of his son’s feelings, but vowed to himself he would keep a closer eye on him. “Besides, Draco and I tend to share most classes together, except Herbology, and he’s been good at manipulating the others to stay away – but there’s always a random attack.”

Severus accepted this and decided to change the subject. “We need to discuss the trial next week. Poppy and I will both be there with you,” he assured when he noticed the colour draining from Harry’s face. Draco reached over and laid a hand on Harry’s arm in sympathy. He didn’t think he could face Lucius across a courtroom and testify to the man’s abuse of him. Another difference between himself and the boy he considered a brother.

“I understand. What day?” Harry said, his eyes cast down on his plate, not even seeing the food in front of him.

“It starts on Monday. You’ve already been excused from classes for the duration, but each of your teachers will be giving you make-up essays to complete while you miss the practicals. You can stay here until the trial is over, if you wish,” Severus offered. Harry nodded his thanks, but picked at his food, shoving it around his plate with his fork, never really eating.

“May I be excused? I’m not really hungry and I want to get started on my homework,” Harry asked a moment later, his eyes haunted with the remembered pain that would be brought up in a few day’s time.

“Of course. You can borrow the table here, if you wish.”

“Thanks, but I think I’ll just study at my desk. Good night, Severus, Draco.” Harry headed down the hallway to his room, his steps slow and pensive.

“Good night, son,” Severus murmured. He watched pensively as his son walked the short distance to his room, gently shutting the door behind him. He knew the news was one that Harry had dreaded. They had spoken about the prospect of this trial several times over the last month, and Snape knew that Harry was frightened over the thoughts of meeting his family in a courtroom. In a bit of Muggle-wizard cooperation, the family had been remanded to the wizarding court, as the minor involved was a wizard.

Severus cleared the table, shaking his head at the little that Harry had eaten, and settled in front of the fire with a good novel, that he had started the evening before and was about halfway through, and a glass of fine wine. Draco settled in the divan to read a Quidditch magazine, knowing Harry wouldn’t want to talk to him either. He was slowly learning his god-brother’s moods, and this was one he knew he could not penetrate. Two hours later, Severus put down the finished book, finished off his glass of wine and headed down the corridor to check on his son. He knocked on the door, and not receiving an answer, pushed it open.

“Harry…” he stopped and chuckled to himself when he noticed the boy curled up on the duvet, glasses askew, transfiguration text flipped open and a parchment full of scrawled notes next to him. Draco came up behind him and also snickered behind his hand before moving further into the room and, grabbing some nightclothes from his wardrobe, disappeared into the bathroom.

Severus placed the book and notes on the desk, took Harry’s glasses off and placed them on the nightstand then gently woke his son up so the boy could get ready for bed. Harry yawned tiredly, but stumbled into the loo to change while Severus folded back the linens. Harry was just making his way out of the bathroom when he stopped dead in his tracks.

“Did you hear that?” he asked quietly.

“Hear what?” Draco asked, coming out of the bathroom behind him.

“Someone just said something about ‘rip, tear, kill’.”

“Are you certain? Maybe you were still dreaming…” Severus pointed out.

Harry shook his head, “No, sir, I’m wide awake now. You didn’t hear it?” he asked both of them. When Severus shook his head again, Harry looked perplexed, “But it was clear as day to me.” They were all startled when they heard the whoosh of the floo in the next room and they hurried to the parlour to see who it was.

“Severus, we need you on the second floor, quickly!” called Professor McGonagall and in the next instant she was gone.

Snape turned to his sons, “Stay here boys, I’ll be back as soon as I can.” He headed for the portrait that connected to his office – it matched the one at the other end of the short corridor. The boys followed him into the main room.

“Sir, do you think this could have something to do with that voice I heard?”

“I don’t know, Harry…”

“You heard it too, young speaker?” Salazar interrupted. This stopped Severus in his track. Harry hurried up to the portrait. Draco stood at the entrance to the hallway with his arms crossed and watching the play by play like a Muggle tennis match.

“Yes, you did too?” Harry asked excitedly.

“Of course, it was in Parseltongue!” Salazar stated. “Sssthor and Sssthan could hear it, as well.”

Severus huffed at the situation. “We will discuss this when I get back, I’m needed on the second floor. Boys, I mean it – stay here!” he said sternly.

“Yes, sir,” Harry agreed. He had no intention of getting close to a snake that was talking about killing something.

Severus gave him a look meant to pin the boy in place and with a swirl of his robes was heading down the short corridor to his office to collect his travelling potions bag, and thence to the second floor.

“So, Harry, did I understand that conversation you were having with our illustrious founder correctly,” Draco drawled as he came over to sit near Harry on the divan. “You’re a Parselmouth?”

“Apparently.” Harry shrugged.

“You talk to snakes… you’re not even a Slytherin!” the blonde exploded. “Merlin’s beard, what I would give for that ability!”

“Well, that’s not quite true, you know…” Harry hedged.

“What’s not true?”

“About not being a Slytherin; the hat originally wanted to put me there.” He snuck a look at the boy next to him. “But see, I had met you then, and you had been such a prat – first in the robe store, and then on the train… well, and I knew Voldemort had been in Slytherin… so I kept saying ‘not Slytherin’ over and over until he finally put me in Gryffindor. I think it was a better fit, anyhow,” he concluded.

“Not with the way they’ve been treating you lately!” Draco retorted. Harry just shrugged and settled back into the cushions to await his father’s return.

***

An hour later, Severus returned to his rooms to find Harry curled up on one of the wing back chairs with his duvet wrapped around him, reading one of his supplementary potions texts. Draco had apparently gone back to bed.

Severus walked over and eased himself down in the other chair, as Harry straightened up to face him.

“What happened?” the boy asked.

”Well, I think I know what Lucius’ plan involved; how he is accomplishing it, is another matter entirely. When I got to the second floor, there was water all over the floor, Mrs Norris was hanging from a torch bracket by a knot in her tail and on the wall was written ‘The Chamber of Secrets has been opened. Enemies of the heir, beware.’”

“Was she dead?” Harry asked in an excited whisper, half hoping and half dreading. That cat was the bane of every student.

“No, although Filch was absolutely convinced she was dead – until Albus pointed out she was petrified. That idiot of a DADA teacher kept spouting off as to how he knew right off she wasn’t dead, and could cure her in a trice. Dumbledore pointed out, however, that only Mandrake Draught could cure her. Luckily Professor Sprout has a good crop of mandrakes growing.”

Harry agreed. “We just started studying them this week – had to re-pot some babies. ‘Enemies of the heir?’ Heir of what, and what is the Chamber of Secrets?” Harry asked, leaning forward in excitement.

“My heir,” came a reply from the other side of the room before Severus could reply.

“Yours?” Severus asked. The two Snapes looked at each other and, as one, got up to move over to the portrait, Harry dropping the duvet on the floor in his haste.

“Explain, Salazar,” Snape demanded as he crossed his arms over his chest, giving the portrait his best stare. The ancient wizard actually looked sheepish before attempting to answer.

“Before I left the school, I had created a chamber deep in the bowels of the castle where I stored many of my magical artefacts. You have to understand that many of these were quite dangerous and I did not want them to land in students’ hands, much less enemies of the school. To guard these items, I had set a dangerous creature. She was not supposed to roam the castle, only the chamber and the tunnels adjacent to it. The rumour was set about that only those of my bloodline could open the chamber. This is ridiculous, you only need to be a Parselmouth – but those are quite rare, so the chamber, I felt, was safe from intrusion.”

“Salazar,” asked Snape dangerously, “what is the creature in the chamber?” Although he felt that he probably already knew the answer.

“A Basilisk,” came the smug answer.

“Merlin’s beard!” Snape exploded. “And now it is loose?” Severus began pacing before striding over to the fireplace and throwing in some floo powder. “Albus, get down here now!” he yelled. A moment later the floo fire turned green again and Dumbledore came into the room.

“What’s the matter Severus? Hullo, Harry.” Harry gave the Headmaster a quick nod.

“Did you know, sir, that the Chamber of Secrets is real, and that what petrified Mrs Norris was a Basilisk?” Snape blustered to his mentor.

“A Basilisk, you say? Well, that clears up some matters.” Harry noticed the old man did not mention the Chamber. He narrowed his eyes in contemplation.

“Sir, this is obviously what Lucius was plotting about this summer,” Severus felt compelled to point out.

“Oh, I’m positive it is, although I’m at a loss as to how to combat it at the moment. Has Draco said anything about what Lucius is plotting? No? Pity. For instance the rumour spreading around the corridors is that Harry, here, must have opened the chamber as they noticed he was the only student missing.”

“Harry? He’s been here since after potions ended. In fact he heard the Basilisk. And he was not the only student missing: Draco was here as well!”

Albus perked up at this, sending a quick glance to Harry’s scar that Harry missed, but Severus did not. “Really, Harry? You’re a Parselmouth? How extraordinary. That is a very rare talent to have, indeed.” He turned back to Severus. “We need to discover who opened the chamber and how. We can keep closing it back up with Harry’s help here, once we find it, but the person responsible for tonight’s actions will only keep opening it, until they get what they want. We will need to be more vigilant in our wanderings of the castle. I’ll call a staff meeting for the morning. I don’t think we need to alarm the students just yet. For now, the students are confined to their dormitories for the rest of the evening. If that is all? Good evening, then.” He stepped back into the floo before anyone could gainsay him.

Snape huffed to himself in agitation. Sometimes he wanted to wring his mentor’s neck.

“I’m sorry Severus, Gertrude was supposed to stay hidden,” Salazar said, contritely. “You know, this is the second time this century that the chamber has been opened,” he mused.

“The second? When was the first?” Severus demanded.

“Fifty years ago. A girl died that time, and then the attacks stopped. I never knew who opened up the chamber then, and the castle has changed so much, I have no clue as to where the entrance is anymore.”

“Fifty years ago… wasn’t that when Hagrid was expelled?” Severus murmured to himself. He had forgotten Harry was still standing there.

“Hagrid was expelled? Was that when his wand was broken?” Harry asked as his father steered him back towards his bedroom, giving him a scathing look when he noticed the duvet on the floor. Harry hurried over to gather it up, along with his book, and joined his father back in the hallway.

“From what I remember of the story, yes. Why don’t we pay a visit to him tomorrow?”

“Sure!”

They reached Harry’s room and Harry climbed into bed as Severus settled the covers over him, tucking him in.

“Goodnight, Harry,” he said as he brushed his hand over his son’s head, noticing the boy was already half asleep.

“ ‘Night… dad…” Harry murmured as he rolled over, his breath even and quiet as he fell asleep completely.

***

After breakfast in Severus’ rooms, the three donned light capes and headed to Hagrid’s hut down the hill. Harry and Draco ran all the way with Severus following more sedately after them. He secretly enjoyed watching the boys act like the twelve-year olds they were; chasing each other, whooping as they jumped off of the small boulders that littered the hillside. When Severus finally reached the gamekeepers hut, he was greeted enthusiastically by the half-giant and the boys, as they were inspecting the pumpkins in Hagrid’s garden.

“…so these are for the Halloween feast?” Harry was asking as Severus walked towards them.

“Yeh, ‘Arry. Yeh’ll see some of ‘em suspended in the ceilin’, an’ some are used fer pies and such; they’re dead useful, pumpkins are,” the large man expounded. “ ‘Ullo, perfesser. I was just showing young ‘Arry and Draco me patch here.” He grinned as the stern professor arrived.

“Good morning, Hagrid. Your patch is looking very good; quite the healthy specimens. Harry and I have some questions for you, do you think we can go inside?”

“Of course, perfesser, lemme just call Fang.” Hagrid placed two fingers in his enormous mouth and whistled for his dog, who came lumbering around the side of the house. “C’mon you dousy dog; tha’s right.” He led the group into the cottage and, filling the kettle at the sink, hung it over the fire to warm up for tea.

“It’ll just be a mo’, ‘ow about a rock cake?” he asked bringing over a large tin full of his specialty. Harry, swinging his legs off the tall bench, politely reached for one but barely took a nibble, he remembered them from last term and they were just as hard. Hagrid grinned widely and moved to Severus, who declined as did Draco – who tried his best not to sneer at the offering.

“No, thank you, Hagrid,” Severus said.

“So, what’d yeh want to talk about?” Hagrid asked as he placed the tin on the table and got out four cups and saucers from his cupboard.

“You heard about Mrs Norris last night, I presume?” Severus began.

“Aye, I ‘eard.” Hagrid looked downcast as he fiddled with the crockery, then went to take the water off the fire. “Sprout told me las’ ev’nin’. Said the Chamber of Secrets ‘ad been opened.”

“That’s correct. We discovered earlier this summer that Harry can speak Parseltongue…”

Hagrid perked up at this with a grin. “Can ‘ee now! Tha’s a great skill to ‘ave, ‘Arry,” he praised. Harry just shrugged; he didn’t truly consider it great – more annoying than anything else.

“Yes, well he heard something speaking in Parseltongue last evening before the attack. We spoke with Salazar’s portrait, which stated that he had built a chamber deep in the bowels of the castle, to store dangerous items, and had set a Basilisk to guard it. However, he also said that… Gertrude…” Severus made a face at the name as Hagrid’s brightened up, “…was last released fifty years ago and that a girl died. Harry remembered that you had your wand snapped at roughly the same time and was expelled. Did you release the Basilisk last time?” he asked the half-giant point-blank.

Hagrid had gone through a gamut of emotions on his expressive, shaggy face as he listened to Snape’s story. It had started with excitement at the mention of the Basilisk, amusement when he heard the beast’s name, and finally sorrow when the death of the girl was mentioned.

“No sir, I didn’t release any Basilisk. Yeh see, it were like this: I owned an Acromantula who they all thought ‘ad caused the problems. But I told ‘em, Aragog wouldn’t ‘urt nobody, but they didna listen and ‘ee ‘ad run away so I didn’t ‘ave any proof. I didn’t kill Myrtle, perfesser, she was … my friend.” Huge tears had begun running down his face, soaking his beard, at his remembrance of that time, and the Hufflepuff who had been kind to an adolescent half-giant. He took a big sniff, blew his nose in a tablecloth-sized handkerchief, and wiped the tears from his face. “Dumbledore believed me… great man, Dumbledore… but ‘ee weren’t Headmaster then. All’s ‘ee could do was get me this here job as assistant gamekeeper to Ogg.” He looked over at Severus, totally forgetting to pour the tea.

“What’re yeh goin’ to do, perfesser?”

Severus leaned back in his seat on the bench, eyeing Hagrid with intent in his black eyes. “I’ll be talking to Dumbledore this afternoon. I’ll remind him of the previous situation, and hopefully get it remedied. As for the current state of things, it helps to know what we are facing.” He looked down at his son. “Do you want to stay here and help Hagrid until lunch, or come back with me and speak to Dumbledore?” he offered.

Harry worried his lower lip with his teeth as he thought about his options. “Do you mind if I stay here?” he asked quietly.

“Not at all, Harry. What about you, Draco?”

The blond gave a smile to his friend before saying, “Actually, I think I’ll stay down here, Uncle Sev; keep Harry company.” Hagrid grinned at that, he had a new batch of Hippogriffs he wanted to introduce the boys to.

“I shall see you both at lunch in the Great Hall, then. We have your homework to go over this afternoon, and then I believe you have Quidditch Practice before dinner, Harry?”

Harry brightened at this reminder – although he could have done without the homework. “Yes, sir,” he replied happily.

“Then I shall you leave you to it. Hagrid,” he said, extending his hand. “Thank you.”

“No, thank you, perfesser. I’m glad someone knows the truth now.”

Severus nodded to him as he gave Harry’s hair a stroke in affection then strode out the door. Hagrid clapped his great meaty hands together in enthusiasm. “C’mon boys, le’s go see what is ready to be pulled in the garden! An’ then I have someone I want yeh tah meet.”

Fang barked as the boys hopped down off the bench and the four headed out into the sunshine to pick vegetables.

****

Lunch in the Great Hall was still a bit strained at the Gryffindor table; Ron was still sitting as far away from Harry as he could get, sending furious glances the dark-haired boy’s way. Seamus and Dean were all right with Harry, now, and sat as buffers between the two strained friends. Hermione and Neville sat across from Harry trying to be supportive. Ginny, Ron’s little sister, who had just started her first year, was writing away in a little brown diary, while eating her sandwich. He caught her, sometimes, sneaking glances her way.

“Harry, just ignore Ronald,” Hermione advised. “He’ll come around eventually.”

“I know. I could just use his support right now,” Harry grumbled.

“Why? What’s going on?” Neville asked, picking up a second roll from the basket on the table and reaching for the butter.

“Just on Monday, my Aunt and Uncle go on trial, and I have to be there,” he said resignedly with a sigh.

“Why, Harry? Why are they on trial?” his pudgy friend asked. Harry looked a bit disinclined to answer, curling in on himself a bit; and Hermione, giving him a knowing, but sympathetic look, explained for him.

“Because they abused him, Neville,” she whispered so no one else could overhear. “Harry has to be there to testify. Harry, are they getting you an advocate?”

“Yeah, I’ve talked to him a couple of times over the summer. Severus will be there as well.” He hunched his shoulders as he hugged himself tightly, he wished Draco could be there as well, but there was no way he would say that out loud at the Gryffindor table. “I just don’t want to face them, Hermione.” He raised pleading eyes to his friend, who also saw resignation in those green orbs.

“I know, Harry. Is it a Muggle trial or a wizarding one?” she asked, quite curious despite her worry for her friend.

“Wizard. Since it was a wizard they…” He shook his head, he hadn’t been able to vocalize the fact that what they had done to him was abuse. He felt like a victim if he acknowledged it out loud – and he didn’t like feeling like a victim.

Severus and Whitney, his advocate, had gently worked with him prior to school starting to show him that the way his relatives had treated him all these years had been wrong, and in his head he knew they were right; but in his gut, he still felt that he somehow deserved all the punishments the Dursleys had heaped on him. He was a freak. Look at all the weird things that he could do – talking with snakes! Who, besides him, could talk to snakes? And surviving Voldemort – that had to be the freakiest thing ever, and he’d done it twice now. And what about his real family? It was great to have Severus as his dad, and Draco as his partial brother, but it just increased his freakiness quotient in the school and had caused Ron to shun him, even a week after the big reveal. He pushed his mashed potatoes around on his plate, sculpting them into various shapes then smashing them down with his spoon.

Finally, he gave a great sigh and pushed his plate away to have it vanish from the table. A bowl of mixed fruit arrived in its place and Harry grabbed an apple for later, tucking it away in his robes as he rose from his seat.

“I’ll see you guys later, I need to go do my homework. Erm… I’ll be down in the dungeons if you need me.”

“All right, Harry. See you at dinner?” Hermione asked, concern blossoming on her face.

“Don’t know. I have Quidditch practice this afternoon. It depends,” he equivocated. Hermione nodded at this and, after a quick glance at Head Table to give his father a nod in the direction of the dungeons, he hurriedly left the Great Hall.

Snape watched his son leave and then noticed Miss Granger round on the youngest male Weasley. He cast a wandless eavesdropping charm; this promised to be good.

“Ronald, you are a sorry excuse for a friend,” she started.

“Me?” he asked, spitting food in astonishment that she was venting in his direction. Snape winced at the repulsive table manners. “What’d I do?” He scowled at her.

“It’s what you haven’t done, Ronald. Harry is going through quite a lot right now and your shunning is not helping! You’re supposed to be his best friend, but it doesn’t seem like it right now.” She leaned in his direction, keeping her voice low – but direct.

“Some friend, turning out to be a Snape. What else hasn’t he told us, Hermione? Maybe he’s the heir of Slytherin – seems to be acting a whole lot like one! I saw him down at Hagrid’s this morning, palling around with Malfoy; seems like he’s going Slytherin on us.”

“Don’t be ridiculous Ronald, Harry is not the ‘Heir of Slytherin’; and he told us when he was allowed to. He didn’t know until this summer – and he did send us hints in those letters, or couldn’t you understand what he meant by his ‘appearance was going to dramatically change’? Merlin’s sake, Ronald – after your reaction last weekend, it’s a wonder he doesn’t hex you six ways from Sunday; but he hasn’t, and you know why?” she asked, crossing her arms in abhorrence at his attitude.

Ron was turning bright crimson in shame, and he shook his head. “No…”

“Because he still wants you for a friend, although it’s beyond me why he should. I heard what you three did to his bed all last week! You’re lucky he didn’t peach on you guys to McGonagall, or even worse – his dad!” Ron reddened even more at this accusation and Severus could just bet he knew what had happened to Harry’s bed.

Why hadn’t the boy told him? Did he think in some twisted way he deserved to have his bed urinated upon? He had to stop himself from physically smacking himself in the head – of course Harry thought that. Maybe not in those words, but deep down in that area that was still programmed in Dursley’s voice.

As he was ruminating on this, Hermione continued her tirade, getting a look of comprehension on her face. “Are you that jealous of him?” she asked in a sudden burst of insight.

Ron looked stunned at this. “Jealous? Me?”

“Yes, Ronald Bilius Weasley, jealous. You must think it is absolutely glorious to be Harry Potter-Snape, well let me tell you – it isn’t.” Her voice began to rise, catching the attention of the Gryffindors around them and soon the rest of the room, as the verbal thrashing became the focus of the entire great hall.

“He doesn’t want all that fame, all the press and gawking,” she continued. “He wants to be a normal person, with a normal family and normal friends. It is up to us to provide that for him, but you’ve had your head so far up your arse, you can’t see daylight! Get a clue, Ron – Harry has been envious of your family, because up until now, he has never even had a semblance of one. The Dursleys certainly wouldn’t count as such. Now he has someone: a father who cares for him. Who gives a rat’s arse if it is your most hated professor?”

Murmurs arose as a slow wave behind her tirade, gaining momentum as she leaned in towards the gobsmacked boy, oblivious of the attention she was attracting. “And who cares if he’s a friend with Malfoy – maybe that is what this school needs is a little bit more interhouse cooperation! The important part is that Professor Snape obviously cares for Harry and Harry cares for him. A family, Ronald – something you are blessed with an overabundance of. Get your blinkers off, Weasley, and start acting like a friend! Otherwise, you may lose him as one of yours – if you haven’t already!”

Ron sat there spluttering, too dumbstruck at Hermione’s tirade to say anything. She huffed and, pushing her bench back, stalked out of the hall, waves of applause and cheering accompanying her to the doors from three of the tables. The Slytherin’s were laughing outright at Ron’s expression, Pansy Parkinson nearly falling off her seat in hilarity. Fred and George took Hermione’s vacated seat after they finished their own raucous applauding of her, complete with whistles and mock kowtowing in her direction.

“She’s right, little bro…” George started.

“You messed up big time,” Fred chimed in.

“Yeah, Snape can be a right git in class – but he has to be, to ensure safety.”

“We should know; after our first cauldron meltdown, he took us aside and gave us a lecture on why we should follow the safety rules. Then he gave us tips on our own brewing.”

“Yeah, we were supposed to be in detention, and it ended up as a brewing session.” His twin grinned in remembrance – as did Severus, although he wiped his mouth with his serviette to hide it.

“We owe the man a great deal – but don’t let anyone else know, have to keep up appearances, don’t you know!” Fred said conspiratorially.

“You need to apologize to Harry, Ronniekins,” said George, in a matter of fact tone, and the twins rose as one with the rest of the fourth-year Gryffindors leaving Ron alone at his section of table, contemplating his half-eaten plate of food.

Snape cancelled the charm, smirking to himself. He would have to find some surreptitious way to award Granger ten points this week…