Harry and his professor found the others in the trophy room. Harry rather ostentatiously joined the group, making sure that everyone saw that Professor Snape was with him. “Sorry, Professor,” he said to McGonagall. “My guardian needed to talk to me. That’s why we’re a little late joinin’ you an’ the other parents.” He felt as if his chest would burst from happiness – this more than made up for never having anyone to sit with him on any of the “parents’ nights” at his school in Surrey.

Minerva McGonagall fought down her own smile. Good heavens, this would never do. Severus wasn’t the only one with a reputation to uphold. Yet, the pride and happiness on Harry’s face as he oh-so-casually held onto Snape’s hand were impossible to miss. Nor was she oblivious to the fact that, for all his studied nonchalance, Snape was making no effort to wrest free of the boy’s grasp.

Arthur and Molly noticed and nudged each other, as did Ron and Hermione. Only the Grangers didn’t realize anything was up, but they were still adjusting to wandering ghosts and talking portraits.

As the tour made its way through the castle, Ron managed to get Harry on his own. “Are you okay, mate? Did he… y’know?” Ron mimed a whack, and Harry nodded sheepishly. “Ouch! I’m sorry, mate. You shouldn’t’ve been the only one to catch it.”

“It was my idea,” Harry pointed out, “an’ besides, you had a concussion. It wouldn’t be right for you to get walloped on top of that.”

“Well, it’s not my head that would get it,” Ron pointed out dryly, “but I won’t argue with you. Did he go spare?”

“He was pretty upset,” Harry admitted. “I’ve got a week of detention and a set of lines, but considering what we did, it could’ve been a lot worse.”

“Yeah! And at least he punished you himself and didn’t leave you to the Headmaster!”

Harry shuddered. The Headmaster would probably have shipped him back to the Dursleys if his professor hadn’t been there.

Then another thought struck Ron. “Blimey, Harry, you’d better stay away from Hermione’s folks after what you had for breakfast. Didn’t you figure out who they were before you got your food?”

Harry stared at him in confusion. “What are you talking about?”

The pureblooded boy paled and leaned close to whisper, “They’re dentists! An’ you ate one of those pastries! You better watch out that they don’t catch you an’ drill holes in your teeth.”

Harry fought down his giggles. That was why Ron had been so polite all morning? Because he was scared witless?

Mrs Granger turned to Professor Snape. “I gather that the children got mixed up in something very dangerous. Do you think it’s safe for them to remain here? I must admit we’re considering taking Hermione home with us and finding another option for her. I mean, it’s one thing for her to go away to school, but if there’s danger here…” She looked at him in appeal. “This is all so new to us. We want to do the right thing, but we certainly don’t want to risk our little girl. I can see you feel similarly about your Harry – what do you plan to do?”

Snape nearly choked. HIS Harry? Obviously the Muggle was truly confused. “I believe that your daughter will be safe if she remains here. Yesterday’s events were…impossible to foresee.”

Mrs Granger sighed. “I hope so. Hermione doesn’t want to leave. For the first time she has friends as well as good grades… And I have been very impressed with how well-mannered and respectful the children are here. Though they do seem a bit high-strung, especially young Ron over there.”

As they spoke, the bell for classes rang, and students spilled out into the hallway. As usual, they dodged around the Potions Master, but they were less careful about the other adults. That is, until they caught sight of Hermione holding her father’s hand, and realized who the tall man must be. Immediately, most of the students – particularly purebloods – blanched and stiffened to attention. “Hello, Hermione. Hello, sir,” they gulped, flattening themselves against the wall to give the Grangers a wide berth.

“See what I mean?” Mrs Granger whispered to Snape. “I’ve never seen anything like it! Such courtesy!”

“Hi, Draco!” Harry caught sight of the blond, who was trying to hide behind Flint. “Want to join us?”

“No, no!” Draco shook his head vehemently, then paled as Mrs Granger looked at him curiously. He quickly blurted, “Thank you though,” and added a bow for good measure, as did an equally nervous Flint.

Snape had heard the Dentist Story – having had to reassure several of his younger Snakes that he would never, ever permit Granger or her parents anywhere near their teeth – but felt that explaining the matter would do little for Muggle-Wizard relations. “Yes, we place a high value on etiquette here at Hogwarts,” he said blandly. “And I think you’ll find the Wizarding world somewhat more formal than the Muggle one,” he added as a trembling Millicent Bulstrode dropped a quick curtsy as they passed her.

“What a sweet little girl!” Mrs Granger cried, and bulky Millicent nearly wet herself in relief. “You and the other faculty must be accustomed to such shows of respect, but I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything like it,” she explained to Snape.

“No, I wouldn’t say I’m used to it,” Snape remarked, watching as three Ravenclaws fought to be the one to open the doors to the Great Hall for the party.

The only crisis at lunch came when the house elves discovered the pudding course had been relatively untouched. But by then the Weasleys and Grangers had departed, with many hugs and kisses and instructions to write home, and the Trio had been sent back to rejoin their classes.

There, they had to tell their story over and over for their awestruck peers. Everyone was both amazed to hear what had become of their DADA instructor and delighted that Quirrell would not be returning to teach them. Even those who came from Death Eater families were pleased to be rid of an unpopular and incompetent professor, so the Trio received nothing but praise and gratitude for their actions.

Harry’s fame among the student body only increased when, later that night, he was discovered in the Gryffindor Common Room writing “I will not prank Dark Lords” 200 times. Sure, lines were a common punishment, but those lines?

Over the next week, the rest of Harry’s detention passed as pleasurably as he had hoped. The books his guardian assigned him were fascinating, and Snape did a wonderful (if acerbic) job of explaining the complex topics. Harry began to see how lucky he’d been in the infirmary and why half-baked plans were so dangerous to all involved. The lessons dovetailed nicely with the dueling strategy that Professor Flitwick was beginning to describe during their time together, and it was surprisingly easy for the contented eleven year old to put the events with Professor Quirrell firmly behind him.

Snape was less happy. Though he couldn’t fault the brat’s behavior, he was becoming increasingly apprehensive about Black. The mutt had done everything Snape had instructed and, to the Potion Master’s resignation and dismay, everything was working out exactly as he had intended.

Sirius had shown the world press copies of his pensieved memories, as well as sending them to Madame Bones. After that, there was no way for the Ministry to pretend Black was guilty, and Fudge ordered his staff to do whatever it took to shut Black up and make him go away.

Snape, Black, and Lupin put their heads together and soon thereafter, a growling Fudge publicly apologized for the wrongs done to Sirius Black. A hefty pay-out accompanied the apology, as did a full pardon for Black and all (unnamed) associates regarding his escape from Azkaban. Although Bones, Moody and the other Aurors were dying to know how their former colleague had managed to sneak off the island, an explanation was not part of the deal, and they all (even Moody) felt so ashamed of themselves for believing the worst about Sirius, that they couldn’t bring themselves to ask him.

The upshot was that about a week after the brat’s latest detention ended, Snape had to sit Harry down, explain that Black had been exculpated, explain what “exculpated” meant, and then inform the boy that the next evening, the two of them would be portkeying to Switzerland so that Harry could meet his godfather.

##

“What’s he like? Will he like me? What do I call him? Is he nice? What if he doesn’t like me?” Harry’s excitement bubbled over as Snape fiddled with his tie in preparation to their taking the portkey from Albus’ office.

Dumbledore looked on, smiling fondly at the excited child. Only Snape’s grim face and tightly pressed lips detracted from his enjoyment of the moment. He had offered to take Harry, thinking to spare his Potion Master the distasteful task of seeing his hated enemy, but to Albus’ surprise, Snape had turned him down flat. Dumbledore sighed. It was obvious that he had lost a great deal of Severus’ trust with his mishandling of Harry’s situation, and in all honesty, Albus couldn’t blame him.

Not only had he placed Harry with those wholly unsuitable Muggles – and then not had the foresight to check on him regularly – but he had misjudged Sirius and even failed to detect Voldemort when the man – well, creature – was right under his nose! Albus sighed. Perhaps his plan to lure Voldemort to the school by using the Philosopher’s Stone hadn’t been such a good idea after all. Well, the Stone was now back with Flamel, who had managed to keep it safe all these years, and they had clear proof that Voldemort had returned.

Albus looked over at Snape. Poor man. He hid such a good heart under layers and layers of protective snark and snarl, but all of Albus’ efforts at helping him emerge from behind those shields had failed. At least until now. Watching him carefully fix Harry’s tie, even as he scolded the boy for being an excitable babblemouth, Albus thought that his idea of putting the two wounded souls together might have been one of his moments of brilliance. He could feel how deeply each longed to be loved, and it had seemed as if things were working out brilliantly… at least until now. Sirius’ arrival was bound to upset things, and try as he might, Albus just couldn’t come up with a means to prevent Snape from – once again – being badly hurt.

Considering the complete lack of help Albus had provided him ten years ago, Sirius was hardly likely to welcome any advice or entreaties from his former mentor. And while Albus was hopeful that Sirius still loved Harry despite the damage that a decade in Azkaban must have caused, he rather doubted that the brash, impulsive, and often unintentionally thoughtless Black would be the best guardian for the troubled, fragile, and extraordinarily vulnerable Harry. But neither could he imagine Black accepting Snape in that role. Not for a second. In fact, when he found out that Snape was acting as de facto guardian, Sirius was all too likely to immediately demand custody of the boy. Albus could only hope Sirius wouldn’t pull Harry from Hogwarts entirely, though given all that had happened, as well as Sirius’ enormous fortune, deciding to have the boy privately tutored or give him a fresh start at Beauxbatons wasn’t such a far fetched idea. And if it had the added bonus of wounding Snape, Black was all too likely to do it for that reason alone.

Albus sighed, feeling extremely old and tired. He should have done so much more to stop Sirius’ bullying of Severus back when they were both students. He should have worked to foster a friendship between them, but he had been so delighted to think that at least one of the Blacks had turned away from the Dark, he had given the boy far too much leeway in other things. And now the fact that he had never managed to curb Sirius’ spite towards Severus was not only going to harm Snape anew, but also carry the damage into the next generation by involving Harry as well.

His poor boys. His two poor, poor boys, both of whom he had harmed so very deeply. “Severus, perhaps if I were to bring Harry, Sirius would be more open to negotiation…?” he offered delicately, feeling compelled to make one last attempt at protecting Snape from Black’s vitriol.

Snape turned from where he had been scolding a depressingly unsquelched Harry. Of course, the boy has already realized he no longer needs to listen to me. His godfather is about to take over his care. “No, Headmaster. I will take him.” He needed to ensure that the idiotic mutt knew he wasn’t going to get Harry without a fight, plus he wanted to be brought up to date on what the Marauders had done to the Dursleys this week.

Dumbledore drooped in defeat and handed Snape a toy penguin. “Just tap it and say ‘Black’ to get there, ‘Home’ to return.”

“Come here,” Snape ordered, and Harry immediately grabbed his guardian in a hug. He was so excited… and a little apprehensive too. He wasn’t really worried since his professor was going to be there, but his godfather did look kinda scary. Professor McGonagall had said that he’d loved Baby Harry like his own son, and she’d started to tell him other stories about his godfather, but then her nose had gotten all pink and she’d had to leave abruptly.

Professor Snape said that a lot of people owed his godfather a great big apology for misjudging him, and they all felt ashamed of themselves for not helping him ten years ago. Harry had rather indignantly felt that was only fair. If his friends and teachers had let him rot in jail for something he hadn’t done, they’d better feel guilty about it. Professor Snape had also explained that he and Harry’s godfather had never liked each other – not one bit – so if his godfather said rude things about him, Harry shouldn’t be surprised. Harry figured that that sort of let Professor Snape off the hook about helping his godfather. If you didn’t like someone, you would expect that they’d do awful things like blowing up a street and killing people, but if you liked someone – like everyone said Professors McGonagall and Dumbledore had done – then you should have faith in them.

Harry didn’t think he trusted the Headmaster very much. He made too many mistakes about people, like thinking the Dursleys were nice or that Quirrell was a good (or at least normal) teacher or that his godfather was bad. Harry was glad the Headmaster wasn’t responsible for him anymore and that he had Professor Snape looking out for him now. Even if his professor did yell at him for getting overexcited when, really, who could blame him? He was about to meet his godfather!

Snape rolled his eyes as the brat, instead of simply taking his arm like a normal person, drove his pointy forehead into Snape’s breastbone. The little fiend seemed to relish pretending that a simple portkeying was a dangerous adventure. Honestly. But that didn’t stop him from wrapping one arm tightly around the boy as he activated the portkey with the other.

Harry felt a jerk behind his navel and yelped in surprise, the noise muffled against his professor’s robes. Then they were suddenly standing in a strange room, filled with sunlight and comfortable – though expensive – looking furniture. Tall snowcapped mountains could be seen out the window.

“Is - is that him? Is that Harry?” a breathless voice asked from behind him.

Harry could feel his guardian’s exasperated sigh as the man sneered, “No, Black. I have arrived with a random Hogwarts student. Do you mean you wanted a particular one?”

“He’s only kidding! It’s me, Harry,” Harry laughed, turning within his guardian’s embrace. His professor could be really funny when he wanted!

Odd – his professor hadn’t turned him loose yet. Usually he let go as soon as they arrived and it was Harry who prolonged the contact, but this time, he kept his arm around Harry, almost as if he were scared he wouldn’t get the chance to hold him again anytime soon. Oh well. Harry mentally shrugged. Adults were weird.

He found himself looking at the man from the newspaper photo (minus the thong). His godfather was tall, with dark hair and blue eyes that Hermione insisted were “gorgeous”. His face was lined, but right now it was lit up with a huge smile. “HARRY!” he let out a joyous shout that was almost a bark.

“Um, hi,” Harry said, suddenly feeling shy.

“Come here – let me take a look at you!” the man commanded, holding out his arms.

Harry felt his professor’s grip tighten for a second but then Snape’s arm withdrew entirely, and Harry obediently stepped towards his godfather. Only to yelp in surprise as he was grabbed and tossed high in the air.

“I used to do that when you were a pup!” Sirius grinned, catching him and hugging him tight. “Do you remember?”

“Padfoot, Harry was just a baby then. I doubt he remembers us at all,” another man said, smiling, as he stepped from behind the couch. “Hello, Harry, I’m Remus Lupin.”

“Er, hello,” Harry offered. He glanced at his professor. “Erm, they were my father’s friends, yeah?” he asked uncertainly.

Snape looked sour. “Yes. The idiot and the werewolf.”

“Hey!” Sirius protested. “Who are you calling an idiot?”

Snape just looked at him and after a moment, Sirius shrugged resignedly and turned back to Harry. “Well, okay, but I’m a lot better now.”

Harry giggled.

“I’ll just leave you alone,” the other man said quietly. Harry noticed that he’d made no effort to come any closer.

“Wait,” Harry said, twisting to see him. “Mr – uh – Lupin? Why are you leaving?”

“Yeah, Moony,” Sirius protested. “Don’t go.”

“I think your visitors would be more comfortable if I weren’t here.” Remus gave Sirius a pointed look.

“Oh!” Sirius looked torn as he glanced from Harry to Remus and back again.

Harry looked puzzled. “Why would you make us feel uncomfortable?” he asked blankly.

“Lupin is playing the martyr because he assumes that you share the prejudice against werewolves common to most in the Wizarding world,” Snape commented in a bored tone. “He believes that you will be frightened of him and shy from his touch.”

Remus shot Snape a dirty look. “Well, since someone obviously saw fit to inform Harry of my condition,” he retorted, “the least I can do is not interfere with his reunion with his godfather.”

Harry squirmed until his godfather let him down, then walked up to Lupin. “I’m not afraid of you, sir,” he offered, holding out his hand. “I know you were one of my father’s best friends.”

Amazed, Lupin shook Harry’s hand, tears coming to his eyes. He looked over at Snape, who stood arms crossed over his chest. “Severus, again you shame me. Thank you for this gift.”

Snape grumbled in irritation. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, wolf. I certainly wasn’t going to frighten the brat half to death with some nonsensical propaganda, though neither did I pretend you’re a harmless little puppy dog.”

“That would be me!” Sirius, never one to allow the spotlight to be off him for long, promptly transformed into his canine form, leaving Harry speechless.

Remus sighed. “Trust your godfather to keep a secret. Padfoot, I thought we agreed that it was better for Harry not to know about your secret animagus form.”

“That’s so wicked!” Harry yelled, running over to pat his godfather. Padfoot promptly rolled on his back so Harry could scratch his tummy. “You’re just like Professor McGonagall! Wow!”

“Brilliant, Black,” Snape sneered. “Do you really imagine that confiding in an 11 year old is a way to safeguard your secret? Let me guess – you’ve shown off for at least a dozen local women as well.”

Sirius transformed back and grinned at the Potion Master. “Snape, my lad, trust me. I impress the women just fine with my human form, though I admit there’s quite a transformation involved there as well,” he leered.

Harry looked quizzical, and Snape gritted his teeth. “Spare me your smut, Black.”

“Jealous?”

Remus stepped in before Severus could answer. “Sirius, I doubt you want to get into this kind of comparison with a Slytherin. Remember what Missy Rogers told you?”

“Oh.” Sirius scowled. “Right.”

Snape blinked. Who was - ? Oh, yes. Rogers. A Slytherin the year behind him. But what did she have to do with…?

Remus stepped over to Snape, who managed (barely) to control his flinch. The werewolf lowered his voice confidingly. “Sirius dated Missy for a few weeks our sixth year. When they broke up, she made some comments about his, er, prowess, and told him that, ah, the Slytherin mascot had special – uh – meaning for the males in your House. That they were taught special spells to – er – emulate a serpent with, erm, a certain part of their anatomy and that, uh,” Remus was a brilliant red, but he gamely continued his whispered explanation, “well, it was hard for a girl to go back after having had a Slytherin boy. Sirius sulked for three days straight.”

Snape’s eyes were wide, and only his stern control prevented him from clutching himself. That was what the other Houses said about Slytherin? Where the hell had he been when those spells were being taught?

“A few weeks later, Missy told me she’d made it all up, just to teach Sirius a lesson, but somehow I never quite got around to sharing the news with him.” Remus grinned at Snape’s expression. “It’s good to keep Sirius feeling a little humble.”

“He’s never figured it out?” Snape asked, stunned.

“Well, he tried to get his brother to teach him the spells, but of course he and Regulus were estranged by then, so Reg just told him to sod off.” Remus’ eyes were crinkled as he held back his laughter, and Snape suddenly found it hard to despise the creature quite as much as he had.

Sirius had gone back to talking to Harry after Remus interrupted his little spat with Snape, and now he gave another bark of laughter. “Sure, you can learn to be an animagus, Harry. I mean, your dad did, so why not you? We weren’t much older than you when we started to learn.”

“My dad was an animagus? Cool! Do you get to choose your form? ‘Cause I want to be a talking snake.”

The words were met with a moment of shocked silence, then Snape took two steps forward. “A talking snake? What do you mean by that?” he demanded, the back of his neck prickling with dread. Sirius and Remus exchanged worried glances.

“You know,” Harry explained innocently, “since wizards can talk to snakes, I think that’d be a wicked choice. You’d get to be an animal but you could still talk to people who weren’t animaguses.”

“Animagi,” Snape corrected automatically, his mind racing. Sirius and Remus were looking at each other in horror. “You can talk to snakes?”

Harry nodded.

“Show me.” Snape abruptly conjured a snake. Startled, the Marauders pulled out their own wands, but before they could do anything, Harry had stepped forward. “Hello,” he said politely to the hissing cobra. “It’s nice to meet you. My name is Harry.”

“A ssspeaker!! Hello, ssspeaker,” the snake dipped its head in welcome. “Why have you ssummoned me?”

“My guardian wanted to see me talk to you. I hope you don’t mind.”

“No, not at all. Is there anyone you would like me to bite before I go?”

“No, thank you. But do you think you could find your way to Surrey? I have –“ But Snape, having heard enough, had banished the snake, and now all three adults were staring at Harry.

“What?” he asked, then realized he was still speaking Snake. “Sorry. What is it?”

“He’s a Parselmouth?” Sirius gulped, looking a bit sick. “When did that happen?”

“If anyone finds out…” Remus looked worriedly at Snape. “The reaction could be bad. People can be very cruel.”

Snape nodded absently, busy calculating all the benefits this talent could bring, if handled properly. Perhaps Harry could challenge the Dark Lord for mastery of his familiar Nagini? Or obtain his own, even more powerful, snake familiar? Hmmm. How long did it take to grow a basilisk….?

“Snape!” Sirius was hugging Harry protectively, and the boy was beginning to look worried. “What are we going to do about this?”

“Obviously this needs to be kept a secret,” Snape replied, giving Sirius a killer glare. “And by that I mean a real secret. Not like your ridiculous animagus form.”

“Why? What’s wrong with talking to snakes?” Harry demanded.

“It is a very rare and powerful talent,” Snape replied before either Marauder could. “The fewer people who know it, the more value it will be in your fight against the Dark Lord. Keeping it a secret is therefore in your best interests and will help you protect yourself and your friends better. You don’t ever want to allow Him to harm Ron and Hermione again, do you?”

Harry shook his head, eyes wide. “I won’t tell anyone. You won’t either, will you?” he appealed to Sirius and Remus.

“No! Not a soul,” Sirius swore, hugging him again.

“Not even Dumbledore?” Remus asked.

“NO!” Harry yelled, just as Snape shook his head. The Gryffindors looked at Harry in surprise.

“Why not tell the Headmaster?” Remus asked Harry. “Don’t you like him?”

Harry shrugged awkwardly, looking at the floor. “He’s nice an’ all, and he always gives me lollies, but he didn’t help Mr Black an’ –“

“Mr Black!” Sirius repeated in horror. “What did you call me that for?”

Harry looked at him nervously. “I’m sorry. What do you want me to call you, sir?”

“Sir! Did you just call me sir?!” Sirius’ yell was even louder, and Harry began to look frightened.

Rolling his eyes, Snape stepped forward and pulled Harry away from Black. “Stop screaming like a first year Hufflepuff,” he ordered brusquely, draping one arm over the brat’s shoulder. “You never told the boy what to call you, so don’t be alarmed when he demonstrates that he has been taught appropriate courtesy.”

“Yes, but ‘Sir’ or ‘Mr Black’?” Sirius demanded pitifully. “You can’t be serious.”

“No, that would be you,” Remus put in, chuckling, only to be hit by glares from the others.

“Harry, can’t you call me Sirius? Or Padfoot?” he asked hopefully.

“Erm, okay, Padfoot,” Harry agreed timidly. “I didn’t mean to make you mad.”

“I’m not mad, Harry; it’s just… I want to be your friend. Not some random adult in your life, okay? I mean, how many godfathers do you have?”

Harry smiled.

“And you can call me Remus or Moony, Harry,” Lupin put in. “And we won’t tell Professor Dumbledore anything, okay?”

“Thanks!” Harry exclaimed in relief. He still didn’t trust Dumbledore not to ship him back to the Dursleys if he thought Harry was too weird for Hogwarts. “So when c’n I learn to become a snake?”

“Well, Harry, it doesn’t exactly work like that. You don’t get to choose your animagus form. Sorry,” Sirius explained apologetically.

Harry pouted. “But what if my form is something stupid?”

“It’s still wicked to be an animal, Harry,” Sirius coaxed. “Not everyone can do it, you know.”

Harry looked over at his professor. “Can you?”

“No,” Snape admitted coldly.

“Then maybe we could learn together!” Harry said excitedly.

Snape nearly snorted in derision. Black, willing to teach him something? That would be the day!

“Yeah, okay,” Sirius agreed, ignoring Snape’s shocked expression. “Then you can help each other practice. It was easier for James and Peter and me to learn together.”

“Um,” a thought struck Harry and he glanced over at his professor nervously. “You’re not still mad at my professor, are you?” he asked Sirius. “I mean, I know there are a lot of people you’re probably still mad at for believing you did all those things the Ministry said you did, but Pr’fessor Snape’s not one of them, right?” Becoming an animagus sounded hard and maybe a bit dangerous, and if his godfather was still annoyed with his guardian…

Sirius stared at Harry. “You mean he didn’t tell you?” he gasped. Snape’s head came up, but he wasn’t in time to prevent Black’s next words. “Snape’s the one who broke me out!”

Harry’s eyes bugged. Professor Snape?? His guardian had been the one to smuggle his godfather out of that prison that everyone said was impossible to escape? His guardian had been the one to break the rules like that? “But – but why?” he gulped, staring at Snape.

Snape’s hands itched to strangle the mutt. Black had the restraint of a kumquat! Was there anything he didn’t spill on the spot? How could Lily have ever thought of using this idiot as their SECRET keeper?

“Now, Severus,” Remus said, correctly interpreting Snape’s rage, “we’re all in this together. Keeping secrets among the four of us isn’t really necessary, now is it?”

“In case you haven’t noticed, Lupin, Harry is eleven years old,” Snape spat. “He is a child. He is not to be burdened with keeping adults’ secrets for them! He has enough to worry about without taking on additional concerns that are well beyond his power to control and equally beyond his maturity to consider rationally!”

“I am so mature enough!” Harry protested.

“No, you are not,” Snape shot back. “While I do not dispute that you are at least as mature as Black, that is still not saying very much.”

“Oi!” Black exclaimed, but Snape ignored him.

“He is a child, Lupin, not a co-conspirator. While there is no value in keeping him wholly ignorant of matters which affect him, it is equally dangerous to treat him as if he were a fully grown wizard with an adult’s experience and judgment. I will decide what he is told, when and how. That is what I am here for.” At least until Black replaces me, he added silently.

Harry started to pout, but then remembered he had even more interesting news to ask about. “Why did you help Sirius to escape?” he demanded, tugging on his guardian’s sleeve. “I thought you didn’t like him.”

“I don’t,” Snape said shortly. Sirius rolled his eyes.

Harry frowned in thought. “When did you help him?”

“What difference does it make?” Snape snapped at the boy, hoping to head off the line of inquiry. Of all the times for Harry to finally be perceptive, this was definitely the most awkward!

“Was it before or after you said you’d take care of me?” Harry asked suspiciously.

“I can answer that,” Sirius said sweetly, ignoring Snape’s “SHUT UP, MUTT!”. “It was just afterwards.”

Snape slumped. This was what he got for hanging around with Gryffindors. Sure enough, the brat had put the pieces together and was staring at him with unabashed adoration. “You did it for me?” he squeaked. “You got my godfather back for me?”

Snape grumbled and muttered as the boy – naturally – hurled himself against him, further bruising his sternum and getting his robes all snotty. Black and Lupin looked on, beaming proudly at the mess they had created.

“All right, all right,” Snape growled, finally pulling the boy away from him and mopping up all the splooge with a handkerchief. Did all children leak from happiness the way this brat did? “Now mark me well, Potter, you are not to mention your godfather’s escape nor my part in it to anyone. That includes any of the Weasleys, Granger, the Headmaster, or anyone else. Do you understand?” Harry nodded vigorously. “You are also not to breathe a word about your idiot godfather’s animagus form, the fact that Lupin is a werewolf, or that you are a parselmouth – that you can speak with snakes. Do you understand? If you do –“

“I know,” Harry grinned through his tears, “you’ll smack me.”

“No, Mr Potter. You will put all of us – and all of your friends – in jeopardy from the Dark Lord.” Harry lost his grin. “This knowledge is not being held secret out of a puerile sense of adventure. Rather, it is information that can assist us in the fight against You Know Who. If you reveal it, it will put people’s lives at risk and impair our ability to prosecute our campaign against Him. Do you understand?”

Harry nodded soberly. “I won’t tell. Honest. I’m good at keeping secrets.”

That Snape didn’t doubt. Harry had kept the secrets of those bastard Muggles all too well. “Very well. Then we will say no more about it.”

“Hold on,” Sirius butted in. “What does Harry mean, you’ll smack him? Have you laid a hand on my godson? After what you said those fucking Muggles did to him?”

Harry’s eyes widened. Oooooh, his godfather swore! And right in front of him!

“Padfoot!” Remus rebuked. “Language!”

“Moony! He hit Harry!”

Remus sighed. “Did you deserve it?” he asked quietly, bending down to look Harry in the eye.

Harry nodded.

“How long before you could sit down?”

Harry blushed. “Er, maybe a minute or two,” he exaggerated, worried that his professor would look bad otherwise.

Remus blinked. “Is that all?”

“Errr… could have been three or four,” Harry offered.

“So it doesn’t sound as if it was a very hard walloping?”

Harry shook his head. “He’s not really good at smacking, to tell you the truth. He doesn’t like to hit, and he doesn’t know how. Mostly he just scolds and has me write essays or lines, but he doesn’t even make me do that very much. He – he’s really nice to me. Nicer than Mr Weasley even!”

“And he just swats your bum, right? With his hand?”

Harry nodded.

“He doesn't hit your face or anything else?”

Harry shook his head.

“He doesn’t use his wand?”

Harry frowned, perplexed. “Y’mean to hit me with?”

Remus fought back a smile. “No, to hex you.”

“Oh, we haven’t started duellin’. Pr’fessor Snape says I’m not ready yet.”

“No, no. I meant does he hex you for punishment?”

Harry’s eyes widened. “You mean using magic to hurt me?” At Remus’ nod, he huffed in outrage. “Pr’fessor!” he turned to Snape, scandalized. “Remus is asking if you ever hex me for punishment! Do people - I mean wizards - really do that?”

Part of Snape – the part that wasn’t busy exchanging loud insults with Sirius – felt a glow of pride and triumph that he was the one Harry trusted. The brat still didn’t trust the werewolf’s word. No, it was Snape, the nasty Slytherin, who’d won his loyalty first.

Unfortunately, the little voice in his head pointed out this would hardly be the case much longer, and the sweetness turned to ashes. “Yes, yes, Potter," he said testily. "Some wizarding families do use magic to discipline their offspring. I'm sure some of your classmates are very familiar with the practice.”

“Huh.” Harry folded his arms across his chest and glowered at Remus. “That’s disgusting.”

Remus decided he didn’t need to bother asking whether Snape had ever used any Dark curses on the child. “What did you get your last smacking for?”

Harry squirmed, his embarrassment returning. “There was this DADA professor at school…”

Remus blinked. “You mean Quirrell?”

Harry looked surprised. “Yeah! You heard about that?”

Remus chuckled. “Everyone heard about that. So you got smacked for that?”

“Well, a smack, anyway,” Harry admitted. “Plus detention and lines.”

Remus straightened up, trying unsuccessfully to keep a straight face, and looked over to where Sirius was still yelling at Snape. “Padfoot!”

“What?”

“Ask Harry why he got his last swat.”

Sirius walked over, still grumbling. “Doesn’t matter why, Moony. Evil git shouldn’t be hitting my godson. Poor little guy. Doesn’t deserve to be – Harry?” his voice softened remarkably. “Can you please tell me what that mean old bat Snape walloped you for? I promise I won’t get angry.”

Harry mentally shrugged. Grownups sure were strange. “I got a swat for Sticking Professor Quirrell’s turban to the infirmary bed and letting out Lord Voldesnort.”

Sirius’ eyes widened. “What did you call – Wait. One swat? You only got ONE swat for Quirrell? Only one? One?” Harry nodded blankly. “Merlin! You jammy little sod! Your grandfather would have blistered your bum for something like that! When your father and I took our brooms into the Forbidden Forest, he made sure we couldn’t sit for a week! And you only got ONE SWAT for facing You Know Who?”

“Pr’fessor Snape doesn’t hit to hurt,” Harry told him primly, “just to make sure I know I messed up.” He felt relief that his professor was the one caring for him. It sounded like, for all his playfulness, his godfather might not be quite so indulgent. “No one’s hurt me like that since the Dursleys.” And I’m going to keep it that way.

Snape glared at the Marauders and his ward. “If you are quite done reviling me and questioning my disciplinary methods…”

Sirius huffed. “Never would have thought of you as being lenient,” he grumbled.

“Harry is many things, but dimwitted isn’t one of them,” Snape retorted. “I don’t have to worry about him taking nocturnal joyrides in the Forbidden Forest.”

Harry straightened proudly. That had definitely been a compliment!

“We weren’t joyriding,” Sirius protested, obviously still nursing a grievance from twenty years back. “We were reconnoitering good places to take Moony during the full moon. But we could hardly say that when Filch caught us, so Dumbledore called James’ dad and we got our arses striped good and proper.”

Snape shot a look at Harry. The boy was looking almost sympathetic. “Harry knows perfectly well that if he were to get into similar trouble, he is able to tell me the complete and unvarnished truth so that I may decide what best to do,” he said, giving the boy a pointed look.

Harry grinned and nodded. It seemed a little odd that his father had had to keep secrets from his own dad, but Professor Snape had said that wizards were funny about werewolves, so maybe that was it.

“Well, if you let him off with a little tap on the bum for facing down You Know Who, why wouldn’t he tell you everything?” Sirius sulked.

Remus hid a smile behind his hand. “You know, Padfoot, I rather think that’s Severus’ point,” he explained.

Harry had had enough of the adults’ pointless asides, and he steered the conversation back to what really interested him. “So what’s it like to be an animagus?” he asked, pulling on his godfather’s arm. “Is it hard to change?”

Sirius’ grumpy mood melted at the sight of his godson’s eager face. “Would you like to see your father and the rest of us as animagi? Should I get the pensieve?”

Harry nodded, eyes shining. “Sure! What was my dad? Was he a bear? A lion? A hawk?”

“He was a stag,” Sirius told him proudly.

Snape nearly snorted with amusement at the look of utter disgust that came over Harry’s face. “A deer? My dad was a deer? They don’t even have teeth!”

“Harry!” Sirius protested. “Your dad’s form was brilliant! He was a magnificent stag, with big antlers and –“

“Are you sure you can’t choose your form?” Harry whined.

Remus put an arm around the boy. “Wait until you see Prongs in action, Harry. Sometimes he was the only one who could keep the wolf back. Those antlers can do a lot of damage, you know, and he was a big animal.”

Harry sighed. “I guess…” he allowed grudgingly.