Sensitive Side! Yeah, right. Harry joined in with the titters of laughter that broke out on all sides. Snape looked absolutely livid. The git didn't have a funny bone.

 Severus cast Erin a look that would have scorched if she had even deigned to look at him. But she had resumed her sickening fawning over the brat, so he turned those obsidian orbs on his fellow Order members.

Unfortunately, none of them were in the least bit cowed. In fact, they still looked highly amused-at his expense. Severus didn't like being the butt of other's humour.

"I believe that is ‘touché', Severus," said Dumbledore, and Severus wanted to hex the twinkle right out of those annoyingly ageless eyes. A man in his one hundred and fifteenth odd year of life had no right having such bright, intelligent eyes. They should be faded by cataracts and clouded by confusion at the very least.

Dumbledore was never intimidated by Severus, and Minerva always gave as good as she got; so knowing he was wasting his time, the Order's spy turned his fulminating glare on Kingsley, the man responsible for his present feelings of discomposure. Discomposure was not a feeling that Severus had a lot of experience with. He was usually the one doing the discomposing.

Kingsley Shacklebolt was a formidable wizard and his addition to the ranks of the Order of the Phoenix had been of immeasurable use. Being a senior Auror put him in a unique position to gather very necessary information. The man also had amazing insights into the criminal mind.

Because of his spying duties, Severus probably collaborated more with Kingsley than any of the other members, except for Dumbledore. As a result of this close association, Severus had developed a grudging respect for the man and that had slowly morphed into the closest approximation to friendship that Severus enjoyed with anyone other than Dumbledore and Minerva.

The Potions Master, Healer, Death Eater and spy had been very reserved the whole of his life. He did not make friends easily or willingly. It took a very persistent person indeed to ignore Severus Snape's unapproachable glares, aloofness, snide comments and determined unfriendliness.

Kingsley was eight years older than Severus and had finished Hogwarts before Severus had started. They had never come across each other before and as it had been Mad-Eye Moody who had indoctrinated Kingsley into the Order, that had been more than enough reason for Severus to initially treat the man with sneering contempt.

Severus incorrectly assumed that Kingsley would have inherited all of Moody's prejudices and dislikes. He assumed that the ex-Auror would have  primed his young associate with tales of Severus Snape's perfidious past.

And though Kingsley had listened politely to Mad-Eye's ranting and taken it all on board, the younger man had weighed up Snape's murky past and Moody's passionate hatred of all things ever associated with Voldemort, against Dumbledore's complete trust and liking of Severus Snape.

Kingsley had a great deal of respect for Albus Dumbledore, as he did for Moody, but he knew Moody's vision was often blinkered and the man was practically incapable of changing his mind, despite proof showing that his initial impressions were no longer totally valid.

Kingsley always made up his own mind and though he was in no doubt that Severus was a highly unpleasant individual, it was not too difficult for him to see beneath the sneering façade and aloof bearing.

 So the death glare now being directed at him did little but make Kingsley smile and raise a mocking eyebrow. He moved closer to his associate and cocked his head to the side. "You catch more flies with honey than with vinegar, my friend," he said sotto voce.

"To my knowledge," bit out Severus, with little attempt to keep his pithy response to a whisper, "...there are no potions that require the addition of flies, Shacklebolt, so your puerile observations are neither needed nor appreciated."

Severus spun around to leave and found himself face to face with Remus Lupin, who had one hand firmly grasped by Tonks. The girl looked like the cat that had swallowed the canary. Remus looked more than a little sheepish if the high colour across his cheekbones was any indication.

"Professor Lupin!" Harry had caught site of Remus and pushed himself further upright, a bright smile of greeting adorning his face.

Remus returned the smile, his feelings for the boy evident in his soft brown eyes as he patted Harry's leg through the blanket. "I'm pleased to say you look a great deal better than when I saw you last night, Harry."

"I feel a lot better," said Harry earnestly.

Remus turned his attention to Severus who was standing directly in front of him. Before he could open his mouth to speak, Severus launched into the verbal tirade he had felt the overwhelming need to let loose since Kingsley's tongue-in-cheek comment. Lupin was the perfect target.

"Did I say you could get out of bed, Lupin?" hissed Severus in his most dangerous voice.

If Remus was taken aback by the hostile tone, he hid it well. He smiled his friendly smile and moved back a small step, as he and Severus were practically nose to nose. "I'm perfectly fine Severus. Thanks to your expertise."

"You are never fine, Lupin," bit out Severus nastily. "Fine is  an adjective that I have extreme difficulty connecting with your flea-bitten hide. And I will decide whether your injuries are sufficiently healed for you to be up and about. Now get back to bed."

"Severus, there is no n..."

"Are you a healer, Lupin?" interrupted Severus. Remus's smile slipped slightly and he turned to Albus for support.

"I would advise a hasty retreat, my boy," said Dumbledore. "Get it over with."

Tonks shot a narrow-eyed glare at Snape as she dragged on Remus's arm, and ever one to maintain the peace, he allowed himself to be dragged. He did not allow any offence to show; he was used to Severus's acerbic tongue and he had heard the ‘flea-bitten hide' insult so many times, it was almost a term of endearment.

Harry was also glaring at Snape. Erin could feel the tension in the boy's hand and arm because she still had hold of his hand. She and Professor McGonagall had been talking quietly with Harry while the Black Prince had been remonstrating with Mr Shacklebolt.

Erin had been keeping a surreptitious eye on the tall dark streak of misery she had dubbed ‘The Black Prince'. She had not caught what Mr Shacklebolt had whispered to the man, but she had heard his ill-tempered reply.

She hadn't realised that she had been watching the dour Potions teacher so assiduously as he raked his angry, cold eyes over Geppetto, Mr Moody and Mr Shacklebolt before stalking off after Tonks and her man, until Harry slowly worked his hand out of her grasp.

Professor McGonagall (who was nothing like the Wicked Witch of the West) had been quietly relieved to see Harry so much better and she had been chatting quietly with him and Erin, obviously making a tentative effort to become better acquainted with the young Muggle woman. Now, uncharacteristically, she patted Harry's shoulder.

"Stay strong Harry," she said in a strangely tight whisper, and then, before she walked away, she bent her head to Erin's ear and spoke so quietly, Harry had no hope of hearing.

 An intense look passed between the two women that made Harry practically squirm with curiosity. It looked as if the ‘Keep Harry in the Dark', club was in session again and a new member had been recruited.

Minerva joined her colleagues where they were huddled together at the end of the bed conducting a conversation that was just as quiet and intense as the words that Professor McGonagall had just spoken to Erin.

Harry scowled darkly but Erin didn't immediately notice as she turned back to her young friend. "You gave me such a fright last night, Harry." She perched sideways on the edge of the bed, one leg bent on the cover and the other foot dangling above the floor. Looking directly into Harry's face, she noticed the scowl and thinking that he was remembering the violent assault committed by his uncle, she leaned forward and enclosed Harry within the circle of her arms.

"Oh, Harry, why didn't you tell me that you were being abused in that house? That man should be in prison." And then, realising that she should leave the subject of Vernon Dursley alone, Erin shut up abruptly.

Harry, embarrassed, was squirming to be released and Erin was pleased for the opportunity to steer away from the subject of the Dursleys. "Sorry," she grimaced comically. "I forgot sixteen year old boys have a problem with physical contact by anyone other than a love interest."

She watched, quietly amused as spectacular colour suffused the whole of Harry's face. "I don't have a love interest," he mumbled, looking studiously at his knees. Cho Chang flashed through his mind but she was gone as quickly as she had come-and without the accompanying stomach lurch. He felt nothing other than the vaguest of regrets. That regret hardly registered on Harry's emotional barometer. He and Cho would never have worked because the ghost of Cedric would have always been there between them.

There was also the fact that the Ravenclaw Seeker was too girly-girl for his taste. He had hated Madam Puddifoots and absolutely loathed the cherubs and confetti. If that was what all girls expected their boyfriends to appreciate, then Harry was sure he would never keep a girl interested past a first date. Cherubs and confetti didn't seem to fit in the same framework as Quidditch. Girls were very confusing.

Harry privately thought that it would be a long time before he had another first date. It wouldn't be safe for a girl to get close to him...not with what the future held for him.

He felt a vague regret that he had probably already scaled the dizzying  heights and plummeted to the suffocating depths of the emotional rollercoaster that accompanied a teenage romance. Nothing much registered after the devastation he felt at the loss of Sirius and so the end of his relationship with Cho caused hardly a ripple in his apathetic demeanour.  He felt like he had been living in a fugue since that night at the Ministry of Magic.

He had been aware enough to be immensely relieved and grateful that his friends had survived the horrors of that night. But knowing that they were OK was all the excuse he needed to relegate them all to the back of his mind.

For the first time, letters from his friends had not been anticipated. If they had  written, they would have expected answers and that would have taken too much effort. But of course they had written. The appearances of Ron's newsy missives and Hermione's pages of psychobabble had not excited him like they had done in the past.

But despite his determined indifference, Harry had been vaguely amused by Ron's efforts, aided as he had been by little asides from Ginny that she had obviously insisted her brother record. The end result had been a hotchpotch of Ron's and Ginny's tangled thoughts and observations.

Harry could just imagine how Ron would have had steam erupting from his ears by the time Ginny had left him to write his final salutation. He had finished the letter by telling Harry that Ginny was a right pain in the arse and that he had sent her away with a flea in her ear and told her to write her own bloody letter.

And so she had. Harry had ended up getting a couple of letters from Ginny during the short time he had been at the Dursleys, and unlike Ron and Hermione, she hadn't tiptoed around Harry's bruised sensibilities. She wrote about what was happening at the Burrow at any given time and Harry had not been able to hold back a chuckle or two.

Ginny Weasley was a no-nonsense girl with a brilliant sense of humour. She had written, in exquisite detail how Ron had reacted to her insisting that he add her little comments to his letter. Harry had had a vivid mental image of exactly what had taken place, her descriptions were so perfect.

She had not been afraid to include several anecdotes about things that Sirius had said or done when they had been at Grimmauld place before Harry had joined them last summer. She had segued into these so effortlessly, Harry had finished reading the amusing anecdotes before he thought to feel miserable again. It was obvious that Ginny had been really fond of Sirius.

Neither Ron nor Hermione had been game enough to mention Sirius; Hermione had just wanted to talk about feelings and the fact that she and Ron were there for him if and when he needed to talk.

Ron wrote about Quidditch and Fred and George's shop and the fact that ‘Weasley Wizard Wheezes' was doing a booming trade and that his genius brothers would probably be millionaires by the time they were twenty-five, and that Percy was still the biggest prat under the sun because he still hadn't admitted he was in the wrong about (Ron's words) ‘well...you know?'

Yeah, Harry knew all right. But he wished he didn't.

"Harry?"

Harry looked up. He could tell that Erin was looking at him but even though she was so close, her face was still blurry.

"Can you see my glasses anywhere?" asked Harry, turning towards the bedside cabinet. Erin saw they weren't on the top so she opened the drawer. It was empty.

"They're not here Harry." Harry clucked his tongue in annoyance and threw himself back against his pillows.

"I suppose if I get out of bed, Snape will have a go at me like he did Professor Lupin."

"I haven't known your Professor Snape very long, but I would say that would definitely be on the cards."

"He's not my Professor Snape," said Harry with no small amount of feeling.

Erin raised her eyebrows and Harry continued. "Snape hates me," he said baldly but in a lowered voice so that the people at the end of the bed couldn't hear.

"But he came to your aid," countered Erin, confused.

"Only because Dumbledore made him, I bet." And then almost to himself, he added, "I wonder how Dumbledore knew I was in trouble? The wards wouldn't have been disturbed then because it wasn't wizards who were attacking me."

"I thought Professor Snape was attacking you," observed Erin softly. "I was just about to crown him with my hockey stick and then...nothing. Nothing until I woke up here in this alternate universe and my closed little world tilted on it's axis, never to be righted again."

"I don't really know what happened either. It's all like a dream. Professor Snape being there to help me...and then Remus appeared. I didn't see you until you were unconscious." Harry looked at her with those beautiful green eyes. He looked a little embarrassed. "I think Remus must have stunned you to stop you attacking Snape."

Harry watched the blurry image of Erin draw herself up in indignation. "He couldn't have just grabbed my arm or something," she said angrily. "I was under the impression that Remus was nothing short of wonderful. According to Tonks anyway."

"He is," assured Harry. "He wouldn't have done anything to hurt you. If there had been any other way of stopping you braining Snape, he would have done it."

Erin let out a disgruntled ‘hmmph' but Harry continued thoughtfully. "But then the Death Eaters came and Snape stunned me and I didn't know anything more until I woke up here." He raised his eyes to Erin again. "Remus must have Apparated back here with you."

"OK, Harry, you seem to have forgotten you're talking to a person who, until a few hours ago had no idea that witches and wizards really existed. First of all, what are Death Eaters? And second, what do you mean by Apparated?"

"Perhaps we should leave the lesson till a later time Harry. Breakfasts have arrived and I know Professor Snape would like to examine you afterwards." Neither Harry nor Erin had realised that the congregation at the end of the bed had broken up and that Dumbledore had glided to Erin's side.

Snape too, appeared there. He had obviously finished harassing Remus. "On the contrary, Headmaster. I would like to check Potter out before he eats."

Harry scowled darkly. He was, amazingly, absolutely starving and he had to put up with the stomach churning experience of Snape touching him before he could eat. Chances were he wouldn't be able to hold anything down after that.

"I feel fine," said Harry in what he clearly hoped was a decisive voice. "You fixed me up last night."

"Perhaps you should let Professor Snape do a final check Harry." It was Erin who had spoken and Harry looked at her in surprise. Severus looked down his nose at the young woman before him.

If he was surprised by her support, he didn't let it show. He clearly antagonised the woman, just as she antagonised him and the last thing he would have expected was for her to assist him in any way. Not that he needed help to deal with the brat.

"You were in terrible shape last night Harry, and I can hardly believe looking at you now, the number of injuries that you had. No-one would ever know what had happened to you thanks to your Professor, and if he wants to check you out, just to be on the safe side, you should let him."

"Thank you, Miss Hanson, for your assistance, but I assure you, Potter does not have a choice in this matter. Though it is not a task I relish, I will examine him before he eats."

Erin drew herself up but even rigid with indignation, the top of her head still only reached Severus's chin. "So sorry to have butted in, oh great and powerful physician, but I would have thought a co-operative patient would be an advantage." And with a last furious glare, she stalked off to her bed where Minerva had just placed a tray of food on her table.

Severus stood without moving following this diatribe. He did not understand why this woman insisted on arguing with him. He certainly had no desire to converse with her, even though he knew she was no competition for his poisoned tongue . But where was his intimidation factor when he needed it? In the normal course of events, attractive young women were usually too frightened to even look at him, let alone to talk.

A movement on the bed had his head snapping around. Potter was levering himself further upright.

"Lie down!" he barked and he pulled out his wand and directed the screen that had surrounded Lupin's bed to fly across the aisle and settle around Harry's bed.

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Erin ate her delicious breakfast of eggs and mushrooms perched on the side of her bed. She kept on casting anxious glances towards the other side of the room where the screen blocked her view of Harry and his tormentor.

Tonks was sitting in a chair between Erin and Lupin's beds and Lupin was also sitting on the side of his bed, facing Erin. She studied him surreptitiously between the glances she cast towards Harry's bed. Remus Lupin seemed like a very likable man. He was quite cute too, in a dishevelled, careworn way. Erin could see quite a few scars adorning his thin face, but she thought that they might have been part of what attracted Tonks. Remus had a definite look of a man who needed mothering, though he certainly didn't solicit attention. He seemed to be like Harry in that respect...embarrassed by undue attention. 

At the moment the man looked exhausted, though he had slept the night away. His hair was overlong and greying prematurely, but Erin put him at around the same age as Prince Severus. Quite a number of years older than Tonks though, if she was any judge. But it was obvious the age thing was not a consideration for Tonks, and if Remus was embarrassed by the disparity, he wasn't enough so to consider giving the young witch her marching orders.

Remus had eaten a hearty meal and seemed the better for it but he too kept on shooting covert glances towards the screened bed. Before he had started his meal, he had approached Erin and apologised to her for his having rendered her unconscious the night before.

He had explained that he had arrived at the Dursleys in a panic about Harry and when he had seen a figure poised to strike, he had acted instinctively. It was only after that he realised that she was a woman (not that that would have made a difference in the heat of the moment as she was ready to attack) and that her weapon was a long, strangely shaped stick.

Erin had assured Lupin that she did not bear him any grudges; he had done what he had thought was necessary. But she did point out-with an angry glare across the centre aisle-that  nearly burned twin holes in the screen, that if Remus had let her get on with the task of braining the highly unpleasant teacher of Potions, then they would all have been spared his vicious early morning lambasting.

Remus had offered her a restrained smile in response to this, but Tonks had laughed so uproariously, she had spewed her mouthful of tea halfway across the room in a most unladylike display. Remus had raised an indulgently admonishing eyebrow at her antics.

Tonks explained away her burst of near hysteria as she abashedly followed the path of her tea fountain-spray, drying it with her wand. "This is not just an early morning behaviour, Erin," she chortled. "I think our esteemed Potions Master was in a good mood this morning. He is usually ten times worse than this."

Erin raised her fine eyebrows. "Well, yes...there was also last night, I suppose." She frowned as he spoke in a very soft voice, almost to herself. "If last night and this morning were the norm, I'm surprised that Seismologists don't have more unexplainable activity on their equipment."

Tonks laughed again and when Remus looked confused, she waved her hand about in the air and said, "Muggle thing, Remy. I'll explain later." She drew out her wand and levitated Remus's empty tray into the air before marching towards the office at the end of the ward.

Remus just shook his head at her antics. He pushed his table aside and stood up and stretched. He noticed Erin watching him and smiled at her. "I am not used to staying in bed so long, I'm afraid. My back always gets sore if I remain horizontal for too long. I'm getting old."

"You're not old," disagreed Erin with a warm smile. "You're in your prime."

Remus let out a bark of laughter. "You are very kind, Miss Hanson, but my body thinks it is decades older than my years."

"Tonks doesn't seem to mind," pointed out Erin. "And please call me Erin." Remus looked pleased but he tilted his head slightly in question when Erin's smile took on a teasing edge. "I'm sure your girlfriend has many anecdotes that would disprove your claims of being the possessor of an old body."

Remus's face looked as though it had just been immersed in a can of red paint and Erin laughed-the most natural laugh she had managed since she had stepped into this nightmare.

But she stopped laughing abruptly when she realised what she was doing. She shouldn't be laughing! Her parent's house was gone. Privet Drive was gone. So many people dead, including Harry's aunt and cousin. And what of Pumpkin? She felt so selfish worrying about her cat when so many of her neighbours were dead. Thank God her parents were in Australia! At least she knew where they were-unlike poor Pumpkin.

Cats were resilient though, weren't they? Pumpkin might well be alive. If only she could go and look for her.

Remus noticed Erin's sudden change of mood and he came and sat beside her on the edge of her bed. Tonks had tripped back by now and Remus looked at her significantly and indicated with a slight dip of his head towards Erin's empty tray that she should dispose of it while he talked to Erin.

Tonks looked from Remus to Erin who was studiously studying her hands as she absentmindedly pushed back the cuticles. "I'll just get rid of this tray too, shall I?" and without waiting for a reply, she took off with the tray bobbing along in front of her, her wand held out like a conductor's baton, keeping the tray in the air.

Remus put a hand over Erin's to stop her mangling her cuticles any further.

"I'm very sorry about the loss of your house, Erin," he said consolingly. "And though I apologised for my methods, I'm not sorry that I got you away from Privet drive before you became another terrible statistic."

Erin nodded and threw him a tight little smile. "Well, I  can't say I'm sorry about that either, Remus." She sighed. "I think I might be suffering from a little bit of survivor's guilt. I find it so hard to believe that all of those people are dead because one man lost his temper when his plans went awry."

Erin raised her eyes to Remus's concerned face.  "Why does this Lord Whoever want Harry so badly, Remus? And though he's a gorgeous kid, I don't understand what the big deal about Harry Potter, is?"

Remus sighed and looked across the centre aisle to the screened bed. "That my dear, is a very long story that will take a long time to explain." Remus patted Erin's hand when it looked as if she would try to urge him to tell her Harry's Story now. "I am sure Albus will tell you all that is necessary. The information given to you will be at his discretion I am afraid."

Erin was more than a little peeved with this non-answer, but she shut up when Tonks re-joined them. She had a tall pile of what looked like folded laundry in her hands.

"The house elves have just sent up your cleaned and mended clothes." She smiled brightly and divided the pile, passing Erin what looked like her jeans and her white cotton jumper. She could see a sliver of plum coloured strap from amongst the folds of her jumper and she was sure her bra and knickers were hidden amongst its folds. Remus took possession of a slightly larger pile and with a final pat on Erin's knee, he rose and walked towards the end of the ward.

Tonks indicated the direction in which Remus had gone. "The bathrooms are along that corridor. You can go and shower and change if you like."

Erin jumped off the bed with alacrity. "I would like. Thanks Tonks." and she followed in Remus's footsteps.

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Behind the screen, Harry was levering himself back against the bed head from his fully recumbent position. His mouth was set in a mutinously thin line and he dragged the edges of his pyjama top together and began to button it closed with less than steady fingers.

Severus ignored him as he carefully placed the small crystal he had used as a diagnostic aid back in its drawstring, black velvet bag. He placed it in a pocket within his robes and stowed his wand as well.

"So, can I get up sir?"

"No, Potter. I want you to remain in this bed for the next forty-eight hours..."

"Forty-eight hours!" squawked Harry and Severus quelled the outburst with his basilisk's glare.

"... after that time, I will reassess your condition."

"But I feel fine, Professor," Harry's voice was desperate.

"I will be the judge of how fine you are. You're body has been through a significant trauma. Not to mention your psyche..."

"There's nothing wrong with my psyche!" bit out Harry, leaning forward to bring his face closer to Snape's.

Severus looked back calmly. "I am not suggesting otherwise, Potter. Considering what your uncle has done to you, I have to agree that you are remarkably together." The Potions Master studied Harry's angry face as though he was an insect pinned to a board. "He has always mistreated you, hasn't he?"

Harry stared, totally taken aback by Snape's lack of sneering contempt. He  could not understand why the man wasn't taking every opportunity to debase him now that he had the opportunity, after his, Harry's totally unforgivable foray into Snape's memories earlier this year.

"Um..." Harry cleared his throat and looked down at his bent knees. "Yeah, he's always been violent towards me, but never anything like last night." Harry clenched his fists and his voice was quietly bitter as he continued. "He was like a madman. I thought he was going to kill me. And then I lost consciousness and the next thing I can remember is seeing you."

Severus raised one eyebrow. "One unpleasant experience on top of another, eh, Potter?" Harry's lips quirked but he put up his hand and rubbed it across his mouth and jaw to hide the treacherous movement. His hand encountered a significant growth of stubble.  Harry had not worried about shaving since he had left Hogwarts, and though he usually only shaved his meagre growth about once every three days, his  facial hair had thickened up quite nicely now.

Harry became aware that Snape was watching him feel is bristly jaw. He began to open the screen. "You have toilet and bathroom privileges only Potter, otherwise it is bed rest." Snape pushed the screen back out of the way. "Perhaps you can deal with that poor excuse for a beard while you are there."

Severus turned away but Harry saw a slight smirk twist his lips, and he knew that Snape knew he had made a direct hit. Harry was aware that he had not exactly reached manhood status when it came to facial hair growth. Ron had to shave at least every other day. Still, he hadn't even turned sixteen yet. Ron was five months older than him!

"You are not to be out of bed for more than fifteen minutes, even with bathroom privileges," said Severus, and he began to walk away.

Harry watched his blurry black figure until a thought occurred to him. "Professor," he called out. "Do you know where my glasses are?" Severus halted and turned back. He reached into his robes and pulled out Harry's mangled glasses.

"Lupin found them in your room. They were like that when he picked them up." It was not until Snape handed them over that Harry saw how badly damaged they were. He was appalled. What was he going to do? He needed his glasses! He looked at Snape helplessly.

"Perhaps Professor Dumbledore might be able to do something about them," Snape offered.

"What might I be able to do something about, Professor Snape?"

Severus and Harry turned to find Dumbledore striding towards them with Professor McGonagall by his side. Kingsley and Mad Eye seemed to have disappeared; a fact for which Severus looked remarkably unconcerned.

"Potter's glasses were broken during the attack upon him by his uncle," said Severus.

Albus held out his hand. "May I Harry?"

Harry handed over the twisted wire frames with their broken lenses. The old wizard held them close to his face and studied them minutely, twisting them this way and that.

"Well Harry. I think I can perform some small degree of first aid that will at least enable you to see solid shapes until I organise a visit from Mr Glasson."

"Mr Glasson, Sir?"

"Mr Glasson is Wizarding Britain's equivalent to a Muggle Optometrist, Harry. I do not believe you have ever had your eyes or glasses checked since you became aware that you are a wizard have you?"

"No Sir."

"Well, this is the perfect opportunity." Dumbledore pulled out his own wand and tapped it on one of the broken lenses. Harry saw a momentary flash of intense, white-blue light and heard a slight sizzling noise. "I myself make use of Mr Glasson's services and I believe Professor McGonagall does also."

Dumbledore repeated the process on the other lens and then he set about straightening the fine frame with delicate wand movements that Harry knew he would have been fascinated to see if, in fact, he could see properly.

Harry was handed back a pair of glasses that felt only very slightly lopsided and which had a slight distortion in the right lens that he could put up with for as long as he had to.

"Thank you, sir." Dumbledore smiled and squeezed Harry's shoulder.

"Now Harry. I would like you to eat this excellent breakfast. You need to keep your strength up." Dumbledore moved the table up and he and the two Professors moved away to let Harry get on with his meal.

Harry no longer had much of an appetite. Dumbledore's hand on his shoulder had felt oddly heavy, his smile sad and his voice infinitely weary. Something was wrong and Harry felt very uneasy.

He picked up his fork and poked at the hot fluffy scrambled eggs that had been kept under a warming charm. He looked up and saw the gaggle of adults gathered near Madam Pomfrey's office door. Harry saw that Erin was with them and none of the wizards seemed to be perturbed by her presence...except maybe Snape who was standing slightly apart from the intense discussion that was going on.

Snape's arms were crossed inside his wide sleeves and from the back, he was unrelenting black-his long hair, his flowing robes and his booted feet planted slightly apart on the flagstone floor.  The only thing that differentiated him from a sleeping bat was the fact that he was not hanging upside down.

Then Harry noticed that Snape was not looking at Dumbledore who was talking and tugging lightly on his beard-a gesture that Harry had noticed before when Dumbledore was worried-but was staring at Erin.

Harry poked a forkful of the eggs into his mouth and chewed mechanically without tasting anything. As he kept his eyes on the group, Harry saw Erin reach up and rub the side of her neck under the curtain of her golden-red hair where Snape's eyes seemed to be drilling twin holes.

Erin rubbed a bit harder as if trying to ease an irritation. Then suddenly she stilled and a second later, her head snapped to the side and she found herself staring straight into Snape's bold, black eyes. Snape did not have the decency to look away and Harry saw Erin lift her chin in a defiant gesture. She glared at him for another few seconds before turning back to face Dumbledore. Snape too, turned towards Dumbledore; now that he had thoroughly unnerved Erin.

Harry returned his own eyes to his hardly touched breakfast tray. He threw his fork down and it landed with a clatter against the side of his plate. Why was Snape staring at Erin like that? Her presence didn't seem to be bothering any of the others, so why was Snape so put out with her presence?

The sound of his fork hitting the plate had everyone's heads swivelling in his direction, and then, instead of going back to their private discussion, Harry was surprised when Dumbledore strode towards him and the others followed him. They all looked more than a little grim.

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Harry had watched apprehensively as the adults gathered around his bed. Dumbledore was closest to him. "You did not eat very much, Harry," Dumbledore observed.

"I wasn't hungry after all," responded Harry in a tight voice.

Dumbledore nodded and sighed at the same time. ‘No, I suppose you have picked up on the tension." The old wizard drew his wand and banished the tray-back to the kitchen Harry presumed.

Harry knew he shouldn't be surprised. Dumbledore had always had the uncanny knack of knowing exactly what he was thinking and, apparently, what he was feeling.

Harry felt as though he was a prize specimen in a zoo, what with everyone standing around and staring at him with varying degrees of worry and distress visible on their faces-all except Snape of course, who just looked aloof.

"What's going on, sir?" asked Harry in that same tight voice. Dumbledore perched on the edge of the bed, just as Erin had done earlier.

"Harry, do you remember what happened just before Professor Snape removed you from your aunt and uncle's home last night?"

Harry looked from Snape, to Remus, to Erin and then back at Dumbledore. "Professor Lupin turned up and so did Erin. Professor Lupin stunned Erin because she was going to attack Professor Snape."

Erin and Lupin both looked very uncomfortable as Harry related his memories of the past night.

"You don't remember that the Death Eater's breached the wards, Harry?"

‘Yeah, I do," contradicted Harry. ‘That's why Professor Lupin had to get Erin out of there, otherwise the Death Eaters would have gotten her."

"Indeed Harry. Professor Lupin did what he had to do and we are all very glad of it. Miss Hanson was, unfortunately in the wrong place at the wrong time. But she was there for the right reasons. She came to protect you." Harry thought he saw Snape roll his eyes but he couldn't be sure.

‘Harry, have you not wondered how Voldemort managed to breach the wards...how he managed to by-pass your mother's blood protection?"

Harry was getting really worried now. He had a horrible feeling that he knew where this was going. "Well, yeah. Since I woke up, I have been thinking about it. My aunt and cousin were out of the house, but that can't be why the wards fell because Aunt Petunia has been able to leave the house at any time she wanted to in the past."

"You are quite right, Harry. Even when your aunt wasn't home, number four, Privet Drive was still her home. And as long as you could call home the place where your mother's...'

"I know all this, Professor," interrupted Harry. His tension was rising by the second. "Just get to the point."

"Manners, Potter!

"Mr Potter!"

Snape and McGonagall had spoken together to express their displeasure of Harry's manner but Dumbledore held up his hand to silence them. "I am sorry for the prevarication Harry, but it is never easy to be the bearer of bad news..." Harry's green eyes were wide with apprehension and his face was set and pale.

"The Dursleys were out when the Death Eaters came," said Harry in a constricted voice. "Did they come home while they were still there?"

"No, Harry." Harry scrutinized Dumbledore's sad, lined face. His eyes were devoid of any expression.

"But they're dead, aren't they?" Harry's voice was worryingly matter of fact.

Dumbledore put a gentle hand on Harry's blanket covered knee. "Yes. I'm afraid so, Harry."

The silence that followed this statement pressed in on Harry's ears so thoroughly it seemed to cause a dense fog to form so that it wreathed and swirled around the inside of his skull. He felt like there was a black hole where his brain should be and that it was going to implode at any moment.

Harry knew what Dumbledore had said but he did not know what to do with the information, even whilst it was silently burrowing through to the very centre of his being where it would reside for ever more.

Harry didn't know how long he sat there under the intense scrutiny of six pairs of eyes. He kept his own eyes focused on a patch of blue sky that he could see framed by the small bit of window visible between Tonks and Snape's heads. Dumbledore really had done a great job with his glasses. The window and the patch of sky it framed were as clear and in focus as he had always been used to.

Harry blinked when his eyes began to water in protest against their enforced inactivity. He had done it again. He was now responsible for three more deaths.

"Harry?"

"How come they're dead?" Silence greeted this equally matter-of-fact question and Harry, blinking away the unwanted moisture, dragged his eyes away from the window and focused on the ancient face so close to his own. "They were supposed to be protected by the charm, the same as me."

Dumbledore sighed again. "Harry, your aunt and cousin were not killed by Death Eaters or Lord Voldemort. They were killed in an everyday, albeit tragic, automobile accident. Your uncle survived and is in hospital fighting for his life as we speak."

Erin saw a spark of emotion flare to life at the back of Harry's sad, sad eyes. It was breaking her heart to watch him and to know what he must be going through, and all she wanted to do was gather him into her arms. He looked so damn vulnerable-like a little boy lost.

Earlier Dumbledore had told Erin to maintain her distance until the whole sorry story had been told. She had reluctantly agreed but it was really hard. A quick glance to her side at Professor McGonagall showed Erin that the elderly woman was having a similar problem in holding herself aloof from a child in distress.

Harry was having a really hard time assimilating what the headmaster had just told him. A car accident. Could that possibly be true? He became aware that Dumbledore was speaking again and he tried to focus.

"The accident happened at around 8:20 yesterday evening, Harry. Your aunt and cousin were killed immediately and within minutes, the charm I  was able to create to protect you as a result of your mother's sacrifice was nullified and the wards fell, enabling Voldemort to plan the attack to try and seize you. They would never have been able to find you otherwise-not until you reached your majority or stopped residing at your aunt and uncle's home."

Harry was shaking his head in bemusement. But if his aunt and Dudley were only killed a short time before the Death Eaters arrived...

"How did Voldemort find out so quickly that they were dead?" he asked. "I mean, it must have only been-what...half an hour?"

"Around that time, yes, Harry." Dumbledore stood up and walked to the end of the bed where he stood looking out of the same window at the same expanse of blue sky that Harry had found so fascinating minutes earlier. It was not easy to keep on talking, knowing that he was going to add to this poor child's-for he was still a child even if he was nearly sixteen-misery and guilt. And he, Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore knew that Harry James Potter would take all that had happened during the last twenty-four hours and add it to an insurmountable mountain of guilt. Dumbledore knew that Harry felt responsible for the horrific events that had occurred over the years...events that had ultimately occurred because a mad man had tried to murder a baby boy, but had instead, created his nemesis.

Erin couldn't help herself. She made to move closer to Harry so that she could comfort him when he found out the rest of the horrific details of his day from hell. It had been an horrific day for her as well, but her sufferings were only a fraction of what this poor boy had lived through-just barely.

A large hand clamped around her forearm before she had taken her first step. Erin stared at it, surprised more than shocked. The view of a half inch of pristine white shirt cuff  bisected by a loose, black sleeve was all she needed to see to tell her who that hand belonged to.

She turned to see Severus ‘Black Prince' Snape staring down his overly large nose at her. She lifted her chin and raised her eyebrows in question. His answer was a single shake of his head.

Severus did not release his grip until he felt her relax. Erin rubbed the spot on her arm where his hand had gripped, as she tuned back into Geppetto's explanation to Harry. Severus clenched his fingers in an attempt to dispel the tingle that had taken up residence in his hand as he too tuned back into Albus's voice.

"It appears that one of Voldemort's Death Eaters-an exceptionally observant man-recognised your uncle's car..." And Dumbledore relayed the story that Severus had told him in the early hours of that morning.

Harry's head was spinning when Professor Dumbledore had finished reciting the unbelievable series of coincidences that had led to the Death Eater attack on Privet Drive. Voldemort hadn't killed his aunt and cousin. But it was their deaths that had enabled the attack.

Harry couldn't honestly say that Aunt Petunia and Dudley were his most favourite people in the world. But he had never wanted them dead...never. Uncle Vernon, was a different proposition. He was a pathetic excuse for a human being and Harry realised that he was very bitter that it was he who had survived the accident. If someone had had to die in that car, why couldn't it have been the man who had, by all reports, nearly killed him, rather than his aunt and cousin.

And then Harry felt quite disgusted with himself that he could be wishing for anyone's death...even Vernon Dursley's. "Well, I suppose I should be thankful he beat me up, huh? Otherwise Professor Snape wouldn't have gotten to me first."

Harry was not surprised that no-one responded; in fact, he hadn't realised that he had spoken aloud. Everything was going around and around in his head and he was starting to feel sick and dizzy. He leaned back against his pillows and began taking deep breaths. He shut his eyes. He wasn't interested in seeing the sympathy on the faces of the adults.

Severus watched the boy struggle to keep the little bit of food he had managed to consume, in his stomach. He had lost every vestige of colour in his face and there was a fine sheen of perspiration coating his parchment coloured skin.

 Everyone else had also become aware of Harry's indisposition. Dumbledore looked at Severus who was striding towards Poppy's office. Within twenty seconds he was back.

"Potter," he said, his voice more gentle than Erin had so far heard it. "Sit up."

Harry opened his eyes, but he didn't dare move. If he did, he knew he would throw up all over himself. He was already enough of a freak show without the added ignominy of having everyone witness him performing a technicolour yawn.

Severus sensed Harry's dilemma. He uncorked the phials of anti-nausea potion and calming draught before pointing his wand into the necks of both phials and then putting the tip of the wand against the area of Harry's abdomen where his stomach was located.

Erin watched the ritual with a furrowed brow. But as her eyes remained fixed on Harry and his skin began to pink up and his breathing settle to a more gentle rhythm, she realised that Prince Severus had administered some medicines without Harry having to actually swallow them. The way Harry  had looked, she was sure that if he had tried to swallow anything, he would have brought it straight back up.

Wizards could do the equivalent of inserting a naso-gastric tube and administering medicine without actually inserting the tube. Erin's grandmother had once been unconscious for several days after suffering a stroke and she had been fed and had been given medication through a naso-gastric tube.

"Are you feeling better, Potter?" asked Severus.

Harry nodded tiredly, his head moving lethargically against the crisp pillow slip. He wished everyone would just disappear and leave him alone. He needed to be alone.

"Harry." Dumbledore was speaking again, and his voice sounded regretful. He couldn't have anything else bad to relate, could he? Surely nothing else had happened.

"Harry, I am afraid there is more bad news."

Harry forced his heavy eyelids partially open. That took some effort. Snape must have given him something to make him dopey. Harry wished it had been a bit stronger because he was still totally aware that Dumbledore had more to tell him...more bad news. He was also aware of Snape and McGonagall, Remus and Tonks...and Erin watching him with sympathetic looks on the faces.

Erin Hanson, his one and only Muggle friend. The woman he had only known for a few days and who seemed to have made his well being a crusade. She was brilliant, she really was. And it was great that she was here.

Harry frowned as several thoughts seemed to clunk into place inside his bruised brain. He knew that Remus had had to get Erin out of Privet Drive because the Death Eaters had arrived.

But it was hours later now...over twelve hours and the Death Eaters would have well and truly cleared out. The Order had known about the attack and the Ministry must have known too. Kingsley and Tonks were Aurors after all. There would have been Order members and Ministry officials all over the place. The Death Eaters couldn't have hung around.

So why hadn't Erin been taken back to Privet Drive and Obliviated? It would have been so easy. The Obliviator Squad cleared Muggle minds of sightings of magical phenomena all the time.

So why was she still here? Harry moved his half mast gaze from Erin to Dumbledore. He had never known a Muggle to actually come to Hogwarts before, though he supposed they must have done. Parents of Muggleborns must have occasionally had to come to the school for one reason or another.

And then Harry's torpid brain conjured a truly horrific thought and he forced himself to sit up and open his eyes properly.

"The Death Eaters didn't just leave when they found me gone, did they, Professor Dumbledore?"

Erin and the witches and wizards around Harry's bed exchanged glances, but the ancient headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry maintained eye contact with the amazing young boy in the bed before him.

"No, Harry. You have deduced well."

Harry licked his dry lips. "So, I presume that they destroyed number four and number six-or else Erin would have been taken back home and Obliviated. How many other houses did they destroy during their rampage and how many people did they kill?"