Severus Snape walked furiously in the dungeon corridors, up one, down the next. Marcus Flint was no longer Quidditch Captain. He wasn't even on the team. He was on every probation the school had. He had detentions until the end of time. He was still at Hogwarts. Damnit how can a SCHOOL be corrupt?

It was no simple thing, to expel a student from Hogwarts. The expulsion had to be approved by the ministry, of all things; specifically by the Board of Governors. As such it was nearly impossible to expel a child of any influential family without the family's tacit consent. Unsurprisingly, Mr. Flint had not approved the expulsion of his son. Too bad. Thought Severus. He's leaving. The question of course, was how to convince him without filling any new cells in Azkaban.

Finally Severus wandered into a corridor where Fred and George Weasley were whispering in a corner, a large, heavy-looking bag set down next to them. That'll do. Thought Severus. Yes. Rather perfect, come to think of it. He had to keep up appearances, of course.

“Messrs Weasley. You will come with me. NOW.”

They obeyed with alacrity, and soon the two of them were sitting in surprisingly comfortable transfigured chairs in Severus' office, wondering what, exactly was going on. They ought to have been scrubbing something, by then.

“I have a...proposition for the two of you.” The twins' attitudes immediately changed. One lifted an eyebrow and sat back, looking skeptical, while the other put an ankle on one knee with an air of nonchalance and spoke for both of them, doing an admirable imitation of an unimpressed businessman.

“We're listening.”

“Please do, and carefully. I have a problem that I believe you two could perhaps help me with. You see, there is certain information that I am not free to share with certain individuals. This group includes the entire student body of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. There are also certain actions that I am not free to take as an adult and as a professor of said venerable institution. The two of you are, naturally, free of said restrictions. Do you get my meaning?”

“Loud and clear.” Answered George. The twins were seriously intrigued. The professor had never spoken to them this way before: in fact, he rarely asked anything of anyone. They were quite sure, in addition, that the Potions Master hated them. Was he really asking a favor?

“Very well. Keeping in mind the restrictions placed on me, I ask you to listen carefully as I describe a certain- purely hypothetical- situation.”

Fred let out a breath. This sounded good!

“All right.”

“Good. Let's say, then, that a certain student of my house- let's say, for the sake of argument, a certain very famous first-year, ended up in the infirmary several days ago with some very serious injuries inflicted by another student...”

Fred and George held their breath. They'd been wondering where Harry was.

“Let's say, hypothetically, that a certain professor- let's describe him as an ugly git with greasy hair-”

The twins' eyes grew large.

“-knew precisely who had taken it upon himself to inflict said injuries on said first year – this is all hypothetical, you understand – and could not, as a professor, do anything to remove said detestable individual from the school, or, at least, not through any official, or approved, channels.”

The twins looked at each other and smiled grimly. They knew where this was going.

“Let's say he was also unable to openly tell any students of the incident. Would you think, hypothetically of course, that it would be acceptable for said hypothetical professor to quietly provide just compensation to those students who participated in driving said miserable maggot – let's say, for the sake of argument, a fifth year...maybe the Captain of Slytherin House's Quidditch team... from the school?”

The twins looked at Snape with new respect. “Indubitably, sir.”

Severus cracked a malicious smile. “I'm glad you think so. Never let it be said that Slytherin house doesn't take care of its own. Now, I should add the completely unrelated comment that Slytherin house is a good source for anyone looking to recruit clever, somewhat inscrutable young people eager to help out a housemate. They would, however, need information before doing so. Besides that, you are dismissed, with my thanks.”

George smiled broadly and Fred bowed. “At your service, sir.”

HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP

Later that evening, Harry idled outside of Snape's office door, trying to get up the courage to knock. It was a different sort of nervousness he felt, this time: not scared of what Snape would do, so much as not knowing how he was supposed to act. It's no different from usual. I know a little more, doesn't mean I have to act any different. But how could he act the same, knowing what he did? All his previous reactions to the man had been based on the assumption that Snape had it in for him. Now...maybe, maybe, the man didn't. Three days. He reminded himself, still incredulous.

Besides that, the man had talked to him yesterday – today he would punish him, Harry was certain. The list of his supposed transgressions was long, and Harry found he had no desire to face the man's anger over it. Especially now that...well...I deserve it...if nothing else for what I did to Kallie. Snape would undoubtedly feel that he was punishing him for all sorts of other things, but they weren't important to Harry.

It's his own fault if I scared him. I didn't ask him to 'care'. In fact, he'd told the git multiple times not to; that it was Harry's business whether he put himself in danger or not. Not that the man had listened. So he can just damned well be scared. It's not my problem. Except that Snape, he was sure, would make it his problem. Because he cared.

Remind me why this is something I should want?

Finally, Harry knocked, and was let in to stand as usual in front of Snape's desk, chin up but not (yet) glaring. Snape looked back at him curiously. The boy was still unsettled, somehow.

Good. He shouldn't forget that easily.

“So. You've had some time to think things over. What do you have to say for yourself?”

And, just like that, the glare was back. He's not cursing at me. I'll take what I can get.

“So? Speak, please.”

But we did the talking YESTERDAY. I hate talking. “What is there to say? I broke your rules, you're mad. We did this yesterday.”

“Just that, Harry, just my rules? Just that I'm mad? You regret nothing?”

“No! I- Kallie.” He finally mumbled. Why do I bother to answer? Who cares if he thinks I don't care about hurting her. Who cares if he thinks anything? But he did, somehow. He couldn't let Snape think that he'd hurt Kallie on purpose.

“What about her?”

Harry got angry. “Look, I told her I was sorry. You were there. Just leave it, all right?”

“No. I want to make sure you understand how you hurt her. Do you want it to happen again?”

Something felt tight in Harry's chest. I have to say it? He refused to mince words. You deserve this. Say it. “Fine. I- ordered her-” like a slave. “not to tell I was injured. She asked – begged- me not to order that because she...because for some reason it hurts her to disobey me. I ordered it anyway. I... used... her inability to disobey to keep my secret. But she- she took care of me anyway, and- fought my” abusive “order, and saved my life. Now she's hurt, and it is my fault.” By the end Harry's voice was reduced to a trembling whisper, but then his anger returned. “That good enough for you, sir?”

Well he's not trying to squirrel out of the blame, this time. Severus was impressed, actually, and so heard the pain behind the final anger and chose not to take offense.

“Yes. In fact, that was very well said.”

His words took Harry by surprise, and he found himself blushing and looking away, embarrassed by his rudeness.

“And how about hiding injuries, Harry? What's wrong with that?”

Finally, an easy question. “I disobeyed and lied to you.”

But Snape didn't accept that, for some reason. “Again, all about me. What is wrong with it, Harry?”

What kind of question is that? I disobeyed, I lied. What more does he want?

Severus saw Harry's confusion. “Why don't I ask another way? If I had not forbidden you to hide injuries, and if you had not lied, what would still be wrong with your actions?”

That doesn't help. “Nothing.”

Severus closed his eyes in impatience. “Try, Harry. You are not stupid. A hint – you did not disobey your friends, and yet they are still angry.”

Is he...talking about the same thing Blaise talked about? “It is my business whether I want help or not.”

An edge entered Snape's voice at that. “You are not an island, Harry.”

Harry stared at him. This all makes more sense, now. He's just gone mad. THAT I can understand...

Severus sighed. “You are not nearly as independent as you seem to think. What affects you, affects other people as well. Would you be angry if someone neglected a person or object you valued? If they, say, left one of your books where it would get rained on, or allowed one of your friends to be hurt?”

Duh. “Yeah...”

“By refusing to get help you have mistreated someone who your friends” and I “value greatly.”

He can't... “And yes, Harry, I do mean you.”

No way that's fair. “You can't mistreat yourself.”

“Au contraire, Harry, you have treated yourself little better than Flint did. You would blame me for being angry?”

“Fine, then. I've mistreated myself. By that token, I've also already been punished for it. Even my relatives would approve.” Answered Harry sarcastically.

“Hilarious, Harry.” Snape growled. “Did you honestly think that I would approve of you treating anyone – including yourself – as your relatives treat you? By the way you looked when you got here your relatives would disapprove of us feeding you.”

This conversation had just taken a very dangerous turn. “You know nothing of how my relatives treat me...”

Snape sat back. “I'm all ears. Do tell me of how they treasure you and coddle you and keep you from harm.”

Harry turned his head away sharply, blinking back furious tears.

“Harry you are missing the point. You should know that I would disapprove of anything that was likely to bring you harm. I would be angry about this even if I had not previously set down the rule because you should know better than to treat yourself that way.” Severus walked around the desk to Harry and slowly reached towards his face. Harry watched out of the corner of his eye, but didn't flinch away. Snape just grabbed his chin gently, and forced Harry to meet his eyes. “Nobody. Mistreats. My. Ward. Do you understand?”

Harry just looked at him, complete terror overcoming the momentary fear he'd felt from the physical contact. This can't be happening. He can't...look at me that way, protect me that way. What do I do, now? Besides that, the intensity of Snape's gaze combined with his words meant bad, bad news for Harry. I'm done. I've got my choice between death and lifetime imprisonment in the Slytherin common room. Never going play Quidditch again, never going to explore the Forbidden Forest OR the third floor corridor, goodbye giant squid...

Harry nodded slightly, rasping, “Yes sir.”

Snape released him. “Good. Enough talk. Corner.”

But- you were supposed to ground me! Harry looked at him, pure pleading in his gaze. Without anger to temper the expression, his green eyes hit Severus full force. Please don't look at me that way. Lily had asked him to care for his son. I'm DOING what you asked. It's not my fault it's not in line with what your son wants! “Don't look at me that way.” He managed to sound almost implacable. “It won't work.”

Harry glared momentarily, then hung his head and shuffled over to the corner, his whole posture screaming reluctance and reproach at Snape.

Greasy git. He knows I hate this. I know he does. Thought Harry, feeling seriously put-upon. Another part of him answered that, though. Just as you know why he's doing it anyway. Harry found that this time, Snape being behind him didn't really frighten him. He still really didn't like it, though, and not having the distraction his fear provided didn't make him like the whole experience any better. It just meant he could think better. I don't like thinking. Thinking is bad. Pissing Snape off was a decidedly bad idea. But then I've come to that conclusion multiple times, now, and I never seem to learn.

This was somehow different, though. Usually, if Harry was in the corner, Snape told him for how long he was going to be there, and that he (Snape) would stay at his desk. He hasn't said he won't move, yet. Harry thought it might be okay, though, if he did. Just as long as he doesn't come too close. Bad enough to be stuck here again without him...lurking. But how long was Snape going to leave him in the corner? It would go against everything Harry knew of Snape for the man to be lenient this soon, but he'd never left Harry in the corner for longer than half an hour. Harry also got the impression that he'd never been in this much trouble with the man, before. I'm going to be here forever. Welcome, Harry! You will notice that your new permanent home consists of a corner in Snape's office. Enjoy! Bloody hell. Why couldn't he ground me? Is that too much to ask? Apparently it was.

And so Harry was not surprised when fifteen minutes passed, then thirty. He wasn't happy, however. As usual, too many thoughts took over his head, and he couldn't escape them. Besides that, he was tired and bored and anxious and wanted OUT. How long has it been? Surely he'll let me out soon? When forty-five minutes were over and Snape had not freed him he gave in and turned around towards the Potions master, eyes pleading once more. I'm sorry, okay? Please let me out! Snape just shook his head and motioned for Harry to turn around again. Harry did, but found himself holding back tears. I hate this. God I hate this.

Why am I in so much trouble? He would've understood it if this were about Kallie, but Snape had made it quite clear that this was about Harry. Only it couldn't be. There was just no way that Harry was more important than the house-elf.

But Snape had sounded so fierce about it, when he'd said that nobody was to mistreat Harry. Those two words – 'his ward.' Blaise had mentioned them, too. Clearly they meant something to Blaise and Snape, somehow they connected him with Snape in a way that made Snape scared and angry when Harry was hurt. Which of course led back to him stuck in the corner until the end of the world for putting himself in danger. If this is what he's doing to me, what's he going to do to Flint?

Finally an hour was up, and Severus called Harry out of the corner, trying to ignore the tear-tracks evident on the boy's cheeks. He really, really, hates that...and I'm taking advantage of it. What a wonderful person I am...No, damnit he DESERVES it, and this CAN'T happen again. Turning away from the misery in the boy's eyes, he transfigured the usual desk from a stool he used in his potions lab, and provided Harry with quill and parchment.

“You will write, 'I am important to a lot of people. Allowing myself to be hurt also hurts those who care for me. I will allow others to help me and keep me safe.'”

Harry gave him a strange look before asking neutrally, “how many times?”

“We'll start with as many as you can do in the remainder of this detention, and go from there.”

In other words, this isn't over when this detention ends. He took up the quill and wordlessly started writing. Snape, meanwhile, got up and started moving around in his office, seeming to spend more time behind Harry then not. Well that's bloody annoying. Finally Harry got tired of it.

“You know, sir, short-term-memory loss is a symptom of excessive alcohol or drug use.”

Snape looked over at him, stumped. “I don't follow.”

Harry's voice was very dry. “Well there was a time, sir, when you knew that I preferred you not lurk behind me. Since you have obviously forgotten I would advise you to go easy on the narcotics.”

“I'll take that under advisement,” Snape answered, tone just as dry, and moved back to his desk.

“Thank you, sir.” Harry didn't say for what, but his shoulders relaxed.

At 10:00 Snape looked up and told Harry he could stop.

“You're done, for today. You may return to the infirmary.”

“Yes sir.” Harry said neutrally. That was easily the worst detention EVER. Git, indeed.

“I would also point out that your two weeks of grounding are over.”

That made Harry feel a little better. At least I can go outside.

“And I would add one caveat. You are free from grounding but you will avoid Marcus Flint like the plague. He's no longer Captain and he's on every probation under the sun but he's still here and you don't go near him, understood?”

Would you stop controlling me? “I understand that you can't do anything about him, sir.” Harry said bitterly. “I did warn you.”

Snape clenched his jaw, biting back an angry response. “Not officially, no, I can't.” Too bad for Flint, really.

Harry was confused. “Officially, sir?”

Severus smiled grimly. “Nevermind. You avoid him, am I clear?”

Harry clenched his own teeth. “Crystal, sir.” Understanding is not the same as agreeing, after all...

“Good. You're dismissed.”

HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP

The next day Harry skipped breakfast, instead taking advantage of his new-found freedom to visit the Owlery before class. He spent over an hour just relishing the solitude and Hedwig's soothing presence before sending her and two other owls off with various orders. Kallie likes wearing nice things, and I can't technically give her clothes...hopefully she'll like this. It was all Harry could think of, to get Kallie to maybe forgive him. He thought over what he'd bought, hoping he hadn't forgotten anything. Maybe, maybe, this'll make things better.

Blaise was still a touch cool to him, and Harry got the feeling that that night's detention with Snape would be as unpleasant as the previous one. There was nothing he could really do about them. Madame Pomfrey was slowly coming around, but she wasn't the important one. If only Harry could get Kallie to forgive him, then life could mostly go back to normal. He was used to having detentions; he was not used to the guilt associated with hurting a creature -a friend- that didn't come up to his waist. Realistically, though, he knew that things were unlikely to ever return to 'normal'. In 'normal', Snape was an evil greasy git who hated Harry and spent loads of time planning ways to make Harry miserable. The way things looked now, 'normal' had never existed. Well the greasy git part holds up, at least...damnit I hate thinking.

Eventually Harry went to class, and then to the Great Hall for lunch, where he was greeted with enthusiasm by his friends. Ron and Hermione came by the table to speak with him briefly, as did Fred and George. They were acting strange: Harry wasn't the only person they talked to at the Slytherin table, and everyone they went to glanced briefly at Harry, looking furious. When they moved back to the Gryffindor table, the same pattern was produced. What's going on?

Harry happened to be looking over at Marcus Flint when the older boy took a sip from his goblet and promptly sprouted a spiky emerald-green mane all down the back of his neck and under his robes. People started to titter at that, but apparently the show wasn't over, as following the mane Marcus grew enormous fuzzy green ass ears. The entire room exploded into uproarious laughter as Flint got up, let out a loud, braying hee-haw of distress, and ran for the infirmary.

SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS

Severus Snape waited until the end of his class of third-year Gryffindors and Slytherins before asking in his most menacing tone,

“Who among you had the audacity to adulterate Flint's drink this morning? I want names!”

Fred and George Weasley looked at each other, shrugged, and both threw up a hand.

“It was us, sir!” Even the Gryffindors' heads whipped around at their enthusiastic admission. Had the Weasley twins finally gone mad?

Snape's tone didn't change. “And you used what?”

“Essence of Asinus for the ears, mane, and voice, emerald dragon skin for the color, and Doxy eggs to make it last, sir.”

“Expensive ingredients,” Snape commented. “Difficult to obtain even by wealthy wizards. Might I inquire where you two got them?”

“From your stores, sir.” George answered proudly. “I can pick locks.”

“Interesting,” drawled Severus, giving George a real glare. Students from both houses held their breaths, sure that the twins were about to meet their deaths. Severus leaned over the desk menacingly, peered into Fred's cauldron and spoke, his tone dripping with cold fury. “What do you call that color, Mr. Weasley?” The twins were unaffected.

“Hmm...probably robin's egg-blue. Or perhaps aquamarine. What do you think, George?”

“Definitely aquamarine.”

Severus raised his voice. “Are you illiterate, or was the potion not supposed to be pale yellow at this stage, gentlemen?”

“It was. This is prettier, though, sir.”

Severus spoke clearly, making sure that he could be heard all over the room though he spoke only to Fred. “That is the worst batch of this particular potion that I have ever seen. You are a complete cretin and your potion is worthless.” He then looked around fiercely until he knew he had every students full attention before he continued.

“However, I quite agree- the color is lovely. 15 points to Gryffindor.” Jaws dropped in shock, then closed as comprehension started to light in the eyes of the more intelligent students. Severus stood up and took the moment to look around at the class. “Any questions?”

Several of the students, especially those in Slytherin, cracked grins– by then it was well known what had happened to Harry, and many in Slytherin AND Gryffindor had wanted to know who had perpetrated it. One of the Slytherins spoke for the class. “I think we got the message. Would you like us to share it, sir?”

Severus cracked a grin of his own, and several students shivered. “That would be much appreciated, thank you, Miss Caldwell.”

HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP

By the time Harry arrived back at his dorm just before dinner, someone had placed a very interesting sign on the outside of the door to the Slytherin common room. After reading it through, Harry felt a strong hunch, and ran to the Gryffindor tower. Sure enough, posted boldly on the door was an identical sign.

It said simply:

World War III:

Points awarded for creativity, difficulty, and overall effect
of pranks on the person of Marcus Flint.

Winner announced when the previously
mentioned bullying arsehole leaves the school.

Gryffindor: 15 – Fred and George Weasley

Slytherin: 0

There was even a photo of the green donkey next to the entry on Fred and George. Harry stared in disbelief. He could think of only one person who could be awarding points for this, but that was...ludicrous. Snape giving Gryffindors points? For messing with a Slytherin? He'd said he couldn't officially do anything about Flint...

When Harry finally walked into the Great Hall, he noticed Flint walking uncomfortably out, again en route to the infirmary. He was still bedecked with green ears, but now sporting a bright purple mane, and small orange polka-dots that were quickly swelling into oozing, painful zits.

He returned to the Slytherin common room an hour later and, sure enough, the sign now read:

World War III:

Points awarded for creativity, difficulty, and overall effect
of pranks on the person of Marcus Flint.

Winner announced when the previously
mentioned bullying arsehole leaves the school.

Gryffindor: 15 – Fred and George Weasley

Slytherin: 10 – Rosalind Lebeaux

She's a prefect. If she feels safe doing that...Harry went to detention with a lot on his mind.

HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP

Severus watched Harry as he came in, noting the boy's mixed confusion and anxiety. I can't protect him if he won't tell me when he's hurt. He reminded himself. He met Harry's eyes before motioning with his head towards the corner. Harry didn't move, just stared at him in mute horror. Again?? No! No, no, no!

“Harry you cannot have thought you this was over yesterday. I told you before that if you hid injuries from me, it would be at least a week of detention or the equivalent. I'm not going to give you more detentions, but you will be punished for your actions. Now go.”

Harry sent him a look that was equal parts glare and plea.

“I know. I'm an evil greasy git. That does not, however, change your position. Go.”

Can we skip the detentions and go back to grounding? Pretty please? Grounding sounds positively fun right about now. Nevertheless, Harry went, still thinking about signs on common room doors. Maybe it was McGonagall? But how would she have found out that it was Marcus Flint, if Snape had not told her? She wouldn't go this route. She'd assign him miserable detentions for every little thing, she wouldn't start an inter-house competition. The thought made him grin briefly. Points for creativity. That's brilliant.

Fifteen minutes later Harry stiffened and turned all the way around. Snape looked at him soberly.

“I don't think so, Harry. I'm just getting a book. Turn around.”

But you're supposed to stay put!! Harry met his eyes stubbornly. I'll turn when you're back at your desk. But Snape didn't move, just staring at him calmly. “I'm waiting- Ten.”

No! No counting. I hate COUNTING!! “Nine.” Harry locked his knees and kept the eye contact.

“Eight.” What'll he do if I don't turn?

“Seven.” I'll just wait and see. No problem. No-

“Six.”

Snape raised his eyebrows in silent order. “Five.” OKAY!! Okay, okay, fine! Harry dropped the eye contact and turned. Coward. Scared by stupid counting. That counting was somehow scarier than Snape being behind him, and now that the battle of wills was over it took less than thirty seconds for Snape to grab his book and sit down again.

It didn't matter, though: Harry shook with tension. The corner thing made him anxious at the best of times, and being stressed and full of adrenalin from the power struggle made this anything but. Stupid. Stupid stupid stupid. You just had to make it worse, didn't you? Couldn't just let it be, let him get his stupid book; you've got to make an issue of it. Now you're back to imitating a hunted rabbit. He's not even moving anymore and you're all stressed out.The last time Harry'd been this freaked out he'd at least been allowed to face out for awhile. Damnit he's not going to do anything! Get over it!

Severus watched Harry shake, feeling idiotic. Too much, too soon. Should've let him watch me. He spoke slowly and quietly from his place by the desk. “Harry, I'm not moving. You're all right.”

Harry took a deep breath. See? He's not even angry. RELAX already, stupid. Eventually, the adrenalin stopped coursing through his body, and he did. And promptly returned to normal I-hate-the-corner mode: bored, and anxious, and full of self-recrimination. Great. I act stupid, and make it worse, and I finally manage to calm down and guess what? More corner. Always more corner. Stupid, stupid, stupid. But what could he have done differently, really? Does he honestly want me to report to him every time something hurts? It was unreasonable. You scared him. He remembered. Stop scaring him and maybe he'll stop making your life miserable.

Half an hour passed, then forty-five minutes, as Harry shifted from foot to foot and fiddled and tried to relax and mostly succeeded. The events of the last several days ran over and over in his mind as Harry tried, once again, to comprehend it all. Being in the corner should have helped – it sort of trapped him in his own mind – but for the moment all he got was confusing, disturbing, and hurtful images.

Harry was well aware that Blaise was still angry at him, but the other boy was at least talking to him and so Harry was able to keep him out of his head. Unfortunately, thoughts of Snape and Kallie were more than enough to keep Harry miserable without him. He'd have to go see Kallie at some point, to try again and get her to forgive him, but he felt he couldn't face her. Maybe his peace offering would help, once it came...

And Snape. Snape who had not punished him for painting his door, but had put Harry here, in his most hated spot, for hours just because he'd put himself in danger. Greasy git. But then...sometimes it was nice that he was a git. He scared off caretakers and (MAYBE it was him) recruited members of an entire school to get rid of somebody who'd hurt 'his ward.' I could have dealt with it myself. The man acts like it's the first...or last time I got beat up. It happens. He should just get off my back about it. The man had literally ordered him away from Flint! Like Harry was just going to sit around and let others deal with the wanker!

Finally, finally the hour was up and Snape called Harry back to the desk. Harry looked up at him resentfully but sat down where he was told and picked up the quill. He wrote his lines for the first hour in silence, but finally couldn't stand it anymore. He had to ask.

“Sir?”

“Yes?”

“Did you -” He decided to just spit it out. “Are you giving points for pranking Marcus Flint?”

Snape smirked. “Of course not! I would lose my position if I were caught doing such a thing. I give points for good work in my class, nothing else. Fred and George Weasley managed to produce a beautiful potion this afternoon, and Prefect Lebeaux lit the brazier under her cauldron this morning.”

“Isn't she a sixth year?” Harry asked, amused despite his earlier resentment. The first-years learned that in their first week.

“Lao Tzu once said, “Great acts are made up of small deeds.” Responded Snape defensively.

“Of course. Clearly she's headed for greatness. My mistake.” Harry smiled a little and went back to his lines, curiosity appeased but confusion still growing. He gave Gryffindor points? And for the WEASLEY TWINS? Snape took points from Gryffindor. He did not give them. Even the Slytherins knew that he was biased. Most also knew that he and the twins were practically nemeses. Strange.

HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP

The next morning Hedwig and two other owls swept down on Harry, each carrying a parcel. Hedwig carried a long tube, which Harry figured was probably the wrapping paper. Of the other two, one carried a medium-sized paper-wrapped parcel, and the other a large box tied with string. Harry gulped. He'd been planning on taking his gift to Kallie as soon as the packages came, but he'd expected it to take more time. After class. He told himself. I'll do it after class.

Eventually his last class ended and Harry headed down to the dungeons to put everything together and wrap the awkward package as nicely as he could. He had a lot of experience, from wrapping Dudley's gifts, and so managed relatively well. He'd managed to find some cool wrapping paper in a wizarding stationary catalog – it had a pattern of swirly flowers that slowly moved around each other in a way that could have been dizzying, but was somehow just cheerful and pretty. That looks okay...now I just have to bring it to Kallie. He wished he could just send a friend with it, or something, but, as he was there to (once again) ask for forgiveness, he'd have to do it himself. This seemed like such a good idea, yesterday...

Finally Harry got up his courage and headed over to the kitchen. It wasn't far, and soon he found himself in front of the fruit painting. Before he could lose his nerve, he tickled the pear and went inside. As usual, several house-elves met him a the door, but they didn't look happy to see him, today. Kallie wasn't among them.

“Could I talk to Kallie, please?” Harry asked tentatively.

“If she is willing.” Answered the head house-elf tersely.

“Yeah that's- that's fine. If she doesn't want to see me...she doesn't have to.” Answered Harry, a lump in his throat. He hadn't thought she might refuse to even see him.

The elf disappeared, reappearing a moment later with Kallie, and shooing off all of the other elves. Kallie looked at him expectantly, face still bruised. Harry flushed and looked at the ground.

“I-I brought you something.” He mumbled, putting his colorful burden down in front of her and kneeling beside it. “I'm really sorry.”

Kallie looked up at him wordlessly for a moment, then bent down to unwrap the package. Inside was a sewing kit that Harry had constructed, buying a pretty, fabric-lined basket, several sizes of needle and colors of thread, several yards of several different colorful fabrics, and a book of sewing patterns that could be adapted for various sizes.

“I didn't think-well I hoped- you still didn't want me to give you clothes, but I noticed that you like wearing nice things.” Kallie looked the items over slowly as Harry found the courage to speak, still barely looking at her. “Look, I'm really, really sorry. I never meant – you never have to obey me, okay? If you really want to disobey me then- then that's what you should do. You – you shouldn't hurt yourself just because I- 'cause I was stupid.” He finished lamely.

Kallie just looked at him, considering. This is stupid. How could she forgive me? I wouldn't forgive me! Harry pursed his lips to keep them from trembling, but nothing stopped the tears that started to fall. Please. I didn't mean to. I really, really didn't.

Finally Kallie's face softened. “Oh, Master Harry sir. Kallie is okay, sir. No need to be so upset.”

Harry sniffed, still wary of looking at her, and her voice took on its usual tart character. “Would Master look at Kallie please?” Harry looked up. “Kallie is forgiving Master Harry, yes? You is okay!”

Harry smiled a little bit, more convinced that Kallie didn't hate him now that she sounded like herself.

“Master is very clever, sir! Gives Kallie clothes without giving Kallie clothes! Kallie very much likes her present, sir!”

Harry's smile broadened. “Thanks, Kallie. I'm- I'm glad you like it.”

“Now,” she said briskly, carefully packing the fabric and supplies back in the basket, “Master must eat something before he leaves. Would he like a Pumpkin Pasty or some shepherd's pie?”

“Pasty, please.” He answered. His voice sounded resigned, but he was smiling hugely. Kallie was back!