Harry remained stubbornly silent, unwilling to meet Snape's eyes, knowing full well what he would see in them-anger and disappointment.  He knew perfectly well that he had behaved like an irresponsible idiot, risking his neck for a forbidden flight in a rainstorm, he knew he had acted just like the toddler Snape had compared him to earlier, and that he deserved every stinging word of sarcasm and condemnation Severus was going to level at him.  He knew . . .but that didn't keep a small part of him from resenting the older man.  The resentment had its roots in his childhood, when he was punished for everything by the Dursleys, whether or not it was his fault.  Growing up at Privet Drive, he had never been allowed to express said resentment, but in school it was different.

And he had almost always resented Snape punishing him because the man had been unfair.  That was no longer the case, Harry knew that he more than deserved whatever Severus was going to do to him, but old habits were hard to break and harder to forget. So, without quite realizing it, he fell back into his old patterns, and remained sullen and uncommunicative, staring at the floor while Severus fumed.

"Mr. Potter! Might I remind you that we are not at school, and you promised to obey me without question on this journey? And instead I find you doing one of the most foolish things imaginable after I had specifically forbade you.  Explain yourself!"

That tone made him bristle, and before he could think better of it, he blurted sullenly, "What for? You won't listen to what I say anyhow, so what's the use of talking?"

Severus glowered, not liking the boy's tone or attitude.  "Talking about it might mitigate what punishment you earn, Potter.  Or do you want me to assume that you acted like an impulsive harebrained idiot and flew into a storm for no reason whatsoever?"

"No . . .but you'll think so anyway once I tell you," he muttered to his trainers.  He did not know how Snape managed to do it, but he made Harry feel like he were five again and had just been caught sneaking back to his cupboard with a piece of cake, which had been a major transgression in the Dursley household. 

"Well? Shall I count to three, Mr. Potter, as I would do if you were a two-year-old?" Snape growled. 

Harry flushed. "I'm fifteen, not two!"

"Your actions today were closer to those of a toddler than a teenager, Mr. Potter!" cried his guardian.  "This is your last chance."

"Okay!" he gave in, figuring that things couldn't get any worse.  "I wasn't planning on disobeying you, sir, but . . .I was going nuts in here and I really needed to get out so I just . . .I transformed and flew up the chimney.  I didn't know the rain would be that hard and I thought the wind had calmed down some, since Hedwig was able to fly in it and she said it wasn't as bad as it sounded."

Severus whirled upon the dozing owl, blurring into Warrior so he could understand Hedwig's reply.  Damn it, bird! How could you bloody encourage him to go flying during a storm like that? And here I thought owls were supposed to be wise!

The snowy owl glared at the goshawk. Do not presume to blame me for his recklessness, Warrior! How was I to know he would do something so stupid? He is supposed to be your apprentice, why didn't you keep a better watch upon him?

I was working on a difficult translation! snapped Warrior defensively.  I wasn't aware he needed minding like a bloody two-year-old!

"Hey! I am right here, you know," pointed out Harry, and then immediately wished he'd kept his mouth shut.

Because now he had two pairs of eyes glaring at him in sharp disapproval.

You went flying during this storm, Harry? Hedwig chirruped in alarm, she was sitting alertly atop the cold stove, giving Harry a reproving look from her large amber eyes.  What were you thinking of, you foolish fledgling? You might have broken your wings again or worse!

Now Harry felt even more ashamed.  But he turned and snapped at Hedwig to ease the sting.  "Hey, you were the one who told me it wasn't that bad out for flying!"

The snowy owl puffed herself up and gave a sharp squawk.  I meant for a seasoned flyer like myself, you impudent fluffbrain, not a mere fledgling who has been flying only a few months.

"I'm a good flyer, Hedwig!"

Not good enough to fly during a thunderstorm.  That takes years of practice and you are not up to that standard yet.  Now quit giving me cheek, and trying to blame me for your own blunders! You chose to go out and risk your own neck, Harry James Potter, so if you want to place blame-blame yourself! She hissed pointedly, and then she abruptly turned her back on him, clearly disgusted.

Severus had remained stonily silent while Hedwig scolded her wizard, though he could not understand the owl all that well now that he had resumed his human form, he could get the gist of what she meant, and it was plain the wise owl heartily disapproved of her young master's decision to risk his neck out of boredom.  Severus was furious.  Did the boy not comprehend what it would mean if he died? Did he not understand that such behavior was not only childish but unacceptable? That he was important, not just to fulfill the prophecy, but because Severus cared about him? I have lost too many that I care about, I will not lose him too! Especially not to some damned stupid stunt! He is my responsibility, I cannot fail again.  Not again!

"Foolish incorrigible brat!" he snarled, and his hand flicked out, delivering a smart smack to the back of Harry's head.  A puff of soot hovered in the air afterwards, and Snape grimaced and rubbed his hand on his robes.

Harry flinched, but made no move to get away from the irate professor, more proof that he understood the wrong he had done.  "I'm sorry, Severus."

"Sorry for what? Sorry that you got caught? Sorry that you disobeyed me? Sorry that you behaved like a bloody idiot? Very good, Potter! You ought to be sorry, because being bored is no excuse to risk your life.  How many times must we go through this before it sinks into your stubborn skull? What part of do not put yourself in unnecessary danger do you not understand? Must I make a sign and hang it around your neck before you comprehend the seriousness of your actions? I had thought after Umbridge and your ill-fated Animagus accident that you would have finally tamed that impulsive streak of yours and learned to look before you leaped.  But no, once again you jump headlong into action without stopping to think of the consequences."

"It . . .it wasn't like that, sir!" Harry protested, absently rubbing his head.  "I just wanted to get out for a bit.  I didn't know it wasn't safe to fly."

"And what, pray tell, was wrong with using your own two feet? You could have gone for a walk instead of flying.  And don't give me that line about not knowing it wasn't safe-you have eyes, you could see the storm was still raging outside." Severus pointed out mercilessly.

"Okay, I was stupid! Is that what you wanted to hear?"

"Mind that tone with me, Mr. Potter.  You ought to know by now I don't tolerate such attitudes from anyone, especially my ward.  If you weren't prepared to face the consequences of your actions, you shouldn't have disobeyed me in the first place.  I had hoped after last term that you would have learned to behave more responsibly, but I suppose I was mistaken." His guardian shook his head in disgust. 

"I'm not allowed to make mistakes? I'm supposed to be this perfect obedient little pansy?" Harry snapped.  Snape's disappointment cut him worse than a whip and he reacted to it by going on the defensive.

Severus opened his mouth to deliver one of his more scathing remarks, but then paused.  For some reason, he just wasn't connecting with the boy, and Harry's sullen and smart attitude was irritating him beyond belief, but he didn't want the quarrel to degenerate into a shouting match.  Don't let him push your buttons, Severus.  You're the adult, remember? He reminded himself.  Though Harry had matured quite a bit over the last half a year, he was still a teenager, and never was Snape more reminded of that fact than now.  He took a deep breath, then said, in a controlled tone, "You and I both know that perfect is an ideal and no teenager anywhere can live up to it, nor can any adult, for that matter.  I do not expect it from you, Mr. Potter.  What I do expect is a willingness to own up to your mistakes and face consequences and realize that when I issue refusals I am doing so for your own safety, not because I am being mean or because I enjoy driving you crazy.  Do you not understand what it would mean if you died doing something so foolish?"

"Yeah.  You wouldn't be able to complete the prophecy and kill Voldemort."

"Hang the bloody prophecy!" Severus swore.  "Your life is worth more than any prophecy, Harry, and I want to see you live to grow up, not to die in some idiotic stunt because you were bored! It is my responsibility to keep you safe, but you need to assume responsibility as well for your own good.  Or do you wish to be known as The-Boy-Who-Only-Lived-To-Be-Fifteen?"

"No." Harry squirmed under that eagle-eyed gaze.  Now he felt guilty on top of feeling ashamed.  He hadn't meant to make Severus worry, but sometimes it was hard to remember that he now had an adult in his life who actually cared whether or not he put himself in danger.

"Good.  As I've said before, you need to start valuing your life, Mr. Potter, and stop flinging yourself into danger, because one day it is bound to catch up with you.  You are not invulnerable, fledgling, and the last thing I need is to have to bury another whom I care for." Snape cleared his throat, which had gone strangely hoarse for a moment, then continued.  "You've broken my trust with your actions, Mr. Potter, and that is not something I give lightly.  I trusted you to act maturely while I worked on the notebook, that I did not need to watch you every minute to ensure you were behaving yourself.  It would seem I was wrong, and you need constant supervision, like a naughty two-year-old."

Harry flushed.  "No!"

"No? Tell me something, Mr. Potter.  If you were in my position, as a guardian, and your ward had continually flouted and ignored your authority, what would you consider an appropriate punishment? How do you think you would react?" Before Harry could reply, Severus spun about and headed towards the door of the tiny house. "Think about that, Mr. Potter.  Think long and hard.  I will expect an answer upon my return."

"Where are you going?"

"For a walk."

"But . . .it's raining!"

"So? I know a spell to keep the rain away." Severus said shortly, then he muttered it before stepping out the door.

Harry just stared at the closed door, unsure of what to think.  Had he heard correctly? Had Severus Snape, the ultimate disciplinarian, just asked him to choose his own punishment? What was up with that? He was almost certain he had heard right.  Why would Severus ask that? Harry was sure his guardian would have no trouble whatsoever coming up with ways to punish Harry for acting like an addlepated fool.   He'd been a teacher for over sixteen years, he knew how to get creative and make the punishment fit the crime. 

"Huh? I don't get it," he muttered aloud to Hedwig. "What did he mean, think about what you would do?"

It seemed pretty clear to me, Hedwig hooted, ruffling her feathers.  He wishes you to think about how you would feel were you in his place and what type of punishment you ought to get.  If I were you, I'd start thinking about it. And you're lucky I'm too tired to nip your ear like you deserve.

"Who do you think you are, my mother?"

Merlin forbid! My feathers would have all fallen out by now, with the way you fly into danger like some nitwit starling! But I do care very much about you, and so does Severus.  Do consider what he said, fledgling, it was not an idle question.

"I know that, but why would he need my input? He's never let me choose my own punishment before."

Hedwig began to preen herself, saying inbetween smoothing her primaries, Perhaps he wishes you to take more responsibility for your own actions, after all, you're always insisting you're old enough to make your own decisions. 

"Oh.  I . . .guess that makes sense," her wizard conceded reluctantly.  He turned and sat down on the bottom step of the staircase, his chin in his hands.  Crazy as it sounded at first, Harry had to admit that the Slytherin's command was causing him to reflect more than normal about his actions, and not only regretting that Severus had caught him, either!

He had never before put himself in the position of a guardian or a father figure, and it was kind of strange to consider his behavior from that viewpoint.  He knew it angered Severus when he did something risky, but he had never thought about why Severus was angry, except for perhaps the simple reason that Harry had disregarded his orders.  But now that he was sitting and thinking about it, he realized that Severus was angry because he was afraid.  Afraid to lose him to death's unforgiving embrace.  What had Snape said? You are not invulnerable, fledgling, and the last thing I need is to have to bury another whom I care for.

Harry felt both humbled and cherished when he thought about what Severus had said.  He also realized something else.  Severus loves me.  Like a father would a son.  His guardian had never said the words aloud, but Harry knew he was not mistaken.  Looking back, he could see now that ever since the signing of the guardianship papers, Severus had been treating him more like a son and less like a student. 

Oh, Merlin! I really screwed up big time.  He's been trying to be a father to me and I just acted like a total git to him.  Now he really regretted his foolishness and began seriously thinking about what he would do if he were Severus and his son had behaved so badly.

I'd be angry too if my son had just done something that dumb, and it really was stupid the more I think about it, though at the time all I was thinking about was getting out from this damn house, it reminded me way too much of my cupboard, and besides the dark, I detest small spaces and being confined.  Still, I should have been smart and gone for a walk, who cares if it was raining? I used to garden in the rain plenty of times and once when Dudley locked me out of the house, I even spent the night in a tree next to the shed in the rain.  Of course, that was the summer I also got bronchitis . . .But I'm rambling . . .Can you ramble to yourself? Guess so, since I've just done it.  Okay, Harry, stop going off on a tangent and keep on the subject.

He grimaced, for that particular subject wasn't one he wished to dwell on, but nevertheless . . .I owe Sev an apology big time and I ought to kick myself in the arse good for acting like a smartass to him before, I know better, damn it! Why do I act like that around him sometimes? I don't mean to, but I just . . .forget sometimes that he's not the snarky teacher I used to dislike so much, but my friend and guardian and . . .almost like my father.  Especially when he gets all in my face and starts giving me what for.  He sighed.  But he's supposed to do that when I screw up, that's what parents do, they tell you where you went wrong so you don't keep making the same mistakes over and over.  Guess I'm just not used to having somebody around to tell me that when I need it.  But I'd better get used to it. He's only trying to keep me safe, but safe isn't something I do well at all.  I'm used to keeping other people safe, not myself.  Another thing I have to work on. 

He chewed his lower lip and considered what he ought to do so he didn't keep repeating that same silly mistake over and over.  Finally, he came up with a suitable punishment, just as the door to the shack opened and Severus walked back inside.

"Well, have you thought about what I asked you to?" were the first words out of Severus's mouth after he had entered.

"Yes, I have. And the first thing I need to do is apologize for snapping at you that way, sir." Harry said honestly, standing up and meeting his guardian's eyes.  "Sometimes I forget . . .that you're trying to help me, not just being mean and nasty when you get on my arse for something.  Anyway, I'm sorry and I'll try to control myself better."

"Apology accepted," Severus said.  "And the other?"

"I thought about that a lot . . .and I'd be mad too if my kid had done something so dumb, and I know I deserve to get in trouble, but I kind of have a problem with small spaces ever since my aunt and uncle started locking me in the cupboard under the stairs.  It's not an excuse, I know, but . . .I wasn't going flying just to make you mad, I really needed to get out of this house, Severus, and I just . . .did the first thing that came into my mind.  I love flying and so I just became Freedom and went out on the roof.  I knew the minute I felt the wind that I was an idiot, that I should have listened to you . . ."

"True enough.  I am glad you realize that now." His expression shifted from disapproval to a kind of concern as he said next, "Are you aware that you might suffer from claustrophobia, Harry?"

"Claustrophobia?" Harry repeated stupidly.  He called me "Harry", that must mean he's not totally wanting to trounce me anymore. He felt extremely relieved, for being stuck in a tiny house with an angry Severus Snape was not a good thing.  At all.

"It's a fear of small or confined spaces-"

"I know that, Sev.  I just never really thought I had it, I mean I don't go all to pieces when I'm in a closet or a shower or something."

"You might not have an acute form of it, but what you just told me suggests you may have a lesser degree of it," Severus surmised.  "In light of that, part of your reaction to being cooped up here is understandable."

"But not all of it."

"No, not all of it.  Well? Have you thought about what you would do in my situation?"

"Yeah."

"Tell me then."

"Part of my problem was that I was bored stiff.  So I think that making me study something useful, like some Ancient Runes or maybe even some healing techniques, and write an essay, would help me get over that and might even save my life or yours if one of us happens to get hurt on this mission."

Severus nodded.  "An intelligent concise solution.  Go on."

Harry sighed, he really didn't like this next part.  "For disobedience and disrespect, I should do something mindless and constructive . . .like scrub the floors and the fireplace without magic, just soap and water and a scrub brush.  And just so you know, I hate scrubbing floors.  Aunt Petunia used to make me scrub every floor in the house for hours till my hands blistered with vinegar and water."

Severus scowled at that.  "I am not your aunt, Merlin forbid I should be compared to her.  Anything else?"

Harry made a face.  This was the part he totally dreaded.  "And since I did act like a . . .two-year-old and I keep acting like one, I should be made to stay within your sight for the next three days, and that should remind me not to be so impulsive because I really really hate being watched that way." I cannot believe I said that.  What was I thinking, giving myself punishments that I hated? Am I totally cracked or what?

"And do you think that is a reasonable consequence for your behavior?"

Harry nodded. 

"Good.  Then those consequences are what you shall face." Severus declared.  "Since they are ones you chose yourself, I sincerely hope that you learn from them." He waved his wand and a very large bucket of soapy water and a scrub brush appeared on the floor.  "You may begin on the floor first, if you wish, or your essay."

The Animagus grimaced.  "The floor, I guess. But before I do, can I ask you something?"

"You may ask me something," the professor corrected.

"Did you ever figure out the code in the notebook?"

"Yes, I did.  In fact, I was coming down here to tell you that when I discovered you missing."

"Oh." My timing sucks.  If I had waited a few more minutes, I wouldn't have gone and gotten into trouble, Harry thought ruefully. "That's great, Severus! Now you can translate the notebook."

"Yes, but I think I will take a nap first." He turned to go upstairs. Adding over his shoulder, "Don't wake me if you come upstairs to start your essay.  You can scrub the attic after dinner."

Harry rolled his eyes, muttered a "Yes, sir," and flicked his hand in a mock salute when his guardian's back was turned.

Incorrigible fledgling! Hedwig scolded.

Harry looked up at her, his eyes twinkling impishly, and said, "Hey, that's what Sev calls me.  Stealing his lines now?"

If the name fits, why shouldn't I use it? Hedwig hooted, her eyes closing lazily. Better start on that floor, fledgling, it won't get any cleaner by you staring at it.

"Merlin, but you do sound like my mother! Ugh!" Then he heaved a giant sigh that seemed to come from all the way down by his feet and picked up the scrub brush.

* * * * * *

An hour later, Harry's back was aching and so were his knees, from crawling about on the floor scrubbing back and forth.  You just had to pick the floor to scrub, didn't you, Harry? He thought glumly, wielding the brush industriously in spite of himself. I HATE scrubbing the floor.  But I was the one who thought of it, so I can't complain, he groaned silently. Next time I'll tell Sev I hate dusting or whatever.

He found that the water in the bucket both magically refilled itself and remained clean no matter how many times he dunked the dirty scrub brush into it.  He had shoveled and scrubbed the fireplace free of ash and soot first, and now was doing the floor.  Funny how the floor had seemed tiny when he was pacing it two hours ago, but now it seemed humungous when he was scrubbing it on his hands and knees.

He paused and swished the brush about in the soapy bucket, then leaned back on his heels to rest for a few minutes.  The only good thing about this punishment was that he had no Aunt Petunia hovering over him, waiting to give him a good cuff if he missed a spot, and no Dudley either to knock over the bucket and track mud across the floor he'd just cleaned on purpose. 

He peered down at the spot of floor he had just washed and frowned, for it was the spot where the hellhound had died, leaving an unsightly black smudge on the wooden floorboards. "Blast and damn! It's still there!" he growled irritably.  "Stupid demon dog! Can't even die and not leave a mess for me to clean up.  Why couldn't the remains just vanish back to hell or whatever? But no . . .it has to stay burned into the floor and muck up the whole thing."

He banged his hand down on the floor and noticed that one of the floorboards was loose.  Typical.  Harry huffed and decided to move on to the rest of the floor since nothing short of magic was going to get out the hellhound-shaped splotch on the floor.

Some forty minutes later he had finished the floor and the stairs as well as the bathroom.  By then he was sweaty, filthy, and smelled like a chimney sweep from a Dickens novel.  He decided to take a shower before moving on upstairs and taking a ten minute nap before starting on the essay.

He summoned clean clothes from his pack and started to run the shower.

Fifteen minutes later he emerged, feeling ten times better, free of grime and a little weary, but at least the small house was clean, probably for the first time in fifty odd years, and the hated scrubbing had given him time to reflect on his behavior and make a solemn vow to himself to think before he acted so he would not end up scrubbing anymore damn floors and disappointing his guardian.

He walked up the stairs and saw his mentor sleeping.  It was odd, but Severus looked strangely peaceful asleep, all the lines of care and worry erased from his lean features.  Asleep, he looked younger than his thirty-five years and more handsome than he appeared.  It's because he's not scowling or glaring, his ward thought, smirking.  And he'd hex me good if he ever heard what I was thinking.  I guess that frightful reputation keeps the girls from flinging themselves at him.  Harry covered his mouth with his hand to keep from exploding in uncontrollable laughter at the picture that was suddenly conjured in his mind of dozens of teenage girls drooling and hanging all over their Potions Master crying, "Oh, Sevvy darling, I'm just dying for you to kiss me, hold me, touch me!"

Ugh, Harry, get your mind out of the gutter! the rational part of his mind scolded, but the insane part kept cracking up hysterically.  He turned away from his blanket shrouded mentor, biting his lip firmly so no stray snicker could escape and doom him.  Severus deserved to sleep, he had been putting in too many hours trying to break that code today, Harry reminded himself.  You've got an essay to write, he reminded himself, then he realized he needed some books on healing techniques or Ancient Runes to write it and Severus was asleep.

Oh well, guess that means I can take a nap too, and he curled up on his sleeping bag.

* * * * * *

  He was awakened by Snape's hand on his shoulder, and the Potions Master was wearing his patented scowl, making him look normal and not a teenage girl's fantasy.  "Sleeping on the job, Mr. Potter?"

"Well, I couldn't clean or write my essay while you were asleep, since I didn't have any books to study." Harry pointed out.

"Finish the floor first, then I'll give you my Magicka Medicina, my medic text, and let you see what you make of that," ordered his guardian, and for once Harry obeyed.

The attic floor only took him twenty minutes to scrub, since it was half the size and not quite as dirty.  Once he had washed up again, and eaten dinner, then he took the text Severus handed him and studied by the light of a Lumos-charmed lamp while his mentor began the tedious task of translating the notebook.

Harry was on the second paragraph of his essay, writing about wound care using magical salves and spells and potions, when Severus exclaimed, "Riddle, you were a clever bastard! But not clever enough to resist boasting about it."

Harry set down his quill, he was working at a small desk Severus had transfigured from a broken piece of wood, and stared curiously at his mentor.  "What do you mean, Sev?"

"I mean that young Tommy got overconfident and thought he was so clever that he could put down his plans for immortality in this notebook, encrypt it, and hide it away here and it would never be discovered."

"But he never reckoned on the likes of us going to find it, did he?"

"No.  And now he will pay for that overconfidence." Severus tapped the side of the notebook.  "From what I have translated so far, Voldemort learned how to make certain objects by chance, from a forbidden book of dark magic obtained in Knockturn Alley and speaking to Professor Slughorn, my former potions professor.  He writes that one of them was an old diary he had kept from his days as a student, it had once belonged to his mother, Merope, the other he had placed in the Gaunt family ring, after he had killed Marvolo, and split his soul using the ritual."

"The ritual? You mean that's how you make a forbidden object? By killing someone?"

"Yes.  Apparently, the sorcerer uses the energy of the killed person to split his soul and then needs to have a vessel ready to contain it.  A ritual is involved, as is so often the case, and he also made another object using a necklace-a priceless locket that Merope sold when she fled from his father and needed money.  Voldemort bought the necklace back from Borgin and Burke's and then used it and the triple murder of his grandparents and father to split his soul yet again and make a Horcrux out of the pendant and I think another out of a staff known as the Dragoneye Staff, which he stole from the Ministry."

"What's the Dragoneye Staff?"

"A very powerful magical object, supposedly the staff Merlin once carried, the dragon's eye was from the white dragon Merlin saw get defeated by the red dragon in a vision. Voldemort could not resist that he did not own such a treasure and so he stole it away and used it for a heinous purpose."

"Where is it? And the necklace? Does it say?"

"There is a riddle I have partially translated here that may give us a clue," admitted the professor.  "Here.  See what you make of it."

He handed Harry the piece of parchment upon which he had scribbled down the translated verses.  Harry scanned it and read the following verse aloud.

"Slytherin's treasure am I,

Hidden away,' neath footsteps trod at the break of day.

In the home of the damned and wronged do I rest,

Waiting for the one who loved me best."

Then he put his chin in his hand and said quietly, "The first line's easy.  Slytherin;s treasure is the locket."

"Obviously.  What about the next line?"

"Hidden away . . .'neath footsteps trod at the break of day.  Maybe under stairs? Maybe under his bed?"

"Except that Voldemort never slept here."

"Where did the Gaunts sleep, Severus? I never saw a bedroom."

"Perhaps they slept on the floor, like dogs.  Or maybe they shared a bed in the corner," replied the Potions Master dryly.

"Ugh! That's just . . .disgusting!" Harry made a revolted face and shuddered.  "But it says Slytherin's treasure is in the home of the damned and wronged.  So maybe it's in the Riddle House? It's haunted and they were wronged by their own flesh and blood."

Severus considered.  "A good supposition, but he had already hidden one there, why bother hiding two? That's much too risky.  No, think about who wrote these lines, Harry.  Voldemort would not consider the Riddles wronged, by his lights, they got what they deserved, since his father refused to acknowledge him and allowed him to grow up in poverty in an orphanage.  Voldemort would have never forgiven that.  No, the "one wronged" would be Merope . . .and she lived in Gaunt House, which might be considered damned since Voldemort summoned up a hellhound to guard the object."

"Yes! I get it now! And the last line . . .the object is waiting for Voldemort to reclaim it." Harry finished.  "So it has to be here in this house somewhere.  If we can figure out the second line . . ."

"That is what I have been trying to do." The Potions Master said rather testily.

Before Harry could come up with another suggestion, Hedwig glided into the room. She landed on her wizard's shoulder gently and nibbled his wayward hair. It tickled and Harry brushed at her, ordering, "Hedwig, stop! I can brush my own hair!"

The snowy ignored him and kept preening.  Then why do you not do so, hmm?

"Ah! Hedwig, don't you have anything better to do than mess up my hair?"

"I fail to see how it can be any worse," commented Snape.

"Thanks, Sev.  Real nice.  You don't see me making fun of your hair," grumbled Harry.

"Not if you're smart and want to still be able to talk intelligently."

Harry scowled down at the parchment. "Hidden away ‘neath footsteps trod at the break of day. Just what in Merlin's bloody name is that supposed to mean? Where's a place beneath footsteps at the break of day?"

Hedwig stopped preening, looking interested.  Riddles, Harry? I love riddles, all owls do.  We host riddle challenges sometimes in the Owlery.  Read it to me, please.

Harry exchanged doubtful glances with Snape, then read the riddle to his familiar.

Hmm . . .the second line is giving you fits, aye?

"Yeah.  Know what it could mean?"

The snowy owl blinked, then replied, Well, you humans don't fly, you walk on the ground, so perhaps the locket is beneath the floor or buried in the earth?

"Yes, that would fit," Severus said.

"You're right! The floor . . ." Harry hit himself in the forehead.  "Oh, am such a dunderhead! The floorboard! Sev, when I was scrubbing, I noticed a floorboard was loose, it was one of the ones the hellhound fell onto before it died and it left a big splotch on the wood.  Could that be it?"

"It may be." Severus rose, his nose twitching eagerly.  "Show me where this loose floorboard is."

Harry led the way downstairs and quickly located the loose floorboard.

"There! See how loose it is?" Harry jumped on it.

"Yes, now get off."

"How can we remove it?"

"With a Shrinking Charm."

"Oh.  Now why didn't I think of that?"

"Because I have more experience than you," said Severus somewhat smugly. He pointed his wand and muttered the charm.

The board shrank to the size of a toothpick, leaving a space.

Harry tugged on his Curse Breaking gloves and knelt down.  Then he waved his wand and chanted a detection spell-it came back empty-before reaching into the hole and pulling out a small handcarved wooden jewelry box.

"I think this is it!" Harry declared excitedly. 

"Yes.  Wait, before you open it.  It may be boobytrapped," Severus cautioned.  He then cast a spell to detect dark magic traps.

Harry waited tensely until Severus signaled it was okay before opening the box.

The box contained a drawstring green velvet pouch.  When Harry opened it and tipped it upside down, a large oval locket spilled out into his palm.  It was made almost entirely of gold and had a large S over the face of it, done in precious emeralds. 

Almost immediately, he felt his scar start to tingle and burn.

"Ow!" He went to rub his scar.

"What's wrong?" Severus demanded.

"My scar's just . . .tingling."

"When did that start?"

"Just now, when I held the locket."

"Definitely a forbidden object." Severus said grimly.  "Time to be rid of it once and for all."

"Severus . . .what does it mean that my scar's bothering me all of a sudden?" Harry asked anxiously.  "Does it mean he's trying to come back?"

"No, I think that because of what made the scar, you will always be sensitive to objects of dark magic and this is one of the darkest objects ever created." Severus reassured him.  "Let me know what happens when I destroy this one."  He removed the locket from Harry's grasp.

Then he summoned his iron lined cauldron and the case of Curse Destroying potions.

He allowed Harry to toss in the necklace and together the two watched as the mixture hissed, frothed, turned black and smoked, dissolving the locket utterly.

Harry coughed and his eyes streamed despite the handkerchief about his nose and mouth, and Severus went and threw open the door and a breeze came in and blew the offending stench and smoke away. 

Almost immediately, Harry's scar quit hurting. 

"How is your scar, Harry?"

"It's not hurting anymore."

"You are sure? Do not attempt to play the martyr."

"I'm not." He peered down at the black sludge in the cauldron.  "I'd say it was destroyed for good."

"Evanesco!" Snape said and the contents vanished.  Then he reached out and ruffled his ward's hair lightly.  "Well done, Harry.  You and your owl make a good team."

The boy basked in the unexpected praise, smiling quietly.  "Yeah, Hedwig rules. Aren't you glad she came along now, Sev?"

"Yes.  Especially because she gives me a second pair of eyes, which I need to keep you out of mischief, fledgling!"

"Ha ha.  Very funny.  Now what?"

"Now I think it is time for us to go to bed.  We have accomplished much today.  We shall stay here until I have translated the entire journal, and in the meantime you still need to finish your essay and stay within my view."

"Aww, why'd you have to remind me?" his apprentice moaned.  "I was hoping you would . . .forget about that."

 "Trying to weasel out of your chosen punishment already?" scowled his guardian. "Remember, you have no one to blame but yourself."

"I know, Severus!"  he grumbled.  "But I don't have to like it!"

"I would say by the time we are done here, you will have learned a good lesson."

"Damn straight!" the fifteen-year-old muttered.  Then he climbed the stairs and got ready for bed, remembering to thank Hedwig for her input as he did so.  One thing was certain-he would think long and hard about acting on impulse again, because serving your own punishment was just plain awful! And he couldn't even be mad at his guardian, since he was the one who had thought of it.

Shaking his head ruefully, he crawled into his sleeping bag, thinking If I ever have kids, they're going to think I'm the worst dad ever when it comes to giving out punishments and stuff, because by then I'll know almost every trick in the book and the best way to make sure they don't follow in my footsteps and give me heart failure. He yawned then.  Merlin! I must be tireder than I thought, thinking about kids I don't even have, hell . . .I don't even have a girlfriend.  Whatever, I can worry about that later, when Moldy Voldy is in hell for good.

"Good night, Severus," he mumbled as he pillowed his head on his arm.

"Good night, fledgling," came the silky rejoinder, and just before Harry's eyes closed he could have sworn he felt a familiar hand carding his hair. 

Severus stood looking down at his sleeping ward with a faint smile on his taciturn face.  Tomorrow I shall finish my translation and perhaps speak with him a bit more about his claustrophobia.  Meditation might enable him to keep control of it better, but he needs proper sessions to truly conquer it.  That will have to wait, however, until we are home again.  Merlin grant that we return.

He glanced up to see Hedwig perched alertly on the desk chair.  "Thank you, wise one."

You are most welcome, professor.  Together, I think we shall yet keep him safe.

"One can hope." Then he turned and sought his own bed, leaving the owl to keep watch in the moonlight and the single glow from a small nightlamp near Harry's space.