Soth-ince Den, Lizard Point, Cornwall August 1996 (22)

"Well done," Snape said.

Harry's face went charmingly slack-jawed with incredulity; he'd just cast a nonverbal Shield Charm that held up to Snape's best efforts to penetrate it. Finally, after all these weeks, after all the struggles, all the rows, and innumerable failures, he'd done it! He'd impressed Snape! He couldn't stop a self-satisfied grin from blooming across his face. Snape hitched an eyebrow in amusement.

Apparently the mood was infectious as Fang began bounding around the two wizards, barking madly. His boisterous actions eventually knocked Harry off his feet. In an instant, Snape grasped the dog's collar, tugging on it so that he didn't trample the boy. His unlikely reward for this good deed was Fang turning on him and pawing him to the ground. The boarhound then perched his heavy body across Snape's chest, pinning him down in canine triumph. Harry howled with laughter when Fang sloppily licked the man's face before lowering his head to his paws.

"Oh, you great mutt, get off!" Snape snarled. He then shoved at Fang, who grunted softly at each push, but wouldn't be budged.

After a moment, Harry stumbled to his feet, but he was still laughing too hard to stand up straight. Having given up trying to free himself, Snape eyed the boy expectantly, but when Harry made no immediate moves to help, Snape growled, "Potter! Get this monster off of me!"

Harry rubbed at his chin, pretending to contemplate the situation - then Snape's gaze narrowed ominously. Harry had no real fear of Snape hurting him, but the man exacted revenge the way he taught Potions - with skillful indifference.

While training one day, Harry accidently spelled Snape's hair yellow. Gaping at the man in horror, he tried to change it back; it turned orange. At that point, Snape's nostrils began to flap and flare so menacingly, Harry fancied wisps of smoke would soon unfurl from them. When he tried once again to reverse the spell's ill effects, a cheery holiday green erupted from Snape's head, contrasting horribly with his sallow skin. Harry, whose lips had been twitching since his second attempt, burst out laughing.

"I'm s-sorry!" He doubled over, gasping for air as Snape charged past him to enter the cottage. After taking a few moments to get his laughter and breathing under control, Harry followed. When he didn't find Snape in the sitting room or the kitchen, he knocked on the man's bedroom door, but there was no answer. Silencing Charm, he thought.

In apology for the wayward spell, he rose earlier than usual the next morning to prepare a breakfast tray for Snape. Just as he finished loading it, the man turned up in the kitchen, his hair jet black. Harry contemplated saying he was sorry, but decided against it as Snape silently dished up food to fill both their plates. Their day continued as normal, and as Snape displayed no outward signs of anger or upset, Harry forgot about the spell.

However, that night at dinner, a strange tickling sensation erupted along his ribs and nose causing him to simultaneously giggle and sneeze loudly. After a few moments of Snape's sidelong glances, he excused himself to the loo, where his symptoms eased, then faded.  He then rejoined Snape at the table, but as soon as his rump settled in his chair, the sensation began again. He sneezed explosively into the crook of his elbow, and was about to excuse himself, when through his watering eyes, he caught Snape eyeing him smugly.

"I daid I wuz dowwy!"

Eventually, Snape had taken mercy on him and released the spell, but with that memory in mind, and a thought to what else the man might have tucked away in his arsenal of vengeance, Harry whistled to the dog then mimed throwing something. Fang shot off after it, barking joyously.

"Mangy menace," Snape grumbled, sitting up to brush grass and dog hair from his chest. Harry snorted and rolled his eyes, knowing the man's outrage to be an awful sham. The rare day passed that he didn't pepper the dog with treats in his efforts to train him - or even when he wasn't. When lying on the sofa engrossed in a book, one hand would always be draped over the side, long fingers absently scratching Fang's large head.

Taking in the man's disheveled appearance Harry gallantly offered him a hand up. Snape considered it, grasped it, and with an evil chuckle - he tugged! Screeching, Harry flew toward the ground, flailing wildly, but in a flash, Snape brandished his wand, casting a charm to cushion Harry's fall. Then, quick as a cat, he was on his feet, towering over the boy while languidly running his wand along his robes to rid them of dust. Harry gaped at him, speechless.

"Yes?" Snape said, an ill-disguised, ill-placed innocence marking his sharp features.

"Y-you... you..." Harry stammered, flabbergasted.

"Dear, dear."  The man purred. "Perhaps in addition to your magical training, we should have worked on improving your abysmal verbal skills..."

Harry huffed in disbelief. Snape was playing with him!? This couldn't go unchallenged! He'd just stymied Snape's attempt to crack his Shield Charm, and he was young, and, well, to be frank, he was a Gryffindor - Snape was not. Feeling cocky, and eager to show the man a thing or two, he bound to his feet as deftly as Snape had.

"Okay," he said, with a taunting sneer. "What say we start, now?"  

Snape eyed Harry as if he was a troublesome piece of lint, and then dropped into a defensive stance. Harry smirked, carefully edging alongside the man, speculating how best to incapacitate him. Binding spell? Tripping hex? But just as he was dismissing those as too elementary, he stopped in his tracks.

Just over Snape's shoulder, Harry spied Fang racing full tilt in their direction, his large padded feet, soundless on the grass.

He tried not to make any sudden moves that might tip Snape off to the dog-shaped missile behind him, but he couldn't control the smile curling his lips. Snape caught the devious look, and turned, but too late; the dog was already airborne. Harry quickly dipped and darted to the left, easily evading Fang's playful tackle that would have taken both him and Snape down. Properly distracted by Harry's ploy, the dog fixed on his new target - a horrified looking Snape. As hound and prey collided, Harry grabbed his stomach and rocked back and forth, laughter already erupting from his throat.

"Arrgh!" Snape cried, quite inarticulately, Harry smugly noted. The man went down, arms pin-wheeling ineffectively just before being flattened, the victim of yet another canine tongue lashing. But this time, instead of trying to force the dog up and off him, Snape surrendered to it, then began rubbing Fang's coat furiously. Instantly, the dog rolled onto his side, his gangly legs paddling the grass in delight as Snape scratched his belly. This display was followed by the breathtaking sound of Snape laughing.

Harry stared, stunned to hear Snape, the man who clung to solemnity like the proverbial dog with a bone, laughing. He wouldn't dare describe the hauntingly dark and mellow sound as joyful, but its unfettered spontaneity made Harry feel privileged. He found himself a bit jealous that Fang had been the one to wring the warm tones from the man, yet he was glad in that they were occurring at all. Shaking his head, he walked toward the lanky duo. Snape released Fang, who padded over to sit before Harry, offering his paw. Harry shook it and squatted down to plant a rewarding kiss on the dog's broad forehead.

"Good boy!" He praised, grinning.

"Bloody terrors, both of you," Snape groaned as he got to his feet.

Harry opened his mouth to reply, but was nearly bowled over by Fang once again. The dog streaked off in the direction of the hill where they normally entered through the magical boundary, barking furiously. Well attuned to the differences in the dog's barks and moods, Snape came alert instantly.

Seemingly innocuous, Fang's training had involved more than simple parlor tricks of fetch and sit. Harry had witnessed the man leading the boarhound around the property's edges instructing him with verbal commands as well as distinctive hand signals; he had never known Fang to be as attentive as when Snape was testing him. When Harry broached the subject, Snape had encouraged him to work with the dog as well, schooling him on the finer points of the intricate training. Though not as attuned to Fang as Snape was, it was clear to Harry that danger was just the other side of the boundary.

He squinted in the direction the dog had gone to see that Fang had already crested the hill and was bouncing agitatedly in tight circles at the entry point. Fearing for his safety, Harry whistled sharply. Without hesitation, Fang dashed back to his side, growling deeply, his eyes riveted on the spot he'd just left.

"Who do you think it is?" Harry turned to Snape, his stomach a bubbling mass of worry, and fear.

"I don't know." Snape's gaze was as acutely focused as Fang's, anticipating, primed for anything.

"They can't get through the boundary, right?"

Snape shook his head distractedly. "I don't fear they shall penetrate it, but how do they even know it exists?"

Harry knew Snape must be thinking aloud, because he had no better idea of the answer than Snape did. Then, a flurry of lights erupted, aimed at the boundary.

Snape growled dangerously. "The fools! In broad daylight..."

"But, there's no one there!"

"Disillusioned..." Snape hissed.

"What do we do?"

Their first night in the valley Snape had familiarized Harry with an emergency Portkey charmed to remove him to Hogwarts should anything untoward arise. As things were Harry knew their only option was to flee, but at that moment his only thought was of how desperately he wanted to stay.

The idea of a forced leaving filled him with a helpless outrage. After all the horrors early on in the summer, why couldn't they be left in peace? Why did the outside world have to infringe on their lives right now? Just when he and Snape -

"Into the cottage, Harry! Now!" Snape bellowed, jolting Harry out of his thoughts. "You know where the Portkey is..." The man said, by way of farewell, Harry realized, for one second Snape was at his side, and the next, he was running headlong toward the lights bounding off the magical marker.

"NO!" Harry screamed.

Whether Snape didn't hear or he purposely ignored him, Harry didn't know, but instinct kicked in and he tore off after the man, a barking Fang already several strides ahead. Spurred on by a deep, abiding fear, Harry pushed his legs to go faster, to reach Snape. He made sure to never lose sight of the man's lean figure as Snape flew up the hillside, and a moment later, he saw that Snape had reached the boundary and had his wand out casting his own spells, frantically reinforcing what powerful magic already existed.

Harry was halfway up the hill, perhaps twenty strides from Snape, when a red light sliced through the barrier, striking the man. Harry's heart stopped. Knocked off balance, Snape rolled a short way down the hill. Fang howled as if wounded then blazed a trail to where the man had come to rest.

Watching Snape fall ignited a burning anger within Harry, scorching his veins so that it seeped out of his pores - a liquid hate. That black emotion quickly rendered the surrounding atmosphere electric, causing it to crackle darkly with raw, unrestrained power. Though his breathing was preternaturally calm, the hair on his arms and neck stood stiff at attention, making his skin painfully sensitive to the slightest puff of air. His eyes, blackened with rage and pain, focused sharply on the spot the spell had breached, forging a deadly tunnel vision.

Untraceable, he thought coldly. It'd be so easy to be rid of them, to kill them. So easy... My magic is untraceable.

Suddenly, Fang's anguished howls of pain gave way to howls of fear. The dog had been around Harry practicing his magic, had even been a reluctant participant, but he had never been genuinely afraid of or threatened by it - until now. Recognizing the frightening difference in the boy's energy, he began to butt his head against Harry's legs. When the boy didn't respond, he firmly gripped Harry's left hand in his mouth and bit down - not enough to break the skin, but hard enough to get his attention.

At the feel of those sharp teeth, Harry closed his eyes, trying to rein in his emotions. It was hard, because here he was, once again, at Voldemort's mercy. Worse still, Snape was, too. Harry could hardly breathe for the sight of the man lying unmoving, still as a corpse.

He cursed himself a fool, so blindly complacent, so eager to believe that until September first he was guaranteed peace, a respite from the hell that had been his life in recent weeks. Certainly, when he had first come to Soth-ince he hadn't believed that, but things had changed. He had come to a point where he no longer wanted to wallow in the horrors of losing Sirius, Remus, and the Dursleys; he had wanted only to be left alone, if only for a little while. But, the sight of those spells and curses hitting the boundary, and the sight of Snape being cursed, reaffirmed that there was no peace to be had. None.

That yearning for peace, that blissful ignorance, had proved costly. Look what it had wrought - Snape, standing once again between him and Voldemort, taking the brunt of the punishment. Harry knew that Voldemort would hunt Snape regardless, but he couldn't help the niggling feeling of guilt that if Dumbledore hadn't charged Snape with looking after him, the man would likely be safe out in the world, disguised and well-hidden. But that wasn't the matter of the moment, was it?

He had to do something to make this world safe, again, and this world, his world right now was this man - Please, don't let him be dead - this bit of land, and the anxious dog beside him.

He wouldn't let Voldemort just kill him, wouldn't be a victim. He could fight back. Snape had taught him how. With that in his mind, Harry inhaled deeply, forcing his heart beat to slow, and he began to focus on what he wanted to happen. Envisioning black-robed, white-masked intruders, he began to chant softly:

"Disarm them, make them go away! Disarm them, make them go away! Disarm them make them go away, disarmthemmakethemgoaway, disarmthemmakethemgoaway, NOW!"

From the other side of the boundary there issued a mix of surprised yells, a loud resounding crack, then silence. Harry slowly opened his eyes to see Fang sniffing along the boundary's point of entry. He then turned to Harry and barked. Waving his tail happily, he trotted over to Snape. Feeling unsteady, Harry staggered over to join them. Groaning at the sight of the motionless man, he dropped to his knees beside him.

"P-professor?" Harry's hand wavered as he placed it on Snape's chest. The man was breathing, but he was frighteningly still. Without thought Harry incanted, "Rennervate." When Snape's eyes sprang open, Harry exhaled harshly, suddenly dizzy.

"Where are they?" Snape jerked up to a sitting position, whipping his head about, eyes frantically taking in the area.

"Gone..." Harry blinked rapidly, trying to focus on Snape.

Snape turned to him and looked him over, trying to absorb every inch of him with his eyes. "You're all right?"

Harry bobbed his head unsteadily. The concern riddling Snape's face warmed him, but the realization that the man could have been killed hit him with the force of a locomotive; his eyes flooded with tears. Snape sighed and reached for him. Harry went willingly, collapsing bonelessly into the warm circle of the man's arms.

"Harry..." There it was again, his name, but it was whispered so softly, and with such care, Harry had little choice but to let go of his emotions.

"They could have k-killed you!" He sobbed into Snape's neck.

It took Snape a long time to reply. When he did, he sounded oddly hoarse: "But I'm fine... We're both fine."

Soothed by the steady thump of Snape's heart, Harry's tears slowed to a trickle then stopped.   

After a quiet moment, Snape cleared his throat. "I must repair the boundary."

Harry heaved a sigh as Snape released him. With great reluctance, he straightened up and got to his feet, following Snape.

"What did you do to them?" he asked.

"Dunno..." said Harry, feeling more than a bit sapped now that things were calm. "I jus' wanted ‘em to go away,"

"Where?"

Harry shrugged as they neared the boundary. "They could be just the other side of the hill or Timbuktu. Maybe I only stunned ‘em..."

He described what he had done and what he had heard. Snape nodded and ventured forward to cross to the other side.

"No!" Harry grabbed his arm.

"I must see who or what, is over there," Snape said, picking up his wand from where it landed when he fell. "Stay here." His dark eyes were hard, demanding obedience.

Harry glared after him, stubbornly, but he stayed put - sort of. Unable to help himself, he inched closer to the boundary, so close he felt the tingle of magic against the toes of his trainers. Seconds later, Snape nearly knocked into him as he stepped back through. He tossed four wands to the ground where Fang gave them a perfunctory sniff before lifting his leg over them. Snape then raised his wand and began muttering, pointing it at the failed entrance.

"Will we be able to stay, or do we have to leave?" Harry looked out longingly at the valley.

"It's probably best that we go."

"Where?" Harry asked, his question harking back several weeks to the hospital wing when he'd asked the same thing. Then he hadn't wanted to go anywhere with Snape.

"Well, as there are less than two weeks until school begins, we could return to Hogwarts."

Harry scowled. "What about Dumbledore?"

Snape considered the area he'd been reinforcing, then turned to face Harry. "It's likely he'll not be there as he has obligations outside the castle. But even if he is, he won't interfere with your training."

Snape sounded confident, determined even, but Harry found that certainty hard to swallow. Dumbledore had been interfering in his life since before he had even come to Hogwarts, since before he had even known he was a wizard. Why would that change simply because Snape said so?

Noting the conflicted look on Harry's face, Snape said, "Potter, he is only your headmaster while at school, nothing more. He has no claim to you."

Again, Harry flashed back to the hospital wing. Raw with the loss of Sirius, he had relished refusing Snape's demand that he sit down to eat, believing himself beholden to no adult, especially Snape. But, now that Snape had just unwittingly clarified that in no uncertain terms he was on his own - alone - Harry was shocked to discover that old feeling of rebellion and independence vanished, usurped by a visceral desire to belong to someone.

"Yeah," he sighed, absently toeing the wet wands lying discarded on the ground. "Where else is there to go?"

Snape waited a beat before saying, "There's Grimm -"

"No!"

"Potter, our options are severely limited, you must consider the -"

"I'm not going back there!"

"Do not raise your voice to me! I am not one of your Housemates to whom you can speak any way you wish!"

"Yeah, well, you're not my dad either! No one has any claim to me... remember?"

Snape reeled, looking as if Harry had just slapped him. He then turned abruptly on his heel and stalked back to the cottage.

*WO

Approaching the cottage, Harry found the door open. Snape was on the sofa, flexing his hands.

"Are they bothering you?" Harry asked quietly. He wasn't sure what had sparked Snape's earlier reaction, but given what they had just been through he didn't want to antagonize the man any more than necessary.

"It's not unbearable," Snape grumbled, trying hard to mask a grimace.

Wordlessly, Harry went to sit on the coffee table in front of him. He settled his knees close then reached to take one of the man's hands in his. Snape simply sank back into the sofa, leaning his head back against a pillow as Harry gently massaged his hand. Fang hauled his bulk up to lie next to Snape then flopped his head onto the man's thigh. With his free hand, Snape reached out to gingerly rub the dog's neck.

"I really -" Harry began. Snape lifted his head and glared at him.

"Potter, if you apologize to me, I shall -"

"Hex me ‘til you can't hex anymore! I know, I know!" Harry glared back just as furiously. "What I was going to say was that... I really don't want to go to Hogwarts... Least, not ‘til school starts," he said in a more normal tone. "I don't want to have to deal with Dumbledore."

"Well, we cannot stay here," Snape said with a tired sigh. "We should probably be gone already."

As Harry began to massage Snape's other hand, he began to feel bad for refusing to go to Grimmauld Place. But, knowing Dumbledore might choose to pop in at anytime, and that Order members would always be in and out treating the house as a way station instead of a home, did little to make it appealing. Even more disturbing was that Sirius would lurk in every shadow, corner, and hollow. No, not Grimmauld Place. Never.

At the distressed look on Harry's face, Snape said, with some reticence, "There is another option..."

*WO

Minutes later, Snape and Harry were packed and ready to depart, arriving at their destination courtesy of the emergency Portkey. The stomach churning journey ended abruptly upon landing in a shuttered room, which, when its wall sconces came to life, revealed itself as a dusty, cluttered store room.

"Where's this?" Harry asked, coughing and fanning the dust motes stirred up from their arrival.

"The Hog's Head," Snape responded. He strode to a soot-covered lamp to tap it with his wand. When it glowed blue, he seemed to relax.

"Why here?" Harry regarded the man and the room curiously.

"It's a secure location."

"The Hog's Head is as secure as Hogwarts?" Harry asked, astonished.

"Yes."

Dissatisfied with Snape's dry, monosyllabic explanation, Harry opened his mouth to retort, but then a knock sounded outside the room. Snape didn't move, but merely watched as a drab, rotted armoire morphed into a portal through which a tall, thin elderly man with long, gray hair walked.

"Severus!" 

"Aberforth," Snape replied, extending his hand. The old wizard ignored it to draw Snape into his arms. Harry watched, dumbfounded, as Snape stood rod-like against Aberforth, his arms held frozen at his sides. Then for the second time that day, Harry saw the man surrender. After a moment the tightness in his body eased and he let his chin fall to rest on Aberforth's shoulder. He then raised his arms to hesitantly return the embrace.

"It does me well to see you," Aberforth said, his normally gruff voice made even gruffer with emotion. He then took Snape's face in his hands and pushed a heavy lock of black hair behind his ear to gently pat a sallow cheek.

"And you, sir," Snape said, swallowing against a tiny quaver in his own voice. "It is not my wish to trouble you -"

"Hush! I'll not listen to rubbish!"

Speechless, Harry continued to gawk inelegantly at the strangely emotional scene. Finally, Aberforth released Snape to briskly look him up and down, reminding Harry of how Snape often perused him, as if inventorying that all his limbs were intact. Harry couldn't help smirking as Snape blushed; then Aberforth turned his attention to him.

The Aberforth Harry met last year had been a grumpy, spectacle-wearing barkeep who never seemed to have a clean rag at hand. Though still rough around the edges with his scratchy voice, frayed robes, and keen, yet battle-weary blue eyes, this oddly sentimental wizard greeting Snape as though he was his child was wholly unexpected.  

Harry frowned, confused, prompting the old wizard to chuckle - it sounded like someone trying to start an old car.

"You're looking well, Mr. Potter." Aberforth crossed the room to rest his hands on Harry's shoulders, giving him the same once-over he had just afforded Snape, but instead of feeling uneasy for having a relative stranger take in his appearance as if they were long-time acquaintances, Harry felt warm and comforted.

"Severus has taken excellent care of you, I see."

Snape grunted from his spot in the room. Aberforth cast a wily wink at Harry.

"By now Mr. Potter, I'm sure that you are privy to the fact that our Severus is not nearly as diabolical as his reputation would have many believe, yes? Those forbidding robes and that chilling sneer..." Aberforth snorted softly. "The common stranger might think he was out to nick their children and serve them up for tea!"

Harry couldn't help but laugh as Snape sighed and huffed as though he were indeed dismayed at being perceived as anything other than diabolical. But, the muted twinkle in the old man's blue eyes was so familiar that Harry was again frowning with questions.

"Before we get into who I am and why you're here, what say we tuck into a fine meal? Hungry?"

In response, Harry's stomach growled lustily.

"Just a bit peckish then, eh?" Aberforth smiled as Harry blushed. He then pulled out his wand, and with a flick of his wrist, the room brightened considerably, transforming into an unassuming, but comfortable sitting room. A loud crack sent Fang into a tailspin; Harry put a calming hand on his head when a house-elf appeared.

"Dobby!"

The elf squeaked alarmingly and rounded on Harry to throw himself at his legs, gripping him as if he were a life raft and the floor, a fiercely churning ocean.

"Harry Potter! Dobby has missed you terribly, Harry Potter!" Dobby took to dabbing at his tear-filled eyes with the edge of his Hogwarts tea towel.

"Dobby, we could use a hot meal... once you've a free moment," Aberforth said, chuckling at the elf's theatrics. Harry flushed with embarrassment and tried to peel the ever obliging creature from his legs.

"Oh certainly, Master Dumbledore, certainly!"

Harry gasped, shocked. "Dumbledore? You're related to Professor Dumbledore?"

Aberforth shrugged unconcernedly. "As it's not a common name and he and I are the only one's who bear it, I'll claim genetic compatibility."

Harry blinked, thinking it a kooky way to admit kinship to someone, but knowing Albus Dumbledore, it was not so surprising that his brother would have a similarly queer personality.

"Come," Aberforth said, gesturing for Harry to take a seat at the table. "Let's break bread before discussing the week ahead."

They all sat, but Harry couldn't keep his eyes off Aberforth, who was leaning over, tickling Fang's chin. He tried desperately to reconcile that this was Dumbledore's brother and not some low-level hood who serviced a questionable clientele. Well, he thought, to be fair, the Hog's Head's clientele of hags and the like was questionable. But, apparently the man was not. Feeling a squashing pressure on his right foot, Harry tore his eyes away from Aberforth to throw an apologetic glare at Snape.

When the man began piling Harry's plate high with roast beef, mashed potatoes and pickled beets, he thought nothing of it, but the sly twinkle in Aberforth's eyes as he observed the two dark-haired wizards made Harry blush and duck his head.

"Thank you," he muttered when Snape was done.

"You're welcome," Snape replied automatically. He then looked at Harry's flushed face and regarded him curiously. When Harry's eyes darted over to Aberforth, Snape's eyes followed. What he saw in those blue eyes made him clear his throat and shift in his seat.

"‘It is not flesh and blood but the heart which makes us fathers and sons,'"* Aberforth said. Harry and Snape gaped at him, stunned; Aberforth shrugged. "It's a rather apropos quote, I think. Comes from a book my brother gave me. A gift from a friend of his... German chap named, Grindelwald."

Thankfully, Harry had yet to take a bite of the roast on his fork, else he would have choked.

"Friends? But, the Professor defeated Grindelwald... He was evil... wasn't he?"

Aberforth nodded. "Some would say so."

"But, you're saying that they were close..."

"At one time they had a much better relationship than my brother and me," Aberforth said, nodding. "But, blood only matters so much as the intent and feeling behind it... as with anything."

A curious chill worked its way along Harry's spine. Though he felt compelled to glance over at Snape, he directed his eyes to his plate and began pushing his beets around.

*WO

Hog's Head, Hogsmeade, August 1996

Harry missed Soth-ince desperately, but the Hog's Head had its charms, chief among them, Aberforth. Consistently and convincingly gruff when behind the pub's bar, he was always graciously accommodating when upstairs in their shared rooms. It was thanks to Aberforth that Harry began to learn intriguing tidbits about Snape, including how he and the old wizard had become friendly in his third-year.

But, sometimes even stories about Snape weren't enough to combat how much Harry hated being cooped up upstairs, day in and day out. Luckily, Aberforth and Snape were sensitive to his moods. On the days he expressed cabin fever, Snape allowed him - disguised as ‘James' - to help out Aberforth downstairs in the pub. Forbidden from using his wandless magic, the work was back-breaking, but it was better than being confined upstairs all day.

Five days before they were due back at Hogwarts, Snape, sensing Harry's increasing restlessness, suggested an outing.  Donning their Cornish alter egos, he and Harry journeyed to some of Hogsmeade's shops. Their first stop was Gladrags where they ordered school robes sized to fit Harry's ‘brother.' They next entered Dervish and Banges where Harry insisted on getting a gift for Aberforth as thanks for his generosity.

Following a jaunt to the Three Broomsticks, where Madam Rosmerta fussed over ‘James' and flirted outrageously with a stammering, red-faced ‘Edmund', they made their way to the post office. There they picked up Harry's school supplies which Aberforth had kindly ordered days before. All the way back to the Hog's Head, Harry mercilessly teased a scowling Snape about Rosmerta's overt attentions.

At dinner that night, he laughingly shared with Aberforth what had happened. The old wizard patted Snape's hand in a placatory manner, but his blue eyes brimmed with tears at Harry's horrid impression of Madam Rosmerta as he reenacted the failed seduction. Snape eyed Harry beadily throughout, long fingers drumming menacingly against his chin, obviously plotting some sort of revenge, but this didn't deter Harry as he kept up the teasing until bedtime.

"G'night, you delicious, handsome, thing, you!" He then tried to duck into the hall to escape to his room before Snape could retaliate. Instead, he ran - rather forcefully - into the invisible barrier Snape had just spelled into the doorway.

Groaning, Harry turned to slide down the barrier until his bum hit the floor. With his nose in his hands, he crinkled it up to test that it was intact and blood free. Looking to his right, he saw black-booted feet, crossed at the ankles. He snapped his eyes up to Snape's face, irritated at the gratified expression there.

"No fair!" Harry frowned. "Dis hurts!" He pointed ruefully to his nose.

"Mmm... Pity, that," Snape said, his eyes hooded as he looked down at the boy.

"Severus?" said Aberforth from his rocking chair, gray hair wreathed by smoke from the briar pipe poking out of the corner of his mouth.

Snape startled then looked over at him; chastising blue eyes looked back. Snape sighed. Grumbling, he squatted down to take a look at Harry's nose. He fingered it delicately, stopping when Harry flinched. He then tapped it with his wand and Harry inhaled deeply, flaring his nostrils to see if there was any residual pain. There wasn't.

"Thanks," he murmured. Snape nodded and stood up. Then, without preamble he flicked his wand, removing the invisible barrier; Harry hit the floor with a thud.

"Ow!"

*WO

Space was clearly at a premium for Harry's more physically impressive magic, yet he continued training. To test his degree of concentration, he often levitated random objects while Snape quizzed him on Potions. Three days before the start of term, he was lazily levitating a sleeping Fang while Snape leafed through lessons plans for his seventh-years. They both looked up when Aberforth entered the sitting room.

"Severus, my brother wishes to have a word with you."