They decided to stop at the Hospital Wing first, and Madam Pomfrey examined Harry with her usual air of concerned disapproval. When he said that he felt like he'd been playing Quidditch in a high wind for several hours, she pointed her wand at him, muttered a bit, and said he had minor muscle strain at most major joints and along his spine. She obviously didn't believe him when he said he had no idea why.

"What you children get up to!" she huffed.

After further examination, she recommended he eat a small amount of food six times a day for the next few days, then resume normal meals, avoiding very rich foods for a few days more. Finally, she gave him a foul-tasting nutritive draught, and sent him on his way, with strict orders to return the following morning.

Back in Snape's kitchen, Harry had a bowl of porridge with milk and bananas, which the house elves sent up from the kitchen, and tea, from a pot Snape made himself. Snape drank a cup of the tea and read the Daily Prophet, looking increasingly more angry.

"Am I back to being mentally unbalanced?" Harry asked finally, making the question light.

"What? Oh, yes." Snape scowled. "This time, of course, it is all in the most revoltingly maudlin terms, with ridiculous details on how you have been treated and the observation that it is no wonder you finally cracked." He stood up and tossed the paper down on the table. "Read it. Stay here. I need to speak to the headmaster."

"Doesn't it concern me?"

In the doorway to the front room, Snape whirled back. "We will be talking about you, Harry. When we wish to talk with you, we will let you know. For now, read the paper, and stay here."

Harry Potter: Muggle killer? read the headline. Underneath, an article outlined the case:

Harry Potter, long identified as the savior of Muggles and Muggle-born witches and wizards, may finally have turned on the Muggle world. Yesterday evening, Ministry officials were horrified to hear that the home of Potter's only living relatives, the Dursleys, hung under the Dark Mark. Horror turned to shock when Auror arrived at the scene to find Potter's uncle dead, the victim of a Killing Curse, but Potter himself missing. All his belongings were gone, as well, leading to speculation that the Boy-Who-Lived departed voluntarily.

"Harry Potter's aunt and cousin died in a traffic accident only a few minutes before the attack," said Ministry spokesperson Percy Weasley. "Under the circumstances, we will need to classify those deaths as suspicious." Mr. Weasley went on to say that it was well known that Potter's Muggle relatives mistreated him shamefully. The Daily Prophet must assume it was "well known" in quite limited circles.

A Daily Prophet reporter had apparently been inspired to do some honest investigating. The article briefly outlined alleged abuse of Harry by the Dursleys, then referred readers to a second article on page 2 for more details.

That article had a byline (Kynthia Bayer) and details gleaned from interviews with neighbors and observations of the house. The Aurors had apparently magically identified the cupboard under the stairs, as well as the upstairs room, as Harry's bedrooms, and been able to determine that the cupboard had been used as such for longer. The reporter had noticed that both had doors that locked from the outside, and, in talking with the neighbors had discovered that they believed Harry to be a dangerous juvenile offender who spent most of the year at a reform school. The article tone varied between shock and maudlin sympathy, but Harry had to admit the facts were, for once, largely accurate. That, he reflected, made it no less embarrassing, especially when Ms. Bayer went on for a full paragraph about this "shocking, systematic abuse that went unchecked by the child's wizarding protectors..."

"Oh hell!" Harry folded up the paper and chucked it across the room. "They're going to go after Dumbledore. Or the Weasleys. Anyone who ever tried to help me is going to get treated as a fucking accessory!"

Though Snape was only gone for a bit longer than it took Harry to read the articles that concerned him, by the time he returned, Harry was in a simmering rage. He wanted to do something, anything, so long as it was exhausting, and preferably violent.

"What did Professor Dumbledore say?" he asked.

"He was unavailable. Did you finish your reading?"

"Yes."

"And?" Snape asked, his eyebrows rising.

"Maudlin crap, like you said. I don't know if it's better or worse that they got their facts right, for once."

"Did they?" Snape asked.

"About life with the Dursleys, pretty much. All the 'horrific abuse' stuff is absurd, though. I was miserable, but it wasn't like they whipped me or anything."

"They locked you up."

"Sometimes. And sometimes they didn't feed me much, and they worked me like a house-elf when I was allowed out, but it wasn't intolerable. I don't need anyone feeling sorry for me."

Snape frowned. "It may not have been intolerable -- to you, but it was nonetheless abuse." He waved down Harry's protest. "I understand your objection to the pity, and your meaning. Certainly there are children who endure worse -- I did -- but for you to say it is not abuse, is as if I said it was not torture to bind a man until he soiled himself, when I might have pulled off his fingernails, instead. That worse things could be done does not make an action right."

"Look, that's just how things were!" Harry snarled. He stood and paced for a moment. He needed to do something, something active, and Snape would not let him go walking alone. "Can we duel?" he asked suddenly.

Snape's eyebrows rose. "Duel?"

"Yeah."

"Why, may I ask?"

Harry balled his hands to fists. Anger was moving through him in little electric flashes, both painful and enticing.

"I want to blast something," he said. "I recall you defend pretty well, and give as good as you get."

"I see. And do you think that would wise, with both of us furious?"

"No." Harry stared at him and smiled fiercely. "But we'd both enjoy it, wouldn't we?"

A cruel delight spread across Snape's features. Harry had the odd thought that he was seeing the Death Eater, right now, and at this moment, he could deal with that.

"Let's find an empty room," Snape said silkily. "I don't want all my things destroyed."

Harry led Snape to the Room of Requirement, and it was ready for dueling, with mats on the floor, small objects to use as missiles, and things to roll or duck behind. There were even fragile, wooden things that would break satisfyingly without leaving dangerous debris. The duel started off deliberate and intense, and quickly grew furious. Afterwards, Harry rolled from the mats and lay panting on the cool stone floor, unable to recall the curses he had cast himself, never mind the ones that Snape had cast at him. He didn't mind that Snape had won. He'd got in some good attacks, and, most importantly, had bled off the edgy energy that had been consuming him all morning.

"Do you intend to get up?" Snape asked condescendingly.

"Mmm. Good floor," Harry said. "Nice, cool, smooth floor."

With an exasperated sigh, Snape reached a hand down to him. Harry let himself be helped up.

"Thanks," he said. "That was fun."

"I shouldn't be pandering to this you know. You'd be better served learning occlumency than indulging your passions in destruction."

Harry yawned. "Let's do a session now," he suggested.

"Now?"

"Yes. I have a bit of an advantage, being worn out from fighting, but I could certainly use one."

Snape nodded. "Very well."

With no more warning than that, Snape attacked. Harry was suddenly lying in his cupboard, the only light shining through the slat that Uncle Vernon had opened to scream through. Snape. Harry forced himself to see Snape. The cupboard was still there, superimposed over the sneering Potions master. It does not matter. Snape was back fully now. The cupboard faded away. Harry stepped forward.

"Do I attack you?"

"It is not necessary. Again."

Snape attacked again, harder this time. He was asking a first-year Harry about asphodel and wormwood. He was pulling Harry away from the pensieve, and screaming in rage and humiliation. Sirius was falling backwards... It is over. Harry chose his own, linked memory, caught at it. He was blowing ashes from Hedwig's drop tray out the window, whispering "you are the past." The visions dropped away with the ash. Snape was back, standing before him in the Room of Requirement, surrounded by the debris of their duel. His expression was no longer sneering, but studying.

"Well," he commented. "I think you have actually done your homework."

Harry hung his head. "Yes, sir."

"Better late than never, I suppose." At the wry words, Harry looked up into a similarly bitter smile. "Though that is sometimes hard to believe," Snape added. "Still, we must tell ourselves that. It would be fatal to believe anything less."

Harry nodded, afraid to speak.

"Let's go, then. You should eat more."

Snape said nothing on the walk down to the dungeons, for which Harry was thankful.

Back in the kitchen, Snape called down the kitchens for light sandwiches and milk. He didn't eat himself, but sat briefly.

"You will be on your own this afternoon. I have work to do. Please make some attempt to stay out of trouble."

Harry nodded. "About leaving the castle...."

"No."

"Just down to Hagrid's?"

"He is away." Snape growled with exasperation. "It is only until the ring is ready, Harry. When we have new wards on you, you can walk -- perhaps not around the lake, but certainly down to Hagrid's."

"Or the pitch?"

Snape snorted. "Could I prevent it?"

"Probably not," Harry admitted. He bit his lip. "What if Professor Lupin will go with me?" he asked.

"No."

Harry was taken back by the sudden return of the familiar loathing to Snape's voice.

"But he--"

"He is an untrustworthy, irresponsible, lying, careless fool! You will not go anywhere with him, outside the castle or in it!"

"Lupin is wonderful! He is a kind, caring--"

"Lupin was a Marauder," Snape hissed. "I remember his kindness. I know what he will countenance."

"What did Lupin ever do to you? Even James said--"

"Nothing!" Snape snarled. "Remus did nothing! He was always there, standing and watching--"

"The only thing wrong with Lupin," Harry said firmly, "is that he lacks moral courage. So do most people; Lupin just has enough of a conscience that you can tell he wants to do the right thing."

Severus's face tightened; the anger drained to an unreadable expression. "So he won't hurt you," Snape said coldly, "unless it is incidental to whatever he wants to do, and protecting you would inconvenience or embarrass him."

"He won't hurt me," Harry retorted fiercely.

"Only let you get hurt?"

"I..." Harry tried to get his anger under control. Snape had a reason to say what he did. "I don't believe he would do that, either. He likes me. There is a difference between acting on convictions and protecting someone you like."

A familiar flash of hatred crossed Snape's features. "And you know best, as always," he sneered.

Harry shook. "I just said 'I believe,'" he answered. "You may not trust him, but Dumbledore does. I get to have an opinion." He looked desperately for any sign of concession on Snape's stony face. "I'll be careful around him," he said earnestly. "I promise."

"No secret meetings in hidden places," Snape pressed. "I want to know when you will be with Lupin and where you will be, and you will not allow him to change times or locations without informing me."

"He's in the Order!"

"So was Pettigrew."

"Lupin is not Pettigrew!"

"No. Lupin is a werewolf."

"That only matters near the full moon!" Harry caught himself. He had his concession, and he was wasting it in argument. "Look, I'll do what you say, all right? I will always tell you where and when I will be with Lupin, unless he just happens upon me while I'm out--"

"In which case, you will return immediately to my rooms or to Dumbledore's office. If he accompanies you, you may speak to him while you walk, but you may not let him lead you anywhere."

"Fine!" Harry snapped, not at all as if it was. "But I really think this is unnecessary. Lupin is fond of me."

"Lupin is fond of James's son," Snape returned harshly. He let that sink in for a moment. "Or perhaps just of handsome, dark-haired boys," he added, with no more mercy. His eyes locked onto Harry's. "You accept my terms?"

Harry, confused, just nodded. Handsome, dark-haired boys?

"Then you may speak with the werewolf," Severus said, "on those terms."

With that, he turned and glided off, robes billowing about him in a black cloud. Harry stared after him, only partially seeing. Handsome, dark-haired boys.... That's ridiculous! he chided mentally. I know Dumbledore is desperate for a good Defense Against Dark Arts teacher, but he wouldn't appoint anyone who might molest the students!

A new thought suddenly occurred to him. Snape's not worried Lupin will kill me; he's worried that he'll ... come on to me, or something. He laughed out loud. The sound was odd and wavering in the low-ceilinged room. Professor Lupin! That's just too strange!