After Harry had finished his light lunch (first lunch? he wondered), he decided to make some tea. He took the kettle from its hook in the hearth, refilled and replaced it, and lit the fire with Incendio. As he watched the crackling flames, it occurred to him that, unlike the duel, that was unsupervised magic, and therefore illegal.

He found the tea and put two spoonfuls in the pot, then poked around the kitchen a bit. The cabinet with the tea also had a small, but odd collection of spices: whole cloves and allspice; nutmegs; two types of cinnamon bark, curled into irregular straws; beautiful star anise; thin fennel seeds; some seeds that were oily, segmented, and black, looking rather like mouse droppings, but smelling bright and sweet and intense; little round seeds that smelled like some part of curry; littler round seeds that smelled like mustard... No herbs, Harry noticed. Next to the spices was a black ceramic mortar and pestle, and kitchen muslin. Harry took a few of the fennel seeds to munch on, and went on to the next cabinet.

This had a few grains -- barley, millet, rice, oats, and something Harry thought was wheat -- two kinds of flour, sugar cubes, treacle, and some unlabelled powders. The next cabinet contained small amounts of a few potions ingredients, some of them poisonous, measuring scales and droppers, and several bottled potions. Harry was glad he'd taken the fennel, which he could identify, not the enticingly fragrant black stuff that looked like mouse droppings. The next, magically cooled, cabinet contained an unopened pint of milk, clotted cream, and five dead, gutted moles, neatly laid out in a row on their backs.

"I don't want to know," Harry muttered, and went on to the last cabinet, which had two small, covered cauldrons (empty, to Harry's relief); three plates, four bowls, and some cups, saucers, and glasses; and skewers, tongs, spoons, and some other cooking implements.

"Okay, so he cooks," Harry murmured to himself, "but not much. Maybe only when he wants to poison somebody." Harry thought about the muslin. "He may do his own mulling."

Harry poured the now-boiling water into the teapot, cleared his dishes from the heavy, age-darkened table, and was half-way through washing them before he realized that he could have just left them for the house elves.

"Bet they'll be offended," he muttered, rinsing the plate. He dried his hands, poured himself some tea, and, and added some of the milk, while willfully ignoring the dead moles. He took the tea out to the living room, and sat at the end of the sofa. As he drank it, he surveyed the room.

The door to the bathroom was slightly ajar. Harry had been in it, but only as long as necessary. "That next, then. I need a bath, anyway." Harry felt his neck for the state of the sunburn. It had gone down to itchy, and while it was still too tender to scratch, he thought he could endure warm water, as long as it wasn't too warm.

He had just finished his tea when he heard a strange noise at the door. It sounded less like someone knocking than like someone bumping into the door several times, or perhaps dumping a pile of books against the door. He hurried over.

"Hello?" he called. He couldn't hear anything. A movement to the side caught his eye, and he noticed a small mirror, hung by the door, was not reflecting the room, but rather showing the hallway. An owl was crashing into the door, bouncing off, and doing it again. Harry had a panicked moment of thinking the Ministry had noticed his spell and he was about to get expelled, before realizing that the owl was Pigwidgeon. He opened the door, and was hit in the forehead by a chirruping ball of feathers.

"Hello, Pig."

He coaxed Pig back into the kitchen, which had fewer breakable objects, got the little owl some water, and settled down at the table to read Ron's letter.

Dear Harry,

I'm hoping Pig can find you. What happened with the Dursleys? I don't for a moment believe you killed them. (Not that I'd blame you if you had, mate!) If I see Percy, I'll hit him with everything we've ever used on Malfoy, and then some! You should have seen Mum -- she was a terror, this morning. She made him a Howler like you wouldn't believe, then didn't send it. Instead she wrote him a second, polite letter saying she understood that he no longer wished to be part of the family, and she accepted his decision. (When Mum gets that sort of polite, it's much worse than yelling.) She sent it off and has been bawling ever since. Ginny just went down to make her some tea and rub her shoulders and such, until Dad gets home.

Is all that stuff about how the Dursleys treated you true? You only told me about some of it, but then, you never told me about the bars on your window, which I saw, so I guess you don't tell me everything. I know you don't like to talk about that place. Still, I know better than to believe what I read in that paper!

If you can, send back a note so that we know you're safe. That would make Mum feel better too.

Does this have anything to do with the question you asked me last week? I'm afraid Mum talked to Dumbledore about it, but he told her he's quite sure of your parentage.

Take care,

Ron

Harry frowned. After Snape's visit to the Dursley's, he had forgotten his father's stated reason for the appearance. He also hated to think that he was making Mrs. Weasley unhappy, even if it wasn't really his fault. After thinking for a while, hampered by the distraction of Pig zooming about the room twittering, he composed a reply:

Ron,

Of course I didn't kill the Dursleys! I'd just run away, and didn't hear about it until later. I suppose it does look suspicious though. I am safe (well, as safe as I ever am) and have been in touch with Dumbledore.

I'm sorry to be causing problems in your family, though maybe it's for the best that your Mum finally give up on Percy. The more I think about it, the more I wonder why he wasn't in Slytherin. Talk about unfettered ambition!

Give her my love, please, and tell her I'll talk to her when I can.

The Paternity Charm thing wasn't about me. Some git prankster decided to write me a letter claiming that Malfoy was my bastard half-brother, saying that he wouldn't look so much like his father unless his mother had imposed the look using the Paternity Charm. I've looked it up, though, and it doesn't work like that. Only the traits of the biological father are replaced, so the extent of resemblance (or at least, inherited traits -- I suppose they could be recessives (things that don't show, but get passed on)) would be the same. Of course, I immediately suspected your brothers, but I realized I was wrong and have tracked down the actual perpetrator. I'm not going to give you the name, as I have already extracted appropriate vengeance. ("Appropriate", note! Nothing awful.)

I'll send more information on my whereabouts when I can. Don't write me again until I write to you. Both our owls are pretty distinctive.

Harry

Harry gave Pig the reply. "Go home, now," he said. "No stopping for anyone else, and don't give this to anyone but Ron."

The next morning, Harry found woke to find himself alone in the rooms, though he thought he had heard Snape come in, just as he was dropping off to sleep. A house elf appeared out of nowhere and asked him what he would like for breakfast. Harry had shrugged and said "whatever." That, he thought a few minutes later, as he surveyed the laden table, had been a mistake. He now had porridge, dry cereal, milk, cream, fried eggs, fried bread, grilled tomatoes, two kinds of sausage, bacon, kippers, mushrooms, a rack of toast, butter, clotted cream, marmalade, jam, and chutney arrayed in intimidating ranks before him. While Harry was wondering what bits of it to attempt, he heard the door to the hall open and close. Snape walked into the kitchen a moment later, and stopped to gawk.

"You are not eating that," he declared.

"I just asked for breakfast," Harry explained, letting his dismay and amusement show. Snape snorted.

"The house elves are bored," he explained. "It happens every summer. They'll give you a seven-course luncheon, if you're not specific." He went to the cabinet and took out two plates and a bowl. "We'll consider it breakfast for two, then."

"Two?" Harry questioned incredulously. "Sure you wouldn't like to invite a few friends?"

He regretted the words immediately. There was a moment of very tense silence, then Snape said:

"I don't believe you'd survive most of my friends, Harry."

"Or they wouldn't survive me," Harry countered.

"Possibly," Snape acknowledged.

Harry wondered to what extent Snape actually considered those people friends, but he did not dare ask.

"Did anything happen yesterday?" Snape asked.

"I got a letter from Ron in the afternoon, and Hermione at night. I sent them both about the same reply, saying that of course I didn't do it, and that I had run away before it happened, and that I'd been in touch with Dumbledore. Oh -- and I told both of them not to write me again unless I wrote first."

"Good." Snape topped a slice of dry toast with ginger marmalade. "Did you have owl treats?"

"No -- I'd run out before I left the Dursleys."

"Ah. Well, I keep some dead rodents in the fourth cabinet." Snape gestured. "The owls, especially the bigger ones, hate flying so far through the corridors. Rewarding them promptly encourages quicker delivery of the post."

"So that what those are for!" Harry exclaimed. He hoped he didn't sound as relieved as he felt. Snape looked amused. "I didn't dare give one to Pig. I was afraid they might be poisoned, or something."

"No. Anything you might want to drop in someone's tea is in the third cabinet." Snape smiled unpleasantly. "Don't touch anything in there. Some of the labels are ... erroneous."

"I'll keep that in mind. Is everything that looks like food, food?"

"Yes." Snape looked at him curiously. "Can you cook?"

"Of course I can cook! You think the Dursleys had a house elf? Other than me, I mean?"

"I won't pity you for that, Harry." Snape commented coldly. "Too many wizards lack basic skills."

Harry nodded. "All right. Yes, I know how to cook," he said. "And I can clean without magic, and garden. Oh! I wasn't thinking, and lit the fire with a spell, yesterday, when I was making tea. Will I get in trouble?"

Snape sighed. "No one is likely to notice, but you should not have. Perhaps you should leave your wand in your room, except when you will be going outside."

Harry nodded. "That makes sense."

Snape ate some of the toast, then volunteered a comment. "I saw this morning's paper."

"Was that why you were out?"

"Yes. That and to speak to Dumbledore."

"Well?"

"There were many letters to the editor, of course -- vilifying you, defending you, demanding that it be made legal to kill any Muggle that intentionally harms a wizard -- all manner of things. The front page article, however, had two new data points. First, the Aurors have determined that your aunt's car was magically interfered with."

"What?!" Harry yelled.

"This means to me, though the Daily Prophet did not see things as clearly, that the Dark Lord deduced the effect of killing your remaining relatives. The attack was planned to follow the 'accident,' which was also planned."

"But that.... Shouldn't you have known?"

"Yes." Snape grimaced. "And that is disturbing. When I thought the attack may have been opportunistic, I was not as worried that I was not informed. However, if the Dark Lord so deeply distrusts me that I was not informed of a plotted attack, I have a serious problem."

Harry frowned at his toast. "Maybe not," he said. Snape's eyebrows lifted enquiringly. "Now, I mean. Vold-- er, Tom didn't tell you, but I found out anyway, right? Or so it would seem. I left minutes before the attack -- probably we were both waiting for dark. That would suggest that the security breach was someone other than you."

Snape gave a nod of approval. "Yes." He nodded again, to himself. "Dumbledore -- I will advise him that we say he summoned you. I will rail to the Dark Lord about being kept in the dark, and say I could have watched for such a move." He smiled slightly. "Very good, Harry. I have been too distracted...."

"Where were you, yesterday?"

"Working on Potions, mainly. Ah. The news."

"There's more?"

"Yes. A better item, for you. Stan and Ernie, of the Knight Bus, told the paper that you were on their bus at the time of the murder, somewhere over Cumbria. There's a rather lengthy interview with them. The paper even tracked down one of the other riders, an old witch from some unpronounceable Welsh town, who said you helped her with her Kneazle's traveling carrier."

Harry nodded. "It barely fit through the door. She just needed it steadied, really."

"Yes, well, I expect they're all talking to Aurors, now. By this time tomorrow, everyone should be blathering about how they knew all along that it wasn't you."

They finished their respective portions of the breakfast in silence. Harry poured himself more tea.

"Would you like more, sir?" he asked automatically. Snape nodded consent.

"I ..." Snape frowned at the cup. "I'll be busy most of the day, again. Is there anything you need before I leave?"

Harry felt very odd. The question seemed both too general and too unexpected to answer.

"Well?" Snape demanded. "What is that look for?"

"I.... You've no idea how strange it is to be asked that. I've no idea. Why would you care? I mean, people don't ask that, unless they're selling you something." Harry wondered briefly if Dumbledore was paying Snape to look after him, but decided that neither man would play his part in that.

Snape looked coldly at him. "Considering you appear to know the complete contents of my kitchen already, I would rather you not feel the need to forage for whatever you may feel necessary."

"Oh. Sorry." Harry looked down. "I stayed out of your bedroom."

"Believe me," Snape sneered, "I would know, had you not."

"Ah." Harry thought. "Well, I still need to do the practical Potions assignment."

"Procrastination, Harry?"

"I couldn't figure out how to get the components," Harry explained. "The Dursleys weren't about to buy them for me, and I couldn't risk them finding out I had money in the wizarding world. I'd dropped a hint to Hermione, and hoped she'd send them as a present, but she didn't."

"So you want to know if you can raid the school stores," Snape guessed.

"Or if I could go into Diagon Alley early."

"You can get potions ingredients in Hogsmeade, you know."

"Can I get money, though?"

Snape stared. "Of course you can get money!"

"Really? I've always been to my vault."

"Gringotts prefers it, but if you go to another branch, they can have the adjustments made." Snape looked back at the paper. "We'll take a trip into Hogsmeade, but I am not helping you once I've shown you to the apothecary. Part of the assignment is seeing if you can acquire the correct components."

"Today?" Harry was excited about the prospect of going into the wizarding village. Even with Snape along, he ought to be able to enjoy it, he reasoned.

"In case you have forgotten, Mr-- Harry, you stand accused of murder. You will attract unwelcome attention. Furthermore, I do not have time, today, as I have already told you. If your reputation continues to improve, we will go tomorrow. In addition to the apothecary visit, I would like to get you some acceptable clothing as soon as possible."

Harry felt at once annoyed that Snape would interfere with what he wore and strangely pleased that he thought it mattered.

"May I have trousers, at least?" he demanded

"I have no objection to decent trousers."

"Good." Harry bit his lip. "You know, you don't seem too bad, as a guardian. Sirius would have been more...."

"Indulgent?" Snape suggested.

"Sort of. And affectionate. But he.... Well, nevermind." Harry didn't want to talk about Sirius to someone who had hated him -- certainly not when what he had to say was less than fully complimentary. Harry pressed his thumb into a leftover crust of toast, crushing it into crumbs. "What do think it takes to be a good father?"

Even in its neutral phrasing, the question made him wince as soon as it left his mouth. Snape considered it impassively.

"I expect," he said, "that it would require being a good person, which I am not." His face was slightly scornful as he looked at Harry. "Of course, your expectations are so low as to be virtually non-existent."

Harry laughed. "You know," he confided, "I agreed to go live with Sirius half-an-hour after meeting him, though I'd had him at wand-point most of that. Being convinced he wasn't a mass murderer was enough for me. If you hadn't let Pettigrew escape...."

Snape stood up. "You must understand, Harry, that it was scarcely credible Pettigrew could manage such a thing, while Black customarily charmed people into believing the most ridiculous tales. Certainly he could hoodwink three children and his pet werewolf."

Snape looked almost sympathetic as he nodded. "Yes." He looked appraisingly at Harry. "You might want to consider...."

"What?"

"I am a mass murderer." With that, Snape turned and left, his boots clicking sharply against the stone floor, muting over the carpet, then clicking again as he left it. The outer door closed behind him with a muted clunk of wood against stone. Harry sat quietly in the kitchen while he waited for his heart to stop racing.

"Okay, James," he murmured. "Still kind of creepy. Agreed."

After finishing his tea, Harry decided to distract himself by perfecting his other homework. He spent some time in the library, adding additional information and references to his summer Transfiguration essay. Madam Pince was able to teach him a spell that created a copy of James's letter, as well. Afterwards, he prowled around the empty classrooms on the second floor. Everything looked very still and old in the summer silence. He stared out a dusty window at the bright summer day. His attention moved to the distant pennants of the Quidditch stands. He wished he could fly. He decided to go see if Dumbledore was available, so he could ask him if he had found the ring, yet.

On the stairs, he met Remus Lupin.

"Harry!" Lupin said brightly. "Good to see you. I've been busy settling in, but I think I'm nearly through it."

"Good."

"I've reviewed what you learned last year...."

"Useless propaganda."

"To put it rudely, yes," Lupin agreed. He sighed. "I recall you taught some students supplemental lessons...."

Harry shuddered. He had, and then led some of them off on wild goose chase that had cost Sirius his life.

Remus seemed to understand what Harry was thinking. "The lessons themselves, Harry, were a good idea. I'd like to know who was in the group and what they learned, so they can possibly help me with coaching, to bring the others up to speed as quickly as possible."

Numbly, Harry nodded.

"I was just heading back to my rooms for some lunch. Perhaps you could come with me and discuss it now?"

Harry hesitated. What he really wanted to talk about was Sirius, and Lupin was possibly the only person in the world he could talk to about Sirius. On the other hand, the sudden revival of his guilt had taken him by surprise -- he supposed he simply hadn't had the energy for it, before -- and he didn't want to break down in front of Lupin. He was strongly aware of the contents of his schoolbag -- in with the books and essays was James's letter, and the copy of it that Madam Pince had just shown him how to make. He wanted to show the letter to Lupin, as desperately as he had on the day he read the section on Severus and the Marauders, but he knew he couldn't. He couldn't tell Lupin about his parentage. Not only had he promised to keep it a secret, for now, but ... Harry suspected he was being foolish, but couldn't quite get past the idea that Lupin might not bother with him, anymore. Lupin likes James's son.

"Would another time be better?" Lupin asked gently.

Harry suddenly remembered his promise to Snape. "No, it's.... This is silly, but I promised Professor Snape I wouldn't visit you without telling him first. He says he won't bother me about visiting you, but only if I tell him where and when. I think he's in his lab, now...."

"Honestly!" Lupin rolled his eyes. The gesture did not quite cover his hurt look. He raised a hand to forestall Harry's attempted response. "Very well, I rescind the invitation. Really, Harry -- I know you've braved dragons and basilisks and all number of things, but you don't want to disturb Severus Snape while he's brewing!" Lupin smiled engagingly. "Instead, I invite you to come with me to the Three Broomsticks, noon tomorrow. I have errands to run in Hogsmeade, and I've heard you do, as well." He smiled mischievously. "Tell him that, and let me know what he says."

During the afternoon, Harry was summoned to Dumbledore's office, where two Aurors -- one of them, reassuringly, Tonks -- took his testimony on what he had done the day the Dursley's were attacked. Tonks performed Priori Incantantum on Harry's wand, and Harry, who had forgotten about the duel, had to explain the huge number of hexes he had cast the previous day. He was never questioned about Incendio.

"Well, whatever else you may have been up to," Tonks teased, after getting back to spells Harry had cast during spring term, "you didn't hex your aunt's car."

"With this wand," her partner amended. He smiled apologetically at Tonks's indignant glare. "No offense, Tonks, but we've got to be precise for the report." He glanced over at Harry. "I don't think he did it either."

Harry was dismissed without a chance to socialize, though Tonks gave him a wink as he was leaving.

Snape showed up at the end of the afternoon, looking pleased.

"Nothing exploded, I take it?" Harry asked.

"Nothing exploded," Snape agreed. "In fact, my new compound seems to work as I predicted, though I will need further testing to be completely certain." He shrugged. Harry thought he looked uncommonly relaxed. "For once, I found myself at a good stopping point near a meal time. How was your day?"

"Mostly boring," Harry replied. "I went up to the library to add some things to my essays -- I've spent so much time on my summer work this year that Hermione would probably approve of it. On the way back, I ran into Professor Lupin, and he invited me back to his rooms for lunch, which probably would have been the highlight of my day, but I told him I'd promised you I'd tell you if I was going to visit him, and then he looked hurt. I might have gone anyway, but I'd been brooding about things, and knew if I went somewhere alone with him I'd want to tell him everything."

Snape nodded. "Secrecy is important right now."

"You'd think Dumbledore would want the Order to know."

Snape shook his head. "Your parentage has nothing to do with what makes you significant, in this game. And don't say 'the Order.'"

"What do I say?" Harry asked sarcastically. "'You-Know-What?'"

"Say, 'the old crowd' or 'his old crowd,' or whatever form blends best with the context."

"Not your old crowd."

"No. My old crowd is mostly dead, or in Azkaban. Of course, his old crowd is mostly dead."

Harry stared at Snape. The man's face was lined, but his hair was black. He did some quick arithmetic in his head.

"You're still in your thirties, aren't you? You and Lupin and Peter and most of the Death Eaters...."

Snape's face twisted unpleasantly. "Yes." He surveyed Harry with something between scorn and pity. "You will be old even younger, I fear."

Harry snickered. "Should I live so long."

"Don't fall into that."

"Into what?"

"Plan to live. It encourages you to make choices you can live with."

The comment reminded Harry of James writing that Severus had a death wish. He glanced toward his room, where he had put his schoolbag.

"Point taken. Um ... two quick things?"

"Go ahead."

"Lupin invited me to meet him in the Three Broomsticks at noon, tomorrow. He said he knew I had shopping to do."

Snape frowned. For a moment his mouth stayed tightly closed, then he said, "I can't object to that, I suppose. And I'd been wondering how to bring you into Hogsmeade without it being obvious I could easily kidnap you. If Lupin walks there with us, and then the two of you go off," Snape grimaced, "it will seem as if he is to watch me. He can bring you to Gladrags at one o'clock, and I'll arrange cover for the return. Sufficient?"

Harry nodded, pleased. "The other thing is that I was called into Dumbledore's office, and interrogated by a couple of Aurors."

"What?"

"Well, it wasn't a big deal. I mean, one of them was Tonks, right? But they performed Priori Incantantum on my wand, so I had to explain all the hexes from yesterday."

"Oh hell!" Despite the annoyed exclamation, Snape looked rather amused.

"So Dumbledore may ask you why we were dueling. You can tell him I was just in a bad mood, or that we decided to try Occlumency after I was emotionally burned out, or whatever you like. I just told them it was a practice duel."

"Still, the headmaster should have warned me they were here! Anything else?"

Harry looked down, feeling suddenly shy. "Um... the letter?"

"What letter?"

"The one I got from James. Do you still want to read it?"

When Snape did not reply, Harry forced himself to look up. Snape was staring at him, fear and longing surprisingly plain on his usually wry or angry face.

"When I was up at the library, I asked Madam Pince to show me how to copy a manuscript. She taught me a charm, and I copied the letter for you." Harry stood up. "I'll go get it. Just one thing...."

"What?"

"You can't make fun of anything he said, or use it against me. It's a personal letter, and I can't cut out the personal parts, because they're too interwoven."

Snape looked down. "Agreed."

"May I see her letter to you?"

"Is that a condition?"

"No."

"I will consider it."

When Harry handed the letter to Snape, Snape's hands were shaking, but, to Harry's surprise, he tucked the letter into an inner pocket of his robes.

"I suspect that if I want to eat dinner, I will need to do it first. Have you spoken to the kitchen elves, yet?"