Monday night dinner was Ron's favourite pot roast, and while he ate with his regular gusto, Harry noticed that he seemed to be rather preoccupied by something, while Hermione was rather excited.  A few post owls straggled in as the plates refilled themselves with second helpings, and the trio watched as a large brown owl made its way to the staff table and land in front of Snape.

"Well Ronald, if you'd bothered to study with me some evenings instead of stare off into space all the time, you wouldn't need to be so worried about your marks." Hermione rolled her eyes and set aside her cutlery.  Harry glanced up and saw Snape give the owl some chinks of roast as he accepted the scroll.

"You're lucky Harry, the Dursleys don't care what your marks are." Ron pouted, moving his plate for dessert.

"Mmmh." Harry nodded around a mouth of mashed potato, which he almost spat out when he realized what the owl had delivered.

"I wonder what Snape got in the mail." Hermione pondered, her eyes on the staff table.  "He looks rather pleased, whatever it is."

Harry's cheeks flushed a rather warm shade of red, knowing that Snape had just read his report card.  He felt foolishly proud that Snape was sitting in the Great Hall, calm and collected while he checked his son's grades.

"Looks like a school owl.  Could you imagine if someone's report card was sent home to Snape?" Ron smirked, snatching the first of the butter tarts that appeared in the center of the table. 

Harry leaned towards Hermione and spoke in a loud stage whisper.  "Studying is not the problem. The problem is that Ron studies you, and not the material."

........

At nine pm the only people still wandering about in the hallways on the fourth floor were the upper students who were just leaving the library, or slipping in for one more book before it closed for the evening.  Midterms may have ended not a week before, but essays were piling up by the day.  Harry led his friends as they walked past a gargoyle who seemed to have allergies, as it kept sniffling loudly every few minutes.  Harry had his invisibility cloak hidden under his robes in case they stayed out past curfew, but as it was a Tuesday, they hoped that they wouldn't be out too late.   After all, most students were caught out of curfew on the weekend nights.

Harry withdrew his map and activated it as they edged closer to the grouping of mirrors and portraits where the passageway was.  Ron and Hermione kept a nonchalant look out to see if any other students were headed their way while Harry stepped up to an old mirror in an ornate but slightly tarnished silver frame. Around the edges of the mirror had built up residue, causing the reflection at this part to become slightly blurred.   Harry took a look at his map again before tapping his wand on the mirror.

"Through the looking glass."  Harry murmured, stepping back as the mirror shimmered and became a window.  Behind it was a jumbled mass of rock, and Harry was only slightly surprised to find that his hand went through the glass when he went to touch it.  All three quickly stepped through, before anyone could notice how it had opened.

Inside the passageway was remarkably colder than the air in the castle hallway, and there was rubble scattered about the rather large opening.  Harry noted that the fallen rock here seemed to be the same shade and type of rock that he'd seen wandering through the castle on a few occasions now.  The only problem was that the passage was still completely blocked. It looked like no one had been in there in a few years, not since the twins had discovered its destruction.

"I don't think Malfoy's doing anything in here."  Ron said, poking at the blockage with his wand.

"Not unless he's covered his work up with a glamour or something."  Harry replied, studying the wall with a frown.

"Has Malfoy actually been coming here?  After all, the map told you how to get in."  Hermione pointed out.

"Let me look at the map, I'll see if Malfoy's skulking around."  Ron said, taking the offered map from Harry and starting to scan it.

"True, but from what we heard from Diagon Alley, Malfoy's planning something he needs to be delivered here. And he mentioned a chalice to that Greyback bloke, maybe he's bringing in poison."  Harry wondered, trying to remember what else they'd overheard in Diagon Alley.

"Ron?"  Hermione's voice broke through, sounding concerned and uncertain.  Harry looked up to see Ron staring at him, his face pale but his eyes flashing.

"Who are you?" Ron growled in a low voice, glaring directly at Harry.

Harry's eyes flicked down to Ron's hands, which were clenched around the Marauder's map.   Realisation sunk in and colour drained from Harry's face.

"It's not what you think."  Harry blurted, holding up his hands in a useless effort to placate Ron.

"Who the hell are you?"  Ron snarled, shoving the map towards Hermione.  "Snape? Are you polyjuiced? Have you been spying on us?"

"What? Don't be a prat, Ron."  Harry choked, taken back by the accusation. "My legal name changed, that's all." 

"Right, and you think I'm stupid enough to believe that my best friend would become a Snape." Ron scoffed, stepping forward and shoving Harry.

"I am your best friend! Who else would know that you sleep with a one eared stuffed bunny and that you have wank magazines hidden in the broken bookshelf in your room at the Burrow?"  Harry demanded, his face going hot with anger.  "You're terrified of spiders, you have Chudley Cannon underpants, you drool when you sleep in Divination, and you want to become a kid's book author more than being an auror!"

"That doesn't prove anything! My best friend would have told me that he'd changed his name to Elliot Bloody Snape!"  Ron yelled back, face burning red.  He was standing closer to Harry, and they were both puffing their chests out in a ridiculous display of male fighting hormones.  Hermione studied the map with a sad smile on her face.

"Did you ever think I couldn't tell you, Ron?" Harry asked, his voice dripping with sarcasm.  "That maybe if the world knew Snape adopted me that it might, I don't know, make even more people want to kill us?"  Harry crossed his arms and glared back at Ron, oblivious to Hermione.

"No, ‘cause I didn't know! But that's how it is then, Snape?  That greasy ex death eater is good enough for you, but my family isn't?"

"I love your family Ron, they're the first real family I had!"  Harry blurted, rather exasperated and taking a step forward. Ron shoved him back hard, and he tripped over loose stones on the ground, falling down and landing hard.

"I don't want to hear it. And I have nothing else to say to you."  Ron stomped his feet and disappeared through the mirror, leaving Harry on the ground to stare at the empty space.

"Harry?"  Hermione crouched down and stole his attention.  Her gaze searched his stunned face, and she placed a hand on his knee.

"You alright?"

"I'm fine."  Harry said, coughing out a harsh laugh. He knew he sounded like he was about to cry.

"It'll be okay.  I'm sure Professor Snape is a very good guardian for you, and he's got very useful things to teach you."  She gave him a warm smile, and Harry found that her optimism didn't bother him as much as he thought it should.

"I couldn't tell you."  Harry said, keeping his eyes at his knees.  The map lay folded by his feet, still activated.

"I know." Hermione replied, standing up again. She picked up the map and scanned it with her eyes.

"Do you know that spell still, the one you cast over the DA member list?"  Harry questioned, climbing slowly to his feet.  "This has to remain a secret, I was telling the truth about the threat."

"Well I won't give him warts, but I'll get Ron to keep quiet."  Hermione reassured with a wicked smile.  "Want to walk with me back to the Tower?"

"No. I think I'll just walk around for a while."  Harry said softly, wiping his hands on his jeans and noticing that there was a slight sting to his palms.

"Be careful."  Hermione told him, giving him a pat on the shoulder as she slipped out of the mirror with the map and went off in search of Ron. 

Harry waited a minute and then unfolded his invisibility cloak, noticing that his palms were dirty and had road-rash like cuts on them from where he fell back on the rock rubble.

Well aware that Hermione was probably tracking him on the map as well as Ron, Harry walked silently down the darkened hall, curfew starting in less than ten minutes.  He passed by the Fat Friar, who was having a lively conversation with a group of rogue travellers in a portrait by the sixth floor stairs.   Harry climbed higher, unseen through the cloak, and headed towards the seventh floor hallway.  His head was hung down, and he allowed himself time to wallow in self-pity. 

Ron's first reactions to things were usually stupid and hot headed, which was a fact Harry knew very well from being Ron's best friend, and partner in crime, for so many years.  But it still hurt to know that Ron had immediately assumed the worse, assumed that Harry wasn't even himself, without giving Harry time to explain.  Was Ron actually jealous that Harry had been adopted by Snape?   Harry paced back and forth in the hall and replayed the short and rapid fight they'd had.  It seemed that Ron figured his family wasn't good enough for Harry, that Harry thought he deserved better.

Or something like that, Harry wondered darkly as he pulled open the ornate wooden door and walked to the lone fireplace in the room. He'd expected Ron to be a little difficult with the identity of his new parent, but he didn't expect those accusations.  Harry threw a handful of floo powder into the flames and stepped in, speaking the Russian word for home.  The spinning halted for a moment for Harry to give the password, and then the room of requirement blurred away as he spun towards the living room of Snape's flat.

Snape wasn't home, and Harry figured that he had a staff meeting of sorts, or perhaps was first on patrol that evening.  He flopped down on the couch, setting a real fire in the fireplace, and facing an internal struggle.  He probably was best to have tea, even though it was late, but then again, Snape had whiskey in his cupboard and getting drunk seemed like a brilliant idea.  The after effects, especially Snape's reaction, perhaps not so great.  Harry settled on the tea, summoning Dobby to bring it, but also got out the whiskey and put it on the table in front of him.

"Dobby?"  Harry asked, rubbing his head. He had a bit of a headache, which was mostly likely from trying not to cry.

"Yes, Master Harry?"

"Can you change the password on my trunk? The one in my dorm?"  Harry took his shoes off and stood up, walking towards the bookcase.  He had no desire to go to bed so early, and thought a book might distract him.

"Dobby is changing that right away.  To what, Harry Potter sir?"  Dobby poured the tea elegantly out of the pot and had brought along biscuits as well.

"Fyodor." Harry replied, running his fingers along the spines of the books before settling on some old yearbooks of Hogwarts.  He wasn't sure why Snape had them, as they were from the 1950's, but they'd do for distraction. 

Harry transfigured a sheet of parchment into two linen wraps, covering the palms of his hands so he wouldn't get any blood or dirt on the books.  His hands were stinging, but he didn't mind the pain, not at this point.

He walked past the kitchen, pausing when he saw something stuck to the icebox.  At Spinner's End Snape usually stuck whatever muggle house bill was currently due on the fridge, but at Hogwarts Harry was certain there weren't any bills as such.  He was pretty sure that part of Snape's salary was full housing.  Stepping closer, Harry saw with a warm lurch that it was his report card stuck up there.  His grades were pretty good so far, divination the only one less than Exceeds Expectations, and Snape had found it good enough to put on the fridge.

Feeling slightly better, Harry sat down on the couch with his tea and started flipping through the yearbooks.  Snape quietly entered the room an hour later, robe and shoes already off.  Harry felt him staring from the door, and realised that he looked a bit of a mess sitting on the couch in dirty jeans, an old over large sweatshirt of Dudley's, dust in his hair and badly wrapped scratched hands.  He knew his eyes were probably a bit red too, but Harry kept his glance down at the yearbook instead of looking up.

"Have you found my mother?"  Snape finally asked, sitting down in the chair nearest the fire and moving the whiskey bottle out of Harry's reach.

"I didn't drink any of it."  Harry mumbled, hoping that Snape believed him.

"Hmm."  Snape made a non-committal noise and pulled a small notepad out of his pocket, tossing it on the coffee table. It looked like one that he carried around to make notes in during the day, little reminders to himself.

Harry stared down at the book, at the seventh year graduating class and the picture of Eileen Prince that he'd found.  The high sallow cheekbones and lanky black hair pooled with the dark eyes were rather unmistakable, but he pointed at the photo anyway.  "This is your mum?"

Snape glanced over as he took off his watch.  "Yes."

"Is your dad in here?"  Harry had checked already, but he flipped back through the pages to the S section anyway.

"No. He was a muggle."  Snape stood and put the whiskey back in the cupboard.  

"Did he kill her?"  Harry asked softly, watching the glare that Eileen Prince gave the camera.   He missed the bewildered look Snape gave him.

"Wherever did you get that stupid idea? No, he did not."

"In your memory, he was screaming at her. You were crying."  Harry replied, closing the book softly.

Snape huffed his annoyance, but answered anyway.  "Of course he was yelling. She tried to poison him.  Would you care to explain why you've arrived here looking like an extra on an Indiana Jones film?"

"I think I figured out where the stones are coming from. A passage on the fourth floor, behind one of the mirrors."   Harry answered, putting the book down and getting up to put his mug in the kitchen sink.

"You discovered this by falling into the dirt?"  Snape asked, eyebrow raised.

"Ron pushed me."  Harry admitted, feeling stupid that he'd gotten upset about it. Ron was always flying off the broomstick when he was surprised badly.  "He saw the Marauder's map, and my name."

"And the hot headed Mr. Weasley is no longer speaking to you?"  Snape asked, as perceptive as he usually was. 

"No. Well, he had a few things to say first." Harry felt himself getting angry again, and picked at the linen wrap around his wand hand.

"Leave that alone. Weasleys have always been hot tempered."

Snape pointed his wand at Harry's hands and muttered a general healing spell before pushing Harry towards the small hallway, not stopping despite Harry's weak protests.

"Go to bed. And leave those disgusting clothes on the chair, Twinky is stopping by tomorrow."

.........

Harry spent the next two days oddly reminiscent of his fourth year, after the Goblet of Fire had spit his name out for the tri-wizard tournament.  Other students spoke to him as normal, but between Ron and himself was an icy sort of silence.  The other boys in the dorm were uncomfortably aware that there was a problem, but were smart enough not to ask. Instead, they just averted their eyes as Ron stormed into his room at night, a glare on his face as he glanced at Harry's bed seconds before shutting the curtains on his own.  

Harry moved slower, going about his nightly routine like normal, and sitting on his bed for a moment to think, before closing his own curtains.  He always gave a feeble goodnight to Neville, Dean and Seamus, but refused to explain what had happened.

On Thursday afternoon, as Harry made the trek back to Gryffindor tower walking silently behind Ron and Hermione, a short first year with bushy blond hair and olive coloured eyes tripped up to them.

"I've a note for Harry Potter."  He said, looking a little breathless.  He was a Ravenclaw, and though he seemed a bit awkward in his body, Harry saw eagerness in his eyes.

Harry took the note with a thanks, and read it quickly.  His friends had stopped walking, Hermione looking at him with interest and Ron with suspicion.

"It's from Dumbledore, I've got another lesson with him." 

Hermione smiled and wished him luck, while Ron looked like he was fighting with himself over whether to say something or not.  He turned hesitantly and stalked off, while Harry folded the note silently.

........

Tom Marvolo Riddle was the most narcisstic and conceited bastard that Harry had ever heard of. Not even Draco Malfoy could compete with the type of lunacy Harry had picked up from the memories Dumbledore had showed him.  And to put pieces of his soul into random objects, to ensure he'd live forever?  Well not random, but that made it worse.  Completely off his fucking rocker.

"Professor Snape told me that you've found a secret corridor on the fourth floor?"  Dumbledore broke in mildly, changing the subject without warning.

"Yeah. I think that Malfoy is going to use it to bring people into Hogwarts."  Harry said, getting agitated. Dumbledore was eerily calm at hearing this news.

"I do believe you're right. I want you to leave it be, Harry."  Dumbledore asked unwrapping a lemon drop.

"What?"  Harry asked, staring at the headmaster.  Dumbledore had playfully tossed Harry a lemon drop, and it sailed passed his shoulder without him giving a thought.

"I am aware of Mr. Malfoy's plans, Harry. And I ask that you do not put yourself at risk and try to intercept them."  Dumbledore looked intently at Harry.

"You know he's trying to kill you, and you don't care."  Harry repeated.

"Oh yes Harry, I do care."  Dumbledore asserted.  "I do not wish for Draco Malfoy to become a killer.  I want him to have the opportunity to do the right thing. To be able to make that choice, and he needs the time to make that choice."

"When will I have that choice, Professor? I never have, and it has cost me my parents and a normal life so far."  Harry had stood up from his seat, and he felt like smashing things in the office once again.   Dumbledore had the grace to look slightly embarrassed.

"Harry, when you were a baby I made the best choice that I could to keep you safe, and prevent you from growing up in a world where people knew more about you than you did yourself."

Harry ignored this, reassuring himself that he did have a family now and that no matter what stupid mess he got himself into, Snape would care about him.  Much more than the Dursleys ever would.

"And what if he doesn't kill you?"  Harry asked, crossing his arms in a stance eerily similar to one Snape stood in when he was irritated with something. "I heard them. His mother wanted Snape to do it..." Harry trailed off as understanding hit and he saw not surprise on the headmaster's face, but a slight measure of resignation.  

"No."  Harry inched back towards the door.  "You can't ask him to."

"Harry, there are some things I cannot tell you yet, but it will work out..."  Dumbledore rose, managing to make himself still look slightly shameful.

"NO!  Don't tell me that! Don't tell me I will understand some day, I don't want to hear it."  Harry backed up against the door and pointed his finger at Dumbledore, baring it like a wand.  "It wasn't enough that you took Sirius away from me last year. Now you want to take him too?"

"Harry, no one is taking Professor Snape from you."  Dumbledore replied, his voice strong as he stood still.  "The curse in my hand is slowly killing me. When the time comes, if Draco chooses the light, I need someone who will show mercy to an old man."

Harry stared at the blackened shrivelled hand, and then at the objects on the table he now had a name for. Horcruxes.  He looked back at the man he used to regard as his hero, and was reminded of people too lost in the details to see the bigger picture anymore.

"Will you deserve it?"  Harry asked quietly, feeling like a complete arse.  He didn't dare meet the headmaster's eyes as he left the office.

.........

Harry shuffled into the great hall on Friday morning looking as ghastly as he felt.  He'd not slept at all the night before, finally casting a silencing charm over his bed when Seamus had complained about the whittling noise at two thirty am.  Harry had mad four wooden owls, tiny ones that were currently resting in his robe pocket.  Hermione slipped into the seat next to Harry a few moments later, with Ron sitting silently across from him with a look on his face that was finally not just one of suspicion.  Apparently he looked awful enough that even Ron was slightly concerned.  Breakfast was eaten in silence, as Harry couldn't figure out for the life of him how to tell his best friends that the headmaster was attempting to appoint his own murderer.

"What'd you do to Snape, Harry?" Seamus laughed, grabbing for more bacon. "Looks like he swallowed something nasty and he's glaring at you." All attention shifted to the head table at that, where Harry found Snape's piercing black gaze staring right back at him.  Not just last semester such staring would have provoked him, but today he just managed a shrug and dropped his hand down beside his plate. After a few seconds he noticed out of the corner of his eye Snape's robes twirling as he stormed out the side entrance.

Ron had a calculated look on his face as they walked up to divination; one Harry was too tired to worry about.  He hoped that Ron would at least still be a friend enough to wake him if he started snoring in class.

.......

Snape's face remained impassive as he listened to the headmaster, the tightening of his lips the only sign of the fury that was building inside. Several of the portrait people, who well remembered Snape's strength, backed away into separate frames.  Early Friday morning meetings never brought good news, and as Snape had just discovered, this Friday seemed to be spectacularly horrid.

"Excuse me, headmaster?"  Snape asked, his voice cool and almost frozen.  "Are you saying that Potter is a horcrux?"

"His scar is, Severus.  Like his ability to speak parseltongue, it seems that some of Voldemort's powers were transferred along with the soul of his horcrux."  Dumbledore sat at the desk, sitting straight up and staring at the potions master with hard blue eyes.

"Correct me if I'm wrong, but do you not need to destroy the vessel to dispose of the horcrux?"  Snape asked, rising from his seat.

"Yes."  Dumbledore glanced at his desk and pushed the cracked ring forward, where Snape made no move towards it.

"Perhaps then you'd better explain what your plan is to destroy that particular piece of the Dark Lord."  Snape invited, glaring right through Dumbledore.

"It is my belief that Voldemort does not know of this horcrux.  As it was formed by Lily's death, by the same sacrificing magic that saved Harry, it is the one thing that is keeping Voldemort alive. As long as Harry continues to house the fragmented piece of Voldemort's soul, Voldemort cannot die.  The prophecy states that it must be at the hands of either, and if I know Harry, he will have arranged his affairs and be prepared. He will defeat Voldemort."

"And do you know Harry Potter?"  Snape asked in a low voice.  "Or are you staking this all on a prophecy told by a drunken colour-blind fraud who has yet to learn how to properly dress herself?  It says neither can live while the other survives, but it does not bother clarifying the simple fact that both can die."

 Snape had crossed his arms and was standing in a guarded stance by the door to Dumbledore's office. The headmaster had not moved from his seat, but looked down with a small amount of shame in his eyes.

"You believed it."  Dumbledore said, knowing instantly after the words left his mouth that it was the wrong thing to say.

"Of course I did!" Snape shouted, his face finally gaining colour. "I was young, stupid and enthralled by power!"

"And don't you see, Severus? Harry is not like that! Harry will know to do the right thing." Dumbledore looked patronizing and hopeful at the same time, and it made Snape want to strangle him.

"Of course he will." Snape agreed, spittle forming on his lips as he tried not to yell again. "But this time he'll do it for himself, the Slytherin way." 

"I do not doubt that he will, Severus.  He was certainly outspoken to me last night.  Seems to have picked up some traits from you already."  Dumbledore spoke, watching carefully as the compliment hit.   Snape, as predicted, showed only the slightest hint of pride. 

Snape turned and swung open the door, pausing only as he heard Dumbledore's next comment.

"There are two more lessons left, and I may need him to accompany me to the cave you found over the summer."

Snape took one look over his shoulder at his employer and mentally filtered the vulgar language out of his response.

"No.  You need my permission now for him to leave the school, and you no longer have it."

..........

Ron didn't speak one word to Harry in class, though he did cough a warning when Trelawney approached.  She stared at Harry and gave him a handful of stones to toss on the table. He did so with reluctance, watching as they skittered over the stained tablecloth.

"You, my dear, " Trelawney said in an eerie and phoney voice.  "The young collector of death.  You seek it, you seek relics, you will see a man, two men struck down..."

"Sod that." Harry grunted, his face white as he stood and clutched his bag, storming out o the room.  He didn't hear Ron explaining to their teacher that he wasn't feeling well, and he didn't also hear Ron following steps behind.  Harry angrily stomped down the stairs and round the corner, where he ran right into Snape.

"Potter, why are you not in class?" Snape growled, holding Harry by his arms and checking him over.

"I don't give a fuck about class.  She's predicting death anyway, bit surprise there."

Ron's eyes widened as he watched from around the corner, expecting Snape to react at the language.

"Everyone dies. It's the one thing you cannot possibly fail at."  Snape glanced briefly to Harry's forehead.  "Perhaps I should amend that statement."

"No, she predicted someone around me to die.  And we both know who that is." Harry snarled, trying to shrug off Snape's grip. "Maybe you'd better get away from me now, before it means you."

Ron had been taken back by the response his friend had dared give Snape off all people, but he almost dropped his bag at Snape's answer.

"Forever means forever, you idiot child. I signed those papers for life.  Let's go, Elliot."

Snape turned Harry and started to march off with him, keeping a strong grip on Harry's squirming arm.  Ron quietly walked behind them, keeping to the shadows.

"You're just giving up then? Let everyone else deal with the fallout and run away?" Harry grounded out, looking like he was about to burst with pent up anger.

"I never give up when it's important." Snape hissed.  It made Ron flinch, but Harry held his ground. "I've just had a shouting match with the headmaster, neither of us have slept, and you're throwing a tantrum. We're leaving."

Before either Ron or Harry could say anything, Snape tapped his wristwatch and they both disappeared.

..........

Ron and Hermione pounded on McGonagall's door, hoping that she'd be in.  Lunch has just started, but some professors went back to their offices before hand, and as it turned out, she was one of them.  While Ron caught his breath from running, Hermione hurriedly retold what she knew, that Snape had disappeared with Harry almost 45 minutes earlier.  Ron recanted the rather disturbing conversation he had overheard, and did not become less concerned by the thin pursing of McGonagall's lips.  She drew her wand and Hermione's face lit up when an elegant tabby cat sprang forth and received its message and missive.  While they waited for a return reply, the chime on McGonagall's fireplace sounded and she ignored it with a glare at her desk.

"Woah." Ron suddenly said, as a brilliant and graceful silver doe galloped into the room and bowed before their head of house.  A low voice was heard from it, and Hermione gasped.

"Is that Professor Snape's patronus?"

"It is."  McGonagall confirmed, before beckoning them towards the fireplace. "Professor Snape would like to speak to both of you, and he wishes you to see for yourselves that he has not done away with your friend."

She ushered them through the fireplace without a moment to protest, and they both squeezed their eyes shut as they spun through the myriad of gates that made up the UK Floo Network.

Landing in a dreary and small library room, Hermione stepped out of the fireplace first and darted a quick glance to Snape, who was sitting in an old tattered yellow chair off to her right.  He had a glass tumbler in his hand, filled with amber liquid, and seemed to be staring ahead at the wall of bookcases that faced the fireplace.  While waiting for Ron to brush all the ash off his robes, Hermione took a look around the room, noting the small layer of dust on the shelves, the collection of old compasses that took up space in front of the books on one shelf, the old muggle radiator under the window, the settee with the rather comfortable knit blanket draped over it, and the framed photo on the wall near the kitchen entrance, of a small boy with dark hair standing on the pier of a small canal in an old city, about to get on a tourist boat.

"He is upstairs."  Snape spoke, in a low and monotonous voice.  Beside her Ron jumped slightly at the sound.  "He has taken a dreamless sleep vial, so do not try to wake him. Return down here when you are satisfied that he's fine."

Snape nodded towards the far corner where the small wooden door slowly opened.  Other than the small ticking noise from a clock in the kitchen, and the rain hitting the windowsill, the house was deathly quiet.  The fireplace whooshed green again and McGonagall stepped through, greeting Snape with a nod and an apology for getting caught up in a firecall from the headmaster.

Hermione dragged Ron through the hallway door before he could blurt anything stupid about being in Snape's house, and when they reached the front entrance they saw a pair of Harry's shoes, kicked off against the wall.   They climbed the narrow staircase, towards the grey and rainy skies of the window at the top of the stairs.  Another tiny hallway, but the first door they arrived at at the top of the stairs had a small wooden plaque on it, carved in Cyrillic letters and with little icons around the word.  Ron ran his fingers over the small carving of Hedwig, and gave a low whistle.

"Bloody brilliant. It's like someone carved all the important things in Harry's life."

Hermione spent a moment looking it over as well, rather impressed with the fine detail Harry had gone to.  She wondered what name he'd written there, and made a note to look up the Cyrillic alphabet in the library when she got back to Hogwarts.  Slowly she pushed the bedroom door open, and both were rendered speechless by what they saw.

Bright colours flashed back at them as they entered, from the deep blue of the closest wall to the bright blues and greens of the large world map opposing them.  There was a small bookcase by the desk that was filled with muggle literature as well as some Dutch children's books and old wizarding books that had most likely been taken from downstairs.  There was a small stereo on the bookcase as well, with a few cds stacked haphazardly beside it.

Ron moved over to inspect the wardrobe as Hermione gazed at their friend curled up on the green and white bed.  His dark hair stuck haphazardly out against the forest green pillow and he slept curled up on his side, covered with a multicoloured knit blanket that looked as if it had been tucked around him.  His wand and glasses lay on the table next to a half full vial of dreamless sleep.  Hermione's eyes flicked up to the corkboard above Harry's desk, where a few post cards from Amsterdam had been randomly pinned up, as well as a walking map of Stockport, a newspaper clipping with showtimes for the cinema, and a hospital bracelet.

Ron whistled from the closet.

"Do you think Snape did this?  There's got to be a tonne of new clothes in here, they look expensive.  And he's got a laundry service too."  Ron said, pulling out a canvass duffle bag.  "Dunno who Half Wit is supposed to be though."

Hermione rubbed her finger on the hospital bracelet, reading the details on it.  Snape, Elliot F. Same birth date as Harry's, and a random patient number assigned.

"I think he got more than just new clothes."  Hermione said, motioning for Ron to come over to the desk.   Ron inspected the map of Amsterdam and some place called De Kromweg that was pinned to Harry's corkboard, and the little x's drawn on it that marked off where Harry had been with Snape.

"There's nothing wrong with my family, is there?" Ron asked, mumbling a little in embarrassment.

"No."  Hermione reassured him, taking his hand and leading him out of Harry's room.  "But Harry needs a family of his own. One where he won't get lost in the shuffle."  They closed the door as they left, stepping lightly on the stairs and still managing to hit all the creaky spots.

"I guess that's alright then."  Ron said, nodding his head with a stern face as they walked towards the voices in the kitchen.  Hermione shoved him a little through the library door.

"You are such a prat, Ronald."