“Hello Harry!” Hermione chirped from behind her mountain of books. “How was your lesson with Professor Snape?”

Fighting a grin, Harry bought himself time by pulling back a library chair and straddling it.

“Oh, you know, okay” he managed.

Hermione raised an eyebrow “Given the way you practically bounced over, Harry James Potter, I think it went rather better than okay.”

Smiling at his friend’s perspicacity, Harry nodded “Okay, something great’s happened but I can’t spill. It’s not my secret, y’see.”

Hermione’s brown eyes, alight with interest, scanned Harry, almost as if looking for clues, but, eventually, she shook her dark curls with a smile “Okay, well I won’t tempt you. I better find out soon, though.”

“I hope you will” Harry beamed “I don’t think it’ll stay a secret long, anyhow.”

“Oh, just read a book, Harry, and stop tempting me.” Hermione whispered with a giggle.

Chuckling, Harry grabbed a book from his friend’s pile and started reading.

oOoOo

As it turned out, however, Hermione's suspense did not outlast the hour. As the Great Hall filled with students that evening, the tables remained bare until all were seated.

Dumbledore stood up, looking, Harry was pleased to note, somewhat sheepish. "I apologise for keeping you from your nightly repast, however, I have a very important announcement to make” the Headmaster looked over to Harry, a sorrowing expression in his blue eyes. “Mr Potter has been withdrawn from the Triwizard Tournament”

Echoing silence saturated the candlelit hall. Even the Slytherins, who usually chattered through Dumbledore’s speeches and announcements, were too gobsmacked to speak.

“Mr Potter, who, against his will and interests, was entered into the Triwizard Tournament by persons unknown, has been adopted by our Groundskeeper and Care of Magical Creatures Professor, Rubeus Hagrid. In the interest of fairness and equality, Professor Hagrid and Mr Potter have agreed to take advantage of a loophole, previously overlooked by the judges, which enables the parent of a Wizarding child to veto any magical contract that their child has made.”

Dumbledore sat down, obviously intending to say nothing more, and, on realising this, Professor McGonagall stood up.

“I would like to extend congratulations, on behalf of the school, to Master Potter and Professor Hagrid” the elderly witch said firmly. “Professor Hagrid has been the closest to a father to young Master Potter for many a year, from carrying him to safety on that fateful Halloween, fourteen years ago now, to reintroducing him to the Wizarding world, including, I hear” she said with a slight smile “buying him his first owl. I have no doubt that Professor Hagrid will provide Harry the home and family he needs to flourish into the upstanding young wizard I am sure he will become. And, moreover, I know that Harry, who Professor Hagrid has always looked upon as the son he’d never had, will bring much joy and pride to his new father.”

As one, the students at the Gryffindor table broke into applause, followed by Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw and even a few lower year Slytherins. Hagrid, who was blushing like an apple, rubbed tears out of his eyes with a quivering hand and stood up.

“Thank yeh, Professor McGonagall, fer yeh kind words. I’ve loved Harry like a son fer many a year and being able to call him my own is the greatest joy I have ever had. Not because he’s famous or nothing, but because a better, kinder son no father could have. I’m just happy that he chose me and that I could do a service to him. This Tournament ain’t no place fer a child, even one so skilled at Defence as Harry, and I know he’s been getting a fair amount of flack for being chosen, despite the fact that everyone with half a brain knows yeh can’t beat Dumbledore’s age line.” Hagrid said, casting a stern eye over the Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs “Well, now all’s square amongst us; all the champions are adults an’ there’s one per school, as we all thought there would be. I figure many of you owe young Harry an apology, not that he’d ask fer one. Anyhow, I’ve said my piece and all that’s left to add is that I’m right happy and so is Harry.”

As Hagrid sat down, the Gryffindors clapped hard, as did the shame-faced Hufflepuffs and a majority Ravenclaws, most of whom looked rather embarrassed.

“I can’t believe you, mate!”

“You never told us!”

“Thousand Galleons!”

“So happy for you!”

“You’ll have to do the end-of-year exams now! I’d rather face a dragon!”

“Really, Dean!”

“Well, I would!”

Harry laughed “It was a spur of the minute thing. I was talking about the tournament to Hagrid and Aberforth, Professor Dumbledore’s brother…”

“Didn’t know he had a brother…” Seamus said, sounding surprised.

“Yeah, well Dumbledore didn’t exactly step out of heaven fully formed, he has a family.” Harry replied, rolling his eyes “Anyway, Aberforth said that there might be a way of getting me out of it.”

“But, Harry, a *thousand* Galleons!” moaned George.

“Yeah, well, it’s just money, as Hagrid said, it’s not worth dying over.”

“Aww, come on, Harry, no one’ll die! Dumbledore wouldn’t allow it.”

“They might, they did last time” Lee pointed out. “That manticore killed a couple, I think.”

Harry shook his head, grinning “I’m happy, okay. I’ve got a decent parent now and, really, I think with Voldemort and co. turning up every year or so, I’ve got enough excitement in my life.”

“Harry!” Hermione scolded “Don’t say that!”

“Whatever, I’m well out of it.” Harry replied, reaching for a handful of chips.

There was a clunk of cutlery as Ron stood up and stomped out of the room.

“He’ll come round, mate” George said patting Harry on the shoulder.

“Or we’ll bring him round” added Fred with a scowl towards the still swinging doors.

Harry bit the tip of a chip viciously “Yeah, well I might not be there when he does.”

oOoOo

When Harry looked back, he realised that his situation during those terrible first three weeks of November had been somewhat like having a bad cold; he’d felt awful but he only realised just how awful he’d felt. Now, without the weight of public distain on his shoulders, his stomach free of that clutching, churning fear that Harry had felt whenever he’d thought of the Tournament, it was as if light had flooded back into his life, like storm-clouds fleeing the sunlight breeze.

Admittedly there were a few bits of cloud in Harry’s new found silver lining. While the Hufflepuffs, under the stern eye of Professor Sprout, did their best to make amends during Herbology that Monday morning and the Ravenclaws, abashed at their lack of perception, were at least respectful during History of Magic, nothing short of Hell freezing over could compel the Slytherins to be civilised. Harry, however, knew better than to rise to their taunts that he was a coward or (on the strength of a promise to his new father) even defending Hagrid from their aspersions. As the gamekeeper said, himself, “I may not be Lucius Malfoy, Harry, I may not have his land or his galleons or his ancestors but I’ve never licked the boots of no Dark Lord either. And I’ve earned all I’ve got through honest graft. So don’t yeh split hairs over what young Malfoy will say, y’hear.”

Sirius's disappointment had been another grey fleck on the horizon; Harry sent a letter to his godfather that Saturday evening, explaining the reasons behind the speedy adoption and begging Sirius, firstly, not kill the Dursleys and, secondly, to understand that, while Harry loved Hagrid like a father, he'd truly wanted to take up Sirius' offer of a home and would have done so if it had been possible. Sirius' response was mercifully swift and charitable: he knew, as a man on the run, he couldn't provide Harry with a home and wrote that Harry would have been a 'blithering idiot' to refuse Hagrid's offer because 'come on, kiddo, Gryff loyalty is all well and good but only an idiot would stick with the Dursleys if a decent bloke like Hagrid offered them a home...'

A rather darker and more enduring wisp of cloud was Ron, who continued to ignore Harry as if his life depended upon it. Although Harry pretended not to care, he had hoped that his best friend, no, make that ex-best friend, would realise he’d been a dick and apologise. Or at least call a truce. However, if Ron didn’t relent now, Harry couldn’t see how he ever would.

And, of course, there was the lingering shadow of Snape. After the Potions Master’s championship of Harry, up to and including getting Harry adopted against Dumbledore’s wishes, it was impossible to harbour even the most miniscule doubt that Snape was on the side of the light. However, although Harry wasn’t anywhere near as bright as Hermione, he prided himself on having some smarts; whichever way he looked at it, Snape was obviously a spy. The Potions Master’s favouritism of purebloods, his ‘dark wizard’ demeanour, the way he always called Voldemort ‘the Dark Lord’, it all added up and, Harry thought, it didn’t take a genius to realise that Snape's head would be on the line if he publicly took ‘the-boy-who-killed-Voldemort’ under his wing.

The wretched thing was, Harry thought as he wandered through the sunlit corridors to his Tuesday morning Transfiguration class, that he really couldn’t see himself hating Snape again. Okay, the man was scarcely Father Christmas but, for all his harsh impatience and snide asides, the Potions Master had a heart somewhere under that icy exterior. And, now Harry knew that Snape had feelings, he didn’t much want to risk hurting them by acting like they were still at loggerheads. However, if Harry went into Potions that afternoon and didn’t behave like the sulky, truculent, disrespectful brat he knew he’d always been with Snape (fairs fair, the Potions Master had given as good as he got and then some), the Slytherins would notice and report back to their parents.

All in all, Harry rather wished that Hermione would nag his worries out of him but, unfortunately, she seemed to have concluded that Harry was upset over Ron and, as Hagrid had warned him that Snape wouldn’t appreciate his role in the adoption being mentioned to anyone, the teen just couldn’t justify telling Hermione off the cuff. Where was her inconvenient inquisitiveness when he needed it?

Having spent most of his Transfiguration class staring out of the window, Harry was not wholly surprised when, at the end of lesson, Professor McGonagall rather sharply asked him to stay behind.

“Mr Potter” the stern witch intoned “It has not slipped my attention that your attention has been elsewhere during this period.”

Harry saw, out of the corner of his eye, a petite, bushy-maned witch grab a lanky redhead by the ear and drag him outside very much in the way that a tugboat would lead a liner. 

“I’m sorry, Professor” Harry replied, flushingly meeting her cool, blue gaze “I’ve… well, I’ve got a lot on my mind”

To Harry’s surprise, the Deputy headmistress merely nodded “So I have been informed, Mr Potter. Follow me.”

Not a little confused, Harry traipsed after Professor McGonagall out of the Transfiguration classroom and through the corridors, towards her study. When he stepped inside, Harry noticed that there was another door, one which he had never seen before, beside the fireplace.

Bemused, Harry watched the Deputy Headmistress step swiftly across her office floor and knock thrice on this new door. On reflection, Harry knew he shouldn’t have been surprised when it opened to reveal Professor Snape.

“Thank you, Professor McGonagall." Professor Snape said, inclining his head. "Mr Pott… Harry, a word if you please.”

“Um, sure.” Harry replied, his eyes bewildered “er, bye Professor.”

Minerva McGonagall looked up from her desk with a kindly smile “Good bye Harry.”

Once inside Snape’s ‘Room of Requirement', Harry noticed that the chamber had shrunk to the size of a cozy sitting-room and now contained a fireplace, complete with crackling fire, two mahogany chairs, upholstered in burgundy velvet, and a little round table, laid with a white cloth, plates, goblets, a flagon of what looked like butterbeer and a large platter of sandwiches.

“I though it best to arrange a discussion before our first Potions Class, Mr Potter” Professor Snape said, his eyes shuttered.

“Um, yeah. Sound’s like a good idea.” Harry nodded.

The Potions Master gestured to the table “If you would like to sit?”

Harry nodded, then felt a bit daft: he must look like Noddy! “Thanks” he mumbled, pulling out a chair.

“I have ordered a variety of sandwiches: cheese and pickle, fish paste, cream cheese and cucumber, coronation chicken…”

“Sounds good.” Harry said awkwardly.

The two ex-adversaries stared at each other, feeling rather like manticores trying to converse using a book of etiquette written by centaurs.

Harry took a sandwich at random and bit into it. Professor Snape did the same.

“Um, so, about our lessons.” Harry finally volunteered “Er, I guess you’re a spy, right?”

“Indeed” the Potions Master nodded.

“Right, so, seeing as Voldemort…”

“The name is taboo, Harry” the Potions Master said, his dark eyes flashing “If we were anywhere else and the Dark Lord was incarnate, he could materialise in front of us or, worse still, summon us to him. No spell, short of the Fidelus Charm, would be sufficient to bar his entry.”

Harry’s green eyes were as round as Galleons “But Dumbledore…”

“Can use his name with impunity as the Dark Lord will not willingly test his strength if there is a risk of his own destruction.” Professor Snape said harshly. 

“Oh!”

A strange little smile twisted at the corner of the Potions Master’s mouth “Covertly teaching a child such as yourself, Harry, has proved somewhat trying.”

“I guess.” Harry replied, looking uncomfortable. “Er… Do you think we could start over?”

“However, I expect that, with your open, honest demeanour, it was foolish that you would consider *all* the rules of a tyrant as arbitrary.” Professor Snape continued calmly.

Harry’s eyebrows hit his messy hairline.

“I am aware that, being misinformed as to your upbringing, I have been somewhat… unreasonable” the Potions Master said, a livid flush creeping over the bridge of his nose. “However, the pretence was necessary: my political position is such that I cannot afford to allow the Dark Lord’s follower’s to doubt my loyalty to their cause. Nevertheless" the young Professor sighed "My ill-treatment of you was, I admit, excessive from the first.”

Harry, feeling somewhat embarrassed, scrubbed at his tousled, raven hair “I didn't exactly make it easy for you to like me. Um... I guess we’re going to have to act as normal, though? In front of the Slytherins and everyone?”

“Indeed, Harry.” Professor Snape replied, with an appraising look in his dark eyes. “Master Malfoy is, in fact, his father’s spy and, should I fail to demonstrate extreme prejudice in my every word and action, he will notice.”

Harry nodded “I thought as much.”

“However,” the Potions Master said sternly “‘act’ is the operative word; if I undermine your class-work and under-mark your homework, the grades you publicly receive will not be replicated within my private records. And, when I insult you, listen.”

“Because you’ll be giving me advice, right?” Harry guessed.

“Naturally.” Professor Snape inclined his head. “You, of course, will respond to my blatant favouritism and insults with a reasonable degree of self-righteous rage. I will deduct points, which will, later, be returned, and you will receive a detention once a week. Swearing at me, I believe, will usually do the trick.”

Harry grinned “And these detentions will be my duelling lessons, right?”

Professor Snape smirked broadly “No, Harry. You will be learning Occulmency.”

“What’s that?”

“Mind magic. The ability to defend your mind from the assaults of a Legilimens, a witch or wizard who can access your thoughts.”

“Like a mind reader?” Harry asked.

Professor Snape raised an eyebrow “Indeed, Harry. Considering your track record, I would prefer my secrets to be somewhat more secure.”

Harry nodded “V… Moldywart is a Legilimens, then?”

“Indeed. It would be wise, however, to keep your shields raised at all times. One cannot trust even those closest to oneself. Moreover” The Potions Master paused, running a pale, elegant finger over his lips “‘Moldywart’ might do more with his legilimency than merely read your mind. I have heard that your scar becomes especially painful around the Dark Lord?”

“Um, yeah.” Harry’s green eyes darted to Snape, scanning his face “And, er, sometimes I have dreams. Dreams that make my scar hurt.”

“Explain.”

Harry looked perplexed “Um, well, on Saturday night I dreamt that Mad-Eye, I mean, Professor Moody was in the dusty house, in the same room where the old bloke died…”

“Perhaps it would be wise to start at the beginning, Harry” Professor Snape drawled, raising an elegant eyebrow. “The Headmaster has not confided the particulars of this incident to me.”

“Well, you see, this summer I dreamt about V… Moldywart. He was in a tiny bundle, like a baby, but he spoke with his normal voice and he could hold a wand. Um, he was with Peter Pettigrew and a snake, I think it’s name was Nagi, Nanini or something."

Something flickered in Professor Snape’s eyes “Nagini, yes.”

“Er, well, this old bloke, he looked a bit like a gardener, wandered into the room- it was very dusty and looked like it hadn’t been lived in for a while- and Moldywart killed him.”

The Potions Master shut his eyes, his sable eyebrows forming a graceful arch on his high, pale forehead. “Please continue.”

“Right, well, on Saturday night Professor Moody was in this room, kneeling in front of Vol...Moldywart and he was telling him about me, how Hagrid had adopted me and broke the contract, so I wasn’t competing in the Tournament anymore. Moldywart went insane and started torturing him but, by that point, my scar was hurting me so badly that I woke up.”

When Professor Snape eventually spoke, his tone was one of desperate resignation “Harry, please ensure that I give you detention tonight. In fact, if you can find an opportunity to do so, punch Draco.”

Harry gaped.

Professor Snape opened his eyes “Although you may rather not spend an hour with me every evening this week, if my fears are founded, it will be necessary.”

oOoOo

Harry, much to his disappointment, was unable to engineer an argument with Draco Malfoy: halfway through their discussion, Professor Snape had realised that he had five minutes until class and, as they could scarcely arrive together, by the time Harry dashed into class, everyone was sitting down. However, half way through the practical, Harry caught his Professor’s eye:

//add half an ashwinder egg-shell. Now!//

The resulting explosion, which, while contained within the caldron, projected a large volume of soft, purple goo, had three consequences. Firstly, Harry was given a week’s detention, secondly, having been told to ‘get out of’ Snape’s sight, the teenager had the rest of the afternoon off and, thirdly, Draco’s moon-pale hair was still violet the next morning.

Even if Harry’s been facing real detentions, it would have been worth it.

oOoOo

As the weeks past, Harry found it easier to think of Professor Snape as two, separate people. Inside the ‘Room of Requirement’, as Harry now knew it, he was taught by Professor Snape, who was firm but fair, exacting but reasonable. Outside the room, Professor Snape’s evil twin, otherwise known as ‘Snape’ or ‘the git’, lurked, waiting to make Harry’s life miserable. It helped to divide the man’s personas and, in reality, it wasn’t all that difficult; they were like two different people, night and day. One was his enemy, the other almost his friend.

Even with a history such as theirs, the extracurricular lessons had drawn them together. Lying on a comfortable couch, with Snape sitting beside him, teaching him to clear his mind, had been a bit weird at first. However, after tuning into his own heart beat, letting the slow, steady rhythm fill his mind, clearing it of psychological clutter, Harry realised that the technique not only worked but made him feel much better. Learning to Occlude his waking mind was rather less pleasant; even the first lesson, when Professor Snape showed him how to recognise the gentle, almost indistinguishable sifting of a spy had been both uncomfortable and embarrassing and, as the lessons progressed, Harry had the repeated displeasure of realising that his new, strengthened shields were still no match for his Professor, especially when Snape used the harsh, invasive technique favoured by Voldemort.

Duelling lessons, however, more than made up for Harry’s frequent frustrations with occulmency. The warm approval in Professor Snape’s eyes when Harry achieved a milestone- like his first wandless spell (a summoning charm to rearm himself), their shared passion for duelling, the companionable breaks, spent eating sandwiches and discussing technique, showed Harry that Snape, without an audience of mini-deatheaters, could be a decent, even inspiring teacher.

And Severus, in learning that Harry’s nature was more akin to Lily’s than James’, found a tiny cockle of his heart thawing for the boy who looked up to him with those admiring green eyes.