“He was frothing at that point,” explained Harry to his friends. He had joined Ron and Hermione a short while earlier in a corner of the common room that his friends had managed to grab for themselves.

Like most evenings, the cosy haven for Gryffindors had become less and less crowded as the younger years trooped up to their dorms throughout the evening. The remaining older students were clustered in groups chatting idly. Harry, Ron and Hermione were able to talk about 'Remedial Defence' in low voices without anyone overhearing them.

“Surely, though, he realised that you didn't mean to break into his memories?”

“Hermione,” said Ron, disbelievingly, “do you really think he cares whether Harry meant to or not? He's just a git who'll take any opportunity to have a go.” Ron became curious then, “What did you see, anyway?”

“I'm not going to tell you that, Ron,” said Harry. He continued before Ron could say anything, “Listen, if it was important, I might; you understand? But these memories were mostly from when he was just a kid.” Both Ron and Hermione looked quite taken aback, as if the thought of Snape ever being a child had never occurred to them.  “Besides, it wasn’t much, they were more like photos than the films which memories normally resemble.”

“Still, he had no right getting angry,” said Hermione, ignoring Ron’s baffled expression at Harry’s Muggle reference.  “As if you would deliberately try to do something like that!” she exclaimed, getting heated on Harry's behalf.

'Oh, God,' thought Harry. He had promised to be truthful with his friends which was all very well up to a point but, 'Hermione's going to crucify me.'

“Well, actually,” said Harry, sheepishly, “he has kind of got a reason to be suspicious.”

“What do you mean?”

So Harry told them about sneaking into Snape's pensieve the previous year. He left out the details of the memory but did mention that he had not seen his father in the best of lights.

“Harry!”

“Blimey, you're lucky you're still alive!”

He allowed Hermione to go on for a while about his impetuousness and how curiosity killed the cat, and nearly him in this case. He then brought her back to the original topic under discussion.

“So, as I was saying, he was livid at that point but by the end he was actually complimenting me!” Harry thought about this for a moment, rechecking his memory, “Yeah, he was saying, like, how I must be pretty capable to be able to resist Imperio and cast a Patronus.”

Ron looked rather dubious. “You sure you didn't just get confused with insults? I mean, I sometimes lose track of what part of me he's having a go at.”

“Don't be silly, Ron. You're clever enough to understand everything, you just don't concentrate on your homework – that's your problem.”

Harry smiled at his best friend's blush from the unexpected praise.

“So,” coughed Ron, “did he give you any practical help? Actually explain how you're meant to 'clear your mind'?”

“No, and he said there were no useful books.” Harry noticed the aghast look on Hermione's face.  He answered the rest of their questions and also told them about Snape's analysis of the twins' potion.

As Ron and he were making their way up to their dormitory, Ron's pride in his brothers was evident.

“Sounds like they're onto something there, doesn't it?”

Harry did usually enjoy the morning delivery of post but today he was anxiously looking out for one owl in particular. He had sent his godfather a letter yesterday lunchtime and was dearly hoping for a reply today. As the owls came swooping in he was not disappointed; Hedwig's clean white feathers were easily distinguishable amongst the regular grey and tawny postal owls.

He slit open the envelope with the butter knife, eager to check it was from Sirius. Though he could still not declare either the whereabouts of, or his relationship with, his godfather, Harry, on seeing the flourish with which 'Snuffles' had signed his name, could not help but feel that progress was being made. It was not so long ago that Sirius had first made direct contact with him through the gift of his magnificent broomstick; a convicted murderer who dared not even attach a note. It gave Harry hope that one day soon his godfather would be formally acquitted of Pettigrew's murders. There would be a public apology from the Ministry and compensation for the twelve years that had been stolen from his godfather, Harry would make sure of it.

The note was gloriously long, bearing in my mind that they had only parted a few days previously. However, it was not overly reassuring:

Dear Harry,

I do hope you are settling in well and have not got up to any trouble in your first week back (Remus is looking over my shoulder as I write this – he's now pulling such a face, you wouldn't believe! There, he's gone away now). In any case, as any true Marauder knows, reconnoitring the location and its inhabitants before engaging in any truly extravagant acts is always worth the effort!

I am very pleased that you are able to continue with Potions (and without a certain slimy Slytherin breathing down your back). Old Sluggy was a good sort, if a bit partial to crystallised pineapple and favouritism. I'd saying joining his club could be worthwhile, your mother was one of his favourites and used to quite enjoy the meetings.

So that means you now have the evil git taking you for Defence. Can't understand Dumbledore's reasoning myself, I don't trust Snape as far as I could hex him. Every year, he knew more about the Dark Arts than any one of our Defence teachers – used to enjoy showing them up in class. I suppose that there is no one better if you look at it from that angle.

But do not trust him! Make sure that everything he teaches you is above board. Harry, I am not joking in this; I wouldn't put it past him to sneak the Dark Arts onto the curriculum or to make an attempt at injuring you under the guise of 'teaching'. Also, I know Dumbledore thinks that your 'special potions training' is important, and I do agree, but I feel extremely uncomfortable at you being alone with Snape so much.

Contact me tonight, you know how, and I'll tell you something I found out recently from our wider circle of friends concerning him. Just know that you cannot trust him, so please, for my sake, keep your guard up and your friends aware of where you are.

Onto lighter news: Remus and I have taken to duelling, for the exercise as well as to sharpen me up a tad, and I have been soundly beaten far too much for my poor bruised ego; I hope to have better news on that front soon. Buckbeak is well, though he could also do with some exercise, Remus has written to an acquaintance on the Continent to see if they would be willing to take him. It is cruel leaving him locked up in this old house, though he has been a comfort to me in the past.

And that is all I have to say for now. Let me know how your first session with Snape went, how all your lessons are going (if you think the teachers are being harsh now, just wait until your seventh year, that really is Hell) and what you and your friends get up to.

Your devoted,

Snuffles

Harry had mixed emotions about the letter's contents. He was certainly pleased to have learnt something new about his mother. It was strange, but he often felt like he almost knew his father personally while, at the same time, knowing so little about his mum. It was understandable, he supposed, as he knew who his father's friends were and was lucky enough to still be able to talk to them but Sirius himself had said that Lilly had never been that close with the rest of the Marauders.

When Harry had asked about who his mother's friends had been, Sirius had grimaced and simply said, “No one worth mentioning.” Only when Harry had pushed further all his godfather could say was, “I don't know about any Muggle friends but by the time she finished school there was only one girl she was really close to, Mary MacDonald, but she was killed about a year before your parents.” And that was the end of that topic.

Also positive was the news about Slughorn. It reassured Harry somewhat about their newest teacher, surely his mother would not have joined his club if he was a Pureblood supremacist like most Slytherins Harry had met? Harry's first impressions of the professor on the train had been rather mixed and so he would reserve judgement until after his first class with the man.

“Ready, mate?” asked Ron, getting up from the breakfast table.

The trio started to make their way to the dungeons for their first Potions lesson of the year. On the way Harry told Ron and Hermione what Sirius had said in his letter.

“Well, that sounds good. Certainly can't be any worse than Snape, can he?” asked Ron, rhetorically.

“Yeah,” said Harry. “He also had quite a bit to say about Snape. He doesn't think we should trust him in the slightest.”

“I know he's not the nicest man in the world but really, Harry, you know how much those two hate each other. I'm not sure how seriously we should take Sirius' advice.”

“That's the thing, though. He wants me to contact him with the mirror later because there's something he wants me to know, about why we can't trust Snape.”

Hermione still looked dubious but they were at the Potions classroom so their discussion was put on hold.

Ron shrugged at Harry while sneaking a look at Hermione further down the dinner table. She was sitting conspicuously apart from the two boys and was still holding them in sulky disapproval.

“She'll get over it, you know how she is. Just has to be the top in every class,” said Ron quietly. “You won that potion fair and square.”

“Yeah, I did.”  But Harry still felt guilty for some reason and, yet, he could not regret it either.  The Felix Felicis seemed the most magical thing he had yet encountered in the Wizarding world.  It was exactly the sort of potion he was bound to require at some point. 

To say that Hermione was unhappy with his good fortune in being handed a miraculous book which explained his most troublesome subject in easy to understand language and with humour was quite an understatement.  She was convinced that no good would come of it and that it was, for all practical purposes, cheating.  Ron, on the other hand, was in full agreement with Harry about its usefulness and had shown only disappointment in the fact that it was Harry who had had all the luck.

Harry had been able to glance through the borrowed copy of ‘Advanced Potion-Making’ at lunchtime and he had seen that nearly all the potions in the book had been similarly annotated.  There was also a great deal more scrawled writing devoted to spellwork in general.

“What time did Snuffles say he’d contact you?” asked Ron, trying to get Harry’s mind off Hermione’s disapproval.

“Actually, I think he meant for me to contact him.”

“Right.  Probably best not to do it in the dorm or common room, yeah?  Want to go out by the lake while there’s still light?” suggested Ron.

“Yeah, good idea.  Let me just check if Hermione wants to come too, then we can nip up to the dorm to get the mirror.”

Harry swung his legs over the bench and walked over to Hermione.  Leaning over her shoulder he explained what he and Ron were going to do.

“I have work to do because I’m not a fraud,” she whispered furiously, “and you can’t expect Snuffles to tell the truth regarding Snape anyway.”  So saying she turned back to her shepherd’s pie and conversation with a fourth year girl.

Though disappointed, Harry was not surprised.  He exchanged a hopeless shrug with Ron and they both went off in the direction of their dormitory.

Having retrieved the mirror the two boys sat down by a tree not far from the lake.  They had a good view of the surrounding area and so were sure they would not be interrupted in their conversation with a convicted murderer.

Activating the mirror with a whispered, “Sirius”, Harry waited for a response.

It was hardly a minute later that the boys could hear a tentative, “Harry?  That you?”

Harry smiled and leaned forward over the mirror more so that he could make out his godfather’s face more clearly. 

“Alright there, champ?”

“Hi Sirius,” said Harry in a more normal tone of voice, “I’m fine.  How are you?  Won a duel yet?”

“Hah, no such luck, I’m afraid.  Remus is surprisingly sprite with not a few mean curses up his sleeve.  Brought me out in a rash all over this morning!  He only performed the counter when I agreed to cook tonight.”

Sirius’ tone was so rueful that Harry and Ron could not help but laugh.  With a shake of his head Sirius continued, “So, tell me all about Hogwarts.  Is it good to be back?”

Harry described, in detail, the cruelty of the teachers so far in inflicting them all with mountains of homework.  He went on to explain how he had had the good fortune to get a cool, old, annotated textbook in potions and been able to win a potion using its superior directions.

“Brilliant luck there, Harry,” said Sirius.  “I suppose that would never have happened when Snape had you for Potions.”

“Yeah, speaking of which, you were going to tell me something?”

“Yes.”  Sirius paused and looked around himself, “Listen, I know how you hate being left out of the loop.”

“Yeah, I do.  I think Dumbledore is planning on telling me more in his lessons but I reckon I have a right to know what the Order knows.”

“Well, perhaps not everything but I do know how you feel.  In any case, this will interest you too, Ron.”  The ginger-haired boy looked surprised.

“Me?”

Sirius nodded. “Firstly, I want you both to remember that this is Order business and I’m not supposed to be passing on such information to you,” seeing their nods of agreement, he continued, “The thing is, the evening you had your external vision, Harry, Snape appeared soon after he had been dismissed by his master.  He was looking for an auror because he had found out about a raid which he claimed would be taking place that night, somewhere near the Weasley residence.”

He paused, allowing the boys to put the information they had together.

“I remember that night!  Blimey, Harry,” said Ron, turning to his friend, “I didn’t know that was the evening you had your funny turn.  But,” he said, confused, “our house wasn’t attacked, nor was the Lovegood’s.”

“I know,” said Sirius.  “In actual fact there was no raid anywhere near that area.  And Snape did cover his back by saying the raid was quite a last minute plan.”

“So what’s the problem, then?” asked Harry, realising that Snape could just have been being cautious. 

“There was a raid in Upper Loughton, a village in Yorkshire.  Seven Muggles were killed.”

There was silence while the boys digested this.

“You’re saying that Snape deliberately had the Order send reinforcements to the southwest of England when he knew there was an attack planned for the northeast?”

“Exactly.”