Severus was pleasantly surprised and amazed how quickly the student population got over the whole Quirrellmort escapade. He supposed the saying 'out of sight, out of mind' was true. Without something to remind them what had happened, they moved on, going back to trivial things, like who had said what, and what so-and-so had decided to wear that day.

He was glad children were like that.

The staff, unfortunately, was not.

"Are we sure he won't try something else?" Minerva asked.

They were having an informal meeting. It was Wednesday night.

"We cannot be sure, Minerva, which is why we will not be changing anything we have already done and set up," Albus answered.

"Oh, I am grateful we decided on the Fidelius," Filius said.

"As am I," Severus muttered quietly.

"Well, the wards will be improved this summer, I have the Board's assurance they will allow and provide the funds for it at our earliest convenience," the Headmaster said, moving things along.

"About time. Even without the threat of You-Know-Who, it has been too long since the wards have been strengthened," Minerva sniffed.

"Yes, but we will not be merely strengthening them, but adding to them," Filius piped in.

"Has it been decided what will be added exactly?" Pomona asked, speaking up.

"I have some ideas, besides simply strengthening the existing wards, but would like your thoughts on the matter before I share mine," Albus said, looking at them all.

Before he could stop himself, Severus spoke up. "Anti-disguise wards, including ones that would detect animagi and polyjuice use."

"Yes, I agree," Filius said, quickly understanding the merits of such a precaution as Severus internally relaxed.

He had not spoken too suddenly.

"Very well," Albus said, jotting that down on a sheet of parchment before him.

"Hmm, perhaps anti-portkey, to prevent any unauthorized departures from Hogwarts?" Pomona asked.

"Yes, but have incoming portkeys made by you or an authorized professor be allowed," Minerva added.

Dumbledore nodded, writing that down as well.

They sat in silence for a time, thinking about any weaknesses Hogwarts had. They were like that for a good solid minute, all of them trying to think of how else to improve the wards.

Severus was thinking furiously on how to add another ward he desperately wanted in place without once again drawing attention to himself.

"Dementors," he whispered to himself.

"What was that, Severus?" Albus asked.

Severus forced himself not to look up suddenly in alarm. Instead, he slowly looked at Dumbledore with a thoughtful look on his face.

"Dementors. I was just running through all the allies the Dark Lord would have if he were to return to his former strength. If we are creating the wards for a worse-case-scenario, then having wards against them would be wise. And, now that I think about it, why not a ward alerting you to any who have a dark mark?"

"But the Dementors are under Ministry control," Filius pointed out.

"Have the words 'Ministry' and 'control' ever gone well together?" Minerva retorted.

Dumbledore stroked his beard and looked at Severus intently.

"It is merely a suggestion, Headmaster," Severus stated.

"A very curious one," Albus replied, still looking at Severus thoughtfully. "As well as a wise one."

Severus decided to try a new tactic and looked down a little, as if hesitant. He wanted to divert the Headmaster's suspicions away from wherever they had been heading. "From what has recently happened . . . I believe we should prepare for anything. It . . . frustrates me that a man like Quirrel was able to . . . trick us. I would feel more secure in knowing we are better equipped to protect Hogwarts from anything the Dark Lord may be able to use, no matter how improbable."

Dumbledore continued to stare at Severus for a moment, before nodding his head, understanding where his spy was coming from now. "I agree, Severus. Perhaps if we had been as observant and cautious the previous incident would not have occurred."

Severus mentally let out a sigh of relief. Crisis averted, for now.

O o O o O

Harry and Neville joined the other first years outside for their first flying lesson. Many of them were excited and wanted to fly already, while poor Neville, was scared out of his mind.

"You'll do fine, Neville," Harry assured. "The teacher is here and won't let anything happen."

"I'm accident prone, Harry. Nothing will save me."

"Oh, stop being so dramatic, Longbottom," Draco said, coming up beside them. "You're not going to die. Just do what you're told and you'll be fine." He was actually sounding reassuring — or trying to be.

Neville and Harry shared a brief look. Was Draco actually being nice . . . to Neville? Not that he had exactly been mean to him; he had just snubbed him a bit and otherwise ignored him. Maybe Draco hadn't meant to be like that before. Maybe he had been nervous about beginning school and wasn't as mindful to others unless they had his curiosity, like Harry. Maybe?

"Th-thanks, Malfoy," Neville managed.

Draco waved the apology off and looked to Harry. "Your father was a chaser for Gryffindor, did you know that?"

Harry's eyes widened. "He was? Wow."

"Yeah," he answered as Madam Hooch motioned for them to get beside a broom.

Neville remained beside Harry, who was also beside Draco. Vince and Greg were on the other side of Draco.

After hearing the directions and managing to finally get their brooms into their hands, they were ready to fly.

"On my whistle—three—two—one—" Madam Hooch blew her whistle, and most everyone hovered.

After a few moments of that, she gave a nod and said they were allowed to slowly fly if they wished.

"Neville, why aren't you trying?" Harry asked, since Neville had yet to even get off the ground.

"Sorry, Harry, y-you go ahead. I need a moment to collect myself."

"Okay, Neville."

With that, Harry began flying around, but he continued to watch Neville below him, who was too nervous to even mount his broom properly. Every time he tried, he would stumble and almost fall over.

Harry went back down and landed beside him. "Neville, what's wrong?"

"I'm sorry, Harry, but seeing you all flying . . . I can't help but imagine myself zooming up and then falling. I really don't like heights," he admitted, for the fourth time that day.

"Well, just take it slow and try," Harry encouraged.

Madam Hooch was helping some Gryffindors improve their grips a dozen yards away, but had begun making her way to assist Neville.

Neville sighed, his hands trembling as they tried to keep hold of the broom.

Draco suddenly flew down and landed beside him before grabbing hold of Neville's broom. "Here, Longbottom, Potter and I will show you," Draco said. "Let me use your broom. I'll show you you have nothing to worry about."

Hesitantly, Neville allowed Draco to switch brooms with him. Harry looked at Draco, wondering if his plan would work. He did appreciate the effort he was making though, whether or not it actually helped.

"Well, Longbottom, you're going to have to get on the broom you know," Draco said teasingly, but not too harshly.

Neville did as he was told after receiving a nod from Harry.

"Alright, we'll lift off together, nice and easy," Harry said.

One the count of three, they all kicked off.

Neville and Harry succeeded in hovering, whereas Draco suddenly zoomed up and away.

"Ahhhh!" Draco couldn't help but cry at the sudden acceleration.

Hearing the distress in the young Slytherin's voice, Harry immediately shot after him.

"Draco!" Harry yelled, pushing the broom to fly faster to catch up.

"HHHEEEELLP!" he screamed. "IT WON'T STOP!"

:Go, Harry!: Coral urged, the wind rushing across her colorful scales, Harry's robes flapping wildly.

Harry didn't know what to do, but prayed Draco would be able to hang on long enough for him to get close enough to help. He thought about pulling out his wand, but quickly decided against it. He didn't really know any spells that would help, and he didn't want to do something that might hurt Draco or make the situation worse.

"Hold on, Draco!" Harry yelled, before gasping loudly as he realized Draco was heading straight at one of the towers of Hogwarts. "TURN, DRACO, TURN!"

"IT'S NOT LISTENING! HEEELP!" Draco bellowed, trying all he could to turn the broom, but to no avail.

CRASH!

Harry didn't stop when he saw Draco collide violently into the stones, didn't slow when he saw the broom shatter into the wall, and didn't blink as Draco's body crumpled and began to fall. He remained on course, his magic forcing the broom to fly faster than its creators had designed possible.

"HOLD ON!" he yelled, never minding the fact Draco probably couldn't hear him as his body continued to fall.

Suddenly, Harry was there and immediately wrapped his right arm around Draco's limp form.

"I've got you," Harry said, the second boy's weight making the intact broom strain in the air as Harry slowed Draco's descent.

Harry quickly took in Draco's condition, easily determining the boy's right arm had been broken where he had tried to slow his impact with the wall, but that was not the most grievous injury. No, it was Draco's face.

:Coral! Coral, tell me everything you can sense!: Harry hissed, bordering on hysterical.

Madam Hooch and a few disobedient first years were currently making their way to them, but Draco and Harry had flown a long way.

:He's still alive, but his life-force is thready. His magic is trying to help him, but. . . .: Coral didn't finish that sentence and moved on. :His head is hurt very badly. His magic is gathering there, trying to heal, but the damage. . . .:

Harry was breathing heavily now, taking in the blood pouring from the side of Draco's head and from the large gash on his right cheek. His eye on that side was already beginning to swell shut, and it looked like his cheek bones were uneven. Harry cringed as they continued to float down. He was certain Draco had fractured, if not broken facial bones.

Adrenaline still pumping and magic buzzing in his ears, they landed after what felt like minutes of descent, but what was really mere seconds.

Crouching down beside Draco as he gently laid him down, Harry didn't hesitate as he pulled off his Hufflepuff robe and carefully began wiping the blood from Draco's face so he could see where the worse wounds were.

:Get ready, Coral: Harry said as he braced his right hand against the tower wall and took a deep breath.

:I'm ready, Harry. We can't wait. He is already beginning to pull away. I can feel his magic waning now:

Harry nodded as he removed his bloody hand from the wall and placed it behind Draco's neck before leaning over him.

He didn't quite know what he was doing, but it felt right and Coral didn't suggest doing anything different, so he went with it. Closing his eyes, he did his best to recall everything he could remember from the book and what it had said to do with serious injuries. Clenching his jaw, he knew he wouldn't be able to use Draco's magic — he would have to use his own. This would not be like how he had healed Neville. This would be dangerous. But what else could he do? He knew Coral was right. If he did nothing, Draco would die. It was better to try and fail than to stand back and do nothing.

Pulling what he believed to be his magic, he heard Coral hiss approvingly as she uncurled herself a little from his wrist and allowed her bottom scales to touch Draco's injured face. Encouraged, Harry continued drawing his magic.

Neither of them heard Madam Hooch's cries of, 'Get back, Mr. Potter, get back!' as she hurried to them, finally within earshot, or of Neville's cries to Hooch, 'Let him help! Let him help!' as he got directly in her way.

They were too focused, which was just as well.

:Breaks and tears, mend; cuts, close; wounds, heal!: Harry bellowed, pushing as much magic as he could into his right hand and then into Draco's head and neck in what he hoped was a more controlled fashion.

Coral glowed brightly, and her scales became hot around his wrist. So hot, in fact, a part of him wanted to pull her off, but he didn't. He could and would endure, because he knew Draco was currently unable.

Harry opened his eyes, watching the gash on the Slytherin's cheek and the other wound on the side of his head close, not even leaving a scar. And then the swelling around the eye vanished and the hideous bruise disappeared soon after. But Harry knew he was not done. There were still fractures and broken bones to heal. He felt more than saw the skull fractures heal; the short jolts of bone realigning reached his fingertips resting against the back of Draco's head. It was both disturbing and relieving. It was actually working.

Harry didn't stop pouring his magic, even when he felt Draco stiffen and saw him open his eyes.

Lowering his left hand onto Draco's almost healed face, careful with the still shattered cheek, Harry continued to guide his magic.

:Heal: he whispered.

And then he saw the cheek bone under newly healed flesh shift back into its correct position with a muffled pop. Draco screamed, but his scream was short lived as he gasped at the sensation of his own magic surging back into him.

Harry took that as a sign to pull his hands away and place them on the twisted arm, oblivious to the gaping crowd now gathering a distance behind him.

:Stop, Harry: Coral suddenly said, squeezing his raw wrist.

Harry looked at her, confused, blinking away the darkness that was creeping around the corners of his eyes.

:His arm though: Harry argued, motioning to the slightly twisted limb.

:You've done what was needed. The nurse can heal the rest: Coral advised. :I will not allow you to harm yourself needlessly:

Harry frowned, before suddenly swaying, wondering why his head felt so light and his arms so heavy.

"Harry!" Neville cried, his face appearing right beside him as Hooch loomed at Draco's feet. There were other figures around, but Harry was too dazed to recognize who they were.

Attempting to turn toward Neville, Harry ended up collapsing into Neville's uncertain but willing arms. Soon after, his eyes closed and darkness claimed him. He didn't even feel himself being lifted up by a pair of soft arms.

O o O o O

"Remarkable," Albus whispered.

Severus gave a brief nod as he continued to look at Harry, sleeping in the same bed he had often claimed in the future, if Severus recalled correctly.

Draco's parents had just left. They had been understandably alarmed upon hearing their son had been hurt in an accident and had immediately come to the school. They were horrified to hear what injuries Draco had suffered, but had grown confused when they saw Draco was already well on his way to a full recovery.

Severus took over from Pomfrey in talking to them, briefly telling them it was Harry Potter who had healed their son and saved his life. He informed them that Pomfrey would not have made it in time to repair the damage done and stop the hemorrhaging. Draco would have succumbed to his injuries if it hadn't been for the Parselmouth Hufflepuff.

Narcissa had clearly been beyond grateful, and though Lucius was relieved his son had lived, Severus knew he was troubled. His son now had a life debt to Harry Potter, of all people, and so, that also meant the Malfoy family was indebted to Harry.

The potions master knew Albus was a bit pleased with that, and, if he was honest with himself, so was he. However, he had other things on his mind than the consequences of Harry saving Draco's life.

He continued looking at Lily's son, well aware that the Headmaster was watching both him and Harry. Coral hissed quietly, still curled around Harry's wrist despite Pomfrey's misgivings.

"He will need real training," Severus stated after a long moment.

They were alone in the infirmary; well, they were the only two conscious wizards anyway. Harry and Draco were sleeping soundly, and with the light spells Severus had placed, they wouldn't be hearing anything if they happened to wake.

"Yes, a talent as strong as his should not be left unpolished," Dumbledore agreed with a nod. "But unfortunately, there are not any other sound parselmouths around to teach him."

"Then I suggest practice."

The Headmaster turned to face him fully. "What are you exactly suggesting, Severus?"

"Give him the opportunity to teach himself, allow him to improve himself — here," he said, pointing to the infirmary floor. "Pomfrey will be able to prevent any serious harm from occurring, though with his natural skill in magic, I believe the only one who will need to be monitored is Mr. Potter himself, as it's clear he doesn't know when it is time to stop and has to be told to by his familiar, Coral."

"'A natural skill in magic,' Severus?" Albus asked, raising an eyebrow, his interest clearly spiked.

Severus wanted to kick himself in making such a slip. And of course it had to be his mentor who had heard it and immediately caught it. He should have said, 'natural skill in healing magic.' He forced himself not to show any outward evidence of self annoyance. He had to think quickly here. What should he do? Deflect Dumbledore's suspicions? What would be sufficient to fill his mentor's curiosity? Suddenly, he knew the answer; he only hoped it wouldn't backfire.

"I had. . . ." He allowed himself to trail off. He had to do this right. He had to appear hesitant enough to draw in Dumbledore's concern, but not too much to make him wary of whatever he was about to reveal.

"Yes, Severus?" the old wizard prompted, as if speaking to a frightened child.

Severus wanted to smirk triumphantly; instead, he turned his face away and looked at Harry's sleeping form.

"When I had taken Mr. Potter to get his school things, we began . . . talking, discussing the classes he would attend and such." Severus continued to avoid eye contact, as if he was a little nervous about what Albus' reaction would be to what was about to say. "Well, he had asked me if I knew what he would be bad at, because I had suggested he might do well in Potions. With his question, I saw an opportunity. Admittedly, I was also curious, and, as he had specifically asked, I saw no harm in indulging it. Even now, I believe it was for the best," he said, now staring at a slumbering Coral, whose head was tucked in between Harry's thumb and forefinger.

"Severus?" Dumbledore asked, his voice revealing slight worry for his former student.

"I know it has been made forbidden, cast out of all spell books since the time you were a child, but it has its benefits, Headmaster. And I believe, in this instance, the benefits far outweigh the bad history."

Dumbledore frowned, trying to follow what his potions master was saying.

Severus sighed, as if he was heaving this secret from his mind and to his lips.

"I cast the Legacy Spell on him, Headmaster."

There was a lengthy pause. Severus couldn't even hear his mentor breathing.

"Did you inform Harry that you cast it?" Albus asked after a long moment.

"Yes, and I asked him to keep that bit of information to himself. I also told him I would talk to him about his abilities when he was ready. He accepted."

"You have taken a big risk, Severus. If anyone within the Ministry were to learn what you have done. . . ." Albus shook his head. "Where did you learn the incantation anyway?"

Severus tried to look insulted. "Really, Headmaster, anyone with a basic knowledge of Latin could figure it out. One just has to know it exists and cast it with a purpose."

"And what purpose did you cast it with?" Dumbledore asked softly. It wasn't an accusation, but a mere question.

"To learn the limit of Mr. Potter's potential," Severus answered after a brief pause.

Albus blinked. "And this . . . potential, what did you learn about it?"

Severus turned his eyes away from Harry and met the older man's eyes, trying to decide how best to answer that. He was getting into dangerous territory here, but perhaps it was best to alert Dumbledore of what awaited Harry — what he would become capable of. Of course, Severus wouldn't reveal having knowledge of the future, that would be insane, but maybe showing he knew more than what he had been saying before would fit into his plans?

"The Dark Lord was correct in . . . being wary of the boy," he stated.

"How so?"

"He is a slumbering Mage."

Dumbledore snapped his eyes to Harry, who was still sleeping soundly with Coral snuggled against him. He was so little in the infirmary bed, so unimposing that it was difficult to imagine such a boy becoming the most powerful type of wizard there is — a wizard so in tune with magic that they are not merely a wielder of it, they are of it.

"And that is just one aspect of his being," Severus added softly.

Albus exhaled slowly.

"I had been . . . reluctant to tell you, not only because of the spell, but because I believed Mr. Potter shouldn't be treated any more differently than he already is, even by you," Severus continued.

"You 'believed,' as in used to?" Dumbledore asked, perplexed, wondering if he had heard Severus correctly.

"Mr. Potter isn't an average student, and he never will be, with or without the idiotic title of 'the-boy-who-lived'."

"Unfortunately, I agree with you. I had hoped to give him a normal childhood with the Dursleys, but I failed. And before he arrived, I had hoped, for his sake, that he would be allowed to be just another student, with nothing attracting more attention to him. But it appears it was just not meant to be." Albus looked at Harry sadly before looking to Snape again. "I will speak to Madam Pomfrey about him assisting her on weekends. If she agrees, I will inform Harry of the arrangement myself, and give him the option of taking advantage of it."

"He will accept," Severus said confidently.

"I am sure he will, but it is nice to be given a choice."

The potions master nodded. "And what of the other things, Headmaster?"

"When he begins showing signs, I will arrange more instruction for him."

"Will you teach him?"

"I may."

"I believe it would be unwise to entrust such a task to anyone but yourself."

"And what of you, Severus? I believe you would be an excellent choice."

"I will be advancing his studies in Potions when the time is right. He is already excelling, far more than I had initially expected," he said, and that was the truth. Who knew a little encouragement and clearly stated expectation would get a child to push themselves as hard as Harry was?

"Oh, is that so?"

"Yes."

"What else did you learn from the spell?" Albus asked, deciding to move on.

"As Mages are said to have, he has a number of gifts," Severus said, his voice smooth, as if he was talking about something mundane. "But . . . his body has subconsciously put a lock on his magic. I believe it will lift once he has gained adequate magical control and strength; though, due to the Dursleys, that lift has likely been postponed."

Dumbledore's eyes widened. "The potions. They're more than just nutrient potions, aren't they?"

"Yes."

"When do you think you can stop having him drink them?"

"Perhaps as early as the Christmas holidays, but I am not certain yet."

Albus nodded. "What are his gifts?"

"I would rather not say, Headmaster." Severus watched as the old man's eyes narrowed at him. He swallowed, not out of fear or nervousness, but in an attempt to cover his true feelings with how things were going, for he was extremely pleased. He had Dumbledore where he wanted, and had him thinking along the lines he needed him to be.

"Severus. . . ." He was nonthreatening, but his posture was one of a powerful wizard. His magic remained calm, as Snape had expected, but it had a strange feel to it. A searching one, perhaps?

Severus couldn't help but be impressed. Had so much already changed that even Dumbledore was reevaluating himself in how to respond to situations he was inexperienced in?

"Please, Severus. Why has this affected you so?"

Snape blinked. Perhaps his approach was working a bit too well. Well, some more acting should do. He straightened his back. Time to utilize everything he had learned while being a spy.

"I cannot explain how, but I had been given an image of Mr. Potter's potential future through the spell, an image of who he could become."

Albus frowned. Although what Severus was saying was not unheard of (as parents long ago spoke of having a vision of what their child could grow to be if they reached their full potential), it was quite rare. Oh, how he wished he could cast the Legacy Spell on Harry himself, but the real downside to the spell was that it could only be cast on an individual once. Evidently, an individual's magic was only willing to be read one time.

"I saw a great man, Headmaster," Severus stated, not sure if he should elaborate with a description or not. He didn't know how far he should push this partial lie.

He did have a vision of who and what Harry may become, but it was of his own making. What he hoped Harry would come to be, what he desperately prayed Harry would be.

Dumbledore looked back to Harry, who had shifted in his sleep, oblivious to the world and to their conversation.

"Tell me, Severus," he whispered after a moment.

Severus exhaled slowly, knowing he was really going in deep now, and there would be no going back. What he would say now would further shape Dumbledore's view of Harry and the way he would treat and interact with him.

"I saw him as a wise warrior of peace and a mage surpassing Merlin himself."

Albus stroked his beard, now in deep thought. After a long moment, he spoke, walking closer to Harry's bed, his back to Snape.

"Thank you for being honest with me, Severus. I've made enough mistakes concerning young Harry. I am grateful that you are here to try to prevent me from making anymore." He turned around and faced his potions master, his eyes holding great appreciation. "Perhaps, together, we will help Mr. Potter become what you saw."

"That is my wish, Headmaster. Ever since I was shown what could be, that has been my main objective," Severus stated honestly.

O o O o O

Sprout smiled at her students, appearing as if there was nothing wrong, appearing as if her mind was not on the dozens of other things that really had her attention.

She had just returned from the infirmary and had just finished speaking with the Headmaster about her youngest Hufflepuff. Yes, Mr. Potter was currently the youngest in her house and very near the youngest in the school.

She sat down at her usual spot as Albus stood and motioned for dinner to begin.

Word of what had happened during the first year's flying lesson had already spread like wildfire, and she had already been asked where get-well cards for Harry should be sent. She smiled. Her Hufflepuffs really did look out for one another . . . well, usually.

She mentally shook herself, refocusing on all that Albus had told her.

Harry's magic was partially locked, he was a slumbering mage, and he would likely be helping Pomfrey in the infirmary on weekends after things had settled. Albus had also told her what Harry currently didn't know and what he knew about himself, particularly about him not knowing his slumbering mage status.

To Pomona, it was a bit much to take in, and although she agreed with Dumbledore's plans for the boy's education, she was a bit unsure how to execute it. Harry was a hard worker, that had definitely been made clear by him since he had arrived. Every one of his assignments was already done, according to his classmates, and not only that, but he was studying ahead. Neville was going right along with him, which reminded her of another thing Albus had mentioned.

He would be speaking with Augusta Longbottom about Neville's wand. Evidently, the wand Neville had been given was not a good match for him. Dumbledore had determined that during the DADA lesson earlier that week. Pomona was glad Albus had discovered the problem and was taking care of it. No child should be forced to use an ill-suited wand, particularly a boy who already has confidence issues.

Her eyes fell on Neville currently sitting between Justin Finch-Fletchley and Susan Bones. He was worried about Harry and was poking at his mashed potatoes. She saw that a few of the other Hufflepuffs were trying to cheer him up, but it wasn't really helping.

She hoped Harry would be able to leave the infirmary soon, but until Pomfrey had decided he was well, he wouldn't be allowed anywhere. Magical fatigue could be a nasty thing; the only good thing was that he hadn't gone over into exhaustion. That would take at least a week to get over.

"How is Mr. Potter, Pomona?" Minerva asked softly.

"He'll be alright. He just tired himself out a bit," Pomona replied, suddenly being reminded of how she had lifted him up from Neville's trembling arms and carried him to the infirmary herself.

"That is to be expected, after what he had done. You must be very proud of him."

Pomona smiled. "Yes." She glanced over at Severus, who appeared to be deep in thought. She wondered what he was thinking about.

"Has he woken yet?" Filius asked, getting her attention.

"Not yet. Poppy decided it was best to keep him asleep for now," Pomona answered.

Filius nodded in understanding. "It was quite a feat for such a young and inexperienced wizard. I am glad he was able to help young Malfoy."

"He not only helped him, he saved his life," Minerva put in. "His injuries had been quite severe. A moment later and I doubt there would have been anything anyone could have done."

"Merlin," Filius whispered.

Pomona scooped some food onto her plate, silently working out what she would do in the near future with Harry Potter. Albus was right, he needed serious guidance, but she also knew he shouldn't be crowded.

She would need to find a happy medium.

Swallowing, she looked back at Severus, deciding something. The Slytherin Head of House seemed to have the right idea where it came to Harry. Perhaps it was time to really ally herself with him, at least in this.