Harry ran back down the dungeon corridors until he found the stairs, then walked unsteadily up them. His vision was blurred by tears he refused to shed, his heart heavy within him from the awful knowledge he now carried. His feet took him up to the seventh floor and Gryffindor Tower. He gave the password, "Strongheart" to the Fat Lady, just barely managing not to start laughing in mockery. He was neither stronghearted or courageous, he was falling apart.

He stumbled into the common room, which was cheerily lit and had a fire crackling merrily in the grate. He made it to the couch and sank down upon the comfy red cushions, grabbed a pillow and hugged it. He felt stunned and aching, as if he'd been pummeled for several hours by a Bludger. A part of him cursed his insatiable curiosity, his need to know Snape's secret past. Better that he had not known, than to feel this awful crushing despair.

You always knew he had something terrible in his past, whispered his conscience. And now that you know, what will you do?

Harry didn't know. Right then he both hated and loved his guardian, he was confused and hurting, and he wanted to both hex Snape and hug him. He recalled that discussion about rules and how Snape had stressed that Harry never draw a wand on him. Back then Harry had sworn that nothing would make him do so. But a few moments ago he would have cursed the Potions Master if he had his wand handy. But he had left it in the pocket of his robe, in Dumbledore's office. A lucky coincidence.

Harry curled up, still clutching the pillow, trying desperately to figure out how Severus could have betrayed his parents that way. Tears dripped from his eyes. He wished he had never learned of the bloody prophecy or Snape's dark past. He wished things could go back the way they were, but knew they never could. And it was that which hurt most of all.

He buried his face in the pillow and wept bitterly. He was not used to crying so openly, it had been forbidden for him to cry at Privet Drive. "None of your bloody sniveling!" was how Uncle Vernon used to put it, and Harry had learned early to shove the tears deep inside, or else risk Vernon's wrath. Or Dudley's scorn. But now he was free of the Dursleys, free to indulge in the solace of tears, and it was like a dam had erupted from within.

He cried for his parents, he cried for Severus, but most of all he cried for himself and for the bright future he had once foresaw, that had died a swift death and now all that remained were ashes. He cried and cried, until he was spent and the pillow was soggy and his nose all stuffed and his eyes puffy.

Finally he just lay there, sniffling, weary and cold, despite the warmth of the fire. It was a few moments before his natural resilience kicked in and he decided to go into the bathroom just down the hall and wash his face.

He lingered in the bathroom, blowing his nose and placing a cool cloth over his stinging and burning eyes.

He thought about returning to the common room and just falling asleep, trying to pretend that he was still innocent and had never learned of Snape's betrayal or his father's bullying ways or Dumbledore's complicity. But then he recalled his missing wand and robe and decided to go and pick them up. He wouldn't say anything to Dumbledore, just pick up his belongings and leave.

He peered at himself in the bathroom mirror. No trace of puffiness remained about his eyes and only a slight redness lingered under his eyes and his nose. He could easily hide it with his glasses and explain it away as a cold, should the Headmaster ask. He squared his shoulders and marched out of the bathroom. He might be cut and bleeding inside, but he would never show it. In that, he was very much like his mentor.

He made his way swiftly to the stone gargoyle that guarded Dumbledore's inner sanctum and spoke the password. The gargoyle slid aside and he stepped up onto the revolving staircase. When he reached the door at the top, he reached for the handle, not even bothering to knock. He had just eased open the door a crack when he heard voices inside, and one voice in particular, low, rasping, and full of fury.

Snape.

Harry froze.

"You just had to meddle again, didn't you, Albus? You couldn't bear not to stir the cauldron and watch it boil over."

"Harry came to me, Severus, I did not approach him. He told me Ron Weasley had accused you of being a Death Eater and he wished to know the truth."

"And why did you not send him to me?" rasped Severus. "It was my past and my story to tell."

"I tried, but he was insistent that I tell him. He said he would rather I tell him, he did not wish to upset you. I tried to dissuade him, Severus—"

"Not very hard, it seems! Always you have a soft spot when it comes to your precious Gryffindors."

"Severus, that's not fair! I have always tried—"

"Don't you dare speak to me of fair and unfair, Albus! For you know not the meaning of those words. I'll tell you what's unfair . . . to tell my ward about something I wished kept private. Harry is only a boy, he should not have to bear the burden of what I once was, it was not something he needed to know at this age. He's been through enough without that."

"I could not lie to the boy."

"No? You didn't have that problem last year, now did you? You should have told him you could not discuss it without my permission, sent him to me, not babbled like an old idiot whose wits were wandering! Damn you, do you have any concept of what you have done to me? To him? He was just beginning to feel comfortable with me, and I had just started to get used to having him with me, to feel like we belonged together. You know that I have no family, and had never thought to have one, given what I am and what I had done. He was my chance to finally have that, and to give him one as well. Name of Merlin, Albus, why did you not keep your bloody mouth shut?"

"I am truly sorry, Severus . . ."

"A bit too late for that, now isn't it?" said Snape caustically. "I had intended to tell him about my past later on, when he was older, and better able to understand the demons that drove me to follow the dark road. But you in your infinite wisdom—" here Snape's voice became cutting with sarcasm. "—and that thick-tongued dolt Weasley let the cat out of the bag and forced my hand. Now he knows of the prophecy and my part in it and considers me a traitor. Now he loathes me."

"Oh, Severus. I never meant for this to happen. I tried to tell him to just let it go, but he wouldn't listen."

"Wouldn't listen?" sneered Severus. "Who's the adult here, you or him? You made a choice to reveal my past to him, and now it is all ruined."

"Surely not. If you just went and talked to him, explained about the vagueness of the prophecy and—"

"I doubt it will do any good. He wouldn't listen to a damn thing I said." Snape's voice suddenly sounded weary, hurt, and hopeless. "I am his enemy now."

Upon hearing that, Harry nearly cried out in denial, but remembered where he was and managed to keep his mouth closed. He did not consider Snape an enemy, not really. His first flush of anger and hatred had flared and died and now he did not know just how he felt about his guardian.

"No. I cannot believe that." Dumbledore said firmly. "You saved his life, Severus. Many times. Harry knows that, he knows you care deeply for him. He just needs time, Severus. Time for the hurt to lessen."

"It is easy for boys his age to hate, Albus. You did not see his face when I told him, you didn't hear his voice when he spoke to me afterwards . . ."

"You yourself know that words spoken in anger are often are the ones you mean the least. Boys his age are often quick to snap, but they also forgive sooner than most."

"Do they? Not this. Eleven years since, and still the shame and guilt linger, Albus. Not a day goes by that I do not remember and regret what happened that night. I had thought by protecting Harry and raising him as I would my own child, I would finally atone for that terrible act. The boy deserves better, I promised him a normal life. A place he could call home. Someone he could trust to put him first. But I doubt he will have me now, not as mentor or guardian."

"You don't know that, Severus . . ."

Abruptly, Harry turned away. Listening to that conversation tugged at his heartstrings, but at the same time he was reluctant to let go of his anger. Snape had cost him his family, how could he forget or forgive that? And yet, he had heard the regret and remorse in the Potion Master's voice. Feeling utterly torn and overwhelmed, he decided to go for a walk. He needed to think, to sort through his feelings.

He retreated from the door and made his way back down to Snape's quarters, where he donned his coat, boots, scarf and gloves. Putting them on made him feel warm and cozy, and somehow closer to the professor. How could the man who had given him these wonderful gifts and rescued him from a lifetime of abuse be the same man who had betrayed his parents?

He headed out of the castle, careful to look around before slipping through the double doors. The last thing he needed right then was to run into Snape or Dumbledore.

Outside, the snow sparkled as the last rays of the setting sun struck it, and small crystals swirled through the air. Harry lingered for a few moments, breathing in the cool air and staring out at the snow-laden landscape, a small smile flitting about his face. It looked like a great evening to walk about, and he was surprised not to see any of the other students playing in the snow. Then again, it was also a great evening to sit in front of the fire and roast marshmallows and drink hot apple cider or creamy hot chocolate.

Just thinking about that made Harry's stomach rumble. He had missed lunch and hadn't felt much like eating dinner earlier. But now he was suddenly starving. He quickly shoved his stomach's clamoring aside, the way he had done almost all his life, and started walking across the lawn, the snow was almost up to his knees, but it couldn't penetrate his new boots.

Had it really been only a few days ago that he had played with Snape in the snow? It seemed oddly like a lifetime ago. Harry reached the verge of the forest, where the snow had been packed down and smashed by the Wise One's body as she had curled up and spoken to Charlie with Severus translating for them. He pulled out the gleaming golden scale and rubbed it, thinking hard of the Wise One.

Wise One. Wise One. I need you.

She had told him a few days before that the scale could be used to call her as well as guiding the holder back to her home. Harry had never tried the summons before but he badly needed to talk to someone, before he exploded from anxiety. The Wise One had helped him before, perhaps she would consent to do so again.

Again he sent out his silent plea.

Then he waited to see what would happen.

Some seven minutes later, the ruffed serpent came gliding through the trees, making a soft shushing noise. She gleamed like scattered gold dust, a rare and precious creature, the last of her kind. Her eyes reflected the sunlight, making them shimmer like a faceted emerald, all save the slit pupil.

**Harry, is something amiss? You smell . . . as if you were grieving. There is a distinct scent of wet salt about you, which in my experience means you have been weeping.**

The Wise One stopped in front of him, lowering her head and raising her ruff, her emerald orbs whirling with concern. She radiated warmth and compassion, and the combination of both was enough to almost cause Harry to lose control over his precarious emotions and start crying all over her. But he gathered the shreds of his twelve-year-old dignity and looked the great serpent in the eye and said, "I really need your advice. I have a problem and don't know how to resolve it."

**I see. Is this problem a knotty one? Ssshall we retire to my cave to discuss it? I would hate for you to . . .what is the human expression? Ah, catch cold, that's right. S-S-Severus would be most wroth with me, ssshould you fall ill again after you have recovered so nicely.**

Harry almost giggled at her quaint phrasing. Severus would be wroth indeed! The serpent was right, however. And Harry didn't fancy yet another week in the Hospital Wing, confined to a bed. So he opted to visit the Wise One's cave. "Is Icefyre still there?"

**Yes-s-s, he is. He ssleeps mostly, because unlike me, he is coldblooded, and winter weather makes his body hibernate to conserve energy and fat stores.** The Wise One answered, lowering the front half of her body so Harry could climb atop her bulk. Once Harry was secure, she undulated through the trees.

Harry sat on her back and said nothing until they had reached the cave.

Then he slid from her, landing easily upon her coils, for she had wound her body about herself several times, making of her coils a seat for the small boy. Icefyre's soft snores reverberated through the cave. Harry almost wished the basilisk were awake, for he might have known better than the Wise One what Harry should do. "How long has he been asleep? I spoke to him earlier today."

**Not long. Only a few hours. And I do not know if this is hibernation or merely ordinary sleep.** She tilted her head and gazed fondly at her cousin. Then she turned and focused upon Harry. **Now then, mon petit, what has you so upset?**

"Well, you see, it's like this . . ." Harry told her about Ron's accusation and how angry and curious it had made him. He told her about going to Dumbledore, their conversation about Snape as a Death Eater, and Harry's insistence about knowing the whole truth behind Snape's past.

"I thought, how bad could it be, and I was annoyed that Dumbledore kept treating me like some kind of baby, and not telling me everything. But he kept telling me to ask Severus, so I did, once I got a free moment alone with him before supper. And I was wrong. It was worse than I ever thought. Not only was he a Death Eater, but he . . . betrayed my parents."

**I do not understand. Betrayed them how?**

"He brought Lucius Malfoy a prophecy he overheard about a wizard born to kill Voldemort. Then Malfoy told his master and Voldemort decided to go after me and my parents and kill us before I could grow up and kill him. So it's because of Snape that my parents died. If he never told about the prophecy, they might still be alive."

The Wise One was silent for several minutes. Then she said, hissing softly, **Did Severus know who the prophecy referred to when he told about it? Did he know for certain that it pointed to you and your family?**

Harry hesitated. He recalled Snape protesting that he didn't know who the prophecy was meant to refer to, and Dumbledore saying the prophecy was vague. "Umm . . . I don't think so. The prophecy just said one would be born as the seventh month dies that would defeat the Dark Lord with a power he knows not or something like that."

**That prophecy could have referred to many people born at the end of the seventh month. Prophecies are often non specific in nature, and can be interpreted many ways. Is it not possible that Voldemort was to blame and not Severus, for interpreting the prophecy to mean you were his enemy? Did Severus suggest that you were the one the prophecy meant?**

Harry shook his head slowly. "No. I don't think so. But what does that matter? He told them about it!"

**It matters because it shows he bore no malicious intent to harm you or your parents. He told me once that he was your mother's best friend, that she was the only one he ever trusted to tell the terrible truth about his childhood—that he was beaten and hated by his own father—now does that sound like someone who would turn her in to her worst enemy?**

"No."

**Let me ask you something else. When he told you about what he had done, how did he act? Was he regretful, indifferent, uncaring?**

"He was regretful. He . . . he called it the worst mistake of his life and he was . . . ashamed."

** I see. No true dark wizard would ever express remorse over such a thing, Harry. They would think it was right and proper. But not S-S-Severus. Because he is not a dark wizard. Nor do I think he ever was one.**

"How can you say that? He told me himself he joined Voldemort after he left school."

**Child, one may join a group and not espouse all of its ideas and beliefs. I have known dark wizards in my time, and I tell you now that he has not the taint upon him. Whatever he was once, he is not the same now. And if he utterly repudiated the dark ones, he is the bravest human I know, for he would have had to have enormous courage to reject them and come back to the light, knowing full well both they and those of the light might consider him an enemy and attack him. Knowing too that the Light might forever mistrust him for his decision and no matter how much he tried, he might never be accepted as one of them. S-S-severus has traveled a long, hard, lonely road, Harry.**

"Yeah, but he chose to become a Death Eater."

**True, but I doubt the choice was all his own. He was young, and easily influenced by charismatic evil men. He made a choice to join them, but he also chose to return. How many do you know that have done that?**

"I don't know."

**In all of my centuries, I can say there have been very few to ever walk down the dark road and then return to the Light. To have the courage to admit to a mistake and then atone for it. Very few. He is to be commended.**

"What are you saying?"

**Simply this. What happened to your parents was a tragedy, and one that S-S-severus must bear some of the blame for. But not all. The largest part of the blame must rest with their murderer, do you not agree?**

"Yes."

**Ask yourself this as well. Your parents were fighting a war against Voldemort. He was their avowed enemy, correct? Even without the prophecy, there was a chance that they might have confronted Voldemort anyway, is that not ssso? And been killed. In war it is often ssso. Voldemort made a choice too, to try and evade his fate. But, as you know, all his attempts failed. Twice. He died once when his spell failed against you and again when Icefyre attacked him. He was indeed defeated by the power he knew not.**

"Dumbledore said my mother's love protected me and that was what killed him."

**Even ssso. Voldemort never knew love from anyone. Nor did he know what it was to be a friend. That was his downfall. For you befriended Icefyre, not simply manipulated him and used him for your own purposes. Like S-Salazar before you, you respected the sserpent and that made all the difference.**

**But you'd not have lived to be a friend to me if not for your mentor** Icefyre broke in, having woken from his sleep and heard most of the conversation, but remaining quiet until then.

Harry turned to see the hooded basilisk swaying back and forth. "I know. I know he saved my life. In more ways than one." He unconsciously ran his hands down his new coat, sleek black suede and golden fleece. "That's why it's so hard to believe that he did something like that. What was he thinking?"

**Perhaps you should asssk him,**suggested Icefyre. **People change. Remember when I asked you this morning if what you found out about S-S-Severus would change your opinion of him? You said it would not. Have you changed your mind? Do you not wish him to be your guardian?**

Harry was silent for several long moments. Angry and upset as he was at the other man, he had never considered leaving Snape and choosing another guardian. As he had said to Ron, Snape was the best one for the job. He trusted Dumbledore even less than he did Severus, and could not imagine anyone else as his guardian. "No, I . . . I still want him to be my guardian, it's just that . . . I don't know if I can trust him to tell me the truth."

**About his past?**

"Yes . . . no . . . I don't know."

**It ssseems to me you are confused about why your mentor kept his past a secret from you. If I had to guess I would ssay that he was ashamed of what he had done and did not know how to tell you about it, and two, that he was trying to protect you. Sssometimes adults try and sshield their children from painful things, I remember Morgana always complaining about S-Salazar being too overprotective. I believe that is why S-Snape did not tell you what had occurred.**

The Wise One bobbed her head in agreement. **You must understand, there are things that no parent or guardian would wish their child to know, especially one as young as you.**

"I'm not a baby!" Harry snapped indignantly. But then he recalled Severus' words to Dumbledore, saying that he would have waited to speak of such things until Harry were older.

**No, but all parents are overprotective of their children. Especially if they know something that would hurt you. S-S-Severus believed that it would do more harm than good to tell you now.**

"Maybe you're right. Maybe I should have just kept my nose out of it. But now that I know, I . . . don't know how to feel anymore. I just want to forget about it, sometimes, but then I don't and all I can think of is how the man who saved my life and bought me this coat is the same one who became a Death Eater. I don't know if I can forgive him for what he did."

**And yet you forgave me.** Icefyre reminded him.

"That's different. You're a basilisk, you didn't . . ." he trailed off abruptly, just before he would have insulted the serpent by saying "you didn't know any better."

Icefyre hissed softly in reproof. **How ssso, little sssnakeling? Just because I am a basilisk does not mean I did not know what I was doing. I was misled, yes-s-s, but never assume that I did not choose to listen to the false heir's promises. I chose to obey his dictates and to kill innocent children and prey upon those who had never done me harm. Unlike S-S-Severus, mine was not an indirect harm, I hunted and killed. Mine was the greater crime by far, and yet you can accept that I have changed, that in ssslaying the False S-S-Slytherin, I have now atoned for my sssins. You ssstill call me friend. But you cannot forgive your guardian, who did sso much more for you than I have ever done, who loves you like his own? Who ssaved your life, not once, but thrice? We have a sssaying among my kind—third time pays all debts. I would sssay that by his actions, S-S-S-everusss S-Snape has paid enough for a mistake he committed inadvertently. But then, perhaps it is different among humans? You have ever been a vengeful race.**

Harry flinched, for Icefyre's words pricked him in uncomfortable places within his heart. The basilisk had as much as admitted that he was a killer, and yet Harry was not afraid or distrustful of the giant snake. Why was he able to accept Icefyre's mistakes but not Severus'? An instant later he had his answer. Icefyre's crimes had been committed against unknown people, people Harry would never know. But Severus' crime was against his parents, and so hit closer to home.

"I . . . want to forgive him, but . . . if I do that then won't it mean that I'm dishonoring my parents?"

**Ah, Harry. Would your parents wish you to carry such a burden around? Would they forgive S-Severuss if he came to them and proved he was sincerely sorry for what he had done?**

Harry thought about it. From all he had learned of her, Lily probably would forgive her old friend. He suspected James might have as well, after hexing Snape to the moon. He nodded. He didn't want to have this terrible weight upon his heart, he wanted the pain to stop. He didn't want to hate Severus, who had rescued him time and again and whom he had just begun to admire and to almost love.

**Harry, to err is human, to forgive, divine. And forgiveness doesn't mean all is forgotten, simply acknowledged and accepted.** The Wise One explained"

The small boy heaved a sigh. "All right. I can forgive him. But I don't know if I'll ever trust him the same way."

**Trust is another matter altogether. That is something that you must decide for yourself, although if you expect a Slytherin to give up all his secrets, you are out of your mind. You ought to know that by now.** Icefyre stated.

Harry managed a small smile. "'Course I do!" He hissed back.

**Good! My advice to you, youngling, is to ssspeak with your mentor and ssort things out between you. Holding anger and resentment inside of you can only fester and poison your ssspirit.** advised the basilisk.

**Icefyre ssspeaks true,** the Wise One said serenely. **Anger and resentment turn to bitterness and bitterness to hate, and that is not what you want to happen. Go to S-S-Severus and talk to him. He is a good man, despite his mistakes, both past and present. Trust me on that.**

There was little Harry could say to refute that, and just leaning against the Wise One imparted a sense of warmth and security which he badly needed. He trusted the ruffed serpent, who radiated an aura of peace and serenity that soothed the raw places in his spirit and gave him hope again. "Okay. Will you take me back to school now?"

**I shall,** the ruffed serpent agreed, then she unwound herself and headed back out into the snowy woods with Harry on her back.

SWSWSWSW

At supper that night, Snape was absent, leaving Harry with Dumbledore and the other students for company. Harry barely touched his food, his stomach was in knots and he feared whatever he ate would come right back up. He listened to the other students joking and talking about different things and wished that Hermione or Neville were here. Or even Ron, so he could grouse at the redhead for causing such strife between him and Snape.

Harry ate one scoop of ice cream before pushing his chair away and leaving the hall. His heart was heavy within him and he debated, hesitating at the top of the dungeon stairs, whether to go and find Severus and speak with him. A part of him longed to go and confront the professor, but another part feared that Snape no longer wanted anything to do with him after their quarrel, and so he stood there for several long moments, teetering upon the horns of a dilemma. Until finally, he turned away and trudged up to Gryffindor Tower, where he spent two hours tossing and turning before falling into an uneasy sleep, curled up in the middle of his bed, the hangings ajar and the lamp left on.

He never noticed a silent black robed figure enter the tower and stand at the side of the bed, looking down at him with a wistful expression upon his face. Severus gently tucked the covers around the boy, for he had kicked them off and was now shivering slightly. The Potions Master had waited all afternoon and night for the boy to return to his quarters, figuring if he went after him, he would only make Harry even more upset. Dumbledore had said to give Harry time to assimilate what he had learned and so Severus had decided the best course of action was to wait for Harry to come to him when he was ready.

However, when night fell, he had grown concerned and used the Monitoring Charm to find the boy, relieved when he discovered Harry asleep in his bed in the tower, though the sight of the dark-haired boy sleeping alone in the large empty room made him wince. So, it has come to this. You prefer this cold drafty tower to the room I had made for you with its own fireplace and down comforter and the posters you picked out yourself for the walls. You prefer to be alone than to be in my company for even an evening. Very well then. I shall respect your decision, though I wish you would at least discuss things with me. Sleep well.

One long-fingered hand brushed across the top of Harry's head, tangling briefly in the dark hair, then withdrew reluctantly. Silently, the professor departed the room, wondering in how so brief a time, Potter's scamp of a son had managed to touch his heart so deeply. So much so that he actually found himself missing the boy when he was not around for a single night.

Day 2:

It was the beginning of the last week of the holidays, and Harry allowed himself to sleep an extra hour before rising and going to take a long hot shower. He loved this time, when he was able to linger in the warm steamy shower without worrying about getting to class on time or using all the hot water or having to cook breakfast for the Dursleys. At Privet Drive he hardly ever got a hot shower, he was forced to shower after everyone else had and by then the water was cold.

After he had melted his bones, he dressed, and went down to breakfast wondering if Snape would be there. Instead he found only Dumbledore in the Great Hall, eating chipped beef on toast and poached eggs.

"Hello, Harry! It's a good morning, isn't it?"

"Hello. Err . . .is Professor Snape coming to eat?" Harry asked as he slid into his place to the left of the Headmaster. Since it was the holidays and Dumbledore liked company at mealtimes, all the students currently at school were invited to sit at the staff table if they chose.

"He was just here. Had a piece of toast and a banana and coffee before he said he had to start brewing some remedies and drafts for the new term. So he's probably stirring about in his lab."

"Oh." Harry said. He considered going down to the dungeon, but then lost his nerve. If Snape were brewing he wouldn't welcome the interruption. He would simply wait until the afternoon.

"Did you wish to speak with him, Harry?" inquired Dumbledore kindly.

"Uh . . .yeah, but I can talk to him later. He'll bite my head off if I interrupt him while he's brewing." Harry said, quietly eating some toast, bacon, and eggs.

Dumbledore chuckled. "Yes, he's been known to snap if someone disturbs him in the midst of his brewing. I do hope that you aren't still angry with him for what happened eleven years ago, Harry. It was never my intention to cause a rift between you when I spoke of Severus' past, only to help you gain a better understanding of why Professor Snape is the way he is."

Harry just kept eating, not answering or looking at Dumbledore. But the food, which had tasted good a moment before, now tasted like ashes on his tongue and his stomach began to hurt. He pushed away his half full plate. "I've got to go and study, sir. Got a big Transfiguration test coming up at the beginning of next term."

Then he stood up and almost ran out of the room.

He spent five minutes pacing about his room before losing the battle with his queasy stomach and puking up what little he had eaten.

Afterwards he went and lay down on his bed, feeling miserable.

He kept going around in circles, thinking about what he would say to Snape, or what Snape might say to him. When should he approach the professor? And how should he begin the conversation? Finally he decided to write Hermione and clue her in on what was going on. The witch always had sound advice for him, and perhaps she could offer him some help on how to proceed.

He pulled out several sheets of parchment, sharpened his quill, and opened a fresh bottle of ink. Then he began to write.

Twenty minutes later he was finished, had sprinkled some sand upon the letter to help the ink dry quicker and once it had dried stuck it into an envelope and went to the owlery to have Hedwig deliver the letter. Hedwig was pleased to run the errand and flew away swiftly.

Harry wondered how long it would take before Hermione responded. It was chilly in the owlery, at least to Harry, who had forgotten to put on slippers or socks and was standing on the flagstones in bare feet. He glanced down at his chilling toes and mused that Snape would have his hide if he saw how lackadaisical Harry had become.

Shrugging, Harry headed down the stairs to the seventh floor and then he wandered about the upper floor, since returning to his empty common room and dormitory held no appeal, nor did slipping back into Snape's quarters and into the room the professor had created just for him, a private spot for his ward. He idly began trying doorknobs along the seventh floor, most were locked, a few were empty and one had some old boxes of robes and old school blankets, plus other odds and ends, like a frayed cap, a moth-eaten scarf, shoes that looked like they'd gotten a potion spilled upon them.

Must be the room of lost and found objects, he mused, walking into the room. There was also some old furniture in there, like chairs with rickety legs and a huge throne-like one with dusty red velvet cushions that looked like it had been around since the days of Henry VIII.

Harry sneezed and waved his hand to clear the air of dust. His eye was caught by a large upright object beneath a large midnight blue drapery. His curiosity overwhelming him, he tugged off the drape to reveal the Mirror of Erised.

Harry hadn't seen the mirror since last year, when he'd managed to get the Sorcerer's Stone out of it. Last time he had looked into the mirror he had seen his parents. He wondered what he would see if he glanced in the mirror now.

He recalled Dumbledore's warning about the mirror, but then decided a mere glimpse couldn't hurt. He walked in front of the mirror and peered into the smoky depths.

There was a peculiar blue flash and then Harry was transfixed by the sight of his parents and farther in the background was a familiar figure in a black cloak. Severus. He peered harder into the glass, the figures were so misty.

As he stared, the figures suddenly sharpened, and then he felt his mother's arms about him, his father's hand upon his shoulder.

"Harry, we've missed you so much," Lily crooned, holding him fast.

"You seem like you're tired, son. Stay here and rest awhile." James told him, and Harry shivered, for his father's hand was cold, he could feel the chill even through his jumper.

How strange. This never happened before. Or did it? I can't remember. He gazed up at James and Lily and smiled. This was how it should have been, would have been, had not Snape told Voldemort of the bloody prophecy. He looked over at Snape, who seemed to suddenly grow more and more misty. Harry felt a bit uneasy upon seeing that, it was as if Snape were a ghost.

He turned and looked at Lily, marveling at how solid she seemed to feel, and said, "Mum, can I ask you something?"

Lily smiled down at him. "Of course, sweetheart. But not yet. Let me look at you, hold you. I have dreamed of this ever so long." Then she bent and kissed him on the forehead.

The touch of her lips seemed to draw all the warmth from him and he felt himself floating, drifting, sinking into Lily's arms. She was so warm and he suddenly felt chilled to the marrow of his bones. A small voice in the back of his mind began to shriek that something was wrong, but he ignored it. This was where he belonged.

Tendrils of a frosty blue surged from the mirror and wrapped about Harry, slowly leeching away all his body heat, as the curse upon the mirror activated.

SWSWSWSW

Severus had finally finished decanting the last draft and putting in the stopper. He then took them in a padded box to the school storeroom and started restocking the shelves. Just as he had set the last vial upon the shelf, he felt the Monitoring Charm quiver in warning. Frowning, Severus shut and locked the potions store and scowled.

Great Merlin's ghost, what has that boy gotten into now?

He felt the Monitoring Charm buzz in his ears even more urgently, and followed it up the stairs to the seventh floor.

Upon reaching the Room of Lost Things, Severus threw open the door, and called, "Harry? Are you in here?"

When no reply came, Snape entered, cloak billowing, and glanced around.

Almost immediately he caught sight of a strange blue glow among the dust motes floating thickly in the air. "Potter, what the hell are you playing at?" he snapped, angry that the boy would deliberately ignore him.

He strode around the boxes and stepped upon the thick drape lying on the floor.

"Hellfire and damnation!" he cried in shock upon seeing the insidious tendrils of mist sucking at Harry's prone form. He looked into the mirror, and saw Lily and Harry standing next to him. Almost, he succumbed to the vision, and the blue mist quested towards him.

But Severus Snape was not one to be seduced so easily by dark magic, not after so many years of studying it and learning how to counter it. Recognizing the trap for what it was, he quickly Occluded his mind and warded himself. The mirror went blank and the blue tendrils hissed against his magical shields, melting away.

Severus knelt quickly by Harry, who was so cold Snape feared he was a corpse, and shook the boy hard. "Harry! Wake up! You're in a trance, it's not real. Harry! Wake up, dammit!"

But the boy remained unresponsive, still trapped in the web of desire.

Harry snuggled happily into Lily's arms, uncaring that he was feeling rather detached and his blood felt like ice in his veins. His mother was warm and comforting, he had dreamed of this moment for so long, wishing and wanting for something he could barely remember, and now it was here.

He felt James' hand upon his shoulder, patting him and murmuring, "I'm so proud of you, Harry. You're just like me, brilliant. We can play Quidditch together, go flying together, you're a chip off the old block."

"Sure, Dad," Harry smiled.

Then he heard someone calling him. The voice was loud and discordant.

"Harry! Harry, wake up!"

He shook his head rebelliously. "No. I want to stay here. Right here."

Again the voice came, sharper, stronger, and he felt himself start to withdraw from Lily and James. Frantic, he clung harder to his mother, ignoring the painful frozen spikes that stabbed through him.

"Don't go, my son. Stay here. Stay . . ." James said.

"I won't. I'll stay right here."

"Yes, my darling. Right here." Lily whispered, her green eyes alight with a possessive need. "Stay here and keep me warm forever and ever."

"Yes, Mum," he murmured sleepily. The cold was overwhelming now and all he wanted was to sleep.

CRACK!

Severus' hand stung as he slapped his ward hard across the face, desperately trying to bring Harry back from the semi-coma he had drifted into.

The boy's head jerked and then Harry's eyes flew open and he stared at Severus in puzzlement. "Huh? What?" His hand rose and touched his cheek.

"Harry, listen to me. You're under some kind of curse and I need you to focus all of your will upon remaining awake. Understand?"

"But why? I wanna go to sleep, I'm tired and cold and I was having the best dream . . ." Harry whined, sounding like a small child.

"Forget the dream," Severus said sharply. "Just concentrate on me. Don't close your eyes."

"But they're waiting for me. I've got to go back. Mum and Dad are waiting . . ." He yawned.

"No!" Severus shook him. "Do not fall asleep!"

Harry glanced towards the mirror, seeking the solace of his parents' faces. "I want to see them again! I have to see them again!" he shouted, trying to push Snape away. But he might as well have been tapping his hands against a brick wall. Snape was immovable.

"Hush. Hit me if you want, but stay awake," the professor muttered, and then began to pass his wand rapidly over Harry and chant very softly. He made certain to keep his body inbetween Harry and the mirror.

Harry started to shiver violently. "Don't you understand? I have to go back! They're waiting for me."

He could feel something tugging and pulling at him. The mist . . .it was releasing him. He reached out for it, crying sharply, "No! Take me with you! Take me . . ."

The mist was curling about Snape's wand, like smoke from a lit cigarette. It hissed and writhed, but Snape never ceased his chanting, keeping the mist centered upon him. Then he snarled a word in Latin and the mist vanished with a loud pop.

No sooner than that had happened, there came a tremendous CRACK!

The Mirror of Erised now had a huge crack marring its surface.

The curse was broken and so too was the vessel that contained it.

"You broke the mirror!" Harry cried.

"Yes. And the curse upon it as well." Severus said, relaxing. He cast one last look at the shattered object before bending down to lift Harry into his arms. "Merlin's bones, boy, but you're like a block of ice. What were you thinking, meddling with that bloody mirror that way? Didn't Dumbledore tell you to stay away from it?" He quickly cast a Warming Charm over his ward. Some of the color started to come back into Harry's cheeks.

"I just . . .wanted to see them once more . . ." Harry whispered, his teeth chattering. Sudden tears stung his eyes.

Severus shook his head. "Never mind. You're lucky I found you when I did. Forgive me for striking you, but you wouldn't wake up any other way. I'll put some healing balm on your cheek once we get back to my quarters. You need a hot bath and some PepperUp potion, warm pajamas, about a dozen hot water bottles and—bloody hell, what are you doing without shoes on? Must I Stick them to your feet? Perhaps you need a Remembrall like Longbottom?"

Harry yawned again, letting Snape's scolding drift over him like a warm breeze. "Sorry. I forgot."

Severus rolled his eyes. "Merlin grant me patience!" he strode rapidly from the room, Harry cradled close. "After I make sure you're not going to die of hypothermia and talk to Albus about that cursed mirror—"

"The mirror was cursed?"

"Yes. Surely you don't think that blue mist was accidentally put there to suck all the warmth from you?"

"I saw my parents . . ."

"I'm sure you did. Whoever set that spell was fiendishly clever, to tie the original magic of the mirror to this curse. You were beginning to fade, if I hadn't come when I did, you would have . . .you might have died . . ."

"I would? I didn't know . . .I was with my parents, my mum was holding me, she wanted me to stay with her. Dad too . . ." He trailed off, tears falling down his cheeks.

"Harry, that wasn't real. It was all part of the spell, to trick you into surrendering to the dark magic. The only peace you would have found would be the eternal peace of the grave," Snape said, not unkindly.

"Are you sure?" Harry sniffled.

"Positive." He gently wiped away the boy's tears with his thumb. "I'm not entirely certain who set that curse, but I have an idea. I need the Headmaster to confirm it, however . . ." He glanced down at his ward. "How are you feeling now? A little warmer?"

"Yes, sir. Thanks."

Snape made a noncommittal noise. "After you're out of danger, you and I need to have a very long talk."

"Okay, professor." Harry murmured, he was feeling very tired. "Can I go to sleep now?"

"Try and remain awake for a little longer. I need to get some potions into you first."

Harry tried, but found himself drifting, lulled into a doze by the warmth of the black cloak wrapped about him and way Severus was holding him close in his arms.

He was shaken awake as soon as Severus reached his quarters, when Snape set him down in bed and gave him several drafts which made him warm from the inside out. Snape ran a bath for him and let Harry soak in it for about twenty minutes, after applying the salve to his face. The faint imprint of the professor's hand faded away as Harry looked in the mirror. Harry touched his face in awe. Magic really was wonderful, especially the healing kind.

A knock sounded at the door.

"Harry, you need to come out before you fall asleep in there and drown," came the professor's voice, only slightly snarky.

"Whatever you say, sir," Harry mumbled, rising reluctantly from the warm water and dressing in his warmest set of pajamas.

Snape had his bed turned down and Harry slid into it. Then the professor placed several quilts over him and tucked a hot water bottle against his feet, which were now wearing thick socks.

"Warmer now?"

"Lots." Harry wriggled his feet in pleasure. He felt deliciously warm and cozy. "How come you don't use a spell to warm me up?"

"You've already been exposed to too much magic for one day. I don't want to overload your system and besides, the ordinary way works just as well." Snape snapped his fingers and a thermometer appeared in his hand. "Open up. I need to take your temperature, make sure it's back to normal."

Harry obeyed. The glass thermometer felt cool under his tongue.

"Keep that there until I return." Severus departed to summon Albus by Floo and inform him of what had just occurred. If his hunch was correct, the mirror had been cursed by Voldemort himself, using Ginny as the vehicle for his magic. The only question Snape had not figured out the answer to was why.

After speaking with Albus, Severus returned to Harry's room and removed the thermometer. He examined it, noting with relief that Harry's temperature was now normal. "You're back to normal. Are you hungry?"

Harry shook his head.

"When did you last eat?"

"This morning. But after I was sick and I still don't feel like eating."

Severus gave him a Stomach Soother and then a cup of broth. "Drink that all and then you can sleep. Don't worry, I'll be right here. The Headmaster is examining the mirror."

"It was a trap," the boy murmured, sipping the herb-infused chicken broth. "For me."

"Very likely. But it's broken now. You can stop worrying about it."

"Are you sure?"

"Harry, no one at this school knows more about dark curses than I do. It's the only advantage I ever gained from my days as a Death Eater," Snape said wryly.

"Besides knowing how best to fight them," Harry added.

"That too. We'll discuss that later. Finish your broth."

Harry did. There was much they needed to talk about, but right then he was so tired he couldn't even string two thoughts together, much less converse intelligently. He handed the mug back to Snape and then snuggled down under the covers. Within minutes he was asleep, never realizing that his sneaky guardian had slipped him a Mickey Finn in the form of a few drops of Dreamless Sleep mixed in with the chicken broth, ensuring him a deep and healing sleep.

Snape left Harry slumbering and returned to his sitting room, where he wrapped his cloak about himself and leaned back into the plump silver gray sofa cushions, waiting for Dumbledore to come and tell him his findings. For that was Dumbledore's specialty, being able to trace magical signatures of spells back to the caster. Snape crossed one booted foot over the other and waited, thanking all the powers that be that he had reached Harry in time.