"Well. At least we know where we can find another liver sample," Harry finally said, to Snape's silence. "What are you using on it? A duplicating potion?"

Snape was standing stiffly beside him, adding salt to a pot of boiling potatoes.

"Why is it that you appear to be slightly competent at cooking, when you're absolutely rubbish at potions?"  Snape finally sneered. Harry bristled, but realized that Snape was bitching because he didn't want to admit that he hadn't figured out the liver duplication.

"I'm sure I could bugger this up too if you'd like," Harry replied.  The sausages on the back pan of the stove were spitting, so he put a splatter cover on the pan.

Snape watched Harry add the rest of the ingredients to the onion gravy, the saucepan turning a rich brown and emitting a lovely stewed onions scent.

"If you fuck up bangers and mash," Snape began, taking the potatoes off the stove in order to drain and smash them, "you need to give back your British passport."

"Ha, ha," Harry grumbled.

It was much easier making dinner with a twin brother attached, as with both of them to watch over the stove things were cooked to perfection without any burning. The kitchen table was small, as it appeared that Snape lived in the flat by himself regularly, but a chair was enlarged enough for them to sit side by side and eat.

"This has been a long day," Harry said, chasing some peas into the mashed potatoes on his plate.  It had only been that morning in which they'd woken at Grimmauld Place and discovered that Mundungus Fletcher had broken the fidelius.

"Does little Potter need a nap?" Snape asked, spearing a chunk of sausage.

"No," Harry smiled grimly. "I thought you might wish one though, since you're much older than me and those injuries probably don't help with arthritis."

"Fuck you, Potter," Snape growled.  He struck like a viper and stole the remaining bit of sausage from Harry's plate.

Whatever Harry was going to reply with was lost however, with the appearance of a good-sized bear patronus in the living room.

Harry watched the bear sniff around the living room, inspecting the worktable and bed area before coming towards the kitchen. Snape had stopped eating and was watching it as well.

"Whose patronus is this?"

"I don't know," Harry admitted.  The bear seemed to be ignoring them, and was instead focused on the surroundings. It came into the kitchen and checked out the food area, eventually coming to sit before them by the table.

"Harry Potter and Severus Snape, you have absolutely no excuse for running off and not telling anyone where you have gone. It is currently eight-thirty in the evening, and I expect you both to check into the Burrow by ten at the very latest," Molly Weasley's voice said, clear through the patronus.

"As if we can check in separately," Snape muttered.

"You can tell she's raised twins, she at least considers us separate people," Harry pointed out.  "I wonder if she realizes we're twenty-five."

"We are not anything," Snape insisted. "You will send her a reply message stating that there is unfinished business. Say nothing more."

"Right," Harry scoffed. "I'll have the whole family hunting me down."

"Let them try," Snape smiled, but it was the same smile he used when he knew Harry's potion was ruined.  "We shall be going to Hogwarts."

....

Snape had the daft idea to enter the castle through a floo to his quarters, and then up to the Headmaster's office. Even though it was summer and the castle was likely to be quite empty, Harry vetoed the idea.

"We have an invisibility cloak and a map of Hogwarts," he'd argued, trumping Snape for once.  Harry planned to remember that rare victory for a while.

Especially since he'd turned out to be right.

The castle, even past nine pm, had more than a few people wandering around in it. Silencing charms on their shoes had enabled them to walk passed no fewer than four ex-students, poking through the halls of Hogwarts and looking for memories to sell to newspapers. Horace Slughorn was wandering through the lower dungeons, either in search of something or impressively lost, and two ministry officials were walking around and taking notes.

Snape had double warded the door to Dumbledore's office when they'd passed through, and Harry had gratefully thrown off the cloak.  The office looked much the same that it always did, with little trinkets covering all the surfaces, and small gadgets whirring quietly away on shelves.

"Aren't wizards usually buried with their wands?" Harry asked, as they moved around to the back of Dumbledore's desk. The chair wasn't wide enough for them to both sit in, so Snape enlarged it and they sat awkwardly.

"Would you be buried with the Elder wand?" Snape questioned.

After a moment's thought, and a quick cataloging of Dumbledore's desk, Harry shook his head.

"No. I'd probably burn it, for the trouble it seems to cause."

"Any sane person would," Snape muttered under his breath. He glanced at the portrait to his right, which remained as empty as it was when they'd entered the room.

"Knowing Dumbledore though," Harry continued, placing his hand on the top drawer of the desk, "he'd likely keep it bundled in his favourite pair of socks."

Harry pulled the drawer open and a letter appeared, rising up from wherever it had been hidden amongst the quills, ink bottles, and knitting needles in the drawer.

"To Severus or Harry,

With Voldemort's infiltration of the Ministry of Magic, I have growing suspicions that a surveillance spell will be placed upon my portrait proceeding death. As it will likely take some time for me to dismantle it, I regret to inform you that you will be working alone on this stage. Good luck, gentlemen.

Albus Dumbledore"

Harry put the paper down and scratched his forehead.  That certainly explained why Dumbledore's portrait seemed so easily satisfied to believe that Voldemort had been defeated. He wasn't quite sure who made the portraits of people after death, but Harry was certain Snape would explain it at an inconvenient time later.

Snape looked like he was going to start cursing again, so Harry dug his wand out and summoned the cigarettes from Snape's pocket.

"You may as well have one. We'll only kill each other sooner if you don't."

Snape wordlessly lit one and Harry ignored him as he looked around for a wand hiding spot.  Instead, his gaze found an ugly black stone on the desk, slightly smaller than a snitch and with a large jagged line cut through the centre of it.  He poked it with his own wand, noticing a small image inside the stone.

"That's from the ring that cursed the headmaster's hand," Snape deadpanned, blowing smoke over the desk. 

Harry ignored him and cast a quick detection spell over the stone. Satisfied that it was benign, he picked it up and peered closer at the image inside.

"It looks like there's a crest in here. And a coin of some sort," Harry said, scrunching up his face to see it better.

"There would be a crest," Snape said, his eyes closed while he smoked. "It's called a wizarding family ring, Potter."

"It's familiar," Harry said, his mind trying to remember when he'd seen the ring before.  He took another look at it, using a magnifying glass from Dumbledore's penholder.

"The coin inside, it's not part of the crest.  It says...what is that...URNT. It says URNT. And it's not...does that look like a stone to you?" Harry said, shoving the stone under Snape's nose. He received a blast of smoke for his trouble, and nearly slapped Snape while waving it away.

"A flagstone, perhaps," Snape said, taking interest.

"Death hands out tokens, with the place where that person will meet their end. What if the scene isn't that detailed? We never saw your uncle's, he just said it was a tube station."

"They'd be more detailed," Snape said firmly, putting out his cigarette with his wand.  "Detailed enough to recognize that exact moment."

"I'm surprised to see you here, boys. It's a little late," a tired voice interrupted.  Harry's eyes flew up to see Dumbledore looking down on them kindly.

"Good evening, headmaster," Snape said, nodding. He tapped the letter once with his finger, and Dumbledore nodded in return.

"It is getting on," Harry said, slightly louder than necessary.

"What are you, a nanny now?" Snape sneered, collecting the letter for his pocket.

"Harry just means well," Dumbledore smiled. "But I've always thought, Severus, that the best rest is always found at home."

"Perhaps," Snape acknowledged, standing and dragging Harry up. "We shall take our leave then."

Once they'd reached the hallway towards the tunnel out of Hogwarts, Harry clued in and whispered to Snape.

"It was code, wasn't it? He wants us to search - "

Snape clamped his hand down so hard around Harry's mouth that Harry almost bit him in surprise.

....

Snape's bed was snug into a corner against the wall, and had silvery curtains around it. Harry allowed Snape to levitate them into it, and they lay awake for a while, Snape reading a potions recipe book and Harry staring at the wall.  He still thought there was something odd about the stone, something familiar about it. Snape had said it was from a ring that had cursed the headmaster, and it had a crest on it -

"You're thinking too damn loudly and interrupting my peace," said Snape, waving his potion book irritably toward Harry.

"I can't possibly be thinking too loud, unless you're using legilimency. In which case, kindly get the hell out of my head," Harry snapped back.

"I assure you, I have absolutely no desire to know what goes on in your little head."

"Oh really? Well would you like to know that the stone was a horcrux?" said Harry, crossing his arms.

"The stone was a foolishly cursed object, nothing more. Remember what Silas said, you twit, the headmaster was wrong about Voldemort splitting his soul."

"The headmaster wasn't right about a lot of things," Harry conceded, "but I don't think he was dead wrong about this.  That image that's inside, there's something important to it. I wonder if it would show up in any other horcrux of Voldemort."

"Sure it will. Along with the unicorns and sugar gumdrops of fairy tale land, they'll all wave at you as you look."

"Well. It's no mystery to why you live alone," Harry sarcastically commented. "Dobby!"

"Oh no. Potter I don't - "

"Harry Potter sir! What can Dobby be doing for you?"  Dobby eagerly asked, popping into existence at the foot of the bed.

Harry ignored Snape's muttering beside him and focused on his little friend, who had a Manchester United scarf on this evening, in addition to the tea cozies.

"Do you remember the diary that I gave you when I was twelve?"

"Yes. Dobby keeps the diary safe in his cupboard, Harry Potter. It was the greatest day in Dobby's life."

Harry blushed and elbowed Snape in the ribs for snorting.

"You be nice to Harry Potter, Severus Snape," Dobby warned, shaking his little finger at Snape.  "Dobby protects his friends."

"Dobby, it's okay," Harry assured, holding out his hands. "I just need to see the diary. Can we see it?"

"Will Harry Potter wish to keep it?" Dobby asked, sounding unsure of himself. His fingers were tumbling over themselves, and Harry knew Dobby would hand over the diary for good if he demanded it.

"No, just need to see it for a day or two. I promise I will give it back."

Dobby flashed a huge smile and disappeared, without even confirming he was going to get the diary.

Snape turned to him and frowned.

"I cannot believe you stole a Malfoy house elf," said Snape, in a mock disappointed tone.

"I freed him," Harry protested, pointing at the empty end of the bed. "Lucius Malfoy was beating him, and he'd been visiting me all year, terrified that his family - "

"Professor Snape knows, Harry Potter," Dobby said, popping back into the room, his eyes huge and his little hands clutching the destroyed diary. Harry was amused to note that Dobby had wrapped a large yellow bow around it.

"He knew?" Harry asked Dobby, accepting the book.

"Yes, yes. Professor Snape has a nasty temper, Harry Potter. But he gave Dobby healing potions," Dobby asserted, nodding his head. "Dobby will be back for the book when Harry Potter calls."

And before Harry could make head or tails of the message, or wipe the smirk off Snape's face, Dobby disapparated again.

"So after all," said Harry, flipping through the book and trying not to grin, "underneath that exterior, you're just a big old - "

"Finish that sentence and I will murder you and harvest the organs I need."

Harry laughed as the pages skimmed by under his fingers.  He finally found something very faint in the last third of the book, a page he'd not noticed when he was twelve. Either that, or ink that had leaked out from the basilisk fang's stabbing had saturate a very light sketch that hadn't been visible before.

"Here it is," said Harry, holding up the book for Snape to see. "But it's not the stone image. This looks like a weird box-building under construction. What do you think?"

Snape studied it, holding it far enough away from his face to make Harry suspect he needed reading glasses.

"You didn't notice this when you first had this book?"

"No," Harry shuddered, remembering how creepy it had been to talk to Voldemort through the diary.  "It wasn't there."

Snape spent a few more minutes tracing the image with his finger, and then searching through the rest of the book.

"It can't be a token," he finally pronounced, tossing the book back on Harry's lap.  "It's not a precise enough image."

Harry shrugged down under the covers, lying back in bed. Snape moved at the same time, and shoved a rolled up blanket between their lower halves.

"It was stabbed with a basilisk fang," Harry defended, slightly petulant.

"That is the only reason we are taking it to Silas tomorrow for consideration," Snape said in a condescending tone, killing the light.

...

Harry woke to Snape shoving him in the shoulder.

"Get up," Snape grunted. "I need to go outside and think."

"It's three in the damn morning," Harry said, not bothering to open his eyes.  He scrunched the blanket close to him, but a strong hand landed on his shoulder and pulled him up as Snape sat up.

"It's two. Get up."

Snape threw Harry a jumper that he'd summoned from the closet and they shuffled through the darkened living room towards the balcony.  Harry shivered as he yawned, pulling his sleep trousers down a bit so they folded under his cold feet.

He regarded Snape through half closed eyes, watching as Snape withdrew a cigarette from the small pack he'd swiped off the counter on the way out. He had a small bag inside the pack, with little slivers of green half the width of a toothpick.

"Since when do you add stuff to your tobacco?" Harry asked, fighting another yawn.

"It's not stuff, it's hyoscyamus niger. And it helps me think," Snape replied, deftly inserting the green sliver into the cigarette and lighting it.

"Black henbane," Harry repeated, blinking his eyes a few times. "That's poisonous, you tosser."

Harry made to snatch the cigarette from Snape, but wasn't as quick with his left hand and missed.

"Always thought you'd preferred I'd poison myself," Snape smirked, taking a long drag.

"Not when I'm fucking attached to you. Do you put that in every damn cigarette?"  Harry demanded, still reaching for Snape's hand.

"Calm down," Snape grunted, batting away Harry's clawing fingers. "I only add it once a day, and there's not enough to poison a single man, never mind two."

"Two with compromised immune systems," Harry muttered.  "It's a hallucinogen? Addictive?"

"None of your damn business."

"You woke me at two am for a smoke. I'd say it's my business, Snape."

"Potter -" Snape warned, tapping his cigarette ash over the balcony.

 "Fine, whatever. Finish your fag and tell me if you see where the Elder wand is in the smoke," Harry huffed, pulling his arms into his sleeves and closing his eyes. He couldn't sleep standing up, but he could dream a bit and hopefully pass the time faster.

"This isn't divination, twit," Snape muttered.  Somewhere in the street below a man kicked at a car door and cursed.  Snape glanced quickly to his left, and after ascertaining that Harry's eyes were fully shut, blew a thick curtain of smoke out in front of them.

It disappeared into nothing, and Snape rolled his eyes.  He withdrew the black stone from his bathrobe pocket and smoothed over the jagged edges with his fingers.

"For an omnipotent wizard, you still managed to do extraordinarily stupid things," Snape mumbled, staring at the spot where the crest mixed with the image of the flagstone. The four letters URNT reflected plainly back to him.

Snape took one last drag of his cigarette as he glared at the black stone, and suddenly blew smoke all over it.  Shaking his hand, Snape held it up to the moonlight, where the crest inside was reflected multiple times through the jagged crack.

"Sonofa," Snape muttered, before tossing his fag over the balcony and shaking Harry's shoulders.

"Wake up, Potter. Potter!"

"Feck off," Harry mumbled, shrugging his shoulders out of Snape's grasp.

"Harry."

Harry opened his eyes and blinked wearily at Snape.

"The liver cannot just be replicated using a potion or ‘geminio,' because that spell creates a worthless duplicate."

"And?" Harry asked, watching Snape hold the stone up to the moonlight again.  He was having trouble following Snape's thought process.

"And this is a worthless duplicate," Snape finished.

"Of Voldemort's token?" Harry asked, reaching for the stone and missing as Snape yanked it away.

"I believe so."

Snape sounded very pleased with himself, and Harry rolled his eyes.

"We need to get some sleep. It will be a long day tomorrow."

Snape put one arm around Harry's shoulder and started marching him back into the flat.

"Anyone ever tell you you're an arsehole, Snape?"  Harry muttered, blindly following and collapsing back into bed.

...

Harry was woken up at eight in the morning by Ginny's horse patronus.  It was almost as large as Molly's bear, and trampled down on Harry's chest.

"For chrissakes," Snape grumbled, pulling his pillow over his head to block out the patronus' light.

"We need to talk. Meet me at Le Pain Quotidien on Exhibition road at noon. Be there, Harry."

The patronus gave a stiff nod and disappeared. Harry shifted uncomfortably in bed, knowing that whatever Ginny wanted to talk about, it likely wasn't going to be pretty.

"So, I guess I'm buying lunch," Harry offered, staring up at the stuccoed ceiling.

"I require a cigarette before attending to any Weasleys," Snape finally replied through the pillow.

....

Just at ten, when they were about to leave for the tube to find Silas, a knock at the door announced the arrival of a goblin from Gringotts.

"Fantastic," Snape sarcastically said, stepping back to allow the goblin in.

"Paperwork is a necessity of life, Mr Snape," the goblin responded in a similarly nasty tone.  "If you wish this to be as painless as possible, you can co-operate and we won't need to go to Gringotts."

"Entirely unfortunate then that any money you would receive as a tip is, indeed, at Gringotts."

Harry snickered through the exchange, walking with Snape to the kitchen table.

"Here are the forms we are required to complete following your...transformation," the goblin said, and Harry saw that his nametag read ‘Indgang.'

"It's written in gobbledygook," Snape growled, and Harry glanced at the forms as well. They looked like a strange mixture of pictographs and childish drawings.

"Lucky for you I speak it then, isn't it?" Indgang responded, raising one eyebrow. Harry had never seen the goblin version of one of Snape's looks.

"Names?" Indgang asked, quill poised over the form.

"Harry James Potter," Harry answered, watching the goblin write backwards.

"Severus Snape," said Snape, pulling his sleeves down to cover his wrists.

"Middle name as well, Mr Snape," Indgang clipped.

Snape looked murderous.

"James."

Harry's jaw dropped.

"Ha! Your middle name is James?" Harry snorted incredulously. "No wonder you hated my father."

"James is a perfectly serviceable Englishman's name, regardless of the unfortunate drudgery of people like your father erstwhile attached to it," Snape replied haughtily, his fingers twitching and his wand peeking out of his sleeve.

"I think we should call you James Snape," Harry mock pondered. He winced a second later when Snape's foot came down hard on top of his own.

"I think you should keep such thoughts to yourself if you wish to reach your eighteenth birthday," Snape informed him.

"Twenty-sixth," Indgang corrected, a smile on his face as he regarded Harry and Snape. "According to my paperwork, you both now have a birth year of 1972."

"The dates have not changed, have they?" Harry asked, wondering when Snape's birthday was.

"No. You are still the thirty-first of July, and Mr Snape the ninth of January."

"Huh, not even close," Harry murmured.  Indgang continued filling out the sheet for a few more minutes while Snape tried to eye-hex him with a glare.

"I assume that you wish to retain your original surnames?" Indgang asked, without looking up from the paperwork.

"Yes," both Harry and Snape responded immediately.

"There will be no mutilation of my surname," finished Snape.

"Pity. I'm certain the last name ‘Snotter' would fetch you quite a bit of attention," Indgang offered, keeping his face mostly straight.

"Yeah, funny as hell," Harry retorted back. 

Indgang retrieved one more piece of parchment from his briefcase and skimmed over it with his eyes.

"Mr Snape, shall we be taking your taxes on a monthly schedule as per usual?" the goblin asked.

Harry felt Snape tense in the chair beside him.

"No," Harry interrupted, earning a jab from Snape. "You'll be taking it from my account, all at once."

"Well that is very generous of you, Mr Potter," Indgang said, politely ignoring Snape's scowl.

"Yes it is," Snape intoned, his body tense. "And completely unnecessary. The previous arrangements stand."

"Oh, for the lov -"

"Keep your nose out of my affairs, Potter," Snape warned.

"They're mine now too, you git. It wasn't my choice either!"

"Explain to me how this is any of your concern," Snape growled. He'd shifted on the chair so he was facing Harry at a 45-degree angle - the best he could do given their attached side.

"Can you teach right now?" Harry challenged. He was sitting up with his wand in his hand, a lesson learned from the last time they fought.

"You know I cannot," Snape answered, gritting his teeth.

"Right. The taxes are being paid by me then."

"I don't need your help, you little cretin."

"Litt - we're the same damn size, Snape. We're bloody conjoined twins!"

"In spite of that, it's fortunate I won't feel the side effects of this. Cru -"

"Gentlemen!" Indgang coughed, his hand raised.

"Cruditas!" Snape finished, satisfied when Harry clutched at his stomach and grunted.

...

The café was in a busy part of London just south of the Natural History Museum. It was rectangular, with large picture windows, and had tables jammed in and around large potted plants inside.  It attempted to look trendy, and had several posters advertising free trade coffees and cookies, with outrageously expensive tiny packages of food pictured.  Harry and Snape maneuvered their way into a corner table, where Snape pulled his chair to the side and sat angled away from Harry.  The waitress brought each a drink while they waited, and Snape stared at the foot traffic on the street.

"She's late," he said, not glancing at his watch.

"Maybe she couldn't get away," Harry answered, leaning forward as far as he could without jostling Snape, resting his arms on his knees.  He looked to be staring at the door, but at a quick glance Snape saw that he was actually gazing past, at the floor.

"She'll be here. It was her idea," Snape said after a moment, sipping his coffee.

"You sound like you know why she wanted to meet me.
 Harry said, turning to look towards Snape. He didn't get a reply, however, as Snape removed a pair of disposable earplugs from his pocket as soon as Ginny Weasley walked into the cafe.  She didn't bother to get herself anything, which made Harry suspicious, but simply walked over to their table. 

Harry and Snape rose as if on cue, and Ginny gave Harry an awkward one-armed hug.

"Everyone is worried about you, Harry," Ginny said, giving him a once-over.

Snape took this as his cue to put in the earplugs, but Harry couldn't tell if Snape was actually deaf to their conversation or still listening in.

"I'm fine. We're fine," Harry smiled. He offered her his cup of coffee, but she refused with a small hand wave. "We needed to get away, to work on a few things."

"Yes, well. We've been busy too, with the congratulation ceremonies and reporters."

Ginny kept glancing towards the window, and Harry turned to see if he could spot what she was looking at.

"That's not...How are you doing? Is the family alright?" His hands bounced on his knee, as if he wanted to reach forward and grasp her hands, but couldn't. Instead, Harry wiped his palms against the rough denim.

"Mum misses you and she's pretty annoyed," Ginny deflected. "How long do you plan to be away?"

Ginny's eyes were mostly focused on Harry, but she stole glances towards Snape every now and again, little jabs of anger.

"Gin, you need to understand that not everything was cleared up with Voldemort.  I need to, we can't rest yet."

"You don't have to do everything, Harry," Ginny exhaled, sitting back in her chair and moving out of Harry's immediate vicinity. "There are other people willing to help you."

"I'm not," Harry asserted. He held up his hands and tried to explain, but Ginny interrupted him.

"It's okay, Harry. I think you were right anyway."

"I ..what? Right about what?"

Snape shifted ever so slightly in his seat, unseen by anyone but felt by Harry.

"In June, when you said we should take a step back. You have this business, and Snape, and it's your focus. I don't want to distract you," Ginny said, smiling at him. It wasn't the type of smile she'd ever given him before, and Harry was confused by it

"What are you talking about? You don't distract me, Gin," Harry laughed. He reached forward and did take her hand in his.  "And yeah, I have to work with Snape for a little bit, but he's a good -"

"Harry, you're attached to him!" Ginny exclaimed, keeping her voice to a minimal level. People were staring enough at Harry and Snape.

"Only until our organs are fixed!" Harry hissed in return. Snape continued staring out the window, but his whole posture was stiffened.

"And when will that be, Harry?" Ginny shook her head with a smile. "You need to concentrate on yourself and whatever this last thing is you need to do. Once you're done, and you're free of Snape, you can have any girl you want, and devote your whole attention to her. You were right before, and I won't push you into a relationship that you're not ready for."

"But, I thought you wanted to be that girl," Harry said, sitting back and looking confused.

Ginny stood up and gave him another half hug.

"I'll be a best friend, as always. Good luck, Harry," Ginny said, kissing his forehead. She turned and walked back toward the door.

Harry watched her exit the café and tie her scarf loosely around her neck as she headed east. He thought he saw Terry Boot waiting for her, leaning against a post box, but he wasn't sure.

Snape nudged Harry with his elbow, poking him in the ribs. He held a small rolled cigarette in his hand, a peace offering.

"I'm fine," Harry said, but his voice said otherwise.

Snape said nothing, and kept his offering out.

"You knew she would do that," Harry said a moment later, taking the cigarette and sticking it in his pocket. They stood up together and made to leave.

"I had an idea."

At the front of the shop was an old regular, by the looks of the set up he had at the table with his piles of newspaper. He sneered at Harry and Snape, his knobby nose holding up broken dirty glasses and obscuring a scraggy face.

"Women don't want no freaks, you know."

"Fuck off," Snape sneered, tipping the man's newspaper pile over as they walked by.

....

They had enough luck taking the tube from South Kensington to find Silas within an hour, hanging out at a newsstand in Embankment station.  Silas didn't have time to go back to his home office at the closed platform, but he did take them into a small employees-only lounge. Harry sat quietly, mulling over what Ginny had said, while Silas inspected the diary and the stone.

"What's wrong with'm?" Silas asked, nodding at Harry.

"Nothing," Harry responded, shoving his hands in his pockets.  Silas looked expectantly at Snape, but Snape merely shrugged his shoulders.

"We don't share a mind, thank god," said Snape.

Harry felt like kicking him, but figured that Silas would be much more curious if he did.

"Well, I got good news for you boys anyway. This is part of a token," said Silas, putting the items down on the desk.  He had a crooked smile on his face, and a smudge of grease high on his cheek.

"It has to be Voldemort's," Harry said, making a fist in his lap with his hand. "If he replicated his token, would that explain the distorted image inside it?"

Silas rubbed his chin, and Harry could hear the scratching where the rough skin of his hands brushed against the stubble on his face.

"Yeah. Might explain s'well how you're not able to kill ‘im. If he has a few copies of his token, it's no loss if one gets destroyed."

Silas looked slightly bothered by this, and Harry figured he was itching to get back and check on his own token's safety.

"So, Dumbledore was right about Voldemort making horcruxes to become immortal. Sort of," said Harry, smiling a little.  No matter Dumbledore's faults, he wanted to retain a memory of him as a man who he'd looked up to as a child new to the wizarding world.

"Do you know where the word horcrux comes from, Harry boy?" Silas asked, grinning.

Harry shook his head. Snape sat quietly beside him, sketching out a rough image of both elements the diary and stone contained.

"These tokens. There's that saying about selling your soul to death, or as muggles call it, ‘the devil.'  And that's what the deal is, you get your special wish, and after you're done, death gets your soul. During the height of the witch-hunt in the 1600's, there was all the talk and yelling about religion and the devil going on, people accused of selling their souls. Witches and wizards used horcrux instead when they talked about death's deals, to avoid persecution. Got into the books some how, got twisted along the way, and now you got scholars tellin' us horcruxes are made by ripping the soul in half."

Harry was staring at Silas.

"Really? It's been in use that long? And how'd it get so changed from the real meaning?"

"Half the time he's full of shit," Snape said, not looking up from his sketching.  He missed Silas giving him a rude salute.

"Meanings change through word of mouth, and you don't get many scholars making deals. Not all deals with death are bad, Harry. Remember that."

"How can they not be?" Harry asked, disbelieving. "And how do you know all this?"

He knew that Snape, though a sarcastic and mean-spirited man, was very intelligent, and figured it ran in the family. Silas seemed to be no-exception, though while Snape had his brain stuffed with stratagems and potion properties, Silas was full of random facts.

Silas didn't answer, however, preferring to watch Severus' work instead.

"Figured it out yet, boy?" Silas asked, sounding amused.

Snape leaned back, showing his sketch of the stone and the under construction building with a blue banner. He'd managed to make out two of the letters on a banner that was attached to the side of the building, which read OD.

"There's not much to work with," Snape said, testily.

I thought you always liked puzzles," Silas smirked, and then nodded at Harry.  "He looks like he's had a rough day though, so I'll not make you suffer."

Harry scowled slightly at the comment, but even he knew he'd not make any sense of the image they had at the moment.

"You'll find that spot at the cross of Bayswater and Edgeware," Silas said, standing up from the chair he was sitting at. "Where the old Tyburn Tree used to stand."

Snape's head snapped up at the words, staring at his uncle with widened eyes.

"The old Tyburn Tree..." said Snape slowly, shaking his head at Silas' smile.

Confused, Harry pocketed the stone and diary, checking that his wand was still in his side pant pocket.

"You and death must get along well. Same sick sense of humour," Snape said, as Silas kicked them out of the office.

 "Not so much," Silas said ruefully, heading for the southbound platform. "He likes the wrong cricket team."

Snape had pulled a tube map out of the holder on the wall and was searching for the streets Silas had mentioned on it.

"What's your choice, Potter? Find the wand and stone, or go after countless tokens and destroy them?"

Harry leaned back against the wall they were standing by, and Snape did the same.  Around them people were rushing about, not paying them any attention.

"This is like a bad card game that you never run out of chips for," Harry said.

"Stupid analogy, but make your choice," Snape commented, folding up the tube map.

"The hallows, I think. But, why did your uncle say Voldemort's token is for Tyburn Tree? There wasn't a tree in those images at all." Harry murmured, watching the crowd.

"It's not a tree, Potter. It was the wooden gallows where they used to hang murderers, highwaymen, traitors, and prisoners of Newgate and other gaols."

Snape pushed them off the wall and they walked out of the underground station, Harry stewing over what Snape had just said.  Death did sound like he had a sick sense of humour, and for once, he was glad Snape was stuck to him. At least this time he wouldn't have to face death all by himself, as it were.