The second or third day she was back, McGonagall called Harry into her office. Harry had been shocked by how much weight she'd lost and the stark white stripe that now adorned her hair; things he'd noticed the first day she'd returned to teaching Transfiguration. The weight loss was much more obvious now as he stood in her office than when she was up in front of the classroom; her robes seemed to be wearing her. For the first time ever she seemed like a frail old woman.

She waved her wand and the door shut gently behind Harry. For a moment she just looked at him. He nervously stood, quelling the urge to rock from foot to foot.

She gestured to the straight backed, wooden chair in front of her desk, and he took it. She looked at him as though she'd never seen him before."You wanted to see me, Professor?" he finally asked to break the uncomfortable silence.

"Yes, Harry."

She must be worried about me, he thought, as she seldom called him by his first name.

Her voice was very quiet and gentle: "Professor Snape apprised the Headmaster and I of your...circumstances...with your relatives."

"Oh." Harry knew she had to be told, but that didn't make it any easier. He nodded, unwilling to trust his voice. He wasn't sure he could cope with the humiliation if she suddenly started treating him as though he were fragile.

"I know Mr. Longbottom's death must have been quite a shock, as it was to all of us. Augusta...Mrs. Longbottom...said he always spoke very highly of you and Mr. Weasley and Miss Granger." She stopped, her mouth trembling. "I- I wanted to tell you how sorr..."

Harry cut her off. "It's fine, Professor," he said firmly, pleased that his voice didn't tremble. Normally, he would never ever have interrupted Professor McGonagall, but he was almost panicked by the idea she might apologize to him. It panicked him almost as much as talking about Neville did.

Something must have shown on his face as a look of comprehension flitted across hers. "Did Professor Snape explain why he took custody of you?" she asked, changing the subject.

Harry nodded. "He said he was the only one available. I know you and Professor Dumbledore were busy."

She nodded. Harry thought she looked quite relieved now. He could hardly blame her. It must have been a real problem to figure out what to do with him, but it wasn't as though he wasn't accustomed to that. Every time the Dursleys went out, there had been a bit of a fuss to find someone to pass him off to if Mrs. Figg wasn't around.

"Quite right," she said after a moment. She had begun to regain her brisk manner, sounding much more like herself.

"I know that you and Professor Snape have not always gotten along, but I trust he has been..." she paused, seeming to search for the right word, "all right?"

Harry nodded. Snape had been more than all right—for Snape. "He's been really decent, actually," Harry said honestly, wondering where this was going.

McGonagall relaxed minutely. "I want you to know you can come to me if you have any trouble, in future, Harry," she said, back to that soft, gentle voice.

Harry stopped himself from rolling his eyes. He was fond of the stern professor (though he'd never admit it to Ron, of course), but he'd never viewed her as a confidant. Especially since first year when she'd discounted Ron, Hermione, and himself telling her that someone was trying to steal the Sorcerer's Stone. All he said was: "Yes, Professor."

After that little interview, the teachers seemed content to leave him alone. Even Lupin had given up his campaign of trying to have a friendly chat with Harry. Snape seemed to keep a closer eye on him in class, but otherwise behaved almost normally.

The term settled into its usual round of homework and Quidditch practice. Harry slipped out every afternoon to feed Snuffles, although it was getting darker earlier. Harry made sure he got back in before dinner. He had the vague idea that he wasn't supposed to be out after dark, though he didn't ask anyone directly for fear of them forbidding him from going out at all. He couldn't venture out at lunchtime either—Snape had repeated to him, the day they'd bought his new things, that he would ban Harry from Quidditch if Harry missed a meal.

Snuffles, for his part, was rapidly becoming the best friend and confidant Harry had. Ron and Hermione were wrapped up in some drama over Ron's rat and Hermione's cat. Harry was also uneasy about speaking to them about what was going on in his head. He didn't want them to get the wrong idea and run to a teacher.

Snuffles didn't judge and was more affectionate than Hedwig. Harry supposed that dogs were just cuddlier. Many afternoons found Harry curled up under a tree with the giant dog, especially as the weather turned colder.

The bed Neville used to occupy was moved from the dorm, and after a few days, it didn't even seem strange that there were only four of them. It upset Harry how quickly Neville's absence became normal, though, as if they were somehow betraying his memory.

The teachers seemed to be recovering from their shock as well, although McGonagall's lessons seemed less difficult than last year and Snape, while not what one could call nice, lacked the harshness that had characterized his lessons before Neville's death. Dumbledore's eyes still followed Harry when he was in the Great Hall, but that was the only place Harry ever saw the headmaster..

It was hard for Harry to keep track of his studies though. Sometimes there didn't seem much point to finishing homework or turning up at practice. Some days, getting out of bed seemed like a Herculean effort. He was so tired all the time.

Part of that was very likely that Harry didn't sleep more than an hour or two at a time. Often he didn't know what his dreams had been about, he just woke feeling as though a dreadful weight was pressing down on him. Some dreams had him following someone—he was never sure who—but never quite catching up with them; they would be leaving a room just as he was entering it.

Occasionally, he had terribly vivid dreams of Uncle Vernon or Aunt Petunia that drove him out of his bed, to the relative safety of the common room, where he'd attempt to get an hour or two of sleep on one of the well worn couches before breakfast.

It was well into October when Hedwig dropped him a note during breakfast.

Mr. Potter,

Madam Pomfrey is expecting you this afternoon after class. She will check your weight and I have asked her to give you a quick exam to ascertain that your old injuries have healed properly.

Assuming you have gained sufficient weight, I think that it is reasonable to discontinue the appetite stimulant, but please do not miss any meals.

Professor Snape

Madam Pomfrey behaved fairly normally when Harry turned up in the hospital wing after classes that evening. Her manner toward him hadn't changed; she asked her questions in the same professional tone she'd always used. Harry relaxed, reassured by her no-nonsense demeanor.

In the weeks since Snape did his exam, Harry had gained almost a stone according to Madam Pomfrey. She smiled when she read the numbers. "Professor Snape's potion always seems to do the trick in these cases," she said.

Harry nodded, "So I can keep playing Quidditch?" he asked, a little anxiously.

The medi-witch sighed, "If you must.".

"Now, be still for a moment more," she said, running her wand over him.

At least she hadn't asked him to undress. As it was, it was far too reminiscent of the exam that had started the whole thing.

"May I see your hand?" she asked suddenly.

"My hand?"

"The right one," she replied, glancing at a bit of parchment.

He held it out. He'd noticed that sometimes it ached when it rained and when he wrote long essays.

Madam Pomfrey directed her wand at it. A reddish glow surrounded Harry's knuckles. She made a low noise in her throat. "You've got some arthritis in these joints. Do they get swollen?"

Harry shrugged. "Sometimes...I guess. But, how can I have arthritis? I thought only old people got that."

"It's the type one gets from wear and tear. Those joints and bones were crushed. They healed, but not as well as they should have, so you have inflammation." She looked at him sharply. "Was it ever set?"

"Set?" asked Harry.

That seemed to be answer enough for her. She made another one of those irritated sounds. "The best I can do is vanish the bones and regrow them—properly this time."

Harry shuddered. "Do we have to do it tonight?" He'd had to regrow bones last year when Lockhart vanished his arm bones (now he sort of wished Lockhart had done his hand too), and it was a very unpleasant thing.

Madam Pomfrey sighed. "No, not tonight. I'd like you to have some time in the morning to sleep, so it's best we do it on a Friday or Saturday evening." She waved her wand and summoned a large book, which thumped itself open on the table beside her. She leafed through pages marked October. "Yes, next Saturday will be fine. Come up after your dinner. You'll likely want to bring something to read."

Harry nodded. "Yes, Madam Pomfrey." He glanced out the window; it was still light enough that he could go feed Snuffles, if she let him go now. "Can I go, Madam? I-er-had some extra homework I wanted to get to."

"Hmm?" she asked absently as she wrote something on a bit of parchment. "Oh, yes, of course, dear."

Harry didn't need telling twice. He hurried down to the grounds where the sun was still a little above the horizon.

"Hey, boy," he said to Snuffles who was waiting patiently by "their" rock.

The dog wagged his tail and nuzzled to be pet. Harry pulled out the sausages he'd taken from the table at breakfast, feeding them one by one to the dog. Harry was pleased to see that the dog had put on some weight, too.

The afternoon was fine, with the October sunset making the red, orange, and yellow leaves left on the trees flare beautifully. Harry sat down against the sun warmed rock, wrapping his cloak securely around him. This was a much better one than his old cloak; Snape had insisted on this particular one at the shop, complaining that his old cloak was an invitation to hypothermia. Snape was a puzzle that Harry still couldn't get his head around.

The big black dog lay with his head on Harry's outstretched legs. Harry rested his hand on the dog, thinking that he needed to go back soon. But it was nice to sit here for a few minutes.

It was full dark the next time Harry opened his eyes. He wasn't sure what had woken him, and all he wanted to do was drop back off, but his bed seemed awfully hard for some reason. It took him a moment figure out where he was. He could see the almost-full moon on the horizon. Snuffles was gone and Harry could hear the wind through the trees of the Forbidden Forest. Oh, Merlin, what time was it?

Harry scrambled to his feet, cold and stiff. He fumbled in his pocket for his wand, lighting it so he could see his watch; it was past midnight.

McGonagall was going to go mad. She'd been most adamant since her return that students be in the common room by curfew. And Snape was likely to make good on his threat to ban Harry from Quidditch. God only knew what else he might do; for all that he swore he wasn't going to raise a hand to Harry.

Perhaps no one had noticed he was gone. As if that was bloody likely.

Harry sighed; there was nothing for it. He shook the leaves off his cloak, stretched, and headed back to the castle entrance, hoping Filch had forgotten to lock the doors tonight. He doubted he'd be so lucky.

Halfway back, as Harry passed the greenhouses, he saw the end of someone's lit wand. He really hoped they weren't looking for him.

"Potter!" hissed Snape's angry voice out of the darkness.

Harry froze, his stomach feeling as though it had shattered into pieces.

"Where the devil have you been, boy?" the tall man demanded, closing the distance between them in three long strides.

Instinctively, Harry threw up his hand to protect his face. This was far too much like Uncle Vernon in one of his rages. "Please, I just fell asleep and..."

"You fell asleep?"Snape grabbed Harry's shoulder, his eyes sweeping up and down to check Harry over as though he were looking for injuries. "Are you mad? I was just about to ask the Aurors to look for you." Snape's black eyes were furious. He gave Harry a little shake. "What the hell were you..."

Harry never got to hear what Snape's question was. A black furry mass jumped past Harry and tore Snape's hand from Harry's shoulder. Snape's wand light appeared on the ground as Snuffles slammed the adult wizard's body down with a dull thud.

Harry hastily lit his own wand. Snuffles had one paw on Snape's chest and one paw on the man's wand hand. Snape was struggling and cursing, holding the great dog's jaw away from his throat with his free hand.

"Snuffles!" cried Harry. "Stop! Off! Down!" Oh, he was going to be in so much trouble! Harry grabbed the animal around the neck and frantically tried to pull him off of the professor. "Snuffles! Off!"

"Potter! What the hell are you doing? Get away before the damned thing eats you!" shouted Snape, trying to wrestle his wand arm out from underneath the dog's paw.

"Snuffles! No! Bad dog!" Harry shouted in the dog's ear as he tried, fruitlessly, to drag the dog away from his guardian. "Bloody dog! You're making it worse!"

The dog backed off with a sudden whine. He turned to Harry, gave him a lick on the cheek, then turned to growl again at Snape who lay still on the ground, breathing hard.

Snape asked in his deadliest voice: "Do you know this animal?" Slowly, he moved to stand up, taking care to keep his wand between himself and the dog.

Snuffles kept his body between Harry and Snape, his hackles up, growling low in his throat.

Harry tried to haul him back a bit, with his arms still around the dog's neck. "Yes, sir," he said breathlessly. "He's never acted like this before. I think he must be someone's familiar." Harry suddenly had a horrified memory of hearing a news story of a dog that had to be put down for attacking someone. At the time he'd wished that would happen to Marge's dog Ripper, but no one cared if a dog attacked someone like him. No one would care about a dog attacking Harry, but a dog attacking Snape …

"Please, sir," said Harry, not even caring about the begging tone of voice or the fact that tears had started to spill down his cheeks. It was dark, and anyway, Harry couldn't see how he could get into much worse trouble with Snape. "I've been feeding him and I guess he's gotten fond of me or something. He probably thought he was helping me. I know he's probably a wizard's familiar. We can find out who's and send him back there. He just...he didn't know who you were. He's not dangerous...we can take him to Hagrid's. Please, please...don't…" Harry wasn't even sure what he was asking for.

"Potter, calm down," said the potion's master in a strange, almost gentle, voice. "I won't hurt the dog."

Harry wanted to ask the man to promise, but quelled the childish impulse. Harry knew how much weight promises made to him carried. "Yes, sir," he said dully.

The dog stopped growling and leaned into Harry's leg, pushing his head into Harry's hand.

"Clearly the dog is someone's familiar," said Snape slowly, looking very thoughtful in the wand light. So quickly Harry didn't have time to blink, Snape pointed his wand and said: "Abduco Canis."

A collar and lead appeared on Snuffles.

"Do you think you can manage to walk that monster up to the castle?" Snape asked coldly. "Or should I stun it?"

Harry picked up the lead, hoping he wasn't leading Snuffles to an execution. "No, sir. I have him," he said meekly.