Harry stabbed at his breakfast, wondering how he was going to get Malfoy, or any other of the Death Eater children, alone long enough to tell them what was going on, much less get someone to actually believe him.

"Mr Potter…Mr Potter… MR SNAPE!"

Harry snapped out of his ruminations to look up at the pinched face of his Head of House. "Sorry, Professor McGonagall," he said contritely.

"That's quite alright, Mr Po…Snape. Yesterday was particularly taxing on us all," McGonagall said, handing Harry his timetable. "But please, do try to become a little more coherent before your first class starts." Harry refrained from rolling his eyes when she gave him a condescending pat on the shoulder, and then continued to pass out timetables to the rest of the Gryffindors.

Ron mournfully looked over his timetable and then stuffed his mouth with a forkful of scrambled eggs. "I think we may have trouble staying awake in our first class, Harry," he said after nearly swallowing his food whole.

Harry looked at his timetable and groaned, "History of Magic first thing in the morning—that's cruel and unusual punishment."

"Not so cruel or unusual should you be caught slacking off in any classes this year, Harry," Hermione reminded him. "You've got to remember, you have a parent to answer to now—and a Hogwarts professor, no less."

The previous day's mortification notwithstanding, five years of experience had made Harry acutely aware that if there was anybody who knew how to dole out a cruel and unusual punishment, it was Severus Snape.

And Hermione was right. In his past four years at Hogwarts, Harry hadn't really been accountable to anyone. The Dursleys never gave a flip about Harry's marks or behaviour at school, as long as he didn't outperform Dudley. Harry was sure that Aunt Petunia was sent an owl every time Harry had been to the hospital, but she never cared enough to ask if Harry was okay.

For all intents and purposes, Harry had been an emancipated minor in the wizarding world. The idea of having to really answer to an adult while he was at school was one he was quickly going to have to get used to. Not to mention his dad was a professor, ranked right up there with McGonagall for being one of the strictest in living memory.

Something told Harry that, for all of his dad's talk about the advantages of being the Potions Master's son, his dad was not about to put up with poor marks and rule breaking.

"My grades haven't really been all that bad," said Harry, trying to convince himself. "The only classes I've ever had less than an Acceptable in are History and Divination, and those don't count…do they?"

"Of course not."

"Of course they do," Ron and Hermione chimed at once. Hermione glared at Ron and knuckle punched him in the shoulder.

"Ow! What the bloody hell was that for," Ron cried as he rubbed his sore arm. Harry thought the punch looked hard enough for Hermione to have left a bruise.

"If you want to get Harry in trouble with Professor Snape you just keep giving him advice, Ronald," Hermione ranted. "Of course the professor is going to care about all of Harry's marks."

Harry knew Hermione was right, but he was more concerned about making contact with Draco Malfoy than worrying about his History of Magic scores. He had no intention of taking a History NEWT, anyway.

"Well just make sure you're plenty awake for your dad, mate," Ron said. "We've got Double Potions right after Binns."

Harry sighed. He wasn't sure how his first Potions class as the professor's son was going to turn out. Certainly, Harry was Professor Snape's son, but Harry cringed at the thought that although his dad had said that he would not call him out in front of the rest of the class, he might actually expect more out of Harry.

Would his classmates think that Harry would now benefit from nepotism? His dad had no compunction whatsoever when it came to playing favourites, but being the object of favouritism always made Harry feel uncomfortable, no matter who it was from. Harry already had enough problems without his father alienating his classmates on his behalf.

Harry looked at his timetable. At least he had one break. They had Potions with the Slytherins. That might give him a chance to contact Malfoy either before or after class.

A little shiver went up Harry's spine. His world had turned completely upside down since spring. Was he actually just relieved that he had Potions with the Slytherins?

He looked over at the Slytherin table and watched as his father passed out timetables to his students. Harry did not like the look that some of the older Slytherin students were giving his dad. Their glowers seemed have no effect on their Head of House, though. Severus would just flash his students a look that reminded them that they were mere amateurs.

"Harry, what's the matter?" Hermione asked.

"Oh…It's nothing," Harry stumbled over his words, having been caught off by Hermione's question. "I was just thinking that I might get my chance to contact Malfoy."

"I think she means that you look a little peaky, Harry. But I can understand how the thought of talking to Malfoy would make you want to sick up," Ron said.

Harry had managed to stay awake through his History of Magic lesson. That did not mean, however, that he actually comprehended anything. He sighed as he shoved his books into his rucksack.

Harry thought that during the day's lecture, he might have heard something about dragon massacres in the thirteenth century. But he couldn't remember if it was about people massacring dragons or dragons massacring people. The subject was interesting enough, but Professor Binns' droning voice could put a raging dragon to sleep. Harry figured he would just have to copy Hermione's notes later.

"Come on, Harry," said Ron. "We don't want to be late for Potions."

Harry slung his bag over his shoulder and headed out into the corridor with his best friends beside him.

"Have you figured out how to contact Malfoy yet, Harry?" Hermione asked in a near whisper. The very topic of their conversation was walking alone only a few feet ahead of them. Draco Malfoy was on his way to Potions, too.

"Yeah," Harry answered quietly, "I figure that since he's a Prefect this year, I'd pass him a note in class and ask him to meet me at the Astronomy Tower around ten-thirty. I could use my invis…HEY!"

Just at that moment Gregory Goyle had shoved passed Harry, most likely in an effort to catch up with Draco. Harry's rucksack had flown off his shoulder. Books and parchments scattered across the corridor. Even his quills had managed to fly out of their protective case and were strewn across the stone floor.

Harry was grateful that he had already turned in his preserved plants and potions essays to his father. His daisy chain would have been ruined in the carnage.

Goyle stopped and waved his wand and Summoned Harry's effects back into his rucksack.

"Sorry about that, Potter. I wasn't watching where I was going."

Harry stood in shock as Goyle simply turned and rushed to catch up with Malfoy.

Malfoy must have heard the commotion because he had stopped and watched the exchange between Harry and his friend. He grabbed his Goyle by the forearm. "Watch where you're going, you oaf," Draco snarled at Goyle as his eyes bored into Harry. "You don't want to soil Prince Harry's personage, do you?" He then yanked at Goyle and dragged him out of the corridor and into the classroom.

Harry, Ron and Hermione continued to stare in amazement, as other students began to pass and stare back at them. Harry had been so stunned, he forgot to thank Goyle for picking up his books.

"What do you suppose that was all about?" Hermione asked, still bemused over what had just transpired.

"Since when did that great lump start apologizing for acting like an arse?" Ron asked.

Harry flung his repaired bag over his shoulder and said, "Probably since Dad threatened the Slytherins should they pull any of their usual stunts."

Ron looked at his friend disbelievingly and Hermione smiled as they continued on their way.

Harry and Ron took their usual seats next to each other while Hermione sat next to Neville Longbottom. Most of the students kept glancing at Harry as they talked amongst themselves in hushed whispers—that is, with the exception of Malfoy and Goyle. Goyle just grinned stupidly at Harry whilst Malfoy simply avoided looking at Harry all together.

Harry hoped his classmates weren't going to give him a hard time as they did in his second year when everybody thought he was the Heir of Slytherin. After all, being the Heir of Snape was almost as much of an offence in the eyes of some.

The room went deadly quiet as the classroom door swung open hard and smacked against the stone wall. Professor Snape swept into the class in his customary manner. Once he reached the front of the classroom, he turned sharply and faced his students. His dark eyes scanned every student there. It was enough to make Harry squirm, as it reminded him too much of the old Professor Snape

But still—now that he thought about it, Harry couldn't help but appreciate his father's ease of movement for the first time. He hoped that someday he would inherit his father's grace and commanding presence. The way his dad's robes billowed when he entered a room was entirely too cool.

"As I am sure any of you with half a brain are aware…" Snape began, "you will be sitting your OWLs this spring. Although many of you are too moronic to tell the difference between a toad and a toadstool, I expect every person in this room to scrape by with no less than an Acceptable. He then bored his gaze into Neville's forehead. Neville shifted in his seat uncomfortably. Hermione patted their classmate reassuringly on the arm.

"Those of you, who intend to attempt your NEWT should be aware that I only accept 'Outstanding' students into this level." This time Severus' eyes were fixed on Harry and Harry nearly choked on a too-biiiiiig gulp of air.

"So whether or not you plan upon attempting a NEWT, you would be ill advised to slack off this year. I assure you—you do not wish to suffer the consequences of my displeasure should you embarrass me with your failure." Severus' tone was hushed, but he couldn't have commanded more attention with a Sonorus charm. The air in the room practically vibrated with the collective shudders that came from the students.

"Now," Severus snapped, and every student in the room jumped at the sudden change in volume. "The homework I set for you this summer was intended to demonstrate the type of logic and independent thought that will be required of you to pass your OWLs and move onto the next level. Pass your essays to the end of your rows. When I call you, you will come up and present your ingredients so I can inspect them. If they have not been properly preserved, you may not use them. In such case, you may use ingredients from the school stores, but you will be deducted five points from your score for any ingredient replaced."

Harry gave a sigh of relief at this. If his plants had not been preserved properly, his dad would have let him know before now.

The sound of parchment shuffling filled the room as essays were being passed up the rows. Severus quickly snatched them as they were offered. Dean and Seamus were sitting in Harry's row. Seamus was at the end ready to hand in everybody's work.

"Harry," Dean whispered, "where's your homework?"

"I've already turned it in," Harry tried to say under his breath.

"Silence," Severus warned. "You should know better, Harry."

Harry's face turned red from embarrassment, partly from being called out and partly from Severus being so familiar in class. He simply muttered, "Sorry, Sir."

At least his father hadn't taken points or given him detention as he would have in the past. But Severus' warning and use of Harry's given name had had the desired effect. The entire class had been stunned into silence.

After everyone had turned in their preserved ingredients, the day's lesson had got underway. Harry was practically giddy when he found out they would be brewing a Draught of Peace. Hellebore was one of his mundane plants. He had worked very hard over the summer at practicing this particular potion, and for the first time since that fateful day he stepped into the Potions dungeon, Harry was very much looking forward to his potions lesson. He could almost produce a Draught of Peace with his eyes closed now. Practice, and not having Severus Snape harangue him from over his shoulder, had made all the difference.

Before Harry knew it, he had finished his brewing and time was being called.. Although Ron had been his lab partner, his best friend had done little more than chop and measure ingredients. Harry didn't mind, though, the dynamic had worked out well; time was being called for class to end. It was all Harry and Ron could do to keep from celebrating when Harry's dad had nodded his approval at their finished project.

Before being dismissed, Severus announced that instead of completing three independent projects that term, they would only be required to choose one, but that project would be their final exam, so they had better choose wisely. Harry wondered if he could get away with the Draught of Peace again. He would make certain to ask his dad later. As homework, they would be required to write on the potion they chose, based upon one or more of the plants that they turned in.

Ron crammed his books into his bag while Hermione neatly packed hers away. Harry groaned when he got a good look at the state of his rucksack. Goyle may have collected his things, but he didn't use much care in putting them back together. But honestly, it was more than Harry could have expected from the half-witted Slytherin.

Harry was just getting ready to leave when he noticed his father wave him over.

"We'll just wait for you just outside the door, Harry," Hermione said.

Harry nodded to his friends, and approached his father's desk. Harry wondered what Severus wanted.

"I want you stop by our quarters before curfew tonight."

"Why? Is something wrong?" Harry asked. "I thought my punishment was over with."

"No," his dad said, "I just want to go over your homework."

"Go over my homework! It's only the first day back. What could I give you that you could possibly look over?"

"You only have two days before your Potions homework is due, Harry. I should expect that you would at least have a rough draft prepared tonight."

Actually, Harry had no intention of writing a rough draft. He had fully intended to write his essay the night before it was due, just as he had done every other time.

"Why should I have to do that?" Harry asked crossly. "Nobody else has to submit their homework for their parent's approval."

Severus just gave Harry 'The Look'. Harry remembered his father's rather imaginative punishment from the night before and decided to back off that argument. "You know this could be considered cheating," Harry said.

"A parent looking over their child's homework hardly constitutes cheating, Harry," Severus told him. "Especially since said parent is the one that sets the rules of what is and what is not considered cheating. After all, I will not be giving you answers, only pointing out where your logic may be lacking."

Harry sighed and turned in defeat. He had to admit though— it felt good to have someone call him his 'child'. Harry turned to join his friends when he suddenly remembered about Malfoy.

"Oh, Dad." Severus looked up from where he was arranging his papers. "I almost forgot. I was planning on meeting Malfoy toni…."

Harry cursed out loud because he forgot to pass a note to Malfoy. "Shite!"

"One point from Gryffindor for language, Harry."

"I'm sorry," Harry said in exasperation. "I was going to pass Malfoy a note telling him to meet me atop the Astronomy Tower tonight."

"You were going to pass a note in my classroom?"

Harry wasn't sure if Severus' tone was accusatory or teasing. Either way, felt the need to defend his reasons. "I was only going to tell Malfoy to meet me in the Astronomy Tower."

"Harry, you've been exposed to the wizarding world for over four years. Surely you realise Hogwarts has an Owlery, by now," his father said in exasperation. "There are any number of nondescript owls you can use, and if you hurry, you should have time to send one and still have time for lunch."

Harry smiled at the "Yeah! Great idea. You're brilliant, Dad."

"So I've been told," his dad said with a slight mischievous tone.

Harry was about to leave with his friends when he looked back at his father once again.

"What is it this time, Harry?" This time his father really did sound annoyed.

"Only one point, Dad?"

"Don't worry," his father assured him. "I'll more than make it up with your housemates," he smirked.

On their way to the Great Hall, Harry, Ron and Hermione debated on whether Harry should Owl Malfoy before or after lunch.

Ron of course, wanted to eat first, but Hermione had pointed out that they might not have time to make it up and back from the Owlery should they wait too long. So they compromised. They would drop by the Great Hall, build themselves a sandwich and eat on their way down to the Owlery.

Harry told his friends that he could go alone, but they would hear nothing of it. "Can you imagine the points your dad would take if we were to let you wander the castle alone?" Hermione said.

"I'm going to meet Malfoy alone tonight," Harry pointed out.

"Like hell you are," Ron said adamantly. "I'll stay under your invisibility cloak if you want, but you're going nowhere alone, mate—especially with Malfoy."

Harry smiled to himself inwardly, wondering how he was ever deserving of such loyal friends, then resigned himself to the fact that they weren't letting him out of their sight for a moment. As annoying as it was—it also felt really good.

Once they arrived at the Gryffindor table, the trio attacked the meat and cheese tray and built their sandwiches. Before they left for the Owlery, Harry saw Severus enter the Great Hall through the staff entrance and take his place at the head table.

Anxious to complete their task, even Hermione began to eat her sandwich as they approached the castle doors. Just as they began to descend the stairs to the castle grounds, Harry realised that he had not even bothered to write his note to Malfoy. He sat down on the front steps, garnering quizzical looks from Ron and Hermione.

"I haven't written the letter yet," Harry explained as he passed off his half-eaten ham and Swiss to Ron and asked, "Hold this for a second, would you?"

Ron gave the sandwich a quizzical look. Harry laughed inwardly and said, "And don't eat it."

"I'm not going to eat your bloody sandwich, Harry," Ron answered in mock disgust.

Harry commandeered Hermione's help as well. "Hold this would you?" he asked as he handed her his rucksack. Harry pulled out the first quill he could get his hands on, a blank piece of parchment, and a book to write on.

Harry set the book across his knees and began to write his message, hoping by some miracle that Malfoy would actually show up. He hadn't finished his second sentence when the quill's nib broke off.

"Damn it," Harry exclaimed irritably.

"It must be dull," Hermione said. "Let me get my pen knife and sharpen it for you."

"No, that's alright," Harry said. "I've got others in the bottom of my bag."

Harry reached into his bag, and rummaged for his quill case. He groaned when his fingers brushed across the soft feathers lying loose at the bottom. Harry had all but had forgotten about his run in with Goyle earlier. "I hope they're not broken," Harry said. He did not elaborate, but Ron and Hermione seemed to know what he was referring to.

Harry grew even more irritable when he realised that his quills were pinned under the heavy books. He felt the sharp nib of the first quill he managed to wrap his fingers around and pulled hard. Harry gasped when he felt a sharp stab in the palm of his hand.

"Bloody hell!" Harry exclaimed as he grabbed his hand and applied pressure to his wound in a vain attempt to stop the pain and bleeding.

But then something else was wrong—terribly wrong. Harry began to feel an odd sensation…as if a thousand billywigs were crawling under his skin—and he was thirsty. He had a strong taste of metal and his mouth salivated in a futile effort to be rid of it. He looked up at Ron and Hermione, but his two friends seemed to swim in and out of his vision.

"Harry…Harry are you alright, mate?" Ron asked in a distant, ethereal voice.

Harry could hardly make out Hermione's words. "…doesn't look go…Ron…run…hel…."

Harry wanted to agree, but he couldn't. He frantically grasped at his chest. It felt too tight and he couldn't find enough air to speak. He lost sensation in his legs, and although he could not feel it, Harry sensed that he was collapsing. But someone caught his dead weight, the momentum of which sent them both to the ground.

He was spared panic, for Hermione was in a state enough for the both of them. His last vision was of Hermione's face close to his and her urgent voice begging him, "Harry! Stay with me!"

Harry tried to do as Hermione asked—he really did, but his effort was for naught as he slowly slipped into oblivion.