Harry sat at the edge of his bed. He was very confused and felt sick to his stomach. He was finally alone in the house as Uncle Vernon had locked him in his room whilst he took his family to the cinema. His uncle had won three free tickets from a radio contest he did not remember entering. Harry had thought that the three tickets were odd. Not odd numerically… but odd strange.

It was not the odd number of cinema tickets that had confused Harry, nor was it the fact that the Dursley's had once again ignored his birthday that had given him the collywobbles. But rather, it was the very disturbing conversation that he had with Aunt Petunia that morning.

The gift Harry received from his long dead mother had been plaguing him since it arrived. He had read the attached letter over and over every chance he could. As mysterious as the letter was, Harry had come to one undeniable conclusion…his mother had known Snape, and apparently she had known him quite well.

Harry found it puzzling that Snape had never mentioned his mum. As far as Harry had been aware, Snape hadn't known her. His snide professor never passed up a chance to hurl insults at the memory of Harry's father, but Snape had never once spoke of his mum...not once.

Harry's mum told him to find Snape, but Harry had no idea where the man spent his summers. Harry couldn't find the great bat if he wanted to. For all Harry knew, Snape spent his summer in some coffin in Transylvania. He had conceded to himself that he would have to wait until the beginning of term to confront the professor, but Harry really wished he could find out now. The not knowing was intolerable. He felt like he would die before he even had a chance to return to Hogwarts if he didn't find out how his mum knew Snape. How much more pear-shaped could his life get? He actually wanted to talk to Snape?

Harry thought perhaps he could ask the Headmaster. He was bound to see the old wizard at the mysterious 'Headquarters.' Surely the Headmaster would know about Snape and his mum if they attended school together, but would the Headmaster tell Harry anything, or at least anything of importance? Harry doubted he would get much out of the old man.

Who else would have known Mum back then? Harry pondered. Then it struck him like a lightning bolt. "Aunt Petunia!" he nearly shouted as he bolted up from his bed. The sound of his own voice cutting through the silence startled him.

Harry wasn't sure when the sisters stopped talking, but he was quite certain that his parents and the professor attended Hogwarts at the same time. Like most everyone else, his mum would have been living at home during the summers at the time, with Aunt Petunia! If Mum went to school with Snape, she might have mentioned him to Aunt Petunia!

Harry decided to ask Aunt Petunia after Uncle Vernon had left for work and before he left for wherever it was Dumbledore would take him. It may be his only chance for any real answers that summer.

Harry was just finishing up the breakfast dishes when he heard Aunt Petunia kiss Vernon goodbye as he left for work. Dudley had already left to meet up with his friends, so Harry finally had a chance to be alone with his aunt for a while. Now was the time to ask before he lost his nerve.

When Aunt Petunia went into the sitting room to watch her morning programs, Harry put down his dish towel sucked in his breath and gathered his Gryffindor courage. He cautiously walked into the sitting room and stood beside the chair where she sat watching her afternoon dramas.

She seemed to ignore him as he stood there waiting, and Harry finally had to grab her attention with a hesitant cough.

His aunt glared up and snapped at him in her customary manner. "What do you want, Boy!"

Harry held his hands behind his back and shuffled his nervously from foot to foot. He inhaled deeply, and then took the plunge. It was now or never.

"Aunt Petunia, may I ask you a question…about my mother?"

The waspish glare she had favoured him with melted as her eyes widened with unwelcome surprise.

Harry felt uncomfortable as his Aunt Petunia continued to stare blankly at him. Was she wondering how to answer him? He had not asked about Mum in years. Her standard answer was to lie so he would not know the truth about his freakishness and then clout him over the head for his impertinence.

But Harry already knew about his parents. There was nothing more to hide there, or so he thought. But would she want to tell him anything? Harry could almost see her mind was thinking on it.

At that moment, to Harry's amazement, he saw her chilly regard for him melt away just a slight bit. Was she going to answer his question after all? Perhaps she was thinking of this as a birthday present.

"What do you want to know?" she said with as much civility as she could muster, which honestly wasn't all that much. Harry noticed that she did not ask him to sit.

Harry was surprised at her unexpected compliance and quickly asked his question before she could change her mind.

"Did my mother ever mention someone named Severus Snape?"

Aunt Petunia's face had a look of stunned recognition when Harry mentioned his Potion Master's name.

"Severus. How do you know of Severus?" she whispered as her eyes darted about the room, as if the walls might hear a dirty little secret.

Harry blinked dumbly at her before he finally found his voice again. "He…He's one of my professors at school," was all he could think to say.

Aunt Petunia looked like she was about to asked Harry a question. Perhaps she wondered in what capacity Snape taught, but she would never stoop so low as to ask about other freaks and their freakish ways.

"You know him?" Harry finally managed to ask.

"Of course I knew him," she hissed. "He lived only two streets over from us. He and my sister were thick as thieves when we were young." It did not escape Harry that his aunt still could not bring herself to say his mum's name.

They had grown up together? Harry found that just plain…weird. He couldn't wrap his brain around the notion that either Aunt Petunia or Snape were once little kids. But even they had to have been little at some time…right?

Harry plopped down on the couch without asking. He felt like the wind had been knocked out of him. He had to know more, so he tentatively asked, "Can you tell me anything else about them?"

"I can tell you plenty about them, but I don't think you want to hear it."

Harry audibly gulped as he tried to catch some air. "Yes I do, please...Please tell me." It was all Harry could do to keep from begging his aunt.

Aunt Petunia looked like she was considering Harry's request. Harry wondered if he was going to regret hearing what she had to say as Aunt Petunia flashed a nasty little smirk before she replied.

"They were engaged to be married for a short time, a couple of years after they left that school. I don't know what happened, but she had left Severus for your father only a week before the wedding. After you showed up on my doorstep, the reason was apparent. I never met your father, but my sister had once sent me a photograph of the two of them together. The resemblance was unmistakable. You were born only eight months after she dumped Severus."

Harry's face turned green. His mind went numb. He felt like he had been hit by a Bludger.

"Thank you," was all he could manage to whisper to his aunt. He stiffly arose and went to his room. He needed to be alone. Aunt Petunia simply nodded triumphantly and returned her attention to her television program.

Now Harry sat on the edge of his bed. He had been bombarded by so many emotions; he didn't quite know how to feel.

His mum had cheated on Snape.

His mum…and Professor Snape?

Harry couldn't focus as he tried to ruminate on the consequences and highly disturbing scenarios of his mum actually kissing Professor Snape clouded his vision.

Damn, what did she see in the snarky git in the first place?

Harry was startled out of his contemplations when a resounding crash came from the kitchen downstairs.

What the hell was that!

Harry sprang to his feet as he grabbed his wand from off his nightstand. It was too early for the Dursleys to be back. He turned and pointed his wand at the bedroom door. His heart raced as he anticipated what was to come next. Had the Death Eaters finally found him?

"Ouch," cried a female voice too young to be Aunt Petunia.

"Watch where you're going, Nymphadora!"

Professor Moody? Harry was confused. He recognised the voice but had never met the real Mad-Eye Moody. What was he doing here?

"Will you both be quiet? Harry's upstairs."

Harry gave a sigh of relief and lowered his wand. He recognised the voice of someone he trusted. Professor Lupin. The mysterious Order was there for him. Harry gave a quick glace around his room to make sure he had gathered everything of importance.

"Which room Lupin?"

"This one… on the left."

"What's with all the locks?"

"Stand Back!"

Harry heard five loud 'thuds' as the locks that were previously on his door clunked to the floor.

He stood facing his bedroom door as it sprang open. What could only be described as a phalanx wall of wizards greeted him, wands drawn and all trying to crowd into his room at once. They looked around Harry's room as if they were expecting Death Eaters to pop out from behind the draperies.

At point, was Professor Lupin. His wand was still drawn and his eyes changed from delight to concern as he saw Harry. Harry didn't think to do anything about his still bruised eye.

On either side of Professor Lupin stood Professor Moody and a young witch with pink hair that Harry did not recognise. Behind them, there were at least a half dozen other witches and wizards. Harry didn't know any of them. He could also hear at least two more downstairs.

"Harry…what happened to your face?" was the greeting he received from Remus.

Harry had to think quickly. "Err…I stepped on a rake out in the garden. Stupid thing really."

Harry grimaced because he knew it sounded a little less than convincing.

"Right," Remus sounded as if he knew better. But this was neither the time nor place for that discussion. "Do you have your things together?"

"Yeah… but my trunk and broom are in my cupboard under the stairs."

"Tonks!" barked Moody. "Go get Potter's things and bring him his broom!"

The witch with the pink hair turned and left without question. It was obvious that she was used to taking and carrying out orders. She tripped over her feet as she tried to break through the wall of humanity that filled the room behind her.

"Release Hedwig, Harry," Remus told him. "She will find you easy enough and it will be too awkward to carry her on your broom."

Harry opened his solitary window and released his owl through the iron prison-like bars. He took a moment to himself to watch her freely escape through the sky.

"We're flying then?" he looked over his shoulder as a tall dark wizard shrunk his bags and pocketed them for the journey.

"Yes…to London. We will be under a Disillusionment Charm the entire way." The real Moody gruffly informed him. He then turned around and started barking nondescript orders to the others.

Harry did not care for all of the 'whys'…he was going to fly. He had always wanted to fly about the countryside. He had never flown outside of Hogwarts' grounds.

He was going to fly, and for a short time, he could forget everything, Voldemort, Cedric, his mother and Snape. Harry could hardly wait for that sweet release that only came when he was on his broom.

Harry stepped through the doors at Number Twelve Grimmauld Place. His hair was windswept and his face flushed pink as he looked back behind him with a look of awe of on his face.

"That was the most incredible thing I've ever seen," he exclaimed. The house had just expanded out of nowhere and pushed away the homes of the Muggle neighbours.

"You're still young," Remus chuckled and slapped Harry on the back, then pushed him further into the house.

Harry was standing in a long dark entry hall, and a chill ran down his spine. But before he could fully take in his surroundings, what must have been a rather large heard of hippogriffs came bounding down the stairs at the far end of the hallway.

"HARRY!" several familiar voices cried out in unison.

Nope…No hippogriffs. It was just his friends.

Hermione thrust herself upon him, practically knocking the breath out of him. Ron tried to pull her off so that his best mate could breathe. Fred and George popped out of nowhere and Ginny just stood in the background smiling brightly at him. The elder Weasley's were trying to make their way through the throng for their chance to greet Harry.

Too many questions began to fly at him at once. Harry suddenly felt claustrophobic and wanted to get away. He was given a reprieve when he looked up and saw Sirius at the foot of the stairs.

"Give my godson a chance to catch his breath, would you."

The crowd parted so Harry could make his way to his godfather. Sirius opened his arms in welcome and Harry ran over and threw himself into the welcome embrace. He was glad to see his godfather, but he was even more grateful for the man's intervention.

Sirius took Harry's chin and looked over his face. "How did this happen?" the concern in his voice was evident.

Harry shrugged, "Garden rake." He sounded more convincing now that he had already told the lie once.

"You've got to be more careful," Sirius said, fully accepting Harry's explanation. "Things are dangerous enough around here with Tonks tripping all over everything," he added good-naturedly as he winked.

Harry nodded simply nodded and quickly changed from the uncomfortable subject, "Where can I unpack?" He needed to get away from the awkward questions and scrutiny.

"You'll be bunking with me mate…Second Floor," Ron said happily. It was apparent to Harry that Ron was expecting late night that included Exploding Snap and a pile of chocolate frogs, but sadly, Harry knew his best mate would be sorely dissapointed. "Tonks has already brought up your trunk and bag, Harry. I'll help you unpack."

Ron started to lead the way upstairs when Harry said, "It's alright, mate. I can do it myself."

Harry was polite enough, but Ron's face looked slightly crestfallen. "That's okay. Whatever you want, mate. It's the first door on the right. Just be quiet so you don't wake up Mrs Black."

Was Sirius' mum still alive? Harry was too exhausted to care or ask. He simply nodded and quietly ascended the stairs-his godfather and friends watching him with looks of concern as he did so.

Harry lay atop the covers of his bed, his arms folded under his head. He stared blankly at the ceiling and tried not to think about anything. He had finished unpacking long ago. The food Mrs Weasley had sent up was still on the tray. He was trying to avoid going back downstairs where he would once again be bombarded by questions he did not want to answer. He was hoping that he did not have to stay here long.

Ironically, Harry wished he could be anywhere but here. He would not mind a visit with his godfather if so many bloody people weren't about. That… and the place was just so damn dark. And it wasn't just from the heavy drapes that obscured almost any hint of sunlight. The house had an all-together dark aura about and frankly…Harry just found the whole damn place to be creepy. What was up with all the house-elf heads mounted on the walls? This place was much too dark...too morbid and it made Harry's skin prickle. Harry didn't like it...at all. He wondered how Sirius could stand it here.

Harry decided that he would begin on his homework tomorrow. That would be excuse enough to keep to himself for the majority of the hols. Sure- he didn't think that he would actually return to Hogwarts after the trial, but it was as good an excuse as any to avoid people. Except maybe Hermione. He might have to come up with another excuse to keep her at bay.

It was just then Ron came in the room and broke the silence.

"Still up mate?" he asked, obviously in hope of talking with Harry.

"Actually…I was just about to get ready for bed," Harry lied as he absentmindedly scratched his scalp. It was itching a little.

"Oh," Ron said quietly, as if knowing he was being rebuffed again.

They took turns at the shower and readied themselves for bed. Harry was just settling himself in as the lights went out.

He found his thoughts racing once again and found it difficult to fall asleep straight away. Try though he might, he could not turn his thoughts away from his mum and Snape.

His mother had cheated with his father whilst she was engaged to Snape. How was that for a kick in the bollocks? Harry supposed that he was a constant reminder of that betrayal to his Potion's Master. James Potter's face coupled with Lily's eyes...

If I were the man, I'd hate me too, Harry grudgingly bemoaned to himself.

Then Harry panicked as he thought of something else. If he was expelled, how was he supposed to contact Professor Snape? Granted…Harry didn't think it was necessary for the man to be there when Dumbledore told him about the mysterious phial, but it was important enough for his mother to ask for Snape's presence from beyond the grave. Harry wasn't sure why, but he felt that Snape needed to be there. He decided that he would ask the Headmaster to arrange for he and his professor to meet.

Harry was thinking about his mother and Snape when he started to drift into sleep. His last thought was that if things had been different, Snape could have been his father. His body gave an involuntary shudder.

"Snape!" Harry screamed as he shot straight up out of his sleep. He slapped his and to his forehead in an effort to supress the burning in his scar burning scar. Harry gasped as he struggled to take in a full breath and he was soaked in cold sweat.

Ron was stood at the edge of Harry's bed, with a look of worry plastered across his face for his best friend. "You okay, mate? You were thrashing about so hard, I thought you were going to throw yourself out of bed."

Ron looked unconvinced when Harry said, "Yeah, just a nightmare."

"Well if you were dreaming about the Greasy Git…no wonder you had a nightmare."

"How do you know I was dreaming about Snape?" Harry couldn't remember the details of the nightmare, but it did involve Snape and a secret meeting with Voldemort…something about Blood Potions.

Harry decided not to dwell on it and he was just too exhausted anyway. It was only natural that he had been dreaming about Snape, wasn't it? After all, he was just thinking about the man before he fell asleep. Well, as for Snake Face…he was always having nightmares about that wanker, especially since his return. Harry's scar was only burning because the nightmare involved Voldemort. He knew it was only a nightmare, but it had been very unsettling nonetheless.

"You yelled his name right before you woke up," his friend told him. "Are you sure you're alright? Do you want me to get Sirius?"

"No, I'm fine," Harry said in half-truth. "Let's just go back to sleep."

Ron nodded as he yawned and wiped his hand down the length of his face, then padded his way back over to his own bed.

Harry settled himself back under his covers and turned over. He was soon asleep again.

Come morning, Harry and Ron were rudely awakened by Ginny. Or rather, Ron was rudely awakened by Ginny. Harry just happened to be unfortunate enough to be sleeping in the same room.

"Ron…Ron…RONALD!"

Much like Harry the night before, Ron bolted straight up out of a deep sleep. "Huh…whazit?"

Harry shook himself out of his slumber, sat up and reached for his glasses. "Morning Ginny," he said through a half-stifled yawn.

Her auburn hair flipped over her shoulder as she turned her head back to Harry. "Good Morning, Harry. Sorry to wake you," she said cheerfully before she returned her attention to her lie-a-bed brother. "Stop being such a dosser, Ron. It's your day to help Mum with breakfast."

Harry got up out of bed and looked for some clean clothes in his trunk. He heard Ron grumble, "Ginny, kiss my…"

"Excuse me!" Harry quickly interjected. He made a bolt for the bathroom before the inevitable fireworks would begin.

As Harry finished his morning ablutions, he noticed that his once purple eye was now turning a lovely shade of chartreuse. He breathed a sigh of relief when he realised he could almost fully open it again.

He lifted up the fringe off of his forehead and looked at his scar. It no longer burned and looked quite normal…if a lightning bolt etched into one's forehead could look normal. But Harry was willing to wager every Galleon he had that the damn thing was as red as Fiendfyre the night before. It sure as hell burned like it.

Not wanting to dwell on the night before, Harry started combing his hair when he noticed something strange. His hair was behaving. Usually he just ran the comb through it to remove the rat's nests. It had always seemed as though he had an obstinate Pigmy Puff stuck to his head.

Now looking at himself in the mirror, Harry realised that he had managed to part his hair.

"How did I manage that?" His puzzled look soon turned to one of satisfaction when he decided that it looked good on him. He gave himself a nod to the mirror as if to say he was satisfied, and went down to join the others for breakfast. He really didn't want to join the crowd, but there was no avoiding Sirius and Mrs Weasley forever.

As it was at the Burrow, breakfast at Number Twelve was a raucous affair. No doubt because of the passel of Weasley's.

Sirius was seated at the head of the table and Mr Weasley at the opposite end. Remus was once again seated at the immediate left of Sirius. The seat to Sirius's right was empty, waiting for Harry to fill it.

Mrs Weasley was levitating breakfast to the table and a disgruntled Ron was over at the sink scrubbing pots and pans the Muggle way.

"Harry dear, take a seat and have a tucker," Mrs Weasley offered cheerfully.

Harry came around the table and sat in the empty seat next to Sirius. Sirius reached over and patted him on the shoulder. The conversation was innocuous enough, but everybody sounded nervous.

"Honestly, Harry, do those Muggle relatives ever feed you?" clucked Mrs Weasley as she put a healthy potion of eggs and some kippers on Harry's plate. "Every time I see you come from there you're as thin as a Cornish Pixy."

"They feed me enough Mrs Weasley," Harry lied easily as he tucked into his scrambled eggs. "I haven't had much of an appetite lately." That part had been true enough.

Mr Weasley chimed in, but his eyes never met Harry's. "That will change after a couple days of Molly's cooking."

"Harry dear, come see me after breakfast and I'll put some Bruise Healing Paste over that eye," Mrs Weasley offered. "You'll be right as rain in no time."

Harry unconsciously moving his hand towards his offending eye and mumbled a hasty, "Thank you."

"Hey, Harry. What didya –"
"…do with your hair," piped the twins.

"Your hair does look nice today," Hermione complemented.

Before Harry could answer, Sirius took over the conversation, "So Harry, what would you like to do today." He sounded anxious to spend some time with Harry. Harry felt a bit guilty putting him off, but Harry really wouldn't make good company anyway.

"Well," Harry swallowed, "I need to get started on my homework. I'm behind because all of my books had been locked away." Harry turned his attention to his food, because he couldn't stand to look at his godfather's crestfallen face.

Harry wanted to get to know Sirius every bit as much as Sirius seemed to want to get to know him. It had been months since he saw his godfather in the flesh, and then it had only been fleeting. Their relationship had mostly consisted of letters and Floo calls. Harry didn't think that had hardly been fair, but he wasn't ready to deal with a heart-to-heart with Sirius today.

"Well, there is an excellent study on the first floor across from the drawing room," Sirius said as he winked, obviously shaking himself out of his own disappointment. "I'd be happy to help you, though Remus was the better scholar out of us lot."

"Of course, I'd be willing to help any of the children with their homework," Remus offered.

Harry remained quiet and only half listened to the bustle that was going on around him. Every now and again one of the adults would flash him a look as if they pitied him. Did they know something he didn't? Harry desperately wished he could get away.

As Harry looked over his homework assignments, he lamented that he did not manage to steal his books out of his cupboard sooner.

Professors McGonagall and Flitwick's assignments were straight forward enough and the research was available amongst Sirius' books. McGonagall's essay was on the origins and uses of Vanishing Spells. Professor Flitwick's asked them to identify and differentiate at least three Silencing Charms. Snape's assignment, well…that was a monster.

The thing was, if Harry had known he would have had a great head start with all the gardening he had been doing that summer

Ironically, Snape's little summer project was also the most interesting. They were supposed to collect five mundane plants with hidden magical properties over the summer. They could not purchase them from an apothecary or a Muggle garden store.

Then, they were to write their essays about the uses of these plants in potions. The students needed also to properly preserve their plants. They would be using them to brew three potions of their choice during the term. A list of their plants and proposal for potions projects were to be presented to Snape by their first class for his final approval.

Harry sighed. Even if he did return to Hogwarts, Snape would probably sabotage his project anyway.

It was also ironic that if Snape had treated Harry fairly, Potions would have been Harry's favourite class. Science was always Harry's favourite class in Muggle primary school. He was looking forward to taking chemistry once he started his secondary education. Snape had pissed any chance at that on Harry's very first day.

Snape knew I was Muggle raised. How was I supposed to know the difference between Monkshood and Wolfsbane?

Harry started flipping through his book for ideas wondering how he was going to collect his plants. He decided that daises would be one of his plants. They grew everywhere and would be easy enough to find if he could only get out. He began to read about how to preserve them.

The most effective way to unlock the dormant magical properties of Daises is to link them together, stem through stem, and allow them to dehydrate in a hot, dry environment for one week.

Harry chuckled, "Daisy chains?"

He grinned with amusement at the thought of presenting his dour professor with a daisy chain. Then… then he began to imagine his Potion's Master sitting cross-legged in a field of wildflowers… linking his own daisy chains. He was laughing a belly buster now when a final image hit him. Snape was now wearing his daisy chain like a halo atop his greasy, black head.

That was it.

Harry fell out of his chair and was now rolling on the floor in a full blown laughing jag.

Harry was sobered quickly when the amused voice of the Headmaster interrupted him, "Would you care to let an old man in on the joke?"

Albus Dumbledore stood at the door wearing outlandish purple robes with red trim.

"I haven't heard a good joke in a long time," Dumbledore's eyes twinkled merrily at the sight of Harry in such a jovial mood.

Harry picked himself up off the floor and tried to collect his composure.

"Sorry Sir."

The Headmaster waived off Harry's apology and smiled, "No need to apologise, my boy. It does this old heart good to see a young man enjoying an honest laugh at the expense of one of his elders.

How did he kn…?

"But in all seriousness, Harry, I have some important things I need to discuss with you," Dumbledore said soberly. He gestured Harry to one of the armchairs in front of the window and the Headmaster took the chair across from him.

"Yes, Sir?" Harry asked, giving the Headmaster his full attention. Harry immediately regretted eating breakfast, as his stomach flipped a half-gainer. This did not sound good.

As always, Dumbledore started in, tact-be-damned. "With the Voldemort's return the issue of your safety has become a paramount concern."

Harry tried to remain focused on the Headmaster. He was trying to keep the unwanted images of the graveyard from invading his thoughts.

"Is that why I'm staying here this summer, Sir?"

"You will not be staying here this summer, Harry," Dumbledore said earnestly. "It is not only your physical wellbeing I am concerned with, but you also may be under threat of a mental invasion."

A hard lump formed in Harry's throat and he audibly gulped. "You mean that Voldemort may try to possess me?" The mere thought of such a thing was more disturbing than Harry's mind could articulate.

"No, not possession, Harry, but a mind invasion would be disturbing and dangerous nonetheless," said the Headmaster. "Therefore, you will be residing at Hogwarts this summer."

Harry was actually relieved to hear this. The halls of the old castle would be deserted and he wouldn't have to face the uncomfortable questions and looks from everyone. But he was still curious as to why he wasn't staying at Grimmauld Place.

"Why Hogwarts, Sir? Why not just stay here?"

Maybe he shouldn't have asked that. Maybe the Headmaster would think that Harry wanted to stay here and change his mind.

"The flow of people in and out, not to mention the Dark Magic that still resides in this house is not conducive to the Mind Arts you must learn, Harry."

"When will you start teaching me, Sir?" Harry did want to leave as soon as he could.

"You leave Friday. And I will not be the one teaching you. You will be taught by someone who is more masterful at the art than I."

Harry had to take that in. A more powerful wizard than the Headmaster? Harry didn't think that such a person existed.

He was awestruck. Harry's voice wavered, wondering if he could possibly live up to the expectations of this apparently nigh-omnipotent Magus. "Who...who will be teaching me Headmaster?"

"Professor Snape."

The look on Harry's face went from awestruck to gob-smacked in the course of a breath. "Come again, Headmaster?"