The room was dark. There were goosebumps running up and down Harry's arms. Something was coming. Harry could just make out a form in the darkness, a dark form, blacker than the room around him. It was coming toward Harry.  

He began backing away, but he sensed a wall behind him. He was running out of space. As the form came closer its shape became more distinct. Harry's breath caught. It was Snape! The professor was sneering at Harry as he advanced on him, backing him into the wall. The Professor was holding his wand in his outstretched arm. It was pointed at Harry's chest. He had no where to go. There was no way out. 

Harry sat bolt upright, his pajamas damp with sweat. The dream was so real. His heart was racing and the dream wasn't slipping from conscious thought like dreams so often do. The image of Snape staring him down with his wand pointed at Harry's chest was still very strongly present in his mind.

“Papa Severus has other uses for you,” was still running through his ears. He doubted he'd ever get that out of his mind. The look Snape had given him when he'd called him “Papa Severus” was actually kind of funny, now that he thought about it. The man had been positively repulsed.

Now that he was wide awake he realized how ridiculous the dream was. He took a few deep breaths and calmed himself. What a stupid dream. Snape was a git but it wasn't as if he was afraid of the professor; not really. Sure, he could be scary as hell, but he wasn't known to go around hexing kids right and left no matter what stupid things they said. Even if he did routinely attack students, Harry wasn't going to take it lying down.  

Well, not once he was able to get up.

"Mr. Potter," Harry jumped at the sound of the mediwitch's voice. She was striding into the room with a no nonsense attitude that he'd come to appreciate over his time at Hogwarts. "Mr. Potter, I'm going to release you this morning. You may leave as soon as you've eaten a decent breakfast."  

As if on cue, a steaming plate of pancakes and bangers appeared on Harry's table. He threw a grateful grin at the mediwitch, then dug in with relish. As always, meals were one of the best things about returning to Hogwarts after time at the Dursleys'. If only Aunt Petunia could cook this way...

Before the mediwitch had gone far, Harry called out to her. "Madame Pomfrey, has anyone left word about where I should go from here, where I'm to be staying?"  

"I am here for just that reason, Mr. Potter." Professor McGonagall was walking in the door. Madam Pomfrey nodded at her and retreated to her office. Harry was so surprised at Professor McGonagall's appearance that he nearly goggled at her. She was wearing a bright, flowered, summery dress with a matching rose colored robe worn open in the front. Even her hair was different. She had really long hair and instead of her normal bun, it was left to hang in a braid down her back. His professors' summer habits were apparently going to continue to hit him like a Bludger every time he met up with one until he got it into his head that they were regular people. They were probably really relieved to be able to dress more casually in the summer when there usually weren't any students around. It was kind of nice that they didn't feel the need to dress so formally around him. "As soon as you're released, I'll be showing you to your rooms."  

"My rooms? Here in the castle? I don't have to go live with Snape?" The relief in Harry's voice was so strong he was afraid he'd offended Professor McGonagall. But no, that wasn't what had made her frown.  

"That's 'Professor Snape,' Harry,” she said. "I realize that the two of you do not get along. However, as you will both be staying here in the castle this summer, I beg you to try for everyone's sake. The consequences of an all out war between you and Severus Snape could be devastating to all innocent parties in your paths."  

Harry blushed. They weren't really all that bad, were they? Did anyone really get along with Snape? Surely not. And the castle was still standing. "Yes Ma'am", Harry replied.  

Just then, Madam Pomfrey came back from her office carrying a pair of crutches. She quickly shot some spells at Harry and declared him fit enough to go to his own quarters as long as he stayed off his bad leg for a few more days. She handed Harry the crutches, then pointed her wand at his leg and incanted an immobilization charm and a cushioning charm.

"Hey!" Harry cried.  

"If you are leaving here with instructions to stay off your leg, then I am going to ensure that those instructions are followed, young man."  

"But I can't walk this way!"  

"You have crutches for that."

Harry sighed. He hadn't expected to be on crutches. How was he going to get around if he had to stumble about on wooden sticks? According to Hermione, there were 142 staircases at Hogwarts. That fact had stuck in his mind for some reason. They sometimes spent an evening in front of the fire with Hermione regaling them with funny and unusual tales about Hogwarts. Maybe someday he'd read “Hogwarts, a History”, himself. Then again, maybe not. That's why they had Hermione.  

"It's only for two days, Mr. Potter. You've had a very bad break on that leg and it was aggravated during your uncle's attack and again during the Portkey travel. If you had been treated magically immediately after the accident, the leg could have been healed within hours. As it was days after the fact, healing will take longer. Magic can heal breaks quickly if they haven't already started healing on their own,” she said, slipping into lecture mode. “When they've tried to heal themselves, your body fights against the potions that attempt to interrupt that process with their own brand of healing."  

Harry nodded. It made sense. He supposed that a Healer of Madam Pomfrey's caliber would know what she was talking about. Magic really was fascinating. He chuckled to himself. He'd bet he'd had that same thought about a dozen times a week every week since he learned magic was real.

Professor McGonagall stepped forward and handed Harry his crutches and a change of clothes. He shrugged off Madam Pomfrey's help and hobbled and wobbled his way to the loo to change. On his way out he managed a bit better.   

McGonagall gathered his belongings in her arms, including his gifts from last night's Guardianship Rites. "These are very fine gifts, Mr. Potter. Professor Snape did not skimp on you."  

Harry was surprised to hear this. He knew the gifts were expensive, but Professor McGonagall seemed to be saying that Snape could have given him much cheaper gifts, had he chosen to. Maybe the Rites only specified that he had to offer gifts, rather than saying they had to be good quality gifts. Harry decided to check the book Snape had given him the night before. Maybe it had this Guardianship Rite in it and he'd be able to check on that.  

Harry and Professor McGonagall made slow but sure progress down to the dungeons. The farther they descended, the more nervous Harry became. He didn't really want to spend his summer down in damp, cold, Slytherin land.

It took a while to get the hang of walking on the crutches and Harry was sure that his Head of House had stifled at least one chuckle at Harry's attempts, but they did eventually make it to the dungeons. His rooms seemed to have been created out of the space across from the corridor that leads to the Potions classroom and by the stairs that led up to the Great Hall. Well he wouldn't be too far into the dungeons, that was good.  

They stopped in front of a doorway he was sure he'd never seen there before. He wondered if it had always been here but had been pretending to be a wall until now. It had a beautiful stone archway over a solid, ancient looking wooden door. The archway was engraved with a lot of different animals. Harry didn't really look closely as he waited to get in. Professor McGonagall uttered a password under her breath and promised to allow Harry to choose his own before she left.

They walked into a large, bright sitting room. Harry couldn't stop himself from staring in awe. He'd never had a nice room to himself. He didn't count the one at the Dursleys' because that one was cold, spare, unwelcoming, and Dudley's. This room, though, seemed to calm him as soon as he entered. And at least for the summer, it was his!

The furnishings were comfortable looking with light brown woods and beige cushions with Gryffindor red lampshades and fluffy pillows on the couch and chairs. On the opposite wall was a sliding glass door with beige and red curtains. Harry had never seen a sliding glass door in a Wizard room before, but then, he hadn't seen many Wizard rooms. Really, he'd only been in the Weasley house and he didn't think they had one. This one opened to what seemed to be a sunny courtyard with a lot of plants and flowers arranged in small gardens. It must be in the front of the castle where the dungeons were above ground. The Potions classroom was on the opposite side and pretty much wholly under ground. Here, with the curtains open like they were, the whole room filled with sunlight. Harry would have to investigate the courtyard later.  

Professor McGonagall led Harry to his bedroom door, which opened off the left wall of the living room, and stepped aside for him to enter. There was a standard student four poster in the room, some bookshelves, and a wardrobe. Harry's trunk was at the foot of his bed and Professor McGonagall set his other things down on the desk that was opposite the bookcases. It was under a large window and allowed a lot of natural light for writing.  

There were heavy Gryffindor patterned curtains on the window. It was pretty obvious who'd designed these rooms. As if sensing Harry's thoughts, the Head of Gryffindor explained: "I expected you'd want some familiar Gryffindor items down here in Slytherin territory. Who knows? Maybe someday you'll take the dungeons over and stake it as a Gryffindor annex."  

Harry chuckled. He could just see Snape allowing that. She then opened the desk drawer and drew out a large Gryffindor banner and held it up to the wall, looking at Harry expectantly. At Harry's grin and nod she stuck it to the wall with a charm and stood back to admire her handy work. "Can't have you forgetting who you are down here, can we, Mr. Potter?" she asked. They shared a smile and she indicated the parchment, ink and quills in the desk drawer. "You'll likely want to write to your friends. I'll send a house elf up to the Owlery to retrieve your owl for you, if you'd like."  

"There are house elves at Hogwarts?" Harry asked, surprised.  

"Oh yes," said Professor McGonagall briskly. "They work in the kitchens, preparing meals. As well as cleaning the the students quarters, doing endless laundry, and stroking the fires."  

Harry nodded. He had wondered who kept the dorm and their clothes clean. "OK, well, thank you, ma'am, that would be brilliant."  

"Very well, then, I'll leave you to it. First though, let's go set your password. You are safe here in the castle, but everyone likes their privacy. The Headmaster and I, and the other Heads of House have access to any room in the castle for emergency purposes. However, we do not enter unbidden except in case of emergency."  

That made sense, but he did wonder if Snape would abuse that rule. He figured there'd be some sort of revenge for the Papa Severus remark. He could just see Snape letting himself in to loom over Harry and demand he do a gazillion lines about how far into next week he'd be hexed if he ever called his professor “papa” again.

After setting the password to "Treacle Tart", Professor McGonagall reminded Harry of the midday meal and requested that he come to the Great Hall three times a day to eat. If he needed assistance, he was to go next door to Professor Snape's quarters and knock. Harry gulped. He couldn't imagine a scenario in which he'd be that desperate, and who's bright idea was it anyway to put him next door to Snape?

Just as she was leaving, Harry remembered something important. "Ma'am?" Harry bushed as McGonagall turned to him. "Um, where's the closest loo?"

This time the professor did chuckle, though she apologized and pointed out a door along the same wall as Harry's bedroom, one he hadn't noticed before. He had his own loo in his own rooms! Harry smiled his thanks and Professor McGonagall left him to his letter writing.  

Which brought to mind something Harry had been anxious about and now had to face. How was he going to tell his friends that the Greasy Slytherin Git was his father? Harry sat on his bed. It was so much to take in. The whole week had been one long, wild ride and not much of it was good. Getting away from the Dursleys was brilliant, but at what price?  

James Potter, the man who he believed all his life was his father, really wasn't. Everyone told him how much like James Potter he was. He even carried the man's name and inherited his gold and invisibility cloak. Everyone said that James Potter was well liked, almost a legend at Hogwarts. He had a Quidditch award, was obviously an excellent Chaser. They also said Harry got his broomstick talent from his father. But he couldn't have, could he? Because his father wasn't James Potter after all. And everything Harry had believed about himself was turning belly up. His whole life had been rearranged, right down to who had fathered him.  

Suddenly, it was too much to take. For the first time all week, Harry was alone with his thoughts. And his thoughts were upsetting. Tears burned in his eyes as the whole mess that his life had become came crashing down on him.  

Harry laid face down on his bed and thought about all the things that were screwed up in his life. He thought about all the things he'd lost, all of the people that had left his life. His mum, his dad, for James Potter was his dad. He thought about the Dursleys, who were the only family he'd known for so many years but who couldn't stand the sight of him. He thought about how he was finally rescued from the Dursleys and was immediately turned over to another man who hated him just as much. He swallowed a lump in his throat and rubbed his slightly burning eyes. Despite everything that had happened within these walls, life at Hogwarts had been really good. But what would happen now? How would his life change now that he was Snape's charge?

He thought about how much he loved having James Potter as his father and how now his feelings of who Harry Potter is were all jumbled because James Potter wasn't really his father. He felt terrible because he had just denied James Potter as his father when the man had died to protect Harry and his mother. He'd given them his name, his love, and his protection, and now Harry was betraying him by thinking about how he wasn't really even his father. He thought about how he didn't understand how he could be Snape's son when his mum was married to James Potter, and it made him think of a bunch of different scenarios that could explain that, none of which made him feel any better.

He laid there feeling miserable for a good twenty minutes more before wiping his eyes and deciding that he couldn't change any of those things, and crying about them wouldn't make them better. It had been so long since he'd indulged in a session of feeling sorry for himself like that. The last time had been when he was a little kid, stuck in that cupboard at Christmas while his family celebrated together, but without him. He'd cried then, a lot. And that memory wasn't doing him any more good than the thoughts that led him to his breakdown this time. He wasn't bawling, but it was a close thing.

He stood up, grabbed his crutches and hobbled into the loo, which he noted was quite impressive, and splashed cold water on his face.  

Looking around he saw a huge tub he could almost swim in. There were several bottles alongside the tub. One looked to be shampoo, but the others looked like they were stuff you added to your bath water, stuff like the ones Aunt Petunia had on the side of her tub that she claimed relaxed her. Harry hoped they didn't smell like flowers like hers did.

He returned to the main room and settled at his desk, drawing out a clean sheet of parchment paper, a quill, and an ink pot. He tried to think about what he was going to say. He'd write to Ron first. What would Ron say when he heard the news? Would he still even still want to be friends with Harry? Harry didn't think Ron would reject him for something he couldn't control. His friend wasn't like those pure-blooded Malfoys who thought that blood was everything. The Weasleys seemed to care only who you were, not where you came from.  

Harry took a deep breath. If he had to find out that James Potter wasn't his birth father, why couldn't he have found he was part of a family like the Weasleys instead of the son of the nastiest man he knew aside from his uncle and Voldemort? He sniffed a bit and started writing. He tried several times to explain that he was now suddenly Snape's son and Snape was now in charge of him, but he couldn't find a way to put it down on paper.  

Giving up, he decided instead to take a bath. Hospital wing cleansing charms were great, but they always left him feeling like he still needed a bath. He liked baths. They were great places to relax, warm your muscles, and think. And that bathtub in there was brilliant.  

Harry grabbed his crutches and made his way to his trunk where he took out one of Dudley's old tee shirts and a pair of his old jeans. Maybe Dumbledore would let him go clothes shopping sometime this summer. He'd love to have his own clothes instead of Dudley's hand me downs. With fresh clothes tucked under his arm, he made his way to the bathroom.  

There was a shelf in there where he put his fresh clothes, then he turned on the taps. He made the water hot...as hot as he could stand it. He always did that at Hogwarts when he had time. He loved that he was allowed to take long hot baths here. It wasn't too hard to get his jeans off, as they were pretty wide and easily slid down over his immobilized leg. He tossed the clothes, minus his belt, into the basket that was similar to the one in the tower. He was glad to see that it worked the same and swallowed up dirty clothes to be laundered.  

Climbing over the high edge of the tub was an adventure, but he managed. Madam Pomfrey must have had a say in what bottles were alongside the tub because there was a muscle relaxing bath potion there. His arms ached from hobbling around on crutches all day. He sighed deeply as he relaxed into the hot water.  

Putting jeans on over an immobilized leg was a bit more complicated than getting them off, but again, he managed. After tucking the long, wide tail of the massive faded green tee shirt into the wide waist of his jeans, he rolled up the legs and hopped over to his belt, which he then threaded through the loops. That done, he now had a big lump of excess jean material to deal with.  

With the ease of long practice, he separated the material into several small lumps so the extra wasn't all in one place. The shirt was wide enough that it ballooned over the waist band of the pants and hid the extra bumps. He noticed a new hole developing in one of the threadbare knees and wondered if there was a spell that would mend it. Then he wondered if he would be allowed to do magic at all, considering it was the summer holidays and students normally weren't allowed to do magic over the summer. He'd have to ask at lunch.

Finally dressed, Harry decided to tour the courtyard. It looked so inviting with all the flowers and plants he'd seen from the door during his short tour when he arrived. Harry loved gardening, he just hated having to weed the Dursleys' garden so often. Gardening had always given him a sense of peace. The earth held so much life. A simple seed placed in the dirt could become a bush that would feed many, or a plant that would cure thousands, or a tree that would live for hundreds of years. Harry had a lot of respect for something that powerful.  

He slid open the glass door and stepped into the sunshine. It was a large courtyard, easily the size of four classrooms. He set out on his crutches to give himself the grand tour. There were trees, a lot of different plants, and many kinds of flowers. It looked like it was well tended. Someone must come out here regularly to take care of the plants. There were stone walkways and some benches. The was even a stone fire pit in one corner with a grate that looked like it could be used for cooking. Around it was a table with an umbrella and some comfortable looking chairs. It was really nice out here and Harry decided it would be the perfect place to come to read a book. Maybe Hedwig could stay out here, too, though she'd have to go outside the castle walls to hunt.  

After making his way around the courtyard, he came back toward the castle and his room. He noticed another door along the same wall as his room, one he hadn't seen when first came out. That had to mean he was sharing this courtyard with someone, probably the one who tended the plants. Professor McGonagall hadn't said he couldn't come out here, he hoped it would be okay with whoever lived there.

Then an awful thought crossed his mind. Who else could it be? It was a courtyard that led off the upper side of the dungeons with a door next to his own. There was only one other person that Harry knew of who lived here in the dungeons during the summer and that person had rooms next door. He quickly turned back toward his own door, ready to bolt, when a dark figure stood up from where he'd apparently been bent over, tending to some tall plants.  

Startled, Harry jumped back, fell flat on his bum, legs skewed and crutches flung to his sides. He let out a very undignified "oof".  

Professor Snape scowled at him. "I see Professor McGonagall failed to advise you that we would be sharing this courtyard."  

From the expression on Snape's face, Harry could tell the man wasn't happy having Harry in his garden. He scrambled backward while trying to reach his crutches and get back onto his feet. He did not want to be at more of a disadvantage than he already was with this man. He'd learned early on not to turn your back on someone who had it in for you. Laying splayed out on the ground with a bum leg had to qualify, too.  

Harry tried to stutter out an apology, but Snape waved it away. "Get back on your feet and act your age, Mr. Potter. Your mere presence likely offends some of the more delicate plants out here. Do try to keep your disruptive behavior to a minimum."

“Hey!” Harry yelped. Seriously, was that the only thing he could manage to say today?

"Articulate as always, Potter." Snape advanced on Harry and came right up to Harry's face, but Harry held his ground. Father or no, he wasn't going to let the man intimidate him. "As it appears we will be sharing this courtyard for a time," the man sneered, disgust evident on his features, "We will simply agree to stay out of each other's way while out here."  

That didn't sound so bad. He'd just told Harry to stay out of his way, even sort of said he'd stay out of Harry's way, too. He hadn't told him to stay out of the courtyard.  

Still..."I won't bother you out here, Sir," Harry said. "I didn't know it was your courtyard. I'll go inside."  

Snape sighed. "You are allowed to come out here, Potter. Just do not bother me when you do."  

Harry nodded and as he turned to go he remembered Hedwig. "Would it be okay if my owl spent some time out here, too?”  

Snape nodded, and briskly turned away, calling over his shoulder: "Lunch will be served in the Great Hall in an hour, Potter. Do no think you will be excused from attending. Meals are not normally served in our rooms, even for the Great Harry Potter. The sooner you realize that the rules also apply to you, summer or no, the better off we'll all be."  

"Yes Sir." Harry bristled, containing his anger only from long years of practice. He knew what time it was and fully intended to be at lunch on time. He still had an hour before lunch, he hadn't expected to be served meals in his rooms. Snape always had to find fault with him, even when he was just minding his own business and not doing anything wrong. He breathed a sigh of relief as Snape disappeared into his own quarters.  

Once back inside, he drew his Journal of Magic out of his trunk. This book was really special to Harry. Every first year received one when starting at Hogwarts. It was a long standing tradition. The Muggle born, Muggle raised, and other students whose families did not provide the books could receive one from the school. Harry's was a school issued journal. The students who's families provided their journals often had really special ones, but Harry liked his just fine.  

Whenever a spell was taught, the students were asked to record it in their journals. Other things were recorded in the journals, as well, and Harry figured this Guardianship Rite should also be written there. In theory, when a student finished at Hogwarts they'd have a recorded history of everything magical they'd learned here. Nearly every student treasured this volume and kept it clean and neat and used their best handwriting to record entries. No two journals were alike, as students were given free reign as to how to develop and decorate theirs. Hermione's, of course, was already very thick and very well organized. You could add as many fresh pages to the end as you wanted, so you never ran out of pages. So Hermione, who had already filled her journal full, had been adding pages for at least a year. He and Ron often teased her about needing to create a set of matching volumes for herself.

Harry's journal had plenty of pages left but it was fuller than Ron's. Ron was used to magic and seeing it used in all sorts of different ways didn't realize fascinate him like it did he and Hermione. Hermione went for her journal after pretty much everything. Harry wasn't so thorough, but he did add a lot more than Ron did.

Ron's might be the least full of the three of them, but his was the nicest journal. It had a dragon hide cover with the Weasley family crest stamped on the front. Many students had special covers like this. Ron had told Harry that some families, like his, had a special fund they added to for years before their children entered school. That way they could afford to get them a really nice journal when the time came.  

Malfoy had the best journal Harry had seen at Hogwarts. He wasn't sure what kind of leather covered it, but the Malfoy crest was stamped in gold and the pages were vellum. Harry knew that because Malfoy never missed a chance to brag about it. His family would provide him with all the new pages he wanted, as he informed everyone within earshot whenever the subject came up. However, based on what Harry had seen of Malfoy's journal, his family wouldn't need to worry too much about providing him with more pages. He may know a lot of spells, but Harry didn't think he bothered much to record them as his journal appeared to have less than half the original pages filled, even after three years of schooling.  

Harry's book didn't have a lot of fresh pages left in it and he figured that by the Christmas hols, he'd need to buy some new ones. Hermione would know where to get them. She could probably get them at a volume discount.  

As there was still about 45 minutes left before was served in the Great Hall, Harry had a bit of time to kill. He took out the book Snape had given him last night. "Wizarding Customs from the Dawn of Society to Today" sounded really useful. Harry didn't know much about Wizarding customs, though he'd always been really interested in them. He was glad Snape had given him this particular book as part of his vow to make sure Harry received an education.  

Sure enough, chapter 4 detailed the ceremony that had made him Snape's ward. It seemed Snape really had given him better gifts than he'd been required to give. Apparently the gift itself didn't matter. It was what the gift meant that mattered. The gift was a token and could be anything that was related to the promise. So Harry figured Snape could have given him an old, used quill rather than an obviously expensive book. And that set of robes were very nice. Harry didn't know much about fashion, but he could tell they weren't cheap.  

It just didn't make sense. Suddenly finding himself Harry's father hadn't seemed to change Snape's opinion of Harry. He still seemed to hate him as much as he ever had. But he'd been decent about the gifts last night. Maybe he just didn't want to be embarrassed in front of the witnesses, though Harry couldn't see Snape caring what anyone thought of him. If he did, he wouldn't have stalked out of the room as soon as he'd completed the requirements of the ceremony. He shook his head. Figuring out Snape's motivations would probably take a team of psychiatrists or wizard mind healers so he didn't have any hope that he'd be successful at it.

During the ceremony, Harry had wondered why he wasn't required to take much of an active part. Now he realized how dumb that was. This ceremony was most often used for infants, because that's when children were most often adopted. Babies couldn't do much more than lay there so Harry hadn't been required to do much, either.  

He carefully recorded the rite in his journal, including the list of gifts and promises he'd been given. He also made a note about how he'd been made heir to the Snape and Prince families, which still astounded him. He really didn't think he'd ever understand Snape, and wasn't sure he ever wanted to.

Harry smoothed the pages carefully before closing the cover. He always took special care of this book. It was the physical evidence of his new life, the life he lived away from Privet Drive. The life filled with magic and friends.  

He slid the book into the top drawer of his desk, thinking of the year ahead of him and wondering which new spells they'd be learning. Every day at Hogwarts was a day of new discoveries. Wizard born kids grew up surrounded by magic. Kids like Harry frequently found themselves in awe of all the ways magic could enhance your life. Harry loved every minute of it.  

If he was going to be on time for lunch he'd better get moving. He did a little hopping dance around the room, wondering how one crutch ended up on one side of his desk while the other was way over by the window. Once settled on the crutches, he took one last look around his sitting room, smiled at how at least this part of his new life was really rather nice, and went out the door.  

It took several minutes for Harry to get to the Great Hall, and by the time he got there, there was only one place left at the table. Upon seeing Harry, Sirius stood up and met him at the doorway. His Godfather grabbed his upper arm and helped him the rest of the way to the table. Harry grinned up at Sirius. It was good to have someone who cared.  
 

He sighed happily as he sat down between Sirius and Professor Lupin and dug into the ham slices and potatoes that Professor Lupin had piled onto his plate. Nothing beat Mrs. Weasley's cooking, but the food here at Hogwarts came in a close second.