Harry did not expect the angry twisted scowl on Snape's face.

"Get in here," Snape growled, pulling Harry into the office.

Harry blinked in confusion, shrinking back a little in case Snape's hands lost their steadiness and tried to smack him.

"But you wanted..." Harry started, the weight of the notebook in his pocket far weighing him down.

"You cannot possibly remember," Snape barked, letting Harry go and pacing in front of his desk. "You were fifteen months old - far too young to properly remember such an event."

Snape sounded almost as if he'd looked such possibilities up, and Harry kept well back from the man, utterly confused.

"I don't remember much," Harry admitted, watching Snape carefully.

The dark eyes snapped to him and Harry flinched. He was slightly taken back at how fast Snape could go from enraged to calculating.

"How much, exactly, Mr Potter?"

"A few seconds," Harry answered. He shifted his feet on uneven floor in the office, feeling just as off kilter mentally as he tried to figure out why this particular memory would make Snape so cross.

Snape was peering at him, and Harry looked down at his shoes. He'd written everything out in his notebook, something that had taken quite a bit of nerve, as he was particularly averse to reliving the memory, and he hoped Snape would be satisfied with it.

"A flash of green, someone laughing, and my mother screaming," Harry mono-toned, his eyes flicking over Snape and noting the little differences in Snape's posture. This was Professor Snape, the cold and intelligent potions master who was a no-nonsense taskmaster and Head of House.  This was not the Snape of the summer, a man who was equally brilliant, but somehow younger and not as mean with his sarcasm.

"That's the only memory I have of her," Harry finished, crossing his arms.

There was no missing the flash of hurt that went through Snape's eyes, though it was there for only a brief moment. It unsettled Harry further, and he wondered why a simple task of telling Snape about this very short memory of Voldemort and his mother had turned out so wrong.

Snape's fingers flexed around the long swaths of black that were his teaching robes, and Harry wondered how the man wasn't constantly dripping his sleeves in cauldrons. Snape seemed to have good command though, flicking his arms up and wrapping the cloth around himself, as if to gather his thoughts and emotions.

"If you wish to know more about your mother, speak to your Head of House. She was, after all, a Gryffindor."

Harry nodded, making a mental note to do just that. Everyone seemed well pleased to talk about his father, but Harry wanted to know about his Mum as well.

After leaving the office, Harry slowly walked back up to the dorm reviewing his entire encounter with Snape. The man had seemed so...cross to hear that Harry remembered that night, but almost maybe a little panicked? And he'd certainly looked relieved when Harry had confirmed just how little he remembered of the night.

An absurd thought occurred to Harry as he approached the Gryffindor common room. It almost seemed like Snape had been there that night, and was terrified that Harry might have known.

....

By the time mid October rolled around, Harry could cast a patronus well enough to not only recognize the shape as a stag, but to keep the patronus corporal for a few minutes. Harry still couldn't use it to send a message, and he was wary of testing it against a real Dementor, but Snape seemed pleased with his progress.

When he'd asked Snape if the patronus could be used to signal if he was in danger, Snape had responded in his normal cutting way.

‘Yes, that's inconspicuous, Potter. If you're ever kidnapped, ask them to close their eyes while you conjure a large, shiny patronus.'

But he had begrudgingly told Harry that an emergency call method was not a horrible idea, and gave Harry the task of figuring out an effective, yet stealthy, object to use. Harry hadn't thought of anything acceptable yet, but he still considered it a victory in his quest to prove to Snape that he wasn't a moron in regards to his own personal safety.

On the Tuesday before the first Hogsmeade weekend of the year, Snape started teaching Harry basic shielding charms. They went over body shielding charms, property shielding charms, and charms to use at night when sleeping. Snape had Harry practise on a classroom cauldron, and it took an embarrassingly long time for Harry to realise that Snape was teaching him how to shield his cauldron from any helpful additions from Malfoy in class.

Harry shook his head, keeping his concentration focused as he tossed stirring sticks at his cauldron to test the shield. They bounced off harmlessly, and Harry smiled. Snape was certainly very subtle in his ways of helping, but Harry did remember Snape warning him about people watching closely at school.

"Sir?" Harry asked, breaking the comfortable silence in the room. Snape was in a good mood, sitting at his desk and correcting essays. A small radio was playing from somewhere behind the desk, at a low enough volume that anyone that happened to wander by in the corridor wouldn't hear it.

"Perfectly cast, Mr Potter?" Snape asked, without looking up.

"Uh, I think so," Harry said, glancing down at his cauldron again. The shield was invisible, but Harry was pleased to see that waving his own hand in front of the cauldron was possible. It'd be a bad brewing shield if even he couldn't add ingredients.

"We shall see," Snape said, and though he didn't move, Harry's eyes darted around the office in anticipation of random ingredients flying at him.

"In class, Potter," Snape clarified.

"Oh," Harry said, nodding. He cancelled the spell over the cauldron, and tidied up his workspace.  It was almost half seven, which was time for him to change back into running clothes and go back up to the dorm.

"When will we be testing the patronus with a Dementor?"

Snape looked up at him this time, his quill hovering over an essay.

"With a boggart. I've no desire to deal with an actual Dementor."

Harry remembered the frozen chill in his nerves and the weakness he'd felt when he faced the Dementors on the train, and quite agreed with Snape.

"You don't...do you know what your boggart is?" Harry asked, suddenly curious if that was the main reason Snape didn't want a Dementor around.

There was silence in the room, and Harry heard a few notes from a Muggle song coming from the radio.

"That is a very personal question, Potter."

Chastised, Harry twisted his mouth slightly. Harry was accustomed to people always knowing the worst about himself, and he sometimes forgot that others fiercely guarded the privacy they maintained.

"Sorry, sir," Harry said. "I had just wondered, since you don't seem to be afraid of much, and you've already faced Voldemort."

Snape's dark eyes were almost piercing, as he seemed to stare through Harry.

"My boggart no longer inspires fear," Snape evasively answered.

"Really? Why not?" Harry curiously asked.

"Because it has already happened," Snape curtly responded, going back to his marking.

"Oh," Harry said, the curiosity dying a quick death in his chest. He'd often thought that something awful had happened in Snape's life, to make him such a cross and dark man, but Harry wasn't quite sure if he wanted to know exactly what it was.

The tension that had been in the room had settled slightly though, and another thought was nagging in the back of Harry's mind.

Picking up his backpack, Harry unfolded a piece of paper from his pocket and uselessly re-read it; the words practically memorized by now.

"Professor," Harry started, walking up toward the desk. "You said, this summer, that Aunt Petunia gave you custody."

Snape's eyes were watching him like a hawk, and Harry knew the man was trying to figure out what he was up to.

"Not legally," Snape clarified.

Harry's step faltered very slightly, but he continued with his plan nonetheless.

"Right. I, well, I was wondering if you could sign this for me," Harry said, his words speeding up by the end of the question.

Snape glanced down at the paperwork in his hands, recognising it immediately, likely from collecting so many of the forms over the years from his Slytherins. He raised his eyebrow at Harry.

"I am teaching you how to train yourself to fend against dangers, including an escaped lunatic out searching for you, and you want me to give permission for you to leave school grounds?"

Flustering, and feeling like his last shot was slipping away from him, Harry blurted the first thought that came to mind out.

"You could disguise me as John, like in the summer," Harry argued. "No one would know."

"I would know, Potter!" Snape snapped. "Disguised as John indeed. Risking your life for sweets and butterbeer."

"It's not about the sweets!" Harry argued back. "I just want to be normal and go to the village like everyone else."

He angrily folded up the letter and shoved it into his pocket.

"Don't play the pity card with me, Potter," Snape warned, shaking his finger. "You have no idea what Sirius Black is capable of."

"Yeah, I do," Harry angrily said. "He betrayed my parents and killed thirteen people."

"And tried to kill me too," Snape nastily said. "His prank was the one your heroic father saved me from. I will not be condoning you going to the village while that demented fool is out on the run."

"You would have for Draco Malfoy," Harry replied. He flinched upon seeing Snape's face, reconsidering his response seconds too late.

"Do not assume anything about Slytherin House and how it is run," Snape hissed. "Draco Malfoy would have begged me, yes, because he is a little prat who has never been taught that he can't always have what he wants. I would have very happily denied him as well."

"Fine," Harry grumbled, swinging his backpack up onto his shoulders and storming out of the room. "See you Saturday, sir."

"Potions class Thursday, Potter," Snape crisply barked after him.

Harry muttered darkly to himself as he made his way out of the dungeons, the only bright sliver of light cheering him was the fact that Malfoy's own Head of House didn't seem to like the little twat either.

...

Even though they'd had a row during the last training lessons, Snape did not send any sort of message cancelling the weekend one. So Harry left extra early for his 7:30 lesson on Saturday morning, deciding to take a twenty-minute jog around the lower dungeons before going to meet Snape. Taking up running was only a cover story, but Harry realised that staying in shape wasn't necessarily a bad idea.

It was just too bad that he wasn't all that fond of running.

When he finally showed up at Snape's office after a few laps, Snape had given him a funny look and brought out a glass of water for him. The lesson went as normal, a bit of theory mixed in with the practical, and Harry had finally mastered a simple shielding spell. They were in the middle of discussing sleeping spells when a loud banging sounded on the office door, as if the person on the other side didn't expect Snape to be in there.

Snape's lip curled in irritation, as Harry knew he didn't like to be interrupted, and he waved his wand at the office door. Harry could hear the muffled voices through the wood, and by the shouting, Harry suspected they were trying to assign blame for something.

"Up, Potter," Snape finally said, somehow figuring out who was on the other side and what they wanted. The cupboard door behind Snape's desk, which Harry knew led to his personal quarters, opened on its own and Snape pushed him toward it.

The door was shut firmly behind him, ending any eavesdropping thoughts Harry might have entertained. Harry walked down the short hallway instead, opening the door at the end, and blinking at the unexpectedly bright room that was on the other side.

The floors were still the grey flagstones that were prominent throughout the castle, though these ones didn't appear nearly as cold as the ones in the hallways.  The walls had been painted a very bright white, almost blindingly so, which made Harry forget that he was in the dungeons of the school. Snape had modern furniture in the room, much like the non-descript and fashionably neutral things at his house in Lower Tarrow, and the same security house picture that had been outside the little office was hung up on the wall by the door.

To Harry's right was a door leading to the washroom, and then along that was a couch and chair. The wall didn't reach all the way to the end of the room, and Harry wondered if the opening at the far end of the wall led to Snape's bedroom. On his left side was a simple galley kitchen done in a light wood colour, and there was a small café table just beyond the line of cabinets. At the edge of the living room area, near the opening to Snape's bedroom, was a desk and some bookcases. Fairly well set up for a square box of a flat, and Harry was slightly surprised at how Muggle the design was.

There was no TV in this flat though, and Harry bemoaned the lost practise time for the Nintendo games he'd started over the summer.

Unsure of how long Snape would be dealing with the students, Harry wandered over to the desk and looked closely at the map pinned to the wall behind it. It was the same map that had been in his room-no, in the office of Snape's house-but Snape had added more half circles and city markers. Harry felt a pang of jealousy that Snape had done more research without telling Harry what it was about.

He took his notebook out and started making notes of the random things Snape had scribbled on the map. Not much of it made sense to Harry, but perhaps he'd come across something later that would click. He did notice a post it note on the map over Lower Tarrow, which said "not on a great circle." Harry had absolutely no idea what that meant, but he wrote it down anyway.

Just as Harry finished skimming the map to see what he'd missed, he heard a bang from the other side of the flat, where the door to Snape's office was. Snapping his journal shut, Harry darted over to the couch and had just sat down when Snape stormed into the room. Harry looked up with a smile, attempting to look innocent. Snape gave him a queer look, before opening the washroom door.

"The machine is the same here as at the summer house. Make some coffee, Potter, and be prepared to defend your cup with magic," Snape ordered, before disappearing into the loo and leaving Harry to his own devices.

Harry smiled, slipping easily back into the contented mood that he'd been in most of the summer at Snape's house.

In the kitchen area of Snape's flat were some unwashed mugs by the sink, a half empty (and cold) pot of tea, several apples and bananas in a bowl, and a stack of papers and books. The books he recognised - Snape had brought them to their previous potions lesson and had been lecturing from them. The papers must have been Snape's notes, and Harry was curious to see that Snape's writing was rather sloppy, when he was making notes to himself.

As he filled the coffee maker, Harry's eyes wandered over the lecture notes until he noticed a word sticking out, from a sheet underneath the top of the pile.

John.

Specifically John's, and then something else scribbled under the fold of the paper. His curiosity peaked; Harry pressed the button on the coffee maker, happy that it still worked, despite being surrounded by all the magic at Hogwarts, and quietly lifted the sheet of paper out of the pile.

John's Tasks

• Obstacle course
• Blind targeting
• Poison verification
• Veritaserum test
• Taken
• Patronus
• Offensive spells
• Hand to hand combat

Harry smiled at the list and tried to stuff it back into the pile. Snape was certainly taking his task as defence trainer seriously, and though Harry was slightly concerned about some of the items on the list (he absolutely did not want to know if ‘taken' meant what he thought it did), he felt warm inside to see that Snape was putting as much work into training Harry as he was. Even after the argument they'd had about Harry going into Hogsmeade, Snape wasn't quitting. For a man who didn't exactly like Harry, he seemed very determined that Harry be as prepared as possible for his next fight with Voldemort.

Harry hummed to himself as he made the coffee, and wondered about the name on the list. Dumbledore knew about the training, didn't he? If so, why did Snape use Harry's disguise name? Perhaps he'd written the list in class, and didn't want to chance anyone reading over his shoulder? Harry couldn't imagine anyone ever having the nerve to do that, as the loss to house points would be substantial - so perhaps it wasn't a student Snape was worried about. Maybe a staff member?

"Don't look so cheerful this early on a Saturday morning, Potter," Snape grumbled, taking his grey waistcoat off. "It's unnatural."

A smirk settled across Harry's face as he opened up the cupboard beside the fridge, by habit. Just like in Lower Tarrow, there were two packages of Snape's favourite biscuits sitting at the front of the shelf. Harry put them on a plate, which was snapped up by Snape, and brought the coffees out to the coffee table.

"Cast your spell," Snape ordered, sipping from his own cup. Sitting back on the couch, Harry cast the shielding spell Snape had taught him earlier in the week over his cup.

"Okay," Harry said. He watched, with a growing sense of accomplishment, as Snape conjured a variety of small things and attempted to break the shield that Harry had over his cup. Nothing got through, and Harry felt triumphant. In the split second after he realised he'd been successful, Snape leaned over and smacked him up the back of his head.

"What the bloody hell?" Harry demanded, rubbing the back of his head. A single biscuit, which had been hovering over the plate, dropped into Harry's cup of coffee and splashed it all over the coffee table.

"It would seem that I've won," Snape smugly said, placing his cup carefully down on the table.

"You cheated!" Harry pointed out. "You hit me!"

"Death Eaters rarely play fair," Snape calmly informed him.

"I'm starting to think you were one," Harry muttered, as he stood to fetch some serviettes to clean up the mess. "You seem to fit right in with how they do things."

The silence that seeped into the room was deafening, and Harry looked up to see an extremely blank expression on Snape's face. Not a single muscle twitched as Snape stared at Harry, and Harry suddenly had the horrible realisation that his comment had held more truth than jest in it.

Uncomfortable and unsure of what to say, Harry mechanically mopped up the spilled coffee on the table as he tried to think if he should apologise.

"Afraid, Potter?" Snape softly asked, his gaze still very intent. Harry stiffened, recognizing that those two words confirmed what Harry had said. Snape had been a Death Eater.

Harry continued mopping, thinking over the summer, and the training Snape had given him so far. He thought about the truth (as far as Harry knew) Snape had given about his motivations, and remembered the day that Snape had taken him to buy clothing. He also remembered the office-turned-guest room that Snape had given him, and thought about all of the times Snape could have harmed him, but didn't.

"No," Harry answered, balling up the serviettes and walking them back to the kitchen rubbish bin. "I'm not afraid, Uncle Sebastian."

Snape's lips twisted up into a snarl, and for a second Harry thought he'd hurl another biscuit at Harry.

"I detest that name. Though, it reminds me that you have not been properly thanked for that ride on the Knight Bus during the summer."

Harry's eyes widened as he took his spot on the couch again.

"It's okay. I've learned to never take that bus again, unless I absolutely have to," Harry immediately said. Snape ignored him.

"Perhaps some more physical exercises, yes," Snape mused, and while he was now smiling, it wasn't a very pleasant one.

"You can't really throw dodge balls at me here," Harry pointed out, feeling a tiny sense of relief. "There's no private garden to use, and people would definitely ask questions."

The feeling disappeared quite quickly, as Harry took in the smug look on Snape's face.

"Ah, but I have an entire dungeon at my disposal."

....

The lines that Snape had marked on the map most certainly were Great Circles. Harry had found one and a half pages dedicated to them in the book he was reading, detailing their discovery and importance in both the Muggle travel industry and the wizarding one. While he'd experienced apparition in the summer with Snape, and felt sufficiently scrambled upon each landing, Harry could only imagine the amount of energy it consumed and hadn't even thought of international travel. According to the book, however, great circles were the answer. Somehow the magic worked with them, and allowed wizards and witches to apparate along great circle routes at a significantly reduced energy consumption rate. Harry was fascinated. It was so mundane, the task of long distance travel, but it was something Harry had never thought of.

Of course, in the Muggle world, people had been sitting in cars and jumping on planes for more than fifty years. It had never occurred to Harry to wonder what the wizarding equivalent of that would be.

"Hello there."

All three glanced up from their books, hands frozen over the pages, guilt flashing across their expressions as if they were up to something. As it was late October, and nothing had actually happened this year for them to get into, it was purely instinct. Harry abruptly shut his mouth, not realising that it had dropped open slightly as he was focused on his reading.

"Hello, Professor," Harry greeted. He kept his hand on the page of the General and Practical Magical Advances book he was absorbed in, but closed the book. In his past two years at Hogwarts, Harry had learned that Dumbledore, though he seemed not to, noticed everything.

"Hello," Ron followed up, while Hermione smiled. Professor Dumbledore looked like he'd not originally intended to come into the library, but had been drawn to it nonetheless.

"So good to see young minds constantly learning," Dumbledore said, smiling. "Harry, if I might have a word?"

He dropped a bag of hard candy sweets on the table and wandered off toward the Restricted Section, expecting Harry to follow.

Shrugging, Harry left the table and had just caught up to Dumbledore when the man started talking.

"Unfortunately I do not bring any good news regarding Sirius Black," Dumbledore started, though he didn't sound all that upset. "He has still not been captured."

"Do you think he's close to here?" Harry asked, thinking of the Dementors hovering around the castle.

"I certainly believe it's possible," Dumbledore said, picking a puce coloured book off the shelf to look at.

"How are your running sessions?"

It was asked innocently, and Harry blinked in surprise.

"You know about the training?"

"Naturally," Dumbledore said, putting the book back. "I am the Headmaster of the school, Harry. I don't always know what happens in the school, but I try to keep track of the important things."

"Of course," Harry said, distracted by a rather racy looking book on the shelf next to him. Sensual Spellcasting.

"They're going well. He's even doing physical training."

"Ah," Dumbledore said, smiling more to himself than Harry. "Very good. Severus has always had a more hands-on fighting style, much less drama and circumstance than the old days. And are you feeling more confident?"

Harry thought back to his previous two years, of the professors he'd had, and the things he'd faced at the end of each year. They'd reached a window in the library that overlooked the courtyard, and Harry nodded.

"Yes," Harry answered. "I don't feel quite as helpless."

A sad look crossed Dumbledore's face for a second, but before Harry could think of commenting, it was gone.

"Well, that's certainly good to hear," Dumbledore answered instead. "Though I must insist, Harry, that even with this new bout of confidence, that you do not try to sneak out of the castle to Hogsmeade."

Harry scowled and crossed his arms as he looked out the window.

"Have you spoken to Professor Snape?"

"Should I have?" Dumbledore asked, his eyes rather bright.

"No," Harry immediately answered. Clouds were moving in over the courtyards-dark and angry looking ones-and Harry was beginning to expect that the Dementors were causing more foul weather than usual. "He just gave me the same warning, but...in different words."

Dumbledore hummed in amusement, and for a second, all Harry could think of was a merry hive of bumblebees.

"Much stronger words, I imagine," Dumbledore said. "None the less, Professor Snape was wise to warn you, and Harry, it is for your own safety. I'm sure your friends would be most willing to bring back sweets and Zonkos amusements for you."

They'd started walking back toward the table, and Harry felt like he'd never leave the school. Dumbledore was usually the one to turn a blind eye to him breaking the rules, but even he had put his foot down.

"Probably," Harry distractedly said. Over by the front of the library the door opened, and Harry spotted Professor Lupin walking in.

"Professor," Harry suddenly asked, still looking at Lupin. "Is it true that Professor Snape hates Professor Lupin?"

Harry looked over just in time to see the smile form under Dumbledore's beard.

"I believe they are not fond of each other, no," Dumbledore said. "But that, my boy, is not a tale for me to tell."

"Well I'm not going to ask Snape," Harry immediately said. "He gets cross every time I mention Defence class."

"Professor Snape, Harry," Dumbledore gently reminded. "While there is another person, Professor Lupin, that you can ask for the story, don't forget to listen to both sides."

And with that, Dumbledore strolled off, leaving the candy at the desk, and Harry very confused as Hermione tried to catch his attention.

....

Harry planned to spend Friday night moping around in his bed. All of his options to get to Hogsmeade had run out, and even though he knew that it was dangerous to go with Sirius Black on the loose, part of him felt like the danger was being over played. He was also tired of hearing everyone talk about how awesome the village was, what treats they would get, and how much butterbeer they'd drink.

"What'd the book do to you?" Ron asked, startling Harry as he came into the room. Harry had been holding onto his summer notebook, the one with all his memories of Voldemort, and been doodling.

"Nothing," Harry moodily responded.

"Come on Harry, it's the weekend," Ron prompted, dumping his own bag of books on his bed.

"Leave off," Harry warned, closing his notebook and tossing it at the end of the bed. He closed his eyes, missing the thoughtful look on Ron's face.

"Don't get pissy with me, mate, I told you I'd bring you back stuff from Honeydukes."

"I'm not cross with you, Ron. I just don't want to talk about it," Harry grumbled.

"Right. Well, good," Ron answered back, sitting on his bed, with his feet dangling in the space between his bed and Harry's. "Talking's for girls."

Harry didn't answer, and he fought the urge to cross his arms and have a pout like a proper two-year old.

"So you're bored then," Ron said, seeming to enjoy irritating Harry.

"Yes Ron, I'm bored. And not happy."

"Of course not," Ron scoffed. "This whole year's been boring!"

"What are you talking about?" Harry said, sounding slightly exasperated as his eyes remained closed.

"We haven't had to run for our lives yet, have we?" Ron said, a grin on his face. Harry opened one eye suspiciously. "No spiders, no basilisks, no dragons, no Quirrell."

"I'm actually okay with that," Harry slowly said, still lying back and leaning against his headboard. He opened his eyes and tried to figure out what Ron was up to, and why he looked so much like his twin brothers at the moment.

"No you're not, mate," Ron said, smirking. He sounded mischievous, sort of similar to Dudley when Dudley was scheming to get something from Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon. Harry reminded himself that his best friend had grown up with five older brothers, two of them pranksters who were well known by everyone at the school.

"And you're collecting clues about something," Ron said, snatching Harry's notebook from the foot of Harry's bed.

"Ron," Harry growled, sitting up straight. He hadn't written anything incriminating in there, but he had made notes about Snape's house, and didn't want to risk whatever punishment Snape had for his friends finding out. "Give that back."

"Come and get it."

Harry blinked at him, but Ron had already stood up, and was clutching the notebook tightly.

"It's almost curfew, you can't go far."

"Guess you'd better catch me, before the professors do and we lose points," Ron smirked. He darted out the door of the dorm, and it took Harry only a second before he was up and sprinting after his friend.

"Weasley!" Harry yelled, nearly tripping on the last spiral stair down to the common room. He just saw a flash of Ron's plaid shirt as Ron slipped out the portrait hole, and completely ignored Hermione's warning to be careful as he followed. The air in the hallway outside the common room was chillier than inside, but Harry felt his adrenaline racing.

"Come on, Harry," Ron chirped, half a stair case up and moving to another floor. "I thought you'd taken up running."

Well, Harry thought. Game on then. With a burst of speed that his friend hadn't been expecting, Harry shot up the stairs after Ron. Ron's laughter echoed in the hallway, and Harry felt his irritation slipping away as he closed in on his friend. Darting through the smaller corridors (in hopes that less teachers would be passing through them), Ron led Harry through the transfiguration wing, down toward charms, and then out past the staffroom. At half eight, they both gave a fleeting wish that no one was currently in the staffroom.

Harry smiled as they progressed, and he started to hear Ron wheeze from the effort of keeping ahead. His longer legs mostly enabled that, but Harry was hot on his tail as they flew past the trophy room. Several students had been in that hall, coming back from the library, but other than a few 'oi watch it!'s, they were trouble free.

The chase finally came to an end when Ron turned the corner toward where a smaller courtyard was, which was down a very short flight of stairs. Harry vaulted over the stair railing without a second thought, crashing into his friend and knocking them both down.

"I'll take this," Harry said, finally out of breath. He snatched the notebook out of Ron's hand and shoved it in his pocket.

"Took you long enough," Ron huffed back, grinning.

"You've got longer legs," Harry argued.

Harry sat back against the wall with a smirk for a moment. He'd missed going to Ron's house over the summer, but was glad that their friendship hadn't changed one bit.

"Oooooh, what have we here?"

Peeves' high-pitched voice cackled through the air before the poltergeist itself appeared, floating through the hall.

"Little Gryffindors out past their bedtimes?"

Harry narrowed his eyes at Peeves, and Ron glared.

"There's still ten minutes to curfew."

"Details, details," Peeves said, doing somersaults in the air with glee. "Teachers won't be happy if they see you here, after knocking over the suits of armour."

"The what?" Ron asked, his face a mask of confusion.

Peeves giggled again and dove toward one of the old metal suits of armour at the top of the stairs, knocking it with enough force that it crashed over, causing a domino effect with the three other suits in the corridor they were in. An aggravated shout echoed down the hall, one that sounded like it belonged to Argus Filch.

"Time to go," Harry gasped, a mixture of danger and fun coursing through him. Ron didn't even bother answering as they both propelled themselves up off the floor, and down the opposite end of the hall.

....

Harry spent Sunday morning wandering around the castle. Everyone who was going to Hogsmeade had left around nine, and Harry didn't want to stay in the mostly empty common room.

He didn't realise he'd gone past the Defence room, until he heard Lupin's voice calling his name.

"I would have thought you'd have gone to Hogsmeade," Lupin said, a soft smile on his face.

Harry shrugged as he entered the room, his eyes drawn to the cages by the back wall.

"What are those?" Harry asked, curious about the foul looking creatures inside.

"Grindylows," Lupin happily said. "Upcoming lesson."

"They look rather mean."

"Yes, but if they ever catch you, their fingers are very easy to break," Lupin said. He tapped a teapot on his desk with his wand, and it started to boil away. "Tea?"

"Yes, please," Harry said, still staring at the cages. He waited a few seconds before trying to ask his next question as casually as he could. "Have you ever caught a lethifold?"

"A lethifold? No, definitely not. They're very difficult to catch," Lupin said, pouring out the tea.

"But not impossible. They're sold as potion ingredients," Harry countered.

"Rarely," Lupin slowly said. "I didn't know you were so knowledgeable in scarce potion ingredients."

"I'm really not," Harry denied, laughing it off. "I just saw it in the paper, in the summer."

"I see. And have you found any more boggarts in the castle?" Lupin teased, offering Harry a cup.

Harry grimaced and chose not to answer. Another thought occurred to him though, and though he would have just asked Snape at their next lesson, Lupin was the Defence teacher so Harry supposed he should be able to answer.

"Professor? Are there any other creatures that would cause...er. That would bring up the bad memories I have like the Dementors?"

Lupin lit up at the question, and spent half an hour telling Harry all about psychological magic and creatures. He pulled several books down from shelves to give examples, and assured Harry that most of the creatures who could cause such trauma weren't found in the UK. Either that, or they worked for the Ministry as guards at Azkaban.

They were interrupted by a sharp knock at the door, and Harry bit his lip to keep the surprise at seeing Snape from showing on his face.

"Lupin," Snape curtly said, swiftly entering the room. His robes twirled around his legs as he walked, and Harry heard the distinctive click of Snape's dress shoes on the stone floor. He felt Snape's assessing gaze on him, and shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

"Ah, Severus. Thank you so much," Lupin said, watching Snape place the steaming goblet down on his desk.

"You should drink that immediately," Snape said, with a look on his face that clearly expressed his desire that Lupin choke on the potion as well.

"I shall," Lupin said, finishing off his tea. He gave the goblet a foul look, as if the mere steam from it was off-putting.

"See that you do," Snape said, giving Harry another sharp glare. It was the same look he'd had on his face back in the summer, when the Dursleys were making their opinion on keeping Harry well known. Harry wondered why Snape would be looking like that again, as he didn't think Lupin was any sort of threat.

"Potter, I am still waiting on your assignment from three weeks ago," Snape nastily said, and Harry scrambled for a moment to think of what it was. He'd practiced his patronus and shielding charms though, so the only thing that came to mind was the private warning system he'd talked to Snape about.

"See that your busy social calendar doesn't prevent you from turning it in this week," Snape finished, before swirling his robes and gliding out the door.

"Well that was rather dramatic," Lupin quietly said, catching Harry's attention and making Harry smile.

"Aren't you worried he's going to poison you?" Harry asked, pointing at the goblet to distract Lupin from asking about Harry's assignment. "I know he doesn't like you."

"Harry Potter," Lupin protested, his smile crinkling up the sides of his eyes. "You don't honestly think Professor Snape would poison me, do you?"

Harry tried to look as if he were seriously considering the question, remembering clearly the night that Snape had thrown together his Muggle and magical cold cure into a glass and drank it. He also remembered how Snape had managed to hide the taste, when he'd snuck the same concoction into Harry's hot chocolate a few nights after.

"He poisons himself. I wouldn't put it past him," Harry honestly answered.

Lupin let out a bark of laughter and reached for the goblet.

"He does tend to have that look about him, doesn't he?" Lupin said, leaning in to speak in a lower voice. "As if he's just had something repugnant to drink."

"That's usually the look he has on his face when he looks at me," Harry joked, feeling a small, yet strange, sense of guilt for having a laugh at Snape.

....

The Hallowe'en feast was just as spectacular as the year before, and Harry felt a happy warmth spread inside him as he ate a second helping of pumpkin pie. It had been a most interesting weekend, between the training with Snape, the chat with Lupin, the spoils of Hogsmeade, and now the feast. Harry still felt a pang of disappointment for not being able to go to Hogsmeade, but the next weekend wasn't until December, and Harry hoped Black would be caught by then so he could go.

That was, until they'd tried to get back to the dormitory, and seen the slashed mess that was left of the Fat Lady's portrait. Harry's blood had run cold at the words of Peeves, learning that Sirius Black had been in the castle. All desire to go to Hogsmeade was forgotten, as Harry realised just how close Black had been to entering the common room, steps from where Harry normally slept.

As Harry lay next to his two friends in the Great Hall, in the surprisingly comfortable purple sleeping bags Dumbledore had conjured, his mind raced over everything Snape had taught him so far. He'd felt confident before, knowing he'd practised darting away from spells and debris, and that he could hit a target with fairly consistent accuracy in the middle of the night. He could shield his cauldron from explosions, and was learning how to shield himself while he slept. But it wasn't enough. Harry knew it wasn't enough, and this was the first time this year that he'd felt unsafe in the castle.

"Headmaster?"

Snape's voice interrupted his thoughts, and Harry strained to eavesdrop without appearing obvious. He listened to the words that Snape was not saying, in Snape's rather smooth attempt to circumvent Percy's curiosity.

"Should the boy be moved somewhere safer?" Snape asked, after finally telling Percy to go check on some noisemaking students in another corner.

"He is safe here," Dumbledore said, and the volume change of his voice told Harry that he'd turned his head in Harry's direction.

A memory of the first night at Snape's house in the summer, when he'd heard all the odd noises and the wind against the windows, and thought he'd seen the dog, assaulted Harry's mind. He pulled the sleeping bag tighter automatically, curling up onto his side.

"I don't suspect Sirius Black will have stayed around," Dumbledore continued, his voice very soft.

"Perhaps not this time," Snape immediately answered, and his doubt was rather evident.

"Severus," Dumbledore warned.

"I have expressed my concerns more than once with you," Snape hissed, and Harry realised this time that the hissing was from anger more so than the desire to be unheard. "Ever since your announcement this summer..."

"Severus, I am quite certain that Sirius Black has not had any help getting into the castle," Dumbledore interrupted in a no-nonsense tone. "Between our protection and the Dementors, I do not believe that this will happen again."

"Forgive me if I do not share the same confidence in the castle's wards," came Snape's waspish reply. Harry opened his eyes in surprise, as he'd never heard Snape talk back so strongly against Dumbledore.

Snape's dark eyes were staring right back, and Harry was caught. Dumbledore was facing the other way, but there was no way that Snape didn't know that Harry was awake and listening. Instead of saying anything though, Snape flicked his wand toward Harry and muttered a spell. It took only a second to take effect, and Harry felt as if another warm blanket had been dropped on him. He realised that Snape had done some sort of shielding spell on him, so Harry could sleep with relative safety.

Harry replayed the conversation in his mind after both Snape and Dumbledore had walked off, wondering whom Snape was so concerned about. It must have been a person, as Dumbledore had mentioned Black having help getting into the castle, and Harry highly doubted that any of the Hogwarts ghosts would be helping a felon. Snape had also mentioned something about an announcement, but the only one that had stuck out during the opening feast was Professor Lupin's introduction as the newest Defence Against the Dark Arts professor. Was that what Snape had meant?

An image started to form behind Harry's eyes, resembling a sort of tightly knit web. Sirius Black and his father had known each other, based on the information Harry had been told about the prank that had almost killed Snape. Lupin, though it hadn't been confirmed that he knew Black, also knew Snape from when they'd both been at Hogwarts. And Harry suspected that Lupin also knew his father, because on the train, Lupin had known Harry's name without needing an introduction. While Harry knew he was famous and somewhat recognizable in public, his scar had been hidden on the train. The only way Lupin would have known who he was was to have known Harry's dad. Everyone always told Harry he looked exactly like his dad.

From the sounds of it, Snape was concerned that Professor Lupin was still friends with Sirius Black, and was the one letting him into the castle.

Harry stretched in his bag, still enjoying the warmth of Snape's spell, but well aware that he wouldn't be getting to sleep any time soon. Professor Lupin, Sirius Black, Professor Snape, and James Potter; four people who seemed to be intricately connected to each other, and to Harry as well. A father, an enemy, a potential friend or foe, and Snape - a man who had started as an enemy (Harry quietly snorted as he remembered how they'd first thought him a vampire in first year), but who had proven to be very protective of Harry. It was too much to figure out without proper facts, and Harry was not looking forward to researching everything with Hermione. Both he and Ron had a private bet to see who could make it through their entire seven years of school without reading Hogwarts, a History, and it was increasingly looking like Harry was going to lose.

Harry stared up at the open sky in the Great Hall's ceiling, testing himself on the constellations he could see. Such a large sky out there, and yet inside the castle, Harry was feeling slightly claustrophobic as the names ran through his mind once more. The wizarding world, which had once seemed so large and full of mystery and new people everywhere, was turning out to be a lot smaller than Harry had ever imagined.

Just before falling asleep, Harry spotted the Sirius star in Canis Major. He wondered for a moment if Sirius Black had been named after it, as he knew of other wizards that were given astronomy names. The Dog Star, Harry thought, shifting uncomfortably in his sleep, remembering the giant black dog from the summer.