When Ron asked Harry how the talk with Professor McGonagall had turned out, Harry muttered something inaudible.

“Did you do it, then?” insisted Ron. “Will you be able to make it if it’s required of us at the exam?”

“I did and she said that I passed,” said Harry shortly, without looking at Ron.

“Which animal did you do, finally?”

“Oh, a sort of lizard,” muttered Harry. “I didn’t particularly enjoy it.”

Ron scrutinised him, but did not ask any further questions.

Ron was less impulsive and more thoughtful these days. He still had appointments with Healer Schufflert once a week and the influence of the sessions was appreciable through small comments that he made from time to time, like: I need to ask myself what my true wish is before I engage in this project and take action, or, instead of bickering back at Hermione: This is an occasion to exert self-control and ask oneself where your priority lies: to be proven right or to avoid an argument with someone you love?

Ginny, Hermione and Harry were surprised by these lines more than once, sometimes bursting into laughter, sometimes staring at Ron as if he had said something unbelievably wise. Hermione got cross every now and then, as Ron’s way of avoiding an argument with her was a somewhat superior way of implying that she was the one trying to start it and that Ron was above falling into the trap. It infuriated her all the more since she thought they were only exchanging objective arguments and that Ron just wanted to avoid admitting to having lost.

Every morning the Daily Prophet published new theories about Severus Snape. He appeared to be their favourite object, although they occasionally wrote about the other accused Death Eaters as well.

The journalists and their interviewees looked at the case from every possible angle. Had Severus Snape deceived Dumbledore? In that case, in what ways? If his loyalties had been with Voldemort, how had he succeeded in persuading Harry Potter and Kingsley Shacklebolt that he had only played a part? Where were the credentials? The proofs? And did Harry Potter really stick to the story he had told Voldemort during the battle and that Rita Skeeter had transcribed in her book? That Severus Snape had been Dumbledore’s man? If Harry Potter would not testify, like the rumours said, was that because he had changed his mind about that statement and why was that?

Former students of Hogwarts were interviewed and gave testimony to the dislike always present between the Potions Master and the famous student Harry Potter. The rivalry between James Potter, the former Auror and martyr of the first war against Voldemort, and the young Death Eater Severus Snape was dug out and detailed in the articles. New stories of Snape’s brusqueness, his cruelty and his generally displeasing appearance were given room for in the paper every day.

Snape, meanwhile, grew darker and more menacing for every day that passed. The younger pupils stayed pressed against the walls if they met him in the corridors and Ginny overheard Professor Sprout tell Miss Cork that she was glad Snape did not teach the younger classes anymore. Sixth and seventh year students bore with him to the best of their ability. He ridiculed them and yelled at them in classes and made a habit of throwing about quills and stirring sticks when the potions the students produced did not live up to his high standards. He bullied them with homework, then pulled their work to pieces and flew into a temper at any pretext. His teachers hunched when they met him in the corridor and avoided to enter the teacher’s common room when they knew he was inside.

One morning the Daily Prophet reported - and in this case no one questioned their truthfulness - that Professor Snape had ravaged the Ministry the previous day, trying to exert his powers to prevent Rita Skeeter’s book from being published. Harry made a desolate face when he looked at the photograph in the paper. It was far from flattering to Snape, showing him with bared teeth and a mad expression in the eyes as he seemed to growl at the photographer.

***

A couple of days later - they had reached the beginning of March - Harry entered the Great Hall to check on his friends and to have his news read to him by Hermione. True to his habit, he conjured up a cup as soon as he entered through the door and, walking down between the tables, he made a teapot fly in the air as it poured him his tea. Then he summoned the small milk can, grabbed it with his right hand as he steadied the saucer in the air with his left and added only a few drops to create a faint cloud in the golden liquid.

When Harry lifted his head, he noticed how quiet the room had become and realised that everybody’s eyes were directed at him. He had arrived on a level with his friends at whom he directed an inquiring look. Their faces were aghast. Hermione had the Daily Prophet spread out in front of her and his usually so collected friend seemed at a complete loss what to do.

Harry looked at her grimly and steeled himself - there must be something about him in the paper today. He had no inkling of what it could deal with, but whatever it turned out to be, he refused to let himself be affected. He threw a glance at the teacher’s table where Snape sat with his head in his hands, very still between Professor McGonagall and Professor Flitwick who looked terrified at Harry. Professor McGonagall made a faint gesture that caused Snape to lift his head just a few inches. Harry could not tell whether the professor looked at him or not, because the long black hair still covered Snape’s face.

To hide his puzzlement, Harry lifted the teacup to his lips and took a sip, in a purposeful gesture to appear casual. He made a sign at Hermione to show him the newspaper. He could read, already from a distance, the big black letters of a heading that ran over two pages.

”BLOOD THEORIES by Rita Skeeter”.

What did it say underneath? Harry squinted. Hermione rose at the other side of the table and made the open newspaper glide towards him in the air. He took another sip of his tea and stared at the spread. There were four photographs surrounded by text. He recognised himself as a fifteen-year-old in the photograph at the bottom of the page. In the middle, there were two big photographs: one of his father, James, and one of Snape, side by side, and on top of the page there was a drawing of a terrifying figure that would represent Voldemort. He stared at the headline, read it several times before it sank in.

Suddenly Harry spurted out the tea he had not yet swallowed. The droplets showered the floor and he started to laugh out loudly. He put his cup down and grabbed the newspaper hanging in the air, in one hand. “The Heirs of Voldemort?” the underline said. He laughed alone in the silence of the room and held up the paper, rustling it.

“But this is ridiculous!” exclaimed Harry. “You cannot mean to take this seriously!” He looked, incredulous, at his dumbfounded fellow pupils. As he met the staring gazes, fury rose inside him. He absolutely refused to be the hunching object of speculations and slander this time. He would bear his head high. He would show them. “The persons who believe this bullshit are not to consider themselves my friends!” he hissed.

Suddenly the paper in his hand transformed into a scarlet phoenix that took off into the air and flew over the Gryffindor table in the direction of the podium. On its way, it nipped away the papers from the other pupils with its beak and as it did, those papers in turn transformed into various flying creatures which spread through the room, nipping other papers from the hands of yet other pupils, and so on. In no time, the hall swarmed with birds and bats, butterflies and small dragons in all shapes and colours. The scarlet phoenix reached the podium, nicking the teachers’ copies of the Daily Prophet. Professor McGonagall’s newspaper transformed into a tawny owl and Snape’s into a black and silvery bat. Harry was beginning to feel slightly dizzy, controlling hundreds of flying creatures with his magic by now. His fury had made him Charge up and his whole body vibrated with the magic he made.

The hall was no longer silent - buzzing talk and several laughs were heard. Several pupils had risen in bewilderment, Mr Burgess was standing up, gaping at the magic and Professor McGonagall was speechless. She if anyone could appreciate the effort of controlling all those transfigurations at once. Cheers and applauses broke out, but stilled quickly when the headmaster rose at the teacher’s table.

Snape’s face seemed to be contorted with fury and pain. He spread his arms in a sudden gesture, wand in one hand.

“ORDER! Disintegrus!” he roared and the creatures in the air all of a sudden withered. Flakes of ashes snowed down over their heads, some of them landing on Snape’s hair and shoulders. Harry slowly lowered his wand with a hand that was shaking from the effort. Harry kept erect and looked straight at Snape.

“That book of Rita Skeeter’s is a Boggart coming out of a filthy wardrobe and it only deserves to be laughed at!” Harry said fiercely before turning around and walking out of the hall that was again dead silent.

In the Entrance Hall, Harry started to tremble violently. He shook his head and fought against the shock. It wasn’t fair! He had killed Voldemort - and now they did this to him!

“Harry?” Simmings was at his side and grabbed hold of his arm. Harry stared at him.

“I need some air,” he said in a muffled voice, tore himself away from Simmings and rushed out through the door. He had only his thin robe on, but it was reviving to meet the cold, damp air outside. He crossed the inner court in a quick pace and was soon out of the castle where a grey landscape stretched out in front of him. There were only patches of snow left on the ground, but the lake was still covered with ice. Almost running, Harry headed for the clearing by the Forbidden Forest where he used to do his spiral exercises.

He launched himself in the air with a recklessness that was liberating and threw himself into the forest - desperate to move - running and gliding in the air alternately. Small branches whipped him in the face, but he did not care. He ravaged the forest until a thick branch split his upper lip and forced him to land, exhausted, to collect his thoughts and wipe the blood away from his mouth. When his breathing calmed down, he realised how quiet the forest was. The only sound seemed to be the beating of his own heart. Although it did not rain, his clothes were soaked from droplets that had fallen from the branches of the trees and from sweat. Doubled up, hands on his knees, Harry stared at his shoes in the soft moss. Even his socks were soaked through. When he lifted his head again, a tiny bird with mottled, brown feathers and a funny, short tail that pointed right up in the sky, scrutinised him with a glittering black eye and its head tilted to one side.

Harry started to shiver. It was difficult to estimate how much time had passed, but he realised that he should be in class. He had probably missed his first lesson of Potions with Snape - and that was just as well, he thought grimly. He would have been torn to pieces and devoured in Snape’s classroom. He wondered whether Snape was up to teaching anyhow, after receiving that punch of a headline for breakfast.

Harry reminded himself angrily of the determination not to let the press plague him this time. He had to calm down and prove his indifference to whatever absurd theories Rita Skeeter had advanced in the day’s paper. He had better get back in time for Transfiguration with Professor McGonagall and try to adopt an unconcerned air in front of the other pupils.

Harry regretted venturing out in such a reckless manner, but he had been ready to burst from anger. He collected himself and swirled up in a Spiral Case Move through the trees to find out where in the forest he had ended up. He realised that his run had taken him all the way around the lake so that he was located opposite the castle. The shortest way back would be across the lake. He made his way down to the ice-clad shore to examine the ice which seemed thick enough, although a bit wet at places.

Harry launched forward, gliding a few feet above the surface, like Professor McGonagall had taught them. He landed to stabilise and make a new launch now and then. When he had covered about half the distance to the other shore, he landed on a spot of ice that looked a darker shade of grey than the rest and to his surprise it suddenly gave way under his feet before he had time to take off again. The ice was soft and decayed and broke apart around him. He got caught with one foot in a crack, then sank down with the whole body into the shockingly cold water. He tried to launch forward to what he thought was a solid edge. The ice gave way once again, however, and he went under the surface completely. He kicked forcefully and re-emerged, gasping for air, but started to feel numb after a few seconds in the water only. He wondered how long he would stand the cold. He could not lift himself through magic - the light-weight spell did not seem to work - although he managed to Accio himself forward to a firmer edge. It was too slippery to climb and he glided back into the water again and again.

At that moment, he tensed as he felt something stroke his leg. There was some sort of creature down there. Would it help him, or would it attack? A thought of sending a Patronus away for help at the castle flickered through his mind, but he hesitated because of the attention it would cause. He did not have much strength left, though, and if he did not get up soon he would be congealed to death. Before he had made up his mind, the creature below sank its teeth into Harry’s leg and he yelled out loud of pain and started to kick in panic. Whatever it was released him, tearing at one leg of his trousers. Suddenly he was dragged down into the water with great force. He had just the time to sink the blunt end of his wand into the ice on the edge and hold back. He was on the point of being dragged down and he had no wand to point at the creature in the water. His panicking mind went to Ginny and his friends who probably sat in Professor McGonagall’s class right now and wondered where he was.

Professor McGonagall, he thought in a flash of revelation. Do magic with your feet. He concentrated, assembled his magic and sent off Stunning spells through his legs at random. After what felt like an impossibly long time, he finally realised that the presumed sea monster had stopped trying to drag him down. He sent some more Stunning spells just to be sure.

The cold had eaten its way in to the bone and he completely numb by now. He heaved his upper body over the ice edge and moved his wand to sink it into the ice again and began to drag himself up, inch by inch. Finally, he was able to roll over the edge and found himself staring up at the cloudy sky. He forced himself to sit up with difficulty, because he was so exhausted that he could easily have stayed on the cold surface for ever, but he knew it would be his death. He directed the wand at himself in an attempt to dry his clothes up with a shaky spell. Then he rose and started to stagger on the ice, avoiding the grey spots which were clearly undermined, rotten ice - perhaps some underwater creature’s breathing holes. After a while he had stabilised enough to start gliding again and he finally made it to the other shore.

When he sneaked into the Entrance Hall the only one he met was Simmings once again. He had feared that Mrs Steadfast or Snape would be waiting for him.

“Could you help me dry me up at the back, please?” muttered Harry embarrassedly to Simmings. The Auror did as he was bid with a swift spell, without asking any questions.

“I’ll do your split lip as well, it looks nasty,” said Simmings and took hold of Harry’s chin gently. Harry stood still as Simmings waved his wand over Harry’s mouth. “Can I do anything else for you, Harry?” the Auror asked quietly.

“No, thank you, I’m going back to class,” Harry said stiffly. Now that he was inside the warmth again, his teeth had started to chatter and he shivered violently.

When he entered the classroom, Professor McGonagall stood by her desk. She must have been interrogating Ron and Hermione, because Ron just sat down and Hermione let out a little yelp of relief when she saw Harry who took a few steps towards his teacher when the door flew up behind him and Snape stormed in. The Professor stopped dead when he spotted Harry.

All gazes were fixed upon him now and Harry summoned all the dignity he could master and stuttered, because his teeth were still chattering:

“I apologise for not attending class and for being late.” He glanced at Professor McGonagall first, then forced himself to meet Snape’s eyes. “I didn’t feel well and needed some air. Won’t be repeated, I’m sorry.” He bowed slightly, in the hope that Professor McGonagall would give him permission to sit down, but she just continued staring at him.

Snape eyed him from top to toe. Harry was still a bit damp in the hair and when he followed Snape’s gaze down to his leg he noticed the torn tissue of his trousers and his blood-stained skin peaking through. He discreetly took his wand out with his back to his fellow students and repaired his trouser so that the wound would not show.

“I fell into the lake,” he muttered in a low voice at his teachers.

Snape snorted angrily, turned around and vanished from the classroom as suddenly as he had appeared. The students, who seemed to have held their breaths, started to whisper to one another.

“Please sit down, Mr Potter,” said Professor McGonagall weakly. Harry limped away obediently to have a seat beside Ginny who gave him a hard and disapproving look, mixed with worry.

After class, that was just a blur to Harry, Ron told him that they had had the weirdest lesson ever with Snape that morning. Snape had looked like one of his cauldrons ready to explode, but had not said a word to them. He had thrown up a recipe of a potion on the board - an easy one according to Ron, probably for forth years or something - and gestured for them to get started. Snape had paced back and forth in the classroom the entire lesson.

“He didn’t care in the least what we were doing,” said Ron. ”He didn’t even check afterwards on our potions, but stormed out of the classroom at the end of the lesson, leaving us behind. I think he waited for you to show up for he kept throwing glances at the door.”

Harry had to make a visit to Mme Pomfrey before lunch and have the wound in his leg looked at. He might have been able to heal it himself, but he wanted to know if she could tell him what it was that had attacked him and if it might have left some poison in the wound as it had started to vibrate inside the leg in a disquieting way.

“It might have been the Kelpie,” she suggested. “But I can’t be sure.” She applied some ointment which, according to her, worked as an antidote to most poisons of underwater creatures and it felt better.

Harry dragged himself around form class to class in a daze and made himself deaf to the chit-chat around him. In the evening, in a corner of the Gryffindor common room, he finally turned to Hermione with a deep sigh.

“Tell me all about Rita Skeeter’s theories, then,” he said.

“The whole thing’s absurd, of course,” started Hermione, “but she presents it in a way that almost makes it plausible. For those who don’t know you...”

“Just tell me what she writes,” said Harry.

“Well, the article in the Daily Prophet is an abstract and a commentary on a specific chapter in Rita Skeeter’s book. In the ingress, the editor gives us the alleged reason why they plunge into this particular part of her book, which is that it has come to their knowledge that the underworld of criminal wizards is buzzing of rumours saying that an uprising heir of Voldemort’s will replace him. The Prophet claims they know that several groups believe in this rumour and are preparing for the heir to surface.”

“Those rumours make an excuse to publish the story and that’s why Rita Skeeter had to rewrite the chapter at the last minute,” said Ron.

“As to Rita Skeeter, she starts off with Snape,” Hermione went on. “She has found out that Snape’s mother, Eileen Prince, attended Hogwarts at the same time as Tom Riddle and that they were both in Slytherin. She has spoken to a witch who was a friend of Miss Prince’s at the time and this lady swears that Eileen was infatuated with Tom Riddle and she believes Eileen saw him after they had left school. There’s a letter written by Eileen Prince to her friend, published in Rita Skeeter’s book which, according to the Daily Prophet, supports the connection with Riddle. The official story, however, is that Eileen Prince had an unhappy marriage with the Muggle Tobias Snape and that she ended her life by her own hand.” Hermione made a pause to draw her breath. “But Rita Skeeter’s theory is that Snape is in fact Tom Riddle’s son.”

Harry raised an eyebrow, disbelievingly.

”There’s no evidence that Riddle, or Voldemort as he had started to call himself by then, cared for Eileen Prince or her child - not until Snape was sixteen years old,” Hermione went on. ”Skeeter has spoken to Death Eaters who confirm that Voldemort offered a sixteen-year-old Snape a place among them. Snape didn’t join until he was eighteen, however.”

Harry nodded. This concorded with what Snape himself had told Harry in the Forbidden forest before the start of term.

“Rita Skeeter’s contact among the Death Eaters stresses that Snape was treated ambiguously by Voldemort in the beginning. Voldemort didn’t lift him forward, at first, but treated him roughly and put him to tests – in the same way he did to others. Snape was even severely punished once, almost to the verge of death, as he had caused Voldemort some discontent. But he was eventually given privileges, according to her source. He was sent to the post as a teacher at Hogwarts to spy on Dumbledore and he rose several degrees in the hierarchy.”

Harry shook his head disbelievingly. He thought he knew what would come next.

“After that, Rita Skeeter brings forward the relationship between Snape and your mother. She has found out that they were brought up in the same city. She emphasises the rivalry between James Potter and Severus Snape. She concludes that Lily did marry James in the end, but not until six months before you were born. She insinuates - which means that she does not actually have proof of it - that Lily continued to see Snape from time to time after their years at Hogwarts. Rita Skeeter moves on to the undeniable fact that you are Lily Evans’ son. She speculates that when the young Death Eater Severus Snape was confronted with the possibility that he had engendered a child with a Muggle-born - which obviously would have caused Voldemort’s wrath - he left Lily and distanced himself from the whole thing.”

Harry shook his head more and more vigorously, but Hermione continued.

“Skeeter forwards the hypothesis that the reason Voldemort wanted to kill you as a baby was that he had learnt you were his grand-son and that he feared his own powers would be reiterated and surpassed in you. She asserts that this is what the Prophesy says. No proof, of course - and you know it’s a lie - the Prophesy said nothing of the kind, from what you’ve told us. But Rita Skeeter stresses, as a conspicuous sign, the prominent position Snape was given when Voldemort came back. Her Death Eater source swears that Snape was Voldemort’s protégé, his right hand. Snape was pronounced Headmaster of Hogwarts and given all the privileges of a presumptive heir.”

“Rubbish,” Harry spat out. “Voldemort counted on having deceived death with his horcruxes. He was not interested in an heir! Her source is some Death Eater who is jealous of Snape!”

“Well, Rita Skeeter claims that Voldemort and Snape were in it together to destroy you, but emphasises the obsession of Voldemort to kill you by his own hands. He wouldn’t let Snape kill you, even if he had numerous occasions to do so. Finally, when Voldemort reached the conclusion that Snape had become the master of the Elder Wand by killing Dumbledore - which was all a misconception and you proved it to him, Harry - however, that discovery made Voldemort furious, according to Rita Skeeter. Voldemort suspected Snape of wanting to surpass him and of deceiving him and therefore decided to kill Snape before he killed you. She also allows for the possibility that Snape allied himself with you in the end to destroy Voldemort. The conclusion is that she cannot make up her mind, at present, whether Snape and you work together and await the right moment to seize power and arise jointly as the new Dark wizards of our time, or if you hate each other and watch each other in order to destroy one another.” Hermione stopped and no one said anything for some time.

“Are you okay, Harry?” Ginny finally asked in a small voice. Harry drew a deep breath and looked at her.

“Yeah... I guess I am, actually. I’ve been through this once before, remember? You recall our second year, when everyone believed I was the heir of Slytherin? They might have made me doubt my own identity then, as an insecure twelve-year-old, but I know who I am now and I’m definitely no heir of Voldemort’s! I’m the son of James and Lily Potter - and that’s it!” He made a pause. “Did it say anything about James in the article? The lay-out of the photographs seemed to imply...”

“Yes, I forgot to tell you. Rita Skeeter didn’t make much of it, but she allowed for the possibility of James being Voldemort’s son as an alternative to Snape. In either case you would be Voldemort’s grand-son and the threatening heir. The newspaper chose to make more of James as an alternative, in order not to point Snape out over-explicitly, I’d say. The editor in chief of the Daily Prophet makes sure not to take sides in the issue and to emphasise that Rita Skeeter is no longer an employee at the newspaper. She’s an independent writer who advances her personal theories, but – hey! They give her two whole spreads in the paper to say pretty much whatever she wants. Rita Skeeter prefers Snape over James Potter, however, as Voldemort’s son. Prefers a living prey, I’d say. She probably wants to be able to influence the impending inquiries. She might even want to be the one who overthrows Snape from Hogwarts.”

“Well, if her source is some old Death Eater pal of Snape’s who wants to destroy him that’s not surprising. Skeeter will have an agreement with that bloke and there will be a mutual interest in undermining Snape’s credentials,” said Ron. He hesitated and continued: “Harry, are you sure that Snape is not susceptible to be... you know, to be a threat to you? Are you still sure he’s on our side?”

“Yes,” Harry said shortly. “Rita Skeeter’s argumentation contains a lot of misconceptions, not to say down-right lies - and I know what I know and what I’ve seen about Snape.”

“The part about Snape’s mother and Tom Riddle is striking, though,” said Ginny slowly.

“Yes, that’s what the whole line of argumentation is based upon,” said Hermione. “So, what do we do?”

“We weather out the storm,” Harry said grimly.