Severus pressed the tip of his wand to the velvet rope blocking the aisle he needed. After a moment to check his magic, the rope grudging unravelled for him. Stepping past it, Severus paused to flick a quick spell over his shoulder. The inside of Flourish and Blotts might be marginally safer than the bustle of Diagon Alley, but after running into Lucius Malfoy, Severus wasn’t taking any chances. Albus really would kill him if he lost the bra— the bo— Potter now, when they were so close to the start of the new school year. Insane house-elves were bad enough; Severus didn’t want to risk Death Eaters too.

Satisfied that he would be alerted the instant Potter got into trouble, Severus strode down the aisle to the section on wards. The Hogwarts elves might be able to remove the wards this time around, but he wouldn’t be able to rely on them after that and would need something else for next year.

It took him, however, four attempts before he found a book that even mentioned house-elves, and even that result was not exactly encouraging. “Many wards currently exist that claim to be able to ward against house-elves; and to some extent, these do work. Unfortunately, not much is known about how house-elf magic works, and it has been proven that elves who are elderly or not quite right in the mind are able to circumnavigate even wards specifically against elves due to their ability to twist their masters’ orders in a justification of intention that meets the wards’ specifications. As of the date of writing this book, no-one has yet managed to find a way to block a determined – or demented – house-elf. The theory has been put forward that perhaps goblin magic may work, but as this wouldn’t benefit them in any way then the goblin nation have not been willing to test this. The best thing to do is to use the Hillman-Prachett ward, which is at least guaranteed to ward against anything else—”

Growling in displeasure, Severus barely restrained himself from slamming the book closed. How typical of Potter to attract a house-elf that was obviously “not right in the head”. Scowling, Severus placed the book back on the shelf. He was absolutely determined now to create a ward that would work against even the battiest of house-elves. He just needed to think. Obviously warding against bad intentions wouldn’t work, and nor would trying to ward against elf magic. Perhaps physically...? he wondered. That would be very tricky, as how would he manage to find what made an elf physically an elf to ward against?

I shall have to discuss the matter with Filius and Albus, he thought, making his way further down the aisle in case there were any other books that might be marginally more helpful. Possibly Minerva, too. Kettleburn works with creatures; how much help could he give...

Lost in thought as to how he could distil the essence of a house-elf, Severus continued to wander.

After several minutes of uncomfortable silence, while he and Neville awkwardly avoided catching the other’s gaze, Harry finally remembered what Snape had actually brought him to the shop for and that he was still holding his book list in his hand.

“Want to help me find our books for next year?” he offered, holding the parchment out so Neville could see it.

“Sure,” the other Gryffindor agreed, nodding his head. “I’ve already got mine – Gran had the shops owl them as soon as the list arrived – but I can help you find them!”

“They can do that so quickly?” Harry asked, curiously.

Neville shrugged. “I think most of the teachers use the same books, so Flourish and Blotts know most of the ones to get already.” He suddenly brightened. “Look, there’s the one for Herbology!”

Harry picked one up and tucked it under his arm, then consulted his list again. A thought struck him as he read over the books he’d need. “Wow, our new Defence professor sure likes this Lockhart,” he said to Neville. “Look at all the books by him we’ve got to get!”

“Really?” Neville leaned over to study the list over Harry’s shoulder. “I haven’t had a chance to really look mine over yet, but I’m fairly sure there were more than Gran was expecting.”

Harry swiftly counted, then gave a low whistle. “Seven!” he said in astonishment. “I think I’d better leave them till last; there’s no way I could carry all of those for long!”

Neville was glancing around the corner they were standing in. “Where are they, anyway?” he asked. “I can’t see anything that looks like a set of books.”

“Hmm.” Harry looked carefully at the books surrounding them. Neville was right; he couldn’t see anything that looked like a set of one author’s books either. “Guess if we can’t find them once we need them, I’ll just have to ask Sn—” His voice cut out as a thought occurred to him. “Um, Neville,” he began, tentatively, “I don’t want you to freak out or anything—”

“What? Why?” Neville immediately went pale, and cast a frantic glance around them. “What is it? It’s not Snape, is it?”

“Uh...” Harry winced. “Not right now, but . . . he’s been acting as my guardian over the summer, so he’s the one who brought me to Diagon Alley today . . .”

“What?!” squeaked Neville, and seemed to go even paler. “You’ve been living with Professor Snape?!”

Harry hastily put a hand on Neville’s shoulder, both to keep him from bolting straight out of the shop and to be halfway to catching him if the other boy fainted. “Yeah, but it hasn’t actually been that bad,” he assured his classmate. He paused, thought of how his summers with the Dursleys usually went. “It’s actually been fairly good,” he added.

Neville didn’t look convinced. “He – he hasn’t been making you scrub cauldrons, or-or pickle ingredients, o-or . . . anything like that?”

“Nope,” Harry said. “He actually taught me how to check items for curses, gave me a present and took me to the cinema for my birthday, told me stuff about my mum—”

“Ohh,” Neville breathed, suddenly, looking much happier. “You’re joking with me! Ha ha, Harry, very funny.”

What? “What?” Harry repeated his thought out loud. “Um, no, Neville, honestly, I really—”

“Wait till I tell Dean and Seamus about how you got me,” Neville interrupted, seemingly not listening anymore.

Sighing, Harry shook his head. He just hoped that Neville’s Gran had collected him before Snape emerged from the aisles, otherwise the boy was in for a nasty surprise.

It was later than Severus had planned when he finally reached the end of the last book that could have helped his efforts. The spell on Potter hadn’t been triggered, so hopefully he’d find the boy right where he’d left him – and hopefully with a pile of books all ready to go.

Letting himself out of the aisle, he gave a brief nod to Augusta Longbottom, who was sailing past with her grandson in tow. He was quite thankful when the dowager witch just sniffed at him in response, although the boy himself went pale and squeaked in fright. He wasn’t certain he would have had anything to say if she’d wanted a report on the Longbottom boy’s prowess in potions. Blithering idiot would have been about the kindest description, and he was certain that Augusta wouldn’t take well to that at all.

Then again, he mused, as the sound of her voice berating the boy drifted over to him as the pair exited Flourish and Blotts, maybe it’s the kindest description she’d use, too.

Severus frowned to himself at that thought. Longbottom was an absolute disaster in his class, but he didn’t think the boy was quite that bad elsewhere. Admittedly, Filius and Minerva had both complained to Albus about the fact that Longbottom’s wand was not a good fit for him (it had been his father’s wand, the rumour went; apparently Augusta had insisted that the boy use it), but that was hardly his fault, and Pomona always praised his way with the plants in her Herbology class.

Perhaps we need to have a word with Albus about that situation, Severus thought as he turned towards where he’d left Potter earlier. The boy was standing in the middle of the corner, a pile of books cradled in his arms, and frowning at the various stacks of books around him.

“Problem, Potter?” asked Severus. He was not in any way amused by the squeak of surprise the boy gave.

“Sir!” Potter gasped, as he juggled the books to keep from dropping them as he spun round to face Severus.

“I take it you found everything on your list?” Severus raised an eyebrow.

A look of confusion flashed across Potter’s face. “Not quite, sir,” he said. “I can’t find the ones by this Gilderoy Lockhart.”

Severus suppressed a sigh. He was actually a bit surprised that the entire stack wasn’t underneath a self-proclaiming banner, but maybe that was being held until Lockhart’s signing the next week. “Come along, we’ll ask at the counter,” he told Potter.

“Um, sir?” Potter said, hesitantly, as he scrambled to follow Severus. “How will I be paying for these? We haven’t visited Gringotts yet...”

“The cashier will manage it,” Severus said. “If you don’t have the coins to hand—” Because some families didn’t have the coins “—then the cashier will mark off your booklist, which will automatically take the funds from Hogwarts’ vault, and the school will then claim it back from your own vault.” If the family had a vault to claim back from, of course. Severus’ mother hadn’t had one; most of Severus’ school items had been her old hand-me-downs...

“Good afternoon, sir!” the witch behind the counter chirped. Severus internally winced. She was far too perky for this time of the day – or for any time. He suspected a heavy-handed dose of a Cheering Charm. “Did you find everything you were after?”

Potter slid his armful of books onto the counter. “Almost, ma’am,” he said to the witch, whose smile got impossibly brighter as she beamed at him. “I just need the books by Gilderoy Lockhart. Could you tell me where they are, please?”

“Of course, Mr Po—” The witch caught sight of Severus’ sudden glare, and stumbled over her words. “I-I m-mean, sir, of course, sir.” She gave an awkward cough to clear her throat. “I’ll just . . . get those for you.” Clearing her throat again, she hastily ducked through a door behind the counter.

Potter gave Severus a quick, confused glance over his shoulder, before realisation struck and he turned away again, hunching his shoulders.

Interesting, Severus thought, even as the witch returned, dropping a pile of books onto the counter next to the others. She briefly wiped her forehead before taking Potter’s book list and beginning to mark off each book with a tap of her wand. Potter watched avidly, as the title of each book scrawled itself onto a blank bit of parchment beside her, a bright green check mark appearing at the end of each one.

“There we are!” the witch chirped, once the last of the Lockhart books had been done. “All sorted! Will there be anything else, gentlemen?”

“No.” Severus scowled at the thought – he’d hoped to find at least one book that could have helped him to improve his wards against house-elves – but the witch seemed to take it personally, and shrank back, her smile finally dimming. Severus ignored her, and tapped his wand on the piles of books to shrink them. “Come along, Podraig,” he said, handing the items to Potter.

The boy peered in delight at the books for a moment, which nestled in the palm of one hand, before tipping them neatly into a pocket and following Severus out of the shop.

“You have everything from the list?” Severus queried. He did not want to have to make a third trip to Diagon Alley.

“Yessir!” Potter replied, nodding. He pulled his list out of his pocket to check again, then nodded again, more firmly.

“Good. Then we’re heading back to the house,” Severus informed him, and took a firm grip on Potter’s shoulder. “Hopefully with no more house-elves,” he muttered sourly.

“No, sir!” Potter agreed, fervently, right before Severus Apparated them away from the Alley.