Harry's friends were no longer clinging to each other as they had the night before, though they spent the weekend playing games and catching up with each other. As the weekend wore on, it was as if nothing had happened at all on the train ride to school.

They could have no idea that over the weekend Dumbledore had gone to the Ministry to make his displeasure known to the Minister of Magic about the incident on the train, or that Sunday night Fudge had come to Hogwarts to tell Dumbledore that the Dementors would be stationed around the perimeter of the school until Black was caught. Dumbledore had yelled so loud and towered so tall over Fudge that the man flinched back as though he might be struck by a stray bit of angry magic. Harry heard about the encounter months later from Snape, and thought for years afterwards that he would have quite liked to see Dumbledore be so angry with the Minister. Harry and the other students didn't find out about the Dementor's permanent residence at Hogwarts until Monday morning at breakfast however.

Dumbledore rose to address them before they went to class, and said in a serious tone, "I have been informed that the Ministry has stationed dementors around the perimeter of the school grounds. As unfortunate as this is, I have no say in the matter since they are off of school property. From this point forward, until I say otherwise, the school's perimeter is off limits to all students. You may still go to the Quidditch Pitch, Hagrid's cabin, and down to the edge of the lake closest to the castle, but you are to go no further. The Dementors are evil creatures that are searching for an escaped convict. Give them no reason to come near you, or to suspect you of any wrongdoing."

Dumbledore sat and murmurs broke out across the Great Hall as students drank their orange juice and finished their eggs, toast and oatmeal.

"For the entire year?" Hermione asked. "I wonder if it means we won't be allowed to go to Hogsmeade."

"I was really looking forward to that," Ron said. "Mum signed my permission slip right off at the start of summer before we left for Egypt."

"I wonder if they're placing the Dementors on Diagonalley too."

Harry shook his head. "No one would shop there if they did," he said, and he really hoped they weren't placing Dementors in Diagonalley. A horrible thought struck him then, and he suddenly lost his appetite.

"‘S wrong?" Ron asked, mouth full of toast.

"After what happened this summer... with Sirius, and me... you don't think they sent the Dementors to follow me to school hoping to catch him?"

"Oh Harry, no," Hermione said, but she stopped for a moment to really think about it.

"I was riding the train, and the Dementors came on board. Now I'm at school for the term, and the Dementors are here for the term."

"There's no way," Ron said. "They would have had them on you all summer if that had been the case."

"I'm sure Ron's right," Hermione said.

Harry wasn't so sure though, and he hoped Sirius was far away from the school. He also hoped the Dementors didn't stick around for the entire year, because he didn't want to be responsible for the way they made people feel.

"They'll be staying off school grounds," Ron tried to reassure him. "Dumbledore said so. They won't even bother us. We probably won't see them at all."

"I hope you're right," Ginny said down the table. "They're ghastly." Harry couldn't agree more.

* * *

No one but his friends appeared to know he'd spent the rest of his summer at the castle, or that there had even been a trial over the summer, or that Dumbledore was supposed to spend time with him or that Harry had any connection to Snape at all aside from that of student and teacher.

Ron wondered out loud what Potions would be like now as they went about their day, attending Transfiguration and Charms, and Defense Against The Dark Arts with the new professor, but they would have to wait until Tuesday to find out.

Harry still wasn't quite sure what to make of Professor Snape. Sometimes the man still thought the worst of him, though he had allowed Harry to go on holiday with the orphanage, and had allowed him to continue going to the alleys before school started. Aside from having to take Harry places occasionally however, he now seemed content to ignore him. Harry rarely spoke with him while staying in his quarters, and there had been some days where he never crossed paths with the man at all, as he was out when Harry woke and either gone or locked in his own room when Harry returned to the quarters for the evening. Harry still didn't know much about the man either aside from his vitriolic tongue lashings and sour disposition towards anything involving Harry.

On the other hand Harry had started to learn all kinds of interesting things about his other Professors through his chats with them. He'd learned a lot about McGonagall just in the few hours of their last minute trip to London to run errands before school started.

He'd also learned quite a few things about the Headmaster in their once weekly day together. Harry rarely spoke to him or had full conversations, but the aging Headmaster didn't seem to mind and filled the silence on his own most of the time. Harry had not had a day out with him the previous week because he'd been so busy, and he imagined the same was true of the Headmaster. Now that school was back in and he wasn't technically in anyone's ‘care' he wondered if the weekly visits would continue or be dropped. Harry wasn't sure how he felt about that either. The visits had been awkward at times, though he couldn't deny that he liked going to the Qidditch Expo or out to Hogsmeade to have tea. He didn't see the point to the visits at all so long as he wasn't living with the Dursleys, and he got the impression that Snape thought Harry was wasting the Headmaster's time as well.

"What do you reckon Harry?"

"Hm?" He turned to Ron, who was watching him from across the table in the common room. They were working on the homework they'd been given after their first day of classes.

"About Snape? He gonna be yelling and griping through class tomorrow like normal?"

Hermione rolled her eyes as she tried hard to ignore the conversation and Harry shrugged. "No idea. He'll probably ignore me. I rarely see him anyway."

The next morning they had Care of Magical Creatures first off with Hagrid, and Harry was both uncertain and in awe of the Thestrals Hagrid had brought into the paddock near his cabin to teach them about. Harry was the first to be able to approach one of the Thestrals, and he felt proud of himself, but the feeling was dampened when Hagrid reminded him that Dementors were nearby patrolling the edge of the Forbidden Forest.

"I woulda liked teh have let yeh ride him," Hagrid leaned down to tell Harry so only he could hear, "but yeh gotta stay close if yeh know what I mean." He titled his head in the direction of the deeper part of the forest and Harry looked into the shadows that loomed there. He could have sworn he saw movement. He shuddered and looked away. It could have been anything from acromantulas to centaurs, but he had a cold feeling that told him it wasn't either of those possibilities.

They were distracted a moment later by a shout and a scream, and turned to find Malfoy lying on the ground holding his arm, one of the Thestrals standing over him. "I've been killed! That thing has killed me!"

Hagrid lumbered over to him and looked at the arm. There was a scratch but it wasn't deep. "It's not broken. Let's get yeh up." He lifted Draco up as if Draco weighed nothing at all and dusted him off. Draco pouted that Hagrid hadn't fawned over him and his scratches, but said nothing else. "At the end of class if it's still botherin' yeh, I'll take yeh ter Madam Pomfrey," Hagrid said, and went to work with a group of girls who were petting a black Thestral at the other end of the paddock.

A few of the Slytherin girls came over to see Draco's injury but Draco looked embarassed more than anything else that he'd made a big deal over superficial scratches, and said, "It's nothing, I'm fine," and strode off to sit on a stump at the edge of the area they were working in. He did nothing for the rest of class but stare silently at the rest of the students having a good time. Harry didn't get anything done for the last half hour of class either though, because he was too busy watching the edges of the trees for a shadow that was hoping to suck the happiness out of him again.

They had Potions next, and Harry stopped thinking about the Dementors for only a moment to see how things would go for him that year in Snape's class. He sat at a table with Ron and Hermione as he usually did somewhere near the middle of the room. Snape came in and lectured for twenty minutes before setting them to work brewing a burn salve, and then went to Draco's table to inquire about his torn robe.

"That was it then?" Ron asked, not used to an encounter with Snape that didn't end with Harry in detention or getting snarked at. "I told you, he'll probably ignore me," Harry said. He set to work on his own burn salve, though his mind began to drift to the Dementors again, and to the green light and screams of his mother as she died trying to protect him. He didn't register Snape making his way around the room and to his work bench, or that he wasn't as far along in his brewing as the rest of the class until Snape cleared his throat. Harry looked up and didn't find a sneer, but the man's words were still stern.

"With the level of intelligence you showed this summer in your business endeavors, one would have thought your grades would be higher than they are. If you don't pay attention during class your potential will continue to be wasted." He did frown at Harry then and moved off to talk to Dean about the shade of his potion.

"Knew it was too good to be true," Ron said. "He didn't need to insult you like that. Your potion looks fine."

Harry realized how far behind he was as he looked at Ron and Hermione's potions and hurried to catch up. What had Snape meant, ‘wasted potential?' Did that mean the man thought Harry had potential or was he just looking for a reason to get onto him in class and to embarrass him like he always did?

He ended up finishing his potion just before class was over, and turned it in with the rest. He was still absorbed in thoughts about the Dementors however as he followed Ron and Hermione out of the room, and didn't see Snape watching him as he left.

* * *

The first week saw Harry and his friends getting through all of their classes without any more indication that Dementors were stationed nearby. Students talked less and less about them and about the train ride to school, and began to settle into a comfortable routine of classes, meals, homework and spending time with friends. Harry occasionally heard people talking about Sirius and his escape from Azkaban, and several times he heard people talking about their trip down Knocturn, but the alleys and Sirius too seemed to grow further away from him as the week wore on. He had three essays to complete by Sunday night, and Quidditch was supposed to start Monday afternoon after classes were over for the day.

At lunch on Saturday afternoon a note appeared by Harry's plate at Gryffindor table and he opened it to find Dumbledore's loopy script. ‘Harry, I wonder if we might meet for tea and dinner this evening in my office.'

He looked up at the Head Table and found Dumbledore watching him and gave a little nod.

"I won't be at dinner tonight," Harry told Ron as they played chess later that afternoon.

"Not hungry?" Ron swooped across the board with his queen and knocked Harry's rook clean off the board.

"I'm supposed to meet Dumbledore."

"Oh. Are you in trouble or just the weekly thing?"

"I don't think I'm in trouble."

"How does that work anyhow? Is Snape gonna be there?"

"No," Harry said, and he was glad he would be coming back to Gryfifndor tower instead of going to Snape's quarters after the meeting. Dumbledore liked to send Harry away with a piece of cake, or candy, or a trinket when they parted ways, and Snape always watched what Harry brought back with him. He hadn't made any more comments recently about Harry's things, or making Dumbledore be nice to him, but Harry was certain he was thinking about it.

When his friends headed down to dinner that evening, Harry crossed the third floor alone and made his way to the statue guarding Dumbledore's office. He didn't know the current password, but said, "Lemon cake," and watched as the statue hopped aside. The man must not have changed the password since the term started. Up the moving staircase, Harry knocked on the solid wood door, and it opened a moment later to give him entrance.

"Harry, please come in," Dumbledore said, rising from his desk. "We didn't get our chance to spend the day together last week, and I thought we could catch up over dinner."

"Yes sir," Harry said, wondering if they would eat at his desk. He didn't see any food, though with Dumbledore the man could have been planning to eat a bowl of candy instead.

The Headmaster motioned for Harry to follow him and led him through a door Harry usually didn't pay attention to in the side of the circular room. The door opened to reveal a small landing, with a few steps leading up to a sitting room, and a few steps leading down to what may have been a bedroom. They went up the short set of stairs to the round sitting room and from here Harry was able to see a round dining room and kitchenette off to the left, and a round office straight ahead. There were other doors, and Harry wondered if they led to a bathroom or other bedrooms or out to the fourth floor or hidden passageways.

"Have a seat," the Headmaster offered, leading Harry into the dining room. It was larger than Snape's and had a nice round mahogany table with a lot of carved details around the edges and one massive spindly leg that held it up underneath in the center.

There was a roast chicken in the center of the table surrounded with carrots, broccoli and potatoes, and a fresh plate of chocolate chip cookies with steam rising off of them to the side. Harry sat down and the Headmaster sat across from him and began serving himself.

"How did your first week of school go dear boy?"

"Fine sir."

"Are you enjoying your classes?"

Harry nodded.

"What do you think of your new Defense Professor?"

"He seems nice," Harry said. Harry actually rather appreciated the man. He was leagues better than Lockhart had been, and so far didn't seem to have Voldemort sticking out the back of his head, so he had a lot going for him. "He knows a lot about interesting things the other Defense Professors never told us. We spent the first two classes going over old material to make sure we were in a good spot to move into harder stuff he said."

"Wonderful," Dumbledore said. "Professor Lupin is highly intelligent and resourceful. We are happy to have him on board for the year."

"It's too bad he'll be gone next year," Harry said after swallowing a bite of the delicious garlic chicken.

"Oh?"

"Because the position is cursed?"

Dumbledore chuckled. "It would seem to be wouldn't it? Who do the students say placed the curse? It seems to differ from year to year."

"Erm..." Harry wasn't sure he should say, but Dumbledore gave him an encouraging look and he said, "Professor Snape."

"Really? I wonder why."

"Fred said Professor Snape wanted to teach Defense and cursed it so every professor teaching it would leave. George said Professor Snape would remove the curse once he got the position."

Dumbledore stared at Harry for a moment and then laughed out loud. Harry had never seen him laugh outright like this, and it fascinated him. He wasn't used to seeing adults so happy, aside from maybe Silver and the Flourish brothers.

"You never disappoint me Harry," he said as his laugh calmed into a chuckle.

With all the trouble Harry had gotten into or caused over the last couple of years, he thought the Headmaster was wrong, or would be in the future. Harry always dissappointed adults. It was an inevitability.

When dinner was finished, Dumbledore poured tea for them both (strong licorice with a lot of sugar), and they had some of the cookies.

"Would you prefer to spend a day with me every weekend Harry, or to have a few meals with me over the course of the week? I know you'll soon be busy with your friends and Quidditch and don't want to impose on your schedule."

Harry looked up from his tea. "I didn't think you'd want to continue once school started. Since I'm not in care of my relatives or Snape I mean. I thought you'd be busy."

"I will always make time for you, whether you just want to have a chat or wish to spend time with me." When Dumbledore grew serious and said things like this to him it made him uncomfortable for a lot of reasons. Harry knew the man was lying that he wouldn't be too busy for one, even Snape thought so. For two, Harry didn't know what to do with an adult who didn't seem to mind his presence if there wasn't work, chores, or school work involved.

"Meals I guess," Harry said. "I mean, if that's what you prefer sir."

"I think that's a splendid idea Harry. Would you have breakfast with me tomorrow then? We could perhaps do breakfast Sundays, lunch Wednesday, and Dinner Fridays or Saturdays, if you're not too busy."

"I won't be," Harry said.

A few minutes later Dumbledore gave Harry the rest of the plate of cookies, and Harry left to go back to the common room. He got there just before Ron and Hermione returned from dinner in the Great Hall, and he shared the cookies with the two of them and gave the last one to Ginny, who gave him a look he couldn't decipher.

"How did it go?" Hermione asked.

Harry described the new plan for three meals a week, so his friends would know not to expect him if he didn't show up for certain meals on those days, and while Ron thought the entire situation as odd as Harry did, Hermione seemed pleased.

"I would love if I could have a few meals a week with my parents," she said. "I miss them terribly during the term."

"Maybe you could ask to go home," Ron told her.

"If they let me, they would have to let everybody," she said.

Fred and George had been listening to their conversation and came over to sit at the table they were studying at in the corner of the common room. "Are you talking about going home during the term for a visit?" George asked. "Term only just started. They don't usually allow that until nearer Christmas."

"What'dya mean?" Ron asked, frowning at his brothers. "No one gets to go home early."

"Sometimes kids have things they have to do at home," Fred told him. "Family get-togethers, funerals, sick family to visit, you know, that sort of thing. They let kids go home for that stuff so long as it isn't all the time."

"And sometimes if someone is really homesick or struggling with grades or something," George said, "They let a kid go home for the weekend for that too so long as it's ok with their parents. Bill had to go home once a couple weeks before Easter. Don't you remember Ron?"

"I forgot all about that," Ron said. "I don't even know how old I was. I thought he came home to see me."

"You were probably four or five," George said. "Bill was a fourth year and he was failing three classes because he'd had a big row with his friends and couldn't concentrate on schoolwork. They let him go home for a weekend and when he went back to school it was like a fresh start and all his grades came back up."

"And if you're just being naughty," Fred teased, "they let your parents come to you like when Charlie shouted at Professor McGonagall and mum had to come tell him off. Surprised she didn't come to school to tell you off last year after taking the car Ron."

Ron's cheeks reddened remembering the howler his mother had sent instead. He wasn't sure if her coming would have been worse or not.

"Just ask McGonagall if you want a weekend at home," George advised Hermione. "No harm in asking, even if she says no. Bet she won't though with how good your grades are."

They left Harry and his friends to their homework then and went up to their dormitory.

"Are you going to ask?" Ron asked her.

"Maybe later in the term. It's only been a week," she said. "I don't miss them quite that much just yet."

"Maybe you should get a shared journal," Harry said, "like the one Justin and I have. Then you could talk to them every day."

"Do you talk to Justin every day?" Ron asked.

"No," Harry said. They had Herbology and Charms together and sat together then, but he hadn't even checked the journal since they'd returned to school since it was for business stuff. Maybe he should start checking it just in case. It was empty when he checked it later that evening though. Nothing new had been written since shortly after the trial had ended.

* * *

Harry always looked forward to Quiddich. If he got muddy during practice, came in soaking wet after a game in the rain, or even if he got hit with a Bludger, he didn't care. Win or lose, flying and dodging balls, and the feeling of triumph he got from catching the Snitch meant everything to him. It was the freedom he had never known at the Dursleys and the accomplishment he'd never been allowed to have or strive for in primary school. It was the one thing Harry truly felt good at and felt really proud of himself for, so he looked forward to practices starting again on Monday.

A slightly cool breeze and the smell of fresh air greeted him as he walked with Fred and George to the pitch after classes Monday afternoon. He laughed at all the twin's jokes as they walked, listened intently as the team Captain told them about the new maneuvers they would be practicing that term in the changing rooms, and revelled in the way his stomach dropped as he twisted and dove after the Snitch in the warmth of the evening sunlight. Practice had been good, and it had left him breathless with joy by the time it was over.

Harry was the last out of the changing rooms, and found the others had already left to head back to the castle for dinner. Harry walked back to the castle alone with his book bag and broom over his shoulder, thinking about how much he had missed the open grounds of Hogwarts during his summer on the alleys. The cool breeze grew cooler as the sun went down, and Harry began to feel chilled. He'd have to start bringing his sweatshirt with him for evenings. He would hate to have to practice after dinner like the Slytherins did Monday nights, and always thought that as winter approached it would be far too cold to do so, but it was the time slot they seemed to prefer.

Harry rubbed his arms as goosebumps started to form and frowned. It shouldn't be this cold. It wasn't even six yet and the sun hadn't fully set. Harry loved this time of evening when everything turned shades of orange from the sun being low in the sky.

The hair on the back of his neck and arms stood up and Harry felt like he was being followed. He turned but there was no one behind him. Fred and George were up the path quite a ways and were paying no attention to him. As he hurried to catch up to them, thinking if he jogged or sprinted he could make it back to the castle just as they did, he heard a crunch and looked down to see what he'd stepped on. He'd stepped on frost. Frost? The frost on the grass was turning to ice, and Harry was confused as darkness seemed to close in on his eyes, as if the sun had gone down early and it was hard to see in the last remnant of light. But there was still an orange glow to everything around him. It was the last thing Harry remembered thinking before the darkness engulfed him. An oily feeling was in the air, and a high cruel laugh. Then his mother was screaming, and her screams were snuffed out by a blinding green light. His forehead seared with pain and he couldn't breath. The darkness was pressing on his chest, and in that moment he felt like he was familiar with death. Only, he wasn't dying. Fred was calling his name and shaking him hard, and George was saying something with a shaky voice in the background.

"C'mon, let's carry him."

"Bugger me for not studying long enough to have that featherlight charm down yet."

Harry's head lolled momentarily as one of the twins lifted him from behind the arms and then as the other tried to keep him standing. His eyes cracked open to find that the evening sunlight had returned to it's warm glow, and that there wasn't a cool breeze at all. It was warm out just like during practice, but Harry felt none of the joy he had when practice had ended.

"There he is," Fred said. "Keep him standing, we gotta move."

"Harry?" George said, voice shaking. "All right?"

Harry's mind was foggy, but less so than it had been on the train the first time the Dementors had come. "Dementors?" he asked. Things were coming back to him fairly quickly, but it was disorienting. He couldn't piece together if someone had died now, or if it was a memory. He'd felt death, but was sure it wasn't his own. He'd felt like the air was oily and heavy, but it didn't feel like that now.

He let Fred and George support him for a few more steps and then shrugged them away, stumbled, and continued walking on his own shaky legs. His hands were shaking too. The twins didn't look much better, and both looked scared.

"You scared the hell out of us," Fred said. "We heard you shout, turned around in time to see you fall to the grass, and then saw a Dementor coming down on top of you. George ran shouting at it and tried to cast a patronus."

"A what?" Harry noted George looked a lot worse than Fred did.

"A spell we looked up the other night. It keeps Dementors away. We don't have it down yet though. George about fell over top of you when he got there, but the Dementor must have thought it wasn't worth the trouble after he got a wisp of a patronus out."

"It was awful," George said. "We need to tell McGonagall one came on the grounds."

Fred nodded, looking grim as they hurried up the front steps and into the castle.

Everyone had just gone into the Great Hall for dinner, so it was going to be easy to find McGonagall or another teacher. Harry just wanted to sit down before he fell down, but thought the Great Hall was further than he wanted to walk. The three of them made the open doors to the Great Hall where happy chatter and the sound of cutlery clinking on plates drifted out. It only took a moment for Hagrid to notice them at the entrance, and at the pale looks on their faces he said, "Per'fessor Dumbledore," and pointed at the trio.

Dumbledore and McGonagall were at their sides faster than Harry really realized what was going on and led them out into the Entrance Hall where McGongall made the three of them sit on the steps leading to the first floor.

"It was a dementor Professor," Fred said. "Harry and George got the worst of it."

Dumbledore knelt next to Harry as quickly as his aging knees would allow and pulled his chin up to examine his eyes and face. Harry looked into his eyes, but was still trying to clear the remnants of the fog from his mind.

"Were you near the boundaries?" McGonagall asked, looking over Fred and George for any visible injuries.

"No maam, we were coming back from Quidditch. We made a beeline for the front doors. We heard Harry shout and turned and saw a dementor coming down on him. George got a wisp of a patronus out. It wasn't much but I think it scared it off."

"To the Hospital Wing with all three of you," Dumbledore said, and pushed himself up to stand again with some difficulty. Fred helped George and Harry up and McGonagall led them up the stairs to the Hospital Wing. They met Madam Pomfrey on the way as she was just on her way to dinner. She didn't even ask what had happened as she led the boys back to the Hospital Wing.

After a quick exam while McGonagall relayed the story to her, she gave each boy a full bar of chocolate and told them they couldn't leave until they ate it all. Harry noted there was a cupboard full of chocolate bars and jars of hot chocolate powder where once it had been full of cold potions.

Before Harry could leave Dumbledore came into the Hospital Wing to check on the three of them again, though he stood in front of Harry and put his hand on Harry's shoulder as he spoke with Pomfrey and McGonagall.

"George," he said, "I'm awarding you 25 points for saving a younger student and keeping the dementor away. I will also be sending a letter of commendation for your actions to your parents. However," here he leveled a look at the three boys, "none of you are to place yourselves in danger for this purpose again."

"But sir," Fred said, "we couldn't let it get him."

"I appreciate that," Dumbledore told him. "I also appreciate the extra effort the two of you took to even look up the advanced spell needed to protect yourselves. Until you have the spell mastered however, it would be unwise to make such a rash move again. Your recklessness is understood but not encouraged."

"Yes sir," Fred said, and when Dumbledore looked at the other two, Harry and George echoed the words as well. Harry for one didn't think he would risk coming near a dementor again for any reason.

Dumbledore asked again if Harry was all right before he let him go, and Harry nodded. The three of them went to dinner and only caught the last ten minutes of it, scarfing their food down as they tried to tell the others what had happened to keep them so late.

Harry wanted to huddle next to his friends as they had all done that first night after the incident on the train, but Ron and Hermione hadn't been attacked this time and Harry felt it would be odd to seek such comfort from them. He ended up spending the rest of the evening sitting by the fire and staring into the flames as he pretended to study.

* * *

He was buried under a thousand pounds of darkness, and it filled his lungs with water. Where was he again? Hogwarts? But school seemed so far away. Harry could feel arms around him holding him tightly and could sense death and heavy oily air. The person holding him turned to run, and he could hear a taunting voice as boots came up the stairs after them. He didn't know what the voice following them said, but he knew it was mocking her. It was mocking his mother for trying to protect him. She slammed a door, but there was an explosion of sound, of shattering wood. "Not my Harry," she told him, and set him down on something soft. He still couldn't see anything until she screamed and the green light came and blinded him. Then his scar seared. There was no one to wake him now, no one to save him, so he couldn't wake up. Harry passed out.

His mouth was dry when he woke. The sun was blinding him and he didn't know how long he'd been out. There wasn't a dementor in sight. He rubbed his eyes and forced himself to sit up. Looking at his watch Harry realized he'd only been out for a minute, maybe two or three. He'd been on his way out of Herbology in the greenhouses and had stopped to talk to Proessor Sprout, who had asked him if he owned any reputable Herbologist shops or greenhouses. He didn't know but told her he would look through his papers and find out. Hermione had been anxious to get to Charms early because she had questions for Professor Flitwick about their upcoming test, and had dragged Ron off without Harry. The dementor had come for him when Harry had been alone walking back to the castle. Now he was sitting alone on the grass in the sunlight, late for Charms and shaking, despite the heat of the day. Was this the third time this had happened now? The fourth? He thought it was the third. Each time seemed to leave him less foggy afterwards, though perhaps he had just gotten better at recalling details of his day after each occurrence. He was also getting more and more details of that horrible night his parents had died each time the Dementors got him.

Harry got up on shaky legs, wobbled for a moment, and then continued up to the castle. He was ten minutes late for Charms and Hermione gave him a stern look, but after class Professor Flitwick asked why he was late and Harry told him about staying after to talk to Professor Sprout.

"Just as long as you weren't out of bounds," he said. "I know you're a responsible lad." Flitwick let him off with that, and Harry wondered if he would check with Sprout later to see if Harry had been telling the truth.

Later, at lunch when Hermione was busy talking with a sixth year girl about Ancient Runes class down the table, Ron leaned in to Harry and said, "You weren't talking to Sprout all that time."

Harry just stared at his friend and Ron nodded down to Harry's hands, which were still shaking. He pulled them down into his lap.

Ron responded by pulling a piece of chocolate out of his bag. "Mum sent these. She got them discounted from Knockturn. She sent a bunch to us just in case. She didn't want us feeling down all year."

"Thank you," Harry said, accepting the square piece of chocolate. It was dark chocolate and not sweet at all, but as Harry swallowed the bitter piece, his body seemed to calm and relax, and his mind didn't feel as frantic.

"She sent it dark and bitter so we wouldn't just eat it all," Ron laughed at the face Harry pulled at the taste. "Ginny said if we put it in a pot of hot water and add a bunch of sugar it'll make good hot cocoa."

Harry nodded and Ron promised to give him some of the pieces to keep with him. Harry was grateful for the Weasleys and how Mrs. Weasley thought of her children's needs ahead of time.

* * *

"What's the total now Albus?" Madam Hooch asked.

"Four this week. Three last week, and then the train."

"And we believe some of the students have been affected and have not reported their encounters with the despicable creatures," Minerva added.

Several of the staff shook their heads.

"It's unconscionable that the Minister is allowing this," Flitwick said.

"Not just the Minister I'm afraid," Albus said. "I have spoken to multiple officials, visited the Wizengamot to ask them to intervene, and filed three petitions of misconduct against the Dementors."

"There needs to be a petition against the Minister," Sprout said, arms crossed, though they all knew filing a petition against the Minister would be like shaking a jar of bees and setting them loose on themselves and their positions as staff at the school.

"I have kept track of every conversation with the Minister about the issue," Dumbledore said, "so that when it comes to a petition there will be evidence of misconduct and putting students and staff in jeopardy."

They were silent for a few moments as the Sunday afternoon staff meeting wore on. Finally McGonagall shook her head, looking angry. "They almost killed Potter and George Weasley. If George hadn't been able to cast the beginnings of a patronus... is that what it's going to take to make them leave?"

Albus reached over to her chair and patted her knee for a moment. "We will protect the students as best as we can. I fear we will have to cancel Quidditch and move Care Of Magical Creatures and Herbology into the castle."

"I will personally escort the students to and from the front door to the greenhouses," Sprout said. "I'm a little rusty with the patronus, but I can still conjure one."

"We'll have to cut back practices," Madam Hooch said, "but I'll escort students to the Pitch and supervise. I may even schedule two teams at once and tell them to practice by having a scrimmage."

"I fear that many students with only one professor that far from the school would be unwise," Albus said.

"So long as practices are after dinner, I'll go with her," Professor Vector said.

"Wha' abou' Care of Magical Creatures Headmaster?" Hagrid asked.

Sprout had an answer for this too. "Greenhouse four has a leaky roof and I haven't had time to fix it so we haven't been having classes in there. If you promise not to bring in any creatures that might rampage through the walls into the other three greenhouses, you can use that Hagrid. You might fix the roof before it starts to rain and snow." Hagrid beamed at her and thanked her four times before he settled down again.

With those issues settled, Albus said seriously, "Some of the students appear to be affected much worse than the others. Harry for instance."

"And he's had three encounters with them now," Minerva said. "None of the other students have been attacked so many times. Harry has passed out all three times and been left defenseless."

"I can teach him to cast a patronus," Remus suggested.

"It's advanced magic Lupin," Snape almost sneered. He was tired today and was nursing a headache and had been quiet up to this point in the meeting. "There's a reason the Weasley twins have not been able to cast one successfully." As loath as he was to admit it, the twins were some of the more inquisitive and brilliant minds amongst the current students. If they applied themselves more in some of their classes they could rival Granger. So could Potter, if he had any inclination to give his coursework more than a cursory effort.

"We'll take it slow," Lupin said. "Even if he stays in the castle all the time, there's no guarantee he'll always be free of their presence. At least if he's able to cast a patronus, he'll have some protection, provided there aren't too many Dementors."

Severus pursed his lips. It was advanced and difficult magic, but that wasn't the real reason he thought Potter wouldn't be able to conjure one. Fred and George might eventually get it, but he didn't think Potter was capable of finding a memory happy enough. He rarely saw the boy smile and with the number of nightmares he had about his relatives, and with how severely the dementors were affecting him, it seemed unlikely.

"Please begin at your earliest convenience," Albus told Lupin, and the werewolf nodded.

"I'll ask about his schedule when I see him in class Monday. Perhaps we can practice on a boggart."

While Severus did believe the boy should be taught to defend himself, he was frustrated with Lupin because he knew the wolf was setting him up for failure. Severus shook his head and tuned out the rest of the meeting as much as he was able. It was all making his head hurt too much.

* * *

Why was Potter refusing to apply himself? Severus had tried to give the boy a subtle hint the week before, about putting more of himself into his schoolwork and raising his grades, but here the boy sat yet again, daydreaming and half heartedly chopping ingredients and dropping them into his cauldron.

The boy's potion wasn't necessarily bad (at least not yet), but the child looked as though he could care less about finishing it or doing it correctly. He looked completely bored, as though he had better places to be. Perhaps he was daydreaming about more changes for his various business enterprises. The tabloids (Skeeter's articles in the Prophet), had posted rumors recently that Harry would be putting bridges across the alleys between the upper stories of buildings and selling them as small apartments, and in doing so would be blocking all the sunlight from both alleys. He almost snorted at the thought. Even Potter wasn't that dense.

As class neared it's end and Potter still wasn't done with his potion as his peers bottled and labeled theirs, Severus approached the boy's workbench. He was chopping cowbane into chunks, which meant he was three steps behind his peers and would not have enough time to finish.

"Potter, you do not have enough time to finish."

Harry looked up, gaze almost vacant. It took him several moments to process what had been said to him.

"I'm sorry sir," he finally said. "I'll be quick about finishing up."

"I highly doubt it Potter," he said. Especially given that there were only three minutes left of class and he was twenty minutes behind. The boy tried to chop the cowbane faster, but as Severus watched he noted the boy's hands were shaking slightly. Was he that intimidated by him? Severus frowned, and Harry startled a few moments later when Severus' hand came out of nowhere and snatched Harry's wrist, stopping him from chopping any more ingredients. Harry flinched and stilled, eyes wide, but still looked far away.

Severus released his wrist and said quietly so only he could hear, "Stay after class Potter. Do not touch your knife."

Harry put the knife down and sat with his hands in his lap and head down. Ron came back from turning in his potion a moment later and said, "Ok Harry? Are you going to try to finish it?"

Harry didn't answer as the bell rang for the end of class as there was no time left to finish it anyway.

"I'll help you next time," Ron said. "Lemme know if you're behind again."

"I have to stay after," Harry told him.

"What? Because you didn't finish?"

Harry shrugged.

Ron gave a frustrated grunt, grouched about Harry having to be late to lunch, and promised he would save him something if he didn't make it in time to eat. Harry nodded and mumbled a quick thank you before Ron and the others had to leave if they were to make it to lunch on time.

The door shut behind the last student and Snape came over to Harry's workbench. With a wave of his wand the half finished potion and ingredients were gone, leaving the cauldron and workbench clean and the knife where Harry had left it.

"You did not report that you had been attacked by Dementors again."

Harry looked up at him, mouth open.

"Yes, I know," he said, eyes narrowed. "Your hands are shaking, you are pale, and look as though you have seen a ghost."

Harry didn't deny it. His mind was still foggy and he was tired. He hadn't had much sleep the night before, and was having trouble today pulling himself from the fog of the most recent attack this morning.

"The Headmaster would be very displeased you were attacked a fourth time and would likely give you the day off to recover."

"Sure," Harry said, having trouble focusing on what Snape was saying to take it all in.

Snape turned and gave Potter a scruitinizing look. "This is the fourth time, isn't it?"

Harry looked up at the ceiling and tried hard to recall if it had been the fourth. He had lost count. It was the fourth week of school, but he knew it had happened a lot of times now. He had tried to stick with his friends or teachers while on the grounds, but somehow or another had been separated from his friends a number of times and left on his own.

"How many Potter?"

"I don't know."

"And you have not reported any of them," Snape said with finality. "Get up."

Harry did try to get up, but he was moving too slowly for Snape, so the man lifted him from under one arm and walked him out of the classroom. Around the corner and two halls over, Harry found himself being deposited on Snape's couch in his quarters. His backpack was on the couch next to him, but Harry couldn't remember grabbing it. Had Snape brought it for him?

The man swept into the kitchen, seeming in a high temper, and came back a minute later with a steaming mug of hot chocolate.

Harry didn't even thank him because he was so eager to get his hands on it. He'd gone through all the dark chocolate Ron had given him and was afraid to ask for more. He didn't want his friends to know he had continued being attacked and had eaten a large portion of the chocolate Ron's parents had sent for he and his siblings. Ron would tell Mrs. Weasley and Harry didn't want to be in trouble for consuming the resources meant for her children.

Now as he drank the hot cocoa on Snape's couch and his mind began to clear, he thought about all the money in his various accounts at Gringotts and thought he could have mail ordered for his own bars of chocolate and been fine.

"Explain to me," said Snape after the vacant look in Harry's eyes went away, "how you have continued to go out on your own when classes and Quidditch practices have been organized to prevent just such an occurence?"

"I didn't mean to," Harry said, eyes cast down to the half-drunk mug of hot chocolate in his hands. Just holding the warm cup was doing wonders for him, he thought. If only he could drink the cocoa in peace and not be put down as he dealt with the memories of his mother being murdered. He thought he now had the full picture, even though he never saw it when he was attacked. He had heard, smelled, tasted, and felt all of it though. From Voldemort busting down the front door and killing his father, to trailing behind his mother as she ran up the stairs, taunting her, to snuffing the light out of her and trying to kill Harry. The man's last words to Harry as he stood in his crib still chilled him thinking about them now. "You're an orphan now little Harry," the man had told him calmly, in an almost loving voice. "There's no reason for you to live any longer." Then the pain in his forehead came and ended his dementor driven nightmares every time he had been forced to experience them.

"Potter," Snape said calmly, and Harry's eyes came around to find the man staring at him. "Where did you go just now?"

"Nowhere," Harry lied.

"I was talking to you, and the vacant look came back, like a dementor was here with you."

He shrugged.

"Drink the rest of your hot chocolate," the dark eyed Potions Master told him, and Harry noted the wariness in the man's voice. He left him alone until he was finished with the mug.

"Do you need more?" Snape asked.

"Sir?"

"Was it enough to clear the fog and warm you up, or do you need more? There is a jar of chocolate powder in the kitchen."

"I'll be fine sir."

"That is not what I asked."

Harry did want more, but he thought it would be selfish to take it. Clearly Snape had stocked up to deal with the dementors if they attacked him.

"Give me the cup."

Harry handed the cup to him and Snape went back into the kitchen to put it in the sink. The only thing was, he didn't put it in the sink to be washed, and came back a few minutes later with another steaming cup of hot chocolate.

"Drink it," he said, holding it out to him, and watched as the boy's face lit up, if even only for a moment as he wrapped his hands around the mug and sipped from it.

Severus sat down again on the couch opposite the one Harry was sitting on, and leaned forward. "I require an explanation."

"Sir?"

"Why have you continued being attacked? Why have you not reported it when you have been? How many times has it happened now?"

Harry frowned. Snape wasn't going to drop it. He would have no choice but to tell, and then deal with whatever punishment the vitriolic man had in mind for him.

"Maybe... maybe six times, after the train I mean. The one with Fred and George after Quidditch, and then five more."

"Five?" Snape snapped in anger, and Harry's eyes darted to his face and didn't leave as though he was afraid if he looked away something terrible would happen. Severus sighed and leaned back into the couch so he wasn't leaning towards the boy. "Continue," he said.

"I keep getting separated. One time Professor Sprout asked me to stay back to talk to her, and one time I stayed to help Hagrid put supplies away in the greenhouse because I thought Draco was staying, and I was going to walk back with him, but he hurried off right after I said I'd help and had a big box in my arms I couldn't set down right away... I've been trying to stay in a group, but I keep getting separated."

Severus rubbed the bridge of his nose. That must have been the day Draco sensed the dementors coming close to the greenhouses. He had run out to get back to the castle but had been attacked on the way. Sprout had seen the dementors descending on Draco as she came back from delivering a group of students up to the Entrance Hall and cast a patronus before they'd gotten close enough to Draco to do him much harm, and then had taken him up to the Hospital Wing.

"Why did Hagrid not take you back to the castle?"

"There was a fire at the edge of the greenhouse," Harry said. "One of the baby fire-nifflers we were studying that day hiccupped and sent flames from his nose and caught the building on fire. Hagrid told me to get out of the greenhouse and to class while he tried to put the fire out."

"And why did you not report your injuries Potter?"

"Well I haven't been injured," Harry said with a frown.

"Being attacked by a dementor who wants to suck your soul out is considered a magical injury. The fog you feel after an attack, the shaking hands, the inability to focus... any of those are grounds to seek treatment in the Hospital Wing or seek the help of a professor."

"Oh," was all Harry had to say about it.

"You have been attacked five times, and went to classes without treatment?"

"Ron had some chocolate his mum sent. He let me have some pieces to keep with me. But they're gone now."

"You didn't ask for more?"

"It wasn't for me. She sent it for them." Harry refrained from telling him he'd been too stupid to send away for some himself. He could probably empty Honedukes and Tilly's shop and not even make a dent in his smallest Gringotts account if he wanted.

"From now on you are to seek the help of a Professor every time you are affected by the Dementors, do I make myself clear?"

"But if everyone's busy-" Harry started, but Snape's glare was enough to make him close his mouth.

"Then you come to me," he said, and before Harry could bring it up he said, "even if I am in the middle of class. Or to the Headmaster, even if he is entertaining the Minister himself. You are keyed in to his office. It will open for you no matter what password you give it."

Harry didn't know what to say to that. It suddenly made sense though why the gargoyles always let Harry in with the same password from the summer. Harry had wondered why the man hadn't changed it yet. The other passwords around the castle were always changed at least once per term, and sometimes more. "I don't wanna be a bother," was all he could think to say, thinking it would please Snape that he didn't want to take up all the Headmaster's time.

"Idiot child," Snape said, sitting back against the couch again and shaking his head. "You tell the Justice in front of a courtroom full of people how you will seek medical attention if you are injured, that you are capable of doing so, of flooing to St. Mungos on your own, yet you refuse to do so here." But as he looked at the Gryffindor who was staring at his half empty cup of hot chocolate again, he remembered the boy who had fallen off the ladder on Diagonalley and had the wind knocked out of him. He remembered the tears in the child's eyes then, and again in the courtroom as he clung to a man that for all intents and purposes hated him. And he recalled the words of the case workers about being capable of caring for himself, but how he shouldn't... about needing the support of adults. Remembering it all now disturbed him just as much as it had then.

"Finish your hot chocolate," he reminded him again, and Harry drank it down as quickly as he could without looking at the Potions Master.

When Harry was done, Severus said, "Put the mug in the sink and go to bed in your room."

"Sir?"

"You are not attending classes for the rest of the day."

"I have lunch with the Headmaster today. It's Wednesday."

"I will inform him you are taking a nap. It is standard procedure for students attacked by a dementor. You can go to sleep here where I can ensure you do as you are told, or be taken to the Hospital Wing." It was a lie and he was betting on Potter not calling him on it. Students were given chocolate and a hug from one of the more sympathetic professors or Madam Pomfrey and sent back to classes. Potter looked tired though, like he hadn't slept much, and though he seemed clearer and more in the present now, he still looked pale.

"Yes sir," Harry said. He gave Severus a look like he was an oddity Harry had never encountered before, put his mug in the sink as he'd been told, and went down the hall to the guest room he'd spent the rest of the summer in. It was mostly as he had left it, though none of his things were there now as they were all in the dorm in Gryffindor tower.

Harry was thankful to have the chance to nap, though he sat on the edge of the bed for a few minutes mulling over how strange Snape was acting. Why did he want him to take a nap? When Harry had been attacked with Fred and George, McGonagall and Pomfrey hadn't made them go to bed. When a Dementor caught Ron, Hermione, Dean and Seamus one day on their way back to the castle from Herbology and Hermione had screamed and gone running into the school, they hadn't made her nap either. Even Draco, Snape's most favorite student, had gone to classes for the rest of the day after he'd been attacked. So why should it be different for Harry? Why had the man been so upset that Harry had eaten chocolate on his own and continued on with classes those days?

Harry didn't know, but continued thinking on it as he drifted off on top of the covers, stomach full of hot cocoa that was still warming his mind and body.

* * *

"How many?" Albus asked, wary and shocked.

"Five more after the attack on he and the Weasley twins. That's seven."

"But he came to you?"

"No. I saw him shaking and pale with a vacant look in class. I thought he was being lazy at first. I brought him here and gave him two cups of hot cocoa before he began to resemble a child and got some color back in his face."

"I don't have to tell you how concerned I am," Albus said. "He was supposed to start lessons with Remus tomorrow afternoon during his study hall period. I will call a staff meeting after dinner and inform everyone that all classes will have to be moved into the castle as initially planned."

"And Quidditch?" Severus asked.

"I'm afraid Quidditch will have to be cancelled until the Dementors can be removed. Perhaps if they can be removed by the end of the year, we can hold a weekend long Quidditch festival to lift everyone's spirits."

Severus shook his head, arms crossed. The students wouldn't like it, and they would grow restless, but they would be safe.

"I will cancel Hogsmead weekends as well. I have had six requests already for students to go home for a weekend. Even Miss Granger has requested leave. I fear students may go home and not come back."

"Granger?" Snape laughed. "Nothing would keep her from an education."

"It's not student opinions I'm worried about. We've been receiving owls from concerned parents since the day after the term started. The Weasleys sent a large box of chocolate for their children, not in case they might be attacked, but because they were certain they would be."

"Is it time to file that petition yet?" Severus asked, but Dumbledore only gave him a hard look.

"In time." He turned to leave but stopped and said, "Please send Harry to me for dinner, unless he wishes to remain here for the night."

Severus nodded, and hoped the Headmaster was planning to fill the child with chocolate before he sent him back to Gryffindor tower for the night.