~~~~HP~~~~

Hi Hermione,

I'm sorry this is so late. I did get your letters (both of them), but I'm just getting around to reading them. Things here have been going alright, or at least as ok as they can be. Severus and I have gotten into a good routine and living together has become pretty normal at this point. Dudley's staying with us for a while and I didn't realize how much I missed having him around… all of you guys actually. I'm planning on taking him around the neighborhood here to show him where our mums grew up. I doubt he even knows this was their childhood neighborhood and I hope he can appreciate it like I've learned to. We were supposed to go on Tuesday, but I ended up pretty sick that day and half of Wednesday, then today's rained most of the day (I feel bad sending Hedwig in the rain, so you might get this a day late). Hopefully we'll make it out tomorrow because we're both getting right bored stuck in the house after three days.

Severus spoke to Mrs Weasley last night and we will be getting together for my birthday at the Burrow. The idea of celebrating my birthday feels a bit weird to me, but I guess it's a big deal to everyone else. It will be nice to see you all again, even if it's just for a quick dinner.

You asked if I've heard from Draco and yes, I have. He sent me two letters but I haven't opened them yet. Honestly, I haven't been ready to hear what he has to say to me about everything. Things back… there… I don't know. If I do read them (and there's something you should know) I'll definitely let you know. I'm sorry things have been rough between you guys.

There is one thing I wanted to get your opinion on - what do you know about accidental magic? Not wanting to put too much in a letter, I've started doing accidental magic again, only unlike last year (or when I was a kid), it's not exactly helpful, if you know what I mean. Severus only has one book here about it and so far nothing I've experienced has matched what's in the book. We can talk about it more when I see you at the Burrow, if that's easier, but I thought I'd see if you had anything I could read about it.

Hope you've had a great holiday so far,

Harry

P.S. The shiny toys you recommended last term for Hedwig has helped keep her from getting too bored, but she's been in a mood lately so just be careful… she may bite.

Friday 25th July 1997

Harry really hated the idea of sending Hedwig out in the rain yesterday, so had waited to send Hermione's letter until he woke up Friday morning to a crisp and clear, sunny day. Although he hadn't said anything, Harry could see the relief in Snape's eyes while he watched the young wizard present the rolled up parchment to Hedwig - along with an owl treat as a bribe for his extended absence - and asked her to bring it to Hermione. He almost felt guilty that the real reason he wrote to her was to ask her about his accidental magic, and not as some reconciliation he had with his feelings as Snape was sure to take it. In the end, he was grateful the professor didn't mention anything about it, so he wouldn't have to lie, and after breakfast he went in search of Dudley, who he found out in their tiny back garden.

There was still a chill in the air - at least to Harry - and he ran his hands up and down the arms of the grey jumper he was wearing, which contrasted his cousin's own bright red t-shirt, providing a great visual of just how different the two of them could be at times. The garden was more like a courtyard being that it was surrounded on both sides by brick walls, making the small space appear even more suffocating. If someone wanted to go outside to find some extra breathing air, the back was not the place to go for it. Not that he got to leave the house often, but when he needed a new perspective, Harry enjoyed sitting out on the single front cracked step leading from their front door to the road. The view was so different from that same position on Privet Drive, it was almost calming to him; a way for him to know how much his life had changed. Opening the back door from the house to the garden, Harry watched for a second as Dudley ran in place on the small patch of grass, with his back to Harry.

"Whatcha doing?" The young wizard asked, approaching the other teen carefully from behind so as not to scare him.

"We used to do this series of warm ups for boxing," Dudley was panting with his hands on his knees. "It helps me clear my head sometimes, y'know? I used to run around the perimeter of Aunt Marge's field, but this works fine."

Something about running - in what he imagined the field of Aunt Marge's large rescue looked like - sounded liberating to Harry and he thought taking a run around their block might actually help him sort through all of the messiness inside of his head. While he'd never really had the urge to go running in the past, suddenly his body was craving the physical exercise it had been lacking since his diagnosis and with it his year spent indoors, quarantined away from people.

"Mind if I join you next time?" Harry found himself asking without even consciously realizing it. "Maybe we can take a run around the neighborhood?"

"Sure. But-" Dudley looked precariously over the wall, however Harry already knew he wouldn't be able to see anything from their vantage point, "- is it… safe?"

Harry couldn't help laughing and immediately felt bad about doing so. "For the most part, yeah it is," he told his cousin and then used it as the opportunity to take Dudley to the old Evans' home. "In fact, let's go for a quick walk. There's something I wanted to show you."

When finally making his way out of the small row house, Harry didn't care that the sun shining down on the dilapidated street was brighter than it was warm, because just the act of it hitting his skin almost instantly re-energized him. For being an industrial town - previously run by the mill before it was closed, leaving most of the residents out of work - it had a quieting, almost relaxed atmosphere around the outside; like it knew the horrors of things happening behind the closed doors such as at the old Snape residence. The first time Harry walked into the pre-renovated home, his mind was taken to the memory from his Occlumency lessons when Snape was a child, living in the same bedroom Harry was now sleeping in. It had to be difficult to continue to live in your childhood home when so many awful things had happened there. Harry knew, from the Occlumency attack last year, that his other self and the professor had managed to build a good, fulfilling life in the home and hopefully they could do that now; to push out the old, battered memories living there with them.

Looking up and down the street, while waiting for Dudley to change for their walk, Harry got his bearings straight trying to remember the best way to get to his mum's old house. They would have to cross over the dirty river using the old steel bridge separating the two parts of town - Spinner's End being on the lower class side of Cokeworth - away from the broken smokestacks on the horizon. The first thing the young wizard noticed when Snape brought him here about a month ago was how different the two sides were from each other. He could imagine, and almost feel, how difficult the stigma of living "on the wrong side of town", as Uncle Vernon would say, would be to overcome in a place like this. Pride filled his small frame thinking about his mum befriending a kid like Snape - a kid too much like he would have been had his mother seen him at age nine - coming from this side of the neighborhood, without any prejudice based on his questionable, dodgy appearance.

The sound of the door opening behind him drew his attention back to his cousin. Suddenly he had the urge to know what Dudley knew about their mums' lives growing up. Had he been told they lived in a milling town? The Gryffindor thought not, otherwise Dudley would have said something about the familiar name of Cokeworth. Taking that thought further, it also meant the other teen hadn't recognized this as the place Uncle Vernon had taken them to get away from Harry's Hogwarts letters. He had a difficult time wrapping his head around how close he had been to Snape the night they spent at the Railview Hotel - a fact Snape had known from his old reality, giving them both a good laugh at this Harry's shocked face when the professor told him he'd spent a night in Cokeworth before - while he was completely oblivious to how important it would be to his life later on.

"Ready?" Harry asked his muggle cousin and they took off to the left, towards the pathway leading to the bridge.

There wasn't much to point out on their side of the river, and it was no surprise when Snape showed him around, all of the "iconic landmarks" had been on the other side. It definitely painted the picture of the professor not only spending a lot of time outside of his home, but that he didn't stay on his side of town often.

Once they crossed the bridge, Harry took Dudley to the old park where Snape first met the Gryffindor's mum; the very place that started a whole series of events he could finally not look back upon with dread. For once in his life, especially now while standing outside in fresh air and sunshine, he could almost feel happy about where he had ended up. Yes, he was still having his own struggles and demons he fought, and he still had Leukemia - something that wouldn't be officially going away for years - but somewhere underneath all of that, he was actually happy with his life.

"C'mon, Harry," Dudley eventually whined while they were sitting on the only pair of non-broken swings, "why did you bring me here? Don't get me wrong, I'm glad to be out of the house for a bit, and this area at least looks a little bit nicer, but you obviously have something in mind."

Harry toed the dirt beneath his swing, watching in almost a trace as the brown soil was pushed up onto the top of his black trainer, as he thought about how to delicately bring up their final destination. "What would you say if I told you that you'd been to Cokeworth before?"

Skeptically, the blonde boy looked around, clearly confused by the bold statement.

"I'd say you're crazy."

Harry gave a small laugh and pointed at the set of tracks just off the tree line in front of them, "See those tracks over there? If you follow them west, they'll lead you right by a small place called the Railview Hotel. Does that sound familiar?"

It took about five seconds, but when Dudley's face went white and his eyes practically fell from his head, Harry knew he remembered.

"You mean, my dad brought us here?!" Dudley called out somewhere between angry and disgusted. It hadn't been the reaction the young wizard was expecting and he briefly reconsidered if his cousin was ready to see the Evans' home; if his grief was still too fresh. "What was he thinking?!"

The second question had a lot less steam to it, and when Dudley began to laugh, deep down, Harry knew it would be alright. They both started in on the odd memories of that summer, about how Dudley barely knew what was going on, and how looking back he could see how wrong it was to not only try to escape Harry's history, but to have actively withheld such an important piece of who the young wizard really was. To Harry the words were everything he ever wanted to hear from his relatives, but it was also too little too late. He no longer needed their validation over the wrongs they'd done to him or the reasoning why; all he wanted was to continue to live his life in Cokeworth with Snape, and move on.

"I'm surprised your mum never told you about Cokeworth," Harry eventually transitioned to the part he actually wanted to discuss.

"Why would she?"

The words were on the tip of Harry's tongue, yet they wouldn't leave. Instead, he gestured for Dudley to follow him the short walk down to Mill Drive, where the road was lined with perfectly spaced trees - most of which were dead or dying, but Harry could imagine how it would have looked back in the day - and the row homes here were painted a variety of colors; a sharp contrast to the identical dull browns over on Spinner's End. They walked to the middle of the street, until Harry's strides started to slow looking at the numbers on the doors to each home, abruptly stopping in front of number 24, a brick home coated in white peeling paint at the end of its row and a steep set of steps leading to the equally chipped red door. An extra set of windows on the front of this home showcased it being larger than Snape's on the other side, which matched the rest of this part of the neighborhood; the wealthier side, nevertheless still a whole different world from Privet Drive.

"Harry?" Dudley placed his hand on Harry's shoulder, pretending not to notice the Gryffindor flinch. "What's-"

"They grew up here," Harry interrupted his cousin. He turned to look the muggle in the eyes when he told him, "this is where our mums grew up."

Now was Dudley's turn to go silent as he turned back to the rundown home. Harry knew the questions going through his head, or at least the one Harry would have wanted to know: why hadn't he known about where his mum lived? No one expected their parents to die so suddenly and at such a young age as both of theirs had, but to never have known where his mother spent the first part of her life was something so basic, and yet Petunia Dursley had been so afraid of magic she never mentioned it.

For the longest time, too long if anyone had been around watching them, the pair of cousins stood outside of the home where their mothers had celebrated their birthdays and holidays, and where they came together before being torn so unbelievably apart, neither knowing at some point their sons would eventually reconcile their lost friendship. Even with so much having changed over the last year, Harry could have never expected the two of them would be right where they were that day.

"They had a cousin with Leukemia," Dudley said so randomly Harry wasn't sure he'd actually said anything at all.

When the blonde didn't elaborate, Harry asked, pretending he didn't hear the hitch in his voice, "How do you know that?"

"I asked mum after you came back from your surgery last year," Dudley sadly explained, "I read through the pamphlets Professor Snape left for you and when I saw it said it runs in families, I thought I should ask."

For reasons he couldn't even begin to decipher, Harry wanted to cry. He'd thought he had lost that information with the death of his Aunt; ironically also the one person who had literally withheld his own history from him, so he had no reason to believe she'd tell him the truth. But Dudley had thought to ask the question he probably should have at least tried to ask himself, and was able to finally give him the last piece to the puzzle about his Leukemia.

"Who… erm… I mean..." the young wizard stuttered, unable to form the question he desperately needed to know, and thankfully the other teen understood.

"It was our mums' aunt's son... I think I got that right," he started, screwing his eyes as he went through the connection in his head. "He had it as a really little kid, a lot younger than you, maybe five? But back in the 60's treatments weren't what they are now and he… uh…"

"He died," Harry finished the awkward sentence, and yet even knowing the distant relative hadn't survived the very disease he was now battling, the simple fact he now knew where it came from made all the difference in his outlook. He was no longer some anomaly, like his mum with her magic. However, unlike with his magic - which he was happy to pass down to all potential future generations after him - he hoped the Leukemia never popped up again should he ever manage to have children. Of course, if he hadn't been made into a horcrux, or more accurately if the soul fragment hadn't blocked a significant part of his magical core, his magic would have killed off the cancerous cells before they took over Hopefully it would be a moot point and the cancer would just be gone from his family line forever. The raven-haired teen turned toward his cousin, it was hard to fathom that they were the last descendants of their respective family lines, and unfortunately, unless magic showed up in Dudley's children, he would have to look out for this hidden, horrible disease. If nothing else, should Dudley be faced with that scenario, maybe Harry could help provide some solace to the child; having gone through the treatments himself.

"Thank you," Harry acknowledged, "I'd been wondering 'bout it, but figured that history was gone."

Dudley didn't answer and, to Harry, that was alright. This was a difficult topic to talk about and he was grateful for the small piece of the puzzle he had gotten from the other boy. Without a word to each other, they turned and started the trek back to Spinner's End. Harry couldn't help thinking about his mum or Snape taking this exact route as children going to visit one another. How much more bearable would living at Privet Drive had been if he'd had a friend like Lily Evans - both magical and kind - to hang out with everyday?

"How do you… like living here?" Dudley nervously asked after a minute of walking and taking in the area around them where their mothers had walked and played.

"I love it," Harry furrowed his brows peering over to his cousin beside him, getting the urge to expand on his reasoning, "It feels so different then Little Whinging, and I feel like… I dunno, like I belong here or something. It really feels like home to me… I'm probably not explaining right."

"No, I understand," Dudley somberly said, reaching his hand out to stop Harry from their walk. "That's our fault. You think you don't deserve something good because you grew up in a cupboard, but it's not true."

"I'm over that, Dudley," Harry reassured the blonde, motioning for them to cross the rusted bridge to go back to their side of town. "I am happy here, even in a place like this. It's where Severus lives and that means it's where I want to be. No one's ever asked me what I wanted before, not about the cupboard, or going back to Privet Drive year after year, or even who my guardian was going to be after, y'know… but this, I chose to come here with Severus. I could have gone with the Weasleys to the Burrow - which you'll finally get to see next week - or stayed in Scotland with Minerva wherever she lives outside of school… hell, I even have my Godfather's old house in London I could go to after my birthday. But I want to be here, and it's where I'm also wanted."

Harry had no idea what made him say all of that, but he had to admit another piece of the boulder sitting in his chest chipped away at the proclamation. Still, Harry paused as the pair crested the bridge to think over what he'd just discovered about himself. Had this been what was missing, his self-realization that he was comfortable in this new life? Combined with the information he'd just learned regarding his family history with Leukemia, could things start to change - for the better - for the first time in a month?

They were standing still, watching the river - its water so dark with pollution it was almost black - winding between the overgrown, rubbish-strewn riverbanks, and from that position they could turn to their left and see the broken neighborhood they were heading towards or turn to their right to see a better kept version of where he now called home; where his mother had lived in the "nicer side of town".

"If you like being here so much," Dudley softly broke the silence between them, "then why do you have so many nightmares?"

The accusation - though it really wasn't one - came so suddenly, Harry lost his grip on the railing and almost fell to the ground.

"I don't know what-"

"I heard you," Dudley interjected before the Gryffindor could finish his denial, "I was coming upstairs to use the loo the other night and you were yelling, not loud, but enough so I could hear from the lavatory."

The young wizard's face started to blanch from embarrassment.

"Sometimes I have nightmares," Harry changed tactics and tried to make it sound like it wasn't a big deal, maybe then Dudley wouldn't make it one either. "Don't you?"

"Not like what I heard," the other boy continued, "I tried to go in and wake you up, but I couldn't get into your room."

This isn't good. Harry thought silently. The only explanation for his door being locked was his accidental magic, and it should have been helping him get out of his nightmares, not preventing someone from getting to him. At some point - and this maybe that point, he wasn't exactly sure - he'd need to tell Snape what was going on. That train of thought brought a more immediate question to his mind.

"Did you tell Severus?" Harry warily asked, wanting to know if he should expect walking into a conversation with the professor or not.

"No," Dudley flatly responded, and didn't offer any further explanation.

"Good," Harry turned away, "don't tell him, alright? He has enough to worry about right now."

He could feel Dudley's uneasiness about the request made, but still his muggle cousin mumbled his acknowledgement and the two continued on their way back to Spinner's End, just in time for dinner. The whole way back, Harry's mind was only half paying attention to where they were going - causing them to make no less than three wrong turns. He kept going back to the strange turn of events from the afternoon: his family history, his nightmares, and his accidental magic. And yet, with all of that weighing on his mind, he focused on the fact that this time when Dudley brought up his nightmares, it wasn't to mock him, but instead out of a legitimate concern for his well-being.

~~~~SS~~~~

Tuesday 29th July, 1997

As the second person Severus had told about his old life - the first if he didn't count Harry and, for some reason, in his mind the young wizard didn't exactly count - he valued Minerva's opinion more than just about anyone's lately. During the school year, they'd gotten into an unofficial cadence where they would meet for tea in his office every Friday night and he'd vehemently deny it if anyone tried to call him out on how much he looked forward to those nights. She had become not only a source of information this last year, but a confidant on his unique situation. They had come together to support Harry in a way the young Gryffindor should have had all along, and Severus found if he focused too hard on the past, he became far too angry to think clearly, and that was exactly what he needed to do today.

With school completed for the summer, the defense professor assumed his ritual with Minerva would have ended, however he was pleasantly surprised when only the second week into the summer holiday, the Head of Gryffindor firecalled him to set up tea each Tuesday until the 1st of September. Since then, typically she came over to Spinner's End to give Harry a chance to see his guardian - for whatever that was worth - but this morning he urgently requested to meet with her at Hogwarts as what he had to discuss absolutely could not be overheard by any wandering ears; muggle and magical alike.

For the last twenty-four hours, he'd been contemplating how to handle the situation he managed to walk into yesterday morning. While Harry and Dudley were out for a run around the neighborhood in the morning, an activity the young wizard started randomly and Severus wasn't completely sure he was supportive of, the professor hadn't thought any harm could come from catching up on some of the chores around the house with the place empty for the next three-quarters of an hour or so; depending on how ambitious the teens were that morning. Looking back, he felt guilty for being as frustrated with Harry after they'd left, because once again the Gryffindor failed to bring down his bed linens to be washed. Had that one simple act been done, Severus wouldn't have been itching with anxiety over what he'd found when he entered the small bedroom to collect them.

Laundry was the single piece of their home he left for magic - otherwise he'd be doing it all by hand as the home did not have a unit - and therefore the only chore Harry was completely exempt from helping with. He didn't think it was too much to ask that the teen bring down the linens three times a week to be washed, per the guidelines from Dr Swanson, and yet he always seemed to forget them. Stomping up the stairs, ignoring the lack of creaking on them that morning, Severus was thinking about how he could try to further stress to his child how important staying on top of the sanitizing still was, especially if he had every intention on running each morning. He hadn't been paying attention to the room around him until it was too late and sitting on top of the bed - left wide open in the young wizard's haste to leave - was the sketchbook. Under normal circumstances, the professor would have respected Harry's privacy and used his wand to discreetly move the coveted object, however he was already angry with Harry and his mind wandered back to the drawing he had caught a glimpse of at the chemotherapy clinic earlier that month. It was wrong, he knew that much, but he justified it to himself by claiming not only had Harry really caused this situation to begin with, but Severus needed to know what was going on with him and this was the best window into his young psyche.

What he found was far from anything he could have expected to see. The first noticeable difference was that Harry's normal sketches almost always included people within them in some capacity - usually the main feature. That had clearly been his way of finding and capturing the need to be surrounded by people after living most of his life alone. The sketches he saw that day were almost completely void of any life, outside of a random faceless person here or there. Also typical to Harry's art was how diligently he worked to complete a picture before starting a new one, and this book was filled with partially completed or more likely abandoned pieces. No matter how he looked at it, what he held in his hands - and then proceeded to flip through - couldn't have been any further from Harry's normal sketches, and Severus would have questioned if it was even his had he not already seen the stormy sketch from before.

The first picture, and most likely what Harry was working on before going out to run, was a dark green forest that reminded Severus of his Occlumency image; a place where Harry was supposed to feel safe and secure. Instead this forest was torn apart, with tree limbs dangling from precarious angles threatening to fall crashing down to the ground. In the background of the forest, red eyes - the only sign of any life in the picture - were staring savagely forward, almost appearing like they could see out of the frame and directly into the viewer's own eyes. The other pictures did not get any better. There was the stormy clouds he recognized instantly and the rest of the picture showed angry waves crashing onto a beach with lightning striking into the ocean. Finally, there was one depicting Hogwarts underneath a swirling set of clouds and a dark hooded figure stood at the base of what he guessed was the Astronomy Tower. Nothing particularly jumped out at him like the previous two sketches, but he had no less of a bad feeling about it.

Fear coursed through Severus's body as he sat at his desk in his Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom across from Minerva, a pot of tea holding warm between them. He'd just finished explaining yesterday's discovery and it was obvious she needed a minute to sort through the details herself before attempting to give her opinion on the matter. Having never raised her own child, one wouldn't think the Gryffindor witch would be an ideal choice to seek advice from for this issue, however as the head of a house like Gryffindor he wasn't about to discredit the experience she'd gained over the years. Not to mention even if she were technically only Harry's guardian on paper and the young wizard was no longer a member of her house at the school, she deserved to know what was going on with the teen.

"I take it you didn't ask him about them?" She predictably asked, starting out their conversation.

"No," Severus replied, "I did not think breaking whatever trust we have was a sound idea given the circumstances."

"Yet you looked through the book anyways," she chided him.

The younger professor resisted the urge to roll his eyes, "I did not ask you here to get lectured on my own questionable choices. If that's all you can provide, then I think this week's tea can be cut short."

"Calm down, Severus," Minerva waved her hand before taking another long sip of tea. "I simply thought your reasoning rather ironic given how this information was obtained to begin with."

"I wasn't snooping," he explained and instantly realized that was exactly what his colleague had expected from him.

"It seems to me," she ignored his insulted expression, "you already know the answer. His doctor gave you the number for the muggle mind healer, and it's obvious he needs help."

Severus ran his hands down his face. They all made it sound so simple, except when he tried to talk to Harry, it was anything but.

"It's not that easy," he attempted to explain. "Harry has made it clear he doesn't want to see yet another physician, outside of his two. He's practically an adult and there's not much else I can really do if he refuses."

She gave him a warm smile, one he had not only started to get used to, but really appreciated. When he'd been locked up captive for two month, he never expected his view on those around him to change so much. Where he used to scoff at other's need for validation, he now found himself accepting - and needing - another opinion on his own matters.

"There's a reason you're the head of Slytherin, Severus," Minerva stated matter-of-factly, "and I have no doubt you'll find a way to get through to him. But-" she emphasized the word, "- if you find yourself needing help, I would recommend reaching out to Mr Weasley and Miss Granger. They were his first family, after all, and I mean no offense in saying I think he'll take their opinion a bit more seriously. It is why we see more students come to us, as their Head of House with troubles as opposed to their parents."

Logically, what she said made perfect sense. How many times had he been approached by one of his Slytherins regarding trouble at home? Or with something at school? The answer was far too much. He'd heard anything from suspected abuse in a first year, to Mr Zabini's issues with his latest stepfather, and even students having issues in classes such as reading. They were conversations he hated having not because it was awkward for him, but because it was a testament to how little these students felt they could trust anyone else. As hard as he always appeared to his students, as their Head of House, he tried to demonstrate that he was also their advocate; he wanted to be someone he needed when he had been a student there. Which brought to light another question: had Harry ever tried to discuss his own issues at home with Minerva? And if so, why was nothing ever done to help the child? He knew the answer of course: Albus Dumbledore and the blasted Blood Wards on the property.

"And how are you handling everything, Severus?" Minerva asked as she did at some point during every single tea time they had. "Molly tells me she informed you of Albus's most recent concern?"

This time, he did roll his eyes at her mention of the headmaster. "Yes," he confirmed he had heard the latest news choosing to ignore her first inquiry, "and I met with Lucius to help us determine just how serious this needs to be taken.

"As I've told Molly, any remaining followers won't have enough power to reform in any capacity. It's why they all disbanded back in '81. I suspect the most we'll see is some minor infractions and I'll reiterate this again, it's nothing the Aurors can't handle. Surely Scrimgeour will want to make sure he has a handle on this situation, especially given he had zero affiliation with the death of Voldemort making him look like the incompetent wizard we all know he is. This is nothing we, and the Order, need to be involved in."

His sentiment caused the Gryffindor witch to give a small chuckle. "While I agree, I don't think Albus has it in him not to fight the wrongs of the world."

Anger and resentment resurfaced within Severus over the absence of Albus during the Battle of Malfoy Manor. He left his soldiers to clean up the mess he had started and for that, Severus could not forgive him. It also meant that if the headmaster was so determined to get involved in what was clearly an Auror's responsibility, he would need to stay a step ahead of the headmaster.

"What did Lucius have to say?" She added when he failed to return her sentiment.

"He's going to discreetly dig around and see what pops up," Severus pinched the bridge of his nose, giving his head a small shake. "I have another meeting with him, at his insistence, next week. Hopefully, he'll have something of substance to share and we can finally put this behind us."

The words he said sounded right, they were exactly what he wanted to say, nevertheless he didn't believe them. As angry as he was with Albus and while he questioned the other wizard's ability to think clearly - especially when it related to Voldemort and the Death Eaters - he also could admit that his own instincts were telling him danger was on the way. He'd be as vigilant as he needed to be where it related to Harry, but he'd never show his hand to Albus; it wasn't worth the risk. Severus had no way of knowing that the meeting with Lucius would be a social visit - at the requirement of his therapist - and that his friend would not have the information he seeked; he'd need to wait over a fortnight for anything worthwhile on the Death Eater front.

The professors' tea continued on with less important topics the longer it went on. They discussed everything from Harry's birthday celebration in two days - which of course, Minerva was attending - to Quidditch, and the price increase of parchment. It wasn't until they were almost finished with their tea that the topic of his potential return as the Defense professor came up that Severus remembered the last topic he'd wanted to discuss with her: Harry's accidental magic.

"What do you know about the manifestation of accidental magic?" He asked instead of answering her question about if he'd come to a decision on their return to the school or not.

At the sudden, and presumed intentional, change of subject, the Transfiguration Professor furrowed her brows. He thought she would push back to find out his purpose and therefore was surprised when she next spoke, "Probably not much more than you do. It's generally a form of self-defense used in magical children before they have a wand. As far as I know, there's not been much research in the field, though you may want to ask Filius about it."

He doubted her claim that there wasn't much research in this particular form of magic, he just needed to find it.

"What's going on, Severus?" She interrupted his thoughts again with the obvious question.

He took another long sip of his tea to give himself time to consider how much he wanted to tell her, but couldn't deny that she'd been extremely helpful last year when looking into Harry's magical core issues. If nothing else came from last year - which would be a complete lie because although so many bad things had happened, a great deal of good came from them too - he had learned he liked being able to depend on others and he needed to be a role model for Harry, who was struggling with the same concept.

"I think Harry's new magic, the raw magic, could become harmful," he chose his words carefully so as not to cause alarm or make Harry appear dangerous to those around him.

"To himself?" She clarified, already onto his subterfuge, and his lack of response was all the confirmation she needed. "In this case, I think we need to look for something relating to untrained magic rather than accidental. I'll see what I can find, you certainly have enough going on right now."

If he remembered right, that was almost her exact statement made when she took over researching Harry's magic last year. Hopefully what she found would be better news than anything they found last year, but he had enough experience to know he couldn't be that lucky.