Harry had become passionate about healing after the battle against Voldemort. Because he had been in possession of the powerful Elder Wand, he had been able to help the healers cure wounded people, although he had very little knowledge about healing at the time. But the feeling of reversing damage, of taking pain away and of helping people recover had been both satisfying and soothing to Harry’s mind at the time. It was as if he had at last found a sure way of influencing the world a tiny little bit in the right direction and contributed to reduce the suffering in the world - which he had learnt by experience was considerable - to a lower level. He simply found it full-filling, and therefore he had seldom been more focused and determined as when he started his healer training at St Mungo’s.

The atmosphere at St Mungo’s was unique, especially at the Emergency Hall, where first year students started their main training: it could be calm and peaceful one moment, and a roaring chaos the other. Healer students worked the first few months of their training together with care witches and care wizards who were the magical counterparts of Muggle nurses. Harry had the impression that the distinction and the hierarchy among the personnel were less pronounced than in Muggle hospitals, however. Depending on individual skills, some care witches and wizards performed some healing spells while others concentrated on the more practical sides of the job in administrating potions, applying salves and in administering soothing magic. Healers were specialists and performed more advanced healing spells but it was clearly recognized that you worked as a team and that no one could do without the other for very long.

One day Harry was working in the Emergency Hall, patiently administering eye drops to a patient who had been blinded by his own uncontrolled Lumos spell. It was a not uncommon ailment in the magical world since fewer witches and wizards than expected had perfect control of their powers at all times. One hundred drops had to be administered over a period of one and a half hour and the patient would be cured. Harry had worked all morning with his favorite care wizard tutor, Hugo, who was a talkative young man, maybe five years older than Harry.

“Here comes your mentor,” Hugo said suddenly. Harry turned his head, expecting to see Healer Sheno who was his appointed mentor on the program, but to his surprise he saw Snape approaching between chairs and strechers.

“Hello, Professor,” he said, smiling and jumping up, glancing at the same time at his watch. Twenty seconds to go before the next set of drops.

“Your disciple is doing well, Healer Snape,” said Hugo. Harry coloured a little. Hugo seemed to imply more of an active involvement in Harry’s training on Snape’s side than there was official ground for. Although vastly respected among his co-workers at St Mungo’s, Snape was strictly speaking only an employee by the hour, doing evening shifts at the Emergency now and then. It was true, however, that he had already popped in to check on Harry a couple of times since the start of term. Every single time, Harry was both surprised and self-consciously grateful.

“I can see that,” Snape replied, watching Harry uncork a bottle and nimbly apply the drops in each eye of the patient. “Feeling better?” Snape asked the wizard.

“Definitely. My eyesight is already restored, but they say I need the complete cure,” the wizard replied a bit sullenly.

“They’re right,” said Snape sententiously. “Too many drinks yesterday?” he asked sternly. The wizard reddened. “Alcohol is the major cause behind all spell damage, remember that, Mr Evans,” supplied Snape. Harry, who winced a bit at his new name, had already heard about this fact, but he had not been so blunt as to press his client who had denied any abuse of substance on being asked initially. “Take it easy in the future. At least learn to respect your limitations when under its influence,” Snape reinforced to the patient.

“He’s right, you know,” said Harry in a milder tone to the affronted wizard. “Healer Snape’s an experienced healer. You’re probably aware of it already, but the fact that this happened to you is a sign of warning and I too think that you should reconsider your use of alcohol. Maybe reduce consumption a bit?”

“I’ll think about it,” said the wizard and looked away, slightly ashamed but more reconciled by Harry’s gentle address.

“Do you have time for lunch, Mr Evans?” Snape asked. Harry started again at the use of his new name. Most people called him Harry here, but it was true that the badge on his chest said Healer Apprentice Evans.

“There are twenty drops more to go, unfortunately,” he said, regretting to have to turn Snape down.

“You go have some lunch, Harry,” Hugo intervened. “I’ll take care of this. You covered for me yesterday – I know for a fact you didn’t get any lunch then. You have a seminar with your student group this afternoon if I’m not mistaken. Hygiene spells, right? You should go now or you won’t have time to eat at all.”

“Thanks!” Harry was conscious of feeling ridiculously grateful again. Why did everything seem so important when Snape was involved – even a simple lunch?

He followed Snape towards the physical exit of the building. Changing clothes was not a problem at St Mungo’s – a general spell was inbibed in the vault of the entrance and the green working robes were automatically switched to the ordinary clothes Harry had arrived in that morning.

“Where’re we going?” Harry asked as Snape stopped outside on the pavement.

“Well,” said Snape and hesitated, “I was thinking of taking you to a place where I used to go when I worked here – a wizard pub not far away. But then Audrey invited me to have lunch with her in a Muggle restaurant. When she heard I was going to see you, she asked me to bring you along. Do you think we should go?” Harry was surprised and a bit embarrassed by being asked. And was it even possible to turn down an invitation from the head of the Aurors? he thought.

“Er… why not? I like Mrs Steadfast,” he said cautiously. “Do you think she’ll put up with the hospital talk, though? You’ll want an update from St Mungo’s, won’t you?” he added.

“I certainly do. I also need to speak to you about something coming up at the Auror program, however, so it might be a good idea to have her there.” Snape frowned as if having problems deciding. “She has taken me to a range of different Muggle places lately, I don’t know why…” he muttered.

“Well, you’re recognized in magic places, from having figured in the press both of you, so maybe she only wants a bit of anonymity,” Harry proposed, sympathizing with the sentiment, being quite allergic to the press from his years as ‘the boy-who-lived’.

“It doesn’t matter if we’re recognized or not – it’s only business, isn’t it?” Snape frowned again. Harry did not say anything. He had a vague feeling that Mrs Steadfast, Mrs Steady to her co-workers, or Audrey as Snape called her, was perhaps interested in Snape in some way other than purely professional, but he did not dare to make any allusion to this, because it was only a hunch. “Well, let’s join her.” Snape finally made up his mind and they Disapparated discretely.

They found Mrs Steadfast studying the four alternatives for lunch in the snug little restaurant. She shone up when they greeted her.

“You made it,” she said with satisfaction.

“Three?” asked a waitress, and on confirmation she showed them to a table.

“I’ll have a Caesar salad, please,” said Mrs Steadfast.

“I’ll take one as well,” said Harry. Snape frowned.

“You should take the opportunity of having a cooked meal,” he said sternly to Harry. “Apparently he’s been skipping lunch from time to time, so his tutor said at St Mungo’s,” Snape added to Mrs Steadfast.

“Harry, you must take better care of yourself!” exclaimed Mrs Steadfast. “You’re struggling with two very demanding training programs – you must see to it to fill up your reserves of energy. You’re thin as it is!” Harry grew slightly irritated.

“I cook in the evenings, actually. And I’m perfectly capable of ordering lunch for myself, thank you!” he hissed. The waitress who had been standing beside the table taking their order and who was not much older than Harry smiled at him.

“The first few months of the first term are the worst,” she said conspiratorially. “When they see with their own eyes by Christmas that you have survived, they’ll calm down. All parents are the same.” Harry cringed a little at the implication and opened his mouth to correct her mistake, but when he met her kind, well-meaning gaze, he swallowed and smiled.

“I suppose they are,” he said. The waitress nodded knowingly and left.

Mrs Steadfast had reddened up to her hair-roots and Snape looked absolutely horrified at Harry who made an exculpating gesture.

“I’m sorry, but you brought it on yourselves. First, this would never have happened in a restaurant in the magic world because everyone would know who you are, and second, my eating habits are none of your business!” he said.

Mrs Steadfast looked as if she had bit into a lemon at first, but then her face broke up and she started to laugh heartily. Harry joined in the laughter – it was funny really, that the head of the Aurors, and his former teacher had been mistaken for his parents. Eventually the horror left Snape’s face as well, and he managed a little chuckle, but it was as if it was caught deep down his throat somehow. Harry took pity on him and launched into an enthusiastic account of his exploits at St Mungo’s.

Mrs Steadfast had a lively and alert temper, and was easy to talk to. She often fell into a bantering tone with Snape that loosened the stiff side of him up a bit. Her presence actually facilitated the sometimes tentative and haltering interaction between Harry and Snape. She was not uninterested in matters at St Mungo’s and seemed to understand that Harry needed to talk to Snape about his myriad of impressions from the world of healing. Snape on his side did not fall into the trap of being sententious or into lecturing Harry, but seemed to understand the necessity of the young apprentice discovering things by himself. So Snape only filled in, clarified, or sometimes put a counter question to entice Harry to reconsider his conclusions on some matters, in order to learn.

Eventually, Mrs Steadfast got a message on her security watch, and announced that she had to go ahead.

“Severus, don’t forget to bring up with Harry what you talked to me about. It seemed to me that it’s important to prepare Harry for this and find a strategy that both of you can live with,” she said.

“Wouldn’t it be better if you…?” Snape suddenly seemed uncomfortable.

“It’s part of your teacher responsibilities, Severus,” Mrs Steadfast said sternly. “And I don’t have time right now, I’m sorry. Just hear him out, Harry. Don’t get too upset,” she added.

She left and Harry glanced cautiously at Snape. What was all this about? Snape looked calm and inscrutable again so Harry waited.

“You know that the first term of the Auror program is mainly about teaching you security measures and basic protection,” Snape begun. “Protection spells, physical defence, precaution theory and so on…”

“Yes,” said Harry.

“Well, it includes Occlumency,” said Snape. “I’m going to give a couple of classes, teaching you. And you’ll need to practice it as well.” He fell silent to let the message sink in.

“Shit,” Harry said in a low voice and lowered his head. “Shit.”

“Er… yes,” said Snape. “I suspected your reaction would be… er… adverse.”

“Will I have to…? Do you have to…?” Harry begun. ”You’ve already plunged into every damned memory of mine!” he burst out exasperated. ”I guess no one knows better than you what my years with the Dursleys were like when I was a child. Must’ve been boring for you eventually.” He suddenly straightened his back and spoke challengingly. Snape shook his head.

”I was quite troubled by some of those memories,” he said slowly. ”Petunia always was a jealous and resentful big sister to Lily, but I never thought her capable of treating a child like she treated you…” Snape made a grimace of distaste. “If you had been a year younger when I read your memories, I would have made sure you never went back to Privet Drive. As things were, they didn’t dare to be really nasty to you when you grew older, and they were made to understand that you had friends among the wizards, weren’t they? At least that’s what Dumbledore convinced me of.” Harry snorted.

”Yeah, the Dursleys were very kind and supporting that summer after fifth year when Sirius died,” he muttered sarcastically. Snape made a grimace.

”I know…” he said.

What did Snape know? Harry thought angrily.

”I don’t think that you know actually” he said stiffly. ”I blamed myself so badly, I nearly….” Harry stopped himself. Snape leant over.

”You were near killing yourself - was that what you were going to say?” Harry drew his breath. Snape really did not beat around the bush, but then Harry had learnt last year that Snape was not very sentimental, nor particularly upset about suicide, and treated it with a matter-of –fact attitude that actually lessened the anxiety that Harry often felt when the subject came up.

”Never mind,” said Harry, exhaling and turning his head away. ”It’s a long time ago. I made it through that summer too.”

”I did speak some words of concern to Dumbledore that summer,” said Snape hesitantly, ”Knowing from our Occlumency lessons what your relations were like, and having some experience of what a fifteen year old boy might feel like after losing someone… I sort of…” Harry remembered that Snape had been fifteen when his mother died and that he had hinted once that he had been desperate enough at the time to brew the Draught of permanent peace in order to end his life, but had been stopped by Lily.

”Oh, I never had the right to make that choice, did I?” Harry interrupted with something of regret in his voice. “Not after what my mother did for me… And I was saved by being angry at you, by blaming you for Sirius’ death instead of myself… And then an old friend of mine came by and comforted me… sort of….” His voice trailed off, not wanting to pursue the matter. Snape lent forward with a sparkle of interest in his eyes.

”An old friend…?” he inquired. ”Would that be something your mother had given you? A toy of some kind? Was it?” Harry gasped. He stared back into Snape’s black eyes and hissed:

”You think it’s fair, do you, that you can ask whatever questions you like about my mother whereas I’m forbidden to mention her name in front of you?” Snape pulled a wry face and averted his gaze. Last year he had indeed in a fit of rage forbidden Harry to mention Lily at all between them.

”No…” he conceded.

”Do you want to talk about her?” Harry asked challengingly. Snape hesitated - he was obviously curious of the answer to his question. Finally, however, he shook his head to himself as if debating internally.

”Let’s leave it,” he said.

Secretly, Harry was shaken. How could Snape make such an educated guess about his old tin figure, the only toy he had brought with him to the Dursleys, the only toy that was truly his? Petunia had told him that it had lain in the basket that Hagrid had put on the Dursleys’ doorstep when delivering Harry to them that night after his parents had been killed. At one time Harry had asked Hagrid about the tin figure, but Hagrid did not seem to know anything about it. “Could you ‘ave ‘eld it in your ‘and all the time?” he wondered because he could not remember seeing it.

Although the tin figure had been a most unremarkable, oldfahioned and worn plaything, it had been Harry’s favourite toy when he grew up. For as long as he could remember he had ascribed supernatural powers to the tiny figure – it had been his hero. Departing from this toy he had constructed his own universe of adventures full of magic. Whenever his aunt heard him playing and fantasizing she had punished him, so he learnt to play quietly. Several times did she try to take the toy away from Harry, but he always fought desperately to keep it. Once when she had succeeded in removing it from him, and hiding it, he had fallen ill and stopped eating until she reluctantly returned the toy to him. Another time Dudley had tried to claim the toy as his, despite having shelf after shelf of playthings in his room. He had almost beaten Harry to a pulp with a heavy caterpillar to make him let go of the figure. It was one of very few times when Petunia actually had been forced to intervene and lift Harry away from Dudley. Otherwise, she usually let Dudley have a go at Harry whenever he wanted.

The tin toy also seemed to have healing and comforting properties. As a small child, when Harry was too tired or too sad to play at all, and only sat with the toy in his hand, crying silently from being punished or simply shut out from the rest of the family, sometimes there would emanate like a glow from the toy and the pain and grief that Harry felt would ease up. When he grew older, he played more seldom with his tin figure, which was left in the shrubbery under the stairs when he moved to Dudley’s second bedroom.

The last time Harry had held it in his hand was the summer after Sirius had been killed by Bellatrix at the Ministry of Magic. He had been so filled with guilt and unbearable feelings, mixed with the confusion and fear from what Dumbledore had told him about the Prophesy and his probable future that he could hardly stand it. How Snape could make such a qualified guess about Harry’s feelings and sequent of events that summer, so very close to the truth, surprised and bewildered Harry.

Thinking more closely about it, Harry supposed that it was not impossible that his mother who had been skilled at Ancient magic, had somehow enchanted the toy in some way to comfort Harry. He cast an intrigued gaze at Snape again, but abstained from saying anything. He wished he could get hold of the tin toy and check it out, now that he himself mastered some Ancient magic, but it was left at the Dursleys and he was not ready to visit them right now – he was not even sure he would be let into the house - so he supposed it would have to wait.

”About the Occlumency lessons,” said Snape. ”This is what I propose: either you leave it until next year – because strictly speaking you’re only studying half time at the Auror program, so you would be allowed to skip a lesson or two – or I can let Miss Swan Legilimency you instead of myself, if that makes it easier for you? It’s mostly a problem between you and me, isn’t it, because of our history?”

“You would abstain from Legilimencying me?” Harry asked suspiciously.

“If you prefer. Auror Swan will be my assistant in class and she’s a skilled Legilimens,” said Snape.

“It might work,” Harry said relieved. “I’m sorry, it’s not… You know that I respect you and all… very much nowadays… but it’s… I feel so very exposed and… and defenceless when you do it… I cannot help it…”

“You don’t need to apologise,” Snape said quickly. “I understand because there’s something peculiar… I happened to Legilimency you by mistake a couple of times last year, if you remember, and I didn’t particularly like it myself. I’m usually in better control of my Legilimency skills, but it seems that our lessons have left an easier access between our minds. It’s a side effect, I think, of your being so young at the time I tried to teach you, and of my being too harsh with you. I’m sorry about that.” Harry sighed.

“I’m sorry about looking into the penseive that day, I already told you…” he said, lowering his head.

“We’re even,” Snape said quickly. “We reached the conclusion at the end of last term that we’re even. Let’s stick to that.” Harry nodded.

“You promise not to Legilimency me, then?” he asked again anxiously.

”I’ll let Miss Swan do it,” Snape promised.

“Okay,” said Harry. “I’m still not looking forward to it. I’m really lousy at Occlumency.”