Severus sat at the dining table contemplatively as he awaited Potter and Malfoy for dinner. He would have to address their fighting and their magic, but especially Potter’s guilt. It was astonishing that the boy seemed to have any care about the Muggles dying, but he understood. His relatives were his only home, good or bad, and now he was being told they were dead because of him and he was to be sent away. He cursed Dumbledore for being so callous.

He watched as Malfoy entered the room, head bowed as he slid into his usual seat to Severus’ left. He frowned when, after a couple minutes, Potter did not appear.

“Mr. Malfoy, do you know where Mr. Potter is?” he asked casually despite being irritated that the Gryffindor seemed to be ignoring him.

“In his room, I think,” Malfoy said.

Severus nodded and tapped the table, making the dinner items appear. “Help yourself, Mr. Malfoy. I will be back momentarily.”

He left the dining room and swept upstairs, feeling his annoyance grow. He understood the boy had just received tragic news, but that was no excuse to ignore Severus’ instructions. He knocked on Potter’s door, but opened it without waiting for an answer. He stepped in and walked to the side of the bed, staring down at Potter with his arms crossed.

“Were my instructions unclear?” Severus said, watching Potter’s angry green eyes move to him.

“No, sir,” Potter said shortly.

“Then I do not recall making dinner optional,” Severus said, raising an eyebrow.

“I’m not hungry,” Potter said dully.

Severus rolled his eyes, sighing as he realized what Potter was doing. “You cannot hide in here forever.”

Potter glared. “I’m not hiding and watch me. It’s what you want anyway, isn’t it?”

Severus scowled as the boy threw his own words back at him in a fashion. He grabbed the desk chair and pulled it over to sit. Apparently, they were dealing with this now.

“Potter, their deaths are not your fault,” Severus said.

“Sure it is. Dumbledore said—”

“I know what he said, but I also know wards,” Severus said. “Wards take time to get their strength back. Even if you’d gone back, they would not have strengthened in time.”

“I shouldn’t have left in the first place,” Potter said, his volume dropping. “Shouldn’t have said it wasn’t home.”

“But that is the truth, is it not?” Severus said pointedly. Potter glanced at him, but said nothing. “Do you honestly care that they are dead, the people who abused you?”

Potter’s eyes narrowed and his jaw clenched. “I’m not heartless. I don’t want anyone to die. And that’s not what it was.”

Severus raised an eyebrow again. “No? What would you call it?”

Potter shrugged a shoulder. “Punishment.”

“For what exactly?”

“Just…whenever I was bad. You’ve seen the things I do.”

“I have seen a reckless child act like rules don’t apply to him and could use more discipline at school, but I have never seen anything that would justify what they did to you,” Severus said, gesturing at the broken leg.

“Why do you care? You said you didn’t,” Potter said snappishly.

“I do not condone child abuse and I will not allow you to feel guilty over them after what they did to you,” Severus said. He refused to allow the boy to diminish what was done to him or blame himself.

“Whatever,” Potter said, returning his eyes to the ceiling.

Severus sighed, frustrated, though he understood the boy’s reaction. He’d done the same thing as a child. He was suddenly glad he had the summer with the boy. He was determined to cease Potter’s guilt and blame by September. Why, he didn’t know. He certainly didn’t like Potter, but there were…uncomfortable similarities between them that he’d never allowed himself or been allowed to see.

His thoughts turned to the blonde waiting for them downstairs. Similar circumstances had clearly brought Malfoy to him. Did he hold the same ridiculous beliefs as Potter in regards to his own abuse at the hands of his bastard father? He sighed again. It was likely. Lucius was extremely…persuasive and he could only imagine how that had translated into parenting the son he was rearing for Marking. Unfortunately, he would not have the same kind of time to work with the Malfoy heir. Dumbledore would return him to Malfoy Manor in just two weeks.

How was he meant to help them? Why did he want to?

He studiously ignored the mental flash of a little boy curled up in a dark corner, wishing for someone to help him.

He cleared his throat and refocused on Potter. “Will you come down to dinner? There are some things I wish to discuss with you and Mr. Malfoy, and I would prefer to only have to say it once.”

Potter’s eyes flicked to him and he could tell the boy wanted to argue. He was impressed when Potter managed to hold back.

“Fine,” Potter muttered and swung his legs off the bed, snatching his crutch from where it leaned against the bedside table.

Severus followed the boy downstairs and retook his seat while Potter sat to his right and across from Malfoy. He didn’t miss the glares the two sent each other and he was reminded of the fight they’d had earlier. If they wanted to survive the next two weeks until Malfoy left, they would all have to find a way to tolerate each other. Some things would have to change and he inwardly cringed at the idea of having these two particular boys roaming his home. Though, he couldn’t deny that, aside from their attitudes, both boys were not acting as he was used to seeing at Hogwarts. Perhaps they could continue to keep their destructive natures at bay and he could attempt to reign in his temper. They would get nothing productive done if they couldn’t even speak without descending into insults and fights.

He let them slowly eat in silence, watching both boys stare hard at their food to avoid looking at each other or him. He finished his dinner and sat back to sip his wine as he watched his students. As Potter and Malfoy came to the end of their dinners, he figured it was as good a time as any to speak with them, so he cleared his throat to get their attention. Grey and green eyes moved to him hesitantly.

“Some changes will be made to our arrangement to accommodate recent developments,” Severus said, keeping his tone neutral.

“Can I ask a question?” Potter said and Severus looked at him with an arched eyebrow, slightly surprised at the boy’s willingness to talk.

“You may,” Severus said with a nod.

“What’s the Order?” Potter asked, meeting his eye.

He could see the determination in the boy’s stare and knew Potter was desperate for information. He cursed Dumbledore once again for expecting Potter to just accept the dark he was continuously left in. Even he thought Potter should be told more of what was happening, given his central role in the conflict. He also caught Malfoy’s curious look.

“The Order is a secret organization created by Albus Dumbledore during the First Wizarding War to combat Riddle,” Severus explained. “It was disbanded after his defeat, but has been re-established upon his return.”

“An army?” Potter said.

Severus nodded.

“Dumbledore said the Weasleys are staying at the Order headquarters,” Potter said and Severus sighed, knowing what he was going to have to reveal. “Where’s headquarters?”

Severus met the green eyes steadily. “It is at the childhood home of Sirius Black.”

He watched Potter’s eyes shine with puzzlement and hurt. “Sirius? He’s okay?”

Not wanting to discuss Black any more than he had to, he just nodded. The mutt was irritating and mopey about being confined to Grimmauld Place, but he was alive and not in Azkaban, so he figured ‘okay’ was a fair description.

“If a secret army can meet there, why couldn’t I stay there?” Potter asked, his forehead creasing.

“I do not pretend to understand the headmaster’s decision, but I trust he has his reasons,” Severus said. Potter did not seem satisfied, but there wasn’t much else he could say. “However, be assured, you are safer here than you would be anywhere else. Riddle will be searching for you and Lucius will be searching for Mr. Malfoy, but you will not be found here.”

“Why would they be looking for Malfoy?” Potter asked, glancing at Malfoy who sneered at him.

Severus glanced at the blonde, briefly wondering if he should reveal Malfoy’s story. It could help settle things between the two teens. “Because Lucius was meant to give up Mr. Malfoy for Marking, but Mr. Malfoy has turned his back on his predestined path.”

He watched Potter shoot a look of shock and confusion at the blonde who stared back with his typical guarded expression.

“Along those same lines, you are both aware of my role?” Severus said, bringing their attention back to him. He received hesitant nods, implying they knew but weren’t sure. “I am a spy for the Order. As such, it is imperative no one knows you are here with me. When you write your friends, do not speak of where you are staying.”

Potter’s eyes widened while Malfoy’s fell to the table.

“I can write Ron and Hermione?” Potter said, more animated than Severus had seen him for the last week.

“Yes, with caution,” Severus said. “Mr. Potter, I will be able to deliver your post directly. Mr. Malfoy—”

“Don’t worry about it,” Malfoy interrupted. “I’ve got no one to write.”

He saw Potter give his rival yet another confused glance before turning back to Severus.

“Won’t it be weird that you’re delivering my post?” Potter said and Severus silently commended the boy’s observation.

“I will come up with an adequate explanation,” Severus said. “That is the first change. The second is you are free to go where you like in the manor. Unless a door is locked, explore as you wish. I expect you to be able to share the manor’s ample space without fighting.”

He stared pointedly at them until they both flushed and their eyes darted away.

“Yes, sir,” they said together, scowling at each other for speaking at the same time.

“You can spend time outside, but do not go beyond the fence, as I’ve said,” Severus said. “Mr. Potter, your cast will be removed in about a week and a half. Once it is removed, I expect you to walk the grounds once a day to help rebuild your strength and mobility.”

“Yes, sir,” Potter said.

“You will join him, Mr. Malfoy,” he said, gaining the looks of outrage he’d expected.

“What?” they said loudly together, shooting each other glares once again.

“You need fresh air before you are confined to Malfoy Manor once again. You may also learn a bit about how to get along,” Severus said and both teens tried to argue. “You are not so different from each other.”

They both fell silent but sent each other hateful glares. Severus just rolled his eyes at their childish attitude toward each other.

“The final change is we will be having…sessions to discover what kind of magic you both have,” Severus said. “Unfortunately for Mr. Malfoy, we will not have as much time to work, but we will achieve what we can in these two weeks.”

“I don’t have my wand, sir,” Malfoy said, his eyes downcast and Severus frowned at the admission.

“That magic earlier was wandless?” Severus asked and Malfoy nodded. He looked at Potter. “And you? Have you used your wand?”

Potter shook his head. “It’s been on my bedside table. I didn’t think I could use magic since it’s summer and I’m underage.”

“Do not concern yourself with that,” Severus said almost absently as his mind raced. “No magic can be detected here.”

He realized the boys were looking at him curiously. It was astonishing that both of them had performed unintentional, but still powerful wandless magic. It wasn’t just wandless magic, though. They both had some specific type of magic that utilized wandless magic. Such magic types were rare, some never seen for centuries. It would seem he was likely wrong all these years, and Potter and Malfoy could truly be something special.

He refocused on them. “You may go. Do what you wish until bedtime. Be in your rooms by ten.”

Potter and Malfoy nodded, and he watched them leave the dining room, his thoughts heavy with theories and growing amazement.

Harry was sat on the sofa by the unlit fireplace in the library reading when Snape walked in. He tensed automatically at the man’s presence and watched him sit in the wingback chair to the left of the sofa. He didn’t know how to feel about Snape. The man was confounding, to say the least.

It was only two days since he’d been told of the deaths of the Dursleys and Snape’s ‘changes’ to their accommodations. The manor was still filled with tension and they all avoided each other as much as possible. They certainly didn’t speak unless required, yet Snape seemed almost tolerant of having him and Malfoy there. The temper and dislike were still there, he could see and feel them, but Snape seemed to be keeping them toned down. It was strange and confusing as he had no idea what could have caused such a change.

“Mr. Potter,” Snape said and Harry looked at him. “I thought we might explore your magic.”

Harry closed his book with a frown of confusion. “What do you mean?”

“Only wizards with certain types of magic can become proficient at wandless magic without training,” Snape told him.

“But Dumbledore does wandless magic and so do you,” Harry said.

“Both through ample training and innate power,” Snape said. “However, our wandless magic is limited to spells we know. We cannot do whatever we wish unless there is a spell for it and it is a spell we know. As for you and Mr. Malfoy, I believe you may each possess a type of magic that utilizes wandless magic. These types of magic are very rare.”

Harry’s frown deepened. Him, rare magic? “I think you’re mistaken, Professor. I could hardly do a Summoning Charm this last year. I definitely don’t have any special power.”

I also couldn’t stop my uncle or save Cedric, he unwillingly thought and mentally shook away the painful memories that threatened to distract him. He darted his eyes away when Snape gave him a piercing stare. It was like the man knew what he was thinking and wanted to comment. Thankfully, he didn’t and moved past the moment.

“There is a way to find out. It is possible you have both suppressed these powers subconsciously for…various reasons,” Snape said, and Harry was certain the man was referring to how he and Malfoy had been treated by their families.

“How do we find out?” Harry asked, hoping Snape wouldn’t mention the Dursleys.

“We can look at your magical core,” Snape said and Harry looked at him curiously. “There is a form of Mind Magic called Legilimency. It is typically used for exploring the mind, but it can also be used to explore one’s magic. Your core will tell us if you have different magic.”

“How?”

“All typical cores look the same. Different types of magic make a core look different. The visual differences are dependent on the type of magic,” Snape explained.

Harry chewed his lip. “You won’t go through my mind?”

“No, I will not,” Snape said.

He didn’t know if he could trust Snape’s word, but discovering this magic was something Dumbledore had requested be done. He supposed he didn’t have much choice. If he caused problems, who knew where Dumbledore would send him. But, what if Snape was lying and was going to go into his head? It was bad enough the man seemed to have guessed at what his uncle did to him, he didn’t want Snape seeing anything. Either Snape would pity him or laugh, and he wasn’t sure which would be worse.

“They are separate spells, Potter,” Snape said as though recognizing Harry’s distrust.

Harry wished he could read Snape. The man was so blank and it frustrated him. Eventually, he sighed, knowing he still really didn’t have a choice.

“Fine,” he said shortly, hating that he had to do this with Snape. Spy or not, he was still a bastard that had tormented him the last four years for seemingly no good reason.

Snape nodded once in acknowledgement of Harry’s acquiescence before moving to the sofa, startling Harry. He tensed even more when Snape drew his wand.

“You need to relax,” Snape said.

Harry couldn’t help the narrowing of his eyes. Relax around Snape? “Not bloody likely,” he snapped.

Snape’s eyes also narrowed. “I would watch the attitude, Mr. Potter.”

“Or what?” Harry taunted, ignoring the tightening in his stomach that was telling him to back down. He didn’t know what Snape was capable of yet. He could be just like Vernon or worse. Again, spy or not, he was a Death Eater at some point. He could only imagine the horrible things Snape was willing to do to anyone he hated.

“Or I’ll have you scrubbing cauldrons for the duration of your stay,” Snape said angrily.

Harry couldn’t help but blink owlishly. That was it? That was Snape’s big threat? Maybe it was a cover. Maybe he didn’t want to say what the real punishment would be in case Harry went running to Dumbledore. His mouth turned into a frown as he filled with confusion.

“Now, take a few deep breaths and try to relax,” Snape said, no longer sounding angry which confused Harry even more. “I understand your hesitation in believing me, but I will not harm you.”

Inexplicably, Harry found himself relaxing somewhat, some part of him believing the professor. He considered his four years of interactions with Snape. The man had hurt him verbally, had threatened bodily harm, but no physical damage had ever come to him at the hands of Professor Snape. In fact, he’d often found the man protecting him. He had no idea what to make of the man before him.

“Are you calm?” Snape asked.

Confused as all hell is what I am. “Yes, sir,” was all he said.

“Very good. Now, the spell is going to pull us into your magical system. I will direct it to your core and we will be able to examine your magic,” Snape explained, raising his wand.

Harry stiffened slightly again at having Snape’s wand trained on him and no means to defend himself, but he did his best to stay as calm as possible. “Okay,” he said though it lacked confidence.

“Just relax,” Snape said quietly and raised his wand to the center of Harry’s chest while maintaining steady eye contact. “Legilimens magica.”

It was the strangest feeling, as though his consciousness had been pulled from his mind and placed somewhere completely different inside of him. It was like looking through his eyes, but inwards. He could almost swear he even had form and was able to physically walk around while also feeling like he was nothing but his consciousness, simply able to only observe.

He gazed around and found wispy gold strands drifting on the air all around him. He reached out to touch one and it was warm as it briefly wrapped around his finger. He quickly realized it was his magic. Before he could think about it more, he was being pulled in no apparent direction since he seemed to be in a void of sorts.

With no sense of time or distance, he had no idea how long it was before his movement stopped and he was left staring at a huge golden ball. It was made of the golden strands he’d seen before, tangling together to create the bright, swirling sphere before him. Threads were constantly ebbing and flowing from the sphere, filling the space around it as they floated to unclear destinations in the abyss.

As he stared, he started noticing different strands mixed in with the gold that would occasionally break away to flutter off. These threads were a bit larger than the gold ones and appeared to be four coloured strands twisting and braiding together. The strands were red, green, blue, and yellow.

He reached out to one as it wriggled free of the ball and floated by him. It wrapped around his entire hand, tangling almost playfully through his fingers. He was overcome with warmth and sheer power at its touch and watched in awe when it left his hand to drift away with all the other golden strings.

“Every witches’ and wizards’ core looks as yours does; golden threads,” Snape’s voice said, sounding like he was standing directly beside Harry. “The number of threads floating around and the size of the core indicates one’s magical power. A core can change when exposed to dark magic.”

Harry frowned. “What happens?”

“Some strands turn black,” Snape said and Harry thought he could hear a stiffness in the man’s voice. “It is irreversible and can become all black with consistent use of dark magic.”

Harry wasn’t sure what to say. He wondered how black Snape’s core was for surely there was some given his role as a Death Eater. He didn’t dare ask, though, and remained quiet.

“You have noticed the strands that are not gold?” Snape asked after a moment of uncomfortable silence.

Harry nodded or did whatever the equivalent was in his current state. “What are they?”

“That is your other type of magic,” Snape said.

“Really? What is it? Why are there so few of them?” Harry asked.

“This magic has been suppressed, unable to be fully realized. However, it is coming forth now and, with training, you will have full access,” Snape said. “It will be a remarkable power.”

Harry was surprised at the near amazement in the professor’s voice. “But what is it?”

“Elemental Magic,” Snape said. “A magic not seen naturally for six hundred years.”

As his consciousness was returned to its proper place and he retook his body, he couldn’t help but stare at his most hated professor who smirked at him in complete shock.