Harry grunted as he was slammed to the floor, and gasped for air through the hand around his throat and knee on his chest. His legs were kicking wildly and he was clawing at Vernon’s hand with both of his until Vernon pinned his left to the floor. His head was growing light, black spots were dotting his vision, and tears were burning the corners of his eyes. He could feel the magic rolling off him and could just make out the items floating high in the air behind his uncle. He knew the continuing display of magic was enraging Vernon more and he tried to pull the magic back, but, between his despair over Sirius, anger at himself, and fear of his uncle, he had no control.

He was growing weaker, his clawing and kicking slowing and his chest hitching as he fought desperately for oxygen. When he’d thought of all the ways he could die, this had not been on the list.

His vision was nearly black and everything fading away when air suddenly and somewhat painfully rushed into his lungs. Vernon was no longer on top of him and, as he heaved and coughed, he slowly became aware of a new voice in the room.

“Touch the boy again, and I will show you and your dear wife why she was right to be afraid of me when we were children. For the next two weeks, Harry Potter no longer exists to you no matter what you see, feel, or hear. Understood?”

There was shuffling and grunting, and then the sound a door slamming. Harry heard a click and felt familiar magic. Despite still taking harsh breaths and clearing his vision, he relaxed upon recognizing the magic. Things were strange between them, but he at least knew he was safe. A hand landed gently on his shoulder.

“Calm breaths, Potter,” Snape said. “Draw it in and release it slowly.”

Harry did his best to listen, doing as Snape said. The slow, deep breaths were painful, his throat aching and his chest burning. He pushed through, and his breathing began to come easier and his vision began to clear. 

“You…you didn’t have to…stop him,” Harry said, keeping his eyes on the floor as he recovered. 

“Aside from the fact that you remain the beloved Chosen One,” Harry rolled his eyes, “if you are to die at the hands of another, I would much prefer it be me. A reward for putting up with you all these years.”

Harry snorted, wincing at the pain it caused in his throat. “I’ll do my best to survive Voldemort so you get your chance then.”

“Very courteous of you,” Snape said and Harry could hear the amusement. “Sit up now.”

Hands gripped Harry’s arm, helping him to turn over and sit up, leaning against the bed. Harry sat limply, strength slowly returning to him. It was unexpected, though not as unexpected after the previous day, when Snape reached out to grasp his chin, but Harry allowed it. His head was tilted up and from side to side as Snape examined the bruises that were likely already forming around his neck. He was released long enough for Snape to pull a jar from his robes, open it, and gather some of the white paste on his fingers. His face was grasped and tilted again, and the paste massaged gently into his neck.

“I really can’t leave you alone for even a night, can I?” Snape said, applying more paste.

“Technically, I’ve only been alone the last ten minutes,” Harry said. “Whoever was here for the night left then.”

“So, I can’t leave you alone for ten minutes?” Snape said with a raised eyebrow.

“Pretty sure you already knew that,” Harry said.

“That is not an invitation to prove it,” Snape said, letting Harry go and putting the jar away.

Harry chuckled, causing a dull ache in his throat and chest again that made him wince.

“What happened?” Snape asked.

“Nightmare,” Harry said. “Vernon hates them as much as he hates magic, which he saw plenty of when he came in here over the nightmare.”

“No need to concern yourself with your relatives any longer,” Snape said. “They will no longer bother you and you will leave here in two weeks.”

“You didn’t have to do that,” Harry said.

“I would prefer not to walk in on what I did today for the next two weeks,” Snape said.

Harry frowned slightly. “You’re not going to be here every day, are you?”

“Not every day, but most,” Snape said, moving to sit in the desk chair.

“How did you manage that when the guard is meant to rotate and with everything else you do?” Harry asked, pulling himself up onto the bed. “Not to mention the fact that you’re not supposed to be talking to me and you, you know, hate me with every inch of your being.”

“Don’t flatter yourself with such exaggerations, Potter,” Snape said. “You do not hold that much importance in my life.”

Harry had to hold back a smirk, though his lips still twitched. “Of course not.”

“And I gave plausible explanations in order to be here,” Snape said.

“In other words, you lied,” Harry said.

“It is what I do, Potter,” Snape said.

“Fine, keep your secrets,” Harry said, lounging back on his elbows as Snape arched a brow again.

“Also what I do,” Snape said.

Harry rolled his eyes. “Oh, shut up. Tell me what we’re doing.”

“Well, which is it, Potter? Shut up or speak?” Snape said, leaning his cheek on his fingers as he propped his elbow on the desk.

Harry scowled. “You don’t have to be an arse all the time, you know.”

“And you don’t have to be a brat, yet here we are,” Snape said.

Harry huffed, letting his head fall back for a few seconds before returning his gaze to the professor. “Fine. Can you please tell me what we’re doing?”

“We are doing nothing,” Snape said and Harry frowned. “You are going to exhaust your excess magic.”

“The hell does that mean?" Harry said. He watched Snape wave his wand and a pile of wooden blocks appeared on the floor. Harry looked between it and the professor, confused.

“Transfiguration takes a large amount of magic to achieve, particularly complex Transfiguration,” Snape said. “I want you to transfigure these blocks into anything you choose, adding more complex details with each block.”

Harry’s forehead crinkled. “But, I don’t have an incantation or anything.”

“You do not require one,” Snape said. “All you need is intent and focus.”

“So, I think about what I want and, what? Hope it happens?” Harry said.

“That is a good place to start,” Snape said and he gestured at the blocks, implying Harry get started. When Harry moved to grab his wand, Snape waved at him to stop. “Your wand will restrict you to your main magic. You need to use your excess magic and the Dark Lord’s remnants.”

Harry nodded and, focusing on the magic he could feel always swirling inside him, waved his hand through the air at the pile of blocks. One rose from the pile and floated towards him, hovering in the air before him. It was rectangular and slightly smaller than a standard brick. He stared at it, considering what he wanted to try.

“Why do you call him the Dark Lord when you’re not loyal to him?” Harry asked, still considering the wood as it slowly turned. He saw the look Snape sent him and felt the questioning in the man’s magic, telling him the professor was curious about his choice of casual inquiry. It wasn’t the type of question he would normally ask Snape, but, after yesterday and given the man was there again voluntarily, it felt like something had and was changing. He sent some magic at the block as he waited for a response, finally having an idea for Snape’s assigned task. Red and gold strings began to surround the block, and the wood shimmered, morphing.

“Force of habit, but it also helps remain in the required mindset,” Snape eventually said.

“Makes sense,” Harry said, scrunching up his face slightly as he stared at the transforming wood. “Does it bother you to call him that?”

“Sometimes,” Snape said. “Often it is nothing more than a title, given I do not stand by it.”

Harry nodded and pulled his magic back slightly to see the shaped block. “Does this look like a snake?”

Snape raised an eyebrow, but looked at Harry’s creation. “Abstractly.”

“So, no,” Harry said, sending the ruined piece of wood at Snape who caught it easily.

“Try again,” Snape said. “Keep using that magic.”

Harry levitated another block and started over, red and gold surrounding it again. “What was it like to get Marked?”

Snape’s eyes narrowed and Harry felt his magic sharpen defensively, a dull pain lying underneath. “I do not recall inviting such personal questions. Did you not violate my privacy enough this year?”

Harry winced. “Sorry,” he said quietly, gazing hard at the block he was still shaping.

The silence between them became tense and uncomfortable, making Harry regret the question and everything that had happened between them that year. He wasn’t sure why. He’d certainly never given a damn about being awful to Snape before, but he felt he couldn’t ignore what he’d seen in that Pensieve, or the fact that Snape had been the only one to talk to him and help him that summer. He glanced at Snape, still feeling the hurt in the man’s magic, making Harry frown at his attempt at carving a snake from the wooden block.

“I am sorry about that,” Harry said, pulling Snape’s hard, dark eyes to him. “I had a reason for going in your Pensieve, but it’s not a good enough one to excuse me actually doing it and seeing what I saw. I know you won’t believe me, but I honestly didn’t intend to hurt you or anything like that.”

“I’m sure you had your fun with what you saw,” Snape said stiffly, tapping his fingers on the desk near Harry’s first attempt at his snake sculpture.

“I didn’t, actually. I did talk to Sirius and Lupin about it, but not for the reason you think,” Harry said. “You’ve seen what my relatives are like. What the Marauders did reminded me of the Dursleys and I needed to know why they did it, I needed them to have a good reason.”

Harry paused, still frowning as he carved the wood more and more. He remembered his disgust and outrage at the memory, and then at Sirius’ and Lupin’s response.

“They didn’t have one, unsurprisingly, I’m sure. I know I was stupid to think there might have been one after what I saw, but I hoped,” Harry said. “They tried to blame it on you, on Houses, on their age, anything to avoid admitting the truth. They’d convinced themselves that it was just the stupid pranks of teenagers.”

Harry shook his head, upset as he remembered that last conversation. He didn’t realize he was powering his magic until what was supposed to be a snake exploded into splinters. He sighed as he watched the splinters form a small pile on the floor.

“I know that’s not what it was and, like I said yesterday, I know it wasn’t just that one time,” Harry said. “I fought with them about it. It was the last time I spoke to Sirius before the Ministry.”

He looked up at Snape when he felt confusion and surprise bleed into the man’s magic to find Snape looking at him with the same emotions. Harry sighed again.

“I don’t like bullies and that’s what they were. They might not have ever admitted to it themselves, but that’s what they were,” Harry said, his forehead wrinkling as he looked down at his pile of splinters again with an ache in his heart, “right up to the end.”

The silence that washed over them now was heavy; it felt like they could drown in it if they let themselves. Something was hovering between them, uncertain and unidentified. Whatever it was felt like it could change everything they’d known for the past five years.

“Continue transfiguring, Potter.”

Harry looked up and found a wooden block floating in front of him, catching it was it fell into his hands. As he turned the block over in his hands, Harry felt Snape’s magic turn almost fuzzy and he couldn’t pick out any single emotion anymore. realizing the professor was likely done with the conversation, Harry turned his attention—most of it, at least—to the block he held. They were mostly quiet for the next couple of hours as Harry worked with his magic, only speaking when Harry asked how his wooden snake was looking. He knew what he wanted to create and it was definitely complicated enough to keep his excess magic busy.

By the end of the three hours, Harry had managed to carve a snake from the wood though it was still lacking a ton of detail and the other features he had in mind. He levitated the day’s final product over to Snape who looked up from the random school text he’d begun to read. The man took the wooden reptile from the air and examined Harry’s work.

“What is it you are trying to do?” Snape asked and Harry was surprised at the curiosity he heard in the man’s voice.

Harry sent his magic across the room and wrapped it around the snake, gently pulling it from Snape’s grasp and back to his own. “If I manage to do it, I’ll let you know.”

Snape inclined his head. “How does your magic feel?”

Harry focused for a moment. “More settled. It kind of feels like the loose magic, Voldemort’s magic, is mixed with mine, so I feel more powerful and a bit more control.”

“As you learn control, you will be able to keep the Dark Lord’s magic mixed with yours for constant use,” Snape said. “Eventually, it should only leave your control in extreme circumstances.”

“What about my other…issues?” Harry asked.

“We will work on them as well,” Snape said. “However, to deal with your new Mind Magic, we would have to resume Occlumency as well as add in Legilimency.”

“Would you want to do that again, considering? “Harry said.

“We could endeavour to proceed differently than we did,” Snape said.

“I promise to actually try,” Harry said.

“And I promise not to use the lessons as a way to torment you,” Snape said, surprising Harry with the blunt admission. “I’ll save detentions for that.”

Harry snorted, glad for the reprieve in the heavy atmosphere. “Who says I’ll get any with you?”

The look he got was so exasperated and pointed that Harry couldn’t help but laugh.

“Yeah, I know, I’m a hopeless menace,” Harry said. “I’ll be in detention by the end of the first week.”

“Perhaps you’ll even set a new record and get one the first day,” Snape said, amusement replacing most of the other emotions that had had Snape’s magic buzzing for the last couple hours.

“Didn’t I do that in second year with Ron and the flying car over London?” Harry said, grinning at the withering glare he got.

“You are a walking headache,” Snape grumbled and Harry snickered again. “It is time for me to go. The next member will be here shortly. Continue working with your magic, but if you begin to feel tired, lightheaded, or kill, stop. They are signs of magical depletion.”

“Yes, sir,” Harry said. “Will you be back tomorrow?”

“Thursday evening,” Snape said. “I am willing to arouse only so much suspicion.”

Harry nodded, watching the man walk over to the fireplace. “Thank you for helping.”

Snape inclined his head before disappearing into the green flames.

 He watched as his Death Eaters appeared one by one, bowing before him in greeting before taking their place in the forming circle. He smirked with satisfaction as Lucius Malfoy, no longer his prime and proper self, bowed low and then took his place. The once magnificent flowing white blonde hair was now dirty and lanky as it hung in greasy chunks around his splotchy gaunt face. This was no longer the powerful Lucius Malfoy. He had failed one too many times and finally experienced the consequences that came with such failures. He sneered as Lucius trembled where he stood, head down and fingers spasming around the head of his cane.

He turned from Lucius as his favourite arrived. He smiled approvingly at the top of Severus’ head and as the man took his place next to Lucius. Such contrast between the two; there always had been. Once Lucius had been his greatest success and Severus his greatest doubt. Now, however, they had switched Lucius was his greatest failure and Severus his greatest success. Yet, Lucius would have one more chance to prove himself or, rather, his son would have a chance to prove the worth of the Malfoy line to his cause.

Finally, the last arrived and he rose from his throne-like chair.

“I would say you are all a welcome sight, but, after the failure at the Ministry, it would be a lie,” he said, glaring at Lucius, Bellatrix, and Dolohov, the only ones to make it out of the Ministry and escape Azkaban. “A reminder of your failures.”

He cast a quick Cruciatus on each of them, reveling in their pain.

“You may have lost me the prophecy and forced me to reveal myself, but it was not a complete loss,” he said. “My connection to the boy is stronger after our joining, I can feel it. I also believe we have left him quite broken, correct, Severus?”

“Yes, my lord. He has lost confidence in Dumbledore and the Order, has lost control of his magic, and seems to be suicidal,” Severus said and he grinned with glee.

“Excellent news,” he said. “A far weaker enemy. All I require is the access. Lucius.”

“Yes, my lord?” Lucius said, his voice small and shaky.

He sneered at the pitiful display. “You have failed me for the last time, but your son can restore your family glory. Is he going to be ready?”

“Yes, my lord,” Lucius said. “He is anxious to prove himself and fight for your cause.”

He hummed, pleased. “Let us hope young Draco is more than his father. Three weeks.”

“Yes, my lord,” Lucius said, bowing slightly.

He had high hopes for Draco. He turned to Severus.

“Severus, what news of the boy’s location?” he asked.

“Dumbledore plans to remove him from the Muggles’ on his birthday. The Order will be bringing him to the Burrow, the Weasley residence,” Severus said.

“Method of transport?” he asked.

“I do not know, my lord. I am not involved in moving the brat,” Severus said.

“Is that so?” he said, unimpressed. “Crucio.”

He watched Severus’ face tighten and his hands clench into fists, the only response to his torture aside from the small, uncontrollable tremours as the curse ravaged the nerves. He held it for a few more seconds before releasing his spy.

“I am disappointed you are not involved in the operation, but I understand,” he said. “You will not be involved in the Burrow attack either. We cannot have Dumbledore discover you just yet. We must have Hogwarts first. Now, what protections are around the blood traitors’ hovel?”

“The very basics. They are quite weak wizards, as you know. The Muggle-loving patriarch is always there when not at the Ministry. He will be there to receive Potter from the Order,” Severus said. “There will be six Order members moving Potter.”

“Easy enough to deal with,” he said. “We will, hopefully, have a guest in two weeks.”

Murmurs ran through the Death Eaters, anticipation of having Potter in reach rising. The fun they would have with the boy before he finally met his death would be invigorating.

“Well done, my dear spy,” he said before flicking his wand and holding another Cruciatus over the Potions Master. He released it after a few seconds. “A taste of what awaits you if this information is ultimately useless.”

“Yes, my lord.”

“Dismissed. Except you, Lucius,” he said. “Bring me Draco. It is time he knows what awaits him in just three weeks.”

“My lord.”

He returned to his seat as the Death Eaters disappeared until Lucius was the only one left. He breathed deeply with satisfaction as Lucius left to get his son, pleased with how things were progressing.