Harry Potter 1. Planning Together

"If you really think about it," Harry commented as he watched the smoke puff out of a pipe on the wall, "there's no real reason Snape ever has to know about the baby. Once we find him and sort him out – he doesn't have to find out."

Ron gave him a wry look. "You're joking, right?"

"Well, think about it," Harry leaned against the north wall of the castle while Luna and Hermione were inside, gathering things. "I was found on my aunt and uncle's doorstep in a basket. Why couldn't we find a baby in a basket on our doorsteps? I could make some remark about history repeating itself, and everyone agrees, and we take in this orphan child. Snape never finds out, the end."

"You don't think he'd notice that Luna was pregnant?" Ron raised an eyebrow.

"She was hit by a jinx that swells her stomach for a few months," Harry said.

"What if she breastfeeds the baby?"

"She wouldn't do that in front of Snape," Harry felt slightly embarrassed.

"What if the kid looks like you?"

"Strange coincidence."

"So you're telling me that you're going to run some mad story where Luna gets big around the middle, disappears for a while and comes back thin again, but with a baby she found in a basket, who happens to look like both of you, and Snape doesn't think anything is strange?"

"Well . . ."

"You're not even going to let the baby call you Dad? He grows up thinking you're a strange bloke who found him? What about when he gets older and wants to know the truth?"

"Then I tell him, and I make the baby tell Snape. Snape's not going to attack the baby. It's win-win."

"Harry."

"I know," Harry dropped his gaze and scuffed his shoe on the leftover snow on the rock walk. "But it's worth a go or at least pretending it's possible. That way I don't have to think about Snape taking my head off. "

"Maybe you could work out a barter," Ron shrugged. "At the moment you rescue Snape, tell him you're going to be a father and you need him to be okay with that information or you won't rescue him."

"That's kind of mean," Harry glanced at Ron. "Isn't that blackmail? It's not exactly heroic behavior."

"Neither is knocking up your girlfriend when you're both in school."

"I think Draco's rubbing off on you," Harry grumbled. "What's taking the girls so long?"

"Dunno. I was ready to go with you, but Hermione said we had to gather stuff up. What stuff? Can't we just buy things as we go along? Or do we have money? Wizard or muggle?"

"I have some money," Harry put his hands in his pocket and felt the coins. "Most of this Snape gave me as an allowance. Once we get to the Manor we can search it for anything that will help us figure out where Snape might be."

Ron was about to say something, but Hermione and Luna ducked around the wall and huddled close. Hermione held a large bag and Luna carried a small one. Hermione looked worried, almost panicky, but Luna was calm and resolved.

"All right," Hermione said in a whisper, "here's the information. The castle is guarded by spells that keep strangers from coming in, but not students from coming out. The charms are set to protect the younger students, but the older ones – fifth, sixth, and seventh year – they can step out without alarms blaring. Dumbledore knows who comes and goes, but because everyone has been coming and going in the celebration, the wards have been relaxed."

"That's good," Harry said.

"Once a student is of age, they can leave without permission because technically they're adults. I'm seventeen, and Ron will be in a few weeks, but Luna just turned sixteen and Harry won't be seventeen until summer."

"So?" Harry asked. "We aren't asking permission to leave – I'm doing it. My guardian's not here – I can do whatever I want."

Hermione shook her head. "No, no, that's not how it works. Now that Snape is not here, you revert back to the school acting as your guardian – _loco parentis_. While you're here, the school acts as your parents. Dumbledore would have first say, and then your head of house, and then the rest of the teachers. When you go home, your uncle and aunt resume guardianship."

Harry stiffened. "I am never going back to those people. I don't belong there. My home is Snapdragon Manor. My guardian is missing. No, more than that – Snape adopted me. My adoptive father is missing, and you're quoting rules at me?"

"Don't snap at her," Ron said.

"It's okay," Hermione said. "I'm not telling you what to do, Harry. I'm telling you how the wizarding world rules work here. Technically, you have to stay here because the school is your guardian. Those are the rules, but –" she bit her lips in concern and glanced at Luna.

"Tell him," Luna prompted.

"We could wait until later."

"Tell him," Luna repeated.

"We don't even know if anything is real or if we're superstitious or if –"

"Tell him, Hermione."

"Tell me what?" Harry felt his heartbeat increase. "What's wrong?"

Hermione stepped further back into the shadows of the wall and the other three followed her. "In my research, I tried to find out what would happen if a student got pregnant or got another student pregnant. Would they be expelled? Would the wizarding community force them to get married?"

"What did the rules say?" Ron asked before Harry could.

"That's just it – there are no rules. The castle is charmed. In the thousand years Hogwarts has been open, no underage student has gotten pregnant."

Harry blinked. "Well that can't be right. Someone, somewhere in history must have gotten pregnant somehow. Back in the 1500's, people got married at fifteen."

"But not here," Hermione said. "The rules were fuzzy on whether the castle wouldn't let people have sex or whether it just stopped pregnancy, but no one has."

Harry looked at Luna. "But then how did we –?"

"So far I can only think of two explanations. Maybe because you were in a teacher's quarters, the rules didn't work. You're still a student, but maybe the charms recognized you as a teacher's son in there rather than a student."

"That's true," Ron interjected. "The room is charmed to unlock and have the fire go on when Harry goes in. It could work under those rules, and not care about the student part."

"Snape's quarters always worked differently for me," Harry nodded.

Ron watched Hermione sharply, noting her still-worried face. "What's the other explanation?"

Hermione twisted her hands together. "This is all conjecture, and I'm sure it is the first explanation. I'm always wrong about everything."

Harry's eyes widened to hear her lie so explicitly.

"Hermione," Ron said quietly.

"The baby was conceived two days after Voldemort was defeated," Hermione stared down at her hands. "Harry killed him outright. And Harry bears the Dark Mark now."

"No!" Harry stepped forward, and Hermione jerked back. "No – this is not possession. I killed Voldemort. He's gone. The baby we conceived is just us – my stuff mixed with hers, a baby created the natural way."

"You got her pregnant on your first try," Hermione pointed out. "It was the first time for both of you, and she can already sense the baby inside her. Even for witches, that doesn't happen until the baby gets big enough to feel, at least two or three months. She could sense something instead – that's why she took the pregnancy test. And all this happened in a castle where pregnancy never happens."

"It was Snape's quarters," Harry stepped in front of Luna protectively. "Anything could happen in there."

"That's why I hope it's the first explanation," Hermione said. "I'm sure it's a coincidence, maybe a miracle."

"But you think it's a demon inside her," Harry said. "Some kind of dark force left over from Voldemort."

"I didn't say that – I just think we should get more information on this search for Snape."

"Forget it," Harry took Luna's arm, pulling her close. "You're off the mission. Luna and I will go alone."

"Whoa, mate!" Ron put his hands up in the air. "If you think I'm letting you two go off alone, you're mad. We come with you, or I go to Dumbledore and McGonagall and get them to put you under house arrest. And I tell them about the baby."

Harry felt a murderous streak rise up inside him, and desire to hurt his best friend, but Luna turned to him.

"I want them to go with us, especially Hermione. She knows enough to help us, and I want a girl with me in case I get sick."

Harry wanted to protest, he wanted to scream at all of them, but Luna felt fragile beneath his callused hands. They were right. He couldn't leave Luna behind, and he needed Ron's fierce loyalty and Hermione's keen intelligence to survive.

"All right, all right," Harry forced himself to nod. "You all can come, but I don't want to hear anymore about possessed babies or the rules of Hogwarts. We can search for information, but I don't want to talk about it until we find more information."

"Agreed," Hermione said. She pulled a map out of her pocket. "Here's a map of the grounds. The best time to sneak away is this evening while everyone is at dinner. The Ministry is coming for a celebration, but I told the teachers that we four are going to have a quick supper alone. I hinted that Harry was feeling ill again, and that way they won't expect you to make an appearance. Tomorrow is Sunday, so no one will really look for us until supper tomorrow night. That buys us twenty-four hours."

Harry had to admit that Hermione was invaluable. "How far can we get in twenty-four hours?"

"A muggle town is forty miles from here," Hermione pulled another map out of her bag. "If we leave with brooms and fly over the woods through the tree tops carefully, we could be there in under two hours. That would give us enough time to take the 7:35 train back to England. With one transfer and another two hours flying, we could be at the Manor by one o'clock tonight."

"We can't floo or Portkey?" Ron asked.

"Not without alerting them," Hermione said. "And flying brooms would take a whole day."

"We should reserve time for searching the Manor," Ron said. "I mean, honestly, how long can we stay at the Manor before they come to look for us there?"

"But we have to go there," Harry insisted. "Chances are we'll find out what Snape was doing this last year. I know he was working on the transference spell with Mrs. Longbottom, but it has to go deeper than that. He didn't die like a normal wizard. He's scattered, and I don't understand what that means."

"We've got a lot of work ahead of us," Ron said.

For a second, Hermione looked elated at the thought of all the research they would have to do, but she quickly schooled her features into a serious expression. "Yes, lots of work."

"But Luna has to take it easy," Harry said.

"Actually," Luna said, "I looked up wizard pregnancy while Hermione was reading on the rules. Witches are like most muggle women, and exercise and movement help the baby grow strong and make for an easier birth."

"We'll get her vitamins and health drinks once we're free," Hermione promised. "We're leaving in two hours, at five o'clock sharp. Do whatever you have to do in that time. Keep a low profile, get whatever money and clothing you want to take, but nothing more than can fit in a knapsack."

"That means no books," Harry told her.

"Only essential books," Hermione said. "Take a little food if you have it, but remember you'll be carrying a broom as well. I'm going to get more maps. Luna, I want to focus on getting your bag packed for whatever you think you'll need in the next month. Ron, you're responsible for getting our brooms down to this spot," she pointed to a spot on the map of Hogwarts, "by five. It's deserted, out of sight from the castle, and we'll fly over the wall once we all meet up."

"Can do," Ron said. He looked taller and stronger than usual, a man ready for adventure.

"Harry, you get your stuff, and then stay out of sight. If anyone sees you, pretend to feel sick and get away. No one say anything about where we're going or what we're doing – pretend like we'll all be here tomorrow."

"We all meet at that spot by five," Harry agreed.

"Good luck," Hermione smiled. She kissed Ron, and Harry followed suit, leaning in to kiss Luna on the mouth. She smiled back at him.

Then they all left in different directions.

Ron went to the dorm room to pack first, and Harry went to Snape's quarters to look for anything to take with him. Somehow, the broom Snape had given him for Christmas had made it to Hogwarts though Harry was sure it had been at the Manor in the woods last time he checked. But a few days ago, it had appeared in his dorm room, and Harry knew Ron would gather up both their brooms before going to get the girls'.

In Snape's office, Harry did what he would have never dared to do before – he went to sit in Snape's desk chair and pulled the drawers open. A few were locked, but Harry pulled and kicked them until the locks broke. He dumped the contents of the drawers on the floor behind the desk and searched through the piles. Mostly he found papers, but there were quills and bottles of ink along with coins and a few pieces of muggle money. Harry pocketed all the money, and he searched through the papers. He found a small black book, about the size of an address book, with spells written inside. Some of the spells Harry had never seen, and he stuffed the book in his pocket with the money, thinking Hermione could look at it later.

He proceeded to ravage the room, looking into every drawer and cabinet and nook and cranny. He found a little more money, and he even ducked into the potions closet to look around. He found several potions with labels he recognized – health potions, potions to slow down poisons, and to heal minor wounds. Harry took those as well.

Next was his room, but Harry knew where he kept his own allowance and he didn't think anything else would be of use. He felt slightly guilty as he stepped into Snape's bedroom, but that didn't stop Harry from tearing the room apart. He emptied the drawers in there, throwing clothes, robes, and undergarments all on the floor so he could get to the bottom of the drawers.

Snape had hidden several potions in the back, and Harry studied the labels. He wasn't sure, but he thought they were to counter heavy, intense pain, maybe even to help someone endure torture. It made Harry sick to think that Snape needed to take this in order to function normally, but Harry stuffed the potions into his pocket and kept searching.

Snape had a small box on one shelf, and when Harry shook it, he thought he heard the jingle of coins inside. Putting the box down on the stone floor, Harry stomped on it with his foot until the box broke. He felt slightly appalled by his own violence, but it felt good to get the rage out. He wouldn't have to be there, smashing Snape's things, if the man hadn't been determined to sacrifice himself. For all Snape's lecturing, he liked to play the hero as much as Harry did.

The box had a few coins in it but also a ring of keys. Harry had never seen the ring, but he did remember that Snape had keys for the Manor. Harry took the keys, but he reasoned that if any of the keys didn't unlock a locked door, he planned to take an axe to the locked door. No silly door was standing in his way.

By four o'clock, he had destroyed most of Snape's quarters and felt confident that he had found everything of value. His pockets were heavy with coins and potions, but he would put them in a knapsack as soon as he got to his room.

He snuck out into the hallway and made his way upstairs without anyone really noticing. He headed towards the backstairs, figuring he could climb the narrow winding stairs and avoid the grand staircase altogether. Most students never used the backstairs, and Harry thought he was safe to get up to his dorm and get his things.

"Mr. Potter!" a crisp voice called behind him.

Harry turned to see Professor McGonagall coming towards him. He backed up. "Oh, hello."

"Hermione told me you weren't feeling well," she said.

It was unnerving how they were the same height, but she seemed to tower above him. Her no-nonsense look was as severe as ever, and she regarded him with a critical eye.

"Yes, I'm going to lie down for a bit," he said.

Without hesitation, she reached out and felt his forehead. "You're a little warm. Maybe we should take you back to Poppy. She's worried about you."

"She's always worried," Harry tried to look careless, but he was fighting hard against the urge to back up. "I'm fine."

"Mmm," McGonagall pressed her lips together. "You look tired. You know you can always come and talk to me if you need to."

"Thank you. Dumbledore said the same thing."

"Very good. The teachers here all support you and sympathize with your loss. In the madness that followed, I'm not sure you've received the proper care that you need. You lost someone very dear to you."

"Yes," Harry swallowed, "I did."

"I want you to take care of yourself," McGonagall said. "And you tell me if you need help." She took half a step away from him and then hesitated. "Potter, what is in your pockets?"

He froze. "Oh, just some money I had hidden in Snape's quarters. I took it for later trips to Hogsmeade."

"What else?" McGonagall eyed his bulging pockets.

"Nothing – some potions I wanted to study."

"Which ones?" she held her hand out. When he didn't respond, she pushed her outstretched hand closer to him. "Now, Mr. Potter, or I'll have to fetch the headmaster."

Reluctantly, Harry handed her several of the potions.

She looked down at the labels and when she looked back at him, her face was taut with concern. "These are powerful potions to offset tremendous pain. Why are you carrying these around?"

"Snape had a few of them in his – his potions closet. I wanted to know how they were made," Harry put his hand out to get them back, but McGonagall shook her head.

"No, no, oh, your poor boy. These are too powerful for you to have. If you take too much of these, you go to sleep and you don't wake up. Are you in that much pain?"

Harry dropped his hand. "No, I was – I didn't know what they were. I picked them up by mistake and – and –"

"It's illegal for a student to have anything this strong," McGonagall's eyes were suspiciously red-rimmed. "I know what you're going through has been horrible, but you can't carry these around to numb the pain. I'm taking you to the headmaster and he can decide what we need to do with you."

"No," Harry backed up. "Don't tell Dumbledore anything. You can have the potions – I don't care about them. I really didn't know what they were."

"I can't let you just walk away," McGonagall looked sadder than ever. "At the very least, I have to take you to Poppy and let her assess you. This is too dangerous to ignore."

Harry looked around himself frantically. He considered running, but though he might be able to outrun McGonagall, he knew the other teachers would come after him, and the whole idea was to leave quietly, not with the entire staff of Hogwarts chasing them.

"I'll go to Pomfrey," Harry turned, but McGonagall took his arm.

"I'll take you there myself. Oh, Potter, I'm so sorry. We've ignored you so long, but we didn't want to add to your suffering by making you talk. I blame myself – as your head of house, I'm responsible for your well-being."

As they climbed the grand staircase, McGonagall kept blaming herself, and Harry felt sick. While they waited for one set of stairs to turn back their way, McGonagall even reached out and gently smoothed the back of Harry's hair. She was sniffing, but held her head high, resolved to get them both through the recent tragedy.

"We're going to get you the help you need," McGonagall assured him. "There are counselors and doctors. Someone can come down from St. Mungo's, or you can go on a nice trip somewhere until you heal. We're not going to ignore you anymore."

They reached the infirmary, and Pomfrey met them at the door. McGonagall silently stepped to a side table and put the potions on the table. "Take out the rest of them, Potter," she said calmly.

With his hands slightly shaking, Harry withdrew the rest of the potions. Pomfrey read the labels and turned white as a sheet. She put her hand over her mouth as she stared at Harry.

The clock on the wall read 4:15, and Harry knew it would take him at least fifteen minutes to run from the hospital infirmary to the spot near the wall. That left thirty minutes to get out of this new mess.

"I'm having problems," Harry said. "But I can't deal with them right now. Can I talk about this tomorrow?"

"Of course," the nurse said. "But I can't let you leave the infirmary until then."

Harry swore silently but kept his voice low as he replied, "Then may I get in bed here and be alone until tomorrow morning? I just can't handle talking to anyone right now."

"Certainly," Pomfrey stepped over to an empty bed and started pulling curtains around it.

Harry turned to McGonagall, and it tore him apart to see her face. "I'm really sorry. You've done so much for me. I'm sorry for everything."

She blinked, trying to keep herself together. "I would do anything for you, Harry. Any of the teachers would."

"I know," Harry hesitated, and then he said the words he needed to say, in case he didn't see her for a long time, "Thank you for everything you've done in the last six years. If I don't say it again, thank you."

"Hush, now," she said, "don't talk that way. You're going to bed, and Pomfrey will take care of you. Tomorrow we'll do whatever we need to help you, but for now you're going to rest."

She left, still sniffing, and Harry felt like a heartless bastard. He meekly stepped behind the curtains and took the red pajamas that Pomfrey handed him.

"I knew you'd be back," she fussed over the bed while he changed clothes. "I told Dumbledore that you needed to stay here indefinitely because I expected something like this to happen. How much heartache and pain do they think one boy can take? There, get into bed, and I'll start diagnosing you."

Pomfrey's tests took a while, and Harry waited apprehensively as the long hand of the clock grew closer and closer to five o'clock. At 4:40, he had a sinking feeling that she wouldn't let him be until she had conducted every health test ever invented. She used magic; she had him hold different contraptions in his mouth to gauge temperature, heart rate, and blood pressure. She even made him take a medicine that made different parts of his body glow.

Trapped under her ministrations, he watched the clock tick to 4:45, 4:50, 4:55 with despair. It was all too late. He'd never make it in time. Would the others leave without him? Were all their plans for escape shot to hell because he had let himself get caught before they had even started?

"I think that's enough for now," Pomfrey pulled back and put her instruments on a floating tray. "I'm going to let you sleep for a bit, and then I'll come back later with some food."

"Thank you," Harry said glumly.

She pulled the curtains around his bed, and Harry heard her walk to the door and go into her office, probably to write a letter of report to Dumbledore.

Harry buried his face in his hands. Everything was lost now. Completely and utterly lost. They would never find Snape, Luna would be taken away, and he would spend the rest of his life talking to doctors about his grief instead of getting out and doing something about it.

A tap sounded on the window.

Startled, Harry sat up in the bed and looked at the window behind him.

Hanging in mid-air, the flying car was shining its headlights at him.

Harry scrambled to his feet and opened the window, letting in a blast of cold air.

The car looked better than the last time Harry had seen it: the windows were whole again and the sides weren't dented.

The car turned sideways and one of the doors opened. Inside was empty except for Harry's new broom. The broom bobbed up and down, almost motioning for him to climb in.

Harry jumped out of bed and grabbed his clothes, careful not to spill out the money from the pockets of his trousers. His wand was still in its case, strapped to his ankle as he had worn it since the days he trained with Snape.

But before he could change clothes, he heard the office door open. Incased in the curtains, Harry couldn't see anything, but Pomfrey called out, "Mr. Potter, what's that noise? I'm coming in there and you better be in bed."

Harry froze for a second, clothes in hand, and then he scrambled for the window as the nurse's footsteps grew louder.


	2. Out of Hogwarts

Harry lunged for the window, grabbing his clothes in one hand and his wand in the other. He heard the curtains pull back from behind him; Pomfrey gasped, "Potter, what are you doing?"

But Harry was already out the window and into the car.

"Harry Potter, stop!" Pomfrey shrieked, but Harry was already in the car.

As the car turned away and the nurse's cries died away, Harry glanced over the car. "How did you do this?" he asked, looking mostly at his broom. "How did you find me like this?"

Neither the broom nor the car made a reply, and Harry watched as they drove towards the meeting place. He felt shaky and all rattled up; he placed his hands on his knees and practiced the breathing techniques Snape had taught him. He let his shoulders drop, relaxing his neck muscles, and concentrated on drawing air in and out of his body.

How had the broom and the car found him? One of the objects – fine. But both of them at the same time when he had only been trapped for a few minutes . . . it was uncanny, and not in a fun way.

Still breathing, Harry opened his eyes and stared out at the twilight sky. His life had always been odd and uncanny and not good and strange and everything else not normal. He had been called a freak.

"Why should that change now?" he mumbled as he leaned back against the headrest.

He smiled suddenly, remembering the conversation he had had with Snape last summer. Snape said he had driven a car right out of Hogwarts. Harry had always taken that to mean that Snape had driven a car right after he left Hogwarts. But what if that wasn't true? What if Snape had actually driven a car physically out of Hogwarts just like Harry himself had done?

"Another adventure Snape doesn't need to know about," Harry grinned in spite of himself. "I'm scared they might start piling up. You two don't say anything, all right?"

The car dipped down, and the wall came into view with Ron, Hermione, and Luna standing by it. The car landed on the grass and eased to a stop.

Harry opened the door. "Quick, get in. They're onto us."

"What?" Hermione asked. "How can they be onto us already? What did you do?" But she had already gone to the driver's seat while Ron helped Luna in the back.

"I didn't do anything," Harry shut his door. The car rolled down the grass and lifted up again. "I ransacked Snape's quarters and found some potions. I was going to bring them to you, but McGonagall caught me. She thought I was suicidal and she made me go up to the hospital wing."

"That's why you're wearing pajamas," Ron realized. "At least you thought to bring real clothes." He lifted up the clothes to hand to Harry, but all the coins spilled out. "Blimey! Did you rob Hogwarts while you were at it?"

"No, that was from Snape's," Harry ducked down to change clothes, and Hermione looked at the backseat to give him some privacy.

"Snape had this much lying around?" Ron picked up the coins and put them into Luna's cupped hands.

"No, I broke some stuff to find it."

"And then the car just found you?" Hermione didn't look at him, but her voice sounded suspicious.

"Maybe," Harry pulled his trousers up to button them. "I drove it once, sort of. And it rescued me from the spiders in the woods. Ron, too."

"It did, too, but it hasn't been looking for me since," Ron groused. "And it never – Blimey! Your broom's here. I looked everywhere for it."

"It was in the car," Harry rolled the pajamas into a ball and stuffed them on the floorboard.

"That's incredible," Ron shook his head. "You have all the luck – Blimey!"

"Use another word," Harry growled, but Ron ducked his head down.

"Your Cloak is back here," Ron lifted up the Invisibility Cloak.

Hermione looked at Harry, a direct shot that seemed to go right through him in its intensity. "Harry," she pursed her lips together.

"Snape was always after me to tidy up," Harry said weakly. "Maybe he put a lucky spell on me so my stuff would find me and I'd have to pick it up."

"Did you have things appearing before you killed Voldemort?' Hermione asked. "Did any of these things happen to you before you defeated your greatest enemy, and Snape got scattered, and you impregnated a witch on your first time?"

"Sometimes weird things happen to me," Harry didn't know where to look.

"You really don't want to discuss why – oh, forget it," Hermione huffed. "We'll have plenty of time to talk about this later because you know strange things are going to keep happening. But you better watch out for them or you and I will be having a serious talk, Mr. Potter. Am I understood?"

She looked so much like McGonagall that Harry said, "Yes, Ma'am," before he could stop himself.

"Good," Hermione seemed to relax the tiniest bit. "So we have to discuss new plans. They're onto us so we have to move fast. The head-start is gone. They know we're going to go straight to Snape's Manor. Is there anywhere else we could hide until we get our feet under us?"

"The Burrow?" Ron suggested.

"Second place they'd look," Hermione shook her head. "My parents' house is out and Luna's too."

"They know about Grimmauld Place," Harry said. "I never thought how hard it would be to hide from the good guys. I mean, they know all our secrets. They know stuff about us our enemies never knew."

"That's why it's hard to betray someone or change sides," Ron remarked.

"You have to watch your every step," Luna said.

"Give us another reason to respect Snape," Hermione said. "I can't imagine how hard it would be for him to be a spy so long. Your every move would have to be planned well in advance. You can't just fly off on a whim, like some people."

Harry knew that jab was for him, but he hadn't ever thought about how hard playing both sides must have been for Snape when his friends and enemies knew everything about him.

"Hey, no!" Ron bumped his fist into Harry's shoulder. "You can't be looking all sad and mopey like that. You want to go on this mission and find Snape? You've got to start thinking like Snape. How would he get stuff done?"

"That's right," Hermione nodded. "Think like Snape. He gave you all this training, and like it or not, Snape arranged the spell for the mark transfer months ago. Probably as soon as you came in the summer he arranged things with Mrs. Longbottom, Dumbledore, even McGonagall. He was many steps ahead of the rest, meticulously planning everything out."

"That's right," Harry frowned. "And he didn't tell me any of it. He's got a lot to answer for when I find him. Sneaky bastard."

"Now," Hermione admonished, "he was doing the best he could."

"What he thought was best," Ron argued. "I understand why he did what he did, but it pretty much pushed Harry out altogether. Why couldn't he have told Harry about it? They could have worked together and Snape might not be dead – uh, scattered now."

"Harry would have refused," Hermione said. "Harry wouldn't have let him, and then what was Snape supposed to do? He knew an exchange of marks would allow someone outside the prophecy to step in and defeat the enemy."

"It wasn't his choice to make – he should have asked Harry," Ron leaned forward insistently. "When you make decisions that affect other people, you tell them. He didn't and now Harry's on his own."

"Harry has us," Hermione said.

"Harry has a lot to do," Harry said, slumping slightly in the seat. "But putting this whole argument on the side – which frankly I would have liked to have heard in the hospital when I was recovering . . ."

"We didn't want to upset you," Hermione said.

"This was all playing through my head even though everyone kept telling me to be quiet, but putting that to the side, if I'm thinking like Snape . . ." he trailed off, an intense look on his face.

The other three leaned in, barely breathing.

Harry considered it for a second and then nodded. "Yep, that's what Snape would do. Now, should I tell you, Hermione, or should I make my decisions without consulting the group?"

"I'll push you out of this car," she threatened.

"Fine, "Harry grinned. "The best place to go is Malfoy Manor."

Ron's jaw dropped down.

"Think about it," Harry went on. "Draco's there with his mother. Lucius was captured. Draco will help us, even if we have to sneak around Narcissa. He'll hide us, and we can sneak in and out of Snapdragon Manor until we get all we need."

"We have to drag Malfoy into this?" Ron made a face. "He'll be all snobby and pushy and disgusting, and you know he's going to want to sneak over there with us."

"Harry's right," Hermione said. "Draco's our best choice."

"I know Harry's right," Ron kept grimacing. "But can't I have two minutes to complain about it? Let me grouse and groan, and I'll be good once we get there."

"You take all the time you need," Harry said.

Luna looked out the windows dreamily. "I like this group."

HP&HP&HP&HP&HP

It was nearly ten when the car puttered down on the edges of Malfoy Manor's grounds. Harry got out of the car with his wand.

"You all stay here," he whispered. "I'll be back in a minute."

In the dark, he tiptoed to the edge of the huge mansion. The house was nearly twice the size of Snape's, and Harry saw no reason for such extravagance for a family of three, but he supposed he should not criticize the place that he wanted to hide in for the time being.

He stooped down and grabbed a handful of pebbles off the ground. He flung them at a second-story window where a dim light shone out.

Nothing happened.

Grabbing more rocks, Harry flung another bunch of pebbles.

"Draco!" he called out, keeping his voice low. "You stupid prat, where are –omph!"

Something tackled him in the dark, and Harry fell back to the grass and pebbles. A lit wand was shoved in his face.

"Who are – Potter?" Draco's voice said from somewhere behind the wand. "What are you doing here?"

"Trying to call to you," Harry stood, ignoring the pain in his leg from falling. "How are –" he broke off awkwardly.

In the weak light of his wand, Draco's pale visage showed several scars and a white bandage covered his left eye. His cheeks were sallow and thin as always, but he looked more tired than usual.

"It's not so bad," Draco gave a half smile. "It took me a while to get used to only one eye, and my balance is rubbish, but it's getting better. I take the bandage off every now and then to scare the house elf, but Mother screams every time she sees it. I'm thinking about getting a magic eye like Mad-Eye."

Harry stared for a moment, trying to think of something nice to say. What could you say to someone who lost an eye while you were hale and healthy?

"Sorry about Snape," Draco nodded. "Are you back here to take care of the Manor?"

"No, I escaped from Hogwarts," Harry said.

"What! Merlin, you leave for a few days, and Hogwarts makes Harry Potter a prisoner."

"No, it's more complicated than that. We are here to find Snape."

"We?"

"Ron, Hermione, and Luna. I got Luna pregnant, but Snape is alive, and we're going to find him. But all the teachers are onto me by now, and we need a place to hide."

Draco shook his head. "Snape was right. Trouble does find you. I want the whole story, but yeah, bring the whole group in."

Twenty minutes later, they sat in the great kitchen, drinking hot tea and eating muffins while Harry explained what had happened. When he was done, Draco said,

"Sounds about right. Those teachers were always in everyone's business. But I've been out of earshot since the battle. Mother brought me here, and I'm basically under house-arrest for no reason other than the fact that she's hysterical. She's gone for the night to see Father, and she's ordered the house elf to stun me if I step off the property. But Mother didn't say anything about letting guests in, did she?"

The house elf shook her head, but looked worried as she poured more tea.

"If you get her into trouble, I'll be having words with you, Malfoy," Hermione warned. "I don't want her to suffer for us."

"Believe me, we treat our remaining house elf nicer after we lost Dobby," Draco said. He gave Harry a scathing look that wasn't quite as strong as it could be considering he only had one eye, but Harry didn't look guilty in return.

"Dobby's better off without you. But seriously, how long can we stay here before they catch us?"

"A day or two at least. Mother gets back tomorrow, but she stays mostly in her room or has family come over who torture her by asking how Aunt Bellatrix could have turned so evil. Neville killed her, didn't he?"

"Yeah," Harry did feel guilty then. "She was rotten, you know, but still . . ."

"Not a nice woman or a particularly good aunt," Draco shrugged. "She gave awful Christmas gifts, liked to send me pictures of mutilated things, and wanted me to get the Dark Mark on my next birthday. A pure wretch. More tea?"

"How can we search the Manor without the teachers finding us?" Hermione asked, ignoring her teacup. "I don't like sneaking around, but if they find us, they'll send Harry to St. Mungo's and the rest of us back to school or to our parents. We can't do any good from there."

"Well, first off," Draco said, "they'll ask Snape's house elves if they've seen you. But for all they know, Snape is dead so the house elves belong to Harry now. If Harry tells them to keep mum, they have to do it. We can sneak over there at various times in the night to get whatever you need. Should it take long?"

"I don't know," Harry admitted. "There are rooms I've never been in. Remember the room with all the sleeping plants? What if there are more rooms like that?"

"You won't go in alone," Draco said. "We could search in pairs, and maybe Luna not at all since she's knocked up."

"Hey," Harry protested.

"Not a criticism," Draco gave a roguish smile. "You get yours, mate."

"You boys are horrible," Hermione tried to look prim and disapproving. "But we have to be careful. Who knows what is in that big house? Snape kept you out of some of the rooms for a reason, Harry. We can't barge in everywhere."

"I'll draw a layout of the house as best I can," Harry said. "Even if I hadn't been in all the rooms, I know where the doors are. We can start slow and proceed cautiously through each room, hallway, closet, and nook."

"After you find whatever you need, where will you go?" Draco asked.

Hermione took a sip of tea. "We're not sure after that. It depends on what we find."

"Come off it, Granger," Draco said. "You're going out to find Snape. Who knows where it will take you or how long or what you'll do, but you aren't returning to Hogwarts until you find him."

"Maybe," Hermione set the cup down and looked away.

"Well, try this on for size," Draco leaned forward with his hands on his knees. "I'm coming with you for Mission Rescue Scattered Snape."

"No, you're not!" Hermione and Ron barked out at the same time.

Harry slumped back in his seat.

"Oh, yes, I am," Draco stated. "I'm not going to be holed up in here and taken care of like an invalid. Mother wants me to go to a special school for handicapped wizards, and I said 'Over my dead body,' and she cried some more. But I am not staying here, tucked away like a helpless child just because I lost an eye."

"But that's it," Ron said. "No offense, but how can you help us with only one eye? You'll be a liability."

"My father had connections. Dark connections, but people who can help us move from one place to the next unseen. I can arrange meetings with them. Flippin' Potter still has the Dark Mark – that will help too."

Harry awkwardly pulled down his sleeve to cover up all of the skull and snake.

"You need someone who can think outside your pretty little boxes and goody-two-shoes rules," Draco went on. "I can do your dirty work, and you don't even have to thank me. Besides, Snape was my godfather long before he adopted the Wonder Boy."

"If you come and I did say 'if'," Hermione pointed a finger at Draco, "you have to follow the chain of command. Harry's in charge."

"Liar," Draco said. "You want to be in charge."

"Maybe," Hermione looked prim again, "but I'm letting Harry lead this and I'm only offering helpful advice if he asks."

That was another lie, but Harry didn't bother to correct her, mainly because Ron was glaring at Draco and there was no reason to start Mission Rescue Scattered Snape with more fighting.

"Yeah, I'm in charge," Harry said, "but we're all a team. Most of all you have to protect yourself and then help protect Luna."

"Because of the super-strange devil baby she's carrying?" Draco smirked. "Oh, come on, you didn't think no one would find that odd? You impregnated a witch on your first try at a school where it's forbidden. Either it's a possessed birth or you have the strongest swimmers of any British wizard ever."

"You're not so bad, Draco," Hermione tilted her head to the side to observe him. "You might finally fit in with the good side."

"I doubt it," Draco leaned back in his seat. "As soon as this little parade gets under way, I want a pirate eye-patch for my eye. Black, maybe with a skull and cross bones on it."

"A pirate wizard?" Harry lifted his eyebrows. "This will be a weird mission."

"Any mission you're on is a weird one," Draco scoffed.

Harry tossed a muffin at his face.

Draco ducked and protested, "Watch it. I only have one good eye left."


	3. Discoveries

Thirty minutes later, they were sneaking to the main fireplace. They had briefly argued about who would go over to Snapdragon Manor. Harry had wanted Luna to remain behind, but she insisted she was perfectly able to go with them.

They had a quick argument over the safety of floo travel.

"Is it safe for a pregnant woman to travel that way?" Harry asked. "Muggle women aren't supposed to fly during some parts of the pregnancy, I think."

"Third trimester," Hermione said, "but I've never heard anything about witches having problems."

"She could stay here with Draco," Ron said.

"I'm going with you," Draco said. "I may have one eye, but I can help ransack a manor just as well as the knocked-up broad."

"We need someone to keep lookout," Hermione said. "What if Ron and Luna drove over in the flying car, and Draco, Harry, and I flooed over? The three of us could search while Ron and Luna keep watch over the grounds."

"You think we need that much of a lookout?" Ron asked.

"By now everyone knows we've left Hogwarts," Hermione said. "They'll come to the manor, looking for us. We need a lookout."

Ron and Luna slipped out a side door, and Harry paused to watch his friend help Luna into the car. Ron glanced around attentively as Luna got in and he shut the passenger door. Ron seemed older than he had over Christmas break; the scar on his face gave him an almost menacing look – a look Harry had never associated with his best friend before.

"Harry," Draco whispered, holding out the bowl of floo powder.

Harry hurried towards them and scooped up a handful of rough, green powder.

"Wait," Hermione grabbed his arm. "We can get into the manor, yes? You said something about coming through the wrong fireplace when you first got there."

"Yes, that was a different fireplace," Harry said. "The one in Snape's study is open now – he put it back on the floo network in the summer."

"So we all say 'Snapdragon Manor'?"

"Yeah," Harry took the powder and stepped into the fireplace. He flung down the powder and said the words. A moment later, he dropped out of the fireplace in Snape's study.

It was dark, the only light coming from the windows, and the room was icy cold.

Harry stepped out of the way, and Hermione came through next. A second later, Draco dropped out.

"Brr," Draco chattered. "Ruddy freezing."

"Nabby," Harry called out. "Minnonty ? Are you two here?"

Both house elves popped out in front of him as the study candles came on.

"Master Harry," Nabby came forward and flung her thin arms around Harry's legs. Minnonty, the more conservative of the two, stood still, but his eyes were shining.

"Hey," Harry knelt down to get on eye-level with them. "I'm back. You – you heard about Snape?"

They both nodded, and Nabby burst into tears.

"It's all right," Harry put a hand on her shoulder. "Snape isn't dead, not yet. He's out there somewhere, and we're going to find him."

He explained to them what had happened, and both elves edged close as he promised that he would bring Snape back in one piece.

"Maybe so," Minnonty said, "we is missing Master Snape very much, but for now, you is the new master. You is now master of the house."

"I need to search the manor," Harry said. "I need to be able to look everywhere."

The elves looked at each other. "But – but," Nabby said in a low voice, "Master Snape – he told Nabby that Master Harry is not allowed –"

"But Master Harry is now the real master," Minnonty said firmly. "We must do what Master Harry wants."

"I don't want to do anything wrong," Harry told them. "I would never snoop around this house if Snape was here, but he isn't. I need you to unlock all the doors and turn some heat on and get some lights on. If anyone shows up, you need to say I was never here. Can you do that?"

"Minnonty and Nabby will obey Master Harry," Nabby said.

Hermione had been watching the whole proceeding with a slight frown, and she finally burst out, "But wait. You get passed down like property? Harry gets the house, so he gets you, too?"

Harry sighed and asked, "Nabby, Minnonty, do you want me to give you your freedom?"

Looks of terror came over the house elves' faces.

"Is Master Harry angry with Nabby and Minnonty?" Nabby asked.

"The manor is home – Minnonty and Nabby live here," Minnonty said.

"Just wanted to make sure," Harry looked up at Hermione.

"Fine," she pursed her lips together. "But if Harry treats you badly, he'll have me to answer to."

"Let's start searching," Harry stood up.

"I'll go with the house elves and make sure the doors all can open," Draco said. "Why don't you two start at the top and work your way down?"

The bedrooms that were closed up had little furniture in them, and nothing interesting that Harry or Hermione could find.

"Nothing down here," Hermione jogged down the hallway to meet Harry. "I don't think there would be anything to help us in these bedrooms – no one keeps anything important in their spare bedrooms. What about that last hallway?

"There is just one door on that side," Harry glanced down the short hallway. "It's always been closed. The door's still closed."

"We couldn't get it to open," Draco appeared at the top of the stairs, looking down the hallway where Harry and Hermione stood. "The door wouldn't budge."

Harry walked up to the closed door. Hermione followed behind, her wand drawn.

"Harry, don't do anything rash," she warned. "There could be some kind of curse in there."

"I'll go slow," Harry put his hand on the knob.

He felt the knob twitch under his fingers. The lock slid back, and the door opened.

A soft light came on.

Hermione gasped. "Oh, my. Is that -?"

Harry stepped further into the room, looking around. "It's a - a –"

"A nursery," Hermione said. "This is the playroom of a nursery. A wooden toy-box, a rocking chair, stuffed animals," she ran into the next room. "There's a crib in here. And a changing table and other baby things."

Harry went into the next room. He saw the crib and he went to it, placing his hands on the wooden rail. He could almost picture a baby sleeping there. Even though the room had been closed up, there wasn't the slightest smell of dust or mold. A baby could lie down on the soft green sheets with the cream coverlet over its sleeping form.

Above the crib hung a mobile with tiny flying dragons. Harry reached a hand up to it, and the mobile clicked on. It began to hum slowly, and the dragons flew around in a circle.

"Harry? Harry!" Hermione grabbed his arm, pulling him back.

"Wh-what?" he turned towards her.

"You were standing there a long time," she said, her eyes huge. "You looked possessed."

"There's something about this room," Harry looked around. "It's alive now. It – it wants a baby. It wants me to put a baby in there."

"What?"

"I don't think it would hurt the baby – I'm not sure. But it's some kind of magic."

"We don't have time for this," Hermione pulled him towards the door. "When we get Snape back, he can tell us all about the room. But for now . . ."

"All right," Harry nodded. "I'm leaving. I'll be back, nursery rooms."

Harry felt slightly dizzy as he stumbled out, and Hermione grabbed his wrist protectively.

An hour later, Harry stood with Hermione and Draco in the main entrance hall. Every ten minutes, Ron or Luna came by and flashed their wand through the window, a sign that all was well outside.

"We've got nothing," Harry crossed his arms. "Nothing out of the ordinary."

"I thought we'd find something in the study," Hermione said.

"I thought so, too," Harry said. "Snape was always so private about the study. I would never touch anything when I went in there, and I didn't go in unless he was there."

"What other places could you not go?" Hermione asked. "The potions closet –"

"I blew that up," Harry scowled.

"The room growing poisonous, sleeping plants," Draco added.

"I nearly died in there," Harry glared at Draco.

"So, that leaves the storage place and the greenhouse," Hermione said. "But what about a lab? Snape would need a lab, wouldn't he?"

Harry paused. "He must have had a lab. He made potions all the time and made me drink them. How big would a potions lab have to be?"

"One the size of the one at school?" Hermione suggested. "Snape always had side projects going on while we had class. Even when Moretta took over, I still saw potions brewing on the back tables, and she never touched them."

"Snape would disappear for a while," Harry said, "sometimes for hours. I could never find him, but he always showed up. Where would he hide a lab where I couldn't find it?"

Draco snapped his fingers. "What about past the room with the sleeping plants? Snape put a sign for you not to go in there. What if he was hiding two things?"

They went to the small room and stared at the door that was barely cracked. Snape had put up a new note: _You __still __can__'__t __come __in __here, __Harry._

"Sorry, Snape," Harry grabbed the facemasks off the wooden pegs. He handed one to Draco and one to Hermione. "Hermione, you go in with me. Draco, stay here. If we get in trouble, you get the house elves to pull us out. Watch us carefully."

With the facemasks covering their noses and mouths, Hermione and Harry stepped into the room where the Dreamless Sleeping Draught plants stood. The air felt stuffy, but Harry didn't feel sleepy as they walked past the seemingly-innocent plants. Hermione held his hand, and he kept glancing at her to make sure she didn't get drowsy. Her eyes were attentive and alert over the top of her mask, and she pointed with her free hand to an open door at the end of the room.

"Look, that could be it."

It was a lab - just as big as the classroom at Hogwarts, but filled with all kinds of complicated equipment.

"My goodness," Hermione looked around with staggering slowness. "This is incredible. Why did Snape not let you in here? With this type of sophisticated equipment, you could have been a potions master like he was."

"Really?"

Hermione shut the door. She took off her mask and took a careful breath. "It's fine. No, but, really, Harry – I've seen equipment like this in only the best labs. Wizards of the highest quality who master the art of potions, wizards who link magic with physics – they make you prove your talents before you can pay for these types of instruments. You have to prove that you're a potions master of the first class before you can buy this."

"And Snape never told me," ripping his own mask off, Harry tried not to stomp his foot as he felt his anger rising. "Snape considered me so stupid and talentless that he wouldn't even show me this."

"The plants," Hermione demonstrated to the closed door.

"The masks work! He could have given me one and shown me this. Or even told me about it. 'By the way, Harry, I have one of the world's best potion labs.' How hard would that have been?"

Hermione ducked around a large cauldron in the middle of the room and peered eagerly at the machines.

"Always hiding things from me," Harry glanced at a contraption of vials and glass twisted together. "I'm not that clumsy even though he called me a bull in a china shop after our practices. I wonder if he could walk in a straight line after carrying buckets of rocks up revolving stairs."

"Harry," Hermione called from the front of the room, "I think I found the answer."

"Answer to what?" Harry moved around the equipment, towards her.

"I think to everything," Hermione was staring at a main desk that was covered with papers and books. On the wall behind the desk, different sized pictures covered every inch, and all were alive and moving.

All the pictures were of Harry.

"It's me," Harry said blankly. "I – I don't remember any of these being taken."

In all the pictures, he didn't look directly at the camera or whoever was taking the pictures. Some were from the summer, as he wandered through the gardens. A few were from the grounds of Hogwarts, and some were even from inside classrooms. Each played for about twenty seconds and then repeated.

"Why did Snape take these?" Harry reached a hand out to touch the edge of one photo where he flew over the trees and then did a flip in the air. "It's like he was stalking me – but – but I lived here. How can you follow someone who lives with you?"

Hermione was ruffling through the stuff on the desk. "Papers, charts, books – there're all about you, Harry. Books about mark transference, powers of heirs, prophecies being altered, wizards with unique powers. Several articles on blood bonds, and you're everywhere."

She grabbed up a paper and read, _"__Today__ H__ unleashed __his __power __in __class.__ He __cast __lumos __so __bright __and __hot __it __nearly __blinded __the __students. __Check __for __references __to__ '__unleashed__ potential__'__.__"_

"That was early in the fall at school," Harry remembered.

"It goes back further," Hermione leafed through the papers. "All the way until June, only he called you P back then. P for Potter, I guess."

Harry stared at the sheets. It felt odd and uncomfortable to see himself through someone else's eyes.

"I'm in here, too," Hermione found a loose sheet. "He's writing about the picnic we went on. _H __went __with __Her, __Ron, __Dra, __and __Wor. __The __five __of __them __have __become __friends__ – __investigate __this __further. __H__ might __be __interested __in __Her, __but __Ron __is __in__ love, __obviously.__"_

Hermione looked up. "Snape knew Ron loved me? I didn't think he cared about us enough to notice anything. _H__ came __back __and __lied __for __Wor. __I __punished __them __both, __but __H__ needs __a __firmer __hand__ so __I __plan __to__ –"_

"That's enough about that," Harry grabbed the paper from her.

"Well, this is better," Hermione found another sheet. "_H__ has__ passed__ every__ test__ I __can__ design__ for__ him.__ He__ is__ ready__ physically __and__ mentally __to__ fight__ V.__ Once__ V__ appears, __the__ Transfer__ of __Marks__ will__ take__ place. __Then__ it__ will__ be __over_."

"So, that was it?" Harry flushed. "Basically, Snape recorded everything that happened to me to get ready. Do you think this was part of killing Voldemort? Is that the reason for all of this?"

"Harry, I'm sure it was more than –"

"No," Harry swallowed hard. "I'm not – none of this was - it wasn't real."

Hermione said nothing, waiting for him to go on.

"I thought he took me in because he – you know," Harry's throat ached so hard he couldn't swallow. "This whole time I thought I was more, but I wasn't. I was just his experiment. He wanted to kill Voldemort, and I was a way of doing it. Yes, take in the wretched orphan and put up with him long enough to get him ready to kill. This whole time I thought – I'm so stupid."

"This doesn't mean Snape didn't love you," Hermione insisted. "He could do more than one thing at a time – raise you as a son and a hero."

"No, this whole thing started because I came through the wrong floo portal," Harry said. "I came through the floo in the family room that had been cursed when Voldemort came through or something like that. He didn't tell me, but he was experimenting on me then, too. He gave me potions and I burned off the curse. He sat there, watching me catch fire, like I was some bug in a jar."

"Harry –"

"I am tired of being used. I am tired of having other people decide things for me. Snape just did whatever he wanted over and over again. This – this is demeaning! He might as well have strapped me down on a table and hacked off parts to test. At least that way I would have known what was going on. How can you trust someone who would do this to his own son?"

"Harry –"

"Oh, I'm sorry. Not real son, adopted son – adopted only so he could be turned into a weapon. Ugly bastard."

"Harry," Hermione's sharp voice cut through.

"What?" he snapped at her. "How are you going to make this better?"

"I'm not. I'm not going to say anything about this. But you need to decide if you want to go on or not."

"Meaning?"

"No one's perfect, Harry. You snuck around Snape to do what you wanted, and now you know he did the same."

"I wanted to sneak out for New Year's with friends," Harry exploded. "I didn't track every one of his movements like he was a lab rat. I won't forgive him for this."

"All right," Hermione said, "forgive or not, do you want to continue? Do you want to find Snape or not? Because if you want to find him, you have to put all of this anger on hold."

"I won't let this cloud my judgment. I'm going to have some words for him."

"So you want to proceed?"

"Oh, yes," Harry slapped the papers down on the table. "We are proceeding. Severus Snape is not going to rest in peace until I've said my piece!"

The door banged open, and Draco ran in. "They're here," he shouted. "Luna saw them come through the front gate. Ron has her in the car, and we have to – Merlin, Potter, are those all pictures of you?"

"Hurry," Harry grabbed papers and books. "Take everything you can find. We're going to spend the next few days studying up on Snape."

Draco and Hermione began grabbing books and stacking them up. Harry concentrated on his hands and ignored the feeling of resentment he had against the man who had collected so much information about the Boy who Lived.


	4. Sorting It Out

"Grab all the journals and notebooks," Harry instructed as he slipped his mask back on. "Hermione, take any books you'll think we need."

Draco pulled his mask on and Harry shoved a pile of books and papers into his arms.

"Oh," Hermione fretted as she snatched at various bound volumes, "I hate having to choose."

"We can always come back," Draco said. "Or at least I can. The wards will let me through."

"Fine," Hermione stacked up nine books, and they ran back through the room of plants.

Raps sounded on the front door as Harry led them back into the study. Hermione went through the floo first, turning back at the last minute to worry, "Can't we bring the pictures with –"

"Malfoy Manor!" Draco threw down the floo powder for her.

She disappeared in a snap of green fire, and Draco ducked into the fireplace next, taking Harry's armful of papers on top of his own. "Isn't that just like a girl? They always want to bring more stuff with them when –"

"Malfoy Manor," Harry threw the powder down.

Draco disappeared, and Harry stepped into the floo. He grabbed a handful of powder and as he flung it down and said the location, he heard the front door break open.

Harry ducked out of the fireplace in Malfoy Manor and hurried after Hermione and Draco up the side stairs. By the time Ron ushered Luna into the room, Hermione had already set up a work station on Draco's desk and had most books and journals open.

"All right," she rolled up her sleeves, "I'm going to need a chalk board, extra paper and quills, and we all need some food and drink, especially Luna. She's eating for two."

"The house elf can bring something up," Draco started, but Hermione looked so appalled that he amended, "I'll go down and find some. Harry, come help me."

"Do you think they'll come here looking for us?" Harry whispered as he went down the back stairs with Draco.

"No, not tonight," Draco said. "When Father went to Azkaban a year ago, Mother put up wards that would block intruders coming here at night."

"But we came here . . . at night."

Draco grinned, looking like a devilish pirate. "I changed the wards to allow you and the love birds to come in. I was secretly hoping you would rescue me from the tender loving care of my mother, but this works out just as well."

"Luna didn't set off the alarms?"

"She's carrying your child so maybe that's it. I do want to hear all about that later, when we have time."

"Don't count on it."

Harry followed Draco down to the enormous kitchen where a little house elf worked scrubbing the floors.

"Master Draco," the house elf, Mugsy, looked up, "Master Draco wants food?"

"Bring us anything good you can find," Draco pulled some trays out of a cabinet. "Harry, do you think Luna would like a cup of tea? She looked cold after riding with Ron, but that's because she didn't have her shoes on."

"She didn't?" Harry froze with his hand on the kettle. "I didn't even notice. She's not very good at taking care of herself. I guess I have to watch after her as well as everyone else. No matter, let's watch the great Harry Potter do all the work as always."

Harry slammed the kettle on the fire hook and braced his hands on the mantle, scowling into the blaze.

"Something on your mind, mate?" Draco raised an eyebrow.

"I'm still cut up about that room. Did you know that Snape was keeping track of me like that?"

"Not that kind of attention. He was terribly on to you this year, though. Did you do anything he didn't know about?"

Harry didn't answer.

"It makes you think though," Draco put cups, saucers, and spoons on one tray. "He was watching you carefully when the whole time you should have been watching him. He was the one with the plans after all, making things fall into place without you ever knowing. You have to feel rather stupid about that."

Harry turned back from the fire, furious.

"I can say what I want – I lost an eye," Draco pointed to his eye-patch. "Next time pay more attention to what's going on around you and less to the blond with the dreamy look."

"You're a prat," Harry helped put plates and food on other trays.

"Harry Potter, the Boy Who Missed the Most Obvious Signs," Draco smirked to himself. "I'm trying to make something out of Chosen One . . . maybe Clueless Drone, but it's not quite there yet. Give me a bit more time."

Harry felt rather proud for resisting the urge to beat Draco with one of the trays.

Twenty minutes later, they headed up the stairs with laden trays. Draco tried to carry two, but his balance was slightly off – "One of the problems of having one eye – bad depth perception" – so Harry carried two, Draco carried one, and Mugsy took the other.

Upstairs Hermione had Ron writing on a chalkboard they had propped over the desk, but Luna stood in the middle of the floor, swaying back and forth as she hummed softly.

Harry saw her bare feet peeping out below her skirt and he set the tray down before hurrying to her. "Sweetheart, you need to keep warm," He got her to sit in a chair and he took her icy feet between his calloused hands and started rubbing.

"I didn't notice I was cold," Luna leaned back in the chair. "I'm so tired and sleepy – you make me feel so good. I think I love you."

A sickening thud hit Harry – did he love Luna? Everything had happened so fast, so quick that he had barely time to think. Did he love her? _Love_ love her like Ron and Hermione or Molly and Arthur or even his own parents? He would stay with her for the baby, but did that equal love?

"You can't sleep," Harry blurted out. "You need to eat and drink something first."

She reached down and smoothed over his untidy hair. "My sweet, sweet boy."

Harry got her tucked under a blanket, sipping hot tea and eating a sandwich.

By that time, Hermione and Ron had written all over the board and drawn lines to connect ideas. At the center of the board, she had written _Harry, Snape, _and _Voldemort_ and the spells they had used when Snape scattered: _Expelliarmus_, _Diffindo_,_ Avada Kedavra. _

Around the edges she had connected past events such as Harry's adoption, his parents' death, Snape's disappearance, and Voldemort's use of fire.

"Did I miss anything?" Hermione wrote _Marks? _at the bottom of the board. "You walked us through what happened before the final fight – Moretta, er Mrs. Longbottom and Snape transferring the marks. Then he stuns you and you lay there until it wears off."

"Right," Harry nodded. "I found Snape and Voldemort and we fought. We all said the spells at the same time, and Snape exploded when the light burned into him."

"That's right," Hermione nodded, her mouth smirking into that confident line she wore whenever she had almost solved a problem. "Well, this here all proves a theory, my theory of how to save Snape."

She waited expectantly, and Ron finally conceded, "Won't you tell us your theory?"

"Of course," she smiled, "this here," she waved her hands over the whole board, "is all connected to fire. Fire is the answer. Harry enters Snapdragon Manor through a non-working fireplace," Hermione started tracing lines across the board, "and he gets cursed, just a little curse. The way to burn it off? Snape gives him potions so he catches on fire, but fire that doesn't hurt. Harry causes two explosions in the summer – both involving magic and burning, but he survives both."

Harry made a face at remembering his punishments for the explosions, but Hermione kept going,

"Harry goes back to Hogwarts where one of the first spells he creates is light, light so bright it burns our eyes to look at it. Snape trains Harry to fight dragons who breathe what? Fire! In the training rooms, Harry often trained by dodging fire. Then we come to New Year's where we start the final fight with Voldemort by setting fire to Diagon Alley. That fire sets into action all the events, culminating in a final fight that ends in an explosion. So what we need to do is figure out the result of the three spells. Once we know that, we can trace down the results of the spell. The trail should lead us to Snape. What we need to do along the way is find a wizard who can perform re-gathering spells."

Hermione reached for a book of spells and opened it. "Snape has underlined various spells and written names by them, indicating that those people are masters at such spells. I think we should narrow the names down to potential wizards who would be able to perform the spells. I also think we should trace places from Snape's past because he is most likely scattered in those places."

She stood back, waiting for a response.

"Well, it's a start," Harry nodded his approval. "You got more out of this then I would have done. At least we have something to go on now."

Luna stirred in her chair, standing up and hugging the blanket around her shoulders. "I'm so sleepy," she yawned. "Draco, may I sleep on your bed in the other room for a while?"

"Of course, you can sleep there for tonight," Draco opened the door to his bedroom.

Luna paused by the board, gazing up at all the words and lines on the board. "So much work you've done. You always were able to do more work than anyone else."

Hermione tried not to look too proud.

"It's a shame none of it is right."

Everyone in the room froze. Ron's eyes went almost as big as the saucers on the tray.

"What?" Hermione looked shocked. "Not right?"

Luna paused in the bedroom door. "Well, it's not a matter of connecting points. It's like when Lavender tried to trick me into giving her my silver bracelet for her box of Bertie Bott's Beans. It's a matter of things being equal, really. That's all it is."

She went into the bed, leaving the group in stunned silence.

Hermione twitched her lips in annoyance, and Harry could tell she was trying to not say what she really wanted to say. She started flipping through the book, snapping the pages over with terse jerks of her wrist.

Draco had leaned against the wall to examine the board, his one eye scanning over the words and lines.

"Not right," Hermione finally let the words out. "Tells me it's not right and goes off to bed like a little –! And why does she get to talk so cryptically when I have to make sense of everything like I always do –"

"Oh!" Draco jumped up and snapped his fingers at the board. "I get it."

"Like hell you do!" Hermione burst out.

"No, no, look," Draco pointed at the board. "The marks. The marks! Things being equal! The marks weren't equal. That's the whole point."

Hermione stared at the board, and then the book tumbled out of her hands to the ground. "Dear me, you're right. How could I have missed it? Of course it's the marks. Oh, silly, silly Hermione."

"The marks?" Ron asked blankly.

Harry pulled up his sleeve and showed the Dark Mark that was still on his inner arm. "This mark."

"Yes," Hermione came to him and ran her fingers over the dark tattoo of the skull and snake, "you and Snape traded marks. But was the trade even? Oh, this changes everything."

She rushed to another book and started pouring over it.

"Now who's talking cryptically?" Ron grumbled.

"It's a magical trade," Draco explained. "Let's say I discover a new spell and I write it down and sell it to you for ten Galleons. I take the money and you take the spell. Whether the spell works or not depends on your magic, not mine. Magic doesn't care about money, just the user and his wand. I could sell it to you for a hundred Galleons. No difference in magic."

"Got you so far," Harry nodded dubiously.

"But your trade with Snape was about trading magical marks. You went into it willing, yes?"

"I guess. I didn't really know what he was doing before he did it."

"That doesn't matter," Hermione glanced up long enough to say. "The willingness of participants won't affect the equality of the trade."

"There you go," Draco said. "Magic always wants to equal things out. You force magic out of your wand, but the moment you stop, the magic stops because it's trying to stabilize. If a novice wizard tries to trade magic with a master wizard for any kind of control or power, the magic will weaken on the master's side and increase on the novice's side to balance out."

"So here it's about equality," Ron realized. "Because the marks aren't equal."

"Snape gets the tattoo from Voldemort," Draco underlined the name on the board. "Harry gets the scar from the night he defeats Voldemort for the first time."

"The scar was caused by Harry's mother sacrificing herself to save Harry." Ron said. "It connected Harry to Voldemort. That has to be stronger than a mark on one of his servants."

"So the marks aren't equal," Harry shrugged. "I still killed Voldemort."

"But that's the point," Hermione cried out. "Snape must have been going by the prophecy that said you had to kill Voldemort because he marked you. Snape thought if you switched marks he could just take your place. But the magic was on your side because it realized that he had taken the stronger mark. How long did it take you to shake off the stunning curse?"

"Only a few minutes," Harry realized. "Just a few minutes, really. That's all."

"Yes," Hermione smiled. "Your magic grew stronger to make up for the loss of your powerful mark."

"Let's go through the fight then," Ron looked at the three spells. "Harry shouts Expelliarmus which is supposed to unarm an opponent. Snape yells Diffindo which is supposed to sever an object or a spell or in dire circumstances a person. Voldemort yells the killing curse."

"The question is," Draco looked at board, "who had the strongest magic at the time?"

"It wasn't Snape," Hermione drew a line through his name. "Snape was not as strong as Voldemort because he had just gotten the scar and weakened his magic, even if he didn't know it."

"All of our lines of magic connected," Harry said. "Then they merged into Snape. He exploded then because he wasn't strong enough to push back. The magic was trying to equal power between us, not realizing that I didn't want it to be equal."

"But once Snape scatters, what does that do to Harry?" Ron asked. "Does his magic increase still? Is that why he's been all super-power lately?"

"I don't know," Hermione pursed her lips. "The equalizing magic should wear off after a while, but this trade was big. This trade was so big that it required Snape to adopt Harry and bond with him, then use a powerful witch to monitor the trade which needed blood spilled to be enacted."

Harry looked down at the Dark Mark. "It - it doesn't hurt anymore," he faltered. "But this means that I'm responsible for Snape's scattering. I thought it was Voldemort, but I had the most power because I – I won. If I hadn't gone in there, Snape would still be alive."

"Nonsense," Hermione straightened, her old confidence back. "Snape would have died without your help. Now, he's just scattered. We still are going to need a wizard who can re-gather someone, but now that we know it's the marks, we should trace that. Snape's been scattered to places connected with his new mark, I bet you anything."

"So where do we search?" Harry asked though he had a sinking feeling he knew the answer.

"I'm sorry," Hermione gave him a sympathetic look. "But we should search places where you were connected to the scar. The place your parents died, the Ministry of Magic where Sirius died, the Chamber of Secrets, maybe Diagon Alley..."

"The Dursleys," Harry's face fell. "That's where we have to go first."

"Why?" Ron asked.

"Because it's Snape with my scar and it would take him somewhere that I would never want to go," Harry sank down in the chair Luna had vacated. "I thought I'd never have to go there again."

His friends said nothing.

"This is just so typical of Snape," Harry pushed back the tantrum that trembled throughout him to be expressed. "Doing what he wants when he wants. If he hadn't switched marks, none of this would have happened. I would have fought Voldemort and won, and we'd all be getting ready for Valentine's Day in a few weeks instead of hiding out here."

"You don't know that," Hermione said, "and you can't prove it. You might not have been strong enough to win, even with your scar."

"Maybe, but I don't like the other mark," Harry pulled his sleeve over the Dark Mark. "I feel like I'm wearing the sign of the evil that I tried to defeat."

Ron and Hermione shared a look, but then she turned back to her book.

"We need to sleep here tonight," she said.

"They'll come looking here for you tomorrow," Draco said. "We need to leave before daybreak. We can sleep in the woods if we need to."

Ron yawned as he straightened. "The car can hold four. I'll fly behind on my broom. Tomorrow night we can sneak around the Durleys and see what we find."

"I'll have more information then," Hermione took an empty seat and reached for one of the journals.

"Mione, you have to sleep," Ron insisted.

"I will," Hermione started reading. "But first I need to know what kind of things Snape knew about Harry. What did he find in all his research?"

"Go to bed, mate," Ron told Harry. "I'll take care of her. You go sleep with Luna."

"Lovely," Draco reached for the empty teacups. "I guess I'll be the only one huddled alone tonight. Just me and my one eye."

"Oh, hush," Hermione told him.

Harry went into the dark bedroom and stripped down to his shirt and shorts and climbed into bed with Luna. She was deep asleep, but Harry pulled close to her.

He had never felt so alone, betrayed, and helpless. Even in the dark, he kept seeing pictures of himself in Snape's lab and the writing on Hermione's board. The journals were full of him, someone had stolen his scar, and he was going back to a place where he had never been loved.

He had never before felt less like a person.


	5. A Pile of Memories

The sound of a door closing woke Harry up. He blinked and reached for his glasses.

Hermione looked at him apologetically. "Sorry, but we have to go. Everyone is at the car, but we wanted to let you sleep as long as possible."

"You should have woken me. Where's Luna?"

"She's already up." Hermione started putting Harry's things in a rucksack, avoiding his gaze. After so many years, he could read her movements easily, could tell when she was trying to hide something from him. He thought she might feel bad about what he had witnessed the day before, at how betrayed he had felt when he saw Snape's lab.

When they reached the car, Harry understood. Only Draco was there, wearing a sheepish expression under his eye patch.

"Where's Luna?" Harry felt his temper starting to rise.

"She's with Ron," Hermione got into the driver's seat of the car. "I sent them on an errand while you, me, and Draco leave in this car."

Draco ducked into the front seat, closing his one eye and covering his ears against the tirade he felt sure to happen.

Harry slammed into the backseat before he started yelling. "You sent her away! You sent her away without asking me? You are not in charge of this escapade, Hermione! She's pregnant with my child – she belongs with me."

He kept shouting at her, but she put on her determined face – pressed lips and cold eyes – as she got the car in the air and headed in the direction of the cold, gray dawn.

She waited until he ran out of breath, and when he sat in the backseat, panting, she finally spoke,

"Ron and I talked last night. We agreed that this mission would work better if we split up. I found a spell that might work, worth a shot at least, but we needed ingredients I don't have. Ron's gone to collect them, and as his mission is less dangerous than ours, I told him to take Luna."

"Without asking me?"

"We asked her. She agreed. We didn't ask you because you would throw a paddy that would wake Naricissa and half the county."

"The last time someone made a decision without me, Snape died," Harry's tone was low and angry.

Hermione glanced in the rearview mirror, and now her eyes were worried and scared. "I'm sorry, but this is poetic justice after all the times you ran off and left Ron and me in the dark."

"Touché," Draco muttered.

"And we all know you're a better warrior when you're not distracted by trying to protect a weaker person. You fight best without distractions."

"I fight better when I get to make my own choices," Harry said, but he could feel the rage smoldering inside of him. He could not believe that Hermione would go behind his back, and he hated her, and if anything happened to Luna he would tear Miss Know-It-All to pieces, and it hurt to be separated from Luna, and even then it would be harder to concentrate because –

"Mate," Draco looked back, "you're shaking the car."

Harry realized with a jolt that the car was shuddering up and down, and Hermione had a death grip on the wheel to control it.

It served her right after everything she had done, but Harry pushed down his anger until the car's motion smoothed out.

"Can you tell me where she went with Ron?"

"They went to Diagon Alley. That place is a mess after New Years, but Ron is going to slip around and get potions. Then he'll Floo out of there and meet Luna at Hogsmeade."

"He left Luna alone!"

"Just for a few hours. She's in disguise – both of them took an Aging Potion and rented a room at the inn."

Hermione switched gears, and Harry realized the car was lowering in front of Snapdragon Manor.

"What -?"

"My stop," Hermione let the car hover about three feet off the ground. Draco grabbed the steering wheel, and Hermione swung the strap of her bag over her head.

"Draco will explain the rest," Hermione opened the door and jumped to the ground. She sprinted towards the manor, and Draco slid into the driver's seat.

"Did you three stay up all night, talking and planning?"

"Sort of," Draco admitted. "I'm going to need you to drive for a while so I can catch a few hours of sleep. Hermione is going to Floo to several wizards' homes and get help. You're a hero now so people are eager to help. She'll meet Ron and Luna at Hogsmeade, and we'll all meet at Diagon Alley tonight."

"Well, why even have me along?" Harry was short and sarcastic. "Should have left me sleeping at your place while everyone else sneaks around."

"I took your side last night. I said we should tell you. I was outvoted."

"It's convenient that no one else is here to dispute that."

Draco grinned as he angled the car to the right. "Very convenient for me. But it's time that you let us do what we do best. Ron's good at going unnoticed. Hermione's good at talking and getting people on her side."

"And you're good at babysitting me?"

"We all have talents. Now, are you going to come up here or do I have to pretend to be your chauffeur as well?"

Harry crawled up to the front seat, grousing, "Why couldn't we Floo, too?"

The grin disappeared from Draco's face. "They're watching the Floos. You're still underage, something Ron and Hermione and I are not. Because of that, the Ministry's put a notice on the Floo networks that will tell them where you are."

Harry froze with his hand on the dashboard. "Are they trying to arrest me?"

"Not like that. They just think you've gone a bit mad. It's been less than two weeks since you killed Voldemort. The wizard world has gone mental, chasing down all Death Eaters. I've been reading the paper here, listening to the gossip on the radio, and the general consensus was that you were under observation at Hogwarts, carefully guarded and watched. Several idiots thought you should be transferred to St. Mungo's and tested."

Harry felt the hairs on the back of his neck prick. He remembered Snape warning him about the medi-wizards' interest in the Boy-Who-Lived, Snape's insistence that Harry stay away from St. Mungo's at all costs.

"Now that you've run off," Draco continued, "they're worried that you might hurt yourself or someone else. In fact," Draco glanced to the knobs on the dashboard, "you might find us some news. Did Weasley's dad hook this machine up to the wizard's station?"

"Maybe," Harry started punching buttons. "How did you learn to drive a car? A Muggle car?"

Draco shrugged. "I'm pretending like it's a big broom. And I'm just steering. It's different up here in the air – I won't hit anything except a bird or those metal flying things the Muggle have."

"Plane," Harry said as he turned the volume dial.

"My driving is not plain!"

"That's what they call the Muggle flying machine. Is this it?"

A shrill voice came through the radio.

_Welcome, wizards and witches and anyone else lucky enough to hear this announcement. It's early morning but the search for one Harry Potter is still on-going. After defeating the worst threat of the wizarding world, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, young Mr. Potter returned to Hogwarts, our famed school for rising magical scholars._

"For all magical scholars," Draco rolled his eyes.

_Mr. Potter disappeared after what is believed to be an attempted suicide._

Harry's jaw fell open.

_Mr. Potter is considered highly dangerous as he escaped with his wand. His magic has reached high, uncontainable levels that pose a threat to all persons near him. If you see him, do not approach him, but contact the Ministry of Magic through the Missing Persons Floo network._

The announcer went on, but Harry lowered the volume.

"I can't believe it," he confessed. "I mean, I've gone off before and they never sent the wizarding world after me."

"You never killed Voldemort before," Draco pointed out."And most of the time you were at Hogwarts. And that time last year when you broke into the Ministry, it was kept under wraps to not frighten people. Now the fright is gone, and we can join in a great, big Harry Potter hunt." He eyed Harry. "I wonder if there's a reward for turning you in."

"I should be with Luna," Harry slapped his hand on his knee. "What if she gets pulled into this? What if they take her in for questioning?"

"Well, right now, the only people who know she's pregnant with your baby are Ron, Hermione, and me. And you of course. Ron and Hermione are the ones they'll want to question, but good luck in catching them. Right now, Ron's looking about thirty-five and Hermione's jumping in and out of Floos so fast they'll never track her."

"How did I miss all this? How did I think I could just leave Hogwarts and no one would notice?"

"That's why you have friends. We notice the small details so you can go fight the dragons."

They fell silent for a while. Harry eventually switched places with Draco and let the blond sleep while the car flew towards Privet Drive.

Harry was glad for the quiet. After the betrayal yesterday and loneliness that had enveloped him, his emotions now brimmed over with the gratitude he felt for having friends. Without them, he would still be stuck at Hogwarts, probably under house arrest. They were looking out for him, even when he didn't know it or particularly want it.

The clock on the dashboard read 10:47 when they landed in Little Whinging. Harry had pushed the invisibility button so no one would spot them, and he wondered if the car ever needed fuel or oil or any of the other things Muggles did to their vehicles, but it kept running along, purring in the wind and rushing through the clouds.

They parked the car and walked down the street, Draco looking eagerly at a Muggle neighborhood. He carried Harry's Invisibility cloak, and they both had wands hidden in their jackets. Traces of snow were melting on the yards, dripping from eaves.

"Their snow looks just like our snow," Draco noticed.

Harry rolled his eyes and kept trudging, closer and closer to his hated childhood home. He wondered, for the thousandth time, what his life would be like if Snape had adopted him after his parents died. Would his life have been better, growing up in Snapdragon Manor and knowing he was a wizard from a young age?

He rarely thought about this place anymore, but each time it crossed his mind, he felt resentment. Dumbledore had said he sent Harry to live there so he could have an ordinary childhood and not grow up a spoiled prince. Well, there was a big difference between an ordinary childhood and an unwanted childhood, living under the stairs and playing with Dudley's hand-me-downs.

The house was dark when Harry stopped in front of it.

"Ugh, this is it?" Draco made a face. "It's tiny. You lived here with two other people?"

"Three."

"You must have taken turns sleeping. Where did your house-elves live?"

"Come on," Harry went towards the door. His heart thudded in his chest, and he gripped his wand inside his jacket. He hated this place and he wanted to be far from it. He hadn't been here since last summer when he went through the fireplace and freaked everyone out.

No one answered his knock.

Harry tried the handle, and the door opened.

Inside was dark and frigidly cold. From the light of the door, he could see the black graffiti scrawled on the wall – _Die, Muggle Bloods._

Harry ran through the house, leaving Draco in the doorway. Harry half-expected to see bodies, but the house was empty. And by empty, it was stripped of all signs that the Dursleys had ever lived there. The furniture and decorations were still present, but the pictures were all gone. The kitchen was empty of food, the bedroom closets had nothing inside them except hangers, and the mattresses of the beds lay bare without sheets or covers.

"Maybe we have the wrong house?" Draco offered as he climbed the stairs.

Harry stood in the second bedroom, the room they had grudgingly given him after finding out he was a wizard. This bedroom never had held much, but the posters of dragons were still on the wall. Harry knelt by the bed and lifted the thin dust-ruffle. Underneath was the book he had been reading right before he left, the book on Dark Magic objects. It was open and though a thick layer of dust covered the pages, he could see it was opened to the T's – _Timeturners_.

A wave of sorrow rolled over him, but Harry straightened.

"This was their home. Did they get kidnapped?"

"Most kidnappers don't let people take all their things with them," Draco said. "I think they left."

"And the message in the hall?"

"A threat not to come back. I'm no expert on magical crime, but I doubt Death Eaters would write that note if they had killed your family. A little too much of a signature, don't you think?"

"They weren't my family," Harry left the room. He had barely made it to the stairs when a sharp pop came from the main room.

He and Draco raced downstairs to see Hermione beating her way out of a repaired fireplace.

"What a mess," she groused as she kicked wood splinters and plaster out of her way. "Why can't they have a respectable fireplace like my parents?"

"Where's Luna?" Harry asked at the same time as Draco asked, "What have you found?"

"She's fine," Hermione shook the dust out her hair. "Ron checks on her every hour. I've been leading the Ministry on a chase, and I'm sorry to say it's a bit fun. But I bought a minute by going to the Ministry and hopping through their Floos, just to throw them off."

She set her bag on the ground and rubbed her shoulders. "So far, I have three wizards who have agreed to help. We're going to perform all spells starting at two. Two wizards will perform a gathering spell, the third will do a solidifying spell. Ron and Luna will cast a healing spell from Hogwarts, and I'll be in Diagon Alley with a directional spell."

"You work fast," Draco nodded.

She grinned quickly before continuing, "Harry, you and Draco will be here in the backyard. Harry, you will use all this newly-found power to channel all spells through Draco and materialize them in the Dursleys' backyard."

"Magic in a Muggle place?" Draco raised his eyebrows.

"I know, I know," Hermione re-shouldered her bag. "This will be a real crime, punishable in wizard court, but it's here that Harry grew up. Some of his earliest, most-powerful emotions happened here, and with the exchange of marks, more of Snape may be here as well. Gather up any objects of memory that you can find. Got to go."

With a flash of green, Hermione disappeared into the fireplace.

"Quick," Harry grabbed the Cloak out of Draco's hand and shoved him into the kitchen. Harry barely had time to fling the Cloak over them when the Floo popped several times.

"Is she here?" a male voice said.

"No one. What is this place?" a woman said.

"It's Harry Potter's childhood home," the man said.

"We should search here," the woman said.

"Harry wouldn't come here," said another female voice. Harry realized with a skipped heartbeat that it was McGonagall. "He hated this place."

"Stop being sentimental," the other woman said. "Search the house."

Harry and Draco remained still on the floor as McGonagall appeared in the doorway. She looked so frazzled and exhausted that Harry felt a pang of loyalty pushing him to throw the Cloak off and assure her that he was all right.

Draco shook his head the smallest bit, and Harry stayed still until she had left the room.

"That blasted girl is leading us on a goose-chase," the other woman complained from the lounge. "Let's leave her and chase after her boyfriend. That Weasley has to be somewhere close."

"Those children are good at hiding," McGonagall sighed. "They do this over and over again, but at least Hogwarts had a limit."

"Granger's been spotted in London," the man said. "If we split up, we have a chance at finding her quicker."

They each shouted out a different location in London, and with three pops, the house fell silent again.

Draco flung off the Cloak and folded it carefully. "Let's get searching for your stuff. If we bring Snape back, may I have your Cloak?"

"No."

"Can I borrow it to snog a girl underneath?"

Harry didn't answer as he headed to the hall to open the cupboard door. The space underneath where he had slept seemed tinier than ever. With the extra muscle and height he had put on, Harry couldn't imagine ever fitting in there, let alone playing with toys or reading books.

The bed had been removed, but in the crack of one wall, he found remnants of his childhood: a broken soldier's gun, a dingy coin, scraps of paper with treasure maps, a popsicle stick.

Draco disappeared when Harry started on the bedroom upstairs, ripping down the posters and emptying the drawers. When he came back, Draco had a bag of sandwiches and cold bottles of drink.

"You have to eat something," Draco handed him a sandwich and a drink.

"How did you pay for this?" Harry tore into the sandwich.

"I used the Cloak to steal from the small mart down the street," Draco looked at the bottle suspiciously. "Why is this blue?"

"It's raspberry-flavored. And be careful with my Cloak."

The food helped reinvigorate them, and shortly after one o'clock, Harry was in the backyard with Draco and piles of stuff that Harry had used, touched, or watched in the past years. Some of the stuff was a stretch, like the cracked cup he drank from as a small child, but as he had hated that cup, it made sense to put it in the pile even though Harry was sure it had been washed many times since he had last used it.

The last thing to join was the Cloak, and Harry took out his wand. "Are we going to get more information on this spell I'm supposed to perform?"

"Hermione said your superpowers would know what to do," Draco glanced down at the pile. "I'm sorry, Potter, but your memories are a load of rubbish. Did you ever have anything nice when you lived here?"

"Can you be serious for one second?" Harry snapped.

"Serious?" Draco straightened. "I'm terrified. I don't know what these spells are or if they'll even work. Your precious Hermione said it was a long shot at best. We fought a war and I lost an eye. The fact that I lost it fighting with my father does not help me feel better about my current situation, nor does it help me now that you are trying to get your father back. We fought a war and I'm half-blind, half-orphaned, and you got even more magic and more powers. How is any of this fair?"

"Draco –"

"And now all your friends are rallying around you, protecting you, making sure you get made whole again. I'm sorry if I don't seem serious enough."

Draco fell silent, his teeth clenched together. Harry looked down at his sad piles of stuff and shuffled his feet together.

"You can borrow the Cloak," he said tentatively. "And my broom. Ad we can work to get your sight back next. And heal Ron's face. And make sure Luna's baby isn't a monster. Just help me for now."

"If I lose another eye channeling this magic, you'll be sorry," Draco said, but the anger was gone from his voice.

"Let me do this on my own. If you get hurt again –"

"Shut it, Potter. I want Snape back as much as you do. We should have a blanket though. I doubt he'll come back with any clothes."

Harry went back to the house and found a large cotton blanket in one of the closets. He brought it to the backyard and set it aside from the pile of memories.

When two o'clock neared, Draco stood up and faced Harry. Draco's hands were shaking as he took out his wand.

The sky was turning gray, clouds were rolling in and thunder was rumbling. Harry could feel magic surging through the quiet neighborhood, just like the night the Dementors had come after him.

"If we don't get Snape back this time, we'll try again," Draco said. "Remember that."

Then he stepped back, put the wand between his teeth, and held his arms out. "I'm ready."

Harry fleetingly thought about all the warnings the teachers had given him over the years about unstable magic, and how dangerous it was, and how they should never, ever mess around with magic. All those warnings and lectures and scoldings when they treated magic too lightly, and now they were about to bring someone back, someone who had died for all practical reasons.

"Scattered, not dead, scattered," Harry whispered under his breath.

He pointed his wand at Draco. Were there any spell words to speak?

Thunder slammed overhead, and Draco's eyes went wide. Harry held the wand steady and began focusing energy into the ground in front of him, pulling it from Draco and pushing it down in front of him.

The wind rose up, thrashing the trees. Ribbons of white light began shimmering over the backyard, and a stream of white energy poured out of Draco, gathering at the tip of Harry's wand, and streaming down to the ground.

It took all of Harry's strength to grip the wand, and he realized that Draco had risen several feet off the ground. Harry looked down; he was floating as well. The pile of memories started to rise, like they were all floating in a pool.

The next crack of thunder split the ground open, and Harry was staring down at a chasm filled with light. When he looked up, he saw two barrels of lights falling towards him, one red, one blue, streaking through the clouds like falling stars and dropping towards him.

The light was so bright all around him, unbearable in its intensity, and the two streams of light smashed down on him.

For a second, there was nothing – silence and black. And then there was everything – smashing earth, Draco screaming, light pulsing, energy drawing together, all of it throbbing through Harry.

He fell to his knees as the chaos died away. Draco had been tossed away like a doll. The pile of stuff was ripped to shreds. Ashes floated down, dirty in the sunlight that peeked through the fading clouds.

Harry lifted his head.

A man crouched in front of him, dirty hair hiding his face.

Harry froze, his own heartbeat thudding in his ears as the man lifted his head.

The black eyes. The long nose. The pale face framed by dark hair.

Harry felt a sob rise up in his throat, and he wanted to howl in relief. It was Snape. Snape was back. Snape was here, here with him again.

Draco limped over and flung the blanket over Snape's shoulders.

Snape rose shakily, blinking, but Harry ran towards him. He flung his arms around the taller man and hugged him hard, ragged emotion slamming in him over and over again as he gripped Snape for dear life.

"Harry," Draco said. Something in his voice was wary, frightening in its quietness.

Even as Harry pulled back, he felt the edge of fear that something was wrong.

Snape stared back at him, but the man's face was blank, his eyes empty.

"Snape? Snape?" Harry swallowed. "Snape, we brought you back. Snape, can you hear me?"

The man tilted his head to the side. "I'm sorry," he said in a voice that sounded like Snape's, but wasn't his. "Who are you?"

Harry felt the blood drain from his face, and his ears roared with white noise.

"Oh, no," Draco said, running fingers through his magic-singed hair, "Hermione said this might happen."

Harry drew back from the man in front of him, the not-Snape man. "Are you saying he has amnesia? He doesn't remember me?"

"It's more than that, I think?" Draco came closer. "Hi, I'm Draco. Do you know your name?"

Snape glanced at Harry and then back to Draco. "I – I – what is a name?"

"Do you remember what has happened to you?" Draco pressed.

"You put this on me," Snape gestured to the blanket. "Then I stood up."

"Oh, dear," Draco bit his bottom lip. He stepped back and Harry followed him.

"What is wrong with him?" Harry's voice was still and deadly.

"Ah, yes," Draco looked reluctant, "well, Snape was scattered, right? We brought him back with some impressive magic and I didn't think it would work, but it did. But it wasn't enough. We have Snape's body, but that's rather all of it."

"He doesn't have his memories?"

"No, no, not that. He doesn't have his soul."

At the look on Harry's face, Draco hurried on, "He's missing his soul, his self, everything that makes him . . . him. He's blank without a memory. I don't know – Hermione can explain it better."

"He has no soul?" Harry stared at the man.

The man, so like Snape in every way except the important ones, looked back and gave him a slight smile.

That smile faded as he watched the dark-haired teenager give a scream of rage and despair. The man stepped back, fearful as the boy kept shouting and the ground quaked underneath. The blond-haired boy kept trying to talk to calm him down, but the dark-haired boy seemed beyond words or comfort.


	6. Confrontation

Harry stared down at the mess of fish and chips in front of him, the standard pub fare.

They were in some hidden village up north, a place known for its tourism because of some close sight about British history. There were dozens of such towns in Britain; Hermione had chosen this one because it had an influx of visitors in icy January and they could blend in without notice.

At the inn next door, Ron had attracted the attention of the owner who had stared at the scars on Ron's face.

Ron had laughed it off as a school prank gone awry. "It makes me glad to put all that school rubbish behind me," he had grinned. "But me mum gave me another month to wander with my mates," he had indicated Harry and Hermione as Draco and Luna had stayed in the car with Snape, "before I have to go home to work the family business. Parents, you know. Always want the last word."

The owner had laughed at Ron's despairing look, and three rooms were ordered up quickly.

Now, Harry sat in the pub, trying to focus on eating instead of the man sitting beside him.

Moments after Snape had been brought back, Ron showed up with clothes and Snape got dressed and put in the car. They were pulling out of the Dursleys' neighborhood when the Ministry showed up. The backyard of the Dursleys' house lay in ruins, savaged by the magic.

Ron had promptly jumped out of the car and used his wand to shoot off harmful curses and hexes, distracting the wizards until Draco could drive the car to safety.

The next few hours were spent dodging the Ministry in a long game of tag and partner switching. They Flooed in and out of wizard and Muggle fireplaces; they swapped companions: Harry went with Ron and then with Hermione and then back to Draco who had left Snape with Ron one switch before.

Harry had moved swiftly and quietly, drawing on the training that Snape had instilled in him, the ability to close his mind and concentrate on using his body. But every time he met up with this Snape, the jolt of reality and fear hit him again. Snape wasn't himself – he was just a shell.

But each time Snape moved, whether out of need or reflex, Harry would jerk his view to the man, hoping that the real Snape had come back. One time as they crouched in the dark cellar of a farmhouse, waiting for Hermione, Snape had actually touched his wrist, and Harry's heart had leapt forward in eagerness.

"Snape? Snape, is that you? Are you back?"

But the man had stared at him before indicating his legs. "They hurt."

Harry pushed back his disappointment long enough to reply. "Your knees? Yeah, they hurt from crouching so long. We just have to wait a few more seconds."

Snape had nodded, so trusting and calm that Harry wanted to bawl. The old Snape would have been rigid, tense with adrenaline, with his eyes carefully searching for danger. He probably would have looked at Harry every so often with a silent warning to be careful and to behave and to not think for a second that this was over because they were having a long conversation about this when they got home.

Eventually, they lost the Ministry. Ron hinted something about hexing other people to look like them, and Hermione shot a glance at Harry to see if he would inquire about the fates of the poor hexed Muggles, but Harry let it go. Hexes would wear off and the Ministry would realize their mistake and who cared about anything with Snape standing there, blank, silent, and nonresponsive.

The waitress put a plate of food in front of Snape and the man glanced at Harry.

"Eat it," Harry said dully.

Snape reached out to grab the food, but Harry caught his arm.

"With a fork," he handed one to Snape.

Snape watched Draco eat for a moment and then started using the fork. He was clumsy at first, but ingrained practice overrode his lack of memory and he stared eating hungrily.

Hermione swallowed hard. "I'm – I'm sorry, Harry. I thought he would come back . . . all the way."

An angry retort hung on the tip of Harry's tongue, a short phrase to mock Hermione's confidence in her own abysmal skills, but he pushed it back.

"It's not your fault," he managed a weak smile. "You got his body back."

"She was afraid," Ron said in a low voice, "that the longer we left him scattered the worse he might be when we put him together. His soul's still out there, but what good is a soul without a whole body?"

"We're already half there," Luna smiled. She had three orders of dessert in front of her, but Harry chalked it up to pregnancy cravings.

"The soul might be trickier," Hermione said. "I thought about –"

"Eat something," Ron said gently. "Then you can talk. You haven't eaten since this morning."

She flashed him a sweet look at his concern and began to tuck in.

Harry watched Luna eat the dessert and he realized he didn't know when she had eaten at all. Did love mean looking out for your partner, taking care of them? Harry hadn't spent much time with Luna at all that day, but he wouldn't have told her to eat if he had. Wasn't adulthood about taking care of yourself? Wasn't it about shouldering your burdens and not needing anything from anyone else? Independence was always better than codependence, but was love about the want to watch after someone else, to make sure they felt loved and cherished, to put them before yourself?

"Harry," Snape said.

The table went silent.

His voice was the same as the old Snape, the same baritone that deepened into a bass when he was angry and rose into a tenor when he was surprised. Yet, the emotion behind it was blank, empty. They had all told him their names, but he only addressed Harry.

"Yes, Snape?" Harry asked.

"I'm – I'm," Snape struggled to find the right words. He knew them when the others talked, but most of his speech was short, childlike, so vague that they had to supply him with more descriptive language.

"Are you still hungry?" Hermione guessed.

Snape looked at his empty plate and shook his head.

"Tired?" Harry asked. "Are you ready to go to sleep?"

Snape hesitated, unsure, and Harry stood up.

"Come on, let's get you to bed."

"Your food –" Ron started, but Hermione interrupted,

"We'll keep it here for you. Here, you and Snape have the middle room," she handed Harry the key.

"I would have stayed with him," Draco objected. "That way Harry could share with Luna and you could share with Ron."

Immediately, Hermione turned scarlet, and Ron choked on his fish.

"Oh," Draco nodded, "haven't gotten that far, have you, mates? Well, if you want to join Harry and Luna on that bandwagon, I won't tell. I'll even lend you a rubber."

"Draco!" Hermione gasped. "Be quiet and eat."

Draco looked at them devilishly, a look compounded with his eye-patch, but he started eating.

"It was nice," Luna said to Hermione between bites of cream topping. "Though Harry did cry at the end."

"Luna!" Draco, Hermione, and Ron snapped at her, making her jump in surprise.

Snape had stood, but he turned in puzzlement to Harry. "Sex?"

Harry's heart pounded in his chest as he forced himself to meet Snape's gaze. "Yeah, er, we had, we did the . . . the sex. "

A frown fleeted around Snape's face but it disappeared so fast that Harry thought he had imagined it. "Sex is – is –"

"What?" Harry grabbed Snape's arm. "What is it?"

"I don't know," Snape said. "I just felt when you said – I felt –"

"What?" Harry leaned close. "What did you feel?"

"I can't remember," Snape admitted after a moment of struggle.

Harry dropped his hand in defeat.

"It's a trace," Hermione said, her blush gone as she reverted back to her old informative self. "The old Snape felt very strongly about you not having sex so it makes sense that his shell recalls those feelings."

"Snape never wanted anyone to have fun," Draco said.

"He didn't want Harry to get anyone pregnant," Ron argued.

"Oops," Draco motioned to Luna.

"Do most boys cry at the end of sex?" Luna asked Hermione.

"Luna!"

"Oh, come on, Snape," Harry pulled him towards the door.

He got Snape up to the room and into the bathroom. Fortunately, Snape remembered how to do all the personal acts of using the bathroom, undressing, and taking a shower.

Harry kept the door open a crack with a warning ward cast over the shower in case Snape fell, but the man came out in shorts and a shirt with wet hair.

"I'm clean," Snape stated.

"Good job," Harry managed a smile. "Well, it's time to get in bed."

Snape crawled in obediently, settling on the pillow with a tired sigh. "Are you leaving?"

"What? Oh, in a minute," Harry looked at the twin bed beside Snape. For a moment, nothing sounded better to his bone-weary body than collapsing on the mattress and nothing sounded better to his soul than giving into tears and misery.

But the others were still at the pub and he needed to eat and right now at that moment, he was the adult. He didn't choose that role, but like most things in his life, he hadn't been given a real choice.

"Harry," Snape was fighting to keep his eyes open, "who – who were those –"

"Those people? They're my friends," Harry sat down beside the bed. "I've known them for years. Ron and Hermione are my best friends. I would do anything for them. Draco's a new friend – I got to know him over this last summer. Luna is my – my, er, girlfriend. She's going to have my baby because I – we –"

"Had the sex."

"Yes," Harry ruefully smiled. "We had the sex. I did it, and I deserve all the consequences of what comes next. Pretty much the story of my life. I'll just take my punishment like a man."

"It won't be that bad," Snape looked so worried that Harry reached over and squeezed his shoulder.

"Just remember that later when we get your soul back and I tell you then."

"But who am I?" Snape asked. "I feel like I should know. Something is missing."

"You are someone special to me," Harry cleared his throat. "You took me in and you helped me become a better person. You had an accident and you wanted to let go and give up, but I said no. I got you here, and you're a little sick now, but we're going to take care of you until you get better."

"What if I don't get better?"

A hand of fear gripped Harry's heart, but he ignored it, pretending like cold sweat hadn't broken out over him. "If you don't get better, I will still take care of you. I will make sure you have everything you need and I won't leave you and we will figure out everything when that happens. But I'm going to work hard to get you back together."

Snape's eyes fluttered as he fought to stay awake. "You don't seem old. Shouldn't you – you –"

"Shouldn't someone be taking care of me? Yes, it should be that way. But you know, Snape," Harry ran a hand through his hair until it stood up at the front in the way the old Snape had hated, "you have to let things happen. You were always on me, criticizing each little thing I did. I couldn't talk back, I couldn't step outside your rules without you punishing me, I was treated like a little child. I'm not little. I was fifteen, not five. I've always risen to the challenge of whatever I have to face. I'd like to be bawling right now, but I'm holding it together because I'm grown-up. Yes, for the last few months, it was nice to have a little freedom from so many worries, but going from worrying about killing Voldemort to worrying about getting smacked for misbehaving isn't exactly a vacation. When we get you back, I'm not letting things go back to that again. I'm not – I want to let you know right now. Do you understand that?"

He looked down. Snape was fast asleep.

Harry rose and pulled the covers up over Snape's shoulders. The man didn't rouse.

"So, no arguing with me. Now, you just fall asleep. I never get to win."

Harry stepped towards the door, but hesitated. He reached into his pocket and pulled out his wand. He rolled the wand between his fingers, thinking, weighing his choices.

It was worth just a small bit of magic. Even if it alerted the Ministry. Even if it got him into trouble with Hermione.

"_Legilimens_," he pointed the wand at Snape's head. "_Legilimens_. _Legilimens_!"

Nothing happened.

Harry flopped down in the chair.

"You brainless child," Snape's voice snapped through the room.

Harry jerked upright. The man in the bed was fast asleep.

Harry turned around.

The real Snape was standing against the wall, frowning with his arms crossed.

Harry broke into a grin, resisting the urge to get up and fling his arms around the tall man. "Snape, it's the real you. Are we in your head? But . . . you're not even in there."

"Articulate as usual," Snape walked over to the bed to look down at himself sleeping. "Where to start? Did you put my body to bed?"

"Yes, he was tired."

"With wet hair in January? Good grief, Harry, do you want me to catch pneumonia or are you just that unobservant?"

Heat stained Harry's cheeks, but he refused to admit it. "So he has wet hair. You once made me run laps outside in the snow without a shirt."

"To train you against extreme temperature shifts and I put you in a hot bath right after. I dosed you with potions and got you to sleep in a heated bed that night."

"Oh, I'm Severus Snape," Harry mocked. "I think of everything except how to keep myself together in the final fight."

Snape was not amused. "I'm deliberating whether to demand the whole story or just spank you now and listen to the reasons later."

"How much do you know?" Harry hedged. "Do you have the other you's memories?"

"No, thank goodness," Snape continued to frown. "Those I'm sure they'll all come back once you bring my soul back to my body."

"So I'm talking to your soul," Harry leaned back in the chair. "Your soul can't do anything to me."

"Don't be so sure."

"You smacked me last time we went into my head," Harry countered. "But you were a whole entity then. Now, we're in your empty head, and I'm talking to a representation of your soul. Sorry, not scared of you."

"Stop arguing and tell me what you've done so far. The last time we talked I tried to say goodbye, and you ruined that moment by telling me you slept with Luna and then you were coming to find me."

"That's right," Harry nodded, not quite meeting the Soul Snape's eyes. "I slept with Luna. Nothing else with her. But since then we escaped Hogwarts and found Draco –"

"You brought Draco into this?" Snape demanded. "And who is this we?"

"Ron, Hermione, and Luna."

"What?" even as an apparition, Snape could shout pretty loud. "I thought you would go off on your own to try to find me, but I felt confident that the teachers wouldn't let you go far."

"McGonagall's been chasing us for a while," Harry admitted, "along with the Ministry. We kind of blew up the Dursleys' backyard bringing you back."

"What? You did magic outside the school? You're under-age!"

"Oh, you want to cast blame?" Harry stood up. "I saw that room at the Manor. I saw what you had done. All that research on me. I was an experiment to you, a potion you could make and control. Try to deny that."

"I don't deny anything," Snape met his gaze unflinchingly. "I collected every bit of information I could about you – your friend, your parents, your magic, your body, your memories, your magic."

"But why? Why would you do that do me?"

"I had to know everything I could before we exchanged the marks." Snape tilted his head back, and Harry could see the clear skin on his forehead. "But our marks burned out when we killed Voldemort."

"No," Harry thrust up his sleeve and held out his arm with the Dark Mark on it, "I still have mine."

The confident, stern look disappeared from Snape's face as he stared at the mark. "You still have it? No, no, no! You were supposed to lose it. You were supposed to be free after this. You were supposed to live."

Chills crept up Harry's body at Snape's tone. "It - it doesn't hurt."

"You shouldn't have it."

A knock sounded on the door. "Harry?" Hermione called.

The room began to waver, but Snape reached out and snapped his fingers. "No, Harry, pay attention. Don't go just yet."

"Harry, are you in there?" Hermione sounded urgent.

"Harry, Harry, look at me," Snape grew frantic. "Have you been stronger since you killed Voldemort?"

"I've been strong since you trained me," Harry tried not to look away, willing the moment to last a little longer.

"But has your magic grown stronger? Have you been casting stronger spells? Have you been seeing things?"

"I've been lucky," Harry said. "Things just start coming to me, finding me. I know the right book or box to use before I open it."

"Oh, no," Snape stepped back. "I was wrong. My calculations were all wrong. You were supposed to be weaker."

"Weaker?"

"Harry?" Hermione jiggled the handle hard. "Harry, open up now!"

"I was wrong. Wrong, wrong," Snape staggered around in desperation. "I didn't see this happening. You kept the Mark. Your magic is over-powering. You – you brought my body back on the first try. Sweet Merlin, what has happened to you?"

Snape looked at him with terror, and Harry's eyes filled with tears.

"No, no, Snape. It's still me. I'm still Harry. I'm the boy you took in, the one you adopted, the one you cared about. I don't care about that room. I'll be your experiment. Please, please."

On the other side of the door, Hermione was speaking a spell to blow open the door.

"Harry," Snape's tone was deadly serious, "whatever happens, don't do it. Don't listen to –"

Harry jerked up in the chair as Hermione sent the door into shreds of splinters.

"They're here, the Ministry," she shouted. "Draco's hiding Luna, and Ron's ready to lead them off. You and Snape –"

Harry glanced at the sleeping man who hadn't shifted even with the burst of the door. For a moment, Harry thought about breaking into sobs, about throwing up, about screaming in rage, about blowing the inn and all the rooms sky high until his anger felt sated.

He reached into his pocket for his wand. His fingertips brushed something hard and round.

It was the pocketwatch Snape had given him for his birthday. Snape who had lectured him about controlling himself at all times. Snape who had spied on him, experimented on him, used him. Snape who had just admitted being wrong, all wrong.

Well, wrong about one thing – underestimating one Harry Potter. And Snape couldn't be all wrong; he had chosen Harry.

"Stay here with Snape," Harry told Hermione. "I'm going to face them."

"Harry, no," Hermione grabbed his hand in fear. "They'll beat you. They'll lock you up. They'll take you away from us."

"Hermione, trust me," Harry gave her a half-grin. "They have no idea who they're dealing with. Nobody has, not even you. And especially not Snape."

"But we lost them. I thought we were safe. I worked so hard to lose them –" Hermione dropped off as her eyes filled with tears.

"You did. I used magic and it alerted them. It's my fault. I needed to know something. But I'm not going to sacrifice all of you for me. You guys get to safety and I'll find you later. Take care of Snape and Luna. That's your job now. I'll take care of myself."

"I should stop you," Hermione said, but she let go of his hand.

"Sorry, no one can stop me now," Harry gave her a last smile.

He couldn't look at the sleeping Snape; that would have been too hard.

He went out the door and walked down the stairs.

The night was dark and frigid cold as he stepped down the two steps from the door.

They were waiting for him. The members of the Ministry stood there, at least a dozen adults with their wands drawn.

Medi-witches and wizards from St. Mungo's were there, standing to one side. One tall wizard was holding what looked like a straightjacket. Two wizards were holding a medical stretcher, but this one had restraining straps.

At the front of the group stood McGonagall, Mr. Weasley, Mrs. Longbottom, and Nurse Pomfrey.

Harry looked at the adults on the ground. Then he raised his gaze to the sky.

Five wizards were on brooms with their wands drawn. Behind them, floating hazily against the cloudy sky were two black shapes.

"Dementors," Harry whispered to himself. "They had to bring Dementors."

He shut the inn door behind him and stepped forward into the icy night.


	7. Opponents

Harry braced himself against the doorframe, his eyes quickly taking in all the opposing forces standing against him. Once before, in a training exercise, Snape had set him up against twenty magical foes, transformed from various pieces of furniture around the training room. The objects had come after him, growling, snarling, and grotesque, wood and stone turned into enemies.

He had tried to fight them, to beat them back with magic and with physical force, but they had overcome him in less than ten minutes. Snape had rescued him, but Harry had been furious. He had kicked the wall, spitting and seething, refusing a healing potion for his bruises and scrapes.

"No, no!" he had yelled. "I'm not taking that. You bring them back to life and let me have a go at them again. I'll rip them to pieces!"

Snape had gripped his shoulder and turned him to face the wall, pressing him there until Harry's rage had abated enough for him to listen.

"The point of this activity," Snape had explained, "is not to send you into a mad fit. The point is to train your instincts, to get you to a place of calm calculation where you act, not react."

Harry had taken the potion and healed, and then Snape reanimated the furniture. He had tried again.

In the frigid air, Harry blew out a long breath of air, letting it puff in front of him as he surveyed his foes.

Calm.

Be calm.

Listen to your heartbeat.

Slow it down.

Relax.

"So you've come after me?" Harry spoke, his voice almost dull. "You've come to take me away."

"No," McGonagall said. She swallowed. Harry noticed the lines of her throat. She looked tired, worn out. "We're just trying to help you, Harry."

"You think I'm a danger to myself," Harry went on.

Be calm, don't react.

"A lot has happened to you," she went on, taking half a step forward. Mr. Weasley stayed behind her. He looked awkward and uncomfortable and very nervous.

Harry tightened the grip on his wand. He could feel the Dementors trying to get at him, suck away his will to act, force him to despair.

"We're going to get you that help," McGonagall said, the usual teacher voice creeping into her tone. "I've spoken with the doctors a St. Mungo's, and they are going to take good care of you. There're healing spells, treatment, therapy."

"You want to lock me up there?"

"No," Madame Pomfrey spoke up, "we just want to help you."

"You can't. You don't have that authority," Harry tried to buy time. "Dumbledore won't let you, and he has the final –"

"Dumbledore's gone," Mrs. Longbottom interrupted. "He died from wounds of the final battle."

Harry's world stopped.

Fear.

Terror.

Panic.

McGonagall was saying something about how old Dumbledore had been, how sickly he had been over the last year, and how he had gotten the wounds fighting off three Deatheaters from hurting a family with small children.

Harry felt his eyes crowd with tears. Not Dumbledore, too. First Snape, and now Dumbledore. When had he seen Dumbledore last? Why hadn't anyone told him at school? He had been in the hospital wing but afterwards, he had gone back to his rooms. Dumbledore hadn't been at the Great Hall during meals, but Harry assumed he was off on official business. Many teachers had been missing; a lot of students were gone, too. The holidays and the final battle – he hadn't really seen anyone except Ron, Hermione, and Luna. But – but –

Harry looked up. Everyone had drawn closer while he had scrambled to think.

It is over. It is done. Just go with them.

Go to the hospital and let them take care of you.

Don't fight.

You've lost already.

He looked down.

On the toe of his right shoe was a smudge of mud.

That night in the dungeons, he had gone after the bewitched objects again. He had destroyed about five of them before they overcame him. Instead of bursting in a rage, he had been quiet as Snape chilled a compress and held it on the back of his neck to stop his bleeding nose. Harry had stared down at his shoes, watching drops of blood splatter on the scuffed toes.

"You did better," Snape had said.

"I still lost."

"The point is not to win. The point is training yourself to fight against more than one thing at a time."

Harry had said nothing.

"Sometimes," Snape had held the compress steady on the back of Harry's neck, "you go up against too many foes. You can't jump in the middle of a great maw and expect to defeat everyone at once. They outnumber you physically, they can cast spells all at once, they can distract you."

"I've fought more than one person at a time," Harry had protested. "I know I can do it."

"Listen," Snape's voice had deepened. "I'm trying to teach you something. It's not the winning that counts – it's learning how to fight. It's learning how to take care of yourself. Think about when you get into trouble. What do I do?"

Harry had edged away, hoping he wasn't about to get swatted.

"Hold still and answer the question."

"You . . . punish me," Harry had answered, not quite brave enough to add "_even though I'm too old for it and it's not necessary_."

"No, what do I do before that? I always ensure that you're safe first. Safety always comes first, then reprimand if it's warranted. It's the same with battling enemies. You put everything else aside to save yourself first. Later you can feel guilty or punish yourself or reflect on whatever you think you missed, but in the heat of the moment, you always make sure you are safe first."

"But I have to save other people fir-"

"Oh, no, you don't," Snape had given him a cuff to the shoulder which hadn't really hurt, but had quieted Harry's objections. "What good are you ripped into pieces on a battlefield? How can you help anyone then?"

"So run away to fight another day?" Harry had quipped.

"Of course. Run and let your opponents come to you. Put aside all that arrogant confidence that makes you challenge your enemy to a fight, and let him come after you. You have the upper hand then. He's moving aggressively while you're watching, waiting, anticipating. Set aside everything and concentrate on saving yourself. You can always fight later."

That seemed like a lifetime ago, but it was true.

Harry looked up from his shoes, his eyes alert.

Dumbledore later, grief later, despair later.

Survival now.

Too many in the air to try to out-fly them. Couldn't go back in the inn because Soulless Snape was upstairs and needed to stay a secret. Couldn't wait for backup from the good side because, well, this group was the good side. Or at least they had been.

"I'm sorry about Dumbledore," Harry said, wishing his voice wasn't so tight. "You should have told me though. You want me to fight your battles, but the moment they're over, you keep me in the dark. No wonder I don't trust you."

The adults exchanged side glances.

"We're sorry," Mr. Weasley finally spoke. "We've tried our best, really. But with bad information and politics and keeping the powers that be happy . . . but you took my son. You took Ron with you."

Every fiber of Harry's being wanted to apologize. He liked Mr. Weasley, and what's more, he respected him.

"I didn't take him," Harry heard himself say, barely realizing it. "He chose to come with me. I've never made anyone do anything they didn't want to do. I give everyone a choice, something all of you have never given me."

Mr. Weasley glanced at Mrs. Longbottom, but said nothing.

"In light of this new development," McGonagall said as if she hadn't heard Harry, "guardianship has been placed in the hands of Mrs. Longbottom and myself."

What? McGonagall as a guardian? Fine. But Mrs. Longbottom? That was so –

No, no! Resist reacting. Resist thinking about how cold and distant she had been as Madame Moretta. Save that for later.

"So the both of you think I need to be committed?" Harry said. "I'm not capable of making my own decisions?"

"The grief you have gone through-" Madame Pomfrey started, but McGonagall shook her head.

"There will be time to talk about this later. We have always had the best intentions for you, Harry. We have always been worried about you – you've been through so much, more than one person should have to bear."

"So you track me down like a wild dog? You bring your authority, your doctors," he glared at the medi-wizards, "your traps," at the straitjacket and the cot, "your mood controls," at the Dementors. "You come here to subdue me, to take me away quietly? My days of being quiet are over."

"If you had just told someone," Mrs. Longbottom frowned. "If you had just let on what was happening. Instead you run off, blow things up, throw this temper tantrum."

"You think this is a temper tantrum?" Harry asked coldly. He could feel the magic drawing in, but he felt oddly removed, distanced from his emotions, in control. "You haven't seen me throw a temper tantrum."

The adults were watching him warily, hands on their wands. A few of the medi-wizards had taken out enchanted straps that looped in the air, ready to ensnare prey.

He looked straight at McGonagall. "They brought you here because they thought I would come quietly. That I wouldn't want to hurt you. You either," glancing at Mr. Weasley. "I don't want to hurt anyone. Unfortunately, I'm still under orders to save myself before I save anyone else."

The doorway behind him started cracking with ice.

"Snape is gone, Harry!" McGonagall was tense. "You have to accept that. You have to let someone else take care of you. You need help."

"Put down your wand and come forward slowly," Mrs. Longbottom ordered. "If you resist, we will have to use force."

Harry desired nothing in that moment except to act, to throw himself into frenzied action. But he forced himself to stand still, drawing in so much magic that the air pulsed.

"Harry Potter," a member of the Ministry spoke, "you are under arrest and medical confinement for attempting to hurt yourself, committing truancy against your guardians and school, performing underage magic, and vandalizing a Muggle's home. You will be placed under medical care at St. Mungo's until such time as they deem you no longer a threat to yourself or to others. Surrender now."

Harry smiled lazily. "You want me? Come and get me."

A few members of the Ministry stepped forward to answer the challenge, but Mrs. Longbottom held up an arm.

"No, wait. Send the Dementors first."

Harry felt justified in every awful thing he had ever thought about her. The two dark shapes in the sky swooped down for him, and the gloomy darkness that they brought pressed down on Harry.

He raised his wand and shouted, "_Expecto Patronum_!"

The light that blasted from his wand was so bright Harry was nearly blinded by it. He saw the stag bound out of the flash, throbbing with his magic. It went after the two Dementors, and Harry took his chance.

He jumped off the doorstep to the right, somersaulting behind a shrub and leaping to his feet in a flat-out run. He sprinted behind the inn as a stupefying curse hit the corner of the building. Wood shattered off the eaves, but Harry didn't even pause. He broke to the left and headed for the woods. Battles against a few foes were easier in a cleared space. Battles with many foes were easier in wooded area or a building, anywhere that he would be able to hide.

All those endless lessons that Snape had drilled into him came back, appearing in his mind so smoothly that Harry had time to act on each one.

Stay down.

Move erratically so they don't have a clear target.

Every few seconds, use small amounts of magic to distract. Don't use powerful spells against the foe; just small zaps left and right that explode debris to cloak movements.

Harry ducked behind a tree and listened to the wizards and witches trampling after him, arguing with each other, shouting out advice on how best to catch him.

Harry did a quick assessment of his body from the head down as Snape had taught him. He wasn't hurt, just panting from the run. His shoes were a little tight. He should really buy new shoes.

He crouched, knees bent and arms loose, ready to run behind another tree, zigzagging deeper into the woods.

"Cut him off!" a male voice shouted far behind him. "Divide these woods – burn them down if you have to."

"No!" Mr. Weasley protested. "You're not going to hurt him. You said we would do this without hurting him."

Harry kept moving with his wand drawn in front of him. His ears noted the sounds from the twigs cracking under his feet to the chaos behind him. If they set fire to the forest, he would need to get out. He could call for his broom, but taking to the skies meant presenting himself as a target.

Ahead, a grove of thick trees were clustered together. Harry put his wand between his teeth and grabbed for the lowest branch. He swung himself up as quickly and as quietly as he could.

Snape had devised a maddening exercise for him one lazy Sunday when Harry didn't want to do anything other than lounge and eat Bertie Botts' Beans. In the middle of the training room, a collection of logs and planks had been charmed into the trunk and limbs of a broad tree. Snape had told him to climb up the device, and the moment Harry got to the second branch, the boards started moving, sinking into the stone floor. More boards had appeared at the top of the constructed tree.

"That's correct," Snape had replied to Harry's look of surprise. "The tree will keep sinking. You have to climb up to keep from touching the ground."

"For how long?" Harry had pulled himself up to a higher branch as the tree sank down slowly.

"Until you reach the top."

That of course had proven impossible as the tree sped up the faster he climbed. He had climbed up three feet only to find it had sunk three. It was an exhausting, brutal exercise. And Harry had never reached the top. Snape had only called a halt when Harry was so winded he almost fell off.

Climbing this tree was easy, and Harry found himself fifteen feet up before he realized he was off the ground.

As he pressed himself against the tree trunk to wait, he realized he had never appreciated Snape's training or bothered to thank the man for his foresight. At the time, Harry had been a little too busy wishing Snape at the bottom of the lake. Once he reunited Snape's soul with his body, he would be sure to thank Snape. After Snape was done hanging him out to dry for impregnating Luna, of course.

Below, the adults were Apparating in and out of view as they kept shouting to each other to look harder.

Harry frowned as he rubbed traces of bark off his wand. Snape had never let him Apparate even though Harry had begged for it. Snape had been firm about Harry having to be of age which wouldn't come until next summer of course so no Apparating until then.

"But you want me to run, and it's the best way to run away!" he had exploded at Snape towards the end of their discussion (argument).

"It takes more magic and concentration to Apparate over longer distances," Snape had replied. "You'll get somewhere and be disoriented and weak. And how do you know that you're not Apparating somewhere more dangerous than before. We've already seen that you can't be trusted to Floo through the fireplaces responsibly."

"That was only one time!" Harry had wailed, but Snape had been adamant. No Apparating.

"Would have helped now," Harry grumbled to himself. "Nowhere can be more dangerous than right here."

Maybe he would halfway thank Snape once he was whole again.

A snap occurred on the tree branch in front of him as a wizard Apparated in front of him. The wizard's eyes widened and he opened his mouth to shout, but Harry's stupefying curse hit him before he could make a sound. Harry reached out to grab him before he could fall.

The wizard was an older man, one of the Ministry, but Harry had trained for hours maneuvering bulky logs into place, so he didn't drop the man. He pulled him over to the trunk and propped him against it with the man's legs astride the thick limb below. The wizard's wide-open eyes stared at him as Harry climbed to a higher branch.

That was one down and two Dementors nullified, but how many more could he defeat before they all came after him and overpowered him?

He climbed to another tree, swinging onto the branches with sure movements and eyes searching for any unexpected movement.

"I knew this would happen," McGonagall's voice drifted from the tree trunks below, four trees over. "You should have let me go into the inn and talk to him there."

"The Ministry of Magic said that we should contain him at all costs," Mrs. Longbottom replied.

Harry stilled himself to listen.

"I don't care what Rufus Scrimgeour said," McGonagall replied. "He only got involved after Pomfrey went to the doctors at St. Mungo's for help. This should have been kept in the school as our concern."

"It's too dangerous!" Mrs. Longbottom was nearly shrieking. "He defeated the most powerful, evil wizard in centuries! You know what happens when one evil tyrant falls. Another rises up to take his place, usually the one who defeated him in the first place!"

"Harry isn't going to become Voldemort," McGonagall argued. "He's different. He just wants to live a normal life, and with the right help –"

"Open your eyes, Minerva. Look around you. The boy's never going to be normal. I went along with Snape's brain-headed notions to train the boy and exchange the marks, but we were playing with magic that couldn't be contained. I told Snape that once you delve into that sort of magic, there is no coming back from it. He insisted he could control it, could control the Boy Who Lived, could manage that sort of wild magic. Then he died and we're left with an unstable form of magic inside this-this orphan freakshow."

McGonagall said nothing.

"We've defeated evil," Mrs. Longbottom said. "It's over. The final component is this boy. Let them take him to St. Mungo's. He either gets better or he doesn't. Either way, he's contained. We cannot have a loose cannon running around, blowing up Muggles' homes for revenge. We just can't."

"All right," McGonagall sighed. "Set fire to this forest."


	8. Surprises

"Fire," Snape had said once, "is one of the most dangerous weapons a wizard possesses."

"Because it's one of the original four Greek elements?" Harry had guessed.

Snape had looked impressed. "Close, but it's more than that. Fire is heat, heat combusted into a contained force that seeks to devour all objects in its path simply for the pleasure of growing and adding to itself."

"Water is destructive, too," Harry had frowned. "The way rivers crack through the rock eventually. And we can drown in water."

"Yes, but water will eventually seek its own level and calm down. What does fire do?"

Harry had turned on his stool, his face serious as he had pondered Snape's questions. "Fire gets bigger and bigger. Without something to feed, it dies. Fire needs to be controlled – humans and wizards can create it, but they have to maintain it so it doesn't die or grow too big."

"Five points to Gryffindor," Snape had said, almost reluctantly.

Harry had laughed. "We're not in class. And I don't think you can reward me during training sessions."

"Don't argue with me. Five points from Gryffindor."

"Fine, fine, give me the points and I'll try not to set anything else on fire."

Snape had pretended to glower at him, but he did return the points back.

In the cold air of the forest, Harry's head spun as he tried to calculate how long it would take to set the whole forest ablaze. The wizard he had just stunned would be in danger. What about Muggles nearby? Did the forest belong to someone, someone who might object to having their nice forest burned to a crisp?

What would Snape do?

The memory of the early fall swept over Harry – when Mrs. Longbottom disguised as Moretta had asked Harry to sneak out for a secret meeting. Snape had punished him for that, and worst of all Snape had known who Moretta was at the time. Snape had been plotting with Moretta and McGonagall the whole time, but they hadn't included Harry because they thought he was just a child.

Harry bristled with the memory, and the incident afterwards when he had to pretend to be sick to get away from her in the Great Hall. He hadn't meant to scare Snape or the whole school by faking an attack, but he had felt so out of control then, so helpless, so caught between wanting to please Snape and wanting to show the world that he, Harry Potter, was capable of taking care of himself.

Harry's eyes narrowed. Snape had scolded him for faking. Snape had pulled off the greatest trick of all with the switching of the marks and the hidden lab, and Snape had never apologized for punishing him or for tricking him or for any of it. Nothing but scolding and punishment.

Harry tightened his grip on his wand. Snape would get his later, but one thing was absolutely certain. Mrs. Longbottom would get hers now.

Harry eased behind a tree and closed his eyes.

His Cloak. His Cloak. He needed his Cloak.

Mrs. Longbottom set a tree branch on fire and McGonagall reluctantly made the blaze grow bigger and bigger.

Harry concentrated on drawing the Cloak to him as he watched the fire blaze. How did one fight fire?

Harry ran his thumb over the Dark Mark on his arm. Sometimes he thought it burned, but more often it lay dormant on his arm, an ugly tattoo. Forget fire - how did one fight evil?

Another memory rose in his mind, powerful and crystal clear. One evening after a tiring training session, Harry had lay on the cold stone, defeated.

"You gave it your best," Snape had said.

"Wasn't good enough," Harry had muttered as he rolled over and crawled to his feet. "I'm never going to fight evil this way."

Snape had stopped him with a hand on Harry's shoulder. "How do you fight evil?"

Harry had scoffed, "With good of course."

"That's a child's answer. You're almost a man now. How do you fight evil?"

"With power? With magic? With anger? I don't know!"

"You fight evil with anything you can. Fight it with power, with good, with your own evil – as long as you're fighting, you're winning. Winning only stops when you stop fighting."

"Or if you get killed," Harry had said, still a little sullen.

Snape had smacked him on the rear. "Don't joke about things like that."

"Sorry. But sometimes I get all beat down. I'm not getting any better."

"You're doing twice as much as you did a month ago. You don't realize how strong you're getting because I keep increasing the workload. It's always going to be hard."

Harry would have felt a moment's regret at being so sullen with Snape, but at that moment in the forest, the Cloak hit his hand. He flung it around himself and rolled off the branch.

He landed on the ground with flat feet and loose knees, taking the impact the way he had trained in the dungeon for so long. Hidden by the Cloak, he ran forward and grabbed the branch out of Mrs. Longbottom's hand.

Both women gasped, but Harry knocked the Cloak off his head to hang off his shoulders so he was a floating head in the middle of the forest with a burning stick in front of him.

"Potter!" McGonagall scolded.

"Evening, ladies," Harry gave them a half-smile. "I would advise against setting the forest on fire. I stunned a chap up in the branches," he pointed overhead, "and he would much rather not be burned to a crisp. You both seem a little slow on the uptake tonight. I expected better from you," he looked at McGonagall, "but not you, you old hag," this at Mrs. Longbottom.

Mrs. Longbottom whipped out her wand, but McGonagall stepped forward.

"Potter . . . Harry, Harry, please don't make us fight you. If you just give up now, I promise nothing bad will happen. Your friends will go home to their parents and you'll just go to St. Mungo's for a little while. When you're better, we'll let you go back to school. You only have another year there and then you'll be of age and can go anywhere you like."

Harry pretended to listen to her words, but he was watching Mrs. Longbottom edge closer. The important thing was to keep the attention on him. If all the wizards were hunting him in the woods, chances were the others had escaped with Snape.

"But I did magic at a Muggle's home," Harry said, biding his time. "I tried to blow up the home where I lived before. I hated living there!"

"I know, I know," McGonagall soothed. "And the Ministry will forgive you for all of that. No one was hurt, no one was injured."

Harry hid his smile. That meant they hadn't figured out that Snape was back, well, his body at least. As long as Snape stayed hidden, Harry had room to play. He wasn't sure but he guessed that bringing a wizard's body back without a soul was not exactly legal. But once he had Snape's soul back in his body, then it would be fine because Snape could step in and uh, take care of things. (For now, he pretended that taking care of things wouldn't involve him over Snape's knee, but that was all in the future for now.)

"I just don't know what to do," Harry ducked under the Cloak, dropping the burning stick.

He jumped back from a blast of Mrs. Longbottom's wand. The stunning spell hit the tree, but Harry was running through the woods, firing blasts with his own wand to keep her chasing him even though he was invisible. He ran around a large tree and cast a hasty charm on the roots and vines below.

"Potter!" Mrs. Longbottom ran into the space by the tree, the color bright in her aged face. "Potter, you rotten boy, show yourself! I'm going to get you for this. I did all of this for Snape. He once loved Alice and I did this for her and my own poor boy. But enough is enough. My boy and his wife are in St. Mungo's and you're going there, too, you stupid –"

Her voice broke, and Harry felt his throat tighten with grief. He still remembered seeing the Longbottoms in the insanity ward. He hated that they were there, tortured into insanity, but at the same time, he wasn't willing to go there himself.

He hit the vines with an attacking spell and they snagged around Mrs. Longbottom's ankles. She shrieked, but Harry pointed his wand at her.

"_Petrificus Totalus_!" he yelled as she screamed,

"_Mobiliarbus_!"

His spell hit her first and she fell backwards into the vines. Harry tried to remember exactly what her spell would do when a tree slammed into him.

He fell backwards and the tree tumbled on him.

Normally it would have hurt, but nothing other than bruise him with its two hundred pounds, but one of its branches had broken off and the splintered end slashed down onto Harry's arm.

It cut through the Dark Mark, and the tattoo burned as dark smoke began churning over Harry's head.

"No," he groaned as he rose to his feet. "No, I'm not him. No, go away."

Mrs. Longbottom was frozen, but her eyes looked triumphant as Harry staggered away, the black mist trailing after him.

His arm hurt so bad that he flung off the Cloak to survey the damage. Pieces of wood stuck out of the wound which was beginning to leak blood. Setting his teeth, Harry put his wand in his left hand and reached for the biggest splinter.

A cat jumped down from the tree, and Harry froze as he looked at the familiar tabby.

The cat reared back and transformed into McGonagall.

Harry moved to switch the wand back to his dominant, unhurt hand, but McGonagall stopped him with a shake of her head.

"Ah-ah!" she held her wand at him. "One move, Harry, and I stun you."

Harry didn't move, wishing the black mist away. She saw the Dark Mark but didn't look surprised.

"Yes, Poppy told us about that. Oh, Harry, I know you are so angry. What happened to you is so unfair. I didn't agree with Snape about transferring the marks – I promise you that. But he was so certain. He felt sure you would die if you fought Voldemort alone."

Harry smiled sadly. "Snape had that little faith in me?"

"Yes, after Sirius died and you ended up at Snape's home, he came to all of us and proposed a plan to switch the marks. Dumbledore wasn't sure, but he trusted Snape."

"Dumbledore's gone now," Harry watched a drop of blood bead up on his arm and then run down towards his wrist. "Snape's gone. Voldemort took away everything I had."

"Not everything. Ron and Hermione are here. The school is still here. We just want you to get better."

His arm was throbbing now and bleeding heavily. Tears formed in Harry's eyes and one rolled down his face as he looked at the old woman. She looked so tired and sad.

"I'm sorry," Harry lowered his head. "I'm so sorry."

"I know," she came closer. "You must be exhausted. No one blames you though. We just want to help you."

"I never meant to do any of this, I promise," Harry blinked, and more tears ran down his face. "You have to believe me. Please believe me."

"I do," McGonagall put a hand on his shoulder. "We're going to get you fixed up. We'll heal your arm, and then you'll get to rest in a warm, soft bed tonight. Doesn't that sound nice, Harry? Isn't that what you want?"

He nodded and whispered something.

"What is it?" she leaned close to him, one hand brushing over his unruly hair.

"I'm so sorry," Harry whispered. "Please forgive me. _Petrificus Totalus_!"

Her face barely had time to register surprise as the spell from his wand hit her. She went rigid, but he grabbed the front of her coat before she could tumble backwards.

"I'm sorry, I promise," Harry lowered her gently to the ground, ignoring the agony in his arm. "I never wanted to do this. But Snape taught me to cast spells with both hands despite any injury. And he always insisted I never get caught. I've always respected you, professor, but his orders come first."

Harry straightened and pulled several long splinters from his arm. Blood dripped on the ground next to McGonagall's head as she stared up at him with startled eyes.

"A spy took me in, trained me, taught me all he knew. Are you surprised I took after him?"

A drop of blood flicked onto her coat, and Harry reached down to wipe it away. His hand felt something hard against her chest, just under her throat.

He hesitated. If he saw another teenage boy pawing at McGonagall, Harry would have performed Crucio on the kid without a second thought.

"I'm so sorry about this. Feel free to take your cane to me when this is all over," Harry unbuttoned the top two buttons of her coat. "I deserve it and a lot more, I'm sure."

He pulled at the coat to see what he had thought the bump was – a timeturner.

He laughed ruefully.

"This is how it all started," Harry pulled the chain free from her neck and held up the tiny hourglass. "I went to Snape's in the first place to find a timeturner to go back in time to save Sirius."

McGonagall was still frozen, but her eyes looked frantic.

"Don't worry, I gave up on that idea," Harry pocketed the timeturner. "But I am going to use this to get away from you."

He heard noises approaching, and he knelt by McGonagall, angling his bleeding arm away from her. "I'm not crazy, I'm not sick, I'm not mental. It's the power from killing Voldemort. I think some of it got transferred to me. I'm more powerful now, but I'm still good. I'm still Harry Potter. Still the same impulsive, over-active, and to quote Snape, thoroughly disobedient boy I've always been. Look at me, professor."

She couldn't move so he gently tilted her chin towards him.

"I'm always on your side. Please, please . . . be on mine."

Then he stood and grabbed his Cloak and ran. He slipped his wand into the carrying case he had received for his birthday, the case that wouldn't let the wand loose regardless of what happened to him.

Blasts of fire and spells boomed behind him.

He scrambled up a small hill pulling the timeturner free as he wrapped the Cloak around his bleeding arm. How far back should he go? Not too far back or he would mess up even more. Just enough to give him a fighting chance and maybe even a head's start.

He jerked to a stop at the top of the hill. He could see that the ground dropped off into a river about thirty feet below.

Harry turned around. Two wizards were running for him and a dementor was hovering over them.

"Stop him!" one wizard yelled. "The others are gone – he's all we have left."

A stunning spell whizzed over his shoulder, and Harry jumped off the hill. As he fell he turned the hourglass as many times as he could.

The light around him brightened into a full glare.

Then he hit the water.

It was icy and brutal, and had Harry not trained in the snow and cold, he would have frozen and perhaps drowned in the icy depth. But Snape had not trained him to collapse under a little cold water, even in the middle of winter.

Harry's head broke clear of the water and he swam towards the shore with short, strong strokes.

He clawed for the bank and climbed out before falling on the rocky bank.

He still had the timeturner clutched in one hand. His Cloak was wrapped around his hurt arm.

He stared up at the sky, judging it to be about ten in the morning. He had turned time back about eleven hours.

Which meant the other him was with his friends, travelling to the inn.

Harry knew he should get up and start drying and bandaging himself, but he lay there, closing his eyes, willing Snape to come to his mind to talk to him, to tell him what to do.

But he was all alone.

"Snape?" he said out loud. "Snape? Just come talk to me for a second."

Nothing.

"I have a timeturner," Harry threatened. "I will use it, and I won't be responsible."

Again, nothing.

Disappointed, Harry sat up. Would Snape only show up when his body was nearby? Lousy bastard! Never there when you needed him.

"Okay, okay," Harry groaned as he shivered. "First things first."

He unwrapped the Cloak around his arm, wincing at the blood and leftover splinters. He cleaned the wood off his arm and performed a simple cleaning spell on his arm. He cut off a piece of his shirt and bound it up as bet he could.

The irony of his situation made him smile. He had hated taking the healing potions after training, but Snape insisted and they got more disgusting each night. Harry would have sworn that Snape was putting stuff in there just to torture him, but the man had said that was nonsense.

"But they're getting worse," Harry had whined one night when Snape presented him with a glass of black sludge. "No, I'm not taking that!"

"Stop being such a baby," Snape had chided. "And yes, they're getting stronger because your body is undergoing incredible physical strain. They have more vitamins or proteins or healing powders depending on what you've done. Now swallow it."

In the training dungeon, Harry had huffed and groaned while swallowing the stuff, but in the cold air by the river, Harry would have given anything for a potion to heal up his arm and a few other cuts and bruises he had sustained while fleeing.

And here shivering in wet clothes, there was no Snape to prod him to his feet, to tell him what to do, to look after him and take care of him. He was on his own.

Harry shakily got to his feet. He knew a mild drying spell that would help with his clothes, but everything else would have to wait.

Miraculously his glasses were still all right. Out of habit, he had put a hand to them right before he hit the water. He dried them on his Cloak which had magically dried itself while he was sitting. The drying spell helped, but it didn't work fully mainly because his magic was exhausted and because he had no practice with the spell.

With slightly damp clothes, he limped down the river bank, heading back to the inn.

Chances were, Ron, Draco, and Hermione had figured out how to get Luna and Soulless Snape out of the inn safely. Where they went was a mystery, but Harry pushed down the urge to go find them by flipping the timeturner forward. Have faith in them – they knew how to take care of themselves.

He had the whole day to do whatever he needed to do. And as long as he had the timeturner and was responsible with it, he could have more time than that.

Harry reached a dirt road, and paused by an aged sign that read _London 41 m. _He had gone back to the morning. Right now, the other him was with Ron at the Dursley's house. That meant everyone was busy looking for him, but Hermione was leading them on a wild goose-chase. So as long as he kept quiet in a disguise, Harry had the whole day. And as long as he was careful not to run into any of his other selves, he could repeat the day if he needed.

Research was what he needed. He was no Hermione, but he could find research about attaching bodies and souls back together. He would start in Diagon Alley. Well, more specifically, he would start by getting a disguise in Knockturn Alley.

Harry raised his wand. "_Lumos._"

The wand's light was weak in the morning light, and Harry called out, "Knightbus? Can I get a lift?"

He waited for a few minutes, ignoring the throbbing in his hurt arm.

He heard the crunch of tires on dirt and saw the purple, double-story bus appearing.

Harry grinned and flung the Cloak over his head and shoulders.

Not only was he getting a lift, he was getting a free lift.

His long list of crimes was really getting quite shocking.


	9. The Other Hims

The Knight Bus appeared in a blur of dust and screeching tires. The doors opened, and Stan Shunpike peered his face out. He looked bad, Harry realized with a start. Though still retaining his teen acne and boyish stance, Stan's hair was specked with gray hairs, and heavy bags hung under his eyes.

"Ello?" Stan peered out into the dusty road.

Harry stooped, picked up a rock, and flung it into the brush.

Stan leapt in the direction of the noise, and Harry took the opportunity to tiptoe into the open doors of the bus. Ernie was at the wheel, looking annoyed, but Harry eased past him silently.

"So?" Ernie demanded as Stan came back in.

"No one there," Stan's eyes grew worried. "I'm sure I saw someone. Aw, me eyes are playing tricks on me."

"Soldier up, mate," Ernie warned him.

"Aw," Stan's Cockney accent became more pronounced as he twisted his shirt in his hands. "I'm going looney, have been ever since they let me out."

"Eh!" Ernie shook his white head, glasses bouncing around. "Don't you be babbling, boy. They found you innocent once You Know Who was killed. Azkaban's all in the past now."

Harry paused on his way to the back of the bus. He hadn't known that Stan had gone to Azkaban.

"I can still feel the Dementors," Stan whispered.

"Quiet," Ernie slammed the gears and the doors closed. "Any more dithering, and they'll send you to the fifth floor of St. Mungo's . You don't want to go there. The Healers won't let you out."

"I've been to St. Mungo's," Stan shoved back suitcases that had spilled over on the passageway of the bus. There were only about five people on the bus, but Stan couldn't seem to stack their suitcases neatly. "I once tried to hex me skin clean and I spent a weekend letting them heal me face."

"Not on the fifth floor," Ernie shook his head. "Once you go there, they don't let you out. Where to next?"

"London," Harry said in a low voice.

Stan looked back at one older gentleman wizard sleeping in a large seat. "We won't be to London for another three hours. We have to go by Stratford-Upon-Avon first and then that silly village where everyone wears those huge hats. I hate stacking those hatboxes!"

Harry moved towards the back. He swiped a packet of chocolate biscuits off the sleeping man's tea tray and stuffed them into his pocket. The bus started and began bouncing up and down as Ernie guided it on the road in a haphazard manner while Stan swayed with the motions and kept muttering about losing his mind. Harry made a mental note to look into helping Stan later and then Harry stumbled into the tea trolley. He made off with a plate of scones and butter, a hot pot of tea, and an empty cup.

On the second floor, he hid in an empty corner and ate the food as quickly as he could. He hadn't had time to eat supper before putting Snape to bed and he had been extremely hungry then. In the past, he would have just gone without food, relying on adrenaline and nerves to keep him going.

But that had stopped one Saturday morning in September when Snape had found him preparing for a Quidditch match near the pitch, strapping on gear in the equipment tent.

"Did you have breakfast?" Snape had asked as Harry pulled on his gloves.

"No, I woke up late. I'll eat after."

"You didn't have much at dinner last night."

"We left the table early to shoot fireworks off the High Tower," Harry had reached for his broom.

A strong hand had whirled him around, and Snape had gripped his chin, forcing Harry's eyes up. "Do I have your attention now, young man?"

"Y-Yes," Harry had stammered, worried Ron or another teammate might wander in and see him getting scolded.

Snape had lifted an eyebrow.

"Yes, sir," Harry had nodded against Snape's hand.

"You don't go without eating for that long again, especially not when you're about to start a three-hour practice. Your body craves nutrition, and when you don't eat for so long, you come back inside and then you only want sweets. You complain about being short, about wanting to grow taller, but you refuse to mind your health so that can happen. Therefore I will mind it for you."

Harry's cheeks had colored slightly; he hadn't realized Snape was paying that close attention. But he had stayed quiet, not wanting to provoke the man further.

"You are not living off sugar and tea, I don't care how much you like them. It makes you irritable and gives you headaches. You will have proper meals, especially with all the training you're doing with Quidditch and with me. Am I understood?"

"Yes, I'll eat."

"And what will you eat?"

"Not sugar and tea!" When Snape's frown had deepened, Harry added, "Healthy food. Fruits at teatime. And all my greens at dinner. And-and a glass of milk and all the potions you give me at night."

"Good boy," Snape had let go of his jaw. "Go practice, but when you're done, you come to the dungeons to clean up. I'll have lunch waiting for you."

Harry had nodded and stumbled out onto the wide Quidditch pitch, slightly shaken. Snape rarely grew that stern with him anymore, but whenever it happened, it shook Harry to the core. Though he hated to admit it, he had Hermione's morbid fear of getting lectured by authority rather than Ron's careless attitude towards scoldings. (Ron was one child of many, so perhaps that explained it.)

In the cold corner of the bus, Harry winced at the memory as he crammed another sweet bite into his mouth. He should have had dinner, but Soulless Snape had been tired, and it was exhausting trying to remember real Snape's rules while taking care of Soulless Snape and getting chased by the wizarding world!

Harry took a gulp of tea, but it was too hot. He tried to pretend that his eyes were watering from the pain of his burnt tongue more so than from his memories. At least he was eating something. He would get real food later on.

Halfway through the scones, he must have dozed off because the next thing he knew the bus jerked to a stop and Stan shouted. "London!"

Harry's legs ached as he stood up. The teapot crashed to the floor, but Harry wrapped the leftover food in a napkin and stuffed it in his pocket. As he walked painfully towards the stairs, he felt the pocketwatch in his pocket. It was wet from his fall into the river, but he clutched it tight as he exited the bus. He squeezed past the older gentleman who was snipping at Stan about someone having pinched his biscuits.

Harry made another mental note to repay the stolen treats later, but as he headed towards the entrance to Diagon Alley, he supposed that all heroics came at some sort of cost.

That feeling amplified when he ducked into the main road of the wizarding shopping world. He hadn't been there since the day he killed Voldemort, but in the days that had passed since then, the destruction of Diagon Alley had barely been touched. Shops were still blackened by the fire, rumble still littered the edges of the streets, and the smell of burnt ash hung heavy in the air.

Workers roamed the street, repairing shops with magic and manual tools. They didn't seem particularly angry, but Harry felt guilty all the same. Most of the places he had battled Voldemort were not places he had returned to, mostly because he spent the few days after the battles in the hospital, and there was no reason to return to those places (the graveyard where Voldemort rose, the Ministry where Sirius died).

He wished he could have battled Voldemort somewhere else, but then again Harry hadn't really asked to fight in the market place.

Other wizards were mulling about the place. One teenager stood on the corner, holding up newspapers. "Extra, Extra!" the boy shouted. "Read all about it. Harry Potter still on the run. But the wizards are closing in on him. The Ministry's offered a reward for his capture – 1000 Galleons!"

Harry scowled, resisting the urge to kick the newsboy. A few people crowded around, buying the papers. Harry stole a paper from the stack and tucked it under his Cloak, retreating against a wall to skim the front page. The picture was of him, asleep on the ground, presumably after the last battle when Dumbledore had rendered him asleep after killing Voldemort. It was the last time he had seen Dumbledore; Dumbledore had died soon after from stress and old age.

Two tears did roll down Harry's cheeks then, but he read over the article, shoving those emotions to the back of his mind. The article was basically about how he had been caught trying to steal mind-altering potions at school and then escaped out the window trying to commit suicide but was rescued by a flying bird.

Harry rolled his eyes at the mistakes, letting scorn override sorrow. The article got most of the facts wrong but it didn't say anything about Harry blowing up the house on Privet Drive. That was missing.

Oh, stupid. Harry shook his head at his own blunder. He had gone back in time. Soulless Snape would have just come back, and they would be evading the wizards led by McGonagall right now. As long as he didn't draw attention to himself, Harry had the rest of the day to do research.

But the Cloak was annoying. He would need a disguise.

Tossing the paper away, Harry went into the dark shadows of Knockturn Alley. He stopped in front of the shop where he and Snape had battled Voldemort, where Harry had killed him.

White ribbons were tied across the broken window with the words _Do Not Enter, Ministry of Magic Order _written over and over again. Harry could see the ashes on the floor inside, and the smell of burnt flesh still lingered.

"Snape," he whispered. "Are you here?"

Again, no answer. Nothing but the cold wind rustling the ribbons.

Harry headed towards Borgin and Burkes, the only store that seemed open. As he approached the doorway, he saw a young man in his early twenties kneeling to tie his shoe. On the spur of the moment, Harry reached out and grabbed several loose hairs on the back of his coat. The young man straightened, not having felt anything, and headed back towards the main market area.

Harry held onto the hairs, but as he entered the store, he pulled his Clock off to confront the owner. For a minute the store seemed empty, but then a young man came out from the back, the same young man that had been tying his shoe.

Harry stopped, glancing back outside where the young man had disappeared. His heart leapt to his throat ; he was about to be caught.

But the young man just smiled at him and went out the door without a word.

Panicking, Harry rang the bell.

Mr. Borgin came out, looking grouchier than ever. The last time he was here, Harry had been in disguise, looking for timeturners, and the owners had been bored and dismissive.

Now, seeing Harry without a disguise, Mr. Borgin's eyes grew huge.

"It's – it's – it's," the man choked. His eyes shot over to the main counter; a copy of the Daily Prophet with Harry's picture on it lay in the middle of a pile of junk.

"Yes, it's Harry Potter," Harry smiled without mirth. "I'm here for supplies. Do you have any Polyjuice Potion?"

It was a bet that Borgin and Burkes would carry them as they were potions, not antiques, but Mr. Borgin was known to keep shady objects for a quick sale, and Harry couldn't think of anything more shady than what he was needing now – the ability to look like someone else for a while. It wasn't Unforgivable Curse bad, but it wasn't on the up-and-up either.

"No, no," Mr. Borgin said, blinking fast.

Harry whipped out his wand. "Listen, old man, I'm not in a mood to be trifled with. I destroyed Voldemort, and I've escaped half the Ministry hunting me down. I will hex you into oblivion and then ransack this place. So I'm going to ask again nicely – do you have any Polyjuice Potion?"

"Y-yes."

"Where is it?"

"Back room. Highest shelf to the right," Mr. Borgin was starting to sweat, eyeing the tip of Harry's wand.

"How much of it do you have?"

"S-several pints of it. It's preserved, not fresh, so it would only last about fifty minutes instead of an hour."

"Good. What time do you open?"

"Excuse me?"

"What time do you open this shop?

"Eleven. It used to be ten, but slow business now after the – well, you know."

"And what time is it now?"

The man's hand edged towards his coat pocket. "Quarter-past eleven."

"Thanks," Harry said.

He reached for his timeturner just as Mr. Borgin pulled out his own wand. Harry heard the start of a curse, but he turned the hourglass back once.

Mr. Borgin disappeared, and Harry was alone in the shop, the only difference now being that the open/closed sign was flipped and the newspaper was missing.

Harry went to the backroom and spelled his wand, "Lumos!" to light up the dark space. The Polyjuice Potion was on a high shelf in small jars marked P.P, but Harry recognized its sickly color. He took down the jars and searched around for a bag. He found a pretty gray one, but it tried to bite him so he settled on a worn satchel instead.

He glanced over the shelves of various goods, wondering if he should take anything more. On impulse he grabbed a writing quill and ink, parchment, and some exploding powder. He shoved it all in the bag and roamed around, careful not to touch anything. Everything in the shop was creepy, but he ignored his crawling skin as he surveyed the shop.

The clock on the wall read 10:50 when Harry opened one bottle of Polyjuice Potion and dropped one of the hairs in. The hair fizzed in the cup, disintegrating in the potion. He waited a few seconds and then gulped two mouthfuls of the potion down.

Yuck! It wasn't much worse than the potions Snape forced on him, but at least when Snape was standing over him, Harry could distract himself by glaring at Snape, the master of his discontent.

The young man he was turning into wasn't much different than Harry, slightly taller and with shorter hair. Harry's clothes felt slightly too tight, but nothing too noticeable. Tucking the jar back in his bag, Harry headed towards the door. He saw Mr. Borgin on the other side, scowling as he opened the door.

Harry ducked back into the side room, flattening against the wall. His hand went to the timeturner, but the man didn't come into the side room. Instead, the man sat at the counter and Harry heard the rustle of the newspaper.

Mr. Borgin read in silence, punctuating the cold air with curses and growls of "Dirty, stinking brat. If I got my hands on him -!"

Time crawled by, but Harry's hand stayed still on the timeturner. He wasn't in danger yet.

The man finally got up from the table and went into the back, clanging around with the teapot.

The front door opened, and Harry ducked out into the main room, clutching the satchel.

He saw himself standing in the doorway. The other him looked confused, and Harry's one thought was that Snape had been right about his slouching – why did his stance look so lazy and slumped? The other him held the Cloak in one hand, but from his posture, you would have thought he had the weight of the world on his shoulders.

Harry hid his thoughts with a smile and walked past the other him, shutting the door. This was a bizarre day already and it had just gotten weirder.

He went to the Leaky Cauldron and ordered some food, a good healthy meal with greens that Snape would have approved of (though Harry remembered that Snape himself had never seemed too fond of greens). He sat in another dark corner, slouching, in case the young man he was disguised as came in; that young man wouldn't be able to see him clearly.

As Harry tore into the food, he took the quill out and began writing down a few notes on the parchment. It was going to be important to keep his timelines straight, especially if he had to turn back the timeturner again.

_First H – spends day avoiding Ministry, fleeing in woods at night, ends_

_Second H- starts at around 8am, takes Knight Bus to D.A., confront Borgin at 11:15, ends_

_Third H, starts at 10:15, disguises self as stranger at 10:50._

It was almost 11:30, so Harry took out the potion jar, ready to gulp down another mouthful before he started to change into himself.

Below the timelines, he wrote

_Research soul and body restorers at Flourish and Blotts_

_Try to get in touch with friends_

_Go back and search Knockturn for anything useful_

Harry was about to eat the last few bites of food and then take the potion when several official looking wizards with Ministry badges barged into the tavern, followed by a panicky Mr. Borgin.

"All right," one wizard said. "We're here looking for Harry Potter. Has he been in here?"

A few of the patrons looked around nervously, shaking their heads.

Harry reached down and edged his satchel under his chair. He could put on the Cloak if he needed to, but at the moment, making no sudden movements seemed important. And disappearing seemed like one of those movements.

Thankfully he did not move, for at the next moment Mrs. Longbottom Apparated into the room followed by Rufus Scrimgeour, the Minister of Magic.

"Well," Mrs. Longbottom demanded. "Is he here?"

The wizards shook their head, but Borgin protested, "He was in my shop! He was. He had a timeturner and he disappeared."

"Where did he get the timeturner?" Scrimgeour asked. "Where, Borgin? Did he steal it from you?"

"No, I don't have any! I gave them up on the last raid," the store owner wailed.

Scrimgeour shot a look at Mrs. Longbottom. "Do you think he got Minerva's?"

"She would never give it up. And doesn't hers have a tracer on it?"

"Yes, but it only works after it's been stolen. If he keeps going back into the past, it won't activate and we won't know to look for it."

Mrs. Longbottom went out with the Minister, the wizard officials, and a sputtering Borgin. Harry gulped down some of the potion before taking a long sip of butterbeer.

It was good information to know. He took the parchment out again, but the sheet was blank. He stared at it for a few minutes and suddenly his writing came back into focus. Either the parchment or the quill was charmed so people couldn't see what he wrote.

At the bottom of the timelines, he scribbled,

_Do not go beyond 9pm today with timeturner._

That was his cut off. Any work that had to be done would last until then, and then he would have to go back in the past. It was crucial that he kept the timeline exact. He wasn't sure, but it seemed like a bad idea to go running around Diagon Alley, bumping into versions of himself.

He did slip the Cloak on without paying as he had no money and crept out of the tavern. Hopefully the young man he looked like was far away from the marketplace by now.

The next two hours he spent in the bookstore, researching current books and spells that had anything to do with binding, merging, or reinstating objects. He found all kinds of information about moving things from one place to another, but little about how to solidify one thing into another and there was nothing about forcing souls back into people's bodies. Harry had a growing suspicion that that kind of magic was a tad too close to the Dark Arts for people's taste, but he searched on doggedly.

After two hours, he took a break out of exhaustion. In a back bench of the bookstore, hidden from most of the store, he laid down to sleep just for a few minutes. This sneaking around was killing him. He did not envy Snape all those years of being a spy. Being the loud, obtrusive hero was much easier because it demanded attention rather than evaded it.

Harry slept for an hour and then woke up, grabbing another gulp of Polyjuice Potion which twanged because he had waited too long. How had Barty Crouch Jr. ever kept up the ruse as Mad Eye during the whole school year? It was brutal after a few hours on the stuff.

Harry went out, half-drunk with weariness. He was imagining his nice warm bed at Snapdragon Manor, just after a hot shower, falling to sleep with the rain pattering on the eaves . . . when he almost ran into an old, gnarled wizard with iron gray hair.

"Oh, excuse me," Harry moved to step by.

"Excuse you?" the man moved close, baring his crooked teeth in a snarl. "I'll excuse you. Do you have the money yet?"

"I'm sorry?"

"Look, you said 500 Galleons and not a Knut less. I'm not doing anything until I get the money."

Harry paused with that information. "Did I promise you a lot of money to do a spell?"

"Yes, what's wrong with you? Oh, that's right, you said you'd ask a dumb question," the man rolled his eyes. "I'm to tell you now that I'm Farrell Gringwad, a former Death Eater, and I agreed to do the spell," Gringwad lowered his voice, "for 500 Galleons. We met an hour ago at Rosa Lee Teabag for a cuppa. Well, I was there. You barged in on me."

"Yes, that sounds like something I would do," Harry said, thinking honesty was the best bet.

The man smiled gruffly. "Well, cheek or not, the cost is still 500 Galleons."

"Absolutely," Harry smiled. "Did I tell you anything else?"

"Only that you found the news about me from the idiot Borgin. That's all I know. And you have my address for the rest of the week."

Gringwad gave a quick nod and then walked off, using a heavy cane that he employed to move people out of the way rather than to lean on.

Harry took out the parchment and once the writing returned, he finished the third line,

_Third H, starts at 10:15, disguises self as stranger at 10:50, eats at L.C, goes to B to research, meets Gringwad, and goes to interrogate Borgin at -_

Harry glanced up at the clock inside a store.

_At 1:57, ends. _

_Fourth H, starts at 9am, must meet Gringwad in Teabag by 12:45 (can get room to sleep to avoid other Harrys until then)_

Harry ran a hand over his gritty face. Would this day never end? Why did he have to do all the work?

He sighed, letting himself lean against a burnt wall. He glanced up at it. It was the same wall he had cornered Umbridge against when she threatened Trelawney. That was only about two weeks ago though it felt like a year. McGonagall had helped him then.

At that moment, she was chasing the first him all over the country. But she couldn't chase forever. Eventually, he would have Snape back whole and healthy again, and then together they could face the Ministry.

He just had to take things one step at a time.

Harry straightened. Time to intimidate and threaten a shady antiques (but often Dark Arts appropriate) owner.

He headed back to Knockturn Alley.


	10. The End of the Longest Day

The next bit, Harry found particularly distasteful. He already knew the information he needed so it seemed silly to use force to get it out of Borgin, but Harry didn't know enough about timeturners and their effects on time to make choices about messing up the timelines. (A voice in the back of his head nagged that he should have done more research on them during the summer months when he was chasing down time-altering devices, but he ignored that voice as usual.) Hermione might know about them, but alone without her, Harry had to muddle through the mess himself.

And his logic said to keep the timelines as real as possible.

Which led to Borgin temporarily stunned and then tied upside down. The man had started yelling in fear when Harry entered the store. Harry had waited for the Polyjuice Potion to wear off, and when he entered the store as himself, the owner freaked out which gave Harry just enough time to stun him.

The idea of threatening someone slightly turned Harry's stomach, but he stiffened his resolve as he approached Borgin, wand drawn.

Fear was a greater motivator than pain. Snape had drilled that into his head, usually through threats made to one unlucky Harry Potter. Fear of reprimand, of punishment, of lost privileges, of embarrassment had been enough most of the time.

"All right," Harry lowered his voice several notches, wishing he sounded as scary as Snape, "I'm going to ask some questions and you are going to answer me."

Borgin's eyes were large and frightened, but he stayed silent.

"If you answer all the questions correctly, I'll walk out of here and you'll never see me again. If you don't," Harry leaned forward, "I'm going to carve one of these," he tilted his left arm towards the man, showing the Dark Mark, "on your arm with your largest knife. Ready?"

"You belong in Azkaban," Borgin growled.

Harry smiled. "Not an answer, but I'll let this one go. I'm looking for a man who specializes in connecting spells. A man who can force a soul into its separated body. Give me the name."

"That's Dark Magic," Borgin squeaked. "It's forbidden."

"I didn't ask if it was illegal," Harry reached for a large machete.

"No, no," Borgin wiggled against the ropes. "I'll tell. Farrell Gringwad! He's a shifty bloke but he can do it . . . for a price. If fact, he'll do about anything for a price. But I wouldn't use him. Even after payments are complete, he tends to blackmail his –"

"Gringwad," Harry pretended to write the name down. "And where would I find him?"

"He comes to Diagon Alley every few months. I don't have an address."

Harry waited, wondering how much prompting he could give the man before the show fell apart and he screwed up the timeline.

"He sometimes takes a cuppa at that tea rag," Borgin gritted his teeth. "But I swear if you steal my money to pay that –"

"I have my own money," Harry stepped back.

He pointed his wand at Borgin and released him, tumbling the man to the ground. Borgin groaned, staring up at Harry with hatred.

"They're going to get you," he seethed. "They're going to lock you up and throw away the key."

"You have a nice day," Harry reached for his timeturner. "And I would promise you that I won't come back, but who knows what the future holds? I apologize for any torture I inflict after this."

Borgin let out a howl of frustration, but Harry was already turning the gadget back, all the way back to 9 o'clock in the morning.

The shop was dark and closed up, but Harry unlocked the front door, went out, and used magic to relock the door behind him. Exhaustion pulled him down, but he put on his Cloak and wandered through the cool streets into the main part of Diagon Alley. Only a few people were out, most repairing the burnt buildings, but Harry paused in front of the bank.

Gringotts must have had an anti-fire spell protecting it because its stone front wasn't even singed. The bank was open, and Harry could see the grim-looking goblins behind their desks.

This part would prove tricky, Harry frowned. Technically, he was underage so a guardian had to accompany him. Back in the fall, Harry had asked to visit his vault to take out a little money. Snape had demanded to know why, which Harry had evaded by shrugging and answering, "Oh, you know, for the holidays and gifts." That had pacified Snape, and they went in together to the vault. But Snape had had the key to the vault, the large brass key which he presented to the goblin in the lobby and which he had used to open the vault.

Harry had neither the key nor the guardian, but he decided to gamble. With the Cloak hiding him, he followed a portly man through the door.

The moment Harry stepped onto the marble floor, alarms began screaming out.

"Intruder! Intruder!" a demonic voice roared over the clanging alarms.

Goblins charged at the portly man who fumbled for his umbrella and tried to hit the snarling goblins. "I'm not hiding anything," the man yelled as he swung wildly. "And if you tear my robe, I'm going to sue this bank for every last Sickle that you have stuffed into-"

Harry ran back into the street and headed towards the inn. Sneaking into the bank was out. He would have to get the money another way.

A sip of the Polyjuice Potion, a painful transformation, and Harry went into the inn to rent a room. They let him have one without paying, implying that the bill would be settled at the end of his stay (good luck finding him), and Harry was in a room by 9:35.

He collapsed on the bed after setting the magical alarm by the bed for 3 hours. He didn't even remember falling on the bed to sleep, but the alarm woke him. Apparently, he didn't move fast enough because the bed flipped up right, dumping him to the floor.

Harry barely gave a groan as he hit the floor. He staggered into the bathroom to splash water on his face. His reflection almost scared him. He was back to himself, but bags hung heavy under his eyes, his hair was filthy, and his face shown with dull oil. But oddly enough his lower jaw was sprinkled with sparse hair. He had started growing facial hair.

"Right," Harry turned woodenly from the mirror, "like I have time to shave."

After more Polyjuice Potion, emptying the vial completely, he snuck out of the hotel with his satchel and went towards the tearoom. As he passed the bookstore, he thought he saw the earlier version of himself searching through the shelves. Harry pulled his collar up and hurried past, ignoring that version of himself.

Grindwad was seated in the tearoom, reading a copy of the Daily Prophet which of course featured the one and only Harry Potter. But disguised as the young stranger, Harry waged his bets that he could keep up the ruse. He took the seat across the man.

Gringwad looked up. "I'm not interested in company today. Move or I'll move you myself."

"I need a job done and I hear you're the man to do it," Harry eased the satchel down on his lap. "I need a soul put back in a body."

Gringwad lowered the paper, his face cold. "That's worth ten years in Azkaban. I don't know who you think you are, but I don't play with those spells. Perhaps you cursed your love and accidentally separated her body from her soul. Turn yourself in, take your punishment, and let the Ministry take over to heal her."

"I need you to do it, and I'll pay you well," Harry said, surprised at the calmness of his own voice.

"Ha," Gringwad sneered. "A measly thing like you who can't afford to dress himself and wanders around accosting –"

"I'll pay you 500."

"500 Sickles is a good amount for a child like you, but –"

"500 Galleons," Harry stared straight at the gruff man.

Gringwad's eyes widened the smallest bit. Then he barked out a laugh. "500 Galleons? That's more than a family has in three months. 500? What store do you plan to pinch to get that sort of loot? If it's Gringott's, may I watch them catch you and tear you apart while you try?"

"The money is my affair," Harry said. He pulled himself up straight. What would Snape do in this situation? What would he do to seal the deal?

Harry stuck his hand out. "Do we have an agreement?"

Gringwad smirked but he grabbed his hand in a crushing grip. "We do. You bring me 500 Galleons, and I'll put a soul anywhere you like. Here is my card," Gringwad flipped a glistening card at Harry. "Speak my name and I'll Apparate to where you are. But I warn you, if you call me without the money, I will rip you into so many pieces that no one will be able to find you."

Harry ignored his thudding heart. "I wouldn't expect anything less."

He stood and turned. Then he looked back. "Oh, later you will see me. I will pretend I don't know you or what you want."

Gringwad raised a skeptical eyebrow. "What? As a test?"

"Yes, a test. I'll ask a dumb question. Tell me who you are and what I'm paying you. Also you'll tell me where to meet you. Well, you'll tell me that I met you here and at this time."

Gringwad rolled his eyes. "Fine, fine. Anything else."

Harry grinned. "Tell me I found you through Mr. Borgin."

Harry took out the timeturner and flipped it forward two hours. The occupants of the shop disappeared, replaced with new customers.

Harry ducked out before anyone could comment on his sudden appearance and he made his way out of Diagon Alley and onto the normal streets of London. With the help of his wand, he lifted the wallet of the first Muggle he saw, a man in a business suit. Harry took the Muggle money out of the wallet, about forty pounds, and dumped the wallet in the nearest waste can. (And yes, he was sure it was against the Wizarding law to pickpocket Muggles with magic, but, eh, another crime to add to the list.) He went to King's Cross Station via the tube and bought a train ticket to the stop nearest to the inn where the Ministry would later attack.

The Knight Bus was a more convenient ride, but Harry didn't want to push his luck riding it twice in one day. He didn't mind Muggle travel, but he preferred wizard, if only to feel like he was patronizing the right people.

By the train schedule, he was set to arrive at the village stop by 7:45. Then he would make his way to the inn to find his friends and Snape as they fled the scene. On the train, Harry was happy to stuff the timeturner in his satchel and be done with it.

He hoped to sleep some on the train, but he found himself wide awake as he planned a way to get his money out of the bank. Twice he tried to reach out to see if he could find the Soul Snape, but again he had no luck.

At the station, Harry got off the train and started the half mile walk to the inn. On the train, he had put another hair in a second bottle of Polyjuice Potion so he could keep up the disguise. The cold January air chewed at his face, but he trudged on. Once at the inn, he watched from a window as he and his friends came down for supper.

In the dim light, they were all eating, Soulless Snape chewing and Luna with her desserts.

Harry chattered in the cold air, weighing his options as he saw himself get up and take Snape up to bed. Should he go inside or hide out here?

Small popping noises cut through the dark night. The wizards were Apparating, the same wizards that he would lead on a chase through the wood.

Harry pulled on his Cloak and slunk back against a tree. This was the tricky part – moving into the future. Going into the past was safe because he knew what would happen, at least as far as the fight in the woods. But the future – the future was still unknown

More pops and Harry began to see the wizards' movement.

But his friends didn't move. They stayed at the table, finishing off the last bit of food.

Harry looked back at the front of the inn. More and more wizards, but still his friends sat there. Hermione's face was the only one Harry could make out. She was listening intently to the conversation at the table, and her face was one of shock and awe.

But still she didn't move.

Tearing off his Cloak, Harry ran into the inn's back door and ducked into the dining area. "Get up!" he ordered.

"Who the hell are you?" Ron demanded, leaping to his feet.

"It's me, Harry Potter."

A second later, all wands except Luna's were pointed at him.

"I'm in disguise," Harry explained. "I have this," he showed them the vials of Polyjuice Potion and the timeturner, "and I've been back in time to get stuff done in Diagon Alley but we have to leave now because they are all here now to get us."

"He has the Cloak, too," Ron noticed.

"So he's either Harry or he's killed Harry and taken his stuff," Draco commented.

"We're moving," Hermione stood ready.

"You," Harry nodded to her, "go get me and make me go outside and face the wizards. I'm going to lead them away from the inn. Then go back and wake Snape up. We'll sneak out and get out of here by the car."

"But the, er, You in the woods?" Draco blinked.

"I survive because I'm here," Harry said. "We'll all get into the car and go somewhere."

They all moved at once. Draco herded Luna out while Hermione ran for the stairs. Ron threw down money for the food, and then he dashed out of the back door.

Harry leaned against the wall to wait. A few minutes later, the first him (original him? him that had stayed at the inn?) ran down the steps in the clothes that Harry would be stuck in for the longest day of his life.

Hermione ran back into the dining room, eyes huge. "You told me to take care of Snape, but Harry, there's dozens of people outside – dozens! And McGonagall and Ron's dad –"

"Dad's here?" Ron said from the doorway. "Oh, blimey, I'm going to Akzaban at this rate."

"Ron!" Harry cut through his worry.

"Right, I got the car outside."

"You two get in it," Harry directed, pulling out his Cloak. "I'm going upstairs to wake Snape. We'll meet you out there as soon as I can get him out the door. If you run into anyone at all, stun them."

Ron's face drained of color, but Hermione nodded with resolution.

Slinging on the Cloak, Harry ran upstairs and turned the light on. Snape was fast asleep, but Harry shook his shoulder, and the man came awake instantly.

"We have to leave," Harry said. He grabbed some of Snape's clothes and pulled the man up to a sitting position. "Put your shoes on. You can dress later."

Snape blinked. "I'm so tired."

"I'm sure you are," Harry thrust the shoes at him, and Snape clumsily put them on. "Walk with me. Stay quiet. We're going to hide under this Cloak."

He put the Cloak over them, brushing against Snape's still damp hair. Though for Harry it had been dozens of hours ago, in real time, Soulless Snape had had a shower and gone to bed about ten minutes ago.

"You smell bad," Snape whispered as they went down the stairs.

"I haven't washed in about four days," Harry hissed back. "And quiet!"

Outside, the car was hidden behind a bush, but Harry could hear the loud commotion in the front of the inn. Ron was standing out beside the car with Harry's broom in hand.

"Give me the Cloak," Ron held out his hand as Harry took it off him and Snape. "I'm going to fly behind the car on your broom. Make the car go invisible once you get high enough."

Harry didn't stop to ask why Ron was telling him that as Hermione was in the driver's seat and Draco and Luna were in the back. As Harry put Snape in the back, he said, "Let me fly and you ride."

"No," Ron grabbed the Cloak, "you have to stay with Snape and Luna. That's the important thing. If I get caught, oh, well."

Harry rounded the car to get into the passenger seat.

Mr. Weasley was lying on the ground, frozen with his hand out, his expression one of dismay.

Ron heard Harry's gasp.

"I stunned my father for you," Ron swung onto the broom. He looked older than ever with a fierce expression and the long scar on the side of his face. "Don't ever question how far into hell I'm willing to follow you. Get in the car."

Harry obeyed, shaking as he closed the door. Hermione maneuvered the car into gear (when had she learned to drive?) and they drifted towards the sky. She pushed the invisibility button and the car disappeared along with Harry's body. Below Mr. Weasley faded into darkness, but flashes of spells lit up sections of the woods, almost like min-fireworks.

"I'm not here," Snape said blankly. "Am I a ghost?"

"No, this is just a bad dream," Harry answered as the car caught speed and angled up into the clouds. "Go back to sleep."

"Everyone is going to sleep," Hermione's voice came out of the emptiness. "Once we get above the clouds, I'll turn the sight back on. We'll stay in the sky, above the clouds until morning."

"But Ron?"

"We'll go slow enough that Ron can land on the roof and fly with us."

"Like a magic carpet ride," Harry muttered as he closed his eyes. With the feel of the seat below him, it wasn't as scary with his eyes closed.

"Hmm," Hermione's voice had a small smile in it. "That was the last Muggle movie my parents took me to see. It seems like ages ago, before I understood real magic."

He didn't respond. Hermione's sweet dentist parents seemed like another lifetime ago.

"You can keep talking to me with your eyes closed," she said in a low voice. "Draco and I can hear, but maybe Luna and Snape can sleep. Tell me what happened since you ran out of the inn."

In a low tone, Harry recounted his movements since finding the timeturner. Draco and Hermione both asked quiet questions, but low snores came from the other two.

"And so," Harry finished up his story, "I came back to you lot. But now the timeturner has been reported missing and I can't use it without alerting them."

"You can't use it casually," Hermione corrected. "If at the last minute, we need someone to move in time immediately, you can use it one last time. If the consequence is being marked in time, you still have a few seconds to jump around before they catch you. They'll be following the marker through time with their own timeturners."

"That makes sense," Harry agreed. It figured that she would know the most about timeturners after having owned one for a whole school year.

"Hermione should have the timeturner," Draco said abruptly.

"He's right," she said. "If it's marked, but I have it, I can still find you without drawing too much attention. When we land, give it to me."

Harry opened his mouth to say no, but he paused before saying, "You're saying we should all take some kind of responsibility for the team? That makes sense. If my magic's the strongest right now or my luck or whatever it is, it makes sense that all of you have the objects of protection. If Ron has my broom and Hermione you have the timeturner, Draco, you should get the Cloak when Ron's done with it. Even if they get me, the rest of you will have enough to get on for a moment."

"When we land, we'll sort out the items," she said, but he could hear the pride in her voice edging through.

"Head us to London," Harry relaxed in his seat, willing his body to rest. "We need to be there by six. Gringotts opens at nine, and I'm going in there to take 500 Galleons out of my vault."

"What?" Draco and Hermione hissed.

"Don't worry," Harry took a deep breath, drawing himself further into sleep. "Like always, I have a plan."


	11. A Plan

"You have a plan?" Snape's loud voice cut through Harry's sleep.

He woke up and jumped to his feet. He was in the training room of the dungeons, and Snape was standing in front of him, dressed in black, arms crossed.

"Wait!" Harry looked around frantically. "I was in the car! I was sleeping and –"

"Hush that. You're still in the car, in your head or my head, but we came here because there is more room. And that invisible car gives me the creeps."

Normally Harry would have laughed at the idea of anything scaring Snape, but he just nodded. "All right, this isn't real. I just don't like the idea of jumping around without warning."

"Precisely why I didn't let you Apparate yet," Snape said, far too satisfied with himself.

"I know. Apparating would have helped me today. Instead I had to wander all over Diagon Alley with a timeturner but I got out there –"

The look on Snape's face stopped Harry in the middle of his complaint. Even though this was just Legilimency, Harry edged back a few inches.

"Timeturner! You found and used a timeturner. You promised me last summer you would never touch one again."

"Ah!" Harry shook his head. "I promised I wouldn't try to find Siruis with time-altering objects. I said nothing about ever using a timeturner. And you have no voice until you have a real body with a real soul. So don't waste your time lecturing me."

"Every time I meet with you like this, you keep revealing all the trouble you're getting into."

"There has been a lot of trouble," Harry admitted. "The whole Ministry is after me, I stunned McGonagall and Mrs. Longbottom in the woods, and I had to threaten Borgin in Knockturn Alley to give me the name of some criminal wizard named Gringwad. I promised Gringwad 500 Galleons to put your soul back in your body and I'm having to get it from the goblins which – Snape, are you okay?"

Snape had clutched a hand to his chest. "If this was my real body," Snape growled, "I would be having a stroke right now. How do you think you can ever rectify your actions?"

"Oh, I don't know, former Death Eater. I'm sure I'll think of something. You don't like my choices? Don't die next time. Where have you been anyway? I've tried to reach you all day, but you weren't there."

"This is the first time I've heard you call me since the inn room."

Harry wasn't sure if the man was lying or not. "Okay, let's put my crimes on hold for a second. Let's talk about what you were trying to tell me in the inn room before Hermione interrupted us."

Snape looked askance. "So you're dictating the conversation now?"

"Yes, people with bodies and souls get to dictate the conversation. I showed you the Dark Mark and you went mental."

"I did not go mental. You children and your expression are always –"

"Snape!"

The man sighed. "Show me the Mark."

Harry held out his arm, angling the skull and snake towards Snape.

"It looks the same," Snape frowned. "I was hoping it would fade. Oh, Harry, you're in so much trouble."

Fear spiked up Harry's spine, but he kept his voice and expression calm. "Trouble could range from physical danger to evil to getting into hot water with you. So before I start panicking, you need to explain to me what the trouble is. Are you thinking I will turn into Voldemort?"

"A little. All that raw power meeting in one place. You scattered me and then you killed Voldemort. All that magic, all that energy and power and strength, and you emerged barely scraped. You're getting too strong."

Harry's eyes pricked with pain at Snape's honest admission, but he cleared his throat. "I am strong, Snape, but I've always been strong. I've always been too powerful, too lucky, too resourceful. I don't know if it was the Prophecy or my mother's love, but I've always been different and a freak."

"Harry."

The reprimand in Snape's voice helped, but Harry kept talking, ignoring the throbbing in this throat.

"Were you trying to warn me not to give into that power? Were you trying to warn me to be careful?"

Snape's gaze was sad, almost pitying as he looked at his adopted son.

Rage flared inside Harry. "Gah! I hate you so much! You don't trust me, you think I'm turning evil, you think I can't control myself. I hate you so –"

"It's not you! You have never had any control over yourself, but there have been adults in your life who took care of you. When you got in over your head, someone else stepped in to help. That's what it means to have a parent, to have someone care about you. The problem is that alone, you seem wild and uncontrollable. What about Dumbledore? What does he think about all this?"

"He's dead," Harry said woodenly. "He died after the battle."

"Oh, Harry," Snape buried his face in his hands. "Harry, Harry."

The anguish in Snape's voice made Harry wince. "I should have broken it to you more gently. I know you cared about Dumbledore and I'm sorry. I'm sorry, Snape, I'm sorry for everything. Please don't be angry. Please – I'm sorry, Dad. I just so –" Harry's voice broke as his eyes filled with tears.

"All right," Snape straightened, "time for grief later. The danger now is that you are getting more and more out of control. At some point, your luck will run out and they will catch you. When that happens, they are going to find the Dark Mark on your arm. If you manage to bring me back whole before that happens, I can do my best to sort all of it out. But if not, you need to know what you're going to do to surrender."

"You want me to surrender? Just give up?"

"If it's inevitable, surrender peacefully. Put your wand down, hold your arms up, preferably without showing them the Dark Mark, and go quietly. If you face them with magic blazing, chances are they will subdue you through killing you. They won't mean to, but under the threat of another Voldemort, a mob of scared wizards will perform the Death Curse out of terror."

"I understand," Harry nodded.

"And," Snape leaned forward, eyes dark and threatening, "if I find you in the afterlife because you were killed needlessly, you're going to wish you had never been born when I'm done with you. Am. I. Understood?"

Harry felt the blood drain out of his face, but he nodded. "Yes, sir, perfectly understood."

Snape straightened. "Do I want to know about this plan?"

"No, sir. I'm waking up now."

With a start, Harry jerked awake to find himself in the enchanted car. It was still dark outside, but they were parked in an empty space near Hyde Park. Everything and everyone was visible now, but Draco was in the driver's seat and Hermione was in the back, asleep with Luna and Soulless Snape.

"Time?" Harry stretched his sore shoulders.

"About five."

"Ron?"

"Went to find an open café."

An hour later, they were in a tiny café, drinking tea and coffee while Draco stood near the doorway, keeping watch but pretending to watch birds in the park.

"The plan. Explain it." Hermione held her hand out for the timeturner.

Harry gave it to her and then put his satchel on the table. "I have Polyjuice Potion in here. We're going to use it to get into the bank. This is what I'm planning – tell me where the flaws are. I can't sneak in there with the Cloak and I can't get to my vault by pretending to be someone else. I have to go to my vault as myself."

Luna was listening but she poured a cup of tea for Snape, encouraging him to drink it. Snape looked tired, but he sipped at the tea and then leaned against the wall, closing his eyes.

"If I go to the vault, I need to have the key," Harry said. "I'm guessing it's at Snapdragon Manor. That's why I got us here early. We need to use the Floo network. I'm underage so I need a guardian to accompany me."

"That's where this comes in?" Ron picked up a vial. "You want one of us to be Snape?"

"No, he's been proclaimed dead. Guardianship went to McGonagall and Mrs. Longbottom, they told me. In the next three hours, we need to get bits of both women and the key from the manor. When the doors open at the bank, I'm going in with the two of you in disguise. We go to my vault, we get the money, we use this card," he removed Gringwad's card and put it on the table, "to contact Grindwad, and then we give him the money. He'll perform the spell, and then once Snape is here, we deal with the fallout. That's my plan. Where are the holes? What are the problems?"

Silence and worried glances passed around the table.

"Harry should go get the key," Hermione said. "He knows the Manor better than any of us."

"Breaking into McGonagall's home and Mrs. Longbottom's will be the best choices," Ron added. "I bet they're still out searching for you, and Neville would want to help us."

"We should use the Floo network," Luna smiled. "That was a good idea. But one not too popular so they can't catch us."

"Who should be McGonagall?" Hermione asked. "Me?"

"No, I want Ron as McGonagall and Draco as Mrs. Longbottom."

"Aw," both boys complained simultaneously.

"I know,' Harry nodded, "but Hermione is the best lookout because she'll have the timeturner. We can disguise Luna and Snape and have them wait in a shop somewhere. Maybe separate shops even."

"No," Hermione said, "we keep Luna and Snape together."

"I can watch Snape," Luna said. "I'm not helpless."

"I'll go get the key; Ron, you go to Mrs. Longbottom's, Hermione to McGonagall's, and Draco will keep Luna and Snape who will go shopping for appropriate clothes."

"What Floo are we going to use?" Ron asked.

Harry grinned. "The one I got lost in when visiting your house years ago. Borgin and Burke's. Borgin will be happy to see me again."

HP&HP&HP

"No, no!" Borgin screamed as Harry came in his shop. Hermione and Ron were already there, holding the owner at wand-point. They had taken him by surprise, and then Harry went in.

"I know, I know," Harry tried to be sympathetic. "But just think of this as a suitable punishment for dealing in shady artifacts. If you had made better choices, we wouldn't be here. Well, at least you wouldn't."

Borgin looked hysterical, but Harry went on.

"We're going to tie you up and use your Floo. When we come back in about twenty minutes, we'll untie you and go our way. I didn't think you would be here this early since your shop doesn't open for another two hours, but you had to be here early. And remember, we were the ones that started the fire in Diagon Alley, and I can't help but notice that your shop is unburned and safe. So count yourself –"

"Harry, stop talking," Hermione cut him off. "And remember, Ron, make sure it's Mrs. Longbottom's bit and not Neville's."

"You were the one who messed up with the cat that time."

"That's why I'm telling you," Hermione went to the Floo and got out the powder. "If you think you're being tracked, go through different Floos and lose them again."

"Will do," Ron kissed her and threw the powder down. "Whilsty Village."

"Oh, I didn't even know where they lived," Harry realized. "I'm glad you all are here to –"

Hermione threw down the powder, shouted out McGonagall's house, and disappeared.

"I guess I get to tie you up," Harry turned to Borgin with a sigh. "They always make the hero do all the work."

The swearing Borgin flung at him was so vile that Harry flinched. Had Snape been there, Harry felt sure the man would have covered up his adopted son's ears in horror. But Harry still tied Borgin with the same ropes as yesterday and left him in the backroom (not upside down, but was Borgin even the smallest bit grateful?).

"Snapdragon Manor!" Harry yelled out with his handful of Floo powder.

He stepped out into the dark living room hearth of the manor, and not the fireplace he had broken into the first time he arrived in the summer. The house was dark and cold, but Harry whispered, "Nabby? Nabby, are you here?"

The house elf appeared and a big smile broke across the ugly, squished face. "Master Harry is back!"

"I'm in trouble," Harry knelt down. "I need the key to my bank vault. Do you know where it is?"

The house elf hesitated. "Master Snape said to tell him if Master Harry ever asked for the key. Master Snape –"

"Yes, I know, Snape didn't want me raiding my vault, but he's gone now. I don't have time to explain it, but I'm trying to bring him back. I think I own the house now, and I really don't want to order you around but . . ."

Nabby disappeared, but she appeared a second later with the big key in her hand. "Here is the key."

Harry dropped a kiss on the wide forehead of the house elf. "I love you. Take the day off. Go on a vacation."

The house elf blushed and giggled, but Harry was back in the fireplace, shouting out "Knockturn Alley."

He was the first back in the shop. Harry posted himself at the window, holding up the key so Draco, hiding in a corner with Snape and Luna, could see that his part was done. Draco waved to him, and then he and Luna tugged their hooded robes over their heads and headed for the clothes shop.

Ron came back first, smiling with victory. "Neville is a right hero. Helped me right away and then hid me under his bed when his grandmother stopped by because an alarm went off. Neville lied to her without blinking an eye. Once she left, I tried to apologize, but Neville wouldn't even let me. He even gave me some of her clothes," Ron held up a cloth bag, "and wished me well. I guess killing Bellatrix took away all his awkwardness."

Harry nodded grimly.

They waited for Hermione nearly fifteen minutes. When she finally came through, Harry breathed a sigh of relief, but Hermione was shaking and she had burn marks on her clothes, smelling of smoke.

"McGonagall isn't taking chances," Hermione gasped. "She wasn't there, but the Floo tried to burn me. I got hair from her hair brush, but I ran into her neighbor's house, stunned them, and used their Floo."

"I think we're outlaws now," Ron said as he dropped his hair in his vial of Polyjuice Potion.

"You both are bad influences on me," Hermione did the same to her vial.

"I can't argue with that," Harry laughed. "Go to the clothes shop and see what Draco and Luna bought. I'm going to erase Borgin's memory."

An hour later, at five minutes past nine, Harry stepped out with Draco as McGonagall and Ron as Mrs. Longbottom beside him. Both women walked stiffly into the bank to the front desk. All the goblins froze, but Harry put his key up on the table.

"I need to take money out of my vault," he explained.

The goblin showed him its pointy teeth. "You are being hunted down by the whole wizarding world."

"No, I've been caught," Harry kept his voice neutral. "My guardians have found me and put me under arrest. I need money to hire a lawyer to appeal to the Ministry on my behalf. Please let me into the vault."

It was a gamble, but it worked. The goblin took his key and led him to the waiting cart. Harry's heart pounded in his chest as he sat between the two women who didn't move.

The cart stopped at Harry's vault, and he shoved his key in the lock. The door swung open, revealing his piles of gold.

"Bloody hell," Ron said, forgetting to disguise his voice.

"I need 500 Galleons," Harry told the goblin. "That may be too heavy to put in a cloth bag."

"You can purchase a wooden chest for 20 Sickles that will hold all the gold," the goblin grinned.

"Everything costs," Harry said.

The gold filled up the wooden chest that the goblin produced from the bottom of the cart. It would be heavy, but Harry guessed that he and one of the women could carry it out of the bank. The goblin took the Sickles out of the vault, but there was still a huge amount of gold left. Harry knew the money was earning some interest, but he wasn't sure how much. He didn't even have a good idea of how much money was in there.

It felt extraordinary to stare at so much money, especially after the small amounts of allowance that Snape had doled out weekly. But somehow that money had felt personal, earned through good marks and good behavior and nights of training. This money seemed cold and impersonal, left for him in a bank from parents he couldn't remember.

Then he locked the vault, and the cart started back to the main lobby.

Something was wrong – Harry knew that the moment the cart slowed down. It was too quiet, too looming. The goblins were all at their desks, but no one else was in there.

And Harry could see the movement outside the windows.

They were waiting for him.

His hand slipped into his satchel and removed the vial which still had a little of the young stranger that Harry had assumed before.

"Take this," he said under his breath to the women beside him. "Get out of the bank anyway you can. Draco, take out the Cloak and throw it over me. I'm going to make a run for it with the money."

The minute the cart came to a full stop, Draco flung the Cloak over Harry, and Harry lifted up the box and started running. Alarms screamed out, and the box must have weighed 40 pounds, but Harry tapped into the adrenaline of the moment.

He ran past the goblins who were up on their desks, shrieking with rage, but the doors to the bank were smashed open, and a hoard of wizards ran in, wands drawn and faces savage.

"Catch him, catch him!" a voice bellowed, but Harry kept sprinting. He veered to the left and pulled the wooden chest up to use as a battering ram. He smashed into the window and sprawled out onto the stone steps.

Curses and spells whizzed overhead, but he picked up the box and went on, ignoring the glass digging into his skin.

"Hermione!" he shouted into the cold air. "Where are you? Hermione!"

Something caught at his Cloak, and he ducked out from under it, exposed in the gray morning light. The chest felt like it weighed a hundred pounds.

He was all alone. He didn't see anyone he knew.

A stunning spell bounced off the pavement and hit him in the right leg. It went numb from his knee down, but he limped on, eyes blurring with pain.

"Hermione! Luna!" he screamed out.

Another spell hit his left hand, just below the Dark Mark, and Harry dove into the window of a shop that was still burnt on the outside. He crawled through the glass and hid behind the counter. He took his wand out and fired a stunning spell out into the Alley. He could hear the mob coming for him.

His whole right side was going numb, and what wasn't numb was covered in broken glass. The coldness seeped up his left arm, too, and he couldn't hold the box up anymore.

He fell to the ground, hissing in pain.

"Harry," Hermione ducked out of the fireplace and scrambled for the Floo powder. "Come on. I got Luna and Snape safe. Come on, come on!"

"Hermione," Harry gritted his teeth, "take the box. You're strong, too, you can lift it. Your panic can make you lift anything."

"What? No, we have to save you."

"Here," Harry used his good arm to pull out Gringwad's card. "Take it. Call him."

"I won't leave you!" she looked frantic, wild with despair.

"Bring back Snape," Harry put the card on top of the box. "Then come find me."

She picked up the box, tears spilling down her cheeks. "You can't sacrifice yourself. No!"

"They won't kill me that way. A good hero knows when to trust his team," Harry grabbed the Floo powder box and flung to it into the fireplace.

"12 Grimmauld Place!" Hermione yelled, nearly a sob catching her voice.

She disappeared.

Harry put his wand in his mouth and crawled towards the window. The glass dug into his palms, but he went on, groaning.

He pulled himself up just above the ledge of the window and saw the crowd outside, nearly a hundred furious male and female wizards, wands all out.

Harry spit out his wand out of the empty window. It landed on a pile of burnt wood and clattered down to the street.

With an agonized groan, Harry raised his right arm. He couldn't move the left, and his right leg was so numb his knee nearly buckled backwards.

"I-I surrender," he swallowed. "I'm coming quietly. You caught me. I –"

The spells hit him so hard he reeled backwards. But he was unconscious long before he hit the floor.

HP&HP&HP

The fuzziness began to clear like a fog drifting away.

Harry moaned and tried to move.

He wasn't in pain, but he was hugging himself for some reason.

"_Finite Incantatem, finite incantatem_," a voice said sternly.

The fog hurried away faster, and Harry opened his eyes fully.

He was in a bed. He wore white pajama bottoms, but his ankles were locked with cuffs to the end of the bed.

He was in a straightjacket with his arms lashed over his chest. A strong strap secured his chest to the bed.

He tried to speak, but he realized that a tight muzzle was over his mouth, holding his jaw closed.

As the edge of the bed, Mrs. Longbottom, McGonagall, and Rufus Scrimgeour stood beside various healers.

Harry made a noise against the muzzle, but the adults continued to stare at him with stern, cold expressions.

"At last," Mrs. Longbottom finally spoke, "we got you. Dark Mark, wand, and all. On behalf of the wizarding world, may I say how glad we are to finally have you where you belong. Welcome to St. Mungo's."


	12. Caretaking

It was frightening to be bound so securely, to be this helpless.

In the past months, under Snape training, Harry had come to recognize the advantages of physical strength on nearly the same footing as magical and mental strength. The ability to launch a magical defense, the skill to make the right decision at the right time, and the toned body to carry out any intention were all things Snape had drilled into him over and over again.

But without being able to move, Harry felt panic rising up in him. He wanted to break in a rage, to throw a tantrum, to shred the restraints to pieces. The muzzle even had a shelf that his teeth rested on, and the captivity and his helplessness began an endless cycle of panic inside him.

He could do it, too. Even without his wand, he had enough magic in him to fight back. He might be tied down, but he knew he could fight back. He wouldn't attack them, and the only place they would be safe from him was Azkaban after a Dementor gave him the Kiss.

The calming pictures on the walls started to quiver.

"Put him back under!" a healer, a tall man with a gray beard, rushed towards the bed. "He's unstable. He'll blow the ward out if he can."

Wands came out as several healers rushed at him, and the air grew into a damp, purple haze over the bed. Sleepiness plunged over Harry, but he squirmed to stay awake, trying not to breathe.

"There, there, love," an older female healer soothed him. Harry recognized her as the healer who had looked after Frank and Alice Longbottom. She made hushing sounds as she smoothed down his hair.

Harry's body went limp as he fell asleep again. He tried to call out to Snape right before his world blackened, but he slept and woke without seeing the man.

The second time awakening in the hospital room was less jarring. He was still in the straitjacket with his legs secured and his mouth muzzled, but he was sitting up against pillows in the bed. The elderly healer was beside him, but to the other side Madame Pomfrey stood guard. Her nurse's dress seemed more severe than usual, and her face remained in a disapproving frown.

At the end of the bed, McGonagall, Mrs. Longbottom, and Scrimgeour sat in three chairs, facing Harry.

Harry tried to sit up straighter in protest.

"None of that," Pomfrey gently pressed him back against the pillows. "You are to rest. It's not good to put you back to sleep so often, so stay good and calm. In a moment, I'm going to remove the muzzle."

"And I'm going to give you a long drink of water," the elderly healer smiled, holding up a glass full of clear liquid.

Water sounded delightful, and Harry nodded in compliance.

"Take it off," Scrimgeour ordered. "But if he makes a sudden movement, stun him. Your school reports," Scrimgeour held up one of the piles of parchment on his knees, "say that you are very good at wandless magic. I'm not above cursing you with a silencing spell that will last a week. Are we understood?"

His words were so close to Snape's that Harry bristled. But instead of struggling, Harry let his body go limp.

Pomfrey detached the muzzle. Harry's jaw popped several times as he moved it. How long had he been there? He cast a quick glance to the window. The light was dim so it was probably late afternoon, hopefully of the same day.

"I'm Miriam," the elderly healer put the glass to Harry's lip. "Old Miriam who looks after patients in the long term ward. Sip slowly, love. Don't choke."

Harry drank slowly, weighing his options. They were about to question him; the important adults wouldn't have stayed so long unless they planned to extract information from him.

Was there Veritaserum in the water?

Harry slowed his drinking, keeping his lips to the glass but pausing between every swallow. The potion was illegal to use on students, but they were rather past all the student business now.

When the glass was empty, Miriam took it away and dabbed his mouth with a napkin.

"Very good," Scrimgeour leaned forward a few inches. "Now, we have a few questions to ask. You will answer truthfully and promptly. I am here on behalf of your guardians," he indicated the women, "who have taken your welfare before the Ministry. I am here firsthand to see whether you belong in Azkaban for your defiance of Wizarding laws or here at the hospital for treatment and rehabilitation. Do you understand my reasoning?"

"Yes, sir," Harry said quietly. His heart was thudding with fear, but he forced himself to breathe and stay still. There was still a chance for hope now that Hermione had the money to pay Gringwad. She also had the timeturner and maybe Ron and Draco found their way to her. His friends often amazed him with their perseverance; he sincerely hoped this was one of those times.

"First of all," Scrimgeour nodded to Mrs. Longbottom who flicked her wand at a boxy contraption on the nearby table, a recording device probably, "I want a full account of your actions from New Year's Eve. How did you get from Snapdragon Manor to Diagon Alley and how did you start this final war?"

Harry waited a second, but as he didn't feel an overwhelming urge to start talking, he guessed they hadn't used Veritaserum . . . yet. He started relaying the events, brushing over Draco's tricking him to the Alley and the part about the Mark exchange. When he got to the fight between him, Voldemort, and Snape, everyone in the room grew very quiet and leaned forward. Harry realized they must have heard the story from his friends secondhand because no one yet had asked him about what had happened.

At the end, with his stay under Pomfrey's care in the Infirmary, Harry fell quiet.

"And you still have the Dark Mark?" Scrimgeour asked sternly.

Harry paused, but he was in clean clothes with his scrapes from all the broken glass healed up. The healers had already seen enough of his body to know about the Mark.

"Yes, I do. It doesn't feel like anything. My scar used to hurt, but the Mark is just there. Snape thought it would burn out after Voldemort died."

"Oh, he did?"

"Yes, because my scar burned off his forehead."

Scrimgeour paused and glanced at McGonagall. "You saw him afterwards? I thought you said Snape exploded in the fight."

Ah, so they didn't know about the Soulless Snape yet. Harry felt a ray of hope spring out of fear. If they didn't know about him yet, chances were his friends were still free and undiscovered.

"Er, uh, I saw the scar burn off right before he got scattered. It was horrible. I've had nightmares since."

"There, there," Miriam patted him on the shoulder. "Don't excite yourself."

"Let's talk about your activities since you left Hogwarts," Scrimgeour pulled out another stack of parchments. Even from upside down, they looked like official reports, to Harry. "Do you remember all your movements since then?"

"Well, it comes and goes," Harry hedged. He tried to push his shoulders forward to ease the pressure of the straitjacket. Pomfrey laid a hand on his arm and shook her head. Harry relaxed, figuring he could ignore the discomfort for a while longer.

"You broke out of the school, you gathered up your friends, and you've been all over the country, breaking Muggle and Wizarding laws. You've evaded us, stunned these ladies, stolen from us, broken into shops, even destroyed your family's home. What possible reason could you have for those actions?"

Harry said nothing.

Scrimgeour jerked forward. "Listen to me, Mr. Potter. We have not used truth serum on you yet but any more stalling and I will pour Veritaserum down your throat myself. Give us a reason for these crimes. Give me a reason not to send you to Azkaban."

Harry swallowed. As much as he disliked the place, he knew he had to stay at the hospital for the time being. He would not survive Azkaban with its icy Dementors and lonely cells.

"I-I went mad. It was too much. The fight, Snape's death, Voldemort's power – I went mad, simply mad. I was hallucinating. My friends are loyal, so they followed me. I didn't mean to cause so much trouble. I'm sorry I stunned you. I'm sorry I stole the timeturner, professor."

McGonagall's face softened the smallest bit, and Harry felt awful. He wished he could come clean to her, to ask her advice, to make sure she was on his side.

"That's what we thought," Scrimgeour cleared his throat. "I knew Snape was a spy for us, and I approved the adoption, but clearly he overestimated your ability to keep a clear head in times of conflict. He wrote a letter to us," Scrimgeour held up a folded paper, "lobbying for the rights to your well-being. He believed in your potential but he also noted that you could be, and I quote, 'an impulsive, often stubborn young man without full appreciation for the consequences of his actions'."

"Snape – eloquent as always," Harry managed a small smile.

"You are young. Rashness and youth usually accompany each other. But you have frightened the Wizarding world, especially so soon after the battle tearing apart Diagon Alley. People love a hero, but they fear unchecked power."

"Yes, sir," Harry looked down, hoping his contriteness would keep him from having to say anymore.

"Where are your friends?" Scrimgeour's voice stayed hard. "We've caught sight of them with you. Where did you tell them to meet you?"

Yes, then the others were safe! Harry tried to mask his relief and stammered, "I-I don't know. Er, we had no plans after the bank . . . robbery. They probably went into hiding once I was captured. They were scared the whole time, but I'm too persuasive and they're too loyal so we all went a bit wild. I'm sure they'll go home after a few days."

"Hmm," Scrimgeour frowned and fiddled with his papers. "I suppose. I have here a –"

"But Potter," McGonagall finally spoke, "Potter, you can't – _Harry_, why the bank? 500 Galleons? Why on earth would you need that kind of money?"

"I was going to . . . live the high life in London," Harry reached for a feeble excuse. "I thought with enough money I could escape everything, I could bribe people to help me, I could buy things, lots of things."

"You, Harry?" McGonagall raised a skeptical eyebrow. "You've never wanted those things."

"I'm mad with greed!" he burst out.

It worked. All the adults stiffened, and Pomfrey firmly pushed him back against the pillows and held her hand on his shoulder in warning.

"That makes this much easier," Scrimgeour pulled out a quill. "Mrs. Longbottom and Professor McGonagall are your guardians now. By their agreement and after having witnessed your insanity myself, I'm signing over your care to St. Mungo's Hospital, Ward 49, for long-term patients. While here, you will be treated and rehabilitated as your healers see fit. Your release will depend on their counsel. Should you remain here for a year or indefinitely is at their discretion."

Harry felt dread fill his stomach, but he stayed quiet. There was still hope that someone would come rescue him.

"I have signed off on it," Scrimgeour scrawled over one parchment and reached for another. "This agreement you will sign. It ensures your cooperation in your treatment and your willingness to agree to your healers' advice. You will show them complete obedience. Resistance of any kind or an escape attempt, and you will be transferred to Azkaban for a sentence no less than ten years."

That scared Harry. He felt his eyes prickle, but he just blinked, not trusting himself to speak.

"I understand madness, often exacerbated by grief and illusions of grandeur, but my responsibilities lie in taking care of the Wizarding world, not a single boy."

"I understand," Harry agreed.

"Loosen his arm," Scrimgeour motioned to Pomfrey.

She untied the right arm of the jacket, and Harry reached out to take the pen. The parchment was filled with words, but he barely skimmed them before signing his name at the bottom.

"Good," Scrimgeour stood and gathered up the papers. "I'm sure I don't have to tell you that communication outside this ward is also prohibited. Your owl has been remanded to Hogwarts, and if we find that you try to smuggle notes to the outside, you will be one very sorry boy."

Snape had often ended his warnings in the same way, but when Snape had made them, Harry's usual response had been to make a disgruntled face and trudge along with whatever his adoptive father had dictated. But with Scrimgeour, Harry felt nothing but white, hot anger.

After everything he had done to defeat Voldemort, this was how they repaid him. Condemning him to imprisonment, treating him as incompetent, all these threats of prison.

The glass of the windows began to rattle. The four women tensed, but Scrimgeour made a sound of disgust.

"Take care of him now. Potions, calming spells, restraints, boiling baths – I don't care! Just take care of him and keep him out of my sight. From now on, Harry Potter doesn't exist to the Wizarding world."

Scrimgeour shoved his papers into one arm and snatched up the recording box. He stalked out, barking an order to the guard outside to look alive.

Mrs. Longbottom raised a shaky hand to her brow. "Well, good, this all . . . is done. I don't – I thought –" she broke off as she stood. "You heard the Minister. No nonsense."

As Mrs. Longbottom left, Harry looked at McGonagall. "Professor?"

It killed him when she looked his way, and he saw her eyes glisten with tears.

"You had so much promise," she whispered. One tear streaked down her cheek.

Harry felt his own eyes fill with tears. "I'm sorry. I'll do my best now. I promise."

She got up, shaking her head in distress, and left.

"Are you leaving, too?" Harry looked at Pomfrey.

"Not yet. I'm to help with your treatment," the nurse reached down to loosen the straitjacket. "And if you behave, you can be free during the day of these awful restraints. I've always said you had a delicate constitution, Mr. Potter, and now it appears an even more fragile mind. All this stress and anxiety you've suffered."

As she fussed, she tucked him into bed, removing a pillow so he was forced to lie back. Both his arms were untied and put by his side, and Miriam poured him another glass of water.

"We'll have you feeling better in no time," Pomfrey cast a spell on the bed, and the bed under Harry's back began to heat up to ease away soreness.

It felt good, but he was annoyed at being babied so. Hardship and trials he could endure, but fussing over him just made him cross. He despised being babied!

The healers started diagnosing him soon after. They came in with their wands and potions and devices. He had to swallow nasty brews and turn in the bed one way and then the other, and they moved him whenever they liked, shifting his limbs and scribbling down their findings in charts. Harry did his best to seem compliant; whenever he flinched away from a hard poke or a ticklish touch, Pomfrey would frown and put a hand on his shoulder.

Finally, they left him, but dinner came in, and Pomfrey and Miriam insisted he eat everything. Afterwards, he was tucked into bed with two straps securing him down, and the women left, reminding him that there was a guard outside the door.

Harry lay awake in bed, listening for any sign of his friends. But there must have been some kind of sleeping drug in the food because Harry fell asleep after half an hour.

The next day was agony as Harry waited, and waited, and waited. Every time a door opened, he looked around, hoping to see Hermione or Ron, even Luna or Draco. But he only saw the healers. After breakfast, they took him to a large tub and let him soak for an hour. He lay still in the hot water, staring at the ceiling, and did his best to calm down.

Where were his friends?

Had they been caught? Had they been hurt? What if Gringwad had done something horrible to them when they contacted him?

"Oh, dear," Miriam fretted as she came in with a pile of towels," you're shaking. I'll ring up lunch early and then you can take a nice nap before talking with our counselor."

Harry complied. He thought the counselor would be a former Death Eater with torturous implements for interrogation, but it turned out to be a meek wizard who asked soft questions about Harry's past and his feelings. Most annoyingly, Pomfrey and Miriam stayed in the room so he felt twice as nervous.

"How did you feel about the adoption?" the counselor said, so gently that Harry felt twice as nervous.

"Er, it was fine. I agreed to it," Harry blurted. "Snape was a difficult man sometimes, but he taught me a lot."

"What did he teach you?"

The awful questions kept coming, and Harry had to watch his every word to make sure he wasn't giving any details about trying to bring Snape back.

That night, after a warm supper and getting rubbed down with a potion, much to his embarrassment, and being put to bed so early he could still hear children out playing on the street, Harry began to despair. All day he had watched for any sign of disturbance from the healers, anything to suggest that the outside world had altered, but they were calm and quiet. Surely, they would reveal something if his friends had done . . . something.

By the morning of the third day, Harry felt ready to smash his fist through the wall. If Snape had believed in harsh physical training to harden his son, the healers seemed to think soft care could soothe any woe. The gentleness – soft beds and soft food – drove him mad, this time for real. After Snape's stern expectations, he hated the fussing and the tenderness. When he had stepped out of line, Snape had threatened to make him run more laps or take a switch to him. Here at St. Mungo's, they just hushed any questions he had and made him take a nap or drink a healing tea.

Maybe Azkaban wasn't such a bad choice. At least there he might have a moment alone to manage a few push-ups to release aggression. Here they barely let him walk.

Right before supper, Pomfrey went out for tea, and Miriam sat down in her chair, knitting. (Her needles were enchanted to transfigure into noodles in case a patient made a grab for them.)

Harry sat on the edge of the bed. "May I look out the window?"

"Don't push against the glass," Miriam unrolled a few more feet of yarn.

Harry went out to look over the street. The sun had set, and the lights of Diagon Alley had not fully lit up yet.

How long would he be there? How long could Snape live without a soul? And Luna? Would she raise the baby alone?

For a second, Harry felt so wild with grief and helplessness that he thought about breaking through the window and taking his chances falling to the street below.

He was all alone now. Terrible, terribly alone. Snape was gone. His friends were gone.

All hope was dying in him.

He looked at Miriam. He wanted to collapse on the bed and cry and have her soothe him, to pat him gently while he wailed his misery.

So very lonely.

"You're very pale," Miriam clucked. "I think we need to get some food into you and get you to bed for an early night. I'll have Pomfrey give you a dose of Drought of Peace tonight."

Harry nodded listlessly. He was trying to ignore the hysteria rising inside him that this would be his life forever – food, naps, potions, and early bedtimes. Monotonous, dull living. His body useless as his muscles atrophied, his mind numb, his magic nonexistent.

"Ah, here is dinner early," Miriam noticed. "And faithful Cordy, our new young healer, with a good supper for you. I thought you had the day off, but here you are with good food."

Harry didn't watch as the healer put the tray down. He thought he might be sick. He clenched the window sill to hide his shaking hands.

"A good dinner for our patient," Cordy said in a low voice. "Let's get you to bed so you can tuck in."

Two female hands took him by the elbows, and Harry was surprised at how hard she gripped him. It wasn't like he had put up any resistance, and Cordy had delivered his food before.

He sat on the bed and picked up the fork to eat the food, but Cordy didn't leave.

"Oh dear, you seem quiet," she straightened the sheets and blanket. "If I didn't know better, I'd say someone had just separated your body from your soul."

Harry froze and looked up at her.

She was a plain woman in her late twenties with mousy brown hair. But she stared straight at him. Then she tilted her gaze down.

Harry saw the timeturner hanging around her neck.

She tucked the necklace under her collar, keeping her voice light as she said, "I see your days are going well here, Mr. Potter. Elsewhere, there might be complications."

Harry glanced nervously at Miriam, but the woman was humming as she knitted.

Harry mouthed the word "_Hermione?_"

Her lips tilted into a smile for a second. "Well, I better be going. When you are through eating, just place the knife and fork at twelve and three. That's the important way to show you're done."

"Silly girl," Miriam chortled. "Everyone knows it's both at four o'clock. That's proper etiquette."

"My apologies," Cordy straightened, her gaze still on Harry. "I was sure it was twelve and three."

She touched her hand to the hidden timeturner and then she left.

Silently, Harry put the knife straight up and the fork at a right angle. The fork was shorter – so that meant three o'clock.

"Oh," Cordy leaned back in, "it is quite dark out there. Be sure to keep him away from the window. We don't want anyone seeing him and throwing things at him."

"Go on!" Miriam scolded. "No need to talk like that right in front of him."

Harry cut into his food to hide his apprehension. He had to be ready at three o'clock in the morning. They were coming for him, probably through the window.

But complications? That meant Snape wasn't fully back.

Harry stabbed his meat in frustration. Why? Why couldn't they put him back? Gringwad had the money. Had the man tricked them?

"Dear me, you look so fierce," Miriam put her knitting away. "I'll call Pomfrey in to give you your potions early."

Harry was hungry, but the moment she stepped out, he scooped the food off his plate, ran to the loo, and dropped the food in the toilet. He flushed it down, washed his hands, and was back on the bed before both women came back.

"He's a bit peeky tonight," Miriam said. "But he did eat."

"Good," Pomfrey was pulling out various bottles from the small corner cupboard. "A few doses for the night will help."

Harry tucked his sweaty hands under his hips to hide his nervousness. "Please," he made his voice tired and weary, "can I have them once I'm in bed with the lights down? I can barely keep my eyes open after I take them."

"Of course," Pomfrey looked pleased at his demeanor.

Once he was in bed with the lights partly down, Harry accepted the potions. Each one he pretended to cough after, secretly spitting it into his hand and then wiping his hand on the sheet underneath him while waiting for the next dose.

"They're awful," he complained, purposely making his voice higher than usual so he sounded like a weak, little boy. "Why must you give me so many?"

"These will help you feel better. You do surprise me. I expected you to fight me every day, but you've been good every second."

"Will you let me sleep on my side tonight? I always sleep on my side, but I can't with the straps. It makes me so uncomfortable."

"Well," Pomfrey gave him an indulgent look, "I suppose tonight we can let the straps go, if you promise not to be naughty. There's still a guard outside so no foolishness."

He smiled and snuggled down in the bed, ignoring the stickiness of his hand.

She and Miriam bid him goodnight and he was left with only a small firefly night lamp for comfort.

Alone in the dark, he waited. He had no way of knowing the time, but he planned to watch the moon move across the sky. When it was past halfway, he would get ready.

And then it would be a waiting game to escape.

And he had to give it his best go. Otherwise, he would discover the comforts of Azkaban. And he doubted Dementors were as friendly caretakers as Miriam and Pomfrey.


	13. Raw Power

Sleeping was out of the question. Harry tiptoed to the loo and washed his hands and looked for some real clothes. All he found was more of the white clothes he was wearing, soft and pajama-like.

He explored the room, using the dim light of the nightlight. The window was the most important thing. It was standard glass but on the outside there were vertical bars. That didn't worry Harry too much; he was more concerned about being so high up.

Waiting was the worst part. Harry started a round of push-ups, heaving his body up and down on the soft rug. He went to the wall and walked his legs up until he was standing on his hands upside down. Then he did five more push-ups.

A noise sounded out in the hall, and Harry dove for the bed. He got on his side and pretended to be asleep. The door opened and he heard a healer speak to the guard,

"All's well here. I'll be back at ten."

So every hour someone would check on him. It wasn't a perfect time-telling system, but at least he could mark off hours with every bed check.

The darkness dragged on, and Harry had to jerk himself awake several times to keep from dozing off.

Ten o'clock check.

Eleven o'clock.

Midnight.

Harry couldn't stay still. He sat up in bed and practiced small bits of wandless, voiceless magic which mainly consisted of changing the temperature between his hands, heating and cooling the space of air.

One o'clock.

He was hungry. Why hadn't he eaten the meat? They would have trouble drugging the meat.

Two o'clock. After the last check, he couldn't sit still. His whole body throbbed with energy.

A thought occurred to him. He went to the table where paper and soft charcoal sticks lay. Part of the treatment had been drawing, and Harry had just sketched Snitches over and over again.

But he took a blank piece of paper and scrawled _Bed Check at 3. Come at 3:05._He set the paper up in the window.

And then he waited.

Finally, finally, the three o'clock bed check came. The second the door shut, Harry was out of bed, pulling on a pair of slippers.

He peered out into the dark night. Nothing was there.

"Come on, come on," Harry whispered under his breath. "Come on and get me."

Nothing, but then . . . the rumble of a motor.

The car appeared in mid-air with Hermione at the wheel. Gringwad was in the back seat. Gringwad opened the door and hooked a chain around the bars.

While the car pulled off the bars, Harry pulled the table and bed to block the door. It wouldn't hold them out for long, but enough to give him a fighting chance. He wrapped the sheet around his hand and then he broke the window just as the bars came off.

A ringing sound filled the room, but Harry climbed up onto the ledge. Gringwad had the back door open and Harry dove into the car just as the door behind him burst open.

The car veered away from the window, but it didn't go invisible.

"They can see us!" Harry hollered as they swooped over Diagon Alley.

"I know," Hermione shouted back. "You're going to Apparate with Gringwad while I lead the chase away. Then I'm going to abandon the car and use the timeturner to go back a few hours. I'll catch the Knight Bus to get home."

"But they can trace the timeturner!"

"I'm going to abandon it, too, once I go back. They can trace it, but who cares if they can't find it on me."

Harry looked back and his heart leaped into his throat as he saw wizards in the air on brooms, giving chase.

"We'll lead them on for a bit," Hermione said, gripping the wheel with an expertise that she had never shown for driving before. "Harry, make sure they see you but not Gringwad. It's important that they chase the car."

"Where is everyone else?" Harry tipped his head up and down.

Hermione made the car turn invisible for a second and then veered to the right before making the car appear again. "They're at the Manor. We tried to do the rejoining spell, but Gringwad's magic wasn't strong enough to force Snape's soul into his body."

"I can facilitate it," Gringwad frowned, "but the magic that separated them is so strong we need the person that helped separate them in the first place."

"How did you find his soul?"

Hermione paused, then she blurted out, "Harry, Luna's not pregnant. Well, she is, but not with a baby. She's carrying Snape's soul."

"WHAT?"

"She told us at dinner at the inn, before you burst in. She didn't want you to know until the last moment. But she's doing poorly, bleeding and fading. That's why we need to move now."

Barrages of spells were flung at them across the sky, but Hermione handled the car, going invisible and reappearing once the spells died.

"She's carrying Snape's soul," Harry whispered in disbelief.

"All souls need a vessel," Gringwad said. "As to the ramifications of how sex with you made her the vessel, I don't know. Your magic is scaring all of us. And I've seen some magic in my life."

"That's why I could only talk to Snape when she was nearby," Harry realized. "I thought I had to be near his body, but it was her. I had to be near her to be near his soul. But . . . isn't this a good thing? Now his soul isn't just out there, wandering around."

"It's good, but Luna's not strong enough to keep carrying it," Hermione explained. "She started bleeding yesterday so we devised a plan to come get you."

"Can we still save them both?"

"Enough questions," Gringwad leaned over and grabbed Harry in a tight hug. With a pop, they left the car and were jerked to the ground below.

Before Harry had time to object, Gringwad Apparated with him again this time into a field. They kept moving in jerks until Harry felt quite sick and dizzy.

But the last stop was at the door to Snapdragon Manor. The front door was opened, and Draco motioned them in. Gringwad led them deep into the house to the room with the Sleeping Draught plants. He handed Harry a mask and they made their way to the lab. Draco stayed behind, going back to watching the outside of the manor.

Ron was waiting impatiently, but a look of relief broke over his face as they came in. "You made it. She's getting bad."

Luna was lying on the floor on top of several towels. Blood had soaked through her dress, but she had her eyes closed, breathing heavily.

"Luna," Harry rushed to her and knelt by her side, "Luna, you should have told me. I would have never taken you from school."

"I know," she smiled with her eyes shut. "That's why I lied to you. I knew you would get his body back, and a soul needs to be near the body."

She opened her eyes and looked tenderly at Harry. "It doesn't hurt too much. I'm just bleeding from the many times Gringwad tried to remove the soul and force it in to Snape."

She motioned to Soulless Snape who sat in a chair, staring with blank eyes. A thin string of blood-tinted drool seeped from his mouth.

"You fucking bastard!" Harry whirled on Gringwad. "You did this? How many times did you hurt them before you decided to come get me?"

"Listen, boy," Gringwad sneered as he pulled out his wand and rolled up his sleeves, "you should be happy I agreed to do this at all."

But the man's eyes lingered to the box of Galleons in the corner.

Harry turned to Ron. "You let him do this? You let him brutalize them?"

Ron shifted. "We kept thinking that one more time would work. We had no choice, Harry. We are all wanted now. If this doesn't work, we all will stand trial for our crimes. And they won't send us to St. Mungo's like you."

"Harry," Luna put a hand on his ankle, just over the soft slippers he had taken from the hospital, "help him. Get this soul out of me and where it belongs."

"I don't have a wand," Harry confessed. "They took it, I guess."

"Your magic doesn't need a wand," Gringwad said. "You are pure, raw power. If I had the chance to experiment on you myself, I would do it in a second. But since I'm being paid –"

"Ugh, he's been awful," Ron said. "He was all excited about seeing this room and all the research Snape had gathered on you. If you ever disappear, I'll know whose dungeon to search."

"What do we do now?" Harry asked.

"It's almost four," Gringwad pulled out a pocketwatch. "We are going to wait until daybreak. The moment the light hits the horizon, you are going to unleash your magic. It's going to tear through this house, hopefully not killing your girlfriend."

Harry stared at him. "I won't – I can't."

"We're far past won't and can't," Gringwad smirked. "That soul has been . . . inhabiting her body for almost two weeks now, festering in there like a parasite. It's time to get it out, one way or another."

Harry felt sick to his stomach, but Hermione burst into the room, ripping off her face mask as she gasped for breath.

"I'm back, but they're here."

Harry swallowed slowly, wishing he could not ask the question. "Who is here?"

"Well, the Ministry for one," Hermione said. "The wards are keeping them out, sort of, and Draco's locking down doors and windows, but more are coming."

"We can't wait," Harry turned to Gringwad. "Let's just do it now. Snape was always a dark fellow. He can be rebirthed in the dark."

"We're waiting," Gringwad smiled grimly. "I need the power of the light, especially to fight whatever dark magic you sussed off Voldemort. Stuff a towel between her legs and wait."

Harry nearly launched forward to attack the man, but Ron grabbed him around the waist.

"Hey, no, we need him. Right now we need to protect the house. The four of us can keep up the defenses until sunrise."

"That's over three hours from now," Harry shook with fear. "She'll bleed out."

"No, she's strong," Ron grabbed Harry and forced the mask into Harry's hand. "We're going to move the plants to the doorways. If they break in, it will slow them down a little."

"And after that, we're going to sacrifice our freedoms," Hermione reached for a towel.

"What?"

"Each hour, one of us is going to accidentally get captured," Hermione pressed the towel under Luna's skirt. "Ron offered to go first, then Draco, then me. With each capture, the mob will be willing to wait a little longer before storming in."

"I can't let you," Harry felt his throat catch.

"They won't hurt us," Ron smiled. "And you don't need us for the spell."

"We're a team to the very end," Luna smiled at Harry.

He didn't trust himself to answer. He put the mask on and went to move the plants.

Draco was in the front hall, staring out a slit in the curtains to watch the gathering crowd. "That's a lot of people," he pulled back to let Harry see.

A lot of people was an understatement. Harry saw at least two hundred people, and they kept coming, flying in and Apparating. He pulled back from the curtain and went to help Ron carry out the plants while Draco and Hermione began casting spells of protection over the walls.

"All right," Ron straightened from placing the last plant down. "Twenty to five. Whatever you need me to do, you've got twenty minutes. Then I go get captured."

Harry opened his mouth to reply, but a blast hit the front of the house, caving in a window.

Hermione and Draco were on that, shouting repairing spells as fast as they could. They put the window back together, but it didn't look right – crooked and buckled at the edges.

"Do you still have my broom?" Harry asked. "Get on it and throw plants at the crowd. Give them something to aim for and maybe the house can stand a little longer."

"Will do," Ron grinned. "Here's hoping the other side of my face gets carved up, too."

Harry reached forward and grabbed Ron in a rough hug, clapping him on the back twice before releasing him. Hermione leaned over and they kissed. Then Ron disappeared into a side room.

Another hit broke the other window. Hermione and Draco ran to defend it, but Harry just watched the outside. The mob was so large now it was almost faceless. Angry, restless cries broke through the dark night.

Something whizzed past the window, and Harry watched Ron zip around on the broom, flinging pieces of the plants and laughing maniacally to distract the crowd.

He lasted two minutes before they hit his broom with so much magic it splintered into shards and rained down on the crowd. Ron tumbled through the air, but he was caught by the crowd, seized upon eagerly with shouts of victory.

"He shouldn't have done that," Harry murmured as Ron disappeared from view.

"His father is there. He'll keep him safe," Hermione said.

Harry cringed at the thought, but he set aside his worry for the time being. "What's next?"

"We're going to set fire to the garden," Hermione explained. "But you can't help. You need to stay in the house. Once Draco gets captured, you go back to the lab. We're the gambits here, pawns to distract the crowd."

"You are not pawns. You are the greatest friends I could ever have," Harry said quietly.

She leaned over and kissed his cheek.

"I'm not kissing you," Draco said. "I already lost an eye helping you the first time. That's bad enough."

"Be careful."

"Oh, this will be fun," Draco looked almost gleeful. "You know how many times I wanted to destroy Snape's property. This will be revenge for making us paint that wall last summer."

Harry grinned.

As they went outside, he started moving the furniture against the doors and windows. He thought he might be able to move objects magically without a wand, but he wanted to save every bit of his magic for the rejoining spell.

Hermione and Draco set the front of the grounds on blazing fire and they fed it until a curse hit Draco and he fell to the ground, unconscious.

Harry reluctantly went back to the lab.

Luna was moaning on the floor. Soulless Snape sat tense in his chair, with a red mark on his cheek that he rubbed.

"Tried to get away from her crying," Gringwad said. "We only have an hour left."

The whole house shook as a spell hit.

"We'll do it early if they break through," Harry said.

"If it becomes necessary. We can get her up on the table for now."

"You hurt her and I'll kill you after this," Harry warned.

The man just smirked.

Together they lifted Luna and the towels up. Harry tried to ignore the blood as they laid her out on the table, propping up her head.

"When it's time, I will say the spell," Gringwad explained. "You will act as the transfer between them. You have to be touching both of them when I speak. You will draw in all the magic from the house, the people outside, me, her, whoever. Pull it all in. And then shove it into him," he motioned to Soulless Snape, "as hard as you can. Do not stop and do not let go."

Harry nodded. Gringwad moved around the table, putting objects in place, mostly Snape's writing and several potion ingredients. Harry didn't even bother paying attention; he watched Luna and Snape as she made noises of pain and he winced away from her.

"It's almost over," Harry soothed. He put a hand on Luna's forehead, brushing back her blonde hair. Then he squeezed Snape's shoulder. "And we're going to put you back together."

"But will I remember you?" Snape asked. "Will I forget everything?"

"I hope not," Harry managed a small smile. "Just hold on for a little longer."

Another blast rocked the house. Harry heard the front room torn off. Hermione must have been taken.

"Almost there," Gringwad looked at his pocketwatch. "Five more minutes and then I'm going to open the shutters and let in the morning light."

"But if you open them, they'll see us."

"Dear boy," Gringwad wore that annoying smirk again, "when this spells starts, everyone will know about it."

The blasts kept coming, and Harry could barely stand still. "Come on, start it."

"Not yet," Gringwad moved to the shutters. "Wait for it. Thirty more seconds."

Footsteps and spells were crashing down the hallway.

"Now!" Harry shouted.

"Wait."

With a growl, Harry put his hand on Luna's low stomach, ignoring the sticky blood. With his other hand, he grabbed Snape by the throat. Snape tensed under his hand, but Harry screamed, "NOW!"

Gringwad ripped the bar off the shutters and flung them open.

Cold light lingered in, but Gringwad turned back and shouted out a Latin phrase that Harry had never heard before.

Bright brilliant light slammed through the lab, and Harry pulled in all the magic he could.

"Take it in!" Gringwad roared. "Drink it in – take it all!"

Harry floated several inches off the ground, but he kept his hands anchored to Luna and Snape.

"More! Pull it in!"

Luna started screaming and Snape thrashed under his hold, but Harry dug his fingers into their flesh.

His body was alive with power, pure magic flowing through him. His clothes were singeing with fire, the Dark Mark on his arm burned sharply, and he thought his bones would snap with the force of his power. But still he held on.

"Now," Gringwad screamed like a demented banshee. "Put it in him."

Harry felt his hand go through Luna's skin, blood bathing his fingers, and she wailed with pain.

Harry tightened his grip on Snape's throat. And then he forced the power into Snape.

The whole world ignited with light, breaking the window and slamming through the walls so hard plaster rained down.

"Take it!" Harry cried. "Take your soul back. Come back to us, Snape!"

The magic slammed again and then cut off, dying with a rush of air and burning spell.

"Oh," Luna rolled off the table, clutching her stomach. "Oh, you – you stopped my bleeding. It's gone. The pain's gone."

She stood shakily, but Harry turned to Snape.

The man stood there, a vacant, lost expression on his face. His eyes were empty.

Harry closed his eyes in despair. He had failed.

A blast blew off the outer wall of the lab, and the morning light flooded in as the wizards ran up with angry shouts and blazing wands.

Harry turned towards them, holding his arms out. Azkaban it was then. Azkaban would be his home now. Good bye, manor. Good bye, Snape. Good night, all.

He stepped towards the crowd, the last sacrifice. He could not even cry as numbness washed over him.

He lowered his head in acceptance of his fate.

He had tried. He had given it his best.

His best just wasn't good enough.

"Come take me," he offered.

In the front of the crowd, Rufus Scrimgeour raised his wand and blasted it towards Harry.

Harry closed his eyes.

Something grabbed him around the waist and he was jerked away.

He tumbled back on the ground. He was in the woods, at the edge of the lake next to Snapdragon Manor.

Snape was in front of him. The man straightened and wiped the blood from his mouth.

"What in the world is going on?" Snape turned on Harry. "What the blazes were you thinking? You bring me back and the first thing I see is you about to be blasted to bits by the Ministry and a thousand other wizards."

Harry stayed frozen, staring up at the man, afraid it was a dream.

"What have you done to my house?" Snape looked across the lake. "Are my gardens on fire? Why are they blowing up my house? Oh, you've done it now."

He swooped down and pulled Harry to his feet.

Snape's grip felt real. In other dreams, they had never touched; Harry had been scared that his hand would go right through that Snape.

But this Snape was real and whole again.

Harry choked on a sob and covered his eyes. Exhaustion swept over him, and sobs racked his body.

"All right," Snape drew him tight against him, "all right, there will be time for this later. Right now we need to go save the Wizarding Community from itself."


	14. Apologizes, Sort Of

"We can't just go up and face them," Harry wiped his face with the back of his hand. "They'll attack us and –"

"Take your wand out and magnify my voice," Snape said.

When Harry hesitated, Snape turned to him questioningly.

"I don't have my wand," Harry confessed. "I gave it up when I surrendered to them in Diagon Alley. I've been locked up at . . . St. Mungo's for a few days."

"You were injured so badly they sent you there?" Snape's voice was tight.

"No, they thought I went mad. It's been one misunderstanding after another since I escaped Hogwarts. But my magic's still strong. Maybe I can –"

Harry flung out his hand and the water from the lake gushed upwards, attracting the attention of the wizards on the other side of the lake. Snape grabbed Harry close and Apparated to the other side, just in front of the broken door to the house.

The hordes froze, every eye turning to the two of them. The morning light shone strong, but it was so cold that Harry's breath puffed out in white clouds as he gazed out on the wizards.

"Good morning all," Snape said loudly. "I see you found my house. As most of you know, I am Severus Snape who accompanied Harry Potter in the final fight against Voldemort."

Many wizards flinched at the name, but Snape kept going.

"I was scattered during that fight, but this young man fought to put me back together. Now, I am not sure what he has done or why you feel the need to destroy my estate, but I am willing to hear the entire story. But I will have my say first. I was a former Death Eater, but I turned into a Spy for Albus Dumbledore."

The crowd didn't move, barely breathed to hear more.

"This past summer," Snape went on sternly, "Harry Potter broke into my house. It was accidental, but I soon realized that he had the power to defeat our greatest enemy. I took him in, adopted him, and then trained him. The battle came sooner than I expected, but we were still ready. He did what the rest of you were too cowardly to do – stand up with bravery and courage and face evil."

The crowd shifted, and Ron and Hermione made their way to the front. A second later, Draco joined them, repositioning his eyepatch. They looked unharmed, just tired.

"Even though most of you took me for dead," Snape went on, "the magic I had encountered just scattered me, separating my soul from my body. Harry Potter has brought me back. I understand he has broken some considerable laws in doing so. His intentions were noble, if his actions were perhaps reckless. Youth does not always think about consequences."

A murmur ran through the crowd, but Snape went on. "I also understand that you are concerned about the scope of his magic, especially since it seems to have multiplied with Voldemort's death. That is a real concern. But my authority as guardian and father to him will act as a counterweight to that magic. This house protects him, and I will make sure that he is protected from himself as well as the rest of you. The time for secrecy is over."

A shift of unease ran through the crowd, but Snape wasn't finished.

"We are going to spend the next few days sorting all of this out. I want to speak to the Minister of Magic, Professor McGonagall, and Mrs. Longbottom immediately. Those of you handy with repairing spells, please do what you can to fix my house."

The crowd stirred and Scrimgeour stomped up to the broken front stairs to face Snape.

"Oh, you have a lot to answer for, both of you!" the Minister shook his wand at them, mostly Harry. "If you only knew what all he has done! And this is Darks Arts, bringing someone back from death."

"I was not dead," Snape cut him off. "My soul had a vessel. But in case you fear I'm the Dark Lord incarnated, I will submit to any magical test you choose."

Harry was about to object, but Snape whirled him into the house. Grabbing him by the scruff of his neck, hemarched Harry in front of him through the rubble. Harry realized he was still in the white pajamas from the hospital, but Snape didn't tell him to go change.

Instead, Snape put him in a chair just outside the study. McGonagall and Mrs. Longbottom were already there, arguing with half a dozen members of the Ministry, but Scrimgeour had already marched into the study.

Snape leaned down and whispered in Harry's ear, "You are to sit here and not speak to anyone. Move from this chair and I'll spank you in front of every last person here."

Harry's cheeks flamed, but Snape straightened, gave him one last warning look, and went into the study.

The next few hours were a blur for Harry. His friends came and sat with him, but Mr. Weasley dragged Ron off at one point, and Narcissa showed up, hysterical about Draco. Harry remained seated, half-asleep and listless. He had so much to feel, so much to think over, so much to worry about, but for the time being, he could only stare dully at the opposite wall.

He looked down at his pajamas once. Blood specks were all over the right side where he had stood by Luna. But she came to sit with him for a while, and she seemed fine despite wearing a long robe to cover her blood-stained dress.

Inside the study, voices rose and fell. The door opened and shut at various times as wizards went in and out. They gave Harry wide berth though, not even looking at him for the most part.

At one point, Miriam appeared in front of him with a plate of sandwiches and a glass of pumpkin juice. Harry stared at her, but she coerced him to take the plate.

"Professor Snape said you should eat something."

Harry took the food and the moment he tasted the sandwich, he realized how hungry he was and tore into the food. Miriam moved to stand beside him and smoothed back his hair. She stayed until he had finished the food and drink.

Harry leaned back in the chair and closed his eyes for a few seconds, but it was impossible to sleep. People kept milling about, and outside, the house was being repaired. The house elves appeared a few times, squeaking about the mess made of the master's home. A few fights started out in the gardens, and Harry craned around to try to look down the hall or see out a window, but he didn't dare move from the chair.

Early afternoon, the study door opened and Snape leaned out.

"Did you eat?"

Harry nodded.

"Come in here," Snape motioned him in.

The study was packed with every seat taken, but Harry stood in the middle of the room, just as uncomfortable as he had been in the summer when Snape dragged him in after finding Dobby in the manor. He had forgotten about this part of having Snape around: the immediate dread when he felt he had done something wrong.

Scrimgeour looked ready to spit nails as he pulled out a parchment and shoved it in front of Harry. "Did you sign this agreement?"

Harry looked at the sheet where his shaky scrawl ran across the bottom. "Yes, if you can call signing it while tied to a bed agreeing to anything."

"But you did sign it," Scrimgeour slammed it on the desk.

"It doesn't matter," McGonagall argued. "That parchment only stands as long as we," she motioned to Mrs. Longbottom, "were his guardians. Now that Snape has returned, the guardianship returns to him."

"That boy belongs in St. Mungo's," the Minister seethed. "In a week, he has wreaked havoc through our world. We've chased him down and he's broken more rules –"

"And there will be consequences," Snape promised. "I am willing for him to pay fines, apologize, even serve some kind of restoration work, but we all know he's not going back to St. Mungo's."

"How do we know we can trust you, Snape?" said a man whom Harry had never seen before. "You worked for the dark side. You could be plotting against us."

"He's not evil," Harry jumped in front of Snape to face the rude man. "Don't question his loyalties. Question mine first."

"Very well," Snape pulled Harry back by the shoulders. "Let's not start a fight."

"No, let's!" Harry squirmed slightly. "I tried to explain what was happening, but no one believed me. You all are useless. You didn't believe that Voldemort was back for years even though I insisted he was, and then you turned hysterical. I don't answer to this committee and I don't care what you think!"

Several books tumbled off the shelves, and almost all the adults reached for their wands.

Snape sighed and gave Harry a slight shake. "You don't talk to people like that in this house."

"But they –"

"I don't care what they said. I know what you can be like when you get an idea in your head. You are going to pay restitution and you're going to apologize right now. Otherwise you will be under house arrest until you're forty."

Harry looked back, half-embarrassed and half-defiant. "But Snape!"

Snape grabbed him by the back of the neck and turned him to face Scrimgeour. "Apologize."

"Sorry," Harry scowled.

Another shake. "Try again, and this time mean it."

"I'm sorry," Harry muttered, his eyes on the floor.

"For what?"

Yes, Harry had definitely forgotten about this part of having Snape around.

"I'm sorry for all the trouble I've caused."

The adults seemed to relax; several even looked sympathetic.

"But I'm not leaving here," Harry added.

"That's enough," Snape herded him towards the door. "You're going upstairs, take a bath, and go to bed."

"It's the middle of the day!"

"You still have blood on you and you look like death warmed over," Snape got him out the door. "I'll send your friends up to help you."

Harry wanted to argue, wanted to demand that he be allowed to stay and participate in the discussion of his own future. But he was tired. And he didn't know how long he would be able to stay in the same room with Scrimgeour without attacking him. But he needed to make sure Snape was safe.

Harry glared past Snape at all the wizards in the study. "If I wake up and he's not here, I'm going to tear apart every inch of this planet until I find him."

"Just go," Snape pushed him towards the door as Scrimegour shouted out,

"See? He's unstable!"

"You'll think unstable," Harry groused as he headed towards the stairs.

People moved out of his way, and there were a few drawn wands, but no one talked to him. The front of the manor was mostly repaired, but Harry doubted much could be done about the garden.

His room looked mostly the same, except Hermione and Luna were there, along with her father.

Harry stopped still. He had only met Mr. Lovegood a few times, but what could he say to the man whose daughter he had slept with, impregnated with a soul, and then practically tortured to get that soul out?

"Afternoon, sir," Harry gave a sheepish smile. "Welcome to my house and my room."

Mr. Lovegood stood shakily. "I'm trying to decide whether to thank you for killing You Know Who or to attack you for what you did to my girl."

"I'm so sorry," Harry immediately apologized, and he did feel sorry, unlike he felt downstairs a moment ago. "I didn't want – but she insisted – so I let her come because I thought she was carrying my child – but –"

Hermione's hand on his arm stopped Harry's babble, and she stepped between him and Mr. Lovegood.

"I'm really, really sorry, sir," Hermione's usual tact made her words smoother than ever. "We've all been crazy since the final battle. So much grief and loss. You have every right to be angry, but blame me, too, because I let Luna come with us. She was so valuable to our plan and she has the making of a very powerful witch."

Mr. Lovegood seemed torn between anger and understanding. He frowned at Harry. "Well, maybe, but to have her run off like that-! You aren't allowed to see her anymore. And you so much as kiss her and I'll rip your head off."

"Yes, sir," Harry looked at Luna. He tried to think of something kind or eloquent to say, but nothing came so he just gave a half-smile.

"Dad, can we go home?" Luna looked at him. "The blood's all dried on my clothes."

Hermione pushed Harry into the bathroom and shut the door before Mr. Lovegood could explode.

Ron was inside the bathroom, leaning against the corner as he watched the bathtub fill. "Hi, mate," he smiled at Harry. "The house elf started the bath, but I don't know if it will stop on its own or not."

"That's what you have to say to me after all this? 'Will the tub fill or not'?"

Ron laughed shortly and hugged Harry with one arm in the brusque way his brothers hugged. "We survived and brought Snape back. I swear, yesterday I thought it was all over."

"You look all right," Harry looked his friend up and down.

"Dad's reading me the riot act every time we cross paths. He let me come up here, but we're going home this evening so, as he put it, 'Your mother can sort you out'."

"Sorry," Harry winced.

"I'm going to be in so much trouble it doesn't matter what I do," Ron shrugged. "I'll be lucky to leave the house ever again."

The taps turned off suddenly.

"Look at that, they did stop on their own," Rom noted. "Well, take a bath."

"Are you going to stay and watch?"

"Dunno," Ron shrugged again. "I was told to make sure you weren't alone. It's like they think you're going to drown yourself."

"No, but I might fall asleep in there," Harry admitted, toeing off his slippers. "How are you still standing? I spent three days resting in a hospital while you were sweating it out here."

"I've learned to sleep with my eyes open," Ron replied. "We took shifts sleeping, but Gringwad just stayed up." He wandered towards the high window while Harry stripped off his clothes and settled into the tub. Ron peered out, surveying the work.

"It's a mess out there. We really know how to get things destroyed when we want to."

"Mmm," Harry answered as he leaned back in the water. He didn't even want to reach for the soap to get the blood out from under his fingernails.

The wash rag and soap moved.

Harry smiled as he watched the soap suds up the cloth. It was the same spell from his first morning at Snapdragon Manor. What had Snape called it? Something about a washing spell for busy mothers with too many children.

Harry lifted his arms to the edge of the tub and closed his eyes as the cloth began scrubbing at him. Absolute bliss.

Ron kept a running commentary on the action outside, but it was mainly several wizards trying to put back together the wall which separated the garden from the lake. Harry murmured words of agreement every so often as he zoned out under the rhythmic scrubbing.

When he finally left the bathroom, wearing a fresh pair of pajamas, Ron and Hermione were on his bed, eating supper on trays.

"Oh, good," Hermione swallowed her bite of food. "I have a message from Snape. He said to eat some of this food, and then you have ten minutes to get into bed or we can use physical force."

Harry rolled his eyes with a smirk as he sat on the edge of the bed and ate with them. They lapsed into a warm, if exhausted silence. Hermione's eyes kept threatening to close, and she abandoned the food in favor of leaning against Ron and putting her head on his shoulder.

The door opened, and Draco came in. "I've only about two minutes before Mother comes and drags me off," he said in a rush. "But it looks like we're in the clear for now. I'm going to be regulated for a while under house arrest, but eventually they'll let me go back to school."

Hermione went white as a sheet. "I never thought about not being allowed back to Hogwarts."

"We broke a lot of laws," Draco tried to look repentant and failed. "A few in the Ministry want to make examples of us. Thankfully, I already look poor enough with only one eye. They can't decide what is a suitable punishment for us in the long run. I bet anything they'll leave it to the school and our parents. More than half the crowd went home, but the others are staying. They're bringing food in tonight and I let it slip that Malfoy Manor is the closest wizard home to here so some of the lot are coming to stay with us tonight. Mother is furious."

Harry shook his head at Draco's gleeful account; the blond boy did enjoy the drama a little too much. That would be something to keep an eye on later, just in case Draco decided to liven things up and set fire to his home or another action equally ridiculous.

"I can't stay," Ron groused. "Dad will drag me home to Mum."

"My parents were notified of my absence from school," Hermione said. "I'm sure they'll be worried, so I'll need to go back there to assure them I'm all right."

Harry stopped eating and leaned back against the headboard of his bed. He wanted to fall asleep in the company of his friends, to hear their soft conversation as he drifted off to sleep.

He awoke once in the night to find his room empty. He went to the window to look out and saw a dozen makeshift tents on the lawn.

Getting back into bed, he found his pocketwatch on the side table, the one he had received for his birthday. He didn't remember when he had it last or how it got back to him, but he held the clock in his hand and went back to sleep with the ticking gently tapping against his hand.

He awoke to the sound of something hitting the window.

Sitting straight up in bed, he said, "What? What's going on?"

His room was littered with envelopes; a few were shaking with the force of the Howlers inside them. Snape was at the window, battling to close it against a large owl that kept beating to come inside. Outside, scores and scores of owls were waiting, hovering in the air, perched on trees and tents, and even milling on the ground. All had envelopes in their beaks.

"No," Snape fought against the bird as he locked the window, "you are not coming in. No more letters!"

The owl screeched and pecked against the glass insistently.

Harry lay back down and stared at the ceiling. "On a scale of one to ten, how much trouble am I in?"

Snape tossed a handful of envelopes to the floor. "Fifteen!"

Harry smiled. "That sounds about right."


	15. The Paradox of a Settling Spanking

**AN: I have received so many reviews in the last few days. I mean to respond to all of them, but I had to get this chapter out first because it would not leave me alone. Enjoy:**

**HP&HP&HP**

Harry sat back up in the bed. "Fifteen? But I saved you! I brought you back."

"I don't care if you've saved an orphanage from a dragon attack. You still are in a lot of trouble. I'll sort you out later though. Right now, we've got to get all these wizards out of here. Make yourself presentable," Snape strode to the wardrobe and began yanking clothes out and hurling them at Harry, "straighten your hair, shave that scruff off your face, and be downstairs in half an hour."

Harry easily caught the clothes and swung out of bed, stretching.

"You're going to go before the Ministry, politely, and sign another parchment."

"Why?"

"You are going to agree to stay here with me for the time being and appear at a later date for a trial."

"A _trial_?"

Snape finally looked at him. "It was the best offer I could make. They were half an inch from accusing you of using the Dark Arts to bring me back. I had to convince them I wasn't really gone so you weren't accused of attempting necromancy which is punishable by fifteen years in Azkaban. So you are going to smile. You are going to bite your tongue. You are going to sign whatever they want."

Harry smiled so hard with clenched teeth that his cheeks hurt.

"Good," Snape nodded dourly. "And once they are satisfied and start leaving, you are going to take every last Howler out into the woods and open them all at once. Take a pair of earmuffs."

"We don't care who sent them?"

"I don't. You can put the written letters to the side and we can look over them later, but Howlers? No one's sending me a Howler and expecting me to listen to it."

Harry thought that sounded about right, too. "What are you going to do while I destroy mail?"

"I have my own worries as they're afraid I might be possessed," Snape admitted. "I have to submit to a mild magical testing this afternoon."

"No, no, don't let them near you!"

"Calm down, Harry. We just have to get through today. By this evening, they'll all be gone."

He didn't quite trust Snape, but he went along with the plan anyway.

The parchment turned out to be not as scary as he feared. It simply stated that he would be brought before the Ministry at some later date for questioning. There was another clause at the bottom which stated that he would submit to his guardian's authority and house arrest for the present time, and once he served a short probation without incident, his wand would be returned.

The lack of specific dates gave Harry pause, but he signed anyway because Snape was there and Snape wasn't going to let him rot in Azkaban.

The letters proved a nice distraction from the uneasy atmosphere in the house. People kept looking at him, but saying nothing, and Harry was more than glad to have a chore to do in order to avoid them.

Even with the earmuffs, the Howlers screamed out their frustration so loud his bones ached with the vibrations. He devised a plan of laying them all out and then ripping them open, one every five seconds so the individual sounds became one giant howl.

"I AM WRITING TO YOU TO EXPRESS MY EXTREME DISAPPOINTMENT IN YOUR WARD'S ACTIONS –"

"NEVER SINCE THE DAWN OF MAGIC HAS SO GREAT A THREAT –"

"YOU AND THAT BOY SHOULD BE IN AZKABAN –"

Harry had never witnessed such hate mail. He wondered if he had ever gotten any before that he didn't know about. Perhaps the school had barriers against all Howlers, except, of course, from parents.

He took his time though, watching the wizards pack up and leave. More owls arrived, and Harry took their letters, sorting out regular mail from the Howlers. Snape had disappeared for the testing but Harry munched on the food that was spread throughout the dining room in between mail sorts. He didn't see his friends, but most of the wizards left were older and scowled at him as he passed. Lovely company.

He itched to make sure they weren't hurting Snape or carting him off to St. Mungo's, but he caught sight of the man in the hallway later, talking in a low voice to McGonagall, so Harry went about with his chore. He hoped they found nothing wrong with Snape, and surely if there was something wrong, the man would say something.

It took four trips to the woods to get rid of all the Howlers, and Harry's ears ached despite the muffs.

He came back in the early evening to find Snape ripping open the ordinary mail. Harry took off the muffs and reached for a letter opener.

"Ost ple red eft," Snape said.

"What?" Harry asked loudly, putting a hand to his still-ringing ears. "I can barely hear after the Howlers."

"Most people have already left," Snape clarified in a raised voice. "Help me open some mail."

They worked in silence, ripping open letters, scanning them, and then flinging them into the fire. Harry didn't recognize most of the senders, but they seemed to know all about him as they offered Snape advice on how to deal with a rebellious teenager or hinted that Harry should be put under a permanent Imperius Curse.

A large green envelope with an official seal caught Harry's eye. He ripped it open and stared at the official language scrawled all over the thick paper."

"What is it?" Snape looked up.

Harry put the letter behind his back. "Nothing."

"Tell me."

Harry held the letter out. "Borgin is suing me for damages done to his shop and his person. Do we have lawyers or solicitors in the Wizarding world?"

"Sort of," Snape took the letter to scan it. "Usually you pay a minor member of the Ministry to take your behalf before a tribunal or a hearing. The Ministry has final say, but often important members of the community will speak on your behalf."

"Like Dumbledore did when I went before them for underage magic the summer I turned fifteen," Harry remembered.

"That's right," Snape frowned. "You've already been in trouble with them."

Harry kept his hands steady as he reached for the next letter, but he couldn't meet Snape's eyes. The fewer people left in the manor, the more nervous Harry got. Distractions like people and the mail kept him from hysterics, but sooner or later everyone would be gone and the mail would be opened, and Harry would have to talk to Snape.

He wasn't scared of his adoptive father (well, maybe a little), but Harry was terrified of his own responses. He didn't want to be angry, but anger still lingered from the unfairness of the whole Wizarding world. And he did not want to cry like a baby in front of Snape, and if he started crying, he would never be able to say a coherent word. And he couldn't stand the idea of Snape being disappointed in him because that would be the worst of all.

But Snape didn't say anything, and Harry felt ready to be sick.

By eight o'clock, he was so jumpy he startled at every noise, but Snape kept having last-minute conversations with each person as they departed: Mrs. Longbottom, Scrimgeour, Pomfrey, even a few goblins from the bank. Gringwad had not been seen since the rejoining spell, but the money was gone as well, so Harry shrugged him off for now.

Harry chewed his fingernails absentmindedly as the door shut on the last guest. The manor felt empty, hollow, and very ominous.

"Stop that," Snape walked past him. "Let's have some tea in the family room."

Harry went to his chair and quietly waited while the house elves delivered tea. Both elves wanted to keep cleaning up the house, but Snape told them to wait until morning.

Harry's legs bounced in tiny sporadic movements as Snape poured the tea and handed Harry his favorite yellow cup. The cup and saucer clattered as he took a sip.

"Harry, stop," Snape said.

"But . . . fifteen?"

"You are in a lot of trouble, but we can talk about that. Before we start," Snape held up a hand, "you are going to drink that tea and settle down. And no matter what happens, I am glad to be able to be here again, to see to you. Despite what anyone says, you are a remarkable, very special young man."

"No," Harry covered his eyes, "don't say things like that. I don't want to bawl like a baby."

"I've seen you cry before."

"But I don't like doing it! It hurts to get this upset. I can't breathe and boys aren't supposed to cry and I sound like a weak milksop."

"Then calm down. Drink the tea."

Harry sipped it, drawing out the action as long as he could.

"Before we start talking, let me tell you what it was like to be scattered."

Harry stiffened in his chair, afraid, but Snape continued in a smooth tone,

"It was like being in a dim, confusing dream. I wandered through past memories until you called out to me. Then I found myself awake in your head. As soon as we stopped talking, I went back into the dream. There was pain when I felt my soul trying to merge into my body, but that was the only pain."

Harry swallowed in relief, but stayed quiet.

"I've gotten bits and pieces of the actual events that happened while I was gone, but they're all distorted with too many stories. I want you to tell me exactly what happened, but this is where I'm struggling with the best way to proceed. You have taken a lot of risks, but at the same time, I made decisions that forced you to act on your own. I'm not going to pretend that your choices would have been the same if I had been here."

Harry nodded seriously, careful to keep his knees from bouncing with adrenaline.

"As best as I can figure it out, Draco tricked you into going to Diagon Alley on New Year's. That action started the battle which forced my plans into a rushed execution of spells and confrontation. You showed up, and when our spells collided, it scattered me. Do we agree on how this all started?"

"Yes," Harry played with the handle of the empty tea cup.

"Harry," Snape almost sounded amused," you have to stop looking so guilty. I can't have a real conversation with you when you look terrified. I'm displeased with some of your choices, or I'm sure I will be once I have all the facts, but I can't go on if you keep looking like a kicked puppy."

"I know I'm in trouble," Harry rushed out, "but I'm angry, too. Not at you, but at the whole thing. And every time you . . . get on to me, you want me to feel sorry for what I've done, but I'm not sorry now! I would do it again – I would do anything to get you back."

Snape took a sip of tea, but Harry felt his temper grow.

"I made so many bad decisions - dangerous ones, too! I've done things that would turn your hair gray, but I'll do it again in a heartbeat. You can't control me and no one else can either."

The air around Harry grew tense, and Snape glanced around at the room, at the trembling pictures on the wall.

"I'm not going to let you punish me. I won't. I dare you to come close to me," Harry's teeth were clenched. "You died and left me. I will never forgive you for that. Do you know how much that hurt? I slept with Luna out of pain, out of agony. You were a real father to me, and you sacrificed yourself to save me. You felt noble because of that, all redeemed for your actions, but I was left alone in the world. My parents died, Sirius died, now Dumbledore. You were the last person left who cared about what happened to me."

"Harry –"

"No, you gave me hope this past year, and then you took it away. I thought I was going to be happy, but you took it all away. I will never be sorry for what I did."

The windows, only recently repaired, began to crack, spider-webbing across the panes.

"So what are you going to do, Snape?" Harry rose to his feet. "What are you going to do with me?"

"Sit down," Snape said quietly.

"I don't have to."

"No," another sip of tea, "but you are going to and you are going to calm down."

"Or what? You'll smack me?"

"Young man, you may have power from the Dark Lord, but I have just been brought back from the dead with that power after I took your scar. So we don't want to see whose magic is stronger, do we?"

That stopped Harry cold. He hadn't thought about Snape's power being stronger than normal.

"And once I do subdue you, I might be tempted to have my own temper tantrum, and believe me, you do not want to be on the other end of that tantrum."

Harry dropped back into his seat. "It's not fair. It's not fair at all. I'm still angry at you and everyone else."

But his eyes were burning with unshed tears, and he felt raw inside. He couldn't decide whether to grab Snape and hold on for life or throw a punch.

"We're taking another cuppa," Snape filled the cups again.

"I'm not taking any more potions ever again," Harry blurted out.

Snape didn't comment as he dropped two lumps of sugar into Harry's tea and handed it to him.

It wasn't until Snape had finished his tea did he speak again,

"Clearly this will not be solved in an evening or even two. However, since we are both under house arrest, we can take our time. Tomorrow, you are going to write out an account of everything that happened, everything you want me to know about."

Harry narrowed his eyes in suspicion.

"You acted as an adult in the decisions you made. Therefore, you can confess whatever you feel appropriate. If there is something you don't want to share, it's your discretion."

"So I only write down what I want you to know?" Harry felt sure there was a trap somewhere.

"Yes. If I find out about something else you did that you choose not to tell me, there will be no consequences. I will believe that you made those choices because you felt trapped or forced to. However," Snape leaned forward, "if I find you feeling guilty over those undisclosed actions, I will take a strap to you and see that you don't step out of my sight for a month. I trust your honesty, but I have no tolerance for your lingering guilt."

"That sounds fair," Harry muttered.

"Being an adult doesn't absolve you of consequences of your actions, and you made a choice to bring me back. You cannot have it both ways – me as your father but not acting as your father. You wanted a father back and now I'm here."

Harry nodded.

"Tomorrow you'll write the list," Snape put his cup down, "and I'll read it. We'll deal with it then. For now, go upstairs, get ready for bed, and I'll come give you a settling spanking along with a few potions."

"What?!"

"You really didn't think I was going to stop giving you potions?"

"Not that," Harry felt his face heat up. "The-the other thing."

"A settling spanking?"

"There's no such thing. Span – those _things_ don't settle you. No one has ever used those two words together in a sentence since those words were invented."

"And now you're a linguist?" Snape raised an eyebrow.

"Snape!"

"You're going to bend over the bed and I'll smack you a few times with the hairbrush," Snape was serene as if they were discussing creating a potion. "It will settle you down enough to sleep for tonight. I want you well-rested for tomorrow and it's been a long day here."

"I don't want a spanking that doesn't count," Harry crossed his arms. "You don't get to do that when I haven't done anything wrong."

"Then consider it penitence for yelling at the Ministry in my study and yelling at me tonight. But either way, you are getting ten smacks tonight."

Harry swelled with outrage.

"We can make it twelve," Snape shrugged. "Or we can see how many it takes to settle you down. Do you want to argue further about it or do you want to go upstairs now?"

"I want to punch you," Harry scowled. "But I'll go up."

The whole way upstairs he considered flat-out refusing to submit to a punishment. A settling spanking? That was ridiculous. Snape had apparently come back with some kind of god-complex, issuing orders like a dictator.

Harry brushed his teeth and got in pajamas. He looked at the wooden hairbrush on the bureau. He wasn't sure if he had used it more than once, preferring to comb his hair back with his fingers.

Footsteps sounded in the hall, and for a mad moment, Harry considered flinging the hairbrush out the window and then taking a dive after it. Where was his broom? Surely he could fly faster than Snape could chase after him.

A knock sounded on the door.

"Come in," Harry's voice nearly cracked. He couldn't remember Snape knocking much before, but the respect for his privacy was nice. However, what Snape would do in a few seconds would not be nice.

Snape came in. He sighed and shook his head, "You really have to stop those sad looks."

He handed Harry two vials of brownish potions. Only Snape would be able to come back from the dead, handle the Wizarding world, and find spare potions for his recalcitrant son. Harry downed the potions and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. Yuck!

"You're mental if you think I'm going over your lap," Harry ground out stiffly.

"I said you could bend over the bed," Snape picked up the brush.

Harry started shaking as he leaned over the bed, bending his knees to accommodate his height. He folded his arms and buried his head in them, mortified.

A strong hand went on his back.

"You are going to calm down."

Smack!

Harry jerked his head up as his mouth formed around a silent protest of _Ow!_ He had forgotten how much spankings hurt.

"You are to go to bed like a good boy."

Smack!

"And tomorrow I'm not putting up with any of your nonsense."

Smack!

"I care about you, and your happiness and safety is important to me."

Smack!

"And you don't ever threaten me with your magic. That might work with the rest of the dunderheads, but not me."

Harry was blinking furiously, trying to block out the words and the pain. They were chipping away at him, breaking his resolve to take this stoically.

Snape spanked him six more times, eliciting low grunts from Harry.

At number ten, Harry sputtered, "I'm settled. I'm settled! You can stop."

"You," Snape put the brush down, "are going to be the death of me." He pulled Harry up and looked at him, a hand on his shoulder. "But I suppose I already died so that's one less thing to worry about."

Harry grabbed the man in a tight hug. "Don't ever leave me again," he sniffed into Snape's shoulder, not trusting himself to say more.

"I'm not going anywhere. And you are still my boy . . . my son."

Harry didn't make a sound, fighting against the emotions that rolled over him.

Snape got him into bed, and Harry rolled on his side, rubbing his face with the back of his hand. His rear end hurt, but it was calming as some of the guilt slipped away and he just felt tired and content. He didn't even remember closing his eyes before he found himself deep in dreams.

HP&HP&HP

The next morning found him slightly more nervous as he found a quill and long parchment waiting at his place at the table.

Snape was reading the paper which had pictures of him and Harry and Snapdragon Manor all over it. "Eat some breakfast," Snape said without looking up. "Then I have something I want you to do before you start writing."

Harry dug into the food without comment.

"I'm going to be busy most of the day," Snape turned a page in the paper. "If you need me, tell the house elves and they'll get a message to me."

"All right," Harry agreed. He felt slightly fragile, and he kept looking at the parchment with dread. What if he didn't remember everything? What had happened to his notes on the days he had used the timeturner? If he could find them, that would help. But they had been in his satchel which he had carried when he went to Gringotts. Good luck finding that.

Harry stabbed the eggs and shoved them in his mouth.

"That's what I'm looking for," Snape folded the paper.

"I'm sorry?"

"Nothing. Finish eating. But whatever you're thinking about, keep thinking about it."

Harry blinked at that request but he finished the food, drank his milk and tea, and then sat back.

"I realized," Snape poured another cup of tea and stood up, "that part of the difficulty in handling you is addressing your temper."

"I know I have to watch my temper," Harry said.

"On the contrary," Snape stirred the tea slowly, "this morning you are getting a pass. I'm giving you a chance to vent all you like."

Harry blinked in confusion.

Snape backed against the wall and leaned against it. "For the next ten minutes, give into it. Let your temper out. You'll feel better and you'll be more stable for your task today."

"Unbelievable! Last night you spanked me to settle me down, and now you want me to rile myself up?"

"No, I want you to throw a temper tantrum and get it out of your system. There isn't anything in this room that I can't repair. For ten minutes, you can break anything you like. The only rules are you may not hit me, you may not hurt yourself, and you may not leave the room. Everything else, you have the freedom to smash, throw, or scream at."

Harry got out of his chair. He looked at the table with the breakfast dishes.

"It's not like my potions closet," Snape assured him, putting his cup on the sideboard and taking out a small watch. "I can repair all the objects in here. No magic though, just physical force. So yell and stomp all you like."

"Can I swear?"

"Why not?" Snape set the watch. "Ten minutes."

"I don't think this will –"

"Nine minutes, fifty-five seconds."

Harry whirled and gave the dining room table a vicious sidekick. China shattered everywhere.

With a roar, he grabbed his chair and broke it over the table. And then he threw the remaining pieces up at the hanging chandelier where the unlit candles rested between glass crystals.

The sound of that chandelier breaking was the best thing Harry had ever heard.

Snape's mouth dropped open slightly as he covered the top of his teacup to protect it from falling glass.

"I didn't think you'd break the chandelier. I thought you'd be yelling more than breaking –"

And then he had to duck as Harry threw the teapot into the gilded mirror hanging over the sideboard.


	16. The List

It was, Harry reflected as he smashed several large vases to smithereens, the first time he had ever been allowed to destroy a room so enthusiastically. Draco had called him a bull in a china shop before, but Harry had felt guilty when he broke things. Now, he unleashed all the rage and energy he had repressed for weeks, months, and years.

All those years of controlling himself, of working to take up as little space as possible, of crouching back to appear invisible –

Harry tossed an empty crystal decanter up in the air and he used the broken leg of a chair to swing and hit the decanter in midair. It was just like a cricket bat, and the leg smashed through it, blasting glass across the room like a firework might explode.

"Ha-ha! Take that, you bastard!" Harry roared as he reached for another glass.

"In hindsight," Snape took a sip of tea, "this wasn't one of my brightest ideas. Oh, Harry, no, not the potion anthologies. Some of them are over two hundred years old."

"Everything dies!" Harry knocked the old books from the table and kicked them across the floor into the other broken pottery, glass, and wood. "Everything burns! Die, you slimy –" he broke into some choice language that had Snape shaking his head as he finished his tea.

"Absolutely deplorable. And you had to break the teapot before I could get another cup," Snape looked at his empty cup sadly. "It was Earl Gray. I need more tea. I didn't get any tea while I was scattered."

"Your body did," Harry set his eyes on a stately satin chair and began thrashing it to pieces.

"But I don't remember tasting it. You only have three minutes left. I really did think you would spend the time screaming. Usually you want to wail at something. This violence to nice décor really gives me pause. Now, what did that pillow ever do to you?"

Harry had ripped a plump chair pillow in half with a wild growl. Feathers flew everywhere, and Harry flung them into the air with a primal cry.

The house elves had appeared within the first few minutes of the tantrum, but Snape had waved them away, whispering that he would clean up the mess himself. The elves had looked horrified, but they still left.

"Harry, it's time to start wrapping this nonsense up. You only have a minute left."

"I want more time," Harry seized a silver candelabra and beat it against a picture on the wall. "I never get all the time I want. Never, never, never – ahhh!" he jumped up and ripped the picture down.

"No, you don't!" Snape looked for a place to put his cup down emphatically, but unfortunately all the furniture was broken so he took out his wand and cast a spell on the cup to make it hover in the air.

"You got your wand back?" Harry looked at him. "I didn't get mine back. They won't give me mine back. I never get _anything I want ever_! Agh!" he started chewing on the frame of the picture.

"Stop that. You're not a dog," Snape was aghast. "Harry, Harry, get up."

"I'm not done!"

Snape marched over and pulled him up. Harry struggled for a second, but then just as quickly, his temper died away. He stood, breathing hard and then he looked over the damage he had caused.

Other than the teacup in the air, there wasn't a single unbroken object in the room.

Straightening his glasses, Harry blinked at the destruction. "Did I really –"

"Your hands are cut," Snape noticed the blood smears on his palms.

"Oh, the glass I guess."

Snape frowned and landed a swat on his son's backside. "I told you not to hurt yourself."

"I didn't even realize it," Harry stepped back sheepishly, ignoring the impulse to rub. "I didn't feel anything . . . in my body at least. I – I think I need to sit down."

"There isn't a – oh, you try my patience," Snape cast a repairing spell on a dining room chair. Once it was restored, he let Harry slump into it.

Harry was trembling and sweating, and he kept trying to calm down. Who would have guessed that he had such a demon inside him? That rage – unchecked and freed – was a little scary.

"Sorry about the mess," he muttered.

"Well, you made it, so you can help clean it back up," Snape skidded on the glass as he tried to pick up his potion books.

"You said I couldn't do permanent damage in here."

"I thought you would just throw a plate or two, not break every single thing."

"I left the windows and the walls alone. And I didn't throw anything at you. I really wanted to, but I stopped myself."

Snape gave him a look, and Harry dropped his gaze to the blood on his hands.

"Can I have a healing potion?"

"Yes, but you're still not allowed in my potions closet."

"If you hadn't come back, it would have been mine. I would have blown it up again."

Snape straightened wearily with his precious books. "That tantrum was supposed to wear you out, not make you twice as defiant."

"You haven't seen defiance yet."

"Harry, please, I've only had my soul and body back two days."

"Sorry," Harry stood to help with the books, but Snape shook his head.

"No, you'll get blood on them. Go ask Nabby for a healing potion, and then come back here. I'll repair things and you can put them in their rightful place."

Once his hands were healed, Harry spent a half hour cleaning up. Snape cast _Reparo _on the furniture first, and Harry moved the table back into place, positioned the chairs, and moved the sideboard against the wall. Snape began on the smaller objects, and Harry took each repaired piece of décor and placed it carefully in its original place.

The cleaning process felt nice, and Harry hummed tunelessly under his breath as he worked. The tea and ink had splashed over the floor, but a few cleaning spells left the hard wood clean again. The hardest to heal was the chandelier but Snape got it back to together, crystals and all. Harry put the candles back himself, standing on a chair atop the main table while Snape held the chair steady and warned him to be careful and not to even think of doing a trick to get down. (Harry toyed with the idea of doing a front flip to land, but he decided he was already in enough trouble.)

"That was fun," Harry surveyed the tidy room when they were done. "Can I do it again?"

"No, you can't do it again. I was trying to let you release some tension before you started writing. I didn't realize you would enjoy it this much. It's time to write."

"I like breaking things more than writing," Harry groused as he sat down. After a second, he added, "Thank you. That did help."

Snape raised his eyebrows, slightly shaking his head, but he didn't scold further. He got a new parchment and quill with ink and set them in front of Harry.

"Here you go. Take as long as you need. When you like, take a break, but do not destroy anything. Walk around a bit. I'm going now. Call the house elves if you need me."

Worn out finally, Harry picked up the quill and brushed his hand over the parchment as he thought about what to write. He didn't know whether to write a narrative like a story or start listing his crimes.

"_It's not fair," _a voice complained from the back of his mind. "_I had no choice in the decisions. I'm not writing anything."_

"Well, you don't have to," he replied to himself. "Snape said you could omit anything you didn't want him to know. But if you don't tell him, you can't feel guilty about it."

"_I don't feel guilty._"

"Liar, you do feel guilty."

"_Well, whose fault is that?_"

"It's not mine."

"_It's not mine either. So, we're agreed. We don't tell Snape anything._"

"Oh, shut up and start writing."

Harry put the quill to the parchment. He wrote _Had sex with Luna _at the top. That was soon followed by _Lied to McGonagall, Escaped Hogwarts, _and _Convinced friends to escape Hogwarts_. Harry considered whether or not to put down the bit about driving in the enchanted car as he had been reprimanded for that years ago when he was twelve. He put it down anyway, figuring that he could scratch out any information that he decided against telling Snape at the end of his writing.

By noon, Harry was on the second sheet of parchment and up to twenty-seven actions. It did feel cathartic to write it all down and move forward. When it was time for Snape to read it – well, Harry would weigh the pros and cons of adding another point to the list by running away from home.

The house elves brought him some lunch, and he inquired, "Nabby, will you ask Snape if I can go out flying for a while as a break? I won't go far."

The house elf came back with the message," Master Snape is saying Master Harry may go, but he is saying you must stay in sight of the house."

After eating, Harry went in search of his old broom. His new one, the Christmas present from Snape, had been smashed to bits when Ron was captured. But the old broom still had life to it, and Harry flew hard and rough against the icy rain of the late January air. The lake had started icing over, and Harry skimmed over it, letting the tips of his shoes slide and scrape over the thin sheet of ice.

When he lost all feeling in his fingers and nose, he went back inside. He took the parchment and quill and went into the family room to sit beside the fire to dry out and keep writing. Sitting sideways with his legs hanging over the arm of his chair, he bore down on one of Snape's large books. He had gotten to the part about St. Mungo's, and his memories were slightly muddled as for three days he had just hung out in that hospital room.

He had left space in between each point, and he went back and filled in actions that were positive (_Made sure Luna didn't get hurt_) and neutral (_Researched rejoining spells in Flourish and Blotts_). He halfway hoped that good decisions might cancel out poor ones, but at least he was covering himself as best he could. (After all it was Snape who had the annoying habit of thinking that some positive actions were negative and vice versa. It was always a bit of a gamble as Snape let some things go like his school mark and harped endlessly on other small things like not flying without a coat in the winter.)

"Here you are," Snap wandered in mid-afternoon. "Did you have fun flying?"

"It was grand," Harry replied without looking up.

"Was it grand skating over the ice and nearly falling in?"

Harry did look then. "You were watching? I wasn't even that close to the water; I was maybe half an inch over it. You worry too much."

"Are you on your third piece of parchment?"

"Perhaps," Harry covered the writing with his hand. "Don't look. You can read it all at once."

"It's going to give me a stroke," Snape grumbled as he fell into his own chair.

"Now who's being melodramatic?"

Snape gave him a half-sneer but didn't comment.

Harry paused. "Is 'pickpocket' one or two words? Would I hyphenate it if I said 'I used magic to pickpocket a Muggle'?"

Snape stiffened. "Harry Potter, you did not use magic on a Muggle."

"Just once on a London street," Harry scribbled down a note. "I needed Muggle money and I took forty quid from him."

"Harry."

"It wasn't nearly as bad as what I did to that wizard chap that I impersonated with Polyjuice Potion. They think he skipped out on his room rent and meal payment. I figure he owes the Leaky Cauldron about twenty Galleons."

"Just keep writing," Snape ordered.

An hour later, Harry finished his list on the fourth piece of parchment and ended it with _This is all I can remember after a day of reflection. Any missing points are unintentional. H.P._

"Here you go," Harry handed Snape the papers. "It's all here, as best as I can organize."

Snape took them. He said nothing but his eyes grew slightly at all the writing on the sheets.

"Well," Harry started backing towards the door, "I'll leave you in peace. You can look for me in Australia where I hear the weather is lovely this time of year."

"Go stand in the corner," Snape pointed at the empty corner down from the fire, "until I'm finished reading."

"You're making me stand in the corner?" Harry's face fell. "I thought the punishment came after the verdict of a crime."

"Oh, I have plenty of crime here," Snape replied, almost sarcastically as he held up the parchments. "Go stand there and don't move."

"Not fair," Harry moved into the corner and dropped his head into the intersection of the walls. "Corner standing and a spanking before you read anything. I want to be punished for things I've done and not even then."

"And no talking!"

Harry sighed but he fell quiet.

The tension in the room grew the longer Snape read. Harry could hear the paper rustle and occasionally Snape would hiss or tsk with disapproval. Harry cringed at each noise, wishing he had learned to Apparate so he could escape the wrath about to fall on his head.

His legs got tired and he leaned against the walls in boredom. He could go outside right that moment and run five miles through the woods, but somehow standing for more than three minutes in the corner made his legs ache. Yes, he was hurting from standing still, and it had nothing to do with how nervous he felt about the confrontation that would soon follow.

Snape made another sound, and Harry nearly kicked the corner.

"Read faster!"

"If you don't stop squirming," Snape's voice was calm, but foreboding, "I will pull you out of there for an attitude adjustment and then keep reading."

Harry had no answer for that. Part of him bristled at the idea of submitting to whatever punishment Snape deemed appropriate. He was sixteen and the hero of the Wizarding world, kind of, despite the imminent trial, and he knew he could put up a good fight against Snape. Snape could only punish him if Harry decided to go along with it.

"_But you will go along with it. Don't pretend you're going to do anything else," _the annoying voice in the back of his head was back.

"Don't have to," Harry muttered.

"_Oh, that's rich. You don't have to stand here, but you're doing it. You didn't have to go upstairs for that settling spanking, but you did it. You like having these boundaries, someone to make you toe the line._"

"I could do it all by myself."

"_Admit it – you need these consequences. They make you feel safe, secure, cared for_."

"I'm not a baby."

"_You'll think that when you're crying in a few moments._"

"I won't cry!"

"_Oh, Harry, I've been you for the last sixteen years, and you are absolutely about to start crying. The only question is how long you fight it. You'll feel better once you just give in. You've been longing to have some kind of release for the last week_."

"Can I just have a little dignity?"

"Ahem!" Snape's voice brought Harry back to the present. "Are you through muttering?"

"Yes."

"Come here."

Harry turned and dragged his feet towards Snape. He stared at his feet.

"Harry, look at me please."

He kept his gaze on the floor, shaking his head quickly.

"I want you to go over there to the bookshelves and pour me two-fingers of fire-whiskey."

Harry did look at him then. "You want to get drunk?"

"No, I want a shot of fire-whiskey to help me get to the end of this list without reacting inappropriately."

Harry stumbled to the bookshelf and uncorked the alcohol. He poured the liquid into the glass, hands shaking as he realized he had never seen Snape drink anything stronger than wine at dinner; For a moment, Harry considered raising the bottle to his own lips and gulping it down until he was calm, but he decided against it.

He went back and handed Snape the glass.

"Thank you. You can have a seat."

Harry fell into his chair. Despite the coolish air of the family room, sweat dripped down Harry's back and his knees bounced up and down as he waited.

Seconds crawled by. Snape had only taken one sip of the alcohol and Harry stared at the rest of it in the glass, amber liquid held in by carved crystal.

"Very well," Snape set the parchment down on his lap. "Let me just say, three things are more than obvious here. Number one, your magic is off the charts. This kind of power was the kind the Dark Lord was showing right before he rose to power about seventeen years ago."

Harry didn't breathe.

"I don't know how much the power is a result of you wanting it or seeking it or it just showing up. Which brings me to number two – I'm keeping you on a very short leash. You're under house arrest, but that's not nearly enough. In the next few days, I'll be setting up the hidden lab again and starting more experiments."

Harry felt his stomach drop.

"The difference now will be that you'll be in there while I research. All summer and this Christmas, I used the lab to see if you were capable of defeating evil. But you've gone far, far past that."

"I'm not a lab rat," Harry managed to say.

"No, you're a volatile vessel of power waiting to wreak havoc. You impregnated a girl at Hogwarts with a man's soul. Do you think that has ever happened in the history of documented magic?"

A single tear slid down Harry's cheek. "I'm not a freak. I'm not."

"No, you're a miracle. And I have no idea how much of your power I share. But as long as we don't know about our magic, the more a risk we are to the Ministry. Unchecked power and magic frightens people because they fear it. It's the reason we don't reveal ourselves to Muggles. The more research I can do and present to them by the time of the trial, the easier time we will have of it."

Harry wanted to say more, to object or argue or declare he was never entering that lab willing, but he was too busy pushing back tears.

"Number three," Snape glanced down at the parchments, "you are in so much trouble. You ended up in a hospital twice? What did I say I would do if I ever found you in a hospital bed?"

Harry froze. "But – but – but I was dragged there! You can't punish me for what they did to me when I was unconscious."

"But I can for the decisions you made to get you to the hospital in the first place. We have allies through the Order of the Phoenix - Lupin, Tonks, Mad Eye, Mundungus, Shacklebolt. Why didn't you contact them instead of this Gringwad fellow?"

"Well, once McGonagall and Mrs. Longbottom turned against us I thought . . ."

"Minerva told me yesterday that barely a week after the final battle, you were discovered sneaking strong pain-cancelling potions out of my quarters after ransacking it, and when they took you to the infirmary, you jumped out the window."

"They wouldn't let me explain!"

"Was this before or after you had impregnated Luna and convinced your friends to escape the school?"

Harry shut his mouth with a snap and glared at the floor, determined not to say anything else to get him into trouble.

"Ah, there," Snape pointed towards him with the parchment, "it's that kind of attitude that keeps getting you into trouble. Sheer defiance and stubbornness which turns into disobedience sooner or later."

Harry felt his cheeks burn at being scolded like a child, but he still didn't say anything. Inside, he was a mess of conflicting feelings and thoughts. He wanted to scream in frustration and cry in regret; he wished someone would hold him to comfort him and he wished he could punch his fist through the wall. But he was scared to move for fear that if he did anything, his magic might make the roof explode off the place. And that would be one more thing to write down on the list.

Snape stood and put the parchment on the side table. With his wand, he drew over a sturdy desk and placed it in the middle of the room. Muttering incantations, he transfigured the desk so it had a polished top, and then it lowered a few inches, and one of the edges drooped from a sharp right angle to a curved bend.

Harry knew what that meant; he was supposed to bend over that side on the curved edge which wouldn't jut into his body as he rested his upper body on the top.

Snape was unbuttoning the cuff of his right arm and rolling the sleeve up which sent little flashes of fear up Harry's spine.

"Let me explain how this will work."

"Please don't," Harry mumbled under his breath.

Snape's lips twitched for a second, but then he grew stern. "We are far beyond any simple, single punishment here. Before we go to trial, I'm going to make sure you know what to say and what not to say because that list," he pointed to the parchment, "would land you in Azkaban for sure. I'm going to charm it so only I can read it, and you will never speak to anyone about what you did unless I am present. The bit with the stolen timeturner and the impersonation of someone else is enough alone to get you five years in prison."

Harry just nodded.

"But just so we clear the air around here, this desk," Snape brought his hand down sharply on the polished top and Harry jumped, "will remain in the center of the room until you've served enough time over it to assuage whatever guilt you have about the last two weeks. Whenever I feel it necessary, I will bring you in here for a spanking."

Harry felt sure his face was about to burst into flames from his embarrassment.

"And," Snape went on, "whether I bring you in here five times or twenty-five, I expect you to come to the desk, bend over it, and stay still without any fuss."

"Tw-twenty –f-five t-t-t –" Harry couldn't even finish the thought it was so awful.

"At my discretion. As long as the desk stays here in the middle of the room, we aren't done. When it's back against the wall, you'll know we're finished here. Let's get started, shall we?" Snape flexed back his right shoulder, stretching the muscles. "You know, I think my return from the dead has made me even stronger."

"Utter bastard," Harry grumbled under his breath as he stood and went toward the table.

He looked down at its polished top, gleaming so much he could see his reflection. He bent over and put his chest on the surface, shifting to angle his hips back so he had a little room to shift (or kick) when the heat built in his backside.

"Hope my magic doesn't step in and knock you across the room," he scowled as Snape stepped behind him.

"Don't be silly – you couldn't hurt me and you don't want to. Your magic is smart enough to know that."

The first swat landed, and it was so much harder than the settling spanking had been last night. Harry whined in complaint, but Snape swatted him again.

The first two spanks were loud and harsh in the quiet room, but then Snape started scolding, intermingling swats between natural pauses. "I cannot believe after I went to so much trouble to train you and to get you to think about the consequences of your actions, you slept with Luna. I told you to be careful about those sorts of things, and you went ahead and had sex with her anyway."

"Your – _Ow!_ – soul," Harry gasped.

"You didn't know she was going to carry my soul at the time," Snape kept swatting him. "If that had been part of your decision-making process, then I might understand it, but you thought she was carrying a real baby, didn't you? And once she was pregnant, did you spend any time thinking about whether or not she should go with you on a dangerous journey where all of you would be attacked?"

The tears had crept up, and Harry took in a shuddering breath as he buried his face in his arms. The heat across his backside was hot and stinging, and Snape's hand came down on the top of his thighs from time to time, igniting more heat.

"Ow," he groaned into his arms. "I'm – I'm sorry!"

"You're always sorry once you've gotten into trouble. _Accio _ruler!"

"Ah!" Harry tensed up as he lifted his head, splashing several tears on the polished wood. "Not the ruler! Please, Snape, you didn't say anything about a ruler. I'll be too sore as it is."

"I said no fussing," Snape brought the ruler down with a pop. "Now, you just stay still and think about why you have this punishment coming and what decisions – better decisions – you'll make in the future."

Harry wanted to say that one of those decisions would be to never bring Snape back to whole again, but the ruler was coming down in firm, sharp smacks so he thought it was better not to risk the safety of his bottom with any cheek from his mouth.

Compared to the physical pain he had witnessed over the last few weeks (not to mention the months of training), Harry knew the spanking was certainly less than he had endured before. Snape wasn't beating him by any means; the ruler was swatting down in firm spanks at a tempo and speed that practically sang out, "Naughty, naughty, naughty boy!" over and over again.

But the actual reprimand itself and the fact that Snape felt he needed several punishments to get them back on track and that Snape cared enough to correct him instead of leaving him to rot in a hospital or prison –

Harry started crying in earnest. The feelings that had tormented him for the longest time spilled out with sobs, and he let them come without worry or concern. He let himself go, and the flood of tears and emotion felt unbelievably good after bottling it up for so long.

He wasn't aware of how long the paddling went on or when Snape stopped, but Harry realized it was over when he was pulled up into a firm embrace.

He hid his face in Snape's shoulder and cried for a few seconds before wailing, "I'm sorry. I'm sorry!"

"I know, I know," Snape patted his back. "And I was scared, too. You have no idea how much it terrified me to be trapped without my body, unable to help you. And when I came back, to see you there in the open with the crowd about to attack you – I was so worried for my boy."

Harry's shoulders shook with sobs, but Snape didn't scold further.

After a moment, Snape steered him towards the sofa and made him lie down on his side. "Take a quick nap before dinner and you'll feel better."

Harry rubbed his sore rear-end as Snape reached for a quilt to drape over him. The warmth from his bottom radiated through his trousers, but Harry doubted if he would have bruises. The redness would likely fade by morning, thanks to the weathered condition of his body.

He made a disgruntled face and it grew when he glanced towards the desk.

"I can't sleep in here with that thing just standing there," he said as Snape spread the quilt over him. "It's like putting a hangman's gibbet in a prisoner's cell to scare him."

"If it made the prisoner behave, I don't see the problem. And if you have the strength to argue, I clearly didn't spank you for long enough."

"Evil," Harry murmured as he closed his eyes. The pillow felt good under his head and he was tired, worn out, both physically and emotionally.

He heard Snape settle in his arm chair and heard the rustle of pages. He thought about calling out for Snape to stop reading the parchment as it would just make the man upset again. But he also thought Snape might be reading a book.

It crossed Harry's mind to open his eyes to see, but exhaustion had already pulled him down into the cobwebs of sleep where peace let him relax for the first time in weeks.


	17. Quiet Grief

**AN: So, I started writing this story before the last Harry Potter book was out and some of my details don't align with the book. I tried to make the best of both worlds, but if you think this isn't really canon, I agree. I work with what I have and I'm not being paid so . . . it is what it is.**

HP&HP&HP

Harry gulped down his last swallow of juice and pushed his chair back.

Snape didn't look up from his breakfast cuppa and the newspaper. "Where are you going?"

"I was going to go fly for a bit."

"Later."

"Come on – is this about skimming over the ice? I'll avoid the lake, good?"

"No," Snape yanked the paper down, "it is not good."

Harry made a face. "You want me . . . in the family room? I'm not sore from yesterday, but I was hoping for a little break."

"No, not that. Do you think you're just going to spend your time flying and playing about?"

"Fine," Harry sighed, "we can go to the lab."

"Harry," Snape's tone was firm, but patient, "what about school?"

"What about it? I'm here under house arrest."

"I mean, don't you think you should be learning something? You would be in classes if you were at Hogwarts."

"I don't have a wand here."

"So all magical learning is done with a wand?"

Harry wrestled with his temper for a moment, struggling not to snap back at his father. His hands clenched and unclenched, but he stood still. "I'm sorry, sir. I apparently was not considering all angles of . . . things. What would you like me to be doing?"

"Well, first of all, did you straighten your room before you came down?"

"No, that's why we have house elves . . ." Harry trailed off at Snape's look and backed towards the door. "I'll go straighten it now."

"Meet me in the library when you're done."

It took a few minutes to pull up the covers of the bed and stuff clothes into drawers and the laundry hamper, but Harry dawdled over the chore, figuring the longer it took the more it seemed like he was doing.

Once down in the library, Snape had a pile of books waiting for him. Harry sat down at the table and glanced over them. "Transfiguration, Wizard History, Potions Poisons and Cures. What, no Divination?"

He laughed at Snape's disgruntled expression and flipped open the potions book. "So does this mean I get to use ingredients from your precious potions closet, or do I just get to read about making them?"

"You're in a remarkably good mood. After yesterday, I expected you to be in a temper."

"No, remember, I'm always insufferably cheeky after you punish me."

"That's usually because you think you're in the clear for the next minute. Under our current agreement, that's not true."

"First of all," Harry tried not to wear his careless grin that annoyed Snape, "there was no agreement, per se. And I'm not going to kick up a row at you being a bit heavy-handed. If I wanted freedom, I would have kept the Soulless Snape and ruled here as lord of the manor."

Snape's lips twitched. "Stop it," he fought against his amusement. "I'm trying to be strict with you, and you're not acknowledging it."

"Can I ask a serious question then?"

"It better not be if I'm qualified to home-school you. Any doubt about my teaching skills, and I'll drag you to that desk myself."

"You're a fine teacher," Harry brushed away the threat, ignoring Snape's frown at the dismissal of being just a "fine" teacher. "It's about Hogwarts. When are we going back?"

Snape ran a hand over his lower jaw. The Soulless Snape hadn't been able to handle a razor so Snape had had to scrape away all the dark hair that had grown unkempt in those days.

It was a stalling tactic; Harry had recognized it after a few months of living with the man. When caught with a tough question, Snape touched his face. Harry stammered and babbled – that was his tell.

"If it's until the trial, that's fine," Harry hedged. "I can learn here until then, but I don't know what they'll do without their Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher."

"They've already filled that position."

"Oh, you're back to Potions? It's fine, really, your talents are incredible when it comes to po-"

"They've filled that position too."

Something flashed inside Harry's chest, a warning of bad news to come, but he swallowed hard. "I don't suppose they're making you headmaster?"

"That's McGonagall."

"Just tell me."

Snape rubbed one of his temples, and Harry jerked in his chair.

"Stop stalling. I brought you back from the dead. Tell me what I need to know."

"Is that how you'll win arguments from now on? Remind me that you brought me back from the dead?"

"Yes, so spill."

"I tried, Harry, I did. I worked so hard to get them to come around, but they wouldn't give in. They wanted both of us in prison but I countered with house arrest. I even got them down to house arrest that extended to the grounds though the wards are spelled to notify the Ministry if either of us steps outside them."

"We're prisoners. But just until the trial. Once our names are cleared –"

"I tried to bargain for our return to Hogwarts. I asked McGonagall to take a vote from all the professors there about our return."

"And?"

"It was unanimous . . . against our return."

Harry felt his eyes throb. He gripped the table with shaky hands. "Against us? Even McGonagall and Hagrid and Sprout and the others?"

"Hagrid didn't vote," Snape said, his expression sad. "But after Dumbledore's death, parents were concerned. You saw the letters we got, and we have another few bags full since then. That's minimal compared to what Hogwarts got. The Wizarding world's in turmoil, and you were unstable as far as they knew. I did try to argue against a ban. I offered to resign my position and just let you go alone. I offered for me to teach and you to act as my apprentice living at school but not a full pupil. I even tried to get you entered as a day student. We could live at Hogmeade and you could go to school every day and leave each night."

"But the answer was no," Harry nodded bitterly.

"It was. I understand their fear on some level."

"Don't rationalize. Don't try to make this better."

"If we were on the other side of this – if McGonagall had adopted a daughter and that daughter killed the Dark Lord and went on a rampage against the Ministry and broke a number of laws, I wouldn't want you at school with her."

"I'd probably marry her," Harry said. "She sounds amazing."

"But I can understand parents' concerns. They send their children to us for us to care for, teach, _protect_, and if we can't, they have every right to pull their children out."

"Hogwarts has always been dangerous."

"Magical instruction has a risky component," Snape agreed, "and children might suffer minor injuries, usually from other careless children, but it was never dangerous. I'm sorry to tell you this, but the school has been much more dangerous since you started attending it than before."

Harry kicked out, striking his foot against the leg of the table.

"You can't rampage in here," Snape glanced nervously to the bookshelves. "I like my books untouched."

"It's unfair," Harry seethed. "My whole life has been rotten. So unfair and it just keeps coming and I can't stand it. I hate it!"

"You have every right to be angry about this. But I don't agree with you having a rotten life. Do you want to be an ordinary student with an ordinary life and ordinary worries?"

"Yes!"

"You would be sitting at Hogwarts, listening to Binns ramble on and never experiencing anything special or extraordinary. You wouldn't have all this potential and power. You would have stayed at Hogwarts, waiting for someone else to kill the Dark Lord and skirting around the edges any time something dangerous happened. I wouldn't have adopted you, you would have never lived here – just a plain wizard with average skills."

"Don't use logic. I want to be irrational and furious."

"How many teenagers get to throw a fit like you did yesterday without repercussions?"

"Ron gets to act out, sometimes."

"Do you think Ron would have recognition at all if not for you?"

"Ron's special!"

"Of course, but would he have tapped into his special skills without you? Or would he be an awkward redhead with a pet rat, drooling over the girls and never having the nerve to speak to Hermione?"

Harry shifted in his seat. Snape was right, but – but – but –

"I got kicked out of Hogwarts! How many wizards get kicked out of Hogwarts?"

"Ah, look, another thing that makes you special."

"I'm upset," Harry leaned over the table, resting his head on the stack of books. "Hogwarts was my home. They were my family."

"Now you have a new home and family."

Harry wanted to give Snape a trusting smile, but he was fighting so hard against tears that he just nodded.

"Oh, Harry," Snape put a hand on his shoulder, "I know, I know."

Harry struggled to push down the feelings. He gripped the books tight and tried to ignore the hand on his shoulder and the man for whom he had sacrificed so much to have again.

"When you're marked for greatness, tough decisions lie in your path. I would love to make life easier for you, to give you everything you want and need, to make sure you're happy. But I can only do so much. I'm just one man. I'm sorry if that's not enough."

"Stop it," Harry said into his arms. "I don't want to cry and I don't want to feel this way."

"All right, I'll give you a choice. We can go to the family room and give you some 'help' with your grief or we can go to the lab and busy ourselves with looking at the Dark Mark still on your arm."

It was an awful choice – a spanking or a probing. Option three would probably involve being lit on fire.

"Lab," Harry sat up, "but only because you'll still smack me later and I'll be upset then and want to sleep and I don't want to sleep now."

"It's alright not to want a spanking. That's generally the idea behind them, unless you're a masochist."

"If I was," Harry stood up and trailed after Snape, "you'd find something else I disliked just as much."

"No comment."

The room with the plants was empty so they didn't have to bother with masks. Harry felt a moment's guilt because he had helped moved those plants that were destroyed, but he didn't apologize as the plants had felt like more trouble than they could ever be worth.

The lab had been patched up, but papers still littered the floor and blood stains were on the floor.

"I can't believe you thought it was fine to experiment on me for so long," Harry groused as Snape lit all the candles.

"I researched you. What I'm about to do in the near future is experiment on you."

"After all those years of threatening to put me in a potion," Harry smirked.

"Exactly. Roll up your sleeve and let me see the Mark."

Harry rolled up his left sleeve and held out his arm, angling the soft flesh of his underarm under Snape's gaze. "I don't feel it. It only hurt when you gave it to me. We tried to figure out the exchange of marks, but the closest we got was Luna telling Hermione that they had to be equal. Hermione had a theory about magic displacement and even exchange and that's why my magic got so strong."

Snap trailed his fingers across the tattooed skin, and Harry jerked it back.

"Does that hurt?"

"No, I'm ticklish," Harry tried not to snigger as Snape grabbed his wrist with one hand and held it as the other felt around. "Ah! Push harder. Too soft is ticklish."

"Please," Snape rolled his eyes, "stop being such a baby. It hasn't faded at all."

"I don't know what the problem is if I just keep it. The Dark Mark was for Death Eaters to identify each other and it was a way for Voldemort to call you to him. Now that he's gone, does it matter if I have a tattoo? I'm not a Death Eater and I doubt anyone will call through it."

"It would go easier for you at the trial if we got rid of it."

Harry bit the side of his tongue as he considered that information. "I'm assuming it's a painful process. Otherwise, you'd have me lying down on this table as you removed it."

"It's painful," Snape nodded.

"Maybe we could see if Gringwad has a talent for that too," Harry studied his arm, twisting his wrist back and forth so it looked like the snake was moving. _"I'd pay him more money."_

"That last bit was in Parseltongue. You are forbidden from contacting that bloke ever again."

"Says who? The Ministry?"

"Says me," Snape said ungrammatically but the look in his eye make Harry glance away rather than correct him. "You aren't to associate with characters like that. They may seem like a good choice in your youth, but then they convince you to make poor decisions."

"Like give them money?"

"How do you think I got that in the first place?" Snape indicated Harry's arm. "Do you think I woke up one morning and just thought I'd become a Death Eater? I was recruited. An older wizard convinced me it was the best choice I could make because I would have power and prestige. I was blinded by the idea of fame and glory, and it went wrong from there. Leave Gringwad alone."

Harry nodded and he held still as Snape prodded his arm.

"We don't have to remove the tattoo right away. I'll do more tests."

"How have other Death Eaters removed theirs?"

"No Death Eater ever has. I mean, no Death Eater has ever tried and succeeded or lived long enough to explain. The process to get one was long and painful. You had to endure several rounds of the Cruciatus curse and part of the Mark was etched by the Dark Lord's wand when it was transformed into a knife."

"Earning every bit of its Dark Arts name," Harry said. "It's a brand of agony and evil."

"Which is why it would be beneficial to have it gone before the trial."

Snape ran a battery of tests and Harry basically hung out. He winced when Snape made a small cut on the tattoo, but Snape healed him up immediately. A round of disgusting potions followed, a few which changed the color of the Mark but didn't do much else.

Eventually, Snape went to work on his cauldrons and vials, and Harry dropped to the floor for a round of sit-ups and then push-ups.

"You used to hate those," Snape commented as he dipped crushed powder into a vial of distilled water.

"They're not so bad once you get started," Harry puffed as he dipped down to touch his nose to the ground and then pushed back up. "And all those hospital stays worked against me. You aren't much of a physical threat trapped in a bed."

"Mmm," Snape's tone was noncommittal. "Do another fifty of both and then I want to start testing your magic."

The magic testing was more boring than it sounded. Without his wand, Harry had no device for channeling his power, and without a channel, the magic burst out in spurts.

"This is what it was like as a first-year," Harry said as he concentrated on moving a crate across the room. The side of the crate nearest to him was smoking from the many blasts he had flung at it.

"If you had had this type of magic in your first year, you wouldn't have gone to Hogwarts."

"I would have! Dumbledore would have let me in."

"He did have a soft spot for you," Snape said, but his voice was oddly quiet.

"He kept a lot from me."

"It was for your own good!" Snape's voice lashed through the room like a whip.

Harry stopped, surprised and a little startled.

"I'm sorry," Snape shook his head. "I shouldn't have yelled. I haven't really had time to process his death. I know he's gone, but a part of me wants to believe that he's just at school, hidden in his office. I wasn't ready for him to go, not yet. I think for me he'll always be in his office, but I won't be able to see him, to talk to him."

Harry stood still, but tears had flooded his eyes at Snape's quiet pain. He wanted to say something comforting, something that would make sense of their loss, but the words didn't come.

Snape turned back to the potions, and Harry returned to blasting at the crate.

Later that night, after laying over the table and getting smacked a dozen times while Snape lectured him for performing magic at his relatives' house, Harry went to bed around ten. The sting of the spanking disappeared quickly, and he wondered if his magic was dispersing any pain or injury because his arms didn't hurt from all the push-ups. But he saw no reason to let on that the spanking didn't hurt too much because Snape might find new ways of implementing discipline, and Harry saw no reason to rock the boat. He propped himself up in bed, reading about Quidditch, when Snape came in.

Harry looked up, expecting a potion, but the man's hands were empty.

"Is something wrong?" Harry half-closed his book.

"No," Snape sat down in the chair next to the bed. "I just . . . . thought I could come in here for a minute."

Harry closed the book and waited.

"Did I ever tell you how Dumbledore saved my life?"

As Snape had never revealed much about his history, Harry could safely answer, "No, you haven't."

"I became a Death Eater right after leaving Hogwarts. I was so angry at Alice for marrying Frank and then your mother married James, and my life was a dark, bitter place."

"You – you cared about my mother?"

"I knew her from childhood," Snape was gazing across the room as he recounted his past, almost as if he were seeing past events. "I was so unhappy at Hogwarts, but she made it bearable. My parents were estranged by then, but my father insisted I stay here, in this house full of anger and regret. I hated him so much, Harry. The week I left Hogwarts, I came here to confront him, to demand my birthright. We fought, and I injured him. I stormed off in the woods, but when I came back, the Dark Lord was here, having entered the cursed fireplace."

"Your father . . ."

"He survived, but he hid throughout the war, a coward to the very end. Voldemort suffered under the fire curse like you did, and I spent another week ensuring his health. He deemed me his most devoted follower, and a few years later, he let me in on the plan to kill your parents."

Harry didn't say anything; he didn't even move for fear of interrupting.

"I left the Death Eaters and wandered the streets of London, distraught with the idea of so much death and destruction. A lot of things happened all at once, but then I went to Dumbledore. I pulled out a vial of Veritaserum and downed it and let him question me to show what side I was on. He agreed to help, but when we got to your parents' home –"

Harry didn't even breathe.

"They were lying there," Snape closed his eyes, "James in the hall, Lily next to your crib. You were crying, trying to pull yourself up on the crib railing, but you could barely walk at that age. I held you and saw the scar, your mother's eyes and your father's hair. I wasn't sure what to do, but then we got news that the Longbottoms were in danger. I handed you to Hagrid and went with a group of good wizards to save Alice and Frank, but again, it was too late."

Snape leaned back in the chair, tilting his head up to stare at the ceiling. "I nearly went mad with grief. Dumbledore forcefully took me to Hogwarts and he helped and healed me. He let me release all my rage and anger, and after that, he made me swear allegiance to the side of good, to the side of pure magic and pure hearts. He stood up for me through the trials, and he insisted that I deserved a second chance. He wanted me to teach, but I kept arguing that I wasn't fond of children. He insisted, so I gave in. I knew then just as I know now that if he hadn't stepped in to help me, I would have died of grief in Azkaban, probably from my own hand. I owe him so much. Now that's he gone, I can't repay –"

"But he wouldn't have wanted you to think like that," Harry said, leaning forward. "He showed you kindness and guidance and forgiveness. You in turn did that same for me. Someday, I'll help someone else. That's how we repay kindness shown to us. That's how we show love for those who are gone. Our care for others is the way we honor their memory."

"You," Snape looked him, "are a very wise boy."

"I do try," Harry shrugged, but he felt the glow inside from the praise. "And I think grief is all right as long as you're sensible and don't go jumping out of windows."

Snape shook his head though a smile tugged at his lips. He stood up and then as if on impulse, he put a hand on Harry's shoulder and squeezed warmly. "Thank you, son."

Snape left, and Harry snuggled down into bed with his book, embracing the warm feeling that made him feel content even in the midst of grief.

He hadn't realized when he went to sleep, but he woke up suddenly with a jangling of alarms and knocked the book to the floor.

The alarms kept complaining, but the far window was open and Draco was halfway in, struggling with the ledge.

"Blasted depth perception," Draco tumbled to the ground. "And those alarms never went off on me before."

"Why are you here?" Harry blinked as he looked at his pocketwatch. "It's two in the morning."

"I couldn't sleep. Are those alarms ever going to stop?"

"Probably not," Harry yawned as he sat up. "And you've got about five more seconds before Snape barges in so talk fast."

A frown crossed Draco's face, but he rushed out, "My missing eye? You said you'd help me get it back. I want it back now. We have to hurry because in four days, I report to the Ministry for trial and sentencing. Mother's hysterical, and I'm pretty sure I'm going to Azkaban for a while. I need my eye now."


	18. Parental Interference

**AN: This took me a minute to write. My grandmother passed away a week ago. I lived with her for eight years; I started writing this series at her house. She was 99, but I still miss her.**

**Thank you all for reading and reviewing.**

HP&HP&HP

Harry considered the information carefully as he put on his glasses. He could hear the floorboard at the edge of the hall creak, meaning Snape was about thirty steps away. Well, thirty at normal speed. Running with the alarms blaring, and it would take Snape about seventeen steps.

"Don't say anything about it when Snape comes in," Harry warned.

"Then you'll help me?" Draco asked eagerly.

"I haven't thought it out just yet. Give me time."

The bedroom door burst open, and Snape charged in, wand drawn. The alarms died down.

"It's just Draco," Harry said, keeping his tone casual. "He couldn't sleep and –"

"You!" Snape pointed his wand at Draco. "You and I need to have a word."

"We do?" Draco backed up a step.

"I didn't have time to talk to you the other day, but now we have time."

"Actually, I should be getting home. Mother will be –"

"Mother will be fine," Snape returned. "Did you or did you not trick Harry into going to Diagon Alley for New Year's?"

"That?" Draco's one eye went wide. "That was weeks ago before you died and we ran from everyone and defended this place and oh, did he tell you about what he did with Luna?"

"He told me everything. This is about you."

Draco looked torn between helplessness and fear. "I, er . . . I only have one eye!"

"And that's the only reason I'm not smacking you up one side of this house and down the other. You tricked him into leaving the manor?"

"No, I tricked him into grabbing the Portkey which transported him from the woods of the manor. There's a difference."

Snape took a threatening step towards the blond-haired boy.

"Besides," Draco rushed on, "he agreed to meet me in the woods. He knew what was probably going to happen, which it did. So blame him for his bit."

"Oh!" Harry crossed his arms, sitting up in bed. "Typical Slytherin. Weaseling out of everything."

"I lost an eye. I blocked a curse from my father and it took out my eye. My own father."

"I'm sorry," Snape grew serious. "He's in Azkaban now. He can't hurt anyone else, especially you."

A flare of resentment rose in Harry at the idea of Snape sympathizing with Draco's loss. Snape had raked his own adopted son over the coals concerning the last few weeks, but Draco got sad looks and kind words? Rubbish!

But then . . . he had lost an eye.

Harry stayed quiet, not trusting himself to sound kind and not snarky.

"I finally told Mother what had happened," Draco leaned against the side of Harry's bed. "She went mad. She started divorce papers and she's taking back her family name. She says he can rot in prison forever, and she's hysterical over the fact that I'm going to trial soon."

"Draco, Draco, calm down. You are going to be all right, despite your father's actions. You fought on the right side and that's all that matters."

"Are you sure?" Draco's voice was hoarse. 'You don't think I should pay for all my crimes? You don't think I deserve punishment?"

"No, you were very brave. And you've already paid a high price."

Harry's jaw dropped over such unfairness. His outrage rendered him speechless, and when Snape put a comforting hand on Draco's shoulder, Harry had to clench his teeth together and repeat a mantra of "Missing eye, missing eye, missing eye," in his head to keep himself from shrieking out loud. Draco got away with everything!

"As for you," Snape gave Harry a look, "the moment the alarms went off, you should have come get me. The alarms are set up on the house for the Ministry to keep tabs on our house arrest."

"I'm sorry but I thought –"

"You're supposed to be shrinking that list, not adding to it."

Harry gasped at the gross unfairness of Snape the Traitor.

"I'm going to send a message to the Ministry. When I get back, Draco, you better be in bed."

Before either boy could say anything, Snape shot a transforming spell at Harry's bed and it jerked, split into two smaller beds, and moved around the nightstand to stand against opposite sides.

"You put me on the wrong side again!" Harry yelled at Snape's retreating back. "I like being on the other side, you –"

"He's gone," Draco shrugged as the door closed.

"Just like the summer. I never get what I want!"

"Except you still have both eyes whereas I do not."

"Oh, lay off it," Harry rolled his eyes. "We'll get you your precious eye back." He threw the covers off and stomped to the bureau to get Draco some pajamas.

"I sacrificed for you, Potter."

"And you'll milk it to the end of time," Harry thrust the pajamas (in a dark red color, ha-ha!) at Draco. "I said I'd help you, but you have to keep pushing everything. And I don't know why he made you a bed – your dearest mother will be over here, looking for you any minute now."

"Then we have enough time to plan," Draco pulled his jumper and shirt off.

His pale white skin contrasted sharply against the myriad of bruises that stood out in vivid blue and green patches.

"They don't hurt that much," he noticed Harry's gaze. "They started black and then turned purple and now all blue and green. They'll go yellow and then heal. Bruises turn every color of the rainbow before they heal, right?"

"Where did you get those?"

"Mostly from when they caught me right before we got Snape back. I surrendered as soon as the crowd grabbed me, but a few were overly enthusiastic about subduing me. Ron kept yelling at them to stop, but it took a while. They stopped when Mother showed up, mainly because her magic was reacting beyond her control."

Harry said nothing, feeling awful about his earlier disgruntled thoughts.

"The older ones," Draco looked down his arms where lingering marks remained, "are from those days dealing with Gringwad. He tried to take out Snape's soul the first time, and Luna screamed so loudly I attacked him. He beat me until Ron intervened."

"Why didn't you ask for a healing potion?" Harry asked, his tone quiet from guilt.

"We didn't have any at home and we lost our last House Elf when the Ministry sent Father back to Azkaban, mainly so the Ministry could question her. The last raid decimated our house and they took everything of value, including Mother's wand. I didn't – where are you going?"

Harry headed out into the hall, and Draco followed, pulling on the pajama top. Harry went to a small cupboard door and unlatched it, sorting through the various vials there. He took out two, smelled them both, and then handed one to Draco. "This will help."

"How do you know it's the right one?" Draco sniffed it himself and made a face.

"Believe me, I've taken enough healing draughts to know the smell of one. Take a sip. If it doesn't taste like rotten eggs with a woody dryness, then it's not the right one."

Draco took a sip. "Ugh! Yeah, eggs and woodiness."

"Bottoms up."

Draco scowled at the vial. "I hate you, Potter." He downed the rest of it and sputtered in disgust. He handed the vial back and Harry replaced it on the tray.

"Better?"

Draco nodded, letting out a sigh of relief. "That helps with the ache." He lifted his shirt to watch the bruises fade away gradually.

Harry looked towards the stairs. Snape was talking with someone in heated tones, but the words were unintelligible.

"Look," Harry rushed out, "the truth is, I'm in deep here. We both got expelled from Hogwarts for the time being –"

"We all did. Ron, Hermione, Luna, you, and me. We aren't allowed back until the trials."

Harry raked a hand through his hair in distress. "It's enough to make me want to blow the wizarding world apart!"

"I wouldn't say that at the trial."

"But seriously, I don't think I can go on another wild chase with you, not now. But," he hurried on at the terrified look on Draco's face, "but . . . I think Gringwad could help you. I know he's a brute, but he brought Snape back with my help. He wants money. I will give you money. I will get Snape to loan me the money until I can get funds at the bank. We can scrape up another 500 Galleons if we have to."

Draco shook his head.

"Listen," Harry insisted. "Money doesn't matter to me. I will pay any price you like and I will spend every last coin my parents left me to have representation at the trials and pay restitution to any wanker who causes a fuss. I'm on your side. Gringwad can –"

"He's not going to do it. He won't."

"Not true. He'll do anything for money."

Draco blinked his one eye and then nodded knowingly. "Oh, that's right, you barely saw him at all. The rest of us spent time with him."

"He's brutal and violent, I'll give you that. But he has a price."

"He does," Draco said. "And it's not money. He's a gambler and he's addicted to the danger. He knew who you were, even through the disguise. He was excited about the risk. I recognize the signs of a high-risk gambler, the look they get on their face when they play with chance and danger. The way he set up in the lab here – he ignored the money for the most part but he was gleeful as we heard reports of your apprehension. The longer the joining spell took, the more he was eager to hurt Snape and Luna . . . he was nearly delirious with the adrenaline."

"But maybe he was scared and masking it for you."

"I've seen the same look on my father's face when he took chances. Father looked mad with anticipation when he slipped Tom Riddle's diary into Ginny's books. When Father went to each Death Eater meeting, the same look. Gambling high every single time."

"Well, perhaps so, but that's even more of a reason for Gringwad to help you. You're a liability, a risk, a roll of the dice."

Draco said nothing, and Harry bit the inside of his cheek.

"Yes, fine, it's not a huge risk for him to put your eye back. But I'll make it a risk. I'll arrange it so he can't say no, can't walk away. We just can't get into anymore trouble before these trials. I don't want to be under house arrest forever and –"

He dropped off as Snape came up the stairs.

"Why are you two standing out here?"

"Draco had a few bruises left over. I gave him a healing potion."

"What? Well . . . I suppose you've taken enough of them to know the right one. Just don't make it a habit of dosing our guests."

"Of course," Harry answered, surprised at how casual he could behave after what he had just discussed with Draco. "Did you clear things up with the Ministry?"

"They were displeased that Draco would decide to pay a visit at 1:27 in the morning, but they agreed he could stay. But let me make one thing crystal clear to both of you."

He grabbed Harry by the scruff of his neck and did the same to Draco, pulling each boy close to him. Harry immediately put on his serious listening face, erasing any pretense of humor.

"Both of you," Snape's voice was deep and scarily stern, "do not even think of stepping one inch out of line. This is the time to act like ordinary students with ordinary magic and ordinary resources. You cannot draw any more attention. Zero. If you cannot behave on your own, I will turn your bedroom," this to Harry, "into a prison cell with bars on the window and an iron door and I will lock you," this to both of them, "in there until the danger blows over and no one cares what happens to you. I mean it, boys. Do not step out of line."

"Yes, sir," Harry answered immediately.

Draco was second to respond with "Yes, sir."

Snape gave them both a stern look and a shake before letting them go. "Good. Now go to bed and –"

The alarms blared out, and Snape hissed in anger.

"What now! Can I not have a minute of peace without the world intruding on my house?"

He stormed down the stairs.

Harry started after him, but Draco grabbed his arm.

"Oi! What do we do now?"

"I'm still going to help you," Harry promised.

"But the prison bedroom thing! It doesn't scare you?"

"The wizarding world couldn't keep me in a guarded hospital wing," Harry gave a slight grin. "And nothing can be scarier than that training room that Snape created for me at Hogwarts. Talk about torture."

"But I don't have your magic. I couldn't escape it."

"Then you better behave," Harry's grin grew. "But we aren't going to rush into anything. Let's go downstairs and see who's broken in now."

They reached the bottom of the steps when a female voice rang out.

"Where is my son? Where is he? Don't try to calm me down! I'll rip this house apart again, Severus Snape."

"Oh, no," Draco's face fell, "it's Mother."

"Ha," Harry smirked, "you're in trouble now."

Narcissa charged down the hallway, livid with bared teeth and bright eyes. She wore a gray coat, but her face was weary and pale. Her pretty blonde hair had gone a dull gray at her temples, and dark bags were under her eyes.

She marched right up to them and Harry backed away instinctively. She reached and grabbed Draco's ear, yanking him towards her.

"Ow, Mother," he complained, but she gave him an open-handed box on the other ear, and he cringed in shame.

"You do not sneak out of our house, you do not leave without telling me, and you never, ever leave in the middle of the night again. I have had it with you, Draco! Enough!"

He dropped his head, eyes cast down, but Narcissa's rage was only starting.

"You!" she turned to Harry. "You rotten boy. You did this! My son was a good boy until you came around. He keeps getting hurt and my family falls apart and then he lost his eye and now he's going to trial! And who keeps popping up every time something dreadful happens? It's you – filthy, wretched Harry Potter!"

"Narcissa," Snape drew close.

"No," she pointed a trembling finger at him, "no, it's not fair. My sweet baby boy sacrificed so the Boy Who Lived to Make Our Lives a Living Hell could do whatever he chooses. I won't calm down until I see him punished."

Tears had filled her blues eyes and they slipped down her cheeks, but her anger blazed on.

"I don't care about the things," she snarled at Harry. "I don't care about our manor or our wealth or our prestige. I don't care about my husband or even my sister. But my son, you hurt my son!"

Harry thought of pointing out that technically Draco had stepped in front of Lucius's curse to save Luna, but Snape put a hand on his shoulder, and Harry stayed quiet.

"My baby. My sweet baby boy. I gave birth to him, I held him as a helpless baby, I let him leave me to go to school when he was so small and frail –"

"Mother," Draco ducked away, embarrassed, "I'm not frail."

"You be quiet," she ordered him. "You say another word and I will put you across my knee just like I did when you were four and talked back to me."

Draco didn't seem to know where to look, but Snape's lips twitched once before he intervened,

"Let's just calm down and talk about –"

"I don't want to calm down," Narcissa straightened and swiped her tears away. "I know I sound hysterical but I won't be dismissed by you, Severus, and certainly not by your horrible son."

"I really am sorry," Harry ventured.

Narcissa stiffened – Harry had the sudden impression of a snake about to strike – but Snape stepped in between them.

"All right, both of you off to bed. Narcissa and I will speak to the Ministry and explain this new alarm."

"I'm not letting my baby go off with him!"

"They're just going to bed," Snape's tone was soothing. "Nothing is going to happen other than both of them getting into beds and going to sleep. Just like Draco did as a baby."

Draco glared at Snape but offered no comment.

"And how do I know your awful boy won't attack him in his sleep? His magic is unpredictable, wild, mad with revenge."

"All right, wait here," Snape left at a brisk walk.

Harry stood there and kept his eyes on the ground. He didn't dare look up because the tenseness of the room would make him start talking without thinking, and then Narcissa would have a reason to attack him.

Snape returned with a small box. "Place this in your room and we can hear what happens with the receiving box in my study. That way no one gets attacked with any wild magic."

"A Near-Ear Box," she nodded. "I had one in Draco's nursery when he was a baby."

"Mother," Draco tried to object, but she pulled him aside to talk in a low voice.

Snape did the same with Harry, warning him, "Go upstairs and go to bed. Do not talk, do not cover up the box. Put it on the nightstand and go to sleep."

"Yes, sir," Harry took the box. He felt mildly annoyed at not getting the chance to explain himself to Narcissa, but Snape was already herding him and Draco towards the stairs, the box in Harry's hand.

"You make a single noise, and I'll come up there," Narcissa threatened from the bottom of the stairs as they trudged up.

Harry didn't say a word and neither did Draco. They reached the bedroom and Harry put the box on the nightstand before climbing in bed. Draco hesitated as he picked up the pajama bottoms he hadn't changed into yet.

Harry was going to motion towards the bathroom in case the other boy wanted privacy.

But Draco stuck his hand in his trousers' pocket and pulled out a card.

Harry recognized it as Gringwad's magic card, the one given to him in Diagon Alley during the longest day of his life. He had given it to Hermione right before capture, but Draco must have found it later. Apparently, Gringwad didn't take back his cards, perhaps in anticipation of further business/adrenaline high.

Harry opened his mouth, but Draco looked at the box.

Then Draco extended his arm, offering the card to Harry.

The gesture was a clear question, a plea for help.

Harry bit his lip, glancing nervously at the box. Then he reached out and took the card.


	19. Narcissa

Harry's dreams were filled with unease, and he woke early to find cold morning light shining around the curtains. His pocketwatch said it was half past seven.

Draco was fast asleep in the other bed, but Harry slipped out, drawn to go downstairs by a feeling of dread. Sure enough, he found Snape standing by the window, looking out at the gray morning.

"You know I don't like it when you come down in pajamas without slippers," Snape said without turning around. "It's not even February yet."

"A cold is the least of my worries," Harry padded over to the window and looked out. Several wizards in dark robes were standing outside the front gate, waiting.

"I got their message at six this morning," Snape held up a folded note. "The Ministry is making an arrest at eight this morning. Two alarms last night scared them."

"They're arresting me?"

"Not you."

A burst of anger slammed through Harry. "You? They're here for you?"

The window creaked from the outburst of his anger, magic shoving against the glass pane that had been restored only days before.

"No, they're here for Draco."

Harry blinked. "Draco? But I thought his trial was set in four days. Why are they coming to get him early?"

Snape didn't answer for a moment, just watched the figures carefully.

Harry took a deep breath and forced his voice to stay calm. "I am part of this. I told you everything that I did so you would have enough information to make informed decisions. I deserve the same consideration."

Snape's fingers twitched on the note. "The Ministry has been using the last few days to amass all the details not only since December, but since last summer. You are going to trial, no doubt about that. I was hoping for more time to regroup here and then prepare, but it looks like your trial will be in four days as well. All four of you are going on trial."

"Four?"

"You, Draco, Ron, and Hermione."

"But not you or Luna," Harry felt his heart-rate pick up.

"They can't charge me with any crime or at least not anything recent. The fact that the world now knows I was a spy has put me in danger so the Ministry is content to let me stay here and fade from memory. But your choices and your friends – they all came out in the papers. Scrimgeour had to make an official statement about how he would be charging all of you. You four children could lay low, but Luna was the wildcard in this game and they played her."

"I don't understand. Luna betrayed us? How? They already knew about her and what happened to her."

"They questioned her father and the man is already a conspiracy-theory loon so it didn't take many threats for her to reveal all your actions. She loves her father and she would choose him over you or me. Apparently she gave them new information."

"I told Scrimgeour and McGonagall everything I had done when I was caught in St. Mungo's," Harry insisted. "And you and I told them everything once I brought you back. What secret information did she have?"

"She told them that Draco tricked you into going to Diagon Alley on New Year's Eve. That was seen as the catalyst to start all of this, the torch that lit the bonfire. You had glossed over that, but Luna was clear in her description of that last night. She fire-called me around midnight last night, telling me that she had to give up her information to save her father from prosecution."

"It was just a prank. A prank! He gave that portkey to take me to Diagon Alley, not to face Voldemort, but to get me in trouble. Did anyone tell the Ministry that? Draco didn't want to start the next war – he wanted me to squirm and sweat like we do at school when we get each other in trouble with teachers and detention. Like when he set me up to kiss Luna in Diagon Alley before Christmas and he knew you would see. It's like Ron and his brothers ragging at each other. Can't they understand that?"

"Draco seems like a loose cannon to them," Snape turned back to the window. "His actions have played both sides of this war. His father was pressuring him to take the Dark Mark this spring, information that Lucius gave them in hopes to reduce his own sentence. This is no longer just teenagers acting out. The Ministry is starting to use the word _treason_."

Harry looked at the wizards at the gate. Menacing and grim, they stood there waiting.

"Draco and Narcissa's break-in last night forced them into action. The Ministry can't decide if Draco is a danger to you or if he'll join you in another crime, so they're locking him up."

"What is the plan?" Harry braced himself in the same way he did before breaking into a hard training session or new battle. "We can escape through the Floo. I have enough magic to distract them while Draco –"

"We're giving him to them."

Harry couldn't believe what he was hearing. "He's going to surrender? Just go quietly? We don't go quietly. We fight and we keep fighting until the end."

"We'll fight them at the trial," Snape said as he turned from the window. "But if we struggle or try to leave, they will arrest all of us. No, Harry, you are not going to disobey me, not in this."

"But we can't just –"

"I'm giving you this choice," Snape said, and his face was so sad and serious that Harry's stomach dropped. "I will lock you in the family room so you don't have to watch or I will ask your help in keeping Narcissa from interfering. Those are the only choices you get here. I'm so sorry."

"I hate them!" Harry moved to the window. "I know leaders have to make tough decisions, but I hate them so much. I would blow the Ministry apart if you would let me. They never listen and they don't care and they pretended like nothing was wrong until Voldemort was killed and they were so cowardly and I hate them. I've never wanted to hurt anyone so much – I just want to sink my fingers into Scrimgeour's eyes and gouge them out."

Snape's hand landed on his shoulder and squeezed warmly. "That's my boy."

"You aren't going to tell me to rein in my temper? To stop invoking violence?"

"As long as you are loud and angry, I never worry. It's when you're quiet that I get worried."

Harry couldn't argue with the logic at that and he squared his shoulders, deciding to be an adult and not be locked away. "Let me go wake up Draco."

"Go ahead. Then I'll get Narcissa."

The walk upstairs was the slowest Harry had ever moved. Part of him wondered how long he could drag out the walk; maybe if he never reached the bedroom, he would never have to give Draco up.

He finally got to his room and pushed open the door. Draco was sound asleep, one hand flung towards the wall in exhaustion. He slept with the eyepatch on, a magic spell keeping the straps from moving.

Harry looked at the window and weighed his options of escape. It was one thing to trust Snape for his own safety, but to trust him to take care of Draco and battle the Ministry –

"Draco," Harry heard his own voice say softly, "Draco, wake up."

It took a moment for the blond to rouse, and Harry wondered if he could return downstairs and report that Draco was under a sleeping curse and needed to lie in bed, Sleeping Beauty style, until a true love's kiss.

"Go 'way," Draco turned over, refusing to open his eyes.

"They're here for you," Harry tried to sound neutral, but the despair crept into his tone. "The Ministry is arresting you early."

Draco sat up, but Harry kept his eyes on the wall, feeling like a coward but not able to see the pain on his friend's face.

"I thought they would come sooner or later," Draco ran a hand through his flaxen hair. "What does Snape want us to do? Are we escaping?"

"He thinks it's best to comply. But I can't just let you go. It can't have come to this."

Draco swung out of bed and reached for clothes. "I'll go with them. I can't risk fighting against them, not after what we've done. I can't let Mother see – it will kill her."

"I'll take care of her."

Draco finished dressing, and he faced Harry. "Stop it, Potter. We made decisions as men, and we'll act as men when they confront us about what we did. Dumbledore wouldn't sneak around, and you're not going to either. We're both D.A. soldiers. So reach down into that half-blood soul of yours and find some courage now."

Despite his cutting words, Draco's words were so determined that Harry felt relief wash over him.

"I'm going to contact Gringwad and get your eye back," he promised.

"Good man," Draco nodded. "I'm going down but I can't let Mother watch. Can you help me? Keep her from interfering."

Harry nodded, not knowing what to say.

They went out and Draco indicated the hall that lead to Narcissa's room and then he headed towards the main stairs.

Harry's heart hammered in his chest as he tiptoed towards the closed door. His palms were sweaty, and his glasses slipped slightly. He had barely figured out dealing with girls one on one, but full grown women scared him. Teachers didn't count because they were . . . well, teachers. But Narcissa was a striking woman, both beautiful and motherly, and it made Harry extremely nervous because how could one deal with that mixture? He preferred women like Molly Weasley or Miriam who had taken care of him at St. Mungo's.

The idea of going in her room was laughable; he couldn't even bring himself to knock. He would just stand sentry, silent and watchful until Draco was gone and Snape would come up and –

The door opened, and Narcissa, in a dressing gown, came out.

She stopped short at the sight of Harry, and he tried to mask his face but he must have not have done a good job because she went rigid.

"What did you do?" she screamed. "What did you do to my boy?"

"The Ministry," Harry faltered. "They came … early."

She tried to run past him, but he caught her around the waist.

"Wait – wait!" He swung her around to face him, and she went at him.

He was amazed at the strength she had to fight back. She struck him in the throat and slammed him against the wall. Stunned, Harry reached for her arm, and she slapped him so hard his head bounced back against the wall.

"You did this!" she lashed out with her hand again, but this time slashing her nails across his face.

"He didn't want you to see," Harry raised his arm in self-defense, half-sinking to the floor. "He asked me to let him leave like a man."

"He's barely of age!" she slapped him on the other side of his face. "He lost an eye, he lost his father, you aren't happy until he is dead! You cannot do that to him, to me! If I could reach into your chest and pull out your heart, you still wouldn't feel a fraction of the pain I feel. You pull him into danger, and I have to watch. Each time he comes back further injured, and I stand there helpless."

Harry flinched away, but she grabbed a handful of his hair and forced him to meet her gaze.

"Do you know what it's like to watch the person you love most get hurt and you can't do anything?"

"I do," Harry said between numb lips. "I know what it's like to lose everything, over and over again."

Narcissa's eyes blazed, but her lips trembled. She stared at Harry, and he could feel the rage shake her body.

"I'm so sorry," Harry rushed the words out. "I'm sorry Draco chose to fight on our side. I'm sorry he got hurt trying to save Luna from his own father. I'm sorry he wanted to help me bring Snape back. But I let my friends make their own decisions. I never meant to hurt you."

She looked like she might slap him again, but her grip loosened slightly on his hair.

"I never had a mother," Harry went on. "My aunt didn't care about me like that. Then Sirius and Snape – they were like fathers. Mrs. Weasley's the closest, but she has so many children. I don't know what it's like to have a mother worry about me so I didn't –" unexpected, his voice broke.

She released his hair and he slid down the wall to sit on the floor. She stood over him, furious and dangerous, and he could only confess,

"I'm so sorry, Narcissa. I will do everything I can to get him free."

The pain on his face was starting to throb, the nail marks hot and itchy under the places where she had slapped and scratched.

"You were sent here to keep me out of the way," she tightened his hands into fists. "You noble men and your god complexes. I hate you all so much. I would murder you and Snape if I thought it would bring my baby home. And you wonder why I can't be calm while you let my child be taken. Were you calm when you tried to get Snape back?"

Harry shook his head, wincing at the pain.

"But you dismiss my pain as female hysteria."

"No, pain goes beyond being male or female," Harry said, trying to keep his hands from rubbing his throbbing face. "We become ruthless when our loved ones are threatened."

She looked down the hall, towards the stairs. "Don't move."

She moved, but he dismissed the thought of trying to stop her. Yet, instead of going to the stairs, she went to the window that overlooked the front of the manor. Then she came back.

"They're gone. He left without saying goodbye. I would gladly tear your face off for this."

Harry just looked at the ground.

She reached down and took his arm, and he stood up obligingly. They were about the same height and he knew he was heavier with the muscle he had gained in the past months, but he still cringed away from her.

"Be still," she took his chin and angled his face from one side to another, inspecting the damage. "You're all marked up."

"I won't tell Snape."

"I don't care who you tell," but she took his hand and led him into the bathroom off her room. She got him to sit in the lone chair and dampened a cloth at the sink.

He reached for it, but she batted his hand away and pressed the cloth over the scratches she had left. The cold felt so good; he closed his eyes as she moved to the other side.

"You're still in pajamas, running around without shoes," she said as she damped the cloth again. "And you only got a few hours of sleep. You'll be running a fever soon."

"I'm healthy."

"Hush." She moved his hand to hold the cloth over his own face. "Press down and just breathe."

"Narcissa –"

"I don't want to hear any more from you until you're cleaned up."

A moment later, she had another cloth smeared with healing potion, and she pressed it over his face. The pain ebbed away as the scratches healed.

Snape stood in the doorway, watching both of them for a moment. "Are you all right?" he asked, seemingly addressing both of them at the same time.

"We're fine," Harry said before Narcissa could speak. "We just had some things we needed to work out."

Snape didn't look fully convinced but he didn't offer further comments either; he put a hand out towards Narcissa. "We should speak downstairs."

Harry didn't respond. He felt tired, worn down, and all he wanted to do was to go and sit by himself for a while.

He went to his room, laid down on the bed, and stared up at the ceiling looking at the rays of dawn upon the white plaster. He felt raw inside, achy, and he didn't know what to do to feel better. He still had magic, incredible magic coursing through his body, begging for release, begging for a chance to show itself and prove itself to be everything that he could be.

But he didn't give in to the magic; instead he willed himself to be still and calm. He closed his eyes and pushed his conscience slowly in to the darkness as sleep began to creep up on him. It was something he had practiced before back in the fall, during those long nights of training when his body ached and hurt and he confronted the pain by forcing himself to fall asleep.

It was midmorning when he woke up.

The feeling of despair had gone away, and he sat up with a resolution and quiet determination. A tray of warm food was waiting for him on the other bed, Draco's bed, and he ate it as he got dressed. Frost had cracked over the windows, so he put on layers of clothing. The last thing he did before leaving the room was to take the gray, shiny card and stick it deep within his trousers pocket. He went downstairs planning to tell Snape that he was going flying for a while.

He didn't see anyone about so he looked into the study and the library first. Snape wasn't there so Harry headed towards the family room, planning to call out to a house elf if he couldn't find the man quickly. He had just reached the edge of the open door when he heard noises.

They were the same kind of noises students made at Hogwarts in empty corners and corridors before teachers or prefects could catch them. The awkward, blush-inducing noises that Harry had heard from older students, usually causing a knowing smile to creep on his face as he changed direction to give the occupied students a little bit of privacy and save himself from any awkward conversation.

As he peeked in to the family room, his fears were confirmed. On the desk, his punishment desk, still standing in the middle of the family room in all its awkward obviousness, Narcissa was sitting. Standing in between her open knees was Snape with his hands around her waist. Her hands were gripping his shoulders, and they were kissing – well, the only polite way that Harry could think to put it – passionately.

She had one foot hooked around the back of his knee, the hem of her dress pulling against her shin and his black trousers. She kept pulling him closer and closer, and the wet noises they made turned Harry's face a bright, heated red. She moved, drawing her face down into his neck, and she must have bitten him, because Snape made a low noise between pain and pleasure.

Almost automatically, Harry began to back up as quietly as he could, barely lifting his shoes so they wouldn't clack or clatter on the floor as he tiptoed away. He went outside, easing the door shut and then ducking down so he wouldn't be seen from the windows as he headed for the woods.

It was all so embarrassing and disgusting at the same time. Snape had said before that he preferred feminine women with charms, and Harry knew in the past Snape had been in love with at least one woman, but to see him kissing another woman and Draco's mother of all people was too upsetting for words or really even coherent thought.

The thought that Snape would ever want to kiss a woman seemed absurd. Yes – he, Harry, had kissed girls before and enjoyed it, and it was only natural that he would continue to want to kiss girls in the future, but that seemed ridiculous for someone like Snape. Snape was about justice and teaching and training sessions and stern punishments and an endless lecturing that went on and on and the meticulous planning and watching Harry's every move until the point that Harry thought he must break free or scream. Snape was about serious matters. Snape should not be about kissing a woman.

Intellectually, Harry knew his thoughts were absurd, but that didn't make them any less real for him. He remembered the look on Ron's face when Ron's parents had kissed once, and though at the time Harry had thought it sweet that Mr. and Mrs. Weasley were still in love, now he understood how Ron must have felt about it.

Going back into the manor was ridiculous. Even if he someday decided to enter it again, Harry was sure that the family room would need to be boarded off, burned to the ground, and then erased from memory for him to continue to live at Snapdragon Manor. Though the name of it sounded so nice and welcoming, the family room had witnessed one too many humiliating experiences for it to continue to exist.

To keep himself from thinking about the implications of the kissing, Harry started into the woods. He alternated between jogging and fast walking until he reached the top of the hill where Snape had found him last summer. It took just under an hour as he stopped several times and considered going back, but then embarrassment would hit and he continued on.

At the top of the hill, where he had sat winded by the old tree, Harry stepped off the path and into the woods. Since he couldn't leave the property without setting off the alarms and apparently the entire ministry of magic and since no one else could come onto the property without doing the same thing, he would have to navigate it so he would be standing on the property and Gringwad could Apparate just outside of the property. It would take some careful planning, but Harry prided himself on his recent developments of careful planning. He had lived one day with avoiding three versions of himself; he could manage a meet-up without setting off alarms.

His shoes crunched on ice and dead leaves, and he felt the tingle of magic as he got closer and closer to the edge of the property. For a second, he saw a shimmer of gold light like a wall just ahead, no more than five feet in front of him, and he took three more steps and then removed the card from his pocket.

He held the card out in front of him, looking directly at it, and announced loudly, "I call on Gringwad. I mean, I, Harry Potter, call on Gringwad for help, um, sort of. Please come but appear in front of me, not behind me, or we'll both get in trouble."

A slight pop sounded behind him and Harry's heart leapt into his throat as he waited for the alarms to scream. But that must have been a branch falling because a second later Gringwad Apparated in front of him, snarling and glaring at the woods.

"What is this? You stupid boy, what else have you done? I can't get a whole minute to myself without you bothering me. You're not getting the money back."

"I don't want the money. I need another favor."

Gringwad smiled dangerously. "I don't give out favors. I make deals. What deal can you make?"

Draco was right - the man was a gambler alright.

"This is what I need. My friend was taken by the Ministry, and I want to replace his eye before we go to trial."

"That blighter?" Gringwad raised his eyebrows. "Not sure why you care about him, but if it's just his eye, that's easy. I thought you would try to break him out."

"We'd have to go on the run again. The trial is in four days, my trial, too, actually. All of us are on trial. I want Draco to have both eyes by then."

"The magic is tricky but you have enough power to restore sight to a dozen blind men. Why did you call me?"

"I can do it from here?"

"No," Gringwad smiled dangerously, "you have to be in the presence of the person you want to heal. Oh, I see. You're staying here like a good little puppy. Such a shame – I like you defiant. It's much more fun that way."

"But you can do it?"

Gringwad nodded.

"I can get you more money –"

"I don't need money. I have plenty of it."

Harry blanched. "But . . . the money I stole from the bank. You said –"

"I wanted to see what lengths you would go to arrange a deal. I expected you to be caught and locked up before you ever got it, but you surpassed my expectations. I like it. I like when desperation drives us to do extraordinary things. It separates the average from the spectacular, and you, my boy, are the latter."

Harry stepped back, slightly unnerved. "Well, if it's not money, then what? My firstborn child? Because that turned out to be Snape's soul."

"No, I want you, the most powerful wizard on earth right now. I want you to sign on to be my apprentice."

Harry's mouth dropped open.


End file.

Harry Potter, Friendship, Hurt-Comfort