Stay Free

Chapter 4: The Truth is Told

Harry was half-asleep in front of the television when Snape arrived back at Privet Drive, a faint popping noise announcing his presence. Harry jerked awake at the sound, rubbing his eyes.

"Potter."

"What?"

"Watch the attitude, Potter."

Harry sighed. "What, sir?"

"Turn that...thing off."

Harry reached for the remote control, clicked the off button, and turned back to his teacher, who was now taking a seat across from Harry. "What is it?"

"Dumbledore wishes for me to...er...talk to you about something. Something you probably should have known awhile ago."

"What is it?" Harry repeated, his mind racing. What could Dumbledore have bothered not to tell him? Again?

Harry had never seen Snape so uncomfortable. He was fidgeting with his hands, tapping his feet, and muttering under his breath.

"It's about..." Snape looked to be searching for the right word. "Your parents. And more specifically, your mother. Do you know much about Lily, Potter?"

Harry thought back to what people had told him about his parents. Truth be told, it wasn't much...

"Um...Her maiden name was Evans, she had red hair and green eyes, Muggle-born, Head Girl...Mr. Ollivander told me that her wand was good for charm work...She hated my dad until their seventh year..."

"You don't know much, do you." It wasn't a question. "Potter, I find it terribly pathetic that I know more about your mother than you do. In fact, I believe I knew Lily better than her own sister."

"You were friends?" Harry blurted out. "But--I thought--"

"We were friends," said Snape quietly.

Harry nodded, his stomach squirming. Sirius had never told him this. "Yeah. So, what was it Dumbledore wanted you to tell me?"

Again, Snape looked incredibly uncomfortable, but he began to speak.

"It would make more sense if you got the background...Well, you know I joined the Death Eaters. It all started with Lucius Malfoy; he was four years ahead of me. He had been my mentor while I was at Hogwarts, as well as a good friend. When he was in his seventh year, he had hinted the thought of joining the Dark Lord to me. The Malfoy family has always been involved in the Dark Arts, and it was natural that he would join this new Dark Lord who was slowly gaining power. I was only thirteen at the time, but I'd always been fascinated by the Dark Arts. I told him I was eager to join, but after he inspected my...skills, Lucius told me I was much too young, and that I should wait a couple of years. He came to visit his cousin in my sixth year, and suggested the idea to me again. I accepted.

"So, I spent my Christmas holidays at Malfoy Manor. I wasn't that surprised to see the other Slytherins in my year and above there as well; Lucius had obviously spoken to others. Avery, Lestrange, Macnair, Rosier, and Dolohov...I met the Dark Lord that night.

"He was...surprised that so many people had agreed to become his loyal servants...Made us all go under Veritaserum to be sure we weren't spies...He was beginning to reach his height of power then, and he didn't trust anybody. I, of course, was eager; Power, safety, rewards--all was offered to me. All I had to do was show my left forearm."

"How do you get the Dark Mark?" Harry asked after Snape had remained silent for a couple of moments.

"The Dark Lord touches your left forearm, and casts the Morsmorde Curse. Your flesh burns and bleeds, until the Mark is there to remain forever."

Harry shuddered. Snape gave a twisted smile.

"No, Potter, it's not something I would care to repeat...I wish I hadn't been so foolish." Snape stared at his left forearm. "But after Christmas, I...had friends. From your invasion of my privacy last year, you saw how I was treated at Hogwarts. But that changed after I got the Dark Mark...The Slytherins in my year accepted me as one of their own. None of the teachers found it odd that we would never roll up our sleeves, or disappear at least once a week. I suppose they just pretended not to notice...

"I lived at Malfoy Manor during the summer before my seventh year. You see, my father was not the most...ah...pleasant person to deal with. Any money he didn't lose in gambling went straight to whiskey. My mother, of course, didn't agree much with this...He took care of that problem shortly after I turned fourteen. He died two years later."

Harry remembered Snape's memories that he had received the previous year during Occlumency lessons...A man yelling at a woman, presumably Snape's parents, while the child cried in the corner...

"It was that summer that I went on a...killing spree."

"Killing spree?" Harry repeated. His stomach twisted at the thought.

"In the old days, the Dark Lord would send his Death Eaters to a certain house and just have them kill everyone in it, and then blow up the house. Mostly, it was on Muggle-borns, as wards often protected wizarding houses...But I could get past these wards, figure out the puzzle in which the spells had to performed. My logic, potion-making, and interrogating skills were one of the main reasons the Dark Lord chose to keep me alive. I had my own lab in the dungeons of Hogwarts, because I was so advanced in Potions. The old Potions Master didn't mind if I used his ingredients, and didn't even notice when I used all his boomslang skin for all the batches of Polyjuice Potion I made."

Harry had the feeling Snape didn't want to talk about the "killing spree", but he asked about it anyway.

"Who did you...er, kill?"

"It wasn't me," Snape snapped, his dark eyes flashing. "It was Antonin Dolohov. A Muggle family." His thin face paled even more than usual.

"What's it like to use the Dark Arts?" asked Harry, hoping he didn't sound too meddlesome.

"It's..." Snape pondered for a moment. "Exciting. Somewhat gratifying. Certainly an adrenaline rush. To be able to force pain on someone with a Latin word and a wave of a wand...You feel so powerful after using Dark Magic...yet so full of regret..."

Harry squirmed inwardly. He, too, had used Dark Magic; the Cruciatus Curse on Bellatrix Lestrange after Sirius had died. He had felt powerful...but so guilty...

"During my seventh year, myself and a couple of other Slytherins were always gone during supper once a week, to meet with our fellow Death Eaters. We would sneak to Hogsmeade, and Apparate away to whatever location made our Marks burn. Your mother, of course, noticed that something was wrong. I refused to tell her what I had done to myself...After all, she was a Muggle-born, and she could be on the Dark Lord's hit list or Lucius's twisted game of Kill the Muggle. I didn't want her to die knowing that I had helped her murderer."

"Kill the Muggle?"

Snape closed his eyes, as though he was in serious pain. Harry started to take the question back, but the older man was answering before he got the words out.

"You find a Muggle off the street, and wipe their memory. They were then dragged to a secluded area, and subjected to rape, torture, and any other foul idea that someone could come up with." Snape opened his eyes. For the first time, he looked vulnerable. Harry realized that it was guilt flashing in the other wizard's eyes. "The game was based on a point system. How long you could keep them screaming, how much blood was spilled, if they managed to orgasm, how long it took for them to die...You don't want to know whether or not I made first place in this game, Potter."

"Didn't you turn spy?" Harry asked curiously, remembering a memory in Dumbledore's Pensieve as he tried to shake off the disturbing imagery that Snape had just presented.

"Yes," Snape said, nodding. "I had been a Death Eater for about three or four years when I started getting sick of it. All the death, the blood, the burning, the rape...At first, it may have seemed exciting and dangerous--even pleasurable--but by then it had made me sick to my stomach. And something else made me turn to Dumbledore..."

Snape's voice trailed off, and his jaw tightened.

"It is what Dumbledore wanted me to tell you," he said softly, clearing his throat. "In our sixth year, Lily and I had become closer friends...Your father and Black weren't very happy with that, not at all. Of course, the Slytherins thought it was some genius plot to kill another Muggle-born, and didn't really care." He swallowed awkwardly. "We graduated in 1977, and James and Lily were married that summer. I was invited, but I didn't go...I had a Muggle family to kill..."

Harry winced. Snape had said it so casually, like he had gone to the store to buy some milk and bread, rather than murder.

"Lily invited me over for dinner in...1978, I believe it was," Snape continued. "I accepted, of course, because I hadn't seen her since we left Hogwarts. Thankfully, James wasn't around; he was talking with Dumbledore that night."

Snape looked to be squirming in his seat, as though he really didn't want to say the next sentence. Harry motioned for him to go on, and mentally prepared himself for what the other wizard was going to say.

"That night I...we...your mother and I...Oh, for Merlin's sake, Albus!" Snape squeezed his eyes shut, let out a long sigh, and said, "Lily and I...we...erm...slepttogetherthatnight," he finished rapidly.

"Pardon?"

"Honestly, Potter, do I have to spell it out for you?" Snape snapped. "We shagged."

Harry choked. "You," he gasped, "had sex...with my mum?"

"Yes," said Snape quietly. A faint flush was rising in his cheeks. "It wasn't the first time, either."

Harry felt like his throat was closing up. How come no one had ever told him that Snape and his mother had had some sort of relationship?

"No. No way." Harry's voice was trembling with suppressed rage. It couldn't be true. It couldn't be true. It was just wrong on so many levels. "You're lying. My mum wouldn't do that...she loved my dad..."

"I assure you, I am not lying. As much as I disliked your father, I would not lie about something of this magnitude."

Snape's voice was so calm, so very Snape-like, but Harry was boiling with rage. How dare Snape make up a story like this, how dare he think that he could have had a relationship with Lily--

The glass in a picture of Dudley riding his first bike shattered.

"What is it, Potter? You don't like the fact that I've had sex with your mother?"

A plate that Aunt Petunia kept on the mantelpiece smashed to the floor.

"Don't like it that I managed to get to her before your father did?"

A window broke loudly, sending pieces of glass across the floor. Harry bit back a snarl, his insides shrivelling with embarrassment. He hadn't done this kind of magic for three years.

"You don't, do you? And you can't even control your own magic. Breaking things because the words Severus Snape shagged your mother reach your ears and you can't take it."

Harry jumped up, whipping out his wand. He had a curse on the tip of his tongue when Snape's hand swung up and ripped the wand out of his hand. Harry's breath caught in his throat. Shit. He was in trouble now.

"Don't do anything you'll regret later, Potter," said Snape harshly, shoving the wand back into Harry's outstretched hand. He took it, stunned. "I can, and will, hurt you."

Harry shoved his wand into the waistband of his jeans. Snape stared at him, his unblinking gaze burning holes.

Thankfully, the phone ringing broke the upcoming silence. Harry made a move to go answer it, but Snape grabbed his shoulder and stopped him. Harry turned to the side automatically at the touch, and Snape dropped his hand.

"Hello?" Dudley's voice drifted in from the kitchen. There was a short pause, and then, "Yes, Harry's here. May I ask who's calling?...Mhmm...All right, I'll go get Harry."

"I heard you, Dudley," Harry called hastily before Dudley could come into the living room. He looked back at Snape, swallowing nervously. "I hope telephones are safe?"

"Muggle invention," Snape snorted. "No one ever thinks to check them. Go ahead."

Harry sped into the kitchen past his cousin, grabbed the telephone out of his hand, and held it to his ear. "Hello?" he said hesitantly.

"Mr. Potter?" said a crisp voice.

"Er...yes, that would be me," Harry said slowly. "Sorry to be rude, but do I know you? I don't recognize your voice."

There was laughter on the other line. "Oh, you probably forgot me. My name's Amelia Bones. I was an interrogator at your hearing last summer, and at the reading of Sirius's will. I'm Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement."

"Oh!" Harry exclaimed. He remembered Madam Bones; a broad witch with short grey hair and a booming voice. She was the aunt of Susan Bones, a Hufflepuff in Harry's year. "Er, hello."

"Yes, well, sorry if I've interrupted anything, but I'm calling on business," Madam Bones said. "I'm sure you remember that Sirius left a document of the real story of Peter Pettigrew and that whole mess...Well, I've finally convinced the Ministry to bring that to court. Headmaster Dumbledore, I believe, will be leading in Sirius's defence." There was the slight sound of papers shuffling. "You were listed as one of the witnesses, and we're hoping that you will answer the Ministry's questions."

"Er..." was all Harry could say. She was trying to prove that Sirius was innocent? Was this all some bad joke? Maybe he should check with Snape first... "Do you mind if I talk to someone real quick?"

"Of course not," Madam Bones said immediately. "I'll stay on the line."

"Just a minute," Harry said, and put the phone down onto the counter. He walked back into the living room, sighed with relief that Snape was still there, and said, "Someone from the Ministry is trying to prove that Sirius was innocent and they want me to take the stand as a witness."

Snape raised an eyebrow from beneath his greasy hair. "And you are telling me because..."

"Because I want to be sure it's not some idiot pulling a trick on me," Harry finished. "Or have it end up something that I will regret."

"Who is it on the...phone?"

"Amelia Bones."

Snape's eyes glittered. "I remember her. She was in my year. Head of Magical Law Enforcement now, correct?"

"Yes," Harry said impatiently. "Now, am I allowed to?"

"Why are you asking me?" Snape sneered. "I'm not in charge of you. Lupin is."

"Lupin isn't here at the moment," Harry retorted. "But you are, you're an adult, you're in the Order, and Dumbledore trusts you. At the moment, you're all right in my book. Now, would you please tell me if I can talk on the phone?"

Snape remained silent for a moment, then said, "Yes."

Harry nodded his head, turned on his heel, and returned to the kitchen. Picking up the phone, he cleared his throat before saying, "Hello, Madam Bones. Sorry for the wait. Now, when is the trial?"

"Oh, probably the beginning of August," Madam Bones answered. "I still need to gather more evidence with Dumbledore, and contact all the other witnesses. Could you be of any help?"

"Er...I suppose so," Harry replied, a bubble of excitement appearing in his stomach. "Who are the other witnesses?"

"Let's see...We have you, Ron Weasley, Hermione Granger, Remus Lupin, Albus Dumbledore, Nymphadora Tonks, Minerva McGonagall, Rubeus Hagrid, and a few others who wish to remain unnamed."

"Can you tell me who the others are?" Harry asked hopefully.

"Sorry, Mr. Potter, I can't," Madam Bones said with a light laugh. "These people can only be revealed at the trial."

"I thought so," Harry said wistfully.

"Well, are you willing to help?"

"Of course. Anything to clear Sirius's name."

"Excellent. I now know why Dumbledore speaks so highly of you...Would you mind contacting Remus Lupin? I can't seem to find his address anywhere, but considering he's your guardian now you should have no trouble...And I believe I can contact anyone else."

"Sure," Harry said quickly. "My owl can find him--"

"I wouldn't suggest that, Mr. Potter," Madam Bones said in a low voice. "Although most of my colleagues here at the Ministry still refuse to believe that Voldemort is back, I know he is. I don't want your owl to get damaged in any way."

"A-All right," Harry stammered. "I have someone from the school visiting me now, so I can just ask him to send the message to Lupin."

"Wonderful," said Madam Bones happily. It was really quite amazing how she could change the tone of her voice that quickly, Harry mused. "Well, I must be going now. Too much paperwork to keep chit-chatting. I hope the rest of your summer is more pleasant that last year, and I shall contact you again to let you know of the trial date."

"Goodbye," Harry said, and there was a faint click on the other line. He untangled himself from the cord (he hadn't realized he had been pacing) and placed the phone back on the wall.

He stood in the kitchen for a moment, rubbing the space between his eyebrows. His mother had been with Snape, and Harry didn't like it. But despite his outright disgust at the thought, he wanted to hear the rest...No one had ever told him about his mother before, and while Snape wasn't the type to tell stories, he was still telling. And that was all right with Harry.

Mustering up courage, Harry marched back into the living room. Snape was sitting on the couch, his legs propped up on the coffee table.

"Please continue, sir," said Harry with great difficulty. His hands were clamped so tight, his fingernails were making marks in his palms. He was also going to break a molar with his teeth grinding.

Snape studied him shrewdly, but gestured for Harry to take a seat. He did so, sitting very stiffly. Snape started up again.

"That night was the only time she cheated on James...We had slept together previously. We...had a relationship that was intimate. It started in our sixth year--we were both curious about sex, and wanted to experience it with a friend first...And in our last year, whenever she was having trouble with James..." Snape shrugged. "They broke up and got back together at least twice... and I was always there as a pity fuck."

He spat out the last words very bitterly.

"But the problem was...Lily got pregnant."

It felt as though an iron fist had been shoved into Harry's stomach. No, no, this was too much...It was bad enough that Snape had been shagging his mother, but no, this was not happening...

"That wasn't...me, was it?" he managed to say, his hands shaking violently. Merlin, could Snape be his father? No, everyone said he looked like James, right? He couldn't be Snape's son, right? "You aren't--"

Snape gave a hollow laugh. "No, Potter, you are definitely your father's son. The boy that Lily gave birth to was Mark Evans."

Harry stared. "Hold on a minute..." he said slowly, turning over the thoughts in his head. "That doesn't make one bit of sense. If Mark Evans was born a year before me, then how come he's eleven right now?"

"Vita della conserva a tempo," said Snape in a low voice. "An advanced Preservation Charm. A Italian scientist thought it up. It's an incredibly difficult charm, and certainly Dark Magic. Your mother performed it. She always was good at Charms..."

"Mum did Dark Magic?" Harry whispered. "But--"

"Not all Dark Magic is bad, Potter. How do you think Healers stop all the blood in your body so they can perform the spells to heal?" Snape paused. "Well, this one was actually quite bad, really. Time isn't supposed to be changed, and preserving things in time isn't exactly legal either." He stopped talking again. Harry wondered if he'd ever told anyone else about it. "She put charms on her body to hide her obviously pregnant belly, and ignored James's pleas to take a pregnancy test when he saw how much she was throwing up. Called it the flu.

"But she managed to give birth to Mark without anyone noticing. Luckily, James was on a mission for the Order the last week of her pregnancy, so he didn't know she gave birth. I was there, to be sure nothing went wrong...Then Mark was frozen in time, to be discovered by someone who worked in a Muggle orphanage five years later."

"What happened next?" Harry asked, his mind overflowing with all this new information. This was awful. This was too much.

"Well, Lily got pregnant again...but this time it was by your father. And that baby was you." Snape looked more relaxed as he spoke. "A couple of months later, the prophecy was made."

"You know about the prophecy?" Harry blurted out. "But--I thought that only--"

"You, Dumbledore, and I are the only ones who know the entire thing," Snape interrupted. "You see, I was the eavesdropper that overheard Trelawney...I was terrified when I heard it. At first, I thought that it was referring to Mark, as he was born in July as well. So, I went to the Dark Lord and said, obviously lying, that I had only heard the first part; where a boy born in July whose parents who had escaped his wrath three times would be able to defeat him. It was shortly after that I turned myself in to Dumbledore. I knew that whether the prophecy was for you or Mark, Lily would be dead.

"I panicked and told him everything: Lucius encouraging me to join them, all the Muggle and Wizarding families I had killed, how Lily had given birth to my child, the prophecy I had overheard...

"But Dumbledore asked me to turn spy. I gratefully accepted, because it would mean that I wouldn't go to Azkaban. He then told me that the prophecy was referring to either you, or Neville Longbottom...His parents had been cursed into insanity just days ago by then.

"Dumbledore also offered me a position at Hogwarts as the Potions Master, so I would be safe from any Death Eaters who realized I was not true to the Dark Lord. I, however, wanted Defence Against the Dark Arts, as I'm sure you know. You see, Potter, I have faced the Dark Arts, used them, and had them used on me. I could teach students about them better than the real Mad-Eye Moody. But Dumbledore said no. He believed that if I taught a subject that went against what I had been influenced by, I would become a true Dark wizard. I took the job of a Potions Master, and have been turned down the Defence job ever since."

"Let me get this straight," Harry declared, holding up his hand. "You and my mother had a...relationship. A relationship that was...intimate." His upper lip curled back at the thought. "One of those...erm...moments of intimacy made Mark Evans, who was frozen in time. You became spy for Dumbledore after hearing the prophecy, because you thought it referred to your son. You want the Defence job because you think you can teach us better, as you're experienced in the Dark Arts."

Snape nodded after each sentence.

"Does anyone else know?" Harry asked, his throat twisting into knots. Why hadn't anyone bothered to tell him about this earlier? He was going to vomit...

"No," Snape said quietly, "if you're referring to Mark Evans. Dumbledore was the only person I told, and he has kept my secret. People who are in the Order know of my double-agent job, yes, but that is all. But nearly the entire wizarding world could find out about my previous life as a Death Eater; it's in all the old reports of trials. I was found as a Death Eater shortly after I confessed to the Headmaster, but he gave evidence of my loyalty to him. They believed Dumbledore, and I did not go to Azkaban for life."

"Have you ever been inside Azkaban?" inquired Harry curiously.

"Once." Snape's hands shook. He cast his eyes downward, abruptly changing the subject. "I assume you will be presenting evidence at Black's trail?" Harry nodded. "Pity it had to happen after his death."

Harry drew his hands into fists, knowing that Snape was just trying to make him mad before their Occlumency lesson. "Yes, it is, isn't it?" he managed to say through clenched teeth. "Are you planning on giving evidence? You are, after all, a Death Eater. You've probably worked with Wormtail, and you knew Sirius."

"I would prefer the wizarding world not know of my secret job for Dumbledore, Potter," Snape said through equally clenched teeth. "I cannot offer evidence of Pettigrew's betrayal."

Harry shrugged. "I can."

"The Ministry will not approve of three schoolchildren and a werewolf who has already been to a disciplinary hearing in front of the Wizengamot," Snape snapped. "Nor an old man who they all assume has gone mad. Or a young Auror who has a tendency to break anything she's near."

"What do you mean, Lupin's been to a disciplinary hearing?" Harry blurted out.

Another twisted smile set itself upon Snape's thin lips. "Ah, yes. I thought you had forgotten. Do you remember that amusing trick your godfather played on me?"

"Yes, yes," Harry said with little patience. "Sirius told you to poke the knot in the Whomping Willow so you would know where Lupin went every month. But then my dad saved you from being bitten."

"And the Ministry heard of this," Snape continued, his eyes flashing, "and decided try to expel Lupin. However, Dumbledore convinced them that I had gone to the Whomping Willow under my own free will, so Lupin was not expelled, did not have his wand snapped, and did not go to Azkaban. However, it is still in the court records."

"I'm in there, too," Harry said defiantly. "But the wizarding world still believes me--"

"What, your article in The Quibbler?" Snape cut in. "Though many people read that, Potter, it doesn't mean they fully believe you."

"I don't want to discuss this anymore," Harry said indigently. "Now, are we going to do the fucking Occlumency lesson, or are we going to skip a day?"

"Well, what do you plan on doing?" Snape asked, a nasty smile on his face. "And watch the language, Potter."

"Get out of here," Harry snarled, took out his wand, and pointed it between Snape's eyes before he realized what he was doing. He slowly stood up, towering over the sitting older wizard.

A small bead of sweat trickled down the side of Snape's face. "What are you going to do, Potter?" he breathed. "Any curses or hexes wouldn't be small magic...and you wouldn't want to go to another hearing for your expulsion, would you?"

Slowly, his hands quavering with the effort, Harry returned his wand back to his pocket. He sat back down, legs bouncing. He steadied them with his hands, gripping his kneecaps.

"Good, Potter," Snape said with a satisfied expression. "You have learned to control your anger. It is essential to becoming a Occlumens, to be able to control."

"And this is good?" asked Harry. "I do things much better when I've got strong emotions."

"You won't be able to block the Dark Lord out of your mind if you've got 'strong emotions'," Snape answered, holding up his fingers in quotation marks as he said "strong emotions". "Nor will you be able to control your urges to use Unforgivable Curses."

"Did Bellatrix tell you?" Harry inquired quietly.

"Yes," Snape said softly. "She was increasingly surprised that you had been able to cause her pain...Yet the Dark Lord was delighted. Potter, the wizarding world's hero, had used an illegal Dark curse...It would make it all the more easier to convince you to join him."

"I thought he just wanted to kill me," Harry said slowly. "Why would he bother trying to make me a Death Eater?"

"Use your logic, Potter," said Snape curtly. "Wouldn't it be easier for him to kill you once you were on his side, therefore more trusting?"

"I could fake it," Harry said immediately. "I'll let him enter my mind or something this year, and--and then I could kill him when he had his back turned--"

But Snape was shaking his head. "You are not ready to kill the Dark Lord, Potter. You have not mastered Occlumency yet, a skill greatly needed if you are to be lying as much as I do. A few good curses will hardly damage him; he's too powerful. You're simply not old enough, or as strong as you'll need to be."

"You sound like Dumbledore," Harry muttered. "'Too young.' I can't believe he never bothered to tell me about the prophecy until last year."

"I think Albus often forgets that you are not just the Boy-Who-Lived," said Snape, his eyes on the window. "At the moment, he is thinking of you as the sole person who can destroy the Dark Lord, and not a nearly sixteen-year-old boy who has seen more death than those twice his age. No, that's not all how he always thinks of you," he added at the look on Harry's face. "But time is closing in. The Dark Lord is getting more and more powerful, and his followers are growing in numbers. You have only two more years of school to complete. In that time period, Dumbledore expects you to kill him once and for all."

Harry felt as though he had been pushed down a flight of stairs. He was aching all over in the thought of killing Voldemort, his head was spinning, and he felt like he was going to vomit.

"Right," Harry croaked. He placed a hand over his stomach, pushing in gently. Don't throw up don't throw up. "Can you tell Lupin about the trial for me? Madam Bones couldn't find where he lived, so I'm guessing he's still at Grimmauld Place."

"Yes, he is. I'll let him know tonight at the meeting."

"Thank you."

Snape jerked his head in a nod. "No Occlumency today. The Dark Lord is planning on attacking a Muggle family in London, and I don't think you wish to view that in your dreams tonight."

"Does Dumbledore know?"

"Yes, but he cannot do anything about it. If Aurors showed up, then the Dark Lord would immediately know that someone was double-crossing him. I am the only source that gives Dumbledore the information he needs."

"So, in other words, we can't afford for you to die," Harry said, feeling his muscles tensing, "but it's fine for a defenceless Muggle family to be murdered in your place."

"That's not how it works, Potter," Snape said, and there was the satisfied expression again. "Now, I must be going. Is there anything you need from Grimmauld Place?"

"No," Harry said, a little more forcefully than he meant to.

"Very well. Don't--"

"--leave the house," Harry finished gloomily, and Snape Disapparated.

* * *

The rest of July flew past Harry before he could realize it was gone. His birthday had come and gone, with presents delivered by Remus Lupin the morning of the 31st of July. They included a pair of dragon leather boots from Bill, a book about Seekers from Charlie, a new eagle-feather quill from Ginny, the usual sweater and fudge from Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, at least ten books of curses and hexes from Hermione and Ron, more photographs of his parents and Sirius from Hagrid and Lupin, pictures of a Crumple-Horned Snorkacks from Luna Lovegood (she and her father had gone to Sweden to look for them, and had proved their existence), and various other things from Harry's fellow students at school.

But what really surprised Harry was a letter of apology from Dumbledore. The Headmaster had written about how he should have told Harry about the prophecy earlier, and that could have saved Sirius's life. Dumbledore had also said that he realized he was treating Harry only as the person who could defeat Voldemort, and not as just plain Harry. And, he had written the letter because, "It was brought to my attention when a staff member mentioned how awful I was treating you, Harry. I'm sorry I didn't think of my actions earlier."

Mark Evans visited frequently, usually to ask Harry questions about the wizarding world. Snape would leave the room without saying anything, only to return when Mark had gone back home. Harry never inquired about this, and Snape never answered.

The Occlumency lessons were going well, at least in Harry's opinion. He was still getting the urge to murder Snape during the lessons, but Harry figured it was just a natural thing to want to hurt the Potions Master who everybody hated. He could now throw Snape off without his wand, though it took a lot out of him. Worse, he had to watch the murders of the helpless victims of Lord Voldemort's hatred towards Muggles while he slept. However, his scar did not hurt in the morning afterwards, which meant that Voldemort didn't know Harry was in his mind.

"Good, Potter," Snape said one day in August. He was standing against Aunt Petunia's garden, tapping his wand against his fingers lazily as Harry picked himself up off the ground. Not only was Snape giving him Occlumency lessons, but duelling as well. He had looked very surprised when Harry asked if he could try out some of his new curses on the Potions Master, but the look quickly disappeared from his face as he agreed.

"You're getting better," Snape continued. Harry noticed with satisfaction that the man's legs were still trembling from the Jelly-Legs Curse. "But you still depend on your Stunning. Though it is a good and helpful spell, it is easy to deflect."

Harry nodded. "Okay."

Snape surveyed him in silence, and then said, "Black's trial is tomorrow, isn't it?"

"Yes," Harry said, his fingers automatically tightening on his wand. "Lupin is bringing me to headquarters tonight."

"Do you plan to answer all of the Ministry's questions?" Snape inquired.

"Yes," Harry repeated. "Anything to prove that Sirius was innocent."

Snape's eyes glittered. "You'll be going under Veritaserum."

"I am?" Harry blurted out. "But--"

"But nothing, Potter," Snape cut in. "Truth Potions are hardly used during trials, but because the matter of Sirius Black's innocence is so important, the Ministry feels that they should take...precautions."

"Wonderful," Harry muttered. "With my luck, I'll end up spilling everything about the Order."

"No," Snape said quietly, "you won't. There are certain ways to cheat Veritaserum."

"How?" Harry asked eagerly. "I'll need to know this--what if they ask me something about Grimmauld Place?"

"The secret to Veritaserum," Snape continued, as if he hadn't heard Harry, "is to find loopholes in the question. For example, if they ask where you were during the second half of your summer before your fifth year--"

"I could say I was visiting Sirius," Harry interrupted.

"Exactly," Snape said, nodding. "And if they inquire who else was there, you can say old friends of his. You see, Potter, there isn't a Potion that forces the truth out of you. I believe that most of the effects of Veritaserum is up here." He tapped his greasy temple with a forefinger. "You believe that it makes you tell the truth, so you say more than you should have. It's very simple."

"Do you know how much of it they're going to make me drink?" Harry asked tensely. "It's just three drops, right?"

"Most likely."

"Wonderful."