Stay Free

Chapter 14: New Knowledge

"Was somebody here last night?" asked Malfoy from the other bed as the two of them ate breakfast. They were hidden from any other people in the room by the curtains drawn around their beds.

Harry looked at him, biting into an apple. As he chewed, he nodded. "I could have sworn I heard my Head of House's voice," Malfoy continued.

"Yeah, Snape was here," Harry said, eagerly biting into the apple again. He didn't want to talk about the previous night, and having food in your mouth meant that you didn't have to speak. (At least in polite company.)

Malfoy was surveying him shrewdly over the rim of pumpkin juice. Harry stared back, and then realized there was Legilimency glinting from behind Malfoy's cold eyes. He dropped his eyes down to his breakfast, and attacked the buttered toast, hoping that the other boy wouldn't say anything about Remus. Luckily, Malfoy remained quiet, and not another word was spoken throughout the meal.

* * *

"Good morning, Professor," said Madam Pomfrey as Severus strode into the hospital wing, carrying Potter's bag in one hand. She eyed it suspiciously. "What is that supposed to be?"

"Lupin asked me to give some things to Potter," answered Severus. And it was true. After the werewolf had finished his conversation with Potter, he had asked the Potions Master to grab a few things from Potter's room in the library. He wasn't sure why he had gone to get the items, but he was standing in the Infirmary with Potter's bag in his hand.

Madam Pomfrey pointed to the two beds off at the end of the row. Both had the curtains pulled tightly around, blocking off any people from seeing the two boys. "I moved them when I noticed that they were right in front of the door. It's not a good environment for healing."

Rolling his eyes, Severus made his way to the far end of the room. He had smelled the food before Draco stuck his head out from behind the curtains and asked, "Care to join us for breakfast, Professor?"

"No thank you, Draco," Severus replied. "I've already eaten. Is Potter awake?"

"Yeah, I'm awake," said a different voice. Another head poked out from behind the curtains, this one dark-haired and frightfully pale. "What do you need, Professor?"

"Nothing, Potter. Lupin asked me to get you something from your rooms." He held up the backpack. "I would assume they're your items from Black's house."

"It's my house, Professor," Potter said quietly, taking the bag from Severus's outstretched hand. "Sirius is dead."

"You have a knack for stating the obvious, Potter," sneered Severus, his upper lip curling. He turned to the other boy. "How are you feeling, Draco?"

"Just peachy. Pomfrey said I should be fine in about three days. Just in time for the start of term, eh?"

"Just in time," repeated Severus. He looked back at Potter, who was shifting through the contents of his backpack with a faint smile. "If you need anything else, Potter--"

"I won't," said Potter stubbornly, emerald eyes glaring.

"I won't," said Lily relentlessly, looking at him from the other chair by the fire. "I just won't, Severus. No more lies. We can't do this."

"Professor?"

"What?" he snapped at Draco, who visibly backed away.

"N-nothing, sir, you just looked kind of...not here..." Draco's voice trailed off, and he gulped. Potter looked amused.

"Good day to you both," Severus said shortly, turned on his heel, and left the hospital wing.

* * *

Once Snape had left the Infirmary, Malfoy let out the breath he had been holding. He turned to Harry, who had finally grasped what he had been looking for.

"You'd think he'd be kinder to me because I'm a Slytherin..." Malfoy muttered, watching the door carefully, as though he expected Snape to march in and reprimand him for being rude. "Hey, what're those?"

For Harry had just pulled Sirius's letters out of his backpack, and was spreading them out over his lap. He silently thanked Remus for bringing this to him; it could be just what he needed. Malfoy studied them for a moment, and then recognition leaped into his expression.

"Ah. Black's letters. Haven't read them yet?"

"Only one," Harry answered. His eyes caught on a bright orange envelope with the date of his third year scribbled across the front. "Ignore me for the next few minutes, all right?"

Dear Harry,

I apologize for the frightful colour of this envelope. I found it in a Muggle's garbage can, along with the pen and paper. The first true letter I've written to you in twelve long years, and you're getting it on the back of a shopping list.

Oh, Harry. I nearly died at the sight of you. You look exactly like James; it nearly tore my heart apart to see my best friend standing in front of me with his wand arm raised, telling me he's going to kill me. God, Harry, for a skinny thirteen-year-old, you certainly are brave. And knocking Snape out! It was almost like my school days.

Harry winced. Malfoy noticed, and inquired about it.

"Nothing," he replied dismissively. He gestured to the letter. "It's just something that makes me guilty, is all." Harry blinked the tears out of his eyes rapidly, hoping the other boy wouldn't notice. Having another thing for Malfoy to use to tease him this year was not something he planned to do. "What was in the letter he wrote to you?"

Malfoy suddenly looked guarded. "Just...stuff."

"Stuff," Harry stated.

"Look, Potter, you're not going to tell me what he wrote to you, so don't expect me to hand over my letter."

"You do have a point." Harry's eyes flitted longingly back to the letter.

"Go back to your reading, Potter."

I'm on the run now, so don't expect much from me until I can find a secure owl. Until then, I'll do my best to write down everything I can on various scraps of paper, and you can receive them some time later.

Where to start...Honestly, I'm not sure. I was in Azkaban barely a year ago, and life without Dementors is quite strange. All the memories coming back, for instance. Seeing James's face clearly for the first time in thirteen years; remembering my school years; Remus; your birth--oh, yeah, I was supposed to be your scribe, wasn't I? Some scribe I turned out to be. I think that one of the few letters I managed to write was your birth. Three months later, the Potters went into hiding.

I really wish we had killed Peter Pettigrew, Harry. Thirteen years of bottled frustration, anger, and hate would have gladly spilled out of the end of my wand into that little rat. I'm sure Remus would have enjoyed it, too, but not as much as I would have. But, in the end, what you did will come in handy. Saving a wizard's life creates a bond between them, as I'm sure Dumbledore has already explained to you. That bond will save your life someday, I'm sure.

I'm running out of room. The last thing I'll say, Harry, is that I'm so proud of you. You showed more courage in the Shack than I've ever felt in my entire life--well, except maybe during the war. Carrying your friend's unconscious body back to headquarters while shooting off various curses at Death Eaters is certainly a courageous thing, but I'm sure you don't want to hear--or read--stories from an old war hero, like myself. Maybe when you're older.

I hope Dumbledore figures out some way for the two of us to spend more time together. There's a lot to catch up on--your years at school, for instance--and there's a lot for me to tell you about my past, and your parents'.

Love,

Sirius

"Oh, Sirius," Harry whispered. "I wish you were here..."

"I'm sure you do, Potter, but please keep the mutters to a minimum," came the curt reply from the other bed. "A hospital wing is for healing, and I need to look somewhat like my old, handsome self when term starts."

"And he's modest, too," said Harry wryly, receiving a chuckle. "Sorry. I'll try and be quiet."

"Good."

Harry sorted through the letters, finding one the day after Voldemort had returned. He swallowed the lump in his throat, remembering Cedric's cold, lifeless body in his arms...He mentally slapped himself back to attention, and opened the envelope.

Dear Harry,

I've been told to "lie low at Lupin's", so this letter is coming to you from Remus's house. I'll probably be here until we can bring all the original members of the Order of the Phoenix together at my old house. By then, hopefully, Dumbledore will have let the two of us to see each other; honestly, I'm your godfather!

But enough about me (at least for now): Harry, words cannot express what I'm feeling now. Voldemort, returning from the "dead"? A fourteen-year-old boy watching it, after having to face a dragon, fight off merepeople for his best friend, go through a maze and seeing another boy die? God, I'm shaking just thinking about it. I wish I could be with you, Harry. We'd scare out the Dursleys, have the house to ourselves, and spend the day getting smashed--whoops, getting carried away. Too young for that, right?

Harry smiled at Sirius's attempt to put humour into such a horrific thing. A small weight lifted off his chest as he realized that comedy did help. Making a mental note to spend a lot more time with the twins, he poured himself a glass of water before returning to the letter.

But, anyway, I've got an important thing to tell you, Harry. I should have told you a long time ago, preferably that time in the Shack; of course, there was too much going on then to properly explain things. But I will now, because I'm too afraid to tell you face-to-face.

Harry, I...I prefer the company of men rather than women, and have since I was sixteen. I was too frightened of your response to tell you, and I doubt that I'll ever get around to it. It's not that I don't trust you, Harry, it's that I am truly afraid that our friendship will go out the window if I tell you. You know, your cool godfather Sirius turns out to be gay, right?

Well, now that I've outed myself, there is something much more important you should know. The person who made me realize that I was gay was your ex-professor, Remus Lupin.

Harry spat out a generous amount over the side of the bed as he read the last line. Malfoy, who had been attempting a nap, recoiled back as the water hit him full in the face.

"Christ, Potter!"

"Sorry, sorry!" Harry apologized, though he couldn't help but smile as he flicked his wand at Malfoy's soaked blankets. "Just a little surprise, that's all..."

"Keep those little surprises to yourself!"

Now that I've fully shocked you, let me explain.

Remus and I were friends, as you know. But friendship gradually became more in our later years at Hogwarts. I truly thought I had lost him with the Whomping Willow incident--oh, perfect timing for me to explain about that!

We became close in our sixth year. The wizarding world is somewhat like the Muggle world with this sort of prejudice, so there were a couple of people who said that what we were doing was unnatural. We lost some of our friends that year, but it was worth it.

By being the only openly gay couple in a school full of teenagers, we were bombarded with insults from a group of Slytherins. One of them in particular (I'm sure you know who he is by now) continued to insult Remus and me for the entire year. He called us horrible names that I don't even want to write down, for fear of either breaking the quill in anger or giving you new words to use. Finally, one day in Hogsmeade, I just couldn't take it anymore. He kept asking me why Remus went missing, where he went--I don't remember it to well, I think I had a little too much firewhiskey. But you know the rest.

Now that I've fully filled myself up with guilt again, I'll continue to explain about my relationship with Remus. It wasn't until our seventh year that he actually began to speak to me again. God, you don't even know how good that felt. After suffering through months of having your best friend not talk to you, a simple, "Pass me a quill, will you, Sirius?" does the heart good. So, we continued with our relationship until Azkaban.

Our relationship has resumed again. Your ex-teacher's lover is your godfather. I don't really know why I'm spelling this out for you, but I suppose it's because I need to see it writing so I know it's true. I'm happy, Harry.

Well. This letter was all about me. I apologise.

Love,

Sirius

Harry felt his hands grip the letter tightly in anger. Not because of Sirius's sexual preference, but because he hadn't told him when he was still alive. And why hadn't Remus told him? Probably because he was nervous of your reaction, like Sirius.

Or Snape?

Yeah, why didn't he tell you? He told you everything about Lily; why not about Sirius and Remus?

He pushed the curtains out of the way, stuffing the letter into his pocket as he hurried out of the hospital wing. He heard Malfoy calling out to him in confusion, and then shouting to Madam Pomfrey, but he was already running down to the dungeons.

* * *

An unlikely head popped into Severus's fireplace he walked towards his potions lab. He dropped the cup of tea he had been holding, splattering the liquid over his carpet as he stared at the familiar face.

"Lucius! What are you doing, you idiot?" he hissed, falling to his hands and knees in front of the flames. "You know not to contact me here now!"

"I apologise, Severus," said Lucius. He bowed his silver head, but the cold, grey eyes never left Severus's. "But I have heard things from our Master that are concerning me...You were rescued by Potter?"

Severus rolled his eyes. "Dumbledore didn't order him to, if that's what you're wondering about. Potter just decided to play hero. No idea why. He's got a problem with that, you know."

"Yes, we know that is one of his weaknesses. But why did you not kill him when you had the chance?"

Severus's breath caught, but he managed to disguise it with a cough. "Lucius, you know that I couldn't do that. He was armed, and I was not. I'm supposed to be kind to him now, you know that. I probably should have alerted the Dark Lord the instant I arrived back at Hogwarts, but Dumbledore insisted on me playing babysitter. And as long as Dumbledore believes I am on his side, I can give our Master information."

Lucius was frowning, but somehow managed to remain looking regal.

"This is the same sort of talk that lost you the Dark Lord's trust, friend."

"I know, Lucius." You're playing a dangerous game, Severus. Watch yourself. "I do hope I have regained it, after our--er--meeting at the Riddle House. I did not once complain, despite the torture."

"Speaking of torture..." A glint reached Lucius's eyes as he spoke, rolling the words of his tongue with perfection. "We're having a little fun tonight, at Malfoy Manor. Would you care to join?"

"Are you sure that's safe?" Severus asked, a little too quickly. His heart had jumped a beat at the thought of what Lucius had lovingly nicknamed this "fun"--Dark Revels. The thought of them shook his stomach, making the nausea rise in his throat. "Lucius, you've escaped from Azkaban. Do you think this wise? There are Aurors looking for you!"

Lucius bowed his head again. "Yes, friend, they are. But Malfoy Manor is protected by the strongest wards our Master can provide."

"And the Aurors?" Severus pressed on.

"They have nothing. All they've done is spoken extensively with Draco and Narcissa--"

"How is she?" Severus interrupted.

"Still babbling. She'll probably spend the rest of her life in St. Mungo's with the Longbottoms," Lucius sneered. "Anyway, Severus, you really must join us. In the old days, you and Avery certainly made a good match on the Muggles. And those potions!" Lucius shook his head, as though mystified by the power Severus held. "It was simply beautiful."

You are a sick man.

"Yes, quite beautiful. Almost exotic," Lucius mused. "To feel the blood spilling upon your hands from that warm flesh--"

A sharp knocking at the door interrupted Lucius's dreamy description of death, saving Severus the problem of vomiting into an empty cauldron after he left. The silver-haired man glanced up at Severus, worry etched into his face.

"Professor Snape?"

"Potter!" Lucius whispered, a malicious grin spreading across his pale features. "Oh, bring him in and let me fool around with him for a little bit, Severus--"

You are a very sick man.

"Shut up," Severus hissed. Standing up, he strode over to the door and ripped it open, revealing a startled looking boy. "What do you want, Potter? I'm extremely busy at the moment!"

He hoped that by using The Voice, Potter would take the hint and leave the dungeons, but there was no such luck. The boy peered over his shoulder, and, upon seeing the blonde head in the fireplace, gulped and looked at his feet.

"I just wanted to hand in my Potions work, Professor," said Potter, still looking down at the floor. Severus could tell that the boy was lying; there was something he had wanted to talk about, but obviously couldn't at the moment.

"Just leave it on my desk, Potter," Severus replied coldly, jerking his head at said desk. It was already littered with parchment and quills. Potter looked at it, smiled briefly, then nodded. "Goodbye, Potter."

He shut the door firmly, turned, and walked back to Lucius.

"I'll attend the Dark Revel tonight, Lucius. Would you like me to bring Draco with me?"

"Please do." The dreamy look came back to Lucius's face. "Severus, you should have seen the way your godson took the pain. It was simply superb. He barely flinched."

Maybe that's because you've been emotionally abusing him since he was a small boy. And you've taught him to ignore pain, haven't you? Because Malfoys never feel pain.

"He is certainly an addition to our ranks, with his connections with Dumbledore. I'm quite proud."

"I'm sure you are."

Lucius sighed. "I better be going, friend. The Floo Network could be watched from our house. I don't wish to be returned to Azkaban."

"Have a good day, Lucius," said Severus, watching as the head disappeared from the flames. He extinguished them with a wave of his hand, then walked over to the door of his office and opened it. Potter was sitting in a chair, looking out of breath, face flushed. His inner thoughts were practically screaming for anyone decent enough in Legilimency to interpret.

Severus frowned at him. "You've been eavesdropping."

* * *

Harry nodded, hoping he didn't look too guilty. Snape, sighing heavily, took the chair opposite him. He folded his hands together, resting his chin upon them.

"Do you want to know what a Dark Revel is?"

Harry hesitated, recalling that talking about Sirius and Remus was his original intention. However, curiosity took over, and he eagerly nodded.

"A revel is, by definition, 'boisterous partying.' A Dark Revel is various Death Eaters together at one of their homes--normally at Malfoy Manor or Avery's home--and practicing their work on unwilling participants." Snape looked thoroughly disgusted with himself as he spoke. "Do you remember the game I told you of?"

"Kill the Muggle," said Harry quietly.

"Yes. That is often played." Snape studied him for a moment, eyes cold and hidden. "What was so important that you left the hospital wing, Potter?"

Harry reached into his pocket and pulled out the letter. He handed it to Snape wordlessly, who took it with an arched eyebrow. He read it quickly, then placed it on an empty square of desk. Harry waited, but Snape didn't speak.

"Well?" said Harry finally, feeling frustrated with Snape's silence. "Why didn't you tell me? You told me everything else!"

"I thought Lupin would have preferred to tell you himself," said Snape stiffly. "Obviously, I see he is as much of a coward as Black was--"

Harry's wand was out before he even realized it, and he was pointing it at Snape's chest. "Sirius was not a coward," he said slowly, his legs shaking. He realized dimly that he had stood up. "He was not a coward, he was a brave man--"

"Right, Potter," Snape sneered. "'A brave man.' I've seen first-years with more courage than that mangy mutt."

Harry's fingers tightened on his wand. Snape hadn't even reached for his yet, so he clearly thought Harry was no threat. Either that, or he was surrendering. The latter was probably incorrect. Harry doubted that Snape had ever surrendered to anything.

"Sirius was not a coward," Harry repeated. "He was not a coward--"

"When we were at school, Potter, I could make your dear godfather tremble just by lifting my wand," Snape continued cruelly. "Only a coward attacks a man from the back, when he has the upper hand, when--"

Harry couldn't take the mocking anymore. Anger at Snape surged through his veins. Thinking desperately of Sirius or Remus didn't help at all. Before he knew it, he had bellowed, "Evincio!"

Thin cords sprung from the end of his wand, attacking Snape and tying him to his chair. His face remained expressionless, but Harry thought he had seen a spark of fear in his normally opaque eyes.

"Harry Potter, unless you are seriously considering death right now, put your wand down," said Snape, his voice slow and deliberate. He wasn't even bothering to struggle against the bonds; instead, he was merely sitting in his chair as though they were still having a normal conversation.

Harry's wand hand quavered, but it was still pointed at Snape's heart.

"Stop ridiculing Sirius," he said shakily. "Stop goading him, stop it--"

"Potter, I will say this again. If you value your life, put your wand down and return to your seat."

Why didn't he put down his wand? Harry wondered to himself, his hand still trembling. It was because he was defending Sirius, right? He was standing up for Sirius, right?

"No," he heard himself say. "No, sir, I'm not putting my wand down."

Snape took a deep breath and closed his eyes. Was he surrendering to Harry? Was he giving up? Preparing himself for whatever curses he thought Harry was about to throw at him? But since when did Harry plan on cursing Snape? All he was thinking about was defence, not attack, right?

Harry looked back down at Snape, realising that his mind had started to wander. "It's one of the worst things you can do in a duel," Snape had said, standing over him in the Dursley's backyard after one of their duelling sessions. "Thinking about something else, letting your mind drift off somewhere else; it gives your opponent the right amount of time to send a deadly curse. Now, stand up, Mr. Potter, and we'll try that last hex again."

"You leave me no choice, Potter," said Snape, surveying him with a look of...disapproval? Harry swallowed nervously, then remembered that he was in control here. He had the wand. Snape didn't.

"Laedo ledo!" Snape roared, breaking free of the cords and throwing a ball of fire from his fingertips into Harry's stomach. It propelled him into the shelf of the grisly potion ingredients suspended in beakers. They crashed all around him; spider legs, eel's eyes, other various things he didn't want to know about fell over his head and dripped down his body. Harry stared up at Snape, who was standing over him, with a mixture of awe and fear.

"Whoa!" Harry exclaimed, shaking what resembled a rat's tail off his shoulder. "Where did you learn how to do that?"

Snape gave him a grim smile. "Trust me, Potter, you really don't want to know where I learned that."

"No, I do!" Harry insisted. Snape offered him a hand, and he took it. As the other wizard pulled him up, he continued, "That was amazing! You didn't use your wand, and you got away from those cords and hexed me!"

"You should know, Potter," said Snape, pulling a hippogriff's claw out of his hair, "that wandless magic is considered Dark Magic by the Ministry of Magic. That hex I used on you was also illegal."

"Don't care," said Harry immediately, looking up at his teacher with new respect. He had known that Snape was a powerful wizard, but to use such an incredible ability, and to look as though it wasn't such a big deal, was worth learning to him. "That was fucking spectacular!"

"Language, Potter."

"Sorry, sir."

They were silent for a few minutes.

"Do you want to learn wandless magic, Potter?"

"Yes," said Harry at once. "I want power like that, Professor, it looked bloody brilliant--"

"You're treading on a dangerous path, Potter," Snape warned him. "I don't think Dumbledore would approve of this. You're talking about wanting power, rather than knowledge."

"That's what I mean! I want to learn wandless magic, so I'll be more powerful in battle!"

"If you ever get into a true battle," Snape pointed out.

"I've been in a true battle!" Harry cried out.

"Not in one where your friends aren't helping you," Snape shot back.

"True," Harry admitted. "But will you teach me? Please, sir?"

"Albus will not approve," said Snape firmly.

"I thought he wanted me to learn how to kill Voldemort," said Harry awkwardly. "Wouldn't becoming a better duellist help me?"

Snape hesitated. Harry shifted his weight from one foot to the other as he waited. He made an attempt to flatten his hair. He scratched his ear, despite the fact that it didn't itch.

Finally, Snape said, "All right, Potter. I'll let you have a try at wandless magic."

A smile spread across Harry's face. "Thanks!"

"Remove that grin, Mr. Potter. If you fail to complete the task I give you, I won't consider teaching you in N.E.W.T Potions this year." Harry ducked his head down to look at his shoes, his smile fading. Did he want to sacrifice two more years of Potions--a class that would help him become an Auror--for a short lesson that he might fail?

"Are you ready, Potter?" Harry nodded slowly. Please tell me I know what I'm doing. "Hand over your wand."

Harry extended his hand, which carried his wand loosely. Snape took it, placed the thin piece of wood into a pocket, and strode over to his desk. He opened a drawer, rummaged through it for a moment, and then finally came up with an empty beaker.

"I thought I had one lying around here somewhere...Well, Potter, here's your chance. I want you to break this beaker with wandless magic."

"That's easy!" Harry exclaimed. "Just a simple Vis vires, and it's blown to pieces!"

Snape smirked as he set the beaker down on a chair. "Go ahead and break it, Potter."

Feeling a bit stupid, Harry held his hand out in front of him as though he were holding a wand. Aiming it at the beaker, he said clearly, "Vis vires!"

Nothing happened.

Harry scowled in frustration, and tried again.

"Vis vires!"

Nothing. Harry turned to Snape, who was still smirking.

"Why isn't it working?" Harry demanded. "I'm saying the right words!"

"Potter, you've spent more than five years in the wizarding world. You should know by now that magic is more than just waving your wand and saying the correct words," Snape explained to him. "You must feel the magic, as cliché as it sounds. Bring out the power from inside of you."

"All right." Harry returned to the beaker. He rolled his shoulders, shifted his feet, and took a deep breath. "Vis vires!"

The beaker remained still.

"Vis vires! Vis vires! Vis vires! Vis vires!"

"Saying it four times won't help anything, Potter," came Snape's voice from the corner.

"Shut up," Harry snapped. "Vis vires!"

"You're thicker than I thought, Potter."

"Vis vires!"

"Even Weasley could manage to do this, I'm sure."

Harry ignored the snide comment about his friend, saying, "Vis vires!"

"I suppose you didn't inherit your parents' skill in magic."

His hand had started to shake in anger. How dare Snape insult his parents? James was plenty smart; he was an Animagus, Head Boy, first in all of his classes! "Vis vires!"

"You're nothing special, are you Potter?" Clearly, Snape was enjoying his taunting. There was a certain tone to his voice, a joyful malice. "I didn't think you were anything special, anyway. Just a stupid, arrogant boy--"

"VIS VIRES!"

The beaker shattered as a jet of blue light shot from the end of Harry's hand, making the tiny pieces be thrown into various corners of the room. Being in the path of these corners, Harry flinched as tiny pieces of glass imbedded themselves into the exposed skin in his face and arms. He looked back at Snape, taking in huge gulps of air as he attempted to breathe.

"Don't hyperventilate, Potter," said Snape with amusement.

Harry forced himself to calm down, then looked at his hand. It was still shaking; whether in anger or fear, he wasn't sure. He had just used Dark Magic. For the second time in his life. Could you go to Azkaban for wandless magic? How could he defeat Voldemort if he was rotting away in a cell? But more importantly, he wanted more. He wanted to do it again. The spell that had erupted from his hand had brought a sense of power.

And he liked it.

"If you're worrying about Azkaban, don't," continued Snape. Harry's spirits relaxed slightly. "I've been using Dark Magic since I was thirteen, and I haven't been sent to prison...at least for that particular subject. The Ministry doesn't usually keep a watch on adolescents."

"Except me," Harry said grimly.

"Except you. But you're at Hogwarts, you're fine." Snape glanced down at the glass that littered the floor and Harry's body. "Reparo!"

Harry winced as the glass zoomed back together onto the table, smearing little droplets of blood across his skin. "You might want to start learning some Healing Charms, Potter," observed Snape.

"I think I'll just go to Madam Pomfrey for now," Harry replied, touching the small wounds hesitantly, wincing as it stung.

"Before you go..." Snape began, then paused, holding up a hand. "Wait here." He left for his private rooms, then returned a moment later with a newspaper. "Lupin wanted me to give this to you, but I forgot all about it."

Harry took the newspaper, eyes widening. It was the Daily Prophet, with two enormous pictures of Sirius on the front. The first was Sirius as a convict. Skeletal face, yellowed skin, flashing eyes. Harry recognized the second immediately. It was Sirius as the best man at the Potter's wedding.

"You may sit down."

Harry looked up. Snape gestured to a chair.

"Oh. Thanks."

He took the chair, realizing his legs were shaking. Mentally calming himself, Harry began to read.

SIRIUS BLACK DECLARED INNOCENT!

On August 8^th, the Wizengamot found Sirius Black, once thought to be the serial killer that brought Lily and James Potter's lives to an end, innocent on all charges.

The trial lasted three days, with Madam Bones and Albus Dumbledore showing all the evidence they could with their witnesses. Their first, Harry Potter, explained the true story of Peter Pettigrew (turn to page 15 for more details) and Sirius Black's death. His two friends, Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger, both agreed that he was telling the truth. All three looked rather shaken during their questioning.

On the second day, Remus Lupin--Sirius Black's friend from Hogwarts--answered questions asked by Dumbledore. Because of his constant outbursts, the Minister of Magic was not given the chance to interrogate the witness. He was also fined twenty Galleons for contempt of court.

When the Wizengamot demanded more evidence, Dumbledore and Bones brought out "the big guns", as Muggles say: Draco Malfoy, son of Lucius Malfoy, a known Death Eater. He told the Wizengamot of Pettigrew's guilt and Black's innocence. It was this surprise that swayed the Wizengamot's decision.

Harry turned the page. To his surprise, there were five pictures surrounding the rest of the article. The first was a shot of Winchcombe (somewhat bored and haughty), Dumbledore (calm and old-looking), Madam Bones (nervous and almost twitching), and Fudge (angry and red-faced). The second, to his confused feeling of embarrassment and pride, was Harry sitting in the chained chair, gesturing a lot while he spoke. The third was Madam Bones talking to the Wizengamot.

The fourth was a photo of the right side of the courtroom. The caption to this photo was Harry Potter and new guardian, Remus Lupin, clutch hands while they await the verdict, despite the fact that Ron and Hermione were in the picture, too.

The last, Harry realised with confusion, was of him and Malfoy. It had to have been when the trial was over, Harry guessed, because they were shaking hands. The caption read A Slytherin and a Gryffindor make up their differences after the verdict is announced.

Harry quickly scanned the rest of the article. The entire edition of the Daily Prophet seemed to be about Sirius; there were Turn to page 19 for more details of Sirius Black's life everywhere. There were a few paragraphs about the lives of various witnesses. And, surprisingly, there was not much about The-Boy-Who-Lived-Despite-All-That-Dangerous-Stuff-That-Happens-To-Him-Every-Year.

Snorting at the ridiculously long title he had just thought up for himself, Harry handed the newspaper back to Snape. The other wizard shook his head and gave it back.

"Did I not tell you that Lupin told me to give it to you? Keep it, Potter. I don't need newspapers about Black lying around my rooms."

Harry tucked the newspaper into his pocket. The cuts on his neck and arms were starting to itch dreadfully, and Snape noticed.

"You might as well go to Pomfrey now, Potter. If there was any trace of the fluids I keep my ingredients in that beaker, you'll be sick for weeks."

Harry grimaced. "Thanks for warning me before." He started to walk towards the door, then paused. "Don't you have to tell Malfoy about the Dark Revel?"

It was Snape's turn to grimace. "I'd forgotten about that. I'll escort you to the hospital wing, Potter. Pomfrey will probably want a reason for you running out."

"I was going to be leaving this afternoon, anyway." Harry opened the door, and bowed mockingly. "After you, sir."

Snape merely sneered, but he strode through the door. Harry hurried after him, looking at his hand as they strolled down the corridor.

"What else could I do with wandless magic?" Harry asked, still examining his right hand with amazement. He wanted that power back again. It had filled him up with such emotion and feeling, made him feel good and strong. "Can I do hexes, stuff like that?"

"I doubt you'll be able to manage hexes soon," answered Snape. His tone wasn't ridiculing for once, Harry noticed as they exited the dungeons. "You should continue practicing with small things. Summoning Charms, for instance."

"But what about the big stuff?" Harry persisted as they passed Nearly Headless Nick, who nodded to Harry respectfully. "I like the power. I want to be able to curse someone without my wand."

Snape stopped abruptly. Harry, who had been a few paces behind, promptly walked into the other man's shoulder. Rubbing his smarting nose, he glanced up at Snape. To his surprise, the Potions Master looked angry.

"What?" Harry asked incredulously.

"Listen to me, Potter." Snape's voice had gained the dangerous low hiss that made his students quake in fear. Harry was suddenly exceedingly glad that term hadn't started, and points couldn't be taken away from Gryffindor. "Dark Magic is addicting. You don't want to get sucked into it too early, or you won't ever be able to get out. Yes, there is 'good' Dark Magic, often used by Healers. But it is still an illegal kind of magic, and you could get in trouble for it. Try reading a few books on wandless magic, there's some fairly dark stuff. Dark Magic is fuelled by your emotions, specifically anger. We cannot have you getting out of control, Potter. You will not practice hexes and any other difficult spells wandless without the Headmaster's supervision. I suspect he will be unhappy for even allowing you to try without his approval. Do you understand me, Potter?"

Harry nodded uncertainly. He wished Snape had mentioned this earlier.

"Very well." Snape resumed walking. After a moment's pause, Harry followed.

"Back when you were talking with Mr. Malfoy--" Harry began, but Snape cut him off.

"Do not call him Mr. Malfoy, Potter," he said strictly. "Lucius is not someone who deserves your respect. Don't make it a habit. Call him Lucius or Malfoy."

"Erm...okay..." said Harry precariously. "Er--when you were talking with Lucius, he said 'your godson' when he was talking about Malfoy."

"Draco's my godson, yes," Snape replied rigidly. "Lucius named me godfather the day he was born. I was present at his birth at Malfoy Manor."

"Wizards do home births?" Harry inquired. Snape nodded.

"Often, yes. However, when the mother is ill or the conditions are not fit for childbirth, it's done at the nearest magical hospital."

Harry made a noncommittal sound, just to be saying something. A sudden question sparked his interest, but he hesitated. Snape sensed his anxiety, and signalled for him to continue as they passed a portrait of a dragon breathing flames over a Muggle village.

"Did you ever see...me? When I was a baby?"

Snape nodded.

"When?"

"August 1st, 1981, Diagon Alley," Snape recited. "You were there with your parents. It was the last time they dared to leave their house before it was warded. Your father was looking at brooms, trying to find one small enough for you to ride. Lily was sitting outside on a bench, holding you. She invited me to join her. I did."

"Were you working for the Or--erm, the old crowd at the time?"

"Yes. She trusted me, if that's what you mean, Potter." Harry could see the doors to the hospital wing just down the corridor. "The look on James's face when he came out of the store to see me sitting next to his wife was just perfect. Just perfect," Snape repeated, as though cherishing the words. "And I'm sure he was even more delighted to see his wife's ex-lover holding his child."

"You were holding me?"

"Yes. First time I've been vomited on by a baby." Harry couldn't help but chuckle at the disgusted look on Snape's face. "I'm sure you knew exactly what you were doing, too."

"I had only turned a year old the day before!" Harry exclaimed.

"You'd be surprised at what one can do at that age, Potter."

They had reached the hospital wing. Snape opened the door and strode in, heading for Malfoy's bed. Harry stepped in to look for Madam Pomfrey. He spotted her just beside the door, fixing him with a dark glare. Harry found himself hanging his head in guilt.

"Sorry, Madam Pomfrey," he muttered. "I shouldn't have run off."

"Too right, Mr. Potter, too right!" Madam Pomfrey said shrilly. "You should be glad Professor Snape brought you back up here, and that term hasn't begun! Now, what have you done to your arms and face, dear?"

"A beaker broke over my head," said Harry as Pomfrey inspected his injuries. All right, so that wasn't completely the truth, but it was close enough, and the nurse wasn't bothering to ask any more questions.

Pulling out her wand, Pomfrey whispered a few words in Latin under her breath that Harry couldn't catch. There was a slight tingling feeling, and they were healed.

"Thanks," said Harry gratefully. The nurse nodded and bustled away to Malfoy's bed. He glanced down after her, and caught Snape's eye. The other man held up a hand. Harry inclined his head, and leaned against the wall to wait.