Stay Free

Chapter 18: Thestrals and Trains

When Harry got to Hagrid's cabin, there was a note on the front door in the gamekeeper's untidy scrawl, informing him that the half-giant was in the forest, talking with the centaurs, and that Harry should feel free to begin whenever he liked.

Peering into the garden, Harry saw that there were buckets of raw meat sitting on the grass. One thestral had wandered over from the forest already, and was happily munching on the carcass inside the enormous bucket. Harry resisted the urge to wrinkle his nose.

He made his way into Hagrid's garden. The thestral looked up when he stepped inside, but returned to eating. How was he supposed to harness it to the carriage? Speaking of which, where were the carriages?

Walking around a giant pumpkin that was obviously grown with magic, Harry spotted them. Lots of empty carriages, each with a harness. This was going to be a lot of bad omens, if he truly believed in that Divination junk.

Harry turned back to the thestral. "Er..." he said hesitantly. It looked up at him expectantly. "Here, boy..." he tried lamely. The thestral snorted and ripped a chunk of meat.

"It helps if you lead them to the carriage," said a voice from the other side of the garden. Harry had his wand whipped out and curses on the tip of his tongue when he saw it was Snape, standing with one hand on the gate. He lowered his wand, tucking it back into his jeans.

"Professor, what are you doing here?"

"Thought you might want help," said Snape conversationally. He looked at the thestral, who had glanced up at the arrival of a new human. Placing two fingers in his mouth, Snape whistled sharply. The thestral trotted over, its leathery wings folding back.

"And now..." said Snape, laying a hand on the thestral's neck, "...you lead them over to the carriage."

And he proceeded to do so. Harry followed, watching as Snape slipped the harness over the thestral's neck, making sure it was tied securely. When it was, he waved his hand at a bucket of meat. A good-sized chunk flew into his outstretched fingers, which he dropped onto the grass. The thestral immediately began devouring it.

"Go and have a try," said Snape, wiping his dirty hands on his robes. Harry stared at him for a full minute, which Snape noticed in the first few seconds. "What?"

"Something's up," said Harry slowly. "You're never this nice."

And Snape did something odd. He looked up at the sky, inhaled deeply, and muttered something that sounded like, "James, you bastard." He then looked at Harry, chewing on the corner of his lip.

"Well?" said Harry impatiently. "What? Did somebody die? Has Fudge done something stupid? What's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong, Potter," said Snape quickly, dismissing the idea. "I...erm...had a similar experience last night that you had while at Grimmauld Place."

"Pardon?"

"It seems that I, too, have attracted the dead into my dreams," said Snape. His expression had gone soft, and Harry knew who it was.

"Mum?"

Snape nodded.

"What did she say?"

"More importantly, what did they say," said Snape grimly. "Lily was joined by your father and Black."

"Dad? And Sirius?" said Harry skeptically. "Why on earth would they want to contact you? No offence, of course," he added hastily.

"Well...they wanted to talk about you," Snape answered, looking somewhat uncomfortable. More thestrals had appeared, and he strode over to one of them. Harry trailed after him. "They wanted to be sure you were taken care of."

"What do they know?" Harry asked curiously.

"Everything." Snape began leading a thestral over to an empty harness. Harry grabbed the meat bucket and lugged it behind him. "They watch you."

"They watch me?"

"All the time." Snape hitched up the thestral with some difficulty; it kept trying to lick the drying blood off his robes.

"I wonder what they'd say right now."

"Probably something along the lines of, 'Harry Potter, hand Professor Snape a piece of meat for this thestral before it licks him to death,'" said Snape irritably, pushing the thestral's head off his shoulder.

"Oh! Right," said Harry apologetically, ripping a piece of meat out of the bucket and dropping it on the ground beside the thestral with a small plop!

"You can do the next one," said Snape dryly, watching more thestrals trot into the garden from the forest. Harry was already leading one over to a carriage when he finished speaking. He hooked the harness over the thestral's neck as he spoke.

"You said you'd been to Azkaban. What was it like?"

A shudder passed through Snape's body as Harry turned to look at him. "Bad. Very bad."

"Could you elaborate?" Harry suggested as he placed a piece of meat on the ground.

"Why so interested?"

Harry shrugged. "Conversation seemed to be growing dull."

"Ah. Well." Snape harnessed another thestral. "It was...quite possibly the worst week of my life."

Harry spun around, causing the thestral to snort unhappily and poke its nose into the back of his neck. He handed it more meat, saying, "What do you mean, 'worst week'? You were imprisoned there?"

"Death Eater, Potter," said Snape almost nonchalantly, as though being in servitude to an evil dark lord was a mediocre task.

"Well, yeah, I know, but I didn't know you were imprisoned!" Harry exclaimed as he tried to persuade a stubborn thestral to walk over to a carriage. "Were you caught?"

"Yes. Shortly after the...er..." Snape looked around cautiously, as though expecting eavesdroppers. He gave Harry a significant look. Ah. After the prophecy, then. "Two weeks after I confessed to Dumbledore, and a week after I became a member of the Order. It took awhile for Dumbledore to convince the Ministry that I deserved a fair trial, and that I was loyal. I spent a week in Azkaban while I waited for my trial."

"It's good that you got a trial," said Harry, shaking his head. "Crouch was nuts about catching Death Eaters."

"I owe my life to Dumbledore," said Snape quietly. "He protected me from the Ministry, and from my fellow Death Eaters. Some of them felt that I was a traitor for not going to Azkaban for our Lord, and enjoyed sending various hexes my way. Dumbledore let me stay at Hogwarts."

"What's it like there?" Harry asked softly. A thestral nudged its head into the side of his neck. He scratched the animal's nose gently.

"You never asked Black?" Snape inquired, sounding surprised. Harry shook his head. "I see. Well...it's really dark. I was considered a high-security prisoner, so they always kept at least three Dementors outside my cell at all times. I was able to Occlude my mind against some of it, but they did take some of my favourite memories."

"Can you ever get them back?" said Harry, swallowing uncomfortably. Muggle prisons seemed bad enough, but wizard prisons made his skin crawl.

"Let me put it this way...Your brain remembers every single thing that happened to you. Every day, every hour, every minute. You just don't have the power to conjure it up all at once. For example, memories of your school years before Hogwarts are probably distant."

"I can only remember having to stand in a toilet and wearing Dudley's old clothes," said Harry, his voice low. Ignoring him, Snape went on.

"So, everything the Dementors sucked up has been pushed to the back of my mind. I can recall some of them, but others..." The older wizard shrugged. "I can't."

"I never asked Sirius about Azkaban," Harry muttered to himself, dragging another unrelenting thestral to a carriage. When he finally hitched it up, he looked back at Snape. "What did Sirius say? In your dream, I mean."

"Nothing special. Just told me that he wanted me to watch you while Lupin was gone, and that he was glad to see James and Lily again." Snape suddenly looked uncomfortable. His eyes drifted to somewhere to the right of Harry, who frowned. Snape never broke eye contact.

"Watch me?"

"Yes. It was your father's request, as well. They wanted me to watch and protect you while Lupin is on business for the old crowd." Snape sighed heavily and looked up at the sky again. "I hope you're happy, James," he grumbled. "You too, Black."

Harry looked down at his feet, a sudden spark of anger flooding his veins. He knew why Lily had contacted Snape; they had once loved each other, he could understand that. And Sirius had contacted him because he wanted to tell Harry about the box at Godric Hollow. But why hadn't his parents tried to come to him in his dreams? Why had they gone to Snape's? Harry knew his father had despised Snape, and so did Sirius. Why did they go to Snape's dreams, instead of his? Dare he ask?

A slight nibble on his ear grabbed Harry's attention. His hand was on the handle of his wand before he realized it was just a neglected thestral that had finished its meat already. He led it to the bucket, wiping the slobber off his ear.

"You all right, Potter?" Snape asked, almost hesitantly.

"Fine," said Harry quickly. Snape fixed him with a sharp gaze, and he immediately felt the other man poke through his mind. He broke eye contact, and felt some of it slip away. However, Snape was staring holes in the top of his head, and Harry began to make barriers. They were silent for a few minutes; Snape trying to pick up emotions and thoughts from Harry, and Harry trying to block it off.

Finally, it was gone. Harry let out all the air he had been holding, and looked back up. Snape seemed exhausted.

"Impressive, Potter," said Snape, wiping his brow and shaking the sweat off his fingertips into the grass. "Have you been practicing?"

"Every night."

"Good."

They continued to work. The anger slowly built up in Harry, bubbling from the very centre of him until he was gnashing his teeth. He was insanely jealous of Snape. He had gotten to see Lily and James after fifteen years, even though the he despised the latter. Harry still desperately wished for some way to see his parents again...

"Why didn't my mum and dad contact me?" Harry blurted out. Snape raised an eyebrow at his outburst, and Harry flushed. "I mean, why haven't they tried? Has it not worked?"

"For the dead to contact the living, they had to love each other much," said Snape, his cheeks slightly pink. He deliberately looked away, causing Harry to smile. "And for the dead to be a powerful witch or wizard. That would be no problem for your mother and you. However, she believed that it would be like your experience with the Mirror of Erised."

Harry's smile faded. It was the truth. "She was probably right."

"Perhaps."

They worked in silence, hitching up thestrals. Hagrid didn't return from the forest to help, and Harry prayed that he had his half-brother with him to protect himself from any angry centaurs.

"The train will be arriving in an hour or so," said Snape once they had finished. He spat onto the ground, looking vaguely ill. Harry wondered if he was looking sick at the thought of another year of teaching, and smiled at the thought. "May I inquire what is so funny, Mr. Potter?"

"Nothing," said Harry quickly, his smile fading. He scratched the back of his neck. "So...when are you going to tell Mark?"

"I doubt I ever will," said Snape stiffly. He leaned against one of the giant pumpkins casually, but his shoulders were tight, his back rigid. "At least not now. When he's older. The last thing the boy needs before his first year in a wizarding school is to learn that the dreaded, hated Professor Snape is his father."

"Maybe. I still think you should."

"When he's older," Snape repeated. "I can't tell him now."

"What if I do?"

"Then I will personally remove all points from Gryffindor and give you detention for the entire term," said Snape calmly. Harry stared.

"Are you serious?"

"Yes. Slytherin hasn't won the House Cup in ages, they need all the help they can get."

"Isn't it depressing, Professor?" called a voice from the gate. Harry turned to see Malfoy striding into the garden, followed closely by Mark. "Potter keeps doing heroic things and taking all the points for Gryffindor."

"It's not my fault," said Harry, making an attempt to flatten his hair as a gust of wind blew by.

"Thestrals?" Malfoy inquired, motioning to the carriages. Both Harry and Snape nodded. "I hate those things. They terrify me."

"What things?" Mark asked with confusion, watching Malfoy's hand gesture. "What are you talking about?"

"Thestrals are magical creatures that can only be seen if you've seen someone die," Snape explained, swatting a fly that had been buzzing about the meat juice on his shoulder for the past few minutes. "I'm guessing you can't see them."

Mark shook his head. "I don't think I want to."

"Good choice." This came from Malfoy, who was stepping away from the nearest thestral. He had a disgusted look on his face. "Not something to be proud of, being able to see a thestral."

"When does the train arrive?" said Harry to Snape, who was watching Mark with a strange expression on his face. He looked up when Harry spoke.

"It should reach Hogsmeade station soon. Dumbledore has given you, Draco, and Mark permission to meet the students," Snape answered. His lips curled into a sneer. "I am to accompany you. Minerva will join us later."

"Extra security measures?" Malfoy suggested, and Snape nodded. "The school isn't going to bring a dragon to guard us, are they? They've had some pretty nasty things protecting us. There was that three-headed dog for the Philosopher's Stone, Dementors so the alleged murderer, Sirius Black, wouldn't kill us all, and all of Umbridge's crazy stunts last year."

"There is a war coming," said Harry quietly.

When the silence had stretched for too many unfortunate minutes, Snape gestured to one of the carriages.

"Shall we? We'll want to get there early."

"All right," said Mark eagerly. Snape opened the door for him, and the young boy clambered in. Harry and Malfoy followed, and Snape climbed in last after giving a piercing whistle to the thestrals. The carriages began to move.

Harry, sitting next to Snape, leaned forward and resting his elbows on his knees, hands clasped together. "What house do you all think Mark will be in?"

"Slytherin, of course," said Snape loftily. "He's ambitious. Cunning. All the traits a Slytherin needs."

"But is he a pureblood?" Malfoy inquired. "Only purebloods are allowed in Slytherin, I thought."

"Tom Riddle was the only half-blood ever sorted into Slytherin," said Snape. He had frozen at the mention of Mark's blood, but seemed to be slowly calming.

Malfoy turned to Mark. "My family's been in Slytherin for centuries, so I was naturally sorted into that house. I think it's the same with Potter, except he's a Gryffindor."

"There were a few Ravenclaws in the Potter family," Snape interjected. "Potter's father's cousin, I believe, was one of them. I hexed her hair pink once."

Mark giggled. Snape didn't offer an explanation for his actions, which seemed to delight the younger wizard even more.

"I don't know what houses my parents were in or if their blood is pure or not," Mark clarified, speaking directly to Malfoy. "So I don't know what House I'll be in."

Harry slid his eyes over to Snape, who was sitting very still. "I think Mark will be a Ravenclaw," he said. "Don't you think so, Professor? He likes to read, and he understands it all."

"I suppose so. I would like another addition to my House, however."

"I wouldn't be a Gryffindor, I know that," said Mark, fiddling with a loose thread in his sweatshirt. "I'm not brave at all."

"I do believe I'm outnumbered," Harry muttered. "Two Slytherins and a possible Ravenclaw."

"The ever-present Gryffindor ego will make up for it," said Snape sardonically, generating a snort from Malfoy and a glare from Harry.

"I think that's the second joke you've made this week, sir," Harry put in lightly. After all, term was beginning tomorrow. He could get detention just for looking at Snape the wrong way. "Are you sure you're not ill?"

"Quite sure, Potter."

They spent the rest of the trip down to Hogsmeade station explaining Quidditch to Mark, who was mystified by the entire game and couldn't believe people flew on broomsticks, just like in the books.

* * *

The train wasn't in the station when they arrived, but Harry hadn't expected it to. The carriages had always been there when he had gotten off the train, anyway. No reason for them to be late.

Harry sat on the ground, leaning against the wall with his ankles crossed and his hands in his lap. Mark joined him, while Snape and Malfoy remained standing. Obviously, Slytherins didn't dare dirty their robes with dust and pebbles.

"Harry?"

"Yes?" He turned to Mark, who was watching Snape.

"Um...I have a few questions," said Mark almost shyly. He picked up a small rock, tossing it into the fields across the train tracks.

"What is it?"

"When I was captured by those Death people--"

"Death Eaters," Harry broke in.

"Yeah, Death Eaters. When I was captured by them, Professor Snape and that Malfoy boy saved me." Here, Mark began to gradually look more nervous. "Why were they there? You said something about a Dark Revel, but I don't know what that is."

"A Dark Revel is Death Eaters gathering together to torture Muggles," said Harry, trying to put it as casual as possible. He didn't want to scare the poor boy right before his first year at Hogwarts, after all.

"Why were they there, though?"

Harry paused, gnawing on his lower lip uncertainly. Snape's double agent job wasn't exactly public knowledge, and Voldemort couldn't know about that job or Malfoy's. But Mark was looking at him expectantly, obviously wanting an answer. He sighed.

"I don't know how to put this, but I'll try...Do you remember I told you that there is a war going on against Voldemort?" Mark nodded. "Well, you know how sometimes in books or films, there's the good guy who pretends to be the bad guy in order to kill the real bad guy?" Mark nodded again. "Well, Snape and Malfoy are both that guy."

"Oh."

"But you mustn't tell anyone, Mark. While they pretend to be bad guys, it helps the good guys get information to kill the bad guy boss." Harry shifted his weight, brushing rocks out from under him. "And I apologize for talking to you like you're seven."

"It's okay. I understand. I won't tell, I promise."

"And if you do hear someone talk about it, I want you to go straight to Dumbledore," added Harry on an afterthought. "He can deal with it better than I would."

"I'm not supposed to know, am I?"

"I'm not supposed to know."

"Big secret, then."

"Yes."

There was a small blob moving down towards them. McGonagall. Harry recognized her from the small limp that the four Stunners had given her the previous year. She approached Snape and Malfoy, speaking with both briefly.

Term was starting soon, Harry realized. School was going to start up again. He, Ron, and Hermione would be taking classes again. Seamus and Dean would get into fights over the football poster beside Dean's bed. Neville would be...well, Neville. Colin Creevy would take pictures of everyone, regardless of their feelings about it. Quidditch would start up again. There would be work to be done, tests to take, evil Dark wizards to destroy. But was he ready for another year?

McGonagall had said something that made Snape's upper lip curl back as Harry pondered his last thought. Was he ready? There were so many things he had to think about this year...

Sirius Black was dead. That was the first hurdle, which Harry had successfully jumped. Yes, there was an empty hole in him that had been Sirius, but Harry would slowly move on. Sirius had been the father to him, done his job as godfather, protected him the best he could on the run. Of course, Remus probably missed Sirius more than Harry could imagine.

Remus. That was another obstacle. He was gone for the time being, having meetings with angry, bloodthirsty, Voldemort-supporting werewolves and gathering information for the Order. It was possible that he would die. Extremely probable, in fact. That would be the second blow Harry wouldn't be able to take. Having Sirius gone was one thing, but if both he and Remus weren't ever coming back, Harry hardly believed he would be able to live. It was strange how dependant he had become on the werewolf, but he supposed it was the natural emotion inside him that craved for a parent's love. Harry desperately prayed that Remus would be all right, and live to see the Christmas holidays.

Right. Sirius was dead, Remus could be. Harry mentally wiped the sweat off his forehead. The next thing on his inner checklist?

The prophecy.

Harry doubted that he would ever be able to tell Ron and Hermione about it. Yes, he shared everything with them, but the fate of the wizarding world on his shoulders was a bit more than regular gossip. All right. So, he was the one who had the power to kill Voldemort. Not your normal daily chore, but it was his destiny--or rather, his doom. He would be able to do it. Maybe Dumbledore would take over his Occlumency lessons, and allow Snape to keep teaching Harry duelling and wandless magic.

Snape. Now, that was a whole different subject. At the moment, the Potions Master was apparently instructing his godson on the dangers of jumping in front of the train tracks, because he was yanking Malfoy away from said train tracks by the back of his robes.

There were a lot of things to be said about Snape, Harry mused. He had, after all, had a child with Lily. He certainly seemed to have loved her more than Harry thought possible, which could explain why he had hated Harry over the years. No, Harry argued with himself. Snape had been awful to him because he still held a grudge against James and Sirius. Lily was merely the cherry on top of the ice cream sundae of ill will.

Snape had been odd this summer. Arriving at the Dursleys with the intent to rip every single memory from Harry's mind, then bandaging up the broken ankle Uncle Vernon had caused. Throwing insult after insult at him, then breaking down and telling Harry everything about his mother. Being the cold, cynical bastard that everybody hated to becoming the strangely kind adult Harry had grown to trust.

How would Snape treat him in Potions class? The insults about James and Sirius would certainly die down, Harry was sure. House points would most likely be taken away with joy. But Harry suspected he wouldn't see the vulnerable man who had wept as he told Harry of Lily.

The sound of the train's whistle was only the background of Harry's thoughts. He mulled over what he was going to do this year, itching the back of his knee as he did so.

Yes, he was going to take the N.E.W.T. classes an Auror needed. He still hadn't received his schedule, but Harry wagered that Dumbledore knew.

What else was he going to do? Attempt to kill Lord Voldemort, perhaps? Harry snorted at the thought. He definitely wasn't ready for that.

"Potter!"

Harry jerked his head up. Snape was standing over him, an eyebrow raised. Mark was talking with Malfoy over by the tracks. He hadn't seen the soon-to-be-first-year leave.

"Both myself and McGonagall have been trying to get your attention for the past five minutes. The train's almost here. What's on your mind, boy?"

"Just thinking about what I'm going to do this year, sir," answered Harry honestly. Snape looked as though he was resisting the urge to roll his eyes, but he held out his hand to Harry. The younger wizard took it, and Snape pulled him up.

"I do hope that your plans include paying attention when a Professor is speaking to you," said Snape dryly, brushing the dirt off his cloak. Harry felt quite silly, like he was five and being chided for falling in the mud. "Don't think I'm going to be easy on you this year, Potter."

"I didn't think so."

"Good."

Snape led him over to McGonagall, Malfoy, and Mark. The train was slowing down, puffing great amounts of smoke as it slid into the station with a great squeaking of breaks. It stopped perfectly, and the doors slid open. Harry waited, his insides quivering with anticipation.

Swarms of people came out of the open doors, pulling cloaks over their new robes and looking around excitedly. Harry heard Hagrid calling the first years, and he looked down at Mark.

"That's you," he said, smiling. "You take a boat ride across the lake with Hagrid. It's incredible."

"Go quickly, or you'll be stuck in a boat all by yourself," encouraged Malfoy, pushing the smaller boy towards the crowd of fidgety looking first- years. "We'll see you at the Sorting. Slytherin, remember?"

"Gryffindor," Professor McGonagall corrected, leaning heavily on her walking stick.

"Ravenclaw," Harry muttered. He placed a hand on Mark's shoulder, squeezing it gently. "You'll do well in that house, I'm sure. And I hate to say it, but Malfoy's right. You'd better hurry."

"All right," said Mark, swallowing his apparent fear. He hurried off towards Hagrid, who greeted him with a bone-crunching hug. Harry watched him leave, his smile widening.

"Harry!"

Hermione and Ron were pushing through the crowds towards him, waving frantically. There was a suspicious looking mark on the side of Ron's neck, but Harry was trying his best to ignore it.

"Give me a hug, you deserting prat," Hermione scolded him, throwing her arms around Harry's neck and giving him a quick kiss on the cheek. Ron thumped him on the back, looking nervous.

"How are you feeling, mate?" Ron asked. He cast a wary eye at Snape and McGonagall, who were standing inches away. "All better?"

Harry nodded. "I think so." He hid his cry of surprise with a cough as Hermione gave Malfoy a brief hug and swift kiss. Ron looked murderous. Snape chuckled quietly behind his hand.

"Good to see you, too, Granger," said Malfoy stonily, brushing hair out of his eyes. "I suppose Weasley didn't give you enough attention on the train ride?" He pointed to the mark on Ron's neck.

"Five points from Gryffindor," came Snape's voice from behind them.

"For what?" Harry demanded, though there was a smile twitching at the corners of his mouth. He knew that Snape was doing it just to annoy Ron, and it was working. Ron was glaring at Snape, jaw clenched, fingers flexing.

"Harry," Hermione whispered warningly, her eyes flicking between him and Snape. "I think you should keep quiet..."

"It's a joke, Hermione," Harry muttered to her. A shy Hufflepuff who had been in the DA last year greeted him as she walked past, and he waved. "Besides, sir, term hasn't officially started."

"Then that gives me the right to hex you into oblivion," Snape retorted. Hermione and Ron looked slightly alarmed, but Harry's lips curved into half a smile.

"You shouldn't have given me all that training, Professor. Now I know all your tricks." McGonagall, Harry noticed, was watching their conversation with an amused expression. She noticed a group of Gryffindor fourth-years gathered around a cardboard box that barked and jerked every once in awhile, and hurried off to reprimand the students.

"I've got a few more hidden up my sleeve, Potter."

"We'll just have to see about that later, once Dumbledore gives us permission."

"We'll see."

"Did you have a good summer, Harry?" Hermione asked once their conversation was done. Harry shrugged.

"Better than the Dursleys. Nothing out of the ordinary, I suppose." Harry saw Malfoy glance at him quickly, then look away. Yes, he wasn't planning on telling Ron and Hermione about Riddle House or any of the big things that had happened this summer. He didn't want their pity. "I took some duelling lessons"--here, Harry jerked his head at Snape--"and got my work done. I'm all set for term to start, I suppose."

Malfoy was smoothing back his hair as he spoke. "As much as I would enjoy spending time with you Gryffindors, I have to go get into that carriage with Blaise Zabini and those two Ravenclaws that stare at me in Arithmancy."

Hermione looked excited at the mention of inter-house friendships, but Ron snorted at the Slytherin's obvious affection he had for his own beauty. Snape seemed to be sharing Ron's thoughts, for he said, "Draco, if you must insist on displaying your thoughts on your own looks and charms, go show yourself off to the Ravenclaws. Empty-headed, both of them, but enjoy yourself. Merlin knows you need it."

Malfoy tipped an imaginary hat to the Potions Master, giving Hermione a playful bat of his eyelids. "Thank ye kindly, o' godfather. I'll see myself off." And he sauntered away.

"We'd better get a carriage, Harry," said Ron, tapping him on the shoulder. "We'll be stuck with the second-years if we don't hurry up, and one of them will probably goggle at you. No offence, 'course," he added hastily.

"None taken," said Harry dryly, as said second-year gazed almost adoringly at him from across the platform. "It's likely there'll be an empty one in the back. Shall we?"

Snape's hand rested on Harry's shoulder. "I would like a word with you, Mr. Potter, before you head up to the school."

Hermione and Ron looked at him, as though awaiting instructions. Harry waved his hand impatiently. "Go ahead. Just save a seat for me, all right?"

"Let's go," Hermione said quietly to Ron, taking him by the hand and tugging him towards the carriages. Harry turned to Snape once they were out of earshot.

"Well? What is it, Professor?"

Snape glanced about, his fingers itching to his wand. He slipped it into his sleeve, and whispered something in Latin under his breath. Purple sparks shot out of his fingertips, enveloping both himself and Harry in a bubble.

"Silencing Charm," Snape said, answering Harry's unspoken question. "You probably don't want this conversation to be heard. I wouldn't dare damage your reputation."

"I'm sure," said Harry tartly, causing Snape to smirk. "But seriously, what is it?"

"Are you ready?"

"For school?"

"Yes."

"I think so." Harry scratched his elbow absent-mindedly. "I think I'll be able to survive You-Know-Who's useless murder attempts this year, and I've been trying to deal with Sirius's death and Remus's work for the Order."

"I'm sure Lupin is fine," said Snape, attempting to sound comforting. It came out as somewhat whiny, and he winced. Harry smiled.

"Yes, Remus will be fine. Remus will be fine," Harry repeated, almost like a mantra. "I will, too. I think I'll live."

"Good. Now go, before Granger and Weasley are permanently attached at the lips for the rest of the trip."

Harry blanched. He had forgotten about that. Ron and Hermione, he supposed, were a couple now. That was going to be hell to deal with this year. Snape noticed it, but didn't say anything.

"Before I go, sir," Harry began after a quick thought, "I have a question for you."

"Be prompt, Potter, the carriages are about to leave."

"Would it be all right if I talked to you during school?"

Snape stared at him for a moment. "During Potions class, you mean?"

"No, I mean--well, I can't talk to Remus, and Ron and Hermione are going to be together all the time, and Dumbledore's too damn twinkly--"

"I understand, Mr. Potter," Snape cut in smoothly. He whispered another word, and the bubble disappeared. "Yes. You may visit, if the case calls for it."

"Thank you, sir."

"You're welcome, Potter."

Harry made a move to leave, but Snape grasped his shoulder.

"Stay free," he said softly, and then walked off without another word. Harry stared at him as he left. Stay free? What on earth was that supposed to mean? He shook his head. Too much to think about, and far too little time to ponder about it.

Harry rushed off past a group of seventh-years. He opened the door to the carriage he had seen Ron and Hermione climb into. Just as Snape had foreseen, their lips were swollen from kisses, their breathing harsh and ragged.

"Oh!" Hermione squealed with embarrassment, hiding her face in Ron's chest. "I'm terribly sorry, Harry--"

"I was expecting it," Harry broke in. "It's all right, Hermione. Really." He looked at Ron. "How's everything with you?"

"The twins made this new product for their shop," Ron answered, a broad grin on his face. "It's bloody brilliant..."

And as Ron went on, the carriage began to move. Harry listened with one ear, watching the scenery go by. He was ready for this year. Maybe he wasn't ready to accept his fate, but he sure as hell wasn't afraid of it anymore.