Resonance

Chapter 54 -- Distant Family

Harry was in a rush to leave Monday morning, having been slow getting ready to go. He crunched down a piece of toast and looked over a packet that had arrived by owl earlier that morning. He stopped to examine it even though he did not have the time. Pulling open the string revealed a parcel of letters. Harry glanced at the top one; it was from Skeeter, explaining that these were the best of the essays they had received at Witch Weekly and would he please let her know which he preferred. Or, it further said, tell her when she could schedule an interview that week with her American colleague before he returned to the States.

Harry folded the letter into his pocket and set the packet aside. "Gotta run," he mumbled to his guardian, after taking up another piece of toast. "See you this evening."

"Have a good day," Snape intoned as he sipped his coffee while reading the Prophet.

Harry spent the day wondering what he should do about Skeeter. He thought of asking Tonks' advice, but he didn't see her that day during training except once down a corridor when she looked to be in a hurry. The whole department seemed to be in action about something, although no one explained to the apprentices what it was and late that afternoon, Rodgers asked them to finish their last drills on their own.

They all agreed, and paired up as he dashed off. The workout room fell silent beyond the sizzle of spells. Harry concentrated on his modulation as Vineet ran through the sequences, randomizing occasionally from the normal order. They switched attackers and Harry ran the spell sequence back at his new friend. He always felt a little bad doing this as he could see the extreme effort the other man put into his Countering. Harry kept his attacks tempered for fear of injuring the other when his blocks failed. At a break, Vineet was, as usual, breathing heavily from the effort. Harry bit his lip and gave his partner an encouraging nod.

"Beating up on your fellows?" a familiar voice said from the doorway.

Harry turned and grinned as Snape entered. "Hello, sir."

Aaron came over to them with Kerry Ann trailing reluctantly behind. "Hello, Professor," he said in a friendly greeting.

"Mr. Wickem," Snape said in surprise, giving him one of those close lookings over. " You must have had a major life turnaround to have reached this point," Snape observed. "You didn't even sit for any N.E.W.T.s at Hogwarts as I recall."

Taken aback, Aaron said, "I did later." He shrugged a little sheepishly. "My dad hired tutors for me. . . for a few years. Then I took them."

"This is his fifth time applying," Kerry Ann contributed with a sparkle of mischievousness.

Snape still looked suspiciously at Aaron. "Well, you are to be commended for your persistence, I suppose."

Aaron, looking put out, said, "Did they just let you walk in here, sir?"

"There is no one around at the moment in the outer offices. But, in any event, I am friendly with Mr. Moody, who is the only one I would be concerned about encountering." Dismissing Aaron, he said to Harry. "I received this, this morning." He handed over a folded letter.

Harry turned away and opened it. It was a request from the Wizard Family Council for a one year interview to be conducted within two weeks. Harry folded it up again and handed it back.

"In the interest of responsiveness, I made an appointment for this afternoon. I assume you are finished here?"

"Yes, sir," Harry replied. "Let me get my things." Hurrying, Harry simply pulled a cloak around his workout piece. When he passed by the room again, his fellows were gathered in a tight cluster, talking in low tones. He gave them a wave and said he would see them tomorrow.

Down on the second floor, they checked in with a greetingwitch who directed them to the last office on the end. "Office" was a generous description for the very cramped space. Harry figured it would be easier to Apparate to get behind the desk. A stout witch with very long, black- and red-streaked hair looked up from copying notes onto a parchment form. "Ah, the four-fifteen, then, right?" As they stood in the doorway, she looked between them and beyond them, a little mystified. "I need to talk to the child . . ." she said.

Harry stepped into the small space between the desk and the wall where a low bench provided a seat. Faded pictures of laughing children on colorful broomsticks hung on the wall. A small shelf at desk level was lined with miniature rocking horses, except they were unicorns or centaurs, and a few dolls. "That would be me," he admitted with a touch of embarrassment.

"Right, then," she said slowly, opening the file on her desk without taking her eyes off him. She glanced inside the file with a look of consternation and, apparently recovering, said to Snape, "You'll be called in in about a quarter of an hour." She waved him off and he closed the door while backing into the corridor.

She clasped her black, neatly polished nails before her and said, "So, Ha-. . . Mr. Potter. I have a series of questions I need to ask you. Your answers won't be shared with anyone outside this office, including your guardian, so you should be as honest as possible." She gave him a patent smile as she took out a quill and opened her ink bottle. From one of the drawers she took out some child's blocks and placed them on opposite ends of a line marked on the desk. One had a yellow smiley face and the other one had a pink sad face with a small tear. She held out a small white pyramid to him.

Harry noticed the numbers along the line upside-down to him. "I can give you one to seven without those," he said.

She chuckled to herself. "Oh yes, probably you can." She scooped them off and put them away, for which Harry was grateful. She looked at her sheet and asked in an ultra-friendly voice, "From one to seven then, where seven is very happy, how happy are you to be living with your adoptive family?"

"Seven."

She noted that. "Give me an example of something in the last year that made you happy." She waited with quill poised as Harry hesitated, thinking. In a prompting voice, she said, "Seven is a very strong response."

"Yeah," Harry agreed, holding himself from fidgeting. He was very happy, but "why" was a harder question to answer than he imagined. "It's a lot of little things," he said, mostly to stall.

"Such as?"

Parties with my friends and pink stomach medicine, Harry almost said, since that came to mind. Sleeping potion at night when he had problems with dreams sounded like an even worse answer as well as did having someone to come fetch him when he flew off and crashed. Frantically generalizing that, he said, "Having someone to take care of me."

She looked a little doubtful, but made a note of that. Feeling defensive, Harry added, "I've never before had someone I could go to who I knew wasn't going to turn me away."

"That is the main reason for answering seven?"

"That and having someone to talk to," Harry stated. At her more doubtful look, he explained, "Not many people are willing to discuss Voldemort."

She moved on very quickly to the next question. "Do you have a room of your own?" When he nodded, she asked, "How do you like it?"

"Six."

"Not seven?"

"The window is small, but that is normal for the house."

"Are you kept to a regular bedtime?"

"Yes," Harry confirmed. "Mostly."

"How much work are you given around the house?"

"None. I get scolded when I do any," he replied. At her look of surprise, he explained, "I'm informed, repeatedly, that the house-elf is supposed to do most things. I do the gardening because I like to get outside sometimes. I don't get scolded for that anymore."

"Ah," she said knowingly. "Never lived with an elf myself," she said flatly. Harry could not interpret her tone. She moved on before he could decode her reaction. "Think of the most severe time you were punished in the last year. Got it?"

"Uh, yep."

"How happy are you with the fairness of it?"

Harry thought about coming home drunk and Snape's reaction to that. He also thought of the day after the four Death Eaters attacked and only now realized that earlier Snape had totally backed down. Harry recalled the incident starkly; the disappointment, anger, and even distress he had caused his guardian had felt like punishment at the time. Harry hadn't felt that this time--Snape had been been unhesitatingly harsh, but Harry probably should not have gotten into such a state. "Six," he finally replied, then remembered how unfair the false accusation about the prank had felt, but he didn't amend his answer.

"What was the punishment?" she asked.

"Uh, a stern talking to," Harry supplied.

"What did you do to deserve it?"

Harry didn't feel like admitting he had come home pissed. He chose to consider the previous incident last summer. He looked down at her notes. "How confidential is that?"

"Very."

"Inside the Ministry even?" Harry queried.

"They are reviewed by my superior and by the council if there is a question."

"Just put down that I disobeyed then," Harry said.

"Does that happen often?" she asked with a sour expression.

"No, not at all," he replied and immediately wondered at that. He did not consider himself the obedient sort. Harry had grown warm in the cramped office so he pushed his cloak off one shoulder.

"Are you obedient the rest of the time?" she asked a little sarcastically.

"I don't think so. I agree that I messed up, that's why I think it fair."

She was looking him over now, frowning at his outfit. "Just out of curiosity, what is that you're wearing."

Harry glanced down and frowned at himself. "I came straight from training," he explained. "I'm in the Auror's program." He flipped the cloak off his other shoulder, exposing the Ministry patch on the upper breast, of a glowing wand across a broken, black pentagram.

She blinked at it. "You're an Auror's apprentice?" At his nod, she said. "One could assume you could take care of yourself, then."

"I like having a family and a home," Harry retorted in a hard tone.

She smiled lightly. "That wasn't what I meant," she said gently. "I meant it with regard to this interview which is intended to assure that the council has not made a placement in error." She turned the parchment over. "The next few questions are a little more difficult. Has anyone in your adoptive family ever asked you to lie about something that happened?"

"Yes." At her concerned expression, he added, "But only so the previous Minister of Magic could take credit for it." He added a little smile. "And we are back to the reason that I got punished."

"I see," she said a little quietly. She scratched her cheek thoughtfully and said, "Has your guardian ever physically harmed or threatened to harm you?"

"No." Not since he has been my guardian, Harry silently amended.

She gestured at the door. "Ask him to come in, then."

Harry stood with effort from the low bench and opened the door. Snape was leaning against the far wall, looking grim. Harry wondered at that. "She wants to see you." Snape didn't meet Harry's gaze as he followed him back in. They sat side by side on the bench, with Harry having to consciously not look at Snape in concern over his mood. He wished he had some clue as to what what was bothering him all of a sudden.

"Mr. Snape," the casewitch said. "You fall into our "D" category of adopting adults because you have no other children, you are single, and you are male. The only category lower would involve non-human heritage."

Harry looked up sharply but held his tongue. If it had been Hagrid adopting him, he would have given them hell for that. Snape seemed to withdraw farther as she spoke. Harry heard something in her tone now that had been absent before; it spoke of knowing more than she wished to.

When Snape looked over at Harry finally, she interjected in a formal tone, "We can send Mr. Potter out for this conversation if you wish."

Snape hesitated before replying, "It is not necessary."

"As you wish," she said. "How would you describe the quality of your own home life as a child?"

Snape stared at his fingers and answered stiffly, "Poor."

Harry closed his eyes a long moment, wishing this were not happening, and thinking that Snape must have seen this coming. The casewitch went on. "That is another mark against you, I'm afraid. And how would you describe your own abilities as a parent?"

Quietly, Snape said, "I am usually out of my depth."

Harry stared at him, stunned. The casewitch looked self-satisfied. "That's not true," Harry argued vehemently.

"You are not the best judge of quality parenting, Potter," Snape pointed out.

Harry yearned to shout at him for what seemed like disloyalty to what they had. Angry now, Harry said, "What difference does it make, as long as I'm getting what I need?"

"Are you?" the casewitch asked.

"Yes," Harry replied insistently. Snape's unexpected uncertainty was making him panic. He wondered where the obnoxiously confident wizard he had expected to come in had gone off to.

Snape straightened and crossed his arms. "Although confident I can do better than your relatives . . " he said with an unexpected, deep-seated anger, ". . . I am rarely certain I am doing the right thing for you."

"Like when?" Harry demanded.

"A hundred times a day, Harry," he insisted evenly, coldly.

Harry put his hand on his forehead. "I have no sense of that."

The casewitch cleared her throat. "Constantly questioning your decisions is not a sign of bad parenting, quite the opposite."

Shaken by what Snape was saying, Harry said stridently, "Severus, you are the only reason I'm in one piece right now." He gestured at the wall beside him and the rest of the Ministry beyond. "I found out last week that Sirius never got off the Ministry wanted list. A year ago that would have sent me over the edge."

"Part of that is simply maturing, Potter."

"And you don't think you had anything to do with that?" Harry asked loudly, sarcastically, voice booming in the tiny room.

"Hey there!" the casewitch interjected sharply. They both fell silent and Snape closed his mouth on whatever retort he was preparing. She gave them a smile. "You are clearly doing fine," she said as she made a note on the bottom of the parchment before her. "Both of you." Snape straightened and looked away.


Back in their own dining room, Harry, his voice pained, asked, "Why didn't you say something before?"

"I assumed it was obvious," Snape replied as he put his gloves into the pocket of his cloak. Harry watched him unhook it and swing it off to hang it up.

"I'm very happy here with you," Harry said. "I thought that was obvious."

Snape considered him before challenging, "There is nothing you would change?"

Harry's shoulders fell. Hesitantly, he replied, "I wish you weren't going back to Hogwarts in September, but I understand you have to."

Snape stared at him. "That is all? Your complaint is that you wish me to be around more?" His tone of disbelief had a bit of his normal sneer to it; Harry was happy to hear it.

"Yes," Harry insisted defensively.

Snape shook his head as though to clear it. In his normal tone of slight impatience he said, "Your birthday is at the end of the week. I keep expecting you to ask if you can hold a party."

"I just had one for getting into the Auror's program," Harry pointed out.

"You are turning eighteen, Potter. Multiple parties in one month should hardly be viewed as excessive by one your age. The alternative is a nice dinner out, just Candide and one of your companions, whichever is in favor at the moment."

Harry wanted to argue that last comment, but held back because the combative atmosphere had just faded. "That would be fine."

Snape said, "I admit to preferring something quiet myself, but it is truly your choice. Especially since my father wishes to visit and I told him Thursday."

"A nice dinner out would be great. The last one was very nice," said Harry primly. Snape nodded a bit formally and left the room, leaving Harry feeling strangely disconnected, given how much had finally been said.

---------------

The moment Harry had been dreading finally arrived with the tapping of the door knocker the next evening. Moving reluctantly, Harry went downstairs to let Skeeter and Olsen in. Skeeter was wearing a violet robe, but Olsen was in khakis and a pale blue button-down shirt. He looked around keenly at the house as Harry led them into the drawing room. Snape appeared immediately as they took seats.

"Do you want me here for this?" he asked Harry.

"No, that's all right," Harry said easily.

Snape looked the two over with mild suspicion. Olsen said, "Your guardian, Mr. Potter?" He stood up and held a hand out to Snape who accepted it with clear doubt about him.

"Yes," Harry replied.

"Would it be all right to ask you a few questions at the end?" he asked Snape.

"Unless they were very good questions, no," Snape sneered and actually managed to startle the man slightly.

Olsen recovered quickly and said, "I'll think of some," as though making a promise.

Snape departed with a last glance at each of them. Olsen pulled out his pad and started to ask something, only to stop as Winky brought in tea. "Is that a house-elf?" he asked in amazement.

"Yes," Harry replied. "You've never seen one?"

"There aren't many in the U.S., so no." Winky bowed and departed after pouring. "I thought only old wizarding families had them?"

"That's mostly true," Skeeter replied, pushing her hair back with her long painted nails.

"This is an old wizarding family," Harry pointed out.

"Aren't you an orphan?" Olsen countered, sounding concerned.

"I've been adopted into an old family."

Olsen still looked concerned. "Yes, but hasn't part of this fight been about the difference between pureblooded wizardry and mixed wizardry?"

"You mean the lack of difference?" Harry asked.

Olsen waved his hand, "Well . . . yes." He jotted something down on his notepad, looking confused. He read over some pages of his notes and asked, "So, what I really want to get at for my article series is, who is Harry Potter?"

Skeeter, sitting with pen poised as well, didn't seem to think this odd. "Who did Ms. Skeeter tell you I was?" Harry asked. He pushed the plate over to the other side of the small table. "Want a biscuit?"

"Oh, sure," Olsen said. He held one up. "Looks like a cookie. Good though," he said munching as he talked. "What did Skeeter say? Well, nothing I can pull together easily. It's a good story though: the orphan left on a doorstep, doesn't know he's a wizard but it turns out not only is he a pretty darn good one, he is supposed to save the world from evil." He flipped through his notebook yet again. "But everyone knows the comic book story and it doesn't say much about you except you have a lot of dumb luck. And bad luck. Where I come from, we don't put much stock in prophecies." His derisive look was back again.

Harry sat thoughtfully before saying, "I did what I was supposed to do. I didn't have any choice."

"Your duty," Olsen said almost playfully. "Like a Gilbert and Sullivan character."

Harry's eyes narrowed, but something about that had struck an exposed nerve. "I'm real," he insisted.

"That's good," Olsen said. "What do you value?" he shot out quickly.

Harry thought that over. "Not being hunted down by dark wizards."

Olsen tilted his head. "That wasn't what I meant. What motivates you every day? What drives you to take action?"

"I want to learn more magic, powerful magic. That's why I'm in the Aurors program."

"For what use?" Olsen returned, sounding diligent.

"So evil can't rise again," Harry replied a little snappishly.

Olsen bent over his notepad and breathed, "Now we are getting somewhere."

The interview went on in this vein, with Harry eventually finding the right way to answer the questions, but only after having most rephrased. It was a little exhausting, although Olsen didn't show it at all.

" . . . and speaking of your guardian," Olsen said as Snape came to hover in the doorway some time later. "Willing to answer a few questions, Mr. Snape?"

"Professor," Skeeter corrected him.

Olsen turned to her. "I thought he taught high school?"

"Still 'professor'," Skeeter said.

"Sorry 'bout that, Professor. Please," he indicated the chair.

"What is your question?" Snape asked, not moving except to cross his arms and stare more fiercely down his nose.

"I've been trying to figure out this unrealistically altruistic young man here that we all owe so much to. I guess I would ask you why you waited so long to adopt him and why you finally did."

"There is no simple answer to that," Snape said, dismissing it.

Undeterred, insistently went on, "But, in talking to Harry, it is clear he values this admittedly late family very highly."

Snape looked the man over. "Harry's situation changed drastically after Voldemort's defeat. I adopted him as soon as it was realistic to do so, from many perspectives."

"Not sorry you didn't do so sooner?" Olsen returned.

Soberly, Snape replied, "It would not have worked out sooner."

"And you don't care to tell me why . . . " Olsen prodded.

"Goodness, no," Snape stated. To Harry he said, "Almost finished here?"

Olsen interjected, "What do you think motivates Harry?"

Snape appeared to consider this. "His sense of fairness." As Olsen jotted this down, Snape demanded, "Are you finished now?"

"I just need a picture or two. Or Rita, you said you had some stock shots?"

Coyly, she said, "I have some recent ones of Harry in a smashing little outfit. . . "

Harry groaned.

As they departed, Olsen said, "Very pleased to meet you, Harry. I'll owl you my drafts for your comments in a few days."

"All right," Harry replied, trying not to sound surprised. Skeeter waved a vigorous goodbye as she opened the garden gate. Harry shut the door and said to Snape, "You think he'll really send a draft? Skeeter never does that."

"I don't know why he would say that, otherwise."

Back in the main hall, Harry asked, "Do you think agreeing to that was a really bad idea?"

Snape sighed. "I did not particularly like the interviewer, but he did not seem to harbor any ill will toward you."

"And he paid seventy-five Galleons for it."

Snape looked taken aback, but said, "And you refer to me as Lockhart." After more thought, he said, "I'm afraid in this you will have to find your own path as I have little experience with it. I trust you have enough sense now to not get taken advantage of. Or if you do, it will be a lesson well-learned."

---------------

Thursday evening, Harry put on his new dress robes and tried to comb his hair down. It needed to be cut, he realized, but that would have to wait. Trying to put on an optimistic mind for their guests, Harry stepped into the library and pulled out a book to pass the minutes until Shazor and his second wife, Gretta, arrived for dinner.

Snape stepped into the doorway a minute later, looked Harry over quickly, and appeared to relax marginally. "Fortunately, they only visit once a year," he grumbled. After a moment's thought and an uneasy glance around the room, he quickly asked, "You don't consider them to be any kind of grandparent figures, do you?"

"No," Harry easily admitted, seeing Snape's vaguely distasteful expression.

"Good," Snape breathed.

"Candide isn't coming to dinner?" Harry asked.

"I wasn't considering subjecting her to them," Snape explained. "She would undoubtedly feel differently, just so you understand." The doorknocker sounded, drawing him away.

Harry got up and waited in the hall. Shazor came in, looking greyer and more imposing than Harry had remembered. Gretta was all smiles behind him.

"Harry!" she nearly wailed in greeting and surged upon him, bracelets jangling. Harry resisted backing up as his cheeks were patted. "My, my, my, my, my," she marveled. "Look at you. You have grown into something . . . else." She turned him bodily as though to show him off. "Hasn't he, dear?"

Shazor stepped over and gave Harry a looking over. "He's a bit taller," he said dismissively.

"Don't listen to that," Gretta whispered. "You are something to see, my dear. And that picture on the cover of Witch Weekly didn't do you an ounce of justice, which I wouldn't have imagined." She continued on as they moved to the drawing room for drinks, "And they had more letters from that little essay contest. Have you chosen one yet?" she asked eagerly.

"I haven't seen them," Harry said, uncertain how to explain that he was blackmailed into an interview and the payout was not having to read them. Skeeter assured him that she would pick a winner and only needed to have a thing or two autographed for prizes.

Gretta accepted a glass of something smoky over ice and sipped it. "Oh, did we remember the gift?" she asked her husband.

Shazor, with a flat expression, removed a small box from his pocket. Gretta grabbed it up and handed it to Harry with a "Happy birthday!" and a doting smile. Harry hesitated before opening it right then. Inside was a mechanical cricket in an oversized painted matchbox. Holding it gingerly, Harry held it up to the lamp.

"What is it?" he asked curiously.

"It predicts the weather," Shazor explained.

Gretta added, "There are instructions on the bottom of the box."

Harry turned the box over and peered at the very tiny diagrams on the bottom. While the others talked about the vote and Bones' expected policy changes, Harry followed the instruction for determining the wind the next day at noon. He placed the little metal insect down on the table beside him and faced it north, then when it chirped once, he tapped it with his finger. It chirped six times and hopped northwest.

Harry, thinking of planning trips on broomstick, waited for a break in the conversation to ask how accurate the cricket was.

"Very accurate," Gretta assured him. "Especially about rain."

"That is because it always rains," Shazor pointed out snidely before turning back to Severus and continuing on about some obscure Muggle Obliviating policy.

Harry tried out a few more of its predictions about temperature and precipitation before putting it back away. It was rather beautifully painted with glassy onyx bead eyes. "Thanks," he mouthed to Gretta as he set it aside on the table and opened a butterbeer for himself. She smiled broadly back before listening in politely to the conversation.

By the time dinner arrived, Harry was quite hungry. Winky had outdone herself in making a roast duck with a crispy brown skin surrounded by a ring of colorful vegetables.

"You managed to find a rather fine replacement for your other elf," Shazor said, sounding jealous.

"Harry did that," Severus explained.

"Ah," Shazor muttered, almost dismissively. Harry pondered as he ate, whether the man assumed Harry could do that easily, whether Harry had just been lucky, or whether it meant something else. Harry eventually served himself the other duck leg and decided he didn't care.

After dinner, Harry really wanted to excuse himself to do some reading. This being his birthday weekend, he was not going to get much reading done later. He bit his lip and wondered how to go about that. Severus' eyes flickered over to Harry after the coffee materialized. "Do you have studies to attend to?"

Harry nodded gratefully and stood up. Gretta made a disappointed sound, but Snape explained that Harry had quite a lot of reading for each session of his training. Harry said goodnight and after fetching his books from the library headed to his room where he very gently closed the door. With relief he spread out everything on the bed, sat back propped up on a pile of pillows, and continued the chapter he had started before dinner on basic Muggle police procedure.

Down in the dining room, Severus was considering having another glass of sherry as a means of easing the evening along.

Shazor set his coffee down and smoothed the tablecloth out with his long hand. "How is the boy's training progressing?"

Severus almost snapped that Harry was not a boy, but held back by reminding himself that he still referred to Harry that way with his fellow teachers at Hogwarts. "He is doing startlingly well, even given that I am very familiar with his ability to learn new magics. His trainer, fortunately, works him very hard; according to Harry, harder than his peers, which I am quite pleased to know."

A little airily Shazor asked, "It is all inherited, though, correct, these skills?"

Severus refused to be baited. Casually, he replied, "I assume. His parents both were rather good at magic or they would not have survived to have him."

Shazor set his empty cup down with a light clatter in the saucer. Winky appeared in a sparkle, pot in hand, to pour him another steaming cup before sparkling away again. Severus had to work hard not to grin crookedly at his father's taken-back, unwillingly pleased expression. "The rest of the Wizarding community does think the world of him. He is starting to finally appear to deserve it," Shazor commented when he had recovered.

Severus felt himself to be looking into a mirror, though a distorted one. The memory of his own jealous reaction to Harry felt like a poison he had swallowed that was still working on him, albeit slowly. "If you are wondering if I take credit for it, I will inform you that I do not. To my mind he is merely an ordinary teenager." Severus silently considered that that in itself was a triumph.

"Unusually humble of you, Severus," Shazor stated, sounding as though he were trying for sarcastic. With his coffee at his mouth, he muttered, "Does seem unlikely to be your doing."

Gretta filled in the ensuing silence. "He is a lovely young man. It is a wonder the house isn't filled with lovely girls seeking his attention," she marveled.

Severus did pour himself more sherry. "A few intrepid ones do brave their way in. I don't believe Harry wishes to be distracted from his training, although given time he may change his mind about that."

Much later in Harry's room, a light knock sounded on the door before Snape opened it and leaned in. "Do you want me to come down to say goodbye?" Harry asked.

"Yes."

Down in the hall, Harry tolerated a pinch on the cheek and a hug from Gretta, followed by a perfunctory shake of the hand from Shazor. "Good luck with your training, Mr. Potter," Shazor intoned.

"Thank you, sir," replied Harry while wondering why the man had gone so formal.

The pair departed and Snape returned from showing them out. He passed Harry with a strange expression on the way to the drawing room.

"Everything all right?" Harry asked his back.

"Yes, quite," Snape replied dismissively without turning around.

Harry started to accept that, but then followed into the room. "You're certain?"

Snape stood from arranging files on the side table, seeming surprised to find Harry there. He looked Harry over more appraisingly, which Harry had grown unused to. It made him feel uneasy as well as curious about what he had missed. "Quite certain," Snape stated reassuringly, eyes narrowing momentarily as he continued to study Harry, although his gaze didn't look threatening, more oddly affectionate. "You should return to your studies as you will not have much time this weekend, I believe."

Harry could spot a diversion that obvious, but shrugged. He picked up the box containing his painted cricket before he moved to the doorway and turned back. Brushing a bit of fuzz from his dress robes, he asked, "I didn't displease your dad or something, did I?"

"By. No. Means," Snape stated. "Go back to your studies, Harry," he repeated.

"All right," Harry breathed, giving in.