Resonance

Chapter 71 -- Arms of the Angels

Friday, very late in the evening, about the time Harry was getting ready to go to his room, Franklin appeared at the window and scratched at the pane. Harry let the owl in and it dropped a letter on the table where he had seconds before cleared away his studies for the night. Franklin flapped up to a chair back and stepped, as though nervous, from one post of it to the other. When he finally paused, Harry picked up the letter, making the bird shift from one foot to the other and cock an eye at him as though to gauge him.

Only Harry's name was on the envelope. He opened it and read: Dearest Harry, and swallowed hard. I find that I need to convey some things more strongly to you than I did before my hurried departure for Hogwarts. The next sentence had been written after a pause; Harry could tell this because the angle and shape of the writing changed at that point. I am sorry for the manner in which I treated you over the last week, and before. I am finding it most strange to be reminded of wishing to hurt you, and I wish I did not. You deserve far better and I believe the balance between us was already too tilted toward my vitriol, leaving me even farther behind in evening things out.

Harry paused to argue aloud, "We're even." He sat down with the letter and rubbed his hair back and forth as he continued.

I do truly hope you were honest and correct in your assessment of my inability to strike anything vulnerable in you. It was very wise of you not to reveal anything that could be turned against you. You did not always do this and I am heartened to see that you have learned to. What pains me most to remember is your offer to start again. Had you tried, I flinch at how much you would have been put through on my stubborn-minded account. It was consideration I did not deserve.

I promise to be more careful. I do remember a time when it was necessary to scrutinize every shadow and every sideways look for enemies. I will do so again. Yours, Severus.

Harry put the letter aside, wishing Snape had not felt the need to send it. Somehow, it revealed less understanding between them and more uncertainty than Harry felt there was. He penned a quick letter back and gave it to Franklin, who had finally settled down. In it he said, I cannot have given up on you. Rest assured that beyond my concern that the charm might be long term, I wasn't under any real threat. Harry stared at the letter; it sounded too cold and isolated, but he imagined Snape might scoff at anything more intimate--his Snape, the one who could hurt him very easily. Harry added, You are my family, Severus. There is nothing I wouldn't do to preserve that.

* * *

By hand, Snape adjusted the position of the stout, hickory cabinet in the corner of his office. He had found it in one of the castle's attics and although it was small and a bit ugly, its construction was solid. Its former owner must have used it to hold his or her pipe smoking paraphernalia because the top surface showed flares of black burn marks. That was all right; a dangerous ingredient cabinet invariably got stained if not worse.

Snape checked it for existing spells but any spells it held in the past had weakened too much to do more than sparkle. He carefully layered on a new set and checked that the lock functioned before moving anything into it. It wouldn't hold many containers, but at least it would hold the ones most in need of protection from prying student hands.

He had just finished stocking and securing the cabinet and had stepped back from it when a shout and a high-pitched scream sounded from the corridor. Snape was out of the door in an instant, wand in hand, pausing only to get a sense of direction as another squeal sounded. At the second bend just at the staircase, three first-year students were huddling in an alcove as Peeves pelted them with balloons full of something thick and sticky.

"Peeves! Stop it!" a voice shouted. It was Ginny Weasley, brandishing her wand and her voice with authority. Peeves gave her a raspberry and then mooned her, which made her wand waver in surprise.

"Peeves," Snape commanded, catching the Poltergeist's attention away. Ginny looked relieved to have help. "Off with you. NOW." Peeves turned in fast circles, chanting a twisted nursery rhyme. The first-years were removing their robes. Whatever it was had soaked through to their white shirts. "What is it?" Snape asked.

One of the boys sniffed at it. "Honey, I think," he replied in surprise while trying to rub it off, which only made his robe stick to his hand.

"Peeves, my next stop will be the dungeon to fetch the Baron," Snape threatened.

Peeves stopped circling wildly and slinked away with one last raspberry over his shoulder.

Ginny approached. "Why doesn't the school just get rid of him, Professor?"

"He isn't a thing to be rid of. He is a manifestation of the stresses and mental disturbances of the students. We could get rid of the students," he suggested snidely with a raised brow.

"Oh. I suppose that wouldn't work then," Ginny admitted before moving to help the first-years down to the Prefects bathroom to clean up.

One of the girls was complaining. "Why did Peeves do that? We weren't bothering him."

Snape returned to his office and his task of organizing his old ingredient cabinet. As he reached for the jar of essence of feather star, he paused, almost certain he had not left it so close to the edge of the shelf, even given that he had set it down in a hurry. Turning suddenly, he considered checking the corridor, but then remembered it was empty when he arrived. Peeves behavior now seemed more like a distraction than an accident. He quickly finished arranging the cabinet, grateful that the most dangerous ingredients had already been put aside.

Down in the dungeon, Snape found the Bloody Baron playing a game of chess with a nervous-looking second-year. The boy looked up hopefully at Snape who assumed the boy had gotten himself into the match and could get out of it on his own. Usually the Baron kept playing until you beat him; hopefully the boy was halfway decent at chess.

"Baron, I need you to do something for me," said Snape. When the ghost swooped up to attention, showing his silver stained front to full advantage, Snape commanded, "Come with me." In an empty dungeon classroom, Snape closed the door and said to the hovering figure. "I want you to question Peeves about what prompted him to create a disturbance just now. It may be nothing more than my own renewed paranoia, but I wish to know if he was urged on by a student . . . or even one of the staff," he added, thinking of Greer.

The Baron saluted and sailed off through the ceiling. Snape returned to his office and straightened up his grading, checking that the grade books were still stored as they had been. The Slytherin ghost returned and bowed as he emerged through the floor. Soberly, he reported, "Peeves insists he simply found the balloons sitting in a box by the staircase."

"That's all, Baron. Good day to you," Snape dismissed the ghoulish figure.

The ghost bowed again and simultaneously floated backward through the closed door. Snape was reminded of annoyingly meddlesome students past, one of whom he had adopted. He shook his head and carefully put everything away to leave for dinner.

* * *

Harry received notice on a Monday morning that on the following Wednesday the Wizengamot would consider his petition. The scheduled time was during his morning training, but he assumed Rodgers would let him leave for it. The department was getting busy now with holiday plans and others were skipping out to take care of important errands or to greet out-of-town visitors at the station, so his absence might not be noticed.

In the lift, a wanted poster for Avery was wired to the inside of the gate door. During the long trip to the second level, Harry watched the Death Eater's nervous-eyed face glancing side to side. The photograph looked to have been taken at a garden party, since people kept entering the frame holding drinks with ice in them and wearing white, wide-brimmed, pointed hats.

Harry noticed that the lift had stopped quite a while ago and the lift door had long since unlatched. He slid it aside and stepped out and down the corridor to the training room. Tonks was in the corridor speaking with Kerry Ann and Vineet. She handed Harry a notice. "We received this memo regarding your hearing," he said in her now usual flat tone. Kerry Ann frowned but immediately spoke brightly to Vineet saying, "We'll stop by this evening if that's all right. Have a little welcome party. Harry, can you make it this evening?"

Harry had tentative plans to have Belinda over for dinner some night that week, but her work often kept her late so she did not want to make a firm date. Harry, despite finding himself doing so a few times, did not want to sit at home and wait for her to have time to do something. "Sure," he answered easily. "Did Nandi arrive?" Vineet nodded solemnly, prompting Harry to congratulate him.

Rodgers came over then and the conversation ceased and they moved inside and took their seats.

"We're going to do some . . . yes, Potter?" He stopped because Harry had his hand up, school style.

"Any word on Avery?" Harry asked factually.

"No. I'll be sure to have you owled . . . I know you have a special interest," he stated, not quite sarcastically, and then went on with an overview of illicit objects and why they were regulated. He had a few examples in a box, but for many he drew on the chalkboard. "Now this is an interesting one." He drew a long round spike on the board. "Freezing Stick. Cursed object used semi-legally in Australia during a hunt to bring down and automatically refrigerate game. A few of these turn up every year, it seems. Mostly dangerous because people bring them back and they fall into the hands of someone who doesn't know what it does. Adds a few cases to Mungo's casualty lists every year. Fortunately, most Freezing Sticks work so well, Mungo's simply has to thaw you out." Holding up an ordinary bed pillow, he said, "This is a Lethipillow, not because it contains a Lethifold, but simply because it kills you in your sleep. No good way to identify these, but if you find someone dead in their bed, good thing to check for. Next, we have . . . "

Harry took notes on each object along with his fellows. The fact that they were doing lecture first thing usually meant Rodgers would be out, leaving them to drill on their own. And indeed this turned out to be the case.

Just before 4:00, Kerry Ann urged them all to head over to Vineet's. Harry urged the opposite and suggested running through their least favorite incarceration drills. "I'm not partnering with you then," Aaron complained to Harry.

"Come on," Harry urged, "Avery is out there right now, don't you want to be ready if you come upon him?"

"He's only after you, Harry," Kerry Ann teased.

"I wish he was only after me," Harry breathed. "I'd be fine with that."

They agreed to run a few drills and once they got going went on almost an hour more. Harry was better at most of these spells than the others, so after Kerry Ann complained about the tightness of his Mummifying Jinx, Harry stood off to the side and offered suggestions. Vineet as usual was having difficulty with consistency; one spell would be far too much, such as a chain-binding curse with one-foot long links that clattered to the floor under its own weight and the next a perfectly acceptable version. He had taken to biting his lips a lot as he drilled. Kerry Ann and Aaron got into a serious competition to see who could produce the deepest Treacle Track Curse on the other and by the time they stopped, the floor was shoe-deep in sticky goo which it was nearly unanimously decided Harry should scourgify since the drills had been his idea.

Vineet's flat was in Greenwich. "Ever been?" Kerry Ann asked Harry. When Harry shook his head, she took charge, saying, "Well, we can all take the Floo to a shop that I know there. We'll meet you at your flat, Vineet."

Vineet nodded and Disapparated on the spot. The rest of them had to go down to the atrium where Bones seemed to be holding a press conference. At the sight of Skeeter and company, Harry slipped along the wall from the lifts and took the long way around to the hearths, skirting around behind the small crowd. He caught a glimpse of Belinda standing to the side in a nice line with Bones' other staff, but there didn't seem to be any way to wave to her that would not risk catching anyone else's attention, especially the Minister's. Harry's fellows were waiting for him before the first hearth, hands on hips, gazing at him oddly. Harry didn't try to explain as they took turns in the Floo.

During the longish walk from the flower shop, Kerry Ann said apologetically, "I think I goofed up, Harry." When Harry asked her why she thought that, she explained, "I let slip to Tonks that you had a date with Belinda. Normally I don't gossip about my friends, really, but the topic of keeping the Minister's office happy came up and it just slipped out. I didn't think anything wrong with it, but Tonks didn't look happy to hear it and I see she's still snappish with you." After a half of a block, she added, "I didn't know anything was going on between you two. Usually I notice things like that."

Aaron suddenly became unusally interested in their conversation. "Nothing is going on between us. Not that I know of." Harry stated this firmly, hoping to squash her line of thinking.

At the door to the flat, Kerry Ann held the bottle of port wine she had insisted on stopping for on the way over. She handed it over to a slightly befuddled Vineet when he opened the door.

"Nice place," Kerry Ann said, as she stepped into the airy second-floor flat. A small dark-skinned woman ,with shoulder-length hair so black it glistened blue, stood in the sitting room they had entered, looking pensive. "You must be Nandi," Kerry Ann said brightly while Aaron and Harry trailed behind.

Vineet stepped in. "Yes, my wife," he stated. "These are my fellow trainees at the Ministry," he informed Nandi, and then went through introducing each of them. When he got to Harry, she made an exclamation and said, "My Vishnu has such impressive friends."

"Please, sit down," Vineet insisted, gesturing at a white chesterfield behind them. He then insisted on fetching tea while Nandi took a seat. She sat very primly, hands folded in her lap, but her eyes kept straying to Harry.

Kerry Ann made small talk about Nandi's trip until Vineet brought the tray. The teapot he set before Nandi, so that she could use a spell to heat it. Nandi did so with a tap of her wand, and with a sigh said, "I am surprised my Vishnu's magic has not gotten any stronger during his training."

Uh oh, Harry thought. Vineet's lips had drawn thin as he poured for everyone, but he didn't speak. Everyone on the chesterfield shuffled their arms around and tried to appear nonchalant. The visit ended some time later with Kerry Ann insisting upon taking Nandi to her favorite shops that weekend and Harry and Aaron shooting looks of uncertainty at their fellow apprentice.

* * *

Rather than sleeping, Harry lay in his bed staring at the ceiling. He felt cold even though the hearth was burning high. Closing his eyes, he tried to drift and find the green world and its shadows, but it was ellusive, perhaps because he was trying too hard. It was difficult not to. Snape's attacker had not been found and lying there late at night with the cold darkness enveloping most of the room, that felt painfully unacceptable. Frustrated, Harry rose from his bed and began to dress with purpose. He put on his thickest woolen Molly Weasley jumper and wool pants as though expecting to be out in the cold for quite some time. When he finished dressing, however, his spirits dampened, and downstairs, while standing before the Floo when he could have announced any destination, he asked for the Ministry of Magic.

"What are you doing here, Potter?" Rodgers asked when he stepped into the office and found Harry sitting at Tonks' desk, his head resting on his arm.

Harry sat straight, feeling anxious for no good reason. "I couldn't sleep," he tiredly explained, tried to explain more, then gave up.

Rodgers put down the file he had been carrying and with a sigh pulled over the nearby chair. "Something gnawing at you?"

"Avery," Harry replied with an aching wish that the Death Eater were before him now so he could simply take him down and be rid of him off to Azkaban.

Rodgers rubbed his hands together before asking, "You can see him somehow, right?" When Harry nodded, Rodgers went on, "Can you see him now?"

Harry closed his tired eyes, thought of his soft pillow waiting at home, and found the green world easily this time. A shadow hovered, but it wasn't particularly close. "Yes," Harry answered. "But he feels distant."

Rodgers stood suddenly and gestured for Harry to follow. "Put on your cloak . . . I want to try something."

Harry obeyed with clumsy motions. Despite his aching, undefined anxiety, he now wished he were back home in bed. Rodgers waited for him to shrug his cloak around himself before grabbing his arm and Disapparating both of them.

They were suddenly in an alleyway. Their arrival had startled something which now scurried frantically over the spilled rubbish piled against the wall beside them. "How about now?" Rodgers keenly asked.

Harry closed his eyes and tried to relax enough to find that green world again. It took him a long time, and he was surprised at his trainer's patience while he worked at it. When the forest with its towering trees appeared in his mind, the shadow was skulking in the distance, still just at the edge of Harry's vision. "No difference," Harry informed his trainer.

Rodgers grabbed his arm again and this time they reappeared somewhere where city lights didn't encroach in the least. The stars glared though gaps in the clouds and highlighted the edges in silver. Hulking pitch-black piles loomed around them. "Where are we?" Harry whispered, his voice sucked into the darkness.

"An abandoned pit. Try again," Rodgers instructed.

Harry did so. If there was any change in the shadow, it wasn't enough to be certain about. "No. Still a long way off."

They repeated the process four more times, until Harry's ears hurt from the pop! of air that hit each time they arrived somewhere new. The next time they Disapparated they reappeared back at the Ministry.

"Not the most useful skill," Rodgers commented dryly, although not impatiently.

"It saved my life when Malfoy came to take revenge at our house," Harry explained defensively. He was frustrated and his underlying worry was starting to wear him thin. Forcing himself calm, Harry went on, "Trouble is, distance isn't always just miles. It can also be if one of them is thinking about me, or they are performing dark magic, or fighting each other." With a grunt he lowered himself back into Tonk's chair. "I want to find him. He's up to something. He's involved with Lockhart somehow."

"Lockhart?" Rodgers echoed doubtfully.

His frustration clear again, Harry said, "He was the best at Memory Charms. I'm sure he must have spelled Severus. Do you know anyone else who would even attempt to take away two whole years from someone?"

Rodgers paced once. A door opened and closed somewhere else on the floor, creaking loudly. "I have to admit, I don't. Snape didn't say it was Lockhart though, according to the report."

"You read it?" Harry asked.

Rodgers spun around. "I would like to catch Avery as well, Potter. If for no other reason than that his freedom mocks us." Frowning, he picked up a Remembrall from Shacklebolt's desk. It was flashing lightly. "Think that's for me?" Rodgers asked facetiously. With a bonk! he put the ball down again on its wooden stand. "I suppose we could issue wanted posters for Lockhart. Certainly have enough pictures of him to choose from."

Giddily tired, Harry quipped, "Have you seen this disgusting smile? After you get your autograph, please call the Ministry."

Rodger's lips curled slightly upward. "We'll put out something. He could be dangerous, I suppose, in the right hands. I expected him to simply show up in some Muggle hospital after being picked up wandering the streets." He sniffed and stood in thought. "Go home and get some sleep. Go on," he commanded firmly, when Harry stalled

* * *

Harry again stood before the Wizengamot, and despite not having nearly as much on the line, found himself equally nervous as the last time. He forced his shoulders down and flipped through the notes resting before him on the podium that stood before and off to the left side of the half-full tiered seats.

"Mr. Potter," Minister Bones said after getting through the preliminaries. She had a copy of his petition and was paging through it. "I must say this is well assembled."

"Thank you, Minister," Harry acknowledged quietly. He was staring at his own disorganized notes without really reading them. While he waited, he glanced around the assemblage again to gauge their faces. McGonagall was not present, unfortunately; Harry thought he could have used a guaranteed ally.

Bones was continuing. "If I may say, despite your thorough documentation of the case, there is little here but secondhand information. To overturn a conviction, even one posthumously, requires a preponderance of evidence."

Harry's first scribbled out potential witness list was open on the podium before him. Moody, Hagrid, Severus? Feeling as though he had been dipped in ice water, Harry suddenly realized why he really was doing this: He was still, after all this time, trying to rescue Sirius.

Bones was still talking. Hurriedly, Harry caught up with what she was saying while at the same time trying hard to latch onto the more sensible reason he had settled upon after Rogan challenged him on just this point: It wasn't fair. It set a bad precedent. None of them sounded all that reasonable while standing before the assembled governing body of British Wizardom.

" . . . upon what basis do you wish us to make this decision?" Bones was asking in a formal tone.

Harry quickly answered awkwardly, "Uh, upon the confession Pettigrew gave that I witnessed. The others who witnessed it are on the witness list as well.

Bones was relentless. She held the list up to better peer at it and said, "Your best friends and a werewolf, if I am not mistaken."

"Yes, ma'am," Harry admitted.

Bones removed her glasses and held them between her clasped hands before her. "Let's hear your version of events then, and we will go from there."

Harry put aside his uneasiness at losing track of his purpose and launched into a detailed reminiscence of the events in the Shrieking Shack. He related as closely as he could remember how Pettigrew had broken down in the end and admitted that he had been scared of Voldemort and had given into him. "And lastly," Harry said, "Pettigrew's very existence after his supposed murder, an existance which the Ministry readily admits to, means that the original conclusions about the crime Sirius Black was convicted of were mistaken."

"True," Bones admitted. "Well, we shall deliberate and hand down a decision. I am curious though why you have brought this up now of all times, Mr. Potter?"

Harry had closed his note file and now placed his hand down on it. "It seemed to be a matter that needed to righted, Minister." He hesitated and then added, "I admit that I have a personal interest in this. My godfather was severely wronged and lost his freedom and his life to it. This is the only thing we can do to right any of it at this point."

"Hm," Bones muttered. "Well, we will take that into consideration. You are released."

Relieved, Harry stepped out and barely noticed the walk up the steps to the busy atrium. He made his way slowly to the lifts, wanting time to think before returning to his training. All he could change now were the history books, nothing else. But that was worth it, wasn't it?

Fortunately, Harry had his mind taken off of the hearing by Belinda showing up in his hearth that evening. "Hope it isn't too late . . . " she said apologetically. Harry had already eaten but he went and asked Winky for another dinner for two.

Back in the dining room, Belinda was sitting with her head resting tiredly in her palm. Harry, truly moved, suggested, "Maybe you should have gone home and gone to sleep early."

She shrugged and sat straighter. "I wanted to see you."

This statement made Harry's insides ooze around happily. "It's good to have you over finally," he admitted.

"Sorry, I'm always so late at work. We never can tell what notion the Minister will get in her head in the afternoons. She gets so many invitations that she can't accept them all, but she'll decide to go to some dinner, or dedication, or memorial, or reception, and expect some or all of us to go along. Behaves like it some kind of treat even."

"But you like working for her?" Harry asked.

"Yes, I like being involved . . . meeting people," she smiled coyly at him then, which made a dimple stand out on her right cheek. She pushed her hair back behind her ear, where it refused to stay, and took on a shy posture, making Harry suspect that she still didn't relax and behave like her true self around him.

"Dinner will be in just a few minutes."

"I was hopeful for something to eat, but not expecting it. Thanks." She looked around the dining room with interest, especially at the decorative potion bottles on a high shelf on the far wall. Harry went and fetched the smoky liqueur that was in one of them. It was his favorite bottle with leaded colored glass fixed to it with fine chains and a matching colored glass stopper. As he carried it back to the table he considered that something like it would make a good present next time he was stuck for ideas. "Would you like some?" Harry asked.

"What is it?"

Harry held it to the light. "It tastes like burnt oak and sage and too much of it at once will make you feel like you've been hit in the gut with a Bludger."

She smiled and said, "Sounds good," so Harry poured some for her and a little less for himself. She seemed to think deeply as she sipped it. With another glance around the room she asked, "So this is . . . Professor Snape's house?"

"And his booze," Harry quipped.

"Ah, never imagined I'd find myself at Snape's house, drinking his booze. Nope, never imagined that. With you no less."

Winky brought dinner then and Belinda ate voraciously at first before slowing down. "I didn't get lunch either," she apologized. She saw that Harry barely touch his roast and potatoes. "And you've already eaten . . ."

Harry insisted that it was all right. When she had cleared her plate, she became interested in the house again and leaned over to peer into the main hall. "Do you want a tour?" Harry asked, only half serious. But she expressed eagerness, so he showed her around the ground floor and then up to the first.

"What's on that side?" she asked, pointing across to the other balcony.

Harry, thinking of pentagrams on the floor and skull candleholders said, "Just storage. There isn't an attic."

In his room she looked around keenly. Harry was very grateful that Winky usually straightened things during the day while he was out. "What's this?" she asked of Kali.

"Oh, that's a Chimrian." Harry opened the cage door and put his hand in so his pet could crawl up his arm to his shoulder. Belinda leaned close to get a look and Kali hissed at her before turning in a circle and crouching. "She's much better behaved than she used to be. I think she's matured, even though she hasn't grown much. Or maybe she's lost some of her color."

Belinda, who had backed off at the hiss, said, "Lost some color? Wow. What does she do? Does she deliver post?"

Kali hissed again, making Harry laugh. "No. She's empathetic and very protective. That's about it." Harry gave her a pat. "She would eat any post you gave her."

Belinda rounded the bed and said, "You haven't really personalized your room."

"What do you mean?" Harry asked, glancing around. It sure felt like his room.

"Well, you don't have any posters on the walls or anything."

"I used to, at school. But there there was someone to see them. Most of them were too beaten up to rehang here." She looked around again, more critically. He sensed that she was trying to learn something about him from his space. Giving up on this, she plunked down on the bed. "Pretty normal looking place."

Harry approached slowly. "What were you expecting, wanted posters?"

"There is a new one out for Avery," she pointed out.

Crossing his arms, Harry stated grimly, "I know what he looks like." Kali growled low in her tiny throat.

After a pause Belinda tossed her hair back and asked curiously, "What would you do if you came upon him?"

Harry chewed his lip. "I don't know," he answered honestly. "I'd like to see him put away in Azkaban. I don't suppose I would feel too much regret if something bad happened to him on the way there. I'd like to be able to relax though, and I can't seem to with him running loose."

Speaking the way Hermione might if she thought you were missing an important and obvious point, she said, "Harry, if you are going to be an Auror, I don't think you can ever relax."

He finally relented and sat down beside her on the bed. He spied the album under under his nightstand and pulled it out. "I have some pictures if you want to see them."

"I'd love to."

Harry flipped the album open to the first page, ignoring the chocolate frog card that had gotten stashed there. Belinda plucked it out and looked it over. "I have to get you to autograph one of these for me." When Harry made a small noise of dismay, she froze, holding the card up between them. "You don't like your fame, do you?" she asked in surprise.

"Not really," Harry answered, still looking down at the photograph of him and his parents. His mother waved at the camera.

"I didn't realize that," she breathed. "I'll keep that in mind. The other day in the atrium, I thought you were just being polite to the Minister, skulking around like you did to keep out of view of the reporters." She moved over closer and looked at the album with interest. "Your parents?"

Harry nodded and paged silently and slowly forward. One was of himself in a kind of baby backpack carried by his dad. The next was his parents and some other members of the Order photographed while sitting around a table strewn with maps. The next he now recognized as having been taken in Godric's Hollow. He would have to try to find that spot next visit. His father was posing before a plaque with a Snitch on it, but Harry had never seen a plaque there in the village square where the photograph appeared to have been taken. His father was saying something slowly to the camera, Harry tried to read his lips but beyond "My . . ." he couldn't make it out. He was pointing at the plaque though with some amusement and pride even.

"So," Belinda asked, "What would your dad think of you getting a new dad?"

Harry exhaled. "He'd be appalled."

"Really?" Belinda blurted, sounding amused and alarmed.

"Absolutely. He'd go berserk, I think. I don't know what my mum would think. She was considered the levelheaded one. Maybe she'd be okay with it." He flipped past more pages of bright picnics. "Next time I get stuck beyond the veil I'll ask," he quipped grimly.

Belinda had a mixed response to this, apparently uncertain if he were being humorous. "That happen a lot?"

"Sometimes," Harry said, and then mentally nudged himself. He was being mean doing that and knew it, but let it happen anyway.

"Huh," she uttered, taking that in. "That's Hagrid," she said brightly to a younger version of the Hogwart's groundskeeper, smiling sheepishly from the next photograph. He was holding a pumpkin the size of trunk under his arm as though it weighed nothing; Lily stood beside him holding a much smaller pumpkin, carved with a broad grimace.

"Yeah," Harry said with a smile. "I don't get 'round to see him as often as I should."

"Friend of yours."

"My oldest friend."

"Huh," she uttered again as though forced to readjust her thinking. Harry had suspected that she understood him wrong; maybe after a half-dozen evenings like this, she might be straightened out. Meanwhile, she had shifted closer still so their legs touched and he couldn't miss that fruit scent of her hair. "You playing Quidditch. You were good at that."

"Yeah. We lost that last year's cup though. But it doesn't matter, really. I thought I would remember that loss for a long time but I don't even think about it. The next challenge is always more important than the last, win or lose." She had put a hand on his arm and was moving it slowly up to his elbow. Harry almost commented that she wasn't a challenge at all but then decided that that would be a very unwise thing to say. He flipped though the remaining pages with photographs and closed it. There were quite a number of blank pages remaining.

"There isn't one of you and Professor Snape," she observed.

"No. I'll have to get one." He leaned forward to put the album away, pulling free of her grasp in the process. Then he stood up smoothly. "I have training in the morning . . . I think I have to get some sleep."

She appeared amused, but as though she were attempting to cover it. "All right. Stop by at lunch if you have a chance this week."

"I'll try," Harry replied before leading her down to the hearth and seeing her off, garnering a peck on the cheek as she departed. As the flames flickered down to normal yellow, part of him wished she could have stayed longer, but her infatuation was in the way, a kind of barrier to understanding that had to be pulled down before he wished to risk anything intimate. He sighed into the empty air, feeling a bit lonely.

The next morning, a Ministry post owl arrived. Harry wondered that they didn't just send him a memo at the Ministry. He then reconsidered that he really didn't have a desk for it to arrive at. The language was roundabout but upon a second reading he decided that it promised to add an addendum to Sirius' file casting grave doubt on his guilt but there would be no official announcement. Harry refolded the letter, feeling unsatisfied, and wondering how Bones and this assemblage of the Wizengamot would cope with real problems if they were this careful about dodging controversy when no one who mattered remained alive.

Over the next few days Harry did not manage to stop by the Minister's offic at lunch; he felt a deep, simmering frustration with Madam Bones and had no interest in testing his control. Wednesday evening, Belinda's owl arrived as he was doing his post-dinner readings. The letter read bright and cheery and hoped for them to make a date for the weekend, perhaps for Harry to have dinner at her parent's house. "Aye," Harry muttered aloud, bringing Kali's head up from his lap with a curious look. "Think I'm being shown off?" he asked his pet. "Maybe that's unfair," he then answered himself, folding the letter aside to answer later.

Harry didn't make it to the weekend to find out; that night he jerked awake in his bed, feeling badly disoriented. His room was black, except for the orange glow in the hearth, and totally still. The curse detection above the hearth flared pure blue when Harry waved his wand at it, so he flopped back, closed his eyes again, and tried to relax. As he lay there, floating half-conscious, a tangled vision filled his mind; in it, overlapping shadows jousted in a green haze.

In a surge of acid panic Harry leapt from his bed, tossing the duvet halfway across the floor, the breeze of it sending flames skyward in the hearth. He grabbed up his wand and robe, which he shrugged on as he took the stairs in a rush, three steps at a time. He scrawled a five-pointed star followed by a two-word message on his Auror's tablet and tossed it heedlessly back on the dining room table. Inside the hearth he shouted, "Hogwarts" as he threw down a very large handful of powder. The resulting acceleration through the quiet Floo Network nearly knocked him out. Blurry moments later, he landed in an ashy heap in the largest hearth of the Great Hall.

Wand still in hand, he clambered to his feet and pounded his way out to the Entrance Hall and up the Grand Staircase, amazed and relieved at the fluidity and speed of his own movement. He didn't slow on the staircases and sped to flying speed when he reached the dim second floor corridor.

Snape's office door was locked and an strange foggy glass globe was resting just at the bottom edge of it. Harry pounded on the door, then stepped back, wand aimed. He uttered a Blasting Curse and the jagged bolt from his wand burned the air red and split the heavy wooden door in two with a deafening crack. The unhinged half fell aside and the other swung open, revealing Avery clutching a thick cloth over his nose and mouth, crouched over another figure. Blood spattered the walls and pooled around their black robes. Blue mist floated out into the corridor around Harry's feet.

For Harry, all existence reduced to the man staring at him in surprise quickly turning to fear. All sound faded beyond Harry's own breath and pounding heart. He blasted the man without conscious thought. Like a rag doll, Avery was tossed against the couch from which he flopped to the floor. The Death Eater, eyes bright with pain, brought his wand around and tried to aim it but an Expelliamus disarmed him easily as though he had the magic of a mere child. Harry stalked forward into the room, his mind over-bright with a white hot wrath. Avery knelt in a pleading pose after giving up on reaching his wand in the far corner beyond the shelves.

Snape wasn't moving. Harry didn't remove his eyes from Avery, but to the side he could detect no life in the shattered form on the floor before the desk. He had to force himself to breathe. Every fiber of his being yearned to utter a Killing Curse at the wizard groveling before him. He took a breath, and his lips incanted a chain binding curse instead. It felt like emptiness, like the bitter winter wind blowing through a leafless tree. Giving vent to more anger he cast a Prison Box charm, a excessively forceful one that shrunk Avery down to less than a foot square. The box shifted and rattled before stilling.

Harry dropped to his knees then, spent, but with his heart still rushing deafeningly in his ears. Death-heavy, oily air air wafted around him and his ash-dusted robe licked at the blood spreading across the stone floor. Any remaining emotion he may have harbored slipped from him as he pushed Snape's shoulder away to turn his face upward and to pull his tangled hair aside. With a hollow heart he considered the familiar visage, the aquiline nose and thick brow, now unnaturally pale and still.

Minerva McGonagall had been woken by the old Order alarm: a half dome of glass ressembling a paperweight that she now used strictly as one. She stumbled into her office and read the message inside it, squinting hard without her glasses. It was from Shacklebolt and it was short. She threw on her robe and rushed down the far too slowly turning staircase.

When she made it to Snape's office, the door was split and light poured forth between the remains of it. Harry knelt inside over the fallen form of whom she could only assume was her colleague. "Potter?" she questioned sharply as she stepped inside. A rather cramped prison box sat on the floor, but she spared it no attention. Behind her, running feet approached.

"Harry?" she tried again. Only when she was right behind him, did she notice he was rocking forward and back slightly, keening faintly. The sound froze her hand as she reached for his shoulder. In her view over Harry's shoulder, Snape's future did not look promising.

Others entered the office. Tonks moved in, stepping around Harry as though he were furniture. She did not hesitate or ask anything, simply spelled Snape's body with a rapid series of charms. Shacklebolt followed into the room as well as another. They were all moving, talking rapidly in abbreviated observations and commands. McGonagall pulled Harry backward out of the way. He didn't resist, although he made a louder keening noise.

"Run ahead to Pomfrey," Tonks said to Shacklebolt. "It's the only chance." She hovered Snape with a spell and for someone reputed to be clumsy, steered him speedily and unerringly out of the room. The pool of blood glistened in their wake; its surface disturbed.

The remaining Auror took charge of the prison box and the strange glass orb resting on the threshold. He hefted the box with a grunt and carried it to the door where he hesitated and looked back. His disturbed eyes looked over Harry, lying catatonic over McGonagall's folded legs. "What's wrong with him?" he asked, sounding unyieldingly hard.

McGonagall adjusted Harry so he was lying more comfortably and less like a discarded puppet. "If you knew how many parent figures this boy has lost, you would not need to ask that," she stated coldly. He appeared to consider that a half second before departing. McGonagall leaned back against the couch; despair wormed its way in as silence descended.

Another figure, wearing a Prefect badge, materialized from the darkness of the corridor, looking wide-eyed curious and distressed. "Ms. Weasley," McGonagall greeted Ginny. The young woman's face looked as despairing as Harry's should have. "Please, close the door," she said, only after realizing that wasn't a reasonable request. Ginny didn't hesitate, though; just set the heavy broken plank near the half still on the hinges and repeatedly incanted a Reparo spell. When it held, she pulled it as closed as it would go.

Alone then with Harry, McGonagall looked down at him. He hadn't moved at all. It was a mistake, she thought, to have referred to him as 'boy'. He had grown startlingly since leaving school. With broadened shoulders and additional height, he finally actually resembled someone who could believably defeat Voldemort. His face had changed as well, it had stretched into one more like Lily's in the jaw and brow. She brushed his fringe back. His scar had lightened too, as though he were outgrowing it.

She reached around him in a loose hug. "Hang on, Harry," she said. "I have no intention of failing Albus now. Or you." She huffed in frustration, but did not want to bring Harry to the dispensary without word, as it most certainly would not do him any good. This left nothing to do but await news and decide how to proceed from there. She couldn't bear to chart either path forward without knowing absolutely. She imagined Pomfrey at work with her spells and potions, glad she was here imagining instead of there witnessing, and then wondered how improper it was that she was worried for Snape almost strictly because of Harry.

Footsteps approached the door and McGonagall heard urgent whispering. At the end she distinctly heard Ginny urging the messenger away. "Ten points to Gryffindor," McGonagall whispered.

The door creaked open and Ginny peered around it. "Headmistress? Pomfrey says Professor Snape's going to make it."

McGonagall nearly collapsed before she found the strength to sit forward and hover Harry aside so that she could stand. She shook her head at how much simpler things were if Severus was there to take care of them, which was a first. Ginny's eyes were taking in the alarming streaks of blood on the face of the desk and even the wall.

"To your tower, young lady," McGonagall ordered.

Ginny reluctantly obeyed. McGonagall followed her to the staircases before heading down with her silent burden.

In the hospital wing she settled her silent charge on the bed beside Snape's where Pomfrey was still working with the help of Shacklebolt and Tonks. She watched them sealing a few last minor wounds. When they finished and covered him, McGonagall looked down at Harry, who seemed to have fallen into a disturbed sleep.

Tonks came over to the other side of the bed. Her hands were bloodstained as she rested them on the white sheets to lean over Harry. She studied him a long time and sighed. "I'd keep him under until Severus is up."

"That could be a while. At least after the blood replenisher kicks in," Pomfrey pointed out, glancing doubtfully at Harry's sleeping face.

"I agree that is probably wise," McGonagall said, remembering with a twinge the state she found him in. She pulled a chair over from another bed and sat in it with her wand held at the ready. A Quiescent Charm could be repeated many times without risk, she considered, focusing on that simple fact and rehearsing the spell in her mind even though it was a trivial one.

* * *

Severus Snape moved in a grey fog, one that swirled unnaturally around him as he stepped through it. He felt feather light, as though his mind moved him rather than his legs.

A figure appeared. Snape hesitated at the sight before him, half obscured by tendrils of white and grey.

"Severus," Dumbledore greeted him kindly. Snape looked around in concern and the old wizard said, "Yes, you are in the veil." Dumbledore came closer and put his hands on Snape's upper arms as though greeting him. "But you are still tied to life." He nodded his white head broadly to indicate something behind Snape.

Snape turned and found a glowing cord tethering him to something hidden beyond the fog, in a darker greyness. Dumbledore didn't release him when Snape turned back to study his old colleague. He looked a little younger than Snape remembered but his light blue eyes still twinkled with an aged wisdom. Dumbledore turned and looked over his shoulder, appearing to wait for something. Snape followed his gaze and another figure became visible, this one moved through the fog, not disturbing it at all. Snape stiffened when he recognized the dark haired man with a sharp chin. "Black," he whispered. The other man didn't reply, just looked away and stood silent.

Confused, Snape turned back to Dumbledore, who sharply said, "Think of life."

"Life?" Snape echoed, more confused.

"You are at Hogwarts, undoubtedly in the hospital wing. Remain there, rather than here," the old wizard commanded. More figures shifted behind Dumbledore, flickering in and out as the fog cleared and thickened. "If you pass, there is no going back," he explained gently.

Snape struggled for comprehension. He could not have moved had he wanted to, Dumbledore had too tight of a hold. The figures beyond flickered and moved across one another. Sirius continued to stand beside Dumbledore, arms at his sides, gaze averted.

Snape looked down at himself, his hands were fading; he squinted at them, trying to understand. Realization came with a wave of cold. "I'm going to be a wraith," he murmured in fear. If he didn't cross over before it was too late, he would be trapped. "I don't relish living out eternity with the Bloody Baron," he said and laughed mirthlessly.

"Life, Severus," Dumbledore commanded sharply. "Remember that. You need to return to it and holding onto it is the only way."

"You're helping him return?" a voice sneered beside them.

Jolted from his fearful musings, Snape turned to find James Potter appearing from the fog. It released James rapidly as he stepped up beside them. "Why?" he demanded of Dumbledore in hot anger. Behind his old nemesis a shyer figure appeared, although the fog still clung to Lily. Snape was startled to realize that Harry looked much less like his father than he had always assumed.

"You want Severus to return," Dumbledore insisted gently to James. "He is caring for Harry now."

"He's what?" James blurted in sharp surprise and tried to reach out to grab Dumbledore's arm. A flash of white surrounded it, throwing his hand back.

"James," Dumbledore admonished calmly, clearly disappointed. "You have seen Harry and what a beautiful young man he has become. You have Severus to thank for that."

Snape tried to appreciate James' rather distressed reaction to that, but his arms were fading alarmingly; although, somehow, Dumbledore still held them firmly. Snape couldn't remember what his body felt like, maybe he had never had one. "Harry needs you," Dumbledore stated firmly to him. "Grab hold one more time. There is still a path back."

Snape tried to do as he was told, deciding that life as ghost would be worse than not trying. He turned and studied James' angry eyes before Lily's more hopeful one's captured his gaze. He was falling somehow,without actually moving. Dumbledore gathered him up. This time, Snape could feel his mind rationalizing that into an embrace, rationalizing something that was not the least bit physical.

Suddenly, as though he had grown skin that instant, he could feel more, imagined he was breathing blessed air. Everything in his field of view was skewing distressingly. "A moment more," Dumbledore said in a reassuringly victorious tone.

"What are you doing with my son?" James demanded, leaning in without touching in order to get Snape's attention.

Snape turned to him and smiled then--his darkest smile ever. "He is my son now," he stated and took in James' odd distorted expression of horror for just an instant before everything skewed menacingly.

"Sirius," Dumbledore said with urgency. "Now." Snape felt himself being manipulated in ways that made no sense. Pain was slashing and hammering at him, but he decided it was best to not will himself to avoid it--it was a part of living after all.

He was pushed to Sirius, who looked sad more than anything else. Their gazes locked before he embraced Snape, crushing him. Dumbledore's voice sounded in his ear, "Do not resist him."

Snape had no fight left in him to resist with. Passively he felt himself being bunched up like a ball of paper by Sirius' arms and eventually just his hands. His last glimpse was from inside his old enemy's hands as massive fingers of darkness closed around him.

Snape's next impression, some time later, was of Pepper-up potion tainting his lips. His body rebelled severely at the notion of conscious activity. The potion flowed into him, nonetheless, as a swallowing spell made him take it down.

He cracked his eyes open and tried to push the cup away. Pomfrey was leaning over him, studying him intently. If he had not just experienced death, he would have thought this pain and total lethargy of will to be comparable.

"You are needed," Pomfrey explained, nodding to indicate the next bed over.

Snape breathed a few times, forced his head to turn, and found McGonagall sitting on the far side of the next bed, upon which rested Harry. Snape blinked in confusion and raised his head a monumental inch. Pomfrey held the cup out and this time he drank several gulps before heaving himself to a sitting position. His hand plucked at the unexpected hospital shrift he wore and confusion about what had happened made him dizzy. Confusing recollections flickered before him: waking with Avery glaring victoriously over him, taunting him for being overcome by a vaporous potion of all things, pain and furious helplessness, Dumbledore. He pushed it all aside and focussed only on Harry as he slid out and over to the next bed.

"What happened to him?" he asked. His eyes found others nearby; Tonks and Rodgers stood off the end of Harry's bed, looking pensive.

McGonagall responded, "He came for you," she said sadly, "came in from the Floo in the Great Hall." Snape ran his hand through his badly matted hair and looked Harry over. McGonagall continued to explain, "We've been using a Quiescent Charm on him for the last hour. It should wear off any moment." Their eyes met as Snape strained to understand the situation.

To stall Snape said, "Get him out of here." When no one moved, he looked over at Rodgers, who returned him a very dark look before Tonks urged him out of the wing. Snape waited until they were gone to return to evaluating Harry.

"What was that about?" McGonagall asked.

"Nothing worth discussing right now. Mostly, I didn't want an audience," he replied as he lifted Harry's wrist to feel his pulse.

McGonagall sighed and brushed Harry's shoulder with her fingertips. "He broke down," she explained in a dark tone. "Completely."

Snape dropped his head and laid Harry's hand back over his abdomen. He did not believe he had the strength for this. The scene beyond the veil was playing out in his mind in un-sequential pieces, disorienting him further.

"It was a distressing scene," McGonagall went on, "given everything he's been through."

Harry's eyes were cracked open now. Snape put his hands on Harry's arms and called his name without effect. "Give me the Pepper-up," he requested. Pomfrey handed it over and he forced a few sips into Harry, who turned his head away from the cup but was forced to take some anyway. After a few shaking breaths, he twitched on the bed and made a low keening sound.

"That's the noise he was making when I found him," McGonagall supplied quietly.

Snape frowned and put the cup aside to shake Harry by the upper arms. "Harry," he prompted a few times. Harry turned his head back, but his eyes stared beyond the ceiling. Snape forcibly turned his head farther to meet his gaze, and held it there. "Come on, Harry. Every thing's all right," he coaxed to no response.

Snape took a deep breath and pried into Harry's mind. Pain assaulted him, pain like his heart was being torn out. Snape quickly clenched his eyes closed and blocked it out, thinking as he did that Voldemort had less of a chance than he had previously imagined if that was what he had met with in the Entrance Hall on that long-ago day.

"Severus?" McGonagall's concerned voice prompted Snape back to the present.

Drawing on his fast-dwindling strength, Snape leaned farther over Harry and pushed his hair back from his forehead, intentionally touching his scar, which should have produced a jolt but only made Harry's eyes come into focus.

Harry's eyes blinked rapidly. Reality closed in with awareness and he swallowed a gasp. Damp eyes looked frantically around, finally glaring disbelievingly at Snape. Harry sat up suddenly and grabbed the front of Snape's shrift as though to verify he was solid.

"Everything's all right, Harry," Snape reassured him yet again.

Harry's mouth worked silently before he quietly said, "I thought you'd left me alone."

"No," Snape said and pulled Harry against himself. Harry closed his eyes and swallowed hard. "Never," Snape insisted. McGonagall gave him a surprised brow at that assurance. Snape considered that she didn't realize Dumbledore was blocking his path through the veil; otherwise he would never express such certainty. Feeling that he had committed to something with more certainty than signing a piece of paper, he ran a hand over Harry's back. His vision was wavering and narrowing though, and Pomfrey gestured for him to return to his bed.

"Are you all right now?" Snape asked, forcing his voice strong. When Harry nodded into his shoulder, he explained, "I have to go."

Harry reluctantly leaned away from him before Snape pushed himself carefully to his feet. Pomfrey helped him back to the other bed where he immediately fell unconscious again. Harry swallowed his distress and reassured himself by watching his guardian's chest rise and fall.

"Lie back, Harry," McGonagall urged. "Get some rest. Madam Pomfrey will keep an eye on Severus."

Harry nodded, still pulling himself together with great effort. He settled under the covers and tried to stem the panic that kept rising to clench at his heart. McGonagall stood to leave, her hand brushing his shoulder.

Harry must have fallen asleep, because the next thing he knew, the room was full of morning light and Dobby stood beside the bed with a breakfast tray. "Harry Potter must be hungry," the elf squeaked and placed the tray on the side table. Clothes had been laid out for him too, he wondered whose they were, as they weren't his own. They were worn and faded to grey by many washings. Maybe they were just discarded spares.

Harry slipped on his glasses and looked quickly over at the next bed. Snape still slept deeply, but his color was much better, though not normal. Harry turned back to the elf. "Thanks Dobby." Dobby bowed, ears bobbing, and backed away. Harry ignored the tray--he wasn't very hungry--and slid out of bed. He pulled a chair over from between the next two beds and sat close to Snape's side, hands clamped tensely between his knees. Pomfrey stepped over from her office and checked Snape over quickly.

"How long before he wakes up?" Harry asked her.

"A while yet . . . perhaps this evening. The Pepper-up did not do him any favors on top of the Kayo vapor." She stated this brusquely and departed back to her office.

Harry frowned and closed his eyes, feeling guilt reducing him.

In the Great Hall as breakfast was winding down, Headmistress McGonagall stepped away from the head table and down the Slytherin one, which had been exceptionally quiet during the meal. She tapped Suze Zepher on the shoulder and indicated that she should follow. McGonagall led the girl to the other side of the hall where Ginny sat, picking at her breakfast in an unenthusiastic manner.

"Ms. Weasley, please come with me."

Ginny glanced between the two of them and stood immediately. When they reached the Entrance Hall, McGonagall said, "I am giving you both an excused absence from the first class of the day, but I want you to spend it keeping Mr. Potter company; I think he could use a little. I'll relieve you for your second class." She nodded at them both and headed back inside.

Suze moved quickly to catch up to Ginny, who was marching off up the stairs. "I don't get it," Suze said when she came aside the red-haired girl.

"Didn't you hear what happened last night?" Ginny asked.

"Only that Professor Snape was attacked and isn't going to be teaching for a while."

Ginny stopped in the empty corridor, empty except for the paintings, which turned and watched them curiously, whispering to each other. "I had the misfortune, because I was trying to track down the Creevey brother's latest prank before it got the house in trouble, to see the end of what happened," Ginny explained with a waver in her voice. She swallowed hard and went on quietly, "Professor Snape was dead by the time help arrived last night. Harry wasn't . . . coping well with that." She fell silent as the scene replayed before her.

"Dead? What happened? Why was Harry here?"

Ginny shook herself and started walking again. "I think he probably saw the attack in his mind. He told us he saw the Death Eaters fighting in Azkaban last year in his head."

"He saw what?" Suze asked in awed tones. They had reached the staircase to the second floor and both waited for two other students to pass by before continuing.

Very quietly, Ginny explained, "Harry sometimes can see Death Eaters in his mind. If they are close by, thinking about him, or fighting each other."

Suze looked very uncertain as they continued, and at the corridor that led to the hospital wing, she grabbed Ginny and said, "The older kids in Slytherin . . . they scare the first years with stories about Professor Snape." She bit her lip, and asked, "He wasn't really? They just made that up, right?"

"Come on," Ginny urged, heading off down the well-lit corridor.

Suze caught up at a run and grabbed Ginny's sleeve. "But . . ." she whispered.

"Come on," Ginny repeated and opened the door.

Harry looked up as the door to the wing swung open. He straightened upon seeing his friends enter; glad he had pulled himself together enough to get dressed.

"Wotcher, Harry," Ginny said with a weak smile when she came up beside him. Her eyes glanced over their unconscious teacher before she moved to fetch chairs from farther down the row of empty beds. Suze stood at the foot of the bed looking anxious. She dropped her gaze rather than stare at Snape.

"How are you, Suze?" Harry asked.

Suze shrugged in reply. Ginny returned with two chairs and placed them both near Harry, took the closer one, and urged Suze to take the other, which she did after some hesitation. She looked very uncomfortable with being there. Ginny sat straight and said with mustered brightness, "He's going to be all right, right?" Harry nodded, rubbing his hair back. Ginny went on, "So, he'll wake up soon?"

"Later this evening," Harry said, feeling pained about that and hearing it in his voice.

"Great Goblins, Harry, you aren't feeling guilty are you?" Ginny demanded.

Harry rubbed his head with both hands. He really had to pull himself together. "I don't want to talk about it."

"Professor McGonagall said you saved his life last night. Why are you feeling guilty? You are some kind of guilt-freak."

Harry narrowed his eyes at her but couldn't find anger to go with it. "He'd be up sooner. . . never mind."

Ginny turned to Suze, who struggled a moment before saying, "Thank you for saving his life, Harry. We wouldn't want to lose our Head of House . . ."

Harry nodded.

After a long silence Ginny said, "Is your training still going well?" Harry nodded again. Ginny went on, "You are doing field work now, right? Is that more exciting?"

Harry finally pushed himself upright and replied quietly, "Yes. I usually get to follow Tonks or Rogan, both of whom I like. Tonks lets me do more now when we're out, like ask questions. She says people answer me more than they do her."

Ginny laughed a bit and said in a falsetto while clasping her hands to her chest, "Oh, the great Harry Potter is talking to me!"

Harry put a hand over his eyes and laughed lightly despite himself. "It's some of that," he admitted.

Harry leaned forward and asked Suze how Quidditch was going and whether they were going to beat Ravenclaw. Suze assured him they would, then glanced at Snape and fell silent again. Harry looked him over again as well. He was sleeping very soundly and it was a little odd to be sitting here chatting like this, but he didn't feel like moving farther away.

"Tell me about your new plays," Harry said to Suze.

"Not in front of the captain of the Gryffindor team," Suze complained.

Ginny folded her arms and stated smugly, "We watch you practice most days you're at the pitch. I think I know them already."

Quidditch filled the next hour until the door to the wing opened to reveal the headmistress. She looked relieved and a little pleased although she still managed a stiff tone as she ordered them off to their second class.

When they were gone, Harry asked, "You let them off from class?"

She ignored his question and sat down with a graceful lifting of her robes. "You seem in a little better spirits."

"Yep. Thanks."

McGonagall didn't remain long, and while she was there she seemed meditative. Eventually she stood and put a hand on Harry's shoulder without speaking. She had an amused expression, which prompted Harry to ask why. She replied, "You continue to prove me wrong, young man." With a wink she departed.

She was not gone long however. She returned looking more official and leaned down close to Harry to say, "There is a woman in the Entrance Hall who wishes to see how Severus is doing."

"Candide?" Harry asked.

"Yes. Shall I send her up?"

"All right," replied Harry, glad that Snape was out of it for this.

McGonagall straightened. "Hm," she muttered thoughtfully.

Reading her, Harry commented, "It's too complicated to explain."

"I am trying to picture Severus with a lady-friend. Though now that I think of it, I remember seeing them having tea in Hogsmeade a few times." At Harry's shrug she turned. "I'll send her up," she said over her shoulder.

Harry waited with mixed emotion. Eventually the door cracked open and Candide leaned in. Her eyes found Harry there and she slipped in, apparently loath to open the door too wide. When she stood at the end of the bed her eyes looked quite concerned, making Harry feel a bit hopeful. "What happened?" she whispered. When Harry didn't immediately reply, she said, "The rumors are flying thick in Hogsmeade. The reporters are scrambling around but no one from the school will talk to them. The Ministry will only say that the last Death Eater has been captured." She stopped suddenly on that point.

"Avery," Harry supplied. "Wanted revenge. He should have come after me, but he's been after Severus instead."

"Why?"

"Because Avery considered him a traitor," Harry said, anger rising. Something gnawed at Harry's mind, some connection he had yet to recognize, and when Candide asked how Avery had gotten into the castle, it blossomed into full suspicion.

"I don't know," Harry said, possible schemes flickering though his mind. Most of them involved inside help. "He filled Severus' office with Kayo Vapor and broke in and overcame him."

Candide unfolded her arms and put one hand on the bed near Snape's feet. "What did Avery do to him?"

"He killed him." The words were like a spell that hollowed out Harry's chest. He clamped his mouth shut and blinked hard.

After a minute Candide said, "He doesn't look dead now."

"The Aurors put a freezing spell on him and Pomfrey managed to save him." Harry spoke this all grudgingly; he really didn't feel like relating it.

"It was a good thing the Aurors came when they did."

"I signaled them when I saw the two of them fighting in my dream. And Shacklebolt, one of the Aurors, initiated the old Order of the Phoenix alarm." Harry fell silent before saying, perhaps not intentionally out loud, "I should have killed Avery. Voldemort certainly was tempted to enough times." After further thought he added, "Maybe we'll find out who helped him, though. The Aurors should be interrogating him now."

All of this alarmed Candide and she stared at him warily, hands at her sides. Harry's own ill ease twisted into anger at her. In a deceptively soft tone he said, "This is who we are. We are survivors of Voldemort. Accept that, or go away."

She looked amazed by his tone. Their gazes locked and Harry could see her surprise was borne partly of sudden understanding. She looked Snape's supine self over again with a different expression, as though she were weighing things. Eventually she asked, "Do you need anything?"

Harry shook his head. He did wish that the ground didn't feel like it might pull out from under him any moment, but he doubted even Dumbledore could have helped with that. Though she lingered a while longer, Candide didn't speak except to say goodbye. Dobby brought a lunch tray just after and Harry managed to eat a little chicken potpie before his appetite fled.

Harry's friends came in the afternoon. Hermione and Ron appeared about as shocked as they ever had when Harry explained what had happened. At the end Ron said, "Boy, dad doesn't even know half that and he's talked to the Aurors office." He leaned over Snape to peer at him curiously. "He'll be all right, what?"

"Yeah."

Hermione pointedly asked, "Are you going to be all right?"

To his two oldest friends, he found himself saying, "I feel really unwell, as though something awful could happen again any minute." He watched them share a look.

Hermione patted his back. "That will get better. Everything worked out all right."

"It's true," Harry agreed. It was true that he wasn't sitting here wishing dearly to undo things; they somehow, for once, they got undone on their own.

His friends stayed until the dinner hour when Pomfrey hinted for the third time that there had been enough visitors for one day. Hermione gave him a hug and Ron seemed to consider doing so too, but patted him heartily on the back instead. They promised to come by again the next day. In the silence of their absence, Harry wished he had something with which to occupy himself. Dobby brought dinner, roast mutton with a thick gravy. Harry lied and told Dobby he would eat it when the elf insisted that he should do so. "Harry Potter is getting stretched too thin!" the house-elf insisted in concern.

Around 8:00 Harry was trying to eat a bit of cold meat because he didn't feel like being chastised by Dobby when he came to fetch the tray. Harry was sitting up on the bed with his legs crossed, having tired of the hard chair. With a jolt he realized there were eyes upon him.

"Harry," Snape greeted him, and sat up partly against the pillows. Harry was finding the breath that had abandoned him and Snape went on. "It is still . . . Thursday, correct?"

"Yes." Harry quickly set the tray on the nightstand and slid off the bed to stand beside the next. "How are you?"

"I have been better," Snape answered slowly in his usual dry way. "But this is, nevertheless, a welcome improvement." He took a deep breath as though experimenting with breathing.

Pomfrey stepped over and brusquely checked him over before sniffing in a satisfied manner and bustling away. Snape sat up a bit farther, leaning on an elbow in a way that didn't look entirely comfortable.

"I'm glad you're all right," Harry said sincerely.

"Not as glad as I am that you came in time," Snape lightly retorted. "I didn't smell the vapor, only saw it too late."

They fell silent then, bad alternatives hanging between them.

"I didn't kill him," Harry stated, his heart twisting again as he relived that instant of tenuous self-control. "I wanted to. I could feel the curse--the real one this time." The oily power of it still vibrated through him, unused; he hoped it would fade.

Snape 's black gaze focused more tightly and he seemed to be trying to see into him. Eventually, he said, "You redeemed me with that, Harry."

Harry, still caught in the raw memory of that moment, said, "He deserved to die."

"That is not your place to decide," Snape stated. With a wince he sat up a bit farther and sighed. "Go ask the madam, will you, if I am allowed a dinner tray. Your mutton is making me ravenous."

Harry smiled for the first time that day. "Sure."


Harry sat reading a book Ginny had brought for him from the library when Pomfrey circled to extinguish the lamps. It was nearly 11:00; Harry had lost all track of time. Snape slept soundly, but not as comatose as before. His chest rose and fell regularly, reassuringly. Marking the page, Harry put the book aside and sat back to stare at the tall darkened windows across from him. McGonagall's approach actually startled him his thoughts had wandered so far from the hospital wing.

"Madam Pomfrey tells me Severus awoke." At Harry's nod she looked across at the other bed a moment before saying, "I wonder, Harry, if you wouldn't do me a favor?" At his shrug she said, "Would you cover Severus' classes tomorrow?"

"Me?"

"Yes. It is the fifth-, seventh- and first-years. I do not think you will have any difficulty, but it is up to you. We managed to cover today, somewhat, but the older students preparing for their O.W.L.s and N.E.W.T.s cannot lose even a day of preparation."

"All right," Harry heard himself saying. He had a feeling it was his boredom talking more than anything else.

McGonagall touched Harry's shoulder. "Thank you, Harry," she said in deep affection. She started to turn away, but then stopped, "You know where Severus keeps his class notes in his office?" When Harry nodded she added, "Everything has been cleaned up." She softened that with an understanding smile and a squeeze of her hand before departing.