After the Storm.

She didn't sound surprised when he called her, simply asked where he was and promised to be there as soon as she could. Harry put down the phone. Finding a drinks machine he bought some hot chocolate and went to the station entrance to wait. There had been no letup in the rain. The streetlamps had been on since early afternoon, but now it was becoming properly dark. As Harry watched a single headlight approached and then pulled in to the kerb. Jane lifted her visor and gave him a faint smile. 'Hi, Harry.' He put on his helmet, and wearily climbed onto the bike.

The journey out of London was terrifying and apparently interminable. Once on the M25, Jane kept the bike on the hard shoulder most of the time, and tried to avoid being overtaken by trucks, as every time this happened a bow wave of water forced them further in towards the verge where there was often debris. It felt like London, all over again, only much faster. Finally they turned off onto the M42, where the traffic eased. Harry was beginning to feel very unwell and his back, where he had been hit by Dudley's improvised missile, hurt. He closed his eyes and held on to Jane as the miles passed.

He had no idea how long they had been travelling, or where they were, when Jane directed the bike up off the motorway and into a service station. When they stopped, Harry dismounted and avoided falling only with difficulty. Her back to him, Jane did not notice, and headed off through the rain and dark. He followed her, removing his helmet and letting the water fall into his face, trying to wake up.

Within the darkened building, a shop and a single fast food place were open. Harry bought two coffees and, for Jane, a bacon roll. He, himself, did not feel hungry. Coming down with something he thought, shivering, as he sat in a corner booth of the nearly empty café. Jane found him and sat down with a sigh. She tasted her coffee. 'Yeuck.' She continued to drink it none-the-less.

'Tell me about your father.' Harry sipped his own coffee. It was worse than he'd imagined possible.

'I don't actually know him that well.' Jane put down her cup and took several deep breaths. Finally she spoke. 'Until last year, I lived with my mother. I didn't actually go to school. She taught me at home. Last year, I was accepted into university, so to celebrate, we went on holiday.' She picked up the cup and then put it down again. 'There was a sailing accident. We were dismasted and I got hit over the head.' Jane's head bowed. 'She rowed the boat ashore. I was all right, so we had supper in the town and then walked back along the beach but next morning she didn't wake up.' Harry could make out what she was saying only with difficulty, he leaned closer. 'She'd had a stroke. I was repatriated, and then I was 'taken into care'.'

'But if you're at university . . .?' Harry broke in.

'I'm sixteen. Academically, at least, I'm bright.' Jane smiled bitterly. 'They tried, I suppose. I didn't help. I ran away and managed to get into an awful lot of trouble in a surprisingly short time. I ended up in an alleyway with a bunch of thugs banging my head off a wall. Jane angrily wiped her hand across her face. 'When I woke up I was back at home, with him. My father.'

Her jaw clenched, and her next few words were uttered through her teeth. 'I was furious with him. I wanted to know where the hell had he been all those years. Miranda, my mother, had believed him dead. And the only explanation I got was a whole load of fairy tales.' She paused and drank some of the dreadful coffee, her eyes distant. 'But, given a choice between him and Social Services . . . he did sort things out. My father is a deeply strange individual, I suppose, being a wizard.' She smiled to herself. 'He absolutely terrorised the lawyers in charge of Miranda's estate, and then bitched all the way home about various people's "failure, adequately, to protect a child in their care". He's really not very nice at all, but he is a good man. He will help you.'

She took a bite of her roll, choked and then set it aside. Another sip of coffee caused her to grimace. 'I honestly do believe that this is the worst tasting stuff I have ever attempted to swallow,' she remarked.

Harry snorted. 'I wish I could say the same,' he replied remembering Polyjuice and Skelegro. 'Would you like a soft drink?' He got to his feet.

'Orange juice, please.' She smiled and pulled the phone from her pocket. Harry went and bought orange juice and plain water. He was beginning to feel very thirsty. When he returned she was busy glaring at the phone. 'Still not back,' she said. 'Thank you.' She opened the orange juice and drank it in one. 'Whenever you're ready.'

Harry drank about half the water and then closed the bottle. 'Is there room for this?' he asked.

'Of course.' She looked at him. 'Are you feeling all right? I think this place does rooms if you'd rather.'

'Stop worrying, I'll be fine.' Even to himself, he sounded terse. He got up and made his way outside into the wet and roaring night.

He tried to relax as they continued northward. He had not slept properly since the night of Sirius death and he was exhausted. He considered what might happen if he fell asleep on the bike and decided not to. Instead he watched the blur of oncoming headlights, the orange glow of cities that passed on either side of them, rolling hills and mountains and the dark shadows of trees with stars over them. He tried hard to pay attention. Even so there seemed to be discontinuities in his memory and he was oppressed by a feeling of nameless dread. At some point the storm tailed off and the bike began to move faster. There was a city with a bridge over a river, the road passing high amongst tall buildings, suburbs and then another, much higher, bridge with a view of miles down river. Soon after this, the dual carriageway stopped and they were on empty country roads passing moving black expanses of water. Nothing felt quite real, except Jane, the warmth of her body and the sound and feel of the bike beneath him.

Eventually the sky began to grow lighter, colour draining into the land: grey mountains with greens and purples below, the white of mist on the black tarmac and finally, as the bike began to descend yet again, a twisting metallic grey to the horizon. The sea, thought Harry, wondering vaguely if Jane intended to ride out over the water. Instead they turned northwards along the coast road. Harry could no longer keep his eyes open. He had opened his visor in an attempt to help himself stay awake but this caused his eyes to feel dry. It was with the utmost relief that he realised that they had turned off onto a rough dirt road. He resented bitterly the fact that it seemed to go on for at least half a mile.

The noise stopped and Harry tried to dismount. Finding himself gazing blearily up at blue sky and the undersides of flowers, he allowed his eyes to close.

Someone was carrying him. Harry glimpsed an overgrown garden and a stone terrace onto which a brightness of glass windowed doors stood open and then he was borne through into the cool, dim interior.

He was sitting, held upright by an arm around his shoulders, with his eyes screwed shut, while his head was tipped back and something horrible was poured into his mouth. Knowing better than to try to spit it out, he swallowed and was allowed to lie down. He relaxed completely.

'What happened?' A man's voice, somehow familiar.

'I got lost. I don't get lost! I ended up in bloody Surrey using my bike as a weapon to prevent one boy from killing another and after that we played tag with Dementors. I lost them on the motorway. One of them took a shortcut across the other carriageway and got hit by a truck. It splashed.' Jane's voice shook.

Harry tried to work out how he knew the man's voice. He was suddenly standing, backing away and scrabbling in his pocket for his glasses. Snape! When he could retreat no further he put on his glasses. Snape was wearing muggle clothes and, for a wonder, his hair was clean, but the expression of cold rage on his face was all too familiar. Harry turned to Jane who looked shocked and very pale. This was Jane's father? Snape's daughter was a squib? No wonder the bastard hated kids! He swallowed and wondered if Snape would simply kill him outright; if he had not already been poisoned.

'I'm sorry,' said Jane. 'I just didn't know what else to do.' Snape glared at her with scarcely less fury. She reached into her jacket and pulled out the blue stone. 'There has to be a reason for this piece of junk hauling me across three counties just in time to save his hide.' She let the stone drop back. For the first time she actually looked scared and Harry wondered if she had ever seen this side of her father before. 'He needs to contact Professor Dumbledore. Will you help him?'

Snape continued to glare at her. Minutes might have passed while they stood so in silence, anger slowly ebbing from his face. Finally Snape turned away. 'I usually do,' he conceded grimly. Pulling something from his pocket, he walked out of the doors, down the steps from the terrace to the garden and disappeared.

Jane turned back to Harry. 'Why didn't you tell me?' he demanded.

'I wasn't sure how you'd react.' She folded herself down into a seated position on one of the two rather shabby sofas that faced each another on either side of the fireplace.

'So you decided not to tell me? To make that decision for me? Don't you think that's rather arrogant?'

Jane looked up at him. Her pupils were wide with exhaustion making her eyes look black and her skin was almost grey. 'That does tend to be the consensus,' she agreed calmly. 'Harry, do you remember coming through Glasgow, because I don't. I did the last few hundred miles on autopilot and I'm tired, and I'd care more if I was sure that he's ever going to forgive me for bringing you here.' Her head bowed over her knees and she wrapped her arms around them.

'I need the bathroom,' said Harry.

Not raising her head she pointed at a door. 'Top of the stairs,' she murmured.

Opening the door, Harry found a curving wooden staircase behind it. Steep triangular steps turned it back upon itself to open onto a wide landing that held an old table entirely covered by a computer and its peripherals together with a pair of mismatched dining room chairs and a worn velvet seat underneath a window. Three doors led off, one of them open.

The bathroom was clean but appeared to have been unaltered for at least fifty years. It held a massive iron bath with lion's feet and a towel draped over it. The rest of the plumbing matched the bath. Shelving held soap, bottles of brightly coloured liquids, candles, and a model boat. Lace curtains hung at an open window that looked out over the garden. He could smell lilac. All very different from the dungeons at Hogwarts.

Harry used the toilet and flushed it. He still felt filthy and sore and he would have liked to have filled and climbed into the big old bath with its worn enamel. Then the thought occurred to him that Snape used that bath and he shuddered. He contented himself with washing his face and was drying it with the obviously clean towel from over the bath, when the very nature of reality seemed to fail.

Runic writing writhed and twisted in the walls, suddenly become insubstantial. A scream from below and sudden sense of danger had Harry out of the bathroom and taking the stairs so fast he bounced off the walls. He fell through the door at the bottom of the stairs to find Professor Dumbledore standing with his wand drawn. Around him a number of books and a vase hung in midair. Snape was on the floor, apparently unconscious, with Jane crouched beside him, staring up at Dumbledore, fear giving way to fury in her face. 'You unutterable . . . Have you even heard of ethics?' She was so angry that this ended in a squeak. Tears poured down her face.

'Professor Dumbledore.' Harry found himself moving to face the headmaster, trying to interpose himself between Jane and the old wizard.

'Harry.' Dumbledore was clearly relieved to see him unharmed.

'What's happening Professor?'

There was another squeak from Jane as she tried, and failed, to speak. She knelt beside Snape and put her hand to face, her eyes flickering over him trying to determine what was wrong.

Dumbledore spoke. 'Professor Snape will be fine if you calm down,' he told Jane. 'It seems that the house is warded to hide the use of magic and is drawing the necessary energy from him.'

Jane glanced at Harry. Then she closed her eyes and began to breath deeply and slowly. As the flying objects thumped softly to the floor, the sense of danger faded and Snape began to revive.

'What happened Harry?' The Headmaster's voice was reassuring, but he was avoiding Harry's eyes.

'Dudley didn't like you threatening his mother, so he broke my wand and then he tried to kill me.' Harry found that he too was angry with Dumbledore. 'Jane used her motorbike to drive him off and then to get me away from some Dementors that just happened to show up. So much for my being safe at Privet Drive! I couldn't even contact anyone. Is Hermione safe?'

'At the Burrow.'

Harry was amazed at the sense of relief. 'Who was supposed to be looking after me?' he whispered. 'Are they OK?

'Merely stunned. They will be pleased to know that you are safe.'

'Death Eaters?'

'I regret that the origins of these events lie, again, within the Ministry of Magic. It was decided that you would be safer in their custody and so your cousin was "persuaded" to evict you. We do not know who sent the Dementors or, indeed, if they were sent. Dumbledore glanced at Harry. 'Then what happened?'

'Jane took me to London.' Harry tugged at his shirt. 'She had to buy me these clothes. When we arrived at the 'Leaky Cauldron' we saw a Morsmordre and Aurors obliviating everyone. I decided, after last year, that I'd rather avoid the Ministry, so I went to Headquarters.'

'You took her to Headquarters?' The Headmaster's tone was grave.

'No, I didn't,' said Harry, bitterly. 'I didn't trust her. Not that it mattered. I couldn't get in.'

'The death of your godfather compromised the magic protecting the house and it has closed itself off completely.' Dumbledore told him regretfully.

'Jane had given me her mobile phone number, so I called her, and she brought me here.'

During Harry's explanation Snape had risen to his feet with Jane clinging to him like a small child. 'I'm sorry,' she whispered.

Snape pried Jane away from him. 'Which part of this mess, precisely, is your fault?' he enquired dryly. 'Jane has the "Star of Grace",' he said as if that explained everything.

'It was not destroyed?' asked Dumbledore.

'No. Regulus Black stole it on the Dark Lord's orders, but decided not to hand it over. Instead he hid it amongst my things. A decision that cost him his life.'

'Who killed him?' asked Harry.

'I did, although he was already dying. Bellatrix had been using 'Cruciatus' to interrogate him.'

'But 'Cruciatus' doesn't kill,' Harry objected.

'It does when used to break major bones. Subsequent spasms . . .' Snape stopped. 'Regulus was my friend. I gave him 'Veritaserum' knowing that, in his injured condition, it would kill him.' He turned to Dumbledore. 'And now, as you have wrongly and publicly challenged my oath to you, I am no longer bound.' His wand was in his hand.

Harry decided that he didn't like the look on Snape's face. Surely he wasn't thinking of challenging Dumbledore?'

The Headmaster had put his own wand away and he did not reach for it. 'Will you tell me why I was wrong?'

'I swore to obey you, to protect the students of Hogwarts and to serve the school to the utmost of my abilities, but what you asked was beyond me.' Snape smiled coldly. 'Miranda would never have countenanced the obliviation of her daughter, and the promise that I made to her had precedence. Her house - her rules.'

'There was a 'Contract'?' asked Dumbledore, astonished.

'Yes.'

'Why did you not tell me?'

'Because one of James Potter's little crew belonged to the Dark Lord.'

'You knew this?'

'What other explanation was there? I tried to tell you.'

The Headmaster appeared older than Harry had ever seen him. 'I am so very sorry,' he whispered. He was swaying on his feet. Although still angry, Snape pushed his wand into his sleeve, took Dumbledore's arm and led him to one of the sofas where the old man sat down.

'Jane, will you make some tea?' asked Snape and Jane stumbled away into the kitchen.

'Miranda was a muggle?' Dumbledore seemed to be trying to understand.

Snape sat down opposite him and leaned forward. 'Not really,' he said 'but then Salazar Slytherin didn't entirely lose his argument, did he?' None of this was making any sense to Harry. 'As a matter of interest, just how many so called 'Muggles' are capable of magic?'

'I really couldn't say.'

Closing his eyes, Snape rubbed the bridge of his nose with his fingers. 'So it really would not be a good idea to indulge in too much 'Muggle Baiting' would it?'

'Not really.'

Harry still didn't understand and said as much.

'Letters are sent only to those who have actually used magic,' said Dumbledore quietly, 'which means that, from the general population, only muggleborn witches and wizards of truly exceptional ability, those who are a danger to the secrecy of our world, and to themselves, are invited. Most of our students come from magical families only because those who grow up with magic are far more likely to use it.'

'But . . .that's totally unfair,' said Harry, angrily considering the implications of what he had been told.

'It avoids war,' said Snape flatly. After which there was a loaded silence, broken only after Jane came back with the tea things. She sat down and started to pour the tea into cups.

'Why would Miranda want to hide the fact Jane is a witch?' asked Dumbledore, putting in milk and sugar and handing a cup to Harry.

'I went to Hogwarts to and failed to return. Even if she had known that the Dark Lord was gone, believing me dead, she would not have sent you her only child.'

A deep calm seemed to have descended upon Dumbledore. 'Harry cannot return to Privet Drive,' he said.

'No' Snape growled.

An instant later Harry realised what Dumbledore had asked. 'NO! I CAN STAY AT THE BURROW. THE WEASLEYS WOULD WANT ME TO STAY.'

For a brief moment Dumbledore gazed at him over the top of his glasses. 'Your presence would endanger them.'

'WHY CAN'T I . . .' Harry struggled to control himself. 'Can't I stay at Hogwarts?'

'When the Ministry found out, and they would, they would assume guardianship of you. You might not be able to return to Hogwarts at all.'

'Grimmauld Place?'

'It could be months before things are resolved there. Drink your tea.' As Harry swallowed reflexively, the cup flew from his hands to smash against the wall, leaving a trail of tea across the floor.

'You . . .' Snape was standing, wand in hand, pale and shaking with rage. He opened his mouth and then closed it again. Harry wondered if he would squeak if he spoke.

Dumbledore however appeared beatific. He took a fob watch from a pocket in his robes and opened it. 'Minerva, my dear, can you tell me where Harry is now?'

'No, that can't be right.' Professor McGonagall's voice sounded flustered.

'Just tell me, what does it say?'

'At home,' she replied, 'but that makes no sense at all.'

'I will explain when I return,' said Dumbledore blithely, returning the watch to his robes. He turned to Snape. 'Law follows magic, Severus. I think that you will find that all the required elements are present.'

'No!'

Not a squeak, but still Harry hoped that he could leave soon. Then what Professor McGonagall had said struck him. At Home?

'Explain.' Jane was still sitting on the sofa, holding her tea in both hands. She looked tired but determined.

'You took Harry into your home.'

'And?'

Dumbledore smiled. 'When Dudley Dursley spilt Harry's blood and threw him out, you protected him. You saved his life, clothed and probably fed him. Your father, at your request, brought Harry into this house. These things were by themselves sufficient.' He glanced apologetically at Snape. 'However, under such circumstances, anything given to eat or drink serves to formalise and reinforce the bond. You gave him tea and he drank it.'

'But wouldn't there have to have been intent?' Jane was prepared to argue.

Again Dumbledore smiled. 'Why did you help Harry?' he enquired gently.

'I didn't want him hurt.'

'And why did you bring him here?'

'I thought he'd be safe here, that Severus would help him.'

'This is very old magic and very poorly understood, however that would appear to have been intent enough and the tea confirmed it.'

'But Harry didn't understand.'

'As a child, it was not necessary that he should.'

'Right. I'm sixteen. Have I the power to - whatever?'

'You are your mother's heir and you had your guardian's agreement,' said Dumbledore smoothly. 'Severus, we should talk.' He rose and placed a hand on Snape's arm. Snape snarled at it and pulled away. 'You should have help. Lupin perhaps?'

'Not the werewolf,' hissed Snape through his teeth.

'Then Tonks.'

'No.'

'As a known member of the Order of the Phoenix, her loyalty to the Ministry has been called into question. She has been advised to take sick leave. However, if there is someone that you would prefer . . .?

Snape scowled.

'Who's Tonks?' asked Jane.

'Nymphadora Tonks is a muggleborn Auror,' replied Dumbledore. 'She is also a Metamorphmagus and a friend of your father.'

'Hardly that,' Snape said coldly. Jane looked up at him, intrigued.

Harry decided that this had gone far enough. 'No,' he said, 'you forced the Dursleys to take me and look how that turned out. Not again.'

'Miss Norton,' said Dumbledore, 'Harry is in very real danger. At present our best chance is to hide him. Here, if you would be willing to give him shelter.'

Jane gave him a very cold look. 'You must ask my father,' she said.

'But you, yourself, would not be unwilling?'

She did not reply. Dumbledore turned to Snape. 'Severus, you know what is at stake. Will you take him in?' he asked gently.

Snape looked drained. 'Under the circumstances, I am not sufficiently foolish to refuse.' His fingers clenched on his wand as he considered Harry. 'No one else, apart from Minerva, is to know anything about this without my express permission. And Potter will agree to obey me,' he finished icily.

The Headmaster nodded sagely. 'As you agree to protect him. Tonks can bring Harry's things from the Dursleys.'

'What will happen to the Dursleys?' asked Harry tearing his eyes away from Snape.

'What do you think should happen?'

'You should never have threatened them.'

'Then you do not want to see them punished?'

Harry was feeling decidedly ill. He had just realised that it was likely that he'd be spending quite some time with Professor Snape, another unwilling host. 'No,' he said finally.

'Good,' said Dumbledore and, smiling fondly at Harry, he left.

Harry turned to Snape. 'Why did you agree?'

Snape looked up with an expression of absolute disgust, and then turned to follow Dumbledore out.

Jane was still sitting on the sofa with her tea in her hands. 'Ok Harry, you can have my room and I'll share with Tonks.'

'You don't have to.'

'Would you rather share with my father?'

'No!'

'Harry,' said Jane, 'do you want some more tea.' Actually Harry did. 'There's plenty in the pot. Cups are in the cupboard over the sink.' Harry fetched himself a cup, sat down opposite Jane and poured the tea. She sipped her own tea and watched until he had drunk about half of his. Then she put her cup down and leant forward. 'Harry, I'm happy you're here. Because if you are here, so is he. Instead of out doing whatever he does for Dumbledore.' She dragged her hand back through her hair, pulling it away from her pallid face. 'Look. I'm not interested in running a hotel so, please, make yourself at home. If you need anything you can't find, or if you need help with anything, ask. And clear up after yourself.' She rubbed her eyes. 'I'm sorry; I don't mean to be rude. I'm just . . .'

Staggering slightly, Jane stood up and went into the kitchen. She came back with two piles of towels and bedding and handed one to Harry. 'The room next to the bathroom. I'm in the guest room.' She pointed. 'My father's in the room opposite yours.' Wearily, she essayed a smile. 'If you stay out of his way, he'll probably stay out of yours. Probably. Good night Harry.'

'Right.' said Harry, dully.

She paused beside the door to the guestroom. 'Make yourself at home Harry.'

Left on his own and feeling somewhat exposed, Harry finished his tea. 'Make yourself at home,' he thought, looking at his cup. He rinsed all the cups, and cleaned up the mess made by the broken one. There was still no sign of Snape, so he made himself a sandwich, which he sat at the kitchen table and ate. He tried not to think about what he had heard. 'One of James Potter's little crew belonged to the Dark Lord . . . I tried to tell you.' Then he collected the bedding and towel and went upstairs. The door next to the bathroom opened on a small, pleasant room containing old-fashioned furniture. He made up the bed and undressed. A glance at the mirror on the front of the wardrobe confirmed that he was filthy, so he took a shower. Greatly daring, he crept back down the stairs and put the bloody clothes in the washer-dryer that he had seen in the kitchen. Then he went to bed and fell asleep immediately.