Philomena

***The Potion***

Snape sat tiredly in his office looking over several books. He had promised Cassandra's Draught to ease the girl's visions, but he had neglected to tell Remus that half of the ingredients were illegal in eighteen countries and the other half only legal in Tasmania. He needed to alter the Formula to use more common ingredients, or at least some that Snape could procure through his various connections.

The main ingredient was human blood. It was illegal for obvious reasons and he was sure Remus would have a fit if he knew. He could, however, spare another pint or two without anybody noticing and perhaps transfigure its outward attributes while keeping the Magical properties.

Most of the other ingredients were highly illegal because they were lethal except in extremely small doses, or because they came from species of magical creatures which were on the brink of extinction.

The Potion worked, to use layman's terms, mostly to block the Magical impulse, much like a Muggle radio signal, from reaching those receptive to it. It did this by masking their blood, through which most magical impulse traveled, with another Magical Signature.

Of course, blood alone could be used, but the body quickly absorbed foreign blood and made it its own. This required that the subject be fed a near constant supply of blood, which, of course, had to be obtained in ways that usually weren't too healthy.

The other ingredients were used to preserve the integrity and Magical Signature of the Donor's blood, so that absorption would not occur. They also prevented Magical Power from the donor's blood from permeating the recipient's Power, infection of any disease the Donor might have and made sure that compatibility of blood type was not an issue.

The reason most of the ingredients were also poisonous was that they shut down normal functions of the body, such as its usual reaction to either absorb or reject foreign matter. The ingredient that locked the Power into the blood of the donor could successfully incapacitate any Wizard or Witch.

Snape sighed and continued to pour over book after book. Finally, he found enough loopholes to be able to start. He sighed to himself happily as he finally began to relax for the first time in several days. True, he had let himself go and raged in Dumbledore's office, but although that had been cathartic in the extreme, it had not helped his mood at all.

He began to scribble down frantic notes. Changing an ingredient here, altering a stirring direction there. He finally had an affordable, though still illegal, formula. In his excitement he knocked over a Dark Arts book he'd been looking through the night before on Lethifolds. It opened as it fell to the floor. As he bent to retrieve it, a sentence jumped out at him:

The Pulses of Energy which contain visions of future events, called Static Electricity by Muggles, are the main food source of the Kalgra, who absorb them into their blood at will.

Fascinated, he read further.

The blood of the Kalgra has been banned from trade, on account of its use by non-Seers in a mad attempt to read the future. It is highly volatile and causes nearly instant death by seizure unless bound by several Dark Blood Magic spells. It is also used as a narcotic when bound by Psychidelica Sanguinum and is addictive in that form.

Kalgra themselves are categorized as a Class 3a harmless magical creatures and, because of their resemblance to Mundane pigeons are not hidden from the Muggle World. Many are kept as pets by young children, who enjoy watching the Kalgra draw the Pulses of Energy from the air, causing them to become visible momentarily, usually in the form of fiery blue flames. This activity is not visible to Muggles.

Those who keep Kalgra are required to report to the proper Authorities, any time the creature bleeds -

Severus was now kneeling on the floor of his office, bent over the book. A sudden epiphany came to him. If the blood of a Kalgra transferred its power to a non-Seer, it would do the same with a Seer. Not the ability to draw the Pulses, which was inherent in Seers and was what differentiated them from normal Wizards, but the ability to do so at will.

Perhaps, he thought wildly, bound with the right spells, modifying the original potion only to block out Pulses which hadn't been voluntarily called, a Seer would result who could See at will and remember each Vision without the crippling fits.

Several hours later he had a completely new Potion. He wondered briefly what Albus would say if he knew that after having ranted and raved his heart out he had gone, not to deal with a guilty conscience, but to research and create an illegal Potion.

It was nearly eight in the evening, before he had run every test possible on the formula without use of human subjects. After several minor modifications, all tests results were positive. Best of all, a small dose of about a half a pint proved to be permanent, if not counteracted with a Blood Purging.

He grinned to himself, not even realizing that he had missed two meals. He went through his stock. All the legal ingredients in the Formula he already had on hand. Thankfully, they had to simmer for several hours before anything else was added - enough time to take a brief trip to Knockturn Alley.

He slipped easily into routine, chopping up ingredients, grinding them into dust in his mortar and beating several, thankfully already quite dead, magical snails into pulp. He set the base mixture to simmer and quietly left his laboratory.

Walking quickly through the halls, he soon reached a mirror in a third floor corridor, and tapped his wand to the frame.

"Dissendium," he whispered.

The glass shimmered and disappeared. Severus hopped over the frame and the glass closed behind him.

Snape walked forward for several yards, before a huge mound of rubble blocked him. "Dispello Glamourem," he said tiredly and the rubble shrank back to its actual form which, strangely enough, was a Muggle tin can that had once contained tomato sauce.

Severus had created the miraculous Glamour in his seventh year, when he had escaped the teachers who usually followed his every move and found the passage out of the school. Naturally, he wanted to make it his passage, to be sure that nobody else would ever be able to use it.

The Glamour was the most elaborate of its kind. Glamours were nearly always merely illusions, which had no solid form. Most Wizards could be fooled by a Glamour of a solid wall, but a mere touch and they would know at once that the wall wasn't real.

Snape's Glamour was made up of several spells. The first being of course the simple Glamour, which made the tin can look like a pile of rubble. The second, the Tacticallum, added the illusion of touch, making each brick, each splinter of wood, and even each speck of dust, real to the touch. The third part of the spell anchored it solidly in place, resistant to everything from a simple breeze to explosives. It had taken him a month.

Once passed, he recreated the illusion with "Reinstate Glamourem," and continued on his way. The main passage of the secret corridor actually went to Hogsmead, but Snape had found it branched off leading, by a bizarre twist of fate, directly to a shop in Knockturn Alley.

Snape walked easily through Mr. Borgin's brick wall Glamour, opened the door to the cupboard and stumbled into the shop. Mr. Borgin, thankfully, was alone, shelving something Snape tried very hard not to look at too closely.

"Some day, Master Snape," snapped Mr. Borgin, "you must tell me how you do that. I've put more Anti-Apparition wards on that cupboard than I can count."

"Then, obviously," said Snape, "I don't Apparate."

Mr. Borgin rolled his eyes and muttered something about Potions Masters being a sneaky lot. Snape ignored him and pushed his way out of the store. He wondered idly whether Mr. Borgin actually didn't know that the back wall of the cupboard wasn't real, or if he simply didn't want to admit to using the passage, which Snape knew had another branch going into a Muggle red light district.

Snape walked quickly and purposefully through the Alley. Nobody dared to even think about talking to him. They knew Snape's reputation and they had absolutely no desire to put it to the test. Snape was glad of the fact. He was sure he wouldn't hold out long in the weakened state the Dark Lord had left him in and he hoped he was hiding his condition well.

He reached his destination in good time, swished through the doorway, and down the stairs. Most people mocked Potions Masters for working underground in uncomfortable conditions. The truth of the matter was that most ingredients and potions were highly sensitive to sunlight, and were therefore best kept underground.

Severus reached the bottom of the stairs and knocked on the door. The person he was going to see was very secretive and didn't merely run a shop. The Owner sold items only to those whom he had tested to be sure they were "worthy Master's of the Greatest of Arts."

One never actually saw his face as it was always heavily hooded and masked. Severus speculated, at times, whether it was for protection from the law, enemies, or simply because of a disfiguring accident.

The Owner also didn't have a name that anybody knew. He was always addressed as "sir," or "Master of the Greatest of Arts," and when people spoke of him, they referred to him only as "the Owner."

"Ah," rasped the Owner, shuffling forward, "Severus. I havena seen you in a good long time, I havena."

"I have been occupied, sir," said Snape, "with merely childish potions, and haven't been able to do anything truly worthy of your interest, or your ingredients."

"Of course," said the Owner, "you've gone and found yerself a project again, ah? Something right nasty. Classified by the Ministry as a Bad Idea, Class b4."

"Correct, sir," said Severus. "I need Cassandra's Drought, actually."

"Academic interest?" asked the Owner. "Personal reasons? Highly illegal and devious reasons?"

"Actually, sir," answered Snape, "all three at once."

"Perfect," said the Owner. "I canna getchya everythang, though. There are some things even I canna get."

"I have," said Snape, "made several revisions to the original Formula, sir. Replacing Asphodel with Grillshank for example, and reducing the amount of..."

"I'll make ya a deal," interrupted the Owner. "I have, shall wa say, an interest, in such a thing. You will give ma the formula, and I'll give ya the ingredients. Accept?"

Snape gave a mental grin from ear to ear, but kept his face neutral. He hadn't expected it to be this easy. He had thought he would need to actually dip into his Gringotts vault after his visit.

"I don't know," he haggled, knowing as well as the Owner did that he wasn't serious, "the Formula could be priceless published..."

"Ah," said the Owner, "but it willna be published, will it na, Master Snape? It's illegal from top to bottom, ain't it na?"

"I suppose so, sir" sighed Snape, "but that is the price I pay for being a Master. I will give up the formula..."

"Ya may take watchya need," said the Owner, waiving a hand dismissively over the workshop. "And ya may send ma the formula tonight. But I'm warnen ya, if ah find one thing gone, that's na on the Formula, or the Formula doesna test, ah'll bring the Wrath of the Wastrel upon ya, though ah does know such behavior doesna come from a Master of the Greatest of Arts."

"Agreed, sir," said Snape, "And if your ingredients prove substandard, though I know such things would never happen in conjunction with a Master of the Arts, such as yourself, sir, I will be forced, against my will, to let it slip, in certain circles, that your quality has declined..."

"Understood, and agreed," said the Owner, "Take a batch of watchya need. Enough for a cauldron full, ya may have. How many doses would tha' make?"

"About," calculated Snape, "sixteen, I should expect. But I rather think I've found a permanent solution to the problem."

"Och," chided the Owner, "ya didna tell ma that. That's o' no use ta anyone. Those with the gift, they wanna See, even if not always."

"Ah, sir," said Snape, "that's where you're wrong. If what I've researched works, and I am quite sure it will, it will allow the Cassandra to access the world of the future at will, that is, when the Magical Pulses are available to her."

"Ya've found that?" said the Owner, gleefully, "ya've found somethin' tha' works?"

Snape nodded.

"Ah've known tha too long, Snape," said the Owner, solemnly, "Ta think tha could make a mistake in the Greatest of Arts. If ya says ya's gotta, and ya says 't works, than 't works."

Snape blinked at what, from this man, was the most elaborate praise imaginable.

"Tha can have whatevra tha wants," said the Owner, seemingly too happy for words. "Whatvra tha sees in tha shop that tha could need, tha can take't. If tha takes tha whole shop, ah'll still owe thee Master Snape."

Snape stared. Never had he seen the Owner show any emotion whatsoever. Now, however, the Owner was practically skipping, his raspy voice quivering with excitement.

"I have a copy with me," said Snape, "here."

The Owner took it, and scurried off, repeating, while leaving, "Anything tha needs, tha' ah have... anything at all..."

Snape stared at endless shelves of ingredients, unable to believe his luck. Had he known the Owner had such an obsession with the Draught of Cassandra, he would have done research into it years ago. Still, he admitted that the use of Kalgra blood would not have occurred to him without the happy accident of the book. Ironically, he realized, Albus had given it to him for Christmas, unwittingly aiding and abetting a rash of illegality.

Pulling himself together, Snape began methodically going through what was available to him. He got first every ingredient necessary for the formula, including the Kalgra blood. He supposed its popularity as a narcotic kept it in stock. He smiled wryly when he saw, "collected humanely," scrawled across the lable.

He collected ingredients that were rare and expensive, for which he had so often substituted less potent ingredients. Substances he had previously only dreamed of using. He placed each item carefully in the pocket of his robes, which was Charmed to shrink everything to fit. Severus wrote down a complete list of every item he had taken and left it for the Owner, as he knew the Owner valued honesty above all else in a quality for a Master of the Greatest Arts.

Feeling better than he had in months, Severus practically ran back to Borgin and Burkes.

"Good evening, Mr. Borgin," he called, refraining from grinning at the shocked look the man gave him, before he stepped into the cupboard.

Now that he was out of sight of any prying eyes, Severus actually did run. He sprinted down the corridor, skidding round the corners until he came to his Glamour.

He Dispelled it and Reinstated it never breaking his stride. "Dissendium!" he cried, reaching the mirror and tumbling through, landing in the hallway. Fortunately, nobody accept a beetle in the still life on the wall was there to see him leave the passage.

Now that he was back in the castle Severus took a deep breath and walked down to his quarters at his usual pace, so that nobody, not even the portraits, would notice anything amiss.

When he reached his quarters at last, he slammed the door behind him, and added extra Wards to the ones he usually had in place. He checked his potion and the time. Realizing he'd made it back in less than half an hour, and that the potions still had nearly five to simmer, he wondered what had possessed him to sprint down that passage. Clutching his side, he finally realized what it was; he was happy.

***The Potter Boy***

After he had got himself under control, Snape methodically unpacked his treasures. He had among them Ashwinder eggs, for which he had always substituted Dragon eggshells, Bicorn blood, which was illegal because of its addictive properties when used as a mind restorative potion or an energy booster, and even a jar of Nundu's breath, which he bought mainly so that nobody else would get hold of it.

He would ask Dumbledore to hide the jar someplace, letting him believe Snape had stolen it from the Death Eaters. After all, nobody was about to go up to the Dark Lord himself and say, "Lost any Nundu's breath, lately?"

He then remembered, belatedly, that he hadn't actually eaten anything since breakfast at Lupin's. He sighed to himself and thought ruefully that a day after losing several liters of blood was not the best time to forget about meals.

Snape left his rooms, trying hard not to wobble in his dizziness, and set off for the kitchens. To his annoyance, Harry Potter was there, absentmindedly eating scones while lost in a large text, his glasses pushed up on his forehead.

"Potter," he said tiredly, "thirty points from Gryffindor for..."

Harry looked up, so startled and disoriented that Snape didn't finish his sentence. The boy looked about wildly for a moment before he calmed down and replaced his glasses, apparently remembering where he was.

"Professor," he said, "sir, it isn't after hours yet, is it?"

"It's nine o'clock, barely," admitted Professor Snape. "You've half an hour yet."

"The Kitchen's aren't out of bounds, sir," said Harry carefully. "I asked Filch."

Snape sighed, and wondered why he'd bothered. Perhaps there was hope for the situation yet. There had to be a reason for Potter to be hiding his work in the Kitchens, which most students didn't know how to get to. "What are you reading?" he asked silkily, sliding forward. "Something restricted, perhaps?"

Harry sighed and handed him the book. "Not that I know of," he said. "I picked it up in Knockturn Alley, so for all I know it might be."

"You were in Knockturn Alley," said Snape intrigued. "You do know that is ... strictly forbidden to students?"

"It wasn't during the school year," Harry defended himself. "And I couldn't find a book on Legilimency anywhere in Diagon Alley. Plenty on Occlumency, of course, which is Defense, but nothing..."

Snape's eyes widened as he stared at the book in his hands. It was a very good text, explaining every intricacy of the process. It was therefore also very illegal, and hard to find. Snape had been looking for it for years.

"Mr. Potter," he said silkily, "first of all, minors are not allowed in Knockturn Alley unless accompanied by a Guardian and I seriously doubt that your Muggle relations accompanied you. Second, this book is illegal, not simply for students, but for anybody to own, sell, or purchase. The penalty is a fine of more money than most people dream about, or several years in Azkaban. Thirdly, considering all the lectures you received, you should have known better than to enter Knockturn Alley alone, knowing the number of people there who would want to kill you. Finally, I fail to see why you bothered to find this at all. Your concern is Occlumency. Believe me, Potter, the Dark Lord's mind is not a thing I would recommend playing with."

"First off, I was with Hagrid, who even though he isn't my Guardian, is definitely a big enough deterrent. Second, I told Dumbledore I was going. Third, I knew the book was illegal, and was willing to take the chance. Finally, I didn't want to learn it. I wanted to understand it."

"You told Dumbledore you were going to Knockturn Alley?" asked Snape. "I doubt, seriously, Potter, that you are telling the truth."

Potter looked a bit sheepish. "I... didn't exactly tell him I was going to Knockturn Alley," he admitted. "I told him I was going with Hagrid to pick up supplies. I may have forgotten to mention that the supplies were Flesh-Eating Slug Repellent."

Snape kept his face neutral and pressed for more information. "You wanted to understand it," he repeated. "Explain this, Mr. Potter."

Potter sighed. "I'm afraid I'm not a great Wizard," he said quietly. "I think like a Muggle half the time. I have to know what I'm fighting to defend against it. Every time I see an unknown Hex or Spell coming at me, I dodge instead of trying to block it. If I haven't practiced a Counter Hex, I dive. It's a reflex. Probably saved my life a few times, too, since in fourth year I had no idea how to block anything, much less the Cruciatus.

"And... with Occlumency, it's the same thing. I try to dodge with my mind, but my mind can't hide from the Spell, you see. So my entire instinct is useless. You've told me countless times the technique, Professor, about building mental walls, and all, and I have practiced, and it's even worked a few times. But... the attack is never the same. It always assaults me differently, and so every time, I dodge. I thought if I fully understood Legilimency and how it was used I would know how to defend against it better, know what to expect, stop trying to run."

Snape stared at Potter, trying to process the fact that Potter apparently didn't think of himself as a Wizard, let alone a great one.

"It's like fighting against someone with an invisible sword," Potter went on. "I can't see how long it is, so I can't use a shield, or parry. I have to dodge. Or... like trying to make an antidote I don't know the poison formula for.

"And now... well. You've every right to tell Dumbledore, and get me expelled. I did break Wizarding Law, and I did go against the rules you set up for me, and even against a promise I gave him, that no matter what you told me, I wasn't to learn anything about Legilimency."

Potter stared at his hands and hunched as though expecting a blow to fall.

"The Headmaster forbade you to learn anything about Legilimency?" Snape asked carefully.

Potter looked up and nodded. "He said if you began to lecture about it, I should fake a vision in order to stop you and tell him immediately."

"That man wouldn't trust me with the life of a Flobberworm," seethed Snape. "He had my promise about it. What more did he want?"

"I'm sorry," said Potter, "and I wouldn't have. Faked the vision I mean. I would have listened, I'm afraid. I wanted to know..."

"What a pity that your thirst for knowledge only surfaces in forbidden subjects," mused Snape, looking curiously at the anxious boy before him. "Whatever am I going to do with you?"

"Expel me, turn me over to the Ministry," he said morosely. "There isn't much else left."

Suddenly, Snape realized there was more to the scene than he had previously though. "Where are the house elves, Mr. Potter?"

Potter looked guilty. "They've gone to clean up a nasty spill near Myrtle's bathroom," he said. "She threw a fit."

Snape nodded, and scanned the room once more. Things had apparently been left in a hurry.

"Mr. Potter," he said finally, "we have an Occlumency lesson in twenty minutes. Please be down at my laboratory on time. Bring your books."

Potter looked up at him in confusion, and then followed his gaze towards a very interested portrait of Howard Pyle.

"Yes, sir," he said, taking his books back and hurrying off. "I'll be there."

Snape walked up to the portrait and raised an eyebrow.

"Yes, sir," said the man, "I've got it. Potter arrived in the kitchen and ate, then hurried off to his lesson. Professor Snape is still in his office, boiling mush."

"It's not 'mush,'" said Snape, as the man began to leave his frame, "but no matter. I thank you."

Satisfied that Dumbledore's most annoying, and most unreliable, spy was silenced, Snape turned his attention back to the kitchens. He picked up a basket of rolls, some butter, and tea, then headed down to deal with Potter.

Snape reached his laboratory and found Potter waiting outside.

"Idiot boy," snapped Severus, "You shouldn't have waited about outside, people could have seen you."

Potter sighed and remarked, "They all know I'm taking remedial potions."

Snape grimaced and handed Potter the tray so that he could take down the wards. Potter raised an eyebrow at the added security, but said nothing. Snape opened the door, and beckoned for Potter to follow him in.

Potter entered the laboratory and set the tray down on one of the side tables, along with the book. Snape checked the progress of the Potion. He made sure the consistency and color matched what he had predicted in his notes and that the cauldron was evenly heated at the right temperature.

Satisfied, he turned back to Potter, who was understandably nervous. Severus hadn't actually needed to check on the Potion, and probably wouldn't have for another hour, but he had needed a few minutes to think and, of course, he had needed time for Potter to squirm.

He seated himself in his favorite chair, pulling up the side table.

"Sit down, Potter," said Snape, "and tell me again. What exactly did Dumbledore say to you?"

Harry blinked in surprise. He had expected sheer torture from Snape about having broken so many rules. He hadn't expected to be asked about Dumbledore's instructions.

"About going to Knockturn Alley?" he asked in confusion, watching Snape pour himself tea, "or about the lessons?"

"No, Potter," said Snape tiredly, adding sugar, "about the blue polar bear that was rampaging in Hogsmead."

Harry blinked.

Snape relaxed, slightly. "I meant the lessons. I am a Slytherin, Potter, I care less about your methods, and more about your motives and results. So far you have been devious and successful. I want to know why."

"Dumbledore said," Harry started, "that I shouldn't learn Legilimency because it's a Dark Art. He said knowledge of the Dark leaves a ... mark on your soul. That it taints you. I said I couldn't defend against an unknown. That ignorance was the greatest weakness, that knowledge was power. I don't think... I don't think knowing something can be evil. I told him that we learn Poisons in Potions Class, while never using them. One can't make an Antidote unless one knows the Poison."

Snape nodded, buttering his roll, "And what did the Headmaster say to that?"

"He said Potions weren't a Dark Art and that it wasn't the same," said Potter morosely, "but I don't really understand anything anymore. He expects me to kill Voldemort. Everybody expects me to kill Voldemort. The only way I can think of to do that would be Avada Kedavra itself, or a physical attack. But I can't learn to cast Avada Kedavra because it's Dark. I can't even study Avada Kedavra and its effects to try and find out what exactly blocked it when I was a baby."

"For once, Potter," said Snape silkily, "I think we agree."

Harry blinked.

"Dumbledore may seem omniscient to some," Snape said, "omnipotent to others. He's the one everybody asks what to do. Remember, Potter, that nobody is perfect. You can't fight well unless you acknowledge your flaws, which, I think, I have finally managed to knock into your head this year.

"Dumbledore, too, is flawed. He has a distinct aversion to the Dark, and blinds himself to any good that may come of it. He is also not entirely wrong. He does have a reason for his belief that knowledge corrupts. When he had to take on Grindelwald, as you would know if you bothered with History of Magic, he nearly went Dark himself. He noticed the pull it had on him and cut himself off from its influence completely.

"I'm afraid he hasn't noticed your little problem, Potter. How, after all, to fulfill your destiny without use of the Dark Arts? How to defend against them? How to prepare yourself? It is, perhaps, more honorable to be on the defensive, but defense is sometimes not enough. You need a balance of Offensive and Defensive Magic to survive in a battle or a duel.

"It's like chess, Potter. You can't win by sulking in the corner of the board, making sure no pieces come near yours, and you can't win by recklessly attacking other pieces, while leaving your king alone and unguarded. Balance, Mr. Potter, is golden."

"That makes a good deal of sense, Professor," said Harry seriously. "I can believe that. I need to know these things or I won't survive. And, as much as I hate sounding melodramatic, I can't afford to fail. It's not just my life. It's the fact that if I don't kill Voldemort the chances are extremely high that he'll have a second rise to power and that nobody will be able to stop him. I wouldn't wish that world on anybody."

"I am going to make you an offer," said Severus, slipping into full Slytherin barter mode, "which you have no choice but to accept. I will teach you what you need to know. You will tell no one. In return - you will help me in the lab."

Harry blinked. "I accept, of course," he said, "since I don't have a choice. But I would like to know why you are doing this."

"Why?" Severus asked. "This school year I've noticed a difference in you. You consider options before you decide, you have managed to deceive, while nearly always telling the absolute truth. I think, as a matter of fact, that you've grown up."

Harry sighed. "It was Sirius that did it," he said quietly. "When he died it shocked me. I had this ridiculous idea that nothing could go wrong. That death only happened to the other side. That... well, it showed me that I am responsible for my actions. I wanted or needed to make sure that nothing like that would happen while I could prevent it. To anybody. And to do that I needed to fight. To fight I needed a weapon. The only weapon I have is knowledge. A wand alone won't do me any good against the Dark Lord. I need to know how to use it. And I need to know how he can use his against me. I needed to learn, and so I began to think.

"I thought a lot over the summer. I ran that day over and over again in my head, analyzing what I had done, and realizing what I had done wrong. I had been afraid to come to you again to apologize for looking into your Pensive and too lazy to practice what you had taught me. I had failed to block the vision. I had gone off on my own to try to fix everything, hadn't thought to ask you for help.

"I had failed to use my assets. I hadn't thought of the possibility of deception, because I was blinded by my belief in the vision. I had allowed emotion to cloud my judgment. I had failed to find out what was going on before acting. Finally, I failed to prevent others from falling in with me; I let the others go with me, even though I knew they could be hurt. I failed to protect them. I felt the possibility of their help worth more than the possible risk. I had made the mistake of believing I had the authority to make such a decision for them.

"And so I have made it my goal to make sure I avoid these mistakes. I will learn. I will study. I will use my head. I will look before I leap."

Snape thought about what Harry had said for a moment.

"I told Dumbledore," he said at last. "I warned him that if he didn't tell you the risks, and give you an idea of what you were up against, that you would do something stupid. He insisted, however, in protecting your innocence..."

Harry took a deep breath. "If I stay any longer, I will be out after curfew."

"You never cared for that rule before," Snape pointed out, "and you are here on my authorization."

"It's true," said Harry, "I didn't. And I wouldn't normally care, but for the fact that if I break it now, I have a very large chance of getting caught at it."

"You may take the book with you," said Snape. "Study it, learn from it, and for Merlin's sake keep it out of sight. You first lesson will be tomorrow, in that handy period between Lunch and your next class."

"Yes, sir," said Harry, rising. "I will see you then."

He walked to the door and opened it. Halfway out, he remembered something and turned back.

"Professor Snape?" he asked cautiously, "what about the points you took in the Kitchens?"

"Consider them taken," said Snape silkily, "for possession of an illegal book, illegal entry into Knockturn Alley, illicit knowledge ... and for being out of bed after hours."

Harry actually smiled. "Thank you sir," he said. "Good night."

Snape waited until Harry was well gone before allowing himself to break into a grin. This was going to be a wonderful year. He had more Research possibilities than ever before, he was going to trick Dumbledore and the entire Order, he was going to illegally teach Potter the Dark Arts, and he had the Werewolf in his debt. There was only a minor difficulty in the shape of the Dark Lord, who was too much of a madman to appreciate the situation.