Philomena

***Conversations in the Kitchen***

As soon as the door was shut behind him Snape caught Philomena's eye and allowed a truly evil grin to overtake his face. Less then a second past before it disappeared completely. She grinned back at him.

"I do believe we did it," she whispered. "Got them, and good."

Severus rubbed his palms together, his face falling into his traditional knowing smirk. "Just wait until you hear what they start whispering."

"Did you see Podmore's face?" she giggled in undertone. "He thought he was going to die!"

"I was rather busy watching Fletcher's face," answered Snape, taking her elbow and leading her down the hall. "Stupid man..."

"Thank you for that, by the way," she said, still unable to stop grinning. "He did scare me."

He made a careless motion with his free hand. "Think nothing of it," he said. "Payment, perhaps, for all the chocolate and tea."

She shook her head. "Remus is quite put out about the chocolate, you know," she confided. "He just doesn't want to say anything about it."

Snape's lips twitched in amusement. "Suffering in silence is one of his strong points," he quipped. "Yours as well, must run in the family."

She gave him an offended glare. He gave a jerk of his head to show he hadn't actually meant it. With a sigh, she relaxed. "Why were you so adamant about not trying the Tergum Visum?" she asked.

Instantly Snape stiffened, all traces of levity gone. "Not now," he said tersely. "I'll tell you later."

Unnerved by his reaction, afraid he was angry with her, she lost her grin. "I'm sorry."

He gave an irritated grimace, but said nothing as he continued to lead her through the twisted hallways of Grimmauld Place until they finally reached the kitchen. A buzz of conversation reached their ears.

"Here you are, Ms. Lupin," he snapped, throwing the door open with a bang. "I hope you'll be able to remember your way, since I shall not take the time to lead you about again."

Unsure whether this was part of his act or whether he was truly upset with her, she simply nodded, and edged into the room.

The conversation died as they all stared at her. As usual, Molly Weasley was the one to smooth over a tense situation. "Come and sit down, dear," she said warmly, hopping up to lead the girl the nearest seat between Bill Weasley and Nymphadora Tonks. "You must be tired, have something hot."

Philomena gave Molly a smile as she sat herself. "Have a cuppa," said Tonks, helpfully pouring Philomena a cup of tea and rather unhelpfully filling her saucer as well.

Philomena was about to take a sip, but Snape snatched the cup from her. "What," said Severus, in a dangerous voice, "did I tell you about caffeine, young lady?"

The room fell into in a tense silence. "You said not for a day," she answered, bewildered.

"I said at least a day," snapped Severus, crossing the room and slammed the cup with a splash on the side table. "Just be glad you didn't asphyxiate."

With a scowl, Severus turned on his heel and stalked to his chair, which was slightly set off from the rest and helped himself, careless of what he was eating. Molly sighed, and automatically cast a cleaning charm to take care of the spill.

"Don't mind Professor Snape, deary," said Tonks dismissively, "He's an old grouch, and far too paranoid about allergic reactions."

Philomena looked towards Snape in surprise. "Professor?" she asked. "I didn't know he taught."

Snape slammed down the serving spoon he'd just used. "I'm a Potions Master," he snapped. "I live in a school and associate with academic riffraff like your father. What did you think I did?"

"Oh, I don't know," she returned, now thoroughly confused as to how much of his snapping was caused by actual anger and how much was affected, "for some odd reason I thought you were a spy or a Dark Arts expert or something. Never dreamt you'd willingly mentor children in your spare time."

Hestia Jones choked on her potatoes. Arthur Weasley tried valiantly not to snort and patted the woman on the back.

"Silly girl," said Snape. "I believe you're watching the future too closely to see what's going on right about you."

"Don't be harsh on the girl," chided Hestia Jones. "You've only just met her."

"Just met her?" mocked Snape. "I'll have you know I'm the one responsible for the talent she's flaunting."

"With all due respect, Professor," said Tonks, "the Seer Gift is inherited, not learned."

"It's just that - a gift," stressed Snape, and like any talent it's innate. It must be brought to the fore, recognized, honed, trained. I did that."

Philomena, hoping to make up for whatever she'd done to anger him flashed him a grateful smile. "He's absolutely right. I would be completely helpless were it not for him.Without his potions I would be no better a Seer than any of you. I will never be able to thank him enough."

"Stop that emotional gushing," said Snape sourly, mutilating his turnips, "you're breaking my heart."

Philomena concentrated on eating, hoping the others would simply resume their previous conversation. After a short uncomfortable silence, they did.

"What were you saying, Bill," said Hestia, "about that tomb you were working on?"

"Oh yes, that," replied Bill. "Like I said, there wasn't anybody actually buried in it, due to a very grave mistake, if you'll pardon the pun."

Arthur let out a snort of laughter that he covered with a cough when he caught his wife's frown. Snape shook his head in disgust, and crossed to the cabinet on the far side of the room.

"Did they forget the coffin?" asked Emmeline in a bored tone, "or did they somehow manage to destroy the body in the process of trying to preserve it?"

"Worse," said Bill. "They decided to test the Wards before the funeral, but they couldn't take them back down in time for the funeral, as they'd not developed the Wards with a cancellation clause. Our historian speculated that they didn't inform their customer, ran off with the offerings, and disposed of the body covertly. They might even have done it on purpose, knowing nobody could enter the tomb to check whether all was in order."

Arthur, being seated at the head of the table, was the only one who could see Snape get out a large tumbler and fill it with milk. Hiding his surprise was difficult as he watched the Potion's Master add cocoa and stir with the same precision he would use for a Calming Draught.

"How did you break the wards, then?" asked Philomena.

Bill fingered his earring carelessly. "The Wards were extremely complicated, specific types of attack triggered different Curses. Like a booby trap, really. There were provisions in the Spells that prevented everything from a crowbar, to Avada Kedavra, unleashing the most terrible Curses on the intruders... Mind Leaching, Irreversible Transfiguration..."

"Seems a lot of work for nothing," sniffed Emmeline Vance. "There was nothing in it, why bother breaking it? What good did it do you or the bank?"

"There were two reasons to destroy it," replied Bill, "The first was that the Goblins are looking into replicating some of the Curses to protect the bank, in particular one intended to freeze time for the robber until apprehended. The other reason is Anti-Muggle Security. There have been several attempts by their archeologists over the years to open the tomb because of the records of the lavish burial treasure, but they've all disappeared, or been killed, you see, and it was only a matter of time before the Muggles realized something out of the ordinary, for them anyway, was going on."

"You still haven't told how you broke the Curse," Hestia pointed out blandly, tucking a stray strand of dark hair back behind her ear.

Bill grinned. "Dynamite."

"Dynamite?" repeated Arthur eagerly, excited enough to tear his eyes away from the odd sight of Severus casting a very precise warming Charm on his glass of cocoa. "That Muggle equivalent of an Irradicus? You didn't tell me! You took pictures, I hope."

"That's impossible," protested Emmeline, ignoring Arthur, "If the Wards were so strong, a Muggle device couldn't possibly have-"

"That's where you're wrong," interrupted Bill. "You see, the Curses are all set to specific triggers. They didn't have anything set for a dynamite attack since they didn't know such a thing existed. Sometimes, a Muggle device is the only way to subvert Magic, except those relying on electricity - they tend to go haywire around large amounts of Magic."

"I don't see why there wouldn't be a trigger for an explosion," mused Arthur. "I was sure Muggles knew about explosives for quite some time and I know those chaps were paranoid about grave robbing. They'd be just as worried about a Muggle attack as a Wizarding one."

"But they didn't have them until at least the ninth century, common time," said Tonks. "And I'm sure the tomb Bill's talking about is at least a thousand years before that."

Bill nodded. "That's right," he answered. "Even when they did have explosives it was a while before they used them for more than fireworks."

Snape slunk behind Philomena's chair and abruptly slammed the perfect glass of hot chocolate next to her plate. She started so violently that she nearly fell into Bill's lap.

Philomena took a deep shuddering breath as she righted herself. Her eyes darted from Snape's face to the glass and back again, as she realized that this was his way of not only apologizing for his earlier snapping, but also of furthering the plan of deception. She smiled quickly to show she understood.

"Drink that," he said, returning to his place, "before it becomes insipid at room temperature."

Snape returned to attacking his meal as though nothing had happened. "What were the Muggles told?" he asked.

"What Muggles?" asked Tonks distractedly, staring at Philomena's glass as though afraid it was about to bite somebody.

"Tomb. Egypt. Explosion," clarified Snape sourly. "Surely they asked questions?"

Bill swallowed. "Not my department. I just studied the Wards until we could determine how to dismantle them."

Philomena sipped her drink and smiled at Severus, who scowled back though he understood that she'd accepted his wordless apology.

"So, you simply detonated it?" asked Philomena. "Surely that didn't cancel all the Wards? There must have been some attached to the stone itself and the triggers have yet to be tripped."

"Well," explained Bill, "an explosion, if strong enough, can physically separate Magic from the object charmed. The object reverts to its original state and the Magic diffuses into the atmosphere as harmless Neutral Essence."

"I see," said Philomena. "In that case, wouldn't an Irradicus have the same effect?"

"Because the Irradicus is Magic," explained Bill, "and as such recognizes other Magics as part of their Objects. Even if it hadn't been Warded against, it would have caused more harm than good, simply physically destroying the place leaving shattered pieces of rock still imbued with horrific Trigger Wards. They could scatter over a tremendous area, be impossible to find and, worse yet, impossible to neutralize due to a scrambled and altered Essence."

Hestia put her chin in one hand and carelessly twirled her fork in the other. "So, why can't you use the same explosive on Gringotts? Or Diagon Alley?"

Snape let out a growl low in his throat. "Just what we need, Jones," he said, "to destroy the entire Wizarding World with a Muggle device. I assure you, there's little chance of that happening unless we do it. Any Dark Wizard with his self respect wouldn't even know such a think existed."

"Dark Wizards have no self respect," snapped Emmeline Vance, "and even if they did, we would be foolish to dismiss any risk unnecessarily."

"Emmeline," said Arthur, in an attempt to keep the peace, "we know that Wizards from all walks of life can turn to You-Know-Who. He's been known to temporarily overlook less than perfect Blood in a follower if he is a good enough asset and their status is not generally known. It is quite possible that he would recruit a Muggle Born who could suggest the idea, which could-"

" - not happen," finished Bill. "Wizard, particularly the Elitists, have a very warped idea of what Muggle explosives are capable of. Besides, Gringotts, as I'm sure you know, handles Insurance for most of the Wizarding World. It would be devastating to them should a large disaster destroy Diagon Alley or Hogsmeade. They spend an exorbitant amount researching possible disasters, then creating and testing Wards against them. All publicly owned Wizard land in countries that Gringotts has bases in is Warded. I led the team that did it myself. It was one of my first missions."

"I thought you were a Curse Breaker," said Emmeline.

Bill shrugged. "It's not all I do for the Bank. My team periodically checks the Wards, making sure there hasn't been the slightest irregularity or weakening. We also apply new Wards as they are added to Policy."

Just then Remus opened the door causing the room to fall silent once again. "Severus," he said, "Albus wants to talk to you. He's in the study."

Severus dropped his fork and arose. "He'll have to get out of the study, then," he snapped. "That room is cursed."

The kitchen door slammed behind Severus with a bang. Remus looked around the room and realized that Hestia and Bill were staring at him with curiosity, while Emmeline looked down her nose at him.

Tonks jerked her chin towards Philomena and asked loudly, "Well?"

"Well what?" Remus asked, daring them to ask him for the information they wanted directly. "Albus wanted more information on the Wards that failed."

Philomena raised an eyebrow, guessing that by 'wards that failed,' he referred to Ralf's entry in spite of the Fidelius.

"Have some pie, Remus," said Arthur quickly, hoping to avoid any embarrassment. "It's quite good."

"How could it be otherwise?" asked Remus lightly, taking the chair between Hestia and Severus which was normally empty. "Your wife made it and Mundungus recommended it."

"That man needs a shave," said Molly sourly, quickly making a subtle cutting off motion in Hestia's direction since she looked about to ask Remus a question.

"Not as badly as your son needs a haircut," returned Emmeline, annoyed that Molly had tried to silence them like one of her children.

"It's my hair," snapped Bill, who had missed the silent exchange between the women, "and before you say it, it's also my ear!"

Remus smiled, glad the subject had been changed.

"So, Remus," asked Hestia, who hadn't understood Molly's signal, "where have you been hiding her all these years?"

Caught off guard, Remus' smile froze.

Philomena, who had been expecting questions, answered quickly, "Naturally I didn't live with him before but now, with the Wolfsbane, it's possible."

Remus looked down to hide his face. He knew the others had never really been comfortable knowing his 'condition,' and he didn't like discussing it. They usually ended up uncomfortably fidgeting, unable to find anything positive to say when reminded of his Curse.

Setting her jaw, Molly rose, reheated Philomena's much-abused cup of tea and handed it to him.

"I'm sorry, Remus," said Molly briskly, "I should have realized. Have some tea, it'll make you feel better."

Remus, used to her method of consolation, accepted it quietly. "Thank you, Molly."

"Well?" demanded Molly. "What are you all looking so horrified for?"

Wordlessly, Philomena went to her father and laid a hand on his shoulder. "Come, love," she said softly. "Let's go home."

He shook his head, not looking up. "I'll need to talk to Severus when Dumbledore's through with him."

Philomena shot Emmeline a glare over his head. "Come, love," she said again. "Your head must still hurt. You need to lie down."

Remus, gladly grabbing onto her excuse, raised a hand to his head and prodded it gently. "Yes, it does still throb a bit," he said rising, "and I could rest a bit in the other room until Severus is finished."

Philomena put her arm about him and led him from the room. "Tell Severus I'm in Regulus' room," said Remus, as they left. "It's about the Fidelius."

With another pointed glare over her shoulder to discourage anyone from following, Philomena shut the kitchen door firmly behind them.

Molly held up her hand for silence as she opened the door a crack to make sure they were out of hearing, before rounding on them.

"Just what were you thinking?" she snarled. "How dare you even bring it up?"

"I didn't think -" began Hestia.

"Precisely," snapped Molly. "You didn't think that Remus never does anything without a good reason. You didn't think that he's been obviously not himself all night, that's he's very uncomfortable with the situation. You didn't think to notice that he deliberately said very little about the girl or her origins.

"You didn't think that perhaps the answers to what you were asking could be very painful memories for him. You didn't think that considering his condition and the laws he's put his life in your hands! You obviously weren't thinking about anything but your petty desire to know everything about everybody and stick your nose into other people's business!"

The bell of the lamp above Molly's head rang slightly as she finished. Arthur, sure the storm had passed, took her arm. "Now, Molly, dear," he said, "stop yelling at the poor girl. She didn't mean it."

Molly huffed and tossed her chin. "No respect for human dignity, you lot have," she snapped, "nor any sense of tact."

"Not that he's really human," said Emmeline, sniffing. "And that was a very poor excuse for him to run off and not explain."

This was the wrong thing to say as it set Molly off again. She stalked over to the woman, put her hands on her hips, and glared down at her.

"I have had enough of your prejudiced idiocy," she shouted. "'A Muggle device couldn't possibly,' you say. 'He's not really human' you say. Don't you realize that this is what we're fighting against? The type of closed minded, bull headed stubbornness that enabled You-Know-Who to rise to power? How dare you? He doesn't need to explain himself to you!

"I know you're set in your ways, Emmeline, and I know you've long traditions, your civility to uphold, your family pride, but you see, Emmeline, I don't give a damn!"

Hestia paled and Tonks hair fell back to its original limp mousy brown. Neither could remember ever having heard Molly swear in the least before and to hear her say 'damn,' could only mean that she was extremely peeved. Bill fingered his earring and exchanged a sympathetic long-suffering glance with his father.

Emmeline slammed a hand on the table. "You don't give a damn for tradition Molly Weasley?" she shouted. "That's no news! You're a disgrace to the Prewett name, you are! I knew your mother and she's probably rolling in her grave!"

"My mother is not dead!" roared Molly.

"Then this will kill her," snarled Emmeline. "To know there's a Werewolf in the Order, not to mention a Death Eater. And now, we're letting some little ninny, barely twenty, just waltz in with no guarantee whatsoever of her identity and just a mere party trick to 'prove' her abilities! A pretty pass, Molly Weasley, a pretty pass! We're digging our own graves, we are! We can't fight against the enemy, if the enemy is in our own RANKS!"

"Remus has proven his loyalty time after time," shouted Molly, "as has Severus. I trust their judgment - and if the judgment of a Prewett, the judgment of a Weasley isn't good enough for you, prissy, then the judgment of the Supreme Mugwump ought to do in a pinch! Do you think you know better than Albus Dumbledore?"

"You can't hide behind Albus, Molly!" snapped Emmeline. "This Order is only as strong as its weakest members! We cannot afford to let men as strong as he is to be bogged down by... by Dark Creatures!"

Molly took a deep breath and when she spoke again it was in a whisper, but a powerful one, quivering with fury, each word pronounced slowly with the utmost venom. "Emmeline Vance. You should know better than to think we simply are fighting You-Know-Who, or even his Death Eaters. We are fighting his ideas. Ideas you obviously share, about the supposed purity of blood guarantying character. If all those of 'impure,' descent are inferior, with mediocre talent, then how do you account for yourself?"

Emmeline rose to her feet as though she'd been slapped. "How dare you," she snarled, her hands curling into fists. "How dare you!"

"Ha!" crowed Molly triumphantly. "There you have it! You don't care that I insulted your loyalty or your courage. You cared that I insulted your blood. Remus Lupin was the only one we denied a place in our Order during the first war despite repeated requests from others that he be included and despite a guaranty of his character from not only James Potter himself, but Minerva McGonagall as well! Both he and Severus remain the only ones we've ever seen fit to question under Veritaserum of their loyalties before allowing them to participate. They've proved enough! I don't think you have!"

"How dare you!" shrieked Emmeline. "How dare you?"

"I dare because I have an open mind!" seethed Molly. "I can think for myself! I do not blindly place my trust in things like blood! I allow myself to think, to judge, to decide for myself whom to trust. The weakest faith is the faith that never doubts. Only a strong mind can overcome doubt after doubt and still believe.

"I've doubted every person in this room - yes, even my husband. I have even, on occasion, doubted Albus. And now, Vance, I doubt you. And I hope to Merlin I can find a good reason to have faith in you again."

"Hestia," said Emmeline, desperately, "you know I'm right, don't you? You know she's wrong!"

Molly turned to Hestia as well, smiling a very predatory smile. Hestia licked her lips nervously.

"I don't know," she hedged. "I... I've only just joined the Order a year ago and I am no judge of any of that."

"You see, Molly Weasley?" sneered Emmeline. "The type of Witch we admit, not even thirty, hasn't even got the sense to judge other members after a whole year of working with them."

"Which is better?" returned Molly dangerously, "to refuse to judge, knowing it isn't one's strong suit, or to judge based on outmoded classifications?"

Insulted, Emmeline tried to think of something to say, but failed. Finally, she settled for tossing her head and stalking from the room.

Bill released a sigh of profound relief that unfortunately proved to be premature.

"I can't believe the woman," ranted Molly. "Her and her 'purer than thou,' attitude."

"Eh, Molly, dear," said Arthur. "I think... I think you need a nice relaxing cup of tea, or..."

"Cup of tea?" shouted Molly, rounding on her husband. "You think I want a cup of tea at a time like this?"

"Well," said Arthur, "if you'd rather I bean Emmeline with a crusty roll..."

"Molly," said Tonks, in a small voice, "I didn't know Remus was... with anybody."

"That's none of your business!" snapped Molly. "And shame on you for asking him! If you'll just think about it for a bit, would you stay with a man if you knew that every month he'd become a complete monster and a danger to your children?"

"Yes," answered Tonks fiercely. "If I loved him."

"I wouldn't," answered Molly. "Merlin help me, but I wouldn't. I wouldn't care how much he promised to be careful; I wouldn't care how strong the chains on the basement door were. Can you honestly say you'd stay with a man was not always in control of a mad desire to tear you to pieces?"

Tonks winced and looked at her feet. "I don't know," she answered miserably. "I don't know."

"Poor man," sighed Hestia. "She must have left him when she found out there'd be a baby. Makes sense, you know. In love, you don't care about yourself, you're reckless as anything but you'll fight tooth and nail for your child."

"I forbid you to ask him about it!" Molly was nearly hysterical. "All of you! Don't you dare mention it to him! As if he needs more on his mind now."

"I'm sorry Mrs. Weasley," said Hestia. "I didn't mean it."

"Poor Remus," said Molly sadly. "He's had such a hard time of it, poor boy, and ... and... there isn't anything I can do for him. Merlin help me, but... Arthur... I can't help but - but check the lunar charts every time we have a meeting... I'm afraid of him."

Molly began to cry, and Arthur quickly gathered her into his arms. "He's so young," she sobbed into his shoulder, "and the gentlest thing this side of Mars and it isn't his fault, but I'm afraid of him..."

Arthur caught Bill's eye and jerked his chin towards the door. Nodding, Bill rose and pulled Hestia and Tonks from the room, shooting a last concerned look over his shoulder, which Arthur was too busy comforting Molly to see.

***Tergum Visum***

Severus billowed from the door and left the Kitchen. For a moment he almost felt sorry for Lupin. The women were bound to question him to distraction, particularly Tonks and Emmeline.

When he reached the door to the study, he knocked on it briskly.

"Severus?" called Dumbledore from the other side. "Come in, my boy."

"I'd rather not," replied Snape serenely.

After a moment, Dumbledore emerged. "Really, Severus," he chided, "you don't seem the superstitious type."

"The room is cursed," said Severus shortly.

"Nonsense," said Dumbledore lightly. "I've been through it; there's absolutely no Negative Energy."

"Negative or Positive Energy are not analogous with Light and Dark Magic, Albus," snapped Severus. "Might I remind you that you were the one that insisted there was no Chamber of Secrets?"

Dumbledore looked abashed, but only slightly. "Well, we might as well not talk in the hallway," he said. "I hope you realize that you're actually agreeing with Sirius Black about something."

"As much as I loathed the man," said Snape tersely, "I can say I knew him well. He was not a liar. He has always told what he believed to be the absolute truth even when it was not to his advantage. 'I killed the Potters,' indeed."

Dumbledore began to hum tunelessly to himself as he shuffled down the hall. Severus followed him a few paces behind to compensate for the older Wizard's slower gait. Finally, they reached one of the old disused bedrooms. Dumbledore opened it and sank into an overstuffed wingback armchair, gesturing to Severus to take another.

Grimacing, Severus surveyed the room, seating himself gingerly on the edge of the chair. "Have Moody check that clock, it bothers me."

Dumbledore nodded as though that was the most obvious thing in the world and said, "I've just had a nice little chat with Remus."

Severus gestured for him to go on, feigning just the right amount of impatience.

"He told me a great deal about his connection with the Ralf fellow," said Dumbledore, "and I should like to apologize."

"As usual," grumbled Severus, looking at his hands. "You believe him over me."

Dumbledore shook his head. "No," he said. "I didn't believe you alone, nor would I have believed Remus had he claimed what you have. But both of you, claiming the same, that I can believe."

"For somebody who claims to have absolute faith, you are rather fickle," said Severus. "Was that all?"

"Severus, my boy," said Dumbledore, "I didn't distrust you. I believe, and always have, that you act for the best; you have never failed me. I simply had a suspicion that, with the best of intentions, you were keeping things from me."

"There is one thing I would like to inform you of," said Snape, "and now's as good a time as any. The boy is watched well enough, but his things must be watched. It's not urgent as yet, probably won't be for a few weeks at best, but plans could change abruptly."

"Why?" asked Dumbledore urgently. "What's been planned?"

"Blood Magic," said Snape quietly. "I've no hand in it officially, but I'm doing my best to sabotage the project from within. I can't tell you how, and if you trust me as you say you do, you shan't ask. The plan has been to infuse some object of the child's with very powerful Negative Energy."

"They've no blood of his, though," protested Dumbledore. "As long as he's safe, there should be no need to -"

"They're not using his, they're using the Dark Lord's," explained Snape. "You'll remember that it was Potter's blood he used to resurrect himself. It is now Potter's blood, on a subliminal level at least, which runs through his veins."

"Whose blood is the trigger?" asked Dumbledore, his face set and grim.

Severus briefly allowed his despair to show. It took a moment for Dumbledore to realize what his spy was trying to tell him.

"I'm sorry," said Dumbledore finally.

Severus looked up in surprise. "Sorry?"

"How far along is the project?" asked Dumbledore, abruptly switching to a more businesslike manner. "Should I inform the others?"

"Not yet," said Snape. "Not while there's a chance I can save things from within. It's better Potter doesn't know of every plan for his life, and you know somebody would end up telling him about it 'for his own good,' if they knew. I assure you I'll notify you should things come to the point where I need the assistance of the rest of the Order. They're needed more where they are now."

Dumbledore hesitated momentarily, but decided that Severus needed a proof of his trust. "Tell me the moment you need our help," he said at last. "Be careful."

"During the Occlumency sessions," Snape said suddenly, "I've seen increasing images of his nightmares. Not visions, his own personal nightmares. Do you know what he fears most of all?"

Apprehensive, Dumbledore slowly shook his head.

"You know, about his relatives?" asked Snape, before continuing without waiting for an answer. "Until he was eleven they kept him in a cupboard. His dreams are full of rooms which begin to close in until there's barely room for him to move a finger. The boy is claustrophobic."

Dumbledore sighed, his face a mixture of guilt and sorrow. Snape was expressionless.

"I had to leave him there," sighed Dumbledore. "I had to. Otherwise, he would have been..."

"You merely made a single possibility less probable," contradicted Severus. "That isn't the point now, however, Headmaster. He must be given room to move. Hogwarts is not a claustrophobe's nightmare; the rooms are all large; the hallways aren't narrow; there are plenty of windows. The Great Hall's ceiling is especially liberating, with its silly enchantment. But keep a man in a place and prevent him from leaving, no matter what its size... a prison is a prison, Dumbledore."

"We can't let him out of sight," protested Albus. "Especially after what you've just told me."

"You are used to doing what is right for the boy, or what you believe is right, in spite of what you feel or what he thinks," said Severus. "But his mind is very ... impressionable. He has practically no self-confidence; a very insecure child. I would rather he be overconfident without escort, than escorted and fearing for his life."

Dumbledore didn't respond, but seemed to be deep in thought. Severus quickly pressed his advantage, saying, "He's skittish now, more than he was before. He's afraid, not only for himself, but for the others and you have made it worse by not letting him move. He's afraid he'll be trapped in the castle while his friends are, perhaps, attacked in Hogsmeade. I am asking you, Headmaster, just give him an emergency Portkey and call off his guards.

"Worse yet, he now firmly believes that he is the only one who can keep his friends safe and that whatever happens to them is his responsibility. You've reinforced that by praising his deeds without punishing his extreme recklessness. You've merely increased his sense that his own safety is somehow worth less than that of others."

Dumbledore considered. Severus, who never admitted to needing help, had personally asked him, not suggested, or told, but asked him to do something for the good of a boy he had no affection for. Severus had also raised his voice to him, while he was normally impeccably polite to the Headmaster regardless of disagreements. There had to be even more reason than he was letting on to make him as agitated as that and Dumbledore was afraid as to what it could mean for Harry Potter.

"What about the Tergum Visum?" asked Dumbledore finally. "It would give him protection without needing to be watched, or to stay in one place."

"Albus," Snape said icily, "the Tergum Visum is possibly the worst thing to inflict anybody with. Would you take away his humanity Albus? Are you willing to do that, to keep your weapon safe?"

"He's not a weapon, Severus," said Dumbledore heavily. Severus had called him Albus, not Headmaster, not Dumbledore, but Albus; he only that name when he was deathly serious. "His humanity?"

"You know how the Tergum Visum works," spat Severus. "It replaces the instincts of the Subject with an animalistic sixth sense. It cannot be undone and it is not safe. Even if we had a Subject from which to transfer it, it could quite possibly incapacitate him for months or even kill him."

"Not fully human," mused the Headmaster. "Wandless Magic..."

"Merlin, Albus!" swore Severus. "Are you really that heartless? No one can claim that I'm a very merciful person but even I would not take away the very humanity of a boy, not yet eighteen, to give me a tactical advantage in a war - besides, if he did not receive the gift of Wandless Magic along with Parseltongue, he shall never develop it. "

"It might seem heartless," said Dumbledore, "as do other things I have done, but I am much older than you are, Severus. I have seen much more and I realize that sometimes a small harm is necessary for the greater good. I have spent most of my time agonizing over the relative values and risks of certain things, which, Merlin preserve me, were somehow made my decision. I am merely trying to keep the boy alive and to help him fulfill his destiny. To be sure, there have been times when my decisions have hurt him, but I considered those hurts worth their benefits."

"It's a good thing it's impossible to cast upon him now, isn't it?" said Severus in a dangerous whisper. "A good thing we've no one to transfer it from and a very good thing you didn't think of it when he was born.

"Yes, I know, sending him to live with his relations was necessary. Leaving him there, when you know he's ignored, even starved there, is necessary. Locking him up until he goes insane is necessary.

"It was necessary," continued Severus bitterly rising from his chair to pace about the room. "Necessary as it was not to stop him from his various 'rescue missions,' and praising him when they've fallen in his favor. I don't deny he deserved a fair praise for some of it but he should also have received a warning not to try something of that nature on his own again. The lesson he's learned was that it's best to work in secret, hiding from his mentors, that it is was up to him alone to save those in trouble. He should have learned to go to a competent adult with such grave concerns."

Severus fell into lecture mode, as was his wont when he was excited about a topic. He began to pace about the room, his stride lengthening as the pace of his words increased steadily.

"Do you know what will happen, Albus? Perhaps has happened already? That he thinks his danger, his pain, is worth nothing. That he must put himself in the line of fire to save others. Don't be surprised if he sacrifices his life for this cause of yours, helped on ever so much by your 'difficult decisions.'"

Severus broke off, breathing hard. Blood pounded in his ears as he tried to calm himself down. He turned away from Dumbledore and sank into the chair, putting his head in his hands. Neither spoke for a moment, until Severus finally raised his head, sighing heavily, "I'm sorry, headmaster. I should not have said that."

"I'm glad you did," Dumbledore answered simply.

"You never thought of the fact that he's not an idea but a living breathing person who can think for himself, did you?" asked Severus tiredly, no strength left to snap.

Dumbledore sighed. "It is hard," he said. "I knew when it first happened, what sort of home he'd grow up in if he were brought up in our world. I knew it would be better for him to grow up not knowing. Though I did hope for him to be brought up well, to be loved, and that they would tell him when he was old enough to know."

"You knew what sort of people they were," Snape chided quietly. "You simply decided the risk was nullified by the potential gain."

Dumbledore sighed. "His Occlumency," he said, suddenly smiling again. "Is going well?"

Severus nodded, "It is progressing slowly," he replied, conveniently not mentioning that the boy was still not finished with his study of Legilimency and therefore hadn't been training much at all, not to mention busy learning Avada Kedavra.

"Well then," said Dumbledore, bouncing to his feet, once more his characteristic collected self, "you will tell me more of his doubts and insecurities as you learn of them. The more we know about the boy's psyche, the better we can -"

"You want me to spy on him," Severus interrupted, "since you still cannot face speaking to him on your own. I understand."

Dumbledore sighed. "What is it about the Tergum Visum that bothers you so much? I haven't seen you this agitated since..."

Severus stood and turned away from Albus, crossing his arms. "Neville Longbottom," he said shortly. "You can see the good it's done him."

Whatever Dumbledore had been expecting, that hadn't been it. "Frank and Alice's boy?" he breathed. "I knew they'd been thinking of casting it at the time but I was never sure if they'd actually done it before the attack. Then we do have someone from which to transfer! I'm surprised I didn't realize it before - he was exceptional in the skirmish at the Ministry, quite the opposite of his usual self. I knew it didn't seem right. Yes, yes, I see it now! The Spell would have informed him quite well where the danger was..."

"You cannot transfer a Spell that has miscarried," Severus explained, keeping his back to the Headmaster. "The Tergum Visum is intended, as you know, to provide an advance warning of attack or potential danger. Why do you think the boy is as terrified of me as he is? The Spell was miscast - he can only see the potential of Offensive Magic. You'll notice he's equally terrified of you, and even of Potter himself to a lesser degree. The Spell's denied him any sense of perspective of likelihood of an attack.

Severus began to pace about the room in agitation as he went on. "Imagine it, Albus. Everywhere that boy walks his mind automatically categorizes every person he sees by their ability in Offensive Magics, his every instinct telling him take cover, to hide until all danger is passed."

Dumbledore's eyes narrowed as Severus continued to rant, accenting his words with agitated gestures, sweeping about the room.

"Imagine," Snape continued, his voice steadily rising in volume, "sleeping in a dormitory with four or five other boys your mind kindly informs you are quite capable of seriously harming you; being in a class knowing your professor is more than able to kill you. Imagine having a divided mind, the rational half of which tells you that certain people are to be liked and trusted, while your every instinct is to attack or run from them on account of their power.

"And that," finished Snape, now deathly quiet, "is only one of the ill effects you would risk were you to attempt a Tergum Visum on Potter. I say again, thank Merlin we've no one to transfer it from."

"I suppose it's all for the best," said Dumbledore. "May the rain fall where it must."

"I hate that expression," griped Severus sourly, seating himself again.

Dumbledore smiled inscrutably. "Of course."

Severus took a deep breath, before finally deciding to tell the Headmaster something that had been on his mind for some time. "Sir," he began tentatively, "do you know much about Scrying?"

Albus' blue eyes widened slightly, wondering how he'd been caught, before he rearranged his face in an expression of friendly interest. "Scrying, Severus?" he asked.

Severus nodded. "Twice in the last week I've had the uncomfortable feeling that I'm being watched. I would know if it were someone in the room, no matter how well they hid. I am sure they watched from quite some distance, though the distance varied. I've searched, but I haven't been able to find a defense against them, and... one of the instances was in Hogwarts itself and if they can watch me, they can watch you, not to mention Potter..."

"You've not been able to find a defense against them," said Dumbledore, "because there isn't one. They're quite inconvenient, you know; throw a nasty twist into Metaphysical Theory by defying all the rules. We really must chat about it over tea some day; I believe I've a book on the matter in my office somewhere, you know, right next to the one about Circle Magic."

Severus blinked. "The matter is quite serious, Headmaster or I would not have brought it up."

Dumbledore nodded. "Yes, yes," he said. "However, there's nothing we can do about it, except behave with extra caution when you know yourself to be under surveillance."

Severus gave an exasperated sigh and leaned back into his chair.

Dumbledore leaned forward in his chair, a look of keen interest on his face. "Tell me, Severus," he asked, "how did you know you were being watched?"

Severus tensed. "It doesn't matter, I was probably imagining it," he lied. "I'm sorry for bothering you."

"No matter," said Dumbledore, "no matter at all. Any trouble of yours is a trouble of mine."

Severus tried to refrain from snorting and succeeded, barely. "Which just means what I've told you bothers you for some reason but you're not going to tell me."

"Now, now, Severus," said Dumbledore, "you've not given me a straight story in a Griffin's age, always the absolute truth, but always stretched. Allow me a little fun of my own? Tell me, how far was the distance you ... sensed? From the watcher to you, I mean."

Severus grimaced. "The first time it was quite close, which worried me," he answered. "The second time it seemed quite far off, almost unnoticeable."

Dumbledore nodded absently popping some sort of sweet into his mouth. "Anything you wish to tell me?"

Snape sighed. "If there were, I'd have told you."

"Quite, quite," murmured the Headmaster. "Take care of yourself, Severus, and mind you get some sleep. I don't want you fainting in class, or worse yet on a mission. It would ruin your reputation."

"When I'm in danger of a vasovagal episode, Headmaster, I shall see Poppy," snapped Snape, rising to his feet. "If you don't mind, I have a Werewolf to badger about nearly missing his Wolfsbane in the presence of children."

With a curt nod and a dramatic sweep of his robes, Severus left the room. The Headmaster watched him leave, then allowed a wide grin to break over his face.

"Severus, Severus," he muttered to himself, "I see. It's all very simple. Wolfsbane. The girl... The pin. It's all connected, but how?"

The headmaster leaned back in his chair and propped his feet on the coffee table, revealing bright lime green knee-high socks. Lazily, he watched the pendulum of the clock Severus had objected to swing from left to right and back again.

"Question is," the Headmaster mused, "what's the pin? And what's been given for what? They've both said they owed the other a favor, who went first? Curious, curious."

The clock ticked loudly, incessantly. Albus tsked along with it, deep in thought.

"Ah ha," he said finally, nodding to himself. "I see it, I see it. They've set it all up to fool me and they might have succeeded were it not for... It's all too fantastic; they're overplaying their hands.

"Simple answers to complicated problems. They arranged the scene with Ralf - I know I gave Severus an entrance slip to Headquarters in case of emergency a while back that he never used - he must think I've forgotten about it. That's how they let that Ralf fellow in; it was all staged. Kneeling about on the floor, how ridiculous.

"Then they spring the girl on me, knowing I'd make a connection between the two, yes, that's it. Question is, why does Remus go along with it all? The pin...that's it, the pin and the Wolfsbane."

Dumbledore began to hum softly to himself as he turned over the events of the last week in his mind. "Yes, yes," he thought, "Severus demanded the pin for the Wolfsbane, then the act for keeping mum about the pin... Powerful magic in it - but not a Ward - or, at least, not only a Ward...

"Question is," he thought on, "why is Severus so intent on hiding her? Probably his niece - I know he has nephews, not too much of a stretch. Perhaps ... yes, he's paranoid when it comes to the safety of his relations. He wants her safe from any connection to him, so he's hiding her in plain sight. Very clever, very clever..."

A knock on the door brought the old man out of his reverie. "Yes?"

"Sir," said Kingsley crisply, striding into the room, "I need your help."

Albus jumped to his feet. "What is it?"

"Vance is in a tiff, Molly's in hysterics, Bill's trying to keep Tonks and Hestia from stampeding to apologize to Remus, and Severus just stomped by looking like a storm cloud with an extra dose of lightning."

"Yes, yes," said Albus, "I'll help Bill, you tackle Emmeline."

"I'll do it," grumbled Kingsley, "I'll do it, but I won't like it."

"Good for you," said the Headmaster cheerily, on his way out the door, "develops your character."

"Oh, and Headmaster," said Kingsley, as they parted ways in the hallway, "nice socks."

***Malfoy Matters***

Lucius Malfoy was miffed, to no small extent. He was used to being in charge, manipulating other people and imposing his will. Severus hadn't risen to the bait as planned thereby posing a bit of a problem.

The trouble with scheming to become the absolute dictator of the world is that very few people are willing to help you. Those who do either plan to stab you in the back or prove to be quite insane.

Lucius' plan from the beginning was to have a few trusted allies to do the dirty work for him. This he had accomplished by first ensuring that they could not possibly betray him, then sealing their motivation and loyalty with promises of great power.

Of course, he also planned to dispose of both of them as soon as they were no longer needed, which was rapidly becoming more complicated than Lucius would have liked. Antonin was willing to go along with the plan to ensure his own safety, but Severus was not so easily manipulated and the more Lucius thought about it the more he was convinced that confiding in Severus had been a very bad idea.

In retrospect, it was clear that the proper thing would have been to convince Voldemort that Rabastan and Antonin were in need of help. Having him draft Severus into the job, at the same time convincing the man that using his own blood would have ill effects, which would have caused Snape to sabotage the entire project on his own, without need of recompense.

Lucius had not, unfortunately, thought of this in time and had tried to draw Severus into his web of deceit. Though he hated to admit it, he had failed miserably, losing any trust in him Severus may have had. The more he thought about it, the more Lucius was convinced that Severus had only gone along with the original plan to lull him into a false sense of security in order to find away to betray him to their Lord.

"I'm going to have to kill him sooner than planned," he said to himself.

"What, my Dumpling?" asked Narcissa.

Lucius cursed his own preoccupied mind for its stupidity - one did not blurt out murder plans while having tea with one's wife. Especially if one's wife was known for her strong will and devious mind.

"Nothing, my Sweeting," he answered, "just thinking."

"Of killing?" she answered with a false brightness. "Good gracious, not over tea. Is it anybody I know? Will it be a duel, or are you going to poison him?"

"Poison's no good, he'd detect it, damn him," snapped Lucius.

"And I suppose," said Narcissa, with a very poisonous smile, "that you're not mentioning the dueling option because he is better than you. Or is it a woman?"

"I can't duel him; he's too close to our Lord and I wouldn't want to -"

"Be punished for depriving our Lord of one of his prized followers?" interrupted Narcissa.

" - to have to explain his death or find a replacement for him," finished Lucius sourly.

"Of course," his wife humored him. "We wouldn't want that, now, would we? You've missed dinner often enough the past week as it is. It would hardly do for you to be saddled with your rival's duties once you've assassinated him."

Lucius gave an annoyed huff and reached for a lemon biscuit. "It's not like that, and you know it, my Dearest. He's... plotting the demise of our Lord, but he's got me in such a position that I can't reveal his treachery without-"

"Exposing your own?" Narcissa interjected in a rather bored tone.

"-him exposing a letter from me which was rather unfortunately worded,. One which implicates me in things I haven't had any part of," Lucius finished with a lie.

"You mean things by which you haven't profited," corrected Narcissa, replenishing his cup.

Lucius gave the slightest shrug, indicating that he either agreed with her, or didn't think her statement worth the bother of refuting.

"So I can't attack him myself," he said sourly, "and I couldn't possibly hire someone to do it without it becoming known, mouths will blab as you know, and as I said, he's too much of a Potions expert to ..."

Narcissa's cold eyes gave a twinkle as she sipped her lukewarm tea. "Unless, of course, you set a Master to poison a Master."

Lucius smiled lightly, inwardly now quite suspicious. Usually his wife would be demanding more information, names, dates, and places. Normally she would try to reorder all his plans or thwart them entirely. Now, it was almost as if she had her own agenda. Lucius knew very well that she had no reason to protect him whatsoever, particularly as she only had a year before Draco would be of age to inherit.

Still, he supposed that dangerous help was better than none at all, so he said carefully, "A Master to poison a Master, my Dear? Whom would you suggest? The true Masters are all so appallingly principled and reticent about giving away anything deadly. The ones that will actually sell you a poison are generally not capable of brewing one subtle enough."

"I know one who isn't particularly... adverse to such things. As a proof of his talent, I've seen Severus buy from him with my own eyes," she said quietly, quite pleased that he hadn't resisted her advice. "He's got a shop down Knockturn, not far from Borgin's."

"His name?" asked Lucius.

"Hasn't got one," she replied. "He is called either 'Sir' or 'Master of the Greatest of Arts,' or, at the very least, 'the owner.' His place is underneath Blood and Bones."

"I always wondered what was down there," mused Lucius idly. "I'll look into it. I hope to goodness the man isn't paranoid to have taken antidotes to everything in existence."

Narcissa raised a perfect eyebrow. "There are some poisons with no antidote," she said quietly, "and a fair few that are kept in greater secrecy and security than the Dark Lord's soul."

"It would have to be tasteless," continued Lucius. "I'd hate to face him if it went wrong."

"With your wit and enterprise, I'm sure you'd find a way," she said rising gracefully to her feet. "If you don't mind, I'll take my leave. I have several letters to write."

She crossed to his side of the small table and gave him a peck on the forehead on her way out. As soon as she was gone Lucius grimaced in distaste. "What in the name of Grendel is she up to?" he muttered. "'Master of the Greatest of Arts' indeed."

Narcissa smiled to herself as she stepped lightly into her study. "All I've to do now," she mused, "is let Severus know that Lucius is planning to poison him - it's obviously Severus, or he wouldn't be so worried about him discovering poison. Severus always was the best dueler in England... and Lucius will fall."

With a contented smile, she got out her stationery, and her favorite quill. "Punishment for his betrayal of our Lord, killed by the one he's trying to manipulate. Quite just."

With an elaborate flourish, she signed her name to the simple warning note and blotted it dry carefully. "Of course, once Lucius is dead, Severus will let his guard down and the poisoning may commence. It's all quite perfect."

Grinning maliciously, she sealed the scroll and sent it off by her personal owl, activating the security charms as it flew out into the cold with a foof of its feathers.

***Early Morning Incidents***

Severus Snape got out of bed the morning after the Order meeting. His clock obligingly had a hand set on 'far too early'.

"Griffin spit," he muttered to himself, shuffling into his slippers, "the days I actually have time to sleep..."

With a heartfelt groan, he decided that as he was up already, he might as well make a round of the castle, even though it was probably Flitwick's shift - the man only ever did his own floor since he had trouble with stairs.

He dressed quickly, throwing on his robes and lacing his boots with practiced fingers. Pausing by his desk, he saw that an owl had come for him earlier and was flopping on his floor.

He knelt by it, gently undoing the leather straps holding the message, which was splattered with raindrops. Unrolling it, he read:

Severus

I should like to thank you again for last night. I'm afraid I was rather flustered and too nervous to think rationally. Now that I go over the events again, I can see how well your plan worked, that no matter what you eventually require of me in recompense, I am sure it shan't be enough.

I'm sorry for the abrupt conversation we had before you left - I'm afraid I was quite tired of carefully picking my words after such a lengthy conversation with Albus. I did tell you he no longer suspects you, did I not?

Apparently, he can suspect either of us of just about anything but both of us agreeing on something is too strong a proof to ignore. Sometimes I wish I still had as much faith in that man as I did when I was a student. It is so dreadfully easy to see only the flaws in those who lead us.

I was intending not to tell you this, but after sleeping on it - though not sleeping long, another effect of the moon - Albus admitted to purposely goading you, to let you 'release your anger' or some such. He thinks you keep too much bottled up inside.

He did not expressly tell me not to inform you, but I understood as much. However, I cannot stand the sight of blatant manipulation. Especially considering the results it had last year, namely the alienation of young Potter that lead to his distrust of all around him. Not that I believe you would react as he did. Albus has apparently been doing this to you for many years, but I simply could not justify keeping this to myself, knowing how valuable a thing trust is for you.

I'm not sure how long we'll be forced to continue the charade. I confess I hold on to the hope that it shan't be long before conditions improve and people are less prone to distrust. You may be amused to note that Bill Weasley took me aside shortly after you left to warn me that you had a prurient interest in my daughter. No matter, the more insane stories flying about, the more likely it is that they believe the outrageous lie we've conceived.

To conclude with what I started out to write, I'm issuing a standard invitation for you to barge into my house and yell at me for not being subtle enough tonight, as well as handle the Warding problem we were discussing during the meeting. There's also a small matter of the Wolf, which, though negligible in comparison with other things, could become an urgent problem if allowed to progress.
Yours,

Remus Lupin.

Severus' eyes scanned the message rapidly. With a grimace, he rummaged about for a quill and parchment and dashed off a reply:

Lupin,

If you expect I care whether I'm invited or not before barging into your home to yell, as you put it, you haven't been paying attention during the last few weeks.

No thanks are necessary. We do have an agreement. What I do, I do not do for you.

Bill Weasley is an idiot, no need to mention that.

As for Albus, I thank you for your pains, but it was quite unnecessary to agonize over such a trivial matter.

You did mention earlier that the Wolf was making itself known to you in your Human form - I have taken the Caldaic Oath after all, and must needs be sure what I pour down your throat actually works and even without that I have some sense of morality, which makes it hard to leave a man in danger of becoming a slavering beast more often than usual.

Regards,
Snape.

He rolled the letter together and tied it to the leg of the owl with some nearby twine. "Off with you," he muttered, shoving it in the direction of his ward. "You know whom it's for."

Checking to make sure his wand was safely in his breast pocket, he left his rooms and began his patrol. The corridors were quiet, as they ought to have been at this time of early morning, the only sound being the swish of Severus' cloak as he strode along.

Suddenly, Severus became aware that he was not alone. It began with prickling sensation on the back of his consciousness, letting him to know to be on his guard. He continued to walk as though nothing had changed feeling the presence move closer.

The sound of footsteps proved to him that it wasn't just his imagination. He whirled round, ready to berate whatever student was out of bed - only to find that there was nobody behind him.

"Potter," he snarled. "Cloak off, now."

An empty space in the corridor gave a ripple and Potter was visible, slightly apprehensive, tucking his Invisibility Cloak under one arm.

"What time is it, Potter?"

Harry took a deep breath. "About three or four in the morning, Professor."

"And at what time is it permissible to leave one's dormitory?"

"Six, sir," he admitted. "I'm sorry I ... sneaked up behind you. I didn't mean to."

Severus gave a malevolent smile. "Hm... you do know the standard punishment is twenty points? How many points does Gryffindor have, now?"

"Not many, Sir."

Severus raised an eyebrow, smirking at the boy. Harry was obviously trying very hard not to annoy him, and was therefore far more terrified of him than he had ever been. "What have you got to say for yourself?"

Harry looked away. "I couldn't sleep, sir."

Severus' eyes narrowed. "Vision?"

Harry shook his head. "Nightmare."

"I offered Dreamless Sleep," Severus murmured.

"I thought you'd forgotten," returned his student, "and I didn't want to ... annoy you more than I have. Merlin knows you've better things to do than worry about my nightmares."

"On the contrary, Mr. Potter," Severus hissed. "If you have nightmares, and do not sleep, what does that do to your health? Your power?"

Harry gave him a helpless pleading look. "I know they depend on me, Sir," he said. "I know that... but I ... I..."

"Come," said Severus abruptly. "Laboratory, Potter."

"But -" protested his student. "Why -?"

Severus resumed his brisk pace without bothering to turn around. "Would you rather lose points and have Professor McGonagall know?"

"Right," said Harry, giving in and following closely.

They walked in silence except for the click of Potter's heels on the flagstone. Finally, they reached Severus' lab.

Snape pressed his left palm to the cold dark wood of the door and waited until the wards recognized him, which caused a dark glow to pool about his hand. With his other hand, he turned the handle, easing the door open.

"New security?" Potter asked.

"The proper word is Wards," corrected Severus, ushering him in before snapping the door shut behind them. "Sit."

Harry Potter sat without argument in the closest chair from the door.

"How much do you weigh, Potter?" demanded Snape.

Harry blinked up at him.

"Your weight, boy," he repeated.

"I don't know, sir," the boy answered slowly, "I'd guess about... "

"No guessing," snapped Snape. "A few pounds off and I could overdose you enough to knock you out until Christmas."

The boy hung his head. Snape give a heartfelt sigh drawing his wand. Immediately, Harry braced himself. "Statistico!" They watched as the purple Spell enveloped Potter and began to pulse.

"What - what is this, sir?" asked Harry, trying but failing to move a hand outside of the purple haze.

"I'm surprised you haven't been subjected to it before; it's Madam Pomfrey's favorite Reading Spell. It will tell me, among other things, your age, height, weight, last meal, last sleep..."

Harry gulped, no doubt wondering just how much Snape would find out about him. After a moment, the pulsing stopped and the purple haze lifted and collected into a fine strand, which slowly turned to stab into Snape's temple. Snape clapped a hand to it and stood perfectly still for a moment.

"You should take better care of yourself, Mr. Potter," he commented dryly, dropping his hand. All visual effects of the Spell had disappeared.

Harry said nothing, wondering if it was possible to want to be someplace else enough to spark enough accidental Magic to cause inadvertent Apparition and override Hogwarts' security - Wards.

"I'm such a Muggle, sometimes," Harry muttered to himself. "Security, honestly..."

Snape returned in a moment carrying several small vials and a set of brass scales. He set them carefully on the lab table. "Allergic to Petroselinum," he muttered to himself, "that'll be negated by the Arrowroot... Have you clipped your nails recently, Potter?"

Harry looked up in surprise, sure he had misheard. "Beg pardon?"

"Your nails, Potter," repeated Severus impatiently, "have they been trimmed?"

Harry spread his fingers for inspection. "Not in a while, actually."

"Marvelous," muttered Snape dryly, drawing his wand again, "Accio Unguiculi!"

Harry gasped as he watched the excess from the tips of his fingernails fly into Snape's hand. "Wha...?"

"There's a bit of your Essence needed for the potion," Snape answered his half articulated question distractedly, "and they're easier to weigh than hair."

Snape rubbed a finger over his forehead in thought as he dropped the fingernails into a mortar on the desk and cast a quick sanitation charm on them. "He weighs a hundredweight plus a quarter - needs to be one sixteenth of parallel weight. That's thirty grains per ounce, makes a dram add a scruple and a half."

Harry blinked, and watched the mortar and pestle automatically grind the fingernails, as Professor Snape set the weights on one of the scales and spooned powdered fingernail carefully into the other until they balanced.

Snape, removing the nails from the scale and tipping them into a pint size gold cauldron on his desk, asked, "You have been practicing, I hope, Potter?"

"Yes, sir," answered Harry quickly. "I haven't had a vision since our last lesson."

"Adequate," muttered Snape sourly, sending a small blue flame beneath the cauldron with a wave of his left hand. "And the Curse?"

Harry smiled. "I did as you said sir; Dumbledore agreed to remove my magical signature from the prohibitions in the castles' defenses so that I could practice, not that he knows it'll be Avada."

"Don't let your guard down, Potter," cautioned Snape, "I'm sure your signature is still monitored, even if your curses shan't trigger the Alarms."

Harry nodded. "Yes, sir. I've practiced at odd hours, when I thought it less likely for someone to be watching the meter."

Severus carefully poured the sleeping draught into the cauldron and it gave an annoyed hiss, letting out a stream of steam.

Harry watched, fascinated, as Professor Snape carefully added six drops from the second bottle. "Arrowroot syrup," snapped Severus in answer to his unasked question. "Just enough to counteract an allergic reaction."

The potion let out another cantankerous hiss as Severus began to stir it in a figure eight pattern with a thin metal rod.

"And the last thing you used the Curse for?"

Harry gave a wry smile. "It writes very good essays."

Severus looked up sharply. "Mr. Potter, if you think for one moment I shall let you get away with using these lessons to cheat -"

Snape broke off as he realized that Harry was unperturbed, worse yet, grinning at him.

"Just kidding."

Snape let out an exasperated sigh as he turned up the flame beneath the cauldron. "The Curse is no laughing matter, Mr. Potter. I am in no mood for levity. Kindly answer the question."

"I used it to repair the window in our dormitory actually," Potter supplied. "About two am."

A predatory grin spread over Snape's face. "I suppose the window just happened to be broken?"

Harry looked abashed. "Well, it just happened, that is to say, I just happened to have hurled my book through it."

"I see," said Snape, "and this book is presumably lying out in the cold as we speak, getting soaked in the rain?"

"It's raining?" asked Harry stupidly, looking about for a window.

"Yes, Potter, it's raining," sighed Snape. "But your book. If I might ask..."

"Defense Against Dark Arts textbook," muttered Harry. "Went on about the dangers of dueling with a Parselmouth and..."

"And I assume you noticed the information isn't quite flattering," finished Professor Snape.

"You don't understand," grumbled his student, running his hands through his hair. "It said all sorts of things. That if a Wizard could talk to snakes, he'd be vicious, ruthless, out for blood and ... and that he had no soul. Wasn't - wasn't human."

Snape sighed. "Potter, you must understand by now that... Parseltongue simply isn't an ordinary ability. It is not a Dark ability, but it is also not a human ability."

"So it is true, then," sighed Potter. "I'm everything they said I was in second year."

"Lack of a small part of one's humanity does not necessarily make one a monster, Potter," admonished Snape. "No one knows the cause, but you simply have an ... affinity... for the animals. The ability to not only communicate with them, but to also think as they do."

"Exactly. So I'll never be human. I'll always be..."

"Well, Lupin shall always be a Werewolf, shan't he?" asked Snape. "And though he's lost far more of his humanity to his Curse than you have to your Gift, you still think of him as a normal man, do you not?"

"I didn't think of it that way," admitted Harry.

"It is a gift," said Snape firmly. "You would do well to use it as best you can. I doubt the Headmaster's told you this, but, considering this gift of yours, you ought to be quite capable of Wandless Magic."

Harry looked up, confusedly. "Isn't everybody? I mean, I've done it before - blew up my Aunt for Merlin's sake. Nobody ever said anything."

"That would be because anyone would naturally assume you had done that with your Wand. It is not a human gift, nor a common one," explained Snape gently, extinguishing the flame beneath the Potion with a flick of the wrist.

"But you've just done it!" protested Harry, before realizing that had been a profoundly stupid thing to say.

The glare Snape sent his way silenced him. Harry gulped. Abruptly Snape whirled around and busied himself carefully ladling the finished potion into a vial.

"I'm - I'm sorry, sir," said Harry, wincing as his Professor slammed the now corked bottle in front of him.

"Take no more than a dram before you sleep," instructed Professor Snape, his voice flat. "It lasts ten hours so do not take it now. I suggest you hurry before you're caught out of bed after hours."

"Yes sir," said Harry miserably, knowing that any further attempt to apologize would only make matters worse. "Good night, sir."

Taking the vial, Potter fled the lab in a flurry of black.

Snape was intensely angry with himself. He should have had better control than to revert to the habit of Casting without a Wand during brewing. "Let's hope to Circe the boy knows enough to keep his mouth shut," he muttered.

Of a sudden he was extraordinarily tired. He left the laboratory and walked tiredly back to his rooms. Perhaps he could sleep a bit in the three hours left before breakfast.