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Chapter Text

Cries of joy were mixed with cries of despair. Families huddled together to mourn the loss of their loved ones. They expected Harry to console them and the boy had no idea what to tell them. Those who weren't overcome with mourning, rushed to Harry's side to congratulate him, to touch the Chosen One, The-Boy-Who-Lived, the one who defeated Voldemort.

Harry was tired, he longed for the sole company of his closest friends instead of the crowd. He just wanted to lie down in his bed in Gryffindor's tower and sleep for a week.

''Potter! Potter!'' Minerva McGonagall called after him, pacing quickly in his direction. She must have finished putting tables in the Great Hall back to their places. Her voice was unnusually high-pitched for her.

Harry sighed, seeing he won't be able to rest as soon as he'd wished to. He expected his professor to have questions, even though he'd explained the majority of Dumbledore's plan before the final duel with Voldemort. He raised his eyes to look at the woman approaching him. Her hair was a mess and her glasses were slightly askew, but that was nothing out of ordinary – no one cared for their appearance in those circumstances. What drew Harry's attention was McGonagall's pale face and slightly trembling hands.

''Potter, ah, there you are!'' transfiguration teacher was taking a breath, running after her pupil had visibly exhausted her. ''Potter, Harry, tell me – is it true?''

Harry blinked, feeling as if he were Obliviated or Confunded and McGonagall was referring to some information that was erased from his memory. ''Wh-what is true, Professor?'' he blurted out. ''If you are asking about what I told Voldemort, then yes. I think the wand affirmed it recognises me as its owner when it refused to obey Voldemort,'' he rushed to offer his interlocutor an answer in hopes of being left alone for a while.

''Yes, but Severus...'' McGonagall hesitated. ''He was on our side all this time?'' Minerva was clearly struggling to believe that.

Harry nodded. ''It was all Dumbledore's orders. Without Professor Snape's help...'' he lost a track for a moment, maybe thanks to his fatigue, and thought of the locket and the silver doe. Then he noticed McGonagall furrowing her eyebrows and shook his head to wake himself up a bit. ''I don't think we would be able to win without his help.''

''I hope you don't mind asking me, Potter, but how do you know?'' now she looked more eager to find the evidence supporting the story than doubtful of its verity. ''Mere hours ago we fought Severus and chased him away.''

Harry had an idea of what she meant. ''He played his part well. He fooled everyone, Professor, both the Order and Death Eaters. I...,'' he turned his face not wanting to look into McGonagall's face when he reveals the origin of his knowledge. He swallowed and tried again. ''I was there when Voldemort killed him. He ordered Nagini to do it and Snape couldn't run away.''

''Professor Snape!'' McGonagall reminded strictly.

Harry nodded. He had made up his mind to honour Snape by finally calling him 'Professor' upon learning the truth, but as Harry was unused to doing so, it slipped his mind. ''Voldemort left and Professor Snape was lying on the floor with his neck torn. I don't know why, but I approached him and he-he gave me his memories. And then he died. And I finally saw the truth and knew what I had to do,'' Harry didn't know why he was spilling all those details. He just wanted to get out of his head the image of the man he had hated with such a burning passion bleeding on the floor in the Shrieking Shack. Another victim who sacrificed his life for Harry and the cause. He didn't want to hear his plea to look at him. Inspite of him turning his gaze away his eyes caught the sight of Minerva covering her mouth in shock and the tears welling in her eyes.

''Poor Severus!'' the woman had a lump in her throat.

Poor Severus, indeed, Harry thought and recalled Dumbledore pitying his spy. It was unfair the man risked his life on daily basis and finally lost it receiving no recognition but only contempt from the people he'd done it for, even if it had happened on his own request. Then again, it wasn't fair that many people, who didn't deserve to die, died that day.

McGonagall procured a handherchief and blew into it. ''Dear Merlin! All those years of putting his line on the line and I called him a coward!'' she lamented. ''Albus always trusted him. I shouldn't have doubted Albus' instinct. Oh, why I haven't trusted Severus as well!''

''Professor Snape knew the risk and the stake. He didn't want anyone to know the role he played'' Harry offered in hopes of lessening the guilt he saw building in his teacher, but his own treacherous mind replayed Snape yelling 'Don't call me a coward!'. No, Snape should never have been called that word.

McGonagall blew her nose again. ''Where is he now? We should lay him next to the fallen protectors of the Castle. That is where he deserves to be,'' she stated and Harry admitted ashamed in his mind that amidst the tumult he had forgotten of his ex-Potions and DADA teacher's body.

''The Shrieking Shack.''

McGonagall nodded in acknowledgement. ''Get some rest, Potter. Merlin knows you need it. I will take care of it.''

---

Minerva rushed towards the Shrieking Shack not telling anyone where she was heading. She was sure the school would manage just fine without her for the next half an hour or so. Her heart was beating anxiously, afraid of the view that awaited her there. She saw enough deaths on that day, enough bodies of her deceased colleagues and her students.

This matter, however, could not wait. Severus' body could not be left in the Shack to rot away. He deserved to be buried with honours amongst the fallen of the Light side, he deserved a speech on his deeds. McGonagall made a firm resolution honour Severus' memory. He had been a Slytherin, yet he had been braver than the majority of her Gryffindors.

She opened the door of the Shrieking Shack with a heavy heart. Her eyes quickly found the man covered in blood lying on the floor. His hands were slumped on the floor and his eyes were closed.

''Oh, Severus!'' Minerva knelt by his side uncaring if she stained her robe with his blood. With a trembling hand she brushed away a lock of his greasy hair from his morbidly pale face. ''I am so sorry,'' she sobbed. ''If only Albus had told me! I am so sorry,'' she repeated and tears were running down her face. ''You were the bravest of us all and you've never spoken a word of it. You sacrificed your life for our victory and you can't even rejoice with us over the war's end,'' she tucked a strand of his hair behind his ear and sniffed. ''I wish things had gone differently,'' she sniffed, but then something caught her attention – a droplet of blood running down Snape's mutilated neck.

Minerva stared strangely at the droplet. It wasn't dried, although it should have been. Hadn't Voldemort said he had killed Severus three hours ago? Hadn't Harry confirmed Severus' death? But dead do not bleed.

She carefully raised Snape's left hand. It was colder than usual human body temperature, but it wasn't stiff. On the contrary, it was limp. It was possible Severus' body hasn't entered into rigor mortis yet, but that couldn't explain fresh blood on his neck.

The conclusion has probably scared her even more than the anticipation of the sight of his dead body. She didn't want to give herself a false hope. Reluctantly she placed her hand over his chest. ''Severus!'' Minerva exclaimed in shock mixed with relief feeling his weak heartbeat and his laboured breath. Her relief quickly turned into worry. He's been lying here all this time! By all means he should have been dead by now. How much time did he have left? She needed to stop bleeding! She needed to get him to Madam Pomfrey urgently!

---

Severus Snape opened up his eyes. His own action took him by surprise, so he blinked few more times. Indeed, he was able to blink. He did not expect he would be able to do that ever again. Apparently, death did not mean an end of corporeal form. He was well aware what had happened: Dark Lord calling him to a meeting, the snake, the loss of all hope at the realisation he had failed his mission and then against all odds the boy appearing next to him. And the emptiness that was claiming him.

He didn't feel sorry for himself for dying. He had long known it would most likely end that way. Of course he wasn't actively seeking death like those hot-headed Gryffindors. He had anticipated Nagini's attack for quite some time. For the last few months before the meetings with the Dark Lord he would take the antidote Arthur Weasley had been given following the attack. One of the last important pieces of information he had been able to get from the Order. This only served to prove the extend of his own naivety. What good the antidote had been when he had bled out to death? He hadn't even had the time to close the wounds. Thanks Merlin he had at least managed to give the boy his memories. And by doing so he had failed Lily once again, sentencing her son to untimely demise.

''Severus!'' familiar voice called him and he turned his face to see Poppy's face. He furrowed his eyebrows confused. Was she dead too or this was his imagination?

''Poppy?'' he croaked out and felt a pain in his neck where Nagini's fangs had struck. He tried to sit up, but his body failed him. He groaned tiredly and closed his eyes again. It didn't make sense. Obviously death was a foreign land, but shouldn't it mean the end of physical pain? Maybe it was hell – that's where he deserved to be, after all. And what the hell Poppy Pomfrey was doing here? He opened up his eyes again and this time he noticed the ceiling above his head. It looked like the one in the Hospital Wing. No, something wasn't right.

''Severus, can you hear me?'' Poppy asked.

Severus run his hand down his face irritated by his own confusion. ''Yes, Poppy. I can,'' he answered considering asking her what in Merlin's sake was going on?

Poppy smiled. ''Oh, splendid! We were all so worried about you. You were comatose for a week! I was starting to worry we wouldn't be able to wake you up.''

Snape narrowed his eyes looking at the healer. ''Comatose?'' He refrained himself from asking if it meant he was not actually dead, not wanting to appear more ridiculous than he already felt. Besides, there were more important information to discuss than his vital status. ''Dark Lord?''

Madam Pomfrey looked at him disapprovingly. ''I don't know why you still insist on calling him by that name,'' she scoffed. ''It makes you sound as if you were one of them.'' Severus did not have the strength to argue that he was a bearer of the Dark Mark, making him 'one of them', although it took him by surprise she sounded as if she didn't believe that to be true. Everyone knew Severus Snape was Dark Lord's servant! He made sure of that. ''Lord Voldemort is no more,'' she stated straightening her back and raising her head proudly.

''So we won?'' the spy asked quietly, his confusion and tiredness alongside Poppy's strange demeanour making him forget for a moment to hide his true loyalties.

''Yes, Voldemort and his Death Eaters were defeated,'' Poppy sounded offended he made her repeat herself.

Severus furrowed his eyebrows again, wondering why she immediately assumed he had meant the Light side by 'we'. So Potter was dead, he felt his body slump. He closed his eyes and exhaled slowly. I'm sorry Lily. I know it changes nothing, but I regret things have come to this, he thought. Her sacrifice was for naught. What worth was the victory in the end, when there nothing remained of her, not even the extruciatingly infuriating boy?

''Ah, that's enough for now – I can see you are tired,'' she tutted. ''I have to inform our Headmistress you are awake. Minerva will be glad to hear it. It was her who found you in the Shrieking Shack.'' With a quick flick of her want she produced a glass of water. She put it on the bed table and helped Severus sit up. ''There,'' she carefully handed him the glass of water. ''You must be parched.''

Only taking a sip Severus felt how much his lips were dried. ''Thank you, Poppy,'' he spoke in a coarse voice and coughed.

Madam Pomfrey helped him lie down and excused herself, pointing out other patients required her attention as well.

Severus stared at the ceiling, trying to wrap his head around the concept of him surviving Nagini's attack. And why the hell Poppy was so friendly? Shouldn't she want him dead for killing Dumbledore and betraying the Order and the school? There was no way she could be aware of his true allegiance. Apparently Minerva survived the war as well. Good, she would take a good care of this school. Maybe she would come to talk to him and finally explain him what the hell was going on.

Chapter Text

Being the Headmistress of Hogwarts was a consuming job. Following the battle of Hogwarts it was nearly a 24 hours/7 days job with all that noting down the damages done to the castle, planning repairs, managing rooms for the wounded, discussing burials with families of the fallen and then attenting them and giving speeches.

And there was the question of Minerva's legality as the Headmistress of Hogwarts. Severus was lying unconscious in the Hospital Wing. Yes, he had fled the school following the fight, but did it count if he had done for the sake of his mission? Truth be told, she could not say Severus had done a good job as the Headmaster, but she had to admit he'd had a thankless task dancing on the line between two sides of the conflict. Still, it was a lesser concern as she had piles of more pressing matters to attend.

She wished Albus was there, the real Albus, not the painting. He would have known how to deal with all those matters more efficiently, even if quite a lot of them were of Albus' own making as it appeared. Former headmasters' paintings provided wonderful assistance, but they could never replace the real person.

McGonagall was called by the acting Minister for Magic to discuss the state of school and likeliness of opening it for the next school year. She took a Floo from the Headmaster's office to Minister's office.

Kingsley's office was lavish compared to the current state of Hogwarts, on which the war had taken the most grievous toll. Portraits of former ministers watched Minerva with a great interest as she stepped out of the fireplace and brushed off the dust of her emerald-green robes.

''Headmistress, what news do you have for me?'' Kingsley greeted her with a slight smile.

Minerva intertwined her fingers and spoke in a businesslike manner. ''Now, now, Minister, let's not get ahead of ourselves, I'm just an acting Headmistress.'' Minerva, being cautious in her guesses for the future (after all she wasn't some irrational seer, like Sybill for instance), preferred to think of herself as an acting Headmistress, even if others set their minds on calling her 'Headmistress'.

''And I, Minerva, am an acting Minister,'' Shacklebolt reminded kindly. ''Now that we have exchanged our pleasantries, how is the Castle?''

''As you are already aware, several walls collapsed due to explosions and attacks of giants. Moreover, some rooms were subject to fire and some other to floods. The greatest concern are the walls, however, and the wards around the Castle. I don't think I have to remind you the Hogwarts Castle hasn't built within a span of short few days. Rebuilding collapsed sections will take weeks in the most optimistic scenario, but it could even take years for Hogwarts to return to its former glory!''

Kingsley nodded, already expecting that answer. ''How do you feel about opening the school in September?''

''Well, it's hard to assess the situation after a mere week after the battle, wouldn't you agree, Minister?'' Minerva arched an eyebrow. ''But I am hopeful that we can accept students in September if some sections remain closed during school year until fully repaired. However, it would be unwise to rule out the possibility of the school year starting later than usually this time. As for N.E.W.T.s and O.W.L.s, taking into account the state of the Castle and tragedies of many families, there is no point in carring them out before the school re-opens.''

''I agree on that,'' Kingsley walked back and forth with his hands folded behind his back on an exquisite rug inlaid with golden embroidery of mythical creatures only the Lovegoods could believe to be exist. ''Additionally, as it pains me to say it, several teaching posts were emptied in the recent events and you might require some time to find suitable successors.''

Minerva sighed with a heavy heart. ''Yes, I am aware of this issue, however, as the loss of my colleagues is still a fresh wound, excuse me, but I would prefer not to discuss this matter further just yet. As we have agreed, we still have nearly four months to find new teachers,'' she slightly raised her chin, communicating she was not going to pick up the subject again during this conversation. ''Now, if we are quite finished debating the state of Hogwarts, I would like to ask a few questions of my own.''

''By all means, Minerva,'' Shacklebolt nodded politely.

''How is Ministry's haunt for the Death Eaters? There are rumours of loose bands in western Wales,'' McGonagall's tone was a tiny bit accusatory.

''I won't lie to you, Minerva – it is true we haven't arrested every single one of them. It is a process, you most likely remember how much time it had taken the last time. But we have some notable names – for instance the Malfoys are held in custody.''

''Malfoys are the least of my concern!'' Minerva scoffed. ''They didn't even play an active role in the battle of Hogwarts. Since the battle of Ministry they had fallen out of favour with Voldemort. They surrendered willingly,'' she reminded.

Kingsley scratched his temple. ''I understand your impatience, but as we can't rebuild the Castle in one day, we can't track down all the Death Eaters at once. But I do seem to recall you are keeping one in the school.''

Minerva furrowed her eyebrows, mildly outraged by the allusion. ''Potter is convinced of Severus' innocence and I believe him.''

''I hold Potter in the highest regard over his unmatched service to the Wizarding World, but the facts are Snape has a Mark on his forearm,'' Kingsley stated matter-of-factly. ''As an acting Minister I can't rely solely on a boy barely of-age, even if said boy is the saviour of the Wizarding World.''

Having transported back to Hogwarts, Minerva was met with the pitiful sight that was the Castle. Spending a week within the Castle's walls made it easy to forget how badly it was destroyed during the battle, but it could not make walking down corridors any less depressing. McGonagall pointedly avoided looking at the spots where the bodies had been found as if they still were there. Currently the place was unusually full of death lingering within its walls, which was saying a lot for the Castle inhabited by ghosts and murderous creatures like the Basilisk.

---

Now that Severus was slowly beginning to accept his survival as a fact, he was getting restless. Lying in a bed was plain boring and a waste of time in Severus' book, but if Poppy caught even a slightest hint of him trying to get up, she rushed to rebuke him. She once even threatened to tie him up to the bed if he kept trying to leave it. He started wondering if she wasn't by chance Nagini in Poppy's skin – if not for his mastery of Occlumency and control of his emotions, her gaze would have sent a shiver down his spine.

Unfortunately, aside from stopping Severus from doing anything more constructive than staying in the bed, she had done nothing to dispel his questions regarding the state of Wizarding World following Dark Lord's fall. Not that Severus had asked her directly – her demeanour discouraged him from doing so. Moreover, the patients that were awake were giving him strange looks as well. He opted to ignore them – were they cursing him for betraying Dumbledore, he'd know how to respond, but no one even yelled at him. Severus wasn't sure what to make of this. He felt as if he had awoken not a week but years after the battle.

The door to the Hospital Wing swung open and Minerva McGonagall walked in. Severus looked at her and their eyes met. She came to him, he was sure of that. He prayed she would yell at him, call him a traitor, do something that made sense as opposed to Poppy's warm reception and his co-patients curious, yet rather welcoming looks. He slowly sat up with a silent hiss, preparing for a conversation that had been long due.

McGonagall took a chair and put it beside Severus' bed. She had eyebags under her eyes and ex-Potions teacher wondered if she had got any sleep at all during this week. Two teachers stared at each other maybe for a minute, neither sure what to say.

McGonagall broke the silence by clearing her throat. ''How are you feeling, Severus?''

Minerva was surprisingly civil, Snape mused. ''Acceptable,'' he replied shortly, ignoring the pain in his neck. ''And how are you doing, Minerva?''

''Likewise. I have just returned from the Minister's office. Kingsley Shacklebolt has been assigned an acting Minister for Magic,'' Minerva folded her hands on her thighs.

Severus arched an eyebrow. ''I take it that Thicknesse is dead, then?''

''Yes, he died in the explosion that destroyed one of the Castle's walls. Even if he had survived, I'm sure he would not continue his work as the Minister.''

Snape grimaced at the mention of the explosion. How it managed to topple a wall of Hogwarts? ''I imagine. He was Imperiused.''

McGonagall looked him right in his eyes, a shadow of hesitation passing through her own. ''Severus, I wanted to apologise,'' she maintained eye contact as she spoke, being a brave Gryffindor that she was.

Snape scoffed and turned his face away, wondering if by chance Transfiguration teacher hadn't been Imperiused as well. ''There's nothing to apologise for, Minerva,'' he looked at her again.

''No,'' McGonagall stated firmly in a voice that informed she would not accept any objections. ''That is not true. I want you to know I regret calling you a coward and I don't think you are one. That was unfair of me.''

Severus looked warily at his colleague. ''And what makes you say that?'' he challenged. ''Poppy has informed me of Light's side victory. I am a Death Eater. Surely I don't deserve such a kind treatment.''

Minerva looked at him as if he had offended her intellect. ''Sweet Merlin! Why are you so stubborn? It is over, Severus! You don't have to hide anymore. Potter told us everything. Of your role in Albus' plan.''

Snape's nostrils flared. Leave an imporant piece of information to that idiotic Gryffindor and he'll happily blabber it all away on his merry road to death. ''What a reliable source of information.''

''Yes, Potter is fully convinced you were on our side all this time and planned with Albus' his demise behind our backs. Now, if you stopped playing that game? You don't have to be a spy anymore,'' she pressed.

Snape furrowed his eyebrows. Potter 'is'? Isn't he dead? Wasn't Albus vocal enough that the boy had to die? he thought. ''This doesn't change anything, Minerva,'' he said instead. ''I killed Albus, it doesn't matter if it was on Albus' request, Dark Lord's request or both. I am a murderer and a Death Eater.''

''You foolish Slytherin!'' Minerva grabbed his wrist. ''It changes everything. Albus was already dying and chose to spare young Malfoy from becoming a murderer. I don't approve the choice he made, but it was a tough decision with no right options. It's true you may have been a Death Eater once, but I know you have changed and that took the real courage,'' she released his wirst. ''Hadn't I known better, I'd think you were one of my Gryffindors,'' a barely noticeable spark of mirth appeared behind her glasses.

''I have to kindly disagree. Running right into danger is not exactly my trait,'' his voice was laced with sarcasm.

McGonagall scoffed. ''As if you weren't doing exactly that for the last few years.''

''Running right into danger without a thought out plan is not exactly my trait,'' Severus amended. ''We Slytherins value wit and I'm sorry to say that, but your Gryffindors seem to lack the forethought.''

Minerva sighed deeply. ''I don't understand why Albus hasn't confined in me. I could have helped you both.''

''Albus wasn't the one to easily share his secrets. He kept me in the dark on numerous aspects of his grand plan. I have also heard Potter whining about Dumbledore not wanting to explain the details of the Order's functioning. Don't feel bad about Albus not telling you of him dying – I don't think there was a single person whom Albus fully trusted.''

McGonagall shook her head. ''Regardless, I was his deputy! I could have helped you communicate with the Order following Albus' death!''

''Your anger had to be genuine, Minerva,'' Severus spoke firmly.

McGonagall narrowed her eyes. ''To call you all those awful things? To chase you away? To hate you when you were in the fact helping us?'' her voice, initially flaming with anger at the injustice was wavering with each following sentence.

''Yes,'' Snape coldly stared his colleague right into eyes. ''I don't hold grudge over what had transpired. You had your role to play, I had mine. Ultimately, we were all but a mere pawns in the game of two great wizards,'' he reasoned.

''No,'' the lioness of Gryffindor said. ''You were not some kind of disposable pawn to be cast aside upon the end of the game.''

Snape grimaced at her words. What he was if not exactly that? ''And what of Potter?'' he changed subject. ''Dumbledore informed me he had to die by Dark Lord's hand, so that Dark Lord could have been defeated.''

''He what?!'' Minerva now resembled a mother bear. ''He sent the boy to die?'' Severus nodded in reply and McGonagall seemed to be at loss of words to describe her outrage. ''That- Oh, if I got my hands on him! My Gryffindor? For what? Greater good?! Ah, I thought Skeeter made up Albus' friendship with Grindelwald. Well, I was wrong! That coward! Sure! Go and die! Burden others with your duties! Send a boy to death, turn your colleague into murderer! It's none of your business once you're dead!'' Severus watched with a great amusement his fellow teacher spit colourful exclamations at their late Headmaster and wondered if 'coward' was an ultimate insult in Minerva's book.

Frankly, Minerva found herself wishing even more for the late Headmaster to be here. Not to provide company and assistance, though. She wanted to tell him off for keeping her in the dark and for that cruel plan of his. Arguing with the painting could not substitute a confrontation with the real person. Alas, Dumbledore was gone, but now McGonagall pitied his murderer more than the victim. ''Ah, but that explains a lot,'' she calmed down a bit. ''When Hagrid brought Harry, we all thought he was dead, Voldemort included.''

''But he wasn't?'' Severus arched an eyebrow and Minerva told him of the final duel between Harry and Voldemort. ''Potter is still alive?'' he asked carefully and Minerva confirmed. Truly, The-Boy-Who-Lived , Severus scoffed. At least it meant Severus hadn't failed Lily once again and he found some consolation in that thought.

''Just before the duel he told Voldemort of your true loyalties. He was sure you were dead, so was Voldemort,'' Minerva's eyes welled with tears. ''I was too, when I found you... I have no idea how you managed to survive, but please know that all teachers are grateful that you are still with us. We have lost enough decent people as it is, I would have hated to lose you as well.''

Severus felt out of place like the words weren't meant for him to hear. Tearful Minerva was a rare sight on its own, somebody showing him compassion even more so. ''I am glad as well to see you have managed to survive this chaos, Minerva,'' he assured matter-of-factly, not used to offering a consolation or thanking anyone.

Chapter Text

After five days since his awakening Poppy finally let Severus leave the Hospital Wing on the condition he returned for daily check-ups. He accepted the offer, being in no position to negotiate with the woman. It was certainly a less boring occupation than lying in a bed, after all.

Wearing his usual black robes Severus felt less out of place than wearing a hospital gown. Even though the pain still prevented him from keeping his standard pace, Snape managed to feign an indimidating posture. The way the few students who were still staying in the castle ducked their heads at his sight, made him internally smirk. The awe he saw in their eyes was bordering on the modern and the archaic meaning of the word. It didn't escape his notice the way they curiously eyed the bandages around his neck, when the young idiots thought they were away enough to avoid their teacher's keen eyes. If his survival made him strike even more terror in those brats, he was not going to complain.

And it wasn't only students that looked at ex-Death Eater with a mix of admiration and anxiety. Whenever Filch spotted Snape passing by, he looked like he was trying to disappear into thin air, preferably somewhere out of Snape's sight.

One of the first things he checked were his memories. Unfortunately, they went missing from the Pensieve. Trust anything important to that brat and he'll surely lose it. Oh, Potter had better returned them to their righful owner or he would regret it. Albus Dumbledore smiling at him and expressing his happiness at Severus' survival did not improve his mood by any measure. Snape wished to tear that painting not to see the face of the former headmaster anymore.

What peeved Severus the most was in the fact not Peeves, with whose antics the teacher was too familiar by now, so Peeves' accusations of Severus having sold his soul to the Dark Lord in exchange for his life only made Severus threateningly arch his eyebrow at the Poltergeist. No, what irritated Severus the most were his colleagues.

When Severus entered Potions Master's office, Horace welcomed him jovially. Too jovially in Severus' opinion.

''Oh, Severus, you are the prime example of what I've been preaching all my life!'' Slughorn rubbed his hands, unable to contain his happiness. ''Slytherins are not destined to take the path of evil. Cunning is not a sin, after all, am I right, my boy? Have a sit! Ah, maybe it's a faux pas to offer you a sit? I'm not sure anymore whose office it is!'' he laughed. ''Minerva told me you officially resigned from the Headmaster's position?''

Severus nodded and replied shortly, not wanting to take part in Horace' buffonery. ''That is correct.''

''So you will be taking Potions Master's position once more? Ah, that would be splendid! Merlin knows I deserve to return to my retirement!'' Snape was about to reply, but Slughorn raised his hand, stopping Severus. ''Wait a moment, I should still have that bottle of prime red wine, brought by one my students. She used to work in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement... I don't know what happened to her in the recent events...'' Slughorn trailed away. ''Anyway, we should have a drink to celebrate the victory over He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, earnt also by the efforts of the house of Slytherin. Yes,'' he nodded to himself. ''What Poppy doesn't see, won't hurt her,'' Horace said from the backroom.

''Thank you for your kind offer, Horace,'' Severus spoke drily. ''However, I didn't come here to fraternise. I'm afraid Poppy is running out of Blood-Replenishing potion.''

Horace returned from the backroom empty-handed. ''Why haven't you told me right away? Your dedication is most admirable, but there is no need for you to waste your energy on the task. I am a skilled Potioneer myself, Severus. You should rest, you are still healing, for Merlin's sake!'' he looked pointedly at bandages on Snape's neck.

''For people as familiar with the subtle art of brewing Potions as we are, blood-replenisher does not require much effort, wouldn't you agree?'' Snape reasoned calmly. ''I'm sure Poppy will be thankful to receive a double batch.''

Smile melted away from Slughorn's face. ''And I am sure, Severus, Poppy won't tolerate you doing Merlin-knows-what instead of recovering. Sweet Slytherin, you've always been as stubborn as a hippogriff!'' And with that Severus was asked to leave the office.

The treatment he received from Slughorn wasn't an exeption. Even though Flitwick was quick to give Severus his thanks for protecting students and declared his admiration for the younger professor's bravery and profiniency in magic, he wouldn't hear a word of Severus helping him with fixing the castle and the wards as if Severus were in no shape for such tasks. Weren't Severus such a cold cynic, maybe he would have found his colleagues' concerns touching.

Hagrid had wet Snape's robes with his tears of a size of a tennis ball, crying ''I knew Dumbledore wouldn' trusted yer if yer weren' on our side, locking Snape in a hug he couldn't free himself from, crossing all of Snape's boundaries. Resigned, Snape waited for Hagrid to release him, having long accepted that the half-giant wasn't too familiar with the subtlety of socialising.

The only ones of the school staff that were rather wary of the story of Snape's role in the war were Sybill Trelawney and Pomona Sprout. Severus was relieved that at least two professors questioned Potter's testimony. He would have lost his sanity if Sybill changed her views of him. After all her dislike towards him was well-earnt and Severus also wished he had not overheard that damned prophecy.

On the eight day Minerva summoned him to her office. ''Animagus,'' he said and the gargoyle stepped aside. He thought of all those years of speaking names of various kinds of candies to enter the office. Albus Dumbledore as surely as a mastermind, was also a madman and if anything proved that it had been the decades of candy-themed passwords.

He sneered at the sight of said man's portrait smiling at him brightly. The audacity.

It didn't escape McGonagalls attention as he spoke to the portrait. ''Albus, if you were so kind and left us alone for a moment?''

''Naturally, Minerva. If you need me, you only need to call'' painted Dumbledore smiled kindly and left the frames of the portrait out of professors' sight.

''Thank you, Minerva,'' Severus slightly bowed his head. ''I've got nothing to say to him, even if he's a portrait.''

McGonagall looked as if she was about to rebuke him, but changed her mind. She wasn't going to excuse Albus' poor decisions.

''Do me a favour, Minerva, by not hanging my portrait when I finally leave this pitiful rock floating in the space.'' The past headmasters looked at him judgingly.

''Severus, there's no need to be this blunt!'' said Minerva.

''As a former headmaster, it is your duty to support next headmasters with your knowledge. Your portrait will hang here when your time comes, Snape,'' Phineas Nigellus Black spoke harshly, accepting no objections. Other headmasters nodded in agreement.

''I believe we will have countless opportunities to discuss this matter, Severus. I don't expect you to leave this, as you were kind enough to call it, pitiful rock floating in the space any time soon,'' she eyed him strictly.

Snape feigned a mask of indifference. ''I've heard the life expectancy in Azkaban is not too long.''

McGonagall intertwined her fingers and placed her hands on her desk in a business-like manner. ''I am glad you tackled this subject as I wanted to discuss it with you. I have met with the Minister today. He let me take you under my custody until the day of trial on the condition that you will not leave the castle. You are a reasonable man, so I believe there should be no issues with that provision. Besides,'' she added with a spark of amusement glistening behind her glasses. ''I don't think Poppy would let you out. I've heard you were offering your help to Horace and Filius. You'd better hope she doesn't find out.'' Minerva leant against the back of her chair. ''Now, on the more serious tone, I have to back our Matron up – for goodness' sake, Severus! Your top priority should be recovery. Do not overexert yourself.''

''And how,'' Snape sceptically raised an eyebrow and crossed his arms. ''would I overexert myself by brewing simple potions and casting simple spells?''

''Don't be childish, Severus, you know what I mean. Moreover, I am certain you are going to be found not guilty. I expect you to outlife me, I am clear?'' the Headmister gave him the look she gave her students when she told them they could do better in their exams.

---

Why it had to be Snape? Why not Fred or Tonks or Lupin? Harry was disgusted by his own thoughts, but was he to blame he wished his friends survived instead of his beloathed teacher? Yes, his opinion of the Potions Master had changed drastically and he should be glad he had been wrong about Snape's demise. While the feeling of hate and disgust had been replaced with admiration and gratefulness, the fear remained.

Harry did not wish to meet Snape again any time soon. Preferably never. Still, there were things that were begging for closure. If anyone deserved to learn the truth of Voldemort's horcruxes, it was Snape who had been cruelly asked to share the most important piece in the puzzle of defeating Voldemort, while not being aware why he'd had to tell Harry to die. That, and the memories, which Harry had had safely bottled (with a great help from Hermione) to prevent anyone from watching them.

Week after the battle the news of Snape's awakening reached him. The meeting wasn't a pressing matter, he told himself. There were more important things to look after – offering the little comfort he could to Ginny and the rest of the Weasley clan. Truthfully, Harry wasn't sure if he could do anything to ease their pain. Probably not, especially not George's.

Fred had had a beautiful funeral. He would have loved it. It had been personally overlooked by George, who had made sure there were stupid jokes in the eulogy and assured the most improper use of his and Fred's products (which Mrs. Weasley found outraging and absolutely out of place) that made quite a few attendants laugh.

Tonks and Lupin's funeral had been less spectacular and probably even more saddening. It was true that Fred had had a whole life ahead of him, but somehow the ceremony had had compensated for it in some way. Maybe Harry had been sorrowed by the couple's funeral on the Teddy's account? Harry knew how it was to be an orphan that never had a chance to meet their parents. At least Andromeda wasn't aunt Petunia.

During the breakfast on the fourteenth day after the battle Hermione announced she was going to Australia to lift the enchantment from her parents. Harry supposed her prolonged stay at the Burrow had similar justification as his. He hoped Ron wasn't going to be mad at Hermione for leaving. He'd had enough of their quarrels in the recent months.

''My dear,'' Mrs. Weasley placed a pot of bright purple juice on the middle fo the table. Harry guessed it was made of some kind of magical plant he wasn't familiar with yet. ''Do you think it's reasonable to go there all alone so shortly after the battle? Death Eaters are still on the loose!''

''Molly, darling,'' Mr. Weasley folded a newspaper in half. ''Hermione is an adult witch. If she wishes so, she can go anywhere on her own,'' he reasoned in calm, rather bored voice. He clearly had been through this kind of discourse with his wife before.

''I'll go with you,'' Ron surprised everyone by his offer.

''Ron!'' Hermione exclaimed, visibly pleased. ''You really don't have to,'' she added eyeing Mrs. Weasley, fearful of enraging the woman.

Molly Weasley held her clenched fists on her hips and looked angrily at her youngest son. ''Ronald Weasley, you are not going anywhere!''

''Molly, darling,'' Mr. Weasley picked up his newspaper again and hid behind it. ''Ronald is an adult wizard. If he wishes so, he can go anywhere on his own.''

''Arthur!'' Mrs. Weasley yelled at her husband.

''Hermione, do you really think it is a good idea to travel to the other side of the world on your own?'' Ron pointedly ignored his mother.

Hermione furrowed her eyebrows. ''Do you think I won't manage on my own? Just you wait!'' she dared him.

''Mione, you know it's not what I meant,'' Ron rolled his eyes.

''Oh, our little Ronny is going to go into the broad world?'' snorted George, but it was as clear as day he was unconsciously waiting for Fred's addition to his mean comment.

And so it went for the next half an hour. As much as it made Harry nostalgic for the easier times before the second wizarding war, just as quickly the quarrel tired Harry.

As the days passed by, Harry found less and less reasons not to go the Hogwarts, especially after Hermione and Ron went to Australia (despite Mrs. Weasley's protests). Harry didn't join his friends – he'd had enough travelling for the next few years. Besides, he did not want to leave Ginny's side for any longer than it was necessary. He was sure Hermione and Ron would manage just fine on their own.

On the eighteenth day Harry ran out of excuses. He grabbed the bottle with Snape's memories and stashed it in his pocket. He went to Ginny's room and told her of his plan to talk to Snape. His girlfriend wished him good luck, jokingly adding to beware any potions that Snape could be offering him. Having found Mrs. Weasley, he informed her he was going to Hogwarts and he would be returning for dinner. The matriarch of the Weasley only warned him not to be late. Then Harry Apparated from the Burrow's backyard to the closest proximity to the castle he could've Apparated.

The sight of the castle awakened in Harry many emotions: nostalgia, sorrow, anger. Hogwarts had been his home for the last six years, or seven if he was counting his escapade. The young wizard chose the longer route so that he would not have to pass by Hagrid's hut. He knew once the half-giant spotted him, Harry could forget about returning on time for dinner.

He headed for the Hospital Wing. Unfortunately he did not have enough luck to avoid Peeves and his mockery. Harry silently gritted his teeth and tried to ignore the Poltergeist. Having reached the door to the Hospital Wing, Harry stopped and took a deep breath, thinking once again of the things he was going to say to his teacher. Finally, he pushed the door and scoped the room for the former Death Eater. Harry felt utterly stupid realising Snape wasn't there and instead many pairs of curious patients looked at him.

''Harry!'' Neville greeted him and nearly knocked over an empty glass he was picking from a bed table.

''Neville!'' Harry smiled at the sight of his friend. ''What are you doing here?''

Neville quickly grabbed the glass and laughed nervously. ''I'm helping Madam Pomfrey with the wounded.''

''That's-'' Harry wondered what he should say. ''That's great to hear, um,'' he nodded and hid his hands in the pockets of his trousers. People were admiring him for saving the bloody wizarding world when it were people like Neville who deserved to the appreciation. ''I won't be holding you up. Talk to you later, alright?''

''Sure!'' Neville agreed. ''Oh, Harry!'' he called like he used to when he recalled something. Harry turned around. ''The password is 'Mandrake'.''

''Thanks, Neville!'' Harry waved and left the Hospital Wing. He didn't know if his friend had meant the password to the Gryffindor common room or the headmaster's (or rather headmistress', he reminded himself) office. Not that he particularly cared. If Snape wasn't in the Hospital Wing, he was most likely in the Potions Master's office.

This lead turned out to be a dead end as well. When he walked in, he was met by the plump elderly Potions Master. Damn it, he really should have knocked.

''Harry, my boy!'' Slughorn welcomed him joyously. ''What brings you here? Came to visit your elderly, professor, have you?''

Harry fidgeted nervously with his fingers. ''Um, I-'' he hesitated. ''I'm sorry, professor, for not bringing any sweets with me. Truth be told,'' Harry lied ''I was thinking of getting you a crystallised pineapple, but it was nowhere to be found in Hogsmeade.'' The boy was rather convinced the man would not buy his story. Snape certainly wouldn't have. The young man had no idea why the Sorting Hat pondered on sorting him into Slytherin – Harry had none of typical Slytherin cunning and he was a terrible liar. At times like these he truly wished he had some more Slytherin traits. It would have made making excuses so much simpler.

The elderly wizard chuckled light-heartedly. ''I appreciate the thought, dear boy. It haven't been even three weeks since the battle. I am truly astonished that any shops are running at all! I suppose I'll have to live without pineapples for a little while longer. Ah, but enough talking about me. How have you been?''

Harry glanced at the armchair on the opposite of the professor's armchair. He knew the man expected him to sit down and have a chat. The elderly snake hasn't lost the hope of 'collecting' Harry, apparently. Harry, however, did not want to play that game – he came here with a clear mission. ''Uh, fine, I suppose. I mean, as fine as I could possibly be in these circumstances,'' he quickly amended himself.

Slughorn nodded solemnly. ''Yes, many of your schoolmates have lost their lives protecting the castle. It is always a great tragedy when such a young person is gone. Such a tragedy,'' he sighed.

Harry's only reply was silence. He felt words would be sacrilegious towards Fred, Tonks and Lupin's sacrifice. The two stayed in an awkward silence for next few moments, the only sound being the rhythmical ticking of a clock.

Slughorn was first to break the silence. ''And how are your friends?'' he cleared his throat.

''They are...'' Harry looked at the jars on the shelves, trying to think of a way to stop the conversation in the most civil way possible. ''Recuparating. So, are you going to remain at Hogwarts, professor?'' he changed the subject.

''I hope I won't,'' the plump wizard chuckled. ''Not because I don't enjoy teaching new generations of wizards, no. I just want to return to my retirement. Hogwarts deserves someone with more vitality than me. Actually, I've talked to Severus and it would appear he will be returning as Potions Master. With him as my successor once again, I can retire with my mind put at ease.''

''I thought professor Snape preferred the post of DADA teacher?'' Harry mouth were quicker to speak than his mind to filter his words.

Slughorn shrugged. ''We'll see. No doubt he is one of the most skilled wizards in both branches.''

''Um, so where can I find him?'' Harry cringed at his not-so-subtle reveal of his true intentions, but he couldn't let Slughorn keep engaging him in the conversation.

''Severus?'' Slughorn drummed his plump short fingers against his belly. ''I would expect him to be in the storeroom. He is barely out of the Hospital Wing, yet he still persist of assisting me in brewing potions for Poppy!'' the man said somewhat agitated. ''His stubborness will be his own doom one day,'' he sighed resigned.

''Yes, I'd better let him know,'' Harry said meekly and excused himself hoping for the third time being a charm, as muggles said.

This time Harry stopped to knock on the door. ''Come in,'' answered the silky voice Harry had known for seven years. They boy swallowed the lump forming in his throat and entered.

Snape put back some yellowish potion on the shelf, stepped down from a ladder, turned around and eyed his pupil sceptically. If the visit surprised him, he made no show of it. ''Potter,'' he greeted him rather harshly.

Harry had prepared for this moment. He had listed the things he wanted to say to his teacher: that he was grateful for his loyalty, that he admired it, that he was sorry for the awful things he'd said about him. Now that two black irises were piercing him, the carefully prepared words fled like spiders from a darkest corner of a room upon casting Lumos. His own gaze fell on the scar peeking out from Snape's collar. It was mostly covered by the fabric, but from what Harry was able to see, it didn't heal nicely. The skin was pinkish-red and wrinkled and jagged where it met healthy tissue.

''Are you quite done with staring at me?'' Snape asked impatiently.

''Um, sorry, sir, I-'' Harry desperately tried to catch a coherent thought. ''I brought your memories,'' he reached into his pocket and with a stiff movement showed the man the bottle with the silvery substance.

''I have been wondering where have they gone. I am glad to find out they haven't found their way into wrong hands,'' Snape said flatly, which contrasted with the sharp movement with that he took the bottle from Harry.

Harry's instinct was yelling at him to run away from the man, to leave before he enraged him as he always sooner or later had done. ''And I'm sorry for calling you a coward,'' his quickened pace of speech revealed his anxiety, but Harry felt he needed to keep talking to repel the thoughts that told him to get out.

There was a flash of something, Harry wasn't exactly sure what, in Snape's eyes, but it disappeared in the darkness of his eyes after mere miliseconds. ''I actually think that what you've been doing for all these years was one of the bravests things I have seen.'' After a moment of hesitation Harry added ''Sir.''

''I am so flattered to hear it from the saviour of the wizardkind,'' sarcasm in Snape's voice wasn't lost on Harry.

''Uh, professor Slughorn said you would be retaking the post of the Potions Master,'' was the thought that floated at the surface of the muddle in Harry's head.

Snape crossed his arms. ''No.''

''No? Professor Slughorn-''

Snape furrowed his eyebrows making his irritation visible. ''Professor Slughorn hears what he wants to hear. I won't be taking the post of Potions Master. Nor I intend to return to teaching DADA,'' he added when he noticed Harry opened his mouth. ''I am done with teaching you brats. Disappointed, Potter?'' he said mockingly.

Harry narrowed his eyes in confusion. ''So what are going to do, sir?'' He was well aware Snape hadn't wanted to become a teacher, but he had been forced by Dumbledore and circumstances. War had ended, Dumbledore was gone – Snape was now a free man. Still, Harry could not think of any other occupation that the spy could be holding.

Much to Harry's surprise Snape seemed to be startled by the question and his face have softened a little. Or maybe Harry was just imagining things. ''Providing that I am not locked up in Azkaban?'' his voice was daring, challenging Harry to say something he would regret later as he'd usually had when talking to his Potions teacher.

''I am sure the Wizengamot will clear you of charges, sir,'' Harry said firmly. The knowledge of Snape's loyalties just made the mere thought of the man being thrown to the prison utterly ridiculous and unjust. It was like somebody tried to tell him that two plus two equals five. Harry didn't know why the Wizengamot would share his unwavering conviction of Snape's innocence. He just was sure of it, almost childishly. Any other outcome would be simply, for a lack of better word, stupid and wrong.

Snape, however, did not share his pupil's conviction. ''And what makes you think they are going to? Haven't they wrongfully sentenced that mutt of your godfather?''

Harry clenched his fists and his body instinctively tensed. ''Do not call that Sirius! He fought and died for the cause!'' Snape was a hero, but so had been Sirius and Harry wouldn't let anyone offend his late godfather. Snape's dedication gave him no right to call Sirius names.

''As true as it is, it does not change my view of Black,'' Snape replied unfazed. ''Regardless, that is irrelevant now. What I simply tried to say is that the Wizengamot had sentenced wizards with less deeds on their conscience than myself. After all,'' Snape put his hands behind his back. ''I have killed Dumbledore, which you cannot deny. You were there, Potter,'' Snape arched an eyebrow, waiting for a response.

''I will go and ask the Wizengamot to let me be a witness at your trial. You are right – I was there and I saw it, so it would be illogical not to let me speak. I will testify in your favour, professor,'' Harry offered from the depths of his heart. If he could save the man from the dire fate of Azkaban, he had to do it.

''I am a Death Eater. It is a common knowledge. So tell me, Potter, why would the Wizengamot find me not guilty?'' he requested harshly.

''Well,'' strangely enough, Harry felt as if he was taking an exam as his palms were geating sweaty. ''You've changed your ways. You were taking Dumbledore's orders, including the one to...'' Harry hesistated, memory of Dumbledore begging Snape flashing before his eyes. ''To kill him. You did this to save Draco, that's what Dumbledore wanted.''

Ugly smirk of triumpf found its way to Snape's face. ''That is what you saw in my memories, obviously. However, you seem to be forgetting, Potter, that I am a skilled Leglimens and Occlumens. Do you have any proof I had not altered them?''

Harry grimaced in confusion. Why was the man trying to put the blame on himself? Harry didn't know what to say. Snape's memories had had no distortions unlike Slughorn's fake memory. But hadn't Dumbledore said it was the result of unskillful alteration? Snape surely wouldn't have modified memories in such a crude way. Maybe Harry should have studied the subject of memory alteration? Maybe Hermione knew something about it?

''More importantly, why would you defend me?'' Snape went on. ''It is I who had relayed the prophecy to the Dark Lord. I am the reason your parents are dead,'' the bluntness of the statement, even though the man was objectively speaking the truth, struck Harry.

''But as soon as you realised your mistake you tried to prevent it,'' Harry protested. ''I won't deny you are to blame for my parents' death. But so is professor Dumbledore for not granting them better protection, Sirius for suggesting Pettigrew as their Secret-Keeper and most importantly Pettigrew for betraying my parents.''

Snape narrowed his eyes. ''Interesting perspective, Potter. Your foolish Gryffindor need to save everyone and everything is truly touching,'' he said sourly. ''Though it does not come as a surprise.''

''Oh!'' Harry exclaimed, which gained him a disapproving look from the older wizard, suddenly recalling one of the things he wanted to say but had forgotten due to the stress of talking to his least favourite teacher. ''Speaking of professor Dumbledore, I think you should know why he had requested you to pass the message.'' And Harry told the spy of Voldemort's horcruxes and that the warlock had accidentally turned Harry into one. He also explained why he had needed Gryffindor's sword, not too eloquently thanking the man for having led him to the sword. To Harry's surprise it appeared that Snape listened to Harry's story with an unfeigned curiosity.

''It seems you have rightfully earnt the name of The-Boy-Who-Lived, having survived the killing curse not once but twice. Well done, Mr. Potter. There is probably no point in asking how you managed to survive the second time,'' Snape ironised. ''So, the war has ended and you saved the world as you were expected. What now? As far as I am concerned there is no prophecy of what the Dark Lord's bane is going to do following his victory. No clear path set forth or foretold destiny. Having fought and witnessed deaths of your friends, do you still hope to join the Aurors ranks?''

Harry shrugged. ''Well, yes, I want to become an Auror.'' The question seemed ridiculous to Harry – what else was he going to excel at? Herbology?

''If I were you, Potter,'' Snape eyed the younger wizard scrutiningly. ''I would have had enough of fighting warlocks for the rest of my life. I can only hope that the newly appointed Minister of Magic will not go easy on the famed saviour of the wizardkind. Wouldn't it be a shame it something happened to The-Boy-Who-Lived due to the decreased standards of Auror training?'' he mocked. ''Unless you have enough brains to decide to complete your education?'' he quirked an eyebrow.

Harry hasn't given much thought to the idea, frankly. He didn't want to leave Hogwarts for good just yet, it was his home, but who could assure him the school would be opened for students? On the other hand, it was as clear as day Hermione was going to take her seventh year and N.E.W.T.s and if Hermione returned to Hogwarts, so would Ron. Not that Ron would have much to say in the matter – joined forces of Mrs. Weasley and Hermione would not rest until Ron finished his education with several N.E.W.T.s in his CV. Ginny was going to start her seventh grade, which meant they were going to have classes together. ''I guess so,'' he said noncommittally, swaying from left foot to right and again to left. Standing in the not so spacious storageroom tired Harry's feet a little.

''Wise decision. Ah, but that's probably Ms. Granger's influence. She's always been the brains of your merry ragamuffin group. Nevertheless, I must thank Merlin that I'm not going to be your teacher anymore,'' Snape huffed.

Truth be told, Harry was thanking Merlin for Snape not returning to his original post as well, but it posed new issues. Harry has always been a disappointment in Snape's eyes, so there was no reputation to be lost. Slughorn, on the other hand, thought the boy to be a prodigy. The elderly wizard couldn't have possibly been further away from the truth. Harry's mind led him to the memory of Snape's potions book, now lost to the world. ''You would make a decent potions book author,'' he realised. ''The ones we use are pretty aged, wouldn't you agree? Um, sir?'' he added, forcing himself into developing a habit of being polite towards his ex-teacher.

''Yes, old Borage's works tend to be rather misleading. Though, I imagine the Ministry and the school have more pressing matters to attend than an outdated students book,'' Snape said dryly. ''Furthermore, professor Slughorn is rather fond of Libatius Borage's wo- What are you doing, Potter?!'' he yelled, barring his teeth.

Harry swaying on his feet felt to right and back, brushed one of the shelves with his shoulder, tripping a bottle. The bottle filled with some translucent potion tilted dangerously, giving the boy a false of hope it would not topple, and fell upside down. Harry desperately attempted at catching it without any luck. The bottle hit the floor with a crack, spilling its contents. The young wizard cringed at the sound of shattered glass, so reminding of the times when aunt Petunia and uncle Vernon had yelled at him for breaking plates. Scared of Snape's reaction, Harry crouched and started picking the broken shells of the bottle in hurry.

''Leave it!'' Snape ordered unkindly.

At the sound of his voice, Harry jumped a little and making his finger run down the sharp edge of the glass instead of picking it up. ''Ouch!'' Harry waved his finger and put it into his mouth without really thinking about it.

''Leave!''

Harry looked insecurily at the man and got up. ''I'd better go-''

''Yes, you'd better,'' Snape warned.

''Um, yes, uh, good bye,'' Harry mumbled and retreated in panic, leaving Snape once again all alone in the storageroom.

---

Snape watched the irritable spawn of Potter close the door. He looked down at the milky white substance on the floor. His first thought was to Evanesco the remains of the bottle and the liquid, but with a tired sigh he knelt by the puddle. The potion was unsalvageable, having been contamined with the boy's blood. Shame, it was a diffcult potion to brew and rather obscure due to the the policy of the Ministry. The latter was probably for the better, if only the Dark Lord had known of its use... All in all, Severus should have anticipated his supplies were to diminish once the boy had walked in. The famed Gryffindor was a walking disaster, especially around potions.

Maybe he could cast a Reparo on the bottle, he wondered inspecting the shells. After all, post-war economy never was doing good. Severus reached for one of better preserved shells of the bottle and managed to cut himself as well. He muttered a curse, in the muggle meaning of the word, that is. Then his gaze landed on the bright blue potion on the floor.

''What in the Merlin's?!'' Snape stumbled back away from the potion staring wide-eyed at it. Quickly he composed himself and the curiosity took the best of him. The man leant towards the potion and rubbed a drop of liquid between his fingers. It had the correct semi-thick texture and the delicate sweet scent as it should. Severus' expertise told him the potion wasn't faulty, even though it had to be. There was no possibility it had worked correctly. The mere thought was ridiculous! It was simply physically not possible. Damn it, he really should have Evanesco'd the potion.

Chapter Text

Snape paced through the Castle's corridors, his black robes billowing behind him. He stopped in front of the gargoyle and said ''Thestral'' in his silky voice. Minerva tried to make passwords to her office a bit more egalitarian, reaching for terms from different branches of magic. The choice of current password could have one more explanation – following the battle nearly everyone was able to see the damned beasts.

As he resurfaced from the spiral staircase, the Headmistress eyed him from her rectangual glasses. ''How can I help you, Severus?'' she asked, her voice revealing her patience running thin. Sometimes she forgot Severus wasn't her student anymore, especially when he was running around the Castle nearly begging (as much as she could imagine him doing that) anyone to give him any task. Any task that wasn't resting and recovering, that is.

Severus clipped his hands behind his back. ''I was wondering if you could lend me a book from your office?''

''A book?'' Minerva put aside her pen and looked her colleague deeply into his eyes.

''Yes, Minerva, a book,'' Severus said flatly. ''Several titles caught my attention when I was residing here, unfortunately due to the rather obvious circumstances I was not able to find the time to indulge myself in reading. And as it appears that I'm not allowed to partake in any sort of useful activities-''

Minerva looked scoldingly at him. ''I am glad you came up with ways to entertain yourself without straining your health. Take any book you want.''

Severus nodded curtly and approached the bookshelf. He brushed his finger against the spines of books, tilting every few books a bit to get the better angle to read the title. He took a book with a burgundy spine, opened it and run his finger down the table of contents. Then he skimmed the book and with a grimace put it away. He repeated the action several times until his eyes landed on the book clad in black faded leather. His finger tapped twice against a point on the table of contents and he carefully opened the book somewhere in the middle. He closed the book with a loud clap.

''I'll be taking my leave,'' he announced and headed for the staircase.

Minerva glanced at the book with a spark of recognition in her eyes. ''Isn't that the book that Ms. Granger brought me after the battle? Poor girl was so ashamed of taking it away that she kept assuring me the book was perfectly intact!'' the elderly witch chuckled kindly. ''I swear to Merlin she cares too deeply about rules even in the most grim times, as if she would be sentenced to Azkaban even for the slightest mishap,'' she shook her head.

Severus rested the book against his chest. ''I suppose I am lucky that Ms. Granger was so dutiful even in the most grim times,'' he grimaced.

Minerva got up and walked towards her colleague with a shadow of worry passing through her face. ''Oh, Severus, I did not meant to- Everything is going to be alright. I am certain you are going to be acquitted of all charges,'' she said apologetically. ''We all are supporting you, I hope you know.''

The 'all' however wasn't so certain, judging by the noise of hushed voices of ex-headmasters – some of them approving, some of them quite the opposite. Both teachers pointedly ignored it.

''Yes, it is quite difficult to forget as everyone keeps reminding me that. Even that brat Potter,'' he scoffed.

''Murderer!'' finally shouted one of the portraits.

''Maturus, Severus was simply following my orders, proving himself to be one of my most loyal companions,'' Albus of portrait explained calmly but firmly.

''He murdered the Headmaster in cold blood! If he truly were loyal, he would have refused to execute your order. Staining one's hands if unworthy of teacher of this noble school, let alone its headmaster!'' Maturus shouted.

''We have already established I had been a dying man with not much more life left in me. Severus had been simply doing me a favour, having spared me suffering and embarrassment,'' Dumbledore's portrait would accept no opposition.

''Well, Minerva,'' Severus seemed to be absolutely unfazed by the discussion. ''I would appear that not everyone shares your views in regard to my role in Hogwarts being taken over by Death Eaters.''

Having excused himself from the Headmistress office, Severus returned to his chamber. The place had one advantage over Potions Master's office – it was void of Horace Slughorn.

Severus sat down and opened the book on the chapter dedicated to horcruxes. Having not found a book on horcruxes in the library, he figured out it must have been in Headmistress office. The story told by Potter fascinated him. How broken and twisted a person had to be to accidently split their soul and not notice that? Naturally, Severus was aware how cruel and manic Dark Lord had been. He had seen it with his own eyes many times. He had felt it on his own skin many times. He wished he could say he didn't know why he had joined Death Eaters in the first place, but that would be a lie. Severus was a good liar, but he was not going to lie to himself.

Well, frankly, maybe the last one was a lie, after all.

The staff noticed Snape was slightly uneasy lately and assumed, rather logically, that he was worried about the impending trial, so they were quick to reassure him of their unwavering support. Severus somewhat appreciated the concern, even though he found it annoying. However, his colleagues couldn't have been more mistaken – Severus was rather indifferent to the matter of his trial. Obviously he did not want to find himself imprisoned in Azkaban, but he wasn't going to pretend he hadn't been a Death Eater or that he hadn't killed Dumbledore. Whatever the sentence was going to be, he was going to accept it without any objections, just like he had accepted that he was most likely going to die in the war.

There was another matter on Severus' mind. Ever since his last encounter with the walking disaster The-Boy-Who-Lived was, he was desperately trying not to think of what he had seen on the floor of the storageroom. The problem was, the more he tried not to think about it, the more he did.

It's absurd, he thought trying to focus on the book. The potion must have been faulty from the start.

I was not, another, more cold and down-to-earth though appeared.

It had to be – I have never slept with Lily, argued the first thought.

The fact that you do not remember it does not necessarily imply it has never happened, reasoned the second thought.

Why would she want to have to do anything with me? We have never talked again after the fifth year.

What if you were Obliviated? suggested the second voice. Severus loudly snorted at the stupidity of his own suggestion.

The boy looks like a copy of James Potter with Lily's eyes, reminded first thought.

The eyes see what they want to see. Didn't you want to see your old enemy in the boy? It was easier to hate him than hate yourself even more.

I could not have possibly hated myself even more, the first thought scoffed.

Exactly, the second voice was harsh.

Severus angrily furrowed his eyebrows and returned to the book. Maybe his colleagues were right after all – maybe he was simply looking for nonexistent problems so that he would not be thinking about the incoming trial.

---

On the twentienth-third day after the battle Hermione and Ron returned to the Burrow from their trip to Australia. Ron was shocked by what he had seen on the other continent (especially kangaroos and platypuses), earning him giggles from Hermione and Harry. It hasn't crossed Harry's mind that Ron had never seen animals like that. Even Harry had seen them, despite neglectful upbringing at the Dursleys. To him kangaroos and platypuses seemed fairy uninteresting when compared to, let's say, average blast-ended skrewt, whereas Ron appeared to be more bewildered by Australian fauna than by a dragon.

Hermione wasn't wholly satisfied with the results of her and Ron's escapade, leaving Harry worried for a good moment that the mission hadn't gone as planned.

''Oh, no, lifting the enchantment was a piece of cake!'' Hermione waved her hand sitting on Ron's bed.

Ron made a face and stopped munching shaved catterpillars. ''Maybe it went a little bit too well. Her parents were livid, let me tell, mate!''

''Hey,'' Hermione shoved her boyfriend, nearly pushing him out of his bed. ''As if your mom wasn't mad at your for running away with us, while having pretended you were sick!''

Hermione's parents couldn't do much to force their daughter to stay with them – she was an adult even by muggle standards. However, wanting to make amends Hermione decided not to stay during the summer at the Burrow.

Ron looked at her taken aback by the statement. ''But Hermione, you've just said they can't make you!''

Hermione rolled her eyes. ''I doesn't mean I won't be coming here at all. It's just... Well, I understand where their anger comes from and, frankly, I missed them. I guess I'm simply relieved to see them doing alright.''

Ron turned his face away from his friends. ''Good for you. At least your family had been spared,'' he muttered.

Hermione gasped outraged. ''Do you think I don't care about what happened to Fred? Do you really think I'm that selfish not to care about your grief? You me-''

Harry interrupted her before the argument escalated. ''When you were away I gave Snape back his memories,'' he changed the subject.

''You went to see Snape? Are you out of your mind, mate?'' Ron looked at his friend as if he had grown a second head.

''Ron!'' Hermione hissed.

''Hey, I'm still alive. In the fact, he was pretty civil,'' Harry shrugged. ''Well, until I knocked over one of his potions.''

Ron passed the bag of sweets to Harry who took one of shaved catterpillars. He rolled the candy between his fingers, suddenly overcome by nostalgia. All the sweets Ron and Harry had eaten in Hogwarts Express to Hermione's dismay... And to think the next ride on the Hogwarts Express would be the last one.

''What can I say, better avoid him in the future. You haven't really given him any reasons to stop hating you,'' Ron advised.

''Snape doesn't hate Harry!'' Hermione protested. ''He kept saving his life and even risked his own! Being a strict teacher doesn't mean hating students.''

''You wanted to say 'mean teacher','' Ron corrected.

Harry reached for another shaved catterpillar. ''Avoiding him should be easy – he is resigning from teaching.''

''Thanks Merlin!'' Ron sighed relaxed as if a burden had been lifted off of his shoulders.

Harry picked at the ends of his shirt, unsure whether he should say what he wanted to say. ''Malfoys' trial is going to take place on the 29^th of June, Snape's is scheduled for the 6^th of July.'' Seeing that his friends weren't quite understanding what he was getting at, he went on. ''I want to testify in Snape's favour. And in Draco's too, I think. He was a victim of circumstances as much anyone else. Not so sure about his parents, though.''

''Harry, that's wonderful!'' Hermione's face lit up. ''I want to help too. It should be easier than during Buckbeak's trials as we are already adults. I'll check my notes I've made preparing for Buckbeak's trial-''

''All those horcruxes must have broken your mind. I can understand you wanting to defend Snape, even though I think it's bonkers, but Draco? Until the very end of the battle he was ready to get us killed even though we had saved his life! Give it a rest, Harry,'' Ron huffed.

The next few weeks the trio plus Ginny spent looking through the wizarding jurisprudence, studying case law and trying to get through countless acts. As usually the majority of work was done by Hermione. Harry wasn't too pleased with this, rather predictable, turn of events – he didn't want to burden Hermione, who was always too eager to dive into stacks of books, especially if it meant helping, with a task that was primarily his own. He had already asked too much of his friends. Harry took different approach from Hermione, mostly relying on his own experience with the wizarding judicial system and what he had seen in the Pensieve. And Ron... Well, it was difficult to call what Ron was doing by the name of helping. The red-haired boy joined his friend in their new-found mission only to avoid Hermione's rage and Ginny's mockery, but he didn't put his heart in it, to put it mildly.

The group had even visited the Hogwarts' library, hoping not to bump into their least favourite teacher. Helping Snape was one thing, talking to him was another, to quote Ron.

Harry was beginning to lose hope. All the reading was so confusing, with weird legal terms, rules and exceptions from rules. How could anyone call it a justice when the fate of people he was hoping to save depended on votes of Wizengamot's members? Those people knew the Malfoys and Snape, and having met the Wizengamot, Harry was certain their prejudice would speak through some of its members. How someone as vile as Umbridge could serve a just sentence? Luckily Umbridge wasn't a member of the Wizengamot anymore, but Harry had a feeling that spite and hate weren't gone from the crucial wizarding institution just because Umbridge stopped being a part of it. Hermione could come up with the most brilliant defence strategy, but it would be a waste of time if the Wizengamot would not listen. Harry wasn't sure whether they would listen. Maybe in the hearts of Wizengamot's members sentences were ready even before the hearing?

''Harry! You should look into it! The trial of Branford Donnersberg!'' Hermione exclaimed too joyously for a library.

''Who?'' Ron and Harry asked simultaneously.

Hermione laid down forcefully a bulky volume of some aged book. ''Ah, why do I even bother, of course you haven't paid any attention during the history of magic classes!''

Ginny scratched her head, trying to recall the name. ''Battle of Elkshire?'' she asked insecurily.

''Thank you, Ginny,'' she eyed boys with flames on her eyes. ''Apparently men cannot be relied upon,'' Hermione grabbed a chair and sat down next to her friends. ''Branford Donnersberg served as a spy during the war of cloaks,'' she tapped her finger against Branford's name written in the book. ''Everyone thought he had sided with Numerus the Wandless, while he worked for Titania the Lightfooted. It's nearly like Snape's case! I mean, Branford killed Titania's husband, Stratus, instead of her, but the Wizengamot ruled that he had done it on Titania and Stratus' orders to make his play more believable and found Branford not guilty. Later, he was even called a war hero!''

Harry scratched his messy hair, not bothering to ask if Numerus really had no wand and if so, why was he so terrifying, and why in order to defeat him Branford had to kill Stratus on his and Titania's orders, whoever they were.

Ron wrinkled his nose, doubt visible on the entirety of his face. ''And when that happened?''

''1537,'' Hermione replied matter-of-factly.

''Do you really think it's still a binding sentence? It's been nearly five centuries!'' Ron kept glancing once at Hermione, once at the book and again at Hermione.

''It's great, Hermione, it really is, and I don't want to discourage you, but from my experience the Wizengamot doesn't care about old sentences,'' Harry pointed out.

Hermione got up hastily and hung her bag over her shoulder. ''If you are so smart and know what the Wizengamot wants, then find it yourself!''

''Hermione, wait!'' Harry grabbed her wrist. He was beginning to think Snape hadn't questioned why he'd believed in his innocence without a reason. Snape was as cunning as a Slytherin could be – the Wizengamot was going to ask the same questions, Harry realised. ''I just need a way to prove that the memories that Snape gave me were not falsified.''

Hermione pondered for a moment. ''I don't think we can prove it without an access to Snape's memories if it can be proved at all,'' she said carefully.

''Ugh, how I'm going to convince them Snape's not guilty?!'' Harry slumped against chair's backrest, looking at the ceiling.

''Well, asking him to give them back and show them to the Wizengamot isn't an option, is it?'' Ron asked without much enthusiasm.

Ginny turned the page of the book brought by Hermione and then looked at her boyfriend. ''Harry's defeated Voldemort. He knows the best who had helped him achieve that. Why shouldn't they believe him?''

Chapter Text

Leaning over the desk in the Potions Master's office (blissfully free of Slughorn), Severus bore his eyes into the Pensieve. The Headmistress was thoughtful enough to let him borrow the basin. The last thing Severus wanted to do was analising his most crucial memories in Minerva's office right in front of the portrait of Albus Dumbledore.

He has already stood there for at least an hour and half reliving his memories of Lily, painful memories he had been avoiding for years. He watched himself call his friend a mudblood. He saw her refuse to accept his apology. The awkward pretending they don't see each other when walking past each other in the corridor. Ignoring each other during joint Gryffindor-Slytherin classes. Having finished their education Lily and Severus found themselves on the opposing sides of the war, which hadn't given them many opportunities to bump into each other. The lack of any hints deeply irritated Severus. With the trial scheduled for the following day, it was likely Severus wouldn't have any chances at finding the answer to the question of Potter's spawn genealogy. Primarily, if he was Potter's spawn at all.

The wizard clenched his fists resting on the sides of the Pensieve. Severus would not have been such a valuable pawn in Dumbledore and Dark Lord's game if not for his ability to hide the truth when it was not supposed to be found out. Severus was also very knowledgeable wizard, and this time it rather posed an issue rather than an advantage. It was likely that somebody, perhaps even Severus himself, had Obliviated him and then added false memories to hide any of his relations with Lily Potter née Evans during the war. And if the witch or wizard who cast those spells was skillful enough there was a chance Severus was never going to recover the true memories.

On the other hand, there was a good possibility of no such an event having taken place and the potion had been faulty from the start. Severus rubbed the bridge of his nose with a groan. Nothing about his memories made him question their authenticity – he found no skips, no sudden repetitions, no hazy memories. Severus was too professional in that area to think it was enough to rule out the possbility of them having been artificially implemented into his mind.

In the third hour of staring into the misty substance in the basin Severus gave up. He spun his wand above the surface and from a distance it might have looked as if he were mixing basin's contents. Silvery smokeish threads gravitated towards the tip of the wand, concentrating around it. Severus in a graceful gesture raised his hand and the memories attached to the wand left the Pensieve. Then he used a wordless spell to return the memories to their rightful place in his mind.

Subsequently Severus focused on the memories he had shared with The-Boy-Who-Lived. After all Minerva lent him the Pensieve believing the wizard was going to use it to prepare for the trial. Keeping in mind Headmistress' kindness Severus would have loathed to betray her trust and arrive at the trial unprepared. Even more so as it he had a feeling she cared more if he ended up in Azkaban more than he had.

Furrowing his forehead he extracted the memories wincing in the moment when the memories left his mind and poured them into the Pensieve.

--

Testifying in the Draco's trial had been a strange experience. Even more so considering Harry had been a witness testifying in Draco's favour. The boys pretended not to see each other even though they were maybe four feet apart. If somebody had told him a year ago he was going to stand up for Malfoy, he would have thought that person had lost their mind. Harry's noble (Hermione's words) or insane (Ron's words) attempt at achieving what Dumbledore had given his life up turned out to be quite successful – Draco was sentenced to a year of house arrest. After that the blonde was going to be a free man and if he committed no crimes in the span of five years after finishing his punishment, he was going to be cleared of charges as if he had never joined Death Eaters. In the eyes of the law at least – Harry knew the Mark was never going to disappear from Draco's forearm.

Following Draco's trial Harry had a week to prepare for Snape's. Naturally Harry had begun thinking of his strategy much earlier. He asked Ginny, Ron and Hermione to testify as well since they were looking together for arguments in Snape's favour.

As much as Harry wanted to save his teacher from the horrors of Azkaban, there were people he wouldn't dare to ask for help. While Neville had spent his detention with Ginny in the Forbidden Forest instead of with the Carrows, so he could be a valuable witness, Harry didn't want to force his friend to meet with the man who was his boggart. And as far as Harry knew Neville he wasn't going to say 'no' if Harry asked him.

There was also the Weasley clan. As the members of the Order of the Phoenix, there were aspects of Snape's involvement in the war that they knew more about than Harry. The thing was, following the accidental cutting off of George's ear by the former spy, the clan, well, actually mostly Molly Weasley, was overtaken by the hatred for the man to the point that it seemed even the revelations of Snape's true loyalties weren't enough to dispel it. Harry didn't want to admit it to his girlfriend and his friend, but he was afraid the testimony of their relatives could make Snape's situation worse.

Finally the 6^th of July arrived. The group of four was aiming for dressing in their finests clothes to make the best impression on the Wizengamot. Hermione Apparated in the Burrow's backyard, where she travelled from her parents' home.

''Ronald Weasley, what have you put on?!'' she yelled upon spotting her boyfriend. Harry and Ginny looked at each other and smirked. Hermione in that moment truly reminded Mrs. Weasley.

Ron furrowed his eyebrows and looked down at his robes. ''What do you mean, Hermione? Bill borrowed me this robe. It's fine!''

''It's dirty and unironed,'' Hermione nagged and took out her wand, making Ron cringe as if he was expecting his girlfriend to curse him. With a flick of hand the spots from Ron's robe vanished and creases smoothed out.

Ron sighed with a silly smile on his face. ''Thanks, Hermione. What would we do without you?''

Ginny giggled. ''You'd walk like a fool in the Ministry.''

Mrs. Weasley run through the door, holding a small wooden box. ''Oh, Ginny, thanks Merlin you are still here! Hermione, it's so nice to see you!'' she smiled brightly and rushed to hug the brown-haired girl.

''Mooom,'' the two youngest Weasleys complained at the sight of Hermione patting woman's back fully aware there was no way she would be let out before the woman decided so.

Harry fidgeted with the sleeve of his robe, or rather a robe borrowed from Percy. ''Uh, Mrs. Weasley, we really need to go,'' he urged warily. ''We shouldn't risk being late.''

Molly Weasley freed Hermione from her embrace. ''Oh, yes, naturally, dear. Ron, Ginny!'' she handed her daughter the box. ''Your dad has forgotten his lunch! Would you be so nice and pass it to him since you're going to the Ministry?''

Ginny nodded and took the box, not bothering to argue they might not have enough time before the trial to look for their dad.

''Best of luck,'' Mrs. Weasley tactfully avoided speaking of the reason why they were heading to the Ministry. ''And I want you to return before the dinner!''

Ron sighed with his shoulders slumping and Ginny rolled her eyes.

''We'll try, Mrs. Weasley,'' Harry nodded with a tight smile on his lips.

''Ready?'' asked Hermione and the group Apparated, leaving the woman alone in the backyard.

--

The morning was chilly for July. Minerva wrapped her tartan robe tighter around her body, the clinking of her shoes echoing down the corridors of the castle. She had expected to find Severus in the Great Hall. She only found Filius and Sybill eating their breakfast. The seer, already drunk as Minerva didn't fail to notice, informed her that ''I haven't seen that rude eavesdropper today, but I do sense great danger ahead!''. Thanking Sybill for her assistance and reminding Flitwick to arrive on time at the Ministry, Minerva headed for Severus' chamber.

She knocked on the door. Hearing no answer, she slowly walked in. The room was empty, not that she was surprised – Severus was a morning bird and probably had had his breakfast while Sybill had been busy taking care of a bottle of some beverage.

Her next stop was Potions Master's office. The fact the only person in the room was Horace Slughorn, slightly concerned the Headmistress.

''Truth be told, I haven't seen the boy today,'' retired Potioneer said. Minerva could imagine Severus' scowl upon being called 'boy'. Whether Severus liked it or not, from perspective of the oldest staff members he was nearly a child, the youngest of them. Even Albus had tended to call Severus that way when students weren't around. ''Well, but today's a big day, isn't it? He's probably preparing for the trial,'' Slughorn reasoned. ''I'd look for him either in the library or in the storageroom.''

Unfortunately Madam Pince hasn't seen the ex-Potions Master in her realm of books that day. She didn't fail to mention Severus would come to the library nearly on daily basis.

By the time she opened empty storageroom Minerva was gritting her teeth and her nostrils flared like those of chimaera's. Has Severus lost his mind? Now wasn't the time for hiding on one of numerous rooms and chambers of the castle like he had in his teenhood! Of course a chance of her colleague escaping Hogwarts in hopes of avoiding the trial hasn't crossed her mind. Never again would she accuse Severus of cowardice, but having lost at least an hour running around the castle asking everyone if they had seen Severus made her want to tell him off like some unruly student. On her way to the DADA classroom a dark spot outside the window drew her attention. She stopped to take a closer look. Next to the white tomb of Albus (how fitting his name!) stood the black-haired wizard clad in black. Minerva felt her anger evaporate as she exhaled. She blinked the tears away and walked downstairs.

From the distance Severus might have looked peaceful, but as soon as the Headmistress was within hearing distance she heard the wizard's attempts at arguing with the tomb. Rather audible attempts.

''I won't even bother asking if you ever planned to tell me Potter was a horcrux,'' Severus sneered, clenching his fists ''You old senile fool! Did you know the brat was going to return or you just placed a bet?'' With each step towards the man, the words in Minerva's ears grew louder. ''Don't you think you've asked too much of me?! First kill you, then let Dark Lord kill the boy?! Were we all pawns in your game, yourself included? Oh, how adequate to get yourself of the equation so you don't have to take the responsibility for your actions! So that you don't have to suffer from your own stupitidy,'' he huffed, still oblivious to woman's company. Minerva made no move to catch his attention. ''What would have become of Lily's legacy if the brat hadn't returned? I did this all for Lily, that was the deal,'' he spat hatefully. ''And you used me well aware you couldn't keep yours end of it. You were so full of secrets, secrets you've kept from your deputy, the Order, the brat and me, that I'm beggining to question whether you knew Potter-'' Severus quickly turned his head, finally noticing the witch.

Minerva folded her hands in front of her, a smug smirk appearing on her face. ''So that's how you've spent this lovely morning, Severus? And there I was thinking you had nothing to say to Albus,'' she raised an eyebrow.

''I am glad to see you too, Minerva,'' the wizard kept a straight face. If he was embarrassed by the emotional display, he made no show of it.

''I understand that you need someone to vent your frustration on, but you really should be preparing for the trail,'' she pointed out, briefly glancing at the white marble. She also had questions she wished Albus could give her answers to.

Severus held his hands behind his back. ''I am ready, Minerva. I do not tend to walk unprepared into a battle.''

The Headmistress was about to order him to at least eat something before the trial, but reminded herself the wizard wasn't a child. Sure, he was rather scrawny and since the battle of Hogwarts eyebags were an obligatory element of his looks (or if she were honest with herself – since the events of the Astronomy Tower if not earlier), but stress was justified in his case. She nodded instead. ''Do you require much more time with Albus?''

''No, I was already finishing. I think you would agree that conversing with a block of stone is rather... pointless,'' he spoke calmly and turned towards the castle.

Minerva joined Severus' on the walk towards the castle. ''Oh, then you are mistaken. Quite the opposite – I think one can find wisdom in stone even if it keeps its silence.'' The ex-Headmaster and the Headmistress walked slowly and the morning breeze became warmer, a promise of warm summer noon.

---

The quatro Apparated in an alley not too far from a telephone box. Even though Harry was already a skilled practioner of the art of Apparition, he still loathed the feeling when his whole body compressing and decompressing. His stomach seemed to be especially fragile to this mean of travelling. Harry leant against a wall, waving his hand to chase away some irritating fly.

''You're OK, Harry?'' Ginny squeezed his shoulder.

Harry swallowed and nodded. ''Yeah. Yeah,'' he repeated looking at his girlfriend. ''Just need a moment to catch a breath.''

''Mate, don't tell me you're nervous. You were here last week and well, it's only the greasy git, so-''

''Ron!'' Hermione showed the red-haired wizard. ''How can you say something like that?''

Ron shrugged. ''I'm just a realist, Mione.''

''Go, I'll catch you,'' Harry said and his friends headed for the telephone box. ''You still have that lunch to pass, right?'' he forced himself to smile.

''Ah, finally she's gone,'' he heard a female voice behind his back. He knew that voice too well. Furrowing his eyebrows Harry turned around to meet Rita Skeeter. He should have figured out this buzzing around his ear wasn't a coincidence. ''So, Potter, an interview?'' she offered with a voice so sweet Harry wanted to visit a dentist. ''I didn't have luck catching you before young Malfoy's trial, but nothing's lost – this one is even better.'' Her Quick-Quotes Quill was floating next to her head and it seemed that it was eyeing him as studiously as its owner. ''So, Harry – or should I name you the saviour of the wizardkind? So, Harry,'' she wrapped her arm around his shoulders. ''You were so gratious with sharing so many fascinating stories with He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named-''

''You can call him Voldemort,'' Harry said boredly.

''And with the crowd of onlookers, but won't spill the tea for old Rita?'' she tutted. ''Now, what's the story with your mother and Snape? You claimed Snape loved her to the point of betraying You-Know-Who.''

''That much is obvious. Can you let me go now?''

As Harry was trying to go away from Rita, she stood in his way. The journalist put her hands on his shoulders and landed her piercing gaze on his face. ''Hm, hmmm,'' she bit her lower lip. ''Black hair – check. Hm, green eyes,'' she grabbed his chin and raised it.

''I'm really in hurry, I don't have time for your games, Skeeter,'' Harry hissed and if he still could talk in Parseltongue, he most likely would have. He decided to face Rita like a man. ''Hermione!'' he called hoping the girl hasn't entered the telephone box yet.

''Har-?'' he heard Hermione's worried voice. ''You!'' she exclaimed eyeing Rita like a cat eyed a bird before jumping at it.

Rita's fake smile just turned even sweeter. ''Now, there's no need to be so agressive. Well,'' she grabbed her quill and run the feathered end down Harry's face much to his disgust. ''I think I shall be going.''

Hermione moved to stand as an obstacle between Harry and the journalist. ''And if you even dare to write anything about Harry or about professor Snape's trial, I will tell the whole Wizengamot you are an animagus!'' she warned.

''Thanks, Hermione,'' Harry said following his friend to the telephone box.

Hermione turned around with a disappointment on her face. ''Really, Harry, you need to learn to stand up for yourself around Rita. She's not going to leave you alone any time soon.''

Hermione and Harry entered the telephone box. Harry dialed 62442 and explained they came to serve as witnesses during a trial. The two took their badges and the floor beneath them dropped down, bringing them to the Atrium, where they joined the youngest two of Weasley siblings, who had passed the lunch box to their father. Soon the group was directed towards the Courtroom Ten. Harry knew the way – he wasn't surprised to hear Snape was going to be heard in the same room as Harry and much earlier the Lestranges.

Outside the dungeon that served as a courtroom they met familiar faces of professor Flitwick and professor Slughorn.

''Harry, my boy!'' Slughorn brightened up.

''We're not late, are we?'' Hermioned asked concerned.

''Professor Snape and professor McGonagall are already inside, but the trial hasn't begun yet,'' explained Flitwick to Hermione's relief. ''We are going to be asked to testify individually.''

''Hagrid isn't coming with us?'' Ron looked around trying to spot the half-giant, which usually wasn't a difficult feat.

Slughorn theatrically cleared his throat. ''Well, hm, we have discussed the matter with our Headmistress and came to a conclusion that our Care of Magical Creatures professor should refrain from testifying in front of the entire Wizengamot for professor Snape's good.''

---

Kingsley Shacklebolt, recently officially appointed as the Minister for Magic, stood in the middle amongst the Wizengamot. ''Criminal hearing of the 6^th of July, into offences committed under the Sorcery Penal Code and European Penal Statute for Magic by Severus Snape, resident at Spinner's End, Cokeworth. Interrogators: Kingsley Shacklebolt, Minister for Magic; Ellias Tornrug, Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement; Cynthia Pebblepetal, Senior Undersecretary to the Minister. Court Scribe, Gawain Nortooth. Witness for the defence, Minerva McGonagall. Severus Snape, you are accused of the murder of Albus Dumbledore, allying yourself with Lord Voldemort, being a Death Eater and treason. What do you say of this?''

Snape was sitting in a chair and McGonagall was sitting to his right. ''I think, Minister, we should go through the offences one by one. I'm afraid some details of my role in the recent events might be confusing,'' he spoke calmly. ''To understand their nature, to receive the most faithful overview and to deliver the judgement that is going to grant the honoured members of the Wizengamot a clear conscience,'' he said the last part with a grimace forming on his face. ''The facts in the case should be established first.''

Shacklebolt nodded. ''And what is the witness for the defence' opinion on the matter?'' he looked at the Headmistress.

McGonagall straightened her back in the chair. ''I support defendant's motion. Therefore, I ask to hear witnesses first and the defendant as the last before the Wizengamot reaches its verdict.''

''Very well. Name your witnesses.''

McGonagall fixed her glasses, making them glint threateningly in the process. ''Filius Flitwick, Hermione Granger, Harry Potter, Horace Slughorn, Ginevra Weasley, Ronald Weasley and myself, Minerva McGonagall. Furthermore I would like to file a motion to incorporate into today's hearing the transcription of Narcissa Malfoy's testimony from page seven to page nine from the trial of 23^rd of June, the transcription of Draco Malfoy's testimony from page nineteen to page twenty-two from the trial of 29^th of June, the transcription of Alecto Carrow's testimony from page three to page six from the trial of 8^th of June and the transcription of Amycus Carrow's testimony from page five to page seven from the trial of 12^th of June, all with an emphasis on passages relating to the death of Albus Dumbledore, Severus Snape's work as the Headmaster of Hogwarts and mentions of the defendant being, to quote, 'a traitor', 'mudblood-lover' and 'blood traitor'.''

Kingsley turned towards the scribe ''Mr. Nortooth, please incorporate the aforementioned passages and hand the copies to the Wizengamot.'' Then his gaze landed again on Minerva. ''Do you have a preferred order of hearing witnesses?''

''The defence would like to hear Mr. Flitwick first, followed by Mr. Slughorn, then Mr. Weasley, Ms. Weasley, Ms. Granger, Mr. Potter and myself at the end before hearing the defendant. Moreover, if I may, I would like to ask for a copy of the aforementioned passages for the defence.''

The look on Kingsley's face told Minerva she might have asked too much of the Minister, but the man said nothing against the motion, only waved his wand making a copy of parchment find its way to the Headmistress hands. Severus merely raised an eyebrow sparing the parchment a glance.

Short, round wizard got up. ''Why do we need to hear all of these witnesses? The case is simple – the Carrows and young Malfoy testified it was Snape who murdered Dumbledore! He is a bearer of the Mark! It is merely a waste of Wizengamot's precious time,'' he scoffed.

''We will hear all the witnesses even if they keep talking until next morning, Ellias,'' Kingsley looked at the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. ''Because in darkness light shall prevail, as would have said the great Headmaster of Hogwarts, just mentioned by you. We cannot hope to reach a just verdict without hearing from witnesses. Be doing so we would not be any better than the dark forces we have defeated. Mr. Nortooth, please call Mr. Flitwick.''

The tiny teacher sat on the third chair. He stated his name, age and profession before he dwelled on Snape's record as a teacher – of his involevement in protecting the Philospher's Stone and having been of most trusted Dumbledore's subordinates. Then he moved onto the matter of Snape's reign as the Headmaster and his escape.

''Thank you, Mr. Flitwick, you are free to go. You may leave – then you are asked not to communicate with remaining witnesses through the rest of the trial. Alternatively, you may take a sit in the gallery,'' the Minister waved his hand towards the empty section of the podium.

Charms Master bowed. ''I'd like to stay during the trial, Minister.''

''Naturally,'' with a flick of Kingsley's wand staircase appeared and Flitwick climbed to the gallery. When he sat down, the stairs disappeared.

Subsequently, Slughorn was called. The elderly wizard was generous in flattery for Snape's deeds and his bravery, said that he was proud to call him his colleague and successor in the occupation of Potions Master. Slughorn also opted for sitting in the gallery, awaiting the verdict.

Then Ron came. His short and not too detailed description of Snape's involvement made Minerva question why she bothered calling him as a witness. Afraid of the red-head speaking something he shouldn't have and thus shrinking Severus' chances at acquittal, she quickly informed the Wizengamot she had no further questions for the witness. Given a choice to leave or sit in the gallery, Ron looked around somehow confused before finally choosing to join his teachers, probably anticipating his friends making the same choice.

His sister entered the courtroom next. Ginny's testimony was more beneficial for Snape as she talked of her, Neville and Luna's attempt at stealing Gryffindor's Sword and the punishment that awaited them.

''At the time we were too scared to think about it and we were so relieved to spend our detention with Hagrid, that we didn't ask ourselves what prompted professor Snape to serve this kind of punishment instead of detentions with the Carrows. I've had some doubts, but never shared them with anyone, I deemed them silly. We all thought professor was the bad guy, there was no point in questioning it,'' the read-head say.

''And do you question it now?'' asked a witch, whose cyan robe was peaking out from her Wizengamot garment.

Ginny shook her head. ''No. I don't need to question it. I know I was wrong.''

''How do you know?'' Cynthia Pebblepetal went on.

Ginny looked at the interrogating witch. ''It makes sense. Professor didn't want the Carrows find out Harry needed the sword, so he found a mean of punishment that reduced the risk of us being tortured and betraying the secret. If the Carrows heard of the importance of the sword, they might have figured out it was swapped for a counterfeit.''

As Ginny took a sit next to her brother, Hermione walked in. Her answers were at the same time precise and very detailed, as if the hearing were an exam. She didn't fail to mention similarity between Snape's and Branford Donnersberg's cases. She even made a reference to Sirius' trial and the outcome being a completely wrongful verdict. Then she moved onto the subject of Snape's role in the Order.

And then finally came Harry. The courtroom was as stressful as he remembered it. He looked right and saw his friends and teachers in the gallery, Ginny offering him an encouraging smile. Yeah, that about explained why no one had left the courtroom yet. He didn't recall there being a gallery, he realised. Maybe he had been too busy not getting expelled from Hogwarts last time to notice, maybe it was a new addition. There was some comfort in the thought he would be allowed to watch the Wizengamot reach its verdict instead of waiting outside to find out the fate that awaited the man.

He took the empty chair next to professor McGonagall, thankful he didn't have to sit next to the git he owed so much.

''Your name?'' the Minister asked.

''Harry Potter,'' Harry tried to remain calm.

''Age?''

''Seventeen.''

''Occupation?''

''Er... student,'' Harry swallowed feeling the eyes of the entire Wizengamot scrutinising him.

Shacklebolt intertwined his hands. ''What do you know about the case of Severus Snape?''

''What do I know...'' Harry wondered aloud. ''A lot, I think. Where do I begin-''

''Try to be concise if you will, Potter,'' Ellias Tornrug grumbled. ''We don't have a whole day for this farce.''

Kingsley's face hardened as he turned towards the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. ''Ellias, once again I am asking you to let the witness speak,'' the calmness of his voice contrasted with his face.

''I'll start with that I was wrong about professor Snape, like we are were,'' Harry made up his mind. ''He's been protecting me ever since I set a foot in Hogwarts. For example when professor Quirrel jinxed my broom. He was following professor Dumbledore's orders to secure the Philosopher's Stone.'' And Harry told the Wizengamot about Snape brewing the Wolfsbane Potion for professor Lupin and his attempts at warning students. He spoke of Snape warning Dumbledore of Voldemort's return and in turn Dumbledore ordering Snape to rejoin Death Eater's ranks. Without dwelling into details, Harry also recalled Occlumency lessons, which were supposed to prevent Voldemort from entering Harry's mind. The boy, however, decided it would be for the better if he omitted how poorly it had ended. He mentioned Snape trying to put a stop to the curse that attacked the Headmaster and working as a double agent under Dumbledore's instructions. ''I didn't know why professor Dumbledore cast Petrificus Totalus on me and hid me-'' he hesitated for a moment and went on without mentioning the Invisibility Cloak. ''I didn't understand at the time. I think he wanted me to see it was what he wanted. He didn't want Draco to become a murderer, so he left the task to professor Snape. You should know that professor Dumbledore's arm was blackened from the curse. I tried to deny it, but deep down I knew how it was going to end – even if the Headmaster had survived the battle of Astronomy Tower, he would have died soon anyway. With his death he killed many birds with one stone – he prevented Draco from committing a murder, he strengthened professor Snape's position among the Death Eaters and I think he spared himself much worse death,'' Harry counted on his fingers. ''I believe that's what he truly wanted. You didn't see him back then – I had. He was so miserable, ready to give up on his life. He was ready to meet his death. I thought he was begging Snape for his life. I was wrong – he was begging for his death. I only wish the mission with the locket wasn't a fiasco. Professor drank the drink of despair for naught. Regulus Black took it in hopes of destroying it,'' noticing stunned faces of the Wizengamot, he said. ''You didn't know? Regulus Black, Sirius' brother, betrayed Voldemort. He sacrificed his life hoping that it would put a stop to the bestialities-''

''Mr. Potter,'' Cynthia Pebblepetal rose up. ''Could you get to the point?'' she asked impatiently.

Harry awkwardly scratched the back of his neck. ''Right. So,'' he coughed and resumed the story. He spoke of the silver doe and of the Shrieking Shack. And then he recollected Snape's memories. He tried to keep them brief, feeling not authorised to talk about what perhaps were the man's most profound memories.

The question that Harry was afraid of and which he expected to hear arrived. ''One cannot deny that Severus Snape is a talented wizard. As far as we are concerned, he may be able to alter his memories without leaving a trace of any interferention. How do you know you were not given false memories, Potter?'' Ellias Tornrug asked.

Harry clenched his fist on his knees, sweat running down his back. He didn't have an absolute proof that the interrogator expected to hear. He only had his faith in goodness, a firm belief that the man that nearly had lost his life had done it for greater call. Belief in the power of love. In forgiveness. Snape had tried to teach him Occlumency and failed, accusing Harry of being too emotional. Hadn't Dumbledore said it was what had in the end protected Harry from Voldemort's possession? Suddenly he was struck with an enlightment. ''I know it, because professor Snape loves my mother,'' he said realising he felt no shame in admitting that someone other than his dad loves his mom as well. Similarly, he had felt no shame or embarrassment while revealing the truth to the darkest wizard of the century, but back then Harry had acted high on adrenaline. The majority of people would be repulse to the idea of acknowledging someone else beside their father having romantic feelings for their mother. Deep down inside Harry had expected himself to grow repulse as well, but now, two months after the battle he still found no negative emotions concerning that matter. On the contrary, he found the thought weirdly warming for some reason. ''I know it is true, because I saw his patronus – a doe, just like my mom's. You can't probably think it is a coincidence. It is not. Professor Snape has done all these heroic things to honour my mom's memory,'' he said firmly. ''And that's why Voldemort lost – he couldn't wrap his head around the idea of anyone sacrificing their life for love, or anyone finding love more important than power. That's why he wasn't able to see past professor Snape's play until the very end,'' he looked left and the black eyes of Severus Snape met the green ones of Harry. For a fracture of a second Harry saw an emotion pass through the dark eyes of his teacher. An emotion he could not figure out. He could swear he saw Snape's eyes soften for a moment... maybe he was imagining stuff. Harry looked away suddenly afraid in that moment of the things he could possibly find in his teacher's eyes.

Ellias Tornrug scoffed. ''That is not any evidence at all. You might be even right, Potter. This does not mean he loved Lily Potter. He could have been born with a doe as a patronus. And even if he loved your mother, it doesn't change the things he had done.''

''Tonks'- I mean Nymphadora Lupin's patronus changed when she fell in love with Remus Lupin. Patronuses can change! I don't believe professor Snape's patronus is just a coincidence,'' Harry protested clenching his fists on his laps.

''Patroni,'' Harry heard lecturing silky whisper to his left. He turned his face to see professor McGonagall eyeing Snape scrutiningly for not being able to stop himself from correcting Harry. The boy wasn't in the mood to fight back and argue that professor Lupin had used the 'patronuses' plural form. Fortunately it seemed that the Wizengamot hadn't heard Snape.

''My patronus is a stag, just like my dad's because of my love for him, even thought I've never really known him,'' Harry reminded and looked right into Tornrug's eyes, challenging him. ''I don't believe in this kind of coincidences. And if you sentence professor Snape, you will be sentencing an innocent man, just like you had in my godfather's case,'' he said firmly.

''Mr. Potter,'' Pebblepetal's high voice lectured him. ''I do not recall the Wizengamot asking you for your opinions.''

Shacklebolt stood up. ''Do you have something more to say on the matter?''

Harry hesitated. Yes, he had to say so much more on the matter were he given all the time in the world. No – his line of defence relied on his belief he hadn't been fooled by his teachers. The Wizengamot was growing bored by his testimony, he saw it on their faces. ''No,'' he decided.

''Thank you for your time. You may leave the courtroom or remain in the courtroom in the gallery.''

''I wish to stay,'' Harry spoke before joining his friends. When he sat down, Ginny grabbed his hand and reassuringly squeezed it. He repaid her with a tentative smile.

Then the time has come for McGonagall's testimony. The Headmistress spoke about Snape's role in the Order, the trust Dumbledore put in the spy and the secrets the former Headmaster kept from his colleagues. She talked about her hatred for Snape when he took Dumbledore's life and later his position. And she spoke of her regret over the feelings upon finding out the truth. Even though her hands slightly trembled, her gaze was fierce and fiery.

At last Snape's turn arrived.

''Severus Snape, we have heard testimonies in your case. How to you plead?'' Kingsley asked.

Snape's face was devoid of any emotions. ''As the Wizengamot had heard, I have killed Albus Dumbledore,'' he spoke calmly.

''There you have it!'' Ellias Tornrug exclaimed, pointing his fat finger at the man.

''Murderer!'' seconded Elphias Doge.

''Is he nuts? Why we had to say all that stuff if he admitted killing Dumbledore?'' Ron wrinkled his nose, offended his teacher has so rudely wasted his time.

''Ron!'' Hermione whispered angrily and rolled her eyes. ''How would it make professor Snape look to deny doing something everyone, including Harry, Death Eaters and Draco, have testified he had done?''

Ron scratched his ginger hair. ''Not too good, I suppose,'' he admitted meekly not too sold onto the defence strategy Snape has chosen.

''However,'' Severus went on ignoring the tumult. ''I have done it on Dumbledore's clear orders. I was repulse to the idea of taking his life, but that's what he expected of me. He also wanted me to aid Draco in his efforts wtih a condition that I would not allow the boy kill the old man. Complying with Narcissa's and Dark Lord's wishes in Headmaster's mind was supposed to build my reliability in the eyes of Death Eaters. Furthermore, I am Draco's godfather – I could not leave him all alone. I also admit I had joined Death Eaters. Being young and stupid is no excuse of such a reckless decision and if I could go back in time, I wouldn't have repeated the mistake. Alas, I cannot and I am going to live with the Dark Mark as a reminder of my greatest mistakes until my last dying breath. Maybe,'' he made a pause and repeated putting an emphasis on the word. ''Maybe I would have remained faithful supporter of the Dark Lord if not for Lily. Yes, it is me who had relayed the prophecy to the Dark Lord. As soon as I learnt the Dark Lord meant to take life of Lily's son I begged him for her life. Then I ran to Dumbledore and begged him to protect him... and then all the Potters. Following sixteen years I have spent as Dumbledore's agent. Would I have realised what a twisted tyrant the Dark Lord had been if it hadn't been Lily's life at stake? I will not try to fool you – most likely not. I know nothing I will do or say will bring her back. I don't ask you for mercy. I only ask for justice. It is your responsibility to decide what is justice in my case.''

Minerva stood up.''All you've heard today sums up into a coherent, logical story. Have you found any spot in testimonies of witnesses? Do you sense a deceit in their words? Do you think I would lie to you?''

''He is a murderer!'' Ellias Tornrug cried out. ''He said so himself!''

''If you do not believe the witnesses testifying today, all adamant that the defendant is an innocent man, believe the disgust this man had awaken in Death Eaters you claim the defendant to have supported,'' Minerva picked up the parchment with one hand and fixed her glasses with the other. ''To quote Alecto Carrow: 'We should've listened to Bella – she knew he was a fucking mudblood-lover' page three; 'She tried to warn to Dark Lord. She was only one who didn't buy Snape's story' page three; 'We were too blinded by his smooth pledges of alliegance to the Dark Lord to see what Bella saw – the man who had spent so many years in Dumbledore's pocket had to be working for the old fool' page five. To quote Amycus Carrow: 'I hope I will meet Snape in Azkaban. I don't need my wand to make him beg for mercy for betraying the Dark Lord. I will make the fucking traitor wish I were casting Cruciatus' page six; 'We shouldn't have trusted the fucking half-blood whore, his blood is as dirty as the mudblood he loved' page seven'', she read out. ''Trust Narcissa Malfoy when she spoke of the Unbreakable Vow the defendant made to her. Trust Draco Malfoy when he admitted he had told Severus Snape to break the vow and die, because he didn't want his help. Finally, trust Dumbledore's trust put into Severus Snape. And if your minds are still too thick to see the truth that shines as clear as day here in this room, trust your hearts. Trust in love this man has for Lily Potter, for the witness for the defence has one last evidence in the case,'' Minerva's eyes narrowed in determination.

''And that may be?'' the Minister asked.

''I knew Lily Potter. Indeed, her patronus was a doe. Perhaps I should remind you doe is an uncommon form of patronus? Two wizards or witches sharing such a patronus is an extremely rare occurence that never comes without a reason if the said wizards or witches have lived in the same period. Give Severus Snape his wand and let him cast the Patronus Charm. Let the Wizengamot see his patronus and deem in your hearts if it can be a mere coincidence,'' she urged.

Ellias Tornrug abruptly stood up. ''This is an outrage! To give a man accused of murder and treason a wand?!''

''I'm sorry McGonagall but you surely understand you ask too much of us. I have to agree with Tornrug – the offences Snape is accused of are too dire to return his wand to him,'' Shacklebolt said.

Minerva neatly folded her hands on her lap. ''Very well, Minister,'' she nodded. ''Severus, please take my wand,'' she presented her wand to the black-haired man, who seemed to be as startled by the offer as the Wizengamot. ''I trust you to be able to cast a corporeal Patronus even with my wand.''

''Minerva!'' Elphias Doge roared. ''This is a madness. You can't-''

''You are mistaken, Doge. I can and I will. I respect you for your life-long friendship with Albus. All I ask you to is to rely on the trust he had put into Severus.''

Doge's face turned red. ''And where that trust had led Albus?! I will never trust the man who murdered my friend! He should rot away in Azkaban!''

''I choose to trust Severus like Albus had. I give you my word of the Headmistress of Hogwarts that Severus will not use my wand to cause harm. Now, Severus, don't make me wait, my hand is becoming numb,'' Minerva urged her colleague.

Snape carefully took the wand from Minerva's hand and nodded maintaining the eye contact with his superior. He stroked the wood, feeling its foreign texture under his tips. Then he closed his eyes and exhaled slowly. He opened them once again and said ''Expecto Patronum''. The incantation was firm, but not as loud as when Harry said it. Silvery shape emerged at the end of McGonagall's wand and a doe hopped down the courtroom before jumping through the closed door.

''Thank you, Minerva,'' the spy said calmly, returning the wand to its rightful owner, as if ignorant to the shock on faces of several members of the Wizengamot.

The Headmistress proudly straightened her back. ''Have you ever seen a Death Eater capable of casting a corporeal Patronus?'' she asked rhetorically. ''Now, the defence believes it has stated its views on the matter clearly enough. We rely upon the Wizengamot's wisdom,'' she tactfully bowed her head.

Heart in Harry's chest hammered anxiously as if it were his own trial. His stomach clenched as the boy recalled all the things he ought to have said and hadn't. He should have mentioned his mom and Snape growing up together and having been friends even before attending Hogwarts. He knew what happened now.

''Raise your hand if you think the defendant should be cleared of all charges,'' ordered Tornrug.

Harry saw many hands going up in the air – newly appointed Minister's and his Senior Undersecretary's hands included. Many, but Harry wasn't able to tell if enough. Unfortunately just like his own hearing he was not given the time to count the hands.

''Raise your hand if you think the charges were proven to the defendant,'' said the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement.

Again, numerous hands were raised up, among them the hands of Tornrug and Doge. Harry felt the sweat forming on his forehead and Ginny squeezed his hand once again. Hermione's gasp didn't help to ease the knot in his stomach. He wasn't able to tell if his friend gasped of joy or of outrage.

Shacklebolt stood up, ordering silence in the courtroom with a gesture of his hand. ''Severus Snape, by the verdict of the Wizengamot you are cleared of all charges,'' he announced not bothering to hide his own satisfaction.

Hermione threw her arms around Ron as if Gryffindor had just won the final Quidditch match. Or maybe even more enthusiastically in her case – after all the girl wasn't too interested in the game. Harry smiled brightly at his own girlfriend. They did it! Severus Snape was a free man.

Chapter Text

Ron was relaxing on the floor with his arms crossed behind his head. The rug was nice, rather fluffy. He had to admit the place was nicer than he had imagined. Not that he would ever tell Hermione he'd imagined her parents home would be less... less something. He wasn't even sure what.

Mrs. and Mr. Granger lived in a flat. Hermione had said her parents have moved into new flat upon their return to England – the flat they had been renting was currently taken, so they couldn't go back there.

Ron didn't have any experience with muggle flats – he'd only visited Harry's aunt and uncle's house. Judging by Harry's behaviour, he also wasn't too familiar with this kind of muggle housing. Well, Harry's kin were kind of maniacs, so maybe they weren't that representative for muggles. Despite his dad's obsession with everything and anything muggle, Ron wasn't really knowledgeable about muggle stuff and the older he got, the more he had a feeling his dad wasn't too, even though Arthur Weasley was a self-proclaimed muggle expert.

Ron had already met Hermione's parents years ago when they and his own parents were shopping for new school year. Nevertheless their politeness startled him a bit, especially compared to what he knew about the Dursleys. He almost felt... welcomed? They hadn't even appeared shocked to see four teenagers Apparating in their flat. Each muggle was different, just like wizards, he supposed.

Life is good, Ron concluded, forgetting for a moment about the war, about Fred's death and about incoming school year that was supposed to end with N.E.W.T.s. If only Hermione were kind enough to brush his hair, he sighed.

''Hey, don't fall asleep already!'' Ron reluctantly lifted an eyelid upon his sister's voice breaking the bliss of the moment.

''I'm not falling asleep!'' he protested lamely. ''Besides, the sight of you two cuddling all the time is utterly boring.'' At least Harry had enough dignity for his face to turn red at the remark.

''Oh, you hypocrite! Should I remind how you and Lavender-'' Ginny crossed her arms in a very Molly Weasley manner.

Surprisingly it was Hermione who interrupted the girl. ''I don't think we should be talking about Lavender in this way considering that...'' she lowered her voice to nonexistence, for once looking more embarrassed than jealous at the mention of Lavender Brown. She cleared her throat. ''Anyway, I think we should go tomorrow to get our school supplies,'' Hermione opted for an abrupt change of subject.

''Hermione,'' Ron huffed. ''It's only mid-July!''

''Exactly! That's why we should be making preparations,'' Hermione insisted.

Ron lifted his head to look at his girlfriend. ''No! That's why we should be still resting and not thinking about Hogwarts, OK?''

Harry pulled his knees closer, plucking at the ends of his trousers. ''Do you think Scribbulus Writing Implements and Flourish and Blotts are already opened?''

''My point exactly!'' Ron seconded his friend.

Hermione rolled her eyes. ''No, your point was that you didn't want to occupy yourself with school supplies.''

''Well, it wouldn't hurt to check, right? If they don't have books, we can borrow one of Charlie's or Bill's or Percy's or-'' Ginny halted realising she would have to name her late brother if she kept going. ''You know, the regular older brothers' school stuff.''

''I think Hogwarts will be prepared to supply its pupils if we can't get our equipment,'' Hermione said with conviction. ''Besides, if the stores aren't opened already, we can check later.''

''And I think you put too much trust in our school,'' Ron deadpanned and then turned towards Harry, questioningly raising his eyebrow. ''Alright, mate? You seem awfully quiet.''

''Uh,'' Harry waved his hand dismissively. ''It's nothing.'' There was a recurring thought that greatly bothered Harry – the brief look in Snape's eyes, so un-Snape-like, when his gaze met Harry's. The boy just couldn't decipher the emotion behind that expression.

Unfortunately the boys didn't have much to say once the girls decided they wanted to visit the Diagon Alley. Once again Ron was surprised to see Hermione's parents give her muggle money and hear them instructing their daughter to exchange them in the Gringotts. He doubted his dad would be able to name any muggle bank, to be honest. Because muggles had banks, right?

Flourish and Blotts were opened, only somewhat short on the supplies – a rather understandable situation in the light of the spring's events. Naturally, being deficient in goods wesn't an issue for the merchants once they saw the saviour of the wizarding world walk into their humble establishment.

Harry felt somewhat uncomfortable to utilise that privilege. Ron, on the other hand, was more than happy to accept sellers' generosity, especially if they offered their goods at reduced price or threw in some extras for free.

Having lost Snape's copy of Advanced Potion-Making, Harry had to buy another one. He sighed at the memory of the textbook – Potions were so much easier with Snape's notes. It was a shame Snape hadn't taught the subject in the way he had made notes in the book. Classes would have been much more enjoyable. And the fact he was going to become an utter disappointment in Slughorn's eyes wasn't nothing to look forward to. He tried to comfort himself that if he had received an E.E. at the O.W.L.s he should be able to achieve an E.E. at the N.E.W.T.s. Otherwise his auror career was gone.

There was also Transmutation. Harry wondered who was going to teach the subject since professor McGonagall became the Headmistress. At least Charms with Flitwick were a relatively easy subject.

''Maybe we could walk into Madam Malkin's?'' Harry offered once the quatro left Flourish and Blotts.

''Why?'' Ron asked warily. ''My robes are fine.''

''Well,'' Harry scratched the back of his head. ''Mine are too short. Besides I'm sure they got torn or something during our mission.''

''Sounds fine by me,'' said Ginny. ''I'll keep you company. Ron doesn't have to come with us if he doesn't want to,'' she smirked meanly at her brother.

''I think I'll go to Scribbulus Writing Implements – I've lost my ink somewhere in the forest, I guess?'' Hermione admitted.

''Can't all of us go together, please?'' Harry asked uncertainly. Seeing his friends' confused faces, he elaborated. ''It's our last year at Hogwarts and I... I wanted to give you something to thank you for those, erm, wonderful and, uh, scarry years together, alright?''

Hermione squeezed his arm. ''Oh, Harry that's so sweet of you, but you don't owe us anything.''

''I'd really like to get you something. Look, Ron and Hermione, I haven't got you any birthday presents-''

''Because we were running after horcruxes, remember, mate?'' Ron smacked him rather playfully. ''Give it a rest Harry!''

''And Ginny's birthday is soon,'' Harry reminded.

''Yours is sooner,'' Ginny pointed out.

''Besides new robes for four of us would cost you a fortune!'' Ron exclaimed.

Harry lowered his head somewhat sorrowfully. ''That's not a problem. My parents left me some money. Sirius too... and I don't want it. I've never wanted. At least I'll be able to do something for people I care about.''

''Oh, alright!'' Ron threw his hands up. ''If it'll make you feel better then fine!''

Having gathered their new robes, the group headed for Scribbulus Writing Implements. Harry briefly glanced at the owl display and his heart ached at the memory of his loyal feathered companion. He knew he would eventually need to get a new owl, but the mere thought of buying another owl felt like betrayal to Hedwig's memory. He was going to stay one more year at Hogwarts where they had an owlery – if he needed to sent a message, he could simply borrow an owl.

''And where do you think you are going?'' they heard a familiar voice. ''Go to the Diagon Alley and you won't even drop by to see how your brother is doing?'' George stood in front of his shop. Ginny stuck out her tongue at him. ''Very mature of you, Ginny. Mom will be happy to hear about it,'' he spoke smugly.

''Oi, George, get lost. We get enough of you on daily basis,'' Ron sneered. ''You'll make me pay extra for being your brother and give your stuff for free to Harry as you always do.''

George snorted. ''Whatever a family is for, Ronny?''

Sensing the incoming escalation Hermione addressed the owner of Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes. ''Sorry, George, but we've got quite a list of necessities to get for new school year.''

George exaggeratedly rolled his eyes. ''Hermione, relax, you still have one and half a month!''

''You tell her,'' Ron made a face. ''Hey!'' he said as Hermione shoved her elbow into his ribs.

''And if you fail N.E.W.T.s, you can always find a job in my humble establishment,'' George bowed with a nonchalant smirk on his face.

---

The Burrow and Hermione's parents' flat weren't the only places where the group of friends spent their summer. Grimmauld Place 12 required some cleaning after having been raided by the Death Eaters. Of course Harry wasn't going to say a bad word about Kreacher's house maintenance. The house elf was old and the house was vast. Besides, Harry spent most of his time in the Burrow with the Weasleys. He kept warm memories of him, Ron and Hermione stay in the place during their quest, but living there with only the house elf as the company reminded him too much of Sirius. Of how the house became Sirius' prison and how his misbehaviour led to his godfather's demise.

There was also the issue of spells cast on the house by the Mad-Eye in order to prevent Snape from entering it. Tongue-Tying Curse and the vision of Dumbledore had lost their allure the moment Harry had learnt about Snape's true alliances. The problem was Alastor Moody was gone and therefore couldn't lift his spells. And were Moody's spells well guarded? At first they tried something simple as the Finite Incantatem. Like the group had anticipated, the spell didn't work – it would be too simple for the famous Mad-Eye.

After several unsuccessful attempts with various spells, Harry called the house elf. ''Kreacher, would you be so kind and remove the spells Alastor Moody had set as a trap for professor Snape?''

Kreacher bowed politely. ''Kreacher will get rid of those nasty spells.'' The house elf raised his arm in the direction of the entrance door and then fell down to the ground and started yelling and crying.

''Kreacher, what happened?'' Hermione approached the house elf and offered him a handkerchief, but the house elf only looked at her angrily and swatted her hand. ''Kreacher hasn't fulfilled his Master's wishes. Kreacher is a bad bad house elf!'' the being cried. ''What would Kreacher's Mistress say if she saw what a failure he is? She'd punish him! No, even worse – she'd sent him away!''

Hermione glared expectantly at Harry. The boy had thought Kreacher would have been able to deal with Moody's spells. He had been able to escape Voldemort's hideout in the cave, after all. ''No one is going to send you away, Kreacher. I'm not disappointed with you.''

''But Kreacher has failed his Master!'' the house elf sobbed.

Harry pinched the bridge of his nose. House elfs were truly difficult to reason with. ''Kreacher, I order you to stop thinking of it as failing your Master, am I clear?''

The house elf sniffed. ''Yes, Master.''

Hermione being herself proposed they checked the books in the house for the answer to Moody's spells. Actually, it was more of a statement that accepted no objections than a proposal. Even though it was foreseeable, upon hearing the word 'books' Ron looked like a deflated balloon. By the time of dinner they haven't found the counter-spell yet, but at least Kreacher's mood lifted at the praises he received for his cooking.

---

The eighteenth birthday Harry celebrated in the Burrow with his closest friends and the member of the Weasley clan residing there. It was a humble celebration and Harry was pleased it remained that way. It would have felt wrong to hold a party not even three months since Fred's death.

''Here you go, dear,'' Mrs. Weasley placed a cake decorated with candles in front of the birthday boy. ''Make a wish,'' she smiled. Harry briefly wondered and blew the candles, receiving an applause.

Ginny and Hermione got up, whispering and quietly giggling. Ron glanced at the girls and tried to join them unnoticed, but was betrayed by the loud shuffle of his chair.

Harry watched his friends leave the dining room clearly exhilarated about something and smiled at the sight. In moments like that he felt there was no need to make wishes – he had everything needed in the world.

After few moments Ginny, Ron and Hermione returned pushing each other and holding together what was a broomstick poorly wrapped in the present paper. Due to broomsticks' distinctive shape it was hard to surprise the receiver with a present.

''Harry,'' started Ron, but Hermione interrupted him.

''We know how much you loved your broom, which was sadly lost-''

''And how much you love Quidditch, so we decided to-'' said Ginny, but what followed was a cacophony of sentences.

''Hey, I'm the one talking, I'm his best mate, alright?'' Ron protested.

Ginny glared angrily at her brother. ''And I am his girlfriend!''

Harry fidgeted with his fingers. ''Guys, it's very thoughtful, but you shouldn't have.''

''We want to hear none of that, Harry,'' Hermione rebuked him.

Mrs. Weasley encouragingly pushed him in his friends' direction. ''Go ahead, open it.''

Harry took the broom from his friends' hands and unwrapped the paper. It was a Firebolt, looking just like the one his godfather had bought him. Even the colours were the same. ''I-I don't know what to say... it must've cost you a fortune!''

''That's what you get for buying us new robes,'' Ron said menacingly.

''Really, thank you,'' with a broom in his hand he went for a group hug. He heard a sound of flashlight.

''Oh, splendid, Arthur!'' Mrs. Weasley watched the scene blissfully and then looked at her husband, who was holding a camera. ''It'll make such a nice picture!''

Mr. Weasley put the camera aside and rubbed his hands. ''Alright, since we're past the presents, I think Harry can do the honours and cut the cake. What would you say?''

''Finally!'' George exclaimed. ''I'm starving here!''

Following becoming an adult in the light of muggle law, Harry went to a muggle post office to rent a Post Office Box for Grimmauld Place 12. As the house was concealed from the prying eyes of muggles, no muggle post was delivered there. Harry wasn't expecting to receive any muggle mail, but part of him did this to spite old Walburga Black. He couldn't wait to faux-casually inform Kreacher of the possibility of muggle mail being sent to the Grimmauld Place 12 loudly enough for the wretched painting to hear. And boy, wasn't the house much more pleasant without the mock-spectre of Dumbledore jumping at him everytime he walked in?

Chapter Text

''Arthur!'' Mrs. Weasley hurried her husband up. ''Arthur!'' she repeated firmly seeing the first call had no effects on him. ''We'll be late!''

''We won't, Molly,'' Mr. Weasley spoke calmly, combing his thinning ginger hair. ''See, kids are already packed up,'' he waved with his comb in Ginny, Ron and Harry's direction, who were standing with their luggage at ready.

''Yes, and you are the only person who isn't prepared,'' Mrs. Weasley narrowed her eyes angrily at her husband. ''Have you forgotten we have promised Xenophilius to pick Luna up and drive her to the King's Cross Station?''

Putting her fists on her hips seemed to be an ultimate argument on Molly's side as Arthur sighed tiredly. ''Alright, kids, put your luggage into the boot.'' Teenagers nodded and headed for the car, while Mr. Weasley grabbed a sandwich and a cup of coffee, only to hear his wife's offended snort.

Ten minutes later they left the Burrow and drove past several hills until they reached the Lovegood house. The building was still mostly in ruin, but next to the tower-like main building, was standing a smaller wooden hut, probably a temporary housing for the Lovegoods.

Light blonde opened the door of the hut, holding a large, weirdly colourful suitcase in her case.

Mr. Weasley got out of the car and rushed to help the girl with her luggage, while Mrs. Weasley greeted Luna. ''Isn't your dad going to come out? I'd like to say 'good morning' to him,'' Mrs. Weasley smiled.

''No,'' Luna shrugged. ''He doesn't feel like leaving the house today.''

Mrs. Weasley nodded politely. ''Oh, I understand. Please give him my wishes of good health.''

Luna got into the car, choosing the least comfortable route that required crawling through Ron's, Ginny's and Harry's laps. Having sat down, she said in her usualy dreamy and slightly distant voice. ''Harry, Ginny, Ron, it's nice to see you. Oh, that's an interesting machine, I've never had a ride in something like that,'' she looked around the car. ''I hope it's not infested with Goorandings, they love metal, you know?'' The group has known Luna long enough not to be surprised at the mention of strange creatures they've never heard of before. None of them bothered to ask Luna to elaborate, aware it would be a pointless endeavour.

They arrived at the King's Cross Station about twenty minutes before Hogwarts Express' departure and Mr. Weasley couldn't help himself from pointing out he knew there was no need for rush. Soon enough they were joined by the Grangers.

Hermione ran towards her friends to hug them. ''Luna! I didn't know you'd come with the Weasleys and Harry,'' she smiled.

''Yes, my dad is busy repairing our house,'' Luna tilted her head as if she was trying to see through Hermione, whose face grew red.

Hermione scratched her hand. ''I'm sorry about that and uh, the Erumpent horn.''

''You've got nothing to apologise for. It wasn't the horn – dad told me it was a Crumple-Horned Snorkack's horn,'' Luna said with full conviction. ''They are not explosive.''

Mrs. Weasley approached Mr. And Mrs. Granger to greet them. ''And this is Luna Lovegood, Ginny's friend and our neighbour.''

Mrs. Granger smiled politely at the blonde-haired girl. ''It's nice to finally meet you in person. Hermione told us about you.''

Luna narrowed her eyes, watching Hermione's parents closely. ''For muggles there's a lot of magical aura around you. Maybe it's the Nargles,'' she shrugged and Hermione looked apologetically at her parents.

Meanwhile Mrs. Granger and Mrs. Weasley found a common subject to vent about – being fooled by their children who unbeknownst to their parents went on a possibly suicidal mission, which resulted in Ron and Hermione receiving every few moments a disapproving glance from their mothers.

Ten to eleven, the teenagers said their good-byes and walked through the barrier.

The mixed Ravenclaw-Gryffindor group sat together in a compartment. The first thing Luna did upon finding her spot was taking out the newest issue of the Quibbler.

''Your dad is still printing that?'' Ron wrinkled his nose.

''Yes,'' Luna said noncommittally as she turned the magazine 90 degrees to the left.

Ron and Hermione were relieved to be set free of their prefect duties – having skipped their seventh year, they had been replaced with other Gryffindors. They spent their final beginning-of-the-school-year ride on the Hogwarts Express as usual – gossiping, buying and eating sweets until Hermione, a true dentists' daughter, warned them of caries. It felt strange to ride to the Hogwarts without Neville by their side.

Ron shuddered at the sight of Thestrals and Hermione was visibly disgusted by the creatures. ''So, you've always seen them?'' he asked.

''Yes,'' Luna fixed her spectacles.

''Every year? Ew, they are awful,'' Ron whined.

''Stop complaining, Ron,'' Ginny rolled her eyes. ''They've always been here, we just couldn't see them.''

''I wish I could unsee them. Do you think Obliviating the memory of witnessing death would make me lose the ability to see them?'' Ron asked hopefully and Harry sympathised with his friend. Seeing Thestrals for the first time had been a shock for him as well.

Hermione pushed her boyfriend towards a carriage. ''We're not testing it, Ron. Unless you want to end up like Lockhart.''

Having reached the castle, the group split and headed respectively for their houses' common rooms. They quickly changed into school robes and ran down school's corridors for their final one Welcoming Feast. The Great Hall was already crowded when they walked in. House ghosts were already floating alongside tables and greeting students. Luckily not all students and more importantly not all teachers were present. Walking towards the Gryffindor table Harry felt nearly everyone's eyes on him. And not all of them were friendly.

Ginny sat next to Harry. On the opposite side of the Gryffindor table sat Ron and Hermione, so that the quatro could comfortably talk during the feast.

''Slughorn hasn'r arrived yet,'' Hermione pointed out.

''Maybe he decided to skip the feast like Trelawney?'' Ron sighed dreamily, thinking about the appetising meals that were going appear in front of them. His stomach grumbled.

''No way, Slughorn loves attention,'' Harry reminded.

''You ate all those sweets and you're still hungry?'' Hermione visibly deflated and Ron only shrugged in response.

''Who is that elderly woman?'' Harry tilted his head towards teacher's table, trying to ignore Dennis Creevey's hostile glare, which was something new. Usually the boy had irritated Harry with a gaze full of admiration, perhaps even worse than his late brother's.

Ginny narrowed her eyes, analysing woman's features. ''I think I saw her,'' she said carefully.

''Yes, she does look familiar,'' Hermione pondered.

Ron snapped his fingers with his eyes filled with sudden enlightment. ''The battle of Hogwarts! She was fighting on our side!''

Ginny rolled her eyes. ''Well, obviously not on the Death Eaters' side, duh.''

Hermione looked incredulously at her boyfriend. ''Ron, you're right! What is she going to teach?''

''Transmutation maybe?'' Ron offered nonchalantly, yet doing a poor job at hiding the satisfaction out of Hermione admiting he was right.

''Or DADA more likely,'' Harry suggested, but his voice was flooded by the sudden murmurs coming from all of the tables.

Harry glared with irritation at Ron who was pulling the end of Harry's sleeve through the table. ''Harry, what is he doing here? You said he was quitting!'' the red-head hissed.

Harry watched the familiar greasy-haired man with a large nose take a seat next to professor McGonagall. ''That's because he told me that,'' Harry whispered angrily, afraid of speaking louder. He wouldn't put it past the former spy to hear Harry's voice through the swarm of dissatisfied mutters. The mutters that had their origins simultaneously at the Gryffindor table, the Slytherin table, the Ravenclaw table and the Hufflepuff table.

Ron crossed his arms, not bothering to hide how offended he felt. ''We really shouldn't have helped him in the court.''

''Ron!'' Hermione scolded him.

Ron raised his hands, showing his helplessness. ''What, Hermione? He deceived Harry. He played a card of the victim and assured him he wasn't going to teach us to lure Harry into witnessing in his favour. And once he was acquitted – boom! He's in Hogwarts again! I knew he couldn't be trusted.''

''Is he going to teach us DADA or Potions?'' Ginny wondered aloud.

''Well, Slughorn still isn't here, so my bet is on Potions,'' Hermione reasoned.

Harry sceptically quirked an eyebrow. ''He hates the subject. He always wanted to teach DADA.''

Hermione made her typical know-it-all face. ''That's what Snape wanted everyone to think, but-''.

Their conversation was interrupted by the loud sound of chair and tables being moved around.

''Sorry, my bad, sorry. Forgive me. Had ter pick up the youngsters,'' Hagrid winced at the noise he made trying to fit between chairs and tables. ''Ma'am,'' he bowed politely towards the Headmistress, accidentally dipping his beard in professor Sprout's goblet, which earnt him laughter of the whole Great Hall.

McGonagall kept a straight face. ''Not a problem at all, Hagrid. Please, take a sit. I take it the new students shall arrive soon?''

''Yes, ma'am,'' the half-giant smiled awkwardly at the mess he'd made.

The professor of Care of Magical Creatures wasn't mistaken. Five, maybe ten minutes later eleven-year-olds started entering the Great Hall, with their eyes filled with amazement and fright. Harry coughed up a good-hearted laughter. He remembered standing there, waiting for the sorting ceremony to begin.

''Is everyone present?'' the Headmistress asked loudly.

''Yes. Yes, ma'am,'' Mr. Filch bowed grimacing uglily and closed the door.

''Very well, let us begin,'' McGonagall clapped her hands. ''My name is Minerva McGonagall and I am the Headmistress of Hogwarts. First of all, I'd like to welcome our old students and our new students. I hope you are going to find our school like a home. A home that has suffered a terrible loss, still a home, nevertheless. Before we start the sorting ceremony, I would like to ask everyone to stand up and pay a respect to those who are not with us anymore, who bravely sacrificed their lives to put stop to Lord Voldemort's machinations.'' At the mention of the once-forbidden name some students winced, Ron included. After a minute of the entire Great Hall standing in silence, McGonagall nodded. ''Thank you. Shortly you will be sorted into one of four houses,'' she addressed the new students. ''There are no better or worse houses – each of them is equal. Each of them helps its members hone their skills and improve the best of their qualities. You should remember to remain loyal to your house – it will be like a family to you while you are away from your homes. However, that doesn't mean you should be disrespectful towards other houses. Other houses are not your enemies. Our school is one big community divided into four houses. I think it's the wisdom we all regretfully have forgotten. Furthermore, do not put your house above the school – if you see something wrong happening in your house, report it to your prefects or the head of your house,'' she got up, approached the podium at which the Sorting Hat was placed and unrolled the list of new students. ''Now the sorting ceremony shall begin. Drusilla Axley,'' she read out.

''Probably her parents changed their last name from Yaxley,'' Ron huffed. ''Cowards who want to hide their relation with Death Eaters.''

The girl sat on a stool with a scared expression. ''Hafflepuff!'' the Sorting Hat decided, gaining its an applause from Hafflepuff's table.

''Now, that's a surprise,'' Ron said drily.

After what felt like an eternity (filled with cheers from each of the tables), the line of newcomers emptied out and the Headmistress read out the final name. ''Tycho Zabini.''

''It's probably Zabini's brother,'' Ron scoffed.

Ginny shrugged. ''Or cousin.''

''Slytherin!'' the Sorting Hat announced.

Harry could see the hunger in Ron's eyes. Unfortunately for his friend now was the time for the Headmistress' speech as McGonagall took her place behind the Headmaster's podium. ''Once again, welcome! Now that everyone has their house, it is the right time to introduce our old staff members to new students and welcome new staff members. Please welcome Jocasta O'Cathail, new professor of Defense Against Dark Arts and new head of the Gryffindor house. Professor O'Cathail has a great knowledge of the subject as a retired Auror.''

Gryffindors cheered for their new head, or at least made a strong attempt at it. The majority seemed caught off guard by the discovery that the recently appointed Headmistress wasn't going act as their head anymore, even though it was rather expected. Harry's and Ron's dissatisfaction could by only matched by the sour look on Snape's face that he once again was missing his favourite post. McGonagall was strict, but during all those years she'd gained the trio's respect. In Harry's case the respect he had for her was strangely not away from something that could be called a respect towards mentor figure, he realised shocked.

''I am most pleased to announce Professor Snape is returning to teach Potions this year and resumes his position of the head of Slytherin,'' the Headmistress turned around and encouragingly smirked at her colleague and then quickly turned her scrutinising towards her students. Apparently not everyone was as pleased as Minerva McGonagall. Booing was audible in the Great Hall. While Slytherins appeared unusually quiet through the entirety of the feast, Gryffindors didn't shy away from voicing their opinion about their Potions Master. Harry noticed Dennis Creevey was especially vocal and was there any food on the table, he would have thrown it at younger Gryffindor to make him shut up. Some of Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs weren't ecstatic to hear about Snape's return as well, but to significantly smaller degree than the Gryffindors. Harry couldn't recall being so ashamed by his house' behaviour. Sure, Snape was a git and a mean teacher, but he was also a hero! Shouldn't Gryffindors, famed for their bravery, appreciate that? Sensing her boyfriend's agitation, Ginny squeezed his hand.

''Professor Flitwick is our Charms professor and the head of Ravenclaw house. Professor Sprout, the head of Hufflepuff house, is going to teach Herbology.'' Then McGonagall introduced other professors, starting with Hagrid. ''Due to the recent events I also continue to teach the subject of Transmutation. I do sincerely hope the next time we meet on the 1^st of September, a competent witch or wizard is going to take over the duties of the Transmutation professor. Before we focus on meals prepared by our hard-working house elves, I have one more announcement to make and I expect you to listen closely,'' she demanded. ''The east wing of the castle remains closed since it is under reconstruction. No student is allowed to enter the construction site, from inside or outside of the castle, unless otherwise ordered by a teacher. And last but not least: enjoy the feast!'' she waved her wand and the dishes appeared on the tables.

Hermione slowly took a bowl of mashed potatoes and cast Ron a judging glance as he was eating two chicken legs at once. ''Wha? 'm 'ungry,'' Ron said with his mouth full of food.

Ginny looked at her brother and then at her boyfriend, whose hands were already covered in chicken grease. She took a bowl from Hermione and sighed theatrically. ''Men, I am right?''

Following the feast Ginny returned to the Gryffindor common room and the trio went to meet Hagrid. The four large cups indicated the half-giant was expecting them.

''Harry! Hermione! Ron!'' Hagrid opened up his arms to welcome the teenagers. ''How I missed yeh!''

Harry smiled brightly and the trio embraced the professor of Care of Magical Creatures. ''We missed you too,'' he assured.

''I was afraid yeh were goin' ter skip yer last year. I wouldn' blame yeh, but- well. It wouldn' be the same without yeh,'' Hagrid sniffed. ''Yeh gonna leave soon anyway.''

Hermione patted his forearm, not being able to pat his shoulder. ''Oh, Hagrid, we still have entire school year ahead of us.''

''Yes! And we will be sending you owls once we graduate,'' Ron offered.

Hagrid wiped his eyes. ''Yeh promise?''

''Of course, Hargid!'' Harry said softly.

''Fang, Fang!'' Ron tried to calm down the dog who was busy licking his face. ''Hagrid, tell him to leave me alone,'' he begged.

''Ah, poor Fang missed yeh too!'' Hagrid exhaled deeply and sat down. ''Yeh right, I'm an old fool.'' Then he turned around and opened a drawer in a counter behind the table. ''I've got somethin' ter celebrate our meetin','' he put on the table a bottle of some beverage. Then he looked at his dog, who now decided to lick Hermione. ''Fang, leave us alone.''

Hermione produced a handkerchief and wiped away dog's saliva from her face. Then she looked at the golden-coppery liquid. ''Is that-? Is that firewhisky?'' she asked warily.

''Sure it is!'' Hagrid puffed out his chest proudly. ''I kept it fer a special occassion!''

''Do you really think it's a good idea?'' she questioned.

Ron made a face. ''Hermione, don't be so stiff! We are adults.''

''Nevertheless, we shouldn't be drinking alcohol within school ground. It's against the rules!'' Hermione exclaimed.

''Yeh with me and I'm yer teacher. It's fine!'' Hagrid assured.

''Technically you are not our teacher-'' Hermione said.

Harry interrupted her. Hagrid had been deeply hurt when they decided not to take his subject and Harry didn't want to open up old wounds. ''I mean, Hagrid's got a point. Slughorn offered me and Ron some mead or wine-''

''And it was poisoned!'' Hermione reminded.

Hagrid made an offended face. ''Do yeh really think I'd give yeh poisoned firewhisky, Hermione?''

''No,'' Hermione shook her head sheepishly.

Hagrid uncorked the bottle and poured the drink into four large cups. The largest portion he poured into his own cup, naturally. They sipped the firewhisky and talked about various matters, reminiscing about the crazy adventured they'd had.

''Harry, yeh so quiet,'' Hagrid hiccupped.

The boy in glasses swirled his firewhisky in the large cup, watching its movement. He got caught up in the memory of tonight's Welcoming Feast. His fellow Gryffindors' behaviour made him want to curl up and die. Not to mention Snape boring his eyes into him the entire feast. Apparently Snape's view of Harry hasn't changed that much. He thought with a dread about the upcoming Potions classes.

''Harry?'' Ron asked, bringing Harry's thoughts back to earth.

Harry blinked and took a sip of firewhisky. ''Sorry. I'm just tired, I guess.''

Chapter Text

The crowd of unruly teenagers didn't seem too overjoyed to hear Severus was returning as their teacher. Good. It meant at least some matters were returning to normality. The constant flattery he's been receiving from his colleagues for the last four months was driving him crazy.

Taking into account the current state of affairs, he was aware guardianship over his Slytherins would be even more difficult this year – many of their parents were Death Eaters and Severus had betrayed them. Another thing was the rivalry between the houses. Severus' keen eyes required only few minutes to notice the rivalry has turned into enmity towards Slytherins. Naturally, he wasn't surprised with the turn of events, nevertheless, he added to his mental list a note to discuss the matter with the Headmistress. Antagonising one of the houses would do anyone no good.

As for new recruits of Hogwarts' houses, Severus was mildly interested in the Sorting Ceremony. The queue of young wizards and witches anxiously waiting for their turn and Sorting Hat's verdict was the same every year. The joy or disappointment on kids' faces were similar too. He had experienced the feeling as well, when the Hat had separated him from Lily. He chose not to dwell on what could have been had the Hat decided otherwise, even though Dumbledore's statement that maybe young witches and wizards were sorted too soon echoed in his mind.

The Sorting Ceremony reminded him of the moment he had seen The-Boy-Who-Lived for the first time. The brat had been naturally sorted into Gryffindor. A rather obvious choice – both of his parents were Gryffindors. The Sorting Hat had a tendency of sorting whole families into the same house. The Weasleys traditionally were Gryffindors, while Blacks and Malfoys were Slytherins. Sometimes, however, the mad Hat seemingly decided onto pranking everyone by dividing families. Those decisions often had a tragic ending. Maybe Hogwarts would have been a better place without sorting students into houses based on their alleged qualities according to a verdict of an ancient hat.

Severus recalled the memory he had seen during an Occlumency lesson. The memory of the Sorting Hat suggesting that Potter could have been sorted into Slytherin. Severus was relieved the Hat had been talked out of making that decision. However, the memory made him question whether the Sorting Hat could be aware of his and Potter's possible blood relation. Had the Hat considered putting the brat into Slytherin based upon Severus' own alignment? Or maybe it had felt the piece of Dark Lord's soul within the boy?

And when it came to brat... Severus observed the teenager attentively. He has watched the boy for the last seven years. It was unlikely he had missed something that could affirm what he had seen in the spilled potion. Despite that, he had to try.

---

Wednesday started with Charms. Harry had thought sixth year was a torture. Now he had re-evaluate his statement – it was only the first week of the new school year and he was already questioning if he would be able to survive it. What was even worse, his classmates were giving him expectant looks during classes. He's only achieved an Exceeds Expectations in Charms. Hermione was way better, why was everyone looking at him as if he had acquired some ancient knowledge?

Frankly, they weren't his classmates, but Ginny's. His classmates had known his strengths and weaknesses, and during so many years spent with Harry, they had noticed The-Boy-Who-Lived wasn't the top student. Unfortunately, Harry's classmates, except for Ron and Hermione, had already graduated and he was left with a mixed group of Gryffindors and Slytherins who expected of him some miraculous deeds when he was failing at casting the Anti-Alohomora charm. Alohomora was so much easier than the charm to prevent it.

Hermione nailed the charm on her second try, which came as a surprise to no one. Meanwhile, Ron on his third attempt at the charm accidentally sent the lock flying across the classroom, making it hit professor Flitwick's forehead. The whole classroom fell silent for a moment, but as it quickly turned out their teacher was fine, started laughing.

During the break after the Charms, Damelza Robbins apprehended him as he was climbing the ever-changing stairs. ''Harry! What a surprise! We all thought you wouldn't be returning to Hogwarts,'' she smiled.

''Yeah, I'm surprised too, but Hermione made me finish my education,'' he joked.

''Oh, she's here too?''

Harry nodded. ''And Ron.''

''Cool!'' Damelza clapped. ''So, you'll be rejoining our Quidditch team?''

Harry smiled brightly. ''I'd love to! Ron too, I'm sure. Is trainings' date set?''

''Yes, Ginny wants them on Friday afternoon. She said she was done with getting up at 5 A.M. for trainings,'' she laughed.

Harry forrowed his eyebrows. ''Ginny?''

Damelza blinked and then covered her mouth with her hand, half-startled, half trying to surpress her laughter. ''What, you don't know? I thought she told you! She's your girlfriend, right?''

''Yes, so what?''

''Ginny's our new captain!''

Harry didn't know what to say. ''That's great, but-uh...''.

''Oh, don't be offended. We didn't know you'd be returning. We didn't have a captain last year, because, well, you know, Quidditch was banned and you weren't here, anyway. We had to choose someone.''

Harry bit his lips. ''Right. I'll let Ron know about the training.''

However Ron wasn't the first person he wanted to see. He rushed towards the terrace, where he spotted his friends and girlfriend sitting under a tree.

''Why you didn't tell me?'' he stared angrily at Ginny.

Ginny furrowed her eyebrows. ''Tell you what?''

''That you were assigned a new captain of our Quidditch team?'' Harry sat next to her.

Ron burst out laughing. ''Ginny? A captain?''

Ginny crossed her arms. ''And what is so funny about it? Maybe you try being a captain? Do you think I'm not suitable for the job?''

Hermione rolled her eyes. ''Oh, Ron, you can be so narrow-minded.''

''It's not that,'' he raised his arms in a mock-surrender. ''But we've got Harry and he was the captain!''

''Look, Harry,'' Ginny softened her voice. ''I didn't know how to tell you. They asked me like a week ago via owl mail and I couldn't really say 'no'. I wanted to tell you, but...'' she sighed. ''I know it's a touchy subject to you. We could make new arrangements and make you the captain. But I really want that, you know?'' she added somewhat embarrassed.

Harry had the decency to feel awkward. ''It's not that. I'm happy for you and I'm sure you'd make a wonderful captain.''

''Really?'' Ginny's eyes lit up. ''I'm so sorry. I feel so stupid right now.''

''As you should,'' Ron theatrically whispered.

''Ronald!'' Hermione hissed, not too strongly hitting his head with her Ancient Runes book.

''Really. But maybe tell me next time, OK?'' Harry said and Ginny curled into his side.

''Ron, we've got training on Friday, 5 P.M. Don't be late,'' she warned her brother.

After the break they headed for the green house for Herbology classes. Professor Sprout welcomed them with a bright smile on her good-hearted plump face. ''It's heart-warming to see all of you back at school after the last trying year. I'm so happy to see some old faces return for their final year of magical education,'' her eyes sparkled at the corners as she looked at the trio. ''Now,'' she put a pot with a flower on the table and cleaned her hands against her dirty robe. ''Today we'll be covering asphodel. Who can tell us something about the plant?''

Harry looked at the flower. It seemed so delicate. The broken white petals gave it some otherwordly aura. He wished Neville was here – Herbology was Neville's favourite subject, after all.

Hermione's arm shoot up in the air. ''Yes, Ms. Granger?''

Hermione took a deep breath. ''Asphodel used to be included in the lily family, but currently it is considered a lily's relative. Ancient Greeks associated it with Persephone and therefore with the underworld, death and mourning. The connection was not only coined by muggles as asphodel is an ingredient for the Draught of the Living Death.''

''Excellent, Ms. Granger! Five points to Gryffindor!'' professor Sprout smiled. ''I shouldn't probably tell you this, it's rude to gossip about your colleagues, but well,'' she waved her hand dismissively. ''I have you know it also happens to be one of favourite potion ingredients of professor Snape. Now, take a pot with an asphodel.''

Carring the pot to his spot at the table, Harry pondered on what he'd heard. Now it made sense why Snape had asked him about ingredients for the Draught of the Living Death during his very first Potions classes. If asphodel was his favourite ingredient, then probably the Draught of the Living Death was his favourite potion. Which made sense, considering Snape had improved the recipe in his copy of Potions handbook.

''Oi!'' Ron barked at him. ''You're gonna make me trip!''

Harry looked down and saw his foot on the edge of Ron's robe. ''Sorry,'' he ducked his head.

Harry put down the pot on the table and caressed the petal of the flower. It was soft. Indeed, the flower looked like a lily. He wondered why it was no longer thought to be a lily, only a mere relative. It didn't look like a typical lily, alright, but since it had magical use, maybe it was some kind of magical lily that was common enough to reach muggle settlements? And then he gasped in realisation.

''What is it, Harry?'' Ginny looked at him questioningly, maybe even slightly concerned.

Harry sent her a weak smile. ''No, nothing. I just remembered something. It's not important, anyway.'' If asphodel was a type of lily or its relative, did Snape like it so much, because it reminded him of Harry's mum? The thought brought a pang of sadness to his chest.

''Asphodel has many uses. Not only its root is a valuable ingredient. Petals, leaves and even stalks can be found in various potions. Today we will learn how to extract a root of asphodel,'' professor Sprout went on, ignorant to Harry's unexpected epiphany.

Harry looked hesitantly at the flower. To extract its root meant to kill it. For the first time since his very first Herbology he felt sorry he had to massacre a plant. It was sad all beauty was apparently ephemeral. He felt quite ridiculous having second thoughts about cutting a plant. It was only a plant, it couldn't feel pain! He had fed Hagrid's creatures with living animals, for crying out loud. He closed his eyes and with a grimace on his face cut off of flower part of the plant. Hermione had no such reservations, dutifully sectioning the plant.

On Thursday they had their first DADA with professor O'Cathail. The woman looked sternly at Harry and Ron arriving maybe three minutes late to the classes. ''You might be thinking you've learnt everything there is to learn from your Defence Against the Dark Arts curriculum. You have fought during the battle of Hogwarts, after all. You are mistaken,'' she said in a monotonous voice. ''During this year you will learn spells you wish you knew during the battle. Luckily, since it's your last year, you don't have to concern yourself with the question if I'll live to teach you the following year. Yes, I am aware you've had different teacher of this subject each year. I am also aware the level presented by them was somewhat... uneven. I have discussed with professor Snape the matters you were covering two years ago when he was teaching the subject. He informed me of the shortcomings of some of my predecessors.''

Frankly, Harry wasn't too thrilled with professor O'Cathail's teaching method. He'd expected more action from a former Auror. However, it seemed that the elderly woman enjoyed lenghty monologues on the matter of spells and counterspells, giving plenty of background information on their inventors. She was also very strict about the time when the classes should begin and not so strict about the time when it should end, as she prolonged her classes by nearly ten minutes.

The awareness this woman was their current Head of the house was dreadful. Professor McGonagall was strict as well, but she had a particular charm to it.

The Friday afternoon was wholly dedicated to Quidditch by Ginny, Harry and Ron to Hermione's dismay. The bookworm insisted on reminding them they had one eight-inch, three ten-inch and one twelve-inch papers to write. However, they had much more urgent matter to attend – the team was missing a chaser.

The queue of young Gryffindors willing to join their team was long. Maybe the abnormal interest in Quidditch, which usually was high, was a way to forget about the war and losses? Or maybe students missed Quidditch after a year-long ban? Either way, they had to test all of the participants.

The first one to try was a scrawny dark-skinned boy. He couldn't be older than fourteen. He could fly fast but cooperation with his fellow chasers wasn't his forte. He threw the Quaffle in such a way, no one knew if it was intended for Ginny or for Damelza to catch.

There was a bunch of second-years Harry hasn't seen before. They looked so fragile Harry was afraid a poorly thrown Quaffle could damage their faces. That made him wonder why the hell anyone had allowed him to join the team when he had been eleven. For eighteen-year old Harry the idea seemed reckless.

A third-year girl would have broken her neck if not for the cushioning charm cast by Ginny.

It was past 8 P.M. when they finished auditioning the volunteers. Harry just felt like falling flat to the soft grass.

''And what do you think?'' Ginny approached Harry.

''That blonde was pretty good,'' he tilted his head towards a sixth-year guy sitting on the gallery.

''I liked that girl,'' she nodded towards a fifth-year student of Asian descent.

''Her?'' Harry frowned. ''She's got a lot to learn.''

''Yes, but she's got potential. I think we should give her a chance,'' Ginny shrugged.

''Based on what?'' Ron interrupted the couple. ''We're not kindergarden. We've got a season to win!''

''Uuuh,'' Ginny sighed tiredly. ''I'm gonna ask the rest,'' she left and joined Damelza, who was talking with Ritchie Coote.

Ron eyed his sister suspiciously. ''What's up with her?'' he whispered and Harry shrugged in response. In truth, he had to admit he saw the potential in that girl too, but she reminded him too much of Cho, not that he could admit it to Ginny.

After few minutes Ginny waived at Harry and Ron to join the rest of the team. ''Guys, meet Lan Nga Anh, our new chaser.''

The girl awkwardly tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear. ''Just Lan is fine.''

''Lan, this is Harry,'' Ginny pointed at Harry. ''My boyfriend. And this is Ron, my annoying brother,'' she glanced at Ron.

''Hi! Nice to meet you,'' Lan smiled.

Weekend has ended too soon, as weekends tend to do. On Monday the dreaded double Potions finally arrived. The snarky Potions Master energetically walked in with his hands clasped behind his back and his black robes billowing behind him. ''This is your final year. I hope there is no need to remind you of your goal, which is achieving your Potions N.E.W.T. I can reasonably assume if it were not the case you would not be here,'' he turned around to face the class. ''Normally, I would have informed you I would be most disappointed if you achieved anything below 'Outstanding', as this is the proficiency I expect from my N.E.W.T.-level students. Regretfully, we are not operating in the standard circumstances. As you might be aware, some of you would not had qualified for this course had I taught you Potions all this time,'' his gaze landed on Ron and Harry. ''However, the Headmistress persuaded me to uphold professor Slughorn's abysmal criteria for one more year and therefore accept anyone who had reached at least 'Exceeds Expectations' at their Ordinary Wizarding Level.''

Ron leant to the left and whispered into Harry's ear. ''That scar is awful! I didn't get the chance to get a close look at it during the trial or the feast.''

Harry was about to argue that it was obvious the scar that was a result of skin having been torn not by a mere snake but by Nagini herself wouldn't have healed nicely, but Snape spoke instead. ''Ah, yes,'' he said unamused. ''The fearsome day that I have to deal with two Weasleys in one classroom once again has arrived. Weasley,'' he hissed nearly in a sing-song. ''Do you have anything to share with the classroom? And if you need clarification, the question is meant for you, Ronald Weasley, not for your sister.''

Ron's face turned almost as red as his hair. ''No, sir,'' he swallowed.

''Then keep your thoughts to yourself. And if they are so important and you are afraid they will slip your mind, write them down for later,'' Snape said flatly. Then he turned around and started noting down the recipe for a potion on the blackboard.

Harry was determined to fully focus on the potion. He glanced at Hermione, whose potion gained pale greenish colour as instructed in point 3. Meanwhile his own had a strange shade of purple-dark blue, which was still better than Ron's, he supposed, as his friend's potion was swampy brown. Ginny's potion gained pretty, yet completely incorrect turquoise colour.

Back in the day, Malfoy would have already made fun of Harry's potion, prompting all the Slytherins to laugh at him. But Draco wasn't here – he was sitting in the Malfoy manor, serving his house arrest. Snape, on the other hand, was very much present and able to make a snarky comment about Harry's skills. However, Snape simply sat behind his desk, crossed his arms and observed.

Similarly to the Welcoming Feast, Harry had a feeling Potions Master's black irises were trying to pierce through Harry's very soul, which, frankly, didn't make the task of brewing the potion any easier. Still, to Harry's surprise the man made no comment, even when he got up ten minutes before the end of the lesson to inspect his students' cauldrons. Walking past Harry's pitiful attempt at the potion, Snape only grimaced and kept walking.

As Harry was putting the potion Snape's desk, he was fully convinced it was going to end like it had after Harry had seen Snape's worst memory. To his greatest surprise Snape slightly raised an eyebrow upon seeing the result. Harry knew the potion was awful and by all means Snape had the right to laugh at it or make a comment out loud, like he had so many times. But he didn't. He didn't even knock over the potion, like he had after Harry had looked into the Pensieve with Snape's memories. And in a way that was much more frightening and eerie than any insult he had received from the teacher.

Chapter Text

The first lesson of Potions confirmed Severus' assumption – Potter hadn't learnt a thing during his year with Horace Slughorn as his teacher. And if he miraculously had, he apparently had already forgotten everything during his escapade. The brat had owned Severus' copy of Advanced Potion-Making for almost a year and the only thing he remembered from the reading was damned Sectumsempra. Potter truly shouldn't be allowed to take a N.E.W.T.-level Potions course. But then, if he wasn't allowed, Severus wouldn't have such an easy access to the boy.

Severus introduced his students to a new potion during the next lesson. ''Today we are going to cover an extremely advanced potion – Veritarevelans,'' he spoke calmly walking across the classroom. ''It is a potion of Veritae kind, which consist of Veritaserum and Veritavisus. While Veritaserum, commonly called a truth potion, which you covered last year, forces the drinker to answer any and all questions truthfully, and Veritavisus grants the drinker a true vision, therefore the ability to see through the majority of concealing charms, Veritarevelans is a liquid verity indicator. Once a sample of examined material is dropped into the potion, Veritarevelans accordingly changes its colour. Unlike other Veritae potions, the secret to Veritarevelans potency lies not in the time of its maturing but the accuracy of preparation of ingredients and the stirring pattern.'' He stopped to look at the class. As usually, some students were fascinated, while other were already counting minutes until the double Potions ended. This year, however, there was a new addition to the mix of students' reactions – brats pretending they weren't staring at the scar on his neck.

Severus was well aware he never could have been called handsome or in any measure attractive. In his teenhood his greasy hair, large nose and crooked teeth had been reasons behind his innermost complex. As an adult wizard he could find a potion or spell to improve his hair condition or straighten his teeth, but as he had matured, he had stopped caring about his looks. When he started teaching his disagreeable appearance actually came in handy – brats were even more scared of him, which helped Severus to keep those dunderheads disciplined. And if the price for that were not so sophisticated jokes about his hair, like the ones made on Potterwatch, so be it.

Naturally, during his reign as the Headmaster Severus had been aware of the existence of the radio programme and listened to it from time to time to get an update on Potter's progress. Passwords had been childishly easy and Severus had been utterly disappointed in Kingsley Shacklebolt having chosen a 'Royal' for his codename. The spy hadn't been surprised Jordan and Lupin hadn't been clever about their own codenames, but he had expected better from the Auror. All in all, those idiots who had thought they had been a serious a resistance should have been glad high rank Death Eaters had had more important matters on their minds and low rank Death Eaters had been too stupid to figure the password system out.

Severus closed his eyes and waited two seconds before opening them again. He was greeted by a sight he'd expected to see – Hermione Granger's raised hand. He ignored her, making girl's expression grow even more determined. Instead, he turned his attention to raised hand of one of his Slytherins. ''Yes, Brownleek?''

''Professor, couldn't a Sneakoscope be used instead?'' teenager asked.

Snape eyed him judgingly. ''Brownleek, do you own a Sneakoscope?''

Student lowered her head embarrassed. ''No, sir.''

''Neither do I,'' Severus spoke calmly. ''Sneakoscopes can be manipulated by a skilled wizard. Meanwhile, I have not met a wizard capable of deceiving Veritarevelans yet.''

Granger waved her raised hand, nearly jumping in her seat, not able to contain herself. Severus turned around and started noting down the recipe for the potion on the blackboard. Only when he was done, he decided to pay attention to the girl. He knew what she was going to say. Out of the merry group of Potter's friends without any doubt she had the most brains, but she could be painfully predictable. ''What is it, Granger?''

The relief on girl's face was even more annoying than her raised hand. ''Professor, Veritarevelans isn't part of our curriculum.''

''A cunning observation, Granger,'' Severus deadpanned. ''However, I highly doubt anyone can deny the usefulness of the potion, especially considering the events of last few years.''

''Well, maybe if anyone had used the potion, a Death Eater wouldn't have been allowed to teach us!'' one of Gryffindors yelled.

Severus' face took the most strict and vile expression it could take. His eyes narrowed hatefully. In the corners of his vision he saw Potter and Granger turning pale, Ronald Weasley's shocked expression, his sister trying to hide under the desk and Slytherins covering their mouth – some making poor attempts at hiding their smirks, some in horror. ''Purflor, twenty points from Gryffindor!'' he hissed spitefully. ''Now leave the classroom and head for the Headmistress' office. I am sure she is going to be overjoyed to hear of an outstanding bravery of one of her Gryffindors,'' his voice was venomously laced with sarcasm.

Eusebius Purflor got up with a loud creak of his chair. ''Murderer!'' he called as he opened the door, which he closed with a loud slam.

''Thirty points from Gryffindor!'' Severus called, sure the student heard it through the closed door. ''Well, well, Gryffindors are going for the record this year, I see. And I thought nothing worse could happen to that house than the Weasley twins.'' As he spoke it, Ronald Weasley glared at him hatefully and Ginevra Weasley looked away with anger flickering in her eyes, but none of them said anything.

As the double Potions' end was nearing, Severus took a walk around the classroom to examine the results. The potion was difficult, so he wasn't surprised only Granger and one of his Slytherins were able to achieve a correct outcome. ''Stash your potions away – you are going to finish them next week. For next classes I want you to prepare an eleven-inch paper on Veritarevelans,'' he announced as students were reading to leave the classroom. Soon the noise of chairs creaking against the floorboard and teenagers' chatter filled the space. ''Potter, you stay,'' Severus ordered firmly.

The boy looked longingly at his friends, who waved at him and assured him they were going to catch him later, and sighed tiredly, dropping his rucksack to the floor.

''I want you to brew Veritarevelans again. This time correctly,'' Severus looked in the green eyes, so similar to hers.

Harry glanced at his cauldron and then at his teacher. ''Uh, it's not ready yet, sir,'' he wrinkled his nose.

''An astute observation, Potter,'' Severus said flatly. ''However, as an experienced Potions Master I can already tell the only purpose your potion can serve is being thrown away.''

''What for? Like Hermione said, it's not in our curriculum, sir,'' the boy furrowed his eyebrows.

''Because I ask you to, Potter,'' Severus said harshly. He didn't have the patience for this brat.

''But, sir, I've got Transfiguration!'' the brat protested.

Severus clasped his hands. ''From what I have gathered next classes in seventh year Gryffindor-Slytherin schedule are Divination, followed by Arithmancy. As far as I am concerned you are not attending any of these courses. Therefore your break before Transmutation is long enough for you to brew another potion and arrive on time for your next classes. However, I am amenable and can offer you Friday, 4 P.M. instead.''

''We've got Quidditch on Friday afternoons!'' Gryffindor had the audacity to clench his fists. ''Sir.''

''Then make a choice. Just don't make me wait for too long, Potter,'' the Potions Master urged.

Potter clenched and unclenched his fists several times. ''I-I'll do it now.''

''Very well. You know what to do, I assume.''

Severus stood in front of the boy's desk with his arms crossed. He watched him cut and grind ingredients. He arched his eyebrow, looking expectantly at the boy as he was rasing his hand to add a pinch of powdered unicorn horn, making the boy to retreat his hand and grab shredded lebbage leaf instead. Severus slightly nodded. The boy stirred three times to the left and his hand hesitated.

''What do you think you are doing, Potter?''

''Um, stirring, sir?'' Potter looked somewhat confused at his teacher.

''And how do you stir now?'' Severus asked mockingly.

''Uh, right?'' the boy started looking around as if it could help him in any way.

Severus sighted tiredly and pinched the bridge of his nose. ''Sweet Merlin... No! Straight up through the centre of the cauldron!''

Potter's shoulders sagged. ''Sorry, sir, it's just stressful when you're observing me all the time!''

''Stressful, Potter?'' Severus took a step towards his student. ''You are aspiring to make a career in one of the most stressful professions there are and you are telling me my presence is too stressful for you? Let me tell you, Potter, why Aurors are expected to demonstrate proficiency in Potioneering. Potions like Veritarevelans are Aurors' bread-and-butter. Think about your life or someone's life depending on your expertise in the area of potions. What if you can't recognise a potion on time? What if you can't come up with an antitode on time? I can assure you such an eventuality is going to be immeasurably more stressful.''

The-Boy-Who-Lived gulped. ''Yes, I suppose you are right, sir.''

''I am glad we are on the same page,'' Severus said drily. ''Now return to Veritarevelans.''

Once the boy was done, the liquid inside his cauldron was colourless.

''Now put it away for the next week,'' Severus commanded.

''May I go now?'' Potter asked unusually meekly for himself.

''Yes, you may,'' Severus huffed. ''Don't forget about your assignment, Potter!'' he added.

---

Harry was running out of breath, but managed to arrive on time for his Transmutation classes.

''What took you so long, mate?'' Ron jabbed Harry with his elbow as he joined them in front of the Transmutation classroom.

''Snape. He wanted me to brew the potion again,'' Harry huffed.

''Why?'' Ginny rolled her eyes. ''It couldn't have been worse than Ron's.''

''Hey!'' Ron protested, but he couldn't argue further as McGonagall opened the door.

''Take your sits,'' Headmistress ordered without further ado. ''Today we begin your final year of the Transfiguration course. It is going to be even more challenging than your the sixth year. In late may you are going to take an exam that is going to shape your future. As your Headmistress I expect the highest marks from you. All of you,'' she threateningly pointed her wand at her students. ''Both Gryffindors and Slytherins. Now, open your books on page five. Today we will focus on transfiguring toads into toadstools.''

The task was much more difficult than at first seemed. Of course Hermione's toad turned into an exemplary toadstool that stood still and made no sound.

Ron and Harry exchanged looks, recalling Hermione's mushroom-based cusine during their escapade and cringing at the memory of the taste, got to work.

A bubble appeared underneath skin on Ginny's transfigured mushroom's cap. It quickly expanded and collapsed, producing a toad-like croak. Meanwhile Harry's toadstool was jumping around his desk and Ron's mushroom caught a fly with a tongue.

Back in the Gryffindor common room Ron was begging Hermione to let him copy her Charms assignment.

''You would have your paper done if you hadn't spent the whole weekend lazing!'' she exclaimed.

Ron stared puppy-eyed at her. ''Hermione, please! Weekend is meant for resting!''

Hermione barked out a laughter, clearly in disagreement regarding that statement. ''Then you had Friday.''

''We have Quidditch on Fridays!'' Ron protested.

Hermione put the book she was reading on the arm chair. ''Well, maybe you should focus on your priorities instead of wasting your time,'' she bit back.

''Quidditch isn't a waste of time,'' this time it was Ginny's turn to voice her objection.

Hermione leant back against the backrest of the arm chair and picked up the book again. ''If you say so...'' she turned a page.

''You can take mine,'' Harry offered to avoid another squabble.

Ron sighed relieved. ''Thanks, mate. You're a life-saver.''

A rustle of paper resonated in the air. ''There will be days there will be no one to make your job for you, Ron,'' Hermione said in a voice that suggested she wasn't paying attention to the conversation.

---

Severus dedicated the next double Potions with seventh year Slytherins and Gryffindors to making sure Potter didn't ruin Veritarevelans once again.

''Lets put the result of your efforts to test. Drop your hair into the potion,'' Severus ordered. Potter looked at him warily, but upon noticing Potions Master's mind was set, he pulled out a single hair and dropped it into the cauldron. The liquid bubbled as if it was boiling and changed its colour to bright green. Meanwhile contents of Ronald Weasley's cauldron bubbled furiously and spilled on the desk.

''Weasley, I think it means you are a fraud!'' one of Slytherins called.

Severus spotted few students dropping each others' hair into each others' cauldrons, laughing about results, sometimes quite explosive.

''Acceptable,'' Severus said flatly, looking at Potter's outcome, pretending he was less interested in the content of Potter's cauldron than he really was. Now he knew the boy's phenotype wasn't forged by some advanced disguise charm. How could the boy he his when he looked like a copy of James Potter? However, one examination wasn't enough. While Veritarevelans presented arguments for the thesis of the Bloodline potion being faulty, it didn't completely rule out the possibility of it being accurate. Severus needed to conduct further research.

''Potter, stay,'' Severus intertwined his fingers and rested them agaist his abdomen. He waited until the only people in the classroom were him and the child he might have fathered. ''I have an offer to make. As I am afraid the Auror department in its current state is not going to resist the temptation of welcoming the saviour of the wizardkind, inspite of his dire lack of mastery in potions, I will give you private Potions lessons, so that you don't get yourself killed during the first year of Auror training. Lessons will take place in this classroom on Friday 4 P.M.''

''I've told you, sir, I've got Quidditch on Fridays!'' Potter reminded.

''Well, maybe you should consider professional Quidditch player career instead, in that case,'' Severus said unamused.

The brat scratched the back of his neck. ''Do you have to give you the answer now?''

''So you do require more time to make a decision that could potentially impact the rest of your life?'' Severus arched an eyebrow. ''A reasonable request. Alright, I will give you the time to consider your answer. I want to learn about your decision by Thursday, am I clear, Potter?''

''As day, sir,'' the boy nodded.

---

Harry joined his friends on their way to terrace about fifteen minutes later. His hair was absolutely disheveled from running.

''What that boor wanted from you again?'' Ron nagged. ''Brew another warily-something?''

''Veritarevelans,'' Hermione corrected her boyfriend, fixing her grip on her books.

Ron snorted impatiently. ''I get why the truth serum is important, but the other veri-uh, something, potions are useless! You can use a Sneakoscope instead or something like Moody's mad eye and you don't have to waste your time on potions!''

Hermione eyed him judgingly. ''Have you done your assignment at all? These potions are nothing like a Sneakoscope!''

Ron stopped in his tracks to dramatically cross his arms. ''I have. And I would have done it better if you had let me use yours, Hermione!''

''That's my point! First you wanted to copy Charms, then Potions! If you put any effort into your homework you would have noticed Snape gave us an improved recipe. Normally it takes for Veritarevelans ten days to mature, not seven! I thought you'd like to know since you admired Half-Blood Prince' recipies so much.''

''Oh, great, Snape made shitty potion less shitty,'' Ron rolled his eyes. ''And still used it to torment Harry. I told you, Harry, you shouldn't have trusted the greasy bat.''

Harry shifted from one foot to another. ''Yeah, about that... Snape actually called me this time to offer me extra Potions lessons.'' Hermione gasped loudly.

Ron looked at his friend sceptically. ''Extra Potions as in 'Occlumency'?''

''No. Extra Potions as in extra potions.''

''Harry, that's wonderful!'' Hermione's face brightened at the thought of opportunities opening in front of Harry.

Ron wrinkled his nose as if something stinking appeared in front of him ''No, that's terrible.''

Seeing Ron's bewildered expression, Harry elaborated. ''He thinks I won't managed passing N.E.W.T. on my own. That I will be accepted into Auror training programme only because I defeated Voldemort.''

Ron waved his hand dismissively. ''Ignore the git.''

Hermione put his arm in front of Ron as if she was trying to stop him. ''Don't listen to Ron, Harry. Take the opportunity!''

Ginny glanced at Hermione. ''Do you think Harry won't manage on his own?''

''What? No! But getting help can't hurt. Face it, Harry, you are not exactly known for your expertise in Potions...''

''Come on, Hermione! I bet Tonks wasn't great at Potions either and she became an Auror without Snape's help,'' Ron pointed out.

''And what do you think, Ginny?'' Harry turned to face his girlfriend.

Ginny put her hand on his shoulder. ''I'm sure you will achieve your Potions N.E.W.T even without Snape's help. But if it will put your mind at ease, accept the offer.''

Harry looked down at his shoes. ''But he wants the lessons to take place on Friday afternoons. Even if I manage to leave early, I'll always be late for Quidditch.''

Ginny inhaled sharply. ''As the captain of Quidditch team I'd like to see you on trainings, but as your girlfriend I want the best for you. And only you can decide what is the best for you.''

Hermione protested. ''Are you mad? It's obvious Potions are more important right now!'' Harry hated Hermione's stance on Quidditch and Harry's career opportunities was so similar to Snape's.

''Hermione,'' Ron moaned, begging her to stop.

''Speaking of N.E.W.T.s,'' Ginny cleared her throat and changed the subject. ''Have you heard last year's seventh-years will be taking their exams in early October? It will be nice to see Neville again, won't it?''

''Oh, I wonder how Neville is doing,'' a dreamy voice spoke from behind Harry's back. The group stared at Luna, wondering how she got there unnoticed. Cherry earrings were dangling from her ears. ''You should be regretting not attending the Care of Magical Creatures,'' Luna suddenly spoke. ''Hagrid showed us Occamy last week. Interesting creatures, even if not as interesting as Crumple-Horned Snorkack.''

Hermione furrowed her eyebrows, but a glance from Ron stopped her from reminding their friend once more that Crumple-Horned Snorkack didn't exist.

---

Harry took a deep breath, trying to compose himself and knocked on the door of Snape's office.

''Come in,'' replied the silky voice.

Harry pressed the doorknob and cautiously moved his foot past the threshold.

''Potter,'' Snape, who was putting some ingredients on the shelves, turned around to face his student. ''You came here in regard to my recent offer, I presume?'' Harry nodded in response, earning a weary exhale from the teacher.

Oh, yes, Snape didn't like non-verbal signals, Harry recalled and cleared his throat. ''Yes, sir,'' he amended himself.

''And what your answer might be, Potter?'' former spy's voice was unusually... well, if it weren't Snape, Harry might have even called it friendly. Maybe Snape wanted to bury the hatched and move on?

''Well... um,'' Harry looked at Snape's shoulder to avoid looking him into eyes. Maybe he wouldn't notice he wasn't directly looking at him if Harry's gaze was focused on something so close to Snape's face. ''First of all, I wanted to thank you for your offer. I appreciate it, really, and the other thin-''

''Do not beat around the bush,'' Snape interrupted. ''I am afraid we don't have the time for that.''

Harry coughed to hide his embarrassment. ''Yes, right. So, uhm, I'm not taking extra Potions lessons, but as I said, I'm grateful for the offer, sir. I believe I can prepare for Potions N.E.W.T. on my own, like every other student.'' Seeing Snape's not entirely convinced expression, Harry went on. ''I assure you, I'll work harder on Potions and I'll be doing my assignments. Sir.''

''Is that your final word?'' Snape asked patiently, unsettlingly so.

''Yes,'' Harry nodded hesitantly, subconsciously awaiting an outburst from his teacher.

Snape sceptically eyed his student. ''I hope you are not going to regret your decision, Potter.'' Then he glared once more at currently silent teenager. ''Is there anything else you would like to tell me, Potter?''

Harry shook his head. ''No, sir.''

''Then you might leave,'' Snape voice was no longer welcoming.

Harry swallowed. ''Yes, um.'' He spun on his heel and headed for the exit, unaware of the Potions Master gritting his teeth behind his back.

---

As Harry was walking down the corridor, he felt someone bump into his shoulder, nearly making him drop his books. He turned around to see who walked into him and saw Dennis Creevey. ''Oh, sorry, Dennis, I haven't noticed you,'' he spoke conciliatorily.

''Not a problem,'' Dennis answered, but Harry heard the lack of sincerity of his voice. ''I knew you wouldn't notice me if you didn't bump into me.''

Harry looked at his fellow Gryffindor somewhat startled. ''I don't think I follow.''

''I know that. You've never paid attention to me or Colin. We were nuisance to you,'' Dennis sneered.

''What? No. Dennis, look, I know you are hurt, but-''

''But what?!'' the younger Gryffindor pushed him.

''Stop it,'' Harry was losing his patience. ''Dennis, stop it!'' he swatted away younger boy's hands as he trying to push him again.

''Or what?'' Dennis dared.

''What is your deal?!'' Harry yelled, finally losing it.

Younger boy was panting. ''Don't pretend you don't know! You had let Colin die and then you defended Death Eaters! Some saviour of the wizardkind you are!''

''What are you talking about? I've never asked anyone to die for me! McGonagall forbade students under seventeen from battling. It was his choice not to obey!'' Harry was deeply hurt by the accusation. Even more so that so many people had died because of him – some because they willingly sacrificed their lives, like his parents, some because they simply happened to be in wrong place, like Cedric. ''And I've never defended Death Eaters!''

''Oh, yeah, so witnessing in favour of Draco and Snape wasn't defending Death Eaters?'' Dennis mocked.

''Dumbledore wanted to spare Draco,'' Harry firmly pointed out. ''And I'm sure he wanted to spare Snape too. Besides, Snape isn't a Death Eater! He was found not guilty.''

''Suuure, because the Dark Mark appeared on his forearm out of nowhere,'' Dennis made a face. ''The Wizengamot was so convinced of his innocence that he won only because of three more votes in his favour. And now that Death Eater is walking free and teaching us instead of rotting away in Azkaban, thanks to you.''

''He was operating under Dumbledore's orders,'' Harry's grip on his books tightened.

''And you believe that, because he claims he loved your mum?'' Dennis snorted. ''If I were you, I'd be ashamed such a scumbag had any feelings for my mother.''

''Do not bring my mum into this!'' Harry warned. He wouldn't let anyone speak in such a way about his parents. How Dennis could suggest there was something vile in such a pure affection? Snape was a git, but he'd nearly lost his life due to his selfless need to honour Lily Potter. ''Leave me alone! Annoy the Wizengamot instead. It was them who made the decision. Besides, do I need to remind you Draco's was found guilty?''

''Sooo guilty he's spending only a year not even in Azbakan, but in his own home! And wait for this – his dad, a renowned Death Eater was sentenced to five years of house arrest and his mom three years of house arrest. It's a joke, not justice!'' Dennis threw his hands up.

''I wasn't even present during their trials, Dennis!'' Harry roared.

Dennis pushed Harry once more, this time strongly enough for Harry to lose his balance. ''Right, because the bloody saviour of the wizardkind isn't responsible for anything!''

''Get lost, Dennis!'' Ron arrived to his friend's rescue.

''You get lost, you Death Eaters' arse lickers!'' Dennis spat, breathing heavily.

Ron's face turned as red as his hair. ''You weren't the only person to lose your brother in the battle!'' he growled. ''I'm not blaming Harry for Fred! Stop blaming him for Colin! It was his choice!''

Harry blinked at Ron. It was the first time Ron acknowledged aloud Fred's death in such a way. Usually he just let the silence finish the unspoken sentence for him.

''What do we have here?'' the man clad in black had a thing for appearing unexpected, not having made a single sound. It probably came with the job of being a spy. Snape looked at Dennis preparing to punch Ron and then at Harry picking up his books. ''Wonderful. The Headmistress and professor O'Cathail will love to hear of this – three Gryffindors fighting in the corridor. Truly a pinnacle of Gryffindor bravery. Ten points from Gryffindor!'' Subsequently Snape's gaze landed once more on Harry. ''Potter,'' he hissed. ''Detention!''

''But-!'' Harry was about to protest, to point out it was Dennis who had started the fight, but then he looked briefly at Ron and then at his Potions Master. No, arguing would only infuriate Snape, who would probably impose the punishment on Ron as well. He huffed getting up and looked Snape angrily into his eyes. ''Yes, professor.''

''Friday, 4 P.M. Do not forget, Potter,'' Snape coldly warned.

Harry licked his teeth, glaring daggers at his teacher and at Dennis, who was smirking nastily and victoriously at him, as if he had made a point in the argument.

Chapter Text

''Severus, I think you impose detentions on Potter far too often,'' Minerva eyed her colleague sitting at her desk.

Severus straightened his back and put his hands behind it. ''Au contraire, Minerva. I think I am reasonable in imposing detentions on the brat. Maybe you are satisfied with his performance at Transmutation. Maybe he even excels at your subject. However, I can assure you he is utterly hopeless at Potions. If Potter hopes that he will be accepted into Auror training programme, he has to put more effort into my subject. I am simply trying to stop him from wasting his time on some childish antics.''

It was only a half of the truth – at first Severus had tried to teach Potions during detentions, but the brat was completely ignorant to what was told to him. Yes, Potter could be dense when it came to Potions, but at this point Severus believed he was doing it out of spite. So he had assigned the brat with cleaning jars and when Potter started 'accidentally' breaking them, with cleaning cauldrons.

The Headmistress put her elbows on her desk and intertwined her fingers. ''Should I assume then your current treatment of Potter is related to the incoming Gryffindor-Slytherin Quidditch match?'' she said it keeping a straight face, but the spark behind her glasses betrayed her amusement.

Severus only slightly raised an eyebrow at the suggestion. He felt bad about lying to his superior, especially considering what had happened in the previous few years. However, disclosing the truth behind his decision to stay and teach brats (specifically one Potter) simply wasn't an option. Even more so, taking into account Severus wasn't even sure if the brat actually was his own. And even if it turned out to be true, did he have the right to share the information with other people? Would Lily have wanted that?

When he had announced he had changed his mind about teaching under the pretence of needing time to adjust to the post-war life, he had told Minerva he would only return to the post of DADA teacher. Unfortunately, it had turned out even though he had been acquitted, the Ministry had deemed him too controversial to teach such a crucial subject. Post-war Hogwarts regretably was a subject to many restrictions and Minerva's power as the Headmistress wasn't as vast as it would be in normal circumstances. ''If it were up to me, I would have entrusted you with the subject,'' Minerva had told him. For the sake of the act, Severus had pretended it had been an absolutely essential part of the deal and he had only softened to take Potions instead under Minerva's pressure. Luckily the change in subjects taught by him hadn't hampered Severus main goal – the brat had to take Potions as well as DADA if he wanted to become an Auror.

As the DADA teacher the Ministry proposed a retired Auror, Jocasta O'Cathail, to which Minerva had agreed. ''I know Jocasta,'' she had told him when he heard about the new DADA teacher. ''She won't be anything like that toad.''

And now the retired Auror was standing next to him in the Headmistress' office.

''I guarantee my decision has nothing to do with that ridiculous activity. Frankly, I couldn't care less about Quidditch. Moreover, should I remind you I have never allowed a first-year to join my house' Quidditch team, unlike some of us?'' Severus pointed out.

''I agree with Minerva, Snape,'' O'Cathail said. ''As the head of Gryffindor I see no reasons why would you impose so many detentions on one of my students.''

Severus glanced at his new colleague from the corner of his eyes. ''I am not trying to prevent you from imposing punishments on my Slytherins and I would like to ask you not to prevent me on imposing them on your Gryffindors. Furthermore, Potter isn't the only student who receives this kind of treatment. I impose detentions on Gryffindors, Ravenclaws, Hufflepuffs and Slytherins alike,'' he said matter-of-factly, thinking of the sixth-year Slytherin who spat in his direction the previous week. The brat was doomed to cleaning cauldrons with his toothbrush until the end of semester. Still, Severus was mildly surprised it took the student so long to break – brat's parents were inferior Death Eaters, currently locked in Azbakan.

Minerva exhaled slowly and massaged her temples. ''I have to agree with Severus on this matter, Jocasta. Any teacher, regardless if they are a head of a house – and which house – or not, is entitled to impose detentions on any student, no matter which house the student was sorted into. That having been said, I am lifting the upcoming detention from Potter. Next time you decide to impose detention on him, consult Jocasta and if you can't reach an agreement, inform me.''

Sensing there was no room for argument, Severus nodded, even though he deeply disagreed with Minerva's decision. Not only because the Headmistress threw a wrench into his plans – Severus' keen eyes of a spy were simply more perceptive than his fellow teachers'. Or maybe they didn't notice certain things about the boy, because they didn't want to. Perhaps Severus should have pretended he hadn't seen some things as well.

He needed to learn more about the brat... and yet the awareness he had attempted to help Potter (he doubted the brat had accepted it) made Severus queasy. In this very moment, standing before his superior who basically told him to stop seeing the child so often, he questioned his own actions. His mission was done, the war had ended and Lily's son finally was out of harm's way. The brat had been right – Severus had no reasons to care. Severus didn't care.

---

''It's a relief McGonagall stepped in! Snape would never have left you alone!'' Ron patted Harry's back, packing up his Quidditch equipment following the end of the training.

''It's a shame she hadn't done it earlier,'' Harry sighed. Thanks to Snape's constant detentions, Harry managed to take part in only three trainings and they had a match against Slytherins the next day.

''Good job, Harry!'' Ritche shouted from a distance. ''I've never thought one could play so well having trained Quidditch so rarely!''

''Oh, give him a rest,'' said Lan. ''It's just Snape being Snape.''

Damelza laughed. ''See how far supporting the bat has gotten you?''

Harry threw sweaty towel in Damelza's direction. ''Oh, shut up!''

Ginny put her hands on her hips. ''Damelza, Ritchie, don't you have anything better to do?''

Once her, Harry and Ron were the only remaining members of the Gryffindor Quidditch team on the field, she spoke again. ''How are feeling about tomorrow?''

Harry shrugged. ''Fine, I guess. I feel I can do it. I just wish I had more time to train with you,'' he added sourly.

Ron picked up his back and the group headed for the castle. ''Ignore them, mate,'' Ron waved his hand dismissively. ''You're a lot better than Ritchie and Damelza combined and they attended every training.''

Harry smirked. ''Thanks.''

''Though, I have to admit Lan is pretty decent,'' Ron went on.

''Told you so!'' Ginny reminded meanly, receiving an eye-roll from her brother in response.

---

The weather was most inadequate for a Quidditch match – the sky was perfectly grey and the rain poured relentlessly. Both Gryffindor and Slytherin teams were standing awkwardly in the rain, looking like two groups of wet chickens or hungry orphans from an unfunded orphanage. Still both teams were determined to play the match and win it.

''I am happy to see all of you gathered together to show support to our Quidditch teams for the first time in over a year,'' the Headmistress announced. ''Many of you are wishing right now we met in better circumstances weather-wise. I couldn't agree more, however such a weather is nothing unusual in November in our climate. Now, without further ado, let the referee do her duty.''

Rolanda Hooch approached a chest and opened it. Then the teacher carefully unbuckled the balls. The new golden snitch of the Hogwarts made its debut in the match by flying high in the air. The Bludgers flew in completely different directions. Madam Hooch took the Quaffle and three it in the air, while blowing into her whistle. The game has started, Chasers rushed after the Quaffle. Harry went up in the air, trying to spot the snitch through the raindrops. His broom dangerously rocked in the strong wind.

''Weasley, I mean Ginny Weasley passed the Quaffle to Lan Nga Anh. Lan throws it to Damelza Robins... Damelza! Oh no! Vaisey takes over the Quaffle! Browleek earns slimes ten points!''

Harry looked at the new commentator. He spoke as if Lee's spirit got into him. Harry looked closer... no. A Hufflepuff talking like that?

''I'm sorry, Headmistress,'' the Hufflepuff didn't seem remorseful at all. ''It's just what everyone is thinking!''

Harry had to admit from the entire Slytherin team he only recognised Vaisey, but he wasn't even sure if it was his first or last name, and Brownleek, with whom he shared some classes.

''Yes! Yes! What a beautiful throw, Damelza!'' the Hufflepuff commentator cheered. ''Wait a moment... Ritchie, no, Ritchie!'' Ritchie admittedly did a poor job at the post of a Beater as he got himself knocked by a Bludger.

''Watch out Gryffindors, Brownleek is coming... Bravo, Weasley... uh, Ron. Ron Weasley defended goalpost! Why there are always so many Weasleys in Gryffindor team? I don't know how Lee managed to keep the record when Fred, George and Ron were all in the team!''

Harry spotted the snitch and directed his brown towards it. Slytherin's seeker's reflexes weren't any worse than Harry's, though.

Meanwhile Slytherins scored another ten points. ''Son of a... blast-ended skrewt,'' the commentator glanced at professor Sprout. ''Why weren't all these slimes expelled from the school? Sorry, Professor! It's what-'' the Hufflepuff addressed the Headmistress. ''Yes, Professor,'' he deflated. It didn't take a genius to figure out some points were taken from Hufflepuff for his frivolous speech.

---

The following Sunday was a Hogsmeade Sunday. Not having been in a particular hurry the quatro took a longer route, despite Hermione's nagging. The mud from yesterday's rain was splashing under their feet, adding depressive mood amplifying the depressive mood of the construction site. The hole in the castle's walls still seemed unreal. The Hogwarts castle has always reminded Harry of some unconquerable fortress.

Ron sighed and straightened his arms. ''Ah, it's so good we put slimes into their place yesterday,'' he said pleased.

''Well, only 180 to 170,'' Ginny reminded, clearly feeling down about winning by such a small margin of points.

''Ron!'' Hermione jabbed him with her elbow. ''Don't call them that! Don't you remember what McGonagall said during the Welcoming Feast?''

Her boyfriend shrugged non-commitally. ''Not really, why?''

''She said we should respect other houses. Slytherin too,'' Hermione put an emphasis on the last two words upon noticing Ron's slightly amused face. ''And the other thing she said is that students aren't allowed near construction site,'' she took a deep breath, like she used to when she was preparing to sermonise her friends. ''That's why I think we shouldn't be here- Hey!'' she yelled at Harry, giving the Weasley siblings a jumpscare. ''Throw it away! You don't know what that thing is!''

Harry sighed tiredly, not feeling like arguing with his friend, and threw a rock he was holding in the construction site's direction.

''Give it a rest, Hermione,'' Ginny tried to pacify the other girl. ''It's just a rock.''

This seemed to only irritate Hermione further. ''Haven't you read Hogwarts, A History? Strong protective spells-''

''No, we haven't,'' Ron cut in.

''I know you are feeling nervous because time flies so quickly and you're already worried about N.E.W.T.s-''

''Well, at least I'm using my free time to prepare for the exams,'' Hermione angrily crossed her arms.

Ron threw his arms up. ''Then why do you even bother going with us to Hogsmeade? It's a waste of time, isn't it?'' Harry paled at Ron's words. He shook his head and wordlessly mouthed 'stop' at Ron, who crinkled his nose up at Harry's expression.

''Guys, guys,'' Ginny raised her arms in a mock-surrender. ''Give it a rest. We're gonna meet Neville in Three Broomsticks. Isn't it worth looking forward to?''

Harry nodded vigorously, hoping the change of subject would ease the dense atmosphere. ''Yeah, I'm really curious how Neville's N.E.W.T.s went.''

''Do you really think they've already checked them? It's been only a month,'' Ron asked.

Ginny took Harry's hand and carressed its back with her thumb. Her gaze lifted up to meet Harry's and she smiled shyly. He knew why – Ginny must have sensed the unexpected lack of his Blood Quill scars.

Snape was a... mysterious man. He had assigned Harry with a load of detentions under any reason – no matter if it was real or not. And then during the last detention before the Headmistress decided to do something about the detentions injustice Harry had fallen a victim to, as Harry had been scrubbing a cauldron from mucus, Snape had spoken.

---

''You may leave, Lee. I want to see you again next Friday, 4 P.M. Do. Not. Be. Late.'' It was somehow refreshing to see Harry wasn't the only person Snape used his threatening voice on. The Slytherin student sneered, throwing the head of his house a glance that he probably deemed equally menacing as his teacher's voice and left.

''Show me your hand, Potter,'' the Potions Master ordered harshly. Harry made a show of throwing a sponge at the table before hanging his left hand in the former spy's sight. ''The other one,'' Snape said in a tone that informed he was done with Gryffindor's antics. Harry, however, wasn't done with his own antics. Even more so that he started to get an idea what the git wanted to see. ''Turn it around,'' Snape ordered when Harry shown the palm of his hand. And there it was, currently barely noticeable – a scar reading 'I must not tell lies'. ''A memento from our dear High Inquisitor, I assume? Don't give me that look, Potter. I am not a fool. That toad,'' Harry tried to stare angrily at the teacher for discovering his secret, he really tried, but he couldn't just stop the corners of his mouth going up upon hearing Snape calling Umbridge a toad. Luckily Snape ignored the sound of Harry choking on his snort. ''is ridiculously easy to see through. She wanted me to infuse you with Veritaserum. It doesn't come as a surprise she opted for this method of teaching you brats some discipline. Well, Potter,'' Snape smirked, but this time it looked different... as if it was forced. As if Snape didn't find it amusing. ''It seems you should be glad I only made you clean jars and cauldrons.'' Harry was silent. ''Have you told any teacher about it?'' Harry still was silent. ''Answer me, Potter. Preferably before the curfew.''

''No,'' Harry lowered his hand.

''No, sir,'' Snape corrected.

''No, sir,'' Harry parroted clenching his fists.

''And why is that?'' Snape raised an eyebrow.

''And how would you expect me to do so? Who should have I reached?'' Harry lost it. ''Dumbledore was out of Hogwarts, I didn't want to get professor McGonagall into troubles.''

''It's been over two years, for Merlin's sake! You could have contacted someone once that toad had left Hogwarts.''

''When?! It's been two years of shit going down after shit and another one! Sir!'' Harry sneered, uncarring how many more detentions he was going to receive from the git. ''Besides, what is it to you?'' he added after a second. He knew that Snape at some level cared (for the sake of Harry's mum, when hatred for Harry's dad didn't blind him) – that much was clear to Harry after he had seen his teacher's memories, and it stung somewhere inside Harry's gut right now. He needed Snape to deny it. He needed things to be normal again, because Snape's behaviour made no sense – he seemed to take interest in Harry's well-being out of sudden while keeping imposing detentions with sadistical pleasure. Things were so much simpler back then – Harry had hated Snape, Snape had hated Harry. Harry wanted to be mad at the git of a teacher, but how could he when he was aware how many times Snape had saved his life, how much Snape had risked and sacrificed?

Harry fully expected for Snape to yell at him and impose on him one thousand detentions. To his surprise Snape turned around, crouched in front of a shelf and reached for a potion. He returned to his student, handing him a jar that turned out to contain not a potion but some kind of ointment. ''Apply it once a day for a week when the Moon rises. Report to me next Friday.''

If Harry were wearing his trousers, he would have put his hands into the pockets, but due to the lack of them, he put his hands behind his back. ''Thank you, sir, but I don't need it. I'm fine, it's almost gone.''

Snape's expression was scornful. ''Don't argue with me. It will never disappear without a proper care.'' Harry was about to refuse accepting the... the gift? But the teacher spoke once more. ''Take it and do as I say. If I don't see your scars gone next Friday, I am going to inform Madam Pomfrey, professor O'Cathail and the Headmistress about the treatment you had received from the High Inquisitor. Choose wisely, Potter.''

---

Ginny cleared her throat, bringing Harry back to the present moment, and looked away. ''I think we shouldn't linger here any longer. Neville is probably already waiting for us.''

Neville indeed was waiting in Three Broomsticks. His face, previously showing a sign of worry, lit up at the sight of his friends. ''Hi, guys!'' he waved and soon five Gryffindors were sitting at the table.

Madam Rosmerta quickly abandoned her post by the bar as she spotted the newcomers. ''What will be for you?'' she smiled.

Gryffindors exchanged gazes and spoke at once. ''Five butterbeers, please.''

''Alright, I'll bring them in a second. On the house,'' she winked at them.

Teenagers looked at her somewhat embarrassed. ''Oh, no, we shouldn't...'' Hermione said, reaching for her purse.

''On the house,'' Madam Rosmerta was adamant. ''For the saviour of the wizardkind and his friends who defeated Voldemort. Ah-ah,'' she tutted when Neville and Harry were about to protest. ''You'll pay the next time, don't worry.''

''How I missed the taste,'' Ron sighed, licking the foam from his lips. He put away the glass and wrapped his arm around Hermione's shoulder. Meanwhile Ginny cuddled up to Harry. Then Ron glared at the slightly sulking Neville. ''Hey, don't keep us in the dark! How is your Auror training going?''

Neville took a seep of his butterbeer and crossed his arms. ''I'm not an Auror trainee yet.''

''But you've said you were helping Aurors hunt down Death Eaters,'' Ron protested. ''Man, I wish it were me,'' he added dreamily. ''All I have to do is study some stupid subjects like Potions,'' he scoffed.

''Yeah, I am,'' Neville shrugged. ''But the entrance exams were moved to January because of N.E.W.T.s being held in October. I don't even know if there's any point in studying for the entrance exams anyway...''

Hermione made an outraged face at the mere suggestion of studying being pointless. ''Of course there is! I've heard they are difficult, you should put all your efforts into it, Neville!''

Neville sent her an angry glare, but it lasted only for a fraction of a second. He couldn't stay mad at his friends for long. ''That's not what I meant. I-,'' he lowered his head ashamed. ''They want five E's and I've achieved only four. I got an A at Potions.''

''They can't not accept you only because of that! You cut Nagini's head off for Merlin's sake!'' Ginny said indignantly.

Neville drew circles on the table with his glass of butterbutter. ''Well,'' he drawled. ''Savage said they would accept me even if I had three E's. He seems pleased with my work so far.''

''What is the problem then?'' Ron asked confused.

''Savage isn't a high rank Auror. He may even believe he's right, but he doesn't make the rules.''

Ginny shifted slightly, making herself more comfortable against Harry's chest. ''Yes, but aren't Aurors terribly understaffed after the war? It's quite likely they'll loosen their criteria for candidates.''

''I'm sure they'll accept you with open arms, Neville,'' Hermione assured.

''Ginny's right. Hey, do you think they'll keep less strict criteria the next year? I feel I might not score an E at Potions too,'' Ron asked with newfound interest.

Hermione looked at him, furrowing her eyebrows. ''That's why you need to study harder!''

Ron looked as if he was about to reply, but decided not to. ''At least Harry doesn't need to worry about his Potions N.E.W.T. Snape will make sure of that!'' he joked instead.

''And why is that?'' Neville asked curiously.

''I had like a half of September's and all of October's Friday afternoons filled with detentions,'' Harry lamented.

''During our Quidditch trainings! Can you imagine?'' Ron seconded his friend, making Harry's situation look like a Greek tragedy.

Hermione rolled her eyes. ''Tell us more about your work with Aurors!'' she pleaded, knowing it would take boys' minds off that game.

Neville loudly gulped, swallowing the beverage. ''Oh, the Death Eaters are so spread out you wouldn't believe,'' he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. ''The majority tries to get back to their normal lives and pretends they've never sided with Voldemort. They usually come up with excuses like they had been Imperiused and so on. But there are also the loyal ones. They fight till the end. An awful lot, quite stealthy. I think we've had the most trouble with Rowle.''

''What happened?'' Harry asked. The quatro was sitting at the edge of their seats.

''He had been caught, but the transport wasn't guarded well enough – he ran away. We suspect it was him who helped Macnair with his escape from Azkaban. It would have been much worse, but Proudfoot arrived with his team on time to stop any more prisoners from leaving their cells.''

Chapter Text

It came as no surprise to Harry when Snape ordered him to stay after classes as Harry was packing his equipment. Snape wasn't the forgetting type and surely wasn't happy he hadn't been able to check on Harry's scar on Friday like he had warned. Harry nodded at his friend and turned around to face his teacher.

''So, Potter,'' Snape crossed his arms. ''Have you been applying the ointment as I told you?''

''Yes, sir,'' Harry drawled.

Snape sceptically raised an eyebrow. ''Show me, then. Just spare me the play with your hands this time.'' Harry rolled up the sleeve of his robe and put his right hand in Potions Master's line of sight. Snape scrutinised the back of student's hand. ''Wise choice, Potter. Should you find yourself at the receiving end of psychopath's wrath, report to the staff immediately instead of waiting two years for someone to notice,'' he added drily. ''I hope no such an eventuality shall happen in the last six months of your education, however, being aware of your exceptional affinity for getting yourself into trouble, I fear it is quite likely.''

Harry furrowed his eyebrows at the speech and glanced briefly at the door. ''I think I got the massage. Sir. May I-?''

Snape looked at the teenager unamused. ''Yes, you may leave, Potter.''

The weather was too bad for the students to spend their free time outside. Besides, Ron, Hermione and Ginny didn't have the time to walk far away. Harry caught up with them quickly.

''How nice of him not to hold you until Transfiguration this time,'' Ginny smirked.

''Did you get more detentions?'' Ron asked curiously.

Harry shook his head. ''No. Whatever McGonagall told Snape, it must have discouraged him from imposing detentions on me for good,'' he grinned.

''What did he want then?'' Ron wrinkled his nose. ''He didn't invite you for some tea and biscuits, did he?''

Harry snorted at the image of Snape doing so. ''It was nothing important, really.'' Feeling his friends' nosy eyes on him, Harry went on. ''During the last detention Snape gave a salve for my Umbridge scar.''

Hermione's eyes seemed to grow wider. She swiftly snatched his hand and looked at it. ''Harry, that's wonderful! Why haven't you told us earlier?'' she let go of his hand.

Harry shrugged. ''I didn't think it's important.''

Ron tilted his head questioningly. ''You asked him for the salve?''

''No!'' Harry protested, taken aback. ''He... he saw my scar and just gave the salve to me. Actually, he threatened me he would tell McGonagall about the scar if I didn't use it.''

Now it was Ron's turn to inspect Harry's hand. ''If I were you, mate, I'd be afraid my hand would fall out.''

''Ron!'' Hermione gasped.

As none of the quatro took a N.E.W.T.-level Divination, they had an entire span of a lesson for themselves. Unfortunately, they had also several assignments to finish, so they headed for the library. Harry felt like falling asleep on the book. Even if he had, he wouldn't have got a lot of sleep – Madam Pince had a sort of sixth sense when it came to mistreating books. When the time for Arithmancy arrived, Hermione waved a 'bye' and left for the classes.

Ginny put her hand on his knee. ''Are you alright? You seem slightly unfocused.''

Harry took off his glasses, rubbed his eyes and put them back again. ''Yeah, yeah,'' he nodded. ''It's probably the weather.''

''Or it's Snape,'' Ron whispered conspiratorially, earning an eye-roll from his sister. ''But on a serious note, I get you, mate. That Herbology bullshit makes me feel like nodding off too!''

---

Thanks to Minerva's order Severus was back to square one. Well, in all honesty, he managed to scrape some information. Patrolling school's corridors, Severus tried to piece together what he knew of the boy so far. First of all, Potter naturally looked like late James Potter's copy.

Secondly, there was something Severus had never paid attention to before – when the brat was reading a book or noting down in his notebook, he tended to hunch over, making his mop of hair fall on his face. It was something James Potter had never done. Severus couldn't imagine his bully ever allowing his glorious hair fall so unattractively on his face. However, Severus knew the person who had done exactly that – himself. Potter hunched over his notebook reminded Severus of his younger self he had seen oftentimes during relieving his memories in the Pensieve. A teenager with his nose in the book and his hair all over his face, while other students laughed at him and called him 'Snivellous'.

Severus was aware of his own faults. He could be pretty petty and sassy. Now that Severus recalled the brat telling him there was no need to call him 'sir', he rather reminded Severus of his younger self, only with less control over his mouth, than James Potter. Frankly, Severus had to admit, despite what he had believed for so many years, The-Boy-Who-Lived's character was nothing like James Potter's. He wasn't the selfish, spoiled brat Severus had wanted to see in the boy. On the other hand, numerous traits could be attributed to the upbringing and having become an orphan at the age of one-year old, Potter's spawn couldn't imitate his father's behaviour. Moreover, brat's traits could hardly serve as an indicator of his lineage.

The sound of adolescent voices yelling and screaming broke him from his musings. Naturally, dunderheads couldn't behave themselves for long. His long legs carried him to the source of the tumult. He spotted a first-year Slytherin pressed against the wall by two fifth-years. Severus narrowed his eyes – Potter and Ronald Weasley were there too. It appeared that none of the students were aware of teacher's presence. Maybe Severus had given Potter the benefit of doubt too quickly, maybe he was like the bully of his father after all. He took a step forward ready to put a stop to the torment.

''Dennis, are you out of your mind? What has he done to you?'' Potter actually tried to stop his fellow Gryffindor from bullying other kids?

''Nothing. Yet,'' Dennis Creevey said coldly.

''Then leave him alone,'' Potter moved to stand between the young Slytherin and older students.

''But he will, sooner or later. He's a Slytherin,'' Creevey went on.

Severus' stomach tightened. The problem is he exists, if you know what I mean, James Potter had said.

''They all are the same,'' said Orla Quirke. ''They all support Death Eaters and only wait for the right moment to strike knife into ours back,'' she spat hatefully.

''He is a first-year,'' Potter pointed out. ''He had nothing to do with the war.''

Creevey snorted. ''Sure. I bet his parents are Death Eaters.''

''You don't know that,'' Potter's posture stiffened. ''And even if you were right, so what? We don't carry the sins of our parents! Kid is his own person.''

Ronald Weasley seemed to be getting more and more annoyed with the scene. ''Harry, leave it. Dennis is a piece of shit,'' he said it right into Creevey's face and then turned his attention back to his friend. ''Let's go, we're gonna be late for DADA.''

''That's right, Potter,'' Ravenclaw girl mocked. ''Go, we will handle it.''

''All Slytherins are either Death Eaters or their supporters,'' Creevey took a step forward.

''Not all Slytherins are Death Eaters! Slughorn isn't!'' Potter reminded.

Creevey cocked his head from side to side. ''Are you sure about that? He was quite slippery with his Slugclub. That was probably something like Death Eaters kindergarten or something.''

Potter clenched his fists. ''Yes, Dennis, I am sure. I attended some of those meetings. And you know what? Pettigrew was a Gryffindor!'' Apparently the brat decided to strike where it would hurt the most. ''He was the Death Eater who betrayed my parents!''

''Maybe the old Hat wasn't in its right mind when it was sorting him,'' Quirke tried to push Potter away to gain access to the Slytherin on the floor.

Weasley sighed tiredly. ''Harry, there's no point in reasoning with them.''

Severus stepped in, finally making his presence known. ''Creevey, ten points from Gryffindor!'' Then his gaze pierced the girl. ''Quirke, ten points from Ravenclaw! Both of you – detention,'' he hissed spitefully, his voice was icily cold.

Potter looked at him defiantly, probably awaiting a detention as well. Against himself, Severus smirked a little and nodded at the brat on his way to his Slytherin on the floor. Not like James Potter, so it seemed. Severus helped the first-year get up and escorted him to his office. Oh, he was going to have a talk with Jocasta and Filius.

---

After DADA (fortunately it turned out once professor O'Cathail was pleased with the class' theoretical knowledge she was willing to move onto more practical aspects of the subject) Ginny went to spend some time with her classmates and the trio decided to visit Hagrid.

''Just the three of us, like in good old times,'' Ron, who was walking with Hermione on his right and Harry on his left, spread out his arms around both of his friends' shoulders.

Harry eyed him. ''Why is Ginny a problem to you? I'm not complaining you are going everywhere with Hermione!''

''Hey!'' Hermione protested. On Harry's head suddenly landed a heap of leaves.

Ron shrugged. ''Well, the difference is Hermione has always gone everywhere with us.''

Hermione raised her head proudly, as if she hadn't ambushed her friend a second ago and crossed her arms. ''I think it's healthy Ginny isn't limiting her friendships to her boyfriend's friends and her brother.''

If she wanted to go further in her tirade, she didn't have a chance, because leaves thrown at Ron by Harry ricocheted off the red head to hit her. She growled and with a flick of her wand sent leaves flying at Harry. The boy in glasses stumbled back, but managed to throw some leaves back at Hermione, who parried them. Colourful leaves flew in every direction, quite a few of them landing in teenagers' hair. Hermione failed at surpressing her laughter – the saviour of wizardkind sitting in a heap of leaves looked rather silly. Then she picked a leaf from Ron's hair.

''You know,'' she said spinning the leaf by its stem in her fingers. ''They suit you,'' she closed one eye and looked at the leaf and Ron's red hair behind it.

By the time they arrived at Hagrid's hut their robes were dirty with wet stains of slowly decaying leaves.

''Come in, come in!'' Hagrid welcomed them kind-heartedly. ''What happened to yeh? Struck with a tornado?'' the teacher of Care of Magical Creatures asked with an amusement in his eyes as he saw their unruly hair.

Harry bit the upper lip and glanced at his friends. ''Something like that.''

''Sit down and warm up a little. Wouldn' wanna any of yeh catch a cold,'' Hagrid said putting on the table three hot cups of tea. The smell of citruses and ginger pleasantly tickled their nostrils.

Hermione blowed at her cup. ''How is Buckbeak doing?''

''Beaky is fine- No, Fang, stay!'' the keeper ordered when his dog walked in, ready to lick the faces of the guests. ''He doesn' mind the weather as long as he has a place to spread his wings. How are yer classes goin'?''

''Oh, we've got a load of work, but I think it's managable with the right schedule,'' Hermione made a serious face.

Ron relaxed in the chair. ''Yeah, and Snape keeps draining our points... we're gonna lose the cup,'' he grimaced.

''Well, I see why yer angry, but I'm sure Professor Snape has his reasons,'' Hagrid put an emphasis on the word 'professor' and raised an eyebrow.

Ron pursed his lips. ''And his reason is disliking Harry.''

Hagrid furrowed his eyebrows. ''What yer... Professor Snape? He risked his life fer Harry!''

Harry looked away. ''Actually, he had a good reason today...'' he said quietly.

Ron waved his hand. ''Stop it, mate. He should've given you points for standing up to Dennis!''

Harry truly didn't think he deserved any award for stopping Dennis from bullying a helpless first-year. In a way it would have felt as if Gryffindor were awarded for Dennis' unacceptable behaviour, while Ravenclaw would have only received penalty for Orla Quirke.

Hermione looked at the boys startled. ''What happened? You haven't said anything earlier.''

Harry shrugged, the warmth of the cup being much more interesting than the story to tell. ''Dennis and Quirke – she's a Ravenclaw,'' he explained. ''assaulted a first-year Slytherin. I told them to stop, Snape walked in, imposed detentions on them and took points from the houses. That's it.'' Harry was probably imaging things, but the look on Snape's face when he saw Harry protect young Slytherin was somehow similar to the one he'd had when Harry had defended him in the court. He still couldn't decipher it, the expression kept eluding him, but the more he thought about it, the more his guts were telling him to was something akin to... gratitude? No, that was a wrong word. Appre-

Hermione covered her mouth with her hand. ''Dennis is truly losing it,'' she put a stop to Harry's speeding thoughts. ''You did the right thing. I always knew your moral compass is correct, Harry. Maybe Snape should've given you some points, but I can see why he chose not to. Besides, there are more important matters than the House Cup,'' she said the last part turning her attention to her boyfriend.

''And how are your classes, Hagrid?'' Ron changed the subject. It seemed that he was in the minority concerning the assessment of the argument with Dennis.

''So far no one got bit by Beaky!'' Hagrid laughed. ''But two students landed in Hospital Wing after tryna openin' the book. Nothin' serious,'' he waved his hand dismissively upon seeing Hermione's worried expression. ''Got all o' their fingers.''

''Aren't there less um... bloodthirsty textbooks out there?'' Ron wrinkled his nose, sipping his tea. He's never liked that book.

Hagrid gulped down whatever he was drinking. ''Maybe there are... None of 'em as good, let me tell yeh.''

Harry shook and rubbed his hands against his arms.

''Yeh alright, Harry?'' Hagrid narrowed his eyes.

Harry swallowed and nodded. ''Yeah, I just think I just might have caught cold out there,'' he breathed out, trying to warm himself up a bit.

''Ah, I've got a remedy fer that!'' Hagrid clapped and reached into a counter behind him, producing some bottle. He got up, grabbing his umbrella on the way and walked to the kettle. He poured the beverage into the kettle and lit up the fire with his umbrella. Slowly stirring the contents of the kettle, he hummed some song adding spices. ''There yeh go!'' he poured four cups of mulled mead. ''Oughta keep yeh warm.''

Hagrid's way of dealing with cold didn't seem to work. Harry was tired all the time and with every passing day the castle seemed to be getting even colder to the point when jumping into the fireplace in Gryffindor common room started to look like a welcoming idea. He tried to hide his detororiated condition from his peers, feeling utterly ridiculous – people dubbed him the saviour of wizardkind (gosh, he hated it even more than 'The Chosen One') and yet he cought a common muggle cold in the middle of November.

Frankly, he made an awful job at hiding the state of his well-being – Ginny needed only to take his hand to see right through him. ''You should go to see Madam Pomfrey! You are freezing.''

He shivered under the warmth of her touch. ''It's nothing. Just a cold.''

''Harry,'' she put hand hands on her hips and eyed him scrutinisingly, like her mum when she was preparing to tell Arthur Weasley off.

''Alright, alright!'' he raised his hands in a mock-surrender. ''After Quidditch, OK?''

Ginny grimaced. ''I dunno... you really shouldn't be flying like that. It's gonna get worse.''

''Come on, Ginny! It's not like I'm going to fall off a broom,'' Harry rolled his eyes.

In a way he was right – he didn't fall off his broom, he crashed into one of spectator stands, never letting go off the broom.

''You alright, mate?'' Ron helped him get up.

Harry hazily nodded, nearly tripping on his own foot if not for Ron keeping him upright.

Ginny's gaze was as fiery as her hair. ''Harry! I told you you were not fit for the training! You could've hurt yourself. Go to the Hospital Wing! Now!'' she pointed her finger towards the castle.

''Isn't it our ex-captain?'' Ritchie snorted.

Ginny clenched her fists and her eyes landed on her Beater. ''One more word and you're out of the team,'' she hissed and joined her brother in helping Harry reach the Hospital Wing.

''My goodness, Potter! Why haven't you come earlier?'' Madam Pomfrey put her hand on his forehead. ''Get into bed,'' she hurried the student.

''Is he alright?'' Ginny asked, while Ron was swaying from one foot to the other.

Madam Pomfrey smiled. ''Oh, I'm sure it's nothing to worry about. I'll run some examinations and we'll see what he caught this time. Don't worry, we've treated much worse conditions. My, my, aren't you a troublesome bunch?'' she eyed the Gryffindors.

Chapter Text

Harry didn't think his condition was serious enough to keep him in the Hospital Wing, but he wasn't complaining – the stay at the Hospital Wing meant skipping classes. Naturally, Hermione was the first person to remind him he would have to catch up with the material he's missed, but Harry decided he was going to cross that bridge when he got to it.

''Man, maybe I should ask George if he still has some of his specialities?'' Ron whispered conspiratorially when Hermione was out of the hearing distance. ''Do you think I should go for U-No-Poo or Fainting Fancies?''

Harry exaggeratedly pondered. ''I'd go for Fever Fudge,'' he said after a moment.

Ginny rolled her eyes. Her brother sometimes was pretty selfish. ''Do you think Madam Pomfrey knows what is she doing? You've been here for three days and your hands are still cold.''

Ron sighed. ''Girls. Always have to worry about everything. Of course she knows what she's doing, that's her job! Right, Harry?''

''Well, I...'' Harry hesitated, not wanting to enrage his girlfriend, but not wanting to oppose his friend at the same time. ''I appreciate your concern, Ginny, but maybe it just takes time, like Skele-Gro.''

Ginny wrinkled her nose. ''Yes, a day, maybe two, but not three. You're not looking any better!''

Truth be told, Harry couldn't say he felt any better. For a moment he had a fleeting thought to suggest Madam Pomfrey prescribing him muggle medicines – if he caught a muggle cold muggle meds should be more effective, right? However, he quickly remembered that wizarding community was rather prejudiced when it came to muggle inventions and muggles in general, even the 'light' side of the war. Mrs. Weasley complaining every year about the number of muggles present at King's Cross station was a prime example. Madam Pomfrey would most likely laugh at his idea.

As Ron, Hermione and Ginny had to leave for the classes, they said their 'byes' and promised they would come again in the evening.

Lying in the bed, Harry recalled the times he's caught cold. Since the Dursleys hadn't wanted to waste money and medicines on him, he usually had ended up walking feverish around the house (and often to school) for days. His record had been two weeks with low-grade fever, headache and sore throat. Even though aunt Petunia and uncle Vernon had never saved on Dudley's meds, he could recall his cousin spending a week in the bed. Compared to that, this treatment was a blessing. If only Madam Pomfrey wasn't pestering him with examinations. And perhaps if he wasn't feeling so awfully cold all the time... maybe he was having a flu? How different were the symptoms of cold from the symptoms of flu? Neither magical nor muggle medicine was Harry's strong suit.

However, Harry strong belief there was nothing out of usual about his condition started to crumble when Snape walked into the Hospital Wing and their eyes met.

---

Severus entered the Hospital Wing. He required only a fraction of second to spot the unruly Gryffindor sitting on a bed with his torso naked and Poppy by his side. His legs carried him to the boy's bed. The brat looked rather normal, except for being paler in the face. The first glance didn't alarm him about his presence being a necessity for the sake of brat's well-being. However, Poppy was adamant Potter's current condition was something that required further inspection. ''My set of potions for standard autumn illnesses isn't working,'' she had told him. ''But I can't get anything else from my examinations. I fear it could be...'' she had lowered her voice. ''A curse. And you're far more knowledgeable in this area than me.''

And so Severus arrived. ''Poppy, you've called me,'' he cleared his throat, making his presence known.

Poppy got up, hiding her wand. ''Yes, thank you for coming so quickly. If you were so kind and checked on Potter.''

''Naturally,'' Severus nodded.

''Alright, that will be all from me for now. You may put your pajamas on,'' she addressed the student. Giving her colleague a brief glance, she went to help other patients.

As Harry was putting on his pajama shirt, Severus spotted a mark on his arm and for a moment he thought he was going to be sick. He had seen a similar birthmark on Thobias Snape's arm during hot summer days when his father had been walking around the house in dirty tank top stained with sweat. The sight felt like a slap to his face. The Gryffindor must have noticed the change in his teacher's demenour as he eyed him questioningly.

''Well, well, well, what do we have here?'' Severus opted for his usual unwelcoming tone. ''Haven't I told you to report to me immediately if you get yourself into troubles again, Potter?''

Potter finished buttoning down his pajamas shirt. ''It's just a cold. Do you want me to report to you everytime I have a running nose, sir?'' As eloquent as ever the brat was.

''You surely cannot be that dense, Potter,'' Severus hissed. ''Do you think Madam Pomfrey would have sent for me if it were a mere cold?'' The teenager looked away, probably having run out of excuses. ''Give me your hand,'' Severus demanded, drawing Gryffindor's attention. The brat moved his hand further away from the former spy. ''We don't have the time for your childish games, Potter.'' The teenager pouted, but followed his teacher's order. Holding Potter's cold hand tightly, Severus took out his wand. With a broad sweep of his wand he spoke ''Revelet carmina mala''. Veins under boy's skin turned red, rush-like for a second and as quickly as they changed their colour, they turned back to normal. Severus furrowed his eyebrows – usually curse detecting spell worked for longer span of time, giving more time to inspect the curse. ''Revelet carmina mala'' he waved his wand again, still holding Potter's hand firmly. Once again boy's veins flashed red for a brief moment. Severus let go of Gryffindor's hand. ''Muffliato!'' he hissed mildly irriatted. ''You obviously got yourself cursed, Potter. And you didn't rush to report that to me or any other teacher, even though our late Headmaster's example should have shown you what a curse that is not treated in time can lead to,'' he angrily narrowed his eyes.

''I didn't know, I swear!'' the boy yelped ''I don't even know how it happened.''

Severus leant forward, his bent figure reminding of a young tree against a wind. ''Are you sure about it? Think, Potter, think!'' he jabbed boy's forehead. ''Haven't touched anything that you should have not touched like our late Headmaster or Miss Bell?''

The brat clenched his fists. ''No, I haven't touched any jewellery, sir.''

''Do not tease me, Potter,'' Severus warned. Some audacity the brat possessed.

''I didn't do anything, OK?! It's not like I enjoy getting myself cursed. Sir,'' Gryffindor's angry stare matched Severus' own.

Severus truly felt like replying to that remark, but stopped himself from doing so. He didn't have the time to argue with the brat. ''Stretch out your hand.''

''You've tried that one already,'' Potter pointed out.

''Do not question my orders,'' Severus grimaced. The boy didn't make Severus' job of helping him any easier. Potter grumbled, but did as he was asked. This time, however, Severus pulled a bottle from the pocket of his robe. He uncorked it and with a quick movement of his wand, made a tiny cut in his index finger. A droplet of his blood fell into the bottle. Severus corked the bottle again and gave the liquid a swirl, but the potion remained yellow. Whatever curse it was, some concealing charms were woven into it, clearly. The curse wasn't meant to be easily identified.

''Hey!'' the boy withdrew his hand and put his finger into his mouth.

''Don't act like a crybaby, Potter.'' Now that Severus thought about it, it was so easy. He could put a drop of Potter's blood into pre-prepared Bloodline potion containing Severus' own blood under a pretence of diagnosing the curse. He could finally know the truth for sure. But no, he quickly banished the temptation, he wasn't going to betray the trust put in him for his own means. ''I suggest you think harder about the origin of the curse. Or I will be forced to resort to infusing you with Veritaserum.''

''But I really have no idea, sir!'' Potter pouted, crossing his arms in protest. The action made him look few years younger.

Severus pushed into the back of his mind the spark of amusement at the sight of The Chosen One pouting like a child. He is still a child, Severus thought with a certain sadness he didn't anticipate himself to feel.

''We met with Neville in Hogsmeade like two weeks ago, I think?'' the boy went on. ''We had a glass of butterbeer in Three Broomsticks. I'm sure Madam Rosmerta doesn't have anything to do with this. She didn't look like under Imperius curse this time.''

Severus eyed the boy sceptically. ''So you can recognise straight away if somebody has fallen a victim to the Imperius curse? Good Merlin, the saviour of wizardkind is truly an outstanding wizard,'' he ridiculed.

Potter clenched his fists. ''It's not my fault you can't even tell which curse had attacked me! No wonder you were assigned Potions instead of DADA again. Sir!'' the brat stared into Severus' eyes, challening him.

Only halfway of the movement Severus realised his right hand was raising. He quickly lowered it, his very soul terrified by the action. No, he was not going to turn into his own father. He was not going resort to violence. He spun on his heel and headed for the exit, sloppily casting a wordless 'Finite Incantatem'. He had to consult Minerva and Jocasta. And stop thinking about the birthmark.

''Potter is cursed,'' Severus announced plainly during a briefing in Minerva's office. ''Unfortunately, I wasn't able to identify the curse. Whoever was the author of the curse, that person surely didn't want it to be easily recognisable. It hardly surrenders to the curse-unravelling spell.''

''What results has the spell produced?'' Jocasta O'Cathail asked.

''Only short-lived flashing of the circulatory system,'' Severus' report earnt him a worried 'oh' from Poppy.

Jocasta on the other hand was fully in her analytical state. ''It could be a blood curse. Have you tried running the curse reagent test, Snape?''

Severus scoffed. Did this woman take him for an amateur? ''Naturally I have, O'Cathail,'' he said coldly. ''Boy's blood doesn't react with the potion.''

Poppy nodded. ''The curse didn't leave any visible signs. The only symptom is the coldness of the body. By no means the lowered body temperature reached a life-threatening level, at least in the short run.''

Minerva tiredly took off her glasses and rubbed her eyes. ''Sweet Merlin... what did he get himself into this time?''

Severus clipped his hands behind his back. ''That is what I'm trying to determine, Minerva. However, Potter in his endless wisdom isn't even aware what might have triggered the curse.''

''Severus, please,'' Minerva sent him a reprimanding look. ''The boy is suffering from a curse. You don't have to criticise him any further. Show him some sympathy.''

Severus pretended he didn't hear the remark. ''Nevertheless, as I was saying, I wish to interrogate his friends. They are the most likely to leave some clues as to what curse had befallen Potter.''

''With all due respect, Minerva, I have to object. I am the head of the Gryffindor. I shall speak with the Weasleys and Ms. Granger myself,'' Jocasta intertwined her fingers and rested them against her abdomen.

''Then I shall object to your objection, O'Cathail,'' a grimace entered Severus' face. ''I have spoken with Potter. I have a better idea what questions should be posed to your Gryffindors.''

Jocasta only spared Severus a glance. ''Taking into account your demenour around students, it is quite likely you won't get any answers, Snape. I am the head of Gryffindor, they should trust me.''

''You are new to the role of teacher, while I have successfully interrogated numerous students countless times. Your Auror methods might not work on students,'' Severus smirked meanly. ''Besides, I believe I also have more experience with treating curses.''

Jocasta snorted theatrically. ''Oh, yes, you've treated Dumbledore so well you had to opt for mercy killing.''

Poppy looked slightly terrified to her right at Jocasta, then to her left at Severus, feeling caught between rock and a hard place.

''Jocasta! Severus! Peace!'' Minerva roared getting up from her chair. Then he fell back into the seat with a thud. ''Act like grown-ups for Merlin's sake! As if I don't have enough matters to take care of!'' She run her hand down her face and put on her glasses. ''That's how we will deal with this issue: Severus will talk to Weasleys and Granger. Just try being less coarse this time. Jocasta will talk to Potter. Maybe you can get more information from him or notice something about the curse. Poppy – you know what to do.''

Later that day Severus summoned Potter's friends to his office. If Potter hadn't noticed what had inflicted him with the curse, maybe the other three Gryffindors had.

''You might not be aware that Potter was inflicted with a curse,'' Severus didn't feel like beating around the bush with a small talk or bothering offering brats a place to sit. Granger covered her mouth in shock, Ronald Weasley paled and Ginevra Weasley grabbed her brother's arm.

''But you will cure him, right, sir?'' Granger asked warily.

''What is wrong with him?'' the youngest of Weasleys asked at the same time.

Severus gave teenagers unimpressed look. Naturally the idea of not speaking at the same time was beyond them. ''I do hope I will be able to help your friend. However, I might require your input. Potter claims he hadn't done anything that could get him into this state. I am hoping you have more wits than your unfortunate friend and can actually tell me what is the cause of the curse.''

''But Harry is right! We haven't done anything- hell, he hasn't done anything!'' Ron protested.

''You are not very helpful to your friend, Ronald Weasley,'' Severus said flatly. ''He is cursed, therefore something must have triggered the curse. Apparently such a simple conclusion is beyond your mental capabilities. Whatever reckless, immature behaviour of Potter you are trying to hide, contrary to what you are thinking, you are doing your friend a disservice.''

''Uh,'' Granger spoke, drawing Severus attention. ''I think I have some guesses, professor.'' Severus waved his hand, encouraging her to go on. ''During our trip to Hogsmeade we took a east-side route. We passed by the east wing, near the construction site. And, um,'' the girl swallowed. ''Harry picked up some rock. I told him to throw it away and he did.''

''Hermione, don't be ridiculous!'' Ronald Weasley looked incredulously at the girl. ''If Harry got the curse by touching some rock then everyone working at the construction site would have been cursed as well! Have you heard about anyone else getting cursed lately?''

''But Headmistress forbade students from walking around the construction site for a reason... It is mentioned in Hogwarts, A History that the Founders put strong protective spells around the castle walls. Maybe the spells caused the curse?'' Granger pointed out, making the boy roll his eyes.

''Protective spell cursing people?'' Ronald Weasley still tried to wrap his head around the idea.

Hermione Granger shrugged. ''You know what they say – the best defence is a good offence.''

Ginevra Weasley considered her friend's words. ''If that were the case, you would also have been cursed, and Ron as well.''

Severus raised an eyebrow, intrigued. ''And why is that?''

''During the battle, when the wall exploded, Harry, Hermione and Ron were buried in the rubble, right? All of them touched stones from the wall that, according to Hermione, should have been magically protected. But it is only Harry who is cursed,'' Ginevra was thinking really hard, looking for the answer to the riddle.

Ronald's eyes went slightly wider. ''Do you think it was the curse that killed-?'' he didn't finish the sentence. He didn't have to.

The Weasleys were still grieving the loss of their brother, it didn't take a spy to notice that. What Minerva had asked him to? To be less coarse? Fine, I'll do it your way, Minerva , Severus thought. ''I do not think it was a curse in your brother's case. Certainly not the one that had befallen your friend. What I've learnt today might actually prove itself to be of use. However, if you recall anything that could be connected to the curse, report it to the Headmistress, professor O'Cathail, Madam Pomfrey or me.''

''Professor?''Ginevra couldn't help herself but to ask. ''Will Harry be alright?''

Unexpected knot formed in Severus' stomach, bringing a kind of worry previously unknown to him. Severus refused to name it. ''I am going to do anything in my power to cure Potter. Furthermore, currently there is no indication the curse is dangerous,'' he spoke calmly, matter-of-factly, even though his guts were telling him the last part of the sentence soon was going to prove itself false. No, it wasn't going to come to this. He was going to treat the brat before the curse showed its true might. For Lily's sake. He wasn't going to fail her again. Not this time.

Subsequently Severus rushed to the library. He didn't expect to find the name of the curse in Hogwarts, A History , but it was quite likely the book was going to leave further leads concerning the nature of the curse. He nodded his head in the librarian's direction and headed for the 'history' section.

He started reading the book from the very beginning – the story of the Founders before the foundation of Hogwarts. It didn't appear the chapter held any useful information in regard with Potter's current state. He cast a time-indicating spell and huffed discontented – it was well past 8 P.M. He should've discussed with Minerva changing his patrols schedule for the time of figuring out Potter's condition. He closed the book and holding it in the crook of his arm, he walked to the exit. On his way out he showed Madam Pince the book, explaining shortly he wished to borrow it.

Chapter Text

There were moments Severus appreciated his own expertise in Potions. Usually those moments were mornings after sitting until late night (or early morning) when he had to get up for classes. Though, sometimes he didn't even need to get up, not having a chance to get any sleep at all. In those morning the energising potion was a salvation. Today was that day.

He opened his cabinet for most commonly used potions and reached for the energising potion. Having uncorked it, he downed the red liquid in one go and grimaced. Being used to the tase didn't make it any less foul.

Severus had spent the night hunched over Hogwarts, A History. He had finished the chapter concerning the foundation of Hogwarts and then he had focused on the chapter dedicated to the spells protecting the castle. Granger's memory hadn't misled her – protective spells guarding the castle were mentioned. However, it wasn't much more than a mention – the author focused on the anti-Apparating spell and the spell hiding the castle from muggles' eyes. Certainly it held no value with regard to the matter of the curse if it was caused by said protective spell in the first place. Severus opened the book on the fragment one last time before heading for his teacher duties. At the bottom of the page an adnotation read: 'see: the Song of the Four Founders'. Severus made a mental note to inquire Madam Pince about the song when returning the book.

''How is your research going, Snape?'' Jocasta approached him during the dinner time.

Severus took his seat at the teachers' table. ''I have not found the answer yet, however, your Gryffindors have hinted a promising lead.''

''Have they?'' Jocasta raised her cup of coffee to her lips with a sly smirk.

''And how was your talk with Potter?'' Severus asked reaching for a jug of tea to pour himself a cup. Woman's cup of coffee at such a late hour didn't escape his notice. Probably she had spent the night trying to come up with a solution to the newest Potter problem as well.

''Likewise yours. He cannot recall anything that could have cursed him. You might be pleasantly surprised by the trust the boy puts in you. He was rather convinced I needn't have run any further examinations since Poppy and you have already have quite a lot. Potatoes?'' she offered a bowl.

''Yes, thank you,'' Severus took the bowl. ''I don't know if my ego is going to survive such a flattery coming from The-Boy-Who-Lived,'' he deadpanned. ''But the hesitation to trust you most likely stems from the fact you are a new teacher. And not just a mere teacher – a DADA teacher. As far I am concerned Potter didn't have the best experience with DADA teachers thus far.''

''You are one of those teachers,'' Jocasta reminded.

Severus grimaced in what was his version of a mean smirk. ''I have never claimed he had a good experience with me as his DADA teacher. Or Potions Master for that matter.''

''Ah,'' Jocasta spoke softly, nodding to herself. ''So you are one of those who take pride in being a harsh teacher.''

''I might be harsh, but I try to assess students fairly. And believe me I don't demand more from my students than I demand from myself.''

Jocasta eyed him, reaching for the salad. ''Yes, I think can I believe that.''

Having spent the next few sleepless nights with Hogwarts, A History , Curses and Hexes Through The Ages , Sickness-Inducing Spells and Dark Arts: Most Vile Curses . Unfortunately, there wasn't exactly a plenty of curses matching Potter's curse properties. Sickness-Inducing Spells listed a number of curses which resulted in victim displaying symptoms similar to muggle cold, but most of them, according to the author, were trackable with the use of the curse-unravelling spell. There were two curses that didn't yield to the spell, but could be detected via basic curse reagent.

However, there was one curse that drawed Severus' attention as it didn't react with the spell or the potion. Being a professional pessimist Severus didn't let the discovery give him much hope.

He returned to the library to carry on his research concerning the Pseudomorbus curse. He was nearly completely lost in the reading, when the part of his brain eternally occupied by his spy sense alerted him of somebody walking in his direction. He carefully put his hand on his wand and looked up. His body relaxed – it was only Irma Pince glarring daggers at him.

''Do you know what time it is?'' the librarian, the only person in the entire school allowed to raise her voice in the library, crossed her arms.

''Not at all,'' Severus rubbed his eyes with his index finger and his thumb, not feeling like lying to the woman.

''10 P.M. We are closing,'' Madam Pince hissed.

''I must have lost myself in this fascinating reading,'' he spoke emotionlessly. ''I shall be going,'' he got up and picked up the books.

''Yes, you'd better,'' the librarian said coldly. ''And what do you think you are doing, Snape?''

''Leaving like you asked me to,'' the iciness of his voice matched hers.

''Oh, you are leaving. That book, however,'' she pointed at Hale and Hearty , which Severus had picked from a shelf only that day. ''Is not.''

''I am a teacher, Pince,'' Severus hissed. ''I do not require a permission to borrow any book.''

''And I am a librarian, Snape and when I tell you this book can't leave these walls, it can't. Do you know how many precious titles were lost thanks to your Death Eater friends?'' her gaze was fiery.

Severus knew repeating that Death Eaters had not been his friends was a pointless endeavour. ''Very well, then,'' he clicked his tongue and put the book on a desk. ''I will return tomorrow, Irma. Oh, one more thing before I leave – what do you know of the Song of the Four Founders?''

''The Song of the Four Founders?'' Madam Pince furrowed her eyebrows. ''The title rings a bell,'' she put her finger to her lips, for a moment forgetting about her fury. ''I think I've got it. Follow me,'' she waved her hand at the Potions Master.

After a short walk through the maze of through bookshelves, the librarian stopped. She ran her finger through the spins of the books until he picked one. ''I remembered correctly,'' she said skimming through the book. ''It's a 11 ^th century poem about the creation of Hogwarts.''

Written only a century after the creation of Hogwarts? The Founders could have been still alive when the poem had been written, Severus mused. As he reached out for the book, the librarian put it back on the shelf and it seemed she was about to bark at him like a guard dog. ''Available only in the library, I get it,'' he said.

All in all, hours spent in the library weren't a waste of time – he's learnt something about the Song of the Four Founders. Curiously enough, he couldn't recall the poem having been mentioned in his History of Magic curriculum. It appeared to be a rather important work of literature concerning the history of the school. Probably the History of Magic would have become too interesting in professor Binns' standards if he actually covered the poem. Maybe he should inquire the ghost after the matter? Perhaps he wouldn't bore Severus to death or fall asleep in the middle of his monologue. Furthermore, Severus found out the means of detecting the Pseudomorbus curse.

---

Harry didn't look forward to visits from his friends anymore. At the beginning of his stay in the Hospital Wing time spent with Ginny, Ron and Hermione had been the best part of the day, but now he couldn't bring himself to care. He didn't know why – he felt he should have found joy in those meetings. He didn't want to worry his friends any further, so he did his best to pay attention to Ginny's caring gestures, Ron's jokes and Hermione's reassuring that any day soon he would be cured. However, there were moments he couldn't force his mind to focus, opting for affirmative hums.

Everything was so tiring. Couldn't Madam Pomfrey, Snape and O'Cathail leave him alone? Instead they kept trying various potions and spells on him.

Harry wrapped the covers tighter around himself. The room felt as cold as if a Dementor had entered the place. However, there was no Dementor in sight, only Snape walking in once again. Maybe it was the weather. Even with the use of magic it was difficult to keep the castle warm. December was starting next week... Soon the Christmas break would arrive. Normally Harry at this time of year would already be on tenterhooks, awaiting the break from studying.

Harry felt Snape's observant eyes on him. He looked at his teacher and wondered if the former spy shouldn't be the one to remain in the Hospital Wing. The man certainly didn't look healthy.

''I came to continue the examination, Potter,'' Snape explained.

''Well, of course,'' Harry said emotionlessly. ''That's all you do these days, sir.''

Snape sent him an unamused look. ''I require to put a drop of your blood into this potion. I expect you not to start whining about your finger being cut,'' Snape pulled out a bottle with a red-purpleish liquid. Harry wrinkled his nose, was it a red cabbage juice?

The boy was somewhat taken by surprise the teacher actually bothered to explain what he was about to do this time. He stretched out his hand and waited for a brief pain in his index finger. As Snape had made a small cut in student's finger, Harry watched the drop fall into the bottle. At this point he wasn't surprised that nothing happened – the potion still looked rather red-cabbage-juicy. Judging by the look on Snape's face, the former spy wasn't surprised by the outcome as well.

''Well, Potter, I have to admit – you possess a remarkable talent regarding getting yourself in trouble,'' the Potions Master huffed. ''No doubt you take it after your father,'' he added venomously.

Harry shrugged. Maybe few days ago he would have argued with Snape over the slander of James Potter's name. Or maybe it was wishful thinking, maybe he wouldn't – even though his patronus was a stag, like his dad's, his connection to his dad had somewhat weakened when he'd learnt his dad had been a bully. The information had also stained his relationship with Sirius and Lupin. Maybe some things were never meant to be discovered. ''I guess I do,'' he said non-commitally.

Snape grumbled. ''Be assured the staff is doing everything in our power to help you, Potter. Even though you claim you don't know what caused the curse, we are going to find it out and cure it. And then I am going to make sure you are not allowed to take a Potions N.E.W.T. Merlin knows what will you get yourself into once you become an Auror apprentice,'' the teacher waited a few seconds for a response. Having received none, he grimaced and walked away.

---

Minerva eyed Severus scrutinisingly during the weekly meeting. ''Sweet Merlin, do you sleep at all?''

Poppy cleared her throat. ''I've been telling him he's working too hard, but it's like talking to a brick wall.''

''Yes, I have, Minerva.'' Going three days in a row with no sleep, only drinking the energising potion, then sleeping for five hours and going another three days without sleep might not have been the healthiest practice, but it wasn't anything he hadn't done before. ''May we return to the subject? So, as I was saying, my best lead are the spells guarding the castle.''

''Which one, Snape? There are multiple spells guarding the school,'' Jocasta pointed out.

''One of the original ones, created by the Founders themselves. The medieval scripts, if we may rely on them, indicate the Founders have designed a spell to inflict a curse on anyone trying to penetrate into the walls in an act against the wizardkind.''

''Potter has never done anything to harm Hogwarts or the wizardkind. On the contrary, he had saved the school and the wixen,'' Minerva reminded. ''Why would such a curse have befallen him?''

Severus knew the question would eventually present itself. Once he'd heard about the curse mentioned in the poem, he had asked it himself as well. The answer had arrived quickly. For days Severus had mulled over disclosing his reasoning to his colleagues. The war was over, yet it didn't feel right to let them know. ''We must not forget about the connection between Potter and the Dark Lord at the time,'' he explained shortly, not wanting to lay his cards on the table just yet.

Jocasta raised her eyebrow. ''So you want to tell us the curse was somehow misguided and hit Potter instead of Voldemort?''

''I was merely saying we should take such an eventuality into consideration,'' Severus spoke calmly.

Poppy furrowed her forehead, trying to digest what was told. ''The battle took place over six months ago. That's a lot for a duration of curse, keeping in mind Potter started showing symptoms only recently. However,'' at this point the matron was thinking aloud. ''We know the curse was designed not to be easily identified. There are known cases of curses who have surfaced years after having been cast. And if the curse truly was created by the Founders, there are potentially no limits to its potency.''

''What the scripts say about the curse, Severus?'' Minerva offered the man her entire attention.

Severus clipped his hands behind his back. ''The scripts are vague in description. To quote a passage from the Song of the Four Founders:

by the virtue of Gryffindor's bravery,

to bring doom upon the insidious treachery,

a curse onto those who dare

raise their hand against the walls

their life shall be as a mare,

their doomed fate could not be worse

O! you poor souls

who cowardly your own kind have torn

it is true what it is said

you had better never been born.''

Jocasta wordlessly moved her mouth to the rhythm of the poem. When Severus finished, she spoke aloud, yet absent-mindedly, as if she was lost in thought. ''And the brightest amongst the wixen kind/have made up their brilliant mind:/to forbid Apparition/Ravenclaw's wit,/to keep muggles astray/Slytherin's deceit,/to give creatures their way/Hufflepuffs' kindness,/by the virtue of Gryffindor's bravery,/to bring doom upon the insidious treachery,/a curse onto those who dare/raise their hand against the walls/their life shall be as a mare,/their doomed fate could not be worse/O! you poor souls/who cowardly your own kind have torn/it is true what it is said/you had better never been born.''

Minerva narrowed her eyes at the woman. ''You know that poem, Jocasta?''

The retired Auror blinked, focusing her gaze on the Headmistress. ''The passage used to be recited during the Auror appointment ceremony a long time ago, even before my times. I come from a family of Aurors,'' she explained. ''My parents made me recite the passage. You can imagine how deeply disappointed they were when the Ministry changed the ceremony protocol and removed the poem.''

''Interesting discovery. Does it bring us any closer to solving the problem?'' Minerva's gaze wondered from Jocasta to Severus.

''I have yet to find a text on removing the curse. Regretfully, I haven't even encountered a reading that would name the curse,'' Severus said.

''Certainly it doesn't match any curse known to me. I regret to say it, but I think it's the high time we moved Potter to St. Mungo's,'' Poppy decided firmly.

Severus nodded. No doubt the curse was growing in strength. He hated to see those mischievous green eyes so similar to the ones he kept in the memory of his childhood become more and more apathetic.

Chapter Text

''Mione, give it a rest!'' Ron pleaded when his girlfriend grabbed a seventh tome of a thick book.

Hermione sat down huffing loudly. ''You'd better stop whining and lend me a hand, Ronald!''

''But what exactly are you trying to achieve?'' Ron asked tiredly. ''Look we all know you are super smart, but do you think you'll figure out on your own something McGonagall, Snape and Pomfrey haven't yet?''

Hermione at this point was anxiously skimming through the tome. ''No, not on my own if you help me.''

Ginny covered her mouth and looked away. ''I'm sure the Mungo's healers will find out what is wrong with Harry.''

''McGonagall and the rest know what they are facing requires better equipment and people with more expertise in the field of magical disease if they decided to sent Harry to St. Mungo's. Maybe they need a gentle push in the right direction?'' Hermione bit her finger.

''The healers at St. Mungo's are as competent as one could get. They cured our dad,'' Ginny reasoned, but rather to calm herself down than to ease her friend's worries.

''Yeah! And Katie,'' Ron seconded his sister.

Hermione tapped her finger against the desk. ''But you can't say Snape isn't an expert in the area of curses. And O'Cathail is a retired Auror, and if they haven't already figured it out-''

''Hermione, you're overthinking it,'' Ron said, but he really didn't look sold on his own words.

''So you think we should sit with our arms crossed and hope for the best?!'' Hermione angrily slammed the book.

''Hermione!'' Ron hissed whispering. ''You're gonna attract the wraith.''

''Ugh, it's just-why they are not telling us anything?!''

''You're right – they should keep us informed. We're Harry's family!'' Ginny scoffed. ''And we know nothing.''

'Yeah, and so what? We can't just walk in and ask Snape about the curse,'' Ron pointed out.

Ginny's eyes widened with a spark of mischief shining in them. ''Guys, I think I've got an idea''.

''Careful how you walk!'' Ginny hissed. ''You stepped on my toe.''

''It wasn't my idea to use Harry's cloak,'' Ron huffed, squished between his sister and his girlfriend.

''Well, we aren't eleven-year-olds anymore,'' Hermione pointed out. ''We should've probably taken that into consideration,'' she said looking down at their bent knees. It was rather difficult to walk half-bent in a group of three under a cloak without making any part of anyone's body visible.

''Oh, then leave and I'll handle it myself,'' Ginny whispered angrily.

''Shhh!'' Hermione ordered as they heard a clack of elderly woman shoes against the stone floor.

Ron tilted his head curiously. ''Sounds like aunt Muriel, doesn't it?'' The girls shot him a glare and his raised his hands to his chest in a mock-surrender. He was about to turn around to see who was walking, but Hermione's hand prevented him from doing so.

''No,'' Hermione soundlessly mouthed.

Jocasta O'Cathail walked down the dungeon with a vigor that rather contrasted her age, ignorant to the presence of her students. Her grey hair was pulled back into a practical bun, no doubt a habit from her Auror times.

''Is seems that we're not the only ones to pay the git a visit today,'' Ron noted.

''This is our chance,'' Ginny gestured at the DADA teacher's direction and the trio carefully tip-toed after the woman.

O'Cathail knocked on the door of the Potions Master's office, which was followed by unmistakable growl stating ''Come in''.

The retired Auror opened the door and as she was about to begin closing it, Hermione wordlessly cast a slowing-down spell on it and the students sneaked into the office. They were welcomed by the sight of Snape sitting at his desk, drowning in so many books he put Hermione's best efforts to shame.

''O'Cathail, to what do I owe the pleasure?'' Snape's silky voice filled the room.

''I think you should call Argus to take a look at your door,'' she said pulling the doorknob of the slowed-down door. ''It would appear the hinges are in a dire need of oiling.''

''Do they now?'' Snape eyed the door cautiously. ''They were perfectly intact last time I walked in.''

Now it was O'Cathail's turn at sceptical look. ''And when that was if I may ask? Do you ever leave this... lair?'' she said with disgust and Ron covered his mouth to muffle his snort. ''I suppose I should be appreciative of your dedication, inspite of how dysfunctional it is. However, I feel obliged to remind you Potter is mine responsibility, not yours. I val-''

''He is precisely my darned responsibility!'' Snape snapped, his black eyes appeared to be wild yet unreadable. The teenagers felt blood draining from their faces.

The retired Auror took a step towards Potions Master's desk and lifted a book from a heap, apparently unmoved by the sudden outburst of her colleague. ''How long do you think you can carry on like that?'' she shook the book.

Snape took the book from her hand with a sharp movement of his hand and put it back. He looked like a man who had forgotten the meaning of sleep. He definitely looked more put together in classes. ''Exactly as long as is required,'' he said harshly. ''Which hopefully won't be much longer. I think I found the answer as to what has befallen your precious saviour of the wizardkind. And now that I have named the problem at hand, I have started looking for the means of banishing it.''

O'Cathail intertwined her fingers on her abdomen. ''I am glad to hear that. Actually,'' she said pulling a chair for herself closer, making its legs unpleasantly creak against the floor. ''I have a thesis on my own and I wanted to discuss it with you. I'm curious how similar our diagnoses are, Snape. I think you were right that the Song of the Four Founders was a crucial clue. To think I've dedicated my life to the Auror department and no one ever mentioned that curse even though the poem used to be the major part of the appointment ceremony for centuries!'' she scoffed.

''If we're talking about the same curse, my guess is that it simply had fallen into obscurity. I haven't even come across a text that would mention its name,'' Snape scorned.

O'Cathail crossed her legs. ''And here's where I have an upper hand, Snape. You may have been a spy, but I am a retired Auror with long Auror traditions in my family. Kingsley kindly granted me access to the department's library.''

''I congratulate you, O'Cathail,'' Snape said flatly. ''So, is the Minister aware of our current Potter situation?''

''Before you get a chance to get mad at me, be aware that St. Mungo's had informed him before I even asked for permission to utilise the library.''

''Splendid,'' Snape said unamused.

''Now,'' O'Cathail clapped her hands. ''Back to the main topic-''

Snape carefully raised his hand and put his finger to his lips. His restless eyes were scanning the room. ''I think we have a company. And if my intuition is not failing me, I'm betting on your Gryffindors.''

O'Cathail furrowed her eyebrows and it would appear she would have moved her ears like a dog if she could. ''I think you are right,'' she said getting up. ''We are not alone here.''

The trio exchanged looks in panic. There was no way of running away without revealing their presence. They huddled together in hopes of making themselves smaller and harder to detect.

''Let's cut it short – show yourselves so we don't have to play the game of hide-and-seek,'' O'Cathail said seemingly to the void, but the teenagers had a feeling she could see through the Invisibility Cloak.

Snape theatrically sighed. ''I thought you have learnt thus far that Potter and his friends rarely act reasonable. Trying to knock some sense into them is a futile endeavour.''

Hermione furrowed her eyebrows in anger – how dare Snape suggest she was acting reckless? She was always careful and dutiful. As she was about to take a step forward it was Ron's turn to stop her.

''Whoever you are, don't test my patience,'' O'Cathail said firmly, walking around the office with her hands stretched out, ready to grasp intruders.

Ginny took a step back, but her back hit the wall. Hearing the creak of the floor she cringed at the sound, similarly to her companions.

O'Cathail was surprisingly swift for her age. Her hand found the cloak and pulled it down, revealing three frightened Gryffindors.

''I cannot say I am surprised,'' Snape said in a bored tone.

''I suppose I shouldn't be as well, but I must admit I expected better from my Gryffindors,'' O'Cathail voice was sharp and cutting. ''What are you even doing here?''

''Don't make me laugh, O'Cathail. That is quite obvious – Potter's friends wanted to gather information regarding Potter's state and in their endless wisdom decided to spy on us instead of simply asking. Rather typical for them, it should be noted.''

DADA teacher narrowed her eyes. ''Is that true?''

''You wouldn't tell us anything anyway!'' Ginny protested. ''No one ever does.''

Snape crossed his arms. ''Have it crossed your minds that some things are better left for adults to take care of?''

Ron clenched his fists. ''We are adults, Snape! We have the right to know how Harry is doing!''

''Exactly!'' Hermione seconded her boyfriend. ''We're not children anymore, Professor. We want to hear the truth, not to be constantly assured everything is fine when it's clearly not.''

''Five points from Gryffindor,'' O'Cathail announced coldly.

''Only five for the three of them instead of five per capita?'' Snape shook his head. ''You are too lenient, O'Cathail.''

The retired Auror only glared briefly at the retired spy and returned her attention to the students. ''Now leave and return to the Gryffindor Tower. I'll make sure to check if you went directly to the Tower as ordered,'' O'Cathail intertwined her fingers.

''But what about Harry?'' Hermione asked sheepishly.

O'Cathail furrowed her eyebrows. ''Had you asked me instead of sneaking on us, I would have told you right away, but you have disappointed me. Behave properly and I may reconsider my decision. Now off you go!''

Gryffindors left the office with their heads lowered in shame. As the door closed behind them, Hermione sighed. ''In hindsight, it wasn't the best idea to spy on a conversation of a retired Auror and a retired spy.''

Ginny awkwardly scratched the back of her neck. ''Yeah, but it usually worked for you.''

Ron put his finger to his lips. ''Sh!'' he said putting his ear to the door and waving at the girls to join him. Unfortunately the only thing they heard was 'Muffliato'.

''Damn it, Snape,'' Ron muttered under his breath.

---

The conversation with Jocasta eased Severus' mind a little bit – it appeared they were mostly in agreement with regard to the nature of the curse. However, conclusion of the stage of diagnosis brought another issue – how to find a reversal spell or a cure for the curse so rare and so forgotten. The head of the Gryffindor house promised to look for a solution in the Auror department library, while Severus' job was scouring the Hogwarts library.

Severus was at Poppy's mercy as the Matron was the one to bring news of Potter's well-being. As long as the brat had stayed in the Hospital Wing the Potions Master had had an easy access to him. Naturally, he still could go to St. Mungo's and assess the brat's condition on his own, but somehow he found the idea repulsive. Whenever he considered it, the sight of the birthmark on Potter's arm appeared in Severus mind. The sight that brought forward a revolting suggestion that Lily's son had something in him of Thobias Snape.

And the news weren't too optimistic – healers at St. Mungo's were clueless. According to Poppy they had tried several potions, but none of them had done as little as at least slowing down the curse. While Poppy hadn't mentioned it, Severus had read between the lines that one of the 'cures' probably had worsened the boy's condition. Great, as if Severus needed more troubles.

Severus decided to leave the conversation with the healers to the retired Auror. If they started asking wrong questions Severus might be forced to tell them about Potter having been Dark Lord's horcrux and that was a discussion Severus wanted to avoid. All the more so he had kept the thing away from Minerva, Poppy and Jocasta, and frankly he didn't believe the fact to be a crucial piece of information in regard to finding a cure. Severus sincerely hoped after the talk with Jocasta the healers would be able to come up with a solution quicker than the Hogwarts staff. He was done with Potter and the troubles he attracted. Why couldn't the brat survive at least one damned year at Hogwarts without getting himself in danger?

Nevertheless, Severus didn't cease his own research. The stack of books on his desk wasn't getting any smaller, not to mention the assignments of his students he had to read – after all Potter getting himself cursed was no excuse for a decline in the quality of Severus' classes. Now that Potter's friends had seen him off-duty, the annoying Gryffindors were glancing at him more intrigued than ever and Severus knew it wasn't a well-meant curiosity. The dunderheads had never had any respect for Severus, so there was no harm in the action, but it irritated the teacher.

It was around 3 A.M. when Severus was leaning over a tome dedicated to curse repellents and cures with the only light present in the room being the light of his wand. It must have been at least tenth book on the matter he had read looking for the cure. Severus rubbed his forehead, the answer had to be somewhere there! He felt his hand tremble and exhaled slowly to calm himself down. The sleep deprivation must have been finally getting to him. But the thing Poppy had said the previous day... No, he must not think about it, he decided clenching his fist.

''Severus, St. Mungo's contacted me,'' Poppy had said carefully.

No, Severus closed his eyes, trying to occlude. He had no time for that.

''I'm afraid the curse is much more dangerous than we had initially thought,'' the Matron had spoken calmly.

No, no, no, Severus shook his head, covering his ears even though the sound came from his memory.

''Potter's condition started suddenly detoriorating. Naturally, the most competent witches and wizards are monitoring Potter's state, but I think we shouldn't be lying to each other after everything we've been through-''

No, no, no, Severus kept shaking his head. ''No!'' he breathed heavily. He got up and paced around his office. He eyed the stack of books frantically. The answer had to be somewhere out there. Or maybe he had been looking in the wrong places. He was about to head for the library when he recalled it was closed at this ungodly hour.

Severus sighed and pinched the bridge of his large nose. Minerva was right – he wasn't helping anyone in this state. He needed to face the issue with clarity of mind, which he now clearly lacked. He grabbed a bottle of Dreamless Sleep potion and headed for his bedroom instead.

Thankfully the following day was Saturday, which meant Severus didn't have to get up early for classes and could dedicate his time to the research. Just as he was done with his morning routine a spectral cat appeared in his room.

''I apologise for the early hour, but we need to conduct a meeting in my office,'' the cat spoke with Minerva's voice.

''Naturally, Minevra, I'm on my way,'' Severus nodded. On the outside he kept his composure with trained mastery of a spy, but on the inside his guts twisted. Minerva wouldn't have called a meeting outside their schedule if it was something of lesser importance. And currently there was only one thing of high importance that required Severus' presence.

Severus paced quickly towards the Headmistress' office, his breakfast be damned. He stopped in front of the gargoyle. ''Mandrake,'' he said impatiently and the gargoyle stepped aside, revealing the spiral staircase. Having gotten to the top of the staircase and walked through the door to the office he was met with the sight of three women looking at him. Wonderful, of course he had to be the last person to make it to the meeting.

No one seemed to be offended by his late arrival, though. ''Severus, thank you for arriving promptly. Without further ado, Poppy and I have received an update on Potter. Unfortunately I don't have good news,'' the woman's voice was burdened with worry. ''I'm not going to beat around the bush, we don't have the time for that. Harry is comatose since yesterday evening,'' she inhaled deeply and covered her mouth.

The Matron looked at the Headmistress who was currently rendered speechless. ''The healers took your lead, but this kind of curse is unknown to them. They said they needed more time, but they fear, and I share their assessment, that the kid doesn't have that much time,'' she said carefully glancing sheepishly at Severus as if she was approaching a wild wounded animal. Then she quickly looked away and her gaze landed on Jocasta. ''It's all in your hands now.''

Severus felt his blood pressure speed up, but he managed to keep the stoical facade. ''And how much time does he have?'' his voice was steady and composed, but his muscles tensed.

''It's hard to tell, we don't know how the curse is going to behave in the following days. Until now it has been progressing slowly, but at the current rate? Two weeks if it doesn't get more violent.''

''The curse is clearly tied to Hogwarts. It took on a more aggresive route after Potter had been moved to St. Mungo's. Maybe we should try moving him back here?'' Jocasta suggested.

''I don't know if it is safe to move him in that state,'' Poppy noted.

''It could buy us some more time,'' the DADA teacher reasoned.

''It could also make it even worse,'' Poppy reminded.

Severus stared at the portrait of Albus Dumbledore. ''And what of you? Don't you have anything to say?'' he challenged the portrait. ''Albus kept so many secrets. I know he had confided in you at least some of them. Is Potter not worth of your help once he had served his purpose? Does none of you know anything about the curse that was meant to protect Hogwarts?'' his sight slid through the numerous portraits of the past headmasters, most of which pretended to be asleep. Severus clenched his fist until his knuckles turned white. ''You truly are a waste of space on the wall,'' he said with an honest contempt.

''Severus!'' Minerva rebuked him. ''I'm sure the past headmasters would have helped us had they known the solution.'' She took off her glasses and cleaned them, trying to hide the tremble of her hands. ''How is your research going?''

''I have checked the department library, but neither The Secretive Hogwarts, the only book to mention the name of the Amens, curse nor any other book seems to note any means of countering the curse. However, as Snape had said the curse most likely attacked Potter having been fooled by the connection between Voldemort and the boy. My theory, completely unsupported by any resource, so take it with a grain of salt – is that there isn't one way of fighting the curse. I suspect that the curse is meant to match its victim, similarly to how boggarts work,'' Jocasta explained.

Severus put his colleague's theory through everything he had learnt thus far. ''While I do believe the curse was meant for the Dark Lord,'' he thought aloud. ''Your theory doesn't seem right. I don't think the curse is meant to fit each victim individually. On the contrary, I believe the Founders came up with a curse that was meant to be effective against every individual, at least in theory. But the Dark Lord did something the Founders apparently hadn't taken into consideration – he found a way to make himself immortal even after losing his body,'' he drummed his fingers against the backrest of a chair he was leaning against. ''Therefore the curse couldn't affect the Dark Lord, so it hit another person that in some way matched the Dark Lord.'' A spark of a new idea appeared in his mind and he felt an irresistible urge to follow it. ''Minerva, if you could excuse me, I need to return to my research. Thank you, O'Cathail,'' he bowed politely at the DADA teacher. ''Your observations have been most insightful.''

He returned to the dungeon and dived into the books once more, frantically skimming through thick tomes. The curse couldn't take down the Dark Lord, but it could take down Potter. Or did it? There had to be a reason why the curse showed symptoms after six months after having inflicted the brat. No, they had already discussed this matter – the curse was supposed not to show symptoms until the late stage. Moreover, the Dark Lord had died the same day Potter most likely had been inflicted with the curse.

Severus ignored the rumbling in his stomach – most likely he had not only skipped breakfast but also lunch by now. It could wait. The brat could not, according to Poppy and the healers. Suddenly a knot in his stomach appeared, definitely not caused by hunger. Two weeks or less, that's what Poppy had said. A knot similar to the terror he had felt when he had found out the Dark Lord had decided the prophecy meant Potter's son. But the brat wasn't Potter's son after all, was he? It was high time he stopped fooling himself, the chances of the Bloodline potion being faulty were minuscule. A choked sound escaped his lips and he muffled it with his hand, which was also trembling. He knot turned into a lump in his lungs and he felt like suffocating.

No, he inhaled slowly in an attempt to compose himself, he was stronger than that. He had lived through worse. He had witnessed a gruesome death of his colleague. He had killed his superior against his own will. He would not let emotions get in the way – he couldn't afford the luxury. It was his burden to bear silently. He wasn't allowed to show emotions – the outcome of the war had once depended on hiding them. He couldn't show them nor then nor now nor ever. They were others privilege. 'Why, let the strucken deer go weep/The hart ungalled play/For some must watch, while some must sleep/Thus runs the world away' as had written the muggle playwright.

But if he didn't find the solution in time, and he still was nowhere near finding it, Lily's son was going to die. His own son, he realised with the clarity that scared him. The child he was never supposed to have.

He dug his fingers into his greasy fingers and tugged at them in frustration. Why, why it had to be the brat? Why couldn't the curse have hit Severus instead? God knew Severus deserved is so much more for his sinful life. Maybe it was the punishment for all his wrongs, to witness his child's death. No, his eyes shined with determination, he would not allow that. Even if it was his last deed. For Lily.

He closed his eyes pushing aside all the emotional turmoil. He needed to focus and put the pieces of the puzzle together. The Amens curse. The Dark Lord. The connection between Potter and the Dark Lord. The horcrux. The curse couldn't have affected the Dark Lord, because he had split his soul... He had split it into multiple pieces, so even when one piece was gone, the Dark Lord persisted.

When he left his office, having set his mind on the reading that could bring him closer to the cure, it was already dark outside. Frankly, it wasn't telling much in December when days were so short. The empty, dark corridors of the school were much more informative. The only source of light beside Severus own Lumos-lit wand was a lamp dangling from Flich's hand. Mrs Norris' eyes eerily reflected the light.

What seemed to be an initial sadistic satisfaction on Filch's face morphed into disappointment. ''Oh, it's only you,'' he grumbled.

''Yes, Argus, it's only me,'' Severus' sneer matched the one of the other man.

''I rarely see you patrolling the corridors these days,'' Filch pointed out and it appeared that he wanted to join Severus in his walk down the corridor.

''I can only hope things are going to return to normality soon,'' Severus said flatly, not feeling like talking to the caretaker. Mrs. Norris curiously eyed Severus as if the cat was trying to guess what matters were hurrying him so. ''I would not want to keep you from your duty, Argus,'' he added more forcefully when it became obvious the man didn't take the cue.

Filch grimaced distastefully and nodded. ''Yes, there might a student out of bed somewhere out there,'' he turned around and spoke quieter but not quiet enough to prevent Severus from overhearing. ''Let's go, my sweet, it would appear we are not welcome in this company.''

Severus walked past the gargoyle and up the stone spiral staircase. The Headmistress office was currently unoccupied. He didn't want to bother the woman, Merlin knew she had enough worries on her head. Moreover, he was almost certain she wouldn't mind if Severus borrowed some books.

He he gently approached the bookshelf. Even in the dim light is his wand his eyes quickly spied the book with its cover made of black worn out leather. He carefully took the book from the bookshelf and read the table of contents, even though he had already held the book in his hands. Hopefully it would give him the answers he needed.

''My word, Severus, so you have started-'' the portrait of Albus Dumbledore observed him with its kind eyes.

Severus forcefully closed the book, interrupting the portrait with an action that usually wasn't that loud. ''Don't,'' he grimaced, baring his crooked teeth at the portrait. ''You have no right.''

But the portrait wasn't taken aback by the display of hostility. On the contrary, it remained irritatingly calm and friendly. For a fraction of a second Severus fantasised about treating it with a slicing curse. ''Haven't you requested my assistance earlier today?''

''I have and you had nothing to say. It would be wiser to keep your silence now,'' Severus' voice was cutting.

The kind eyes twinkled at him from behind the half-moon glasses. ''I pity the circumstances have forced you to hide the best part of you, Severus. Now that the war is over you don't have to wear that mask anymore. There is no shame in caring, my boy. The dedication you have for Li-''

''I have warned you. He had no right to speak of those things and neither have you,'' Severus seethed and left the office with the book in tow before he had the chance to do something he was about to regret later.

---

On Wednesday Severus walked in, briefly eyeing the boy lying in a hospital bed. The plan was risky, but with each passing day the news of the brat's condition grew only worse and worse. There was no way he was going to come up with a better solution in a reasonable time. As far as he was concerned Jocasta was still franctically looking for any countermeasure against the curse, miles behind Severus. Time was running out. It was his duty to act while they still had it.

His sight landed on a nurse, drawing her attention.

''It's nice of you to come and visit him,'' the witch said, sadness clear in her eyes. ''I'm not sure if he'll be able to hear you, but,'' she lowered her voice. ''If you have anything to say, do it now, he doesn't have much time left, Snape. Such a shame, he's still a child,'' she sighed. ''And to think he defeated Voldemort himself only to die months later due to a curse.''

Snape clipped his hands behind his back. ''On that matter, I came here to see what can I do to prevent that eventuality.''

''Healers have tried nearly everything, but if you think you can help him, do it,'' her voice was firm as if Snape were her subordinate.

The man nodded. ''I will. However I've got one request to make – may Mr. Potter and me be left alone for the time of the treatment?'' paradoxically his voice inspite of being silky and rather soft, was equally demanding as the nurse'.

Woman's eyes widened at the strange request, but seeing that Snape wasn't going to change his mind she yielded. ''I really shouldn't allow that, but you can't hurt him more than he's already hurt. Alright, I agree,'' she said unwillingly, visibly struggling to let the man break the hospital rules. ''Let me know when you are finished. I wish you the best of luck,'' her eyes took a kinder shape as she spoke the last sentence.

Only when the door was closed, leaving only two people in the room, Severus took a chair, put it by Potter's side and sat down. Now he dared to look at the boy more closely. He'd always seen James in the boy, except for his, now closed, eyes. During those last few months he began to see some of his own qualities in the child. Maybe it was foolish endeavour, maybe he wanted to convince himself of his fatherhood for... What for exactly? To have one last victory over his old enemy?

Severus exhaled slowly and hesitatly took the boy's hand. It was cold to the touch, colder than the last time he had examined the boy. He did not bother rolling up Harry's sleeve. He did not want to see the birthmark on Gryffindor's upper arm once again, so similar to the one that had adorned Thobias Snape's arm. The man closed his eyes and lowered his head. He had to try to save this stupid child for Lily's sake, no matter the cost. Maybe it was the reason why he had survived the war – to save Potter one last time.

Severus shook his head as if it would repel doubts lingering in his mind. There was no time to look for alternatives. This was the only way, consequences be damned.

---

Snape stumbled out of the the fireplace in his office pale-faced, with his hair more unkept than usual and running out of breath. He steadied himself against the stone frame of the fireplace and with the remaining energy he cast a Muffliato before his knees gave way. He landed on them and only thanks to his quick reflexes even in this weakened state his hands found their way to meet the ground before his face did. He panted heavily as his shoulders shook. His long greasy hair slid down his shoulders, concealing his face. With each ragged exhale the sound that came out of his mouth was more and more harsh. Each pained sigh was getting louder, slowly turning into scream.

Severus screamed for the thorn in his soul residing there for years, now only pushed deeper into the wound. The thorn he thought he'd learnt to ignore by now. He screamed for his powerlessness and for the things he'd been forced to do against his will. He screamed for his ignited anger at the stupid, foolish, imbecile brat that by all means was supposed to be his enemy's son. He screamed for his endless loathing for himself, for having brought death upon Lily and nearly having brought death upon his own child unbeknownst to him. For having survived the damned war. Severus Snape screamed.

And he sobbed. Like he hadn't since he found out about Lily's death. He sobbed and he felt like he was about to choke on his own sobs. ''I'm sorry, Lily,'' he croaked. He wouldn't ask for forgiveness. He was well aware he didn't deserve it. His regret would never undo any of his deeds. It would never bring Lily back. I wouldn't remove the Dark Mark from his skin. ''I wish there was another way.''

Finally his arms grew tired as well and Severus chest fell the ground. As his head rested on the floor its coolness soothed his anguish. He just lay there, a pathetic lump of black robes and black hair, not finding the strength nor the will to get up.

The creak of the door encouraged him to look up.

''My goodness, Severus, what happened?'' having spotted her colleague on the floor with his wand cast carelessly aside, Minerva rushed to his side.

''I did exactly what you told me not to do,'' he sneered. ''I overexerted myself,'' he added seeing the puzzled expression on Minerva's face.

Helping the Potions Master get to his feet, the Headmistress asked. ''Shouldn't you go and see Poppy, Severus?''

''I am certain Poppy has more pushing matters to attend,'' he sighed tiredly sitting in the chair.

Minerva walked to the shelves and picked up a potion. ''I may not be a Potions Mistress, but I know a thing or two,'' she smiled softly handing her colleague a bottle. The witch took a sit opposite of Severus as he downed the potion. ''Whatever you have done to get yourself into this state, it was effective. Saint Mungo's healers contacted me – they say Harry will recover. You truly are one of the most knowledgeable wizards of our times on the matter of curses. Oh, what would we do without you?''

Severus closed his eyes and tilted his head backwards, resting it against the chair's backrest. ''I will not try to deny it. That is why I should be teaching DADA instead of Potions.''

A smirk crept upon Minerva's lips. ''Well, Severus, unfortunately, you also happen to be one of the most skilled Potioneers of our times.''

''The torment of a renaissance man will never cease, so it seems.''

Chapter Text

Harry felt like he was floating in nothingness, indifferent to the world. Indifferent even to his own existence. He was surrounded by some unidentified sort of blackness. He was cold and normally it would have bothered him, but now he didn't even perceive it as something unpleasant. It seemed to him as if the coldness flowed through and out of his body, leaving him in this state of comfortable impassiveness. It was probably the only the only stimulus his sense of touch currently registered – Harry wasn't even sure if he was able to feel his body at all. And it didn't bother him.

The only other thing his body registered from the outside world was some murmur. The sound was more akin to the background static noise, undisturbing his apathy. And there he was, still floating calmly, not sure if it was real, not sure if he was alive and absolutely unconcerned by any eventuality.

The murmur grew a bit louder as if its source came closer. Harry continued to be indifferent to the sound. But the sound grew louder and louder.

''...Ooompan...'' the noise sounded like it tried to make sense and failed at the task spectacularly.

''Meeeh... searumpo...'' sounds gradually started forming into words. Kinda.

''Meeeh...ssaest... aaarummmpo...'' the sound monotonously went on without interrupting the floating sensation.

''Annissaessst... animpo...'' for the first time in what Harry perceived to be a century he felt annoyed. The noise sounded awfully like words, yet he couldn't make any sense of them.

''Tecce... merumpo...'' Harry decided to ignore the murmur.

''Twwwaes,'' the pattern of chant changed, not giving Harry a chance at deciphering the first one. For the second time since the murmur had started Harry felt annoyance. ''...Ahsea-am...'' the noise didn't seem to care if it interrupted Harry's comfortable numbness.

''Accime...'' at this point the murmur was alike an annoying fly or a mosquito buzzing near his ear.

''Accipe...'' the murmur suggested gently and Harry realised he had actually heard that word before.

''Accipe,'' the sound was gathering more pronounced shape like it had decided what it needs to be.

''Accipe,'' the sound – no, a voice, a human voice – repeated.

''Accipe,'' the voice was getting more pressing and Harry put all of his willpower into ignoring it.

''Accipe,'' the voice demanded and it was becoming clear it would not give up until Harry was persuaded to follow its request. Where had he heard that silky voice?

''Accipe!'' Harry knew that the voice was familiar.

''Accipio,'' Harry thought, having a feeling it was the correct way to respond to the demand.

''Accipe!''

''Accipio!'' Harry thought angrily in a mental equivalent of 'alright, alright, I'll do as you want, just leave me alone'.

''Accipe!''

''Accipio!'' how many times the voice was going to ask him the same thing? The had answered, hadn't he?

And then something unexpected happened – the coldness flowing through his body was becoming warmer. And warmer. It reminded Harry of cold water in a bathtub steadily increasing its temperature once hot water started pouring. The warm sensation didn't only flow in and out of his body, it stayed and circulated inside. It felt unusual and oddly nice, like he was reclaiming sense in a numb limb. It felt like a new lifeforce was entering his body and encouraging him to live, to sing, to laugh. It felt protective like a warm blanket.

Harry hesistantly blinked, having woken up from a strange dream. He wanted to raise his head to get a better look at the black blur few meters away from him, but he didn't find the strength to move his neck muscles. His second thought was to grab his glasses to get the clarity of vision, alas, his arm wouldn't listen either.

Black blur unsteadily left the room, stopping for a few seconds in the doorframe and Harry was embraced by the gentle arms of Morpheus.

---

''Sweet Merlin! You are awake, Potter!'' a nurse was pleasantly surprised.

Harry wrinkled his nose, trying to focus on woman's face. He checked if he was able to reach for his glasses and this time his body followed his will. Drowsily he put on his glasses, nearly sticking a temple tip into his eye.

''Marvellous!'' Harry was surprised the nurse was that happy to see him awake. ''Oh, we almost lost our hopes. St. Mungo's really could get a use of a man like Snape.''

''Snape?'' Harry furrowed his eyebrows. His brain felt as if somebody had cast a slowing-down spell on it. The weird sensation in his gut didn't make gathering his thoughts any easier. ''Snape was here?''

''Naturally,'' the nurse explained calmly. ''He was the one to help you, child.''

''Oh,'' was the only word his mind was currently able to process. Yes, Snape made sense, he must have been that black blur.

With a wave of her wand the nurse made a glass of water appear in her hand. ''Here,'' she helped Harry sit up. ''You must be parched,'' she chuckled softly when Harry downed the glass. He didn't even realise he had been this thirsty. ''You should rest,'' she took the glass from Harry's hand. ''I'll call a healer.''

Harry lay back and closed his eyes, hoping the lack of light would make it easier for him to concentrate. Some kind of shapeless feeling of something being off tickled his stomach.

The next day Harry's friends were granted permission to see him. Harry's face lit up with a brightest smile when he spotted his friends in the doorway. ''Guys!''

''Harry!'' the three Gryffindors yelled happily. Ginny immediately latched herself at her boyfriend, but Hermione and Ron weren't far behind as soon enough they locked Harry in a tight embrace.

''We were so worried about you,'' Ginny squeezed Harry's by his neck, making the boy wonder for a second if she was going to choke him.

''How are you, mate?'' Ron asked.

''We've tried to gather information-'' Hermione started explaining and Harry didn't know whom should he hug back first.

''Are you alright, Harry? You're still quite pale,'' Ginny said worriedly.

''Guys! Guys!'' Harry laughed. ''Relax!'' Seeing their confused expressions, he elaborated. ''I'm feeling much better already, don't worry. I just can't hold three simultaneous conversations!''

''Oh, that's a relief!'' the concern left Hermione's features. ''As I was saying,'' Ron rolled his eyes, not finding the courage to interrupt his girlfriend. ''When you were moved to St. Mungo's we tried to find out what was wrong with you-''

''They wouldn't even let us visit you,'' Ginny complained. Harry felt a pang of guilt in his chest for having refused visits from his friends when asked if he was willing to take visitors. It was hard to explain, but back then it had felt too bothersome. Apparently the hospital staff hadn't told his friends it had been Harry who turned them away. As much as he knew he shouldn't lie to his friends, he preferred it stayed that way.

''Yeah, so we sneaked to Snape's office-'' Ron cut in, not wanting to be left out from the conversation.

''You what?'' Harry snorted, knowing well how the story ended. In hindsight he could see why spying on the spy had never worked out.

''Oi, let me finish!'' Ron made an offended face. ''Besides, it was Ginny's idea. Anyways, O'Cathail was there too and they discussed the curse, but we were kicked out before they got to any useful information.''

''However,'' Hermione said with a trademark know-it-all expression painted all over her face. ''They mentioned the Song of The Four Founders. O'Cathail said it was their main lead, so we tried to investigate it further. Unfortunately, the poem is barely even mentioned in Hogwarts, A History,'' she made a disappointed face. ''We found the poem itself in the library, but no name of the curse. O'Cathail said she had only found it in the Auror department library, but well, we don't have the access to the library.''

''Okay...'' Harry tried to sort the influx of new information. ''So what was wrong with me?''

''Based on the Song of The Four Founders and the credit Snape and O'Cathail gave it, you had fallen a victim to a curse created by Godric Gryffindor himself,'' Hermione voice was dead serious.

Harry furrowed his eyebrows. ''Gryffindor has created a curse?''

Ginny shrugged. ''Yeah, apparently it is supposed to fend off the enemies of Hogwarts.''

''I am not an enemy of Hogwarts!'' Harry protested offended by the suggestion.

Ron made a face at his friend. ''Tell it to the castle, mate.''

Harry fell silent for a moment, digesting what he had heard.

Ginny softly squeezed his shoulder. ''Are you sure you are alright, Harry?''

''Yeah, don't worry,'' Harry waved his hand dismissively out of habit. ''It's just, uh...''

''It's what?'' Hermione observed him studiously.

Harry exhaled in defeat. ''Since I've woken up I'm having this odd sensation that something isn't right. I-ah, I don't know how to describe it,'' he admitted in defeat.

Ron's face suddenly went pale. ''Do you think-you think that,'' he lowered his voice. ''That You-Know-Who is back?''

''What?!'' Harry exclaimed, half-shocked, half-amused, absent-mindedly reaching out to touch the scar on his forehead. ''No! Voldemort isn't coming back, Ron!'' Ron let out a deep breath, relaxing a bit. ''That feeling, I know it's not serious, but it's not right. I don't even know what is wrong, it's just, uh, something,'' he cringed at how uncoordinated his own words came out.

''I think you simply need to give yourself time to recover, Harry. After all, you were attacked by a mighty curse,'' Hermione reasoned. ''It's to be expected for you to feel a little bit off.''

Harry bit his lower lip, recalling his previous train of thought. ''If the curse is tied to Hogwarts, do you think I'll be able to return to school?''

''McGonagall said she was looking forward to your return from St. Mungo's, so I guess we can assume it's safe,'' Ginny softly rubbed his arm.

---

Severus woke up to fatigue in every single fiber of his body. Nevertheless, he forced himself to get up and prepare for the day. At least it seemed that he would no longer have to deal with sick and dying Potter and that was a great improvement in his schedule. Putting on his robes he glanced at the clock and grimaced. His morning routine was already taking him longer than usual. He Accio'ed the keys to his quaters, even though he was aware he should be careful with usage of magic in the next few days, and rushed for the breakfast.

In the Great Hall he was faced once again with the irritable glances of admiration on the faces of his colleagues.

Hagrid didn't even try to stop himself from showing his gratitude to the full extend, hugging the Potions Master tightly before he got the chance at sitting at the table. ''I don' wanna think what woulda happen ter Harry if not fer yeh,'' the half-giant cried.

''I was simply performing my duty, Rubeus,'' Severus spoke calmly, waiting for the half-giant to release him.

The most uncomfortable of all were the looks he received from O'Cathail. With a trained mastery he pretended not to notice them, offering his colleague a pitcher of coffee as if the yesterday's event had never taken place. If anyone had any idea what impossible choice Severus had made, it was the retired Auror with her Auror department's library privileges.

''How are you holding up, Severus?'' Minerva watched her colleague's features. ''You look rather pale.''

''I am always pale, thank you for your concern, Minerva,'' Severus said flatly.

The Headmistress wasn't going to give up so easily. She put her hand on top of his forearm. ''I know that, Severus. Let's not forget yesterday you didn't look that well and I must point out you do not look well today. Are you sure you don't want to take a day off?''

''I'm good. I have not taken a day off for a respite ever since I began my work at Hogwarts,'' Severus said matter-of-factly.

''Maybe you should consider it then,'' Filius cut in. ''No one is going to hold it against you, Severus. We all appreciate your hard work,'' the short teacher assured.

Minerva patted Severus' hand lightly. ''I think you should listen to Filius,'' she smiled gently.

''I truly am appreciative of your support, but what is going to make me feel better is the return to the routine,'' Severus said, catching a sight of three Gryffindors curiously glancing at him. Brats.

Just as the breakfast time was running out, Hagrid excused himself and left for his hut to prepare for the classes. Severus put his utensils neatly on the plate and got up, and so did Pomona, who had to reach the greenhouse on time. Little did students know the distances between classrooms made it difficult to be punctual for teachers as well, especially after the meals. Severus took a few steps towards the exit before the darkness claimed him.

''Severus!'' Minerva ran to her colleague, who fell to the floor with a loud thud. ''Severus!'' she shook him by his shoulders. ''Filius, call Poppy,'' he ordered, while turning the Potions Master from his stomach to his back. ''Severus!''

The former spy hissed and raised his hand to rub his forehead. His black eyes hazily scanned his surroundings. ''Sss... whah?''

Minerva put her hands on his shoulders, steadying him. ''Don't get up, Poppy will be here in a minute,'' she said softly, yet authoritatively.

''Don' need Poppy... mmm fine,'' Severus slurred.

''Uhuh,'' Minerva shot him an unamused look. ''Right as rain.''

''There's no need to be that coarse, Severus. You know I'm trying to help you,'' Poppy rebuked the Potions Master as he sat on the examination bed in the Hospital Wing with the most scornful expression on his face.

''And I have told you countless times I am doing alright,'' he sneered crossing his arms.

''Yes, because passing out in front of everyone is clearly a sign of good health,'' the Matron scoffed, while analysing the examination results.

''Would you prefer it if I passed out in a more secluded place than the Great Hall?'' Severus asked dryly, but upon seeing the look on Poppy's face he added. ''It would appear the spell I had performed on Potter the other day happened to be much more energy consuming than I had initially thought.''

The door to the Hospital Wing opened with a creak. Minerva's emerald robe billowed after her – a sign of her distress. ''So, how is he?'' she asked, her gaze piercing Severus.

''You've got an excellent timing, Minerva – we were just finishing. Right now it looks that Severus' magic is depleted. Luckily I've got a remedy for that,'' Poppy reached out for her medical equipment bag. ''Here,'' she handed Severus a bar of bitter chocolate. ''It should return to normal in few days. Furthermore, Severus' body is fatigued. I recommend getting a good rest,'' she smiled at the dour Potions Master.

''Thank you, Poppy,'' Severus said stiffly.

''Yes, thank you, Poppy,'' Minerva nodded. ''As for you, Severus, you are taking a sick leave.''

''With all due respect-'' Severus was about to argue, but the Headmistress interrupted him.

''This was not an offer, Severus,'' Minerva said harshly. ''As your superior I order you to take a week off. Do you have any idea what could have happened if you had fainted during Potions?''

Severus drummed his long fingers against the bar of chocolate. ''Peace, Minerva. You win. If I may, I would prefer to stay in my quaters instead of the Hospital Wing.'' Merlin knew he wasn't going to get trapped in the Hospital Wing like he had in May.

Minerva gave the Matron a questioning look and Poppy turned her attention to her patient. ''I see no issue with that. I will put a monitoring spell on you in case your condition worsened.''

''Coward!'' Minerva yelled.

''Coward!'' Potter seconded the Headmistress.

Dumbledore looked at him with eyes full of disgusting pity. ''Severus... please...''

''Traitor!'' Bellatrix wickedly pointed her finger at him.

Lucius and Narcissa looked down at him with contempt painted on their faces. ''We have trusted you... and to think we have made you our son's godfather!''

He heard a cruel, mocking laughter. ''Please, no,'' he shook his head. ''No, Lily, please...''

A smirk appeared on Lily's face. The one that she had worn when James had bullied him on that fateful day. ''You think you are redeemable, Sev?''

Severus was crouching on the floor, his clenched fists touching the ground. ''No, Lily...'' he choked on his own sob. ''I don't-I...''

''Coward!'' Minerva repeated.

''Your dirty, stained soul...'' Lily looked at him hatefully and her eyes, her beautiul green eyes were so terribly devoid of life.

''Coward!'' Potter spat at him.

''Snivellus...'' James Potter sing-songed with a sadistical pleasure.

''Look at me, Severus! Look what have you done!'' Lily urged.

''Traitor!'' Sybill said with a trembling voice and pointed at him with her equally trembling finger.

''Mudblood!'' Amycus Carrow sneered.

Severus looked around, but there was no way out. Faces were rotating like the spinning room in the Ministry. Severus with a great fright realised he couldn't quell the panic and terror arising in him. He panted in an attempt to catch a breath. Even closing his eyes was of no use.

''Snivellus!'' Sirius Black mocked.

''Do you have any idea what have you done?!'' Jocasta O'Cathail accused.

''Severus...'' there was a snake-like hiss in the way his name was spoken. The Potions Master turned around to meet a pair of inhumanly red eyes. In the corner of his vision he spotted a werewolf and he tried to step back while crouching. Instead he fell on his butt. A rat bared its teeth at him. ''Nagini... kill!'' the Dark Lord ordered and the snake opened her jaw wide, jumping at the spy.

Severus woke up gasping heavily. His nightgown has unpleasantly stuck to his sweaty body. Severus quickly reached for his wand on the night stand and wordlessly Accio'ed a bucket from the bathroom. As soon as his hand grasped the bucket, Severus threw up, his body shaking while he did so. When he felt his stomach had nothing more to get rid of, he put the bucket aside near his bed. He grabbed the first sheet of paper that got into his hands, transfigured it into a handkerchief and wiped his mouth.

''Ugh,'' Severus lay back and closed his eyes, concentrating on controlling his breath. He couldn't recall the last time he had got sick, aside from recovering from Nagini's bite. He simply couldn't have afforded getting sick – as soon as he had sensed incoming disease he had taken appropriate potions. He had forgotten how unpleasant sickness was. He regulated his breath and felt his heartbeat slow down. Soon he fell asleep once more.

A cold hand touched his chest right over his heart. Then it started sliding up and Severus moaned in a protest. The hand ignored the objection and slowly wandered up to his throat, where it stopped. Severus felt its grip steadily growing tighter on his throat and he realised he couldn't draw a breath anymore. Not only that – he couldn't move at all and fight back. The initial panic quickly passed and Severus relaxed, welcoming the thought of his life finally coming to an end. Then the eerily cold hand out of sudden retreated and Severus coughed, inhaling painfully.

''Severus, easy, easy now,'' Poppy put a wet cloath to his feverish forehead.

''Ngah, Pop..agh...'' Severus tried to call her, but his uncoordinated breathing got in the way.

'Shh...'' a hand, a warm hand rubbed his shoulder. ''Don't say anything,'' Minerva whispered soothingly.

Poppy put a bottle to his lips. ''Drink it, it should make you feel better.''

Severus swallowed between coughing fits. His lungs felt like on fire.

''I think we should move you to the Hospital Wing,'' Poppy said carefully.

Severus shook his head. ''No, please. Not the Hos-'' he coughed again and curled like an embryo, uncaring how pathetic he was. He shakily inhaled through his teeth as his entire body shook.

''I'll stay with Severus,'' Minerva offered. ''When the potion should start working?''

''Ideally within half an hour... Are you sure about it, Minerva?''

''Yes,'' the Headmistress nodded. ''I'll call you if he doesn't get better by that time.''

Poppy didn't seem to be too sold on the idea. ''Very well. Here's the potion he needs to be given in case of another attack,'' she took out a bottle with a blue liquid. ''And here's the potion he needs to drink if his temperature doesn't drop within next ten minutes,'' she took out a bottle with an orange potion. ''If anything draws your attention, call me immediately.''

''Naturally,'' Minerva smiled ruefully at the Matron and patted gently Severus' shoulder. ''You are going to be alright, don't worry.''

''If anything-'' Poppy reminded right before leaving Potions Master's quaters.

''Of course, Poppy,'' Minerva assured.

''Don't bother. The thing is, I don't feel like being alive anymore,'' Severus grumbled weakly.

Minerva exhaled, her breath heavy with burden. ''Don't say that,'' she asked with voice tainted with concern. ''You have fought more difficult battles than the one you're fighting right now. You will be alright,'' she said firmly. Severus made a sound of murmur in response, his back still facing his superior. ''And what good would it bring you not being alive anymore?'' she squeezed lightly his shoulder.

''I'm just tired... I have no purpose... have got no...'' Severus wrapped his arms tighter around himself.

''No purpose? What are you even talking about?'' Minerva said outraged. ''Isn't teaching new generations of wizards enough of purpose to you?''

''You know I hate it, Minerva,'' Severus protested.

Minerva rubbed her forehead. Merlin give her strength. ''Stop moping as if you haven't just saved Harry's life, for God's sake. And if that still isn't enough for you, then screw purpose!'' Minerva smirked noticing she managed to draw his attention. ''Isn't life an important purpose on its own?'' Severus shrugged in reply. ''What is it with you?''

''Mens sana in corpore sano,'' Severus said flatly.

''Should I take it then your spirit is unwell?''

''Interpret it as you please.''

''Sweet Merlin, you're such a grouch! Cursed be the day we lose you and your everlasting optimism,'' smug smile danced on Minerva's lips.

Apparently it was enough to make Severus finally turn around to face his interlocutor. ''Are you making fun of me, Minerva?'' he narrowed his eyes.

The Headmistress made a startled and slightly offended face. ''Me? You truly must be feverish.''

Severus scoffed. ''And there I was, thinking you had no sense of humour, Headmistress.''

''I can see you're feeling better already,'' she smiled softly and touched his forehead. ''Thanks Merlin, your temperature has already dropped.'' Severus swatted her hand away. ''Stop behaving like a child. You're absolutely unbearable when you're sick,'' she took off her glasses and cleaned them. ''And what's with your enmity with the Hospital Wing? Merlin! Hadn't I known better I would have thought you were related to Potter.''

''Funny you mention that,'' Severus snorted and with eyes filled with amusement said. ''James Potter and I share a common great-grandfather.''

''Oh, really?'' Minerva looked at her colleague curiously.

''It's a little known fact. I doubt James Potter himself was aware of it. You know how the saying goes, all pure-blood families are related.''

''Huh, I've never heard that Henry Potter had siblings,'' Minerva furrowed her eyebrows trying to recall such a rumour.

''Half-siblings. I should probably add something among the lines of Felix Potter was a womanizer,'' Severus grimaced, trying to sit up.

''Do you require a pain-soothing potion?'' the Headmistress helped him up. ''Better tell me the truth now or I am going to make you stay in the Hospital Wing until Christmas, so help me Lord,'' she threatened.

Severus pinched the bridge of his nose before throwing hands up. ''Calm down, Minerva! You have my word I am already feeling much better. I am not going to drop dead on you.''

''Should I point out not so long ago you were nagging how you didn't want to live anymore?'' Minerva raised her eyebrows and Severus ran his hand down his face. People were so annoying when they dedicated him too much attention.

Chapter Text

''Severus!'' Minerva exclaimed with her arms crossed and a disapproval painted all over her face. ''May I ask what in Merlin's sake you are doing out of your bed?''

The wizard put the book he was holding on the desk at which he was sitting. ''I am indulging myself in reading,'' he deadpanned.

''You could do that in your bed,'' Minerva raised an eyebrow.

''I could,'' Severus affirmed. ''However, I find the activity much more enjoyable in a proper sitting position. Let us not act as if moving by mere few meters is going to kill me, shall we?''

The Headmistress scoffed. ''You act like a child! Should I call Poppy to beat some reason into your stubborn skull?''

''I am sure constant lying in bed can't be good for my wellbeing,'' Severus said with a clear lack of interest in the conversation in his voice as he glanced at the book.

''Only yesterday you looked like you were on the brink of death and now you act like nothing had happened? I have believed you to have a greater instinct for self-preservation.''

Severus pinched the bridge of his nose. He knew he would eventually have to address the proverbial erumpent in the room. He looked his superior in the eye. ''I am sorry you were forced to witness my... emotional outburst, Minerva.'' The last time he had let himself be so vulnerable around other people had been his conversation with Dumbledore following Lily's death. The awareness that the witch he held in a great respect had watched his distress made him uneasy. ''It was out of place.''

''It's the least of my concerns for you, Severus, and you know it. We all have our moments of weakness, so to speak. If it's any consolation, the secret of your softer side is safe with me,'' the Headmistress added with a smirk.

Severus watched the woman and saw no mockery in her features, only honesty. ''I would appreciate it, Minerva,'' he nodded politely at her. ''Since you are here, why don't you take a seat?'' he gestured at the other chair, standing by the wall.

''It took you a moment, Severus,'' the witch remarked as she sat on the chair. ''I rarely see you in such a talkative mood.''

''How else can I gather information about the school if I am confined to the walls of my quaters?'' Severus pointed out.

''Even if you refuse to stay in bed, you shall remain here for the next few days and you are definitely not returning to teaching until the Christmas break,'' Minerva warned.

''And who is going to teach Potions?'' the wizard crossed his arms.

''Don't worry about it – Horace agreed to take your post for a week.'' Minerva watched the unimpressed look on Severus' face. ''I know you have different views on preferred methods of teaching, but Horace is perfectly capable Potions Master. He has taught numerous generations of wizards, yourself included.''

''Yes, but Horace is satisfied with sharing outdated knowledge,'' Severus reminded.

''One lesson of outdated knowledge, as you put it, is not going to hinder the progress your students are making,'' Minerva chuckled slightly. ''As for another subject that might interest you, I have talked to the healers of St. Mungo. They believe, if Potter's recovery keeps going as smoothly as it has, he will be let out for the Christmas break as well.''

''It's been only three days and the boy has been sick for a month. Aren't they too quick in making assumptions?'' Severus said flatly.

Minerva nodded slowly, sighing. ''I hope they are not. Potter's mysterious illness has been stressful for all of us. Merlin knows the boy has suffered enough in his short life.''

''Knowing his record we should expect more such surprises in the future,'' Severus deadpanned, trying to play down the lingering concern he had for the brat. Potter was notoriously awful at Potions and while he was said to excel at DADA (not that Severus shared the view), he tended to rely on two, maybe three spells. Moreover, he had missed entire month of classes and probably was not going to care enough to learn the material on his own. And yet, even if Potter failed all the N.E.W.T.s, the Auror department was most likely going to acceppt him into the training programme with open arms. How could they refuse the saviour of the wizardkind? This could only end in tragedy and once Potter was out of Hogwarts, Severus would not be able to protect him... ''We should be glad Potter is graduating in five months from now.'' The universe truly had come up with one of the most cruel ways to punish Severus.

---

Harry was overjoyed with the daily visits from his friends. However, as soon as Hermione noticed his condition had improved, she arrived with student books in tow and started walking him through the material that had been covered during Transmutation, DADA, Potions, Charms and Herbology, deaf to Harry's, Ron's and Ginny's objections.

On the Friday before the Christmas break Harry was released from the hospital. The sight of Jocasta O'Cathail waiting for him outside his hospital room was humiliating. He didn't need assistance with travelling to Hogwarts via the Floo network, for Merlin's sake!

O'Cathail intertwined her fingers. ''Potter, it is good to see you in better health,'' she greated him.

''Um,'' Harry scratched his head. ''Thank you, ma'am.''

''I believe you will be happy to learn you are not going to classes today. I just hope that your return after the break isn't going to be much of a shock to you.''

''Don't have to worry about that. Hermione will take care of it, I'm sure,'' Harry cringed at the thought of the two weeks break he was most likely going to spend on learning thanks to his friend's courtesy.

The dissatisfaction, however, was not caught by the head of Gryffindor. ''I am glad to hear that. I might even award some points to Gryffindor if you do well on the semestral test in January,'' she approved. ''Potter!''

''Yes?'' Harry narrowed his eyes at the teacher.

''One more thing before we return to Hogwarts. Actually, two more things,'' she amended herself. ''Firstly you are going to head for the Hospital Wing – Madam Pomfrey is going to check on you. If our Matron decides there is no need for you to stay there, the Headmistress expects you in her office. The password is 'diadem'.''

To Harry's dismay O'Cathail didn't leave his side once he stepped out of the fireplace in her office. He knew the way to the Hospital Wing, it wasn't like he was going to pass out or something.

''Potter, you look much better than the last time I saw you,'' Madam Pomfrey watched the teenager closely.

''Yes, I... uh, I feel much better,'' he said awkwardly.

''We'll see about that,'' the Matron spoke a bit harshly. ''Sit down and take off your shirt,'' then she turned her face at the retired Auror. '' Thank you for bringing...'' she hesitated for a moment. ''Potter here.''

''Not a problem at all. Let me know if you spot something out of order about our troublesome student,'' O'Cathail eyed Harry from a corner of her eye.

Madam Pomfrey took out her wand and made with it some movements unknown to Harry. The boy bit the inside of his cheek. The silence made him feel uncomfortable. ''So what was wrong with me?'' he finally asked after few minutes.

''Haven't they told you in St. Mungo's?'' she glanced at him sceptically.

Harry shrugged. ''Well, not much. I think I've learnt more from Hermione than from the healers and nurses.''

''Don't move, Potter,'' the Matron huffed. ''And what do you know?''

''Right. Sorry. So, I was cursed by some ancient curse created by Gryffindor?''

''That's what professor Snape and professor O'Cathail say,'' Madam Pomfrey confirmed.

''But why?'' Harry wrinkled his nose. ''I haven't done anything!''

''We haven't come to a definite answer to that question. The best guess is it had something to do with your connection to Voldemort,'' the Matron visibly forced herself to speak the name. ''I think you should ask professor O'Cathail or professor Snape on the matter. I don't know much. Frankly, Potter, I have never encountered the Amens curse before. All in all, it seems that your body is slightly tired, but otherwise you are good to go. Two weeks of the Christmas break should be enough for you to get back on your feet.''

''Thanks, that's-that's great. So, how exactly I was cured?'' he tilted his head in confusion.

The Matron put her hands on her hips. ''Full of questions, aren't you, Potter?'' she said with an amused smirk. ''Unfortunately I can't answer them to a degree that would sate your curiosity.''

Harry would have preferred meeting with his friends instead of going to the Headmistress office, but he feared he was put on some kind of monitoring list. He wouldn't put it past the Matron or O'Cathail, or Snape for that matter, to start looking for him if he didn't arrive at the office in reasonable time. Additionally, judging by the empty corridors lessons were in session, so he would have to wait for his friends anyway.

He took a deep breath standing in front of the gargoyle. He didn't know he was nervous. He had been to the office countless times. Maybe it was the fact he has never been to the office since McGonagall had been officially appointed a headmistress. Maybe it was the awareness he was going to be the portrait of Albus Dumbledore.

With a pang of shame Harry realised he had zoned out right when O'Cathail told him the password. Why he had to zone out on the most important information? What was it again? Wasn't it one of horcruxes? ''Locket,'' his voice wavered with hesitation. The gargoyle stood still. ''Uh...'' Harry scratched the back of his neck. ''Diadem?'' For a moment Harry had a feeling the gargoyle was making fun of him, but after a second it stepped aside, revealing the spiral staircase.

Harry knocked on the door and walked in. ''You wanted to see me, professor?''

''Yes, please, take a seat, Potter,'' the woman gestured with her wrinkled hand towards the chair on the opposite side of her desk.

Harry briefly glanced at the portrait of the late headmaster, trying not to notice the kind-hearted eyes behind the half-moon glasses.

''Why don't you help yourself to a cookie?'' McGonagall pushed a bowl with cookies with chocolate chips towards the student and Harry didn't find the will to resist the offer. ''I take it that Madam Pomfrey decided not to keep you in the Hospital Wing? How are you feeling, Potter?''

The boy was getting fed up with the recurring question. Logically speaking, he knew people were concerned about him, but how many times he was supposed to tell them he was alright? ''I'm fine,'' he shrugged, chewing the cookie and deliberately avoiding the subject of the unnamed feeling that lingered ever since he had woken up. Knowing how his friends had freaked out, he decided to spare McGonagall the worry. Besides, the feeling was now more subdued, akin to irksome shadow looming over. Only maybe twice or thrice it had felt like a squeeze to his guts. ''Madam Pomfrey says it's OK for me to go.''

''I do not want to overwhelm you with questions, but have you decided if you want to spent the Christmas break in Hogwarts?'' McGonagall's sight was locked on the student.

''Yeah, I think I'm gonna leave for the break,'' Harry said in a manner that suggested he wasn't too attached to his decision. Frankly, he hadn't given much thought to the matter. Ginny and Ron had said he was welcome to spent the break with them in the Burrow, and that was where he was most likely going to spent it.

''Do you require help with packing your possessions? Students are leaving tomorrow,'' the Headmistress reminded.

Harry shook his head, feeling awkward that the woman paid so much attention to him. ''No, I'll, I mean, we – Ginny, Ron and Hermione – we'll get it covered.''

McGonagall nodded. ''Very well. If you change your mind, inform professor O'Cathail. And, Potter, once you get your rest, take the time to thank professor Snape,'' she added on a kinder note.

Harry inwardly cringed at the mention of the Potions Master. He'd heard all about Snape's recent health issues. Well, mostly it had been Ron's nagging that the Potions classes weren't cancelled and Hermione scolding her boyfriend for being selfish. It didn't really take a genius to put two and two together, considering the timing. Whatever Snape had done to cure Harry had probably affected his own well-being. Which he had risked to keep Harry safe... again. ''Yeah, I will, professor,'' Harry nodded.

''You missed entire month worth of lessons,'' McGonagall reminded, for a moment forgetful of the fact she wasn't the head of the Gryffindor anymore. ''And it's not just any year, Potter. It's your seventh year! Maybe you should consider taking extra classes once you recover? You could cover with me the Transmutation material you missed.''

Harry grimaced as if he had picked a lemon jellybean. For a person who claimed she didn't want to fatigue Harry, the Headmistress tackled awfully lot of subjects Harry didn't feel like discussing. He had taken five N.E.W.T.-level classes. Surely McGonagall did not think would be taking extra classes in all five of them! ''That's... uhm, kind offer, professor, but that won't be necessary. Hermione won't give me a rest until I revise all the classes, anyway,'' he chuckled awkwardly.

''Ms. Granger's dedication and loyalty is most commendable, but she's not a teacher. Poor girl is already pushing herself to her limits with all the classes she'd taken,'' McGonagall pitied her student as if she hadn't taken a part in the problem that was Hermione overworking herself.

Harry sighed. ''Yeah, I know, but she's already set her mind and she won't be persuaded otherwise, I'm afraid.''

Harry was excused from the Headmistress' office with a cookie in a hand. While McGonagall had offered him cookies before she became a headmistress, it was still quite unusual for her. Harry had a feeling the affection to candies was somehow connected to the headmaster's post. Or maybe that was how she showed her concern. All the same, Harry wasn't complaining. He turned the cookie in his hand, watching it from both sides and, not too elegantly, shoved it into his mouth, enjoying the small pleasure it brought.

He wasn't exactly sure why he had taken a walk towards the dungeons. It was almost like his legs grew a conscience on their own while his mind drifted off. Perhaps his subconscience had been persuaded by McGonagall's request to thank Snape. But she hadn't hurried Harry to do so. On the other hand, if Harry talked to Snape after the break, the dour git would most likely make a comment on Harry taking his time. Harry stopped in his tracks, hesitant. He could still turn around to go the the Gryffindor Tower and wait for his friends to finish their classes and no one would ever know. But postponing talking to Snape would be rude, even though he was sure Snape was going to say some nasty things about Harry's carelessness, ignoring the fact Harry hadn't done anything to get himself cursed. And Slughorn was somewhere around, taking Snape's classes for a week. The slimy retired Potions Master was a person Harry desired to see even less than the current one. But the corridors were still empty, which meant Slughorn most likely was teaching in the Potions classroom right now.

The boy hesitantly knocked on the Potions Master's office door as if longer contact with the wood would burn his skin. It was ridiculous, he was aware of it. Whatever Harry was going to say, whever he was going to hear couldn't be more embarrassing than handing Snape's memories back to their rightful owner.

''Come in,'' commanded the voice Harry had heard in his strange dream in his sickness.

Harry insecurily pushed the door knob, trying to sneak in without making much noise. Unfortunately, the door creaked showing him no mercy. The boy scrunched his nose at the high-pitched sound. ''Um, ah, good afternoon, professor,'' he addressed a man who was organising potions and ingredients on the shelves.

Snape glanced at him with an unamused expression. ''Potter, I see the St. Mungo's healers became fed up with your antics. Is there something you might require from me?''

Harry swallowed. There was a time he would have talked back, but the knowledge of Snape's dedication chased that urge away. Well, not entirely, as part of Harry still longed for an argument with the teacher.

''No, sir. I just, uh, wanted to thank you... for saving my life. Again,'' Harry added in defeat.

''That's something new for you, Potter – acknowledging others' contribution, isn't it?'' Snape made a clicking sound on the last word and Harry automatically clenched his fists. He had already acknowledged Snape's work by defending him in front of the Wizengamot, hadn't he? ''However, I must admit you are making a progress on the matter,'' the teacher went on. ''Now tell me, Potter, how are you faring?'' Snape did not even make an attempt at hiding the fact he was eyeing the student from his toes to his head, which was made easier by the fact the man was standing on a ladder.

Of course the question had returned once more. ''I'm fine, I guess,'' Harry shrugged non-commitally.

''You guess?'' Snape raised an eyebrow, descending the ladder.

Harry rolled his eyes. ''Yeah, I'm fine, alright, sir?'' he realised he had slightly raised his voice.

''That's all you've got to say, Potter? That you are fine? After nearly succumbing to a curse forgotten by the time?'' Snape seethed and Harry was taken aback by his teacher's intonation. Usually Snape would have yelled at him, words and eyes flaming with pure anger. But now Harry found new undertones is Snape's voice and expression – yes, he was angry, but also kind of worried... like... truly concerned? Harry was most likely reading too much into it.

Harry furrowed his eyebrows. ''What am I supposed to say, sir? I feel much better and I came to thank you for that. What else there is to say?'' A question, a dangerous question about Snape's own well-being started to form at the tip of Harry's tongue.

Snape crossed his arms and observed his student. ''You wish to thank me, Potter? Very well – in the backroom you will find cauldrons that are in a dire need of cleaning.''

''But, sir, I'm excused from classes today!'' Harry argued.

A smirk danced at the edges of Snape's lips. ''I am well aware, Potter. This is not a class in session, nor a detention. You are free to go.''

Harry gritted his teeth. Snape was having fun at his expense. He wanted to leave right away, but it was probably some kind of test. And if Harry refused to clean up the cauldrons, Snape was going to find a way to make him after the break. Maybe even Snape was going to convince McGonagall he would be properly thanked only when Harry spent every Friday in detention until the end of the school year. After all Snape could be devilishly persuasive, having fooled Voldemort for years. Harry could start a fight, but it was a battle he couldn't hope to win. ''Alright, I'll do it, sir,'' he said with a resignation clear in his voice.

For a fraction of second Snape seemed to be startled by the reply he had received. ''Take the desk,'' he waved his hand at the desk on the right side of the office. Then he took his wand and wordlessly Accio'ed the cauldrons. The door of the backroom opened and to Harry's surprise only half of cauldrons stashed in the room landed on his desk. ''Did you think, Potter, I would task you with cleaning ten cauldrons so soon after your discharge from St. Mungo's? The Headmistress would never allow that.''

Harry grimaced at the git's amusement and turned around to focus on the heap in front of him. He grabbed a wire sponge and started scrubbing the nearest cauldron. He frowned in digust when he noticed the insides of the cauldron were covered by mold. Apparently due to Snape's absence no one had spared a thought to the dirty cauldrons. Halfway through the first cauldron, Harry glanced at the Potions Master, who had gone back to meticulously arranging the ingredients on the shelves. The teenager turned back to his desk, huffing. It wasn't fair – it wasn't Harry fault he had become cursed and while Snape had risked his own well-being for the sake of Harry's, he had no right to take it out on Harry.

Every gesture Harry made in an attempt to make it clear he no longer held any grudges against the man eventually rebound on him. Snape's behaviour made no sense to the Gryffindor – the man kept helping Harry only to keep ridiculing him seconds later. Snape had given him the salve for 'Umbrigde-itis' when no one had paid attention to the scars on Harry's hand in two years. He had even offered him extra Potions classes, even though he was just as aware as Harry how poorly their last private lessons had gone. Hermione would probably have been the happiest person on Earth if a teacher offered her extra classes. She would have taken the offer without even batting an eye.

And now she was going to become Harry's own private teacher for the time of the Christmas break. While she was the most talented witch of her time, that much Harry was sure of, it would be naive to think she would be able to teach Harry an entire month worth of material in five subjects in only two weeks. Hermione might even believe Harry was going to catch up with his classmates and maybe if he were Hermione, he would, but Harry was no Hermione. He wasn't a fast learner nor a diligent student.

Harry eyed the former spy once more. Even McGonagall had offered her assistance in catching up with the material. The Headmistress was right about Hermione taking too many duties. Ron was going to think Harry had lost his mind... but maybe it was worth giving a shot? It couldn't possibly go much worse than Occlumency lessons had, after all.

''Professor?'' Harry asked when he reached his third cauldron.

The teacher slowly turned around with an impatient expression. ''What is it now, Potter?''

The unwelcoming look on Snape's face planted a seed of doubt in Harry's mind. Maybe Snape had been willing to offer classes in September, but it was already mid December and Snape was quite obviously aggrieved by the affair with the curse. ''Uh, I was, but um... nevermind,'' he cringed.

''You were what, Potter?'' Snape crossed his arms. ''Just get it out, I am dying to hear what you have to say,'' he said flatly.

Harry fidgeted his fingers. He should have kept his mouth shut. ''I was wondering if, uhm, maybe you could, well, you know, these extra classes? I mean, if I could take them? Uh, sir?''

''Your eloquence is truly stunning, Potter,'' Snape spared his student an unamused glance and Harry found himself wishing the ground would open up and swallow him. ''How curious it only took you nearly dying to consider that perhaps you do require an aid in Potions. I will be honest with you, Potter – taking into account your record I should be doing everything in my power to prevent you from becoming an Auror.''

You needn't have been that honest, Harry thought and clenched his fists, throwing his teacher a challenging look.

''You are reckless and tend to run into danger unprepared. I truly think you would be better off looking for some less life-threatening job. Do not interrupt me, Potter, I have not finished yet,'' Snape added when Harry opened his mouth to protest. ''However, I know you well enough to know nothing I say or do is going to stop you from following your foolish dream. Furthermore, the Auror department is currently understaffed and most likely willing to lower their expectations even if their trainees are going to pay for that decision. In conclusion, yes, I will teach you, Potter.''

''Great!'' Harry said not sure if he had made a right decision.

Snape took a step towards Harry. ''To ensure extra Potions do not end like the Occlumency classes, I want you to follow some rules. Classes are going to take place every Friday 4 P.M. in the Potions classroom. I will not tolerate lack of punctuality. If I tell you to prepare an ingredient in a certain way, you will follow my instructions. If I tell you to stop brewing a potion, you will put out fire and leave your work station. If I decide further cooperation pointless, I shall discontinue classes. Am I clear?''

''Yes, sir,'' Harry nodded, growing to regret his decision even more with each Snape's word. ''Do we start now?''

The teacher pinched the bridge of his nose. ''Sweet Merlin, no! You are still not in the shape for classes, Potter. We shall start after the Christmas break. You may leave now.''

Harry glanced at the teacher and then at the cauldrons. ''But what about-?'' he pointed at the desk.

''Leave it. I can assure you there are numerous students awaiting tasks in detention. Unless you are keen on meeting professor Slughorn I would suggest leaving soon for your dormitory.''

Chapter Text

On Saturday the Gryffindors and Luna left for Hogsmeade. If not for the Levitation Charm the walk to the nearby town would have been much more troublesome with their heavy baggage. The Gryffindor quatro wondered why Luna brought none with her, but then it was Luna and she was known to be a bit... peculiar.

''So this is where we part...'' Hermione said once they reached the town.

Ginny rolled her eyes. ''Don't say it like we aren't gonna see each other during the break.''

Ron made a sour face. ''I still don't get why you can't come with us.''

''And now who is overly dramatic?'' Hermione snorted, but it was apparent she was amused by her boyfriend's remark. ''It's not that I can't, it's just that I wanna spend Christmas with my parents and grandparents. I didn't get the chance last year. But I'll come to see you on the Boxing Day, right? And you can come and visit me at my parents' flat too.''

''Yeah, you're right. I'm happy for you,'' Harry smiled and hugged Hermione as a good-bye. He shared her sentiment – spending Christmas with family (and Harry dared to consider the Weasleys something akin to a foster family) was much better way of spending this special time than hunting horcruxes. Ron couldn't possibly understand that, having spent the previous Christmas with his brother and sister-in-law. ''See you soon, alright?''

''Of course!'' Hermione nodded. Then she embraced Ron and pecked him quickly, clearly ashamed of her public display of affections. The girl cleared her throat and took the handle of her trunk. ''Oh, before I go, Ginny, make sure Harry revises his classes... I don't trust Ron to keep an eye on Harry. See you in a week!'' she said and Apparated away.

''Merry Christmas, Mione!'' Harry waved, pretending he didn't hear the part about his classes.

''Well, I guess it's our cue to leave,'' said Ginny. ''Do you want to come with us to the Burrow and from there to your home or-'' she addressed the Ravenclaw.

''Oh, no, I'm staying for the break in Hogwarts,'' Luna dismissively waved her hand, making her completely season-inaccurate yellow croci earrings dangle. ''Daddy is still rebuilding our house.''

Harry eyed Luna. Yes, that explained the lack of luggage. ''I'm sorry to hear that.''

''Well, I miss my room, but on the bright side it's our last year and last chance to spend the break in Hogwarts,'' Luna shrugged, but behind her eyes Harry caught a glimpse of soft sadness.

Ginny hugged Luna. ''Take care, Luna. We'll send you a Christmas card!''

''And don't forget to tell us if Peeves pranks Snape!'' Ron added.

Then the trio grabbed their trunks, waved Luna good-bye and Apparated to the Burrow.

''There you are, my dears!'' Mrs. Weasley waved at them and once they were close enough, she embraced them so tightly Harry for a moment thought she was going to choke him.

Mr. Weasley glanced at them from behind his copy of the Daily Prophet. ''I hope the journey went smoothly?''

''Daaad,'' both Ron and Ginny sighed.

''We just Apparated, you know, right?'' Ron reminded.

''I thought Hermione would come with you,'' Mrs. Weasley narrowed her eyes at the Gryffindors.

''Well, she decided she needs to go home to spend Christmas with her parents,'' Ron crossed his arms.

''Such a sweet girl! Unlike some people,'' Mrs. Weasley huffed and Harry curiously glanced at the two Weasleys.

''We'll explain later,'' Ginny whispered.

''Anyway, put your baggage on the first floor,'' Mrs. Weasley gestured towards the staircase. ''Are you hungry? You've arrived just in time for lunch.''

''I could eat,'' Ron said enthusiastically.

With a flick of their wand the trio ordered their trunks to follow them upstairs. Ginny directed her luggage towards her room, while Harry entered Ron's one.

''What is it with your mum?'' Harry asked placing down his trunk.

''Bill decided to spend Christmas in France with Fleur and her parents and mum is pissed off,'' Ron explained.

''Yeah, and Charlie stays in Romania,'' Ginny cut in, sneaking into Ron's room.

''Hey, no one invited you in here!'' Ron yelled, but it seem that he said that as a matter of principle rather than annoyance.

Harry could see why Fleur and Bill wanted to spend the time with her parents, although he imagined Mr. And Mrs. Delacour would be less offended than Mrs. Weasley currently was, if they decided to stay in the Burrow. They seemed a rather pleasant and less hot-headed couple. However, as far as he recalled Charlie Weasley had spent the majority of Christmas in Romania. Out of all Weasley siblings, Harry hardly knew Charlie at all. ''Charlie doesn't like coming for Christmas, does he?''

Ron shrugged non-commitally. ''Well, mate, let's just say he likes to keep his distance.''

''Are you coming for lunch or not?'' Mrs. Weasley called.

''I can't say I don't see his reasons – mum can be quite a lot to take in, especially around Christmas,'' Ginny pointed out.

Even though it was still six days until Christmas Mrs. Weasley made the teenagers do Christmas chores. Harry chuckled with nostalgia when George petrified a gnome during de-gnoming the garden, dressed it in a funny little dress and hung on the Christmas tree like he had years ago. In the evening Harry lay in a bed in Ron's room, overcome with exhaustion. This time, however, it was a good kind of exhaustion not caused by any illness.

''Blimey, mate, I think we forgot about your classes!'' Ron exclaimed overdramatically, letting himself joke when Hermione wasn't around.

''Oh my, I think you are right!'' Harry joined in jesting. ''Do you think Hermione is going to rip my head off?''

Ron made a serious face. ''Yes, mate. I'm afraid your days are numbered. It was nice knowing you, Harry.''

''Dammit,'' Harry hissed. ''Maybe you could hide me from her?''

''Hiding you from my girlfriend? Slim chance, mate,'' Ron raised his eyebrows to make a point. ''And even if she doesn't get you, Snape will. Seriously, mate, what were you thinking?''

Harry huffed and helpless stretched out his arms. ''I've told you already. McGonagall might be right about me needing some help with classes. I've never been great at Potions. Besides, Ginny is alright with that.''

Ron sat up on his bed. ''But what we will do without you in our team?''

Harry on the other hand didn't bother sitting up and only turned his face towards his friend. ''You were doing rather well without me those past few months. I just...'' he sighed. ''I don't think there's a point in me joining the team in January when I missed most of September, November and all of December training sessions.''

''But you are our Seeker, Harry!'' Ron protested.

''You've found someone to cover for me, right?''

''And so what? Harry, you are the best!''

Harry didn't find the compliment as satisfactory as he probably should have. Despite his passion for Quidditch Harry had never considered becoming a professional Quidditch player. It simply wasn't the life he wanted.

On Monday the Gryffindors went to the Diagon Alley to do some Christmas shopping, which were mostly gifts. Many shop fronts featured levitating candles and snowing spell. Some other shop owners had set their minds on perpetually chiming bells.

Harry was in the dark, not having much experience with buying gifts. Especially the wixen ones. He remembered rather well the piles of presents his cousin would receive, so he had some idea what muggles got each other for Christmas. He knew his friends well enough to know what they were going to enjoy, but there were more people to gift... like the young Teddy. What the hell wizards gifted to toddlers? Harry recalled the letter from his mum and the picture of him flying on a broom and decided it would be a disastrous idea to let a nine-months-old kid on a broom. An idea Harry's own godfather apparently had entertained a lot. On the other hand, Sirius hadn't been exactly an example of a responsible person. Suddenly Harry felt a pang of sadness – Sirius didn't even have a grave Harry could visit, unlike Harry's parents, whose graves Harry had visited a year earlier. Sirius had just stumbled back never to be seen again. How Harry wished he could spend his Christmas with his godfather...

Then Harry had a spark of an idea. ''Guys, I think I need to go to the Gringotts,'' he said, taking Ginny and Ron aside.

''What for? Do you need more money?'' Ron furrowed his eyebrows, trying to do his Maths.

''You will see,'' Harry grinned mischievously.

Ten minutes later Harry returned with a sack filled with British pounds. ''Come with me,'' he waved at his girlfriend and his friend.

The trio walked into the Leaky Cauldron and exited it from the other side. The muggle side.

''What exactly are we doin' here, Harry?'' Ron asked.

''I wanted to show you the muggle world around Christmas. Come on, have you ever truly walked around muggle London?'' he asked when he noticed Ron wasn't too sold on the idea.

Ron bit inside of his cheek. ''Have you, mate?''

Harry scratched the back fo his neck. ''Well, not really, but there's a time for first everythings, right? We've got muggle clothes on, we'll blend in.''

Ginny on the other hand appeared to be mesmerised by the Christmas lights and decorations. ''And muggles achieve it all without any magic?''

''I think the, how was it called, the eclecticity? is their magic,'' Ron looked at the lights.

''Electricity,'' Harry chuckled.

The following day was a big day for Harry, with him paying a visit to his godson. He wasn't sure what kind of reception to expect from Andromeda Tonks. After all Harry was the person indirectly responsible for death of her loved ones. Tonks had died fighting for Harry... only to leave her then month-old son behind. While Harry didn't remember his own parents, he felt sorry Teddy had only spent a month with his parents, while Harry had had over a year with his own.

The boy Apparated in front of the Tonks house. The woman must have set some alarming charms as she walked outside wielding a wand before Harry even got a chance to ring a bell.

''Oh, Harry!'' the woman looked rather embarrassed by her readiness to strike the unknown comer. ''Please, come in!'' she greeted him cordially.

''Uh, so how is Teddy?'' Harry was equally embarrassed by their conversation. ''I'm sorry for not coming sooner, but Hogwarts can be quite a lot,'' he excused himself as he was taking off his shoes in the hall.

''Teddy is growing so fast! Gosh, soon he'll start running around the house like some madman! Can't say I missed this stage of child's development,'' the brown-haired woman added with a tired sigh of someone who had been through the struggle before. ''It's your seventh year?''

Harry followed his host to the living room. ''Yes, I decided to retake my seventh year. Hermione convinced me I had to take my N.E.W.T.s.''

''Oh, I remember my seventh year well, alright,'' the woman chuckled at some distant memory. ''I can't blame you for not visiting. No one who has taken N.E.W.T.s would. Could you wait here for a moment? I'll fetch the little disastermaker,'' Andromeda patted a couch, inviting Harry to sit down. After a moment she returned holding a green-haired boy. ''Ten minutes ago it was still purple. Trust me, Harry, metamorphomagi can be quite annoying,'' she said handing the child to the teenager.

''Uff,'' Harry groaned. He had no idea babies weighted that much! ''Hi, Teddy!'' he waved at the toddler, placing him in his lap. ''You probably don't remember me – I'm your godfather Harry,'' Teddy's bright smile was infectious. Harry smiled only wider when the child clapped its hands and cooed.

Harry was clueless what to do next, having no prior experience with babies. Fearful not to hurt the boy, he gently patted his head. It seemed that Teddy enjoyed it as he started boucing on Harry's lap.

''He's a volcano of energy. Sometimes I wish he were less energetic,'' Andromeda smiled, brushing her grandson's hair. ''How is your seventh year going? I've heard you wanted to become an Auror?''

Harry looked away. He didn't want to upset Andromeda by evoking her memories of Tonks becoming an Auror. ''Yeah, I think I could do it.''

''Rather ambitious goal. It's awfully difficult job track. Not only you have to achieve great N.E.W.T.s grades, you also need to pass the entrance exam. Nymphadora had been so stressed over hers!'' Andromeda sighed wistfully.

Harry needed a second to connect 'Nymphadora' with 'Tonks'. ''I know. But I'm trying my best,'' he assured. ''Hermione wouldn't let me slack off. Actually, my friend Neville is taking the entrance exam next month.''

''Hermione is your girlfriend?'' the woman asked confusedly and Harry realised she probably didn't know that much about him, having met him only few times.

''No,'' Harry shook his head in an awkward amusement. ''Ginny's my girlfriend and Ginny's brother Ron is Hermione's boyfriend,'' he explained.

''Ah,'' Andromeda nodded. ''And Neville is?''

''Our friend,'' Harry held Teddy, making sure the toddler didn't fall down with all the wriggling.

''Let me,'' the woman took the toddler and put him on her lap.

''Oh, I've got something for Teddy,'' Harry turned around and reached to his bag. Then he presented to the wriggling toddler a teddy bear. ''Teddy bear for Teddy,'' Harry gently shook the plushie to make its limbs move. His gaze landed on boy's grandmother. ''I'm sorry if it's not suitable...'' he said insecurily. ''I was raised amongst muggles and I don't really know what wixen children receive for Christmas...''

Andromeda covered her mouth, but then quickly retreated her hand. ''No, it's-it's fine. It's just been a long time since I've seen a muggle toy. As you probably know my husband was a muggle-born, so he got Nymphadora a muggle toy maybe twice or thrice. Ted wasn't too attached to his muggle roots, but when the registration thing appeared he became more nostalgic for his muggle past. He could be quite... wilful. I'm sure he would appreciate our grandson receiving a piece of Ted's muggle childhood.''

''Bah!'' the toddler yelled. It looked that Teddy was perfectly happy with his gift as he reached out his grabby hands towards the fluffy toy. As soon as he had his reign over the teddy bear, now black-haired Teddy Lupin put toy's ear into his mouth, glossing it with his saliva.

Going to Hermione's parents' flat was a nice respite from the Christmas at the Burrow. While Harry loved staying with the Weasley clan, with each cracker pulled Fred's absence was painfully apparent and George's jokes lacked their supplement on Fred's end. The amosphere was much more uneasy than the previous Christmas Harry had spent with the Weasleys. Others had felt it as well and tried to hide it in different ways – in the moments of awkward silence Ron would remind old jokes he had told years ago, now unbecoming to a nearly nineteen-year-old, Percy would start talking about his new job in the Department of Transportation, Ginny would start pretending to worry about the semester tests, while George bragged how well his business was doing and mockingly offered a job of cashier to Ron and Harry. The play of pretending they were doing fine must have influenced Mrs. Weasley, who was even more stressed about the dinner than usually around Christmas. Meanwhile Mr. Weasley opted for pretending he wasn't there. And deep inside Harry had to admit it was a bit strange to have Percy around once more.

Unfortunately all good things must come to an end and Hermione soon enough started interrogating Harry about his progress, only to find out he had made none.

''Harry, you need to focus!'' she demanded and tapped her index finger against the picture in the Herbology book placed on a coffee table. ''How do you tell apart a Floo flower from a common muggle viola?''

''Uh, you make Floo powder with Floo flowers and not with viola?'' Harry fixed his glasses to hide his confused expression.

Hermione sighed tiredly. ''You won't be able to check if you can make Floo powder with a flower during your Herbology N.E.W.T., even if you knew the Floo powder recipe, Harry,'' she said so strickly a picture of Hermione becoming a teacher flashed before Harry's eyes. She would make an absolutely terrifying teacher.

Ron stopped observing curiously the Christmas tree standing in the living room and turned his attention to his girlfriend. ''Harry's answer wasn't wrong, you know.''

Hermione threateningly raised her eyebrows. ''Oh, you're so smart, Ronald? Then pray tell me what puts apart Floo flower from viola?''

''I-um, well... uh... Ah, it's all pointless!'' Ron waved his hand as Ginny giggled at her brother's poor attempt at hiding the fact he was just as clueless as Harry. ''If Neville is allowed to take the entrance exam with an 'A' in Potions, it means we don't have to achive best grades.''

''Achieving N.E.W.T.s is one thing. We don't know if Neville will pass the entrance exam. Of course I wish the best for him-'' Hermione pointed out. ''No, Crookshanks, leave the Christmas tree alone!'' she yelled when the red cat slapped a bauble.

The cat seemed to be offended by the request. It waved with its fluffy tail and walked towards the group of teenagers. Then it hopped on the coffee table and stared down at the picture of a Floo flower.

''Clever, Crookshanks,'' Hermione petted the cat. ''You would tell apart viola from Floo flower, wouldn't you?''

''He probably would, but he also recognised an animagus, so it wouldn't be that much of a deal for him,'' Ginny reminded jokingly.

Ron eyed the living room as if he was trying to catch a glimpse of some concealed thing. ''There's something I don't quite get – how come Harry's muggles had a fireplace, while your-''

''What? Are you gonna call my parents 'my muggles'?'' Hermione asked outraged. ''That sounds awfully prejudiced, don't you think? My parents never refer to you or your family as 'my wizards'!''

''What? No!'' Ron protested loudly. ''I only wanted to ask why your parents don't have a fireplace. If they had, you could add the fireplace to the Floo network,'' Ron reasoned.

Hermione waved her arm, gesturing broadly around the living room. ''It's a flat, Ronald! Harry's aunt and uncle lived in a single house. Muggles don't keep fireplaces in blocks. Flat are heated with radiators. Actually most houses nowadays are, fireplaces are there mostly to look fancy.''

''Was it that hard to simply answer?'' Ron huffed.

Harry excused himself from the living room as the squabble went on and Ginny joined him.

Harry anxiously looked over his shoulder at his two arguing friends. ''I'm worried about them,'' he confessed and Ginny furrowed her eyebrows. ''Lately they've been arguing quite a lot, don't you think?''

Ginny shook her head in amusement. ''You don't get it? My thick-headed brother and Hermione enjoy it.''

Harry wrinkled his nose. The mere idea of enjoying a squabble with your partner seemed utterly absurd to him. While Ron and Hermione argued on daily basis, after each one of few squabbles he and Ginny had had, Harry had a feeling his world was about to collapse. However, Harry didn't have much time to ponder on the matter as his right hand was suddenly pulled and the rest of his body followed. In a second his cheek was met with Ginny's lips.

''What for was that?'' he felt rather ridiculous for the warmth climbing up his face.

Ginny smirked smugly and pointed up. ''The mistletoe, silly.''

Harry looked up, feeling even more ridiculous. Then he looked down again at his girlfriend and leant forward for a more proper kiss this time.

Chapter Text

The return to Hogwarts felt like it happened much sooner than after two weeks of the break. Harry hardly was given the time to put his trunk back into the dormitory, when he heard paintings in the Gryffindor common room calling him.

Harry groaned, much to Ron's amusement (for which Ron was slapped with a pillow), and headed for the common room. The paintings truly needn't have yelled. Probably every Gryffindor student was already aware they wanted something from Harry.

''Oh, there you are, Potter,'' the portrait of a wizard wearing feathered purple tudor hat addressed Harry. ''The Fat Lady asked us to tell you professor O'Cathail wanted you to report to the Matron.''

Of course. Not a day could pass without someone treating him with kid gloves. With resignation Harry let his feet carry him to the Hospital Wing.

''Did you get a good rest, Potter? How are you feeling today?'' Madam Pomfrey greeted him.

Harry nodded. ''Yeah, I'm fine,'' he said realising the unusual feeling was gone. He hadn't even noticed the moment it had disappeared.

''Let's check that, shall we?'' Madam Pomfrey smirked at the boy. ''You know what to do, Potter,'' she waved her hand, urging Harry to sit down on an examination bed. When he was sitting, she started an incantation. ''Congratulations, Potter. It would appear you are perfectly healthy. Should you feel nauseous or otherwise unwell, do not wait in hopes of the symptoms vanishing. Am I clear?'' she scoldingly raised her eyebrow.

Harry ducked his head from Matron's glare. ''Yes, ma'am,'' he mumbled.

Another thing that made the return rather unpleasant was teachers' willingness to dive head-first into the routine of school life with stacks of assignments, uncaring that the majority of students wasn't quite ready to do it yet. For Harry the clash with said routine was rather harsh, but he refused to admit it would be even worse if not for Hermione efforts.

It surely did not help that first day of classes, that is Monday, meant Potions. Even though his extra Potions were supposed to take place on Fridays, Harry had a bad feeling about upcoming classes with Snape.

Snape stood next to the blackboard with his hands clasped behind his back. ''Silence!'' the murmur of students' voices died out as soon as Snape spoke. ''Open your books on page 328,'' the teacher said not wasting any time on pleasantries. ''Potter,'' Harry stopped himself from huffing upon hearing his last name. ''Tell me, what ingredients are required to brew Veritaserum?''

''Uh, um-,'' Harry put all his effort into poking his brain. He remembered revising the material with Hermione.

''Potter, stand up when answering. Have you forgotten your manners in the last one-and-half month?'' Snape asked drily.

Harry slowly raised himself to a standing position, trying not to feel the curious glances his fellow students were sending him. He could hear Brownleek gossiping with some other Slytherin, no doubt making fun out of him. He took a deep breath. ''The ingredients for Veritaserum are, uhm-''

Hermione opened up her mouth, but Snape was quicker to speak. ''Granger, do not even think about giving Potter the answer,'' he warned and Hermione's cheeks turned crimson.

Harry glanced briefly at Ron and saw a support in his friend in the form of forehead furrowed in anger at the injustice. ''Well?'' Snape crossed his arms.

''The ingredients consist of sage, um... poppy head, Adder's fork, bel-'' Snape sceptically raised an eyebrow at the last word and dread went down Harry's spine. ''I-I meant, uh, Boomslang skin and um... and...'' Harry tried to recall which ingredients he had already listed. ''Boomslang skin,'' he muttered under his breath, counting on his fingers, ''sage, moondew...'' he hesitated. ''And moondew,'' he said aloud.

Snape nodded. ''And how long it takes to brew Veritaserum?''

''A lunar cycle,'' Harry shrugged. That one was easy-peasy.

Snape's eyebrows went slightly up, an expression which probably went unnoticed by the majority of students, but not Harry, who interpreted it as a surprise. The belief the man had in Harry was truly heart-warming, to say the least. Maybe Snape lost some kind of bet that Harry would return absolutely ignorant. ''You may sit, Potter,'' Snape simply said.

''Well done, Harry!'' Hermione whispered.

''Yeah, you showed the git,'' Ron added quietly, patting Harry's back, only to duck his head down when he was met with Snape's angry glare.

Then Snape went writing down the recipe for the Veritaserum antidote. ''I suggest you memorise both the recipe for Veritaserum and the antidote as they both may appear in the semestral test,'' the Potions Master turned around to face his students. ''Moreover, I want you to forget what professor Slughorn told you about preparing the Mandrake Restorative Draught. The recipe provided in the book by Libatius Borage is somewhat dated. I expect you to work efficiently today, so that I will be able to show you the most up-to-date recipe.''

Unfortunately, it quickly turned out Snape wasn't the only teacher to ask Harry questions upon his return from the prolonged absence. To be precise, it only took Harry the length of two lessons break that followed Potions to find that out.

McGonagall walked to Harry's desk and put a chess piece in front of Harry. ''Potter, I would like you to transform it into a rook, a bird. I hope you know the incantation?''

Harry looked warily at the king on his desk. ''Yes, professor,'' he said in defeat. The transmutation didn't go as quite as planned as on the first try the king turned into a knight and on the second try instead of turning into a rook, the chess piece turned into a blackbird. Well, at least the bird was black, similarly to rooks.

The bird chirped, spread its wings and took off.

''You could do better, Potter. Revise this lesson,'' the Headmistress said. ''Purflor, may I ask why are you laughing?'' she turned her keen eyes at the other Gryffindor.

''No-nothing, professor,'' Eusebius Purflor went pale.

With a swift motion McGonagall transformed the blackbird back into a king and caught the falling chess piece. This time she placed it in front of Purflor, making the chess piece click against the wooden desk louder than necessary. ''Purflor, you will present us how well you have memorised the King to Rook spell.''

Eusebius' attempts were no better than Harry's, if not worse, with chess piece being turned into a crooked rook, a chess piece, instead of a bird.

Ron was about to laugh at his fellow Gryffindor's misery, but Hermione covered his mouth. ''Do you want to be next, Ron?'' she whispered angrily.

Ginny smirked knowingly. ''I'd like to see that.''

Luckily, the majority of classes during the week wasn't as eventful with Flickwick and Sprout not being so eager to check on Harry's progress. Harry wasn't too surprised to find out O'Cathail in one team with Snape and McGonagall in the terms of asking the boy about the meterial he had missed due to his sickness. However, as far as subjects went DADA was Harry's favourite and this time he managed not to make fool of himself in front of entire class, much to the head of Gryffindor's content.

Then the dreaded Friday arrived with extra Potions. Having wished Ginny and Ron good luck in their Quidditch training session, Harry hurried to get to the Potions classroom. He ran through the door panting.

''Ah, Potter, I thought you were going to be late,'' Snape stood expectantly in the middle of the classroom, tapping his fingers against his forearm with his arms crossed. ''Take out your cauldron and your book,'' he ordered coldly.

Gasping and swallowing loudly, Harry put, or rather threw, his bag on the desk uncaring of the noise it made and grabbed the cauldron and the book.

''Today I would like you to prepare the Draught of Peace. You may begin immediately,'' Snape returned to his place behind the teacher's desk and observed the student.

Harry opened up his book and checked the table of contents. To his surprise the potion wasn't listed in his copy of Advanced Potion-Making, even though Harry was sure he had brewed the potion. The name surely sounded familiar. Then the looked up the index at the end of the book, again to no avail.

Irritation crept in as Harry glared at the git. Very fucking funny. He should have expected Snape to laugh at his expense. Harry scavenged his brain for the recipe. It had to be somewhere in there! If only he was granted an access to the Pensieve... Or if he still had on him Snape's copy of the book. Maybe it was payback for having used Half-Blood Prince' book?

While the futile search for recipe took Harry about a quarter of an hour, another twenty minutes, if not more, Harry wasted on recalling the recipe. So much for beginning immediately.

Harry took powdered moonstone and quickly poured it into the cauldron, not wanting to waste any more time. The potion took a greenish colour. Then Harry begun to stir. As he stirred potion turned turquoise and then blueish, while the boy wondered what excatly colour it was supposed to take. When he stopped stirring the potion's shade was something between blue and violet. He added a drop of syrup of hellebore, distantly recalling something about the potion needing to take purple colour. Unfortunately, he didn't manage to make it purple as it was currently more reddish. In panic Harry started to stir clockwise. Suddenly he felt a grip on his right hand.

''What do you think you are doing, Potter?! Put out the fire! Now!'' Snape growled.

Harry angrily tugged his hand out of Snape's and grabbed his wand to put out the fire under his cauldron. Just as he was waving his wand, the contents of the cauldron exploded. Harry's first instinct was to cover his face with his left hand.

Harry hissed as he felt his left hand burn. He looked down at his hand covered in hot, maroon ooze.

''Show me your hand, Potter,'' Snape hissed and with a wild expression look down at the hand that was getting covered in blisters. The Potions Master let go of Harry's hand, turned around towards the shelf and took an oinment. ''Here,'' he said, putting the jar in Harry's right hand. ''Remove the pitiful attempt at the Draught of Peace from your hand and apply the salve on the blisters,'' he spoke a bit more calmly.

Harry took a washcloth and removed the ooze, grimacing at the pain. He noticed that Snape was impatiently clenching and unclenching his own left hand. When he got to spreading the salve on the blisters, Snape went on.

''Now, tell me Potter – how come you have achieved an O.W.L. in Potions?'' the teacher sneered.

''I suppose I did well during the exam,'' Harry looked angrily at the man.

''Oh, did you? Then why you ruined a fifth-year level potion?''

Harry furrowed his eyebrows. ''It was a fifth-year potion?'' That would explain why it wasn't featured in the N.E.W.T.-level book.

''Did I stutter, Potter?'' Snape asked slowly, yet his voice was harsh.

Harry wasn't going to take it anymore. Ah, hell, Snape was going to cancel the extra Potions and take a million points from Gryffindor, anyway. ''Have it crossed your mind that I might not remember a recipe I learnt three years ago? Sir?!'' his voice was just as venomous as Snape's.

''Perhaps I should have asked you to brew the Polyjuice Potion. You seem to be much more adept at brewing this particular potion,'' Snape hissed. ''I am sure you would be able to list the ingredients and the steps for that potion even if woken up in the middle of a night.'' Harry furrowed his eyebrows in confusion and opened up his mouth to give the answer. ''It was a rhetorical question, Potter. I am in no mood to listen to you reciting the Polyjuice Potion recipe right now. What I wish you to do is collect your possessions and get out of my sight!''

Harry decided it was better not to argue on that particular matter and got to packing up his stuff, carelessly throwing them into his rucksack, his only goal being leaving the classroom as soon as possible.

''Next week try not running into the classroom in the last second,'' Snape called as Harry opened the door. Oh, so the extra Potions weren't cancelled. Frankly, Harry didn't know if he should consider it a victory or a loss.

---

Severus got up early in the morning. While he tended to stay up late in the night, he also had a habit of getting early. He opened up his wardrobe, grabbed a towel and headed for his bathroom. Having turned the cold tap on, he splashed some water into his face. As he was wiping his face with a towel, he glanced at his reflection in the mirror over the sink. He put away the towel and turned his observant gaze towards the mirror, his own appearance for the first time in a long time drawing his attention.

Severus raised his hand to his greasy hair and touched a single silver strand. Upon further inspection he found another five grey hairs. Well, it was only a matter of time, he mused. His natural haircolour had lasted exceptionally long, anyway. Still, it felt strange, like saying good-bye to a chapter in his life. He chuckled sourly at the thought – he had much more important life-changing moments in his life, yet greying hair felt like an end of an era. And to think mere months ago he thought he was not going to live long enough to see himself turning old.

With a groan Severus picked the towel and wiped his hands. There was no point in wasting his time on such a silly musings.

Feeling refreshed, he put on one of his trademark black robes and sat down at his desk, returning to more pressing matters – Potter's education. Severus' carefully thought out plan for the brat's extra Potions classes had evaporated the previous day with the ruined potion. Not to mention that the Christmas break wasn't a break from duties for Severus, unlike for the Gryffindor, even more so considering the fact that more Slytherins had stayed at school for the break than usual. Which could be accounted to many of their parents having been arrested for being Death Eaters or at very least having supported the Dark Lord.

Apparently Severus had underestimated the boy's lack of talent in the Potions department. An annoying thought appeared, questioning the reasons for that occurence. Lily had been an exceptional potioneer. Her smug, mischievious smile when she had come up with an idea of cutting her way short through a potion, her green eyes sparkling with joy over a shared secret when Severus had told her about his own discoveries... The boy certainly did not inherit his anti-talent from Severus either. And the brat had had the audacity to argue with Severus for daring to check how much he remembered from the earlier stages of his education. On the other hand, it could have been much worse – luckily Potter was nowhere near Neville Longbottom's ineptitude.

After the breakfast the Headmistress joined Severus on his walk back to the Dungeons, asking him to come with her to her office instead.

''I only hope it is not about Potter this time, Minerva,'' Severus deadpanned only half-jokingly. To say the brat was troublesome was to say nothing.

''Oh, no,'' Minerva shook her head and a soft smile appeared on her wrinkled face. ''I called a meeting of heads of houses. Filius, Pomona and Jocasta should be already awaiting us.''

''Well, Headmistress, should I feel offended to be the last person to receive an invitation?'' he raised an eyebrow.

Minerva put on her stoic mask. ''I am in no position to tell you how you should feel, Severus.''

A gargoyle and a spiral staircase later two teachers arrived at the door of the office. ''After you,'' the Headmistress politely gestured.

Severus looked at his superior questioningly. His intuition of a spy was telling him something wasn't right about the meeting. Minerva looked as if she was trying to hide something and Severus had to admit she was going a great job at it – hadn't he know her so well, he wouldn't have probably spotted that. He turned the doorknob, figuring he was about to find out in a moment.

First of all, the three other heads of houses weren't the only teachers in the room. Frankly, the only person missing was Sybill, but the seer was known for her dislike of meetings and events. The other thing was a cake put neatly in the middle of the room on a table. A fucking cake with candles with plates and forks placed next to it.

Severus was about to question this madness, when his colleagues sang, or perhaps shouted, in unison ''Happy birthday to you... Happy birthday to you...'' Filius was using his wand as a baton, having taken the role of the conductor of the choir of teachers.

Oh, yes, he had forgotten today was his birthday. He had never cared about the day, not seeing what made it so special – with every passing day he was getting older than the previous one. ''Thank you. This surely comes as a surprise,'' he looked at the gathering with a small dose of distrust. ''You needn't have.''

''On contrary, Severus,'' Minerva said firmly. ''We haven't showed you enough gratitude.''

''You are a bit of a madman, Snape, but your heart is in the right place,'' said Jocasta.

Severus scratched the back of his hand. ''Why, thank you, O'Cathail, for your insight on the anatomy of my body,'' he said flatly.

Minerva streached out her arms as if she wanted to prevent the ex-Auror and ex-spy from starting a fight. ''Peace, both of you! Sweet Merlin, you are like children,'' she sighed massaging her temples.

''Thank yer fer things yeh done fer Harry,'' the half-giant threw his arms around Severus' thin frame and wet ex-spy's robe with his tears.

''I would say it is a joint effort,'' he said stiffly.

When Severus was released from Hagrid's embrace, Pomona stepped out and insecurily faced the Potions Master. She wiped her hands against her stained robe, seemingly looking for words. ''Severus, I'm sorry for not supporting you during your trial. You are a loyal, hard-working person. You would make a good Hufflepuff,'' she chuckled and patted his shoulder. ''Many happy returns.''

''It's alright, Pomona. I've never held a grudge against you,'' he assured. ''And while I appreciate the compliment, I would not feel comfortable wearing yellow.''

Filius was already tearful when he approached Severus. ''There's a lot to be said, but if I wanted to say it all I'm afraid we would all be confined here for at least entire month and someone has to keep an eye on students. Let's just say I am honoured to have you as my esteemed colleague and I wish you all the best on your 39^th birthday,'' then short Charms Master waved at the Potions Master, urging him to lean over. Filius put his hand next to his mouth and whispered conspiratorially. ''I'm sure Ravenclaw would accept you with open arms with your wits.''

A smirk sparked by amusement danced at the corners of Severus' lips. ''What do I need to tell you for you to understand I am a Slytherin through and through?''

Minerva cleaned her glasses against her robe. ''I would like to remind you that Gryffindor offer is on the table as well.''

Severus shot his superior a sceptical look. ''Have you truly thought you could outsmart me, Headmistress? I saw through your vile plan – you want me to change my affiliation so that I won't be the head of Slytherin anymore.''

''Actually it was my idea,'' Jocasta volunteered.

Once thanks and wishes were said to the point Severus felt out of place, the Arithmancy teacher lit up the candles.

''Make a wish!'' Ancient Runes teacher encouraged and soon others joined the chant.

''What yeh waitin' fer?'' Hagrid asked.

''Come on, Severus!'' Filius clapped.

Seeing the doubtful, stubborn scowl upon the former spy's face, Minerva sternly looked at him. ''It would appear you have no other choice but to blow the candles.'' Her voice was almost drowned out by the voices repeatedly telling Severus to make a wish.

Severus grimaced and sighed tiredly. He leant forward, watching the dancing flames at the ends of candles. All the unnecessary tumult and for what? And yet it was his 39^th birthday... a year ago he had thought the chances of him surviving long enough to turn 39 minuscule. How different his life was from that of last year. Year ago he had been a man on a death row with an impossible task at hand and today... he had a future ahead of him, he realised with almost existential dread. He has been aware of it since the Wizengamot had found him not guilty, but in this moment the simplicity of it made it impossible to ignore, not unlike the silver strands in his black hair.

He smirked and took a deep breath. For the first time since his childhood he was curious what the future had in store for him. He closed his eyes, waiting a second before blowing the candles. And so against himself Severus made a wish.

Chapter Text

''Class, as you are aware, on the last January lesson you are going to take the semestral test.'' Young witches and wizards showed their enthusiasm by groaning. ''I know semestral test aren't quite popular among the student, but I would like to ask you to take it seriously. The semestral test is going to be one of the last moments when you can examine your knowledge before the N.E.W.T.s. Today and the following week we are going to revise the charms you've learnt this semester,'' professor Flitwick waved his wand, placing a lock in front of each of his students. ''We are going to start with the Anti-Alohomora charm.''

Furrowing his eyebrows, Harry focues his gaze on the lock on his desk. ''Alohomoram prohibeo!'' he said, unsure if the spell worked. At least with the Alohomora charm the results arrived immediately.

''Oh my God, Ron, it's 'Alohomoram prohibeo' not 'Alohomoram prohibeo'!'' Hermione impatiently explained to her boyfriend, ready to take away his wand unless he pronounced the incantation correctly.

Ron huffed and crossed his arms offended. ''Thanks, I know how to say 'Alohomooora','' he overextended the syllabe, earning an eyeroll from Hermione.

Ginny smirked meanly, as the majority of siblings do given a chance to make fun of their siblings. ''Ron isn't exactly a master at linguistics, as you have probably noticed by now Hermione,'' she snorted.

However, Hermione missed the punchline as she scrunched her nose in confusion. ''I don't think that at all! Ron was great with his Parseltongue skills!''

Ron's face turned almost as red as his hair. ''Yeah... it's nothing,'' Ron shrugged insecurily. ''I kinda got familiar with it over the years of listening to Harry speaking in Parseltongue in his sleep.''

A ball of paper hit Harry's ear. Rubbing his ear, he looked to his back left.

''Merlin, get a room!'' Harper made a face like he was about to vomit. His sentiment was seconded by his fellow Slytherin, Brownleek, who was making puking noises.

Hermione put on her meaniest expression. ''And you'd better work on you throwing skills.''

''You know, Mione, maybe it's not the best idea to say someone they failed to hit you,'' Ron whispered. ''Hey? Who did that!'' he clenched his fists.

Eusebius Purflor was already squashing another piece of paper into a ball. ''This might be the first time I actually agree with a Slytherin. Get a freakin' room!''

Loud bang of a book hitting a heavy wooden desk startled the class. ''Silence!'' professor Flitwick ordered, not quite shouting. Frankly, Harry couldn't imagine the Charms Master raising his voice like Snape or McGonagall on their bad days. ''Stop throwing objects, we're not revising the Banishing Charm!'' Just as Flitwick said the last word, a paper ball hit him between his eyes.

Watching the scene, Harry felt a wave nostalgia for his classes with Seamus and Dean. At this point Seamus' lock would have probably set itself on fire, his spellcasting being often rather explosive.

After few minutes, having got bored with throwing paper balls, unruly students calmed down, enough for Flitwick to continue the lesson.

The tiny professor rubbed his forehead. ''Now exchange your locks with your neighbour and cast on your neighbour's the Alohomora charm.''

Naturally, Hermione had no trouble opening Ron's lock with Alohomora, while Ron gave up after third try with Hermione's, her charm being apparently spotless, much to red-head's embarrassment.

After the Charms the trio walked down the corridors, looking for a comfortable spot to sit down, while Ginny went to chat with Luna. Unfortunately the break was too short to go back to Gryffindor common room in front of the fireplace. They would have to head for the greenhouse before they would get the chance to properly warm themselves up. Just as they sat down on a windowsill, Dennis Creevey spotted them.

''Potter!'' the younger Gryffindor called angrily.

Ron sighed tiredly. ''What is it now, Dennis? Can't you already fuck off?''

''Ron!'' Hermione glared at her boyfriend, her attention having been transferred from the book she was holding on her laps.

''What?'' Ron shrugged blankly. ''He's a git and a pain in the ass.''

Hermione jabbed the red-head, observing Dennis warily from the corners of her eyes. ''You could show him some compassion...''

''I don't need your pity, Granger!'' Dennis clenched his fists.

Harry slid from the windowsill. ''Look, Dennis, we've been through this. I know how you feel-''

Dennis took a step forward. ''You know nothing!''

''I do know! I know you are hurt. I know you want to smash things and yell at people who failed you. You want them to feel your pain,'' Harry thought of himself unleashing his unadulterated rage in Dumbledore's office following Sirius' demise. ''Trust me – it's not gonna make you feel better!''

Ron crossed his arms and muttered unhappily. ''You didn't give me this kind of speeches. Or Ginny for that matter.''

''Maybe it will!'' Dennis pushed Harry towards the wall.

Hermione quickly put the book aside. ''Leave him alone!'' she jumped off the windowsill.

''And what if I refuse?'' Dennis took out his wand. ''Locomotor Wibbly!'' he said and Hermione's legs gave way.

Ron's eyes burnt with fury. He launched himself at his fellow Gryffindor with his fists clenched, his wand forgotten.

''Ron, no!'' Hermione protested. ''I'll be fine! Ron!'' she called desperately, even though it was clear her boyfriend wasn't listening.

Dennis, however, wasn't a helpless caged animal. He leant forward and charged at Ron's torso forcefully, making both boys fall to the ground. Harry stood there stupefied by the series of events.

Hermione tried to stand up, in vain. ''Harry, stop those idiots!'' she let her hands down powerlessly. Then she reached for her wand and began making gestures over her legs.

''Protego!'' Harry shouted, separating the two students. Ron, now adorning a black eye, shot Harry a glare as if he just had been insulted.

In this very moment Snape emerged from behind a half-column, the stealthy bat. ''Well, well. What we have got here? A scuffle between Gryffindors. I am sure professor O'Cathail is going to love the news.'' Snape's attention was transferred to Hermione. ''Granger, you should work on your DADA expertise if you want to achieve the N.E.W.T.''

Harry deflated. Simply wonderful – not only he willingly signed up for extra Potions, now he was also going to be given a detention, alongside three other Gryffindors.

Dennis licked his bloodied teeth, send Snape a gaze filled with contempt and spat a bloody spit next to teacher's foot.

Snape sneered. ''I suppose you are going to enjoy scrubing cauldrons this Saturday, Creevey. Ten points from Gryffindor and a detention!'' After another angry stare sent by Dennis, Snape went on. ''This is the moment you walk away, Creevey. If you don't get up this instant, I am going to drag you to the DADA office,'' he hissed.

The threat had worked as Dennis slowly lifted himself from the floor and grumpily walked away, making sure his feet made the most noise by scraping against the tiles, glancing over his shoulder from time to time. Snape grimaced and turned around. Once the teacher was out of sight, Ron chuckled.

Having successfully removed the jinx, Hermione slowly got up. ''What's so funny, Ron?'' she scolded him.

''I think we got lucky, eh, mate?'' Ron playfully jabbed Harry with his elbow.

Harry stared at the corner behind which Snape had disappeared. ''I think we have,'' he said absent-mindedly.

''Don't move, Ron,'' Hermione requested firmly. ''Episkey!'' she called and Ron felt warmth below his left eye socket.

The red-head touched the spot, relieved not to feel any discomfort. ''Thanks, Hermione, you are simply wonderful,'' he sighed dreamily.

Hermione scoffed. ''And you are reckless. Hurry up, we're gonna be late for Herbology!'' she added impatiently.

The trio ran towards the greenhouse until their legs hurt. As much as Harry loved Hogwarts he despised hurring for classes and running around the entire large castle to got to his classes on time. Harry opened up the greenhouse' door not subtly, earning himself and his friends unwanted attention. Hermione blushed, cowering her head apologetically.

''What took you so long?'' Ginny whispered to Harry when he sat down next to her.

Professor Sprout put her hands on her hips, taking a strict pose. ''Oh, look, who decided to join us? Take a sit, we have no time to waste,'' she added, but her soft smirk gave away she was more amused than annoyed.

''I'll explain later,'' Harry whispered back.

Professor spot him a disapproving glance. ''As I was saying, but the latecomers didn’t get a chance to hear – today we are covering the Sopophorous Bean. By now you should be aware of at least some of its uses.''

''It’s an ingredient of the Draught of Living Death,'' Harry said surprising himself even more than Hermione, who was already waiting with her hand raised up.

''Excellent! Five points for Gryffindor! And I see Ms. Granger knew the answer too. Well done! Professor Snape would be most disappointed if you forgot about this special ingredient.'' the head of Hufflepuff chuckled. ''However you are not going to cut it today-''

''Better crush it,'' Harry muttered quietly to Ginny’s amusement.

The red-haired girl playfully nudged her boyfriend. ''I see the extra Potions are already paying off.''

''You are going to learnt how to keep the plant alive, so that it breeds these useful beans,'' professor Sprout went on.

''And I think you’re spending too much time with the greasy git,'' Ron whispered a bit harshly, earning himself a scoff from Hermione.

''I’ve only had one-'' Harry started excusing himself.

Their discussion was cut short by the sound of a massive clay pot being put forcefully on a wooden table.''Quiet, you Gryffindors!'' professor Sprout ordered in a booming voice. ''Don’t make me take away from Gryffindor the points you’ve just earnt.''

Then Pomona Sprout rolled up the sleeves of her robe and put her hand on the both sides of the pot. ''Firsts of all, you must ensure the earth has the right humidity. Sopophorous is a fastidious plant. Put your finger into the soil,'' she demonstrated by pushing well over haf of her index finger into the pot’s contents. ''If the earth is too sticky or too oily, the plant is going to rot. If it’s too sandy or too tight and hard to break apart, it’s going to wither,'' she pulled out her finger. ''This one is just right.''

Next, the teacher picked a bean and presented it to the class, before pushing it into a hole her finger left in the earth. ''The bean needs to be put about two, two-and-half inches into the ground,'' she explained, covering the bean with the excess soil.

---

''Potter, I see you decided to your show up in a more timely fashion,'' Snape greeted him, sitting behind the teacher's desk, if it could be called a 'greeting'.

''You told me not to be late, sir,'' Harry said flatly, not really feeling like talking with his teacher. He put his bag on the desk and reached for his cauldron.

''You are not going to require that today,'' Snape said when Harry was halfway through taking out the cauldron. ''Only your book and a sheet of parchment.'' Harry eyed the Potions Master warily. Snape got up and took a few steps towards his student. ''Since it was brought up to my attention last week that you lack the rudimentary knowledge, I have deemed it necessary to cover with you the theoretical aspect of the subject before returning to the practical side.''

Harry gave his teacher the most pained expression. Brewing potions wasn't Harry's favourite thing on its own, but learning Potions theory made him feel like he was dying from the inside.

Snape grimaced. ''Cease with your antics, Potter. You are an adult even by muggle standards, so behave accordingly. Now, remind me the Golpalott's laws.''

Harry blinked blankly. ''Erm,'' he cleared his throat. ''The antidote for poison is uh... a sum of,'' Snape arched his eyebrow sceptically. ''I mean, more than a sum of...''

''Enough, Potter,'' Potions Master raised his hand, telling Harry to stop. ''It is clear you remember none of Golpalott's laws. I am quite curious as to why you have decided to start your answer with the third law?''

Harry looked around the classroom as if it could hint him a response to the question at hand. Frankly, Harry himself wasn't sure why he went for the Golpalott's Third Law. ''It's what we covered with professor Slughorn during sixth year,'' he said meekly.

Snape crossed his arms. ''Yes, I am glad you remember the Golpalott's Third Law is a part sixth-year Potions curriculum, Potter. Now explain me – how do you plan on brewing an antidote for a blended poison when you don't remember the laws for making antidotes for simple poisons?'' Snape took Harry's silence as an answer. ''Exactly, Potter,'' he eyed him strictly.

Snape turned around and grabbed a chair. Putting it on the opposite side of Harry's desk, he said ''Take your parchment and quill,'' the teacher sat down. ''We are going to start with the Golpalott's First Law – the antidote for a simple poison which ingredients are common ingredients will be equal to the sum of poison's ingredients' counteragents. Now repeat in your own words the rule set out by this law,'' he asked, looking Harry right into eyes.

Harry huffed – he knew Snape didn't consider him the sharpest tool in the shed, but he needn't have to show it in nearly all of their interactions. He wasn't that dumb to have trouble understanding simple sentences! ''If a poison was made with common ingredients the antidote is made with counteragents of the ingredients.''

Snape nodded. ''Now write down ingredients for the antidote to the Fire-Breathing Potion.''

Harry furrowed his eyebrows. ''But that's a potion, not a poison!''

''Every potion can also become a poison. Moreover, the Fire-Breathing Potion often comes with unwanted side effects,'' Snape explained impatiently.

Harry dropped his quill and crossed his arms. ''Why are we even learning this? Can't I just use the Antidote to Common Poisons instead?''

Snape pinched the bridge of his nose, his patience wearing thin. ''The so-called common antidotes are not always effective. Even a bezoar does not cure very single case of poisoning.''

''Well, the trick with bezoar saved Ron's life,'' Harry shrugged. ''It's not like you wanted to work your way through the Golpalott's Third Law in your sixth year either, sir,'' he dared.

Snape gritted his teeth at the reminder of his old book, but then his face quickly took a neutral expression. ''Workarounds might be useful in scenarios, when quick thinking is required. However, the exam commission certainly is not going to be pleased if you present them a bezoar instead of applying the Golpalott's Third Law during your Potions N.E.W.T.''

Harry opened up his mouth to argue, but Snape cut his short. ''No more questions, Potter! The recipe for the antidote is waiting.''

Harry groaned and looked at the empty parchment, scratching his head, and then looked again at his teacher.

''Yes, Potter, you may use a book to look up the ingredients for the Fire-Breathing Potion,'' Snape said tiredly.

Finding a book that covered the Fire-Breathing Potion recipe took Harry a moment. He put the book next to the parchment and stared at the ingredients list. Powdered dragon horn might have been a common ingredient, but what was its couteragent? Harry's gaze slid down the list and only greasy git's presence stopped him from slamming his face against the book. Find counteragent to a common ingredient. Easier said than done. Did Snape truly expect Harry to memorise every single one of them?

After a while Harry started writing down the antidote's ingredients, muttering under his breath and striking out an ingredient to replace it with another one from time to time. When he decided he wasn't going to come up anything better than what he had written down, he put his quill away.

''Have you finished, Potter?'' Snape glanced at the parchment.

''Yes, sir.''

Without asking the teacher grabbed the parchment. ''You took your time, Potter,'' he remarked. ''And your antidote is incorrect,'' he handed back the parchment. ''The counteragent to powdered dragon horn is an eagle owl feather, not a dandelion root,'' he clarified matter-of-factly, taking Harry by surprise a bit. Usually at this point Snape would be sneering and ridiculing him.

Several similar antidote ingredients lists later, Potions Master asked seemingly out of nowhere. ''Care to explain the reason behind Creevey's newfound antagonism towards you, Potter?''

Harry shifted his attention from the parchment to his teacher. ''You surely know the answer, sir,'' his voice was unpleasant. Harry didn't know why Snape brought up the subject and he wanted to make sure the ex-spy got the cue to drop it.

Unfortunately for the Gryffindor, the change in Harry's voice wasn't enough to discourage the teacher. ''Yes, Potter, I have my guesses. However, I would not have asked you if I had not wanted to hear your side of the story.''

Harry furrowed his eyebrows and glared his teacher right into those black orbs, challenging him. ''Can't you just read my mind?''

Snape picked up the gauntlet and stared back into Harry's green eyes. ''For the last time, Potter, Legilimency is not 'mind-reading' as you put it. Moreover, I have no desire to enter your mind ever again. So humour me, Potter.''

Harry threw his hands up. ''And I see no point in talking about it! Sir,'' he spat the last word.

Snape crossed his arms and leant his back against the backrest of his chair. ''I will wait, then. I have all the time in the world,'' then he glanced at Harry's parchment seemingly without much interest. ''Have you finished listing ingredients for the antidote to the Laugh-inducing Potion?''

Harry bowed his head and dug his fingers into his hair. He knew the Potions Master well enough to realise Snape was going to keep returning to the matter until Harry submitted to his will. ''Ugh! Fine! Dennis blames me for Colin's death! Happy now?!'' Harry didn't even notice when he started panting in anger.

Snape bent forward, his gaze still locked onto Harry. ''But you are aware death of the elder of the Creevey brothers is not your fault?''

Harry scoffed. ''What does it matter whose fault it is? It might as well have been mine,'' Harry chuckled humourlessly. ''Colin joined D.A. because of me. Fred and Lavender were in D.A. too... We shouldn't have started it. I should have quit, they mostly joined because of me. And-and Tonks and Remus-'' Harry swallowed. He felt absolutely pathetic, he could feel he was on the verge of having a breakdown. Right in front of his once most beloathed teacher.

Snape, sitting at the opposite side of Harry's desk, intertwined his fingers and displayed them on the desk. ''Knowing the famed Gryffindor moral compass, your friends would have joined the organisation even if you had not been its member. If you had quit, they would have stayed anyway.'' Harry glanced at his teacher doubtfully. ''Do not forget, Potter, I have been a teacher for almost half of my life – I have seen enough students to know how your friends would have acted. As for Nymphadora and Lupin, they were not members of your little organisation if I recall correctly.''

''Yes, but-'' Harry bit his lip, wondering if he should carry the conversation. He didn't want to talk about it, especially not with Snape out of all people, but on the other hand something inside him yearned to get it off his chest. And maybe Snape would understand, having been forced to make impossible choices himself. ''They did it for me,'' he said weakly.

Snape shook his head. ''Have you for once tried considering you are not the centre of the universe, Potter?''

Harry clenched his fists. Just when he thought he had a thread of common understanding with Snape, Snape had to return to the old trick of calling Harry arrogant and pampered like his father. ''I do not think I am! I never had!''

The former spy remained unmoved by the outburst. ''Are you quite done, Potter? I merely wanted to point out your friends would have made the same exact choices even if you had told them to quit. Their loyalty towards you might have been a factor, but first and foremost they were Gryffindors. They desired to do what was right – they desired to fight against the Dark Lord. They wouldn't have waited for the war to come to an end. They would always have made that choice.''

''Tonks was a Hufflepuff,'' Harry muttered.

''She was also an Auror. Yes, you feel sorry for her son, having been orphaned early yourself, but remember she and Lupin knew the risk and the stakes,'' Snape said firmly. ''They all knew. Moreover, as far I am concerned, professor McGonagall forbade underage students from paritcipating in the battle. No one asked Creevey to fight, on the contrary – Creevey chose to disobey the order.''

On the surface Snape's words made sense, but they didn't sit right with Harry. They made Harry's gut twist. Denying them felt like defending his late friends' honour. ''It was me who dragged them into D.A. and the whole 'opposing Voldemort' thing!''

Snape winced at the mention of the once-forbidden name and put his hand over the Dark Mark, squeezing it lightly.

Harry's covered his mouth at the slip up, his anger, directed mostly at himself, replaced with sympathy. ''Sorry, sir... I-I thought it doesn't hurt anymore,'' he said apologetically.

Snape waved his hand dismissively. ''It does not. Not since the Dark Lord died. It's a matter of habit.''

Potions Master words made Harry's sympathy even greater. Snape having been conditioned to expect pain upon hearing Voldemort's name was unfair. And Dumbledore having been throwing the name left and right in Snape's company even more so.

''Regardless,'' the teacher went on. ''I do not think you dragged your friends into anything. Actually, I believe our late Headmaster's bold statements played a much more important role.''

''But I could have stopped them!'' Harry protested.

''No, Potter, you couldn't have. It was war. People die. Not everyone can be saved,'' Snape said firmly. It felt like he was talking from his own experience. Most likely he was. ''You need to make peace with that thought.''

'Only those I couldn't save,' rang in Harry's head and he looked at his teacher's face. A face that hid emotions so well, yet strangely Harry recognised remorse behind it.

''Have talked with your friends about it?'' Snape asked.

Harry shrugged in response. ''Not really. I mean, Ginny and Ron lost their brother and I don't wanna open up that wound. I know they don't blame me, but...'' he sighed and the corner of his mouth twitched. ''Hermione told me something alike the lines of what you've said, that it wasn't my fault and stuff, but I dunno,'' he shrugged again.

Snape took Harry's parchment and started writing down something on the unwritten side of the parchment. ''Regret over things you could not control is useless. It will eat you from the inside, leaving you wishing you had done things differently, when you could not have.'' The teacher returned the parchment to his student. ''I think that's quite enough for today. For the next lesson write down ingredients for antidotes to the listed poisons.''

Harry nodded and got up. He packed the parchment and his book into his rucksack.

''Potter?'' Snape called as Harry was about to open the door. Harry shot him a questioning glance. ''Consider talking the matter we've discussed over with your friends.''

Chapter Text

''Uh, I don't know... are you sure it is a good idea?'' Hermione said insecurily.

Ron rolled his eyes. ''Mione, stop nagging! Don't you wanna meet with Neville?''

The bookworm rubbed her gloved hands against her shoulders. ''Of course I want to!'' she protested and vaporised air escaped her mouth. ''But we've got semestral test the week following the next one.''

''Exactly! That's a lot of time,'' Ron made a face to put an emphasis on his thesis.

Harry smirked at his friends' conversation. It really felt nice to focus on such mundane things like tests and crunching of snow under his feet. He was also glad that school robes were long enough to wear muggle jeans underneath without anyone noticing. He couldn't quite wrap his head around not wearing trousers in winter. Maybe biting cold made Slytherins so bitter and mean.

''You know, I rarely agree with Ron, but he's got a point – it's a Hogmeade weekend,'' Ginny shrugged.

''Oh, alright,'' Hermione grumbled. ''Just don't come whining when you fail your tests, Ron.''

''Have I been ever whining about my grades?'' Ron furrowed his eyebrows.

Harry wrinkled his nose. ''Once or twice maybe?''

''And we're not coming anywhere near the construction site!'' Hermione ordered harshly.

''Ugh, we don't even know if it was the construction site that cursed Harry,'' Ron pointed out.

Harry glanced briefly at his girlfriend. She didn't need to say a word for Harry to recognise she seconded Hermione's doubts. Frankly, Harry had no will to risk getting cursed again as well. ''Yeah, I think Hermione's right,'' he said without much conviction in his voice.

Ron only shot his friend a curious and maybe slightly surprised look. ''How much time do you think it's gonna take to repair the castle?'' he opted for a change of subject.

''Well,'' Hermione made a know-it-all face. ''The construction of the Hogwarts Castle took nearly a quarter of century and the brightest witches and wizards were involved. Only one wall needs to be rebuilt, so...'' she looked up, doing her Maths in her mind. ''Maybe it'll take three years?''

When the quatro arrived at the Three Broomsticks, they found Luna inside, most likely awaiting them.

''Luna!'' Ginny waved at the Ravenclaw.

Blonde's unfocused stare slowly gained clarity. ''Oh, I haven't noticed you,'' she said absent-mindedly.

''Don't worry about that,'' Harry smiled encouragingly, even though he doubted Luna would ever worry about such a thing.

The Gryffindors joined the girl without an invitation. Ron tilted to right and then to left, looking around. ''Listen, is Neville around?''

Luna moved her spectrespecs from her nose to her head. ''No, I assumed he might be busy catching warlocks.''

''On Saturday?'' Ron grimaced.

Hermione snorted. ''You know, Ron, Aurors don't have the usual nine-to-five, Monday to Friday working hours.''

''He's not even a trainee yet,'' Ron remarked slightly offended. ''Besides, it's not like we aren't already working all the time. Ah, I tell you, when we graduate we will have more free time.''

''I hope his entrance exams went well,'' Ginny said anxiously. ''He really put a lot of effort.''

A witch approached their table. ''What will be for you, darlings?'' Madam Rosmerta greeted them.

Harry looked at his friends. ''The usual one. Butterbeer.''

''So you two want to start a career so early?'' Luna turned a page of a book she was reading upside down. At least this time it wasn't the Quibbler magazine.

''Yeah, why?'' Ron asked in a manner that suggested he wasn't really interested in Ravenclaw's opinion. ''What's what everyone's doing.''

''I'm gonna continue my Magizoology studies,'' Luna said without being asked about her post-graduation plans.

Hermione's face lit up at the mention of someone willing to go forward in their studies. ''Oh, but that's splendid!''

''Have you told Hagrid? He'll be overjoyed to find someone pursue the care of magical creatures,'' Harry asked.

''Naturally. Hagrid encourages me every lesson,'' Luna smiled dreamily, probably thinking about some non-existent magical creatures her father had told her about.

''Oh!'' Hermione grabbed a large class of butterbeer rocking in the air near her head.

The rest took the anxiously swinging glasses as well, except for Luna, who was looking at some unspecified point on the wall with her chin rested on her hand. Only when the glass of butterbeer couldn't take it anymore and surrendered to the gravitation with a loud slam against the wooden table, splashing its contents around, the Ravenclaw appeared to notice it.

Luna curiously looked inside the glass and shrugged unfased by the discovery that nearly half of her butterbeer had been spilled.

Ron took a healthy gulf from his glass and licked foam of his mouth.

''Shouldn't we wait for Neville?'' Ginny shot her brother a judging look as she was making circles on the table with her own glass.

''By the time he arrives butterbeer will be completely unsparkled and unfoamed,'' Ron reasoned.

Hermione grimaced. ''I'm not sure if these words even exist...''

As if he had been summoned, Neville ran into the pub panting. He scanned the place for his friends and headed in their direction.

''Sorry, guys, didn't want to keep you waiting,'' Neville swallowed trying to catch his breath.

''You don't have to worry about that. Ron wasn't waiting,'' Ginny said flatly.

''Hey!'' Ron protested.

Harry shook his head, amused by the siblings' banter. ''Glad you made it, mate.''

''Tough day at work?'' Hermione asked sympathetically.

''Uh, no,'' Neville sat down. ''Grandma kept me a bit longer for the housework,'' he added quieter, visibly embarrassed.

''I'd love to help my dad with rebuilding our home,'' Luna said unprompted.

''How your exams went?'' Hermione couldn't stop herself from asking.

This time it was Ron's turn at shotting disapproving glances. ''Hermione, Neville hasn't even ordered a drink yet!''

''Speaking of which, what will be for you?'' Madam Rosmerta appeared next to their table again.

''Erm,'' Neville looked around the table. ''Butterbeer, please.''

''So well-behaved the lot of you,'' the witch chuckled. ''Let me know when you feel like trying some stronger beverages.''

Neville drummed his fingers against the table in an awkward silence. ''I think I failed the Potions,'' he admitted after a moment.

''Come on, mate!'' Ron wrinkled his nose. ''First you said they wouldn't let you take the exam, because you achieved only an 'A' at Potions, now you say you failed Potions. Screw them, who cares about Potions! You'll become an Auror anyway.''

Harry turned around to see if by chance the dour Potions Master wasn't sitting behind them. The man had a thing for appearing out of nowhere. Luckily, there was no Snape within the visible distance.

''It would be cool if they postponed the beginning of your training until October, so we could be in the same year, though. Don't you think?'' Ron went on.

''Thank you,'' Neville nodded at the owner of the pub and took the glass of butterbeer. ''Yeah, it would be nice to have you around.''

''I think you are better at Potions than you think, Neville,'' Hermione offered softly. Harry wasn't certain if she truly meant it. Probably not – Neville was notoriously terrible at Potions. Everyone knew it. ''They'll accept you, you'll see. Though, I must admit I'm happy for Harry taking extra Potions before the N.E.W.T.s.''

Neville choked on his butterbeer. He coughed again before asking ''Since when?''

''Since beginning of this month,'' Harry reluctantly admitted.

''With Snape?'' Neville furrowed his eyebrows as if he was faced with a particularly difficult equation.

''Yup,'' Ginny nodded.

''So, you have them during your detentions or what?'' Neville still wasn't sold on the idea of Harry voluntarily taking extra Potions.

''Snape stopped giving Harry detentions even before Harry got cursed,'' Luna spoke casually, skimming through the book.

''You what?'' Neville stared at Harry incredulously. ''Are you OK?''

''Yeah, it was months ago,'' Harry waved his hand, not wanting to dwell on that period in his life.

''I thought you told Neville,'' Luna mused.

''Anyway, I don't know if the extra classes are worth anything – Snape decided to ban me from using cauldrons before I revise the theory,'' Harry grimaced.

Ron looked at his friend curiously. ''But you are using a cauldron during normal Potions.''

''I know, right? Tell it to the git,'' Harry huffed.

''And I think it's a good thing to have strong theoretical backbone,'' Hermione said.

Noticing Neville's unconvinced expression, Ginny bit inside of her cheek, indecisive. ''A lot has happened since our last meeting in Hogmeade.''

''I can see that! Why haven't told you anything?'' Neville said slightly offended.

Hermione had decency to look ashamed. ''Look, we didn't want to worry you...''

''Harry, you said it was months ago,'' Neville's voice was a bit accusatory.

''More like one and half month ago. At least if we're counting since Harry was cured,'' Hermione corrected warily.

''You could have told me during the Christmas break,'' Neville said reproachfully.

''On the second thought, we should have reached out to you. We might have required information from the Auror Department library,'' Ron recalled.

Neville narrowed his eyes in confusion. ''I don't think they would let me in. But you owe me an explanation, guys.''

The quatro exchanged insecure glances, before filling their friend in. The story called for another round of butterbeer.

''My dad says the Song of the Four Founders had been censored at some point. Don't you think it's suspicious it doesn't mention the famed Founders' relics? Dad has read the poem numerous times in search for clues regarding the diadem,'' Luna spoke casually, appartenly not noticing her friends staring at her as if she shared with them some kind of epiphany. Harry on the other hand was surprised that seemingly it hadn't crossed three Gryffindors' minds to ask Luna about the curse. Sure, the Ravenclaw could be a bit unhinged at times, but actually sometimes had a knowledge about seemingly forgotten lore.

''Do you think they censored the fragment about the curse?'' Ginny pondered on the idea.

''I still don't get it. Why would you be cursed, Harry?'' Neville narrowed his eyes.

''Well, Madam Pomfrey said their best guess is it was caused by my connection to Voldemort,'' Harry said, having swallowed a gulp of butterbeer.

''But why didn't the curse hit him instead then?'' Neville's mind was currently preoccupied with the mystery.

''Horcruxes, maybe?'' Ron shrugged.

---

Hermione might have had a point when she told them they needed more time to prepare for semestral tests than only one week.

Potions were an absolute nightmare. Not that Harry had ever expected them to become easy. As he was leaving the Potions classroom, he was wondering if Snape was going to deem Harry completely unfit for Potions and cancel the extra classes. Well, if he had, Harry at least would not have to waste his time on Golpalott's laws.

Transmutation with only two-classes long break after the Potions, proved itself to be much more difficult than Harry had anticipated. McGonagall's strict gaze didn't make it any easier to concentrate.

Compared to the two Monday semestral tests, Charms were like a piece of cake. Maaaybe a little bit stale cake, considering Harry managed to muck up the Anti-Alohomora charm.

During the Herbology test Harry was actually grateful Hermione had tortured him with Floo flower and violas, as one of questions was to name their differences.

Much to Harry's disappointment, DADA test consisted only of written assignments. A glance at the questions made him recall Snape asking about ghosts and inferi. He had no idea what for he was supposed to describe banshees. It's better to know how to avoid them and how to fight them. 'They shriek', Harry wrote down, scratching his head. He would do so much better in practical exam, he was sure of that.

Back in the Gryffindor common room Harry slouched on a couch in a pose not unlike to Dali's clocks. Ron also looked like a piece of stretched warm wax.

''Oh, I'm sure I failed Arithmancy!'' Hermione lamented.

''Mione, give it a rest,'' Ron drawled. ''I wish I was failing like you.''

''Yeah,'' Harry sighed. ''It's kinda embarrassing I flunked DADA. It was my subject.''

''You don't know that. Maybe it didn't go that bad,'' Ginny said.

''I knew I should have studied harder!'' Hermione went on. ''After all the seventh year semestral tests are supposed to match the N.E.W.T.s' difficulty.''

''Then we are cooked,'' Ron huffed. ''I can't imagine passing this kind of exam.''

''And tomorrow I've got Runes!'' Hermione was unstoppable in her complaining.

Harry grumbled something unintelligible under his nose, thinking of ways to avoid tomorrow's extra Potions. He definitely had spent enough time with Potions this week.

---

Fighting his way through Potter's assignments made Severus wonder if the muggle school system had neglected to teach the boy basic Maths skills. The Golpalott's Second Law clearly stated that the antidote for a simple poison which at least one of ingredients is an uncommon ingredient will be equal to more than the sum of poison's ingredients' counteragents, while the boy in many instances wrote down the recipe for an antidote skipping the one additional ingredient.

He pinched the bridge of his nose in irritation, fearing to think what kind of ludicrous statements he was about to find in Potter's semestral test once he got to reviewing it.

Students complained about the semestral and yearly tests, but the truth was, teachers weren't looking forward to them either. While the brats had at best maybe ten tests to take, teachers had to read through hundreds of them in total for all seven years.

Per usual, the concept of punctuality proved itself to be alien to Potter. The brat ran into the classroom out of breath three past 4 P.M.

''Ah, Potter, I see you have decided to turn up today,'' Severus deadpanned.

''Sorry, sir,'' the boy said not too apologetically and started unpacking his bag.

Severus walked to his own desk and grabbed Gryffindor's last week's assignment. Placing it in front of the boy, he said ''Could you remind me the Golpalott's Second Law?''

''Sooo...'' the boy's gaze landed everywhere but on Severus's face. ''If simple potion is made of at least one uncommon ingredient, the antidote is made of ingredients' counteragents and one additional ingredient.''

''That is correct,'' Severus crossed his arms. He was not going to scold the boy for not giving him a word-for-word description from a book – he preferred students to use their own words instead of reciting books Hermione Granger style. ''Now that you apparently remember the Golpalott's Second Law, explain me, why you omitted the 'one additional ingredient' in five exercises and named a wrong one in three others?'' Severus tapped his finger against the notes in red ink on Potter's assignment.

Potter snorted in contempt. ''And how am I supposed to guess what is the correct secret ingredient, sir? It could be anything – Floo powder, my spit, who knows what else!''

''No, it cannot be anything, Potter,'' Severus said harshly. ''The one final ingredient is determined by the properties of the concoction. Surely professor Slughorn has told you that?''

''Uh, no,'' Potter said insecurily. ''Professor Slughorn said no such a thing.''

''You must have covered all three Golpalott's laws. That principle is true for the second and third law. Professor Slughorn must have told you that,'' Severus explained impatiently. The boy surely slept through the classes and tried to blame his lack of knowledge on Horace.

''Weeell, actually, we've only covered the third one, sir,'' Potter looked down at the assignment, his mind set on not meeting Severus' gaze.

And maybe it was for the best he missed a chance at noticing the startled expression on Severus' face. ''We have no time for your jokes, Potter. Horace must have covered all three Golpalott's laws with you. Your inability to focus on Potions is no excuse for you not remembering the basic principles behind the Golpalott's laws.''

''How many times do you need to hear it, sir!'' Potter clenched his fists and his green eyes were aflame with anger. ''We have never discussed the first and second one!''

Severus inhaled slowly through his nose, trying to calm himself down. The brat wasn't kidding or making up excuses. That much was clear. Fucking Horace, Severus thought. ''You cannot understand the Golpalott's Third Law without knowing the first two. Sweet Merlin!'' Severus turned his attention once more at the boy. ''Why haven't you told me, Potter? I have asked why you had started naming the Golpalott's laws with the third one, have I not? Why haven't told you professor Slughorn covered only that one?'' he asked sharply.

''I dunno,'' Potter shrugged. ''It hasn't really crossed my mind we should have discussed the other ones.''

Severus ran his hand down his face. ''All three laws are part of sixth year curriculum,'' he groaned. Wonderful, simply wonderful. Only at the end of first semester he was finding out he had to cover two leftover sixth year topics with his seventh year classes. He really needed to think of a better career. He exhaled slowly. ''Alright, Potter. The main thought behind Golpalott's laws is that you want to neutralise the poison. Therefore you need counteragents. However, when uncommon ingredients come into play, you need one additional ingredient to complete the process. Uncommon ingredients react differently in the process of brewing from the common ingredients, thus mixing only their counteragents is not enough to neutralise the poison.''

''Yeah, but that's not bringing me any closer to finding the right ingredient,'' Potter cut in.

Severus sighed tiredly. ''Think of it this way – you need some kind of ingredient with properties opposite to the properties of a poison. If a poison is thin, you want the antidote to be thick. If a poison is bright in colour, you want the antidote to be dark, and so on and so forth. I cannot believe professor Slughorn hasn't told you that.''

''Sure,'' Potter still looked unconvinced.

''Now that we discussed this rather basic matter, let's move onto the Golpalott's third law,'' Severus said, writing down tasks for Potter. ''How much to you recall of it?''

''Basically it's like the second law, but with blended poisons,'' Potter said, fidgeting with the edge of the sleeve of his robe. ''You mix antidotes for each of poisons and add an extra ingredient.''

''I am glad to hear you are drawing parallels between the Golpalott's laws,'' Severus said a bit drily, handing the boy a piece of parchment. ''This set of exercises should pose no problems to you, then.''

Observing the brat struggle with the Golpalott's third law, Severus could almost see the proverbial cogs turning inside his head. The unruly locks were covering boy's face and Severus curled his fingers against the desk, resisting the urge to brush them off his face. No, he would not get any closer to the brat. Potter had no idea James Potter was not his father and it was going to stay that way.

''Professor,'' Potter looked up at his teacher. ''If a blended poison is made of simple potions which ingredients are uncommon ingredients, it means the antidote for the blended poison requires counteragents to all the ingredients, plus one additional ingredient for each simple poison with uncommon ingredient, plus one additional ingredient on top for the blended poison?'' the boy was tapping his quill against the parchment.

''Yes, on paper. However, when it comes to brewing the antidote, it is vital to keep the right order. Which means antidotes for the simple potions ideally shoul be brewed separately and then mixed together in a cauldron. Adding the additional ingredient is the last step. If you try to brew an antidote by simply putting all the counteragents one by one at best you are going to get a useless sludge, at worst another poison.''

''Yeah, I think I'll stick to bezoar, then,'' Potter said quietly, but loud enough for Severus to hear. On some level Severus shared the sentiment. He wouldn't have come up with a workaround if he too hadn't thought in his teenage years that Golpalott's laws were rubbish.

When Potter returned the parchment with proposed solutions, some long forgotten part of Severus' psyche wondered if it was what parents felt when a child showed them an absolutely horrendous drawing awaiting a praise. Severus stomped on the thought – the brat was his only by blood and nothing else and he was not going to praise him for wrong answers.

''What have I just told you, Potter? A poison being a blend of the Angel's Trumpet Draught and the Noxious Poison is light in colour. Asphodel would only make it even whiter. The real final ingredient are doxy eggs,'' Severus crossed off Potter's answer with red ink.

''It's easy to say for you. You've got every potion, poison, antidote and ingredient memorised!'' Gryffindor huffed. ''No offence, sir, but I don't really have the time to memorise it all.''

Severus looked at the boy and the bags under his eyes. ''You look unwell, Potter,'' he stated simply. The brat surely hadn't got sick again... Severus would have most likely noticed if he had.

''Yeah, well, how am I supposed to look after five tests in one week, sir?'' the boy said flatly.

''Let's call it a day,'' Severus crossed his arms. ''It is clear you are not paying attention. At this point sitting here with you is a waste of time. Review all three Golpalott's laws for the next lesson.''

Chapter Text

''Potter, could you entertain your classmates and describe all three Golpalott's laws?'' Snape crossed his arms, looking at the student without much interest.

At the mention of the material students didn't recall covering, an anxious whisper arose in the classroom. Even Hermione was caught off guard by the request.

''We haven't talked about the first and the second one, have we?'' Ron wrinkled his nose, asking the same questions many other students were asking.

''I don't know if Slughorn covered it with you, he didn't with us,'' Ginny lowered her voice.

''Uhm, sir,'' Hermione raised her hand as usual in vain – Snape kept ignoring her.

Harry felt his palms getting clammy. ''All three, like the first, the second and the third one?'' he asked after clearing his throat. He looked around the classroom and it became apparent he wasn't the only person who was come over with cold sweat. Why would Snape have asked about the material they had covered only during extra Potions?

Snape impatiently raised an eyebrow. ''Don't make me repeat myself, Potter,'' he said harshly.

''Sir, but we've only discussed the Golpalott's third law,'' Hermione could not take the pressure anymore.

''Granger, five points from Gryffindor for speaking without permission,'' Snape said in a monotone voice. ''Potter, I am waiting.''

Harry swallowed and brushed his palms against his robe. ''Uh, so... the first Golpalott's law says that if a simple potion, uh, I mean poison, is made of only common ingredients, then ummm... the antidote is made of counteragents to poison's ingredients,'' he hung his voice in hesitation.

''Go on, Potter,'' Snape said.

''The second one... if simple poison is made of common... that is if it's made of at least one not common...''

''Uncommon,'' Ron whispered.

''Uh, uncommon ingredient, the antidote is made of more than the sum of counteragents... you need one additional ingredient. The third one is similar, but for blended poisons. The antidote is made of sum antidotes for each poison and one additional ingredient,'' Harry answered, feeling the blood had drained from his face.

Snape nodded. ''That is more or less correct, Potter. You may sit down.''

''The git should have awarded you at least ten points!'' Ron hissed in lowered voice.

''Weasley,'' Snape's silky voice took a threatening note. ''Is there a problem?''

Ron was about to talk back, but Hermione stomped on his foot. ''No, sir,'' he coughed out.

''Just like I thought,'' Snape clipped his hands behind his back. ''As Ms. Granger was generous to point out, professor Slughorn had neglected to present the subject of all three Golpalott's laws as it is required by the sixth year curriculum. Regrettably, you have managed to get promoted to your seventh year ignorant to the existence of the first two laws. This is going to change today,'' he said as he picked a piece of chalk and turned around to face the blackboard.

The boys left the Potions Classroom in foul mood. Asking Harry about something that had been discussed during extra Potions felt like a treason, which was rather ridiculous – Harry knew he should have expected such a low blow from Snape. Meanwhile, Ron was dismayed by the assigments received from the teacher.

''Oh, man! A ten-inch assignment on the first Goldalot's-'' Ron whined.

''Golpalott's,'' Hermione corrected her boyfriend.

''Yeah, that guy,'' Ron rolled his eyes. ''And another ten inches on the second law, both for next week?! The bat is batshit crazy! Harry, couldn't you have done something to stop him?''

''Like what?!'' Harry threw his hands up in the air.

''Like... I dunno, something,'' Ron shrugged. ''You have extra classes with him, you could talk to him or...'' he shrugged once more for the lack of ideas.

''Like he would listen,'' Harry huffed.

''And I can't believe Slughorn omitted such an important topic!'' Hermione said.

''Yeah, well, maybe that's a reason why McGonagall was so eager to let him return to his retirement,'' Ginny mused.

''Your mum said he had been a good teacher,'' Harry recalled.

''It must have been ages ago,'' Ron snorted. ''Though, I wish Slughorn returned. He's more easy-going, he was giving out cool prizes. Snape's all about punishment. What is it, Hermione?'' he looked at his girlfriend, whose mind was quite clearly occupied with something else than the ongoing conversation.

Hermione fixed her grip on her books. ''Do you think McGonagall is going to hand out our tests?''

''Don't you have anything better to talk about?'' Ginny sighed.

''Snape didn't. I don't see why McGonagall would,'' Harry said simply.

On Wednesday the trio went to see Hagrid. The crunch time didn't leave much occassions to see their friends, especially considering they had spent their free time on meeting with Neville. Harry hoped Hagrid wasn't hurt they had chosen to see their former classmate. The half-giant's feelings sometimes tended to be easy to wound.

When they knocked on the door of Hagrid's hut, it appeared that its owner wasn't there. Even Fang wasn't anywhere near – if he were inside, they would have heard his excited woofing.

The students went to see if the Care of Magical Creatures teacher was present in his garden. It didn't come as surprise that Hagrid wasn't there as well. Most likely he would have noticed he had visitors if he were in such close proximity to his hut.

''I guess we will have to postpone our visit,'' Ron said sourly.

''Not necessarily,'' Hermione smirked. ''Look!'' she pointed at the nearby trees, which marked the edge of the Forbidden Forest.

Harry narrowed his eyes to get a better focus. Indeed, two silhouettes were standing behind the trees, one of them much taller – and in general greater – than the other, more slender one.

Without much thinking the trio marched towards the Forbidden Forest's borders.

''Oh, no, not him! What is he even doing here?'' Ron groaned as they were close enough to see the person talking to Hagrid was Snape.

''Probably collecting ingredients,'' Hermione reasoned.

''In February?'' Ron asked dubiously.

''Well, I guess it's too late to turn back now,'' Harry said flatly as Hagrid waved at them.

''Harry! Ron! Hermione!'' the half-giant greeted them loud enough to be heard from the distance that was still separating them, encouraging the teenagers who stopped in their tracks to walk closer.

''Yeah, I guess you are right,'' Ron said not too enthusiastically.

However, as soon as they arrived at the edge of the forest, Snape had quite a different greeting prepared for them. ''Students are not allowed to enter the Forbidden Forest without a permission. That is why it is called the 'Forbidden Forest','' he spoke the last sentence slowly, like he was talking to bunch of half-wits.

''Give 'em a rest, Professor. They're with me!'' Hagrid said proudly.

''As you wish, Hagrid,'' Snape said stiffly. ''I won't keep you any longer,'' he turned towards the garden.

A loud screech followed a bird-like shadow. All five people raised their heads to see a magnificent hippogriff lowering its flight, looking for a spot to land. Harry noticed the Potion's Master face grow slightly paler, but the man remained composed if not pretending to be disinterested.

''Look who came ter greet yeh!'' Hagrid smiled at the sight of the beast so familiar to the trio.

Buckbeak landed, knocking down snow from the branches of nearby trees. Contrary to what Hagrid had just said, he wasn't too interested in the students. Instead, he turned his vengeful glare at the former spy.

Snape stood expectantly with his legs slightly bent, apparently ready to repeat his record-breaking run, yet he maintained eye contact with the beast, not blinking even for a fraction of second.

''Beaky, no!'' Hagrid waved his hands in front of the hippogriff as the beast screeched again. ''Erm... That is, I wanted ter say, Witherwings.''

Hermione nervously dug her fingers into Ron's coat.

''We all know that is one and the same hippogriff,'' Snape hissed impatiently, bowing slightly while still looking Buckbeak right into eyes.

''Beaky, professor Snape's a friend!'' Hagrid said quickly as the hippogriff moved his head.

As if to confirm Hagrid's statement, Snape deepened his bow. Which definitely wasn't a beneficial posture if the hippogriff decided to chase him again.

Buckbeak tilted his head right and blinked, seemingly assessing if the man in black robes was sincere.

Hagrid kept waving his hands in a calming manner. '''S fine, Beaky, 's fine. Professor Snape was workin' fer Dumbledore. McGonagall trusts him. He's a friend.''

The hippogriff snapped his beak and tilted his head left as if to get a better angle. Harry could almost see the conflict in the beast's eyes. He had a thought to take a step forward and speak to Buckbeak, but the second thought reminded him hippogriffs didn't take interruptions easily.

Then the hippogriff turned his attention to Harry at last and the boy's first instinct was to bow politely. However, it seemed that it wasn't what the beast had expected of Harry – the boy could feel hippogriff's questioning gaze on him. Careful not to make any sudden movements, Harry nodded, hoping the message was received.

The hippogriff turned his head to face Severus Snape once more and with some hesitation, bowed back.

''I hope it means that matter is settled between us?'' Snape asked once he straightened up.

''Sure it is!'' Hagrid's booming laughter startled some small, rabbit-like forest creature. ''Give good ol' Beaky a pat, professor!''

''I don't think the hippogriff wants to be petted,'' Snape said drily.

''Oh, well,'' Hagrid wiped his hands against his coat awkwardly. ''Maybe next time.''

''I will see you in the castle,'' Snape said stiffly, fixed the bag hanging on his shoulder and left.

''Good Beaky. Got somethin' fer yeh!'' the gamekeeper showed the hippogriff a ferret carcass and threw it at the animal. Buckbeak cought the poor dead ferret and swallowed it whole. ''Smart Beaky,'' Hagrid pat hippogriff's beak. ''But yeh didn't have teh yell at professor!'' he rebuked the beast. ''Well,'' he clapped his hands. ''We should go. Yer gonna freeze!''

''What was even Snape doing here?'' Ron couldn't stop himself from asking on their way to Hagrid's hut.

''Professor Snape, Ron,'' Hagrid corrected him, much to red-head's annoyance. ''He was picking some ingredients, fer his potions, yeh see.''

''Ha! Told you,'' Hermione shoved Ron playfully.

''Oh, yeah, because there are so many herbs and insects to collect in February,'' Ron crossed his arms, currently defending his initial question rather for the principle than for his unwavering opinion on the matter.

''Primhoolas are bloomin' early this year, would yeh believe that?'' Hagrid chuckled jovially.

Harry furrowed his eyebrows. He had no idea what primhoolas were – probably another wixen plant known to every child in the wizarding world Harry had never heard of – and had no will to ask about them. If they were used as a potion ingredient, Snape probably was going to make him find out soon, anyway,

''Don't they bloom like by the end of February? The month's just started,'' Ron pointed out with disbelief.

''Spring's gonna come early this year,'' Hagrid reasoned.

''Can't see it coming, frankly,'' Ron rubbed his forearms to make a point.

''And where's Fang?'' Harry asked to change the subject to something he was more familiar with.

''Oh, he must be runnin' somewhere near. Fang!'' Hagrid called the dog and whistled.

''In Forbidden Forest?'' Hermione asked.

''Fang? What yeh, Hermione! Fang would never! He's too scared ter go there alone,'' Hagrid smiled cheerfully.

''You're in a very good mood today,'' Ron concluded, looking at the half-giant's smile.

''Ah, yes. 's a good day – the Sun shines, the snow on the ground. Had a good talk with Grawp. Soon it's gonna be the time fer the gardening stuff. Gonna tell yeh somethin', but it's a secret, alright?'' Hagrid lowered his voice. ''I'm gonna have the largest spinach this year. As big as a giant cabbage!'' he said as they were passing by his garden.

---

''I must say I am not too pleased with the performance of some of my students,'' O'Cathail said haughtily. ''I cannot say I am surprised with Slytherins' overall results, but I expected better from my Gryffindors.''

''Is she offending us or Slytherins?'' Ron whispered uncertainly.

''Both, I guess,'' Harry said unhappily.

''I wonder what got into her. It surely can't be that bad, can it?'' Ron mused, while Hermione was shaking anxiously.

The head of Gryffindor shot them a disapproving glance but refrained from making further comments about their disobedience. Instead, she waved her wand and their semestral tests landed on their desks.

''Oh, man, I really hoped it would take her longer to check them,'' Ron sighed.

Harry reluctantly looked down at the grade on his test, which read 'E--'. O'Cathail must have been truly repulsed by the thought of grading Harry with an 'A'. Which was even more humiliating than receiving an actual 'A' would have been. Harry huffed irritated and turned the sheet of paper upside down to hide the grade.

To avoid thinking about the fiasco of the test, Harry shifted his attention to the portraits on the walls of the classroom. Unlike the time of Snape's reign over the DADA classroom, it was decorated with the portraits of various Aurors, instead of gruesome pictures of victims of curses. Harry didn't even want to think how the Carrows had decorated the classroom.

One of the portraits depicted Alastor Moody with his mad eye scrutinising the students. However, the lack of Tonks' picture renewed Harry's disappointment every time he entered the classroom. Gryffindor supposed the pictures represented Aurors that O'Cathail held in high esteem, and he wouldn't be surprised if the gallery featured portraits of O'Cathail's parents.

''Potter, in normal circumstances, I would have expected a better result, but considering your prolonged absence, I believe five points for Gryffindor are in order, for Ms. Granger's help,'' the DADA teacher said, most likely noticing Harry's efforts at not paying attention to his test.

Hermione sighed relieved at the sight of her report. ''I thought it would be much worse.''

Ron peeked over her shoulder. ''That's because it was a theoretical test.''

''What do you mean by that?!'' Hermione snapped at him.

''Nothing,'' Ron said placatingly. ''Just wanted to point out you usually do better with written exams than at practical tests in DADA.''

''Oh, you are just jealous!'' Hermione turned her back on her boyfriend.

''She's not gonna talk to me today, is she?'' Ron muttered dissatisfied.

''Yep. Good job, Ron,'' Ginny said.

---

Harry let his feet carry him to the Potions classroom. The extra Potions truly felt like a waste of time, but it was too late to call them off without putting himself in the danger of finding himself at the receiving end of Snape's anger.

''Since you have apparently mastered the Golpalott's laws, if it may be called that way, we can move onto Seamange's Stirring Law, which describes the relation between the structure of ingredients and the stirring pattern,'' Snape did not beat around the bush with the pleasantries of greetings.

Harry put his bag on the desk more forcefully than necessarry. ''Oh, great, another law you can ask me about in front of the entire classroom,'' he crossed his arms.

''Don't be childish, Potter,'' Snape said coldly.

Harry clenched his fists. Snape had no right to tell him his anger wasn't justified. ''We haven't even covered the other Golpalott's laws during normal Potions and yet you asked me! I didn't think the extra Potions meant harder tasks during normal Potions! It's unfair!''

''I dedicate you more of my attention, you brat, therefore I demand more of you,'' Snape hissed.

''Oh, how wonderful you're telling me this only now. I can't recall you mentioning it earlier, sir!'' Harry spat.

''Potter, I insist you calm down,'' Snape's voice was icy.

''Or what?! You had no right! It was humiliating!'' Harry roared.

Snape crossed his arms and sceptically raised an eyebrow. ''I cannot see how answering correctly was humiliating, Potter. If anything it might have actually changed your peers' opinion about your Potions expertise for the better.''

''Of course you can't! Making fun of me is second nature to you, aint' it, sir?! Why you always ask me in front of the entire classroom about things I have no way of knowing?''

''Potter, I suggest you think twice before you speak,'' Snape remained eerily composed. ''Ten points from Gryffindor.''

Harry, however, was not going to let the man win. He wanted a quarrel, he wanted the man to yell back at him. ''Why don't you take away all the points, while you are at it?''

''A tempting proposition. I'm sure your fellow Gryffindors would appreciate it,'' Snape said flatly.

''And why are we even talking about all these laws? They are rubbish! There are more exceptions to them than ways to use. It's a fraud!''

''Do you need to remind you how you managed to make the Draught of Peace explode? Or do you need to see how poorly you have done on your semestral test, Potter?'' Snape spoke more harshly this time.

Oh, so Snape has actually checked the tests. Splendid, Harry sighed internally, thinking about the upcoming Monday.

''Well, maybe you can't teach, sir!'' Harry said instead, staring the Potions Master right into his eyes, that narrowed threateningly.

Snape inhaled sharply through his large nose and it seemed he was actually going to go for the option Harry had recklessly suggested a moment ago. The boy wondered if the teacher was thinking in this very moment about the failure that Occlumency lessons had been.

''So, out of sudden you want to brew a potion that badly, Potter? Fine, let's have it your way,'' Snape sneered. ''Brew me the Draught of Living Death.''

''Why are you so obssessed with that potion?!'' Harry threw up his hands in the air, the memory of the very first Potions lesson with Snape brought to the front of his mind.

''Potter, I warn you, you are stepping on a thin ice,'' Snape hissed and turned around making his robes billow dramatically as he headed for the seat at the teacher's desk.

Harry huffed under his breath and grabbed a cauldron from the backroom. He should have probably considered himself lucky the argument hadn't escalated further. Which didn't mean he did.

***

Severus was questioning why he even bothered trying to teach the brat anything. Potter had proven himself uncooperative at every possible turn. Naturally, the brat had to start a fight over a tiniest inconvenience. Two years ago, hell, maybe even a mere year ago Severus would have had fallen for the bait and let himself be dragged into it, but now he just shot the brat who was throwing a tantrum an unamused glance. Maybe he was simply getting old.

Having decided the best way to prove a point to the stubborn Gryffindor was to let him fail spectacularly once more, he sat behind his desk and returned to reviewing semestral tests. It was clear as day that no words would break through that thick skull of the saviour of the wizardkind, so maybe Potter's own mistakes would.

The classroom was unusually silent, the only sounds accompanying the two wizards were the scrape of Snape's quill against parchment, hiss of fire under the cauldron and the sound of brew being stirred. From time to time Severus cast a glance in Potter's direction, making sure the boy didn't set the classroom on fire.

One of those glances Potter's actions drew Severus' attention. He put some student's test aside and quietly stood up, not to disturb the Gryffindor. Severus furrowed his eyebrows, not expecting to see the boy to stirring clockwise after the seventh counterclockwise stir. Severus' amazement did not end there – judging from the stains on the wooden desk the beans had been crushed instead of cut. The boy hadn't even bothered opening up Advanced Potions-Making. For a good few seconds Severus stared at the boy as if he had grown a second head. Frankly, had Potter grown another one, Severus would have been less surprised.

Severus chuckled inwardly, the only sign of his amusement was a slight curl of his lips. It couldn't be – out of almost six years that Severus has spent teaching the brat Potions, the boy has only learnt about the use of bezoar and the alternative way of brewing the Draught of Living Death. Both of which he had learnt when Severus hadn't acted as the Potions Master, from Severus' own book, moreover. Well, it was true what they said – forbidden fruit is the sweetest. Sweet enough to make Potter learn a thing or two. Severus wasn't exactly sure if he could utilise that discovery to lure the boy into putting more effort into his studies – whatever knowledge that he would offer the boy right now would most likely miss that alluring aura.

''Potter, this is not Borage's recipe,'' Severus said matter-of-factly, startling the boy.

Potter looked up with his green eyes like hers, exactly like hers, and then looked down embarrassed. His face at first turned pale only to gain a red tint. ''No, it's yours,'' he said meekly.

''I can see that,'' Severus said without malice in his voice, having found the absurdity of the ordeal more entertaining than he should probably have.

''I told you, you could write a book, Professor,'' Potter still didn't dare to look up. Instead the boy nervously scratched the back of his hand, making Severus worry if that awful toad's twisted punishment somehow found its way back to boy's hand. Thankfully, upon closer look it did not appear to be a case.

''Maybe after all I can teach, Potter,'' Severus shook his head, still uncharacteristically amused. His unexpectedly good mood took him by surprise.

''Yeaaah, sorry about that, sir,'' Potter said insecurily, his sight was still glued to the wooden desk. ''And sorry about the book... I kinda lost... well, it was lost in the fire in the room of requirement,'' this time the boy scratched the back of his neck.

Severus didn't feel saddened by the loss of the old book. ''That's probably for the better. It should have never got into your hands, Potter. Or anyone's else for that matter.'' Yes, Severus should have burnt the book. Yet he had not and maybe the universe had its ways of providing The-Boy-Who-Lived with a hand-me-down from a relative the boy had no idea he had (and vice versa). That thought was ludicrous... but so would have been the notion of Potter's true lineage not even a year ago.

''It was useful, though,'' Potter shrugged.

''Yes, I can imagine,'' Severus said a bit drily, thinking about the Sectumsempra accident with Draco. ''May I inquire how you came into the possession of the book?''

''Professor Slughorn lent it to me. I thought I didn't qualify for N.E.W.T.-level Potions, so I didn't buy my own copy,'' Potter bit his bottom lip, clearly uncomfortable with talking about the matter. Severus had a feeling it wasn't the story in its entirety, knowing that the boy most likely had purchased the newest copy at later date, but didn't press further.

Severus glanced at the content of the cauldron once more. The potion had the right colour for this stage of brewing. Whether he liked it or not, Severus got a dose of his own medicine – the boy had actually proven himself capable of brewing even difficult potions, even though Severus still had hard time believing that. ''Alright, Potter. You managed to convince me to cover with you the practical side of Potions during our extra classes.''

''Wait, really?!'' brat's green eyes turned at Severus.

''Yes, but just dare to set anything on fire – Seamange will be waiting for you,'' Severus crossed his arms.

Chapter Text

Severus was pleasantly surprised how this week's extra Potions lesson had turned out in the end, mentally patting himself on the back for not falling into Potter's trap. Which would have been the most natural thing – something within the boy made arguing with him such an easy task. And it was clear there were times the boy desperately wanted other people to get into a verbal fight with him.

However, the fact the boy had memorised so many of Severus' inventions from his teenage years, made the teacher unreasonably restless. Never would he have thought Potter actually being able to successfully brew a potion would affect him so. And yet the thought irrationally warmed up something inside Severus' chest. Something he refused to give a name to.

The former spy grimaced, pinching the bridge of his nose and put the stack of tests aside. What he really needed to do right now was to clear his head, not to think about Potter.

It was already past curfew and Severus relished the empty, delightfully devoid of brats dimly lit corridors. Nevertheless, out of teacher's habit, a portion of his attention was still dedicated to picking up any signs of students' activity. A sight of a shadow moving past the walls woke him from his musings. He didn't have to wait for the shadow to be followed by its owner.

''You are lucky you are not a student, Snape,'' O'Cathail greeted him.

''Likewise, O'Cathail,'' Severus nodded courteously.

''Well, this is not your turn at patrolling the castle. May I ask what might you be doing out of your quaters at such a late hour?'' elderly witch's grey eyes were boring into him as if she was trying to read something from his face.

Severus clipped his hands behind his back. ''I decided to take a break from marking semestral tests,'' he answered simply. ''Speaking of which, how are you finding your first semester as a teacher?''

O'Cathail snorted. ''I think you are forgetting you are not a headmaster anymore,'' she pointed out harshly. Even though the woman could get on his nerves, Severus appreciated the directness in showing her dislike for him.

''I am not forgetting anything, O'Cathail. I just asked my new colleague how was she doing,'' Severus' stroll matched the DADA teacher's pace.

''Teaching is a piece of cake compared to the job of an Auror,'' O'Cathail said with an aura of superiority. ''I'll have you know I returned the tests to our seventh-years this Thursday.''

''I congratulate you on your novice enthusiasm,'' Severus said drily. ''How would you grade DADA expertise of our dear Mr. Potter?''

O'Cathail only shot Severus a side glance. ''I know your opinion on Potter's overall performance. Frankly, I think he did remarkably well considering his stay in the Hospital Wing and then in St. Mungo's. And while you might be right he is not the most skilled in written assignments, no one in their right mind would question his mastery in the practical side.'' Severus snorted disapprovingly, making no effort in hiding what he thought about that statement, but O'Cathail went on. ''And while we are talking about Potter, I don't see why you keep inquiring me about a student who is not a Slytherin.''

''You should consider yourself lucky you will not be able to see Potter in his entire The-Boy-Who-Lived glory. Had you spent seven years of your life trying to protect a brat who does everything in his power to get himself killed, you too would keep asking about him,'' Severus explained matter-of-factly.

''The war is over, Snape,'' O'Cathail reminded.

''Yes, thankfully it is, but do not act as if you hadn't mentioned Potter's mishap with the curse. I had to deal with this kind of merry adventures for years, even before Dark Lord's return,'' Severus huffed. He was becoming too careless – O'Cathail was right he should have no reason to ask about the boy. And the woman, being a retired Auror, was awfully perceptive. Frankly, Severus wouldn't put it past her to investigate what didn't require investigation.

''And how are Potter's Potions? I've heard about the extra classes from Minerva.''

''As the head of Gryffindor you will be pleased to hear Potter shows chances of making some progress. It only took him seven years, but I am hardly surprised – James Potter was no potioneer and the boy takes a lot from his father,'' Severus sneered, putting an old mask of contempt that fit like a glove.

''Maybe the boy will get a chance at becoming an Auror, after all,'' O'Cathail smirked smugly and Severus couldn't resist a feeling the DADA teacher was looking forward to Potter joining Aurors ranks.

On Monday Severus gave away the semestral test to the seventh-year Slytherin-Gryffindor class. The annoyance on brats' faces was something that was worth awaiting. Persephone Brownleek crossed her arms and nonchalantly rested her back against the chair, showing her indifference to her results, while another one of his Slytherins, Titus Avery, was muttering in panic that his mother was going to kill him. Ronald Weasley was most likely convinced Severus would not hear him whisper angrily how Potions were a waste of time, while his sister opted for a single heavy sigh. Hermione Granger was seemingly on the verge of mental breakdown (the girl's ambition was going to kill her one day, Severus was sure of that). Harry Potter shot his teacher a fiery glare, probably a foretaste of another yelling fit that was about to come next Friday.

Ravenclaw-Hufflepuff seventh-years reaction to their tests wasn't much more enthusiastic. Severus not for the first time cursed Horace – if not for his low standards, Severus' N.E.W.T.-level classes would not have been this crowded and headache-inducing.

The majority of problems with older students stemmed from their hormones and the way they liked to display their lack of respect. Younger students even if didn't have much respect for Severus or his subject usually were too scared to voice their thoughts and objections aloud. Of course, Severus had been there, like every young wizard, but he would have found it a little more tolerable if the brats exercised their teenage bravado in a more intelligent way.

On the other hand, N.E.W.T.-level classes were much more intellectually entertaining, especially if he had the right participants. Severus had called a first-year Gryffindor-Slytherin, brain-numbing lesson about the Forgetfullness Potion a day and started packing his own belongings, but a sight of a Slytherin girl slowly putting her book into a bag like she was trying to do everything in her power not to pack her bag up alarmed him.

''Sigwyn, are you not heading for the Great Hall for the lunch?'' Severus raised an eyebrow.

Fear passed through girl's eyes. ''Uhm, yes, professor Snape.''

''Or is there a matter you wish to discuss?'' Severus asked carefully.

The girl gasped and paled. ''No... I'm just leaving, professor.''

Severus was way too experienced teacher not to notice something was bothering young Slytherin. ''Come, sit down, leave your bag,'' he offered the girl a chair. Upon meeting her frightened and slightly confused expression, he went on. ''Don't worry, it should not take us long. You will get for lunch on time.''

Elleanor Sigwyn reluctantly took the seat, but remained silent.

''As the head of Slytherin it is my duty to ensure my wards well-being. You can tell me anything that is worrying you.'' Merlin give him strength, he was not good at this kind of conversations. ''Is it about your parents?'' He cautiously tested the waters, having heard of girl's parents having been accused of allying themselves with Death Eaters and arrested for that reason.

The girl shook her head.

''You can tell me. Whatever it is, I want to hear about it. You stayed because you wanted to talk,'' Severus pointed out the obvious.

''I didn't, sir,'' Elleanor Sigwyn protested with her childish stubbornness, probably thinking the Potions Master was not going to see through this pitiful attempt at deceit. The young snake had still a lot to learn in this regard.

''Is it about other students? Were they mean to you?''

''No... I-I really need to go for lunch, sir,'' the girl stuttered, giving away Severus hit the bullseye.

''Who was it?'' An inner call might have not pushed Severus to become a teacher and he tried to make it clear with every passing lesson, but he would not tolerate any of his Slytherins suffering from bullying. His own experience was the best testament what it could do to a person.

''No-No one, professor, I told you,'' the girl shrugged.

''Sigwyn, if it happened to you, it could have happened to your friends as well. By disclosing that person's identity you are protecting yourself and your friends. I will do everything in my power to ensure you will be met with no backslash,'' Severus assured.

''I don't know, sir!'' the girl burst into tears. ''Some-some boy,'' she sniffed. ''Older... I don't know his name. He said I should've been locked in Azkaban with my parents. He-he said there's no place for people like me in Hogwarts,'' tears were running down girl's cheeks as she sniffed loudly again.

Severus turned around and reached for a box hidden in a drawer of his desk. ''Help yourself,'' he offered the girl a tissue sticking out of the box.

Elleanor insecurily raised her eyes to meet the teacher's gaze and silently accepted the offer, blowing her nose into a tissue.

''He pulled my hair and-and wouldn't stop,'' the girl gasped between sobs.

In the Great Hall Severus studied carefully the Gryffindor's table. Sigwyn had not been able to describe how her perpetrator had looked, except for looking rather dull with mousy hair and wearing a Gryffindor robe. The description fitted Dennis Creevey and knowing brat's achievements in this regard thus far, Severus was ready to place his bet on him. He would not have been surprised either if it were Eusebius Purflor, who had already assaulted young Slytherins a few times this year, if not for the fact the boy had darker hair.

His sight slid past Potter who was busy talking with his friends and laughing. Deep down inside Severus was glad the boy didn't look at him. He had no will to look into his green eyes in this very moment and be met with with Lily's accusation shining in Potter's eyes. A hypocrite, that's what she would have called him and maybe she would have been right. The Potions Master grimaced expelling the thought and looked down at his plate.

Cutting down his roast, Severus glanced at O'Cathail. He wasn't exactly sure if the current head of Gryffindor was going to act in any meaningful way, especially considering many of Slytherin students' parents indeed were Death Eaters.

''Minerva, I would like to speak to you after the lunch if you are amenable?'' he addressed his superior.

''Why, of course, Severus. What is it, may I ask?'' Minerva asked earnestly, most likely noticing the decisiveness in his voice.

''For now, let's just say it concerns the tensions among the students. But I hardly think the Great Hall is the right place to discuss this issue,'' Severus looked at Hagrid who knocked over a tea jug on poor Filius, much to students' entertainment. The Ravenclaw kept assuring the embarrassed half-giant that stains on his robes were not a problem at all.

After the lunch Severus followed the Headmistress to her office.

''The animosity between houses is getting out of hand, Minerva.''

''You've never been the one to beat around the bush,'' the woman pointed out, edges of her lips slightly curling up at his forwardness. ''Who got in a fight this time?''

''That's the part of the problem. We've learnt to accept the enmity as a fact of life. Frankly, I am tired of chasing the brats to catch them red-handed,'' Severus crossed his arms. ''One of your Gryffindors assaulted a first-year Slytherin. I suspect it was the younger Creevey – if you check with Argus, you will find Creevey's records have become rather voluminous in this department. That being said, this is not solely a Gryffindor problem, even though your cubs' pre-eminence is evident. Only last month a Ravenclaw student joined Creevey in bullying another first-year Slytherin.''

''To be precise, I am not a head of Gryffindor anymore, Severus,'' Minerva reminded.

The Potions Master snorted. ''Naturally, Headmistress. Which does not change the fact everyone still views you as one.''

''Well,'' Minerva sighed. ''They'll get used to changes. Back to the matter at hand, why won't you assign them detention?''

''Please, you know me well enough to assess how many hours Creevey already has spent in detention. I would not have come to you if detentions were effective.''

''What do you expect me to do then? I can't expell Creevey on the grounds of bullying other students,'' the Headmistress raised an eyebrow to make an emphasis.

Some part of Severus wanted to ask 'Why the hell not?', but he knew it would be a pointless question. ''Then persuade other heads of houses to act more strictly to such occurences. Maybe they will come across more motivating punishments than scraping cauldrons, tidying up Argus' precious collection of write-ups and polishing silvers,'' Severus straightened his back.

''As if you couldn't come up with other detention activities,'' Minerva said tiredly.

''Even the most harsh punishment imposed by me wouldn't as effective as a punishment imposed by a head of perpetrator's house. You are as well aware as I am that the main issue with my detentions is that the students, even though they fear me, do not respect me as they respect heads of their houses,'' Severus turned his head towards the bookshelf, grimacing at his superior's apparent unwillingness to tackle the problem at hand. ''Especially considering my former allegiance, I fear some may treat my detentions as a badge of honour,'' the Potions Master absent-mindedly reached to squeeze his forearm around his Dark Mark.

''Don't be absurd, Severus! You were acquitted. By all means, you are a war hero,'' the witch spoke firmly.

Severus scoffed. It was clear as day not everyone shared Minerva's sentiment. Hell, even Severus did not consider himself a hero. What kind of hero joined a cult that targeted the person he loved? What kind of hero gave away intelligence that led to death of the person they cared about?

''I think Severus might be right, Minerva,'' the portrait of Dumbledore spoke gently yet decisively. ''Something should be done about the unfair treatment of young Slytherin students.''

If looks could kill, and if paintings could die, the portrait would drop dead right now. ''You are the one to talk. The person you represent had never done anything to mitigate the animosity between houses,'' Severus bared his yellow crooked teeth in contempt.

''I am aware I had not done enough and I regret it deeply,'' the portrait of late headmaster said solemnly.

''You are merely a painting, you cannot regret anything!'' Severus barked, narrowing his eyes at the painting.

''Severus...,'' Minerva sighed and glanced conflicted at the portrait of her late superior. ''Albus, I think it would be advisable for you to refrain from attending this conversation.''

''I, for one, have to agree with Dumbledore. I will not stand for prejudice against Slytherin,'' said Phineas Nigellus Black.

''It's not that I disagree with Severus. I am trying to think of measure that would effectively deter students from bullying their peers,'' the Headmistress said calmly. ''Let's get this done this way: I will call a heads of houses' meeting on Saturday, where we will discuss the matter. Meanwhile I am going to ponder on the solution.''

Severus nodded politely. ''I would appreciate it, Minerva.''

---

The week was reaching its conclusion quickly. Severus was not even sure there the week had gone when the (in)famous Harry Potter crossed the threshold of the Potions classroom on Friday afternoon.

''I think, Potter, you cannot any longer reasonably deny you have a lot of Potions material to cover, should you wish to become an Auror,'' Severus greeted the brat referring to his semestral test. Potter's only response was his jaw tightening. ''Today you are going to revise Amortentia. You do remember the usage of the potion, I suppose?''

''It's a love potion, sir,'' the boy said reluctantly.

''Correct, Potter, Amortentia is a love potion. It might come as a surprise to you, but there are plenty of love potions,'' Severus crossed his arms. ''What makes it so special?''

''Uh,'' Potter drawled, clearly embarrassed by the subject. ''It makes you smell what you love even if you don't drink it.''

''It smells differently to every person, fooling everyone to think they smell what attracts them, to be precise. Digestion, howsoever inadvisable, has nothing to do with that specific property of Amortentia,'' Severus corrected disapprovingy. He chose to pretend not to have heard the brat mutter 'That's what I said.'

''Moreover, Amortentia is the strongest love potion known to the wizardkind. Since the potion appears to be vivid in your memory, we shall not waste any time. Get your cauldron and get to brewing,'' the Potions Master instructed.

With a heavy sigh, Potter grabbed a gold-coloured cauldron and then send Severus a slightly disoriented look.

''Yes, Potter, it is advisable you open up your book,'' Severus said maybe a bit too sardonically, but he coudn't help himself – the brat begged for a backslash with his audacity.

Potter made another displeased face, which was most likely supposed to communicate the depths of his misery, but refrained from commenting this time. He opened up his book and put his finger on the ingredients list.

Severus stood several meters away from the boy, observing him as he walked to the cabinet to retrieve the required elements. Pearl dust, powdered moonstone, rose petals and thorns, ashwinder eggs and nutmeg. Severus narrowed his eyes – maybe there was something he could teach the brat, after all.

''Potter, do you perhaps have dark chocolate with you today?'' the older wizard asked smoothly.

Gryffindor sent his teacher a suspicious glance. ''No, professor, why?''

''Shame. Replacing nutmeg with dark chocolate, as long as it is grated, diminishes side-effects of Amortentia,'' Severus said matter-of-factly. ''Some potioneers were successful in replacing nutmeg with thyme, but the overall results are inconclusive. There was even an instance of a bat brain being utilised in the place of nutmeg.''

''Ohhh, alright,'' Potter spoke warily, looking at his teacher. ''I'll be sure to remember that,'' he added absent-mindedly moving jars in the cabinet from side to side. Severus was sure the boy would not remember anything from what Severus had just said if he asked him during next Potions.

Once the boy decided he had all the ingredients, he returned to his desk and lit the fire under his cauldron. First he poured a cup of water and when it warmed up a bit, he glanced at his textbook and reached for the rose petals. He put a handful of petals into a mortar and started grinding them.

''A drop of melaleuca oil helps soften the petals and slightly increases the duration of the potion,'' Severus said deliberately.

''The book doesn't mention that, sir,'' Potter pointed out the obvious.

''I know, Potter,'' Severus said flatly.

''Your book didn't mention that one, either,'' the boy said cautiously.

''Yes, this is one of my later discoveries,'' Severus expectantly raised an eyebrow.

''Hmpf,'' Gryffindor, biting the inside of his cheek, glanced at his teacher and then at the cauldron. He left his desk and headed for the cabinet once more. ''A what?'' he asked.

''Sir,'' Severus reminded coldly.

The brat rolled his eyes. ''A what, sir?''

Severus internally sighed. Trying to teach the boy some manners was a lost case. ''Melaleuca oil. You may heard of it under the name of tea tree oil.''

Having acquired a bottle of tea tree oil, the student returned to his desk. He let a drop of the oil fall into the mortar and resumed grinding. Later he added the petals into the cauldron, cleaned the mortar and began grinding the thorns.

After few moments of relative silence, only disturbed by the hiss of fire and the sound of stirring, Potter suddenly opened up his mouth to speak.

''Slughorn said my mum had been good at Potions,'' he spoke out of nowhere.

Severus wondered what prompted the boy to word this statement – it hardly could be called a question, after all. Did he know that the smell of the potion he was brewing once it was ready was going to make Severus think of Lily? Of dirty grass on the banks of Cokeworth's river, old books and, most importantly, of the subtle smell of lilies?

''Sorry,'' Gryffindor muttered quietly, embarrassed he brought up such a sensitive subject.

Severus jaw went rigid. It was clear the brat had never got a chance to talk about Lily, having been acquaintanced only with Potter's friends. From what Severus had gathered, the majority of Lily's friends from her school times were dead or mentally incapacitated. He had no idea if she made any new friends after they had fallen out, leaving Severus the only person to carry on Lily's memory, of who she truly had been. He was not ready to talk with the brat about the woman he loved and that he led to an untimely demise, or with anyone else, truthfully. Yet he owed that to Lily and so much more. It was his fault her son had never got a chance to get to know her. That she had never got a chance to see her son grow up. And so Severus swallowed his pride.

''Your mother wasn't 'good' at Potions. She was exceptional,'' the Potions Master said, having student's full attention now. ''Something you clearly haven't inherited from her,'' he deadpanned.

''Yes, well...'' the boy looked away and shrugged insecurily.

Severus inhaled slowly, being fully aware he was going to regret the offer later. ''Should you have any questions concerning your mother, feel free to ask. Today or during extra Potions to come. By all means refrain from asking during standard Potions,'' he added seeing boy's confused and disbelieving expression. ''I will try to answer your questions to the best of my knowledge. Just bear in mind I do not know much about your mother's life following...'' he hesitated, feeling his heart beating faster. ''The argument. Our paths have parted and people at such a young age can change substantially in the short span of few years.'' Even though it was what Severus remembered, he knew it wasn't the truth in its entirety and the proof was standing right in front of him, looking at him with her green eyes like an accusation.

Potter nodded awkwardly and muttered a thanks. Then he focused once more on the cauldron.

Severus expected the boy to flood him with questions, but instead he was stirring in silence with his face conflicted. Splendid, it would seem to burden of starting the conversation was on his shoulders.

''The idea to crush the Sopophorous Bean while brewing the Draught of Living Death was actually inspired by your mother's suggestion,'' Severus recalled.

Potter furrowed his eyebrows. ''Really?'' he asked with voice filled with marvel.

''Yes. Your mother and I would spend hours in the library discussing potions and exchanging our ideas. I would like to believe my own suggestions have led to some of your mother's brilliant ideas as well,'' edges of teacher's lips curled slightly up at the fond memory.

''Like what?'' the boy's eyes were shining like he was gifted a star.

''Your mother was a master at the Wit-Sharpening Potion, for instance. I struggled to make my potion reach her potion's quality. After the lesson she thanked me. I did not know why, so she told me she had also shredded the ginger root after having cut it, which had been my idea for preperation of Sneezewort for the Confusing Concoction. Your mother smartly deducted that what worked for one potion, could also work for the potion that had the opposide effect.''

''You've never told us to shred ginger root,'' Potter reminded not too happily and added after a second added. ''Or Sneezewort. Sir.''

Severus crossed his arms. The brat loved arguing, didn't he? ''How lucky you are then to finally have found out this secret of the subtle art of potion-making, Potter,'' he said flatly.

Chapter Text

Hagrid had not been wrong about spring coming early – daffodils started blooming mid-February, soon to be followed by other flowers. Snow was already forgotten, spring mud taking its place. Harry wouldn't say this particular aspect of early spring was a change for the better as the edge of his robes were perpetually dirty.

While for Hermione March accelerated her exams anxiety, for Harry, Ron and Ginny one thing chased away the thoughts of slowly incoming N.E.W.T.s – the Gryffindor-Hufflepuff Quidditch match.

''It's a real shame, mate, you can't play with us. The bat knows we would easily win if we had you on team,'' Ron grumbled.

Hermione, sitting on the couch in Gryffindor's common room next to her boyfriend, glanced from over Herbology book. ''Snape didn't make Harry attend extra Potions. He volunteered.''

Ron snorted. ''Yeah, much of volunteering when he'd assigned detention every week. He'd do it again if Harry hadn't 'volunteered','' the red-haired boy mimicked quotation marks with his fingers.

''I wish I could play with you, but I'm sure you're gonna kill it anyway,'' Harry smiled supportively at Ginny.

''Sure we are, mate!'' Ron protested offended Harry dared to suggest things could go wrong for the Gryffindor team.

''You chose what was better for you,'' Ginny patted Harry's knee. Ron didn't seem to agree with the statement as he rolled his eyes.

''Yeah, right. Neville enroled the Auror training without extra classes,'' Ron reminded nastily. ''If Neville was good enough to pass the entrance Potions exam, everyone is. Snape's wasting your time, mate.''

''Are you serious? The extra classes are paying off,'' Hermione cut in. ''I've noticed Harry has been doing better at Potions lately.''

''I wouldn't say that,'' Harry chuckled. Oh, if only Snape heard Hermione he'd do everything in his power to show the entire class how wrong she was.

''The git isn't torturing you more than usually, is he?'' Ron asked faux-worriedly.

''No, it's... it's OK, I guess,'' Harry shrugged noncommitally. If he were honest with his friends, he'd say Snape was actually more tolerable during extra Potions than the regular ones. Especially when they talked about Harry's mum. How else would Harry had learnt that his mum used to joke that if she had more sisters, they would have been called 'Daisy' and 'Rose'? The Evanses had apparently been crazy for floral names. The information that Snape would share with him were inconsequential like that, but at the same time invaluable to Harry. They made him see who his mum had been as a person, not as some kind of saint.

Not that he could say it aloud – Ron would probably have thought Harry has lost his mind or had been hexed or poisoned by their teacher.

''Speaking of gits and Slytherins, do you think other houses also had the talk how we should be nicer to students from other houses?'' Ron grimaced.

''Yeah, Luna mentioned Flitwick had this kind of conversation with them too,'' Ginny said.

''I think it's great the heads of the houses addressed this issue at last,'' Hermione spoke with an air of superiority. ''You've seen how Dennis treats Slytherin students. Besides, it wasn't only about our attitude towards Slytherins.''

''But you've admitted it was mostly about Slytherins,'' Ron argued.

''O'Cathail didn't mention any house,'' Hermione protested.

''She didn't have to. Everyone knew, anyway. Do you think McGonagall made them talk about this stuff? She's gotten surprisingly pro-Slytherin recently,'' Ron furrowed his eyebrows. ''I wonder if Snape had this talk with Slytherins too. Probably not. I can't imagine him telling Slytherins to treat others fairly.''

''McGonagall has been asking us to cooperate with other houses since the very beginning of the school year, Ron. And the Sorting Hat had been warning us against the rift for years,'' Hermione tiredly pointed out.

''Ugh, I just hate it that Slytherins receive extra treatment, while they should be held responsible for the war,'' Ron scoffed.

''Who should be held responsible? Those first-years that Dennis and Eusebius are making fun of?'' Hermione angrily narrowed her eyes.

''Are we gonna see you in the seats this Saturday?'' Ginny playfully nudged Harry, changing the subject as the atmosphere in the common room was getting unpleasant.

''Of course! Even a detention wouldn't stop me from attending,'' the boy in glasses smirked mischieviously.

''Hermione?'' Ron fetched for some support from his own girlfriend.

The girl made a face. ''Uh, I don't know... I've got lots of material to study. Alright, fine,'' she said in defeat upon seeing Ron's disappointment.

---

Students were crowding on their way to the stadium, Harry and Hermione being two of them. Luckily, this time weather was kinder as the Sun shone pleasantly.

''Reserve for us some nice spot. I'll catch you later,'' Harry said to Hermione.

''Harry?'' the girl asked.

''It'll take a moment,'' Harry waved and jogged towards the Gryffindor team making final preparations before the match.

''Harry!'' Ginny threw herself at her boyfriend.

''What are you doing here, Harry?'' Ritchie Coote unwelcomingly crossed his arms. ''You're not a part of the team anymore,'' he grimaced.

''Oi, give him a rest!'' Ron shoved Ritchie.

''Stop it!'' Ginny roared at two boys. In those moments it was painfully clear she was her mother's daughter. ''The last thing we need right now is inner conflict. We've got a match to win!''

''You're biased, Ginny. He's your boyfriend,'' Ritchie said harshly.

''He is,'' Ginny said simply. ''It's nice he came to visit, isn't it?'' she raised an eyebrow at Ritchie, while Ron muttered something unhappily.

''Merlin, can't you play your dramas somewhere else?'' Demelza Robins sighed theatrically.

Harry didn't hear what his friend was saying, but as far as he knew Ron it was probably complaining that Hermione had not come. He cleared his throat, hoping it would get rid of that unpleasant sensation in his guts. Maybe he should have told Hermione where he was heading. Ron had his moods when it came to Hermione.

''Right,'' Harry embarrassedly cleared his throat once more. ''I should get going. Good luck, guys. You're gonna kill it!'' he smiled encouragingly.

''Hi, Harry,'' Luna's ever-absent gaze landed on the young wizard, who was working his was through the maze of students already sitting in their spots.

''Watch your feet, Potter!'' hissed a Ravenclaw who dropped his bag of with some kind of snack as Harry was walking past him. Harry chose to ignore him and sat next to Luna, who was sitting next to Hermione.

Blonde girl was loudly munching on a snack. He looked curiously at the bag in her hand, wondering if by accident his friend was chewing stones.

Luna must have interpreted Harry's fascinated gaze as a desire to try the snack as she tilted the bag at Harry. ''Help yourself,'' she offered.

Harry peeked into the bag only to see wrinkled grey stone-like thingies. If they in the fact were pebbles, he wouldn't have been surprised. ''No, thanks,'' he smirked awkwardly.

Luna didn't seem to be offended as she returned to crushing pebble-like snack with her jaw. How the Ravenclaw's teeth survived this, Harry wasn't sure.

''I was starting to wonder if Snape had confined you to more Potions,'' Luna said.

''What? No!'' Harry chuckled. ''It's Saturday. I've got extra Potions on Fridays. And Snape's here too,'' he tilted his head in the Potions Master's direction.

''He could've been using a time-turner,'' Luna stated casually as if it was the most obvious conclusion.

Harry's eyes grew wide in shock. He looked at Hermione trying to think of ways to ask Hermione if she had told Luna about time-turners without speaking a word. Quite needlessly, as at the same time Hermione looked at Harry with surprise in her eyes, slowly shaking her head avoiding making sudden movements.

''Haven't you heard about time-turners?'' Luna looked at her friends curiously, turning her head to left to look at Harry, then to her right to look at Hermione. ''Oh, that's right. My dad says the Ministry is keeping time-turners in secret. They let you travel back in time. Maybe Dumbledore gave Snape one to aid him on his mission,'' she reasoned and Harry actually found her explanation logical.

''Even if such a thing existed, I highly doubt Dumbledore would have risked it getting into hands of Death Eaters,'' Hermione put an emphasis on the first words.

Harry imagined his fellow Gryffindor did not want to admit to having received a time-turner from McGonagall. He understood that – he also didn't feel like talking about their time travel. Leaning forward to get a better look at the brown-haired girl he spotted a book on Hermione's lap. ''Do you really have to?'' he scolded her. That sight would no doubt make Ron feel dejected.

''What?'' Hermione shot him an offended look. ''The match hasn't started yet.''

''It's not like uh...'' he tilted his head and squinted his eyes reading the book's title. ''Runes can't wait.''

''Oh, yeah, Harry, it's not like you're putting a lot of work into your N.E.W.T.s. Some of us don't want to waste their lives,'' Hermione slammed the book loudly. Meanwhile Luna took out her newest issue of the Quibbler.

''Guys, seriously?'' Harry huffed. Why couldn't they take the match seriously? The team needed their support!

''Hermione's got a point. We still have a few minutes before the match starts,'' the blonde said, turning the page. An obnoxious font stating 'Mysterious DEath in Italy' was staring at Harry from a heading of a section, next to another, equally obnoxiously-fonted heading 'The healing abilities of Doxy eggs'.

Harry grumbled and crossed his arms unhappily. As a former captain of the Gryffindor Quidditch team he found girls' behaviour offensive.

After few minutes Madam Hooch walked to the centre of the pitch and two teams emerged from the opposite corners of the pitch. Luna folded the magazine and stuffed it into her bag and Hermione followed her footsteps with her book.

''Mount your brooms,'' the referee ordered and the players obediently climbed their brooms.

Madam Hooch bent down to open up the chest. Once the Bludgers and the Snitch were unstrapped they shot up in the air like a bunch of unruly children impatiently awaiting their turn to wreak havoc. The referee grabbed the Quaffle and raised it up in the air like she wanted to present it to the audience. Then she sharply whistled and threw the Quaffle.

The Chasers rashly turned their brooms in the Quaffle's direction, while the Seekers raced after the Snitch.

''And the game has started!'' announced the commentator. ''Oh, look how they fight for the Quaffle!'' he said as a Hufflepuff chaser poked Lan with his shoulder.

Harry was sitting at the edge of his seat, his nails were digging into the wooden bench and he could almost, almost feel the rush of adrenaline and the wind ruffling his hair. His body wanted to join his fellow Gryffindors and lose himself in the quest for the Snitch. Alas, he was still sitting on the bench and the dour Potions Master's gaze was fixated on Harry instead of the match, probably trying to remind Harry that he'd made his choice and Potions were more important than the Quidditch.

''Yes, yes, Bluefold!'' triumphantly roared the commentator as the Hufflepuff Chaser who had been pushing Lan intercepted the Quaffle and threw it to the other Hufflepuff Chaser.

However, his joy did not last long as Ginny quickly turned her broom, blocking the Hufflepuff Chasers and taking over the Quaffle. ''No, Weasley, no! Somebody stop her!'' lamented the commentator while Harry jumped up cheering for his girlfriend. Luna encouragingly yelled for her friend too.

''Weasley passes the Quaffle to Anh. Gryffindor Chasers are taking the initative,'' the commentator spoke emotionally. ''Go, Hufflepuff, go! I know you can stop them!'' he shouted desperately.

Unfortunately for Hufflepuff, they were not able to stop Ginny, Demelza and Lan from scoring Gryffindor ten points.

''Why, Gebur, why?'' the commentator cried out being a Hufflepuff himself.

Harry admitted in shame that the majority of present Hufflepuff players' names were alien to him.

The Hufflepuffs weren't going to give up just yet, though. One of the Chasers, what was his name? Bluefold?, intercepted the Quaffle and together with two other Chasers started their race for the nearest goalpost.

''Look out, Ron!'' apparently even Hermione was invested in the game.

She needn't have called out her boyfriend as Ron knew his job well. Having caught the movement of the Hufflepuff trio with the corner of his eye, the red-head gripped his broom even tighter, accelerating its speed. Just as one of the not-Bluefold Chasers threw the Quaffle at the goalpost, Ron kicked the ball of of the hoop's way. Hermione clapped loudly and Harry smirked, sure that the bookworm was not thinking about studying at last.

''Damn it, Weasley!'' the commentator huffed, not caring in the tiniest for the neutrality. McGonagall glared disapprovingly at the boy. ''Sorry, professor,'' he cringed.

Due to Hufflepuff ethos, badger's Beaters were the most useless members of the team. Yes, they did their job at protecting their team from the Bludgers, but they always made sure hitting the Bludgers would do no harm to the other team. In Harry's opinion the hard-working and loyal Hufflepuffs often lacked the spirit of competitiveness. They cared more for fair play than the game itself. Like Cedric, a voice in Harry's mind reminded sorrowfully. He sighed deeply, suddenly not feeling that invested in the match.

A loud, collective worried 'ooh' drew Harry's attention back to the game. One of Hufflepuff Beaters was hit by a Bludger aimed at her by Ritchie. The girl would have fallen off her broom if not for helpful hand of her fellow Beater.

''Ouch, that looked nastily, Earfoth!'' the commentator hissed painfully.

And maybe pity was Hufflepuff way of getting to their rivals – not long after the Bludger attack Hufflepuffs scored ten points. Even from afar Ron's anger was visible. Still Gryffindor was winning by a large margin of one hundred and sixty points. Even catching the snitch wouldn't help the Hufflepuff, but as long as the match lasted, the capricious fortune could change its verdict.

Demelza did a 360 degrees spin on her broom with a Quaffle in her hand as she avoided a Bludger viciously flying in her direction. Then she passed the Quaffle to Lan Nga Anh, who threw it in the hoop, gaining Gryffindor another 10 points.

''Come on, guys, you can still win this!'' the commentator pleaded.

Meanwhile the Seekers raced for the snitch far above the spot of the main game. Harry knew snitches well – they liked to fly up to the clouds, often concealing the fight between the Seekers from the eyes of the spectators.

Then the tiny winged ball suddenly nosedived. Two Seekers followed it, but for some reason the Hufflepuff gave up her chase when she was maybe thirty feet above the ground. The new Gryffindor Seeker had no intention of giving up so easily. His lips pressed into a thin line as he focused entirely on the snitch. And the snitch loved to deceive the players. Only thanks to pulling off a feint quite similar to the Wronski's one, the Gryffindor Seeker avoided crashing against the ground.

''Smart move, Maretiud!'' the commentator applauded his fellow Hufflepuff. ''That was risky move, Griffood.''

Giving up must have been a thought-out tactic as the Hufflepuff Seeker quickly spotted the snitch and resumed her chase. Meanwhile, Griffood had lost several seconds on the feint. The new Seeker clenched his fists against the broom. He was so close to the snitch, he was reaching out to grab it and the victory was at hand when Maretiud seized the control over the snitch ending the match.

''Amazing catch!'' the commentator roared and then looked at the scoreboard. ''Unfortunately, Gryffindor wins anyway,'' he added in defeat.

The red-and-gold parts of the audience rose up, clapping and whistling loudly.

''I think we should go and congratulate our team. Ron will appreciate it,'' Harry said to Hermione as they were leaving their seats.

Surprisingly enough, Hermione nodded. ''He's quite moody recently, don't you think?''

''Not more than usually,'' Harry shrugged as they walked around the stadium to meet with the team. He was proud of them. The new Seeker was skillfull, even though he still had a lot to practice. And it turned out Ginny had been right about choosing Lan as their new Chaser. Needless to say, Ron made an amazing Keeper and while Ritchie's playstyle was often aggressive, it was effective.

Chapter Text

Ron was enjoying his hearty portion of eggs, beans and sausage, much to Hermione's disgust, when the owls flew in with the morning post.

''Here, Piggy!'' Ginny smiled at the bird with a letter.

''Hey, Pig's my owl!'' Ron reminded, though yolk dripping from his chin did not make anyone take his protest seriously. ''You can take Errol,'' he huffed.

Ginny extended her arm and the tiny owl landed, letting go of the mail and then jumped excitedly, proud of doing its job. Harry watched the playful bird with a pang of nostalgia. Whenever Pigwidgeon delievered post, Harry was reminded of his loyal feathered companion and the wound of his loss was opened anew. It's been over a year and half and the boy still missed his owl. He knew he should eventually get a new one, but the mere thought felt like a treason of Hedwig's memory.

''Traitor,'' Ron narrowed his eyes at Pigwidgeon and the owl covered in shame.

''Oh, Ron, don't be mean, you made him sad,'' Hermione cooed as she stroked owl's soft feathers.

Ginny took Ron's knife and before he could stop her, she opened up the letter.

''Hey!''

''What? You weren't even using it,'' the red-haired girl demonstrated clean knife. ''I wouldn't have used it if it was dirty, duh,'' she rolled her eyes.

Harry chuckled at the squabble between the siblings.

''What is it?'' Ron asked after taking a sip of pumpkin juice.

''Mum's asking if we are going to spend Easter in the Burrow,'' Ginny passed the letter to her brother. ''Naturally, you are invited,'' she added looking at Harry and Hermione.

''Normally, I would stay here and study, but I think I'd like to spend the Easter with my family. I could visit you on Easter Monday,'' she said upon spotting Ron's pout.

''Harry?'' Ginny asked expectantly.

''Sure. Do I have a better place to choose?'' Harry smirked.

''You know, mate, you could always spend the break with Kreacher,'' Ron said amusedly, earning a shove from his sister. ''Just kidding! Sheesh!''

The thought of two weeks break from classes kept Harry's mind so preoccupied, he had a hard time paying attention. He completely failed to notice when Snape asked him a question during the standard Potions and the Potions Master did not miss the opportunity to make fun of Harry.

''Do I bore you, Potter?'' the teacher asked with cold precision.

''Uhm, no, sir,'' Harry answered suddenly broken from his reverie.

''Five points from Gryffindor,'' Snape announced and Harry didn't even find the will to argue. Sometimes it felt like the normal-Potions Snape and extra-Potions Snape were two different people. Like the teacher was putting an act during the Monday Gryffindor-Slytherin classes for the rest of the students. Maybe it was an old habit of playing roles during the war. But why would he keep doing that?

Frankly, the rest of the week did not go any better – he transmutated a frog into a wooden spoon instead of a steel knife.

''Harry, focus!'' Hermione hissed in whisper.

Harry rubbed his ankle. He got it that she wasn't happy with him, but did she have to kick him? Was he to blame for the beautiful weather outside that urged him to go out? The juicy green grass and golden sunrays on the other side of the window...

At least he had no troubles with performing the Banshee banishing spell during DADA.

Having been done with writing assignments and studying for the day, Harry got to packing up his belongings on Friday afternoon. Books landed right at the bottom of the trunk. He knew it was wishful thinking, but he had no will to get even a tiniest glimpse of the books in the two upcoming weeks. Naturally, Hermione wasn't going to allow that and as far as he knew Mrs. Weasley, she was going to support Hermione's effort in ruining their free time.

Then went his quill and bottles of ink. Finally, his school robes and muggle clothing found its way to the trunk.

The boy looked at the trunk and his initial satisfaction from finishing the mundane packing quickly died out – his trunk looked as if a hurricane went through it. Which, surprisingly enough, should have been a quite logical outcome, considering that Harry had been carelessly throwing things into the chest.

Groaning, Harry ran down his palm down his face and picked up his wand. He might have vastly preferred jeans to robes, but he surely wasn't dealing with this nonsense the muggle way. As his clothes were folding themselves in the air, he was met by another unwelcomed surprise. Apparently if you throw a glass bottle into a wooden trunk, there was a non-zero chance of the bottle cracking, who would have thought? With a pained sigh Harry gave up and chose to ignore it. He could deal with it in the Burrow, as long as he managed to hide it from the observant eyes of Molly Weasley.

Speaking of the Weasleys, Harry started to wonder where was Ron. He should start preparing for tomorrow soon or Hermione wouldn't stop nagging him about it until the end of the Spring break. Then it him him like a Bludger – it was Friday. Ron wasn't in the dormitory, which meant he was in the Quidditch training. Which meant... Fuck! He was late for Potions!

Running out of the Gryffindor tower, Harry glanced at the calendar to see if it wasn't Friday the 13^th by some weird twist in the fabric of the time. Luckily, it wasn't, but it did not ease Harry's shock at all.

''Slow down! You are going to break your neck!'' the Fat Lady warned.

''Twenty minutes late, Potter! By all means I should have left the classroom when the clock struck 4 P.M.,'' even if Snape had yelled his voice would not have been so terrifying as his calm and calculated manner of speech.

''Sorry, sir,'' Harry leant against the doorframe to catch his breath. ''I-''

''You what, Potter? Are you going to tell me it is not going to happen again? I will let you know you have been late to half of the extra Potions. It is simply statistically not likely for you not to be late again. Now,'' Snape clapped loudly, making Harry jump. ''Let us not waste any more time. Today you are going to revise Felix Felicis.''

''The liquid luck?'' Harry remembered the unusual sensation of some force imparting him with confidence about his endeavours he had felt having drunk the potion.

''Yes, some call it that way, although Felix Felicis literally means 'Luck of luck,'' Snape said matter-of-factly. ''Felix Felicis is one of the most difficult potions taught in Hogwarts. I sincerely regret the fact it was not moved to the seventh-year curriculum.''

''Doesn't it take like forever to make?'' Harry scrunched up his nose, trying to recall the brewing process.

''It takes six months for the potion to mature,'' Snape confirmed. ''However, all the necessary steps you need to learn are performed before the potion is put aside to mature.''

Harry grumbled. Much use of the potion if it would be ready after his graduation.

''As I said, this is a highly difficult potion. I do not expect you to succeed,'' Snape said as if he had read Harry's mind. Which, knowing Snape, wasn't unlikely.

''Pretty encouraging, professor,'' the boy huffed.

''Enough of the small talk, Potter. Get to brewing.''

Harry opened up his book. It was disappointingly devoid of young Snape's annotations. He run his finger down the page and he knew the book was missing a few helpful remarks, but he couldn't recall their content. He shuffled the pages of the book, overcome with a feeling of helplessness. Borage's instructions truly had him at loss. He looked up to take a look at his teacher and a thought appeared in his mind. A risky thought, but at worst Snape was going to yell at him and take some points from Gryffindor. Ye olde standard, one could say. Besides, if Snape was still putting up with Harry, he must have been prepared for his insolence.

''Could you write down your recipe, sir?'' Harry asked.

''Is the Advanced Potion-Making unfit for the mighty Harry Potter?'' Snape asked mockingly.

''Well, I think we both can say we are not fans of Borage's book,'' Harry shrugged.

Snape's eyebrows went slightly up, but the rest of his face remained stoic. ''I am glad you have taken greater interest in Potions,'' with a swift movement Snape took a piece of chalk and started noting down a recipe different from the one in the book.

Harry wouldn't call it taking greater interest in Potions, it would just help not having shitty instructions. But a tiny voice in his head suggested that perhaps Snape secretly enjoyed sharing his own discoveries with others. Maybe it was why he usually wrote down recipies on the blackboard. Now that Harry thought about it, Snape rarely requested his students during standard Potions to follow book's instructions. Was it some kind of test for Harry?

The boy went to the cabinet and took Ashwinder eggs, squill bulb, Occamy eggshells and several other necessary ingredients.

Harry put an Ashwinder egg into the cauldron. Unlike the book, Snape's alteration of the recipe suggested to crush the Ashwinder egg. Harry pressed a spoon against the egg. He didn’t expect for the egg to be so hard to break. He pressed the egg stronger against the bottom of the cauldron until its shell gave up under the pressure. Next he grabbed a horseradish and a grater. His eyes and nostrils stung when he grated the root. Why couldn't he use a bottled grated horseradish like the ones aunt Petunia kept in the fridge?

Meanwhile, the Potions Master remained unaffected by the substances evaporating from the horseradish pulp. Taking into acocunt the time the man has spent brewing potions, it was likely his body was acclimatised to various fumes. Or his conjunctivae were already burnt out.

Having been done with the horseradish, Harry put the pulp into the cauldron and lit up the fire beneath it. Subsequently, he squished a squill bulb and let the juice pour into the cauldron and stirred vigorously like he was told by the white chalk on the blackboard.

As Harry was reaching for the growth from Murtlap's back, his arm was stopped by a hand gripping his wrist. Harry looked at Snape, preparing himself for the teacher to yell at him and remind him how hopeless he was at Potions.

Snape, however, let go of Harry's wrist without a word and opened up a cabinet, producing a vial with a translucent liquid inside. Harry's hand once again wandered towards the Murtlap's gross thingies.

''Don't,'' the Potions Master warned. ''You are going to ruin the potion,'' he said uncorning the vial. It smelled like... vinegar?

''Uh, sir, your instructions don't mention vinegar,'' Harry said in self-defence. This time he wasn't to blame for the failure. It wasn't his fault Snape apparently forgot to write one ingredient down.

''That's because it is not an ingredient for Felix Felicis,'' Snape explained smoothly, letting few drops of vinegar fall into the cauldron. Harry opened up his mouth to ask, but the former spy was quicker to speak. ''Tell me, Potter, how did you stir the ingredients?''

''Uh, you know, quickly,'' Harry said warily and spun his arm in the air, mimicking the movement.

''So you have stirred clockwise? Can you read what the instructions on the blackboard say?'' Snape asked and he did not seem angry. He looked... amused?

''Vigorously stir ten times counterclockwise,'' Harry read aloud in shame.

''Exactly. You could read the instructions more carefully instead of jumping into conclusions, Potter,'' the said not bothering to look at Harry. Instead he was fully focused on the potion in front of him, slowly stirring it counterclockwise and observing the change in colour, as if he forgot he had tasked Harry with brewing that potion. Apparently the potion didn't need to be stirred vigorously now? Older wizard's facial features softened and for once he did not look like the bitter man pushing his forties. He looked like he was in his element and once again it appeared to Harry it was the real Severus Snape, the one his mum had made friends with and the dungeon bat was only a mask. But he did he keep wearing it? The war was over.

''The counterclockwise stirring pattern decreases the alkalinity of Ashwinder eggs,'' the teacher went on and Harry gasped quietly. In front of him wasn't standing the dour Potions Master. He was speaking with the Half-Blood Prince himself, Harry realised. ''Since you failed to maintain that stirring pattern, some other means were required to diminish the alkalinity. Vinegar is a quick solution since it is highly acidic. You could also add few drops of lemon juice as long as it does not contain the fruit pulp. Once you add Murtlap's growth to the mix, it is too late to regulate the acidity of the solution. However, I would not recommend making such experiments during exams.''

Harry opened up his mouth, trying to process what he had just heard. It surely sounded smart, but he had a feeling at least half of it eluded him.

''Do not gape, Potter. They surely must have told you about acids and alkalines in the muggle school,'' Snape narrowed his eyes. Oh great, the greasy git was back. Harry couldn't say he missed him.

Harry absent-mindedly scratched his head. He couldn't recall such a subject in the primary school. And how would Snape know what was taught in muggle schools? Oh, yeah, the Half-Blood Prince. It was easy to forget Snape wasn't a pure-blood. Though, Harry could not imagine Snape attending muggle school, especially in the clothing that he had worn when he'd met Lily. He would have been the laughing stock of the entire school. Not that Hogwarts had treated him any better, Harry thought bitterly. ''It was years ago, sir,'' he pointed out at last. ''Maybe the curriculum has changed...'' he stopped mid-tracks, realising he was going to say 'since you had attended it.'' Better not to bring up that subject.

''It is a great relief to hear not only years of wizarding education, but also years of muggle education weren't lost on you, Potter,'' Snape said in a silky sing-song.

''Yeah, well, I've never been much of a scholar,'' Harry replied tiredly. ''Surprised, professor?''

''Not really,'' Snape crossed his arms. ''Continue brewing.''

Harry finally added the next ingredient to the mixture, this time uninterrupted by his teacher. He began stirring once more, making sure he was stirring the right way. Slow, monotone circular movements made his mind wander far, far away from Potions.

''Did my mum like muggle school, sir?'' the boy asked.

''She did not seem too enthusiastic about the muggle school as an institution. However, there were subjects she enjoyed. She was especially partial to Science, or at least the parts related to Biology and Chemistry. However, she told me Physics had not been her thing, which isn't surprising. One cannot confine such a brilliant witch to the laws of Physics.'' Harry smiled at Snape's remark. ''If my memory serves me right, your mother also enjoyed English. She loved Shakespeare.''

Ugh, that guy, Harry wrinkled his nose. He remembered his English teacher, an elderly lady who seemed to be old enough to have met the playwright in person, boring them about some change in pronunciation, some shift or something.

''I take it that you have not found the pleasure familiarizing yourself with Shakespeare's plays, Potter?'' Snape asked out of sudden with a smug smirk dancing in the corners of his lips.

''That's one of Hogwarts' pros over muggle school,'' Harry muttered reluctantly, regretting having asked about his mum. It was none of the bat's bloody business what he liked to read. Or if he liked to read at all.

---

The following day two Weasley siblings and Harry were greeted by Mrs. Weasley on the porch of the Burrow.

''How nice to see you all in good health, my dears!'' Mrs. Weasley smiled brightly. ''Ron!'' she embraced her son, who stiffened locked between her arms. ''Let me look at you!'' she let go of Ron. ''You've turned nineteen this month! Oh, to think not so long ago you went to Hogwarts! You grow up too fast!'' the woman sniffed.

''Yeah, thanks, mum. I got your birthday card,'' Ron looked at his feet. His face was turning as red as his hair.

''How was the travel?'' the woman waved at the teenagers to come inside.

''Mum, we Apparated,'' Ron reminded tiredly, accompanied by Ginny hiding her giggles behind her hand pressed to her lips.

''Apparition can be tiring too. Besides, there is always a chance of something going wrong,'' Mrs. Weasley pointed out, always thinking about potential dangers awaiting her family. Harry and Ron exchanged abashed looks, simultaneously recalling Ron's mishap with Apparition during their hunt for horcruxes. ''I can't imagine how muggles endure travelling without magic,'' she went on, ignorant to impatient expressions adorning teenagers' faces.

''It's quite similar to the Hogwarts express,'' Harry shrugged.

The trio first headed upstairs, levitating their trunks behind them. Ginny directed her chest to her room, while Harry followed Ron up to the fifth floor to his bedroom. Then they walked downstairs.

The living room felt a little bit unusual without the Weasley's peculiar clock, which had been taken away after the battle of Hogwarts. The clock on that Fred's hand stopped on 'dead'. Knowing Molly Weasley, she most likely did not get rid of it completely – Harry would not be surprised to find it in the attic.

''You've made it,'' Mr. Weasley said plainly from behind the newest issue of the Daily Prophet.

''Hermione didn't come with you? Ouch,'' George arrived from the kitchen.

''Yeah, well, she wanted to spend some time with her parents. Besides, 'she needs to study','' Ron mimicked quotations marks with his fingers.

''Shouldn't you all be studying as well? I've heard N.E.W.T.s are going to be excruciatingly difficult this year to compensate for last year's easiness,'' George mocked his fellow Gryffindors.

Ginny grabbed a cushion and threw it at her one-eared brother. ''Like you are the one to talk! You've never taken a single N.E.W.T.!''

''And I'm better off, my dear sister!''

''Forgive me, I had to feed the chickens,'' Mrs. Weasley joined the conversation. ''Ginny's right, George, you should take N.E.W.T.s. I've talked with Roberta, the florist from Diagon Alley,'' she explained when she was met with confused glances. ''She told me her nephew had taken N.E.W.T.s six years after graduation! You could too.''

''I don't need it,'' George scoffed.

''Haven't you ditched the school without graduating?'' Ron scrunched up his nose.

Harry sat quietly on the sofa and smirked softly. He loved that the squabbles between the Weasley clan were forgotten by the dinner. And how they usually were induced by care and concern for the family members. It felt like home. A home he wished he could have grown up in.

''I agree with your mother – you could at least try. You never know, one day N.E.W.T.s might be useful,'' Mr. Weasley folded the newspaper in half.

''I don't need it and I won't need it,'' George repeated firmly.

Once they were done with helping Mrs. Weasley around the house, the trio met in Ron's room.

''Why mum always tasks us with so much cleaning,'' Ron groaned. ''There's still a week until Easter. The house will require cleanig at least ten more times before we get to Easter Sunday!''

''My bet is that tomorrow we are going to be hunting Doxies,'' Harry lay on the bed without any energy left in his body. Then a seed of thought started to growing in his mind. He narrowed his eyes, trying to concentrate on a thought that he somehow knew was important.

''I guess you are right,'' Ginny sat against a wall. ''Not much time for rest.''

''Hermione wrote she's visiting us on Tuesday. Wanna make bets if she brings her books with her?'' Ron asked.

Ginny hid her head in between her knees. '''ve got no energy for studying,'' she muttered.

''Guys,'' the thought in Harry's mind was slowly growing its roots. ''Isn't Easter in April this year?'' he asked carefully.

''Yes, why?'' Ginny looked up at her boyfriend.

''Teddy's birthday's in April,'' Harry finally recalled what his subconscious was nagging him about. A year since he had become a godfather. Eleven months without Tonks and Remus... eleven months without Fred... suddenly, his chest felt heavy. Embarrassment mixed with some other feeling, maybe guilt, squeezed his guts. How easy it was to push all those nightmare-like memories at the back of his mind.

''Happy birthday to him,'' Ron said flatly.

''Uhm... What kids get for birthday?'' Harry wondered aloud, still clueless about wizarding gifts. He knew what Dudley had received. Tones of presents he'd had no need for. Dudley had always had everything. How his cousin was doing now? Harry had no idea where he was living now. Did the Dursleys return to the Privet Drive?

''Toys. You can get them in Notterwald's Thrilling Trifles in the Diagon Alley,'' Ginny suggested, bringing Harry's train of thought back on the right track.

''Or kites. Mr Milvus Grizedale, Kitemaker sells them,'' Ron mused.

''Teddy's too young to play with kites, isn't he?'' Harry furrowed his eyebrows.

''Then buy him a broom. Didn't you say Sirius bought you one for your first birthday?'' Ron reminded.

Harry sighed deeply, staring into the ceiling. Sirius. He often thought about his godfather. There were so many things he would like to tell the man, but... Sirius had been reckless and Harry now saw how unfit his godfather had been to take care of a child. Even though the Gryffindor loved the man, he hoped he was going to make a better godfather to Teddy than Sirius had been to him. How he wished Sirius was here. ''I don't think Andromeda would appreciate it,'' he noted, recalling the letter his mum had written to Sirius, describing the havoc little Harry had caused with his tiny broom.

Chapter Text

Harry woke up breathing heavily. His shirt was sticky from sweat. Having looked around, he realised he was in the Burrow in Ron's room. Then next thing that came to Harry's mind was the question if he had been talking or screaming in his sleep as he had had on several occasions. Luckily, Ron was still snoring loudly, so Harry had done nothing to wake his roommate up.

Frankly, Harry coudn't recall what had happened in his nightmare. He only had a vague feeling the nightmare was about Lord Voldemort. But if it had been a memory or his brain coming up with some scenario on its own, he couldn't tell. Now that he thought about it, he hadn't got any Voldemort-related nightmares in months. Maybe even since Summer? His mind was probably too preoccupied with N.E.W.T.s… and having been cursed.

Harry chose not to speak about the nightmare to the Weasleys – it was quite likely they would start worrying about Voldemort returning once more if he mentioned the subject, as if Harry had never experienced a normal meaningless nightmare.

The boy yawned walking downstairs for breakfast and sleepily rubbed his eyes. By the time he reached the kitchen he was met with enthusiastic greeting in the form of ''Arry!'

Fleur kissed his cheek, much too Ginny's annoyance, but the red-haired girl didn't say a word. Harry looked at Bill, who didn't seem to mind. He was probably used to his wife greeting everyone with a kiss to a cheek.

''Bill, Fleur, I didn't know you would be coming,'' Harry smiled embarrassedly, suddenly very aware of the unkept state of his pajamas.

''We weren't sure either,'' Bill admitted.

''Oui, at first ze Gringotts didn't want to give us ze 'oliday. But zey changed zeir minds 'en Bill said 'ee would quit if zey didn't give us 'oliday,'' Fleur explained visibly pleased.

Bill laughed, eyeing his wife. ''I don't need to tell you whose idea it was to blackmail the Gringotts.'

''And it worked?!'' Ron looked at his brother sceptically.

''Skilled curse-breakers are 'ard to find,'' Fleur said smugly.

''And I'm glad you found the time to visit us for Easter,'' Mrs Weasley said, waving her wand to put some scrambled eggs on each plate on the table.

Harry reached for a fork and hid his smile behind his hand. Long gone were the days of Fleur being called 'Phlegm' and he couldn't be happier for her.

''Well, we've spent Christmas with Fleur's parents and Gabrielle, so we thought it would be nice to spend Easter in the Burrow,'' Bill said as his wife wrapped her arm around his.

George walked into the kitchen, yawning loudly and scratching his head not to tactfully, proving Harry's worries unjustified.

''Well, if it isn't my favourite sister-in-law?'' George welcomed Fleur.

''You have no other,'' Ginny reminded.

''Yet,'' George spoke with such self-esteem, Harry wondered if he knew something Harry didn't.

Mrs. Weasley, however, didn't find George's entrance amusing. ''Breakfast is getting cold!'' she said with her fists on her hips. ''And to think your father and your brother have already left for work.''

''Apparently they didn't have much luck in blackmailing the Ministry into giving them holiday,'' Ron said flatly.

''They have a lot of work. The Ministry can't simply afford sending all of its employees home for the rest of the week. Arthur said he would only get a free day for the Good Friday,'' Molly Weasley finally sat down to join her family.

Following the breakfast Harry offered help with the dishes, but Mrs. Weasley wouldn't want to hear a word of it.

''Dishes? Pffft! And what else? It must be that muggle upbringing. Oh, no, my dear, Ginny, Fleur and I will take care of it. With magic,'' the woman put an emphasis on the last word.

''I can do dishes with magic too…,'' the boy pointed out.

''Oh, don't worry, we'll find you some other occupation,'' Mrs. Weasley smirked.

Harry glanced at the scorn forming on Ginny's face at the mention of dishes. He felt awful about what he was going to do, leaving Fleur all alone. ''Actually, I could use Ginny's help at the Grimmauld Place.''

''What for?'' Mrs. Weasley asked warily.

''Spring cleaning, stuff like that,'' Harry hoped his voice didn't betray the deception.

''Absolutely!'' Ginny nodded like cleaning Grimmauld Place were her top priority.

''Can't your house elf do it for you?'' Mrs. Weasley spoke it in such a way Harry was willing to give Hermione the credit for her work with the S.P.E.W.

''Uh, well,'' Harry insecurely scratched the back of his neck. ''Kreacher is an old elf…''

''Not a problem. I can do ze dishes myself,'' Fleur offered and Harry was deeply grateful for her support.

''I'll help Harry too. That ruddy elf needs to be overlooked,'' Ron eagerly cut in, having overheard the conversation.

Mrs. Weasley didn't seem to be convinced by her youngest son's argument. ''And who will help me pluck chickens?''

''George has a lot of time. He can help,'' Ron argued and Fleur turned her face away to hide her smirk.

''George has a business to run,'' Mrs. Weasley reminded.

Knowing he wasn't going to win, Ron shot his friend an angry glare and huffed. Ginny, on the other hand, looked smugly at her brother as she followed Harry to the backyard, where the couple was met with chickens. Harry wondered if those were the unlucky chickens soon to be plucked by Ron or if those chickens had already been decapitated.

''I guess we'll really have to go to the Grimmauld Place. Your mum is gonna kill me if she finds out we didn't,'' Harry whispered conspiratorially. A hen started pecking Harry's sneakers.

''It's better than dishes, anyway,'' Ginny smiled taking Harry's hand in her own.

Harry bit his lip, trying to stop himself from smiling. ''Or plucking chickens.''

---

The couple Apparated in front of the door of the house. Harry used his wand to open up the door and two teenagers walked in. With a snap, the house elf appeared in the hallway.

''Master didn't say he was going to appear at the Grimmauld Place,'' the elf spoke quite politely, even though he was eyeing his master and his master's girlfriend uneasily. ''Kreacher would have prepared the house for Master's arrival if he knew,'' he added a little bit accusatory.

''Yeah, well, we arrived here kinda on a whim,'' Harry explained feeling slightly ashamed. House elves were touchy about their service and he didn't want to experience a house elf meltdown right now.

''Kreacher is glad to see his Master in good health,'' the house elf looked at Ginny. ''And in good company.''

Ginny crossed her arms, clearly not flattered by the compliment.

''Kreacher has brought the mail from the box Master had installed,'' the old elf reached out inside the rag wrapped around his body and took out a stack of leaflets.

Harry furrowed his eyebrows in confusion and took the leaflets. The majority of them were advertisements of muggle restaurants and few featured IT services – mostly offers to provide a landline with Internet. They must have come from the Post Office Box that Harry had rented, the boy realised. But the box was kept in the post office – no one had installed a box near 12 Grimmauld Place. Postmen wouldn't even find the concealed building, anyway.

Harry turned leaflets in his hand again. Ginny curiously glanced over her boyfriend's shoulder, having never seen a muggle leaflet before. ''How did you get them?''

''The post was intended for Master, so Kreacher collected it,'' the house elf explained simply.

Harry sighed. Talking to Kreacher could be difficult. ''Did you go to the post office?''

''Kreacher went where it was necessarry. Master doesn't need to worry – there were no muggles,'' Kreacher's tone left no doubt to the question of Kreacher's opinion on muggles.

''Scum! Mud-blood!'' the mention of muggles awakened Walburga Black's painting. Both teenagers cringed at the shrill voice.

Harry exhaled slowly. So Kreacher had probably Apparated into the post office in the middle of the night to take some leaflets. Hopefully there had been no cameras in the post office.

''Is Master unhappy with Kreacher? Should Kreacher punish himself?'' the house elf asked eagerly.

''What? No, you did amazing,'' Harry assured hastily. He didn't want to deal with Kreacher's outburst. House elves tended to take their job too seriously and often had a masochist streak. Luckily, Kreacher hadn't come up with an idea to send the leaflets to Hogwarts.

''Kreacher is happy to serve his Master. Would Master like Kreacher to prepare a treacle tart for Master and his friend?''

Harry smiled at Ginny. ''Yes, it would be nice.''

Truthfully, the visit to the Grimmauld Place had nothing to do with spring cleaning – Kreacher had already cleaned most of the common spaces in the house. In fact, only the common spaces – when Harry entered a bathroom to wash his hands before dessert (at Ginny's request) he was met with the sight of dusty floor, sink, bathtub... pretty much everything. It was painfully apparent the house elf never bathed. And explained why Kreacher was uncomfortable with Harry's arrival.

Actually, the visit had everything to do with a date. Once Harry grabbed Ginny's hand under the table and the treacle tart sitting nicely in his stomach, all the guilt related to leaving Ron and Fleur to Mrs. Weasley's devices was long forgotten. With their stomach's full, the couple moved to the drawing room to relax on the couch.

''So what are we doing now?'' asked Ginny with her head rested against Harry's shoulder.

Harry rubbed his girlfriend's arm. ''I dunno. Do we have to do anything?''

''Sooner or later we will have to return to the Burrow'' Ginny reminded reluctantly. ''Oh, I've got an idea! Maybe we could find the time to go to the Diagon Alley?''

''What for?'' Harry scrunched up his nose, his eyes focused on the fire dancing in the fireplace.

''It's not like two days ago you were complaining about not having a gift for Teddy,'' Ginny raised an eyebrow.

Harry bit his lip. Ginny was right, but Harry didn't want to leave the comfort of Ginny's sitting next to him and the pleasant crackling of logs in the fireplace. Ginny mischieviously intertwined her fingers with Harry's.

''You know you'd have to go there eventually,'' she rubbed her head against Harry's shoulder, finding more comfortable position, and a jolt of lightning went down Harry's spine.

''I'm not in the mood,'' Harry swallowed, his mouth terribly dry out of sudden.

Ginny tilted her head to get a better angle to look at Harry. ''And what are you in mood for?'' she smirked playfully. Her lips were so close... a smile crept onto his own face as he leant down for a kiss. The kiss came out not as smoothly as he'd like to, as he was forced to move Ginny from his shoulder, but it didn't matter.

Ginny giggled as their lips met. ''I think we should do house cleaning at Grimmauld Place more often.'' She didn't seem upset she had been forced off Harry's shoulder. Instead the red-head moved to Harry's laps.

Harry knew the grin on his face made him look stupid and he didn't care. ''Agreed. We should have more time for that after we graduate,'' he said rubbing circles on Ginny's back.

''And to think the N.E.W.T.s are coming in two months,'' Ginny's sigh was loaded with nostalgia.

Nostalgia that Harry found relatable. He had spent so many wonderful, and oftentimes frightening, years in Hogwarts. He didn't want to think about it. He didn't want to think what he was leaving behind. ''Please don't turn into Hermione.''

''Sorry,'' Ginny blushed. ''I guess I'm getting nervous too.''

''You're gonna kill it,'' Harry assured. ''You're smart. Smarter than me or Ron. Don't tell him, though.''

''Can't make any promises. Siblings rivarly, you know.'' God, her eyes shone so beautifully when she was up to mischief.

As much as Harry wanted for the moment to last forever, they couldn't stay at Grimmauld Place indefinitely. Mrs. Weasley would make her dissatisfaction known. Therefore, in order to prolong their date the couple went to the Diagon Alley. Buying a birthday gift for his godson was a good excuse. Harry let Ginny guide him as the world of wixen toys was still an enigmatic land to him. Last time he had bought Teddy a muggle toy, but he couldn't keep avoiding wizarding toy shops forever.

''Potter! Would you like to try my brooms?'' a witch asked as the couple was walking down the street.

''Sorry, we're busy,'' Ginny cut in before Harry had a chance to say a word.

Harry enjoyed the atmosphere of the Diagon Alley, but since the battle of Hogwarts people have been staring at him, asking for a talk or an autograph. Sure, Harry had been drawing attention wherever he went ever since he had set a foot in the wizarding world nearly eight years ago, but that curiosity of the past was nowhere near the current one. And contrary to what people like Snape thought, Harry has never craved that kind of attention.

''Mr. Potter, would you like to take a look at my owls?'' a wizard politely offered.

''Uh, maybe next time...'' Harry scratched the back of his neck.

After a series of similar encounters the Gryffindors finally arrived at Notterwald's Thrilling Trifles. The bell rang merrily when Ginny opened the door.

''Ah, who we have here,'' an elderly wizard with a silver beard and slightly red cheeks smiled warmly. In some way he reminded Harry of a stereotypical Santa Claus. ''It's an honour to welcome famous Harry Potter in my humble establishment.''

''Um, thanks,'' Harry spoke insecurily, trying to think of a smoother way of telling the man to give it a rest. They didn't have to voice their admiration whenever Harry walked past them. It was annoying. Frankly, his battle with Voldemort had not been as spectacular as those people probably imagined. Certainly it wasn't a material for a heroic story. While Expelliarmus was one of Harry's favourite spells, it didn't look epic compared to let's say... Bombarda Maxima.

Spending the vast majority of his time in Hogwarts made Harry forget how the rest of the wizarding world perceived him. Even though his school mates knew Harry's role in Voldemort's defeat, they didn't flatter him constantly. He was just Harry to them, a student who was good at Quidditch, not so good at Potions and asked Hermione for help too often and Harry didn't want to leave it behind.

''We are looking for a gift for a one-year-old boy,'' Ginny explained.

The old wizard left his spot behind the counter. ''For such young children I would recommend colourful books with pictures. Ah, take a look!'' he swiftly grabbed a book bound in something that looked much like leather, but bent like plush under his fingers. ''Its edges are softened with a tiny bit of cushioning charm. And it only requires a tap of wand to make sounds,'' he added in a sing-song as if he would have found such a present entertaining if he had received it himself. Then he opened the book with his one hand and took his wand in the other one. With a gentle pat he touched a picture of a dragon and it roared, breathing drawn fire. Afterwards the dragon closed its maw and went still.

''That's uhm, impressive, but can it be turned on without a wand?'' Harry asked.

The seller furrowed his eyebrows, his face contorted with confusion. ''Beg your pardon, Mr. Potter? In what way turned on?''

''Uh, I mean, will the pictures move if a child touches them?'' Harry elaborated and out of curiosity tapped his finger against the dragon. It didn't move, however, to his disappointment.

''Oh, yes, it should!'' Mr. Notterwald nodded. ''I've never heard complaints from parents about the quality of my products.''

Harry wondered why would the magic within the book work with wands and children hands, but not his own hand. Probably it had something to do with accidental magic in children, he deduced.

''How about this?'' Ginny shook a flat cardboard box. It sounded like multiple things inside rattled and scraped against the lid.

''Excellent choice, Ms. Weasley!'' the elderly wizard clapped. ''May I?'' he took the box from girl's hands and opened it, revealing to Harry's eyes pieces of a jigsaw puzzle, big enough to prevent them from being swallowed by children. Then the seller shook the box and the shape of pieces and picture displayed on them changed. The man shook them again and they changed once more. ''There are so many variations children never get bored of them,'' Mr. Notterwald assured.

Harry, however, wasn't interested in toymaker's praises for his puzzle as his eyes spotted a red choo choo, a tiny copy of Hogwarts Express locomotive. ''Does it move with magic?'' he asked recalling Dudley's toy set with a train and a railway line that moved on batteries. His cousin quickly had got bored with the toy, having been showered with hundreds of other gifts.

''Does it move?'' the elderly wizard choked out incredulously, apparently having found the question silly. ''Of course, Mr. Potter!'' He took the toy from the shelf and having put it down on the floor, he touched it with his wand. The locomotive whistled happily, threw a chain of smoke in the air and its wheels started turning as it set off. Then he picked up the toy and put it away on the shelf.

''I'll take this one,'' Harry's mind was made up.

''I usually recommend this kind of toys for a little bit older children, but if that's what you find suitable...''

''Then it's gonna serve Teddy longer,'' Harry replied.

Mr. Notterwald took the toy once more and walked to the counter with a cash register. ''Would you like it wrapped in a gift wrapping paper?'' Having received a 'yes', the man produced from the shelf of the counter a red paper with white polka dots and a spool of a glittering ribbon. As he waved his wand, a sheet of paper divided itself from the rest of the roll and wrapped itself around the toy. Then the ribbon knotted itself into a neat bow.

Harry reached inside his coin pouch, paid for the toy and the couple left the shop.

''I knew you wouldn't have stopped yourself from buying this thing once I saw it. You know you were buying a gift for Teddy, not for yourself, right?'' Ginny asked cheekily as soon as they stepped outside.

''Yeah, well,'' Harry shrugged, thinking about the Hogwarts Express. He knew he was going to flood his godson with stories of his wonderful time at Hogwarts when Teddy got older.

Ginny chuckled softly and grabbed Harry's free hand. Then two Gryffindors Apparated back to the Burrow.

''What took you so long?'' Ron welcomed them when they crossed the threshold of the house. ''You've been away all day and I was forced to pluck chickens and clean dad's shed. Do you have any idea how many unfinished projects he keeps in there?!''

''I bet mum's gonna tell dad off for the mess he makes with his experiments,'' Ginny said knowingly.

''She already did. Dad returned an hour ago. I told you, it took you all day! That ruddy elf is doing an awful job if you had so much cleaning to do,'' Ron huffed, side eyeing Harry and Ginny like he knew there was in the fact no spring cleaning at the Grimmauld Place.

---

Armed with the present Harry Apparated before the gate protecting Andromeda's house. The owner walked out with a welcoming smile on her face. ''Harry! How nice to see you! Please, come inside,'' she waved at him.

Having stepped inside Harry looked around for signs of one-year-old.

Andromeda chuckled. ''You didn't think I would leave Teddy roaming around unattended, did you? That would be a recipe for disaster! He's in his crib.''

Teenager followed the woman to his godson's room. Andromeda grabbed the toddler and held him, supporting Teddy's weight on her hip. ''Do you want to hold him?''

''Uh,'' Harry surveyed the room for a spot to place the gift. After several seconds he opted for putting it down on the floor. ''Sure,'' he finally said, even though his voice gave it away he wasn't that sure about holding his godson. Andromeda swiftly handed him the child, as if it holding a baby was one of the most obvious movements. Meanwhile Harry's senses were put on full alert as he feared he was going to drop Teddy.

''Up you go to uncle Harry,'' Andromeda said merrily.

Uncle Harry? Truth be told, he didn't like the sound of that. He was only 17 years older than Teddy! ''Just 'Harry' is fine,'' he said hastily and he fixed his hold of the child. Teddy was heavier than the last time Harry had seen him.

''Haa-ee!'' Teddy clapped laughing and Harry laughed too.

''Yes, I'm Harry.'' Teddy wriggled in Harry's arms. ''Can I put him down?''

''Sure,'' Andromeda waved her hand dismissively.

Once he was sitting on the floor, the toddler crawled to the red, white-dotted paper and clenched his grabby fists around the ribbon.

''Do you like it?'' Harry crouched next to his godson. ''Here, let me help you,'' he chuckled pulling an end of the ribbon, untying it.

''You really didn't have to,'' Andromeda looked at the toy locomotive.

''It's Teddy's birthday and I'm his godfather,'' Harry said simply. Teddy was too young to be able to remember this day in the future, but Harry didn't want his godson to ever spend his birthday without a proper celebration like Harry had had for many years.

Teddy's tiny hands curled around the locomotive, turning it on. The toddler laughed and started crawling after the toy.

The visit left Harry with a bittersweet feeling in his guts. Teddy seemed to be a perfectly happy and healthy boy. He had a loving grandma... but he didn't have parents. Teddy was too young to be aware of that, but Harry knew growing up without parents was going to affect Teddy's life forever. Sure, it was something obvious when it lasted your entire life, but Harry felt that in his case the scar would always stay in there and feared it would haunt Teddy at times too.

Suddenly Harry felt an urge to see Tonks and Remus' grave. He hadn't paid them a visit since their funeral, the loss had been still too fresh back then. It was still fresh even now, but nearly a year after those events he felt more ready to see them.

Harry Apparated in front of the gate of the cemetery where Teddy's parents were buried. He walked through the gate and stopped by a tombstone that bore two names. His friends were buried together, just like his parents. Harry stood there lamely for good few minutes, not knowing what to say, even though he knew he should say something. Surely Andromeda visited the place regularly – the tombstone was clean and a bouquet of roses was lying by the grave. Embarrassment for not bringing any flowers with him washed over him. Harry quickly looked around and picked up a dried branch of some tree, transmutating it into a branch of blossoming lilac in a shade similar to the colour Tonks had often worn on her hair, uncaring it was too early for lilac flowers. Having put the flowers by the tombstone, Harry gained the courage to speak.

''Hi, guys,'' Harry coughed to clean his throat. ''I'm sorry for not coming earlier. I hope-'' he breathed in to steady his voice. ''I hope that wherever you are, you are happy. I wish you were here to see Teddy growing. I'll have you know, he's growing so fast!'' Harry chuckled slightly. ''You'd love to see that, but... Andromeda probably has already told you that. I'm not spending as much time with Teddy as I'd like too, as I should to repay for the trust in put in me to look after you son. I know it's shitty excuse, but it's hard to spend time with Teddy when I'm staying all the time at Hogwarts, you know. I hope it's gonna change once I graduate. I've got N.E.W.T.s in two months. Uh, keep your fingers crossed for me?'' Harry's eyes were fixated on the letters on the tombstone. ''I'll try to visit you more often. I'll see you in July, I think? Give hugs to my parents, Sirius and Fred, alright?''

Harry nodded and left. He thought talking to Remus and Tonks was going to loosen the knot in his stomach, but in its place guilt over not visiting his own parents appeared. Maybe it was a good thing he hadn't brought Ginny with him – she would have probably wanted to visit Fred. He knew it was right thing to do. The problem was Harry didn't think he wasn't prepared to see Fred's grave again just yet. And so Harry's next stop was Godric's Hollow.

The boy conjured a bouquet of roses and put it down a little bit awkwardly, shifting its position from left to right in an attempt to find the most dignified spot. Frankly, Harry wasn't well informed on the cemetery code of conduct. Aunt Petunia and uncle Vernon had never taken him to see his maternal grandparents' graves. Finally, Harry sat down in front of the tombstone on which his parents' names were carved and hugged his legs. He didn't care he was sitting on damp grass, too preoccupied with the letters on the tombstone. He didn't speak a word. He doubted there was a point in talking to his parents when the resurrection stone had allowed him to see and speak with his parents. They were patiently waiting for him out there, he was certain of it. He knew a day would come when they were going to be reunited, but it didn't change the desire for his parents to be there. He looked at the tombstone like he'd had at the Mirror of Erised and at the edge of his imagination a picture of his parents standing behind the tombstone appeared. They were smiling down at him and he smiled weakly at them, knowing the picture wasn't real.

Chapter Text

Within a blink of an eye the quatro of Gryffindors found themselves back in school. What was even worse, it was already mid-April and they could feel incoming N.E.W.T.s breathing down their necks. Naturally, Hermione had spent most of her Spring break learning and the days she had visited the Burrow she had tried to get her friends into studying together, more or less successfully. Whether Harry liked it or not, he could no longer deny exams were nigh. Teachers also did not fail to remind their students of this terrifying fact, and it seemed that Snape, McGonagall and O'Cathail took a pleasure in stressing teenagers with speeches on N.E.W.T.s' difficulty.

As Harry was packing his copy of A Guide to Advanced Transfiguration into his bag, McGonagall called him.

''Potter, I will be awaiting you today at 5:30 P.M. in my office. Needless to say, I expect you to arrive on time,'' the Headmistress looked at him sharply. No doubt Snape had been complaining about Harry's lack of punctuality.

''Of course, Professor,'' Harry said hastily as he threw his bag on his shoulder.

''They won't leave you alone, right?'' Ron whispered when Harry caught up with him and Hermione. ''What does she want this time?''

''Probably something with exams,'' Harry shrugged.

''Do you think she'll want to talk with everyone of us, like she had in the fifth year?'' Ron scrunched up his nose.

''Well, she's not the head of Gryffindor anymore,'' Ginny reminded. ''She should have more important matters on her mind.''

''Yeah, but I feel like she still were the head. It's easy to forget it's O'Cathail's job now,'' Ron pointed out.

''Head of Gryffindor or not, I think she still wants us to do our best on N.E.W.T.s. We should appreciate that she's reminding us of our most urgent priorities,'' said Hermione. ''Speaking of which, we have two hours we can spend in the library before Harry has to talk with McGonagall.''

''Hermione, please,'' Ron begged tiredly.

''Both Snape and McGonagall gave us assignments today. And I've also been tasked with Arithmancy assignment. We shouldn't waste our time on resting when we've got not even two full months to the N.E.W.T.s,'' brown-haired girl reasoned.

The red-haired boy looked at Harry as if he was nauseous, but refrained from protesting, obediently following his girlfriend to the library.

Harry excused himself from the group study session and headed for the Headmistress office. Having said 'toadstool', he climbed up the spiral staircase and knocked on the door.

''Please come in,'' McGonagall answered and Harry pushed the knob.

It turned out the Transfiguration teacher wasn't the only person present in the room. Kingsley Shacklebolt greeted teenager with a polite smile. ''Long time no see, Potter. I'm sorry for keeping you from studying. We all know how stressful N.E.W.T.s are.''

''It's good to see you too, Minister,'' Harry tried to hide his confusion. Couldn't McGonagall have said Kingsley would be here too? And why did he need to talk with Harry? A shadow of anxiety passed through him and even though he was certain Voldemort was dead and gone, some part of his mind suggested it was the reason behind Kingsley's visit. Harry briefly glanced at Dumbledore's portrait, looking for a clue.

''Oh, I am sure this conversation isn't going to affect Potter's exams,'' McGonagall reasoned.

''I can see you are wondering why I am here,'' the dark-skinned man said with a tint of amusement. ''I understand your mind is focused on the exams, but the Ministry has other objective to take care of before the N.E.W.T.s. We would like to hold an official ceremony on the day of the first anniversary of the battle of Hogwarts,'' he explained.

''That makes sense, but why do you need me to be here?'' Harry asked not giving much attention to the proper way of addressing the Minister for Magic.

Shacklebolt raised his eyebrows as a smirk appeared on his lips. ''You truly have no idea, Potter? Do I need to remind you who do we owe the victory?''

''Uhm, lots of people, actually...'' Harry looked down at his shoes.

''I find your ability to emphasise others' achievents admirable, but now it is not the time for modesty,'' McGonagall scolded him.

''But it's true!'' Harry protested.

''The Ministry would like you to give a speech during the ceremony,'' Kingsley got straight to the point. Harry opened up his mouth, but the older man went on. ''We believe it would improve the wizarding Britain's morale vastly. I know people tried to use you for their own means, yes, oftentimes political means. I promise you that I'm not trying to use you.''

''It's not that I think you're trying to use me. I know that's not you,'' Harry shifted awkwardly from left to right. ''I'm just not good at speeches.''

''What I've gathered from the stories about your little DADA group, that's quite far from the truth,'' McGonagall said.

''You are their hero, Harry. They will be expecting to hear a word from you on that day. As the Minister I have to think about the good of the society. They want you to console them. To inspire them. You are a living legend,'' the Minister reasoned.

''It's been a year. How can I console them?'' Harry asked more angrily this time. ''I've never wanted any of this! I don't want to stand in front of everybody and remember how my friends died!''

''We understand it is not an easy task,'' McGonagall spoke calmly.

Harry scoffed and crossed his arms. ''You give me too much credit. I would have never suceeded on my own. I had Ron and Hermione who helped me with my task. Neville cut off Nagini's head! It was necessary for me to defeat Voldemort and I didn't do it, he did! He, Ginny and Luna were taking risks opposing Death Eaters in Hogwarts! And what about Professor Snape? Nothing would have worked out without his work as a spy. Why don't you ask them to do speeches instead?''

''Yes, all of it is true, but you are the one who defeated Lord Voldemort,'' said Kingsley.

''Ugh, you are just trying to find somebody who will do the talking in your place,'' Harry grimaced.

''Potter!'' McGonagall rebuked him, but Kingsley didn't seem offended by the accusation.

''Can't you do what ministers do? Give medals to the protectors of the Castle or something?'' Harry went on.

''You would like me to give a mdeal to everybody who fought on the Light side?'' Minister's eyes were sparkling merrily and Harry didn't know why Kingsley found the suggestion funny.

''Why not? They deserve it. Those who survived and those who died... Fred, Tonks, Remus, Lavender, Colin... Isn't that consolation? And the ceremony would last so long there would be no time for speeches,'' Harry's inner Ron cut in.

''There's no chance of me persuading you, I see,'' Kingsley said.

McGonagall intertwined her fingers. ''We accept your decision, Potter. Even though I think it's foolish,'' she arched an eyebrow at her stubborn student.

''Well, if you change your mind, inform the Headmistress by 30^th of April,'' Shacklebolt nodded.

Harry left the office somewhat agitated. Why did they think it would be a good idea for Harry to speak in front of the crowd of the most honorable members of the wizarding world? But they had been right – Harry was a legend. Always had been, even before he had been aware of the existence of magic, wizrads and witches talked had talked about him. The-Boy-Who-Lived, Harry scoffed. If only people knew it had been his mum's protective magic that had rebounded the killing curse. There had been no Harry's doing in that – he had only been one by that time. And after The-Boy-Who-Lived came The Chosen One and then, finally, the saviour of the wizarding world. How he despised those titles.

The boy headed straight for the Great Hall and took a seat next to his friends, glancing in the direction of Headmistress' place. Apparently McGonagall had also some other stuff on her agenda to discuss with Kingsley.

''And what did she want?'' Ron asked impatiently.

Harry briefly looked around and lowered his voice, not wanting the offer he had received from the Minister to become school's newest hot gossip. ''Well... she and Kinglsey-''

''Kingsley was with McGonagall?! Why?!'' Ron's eyes widened.

Several pairs of eyes from the Gryffindor table looked at Harry with great interest. Dennis, on the other hand, turned his face away scowling. A few Ravenclaws from the neighbouring table peeked curiously at the dark-haired teenager.

''Shh!'' Harry hissed. ''They want me to give a speech on the battle's anniversary.''

''Congrats!'' Ginny smiled proudly.

''Wow, mate, that's big!'' Ron tried to keep his voice down with rather mediocre results.

''There were some rumours they were going to hold a ceremony here in Hogwarts, but I don't think anyone has mentioned you in it. That's a great honour, Harry! You deserve it,'' Hermione praised her friend.

''I turned it down,'' Harry admitted.

''What?'' Ron looked at Harry as if the boy in glasses had lost his mind.

''But why?'' Hermione asked at the same time.

Harry sighed, finding understanding only in Ginny's eyes. ''Well, you know, I'm not big on speeches. And frankly it feels like me talking would downplay others' efforts. Yours too. You know well, guys, I would have never made it without you.''

''Oh, Harry, that's so generous of you. But whatever you may think, you receiving the recognition doesn't diminish other people's role,'' Hermione said softly.

''How long McGonagall is gonna talk to Kingsley, you think? It looks that we're only waiting for her and I'm starving,'' Ron complained.

''Ronald!'' Hermione huffed, while Ginny sighed tiredly.

Harry, on the other hand, appreciated the change of subject. ''Hopefully not too long, I'm hungry too. Hagrid is already getting impatient,'' he turned his face to look at the half-giant fumbling nervously with his cutlery.

The news of the anniversary spread quickly down the corridors of the castle. Even though Harry managed to keep the information concerning the offer he had received confidential to the small group of his most trusted friends, the Minister for Magic had been right after all – Harry was expected to take some part in the ceremony.

''So, Potter,'' Eusebius Purflor approached Harry in the Gryffindor common room as Harry's quill was scribbling against a piece of parchment. ''Preparing something for the anniversary?'' he peeked meanly at the parchment.

''No, I'm working on my Herbology assignment. Why aren't you? You know Sprout requested 11 inches for next week,'' Harry stared angrily at his classmate.

''Maybe you have already finished yours, Purflor?'' Hermione mocked, shifting her eyes from Ron's own assignment-in-progress to her fellow Gryffindor.

''Ouch,'' Eusebius spoke flatly. ''No talks then, Potter? Gonna give medals then?''

''Get lost, Purflor!'' Ron huffed.

''Oh, so you're gonna receive an order, got it. Wonder who else is going to get one? Snape?'' Eusebius asked mockingly.

''Why not?'' Harry challenged his classmate. ''He's done more for winning the war than you have ever.''

''Oi, heard this, Dennis?'' Eusebius snorted, calling younger Creevey. ''Snape's done more for winning the war!''

''Yeah, for the victory of the Death Eaters. Too bad he failed,'' Dennis deadpanned as he entered the common room from the staircase. ''Wanna take guesses why they keep him here?''

''Probably because he hates it more than he would have hated Azkaban,'' Eusebius laughed drily.

''He was acquited, in case you forgot,'' Harry reminded tiredly. ''He was not sentenced to Hogwarts.''

''Are you sure about that?'' Dennis narrowed his eyes.

''I'm not Snape's fan, either, but if Harry says he is a hero then he is a damn hero,'' Ron said suddenly. ''I was present during his trial. Snape was cleared of all charges.''

''I guess the Wizengamot didn't have all the facts,'' Purflor rolled his eyes.

Hermione slammed her book shut. ''What facts? What are you even talking about?! You weren't there. You didn't fight for Hogwarts,'' she seethed. ''You have no right to judge the choices people made in the battle.''

''You're right – we weren't there. But you know who was? My brother! And what good came out of that?'' Dennis yanked the book from Hermione's grip.

''My brothers were there too! I've lost a brother as well!'' Ron yelled jumping at Dennis.

''I've lost my only brother, you've got like a dozen of those, Weasley!'' Dennis tried to kick Ron out of him.

Harry watched the scene stunned by the speed at which the argument had escalated.

''Stop it! All of you!'' Ginny roared, having appeared in the room seemingly out of nowhere. Her posture really gave Mrs. Weasley vibes.

''They are offending Fred! And Hermione! And Harry!'' Ron begged his sister to let him continue punching Dennis. ''They've been asking for it for months!''

''Oh, my book,'' lamented Hermione, noticing a page was torn in the altercation. Her sadness was short-lived as she cast a Reparo.

''I am glad I won't have to see you two ever again after graduation,'' Ginny huffed at Eusebius and Dennis with an air of superiority.

Apparently the story of the fight between the Gryffindors hadn't reached teachers' ears as no points were deducted. Moreover Snape made no comments on it during the extra Potions and as far as Harry knew the Potions Master he wouldn't have missed a chance to ridicule Harry.

Harry stirred the potion only half-aware how many times he had given it a stir, the conversation with Shacklebolt and McGonagall still fresh in his mind. Rationally speaking, he knew where their proposition came from, but the idea felt like an offence to the people who had lost their lives for the cause and to their families – to little Teddy who would never get a chance to meet his parents, to the Weasley clan... Yes, Harry himself had lost people he'd cared about too – his parents, his godfather and the man Harry had deemed one of his greatest protectors. But now his loss seemed incomparable to the hurt and grief of the others. Harry had been used to losing people, after all, and he'd known Sirius for such a short time. Did he have the right to mourn his loss when others lost people they had known their entire lives?

''Are you planning on blowing up the dungeons, Potter?'' Snape harshly brought Harry's thoughts back to the potion in the cauldron.

''Uh, what?'' Harry asked absent-mindedly.

''Manners, Potter,'' the Potions Master reminded not too politely. Then he unceremoniously put out the fire under Gryffindor's cauldron. ''I will not accept such an inattention around possibly dangerous potions. What is it that keeps your mind so preoccupied?''

''Uh, nothing, sir,'' Harry said defensively.

''Then I take you are not thinking about the upcoming commemoration?'' Snape expectantly raised an eyebrow. ''And certainly you are not wallowing in useless regrets. Am I correct, Potter?'' the teacher separated each word of the last sentence like he was talking to a half-wit.

Something inside Harry burnt with furry. ''Stop reading my mind!'' he yelled clenching his fists. It didn't matter he didn't feel a foreign conscience invading his mind. Snape was a master Legilimens capable of fooling Voldemort, after all.

Snape clicked his tongue, showing Harry that he knew he had assessed boy's thoughts correctly. ''First of all, Potter, being forced to constantly remind you Legilimency is not a mind-reading is truly getting tiresome. Minds are much more complex than a mere book. Or at very least, the majority of minds is,'' Snape repeated.

''But doesn't 'Legilimency' translate into 'mind-reading'?'' Harry argued.

''I assume Mrs. Granger has shared this discovery with you, hasn't she?'' once again Snape was correct in his guesses. Harry may have or may have not nagged about Snape having berated him for comparing Legilimency to mind-reading while talking with his friends. And naturally Hermione pointed out the literal meaning of the term as if she had memorised entire Latin dictionary. Which, knowing her, she'd had. ''Yes, evidently the person who coined the name for this branch of magic were not a Legilimens themselves. Secondly,'' the teacher put emphasis on the word. ''I didn't even need to perform Legilimency on you – you have all your thoughts and emotions written on your face.''

''And who is now talking about reading, sir?'' the famous Gryffindor courage had a tendency to show up when it was least required.

''Five points from Gryffindor,'' Snape said coldly.

''Hey, that's not fair!'' Harry protested.

''Ten points from Gryffindor,'' the Potions Master went on. ''I suggest you think before opening up your mouth, Potter,'' he warned.

Harry opened up his mouth, but closed it resigned, knowing well he was in no position to win.

''Wise decision. Now, back to the subject at hand – you have not spoken to your friends about your feelings concerning the war like I had asked you to, have you?''

''What for, sir?'' Harry shrugged non-committaly, hoping it would be enough for the man to drop the matter.

''Because they are your friends, Potter,'' Snape said plainly. ''It is obvious you need someone to get that burden off your chest.''

Harry crossed his arms and looked away. ''They wouldn't understand, anyway. Besides, they don't need my problems, they already have their own.''

''Haven't they accompanied you on your mission? If anyone can understand you, it's them. Apparently, this simple truth is too difficult for you to get through that thick skull of yours.''

''I don't want to talk about it! Sir!'' Harry waved his arms, nearly knocking his cauldron over.

''That may be so, but you need to. Bottling these emotions inside will not do you any good,'' the Potions Master spoke like it was the most obvious conclusion.

''Gosh, do you give this kind of speeches to your Slytherins? If so, I am so glad the Sorting Hat placed me in Gryffindor,'' Harry huffed, but the question remained – why Snape wanted him to talk about it? He wasn't the head of his house and frankly, he couldn't imagine any head of a house encourage their pupil to discuss their issues.

''Five points from Gryffindor,'' said the teacher.

''Oh, come on! Don't you ever get bored of it?'' Harry groaned.

Snape looked at him with a challenging expression that read 'try me', but this time he said nothing.

After few irritating moments, Harry gave in. The silence that fell was unbearable. ''Everyone thinks it's about me. You keep always accusing me of wanting fame, the Minister wants me to give speech... Oh, I bet, Skeeter is alreayd working on her next article about me! It is not about me! It is about those who gave their lives opposing Voldemort! I've never wanted it, I've never wanted to be the 'star' or whatever. I can't even go down the Diagon Alley without people approaching me. It's always about Harry Potter, the saviour of wizardkind or someother stupid titles. What about others? What about Hermione, Ron, Neville? What about...'' once Harry started talking the words of frustration poured from him like a flood through a broken levee. ''You?'' the boy briefly looked at the scar on the former spy's neck and then quickly averted his gaze, fidgeting nervously with his fingers. When Harry thought about it, he couldn't recall apologising his teacher for leaving him to die, even though he had apologised for calling Snape a coward. He had never got a chance to apologise Fred, Tonks and Lupin for bringing them into all of this, but Snape was there. Snape who had almost lost his life, loyal even in the most dire circumstances. Harry swallowed, maybe it was the time to amend it. ''I'm sorry, Professor. For leaving you in the Shrieking Shack,'' he added embarrassedly when the older wizard furrowed his eyebrows in question.

''On that matter, you have nothing to apologise for, Potter. I don't think there was anything you could do to help me in that state. I certainly did not expect you to carry me back to the castle,'' Snape reasoned silkily. ''If anything I should be the one to apologise.''

''Sir?'' Harry tilted his head in confusion.

''I should not have given you my memories. By doing so I have betrayed your mother's legacy,'' Snape explained darkly and Harry wondered how many masters can a man serve during a war at one time, when each of them can different agenda.

''You had to. If you haven't done that, Voldemort would have never been defeated!'' Harry argued firmly. The apology was truly absurd. What is the point in apologising for having done the right thing?

Snape massaged his forearm around his Dark Mark. ''Both can be true simultaneously, Potter.'' There was some kind of sorrow in the Potions Master's voice and Harry thought that perhaps having told Harry he needed to die to defeat Voldemort had been as painful to Snape as having been indirectly responsible for his friends' death to Harry. ''I believe we shall call it a day. For the next Friday I want you to prepare an assignment on brewing the Potion for Dreamless Sleep you nearly massacred today.''

''But, sir, you've already tasked us with the Wolfsbane Potion assignment for Monday!''

''Then you have nothing to worry about, Potter. Even if you finish your Monday assignment five minutes before the classes, you are going to have three days to work on your Friday assignment,'' Snape said with an ugly smirk. The git was having fun, wasn't he?

---

It wasn't only Potter that the incoming anniversary had affected. Students whispered to each other more and more often, foolishly thinking the former spy would not overhear their conversations. The staff members also mentioned their lost colleagues more frequently.

Severus tried to keep himself occupied not to succumb into the memories of that dreadful night. The fight with Filius and Minerva. Desperate escape through the window and finally the meeting with the Dark Lord and Nagini's teeth – all his wrongdoings and mistakes had led him to that disastrous moment. And in the moment of his greatest weakness, in the moments he had thought to be his last, had he made the right choice? Potter clearly was doing fine now, but had Severus the right to send Lily's son to his inevitable death, at least according to Dumbledore?

The Potions Master would rather avoid the ceremony altogether. Regretfully, he was the head of Slytherin, not for much longer hopefully, and as such he was forced to attend it.

On 2^nd of May, he had led his Slytherins to the Great Hall, the place where the Dark Lord had perished one year ago this day. He watched his serpentine students enter the Hall with discontent painted on their faces. They walked in fully aware they were the villains of the day. Other teachers also waited next to the Great Hall's entrance, making sure all students attended the ceremony.

''Well, Severus, it would appear you are not too excited for the event,'' Pomona pointed out good-heartedly.

''Are you, Pomona?'' Severus deadpanned.

''Come, lets leave our friend to his favourite sulking,'' Filius smirked, waving at the Herbology teacher.

''It would appear all Slytherins are inside, aren't you coming, Severus?'' the Headmistress asked.

''I'm coming. I simply require a few more seconds,'' he assured.

Soon the only people remaining in the corridor were Severus and Sybill, renowned for her disdain for public meetings.

''Shouldn't you go and look after your Slytherins, eavesdropper?'' the Divination teacher scoffed.

''Yes, I think I will go,'' he answered as he felt bony fingers tighter around his wrist. Severus looked to his left at Sybill's wide-opened eyes behind her bug-like glasses that stared into something beyond. Oh, no, he instinctively thought, knowing what was coming.

''Beware the unseen...'' Treelawney spoke in a voice that did not belong to her. Severus tried to yank his wrist from her grip, not wanting to hear another prophecy from Sybill's mouth. The last time he had heard it, it had led to tragedy and he was not taking any chances. However, Sybill's iron grip wouldn't let him go. ''It will come for you when the sea calms down after a storm... Its... strike... shall... defy... the enemy...'' she croaked. Then she coughed and blinked stupefied. ''Get off me, you eavesdropper!'' she retreated her hand as if she thought it was Severus who was holding her.

''Is everything alright?'' Minerva sternly looked at her subordinates.

''Everything is in the best order, Minerva. I was just coming,'' Severus spoke plainly and crossed the threshold of the Great Hall, but Sybill's words were already engraved in his memory. He must not tell anyone this time, he decided seething inside.

On the podium stood Kingsley Shacklebolt with his intertwined hands resting on his stomach. The Minister waited for the Headmistress to join him. The Minister looked around the crowd consisting not only of students, but also of the defenders of Hogwarts. It would appear a half of wizarding Britain was present in the Hall. ''Thank you all for gathering here, today. I would also like to give my gratitude to the Headmistress of Hogwarts for allowing the Ministry to house this gathering in this special place. It is a bittersweet occasion we have all come here. We want to celebrate the anniversary of the Lord Voldemort's fall. Yes, it is the name we have long learnt to fear,'' he said as wizards and witches cringed and some cowered at the sound of the once tabooed name. ''For decades we have talked about 'He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named' and 'You-Know-Who'. No more! We should not fear the name of Lord Voldemort for he is not returning. The man born as Tom Marvolo Riddle had met his demise one year ago today at the hand of Harry Potter and for that you shall have the wizarding world's eternal gratitude,'' Kingsley looked at The-Boy-Who-Lived and surprisingly enough, Severus hasn't even scoffed. ''However, we want also to mourn the loss of our loved ones who had sacrificed their lives in the battle and in the war. I would like to ask you to stand up and honour their memory with a minute of silence.'' After a longer moment of silence the Minister continued. ''Thank you. Just like the wounds of our bodies have not all healed, just like the scars of our souls remain, this castle we all hold dear to our hearts has also suffered in the war. The damages done to the castle are still being repaired. And I say this with hope in my heart: may our scars heal just like Hogwarts walls will be healed. May we find joy and comfort in the thought that our children and grandchildren are never going to find out how it is to leave under a cruel regime.''

Sobs were audible in the Hall. Nevertheless, people enthusiastically rewarded Kingsley's speech with a loud applaud.

''Now, I would like to invite Harry Potter on podium,'' the Minister asked and the boy went paler in the face. ''And I would also like to ask Severus Snape, Hermione Granger, Ronald Weasley and Neville Longbottom to join us,'' he added to Severus' surprise.

The Potions Master only slightly raised his eyebrow, showing his sceptism, but stood up as asked and climbed up the stairs until his shoulder was next to Potter's.

''Headmistress, if you could be so kind and join as well?'' When all the invitants were on the podium, the Minister continued. ''You first and foremost are who we owe today's celebration to. For that reason and to honour your couragous deeds I would like to award each one of you with an Order of Merlin of First Class,'' Kingsley said with unconcealed satisfaction. The crowd gasped and then cheered for the elite group on the podium. Minerva smiled kindly looking at her colleague and clapping.

Naturally, the Minister started with Potter. He pinned the order on boy's chest and showered him with words of gratitude. Words that Severus knew they were spoken with honesty. Then the dark-skinned wizard stood in front of Severus. ''Please take this order and wear it with dignity it deserves,'' he shook Severus hands and added. ''I am glad the Wizengamot had made the right choice. For all that has happened, I have long forgiven you and I ask for your forgiveness, Severus.''

''Be assured I have never held a grudge against you, Minister. We all played the roles we had to play,'' Severus nodded politely.

''Thank you,'' Kingsley replied with a courteous nod before moving on to Hermione Granger.

When the order was awared to Longbottom, the crowd clapped loudly and some even showed their approval whistling.

As he was heading for the staircase to return to his place among the crowd, Severus whispered to the saviour of the wizardkind, now equipped with a matching badge. ''Do not be mistaken, Potter. I now it is your doing.''

The brat smirked smugly like he did when he was up to mischief. ''Well, sir, at least this time no one is going to take it away from you.''

Severus grimaced. The audacity of the brat. ''Ten points from Gryffindor, Potter.'' The brat did not seem to be worried about his house' points tanking. Severus could feel Molly Weasley's disapproving glare.

''Furthermore, I would like to posthumously award the an Order of Merlin of First Class to Remus Lupin and Nymphadora Lupin,'' Kingsley announced.

---

Once Shacklebolt awarded Second Class Order of Merlin to the protectors of the castle who had not played such a profound role in the war, among them Ginny and Luna, the guests were left free to roam around the Great Hall and gossip.

''It kinds sucks they're holding the commemoration on Sunday. Couldn't they move it to Monday? Maybe they would have cancelled classes?'' Ron sighed dramily.

''We're only a little bit over a month from the exams! We can't afford to skip classes!'' Hermione protested.

''By the way, did Snape take away our points?'' Ron furrowed his eyebrows at the Potions Master.

''Yeah,'' Harry shrugged non-commitally.

''Ah, the git is still a git. I wouldn't worry about him, he's having a bad day, apparently. I saw him arguing with Trelawney in front of the Hall,'' said Dean Thomas.

''More like a bad life,'' Ron muttered and Harry thought that Ron wasn't aware how true his statement was.

''Hip hip hurray!'' Seamus Finnigan screamed enthusiastically, joining his former classmates.

''There you are, guys! Congrats, well deserved!'' Parvati Patil.

''Uh, I don't know about mine,'' Neville looked insecurily at the order on his chest.

''Oh, stop it, Neville,'' Hermione shook her head.

''Oh, I cannot believe that man was awarded an order!'' Mrs. Weasley spoke loudly with outrage clear with her voice, making sure her words reached the recipient.

''Mum, could you please?'' Ron begged tiredly, trying to stop his mother from being an embarrassment.

Chapter Text

Aside from the newest commemoration May brought the unmistakable scent to the Hogwarts – the scent of fifth-years preparing for O.W.L.s and seventh-years preparing for N.E.W.T.s. Severus found the repetitiveness of the ordeal awfully dull. However, awareness this would be the last cycle Severus was about to take part in helped alleviate the feeling of boredom. He had agreed to take the post of Potions Master once again fully aware he was not going to stay there much longer and the school year that was nearing to its end had only reaffirmed his resolution. The only problem was the fact he has not informed the Headmistress yet.

Once Potions with third-year Ravenclaw-Hufflepuff class was over, Severus let his feet carry him upstairs towards the Transfiguration classroom.

''Professor, I have caught two troublemakers,'' Severus march was interrupted on the first floor by Filch smiling with sadistical pleasure. The Potions Master would have felt sorry for the man if he wasn't so pathetic.

''Then find them suitable punishment,'' Severus grimaced, not feeling like talking with the man.

''I was hoping you would take care of them, Professor,'' Argus said presenting the teacher two students that he was holding by the collar of their robes, as if he was presenting carcasses after a particularly successful hunt.

Severus only briefly glanced at the students. They could not have been older than second-years. ''I do not have the time now, Argus,'' he said walking away.

The relief on students' faces quickly disappeared as Filch jerked them, urging them to walk towards his storeroom.

Severus scoffed. This was one amongst the many reasons he was not going to miss his job. He picked up on his walk down the corridors.

''Oh, where you may be heading in such a haste, do you require a company of a poltergeist?'' Peeves spotted the Potions Master.

Great, that was exactly what Severus needed right now. ''No, I do neither require nor desire your company,'' Severus said harshly.

''In faul mood is our good Snivelly, what does he need to make him merry?'' naturally, poltergeist wasn't easy to get rid of once he picked his victim. Severus decided the best solution was ignoring Peeves. ''Some people say silence is gold, to this I say: it is mold!'' Peeves tried again and grimaced receiving no reaction. ''Wizengamot set you free, tell me, professor, what did you trade for your liberty? Shining order and honours they awarded you, I wonder: who you truly are do they have a clue?'' Peeves gritted his teeth and turned around, leaving Severus alone, when he spotted a pair of students, most likely having found new victims to torment.

The staircase leading to the second floor was behind the right turn. Luckily, Severus met there the Headmistress walking downstairs. He turned around, joining his superior.

''Why do I have a feeling you want something from me, Severus?'' the elderly witch eyed him sceptically.

''Perhaps the reason behind this feeling is its verity,'' the former spy raised an eyebrow. ''If you are amenable, I wish to speak to you in private.''

Minerva sighed. ''You'll make this poor old witch walk up and down the stairs? Very well, I am amenable,'' she said with the glint in her eyes, betraying her amusement with their conversation. Yes, this was going one of few things he was going to miss. ''After you,'' she gracefully gestured up to the second floor.

Severus pace matched Minerva's one. She was a powerful witch, but it was true her movements weren't as swift as they used to be.

The Headmistress stopped in front of the gargoyle. ''Puffapod,'' she said and the gargoyle stepped aside, revealing the spiral staircase. ''So, Severus, what is it?'' she asked when they reached the top of the staircase. ''Just don't tell me it's about Potter again,'' she added pressing the doorknob.

''Surprisingly, it's not about your favourite cub this time, Minerva,'' he said stepping inside the office. The office that used to be his own for nearly a year, he thought looking around the circular room and the so familiar portraits and useless trinkets. Minerva had restored the office to its former glory of Albus' reign. ''I wished to let you know with due advance that I am going to empty the Potions Master's post,'' he looked at his superior. ''Don't worry, I'm going to stay until the end of term.''

Minerva didn't look surprised by the news, maybe only slightly saddened. ''I suppose that there is nothing I can do to change your mind?''

Severus faux-pondered for a moment. ''You could offer me the DADA post and then we can discuss my stay.''

Minerva eyed him unamused. ''You know well, Severus, that I can't do that. It would be unfair towards Jocasta.''

''Then I'm afraid there is nothing that would be capable of keeping me in this place,'' Severus said matter-of-factly. ''The past year made me realise that despite the change in circumstances I still have a strong dislike towards this profession.'' His own insincerity towards the person that perhaps was his only living true friend disgusted him. However, he couldn't tell Minerva the whole truth as to why he had agreed to stay one more year in the first place. It wasn't his to share and Lily wasn't there to decide. ''There is nothing that would keep me attached to this castle anymore.'' At least that bit would become true with Potter's graduation.

Minerva inhaled slowly and nodded hesitantly. ''If that is your last word, I accept your resignation,'' she said and Severus saw a shadow of sadness behind her glasses. A thought passed through his mind that probably there was no other person among the staff that understood Severus better than Minerva and maybe the privilege was mutual. Even though they came from the opposite houses, the two teachers in many aspects were similar. ''But know this – you will always find home between these walls, Severus.''

''Thank you, Minerva. It means a lot to me,'' the statement came a bit stiffly, but he truly meant it this time – it felt good to be accepted and to belong somewhere if you had not belonged anywhere for the majority of your life.

''I think I won't be speaking out of turn if I say on behalf of all the portraits we will always welcome you with open arms,'' said Albus' portrait.

Severus' mood was ruined by the warm smile on Albus' face – Severus desired to wipe that smile of the portrait's face. ''I'm afraid Horace will be less than thrilled to hear about this,'' the former spy added with a scowl.

''Poor man deserves a retirement,'' Minerva agreed.

''I am sure there are more wizards and witches capable of teaching Potions than just the two of us,'' Severus noted.

---

The upside of being too preoccupied with studying for exams was the lack of time to feel nostalgic about leaving the school. Usually, Hermione losing her mind about assignments and exams annoyed Harry, but this time he sympathised with his bookworm friend. Harry had no idea how she managed to keep tabs on all the subjects (and without a timeturner this time). He only had five of them and he already was feeling like a hamster in a wheel, while Ron in those rare moments of respite in the Gryffindor common room looked like he was about to melt into the couch. And to make things worse every teacher kept reminding them their future depended on the results of their exams, as if they weren't already petrified by the vision of N.E.W.T.s. Figuratively speaking, of course.

At least Harry and his friends weren't the only people too busy studying to waste their time on other activities – Dennis' torment of young Slytherins became less frequent as the younger Gryffindor was preparing for his O.W.L.s. Eusebius was less often seen in school's corridors as well. Harry supposed every bad situation had its positive outcomes.

Hermione's least favourite school activity threw a wrench in her plans to make her boyfriend study more diligently. She wasn't shy to voice her disapproval for the date of the Gryffindor-Ravenclaw Quidditch match.

''Why couldn't the match be held in April?'' Hermione huffed as Ron was packing his Quidditch equipment.

''Because of the spring break?'' Ron said flatly as if it was the most obvious reason.

''The spring break doesn't last the whole April!'' Hermione protested. ''The exams start in two weeks! We should be studying, not sitting on the stadium seats!''

Harry watched the squabble with amusement, slightly disappointed he was not going to take part in the match. The closer the exams were, the more he wondered if he had made the right choice to pick the extra Potions instead of Quidditch. He wasn't entirely sure he was making progress quickly enough to pass the Potions N.E.W.T. However, if his progress were graded by the drop in Snape's remarks about Harry's incompetence, then maybe he still had a chance.

''To be fair, Slytherin and Hufflepuff had their match two weeks ago, so it's not like we are special,'' Harry reminded.

Ginny threw her Quidditch gloves at unsuspecting Hermione. ''If you don't like the Quidditch so much, go to the library and study,'' she huffed, putting on her Quidditch robe. Then she took the gloves back from Hermione's hands. ''Let's go, Ron, we've got no time to waste.''

''I'll see you in the stadium, right?'' Harry smiled at his girlfriend after a brief good-luck kiss.

Hermione glanced at Harry reluctantly, but not wanting to turn out as an uncaring girlfriend, she kissed Ron. ''I know you are going to show your best. But tomorrow there will be no excuses,'' she warned.

The Weasleys went to meet with the rest of the team before the match, while Harry and Hermione headed for the Quidditch pitch. Walking past the Fat Lady they bumped into Luna dressed like a red-and-blue jester.

''I was hoping to meet you, guys,'' the blonde said absent-mindedly.

''Uh, nice outfit,'' Hermione forced herself to compliment their wildly creative friend.

''Thank you, Hermione. I couldn't decide whether I should support Ravenclaw or Gryffindor, so I decided to support both,'' she smiled dreamily.

''That's very thoughtful of you,'' Harry nodded for the lack of better idea. Luna's mind wandered down the paths unknown to the majority, but despite her strangeness she was a dear friend. He recalled the painting in Luna's room and felt ashamed for having ever thought badly about her. ''We should go if we want to catch a good spot.''

The weather was unusually delightful for a Quidditch match. Apparently, it wasn't enough. Despite Gryffindor's best efforts, the Ravenclaw won when their Seeker caught the Snitch, scoring in total two hundred and thirty points to Gryffindor's one hundred and eighty points.

''What a bummer!'' Ron sneered when he was joined by his friends. ''I'd never thought we'd lose to Ravenclaw!'' he crossed his arms and glared at Luna. ''It's because of you. Why didya wear blue?'' Ginny visibly deflated and shook her head disapprovingly.

''Would it make you feel better if you had lost to Hufflepuff?'' Hermione asked with a smug smirk on her lips. Ron inhaled sharply as his face turned white and then red, earning him a laugh from all the four other students.

''Well, not all is lost,'' Ginny concluded, trying to lift her own mood up after the defeat. ''We still have a chance at winning the cup.''

The last week of May was also the last week of classes. The realisation this would be the last time he was taught by McGonagall, Snape, Flitwick and Sprout felt somehow unreal, like it was a kind of dream. Not necessarily a nightmare, mind you, but something intangible like a vision about to vanish into thin air within a seconds.

''Close your books,'' McGonagall said. ''We have reached the end of this journey. There's nothing more this book can teach you,'' she grabbed her copy of the Guide to Advanced Transfiguration and showed it to her class. ''Next two weeks are going to be the most stressful in your entire student career. Remember that you are granted a week off before your exams to properly prepare for your N.E.W.T.s. Next week is not a week for leisure – you are going to have two weeks for that before the graduation ceremony. However, I am certain that all the students who have attended my classes will pass the N.E.W.T. with respectable marks. There will be more time for goodbyes during the graduation ceremony, but as your teacher and as the Headmistress I wanted to wish you the best of luck.''

After the class Hermione urged her friends to go to the library to study before her final Arithmancy and their final Potions. Or at very least the final standard Potions, in Harry's case. However, it was a thing Harry was not going to let Hermione have an upper hand. The girl might have wanted to spend their last May in Hogwarts in the library, but Harry preferred to savour the delightful weather and sit under the tree in the school's patio with Ginny. And with books and his notebooks – as much as he'd like to, there was no escape from studying. Now when he thought about it, N.E.W.T.s meant the end of studying and the sooner they came, the sooner it would be all over. It was like waiting for a storm or some kind of cataclysm to come only to wait for its end, weirdly comforting in its fatalistic way. Maybe it was an echo of his last year's mission that left its mark on his psyche.

Snape wasn't as kind in his farewell as the Transfiguration teacher, to nobody's surprise. ''This is where your education in Hogwarts ends. As you should be aware, not all of you would have spent your final year exploring the intricacies of the subtle art of Potioneering if not for my predecessor's graciousness. I have put my best efforts into trying to teach the lot of you this delicate art, however, your fate lies within your hands. Now you are going to regret the moment you drifted away when I walked through the Veritaserum recipe. Now you are going to wish you have listened when the Golpalott's Third Law was discussed. Your only hope is that your friends have noted down more dutifully. The book,'' Snape gestured at the Advanced Potion-Making. ''Is riddled with mistakes. Following it will give you an E at best.''

''Man, I already feel much more confident about my Potions N.E.W.T,'' Ron whispered and Harry chuckled.

''Weasley, is there something you want to share with the class? If that is so, I advise you do it quick – there will be no more chances as this is your last time in this classroom, praise Merlin,'' the Potions Master said icily. Then teacher's eyes landed on Harry as if he wanted to remind the boy that in his case it wasn't their last meeting in the classroom.

Ron cleared his throat. ''No, sir,'' he said sheepishly.

On the opposite side of the spectrum to the strict Transfiguration and Potions teachers were Charms and Herbology teachers, who spent their last classes teary-eyed, reminiscing the moments when a bunch of first-years first walked into their classrooms with eyes full of wonder and hungry for knowledge. Harry felt like the last part wasn't directed at him – he's never felt particularly hungry for knowledge, especially for the Herbology.

O'Cathail didn't have the baggage of sending numerous generations of students into the world. In her speech she was more straightforward, laying down the aims for her students. Harry wouldn't be surprised if she had talked that way to her Auror trainees.

Finally, the day of his last extra Potions arrived. Harry didn't know how to feel about it – on one hand not having Snape as his teacher was something to look forward to, but on the other hand he owed so much to the man. And he didn't want to admit it aloud, but Snape was much more tolerable when it was just the two of them, like the teacher didn't feel the pressure to ridicule Harry. Moreover, no one in their right mind would deny that Snape was an awfully knowledgeable man.

''I see you have decided to turn up in a more timely manner, Potter. I am astonished,'' the man said drily. ''Open up your book on page 328. Today you are going to revise Veritaserum.''

Harry hastily obliged, putting his bag on the edge of his desk. Just as he was taking out the book, the bag slid down to the floor with a cacophony of its contents clashing against each other. The boy closed his eyes at the noise. ''Sorry,'' he muttered embarrassedly.

Snape sighed tiredly and his face clearly read he was done with Harry's antics. Oh, the Potions Master must have been counting minutes until the end of this very last class with The-Boy-Who-Lived.

Having cleaned up the mess on the floor, Harry returned to his book opened on the page 328. He skimmed through the list of ingredients and headed for the cabinet. Addler's fork, Boomslang skin, moondew, poppy and sage.

Snape looked at the items gathered on his student's desk. ''You may begin brewing the potion. I will refrain from giving you any instructions. For the sake of this lesson, pretend I am a N.E.W.T. examiner.''

Harry glanced at his teacher, who was standing few meters away with his arms crossed. He poured a cup of water into the cauldron and lit up the fire beneath it. Then he got to mincing Boomslang's skin. Maybe it was a good idea to do a review on Veritaserum, but he couldn't really see the point in featuring this potion as an exam task. There's no way it could be finished within a span of an exam since it needed a lunar cycle to mature. But, on the other hand, only a handful of potions were ready to use in a short span of few hours. Now that he thought about it, the potion he was currently brewing would be ready after his graduation, provided that he wasn't going to muck it up, which was rather unlikely.

Harry put the Boomslang's skin into a cauldron and added a pinch of poppy. He glanced insecurely at the recipe. Uh, those stirring patterns were messing with him. Now he needed to stir five times counterclockwise, but once he added Addler's fork he would have to change it to two times clockwise and three times counterclockwise. He was never going to memorise that! He looked at his teacher for some kind of hint, be it scorn or disappointment, but Snape's face remained unreadable.

Actually, the teacher was awfully quiet. Harry had expected Snape to be more talkative during their last lesson. All the teachers made their brief farewell speeches, even the git himself in the standard Potions. But now Snape acted like it was just one of the many lessons with nothing special about it as if there were many more yet to come. Maybe he was simply so done with Harry he didn't even feel like addressing it.

''Put your cauldron on a stasis,'' Snape ordered. Harry looked at him doubtfully, seeing no point in keeping the potion, but decided that perhaps arguing during their last shared lesson wasn't going to leave the best impression. But was there any impression left to protect? ''I expect you to come next week at 4 P.M. sharp.''

Harry furrowed his eyebrows. Did Snape simply forget it was their last lesson? This seemed unlike the former spy. ''Uh, sir, we don't have classes next week,'' Harry cautiously reminded.

''Yes, I am aware, Potter,'' Snape said silkily to Harry's confusion. ''Yet, I would like you to come one last time before your exams. I suppose dedicating your precious time to one Potions class is not going to hinder the efficiency of your study.'' There it was, the trademark sarcasm. Snape certainly was having fun, having waited with the information until the very last moment. But Harry was in no position to decline his teacher's request.

---

Severus was not a traditionalist. He saw nothing wrong with asking Potter to come to the Potions classroom in the week before the N.E.W.T.s, during which seventh-years were traditionally exampted from classes to give them more space for their preparation for their final exams. Naturally, when Jocasta found out she let Minerva know, demanding that Severus cancelled the lesson. Truly, the woman thought too much of herself and her importance. Having spent eight years of his life making sure Potter didn't get himself killed and seven years of them also teaching the brat, he deserved one final lesson with the nuisance, did he not?

And while Minerva quite clearly did not approve Severus' decision, she also related with the Potions Master to some extend. Potter was a special student to all of them, after all. However, the boy was a little more special to some of the teachers than to the others, but Severus' colleagues did not have to be aware of that fact.

On the 4^th of June, Severus was sitting in his classroom. Still his classroom, until the end of the month. He looked at the clock. Five to four. Was the brat going to arrive? He wouldn't put it past Potter to run away from the lesson. It was no secret Severus was boy's least favourite teacher. He felt some kind of tickling in his stomach and he grimaced. He had no reason to feel nervous. It would be just another lesson with the brat. With the only exception being the fact it was the last lesson with the brat. That thought on some low, nearly subconscious level urged him to deny what was about to come. He clenched his fists, angry at himself. He really should not be giving the boy that much thought. If Potter chose not to come, nothing of substance would come out of it. There was absolutely no reason to await him so... impatiently, for the lack of a better word.

Finally, five after four, Potter ran in with a slam of the door. He was gasping heavily. ''Sorry, sir, didn't mean to be late,'' he swallowed loudly between gasps. ''What are we brewing today?'' Gryffindor asked putting his bag on the desk.

''Nothing, Potter,'' Severus stood up and took a step in the boy's direction.

''Nothing?'' the brat crunched up his nose.

''It is our last lesson. Brewing would be counterproductive. Instead I have prepared a set of written assignments,'' Severus laid a sheet of parchment in front of the student. The disappointment on Potter's face at the sight of task concerning Golpalott's laws was evident. ''It would be advisable to revise the theoretical side of Potions before the exam.''

Potter huffed, but slid the parchment closer to familiarise himself with the exercises. Then a let down exhale followed and the student scratched his head as his forehead wrinkled in effort. Naturally, Severus had forseen the boy was about to forget by now the material he had covered back in February. Potions Master's hand reached inside his pocket and touched a stack of sheets of parchment, checking if it was still there.

When Severus had been writing down some notes this week preparing for his classes, he had realised they were not unlike the notes he had been making while having been studying for his own exams many years ago. Tips of his slender fingers brushed the parchment in his pocket as he was torn in two minds.

After a moment Potter returned the parchment with tasks with resignation. Severus swiftly took it from boy's hands and his gaze scanned the parchment. Having reached for his wand, the teacher Accio'ed his quill and began crossing the wrong answers out. ''Well, Potter, I hope you intend to do better on your N.E.W.T. You solved only the half of exercises correctly,'' he said flatly.

The brat groaned in frustration. ''I'm trying, sir! I can't help I'm not as good at Potions as my mum!'' he waved his arms in an uncoordinated manner. ''I guess I take it after my dad... he wasn't good at Potions, right?''

'You take your pitiful lack of skill at Potions after no one,' passed through Severus' mind. ''Yes, Potions was one of the few subject James Potter was not a shining star at,'' he spoke sourly instead. He felt the parchment in his pocket. The boy wasn't James Potter. He wasn't even James Potter's, his mind urged. The man once again reached inside the pocket of his robe and took out the stack of parchment. ''However, you can still make an attempt at outrunning your incompetence. Take this,'' he offered the boy his notes. Severus' days as the teacher were counted either way and soon he was not going to need his notes. Merlin knew the boy needed them now much more than Severus was ever going to. Potter raised his green eyes filled with questions. ''These are my notes. I am aware the Potions N.E.W.T. is taking place next Thursday, so I do not expect you to familiarise yourself with them in their entirety. However, I do hope they will aid you in your studies.''

Potter blinked startled, but once he processed the words, he accepted the parchment warily. ''Are you sure, sir?''

''I would not be offering you my notes, if I were not sure, would I?''

''Thank you, I-'' the boy hesitated, his lips were moving soundlessly as he was looking for words.

''However, in return I would like to ask you to write me a letter informing about your performance once you receive the results,'' Severus said smoothly. Having dedicated eight years of his life to the brat, he deserved to find out what kind of result his efforts brought, did he not?

''But-!'' the brat wanted to protest, but then the cogs in his head started turning as he began calculating the more beneficial scenario. Which almost, almost, brought a smirk to Severus' lips. Merlin, Potter would have made a disastrous Slytherin. Gryffindor looked at the notes in his hand again. ''Fine,'' he nodded reluctantly.

''Moreover, I can offer to tutor you this summer in my home in Cokeworth, should you wish to prepare for the Auror training programme entrance exam,'' as soon as Severus shut his mouth he realised what he had just said. He did not know what force had prompted him to make this offer to the brat. He had just stepped into a dangerous path and needed to tread it with the utmost caution. Some parts of his mind screamed 'Retreat!' and 'Do not get attached', but the words had been said and it was too late to take them back without raising Potter's attention.

''Uh, thanks?'' Potter wrinkled his nose in confusion.

Maybe there was nothing to worry about, Severus concluded. There was no chance Potter would willingly spend his free time studying with the Potions Master. And once Potter was out of school there would be nothing that would be capable of forcing Potter to accept Severus' recklessly made offer.

''One more thing before you walk out the door for the last time,'' Severus went on. ''During the exam go by the book and follow the recipies with the utmost precision. Do not try to get creative – the exam is not a place for experiments. I would not recommend improvising in an exam even to a Potions virtuoso, and as we have already established countless times, you are not one.'' Potter tiredly looked at his teacher, not enjoying hearing once again that his Potions skills were abysmal. ''Forget all the shortcuts I have shown you this semester – the commission is not going to appreciate them. Revise the material and you should do decently.''

''Yeah, I'll try, sir,'' Potter nodded, packing up his bag. ''I suppose this is the moment I head out,'' he pointed at the door insecurily. ''Thanks for these past eight years, professor,'' the boy said in a manner that suggested there was much more to be said and yet it all was captured in that one brief sentence.

''Potter,'' Severus called when the brat was standing at the door, ready to leave. The boy turned around and Severus looked into those green eyes probably for the last time from such a proximity. His stomach squeezed a bit at the thought he was never going to see Lily's eyes this closely again. ''Good luck.''

Gryffindor looked away embarrassedly, probably taken off guard. ''Well, I guess N.E.W.T.s can't be worse than battling Voldemort, right?'' he recovered quickly with a mischievous glint in his green eyes. ''Goodbye, professor.''

---

Frankly, as the week went by, Harry wasn't so sure anymore if studying wasn't as bad as fighting Voldemort. Going through all the books and notes was a true struggle. He looked once more at Snape's notes he had stuffed inside his copy of the Advanced Potion-Making. The notes looked so familiar, sometimes he thought the only thing lacking was a description reading 'The property of the Half-Blood Prince'. There was no doubt the author was the Half-Blood Prince instead of the greasy git. Now he wondered how had he not recognised the swirly in a feminine way handwriting, which he had seen in Snape's memory of an O.W.L. (and what had followed afterwards) and countless times in red ink on his Potions assignments. Harry chuckled quietly. He had lost Snape's book, but the teacher had given him his notes in its place. Not to mention he had done it voluntarily. World was a place full of surprises.

The first exam to arrive was Herbology held on Monday. Truthfully, it was not as difficult as Harry had anticipated – one of the tasks in the theoretical part of the exam was listing the properties of asphodel, so he knew he got at least one exercise right.

Charms took place on Tuesday. Harry wasn't too pleased with the fact that the Anti-Alohomora Charm worked only on the second attempt. Still he had done better than Ron who cast the charm correctly on his third try with a panic written all over his face. It went without saying that Hermione killed it on her first try.

Wednesday belonged to Transfiguration. Ginny had a bit of an issue with the Toad to Toadstool spell as the mushroom started jumping around to the girl's horror. Meanwhile, valves on Harry's freshly transfigured trumped looked like made of tortoise shell. Which, in a way, they were.

Then on Thursday seventh-years were battling against the Potions N.E.W.T. which was split into two parts – theoretical and practical. Harry felt his hands getting sweaty as Golpalott's First Law lay in front of him. Glancing around the room he noticed his schoolmates weren't too overjoyed with their written exam either. How lucky he was Snape had made him revise Golpalott's laws last week. Harry was pretty certain, and he admitted it to himself rather unwillingly, that without Snape's interference he wouldn't have remembered a thing of it. Maybe the teacher had known the examination exercises beforehand? In the practical part Harry had a bit of shadenfreude seeing Eusebius singe his eyebrows in an attempt at brewing the Polyjuice Potion.

The week ended with DADA, which also was divided into two parts. Harry had never been a fan of theory, much more prefering putting things into use. What was the point in listing dementors' characteristics when he knew how to fend them off?

Having landed nearly lifeless on his bed, Harry concluded that his N.E.W.T.s in some ways came out better than his O.W.L.s as he had not passed out during any N.E.W.T., which could not been said about the History O.W.L.

However, the days past his last N.E.W.T. were a bliss. No classes, no assignments and all the time in the world to wander around the castle and drink butterbeer in Hogsmeade. Or at least, so it seemed. The graduation was getting closer dreadfully fast and for the first time in his life he was not looking forward to the end of the school year. He wanted for this undisturbed happiness to last forever. Alas, all things must come to an end.

The day before the end-of-the-year feast the trio headed for Hagrid's hut one last time. The half-giant was waiting for them on the bench in front of his hut. Fang excitedly wiggled his tail.

''Ah, I was beginnin' ter worry yeh were not gonna come, yeh rascals!'' Hagrid cried, locking three Gryffindors in his tight embrace.

''Oh, Hagrid, did you truly imagine we would not come to see you?'' Hermione sighed softly.

The half-giant set them free and blew his nose into his sleeve, making Ron cringe. Harry jabbed the red-head, afraid Hagrid was about to see the disgust on Ron's face for the ooze on Hagrid's sleeve.

''I know, I'm stupid old man,'' Hagrid sniffed.

''You're not stupid, don't even say that!'' Harry protested.

''Yeah, those who think you are stupid are stupid!'' Ron added, catching up with Harry's spirit.

Hagrid looked at the students, moved to the core by their loyalty. With a sigh he returned to the bench and patted the wood, inviting Gryffindors to join him. With sorrow in his eyes he looked at the castle. ''This place' not gonna be the same without yeh,'' he said quietly. ''But, well,'' he clapped his massive hands against his even more massive thighs. ''I knew this day had ter come, sooner or later. Can't keep yeh here forever, can I?''

Hermione rubbed Hagrid's arm. ''We're going to miss you too, Hagrid.''

''Promise yer gonna write?'' Hagrid looked to his left at Harry and to his right at Ron and Hermione.

''Of course! We've already told you so!'' Harry smiled, hoping to offer his half-giant friend some consolation, even though his heart was aching too.

The entire Great Hall was buzzing with students' conversations, whispers and murmurs. Hogwarts' students were on tenterhooks, awaiting the house cup results. Finally, McGonagall rose from her chair in the middle of the staff's table and clapped her hands, demanding silence.

''I am pleased to welcome all of you on the last feast of this term. The past year has been a time of recuperation. Although, it has not been a time without its own challenges, I would like to thank you as the school's community for facing them together. The process of healing is not finished yet and it will not be for the next few years, whether we are talking about the walls of the castle or the wounds left in our community. However, it is my belief that we will rise from our struggles even stronger and more united than before. And I have in mind all four houses, the staff and our ghosts. Now the time has come for what we all have been waiting for – the Quidditch cup and house cup results. I am pleased to announce that the winner of this year's Quidditch cup is Gryffindor. Ravenclaw is close behind, earning the second place. The third place belongs to Slytherin! And last, but not least, Hufflepuff on the fourth place!''

Gryffindor table roared with joy at the news. Ginny puffed her chest, being the proud Quidditch team captain that she was.

''Congrats, guys, you deserve that!'' Harry grinned at the two red-heads like a Cheshire cat.

''Now, wait for it,'' Ron narrowed his eyes. ''Winning house cup should be piece of cake...''

''Don't count your chickens before they hatch,'' Hermione warned.

''As for the house cup,'' the Headmistress said loudly enough for her voice to cut through the animated discussion the students were having right now. Hundreds of pairs of eyes looked at her. ''The fourth place belongs to Hufflepuff!'' a murmur of disappointment filled the Hall. ''On the third place is Slytherin! On the second place – Gryffindor. This year's house cup belongs to Ravenclaw!'' she clapped her hands and the Great Hall was decorated with blue and bronze banners of Ravenclaw.

''Ravenclaw! Ravenclaw!'' yelled the students, mostly the Ravenclaws themselves. Flitwick has not looked this proud in years.

''What? How?!'' if it could, Ron's jaw would have hit the floor.

Hermione rolled her eyes. ''They simply earnt more points.''

Harry embarrassedly scratched the back of his neck, having a feeling the points Snape had taken away from Gryffindor to punish Harry had played their role. He couldn't help but to sympathise with Ron as part of him expected last minute extra points for Gryffindor. Dumbledore would have found extra points to award them. Apparently, McGonagall, despite being a Gryffindor herself was not going to exercise this advantage.

''But we've won the Quidditch cup!'' Ron bargained.

''And Ravenclaw was second,'' Ginny pointed out.

McGonagall spoke again, demanding attention once again. ''As we are nearing the end of this part of the feast, I wanted to wish you safe holiday and rest. And to our seventh-years I wish many successes in all of your endeavours. I believe each one of you has a bright future awaiting you outside the walls of the castle. And finally – bon appetit!'' the Headmistress spoke as the dishes appeared in front of the hungry flock of students.

Ron's hurt Gryffindor pride used to winning the house cup was forgotten as soon as the red-head stuffed his mouth with shepherd's pie.

Harry was enthusiastically devouring his own portion of the pie. Having a feeling Snape's black eyes were drilling holes into him, he turned his head to look at the man and furrowed his eyebrows. Was it... a pendant on Snape's chest? Harry couldn't quite tell from the distance but a small green and silver shiny thing looked like a pendant. Probably a Slytherin pendant. Well, that was something new. He couldn't recall Snape wearing it before. Or any other head of a house wearing a pendant with their house' emblem. Maybe Snape was so happy about Harry leaving Hogwarts he decided to manifest his celebration with this special pendant?

After a moment Harry realised he was staring at the Potions Master and the staring match between both of them made him uneasy. He quickly averted his gaze and looked at the ceiling instead. He was never again going to see the beautiful sky-like celing of Hogwart's Great Hall, he thought ruefully.

''Ah, seventh-years,'' Nearly Headless Nick sighed. ''It is always so sad to see you go.''

---

The day after the leaving feast the first-years to sixth-year students headed for the carriages, while the seventh-years and their teachers gathered at the shore of the Great Lake. The graduation ceremony was much smaller and quieter than the end-of-term feast. Students were standing by the wooden podium, wearing their best robes. Minerva, standing in the middle of the podium, unrolled a scroll with students' names and read them aloud, starting with the best students. It came as a surprise to no one that the first person to be called to the podium was Hermione Granger. Once the Headmistress was finished with handing over the summa cum laude diplomas, she began reading out other names.

Severus felt the weight of the pendant against his neck, even though it was not heavy. When his colleagues learnt he was quitting the job, they had decided to throw him a farewell party before the leaving ceremony. Not only they had brought a cake, but also they had gifted him an exquisite silver Slytherin pendant inlaid with emerald. Naturally, they had not wanted to hear Severus' protests that he could not possibly accept such an expensive gift. And so Severus had no other option but to wear it for both ceremonies, to show his colleagues his gratitude. At least Minerva had respected his wish not to inform the entire school that he was leaving.

The heads of houses led their students to the boats awaiting them on the shore. Severus shook hands with his Slytherins, wishing them successful results of their exams and addressing each of his Slytherins by their name. While he disliked the job, he had always made sure to keep tabs on his Slytherins and to fulfil his duty of the head of Slytherin with due care.

When the heads of houses were done with their farewells, the students boarded the enchanted boats. Hagrid wept loudly, waving at four Gryffindors and one Ravenclaw. Severus watched the frames of students in the distance become smaller and smaller, his gaze wandering back and forth from his Slytherins to The-Boy-Who-Lived and if he were honest with himself, part of him hoped this was not the last time he saw the brat.

Chapter Text

Severus Apparated by the banks of the river. It was a good place for the usage of magic as Cokeworth's citizens, who were already small in numbers, tended to avoid it. In the worst scenario a bunch of kids would spot the wizard, but adults would put the blame for the stories of a man appearing out of nowhere on kids' wild imagination. Yes, he could have utitised the Floo Network, but Severus was in no rush to arrive at his house at Spinner's End.

The man was grateful it was summer – while he had rarely spent winters in Cokeworth in the nearly twenty past years, he vividly remembered from the days of his childhood the chimneys polluting the air, which resulted in a thick smog that had made it difficult to breathe. Spinner's End's inhabitants, too poor to afford good quality coal, had typically warmed their houses with the most sulphur-heavy coal. Following the years of the predicament, the pollution had seeped into the bricks, leaving them darkened and dirty.

Per usual, having stepped inside Severus was met with the sight of furniture and floor covered with a fine blanket of dust. Ah, yes, the beginning of summer, the retired teacher thought tiredly as he put down his trunk. He took his wand and started cleaning the dusty mess of his house.

Once he was done with the ground floor, he climbed upstairs to the first floor, levitating his trunk behind him. He opened the door leading to his bedroom and a creature inside the room hastily shifted its form. Finally the creature assumed a form of Harry Potter lying on the floor without a sign of life with his green eyes wide open and unseeing. Splendid, not only his house was all covered in dust, it was also Boggart-infested, so it seemed.

Severus scowled infuriated by the display of his greatest fear in front of him and hissed ''Riddikulus!''

The boggart in the form of Harry Potter got up, his round glasses askew. ''The Draught of Living Death is made of Boomslang's skin, Hermione's nail and Ron's hair. It should be stirred twenty times counterclockwise until it gets burnt,'' the boggart spoke in the boy's voice with the most ridiculous, absent-minded smile on his face.

''One million points from Gryffindor, Potter!'' Severus grimaced. ''Just when I thought you could not take me by surprise with your impertinence and stupidity you still managed to astonish me. Detention!'' he said opening the window.

Boggart looked with fright in Potter's eyes at the wizard and swifting its form, flew out the window.

Severus closed his eyes and exhaled slowly, waiting for his heart hammering in his chest to slow down. It was only natural the Dark Lord was not his greatest fear anymore, he told himself. The Dark Lord had been dead for over a year. It was perfectly normal for his mind to replace the old fear with a new one, he reasoned, not wanting to dwell on the meaning of this new boggart form.

A few moments later, when his heart slowed down enough, Severus began undusting his bedroom. More or less satisfied with the outcome, he cast a refreshing charm on the bedding stored in the wardrobe. Having crossed off that task from his mental list, with a wave of his wand he made his bed. Then he opened his trunk, ordered his belongings to return to their place in the wardrobe and on shelves. This time permanently instead of the short span of two months, the man realised with a pinch of melancholy looking at his books stacked neatly on the shelf above his bed.

Sitting in the armchair amongst his numerous books in the living room, Severus finally allowed himself to relax after a day spent on bringing his house back to an acceptable state. Still, there was a thought that refused to leave him alone. Since the 30^th of June Draco was a free man. Draco, who had been one of his Slytherins and whose parents naively had put their trust in Severus. The man had reached the point in his life where he did not care what people thought about him a long time ago, so he did not feel particularly saddened by the fact that the Malfoys surely loathed him for his betrayal of the Dark Lord. Yet, he felt he owed something the entitled brat. Maybe in other circumstances Severus would have played the role of the head of Slytherin to his wards in the way that would benefit them and their moral compass more. Maybe he would have done more to get out of their pure-blood heads the very notion of pure-blood supremacy if he had not been forced to hide his true loyalties.

Thus, Severus spent the first evening of his post-Hogwarts life writing a letter to Draco. He was not that delusional to expect a reply from the young Slytherin – Draco had his reasons to condemn his teacher. But maybe Severus was doing it rather for his own peace of mind than for his former pupil.

---

Harry returned to a more or less cleaned 12 Grimmauld Place. Not taking Kreacher by surprise made a huge difference when it came to the state of the house. Normally, Harry would have spent his summer at the Burrow (and at Privet Drive), but being an adult wizard and Hogwarts graduatee, he could not abuse the Weasley clan's kindness.

One of the first things Harry had done in the beginning of July was paying a visit to Tonks and Remus, like he had promised. And then, of course, meeting with Andromeda and Teddy. It scared him how quickly toddlers grew up.

''I wonder when we are going to receive N.E.W.T.s results,'' Hermione bit her nails nervously.

Ron, who was sitting next to his girlfriend on the floor in the Grimmauld Place living room, narrowed his eyes at Hermione. ''Chill, Mione! We've got holidays! We deserve a rest!''

''Actually, we don't have holidays as we are graduatees,'' Hermione pointed out. ''I started looking for a job, but I don't know my chances without knowing my grades,'' she complained.

''Ron's right – if you can't look for a job without N.E.W.T.s results, treat this time as holidays,'' Harry shrugged.

''Oh, it's easy for you, because you have a plan! Speaking of which, shouldn't you be studying for the entrance exam?'' Hermione huffed.

Harry theatrically fell to the floor from the sitting position, unable to take Hermione's nagging anymore. ''What's the point in studying if we don't know if we meet criteria to take the entrance exam?''

Ron pointed at Harry as if the boy had disclosed some kind of revelation. ''Exactly!''

''I mean, I get where your anxiety comes from, but they've got a point too. Look, I'm not happy about being stuck in this kind of limbo of having to wait for N.E.W.T.s results to find a job either, but we can't make the results arrive faster,'' Ginny reasoned. ''I'm curious, though, what kind of job you are looking for?''

''I was thinking about the Ministry,'' Hermione said plainly.

''What? No, Hermione, don't turn into Percy!'' Ron cried out, prompting a burst of laughter from Harry and Ginny.

Hermione rolled her eyes at her boyfriend. He was a dumbass at times, but he was her dumbass. ''I've checked statistics and it would appear muggle-borns are heavily under-represented among the Ministry employees, not that I am surprised. If we want to see a change in the wizarding society, we should act. You-Kn-I mean, Voldemort, may be gone, but the mindset remains,'' the bookworm said.

Ron snorted. ''That's because there are still Death Eaters on the loose. But we will catch them, right, Harry?''

''No, Ron – you are downplaying the problem,'' Hermione spoke harshly. ''It's not just the Death Eaters. Don't you remember the fountain in the Ministry? It wasn't built by Death Eaters.''

''The fountain said nothing about muggle-borns,'' Ron argued.

Hermione looked around and not finding understanding on her friends' faces, scoffed. ''You don't get it, how could you? Ron and Ginny, you are pure-bloods, and Harry, you are a half-blood who happens to be the saviour of wizardkind! You receive better treatment!''

''And you are the smartest witch of the century, so what of it?'' Harry grimaced, tired of Hermione's tirades. Then he glanced at Ginny and it occured to him it might not have been the best thing to say when his girlfriend was around. ''Of course, you are very smart too,'' he added quickly, addressing Ginny.

The red-haired girl looked unamused at Harry. ''You know, it would be better if you hadn't said anything at all.''

''Ginny, you know I didn't mean anything bad!'' Harry half-protested, half-begged. Then he looked at Ron, looking for help, who only shrugged. ''You are not helping,'' Harry hissed in whisper.

---

Severus drummed his fingers against the table. The Leaky Cauldron perhaps was not the best place for meeting due to its popularity and therefore its crowdedness, but it served as a neutral ground. Severus could not imagine stepping his foot into the Malfoy manor ever again and he supposed Draco would be less than thrilled to visit a muggle settlement that Cokeworth was. Nevertheless, the man was quite astonished that Draco had accepted the invitation to a meeting. That was, unless the brat changed his mind and decided not to turn up. Not for the first time Severus asked himself why he was still so involved with some of the nuisances especially if said nuisances had already graduated from Hogwarts and he was not even a teacher anymore.

The door opened and a teenager with unmistakable light blond hair walked in, not bothering to hide his disgust at the design of the pub. He quickly spotted the ex-head of Slytherin and joined his once-teacher at the table.

''Draco,'' Severus greeted the boy.

''Out of all the pubs out there, you couldn't have probably picked a filthier one?'' Draco sneered.

''I can assure you there is a fine selection of less satisfactionary public houses in the wizarding Britain,'' Severus said calmly. ''Nevertheless, I am grateful you decided to come and see me. Are you going to order anything?'' he tilted his head in the direction of the counter.

''Just say what you've got to say and let us each walk their way, alright?'' Severus noticed the way young Slytherin avoided looking at him, especially looking at his scar.

The former spy shared some of Draco's discontent at the place of their meeting and the little to none privacy it provided – he could feel on his skin the curious glances cast in the direction of two rehabilitated Death Eaters. However, there were no better places what would be acceptable for both parties. ''Your anger is rational, Draco. Yes, I have betrayed your family.''

''And somehow you managed to keep the word you've given to my mother,'' Draco scoffed.

''Obviously,'' Severus said flatly.

''You know, she might even forgive you one day,'' Draco looked out the window. ''But don't count on my father's forgiveness.''

''I did not ask for your presence to discuss the past. I asked you to come to talk about your future, Draco,'' Severus explained, forcing the boy to finally look at him.

''What about it?'' Draco drawled, pretending he wasn't interested in the subject, but Severus knew him better.

''You have served your time. In five years, if you are not arrested again in that time, your criminal record is going to be expunged and you will be a law-abiding member of the wizarding society with a clean record once more,'' Severus said. He knew Draco's record, similarly to his own involvement with the Death Eaters will be deemed to have never happened only in the eyes of the law. In the eyes of the wizarding community they will always be recognised as Death Eaters, just like their Dark Marks were never going to completely fade away from their skins. It was and always would be their burden to carry. ''Therefore, it is the right time to think about your education and later the choice of your profession,'' Severus went on. ''Due to your house arrest, you missed two examination sessions, but you are not a lost case. You have nearly a year to prepare for the next year's N.E.W.T.s.''

Draco shook his head. ''And why do you think I want to continue my education? Look at Weasley – he is doing just fine without graduation and without N.E.W.T.s,'' he slapped his hand against the table.

''I know I was not the head of the house I should have been, but I don't want to see you waste your life,'' Severus hissed. ''Hate me all you want – I have earnt it. But you know I am right,'' the older wizard tapped his finger against the table to make a point. ''Forgive me, Draco, but I cannot imagine you working in a shop and you cannnot dream of finding a better job without at least few N.E.W.T.s on your curriculum vitae. If you don't want to make a choice right now, at least think about it. I am sure Narcissa is going to support my stance.''

''You know what? I'm tired of your talks,'' Draco said harshly.

The chair creaked unpleasantly against the floor when the teenager forcefully moved it, getting up. Then Draco headed for the exit, stomping heavily and bumping his shoulders against some of the pub's regulars and closed the door with a slam without turning away. All in all, the meeting went rather civil, considering the circumstances, Severus mused taking a sip of his firewhisky.

---

A year had been enough for Luna's house to return to its former, rook-like glory. It was the second week of July when Xenophilius invited his daughter's friends and some of his neighbours for a bit of a house warming party. There was a bonfire on the courtyard and the host handed his guests sticks with a piece of... something at the end to warm above the fire. Harry was not sure what it was, certainly not a sausage, and judging by Ron's expression, this time Harry's ignorance to wizarding traditions wasn't to blame.

''I just hope this time he's not keeping an Erumpent horn at home,'' Hermione chimed in worriedly.

''Sh!'' Ginny glared daggers at Hermione.

Luna was picking at the whatever that was attached to her stick. ''You should try boozenblem! It tastes the bets while still hot,'' she encouraged her friends.

Harry looked at the bzzz-bleee..., uh, the thing, that despite its name didn't look like a bumblebee at all, and maybe his imagination was playing tricks on him, but he thought he saw it move slightly. However, Luna's intense stare convinced him to go through with the meal. After initial cringe, he forced a smile on his face. The thing reminded him of the taste of the pork neck he had burnt when he had been eight. Back then he had no idea why the dish had burnt so quickly, but now he supposed his accidental magic had been the reason behind it. Wrapping it up, aunt and uncle had made him eat the entirety of the burnt pork and Harry's stomach had not been too happy with it. Yuck.

''So, do you have any tips what about the Auror training before we start our own?'' Ron asked Neville, redirecting everyone's attention from that awful meatpiece he had no will to try.

''Leave Neville alone. You don't even know your N.E.W.T.s results yet, let alone can predict your entrance exam's results. Unless you possess divination skills you've been hiding all those years,'' Hermione pointedly raised an eyebrow at her boyfriend.

Ron huffed. ''Can't we just agree that Harry and I are going to become Aurors? You're gonna bring us bad luck with your negativity!''

Neville toyed with the stick in his hands, almost stabbing himself in the eye with the thinner end. ''Oof. Um, I don't know if there's anything that I haven't already told you. We start with the History of The Dark Arts-''

''Boooring. Why do we even have to learn that? We're not gonna teach warlocks about the history of the spells they've been using,'' Ron groaned.

''Ron!'' Hermione rebuked him.

''And then we have Battle Instincts, Field Training and Stealth and Tracking. You know, traditionally Auror trainees weren't allowed to take part in the missions until their second year, so the first year is the basic stuff. From what I've gathered Concealment and Disguise, Poisons and Antidotes, Duelling in the Dark and Resilience Training are taught in the second year and the rest is a third-year subject,'' Neville shrugged.

''That's a lot,'' Harry recalled McGonagall having warned him that the Auror training was an extremely difficult three-years course that required a lot of further studying.

''Yeah, but it's pretty rewarding. And we receive a decent feedback, which is useful for semetral tests,'' Neville noted.

''There are semestral tests too? Oh, man,'' Ron deflated.

''Yeah, I've had Battle Instincts last week. I got an 'E' without much preparing,'' Neville smirked.

Ginny snorted. ''I bet we all have got our battle instincts sharpened.''

The group of teenagers started laughing by the fire at the absurdity of it all. Of their lives and their adventures. Maybe it was a way of dealing with trauma, but it was so effective. Luna nearly choked on a bit of the busybee... whatever that was impaled at the end of her bonfire stick.

''The owls!'' Mrs. Weasley ran to them, pointing at the sky and runing all the fun. ''The owls, kids!''

Hermione clamped her hand over her mouth. They all knew what it meant. Harry really had hoped it would take longer for the exams to be checked and graded. N.E.W.T.s results meant the end of carefree holidays. Now he would have to start studying for the entrance exam. If he scored good enough to qualify for it, that is.

His heart pounded loudly as he grabbed his letter. Ron looked at him insecurily as if he was asking if they wanted to do it.

''Oh, what are you waiting for?'' Mrs. Weasley hurried them up nervously.

Harry closed his eyes as he was opening the letter and cautiously cracked one eye open, as if it would change the grades for the better. Then he opened another eye and blinked to make sure what he saw was real. Four 'E's and one 'O'? He was in heaven! He looked at Ron, who seemed to be equally hazy on the results.

''So?'' Mrs. Weasley looked like she was about to torn the report cards from them if they refused to tell her immediately.

''I've got all 'E's!'' Ron sighed blissfully.

''Same here,'' Ginny said.

Everyone's gaze fell on Hermione. ''All 'O's except for DADA... I received an 'E','' she admitted unhappily.

''I'm all 'E's too, except for DADA,'' Harry said.

''An 'O', right, mate?'' Ron slapped Harry's back.

''Yeah,'' Harry couldn't contain his smile.

''Oh, Arthur! Arthur!'' Mrs. Weasley looked around trying to spot her husband. ''Where is he?'' she asked annoyed.

''I got an 'O' for the Care of Magical Creatures and Charms... the rest are 'E's,'' Luna smirked at her dad, who joined Mrs. Weasley.

''That's my daughter! I'm so happy my girl is going to become a magizoologist! To think of all the creature you'll be able to see,'' Xenophilius put his hands together as if he was praying.

A muggle barbecue rasped as Mr. Weasley struggled to set it up. Ever since Harry had mentioned barbecue parties organised by uncle Vernon, Mr. Weasley had been dying to try it out. ''What is it, Molly?''

''Oh, Arthur, leave that junk alone! The N.E.W.T.s!'' Mrs. Weasley waved broadly at her husband, urging him to join her. ''Ron and Ginny achieved all 'E's! I haven't been this proud since Percy's exam,'' the witch sighed in delight.

Ron smirked knowingly at Hermione. ''I don't think you have to worry about your job application.''

''Congrats, guys!'' Neville clapped.

Back at the Grimmauld Place Harry stared at his report card. The initial euphoria had faded away. He had achieved the required grades. However, the 'E' next to 'Potions' stared at him accusingly. It was good enough to take part in the entrance exam, but he couldn't get rid of the feeling he let Snape down. Harry had spent entire semester revising Potions with the Potions Master and yet he got the same grade as Ron, who hadn't had extra Potions. Logically speaking, Harry knew an 'O' at Potions had always been out of his reach. But hadn't Snape said he expected no less than an 'O' from his students? What a disappointment Harry must have been... not that it was something new.

On the other hand, Snape did not have to find out. Since Harry wasn't a student anymore, Snape had no means of finding out Harry's results. Certainly, he couldn't force Harry to tell him. In the worst case, Snape was going to take it out on future generations of Gryffindors, but he was probably going to maintain the unfair practice of taking away their points anyway. However, Harry, although unwillingly, had promised to inform his teacher.

Reluctanly, Harry fetched a sheet of parchment and a quill. A promise was a promise. Harry tapped his quill against the parchment, his head empty and all the words scattered around the corners of his mind. The first challenge he was met with was the way to address his teacher. 'Professor?' Snape wasn't his teacher anymore. 'Snape'? No, Snape would probably murder him for that. 'Dear Sir'? Too cordial. Thus, Harry settled for 'Sir'. The parchment mocked him after Harry had written the first word down.

After what seemed like a century, Harry composed a paragraph, but the letter still seemed awfully lackluster. Moreover, there was the question in the air – did he need further mentoring in Potions? Snape had shocked Harry with his offer. He couldn't have been serious, could he? Why would he want to do anything with Harry following Gryffindor's graduation? Had he made the offer because of Harry's mum? If Ron achieved the same grade as Harry, maybe the extra Potions had been just a waste of time? He was going to pass the Potions part of the entrance exam anyway, right? Neville passed it, despite an 'A' at Potions N.E.W.T.

Neville took the entrance exam under less strict rules, his mind reminded him.

And hadn't Snape said 'in Cokeworth'? Harry was given an opportunity to visit the place where his mum had grown up and that thought was very tempting. Furthermore, if he didn't like the lessons with Snape, he could simply withdraw from them. What was the git going to do to stop him? He couldn't assign Harry detentions anymore.

Weighing pros and cons, Harry returned to writing the letter, reminding himself to write to Hagrid as well when he was finished with Snape's letter.

Chapter Text

Severus stirred a potion bubbling and snaping in a cauldron. Having a feeling he heard something tapping, the wizard looked around his home laboratory, but found nothing capable of producing the sound. Maybe he simply overheard or misheard the cracks of fire below the cauldron, he mused returning to his potion.

Then three taps followed once more. Irritated, Severus huffed and walked away from his cauldron to find the source of the annoying sound. Tapping grew more impatient. The sound was rather distinctive, quickly giving away its source. Severus looked at the window to see a tiny, quite restless owl behind it. Oh, yes, he had seen the owl many times before – it belonged to the Weasley siblings. Then, of course, the Weasleys had no reason to send their owl to deliver a message to Severus, meaning Potter must have borrowed it.

The man opened the window and hung his arm in the air for the owl to sit on it. The bird accepted the invitation, eagerly jumping on his index finger.

''I presume you have a message for me?'' he asked and the owl confirmed by streching its leg in the former teacher's direction.

Severus untied the parchment from the owl's leg and unfolded it. He was rather surprised Potter actually decided to write to him like Severus had asked him. His eyes began hungrily scanning the parchment in his hands, when he realised he had a spectator.

''Do not stare,'' he addressed the owl, which ducked its head. Owls were awfully smart birds and he would not put it past this one giving away Severus interest in the received correspondence.

Then he returned to the letter that read:

Sir,

I hope this letter find you in good health. You asked me to share with you the results of my Potions N.E.W.T., which is guess is kind of fair, since you spent a whole semester of extra Potions with me. I don't know how to break it to you, but at the same time it shouldn't come as a shock to you as I've never been great at Potions, as we both know. So, without beating around the bush, I achieved an 'E'. Which is great for me as it's good enough for me to take the Auror training entrance exam. However, I know you expect better from your N.E.W.T.-level students... which would make 'Exceeds Expectations' actually below expectations. Is that the punchline?

Severus pinched the bridge of his nose and slightly crumpling the parchment which rumbled in objection to such a harsh treatment. Did Potter truly think Severus had ever expected an 'O' at Potions from him? Severus was a realist and it had never crossed his mind the boy could have achieved that grade. Had he not told his students that under normal circumstances he would have expected 'O's from them? And sweet Merlin, the brat had no respect for the fine rules of epistle.

So, I'm sorry for wasting your semester, sir.

I've been thinking about the offer concerning the preparation for the entrance exam.

The wizard's throat tightened at those words as he awaited the verdict. Weasleys' owl pecked his finger, having no timing or care for Severus' feelings.

''I have got no snacks for you, there is no point in trying to blackmail me into giving you any, you foul bird,'' Severus said coarsely and the owl hung its head in disappointment.

As I've mentioned earlier, we both know I'm far from great at Potions. The more I think about it, the more I think I could use some more lessons. If you haven't already changed your mind, that is.

Regards,

Harry Potter

Severus let out a heavy, burdened exhale. He had foolishly anticipated the boy to deny the offer. Of course he had once more underestimated Potter's affinity for causing problems. It was dangerous endeavour inviting the brat into his house when Severus no longer had the excuse of being Potter's teacher. But Lily would not want for Severus to let down her – their, his mind treacherously reminded to Severus' anger, son down again.

The wizard put the owl down on the desk. ''I would like you to wait for me while I prepare a reply for Potter,'' he addressed the bird that hooted in agreement.

God, he was going to regret it, wasn't he?

---

Harry stepped into the fireplace with a handful of Floo powder in his grasp. Despite the fact that Harry had already graduated from Hogwarts, Snape was still a pain in the arse for asking Harry to come on Wednesday at 2 P.M. Harry would have greatly preferred to spend this time with his friends and sit in the sunlight. After a throw of the Floo powder and a 'Spinner's End' command, he found himself on the other end of the Floo Network. He shook his head, trying to undust his hair. Wizarding means of transport were incomparably faster than the muggle ones, but Harry hated what they did to his stomach. Always. Be it the Floo Network, Apparation or a portkey.

The room was rather tight. Maybe it were all the books on the bookcases and shelves that gave the impression of narrowness. And then, of course, in the middle of the room stood the host.

''Uh, good afternoon, sir,'' Harry still was not sure how to address his former teacher. ''Thanks for having me.''

Snape eyed him with scrutiny. ''I am not your teacher anymore, Potter.'' Harry furrowed his eyebrows, wondering why Snape decided to bring up pretty obvious that point. ''Therefore, I propose we move on to the surname basis, like the majority of the wizarding society does.''

''Oh,'' Harry said and only then realised the word wasn't uttered solely in his mind. ''Are you sure about that?'' he looked doubtfully at the older wizard. Sometimes it would have appeared that reminding Harry of properly calling his teacher had become one of Snape's special interests.

The former spy crossed his arms and unamusedly raised an eyebrow. ''What is the source of the sudden change, Potter? You have never cared to address me as 'professor' or 'sir','' he reminded icily.

Harry cringed at some of his school years memories, especially at the 'no need to call me sir' one. ''Just making sure, you know.''

''Then I can assure you I would not have made such a proporsal had I not been certain.''

Snape was as pleasant to be around as ever, it seemed. Harry began to question why he had bothered agreeing to the Potions lessons offer. Then the answer to the question arrived immediately – Snape was the only friend of Harry's mum the boy could talk to. Not only that, there were moments Harry felt some kind of kinship with his former teacher. Like they found understanding in their shared grief over Lily. But, man, Snape was not making it any easier.

Snape clipped his hands behind his back. ''Since we have the introductions taken care of, let me show you around.'' The older wizard walked out of the cramped living room and Harry followed him. On the opposite side of the living room's door was a kitchen that served as a dining room as well, judging from the table with chairs standing next to the wall. ''This is the kitchen. Should you wish to eat or drink, I ask you to limit the action to the walls of this room. The last thing I need are stained books.'' The pair walked down the corridor. Snape pointed at the door. ''Do not walk inside this room unless I tell you so. Which I do not believe I ever shall,'' he went on in a monotonous voice. Harry glanced curiously at the door and a tiny voice at the back of his head encouraged him to try getting in when Snape wasn't looking. ''It is my old bedroom,'' the man tiredly explained as if he sensed Harry's impulse to break the rules. Then they walked upstairs. ''This is my current bedroom,'' Snape waved at another door. ''Needless to say, I do not want you inside this room either, Potter,'' he said harshly.

''Got it,'' Harry said. Maybe he still had an affinity for mischief, but he was an adult now and controlled his behaviour much better. Snape didn't have to repeat to him what he was forbidden from doing like he was a child.

''This is the bathroom. You may enter this room,'' Snape said opening the door for demonstration.

Harry looked inside – there was old bathtub with white paint falling off at the edges, old sink with pipes below getting a bit rusty, a sort of counter and a toilet. The place didn't make the user scared that they were going to catch some disease, but it certainly could use a renovation.

Then the former spy walked to the bookcase at the end of corridor and tapped it with his wand. The bookcase moved aside. ''Come in, Potter,'' the man waved at his former student.

Harry stepped in and in front of his eyes appeared a decent potions laboratory with lots of drawers, shelves, cauldrons, various ingredients, vials and bottles. And books. Harry wondered how many books the man owned. The tiny living room was drowining in them. And there was that magic bookcase. And now this. Hermione would have loved this place.

''Nice place, uh, Snape,'' Harry complimented the house.

''Enough of the small talk. We have no time to waste. Correct if I am mistaken, but you do not remember the Veritarevelans recipe?''

''Um, no,'' Harry make a face, trying to recall the potion.

Snape crossed his arms. ''Then let me remind you,'' he said grabbing a sheet of parchment from his desk and handing it to Harry. ''If you do well with Veritarevelans, I shall teach you the third potion from the Veritae kind – Veritavisus.''

''Cool,'' Harry nodded without much conviction. Then he looked around the room and the drawers and shelves. ''Uh, where-?''

''Potions ingredients are stored in these two cabinets,'' Snape pointed at the wall on the left. ''I keep cauldrons in this cabinet,'' he patted the top of maybe a meter tall cabinet.

Having collected the necessaries, Harry got to work. The potion was probably one of Snape's favourites – it was one of the first potions he discussed in Harry's seventh year and now the first potion during these lessons.

However, stirring the potion quickly became boring. Harry rested his chin on his left hand and stirred not too diligently with his right hand.

''If you keep on stirring so negligently, the only purpose the potion will be capable of serving is being poured into the toilet,'' Snape warned.

With a sigh, Harry straightened his back and returned to a bit more proper stirring. ''You must be overjoyed you won't see me ever again in Hogwarts.''

''The occurence of me teaching you in Hogwarts is not going to happen ever again for two reasons: firstly, you are not a student anymore. Secondly, I will not be returning to Hogwarts,'' Snape said.

''Yeah, right,'' Harry snorted with amused disbelief. ''You said you were quitting a year ago and we both know how it turned out.''

''This time I handed the Headmistress my resignation, which she accepted. I believe Horace Slughorn is going to take over Potions and Slytherin from me.''

Harry furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. Snape was serious about it as one could be. ''For real? So what are you gonna do instead?''

''Right now I am trying to teach you Potions and you are not helping in the slightests,'' Snape said flatly.

Harry grumbled. Naturally Snape had to cut the conversation in its most interesting part. ''Has my mum ever visited you?'' he asked after a few stirs.

Snape slightly raised an eyebrow. ''No. I have never invited her. I did not think there was a point in her meeting my parents and seeing my house.''

Harry's mouth left a somewhat dissapointed 'oh'. ''Have you ever visited my mum's home?'' he asked after a few minutes of silence.

This time Snape's jaw tensed a bit. ''She invited me a few times, but I have never accepted the invitation. Meeting her and playing with her in the town and by the river was enough for me,'' he answered stiffly.

''Probably you didn't want to see aunt Petunia. Can't blame you for that,'' Harry looked at his ex-teacher with a smirk on his face.

However, Snape's face was far from joyful. ''You could say that.''

Harry huffed at Snape's unwillingness to talk and returned his attention to the potion in front of him again. The monotonous bubbling made him feel like dying. ''But you know where my mum lived, right?'' he tried again after few moments.

''I suggest you concentrate on the potion, Potter,'' the man said. ''Unless you wish to burn it, that is.''

Well, maybe Snape's voice accepted no objections, but Harry was an unstoppable force to Snape's unmovable object. ''Aunt Petunia has never talked about this town,'' he pleaded.

''This is one of few things I can agree with Petunia – Cokeworth is not interesting enough to be talked about. Everyone who has the opportunity leaves it behind.''

''Oh, please! Can't you show me around? I know next to nothing about my mum's childhood and my grandparents. You are the only one who could tell me anything about Cokeworth, Snape!'' Harry's curiosity was unsated. He could feel the town calling him and he was stuck with potions again.

Snape sighed tiredly. ''There is no chance for you to focus on the potion unless I give you a tour around Cokeworth, is there, Potter? Fine, just this once. Am I clear?''

''Yeah, thanks,'' edges of Harry's lips went up at the prospect of seeing the places where his mum had been to and where she had grown up.

With a wave of his wand Snape put out the fire beneath the cauldron and put a stasis spell on the potion-in-progress. Then he approached a cabinet. Harry was about to point out they should be heading for the secret bookcase passage when the cabinet moved.

''Follow me,'' Snape ordered and Harry obliged with great interest.

This time two wizards entered a narrow and rather dim corridor. ''Another room I expect you not to be found inside,'' the older wizard noted when they were moving past a door and Harry nodded, even though he wasn't sure if the other wizard saw the motion.

The dark corridor ended with a staircase. Harry walked down the stairs and through a bookcase, a different one this time, to exit to the living room to his surprise.

''How many hidden rooms you have in here?'' Harry asked with amazement.

''Let's just say this muggle establishment required some changes for adaptation to wizard's needs,'' the man's voice remained cranky, but Harry could see a spark of pride in man's eyes.

Two wizards stepped outside the main door and Harry waited for the older wizard to close them. Harry half expected Snape to use standard muggle keys to remain stealthy, but he locked the door with magic.

''So... where are we going?'' Harry asked cautiously.

''I will show you the house where your mother and your grandparents lived. Is that not what you wanted?'' Snape pressed.

''Uh, yeah,'' Harry agreed.

They headed to another parts of Cokeworth, the not-Spinner's-End ones. The Spinner's End part of the road led through dark alleys, making Harry think of the streets his aunt had always warned Dudley against. Even though the lectures weren't meant for Harry to hear, aunt Petunia's preaching had seemingly seeped into Harry's system as the young wizard was getting goose bumps. Knowing aunt Petunia's story with Severus Snape it was possible these were the exact streets she'd had in mind when warning her beloved Diddykins.

The town looked rather abandoned. There were hardly any people in the streets. But maybe it could be attributed to Harry and Snape taking a walk in the middle of a week in the afternoon. The majority of people were probably working right now.

''I thought there would be more children,'' Harry pointed out. He remembered having holidays in summer back in the muggle school and he assumed the muggle world hasn't changed that much since he had entered the wizarding world.

''As I said, Cokeworth is depopulating. The wealthier citizens moved out looking for better life opportunities, leaving behind the industrial part of the town and the elders,'' Snape explained matter-of-factly.

After a short walk they stopped in front of a row house of red brick. In some ways it didn't look that different from the houses in the Spinner's End, but it was kept in much better condition than houses in the poorer part of the town. However, there was nothing out of ordinary about the house.

''Here we are. Your mother lived here. Naturally, nowadays someone else lives here, following your grandparents' passing. I have no idea who lives here, so do not bother asking me,'' Snape warned.

Harry hummed in agreement. He would have loved to walk inside the house, but it wasn't an option.

''Since we have crossed off this activity, let's return to potions,'' the former teacher turned around and started walking back to the Spinner's End.

Harry quickly caught up with Snape's pace. ''That's it?'' he asked incredulously.

''Yes. That is what you wanted,'' Snape said tiredly.

''Can't you show me the playground where you used to play?'' Harry pleaded.

''No, I cannot,'' Snape said firmly.

''But why?'' Harry demanded.

''Because the playground was falling apart and the municipality decided it was easier to dismantle it than build a new one,'' Snape said silkily. ''Remember that your mother and I would play there thirty years ago and the playground was by no means in pristine condition back then.''

''What about the banks? The river hasn't dried up, has it?'' Harry mocked.

Snape crossed his arms. ''Yes, the river still exists and it was one of few entertaining things this town provided. However, I cannot imagine you are going to be satisfied with the looks of it.''

''Doesn't matter. Can I just see it?'' Harry asked impatiently.

Snape reluctantly nodded and led the way to the river. It wasn't far away either.

''Oi, lad, I know yow! Are yow that Snape kid?'' an elderly man shouted from distance when the two wizards were in the near proximity of the river. ''Thobias' kid?''

Snape sighed tiredly. ''I am,'' he said unpleasantly.

The man walked closer. ''Heavens! Haven't seen yow in years. Since Eileen's funeral, I think? How long has it been?''

''Fifteen years,'' Snape said through clenched teeth.

The elderly man apparently did not catch the clue to end the conversation. ''Didn't know yow were a priest!'' he looked at Snape's black robe.

''God works in mysterious ways,'' the wizard deadpanned.

''And who yow might be?'' the man addressed Harry.

Harry opened up his mouth to respond, but Snape interrupted. ''He is my student.''

The elderly muggle narrowed his eyes at Harry. ''Yow remind me of somebody, laddie.''

''Uh, Lily Potter was my mum. She lived here,'' Harry said, earning him an angry stare from Snape.

''Potter?'' the muggle bit his lip, lost in thoughts. ''Doesn't ring a bell.''

Oh, right. People in Cokeworth knew his mum under her maiden name. ''Her maiden name was Evans.''

The old man's eyes lit up with recognition. ''Ah, Lily Evans! Yes, I remember. Such a sweet lass... but what was it yow said? She's dead?'' he asked with disbelief.

''We are not going to keep you any longer. Have a nice day,'' Snape said forcefully. The man waved politely his flat cap at the alleged priest and walked away. ''Are you out of your mind, Potter?'' Snape hissed when the man was outside hearing range.

''What?'' Harry shrugged.

''I suppose Petunia hasn't told you not to talk to strangers,'' Snape scoffed and carried on walking.

The wizards arrived at the banks at last. Snape had been right – the view wasn't exactly what Harry would call breathtaking. The river had an unpleasant smell and brownish water flowed down its riverbed. The grass around the bank looked half-rotten and there were some empty bottles scattered around – probably leftovers from a local teenagers' party.

Harry, however, was not going to complain. It would give Snape an upper hand and Harry could see some appeal in the place for ten-year-olds and teenagers.

''Since you are done with admiring the view, I believe we may return to Spinner's End,'' Snape pressed, clearly not impressed with the walk down the memory lane.

Soon they entered the poorer part of the town once again. A lot of memorable places seemed to be within walking distance in Cokeworth. Maybe it was due to the fact that those memorable places were connected to Lily's childhood and kids don't tend to walk great distances.

''We both blend well in the muggle world, wouldn't you agree, Snape?'' Harry asked with a smirk after few moments of silence as he looked at his muggle attire and Snape's black robe.

''Yes, I am sure you found it hilarious, Potter,'' Snape said flatly and then stopped abruptly, making Harry bump into him. The former spy raised his hand ordering the boy to keep quiet. Then the greasy-haired man swiftly took out his wand and hissed. ''Hide!''

Harry blinked. ''What?''

''Do what I tell you. Hide, Potter! Take your cloak and flee,'' Snape furrowed his eyebrows threateningly.

''But sir-'' Harry wanted to protest, to ask what was going on.

Snape grimaced in an ugly way. ''We've got no time for that, you brat,'' his voice was accepting no objections and Harry has already learnt not to argue with the man. At least not when the man decided there was danger somewhere around. It might have been a late wisdom, but better late than never. Or maybe it was a sign of maturing.

Harry pulled the Invisibility Cloak over his frame just before four individuals appeared in an alley. At first Harry took them for muggle robbers or some sort of low-profile criminals.

''Well, well, well, look who we've caught today,'' tall blonde licked his lips, the action exposing some twisted gruesome desire. Harry had heard that voice before.

''Severus... how we wished to see you. And our humble prayers were answered today,'' the other man spoke faux-sweetly and put his hands together. His face looked terrible – his eyes were sunken, his cheeks hollow. No doubt he had been a prisoner in Azkaban.

A man standing next to him, whose face Harry couldn't recognise, looked similarly devoid of life. He was unusually quiet and if not for the flames of pure hatred in his eyes, Harry would have thought he had been kissed by a Dementor.

''Die, you scum!'' shouted the woman. Harry saw her the first time in his life too. The woman pulled out her wand yelling ''Die, you traitor!''

Snape was quicker. In a rapid movement he parried woman's projectiles. ''Rowle, the Ministry will be glad to put you into a prison cell. I have heard about your escape. I must admit I am rather impressed you managed to evade the Ministry's hands for so long,'' he adressed the blonde, blocking an attack from the man with spiteful eyes.

''Face your death, you filth,'' was Thorfinn Rowle's response. He didn't shout – he didn't have to. His voice was eerily calm and hateful.

Snape raised an eyebrow, the only expression on his stoic face. ''Would you like me to lie down to make it easier for you?''

To Harry's horror, green light started to form at the end of Rowle's wand, even though he hadn't said a word of the incantation. The boy drew out his own wand and yelled ''Expelliarmus!''. However, the spell didn't work out as Harry expected it to. The blonde's arms gravitated towards his body and his legs seemed to be glued together and the man fell down.

Simulataneously the sunked-faced escapee from Azkaban cast a hex at Snape and man parried it with such a speed, Harry was immensely impressed with his teacher's agility.

''I suppose it was a 'no','' Snape said in a bored voice, having cast a wordless Petrificus Totalus and defended himself against a hex like it all was a piece of cake.

''Have you seen that?!'' the woman yelled pointing in Harry's direction as if she could she him under his cloak. ''There's someone there! Show yourself! Crucio!''

Harry saw Snape's eyes widen for a fraction of second. The Slytherin cast a wordless spell that made the witch lose her balance. At the same time Harry cast another Expelliarmus, but the spell moved past falling witch. One of unforgiveable flew inches away from Harry's head.

''Snape!'' the ugly man smiled sadistically. ''Who is there?''

''Why do you even bother asking if you know you won't receive the answer, Macnair?'' Snape deadpanned.

Macnair threw a Stinging Jinx towards Harry, who cast a Protego.

''I thought it was me who you were after?'' Snape reminded matter-of-factly.

Walden Macnair huffed turning around to meet Snape. ''So impatient to meet your death? Don't fret your head. We will first kill you and then your companion.''

''Crucio!'' two men and the woman shouted at once. There was no way Snape could have shielded himself from the unforgiveable spell or knocked over all the opponents at the same time. Snape cast a freezing spell at the man whose eyes were filled with fire. A second later the wizard clad in black curled in agony on the ground, breathing heavily and trying not to show how much in pain he was. Harry watched in horror, shiver went down his spine as if an electric bolt slid down there.

''Not so cavalier now, are you?'' Macnair mocked him. ''Crucio,'' he hissed spitefully.

The woman was preparing herself to cast another Crucifying Curse, but Harry screamed ''Expelliarmus!'' making woman's wand fly meters away.

''Potter!'' sadistical pleasure appeared on Macnair's face once again. He looked at Harry who recklessly cast his cloak aside, then at Snape on shaking spasmodically on the ground and again at Harry. ''Crucio!'' he shot another unforgiveable spell at Snape.

''Raaaagh!!!'' Snape's muscles tensed as he screamed in agony. Harry recognised the message behind the pained scream. The message that said 'run'.

Gryffindor, however, had no intention of leaving the man to certain death.

The glint in Macnair's eyes revealed he too knew Harry wasn't going anywhere. ''Avada-'' the man was now facing Harry, grinning with a twisted grin of a person who relishes in suffering, but quickly turned towards Snape aiming the Killing Curse at the ex-spy. He didn't have a chance to finish it – Harry cast a Petrificus Totalus.

What Harry failed to notice was the woman at the very same moment wandlessly Accio-ing her wand with a great effort, apparently not being that adept at the art of wandless magic. Nevertheless, it was enough for her to grab her tool of violence and cast a slicing spell at Snape.

Lump formed in his throat and Harry felt his face getting paler at the sight of red stains dyeing Snape's black robes around his neck. ''No! Petrificus Totalus!'' he yelled but the woman parried it. ''Snape!'' he shouted as he heard terrifying choking noises. ''Expelliarmus!'' didn't work as well. Harry felt panic flowing through his body. Please, no, he begged in his mind. ''No!'' he cried out, tears of despair running down his cheeks. ''Impedimenta! Locomotor Wibbly!'' He wasn't fully registering his own movements, as if his body grew a conscience on its own, he cast a wordless Petrificus Totalus, this time managing to take by surprise the Death Eather woman.

He didn't have the time to think about what had transpired. He ran towards his former teacher choking and bleeding to death in terrible pain. ''Snape!'' he called grabbing older wizard's shoulder. The whine was enough to tell him the man was still alive. Harry repressed the gag forming in his throat at the sight of Snape's slit one. Harry hysterically tried to recall the healing spell for cuts. He didn't have much time before Snape bled out to death or choked on his own blood trying to draw a breath. The memory of him accidentally casting Sectumsempra at Draco emerged in Harry's mind. Vulnera Sanetur, he recalled. ''Vulnera Sanetur,'' Harry said in a sing-song, hoping he was pronouncing it correctly. ''Vulnera Sanetur,'' he repeated and he saw the wound closing. ''Vulnera Sanetur,'' he said the one final time. Harry sighed, seeing the wound fully closed. ''Snape,'' he called, but Snape stared presumably into nothingness. ''Professor!'' Harry shook former spy's shoulders, desperately needing some kind of confirmation it wasn't too late. Snape's hazy gaze landed on the boy and Harry wasn't certain if Snape was aware of his surroundings. ''Professor, do you have the Blood-rep-''

''Son,'' Snape whimpered, staring with eyes full of pain at Harry.

Harry moved his head back a little in confusion. That was the word he least expected to hear from Snape. He could imagine Dumbledore, perhaps Sirius or maybe even Lupin addressing him in such a way, but Snape? Harry was sure – talking to Snape in that state was pointless. ''Accio Blood-Replenishing Potion!'' he cast a spell instead. Luckily it appeared the man had the potion on him as it flew out from his robes into Harry's hand. The wizard in glasses uncorked the bottle and put it to the former spy's mouth. ''You will be alright. You just need to drink this, OK?'', Harry gently rubbed man's arm to offer him some comfort.

Snape coughed while drinking the potion and soon his breath became less ragged. Even though we was no more under the threat of bleeding to death, he was still experiencing the aftermath of the Crucifying Curse.

Crouching beside his teacher, Harry send a Patronus message to Neville to call Aurors. After all he and Snape had caught four Death Eaters.

''You rely too much on the Expelliarmus, Potter,'' he heard Snape's coarse voice.

Normally, Harry would have talked back, but now he was too worried about the man. ''How are you feeling, sir?'' Snape winced trying to get up from the ground. ''Don't get up!'' Harry exclaimed outraged, forgetting for a moment about the manners.

''Your concern is truly flattering, Potter,'' Snape said drily. ''I've lived through worse,'' he hissed and sat up. ''Why couldn't you just listened to me, you dunderhead?!'' he smacked the back of Harry's head without putting any strength into it. ''I told you to hide and run!''

''You could have died!'' Harry argued.

''I could have fought them off if not for you!'' Snape sneered. ''I always have to babysit you, you brat.''

''And the Cruciatus?'' Harry's voice betrayed him, much to his dismay. He wanted to sound angry, to make a point in the argument and instead he sounded concerned.

''I have potions stored at home to alleviate the effects of the Curse. I'll live,'' Snape said harshly. ''Get your cloak before the Aurors arrive,'' he rebuked his former pupil.

And Aurors did arrive, alongside Neville. They all appeared battle-ready and there was maybe a glint of disappointment in the Aurors' eyes they arrived after all was said and done. They didn't even have to bind the Death Eaters with the Incarcerous spell.

Neville, on the other hand, seemed rather shocked by the scene. ''What happened here, Harry?'' he whispered, taking his friend on the side.

''Uh, Snape was showing me his and my mum's town and we were attacked,'' Harry said, feeling a little fatigued from andrenaline leaving his body.

''Oh, we cannot thank you enough, Snape, Potter! We were trying to catch this four for months!'' said Proudfoot.

''Are you two quite alright?'' Savage looked first at Snape's robes covered in blood, then at bruised Harry.

''I suggest you check on Potter,'' Snape said trying to redirect Auror's attention from himself, but Harry knew the man wasn't that well – he was simply good at acting as he clipped his hands behind his back to stop them from shaking.

''Well, I would have recommended you as Merlin's order nominatees, but you already are awarded,'' Savage joked to ease the tense atmosphere.

Neville grabbed Harry's sleeve. ''Are you sure you're fine?'' he whispered.

''Yeah, sure, right as rain,'' Harry answered mechanically, still not having fully processed what had happened.

Having decided there was nothing left to be taken care of, the Aurors departed with four Death Eaters in tow and Snape and Harry returned to the older wizard's house, accompanied by unceasing questions regarding Snape's well-being on Harry's part.

''Uh, would you like me to bring you that anti-Cruciatus potion?'' Harry asked back at Snape's place, insecurily opening various cabinets in the kitchen. He knew himself how nasty the curse was and he shuddered at the memory of having fallen a victim to the curse.

Snape, who was sitting at the table in the kitchen, rested his back against the chairback. He tilted his head backwards, making Harry worry if the wound on his throat was going to reopen (why it had to be the neck again?), and let out a long tired and slightly pained low sigh bordering on a growl. ''Fuuuck.''

Harry looked at his former teacher somewhat startled, but he was not going to reproach Snape for years of complaining about Harry's lack of manners and then swearing himself, because fuck indeed. ''Uh, Snape?'' he called cautiously.

Snape massaged his left temple and Harry wondered ruefully how many times the man had had to pretend he had been alright after suffering the Crucifying Curse.

''No need, Potter. I'll fetch the potion myself,'' the former spy mumbled with less clarity than usual.

''Then maybe you'd like some tea?'' Harry offered.

''I-'' Snape tiredly rested his forehead on his palm. ''I'll be back in a minute,'' he said getting up.

---

Severus could hold back the pain only for so long. His body opposed every step as he headed upstairs to the bathroom. There Severus with his trembling hands managed to scavenge the counter in the search for the Cruciatus-alleviating potion. He battled with the cork and for a moment he was concerned the bottle was going to fall from his shaking hands. Having uncorked the bottle at last, he downed it in one go and closed his eyes, awaiting the relief. His muscles untensed a bit. He exhaled slowly and opened his eyes to look in the mirror.

He inspected the wound. Potter had done surprisingly decent job at closing it. Properly treated with dittany it should leave no scars within few days, unlike the other scar on his neck.

Potter, Severus' thoughts returned to the boy. He had known that inviting The-Boy-Who-Lived had been a disastrous idea and in hopes of changing Gryffindor's mind Severus naively had ordered him to come at most undesirable time. He had failed to take one crucial factor into consideration – Cokeworth was also Lily's town and thus the boy would not be persuaded to decline the offer. Severus could have known better than giving in to the brat's wishes. Merlin knew the Gryffindor was a troubles magnet. Of course the brat would not listen when Severus had ordered him to flee. The killing curse could have easily struck the brat... Severus clenched his fists against the rim of the sink and looked deeply himself into his black eyes – who was he trying to fool? Whether he liked or not, the boy was and always would remain Severus' responsibility. Even though the boy was never going to find out the truth. At this point it was an undisputable fact. He turned away his face scoffing. He's lost. He's lost and the fact the boy was sitting in his kitchen only served as a proof of his defeat. He despised his vulnerability.

He slowly unbuttoned his robe and cast it to the floor. It was going to end in the trash bin, anyway. He stepped naked into the bathtub for a quick shower, washing away the blood from his neck and his shoulder. Having dried himself with a towel, he applied dittany to his newest scar and Accio'ed a new set of robes.

Slightly refreshed, Severus walked downstairs.

''Potter, what are you doing?'' he asked entering the kitchen as he spotted the boy hiding something in his pocket.

''No-nothing,'' Potter yelped. It was clear as day he was lying, but Severus was in no mood for interrogation. ''Uh, I've made you tea.''

''Yes, I can see that,'' Snape said tiredly and grabbed a cup of tea. ''Thank you,'' he forced himself to say and took a sip. The liquid slid pleasantly down his throat. ''I suppose when we are done with Potions, I should revise with you DADA as well.''

Potter crunched up his nose. 'Ummm...?''

''You cannot solely rely on the Expelliarmus spell if you wish to become an Auror, Potter,'' Severus said matter-of-factly.

''Well,'' the boy shrugged. ''It worked against Voldemort, so I guess it should work with other warlocks too. Besides,'' he insecurily scratched the back of his hand. ''I kinda learnt it from you. I mean, when you disarmed Lockhart, we all though it was the coolest shi-I mean, thing ever.''

Severus felt something in his guts and it wasn't entirely unpleasant. ''Lockhart was a fraud.''

''I know, but we were twelve-year-olds at that time, so, you know,'' Potter said a bit embarrassedly.

''You are not a twelve-year-old now, Potter. You need to learn proper spells if you wish to fight warlocks,'' Severus said a bit harshly. After a sigh, he added. ''It was a tiring day. Therefore, I suggest we call it a day. You will finish Veritarevelans next week. 2 P.M. sharp.''

''Are you sure you don't need a company?'' Potter warily eyed him.

''Yes, yes, just go now,'' Severus tiredly waved his hand, wishing to be left alone at last.

---

Harry was sitting in his bed at Grimmauld Place while he stared curiously at several hairs of Snape stored in a tiny plastic string bag. He knew he shouldn't have done that, but the urge had been too strong to resist. The word 'son' still echoed in his head and refused to stop. Back at the Spinner's End he had transmutated a paper tissue into the bag string and then Accio'ed Snape's hair. Luckily only the scattered around ones had arrived at the calling. It would have been most embarrassing is he had magically tugged at Snape's hair, he realised with horror of how close he had been to screwing this up.

Naturally, Snape had caught him in action when Harry had been stuffing the plastic bag into his jeans' pocket. The teenager had though Snape was going to hold him accountable for infringing his privacy, but strangely Snape hadn't.

As for the word... the word meant nothing, it was simply a figure of speech, but Harry still couldn't wrap his head around Snape out of all people using it. But then, Snape had not been fully aware of what he had been saying. Maybe he hadn't been even thinking about Harry.

Harry's eyes didn't leave the plastic bag. Hadn't Sirius said all pure-blood families were related? Potters were pure-bloods and so Princes were, and Harry had conceived what probably was his stupidiest idea so far.

Having asked Kreacher for info about London's genetic testing clinics, Harry left for the closest one. He had seen this kind of stuff in some telly cops-and-action series he had watched when the Dursleys left for holidays, leaving Harry alone at the Privet Drive.

The boy entered a lounge with a deep sense of wrongness. He really was inviding Snape's privacy and if the man found out, Harry was cooked.

''How can I help you?'' the young woman sitting behind the high counter asked with a polite smile.

''Uh, is this genetic testing clinic?'' Harry looked around, second guessing himself.

''Yes,'' she answered with that fake smile.

''I have these hairs...'' he took out the plastic string bag and put the bag on the counter.

''Oh, you came for the paternity test?'' Harry went silent, not knowing what to say. He actually came for distant cousin tests, but the woman would probably laugh at Harry if he said that. ''Keep these for now,'' she slid the bag back to Harry, taking the silence for a 'yes'. ''Are these yours?''

''No,'' Harry admitted awkwardly.

''Do you have a consent of the person who these belong to?'' the woman asked cautiously.

''No...'' Harry coughed.

The woman sighed. ''Look, I need a consent from both of you, alright? May I ask how old are you?'' great, now the woman was quite suspicious of Harry.

''Eighteen,'' at least this one seemed like a correct answer.

''May I see your ID?'' the receptionist was not going to stop asking questions, was she?

Harry perhaps should have taken the questions as a red flag and retreated. Not that he did. What he did instead was confunding the woman into accepting him as a customer. After disclosing his address (to receive the results as the receptionist assured) and paying for the service (it was certainly not cheap, but he was not going to be that unfair on the woman), after short wait Harry was asked to enter the treatment room. There he handed the string bag with Snape's hair to the woman in a white lab coat and blue latex gloves. The treatment was quick – the woman picked few hairs from his head and informed to await the results in one to two weeks.

The uneasiness at his vile actions gripped at his stomach for a while. However, it was sliding from his memory by the time Kreacher made a treacle tart.

Chapter Text

Neville wasn't going to keep the information about Harry and Snape apprehending four Death Eaters to himself. He just needed to share the story with the rest of the gang and to his great surprise he found out Harry had not told their friends about the duel in Cokeworth.

Harry, on the other hand, would have much preferred for his friends not to find out. While Ginny and Hermione focused on the part of the story that concerned four Death Eaters in a muggle town – with Hermione covering her mouth in shock and Ginny scolding Harry for not having been careful enough, Ron focused on the bit concerning Harry having been present with Snape in Cokeworth.

''Wait, you were there with Snape?!'' the red-haired boy cast an accusatory glance at his friend.

Harry rolled his eyes. ''Yeah, Neville has just said that.''

''We were all – I mean Savage, Proudfoot and I, very impressed with Harry and Snape. We've been trying to track Macnair, Rowle, Jugson and Lee down for months!'' Neville praised Harry.

''More like they tracked Harry down...'' Ginny was still busy casting disapproving glances at her boyfriend.

Harry stared at Madam Rosmerta with his eyes full of plea to free him from this conversation. The owner of the Three Broomsticks caught Harry's glance and arrived at the table.

''Another one for you, dears?'' she asked looking at the empty mugs.

''Absolutely!'' Ron exclaimed joyously and the rest nodded in agreement, making Harry's respite from the Cokeworth's subject awfully short. ''Ouch!'' Ron jumped when Hermione jabbed him with her elbow having muttered something that sounded similar to 'don't stare at her arse'. ''But what were you doing there with Snape out of all people?'' Ron asked after a moment.

Harry sighed resigned. It seemed that Ron was not going to let go of the subject. ''Look... He offered to help me prepare for the entrance exam.''

''So? He's in no place to tell you what to do anymore,'' Ron furrowed his eyebrows.

Harry grumbled tiredly. What was the point of explaining when Ron refused to listen? ''He invited me to his home in Cokeworth and I've told you he's been my mum's childhood friend... I may never get another chance of seeing the town where she'd grown up. That's why I agreed. Aaand that's why we were walking around the town...'' he scratched the back of his neck embarrassedly.

''Aw, that's sweet,'' apparently Ginny's anger at Harry diminished a great deal upon her learning the story behind the duel. The girl wrapped her arms around Harry's shoulder and cuddled in.

Hermione looked at the scene with a dose of envy. Ron, failed to get the clue and instead waited for Madam Rosmerta to bring another set of butterbeer. Neville, however, understood what Hermione expected from Ron and suddenly felt quite out of place, being the only single in the group.

---

''You kids are still sitting here? If I were you, I'd go to a pub for a drink!'' Mr. Granger chuckled as he entered the living room.

''Mark!'' Mrs. Granger swatted her husband's arm in a playful manner.

''Tell me you wouldn't want to spend some days of your last such a long holidays drinking with your friends,'' Mr. Granger challenged his wife.

''Oh, stop embarrassing yourself in front of the youth,'' Mrs. Granger smirked at Hermione hidding her face in her palms.

''We went to a pub last week,'' Hermione sighed.

''Yes, but you usually go to the magical ones. Which is not a bad thing, you are witches and wizards, of course,'' Mrs. Granger elaborated. ''But maybe your friends would like to get acquainted with non-magical ones?''

''I'd like to, for a change,'' Ron said with increased interest.

''Ginny's not eighteen yet, dad,'' Hermione pointed out.

''Oh, right!'' Mr. Granger slapped his forehead. ''I keep forgetting wizards have different age standard for coming of age.''

''Chop-chop, we're going to be late for the play,'' Mrs. Granger glanced at the clock. ''Crookshanks, you stay,'' she waved her finger at the cat. ''Have fun, kids!'' she said closing the door behind her.

''Your parents seem more fun than I'd give them credit based on your personality, Mione,'' Ron said.

''Shut up,'' Hermione swatted Ron's arm and now Harry knew where had she got that.

''Going to a muggle pub for Ginny's birthday sounds like a fun idea, doesn't it, Ginny?'' said Harry. Mr. Granger might have been joking, but the teenager actually fancied the idea.

''I'd love to go!'' Ginny smiled brightly. ''Just write it down in your calendar, so you don't forget it, Harry,'' she smirked.

Harry furrowed his eyebrows. ''Have I ever forgotten about your birthday?'' Then he tried to visualise a calendar in his mind. ''Uh, 11^th of August is on Wednesday this year?'' Harry brushed Crookshanks' fluffy tail from his face. The cat's fur tickling his nose made him feel like he was about sneeze in a second.

The cat meowed, voicing his disagreement, and jumped on Hermione laps instead. Which seemed a much better idea as his owner soon started scratching him behind his ear. Crookshanks purred happily.

''Yeah, why?'' Ginny was taken off guard by the question.

''Um, I'm kinda busy on Wednesday afternoons and maybe evenings?'' Harry said warily.

''No problem, we can go on Thursday after my birthday,'' Ginny shrugged, but Harry had a nasty feeling he had said a wrong thing. Despite having dated Ginny for quite some time now, he still had no idea how to talk to girls in a way that did not enrage them.

''Wha-wait,'' Ron raised his hand, telling Harry to stop. ''Why would you be busy in a way that doesn't involve Ginny?''

''Harry can have his own life. Maybe he wants to see Teddy or something,'' Hermione shook her head disapprovingly.

Ron, however, eyed his friend studiously. ''No...'' his eyes widened as a thought appeared in his head. ''Don't tell me you are still going to the Potions with the git!''

Harry sneered. ''And if I am, then what?'' Yes, he knew it was weird he still voluntarily was having those classes, there was no need to bring it up.

It appeared that despite the fact that a week had passed since Neville had spilled the tea, Ron was still offended that Harry had accepted Snape's offer. ''Ugh, I can't believe I let you borrow Pigwidgeon only for you to write to Snape,'' Ron scoffed crossing his arms. ''If I knew, I wouldn't let you.''

Ginny snorted, amused by her brother's antics. ''That's probably why Harry didn't tell you.''

''I think it's praiseworthy Harry wants to work on his Potions before the entrance exam,'' Hermione cut in.

''And I think it's unhealthy he is still having classes with the git. He's always mocking you, Harry!'' Ron protested.

''I mean, uh, he's not that bad when he doesn't have an audience,'' Harry pointed out.

''You are growing some kind of sick attachment because he knew your mum,'' Ron cringed at his own words.

Redhead actually made Harry question himself. Was Ron right? Maybe Harry's attachment to Sirius and Remus had also been unnatural and merely caused by their friendship with his dad?

''Oh, don't listen to him. He's just jealous Snape didn't invite him,'' Ginny said cheekily, sensing a drop in Harry's mood.

''Me?!'' Ron nearly shrieked outraged at the accusation.

''And how are your lessons going? What are material are you covering?'' Hermione asked while petting her cat.

''We've started Veritavisus yesterday. He says the Verita- potions are important for Aurors. Aaand I've nearly set Snape's lab on fire,'' Harry added embarrassedly.

Ginny burst into laughter, imagining their teacher's face and then quickly muttered ''Sorry,'' while trying to suppress her laughter, without much success.

Hermione, on the other hand, surely was making a mental list of the potions she was going to make Ron study before the exam.

Harry returned at the Grimmauld Place in the late evening or maybe even in the early night, feeling pleasantly relaxed from the time spent with his friends.

''Master, a letter has arrived for you,'' Kreacher greeted him when Harry crossed the threshold. ''Kreacher has collected the mail for his Master,'' the house elf said in a low voice, afraid of disturbing the portrait of his late mistress lest it caught a clue it was a muggle mail.

Kreacher took a letter from his dirty rags and handed it to Harry, who narrowed his eyes at the envelope. Oh, it was from the genetic testing clinic. Harry had forgotten it's been already over two weeks since he had gone there. ''Thanks, Kreacher,'' he smiled at the house elf and headed for his bedroom.

''No supper, Master?'' Kreacher asked anxiously.

''Not hungry, thanks,'' Harry replied walking upstairs.

The boy put the letter on the nightstand and took his pajamas and a towel from a wardrobe. Leaving for the bathroom, he only cast a glance at the letter. He was going to take a look at it tomorrow. The letter wasn't anything important, after all, only a stupid whim. It could wait for the next day.

---

Harry woke up the next day and yawned feeling pleasantly rested. Despite that he did not rush to get up from his bed. He forced himself to step out of the bed only maybe half an hour later, when his stomach started demanding breakfast. If not for an accidental glance cast in the nightstand's direction, he would have forgotten about the mail. He picked it up and walked downstairs.

In the dining room Kreacher was already awaiting him with a nice, square meal. Harry put the letter on the table and began wolfing his breakfast. Only when he was done with his meal, he looked at the unopened letter. Frankly, he was not that interested in its contents, his mind much more occupied with his birthday party that was going to be held the next day in the Burrow.

Harry took a sip of his coffee and torn the envelope open. Having took the report out, he let his eyes scan it. There were three columns: one with the test number, one titled 'child' and one titled 'alleged father'. Harry grimaced at the name of the last column. In the most left column there were some weird sequences of letters and numbers that told absolutely nothing to Harry. In two other columns there were rows of numbers – some of them appeared in both 'child' and 'alleged father' columns.

Harry narrowed his eyes at the numbers clueless how to interpret them. There was no option he could learn from those numbers how closely he and Snape were related. He had expected for this kind of papers were easier to read. In the cops tv series he had seen forensic scientists had always been able to get the information the detectives needed from hairs, nails and whatnot. Well, he should have probably taken into account those tv series were fictitious and not even trying hard to stay believable. Oh, well, it seemed that Harry had wasted not a small sum of money on a whim, which served him right, he supposed.

Harry's sight slid down the page, below the table and then he spluttered the coffee. Probability of paternity: 99.9997%? What the hell?! It had to be wrong!

Harry got up and started pacing around the house. What did it mean?! How?! Had Snape known Harry had taken his hair and pranked him to teach him a lesson? The fuck?! The boy's breath was quick as he tugged at his hair.

His eyes caught the sight of the fireplace. Yes, he needed to see Snape and ask for an explanation. There must have been a mistake! He grabbed a fistful of Floo Powder, while still grasping the report in his other hand, stepped into the fireplace and commanded 'Spinner's End'.

Nothing happened. Ugh, Snape must have somehow blocked Harry from using Spinner's End's fireplace outside their classes. Then Harry looked down at himself. Maybe it was for the better he hadn't appeared at the Spinner's End like that – he thought realising he was still wearing his pajamas.

Harry rushed to his bedroom, changed into something more acceptable and Apparated.

He appeared in an alley near the clinic. He quickly crossed the distance between the alley and the clinic and marched in. He was greeted by the very same receptionist as the last time.

''How can I help you?'' she asked politely.

''Uh...'' Harry looked at the report and put it on the counter. ''I've received this... uhm...''

''You have received your DNA report and would like to ask for interpretation?'' the receptionist suggested.

''Well... no. I think there was some kind of mistake. You see, it says that man is almost surely my father,'' Harry tapped his finger against the probability percentage on the paper.

''I can assure you that the clinic maintains the topmost care during the testing. The results are accurate and true,'' the woman explained calmly.

''But it's not possible!'' Harry protested, feeling strangely disconnected, like the world around him wasn't real.

The woman inhaled deeply, most likely having had this kind of conversation numerous times. ''Look, if you came here for the paternity test, you must have at least partially expected this outcome. I know it can be difficult, sorry,'' she added sympathetically.

Harry opened up his mouth, but chose against arguing further. What was he going to tell her? That he had taken the test because he hadn't been aware how it really worked? He looked again at the words reading 'Probability of paternity'. Muggles seemed to trust these tests... people said numbers don't lie, but how it could be possible? His mum had loved his dad – James Potter! Snape hadn't even been a part of equation! But Snape loved Harry's mum...

''Right, sorry,'' Harry blinked, suddenly returning to the reality. ''I'll be going,'' he said picking up the report.

As soon as he was out of muggles sight, he Apparated in front of Snape's door. He needed to see him, to make him explain, to see his reaction.

Harry rang the doorbell. And then again, having not received any answer. And again, and again, and again. He felt his heart speed up.

''Snape!'' Harry called, hitting his clenched fist against the door. The git was not getting out of this.

Finally, the door opened, revealing the black-haired man wearing a scowl on his face. ''What is it, Potter? You'd better pray it is something important enough for you to disturb me,'' he hissed.

''Yeah, it is!'' Harry angrily narrowed his eyes at the man. ''This is important!'' he said shoving the report into Snape's face. ''Care to explain this?!''

''What are you-'' Snape started his usual grumbling, but then his gaze actually focused on the paper. Harry could swear he could see the man grow paler as his mouth opened up slightly in shock. Then his eyes landed on Harry and it would appear the older wizard was actually scared.

And that alone was enough to set Harry's temper on fire. Snape had said nothing, but his reaction had told Harry everything. The receptionist had been right – the report was correct. ''You knew all this time?! When were you going to tell me?!''

The former spy quickly composed himself. ''You were never supposed to find out, Potter,'' he said harshly.

''What?! Don't I deserve to know?!'' Harry shouted.

Snape looked at the younger wizard tiredly. ''Stop yelling in the street. You are making a scene.''

''Then let me in!'' Harry waved his arms furiously.

''I do not think there is anything left to discuss on that matter,'' Snape said firmly.

''There's everything to discuss! All my life turned out to be a lie! Again! I'm sick of it! And what about James?! Did he know?! And why would even my mum would be with you? She loved James, not you!'' words flowed through Harry's mouth like a water through a broken levee, more quickly than his mind could register their meaning. ''Did you force her?! Did you use a love potion like Voldemort's mother had?''

Snape's eyes burnt with anger. ''Potter, I warn you,'' he said slowly.

''Or what?! What are you going to do?'' Harry dared and Snape's silence only encouraged him to keep on going. ''I can't believe I trusted you! I thought you've changed, but you are just still the same bitter petty man. Oh, I am sure you felt wonderful when you made fun of me and my dad knowing well he wasn't even my biological father. 'You're just like your father'? Very fucking funny,'' Harry spat. A twitch of corner of Snape's mouth made Harry want to bury the verbal knife in Snape's gut even deeper. Hell, it probably didn't even hurt the man. ''You disgust me, Snape,'' he said coldly and then turned around and walked away, not giving the older wizard the time to respond.

Despite that, the anger in Harry's guts was still burning vividly and on an instinct he chose his next destination.

---

Severus closed the door with a loud slam. His heart was hammering furiously in his chest. He hit a wall with his fist with a yell and he didn't care in the least it made his hand hurt.

He had known back from the start it had been a disastrous idea to get closer to the boy. The brat had a knack for finding out things he was not supposed to – Potter learning that Severus was his biological father was purely a matter of time. What had he been even thinking? That the boy was going to accept him once he found out the truth? That Severus was made for peaceful life?

Severus was consumed with fury to the degree he had not felt in a long time, probably even since his argument with Dumbledore. Fury that demanded to be manifested outside. And so with a swift motion of Severus' arm his fine china was gone from a kitchen cabinet right to be shattered on the floor.

Severus screamed, breaking his possessions not being enough to calm his inner turmoil. He was perfectly aware he had no claim on the boy. Why then had Potter's words left a hole in his chest? He had told himself countless times not to get attached. He had thought he had not got attached, that he had been simply honouring Lily's memory by helping her son.

My son, his mind unhelpfully added, leading to a kettle joining the china on the floor.

When has he become so attached?, he wondered tugging at his hair, feeling utterly pathetic. Was the spell Severus had used to save the brat's life the reason behind it?

The worst part of all was that Severus had no one to blame but himself. Maybe if he had asked the boy to come inside, like the boy had wanted, things would have turned out differently. But he always had to say the wrong thing and ruin anything of value in his life.

No, inviting Potter would not have changed anything. The boy's father was the golden boy James Potter, who had sacrificed his life for his son. James Potter, the school star. James Potter, the brave member of the Order of the Phoenix. And Severus? Severus was an impostor, an intruder, a stain on the perfect picture of the Potter family. Severus had never meant to have a family of his own. He had not maintained a single one meaningful relationship in his life. He had destroyed his friendship with Lily and even though he did not remember the events that had led to the brat's conception, he was sure it must have been a result of some mistake. While Severus knew himself enough to be certain he had not tricked Lily into sleeping with him like the boy had accused him of, the boy had been right about one thing – Lily had no reason to be with Severus when she had had James.

Truthfully, Minerva probably remained Severus' friend out of pity, too.

The boy should have never found out, alas it was too late now. Obliviating the boy was not truly an option.

How should he get rid of this gaping hole in his chest? Severus' breath was quick and uneven, and he felt like he was on a verge of mental breakdown. He clenched his fists until his knuckles went white and took in a shaky breath through his teeth.

His hopeless desperation was devouring him from the inside and he deserved every single bit of it. People said time heals all wounds, but Severus knew better. There was no way of getting rid of that awful feeling. Calming Draught was not going to help, not in the long run at least.

When the wave of anger passed, leaving only powerlessness behind, Severus finally looked at the mess he had made of the kitchen. He cast a Reparo, bringing back the china and the kettle to their previous unbroken state, and left the kitchen a defeated man without a job, an aim in his life and without a future, a tool outliving its usefulness.

---

Harry Apparated in front of the St. Jerome church in Godric Hollow and headed straight for his parents' grave.

''I found out,'' he said standing in front of the tombstone. ''Did you know too?'' he asked looking at the letters reading 'James Potter' carved in the stone. ''Did you plan on telling me if you got the chance or you also thought I wasn't supposed to find out?'' Harry asked harshly.

For the first time he wished he had not thrown away the resurrection stone. He had so many questions and no one to answer them.

''Were you OK with not being my biological dad?'' Gryffindor's voice lost its cutting edge. ''And why?'' he looked at Lily's name. ''I thought you two loved each other.''

Harry sat on the grass and pulled his knees to his chest. ''Why nobody ever tells me the truth? I'm an adult, I don't need to be protected from it!'' he scoffed, but there was no one to answer his complaint.

Everything in his life was a lie, or at very least truth hidden away from him. First, his parents' death and the wizarding world, then him having a godfather, Harry's role in the war and him having been a horcrux and now his biological father's identity. Harry chuckled darkly – at this point it shouldn't have come as a surprise to him, really.

He wondered if his patronus had been a lie too. Shouldn't it be a doe like his both biological parents' patronuses? He took his wand, and let warm feelings about his parents – the ones he thought they had been his parents up until yesterday, fill his chest. ''Expecto patronum!'' he called.

A magnificent stag appeared behind the tombstone. A stag, Harry breathed out, still a stag. He watched his patronus jump gracefully and the guardian unchanged form brought him a little comfort. Not everything was a lie, apparently. His love for his not-bio-dad wasn't, the corners of his lips slightly rose up and went down when the patronus disappeared.

Maybe he shouldn't have reacted so strongly to the news, but Snape had not helped to calm Harry's temper down, having dismissed Harry so quickly. On the other hand, what else should have Harry expected from the man? Harry surely wasn't a child Snape had wanted.

The teenager rested his head against his forearms crossed on his legs, thoughts full of doubt filling his restless mind. He was alone in the maze of lies with no guesses what awaited him behind the nearest turn, and with nobody to guide him through the maze. Who else knew? Was Harry, as usual, the last one to find out?

Chapter Text

Harry spent the night rolling in bed from his one side to the other. Normally, he would have spent a sleepless night from the 30^th of July to 31^st of July, impatiently awaiting his birthday. This year, however, his incoming birthday was all forgotten on that night, the sole reason behind his lack of sleep being his mind occupied with what he had learnt.

Who else knew? Maybe all of the Order, like it had been the case with them hiding from him the fact that Sirius was his godfather? And speaking of his late godfather, had Sirius known? Had it been the reason why Sirius had treated Harry as James' extension? Had Sirius forced himself to see James in Harry to deny the notion that James wasn't Harry's biological father? Had Mrs. Weasley reminded Sirius that Harry wasn't James to remind him as well of Harry's real parentage?

Harry had so many questions and no one to answer them, aside from the greasy git of his biological father, whom Harry had no desire of seeing ever again.

Then another uncertainty arrived – the question whether Dumbledore had known the truth. No, it couldn't be, Harry decided. It would have been too cruel... Dumbledore having asked Snape to sacrifice Harry had been heartless on its own, but if the Headmaster had known, it would have been altogether barbaric. Dumbledore surely would not have asked Snape to sacrifice his son if he had known, right? Harry tried desperately to convince himself of Dumbledore ignorance, but failed to find a plausible argument in late Headmaster's favour.

What kind of horrors must have Snape experienced when he had found out Voldemort had set his mind on killing Harry...

The teenager felt a grip of sadness on his guts and scoffed. That two faced bastard didn't deserve his sympathy. The war was over, Snape had no reason, no right to keep hiding the truth from Harry. Even if – no, even though Harry had been an accident on Snape's side – it didn't take a genius to figure out Harry wasn't meant to happen to Snape. Still, it didn't not absolve the git from having lied to Harry.

However, the picture of heartless, uninterested Snape was disturbed by the events of the last year. Firstly, Snape had saved Harry's life once again, but it could be attributed to his duties as a teacher. Secondly, Snape had given Harry the salve for his Umbridge-itis, something no one had expected him to do. But then, Snape had probably been acting rather on his obligation to Lily than to Harry. There was another thing that didn't fit the picture – the extra Potions. Why had Snape cared so much to get Harry to attend those lessons? It was irrational – the logical outcome of not wanting to have anything to do with Harry would be trying to avoid him much as Snape could. And then extending the offer to the summer? It made no sense.

A bold part of Harry's mind, probably the very same that had deemed doing the genetic test a wonderful idea, suggested that Snape had looked for means of getting closer to Harry.

'Hadn't you felt at times that Snape cared?' the voice in his head pressed.

''Don't be stupid,'' Harry whispered forcefully and rolled on his other side offended at himself for coming up with such a ridiculous idea. The thought of Snape actually wanting to act on his fatherhood was simply bollocks.

The Burrow was already a crowded place when Harry arrived. All of the Weasleys that were supposed to take part in Harry's birthday party were there – Ginny, Ron, George, Mrs. Weasley, Mr. Weasley and even Percy. Hermione was of course awaiting Harry at the Burrow too, making the Neville and Luna the only invitees missing.

Luna appeared shortly after. ''I'm sorry for being late, but I couldn't just leave earlier. Umgubular Slashkilters were around the door and, as you know, stepping over them brings bad luck,'' the blonde explained as if it was the most natural thing to do.

Harry opened up his mouth to say something, but Ginny beat him to it. ''Well, we're happy you got that sorted out,'' she said hugging her eccentric friend.

''We surely wouldn't wish bad luck to anyone,'' Ron said flatly, earning herself a disapproving glance from his sister.

The teenagers sat in the living room, waiting with the cake and candles for Neville to arrive, while Harry acted mostly as a listener of the conversation rather than actually taking part in it.

''I'm having a Magizoologist course entrance exam in a month,'' Luna said out of the blue.

''I'll keep my fingers crossed. Hagrid's gonna be so proud of you,'' Ginny smiled.

''How are your preparations for the Auror entrance exam going?'' Luna asked two boys.

'Swimmingly,'' Ron deadpanned. Hermione was already killing him with the study plan of her making.

Harry grumbled affirmatively, his tone matching Ron's sarcasm, but as he was lost in thoughts of Snape, Potions were the last thing of importance about the man at the moment. Yesterday had been a distaster, but he couldn't really see it going any better. Harry buried his face in his hands, tips of his fingers digging into his hair and he groaned over the internal struggle. Everything felt wrong about the predicament. Why had his mum cheated on the man Harry had thought to be his dad? Hadn't she loved James? And why had she made up with Snape? Maybe she had felt sorry for not having stepped in when James had bullied Snape? Even if she had, why had she slept with him? It hadn't been some kind of repayment, right? That would have been too messed up, he cringed internally at the idea.

''Ron is... making progress,'' Hermione glanced at her boyfriend.

''Are you alright?'' Ginny softly touched Harry's shoulder, bringing him back to the Burrow living room.

''Yeah,'' Harry nodded, putting on a happy face. ''I just couldn't sleep, that's all.''

''Come on, mate! Being nineteen isn't that bad!'' Ron jokingly hit Harry's back. ''Right, Mione?''

''Yeah,'' Hermione bit her nail.

Luna tilted her head, curiously looking at the bookworm. ''You are nervous too,'' she said in her dreamy voice, but it was a statement, not a question.

Hermione fidgeted her fingers before moving onto playing with her hair. ''I've got a job interview on Monday,'' she admitted reluctantly.

''What? You haven't said anything,'' Ron furrowed his eyebrows.

Hermione looked away. ''I didn't want to bring bad luck with talking too much about something that is not certain.''

''Well, I know for sure that the Ministry is absolutely dumb is they don't take you,'' Ron smirked with the silly smirk he usually had on his face when he was flirting with Hermione. Apparently it worked as the girl's face turned a bit redder.

George sneaked into the living room. ''Have I heard the mention of the Ministry? Come on, Hermione, you are cooler than our dad and Percy. Don't waste your life like that!''

A ring of the doorbell interrupted the conversation and teenagers rose from their seats. Except for Harry who was too preoccupied with the upsetting news of the previous day to notice the sound.

''It's probably Neville. It's your birthday, you should greet him,'' Ginny said yanking her boyfriend's arm to get him moving.

Ginny naturally was right – it was Neville apologising for being late and explaining that his grandma had kept him a little bit longer. Then Neville presented to Harry a box wrapped in a present paper.

''Uh, we were actually thinking about giving presents after the cake,'' Hermione reminded embarrassedly.

''Uh, it's OK. I can open it with the rest,'' Harry took the gift from his friend. ''Thanks, Neville,'' he smiled slightly.

''Yeah, besides we're gonna get to the cake soon, anyway,'' Ginny looked at Ron from the corner of her eye, knowing well he was mostly thinking about eating the cake right now.

Mrs. Weasley was a true mistress of the cakes. This time she prepared for Harry a cake shaped like a capital 'A' with a wand.

''Now, dear, make a wish!'' Mrs. Weasley urged.

Harry leant over the table and blew the candles just to cross this activity out, but his head for the very first time was void of any wishes. Not that anyone knew, as they cheered for him as if he had made the boldest wish.

Then time for presents arrived. Harry opened every one of them with a thankful smile on his face, but frankly, he couldn't bring himself to care about them, though some of them were very nice. Next, the cake was cut and eveybody received a piece.

''What is it?'' Ginny asked, her voice was laced with concern.

Harry dug his fork into his piece of cake. ''It's nothing. Told you already,'' he shrugged, but Ginny's hand on his shoulder steadied him.

She looked him deep into eyes as if she was trying to read his very soul. ''You're an awful actor, y'know?''

''I'm not acting,'' Harry scoffed.

''Come on, you're not enjoying your party at all. It's unlike you! Harry,'' Ginny said a bit more firmly, forcing him to look at her. ''You can tell me, whatever it is.'' Harry opened up his mouth, but Ginny cut in. ''Just don't say it's nothing,'' she warned.

''I... uhm,'' Harry sighed loudly, unsure what to do. Yes, he knew he should tell Ginny what was bothering him, but on the other hand, it was too much. Would she believe him? He still hardly could believe it! What would Ginny think about him if she learnt the truth?

''Harry,'' Ginny pleaded.

''Can we...'' Harry sighed again in defeat. ''Can we go somewhere where there's not so many people?''

''Sure,'' Ginny said and she led him to her room.

Harry stood there, his head still full of doubts. There was no turning back once he told Ginny. But what he was going to tell her in the first place? 'Hey, so it turns out Snape is my dad'? No, there was no way of putting it correctly into words. The look Ginny was giving him was anticipatory, which was even worse than her verbal urging.

''I don't know where to start,'' Harry admitted powerlessly as he sat on Ginny's bed.

''Harry...'' Ginny sat next to him and softly rubbed his back. ''You can count on me. I'll help you the best I can.''

''Yeah,'' Harry chuckled drily. ''I don't know how you can solve it.'' Now Ginny looked truly worried. Harry grimaced, turning his face away. He didn't want to worry her and it wasn't even a thing she should be worried about. ''Argh,'' he grumbled in frustration. ''Muffliato!'' he waved his wand.

''Is it truly necessary?'' Ginny asked cautiously.

''Ah-Can I ask you to keep to yourself what I'm gonna tell you?'' Harry looked at his girlfriend with begging eyes.

''Naturally!'' Ginny assured quickly.

The boy put his fingers under his glasses and pressed them to his eyes. ''I don't know how to tell it,'' he mumbled from behind his hands. ''I found out I've been lied to about my family... again,'' he added in a self-deprecating manner. Harry inhaled deeply. Better rip off the bandage quickly, right? ''Snape is my father.''

A thick silence fell and Harry looked at his girlfriend to see what kind of reaction his confession brought. Ginny scrunched up her nose, not unlike her youngest brother did and blinked, probably still processing the information.

''Yeah...'' she said after a minute. ''I can imagine it could be a lot to deal with. I don't wanna sound discouraging, but are you really sure about it?'' she looked at him, her eyes scanning his face. At least she took it seriously and that was not a bad place to start.

''Yes,'' Harry admitted unwillingly. ''I don't think I have the right means to question it,'' he picked at the ends of his shirt.

''Oh... And did he tell you that? Is that why he asked you to come for Potions in summer?''

''No, I-,'' Harry scratched the back of his neck, ashamed of his action that had come back to bite him. ''I kinda found out on my own. But that's not the point,'' he added quickly, almost begging Ginny not to ask about how he had found out.

''But does he even know?'' Ginny asked carefully.

''Oh, yeah, he does know, alright,'' Harry sneered, recalling Snape's reaction to the genetic test. ''Didn't look so surprised when I told him.''

Ginny's eyes widened and she squeezed Harry's hand. ''So you've talked to him? What did he say?''

''That I hadn't been supposed to find out,'' Harry huffed.

''Oh, that son of a bitch!'' Ginny exclaimed to Harry's surprise.

''Could you not call my grandmother a bitch?'' Harry tried to make a joke, but his jaded tone killed it altogether. ''Eileen Prince seemed nice, I guess,'' he said, thinking about Hermione showing them the mention of Eileen in the newspaper.

''That's messed up,'' Ginny hummed contemplatively.

''Yeah,'' Harry said quietly. ''Like, I knew Snape loves my mum, but I thought he loves her more, you know, platonically,'' he added lamely.

''Harry,'' Ginny gave her boyfriend's hand another squeeze. ''If he doesn't want you in his life, it's his loss. Not that I'm surprised, Ron's right – he's a git.''

Harry bit his lip. Snape hadn't said directly he hadn't wanted Harry. It had been more of implied. Frankly, Harry hadn't given Snape much space to say anything. Sure, the git had refused to let Harry into his home, but maybe he would have said something if Harry hadn't lashed out at him. He exhaled slowly. ''Well, about my conversation with Snape... uh, I wouldn't really call it talking,'' he admitted embarrassedly.

''Would you like to talk with him?'' Ginny asked softly.

''I-I dunno,'' Harry deflated. ''I've got so many questions!''

''He doesn't have to be a part of your life if you don't want him to. You don't owe him that,'' she said firmly.

''It's not that...'' Harry looked down at his feet. Among all this turmoil he hadn't had the time to spare the thought of wanting or not wanting Snape in his life and the sudden appearance of this subject took him off guard. ''I just don't think he'd like to see me. I might have said a bit too much,'' he grimaced.

''Ah,'' Ginny sighed knowingly, probably thinking about the many outbursts Harry had had at the Potions Master. ''Well, he's already seen some of the worst of you-''

''Hey!'' Harry protested.

''The point is, he may be on talking terms with you again in some time... maybe few months,'' Ginny pointed out. ''If you want to, of course. But maybe, not for his sake but for your own, if you haven't already made up your mind, make the decision after you've talked to him. If he still refueses to speak to you, at least you'll know it's not you but him.''

Harry hummed in response. Few months sounded less than ideal, but maybe Ginny was right? Her reasoning sounded pretty convincing. She knew him well enough to know he wasn't going to rest until he received his answers, and he knew it too.

''Well,'' Harry clapped his hands against his thighs. ''I suppose we should get back downstairs.''

''Are you sure you are alright?'' Ginny eyed him worriedly. ''You have the right to be upset about... it. We can stay here a little bit longer,'' she suggested.

Harry got up from Ginny's bed. ''They're probably wondering where we've gone. Let's not give Ron and George any false ideas,'' he chuckled humourlessly.

---

Harry was decided he needed to reach out Snape again. However, he really didn't have the patience to wait several months to make sure Snape wasn't mad at him. Frankly, he didn't think he could ever be sure of that without talking to the man.

His initial anger had mostly burnt out, leaving longing for answers in its wake. And shame for the things Harry had told his... ugh, whatever Snape was to him. Truth be told, based on what Harry knew about the man, he didn't believe Snape would be capable of using a love potion on Lily. It had been an accusation that escaped Harry's mouth without his mind truly registering it. Harry wanted to believe that his mum had been tricked, at least then he would know what to think about it. But as much as Harry wanted to, he couldn't convince himself of Snape's deceit and that posed a picture in various shades of grey rather than in plain to understand black-and-white. Once again against his will he caught himself feeling sorry for Snape.

On the other hand, as much as he wanted his answers here and now, he wasn't that excited about the idea of seeing his former teacher so soon after the argument.

Harry spent entire Sunday and Monday wrestling with his thoughts. Was there even a point in going to Cokeworth if Snape was going to kick him out?

And then he was also sorry for James Potter, a man who had died for a child that hadn't even been his own to begin with. Harry wasn't even a Potter and he didn't know where it left him standing. His patronus hasn't changed and his love for the man he had until recently thought to be his dad hasn't wavered. Still, he couldn't stop from wondering if his non-biological dad had known the truth. If he had known – how had he reacted? Had he accepted Harry even though he wasn't his son? Would he have treated Harry worse if he had got a chance of seeing Harry grow up? Had his parents' marriage been ruined? Had he forgiven Lily? And if he hadn't known, how would he have reacted?

Ugh, sometimes being altruistic didn't pay off. He really should have kept the resurrection stone.

And what about the Potter family heirloom? Were the things his parents had left for him even his? Harry wasn't a Potter, after all. Which meant the invisibility cloak didn't belong to Harry but the whoever was James Potter's closest relative in the line of Ignotus Peverell, right?

Having cooled down a little about the discovery concerning his lineage, Harry noticed also some other minor inconvencies that had fled his attention.

For instance, what about the Potions? Not that Harry would miss the classes that much, but were they cancelled and Snape would kick him out if he came? Or maybe they weren't cancelled because Snape was Snape and had carried on teaching Harry despite the fact Harry had said the most outrageous things about the former spy, and would get mad if Harry skipped the classes? But then it would be awkward to bring the subject of... well... the genetic test having arrived for the classes. Which meant he should bring back the subject before Wednesday... shit.

On Tuesday he found himself under the pressure of time to make his decision. And while he tried to delay the moment as much as he could, after lunch he could no longer deny he was running out of time. But there was no right choice, was there?

Harry walked restlessly around the house for another hour or so and with burdened heart he had made the choice of which he wasn't exactly certain.

Firstly, he entered his bedroom and scanned his wardrobe for some nicer clothing. Then he brushed his hair, which action proved itself to be only partially effective as his hair refused to cooperate. Nevertheless, Harry tried to make his hair look tidy the best he could to the point it served more as a mean of delying meeting with Snape.

Harry glanced at the mirror in the bathroom and reluctantly admitted his hair wasn't going to look any better. He walked out in the street, not knowing what to expect, and Apparated.

This time Harry appeared by the Cokeworth's river, where it was less likely to accidentally bump into any muggle. Not that the chances of meeting anyone in this ghost town were high. His only companion on his short road to Spinner's End was anxiety gripping tightly on his stomach.

Finally he stopped in front of Snape's house' door. Harry took in a deep breath and raised his hand to press the doorbell. His hand hung in hesitation inches from the button. It wasn't too late yet, he could still retreat and Snape would be none the wiser of Harry's trip to Cokeworth. But being left alone with only scraps of the truth wouldn't do. On the other hand, maybe it was still to early to see the man?

With a lump in his throat he pressed the button. The doorbell on the other side of the door rang, but Harry heard no footsteps. Well, maybe it was a sign to walk away, he thought, turning around. Harry jumped, startled by the sudden creak of the door and with horror looked at the man clad in black. Snape looked positively sleep-deprived, his complexion even more unhealthy than usual and eyebags under his eyes. Even his hair appeared to be more greasy.

''Potter,'' Snape said coldly. It certainly wasn't a greeting, but it also wasn't a question why Harry had come.

Harry felt his throat go as dry as if he hadn't had a sip of water in an entire day. As usual, all pre-prepared speeches evaporated from his mind. He could almost hear his braincells rattling in his head. ''Uh... Don't close the door!'' he said when he saw resignation in Snape's eyes. ''I'm-I'm here to talk... please! Look, I'm sorry about the things I said... I know I said too much,'' he bit the inside of his cheek and turned his face away. He didn't want to see the look on Snape's face. ''I was just angry and I didn't really mean it. So can we talk?'' he found the courage to look at the man on the other side of the door.

''I don't know. Can you, Potter?'' Snape crossed his arms unwelcomingly.

''I'm not gonna yell this time! I promise!'' Harry begged.

Snape exhaled tiredly and for a moment Harry wondered if he was to going to deflate like a balloon. ''Fine, come in, Potter,'' Snape spat.

''Not Potter,'' Harry said crossing the threshold, earning himself a surprised glance from the older wizard. ''Harry. Just Harry.''

''Are you certain you want me to call you by your first name?'' Snape asked.

Harry shrugged. ''We both know the 'Potter' part is not true,'' he said quietly.

''Very well,'' Snape nodded. ''However, if it is any consolation, there is some Potter blood in your veins,'' he said leading Harry to the tiny living room.

''Really?'' Harry looked curiously at the older man. So it was true what Sirius had said – pure-blood families truly were all related.

''Yes, James Potter and I share a common great-grandfather in Felix Potter, father of Henry Potter after whom you were named, I presume,'' Snape explained plainly as he sat down in his armchair.

''Oh, wow,'' were the first words that came to Harry mind. ''Do you think he knew?'' the boy asked.

''I do not know. I have only learnt after my graduation... my mother has mentioned it at some point,'' Snape waved his hand dismissively. ''You should know that Henry and Seraphina were half-siblings. Seraphina wasn't a legitimate child and from what I've collected the half-siblings had never been close. She later married Oliver Prince and the rest is history. But I suppose this is not the reason you came here,'' Snape cleared his throat.

It turned out Harry wasn't the only child in the Potter family tree that was an outcome of an affair. This discovery didn't really make him feel any better.

''Yeah, well, uh...'' Harry insecurily scratched the back of his hand and suddenly he found the armrest of the couch he was sitting on very interesting.

After a moment of uncomfortable silence, Snape spoke. ''You are right that you have the right to know,'' he said matter-of-factly. ''However, it appears there are several misunderstandings. I have found out not so long ago. The majority of my years that I have been teaching you I have been ignorant to our... relation.''

Harry furrowed his eyebrows. ''How? Haven't you had any suspicions?'' Harry could hardly believe it. Out of all people he expected Snape to do his Maths correctly.

Snape closed his eyes, trying to compose himself. ''Will you let me finish?'' he demanded. ''I do not remember what has passed between your mother and me,'' he admitted a bit awkwardly. ''I had been just as surprised as you, if not more, when I had found out.''

''So you were obliviated?'' Harry asked.

Snape clenched his fists. ''For Merlin's sake! I do not remember!'' The older wizard breathed out, the conversation was clearly as difficult for him as for Harry.

Yes, it made sense that Snape didn't remember why he didn't remember, Harry decided. ''How did you find out?'' he tilted his head curiously.

Snape drummed his fingers on the armrest of his armchair. ''Do you remember when you came to return my memories?'' he asked at last, once he had set his mind how to tackle this subject.

''Yeah... was there something in your memories that made you remember it?'' Harry picked up.

Snape pinched the bridge of his nose, apparently let down by the question. ''And do you remember the potion you accidentally knocked over?'' Harry nodded insecurily. ''The potion that you broke was the Bloodline potion. You should know that the purpose of this potion is to determine how closely two people are related. For that purpose samples of blood coming from two different people have to be added to the potion. When you tried to pick up the pieces of the bottle, you contaminated the potion with your blood... I was reckless enough to repeat your mistake and I cut myself on the edges of shells, also adding my own blood to the potion.''

''So you spent entire year of teaching me knowing that-?!'' Harry struggled to get words through his throat.

''I thought we were supposed to talk, Po-Harry,'' Snape said coldly, but the slip of his tongue wasn't lost on Harry. Harry crossed his arms unhappily and Snape went on. ''Yes, as I said it was not right of me to keep you from that knowledge. However, I had done it for your sake, not for mine.''

''Yeah, right,'' Harry rolled his eyes.

''It took me substantial time to accept it not only as probable, but also as true. Remember that to my knowledge your mother and I parted our ways after the argument and I haven't seen her since our graduation. I expected that you would have also struggled to believe it, and if you had believed it, that this information would have taken a toll on your self-worth,'' Snape explained.

''Gee, thanks,'' Harry huffed. ''It's great to have a caring relative at last,'' he deadpanned.

Snape promptly pretended not to hear the last sentence. ''But now that muggle science has supported the evidence, none of us can reasonably deny what we both know. Speaking of which, it beggs a question how have you come into possession of the report?'' Snape raised an eyebrow.

Harry felt his face grow hotter. ''Uh, so I-'' he stumbled on his own words. How to say it in a way that wasn't going to make him look like an idiot? Oh, right, Snape already knew Harry was an idiot, he thought unhappily. ''Well, you know that saying about pure-blood families... um, I, uh, wanted to see how closely we were related?'' Harry cringed hearing what he had just said. At least he had mercifully skipped the part in which Snape had accidentally called him 'son'... Snape probably didn't remember that, anyway.

''Ah, I really should not be as surprised as I am,'' Snape shot Harry a disapproving, yet strangely amused glare.

Harry hid his face in his hands, wishing the ground opened up and swallowed him whole and regretting his decision to see Snape. ''Oh, shut up,'' he mumbled. He needed space to think... Snape had known the entire year. He had known when Harry had spoken in his favour in front of the Wizangamot. He had known when he had imposed denetions on Harry for having refused extra Potions. He had known when he had saved Harry's life. Suddenly his sympathy for the man grew stronger.

''Wallowing in could-have-beens is useless,'' Snape said, misinterpreting Harry's contemplative silence. ''Even if I had known from the beginning, I could not have taken you in. I could not have granted you the protection your wretched aunt's home had given you. I could not have looked after you and remained a spy at the same time. If Death Eaters had known, my credibility in their eyes would have been lost, which could have possibly changed the fate of the entire war.''

Harry nodded. Even though he hadn't thought about the matter brought forth by Snape, his subconscience must have considered the possibility without Harry even realising it as he found himself feeling a certain longing, not unlike the one he had felt when he had stared for hours at the mirror of Erised.

''Do you think that anyone knew?'' Harry asked.

''I have no idea,'' Snape admitted. ''But if anyone had, they surely made sure to keep their silence.''

Snape's answers didn't really explain much to Harry. They were probably the only two people in the entire world aware of the fact that James Potter wasn't Harry's dad, which meant that nobody knew why Lily had cheated on James or how Snape and Lily had got together. ''Haven't you ever wished to find out what happened between you and my mum?''

''I had more pressing matters to tend to,'' Snape replied sharply, the subject being clearly uneasy for him.

Then a thought struck Harry. He took out the invisibility cloak from his bag and extended his hand in his former teacher's direction. Snape furrowed his eyes questioningly. ''It's yours, you should take it.''

''Don't be ridiculous, Pot-Harry,'' the older wizard huffed.

''You are the oldest surviving descendant of Ignotus Peverell that I know of and pretty closely related to my da-James Potter. Which means the cloak is yours, Snape,'' Harry pointed out.

''Firstly, the cloak is yours,'' Snape raised his hand, telling Harry not to interrupt him. ''Let me ask instead: is Grimmauld Place your property?''

''Yes,'' Harry wrinkled his forehead.

''And is Kreacher your house elf?''

''Yeah, so what of it?'' Harry asked impatiently.

''Up until your godfather's demise, 12 Grimmauld Place was inherited solely by pure-blood wizards. Thanks to your godfather's will, you are its rightful owner, even though you are a half-blood. Same follows for the cloak, I presume. We have no reason to believe James Potter did not consider you his son, regardless if he was aware or not. In his last will he made you his only heir, which includes inheriting the invisibility cloak. Therefore, you are its owner. Moreover, I neither want nor need your cloak.'' Harry looked doubtfully at the cloak in his hand. It made sense – if he hadn't been the owner of the cloak, he wouldn't have become the Master of Death, but it still felt wrong. ''Keep it, Harry,'' Snape insisted. ''Secondly, it will not do for me to call you by your first name and for you to call me by my surname. You may call me Severus,'' Snape, uh Severus? offered. ''You don't have to if you don't wish to,'' he added, seeing doubt on Harry's face.

''It's not that-'' Harry said carefully. ''It's just, uh, odd. But thanks,'' he scratched the back of his neck.

Now it was Snape's-urm, Severus' turn to fidget with his fingers. ''I understand if you do not wish to maintain any sort of relation with me. For the majority of our acquaintance I have been most unpleasant to you. I will not hold any grudge against you if you choose not to see again after you leave today,'' he said in a business-like voice. At first Harry thought Sn-Severus was actually going to apologise, but apparently he gave the man too much credit. Former Potions Master's words reminded Harry of what Ginny had said to him the previous day and while Ginny's words had sounded encouraging and supportive, when they came from Snape they sounded like an excuse to cut his ties with Harry. Like he was trying to burden Harry with the decision so that his hands remained clean.

''Well, if you don't want it, I wouldn't want to burden you with my presence,'' said Harry and he felt disappointment forming in his chest. He didn't know why. Was he that needy? Snape-Severus-uh, whatever, had never been on his list of possible parental figures, yet being rejected by him still hurt.

The older wizard exhaled slowly. ''I did not ask you what I wanted. I asked you what you wanted,'' he said flatly. ''But I am not going to press you into making your choice right away if you are not ready yet.''

Harry didn't think he would ever be ready to make the decision and yet... hadn't he made the choice already? Weren't the disappointment and hurt and longing he had felt today the signs of his choice? ''I think I'd like to get to know you better,'' Harry admitted quietly. He had expected some sort of answer from the other man, but the former spy was unusually silent. Harry looked up to look at... at his biological father and there was again that expression on Slytherin's face... the one he had seen when Harry had defended Snape in the court, when Harry had defended young Slytherin student from Dennis and that Ravenclaw girl... He still couldn't decipher it. ''And what about the Potions?'' Harry changed the subject to break the uncomfortable silence.

''Should you wish to, we shall continue,'' the older wizard proposed.

''Yeah, that's, uh, a good idea,'' Harry said, not knowing what else his meetings with Snape would look like. What else were they going to do? Sit in the living room and sip tea? He looked out of the window and noticed it was slowly getting dark and he felt terribly tired by the conversation. He still had a million questions to ask, but hopefully there was going the time to ask them. ''I think I should be going. It's getting late,'' he said awkwardly as he was standing up from the couch.

Snape stood up as well. ''I'm not going to keep you here any longer if you don't want to. But if you wish to, I could brew another Bloodline potion for you to see the result,'' he offered unusually hastily. ''It takes 23 days for potion to mature.''

''Yeah, sure,'' Harry said taken off guard. ''Uh, so I guess I'll see you tomorrow?'' he asked taking few steps in the direction of the fireplace.

''Unless you want to change the day of our Potions classes. I imagine Wednesday may be suboptimal,'' Snape intertwined his fingers.

''No, it's OK...'' why he had a feeling Snape tried to prolong this meeting as much as he could? ''But maybe we could have Potions on Thursday instead of Wednesday next week?'' he asked.

''I see no problems with that,'' Snape said and when Harry was standing by the fireplace about to grab a fistful of Floo Powder, he called. ''Harry?''

''Yeah?'' Harry looked sceptically at the other man, who walked to one of his bookshelves and after a short search, took out a book.

''I think it will be beneficial if you read the chapter on the Bloodline potion before you see the result,'' Snape said handing the younger wizard the book. ''Just return the book in good condition,'' he spoke more firmly.

''Uh, yeah, thanks,'' Harry took the book. ''I will,'' he said quickly, without even thinking about it. ''See you tomorrow, I guess?''

''See you tomorrow, Harry,'' softness of Snape's voice startled Harry.

Harry took a fistful of Floo Powder and threw it saying '12 Grimmauld Place', and his mind was a concoction of anticipation and anxiety.

Chapter Text

Severus kept looking at the fireplace for few more seconds after Potte-Harry's exit, finding it hard at first to convince himself the conversation had in the fact taken place. He had suspected that there was a possibility of... of the boy coming back for his answers, but he had deemed the possibility reasonably low. Certainly he had not expected for the Gryffindor to come knocking on his door so soon.

Having scorned himself for standing in the middle of the living room so uselessly, he took a step towards the bookcase concealing the staircase, but an object in the corner of his vision drew his attention. He looked at the couch and at the invisibility cloak on it. Severus shook his head tiredly and opened the hidden passageway.

Having reached his laboratory, he took a cauldron from a short cabinet and put it on the desk. Then he walked to the taller cabinet and began collecting ingredients. The sooner he started brewing the Bloodline potion, the better. Maybe he would manage to finish it before the boy changed his mind.

Harry – Severus still felt uneasy thinking of the boy by his name, even though he had called him by it earlier that day, must have been truly desperate for any parental figure in his life to have decided he had wanted to get to know Severus better, as he had put it. But that observation was not groundbreaking in a tiniest – the boy had assessed Black, out of all people, a worthy parental figure, which was speaking volumes about the Gryffindor.

Severus knew he had never been supposed to be a father, but he would have put Black on the list of people who should be tasked with raising a child even lower than himself. He had not met such a careless and irresponsible person in his life, the closest person being Lupin forgetful about his medicine while surrounded by literal children.

The man tsked at the memory of the Marauders as he dug through his collection of bottles. Two of them had had children, but never got a chance to see their children grow. Inspite of his deepmost disdain for James Potter, he was well aware that awful, spoiled, arrogant brat had been a much better father in the short time he had got to play that role than Severus could have ever been. The Slytherin did not know diddly about being a father, especially a wixen one, having never seen to eye with his muggle father. Even though he had grown up in the Spinner's End, he knew Thobias Snape had not been a representative of a stereotypical muggle father – the truth was the majority of muggle children appeared to have more functional relationships with their fathers.

Severus was even more clueless about wizarding fatherhood. Maybe he could try to emulate some of what he had seen Lucius and Arthur doing, but he did not know how he could make those two styles of parenting work simultaneously. Unfortunately, reaching out the only two couples of parents he had been on friendly terms years ago to ask for an advice was not an option, due to their rather obvious and justified hatred for him.

He also doubted there were any publications that would help him navigate through this situation. Naturally, Flourish and Blotts offered a fine collection of books of any sort, including parenting guides concerning raising children and communicating with teenagers, but Severus would not expect a book on the subject of communicating with teenagers having skipped the 'raising a child' phase.

Fool, Severus thought, chopping mosaic flower.

Who had ever mentioned parenting? Potter, Harry, he corrected himself, was an adult wizard – he did not need any parenting. Nevertheless, the boy had decided to stick around Severus a little bit longer and the older wizard was determined to offer the boy his support the best he could. But how did one show his child, who had all the reason to hate him, he came with good intentions? How not to scare the boy away?

Severus groaned, quietly wishing he had someone to discuss his doubts with. However, he could not tell anyone – the secret was not his to speak about, and it would be unfair to Harry.

In those wishes for an advice his mind drifted towards Minerva. He really should get back to her, having refused a meeting on Saturday. Knowing the old witch, she was probably getting concerned about him, not that any of them would ever admit it.

The former Potions Master loathed how anxiously he was observing his fireplace. The boy... Harry had a tendency to arrive late. However, there was a non-zero chance of the boy having changed his mind overnight. Annoyed by the way he was twitching his fingers, Severus clipped his hands behind his back, but he still felt the irksome tenseness of his jaw.

Finally, Harry appeared in the fireplace, accompanied by a grey cloud of dust.

''Sorry for being late,'' the boy coughed, waving his hand in an attempt of chasing away the dust. ''I just was-''

''Looking for this?'' Severus raised his eyebrow, having produced seemingly out of thin air the darned cloak and presented it to the child.

Pot-Harry's face grew a bit redder. ''Uhm, yes, thanks,'' he cleared his throat and took the cloak.

''Don't forget to take it with you this time,'' Severus said flatly, watching the boy put the cloak into his bag. It truly seemed that the boy never parted his ways with the cloak.

''Uh, yeah, I'll try,'' the boy looked at his feet. ''Uh, can I ask you a question?'' he raised his gaze at Severus.

''Go ahead,'' the man nodded, having fully expected for... Harry to flood him with questions. Part of him desired to point about that by having asked the question the boy had already asked a question, thus making his question a waste of breath.

''When is your birthday?''

Severus blinked at the boy. Out of all possible questions, he did not foresee this one. ''9^th of January.'' Did the boy truly have to ask that question right now? Severus thought of what he was keeping in his former room at the moment. Maybe it was his cue to present it to the boy, but then, knowing Potter, Harry that is, he would not be able to focus on Potions.

The boy furrowed his eyebrows. ''So you are 39?''

''Yes,'' Severus replied a bit drily, congratulating himself on refraining from mock-complimenting Harry's Maths skills.

''Are your parents dead?'' the Gryffindor asked cautiously.

''And can you see them here?'' Severus asked impatiently.

''Right,'' the boy said, biting inside of his cheek.

''If you do not have any more questions, I believe we should move to the laboratory. Veritavisus is waiting.'' The boy deflated at Severus' words, but followed the older wizard upstairs. ''I would greatly appreciate it if you refrained from setting my house on fire this time,'' the man added with a smirk.

''I didn't set your house on fire!'' the boy protested. ''It was only cauldron that burst in flames,'' he huffed.

''Yes, and any uncontrolled fire is considered a hazard,'' Severus pointed out silkily.

Once the two wizards entered the laboratory, the older one said: ''You will start Veritavisus anew. Do you have your notebook with you?''

''Yes,'' the boy sighed.

''Then open it at the Veritavisus recipe.''

Harry unhappily followed the order and started collecting ingredients for the potion. Severus observed the child... his child pouting at the task and he wondered if it was supposed to go like this. Maybe he should drop teaching the boy Potions altogether? The child was going to run away soon enough if Severus kept tiring him with the subject. On the other hand, no one had forced Harry to continue the classes, and Merlin knew he really needed them for his entrance exam.

''Harry?'' Severus called as he watched the boy stir the potion.

''Yeah?''

''Could you remind me what I have told you about stirring Veritavisus after adding unicorn hair?'' Severus asked expectantly as he crossed his arms.

''Uh, that I should stir... um, counterclockwise?'' the boy wrinkled his nose.

''No, you should stir counterclockwise only when you add tincture of Demiguise. Before that the stirring pattern resembles the infinity sign,'' Severus explained matter-of-factly.

''Oh, yeah, right. Sorry,'' Harry looked away. Severus noticed he tended to do that a lot when he was embarrassed.

The boy corrected his stirring pattern, but Severus knew it was already too late for that potion. However, he was not going to stop Harry from working on it. One of the abilities that a potion-maker should possess was the ability to decide when to start anew, due to a potion being unsalvageable.

Next Harry added tincture of Demiguise and changed his stirring pattern accordingly. The potion turned navy-blue, while at this point it should be azure, but the boy remained none the wiser, it seemed.

Having finished the final step of the recipe, Harry asked: ''Is the potion ready now? Will it work if I drink it?''

Severus felt his stomach shrink at the idea of this poor attempt at Veritavisus being drunk by the foolish boy in front of him. ''Oh, if what you mean by working is making the drinker lose their sight, then you may drink the potion,'' he said harshly.

Harry looked warily at the potion in the cauldron. ''Is it that bad?''

''Take your guess, Harry,'' Severus said silkily. Did the boy have to ask so many useless questions?

''Sorry, I'm awful at Potions, I can't help it!'' the boy threw his hands slightly agitated.

Severus exhaled slowly. ''Even if you had brewed the potion correctly, it would not have been ready until the next week.'' The look on the boy's face suggested that maybe it would be a good idea to give this particular potion a rest. The probability of it appearing as an exam task was minuscule, anyway. ''I believe we should return to Veritavisus at later date. It is possible that I have prepared too difficult exercises for you,'' Severus admitted. ''I will try to come up with something more fitting your skill set for our next classes.''

''Like a Forgetfulness potion?'' Harry said humourlessly.

The boy was truly difficult to reason with, Severus groaned inwardly, trying not to give away how tiring raising the boy's spirits was. ''Listen, Harry, you may not be a Potions champion, but you have achieved an 'E' in your Potions N.E.W.T. Maybe you are not as hopeless as you think, have you considered it?'' The boy remained silent. ''Alright, let's call it a day,'' Severus said and the boy nodded.

They walked downstairs through the hidden corridor.

''I know it is already past your birthday, but I hope you are not going to mind a late gift?'' Severus said opening the secret door to the living room.

''Oh?'' Harry narrowed his eyes curiously at the older wizard. Thankfully he stopped moping about Potions.

''Come with me,'' Severus waved at Harry and led them to the former spy's childhood bedroom.

The Gryffindor insecurily walked into the room, probably thinking about Severus' having forbidden him from entering it, and then his face lit up at the sight of a cage with a big snowy owl inside. He most likely didn't even notice how ascetic the room looked with only a bed and a small wardrobe.

''Is it...?'' Harry asked in a voice full of wonder.

''I know how much you cared for your owl. I would not be surprised if this one was related to your first one,'' Severus cleared his throat awkwardly. He didn't have much experience in gifting.

''May I?'' the boy looked at the older wizard and having received a permission, he opened up the cage.

The owl watched Harry's hand distrustfully and then pecked it. The boy retreated his hand, waving it in an attempt to diminish pain. ''I think I didn't make a good first impression,'' he joked.

''Do you have any ideas for the name?''

''Hmm...'' the boy looked at the owl. ''Hildegard? Do you like it, girl?'' he asked the bird.

The owl tilted its head watching its new owner curiously and hooted.

''I think it means yes,'' the boy smiled. ''I don't know what to say...'' he looked at Severus. ''Are you sure I can keep her?''

''Yes, she's yours, Harry.''

''Thank you, Severus. I-'' the boy's voice wavered and he looked away. It was quite obvious he was uncomfortable with using Severus' first name.

Severus did not know what to say, either. He did not expect for Harry's reaction to leave him at loss of words. ''Have you...'' he hesitated for a second as he opted for a change of subject. ''Told anyone?''

Harry briefly glanced at him. ''Only Ginny. Do you think I shouldn't?'' he asked after a moment.

Merlin, this child. ''No, I think you have loyal, trustworthy friends and you should look after your relationship with them.''

''Oh,'' the boy said, clearly not having anticipated that answer.

''If you want my opinion, you ought to tell your friends. I have watched you brats for years and I know they value you for who you are. They will not think any less of you because of your relation to me,'' Severus said, thinking how easily one could lose their dearest friends. Friendships thrived on honesty and he could not let this child lose his own. ''You are an owner of the information as much as I am now. I will not hold you from telling anyone. However, I would advice a certain degree of discretion – you must be aware there are people who would love to share the story with the world at your expense. And should you ever have a ludicrous idea of sharing the information with your wretched aunt, I expect you to share the memory with me,'' he added with a sly smirk.

The boy snorted thinking about his aunt's reaction to the news. ''You've got it.''

''And speaking of Ms. Weasley, how are things going between you two?'' Severus asked casually.

Harry furrowed his eyebrows at the older wizard. ''Good, why asking?'' he asked warily.

''I was simply curious,'' Severus explained. What else should he say? 'That's what parents ask their children'?

''Did you know Skeeter is an animagus?'' the boy asked out of nowhere. ''She can turn into a beetle. That's how she gathers her information.''

That was new, Severus had to admit, though it made sense. ''Then I will make sure not to let any beetles in.''

---

The unexpected acquisition of Hildegard forced Harry to do some shopping. Luckily, the Grimmauld Place had an owlery and Harry had some owl snacks stashed for Piggy, but it wasn't enough to keep an owl at home.

Harry got lost in his thoughts while stroking the bird's feathers. Hildegard didn't protest – it appeared that she finally accepted Harry as her owner after few hours spent together.

He absolutely did not anticipate for Sn-Severus to get him a present. Certainly not as magnificent as this owl. Hildegard felt like an apology for Hedwig, in a way. Well, she certainly was similar to Hedwig. Harry didn't know who had been responsible for his first owl's death. He doubted it had been Severus. On the other hand, Severus had been there and had even accidentally cut off George's ear.

It's been over two years since the so-called battle of seven Potters, but to Harry it felt like it had happened in another lifetime. It was so easy to forget the former spy had taken part in any of this. The Slytherin didn't belong to Death Eaters – they were a bunch of cruel people and Severus... wasn't like that. Harry could not explain it, but having learnt the truth behind Severus' involvement in the war, he was convinced Severus was a good person who had made some terrible choices. He knew many people would disagree with him, but Harry's conviction was not caused by the discovery regarding his lineage. He had held that belief even before learning Severus was his father...

Harry suddenly burst in laughter, thinking how absurd all of it was. He recalled having thought that by 'that awful boy' aunt Petunia had meant his dad and that the Half-Prince' book had belonged to his dad. He snorted realising he had been both right and wrong about those things, having been misled about his dad's identity.

Hildegard looked at her new owner as if he had lost his mind.

''It's alright,'' Harry said petting her. ''I just recalled something funny.'' The owl looked at him as if she wanted to ask what had been so funny. ''Hey, how you'd you feel about a job? Would you like to meet my friends?''

The owl tilted her head and hooted in response. Having taken it for an affirmation, Harry grabbed a piece of parchment and a quill.

''I'm glad you finally bought yourself an owl, mate. I don't like the idea of Piggy flying to Snape,'' Ron said.

Harry bit his lip. Telling his friends about his discovery concerning Severus had seemed much easier the previous day, when he day written to his friends. Now when it came to putting theory into practice, it did not appear so easy. He glaced at Ginny and the look in her eyes told him she knew why he had invited them.

He took a crisp from a bowl and munched on it, trying to delay the moment he shared his secret with his friends. Other teenagers followed the suit, filling the living room with the sound of crunching.

''Well, truth be told, I got Hildegard from, uh,'' Harry hesitated, not knowing how to call his biological father. Snape? Severus? Both seemed wrong for different reasons. ''Severus,'' he finally made his choice.

''Oh, that's really nice of him,'' Ginny smiled with the smile of a person who knew a secret.

''Really? I thought you bought her yourself. She's so similar to Hedwig,'' Hermione noted, reaching for another crisp.

''Yeah, well-'' Harry sighed, but Ron interrupted him.

''Waitwaitwait! Two things,'' Ron said firmly. ''First of all, he is 'Severus' now?!''

''Uh, yeah, I was going to explain that in a minute...'' Harry scratched the back of his neck. ''Let's just say we found out we have a lot in common.''

''Secondly, why would he buy you an owl? Is it a trap?'' Ron narrowed his eyes suspiciously.

Harry rolled his eyes. ''No, it's not a trap. It's a birthday gift.''

''Since when Snape buys birthday gifts?!''

Hermione ran her hand down her face. ''Ron, calm down. I think we should appreciate the fact that Snape wants to be nice to Harry.''

Harry looked at Ginny, begging for help. He didn't know how to break it to his friends. Ron was rather unhelpful.

Ginny squeezed his hand supportively. ''I think Harry wants to tell us something,'' she said looking him in his eyes and encouraging him to go on.

Harry opened up his mouth to speak, but Ron beat him to it. ''Are you two getting engaged?!''

Ginny and Harry looked at each other, both with incredulous looks on their faces.

''No!'' Harry raised his eyebrows. ''I mean... I hope we will one day...'' he added quickly.

''Don't tell me Ginny is pregnant!'' Ron angrily waved his finger at Harry, his face turning red now. The red-haired girl hid her face in her hands, dying from embarrassment.

Hermione shoved her boyfriend. ''Will you let Harry finish instead of jumping onto conclusions?''

''No, Ginny's not pregnant!'' Harry huffed as his shoulders grew tense.

''Thanks Merlin!'' Ron relaxed his back against the couch.

''Ugh,'' Harry threw his arms in irritation. ''Snape's my father.''

The only thing that interrupted the silence that had fallen was ticking of grandfather clock.

''What?'' Ron asked after few moments, most likely convinced he had misheard.

''That's... wow.'' Even Hermione found herself at the loss of words.

''Yeah,'' Harry said quietly, focusing his sight on the bowl on the table.

''Come on, mate! Today's not April Fools, it's not funny,'' Ron tried to laugh it off, but his chuckle came out rather dry.

''He's not joking,'' said Ginny.

Ron blinked at his sister. ''You... knew?'' he asked in a voice laced with a feeling of betrayal.

''Oh, Harry... That must be hard for you... When did you find out?'' Hermione asked softly.

''A week ago,'' Harry still didn't find the strength to look at his friends.

Ron waved his hand. ''Snape's messing with your brain!''

Harry glanced at the red-head boy. ''He's not. I... found out on my own.''

Hermione furrowed her eyebrows. ''How did you find out? Um, I don't want to come out as insensitive, but it's not something people find out everyday.'' Of course it had to be her who asked that question.

''Did your mum leave a letter or something? Maybe it was forged?'' Ron suggested.

Harry huffed, his shoulders sinking. ''No, I, uh... I took a DNA test, alright? Laugh at me all you want!'' he crossed his arms offended he was forced to speak of his stupidity once again.

Cogs turning in Ron's head were almost audible. ''What deer have to do with it? Is it because of your patronus?''

Harry blinked stupefied at his friend, trying to find a connection between his confession and whatever Ron was talking about, but apparently Ron's train of thought did not stop at Harry's station.

''But that would not make much sense, because your patronus is the same as your dad's – I mean, James, and Snape's patronus is the same as your mum's. I mean, all of them are deer, but of different sexes,'' Ron went on with his musings, ignorant to Harry's confusion. ''Besides, my parents' patronuses are different than mine. Ginny's patronus is different too, so I don't know what it has to do with parents.''

''Oh my God, Ron! D-N-A, not deer-and, uh, I don't even know what's your last word,'' Hermione interrupted him impatiently.

''What's that?'' Ron wrinkled his nose. His sister looked equally interested by this new word.

''It's like, you know, genes. All leaving creatures have it,'' Hermione explained.

''So... it's not about deer?'' Ron asked warily.

''No! I mean, deer have DNA too... Genes determine what kind of creature you are, how you look, maybe even your behaviour to some extend. I would not be surprised if there were genes for magical abilities,'' Hermione added after a moment.

Harry sat there, staring into a wall and thinking how they got from Severus being his dad to magical genes. This conversation made no sense.

''It's a bit sad to think Snape had to go through his duties as a spy knowing he is your dad,'' Ginny said.

Harry at first looked at his girlfriend a bit surprised. Oh, Ginny didn't know Severus hadn't been aware of it at that time, he recalled. ''Actually... he found out after the war,'' Harry grimaced as the he noticed the ordeal appeared more and more absurd each time he talked about it. ''When I visited him to give him back his memories, more precisely.''

''Oh,'' Hermione inhaled loudly as if she had made a groundbreaking discovery.

''Oh?'' Ron looked at his girlfriend questioningly.

Hermione blushed and cleared her throat. ''I just was thinking... Harry, hasn't Snape told you he was quitting teaching?''

Harry scratched his head, trying to decide whether Hermione was talking about the first time Severus had said that or the second time. ''Yeah?'' he said, still not sure what the bookworm meant.

''And he fooled Harry,'' Ron huffed and reached for crisps.

''About that...'' Hermione tapped her lip, lost in thoughts. ''What if he didn't fool Harry? Maybe he wanted to get closer to him?''

''Don't be ridiculous,'' Ron scoffed.

''Think about it – the only way of getting closer to Harry available to him was teaching him,'' Hermione suggested.

''Yeah, and assigning him detentions,'' Ron ridiculed.

''Yes! How else would he spend time with Harry?''

The thought had crossed Harry's mind, but he had rejected it as nonsensical. But now when Hermione reasoned out loud, it made more sense than in Harry's head. Hermione's logic did not sound as something that Harry's mind would come up with, subconsciously looking for any sort of trustworthy relative.

''So you're gonna call him 'dad' now?'' Ron refused to leave Harry any space for emotional insight.

''No!'' Harry furrowed his nose, taken aback by the suggestion. The idea seemed so wrong at many levels. ''I've told you, we're on the first name basis.'' That part wasn't fully true either as Harry tried to avoid calling Sna-Severus in any way as much as he could. It just felt too odd.

''Still weird,'' Ron made a face.

''I know,'' Harry sighed tiredly.

''So you're still gonna see him?'' Ron still struggled to accept this new reality. Harry didn't blame him for that – he struggled too.

''Yeah,'' Harry shrugged. 'He's my family,' got stuck in his throat. ''But could you keep it to yourself for now?''

''We are always there for you, Harry,'' Hermione assured.

''Sure, mate! If that git was my father, I would want to keep it secret too,'' Ron whispered the last sentence.

''Ron!'' both girls shouted.