The rest of the train ride to Hogwarts passed without incident. Ron beat Hermione and Harry at Wizard´s chess while Ginny watched, the twins sat in a corner, speaking in hushed voices, and Mr. and Mrs. Weasley and McGonagall talked about the twins. It would have been an almost playful scene had it not been for the air of anxiety that clouded all their consciences.

Finally, the train arrived at Hogsmead Station. Harry noticed that the platform here was also flooded with Aurors. However, Harry also noticed that they were not Ministry Aurors: instead their robes bore the insignia of the Order of the Phoenix. He sighed. This meant that Fudge had still not accepted the fact that Voldemort had returned. How long would it take him to realize the inevitable? What was he waiting for?

"Harry!" He was jolted out of his reverie by Ron´s voice. "Come on, Harry! Let´s get to the carriages."

There were four carriages waiting at the station: two for Harry, Hermione, McGonagall, and the Weasleys, and two more for the Aurors selected to accompany them. McGonagall walked up to Harry, then, and put a hand on his shoulder. She geared him towards the Aurors standing near their transportation, gesturing for the others to follow.

"Harry," she began, turning to look at him. "I would like for you to meet some of the Aurors that will be staying at Hogwarts this year."

`Aurors staying at Hogwarts?´ he thought. `Why? Is it really that bad?´

Harry noticed that McGonagall was gesturing to a rather short, stout, and surprisingly young, man standing in the middle of the group. He had his hands in his robe pockets (and here is where I utilize my creative skills in assuming that robes have pockets...) and was smiling warmly at Harry.

"This is Jonathan Belfrey," McGonagall had continued. "He will be one of the Aurors staying in Gryffindor Tower for the year. I expect that you all will get along splendidly and not cause any problems." She looked around to glare at Fred and George as she said the last part.

Belfrey stuck out his hand, and Harry shook it.

"Very pleased to meet you, Harry. I´ve heard a lot of good things about you. Indeed, I´ve heard many good things about the whole group of Gryffindors this year." Harry smiled slightly at the Auror´s comment.

Belfrey seemed to want to say more, but McGonagall had already moved on. She was now introducing to him a tall, stern-looking woman who resembled a 30-year-old McGonagall.

"Good evening, Mr. Potter. My name is Silvia Holthouse, and I will also be staying in Gryffindor." She then moved to shake hands with Ginny, who blushed brightly, and Hermione, who looked as if she had found a new friend.

McGonagall then introduced the other Aurors in turn: Samson Withers and Gloria Malbec would be staying in Ravenclaw, Dustin and Emily Bush, a young brother/sister team would be staying in Hufflepuff, and Portia Wilkinson and Angus Davenport would be staying in Slytherin. She also mentioned briefly that all the Aurors had been chosen for those houses because that was where they had stayed in their Hogwarts years, except for Angus Davenport, who had attended O´Haels Academy in Ireland. Harry understood this to mean that not many Slytherins became Aurors. How typical.

McGonagall then hustled the small crowd into the waiting carriages, and before long, they had pulled up in front of the Hogwarts castle. Harry stepped out of the carriage and felt himself being led inside. In the entrance hall, the group, accompanied by several of the Aurors, stopped.

"Mr. Belfrey," McGonagall commanded to the young man, " If you would kindly see the Weasley family and Miss Granger to Gryffindor Tower. They will all be spending the night there tonight."

She then turned to Mrs. Weasley, who was looking at Harry apprehensively.

"I assure you, Mr. Potter will be perfectly safe with me. Dumbledore wishes to speak with him privately about the circumstances which have brought him here. I will take him straight to the Headmaster´s office."

"All right, then," she resigned.

"See you in a bit, Harry," Ron yelled to his friend, before disappearing around a corner.

McGonagall and Harry were left alone in the entrance hall. He looked expectantly up at his teacher, who seemed to hesitate in taking him to see Dumbledore. It was almost as if she were afraid to have Harry hear what Dumbledore wanted to say. Harry had only seen such unguarded emotion in his stern teacher once before, and that had been when Voldemort murdered Cedric. Seeing it again sent a sudden pang of fear through him.

Apparently not noticing her student´s eyes upon her, Minerva McGonagall shook her head roughly and, grasping Harry´s shoulder, started towards Dumbledore´s office.

* * * * *

Severus Snape had spent nearly the entire day in Dumbledore´s office talking about the potion from Harry´s dream and its connection with what had happened in Willingston that morning. Severus, at first, had been convinced that Harry´s dream had been about the attack on Willingston, and that he would be too late to come up with an antidote for whatever the potion did. But when Dumbledore told him the details of the attack, he knew that, bad as the attack on Willingston had been, it had not been the same attack as the one in Harry´s dream: there was still a chance to save those people. However, even given that chance, they were still no closer to a solution than before. Severus had not yet had a chance to brew the potion, as he hadn´t had time to purchase the cyanide. He assured Dumbledore (and himself) that, once the potion was brewed, he would be able to figure out its purpose and thus come up with an antidote. The Headmaster had simply smiled one of his twinkling smiles and offered him a crumpet.

But for the last hour Severus had been very on-edge. In fact, he was so distracted that Dumbledore had easily been able to beat him at chess, a victory he usually had to work for. Severus had tried to feign calmness, but his friend easily saw through the disguise. Finally, he gave up.

"Alright, Albus. You win. I can´t fool you," he resigned. Dumbledore looked up from their third game of chess that hour and sighed.

"Severus..." he began. He was almost at a loss for words. Severus was, at best, a hard man to console, even if the problem was something trivial. But for this...

"Severus...I understand. I don´t want to have to tell Harry this either. It´ll be hard for him to take, but he can do it. So can you."

The Potions Master shook his head harshly and shot out of his chair to start pacing the room. That wasn´t it. Not at all. Well...he was worried about how Harry would take the news when he received it. But what worried him more was the fact that he would have to hear part of the news from one of the people he hated (well, thought he hated) more than anything else in the world. He had wanted to find a way for "Tiros" to tell him the truth. A letter was so impersonal, but it would have worked. He had even gone so far as to suggest to Albus that he pick a random muggle off the street and take Polyjuice to look like him. That way, "Tiros" could tell Harry in person, and Harry wouldn´t be in danger of recognizing him as someone else. Albus had agreed that it would be best for Harry to hear the news from someone who cared about him. Therefore, he had said, Severus was perfect for the job. He scowled. He wished he could drop his facade long enough for Harry to hear the news from an amiable person. But Severus had been playing "bitter Potions Master" for so long that he feared he no longer had the ability to be amiable. Besides, once Harry heard the news, he would be so shocked that it wouldn´t matter who told it to him. The distressed man continued to pace.

"You´re wearing out my carpet, Severus."

"Fuck the carpet." And he knew very well, as soon as he said it, that Albus didn´t deserve that. He was only trying to cheer Severus up, in his own quirky sort of way. But he didn´t care. Albus had no idea what he was feeling and had no right to tell him how to handle it. He sat back down on the chair as roughly as he possibly could and scowled. He had to face the fact that, as soon as Harry heard what he had to say, he would only hate Severus more. But by telling the boy himself, Harry at least couldn´t call him a coward. It was something. Not much. Not only would he have to endure Harry´s outburst, whatever it would turn out to be, but he knew that Harry would tell Tiros everything later. Then he could really find out what sort of pain he had caused the boy. What would Potions class be like then? He could already tell it would be a long year. If only there was some way that his facade could be a little less harsh toward Harry this term...Perhaps...he had a thought. If Albus let him do it, (fat chance though), then it would at least be a very small something...

"Headmaster," he began respectfully, unconsciously attempting to make-up for his previous comment, "I think we should schedule Gryffindor and Hufflepuff to have Potions together, instead of Gryffindor and Slytherin."

His old friend smiled rather fiendishly.

"More tea, Severus?"

He shook his head hard. "No, Albus, thank you..."

"Cookies, then?"

"No..." He was definitely avoiding something.

"How about a small sandwich?"

"Albus, please..."

The old man sighed, pulled off his spectacles and pinched the bridge of his nose. His eyes still closed, he spoke.

"Severus, you know very well why I can´t do that, especially now."

"Maybe I do know. But explain it again, Albus, because I think it´s nonsense."

"If the Slytherins fail to see your...hatred...of the Gryffindors, you risk compromising your status with Voldemort. If they no longer share Potions, when will they have the opportunity to see this?"

"They don´t need to, Albus. Not all Slytherins are bad."

"I realize that, child. I am staring right at one of the best wizards of all time, after all."

When Severus failed to react to the compliment, Albus sighed and, removing his glasses once again, rubbed his eyes so hard that he saw bright spots floating in his field of vision.

"Severus...most Death Eaters and their children come from Slytherin. You know that. I cannot have those children see any weakness in your resolve. Draco Malfoy especially. His father could be a real danger to you and to all of these children if you´re not careful."

"Draco Malfoy is NOT a Death Eater," he spat in return. "He is disgusted with his father and his father´s kind."

"Perhaps," the Headmaster mused. "But he is afraid enough of them that he will turn you in if he is forced to."

"Anyone will do anything if they are forced to...The Slytherins need help, Albus. You can´t keep treating them as if they are already guilty."

When Albus said nothing, and turned to look at a portrait of Aldarin the Weird, Severus became strangely enraged.

"Fine!" he spat. "You don´t give a damn about Slytherin House? Fine! That is obvious. All the reasoning in the world can´t change you. But what about Harry? He is one of your precious Gryffindors after all. Don´t you give a damn about him? The news he is about to hear will be hard on him, Headmaster. He will need support. A teacher like me is most definitely *not* what he needs. If I could just get him away from those monstrous Slytherins then maybe I could still help him. That is, if he doesn´t kill me first, Headmaster, when he hears what I did."

Severus had begun to shake violently by the end of his tirade. Albus had walked over quietly to his side and put his hand on the younger man´s arm, and was trying, in vain, to console him.

"Don`t touch me!" Deep down, he knew he was being unfair, at best, to the old man. But he was too blinded by rage to realize that. All he knew was that he had to get away before he really lost his control. He shook off Dumbledore´s hand, stormed out of the office, and slammed the door hard enough to make it tremble in his wake. His old friend stayed behind, eyes glistening, too flabbergasted to move.

* * * * *

Harry followed McGonagall hesitantly into Dumbledore´s office. He looked at the Headmaster who, by most accounts, appeared to be smiling. But Harry saw something else there. Dumbledore was upset about something, and was doing his best to hide it. Harry found himself feeling vaguely surprised that the Headmaster could be that depressed, but he chided himself for being that silly. Of course, Dumbledore could be that upset. He was human, after all. But what in the world could have happened? He hadn´t even looked that upset when Cedric died... but Harry knew better than to ask. Instead, he sat down in the chair next to the one McGonagall had taken and returned the Headmaster´s anxious smile.

"Good evening, Harry. Since you´re here, I´ll have Dobby summon the last member of our meeting this evening."

Harry saw the Hogwarts Headmaster bend over to the House elf who had magically appeared in the room. He was relieved to see the bat-like creature leave looking only slightly apprehensive. Afterwards, Dumbledore turned back to Harry.

"Well, I trust you had a good summer then Harry?"

He nodded.

"You got some nice gifts, I presume?"

Harry nodded again, getting more nervous as time went on. Why did Dumbledore always have to stall? Couldn´t he just get on with it for once?

"I promise, we will get right to it as soon as Professor Snape arrives, Harry."

He gulped loudly, though not for the reason that most would guess. Snape was bad enough, of course, but Harry sincerely hoped that Dumbledore had not just read his thoughts.

* * * * *

Severus swept to his dungeons in an almost mechanical manner. Several times he had nearly bumped into a suit of armor that just happened to be making its way across a corridor. But when he reached his office, he sank into his desk chair and buried his head in his hands, trying in vain to think about nothing at all.

When he finally recovered enough to realize what had happened, the first thought that flooded his head was how deeply he must have hurt Albus. He knew the man hadn´t meant anything bad. He was right about keeping up the facade, even though it could hurt Harry more. And with Slytherin´s reputation, it was hard for someone not of that house to see it in anything but a suspicious light. He just didn´t know...

"Professor Snape, sir?" said a high-pitched, squeaky voice that had just entered the room.

Severus started and looked up, then down to the floor, instantly calming when he realized who it was.

"What is it, Dobby?"

"Harry Potter has just arrived, sir. Headmaster Dumbledore be wanting you to come back up, sir."

"Thank you, Dobby," he sighed in return, but felt somewhat relieved. At least Albus wasn´t upset enough to forget about him.

"You´re most welcome, sir!"

Dobby`s eyes began to threaten tears of happiness, before he disappeared from the room with a "pop". Severus sighed as he stood up and braced himself. So, it was time at last for the skeletons to come toppling out of the closet.

* * * * *

Harry watched the minute hand on the muggle clock on the wall tick past the minutes. The eternity for which they had been sitting there had in actuality lasted only about five minutes. Harry sighed quietly. He was tired. He wanted to see his friends, and spend a normal evening with the Weasley´s. But he also knew that he had to hear whatever it was that Dumbledore wanted to tell him. The suspense was getting worse and worse, and Harry wished that the rabid butterflies in his stomach would calm down.

All of a sudden, the door flew open with a bang as an irate-looking Potions Master swooped into the room. Harry turned around to see not a scowl on his face, but a look of...what was that...sympathy (?) shot at the Headmaster. But Harry must have been mistaken, because when he turned around to see Dumbledore´s reaction, the pain in the man´s eyes seemed to grow.

Snape sat down sulkily in a third chair and turned away from the others. Dumbledore looked at him and frowned. His gaze lingered a moment longer, before he cleared his throat and spoke to Harry.

"Harry, I know you must be wondering why you had to leave the Dursleys..."

"Not that I regret it much, Professor Dumbledore, but yes..."

Albus smiled briefly, and let out a long sigh.

"Alright then, Harry, I suppose I´d better explain from the beginning." But there was a long pause before the man actually started to speak again. "Well...Harry...when you were a baby, just after your parents were killed...there was much debate over what to do with you."

Dumbledore saw Harry look slightly confused. That was true...the version of events Harry had heard always made it seem like he was given to the Dursleys rather automatically.

"Few of us wanted to give you to the Dursleys, Harry. In fact, at first most of us preferred to put you in the care of Sirius Black. But you understand why that didn´t work out."

Harry lowered his gaze and nodded.

"Others suggested putting you in a wizard orphanage. A muggle orphanage would have been completely out of the question, as your guardians could not be kept in the dark about your wizard identity."

`Even though I was kept in the dark about it...´ Harry thought.

"It was not my intention, my boy, for you to be left in the dark about it either. A side effect of the Dursleys, I´m afraid."

Harry slowly raised his eyes again and stared in amazement. He knew Dumbledore was nearly omniscient about everything that happened in the school. But to be able to read minds? It was impossible. It had to be...

"We refused to put you in a wizard orphanage because, frankly, you likely would faired worse there than anywhere else. There are not nearly as many wizard orphans as there are muggle orphans, but that only means that the facilities for them are more sparse and less adequately equipped.

So, it seemed that there were two choices left: to let you live with one of the Hogwarts staff..." Dumbledore looked at an anxious Snape as he said this, but Harry failed to notice, "...or to send you to live with the Dursleys. As far as that Hogwarts staff member goes, it would have been far too dangerous for the both of you if he had been allowed to raise you, although I rather wish he could have, Harry. You would have liked each other very much, and you could have been raised with some knowledge of the wizarding world. The only positive reasons to send you to the Dursleys was because of a certain magical property that would protect you there. That, and you wouldn´t get a big head from being famous," he said, grinning slightly. Snape huffed at his comment and, had Harry looked up, he would have seen Dumbledore give the man a look that was both apologetic and thankful. Instead, Harry was glaring at the Potions Master, who sneered back at him.

"When we first placed you with the Dursleys, Harry, your Aunt Petunia was actually rather fond of you, even if she did complain. You were only a year old, after all. Harry...the magic that kept you safe at Privet Drive depended on a bond of love from blood relatives. For years, there was enough of that with the Dursleys to keep you protected, but now..."

"...the love faded..." Harry finished.

"Not entirely...but, not enough is left to keep the spells alive..." Dumbledore gazed at him for a long time. "Harry, they will always care about you, in their own way, just as you care about them..."

Harry shrugged, attempting to look indifferent.

"It´s alright, Professor. I know they don´t really care. It doesn´t matter..." However, he failed miserably at keeping his voice from shaking. He had known for a long time, of course, that the Dursleys didn´t much care what happened to him. But to hear it from another person, and to have it...proved...like that, was a different matter entirely. It cut him more deeply than he ever imagined the Dursleys could. But why was Snape being so quiet through this? Surely this was the perfect opportunity to torment Harry and make him feel as low as possible. He turned to look at his Potions professor. The man wasn´t even scowling! In fact, he was staring at his lap, his expression as empty as ever.

`Maybe Dumbledore had to force him to be nice. Maybe that´s why he was so upset when I first came in,´ he thought. Whatever the reason, Harry was glad that Snape wasn´t taking this chance to make him feel worse. Suddenly, Harry thought of something.

"Er...Professor Dumbledore? How come you said in your letter that I´ll be as safe with the Weasleys as I have been with he Dursleys? They´re not blood relatives. Why does the magic still work?"

The old man smiled sadly.

"It´s a bit complicated, Harry. It is a different sort of magic, in a way. But you have formed a very close bond with the Weasley family. You might as well be one of their own. It´s true that the magic there will be less...er...natural...than with the Dursleys. But with some adjustments, it will be just as strong."

Harry nodded. It seemed reasonable, but for some reason, it still didn´t shake the emptiness he felt since Dumbledore told him why he would no longer be staying with the Dursleys. He couldn´t understand it. He was always miserable with the Dursleys, and certainly he was happy that he wouldn´t have to spend another summer with them. So why was he feeling this way? He sighed and heard McGonagall next to him sniffle.

"Harry," Dumbledore began again. He cleared his throat. "I think it´s time we told you about Godricstown."

Harry nodded slowly.

"How much did you tell him, Minerva?"

"Only a brief history, and that the spell went wrong."

"Very well," Dumbledore cleared his throat again. "Severus?"

* * * * *

Albus gestured to me and I nodded very slightly. This was it. I would have to tell Harry something that would make him hate me more than Voldemort himself. I would never be ready...

"Potter, I assume McGonagall informed you of Dextrelburg´s reign of terror and the founding of Willingston?"

"Yes sir."

Hmm. "So she informed you of the circumstances under which Willingston was founded?"

"To protect Godricstown."

"Did she tell you how?"

Harry kept quiet. He looked at me for several seconds before turning his gaze to the floor.

What fun.

"Well, Potter, kindly inform me of what she did tell you."

"Er...well...she said that Dextrousburg..."

"Dextrelburg."

"Er...Dextrelburg...rose to power and tormented and killed people, and that he went especially after the heirs of Godric Gryffindor, and that Willingston was a Secret Keeper for Godricstown, but the spell went wrong."

"Did she tell you what went wrong?"

"No, Professor Snape."

Oh, what a privilege. So the poor child has to hear this from me as well. He´ll appreciate it, I´m sure...

"Very well. At the time of Dextrelburg´s reign, sorcerers from western Europe were experimenting with a kind of Fidelius Charm that would hide entire communities instead of just a small group of people. It involved hiding their location within the people of another community. Although it was a complicated concept, and even though the Fidelius Charm itself was new at the time, the wizards decided to try it. Willingston became their unwitting subject. Fools. Godricstown needed protection from Dextrelburg, and normal wards failed to provide this protection, so they...convinced, in a manner of speaking...both muggles and wizards to found the town of Willingston to act as a Secret Keeper of sorts for Godricstown. The only trouble is, these new founders were unaware that they were being used in what was essentially still an experiment."

I broke from my tirade to look at Harry. He seemed to be taking it alright. That is, he hadn´t collapsed into a screaming fit yet. It would come soon enough though, for sure. He did look confused though, so I decided it would be best to clarify my last point. If the child was going to hate me anyway, the least I could do was keep him informed. What a consolation.

"The Fidelius Charm works as well as it does only when the Secret Keeper strongly agrees to having the spell cast on him. He must have some desire or motive for it."

Harry huffed and glared at me.

"Then why was Wormtail still able to be a Secret Keeper for my parents?! He didn´t want the spell to work. He was just interested in..."

"I never said it had to be a good motive, Potter. If his only motive was to return the information to Voldemort, then the desire must have been strong enough to allow the spell to work. Now, may I continue uninterrupted? I have better things to do with my time, Potter..."

"No! You said all those people were convinced to found Willingston. But why would they move so close to Godricstown, in the middle of a war?"

Harry really surprised me sometimes. I would have never expected in a million years for him to interrupt me just then, especially since I had given him one of my most formidable sneers. But he had, and he had caught something that I had hoped I wouldn´t have to tell him about. It would hurt his pride, I knew, which isn´t always a bad thing. But it would also hurt his respect for his ancestors, and I would have done anything to prevent that. But to no avail, apparently. Curiosity killed the cat, Harry.

"They convinced those people, Potter, in the same way that Voldemort convinced you to bow to him last term."

Minerva shuttered when I said "Voldemort". Dear, foolish woman. Harry, however, did not react to my use of the Dark Wizard´s real name. Good boy. I could have hugged him right then and there. I didn´t, though, for obvious reasons. Instead, I watched his face for signs of recognition, and was pleased to see them. Good. And I was afraid the analogy would be too harsh...

"They...used the Imperius Curse on them?"

I sneered as nastily as I could.

"Oh. Clever, clever Potter. So there is something in that head of yours after all."

"But, I thought that anyone who used the Forbidden curses would have gotten the Dementor´s Kiss?"

That´s my boy. Always remembers the details. I effectively hid the smile that was creeping its way onto my face.

"Oh, two in a row Potter. The must be a record for you. Care to try for another?"

"But...they were using the very things they were condemning! How could they? Gryffindor´s heirs wouldn´t have stood for it..."

I´m sorry, Harry...

"Foolish boy! You honestly believe that? Gryffindor´s heirs were the ones who recommended it! They would have done anything to stay alive. They thought that, since those people would not move into the area willingly, what harm could come from forcing them? As long as they themselves were safe, the muggles and lower wizards didn´t matter. Damned Gryffindor bravery didn´t run deep enough to actually show when it should have."

He just stared at me. I wished he would yell, curse...something. But not this silence. His breathing was so heavy, I knew he was angry. I wished I could have told him to let it out. I just discredited your ancestors, Harry. It´s alright to say something. Then a thought struck me: Does he even know? Had no one told him? Perhaps I should...I looked back at Albus, who, bless him, seemed to know exactly what I was thinking about. He held up his hand and stood.

"Harry, we had not planned on telling you this today, but as it has come up..."

He paused and took a deep breath. I had to look away from him.

"Harry, do you remember in your second year when you pulled that sword from the sorting hat?"

He glanced at me, then nodded rather warily at Albus.

"And do you remember what I said about that sword?"

"You...said that...only a true Gryffindor could have pulled that out of the hat..." I watched as his eyes grew wider. His lips parted and he started to say something, but stopped. He tried to say something else, but again stopped.

Albus shifted nervously. "Harry, maybe you should have a meal and some sleep now. We can continue our discussion tomorrow, or the day after if need be. This is going to be a lot for you to take in, especially since we hadn´t planned on telling you about your ancestry."

Harry began to nod dumbly, but just as it seemed that Albus was going to agree, the boy shook himself and said:

"No! Please, I won´t be able to sleep now anyway. Just...please...just continue now. I´d rather get it out of the way..."

"Alright, Harry, if you think you can do it."

No! I turned, disbelieving, to Albus. He can´t make him take it all now. Of course, Harry said he could do it. He doesn´t want to look weak. But he needed a break, I knew. Damn you, Albus, for agreeing with him...

Harry drew in a shuddering breath, and looked at Albus with wide eyes. But Albus didn´t say a word to him. Instead, he looked at me and sat down again. Of course.

"Hmpf. So, they brought over the unwitting subjects and created Willingston. Now, all they had to do was cast the spell, a seemingly simple task." I sneered. "Apparently not so simple: all the people of Godricstown had to be tied in a fashion to the people of Willingston. This was much more complicated than anyone had hoped, but they accomplished it, eventually. Then, the moment of truth. Prominent wizards from all around Europe gathered to cast the spell. Throngs of people gathered to watch, forgetting for a time the war, the reason that the spell was being cast. Then, finally, the time came. Not only did the people of Godricstown disappear from sight as they were supposed to, but the people of Willingston disappeared as well. Certain...optimists...of the time believed that this was supposed to happen, and that, simply, no one had realized it. So they decided that once Dextrelburg had been defeated, they would simply cast the counter-spell and all would be well again. This is where fact departs from the legend told to most people. The common story runs thus: after Dextrelburg´s defeat, the wizards gathered once again to cast the counter-spell. In this version, the counter-spell freed the people of Willingston, leaving Godricstown protected from harm forever. They told people that as long as Willingston was safe, Godricstown would be too. That is most likely why the Weasleys and Granger were so surprised that Willingston had been attacked."

I broke off to look at Harry. He was watching me, his eyes opened wide, and his lips slightly parted in surprise. I saw anxiety on his features and wished that Albus had forced him to wait until tomorrow to hear the rest of the story. Poor child. He shouldn´t have to hear any of this.

"In reality, however, things did not go over so well. The wizards did gather to cast the counter-spell. But the people never re-appeared. They tried over and over again. They tried other spells, enlisted the help of more powerful wizards. At some point they turned to Dark magic. But nothing could counteract the spell. The people never reappeared. Nothing was heard from them. In the coming decades they tried over and over again with new technology to right the situation. But to no avail. Eventually they gave up and invented the version of events that most people would hear."

Harry was staring at me. I could see him sweating ever so slightly at hearing this tale. He really was a good boy. He would never give up on anyone like that, and it must really bother him to hear that anyone would. Just wait until you hear the rest of this, Harry. You won´t be able to look at me any more.

"Pr...Professor? If the Gryffindors were trapped in Godricstown, and I´m Gryffindor´s heir, then...why am I here?"

I stared at him blankly for quite some time. Yet again, he surprised me. He had noticed that detail, as upset as he had every right to be. How did he do that? I would have never expected him to ask that. I had hoped he wouldn´t. This is going to hurt, child.

"One of Gryffindor´s cousins, several times removed, by the name of William Potter, decided he didn´t want to stay in Godricstown, given the turn of events. He and his wife moved to Godric´s Hollow."

"What turn of events? Do you mean, he didn´t want to stay because they were using the Imperius Curse on those people?"

Oh, Harry. How I wish I could tell you that his reasons were so noble.

"Hmpf. Honestly, Potter, you believe that? William Potter didn´t give a damn about the people being shipped into Willingston. All he cared about was himself. He was smart enough to realize that the spell could backfire, and simply didn´t want to be around when it did."

Harry´s little face was broken. How can you, Harry, believe that people are so innately good? After all that has happened to you, child, after how the Dursleys have treated you, the suspicions from the wizarding world...after how I have treated you, how can you still see so much good in people? The human race is selfish, my boy, rotten, no good, stupid...only you are so pure as to think otherwise.

"Now, may I continue?" I spat with as much vehemence as I could muster, given the fact that all I really wanted to do was tell Harry that everything would be all right. He nodded slowly, never taking his eyes from mine. "Dark Wizards since Dextrelburg have avoided attacking Willingston, because, nearly without exception, they knew the true turn of events and feared what could happen if the spell from centuries ago was finally broken. Even Voldemort, during his first reign, stayed away from anything that had to do with Godricstown or Willingston. He should have continued to stay away. When his Death Eaters attacked Willingston this morning...the original inhabitants, from centuries ago, Potter, reappeared. It seems that whatever Dark magic Voldemort used partially reversed the spell, in a fashion. It´s as if the people have been brought forward in time perfectly intact, as if all these years haven´t passed. Fudge, the bastard, fainted when he was told about the attack. Needless to say, the Ministry has no idea how to handle the situation. If what has happened has given Voldemort any access to Godricstown, after all these years, there is no telling what might happen to those people or, by extension, to you."

Harry was breathing heavily. This was too much for him to handle all at once. And there was more still to come...the part that would hurt him the most of any of this. Minerva had her hand on his arm, attempting to comfort him. Go ahead, Minerva, make me seem as cold and cruel as possible. God knows I would be the one to comfort him if I could. But better McGonagall than no one, I suppose. He needs someone.

Albus cleared his throat loudly, and I realized I might as well get on with it. Here it comes.

"There´s more, Potter. It´s time you found out." I´m sorry, Harry.

He just stared at me.

"Potter, about sixteen years ago, two Aurors decided that, before they retired, they wanted to do something for the...light...side of the struggle against Voldemort. They knew his biggest foes were the heirs of Godric Gryffindor. But at that time, there were few of them left. Most of your clan had been exterminated by this point, and the others, of course, had been trapped centuries before. So these Aurors decided that they would make an expedition to the site of Godricstown and see if they couldn´t magically find their way inside the city. They expected that, from inside, they would be able to either free the people, or at least find some information to help in the struggle against the Dark Lord. Were they to find their way inside, they knew they would need a way to get out again. So they commissioned a young Potions Maker to brew a retrieval potion for them. It would ensure that they would have a kind of life line back to the real world, should they be unable to find their way out of Godricstown. Now, they were successful in getting inside the city, or so we assume. But...Potter, they had had so much confidence in that young Potions Maker...and he had really been young..." I inhaled sharply. "Potter, he made a fatal error in making the retrieval potion. Just one wrong ingredient, one wrong variant of some plant...and it had been rendered useless...and he never knew until the Aurors failed to return. Potter, in case you haven´t realized this yet, I was that young Potions Maker..."

I watched as confusion, then anxiety crept into his features.

"...and those Aurors were Christopher and Auralee Potter...your grandparents."

He just stared at me. Please, Harry, say something. This silence of yours scares me. Cry out, curse me, hit me, but don´t just sit there.

"It was an accident Potter, I was young." I didn´t even try to sound like my usual bitter self. How could I when I had already hurt him this much? "I´m sorry, boy." You have no idea how sorry.

I watched numbly as his expression grew angrier and angrier, until he finally shot up out of his chair.

"You´re sorry? You take my grandparents from me and you´re sorry? I could have lived with them all these years...I could have lived with people who could tell me about my parents, people who loved my parents. I...I could have had relatives who actually cared if I lived or died...and you´re sorry?!"

"Potter I..."

"No! Stop it! Don´t tell me you were young, don´t tell me it was an accident, and don´t apologize again. I don´t want to hear it! You don´t mean it anyway. Just stay away from me!"

He ran from the office, leaving me dumb-struck. I wish it had never happened. I wish I hadn´t had to tell Harry. I barely saw Minerva run after the boy as Albus came over to me. I know the old man said something in my ear, something to try to comfort me. But I couldn´t hear him. All I wanted was to go after Harry and plead until he forgave me. I had deeply hurt the one child I loved as my own, and there wasn´t a damn thing I could do about it.

"Severus, it will be alright. It took courage to tell him what you did..."

Hah! What courage? Just innate cruelty...

"It will get better Severus. Just give him time to adjust to it. He´ll be alright. And you will be too. You´re not alone in this..."

A realization hit me. I shook my head. "But I am alone now, Albus." And with that I swept from the room, leaving the old man flabbergasted once more.

Harry tore down the stairs as fast as he could, vaguely aware of the fact that McGonagall was following him, calling his name. But he didn´t want to listen to her try to comfort him: he didn´t want to talk about it. All he really wanted to do at the moment was sit by himself in his dormitory and not have to think about it anymore. But he knew that was impossible. Even if he could manage to be completely alone, he would still not be able to block out his thoughts. He considered, for a moment, going to the hospital wing to see if Madam Pomfrey had any Dreamless Sleep potion, but realized that she was probably still on her summer vacation. Perhaps if he could stand whatever it was McGonagall wanted to say to him now, maybe she would be able to get him some.

Slowing to a stop, Harry gazed back at his teacher, waiting for her to catch up with him.

"Potter," she said simply as she stood next to him, attempting to catch her breath. It took several minutes for her breathing to return to normal, and when it did, she gave him a look of sympathy that he deeply regretted. He stared intently at the floor.

"Potter...I...I´m so sorry. I know this is difficult for you, and if you´d like to talk about it..."

"I´m f...fine Professor," he replied, sounding the opposite of fine. He glanced back up at her, meeting her gaze, and realized at once that she didn´t believe him.

"I just..." he stopped, furiously blinking away the moisture in his eyes. "I think I might need some sleeping potion, that´s all." He really hoped that he sounded casual. "I´m fine otherwise, honest," he repeated, knowing he was far from it. He just hoped that Dumbledore might be able to answer some questions tomorrow, even though he had run out on the man. He was beginning to feel a little silly that he had done so. He should have been mature enough to at least wait until the Headmaster dismissed him. Perhaps he´d had more he needed to say? Then it would have been extremely rude for Harry to run out like that. But somehow, he couldn´t picture himself staying in that room any longer. He was too angry with Snape. If it hadn´t been for him and his botched potion, he would have had grandparents all these years. He would have had a family. It enraged him to think that his teacher, who had tormented him ever since they had met four years ago, was the one who had deprived him of a family. Somehow, he was more angry with Snape about this than he was with Voldemort for killing his parents. At least Voldemort was a crazed maniac. What was Snape´s excuse?

Finally, McGonagall sighed and nodded, warily.

"I´ll send you some of the potion, Mr. Potter. Go straight to Gryffindor Tower, please."

"Yes, Professor McGonagall."

As soon as Harry rounded the corner, Minerva turned to see her colleague storming away from the Headmaster´s office. He glanced at her briefly, then turned his gaze determinedly forward and headed to the dungeons. But he knew he wouldn´t get away from her that easily. She always had something to say to him, when all he really wanted to do was be alone and drown his sorrows in work. Infuriating woman.

"Severus," she beckoned. He sighed loudly and turned to her.

"Mr. Potter thinks he will need some Dreamless Sleep Potion tonight. I trust you can get him some?´

He scrutinized her features for what seemed like an eternity before answering cautiously.

"I´ll send a house elf with it."

When all she said was "good", Severus nearly gaped in shock. But before she could decide to continue, he turned and swept to his storeroom.

* * * * *

Once back to Gryffindor Tower, Harry hurried past his friends and the Aurors who were talking with them, saying he was tired and wanted to go to bed. But when he got to the fifth year dormitory, he went straight to his trunk to retrieve parchment, ink, and a quill. Then, pulling the surrounding curtains shut, he settled on his bed to write a letter to Tiros. He realized he was too embarrassed about running off to talk to the Headmaster about anything. But somehow, he knew Tiros would understand perfectly.

Half an hour later, Harry was signing his name to the letter, but something was still nagging at the back of his mind. He knew he should say something about it, but he was...scared...to. It made it so final, and he knew it wasn´t what he really wanted. But it would be best for everyone else. With a heavy sigh, he added it in a postscript, and then anxiously sent the letter on its way.

* * * * *

The shelves in Severus´s storeroom were lined with bottles of various sizes, filled with potions of varying color and potency. They had all been meticulously organized and catalogued a week ago, so Severus easily found what he needed. He pulled the cork out briefly to smell the potion. Hideous, as always. He really should work on making the thing taste better. It would get his mind off things anyway.

With a heavy sigh, he closed and charmed the door to the storeroom and sank into his desk chair. He sat for several minutes, simply looking at the potion, seemingly contemplating it and trying to put the day´s events out of his mind. Loathe as he was to admit it to anyone, himself included, the double life he was living was wearing him down fast. No. Not double life. Triple. The Deatheater, the spy, and...dare he say it...the father figure..to Harry Potter. And each of these lives were at odds with the others. If only he could tell just one of them--just one--the real truth...well, then perhaps then he would be able to see it through. But it was impossible. He couldn´t tell Voldemort that he was a spy: he would be killed. And he couldn´t tell his students that he was just pretending to be a Deatheater: it would ruin all of Dumbledore´s plans. And he couldn´t tell Harry that he was Tiros, that he was the man that he´d been confiding in all these years...because then he would lose Harry for good.

He shook himself mentally, bringing himself back to the present. The potion. Harry needed the potion. As much as he would have loved to take it to the boy himself, he knew that Harry wouldn´t be able to stand that. Instead, he rang for Dobby, who popped in a moment later and happily took the vial from him.

"Now what?" he muttered to himself. He wouldn´t be able to sleep tonight, not even with a potion, as he found that he had become immune to all but the strongest. He usually drowned his sorrows in work. But the problem now was that he had done almost everything in preparation for next term. All he really needed to do was go to Diagon Alley and replenish his supply of ingredients for antidotes: he always needed a healthy supply of antidotes around when he tested the students´ potions. But the Apothecary in Diagon Alley was already closed for the day. He contemplated going to Malcus´s for the items, but he didn´t want to go to Knockturn Alley if he could avoid it. He wasn´t in the mood to run into Lucius today.

In the end, he decided to brew himself a dose of the Draught of the Living Death and try to sleep. It successfully took his thoughts away from Harry, Voldemort, the Potters, and any such unpleasantries for some time. But as he prepared to add some asphodel, he heard a tapping on the classroom´s door.

`Merlin, Albus," he thought to himself. `Since when do you knock?´

But it wasn´t the Headmaster.

Instead, a large Snowy owl swooped into the room and landed on his desk in a very dignified manner. She held out her leg and hooted for him to open the letter that had been hastily tied to it.

Instead he just stared. He easily recognized Hedwig, who had been delivering Harry´s letters since his first year at Hogwarts. But he also recognized what would be in that letter. His heart caught in mid-beat.

`Oh, Harry, I know I deserve this. But I don`t want to know just how much you hate me now.´

Too late, though. It was already here, already written. He couldn´t do that to Harry. It was his duty...his promise...his wish to help the boy, and he couldn´t back out now, just because it might hurt.

His long fingers slowly undid the knot that held his impending doom to the bird´s leg. Hedwig hooted, annoyed and flew swiftly out the door, leaving the Potions Master to face the parcel alone.

Sucking in a deep breath, Severus lowered himself back into his chair and unrolled the parchment.

-----Dear Tiros,

I can´t believe what that slimy git Snape just told me! I hate him! You see, I finally got to Hogwarts today and Dumbledore called me to his office. He told me that I couldn´t stay at the Dursleys anymore because...

[Here something was scratched out.]

...the magic faded, or something. And it kind of bothered me, but I don´t know why. At least I get to stay with the Weasleys in the summer. But what if something happens to them? Voldemort is after me and that puts the Weasleys in danger. Dumbledore said they were putting spells on the Burrow to protect us, but it´s still such a risk. I don´t know what to do.

That`s only the beginning though. I guess you know about the attack on Willingston this morning, since you´re friends with Professor Dumbledore. I heard about it on the train on the way over. Snape told me what really happened when they made Willingston the "secret keeper." He said that my ancestors used the Imperious Curse to make the people go along with it. I almost couldn´t believe him. He´s always telling me the worst things he can about my family. It´s like he wants me to hate them as much as he hates me.

I just can´t help thinking that if Snape was never born I might still have a family. The slimy git said that, a year before I was born, my grandparents decided they wanted to go to Godricstown to help free it. He said they wanted him to make the retrieval potion so that they could get out again, but that he botched it by accident. They got stuck there, Tiros! If that stupid git had made the potion right, I could have lived with my grandparents all this time instead of the Dursleys, and the Weasleys wouldn´t be in danger now. I hate him! I know it´s a bit childish but I can´t get over it. I bet he made that mistake on purpose. Since he was a Death Eater, I wouldn´t put anything past him. How could he have treated me like this all these years, knowing what he did to my family?

Sorry. I know this is a long letter. But if you see Dumbledore, could you tell him I´m sorry for the outburst I had in his office?

Sincerely,

Harry

P.S. I think I know what to do about the Weasleys being in danger. I don´t want to do it, but I should: I just won´t stay there this summer. I can stay at the Leaky Cauldron. I´ve plenty of money after all, and there are plenty of wizards there so Dumbledore shouldn´t object.-----

Severus sighed deeply. If he got through this war without ending up in St. Mungo´s loony bin, it would be a miracle.

His heart stopped.

All of a sudden it dawned on him just how deep Harry´s hatred ran. Harry always tended to understate his emotions, even to "Tiros," because of that unnatural fear he had of appearing weak. So, for the boy to actually come out and say that he hated him...to wish that Severus had never even been born...

Quite suddenly, the grim realization hit him that Harry had never even wished this harshness upon Voldemort. Yet there it was, in plain English, that the boy wished death to the same man who had provided him comfort and advice since the age of three. No. Not the same man. Not to Harry anyway. To Harry, they could never be more different. But they were the same man.

"Me..." Severus whispered to the empty room. Like a bullet in the chest came the realization that his boy hated him more than anything else in the world, and there was not a thing he could do about it.

* * * * *

Severus woke sometime later to find himself slumped over on his desk, his face lying in a thin film of a very foul smelling potion. A very corrosive, foul smelling potion.

"Shit!" He jumped up, tipping his chair violently backward as he groped for his wand. He found it, but in his haste to cast the cleaning spell, it slipped from his fingers...and landed right in the spilt potion.

"Fuck! Of all the..."

"Abstergo," mumbled a new voice. Its owner shuffled into the storage room, easily removing the locking spells, and emerged a few moments later, clutching a vial of cream-colored potion and a piece of gauze.

"Sit down, Severus," said the voice, gently. Severus obeyed almost without a thought, picking up his slightly scorched wand as he sank into the now-righted chair. The voice´s hand was gently wiping the chemical burn on Severus´s face with a cooling, creamy potion. He winced as he felt the burning flare ten-fold, before fading away completely.

"Another five minutes and I would have a very nasty hole in my cheek. What do you need, Albus?" he asked, rather more harshly than he meant to.

"I just thought it would be wise to see how you were doing...what was that that you were trying to brew?"

Severus sneered. "I was brewing a perfectly fine Draught of the Living Death, before it boiled over. I suppose I fell asleep before I added the asphodel. That tends to make it unstable."

"Unstable?"

"Yes, and quite corrosive once it cools."

"Ah...well, Potions was never my strong suit..." the old man said as he touched a piece of parchment lying on the desk. It was resting near the edge, and so had managed to avoid being damaged by the spill. He continued to finger it as he turned his gaze to the Potions professor, who was carefully avoiding eye contact under the pretense of examining his damaged wand.

"Is this what I think it is, Severus?"

He frowned and nodded mutely. Albus pointed his wand at a chair and it crept over to the opposite side of the Potion Master´s desk. He sat down in it and waited. Severus would talk when he was ready.

"I lied to him, Albus," he said in barely above a whisper.

"You didn´t."

"I did. I told him it was an accident."

"And an accident it was."

Severus threw down his wand angrily and hurdled himself out of his chair.

"What accident, Albus?" he spat as he paced the room, tugging at the roots of his hair. "Who would make such a mistake? I knew better. I can´t figure what came over me. I knew it wasn´t right, yet I failed to fix it. I didn´t purposely fail them, but...how can I call it an accident?" He stared disbelievingly at the floor.

"You were only nineteen..."

"I was old enough. I had plenty of experience, you said it yourself at the time. I was one of the best Potions Makers in England."

"I know. I recommended you to them..." And for once, Albus Dumbledore regretted the words that had come out of his mouth.

"You...what? You never told me that before," Severus almost whispered, incredulously, and at once stopped pacing. So, not only had he caused the disappearance of the Potters, but he had discredited and failed Dumbledore.

"Severus, Chris and Auralee knew the risks of this going in. They realized the possibility that they would never make it out again, but they were willing to take that risk. They did it because they wanted to. No one forced them. They wouldn´t have blamed you."

"Yes, well...they don´t have too." He resumed his pacing. Albus simply sat in silence, watching as a fly on the desk cleaned itself.

"He doesn´t want to stay with the Weasleys," Severus continued after such a long silence that Dumbledore had been ready to give up and go back to his quarters. His head shot up in surprise, before he realized what that really meant.

"He´s afraid to endanger them."

Severus nodded. "He plans to stay at the Leaky Cauldron this summer."

"The Weasleys are perfectly safe at the Burrow. But if worst comes to worst, he can stay here at Hogwarts."

Severus just stared at him dubiously. Albus smiled back, his eyes twinkling, and winked.

"I´ll talk to him, Severus. I don´t want you worrying about it."

This answer seemed to be good enough for the Potions Master, because he nodded and sighed in a acquiescent manner. He walked over to his chair and lowered himself into it. He promptly shot back out of it, however, when something pointy poked him.

"Damned infernal wand!" he hissed as he reached down and picked it up, before throwing it violently against a wall. Both men watched curiously as it bounced off and landed back on the table.

"It´s being quite insistent, my friend."

Severus scowled. "I suppose it might still be useful..."

"Of course. A little burn like that won´t ruin an Ollivander´s wand." This somewhat calmed the Potions Master down, but his brow was still furrowed with emotion as he sat down again, wand in hand.

"What else did Harry say?" Albus asked, in a voice that was gentle, yet left no room for argument.

He watched as his friend opened his mouth to say something, but, apparently deciding against it, shut it again. This happened for several minutes, before the younger man gave up entirely. Instead he snorted, and, leaning over the desk, handed Harry´s letter to the Headmaster. Perhaps this was an invasion of Harry´s privacy. But Albus would find out anyway, somehow. Why not this way?

While the Headmaster read, the two men sat in relative silence, broken only by the soft tapping of Severus´s wand. It was a habit that he had picked up long ago, though he usually only succumbed it in private.

Finally, Albus sighed and tossed the letter back onto the desk. He lifted his spectacles and pinched the bridge of his nose. Severus had stopped tapping and was now running his fingers up and down his wand, seemingly concentrating on the task. Eventually, the Headmaster opened his mouth to say something, but Severus beat him to it.

"I don´t want to talk about it Albus, please? It´s over..."

"What is over, Severus? Nothing. This is an obstacle, but he will get over it. He´s a clever boy. He´ll come to realize that it was an accident and he will eventually forgive you for it."

"I doubt that..." he muttered, not meeting his friend´s gaze.

Albus was watching him now with a foreboding glint in his eye. Severus looked up from his wand long enough to recognize it. He rarely saw the Headmaster give him that look, but whenever he did, Severus knew he was planning to say something rather unpleasant. Tossing his wand on the desk, he laughed mirthlessly and stood once again.

"Just say it, Headmaster. Spare me the agony of not knowing."

"You have to tell him, Severus, and soon."

Severus threw himself back into the chair. The old man was right, and he knew it. But how could he do that to Harry? If he did, the boy would surely reject him. Then what? What would he do? He needed Harry, if only as an outlet to be himself. For more than that, probably, though he hated to admit that he was so dependent on another person. No. He definitely couldn´t tell him. Not now, not ever.

But he had to.

"In the mean time, you can always use Tiros to slide Harry in your favor a bit," his friend offered gently.

Use Tiros? There it was again, like they weren´t the same man. Maybe the fates were playing with him, throwing yet another sick twist into his life. Perhaps it was impossible for Severus Snape and "Tiros" to be one and the same. Maybe Severus had to be cruel, so that "Tiros" could be kind. It would be a disaster, really, if it were so.

And it would be so utterly predictable.

Dumbledore had begun talking again and was holding a glass vial out to him. He stared at it for almost a minute before he registered what it was: Draught of the Living Death.

He allowed the corners of his mouth to turn up into a half-smile as he took the potion into his hand. Dumbledore smiled back and, bending over, placed a light kiss on top of the Potion Master´s head.

"Goodnight, then," he said, and departed.

But instead of going to his own chambers, Severus sat for a long time in silence, going over things in his head that he wished would disappear. But as the morning sun reached Hogwarts´ highest tower, Severus Snape finally realized what had to be done.