An eerie silence had settled over the starlit houses of Privet Drive. Five black-cloaked figures approached a single, dark house, aware that its three occupants were completely unprotected. One of the figures opened the door slowly, not even wincing when its rusted hinges let out a high-pitched creak. The other four followed him inside, pushing aside banners and crepe paper that littered the floor. Wordlessly, all five figures walked up the stairs, to the bedrooms where the family slept. Two split off, heading down the hall to a room where a boy was snoring. The others did not waver in their stride towards the master bedroom, where the doomed couple lay. The door opened, and the three figures swept inside. They gathered around the bed, not caring whether or not they woke the dormant couple. All three figures raised their wands, and all that could be seen was a flash of green light...

* * * * *

Harry sat bolt upright in bed. Sunlight was streaming into the windows of the fifth year dormitory. Harry glanced at the grandfather clock against the far wall. It was nearly ten-thirty in the morning. His first thought was that he was very late for his first few classes. But no...it was Sunday. Harry sighed in relief and began wandering in the general direction of the washroom.

All of a sudden, the dream came flooding back to him.

The Dursleys were in trouble. Serious trouble. Harry’s first instinct was to put the dream in the Dormito Pensieve and send it to Tiros. But then he felt a pang of regret that almost made him gag. He couldn’t do that anymore. He couldn’t send any more of his nightmares to Tiros.

But Harry could at least let Dumbledore see it for himself. Someone had to know about it, so that something could be done. It might as well be Dumbledore. After all, Harry couldn’t blame the Headmaster because Ti...Snape...had betrayed him.

Harry sat down in front of his trunk and dug for the Pensieve. He found it, buried near the bottom, where it could be kept a secret from his roommates. He pulled it out, along with the flask full of potion to refill it. He poured enough into the silver box to contain his dream and recapped the extra. He was running low, and Snape would probably not bother to send him any more. It didn’t really matter, though. Harry didn’t think he would be using it much after this.

Touching his wand to his temple, Harry began to transfer the dream to the swirling liquid. A few minutes later, when he finished, and the dream started to play out in front of him. Harry slammed the lid onto the box. He didn’t want to see any of that again. He placed the Pensieve carefully on his bed, under the blanket, and pulled the curtains closed. Then, he went to the washroom with a jumper and a pair of jeans and pulled them on as quickly as he could. Coming out, he noticed for the first time that Ron was still in the room, and was just waking up.

“Morning Harry,” the redhead mumbled blearily.

“Morning,” Harry called back absently, already on his way out the door.

“Where were you yes...Hey! Where are you going, Har...”

Harry did not wait for his friend to finish his sentence, nor did he bother to answer. He shot down the stairs to the common room, ignoring the stares and the questions being shot at him. He stumbled out the portrait hole, nearly knocking Neville, who was standing in front of the Fat Lady trying to remember the password, to the ground.

He only clutched the box and ran for the Headmaster’s office. He failed to notice a very irritated McGonagall, who was asking him what in the name of Merlin he thought he was doing running through the halls.

He finally reached the gargoyle and began throwing out passwords.

“Lemon Drops!”

Nothing.

“Nilla Wafers?”

Still nothing.

“Chocolate frogs...Bertie Bott’s Every Flavor Beans...Pumpkin Pasties...treacle fudge...Mars Bars...erm...Skittles!”

The gargoyle leapt aside.

“Skittles?” Harry muttered to himself. Then he ran up the stairs before the gargoyle could change its mind.

“Professor Dumbledore,” he called as he banged on the door. “Professor Dumbledore!”

The door opened suddenly to reveal a cheery-faced Headmaster standing before Harry.

“Well, good morning, Harry. What can I do for you?”

“Please Professor, the Dursleys are in trouble,” he panted out, practically shoving the Dormito Pensieve into the Headmaster’s hands. “Please, take a look. I dreamt that last night.”

Dumbledore suddenly looked less cheery. “Ah. I see. Come in and take a seat please, Harry.”

Harry walked in and Dumbledore shut the door behind him. It was then that Harry noticed another presence in the room. Snape was sitting in one of the leather chairs in front of Dumbledore’s fireplace. Harry stared at him, but the man wasn’t looking back at Harry. Instead the Potions Master was staring at the box in the Headmaster’s hands with...was that hurt?...in his eyes. With a quick glance at Harry, he abruptly stood and swept from the room.

“Take a seat, Harry, and let’s take a look at this, shall we?” Dumbledore instructed, sitting at his desk. Harry sat in a chair across from his headmaster and waited. Dumbledore pulled out his wand and, waving it over the Pensieve, played back the dream. Harry couldn’t watch it again, so he took his time examining the portraits that lined the walls. He dearly hoped that they were in time to save the Dursleys. Despite the way they treated him, Harry did not want them to die.

After watching the dream several times, Dumbledore shut the Pensieve and leaned back in his chair.

“You had this dream last night, Harry?”

“Yes, Professor. Well, I mean, it could have been this morning. I woke up just twenty minutes ago...”

Dumbledore grinned at him momentarily, but his smile melted away quickly. “Harry, we need to find out when this is going to happen, or if it has happened already. Now, it looks as if the house was decorated for a party of some sort. Do you know of anything your relatives would be celebrating that could give us a time frame?”

Harry bit his lip, thinking. Then...

“My Aunt Petunia. Her birthday is Thursday.”

“Very well. The only thing I can think of to keep them safe, then, until we can put new wards on the house, is to bring them here.”

Harry suddenly felt dread wash over him. The Dursleys would be here? At Hogwarts? They would not be happy about that. And they would most likely blame the whole thing on him.

But then Harry remembered that that didn’t matter. He never had to go back to the Dursleys. But...did Voldemort know that?

“Professor Dumbledore?”

The aging wizard looked at Harry from where he was standing in front of the fireplace, preparing to toss Floo powder into the fire.

“In a moment, dear boy. I will answer all your questions in just a moment.”

Harry nodded and turned back to the portraits. One of them was picking her nose.

A minute later he heard a familiar old woman’s voice.

“Albus! What can I do for you this morning?”

“Are you alone, Arabella?”

“Well, yes of course. Is something wrong?”

“Young Mr. Potter had another dream last night. The Dursleys are in danger. I need you to go to their place and bind them, let them know that they will be coming to Hogwarts. I will send Severus to meet you there and help you bring them here. We will have to put wards on the house before they can go back home, but I will have to think carefully about what will be most effective.”

“Alright, Albus, I’ll go right over.”

“Thank you, Arabella.”

Then, a moment later...

“Severus, I need you to meet Arabella at the Dursley residence. I am afraid that they are in danger, and they need to be brought here.”

“Certainly, Headmaster. I’m on my way.”

“Good luck then, Severus. And please be discreet.”

“Always, Albus,” and his head retreated from the flames.

Dumbledore closed the Floo connection, and returned to his chair.

“Now, Harry, what was it that you wanted to ask me?”

“Well...I was just wondering, Professor, if you think...well, if Voldemort wanted to attack my relatives, do you think that he doesn’t know that I don’t live with them anymore?”

Dumbledore sighed. “If the attack was indeed supposed to take place on Thursday, then I think it more likely that it was meant as a distraction, than that Voldemort is unaware that you will no longer be in residence there. Perhaps he wants us to think that he is unaware. I believe he still under-estimates the amount of support that I have, because of the Minister’s refusal to cooperate. But even so, Harry, I don’t want you going any place that is isolated unless you have at least several other people with you. If the attack on your relatives is indeed meant to be a distraction, it is possible that Voldemort is planning another move for you.” Here he paused and looked Harry hard in the eye. “I am relieved that you still feel that you can trust me, but, given this, please do not shut Severus out. He can help you a great deal if you give him the chance.”

Harry chewed on the inside of his lip, ignoring that last bit of information. The rest of it, however, was not really news. Harry was resigned to the fact that Voldemort would always be after him. But it wasn‘t himself he was worried about. “Do you think the Weasleys will be alright?”

Dumbledore smiled. “Yes, dear boy, I think they will be perfectly safe at the Burrow.”

“But Professor...well, how can the Dursleys come here if Muggles can’t see Hogwarts? I mean, that’s what Hermione always says, that Muggles can’t see it...”

Dumbledore smiled again, his eyes twinkling. “Don’t worry about that. We have ways to get around that if we need to bring a Muggle on the grounds. After all, we have had to bring Muggle parents here before.”

Harry nodded, but remained silent.

“Very well, Harry. If that is all, then I suggest you get back to your common room. I believe that Professor McGonagall has posted the results of yesterday’s Keeper preliminaries. Your friend Ronald will no doubt want to celebrate with you.”

Harry let a small, but genuine, smile creep across his face. He stood and headed for the door.

“Thank you, Professor.”

“Anytime, Harry. I will inform you once the Dursleys are here.”

* * * * *

As soon as Harry stepped through the portrait hole to the Gryffindor common room, he found himself bombarded by a certain Weasley.

“Harry! Where did you go mate? McGonagall just posted the results of the scrimmage. I made the first cut, Harry! They want to see me and Maureen again...and Dean too! Oh I hope I make it, Harry. I really want to...Do you think I can? You should have seen it yesterday...It was wild! I’ve never seen so many Quaffles! But I didn’t miss one of them, Harry...not one! I almost fell off my broom a few times, but I stayed on, Harry. And Fred and George say I was the best one there! Come on, then. Let’s celebrate! Fred and George nicked us some food from the kitchen, since we both missed out on breakfast. They got butterbeer too! Don’t know where they found it, though. They swore they didn’t go to Hogsmeade. Maybe we shouldn’t drink it then. You reckon, Harry? It might be one of their tricks. They’ve been working on them all summer. I don’t know how they got money to do it. And they managed to buy me new dress robes too, Harry, did I tell you? No, I don’t suppose I did. They’re not bad really. I tried them on. They’re like yours, except dark blue. Say...that reminds me...do you know yet who you want to ask to the Yule Ball? Because I really want to go with...” Ron stopped then when he realized that his friend was staring at him, bewildered. “Say...you look a bit spooky with that look on your face, mate. What’s wrong?”

Harry shut his mouth, which had been hanging open stupidly, and shook his head. “Nothing, Ron. I’m sorry I couldn’t be on the pitch yesterday. But I was watching, for a bit. You did great,” he said and coaxed his lips into a smile.

Ron beamed at him. “That reminds me. What did Snape want with you? You were gone the whole rest of the day.”

Harry knew he couldn’t mention yesterday’s events to Ron yet without becoming a bit emotionally unstable. It had been enough to let Hermione see him that way, but Ron was an entirely different matter. “Oh...” Harry mumbled, waving his hands dismissively. “You know Snape...I’ll tell you about it later if you want. But I’m hungry.” Then, Harry saw the Weasley twins. “Erm...maybe we should get our own food from Dobby. Fred and George look a bit too eager.”

Ron, sending a frightened look to his brothers, who were presently jumping up and down, pointing to a plate of mince pies, nodded his acquiescence. The boys went upstairs to retrieve Harry’s invisibility cloak, and it was then that Harry realized he had left the Pensieve with Dumbledore. Harry sighed. It bothered him, but it wasn’t as if he would be using it anymore anyway. He noticed his friend standing in the doorway, smiling at him, and had to smile back.

“Alright then, let’s go.” And with that, the two friends set off to raid the kitchens.

* * * * *

“So, Harry,” Ron began over a large plate of kidney pudding. “Tell me. What did Snape want with you yesterday?”

Harry took a calming breath. So Ron really wasn’t going to let this go. Harry guessed he would have to tell him sometime, but he was hoping to get to wait.

“No time like the present,” he muttered under his breath, making Ron ask, “What?”

Harry bit his lip. “Er...Snape...told me who Tiros is.”

Ron frowned. “What’s Snape got to do with it?”

Harry shut his eyes. Gritting his teeth, he replied, “Snape is Tiros.”

‘Don’t break in front of Ron,’ he thought to himself. ‘Keep it together. Please, keep it together.’

He opened his eyes to see his friend looking absolutely appalled.

“What in bloody...Tell Dumbledore! You have to! He needs to do something about...”

“Dumbledore’s known about it from the beginning.”

Ron’s mouth dropped even further. “You mean...all this time that...bastard...has been pretending to help you, and at the same time tormenting you every chance he got? And Dumbledore just let it happen?! I think Fred and George might be right. Dumbledore really is losing it. I mean...there’s no other explanation. If he let Snape...”

“Dumbledore thinks I should give him a chance.” Harry shrugged. “How can I, though? I mean, after he knew everything, he still...” Harry trailed off, not wanting to voice these particular thoughts to Ron. How could he give Snape another chance, when he had used all of Harry’s most private hopes, his deepest fears, against him?

“Hey, Harry, does Hermione know?”

Harry nodded. “She found me yesterday.”

“In the dungeons?”

“No. I didn’t stay with Snape very long. I just went to the Astronomy Tower to think...and that’s where she found me.”

Ron nodded, seemingly satisfied. But then, his face acquired a sudden look of horror. “Erm...Harry...you weren’t going to...er...”

Harry knew what his friend meant. “No, of course not,” he lied. He wasn’t going to admit to Ron, or to anyone else, for that matter, that he actually had, briefly, considered jumping. He felt silly just remembering it.

“You almost done, Ron?” He really needed to change the subject.

“Nearly...why?” the redhead inquired, shoveling a piece of chocolate cake into his mouth.

“I have to tell you about what happened this morning...why I ran out of the dorm. But we need to find Hermione so that I don’t have to explain twice.”

Ron nodded, his mouth full of chocolate. “Awigh ‘Awy. Jus a mimuh...”

Harry waited, grinning slightly, as his friend washed down his dessert with two goblets-full of pumpkin juice.

“Alright then, let’s go.”

Both boys got up and gave their thanks to Dobby and the other house elves. Then, throwing the invisibility cloak over themselves, they set off in search of their other friend.

* * * * *

Half an hour later, the three friends were sitting in the library, where they knew no other students would be. Once they were settled, Harry launched into his story about his dream.

“...and so now Dumbledore wants to bring the Dursleys here until they finish putting wards on the house.”

Ron snorted back a cackle. “Your cousin had better stay away from Fred and George. They have some new products to test,” he said, wearing a positively evil grin.

Hermione looked aghast. “Ron! You can’t pick on Dudley when he’s here. You’ll just get yourself and Harry into trouble.”

“Hey!” Harry exclaimed. “Why me?”

“Well...they’re still your relatives, Harry.”

“But I don’t have to live with them anymore, remember? Besides, they’re always upset with me for something I didn’t do. Maybe this time I should actually do something to justify it.”

“Harry! I can’t believe this is you talking this way. I can see Ron, but I thought you had more sense!” she huffed in exasperation. “Can you believe how disappointed Dumbledore would be? You don’t really want to get in trouble with him, do you?”

Harry bit his lip and shook his head. He saw her point. As appealing as it sounded to play a joke on Dudley within the protection of Hogwarts, it was unwise to do so.

Hermione finally looked away from Harry and turned instead to the redhead. “Well?”

Ron chucked a piece of crumpled parchment at a stone bust of Wydol the Sensible, an action which Madam Pince, thankfully, did not see. “Hermione, why did you have to go and make Prefect? It’s not fair. We can’t do anything fun anymore.”

“Ron?!”

“Fine! Fine, I won’t mess with Dudley, alright? Is that better? I can’t speak for the twins, though, so don’t blame me if they do something nasty to him.”

Hermione nodded. “Fair enough.” She glanced at her watch. “It’s time for lunch. Are you two coming?”

Harry grinned at his redheaded friend. Neither of them was about to tell Hermione that they had already had lunch down in the kitchens.

“Sure, we’re coming, Hermione,” Harry said, following Ron to the door where the Prefect stood waiting.

* * * * *

Just as the friends were leaving the Great Hall half an hour later, McGonagall approached them.

“Mr. Potter, the Headmaster needs to see you in his office.”

That could only mean one thing: the Dursleys had arrived. Hermione smiled sympathetically at Harry.

“It’ll be alright, Harry. Don’t worry.”

“Yeah, you won’t have to see them after this, mate,” Ron added.

He only forced a grin, which he erroneously thought looked light-hearted, and followed his Head of House to the stone gargoyle.

“Skittles!” she proclaimed. Harry had to bite back his laughter at seeing his stern professor say the name of a sweet with such force and substance. He followed McGonagall up the staircase wearing an amused smirk. But it died quickly when McGonagall opened the door and Harry caught a glimpse of his uncle. He, Harry’s aunt, and Dudley were all looking at something across the room. Upon closer inspection, Harry saw that this something was none other than Severus Snape. Aunt Petunia and Dudley seemed terrified of Snape, and Petunia was holding her son to her side as if to protect him from the irate wizard. Well, she was holding him as well as anyone can hold something five times their size. Vernon’s expression seemed to lie somewhere in between horror and fury. Snape, however, was looking at the Dursleys in the way that a normal person would regard a gigantic cockroach.

Harry stepped into the room, his eyes shifting back and forth from his relatives to Snape. He heard McGonagall retreat and pull the door closed behind her.

“Thank you for coming, Harry,” Dumbledore said, rising from his chair. “I wanted you to see that your relatives have made it here safely. Your warning was sufficient.”

Harry nodded.

“And I wanted you to be here when I informed the Dursleys of their living arrangements for the coming week or so.” Here he turned to the horrified family. “You will have adequate living quarters in a part of the castle known only to myself and the house elves: two bedrooms, a sitting room, a dining area, and a wash room. The house elves will provide you with three meals a day in your own quarters. As soon as your home is safe for you, you will be taken back to it. But, in the mean time, you will not venture out into other parts of the castle, for your own safety, and you will stay away from Harry.” At this, the family whipped their heads around to look at him. Aunt Petunia and Dudley still looked terrified, but Uncle Vernon was shaking with rage.

“That...maniac...wouldn’t be after us at all if it weren’t for you. We went through the trouble of raising you, of trying to make you normal, and how are we repaid? By being hunted, and pulled from our home! And I refuse to be confined anywhere. Especially not in a castle full of these...freaks...of yours!” During his tirade, Harry’s uncle had advanced upon the boy, and was now gripping his thin shoulders painfully. But just when Harry was wishing he had the physical strength to pull away from his uncle’s foul breath and vice-like grip, the beefy man let go. He had to. One could not hold on to something if one had no arms.

Harry’s eyes widened, and he looked up to see Snape standing beside him, his wand pointed at Uncle Vernon. The man was wearing a deeper scowl than Harry had ever seen on his face before.

“Your limbs will be returned to you once you have learned to use them properly,” he hissed through clenched teeth. Uncle Vernon was breathing hard. “If you ever lay a finger on Harry again, I assure you, I will know about it, and it will not be pleasant for you.”

Uncle Vernon’s skin was steadily becoming more colorful. “If you are insinuating that I beat this boy...”

Snape shook his head, and stepped right into Vernon’s personal space, wand raised. “Abuse doesn’t have to be physical, Dursley. Don’t think I don’t know what you’ve been doing to this child for the past fourteen years, when you were supposed to be caring for him. He did nothing wrong, Dursley. Any trouble you are in now, you have brought upon yourself.”

Suddenly, Uncle Vernon’s eyes grew, and he gasped a shattering breath. He stumbled backwards, tripping over the rug. “It’s you...you’re him...” He attempted to scoot away, then sit up, but gave up when he realized how difficult either task would be, considering the absence of his arms.

Snape’s eyes narrowed. “What are you going on about?” With a flick of his wand, Snape threw the floundering mass of Muggle back into his chair.

Vernon no longer looked afraid. His tone turned accusing. “You’re that mad man from London. You’re the freak who harassed my Dudley when he was trying to defend himself from that spoiled brat of yours!” he spat, pointing his shoulder stub toward Harry.

Snape opened his mouth to retaliate, but found the silence filled not by his own voice, but from a shrieking allegation, courtesy of Petunia Dursley.

“That was you?! I recognized you the moment you set foot in our house today. I knew you had been one of my sister’s special school friends. But I had no idea that you were the mad man they saw in London twelve years ago. Why...my poor Duddy-kins came home with a story about a crazy man dressed all in black, and making his cousin’s glasses fly.” Dudley had turned a deep red at being called “Duddy-kins” in public, but his mother paid him no mind. “The nerve you had, scaring a child that way...”

Snape glided smoothly over to Petunia. Using his wand he turned her chin upward to look into his face, then he stooped so close to her that she could make out every crease in his care-worn skin. “Do you know what the Dark Arts are, Petunia?” he whispered. The room was so quiet, however, that not one word escaped anyone’s ears.

She shook her head warily.

“Oh, they are fascinating,” he continued. “You see, they are feared by most in the wizarding world, but they can be quite useful...especially for purposes of...shall we say...exotic punishment.” Then, Snape just stood there, looking into her unblinking eyes. He did not continue until she began to tremble. “Do you know what I can do with Dark magic, Petunia? Do you know what sort of things it gives me the power to do?”

She vocalized something that sounded suspiciously like a bird being squeezed by an over-eager child.

“Then be glad that I didn’t give you that opportunity twelve years ago.” He leaned in closer, and began tapping his wand against the woman’s chin. “Now, if you wish to remain blissfully ignorant about the Dark Arts, then I suggest you go quietly to the living quarters that the Headmaster has so graciously set up for you. If you find them inadequate, then perhaps my sitting room cupboard would better suit you.” When Snape finally straightened, Harry noticed that his aunt had received a shower during Snape’s lecture. He was careful to hide his grin.

“When you are safely locked in your quarters, your limbs will be returned to you,” the Potions Master hissed at Vernon, before flying out the door.

Dumbledore cleared his throat. “Well, that was certainly enlightening,” he said, smiling at Harry. A moment later, Dobby and another house elf appeared in the room. “Please escort the Dursley family to their living quarters.”

“Yes sir, absolutely sir, right away sir,” they chanted in various combinations. A moment later, both house elves and all three Dursleys disappeared from the room with a “pop!”

The Headmaster turned to Harry. “I want you to know, Harry, that we did everything we could to take you from the Dursleys earlier, but until now it has been the safest place for you.”

“I understand, Professor Dumbledore,” he said, slightly taken aback. He had expected the Headmaster to say something about Snape. But then again, the Headmaster rarely did what anyone expected him to do.

The Headmaster sat down and motioned Harry into a seat. “Now...you must have a lot on your mind, dear boy. Is there anything I can help you with?”

Harry frowned and chewed on his lip. He did have a lot on his mind, and most of it was about Snape. He was having more trouble now than before reconciling what he knew about his cruel professor, and his friend, Tiros, into the same person. They just couldn’t be the same person. Yet, Snape had defended Harry here today...

“Harry,” Dumbledore began, his kind eyes twinkling with concern. “I’ve known Severus since he was a child, and I have been through more with him than you can imagine. If you are confused about him, I can help you.”

Harry sighed. He really didn’t want to tell anyone what he was thinking; it was his problem, after all. But if Dumbledore really could help, what harm was in it? Other than hurting his own pride, of course. But he had certainly done worse before...

He took a deep breath. “Well...you see Professor...they’re so different, I mean, Snape is so different as a teacher than he used to be as Tiros, or even how he was just now. How can he be such a b...so cruel in class, and then expect me to trust him? He just uses everything I tell him against me.” Harry knew he sounded whiny, but at the moment he couldn’t have cared less.

Dumbledore regarded Harry a moment before answering, as if trying to decide the best tactic. “Severus is human, Harry. He has made serious mistakes in the past, as you know, and he will probably make many more in the future.” He frowned, and the twinkle in his eye was suddenly absent. “I won’t lie to you. He has many enemies on both sides of this war. Too many. Unless we find a way to protect him, he isn’t going to survive long. But don’t let that keep you from him, Harry. If you become too afraid of getting hurt, you will never live life to its fullest.”

Harry chewed the inside of his cheek. That little bit of reasoning did make sense. He had to admit as much. But it still didn’t give Snape the excuse to be such a bastard to him.

“Harry, look at me.”

Harry looked.

“Severus never meant to hurt you. He was only trying to survive. You are not aware of how many Death Eaters’ children attend this school, my boy, or you would never want to leave your dormitory.” Here he leaned in. “And not all of them are in Slytherin. Therefore, Severus has no choice but to appear to loathe you, or he would be dead already. Death Eaters have no loyalty towards each other, and neither do most of their children. If Severus slips even once, Harry, it would be a death sentence for him.”

Harry sat very still. He had looked down during Dumbledore’s explanation and refused to look up again. This explanation had come as a complete shock to him. It made so much sense. Yet, Harry was still so angry, and he couldn’t understand why. He missed Tir...no...Severus’s presence in his life more than he cared to admit, even if that presence was from far away. When he thought of everything they had shared together over the years, it seemed perfectly logical for Harry to run straight to the dungeons and make-up with the man. But as soon as his thoughts shifted to the man behind the letters, the reality of it, Harry could feel nothing but seething anger, and his pain at being betrayed...having his trust violated. But Dumbledore had given him a perfectly good explanation for this. It would have made perfect sense, had Harry himself not been the one involved. But as it stood, Harry couldn’t help thinking that Snape could have been a little more considerate...

“Harry?”

The boy’s head snapped up.

“Harry, you don’t have to tell me, but I do want you to think about something.”

“Yes, Professor?”

“I want you to think about how you felt about ‘Tiros’ before you found out his true identity.”

Harry thought. He thought back to his earlier childhood, before Hogwarts. “Tiros” had been his only friend. Harry had trusted him with everything, and the man had always managed to make him feel better. He had constantly promised Harry that the future would be better. Harry didn’t know how he knew, but he had always believed him. And, truth be told, he had been right. Despite the hardships, Harry’s life had got significantly better since he started attending Hogwarts. He had friends, he had a wonderful godfather...

Then Harry realized part of what was bothering him. Snape and Sirius loathed each other. If Harry got close to Snape, then what would happen to his relationship with Sirius? He adored Sirius. The man was like a favorite uncle to him, or maybe like a big brother who liked getting into mischief. Even so, he was very protective of Harry, and had risked a lot for him. He couldn’t jeopardize that. He just couldn’t.

But what about Snape then? According to Dumbledore, he had risked a lot too, even if he had been a bit of a bastard along the way. And...Harry had really adored Tiros. He seemed to understand all of Harry’s problems perfectly. So...how could that wonderful person be Snape?

Not for the first, nor the last, time, Harry wished he could be just a normal teenaged wizard with normal teenaged problems.

“Professor, what about Sirius? I mean to say...Snape and Sirius hate each other, and I don’t want to lose Sirius...”

“Ah...” Dumbledore shifted in his chair, and adjusted his half moon spectacles. “Harry, Severus and Sirius are still very immature when it comes to the other, but they have grown since their school days. Sirius knows the truth about who Tiros is...” He held up his hand when Harry started to protest. “He found out the night before you did, Harry, and convinced Severus that he should tell you as well. Before they had their...er...civilized...conversation, however, they did get into a fight.”

‘That explains the bruise, then,’ Harry thought.

“Harry, whatever you decide, it is going to take some adjustment, for all three of you. But Sirius will support whatever decision you make. Please don’t let that worry you.”

Harry nodded. He wasn’t any closer to a decision now than he had been, but he really did want Sirius’s support in whatever happened. He hoped Dumbledore was right.

“Harry, if that is all, then I believe those friends of yours are waiting for you downstairs,” Dumbledore said with a smile.

Harry stood. He knew a dismissal when he heard one. He smiled at the Headmaster and headed for the door. But just as he was turning the knob, Dumbledore spoke again.

“My door is always open, Harry.”

“I know, Professor,” he answered, turning part of the way back around. “Thank you.”

Growing up the way I did, I had gotten quite used to seeing the more forsaken members of the wizarding world. The poor, moneyless and forgotten...the squibs, abandoned by ashamed relatives...the half-blooded dark creatures, shunned by all...but most of all, the little faces...broken, hurting faces of children, abandoned to their own devices...betrayed by those who should have been there for them.

And never in my life did I imagine that I would one day see that same look on the face of the Boy-Who-Lived.

Yet, that is the face that has been watching me ever since that fateful Saturday afternoon, when I had told him that the man in whom he had been confiding all these years, was the same man that had been making his time at Hogwarts as miserable as possible.

I nearly didn’t make it through the double class on Monday morning, and I actually have Mr. Longbottom to thank for keeping my sanity: Harry could not watch me, or I him, if Longbottom’s cauldron was spewing a botched aging potion.

But there would be no such luck this dreary Thursday morning. Longbottom was still in the hospital wing, and the rest of the class was taking notes on the precision of potion brewing, as punishment for Longbottom’s absent-mindedness.

If only Harry would actually take the notes, instead of just staring at me. Normally, I would simply hiss at him to get to work, and take some house points. But I simply could not bring myself to do that to him today, at least as long as the Slytherins paid no attention to us. Instead, I pretended to grade essays, my thoughts all the while on Harry...

My head shot up, on instinct, when I heard a gasp and the sound of a body falling from the back of the room. I was used to this sort of thing happening in my classroom, but normally the students were brewing potions when it happened, not just scratching away aimlessly with their quills.

However, I did not need to listen to the class’s hysterics to find out what the problem was.

Harry was having another vision.

I hurried to the back of the room and barraged through the circle of concerned and curious students. Harry was writhing on the ground and clutching his scar, moaning in pain and occasionally uttering something unintelligible. I watched, helpless, trying not to look as terrified as I felt.

It ended abruptly five minutes later. Harry lay on the floor a little bit longer, gasping for air. When he finally sat up, his eyes went straight to Draco Malfoy. He must still have been in a daze, because he started rambling, desperately, “Don’t go tonight, Draco. They’re going to hurt you...”

I looked at Draco, careful to avoid betraying any emotion. He shrugged at me, but he wasn’t so adept at pulling on a mask. It was clearly written in his expression: he knew something.

Turning back to Harry, I bent down and pulled him up roughly. His legs didn’t want to support him.

“Mobilicorpus,” I muttered, my wand pointed at the dazed boy. Then I rounded on his friend.

“Granger! Get the Headmaster and tell him to meet me in the hospital wing,” I spat. “The rest of you are dismissed.” I swept from the room, dragging Harry with me, before my other students could even blink.

I went as quickly as possible to the hospital wing, glancing every few seconds at the limp boy floating along beside me. He still looked shocked. I wanted to talk to him about what he had seen, but it seemed I would not get the chance. Surely, he would be alright within the hour. But even if he consented to tell me anything, which I doubted, I couldn’t talk to him in the hospital wing: Longbottom was there. I only hoped that Albus would be able to get it out of him later. Merlin knows what could have shocked the boy so much...

“Poppy!” I bellowed once we neared the hospital wing. “Poppy!”

She came skittering out of the room, looking extremely annoyed. Apparently she hadn’t forgiven me yet for yelling at her in the dungeons.

“Oh, what is it Sever...oh!”

Good Poppy.

She bounced over to us, and took over the levitation charm from me. I followed her into the hospital wing and watched as she lowered Harry into a bed. He looked like he was beginning to wake up. I wanted more than anything to sit by the bed and ask him what had shocked him so much, but I couldn’t. Longbottom would see...

For good measure, I shot the squib-like child a glare he didn’t deserve. He turned away and looked ready to vomit. Let him. If he had to go to the washroom I would be able to talk to Harry alone.

No such luck this time, though. At that instant, the Headmaster walked through the door, with Granger at his heals. She looked truly concerned, but she kept stealing curious glances at me...sizing me up, testing me...Perhaps Harry had told her, then, who I am. This should have provided me with some relief. Granger was a rational girl, and should have been able to convince Harry of my good intentions.

But for some reason, I couldn’t stand to look her in the eye.

I had hurt her best friend deeply, no matter how good my intentions were. I had lied to him and betrayed him, and she was ready to protect him at all costs.

I suddenly felt extremely out of place. I made my way to the door, intent on getting away from the scrutinizing eyes, but that, too, was not meant to be.

“Severus, please stay while I question Harry,” Albus requested firmly. “Ms. Granger, if you would please wait out in the hall. You may see Harry as soon as we are finished with him.”

The girl nodded her frizzy head and, with one last glance at me, vacated the room. Albus gestured to me, then, to come up to Harry’s bed. The boy’s eyes were glued to mine, calculating me, as Albus pulled the curtain closed and cast an eavesdropping charm.

“Harry,” Albus began, and Harry’s head whipped towards him. “You had another vision in Potions?”

He nodded, throwing a quick glance in my direction.

“Can you tell us about it?”

Harry’s eyebrows furrowed, and he opened his mouth. He closed it again a few seconds later, and looked down at his lap.

This was ridiculous. He was probably still too shaken by what he saw to form a coherent sentence about it. Albus should have made sure he was alright before forcing him to say anything.

“Harry,” I said softly. He jerked his head up, looking vaguely horrified. I decided to ignore that, otherwise I would not be able to talk to him. “Do you need a calming potion?”

He shook his head vigorously. Right.

“Poppy!” I bellowed, pulling the curtain aside. She looked up from tending to a terrified Longbottom. “Calming potion!”

The round woman waved her wand, and within seconds the potion floated into my hands. With a final vicious sneer at Longbottom, I stepped back inside the curtain.

“Drink, Harry,” I ordered, putting the potion into the boy’s hands. He looked from me, down to the vial he clutched, and back to me again.

“Re...really..Professor...I’m f..f...fine...”

“You’re not fine, and don’t think I don’t know it. Drink the potion, Harry, then explain what you saw.”

Without taking his eyes from me, he downed the potion, and handed me the empty vial. It vanished with a wave of my wand.

“Now...what did you see?”

Harry sat silently, staring at his lap. After several minutes, Albus broke the silence.

“Harry, do you want Severus to step out? Would that make you more comfortable?”

I refrained from strangling the old man right then and there, and instead glared icily at him. Why would he suggest such a thing? Some ally he made...What if Harry really did want me to leave?

My fears were allayed, however, when Harry looked me straight in the eye and said in a desperate whisper, “He’s going to mark Draco.”

My eyes grew. Surely he didn’t mean...

“Harry, did you actually see...”

He nodded, his eyes pleading with me, as if I could erase it from his memory.

If only I could take that experience from him...but I wouldn’t dare Obliviate my boy. Not this boy...

“Harry, I wish I could make you forget what you saw. But it is out of the question for reasons that you may not understand. If you need to talk about it...”

He started to shake his head, but his look of shock slowly melted into horror. I barely heard him whisper, “Does every Death Eater...”

I shut my eyes. He did not have to finish his question to make me understand what he meant. I nodded, “Every last one.”

I opened my eyes to see that his face had taken on a combination of pity, sorrow, terror, and disgust. I had to turn away. That expression was the reason that I hadn’t told Albus what happened when Death Eaters were inducted. I did not want him to look at me that way. But it seemed now that I would have to explain it to him.

Without taking my eyes from the wall, I said, “We need to talk, Headmaster.”

He nodded. “I should say so...Harry, you are excused from the rest of your classes today. I will have Madam Pomfrey give you a Dreamless Sleep potion.”

He nodded. “Yes, Professor.”

Dumbledore put a hand on the boy’s shoulder, and stepped outside the curtain. I started to follow, but turned instead back to Harry.

“Tell no one else what you saw, Harry. Please. That’s very important.”

He nodded solemnly.

“But if you need to talk, I’m he...”

“I’m fine, Professor.”

I sighed. I was beginning to doubt that I would ever get my boy back now. He was angry, hurt...and now, repulsed by me. Without another word, I swept from the ward.

* * * * *

“Alright,” Albus began once we were seated in his office. “Please feel free to explain.”

I stared intently at Fawkes, who was, at the moment, lazily preening his feathers.

“Severus?”

Again, I ignored him. If I told him, he would lose any respect he had for me.

He sighed. “Harry saw Voldemort marking Draco, did he not?”

I nodded.

“Do we know if it has happened yet?”

“It has not. Right after Harry awoke from his vision, he told Draco not to go to the meeting tonight. I assume it will all happen then.”

“Severus...what aren’t you telling me? There is something. It was in Harry’s eyes before and it is in yours now.”

I took a deep breath. Fine, Albus, but you asked for it. “Albus, there is a reason why I have never told you exactly what happens at marking ceremonies. When Voldemort inducts new members into the fold, he marks them, of course, but then...well, he allows his other Death Eaters to engage in some...play time with them. Voldemort takes the inductee’s wand, and the others are allowed to do whatever they want with the newcomer. Whatever they want.”

Albus shut his eyes, an action which I welcomed. This way, I could not see his disappointment. “The er, nicer ones usually put newcomers under the Cruciatus curse until they pass out. But, the vast majority of them are more perverse than sadistic...” I leaned in closer “...which is no mean feat.”

“Severus...” he breathed, but then apparently opted for a different line of questioning, because he continued, “And, Lucius would allow this to happen to Draco?”

“Lucius has no control over the situation. Draco is not a stupid boy, and Voldemort knows it. He wants to take him now, while he’s young and...to some extent, impressionable. Now, I believe that Voldemort would excuse Lucius from actually engaging in any torture, but...I can’t be sure of that either.”

“Severus, when you were inducted...”

I nodded before he could finish. I didn’t want to hear it.

His voice took on a slightly sterner tone. “And when there were new inductees, you were...”

“...one of the few who chose to perform the curse. Even in the beginning, when I believed in Voldemort’s ideals, I could not bring myself to violate one of my peers.”

“Even though they would have done it to you?”

I looked away.

Albus sighed. “That’s because you were never like them. Not at heart, Severus.”

Hmpf. “I was, Albus, and you know it. Those people I killed with out a wink of remorse...”

“You came back...”

He had to do it. He had to start pitying me. Didn’t he realize that it only made me feel more guilty?

I had to change the subject. “I will probably have to go tonight, and I will have to put Draco under the curse. In a round-about way, try to make sure Poppy has potions ready for the boy. No one can know that he will be marked, or what else has been done to him.” I made for the door. “And console Harry when he wakes up. He won’t listen to me. Good day, Albus.”

* * * * * 

“Luciussss, I expect you to have Draco here promptly this evening. I assume he has devised a way of getting out of the castle?”

“Yes my lord. He is a Prefect. If he says he’s on Prefect business, he is unlikely to be stopped.”

“Good. Because if he were to fail to show up, Lucius, you would both be begging for Azkaban once I got through with you.”

“Yes my lord.”

“Now, if Draco does his mission correctly...and he will if he is marked as my servant...we will need to guard Godricstown. I want you to put the Death Eaters on rotation there: about fifteen or so at a time. Fudge will not pose any trouble, and any measly forces Dumbledore sends in will be no match for fifteen of you. Understood?”

“Of course my lord,” Lucius acquiesced piously. “Er...my lord, shall I include Severus in the rotations?”

“Yes, but keep it to a minimum. I do not want his absences to arouse Dumbledore’s suspicions.”

“Yes lord.”

“Now, after tonight, you will be on your own for a time. I must make alliances with the giants and vampires before Dumbledore can get to them. I will likely be gone for an entire month, but no one else must know this.”

“I understand, my lord, of course.”

“I have selected a small band of new recruits to kill Potter’s aunt and uncle. They will attack tonight. If they do it correctly, it will distract what little supporters Dumbledore has. They will be too concerned with events in Little Whinging to worry about anything inside Hogwarts.”

Lucius dropped to his knees. “You are wise, my lord.”

“Go now, Lucius. Get that boy of yours here.”

* * * * *

Draco opened his eyes and glanced around at his surroundings. His father had just apparated with him into a little town. A very empty town. Strange. It didn’t seem like a good place for a Death Eater meeting. Perhaps something unusual was going to happen tonight? After all, Potter’s babbling this morning had been quite unnerving...

Shrugging mentally, Draco looked up at his father, who nodded his head towards an old door, crafted of greyed wood.

The man grabbed his son by the shoulder and led him forcefully through the door and into a pub. One by one, other Death Eaters began to arrive. Draco looked around at all their faces, and found he recognized most of them as being friends of his father. Finally, Draco spotted the man he had doubted would show up. Severus Snape took one look at his student and turned quickly away, seemingly to speak with Goyle about his severely incompetent offspring. But Draco had a feeling that that wasn’t the reason at all. What if Snape found out what Potter had been babbling about? How bad could it be that he would avoid talking to Draco? Was Voldemort going to mark him? The Death Eaters were a whiny and needy bunch, but they had power. Would becoming one of them really be so bad?

At that moment, Voldemort himself materialized in the center of the smoky room. The Death Eaters immediately moved into their circular formation, with Draco standing in front of Lucius.

Voldemort gazed around the circle, checking for absences. When he seemed satisfied, he turned to Draco and beckoned. Draco stepped up to him, looking into his snake-like eyes.

“Kneel.”

Draco knelt.

“You want to serve me, do you not? You want to do right by the Pure Blood world?”

“Yes sir.”

“No,” Voldemort snapped loudly enough to make several of the Death Eaters jump. “Never ‘sir.’ You will address me either as ‘my lord,’ ‘Lord Voldemort,’ or ‘Master.’”

Draco blushed. “Oh, I’m sorry my lord. I did not know.”

“Hmpf. This one talks back. Ah...but you will learn. You will learn all our ways before long.”

Before long? So was Voldemort really going to...

“Hold out your left arm and pull up the sleeve of your robe,” he commanded.

Shaking, Draco did as instructed. So it was really happening...

Voldemort clutched Draco’s arm in his skeletal fingers, and pointed his wand to the boy’s left forearm.

“Morsmordre Proximia.”

Pain. Burning pain shot up his arm and spread throughout his body. He felt an overwhelming urge to please his Master, to make real his every desire, to perform his every request without hesitation. He would be rewarded handsomely. Good servants always were. Draco wanted to be one of them.

But just as soon as the feelings came, they disappeared once more, and Draco was left feeling empty and alone. Voldemort finally released his grip.

“Hand me your wand, boy, and stand up.”

Draco complied, and didn’t protest when Voldemort pocketed the wand. The Dark Lord looked the boy hard in the eyes now, and leaned down toward him.

“Now, Draco, do you know what happens when new members are added to the fold?”

“No, my lord.”

Voldemort smiled wryly. “Playtime.”

“P...playtime, my lord?”

Voldemort only smiled mirthlessly and disapparated. What was going on? Why would Voldemort leave his servants un-watched like this? Draco looked back and forth between his Professor and his father. Snape was tapping his wand hard against his hand, watching Draco with what must have been either want or shock. Neither option sounded particularly appealing. Draco’s father, on the other hand, turned and swept from the room without even acknowledging his son. Was Draco supposed to go with him?

Draco decided that he should follow his father. It was about time for him to get back to Hogwarts, anyway. But before he had taken two steps, several of the Death Eaters took hold of his robes.

“And just where do you think you’re going, little man? Did you not hear? It’s playtime.”

The Death Eater tore the front of Draco’s robes open, and eased the black material off of his shoulders. Another Death Eater tore the back of his jumper. Finally, the other Death Eaters joined in, poking and prodding, trying to help rid the boy of his clothes.

Suddenly, Draco knew exactly what playtime meant to the Death Eaters. And Potter had seen it all...

“Welcome to the fold, little man,” someone whispered in his ear.

Draco screamed a cry for help. But he knew no one would come.