"Longbottom! Just when I thought your skills couldn`t get any worse...Twenty points from Gryffindor...for your carelessness," Snape sneered. "And another ten, Granger, for not showing him how to do this correctly."

Harry glared at the Potion Master´s back. Term had started only one month ago, and already Snape had taken more points from Gryffindor than he had in their entire first year. And most of those points, he took from Harry. Hermione insisted that this was because he had to keep up face if he was going to be a spy for Dumbledore. He was only doing it to save his life and theirs. But she just didn`t understand. As of yet, Ron and Hermione didn´t know what Snape had done. Harry still hadn´t told them what had gone on that day in the Headmaster´s office...

Harry couldn´t help thinking that, after what Snape did, the Potions Master would be a little bit more lenient in his insults toward him. Any respectable person would be. But if anything, Snape was even more ruthless and cruel than anyone had imagined he could be. However, Harry did notice one...positive...difference.

Snape never met his eyes.

Harry took this to mean that Snape was at least human enough to know that he should be ashamed of himself. Too bad he wasn´t human enough to do anything about it.

"Potter, if you´ve finished your inspection of my cloak it would do you well to return your attention to your potion. Twenty points will be taken from Gryffindor for your idleness."

Malfoy and his cronies sniggered. Harry seethed.

Finally, nearly an hour later, Snape told the class to pour samples of their completed potions into labeled phials for him to grade. Harry had placed his phial to one side, and was going to rinse his cauldron, when he heard Snape call his name.

"Potter, a word in my office. Now. The rest of you are dismissed as soon as you have cleaned your messes."

Harry set his cauldron back onto the desk with a little too much force, causing some of the potion to slosh out of it. He cursed softly.

"It´s alright Harry, we`ll clean it."

"Thanks Ron, Hermione."

Hermione gave him a sympathetic nod as he turned from his friends and sauntered to the waiting Potions Master. Snape stood in front of the closed office door, staring at Harry, but refusing again to look into his eyes. Instead, his gaze rested right above them, on the scar at present being hidden by his bangs. As Harry continued to approach, Snape stood absolutely still, just watching, until Harry was right in front of him. Then, the Potions Master turned around abruptly and unlocked his door, motioning silently for the boy to pass through ahead of him. Harry did so, and went to stand in front of one of the chairs facing the desk. Snape swept in after him, slamming the door shut and putting a silencing charm on it.

"Sit down, Potter."

"I would rather stand, Professor."

"Sit...down...Potter," he repeated, articulating each syllable with the chill of an icicle.

Harry glared at the Potions professor, who was now staring intently at the wall above his student´s head. Harry decided it was best to comply with the man´s request, if only to get out of there sooner. He dropped into the seat behind him.

Snape tore his gaze away from the stone and focused it instead on his wand, held by its tips between his two index fingers. Harry noticed with vague curiosity that, from only a few feet away, it wasn´t the tidy, polished wand he would have expected his teacher to have. Instead it looked rather used...and burned. But Harry supposed that even this impeccable man must have had potions accidents before.

Then Harry kicked himself when a slight wave of nausea brought with it the memory that, yes, this man had seriously botched at least one potion in his existence. And Harry wished that he could forget about it.

"Potter," Snape broke the silence, still not looking up from his wand. But then he stopped, seemingly searching for words. This caused Harry to break out into a cold sweat. What did Snape think he had done? The git was usually so eloquent. It must be really bad.

"You..." he began again as his eyes flickered briefly up to Harry´s face, and promptly returned to his wand. He took a deep breath and retreated behind his mask, staring at Harry`s scar.

"You ought to be more careful, Potter. And pay attention in my class. Next time, it won´t just be house points that you lose. Now, get out."

It was anticlimactic at best, which was what angered Harry so much about it. He leveled such a glare at his professor that, had Snape been looking, the man would have choked on his own breath. Harry stood up and stormed out of the office, completely missing the crestfallen look in the posture of his most hated teacher.

* * * * *

"I did it again. Or rather, didn´t do it again."

Albus sighed as he gazed at his dejected friend. He had hoped that Severus would be able to tell Harry the truth this time. They both knew that it would just get harder as time went on. And sooner or later, Severus would break under the pressure.

"Tell me what happened."

Severus searched the old man´s eyes looking for who-knows-what. It was a skill he had developed over time, to protect himself. Study the adversary, and make him think you are evaluating his worth. It can buy valuable time.

But Albus was hardly an adversary. And he probably knew the truth already, or would find out soon enough, so it was pointless to carry out the exercise with him. In fact, the old man remained unfazed and faintly smiling. It exasperated the Potions Master to no end.

"What`s to tell? I couldn`t do it. Plain as that. End of story." He let out a loud breath, and shook his head. "So instead I yelled at him to pay more attention in class. That and I took twenty points from him for being idle."

Albus only kept smiling. If Severus weren´t so fond of the old man, he would have choked him. Instead, he settled for reproaching him in a decidedly disrespectful manner.

"Stop grinning! Nothing about this is funny. You always belittle everything I say to you, Albus. If my petty problems are not worth your concern, then say so now, and I will cease to bother you with them."

But as Severus looked into his friend´s eyes, he wished he had eaten his words before they had had the chance to escape.

Dumbledore had never looked so old. His smile disintegrated as the acid hit his ears. His mind attempted to remedy the situation, to whisper something soothing, defensive, even cautionary...but his voice utterly failed him. As omniscient as he prided himself in being, this came as a horrific surprise to him. He was certain that he always provided Severus with the help he needed. He was always there for him, and indeed for the whole school, if there was need. At least he had always thought so. But doubt was slowly creeping into the deep recesses of his mind. He never meant to make anyone feel petty, unworthy of his attention. Especially not Severus. He was aware that sometimes he had to rush people out of his office. But this was simply because he was a busy man. He had many people to help, and only so much time to do it in. He hardly slept anymore because he spent so much time tending to other people´s problems. But still, he always tried to make everyone feel welcome when they talked to him, hence all the smiling. He thought it would put them more at ease. But for some reason, it enraged his friend. And his subconscious informed him that others likely felt the same way.

This thought alone squeezed the very life-force out of him. He couldn´t have moved then had Voldemort himself pounced on his back.

"Albus?"

Though he was aware that Severus had spoken to him, he could not make himself respond. The younger man got up from his chair, an uncharacteristic look of concern gracing his features, and walked briskly to the Headmaster´s side of the desk. When Albus didn´t respond, Severus put his fingers under the old man´s chin to turn his face upward.

"I apologize, Albus. I was out of line. I had no right to speak to you that way. I know that your intentions are good. You only need to...revise your methods...a little."

The invisible force released Dumbledore´s voice.

"Severus, believe me. I never meant to convey to you that you are unworthy. I thought I..."

"Sshh..." he shut his eyes tight. "Never mind that. I told you I understand," he added, opening his eyes slowly and lowering his hand. "We have things to discuss." He pulled away from the desk and paced over to the far wall, stopping in front of a picture of Marva the Magnificent, who was, at the moment, picking something rather unpleasant from her teeth. Severus scowled at her, but made no further move to discuss anything with the Headmaster.

"You weren´t at dinner, Severus. I presume you were...er...testing the potion?"

"Since I finished my last class this afternoon, yes," he answered, unconsciously rubbing his stomach.

"I believe we need tea and sandwiches," the Headmaster offered.

Severus almost smiled. "Actually, I am inclined to agree with you."

The Headmaster smiled and conjured the refreshments. He then proceeded to pour both cups of tea, and handed one to Severus as he sat across from him. Severus lifted the cup to his mouth. But instead of taking a drink, he simply sat, eyes closed, inhaling the steam and allowing it to soothe him.

Eventually he put the cup down, balancing it on his lap, and summoned a sandwich to himself. He bit into it. It was good, despite the fact that the chicken in it was likely leftover from dinner.

Albus allowed his friend to eat the first sandwich in silence, and didn´t prompt him to continue his report until he reached for the second.

"So what happened to the mice then, Severus?"

The Potions Master froze with his sandwich halfway to his mouth. He looked suddenly very annoyed.

"They´re still alive, Albus," and took a bite before he could be forced to elaborate.

His attempt failed miserably.

"Could you elaborate on that?"

"No," he mumbled through a mouthful of chicken.

The Headmaster stared incredulously, his lips parted in shock.

"No?!"

Severus looked at him a moment longer, then dropped his gaze to the sandwich in his hands as he finished chewing. He swallowed slowly and frowned.

"I can´t elaborate because I don´t fully understand what happened."

"Well you need to try, because the rest of us are not as adept as you are when it comes to potions."

"The rest of us? I only see you."

"Stop stalling. You will have to write out a report for the rest of the Order. We need to know about any progress you are making if we plan to stop what Voldemort is planning to do. And if you can´t elaborate on the results of your experiment, it is hopeless."

Severus stared at the Headmaster through narrowed eyes. Albus had never been so impatient with him before. He took another bite of his sandwich and chewed thoughtfully. How could he explain what he had seen? Ever since he had encountered the potion from Harry´s dream, he had been studying the ingredients and their individual effects on each other. He had hoped that this would tell him what the final potion did without having to make and test it. No such luck, of course. The ingredients didn´t do anything, except occasionally blow up, unless all of them were together. So he had been forced to brew the potion, and acquire lab mice on which to test it. The results thoroughly confused him. So he kept watching carefully the dreams Harry sent him, in hopes that they would contain some clue as to what the potion was doing. But all Harry dreamed about were Severus´s own meetings with Voldemort and several Death Eater raids. Granted, they had saved many lives, including his countless times, but they didn´t offer any help with the potion.

Severus swallowed the mouthful of chicken, aware that the Headmaster´s eyes were burning through the top of his head. He looked up once more. He would just have to tell exactly what he thought.

"Headmaster, as you know, the combination of ingredients used in the potion has caused me quite a bit of puzzlement."

He expected the older man to nod, or otherwise acknowledge his understanding. Instead, he narrowed his eyes at Severus and seemed to expect an explanation.

Severus sighed loudly. The poor man really was bad at potions. He would just have to explain again.

"Unicorn tears, like all parts of a unicorn, are sacred, pure substances. They are never used in potions meant to harm anyone. On the other hand, hydra scales and eye of basilisk are present only in potions associated with Dark magic, most of which are intended to harm people. The combination of them in the same potion baffled me. I expected it to be an unstable concoction at best. But nonetheless I brewed it, and fed it to the mice. And they are indeed still alive, Albus, at least biologically. They still have a pulse, still draw breath. And when I attempted to feed them with a bottle they could still suckle. But it was almost as if..." he had to pause. It felt strange thinking what he was about to say, and he knew he would feel stupid saying it. But he had to. It was the best explanation he could come up with. "It was almost as if they had lost their personalities. They could still use the parts of their brains that kept them alive. But anything more sophisticated than that, anything at all...personal...they lost completely. They are really no more than muggle robots now."

Dumbledore was still watching with narrowed eyes.

"But why would Voldemort want to have a potion like that? Wouldn´t he be more content just killing the people?"

"Yes, most likely he would."

Dumbledore scowled. He was losing his patience fast.

"Then why in the name of Merlin..."

"I don´t know! I don´t know, Headmaster," Severus cut in. He put his food back on the desk and stood. "I don´t know what the potion is really doing, and I don´t know what Voldemort wants with it. All I know is that it took something from those mice which I don´t fully understand yet. I have brewed the potion five times now, and five times I have tested it on a different set of mice. But if it will please you, Headmaster, I will do it one more time, right now in fact, and I will get the same results. But if it will appease you, you need only ask." His voice, which had been angry enough during the tirade to make any seventh year soil his trousers, now quieted to almost a whisper. "Please, Headmaster. I am doing the best I know how."

Severus watched the older man with apprehension. The scowl had faded from his features, and he was staring at his lap. But when he said nothing, the Potions Master turned on his heel and headed for the door.

He already had his hand on the knob before a voice stopped him.

"Severus, wait. I apologize. I know you are doing your best. You always do your best for me: usually without thanks. But thank you for this, Severus. Rest tonight. Don´t test the potion again. At least not until we have more information. I don´t want you to have an accident with it and hurt yourself. We wouldn´t know how to help you."

Snape nodded curtly and opened the door.

"Are you still hungry? You did not finish your dinner."

"I´m fine," Severus answered, ignoring his stomach. He took a step out.

"Severus please. Come and finish your meal," Albus pleaded. "I promise to talk only about pleasant things."

The Potions Master surrendered. Sighing, he slammed the door shut and returned to his seat. He picked up his half-eaten sandwich and took a bite as Albus refilled both teacups.

* * * * *

"Hmm. What about..." Ron said as he frowned in concentration and brushed his quill back and forth against his chin. "I know! You can get hit by a rogue bludger, Harry! You haven´t used that one in a while. Trelawney always likes it."

Harry smiled and wrote down his friend´s suggestion. He and Ron were sitting on the common room floor, working on their Divination homework. As usual, rather than actually doing the predictions, the two boys had decided to make them up, and were having quite a good time doing it.

"What is Trelawney having you do now?" Hermione asked, scowling. She had a very low opinion of both Divination and Professor Trelawney.

"Scrying," Harry answered. "Through crystal balls."

"Would you like us to try to see your future, `Mione?" Ron said with a rather malicious grin on his face.

"Hmpf! That is such a waste of time," and with that she buried herself into Fun with Arithmancy: A Revised Edition.

Harry smiled at his studious friend. She was right about one thing. Divination did seem a waste of time, especially for him. Harry´s dreams told him more than he wanted to know about the future already. Granted, they had saved many lives. But the dreams showed him things that he wished he could erase from his memory forever. Among other things, he had seen Snape get killed and tortured countless times by now, either in a Death Eater raid, or by Voldemort himself. Harry always sent those dreams to Tiros as soon as he woke up, then went straight to Dumbledore about them. His warnings were always sufficient to keep Snape alive. But Harry suspected that sometimes it wasn´t enough for the git to escape torture. Despite everything, Harry felt sorry for him. Some days he would walk into potions and know that Snape had been at the raid or meeting that he had seen in his dream the night before. Snape did a commendable job hiding his pain, as the other Gryffindors, at least, failed to notice. But Harry knew. Somehow, he saw the haunted look in the man´s eyes that the other students couldn´t see, and felt immense sorrow for what he had to go through.

But instead of Snape being thankful to Harry for saving his life, instead of giving him a bit of a break in Potions the next day, he was more ruthless in those sessions than ever. Last week, in a Potions class the morning after a raid, Snape had taken a full 60 points from Harry alone, and a total of 100 from the Gryffindor fifth years. Thirty of these had been taken from Neville, for melting Seamus´s cauldron, and ten from Ron, for breathing too loudly. Ron had spent the next class that day, Transfigurations, speaking about Snape in very colorful terms. At one point he spoke loudly enough for McGonagall to hear him. She took ten points from him for making her ears burn. It had been an unpleasant day for all.

The strangest part about it was that Harry wished he could help Snape. He had encountered Voldemort and his Death Eaters only once in his memory, but it had been enough. The experience scared him enough to keep him awake some nights, and give him nightmares the rest of the time. He could only imagine what his teacher went through. Ron insisted that the "git" deserved everything "You-Know-Who" gave him. But Harry couldn´t make himself believe that.

He shook himself and started to go back to his Divination homework, when he felt a light breeze and looked up to see a large tawny owl flying towards him. Seconds later, it landed gracefully on his knee and stuck out its foot, waiting for Harry to remove the attached letter.

Harry obediently untied the parchment, and petted the owl´s head in thanks before it flew out of Gryffindor tower, into the inky black sky.

Harry unrolled the parchment and grinned when he saw who had sent it.

By now Ron and Hermione had forgotten their homework, and were now watching Harry expectantly.

"So who´s it from Harry? What´s it say?" Ron inquired eagerly.

Harry glanced up at his friends, still grinning and answered, "It´s from Snuffles! I´ll read it to you. Listen."

Harry glanced quickly around to make sure that no one else was listening, before turning back to the letter and reading it in a whisper.

-----Dear Harry,

How´s school been this past month? Studying hard for your O.W.L.´s? I hope Quidditch is going well. I assume you have found a new Keeper?

[Here Harry winced slightly. They were a month into the new term and still the Gryffindor team had not found a new Keeper. They had had a hard enough time electing a new Captain to replace Oliver Wood. The rest of the team had wanted Harry to be Captain, as he would be at Hogwarts for three more years and would give the team in the following two years an experienced person in the position. But Harry had refused adamantly, as had Madam Hooch, though for different reasons. Harry simply did not think that he deserved the honor, and had suggested that the Weasley twins be co-Captains. Madam Hooch didn´t think Harry should have the extra pressure on him. In the end, the Weasley twins had consented to share the responsibility between themselves. With all that going on, combined with being allowed to practice only in daylight hours, they had had no time to hold Keeper try-outs. Even McGonagall was in a rut over it.]

Anyway, Harry, I mainly wrote to tell you that I will be meeting with Dumbledore tomorrow during classes, but that I will be staying the night at Hogwarts.

[A wide smile found its way back onto Harry´s face.]

I would love to spend the afternoon and evening with you, if you´re not already busy with something. Meet me in Dumbledore´s office after your last class tomorrow. If you´d like, we´ll see if we can´t figure out what Tiros was thinking is his last letter.

`Till Tomorrow,

Snuffles-----

Harry sighed contentedly. Sirius was coming tomorrow. Harry would get to spend the entire evening with him! And Harry knew that Sirius would be able to sort out Tiros. He would know why Tiros had been so defensive of Snape in his last letter. It had baffled Harry when he first read it, but then it occurred to him that it might just be some form of respect that Tiros had for the greasy git. Still, he wanted to be sure.

"Hey Harry," said Ron, interrupting Harry´s thoughts. "What did he mean, figure out what Tiros was thinking. What did Tiros say? Did something happen? Did You-Know-Who..."

"No, Ron. Nothing happened," Harry said, interrupting his friend´s rant before it could get any more depressing. He looked back and forth between their faces. Ron´s eyebrows were stuck in the air, as if he thought that it was more likely for an elephant to send Snape a valentine, than it was for "nothing" to have happened. Hermione´s face was melted into a concerned frown that made Harry think of a hen sitting on a nest full of eggs. He grinned at the thought. He decided to change the subject, rather than have to explain the whole Godricstown affair.

"Come on, Ron. What else do we need to do for Divination?"

Ron still looked incredulous as he answered, "We have to do a crystal ball gazing for two different family members."

Harry forced a grin. "This should be interesting. Let´s do it, then."

Hermione mumbled something about "mindless drabble" and stalked off to her dormitory, knocking Crookshanks, who had been lying in her lap, to the floor.

Ron rolled his eyes. "Alright then, Harry." Then he got a positively evil look on his face. "Let´s do your cousin first."

And so the two friends spent the rest of their evening thinking of horrific things to predict for the Dursleys.

* * * * *

This time Severus actually laughed out loud. He had spent the rest of his visit with Albus listening to the old man talk about the antics of his five-year-old great-great-great-great-grandson, Patrick. He had just been telling Severus of the time that the boy´s father, Albus´s great-great-great-grandson-in-law, had got the boy action figures of Hogwarts´ four founders. Apparently, the boy had had them for less than an hour before he flushed Godric Gryffindor´s plastic head down the toilet. The incident had severely shaken his parents, even though Albus tried to assure them that it was only a phase, and would soon pass.

Severus, however, thought it was the funniest thing he had heard in a long time.

"You´re actually telling me that a Dumbledore, one of the longest lines of Gryffindor house occupants in existence, singled out the head of Godric Gryffindor, out of all the others, and tossed it into the john? Albus that´s pathetic. I thought you would take better care of your descendents," he teased through his laughter.

"Well," the older man replied quietly, keeping his gaze down, "his name isn´t Dumbledore..."

This only made Severus laugh harder. When he had calmed down enough to speak, he remarked, "A technicality. I can only imagine what the boy did to Slytherin. Did he toss it into the fireplace, perhaps?"

Albus cocked a snowy eyebrow. "It´s his favorite of the three dolls that are left, actually."

Severus resumed his laughter.

"He likes green, that´s all. Don´t read into it, Severus," Dumbledore stated matter-of-factly.

"Oh of course. I´m sure that´s it, Albus," the Potions Master replied through his guffaws.

Dumbledore raised his other eyebrow. He had been telling his friend about Patrick in hopes of cheering him up, but he hadn´t expected the stories to be this effective. Perhaps the tea Dumbledore had served relaxed the man more than usual. Whatever the case though, the Headmaster consented to go through the humiliation of being laughed at if it meant his friend could be happy for just a few minutes.

Finally, Severus´s laughter died down and he wiped the tears of mirth from his eyes. Albus lowered his eyebrows, and his slight frown was replaced by a smile.

"Well Albus, except for the fact that I´m not overly fond of five-year-olds, I would ask to meet this little descendent of yours. He will make a first-class Slytherin someday."

Still smiling, Albus replied, "Not funny, Severus."

"And what is so horrid about him being in Slytherin?"

"Oh, nothing, except his mum and dad would be in a tizzy," he teased, his smile growing.

"Very well. Torture the boy. Force him into Gryffindor," Severus replied lightly, downing the rest of his tea.

"It is time I took my leave then, Albus. I´m exhausted, and I have essays still to grade before tomorrow."

"Alright then, child. Goodnight." Then he added as an afterthought, "Oh and Severus, your written reports tend to be a little bit...how shall I put it...illegible...to the rest of us, if you write them out too quickly. So tomorrow, when you present your findings on the potion..."

"Fine, fine, Albus. I´ll write slowly and neatly so that none of you will have any reason to complain about it. Happy?"

"I always am happy with you, Severus. Goodnight."

Severus managed a small smile despite himself. "Goodnight, Albus."

* * * * *

"Homework: I want one yard about common luring methods of the Scottish kelpie, to be turned in to me next week. Class dismissed."

Professor Michael Branaugh, a rather dry and boring man, was Hogwarts´ new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. In a way, he rather reminded Harry of Professor Binns, the History of Magic teacher, in that he was very successful at lulling the class into a semi-conscious state. However, he did have one thing going for him: he was an auror, so he knew the subject he taught well. Occasionally, he even used Harry as target practice in his demonstrations. That made it exciting for all.

But today, Harry had better things to think about than dodging his teacher´s curses and hearing his classmates´ cheers. This was his last class of the day, and he was now on his way to see Sirius.

He chirped a quick "goodbye" to Ron and Hermione, and almost ran to Dumbledore´s office. Arriving at the gargoyle, he prepared himself to go through the mental list of possible passwords he had compiled to get into the Headmaster´s office. But it was unnecessary. The gargoyle leapt aside almost immediately to reveal Dumbledore´s old frame.

"Ah. There you are, Harry. We were beginning to wonder what was taking you so long," he said, winking. Harry smiled back and followed as Dumbledore led the way to his round office.

As Harry walked in, he looked around the room, anxious to see his godfather. At last he spotted a large black dog sitting next to Dumbledore´s desk, watching Harry with big puppy eyes. It smiled a doggy smile, which Harry returned. The door clicked shut behind him. With a light "pop!" the big black dog morphed into Sirius. The rugged man smiled and strode to his godson, placing a large hand on each of the boy´s slim shoulders.

"Hello Harry. How have you been?"

Harry´s smile widened. "I´m fine, Sirius. You?"

"Eh. Same old."

Dumbledore cleared his throat, and the other two turned to him looking slightly shocked. They had forgotten he was in the room.

"The two of you are welcomed to use my private quarters for your reunion, if you´d like," he said, before ushering them with amazing strength into said quarters. He excused himself by saying that he had piles of paperwork to attend to, and shut the door behind them.

Harry and Sirius blinked several times, looking back and forth between each other and the door. Sirius seemed to come out of the trance first.

"As long as I live, I will never understand that man." He gestured toward a plushy sofa sitting it the middle of the quaint sitting room. "We might as well make ourselves comfortable."

Harry nodded and sat by his godfather on the sofa. Or rather he tried to sit. But the sofa was so soft that it sucked both of them right in, refusing to let them out again.

"Reckon Dumbledore expects us to have a nice long talk."

Harry nodded weakly in response.

"Well...how about I have a look at that letter Tiros sent you?"

"Yeah, alright," Harry said, digging into his constricted pockets for the elusive parchment. He found it, eventually, and handed the crumpled mess to his godfather.

"Let´s see now..." Sirius mused as he attempted to straighten the letter. There was something oddly familiar about it...as if he had seen it before. The writing was beautiful, really. Neatly written, an art form in itself. But Sirius had never seen any of Tiros`s letters before. So why did it look so familiar? Perhaps it didn´t. Perhaps Sirius was finally losing his mind..."Ah yes. Here we are..." He paused again and cleared his throat. Might as well get on with it. "Dear Harry," he began reading aloud. "How are things for you? I know the news you heard was difficult for you, and I understand your frustration. You should have been raised by family who loved you, and I´m truly sorry that you missed that opportunity. I met your grandparents once. They were wonderful people, and they would have adored you. However, even though your Professor Snape is a bit of an arse..." and here Sirius snorted... "you should not blame him completely for what happened. He was only 19 years old at the time, and it was truly an accident. A careless one, but an accident nonetheless. He wouldn´t have hurt your grandparents on purpose, Harry, you must realize that. He may have hated your father, but he had nothing against the rest of the Potter clan..."

"He has something against me..." Harry mumbled, allowing the couch to swallow him further.

After fighting with the sofa to release his arm, Sirius patted Harry´s forearm sympathetically. He tried to say something, but thought better of it. Instead, he sighed and continued reading.

"...I hope you are coming to terms with what has happened. I know how difficult it is, but you must try to forgive, and move on. You will feel better in the end if you do. Anger only fuels hatred, after all, and hatred of your allies is no good to anyone. Keep sending me your dreams, Harry. We appear to be making small headway into the "potion" dream you sent me, although it seems to raise more questions than answers. I will be busy for the coming months, until this particular problem is sorted out. But don´t let that keep you from writing to me, if you need me. I will do everything in my power to help you. Always, Tiros."

Sirius sighed. He really wished that Tiros would allow Harry to meet him. He seemed to truly care about the boy, and Harry needed someone like that who could be around for him. Sirius, of course, did everything he could to help the boy. But being a fugitive made it impossible for Sirius to give Harry everything he needed.

"So...what do you think Sirius?"

Sirius turned to his godson, looking slightly perplexed. "Wha...?"

"About Tiros...the letter...defending Snape..."

"Oh, yes of course. Well...the only thing I can think of, Harry, is that he has some sort of...respect...for the slimy git. He is a spy after all. A bastard too, but at least he´s on our side."

Harry looked at him incredulously.

Sirius chuckled mirthlessly. "Oh don´t misunderstand, Harry. I hate him. Always will. I can´t say I´d mind if he were killed, except that we would lose our spy. But I have to try to get along with him, because he really is an ally, where it counts. You should try to get along with him."

Harry glared at him. "I do try! I´ve always tried to get along with him. It´s him that doesn´t want to get along with me. He hates me, Sirius, all because of some stupid grudge against my dad..."

"Sssh. It´s alright, Harry, I know. I understand." Sirius took in a long breath and let it out slowly.

A horrible thought suddenly gripped Harry. "Er...Sirius...you don´t think that Tiros is really Voldemort, do you? I mean, it would be the perfect way for him to get all our secrets..."

Sirius´s heart froze in his chest. He hadn´t even considered this possibility until now. Suppose it were true? Then they were doomed for sure. But almost as suddenly as the fear came, it dissipated once more.

"If it were possible that Tiros were really Voldemort, Dumbledore would have stopped it long ago. If Dumbledore can trust him with you, then I think we can too."

Harry nodded. Sirius grinned at him, and decided it would be prudent to change the subject.

"Now, how about you tell me how Quidditch is going?"

Harry grinned back, and launched into his story.

* * * * *

It was nearly 8 o´clock when Dumbledore poked his head in the room and announced that it was time Harry went back to his dormitory. He and Sirius had talked all afternoon and evening, without pause. A late lunch and dinner had materialized in the room for them while they talked, and the sofa had loosened it´s hold enough both times to allow them to eat.

Now the sofa spat them out onto their feet, and Dumbledore ushered them out of his sitting room.

Back in the office, Dumbledore said, "I have something to give you, Sirius, from the meeting this morning. So if you would stay a few minutes after you have bid goodbye to Harry..."

"Of course, Headmaster," Sirius replied. Then he turned to Harry. "It was a pleasure spending the day with you, Harry. Keep in touch, hmm?"

Harry smiled and nodded. Sirius pulled him into a quick hug and sent the boy on his way.

As soon as Harry disappeared from the office, Dumbledore began ruffling through one of his desk drawers.

"I made a copy of Severus´s report from this morning. I need you to get it to Arabella, since she was not able to make it to today´s meeting. It is too risky to send by owl, so I assume I can trust you to get it there safely?"

Sirius nodded, and frowned. "Professor Dumbledore, why couldn´t Arabella come? Has something happened?"

Dumbledore sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Nothing has happened yet, so far as we know. But Arabella is wary of some things that have been happening at Privet Drive. She´s seeing people there that she has never seen before. Says they shouldn´t be there. So she decided it would be wise to keep an eye on the Dursleys."

Sirius nodded and took the parchment that Dumbledore held out to him. "I´ll get this to her as quickly as possible then. Goodnight Headmaster."

"Goodnight Sirius."

Before changing back into his dog form, Sirius glanced at the report in his hands.

And nearly dropped it.

Suddenly, he knew. He had been so blind. How could he not have made the connection before?

"Something wrong, Sirius?"

The animagus whipped his head around to look at Dumbledore. "Er...no...nothing. Nothing is wrong Professor. I´ll just be on my way back to Hagrid´s hut. Goodnight."

He morphed back into a great black dog, racing through the door Dumbledore held open for him, the parchment clutched in his mouth. He would go to Hagrid´s hut now. But as soon as day broke tomorrow, he was going to kill Severus Snape.

I awoke the next morning to the sound of angry barking coming from outside the door to my private quarters. I glanced bleary eyed at the aging cuckoo clock on the wall. Thankfully, the annoying wooden bird had ceased functioning long ago, and the clock now served its time-telling function quite well. It was barely 5 o´clock in the morning. Curses, Hagrid and that mutt of his got up early. But why in the world would they be all the way down here?

I groaned and rolled slowly out of bed. I might as well see what in Merlin´s name Hagrid wanted at this ungodly hour. I picked up my long, black velvet bathrobe from it´s resting place on a chair in the corner and pulled it on. Fang was being unusually persistent...

All of a sudden the cloud of sleep lifted from my mind. Bloody hell. How could I forget? There was another dog on the premises this morning.

Sirius Black.

He had better have a good reason for depriving me of several hours of weekend sleep.

I sauntered into my sitting room, tying my bathrobe shut. I paused long enough to ready my wand with a petrifying charm before opening the front door.

Fortunately for both of us, Black did not attack me right away. Instead, he transformed back to his old self with an annoying "pop" and started whining incoherently. Stupid dog...

"You greasy bastard! How could you do this? What in the name of Merlin were you thinking? You said you cared about him! I don´t understand. To think we trusted you. To think he trusted you...only to find out that it´s...you! After all he´s been through..."

"Shut...up...Black" I hissed at him. At least that made him shut his flapper. But he was still gawking at me like a freshly caught fish. Idiot. I looked down at his hand to see the paper that he had been waving about so frantically when he first invaded my privacy. It was none other than a copy of my report from the previous day´s meeting. Why he had one, I could not know. And unfortunately, only he could tell me why he was having such a tantrum over it. In the unlikely event that it was a worthwhile reason, I decided it would be best to let him tell me.

"Now, Black, in a single, coherent sentence, what is it about my findings that so displeases you?" I asked with a scowl that would send any seasoned seventh year crying to his mother.

Black had the grace to cower slightly before he responded.

"It has nothing to do with your research, Snape. It´s about Harry."

My heart caught in my chest, though I hid it masterfully in my expression. If anything had happened to Harry...

"I don´t give a damn about Potter, Black. What of him?"

"I know who you are. I know what you´ve been doing to him since he was a little boy. The only thing I don´t know is why. You...you promised Lily that you would take care of Harry. I thought you cared about Lily. I thought that promise meant something to you, you bastard. How can you be so cruel to her child?"

I stared at him, trying to keep my breathing calm. Could he really know? Could he have found out that I am "Tiros"? His face was turning deep scarlet, I know he was struggling with himself not to strangle me with his bare hands. He must know...but how?

"Albus told you, I assume..." I offered, keeping my cold scowl intact.

"No...no he didn´t. I saw your last letter to Harry, and the handwriting was the same as the one on this report. Only you can take so much time to turn letters into an art-form," Black replied. It could have been a compliment, had he not spat it out with so much hatred.

All of a sudden, Black´s mouth started flapping like a windsock.

"Oh, what is it now?" I asked, pulling on a most vicious sneer. Was he still going to act like the same useless bastard that he has always been, even considering my position with his godson?

"What...What do you mean `Albus told me´? Does he...how...Dumbledore knows about this? ...And he still allows it?!" Black now wore an irritating look of incredulity on his face. It was actually quite unattractive, but it amused me that I could catch him so off-guard.

I smirked at him in the same way I smirk at all my little Gryffindors. It tests their courage...and hopefully Black´s patience.

"Tut tut, Black. Jealous that I am invading in your territory? Want Harry´s guardianship all to yourself, do you? You were never there for him. I was the one counseling him through 12 years of living with the Dursleys...through the fear when he first started at Hogwarts...the suspicion against him when the Chamber of Secrets was opened...you stalking him his third year. And last year, when he needed you the most, he couldn´t even write to you...simply because he feared for your safety." I snorted and scowled more deeply. "And all the while he was the one whose life was in danger." I walked up to him slowly, while he just stared. He still had that look of disbelief plastered on his face. His eyes followed me apprehensively, and I smirked when they started to move upwards: my height has its advantages. I waited until my nose was within an inch of his before I hissed, "You should thank me for taking care of your godson."

Apparently, I should not have said that.

Though he is shorter than I, Black is amazingly strong. He knocked me to the floor before I could register what he was about to do and react with a spell. That is a wizard´s weakness. They never expect anyone to start throwing punches, never prepare a good defense to a physical assault.

Unfortunately for Black, I had been attacked many times before in muggle fashion and knew how to fight back.

As he threw punches and attempted to break my jaw, I simply pressed my thumbs into his eyeballs. His blasted Gryffindor courage (or was it stubbornness?) held up longer than I expected, but soon he could no longer endure the pain. He howled and his hands moved to remove mine from his face; I took the opportunity to drive my knee into his groin. He yelped, like the insufferable canine that he is, and didn´t object when I stood. I whipped out my wand and ropes shot out of the end, binding his arms and legs together. He lay on his back, incapacitated, and bore his gaze into mine.

"Mark my words, Snape. I will kill you for what you did to Harry."

I sneered. Damned Gryffindors and their empty promises.

"And what, exactly, was that? I seem to recall helping the boy. Being there for him. You object?"

Black spit on my unshod feet. "You used him. You found out all his weaknesses and then exploited them. And for what? Do you enjoy it? Do you like seeing him suffer at your hands?"

I glared at him. Surely he was mistaken. He was exaggerating. He had to be. I would never do that to Harry. I cared about that boy. Of course, I had to pick on him in class. But that was only to save face. To keep me alive. I had to play the part of a loyal Death Eater. Even Black knew that much.

"I do not enjoy picking on him, Black. But you know as well as I do that I can´t appear to like the Boy-Who-Lived..."

"You know that´s not it. I have resigned myself to the fact that you must mistreat the Gryffindors in order to preserve your own life, although I rather think that you do it more out of hatred for them, than out of necessity. But you have been exploiting Harry´s fears since he first came to Hogwarts. He has told me all about you, so I know. I can´t believe that you don´t. He must have told...Tiros...about you."

Fear gripped my heart. I had never trusted anything that flew out of Black´s mouth before. But what he just said made more sense than I cared to realize. I had never thought about it that way before...

Harry´s first year. He had just found out his heritage, his history, the fact that everyone knew more about him than he did...and I tormented him for not knowing things even a wizard-reared child wouldn´t know. His second year. Most of the school suspected him of opening the Chamber of Secrets. They blamed that kind-hearted boy for attacking his schoolmates. He wrote to me about it constantly, the pain that it wrought on him to be the object of such an accusation. Third year...he had the chance to be raised by a loving guardian (never mind that Black was that guardian)...and I took the chance from him. Fourth year...being forced into the tournament...the media scandals...I took every opportunity to deride him. And every single time, I exploited his weaknesses. I knew his worst fears...his worst pain...and took advantage of them. I took every opportunity to blame him for what happened...to get him expelled....

Dear gods...Black was absolutely right.

I sank slowly to the floor. How could this be happening? It was enough that I was responsible for the demise of Harry´s grandparents. It would test him enough as it was, to forgive me of that. But this? This was it. The end. If he ever found out, I would lose him forever. My link to reality. My responsibility. My boy.

I lifted my gaze from the floor, and fixed it on Black. My mask was surely gone, and I made no attempt to pull it back on.

"You can`t," I pleaded to him. "You can´t tell Harry. It will hurt him too much."

"I have to tell Harry," he growled back. "If I don´t, he will go on trusting you with his problems, and you will keep on exploiting them."

Oh, Merlin. He was right again. Harry had to know. He had to protect himself.

"Then..." My mouth felt almost too dry to speak. "Let me tell him. Since it`s going to hurt him, I will arrange for Albus to be present."

For a reason I cannot comprehend, Black agreed.

"I´d just as soon not see his face when he finds out, anyway. But if you hurt him more, Snape, you´ll wish James had never saved you twenty years ago."

Oh, but I already wish that, Black.

I released the spell that held him.

He stood, dusted off his robe and began to walk towards the door. He stopped short, looking around the room, and stooped suddenly to pick up my report. He stared at it long enough to make me uncomfortable. What else could he possibly want? He couldn´t hurt me more, if that was his aim...

"There´s one thing I still don´t understand, Snape. You must write comments on students´ papers, or on the black board during classes. I recognized your handwriting after seeing only one of your letters to Harry. How is it that Harry didn´t recognize it? What sort of enchantments did you use?" He eyed me suspiciously.

But this was something I hadn´t thought about. I had never even considered consciously disguising my handwriting when I wrote to Harry. But given my habits, it was an easy enough question to answer.

I snorted. "I write instructions and comments to the students so quickly that most of the time it is illegible. I don´t take the time to write well unless it is something of importance."

Black´s gaze didn´t waver.

"I didn´t enchant your godson, Black."

He spat on my naked feet once more for good measure and, morphing once more into a shaggy canine, he sauntered out the door, my report clutched in his mouth.

I sat numbly in that very spot for nearly three hours, before several curious colleagues came to see if I had died in my sleep.

If only it were so simple...