Snape brushed his greasy hair out of his face and sighed. He'd been perched behind this rock for an hour now and his leg was starting to cramp. In his lap was a quill and parchment to record information about Potter. He glanced down at it. So far, he had written, "Potter has no social skills." This was based on the fact that Potter, Granger, and Weasley had been studying in the grass for an hour and Potter had not spoken one word.

Potter turned another page of the text he was reading. Then he finally spoke. "Is hellebore magical or do Muggles know what it is?"

Weasley laughed, then flushed beet red at the moment he seemed to realize Potter was serious.

Snape rolled his eyes. Lovely friends you have there, Harry, he thought.

Granger was prattling something ridiculous about hellebore. She was giving Snape a splitting headache. He wrote on the parchment, "Granger is insufferable. How does H. put up with her?" then began doodling a thestral next to it.

Professor McGonagall had put him up to following Potter. According to McGonagall, Neville Longbottom had come to her saying that Granger, Potter, and Weasley had been talking about the philosopher's stone. It had worried her they might get a crazy notion to find it for themselves. And since that beast of a man Hagrid could never keep his mouth shut, she assumed they would discover it was at Hogwarts.

Eleven-year-olds did not pose a threat to the safety of the stone. But Snape had promised he would protect Potter so here he sat on one side of a rock, Potter on the other.

"Then what is hellebore used for?" Potter asked.

"Invisibility when it's powdered," Weasley replied, surprising Snape. Granger was giving him a similar look of shock.

Potter grinned and rolled onto his back. "I think my dad used some when we played hide and seek. He was there and then he sprinkled powder and he was gone. I couldn't find him anywhere."

Snape felt a pang of remembrance. The memory came back to him with shocking clarity.

"Your...dad?" Granger said with a look of pity that made Snape want to vomit.

"Yeah. At least, I think it was..." Potter's face went white. "Maybe not," he said quietly.

Snape sneered at the expression on Potter's face. So Potter had remembered it was Snape and not dear ol' dad who had played hide and seek with him. And the very thought of it had made him blanch in terror. Well, if he was going to feel that way about it, Snape was glad he had been taken away by Lily.

In anger, he scribbled a note on his parchment, "Potter is rude and disrespectful to adults. His Head of House should seek appropriate punishment." Then in case Minerva laughed in his face, Snape added spitefully, "And he makes fun of said Head of House behind her back." That would get Minerva in a towering rage if nothing else he wrote did.

He knew it wasn't what she asked for. She wanted to make sure Potter was safe, that he wasn't plotting to sneak down and get the stone for himself. She wasn't concerned about his behavior as long as it didn't affect her. But Snape was bored. Potter was clearly in no danger at Hogwarts. The gates had on them ancient spells that even Dumbledore could not lift. Even so, Voldemort was not likely to stroll up to the front gates and request entrance.

He wanted to do something more important. If he was to protect the Boy Who Lived, he wanted to do something meaningful, to die for him or rescue him from imprisonment. Not follow him around with a quill and watch him study for a test.

He wondered if anyone was preparing him for his future. Did he even know he would be forced to face Voldemort at some point in his life?

Snape shook his head. This was crazy. He didn't want to be in the boy's life anymore. He'd done that once and it had turned out badly. But the thought still nagged at him. What if he were the one to teach Potter how to defend himself? He could give him private lessons: teach him Occlumency, defense, and strategy. He could prove to Lily and James, to Dumbledore, and to himself that he hadn't been a worthless father. That the four years he'd raised Harry—Potter, rather—had meant something.

He looked at Harry. The breeze was ruffling the hair that Snape had once thought he'd inherited from him. He knew now that he looked every bit James and nothing like Snape.

Snape stepped out from behind the rock, waiting a moment so the three would not realize he'd been spying on them the entire time. "Potter, just the boy I needed to see."

"S-s-sir?" Potter blanched again.

Snape hated him for it. "I'd like to talk with you apart from your...friends." He paused to allow Granger and Weasley to appreciate the insult. The stricken look on their faces let him know he'd achieved his goal. He smirked.

When they had walked a short distance away, Snape said shortly, "I have something to discuss with you. I'll need you to meet me at Hogsmeade this weekend without your friends."

Potter looked as though he'd been forced to swallow a vat of lacewing flies. "What's wrong with Hogwarts?"

Snape lifted his lip in a sneer. "That is none of your concern, Potter. What matters is that there are people here who would find it suspicious that a teacher and student are talking."

"Who?"

"I have ignored the fact that you have not called me 'sir' twice." Snape sniffed. "If you do not respect your teachers, you will be losing points from your House."

"But, sir--"

"This conversation is over." He looked at the castle and could see a faint shadow in Dumbledore's office window. He pointed a finger at Potter to look more menacing should Dumbledore be watching. "I will see you at Hogsmeade."