Disclaimer: Not even. See the first chapter, if you don't believe me.

Authors Notes: Many thanks! Over 300 reviews! Very cool!

excessivelyperky, she's the one,

she makes fanfic writing fun!

As always, thanks for your edits and insight.

Enjoy

Chapter 25

The Family Tree

With the help of the Nochebuena potion, Harry slept soundly and peacefully until he was awakened at six in the morning by an enthusiastic Dobby.

"Master Severus is at breakfast, Harry Potter sir," Dobby squeaked.

"Did he get called away last night, Dobby? Is he hurt?" Harry asked, squinting from the elf to the mantel clock in bleary eyed confusion.

"No Harry Potter, sir. Master says it is breakfast time," the elf informed Harry happily.

"Oh...thanks," he said, getting drowsily to his bare feet and pushing his glasses on clumsily.

Snape was drinking coffee when the boy shuffled sleepily into the dinning room. He seemed to take in Harry's rumpled appearance while peering at him over the brim of his cup.

"Just because I insulted your pajamas, Potter, doesn't mean you need sleep in your clothing." Snape intoned snidely as he sipped his coffee.

Harry looked down at his rumpled sweat shirt and jeans, and gave Snape a sleepy, embarrassed smile as he flopped into his chair. The boy leaned an elbow on the table and rubbed the sleep from his eyes with the heel of one hand, while taking a noisy slurp of pumpkin juice with the other.

"Morning, Professor," he said, setting the glass down and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

"Elbows off the table, Potter," the older wizard ordered as he continued to drink his coffee.

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"We have three hours until the funeral," Snape told Harry, after the boy finished a second helping of eggs. "I'd like to have an Occlumency lesson and begin discussing a training schedule with Dobby before we depart."

Breakfast with Potter had been a veritable symphony of smacks and slurps that set Snape's nerves on edge. He had first noticed the boy's deplorable table manners at Hogwart's kitchens before they arrived in Ireland.

"Okay, I'll just go brush my teeth and stuff." said Harry agreeably, jumping up from the table and wiping his grubby teenage mouth on the sleeve of his gray sweat shirt. It was at this point Snape decided he had seen and heard enough.

"Get back here, Potter!" He ordered firmly

"Wha?" the boy asked in confusion

"Sit." Snape ordered just as firmly

"'Kay," Harry agreed warily

"This," Snape began, indicating the clean white linen next to Potter's plate, "is called a nap-kin," he enunciated.

"Oi," Harry said cheekily. "I've 'erd o' that before."

This response caused Snape to cuff Harry rather sharply on the back of the head in an effort to inspire a more serious attitude. He was gratified at how effective it was.

"Now, when you begin a meal, Mr. Potter," Snape explained patiently. "You place this on your lap. Do you know what else it's used for?" He asked in false gentleness. He sounded a bit like Flitwick with the first years.

"To wipe your mouth," the boy supplied as he rubbed the back of his head.

"Very good, Mr. Potter. Now would a polite, nearly of age, wizard ever use his sleeve instead of a napkin?" The boy looked down at the sleeve of his sweat shirt where the egg yolk was beginning to dry.

"No, sir," the boy said.

"Of course not, Potter," he said as though such behavior were too silly to contemplate. "That would be rude and disgusting. Now finally, when you wish to leave the table you say, "excuse me"," Snape told him. "All polite wizards do this," he explained looking at the boy pointedly.

"Oh!" Harry said catching on. "Excuse me, sir?"

"Certainly, Potter," he inclined his head. "Later we will discuss the wide variety of sound effects that seem to characterize your dining experience. "

"All right," the boy agreed with a shrug as he headed toward his room.

When Harry returned, his face was cleaner, his hair looked a bit less of a bird's nest, and his clothing was no longer rumpled. But Snape could tell it was the same sweat shirt, as the egg stain was only partially removed.

"Tried a bit of an ironing and cleaning spell did we?" He asked snidely, indicating Harry's sleeve.

"I'm not very good at that one," Harry admitted, his face turning red beneath the scrutiny.

"Why didn't you just change?" The man asked reasonably.

Harry admitted he didn't have that many clothes, and reddened further.

Snape shook his head as though he thought the boy were a bit hopeless. Grabbing his wrist and resisting the urge to rap the boy across the knuckles with his wand, he cast a cleaning charm to remove the last of the egg stain from the thick, gray fabric of the sweat shirt.

"Why would someone who hasn't many clothes and isn't good at cleaning charms ever consider using his sleeve as a napkin?" Snape asked in mild dismay.

Harry gave an embarrassed little half shrug before looking down to give his trainers a close looking over.

"What are you going to wear to the funeral?" Snape asked

"These," the boy admitted with another shrug. "I'm good at transfiguring simple clothing. It usually lasts about two hours, so long as I don't do anything too active."

Snape merely nodded in response.

When their minds joined in the Occlumency pathway, Snape immediately sensed the boy's distress at being disapproved of. Also clear was the boy's confusion that such a thing should concern him so. It confused Snape as well. However, he grudgingly admitted that it made sense on some level.

"You are a sixteen year old wizard, Potter. By definition you are expected to be a bit unrefined," Snape said into the mind link. "And it is the job of any adult who comes in contact with you to tell you so," he explained in mild amusement. "It's not a matter of approving or disapproving, though I disapprove of you in many ways. But in far fewer than I used to," Snape admitted.

"Thanks. I think." Harry said with amusement, as his distress seemed to fade.

"Now there is no time for a memory of your choosing this morning, unless you insist." Snape said in tone that indicated what he desired the answer to be.

"No, sir. I guess I don't insist," Harry replied with a chuckle.

The Occlumency lesson involved Harry filling his mind with memories of someone who he disliked or who had been cruel to him.

"You may not choose me," Snape warned unnecessarily.

Harry had already chosen Percy Weasley. He had been wondering if he was going to see him at Bill's funeral.

"Our nightmare last night made me think it might be beneficial for you to learn this particular technique. It is used to keep the negative thoughts that sometimes inhabit the surface of our consciousness from permanently damaging our magical receptors and our souls."

Snape showed Harry a memory from his surface consciousness. It featured the Headmaster tongue lashing a second year Severus to ribbons in front of a crowd of students. Among them were the Marauders and a herd of rabid Gryffindors, all of whom were positively gleeful, but even the Slytherins were amused to witness someone so thoroughly chastised. While this image played out above, complete with its feelings of anger and humiliation, Snape called forth another memory to play out just bellow the band of emotion. It was a memory of Severus and the Headmaster sitting on the couch that the old man sometimes transfigured to sit in front of his desk. The two were eating ice cream. The Headmaster, his eyes twinkling madly, was relating a story about his brother Aberforth and the family goat that made young Severus explode in peels of boyish laughter. Severus had to wipe his eyes from laughing so hard.

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Harry looked beyond the memory to the dais where their souls resided. The Headmaster's brilliant gold band of magic, which was firmly anchored in Severus' soul, bounced lightly as though to stretch its boundaries with mirth. As Harry looked at Severus' soul, he noticed for the first time a ring of small cup- like reservoirs that circled the perimeter of its misty surface. They shone with the most brilliant light, even as smoky black tentacles swirled and slapped at them trying to douse their flames, and gain purchase in the little basins.

"Are those your magical receptors?" Harry asked in seemingly awestruck understanding as the reality merged with what he had read on the page.

"Very good," Snape said. "It is important to note their reaction. Now, redirect your attention this way. I have another, more difficult, example to show you. Any memory with Albus is quite easy to circumvent because of my love for him."

The cozy dream like atmosphere of the Occlumency pathway made it hard for Harry to stay focused. He contemplated for a moment how easily Snape could admit feeling love in the pathway. Then his attention wandered to the magical receptors that surrounded his own soul. They shown brightly, although not near as bright as Snape's. But neither were they actively battling darkness the way Snape's were. As Harry pondered this, Snape's silvery-blue band of magic that was anchored in the misty center of the boy's soul gave what seemed to be an irritated twitch. Pulling his attention away, Harry looked over at the Potions Master. He noticed that the twitch seemed to correspond to the cross look that was spreading over the man's features. Harry felt a certain tautness of the link within his chest. Then he remembered he was supposed to be to paying attention, and that Snape could hear his rambling thoughts.

"So help me, Potter if you can not attend to this lesson, I will end this link and give you a good hexing," the man warned.

Harry pondered the fact that Snape's threat would have sounded fifty times more threatening outside of the link. Snape's willingness to hex him was difficult to take seriously in the gentle intimacy of the pathway.

"I promise you will take me very seriously, if I need to interrupt this lesson to make you pay attention, boy," the man warned, falling short of sounding menacing by several meters.

However, Harry knew he was right; an angry Snape was fairly impossible not to take seriously outside the pathway. Harry forced himself to focus.

"Now, if you are quite finished," the man said. Harry didn't know what tone he was aiming for, but it sounded gently chiding at best.

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Next, Snape played a memory at the surface of his consciousness that featured himself and Sirius Black. Just as fourth year Severus was rounding the corner to enter the Transfiguration classroom, Black hexed the floor with both an aquamenti and an incline charm. Severus slipped on the water and the huge stone slide that the floor outside the classroom had become. The boy slid on his bum for several meters into the classroom. This was much to the delight of the assembled Ravenclaw and Slytherin. Severus' anger at Black was almost tangible.

To counteract the negativity of this memory, Severus played an image just below the band of emotion. It featured Black sticking up for Lupin with the ferocity of a real griffin. Three Ravenclaws were picking on his much smaller friend for his tiny stature, pale skin, and the fact that he was out sick nearly once per month. Once again, Snape's magical receptors burned brightly, the little tongues of darkness not having a chance to take hold.

"Do you understand how this can be accomplished even if you truly despise the individual?"

Harry said he did, and Snape had him practice with the memories he had chosen of Percy.

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The boy failed miserably at first. The tiny black tentacles slapped two of his receptor fires out completely and tried to coat the little reservoirs with a sticky, gummy substance. At first this made Harry angry, and to his alarm all his fires burned dangerously dim. He looked at Snape in horrified fear, and to his amazement, the man looked at him in the most gently reassuring way. Harry felt the link inside him pulse lightly as though Snape were gently stroking it, as one might soothe a frightened cat. Harry's receptors burned bright again, and instantly burned off the gummy goo the darkness was trying to coat them with.

Harry tried again and again without any noticeable improvement. Finally he let his mind travel back to the night he had rescued Malfoy. He had rescued him mainly because he had wanted to save Snape from having to curse the younger wizard, as Voldemort had ordered all of his followers to do. It was odd that Harry should have cared about such a thing given the fact that he and Snape had always despised each other. Malfoy was another one Harry had always hated. Yet, when he got to Voldemort's hideout and saw how cruelly Malfoy had been tortured, he suddenly felt a sort of brotherhood with the boy. It was a narrow alliance in a unique set of circumstances. Harry reluctantly opened his heart up to the need to protect the other wizard. It was this unusual set of complicated emotions that Harry sent into Voldemort's mind before he Apparated away with Malfoy.

It was contemplating how his emotions had shifted with Malfoy that Harry was finally able to gain success with the exercise. Numerous images of Percy Weasley being a righteous git played out on the surface of his mind. However, just beneath the band of emotion revealed a badly shaken Percy pulling Ron from the lake after the second TriWizard task. And Harry's magical receptors burned true; the tentacles of darkness had no chance to douse the light.

"Well done," Snape told the boy, putting a steadying hand on his shoulder, and giving it a bit of a squeeze as they broke contact. "You did well once you internalized the concept. I would like you to practice these techniques as you go about your daily responsibilities." Harry had began to perspire from the exertion of the exercise. "The true test of your growing skills," Snape said, "will be when you can manage them when you are under pressure. So from now on, and certainly while we are out today, keep your shields up full."

"Yes, sir," Harry agreed wiping the dampness from his brow with one arm, while Snape took a moment to glance at his pocket watch. The boy still felt a bit of the euphoria that seemed to accompany his experiences in the pathway.

"We still have a hour yet before we need to get ready. You will work with Dobby during that time." After summoning Dobby, Snape told the little creature that he was to work with Harry each morning from seven to ten. He told Dobby that he would prefer they worked on offensive magic first. They should begin immediately and work for the next hour.

"Dobby can show Harry Potter a cloaking charm, Master," the elf explained excitedly.

"Very well," Snape said sternly. "I'll expect a progress report from both of you at the end of the hour and at the end of each day's session."

Harry was a bit worn down from the Occlumency exercise, but he was interested to see what Dobby might show him. He was starting to get a bit of an inkling of what his days of training might be like under Snape's tutelage. Up at six definitely sounded like the Potions Master was done wasting time. Of course Harry had held himself to a pretty rigorous schedule all summer. It did feel a bit different, though, that he was no longer calling his own shots. It felt like a bit less pressure in some ways and a bit more in others. Daily progress reports sounded intimidating, and Harry wondered if he would get in trouble if he didn't learn Dobby's spells as fast as Snape thought he should.

"We will also be taking a look at Nagini's memories in the pensieve when we return," Snape was saying. "And do not forget you have your essay due before bedtime tonight," he admonished.

"No sir, of course not," Harry returned; he had forgotten completely. Essays. That was another way Snape's training might be different from his own. Snape certainly was fond of assigning essays, Harry thought. He was suddenly tired as he contemplated the coming weeks and months.

"Wipe that sour expression off your face, boy," Snape ordered. "Today is likely the last day we can afford anything like such a leisurely pace; you'd do well to take advantage of it. After term begins you will be studying your regular course load as well," he warned making his way from the room.

Snape had mentioned expecting him to sit for his NEWTs at the end of term. My regular course load as well for the love of Merlin, Harry thought irritably Getting rid of Voldemort should bloody well be enough, Harry decided, feeling hard done by all of a sudden. Meanwhile a cheerful Dobby stood before him excited beyond belief.

"Ready, Harry Potter, sir?" He asked practically bouncing up a down.

"Sure, Dobby," Harry said trying to put aside the image of foot after foot of blank parchment.

As it turned out, the cloaking charm was really cool. It was wandless and non verbal, and it rendered the caster invisible and silent. After casting the charm one could move about, and their opponent would think they were gone. The principle was a lot like Apparation. After thirty minutes Harry was able to make it work once, but he wasn't able to replicate it again. The effect was ruddy brilliant and Harry was relieved they would have a bit of progress to report to the Potions Master.

Twenty minutes later, Harry was standing outside his room in his newly transfigured dark purple shirt, black trousers, and matching black cloak with velvety purple lining. Snape exited his own room and gave the boy the once over.

"You look the proper young wizard in that outfit," the man opined pulling his own Slytherin green dress robes straight. Harry thought Snape looked a bit too highbrow, but then remembered he'd be Polyjuiced as Draco Malfoy.

"Thanks," the boy said indicating his own clothing. "I saw something like it at Madam Malkins," Harry admitted,

Just as he was brushing a bit of lint from his pant leg his scar began to tingle. The boy caught his breath sharply, and Snape grasped his own arm as though in pain. Pausing only slightly the man continued back into his room. Harry controlled his breathing. He kept his mind firmly Occluded, though he desperately wanted to try to see if he could get a hint of the dark bastard's mood. I could let down my shields for just a moment, Harry thought nervously, as he waited for Snape to reemerge from his room. When he did a moment later, he was dressed in his normal robes and carried a black cloak and white mask.

"Do you want me to Unocclude for a moment?" Harry asked. "Just so you could have an idea of his mood?"

"Do not presume to toy with him, you dunderheaded imbecile." Snape hissed, roughly grabbing Harry's arm in a vice-like grip and drawing the younger wizard to just inches from his face. "I assure you, you are not yet up to the task," Snape berated the boy, roughly releasing his arm with a bit of a shove against the door frame.

"It's not toying," Harry complained, rubbing the feeling back into his appendage. "I just wanted to check his mood. In and out. It's a good tool to have, why can't I use it?" Harry queried, sounding a bit petulant. "I have more control when it's emotions. With visions he has the upper hand, I'll admit. But I was even able to send him an emotion when I rescued Malfoy."

"I seem to recall threatening to maim you in some way if you repeated any part of that stunt. And to think last night I was thinking you didn't seem as great a dunce as you use to be." Snape held up his hand to stall the boy's interruption. "Enough, Potter," he scolded, sounding exasperated by the boy's stupidity. "If you ever mention purposely doing something that asinine again, I'll hex your impetuous little arse to within an inch of your life," he promised matter-of-factly.

Harry stared in open defiance.

"Do I need to go down the long list of all the things you are not allowed to do should I be gone for any length of time?" The man questioned sternly.

"No Horcruxes, no rescue attempts, no robbing Gringotts," Harry listed in flippant anger at not being taken seriously.

"You should continue on to the funeral," Snape ordered, with a frustrated shake of his head, and made his way past the boy. "That way if something happens you are already in the company of those who can help you."

"What are you going to do if he knows, though? We still don't know if he sent the nightmare!" Harry asked, letting his anger show clearly now.

"You are going to the Burrow!" Snape ordered, whirling back to face the younger wizard. "Come!" he ordered, making his way towards the front room.

The boy's wrath was no match for his, but in spite of shrinking back a bit, Harry refused to back down.

"What are you going to do if he tries to kill you?" Harry questioned, very nearly shouting.

"I won't allow it," Snape reported simply. He reached out to tow Harry by the arm, never breaking stride as he made his way to the front door.

Moments later both wizards stood at the apparation spot beneath the cave.

"Go," Snape ordered firmly

"I'm just..." Harry began, his eyes beginning to burn behind his glasses.

"I know what you are just," Snape interrupted. "Now do as you are told." He commanded, his voice sounding far too gentle for the words.

Finally Harry obeyed, and the last thing he saw before he Disapparated was the Potions Master's stern dark gaze.

At the Burrow the Weasley family seesawed back and forth between hauntingly subdued and oddly gregarious, as they attempted to manage their grief. When Harry arrived, Arthur looked like a lost little old man as he hugged him tightly and thanked him for coming. Molly brushed the boy's cheek with trembling lips and gave him a sad brave smile as she gently tousled his rowdy hair. Charlie, looking for all the world like his other half was missing, hung protectively close to his mum and dad, his face as fierce as when he wrangled dragons.

Ginny and Ron somehow looked much younger than their years. Seeming more twins than Fred and George, they bent with their heads touching and spoke in a youngest sibling shorthand. They alternated between tears and tearful giggles. Fred and George were the only ones who seemed their normal selves, which given the circumstances felt tragically out of place. Fleur sat near the family but off to one side. She seemed the outsider again as she sat with Hermione, who was subtly trying to bridge the gap between the grief-stricken young woman and her brief in-laws. The only one who seemed more apart was Percy, who for once didn't look pompous, but seemed to be working rather hard at determining an appropriate expression of grief. Harry felt more the stranger himself as his sadness over Bill's death mixed oddly with his concern for Snape's life.

Bill Weasley's funeral was quite a bit different from Dumbledore's. It was the first time Harry realized that different wizarding families followed different philosophical traditions aside from the average pure blood and halfblood divisions. Dumbledore belonged to the Merlinite tradition who buried their dead in tombs. The Weasleys were Arbolites. After cremating their loved ones they spread the ashes around a family tree. The Weasley family tree was fairly ordinary looking, although quite old. Harry had barely taken notice of it during previous visits to the Burrow. The tree had seen many such homes as the family relocated down through the centuries. All Weasley ancestors for generations back would have had their remains spread among its thick roots, which gently broke the surface of the ground and vibrated slightly as Bill Weasley was spread gracefully among his foreparents. Traditionally this was done by the youngest relative. There wasn't a dry eye in the vicinity as Ginny tread delicately among the ancient, gnarled roots and bade her brother a good journey.

The mourners were gathered round hand-in-hand. Harry was between McGonagall and Remus. As they all poured out their feelings of love for Bill, the large tree began to bloom. The flowers came a bit different for each person who was buried beneath it, Harry had been told by a teary eyed Ron, and it would bloom the same every year on the anniversary of the witch or wizard's death. The large tree bloomed large white flowers with purple centers for Bill. Harry recognized the beautifully angular petals, but had never known what they were called.

After the service people milled about in small groups sharing one story or another about Bill. Fred and George, overly keen to show Harry their newest invention, dragged the boy into the house. A sour faced Percy had gone in before them and he sat stiffly at the table in self imposed isolation. The twins called them Boggarts in a Box. When they tossed one in front of an unsuspecting Percy, an angry faced Molly Weasley suddenly appeared before him, and the young man scampered upstairs in fear. Just as the figure seemed about to speak, Fred canceled the spell with a flick of his wand and a laugh that sounded a bit forced.

"Obscuro," he chuckled, and the angry Boggart Molly disappeared.

"Would it have spoken? Harry asked, trying not to frown. A few months ago he might have found it funny, but picking on Percy had lost a bit of its charm.

"Boy, would it!" George affirmed with a wink.

"That's brilliant," Harry assured them. "I'd lay off a bit though," he admonished gently. "You might upset your mum and dad."

Fred agreed, but George remained unconvinced.

"Come on, it's only Percy," he complained, "Not so perfect now is he?" George queried in a moment of misplaced anger. Or perhaps not so misplaced, Harry reasoned, as he thought it over a bit. As they made there way back outside, George handed Harry a box of Boggarts. He said it was a trial sample.

The first thing Harry noticed when they he reemerged from the house was the slightly panicked buzz. Harry walked over to McGonagall, who was speaking in a frantic tone to Tonks, Lupin, and Moody. The ex- Auror had received a Ministry bulletin that ten Death Eaters had been broken out of Azkaban that morning.

"Was your teacher called away last night?" McGonagall inquired in an unreadable tone when the others were out of earshot.

"This morning," Harry affirmed. "Just before we were preparing to come here," at her confused expression he added. "He was going to be disguised as Draco."

Among those who escaped were, Malfoy, Avery, Macnair, Nott, Jugson, Rookwood, Crabbe, Parkinson, Bulstrode, and Goyle. Voldemort had apparently been unconcerned with the more recent detainees and sprung only his top lieutenants. The ten had been imprisoned since the night the prophesy had been lost at the Department of Mysteries.

Seventeen Muggles were admitted to St. Mungos after being tortured to distract the prison guards. One Auror was dead, having been struck down by a disfigurement hex, as was one as yet unidentified Death Eater, having been caught in the powerful wash of the illegal spell. Witness reports stated it almost looked as though the man had been trying to shield the Auror from the hex, which had been cast by Malfoy as he fled the scene.

Before departing from the Burrow amid tearful concerned good-byes, McGonagall insisted that Harry join her for tea at Hogwarts.

As Harry sat in a chair near the little tea table in the Headmistress' office, he found himself baffled by how much things had changed in such a short time. At the beginning of the summer, Harry had been bound and determined not to be trained by Snape. All his hard work had been motivated by that single desire. The boy had no idea when that desire had changed. It happened quite subtly, and now the prospect of continuing this task without Snape bothered Harry more than he would have imagined possible a few months ago. He couldn't latch on to any reasonable explanation. It was odd little things, like feeling such pride when Snape threw a word or two of praise his way that it was a bit embarrassing.

The man had spent so many years of Harry's life thinking he was an idiot that any hard won compliment from him felt more satisfying somehow than much of the praise he got from the wizarding world without putting forth any effort. Harry was shocked and a bit confused to realize how much it meant that he seemed to be earning a bit of the man's respect. Harry thought back to the morning's Occlumency lesson. He'd felt his heart swell slightly beneath the firm pressure on his shoulder and sternly offered, "well done." Of course Snape had gotten righteously angry a bit later, but even that was just Snape trying to keep Harry from doing something he thought was stupid, the boy admitted. Harry was just getting used to this...whatever it was, and he wasn't ready to give it up yet. He concentrated on the Occlumency link. Surely it should feel different if Snape had been killed. But the link felt the same and Harry didn't know what that meant.

"Somehow he has earned your trust," McGonagall observed in a bewildered tone. "That is something that was outside my imagining," she admitted.

"Mine too," Harry quipped

"I think it's probably best if you plan on staying at Hogwarts for a while."

Harry was shaking his head before her words were completely out of her mouth.

"I better go back," Harry told her as he finished off his tea. "I should be there when he returns, or he'll get mad and think I'm off doing something stupid."

"Harry," she gently chided. "You have to consider that the unidentified man is him."

"No I don't," he told her with a bit of a sneer. "Why do I have to consider that?"

"Although I am still too upset with him to assign a heroic motive to any action of his, who else but Severus may have tried to shield an Auror?" She asked simply.

"We don't even know if that's really what happened," Harry returned smartly. "I should go, Headmistress," Harry told her again. "He may be back and hurt. Someone is always tortured. Although Malfoy and crew probably received the lion's share of the attention today as a welcome home gift," Harry said and tried to quell the satisfaction that rose up at the image. He sat down his cup and prepared to go.

"I insist at least that you tell me where you two are hiding," McGonagall demanded in her sternest tone.

It was no match for his imagination of the tone a live and well Snape would use if Harry revealed such information prematurely.

"I should go," Harry repeated. "He might be back already."

"And if he's not?" She wanted to know. "If he doesn't come back?"

"Then I'll continue with the plans we have laid out so far and adjust them as I need to. I've still got the Headmaster," he said, fingering the disillusioned Angelth nervously."

"Splendid idea," she said as though she would win this round. "Let us speak to Albus and see what he recommends?"

Harry hadn't spoken to the Headmaster since the old man had told him off about going after the Horcrux. He desperately wanted to speak to him now though. However, he didn't want to do it in front of McGonagall for fear his complicated emotions would get the best of him.

"It's too early," he said reasonably. "We don't have enough information yet."

The Headmistress looked extremely displeased.

"And when do you plan on contacting him?" She asked like she'd assign detention if he didn't comply straight away.

"I dunno," Harry said, mostly to avoid being bullied. "I'll just go back and see what's up," he said in a placating tone as he made his way for the door. "I'll send you word by Fawkes."

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"Would you like to use the floo?" she asked adopting a look of innocent concern, but then she grinned at the transparency of the ploy.

"I'll be in touch, Professor," he promised with a wry smile "I may yet need your help yet. I just need to get a few more facts first."

"Do take care, Mr. Potter," McGonagall said with a sad sigh as Harry exited her office.

The Headmistress did approach the floo when the boy left. She couldn't help Potter if he wouldn't allow it. But perhaps she could be of assistance to Mr. Malfoy.

"Dungeon Common Room," the Headmistress said with determination and stuck her head into the fire.

Hope you enjoyed it! Reviews are good. Keep 'em coming!

Chapter 26

Spiders and Snakes

"It took Severus a month to master the method," the Headmaster continued. "However, I believe it was because he was often dealing with more complex emotions than you yourself face," the old man opined.

Harry thought back to the image from the Occlumency lesson. The Headmaster had thoroughly humiliated a second year Snape in front of a room full of Gryffindors and Slytherins.

Boy, I'll say, Harry thought. It would have taken more than a bowl of ice cream, and a story about your brother snogging a goat for me to have forgiven you for that.