Disclaimer: Anything recognisable belongs to J.K. Rowling.

. o O o . 38 . o O o .

Back In Black's House

The next day, Harry was still feeling elated after finally completing his animagus transformation and actually flying.

He set to the tasks Niall gave him with eagerness, and the outdoor work made him feel even better. There was something about the physical work that made him feel more alive, and he thought that he was going to miss it once he returned to Hogwarts, where Quidditch practice and the occasional walk down to the lake or to Hagrid's hut was the extent of his physical activity.

He had always been too skinny, but all the work and heavy lifting he had done since arriving at Kreeside had made him stronger and built some light muscle that made him look healthy.

If he wanted to keep it when he got back to Hogwarts, he was going to have to do more than Quidditch.

After dinner that night, Harry was drying the dishes after Aislinn washed them, while her parents watched the news.

The last dish was washed and Aislinn pulled the plug, the water gurgling noisily down the drain.

Harry yawned and stretched. "I think I might turn in early tonight. I'll see you in the morning. Say goodnight to your parents for me?"

Aislinn nodded, and then gave a shy smile.

"What?" asked Harry.

To Harry's immense surprise, Aislinn stood up on tip toe and pecked Harry on the cheek. She turned a brilliant red as Harry stared down at her, his eyebrows raised.

"Goodnight!" she squeaked, and fled from the kitchen.

Harry felt his shock wear away, and a satisfied grin spread across his face. He chuckled happily and left the house, whistling on his way back to the barn.

***

'Well to I recall how you begged me to spare the life of that mudblood. You were only too happy to watch her husband and child burn, but her... her you wished spared. And now you are protecting her son.'

Harry awoke, the words whispering like an echo in his mind. He continued to remember that night in his dreams, small snatches of the conversation that had taken place collecting in his mind, piecing themselves together and making him wonder.

Who had they been speaking about? Did it even matter? For some reason, the question nagged at Harry, and he just wished he could remember all of the conversation.

oOo

Aislinn avoided him the next day, and Harry thought she might be a bit embarrassed about kissing him. He wasn't sure if he found that amusing or disconcerting.

He had found that he didn't mind her kissing him at all, in fact, he rather hoped she wanted to do it again.

After lunch, he went upstairs and knocked on the door of her room.

"Hey," he said, when she opened the door.

"Harry! What are you doing up here?"

"I came to see you." He stepped into the room, looking around with interest. They usually spent time in the barn, or around the farm, but he had never been in any rooms of the house except for the kitchen and the living room.

There was soft blue carpet on the floor, and the walls were painted a cream colour, except for the one which held the window, which was blue to match the carpet.

There was a cushioned window seat in the window, which was surrounded by lacy white curtains.

Aislinn moved over to it, and Harry sat down next to her, leaning back on his hands. "Where've you been all morning?"

Aislinn shrugged. "I've just been doing stuff around the house," she replied, picking at a loose thread in the cushion.

Before he got to nervous and convinced himself not to, Harry leaned forward and pressed his lips to hers.

She gasped into the kiss, but after a moment she responded, and Harry felt a mixture of joy and relief.

It was nothing like kissing Cho back in fifth year; that had been awkward and slightly odd. This was amazing. His lips seemed to move effortlessly against Aislinn's, and best of all, she wasn't crying.

Harry smiled as he pulled back, delighting in the blush that had spread across Aislinn's face. Aislinn smiled back shyly, biting her bottom lip, but she shifted closer to him and leaned towards him again.

He turned towards her more, bringing one hand up to curl in her hair, when footsteps sounded on the stairs, and he and Aislinn sprang apart, jumping up guiltily.

Niall appeared at the door, a pleasant look on his face. "Harry, Ana said you'd come up to say hello to Aislinn. Ready to get back to work?"

Harry smiled and nodded, then turned to Aislinn. "I'll see you at dinner."

She smiled back. "Bye Harry, bye daddy." She plonked down on the bed, picking up a book that was splayed open on the doona.

"Bye sweetie. Don't work too hard."

Aislinn grinned at her father. "I won't."

oOo

Harry,

You haven't written to me for weeks, and you told me you would. This place we're staying is terrible, but Mum and Dad refuse to go back home.

That old guy with the beard said you might be coming to stay soon, but that other guy that's always scowling said 'not likely.'

He's scary, that one, and he keeps telling all these lies, I think to scare mum and dad and me. He said that the man who owns the house is a werewolf, but he seems too nice to be one.

Mum and Dad won't let me out of their sight hardly, but they might if you were here.

Harry raised an eyebrow in amusement. Dudley's hints certainly weren't subtle.

Anyway, write back, because there's nothing to do here and I'm really bored.

Dudley.

Harry tossed his cousin's letter aside and sighed. He didn't fancy spending time in a house with Uncle Vernon, but Dudley had been relatively nice to him lately, and he could easily imagine how Dudley must feel in a house full of wizards and witches, especially a house that was as hectic as Grimmauld Place.

At any rate, Hermione and the Weasleys would be there for the last few days, and it would be good to see them before school went back. He needed to get his school things, after all.

Besides that, maybe it would give him some time to investigate whatever was going on between Snape and his Aunt.

His decision made, Harry turned to other things. He might write back to Dudley later, if he felt like it.

He pulled out the Half-Blood Prince's Potions text, and as usual, he ended up reading the scrawls in the margins instead of doing his essay.

He had put off trying any of the spells so far. He was of age now, and able to do magic, but he didn't know if it could be traced still if he used his wand, and he didn't want to risk it.

The wand movement for the Levicorpus spell was just a flick, so Harry flicked is hand a couple of times at the blanket on his bed. He truly wasn't expecting anything to happen; it had taken him ages to master accio and lumos, but after a few flicks of his wrist, the blanket jerked up into the air and hung there, motionless.

Harry shrugged. It seemed like a bit of a pointless spell, not much different to any other levitation spell. Of course, he was doing it wandlessly, so perhaps he wasn't doing it correctly. He tried three other spells he had found in the book, and wasn't surprised when nothing happened. He would have to wait until he got to Grimmauld Place, where he could try them with a wand.

There was a counter curse in the book, but he couldn't remember which page it was on, so he reached over and tugged the blanket down. It fell lifelessly to the bed.

oOo

It was the night before Harry was due to return to England, and he felt that the last three weeks had gone far too fast.

"I'll miss you," whispered Aislinn, leaning her head against his shoulder. Harry slipped his arm around her and pulled her closer.

"I'll write to you. My owl, Hedwig, is a post owl."

Aislinn looked up with a disbelieving expression. "A post owl? I've never heard of those before. Pigeons, yes, but not owls."

"She's specially trained, and she's very smart."

Aislinn sat up, looking over at Hedwig who was asleep next to her cage. "But how will she know who to bring the letter to?"

Harry shrugged. "She's just a smart owl, and she'll hang around if you tell her to, so you can use her to write back to me."

Aislinn settled back against his side, looking happier.

"Do you have a photo I can take?" asked Harry, blushing lightly when she smirked at him.

"And what do you want a photo for?"

"I don't want to forget what you look like," he teased, leaning over to press his lips against hers.

"Hm, well I'm sure I can find something recent if I look."

"Good."

"You'll have to give me a photo of you, too," she replied, running her hand over his stomach and making him shiver.

Harry paused. He had photos of himself, but they were all magical ones. "Actually, I don't have any photos of me."

Aislinn gave an exaggerated pout. "Well, I'll have to get my camera out later."

...

They had a big farewell dinner that night, and talked quite late into the night. Harry was looking forward to crashing into his bed when he finally left the house, but it was his last night here.

So, instead of heading directly to the barn, he walked out to one of the fields and transformed.

He flew aimlessly for a while, just relishing in the freedom he felt.

Harry flapped his leathery wings, soaring quietly through the air and admiring the view his altitude offered. He was going to miss the quiet, beautiful landscape of Ireland, and Kreeside especially.

Conscious of the fact that he was nearing a small town and that he was quite low, Harry flew higher and turned around, heading back to the farm.

oOo

The day of Harry's return to London dawned, and he found himself feeling quite reluctant to go.

He spent the morning with Aislinn, lying on the grass with her wrapped in his arms, exchanging slow kisses.

He had lunch with the family, thanking Ana and Niall for everything. Then, it came time to leave.

He had told Niall that he was catching a bus from Galway to the ferry, but when he was dropped off, Harry went to the wizarding alley to use the Floo.

He stumbled out of the fireplace into the kitchen of 12 Grimmauld Place, finding the room empty.

The house seemed quiet, but he finally found someone in the drawing room at the top of the stairs on the second floor.

Dumbledore was looking intently into a glass cabinet full of trinkets, one that Harry remembered from a previous trip to Grimmauld Place. He seemed to be searching for something, but it appeared whatever it was wasn't there, because he stood up and turned away.

"Professor Dumbledore," said Harry, stepping into the room.

Dumbledore started, but then turned with a warm smile. "Harry, it is excellent to see you."

"You too, sir." Well, that wasn't exactly true. Harry found he didn't really care either way whether Dumbledore was there or not. He had once looked up to the headmaster, but the last year had left him feeling troubled when it came to Dumbledore. The man still treated Harry like a child, even when he expected him to defeat Voldemort. It made him feel like he was just a pawn in Dumbledore's chess game with Voldemort.

"May I ask where you have been these past weeks?"

Harry shrugged lightly. "Here and there."

The twinkle in Dumbledore's eyes dulled, but only the tiniest bit.

"I understand that you feel the need to be independent, Harry. After all, you are a young man now. But, you must remember that people are trying to protect you. We can't do that if we don't know where you are, my boy."

Harry smiled. "I appreciate that, professor. Seeing as I'm perfectly fine, it doesn't matter where I've been. Now, well I'm back, and I'll be staying until it's time to go back to Hogwarts."

Dumbledore nodded, looking at Harry appraisingly. "You'll be glad to hear that Miss Granger and the Weasleys will be arriving tomorrow morning. I believe they're planning a trip to Diagon Alley to collect their school things."

"Could I get my key off you then? I'll need to buy my own things."

Harry was expecting Dumbledore to say no, but instead he nodded, smiling. "I'll have it for you tomorrow."

...

Harry didn't see his relatives that day, but he did see Remus and Snape, who were both living in the house.

Lupin was pottering around the library most of the day, so Harry did as well. Apparently the Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon were keeping Dudley well away from any wizards and they spent most of their time shut up in a bedroom on the second floor, only coming out for meals and to use the bathroom.

Harry found their self-imposed imprisonment quite ironic, and more than a little bit amusing.

oOo

The Weasleys arrived the next day, with Hermione. Ron joined Harry in his room on the second floor, and Ginny and Hermione were sharing a room across the hallway from them.

They went to Diagon Alley in the afternoon, and it was a quick, but enjoyable affair. They collected their books and new robes before stopping at Weasley's Wizard Wheezes to say hello to Fred and George.

...

Harry, Ron and Hermione were sitting in the drawing room that night when Harry saw a bulky shadow hanging around the square of darkness that led to the hallway.

"Duds! Don't hang around in the doorway, come in."

Dudley sidled into the room and stood close behind Harry, peering nervously at Ron and Hermione. Harry rolled his eyes and pushed Dudley closer to them. "They won't bite. Guys, this is Dudley. Dudley, meet Ron and Hermione."

Hermione gave a small smile, while Ron's mouth twisted slightly, not quite eradicating the glare on his face. Dudley shifted nervously, giving a small grunt to say hello.

"So your mum and dad finally let you out did they? I've been here since yesterday morning and not seen you once."

Dudley shrugged and settled down on the floor, slightly behind Harry.

Hermione tried to make conversation with Dudley, much to Harry's amusement and Ron's annoyance, but Dudley only grunted in reply.

There was the sound of soft footsteps from the hallway, and the four of them looked over to see Aunt Petunia clinging to the door frame. "Dudders, it's dinner time darling."

Ron snorted at the nickname, earning an elbow in the ribs from Hermione.

Dudley left without a word of goodbye.

"How can you be so nice to him after he's treated you like he always has?" asked Ron, as soon as Dudley and Aunt Petunia had disappeared around the corner.

Harry shrugged. "It's not like we're friends, but I feel a bit sorry for him being cooped up in a house full of wizards. Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon always drilled a fear of magic into him, so I imagine he's pretty miserable being here."

"Harry, he's always been a right prat! You can't just start being all nice, just because you feel sorry for him!" exclaimed Ron, an indignant expression on his face.

"He wasn't exactly taught any other way to treat me," said Harry quietly, "but I think something's knocked some decency into him; he was actually quite nice when I went back to Privet Drive."

"Well, maybe he's just growing up," commented Hermione lightly. "Do you think I should try and talk to your Aunt? It must be awfully boring shut up in that room all the time. Maybe if I tell her I'm from a muggle family, they might be more inclined to mix with everyone else."

Harry shrugged. "I don't think there's any point in trying, Mione. Besides, I'd prefer you didn't go near Uncle Vernon at all. He wasn't exactly happy to see me here the other day, and I doubt he'd take kindly to anyone magic trying to befriend his family."

oOo

After a few days, Harry realised that Aunt Petunia came down early every morning, before many of the houses occupants had risen. She would make a cup of tea, and then take a tray of toast or cereal upstairs for Dudley and Uncle Vernon.

Having been living on the farm, Harry had gotten into a routine of waking early, so on his third day at Grimmauld Place, he waited in the eerie silence of a sleeping house for his aunt to arrive.

He gazed up at the picture of the barn on the wall, where he had hidden several times to watch Order meetings. He wondered if there was a way to get into the paintings from Grimmauld Place, but he doubted it. He was looking forward to returning to Hogwarts, where he would be able to visit the chamber and the paintings again.

He stared wistfully at the barn; it reminded him of Kreeside, and his thoughts turned to Aislinn, a small smile curving his lips, until he heard the door swing open softly.

Aunt Petunia didn't realise he was there until she was halfway to the kettle and he cleared his throat. She gave a small squeak and spun around, her hands over her mouth.

"Harry!" Her pale face regained a bit of the colour that had flooded out of it. She turned away again, and Harry got straight to the point.

"Do you know Professor Snape?"

"What?" she asked distractedly, as she filled the kettle. "Snape. N- well, yes, but not really."

Harry, surprised at the easy answer, sat forward, his interest growing. "What do you mean? Where do you know him from?"

Aunt Petunia waved a bony hand and leaned back against the cupboard. "He was friends with your mother when we were children."

Harry frowned, unable to believe what Aunt Petunia had just said.

"Do you mean at Hogwarts?"

"Well, yes, I suppose. But she knew him before that. He lived in a house near us, see. Of course, we lived in a nice area, but he was down Spinner's End, a bad neighbourhood."

Harry's frown deepened. "When you say friends, what do you mean exactly?"

Petunia jumped when the kettle whistled, but she answered as she turned and filled her cup.

"He was the one who told her all about magic and that school of yours. From then on they were practically inseparable," she said, a bitter tone entering her voice. "Lily didn't have time for her sister anymore, oh no! She was too caught up in being a witch! And then they went to Hogwarts together, and even when she was back home for the holidays, she was always with him."

Aunt Petunia clearly wasn't in the mood for toast this morning, because as soon as she had spat out the sentence, she took her teacup and swept out of the kitchen without another word.

Harry sat back in his chair, with something akin to shock numbing him.

Snape had told him innumerable times that he was exactly like his father, spent detentions and Occlumency lessons telling Harry all about his arrogant, selfish, no-good father, but not once had Snape mentioned that he had been friends with his mother.

For some reason, it angered Harry greatly. He jumped up and left the kitchen, intent on finding Snape. He knew the man was living here over the holidays; he had seen him in the library, and occasionally at meals.

It was early, but he doubted that Snape wouldn't be up.

After a half an hour of fruitless searching, Harry gave up and made his way up to Sirius' room. It wasn't that he was feeling nostalgic or sentimental; it was that he was unlikely to be disturbed. No one ever went up to the room, so he was pretty much guaranteed to be left alone while he thought.

There was a window in the room which opened up, allowing fresh air into the room, and Harry sat on the window sill with his legs dangling out the window.

He had a good view from the window, looking down the cobbled street of Grimmauld Place. It was mostly quiet, but people were starting to leave their houses for work. Sitting up high and looking down on it all gave Harry the almost irresistible urge to transform and fly, but there was no chance that he wouldn't be seen if he did.

He sat thinking about what Aunt Petunia had said until he heard the household beginning to stir, and he headed downstairs to the kitchen for some breakfast.

He saw Snape several times that day, but it was always when one of them was with other people, so he didn't get a chance to confront him. Finally that night, after Ron and Hermione had gone to bed and any Order members who had been around the house in the day had left, Harry found Snape alone in a makeshift potions lab that he had set up in the basement.

He entered the damp room silently, but Snape must have heard him. "Mr. Potter, it's late. Is there a reason you are wandering the house at such an hour?"

Harry spoke to Snape's back, where he was preparing the ingredients for some potion or other. "I wanted to ask you something."

"What might that be?"

"You never told me you knew my mother."

Snape's hand jerked, knocking over a small jar that sat on the table. He stood it up, before resuming his preparation. "I assumed you knew that I knew her. You know I was in the same year as your father. One would think you would logically conclude that I therefore knew your mother as well."

"You know that isn't what I mean. I asked my Aunt if she knew you. She told me you were friends with my mum, before Hogwarts."

Snape stilled, and Harry saw the very edge of his mouth turned down in a frown.

"Did she," he said tonelessly, wiping his hands on a towel that hung over the side of the workbench.

After a moment of silence, Snape lit a fire under the cauldron and poured a large beaker of water in, before arranging several bowls of ingredients next to the cauldron. Harry scowled; it appeared Snape wasn't going to elaborate.

"Well, is it true?"

"We knew one another," replied Snape shortly, staring into the cauldron as he waited for it to come to the boil.

Harry walked around to the other side of the bench so that he was face to face with Snape, but the Potion Master's eyes did not leave the shiny silver cauldron, which was beginning to bubble.

"Could you tell me about her?"

"And what is it you'd like to know, exactly, Potter?" snapped Snape, his nostrils flaring as he sprinkled some kind of powder into the water, turning it a clear green.

"Why are you acting all defensive?" asked Harry quietly, a beseeching tone in his voice. "I just want to hear about my mother. Everyone tells me about my dad, and you're no exception, but the only thing I know about my mum is that I've got her eyes. If you were friends with her, why can't you just tell me something about her? I don't care what it is."

"Pass the Dragon Fly wings."

"Wh – oh." Harry picked up a small dish filled with filmy black wings and passed it to Snape.

"We met when we were nine," said Snape quietly, frowning as he tipped the bowl of wings into the water. "In the park near where we both lived. Did your Aunt tell you that?"

Harry shook his head. "No."

"She and your Aunt were playing on the swings, and Lily was doing magic. I had seen them before, and I knew your mother was a witch, but I had never approached them before."

Harry started when Snape called his mother Lily. He had never thought of his mother as a child, either, always just as his mother. "But you did that day?"

Snape nodded curtly. "Pour in the armadillo bile slowly."

Harry picked up a small vial of yellow liquid, looking up at Snape to verify it was the right vial. Snape said nothing, so he pulled off the stopper and poured it in slowly and evenly while Snape stirred.

"Your aunt knew who I was, Merlin knows how, and she wasted no time in telling Lily that I was no good."

Harry snorted – he could easily imagine that.

"Lily however was always willing to give people a chance, and though Petunia was offended when I called her sister a witch, Lily was open to the suggestion and wished to know more."

"Aunt Petunia said you were the one that told mum all about magic and Hogwarts."

"Yes," agreed Snape, dumping a substantial amount of powdered mandrake root into the cauldron. The potion thickened instantly, turning a darker green. "She didn't know how she could do the things she could, and I was of course able to explain."

"Were you still friends at Hogwarts?"

Snape quirked an eyebrow. "You mean when she was sorted into Gryffindor and I into Slytherin?"

To Harry's surprise, Snape's lips quirked slightly. "I admit I was not impressed, but in retrospect, there was no way she would ever have been in Slytherin. Still, Gryffindor." Snape's lip curled. "I would have thought Hufflepuff would have suited her better; she was very loyal. Ravenclaw would have suited her just as well. I suppose in the end though..." Snape frowned and shrugged, sprinkling newt eyes into the water. "One cannot deny she proved herself a Gryffindor."

Snape was shredding ylang-ylang leaves into the cauldron, with an unsettling expression on his face.

Harry sat quietly for a moment, and Snape offered nothing further.

Harry recognised the potion Snape was brewing now; it was just a pepper-up potion, and Harry added the minced salamander tongue when it began to steam.

"So were you always friends? Even after she got married?"

Snape didn't reply.

"Sir?"

"That's enough Potter," said Snape softly, extinguishing the flame that was heating the potion.

"But-"

Snape closed his eyes and sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Potter," he began, his tone resigned.

But no one had ever spoken more about his mother, and Harry was desperate to hear more. "You can't stop now!"

Snape glared. "If I wish to discontinue the conversation, I am perfectly at liberty to do so." The familiar edge had returned to his voice, and Harry knew Snape would say no more on the subject tonight.

Harry sat quietly as Snape siphoned the potion into a batch of flasks, setting them to the side in neat rows.

Snape waved his wand, muttered "Evanesco" at the dregs in the cauldron, and then turned to Harry. "Come along."

Harry slid of his stool and walked through the door that Snape held open, walking up the stairs ahead of his teacher.

Harry reached the door of his bedroom on the second floor. He paused with his hand on the handle and turned slightly.

"Thanks," he muttered, and after a moment Snape gave an almost imperceptible nod before continuing up the stairs to the third floor.

Harry entered his room and collapsed on the bed, and even though he was tired, he found he couldn't sleep. There was light on the horizon by the time he finally managed.

oOo

The next day was the last day before they were to return to Hogwarts, and despite the fact that he was tired from being up so late, he didn't want to waste his last day of holidays, and so he rose after only a few hours of sleep.

He had the unfortunate luck of running into Uncle Vernon on the way down stairs. He hadn't seen him all week, thankfully. Out of the three Dursleys he was the most reclusive of them, not that Harry minded.

He moved to the left of the stairs, but Uncle Vernon blocked the way, staring at Harry with a hateful expression.

"I should knock you six ways from Sunday, for endangering my family, boy!"

"Uncle Vernon, we're in a house full of wizards," said Harry patiently. "You really can't do anything to me here."

He seemed to take Harry's comment as a challenge though, and stepped up to Harry's step, so that he was looking down at him.

"There's no one here right now," he hissed, gesturing around them, and Harry rolled his eyes.

"Someone will likely come along any minute, so I'd suggest you don't try to push your luck, just get out of my way."

Uncle Vernon's face purpled rapidly at Harry's tone of voice, but he stepped aside anyway, allowing Harry to continue downstairs.

After breakfast, he, Ron, Hermione and Ginny spent the day lounging in the drawing room, playing Exploding Snap and wondering amongst themselves what the Order was up to. They still weren't allowed at Order meetings, even though three of them were of age.

Harry wondered briefly if he should tell Ron and Hermione about the Chamber, and about using the paintings to spy on Order meetings when they got back to Hogwarts. On the one hand, he felt it was something that was his, something that he should keep to himself. On the other hand, he expected them to be open with him, and that wasn't really fair if he wasn't going to the same for them.

In the end, he decided to keep it to himself for the moment. There was plenty of time to decide later.

oOo

Harry lay in his bed at Grimmauld Place that night, running over the events of the previous week.

He was going back to Hogwarts tomorrow, for the last time. The thought filled him with sadness, but he made a resolution; this year was going to be good – great even. He wasn't going to let anything hold him back or bring him down, and he was going to make the most of anything that came his way.

oOo

Hmmm..... not sure what I think of this chapter. I think it's not very well written, a bit rushed. It was a bit of a filler too, because I couldn't have Harry just suddenly going back to school. So next chapter Harry is back at Hogwarts, and things will get interesting. (At least, I think it's looking good).

Thank you so much to everyone who reviewed the last chapter : ) : ) : ) I'm extremely excited, because we're nearly at 500 reviews. Hehe I remember when I started and there was about three reviews. Hopefully I haven't missed anyone – if I did I'm sorry...

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and

Franklin: Thanks for reviewing : )

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