With nothing left to do besides laze around or play in the sun, Harry and the rest of his group spent the afternoon playing Gobstones, Wizarding Skittles, Exploding Snap, and throwing pebbles as far as they could over the lake. Draco even suggested flying over the lake, though the others refused for fear of losing house points or serving detention.

Speaking of which, Draco had a most unusual dinner that evening. On the one hand, he was pleased to see many older Slytherins wishing him a happy birthday at the table; while on the other hand, it didn't take long to see that they were using as many plates as they could.

"Think they're funny, do they?" Draco said, plonking himself between Vincent and Gregory to the right of Pansy. "Look how many plates they're using!"

Susan sniggered as she looked down the table. "You're in for some real elbow-grease tonight, all right."

Draco went red in the face as he scowled. Tracey reminded him that it was his own fault.

"And who asked your opinion, huh?" Draco said, slamming a slice of beef onto his plate. "Don't you go following them as well!"

"I'll think about it," said Tracey, the corners of her mouth twitching as she glanced at Draco. Daphne, Pansy, and Susan joined in as well; and they taunted him throughout dinner, and especially as he left for the kitchens.

"I can't picture him doing dishes," said Harry, sniggering in the dungeon corridor as they walked. "I just can't."

"I can," said Susan beside him, "and it's hilarious! Serves him right, the jerk."

When Draco returned to the common room later that night, he was in a foul mood. Furious and exhausted, he went on and on about 'slaving away like a servant', 'the nerve of those damn elves', and the 'foul prank' played on him by housemates. But then, just as Draco was getting more and more worked up, the topic shifted in favour of Gryffindor against Ravenclaw in tomorrow's Quidditch final.

Nobody cared about Draco's rants, and for good reason.

Harry, where are you going?" Pansy said the following morning after breakfast. "The stadium's that way. You know ... outside."

"Seriously," said Daphne beside Pansy in the Entrance Hall, as Harry rushed towards the marble staircase. "Where's he going? Should we follow him?"

"No way," said Pansy, who was probably shaking her head. "I'm not missing the final! Come on, we're gonna be late!"

Harry, meanwhile, ran up the staircases as fast as he could, and made his way to the second-floor corridor. He arrived just in time to catch Professor Snyde leaving her office.

"Professor!" Harry said, catching his breath. "Can we talk? It's urgent!"

"Er, OK," said Professor Snyde, unlocking her door and gesturing for Harry to enter. "In you go, then."

Professor Snyde's office looked even better than the last time Harry was in here. The silver lamps were polished to a gleaming shine (Harry wondered if they weren't perhaps platinum), the dark-wooden furniture had been varnished again, and the black leather couches looked as comfortable and flawless as ever – as if they had just been made yesterday. Harry crossed the floral-scented room and took a seat at the high-backed chair facing Professor Snyde's desk, with her doing the same on the other side.

"So," she said, placing her elbows on her desk and locking her fingers together, much like Dumbledore would do. "What's so urgent that you're ditching the final?"

This was the moment which Harry had been dreaming of. He had given it an hour's worth of thought last night while lying in his bed, and had come to the conclusion that Professor Snyde might be the answer to his problems, all things considered.

"It's, erm, about my 'family' and stuff ..." Harry said, deciding to let loose as calmly as possible. He wasn't used to talking about childhood with anyone besides Dumbledore, and had hoped that Professor Snyde – being as young and similar to Harry as she was – would better emphasise on Harry's behalf.

When Harry had finished detailing his upbringing – or lack thereof – Professor Snyde sat still for a few seconds and blinked. If she was upset at the Dursleys, she was hiding it well – much like Harry had done so far.

"And Dumbledore refuses to let you leave, huh?" She said. "Any idea why?"

After pausing for a few seconds, Harry decided to risk telling Professor Snyde about the mysterious protection. Anything would be better than going back to the Dursleys, and if Harry had to pin his hopes on his newest (and, more importantly, youngest) professor, then so be it. He spoke at length regarding what little information Dumbledore had provided.

"Sounds like old magic that you can't just read up on," Professor Snyde said, shrugging. "Don't ask me, 'cause I don't know. But what I do know is that you can't stay there any longer, Harry, no matter what."

"I wish it were that easy," said Harry, dropping his shoulders and sighing. "But I tried everything I could to convince Dumbledore."

Professor Snyde rubbed her chin. "And you did mention some of your, er, how shall I put this? 'Good' friends and their families, right? I mean, there's a difference between the Malfoys and the Boneses, for example."

Harry nodded. "I don't want to make a burden of myself, though. Whoever takes me in is probably going to need loads of spells and stuff around their home. They'd also need to know their Dark Arts well, just in case."

"I'm sure there are loads of people who'd love to have you."

"Yeah," said Harry, "until the spells and stuff interfere with their daily lives." Then he bit his cheek and stared at the desk. "Or the novelty wears off."

"The what?"

Harry scratched the back of his hair as he said, "'Boy Who Lived' stuff. You know, like when you adopt a cool pet from the store but then get bored of it."

After staring at Harry for a second or two, Professor Snyde chuckled. "Now you're just being silly, Harry. Tell you what, I'll try and have a word with Dumbledore and see how it goes. Or would you rather come with me right now?"

"Yeah!" said Harry, feeling his heart-rate pick up. "Let's go do it right now!"

And they left the office in search of Professor Dumbledore, with Harry taking the lead. Harry didn't know how Professor Snyde had done it, but after walking down the corridor and approaching the staircase up ahead, she mentioned that Dumbledore was in his office.

"How did you –"

"Seems like he's rather busy today, though," said Professor Snyde, tucking a blank roll of parchment into her inner jacket-pocket as she walked. "He usually attends the final to present the Cup. Guess we gotta hurry in case he decides to go, unless you'd like to wait?"

"No way," said Harry, shaking his head. "The sooner we bring this up, the better. I want out of the Dursleys for good."

It took them five minutes of brisk-walking to reach Dumbledore's office, where Professor Snyde spoke the password and took Harry up the revolving staircase. Dumbledore permitted them entry and levitated the stacks of parchments from his desk as they entered. Then he summoned two high-backed chairs to the opposite side of his desk, facing him.

"So," said Dumbledore, once Harry and Professor Snyde had taken their seats. "To what do I owe the pleasure? Surely you'd be more interested in Quidditch than in an old Mugwump attending to his duties?"

Harry glanced at Professor Snyde on his left and hoped that she'd speak up first. She caught the hint and straightened in her seat.

"I was hoping we could chat about Harry's summer arrangements, Professor."

Dumbledore looked from Professor Snyde to Harry for a moment, and then back. "Very well. What has Harry told you about the Dursleys, Miss Snyde?"

"Everything," said Professor Snyde. "It sounds like he's forced to stay due to some old magic, am I right?"

If Dumbledore had been caught off guard by Professor Snyde's knowledge, he was hiding it well. "The protection which Harry is afforded there goes well beyond that of an ordinary spell," he said, cool and calm.

"Fair enough," said Professor Snyde (Harry's heart sank a bit). "But is it worth keeping him unhappy? Unloved? Has he told you the finer details of his upbringing, Professor?"

Dumbledore paused for a second or two, and said, "Harry's safety is my primary concern at this moment, though I am willing to have a word with the Dursleys, as I've mentioned to him before."

"That's not going to work," said Professor Snyde, which was exactly what Harry was about to say. "I think we both know that you can't force them to accept their wizard nephew, Professor, unless you bewitch them."

"Certainly not," said Dumbledore, leaning back in his seat. "Petunia Dursley had willingly – if not begrudgingly – accepted Harry out of her own free will. The fact that Harry remains protected to this day shows that despite their questionable behaviour, the Dursleys do, in fact, accept him to some extent."

"Not good enough," said Professor Snyde. "After all, my aunt did the exact opposite thing out of fear. She refused to accept me, while Harry's family are left with no choice but to accept him. Either way, it's not a healthy environment for a child – or for anyone, really."

"What do you propose, then, Miss Snyde?"

Straight and to the point, Harry thought.

"OK, so the main thing is that Harry needs to stay protected, right?" said Professor Snyde, rubbing her chin. "And we both know that Voldemort isn't exactly dead. So ... why not copy that amazing protection to a better place for Harry?"

Dumbledore smiled. "I've already discussed this with Harry, himself. As a matter of fact, he had made the same suggestion as well, to which I've explained that it cannot be done."

"Not even with a good team, Professor?" said Professor Snyde. "I mean, I'm no stranger to strange magic, myself. Then there's Mad-Eye Moody, Bill Weasley, Professors McGonagall and Flitwick; Professor Snape, even, and who knows how many others out there who can help?"

Unfortunately, Dumbledore wasn't convinced. "The less people we involve in Harry's protection, the better."

Professor Snyde shook her head. "So he has no choice but to force himself to endure maltreatment, right?" (Dumbledore paused for thought.) "Harry, would you mind stepping outside for a minute or two? Actually, go and wait for me in the corridor."

"Why?" Harry asked, baffled at being kicked out of his own meeting.

"Because I'd like to say something that I think Professor Dumbledore already knows," said Professor Snyde, as Harry stood up from his seat. "But I'd prefer that he also hears it from my side, based on personal experience. Don't try eavesdropping on the door, all right?"

"Who said I'll do that?" Harry asked. Professor Snyde smiled.

"It's what I would do."

Unsure of whether or not he'd be called back, Harry greeted Dumbledore and made his way out the office. He spent the next fifteen minutes or so sitting on the base of an alcove in the corridor, thinking hard over his decision to involve Merula Snyde in his affairs. But with all things considered, including the fact that Professor Snyde was quite similar to Harry in so many ways, Harry knew that he'd made the right choice. And so he sat waiting outside the office, much like a visitor would do at a hospital theatre.

Seconds later, the gargoyle jumped aside as Professor Snyde walked off the revolving staircase and into the corridor. Harry questioned her at once.

"So, erm, how'd it go?" Harry asked. "What did you tell him?"

"I obviously can't say," said Professor Snyde."But it wasn't rude or anything, just in case you're wondering."

"And the Dursleys?" Harry asked, feeling his heart-rate increase, and a sense of dread fill him like ice. "Is it a 'yes' or a 'no'?"

"Look at it this way," said Professor Snyde, placing her arms on her hips. "You won't be getting any more mail from 'M'."

Bewildered that Professor Snyde even knew about that, Harry simply gawked at her. Now where in the world did that come from?

"I don't get it," he said, feeling his insides sink like an anchor. "Why won't I be getting any more letters from 'M'? I thought she'd send more after the exams?"

There was an odd expression on Professor Snyde's face. On the one hand, she was smiling; but on the other hand, her violet eyes seemed to be glistening a bit more than usual.

"Well," she said, "I think she'll stop sending you mystery mail because the mystery's over. You're going to be staying with her from now on."

"Huh?" What in the world?

Professor Snyde brought her palm to her forehead in a slow, almost face-palming manner. "Harry, what's my name?"

"Profess – er, I mean ... 'Merula'."

"And what does it start with?"

Harry frowned. He couldn't believe he was being asked such simple questions here. "'M'."

And then it hit him, and he gasped. Merula threw up her arms in a 'Well, duh!' kind of way.

"Honestly, Harry James Potter, I'm surprised you never figured it out as soon as I arrived! Didn't I talk about Slytherin being the best house? Surely it must've been obvious when I had you kids decorate my office and whatnot?"

Harry had no idea how to respond to the cocktail of emotions surging through him. There was a rush of astonishment, euphoria, relief at having solved the mystery at last, embarrassment at having failed to spot the obvious, and – wait a minute. What did Merula just say?

"Did you ..." Harry stared up at Merula, who was a fair bit taller than him. "Did you just say that I'm gonna be staying with you?"

Merula nodded.

"For real?"

Merula smiled. "Yep, as real as magic."

"So ... no more Dursleys?" Harry asked, feeling a bit light-headed as if this were a dream. Surely this was a prank, right? No way in hell would Dumbledore have given up so easily. Something wasn't quite right here.

She's lying. This is too good to be true.

"Let me put it to you this way," said Merula, taking a seat beside Harry on the base of the alcove. "You're going to be living in a house where you can do magic freely – within reason, of course."

"But ... I can't do magic outside of Hogwarts. That's illegal!"

"Only if you get caught," said Merula, her eyes glinting with mischief. "Which you won't, of course. Some rules are just meant to be broken."

No matter what, Harry couldn't bring himself to believe Merula Snyde. This had to be the set-up to some record-breaking joke. Harry half expected Peeves – or Snape – to jump out from behind a suit of armour and cackle at him.

"What's wrong?" Merula asked, tilting her head an inch to the side while looking at Harry. "Why are you so quiet all of a sudden? Not gonna scream in joy?"

"I don't believe any of this. How do I know you're really 'M'?"

Merula rolled her violet eyes. "Seriously, Harry? Are you for real?"

"And the part about living with you ..." Harry stood up and turned to face Merula, now level with her. "How could Dumbledore have given in so easily, huh? Did you bewitch him?"

"Yeah, sure." Merula made an exaggerated motion of casting magic. "I used my super-secret awesome powers to ensnare the old man and get him to do my bidding. See? Nobody stands a chance against the best witch at Hogwarts."

Harry frowned. Now she was just taking him for a joke.

"My God, you're so pessimistic, much like I used to be," said Merula, crossing her arms. "Why's it so hard to believe you're going to be leaving those sad excuses of Muggles behind for good? Harry, you're staying with me from now on. Cool, huh?"

"But how come I couldn't convince Dumbledore, myself?" Harry asked, feeling another onslaught of conflicting emotions. On the one hand, words couldn't describe the feeling of being free from the Dursleys at last (assuming it was true, of course); while on the other hand, Harry had wanted to accomplish it himself or at least by his own argument. He didn't wish to feel indebted to Merula or anything, especially as he'd handled many of his own problems by himself over the years. And yet, here she was, Harry's knight in shining armour – Merula Snyde.

"Because there are times when, no matter what, you do need that extra hand, Harry." Merula gave a slight snort of laughter. "Now you're starting to sound like me back in the day, always wanting to do everything on my own. Such pride."

"What pride?"

Merula was still smiling. "It's OK. I know what it feels like. Anyway, how do you wish to say goodbye to your family? By letter or in person at King's Cross?"

But how, exactly, did she convince Dumbledore? I don't get it!

"I ... I don't know," said Harry. Deep down, he hadn't expected any of this to succeed. It was more a spur-of-the-moment thing than anything else, even though he'd given it some extra thought last night. "Am I really leaving them? For good?"

"Nah, you're not," said Merula, standing up. "I was just messing with you. Dumbledore refused to yield and said you're staying at number four, Privet Drive no matter what. That protection's way too important for him to give up. Wanna go watch the final?"

Everything came crashing down for Harry at that moment. He knew it. He just knew thatMerula Snyde was taking him for a fool! And with that, Harry spun around and was just about to stomp away when Merula grabbed him by the arm, preventing him from moving.

"Lemme go! That was a stupid, rubbish joke!"

Merula was laughing, though she ceased at once upon seeing the look on Harry's face.

"Erm ... damn." She scratched the back of her hair and stared at the space between them as she spoke. "Sorry, I just couldn't resist." Then she sighed. "That's the kind of joke which used to get me in trouble back in the day. Old habits die hard, I'm afraid."

Harry was so furious he didn't care for the fact that there were actually tears welling up in his eyes. Seriously, how could anyone think to prank someone like that? Talk about an emotional low-blow of the highest (or lowest) sort.

Silence ensued until Merula looked at Harry and said, "Look, the honest truth is that you are coming to stay with me, I swear. Dumbledore agreed."

"Maybe I should just ask him myself first," Harry said. And without waiting for a response from Merula, Harry approached the stone gargoyle, spoke the password, and made his way up to Dumbledore's office door. He wiped the tears from his eyes before entering.

"If I were to guess," said Dumbledore, looking up from his paperwork. "And my guesses have, usually, been good ... you've come to double-check your facts with me, correct? Well, Harry, I do hope you understand the consequences of your decision. Are you sure you wish to leave your family without the protection they've afforded you?"

Wait, hold on. So he is going to let me leave? So Merula wasn't lying?

"Harry," Professor Dumbledore added. "Please take a moment to understand what this means. You will be leaving them at the mercy of whatever conventional protection the Ministry and I, preferably the latter, can spare. To make matters worse, the Dursleys will not appreciate so much as a hint of magical protection, unless it's as out of the way as your current protection is. Conventional protective enchantments can only do so much, I'm afraid."

He pressed on as Harry remained silent.

"To give you an example, your current, 'old-magic protection' – as Miss Snyde calls it – can protect them at home, within the neighbourhood, at work, during their shopping trips ... well, it's rather vague on the whole, yet remarkably effective at defending them from Lord Voldemort and his supporters. However, even the most complex of conventional methods lack the flexibility of your current protection, Harry."

Had Dumbledore forgotten – or overlooked – the fact that he was speaking to an eleven-year-old (well, soon-to-be twelve-year-old, that was), and not one of his research buddies? Harry's head was still spinning for a few seconds as he processed everything Dumbledore had just said.

"I'm sorry, Professor," said Harry, feeling his heart-rate increase at finally being able to say this for good. "But the Dursleys made their choice. They had, what, ten years to come right? Why should I care about them all of a sudden?"

"I see," said Dumbledore, heaving a slight sigh. "In that case, I shall have you know that it will take some time – plenty of it, in fact – to properly secure Miss Snyde's residence for your arrival. I think we both know the risks associated with the Ministry's involvement, correct?"

"Voldemort's people still work there," said Harry, knowing full well that there was no way he could get them all arrested and just clean out the damn place. What a wretched hive that was.

"Yes," said Dumbledore, nodding. "Yes, indeed. It would be easy in the event of Voldemort's return – however that may be – for him to have his associates analyse the defences set up by the Ministry's officials. That was, after all, one of his main methods of finding – and dealing with – his targets during the war."

Harry had no idea what to say while standing at the door. It felt as if Dumbledore was guilt-tripping him into staying at the Dursleys. But what if something were to happen to him or the Dursleys after all? Something which could be avoided by having Harry and this amazing ancient-protection still in place?

"Sorry, Professor," said Harry, shaking his head. "I'll just have to hope that you can add some amazing protection as well, over the Ministry's. Maybe put some things that they can't pick up and document? I'm sure you, of all people, can think of something, Professor. You're said to be the best."

Fawkes the phoenix gave a soft, soothing little tune at Harry's words.

"Really," said the portrait of Phineas Nigellus in his sly, sarcastic voice. "If anything, at least we know why you're in Slytherin, Potter."

Armando Dippet spoke up next. "I think it's for the best that we do let this young man leave his horrendous Muggle-predicament, Dumbledore, as Miss Snyde had said."

"I can only hope that this is truly worth the effort, Harry," Dumbledore said, flicking his wand to summon a stack of parchments from the table to his right. "We are venturing into unknown territory now or, as they say, treading on thin ice."

"Then make it thicker," Harry said. "We've got magic too, just like the Dark Side. But they don't have the Supreme Mugwump on their side, right?"

"Thank you, Harry. You may leave."

Recognising his dismissal, Harry exited the office and returned to the corridor, where Merula was sitting on the base of the alcove.

"Hey, listen," she said as Harry approached her. "About that stupid joke earlier –"

"It's OK. Just mark me two hundred per cent, and I'll forgive you."

Merula snorted. "Should we go check on the final? See if Gryffindor actually pulled it off for us? What a scandal that would be, huh?"

"Nah, it's OK," said Harry, who was sorely tempted to call Merula his unofficial godmother, perhaps. "Let's go for a walk or something."

Harry's smile was in stark contrast to the rest of the Slytherins that afternoon, who had returned from watching Ravenclaw narrowly lose to Gryffindor but clinch the Quidditch Cup. The match had ended with Kenneth Towler finally catching the Golden Snitch, ending the game on two hundred and thirty to two hundred and twenty in favour of Gryffindor.

The final league standings was therefore:

Ravenclaw: 660

Slytherin: 630

Gryffindor: 430

Hufflepuff: 370

And as for the House Championship, Harry felt the grin slide off his face as he read:

Ravenclaw: 456

Slytherin: 410

Gryffindor: 378

Hufflepuff: 354

Damn! No wonder I looked like an idiot smiling, Harry thought. He knew that with barely a fortnight left until the end-of-term feast, it was going to take some miracle to rack up those points, especially with Professor Flitwick (and many others) on high alert for any abnormalities.

"It's over," Harry heard Prefect Abberton say in the dungeon corridor. "I don't see how we're ever going to catch up, especially without classes or Quidditch."

"No!" said Prefect Vance, slamming his fist against the stone wall. "I can't believe we're about to lose our win streak right in our final year! I hate that Malfoy brat!"

Meanwhile, as Draco made himself scarce in the common room and avoided potential ambush-spots in the corridors, Harry sat down and gave the situation as much thought as he could. There had to be a way to gain over fifty points (or more, depending on what the Ravenclaws also did) within a week or two these days, right? If anything, Harry saw it as the perfect opportunity to become the hero of his house.

There had to be a way.