Anyone would have needed a moment to process all that had gone on in the last twenty-four hours. Now, Harry might have been too wary, too distrustful to make friends in this new magical world, but that didn't mean he didn't have a strong backbone in there somewhere. After all, he survived his family up to now, he survived a year of loneliness, a year of constant persecution from the wizard in the jar, and if everyone was to be believed, then he had survived You-Know-Who.

That was what he told himself while he hid under the invisibility cloak, and every now and then he reminded himself that the hat chose him for Gryffindor for a reason. After some time of this, he straightened his spine and removed the cloak. He did not believe Snape wouldn't try to get him expelled.

"I will keep you until the end of the week," he told Snape, his decision made. "At least there would be no one except my family to see if you get me expelled then."

For the first time he took a good look at his Professor and did a double-take at what he saw. His face was sooty despite the dunk in the lake when he had tried to escape, his black robe was ragged, dripping lake water mixed with potion glop, and his hair stood at all ends.

"I promise I'll make it more comfortable in there," he said. "Sir."

No answer. Harry chewed on his lip when Snape crossed his arms, his sooty face remaining a blank mask. Well, he couldn't blame him, could he? He made a mental note to become a better kidnapper. Snape needed more than food, he needed clothes and a better jar or something… If he was home he could have used the doll-house that Dudders had discarded as boring the day after he got it.

"A week," he told Snape and picked the jar up. "Sorry, sir. I'm sure it will go fast."

In all the fuss, Harry had forgotten that there were people who would miss the wizard in the jar.

The castle entrance was packed with students mulling around, and Harry had to take care not to be trampled. He wasn't the only student with an invisibility cloak, he knew he saw some others in his late-night wanderings, and any student that bumped into something that wasn't there always tried to grab the culprit.

"He wasn't at breakfast," a fourth-year student said, unaware that an invisible Harry was edging past him. "So he was at least gone for that long."

"How would you know? It's not as if you were there the whole time," someone else snarked. "Not even the Longbottom kid manages to eat for two hours." The crowd around him laughed.

Harry escaped the group and slipped up the grand staircase, thinking nothing of it; they could have been talking about anyone. Well, he felt sorry for Neville, but at least Neville wasn't around to hear.

"They searched the whole castle and couldn't find him anywhere," Percy Weasley said at the top of the stairs. "Of course, I offered to help search. After all, no one knows the castle as well as the Prefects, and I know the route he takes on his evening rounds by heart, but they said they had enough Aurors."

"Where do they think Snape went?" the Ravenclaw girl asked him.

Harry stopped to listen, crushing the jar to his chest, his heart suddenly pounding in his ears. But Percy said he had no idea and didn't want to presume.

When he realised he wasn't going to learn anything more, he set off on wobbly legs. They must have searched the castle while he was at the lake. Aurors? Susan Bones' aunt was one; they were like magical police…

"Either he went off with Professor Quirrell, or Professor Quirrell killed him and ran off after," a Hufflepuff girl blocking the way said with a shrug. "I really don't care. Can't we talk about something else?"

The 'something else' was lipstick, and Harry learned there was a spell to make it sparkly even if it was Muggle 'stuff' before he could find a gap to pass them.

"They found stimulants in his office. Someone said he smoked it!"

"Oh, come off it," one of the Weasley twins scoffed. "I heard it was only Dancing Grass, and anyone can get it. I doubt he ever used it; can you see Snape dance?"

"Exactly. Half the store is full of things that make you happy, and I never saw the greasy bat even smile," his twin said, and the brothers high-fived, snickering.

Harry clutched the jar tighter and all but ran down the hall.

The last thing he wanted now was to go back to the dorm, but he needed to know more because what was this about Professor Quirrell? He stuffed Snape and his cloak in an empty classroom. He only had to sit in the common room for a few minutes to hear it all.

It went like this.

While Harry was having his picnic at the lake, Professor Sinistra reported Snape missing. She found his classroom open, a potion turning black, and green footprints disappearing halfway down the hall. Professor Trelawney, who had a vision that he was in danger, called the Aurors despite the Headmaster's protests.

Harry understood the Headmaster's reluctance. Half the school was always in danger, kids cast hexes at each other, daily someone sported a tentacle or boils or boils on a tentacle, you flew on brooms for sport, and Harry had read they travelled through fire. Besides, the castle was big and someone missing for a morning could just be them walking too slow to breakfast.

Then Professor Quirrell was nowhere to be found when the Aurors tried to question the teachers, and a search through his rooms showed he had packed up and gone. Some kids thought they were lovers and had eloped. They had seen Snape sneaking about, looking at Quirrell, but Snape hadn't packed anything so that idea was quickly discarded for the house favourite: Quirrell was an agent of You-Know-Who and had abducted Snape to torture him for information on the Headmaster.

Harry didn't even care that the Aurors had found a three-headed dog on the third floor and yet another troll. He was more concerned with Professor Quirrell's disappearance. Where had he gone? Why had he gone? Whatever the reason, it looked bad for him, and Harry couldn't let the stuttering Professor go to jail for something he hadn't done.

No matter what happened to him after.

He had to tell someone.

He had to tell the Headmaster.

Not wanting the hassle of trying to traverse the busy halls invisible, he left the jar where it was and went off to search out the Headmaster's rooms. He's been with Snape that one time and thought he could still remember.

Dumbledore wasn't there.

But Professor McGonagall and a few other teachers were standing next to the ugly gargoyle, watching a woman he had never seen berate Filch for cleaning the floor.

"It is my job to clean the floor!" he snapped and waved his mop in the air, making them duck.

"Not when it is removing evidence in an investigation, Mr Filch. Those footprints could have helped us find the perpetrator."

"Well, no one said! How should I know anything if no one ever tells me? Oh, I am just the caretaker here; I don't need to know, do I?"

"Yes, Mr Potter," Professor McGonagall said, catching sight of Harry, who was trying to slink away. "What can we help you with?"

All eyes turned to him.

Harry mumbled a barely audible answer, hoping to escape, but McGonagall had been a teacher for many years and was an expert in translating mumbles.

"See Professor Dumbledore?" Professor McGonagall repeated. "Why?"

Harry swallowed—now what?

"It's sort of a secret," he said, but he wished at once he hadn't, because Professor McGonagall's nostrils flared and the other teachers gathered around.

"Professor Dumbledore left ten minutes ago to London," she said, sounding harried.

"He's gone? Now?"

"Professor Dumbledore is a very great wizard, Potter. He has many demands on his time—"

"But this is important."

"Is this about any of today's happenings, Potter?"

"I-I…" No, he couldn't say it with everyone here, all the school will know in minutes, and he still had hopes that Snape would get them to not press charges. The day was not yet done, was it? "I only wanted to ask if I could stay here for the summer."

It wasn't a lie, he had intended to do that before he shrank Snape, and that was probably what saved him. In his experience, teachers had a way of sniffing out lies, and the stranger must be an Auror, which was worse. He barely listened to Professor McGonagall's response, the exasperated expression on her face said it all.

"Students are not allowed to stay over the holidays," she said dismissively and told him to go play; this was no time to disturb the teachers with silly requests.

Snape looked as miserable as Harry felt. He was sitting with his back to the glass and just stared at Harry when he removed the invisibility cloak. Then he sneezed.

The Aurors left the school, taking the troll and the dog with them. Harry tried another time to see the Headmaster but he had not returned, and he was severely told off by Professor McGonagall who threatened to remove points if she saw him again.

Everyone hoped that Snape was alive and not off being tortured by Quirrell but the consensus was that they also hoped he would not come back. Quirrell could, they had become used to his stutter, but not Snape.

"I'm sure they don't mean it," Harry told Snape when he fetched the jar, the halls having been full of students and in one case a professor, who wanted to party. They were in the prefect's bathroom, and Harry had made a warm puddle on the bottom of the bath and set Snape next to it. Aunt Petunia always gave Dudders a warm bath when he had a cold. He had sat himself on the floor with his back to the bath to give him privacy.

"Do you think I care, Potter?"

"I suppose not, sir."

If he had cared he would probably have made some effort to be a nicer person.

"Do you think that perhaps," Snape said from the bath, his voice dripping with sarcasm, "instead of trying to make me have a bath you could try to fix what you had done?"

"How, sir? Do you want me to try a Finite?"

"I do not want you to try any spells on me, Potter, are we clear? No spells, no potions. We have no idea how this body will react to it and I do not trust a first year's magic on me, least of all yours."

Harsh but probably deserved, Harry thought, but that didn't leave him with anything to do, did it? He said so.

Snape's sigh was long and clearly audible despite his size.

"Have you thought any more about taking me to the Headmaster?" he asked, enunciating slowly like he sometimes did with Goyle.

"I tried," he admitted. "He's not here. Why do they think Professor Quirrell kidnapped you?"

"The headmaster is not the only adult here, Mr Potter, any teacher will do!"

"I'd rather not."

"I promise I will not have you expelled."

"But everyone will know, won't they?" Which would have the school gossiping about him for life.

"What? Can't handle more fame?"

Harry dumped the grass out of the jar and washed it out in the sink before stuffing Snape, who hadn't bothered with the bathwater, back in. He pushed a washcloth in after him for bedding.

In retaliation, Snape zapped his fingers and shouted, "They'll know anyway, you imbecile!"

With Snape safely stowed on top of his closet and the rest of the school at dinner, Harry went to the library. He had an idea on how to make new clothes for his Professor but more urgently, some way to give him water without flooding the jar. Up to now he had just reacted, it was time he did something. Also, keeping busy would stop him from thinking about his dire future.

School was over, and the library was empty except for one girl. He hid right at the back, on the opposite side, and practised. For hours. So hard did he concentrate that he didn't see the boy until he was on him.

"What's that you're doing, Potter?" Percy Weasley asked, nearly giving him a heart attack.

"I'm practising a Diminuendo," Harry said when he got his breath back; thankful for having thought up a reason beforehand. "It's my cousin's birthday soon and I thought I'd give him some stuff for his dollhouse…"

"Not with a Diminuendo, you won't," Percy said.

"Sorry?"

"What you need is a Reducio, the shrinking charm. You'll learn it next year. It's the counter to Engorgio and you need to be proficient in it if ever you want to make a shrinking solution. We use it on the farm to move animals, it makes them smaller, and in the shops in Diagon they'll shrink your packages if you ask, but it has many other uses, like…"

Harry stopped listening. All that for nothing? He's been at it for hours! "So what does a Diminuendo do, then?" he asked, interrupting Percy.

"Makes an object disappear."

"What?"

That was all the encouragement Percy needed to be in his element, and he explained the tricky business of a Diminuendo which made things 'younger' until it disappeared into non-existence. A sweater like the one Harry was trying to shrink would dissolve into wool and cells before it vanished. He rattled off a list of witches and wizards who experimented with timing it and became babies again—if they were lucky and didn't die—which might be nice if you wanted to start your life over… if only you grew up again, which they didn't. They spent their lives as babies and died as babies.

It sounded horrid.

He was also starting to realise what might have happened.

"So I need to do a Reducio?" He frowned. No, an Engorgio. If Snape would let him cast one on him. It couldn't be such an easy fix, could it? Why hadn't Snape said anything?

"No, you need to go to bed, it's nearly curfew. Here," Percy took his wand out. "It takes hours of practise so look closely."

Percy waved his wand. Flick, swish, swish, flick, flick. And the sweater shrank before Harry's eyes. "Tell me when it's the right size," Percy said.

When Harry judged it small enough to fit the Professor, he shouted, "Now!" and Percy waved his wand a second time, making it stop.

Someone hissed "Shh!" from the other end of the library.

Percy said something under his breath that sounded like, that girl, and told Harry not to be so loud. "I'll do the rest and you can practise some other time."

Harry had brought his extra robe, thinking it only fair to give it to the Professor, an empty potions flask, and a bucket that he had 'sourced' from the groundskeeper's closet. He figured Snape could use it as a toilet like he sometimes had to when he was locked in the closet. He was turning into a right criminal. Well, at least the neighbours won't be surprised. Maybe this time his Aunt would actually send him to St Brutus's Secure Centre for Incurably Criminal Boys, ha!

Percy shrank everything and told him to go to bed. Then went off to tell the girl the same, which turned out to be Hermione who decided to walk back with Harry, chatting his ears off about the exams, her results, and how far she had already studied for their second year. It was a relief to reach the tower.

Not so his room. Everyone was there, playing exploding snap on Ron's bed, even Neville, and Dean asked, "Where were you?"

"Library." He bit his lip. Now or never, he only had a few days left. "Can I play?"

"No," Ron said, speaking over Dean who looked like he was going to say yes. "Not until you've done it."

"Done what?" Neville wanted to know.

"Never you mind," Ron answered, sending Harry a scowl, and the cards chose that moment to explode in Neville's hands, starting a mini fire on the quilt.

Harry took his pajamas and toothbrush to the bathroom. Oh. He should get Snape a toothbrush. And toothpaste. Did he need pajamas? Maybe not. It was only going to be a week. Six days now.

He didn't blame Ron at all. Draco had turned out to be a mean kid and Harry certainly wouldn't listen to anything he had to say now. Six days.

Later that night when everyone was snoring, Harry snuck out to the bathrooms with the jar. A red-nosed Snape growled at being woken and wasn't appreciative at all about his new clothes. Or the bucket.

"Do what?"

"An Engorgio on you," Harry repeated. "I'll practise tomorrow." Up to his session with Percy, he had thought he had stunned his Professor, and that the potion was to blame for shrinking him, but Percy's wand movements were so similar to the stupefy that he now figured he had made a mistake.

"It wasn't a shrinking solution," Snape said.

"Sorry?"

"You should be. The potion was not a shrinking solution, Mr Potter. The spell you cast might very well have been a Reducio but my potion was far from a shrinking solution. You won't be able to fix this, leave it for the adults."

"Then if it wasn't, what—"

"None of your business."

"But I can try—"

"You can try taking me to the Headmaster!"

"But, sir, I think if—"

"Don't think. Your thinking results in people being stuffed in jars! I must say it's a new low for the Potters, not even your father went that far!"

"You knew my father?"

"He went to this school, didn't he?"

He did. And the cloak had been his father's, according to the note. Harry had never put more thought into it than that and now realised he had missed an opportunity. Would Snape want to tell him about his father?

"You taught him potions?"

Snape stared at him.

"Put me back in the jar."