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Chapter 13: One Foolish Omission

Or, the chapter in which there is both mortal peril and moggy peril, and I will leave you to decide which one is worse

After leaving Privet Drive, I made a stop off at Godric's Hollow to visit the cemetery before returning to Hogwarts. My normal programme of weekly visits had of course been suspended while I was with Harry. I had considered offering to take him there, but I thought it best instead to wait until he asked to go. I suspected that this might not be for a couple of years, or perhaps even longer.

My usual custom was to apparate into a quiet corner where I couldn't be seen by passing muggles, conjure a small fold-up seat and then take this to the Potters' grave site where I sat while bringing them up to date with any news. As we'd done so much on our holidays, it took a little time to recount all of it.

"I hope you found that interesting," I finished. "Harry really did enjoy himself. I hope to take him away again in future." I sighed, looking at the names etched on the headstone. "I feel that I should apologise again for everything which I did wrong as a young man. Sometimes it seems to me that I am nothing more than a thief; I plunder the happy experiences and memories of spending time with Harry that belong to both of you. It should be you who take Harry to the beach and the park and on holiday, not me. Those things are yours by right, and I'm part of the reason that you've had them taken away. For that, I can only say that I'm truly sorry. If you can hear me, I hope you believe that – and I also hope that my actions to care for your son offer some small consolation."

I stood up and walked towards the cemetery gates before turning back for a moment. "And by the way, James, I've been meaning to mention… thank you for saving me from the werewolf."

Hogwarts in August is often warm, sunny and peaceful. I've always had a liking for the school when there are no students there; it makes me feel that I can relax. Most professors, especially heads of house, only really feel completely off duty during the summer break. I liked to go down to the lake when it was bright with sunlight and transfigure a blade of grass into a hammock, then spend the afternoon lying on it while reading and dozing. Occasionally I'd even send for Mafty and ask him to fetch me a few glasses of wine or a picnic to enjoy. I'd never feel able to do that if any students were in residence. Hogwarts itself seemed content to bask in the sun during the long summer interval between terms, waiting patiently for the students to return and break the lazy silence with raucous explosions of sound and energy.

Of course, there was plenty of work to do as well, especially since I'd been away for nearly a month. I was kept busy, but even so I missed Harry terribly. I think he felt the same, as I received letters every couple of days. He told me that he was pleased with his presents from Florida; Petunia had bought him a Spiderman T shirt and mug, and some Superman bedding and books. He also mentioned that Dudley had been complaining about Harry having a party which he couldn't go to, and about the fact that Dudley's friends had also not been invited. On my next visit to Privet Drive these complaints were repeated by Vernon and Petunia, and in reply I firmly pointed out that Dudley had been away so he couldn't be asked, while his friends had been cruel to Harry many times in the past and therefore had no right to expect an invitation. They grumbled for a while longer, but eventually let the matter drop.

I had a chance to catch up with the Headmaster a few days before the start of term, and I told him of the various small incidents from the last few weeks where Harry had seemed to view me in a pseudo-parental way. "I'm a little worried that Harry might start to expect more of me than I am able to give," I said. "And I know that if the enchantments at Privet Drive were damaged—"

"That would be unfortunate, although I don't expect it to happen. They're in perfect working order now, I assure you. So why worry?"

"I'm not his father," I said heavily. "I fear that he might become too attached to me."

The Headmaster chuckled "Oh Severus, that ship sailed months ago."

"What does that mean?"

"He is your boy, Severus," Dumbledore said lightly. "Your son – not legally, not by blood or custom or location – no, none of those things, but yet he is the son of your heart. That is the strongest of bonds, and he feels it as much as you do. Think of yourself as a parent who just happens to live in a different place to your child. That's quite common in the muggle world, for various reasons."

"So… it's all right?" I said hesitantly.

"It is more than all right, Severus – it is perfect. My advice to you, dear boy, is to stop being concerned and just enjoy your time with him! Make it everything that you both deserve, because I assure you that the two of you have more than earned some happiness. You love him as a son, Severus, and he returns that affection. That is just how it should be. He needs you as much as you need him, so don't fret."

I found myself smiling idiotically. It was as if the last barrier had been dissolved and I was released. "Thank you, Headmaster. I needed that."

The new term started, and my visits with Harry resumed their normal fortnightly rhythm. At my suggestion, he attempted to persuade Stuart to join Nathan's judo club. It took several discussions, but Stuart eventually agreed to try out the beginner's class. Of course he would not be in the same group as Nathan and his friends, but doubtless they'd see each other and speak to each other there. As expected, Vernon and Petunia were unwilling to let Harry go along as well. Fortunately, Harry was not particularly bothered about this.

"As soon as I get to Hogwarts, I'll be learning tons of spells that are way more useful than judo," he said to me one warm Saturday in September, while we were having a picnic lunch on Fistral Beach in Cornwall. "And Stuart will be okay. I asked Nathan to keep an eye on him, if they're at the club on the same day."

"And he agreed?"

"Yeah. And also, I think the two of them might be going to the same school next year. Nathan says if so, he'll try and protect Stuart from nasty kids when they get there."

I nodded thoughtfully. "That would be most helpful." I considered Nathan to be rather interesting. I'd had the opportunity to observe how he interacted with others during Harry's birthday party. If he was a wizard then he'd be a natural fit for Slytherin, in my opinion; he had ambition, a charismatic presence, strong leadership capabilities and possibly a certain amount of cunning. Even before then, I'd reached the conclusion that Nathan viewed Dudley as the enemy, and that his reasons for befriending Dudley's cousin included information gathering and a classic attempt at divide and rule. I might be wrong, of course, but either way the current scenario benefitted Harry considerably.

"Hmm. Nathan wants to be a pilot in the Royal Air Force when he leaves school, did I tell you? He thinks it would be cool to fly all over the world."

"And Stuart?"

"He's not sure what he wants to do. I was thinking…" Harry paused here, and gave me a wary glance. "Well, I wondered if Stuart and I could maybe work together, and maybe even get a place to live in together after I leave school. Do you think the Ministry might agree to him knowing about magic when we're grown up, if I asked them very nicely?"

"You mean, will they break a highly important international law that's been in existence for centuries just because you're polite in requesting them to? Why of course, I'm sure that'll be no problem at all."

"Aunt Petunia says that sarcasm is the lowest form of wit, Professor."

"Well, she should know."

He sniggered. "But seriously, would they allow it?"

I considered this. "Potentially. Assuming you could put forward a convincing argument at the time, of course. You'd be right not to try it before you are both adults."

"I'll start to think about ways to convince them," Harry said happily, "and then Stuart and I will be together for good. Oh, and there'd be a guest bedroom in our house for you to stay in as well, whenever you aren't at Hogwarts."

"Why, thank you."

Harry frowned. "You will come and stay, won't you?"

If we emerge victorious from the inescapable conflict to come, yes. If I survive. If Stuart survives. If Harry survives. If the Dark Lord and his vicious followers can finally be wiped out. If normal life as we know it is allowed to continue. If…

"Yes Harry, I'd be delighted to."

I was teaching a sixth year Potions class one Wednesday afternoon when a letter popped into the air beside me. This was not at all a good sign. I guessed that the letter would have been sent from Mafty and that he considered it to be urgent or he would not have disturbed me in class.

"Go on with your work," I told the students, who were looking across with interest. I opened the letter.

"Master Snape, please go to Privet Drive as soon as you can. Master Harry is not injured, but you is needed there."

There were fifteen more minutes of the lesson to go, and they dragged unmercifully. Fortunately, it was the last class of the day. I waited impatiently until the lesson was done and the students departed before quickly flooing to Spinner's End, and then (since there seemed to be a call for it) apparating directly into the hallway of the Dursleys' house.

All I could hear when I landed was shouting. Everyone seemed to be in the kitchen and yelling at each other.

"What's going on?" I asked, when I was finally able to get their attention.

"Professor!" Harry sobbed. He was crying and looked traumatised. "You have to help it! Uncle Vernon says nothing can be done and we should just put it by the side of the road…"

"Put what?"

Harry moved aside and pointed to the table. There was a ginger cat lying there. It was a shocking sight, partly because its limbs were unnaturally twisted and partly because of the sheer incongruity of the Dursleys allowing a strange animal to occupy their kitchen table. It mewed pitifully.

"How did this happen?"

"Dudley did it!" Harry yelled. "He fell on it and I heard snapping!"

"It was an accident," Dudley said, looking petrified.

"Yes, that's right," Petunia said quickly. "Piers and Dudley were playing in the garden and the cat jumped in at the wrong moment. It's not Dudley's fault!"

"Never mind whose fault it is," I said. "This cat is badly injured and needs veterinary assistance immediately."

"We're not going to the vet!" Vernon thundered. "You don't realise the implications. We can't risk it!"

I went to the cat and cast a diagnostic spell. It looked up at me, as if asking a question. "Your injuries are serious, but we're going to get you help," I said to it gently.

"I told you we're—"

"I don't care what you think, I will take it to the vet," I interrupted. "Do you know where the nearest one is? I don't know enough about animal-related healing spells to try and treat it myself."

Vernon reached over and grabbed me by the arm. "Look Snape, let me make the situation clear. I've seen this cat around. It belongs to the Bristows, from number eight. They're both senior police officers. Mrs. Bristow is an Assistant Chief Constable! If you take this cat to a vet then they'll want details of how it got injured and who was to blame. What if they find out what happened? What if they prosecute Dudley? He'll never get in to Smeltings then!"

I shook off his arm and looked at him with disgust. "So we just let the cat die because trying to save it might be inconvenient, is that it? I think not. A man takes responsibility for his own actions, Mr. Dursley. Your son needs to learn that lesson too. The cat was injured here so we will ensure it gets the appropriate treatment."

"NO, WE WON'T! No vet, not under any circumstances! It'll probably be fine by the morning anyway."

I did not even bother to contradict this palpable lie. "Very well, if it can't be a vet then I'll deal with this the magical way. Mafty!"

The elf appeared, making the Dursleys jump. "That thing again!" Vernon yelled. "The boy brought it here earlier and I told it to go away. Get it out of here at once!"

I took no notice. "Mafty, I need to get this cat back to Hogwarts for treatment. Go back there and find Hagrid and Professor Kettleburn. Explain to them that I have a badly injured muggle cat and I need their help. Ask them if they can please come to my office right away."

"Yes, Master Snape."

I picked up the cat as softly as I could, but he still made sounds of pain. "It'll be better soon, I promise. Harry, I assure you this cat will get the best of care. I'll be back in Hogwarts shortly and we'll look after it. Now, you try and calm down please. I'll come back later and let you know what's happened, okay?"

"Okay," Harry sniffed.

I would have liked to stay and comfort him, but the animal had to be the priority just then. I left the house and walked down the street quickly. Harry would doubtless have assumed that I was going to a quiet location in order to apparate or call the Knight Bus, but either option was far too risky for transporting a such a fragile animal. I therefore made my way to Wisteria Walk and knocked on the door. Mrs. Figg was not at home, but a quick unlocking spell gave me entry to the premises, from where I could floo back to Hogwarts. Hagrid and Professor Kettleburn arrived soon after, much to my relief.

"Thank you both for coming. This muggle cat has been crushed. Are you able to help it? Animal welfare spells are not my speciality, I'm afraid."

Hagrid's face took on a mushy sort of expression. "Poor little critter!"

"Yes indeed," Silvanus Kettleburn said. "Don't worry Severus, I've plenty of general purpose spells that should do the trick. Now, let's see what we have here, shall we? Pop him on the desk and I'll take a look."

I felt a wave of relief as I watched Silvanus open the gladstone bag which he always used when attending a sick animal. It was small outside but a vast size inside, containing all kinds of instruments for use with animal care. At least now, I thought, the cat was getting competent treatment. For the next hour he worked on it tirelessly, while I was sent to fetch this potion and that potion like an errand boy and Hagrid murmured soppy nothings at the now unconscious cat.

There is often something deeply satisfying in watching someone who knows instinctively what to do while they perform great magic. Silvanus was in his element as he applied all kinds of spells and moved his wand confidently across the cat's body. Slowly, the injuries were healing as a result. As I observed him, it brought back a memory from a couple of years ago of myself working on a particularly challenging potion, late one night. I'd locked the door to my brewing room, but the Headmaster was not one to be halted in his tracks by such petty inconveniences. He made his way in, though I didn't notice because I was facing away from the door and lost in concentration as I worked frantically to stabilise my failing potion. Once this was done and I could relax again, he coughed to drawn my attention to his presence and said with a smile:

"You dance when you brew potions, Severus."

And what kind of imbecilic nonsense was that, I thought at the time? I can't remember what my reply was, though you can be assured that it was something derisive. But as I saw Silvanus at work, I understood exactly what Dumbledore meant. This was dancing – this movement, this confidence, this rhythm and focus. It was fascinating to behold. No wonder the Headmaster had watched over me for nearly twenty minutes while I worked on that potion!

You know, it's disturbing how often I've been forced to admit within the pages of this journal that the Headmaster was right and I was wrong. Fortunately, he'll never know that I did so.

Not so fast, Severus – I think you might be underestimating me there.

Lily, that is absolutely not funny!

Sev, where has your sense of humour gone! I found it amusing anyway…

"I think we've done as much as we can for now," Silvanus said at the end. This was a generous way of putting it, considering I'd only provided the necessary potions and Hagrid had done nothing at all. "I don't know if he'll make it, poor thing, but he's got a fairly good chance. Sixty/forty, would be my guess."

"Thank you for making the attempt, anyway," I said sincerely.

"Oh, you're welcome. It makes a difference from my normal larger than life creature encounters! Now, he needs to stay warm and still to let the spells work, but you can levitate him to your quarters for the night if you like, Severus. Make sure to give him another dose of that potion every four hours – spell it straight into his stomach, because he'll be asleep for twelve hours with the potions he's had already. In the morning before breakfast, if you move him back here then I'll come round and look at him again. If he makes it through the night then he'll probably recover, and if that happens then he should be well enough to go home in a day or so."

I nodded resignedly. Every four hours for the whole night… sleep would not be happening much. "Very well."

"I can take 'im tonight if you like, Professor."

I considered this offer with some longing, but reluctantly dismissed it. As I'd brought this animal to the school, it was my job to ensure that he was looked after. After all, I was the one who'd just lectured Vernon Dursley on taking responsibility for his own actions, and these days I was trying to avoid over-indulging in rampant hypocrisy. Besides, Hagrid's dog was so large that he could accidentally flatten this cat while leaning over to scratch himself. "Thank you Hagrid, but I'd prefer to supervise him personally. I do appreciate the offer."

"Yer' welcome, Professor." He gave the cat a little scratch behind the ears. "What's the little fella's name, by the way?"

"I don't know. He's from a house close to where a friend of mine lives, but I've not seen him before."

Professor Kettleburn leaned over and checked the tag on his collar. "Looks like he's called Whiffle. Unless that's some strange muggle term that I've never heard of?"

"I don't think so," I said. "Whiffle it is, then. And thank you again, Silvanus. I hope you'll permit me to take you out for a few drinks in Hogsmeade one evening soon to express my gratitude? And you too, Hagrid."

"Sounds good to me!"

"And me as well, thank yer' Professor."

My two colleagues then left me to it. I took the cat back to my quarters and made up a cosy bed for him by the fire. I was hungry, but decided to get the inevitable unpleasantness at Privet Drive over with first and returned to Surrey. I spotted Harry looking anxiously out of his bedroom window as I walked up the road. He darted away as soon as he saw me, so it was no surprise that he had the front door opened by the time I got to the house.

"Is the cat okay? Will he be all right?"

"That remains to be seen, but he's had all the right treatment and he's sleeping peacefully now. We'll know more in the morning."

Harry sighed with relief. "But he's got a good chance, right Professor?"

I did not consider sixty/forty to be a good chance at all, and I hovered for a second between a bluntly truthful answer and a kind lie. In the end, I chose neither. "It's too uncertain to say, Harry. Professor Kettleburn told me that we'll know in the morning, either way."

He sighed. "Well, I'm going to believe that he'll be fine. Who is Professor Kettleburn? You've told me about quite a few of the other Professors but I don't remember his name."

"He is the Care of Magical Creatures Professor. He did an excellent job of taking care of the cat earlier, and our groundskeeper Hagrid also provided support."

"That was good of them both. I'll write to them and say thank you for what they've done."

"That would be a kind gesture. And by the way, the cat's name is Whiffle."

Harry grinned. "That's a silly name."

"I won't disagree with you there. Well, I'd better be on my way. I'll call back tomorrow with an update at around 7.00 am."

"No, don't go yet," Harry urged. "I think you'd better speak to the Dursleys. They've been flapping about since you left about stupid Dudley losing his chance to go to stupid smelly Smeltings. Which he deserves, after what he did."

"Perhaps, but don't forget that it's in our interest for him to be down to attend Smeltings, because that's helping to keep him in line at your school. He doesn't pick on you or your friends any more, does he?"

"No. I guess it's useful in that way… I just really hated to see Whiffle get hurt."

I patted him on the shoulder and smiled approvingly. "You are a kind person, Harry. It's one of the characteristics which I like best in you."

He blushed. "Come in, then."

We joined the Dursleys, and I provided them with a similar update on the cat's condition.

"But will it live?" Petunia asked fretfully.

"That, I cannot answer until tomorrow. I'll call round in the morning with a progress report."

"This is a fine situation and no mistake!" Vernon said, pacing the living room floor anxiously. "Now the Bristows will be thinking their cat's gone missing. They might start printing off posters of it and sticking them on lamp posts and all sorts!"

"Mr. Dursley, cats wander off all the time, and generally their owners don't panic until the absence is of more extended duration. If this particular cat gets better then it will be ready to bring back to Privet Drive in a day or so."

"A day or so! Why not right away?"

"Because it cannot be moved until it's healed. That is perhaps one advantage of not using a muggle vet, as the cat's recovery there would probably have taken much longer."

"And cost a fortune," Vernon added darkly. "Why do you think we don't have a pet? Because being a vet is a licence to print money, that's why! One of my colleagues at work, they've got a dog and it had to have a simple little operation last week. Do you know how much that cost? Two hundred pounds! When you think about it, I did you a favour by refusing to go to the vet," he finished smugly.

I looked at him with considerable dislike. "That's hardly my view. And let me remind you that we're not out of the woods yet, Mr. Dursley."

"Meaning what?"

"That you will need a cover story, in case the Bristows find out what happened and come to the house."

"But how will they find out?" Petunia said. "If none of us tells them —"

"Didn't you say that Dudley was playing with Piers at the time of the incident?" I asked. "Piers wasn't in the house when I arrived earlier. Did you swear him to secrecy before his departure? What if he tells his parents?"

The Dursleys looked horrified. "We didn't think about that," Petunia replied fretfully. "Vernon came home early because he'd been playing golf with Trevor Braystoke from Accounts this afternoon and their game was rained off. We were talking about that, and then Harry came in from the kitchen and started yelling that the cat had… well, Piers went home right away, it seemed best."

"Then he's your weak link," I pointed out. "You need to make sure that he'll keep quiet. If it's too late for that, and the Bristows find out, then the best approach to take is that you didn't know whose cat it was, so you took it to a vet who's a friend of yours and you're waiting to hear how he does. The vet's identity has to be kept secret because he's treating the cat for free as a special favour to you and he can't let his boss find out. At least then you'll be perceived as helpful people who tried to remedy the situation."

Vernon nodded firmly. "Yes. Yes, that'll do it. Dudley, you need to go round to see Piers right away. Try and get him to keep this to himself. If not then find out who he's told, then come straight back, understood?"

Dudley frowned. "I want to talk to him first," he said, pointing at me. "I want to ask him stuff."

"Well, go on then."

"No, I want to speak to him on his own. It's important."

Vernon shot an interrogative glance at me, and I shrugged to indicate that I had no more idea what this was about than he did. "Well… if you must, son. You can use the kitchen."

It was rather strange to sit down at my normal place, but to be accompanied by a different boy. Dudley was fidgeting and clearly nervous. "What's this about, Mr. Dursley?"

He pulled a face. I knew it to be the one he used when he was concentrating hard on a particular thought process. "It was an accident. The cat, I mean. I didn't squash it on purpose."

I realised that he actually sounded sincere about this. Interesting… "Tell me what happened."

"Well... Piers and me were in the garden. There was no school this afternoon because of teacher training. It wasn't raining here then, and we were messing around with some water pistols."

"And was the cat there right from the start?"

"No. It must have jumped over the fence later. I didn't see… we were busy."

"I understand. And how did the cat become injured?"

He gulped. "My water pistols were empty but Piers still had some water in one of his. I was dodging him but I slipped, the ground was wet because we'd been using the water pistols for ages, and the cat was just there, and..."

"And?"

"It all happened at once!" he burst out. "I fell on it and there was this big crunch. I got up right away but it was all smashed up. Piers started yelling that it was dead, and then Harry came out and he shouted that I'd killed it. But I didn't Professor, I didn't!"

"What about Piers, what did he say then?"

"He just said he'd better go home and ran off."

A coward then, running away from trouble. That could be useful. It probably meant… "I'm hopeful that he will not have said anything to anyone about this whole affair. That would certainly be better for all concerned."

"I'll tell him not to," Dudley said, with a return to his usual threatening manner. "I'll make him keep it a secret."

"Mr. Dursley, it's over two hours since the cat was hurt. He could have told half of Little Whinging by now if he wanted to. Ask him, don't tell him."

"Piers wouldn't say anything anyway; he's my friend."

"Well then, let's not worry about that. Why did you want to see me alone?"

"Because Harry keeps saying I meant to hurt the cat. I didn't, honest! Can you tell him he's wrong?"

I considered this, and looked at the boy in front of me. "It really was an accident?"

"Yeah."

I decided that he was telling the truth. "I will speak to Harry. But you understand, don't you, why he was so reluctant to believe you? It's because you have a long history of cruelty to him, and to others. And if you'd be cruel to another person then why would you not harm a cat as well?"

"But I told you, I didn't harm it – not on purpose."

"And I believe you, really, I do. What you need to understand however is that deliberately attacking a small, defenceless animal seems to Harry like exactly the sort of thing which you'd take pleasure in doing. Now, why do you think that is?"

His eyes met mine for a long minute, and I thought that I'd connected with him, that he understood… but then the connection was broken, and he looked away with a sneer. "Harry's an idiot. Mum and Dad always say so."

"Perhaps they wouldn't, if they knew that the most intelligent children in your year are in the Alpha group, not the Beta group." I saw his quick glance of alarm and smiled. "Don't worry, Mr. Dursley, I'm not doing to give you away. And as I say, I'll have a talk with Harry. If we're done here then why don't you go and send him to me?"

Dudley took no notice of this. He didn't move from his chair, and the concentrating look appeared once more. "Dad said before that it would have been better to leave the cat by the road, so people would think it had been hit by a car. He said that was the only sensible option."

"Well, clearly it wasn't, given what has happened since."

"Dad said we needed to think about what was best for me, that's why we had to do it."

"And do you agree with that?"

"Dad said—"

"Never mind him, what do you think?"

Dudley gulped. "I didn't mean to hurt the cat."

"I accept that. I know you're telling the truth. But of more interest to me right now is what happened afterwards. Specifically, what your father said and whether you agree with him – or with me."

I stared at him calmly, watching the twitch of his hand and the beads of sweat form on his forehead. There was silence in the room. I waited.

After about a minute of incredibly strained quiet, Dudley leapt up. "I'll tell Harry," he said, and rushed out.

Interesting indeed… not so much that the damage to Whiffle was accidental, but that Dudley was so anxious for Harry and I to understand that. He'd certainly never given a damn about our opinion of him before, so why would it matter to him now? It was curious that he hadn't wanted to be thought of as one who might deliberately hurt an animal. Perhaps there was hope for him yet.

Harry re-joined me at this point, looking expectant. "So, what was all that about?"

"Your cousin wanted to tell me that the damage he did to Whiffle was accidental."

Harry snorted with derision. "As if anyone would believe that!"

"I do believe it, Harry."

He stared at me. "But Professor, you know he lies, all the time!"

"I do, but I questioned him carefully about it, and for this one instance, I am quite sure that he was not lying."

Harry looked at me defiantly. "I'm not convinced of that."

"Harry, you didn't actually see the cat get injured, did you?"

"Well, no… I heard the cracking and the shouts, and then I looked out of the kitchen window. I still think he did it, though!"

"That's understandable, and you can go on thinking so if you want to. When somebody lies most of the time like he does then it's natural to disbelieve them all of the time. However, I am a teacher and I have been for some years. I've heard every type of lie, evasion and half truth there is from the students of Hogwarts. I can tell when somebody is being truthful, and he is. So Harry, I'd like you to do something for me."

"What?"

"Let the matter drop. Don't keep accusing Dudley of deliberately hurting Whiffle."

He looked doubtful. "If he did do it then that just lets him get away with it."

"But even if he is guilty then you can't prove that. You weren't a witness, don't forget."

"What about Piers? He was there, he saw the whole thing."

"You mean Dudley's best friend and confidant Piers, the one who shot off to avoid getting into trouble?"

Harry sighed. "I know, he wouldn't admit anything."

"No, but Harry… I'm asking you to trust me. Don't think about Dudley or Piers, think only about me. Will you at least give me the benefit of the doubt? I am quite certain that your cousin is an innocent boy in this. I'm therefore asking you to let it go."

He thought about it for a minute and then smiled. "It's kind of weird to think Dudley might be the one that's being wrongly accused for once, instead of me."

"We live in strange times, Harry."

"I don't know why you're defending him though," he said, though the tone of his voice was thoughtful rather than angry.

"Well, partly because he asked me to. And also, because over the past year or so I've developed an interest in being fair and applying integrity to all parts of my life. Strange times indeed…"

"Okay then," Harry decided, "I won't bring it up any more, and I won't say that Dudley hurt Whiffle on purpose. But, if one day it turns out he did then you have to give me a massive apology."

"Agreed." We shook hands on it, smiling at one another.

"You know Professor, I was thinking before about Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon."

"Yes?"

"You were right about them. You said they haven't brought Dudley up with the right values, and that they're teaching him just to be selfish. And then today, Uncle Vernon kept saying to Dudley that we should just leave Whiffle and dump him somewhere, because helping him might stop Dudley from going to Smeltings. That was all wrong, wasn't it?"

"Yes, I believe so."

"And then I called for Mafty and asked for his support, but he wasn't sure what to do, so he got you to come. And you took charge right away and got Whiffle some help!" Harry said, looking proud. "You didn't pay attention to Uncle Vernon or anything. I really liked that."

"I'm glad you requested my presence. I would have come immediately but I was in class. And now, I'd better return to the school."

"I'll see you in the morning. I bet you'll have good news."

Back at Hogwarts, I found Whiffle still sleeping peacefully. I remained in my rooms for the rest of the evening to monitor him. As previously mentioned in this journal, I have no particular fondness for cats – but this one seemed like a pleasant enough example of the breed, and I wished it well.

The rest of the night consisted of a few short bursts of sleep, intermingled with the unwelcome sound of an alarm going off so that I could provide Whiffle with more potions. He remained obstinately alive, and by 6am when I was showered, dressed and ready for another working day, he was starting to wake up. I stroked him gently as he came to.

"It seems that you're going to live, Whiffle. Harry will be very pleased." The cat meowed, as if he was agreeing with me. "Don't worry, you'll be going home soon. By this evening or tomorrow, I hope."

It occurred to me that I had not asked Silvanus if it would be acceptable to feed him. I decided that some water wouldn't hurt at least, and conjured a bowl of it which he drank steadily.

"That seems to have done the trick. You must have been very thirsty."

The cat got up, rather wobbly at first, and started to wander round my living room. "Can you manage here alone for a little while?" I said. "I've just remembered that I didn't clean down the Potions classroom last night. I won't be long."

I took silence for consent and made my way to the classroom. Much to my relief, it was clean and tidy. I found a note from Joshua Hutchinson on the desk.

"Hi, Professor. It isn't my normal day to tidy up, but people were saying at dinner that you had a sick cat to look after, so I figured I'd pop by and sort things out here. Tell me all about it next time you see me! Josh"

Well, I was surprised that he'd heard about the cat but I suppose I shouldn't have been; if three people know a secret and one of them is Hagrid then basically you no longer have a secret. But in any case, Joshua's help was useful, since it meant that all I needed to do was quickly prepare for the morning's classes, collect Whiffle and bring him to my office for his next examination.

"He's doing fine, isn't he?" I asked.

"Oh, splendidly!" Silvanus agreed. "Even better than I'd hoped. I think you can take him home this evening. Another few does of this potion here… I'll administer one now, and then if you apply another at lunch and one after afternoon classes are done then that should be all this little one needs."

The little one in question was currently gnawing at the sleeve of my robe. "He's becoming quite active."

"A good sign, Severus! Yes, he's well on the mend now."

"Can I leave him in my living room today?"

"Yes, as long as you move anything breakable out, and put a spell to guard the fireplace, just in case."

"And feeding him? I gave him water before, but no food yet."

"A small meal, I think, that should be fine. You can feed him again at lunch, but again just a small amount. Best that he go home ready for a meal because his owners will probably feed him when they see him. Leave him water when you go out, he can have as much as he needs." Whiffle made his way over to Silvanus and licked his hand. "Quite intelligent, for a muggle cat, isn't he?"

"Yes," I replied. I considered the implied suggestion that muggle cats as a whole were less intelligent then magical ones. Perhaps they were, I didn't really know. Kneazles of course are very clever, but if you were talking about a simple cat… well, maybe a cat living in a magical household could pick up a thing or two that their muggle counterparts could not. "Thank you again, Silvanus. Your help is greatly appreciated."

Needless to say, when I returned to Privet Drive before breakfast and delivered the good news then the relief was universal. I was informed that Piers had agreed to keep quiet about things and there was no sign of any panic at Chez Bristow. It was agreed that I'd bring the cat back late that evening after dark, so that hopefully nobody would spot me, and the Bristows would just believe that their pet had been out for some kind of prolonged feline spree.

And so the matter of the injured cat was successfully resolved. I don't know if there were any changes in the relationship between Dudley and his father as a result, though outwardly all seemed the same. The only ongoing consequence was that Whiffle, who previously none of us knew very much about, now developed a real interest in number 4 Privet Drive. He visited the back garden or the front lawn on a daily basis, much to the Dursleys' disquiet. Harry and I were treated with favour, and Whiffle liked it when we stroked him or talked to him. Petunia was mostly ignored, but Dudley and Vernon received the full force of Whiffle's hissing displeasure whenever they got anywhere near him. The cat did not attack them, but he did make his feelings abundantly clear. And of course, it wasn't as if they could complain to the Bristows about it…

That cat seems to be one who can bear a grudge. I suppose I should feel sorry for the Dursleys, but mostly I feel that they all deserve it.

Harry and I made the most of the still reasonably warm weather from mid September to early October when planning our Saturday excursions. On one afternoon we visited Lake Windermere and spent a couple of hours walking and boating. While we enjoyed afternoon tea in a hotel restaurant, Harry started to tell me about a new topic he was studying at school.

"It's just for this term and next, and only for classes in my year," he said. "It's meant to help us get ready for secondary school. I know I'm not going to one, but it's still interesting. The class is called 'Good decisions and better actions', but the teacher Mr. Winchester calls it Ethics 101."

"Really? I hope that doesn't mean you need to learn a hundred and one things about ethics, because that would be quite challenging."

Harry giggled. "No, it just means ethics for beginners. Mr. Winchester is American and he says that's how they describe it there. It's more fun than other classes because we do a lot of talking and imagining things."

"Ah, so you like this new class?"

"Yeah, though it's kind of tough sometimes. I mean, all of my other classes are about learning stuff – I mean, just ordinary facts – but ethics is different. It kind of means you learn about yourself, and other people, and that's way harder."

"I don't think I follow you."

"Well, each lesson Mr. Winchester gives us a fictional topic to think about and we have to have a class discussion about what the ethical thing would be to do in that situation. Like, last lesson it was about a group of people on a coach, and the driver took the wrong road and then the coach had a burst tyre and it hit a tree when they were miles from anywhere, and the driver couldn't get it started again. This was in America, by the way. Mr. Winchester gave us some 'big facts' to think about – that's what he calls them. Like, what the local area was like; there were mountains, but they were high and quite dangerous. There was a river and a forest where we might find help, but some bears lived near there. Also, some people were injured and other people regularly needed medicine and they only had a limited amount with them. And as well, one person was a good runner and somebody else had been in the Army, and some people were nice but others were selfish. It was all written down on a piece of paper, which had a map of the area on it as well. So then, Mr. Winchester told us that we were in charge of the bus and we needed to decide what should happen next, and we had a big talk about the best way forward."

"That's an interesting scenario," I said appreciatively. "I imagine there were a lot of different opinions."

"Yeah, there were. Some people wanted to stay on the bus until help came but I thought they wouldn't find us because we weren't where we were meant to be. But let me tell you what my plan was! There were fifteen people on the bus, and I decided to send out two search parties in different directions to look for help. I told them to walk to the parts where there shouldn't be any bears. I picked the young and fit people to go, and we made some weapons from bits of the bus for them, just in case they met any bears on the way. The rest of the people stayed on the bus, and we kept guard in turns just in case bears came near. I collected all of the food and drink people had and split it up equally before the search teams left. Some of the selfish passengers didn't like giving up their food, but I told them that they had no choice and I got the others to back me up."

"Hmm, very assertive of you. So, were you all rescued?"

"Well, probably," Harry said proudly. "Mr. Winchester said my plan was one of the best and we stood a pretty good chance of making it out. He said that in some situations you'd be better staying with your vehicle, but there were times when you had to take a risk and leave. He was pleased that I was thinking about the other passengers and their safety. He gave me really good marks! The only things he disagreed with was the fact that I didn't keep any younger people on the bus to help protect the older ones, and also my bear weapons, because he said that fighting a bear never works and just makes them angry. Mind you, he also said that I wasn't to know that, because we don't have loose bears in Britain."

"A fair point. I can see why you're finding this class interesting."

"It's got a lot to it," Harry said thoughtfully. "I mean, when Mr. Winchester said we were in charge, I knew that I wanted to save everyone and look after them. But some of the others thought that it should be everyone for themselves. Cameron and Ramona said they'd just grab as much food as they could and walk back the way the bus had come down the road. They said it was the driver's job to protect people. I pointed out that the driver was a bit injured and couldn't do much, but they said that wasn't their problem. Mr. Winchester didn't approve of that, I can tell you! Though he was very friendly when he explained why."

"And Nathan and Stuart – what did they think?"

"The same as me, that we had to help everyone," Harry replied. "Though they had different ideas for how to rescue the passengers. Stuart decided to unscrew the seats and make a raft out of them, and Nathan wanted to paint an SOS on top of the bus so that search and rescue aircraft could find it."

"Yes, because of course buses invariably have in-built paint storage facilities."

Harry snorted with laughter. "I know, but Nathan said that one of the passengers might have paint with them, or if there wasn't any paint then white stones would do instead. He's pretty adaptable like that."

"A useful trait for one who wishes to join the Royal Air Force."

"Yeah. But there's something else I want to tell you about ethics class. It's about Dudley, and my aunt and uncle."

"Oh yes of course, Dudley will be studying ethics as well, won't he? What does he make of it?"

Harry grinned. "He hates it. He does as little as possible in the Beta group's class, from what I've heard. He gets really low marks, but Uncle Vernon doesn't mind because he says ethics is a sissy subject and only good for idiots."

"Naturally, he would fail to see the relevance of a topic intended to teach children good principles for their future life…" I murmured.

"I guess so, but that wasn't what I wanted to tell you." Harry frowned. "It's just…"

"Yes?"

"You won't be angry when I tell you this, will you?" he said nervously.

"Usually when a child asks me that, it means that there is definitely something valid to be angry about," I commented dryly. "I can't promise not to be angry because I don't know what you're about to tell me, but I assure you that I won't over-react."

"Well, Mr. Winchester says that we learn ethics to ask questions of ourselves about whether we're doing things the right way or the wrong way. And that can be painful."

"Yes, I can certainly support that point of view. So, do you think that you're doing something wrong?"

"No, I think we are," he said, looking at me carefully. "I mean, about the Dursleys. We always make fun of them and laugh about them to ourselves – how big Dudley is, and so on. I've always liked that, but I don't know if it's right any more."

I was nonplussed by this. Surely it wasn't wrong to mock such awful people in private conversation? "We don't say such things to the Dursleys," I pointed out. "It's just between the two of us."

"But even so, maybe we should be nicer. Mr. Winchester's talked a lot about being kind to other people, even in our private thoughts."

I had up to this point regarded Harry's new teacher with approval, but this was starting to fade. What had the man been saying to Harry? "Have you spoken to him about the Dursleys?"

"Yeah, well not by name but I sort of referred to them when I stayed back after class last week. That lesson had been about a woman who'd been unpopular at work and all of the other people in her office gossiped about her behind her back. I asked Mr. Winchester if it was okay to talk about people that way if they weren't very nice. He said it was easy to be nice about nice people, but when you were dealing with not-nice people, that's the real test of your character."

I hesitated before replying. This Mr. Winchester seemed to have an idealised, sanctified view of a less than saintly world, but he obviously had value in Harry's eyes so it would not do to insult him. "Ethics is important," I said eventually. "As you know, I have been working hard to become a better person myself in the last year. However, many actions have different interpretations. I have always thought that the mockery to which we subject the Dursleys has offered a helpful outlet for your feelings towards them. I did not see it as harmful, because they have not known about it."

"I know, and it's not like I think well of the Dursleys or anything. I mean, they are bad people, I know that – but when I explained about that to Mr. Winchester, he said it was about me, not them, and the kind of person that I wanted to be."

"And what kind of person is that?"

"Well… the kind that my parents would be proud of – and you, as well. So it doesn't seem right to mock other people, you know?"

Had we not been in a public space, I would have reached out to give him a hug. As it was, I simply patted him on the shoulder. "I am already deeply proud of you, and they would be too. You're a finer person than I ever could be."

"I don't know about that," he said modestly. "I felt pretty bad when Mr. Winchester explained how the lady in the office was upset when she overheard some of her colleagues laughing at how tight her clothes were and how much weight she'd put on while she was on holiday. That's not so different to what we do, is it?"

I shook my head. "I think it is very different. The Dursleys have always mistreated you, Harry. Do they deserve your compassion? I would say not. However, if you can find it in your heart to be concerned about this after all of your suffering at their hands then I am certainly not the one to oppose you. So let us agree that from now on we will say nothing to ourselves about the Dursleys that we wouldn't say to their face, and we will not mock their appearance or other such things. Is that all right?"

Harry beamed at me. "Yes, it's great. I'll feel better if we do that. I should have known you'd understand. Thank you, Professor."

I nodded and smiled. In truth, I didn't really feel that a little quiet maligning of those tremendously unpleasant people hurt anyone, but it wasn't the first time that Harry had taught me a lesson in kindness and consideration for others. I am a man who is fighting to overcome his faults, but I'm still cynical and prejudiced and consistently, solidly human in my failings. Harry's heart and mind and soul, in contrast, are bright and honourable and unwarped. There are times when I am awed beyond measure by his quiet integrity, and this was certainly one of those times. If it mattered to him that we make this change then I was more than willing to follow his lead.

Two weeks later, Harry and I attended a country park in Shropshire and watched a historical re-enactment society host a medieval jousting tournament. Harry's thoughts these days were turning increasingly to Hogwarts, now that his arrival was less than a year away. He brought this up while we were eating a hearty lunch of meat and vegetable stew in a suitably medieval tent, served by cheerful 'wenches'. After we'd finished our meal, Harry gave me a meaningful glance.

"Professor, can you…"

I knew this meant that he wanted me to cast a privacy charm, and I surreptitiously did so. "Go ahead."

"Thanks. I wanted to talk to you about when I go to Hogwarts. On the first of September next year, I mean. I'm a bit worried about the train journey."

"Oh? Why?"

"What if I don't have anyone to sit with? I don't know anyone. I might be all on my own for hours."

I smiled indulgently. "That is very unlikely to happen. You'll meet other first years and sit with them, I'm sure."

"But what if I don't?" he said anxiously. "You never know, I might be the only person without someone to sit with. That would be embarrassing. The other students might laugh at me."

I considered this. It was probably pointless to mention that thousands of new first years had started at Hogwarts previously and they'd all survived the terrifying ordeal of 'travel by train', so I was sure that he would too. I was tempted to tease him, but sometimes in the past I'd joked about things which Harry took seriously and I did not want to make that mistake again.

"You know Harry, every month or so I hold a discussion group with those Slytherins who are interested and help them to develop useful life skills. One of those skills is problem solving. I think it could be beneficial for you to learn more about this."

"Why?"

"Because you have a problem, obviously."

"Yes but, it's not like I can do anything about it," Harry said. "I'll find someone to sit with if I'm lucky, and otherwise I won't. You can't solve a problem like that in advance."

"I would disagree. Shall I explain a little further?"

"Okay," he said, looking interested.

"Problem solving strategies can be complex, but I'll keep this very simple. Broadly speaking, there are three types of problem; ones you can solve yourself, ones that need help from others to solve and ones which can't be solved at all at this time. Can you give me an example of each type?"

He frowned with concentration. "Well, for the first one I was working with Amy in my class on a history project a couple of weeks ago. It was about the Battle of Hastings in 1066. She didn't like the project and I was having to do most of the work. In the end I told her that either she helped or I'd have to ask Mr. Broadstairs to give me a different person to work with because I couldn't do it alone, and I didn't want to get in trouble for not finishing the project. That went okay, and she did her share of the work after that."

"Yes, that's a good example. So, the second type of problem?"

"That's easy – the Dursleys. I couldn't stop them being nasty to me on my own, but with your help, everything got better."

I felt warm inside, a fierce sudden glow. "Thank you. And the last type?"

"Well, I suppose that would be the fact that I have to go on living at Privet Drive. When I'm grown up I can move out, but not till then."

"That's correct. Well done, Harry. Now, your problem is that you're worried about the possibility of having to sit on the Hogwarts Express alone. Which category of problem is that?"

He frowned. "We'll… I'd say it was a problem I can't solve, at least not before I'm on the platform, but if that was so then I guess we wouldn't be having this talk at all."

I smiled. "Smart boy. I'd categorise it as a problem which you can solve yourself – though you might need some explanatory help from me, but it's certainly solvable."

"Yes, but how?"

"One of the simplest problem solving approaches which I teach the Slytherins to use is a technique called DPI. D stands for 'define your objective', P stands for 'plan how to achieve it' and I stands for 'implement that plan'. So, let's start with D. Your are concerned about being alone on the train. Would you be happy to sit with any students, or would certain types be better than others?"

"Hmm… well, it would be good if they were nice to me. And if they were the same age."

"Sensible criteria," I said approvingly. "Some of the older students might try and scare you by fibbing about Hogwarts customs and so on. Now, imagine that it's September the first, and there you are in front of the Hogwarts Express. The platform is filled with students and their relatives. You might end up chatting to some of them, you might not, but you don't want to leave that to chance."

"So there are things I can do now to make sure that I meet other people to sit with? I mean, it's nearly eleven months away."

"You don't have to take any practical measures in advance. You just need a tactic for use on the day. Shall I tell you how I would approach this situation, if I were you?"

"Yes please," he replied gratefully.

"Well, firstly you need to be thinking about the different types of students and how to tell them apart. Ideally, you don't want to sit with older students, as we've established. They're mostly easy to spot, not only because they're usually taller, but they'll be casually strolling round and looking for their friends."

"But first year students might have friends there too, mightn't they? Or older brothers and sisters?"

"Of course, and those first years aren't your best bet either. No, what you want to locate are other first years who, like you, are on their own. There are a couple of ways in which these can be identified and distinguished from the smaller second years, whom they could potentially be mistaken for. For one thing, the first year students may well look a little nervous or worried. Like you, they won't know quite what to expect. Second years and above won't be nervous because they've done this journey at least three times already. Also, parents who've seen their children off to school before are much more nonchalant about the whole process. You can identify whether the students are muggleborn or not by how their parents are dressed. Another good clue is that muggleborn parents of first year students will be staring at everything in awe, because it's all new to them and they haven't been on the platform before. These are the types of things you will need to be thinking about, so that you can look over the crowd and find suitable first year students to travel with."

"So to do that, the plan would be what exactly?"

"Firstly, we arrive at the station quite early on – say, at around 10.15. The train is there from 09.00. Then we find a compartment in the middle of the train and stow your luggage. I can wait by it to ensure that nobody else commandeers it if you like. And while I'm doing that…"

"Oh, I see!" Harry said, looking excited. "I get there early to look for first years, right? I go up and down the platform and watch people. Look for the nerves, and so on. Look for the parents who are kind of struggling, because it's the first time they've sent their kids away. Work out which students are in the same boat as me."

"Precisely, and then – well, this is the part which requires a little courage. If you find someone who seems suitable for you then you walk up to them and introduce yourself. Tell them your name, be polite, say that you're a first year and you don't know anyone. Ask them if they're on their own, and if so would they like to share your compartment? It's as simple as that."

"But they might say no."

"Possibly, but if you're nice about it and throw in a winning smile then they'll certainly not take offence. And more than likely, the student you pick will be delighted to be picked – after all, they'll want someone to sit with as well. On the off-chance that they'd prefer to be alone, or that they are waiting for someone else to arrive, just say goodbye and go and look for someone else. You can practice doing all of this with me at some point, if you like."

"Right… I can see how all that would work well. I'll be happy to try that on the day. But Professor, I still don't understand how this solves my problem. I can't do the I for implement until I'm on the platform next September, after all."

"On the contrary, you have already implemented a solution."

"No I haven't! That doesn't make any sense."

"What I've said only seems not to make sense because you haven't yet appreciated what your problem actually is. In this instance, the planning and implementing stages of solving your problem are basically the same thing. Remember that defining the problem is the first step, Harry. You told me you were worried that you'd be alone on the train. I have now explained a strategy which you can use to prevent that from happening. Are you still worried?"

"No, I suppose not," he said wonderingly. "So, the worry was the problem, not the journey itself? I get it. That's really clever, Professor!"

"Yes, isn't it?" I said smugly. "I still think you'd be fine anyway, but there's no harm in making sure."

Shortly afterwards we went back to the field of battle to watch the jousting finals, but Harry returned to the subject after we'd apparated back to Surrey and were walking along to Privet Drive.

"I've been thinking about the Hogwarts train," he said. "There's another way in which I could solve my problem."

"Most problems have multiple solutions, it's true. One of the things which I teach my Slytherins is how to evaluate potential options and select the best one."

"Yeah. I mean, I really like your solution but there is a better one."

"And that is?"

"I could get to know another wizard now, someone who's around my age so they'll be starting school the same time as me. Then we could arrange to meet each other on the platform."

"And where will you find this other wizard, hmm? Are you planning to take out an advertisement in the Daily Prophet – 'lonely ten year old boy seeks similar for rail-related adventure leading to potential Hogwarts friendship, no time wasters please'?"

"No, obviously not," he said sarcastically. "I kind of thought you might know somebody. I mean, if they're starting at school next year then they must be on a list somewhere."

"They are. So, you would like me to facilitate an introduction?"

"Yes. Can you?"

I mulled this over. "Potentially. I would have to ask the Headmaster's permission, however."

"Him," Harry said grumpily. "You know what I think about him getting to make decisions about my life."

"I believe you may have mentioned it once or twice."

"If he says no then I'm going to—"

"Write him a strongly worded letter? Challenge him to a duel? Poison his morning coffee?"

"Maybe just the letter," Harry said, clearly amused although trying to hide it.

"I'll speak to him tonight and let you know. It should be acceptable, but best to check."

I met with the Headmaster that evening and explained the situation. He was quite amenable to Harry's request, though his proposed solution, well…

"You could take Harry over to the Weasley residence, Severus. Their son Ronald starts at Hogwarts next year, after all."

I groaned. "Not another one…"

"And I believe young Ginevra follows along the year after that. She is the last, however."

"I should think so! But do you think that Mr. and Mrs. Weasley would permit a Slytherin Professor who's bullied multiple children of theirs to enter their home?"

Dumbledore smiled reassuringly. "I would be happy to contact them and explain the situation."

Well, that would be useful, but…

"Headmaster, there is more to this than a simple request to meet another young wizard. At the moment, only a few people know about the connection between Harry and myself. This could lead to our relationship being revealed prematurely as a result."

"If it happens now rather than next September then is that really a problem?"

"Perhaps not. But people will think that I am making some kind of power play by influencing the young Boy Who Lived. They might be jealous, resentful or concerned. The Slytherins might think… well, I'm not sure what they will think."

"Well then, we can address that if I assist you with the reveal of your relationship with Harry. A photograph in the Daily Prophet of the three of us strolling around Diagon Alley together should quieten down suspicions, don't you think? And you will manage the Slytherins, as you always have."

"Except, what will I do when Harry comes to Hogwarts and clashes with his Slytherin peers? Each will expect me to be on their side in any argument."

"You will be fair, or as fair as you can be. Nothing more can be asked of you."

I sighed heavily. "I have been giving some thought to stepping down as head of Slytherin from next year."

Dumbledore frowned. "And why would that be?"

"Because my first job is to look after Harry, and the Slytherins deserve a head of house who can focus exclusively on them."

"I would rather you not make any rush decisions on that score, Severus. I think you should let Harry come to Hogwarts and then see if you can manage both roles. If you cannot then by all means, you may step down. After all, even as just a Potions master you will doubtless need to resolve arguments between Harry and Slytherin students. You can't escape that by not being a head of house."

"That is true," I conceded. "However, I feel honour bound to make the offer of resignation to the Slytherins now, in the circumstances."

"I have no problem with that, since I'm confident they won't take you up on it," he replied with a smile. "Now, as for the rest, I will swear the Weasleys to secrecy for now and explain it's for Harry's safety. Let me arrange a meeting with them and we'll see how it goes."

I thanked him and left it at that. Dumbledore made the arrangements, and it was agreed that I would take Harry over to visit the Weasley home on a Saturday in mid-October. We agreed that I would remain in my office at Hogwarts after dropping him off, and Mrs. Weasley could contact me via floo when it was time for Harry to be collected. I was sorry not to spend much time with Harry that day, but it did seem like a good step for him to make more friends in the magical world.

And so I apparated Harry to Diagon Alley and then we went via floo into the Burrow. I spent some time beforehand warning him that he was to take no notice of any critical statements made by the Weasleys about myself or Slytherin house. On arrival, we found two over-friendly adults plus two nervous children waiting for us; the older Weasleys were of course still at school. I performed introductions and told Harry that I'd be back for him whenever he was ready, and I hoped he had a good time. He nodded shyly, and I could see him glancing all around with interest.

I returned to my study and sat down. It was not easy to take Harry to someone else's house and leave him there, even if it was the ultra-light Weasleys, and with the Headmaster's consent at that. I put my mind to completing some correspondence and told myself not to worry. On the slim chance that there were any problems, Mrs. Weasley knew how to get in touch with me. The likely finish to the visit would be that I'd collect a happy Harry who was tired out from running round with the Weasley children all day (or at least from after the first hour, once they'd all stopped being polite to each other). Everything, I told myself firmly, would be absolutely fine.

Everything was not absolutely fine.

Molly Weasley's anxious face appeared in the fire a couple of hours later. "Professor, can you come through? Harry's a bit, well…"

"I'm coming," I said immediately. I rushed over to the fireplace and flooed through to the Burrow. "Where is he, Mrs. Weasley?"

"He's outside, Professor. He climbed one of the trees and refuses to come down. Ron and Harry had an argument, and I think Harry was a bit unhappy afterwards. I could have used a spell to bring him down but I thought you might want to talk to him first."

"I will. What was the argument about?" I aimed this question at Ronald Weasley who looked at me awkwardly.

"Erm, nothing much," he replied unconvincingly.

"You mean it was about me," I said, glaring sternly in his direction.

"I didn't say anything bad about you, Professor," he said, clearly lying. "We just didn't agree on some stuff, that's all. We were talking about, erm, quidditch."

I decided not to waste any more time on him. "I'll go and see Harry," I told Mrs. Weasley. "Thank you for summoning me."

I found Harry, as advertised, sitting in the branches of a tree. It was situated next to a flagstone path which wound its way sinuously across the garden. Harry had been crying, and I felt worried to see his evident distress.

"Harry, do you want to come down and we can talk about this?"

"Go away," he said gruffly. "I want to be on my own."

"I don't think that would be a very good idea. We should discuss what's upsetting you."

"It's no use!" Harry said, wiping away his tears.

I sighed and considered my next move. It would be easy enough to retrieve him using magic, but I'd rather he climbed down of his own accord. In the end, I conjured a ladder and climbed up it so that I could get close enough for a good talk.

"Harry, I'm sorry that you had a row with Mr. Weasley but I'm sure you can patch things up. Why don't you come down and we'll see him together."

"I don't want to!"

"Come on Harry, you won't solve your problems perched up here, you know. Do you need some help to get down?"

"No I don't! Just leave me alone!"

I reached out my hand, and then... well, then things really became problematic. Harry twisted round, trying to climb higher into the branches. I saw his foot swing out and move towards the top of the ladder. I think there was some kind of small explosion too – accidental magic, I suspect. It all happened so very quickly; the ladder shook, it slipped away from the tree and both it and myself started to topple to the ground.

I wonder how much time there was between my outstretched hand and the end of my fall. Five seconds, perhaps? It felt longer, but time is deceptive in such instances, so let's say five seconds. I have a very clear recollection of my thought processes during that time. My mental narrative was as follows:

I'm falling! The damn ladder's gone! Where's Harry, is he falling too? Don't think so. Have to stop, might hit the path, might hurt myself. Where's my wand? Can't find it, can't get to my pocket, need my wand, where's the bloody thing! Fine, use a wandless spell, I can do that. Wingardium Levio—

One syllable too short.