The Burdens Of Childhood

By Melissa Jooty (email me at cosmic_quest@yahoo.com)

CHAPTER EIGHT- Padfoot's Pup

Stepping towards the Great Hall with his classmates, Harry Potter felt like he'd come home. The summer had been surprisingly pleasant with the Dursleys' nauseating attempts to be vaguely kind to him after they were firmly reminded by brightest of the wizarding world it was in their best interests to treat their nephew with respect then escaping to spend the last wonderful fortnight of the summer holidays at the Burrow with the Weasleys' and Hermione. But for Harry, the place he felt truly comfortable and at peace with himself was Hogwarts.

And this year promised to be an improvement over his previous years; certainly it couldn't be any worse than his Fifth Year where they had to suffer the torture of that sanctimonious demon woman Umbridge for the first term for DADA until she was overheard confessing her attempts to harm Harry and dismissed to be replaced by Remus Lupin. Then at the end of the year, Sirius nearly died in a battle against the Death Eaters in the heart of the Ministry building itself. His reward for his willingness to sacrifice his life for the Light was paid in due when Peter Pettigrew was seen alive and well by many thus proving Sirius' innocence in the murders of the Potters' and the twelve Muggles.

Nonetheless, it took a few weeks for Harry to come to terms with nearly losing his beloved godfather, his only 'real' family aside from Remus, when the January of this year death had caressed its cold, callous fingers over the school touching staff and students alike when Professor Severus Snape- spy for the Light- disappeared and was presumed dead.

It was revelation of bittersweet irony but the boy would have given anything to go back to eight months ago and revel in the company of a scowling Snape. He never would have imagined the pain of losing his Potions' Master would far outweigh any grief he felt following the death of Cedric Diggory. Only through his death had Harry realized that while Cedric was a nice boy who didn't deserve to die at sixteen, his teacher was a constant in his life and his presence touched him since the day he first entered Hogwarts five years ago.

Snape's death hit everyone hard. Even those who had supposedly loathed him, like Sirius and many of the students felt a pang of grief for a man who had walked the thin line between Light and Dark on behalf of the innocents he sought to protect. Astonishingly, Harry had noticed Draco Malfoy and a number of the Slytherins did not seemed as pain-stricken as one would have imagined the loss of a favourite teacher would have caused. Perhaps, Slytherin *was* a House of heartless monsters and emotionally-blank robots.

Except in the second week at the Burrow, when late night wanders for lack of anything to do had led him, Ron and Hermione to accidentally-deliberately-on-purpose eavesdropped on the whispers of the adults discussing new evidence hinting Snape was very much alive. The absence of Sirius, who had promised he was pop in to visit in the final week of the holidays, and the fact that Remus had been placed as acting Headmaster while Dumbledore and McGonagall were on an important errand confirmed to Harry that there must be some truth in this claim.

All an owl to Remus had yielded was a pledge all would be revealed at the Sorting.

"Perhaps Snape's 'death' was all a ruse," Hermione suggested, her voice pitched low and only audible to the two boys walking beside her. "Part of a major spying operation."

"Yeah, or maybe Voldemort had kept him prisoner," Harry said, thoughtfully. "It would explain why Sirius, Dumbledore and McGonagall were all away to get him."

"But why McGonagall?" asked Ron. "Would it not be better to send someone stronger like Lupin or even Bill?"

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Really, Ron, that is so sexist; brute strength is not everything. Professor McGonagall did not become deputy Head for nothing; she is a very powerful witch, for your information."

"Well, I don't really care, I can't believe I'm saying this but I'm just glad Snape's back. I hope this means we don't have to put up with that bloody Drouin any more."

Harry had to agree. Dumbledore must have hired their new Potions' professor Fuscienne Drouin from the pits of Hell, her sharp attitude and intolerance to even a hint of ignorance to potions had been enough to make Snape seem positively chirpy in comparison. Not quite on the same atrocious level as Umbridge, Drouin did take immense pleasure humiliating her students, setting at least three hours of homework each night, deducting points from all *four* Houses and every single pupil and basically turning Potions into a living nightmare the like of which not even Snape could have inflicted. At least some of Snape's sarcastic cracks could be funny if they were directed at someone else; Harry thought if Drouin were to smile, or smirk in Snape's case, her face would shatter and her tirades were merely yawn-inspiring.

"I reckon he'll start teaching straightaway," said Harry. "I mean, have you ever known Snape take a day off?"

"Er...I don't think Professor Snape will be doing much teaching..." Hermione trailed off, her eyes fixed to an object ahead of them as they finally entered the Great Hall.

The boys followed her line of vision to the Head Table and were left mesmerised by what they saw, and they were not the only ones. The entire student body did not know where to look first; Sirius Black, the world's most notorious criminal- now acquitted- seated on Dumbledore's right, or the little dark-haired boy perched between Sirius and Remus, a child who bore a striking resemblance to their dreaded and presumed dead Potions Master. Although the little boy wore the uniform of Hogsmeade Primary School, when he scowled at the sudden interest he had garnered from the older children, there was no doubt in anyone's mind that this was Severus Snape.

Gasps and astonished whispers burst throughout the entire Great Hall until Dumbledore clapped his hands to appeal for calm.

"Children," he called, when silence finally dawned, "please sit down so we may begin the Sorting."

Reluctantly, the children all took their seats at their respective tables. Harry had to tear his eyes from the child and it was only when Sirius smiled and winked at him, a silent promise he would see his godson later, that he followed his friends to the Gryffindor table. Finally, when the older pupils were all seated and quiet, the First Years were led into the Great Hall by McGonagall and Hagrid. Suddenly, the youngest students of the school did not seem as small now that everyone's attention was on the mini Snape sitting at the Head Table.

"That can't be Snape," Ron hissed to Harry and Hermione, "he's too...cute."

Hermione shrugged. "Maybe it's his son."

"Two Snapes in this world. Merlin, that's even worse!"

"No, it has to be Snape," Harry murmured. "Look at him, who else could it be?"

Hushed whispers were still passing back and forth among the Second to Seventh Years as the Sorting began. McGonagall had to call the name at the top of the register twice before a pre-occupied girl jerked her gaze away from Sirius to step up to the Sorting Hat. It was apparent even the First Years familiar with the wizarding world were keen to stare at the newcomers at the Head Table, although the boy who looked like Snape was secondary to them when they were more interested in Sirius and looking around for the famous Harry Potter.

Had Harry been paying attention to his classmates, he would have smiled proudly at the commotion his godfather was causing, however he was too focused on the child. Over the past few months, he had experienced a number of visions involving the Dark Lord searching for something and, looking at the boy sitting under the protective gazes of the Hogwarts staff, Harry had to wonder if that something could be this odd child? Deep down, he knew the answer; he sensed the little boy shared a connection to Voldemort and, in turn, Harry and this child were kindred spirits.

He felt a pang of pity for the boy. There were days when he wondered if he would live to see another day in this never-ending battle against the Dark Lord, and he was nearing manhood. What chance did a little tot have?

*That's what Voldemort said about a year-old baby one Halloween fifteen years ago,* Harry sardonically contemplated, unexpectedly bolstered by his own miracle. *And that's what Voldemort's prized Death Eaters thought about a group of Fifth Years last year and each of them are now in Azkaban, their capture due to those very same children they underestimated.*

He shook off the depressing thoughts that were plaguing him increasingly over these last months, threatening to overwhelm him. This year, Harry was not alone and, taking in the way Sirius and Remus distracted their tiny charge into a happier mood, the kid was not alone either.

The little Snape boy was captivated by the Sorting Hat's song then merrily clapped when the first few First Years were assigned their House. By the eleventh student, however, the child was evidently growing bored, fidgeting with the protesting chess pieces he clutched in each hand. Harry couldn't help empathise with him; the Sorting ceremony could be quite tedious even to the sixteen-year-old.

At some point during Dumbledore's words of welcome, the child actually disappeared from the table and it was only Sirius hauled him back up to his chair that Harry realized the boy had slid down to play on the floor.

"What's up, mate?" Ron asked, when the Feast began. "You seem awfully distracted."

"Yeah, I'm fine," replied Harry, piling food onto his plate. He always ate better at Hogwarts. "Just thinking."

Hermione regarded him in concern. "Harry, I doubt this will change things between you and Sirius. You're still his godson and I bet he's looking forward to spending more time with you."

Harry blushed, embarrassed she had detected his fleeting jealousy of seeing Sirius looking so fatherly with the little boy. Hermione's world may have revolved for the most part around her studies and her books, nonetheless when it came to her two closest friends, she could be so sensitive of them.

"I know," Harry said, "I just didn't think he'd be here. He never even told me he was staying here."

Ron shrugged. "If that kid is Snape, he probably couldn't tell anyone what was going on in case the owls were intercepted."

"Ron is right, Harry," said Hermione. "Not even Remus would tell us anything so it must all be top secret." Her eyebrow raised in a curious mixture of chastisement and anticipation. "I'm sure it won't take us long to wangle all the information out now that we're at Hogwarts."

Harry and Ron grinned. "You took the words right out of my mouth, Hermione," Harry replied.

By the time desert was served half-an-hour into the Feast, Harry noticed the little boy's tedium had reached a peak and he was resting his head on the table between periods of shredding all the napkins within his reach and sawing away at the table with his dinner knife. Sirius reached over to say something to Dumbledore, who nodded, then proceeded to gather the boy in his arms before retreating from the Great Hall through the teachers' entrance with his charge in tow.

Sometime after, the desert dishes disappeared and Dumbledore stood up to give his usual spiel about no magic in the corridors and prohibiting students from entering the Forbidden Forest.

Abruptly, the Headmaster's tone sobered and the twinkling of his eyes diminished. "And finally, children, as much as it pains me to remind you so, we must all be vigilant this year of all that is suspicious now that the rising of You-Know-Who is apparent. These are to be difficult times for us all and I expect each of you to remain on your guard and report anything that concerns you to a member of staff." He paused. "I'm sure you all saw the small boy sitting with Sirius Black and noticed he resembled our dear former Potions Master Severus Snape whom is thought to have died last year. Well, fortunately, that was incorrect and the child is indeed Severus Snape cursed into that six-year-old form by followers of the Dark Lord."

Mutterings ripped throughout the entire Great Hall as the stunned children struggled to accept their hated Potions Master was now a pixie-faced boy and the startling realization that if a wizard as magically capable as Snape could fall foul to the Dark Lord then the situation was truly dire. Harry glanced around, his eyes falling onto the Slytherin table where Draco Malfoy sat between Crabbe and Goyle not looking in the least surprised by this news. In fact, a number of Slytherin students shared his nonchalance.

Suddenly, it all made sense; no wonder Malfoy and his cronies had never grieved for Snape, the Death Eater initiates must have known their teacher was alive and living in the form of a child. Feeling Harry's heavy glare boring into him, Malfoy glanced up to smirk knowingly at Harry giving a mock salute.

Dumbledore cleared his throat and the pupils fell silent. "I don't need to warn you that You-Know-Who still sees Hogwarts as a target, now more than ever, and he is determined to claim young Severus into his custody. Now, I strive to provide sanctuary for all my children and I hope you will all assist *me* in protecting the youngest member of our school just as he once protected you. If you see Severus wandering alone or doing something dangerous please bring him to his temporary guardian Sirius Black or a member of staff. Please remember, he is a six-year-old child like any other and I hope you will all treat him as such. Thank you, I trust you will show Severus Hogwarts truly is home to the cream of young wizarding society."

Once he ordered the prefects to escort the First Years to their towers, the excited chattering resumed once more with the tiny Snape being the topic of conversation for everyone. While Hermione and Ron, as prefects, had left with the First Years, Harry lingered unable to shake Malfoy's taunting grin from his mind. He was starting to wonder if Hogwarts was not the safe haven the Headmaster professed it was and if it was such a wise decision of the Order to send little Snape to Hogwarts, home to the home to the cream of young wizarding society and the young Death Eater community.

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Harry Potter was not the only Sixth Year so completely captivated by Hogwarts' tiny Potions Master; three tables away, Draco Malfoy also found himself neglecting his friends in favour of studying the small boy sitting up at the Head Table. Unlike the majority of the school, his father had informed him eight months ago of Professor Snape's accident and he thought he had been suitably ready for today, except how does one prepare to see their teacher looking and behaving like a child? A part of Draco hadn't really accepted his father's version of Snape being cursed to six years old and he at least been expecting Snape to be a young adult or teenager around his age.

Not this...this tiny *infant*.

And the moment he set eyes upon the young Snape all his plans to force his intended victim to submit to their Lord, using systematic bullying and isolating him from Dumbledore's precious Gryffindors, flew out the window. How could Father expect him to deliver a baby to their Master? He wasn't stupid; he knew that while Lord Voldemort would pave the way to a cleansing of Muggles and Mudbloods, his crimes of sheer brutality and torture were unparamount to any dark lord the wizarding world had ever known. Regardless of what Potter and his little gang of sheep thought of him, Draco was not without morals and he had to question if it was right to deliver a child into the hands of a madman, genius though he was.

His questioning of his father's orders went beyond the innocence of this little boy; his Head of House had done so much for him both during his Hogwarts years and in his early childhood, and this was how Draco repaid him? Snape was the only man, aside from his father, who would lay down his life for him and although Potter and those imbecilic Gryffindors could rot in hell for all he cared, he could not send his former Potions Master willingly into the hands of a man who could hurt him.

Yet, it burned Draco to see the through-and-through Slytherin Snape being cared for by filthy Gryffindor scum like that convict Black and his pet werewolf Lupin. How dare Dumbledore commit such a sin? He should have placed the boy with a decent Slytherin family such as his parents or the Zabinis'. Merlin, even those vermin Weasleys' were the better option over Lupin and Black when Dumbledore knew how much Snape loathed the pair. It sickened Draco to see the Headmaster have his merry way treating young Snape like his precious Potter, sucking up to the child and disregarding the opinion of what the adult Snape would have preferred.

No, he might not be so ready to indoctorate Snape into Death Eater thinking but he would ensure the child was aware of his rightful Slytherin roots. Perhaps once the miniaturised Potions Master saw the Gryffindors for the disgusting cretins they were, he would push for new custodians. Smirking across at Potter who was scowling back, Draco rather liked that thought.

He had always wanted a little brother and Severus Malfoy had a nice ring to it even if he did say so himself...

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Not for the first time, Harry was very grateful he was lumbered with all the duties of a prefect. He didn't have to patience to wait around for the prefect meeting Ron and Hermione had to attend and was free to immediately seek out Sirius after the Feast. Creeping through the quiet corridors towards Sirius' rooms, part of the boy was excited in envisaging meeting this odd man-child in his godfather's life with another part of him almost apprehensive of being so close to a kid who was, for all intents and purposes, *Snape*.

Breathing deeply as he summoned forth all his Gryffindor courage, he knocked on the heavy oak door of Sirius' quarters. There was no reason for him to afraid of a toddler when he was the boy who had faced down Voldemort both when he was a baby and every year since he was eleven. What was one six-year-old in comparison to the Dark Lord? And if this kid proved he shared many slimy attributes with his elder self, well, Harry was in seniority now. Not only was he a good decade older but he once refused to be cowed by his Potions Master, why should he start with a pre-school brat?

"Hiya, Harry," Sirius grinned, when he swung the oak door open to reveal the teenager. Harry barely had a chance to breathe before his godfather had pulled him into a tight embrace. "It's great to see you again."

"You too," Harry smiled when Sirius finally released him. "I've really missed you."

Sirius glowered, his eyes now a cold blue. "Those relations of yours not giving you any trouble, I hope?"

"No, no, they were better this year but, you know..." He shrugged helplessly. What could he say about people who barely tolerated his presence let alone accepted him as their flesh-and-blood nephew?

"It's a sin that woman's related to Lily, easy to see who inherited all the heart. You mother would have been furious if she saw how her so-called sister was treating her only son."

Harry gazed down at his feet, uncomfortable. He never enjoyed talking about his home life, not even with his best friends or godfather. He felt oddly ashamed when he knew even those who loved him dearly here in this world expected him to be an untainted saviour. Of course, this year he might not have the choice since Uncle Vernon had made it clear he was, at sixteen, now legally an adult and they did not have to provide a roof over his head no matter what Dumbledore said. He couldn't really blame them when the previous summer their son nearly lost his sanity to a Dementor and the threat of Voldemort launching a full attack on him was increasingly mounting.

Harry shifted, hoping to divert this conversation. These were worries he would consider later, just now he only wanted to be with his godfather. "Er, so where is...?"

Sirius nudged him good-naturedly. "You want to see the wee man, don't you? Hey, Sev, come here a minute, there's someone I want you to meet."

Harry took a moment to glance around the living room. Sirius had never been the tidiest of people but today the room seriously looked like a hurricane had hit it. A chess board was wedged between the settee cushions with the pieces lined up on the floor beside a model castle and various toy figures. Tiny green robes were flung over the coffee table with little shoes peeking from under the settee. In one corner, wizarding comics were scattered beside moving pictures obviously painted with animation paints and the light carpet seemed to be sticky with what looked like chocolate and caramel.

The little boy appeared from one of the bedrooms at Sirius' call, shyly moving to his guardian's side when he noticed the older boy. Despite himself, Harry couldn't help but stare at him, fascinated by how small and cherubic his hated Potions Master looked. The severe lines etched into Snape's face from years of stress and bitterness was gone and replaced with baby soft skin blooming a healthy glow so lacking in his adult form. Where before the professor's eyes were blank of emotion, those dark eyes were now open and innocent.

And Harry never thought he'd see the day when Snape would be dressed in pyjamas adorned with moving dragons and unicorns, his face smeared with chocolate.

He blinked at the sound of Sirius voice startling him up from his child teacher. "Severus, I'd like you to meet my godson Harry. Harry, this is Sev." The last sentence was meant to remind Harry to refer to the child by his Christian name.

"Eh, hi, Sev," Harry managed to force out uncertainly.

"Hi, Harry," greeted the boy. "Are you in Gryffindor too? Sirius and Remus were, so was Headmaster and 'fessor McGonagall."

The teenager was a little surprised by the lack of venom and bite in the younger boy's voice and he was starting to understand why Sirius was so carefree with him when Snape would usually put him on edge. This child was a clean slate; he didn't know Harry or the Marauders or anyone else and he seemed less all like his elder self and more the typical six-year-old.

It was a surreal realization for Harry, who was only beginning to let go of his childish perceptions of black and white and see the world in many shade of grey. Had Snape once been a sweet child like any other; if so, did the same apply to Malfoy and the other Slytherins? At what point did their innocence end and the bitter, traitorous darkness replace it?

"Yes," Harry answered, relaxing in the boy's company. "It's a great House."

"Yeah, but not the best. Slytherin is, that's what I'm in." To his surprised, Harry realized the child was teasing him. "I read about you, it says you killed the Bad Man when you were a baby. Only you didn't do such a great job 'cause he's back."

"Severus!" Sirius scolded, glancing apologetically to his godson. "That's not very nice. And look at the state of you." He picked up a wet cloth that was lying on the mantelpiece and proceeded to wipe the struggling boy's face. Now Harry had seen it all; his careless godfather fussing like an old grandmother. "I told you no sweets at night time."

"I was hungry."

"You should have eaten your tea then."

"Sweets are better."

"Oh, really." Sirius dropped the cloth in favour of tickling the now giggling child.

Harry had never seen neither Snape nor Sirius smile so freely. He didn't care much for the adult Snape's welfare before and seeing him smile now didn't count since he was a child, however, it gladdened him no end to witness first-hand his godfather enjoying himself. Sirius had such a difficult life and although there was times he behaved as mischievous as him and Ron, his smiles never seemed to really reach his eyes.

Maybe fostering the little Snape would be good for him. He always worried Sirius was too impulsive and would end up dead trying to prove himself leaving Harry with no-one. Now that he had a direct responsibility in this little child not only was he happier but now he was tied down to Snape and was no longer free to volunteer for the more dangerous Order missions.

Snape- *Severus* (he'd have to remember to call the boy by his given name rather than by his surname or whatever insult his mind could fuel) gazed solemnly at Harry and for a brief moment the teenager caught a glimpse of adult intelligence shining in those dark orbs. "Are you like one of those child soldiers? The ones who fight wars in poor countries, I watched a programmed about them once."

Harry was lost for words and he heard Sirius inhaled sharply. "What makes you ask that, scamp?" the older man asked, striving to sound casual.

Severus shrugged. "It said in that book Harry is going to kill the Bad Man and he's not old, not like you anyway. The book calls you the Boy Who Lived, that's stupid 'cause all boys live."

Glancing sideways at Harry, Sirius tousled the small boy's hair. "These are not concerns for you to think about. Now go brush your teeth then you can pick a story to read before bed."

"But he's still up," whined Severus, pointing at Harry.

"Harry is much older than you," Sirius flinched, "God, I never thought I'd say that. Talk about feeling your age."

"Actually, *I'm* older than all the students here."

Harry expected Sirius to give in after a half-hearted argument but he was in for a surprise when the older man just snorted. "You can use that excuse when you're at least five feet tall and don't look so damned sweet in those little dungarees of yours.

"I'm not cute, I'm a boy," Severus protested, greatly affronted. "This is so insulting."

"What can I say, lad? Life's unfair. Now go off you go and I want to water running and the sounds of little teeth being brushed."

Grumbling and muttering under his breath, the child did stalk off towards the bathroom not without shooting Sirius one last glower.

"Is he always so..." He wasn't sure how to react to Severus' mini tantrum and watching Sirius behaving both patient and strict with the one man he used to hate with as much passion as he loathed Voldemort and Wormtail. He thought he'd seen everything the night Hagrid broke the news to him of his wizarding heritage on his eleventh birthday but life apparently never ceased to astonish him.

"Contradictory, yes. Sometimes I don't think he knows whether to be six or thirty-six. At bedtimes, he likes to push for the latter." When the trickles from the tap was heard from the bathroom, he smiled in satisfaction before turning his attention to Harry. "So, would you like some hot chocolate?"

Following Sirius into the small kitchen, Harry took the time to recollect his thoughts. Perhaps it was just as well he did not bring Ron; his friend would have had to be carted to the hospital wing with heart failure if he had witnessed little boy Snape and fatherly Sirius.

"It didn't think you had it in you," Harry admitted as Sirius poured out two mugs of hot chocolate.

"What- you thought I wouldn't cope either?" Sirius bristled, practically slamming down the pot of milk. "It's great to see everyone had such faith in me."

"No, no, it's not that," Harry quickly assured. "I just thought you'd always let him play up, get away with murder." The words 'Like you do with me' was implied in his tone.

He knew Sirius indulged him thoroughly and if it was not from his teachers and Molly Weasley there to ground him, he would probably have been in danger of becoming the spoilt brat Snape always assumed him to be.

"What can I say? There's nothing more sobering than having a child. Definitely changed your father and I think it's changing me too. You know, having him makes me see how stupid I've been with you."

"What are you talking about? You're great with me."

Sirius smiled faintly at Harry's sincere protest. "Yes, with the fun stuff. But it's time I stopped seeing James in you and allowed you to be Harry." Not for the first time tonight, Harry was left speechless. "I don't want you to be some bloody child soldier and I sure as hell don't want you to be like James or myself."

"What? Why not?"

"Look where being fearless got us," Sirius said, "we thought we could take on the world but now James is gone and I lost twelve years. I want better for you and I know your father would too." He took Harry's shoulders, drawing the boy closer. "It's time I stopped being your friend, Harry, you've got plenty of those...I want to be your godfather again, the man who will guide you when your dad can't. Do you think that's possible?"

Harry flung himself into Sirius' arms. "It always been possible." The two held each other for a long moment before Harry stepped back, regarding his godfather in mock suspicion. "I hope this doesn't mean you're become like Snape the Second or another mum because I have Mrs Weasley for that."

Sirius laughed. "Hell, no, it means no more encouraging you to risk your life, no more letting you listen in on Order meetings, no more escapades with the invisibility cloak." When Harry's eyes widened in horror, he grinned and patted his upper arm. "It'll be great, I think I'm fit for all this fatherhood malarkey." He lowered his voice conspiratorially. "Don't worry, I'll let you off with the cloak. After all, how else are you to uphold Gryffindor's honour and keep that Malfoy brat and his greasy Slytherins in place."

End of CHAPTER EIGHT- Padfoot's Pup


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I know I keep repeating myself with this but I'm really grateful to all the reviews you guys have left me. It's good to know everyone hasn't given up on this. Anyway, I hope you liked this story. I've made Harry a little less angry here since by my storyline he didn't have to put up with Umbridge for long and he had the support of Remus in her place. Also, while I liked he was darker in OotP, I didn't like how he suddenly became 'Kevin the Teenager' by shouting at his friends and generally acting like a spoilt brat blaming everyone for everything going wrong in his life. I've also made Draco more ambiguous since I never liked how Slytherins are all made to be evil and there's no way one House could be so dark.

In the next chapter, we'll see Malfoy senior and junior putting their first moves in their plans and wee Sev begins to see not everything Sirius tells him is true. Until then, please do review or send me an email to let me know what you think of the story. Thanks!

PS- bookofdays asked about the meaning of chapter seven's title. It's from the old nursery rhyme, 'What Are Little Boys Made Of?' which anyone who has little brothers will agree with:

'What are little boys made of?
Frogs and snails
And puppy-dog's tails;
That's what little boys are made of.

What are little girls made of?
Sugar and spice,
And all things nice,
That's what little girls are made of.'

That is the version I learnt from my Ladybird book of nursery rhymes, which was printed in the sixties or so. However, there is a version which substitutes the word 'snips' (whatever they are) in place of 'frogs' so risi is probably right about it depending on where you are though the snakes version would have suited Sev down to the ground!