A letter and a present from Hermione arrived first thing the morning of Harry's birthday, brought by Pigwidgeon. Harry grinned in pleasure as the little fluttering owl hopped up and down on the table. Snape glanced up from the book he was reading while abstractedly eating breakfast.

"That," he said incredulously, "is an owl?"

"Yeah, it's Ron's owl."

"Then all is now clear." Snape returned to his book.

Dear Harry

Ron sent me Pigwidgeon so I could write to you, that was thoughtful of him, wasn't it?

I hope you are all right. Ron told me you had been sick. I'll bet it wasn't much fun being ill at the Dursleys. Mind you, Ron says you're staying with Professor Snape now at Hogwarts. I must admit that surprised me. I wouldn't have thought nursing was quite his forte. Is he being OK with you? I mean I know you're not his favourite person, and everything, but Dumbledore obviously thought it was for the best.

I have had a very useful summer. I think it's very important to get down to some really hard work to prepare for the NEWTS. They're much more difficult than OWLs were, and you can't start getting ready soon enough, don't you agree? I really envy you being at Hogwarts, it must be so handy having the library there and everything.

I do hope I see you next week!

Love

Hermione

Harry patted the letter affectionately. Typical Hermione. It occurred to him, guiltily, that he hadn't set foot in the library. It had certainly never occurred to him that it might be a source of entertainment. Besides, if he wanted books, Snape's chambers were crammed to the ceiling with them.

Harry opened Hermione's present cautiously. One could never tell with Hermione. Sometimes her presents were totally cool, like the Broomstick Servicing Kit. Other times her studious inclinations got the better of her. He thought guiltily of his homework planner which had received very little use.

This was one of her more inspired moments. Harry beamed at the little magical music box. Hermione had already stored lots of his favourite music onto it, from both the Muggle and the wizarding worlds. He wanted to play it, but suspected that Snape might be one of those people who liked silence at the breakfast table.

Snape finished eating.

"Happy birthday, Mr Potter," he said.

"Thanks, Professor," Harry replied. He meant it. Few indeed were the birthdays when someone had actually said that to him, in person.

The next owl was from Hagrid. Snape looked irritated, and muttered something under his breath about his dungeons turning into the Owlery.

The letter from Hagrid was very short. Whatever he was doing, he clearly wanted to keep quite secret and give nothing away. He seemed to have decided the best way to achieve this was to say as little as possible. Harry opened Hagrid's present with especial care. You really never did know with Hagrid. He had funny ideas about what constituted a cute and cuddly gift.

This one was most odd, though. Harry stared at the random collection of talons and bits of bone. What was Hagrid thinking of?

Snape peered over his shoulder.

"Don't tell me, Potter: you don't know what these are."

"No," Harry admitted.

"They are Griffin remains, Potter. A very powerful magical protection, and eminently suited to a member of your House." Snape had even managed to refer to Gryffindor without spitting, Harry noticed. Maybe he was making an effort for his birthday!

Harry fingered the pieces. "What do you do with them?"

Snape considered him thoughtfully. "You find a friendly Potions Master and ask him to brew you a Griffin Elixir. It makes you much more resistant to bodily ills, whether physically or magically induced."

"Oh. Right." Harry looked at Snape sideways. "A friendly Potions Master."

"That's right, Mr Potter. Quite the dilemma you have there, isn't it?" His eyes glinted.

Harry chewed his lip contemplatively. He knew only one Potions Master, who at the moment was at least not being unfriendly, precisely. "Er, Professor - would you…please…..? I'll take your Potions research notes for you for a week…."

"So eager to spend more time in my company, Potter?"

Harry scowled at him. For some reason this made Snape smirk. "Anyway, Mr Potter, if you have quite finished with your menagerie I have something for you."

"For me?" Harry was astonished.

"A little gift from your relatives."

"From the Dursleys?"

"That is correct. I believe they, hem, surprised even themselves with the extent of their generosity."

Snape deposited a large bag in front of Harry. It was so heavy he had needed to use magic to transport it. Harry looked at the bag, looked at Snape, and then tentatively reached out a hand. He pulled the bag open, and gaped. The bag was stuffed with Galleons. There must be thousands of pounds worth here, Harry thought in incredulity.

"Where – what – how?" he managed.

"Eloquent as ever, Mr Potter," Snape commented. "I visited your relatives yesterday. I collected your birthday present."

"You – visited – the Dursleys? That's where you were yesterday when you set the house elves on me?" Harry looked at Snape uncertainly. Snape's face was enigmatic, as usual. Harry wished he was more adept at reading Snape's expressions. He was beginning to learn that they hid a far more complex array of thoughts and emotions than he had ever previously suspected. Harry was silent for a moment longer, then blurted out: "What did you do to them? Did you hurt them?"

"What would make you think that, Mr Potter?"

"Well, they would never give me a decent present, even. Never mind this. You must have done something to them…"

"Would you care, Mr Potter?"

Snape was watching him intently as if the answer to this question was important. Harry was bewildered.

"Well of course I would. They're my relatives! I can't stand them, but it doesn't mean I want them hurt…"

"A Gryffindor to the bone, Mr Potter. Except," Snape added with a chilly tinge to his voice, "when using deplorable and underhand tactics to cheat your way to victory at Quidditch."

Harry shook his head in amazement. He didn't especially want or need the money. His parents had left him pretty well off, financially. But…he found himself pleased, nevertheless, that the Dursleys had been obliged to part with it. They would have been most put out at having to do so. And they did deserve to be punished, Harry told himself. It wasn't right to treat someone the way the Dursleys had always treated him…

"What did you to them?" he repeated to Snape.

Snape told him.

Harry stared at him, mouth agape. Then he collapsed onto the floor and laughed so hard his stomach ached. He especially liked the thought of Dudley emitting the odour of raw sewerage. Snape watched him patiently, hands on hips, while Harry succumbed to his paroxysms.

"How – long - ?" he gasped, clutching his belly.

"Six weeks. Then all the spells will wear off."

There was definitely poetic justice in that. Harry managed to calm himself down somewhat, and then looked up at Snape.

"Why did you do it?"

Snape looked away. Harry realized, with astonishment, that he was witnessing deep embarrassment. Snape had been discovered in an act apparently inspired by compassion, and could clearly not cope with it at all.

"That is not important," Snape said gruffly. "I – also – have some other small thing for you. A mere token, since as our mutually ill-starred fortunes would have it, you happen to be with me on the day you come of age."

He thrust a small package at Harry and then retreated to the other side of the room, busying himself with quite unnecessary tasks. Harry fingered the little parcel. Presents on his birthday from the Dursleys and from Snape! He shook his head. Life was unfathomable sometimes.

Curiously, he unwrapped the gift. His fingers froze in shock when he saw what it was.

"Professor," he whispered. "I can't accept this."

"Don't be silly, Potter," Snape snapped. "It's nothing. Don't make a ridiculous fuss about it."

"It isn't nothing," Harry said. "It's amazing!"

And it was. It was a Fireheart stone. It was quite small, and polished smoothly into a perfect sphere. It was flawless. At first glance, it seemed to be a beautiful deep, clear turquoise. However, when Harry stared into it, other colours twisted and shimmered within. At the heart of stone a blue flame writhed. There was a little silver clasp attached to it, so that the stone could be hung around the neck. Harry had seen similar stones in Diagon Alley. They were very powerful magical conduits. They greatly enhanced the wearer's ability to perform wandless magic.

"It's fabulous, Professor," he said softly. "Thank you. Thank you so much."

"As I said, as I said, it's nothing," Snape muttered. "In pure-bred wizarding family it is tradition to give such stones when someone comes of age. As your family are Muggles, and consider tissue paper to be an acceptable gift… Do shut up blethering, Potter."

Harry smiled. Hermione and Ron were never going to believe this.

Snape made a vexed noise as yet another owl managed to find its way down into his dungeons. Harry was puzzled. The Weasleys, Hermione, Hagrid..who else would be sending him a present? Lupin could barely afford to buy the potion he so desperately needed each month, Harry thought regretfully.

But the owl wasn't for him. It glided across the room to Snape, who took the letter from its proffered leg.

Harry watched in puzzlement as Snape's hand closed around the parchment. His knuckles were white. And surely his fingers were trembling?

"What is it, Professor?" Harry asked quietly. "Is something wrong?"

"Nothing," Snape muttered. His voice was raspy. "It's nothing, nothing at all."

But his limbs seemed to be twitching oddly, Harry noticed, as he paced the room. This wasn't nothing, he was sure.