A/N: I own none of these characters except the parts I (perhaps wrongly) fleshed them out. And I'm certainly making no money from this, of course.

And here it is: the first chapter of Part the Third. May there be many more!

The title speaks for itself.

Chapter 1: Arrival

Tobias' fingers reached for his hair before he could stop himself. Sighing in part acquiescence, part despair, he let his fingers thoroughly ravage his silky hair, then restrained their nervous movement, smoothing down his hair with a muttered wandless spell.

Severus' eyes snapped to him immediately, but all he did this time was raise a bushy eyebrow. Tobias felt his cheeks heat up, but held his fa – uncle's gaze all the same. When Severus rolled his eyes and looked out of the compartment window instead, the blush deepened to its fullest extent, which, he knew well, was a pink sheen that only added a little more colour than was needed to his pale face. He shifted discreetly in his seat, steering his eyes away from his fa – uncle.

No mistakes. He could not afford them now, now that brewing and administering the complex Oppilavi potion was out of the question. Severus and Dumbledore had tersely pounded that fact into him – that despite Harry's now considerable skills as an Occlumens, Voldemort might inadvertently sense something from the dormant connection between them. Consequently, for the first two weeks at Hogwarts, Harry would continue to take the powerful blocking potion, then taper off its usage once he felt confident of the ability to think carefully. Of course, for sensitive discussions like the weekly meetings with Severus, Tobias would drink enough of the potion to keep his mind free of interference for as long as was needed, then extract the most potentially dangerous particulars of the meeting and swirl them into a special flask.

Tobias looked up at his – his uncle, and sighed. He'd known that he'd have to stop taking the unpalatable blocking potion at some point, and he'd known that keeping the fact of his survival a secret from Voldemort would take some serious manoeuvring, but seriously –

"Are you going to watch me throughout this journey, Tobias?" The question was asked in a mild (for his uncle) tone of voice, and the accompanying emotion Tobias could see in the dark eyes of his uncle was staggering.

Tobias could only look away, and mumble something indistinguishable in reply.

"There is no shame in professing to a case of nerves, boy." Tobias felt his eyes widen in shock as a slightly hysterical laugh fought for release. Nervous, indeed –

"Does the phrase 'nervous enough to piss yourself' mean anything to you?"

"The absence of nerves in your current state would be more a cause for concern than admiration, Tobias," Severus continued sharply, as if Tobias had never even spoken. Toby – it felt more natural that way, for now – snorted softly to himself. What a joke – he was sitting in what felt like someone else's skin, answering to someone else's name, taking on an identity at odds with everything he'd ever known, and his reaction to the entire bizarreness of the situation was normal.

Tobias – Toby snorted again. The irony was painful enough to make him wince. If only –

"However, there comes a certain point where to leave you to your own thoughts and devices," Severus sneered, "borders on the imprudent. Consequently – " he thoughtfully closed the slightly worn-looking Circumspect Cauldron magazine, " – you will recite for me the orders and uses of the protection charm – "

"Protego, you mean?" Tobias pressed, just to say something. His throat seemed to be functioning rather oddly – not really working –

"If I affirm your stupidity, I will be forced to do so again. Do not interrupt – as I was saying, you will recite for me the orders and uses of Protego, as well as the ten Words of Warding." Black eyes narrowed at a slightly startled Tobias. "Well? Begin. Immediately."

Tobias sighed expansively, just to remind his fa – uncle that he wasn't going to submit to this quite so readily.

"The orders of Protego are five, sir…" Quite so readily indeed. I'm starting to sound like him, for heavens' sake…

But the train journey passed easier, as Toby lost himself in the arcane theory surrounding some of the more innocuous spells he had learned in the last few awful and not-so-awful months. Because it was much easier to argue over the proper use of the Manipulation Charm than to think that he would be back in Hogwarts, sleeping in an unfamiliar bed, with unfamiliar dorm mates, and, of course, living what would most certainly be an unfamiliar life.

Severus gave Toby several long looks as they slipped through the Entrance Hall and darted down the twisted staircase on the left, the bumps and groans of his rather unwillingly hovering trunk following them as they made their way through numerous passages Tobias was sure he would never remember.

"Are you ready?" The question was almost too quiet to hear, but –

"Don't ask me that. There is no ready, now – I'll either conform or die," Toby replied, his words coming out far sharper than they were intended. Anxiety roiled anew in his stomach, but did not show on his new, blank face. The whole situation suddenly seemed ridiculously dangerous – something he would never be able to pull off. "Or perish, if you'd prefer."

"I've no idea why you persist in thinking I enjoy using overly complex words for simple things, Tobias," Severus retorted, the concern disappearing smoothly from his face. "Death is death, no matter how glorious the word or heroic the event. I suppose you understand your situation…partially." At the subsequent burning look of inquiry Tobias felt radiating from his traitorous pores, Severus – he – he actually smiled. "You left out an option, nephew mine."

"Really." Interesting how one could talk around teeth that were gritted in almost pure panic.

Really interesting –

"You may also disappear, if you fail to either conform or die. There is always escape, for the resourceful desperate." The statement so staggered Toby that it was a long moment – one filled with ensuring his trunk had not abandoned him – before he could actually think to ask what had occurred to him, on hearing that.

"And am I?"

"Hmm?" Severus gave him a rather negligent look, as if he'd not been listening, and could not care to. Toby pressed anyway – it was one of the talents he'd really learned in the dungeons of Snape Manor, really, to persist when his uncle seemed most indifferent.

It usually yielded the best results, so –

"Am I one of the resourceful desperate, uncle?" They were nearby – he could feel it from the way Severus seemed to slow, the way his back muscles clenched subtly.

"Not yet, Tobias – if you play your cards right." Toby wondered how on earth one could mix a threat and a good-luck wish so flawlessly, and –

Whispers from nearby, pitched high enough to be younger students, who would not think to pay attention to Tobias' last odd comment. At least it wasn't –

"Who's that?"

"Odd – he looks like – "

"Professor Snape! We didn't – ah – see you…"

The two Slytherin third years stuttered slightly under the pointed glare their Head of House sent their way as he strolled past them to the entrance to the Slytherin common room, followed by Toby, feeling decidedly ill at ease. As he looked upon the blank wall the students were now dithering in front of, all he could remember was his first and only foray into the common room that awaited him now.

The common room that had, through the twisted circumstances that brought him here, become his own.

"Inside the common room, Graham, Malcolm – you too, Dobbs," Snape added as a slim, frightened-looking girl slipped seemingly out of the blank wall before them. The three students obeyed instantly, scuttling into the low-roofed, cosy green-and-silver room, which was packed with noisy students. As Snape stepped into the common room, followed by the increasingly awkward-feeling Toby, the noise and chatter rapidly diminished, every eye turning to Severus Snape and his young, now scowling charge.

The scowl had really appeared without him thinking – softening it would serve no purpose.

Shite, Toby thought wildly, I do sound like him in my head.

Ugh. Just – ugh.

"Welcome back, all of you," Snape began easily. "I trust you've made good use of your two weeks of rest…now, as I warned you, this evening I have the honour of presenting to you all," he gestured slightly towards the boy beside him, "my apprentice and nephew, Tobias Snape." A series of polite nods in his direction, as well as a smattering of nervous applause, could be heard as Snape lightly cleared his throat and continued. "Tobias will be joining the sixth year in all but name. I trust," he eyed the nearby trio of Malfoy the younger, Crabbe and Goyle here, "that you will treat him well." He turned slightly towards his brooding, inwardly nervous nephew. "This is where I leave you, Tobias. Good evening…"

An amused expression somehow fought out the scowl on Toby's face as he made a short answer he hoped, hoped would be correct, under the circumstances.

"Thank you, sir."

"I'll see you get your timetable in the morning at breakfast," Snape continued, as the Slytherins in the common room slowly went back to their activities, the announcement evidently over. Toby nodded again, repeating his reply, acutely feeling the eyes of all the sixth years – and those of a good deal of the other Slytherins – on him. Snape nodded, then, after a seemingly cursory look around the common room, he left as silently as he came in, leaving the slender boy to the wolves.

Tobias tried not to cringe at his dramatically pounding heart, and stilled the automatic reflex of reaching for his wand as Draco approached him. He wondered angrily, irrationally, how Severus could have left him here, within two feet of a friendly Draco Malfoy, with nothing but unscrupulous Slytherins as an audience. An incantation had already begun to form on his lips as Draco eyed him appraisingly, but died a hasty death when the smug young manextended his hand in greeting.

"I'm Draco, Draco Malfoy," he said, genially, giving Toby's hand a light shake as his eyes seemed to follow something over Tobias' shoulder. Har – oh god, Tobias quelled the urges to retch, kick the smug bastard in the nuts, and slice him open with a well-chosen Diffindo, and simply accepted the handshake, ignoring the other urge to look over his shoulder into the bargain. "These are my friends – " friends, ha – "Vince and Greg. You'll meet everyone else later at dinner – that's in an hour or so, I think. I take it that that's your trunk…?"

Tobias held the condescending glance those hateful grey eyes threw him, and forced his features into a condescending half-smile. He'd be damned, damned to darkest hell, if he let this little – this utter bastard intimidate him in any way.

"Of course. Interesting décor you have in here, by the way." A little lift of the upper lift, a little emphasis on the accent, and voila – condescension returned. "Very comfortable." Emphasise the last word, and hey presto! An insult, disguised as a compliment.

Besides, Toby thought smugly, as surprise flickered in Draco's eyes – can't call him Malfoy, now, can I? Bad memories, there – might make me a tad unbalanced, really – it was only what he was meant to do, show strength in the face of Draco's bent for acquiring minions, and acquire allies of his own. Rival Draco in his little dream for the domination of the House – all in the interest of the Order, of course.

If every confrontation with him went like this, Toby thought he'd have to give them up. Spying was supposed to be dangerous, not dangerously enjoyable.

"…year dormitories are this way," Draco was saying, giving Crabbe and Goyle dismissive shakes of the head when they started to follow the pair. Toby nodded diffidently, following the blond as he weaved his easy way through the crowd, which instinctively parted for him as well. He tried not to smile again – if he played his cards right, as Severus had said, they would carry on keeping out of his way in this manner. For now, however, the influence of Draco's pleasant reception was enough. "The girls' dorms are over here – and very, very hard to get into, after certain hours," he winked at Tobias, "and mostly not worth the trouble, since the girls can enter ours, which is here." He gestured at a sturdy oak door with an engraved silver "6th years" plaque on it, and, in a move that struck Toby as rather unusual, held the door open.

Toby felt his engaging smile falter as, after shoving his old trunk unwillingly through, he was forced to brush past an oblivious Draco, who seemed to be peering about the corridor in search of something. He clamped down on the overwhelming urge to hit the boy, curse him and scrub himself raw, in that order.

Somehow, in the following nosy conversation, Toby managed to hold on to his distant half-smile and composure, mostly by reminding himself exactly how long it would take for Lucius Malfoy to die of a Vein-Opener. Thankfully, his son either got the hint, or grew tired of his vague answers and steady, unspoken refusal to open his old trunk, and started on the subject of the common routines in the dormitory.

It was hard enough being back here, really, Toby thought to himself, as Draco droned on cheerfully, not seeming to care if he was listening or not. Hard enough without being two feet from the son of the man who'd tortured you with a smile on his face just two months ago. Toby sighed a little to himself, making sure to breathe deeply, to batten down the rage and disgust that was threatening to break through.

He'll shut up soon enough, he reminded himself, nodding politely as Draco asked if he'd be all right, evidently preparing to leave the dorm. And so he did, shutting the door, his careless, easy stride irritating Tobias all the more. Grunting in angry disgust, the lanky boy rapidly flicked out his wand, performing the familiar wand movements of the Deprimo clamor silencing ward.

He didn't even trust the walls around him, at the moment.

Adding a limited Orsus Admoneo warning ward that extended just a bit farther than the silencing ward, he finally relaxed, and began to study the room. Not really noticing the muted, green-and-silver décor, unfamiliar, deep green bed curtains and the various Quidditch posters here and there, but noting the strange, sharp corners, and the door that led, presumably, to the showers, and how well it would defend.

Suddenly realising he was examining the wooden panels on the walls suspiciously, Tobias gave himself a little shake. No use getting too paranoid so early in the scheme of things, no matter how nervous he was. Dropping his wand on the bed – easily within reach, of course – he reached up his left sleeve to tug on the tightly fastened snake therein. Carefully, because she'd become apt to bite if startled too much.

Master, the black adder greeted him perfunctorily, as always, shifting dry scales against his shirt. Something worries you…?

You know me too well, Iona, Tobias sighed easily, stroking her dark head as she shifted slightly lower on his left arm. She'd been asleep for most of the train journey, waking up only to demand food or water and to poke her head out of the neck of his robes and declare that the motion of the compartment made her feel ill. It's nothing – or will be. Do not trouble yourself about it.

May I sleep in your bed, Master? The snake inquired, settling her still small head in the armpit of his soft shirt. Tobias's smile widened into a rare grin - trust her to ask about sleeping quarters first thing – as he lifted his sleeve so he could give her a look over. Her scales gleamed dully with health, thankfully, so nothing about the castle or the train had had an adverse effect on her so far.

Yes, Iona, he replied, drawing his sleeve over his arm and edging over the bed. It was time for him to unpack – quickly – so that no one could return in time to see the strange items within his new trunk. But do not emerge in the morning until I call you – it is important that my dorm-mates learn of you before they see you. Iona gave her version of a nod, moving a coil even lower on his arm. Tobias called his wand to him, pronounced the requisite unlocking spell, and began to levitate the most pressing items he would need – namely, robes, books and whatnot. Flicking his wand and muttering under his breath, he settled his items in their proper places, positioning everything just how he had grown used to, in the dungeons of Snape Manor – his night robe within easy reach, schoolbooks haphazardly strewn beneath his bed, his spare wand holster joining his worn bag by his bedside table. His almost offensively gleaming new dragonhide boots settled with a thump beside his low, dark chest of drawers, followed by the soft lambswool night-boots Dumbledore had pressed on him at some point last week, weariness in his blue eyes.

And that weariness would stay for a while yet, Toby mused, magically shutting all the open drawers. The Order had a long way to go before being even near the victory the old wizard hoped for. Tobias, after one last cursory look inside, shut his trunk and locked it closely, warding it strongly with the Web of Warning and several other simple wards, finally adding the most delicate ward of all – the Tacitum Nota. Severus had taught it to him for hours, going over and over the small, complex flicks; the method for opening and closing; and, most important, the delicate distinction of thought as you cleared your mind of everything but the 'secret word' as you murmured the spell, forcing the spell out gently.

Becoming still with concentration, Toby created the ward, keeping his mind clear until he felt the sharp tingle of the magic of the spell in front of him. Pointing his wand at the trunk experimentally, he shut his eyes and imagined the shimmering black scales of Iona, glittering dully with his blood as she lay beside him, waiting for the final strike on that eventful evening of his death as the world knew it.

The lock clicked gently open, and he smiled in grim satisfaction, clicking it shut with a flick of his wand, filling his mind with those shimmering black scales again.

And not a moment too soon – looking at the clock, he saw that it was time that he left for supper. Toby stood easily and quickly, nudging the lazy snake a little higher up his arm so she would not be noticed if his robe sleeve fell down, or something. The Silencing and Warning Wards came down easily, and he was soon in the half-empty Slytherin common room, following a group of chatty fourth years up to the Great Hall, where he paused, taking a deep breath.

Go through the midst of the Slytherin and Ravenclaw tables, he could almost hear Severus saying. Make sure to attract attention as you approach the High Table, but do not appear self-conscious. To you, it should appear to be the quickest route to my side…

Tobias Snape pushed open one of the doors to the Great Hall and stepped immediately through, forcing his features into a look of bored disinterest as several sets of eyes snapped to him. He further ignored the gasps of recognition as he turned and began to weave his way through standing students between the Slytherin and Ravenclaw tables and made for the High Table. As the comments around him became louder and less discreet, he found himself hard pressed to keep a straight face.

"So that's what Snape would look like if he washed his hair," he distinctly heard from a tall Ravenclaw seventh year he'd just past.

"Wonder what the hell he's doing here – "

"Do you think he's here to teach Potions?"

"Maybe he's Snape's son?"

"Never – can you honestly imagine anyone touching Snape of their own free will?"

"Uncle," Tobias inclined his head in Severus' direction, sliding gratefully into the seat beside him.

"What on earth did you think you were doing, coming up the centre of the hall like that?" was the displeased reply, said loud enough that several of the rather jumpy-looking Slytherin first years started.

"Sitting by you at the High table, just like you said," Toby replied coolly, playing with one of the golden forks before him on his empty plate. Severus gave him a hard look, then focussed his attention on the plate that had filled before him. Tobias picked up his cutlery with a negligent, easy air – drummed into him during the hours when he'd been too tired to stand, in the dungeons – and began on the food that had magically appeared before him. He ate silently, fighting the flush of embarrassment that rose as people kept pointing and whispering. At least the High table didn't have too many teachers on it. Toby wouldn't have had the faintest idea how to manage around the other professors, most of whom were seated a healthy distance away from him and the decidedly sour-looking Potions Master.

Toby hazarded a look down the table, just to see who was present this evening. Dumbledore absent, of course – he imagined he'd see even less of him now that he was safe and sound at Hogwarts. A weary Professor McGonagall discussing something with Professor Flitwick. Professors Sprout, Sinistra, and Hooch almost at the end of the table, all sneaking looks at him – right, looking away...let's see…No Hagrid, and no Professor Vector – just one or two other teachers he knew only by sight, the depressed-looking Muggle Studies teacher, and the stout, beady-eyed Professor Trellin – Trellheim? – of Ancient Runes, who was also giving him a speculative once-over.

Cursing inwardly at the sheer amount of people that seemed to be watching him play with his Shepherd's Pie, Tobias somehow got down a series of mouthfuls, one after another, trying to focus on inane details like the fine scars around his wrists, and the one shaped like a star on one of his right hand knuckles.

A small commotion caught his eye, and made him regret he'd looked up at all. Laughing uproariously at some thing or the other, way over at the Gryffindor table, were his friends. For a moment, Toby thought he would stand up and walk over – sit down – poke fun at Ron's odd haircut – but no, no.

He loosened his grip on his fork and forced down another mouthful, which tasted like so much dirt in his mouth.

What possessed me to agree to this, anyway? Why did I think I could do this?

"Meet me in the dungeons tomorrow evening, understand? So I can hear what you think of this place," came Severus' coldly formal tone, as if from very far away. Tobias nodded, trying not to look at Hermione's fond, Ron-oriented smile. They looked over in his direction – he affected a glance at his watch – they were laughing, again. Anger and despair rose in his gut, choking him –

He very deliberately set down his fork, seeking out the sixth years at the Slytherin table with his eyes, almost crying with relief when he saw Draco and his henchmen had just risen from the table.

"Tobias?" Severus' tone was cold, but his eyes – "Is there something – "

"Just some leftovers from International Apparation," Toby managed to say, his tone steady as he took a long drink of water from the goblet by his place. "And that god-awful Energizing muck you gave me, too. Should finally wear off by tomorrow, never fear." Severus nodded dismissively as he stood, only the sharp concern in his eyes betraying his interest in Toby's words. "Good evening, uncle…" Tobias found himself easily giving way to the polite half-nod, half-bow that Severus had demanded he use at appropriate moments, and soon found himself hastening from the Hall, Draco's blond head in sight.

He found himself hard-pressed to keep a straight face as he left – a fact compounded by the further laughter he could hear at the Gryffindor table. For a very horrible moment, he thought they were laughing at him – that they knew –

Get a hold of yourself, for fucking hell's sake –

Closing his eyes momentarily, he called up his Occlumency shield, submerging his tumultuous feelings in a gentle, yet firm swirling of familiar ocean water. Reaching unobtrusively up his sleeve to touch Iona's warm scales helped him relax a little, and the relatively silent journey to the Slytherin common room, made in Draco's wake, was made without him breaking down in any way.

He avoided the curious stares of the few people present in the common room, heading straight for the sixth year boys' dormitory, sighing as he sighted his familiar, thankfully undisturbed belongings. He shucked his shoes, climbing into bed and closing his curtains with a muttered spell so he could undress in peace. He managed the act of changing into his worn pyjama bottoms without incident or further loss of composure, and was soon stroking a now wide-awake Iona, and telling her in bits and pieces about his eventful day.

When she slid away under his pillow to sleep once more, Toby finally put up a Silencing Ward and allowed himself to vent his frustration and despair. He felt absurdly homesick for the familiar, stuffy dungeon, the acerbic banter with his – his uncle, the freedom to do and go where he wanted, and he let the few, hot tears flow without reservation. Because it was his first, frightening night here, and he didn't feel as safe as he'd thought he would, at Hogwarts.

Then he heard the muffled sounds of the other boys entering the room, and hastily dropped the Silencing Ward, as that was really far too suspicious to maintain for no apparent reason. They settled in around him with as much noise as four teenage boys can generate of a Sunday night, and Toby listened tiredly to their chattering and sniping comments without joining in. The lights went out soon after, and it calmed him somewhat – the dungeons at Snape Manor had always been dim, and he'd grown used to it without noticing.

He turned over, closing his eyes in resignation. There was no use in wanting to be elsewhere – this was where he'd have ended up anyway. And, staring at the dark, comforting curtains draped around him, it seemed far less foreboding than before. His long list of tasks seemed, for a moment, like something he could and would complete, or substantially perform.

I'm at Hogwarts.

Tobias closed his eyes once more, breathing in the familiar, yet slightly different smell of dormitories and other human beings. And, hearing the shift-shift of Draco Malfoy's tossing in the bed nearby, he felt a grim smile tug at his lips.

And I am ready.

Because, if he closed his eyes and relaxed, letting go of the vociferous doubts teeming in his system, he was.

A/N: Welcome, welcome. How's that for a first chapter, eh? I won't be able to update for at least three or four days, because of numerous projects and tests I need to get through. Be assured, however, that I've got quite a bit of material to play with for the next chapter, which will simply be named Chapter 2: The First Day. Reviews are craved, as always.