"You not teaching is ridiculous."

Evanna had not allowed her mentor a word before she stormed through his office door and plopped herself onto one of the leather chairs in his office. Severus Snape pursed his lips.

"I am certainly not gifted with chil-"

"Sirius Black runs Defense Against the Dark Arts as though we are in the Auror training program, which, while fine by me, is severely lacking in any of the theory that we will need on our OWLs while Professor Slughorn is too busy pandering to his favorites to bother doing any teaching beyond telling us where to turn in our textbooks."

"And are you one of these favorites?"

Evanna pursed her lips and shifted uncomfortably. "You know I am. He seems wary of the Slytherins though. And that is not my point-"

Her Head of House pushed further. "I had thought you were instructed to not worry about such mundane matters as OWLs-"

"Well, sort of, but-"

"-as your mission-whatever it is-is far more important than a ministry mandated test," her professor finished. Evanna scowled.

"My question remains; why aren't you teaching?" she demanded, arms folded. "I could find out without your permission, but I know you would prefer I keep out of your head."

Evanna could see the exact moment when her mentor decided that his privacy in this matter was not worth risking whatever else was swimming behind those black eyes. Evanna did her best to keep her face neutral, knowing that the professor would not appreciate any smirking.

"I am no longer in favor with either side of this war," he finally said. "Dumbledore does not trust me around Potter."

Evanna frowned, not daring to ask why he was out of favor with her father. But, if he was a danger to Harry…. She had to know. "Why does he not trust you around Harry?"

She did her best to keep her voice neutral, not to let on exactly how much she cared for the green-eyed boy, not let him know that they had never stopped their friendship, their more-than-friendship, despite his many warnings. His sharp glare told her that her attempt had failed.

"I defied his orders regarding the boy wonder."

"But what does that mean?" Evanna demanded.

Professor Snape pursed his lips. "The Headmaster was not pleased that I went beyond training the boy in Occlumency but also trained him in dueling."

"That's ridiculous-when you told me this summer I assumed Dumbledore thought you were teaching him Dark Magic or trying to influence him to become a Death Eater!" she exclaimed. "But-Merlin-I've been trained in dueling since I could hold a wand! Harry needs-"

"I know all this already, Evanna," the professor all but growled. "Neither of you have had what any sane person would call an appropriate upbringing."

There was nothing to say to that, so Evanna did not. "How is Mother?" she asked finally.

"You mean your aunt?"

"There is no one else here, I will call her what she is to me," Evanna replied harshly.

"Narcissa is well. I believe she is having tea with her sister this afternoon."

It was such an oddly normal thing for Evanna's birth mother to be doing that she found she could not even picture it.

"Do they-does that happen often?" she asked and Professor Snape snorted.

"Only at your mother's insistence."

Evanna wasn't sure which mother he meant. It didn't matter any way. She still had questions circling her mind.

"Professor?" she said carefully. "How could you get back into Dumbledore's good graces?"

Professor Snape's eyes snapped to her own, something dangerous in them. And she knew, she knew that he had contemplated that question and that he had determined that the risks outweighed the cost, because Evanna was the price for Dumbledore's good graces.

She nodded, an odd sort of knot in her throat. "And to regain favor with my father?"

Again he did not answer. She chose not to see the answer in his eyes.

"I know I don't provide the same amount of protection as either of them. I know that I am barely more than a pawn," she said lowly. "But I will always count you as one of my own."

"It is not your job to protect me, Ev-"

"Don't finish that," she said. "Because I won't listen."

That caused her professor to slip through several emotions-anger, fear, irritation, and finally an odd sort of tired amusement. "I already knew that."

"Well, so long as you know," she said, checking his clock on the desk. "I have Prefect duty."

"I hope you are using that time wisely," Professor Snape said, not finishing the thought. Making progress on your father's assignment for you.

This time, it was Evanna's turn not to respond.

Harry POV

Harry had not quite known what to expect when Dumbledore decided to personally oversee his training, but watching a young Voldemort have all his possessions burnt by the Headmaster was not what he was expecting. He had been reminded uncomfortably of all the toys he would hide away from Dudley and Dudley's gang, also in a shoebox in a hidden corner of his cupboard. He was suddenly grateful that Hagrid had been the one to present Harry with his Hogwarts letter.

"I had a feeling, even then, though I had no idea how far things would go," Dumbledore was musing. "There was something off about Tom, a lack of empathy for those who had caused him harm-"

"I had a box like that," Harry murmured, almost to himself.

"I'm sorry, m'boy?" Dumbledore said, having not heard what Harry said.

"I had a box like that," he said. "When I was a kid. Full of Dudley's toys and things I had nicked from his gang at school-and I hid it in my cupboard, under my mattress."

Dumbledore frowned, looking thoughtful. "I don't quite understand-"

"And you say Riddle left children in a cave? Killed their pet when they excluded him?" Harry demanded. He had not initially understood why he had been so upset in that memory, but things were becoming clearer to him now. "I didn't know it was me at the time, but I cause the monkey bars to break while Piers Polkiss was sitting on them-he broke his arm! I loosed a python on my cousin and locked him in a snake tank! Hell-I blew up my aunt and sent her floating across London three years ago!"

"My boy, if this is your worry about being like Voldemort again-"

"I am like him," Harry said. For once, the thought did not worry him or send him into a spiral of self-loathing. "I am an orphan-just like him."

Dumbledore seemed to not have anything to say to that, so Harry continued.

"I was an orphan, living with people who did not care if I lived or died, just like Tom Riddle. I begged you to not make me go back to the Dursleys-Tom Riddle did the same when he opened the Chamber! I got jealous of everything they gave to Dudley and those toys I stole-he didn't give a damn about them! But I did! It was all I had."

"Harry, I believe you have missed the point," Dumbledore said slowly. "I know you had a hard upbringing-I had hoped that this summer with Sirius would have helped to soothe some of those wounds-but you are not Tom Riddle. There was something dark in Lord Voldemort from the beginning-likely why the boy was Sorted into Slytherin and you into Gryffindor-"

"I asked," Harry said lowly. For once, he did not feel ashamed of that fact. "I asked to be Sorted into Gryffindor. The Hat wanted me in Slytherin."

Violet eyes flashed in Harry's mind. "And not all Slytherins become monsters anyway," Harry continued, his anger growing enough to set the small spindly instruments in Dumbledore's office. "The biggest difference that I can see between eleven year old Voldemort and myself is that Hagrid brought me a birthday cake, while you burnt his belongings."

For the first time, Harry saw genuine anger and frustration flash in Dumbledore's eyes that was directed at him. But, unlike when Harry had first arrived to Hogwarts and been so impressed by Dumbledore, he found he really did not care.

"So what will you do with this information, Harry?" Dumbledore asked. "Let your parents' murderer continue his campaign of terror?"

It was then that several of the spindly instruments on Dumbledore's shelves again shattered. Dumbledore rose an eyebrow.

"Are we to make a tradition of you destroying my belongings when you come to my office, Harry?"

"I know the prophecy," Harry asserted. "I know either he kills me or I kill him. I know Voldemort has to be stopped."

"Then why torture yourself with thin similarities, my boy?" Dumbledore asked, more gently than he had in awhile.

Harry dug his nails into his palms. There were many things he wanted to say. Why show him this in the first place? Why not show him how to fight? Why not tell him the prophecy until the summer? Why had Dumbledore not confronted Tom Riddle long before the prophecy was even made?

"I think… I think I need to be done for tonight," he said. "I'm supposed to meet with Sirius any way."

Something dark flickered over Dumbledore's face at the mention of Harry's godfather, but it was gone so quickly that Harry wasn't altogether sure that he had seen it.

"Give him my regards," was all Dumbledore said before allowing Harry out of his office. Harry waited until he rounded the corner before he called for Dobby.

"What is Master Harry needing from Dobby?" the elf asked, looking far too excited.

"It's just Harry-and-can you get a message to a student without anyone else seeing?"

"Of course Dobby can, who is Harry Potter-"

Harry grabbed a piece of parchment and a nearly dull quill from his bag before scrawling a quick note-Thursday, 9 pm, the place only we can go-and passed it along to Dobby. "Can you take that to Evanna Malfoy?"

Dobby wrung his ears. "Young Mistress Evanna is most dangerous, Harry Potter, she is-"

Harry did his best not to become annoyed with the elf. "You have been around her in years, Dobby. She is not like the other Malfoys-"

"Dobby knows this Mas-Harry, but she is not-"

"Can you take it to her without being seen or not?"

"Dobby should not be doing so, but Dobby is able, yes."

"Will you?" Harry said, his voice coming out as almost pathetically desperate. "Please, Dobby. For me."

"Dobby will do anything for Harry Potter, great friend of elves, but Dobby is just trying warn Harry Potter about his old young mistress, yes-"

"You and everyone else," Harry all but growled. "Thank you Dobby."

The elf nodded sharply and disapparated. That done, Harry hurried on to Sirius' office, not bothering to knock on his godfather's door. Sirius had made sure that all of the wards around his office and quarters admitted Harry at any time, declaring that wherever his home was, so was Harry's.

Sirius was on his couch, reading a letter, when Harry burst in.

"Prongslet! Was I expecting you tonight?" he said.

"No," Harry said, somewhat glumly. "Who's that from?"

"Moony-says he's as safe as he can be in Greyback's camp," Sirius frowned. Harry did, too. This summer Dumbledore had sent Remus back to the camp of the werewolf who had bitten him in the first place. Harry could not help but feel that incredibly unfair, for all Remus had assured him that Dumbledore thought it for the 'greater good'. "I thought you were training with the Headmaster this evening?"

"I was," Harry grunted as he flopped onto the couch beside his godfather. "I left early."

"Should I even ask why?" Sirius asked, pulling out his wand and pointing it toward his Cooling Cabinet. Two butterbeers floated their way toward the pair. Harry muttered a 'thanks' and popped the lid off, not looking at Sirius or bothering to answer his question. The two passed several minutes in silence.

"Why didn't Dumbledore ever face Voldemort himself?" Harry asked. "Before the prophecy was made, I mean. Why didn't he ever just-"

"Wipe the noseless bastard off the face of the earth?" Sirius finished. "Honestly, I thought he always felt guilty for not doing anything to help when Voldemort was at Hogwarts."

"Well, he sure did not learn from his mistakes," Harry grumbled.

"What is that comment supposed to mean?" Sirius demanded, turning to more carefully study his godson. "Harry?"

Harry found himself spilling the whole tale, despite Dumbledore's admonishment to not share his lessons just yet. For the first time, he found himself also willingly explaining to Sirius his own childhood with the Dursleys and how he had felt pity toward Voldemort after seeing even a glimpse of his childhood in the orphanage. There was a certain amount of amazement in Sirius' face when Harry finished his convoluted tale.

"What?" Harry demanded. "Is there something on my face?"

"No," Sirius shook himself. "Your capacity for forgiveness and empathy will never not amaze me, Harry. And I am so sorry that this world forced you to grow up so fast and that we did not end this war before it became your burden."

"It's o-"

"No, Harry. It's not," Sirius told him seriously. "Should you wish it, I am still wholly prepared to take you to some corner of the world that Voldemort cannot touch-give you at least a little of the childhood your parents dreamed for you."

Harry frowned. "My friends-I can't. I could never do that, Padfoot."

Sirius just smiled sadly. "I know. But an old dog can wish."