Thank you for the reviews on the last chapter!

This chapter doesn't quite go all the way down the road, but it is a beginning- of several different things.

Chapter Twenty-One: Forgiveness and Mercy

Harry suspected that Snape wouldn't want him to wait for the morning, although Draco, walking behind him, uttered a little groan of disappointment when they passed the door to the Slytherin common room.

Harry glanced at him over his shoulder. "Are you sure that you don't want to stay behind?"

"Not if you're going where I think you're going." Draco squared his shoulders, as if he thought that would somehow diminish his weariness. "You'll probably come out of this fight just as tired as I am, and I'll need to carry you back to Slytherin." For a moment, his face brightened. "I'd enjoy that."

"I don't know," said Harry thoughtfully. "I've seen sense. Perhaps Snape will manage to see some."

"Sometimes, you're no fun," said Draco.

Harry frowned at him, but Draco refused to explain what he meant. Harry shrugged. "Just don't interfere in the fight, please, Draco," he said. "Snape and I need to—" He paused, then waved a hand vaguely before him, hoping that it would stand in for the words he didn't know how to pronounce. "Really fight," he said. "Really talk. Smash the barriers. If we don't, then I can't expect him to understand what I felt out in the Forest tonight."

"I still don't understand how whatever you felt in the Forest encouraged you to forgive Professor Snape," Draco muttered as they turned the final corner and came to a halt before the door of Snape's office. Harry hadn't been here in months, and, for a moment, the knowledge dizzied him. He'd spent the summer away from Snape and Hogwarts before, but then he'd been back inside this office a day after returning to school. He shook his head and knocked.

"If I can understand what drove a sacrifice like Coran's, then I can understand what drove a sacrifice like Snape's," said Harry. "That doesn't mean I'm suddenly going to fall into his arms sobbing, but—"

"Mr. Potter. Mr. Malfoy."

And there was Snape, and suddenly this was harder than Harry had known it would be. He took a deep breath and faced his guardian. "Hello, sir," he said quietly. He didn't know which emotion would come out in his voice, but it turned out to be a mild one—regret, or possibly melancholy. "I have something to say to you, and Draco wants to witness it. Can we come in?"

Snape stared at him. Harry knew the emotion in his eyes: hope. And why not? This was the first time that Harry had treated him with less than severe coldness since his parents' arrest.

"Come in," said Snape, almost as if he were repeating Harry's words rather than issuing an invitation. He moved aside and gestured for Harry to take a seat on one of the chairs. Harry walked into the office, but remained standing. He didn't want Snape to think they weren't on equal footing, and Snape already had a height advantage.

"Sir," he murmured, "I want to tell you that I understand, a bit better now, what you were giving up in sending the information about my parents and Dumbledore to the Ministry. You thought I would hate you, didn't you? You expected that you'd forfeited the right to be my guardian, any trace of a bond beyond teacher and student."

Snape's eyes were large and dark in his pale face. Harry wondered how much sleep he'd been getting. It was a question he would have been unable to picture himself giving a damn about this morning, unless he were considering Snape and other sleep-deprived victims together.

"I did think that, Harry," said Snape. "But I kept hoping that you would forgive me, and I would not have sacrificed so much after all." He clenched his teeth down as if he would prevent himself from saying the next words, but they crept out anyway. "Are you forgiving me? Is this what that is?"

Harry flinched a bit. The commitment that had carried him out of the Forest, the remembrance of Snape's sacrifices, was currently battling with the remembrance of the churning hostility that Snape's announcement of the crimes had released. Many people seemed to believe that Dumbledore could not be guilty, or else that it should have been handled privately. Perhaps they were right? Harry knew that he would have preferred it that way, at least.

"I'm not as angry as I was," he said, choosing the most sincere response. "That doesn't mean I'm not still angry."

Snape nodded, as if unsurprised. His eyes were drawing in the sight of Harry's face, soaking it in. Harry felt another tremor overtake him. He had not realized how much Snape had missed him.

That's what he was trying to say in McGonagall's office. He really did miss you. It wasn't a plot to pull an emotional reaction from you after all.

Harry rubbed his eyes. The wonder and awe he had felt—he had to keep his mind focused on that. He'd come here intending to tell Snape the whole truth, about how things had to fall out between them now. He couldn't just suffer shock after shock and stare open-mouthed. Perhaps this would be a bit harder than he'd assumed, with more obscure emotions swirling around in his mind like dragonweed in clean water and destroying his distance from the situation, but he had to keep pushing forward.

"I—" said Harry, and then shook his head. "I was tempted to forgive you even before this." He felt Draco shift behind him, as if about to speak, but luckily he kept his mouth shut. "But I didn't know how to tell you what I thought our new standing should be. I don't need a guardian any more."

Snape's eyes grew piercing. "Then that is an enduring disagreement," he said.

Harry sighed. "Why would you want to act as a guardian to me, sir?" he asked. "I haven't been a very good ward."

"All that I have done, I have done for love of you." Harry blinked. That Snape had managed to say the word with both him and Draco there was astounding. "And I have been a guardian," Snape continued steadily. "My role where you are concerned is defending and protecting you, Harry. And I have put you into some danger that I did not intend with my actions, given how many people seem willing to defend their precious Light Lord." Snape gave that familiar sneer. "I am surprised that there are so many fools in the wizarding world. I do not know why. My life should have taught me not to be an optimist."

He took one of the chairs, which left his eyes more on a level with Harry's. "I can at least protect you from the dangers of my own making, and I wish to protect you from others as well."

"I don't have a good track record with parents," said Harry, deciding he might as well lay this out in the open. "I don't believe that you would ever abuse me the way Lily has, Professor, or look aside from abuse the way James did; you've already proven that. But you've also proven that you wouldn't hesitate to hurt other people, even though I've asked you not to, in the name of keeping me safe." He glanced at Draco over his shoulder as he said that.

"I am sorry for the compulsion I placed on you," Snape said, addressing Draco. "And Harry, I am sorry for lying to you about it. I am not sorry, and will not be, for what I have done to your parents and Dumbledore."

I didn't expect him to be sorry for it. I didn't. Harry told himself that until he believed it. He held Snape's gaze. "But you understand why I don't want you to be my guardian again, sir," he said. "You must. Your definition of the best way to handle my protection and mine do not match up."

"Of course they don't," said Snape. "I imagine that most guardians do not think the same way as the children they protect."

Harry swallowed. He couldn't object that he wasn't a child, or Snape was likely to retort that saying that proved that he was acting childish, and required someone to defend him. "Sir, I'd want to be involved in any future decisions that you make about my protection," he said. "And I don't know if you would allow me that."

"It would depend." Snape seemed to have recovered his balance already, which irritated Harry. He'd come in so determined, so poised on the wings of his revelation in the Forest. Why couldn't he have retained that exalted distance? Instead, he was crawling in the midst of his emotions again. "If I thought that you could understand and react to the situation rationally, I would certainly consult you. I did not this time because I thought you would insist on leaving your parents and Dumbledore free. If a situation like that arises in the future, no, I would not delay saving you because you might not like it." Snape folded his hands. "I am sorry for the consequences of my decision that have had a negative impact on you, Harry. I am not sorry for making it in the first place. What else would you have suggested I do?"

The question was mild, not biting, and Harry seized the chance to talk about it. Perhaps he could convince Snape and bring him around to his side after all. "Handle it privately," he said firmly. "Even with a sudden confrontation. There are things I could have done to confine Dumbledore's magic for a short time, and of course my parents would have been no trouble to handle. Bind them and hold them in a room with us, and I think we could have forced them into acknowledging that what they have done is wrong."

Snape gave a single, sharp cluck of his tongue. "And yet, I heard from the Minister that an attempt to talk to your father resulted in him blaming you for the situation, Harry?"

"He was upset," said Harry evenly. "He didn't know what he was saying. And of course, once the abuse charges were filed, it was probably too late. If we could have done it beforehand—"

"Look me in the eye," said Snape, leaning forward. "You know it is very hard to lie to a Legilimens like that, Harry. Look me in the eye and tell me that you believe your parents and Dumbledore would have changed their minds if you could speak to them privately."

Harry shook his head. "It doesn't matter if I'm a bit uncertain," he said. "I still think it would have been a better method than this."

"Why, if all it did was warn them and not convince them anyway?" Snape was at his calmest. Harry could feel himself edging towards an explosion. He took the anger, crushed it into a small ball, and dropped into one of the Occlumency pools. Some of it leaked back, though, and so Harry counted to ten under his breath before he responded.

"I still think it would have been the best course," he said. "No need to get the Ministry involved, to have dozens of people upset at the loss of their leader. And we would still have Dumbledore on our side to fight against Voldemort."

"I believe he would have manipulated you rather than fight the Dark Lord," said Snape quietly. "He fears you more than him."

Harry blinked, once, then twice. That hadn't occurred to him. Of course, Snape is an idiot about things like this sometimes. He's probably exaggerating, and waiting to see if I notice. "Come off it."

Snape's eyebrows rose, and an expression that was neither smile nor scowl curved his mouth. "I am not lying, Mr. Potter, nor even stretching the truth. Albus Dumbledore does fear you. Nothing—not a confrontation, not reasoning, not a promise or an Unbreakable Vow—would have stopped his attempts to gain control of you. Nothing will but his death or the loss of his magic. Either of those is a probable outcome of the trial. I will be satisfied with either."

Harry went briefly cold inside. He had forgotten that while his revelation in the Forest might have taught him respect and wonder and awe for other souls, Snape hadn't thought the same thing.

"You made the charges child abuse for that reason, didn't you?" he asked, voice breaking.

"I made them because that is what they did," said Snape, his voice snapping like an ice floe. "But yes, I knew that execution was a probable consequence of those particular accusations."

Harry shook his head. "You're still a person," he said. "I'm trying to understand why you did what you did because denying you forgiveness when you acted out of your personal convictions is silly. And my parents and Dumbledore are still people. I'm not going to try to free them or stop the trial, but—it's just—execution is too extreme a punishment for anything."

He tilted his head back, eyes on Snape's face. "There are people who would have wanted you dead for being a Death Eater," he said quietly. "You didn't deserve it. How can you say that someone else deserves death?"

"Because I feel they do." Snape did not turn a hair. "And I am not the one who does the judging from this point forward, Harry. The Wizengamot will. You have not listened to what I said. I did not bring these charges against your parents and the Headmaster to murder them. If I only cared about their deaths, then I would have killed them myself. I merely knew this could happen, and didn't flinch from it. That is the difference. It is important to me that they be punished. What form the punishment takes is less important."

"It is important to me," said Harry. "I want to stop the Wizengamot from executing anyone. Life in Tullianum, loss of their magic—" He flinched at the thought of his father's face looking like his mother's in the moments after the justice ritual had taken her power, but pushed ahead. "Those would be things I could live with. But not their deaths."

Snape nodded. "I understand."

"But you aren't willing to do anything to change it," said Harry, turning his gaze away.

"Plead for them to live? Drop the charges? Not testify against them?" Snape's voice was becoming sharper and sharper. "No, I am not."

Harry closed his eyes and stood in silence, reminding himself to breathe, striving to recapture the sense of calm clarity he'd had in the Forest. He needed to respect Snape's decision, Snape's sacrifice. Snape had made this decision knowing what it would cost him, and that he and Harry would clash over it, possibly forever. The conviction that must have driven him forward in the face of that was immense.

He did it out of love. Surely you can appreciate that?

I could appreciate it better if not for its being me, Harry thought, and felt a brief flash of amusement. Here we go again. What he did would have been admirable if he were rescuing Draco or Neville or anyone else. But that love of me might cause someone else to die—it's very hard to accept.

"I am glad to be in the same room with the sensation that you don't hate me," Snape said, breaking into Harry's reverie. "Regardless of what you may have thought, Harry, I was not trying to provoke or hurt you with my comments during the first week of school. Merely unwilling to let you withdraw into a cold shell and pretend that I didn't exist."

Harry nodded. "I know that now."

Silence returned. Harry could see Draco looking back and forth between them, obviously trying to read their faces and uneasy about what would happen next. He probably has the right to be, Harry thought. I don't know myself. The fury he'd felt towards Snape was gone, slid and dissolved into a roiling mass of other emotions, but of those emotions—understanding, pity, love, anger, regret, the wish that things could be different—none was dominant enough to tell him how to react towards Snape.

"Perhaps you could tell me what you are willing to accept from me, Harry," Snape said. "I have said that I will not stop defending you. I will not. But I will attempt to consult with you before I make any move so drastic again. I held off on filing the charges for a long period of time, because I wished to do so only when I thought you were being abused and would not defend yourself. Hopefully, that situation will never arise."

Harry hesitated. Then he said, "I suppose I should—I could use your help with Occlumency and Legilimency. I tried to take on the Dark Lord in his mind the other night. He slipped past my defenses and came into my mind instead, and some of my emotional control was abraded by what looked like a snake in his thoughts."

Snape hissed. "That link between the two of you is dangerous," he said. "It should be shut. I believe that you possess the Occlumency to do so, Harry."

Harry stiffened his shoulders. Here was another thing they were going to disagree about, then. "I can't," he said. "The visions are useful in strategy for the war. Thanks to them, we know that he's planning an attack for the autumnal equinox. If I shut the link, then we won't have any idea of what he's doing."

Snape closed his eyes. "I cannot force you to do this," he murmured.

"So glad you realize that." Harry's anger slipped out again, but he swallowed it, and went on. "There are things I don't understand about my own mind anymore, since I had to strip down and rebuild it so thoroughly. I would appreciate your help with that end of things."

Snape nodded once. "I was not there to help you with that madness," he said. "At least I can make sure that you do not suffer from it."

Harry fought down the urge to say that he wouldn't have had to rebuild at all if not for Snape's insistence on exposing his past to the world. "I'd also like access to some of your potions ingredients when I need to brew more Wolfsbane," he said. "I don't have much money left in my personal vault now, and ordering the ingredients from the apothecary would probably get the price raised, thanks to my—notoriety. Would you be willing to permit me to do that?"

"Harry!" Draco exclaimed before Snape could respond. "Why didn't you tell me that you needed money? You're more than welcome to anything the Malfoys have, you know that."

Harry could feel his face heating up. "I'm not poor, Draco," he said. "I don't need charity. Potions ingredients would serve me better than money." He looked up into Snape's face. "And I'm willing to perform chores around the lab or help him with potions, whatever he needs, in order to make up for the ingredients."

"Harry." Snape's voice was soft. Harry wished it wasn't so soft. He had to close his eyes and turn his face away. "I consider you welcome to all the contents of my potions lab, as well."

"But the ingredients for Wolfsbane are hard to replace," Harry argued. "I'd feel better if you let me make up for them somehow."

Snape sighed. "And if I asked you to be honest with me, and speak with me about your reaction to the trial and the charges? That is what I would want from you, Harry. I will not ask that you forgive or understand everything I have done, not immediately. But since I have unleashed these consequences, the very least I want to do is help you through the suffering of them."

Harry swallowed. He could fool Madam Shiverwood, who didn't know him very well. He knew he couldn't fool Snape. If Snape asked him the right questions, he would uncover things like Harry's carefully hidden weariness with all the volatile emotions and blame around him. It would be making himself vulnerable, and speeding up the reconciliation process that Harry wanted to take slowly.

"You need not," said Snape. "You need not, Harry. I only asked to see if you were willing. You are still welcome in my lab and my office without that."

Harry felt the most ridiculous urge to cry. That passed, luckily, but then came the more familiar urge to curl up and hide. He didn't want Snape to make offers like that. It moved them into a land beyond debt and obligation and sacrifice, and all the epiphanies that Harry might have in Defense Against the Dark Arts in the course of a year would not be enough to handle it. He was used to loving other people like this, without expectation of return. To know that he was loved like that…

It made him feel vulnerable and prickly all over. He could deal with it as long as it wasn't actually pushed into his face, but now it had been.

Draco's arms slid around him, and that intensified the vulnerable feeling. Harry took a deep breath and managed to stand free of the embrace and meet Snape's eyes, troubled though he was that they might look right through him.

"Thank you," he said quietly.

Snape sighed. "Harry, have you spoken to anyone but Madam Shiverwood about this?" He didn't identify this, but Harry knew what it meant well enough.

"No," said Harry. "I don't want to," he added defiantly when Snape opened his mouth. "There's enough happening that I don't think I have to. Rebuilding my mind let me accept that, yes, it was abuse, and yes, what they did to me was wrong. And now I'm reconciling with you, and that will also be a help. But most of the time, talking about it just makes me tired. And as long as I've accepted that it was abuse and it was wrong, then what—"

"So much else, Harry." Snape leaned back in his chair and kept his gaze steady. "I already know about most of it, thanks to my training you in Legilimency and having Dumbledore's memories of your training. If you do decide to confide in me, I will at least not have to ask you many questions."

Harry nodded. "Madam Shiverwood knows all about it, too," he said. "She's seen the Pensieve, and read the scrolls."

"That's good." Snape looked resigned. He knows that he can't really push, Harry thought. He knows that we aren't reconciled all the way yet, and he doesn't have the right to say these things to me. "Please, Harry," he murmured. "When you are ready to speak, then let me know."

Harry caught a frightening glimpse, then, of how much further he might have to change himself—private things about himself. He'd accepted that he'd need to change his stance in relation to others, especially the more he thought about how he hadn't recognized or respected their sacrifices enough. And specific behaviors, like not running off and endangering other people, were candidates for change, too. But altering the way he thought about specific memories…

Snape still wants to change the way I think.

Harry caught the fear before it could run away from him. He always did. You know that. You know that he's wished you thought differently about the abuse since last year. There's no reason to get upset about it now.

"If I ever change my mind, then I'll let you know, sir," he said, raising his eyes to Snape's and emphasizing his words carefully. "In the meantime, it'll be enough to spend some time brewing Wolfsbane with you, I think. Unless there is something else you would like in return?" he added hopefully.

"No, Harry."

Snape was a Legilimens, good enough to read someone's thoughts with a look into their eyes—and Harry was returning his gaze directly now. He most likely knew exactly what Harry was feeling, and yet he refused to make him more comfortable. He wouldn't let Harry retreat into a bond based on debts and sacrifices.

Perhaps, someday, I can even be grateful for that.

"All right, sir," he said, and walked towards the door. He paused to give Snape a fleeting smile. "I know that we haven't talked everything out, but I think I've said everything I'm ready to say. I understand what you did. I'm not as angry as I was. I just can't quite accept it, yet."

Snape's glance was steady. "That is more than I ever hoped for, Harry," he said.

Harry lowered his head and slipped out of the office. Draco followed close on his heels, and spoke once they were most of the way back to the Slytherin common room.

"Harry," he murmured, and then reached out, putting a hand on Harry's shoulder and tugging him to a stop. Harry turned around, and found himself engulfed in an embrace.

"Some of us do love you without any need for something in return," Draco murmured into his ear. "I'll wait until you can acknowledge that. I'll be patient. But I thought you ought to know."

Harry struggled against the urge to pull away. Some of this was a sacrifice on Draco's part, too; he'd put up with so much while waiting for Harry to struggle through abuse and forced love for his brother and other obstacles in the way. "Thank you," he said, voice strangled.

Draco sighed, just a little puff of air against his neck, but it was enough to spark a fiery chain of thought in Harry's head.

Perhaps Snape is right. Perhaps there are things I need to change, still, within myself. Harry felt an enormous weariness at the thought, the same weariness he got after he spoke with Madam Shiverwood, but he had dragged himself through worse than this. It won't be as bad as the rebuilding. And I'd much rather do this by myself than in front of anyone else. If I can cure it on my own, then no one else will have a reason to worry about me.

It would mean considering memories he'd never wanted to reconsider, tearing open wounds he'd wanted to leave closed, forcing himself through grief and worry and pain. But the only alternative appeared to be sharing that grief and worry and pain. Harry hated the very thought. He'd do this, and perhaps, in the end, he really would be the better for it, healed of some of the effects of the abuse that were probably still influencing him in subtle ways.

Free, and able to respond to what Draco and Snape and other people do for me with a lighter heart.

"Flagello!"

Harry recognized the spell the moment it was spoken. It was one he'd used to train himself when he was a child. He rolled, depending on instincts drilled into him over years, and managed to get both Draco and himself out of range of the blue pain curse as it sped down the corridor and clashed in a spate of sparks against the wall.

Harry turned, already knowing the curse had come from behind them and further up the tunnel. A girl's shape moved into view, hissing in rage, and Harry recognized Margaret Parsons, from Ravenclaw. He narrowed his eyes before he could stop himself, and tried to soothe his own anger. She must dislike him very much to have come into Slytherin territory by herself.

"Parsons," he said. "What was that?"

"I'm sick and tired of everyone pretending that they're too scared of you to strike back," said Margaret. Her hand shook as she pointed her wand at him, but Harry knew it was anger and not fear that made it tremble. "You can be taken down. You're only human, just a wizard. So what if you have Lord-level power? The weak can strike back at the strong. You showed that when you took down Headmaster Dumbledore." And now the loathing in her voice was violently painted all across her face. Harry winced at the way it distorted her features.

"Don't you read the newspapers, Parsons?" Draco was scrambling back into the fight, of course, so mad he actually was spitting as he talked. "Don't you realize what your precious Headmaster did, and ordered done, to Harry?"

"They're lies, most of them," said Margaret. "They have to be. Headmaster Dumbledore would never do something like that." Her wand had steadied now. "Tell your boyfriend to move out of the way, Potter. This is between you and me."

Harry felt a surge of frustration. He was sure that Draco would go mad in trying to protect him, not taking into account that Margaret was simply an idiot. And his own emotions were so volatile that he didn't really want to duel. Besides, whatever he did to her would just make more people look at him slant-eyed and whisper when it came out, the way that his reflecting back the hex at her in second year had.

No, wait. Defensive magic might be the best choice. I'm sure that some people will take it as an indication that I'm a coward, but I'd much rather be accused of that than bullying.

"Defigo repulsu Harry Potter et Draco Malfoy," he said quietly, and let her hear him say it, and follow the gestures of his wand. Margaret looked astonished for half a moment, until the spell took effect, and she would feel the tingling in her body. She screamed, a wordless, incoherent sound of rage, and pointed her wand at him again.

"Flagello!"

Harry didn't bother dodging the curse this time. It simply sizzled and went out on the end of her wand. Margaret backed up a step, fear as violent as the anger had been shading her face.

"What in Merlin's name did you do to me, Potter?" she whispered.

"Used a reflecting spell so that you can't use any magic on me or Draco," said Harry calmly. "It just turns the spell back into the wand, as though it had met the countercurse on its way." He shrugged apologetically as her fear turned back into anger. "It's not used all that often, since it also prevents the person it's cast on from doing anything to aid or heal the people the magic is bound against, but I thought it best. And you can look it up, Parsons. It's not illegal or banned, or even Dark magic. You just can't reverse it, or get anyone else to reverse it for you."

"Why?" Margaret's scowl was inhuman. Harry had to wonder what was making her act this way. Perhaps her parents had just raised her to worship Dumbledore.

"Because I'm too powerful," said Harry. "And the Finite Incantatem cast on the wand would just get reflected, too. Sorry."

Margaret whispered, "Other people are going to hear about this, Potter," and stamped back up the hallway. Harry shook his head as he watched her go.

"Snape won't be in bed yet," said Draco darkly. "We can report this, and—"

"No."

"Harry."

It was Harry's turn to take Draco by the arm and force him to look into his eyes. "Draco," he said calmly. "What do you think would happen if people heard about this, from whatever whispers Margaret might make to people who already hate me? I know about the emotions twisting around the school right now. It'd start a conflagration, people for me and people against me. I'm not going to divide Hogwarts like that. I don't think Parsons wants to, either, or she would have attacked me in front of witnesses and forced me to respond in public. If she tells the story to the teachers now, she'll just look bad. Oh, she can prove it, sure, by showing off the curse on her wand, but she'd get in trouble. This was private revenge."

"She attacked you, Harry!"

"Us," Harry corrected, though he suspected the Whip Curse had indeed been aimed at him. "And I've handled it, Draco."

"I don't like this," Draco said, his face pale and unhappy.

"Tell me," said Harry, tilting his head, "what exactly would happen if we got Snape involved now."

"He'd make sure that Parsons couldn't hurt you again, and—" Draco stopped.

"However he had to," Harry finished grimly. "Yes, I don't entirely trust him to be rational about this. And it would still divide the school. We're in the middle of a war, and we can't afford that. At the very least, Slytherin can't afford to be seen as the instigator." He let out a soothing breath, though he wasn't sure who it was intended to soothe, and rubbed Draco's arm. "It's only about two months until my parents' trial."

"And Dumbledore's trial is set for March." Draco leaned forward and stared at him. "Can you survive until then, Harry?"

"I'll just have to, won't I?" Harry shrugged, and found his thoughts once again wandering towards a spell. Could a spell be making Margaret and the others act irrational about him?

But then, why would other people, like Draco and Snape, still have compassion for me? And the most irrational behavior does seem to be confined to children from Light pureblood families, and not even all of them, or Zacharias wouldn't have become my ally. No, this is just a consequence of the frenzy the papers have put everyone in. Hopefully, by the time my parents' trial is done, they'll calm down a bit. They can't have much new to report about this.

Harry shook his head, and returned to the present. "I promise I'll be careful, Draco," he said quietly. "I hardly want to die either." He had a sudden flash of inspiration. "And I'll tell Remus. I think he'd be the person best qualified to watch out for her. He's not a teacher, so it wouldn't disrupt a class for him to scold her, and he's not a Slytherin."

Draco nodded, obviously unsatisfied but taking what he could get. Harry rolled his eyes slightly as they took their path back to the Slytherin door, careful not to let Draco see. Voldemort is hunting me, and the wizarding world eats any tidbit about me as if it were a stoat sandwich. One frustrated Ravenclaw student casting a spell at me just doesn't matter that much in the scheme of things.