A/N: Thank you all so much for the support and encouragement that you've shown this story. I appreciate all of the follows and favorites, and especially love reading all of your wonderful reviews. Enjoy Chapter 11!

Wednesday evening found both Minerva McGonagall and Severus Snape sitting side by side in the headmaster's office, across from the wizened old man himself. The former wore a look of pure determination and resolve on her face. She had her mind firmly set on getting some answers.

But the latter's features were twisted into a sour expression that suggested he would much rather be just about anywhere else in the world right about then. He had no desire to be a part of this at all.

"I'm worried about Harry," McGonagall stated without preamble, before Albus even had the chance to offer either of his guests a lemon drop.

Dumbledore frowned as he touched the tips of his fingers together and nodded towards his deputy headmistress. "Go on, Minnie," he said almost gravely.

Severus had to refrain from rolling his eyes then as Minerva launched into her tale about the Golden Hero. She was going way too far with this, in his opinion. The spoiled, pampered, little brat was just throwing a fit. He would get over it soon enough.

But you took away the picture of his mother, a small voice whispered in the back of his mind. A voice that Severus instantly silenced as he attempted to focus back on what Minerva was saying.

"I've never seen the child so distraught, Albus," McGonagall said. "And then today in class. He was so withdrawn. Something is not right with him."

"If I may interject here," Snape spoke up as soon as there was a pause in McGonagall's speech, "I see no reason for my presence here tonight. This is, after all, a Gryffindor issue. And as I am the head of Slytherin—"

Minerva rounded on the potions master. "No reason? No reason? You assigned Harry a detention, Severus. Now, I don't know if Harry arrived in the dungeons already upset, or if you are responsible for the state in which he arrived at my office, but either way, you are involved in this now. And there is every reason for you to be here."

Albus turned his gaze on Severus, and Snape immediately strengthened his occlumency shields. The old man didn't need to know about the picture he had taken from the boy. No doubt the headmaster would attempt to persuade him to give it back.

"What was the detention for, Severus?" Albus asked, in his usual kind tone, as he peered at his potions master over his half-moon spectacles.

"The boy was not prepared for class," Snape replied, doing his best not to sneer too much. "So I had him scrub a few cauldrons and sent him on his way. He was fine. And no more upset than any other child who ever served a detention. "

"He didn't have his textbook," McGonagall intervened. "He said that his relatives were too busy to take him to get his school supplies. Now if I've told you once, I've told you a thousand times, Albus, that those Dursleys are the worst sort of muggles—"

"They were too busy?" Snape scoffed. "Now there is a famous Potter excuse if ever I've heard one. I think it far more likely that the boy simply neglected to mention it."

Albus spoke up before Minerva could speak again. "There are any number of reasons why the Dursleys may not have taken Harry to get his school supplies. Did Harry have any more to say on the subject, Minnie?"

McGonagall shook her head. "No."

Dumbledore tilted his head back in thought.

"Keep an eye on him." the headmaster finally spoke, making a point of including Severus in his penetrating gaze. "Both of you."

"You mean even more than usual? Headmaster, I really don't see how this concerns me," Snape protested, ignoring McGonagall's glare.

Dumbledore raised his eyebrows. "We are all responsible for every student that attends this school, Severus. Just keep an eye on him. In all likelihood, whatever is upsetting Harry is nothing too serious."

"And what of the Dursleys?" McGonagall demanded. "Will you be contacting them at all regarding Harry's school supplies?"

"Perhaps. But I am sure that this is all just a big misunderstanding."

"I hope you are right, Albus," Minerva sounded doubtful.

"Was there anything else, headmaster?" Snape asked, before Minerva could start in on another rant. "I have quite a few papers to grade this evening."

"Of course, Severus. Just one more thing on an unrelated topic. I thought I would just mention it to you."

"Yes?" McGonagall prompted.

"It would seem that the ministry feels it is high time that the wards at Hogwarts are updated and strengthened."

"Is it possible to do so with a castle full of students?" McGonagall inquired.

"Indeed, not."

Minerva rolled her eyes. "This castle was empty all summer. Why didn't the ministry make this proposal then?"

"Because that would make far too much sense," Severus drawled.

"Indeed," Dumbledore nodded, his eyes twinkling. "I am afraid that our minds seem to work a bit differently from those of our government officials and politicians, my dear Minerva. They are suggesting we strengthen the wards over the Christmas holiday."

"But some of our students stay for Christmas," McGonagall argued. "The ministry knows that!"

"Don't worry, Minerva. I will be meeting with Fudge on the matter very soon," Dumbledore said in answer. "It shouldn't be too difficult to convince him that our current wards will suffice for the duration of the school year."

"Let us hope so," Snape intoned, standing up as he prepared to take his leave. No doubt Minerva would want to stay for a while longer to continue discussing the Potter brat, but he had better things to do. "I am afraid I must return to my quarters, now, headmaster. Good evening."

And with a nod towards both Albus and Minerva, the potions master swept out of the room.

On Thursday morning, Harry didn't know whether to be distressed or relieved when his textbooks had still not arrived in the mail. He watched the last of the owls disperse and soar out of the Great Hall, their letters and packages having all been delivered, and thought about what this meant for him now.

On one hand, he wouldn't have to show up to Potions class that day.

But on the other, it meant another evening in the dungeons, alone with the bat, in detention.

He groaned and put his head down on the table.

"Don't worry, Harry. The books will be here soon," Hermione spoke up. "Surely by next week."

"Are you sick, mate?" Ron asked then, eyeing Harry's untouched plate of food in concern.

Harry didn't respond, but just closed his eyes and tried not to think too much about the day, and evening, ahead.

Ron and Hermione exchanged worried looks.

"Maybe he should go see Madam Pomfrey," Hermione whispered.

"Do you think we have enough time to walk him there before class?" Ron asked, in the same lowered tone.

"He can hear you," Harry murmured into the table. "And he doesn't need to see Madam Pomfrey."

"But Harry, if you're not feeling well—"

"I'm fine, Hermione," Harry sighed, lifting his head and standing up from the table. "I think I'll just go to the library for a few minutes."

"What's in the library?" Ron asked curiously. "I've never seen you this interested in books before."

Harry shrugged as he began walking away. "Some peace and quiet," he said over his shoulder, though quietly enough that he couldn't be sure that his friends had even heard him.

When he reached the entrance hall, Harry once again found himself reaching for the pocket of his robes where he had kept his photograph. He had been doing that a lot over the last couple days. But of course it was no longer there. Snape had seen to that.

A sudden burst of anger rose up in him then, and before Harry realized what he was doing, he was changing course and turning towards the passageway that led down into the dungeons. He moved without thinking, marching down the stairs and through the dungeon passageways until he was standing directly in front of Severus Snape's office door.

It was only then that he lost some of his steam.

What was he thinking? He couldn't just confront Snape!

But why not? Harry thought to himself. He stole my picture.

He raised his fist and knocked on the door then, before he had the chance to change his mind.

In the silence that followed, Harry couldn't help but to hope that there would be no response from inside the office. He tried to think about where the man was likely to be at this time of day. He hadn't seen the professor at breakfast. Perhaps he was still in his quarters.

But then a voice rang out, seeming to echo loudly in Harry's ears.

"Enter."

And Harry's stomach dropped.

He only thought about running back down the passageway for a split second. Snape would never even know that he had been there.

But then he thought about the emptiness in his pocket. It had really been all he could think about since Snape had confiscated his picture.

And it was enough to make him push open the door and step inside the dark office.

Almost immediately, Harry's eyes locked onto those of the potions master. And the man did not look pleased to see him.

"If you are here to beg for leniency regarding your detention, you are wasting your time, Mr. Potter," Snape spoke quickly, turning his gaze to a stack of papers on his desk. "If you are unable to attend my class today due to a lack of preparation, then I will once again expect you in the potions classroom this evening after dinner."

"That's not why I'm here," Harry replied, in as firm a voice as he could manage. And you know it, he added silently to himself.

"Ah, yes," the man said silkily, glancing up at Harry once more. "I would advise you to save your breath, Mr. Potter, and run along to class. I will not be returning your "item" to you."

Harry couldn't help but to glare at the man, even though he knew that it was probably not the smartest thing to do. And then, before he knew it, he was asking the question that he just couldn't get out of his head.

"Why are you ashamed of her?"

Snape looked taken aback for a moment, and it was several seconds before he recovered enough to respond.

"Excuse me?"

He made those two words sound so dangerous, but Harry refused to back down.

"Why are you ashamed of her?" Harry repeated. "You were her friend, weren't you? But you hate her now. Just like you hate my father."

"I said no such thing," Snape answered, standing up, almost looking offended at the accusation.

"You didn't have to," Harry replied.

Snape looked furious. "You know nothing, Potter. Get out of my sight."

Harry knew that the conversation was over. He had already pushed too far. And so without another word, he turned and fled the office, not bothering to close the door behind him.

Snape closed the door himself with a brisk flick of his wand, before lowering himself back into his seat.

"That arrogant little brat," he mumbled to himself, slashing through a first year essay with some fresh red ink. "How dare he...?"

He had been far too easy on the boy, he decided after a few minutes. He should have taken points, or given him a month's worth of detentions. Something. Because nobody spoke to Severus Snape like that and got away with it.

He grumbled some more as he continued to work his way through student essays. He hated to admit it, but what the child had said really bothered him.

And then a thought came to him.

It was an idea that Snape immediately tried to reject, but that his mind refused to let go of.

"No, I won't do it," he said to himself. "I'd practically be rewarding the insolent little brat. Absolutely not."

Severus glanced over towards the sink on the far side of his classroom that evening, where the Savior of the Wizarding World had just finished washing his tenth cauldron.

"That will do for tonight, Mr. Potter," he said at last.

The boy set the cauldron aside and quickly ran a towel across the counter and sink area.

Snape made sure to put a scowl on his face to disguise the internal struggle he was currently experiencing as the boy prepared to leave. Part of him wanted to send the child away with nothing more than a couple snide remarks, and perhaps another few points taken away from Gryffindor house.

But for some reason he couldn't explain, a larger part of him knew that he needed to do something else.

And so he stopped the boy before he could reach the classroom door.

"Just a moment, Potter."

Harry turned, his eyes refusing to look up at his professor, and Snape took the opportunity to shove the picture into the young boy's hand.

It wasn't the one that he had taken from the boy, of course. The last thing Severus needed was for the children of Death Eaters to somehow get their hands on that.

But it was a picture of a young Lily Evans. One of the many that Severus still had in his possession.

To say that Harry was stunned would be an understatement. He glanced from the picture up to his teacher with wide eyes and an open mouth.

Uncomfortable, Snape began to speak. "For reasons I cannot explain to you, Potter, I will not be returning your picture. However, I believe that this one will make a suitable replacement."

He paused for a moment then, before continuing. "I am not nor have I ever been ashamed of your mother. But again, I expect you to keep this information to yourself. Is that clear?"

All Harry could manage was a small nod.

"Then off to your dormitory, Mr. Potter. And we will say no more about it."

Harry nodded again and turned away to obey the professor.

Back in his dormitory with the curtains drawn around his four-poster bed, Harry's mind was whirling as he attempted to process what had just taken place.

Snape had just given him a picture of his mother.

Snape.

As the shock began to wear off, a million questions were racing through his head, and he wished that he had thought to ask them back in the potions classroom.

Where had Snape gotten the picture? Did he have more? How long had he been friends with his mother? And why didn't he want anyone else to know about it?

He was fairly certain that Snape would never answer that last one. He had already made it clear that he wasn't telling Harry.

Shaking these thoughts from his head, Harry decided to focus on his new picture then, instead.

His mother appeared to be about the same age in this photo as she had been in the other one with Snape. She was sitting in the grass in what appeared to be a park. There was a swing set in the background, anyway. Her eyes were bright, and she was laughing. And there was a little, white furry dog sleeping in her lap.

"I didn't know she had a dog," Harry whispered quietly to himself. He sighed, and turned the picture over.

His brow furrowed in confusion then at the three small words written on the back in small, careful handwriting.

"A Thousand Words"

Harry frowned as he flipped the picture back over a few seconds later.

A Thousand Words?

What was that all about?

Harry yawned and eventually settled back against his pillows.

But he knew that sleep would not come easily to him that night.

He had way too much to think about.

A/N: Thanks for reading everyone!

-Ailee17