AN: There may be some typos in this, I've done my best to proof read but I'm tired this week. Will check again later.


Harry silently followed Snape down to his office, keeping the invisibility cloak on. A few excuses ran through his mind as they'd walked, but he kept coming back to the fact that he knew in his gut that Malfoy was up to something.

"Sit," Snape finally said, leading Harry into his flat and pointing toward the kitchen table.

Harry plunked down in what was usually his seat when he visited, glancing around at the piles of paper on the other half of the table as Snape filled a water glass for himself.

"I think Malfoy is writing those articles for the paper," Harry said, not waiting for Snape's first question.

"No," Snape said.

"No, but Dad," Harry started, bundling up his cloak instead of folding it. "He knows that we…"

"Imagine my surprise," Snape interrupted, clunking his glass down on the counter. "To find you under your cloak, snooping around, after we have discussed and made very clear what your role in this plan is."

"But you haven't given me a role," Harry said. He fought the urge to cross his arms in defiance.

Snape held up his hand and ticked off his fingers as he went through the list.

"You were to tell your close friends in your defence group and maintain their loyalty. You were to remain out of Umbridge's attention, not react to the newspaper articles, and lastly, you were not to get involved with anything to do with Draco Malfoy."

Harry jumped up.

"But he knows what we did and his dad…"

"I am aware," Snape sternly said."Sit."

"So we just let him? Let them do whatever they've planned?" Harry argued, slouching back in the chair.

"And what is it that they've planned?" Snape asked, crossing his arms.

"Oh I dunno, write into the paper and tell everyone what happened?" Harry said, scowling.

"What would either Lucius or Draco have to benefit from that?" Snape fired back.

"To… to... ruin our reputation," Harry said, sputtering.

"Reputation is irrelevant," Snape said. "I am tenured and you are not yet employed."

"They could get us booted from Hogwarts," Harry suggested, his face turning a bit heated from the argument. He'd started strongly but Snape was tearing apart his logic with every reply.

"Tenured and you're impossible to expel so long as Dumbledore remains Headmaster," Snape immediately rebutted, frustrating Harry.

"But Umbridge is here too," Harry said.

"Yes," Snape said, leaning over to fill his glass again. "Yes indeed. Umbridge is here. And why has she been asking you about the prophecies?"

Harry opened his mouth and then snapped it shut. His brain, focused on arguing about Malfoy, had forgotten about the prophecies.

"Think, Harry," Snape told him. "If she learns of the content of the prophecies, what happens?"

Harry thought for a solid minute before offering his answer, a little calmer.

"She has proof that Voldemort might not have been dead. There wouldn't be another prophecy about killing him if he was truly dead."

Snape raised an eyebrow in a way that meant that Harry was on the right track.

"What is Umbridge planning?"

"Nothing good," Snape said. "Which is why the second task in your list is to stay away from her. Continue along with the plan as stated, and stay away from Malfoy. Both of them."

A light chime sounded from the living room and Snape turned his head toward it.

"One moment," Snape said, before striding into the living room to answer the floo call.

Harry shrugged and swept his eyes around the mess on the kitchen table, which was always there but took Harry a few months to realise was ever changing. Most were school related things or lesson plans that Snape had scribbled out in his spidery script, but there were a few articles from the newspaper cut out. One note caught Harry's eye though, as it was handwritten but not by Snape.

Severus - got them. Next time a little more notice would be appreciated. Snagged a third in case you want someone to listen to your catty commentary. Checked them out, they're pretty good. Kid's got good taste. Tolerable, I'm sure you'd say.

Busy here 'round the office. Unplanned events and visits making my days more difficult. Read into that what you will.

Kings.

Harry pulled the note out from under the pile of papers but there was no other context on it that he could use to figure out what Kingsley was talking about. Harry was pretty sure he was the 'kid' that Kingsley mentioned, but what did he get for Snape?

"I assure you that I am not in the mood for you to go through my things," Snape said, walking back into the kitchen.

"What did Kingsley get?" Harry asked. "It doesn't sound school-related and it's talking about me."

"Potter," Snape warned, looking in the cupboard for biscuits.

"Don't call me Potter," Harry said.

Snape gave him a stern look and pulled out the biscuits.

"Don't snoop around your Christmas gift, Harry," Snape dryly said. "And stay away from Malfoy or I will return these and you will spend Christmas in detention."

Harry scrunched his face as he processed that, watching Snape go back to the living room with the biscuits.

"Return what?" Harry blurted.

….

Sirius waited for Hagrid to give him the nod before transforming back to his human self. He mostly came to Hogwarts in the evenings to try to find the horcrux, as less students were around to see him, and Umbridge was also less likely to find him. As far as he was aware, and he was fairly certain that Lupin's information was correct, she didn't do post-curfew rounds.

He paced back and forth, thinking of the room he'd spent hours in already, full with nine centuries' worth of broken, forgotten, and forbidden items.

The door materialised and Sirius quickly slipped inside, knowing that whilst Umbridge was not out walking the halls, her Inquisitorial Squad was.

He walked past the first few rows of modern cabinetry and muggle magazines, clothes, and trick items from Hogsmeade. It was a time capsule that Sirius found fascinating and maddening, as he would have loved to explore it without the pressure of finding the last horcrux.

"Are you hiding?" Sirius asked, checking an old arm chair before gingerly sitting on it. To his surprise it held, and he waited for a moment before a movement to his right caught his attention.

She rose slowly over a pile of broken instruments, a scowl on her face as she regarded him.

"It is presumptuous of you to request the room to summon me," she finally said, hovering above him and crossing her arms as she stared down.

"I know," Sirius softly said.

"Yet once again, you persist," the Grey Lady said, her head up as if she thought he wasn't worth of her attention. "You are arrogant."

"I know," Sirius repeated. He'd tried to be chipper the first time they'd met, throw on his charm that had never failed him in school. She'd rebuffed him instantly, the insult on her face very evident.

"I want to tell you a story," he said, pulling a small photo out of his pocket. He held it in his hands, and could see out of the corner of his eye that he had her attention.

"The House of Black is one of the oldest and wealthiest pure-blooded wizarding families in Britain," Sirius started. "And in the 1960s they had two boys. Brothers. One followed the family traditions and beliefs. Becoming a Slytherin and carrying on the idea of blood purity as wizarding superiority. The other, the eldest, was sorted into Gryffindor and threw away all those purist ideas. This created a rift between the once-close brothers, arguments and hexes as both deemed themselves the correct one."

She floated down a little toward him, the scowl on her face softening.

"They never spoke again, not after the elder left Hogwarts. There was a war brewing, and the eldest joined the side of the light to fight against Voldemort, against the Death Eaters. Against his family's beliefs, and against his brother."

"You," she said, floating in front of Sirius, near to the floor. He nodded.

"I didn't know, you see, that my brother began to have thoughts of defecting."

He looked clearly at her, his eyes never leaving her pale and translucent face.

"I was young still, and arrogant. Thought I knew everything. Soon war had broken out, in 1979, and I was working with a group to keep muggleborns and half-bloods safe. I'd been disowned from my family years earlier, so I had no idea what my brother was thinking, or what he was doing. And I'll never know. I'll never know what turned him, but something did. And he somehow worked out what Voldemort was doing with these important artifacts he was collecting."

She scowled at the name, but her expression had softened as he spoke.

"It took me a long time to realise that the world isn't split into good people and Death Eaters. My godson right now is being raised by a … good Death Eater," Sirius said, struggling with the words. "Each of us have a light and dark side. I thought my brother took the coward's way out, ran from the Death Eaters when he got scared, and faced the consequences. But he didn't. He saw what was happening and his final act of good was to do what he could to defeat Voldemort, even in the smallest of ways. And now I have the opportunity to finish his task, in his memory."

He looked up toward her and saw the conflict on her face, the slight frown and furrow of her brows.

"Fifty years ago, Tom Riddle asked you for a certain item, something meaningful to you. Perhaps he promised to value it, to preserve it, to treat it with respect. Instead, he used it for the vilest magic known to wizard kind."

"He befouled the name of Ravenclaw, just as I had done," she softly said, more to herself than him

Sirius knew he was close.

"I'm asking you the same, but so that I can destroy it, and by doing so destroy the last horcrux and chance of him ever returning. To right a wrong, both for you, and for the assumptions I made against my brother."

She suddenly shot back up, hovering above him and twisting bunches of her dress in her hands.

"You do not understand," the Grey Lady finally said. "It is a cursed relic."

Sirius stood up as well, pocketing the photo of himself and Regulus.

"It is the lost diadem, isn't it," Sirius said, as a statement and not a question. "Lady Helena."

Her look was sharp as she stared down at him.

"You know who I am."

"Yes," Sirius said. "Most of the portraits here are of your mother, but there are some of you. Albus Dumbledore showed me where they were."

"I have been the Grey Lady for many generations of students," she said, wistfully as if it had been the one happy element in the tragedy surrounding her death.

"And you will continue to be," Sirius said. "I have no intention of revealing your secret, either of them."

She nodded, and sighed.

"It is the diadem. And it is in this room."

Sirius pulled a vial of dark looking liquid, basilisk venom, from his jacket pocket.

"Thank you."

"Wait until I leave before you destroy it," she told him. "I don't ever want to lay eyes on it again."

She rose from where she had been floating near him, a sorrowful look on her face as she glanced over the room. Sirius followed her gaze and saw that beyond her left side, past a few piles of broken crockery, cauldrons, and broomsticks, was a small statue with a tarnished tiara on its head. Not tiara, Sirius corrected to himself. A diadem.

He looked back upward to let her know that he'd seen it, that he'd soon destroy it, and that she could finally release some of her guilt. But he was alone once more; the Grey Lady had gone.

….

Harry zipped up his toiletries bag and left the bathroom, nodding to Fred as he passed him. There were a few people still awake, studying on the couch, and they ignored Harry as he walked up the stairs. He'd kept away from both Umbridge and Malfoy, as he'd been told, and become more preoccupied trying to figure out what Kingsley had gotten for Snape for Harry's Christmas gift. He didn't even know what Kingsley actually did, other than work for the Ministry, which made it more difficult to discern why Snape needed him to get something.

Harry plunked down on his bed and shoved his toiletries bag on his bedside cabinet shelf. A thought he'd had throughout the day came to the top of his mind again, though Harry told himself he was silly for even considering it. But Snape knew that Harry liked Oasis, had an Oasis poster on his wall in his bedroom at home. Had certainly told Harry to turn down his music often enough, and Harry knew that they were on tour.

It sort of fit with the note, if Harry was hopeful enough.

Ron snorted in his sleep next to Harry and Harry leaned back in bed. He could tell that Dean was also still awake, coming from the light between his bedcurtains, but everyone else had gone to sleep.

He wished that his cd player worked at Hogwarts because he really wanted to listen to Oasis, both the first cd and the one that had come out in October. Snape had told him how to owl-order it after Harry had talked non-stop about wanting it. They were going home for a few days around Christmas, and Harry planned to listen to it on repeat until Snape threatened to throw his cd player through the window. Until then, he had only been able to hear a few songs on a muggle-wizard radio station that the Room of Requirement had ported through a radio.

A near-silent pop to Harry's left shook him out of his thoughts and Harry looked at the house elf that he did not recognise. It was wearing a Hogwarts uniform, and looked entirely bored to be there.

"Master Snape requires that young Master Snape attend a meeting silently and with his cloak," the elf said, clearly but quietly enough to not alert anyone else in the room that it was there.

"What?" Harry asked. It was nearing eleven at night, and it was strange that he was being summoned to a meeting.

"Your cloak, Master. I am to take you now," the elf repeated, giving him a look as if he should know exactly what was happening already.

Harry slipped out of bed, putting his shoes on and picking up his invisibility cloak. The elf waited, staring at him, until Harry covered himself with it. The elf then reached out and grabbed his leg through the cloak, and to Harry's utter surprise, apparated them out of the room.

….

Harry landed silently in the Headmaster's office, behind where Snape was standing. Snape turned his head as the elf brought them in, glancing down at the elf and accepting the piece of paper brought in as a ruse.

Harry was surprised to see that Snape wasn't the only one in the office so late in the evening. Dumbledore was also there, along with Rita Skeeter and Umbridge, deep in conversation already. The fire was burning green, hinting to Harry that someone, likely Rita Skeeter, had arrived via floo. Dumbledore's desk was clear save for a small sweets dish and an empty cup of tea, but Harry noticed that Skeeter was holding a folder.

Harry knew he was to remain hidden, and stood as still as he could behind Snape so that the others couldn't hear him. From the way that Dumbledore glanced once toward where Harry was standing though, he figured his presence was not a secret only to Snape.

"Albus, I'm just trying to be kind," Skeeter said. "A courtesy that I wish to extend to you, and to Professor Snape."

"You're resigning from the Prophet?" Snape dryly asked.

"Goodness no," Skeeter said, with a mock outraged laugh. "There is an article going out tomorrow in The Daily Prophet that I would love to get a quote from you either of you to add."

"No," Snape replied, crossing his arms.

"No need to answer so quickly, Professor Snape. You may find that you want to give a comment for this," Skeeter briskly told him

She withdrew some papers from the folder, unfolding them to reveal a print proof of the next day's Prophet. Harry was far enough that he couldn't read all the words, but the photo printed front and centre made his blood run cold.

"You would be incorrect," Snape said, with a calm voice that impressed Harry. The photo was instantly recognisable; himself, Snape, Dumbledore, Fudge, and a few aurors all sitting around a conference table at Hogwarts. It was the meeting that had taken place the night that Voldemort had been defeated.

"What exactly is this?" Umbridge asked, reaching for it. Skeeter skilfully kept it out of reach, but held it up so they all could see. She stared at Dumbledore as she answered, instead of looking at Umbridge.

"It is evidence of a secret meeting between the Headmaster and the Minister, at Hogwarts."

"Well," Dumbledore said with a relaxed smile. "Not that secret, as you can see there were quite a few people in attendance and you have this photograph of it. Which I believe comes from a memory in a pensieve, if I am not mistaken."

"A secret meeting between Dumbledore and the Minister?" Umbridge repeated, sounding both surprised and aghast. "Preposterous."

"You are not," Skeeter said, giving him a calculating look and ignoring Umbridge. "Have you anything to say about it, about the context?"

"Not at this particular moment," Dumbledore said, with a small look of amusement. "There were not any minutes taken during the meeting, but I'm sure after a hot bath and a good night's rest that I will be able to give some insight."

Skeeter looked confused, between Snape and Umbridge before back at Dumbledore.

"The article is going out first thing in the morning, Headmaster," Skeeter said. "Friday morning."

"Which is excellent timing," Dumbledore said, standing up from his desk and causing everyone else to as well. "It is the perfect pre-read to the conference I will hold at Hogwarts on Monday. As such, I have no comments for you this evening."

Harry's mouth dropped open and he glanced to Snape, whose only reaction was a highly raised eyebrow.

"A conference?" Skeeter said, a smile forming on her face. "And will reporters like myself be able to attend this conference?"

"Most assuredly," Dumbledore said, gesturing toward the fireplace. "I will give a statement and Professor Snape and myself will be available to answer one or two questions."

"And Harry Potter?" Skeeter greedily asked, not yet moving from where she was standing.

"He will not be in attendance," Snape said, standing as well.

"He is in the photo, Professor Snape. The wizarding community will want to hear from him as well," Skeeter said.

"He is a minor," Snape replied. "And will not attend. I don't particularly care what the community thinks they are owed."

She narrowed her eyes at that and Dumbledore smiled.

"The Minister will also not be in attendance!" Umbridge asserted, as if she'd already seen Fudge's diary and had the authority to make such decisions. Harry smiled to himself a bit at the fact that Snape, Dumbledore, and Skeeter seemed to pay very little mind to what she was saying.

"Four pm on Monday, Ms Skeeter. Come to the front entrance," Dumbledore said, holding out the pot of floo powder.

"I certainly will," Skeeter said.

Once she'd left, Dumbledore gave Umbridge a nod.

"If that is all, Dolores, I have a matter to speak to Severus about before retiring for the evening."

"It is not all, Dumbledore," Umbridge sputtered. "It is inappropriate for you to host such a conference without direction and consultation of the Minister."

"Is it?" Dumbledore mildly asked. "I've always thought that my podium could do with more use, and this appears to be a wonderful opportunity to do so."

She huffed at him and stalked toward the door, her heels clacking against the stone with every step.

"I will be informing the Minister right away and I am certain he will demand that this conference be cancelled."

"I look forward to his correspondence," Dumbledore said. "My last went unanswered, alas."

Umbridge narrowed her eyes and stepped out, slamming the door behind her.

"This is the turning point," Dumbledore said, sitting back down at his desk. "Severus, I will prepare you with what information I will be giving at the conference, though it will be a heavily truncated version of the actual events."

Snape nodded, a notebook in hand as he wrote shorthand scribbles.

"And Harry," Dumbledore said, giving him a smile, "I'm afraid once again that you will be in the spotlight."

Harry let the cloak drop and stepped forward.

"Everyone is going to find out?" Harry asked. "That we killed him and hid it?"

"I see I have lost another shirt to prestidigitation," Snape said, staring at him. Harry looked down at his pyjamas, plaid pyjama trousers and a t shirt that had a very faded drum set screen printed on it.

"I found it in my laundry," Harry fibbed. "What am I supposed to say to everyone?"

Snape's expression made it very clear that he didn't believe a word of Harry's answer.

"They will be finding out in a general sense that he had not been dead, and that yes, we did eliminate him," Dumbledore told him. "Until I have the conference, continue with our strategy of confirming that there was a meeting with the Minister, and offer that more information will be available from me on Monday."

"I can still say I was sworn to secrecy, right?" Harry asked, looking between Dumbledore and Snape.

"Yes, of course. That is not a lie, my boy," Dumbledore answered. He gestured toward the sweets dish in offer, but Harry shook his head. He'd already brushed his teeth and didn't want to have to again.

"Now is the time that you will need to confirm the loyalty of your friends and ensure that they do not believe all that Rita Skeeter will print," said Snape.

"I know," Harry said. "I told them about Voldemort having not been really dead, and that he was finally killed in the spring. And a bit about the prophecy. They believed me."

"Your whole defence group or your dormmates?"

"Er, my dormmates. But the defence group still met after the last article and they had a few questions. After Professor Lupin's lesson on propaganda for us all I think they don't really believe the paper," Harry answered.

"Excellent," Dumbledore said. "It brings me no greater pleasure than to foster critical thinking amongst our lessons of magic."

Snape rolled his eyes at that and nodded toward the door.

"I dearly hope some of the adults in our world have also attained that ability," he said. "It's half eleven and you have a late evening tomorrow. Back to your dorm, Harry."

Harry yawned in agreement and draped his cloak around his shoulders. Snape was also walking toward the door and Harry wondered if he'd walk him back to ensure Umbridge or Filch would stay away.

"Hang on, I have a late evening tomorrow?" Harry said. "I don't have detention, and it's a Friday. No classes or quidditch."

Snape said nothing, but had a pleased little smirk on his face.

"How do I have a late evening?" Harry asked. "Are we going somewhere?"

"Perhaps," Snape said.

"Is this related to the note from Kingsley?" Harry excitedly asked.

Snape waved his wand and two small paper tickets appeared in the air, drifting lazily above Harry's head and displaying a logo that Harry was very familiar with.

"No way!" Harry said, grabbing for the tickets. They disappeared through his fingers, but Harry wasn't bothered. Snape clearly had them tucked away somewhere.

"The timing is unintentionally fortunate, given what will be in the news tomorrow," Snape said.

"What do you mean?" Harry asked, a big grin on his face. He was already picturing himself surrounded by a crowd of other teenagers, singing at the top of his lungs to his favourite Oasis songs.

"Something to look forward to at the end of a long day," Dumbledore said, giving them a little wave good night. He winked at Snape, who had a strange look on his face, Harry thought.

Snape looked like he was a little embarrassed but also slightly happy, which Harry thought was mad because this was the best gift he'd gotten for Christmas. Probably. His Weasley jumper was still maybe number one, but Harry suspected that Snape maybe knew that.

"This is brilliant," Harry said, unable to keep the grin off his face. "I've never been to a concert before."

….

Harry had a hard time sleeping, both out of concern about what the paper would actually print, and out of anticipation for the concert. His first! He didn't even care that it was Snape going with him, and not Ron and Hermione, as Harry was a little worried that he'd get overwhelmed by the crowd and Snape would be able to handle that easily.

He left his dorm room for a walk just after six, and returned just before seven having been down to the kitchens. It was a sunny Friday morning, and Harry opened the curtains by his window.

"What the fuck, Potter," Seamus grumbled, pawing at the curtains across his bed.

"Piss off," Dean mumbled.

"Sorry," Harry said. "I need to tell you about what's going to be in the paper today."

"If it's not Voldemort it can wait," Ron grumbled, without moving his body.

"It's about him," Harry said. "There's going to be a newspaper article this morning with a photo in it, of the meeting we had with the Minister after he was killed."

Neville sat up and yawned, but other than that there was no other response.

"And I need your support on this because I think people are going to look at me like I killed him," Harry continued.

"Waking us up before seven is not the best way to get my support," Dean said, rubbing his eyes and sitting up.

"Does it help that I brought pastries from the kitchen?" Harry asked, looking round the room.

"Yes," Ron said, speaking into his pillow.

"Right," Harry said, opening the box of pastries that the house elves in the kitchen had given him. The scent of fresh raspberry strudel and apple turnovers filled the room.

"s'bribery," Ron said, dragging himself up out of bed.

Seamus stretched as he sat up and beckoned for Harry to bring the box of pastries over.

"All right all right. What do we have to do?"

"Not much," Harry said. "Just… you're going to see a photo of me and Snape and Dumbledore, sitting at a table with the Minister and a bunch of aurors. And I don't know what the article is going to say, but I promise you that I told you the truth. Voldemort came back in the spring, and we defeated him. And met with the Ministry after to discuss everything."

"Why would the Ministry make a big deal about this though?" Neville asked. "Isn't it good that he's dead?"

"Yes!" Harry said, pointing at Neville and bringing the box over. "Yes, it is. He's very dead and gone. But the Ministry still wanted to cover it up."

"Kind of like how you covered up the whole being adopted by Snape thing?" Dean asked.

"… Because Voldemort was still alive and would have come after us," Harry clarified. "I went to live with my aunt because I was protected from Voldemort at her house."

Seamus shrugged.

"Still don't think living with Snape is any better. But got it. Prophet full of shite, Voldemort killed this year, Ministry didn't want us to know about it."

He crammed a turnover in his mouth and Harry saw flakes of pastry go all over his bed.

"Right," Harry confirmed.

"Grand," Seamus answered, finishing the turnover in four bites. He then gave Harry the finger and flopped back to bed.

…..

"Where's Harry?" Kingsley asked, nudging his way through the crowd and standing next to Snape.

"Centre of the madness, twenty feet ahead," Snape said, nodding toward where Harry was. "You're late."

"Everyone knows these things never start on time. His first concert?"

"Yes," Snape confirmed. "Band's not bad."

"High praise from you," Kingsley laughed. "And your first time actually paying for tickets?"

Snape rolled his eyes and gave a sly smile.

"Ah," Kingsley grinned back. "Severus Snape now has morals."

"Severus Snape now has a pay packet," Snape corrected.

Kingsley laughed again and crossed his arms, taking in the plethora of people gathered to watch Oasis.

"What's your final count before you stopped apparating in?"

Snape smirked and watched as Harry excitedly jumped up and down as he recognised the beginning notes of the song just starting.

"Several dozen," Snape replied. He handed Kingsley a bottle of beer that he'd stashed in a nook of the pillar they were standing beside. On stage the band were serenading the crowd to Some Might Say.

"I saw several dozen of just The Clash with you, Severus."

"I don't remember complaints," Snape said. "How's the Ministry?"

"Subtle," Kingsley said. Snape had cast a noise dampening spell over them, so the music was still audible but their conversation was not.

"There's a bit of panic, of course. Fudge doesn't like the idea of this conference."

"It was not my preferred choice," Snape answered. "However, that printed photo is clearly a memory and Dumbledore's plan is to get ahead of it."

"Yes, I think that's exactly Fudge's concern. Is there any way to spin this so that it doesn't look like he knew Voldemort wasn't dead and relied on Dumbledore and Harry to kill him, or, worse, that he'd been told Voldemort wasn't dead and ignored it?"

Snape raised his eyebrow and drank a sip of his own beer.

"Would you like my honest answer or an optimistic one that you may share with your boss?"

"I thought as much," Kingsley sighed. "We're also dealing with a small security breach, which is the reason I'm late."

"How small?" Snape asked, glaring at his friend.

"Bellatrix Lestrange has taken leave from Azkaban," Kingsley said. "Unplanned leave."

"I understood the implication," Snape said, frowning. "Has this been reported?"

"Not as of yet," Kingsley said, glaring at a drunk person who had bumped into him. "We suspect she has gone to Malfoy Manor. Aurors are investigating the how first, but it will likely be reported this weekend. Two escapes within his time as Minister does not look good for Fudge, so whatever your conference will entail on Monday, expect there to be a harsh reaction."

"That was our expectation regardless," Snape said, clapping automatically as the song finished and the crowd cheered. "It complicates things slightly, but was not completely unexpected."

"Is that so?" Kingsley said with a raised eyebrow. "Still keeping some things to yourself I see."

"Always," Snape said, giving him a small smile.

They watched the concert for a few more minutes, Snape glancing back and forth between the band and the boy in the midst of the crowd, a look of absolute joy on his face. Surely, he'd never looked like that in his youth, but then, concerts had been his escape from Spinner's End and it was entirely possible that he'd been just as innocent, just as wondrous. Certainly something he would not be confirming with Kingsley.

"Surprised he's not right up at the front, daring crowd crush, like his old man," Kingsley said, clearly remembering their youthful experiences as well. He smiled and nudged Snape's shoulder.

"I seem to remember that we used magic to prevent that," Snape said. "He, however, is a typical Gryffindor. Doesn't think to do magic outside of Hogwarts or home as he's underage. Unless he's in danger."

"Well, I do remember them telling us it was illegal," Kingsley laughed. "Which has never stopped a Slytherin in a large enough crowd to create plausible deniability."

"He's getting a bit better," Snape said. "He's had to lie to his friends about training, and now manipulate them a bit with the news being released. He balked at first but is now understanding the methodology behind it."

"Would you call it manipulation, or self-preservation?" Kingsley asked. "Fudge has been in a dark mood all day and Umbridge has been round this evening to meet with him. You should fully expect the blame of this cover up to be shifted to you, Harry, and Albus."

Snape shrugged but didn't comment. He'd not been sleeping well since the articles in The Daily Prophet had escalated, much like he hadn't in the lead up to the Dark Lord's final defeat. There was a point though where enough things were in motion that Snape was beyond the part of setting up any more tactics or putting in place any further assistance, and he felt like they had arrived at that point. A calmness was settling him, knowing that he'd done what he could and now had to wait to see how it was received.

Around them a large and vaguely Scottish-sounding chorus of Where were you while we were getting high? rose up from the crowd.

He had some control still, and a few options depending on how this conference went, but the cat was out of the bag as the saying went, and Snape reminded himself that the end result was actually positive. The Dark Lord was dead. Not that the Ministry would necessarily focus on that particular fact if it meant their reputation were about to be destroyed.

"Are you worried about yourself?" Kingsley asked, interrupting his thoughts.

"Yes of course," Snape immediately said. "Though there is actually no law requiring citizens to report the suspected living status of other citizens to the Ministry."

"You know I don't mean about Voldemort," Kingsley said.

The notes to Wonderwall started and a huge roar surrounded them once more.

"You have it still?" Snape asked.

Kingsley gave him a hard stare and then looked at the stage.

"Ready at a second's notice. Next time would appreciate something that doesn't bite."

Snape nodded and kept back a smile.

"Are you sure it's going to work?" Kingsley asked.

"No," Snape immediately said. "Predicting the Dark Lord's plans and actions was much easier than this. Violence and arrogance are the predictable call signs of megalomaniacs. The Ministry…"

"You may find that there is some crossover," Kingsley suggested. They both caught sight of Harry, who was making his way through the crowd to find them.

"This is partially my concern. I've always hated politics," Snape said.

"Dad!" Harry said, finally reaching them. He blinked in confusion a few times as the silencing spell settled around him.

"What is that, muffliato?"

"No," Snape said. "It's a Death Eater version."

"I reall– wait what?" Harry said. "The Death Eaters had their own version of this?"

"Some of us did," Snape smugly said. "Less chance of people breaking the enchantment if it is unrecognisable."

"Yeah, okay," Harry said, rolling his eyes. "Hi Kingsley."

"Hi Harry," Kingsley said, clasping him on the shoulder. "Excellent taste in bands."

"Thanks," Harry grinned. "Think I've decided what shirt I'm going to buy."

He kept glancing back toward the stage where the band was still performing.

"I believe that is one of the rituals of good concerts," Snape commented. "There will likely still be plenty after the show."

"Good," Harry said, nodding. "This is even better than I thought it would be."

"Mm," Snape said. "There is something special about singing one of your favourite songs with thousands of off-key semi-drunk people."

Harry laughed and Kingsley gave him a wink.

"Sounds like the perfect way to end a rough day, if you ask me," Kingsley said.

"Yeah," Harry agreed. "It was okay actually. I didn't have to come up with the whole plan for how to handle Rita Skeeter, so I didn't have to worry as much."

Another song started and Harry's face lit up in recognition. He gave a little wave and made his way back to the middle of the crowd, where the singing and bouncing along with the music was more pronounced.

"Remember when we were in school and you said you'd be a terrible dad?" Kingsley said, with a genuine smile.

"It might still be true," Snape said, sipping his beer as his cheeks slightly flushed. "We'll see how this goes over the next couple of days."