Author's Note: Here's the next chapter for you! I'm still in exams, so you should all consider yourselves very, very lucky that I am updating. Again, do not expect any updates until after the Christmas holidays (I go back to school on Jan. 8th). I want some time to myself after the semester that I've had!

Snape sat down heavily on his couch and stared at the spot Potter had been just a moment before. The boy was far too thin and it hadn't gotten any better since coming to Hogwarts. In fact, he was a little thinner than the start of the year, if Snape remembered correctly. He closed his eyes and cast his memory back to the first day of term. Perhaps. The changes were subtle. Potter had been thin starting out. Much more weight loss would be dangerous.

"Button!" he snapped into the air. The Head Elf appeared next to the couch and bowed. "Sit down, Button. I need to speak with you." Snape said, gesturing to the sofa. Button's eyes widened momentarily before sitting as requested. "It's about Harry Potter." Snape started.

"Harry Potter is such a good wizard! So smart and polite!" Button started. He lapsed into silence when Snape glared at him. "What does Professor Snape need?" He asked instead.

"I know how you elves feel about him. I've also seen some elves following Potter about from time to time. I've even seen one elf in my classroom, putting things into Potter's satchel." Snape gave Button a look that promised destruction. "I almost yelled at the boy until I noticed that he seems unaware of it. That, or he's gotten used to ignoring such things, an idea I find ludicrous now that I've gotten to know him a bit better."

"Professor Snape is correct. All of the Castle elves care for Harry Potter. They want to help Harry Potter, sir. He is a very important wizard and needs our help." Button explained.

"Fine. I have noticed that he does not eat the normal student fare. Is there an elf or group of elves that dedicate themselves to his diet?" Snape asked.

"Oh, yes. That would be Serry." Button answered with a smile. "Shall I call Serry for you, sir?" Button asked.

"Yes, please." Snape answered. Button snapped his own fingers, and another elf appeared and bowed.

"Serry, sir." She said in a bubbling tone. "What can I do for you?" She asked, seeing Snape before her.

"I need to speak with you about Potter." Snape told him. "Thank you, Button. You can go."

"You're welcome, Professor. Harry Potter needs someone like you." Snape only raised an eyebrow as the elf disappeared.

"Please sit down, Serry." Snape said, gesturing to the sofa again. Serry popped into place and looked up at Snape expectantly. "Button says you're in charge of Potter's diet."

"Yes, Professor Snape. Serry prepares all of Harry Potter's choices." She said with pride.

"His choices? What do you mean?" Snape hadn't heard the elves speak of something in that way before.

"Harry Potter didn't enjoy any of my suggestions at the Welcoming Feast. The elves arranged for him to choose what he would and wouldn't eat from a list, and then I fix dishes from his choices. He doesn't want anything bad for him, so I continue offering what he will eat."

"Did he say why he didn't choose certain things when he made his decisions?" Snape asked curiously. He had seen Potter eat a few things at the Malfoys' he hadn't eaten at school.

"No, sir. Just that he didn't like sweets." Serry told him.

Snape sat back in his seat and thought for a moment. This proved to be interesting. "Do you still have the original of that list?" He asked.

"Oh, yes! Serry uses it every time she cooks for Harry Potter." The elf looked quite excited.

"May I see it?" He asked. "I have a feeling Potter may not be making the correct nutritional choices for himself."

"That would be terrible!" Serry popped once and came back again with a roll of parchment. "This is the list Harry Potter made." She said as she handed it over to Snape.

Snape took it from her fingers and unrolled it. He studied it and frowned. "It appears that he is trying to lose weight...while nutritious, the list he made will not help him gain weight. With this list, he's trying to get nothing but muscle. Not entirely healthy for a boy his age." Snape commented. He jumped when Serry made a wailing sound. "It can be fixed." He told her sharply. He couldn't stand it when females cried, much less female house elves. The wailing noise choked itself off.

"It can?" Serry asked, dabbing at her eyes with the edge of her towel. "How?"

"I can make some additions that will help." Snape told her. "I'll even give you a letter to deliver with his first meal tomorrow that will explain the changes." Snape told her. "Come back in twenty minutes. I'll have everything you need then."

"Thank you, Professor Snape, sir. Harry Potter is fortunate you are his professor." Serry said as she stood and disappeared.

"I get the feeling Potter does not belong in Ravenclaw." Snape said in the air after her disappearance. He stood and went to his desk. He read through the list and started marking things that should be added to Harry's diet. He jotted a quick note threatening Potter's Potions grade if he should ignore the changes and called Serry back. One mystery solved. Now, all we need to do is figure out his dreams, his reactions to close people, and his reticence to talking about it all. I am not a counselor! Snape went to his bedroom and threw himself onto the surface. Perhaps he doesn't need a counselor. Or doesn't want one. Some way to get out his emotions...they seem to be the most troublesome part. We know the dreams disturb him...he won't talk about it. Would he talk about them? Would he write about them? Put them into a pensieve? Would a Muggle counselor be the answer? I must write to Narcissa and get her opinion. Snape fell asleep, still fully clothed and worrying over Potter.

Dear Narcissa,

I see what you meant about the Potter boy. I will do my best, though he may also benefit from a mother's attention, as I get the impression he gets little attention from home.

S. Snape

Harry scowled at his plate and wondered what on earth Serry was thinking. There was a lot of food on his plate, food that he remembered marking off the list. He scowled again and reached for his juice. He nearly choked when he found chocolate milk in his goblet. He set it down and wondered when the entire world had gone mad. He jumped when an envelope appeared next to his plate.

He picked it up and inspected the outside for any clues to the identity of the sender. Nothing. He broke the seal and slid out the piece of parchment.

Mr. Potter,

Your diet, while sufficient for a person in terms of nutrition, is not enough to support a growing body. I have made appropriate changes that will allow for both nutrition and weight gain. You may feel free to discuss it with me, but I do insist that you eat like this at every meal, otherwise you will continue to be skeletal instead of your desired results...and endanger that Outstanding you have in Potions.

S. Snape

Harry's first thought was that Snape was blackmailing him. Harry knew his Potions grade was not important per se, buthe didn't want to wreck his persona over something like this. His second thought returned logic to his mind. He wanted to hit himself for being stupid. He had forgotten that the nutritional eating had only come after his teacher had bulked him up. Absolutely brilliant, Potter. Harry told himself as he put the note into his satchel and wondered how he would explain it to Snape. Maybe I can spin it as 'I didn't understand what I read'...

"Morning." Terry said as he settled next to Harry. "Looks like you're eating like a normal person."

"I'm going to ignore what you just said and wait until you come back to your senses." Harry told Terry without looking at him.

"Right." Terry helped himself to the eggs and started on his own food. "Maybe now you won't be so scrawny."

"I can't hear you!" Harry said, putting his hands over his ears.

"Oh, that's real mature." Terry commented. Harry grinned at his friend. He had put some of his worst memories into his pensieve, and he felt a little lighter this morning after a sleep laced with Calming Draught and removal of some of his most frightening moments on earth. He felt almost normal.

"Mr. Potter?" Harry looked up from his book to see Professor Flitwick waving at him. "Come with me, please." Harry frowned and shut his book as he stood from his chair in the Ravenclaw common room.

"What is it, Professor?" Harry asked as he went over to his teacher.

"Let's go to my office." Flitwick said as he turned.

"Did I do something wrong, sir?" Harry asked.

"No, child." Flitwick answered with a sort of sad smile. "You've done nothing wrong."

Harry blinked. Child? He only uses words like that when something is wrong...like someone died..."Is my aunt okay?" Harry asked. I need that protection!

"As far as I know." Flitwick said. "Please quit worrying. There is nothing wrong." Flitwick said. He opened his office door and ushered Harry in.

Harry stopped two steps into the room and froze. All the Heads of Houses and Dumbledore were in the room. Professor McGonagall and Sprout were seated on little puffy stools. Dumbledore lounged in a loud neon green armchair. Snape stood with his back to a bookcase nearly as tall as he. Flickwick climbed into his chair that had spells on it to adjust the height as needed. There was only one chair left. Harry had a feeling it was for him. The entire conglomeration of chairs formed a circle around a table that held a tea service.

"Please sit down, Harry.' Dumbledore said with a smile. Harry shot a look at Snape. The man's face was tight, but he gave Harry a quick nod to indicate Harry should sit. Harry stepped forward and lowered himself into the seat. "We are all greatly concerned about you, Harry."

"Sir?" Snape wouldn't have told. No, he'd keep that type of information to himself.

"Yes, quite concerned." Dumbledore said. "Someone told us about one of your dreams...about Sirius Black."

Good job, Hermione. "Excuse me, sir. I have a friend to hex." Harry said as he stood. He was shocked when all of the teachers (except Snape) burst into laughter.

"She said you would say that." Dumbledore told him. "She also said that she is not hiding in the library." Harry dropped back into his chair and let out a Russian swear word the twins had taught him when he was sixteen. Harry heard Snape snort from the corner. Oops.

"Now, Mr. Potter." He turned to face McGonagall. "You say that Sirius Black is talking to you in your dreams."

"Do we have to talk about this?" Harry asked. McGonagall gave him that stern look that said: this is for your own good. He balked. He never liked that look before and it wasn't any better now.

"I'm afraid we must if you're not sleeping like you should." Dumbledore said with his expression falling into concern.

"Okay." Harry dropped his eyes to study his shoes. This isn't going how I wanted...but I can work with this. "It's the same dream over and over."

"We have some pictures for you to look at." McGonagall said as she opened a folder on the table. Harry scooted forward in his chair and picked up the first picture. He went through them slowly, picking up each one, studying it, and then putting it aside. He found it halfway through the pile and stopped.

"That's him." Harry said, pointing at the picture. "That's Sirius Black." Harry stopped and waited.

"Are you sure, Mr. Potter?" McGonagall asked.

"Yes, ma'am." He told her. Harry slid back in his chair and waited. Why in the world would he suddenly stop and point at a picture if he wasn't sure about the identity of the person? Honestly, adults still confused him to this day, even though he was an adult...technically.

"Could you tell us exactly what is in your dream about Sirius Black?" Dumbledore asked. Harry felt something brush against his Occlumency shields, and he frowned.

"What do you want to know?" He asked, massaging his forehead. He wondered how he could get Dumbledore and Snape to stop doing Legillmency on him. It was extremely annoying and downright disturbing when something just nudged on his mind like that.

"Just tell us from the beginning." Dumbledore told him.

Harry stopped and wondered how to start. He hadn't really had a dream like this before...he had made it up when Hermione had confronted him. He wanted Sirius to be freed, but he didn't want to become the center of it all. He wanted Sirius freed as a matter of justice. "I'm alone." He started. That is true. I am alone. "I'm not anywhere. No walls, nothing really." He closed his eyes as though it helped him to remember. It was helping him to imagine a dream. "Someone calls my name, and I turn around. I don't have my wand, but I don't feel threatened, not like h-" He stopped. He hadn't meant to say that. "I don't know who he is." He shrugged and sighed. His eyes opened again, and he studied his shoes to avoid looking at anyone. "I sit down for some reason, and he sits down next to me. He knows who I am, but it's not like how everyone knows who I am...he knows me."

Harry paused and wondered how to continue. "He says that he was framed, that he wasn't the Secret keeper. The way he says that makes me think being a 'Secret Keeper' is something special." Harry looked up but didn't receive confirmation one way or another. "He says Pettigrew was the Secret Keeper, that they had switched at the last moment. He says that Pettigrew belongs to You-Know-Who, that Pettigrew belongs in Azkaban." Harry stopped for a moment and tried to look innocent. "Azkaban is the wizarding prison. I looked it up. No one belongs there without doing something really wrong."

"After he tells me that, it starts to get cold. Freezing. I can see my breath, and Sirius Black looks scared, but I would be too, after what I hear." Harry said, his voice going hollow. He thought he would get used to hearing his mother scream, but he never had managed to become used to it. It only depressed him more. "I hear someone, a woman, I mean, screaming 'not Harry'. I'm freezing, and she just keeps screaming." He wrapped his arms around himself and fought off the shudders. You never get used to reliving your worst memory, though I have to wonder what my worst memory is now, after what I've been through.

"Thank you for telling us, Mr. Potter." McGonagall's soft voice said into the heavy silence that had fallen after Harry's narrative.

"You can help him, right?" Harry said quietly as he started to pull himself together. "I don't know who he really is or why something like this is happening to me, but I just can't allow someone who may be innocent to exist with those dementor things." He stood up from his chair. "I've read about them. Imagine your worst memory playing over and over." Harry didn't have to fake his shudder then.

"We'll do what we can." Dumbledore told him. "Madame Pomfrey will have Dreamless Sleeping potion for you when you cannot sleep, Mr. Potter." He told Harry with a smile. "That should guarantee you some good nights of sleep."

"Thank you, sir." Harry told Dumbledore. He ignored Snape's pale face in the corner and left the office.

Dumbledore collapsed backwards into his chair and sighed. "What do you think, everyone?" He said to the room at large.

"That poor dear. What a dream." Professor Sprout said.

"I meant about the dream. Is it a spell, a memory, or something else?" Dumbledore clarified.

"Something else." Snape said when no one else was willing to speak up. "The boy is not much of an actor. I can read his face like a book most of the time, and he wasn't acting." Snape told Dumbledore. "That shivering when he was talking about the dementors was real. Either he's experienced their effects before, or he is telling the truth. I vote for the latter."

"Sirius Black? Innocent?" Minerva sputtered from her stool. "You can't honestly expect us to believe that. He killed thirteen people with a single spell."

"How?" Snape asked. "Black may have been an Auror, but no Auror I know can kill that many people with one spell. How did Black do half the things he is said to have done? We have no real proof save that of eye witnesses who were traumatized at the time and then Obliviated. We don't know half of what happened that day, and the half we do know is tainted by the joy of the Dark Lord's downfall." Snape sneered and pulled his robe around him.

"I'm surprised you're defending the man, Severus." Dumbledore said from his own chair.

"I'm not defending Black, Headmaster. I merely wish to ensure that justice, no matter how ill-deserved by some people, is done." His lips thinned. "May I remind you of justice in my case?" he told Dumbledore.

"I remember quite well, Severus." Dumbledore told him. "Alright, I need everyone to think about those last few days. See if you can remember anything about Peter and Black, anything that might point guilt one way or another." Dumbledore stood and turned to look at his employees. "That is all we can do for now."

Snape left the office with a headache. Potter was having dreams of dementors? He almost shivered in sympathy. He remembered the effects of dementors all too well. He even dreamed of it from time to time. It was disturbing that an eleven year old was having such dreams.

The dream he had witnessed was not one of dementors. The dream Draco had seen had nothing to do with dementors. In fact, Snape would bet an entire bottle of whiskey that the boy only dreamed of dementors once in a while. The rest, well, he had no idea what to call the rest. 'Disturbing' fit. So did 'unsettling'. 'Frightening' also could be used to describe them.

He entered his quarters in a pensive mood. Dumbledore's instructions to think back had caused Snape to smirk to himself. Why in the world wouldn't Dumbledore fly to the Ministry to demand the man's release? He could do it. Few would stand in the way of Dumbledore's wrath when he summoned it. Unless-he didn't believe the boy. That was a possibility.

Of course, with what I already know, I believe the boy. I'd take the boy's word over Dumbledore's at this point. Potter hasn't been wrong yet. Every prediction he's made in my presence has come true in some way. He had said the Stone wasn't safe...I caught Quirrell going after it. He had said that a troll would ruin the Feast; it happened. He mentioned that he would leave the castle at Christmas. He left the castle and went to the Malfoys. He even predicted my needing a headache potion that one session, even when no sign of migraine had shown up. If the boy says his dreams tell him that Sirius Black is innocent, then he must be, as loathe as I am to admit it. If Dumbledore doesn't do something soon, then, by the gods, I will!

Author's Note: Thanks for reading. I'm off to study for a final. Remember, nothing until after the holidays!