Hello, hello! *Snape rolls his eyes, making all the luggage float after them* We are back from vacation! Although we haven't tanned, we are refreshed and ready to complete the challenge of this little sequel (that somehow is promising not to be so little after all).

Enjoy it while it lasts, by the way! It is the last fic on Harry Potter that I am going to do. *watches everyone around cheer and Snape breathe more freely* Anyhow, let's get on with it! We still have a long ways to go… *ominous cackle*

Oh, and something else: I've been asked by many about the link to the fanfiction contest that GWTT is nominated in (thanks, by the way, Kemenran!), and it can be found in my profile, if you click on my nickname. It just wouldn't show in a chapter.

Chapter 6 *hits play*

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            Harry was deep into his Transfiguration homework, which was getting harder and harder as the dreaded OWLs were drawing closer by. Harry wasn't overtly worried; he had passed much harder tests than OWLs, or anything the academic system could throw at him. The only actual worry that Harry had was History of Magic: He was absolutely lousy at memorising sequences of events. He sighed, and started swishing his wand at the turtle in front of him. It didn't take more than two tries, and when he felt around, the turtle wasn't there. He frowned, fingering around for the cup that was supposed to be there.

"Hey, Harry!" Hermione's voice startled the concentrated boy, and he heard a smash near his feet, as his fingers involuntarily pushed against cool china.

"Oh, 'Mione… you just killed my turtle," he said and sighed warily. He heard his friend click her tongue and the low muttering of the Reparo charm. A small china cup was put in his hand.

"There, I just resurrected it. It's a really good cup, by the way- no pattern or tortoise shell on it," she commented.

"Thank you, professor," Harry teased her, setting the cup carefully, remembering exactly where he put it on the desk.

"No really, I enjoy seeing you work and study and progress so nicely!"

"Thank you… but I bet that you are not here to congratulate me, are you?"

"Oh no. I found us a place for lessons!"

"You did?"

"Well, actually I asked Professor Dumbledore, and it was his idea," Hermione said as she slid closer to Harry, lowering her voice.

"Well then?"

"It is a room that kind of floats around in the castle, and presents itself only when you absolutely need to do something. Few know of it, and the Headmaster discovered it quite recently himself. It's called the room of Requirement."

"It sounds relatively safe," Harry said thoughtfully.

"Not only safe- the room will provide everything we will need for you to teach us combat," Hermione said triumphantly.

"Combat?" Harry laughed mirthlessly, "you make it sound so… medieval."

"Anyway, I have told everyone that will be there in the lessons. We will meet at the room, at the evening study period, okay?"

"I was planning to go visit Snape at the evening study period," Harry said sulkily.

"Go visit after lunch! This is important!" Hermione pressed.

"I know how important it is much more than you!" Harry snapped back, and he heard Hermione inhale sharply. He bit his lip, breathing evenly. He knew Hermione had not meant to be presumptuous… but she had been. Harry swallowed, tried to tell her something, anything to cushion the remark, but could find nothing. So instead, he got up, picked up his transfigured cup and walked away, knowing that the silence he heard from where his friend was sitting was not anything nice. Why couldn't I just tell her I was sorry?

***

            Remus walked in the infirmary just as Snape was getting ready to leave. The potions master paused, and looked at the werewolf.

"I'll start brewing the wolfsbane tonight, Lupin," he said and gingerly pulled on his shirt. His voice was scathing, accusing; why had the damn pest walked in when his body was exposed to his view, with all the welts and blemishes that still lingered? Snape fleetingly thanked his luck that at least the blisters were gone.

"I am not here for the wolfsbane, Severus," Remus said gently, "but to see how you are doing."

"Just like you did every time I would end up in the infirmary without having asked for trouble?"

Remus sighed.

"I can't believe it still hurts you so much. You know that none of us was proud of what we did at that age. Besides you retaliated."

"I am not proud for losing you your job a couple of years ago; does that make you feel better that I did it?"

Remus' eyes flashed momentarily, and Snape sneered in recognition of the emotions that he had dredged up.

"See? It hardly makes a difference," Snape said and got up carefully. Remus watched the man, slightly thrown off balance. Snape was right- Remus was still mad at the ex-deatheater for ratting on him, thus costing him the best job that he had had in years; but he had that job again, now, and he had worked through those feelings… hadn't he?

"Touché…" Remus said softly as Snape retrieved his wand and called his cloak to him. He didn't bother to answer anything, and he seemed again withdrawn in that steel shell of indifference that he had developed in his youth. Remus breathed.

"I am still angry at that man. But you are not that man anymore."

Snape turned to look at him, an eyebrow arched.

"Just like James wasn't that person, not after … after Lily, and Sirius…"

"Black is always going to be Black, Lupin," Snape smirked as he clasped the cloak and straightened it. Remus sighed and looked with a weak smile at the proud man, straight as a rod and unbeaten. Snape walked past him in his usual manner of swishing garments and threatening countenance.

Remus blinked after him in surprise. Did he actually wink at me!?

***

            Harry heard the soft footsteps as he was going towards the infirmary. He blinked in surprise, remembering that not two days ago, when he had snuck in the infirmary at night (being a prefect definitely had its pros), the man had looked close to falling apart, with all the suffering that his skin displayed. Harry had actually seen- through Sasha. But there he was now hearing the sure, precise, threshold-level footsteps of the man he had planned to visit.

"Professor?"

"Correct, Potter. Is there something you need?" the silky voice resonated, and Harry grinned.

"You were supposed to be in the infirmary!"

"I do beg pardon for disappointing. Aren't you supposed to be having lunch?"

"I already have had it. I was actually coming to see you," Harry said and approached. Sasha hissed from his wrist, and Harry chuckled at what she said. Then he gasped in surprise.

Snape had smirked, too.

"Do not gape Mr. Potter, it underlines the incapacity for abstract thought," Snape said in dripping sarcasm.

"Professor," Harry stammered.

"We are in the corridor, Potter," Snape chided and about turned to leave. But Harry would not let it slip this time. The suspicion crept back in his mind, and he recalled, crystal clear the first time he suspected: He had never told Snape Sasha's name, and yet the professor knew it beforehand. Actually, it seemed that Snape always reacted to little things and doings that only a parselmouth would react to. Was it ever possible?

            Harry blinked around, and realised that he couldn't hear Snape's footsteps any longer. Actually it seemed that the Potions Master had left the corridor. How could he have gone past me without me feeling him pass? He couldn't understand it, or explain it; for Harry had learned to detect movement even when he was deep in thought. However, the fact remained that Snape was gone, and Harry had not heard a sound.

            He directed himself to the dungeons, knowing that Snape would go there for the second year Potions, Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs that were scheduled after lunch, which was due to finish in 20 minutes. He almost knocked his forehead against the potion master's classroom, so deep in his hurry that he did not tap ahead in the familiar environment. He pushed it open and entered cautiously, his ears just catching the sound of a flask or bottle popping.

"Whatever manners you had, have clearly evaporated, haven't they, Potter? We actually knock before we barge through someone's area."

"Would you like me to go outside again and knock?"

"I wouldn't risk it if I were you. I might not let you in," Snape's voice had an odd, ironic yet in the same time playful slant. Harry wondered if he wouldn't make an interesting friend back when he was a teenager- or an incredibly annoying one, anyway. He didn't have time to decide, however, because Snape asked all of a sudden:

"You had a vision the day Fudge was killed, I recall."

"Yes…" Harry said cautiously.

"Would you mind telling me what it was you saw exactly? It is very important."

Harry shivered, remembering the last time he had been asked to recall things by the grim man, and plodded on. Just don't forget to ask him afterwards.

"There was green fume all around, and voldemort's eyes flashed once… then I saw a hand being ripped off its flesh, and felt as if under crucio. And cackling. A lot of cackling."

"Is that all?" Snape detected the hesitation in the boy's voice.

"… It was as if he was in my mind… and his hand was squeezing my heart to death."

            Snape was glad that Harry was blind- he couldn't see the sudden pallor of his face.

"Did he speak to you?"

"Sir?"

"You whispered before passing out, that he had only begun. Why?"

Harry swallowed, playing with the cane in his hands.

"I am not sure. He might have talked. I don't remember everything so well. It's a little fuzzy."

"Don't fib to me, Potter, you are not that exercised."

"I don't share the same priviledge as Zabini in being taught Occlumency," Harry smiled sardonically, leaning on his cane.

"Eye-contact is very important for serious Occlumentic influence- and you are blind," Snape said flatly.

"Thank you for reminding me, Professor," Harry mock bowed.

"So what else did you see or hear or feel that you haven't told me yet?"

Harry swallowed and fidgeted.

"He said he would enjoy watching me."

"He has understood the mind link you share?"

"I am not sure. It was more of a thought. I think he was thinking to himself, not addressing me," Harry licked his lips, feeling suddenly small and culpable. Snape paced, worry about what those words could mean ensnaring him.

Harry breathed in, and did the first thing he could think of to get out of the unpleasant conversation.

"When were you planning to tell me that you are a parselmouth?" Harry hissed, and Snape stopped pacing. Harry felt the man's glare on him. His heart skipped beats- he had spoken in parseltongue. Snape measured the young Gryffindor up for the umpteenth time since he had been forced by the hand of fate to get to know him better. The wiry boy had grown a little- not too much, he was still at best medium height- his eyes had developed that decided flare of a fighter that could burn even if they could not focus, and was standing straight, almost fidgeting with anticipation of what the potion master's answer would be. Snape almost smirked. He had had an advantage over Harry ever since he had laid eyes on him: he knew more about the Potter boy than the Potter boy knew about him. It was something he savoured and delighted in. How much was he willing to give up from that advantage, if at all?

"I would never dream of telling you of a thing such as this," Snape answered calmly, "because I simply do not speak the language of the snakes."

"Then how did you understand what I asked?" Harry asked triumphantly.

"Focus, Potter. I said I do not speak it. And now remove yourself from my classroom- I have a lesson to set up for."

Harry walked out in a daze. Hermione will have a field day.

***

Sirius and Remus looked at the glass box holding the remnants of the murderous letter with unending frustration.

"I don't believe this thing! It's as if it dropped from Mars!"

"I think it's high time we admit defeat, at least for now, and tell Dumbledore that the ward on homing spells is unbreakable by anything we know. That in itself is information," Remus said calmly, looking at the remnant of the snake on the paper envelope, eyeing them with hatred. Sirius kicked a chair.

"Yes, awesome information, you don't say! We know it's one of the darkest spells for warding ever created- that our good old rotten DUD Lord is –bound- to know! Whoopee, we didn't know that, for sure!"

"Calm down, Padfoot. We haven't heard what Severus has done yet. Besides, it's not hopeless, we have an indication of how it works."

"Well unless Moldyguts tries to enforce his will through whatever's left of the letter, we won't have much luck homing in to him, will we?"

"I see someone is yapping uselessly again," came the drawling voice of the Potions Master from the door. Sirius rounded on the smirking professor that was watching him with that infuriating air of superiority.

"How about I yap another tune for you!?"

"Sirius! Knock it off." Remus said irritatedly. Snape glided inside the DADA professor's office and sat down.

"I assume you haven't gone further than last time with the wards, have you?"

"Not really. It seems that every time it breaks, it instantly springs up doubly strong."

"I should expect so," smirked Snape.

"Why don't you illuminate us?" Sirius asked in scathing politeness.

Snape steepled his hands and frowned.

"The reason you cannot break the ward that would reveal where the potion was made or the whereabouts of the one controlling its effect, is because the potion brewer managed to incorporate the Fidelius charm in the potion. You can't find anything unless we get the name of the potion brewer otherwise."

A somewhat lengthy pause ensued where both wizards watched Snape.

"… And?" Sirius broke the silence.

"And I am still trying to find the signature. It's not as easy as digging up a bone," Snape sneered.

"So you are in the same square as we are," Sirius said triumphantly.

"At least I know why I am having trouble reaching my goal," Snape said and got up.

***

Harry went to stand in front of the room of Requirement, and concentrated. I need so much not to be found out. We need a room that will keep our lessons secret. He waited a while, then walked forward, until his fingers touched a door where wall used to be. He smiled thinly and opened the door, walking inside.

His skin instantly crawled. There were more people in there than two or three.

"Who is here?" he asked, his hand gripping his cane.

"Hi Harry, it's ok, let me tell you who is here," Hermione's rather nervous voice reached his ears, and he heard people trying to breathe calmly.

"There is Blaise here, of course," Hermione started and Blaise said hi only to let Harry hear she was there, "and Ron…"

"And that should have been it! We can't actually advertise, Hermione, what where you thinking??"

"Actually Harry, it's safe- it's only me," Draco's voice said, rather amused.

"And me, Harry, I can keep secrets," Ginny's voice,

"And you can't keep us-"

"- out of any mischief whatsoever," Fred and George's voices.

Harry swallowed. He had not been prepared to teach class. Then, he heard another quite familiar fidgeting.

"Neville??"

"Well, I uh, I overheard Hermione, and- and I would like to be able to fight- those people, the Death Eaters, you know… I have… I have good reason," Neville said timidly, and Harry could not say no. He knew Neville's reasons.

"Will you help us all, Harry?" Hermione asked, as she had obviously been put in charge of negotiations. Harry breathed and exhaled in defeat.

"Well I guess since you are all here, I can't chuck you out, can I? Get your wands out, and tell me when you are ready. We'll start with some simple shielding charms," Harry said, and, hearing the cheering of most of the students, he couldn't help smiling.

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And that's that! Right on time for September 1st! Aren't you glad? It's the usual quota! I hope it didn't bore you, and it made you guess some things. *Snape snorts*

Again, I got no time to answer reviews… please forgive me. I will answer in an author's note tomorrow.Hhhhehehehehehe