Harry knew that he made a weird picture as he burst into the common room, out of breath from running up the stairs. He was the strangest mixture of dreading intensely his upcoming fate with Snape and of high excitement.

Spotting Ron and Hermione waiting for him, he made his way quickly over to them. The first thing that came out of his mouth was an overly loud exclamation.

"I have an aunt!"

Harry felt like bouncing on the spot. The other Gryffindors who had turned at the noise seemed content to now ignore him, dismissing any quirks as part of the craziness of the 'chosen one'.

Ron and Hermione exchanged confused looks, and then seemed to debate silently who would say anything.

Ron coughed slightly. "Yes, Harry, we know."

This was news to him. "Really? How did you know? I only learnt today, and I don't see how you could know about her yet." He quietened down a little, becoming a little worried at the looks the pair were exchanging. They seemed to think that he was insane, from the way they were frowning.

Brushing a stray curl out of her face, Hermione said, "Harry, you live with her. Of course we know."

"Oh. No, not that aunt. I have a new one. Her name is Azalea. Another aunt!"

His friends held looks of dawning comprehension. Of course, it would be good for them if their friend wasn't insane, Harry thought wryly.

"Err- that's good, mate." There was a pause, and then Ron, after flicking a look at Hermione first, asked, "Do you know anything else about her?"

Harry deflated promptly. No, he didn't. It wasn't as if Snape was ever free with information. Harry had no idea how the man even knew about his mother's family.

Shaking his head, making dark hair fly about, Harry said slowly, "No. Not really." Remembering, he added, "I think she's around four years older than my Mum."

"Well, that's a start, I suppose, Harry." Hermione peered closer at him. "You look really tired, you know. It's like you are just about to crash."

Harry nodded, able to admit that this was probably true.

"Oh, yeah. I have detention tomorrow too. And probably for the rest of the year, knowing Snape. But I still have a new aunt!"

His two friends now seemed to be almost permanently bemused.

"Harry-"

"Goodnight!"

He jogged away from them, now simply eager to go to sleep.


The next day, Harry was not nearly so excited. The shock had worn off, and reality kicked in. Petunia had never mentioned a sister, to the extent of his knowledge. This could be the result of a few things. The reason he hoped for was that she merely disapproved of anyone who didn't react the same way as she did to magic, which meant they were estranged, or that Petunia disapproved of her because of some trivial reason, like hating Uncle Vernon. That would be good.

But Harry knew that, just as equally, he could never have heard of her because of something else. Snape might be confused. She might have died. Or, if Snape did prefer her to Petunia, she might be absolutely horrible and believe in ridiculously strict discipline. That was probably quite likely, come to think of it.

Then again, not much could be worse than living with Petunia and Vernon. And, even if he did get to know her and she was awful, he didn't have to associate with her. So, perking himself up, he contented himself with imagining more and more far-fetched things that Petunia would have been ashamed to acknowledge in a sister. This Azalea could have become a musician. She could have run off with the circus, or decided to live in Saudi Arabia. Maybe she had a love of animals and studied different types of beetles…


Laying his cutlery down precisely, Severus Snape looked out across the head table to watch the students. His Slytherins seemed to be fine, though Montague still seemed to be lacking the ability to focus properly. Moving his gaze across the hall, the Ravenclaws didn't seem to be up to anything more mischievous than reading the odd book under the table, and the Hufflepuffs were clustered in little groups, chatting quietly, or, in the case of the Smith boy, obnoxiously. That child had mastered the art of annoying as many people as possible.

On the table draped in red and gold, things were not nearly so calm. The idiot McLaggen seemed to be boasting about his non-existent conquests, and was brandishing his knife rather violently. Brown and Patil were giggling stupidly. Why did all the upper years of that house have to be so irritatingly imbecilic? The first and second years this time were bearable, but all the rest seemed to be exceedingly awful.

The Potter boy was not talking, just tracing circles on his plate with his knife. Good. That boy had better be nervous.

In a measured movement, Severus stood. On his right, Minerva turned her attention on him.

"Where are you going, Severus? Dinner isn't over yet."

Lining his seat up with the edge of the table, Severus replied.

"I have an… appointment… with Mr Potter. I need to prepare for it, so I am leaving. In all probability, I shall not be in the staffroom later tonight."

Minerva closed her eyes for a long moment, seemingly in sufferance. Of course, she would be worried, with all the attention the boy was receiving from Umbridge.

"I won't delay you, then. I will see you tomorrow morning, I suppose. Goodnight."

He inclined his head to her, then swept away to the doorway behind the dais. Time to think on how to deal with Potter.


Severus had no idea how he had managed to get stuck in the staffroom with Dolores Umbridge for company. The infernal woman seemed to want to talk with him, or rather at him, and he now he was delayed.

"Oh, Professor Snape, your fifth-year Slytherins are being extremely helpful with my little project."

All he had wanted was to fetch the papers that he had left behind before meeting to exact his vengeance on Potter, and he was stuck with this.

"… and Draco Malfoy is being especially diligent, Severus- may I call you Severus? He and Miss Parkinson are finding many offenders and are not afraid to use their power over them wisely."

Draco Malfoy was a pompous idiot, and how could such a small woman block a doorway so well?

Wait.

"No, you may not."

He glared at her, noting with disgust her overly large and gaudy brooch. He had been trying to avoid looking at her, but he now found that it just gave him more reason to detest her.

"Hmm? What was that, Severus?"

"You may not call me by your first name, as I have not yet given you leave to." He clenched his fingers around the papers and raised a scathing eyebrow at her. His tone becoming sarcastic, he said, "I doubt that I will ever give you leave, considering my relationship with you."

Severus left it at that for her to mull over his meaning. He felt that he could have gone on a lot longer, and maybe added something along the lines of professional conduct with you would be giving credit where it is not due, or I would sooner talk with Harry Potter than with you.

That was certainly true. Of course, with Potter he was the one to hold the power. With Umbridge, he had to at least pretend that he respected her slightly.

"Why, I- What do you mean by that?"

"Merely that I do not believe that we ought to be on first name terms, as your role of High Inquisitor should be impartial. By speaking with me in a more intimate fashion, you bow to partiality, Madam Umbridge." And disgust me with your forwardness.

She simpered at him, waving a ringed hand in the air. "Oh, if that is the case, then… What was I saying? Oh, yes, Miss Parkinson has been very skilled at finding female offenders. However, that Miss Bulstrode has been quite unpleasant, and not helpful in the least. She is a blight on the rest of that year-group for your house."

Millicent Bulstrode was not afraid of telling the truth, and was likely to have told it to Umbridge in all of its ugly glory. He was quite fond of her, if he could be said to be fond of any of his students. Her ambition was well thought out and didn't compromise her morals in the least.

"Said some very nasty things about my discipline methods…"

Severus stepped forward, and said in a slow, pointed manner, "I must leave now. I have a detention to attend to." He wished that he could be pointed in more than his manner- she deserved to have a sharp pointy thing dug into her.

"A detention? Well, I am not one to get in the way of rightful discipline."

"Yes, a detention." If it wasn't technically, it was because he had thought of much worse things to do to the boy. "Let me leave or I shall be late."

"If I may ask, who is it being punished?"

What right had she to ask? But if it let him leave… "Harry Potter. Excuse me."

She barely had time to step aside before he swept past her. He wanted to slam the door in her face, but refrained because it would mean he would be delayed even more to comment on how strange it was that a gust of wind was slamming all the doors in its path.