A/N

I'm so excited – more than 1,000 followers to this story. There have been many helpful hints and fantastic ideas so far. Too many even, I have to admit. Please don't be sad that there simply isn't enough room to put every single one of them into action.

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Coincidences

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Hogwarts – Great Hall – 12th of January – Lunch

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With carefully studied poise Headmaster Dumbledore was sitting at the teachers' table. He was waiting for the arrival of the mail owls, hoping for a very special delivery, to the young Longbottom. He suppressed a sigh when he remembered the last evening. His behaviour had been an error, a nearly critical one even. The resistance of Miss Granger had been a surprise, the reaction of Mister Longbottom an even greater one. With Minerva observing the whole exchange he should have refrained from using his Legilimency skills. Or at least he should have stopped after realizing her resistance.

He needed the sympathy or at least the respect of both students if he wanted to ever be able to get back the trust of the Potter-boy. After the disaster around Gringotts their so far splendid relationship – with the naïve boy rating him as something like a well-meaning grandfather – had received a grave dent. His behaviour yesterday had been a result of this sudden change. It had been a hasty – and stupid, he had to admit – decision. Now he had to rebuild from a heap of self-imposed fragments.

The first step had been a letter to Augusta Longbottom. He had written her immediately after his conversation with Minerva. Albus shuddered shortly. No, it hadn't been a conversation, more a one-sided shouting match with Minerva trying to blast his head away with the brunt of her rage. Only after some embarrassing grovelling had he been able to sooth her at least a little. He had promised her to apologize for his behaviour and not repeat it. He intended to keep this promise. At least he wouldn't allow anyone to catch him doing otherwise. With a bit of luck his letter would reach Augusta before her grandson would be able to write her. With an even bigger clump of luck she would believe him.

For a moment his eyes roamed around the table.

Moody – he had spoken with him this morning. His old friend would try to deepen his connection to the boy, perhaps even change it into a mentor-student friendship. Moody had proposed to offer the boy some additional training. With Potter's interest in duelling and DADA he certainly would agree. If his plans about getting back the students' trust didn't work, Albus would need someone near Harry, someone who was on his side steadfastly and without qualms like Minerva.

Minerva – she was sitting with Filius and Pomona. Since their collective action a month ago, their already formidable friendship had only deepened. He knew about the newly intensified correspondence between Minerva and Agatha Pinegrew. It had resulted in a number of ideas Minerva brought to his attention – plans about changing things at Hogwarts. Mostly they were small and unimportant ones like a teacher accompanying the first train of the school year – meant to help Muggleborn newcomers – or offering fruits in addition to the sweets on the train. Proposing to think about it had been enough to get back some sorely needed brownie points. But sooner or later she would ask again.

Other ideas had been more far-reaching and he had been able to stall her with his concerns about the needed funding. She wanted to broaden the subject of Muggle Lore, wanted to incorporate the reverse: Content to teach the Muggleborns something about the laws and quirks of the Wizarding. Even the – in the eyes of Muggles outdated – wizard marriage laws should be a theme of that subject, in Minerva's eyes at least. Albus didn't like these ideas in the least. Too much knowledge in the hands of the Muggleborn would only weaken the older wizard families.

Minerva was watching him like a hawk and Dumbledore turned away. She had expressed openly her regret about cancelling Roxanne Greengrass' apprenticeship fifteen years ago. And now she was even supporting Potter's friendship with that Greengrass girl. Albus struggled to suppress another deep sigh. That Filius was on the girl's side hadn't been a surprise. She had been one of his favourite students and – after opening the connection to some wizard journals – he had been thrilled to bits every time one of her articles had been published. And Albus had to admit that She's got talent.

More surprising had been Pomona's support in the matter. In the beginning Albus had been able to turn her against the inter-house friendship, but since Greengrass had rescued the Granger-girl from that poisoning attack and saved one of Pomona's dear Puffs from a murder charge at the same moment, Pomona had switched sides. Both girls had – together with their friends – supported Susan Bones afterwards, declared quite openly that they trusted her and believed her story. This conduct had impressed Pomona only the more, her Puff mindset believing loyalty to be the most important trait in a person. Apparently she hadn't been able to realize what he had seen immediately: That it had been a political move to get Amelia Bones in their pocket. A very Slytherin move, he had to admit.

So of all House Heads he had only Snape on his side, but even his Potion Master hadn't been of much help so far. With his reaction after the attack on Greengrass Snape even showed that he couldn't be fully trusted about the Potter-Greengrass-matter. No, he had to find other ways; he had to be more careful and scheming than before.

For a moment Albus followed Snape's amused stare to the Ravenclaw table. There – not far away from that weird Lovegood-girl, a person he regretfully had ignored far too long – the students of Beauxbatons were sitting. One of them was discussing fervently with Fleur Delacour, more than once glaring at Snape. Albus frowned. He had seen the girl before, but had no idea about her name. From her appearance she could be a family member of the Roussevalles, an influential family stemming from Orleans. Not as influential as the Delacours but important enough not to ignore them completely. And if she was a friend of Fleur…

Her father had been excited to hear about his daughter being one of the Champions. Joseph Delacour was a rising star in the French Ministry and Albus had no doubts that he would be able to become the next Minister in a few years. He only needed a bit of additional support and had started to beguile the influential Headmaster of Hogwarts a while ago. When Fleur was chosen as the Champion of Beauxbatons, Joseph had assumed Albus' doing behind the scenes, interpreted it as a kind of supportive action. Albus had neither agreed nor denied the idea but only smiled mysteriously.

Now the Delacours wanted to send their second daughter to Hogwarts next year. He whole-heartedly supported the idea. To have the daughter of the French Minister in his vicinity, in his sphere of influence could only be helpful in the future. He had to think more about it, find a way to use this to his advantage.

Wing beating was in the air. Ah – Albus smiled. One of the owls targeted the young Longbottom. Now he had to wait for his reaction. Hopefully it was as intended.

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Hogwarts – Potion Class Room – 12th of January afternoon

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"What's with him today again?" Neville asked his girlfriend, looking irritated at Professor Snape. It was the first potion lesson after the winter break and he had hoped to have his peace, only to notice the really bad mood of Professor Snape. Since the beginning of the lesson he had been picking on Hermione even more than usual, neither allowing her a second of rest, nor leaving a single gesture uncommented.

Hermione answered only with a shrug, not daring to look at Neville. She felt bad about keeping silent towards him, about not telling him that this belonged to Harry's plan. But Neville – brave and lovely Neville – was far too bad of an actor, wouldn't be able to hide his feelings well enough to continue convincingly. From Fleur she knew that as intended Snape had already sentenced Claire to a detention. So the first step was settled. Now Snape had to execute step two and according to his expression he enjoyed it, enjoyed it perhaps a bit too much.

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"Why does it have to be me?" Hermione asked. "Wouldn't Daphne…"

"No," Snape snapped at her. "Regretfully it has to be you. I trust your abilities to knock her out without inducing real damage. Your skills at Potions are superior to those of Miss Greengrass." Daphne agreed with a smile and a shrug. Hermione knew that potions weren't Daphne's forte; that it had always been her worst subject, but still…

She hesitated. Had Snape just complimented her skills at potions? No, that just had to be a misunderstanding. Snape would never…

"It is bad enough that I have to agree to an accident in my class, I don't intend to add serious injuries to the matter."

Hermione sighed and nodded defeated.

"Cheer up! I won't kill you – this time." Snape even dared to smirk. Hermione grimaced back. Shocked she saw the smallest hint of amusement in the eyes of her 'favourite' teacher.

"You never kill anyone," Daphne commented with a low voice: "No dead, no serious injuries in 15 years of potion teaching. Mother told me about the importance of your heavy-handed way of teaching. You only want to make certain that we listen."

Snape snarled at her: "I certainly don't need your mother's compliments or explanations," but his rage appeared a little empty and forced.

Hermione listened intently. She had never thought about his lessons that way. But yes – with his students in fear there weren't many grave errors, no kidding around like in other subjects that could lead to disastrous results. Perhaps his little speech back in the first year had been justified.

Daphne ignored the snarl and even smiled softly. "She always thought that you're an awful teacher, much better at researching than at teaching. But at least we are safe."

"Explanations," Hermione whispered.

"What?" Snape turned around and tried to stop her with a glare. He already regretted that he ever agreed to speak with these awful girls. No debt was worth to endure this double team.

"I would like more explanations. Not only following a recipe but to understand 'why'. And I know that you're not content with my work, Professor, but… I have no idea what I'm doing wrong. I really try hard to…" Hermione stopped herself from saying something like 'to please you'. Snape certainly didn't want to hear something like that now. His mood was bad enough. At least Harry wasn't with them. Daphne had told him to stay away and Hermione had supported the idea, much to his indignation.

Instead of growling again Snape stayed silent for a moment. There was something in his eyes, something that Hermione was unable to interpret. With a much softer growl than expected he evicted them from his room: "We'll speak about that at another time, Miss Granger. Now let us concentrate on this 'wonderful' plan of yours."

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"It would be a nice change to see you simply doing at least once what I told you," Snape snarled at Hermione after a look at her perfectly prepared ingredients. "But apparently I expect too much. Perhaps extra lessons would save us all from your splendid degree of work. I already have another hopeless case waiting this evening. I expect you to partake in it. Certainly I don't intend to waste more of my time than needed. This evening, Miss Granger, don't forget it."

Annoyed – even more than before – Severus Snape heard a hateful snigger from the group of Slytherin. Turning around he watched a grinning Draco – no surprise there – and an astonishingly calm Daphne. But it was Theodore Nott who started to whisper about the 'know-it-all' not knowing everything. As much as it troubled him, he had to stay calm about this stupid boy. Nott, of all students, had no right to laugh about his best student. Not only had Nott seemingly inherited his father's lack of talent in the art of potion crafting, he was also too impatient and lazy to at least achieve the results of someone like Greengrass or even – he sighed inwardly – Potter.

Yes, he was always picking on the girl, but he had his own reasons. And this silly boy should better shut his face. Until now he hadn't spoken with him about the attack. At least Nott appeared intelligent enough to understand the possible repercussions of another attack. And hopefully the rest of the house would refrain from supporting Nott after the booting out of his two cronies.

"You know, Notti-boy," the one voice started to drawl that Severus Snape expected the least to hear in his class after the last three years and especially didn't expect to hear this way "one only gives extra lessons to someone if one expect them to learn something, else the time would be wasted. With you and your 'marvelous' degree of potion crafting Professor Snape apparently already lost all hope to ever see something more constructive than plum jam emerging from your cauldron. Without Millicent's help you would not even be able to cook water without burning it."

It was completely silent in the class room, only Millicent sniggered quietly. A month ago, when Greengrass defended Longbottom and Granger against his spite, he had been surprised, perhaps even stunned. But to hear Longbottom like this, self-confident and eloquent, prompted him to be thunderstruck. And the boy was right. Bulstrode had always been able to at least partially compensate for her lack of intelligence with sheer stubbornness and diligence. She was the complete opposite to Nott. And Longbottom – the last time he destroyed a cauldron had been a long time ago.

As he thought about it, it became clear to him, that the 'four riders of apocalypse' – as he had silently named the group around Potter for the amount of trouble they caused – had achieved something the 'Golden Trio' had never been able to: They grew together, and they learned from each other. Was it due to the addition of the new members Longbottom and Greengrass or the lack of the old member Weasley? Most probably both.

Nonetheless, he had a reputation to defend. "I would like you to refrain from interpreting my actions and decisions, Mister Longbottom. What I expect and how I waste my time is my decision alone. And now go back to work. We already lost more than enough time with this gibberish."

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Hogwarts – Hospital Wing – 12th of January evening

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They just happened to be there when the accident happened.

It wasn't that Poppy didn't like the visit. She hadn't much to do at the moment. The cases of drunkenness after the welcoming party had left her hospital yesterday morning and no Quidditch game would happen in the next weeks. And she really liked to speak with Daphne about the healing arts. The girl had shown up an hour ago, her new boyfriend in tow. Now Harry was sitting on an empty bed, reading in a Charles Dickens' novel, looking at his girlfriend from time to time with a caring smile.

Daphne had shown Poppy her newest book about rare healing spells, asking questions about her knowledge of them. Especially a few of the 'family spells' had caught her interest: Healing spells cast on a family member or strengthened with the help of one – the mother most of the time – to accelerate the healing process. Yes, she liked to speak with her and the girl's interest seemed to be genuine. But still she felt that something was amiss. Harry's calmness – while far better played than he would have a year ago – was an act. Poppy had more than enough experience with mock diseases to not detect the signs. But just what were they up to?

As the door opened they whirled around, missing the small smile on the healer's face. Apparently the reason of their visit just arrived. With a frown Poppy watched Hermione Granger enter, turmoil and concern on her face quite openly and not all of it faked. She held the door open and allowed Professor Snape to follow her, levitating the body of a girl in the pale blue robe of Beauxbatons at his side.

Please let her be okay, Hermione prayed silently. She was 99% certain that she had done it right, that she had only knocked the girl out with 'accidently' putting the wrong ingredient into her cauldron. With the standing order to leave all healing of the Beauxbatons girls to their potion Mistress Marie Ancuille they had to find a way to enforce an impartial examination through Madam Pomfrey. Harry had – after some other ideas like simply hexing her in the passages of Hogwarts – found this a bit drastic way and to Hermione's surprise Professor Snape had agreed. There had been something in his eyes, something like realization or perhaps remembrance.

And now she was standing there, not really noticing Harry's reassuring arm around her trembling shoulders. What if she was wrong? And all the time Madam Pomfrey was discussing with Professor Snape about calling Mistress Ancuille.

"Please, stop," Hermione pledged with a trembling voice. "Please examine her. Isn't it the same who's doing the examination? We only have to act fast. It's my fault that… please Madam Pomfrey."

With a sigh Poppy turned around and cast a first spell on the girl. "Unconscious, but no concussion – seems more to be a reaction to some of the used ingredients. I don't think that she's really hurt, Miss Granger."

"Shouldn't we better examine her entirely," Daphne asked. "Perhaps she hurt herself when falling down."

With a frown Poppy carefully looked at the girl. Why would she want such a waste of spells? It was clearly visible that the accident hadn't really hurt the girl.

"I agree with Miss Greengrass."

Shocked Poppy stared at Professor Snape. She blinked several times, struggled for an answer. What was happening here? Something involving not only Greengrass and Granger, but now Potter and Severus were taking part too? Severus and Potter working together? Slowly she had a faint suspicion what was happening here.

"Alright" she agreed. "I'll examine her." She would get to the bottom of this.

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"You had no right to examine her."

Misstress Ancuille's shrill voice hurt Poppy's ears and grated on her nerves. The French woman – obviously from an old aristocratic family, with the face and manners of a Renaissance princess – had been badgering her since she entered the carriage to show Madam Maxime the results of her examination. The last night had been long and her patience was thin. She had to find a way to thank the teenagers for this whole 'accident'.

Bruises, contusions mostly in the abdomen, signs of physical abuse, partially more than a year old but partially received in the last weeks. A slight growl slipped through Poppy's compressed lips as she remembered the direst injury. Someone had repeatedly kicked the girl into the side and damaged one of her kidneys. The pain must have been impressive despite the girl's attempts to heal the injury and to suppress the pain with potions. A week longer without medical attention and she would have lost use of the kidney, Poppy was certain.

"She was unconscious and she was in my care at the moment. Should I leave her simply because of some formalities?" She wanted to speak with Madam Maxime about the case, not battle with this harpy. Severus had mentioned her more than once in the last months, and never in a positive way.

"There are Gryffindors with more talent at my art than this porcelain doll," he had derided her. Poppy knew at least one of those Gryffindors. She had been there yesterday, certainly not a coincidence. At least in their private meetings Severus allowed some compliments to slip. Poppy remembered how impressed he had been two years ago, learning about a second year student that had crafted a working Polyjuice potion, something not taught before NEWT classes.

"I'll have a look at these papers," Madam Maxime's calm voice stopped the fight. For a moment Poppy wanted to continue, wanted to press the matter, but a simple look into the French Headmistress' face told her enough. The girl wouldn't find any help here. They knew before, Poppy sighed. It was no surprise, only realization but still it hurt.

With a last nod towards the Headmistress and a glare towards the French teacher Poppy left the carriage and slowly – depressed – walked back to the infirmary. Severus would be waiting for her. Even with the injuries cared for she wouldn't allow the girl to stay unobserved, now that she had awoken. If these injuries were really the result of family abuse as they seemed to be, then the physical healing would only be the first step.

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Shocked Poppy halted her steps as she entered the Hospital wing and noticed Harry sitting beside the French girl. They were speaking in low voices, Harry holding her hand, Snape observing them from afar, a medical file on the table in front of him. Why is he here? Poppy wondered. What are they speaking about? Shouldn't he be in the classes?

She put on her sternest healer face and walked towards the bed, only to be stopped by Severus, the potion master sliding silently through the room and gesturing her not to disturb the teenagers. Quietly he led her away. "He'll be good for her. He knows what happened to her, what she needs now," he explained and after a moment Poppy understood, understood not only what he said but also what he had been reading. She wasn't surprised to recognize the medical file he now offered her: Harry's medical file, the file with all the results she hadn't been allowed to speak about. "You should have told me."

"Would it have changed anything?" Poppy asked him gently, not really angry that he had dared to fetch the file.

Severus frowned, stared at Harry and slowly shook his head after a while. "Perhaps not, he's still Potter's son." But his voice was a bit uncertain – at least that was what Poppy hoped to hear. She followed his eyes. Certainly he didn't look like his father anymore, at least not in the same way as before. Without his spectacles, his hairs combed and his robes of a better quality, his body better cared for and with his new calmness, the changes were impossible to miss. A single look at the boy was enough to convince her that her friends Minerva and Pomona had been right and the Headmaster was wrong: Daphne and Roxanne had been good for him.

"He's Lily's son too."

She expected some kind of explosion but instead he nodded calmly. "How could she do this to him? Petunia I mean," Severus asked. "She hated magic, she hated me, and she was jealous of Lily. But still she loved her, even at the end, even when she tried to avoid her. I was there, you know. I visited her – disillusioned naturally – a few days after Lily's death."

Poppy stared at him. He had never mentioned this visit before. Once he had told her about his promise to protect the boy. It had been a year ago. He had been drunk and disgusted about being forced to endure the presence of Remus Lupin. But even then he hadn't spoken about this.

"Tuney was never a kind lady and her husband is an obvious ass, but at least they seemed determined to 'raise him properly', whatever that means with people like them."

"Perhaps something happened after you left; something that changed their mind."

Severus thoughtfully stared at her for a long time before he nodded: "The question is what happened… or who."