Weeks turned into months. The dead forests in the Highlands shook out their frost and their buds bloomed. The sounds of rushing streams and waterfalls returned and the white sunlight was flecked with gold. Their dragons' breath dissolved and extra blankets were stuffed into the backs of wardrobes. The stone castle was still an ice box, as it often was even in the summer, but the pupils' noses thawed out. Girls were filling out. Ron and Harry had both noticed that almost every girl in their year had been fiddling with something on their shoulders. They'd spent a long lunchtime asking Hermione about this, as she'd been doing it too. As soon as she uttered the word "bras", the trio parted ways and did not say another word to each other for the rest of the day.

Harry's voice was the centre of all jokes in his dormitory. He sounded as though he had a pygmy puff stuck in his throat half the time. As for Ron, his growth spurt was so sudden and so dramatic that the boys were sure someone had jinxed him. The leather jacket from Mrs Potter that he'd worn nearly every weekend since last Christmas was now far too short. He couldn't bend his elbows and the arms did not even reach his wrists. He was forced to hang it up for good.

Things were changing at Hogwarts. It was as though someone had cast a spell on the entire school, like the slumber spell in Sleeping Beauty. Since his talk with his father, Harry was now noticing every change in the people around him. To Harry's surprise, even Ron noticed that Hermione was blowing hot and cold these days. Some days, she'd be her usual bossy, anxious self. Other days, she was a dragon. Breathing fire down their necks at the smallest jokes, snapping at them constantly, eating constantly and once or twice, even crying. She cried once when Ron commented on how much she'd eaten that week. The second time, she cried when she dropped her books. She was mental. Then again, The Patil twins and Lavender Brown were just the same, as were lots of other girls.

Perhaps the biggest change in behaviour around the school was Professor Snape. Since their lesson on the Severing charm before Christmas, he seemed to have a permanent migraine. He kept rubbing his forehead. He didn't shout. He muttered. He set very little homework and sometimes did not even turn up to the lesson. Ron and Harry preferred those rare occasions, but Hermione did not. The Potions Master, Professor Slughorn, took over those lessons and was about as much help as a Hippogriff in a chinaware shop. Harry might've worried about Snape had he not been a complete toss-pot.

One day in April, Snape's curse seemed to be lifted.

"Practical lesson," said Snape upon entering the classroom. Everyone jumped at the volume of his voice. He had not droned. Rather, his orders held conviction. He was ten minutes late and was accompanied by a nervous-looking Professor Flitwick. Ron shot Harry a wary glance.

"Professor Flitwick will be helping me to demonstrate the correct use of the Disarming charm."

Snape sauntered up to the platform at the front of the classroom and turned to face them, his cloak swishing and smothering Flitwick as he did so. He seemed almost alive today.

"Someone tell me what they know of the Disarming charm." His eyes scanned the room. "Longbottom."

Harry looked at Neville from across the row of desks. Neville lifted his head up slowly and gulped. "It... disarms... people?"

Ron sniggered. At the back of the room, Draco Malfoy clapped and more people giggled. Snape stared at Neville, motionless for several seconds. "Anyone else?"

Hermione's hand shot up. "Sir, if used correctly the Disarming charm will cause an opponent's wand to fly out of their hand. If necessary, and with the appropriate strength, the spell can knock an opponent backwards."

Snape did not look at her. He didn't even flinch when she spoke.

"...anyone else?"

"But Sir, I just gave you the answer," said Hermione plainly. Some people gasped. Others, including Ron, looked as though they wanted the ground to swallow them up.

"I could be mistaken, but I'm quite sure that I was accurate. It was a fairly easy question."

Harry and Ron exchanged a bewildered glance. It was so uncharacteristic of Hermione to contradict a teacher. But then again, there was nothing she hated more than being proved wrong... and Snape was a rather intolerable man himself.

Snape still persevered in staring blankly at the back wall, ignoring her completely.

"You know," Harry whispered to Ron. "Dad told me about Snape's nickname at school."

Ron was too uncomfortable to speak, but appeared anticipant anyway.

"Snivellus..."

As soon as he'd said it, he knew Snape had heard him. The students in the row behind Harry had giggled. The room had been too quiet for it not to carry.

Snape slowly rotated on the spot until he was facing Hermione, who gulped.

"Severus..." whispered Flitwick from several feet away. "Are you quite well?" Snape did not appear to listen.

"I ignored your answer, Miss Granger, because I hold no tolerance for students who speak out of turn. You may pride yourself on your abilities to worm your way into the affections of the other teachers by sweating over your school books day and night, but your whiny attempts at gaining favouritism from me will not work."

You could hear a pin drop. Not even Harry or Ron, who'd both grown oddly protective of Hermione these past two years, could only sit there with gaping mouths.

"Professor Snape!"Flitwick squeaked loudly. "Perhaps we should proceed with demonstrating the Disarming Charm!"

"Excellent idea, Professor," said Snape. "Seeing as Miss Granger seems to know more about the Disarming Charm that you do, Flitwick, perhaps it would be prudent if she come up and assist me in my demonstration."

Harry felt a rush of toxic potion course through his veins as Hermione stood up, trembling a little. She gingerly made her way to the platform at the front of the classroom, wand held out in front of her.

"Now, class," began Snape. His casual tone unnerved Harry immensely. His usual cold droning was almost lost entirely... "The incantation for the Disarming Charm is 'expelliarmus'. You say it while pointing your wand at the target like so."

The room froze as Snape pointed his wand at Hermione, who now resembled a deer in the headlights. Ron gasped beside Harry.

"Expelliarmus," said Snape clearly, and Hermione wand shot out of her hand. Everyone jumped as the spell hit.

"Very good, Miss Granger. Well done. How clever. Now, go and retrieve your wand. We're not quite finished with our demonstration yet."

Harry noticed his own shaky breathing and clammy hands. He couldn't imagine what Hermione must've been feeling. Petrified, presumably. And very, very regretful.

"That was how you successfully disarm your opponent," continued Snape once Hermione had resumed her position. "You must remember to point your wand at your target. If you don't, this could happen."

"NO!" roared Harry and Ron together, leaping to their feet.

"EXPELLIARMUS!" exclaimed Snape, pointing his wand directly at Hermione. A jet of red light hit her squarely in the chest and sent her flying backwards, where she hit the stone wall several feet behind her. She slumped to the ground.

Harry, Ron, Flitwick and Neville ran to her aid while other students craned their necks for a better look or cowered in their seats. Hermione was conscious and whimpering.

"Miss Granger?! Are you hurt?!" asked Flitwick.

"My head!" she squeaked. Flitwick reached around to the back of her head. When he pulled his hand away, it was smeared with blood.

"Look what you've done!" yelled Flitwick at Snape, who looked more stony and pale than he'd ever been. "Mr Potter, Mr Weasley, fetch Madam Pomfrey. Mr Thomas, Miss Brown, fetch Professor Dumbledore."

Harry shook with so many emotions. Worry for Hermione, fear of being in the same room as Snape and dread for what Dumbledore was going to say when he saw the state of a second year pupil after being on the receiving end of Snape's wand.

oOo

The day dragged on and on after that. If something less traumatising had happened, Harry and Ron might've been delighted to be exempt from lessons. However, their day became an exhausting timeline of worry and boredom. Hermione was given skele-gro and sleeping draught so that she could sleep through the recuperation of her fractured skull. They faced other brief moments of panic throughout the day. Dumbledore asked to extract their memories of the lesson. It took them roughly ten minutes to convince Ron to comply, promising that not every memory would be seen. Hermione had very few visitors: the Weasley twins, Ginny, Dean, Seamus and Neville twice, each with their own version of virally-spreading rumours. It was the evening that Ron and Harry were dreading more than anything else.

Darkness descended, as per usual in the Scottish Highlands, rather quickly. A skittish first year was sent to collect Harry and Ron and deliver them to Dumbledore's office, where they found their parents, Mr & Mrs Granger, and Cornelius Fudge arranged in a semi-circle around Dumbledore's desk. Harry gulped.

"Hello Harry," said his Mum weakly, looking tired and worn. His father stood with his arm round her shoulders, looking grave. Ron's mother seized him into a hug as soon as he was in the room. Alice was there too, hiding behind James and peering curiously round the room.

"Good evening Harry, Ron," smiled Dumbledore, closing the office door behind them and striding up to the congregation of adults. "I've explained to your parents exactly what happened earlier. Unfortunately for you, Harry, I was forced under school policy to show your memory to your mother in the pensieve."

Harry's eyebrows furrowed. He looked round at the silent adults.

"So?"

He saw his mother glance disapprovingly at his solemn father, and after a few minutes made the connection.

"Are you angry at me?" Harry asked quietly.

His mother closed her eyes. "No, I'm not angry at you, darling. I just... wish you hadn't said it."

Harry bowed his head. There was nothing worse than feeling genuinely guilty, and then being deprived of a scolding from your mother. It was as though he'd defeated her, and that was a horrid feeling.

The door to Dumbledore's office opened and Mr Granger audibly growled.

Harry and Ron spun round to find Professor Snape standing at the door with an alarmingly grey pallor.

"You've got some nerve, showing your face in here!" James snarled. Snape swallowed thickly and avoided his gaze.

"I invited him here this evening, James," explained Dumbledore. "Let's not cause any more conflict today. I think we've had enough of that, considering the company we are in at this moment."

James reached behind him to stroke his daughter's hair. She had cowered away from the potential gaze of the teacher she'd heard so much about.

"You asked to see me, Headmaster," said Snape slowly. Dumbledore nodded, looking down at the floor. Then, Cornelius Fudge stepped forward and clasped his hands together. He resembled a Shakespearian Actor in his gearing up for a speech.

"I don't want to have to do this to you, Severus. Particularly not in front of such a large audience," Fudge gestured to the glaring adults and three children in the room. "But I think these good people have a right to bear witness to justice being instilled when it comes to the safety of their children. Given the circumstances, I don't see as though you're in any position to contradict me."

"of course not, Minister."

Harry shuffled closer to Ron. He'd heard the rumours, but had no idea what was coming.

"Severus, I have no choice but to officially suspend you from your teaching post for a minimum of twelve months."

Blood began to pound in Harry's ears. He didn't know what to feel. They would be free of Snape for a whole year. But this man, who'd already began to crumble, was now going to ruin. He'd come back a different person. Maybe he wouldn't come back at all. The idea filled him with both elation and crushing guilt.

"That is your conclusion?" asked Snape after a painfully long silence.

Fudge's eyes bulged. "Of course it's my bloody conclusion!"

"Cornelius," muttered Dumbledore, shooting glances at the two boys.

Fudge exhaled loudly. "Severus, it is generous of me to permit you to return to Hogwarts at all. Your actions were... were..."

"Despicable," Mr Granger finished for him. Everyone turned to look at him. He bore an uncanny resemblance to a provoked pit-bull. Nothing like the quivering antelope he usually was.

"I understand," said Snape coolly.

"Do you?!" Mr Granger spat. He swooped towards Snape until they were practically nose-to-nose. "That was my little girl that you attacked. I may not understand magic, or sorcery, or potions, or flying, or anything of the sort, but you and I are both human. There are evil people in both of our worlds and you, Sir, are a disgrace!"

Silence. The room stared at him as though he were an atomic bomb. He blushed as he slowly backed away from him and exited the room through the door, which he slammed behind him.

"Have you nothing to say?" Fudge asked Snape when nobody spoke.

Snape did not look worried or remotely moved. He merely looked tired. "My actions were... regrettable," he droned, eliciting a snort from James. "... and I shall leave obligingly. I suppose... that it would be in poor taste for me to say that I was provoked-"

"You wretched man!" bellowed James, stepping forward. Lily grabbed his arm. It was then that Harry noticed his mother was crying.

"We will not dismiss your claims, Severus," said Dumbledore, who had remained quiet from behind his desk all this time. "I will be sorry to see you go. I know you will return in a year as a changed man."

Dumbledore received astonished looks from all the parents except for Lily, whose watery eyes were fixed on Snape's.

"I do not doubt that, Headmaster," said Snape. He turned quickly and opened the office door. Before he left, he turned back and glanced inexplicably at Lily, who looked ready to run after him. He left before anyone else could speak.

"Well, I daresay that was an insight!" said Mr Weasley, speaking for the first time. Nobody paid him much attention.

"Mum..." whispered Harry, sidling up to her. She looked at him sadly and put an arm round him.

"Mum, I'm really sorry."

"It's alright, darling. This is just... one of those things."

"Excuse me?" gasped Jean Granger, silencing the murmured conversations that had bubbled momentarily between groups. She looked a little older than before and slightly less glamorous. She was not wrapped in furs or sparking with jewels. She still managed to eclipse the other women in the room with her model-perfect physique. "What did you just say?"

It was not that Lily's unprecedented quick-wit failed her, it was merely that Lily could not be bothered to argue with this woman. Her eyelids drooped.

"One of those things, is it? Just another daily occurrence? My daughter was attacked by a teacher, Mrs Potter!"

"I know, I know, I was just saying-"

"Such things might happen frequently in your world, Mrs Potter, but they are a serious offence in mine. If my daughter is in danger here at the school, I have half a mind to-"

"Oh, give it a rest!" Lily said suddenly. James looked extremely uncomfortable with an arm still around his wife. Alice shuffled away from him towards Mrs Weasley, who was watching with deep curiosity.

"I beg your pardon?!" Mrs Granger hissed.

"You couldn't give a flying toss about your daughter! If you did, you'd be on your way back to the hospital wing by now!"

Harry backed away from his mother as Mrs Granger turned a nasty shade of purple.

"You have no idea what it's like to find out that you're daughter's a..."

Lily started to visibly shake.

"...and you," said Jean, pointing at a startled Cornelius Fudge. "was it your genius idea to ban muggles from entering Diagon Alley?!"

The room gasped.

"What is she talking about, Minister?" demanded Lily.

"This morning..." continued Jean. "when we found out about the attack, my husband tried to get to Diagon Alley to buy some... I don't know, some magic potion for her wounds. And low and behold, what does he find? A notice, decreeing the prohibition of muggles in public places of wizarding property."

"No..." gasped Mr Weasley, a hand pressed theatrically to his chest.

Fudge stepped down from the raised platform towards Jean. "The Ministry is a democracy, Mrs Granger. One of my heads of department put the suggestion to vote and it was almost unanimous. I'm sorry, but that's just the way things are."

Jean swiftly spun round and made her way towards the door. Before she left, she glared furiously at the group. "You people are prejudice and cruel. Like my husband said, we are all human!"

"Indeed..." mused Fudge. "You forget that the reason our people are so few in number is because muggles burned us in our thousands years ago. And now, we are talked of only in horror stories or children's jokes. You have the nerve to call us prejudice, when you shun us from your society and then deny our existence."

Jean stormed out, slamming the door behind her. She left behind a thick, settling feeling of ominous change. Gone was the ministry's strong stand on muggle-wizard integration. Fudge had spoken of them as though they were feral, dangerous tribes. It made Harry shiver.

"So Snape comes back when we're in fourth year," whispered Ron to Harry. "We'll be taller than him by then. Stronger, like. We could take him. Any trouble, we'll just deck him. I ain't scared of him."

Harry was barely conscious of Ron's ramble, though later he did acknowledge the advantages they'd have over Snape upon his return. The group would depart with lots to contemplate. Their own behaviour for one thing, the unnerving changes in treatment of muggles by Fudge for another, and finally the potential damage this unfortunate episode might make to Snape.

oOo

A/N: I didn't mean for this to be so long. But.. oh well.

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Thanks to all you followers/favouriteaurs/ reviewers. Means a lot. Will update shortly,

Nel X