Author's Notes: Harry gets to meet his great-aunt!

Harry woke with a great breath of air. The sun was already up and the birds were chirping loudly outside.

The clock said it was nine o'clock. Harry had missed breakfast.

Shrugging he dropped to the floor and did stretches. Feeling his legs loosen up, Harry did ten sets of ten leg-lifts, twenty sit-ups, followed by fifteen push-ups and twenty pike jacks. By the end of it, he was sweaty and extremely thirsty. After he drank some water, he finished the remaining stretches his guardian had instructed that he do each day.

Feeling only somewhat sore, he quickly cleaned himself, dressed, and drank several more glasses of water. Clomping down the stairs, he pushed open the heavy door to the sitting room. He recoiled when a large vulture was in his way. It was a dead vulture, perched on top of a witch's hat. An old, wrinkly-faced woman with sharp green eyes and a hooked nose, glared at Harry. Her black feather boa looked completely out of place with her otherwise tight-fitting dark green robes with taffeta at the shoulders.

Snape was seated in the armchair that had lumpy cushioning in front of the only window with a cup of tea on the small rickety table next to him. Harry looked about, not seeing any presents, but not really minding either with a guest in their midst.

"It is in everyone's best interest," the formidable-looking, old woman continued without greeting Harry or introducing herself, her voice gravelly and tough. "He has been isolated long enough."

"Excuse me," Harry began.

"Children do not speak while adults are talking, dear," the woman snapped at him.

Mouth shutting, Harry frowned as he tried to place who she was.

"Harry, this is my grandmother, Augusta Longbottom, Matriarch of the Longbottom family," Snape said dryly.

Harry bowed slightly as courtesy dictated. "Hello, Mrs. Longbottom." Now, go away, He urged silently. Mrs. Longbottom's hands had fingerless fishnet stocking gloves on and she was carrying a rather ugly handbag made of some sort of bright red snakeskin.

"Repels thieves and burglars, dear," Mrs. Longbottom said condescendingly to Harry as if he had asked her out loud.

Harry looked at her curiously. What did that matter if you had to lug around something so hideous? What was the reason for the vulture then? Did that ward off would-be attackers?

Mrs. Longbottom smacked her lips as if she wanted to give Harry a piece of her mind for glaring at her. "No, no, this won't do at all." The woman looked at him without any sort of warmth. "Harry, be a dear, and fetch a cloak. We're leaving."

Harry said loudly as if she were deaf, "Why? You aren't my legal guardian. Doesn't seem very smart to do what you say just because you said to, does it?" After all, she had to have turned down the initial offer to be Harry's guardian for Snape to have gained custody of him.

"I will hex your mouth shut, boy, if you continue with your cheek!" She looked particularly livid.

Harry blinked at the déjà vu the statement gave him. Then he frowned at his guardian. You're not really going to let her take me? Harry thought, making his expression as desperate as possible.

Harry's great-aunt tsked very loudly. "Completely open. You've neglected to teach him the most fundamental Occlumency. I would have expected better guidance from someone with talents like yours."

"What's Occlumency?"

Mrs. Longbottom looked at Harry like he was a bug that had just dropped into the frosting of her very expensive cake. "Haven't told him?" She said sharply at Snape, who took a calm sip of his tea.

"A rather necessary precaution due to his sustained mistreatment from the Dursleys," Snape drawled, as if their standoff didn't matter to him.

"Told me what?" Harry asked Snape with a polite tone.

"He has been peering into your feelings and memories whenever he so desires," Mrs. Longbottom said waspishly.

Harry's stomach dropped. "What?" He couldn't believe that no one had told him that this ability existed or that he hadn't discovered a word of it in any of the books he'd read.

The grandfather clock chimed half past eleven.

"Hungry, Grandmother?" Snape inquired with an odd amiable tone, while Harry grappled with his newfound knowledge.

"Naturally as it's nearly noon," Mrs. Longbottom said sharply.

"Lunch will be ready precisely then," Snape said. "Shall we retire to the eating parlor?"

"Yes, please." Her expression was extremely puckered, but for the moment she no longer paid any attention to Harry.

Harry grimaced. Wait, why would he believe her? She was the very same woman who hadn't stopped Nanua from punishing herself. Certainly, Harry had suspected many times over the past two years of Snape being a mind-reader but—

"A Muggle mind-reader and a Legilimens are completely different things, dear," the old witch told Harry as she passed by him into a narrow sort of passageway, which used to be the cramped kitchen.

Following after Snape's thin frame, Harry gawped at his surroundings. The dining room was no longer squarish, but a majestic, long spacious room. There were two chandeliers hanging down the middle, throwing bright light in the normally dimly lit room. The décor was old-fashioned and stuffy and there was even a fireplace at one end. Number thirty-seven at Spinner's End didn't even have a chimney, so where was all the smoke going…? Harry shook his head at himself. Of course it was magic. There had to be enchantments within the fireplace which attracted and vanished the smoke.

In the center of the room was a grandiose twenty-person table with several centerpieces. It was set with the prettiest china Harry had ever laid eyes on and nine pieces of silverware per plate. There were four different forks and three different spoons… In front of the bowl-like plates that sat on top of flatter plates were three crystal goblets. One was fluted, one looked like a wine glass, and the other was bulbous filled to the brim with ice and water.

Snape pulled a chair out for Mrs. Longbottom before taking a seat.

Harry almost refused to sit down on principle. After Snape's pointed look, Harry sat beside him and stared at the extra utensils he thought were entirely unnecessary.

"This is a ten course meal. Use the outermost utensils and let them get taken with any uneaten food," Snape said quietly.

Harry nodded stiffly and then frowned. But there were nine utensils.

"Two of the dishes are to be eaten with fingers," Snape elaborated as if the thought had just occurred to him and not from Harry.

Harry narrowed his eyes at his guardian, who didn't seem at all bothered to be reading his mind, or whatever a Legilimens did.

At that instant, food was suddenly on Harry's plate. Two small hen legs battered and fried were propped up in the center of his plate.

"Fork," Snape said curtly.

Harry had to hold down the end of the bone to spear the very moist meat off. He hungrily shoved it into his mouth.

"The danger to yourself is even greater now that the he's escaped from Azkaban," Augusta Longbottom said with a curdled tone as if she didn't care about Snape's well-being in the slightest.

After taking a sip of his full wine glass, Snape answered, "I hardly think he is capable of much more than eluding the authorities."

"But I thought it was impossible to escape from Azkaban…?" Harry blurted out. There were many Death Eaters and supporters of Voldemort who had been placed in Azkaban, the Wizard's equivalent of jail, and if any of them had escaped Harry was sure to be in danger.

They both looked at him shrewdly. Their familial likeness was impossible to ignore with their hawkish noses and wide foreheads.

"Haven't warned him yet?" Mrs. Longbottom said deliberately to Snape, who appeared as if he hadn't heard her.

Harry's nerves were extremely unsettled. He put down his fork, dropping his hands to his lap. "Who's escaped?"

Snape did not look as if he wanted to tell him as anger clenched his jaw.

"Sirius Black," the old woman said.

"My godfather?" Harry sat on his hands to banish their sudden iciness. "You don't think that… that he'll try to kidnap me?"

"At least, the boy has a healthy sense of self-preservation," Mrs. Longbottom said after placing her fork onto her plate. The food vanished.

"Apparently so," Snape's expression was unreadable. Harry remembered that Snape had promised to drill that sense into him until it stuck. Harry thought his guardian must be secretly pleased about that.

Harry looked down at Snape's plate and noticed it was empty as well. He hurriedly placed his fork on his plate. Once it had vanished, more food appeared on each of their plates.

"Fingers," came the curt reply to Harry's unspoken question.

"There have been sightings in Ottery St. Catchpole," Mrs. Longbottom continued.

"I was unaware of any personal vendettas against the Weasleys… barring Lucius Malfoy's one-man crusade," Snape stated.

"But, the Weasleys are in Egypt," Harry said, nibbling on the dry, stick-like vegetable stuffed with something creamy inside of it. Harry thought it was better not to ask after its components.

"Yes, quite serendipitous for them," his guardian responded.

Harry was going to have to look that word up. He thought it meant lucky, but wasn't sure.

"Aside from your pitiful earnings, there are many more reasons to accept my settlement in court. The most obvious being You-Know-Who's return. You can't honestly expect to deny him when he asks for the boy given that you wear his brand on your left forearm?"

Harry looked up at the mention of a brand and gazed at his guardian curiously. When Snape's lips had thinned into a line, Harry knew better than to ask.

"Stubborn fool," Mrs. Longbottom whispered.

Harry didn't like it when anybody insulted Professor Snape or brought up his past allegiances. He glared at her. Why did Snape's grandmother think it was a good idea to wear that hideous-looking hat?

"My patience is fast leaving with your continued disrespect, dear." Mrs. Longbottom's steel green eyes turned to Harry. "I wonder… Did you goad your Muggle relatives into mistreating you as well?"

Harry's face twisted. "If by goading you mean existing, then yes, I suppose I am at fault," he said through clenched teeth. He hardly wanted to remember how the smallest oddity had always been noticed straight away and punished. Or how he spent hours and hours standing on the little crate they'd left inside for a desk to stare out the vent in the cupboard door while the Muggles ate or watched the telly. Even when they shut the vent, it hadn't been impossible to reopen it with several toothpicks used as levers, and Harry hated being in the dark.

"I have read the court proceedings," Mrs. Longbottom said in a bored tone as she picked up a soup spoon to begin her next course. "They started their punishments when you were three, an extraordinary age to be using accidental magic. Little wonder that Headmaster Dumbledore went through so much trouble to fetch you, if you'd been on their acceptance rolls for eight years."

Along with his fingers, Harry's toes were growing cold from the sudden change in topic. He decided the creamy green pea soup was more interesting to stare at after he'd placed his soup spoon into it. He forced himself to appear small and browbeaten; he thought that anything else might spur the nasty woman on.

"Curious," she said. Harry could feel her eyes on him. It was the same feeling he had from Snape on occasion. Harry had a niggling thought that perhaps this was how one could sense when someone was doing that Legilimens-thing.

Snape continued to eat, as if oblivious to Harry's problem.

Well, Harry thought to himself, if there's a curse, there's always a counter-curse. With a look of concentration, he imagined he was inside his cupboard, locked tight and vent closed. The tickling sensation faded as if it were some far-off thing that didn't concern Harry.

Snape's spoon clattered on his bowl's rim.

Harry's head jerked up to see his guardian carefully wiping his fingers on the cloth napkin. The spoon was lying at an angle on the tablecloth. Little green splotches decorated the once-pristine white surface.

"Yes. Certainly has raw potential, hasn't he?" Mrs. Longbottom said evenly with her irregular voice. Harry absolutely hated feeling invisible as the adults talked about him while he was in the same room.

Snape picked the utensil up and placed it into his bowl. Their soup course vanished and an unusual-looking salad appeared. "Indeed he has the raw potential for attracting danger."

"All the more reason to allow me to mold his abilities," Snape's grandmother continued. "I know many respectable and talented tutors who would duel one another at the possibility of having a hand in Harry Potter's formal education."

"Stop talking like I'm not here," Harry said abruptly, meeting her eyes. He wished she would leave so he could go open his presents.

His cupboard was blown apart, and a memory of a horrible Christmas drew up in Harry's mind. He was powerless to stop the flashback.

…Harry at six years old knew better than to open his present from porky Aunt Marge as she always gave him something terrible. And yet the horrid woman would cane him if he didn't. Even now, she was smiling too nicely.

Harry hoped there weren't mouse traps inside the box like last year. He slowly took the wrapping and twine off the box and opened it. Inside were dog biscuits. He lifted the bone-shaped biscuit and looked up at his Aunt Marge, who was laughing uproariously at his hurt expression. Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon were laughing with wide-eyed expressions; Harry hadn't realized it then but he saw that they were terrified.

Then young Dudley patted a leg and whistled. "Harry, come here, Harry!" He taunted.

No, a small voice in the back of Harry's mind said. He knew what was going to happen, but it felt like it was happening to someone else.

Harry's small hand wrapped tightly around the treat. He wanted nothing else but for them to stop. The talking telly behind him exploded in a burst of sparks and smoke; every light bulb in the house shattered with a distinct POP; Someone was shrieking: Aunt Petunia. In the darkness, Dudley's brand-new robot with flashy lights crumpled as if something large had hit it and then was torn apart limb-by-limb.

I didn't do it on purpose… The voice begged weakly.

"It's alright. It's alright," Aunt Marge's voice boomed in the darkness. She yanked open the curtains covering the windows, and weak winter sunlight poured in. "We must have experienced an electrical surge." She turned to see the robot she'd given to Dudley, now dismembered, and narrowed her eyes at Harry. He backed guiltily away from her, his icy fingers dropping the dog biscuit on Aunt Petunia's pristine carpet.

"You ungrateful little bastard!" She spat out, grabbing her cane.

It was a nightmare, Harry decided. And he desperately needed to wake up, but he was already awake. Someone was in his mind forcing him to relive this memory. Stop it! He screamed, trying to wrangle free of the old woman's magic.

Crying out, Harry ran straight for his cupboard and dove in, squeezing under the bottom-most steps where Aunt Marge couldn't touch him but Ripper—

"STOP!" Harry yelled, wrenching his eyes from her. He no longer had any appetite at all. Hurriedly, he wiped his tear-streaked face. He would have excused himself from the room, except that he didn't trust his legs to carry him after the terror of that particular memory. He had thought he'd forgotten that awful Christmas.

"Your terrible attempt at Occlumency was hardly—"

"You will leave," Snape snarled at his grandmother, "Now."

They stared at each other. Sensing magic in the air, Harry shuddered and kept his eyes firmly on the green stains dotting the tablecloth.

Augusta Longbottom slammed her feet down and shoved the chair back, the legs shrieking across the floor until the chair crashed into the wall behind her. "He must be trained. You-Know-Who will rise again and when that occurs, Harry must be ready to face him…" Adjusting her hat, the old witch scooped up her bag and stormed out of the room. A few moments later, the front door slammed shut with a BANG.

Shrinking in on himself, Harry suddenly felt very bad about this. After all, if it wasn't for him—

"You are not responsible for Augusta's actions," Snape countered angrily.

Harry certainly didn't feel that way. He looked up at his guardian, conflicted. "Am I going to have to live with her?"

"Yes," Snape stated simply, composed once more. "Her case is solid, as is her reasoning. With current events as they are, you will be considered far safer in the custody of a neutral party."

"I'm sorry," Harry said quietly.

Snape sighed nearly imperceptibly and then took Harry's innermost fork, placing it across Harry's untouched plate of food. Immediately the food disappeared, replaced by treacle pudding. "Eat."

Harry took up his spoon and ate a little of the pudding. Once the treacle pudding touched Harry's tongue and melted in his mouth, he ate it voraciously, his appetite coming in full force.

His guardian left his own dish of pudding untouched and picked up the second to last spoon. He crossed it over the bowl of pudding, which immediately vanished. A type of minced meat appeared on his plate and he began eating quietly while Harry devoured his pudding. When the pudding was gone, Harry's plate filled with steak and mash.

Deciding it was now or never, Harry took the permission slip out and put it in front of Snape. "…This needs to be signed before I get back to Hogwarts…"

Snape's lips puckered, making him look like he had eaten a particularly tart lemon drop.

"No?" Harry said after seeing that expression; his eyes flicked down to the faded sheet of parchment and then back to Snape, who stared at him with the faintest whiff of discomfort. "…It's not safe with Sirius Black on the run, is it?" Harry had been looking forward to visiting Hogsmeade with his friends.

Without another word, Snape rose and left the room. Harry took his response to mean that his deduction was correct. Stirring his mash with his butter knife, Harry sighed through a sniffle. He'd already spent nearly all summer holed up at Spinner's End… If Snape hadn't taken him camping to show him basic wilderness skills for a month, Harry would have run away just to get a breath of fresh air. Now he'd have to spend the whole school year inside Hogwarts... Would he even be allowed on the Quidditch pitch?

Half an hour later, Snape walked into the dining room with a black owl feather on his shoulder. "We are going to Hogsmeade," he stated to Harry in the irritated tone his guardian generally reserved for Potions students. "Are you finished? Or would you prefer to sulk more?"

Harry pushed himself up and put the remaining utensils on the plate. "I'm done," he said sullenly, gathering up the permission slip. He wondered if he could fake Snape's signature… and thought better of it when he heard his guardian snort behind him. It was an absolutely stupid idea considering that his guardian was also the Potions Master and Potions Professor of Hogwarts and would be able to tell the Deputy Mistress that his signature was a forgery on the spot.

"When you are ready, we will Apparate from the garden. Unless you would like to wear your Muggle clothes again," Snape suggested dryly.

"I'd rather not stick out. Once was enough." Harry adjusted his daily-wear robes and pinched lint off the front of them. They were a shade lighter than black, which the witch selling the second-hand robes thought was a shame. She'd suggested green to complement his eyes. Harry had thought that was ridiculous. Green would make him more noticeable in a crowd.

"Very well," Snape led the way to the backdoor.

Dobby, Harry's queerly dressed house-elf, popped into the room as soon as Snape stepped out. For some reason, Dobby was terrified of Harry's guardian. "Master Harry! Nanua told Dobby of how terribly ill Master Harry is after Apparating!" The small creature with big green eyes proclaimed loudly, holding out a vial.

Harry took it and drank the anti-nausea potion. "Thank you, Dobby." He set the empty vial on the table.

The house-elf clasped his hands behind him, stood on his tiptoes, and thrust his Christmas jumper-clad chest out despite it being the last day of July. "Always a pleasure, Master Harry! Always a pleasure!" He squeaked happily.

Smiling, Harry stepped out after his guardian. Snape Apparated them to the same spot in Hogsmede that they had Apparated to the year prior. Only the tipmost part of the black feather's quill had remained on Snape's shoulder. Harry wondered where the rest had gone. Had it simply been left behind?

Distracted by the silence around him, Harry looked around curiously. He saw that the road was less full than last year and the magical folk around them were looking at them with suspicion. There were loads of Wanted Posters plastered on the storefronts. A starved man with wild black hair looked half-crazed, wearing black-and-white striped robes. In his hands in front of him was a sign of weird symbols and a random set of numbers. It was Sirius Black and he was laughing, or screaming—Harry couldn't quite tell. Harry stared at the moving picture, burning the image into his mind. Even if the man might try to snatch him while Polyjuiced, Harry thought it was more likely they'd meet face-to-face due to the difficulty of procuring the ingredients for a Restricted potion.

Out of the corner of his eye, a great black owl swooped down, dropped a letter for Snape, and then flapped away.

"Is that your owl, sir?" Harry asked.

"Yes." His guardian quickly opened the letter and read it. Snape flicked the letter away from him and it burst into flames. Harry wondered what had been written on it.

"What's your owl's name?" Harry asked, deciding not to ask after what message his guardian had received, as they walked down the unpaved street.

"Holmes," Snape replied.

"As in, Sherlock Holmes?" Harry asked curiously. "I didn't know you read anything other than potions-related materials."

"Young children are not given potion manuals to read from," Snape answered briskly.

As they passed the stores, Harry checked out the storefronts with their wares on display. They passed a store with Enchanted cookery, one selling items dealing with photography, another selling Magical pets, a bookstore and coffee shop.

Then Harry heard someone clomping down the street. He blinked looking up. Someone tall and blond was running down the path towards them.

Harry's mouth split into a grin when he recognized who it was. "Draco! What're you doing here?" Then Harry immediately looked around for Draco's father, Lucius Malfoy, expecting to see him.

"Hello, Harry, Professor Snape," his year-mate said, nodding towards his godfather politely. He stood slightly taller than eye-to-eye with Harry instead of towering over him as he had last year. Draco took one look at Harry and exclaimed, "What ghastly robes you're wearing!"

"Nice to see you too, Draco," Harry said wryly. "These are my throwaway robes."

Draco looked quite affronted by the news. "Why would you go around in public on your birthday with those on?"

"Because I can and I don't care what others think. Now come on. I want to go to the Three Hoops. The Firebolt might be out!"

Silently, Snape followed behind them.

"Oh, I read about that model," Draco said a bit snidely. "It's supposed to be rather unreliable to handle."

"But it's got the best stats of the broomsticks currently on market, a hundred-fifty miles an hour for top speed…!" Harry looked about. "By the way, where's your dad?" He couldn't let his guard down just in case Draco's father tried to attack him as he had last year.

"Him? He's busy," Draco said dismissively.

"Did you come here to shop?"

Draco gave him a very long look.

Harry knew that look. Draco was wondering if he was an idiot. "What?"

"My father isn't here, and I'm not here to shop."

"Well, then, how'd you get here without magic?"

"I took the Knight Bus to get here." At the blank look on Harry's face, Draco sighed dramatically. "It's cheap Emergency Transport for Witches and Wizards; I had one of my servants give the signal since even one little Lumos isn't allowed. It was the fastest way to leave Malfoy Manor without dirtying up my robes. As to my father, I'm sure he'll be furious when he finds out I've gone."

"How did you know I'd be—" Harry stopped and then glanced over his shoulder at his guardian, remembering the black owl feather on his shoulder. "That's what you were doing. You were inviting everyone to come to Hogsmeade for my birthday."

"It would have been far more polite and prudent to have sent an invite weeks ago to ensure all parties had the chance to clear their schedule. However, you seem to have little capacity for expressing your wishes in a timely fashion."

Draco rolled his eyes, a habit he'd acquired from Harry. "Indubitably."

Harry flattened his lips together when he didn't know what 'indubitably' meant. "I didn't realize he was going to refuse to sign my Hogsmeade permission slip," Harry told the prat.

"You weren't even aware of such a thing until Owl Post this morning," Snape refuted.

Draco laughed when Harry huffed loudly. "Stop laughing!" Harry said, "Or I'll tell you to go home, you git."

"I've missed your company as well, Harry," his year-mate said warmly.

They passed by an empty lot, situated next to Three Hoops.

Harry stopped, frowning. "I could have sworn there was a shop here…" It took Harry only a brief moment to remember the name since it was Quidditch-related. "The Beater, it was called."

A surprised chortle sounded from Draco. He turned an excited grin to Harry. "Really? What did it look like?"

"It is not a shop meant for children's eyes," Harry's guardian stated with a vexed tone, interrupting Harry's answer.

Harry shot his guardian a puzzled look. "It was just a leatherworking shop…" Draco let out a laugh which then continued for longer than Harry thought was necessary. With another huff, Harry shifted his feet. "If it wasn't, then what—"

"Oh, look, brooms," Snape said, his tone devoid of any joy or pleasure as he nodded towards Three Hoops. An older man's laugh barked across the space where The Beater was supposed to be. Harry shot a confused look towards the grassy lot.

Snape firmly shoved both of them towards the Quidditch shop. "Enough lollygagging." Neither of them fought the Potions Master on it as they had wanted to go there anyway.

Once they stood in front of Three Hoops, Harry was sad to see that the Nimbus Two Thousand and One was on display. "I thought the Firebolt would be out this year…"

"It's on sale a week before school's in session. Pity, that you'll miss seeing it in person," Draco said after reading the sign in the shop window.

"Doubt I'll be able to go shopping for myself at Diagon Alley," Harry agreed sourly and then turned when he sensed something peculiar. His hand dropped to his wand in its holster. Harry wasn't sure what it was. The fact he sensed anything was very unusual for him, since Harry often ran headlong into danger without realizing it even after being drilled for a month in a forest filled with Magical flora and fauna; his gut instinct seemed mainly reactive rather than proactive to danger.

Without question his guardian turned as well, his wand up as he scanned the deserted street behind them. His expression was neutral and alert.

"What is it?" Draco also pulled out his wand after he turned to see them both ready for an attack.

Harry squinted looking for whatever he sensed. Whatever it was didn't feel bad, but Harry took no chances. "I don't know… I have this odd feeling." His eyes set upon something black standing in a narrow dark alley between two gift shops across from them. "I think something might be in the alleyway right over there…" He pointed with his wand. If only it would move so that he'd know if he was just imagining—

Suddenly a large black dog jumped out, rushing towards Snape with enraged snarling.

Without incantation, Snape waved his wand and a red jet of light flung out, missing the fearsome dog by a hair. He waved it again, and a glowing field surrounded the three of them. The scrawny black beast easily as big as Fang stopped short. Despite not touching the barrier, several hairs were smoking while it snapped its jaws furiously, while it paced around them once. It soon gave up and loped lazily to another dark alleyway, disappearing into the shadows.

Harry let out a breath he hadn't known he'd been holding.

"Merlin, was that a Grim?" Draco asked quietly.

Harry's mind raced. That name… he recognized it from a particularly dark and spooky Magical Fairy Tale. Harry was trying to recall what a Grim was and then realized that the Bewitched watch around his arm never once felt cold against his skin at the appearance of the black, shaggy-haired beast. The Muggle watch was enchanted to go cold in the presence of Dark creatures, and it hadn't with the beast.

"Come here," Snape said sharply. His wand disappeared into the folds of his robes, and he placed a hand on each of their arms. Harry felt as if he were twisting and then he was being pressed on all sides once again.

They were back at Spinner's End surrounded by tall hedges. Harry stumbled feeling very sick.

"Get inside," Snape ordered crisply, wand out as he scanned the area.

Draco yanked Harry's arm towards the open door. Harry lurched inside. He glared up at his friend. "Why aren't you sick?"

Inspecting his nails, Draco said loftily, "My father has Apparated me from place to place ever since I learned to stand."

Harry already had a low opinion of Lucius Malfoy because of his mistreatment of Dobby, but to make a young child do Side-Along Apparation repeatedly seemed terribly worse to Harry's sensibilities.

"Back so soon, Master Harry?" Dobby said with his reedy voice. The house-elf was still wearing one of Harry's ratty old jumpers that hung to the little creature's knees, a winter hat and a single sock with a hole in the toe on his right foot, the very same that had once belonged to Harry.

Harry took the potion offered and drank it quickly. "Thanks—"

"Dobby! You have to go back to my father!" Draco lunged for the tiny house-elf.

With a squeak, Dobby disappeared with the noise of a whip-crack.

Harry glared at Draco. "What was that for?"

"If Dobby returned, my father would forgive the grudge he has against you," Draco said calmly, but Harry knew that couldn't be the only reason.

"I don't care about your dad's grudge," Harry said crossly. "I won't send him back to be abused."

"Better him than me," Draco muttered darkly.

Harry blinked and looked at Draco, who had turned away from him. "Draco, what do you mean?"

The uncomfortable silence was interrupted by another house-elf, this one much older than Dobby with giant blue eyes instead of green. Nanua wore a translucent, multi-colored scarf around her shoulders and preferred nicer clothes than Dobby, "Hello Master Draco, Master Harry," Nanua said. "Birthday outing not to your liking?"

"Something attacked us, Nanua," Harry said by way of explanation. He continued to look towards Draco questioningly who so far avoided looking at him.

"Would Master Harry and Master Draco like some tea and crumpets?" The wizened house-elf gestured towards the sitting room.

Draco murmured, "Yes, that sounds—"

"You are going straight home," Harry's guardian interrupted Draco, who noisily sighed. Snape had only just stepped into the house.

"But I haven't even wished Harry a happy birthday!" At the flat stare from his godfather, Draco with a look of annoyance immediately turned to Harry. "Happy Birthday. I will, of course, be happy to attend your birthday party and have picked out the perfect gift for you."

"Birthday party?" Harry said curiously.

Draco narrowed his eyes. "Speaking of gifts…" Grey eyes looked at Harry from top to bottom. "Why aren't you wearing the Spellfast Cloak I gave you Christmas last year?"

"I haven't locked spells onto it yet," Harry said nervously, noticing that his guardian shot a peculiar look at him.

"Enough chitchat," Snape said gruffly and then directed at Harry. "You will stay inside."

"Yes, sir," Harry groused.

Looking most unwilling, Draco followed Snape back outside. With a CRACK, Harry knew they had Apparated away.

"Is he gone, Master Harry?" A shrill voice asked in a whisper.

"Yes, Dobby. All clear."

The young house-elf let out a shriek of joy and then stepped closer with a furtive smile. "Dobby has sorted Master Harry's broom and cloak closet!" The house-elf snapped his knobby fingers, and the door popped open. Dobby washed his hands in excitement.

Harry took a few steps to check it out and saw that the closet had been Extended and everything contained within was neatly in its place, no longer threatening to spill out. "Well done," Harry praised.

Dobby let out a gleeful noise, dancing and hopping in place. "Master Harry likes! Mastery Harry likes!"

"Yes, Dobby," Harry said shutting the door. The little house-elf constantly acted this way, which was why Harry had forbid the elf from entering his room. Dobby would constantly rearrange everything and try to decorate his room without asking first.

"Dobby also cleaned the sitting room, every inch of it, Master Harry, sir!" The house-elf squeaked.

"Er…" Harry hesitated. He remembered his guardian expressly telling Dobby not to.

Dobby's jubilance immediately disappeared. "It was so filthy, Master Harry, Dobby could stand it no longer," the house-elf's giant eyes filled with water as he reached for an umbrella from the stand.

"No, it's fine!" Harry blurted out, and the little house-elf's hand shrank from a U-shaped handle. "Just don't do it ever again."

"Dobby also fixed the rickety table, re-stuffed the chairs, and polished the shelves," he squeaked, tugging his ears nervously.

Harry decided he ought to go take a look since he was going to pass through it on the way to his room anyway. He pushed open the door and found that it wasn't as heavy as it had been before despite being laden with books. The very first thing he saw was that the room had also been Extended. The air smelled fresher, the blue carpet unstained and looking brand-new, the unused electric light had been replaced with a hanging gas lantern. The ceiling was bright white without dustbunnies, and everywhere Harry looked the shelves gleamed a mahogany brown. There was not a speck of dust or a dead bug anywhere. Harry pulled off a book, noticing that the metallic filigree on the edges of the pages were shiny like new.

Dobby waited anxiously for comment.

He didn't know what to say. The dirty room had bothered him ever since he'd begun to live there. Now, the curtains looked as if they'd been bleached and starched, and the grimy windows had been scrubbed. Harry looked through them now across the pruned bushes to the broken-down houses across the tired, pot-holed road, a feat that would have been impossible only an hour ago. He stepped closer to the front window when he saw a shadow by the overrun shrubbery across the street. He had that odd sense again.

A great black dog gazed back at him.

Harry started violently. He leaped across the room, yanked the hidden door open to the stairwell, and raced up the steps to his room.

"Master Harry?" Dobby queried fussily.

Harry slammed the bedroom door shut behind him. He paced across his room. Unable to help himself, he went to the window and stared down at the houses below. The black dog was gone. Harry briefly wondered if he was going mad. He sat down on his bed, hands sweaty. Hedwig's cage was empty across from him.

A deep growl from the desk startled him. Harry relaxed when he remembered it was The Monster Book of Monsters.

There was a sharp rap on his door, and Snape stepped in. Two house-elves peered into the room from the hallway behind Snape's black robes.

"Is Master Harry alright? Master Harry took off like Dobby had never seen before."

Nanua shushed him as Snape waved his wand to shut the door slowly behind him.

"Sorry about the sitting room," Harry said. "I told Dobby not to." He looked at his entwined fingers, feeling a sort of numbness set in. He never felt fear for very long after all.

Snape stood there for a moment and then said, "Did you see the black dog?"

"Yes, sir…" Harry looked up nervously. "It can't get in, can it?"

"No. At the moment, not even an owl can find us."

"Will Hedwig be alright?"

"As intelligent as she is, I believe so."

Harry nodded. His eyes lingered on the Sneakoscope he'd received that morning. "Draco… was acting strangely when he saw Dobby…"

"Naturally he sees that house-elf as an avenue to commence correspondence to you. Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle can only provide so much intelligent discussion."

"I thought it might be because of the letters… but when I said I had no intention of sending Dobby back because of how he'd been treated, Draco said, 'Better him than me.'" Harry paused. "Do you think…? He might be…?" Harry met his guardian's unreadable black eyes.

Snape snorted as if this were truly a ridiculous proposition. "Lucius Malfoy loves his son and would never raise his hand in anger towards him. And if he did," his guardian continued while Harry quickly checked the Sneakoscope, "Narcissa is quite capable of expressing her displeasure with innumerable curses for daring to harm her precious child. Most likely, Draco is appealing to your emotions as he very well knows he's more likely to convince you if you believe he has been mistreated due to the house-elf's absence."

The magical device didn't light up even once.

"Now," his guardian said bringing Harry's attention back to him. "Why haven't you asked for my assistance in the seven months since you received this Spellfast cloak?"

"Er… you seemed busy," Harry lied. Something began to whistle next to him. He turned. The Sneakoscope was flashing and spinning in place. It stopped abruptly as soon as Harry flushed. Snape scrutinized him without comment. "I didn't know when there would be a good time to show you, and if I did put spells on it I'd feel like I'd have to wear the cloak. I didn't want to wear it since it looked really expensive."

"Take it out," Snape said without sympathy.

Harry went to his wardrobe, pulling out the bottom drawer which held his invisibility cloak in a hidden compartment. He took the shimmering purple velvet Spellfast cloak from it and spread it out over his bed.

"When Enchanting an object," Snape began, leaning over the cloak to inspect it, "You must find a workspace that has as little magic as possible to avoid an imprint from placing itself into the material prematurely." He gestured at the general surroundings. "As you have not cast any magic in here, accidental or otherwise nor have lived here long enough to leave a passive magical colophon, this room is a good choice." He lifted the cloak and spread it across the clean wooden floor at the foot of Harry's bed. "What defensive spells have you decided upon?"

Harry started. "Er… a Shield Charm, a Notice-Me-Not, and an Alerting spell."

"Ah," Snape said, "the last two are useful indeed. Due to the constraints of Spellfast, no active or particularly strong spells can be used, so your first choice won't work. Which protection spell might you use then?"

In his mind, Harry quickly ran over the passive variety of protection spells he'd learned in Professor Flitwick's class and during the Dueling sessions he'd overseen. "A Rebound Protection like Salvio Hexia?"

"If you didn't mind the welfare of those around you, that would certainly work," Snape said neutrally.

Harry winced at the thought of a nasty hex rebounding unpredictably onto someone else. "Er…" There were hardly any passive protection spells that could be mobile that Harry was aware of that would fit what he wanted. "I don't know what I could use."

"Do you know of Regeneration spells?"

"Er, yes. Refreshening and scouring charms fit under that category." Harry frowned as he tried to picture the use of a cleaning charm on his cloak. He couldn't see why it would be useful.

"My recommendations to add to your list are a standard Repellant Charm, a Quietening Charm and a variation on the Absorption charm. Explain why these would be of benefit to you."

"A Repellant Charm would keep the cloak looking clean and keep the rain off of me. A Quietening Charm on the cloak would make my movements quieter…" The other charm… was good at sponging up liquids and automatically vanishing the substance to whichever place that vanished things went. As the Repellant Charm already repelled substances, Harry wasn't sure what good that would do. His guardian waited patiently. Snape had suggested a variation of an Absorption charm on a cloak. Harry's eyes lit up. "Can you cast the charm to absorb magic?"

"Very good," Snape said with the barest hint of warmth. Harry grinned happily. "It will lessen the impact of most spells. However, be aware that no known spell will provide defense against an Unforgivable Curse."

The Killing Curse then would not be blocked by the cloak.

Harry's guardian pulled out his wand. "Before you Enchant anything, you must cast a localized ward on the object you intend to Enchant in case the spells backfire." He flicked the dark wand, and Harry saw the glow of a lopsided dome cover the cloak; even the floor seemed to glow under the cloak. "With Spellfast, there is a phrase that must be intoned before spellcasting begins. Once you say that phrase, the cloth is activated and will accept up to five spells, even ones that don't work because of a carelessly spoken word." Snape paused. "The general consensus is to weave the weakest spell into the Enchanted object first. However, I have always found better luck in placing the second-strongest spell first, weakest second, followed by the next strongest until the final spell is cast. Now, list the order in which I should cast the spells."

Harry had to contemplate that for a long minute as his mind tore through his knowledge of the general weaknesses of each spell. "Repellant, Quietening, Alerting, Notice-Me-Not, and Absorption…?"

"Not sure?" Snape drawled.

Suddenly very unsure, Harry re-listed it exchanging the Notice-Me-Not and Absorption spells.

His guardian snorted. "Your first list was correct." He lifted his wand. "As I demonstrate, you must not speak or you will have wasted Draco's gift to you."

"Yes, sir."

"Spala Festi," Snape commanded. The cloak immediately took on a hue of countless colors. As Harry's guardian cast each spell very carefully and flourished the correct wand movements across the cloak, its light grew dimmer and dimmer, until the light had completely disappeared. "Finite Spala," he intoned at last.

A flash of light momentarily blinded Harry, and then he heard Snape cancel the ward. Harry blinked as his eyes adjusted.

"Put it on."

Carefully, Harry reached and lifted the cloak which was now a deep green-blue, nearly black. His fingers had tingled the moment he'd touched it.

"Like most Enchanted Objects, a new cloak will protect only its master the best. As I have gifted it to you for your birthday, you are its master."

"Oh…" Harry pulled it over his shoulders and fastened it at the front with the silver clasp in the shape of a snake. He tugged the heavy hood over and found that his face completely shadowed in the cowl. He pulled it back to his shoulders. "Thank you," he said quietly.

"I suggest you wear it whenever you are outside."

"I'm allowed outside?" Harry didn't bother hiding his hopefulness.

"When you begin your new term at Hogwarts," Snape responded harshly. "I was also informed that you own a pair of Dragon-Hide Boots…?"

Harry opened the door of his wardrobe and pulled the surprisingly light boots out from the floor of it. He decided he ought to switch out his shoes before he was told to, so he toed off his trainers and shoved his socked feet into the boots. They fit very snugly and were much more comfortable than they looked. The black boots even looked well with the cloak.

"Go fetch the Enchanted book hiding beneath your desk."

Giving an indifferent look at his guardian, Harry didn't argue and scooped up his half-chewed quarterstaff. It wasn't until he poked the staff under the table that the book snarled. It lunged towards him. Harry jumped back as the book scuttled towards him. He did notice that it seemed to be confused as to where he was until he prodded it again.

Suddenly the belt around the book vanished, and the book began to spit shredded paper at Harry. It looked quite angry with him. "Oi!" He complained at his guardian who stood with his arms crossed in front of the window.

"This is a situational analysis exam. Now subdue the book," came the drawl as Harry tried to avoid the book's snapping covers.

"But I can't use magic!" Harry said, realizing the statement was stupid the moment it left his mouth.

"And you will find yourself in these situations in the future," came the bored reply.

Just as the book had the night previously, it feinted and attempted to latch onto his foot, which he dodged just in time. Harry thwacked it with his quarterstaff.

It let out a louder snarl and hopped right onto his other foot. This time Harry didn't feel a thing, not even pressure as the book chomped and snapped over the Dragon-hide boot, wiggling its spine at him.

"Wicked," Harry said gleefully. He kicked his foot out and the book clung hysterically to his boot, snarling. He suddenly had a feeling of inspiration. Setting his foot back on the floor, he cautiously reached out and petted the spine of the book as if it were one of Aunt Marge's nasty little dogs.

It flopped over like it had fainted. Harry stared at it and then prodded it with his quarterstaff. The green leather-bound book now acted like any other. He picked it up. The pages within opened to a gathering of garden gnomes. When the book didn't try to lunge at his face, Harry closed it and set it gingerly on his desk.

He turned to see Snape observing him coolly. "What?" Harry suddenly felt as if he'd failed whatever Snape had expected to see.

"I see your luck hasn't changed." He pointed his wand at Harry's quarterstaff, "Reparo." In a blink, it was good as new.

"Thanks," Harry said running his fingers over the smooth surface.

"Nor does it appear to have occurred to you to ask for help."

Harry shot him a dismayed look. "I thought this was a test of my ability—"

"To think," Snape said nastily.

"That's not fair!" Harry shouted. "You set me up to fail!"

"Did I? I don't recall telling you that you had to solve the problem of the book by yourself."

Anger and embarrassment flushed into Harry. His guardian was right, of course. Harry had assumed that part of it.

There was a knock on the door, and Snape opened it with a swipe of his wand. It was Nanua.

"Master Snape, Master Harry, your evening meal is prepared for you."

"We will analyze your results later," his guardian said disinterestedly and swept his robes out of Harry's bedroom.

Harry sat down on his bed, suddenly weary. He drew his fingers across the smooth, soft cloak around his shoulders. He was disappointed with himself. Professor Snape had told him countless times to make use of all the resources around him… and the first chance he had to prove that he'd learned something after months of hard work… he'd failed.

He sighed. Snape would probably tell him that he needed to make use of everything and everyone around him instead of stubbornly relying on himself. It was a hard habit to break because Harry had spent a decade having only himself to rely on.

His fingers dug into the cloak. Harry would change that.