Snape spent a quiet afternoon with the Granger twit making a potion that identified and enhanced other phosphorescent substances, and even he had to admit she was helpful. The potion would take several hours to fully finish, but at least it was started. What next?

Snape knew that the next logical person to talk to was Potter, but he found himself strangely reluctant. Did he think the boy guilty? No. But neither did he want to deal with a self-righteous Gryffindor declaring his innocence and demanding that others jump to defend himself. It rankled that he would be one of the boy's defenders, he realized. It was uncomfortable ground.

"Mr. Potter," he greeted the boy as he entered the chamber. Dumbledore had put the boy in a cell, essentially, but had made sure that it was a comfortable one. Though the boy couldn't leave the room, he had every comfort.

He saw the boy sitting at the table with his head resting in his arms, and Snape found himself ready to sneer at the boy's sloth. Did he really not care so much that he was actually just napping while others scrambled to exonerate his sorry backside?

But when Harry picked up his head and looked at Snape, he was taken aback. The boy was not indignant and insistent, he was devastated. They boy's red-rimmed eyes looked up at Snape in fear and remorse, and actually seemed a bit relieved to see the Potion Master. Who had he been expecting?

"Did I miss a homework or a detention, professor?" he asked softly. "I'm sorry, I've been . . . detained." The last word came out with a slight strangle, and Snape found himself suddenly realizing that the boy had been crying.

"Pull yourself together, Potter," he snapped at the boy. "One would think you were guilty or something."

"Maybe I am," the boy answered with his voice hitching alarmingly. "I know that Hermione asked you to help me."

"Did she tell you what the price was for my cooperation?" Snape asked, his eyes narrowing.

"She did," he nodded, with a slight wince at the cost. "But believe me when I say that it would be worth it."

"Did she tell you that the cost would be paid by you and your other sidekick as well?" Snape pressed.

"Of course," Harry rolled his eyes a little. "As if we would let her take the cane for us."

"You will need to cooperate with me fully and answer any questions that I deem appropriate," Snape told him firmly.

"I'll cooperate," Harry agreed. Snape knew that this agreement wasn't a normal state of affairs for Harry, but that his fear and desperation were acting to have him trust even the Potions Master for help. Snape found himself somewhat flummoxed by this new Potter.

"Summon your elf," Snape ordered.

"What?" Harry asked, confused.

"I am tired of this disrespect," he growled. "Summon your elf at once. He's been avoiding me because he knows how you feel about me, so he won't come unless you summon him."

"I don't have an elf," Harry answered. "I mean, I'm friends with Dobby . . ."

"Summon Dobby," Snape nodded curtly.

"Um, I guess," Harry looked uncertain. "I've never really done this before. Dobby? Could you please come talk to us?"

Instantly, a small elf popped into the room just beside Harry. "Master Harry Potters sir!" the small elf greeted him.

"Hi Dobby," Harry managed a bit of a smile. "Professor Snape wanted to talk to you."

"I sees him in class," Dobby turned towards Snape with his tiny face wrenched in consternation. "Yous are not good to my friend Harry Potter."

"Dobby, if you answer my questions honestly it would help your friend a great deal," Snape told him calmly. "You want to help him, right?"

"Of course!" Dobby answered with excitement. "Me, helping a wizard! My friend Harry Potter!"

"Yes, yes," Snape nodded. "Please pay attention. I need to know where Harry was yesterday."

"He was many places, sir."

"I need you to tell me all of them," Snape told him, pulling out a quill and parchment. "It's important."

Dobby looked at Harry questioningly, and Harry nodded. "Tell him everything," Harry indicated. "Even stuff you think will get me in trouble. Professor Snape is trying to help me."

And so Dobby told him of Harry eating breakfast and having a piece of toast and getting jam in his hair, of passing notes with Ron during History of Magic, and how he'd tried to skive off of Potions and been caught.

"That explains your tardiness," Snape glowered a bit.

"You can give me lines or detention later," Harry shrugged. "I believe that's the least of my problems now. But how does Dobby know all this stuff?"

"I watch you, Harry Potter," Dobby smiled a little. "You are Dobby's friend."

"Continue, Dobby," Snape directed. "What happened next?"

Dobby went through the rest of Harry's day, up until dinner. Then, Dobby's face screwed up in concentration, and he said softly. "I'm not sure how it happened."

"How what happened?" Snape asked.

"House elves watch our people," Dobby explained. "And we always come when we're called. But Dobby didn't see everything. I knew Harry was in danger, though. And then . . ."

"Go on, Dobby," Snape encouraged.

"I found him asleep," Dobby admitted. "He was near the Owlery. I's think, maybe, its something from those twins friends. Sos Dobby covers Harry Potter with a blanket."

"I don't remember that!" Harry exclaimed.

"What happened next?" Snape asked.

"I dids not want to get Master Harry Potter in trouble," Dobby explained. "I hid him."

"Hid me?" Harry asked.

"So you hid the boy, and then he woke up later?"

"He woke up very early this morning," Dobby replied. "He went to his bed and he walked strange."

"The last thing I remember is dinner," Harry admitted. "I don't remember anything until I woke up this morning in my bed."

"According to Dobby you were framed for the murder," Snape surmised.

"So, that's it then?" Harry asked. "I'm all cleared?"

"House elf testimony is not admissible in court," Snape answered. "But I hope that it answers at least for you and I that you had nothing to do with it."

"That's a relief," Harry sighed, and Snape saw that he meant it. The lad really had been afraid that he'd hurt someone.

"Surely you didn't really think you'd done it," Snape observed to him.

"Well, not consciously," Harry admitted. "But what if I had the imperious? Or like what happened to Ginny on second year?"

"If you had paid attention in Defense class you would know that under the imperious you retain memories," Snape snapped at him. "And please let me know if you are handling any of the Dark Lord's school things."

"But then what happened?" Harry pressed.

"Obviously, you were confounded," Snape told him. "Not exculpatory evidence either, as any idiot can confound themselves after a crime."

"So what do we do next, then?" Harry asked him.

Snape examined the boy, wondering how to answer his question. Part of him wanted to send the boy to detention for never once saying "sir" to him, but the other part of him saw the boy for the scared fourteen year old he was.

"We start by you calling me sir," Snape intoned.

"Yes, sir," Harry answered, though he felt a bit awkward doing so. But if this man was actually going to save him from prison . . .

"And then you will trust me," Snape replied. "Don't admit anything, don't talk to anyone without me there, and for Merlin's sake do your best to reign in your Potterish tendencies towards breaking rules."

"Even Dumbledore?" Harry asked. "I mean, I should always ask for you?"

"Always ask for me," he intoned. "At least until we have this sorted out. We don't know who to trust because you've been framed. Presumably they would like to keep you that way."

"How do I ask for you?" Harry asked. "I mean, what if they don't want you there? Sir."

Snape had to admit that the boy had a point. He sighed, realizing the lengths he was going through just to have a chance at meting out some justice for theft committed two years ago. But he didn't let himself ask if it was worth it, or even if that was his primary motivation anymore.

Snape looked around the room, finding a pawn chess piece. With a flick of his wand, the small pawn glowed and then looked normal again.

"If you say the phrase, 'I want Professor Snape' then this will alert me," Snape told him. "And I will be here shortly. Keep it in your pocket."

"Thank you," Harry told Snape. "Thank you for actually believing me."

"You are a terrible liar," Snape told him, studying his face critically. "And have done many wrong things in your career at Hogwarts, and been held accountable for very little. However, even I do not want to see you in Azkaban, Potter. Surely you don't think that ill of me."

"Maybe," Harry answered, his mouth finding a faint smile. "You have been pretty hard on me."

"And have saved you several times," Snape reminded him. "Merlin's sakes, child, if I had wanted rid of you I would have only needed to step aside for the numerous times you were in actual danger! I would not need an elaborate plan to frame you."

"Is it an elaborate plan?" Harry asked. "I thought this seemed more spur of the moment."

"I'm the detective here," Snape answered grumpily, though Harry's words had truth in them. This was not well thought out. So then where did they get such an elaborate poison? What if that was the most handy one to hand, and the plan was more a stopgap measure? They needed to find the source of that poison.