My week has been so long. I'm exhausted. However, I wanted to get this chapter up so here it is. I hope you guys like it! A special thanks to Fiona for her kind words! Fiona, it makes me so happy that you are enjoying it!

I really like reviews so please do feel free to leave me some! Now, enough of my blabbing. Onto chapter three.

After All This Time

"Potter, what is the meaning of this?" Scowled Severus.

His dark gaze was glaring intensely at the various locks on the door. Severus may have been tempted to believe the boy was obsessed with privacy and his guardians had taken it upon themselves to bend to their nephew's whim, except that the locks were clearly set to be used to keep what was inside away from the outside. That type of obsessive behavior was more consistent with Alaster Moody than a 14 year old boy, anyway.

Though Potter, Severus decidedly noted, seemed to de-age before his eyes at his question. Meeker than Severus thought the boy capable of, he responded, "You saw. They hate magic. And me. These were meant to keep me from Hogwarts, now they're just there."

Severus eyed that cat flap at the bottom of the door, but he didn't ask. Later, he would call himself a coward, but currently, his mind wandered. I don't care that there's a school for it, Eileen. There will be none of that foolish stick waving in my house and that's the end of it! You keep that...those abnormalities to yourselves! And I'm warning you now, I catch you encouraging your freakiness on him... And keeping him locked up won't be the only thing you'll be screaming about.

Severus glared at the boy. Furiously, he shoved the words revolving in his mind to the back of his head along with the resounding smack that followed the words in his memory. The boy then glared back, "What? Are you going to say I'm lying?"

"Watch your tone," Severus hissed.

He didn't let the boy continue for more reasons than he was willing to admit. The first being that a part of him was insisting the boy was a troublemaker—like father like son—and his guardians had no other choice but to resort to such measures. The image of Petunia and her obnoxious husband snipped the thought quick. The next being being that his thought like father like son disturbed him deeply. Looking at his own father, Severus couldn't help think perhaps he was doing the world a favor by never risking the chance of procreation. Then again, he was surrounded by children on a daily basis. An uncomfortable feeling settled in his stomach. It had been a long day. Not sparing the boy another glance, he entered the room.

Usually, Severus need not think much about useless things, memories of his childhood being one of them. Usually, Severus could focus on the task at hand (generally making sure his students didn't blow themselves up with their ineptitude) and call it a day. Usually, he didn't dwell on his upbringing. Usually, he could just look down on those who sulked about their unfortunate lives because he had suffered as much as any and had never been allowed the luxury. Life wasn't fair. If it was, Lily would be alive and he would be dead.

With more force than necessary, Severus yanked the bedroom door open. Stomping inside, his dark gaze took in the room. Potter: popular, arrogant, and spoiled. Harry Potter was the spitting image of his father. Except—Severus chose not to dwell on that. The room was small, not nearly as his had been at Spinner's end, but small. A bed, a desk, and a wardrobe. The boy's owl was not present, but there stood an empty cage. A few steps and he sat on the chair by the desk. Uncomfortable and old, Severus wondered how it hadn't snapped when he sat down. It was then Potter flicked on a rickety lamp. In the dim light, Severus registered a neatly cluttered room. There were news articles messily scattered on the desk and the cover on the bed was wrinkled—as if it had been slept on and left so. A pile of clothing had been piled at the foot of the bed.

He sneered.

Potter had been standing listlessly, Severus had noticed. They boy's body immediately tensed as the sound vibrated in the silent room. Green eyes burned, "Not live up to your expectations, sir?"

He matched the boy's intense stare. No, it had not lived up to his expectation. Hogwarts was one thing, but being here... Severus understood perfectly two things: Petunia had created a family with abhorrence to magic and there was more depth to Harry Potter than he had previously allowed himself to see.

"Your hosting manners are certainly living up to expectations," said Severus blankly. "Just as impeccable as your raging uncle."

The boy huffed. A silence lingered heavily before the boy side eyed Severus. Crossing his arms, he asked quietly, "So, what is Voldemort up to?"

"Do not "—Severus hissed—"say his name."

The boy's face twisted into rage. Severus' gaze darkened. It was remarkable; the resemblance between son and father. Unlike any ordinary day, it wasn't enough to bring him to anger now. It'd been a long night and he was beyond tired, so he just watched the boy with dark eyes.

"He was clearly the one who did that to you!" Exclaimed Potter vehemently, "And you're still on - on calling him anything other than that!"

Severus' lip curled down. If the boy was too dim witted to understand the situation, he would not explain it to him. Fat chance it would make a difference. People liked to ask questions they didn't actually seek answers to and Severus refused to humor them on that. The man straightened his back, ignoring the protesting ache of his body, and quietly commanded, "Potter, I have no desire to hear you prattle all night. Be quiet and go to sleep."

The boy stared at him defiantly. Closing his eyes, he thought: just this once, Potter. Do as you're told. When he opened his eyes, the boy's gaze had become decisive. Severus waved peace away and irritation began to take bloom. Then, the boy surprised him. Potter fell into his mattress and it squeaked under his weight. He curled his body toward the wall. There was silence. Then, the boy spoke, "I don't know why you're here or what you're up to. I don't trust you, but I'm tired."

The boy placed his wand at arms reach on the bedside table. He was tempted to berate the boy for his stupidity, especially after he heard his breath even out. Falling asleep and leaving his wand for the taking of a potential enemy was asking for trouble. However, he kept quiet. Even he was having trouble holding any stronger of a reaction. When Dumbledore told him he would have to return to the Dark Lord, he had known it would be difficult and gruesome. He had known it, but knowing was different from experiencing. He fiddled with the stained button in his hands.

After all this time, he thought he had become used to being distrusted and undervalued. He thought he had become used to being an outcast. Severus glanced at the boy when he turned to lay on his back. Protecting the boy, making sure he lived, meant he needed to make sure Voldemort stayed far away. To keep his promise to Lily, to honor her sacrifice, he needed to make one of his own. Risking his life, enduring the pain, would be worth it if he could keep Lily's boy alive. However, as meaningless as his life was. Severus still resented the distrust, the hateful attitudes with which he was regarded. He knew he wasn't pleasant. He was ugly, nasty, and bitter. He was not asking for affection. Trust was different. Trust didn't have to be based on affection.

Potter, much like the order (excluding Dumbledore), distrusted him. It was a good thing. It didn't hurt his feelings. Severus comforted himself with that thought. Yet, an irrational bitterness remained and it floated to the surface on nights like this. He risked his life to protect Lily after his own foolishness put her in danger. Now, he risks his life for her son. And, in a hushed whisper his mind said, for Dumbledore too. The order didn't know that. Severus had no urge to tell them, nor did he have wishes for grandeur, but the suffocating desire of acceptance he had as a young boy came forward on occasion. He clenched his jaw, willing his shields to mend themselves. Breathing deeply, he cleared his mind of any more useless thought.

Potter's breath staggered as he fidgeted in his sleep. Figures, even in sleep the boy was restless. The boy made a small noise and his face scrunched in discomfort. Shifting in his seat, Severus watched the boy closely. Droplets of perspiration were building on his face. Severus stood from the hard chair when a silver phoenix burst through the window in Potter's room. Gently flapping his wings, the phoenix gave a message in Dumbledore's voice, "The order is preparing to retrieve Harry. When you return, we shall speak. Be safe, Severus."

The last message was said in a whisper. Severus breathed heavily as the phoenix dispersed. Squeezing his eyes close, he focused on pushing the emotions that those words threatened to raise. The important part of Dumbledore's message was that Potter would at most be here a few days and he needed to recover before then. It was with relief that he met Potter's owl. He met her gaze with disinterest, but her glare of distrust offered him a distraction. She was Potter's owl alright. Crossing his arms, he told her, "Finish your meal first and then you can try to intimidate me."

The owl blinked and swallowed down her dead snack. She flew to her cage and preened her feathers, eyeing him from time to time. He raised an eyebrow and she huffed. Severus glanced down at her cage. It was filthy. Frowning, he flicked his wand. The owl squawked indignantly, but calmed relatively fast when she realized he had cast a cleaning charm on her cage. Her eyes watched him curiously. He didn't meet them. Instead, he turned to Potter. He hadn't woken from his slumber despite his owl's noisiness. Instead, he'd become more agitated. He was tossing and turning. Small whimpers began to fall from his lips. The boy was having a nightmare.

Severus paled when the boy screamed, "Not Cedric! Not Cedric!"

His voice escalated as he repeated the mantra until he was only screaming. His body convulsed and arms flailed around as if he were under the cruciatus. He nearly became sick as he realized Potter was more than likely reliving his experience with the Dark Lord. Swiftly, he crossed the space between. He gripped the boy by the shoulders, "Potter, wake up!"

The boy pushed against him and his legs pressed against the bed as he squirmed away. Severus groaned when the boy landed a fist on his shoulder. Forcefully, gripped the boy again, "Wake up! Wake up! It's not real! You are dreaming!"

The boy sagged in his hands for a moment. Severus sighed. As much as he hated James Potter, and as much as the boy reminded him of the man, he was well aware of the guilt that came with watching a death like that and he didn't wish it on the boy. His heart, rebellious, for a moment felt sympathy. He wanted to squash it, immediately. Yet, he couldn't. He'd seen a vulnerability in the boy today than he had refused to see before and he couldn't remove it from his memory.

The moment of relief was short lived. The boy began turning again and this time, he didn't scream. Hands began gripping his head as he twisted and turned. Severus furrowed his brows and pried away Potter's hands from his scar. It was burning red. Severus stepped back. His mouth parted open with shock. Urgency and something akin to fear tugged at him. It was then the boy awakened, his hand reached up to rub his scar as he gasped with exertion. He was disoriented with sleep and no doubt the subject of his dreams. He may have been tempted to give the boy reprieve before, but not now. He needed to be quick or else the boy may not be so forthcoming.

"What did you see?" Severus asked urgently.

Potter shook like a leaf, his eyes looking at Severus with pain, guilt, and confusion. Potter was not Lily, but it hurt. It hurt because those were her eyes. The boy shook his head, "I- Cedric- The graveyard-"

Severus bent down on his knees, ignoring the discomfort. The boy's eyes followed him as if he were his lifeline, "What else did you see, Potter?"

He knew his voice was gruff. He didn't know how to comfort. He'd never really been comforted, not really and definitely not in this type of setting. However, he wasn't trying to comfort the boy. What he needed to know was what he had seen that had caused his scar to burn. He didn't believe it was the graveyard, as horrible as that must have been, that caused such reaction. Call it intuition, it had yet to steer him wrong. Severus held the boy by the shoulders, "What did you see, Potter?"

The boy darted his eyes across his face, never once meeting his eyes before responding shakily, "I don't know! I keep dreaming it and my scar always hurts after, but I don't know what it is!"

"Then describe it!" Severus pressed loudly.

It was then the boy's door slammed open, "WHAT IS GOING ON HERE!"

"Vernon," Petunia tugged on her husband's arm, "Let's stay out of it. Come to bed."

Green eyes snapped to his Aunt and Uncle. Severus held a growl in his throat. Tightly, he spit out, "Focus, Potter! What. Did. You. See."

The boy grabbed his head in his hands, "It's a long corridor. Blank walls and torches...at the end there's a locked door, but I can never open it! I keep dreaming it, why?"

The boy had let his hands fall midway through his description. His eyes were begging for answers and Severus cursed in his head. The face looking at him was so the same to James Potter. He felt a sick sense of satisfaction that disgusted even himself. Because the boy was Lily's, and for once, he couldn't ignore the eyes. Eyes that were begging for relief. Glaring at the boy, he forced himself clear his mind. If he could stand to be tortured by the Dark Lord, if his shield could hold then, he should have better control of his thoughts now. Urgency still present, but thoughts other than the matter at hand evaporated.

"I need to see it myself."

Potter slowly asked, "You want to read my mind?"

Severus resisted the urge to correct the boy's clear lack of understanding of the inner workings of the mind and instead said, "Think of what you saw, it'll make it quicker."

"I- But-"

"POTTER!" Unable to hold his temper Severus let go of the boy and pulled his wand.

The boy instantly reached for his own and Severus let him. In the background, he heard Petunia squeak. The boy was completely awake now. Severus crossed his arms, his wand still comfortably in his hand. At this, the boy paused, ". . . What?"

He'd been occluding most of the night and as a result, he was tired. Mental magic, was still magic and as such, was still taxing. He scowled, that cleaning charm had not been a good idea. If Potter resisted his attack, not that the boy was likely to be much of a fight considering how inept he was at keeping his thought off his face, then that would be it. Severus was in no condition to properly look into the boy's mind.

"I am in no condition to fight you on this, but use common sense, Potter." He surprised himself with the softness in which he said it. The boy glared at him. Severus shifted his weight, "You've been dreaming of this door and your scar is hurting. As you said, the Dark Lord did this to me."

The boy's glare shifted to his bandaged torso. Severus gave the boy a moment to consider his words and then continued, "Albus Dumbledore for all his power, has never injured me like this. It may be too much for you, but think logically."

Perhaps, that last bit was unnecessary, but Potter looked thoughtful. The familiar distrust was once again showcasing in his eyes and Severus was sure that he had exposed himself more to the boy for nothing. He would have to enter the boy's mind forcefully. Would Albus disapprove? Yes. Did he like facing the older man's disappointment? No. He disliked it more than he'd care to admit. He would do it because it needed to be done. Better the boy suffer now, than have him dead later...especially if his theory on the boy's dream was correct.

"Okay."

Potter met his eyes bravely, like a Gryffindor. Foolish boy, Severus thought snidely. None the less, he would take the chance he got. He raised his wand and nearly cast the spell before the boy interrupted, "For the record, I don't trust you. Dumbledore does. Aunt Petunia clearly doesn't like you, but she seems to trust your intentions. I don't know what your business with my mom was, but if she is the reason you are here...if she was your friend...then, this is me trusting her judgement, not you."

Severus didn't think the boy was capable of complex thought like that. He nodded and pointed his wand at the boy, "Legilimens!"

Delving into the boy's mind, memories lay scattered around and though he may have been tempted to snoop, he didn't. It would have brought him great joy to find something to knock the boy down from his pedestal. Fame built upon Lily's death...he loathed to think that the boy relished in it. However, the outburst Potter had in the kitchen had torn certainty and lit doubt in his mind in his previous perceptions. Harry Potter was not Lily. But just maybe, he was less like James Potter than he'd originally thought.

He followed the boy as he walked along a corridor. Torches were aligned along the parallel walls and at the end, just as the boy had said, was a door. Severus pushed himself out. Potter was rubbing his scar. Severus' mind was working hard to connect the dots. Voldemort's words came back to him. His interest in the relationship between Potter and Dumbledore. The mutt. The prophecy. Dumbledore's plan. Dumbledore's plan.

Damn. Damn it all. That plan was over.

Severus gripped a handful of his hair at the back of his head as he watched the boy gather himself. It was unlikely the Dark Lord had any plans formulated yet. He wanted to keep his return quiet after his failed attempt to kill the boy, but all of this. Everything that had unfolded in the last couple of hours, if left unchecked...Severus was certain it would only spell trouble, especially considering what he'd just seen concern the boy's state of mind. By no means, was the mind organized into neat folders for the convenience of any onlooker, but the boy was clearly confused and angry and hurt. If the nightmares were anything to go by, the guilt was eating him and clearly, he was starving for information. His mind was a mess by any standard to put it simply.

"Change of plans." Severus told the boy abruptly, "Pack your things."

The boy stood, "What? Why? What's going on? Is what I saw important? What about Dumbledore and Mr. Weasley, and Sirius? They told me not to leave!"

Severus ignored the stream of question's and opened the boy's wardrobe. He grabbed a random shirt and pulled it over his head. It was a loose fit, but he tucked it into his trousers. Now was hardly the time to worry about aesthetics, not that he ever did. With haste, he pulled the rest of the shirts and threw them on the boy's bed.

"What are you doing?!" exclaimed the boy. "I can't leave!"

Severus found the boy's trousers and robes and tossed those on the bed as well, "Get your trunk. I know what they told you, but I'm telling you that we are leaving. We need to. That dream you are having . . . "

Severus considered what to say. If Albus' theory was correct and Voldemort would try to use the boy as means to reach him. He frowned, it didn't matter. Severus was used to working on limited information. He often thought that it came down to trust, that perhaps a part of the old man still didn't trust him, but looking at the boy, he was comforted. It was no secret to Severus that Albus Dumbledore cared deeply - no, he loved the golden boy. It irked him, but if he would act in such manner with the boy as well, then perhaps Severus could pretend for a minute that the old coot may have just a bit of consideration for Severus too.

While Severus would generally act as Dumbledore directed even if reluctantly, Potter was different. Potter was reckless and impulsive. Now, he had that desperation to understand his situation - it's a deadly combination.

"Listen closely and do not argue with me, Potter. There is a reason the Headmaster has yet to contact you. There was a prophecy made relating to you and Voldemort, you are dreaming of the Department of Mysteries where the prophecy can be found. I need to get you to Headquarters. The Headmaster must be made aware of it immediately."

Albus was determined to push the boy away. He had this delusion that he could protect the boy from the conflict, but Severus held no such illusions. His goal was to make sure the boy stayed alive and so, if he needed to push the man into a corner he would. No matter if the thought caused a level of discomfort. He grimaced and curled his lip nastily. The boy was looking at him with disbelief.

"What are you waiting for? Get to it!"

The boy stammered, "Y-y-you said his name."

Severus froze. That's not...if it had been in front of the Dark Lord. Dread poured over him, he hadn't even added the 'Lord' as a prefix. If the Dark Lord got wind of such a thing, at best he'd be at the receiving end of the Cruciatus again. At worst, it would be a blow to his cover and the Avada Kedavra. Severus slumped on the the bed. He cursed Voldemort - no, the Dark Lord. He cursed the Dark Lord for his state. Rubbing his hand over his face, he said, "Don't make me repeat myself. We leave in 30 minutes."

He then spoke to the couple by the door watching in trepidation and anger. Petunia the former and Vernon the latter.

"I need you to drive us to London."

"Now hold on a minute, here." Potter's uncle started, his face becoming beet red, "If you think that I am driving all the way to London at THREE in the morning! You are out of your damn bloody mind."

"Uncle Vernon-" Potter started and Petunia silenced him with a look, "I'll take you. Thirty minutes."

Severus nodded as she walked away, her husband furiously arguing her decision as he followed. Potter's flabbergast expression nearly made him laugh. Reality set in quickly as Potter snapped back into action. He was shoving clothes and books into his trunk. Severus took parchment paper from over a desk and a quill the boy had yet to pack. From the corner of his eye, he saw him place his broom and owl cage on the bed. The latter, Severus noted, Potter was looking at in confusion. Quickly, Severus began to write.

I will be arriving shortly after you receive this letter. Be ready to let me in.

Severus folded the paper carefully. Potter had been looking over his shoulder as he wrote. He addressed the boy's owl on the bed, "I need to use your services."

The owl watched him curiously and eyed her owner, but Potter showed neither approval or disapproval. He was watching him suspiciously, no doubt by the vagueness of his letter. Severus didn't look at him. Instead, he walked to the owl and carefully tied the parchment to her leg when she offered it to him, "Take that to Albus Dumbledore."

The boy relaxed at his words and turned to finish closing his trunk. A quick shrinking trunk on the boy's belongings and they were down in the kitchen. Vernon was red in the face with anger and Petunia was holding car keys. Seeing no reason to waste anymore time, he turned to the boy, "I am going to cast a disillusionment charm on you. DO NOT do anything reckless or wander off. Stay close to me at all times. And Potter, should we run into trouble, you are to do nothing. You will hide and wait for someone to come for you. Do not do any magic."

"But, what if-"

"No." Severus commanded, "If we don't arrive, the Headmaster will realize something went wrong. You will only exacerbate the situation by putting yourself at harms way, not to mention it will make it easier to track you. Listen to me on this."

The boy looked like he wanted to argue, but instead he nodded. Severus placed the charm on the boy and watched as he began to blend with his surrounding. Vernon was watching with horrified fascination, but when he spoke there was a bit of hope, "He's gone?"

"I'm still here." Severus thought the boy sounded unapologetic as he said, "Sorry."

The man grumbled angrily. Petunia frowned, but said nothing other than, "Take care of Dudley, I'll be back soon."

Her hand stroked the beefy man's cheek and then she was walking toward the door. Before long, they were on the road the London. Severus sat next to Potter in the back as Petunia drove. The silence was heavy and uncomfortable, but Severus didn't mind. His life had been filled with those. Better the silence than forced pleasantries. Potter seemed to have other ideas much to Severus' discomfort.

"So, you guys know each other." Said the boy conversationally.

"Don't ask questions!" Petunia shrieked, her knuckles turning white as she gripped the steering wheel.

Severus narrowed his eyes, "Still jealous, Petunia."

Petunia glared at him, "Jealous, of you? Don't be ridiculous."

On occasion, Severus had theorized to Lily that the real cause of Petunia's hostility was the desire to be a witch herself. Lily hadn't commented much other than her sadness caused by the behavior. With this in mind, he ignored her denial.

"It hurt her," Severus told her, "that you called her a freak."

He wasn't sure why he kept talking, or where he was going with the conversation, but for once, he couldn't keep his mouth shut. He blamed it on the lack of sleep and exhaustion. Petunia was quiet for a moment and then said, "You hurt her too."

His heart skipped a beat.

"She never said it, why you stopped coming over," Petunia paused, her eyes meeting his through the rearview mirror, "But sometimes, I'd catch her looking at pictures of you guys together. She missed you."

Severus felt his eyes water and for a moment he saw something close to regret in her eyes too before they hardened, "Then she went a got herself blown up. Jealous? No Snape. That freakiness is going to get you killed."

Bitingly, he responded, "I didn't realize you cared so much."

She scoffed, "You're just as nasty as when we were kids."

"So are you."

She didn't respond and he felt no need to make any additional comments. Of course, Potter would ruin the silence, "So, you and my mom were friends and then you fell out? What happened?"

Snape snapped, "No more questions!"

"But-"

"No!"

Wisely, the boy quieted down, but Severus imagined it wouldn't be the last time he heard from the boy about this. The silence took over until they reached they reached near the border to London. Potter had kept quiet until then, "You said you were taking me to Headquarters, where is that and what does that have to do with Dumbledore? Why is my dream so important?"

Severus leaned forward, ignoring the boy, it helped that he couldn't visibly see him. To Petunia, he began directing her through the various streets in London. It was dark, but not nearly as it had been when they had left. Unlike Little Whinging, despite the hour, cars were moving and the streets were loud, the light where everywhere and bright. The clock on the car read a quarter to five. Just little way from Grimmauld Place, he told Petunia to stop the car. Severus had been making sure they weren't being followed, it wouldn't do to have Petunia killed, nor would it do have himself be exposed transporting the boy. How he was going to spin this to the Dark Lord, Severus wondered. He would find a way. He had no alternative other than death.

"Drive straight home, Petunia." Severus told her, "Don't stop for anything and never speak of tonight. Make sure your husband and son do the same."

Petunia looked concerned and she struggled to find her words, but that was none of his business. If she had something to say, she would and he would not prompt her. He did not care. If anything, he rather she didn't. Petunia always had a way of crawling under his skin. As such, he shouldn't have expected any different.

"You're working for that man. The man that killed Lily."

Their eyes met, "Yes."

Her eyes trailed down to his exposed arm, where the glow from outside barely lit his dark mark. She couldn't know what it meant, but somehow she did. Her gaze turned fearful, "I won't live long if the boy dies."

He would kill me if weren't for the blood wards, Severus interpreted. His silence answered her question.

"I always wondered what my sister saw in you." She threw at him, "Working for two masters. You'll end up like she did."

Severus' chest felt heavy. Somedays, he really wished it so. Stepping out of the car, he waited a moment, listening for Potter's footsteps on the pavement. He didn't bother saying goodbye. Petunia wouldn't appreciate it and he didn't care to. The car drove away. He walked quickly, aware of his surrounds, and then stopped abruptly. He felt a body smack behind his. A soft grunt and a muffled apology came in Potter's voice. Severus looked down and whispered, "Do not speak. A hand on my shoulder, Potter. I need to know you are there."

There was a pause. A hand lightly held his shoulder and Severus kept walking, more secure in the boy's whereabouts. Soon, they were standing before a row of houses. Severus didn't have to wait long, Grimmauld Place materialized for him, Potter wouldn't be able to see it, but there stood Dumbledore at the entrance. His robes were blowing in the breeze. Blue eyes were staring at him in a way that made him feel small. As if he didn't already feel so in Potter's ratty muggle shirt.

"Professor...are we here?"

He turned away from Dumbledore as the man walked toward them. He ended the charm on Potter as Albus crossed the boundary of the Fidelius. The boy looked at the Headmaster like a deer before headlights. The Headmaster ignored the boy and Severus was tempted to do the same to the Headmaster. Instead, he gathered his courage and said, "If you would, Headmaster. I'd like to rest and Potter has been relentless with his questions."

The man looked him up and down. He could see the questions bubbling in his eyes. No rest yet then. At last, Albus turn to the boy.

"Harry, remember what I am going to say." The old man didn't look at the boy even when he leaned down to his ear. Severus scowled. That plan would end in disaster if they didn't rectify it soon. Potter nodded. The boy was frowning and Severus had no doubt the boy found the behavior peculiar.

"The headquarters for the Order of the Phoenix may be found at number 12 Grimmauld Place, London."