Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter NOR any of his friends NEITHER any of his enemies. It's hard to admit, but when I'm done with them all, I have to return them to Joanne K. Rowling in an original wrapping and unharmed.
I make no money, I mean no harm.

Patchwork
Justice

"Pull up! Pull UP!" Draco stopped midair and watched in horror as his young student nearly barrelled into the stands. She swatted the ball just before turning - not a real Bludgeon, luckily, because she hurled it directly at Draco who was still too shocked to react in time. The ball hit him mid-chest and he grabbed it with both arms.

A Bludgeon would have knocked me off of my broom, he thought.

"Nice shot. Nice flying." He forced himself to breathe in and out as Lizzy flew back to him with a happy grin. "Don't go that close to the stands, though. If you get hurt, Madam Hooch will have me quartered by Thestrals."

"Thestrals wouldn't agree to do that," Lizzy retorted merrily. "Can we try some more?"

"Not today. Slytherin practice starts in twenty minutes, we need to vacate the field for them. Come on." Just for the pleasure of flying, they crossed the field in air and landed just before the broomstick shed. They collected their bags and walked back to the castle. Draco let Lizzy chatter about the moves she learnt during their lesson as they climbed the stairs all the way to the seventh floor.

"Oh! Here, where does the broom go?" Lizzy exclaimed and tried to hand Draco's spare broom back to him when they reached the top of the staircase.

"Keep it - just don't go flying without me." Draco grinned. "I'd be in trouble if Madam Hooch found out about anything like that."

"Hi Draco."

"Hi..." he turned a bit to face her, "Ginny. Good night, Lizzy, see you tomorrow afternoon. How's it going?" Draco pointed to a stack of leaflets the redhead was carrying.

"Better than I expected - thanks for your help." Ginny dropped the stack on the windowsill and casually glanced outside.

"It was my pleasure." Draco subconsciously puffed up his chest. Ginny didn't seem to notice, which was probably for the better.

"So I see you've met Lizzy?" she queried curiously and gestured towards the portrait. Lizzy had already climbed inside to tell about her adventures to anyone willing to listen.

"Ah yeah, she's quite the flier. If she doesn't get on the team next year, I don't know who will."

"Seeker?" Draco shook his head and went into a detailed explanation of Lizzy's prowess.

"You know, I might join you guys sometimes," Ginny said pensively when Draco finished.

"Sure thing, the more the merrier. I have to go; nice talking to you." Draco nearly skipped down the stairs. He had about half an hour to grab his bag and get down to the dungeons.

At one turn, he stopped and looked out of the window. He felt as if someone was watching him. But it was dark and he could only see lights zooming about the Quidditch field - members of the Slytherin team were flying with small lights to be able to tell where everyone was - and towards the Forbidden Forest, light pouring out of Hagrid's hut. The forest itself was indiscernible from the grounds. Draco shrugged and went on, the feeling forgotten already.

Snape carefully assessed his reflection in the mirror. Nothing in his face showed his exhaustion, there was no trace of the feelings that had knocked him to his knees just a few hours earlier. A little potion took care of the fatigue of two sleepless nights; a lot of concentration to mask his inner turmoil, or maybe the fact that he had any feelings left.

He should wait. Rest for a night. But at the same time, he couldn't; he had visited the Burrow. Someone might talk. He had to be the first to talk.

He Apparated right from the middle of his house. Malfoy Manor stood in front of him, several windows glowing in the dusk. He marched through the garden and the entrance with confidence he didn't feel at all. But he couldn't wait. His life was on the line, as always.

Peter Pettigrew was in the entrance hall, fiddling with the umbrella stand. A pang of deep hatred shot through Snape and he let it show in his eyes. The years of abuse meant nothing anymore, except they gave him an excuse to despise the rat that had betrayed Lily to her death. And no-one knew, least of all Pettigrew himself.

Voldemort was waiting for him in the study. A book lay open on the table, no doubt offering more insight into something horrific. Snape had probably perused that book years ago, with Lucius' benevolent permission. A page turned in the book with a soft rustling sound.

"Severus!" The way his own name slithered out of Voldemorts mouth made his skin crawl. Fortunately, that was just an expression, and his appearance didn't give him away. The thought cheered him up.

"My lord," Snape bowed obediently. As he rose, Voldemort looked into his eyes. He could feel the long fingers of the Dark Lord's mind browsing through his thoughts. He used to be more discreet about that. Apparently, he no longer considered it needed.

"I have managed something incredible," Snape proceeded as if Voldemort wasn't probing his mind already. "I made contact with the Weasleys today and they - and the rest of their circles - now believe that I still work for Dumbledore."

"How is that possible?" The question was accompanied by more Legilimency.

"Well, they are fairly limited." He curled his lip. "I led them to believe that Dumbledore worked with me in advance to fake his own death. They now expect him to come and save them when they inevitably fail to save themselves." He waved his hand vaguely. "I suppose they truly wanted to hear that." Voldemort reached into his mind again and Snape couldn't blame him for disbelieving; it was quite far-fetched. Not as far-fetched as the truth, still.

"They would believe anything," Voldemort finally scoffed and turned away from him. Snape smiled. The mental gymnastics he had just performed were far beyond basic Occlumency. Granger was right, it was a worthy achievement. All his. He allowed his pride to shine through. A drop of truth mixed with the heap of lies did wonders.

"Severus," said Voldemort suddenly, reaching forward. He grabbed Snape's shoulder. "Severus!"

He jerked awake. He was in his own study, sitting in an armchair with his hurting leg propped up, and Tisha was leaning over him and gently shaking his shoulder.

"What... time is it?" He looked at the piece of parchment he was still holding. Granger's essay.

"Half past seven. You looked like you needed some rest," Tisha answered almost apologetically. "Would you like something to eat?"

"No, I'm..." Snape's stomach loudly grumbled. "I'm not done reading this essay."

"Did you assign it to be so long?" It was more of an accusation than a question. Sure, Snape thought sourly, assign a lot of homework, suffer the consequences.

"No, but Miss Granger wrote it so long anyway. I have more than half of it to read yet." Tisha peeked over his shoulder.

"How long was it supposed to be?" Snape jerked irritably.

"Three feet."

"Okay." And the Squib grabbed the essay from his hand, lay it on the table, and measured three feet. She then took his quill and drew a line just below the three-foot mark.

"There. Only mark three feet of it."

"There is... there is a lot of information in the rest of the essay. As I know Miss Granger, all of it is correct," Snape retorted.

"Severus. You wanted a three-foot essay on..." she peaked at the top of the parchment, "on correct ways of preparing beetle eyes for long-term storage. This is a N.E.W.T. level course. Your students should be able to decide which information is the most important and only include as much as is needed for the essay to be three feet long. Hermione is very bright. She can do that, too."

Snape mutely stared at the parchment. The information provided in the first three feet was all correct. Some of the crucial information was further down, he was sure, pushed below the cut-off line by excessive detail provided for every method Granger listed.

"If you wanted all of the information, you wouldn't limit the lenght of the essay, would you?" Tisha pressed. Snape swallowed.

"I have always provided the desired lenght as a minimum," he said sourly.

"Well, then you should give a maximum as well. Are you sure you don't want a sandwich?" Snape looked at the essay.

"I might just as well have one," he sighed. "There is no way I will finish reading this anyway." He rubbed the bridge of his nose. The umbrella stand in his dream - large and leg-shaped - that one didn't belong to Malfoy Manor. The study hadn't looked quite right either.

"What time are you leaving for the manor tomorrow?" he asked when Tisha handed him a plate. She looked pointedly at his knee.

"The forecast is good."

"I have something I need to tend to outside Hogwarts. I might as well accompany you outside the wards. After breakfast?"

"After breakfast, then." They ate in silence, Snape mentally preparing for his trip to Grimmauld Place. Feeling grim about the outlook seemed to be the right mindset for the task.

Tisha cleared the table and summonned a house-elf to take away the plates. Then she packed up her books and parchments.

"See you tommorow at breakfast, then," she said lightly. "Good night, Severus."

Snape had about ten minutes left to get ready for the lesson. He considered Granger's essay once more; there was no way - not even a distant possibility - that it included any incorrect information. So - feeling both slightly guilty and immensely relieved - he wrote the full points just above the line Tisha had drawn on it and rolled it up.

He cautiously stood up, gathered the essays, and slowly walked over to his classroom. Granger was already waiting in the corridor. He let her in - she watched him like a hawk, but he couldn't tell if it was because she expected him to keel over, or because he opened the classroom early.

"Miss Granger, here is your essay," he started suddenly. "It was supposed to be three feet long - I took the liberty to mark the desired lenght on it. I believe I was not clear enough but I also expect you not to exceed the assigned lenght by more than a few inches." He paused. Granger's eyes were bulging out. "Since I failed to make it clear enough, I did not dock any points this time," he added generously. Granger glared at him, but said nothing.

He felt better already.

Saturday morning didn't start well. After hours of trying to fall asleep, Snape failed to wake up when he wanted to, and by the time he made it to breakfast, Tisha was already in the Entrance Hall, engaged in a discussion with Greeneye. She waved at him merrily as if to say she was happy to wait, so Snape rushed through the meal and didn't enjoy the raspberry pie properly. Greeneye was still talking to her when Snape returned to the Entrance Hall and was very disappointed that Tisha was leaving.

The little triumph Snape felt over that victory vanished when they happened upon Hagrid en route to the gate. The half-giant had plenty of opportunity to go his way, but stood in their path instead.

"Hagrid." The calculated evenness of Snape's voice took Tisha by suprise. The gigantic groundkeeper didn't look hostile, although there was something she didn't quite catch that crossed his face when he saw them.

"Professors," he replied. "Out fer a walk?" His dog warily approached Tisha, for some reason trying to stay as far away from Snape as possible why doing so, and sniffed at her robes.

"Of a sort," Snape agreed. He moved as if he wanted to grab Tisha's elbow, but let his arm fall down without actually touching her. She noticed, though, and resumed walking to the gate.

Hagrid joined them, calling softly at his dog to follow.

"You did, I understand, an exceedingly good job with the Thestrals," Snape offered when it became obvious Hagrid intented to accompany them. As far as he thought they were going, anyway. The comment made Hagrid start a lenghty speech about how many foals there were and how each of them was doing. He didn't get anywhere near finishing as they reached the gate and Snape unceremoniously unlocked it and practically pushed Tisha outside.

"Thank you for the chat, Hagrid. See you another time," he said, not bothered that he interrupted the half-giant in the middle of a word. He locked the gate behind them and turned to Tisha who was swaying uneasily.

"Severus," she muttered, reaching out blindly.

"Of course." He grabbed her elbow and turned on the spot.

"I needed to go to see... where are we?" Tisha looked around. "Is that Hogsmead?" Snape had Apparated them to the last bend before the village.

"I do remember you wanted to Floo to see your friends first."

"We could have walked." Tisha sounded disappointed.

"Time is Galeons. This way," he pointed towards the village. Snape was not looking forward to the task he set himself for the day and wanted to get it over with. He let Tisha lead him through the streets to the travel agency. The display was centered around a large picture of a tropical holiday resort, with palm trees swinging merrily in a light breeze and ocean washing over a sandy beach. He frowned at the display disapprovingly and followed Tisha inside.

"One Floo trip, please," Tisha said and dropped the money onto the coin plate.

"Make it two," Snape added quickly, rummaging through his pocket for change. "It'll save me a lot of distance," he explained when Tisha turned to him. He was also curious about the place she was going to Floo to, and found it prudent to know where exactly that was. The name should have been enough for a successful Apparition - but as the distance grew, so did the risks.

"Jeff and Myra's Magic Haven," Tisha said clearly and disappeared in a greenish light. Snape followed suit.

The first thing he noticed about the Magic Haven was the disgusting smell of cooked cabbage and bitter beer, which made even the roasted chicken smell mixed with it repulsive. The second thing he noticed, as he stumbled out of the fireplace, was the elderly couple doting on Tisha in an absolutely appaling manner, hugging her and kissing her cheeks.

"Severus!" Tisha cried as if she hadn't expected him. "Come meet Myra and Jeff." She beamed at them - he had never seen her so happy, not even when he had caught glimpses of her when visiting Malfoy Manor nearly twenty years ago. Contemplating that, and wallowing in his bad mood, he failed to put up his defences and ended up being tightly hugged by the woman and clapped on the shoulder by the man. They were both surprisingly strong for their age.

"So this is Severus - such a nice boy!" the woman - Myra - exclaimed. Snape had an uncomfortable feeling that he had been discussed in here. He suddenly wished he had not come along.

"Have a seat and I'll bring the cheese and bread - Myra just made fresh bread," the man addressed Snape and gestured to the table.

"I would love to..." Snape protested, intending to say that he had a busy day ahead of himself, but both Myra and Tisha manoeuvred him to a chair before he could finish the sentence.

Tisha, to her credit, noticed his discomfort and leant close.

"Have something or you'll insult them," she whispered, and after answering Myra's question she could have not possibly heard, she added, "I didn't expect you to come along," apologetically. Snape resigned to his fate and found out that the bread was really good. He now understood why Tisha was so quickly done with the breakfast. He nibbled on his portion, half following the conversation and half waiting for an opening, which appeared about ten minutes in when Myra left to check on something in kitchen. Probably the cabbage.

As Jeff, who had been quiet the whole time, turned to Snape and opened his mouth, Snape stood up.

"I'm terribly sorry," he lied, "but I have someplace to be this morning." He turned to Tisha. "Shall I pick you up at five?" She nodded and stood up to say goodbye. "Very well, see you then, then," he said quickly before she could hug him or kiss his cheek. He turned back to Jeff.

"Is there a designated Apparition spot?" he asked.

"Oh, just out back - let me show you." Jeff leant on the table to help himself up and hobbled out of the room, motioning Snape to follow through the short hall and out into the back yard. It was filled with vegetables, chicken, and cats. There was a thick hedge with a gate shaded by several trees.

"Just here," Jeff pointed under an old oak. "Folks who can see the path going around the house would think you went down to the stream, and the few who can see to the stream would think you went back to the village. No Muggle can see the gate and the decorations on it make a sound sort of like Disapparition." Jeff chuckled, obviously proud of the arrangement.

"Very clever," Snape offered as a way of a compliment. He looked at the gate; it was covered in ugly rubbish that would make a racket when the gate was moved, he expected.

"Right it is, and perfectly safe, too," Jeff exclaimed. "Well, I won't keep you - good journey." He winked, waved towards the gate - supposedly someone could see him where he was standing - and Snape Disapparated without further delay.

He landed just at the top step of 12 Grimmaud Place.

Moody entered the Headmistress' office at half past ten to find it empty. He produced his wand and attempted to scan his surroundings with several reconnaisance spells, with no result other than a complicated structure on one of the cabinets playing a Christmas carol.

"There are quite a few protective spells on my office, Alastor." McGonagall walked in from behind him. "And also this," she waved her hand at the structure still playing music, "I don't really know what it is, it belonged to Albus. I keep thinking there may be use for it yet." She sat down at her desk and motioned for Moody to take a seat, too.

"It's playing a Christmas carol."

"Yes, I think it's a little bit off," she replied calmly. "Coincidentally, I received some sugar canes with our last shipment of sweets, would you care for some?" She produced a little box marked only with a colourful sticker on it. The sticker was upside down. "I believe it's some kind of an advertisement." Moody shook his head.

"I hear there is something going on in the Forbidden Forest," he said gruffly.

"Yes, I asked Hagrid to investigate it."

"Is it a good idea to leave it to him?" Moody said doubtfully. "It could be dangerous."

"Hagrid is highly capable when it comes to dangers of the forest. And quite good with creatures most wizards would find hard to handle," McGonagall reminded him.

"It may not be an animal, Minerva. There are still Death Eaters on the run." The Headmistress walked over to the window and gazed in the direction of the forest.

"Very well," she said finally. "Let's see what Hagrid finds out and go from there - he should be back for lunch. I'm sure he will appreciate your help in either case." She sat back down, looked towards her drinks cabinet and made the conscious choice to grab a sugar cane instead.

"You mean I'm expected to stick it out if it's just a colony of Blast-Ended Skrewts," Moody said unhappily.

"Technically, yes, but Hagrid would already know if it were Blast-Ended Skrewts."

"They are probably mutated," he muttered.

"You were the one who said it may be a Death Eater," McGonagall reminded him. "Perhaps more than one, even. Hagrid could probably handle himself against them, but would he be able to bring them to justice?"

"I'm surprised to see you consider justice a priority for the school." McGonagall laughed.

"Justice is important. But safety is very important when children are concerned. We have just come out of war; we are not yet as safe as we should be, as a school and as a society." She got up again and walked to the window, dropping the rest of the sugar cane in the trash on her way. It was so sickeningly sweet it made her think of Umbridge.

"See, Alastor," she continued, "school is more than just academical education. We are helping to raise the next generation of wizards. If they learn magic, good; but if they fail to learn to be good people as well, what are they going to do with it? If they learn basic duelling, good; but most of our students will never be the kind to fight against a criminal successfully, nor should they. Besides," she added, coming back from her tangent, "your students are aware of your career as an Auror. They sort of expect you to go off into the night and catch Death Eaters like some kind of a superhero."

Moody snorted with laughter.

"Well, enough about that. The Hufflepuff prefects asked for a place where they could hold a dance club. There are halls near their common room that would be suitable, but not all of the participants will be Hufflepuffs; would it be safe for them?"

"Dance club? We have just come out of war."

"Yes, and we survived. Time to celebrate. We're talking thirty to fourty students for each session." McGonagall pulled out a piece of parchment and sketched the first dungeon level with her wand. "Here is the Hufflepuff common room... the kitchens, the Slytherin common room, Potions classroom, these stairs here lead directly to the Entrance Hall. Now, if it's close enough to these stairs and Hufflepuff common room, it should be safe enough to use, I reckon." They studied the crude map for a few minutes.

"There's a fairly spacy hall right here," Moody pointed. "I can check it out tonight after dinner to see how it looks. Although perhaps some place above ground may serve them better. If we remind them to go back to their common room together afterwards - I know they usually go in groups anyway."

McGonagall nodded and marked the place on the parchment. She rolled it up and sat it on the edge of her desk.

"I shall ask Severus about that hall as well." Moody frowned but said nothing. "He has been quite busy researching the shadow. Speaking of which, have you come up with anything new?"

"Nothing yet," Moody was forced to admit. He contemplated asking about Snape's progress but McGonagall continued without a prompt.

"Neither has Severus." She sighed. "Well, we just have to wait it out. In the meantime..."

"... it's nearly time for lunch," Moody offered. "Are you coming?"

"Might as well."

The entrance hall looked exactly as he had remembered, down to the umbrella stand made from a troll leg and the heavy curtains over the portrait of Mrs. Walburga Black. There was nothing indicating how completely the world had changed since he had last visited the place.

Lupin showed him into the dining room, where Moody, Tonks, Charlie Weasley, and Granger were sitting at the table. Lupin sat down next to Tonks and Snape approached the last empty chair. The room was otherwise empty - all other furniture had been removed, it was just the table, the chairs, light fixtures, the windows were covered with heavy curtains, and an empty painting hung on one wall.

"I appreciate what you have done with the room," Snape drawled.

"That's not why we're here, Snape," Moody retorted. His eye was intently watching Snape's face; the magical one followed movements of someone above them. "And you should know I still don't trust you."

"Mad-Eye," Tonks intoned wearily.

"How do we know you are really who you say you are?" Moody continued.

"Mad-Eye," Weasley said as if trying to warn him. Snape stood behind his appointed chair - the only chair with its back to the door, he noticed - and gripped the top of the backrest.

"I could be asking that question myself," Snape snarled, staring Moody down, unsure whether Moody thought he was an impostor or a traitor trying to buy his way back into their trust. "You have a history of having been replaced with a clever trickster using Polyjuice." Moody made a sound as if he were choking and produced his wand. Snape's wand slipped in his own hand before he could consider whether it was a good idea.

"Mad-Eye!" Lupin snapped. "You know better than that. And you, Severus." Snape lowered his wand.

"Where is Potter?" he asked. "He should be involved. Or are you still operating under the asinine assumption that the Boy Wonder will do as he is told?" Moody scoffed. Lupin looked defeated. Granger waved her hand like she was raising it at school.

"He's busy," she said. "But I will fill him in later."

"Busy."

"You have your orders, Pro... Mister Snape." She cocked her head. "Harry has his. Yes, I have seen the memory, too," she added. Snape considered the information. More than anything, he was tired of the small talk.

"Then we can proceed to something actually productive." Granger nodded and he noticed she was ready to take notes; Moody, however, still held his wand ready.

"Memories can be fabricated," he said slowly. "It's easier than to really change sides."

"Mad-Eye!" said Tonks, Weasley, and Lupin at the same time, but the old Auror continued.

"Some stains can never be removed. People don't really change, do they?"

"You sound like Barty Crouch," Snape retorted. Moody recoiled as if he had been slapped.

"Then maybe that Death Eater was right," he shot back. "It takes one to know one, they say. Crouch certainly knew you. You two were close Dark Arts buddies, weren't you? But there's a price for playing with Dark Arts."

"I have paid the price!"

"You don't come back from that, you..."

"I have paid. I have... EXPECTO PATRONUM!" A silver doe shot out of Snape's wand, circled the room, and ran out of the door, perhaps in search of a Dementor to chase. Tonks and Granger nodded at each other, Lupin furrowed his brow in thought, and Moody nearly dropped his wand in shock.

"To business, then," Snape said after a moment of silence and sat down.

Presently, Snape stared into the empty room. Thus had begun his third run as a double agent; with no Dumbledore to keep everyone in line, the meetings had been riddled with underlining tensions and the whole thing only lasted for a few months. Potter and his two closest friends had been doing their own very secret thing, which also hadn't helped, so shortly before Halloween, Moody had stormed out, taking with him the rest of the Order of Phoenix. Snape had not been contacted again by either fraction until Potter tracked him in his own house. That was, it turned out, by sheer luck - he had learned about Snape's childhood home from Petunia.

Snape stepped forward and without warning, his knee gave out. He grabbed a chair to steady himself and took a deep breath; for a moment, he thought he would see Moody sitting at the other side of the table. Unable to escape the room physically for now, he let his mind venture to older memories. He first visited Black Manor when Regulus was about to join Death Eaters. Walburga scrutinised the then young potioneer minutely before asking him to have a seat. She was mostly silent when her husband led the conversation, but it was clear by the looks he shared with his wife that she was the one who had come up with the questions. Regulus joined them after a while, a little nervous but quite excited. No mention was made of his brother whatsoever; it was like he was an only child.

The Blacks took liking to Snape and he was invited over a few more times, mostly it was the father who wanted to discuss Dark Arts and politics. Snape wasn't that much interested in the conversations, but was flattered by the attention and above all other, intriqued by the books the older wizard would pull off the shelves occassionaly.

"Which brings us here right now," Snape said and tried to stand upright again. The knee hurt a bit, but he could walk, and he headed for the stairs. Soon he stood before the old bookcase; it was empty.

He swore quietly. Remembering that he was alone in the house, he swore again but loudly.

"THIEF!"

He spun around, pulling out his wand. The house was supposed to be empty, but there he was... a house elf.

Of course there was a house elf. There had always been an elf in the house. Fortunately for Snape, his mind had acquired ability to remember names with years of teaching.

"Kreacher?" Snape asked in disbelief. The elf seemed different - cleaner, definitely - but it was the same one as three years ago.

"What is you doing here?" the elf asked and raised his hands angrily. Snape could hear the magic crackle in the air. He hastily replaced his wand.

"I'm Professor Snape. I was here many times before, perhaps you remember?"

"Kreacher remembers. You helped Master Harry, he said, before he went away." The elf lowered his hands and the magical tension in the air dissipated. Snape took it as a good sign and thanked his lucky star that Potter decided to mention him favourably in front of the elf.

"I am looking for an old book I saw here years ago. What happened to all the books, Kreacher?" The elf shook his head.

"Master Harry got rid of them. They were nasty. Master Harry said Master Regulus wouldn't want Kreacher around such nasty things." Snape swore again, this time mentally. He needed to find out what happened to the books. Destroying them wasn't an easy task; besides, not all of them were Dark Arts. The one he was after certainly wasn't.

"Did he find all of them nasty? Kreacher?" he asked carefully. "Some of them, I think, Po... uhm, Master Harry could have found useful for his work."

"Master Harry was so good," Kreacher mumbled and sat down. All of sudden he seemed weary and old.

"Yes, good and industrious," Snape pressed. "He worked very, very hard, didn't he?" Merlin knew how the elf became so fond of Potter, but Snape would be damned if he couldn't use it for his advantage.

"Oh, you is right," Kreacher wailed pitifully. To Snape's horror, his eyes welled up and he started rocking back and forth. "Master Harry worked so hard for justice for all elves, just like Master Regulus, and now they are both gone, GONE!"

Snape stared at the bawling elf. He was probably not of any use - certainly not in this state. Clearly, he stayed here alone again after Potter's death, and whatever miracle the Golden Trio pulled to get him on his side, it wasn't enough to keep his sanity from detoriating once he was left to his own devices. Solitude was not good for house elves. He needed to find his new master if he wanted to get anything out of the elf.

Potter, as far as Snape was aware, didn't leave a will. So his possession - the manor with the elf, for example - would go to his next of kin. And who was his next of kin?

"Petunia," Snape growled with disgust. Well, she probably lived still at the same place.

"Kreacher," he said clearly. The elf looked up. "Let me take you to Master Harry's aunt."

"Master's aunt?" Kreacher asked with doubt.

"Yes, his mother's sister." Snape pushed back the raw emotion that swelled within him as he remembered the two girls - Lily as a child, playing with Petunia - and extended his hand so the elf could take it.

A/N: I wanted to do for Kreacher what JKR did for him in the canon. I think he deserves that.