The Slytherin common room was filled with anxious excitement, as everyone waited for news of the troll. Harry had barely touched his food, his legs all jittery, and his fork tapping against the edge of his plate.

The common room door opened, and Professor Snape stepped inside, holding up a hand for silence, as the entire house stepped forward, and opened their mouths to ask questions.

"The troll is dead. Finish eating here, and do not go wandering off alone, but it should be safe."

"What happened?" Terrence Higgs asked, offering Professor Snape an arm. Harry realized that the professor was hurt.

"It's nothing. I got a bit scraped up in the fight, but it is superficial. Nothing a quick potion won't fix. Everyone made it down here, alright?"

"Yes, Sir," Higgs said. "All present and accounted for."

"Good. A Gryffindor got cornered and attacked. She'll be fine, but her reckless stupidity should be a lesson to all of you that foolhardy courage does more harm than good. Several professors had to put themselves in danger to rescue her, rather than take the troll on methodically and safely. Twenty points to Slytherin for following orders, and not taking stupid chances, I suppose."

"Sir, are you sure you're alright? Do you need to sit for a moment?"

"I'm fine, Higgs. I've a potion in my office, and I'm heading there now. Mr. Potter? Come with me, I need to talk to you."

The other Slytherins oohed and jeered as Harry put down his uneaten food and followed Professor Snape out into the hall.

"You fought the troll, Sir?" he asked.

"I did."

"Were you the one who killed it?"

Professor Snape gave a small, satisfied smirk. "I was."

"Wicked. Was it scary?"

"Potter?"

"Yeah?"

"Shut up. We're almost to my office."

"Yes, Sir."

Harry followed Professor Snape the rest of the way in silence, twining his fingers together and looking at the portraits as they passed. He waved to a few of them, and most waved or nodded back, but two or three merely sniffed at him disdainfully, or pointedly wandered out of frame.

Harry tried not to let it bother him, to be snubbed by the dead. He had enough to contend with, with the living.

"Take a seat, Potter," Professor Snape said, gesturing to a pair of chairs positioned in front of his desk. He rummaged in one of the desk drawers, and pulled out a potion.

Harry hurried to sit, leaning forward eagerly.

"Can you tell what this potion is, just by looking at it?" Professor Snape asked.

Harry peered at it closely. "No, Sir. It's a common color and consistency. Given your limp, though, and your promise to Higgs to take something for it, I'd say it's a pain reliever. I don't know if you're cut, bruised, or sprained something, but all of those are treated with spells, not potions, aren't they?"

"Five points to Slytherin. It's a minor injury. No point in bothering Madam Pomphrey before morning. Do you know why I asked you here, Potter?"

Harry grinned and scooted forward in his seat. "Because I've finally earned it, Sir."

Professor Snape downed the pain potion, and gave Harry an odd look. "Earned what, exactly?"

"The right to talk to you, again, Sir!"

Professor Snape sank slowly into the seat behind his desk, his dark eyes bright and penetrating. "Explain."

"Well," Harry hesitated, suddenly unsure, and hoping he wasn't about to make an arse of himself, "you said you wouldn't give me anything I didn't earn, once we got here, a-and you spoke with me, or wrote rather, all the time during the summer, but you never speak to me outside of class, now, so I figured I had to earn it. Did I get it wrong? Have I not done enough, yet?"

Professor Snape cradled his head in his hands, making Harry shrink back in on himself. Had he said the wrong thing? "Potter. Harry. You do not need to earn an audience with me. I am sorry for giving you that impression. I've been busy, and I've had a lot on my mind. I am… worried about what certain people with think of both of us, if I give you more attention than any other student, but my office hours are posted in the Slytherin common room, and you are always welcome to come here if you need to talk. Is that understood?"

"Yes, Sir. Well no, not really, Sir. But office hours, I can do that, thanks."

"Good. You know what day it is today, Potter?"

"It's Halloween, Sir."

"And do you know what that means?"

"Not really, Sir. The Dursleys always felt funny about Halloween. They didn't even let Dudley celebrate it. They just bought him candy and had him stay home and watch movies. Does it mean something special to wizards, Sir?"

"You don't need to be quite so polite all the time, Potter. Relax. I'm not going to kick you out, if you forget to call me Sir with every single breath. Halloween is the day that the Dark Lord, You-Know-Who, was defeated. It has added a layer of celebration, above the traditional roots of the holiday, for many people."

Harry gasped. "It's the night… the night it all happened? It's the night my- they died?"

"It is. It is always a difficult night for me. I light a candle for your mother, every year. I thought you might like to join me."

"You'd really let me?"

"I would. You deserve the chance to grieve, Potter. Your aunt lied to you about your parents all of your life. I imagine you've never really had the chance to properly mourn them."

Harry's hands were trembling. He clasped them tightly together, and tried to look casual, "I don't want to impose."

"You are not an imposition, Harry. I invited you here."

"Okay."

Professor Snape set up a small, white candle, and a little framed picture of Harry's mum. "I don't have a picture of your father," Professor Snape muttered.

"That's okay, Sir."

"Do you want to say something to her?"

"I… I don't know what to say."

"Would you like me to go first?"

Harry nodded mutely.

Professor Snape spoke softly, "Hey Lils. I miss you, and I'm so, so sorry, for everything. I wish… well, it's too late to matter what I wish. I met your son a couple months ago. He's a good boy, Lils. You would be so proud of him. I'll keep him safe for you, I promise."

Tears stung Harry's eyes, as Professor Snape guided him forward. "Hi mum. I love you. I wish I knew more about you, and dad. Professor Snape told me stories about you, over the summer. I'm very proud to be your son. I hope I can learn to be worthy of your sacrifice. I miss you, so much."

A strong arm wrapped around Harry's shoulders, and a sharp sob ripped from his throat. "That was good, Harry," Professor Snape murmured. "You did well."

"I'm sorry," Harry said, wiping furiously at his eyes. "I didn't mean to lose it like that."

"It's alright. Your relatives never really gave you the chance to grieve. It's natural for things to spill over."

"But its stupid! I never even knew them."

"They were stolen from you, Harry. You should have known them, and that loss is very real. You're not weak."

"I just wish I knew why it happened. Why did they have to die?"

"Oh, Harry. That is a very complicated question."

"I know. I've been trying to figure it out, but none of it makes any sense!"

"Hatred doesn't abide by the rules of logic, Harry."

Harry was quiet, staring at his mother's candle, as the wick burned down, while plastering himself to Professor Snape's side. "Sir? Did Avery's parents die during the war?"

Professor Snape stiffened. "Why do you ask?"

Harry shrugged. "He hates me. Some of the other Slytherins have been trying to explain why they believe the things they do, but he seems to think he doesn't need a reason."

"Avery's father was a Death Eater, who was captured early in the war, when Avery was just a baby, and died in Azkaban. His mother is still alive, but she was injured during the ministry raid that led to her husband's arrest. She lives a very reclusive life, these days. Avery now lives with his uncle, who was at school with your parents and I. He is one of the wizards who claimed to be under the imperius curse, and avoided prison, after the war, but when we were at school together, he certainly sounded and acted like a true believer."

"Like what people say about Mister Malfoy?"

"Exactly."

"Do you think he really wants to kill me?"

"You mean Avery?"

"Yeah."

"Killing is not an easy thing, Potter. And yet, it is entirely too easy. It is very possible that the desire or impulse to see you dead is there. There is a difference, though, between wanting a thing in passing, and working hard to see a thing come to pass. That is a war that Mr. Avery will have to fight within himself. Only he can decide what he will become capable of doing."

"Have you ever killed anyone, Sir?"

"I have."

"In the war?"

"I… yes. In the war."

"I'm sorry."

"It is hardly your fault, child."

"I'm still sorry that it happened. I wish no one had to die."

Candlelight flickered in Professor Snape's somber gaze. "So do I."