CHAPTER - 12

"So, he is faring well, then?"

Snape nodded from where he sat in the plush armchair across from Albus' desk. He sipped his coffee and closed his eyes for a moment, savoring the bitterness of the liquid.

"Yes," Severus said. "Are you sure it was wise to tell him about Elle? And about me being a spy?"

Albus' eyes twinkled, a small smile tugging at his lips.

"Harry can be trusted, Severus," Albus replied. A shadow of sadness passed over his face. "I've kept many things from him. I don't wish to make that mistake anymore."

"I thought I made it clear years ago that no one should know what I do," Severus said, his tone sharp as he shot the headmaster a glare.

"I think we chucked that rule out the window when Elle turned up on your doorstep," Albus countered. "It was bound to come out."

Severus rolled his eyes. "His friends… he might want to share these details with them."

"About Elle? No, he won't disclose that. About you being on our side… Ron and Hermione have already seen you in Order meetings, Severus."

"They don't know where my loyalties lie, and that's what fuels this whole war," Severus said, his voice rising.

"Would you say Harry trusts you?"

Snape snorted. "I wouldn't go that far."

Albus nodded somberly and stroked his beard thoughtfully.

"What are you thinking?" Severus asked, reluctant but unable to help himself.

"Something is amiss with Harry. He doesn't show his feelings—we've established that—but I believe he's holding onto something else."

Severus leaned forward, his expression guarded. "And you want me to find out what that is?"

"If you would be so kind."

"Albus, thanks to Elle, I already host the boy in my quarters three times a week," Severus said, rolling his eyes. "I've spoken to him on occasion, but he refuses to confide in me. Perhaps you—or Lupin—might have better luck."

"He wouldn't open up to me," Albus admitted, shaking his head. "Remus, however, is still distraught. He wants to talk to Harry but hasn't been able to bring himself to do it."

"He blames the boy?" Severus asked, his voice laced with barely suppressed anger.

"Oh, absolutely not," Albus said at once. "He just needs time to deal with his grief, I'm afraid."

Severus didn't look convinced but nodded anyway.

"Harry and Elle have gotten close," Albus commented, almost offhandedly.

"I'm not surprised," Severus said, leaning back in his chair. "Elle is a friendly child, and Potter seems to have a way with children."

"I told you so."

"Yes, you did," Severus admitted grudgingly. "He enjoys spending time with her."

"Keep him close, Severus," Albus said cryptically.

Severus narrowed his eyes. "What does that mean?"

"Just what it's meant to mean."

Severus scoffed, setting down his cup. "You always speak in riddles, Albus. If you have something to say, say it plainly."

Albus smiled but didn't reply immediately. Instead, he rose from his seat and crossed to the window, gazing out over the grounds of Hogwarts.

"Harry has been through a great deal in the past year," Albus finally said. "The loss of Sirius has hit him harder than he lets on, and I suspect there is more beneath the surface—more than grief."

"Guilt," Severus said bluntly.

"Yes," Albus agreed softly. "And anger. Harry feels the weight of the world on his shoulders, Severus, and he's still so young."

"Spare me the sentimental lecture," Severus said, though his tone lacked its usual venom. "What exactly do you want me to do?"

"Be there," Albus said simply. "Listen when he speaks, even if he doesn't say much at first. Sometimes, knowing someone is willing to hear you makes all the difference."

Severus grimaced. "You want me to play counselor? To Potter?"

Albus chuckled. "Not quite. Just… let him see that he doesn't have to bear everything alone. You've already taken a step in the right direction by allowing him into Elle's life."

"That wasn't my choice," Severus muttered, his dark eyes narrowing. "You orchestrated that."

"And it has worked out better than you expected, hasn't it?"

Severus didn't reply, but his silence spoke volumes.

"Harry cares for Elle," Albus continued. "And she, in turn, has brought out a side of him that we rarely see—a gentler, more protective side."

"That doesn't change who he is," Severus said. "Or what he's destined to do."

"No, it doesn't," Albus agreed. "But it may give him the strength to see it through."

Severus leaned back in his chair, his expression unreadable. He stared at the fireplace, watching the flames dance and crackle.

"He's a foolhardy boy," Severus said after a long silence. "And reckless. But…" He hesitated, as though the next words were physically painful to say. "Perhaps there is more to him than I've given him credit for."

Albus' smile widened, though he kept his gaze fixed on the snowy grounds outside. "There always has been, Severus. You've just been too stubborn to see it."

Severus huffed but didn't argue. Instead, he drained the last of his coffee and rose from his seat.

"If there's nothing else, I'll take my leave," he said curtly.

"Of course," Albus said, turning back to him. "Thank you for indulging an old man's ramblings."

Severus inclined his head, his expression still carefully neutral, and swept out of the office.

As the door closed behind him, Albus returned to his desk, a pensive look on his face. He hoped—prayed—that Severus would heed his words. The boy needed someone, and whether Severus realized it or not, he was one of the few who could truly understand the burdens Harry carried.

In the quiet of his office, Albus whispered to himself, "Perhaps there's hope for them both."

/

Harry groaned as a headache pulsed behind his eyes. Pulling off his glasses, he rubbed his tired, dry eyes. Sleep had evaded him for nights, and his body was beginning to protest. With a weary sigh, he slid his glasses back on and dragged The Secret of Dark Arts closer, scanning the familiar text on Horcruxes once more. The repetitive reading hadn't helped—the question of how Nagini could be a Horcrux remained unanswered. Frustration surged as he slammed the book shut and shoved it into his bag.

Pacing out of the library, Harry squinted at the brilliant sunlight pouring into the courtyard. It was a perfect day for flying, and though his Firebolt called to him, his swirling thoughts kept him grounded. Reaching the Gryffindor common room, he flung his bag onto his bed and picked up the broom. His fingers ran over the polished handle, a bittersweet smile tugging at his lips. Sirius' gift. Even now, it felt like a piece of his godfather lingered with him.

Moments later, he was in the air, the rush of wind and the warmth of the sun enveloping him. Harry inhaled deeply, letting the weight of his worries dissipate with each beat of his broom. He soared over the castle, through the Quidditch hoops, and executed maneuvers fromQuidditch Through the Ages. Each loop and dive brought him a fleeting sense of freedom. Hovering above the grounds, he glanced at the castle—a tiny fortress from his vantage—and allowed himself a rare moment of peace. From here, everything seemed small. Insignificant.

His gaze drifted, and he spotted Snape and Elle by the Black Lake. Curiosity flared, but he held back, deciding to observe from a distance. Snape's robes were rolled to his knees, his typically stern expression softer as he helped Elle into the shallows. The girl clung tightly to his hand, her giggles carrying across the water. Harry's eyebrows lifted as Snape splashed her, earning an indignant squeal followed by a dramatic retaliation that soaked him. A rare, unguarded moment played out as Snape lifted Elle and pretended to toss her into the lake, eliciting more laughter.

The sight brought a bittersweet ache to Harry's chest. He missed Sirius, Remus, and his parents more keenly than ever. The father-daughter bond he witnessed tugged at something deep within him. Steering his Firebolt away, Harry let the winds carry him, though the scene lingered in his thoughts. Returning to the castle, he landed by the Entrance Hall, his heart heavier than before.

/

Emerging from the shower, Harry stifled a yawn. His morning had been grueling, with Snape's biting critiques and punishing exercises pushing him to the brink. The lack of sleep and skipped meals weren't helping either. Dressed in jeans, he winced as his knee protested the motion. The bruising—a remnant of an earlier mishap—throbbed despite Snape's salve.

He ran a hand through his damp hair, which stubbornly refused to lie flat, grabbed his bag, and hurried out of the common room. Dobby had set a plate for him, and Harry inhaled the food, barely tasting it before heading toward Dumbledore's office.

"Raspberry tarts," he muttered to the gargoyle. The passage opened, and Harry ascended, knocking softly on the ornate door.

"Come in," Dumbledore's voice called warmly. The headmaster sat behind his desk, nursing a cup of tea. "Harry! Do join me."

"Good morning, Professor," Harry said, taking a seat. He was surprised when Dumbledore handed him a cup of coffee. How did the man know his preference?

"How have you been, my boy?" Dumbledore asked, his blue eyes twinkling.

Harry shrugged. "I'm fine."

"And how are things with Professor Snape?"

Harry hesitated, considering his answer. "They've been… fine," he said, though his tone suggested otherwise. "Elle's a delight, though."

"Ah, yes. The girl speaks quite highly of you," Dumbledore said with a smile. "Professor Snape is grateful for your kindness toward her."

Harry raised a skeptical brow. "Grateful? Snape? That's a new one."

"He's a man of many layers," Dumbledore said knowingly.

"He told me he's a spy. Is that true?" Harry asked, his voice low.

Dumbledore regarded him carefully. "Why would it not be?"

Harry fidgeted. "I mean, he's always acted like he's… well, on the Dark side."

"Wouldn't a spy need to?" Dumbledore asked gently.

Harry frowned. "It's hard to trust someone who's… hated me."

Dumbledore's expression softened. "Understandable. But trust is built in small steps, Harry."

Harry let the words sink in, then pulled a book from his bag and placed it on the desk. "I've read this several times. I get the cup, the ring… but Nagini? Can you even make a living Horcrux?"

Dumbledore steepled his fingers. "The creation of Horcruxes is not a well-documented art. Few have dared to attempt it, and even fewer have succeeded. Riddle's ambition is unprecedented."

"So we don't know?" Harry said, frustration mounting. "We don't know if Nagini is one. We don't know if there are seven. We don't know anything!"

Dumbledore's calm voice cut through Harry's outburst. "We know enough to act. We start with what we can confirm."

Harry's leg bounced anxiously. "It feels like you're still hiding something from me."

"Why do you feel that?" Dumbledore asked, his tone infuriatingly neutral.

"Don't answer my question with another question," Harry snapped. "If there's more, tell me."

Dumbledore's gaze lingered. "I have shared all I know, Harry."

The parchment listing the Horcruxes felt like a flimsy lead, and Harry's frustration boiled over. "We need to destroy these… now," he said. "What about the Gaunt ring?"

"An excellent place to start," Dumbledore said. "Shall we make a trip this Saturday?"

Harry nodded. "Fine. But you better have a plan to destroy it."

Dumbledore's smile was enigmatic. "I have a theory."

/

Harry's feet carried him to the dungeons, an impulse driving him to seek company. Knocking softly, he entered Snape's office. Elle was perched in Snape's chair, scribbling in a notebook while Snape hunched over lesson plans in the student's seat.

"Good morning, Professor," Harry said, nodding to Elle, who waved enthusiastically.

"Hi, Harry!" she chirped.

Snape glanced up. "Sit, Potter." He gestured to the chair beside him. Harry obliged, eyeing the parchment-laden desk.

"Lesson plans?" Harry asked.

Snape's lips twitched. "Contrary to popular belief, teachers do have homework."

Elle groaned. "Dad's making me do homework, too."

Harry chuckled. "What are you working on?"

"Math," Elle replied, her tone sour.

Harry grimaced. "Ugh, math. Not my favorite either." He leaned closer, spotting the equations in her muggle notebook. "Need any help?"

Elle brightened. "You're good at it?"

Harry hesitated, then grinned. "Good enough to lend a hand."

As Harry and Elle delved into her homework, Snape's quill scratched across his parchment. The sound was a steady backdrop to their quiet conversation and occasional laughter. Snape's sharp ears caught snippets of Harry explaining fractions in a surprisingly patient tone.

Half an hour passed before Snape's attention was drawn by a stifled giggle. Looking up, he found Elle perched in Harry's lap, the pair huddled over her notebook. Snape arched a brow, watching as they whispered conspiratorially and snickered at something.

"Care to share the joke?" Snape drawled, his voice breaking their bubble.

Harry froze, glancing guiltily at Elle. The girl, however, had no qualms about spilling the secret. "We drew you!" she announced, bursting into laughter.

Snape's gaze narrowed as he leaned over and plucked the notebook from the desk. His eyes scanned the page, landing on a crooked doodle of himself hunched over his work, tiny bats flapping around his head.

"Bats, Potter?" Snape said, his tone dry. "How original."

Elle piped up, "It was Harry's idea!"

Harry gaped at her. "Traitor!" he declared before tickling her mercilessly.

Elle shrieked with laughter, squirming out of his grasp and darting toward the adjoining quarters. Snape watched her go, his lips twitching despite himself.

"Children," he muttered, shaking his head.

Harry leaned back in his chair, rubbing the back of his neck. "She's great, you know. You've done a good job with her."

Snape stilled, caught off guard by the genuine compliment. He studied Harry for a moment before returning to his papers. "She has her moments."

A comfortable silence settled between them until Snape broke it. "Something on your mind, Potter?"

Harry hesitated, then shrugged. "Are you staying at Hogwarts because of me?"

Snape's quill paused. "What makes you think that?"

"Well, I just…" Harry trailed off, struggling to articulate his thoughts. "I mean, you don't have to stay. You probably have a life outside of all this."

Snape rolled his eyes. "Your ego never ceases to astound me, Potter."

Harry bristled. "I'm just trying to say—"

"I stay because it is my duty," Snape interrupted. "To the school, to its students, and—unfortunately—to you."

"Unfortunately?" Harry shot back, though his voice lacked venom.

Snape smirked. "Don't let it go to your head."

Harry slumped in his chair, his leg bouncing nervously. "Term starts soon."

"And?"

"Nothing," Harry muttered and stood up.

"What has gotten you more scattered than normal, Potter?"

"I'm not scattered." Harry defended himself weakly. "I'm just wondering, if it's going to be an interesting year." He said and moved towards the door.

"We haven't had a dull one in five years, Mr. Potter." Snape said, a faint trace of humor in his tone.

Harry rolled his eyes as he opened the office door and stepped out.

"Good evening, Professor." He said and left, not really expecting a reply.

A/N - Don't forget to leave a review! It makes me update quickly!