CHAPTER - 13

The air was thick with the smell of decay as Harry and Dumbledore approached the desolate shack that once belonged to the Gaunt family. The trees around them loomed ominously, their bare branches reaching out like skeletal fingers. Harry's mind, however, was elsewhere. Snape was at the top of it. It was hard to reconcile the cruel, cold Potions Master with the notion of him as a father. And it was weird to think he was sitting and joking with the man just last night.

"Are you alright, Harry?" Dumbledore's voice broke through his thoughts as they reached the entrance of the dilapidated house. "You seem quiet."

"Yeah," Harry muttered, forcing himself to focus. "Just... thinking."

"About Severus, I imagine," Dumbledore said, his tone unreadable.

Harry looked at him sharply. It was as if Dumbledore could see straight into his mind. "Not exactly," he mumbled, feeling the weight of Elle's presence in his thoughts again. He didn't want to talk about Snape—not now, not when they were about to face something potentially dangerous. And yet, Dumbledore's words lingered in the air, inviting him to open up.

"You know, Severus has carried more burdens than most," Dumbledore continued softly as he pushed open the creaky door, leading them into the gloom of the shack. "Being a father to young Elle is not one of them. She is, in many ways, his light."

Harry's grip tightened on his wand, trying to shove aside the uncomfortable feelings welling up inside him. What was Dumbledore getting at?

"I'm just not sure why he told me," Harry muttered. "It's not like he's ever cared about me, and he never wanted me to know about her, either." Harry, of course, suspected Dumbledore's involvement in that but didn't comment on it.

Dumbledore stopped and turned to face him, his blue eyes twinkling faintly in the darkness. "Perhaps, Harry, because you are the only one who could ever understand Severus in ways others cannot. He trusts you despite everything that has passed between you two."

Harry frowned. Trust? It was hard to believe Snape trusted him with anything, much less something as important as Elle. The thought of being any kind of role model, or worse, a protective older brother to Snape's daughter, made him uneasy. Elle was innocent, but she was Snape's, and Harry had spent the better part of his life believing Snape was his enemy.

"Trust me?" Harry's voice was harsher than he intended. "He spent years hating me, doing everything he could to make my life miserable just because I look like my father. I know his school life wasn't ideal, but he's not exactly making mine a peach either, is he?"

"And yet, people are not always what they seem, Harry," Dumbledore said softly, resuming his slow walk toward the far side of the shack. "Severus has lived a life of sacrifices, often in silence and secrecy. He may not show it in the ways you might expect, but his affection for Elle is real, and you, more than anyone, could understand the weight of caring for those who rely on you."

Harry stared at the back of Dumbledore's silver-haired head, trying to process his words. Snape, caring for people? It seemed absurd. And yet, the memory of Elle, with her dark hair and shy smile, softened his frustration. There was something about her—something vulnerable—that made him want to protect her, even if that meant dealing with Snape.

But could he? Snape had hated him for so long. Could Harry even begin to build a relationship with Elle without feeling like he was intruding on Snape's territory?

"I don't know," Harry said, shaking his head. "I don't know if I can be anything to her."

"Sometimes, it is not about being anything to someone," Dumbledore replied, his voice almost a whisper now as he stopped in front of a small wooden box on the floor. "It is simply about being there when it matters most."

Harry didn't have a chance to respond before Dumbledore opened the box, revealing the cursed ring nestled within it. It was an ugly thing, with a large black stone set into a tarnished band. Harry's unease grew as he looked at it, but he couldn't explain why.

"We've found it," Dumbledore said, his voice tinged with both awe and melancholy.

Harry felt a chill down his spine as he stared at the ring. Something about it was off, though he didn't know exactly what.

"Something's not right," Harry said, and suddenly his scar burst open with pain. "Professor! I think we should leave." Harry said as he closed his eyes in pain, which just kept increasing. He looked at Dumbledore, but the man was too entranced in the ring, which he was now examining in his fingers.

He was about to warn Dumbledore to be careful when, without hesitation, the old wizard reached down and slipped the ring onto his finger.

"No—!" Harry started to shout, but it was too late.

For a moment, everything stood still, and then Harry saw it—the terrible curse spreading through Dumbledore's hand, turning his flesh black and withered. Dumbledore staggered back, clutching his arm, and Harry's heart pounded in his chest.

"Professor!" he shouted, rushing to Dumbledore's side, but Dumbledore held up a hand to stop him.

"Harry," Dumbledore said weakly, "destroy the ring... the Sword..."

The Sword of Gryffindor appeared suddenly as if called to him by magic. Without thinking, Harry grabbed it and brought it down hard on the cursed ring which now law a few inches away from Dumbledore, shattering it into pieces. The ring exploded with a burst of dark energy, and Harry stumbled back, his heart racing. The black smoke went through him, and Harry felt the dark energy surrounding him. He felt the trickle of blood down his face and touched his scar before hissing in pain.

He turned to Dumbledore, who had collapsed onto the ground, his face pale and his cursed hand still trembling. Panic surged through Harry as he knelt beside him.

"I need to get you back to Hogwarts," Harry said, his voice shaking. "We need help."

Dumbledore's eyes, though full of pain, sparkled with a faint glimmer of understanding. "Yes," he whispered, "Severus can help."

Harry wasted no time. He conjured a makeshift stretcher and hurried Dumbledore out of the shack, his mind racing. He didn't know what kind of magic Snape could use to help Dumbledore, but he knew one thing for certain: if anyone could save him now, it was Snape.

As they hurried through the dark forest, Harry wondered how they would get to Hogwarts in the first place. He thought about whether his panic could kick in and activate his accidental magic, apparating them both the hell out of there.

"Professor, how do we-" He started but saw that Dumbledore was already getting off the stretcher. "What are you doing?"

"You cannot apparate yet." He said in a raspy voice as Harry helped the older man stand. "Stay close, and try to give me some strength, lest I leave any one or both of us getting splinched."

Before Harry could ask what on earth getting splinched meant, Dumbledore grabbed him close, and he felt the familiar, tight sensation. He struggled with all his might to escape the suffocating, tunnel-like feeling constricting his body before both of them were flung onto the floor of Dumbledore's office.

Harry groaned as he stood up and immediately searched for Dumbledore, who was lying still a little away from Harry.

"Professor!" He called loudly as he rushed to the man's side and knelt beside him. Dumbledore's eyes were closed, but he very softly whispered only one – 'Severus.'

"Yes, yes, I'm getting him." Before Harry could stand up, though, Dumbledore caught his hand in his good one and forced him down.

"Do not…mention… Horcrux."

Harry looked at the man and gulped visibly instead of answering. 'Well, how the hell am I supposed to explain this then?' He thought dreadfully as he put in some floo powder and put his head in the fire.

Snape's living quarters appeared in his vision.

"Snape!" Harry called out, and the man immediately ran out from the kitchen, his face sporting a huge scowl, Elle following after him.

"Potter?" He asked as confusion reflected on his face. "What is the meaning of this?"

"It's Dumbledore, come quick! In his office!" Harry said, his words coming out faster than the London tube. Snape's face turned into panic mode as he summoned a small briefcase.

"Elle, stay here!" He said as the girl nodded and looked at Harry in the same panic expression Snape wore.

"Move!" He barked at Harry, and as soon as Harry had taken his head out of the grate, Snape stumbled in, almost knocking the young boy on his arse.

Harry watched as the man rushed to Dumbledore's side and quickly positioned him so that he was leaning against the nearby tea table.

"It's his hand," Harry said, however uselessly, as Snape had already taken the limb and was examining it. "Is he fine? Is it bad?"

"Quiet, Potter." Snape hissed at him before taking out his wand. He started muttering many curses that were stranger to Harry's ears. He sat on his heels on the other side of Dumbledore, just watching the both of them.

"What happened to him?" He asked, but Snape did not reply. His eyes were closed, and he was still chanting a bunch of spells. Harry watched in fascination as the black lines on Dumbledore's hand started to retreat from his upper hand and towards the fingers. He almost thought they would disappear, but they stopped, leaving half of the older wizard's hand black and burnt.

After almost 15 minutes, Snape opened his eyes and fell back on his heels, panting. He examined the hand again before dropping it. He closed his eyes for a second and looked up at Harry.

Harry visibly shrank back at the fire and anger present there. He gulped. He had not seen this angry version of Snape for the whole of the summer. He sighed and looked at Dumbledore, whose eyes were now opened and looking at Snape.

"Severus…help me back to my quarters." He said softly. Snape didn't respond but kept glaring at Harry for a few seconds before helping the man stand up. Harry scrambled to his feet, but one look at Snape, and he stepped back, allowing both the older men to pass through a small door at the back of the office.

He contemplated as he paced the office. Should he leave? Maybe hide for a few days. He did not want to be the subject of Snape's ire. Harry pulled at his hair as he paced, this was terrible. He desperately wanted to go back to his dorm and just smoke the whole packet of cigarettes he had just gotten last night.

His decision was made for him as the door opened, and Snape strode out. Harry watched as the man made a beeline towards him, and he backed away. He saw Snape raise his hand, and Harry instinctively put his hands up to cover his face.

Snape froze in his actions, and Harry peeked through his hands as he saw the man take his hands down.

"I won't hurt you, Potter. Not physically, anyway." He spoke. Harry slowly brought his hands down, face flushed with embarrassment.

"I know that." He said softly before adding an afterthought. "What do you mean 'not physically'?"

"Oh, you will know. Sit. Down." Snape hissed at him and kicked the nearest chair towards the boy.

Harry tentatively sat and tried to make up a story as to how he could explain all this to Snape.

"How is Dumbledore?" He asked, biding for time.

Snape took a seat opposite to him, his posture revealing how tensed the man was. He gave Harry a calculating look before speaking.

"He is…alive." He spoke.

"What kind of an answer is that?" Harry said with mirthless laughter.

"You are in no position to be demanding answers from me, Potter." Snape snapped. "First, you answer a few questions of mine. Where were you both this evening?"

Harry rubbed his face, not trusting himself to speak.

"What did he tell you?" He asked him back.

"He is in no condition to speak," Snape replied. "Now, answer me."

"We were…searching for something," Harry said and shrugged at the furious look Snape gave him.

"What precisely? And what exactly were you doing searching for such a dangerous thing?" he growled.

Harry didn't respond. He didn't know what story to cook up. He was not good at this stuff. And the fact that he actually felt bad hiding all this from Snape did not help his cause. The man deserved answers to his questions, but Dumbledore bound Harry. Harry put his head in his hands and sighed.

"Answer me, Potter!" Snape shouted.

"Alright!" Harry yelled back. "Just…hear me out." He took a few breaths to compose himself speaking. "We were out looking for a ring. That ring was cursed; we did not know, and Dumbledore wore it. That's how the curse spread. Do not-" Harry said as he saw Snape open his mouth to ask him more questions. "Question me more about what the ring was and how we found it…I am not in a position to tell you."

"You've been asked not to." Snape said he looked at Harry, nodded his head and gave him a 'duh' face.

"It's apparently for your safety," Harry said. "And Elle's." He added.

Snape closed his eyes and rubbed his face before standing up. "Then it is of no use talking to you." He said. "Or Albus." He muttered darkly as he passed Harry and towards the exit of the office.

"I'm sorry, Snape," Harry spoke softly. "I know of all people how it feels to be kept in the dark."

Snape did not seem to formulate any reply. He just stared at Harry's slumped form.

"Do you need any medical assistance?" Snape asked instead as he opened the door to leave. His eyes flickered over to Harry's forehead, where dried blood marred half his face. But the boy shook his head. Harry did not want to be alone. He did not want Snape to leave.

"Wait!" Harry called him, and the man stopped in mid-step. They stared at each other for a few seconds as Harry deciphered as to why he had stopped Snape in the first place and why he did not want him to leave.

Snape raised an eyebrow at him, a silent prompt to move this along as he did not have the whole night to tend to the Boy-Who-Lived-To-Keep-Secrets.

"What does splinching mean?" Harry asked pathetically and watched as Snape rolled his eyes before leaving and shutting the door with a loud bang.

/

That night, Harry barely slept. His scar burned all night and bled most of the time. Harry puked the little dinner he had had and finally passed out on his bed due to weakness in the wee hours of the morning, not even bothering to call anyone.

The next morning, Harry woke up late. He groaned as sunlight filtered through the curtains and woke him up. He sat up in bed and saw that he had slept in his jeans and shirt. He put on his glasses and threw the lighter and half-empty box of cigarettes in the drawer of his bedside table before standing up and stretching. The clock read 10:45 am, and Harry knew he had missed breakfast. A knock sounded on the door to the dormitory, and Harry's eyes widened. He quickly locked up his drawer and cast a refreshment charm in the room to get rid of any lingering smell of smoke before walking to the door and opening it.

He was shocked to find Dobby standing there.

"Dobby." He spoke. "Um…good morning."

"Good morning, Harry Potter," Dobby said. "Dobby came to check up on Harry Potter when Harry Potter did not order for breakfast." He said, wringing his hands.

"Oh yeah…" Harry said as he scratched his head. "I woke up a little late."

The elf's eyes widened as he saw blood on Harry's shirt. "Is Harry Potter hurt? Should Dobby call the Professors?"

"Wha-NO!" Harry said and grabbed the elf. "No, Dobby, I'm fine. It's old blood." He said and sighed. He was not up for this today.

"Should I send something for Harry Potter to eat, then?" The elf asked, concerned.

"No-no," Harry said, but seeing the disappointed look on the elf's face, he added. "Just some coffee would be great."

The elf's eyes lit up. "Of course! I shall do that right away." With a snap of his fingers, the elf disappeared, and Harry closed the door, breathing a sigh of relief.

While taking a shower, last night's events caught up with Harry, and he made a mental note to visit the headmaster right away. He quickly got dressed and went downstairs to see that Dobby had already kept a steaming cup of coffee for him with a small plate of biscuits. Smiling at the elf's concern, Harry quickly drank the coffee and ate a biscuit while taking one for his trip to Dumbledore's office.

He grabbed his book bag, vowing to complete his Transfiguration reading today. With a jolt, Harry realised that his results were also due sometime this week. There was just a week and a half left for the classes to start.

He somewhere felt a little disappointed, he realised, as he walked down the empty corridors towards the Gargoyle. He quite enjoyed the castle to himself. He also felt sad that his time with Elle would be cut short now. He would not be able to take her out for walks anymore nor play with her for hours on end.

He sighed as he knocked on the office door. After getting permission to come in, Harry opened the door and walked in. Dumbledore did not look like he had suffered any kind of curse except for the gloved hand he now sported.

"Professor, good morning," Harry said and took a seat in the same chair he had sat yesterday.

"Good morning, Harry. What can I do for you today?" Albus gave him a kind smile.

"How are you, sir?" Harry asked him. "Professor Snape wouldn't tell me yesterday what exactly happened."

Albus chuckled as he kept his quill down. "I am doing fine, my boy. It's just a curse."

"Yeah, but you still have a blackened hand," Harry said as he pointed to the glove. "What exactly was that curse?"

"I believe it is just a mere curse which was about to spread into my veins. However, we reached back here in time." Albus said. "And thanks to you and Severus, I got the treatment done."

"So…you're fine?" Harry asked dubiously. "Snape cured you?"

"Well, I wouldn't say cured, exactly," Albus said. "Severus' potions and spells stopped the curse from spreading."

Harry looked at the man confusedly.

"It will be fine, Harry," Albus said with a reassuring smile. Harry didn't believe it but nodded anyway.

"If you say so…" he said and shrugged. "Professor…if I may ask…" Harry licked his lips. This question has been roaming around his head since last night. "Why did you wear the ring? I mean…if it was a Horcrux, we just needed to destroy it."

Albus looked at him solemnly. "Yes, Harry…I believe that it was rather foolish of me to do that. However, you must understand a Horcrux gives off a negative energy. It attracts you to it."

"So…you were feeling a pull?" Harry asked sceptically. It definitely did not look like that, and nor could he believe that a powerful wizard could be attracted to the negative pull of such a small little thing.

"I did a feel a pull, yes," Albus said, not willing to get into a conversation about that again. Harry just nodded his head in understanding.

"Um…did you say anything to Professor Snape yesterday?" He asked, changing the conversation.

"I do not believe I did. I was quite out of it, as you might say." Albus said and shook his head. "Why, did you?"

"Well, no, I didn't. I just told him that we were out to retrieve a ring that would have helped us defeat Voldemort. And that the ring got destroyed, and you got cursed." Harry shrugged.

"That settles it then," Albus said.

"I wish we didn't have to hide this from him," Harry admitted softly. His heart was still heavy from lying to Snape.

"It's not lying, my boy. Especially when you are doing it to keep the other person safe." Albus said.

Harry had half a mind to retort with, 'Is that how you justified all the things you kept from me?' but he resisted.

"He's quite cross with me at the moment," Harry said. He knew it shouldn't affect him that much; it was Snape, after all. But after the past few weeks, he couldn't help but feel guilty at the man's disappointment.

"Well, Severus doesn't like to be excluded. But we cannot help in this case. My suggestion? Talk to him." Albus said with a twinkle in his eyes.

"I do not think I'm in the position to do that, Professor," Harry said and stood up. "Well then, if you insist, you're well, I'll take your leave."

Albus smiled and nodded. "Oh, before you go, Harry. I almost forgot."

Harry watched as the older man opened his right drawer and took out an envelope. "This should have come for you today. But as you're already here at Hogwarts, I figured I'd give it to you myself."

Harry moved forward and took the envelope from him. As expected, they were his OWL results.

The weight of the envelope in Harry's hand made his stomach drop. He slipped the envelope into his pocket, though, not wanting to open it in front of Dumbledore.

"Thank you, Professor," Harry mumbled, his mind already darting elsewhere as he turned to leave the office.

"Oh, and Harry," Dumbledore called after him, his tone gentler than usual, "Remember, you are not alone in these burdens. Should you ever need support—or guidance—you know where to find me or Professor Snape."

Harry nodded and forced a small smile, though he wasn't sure how to feel about Dumbledore's well-meaning words after everything he'd just been told to keep hidden. It wasn't just a lie about the Horcruxes that bothered him, but the deliberate exclusion of Snape, who had spent his life acting on Dumbledore's orders with little knowledge of the true picture. It wasn't right; even if Snape wouldn't take the truth well, he deserved better.

As Harry left, he made his way down the staircase, the letter in his pocket feeling heavier by the minute. He would open it later, maybe in the quiet of the common room—if he could bring himself to focus. For now, his mind was buzzing with the question of how to approach Snape.

That afternoon, Harry found himself in the Potions classroom. His hands rested tensely on his lap as he watched Snape, who was busy mixing ingredients with his usual precision. Eventually, Snape turned to him, his dark eyes narrowed with a mix of irritation and curiosity.

"What are you doing here, Potter?" he snapped. "I expected our last discussion was enough to deter your uninvited visits."

Harry shifted in his seat, steadying his resolve. "I wanted to thank you for helping Dumbledore last night," he began, forcing himself to hold Snape's gaze. "I don't think he could have come out of it without your help."

Snape's eyes narrowed further. "And yet I remain in the dark as to the true nature of this 'mission' you embarked on with him," he said, his tone laced with suspicion. "A mission that managed to get him cursed."

Harry swallowed, feeling a surge of guilt. He couldn't tell Snape the full truth, but he wouldn't lie outright. "Professor Dumbledore believes it's best kept between us," he said carefully. "For now."

Snape scoffed. "How convenient," he sneered, his voice low and biting. "A private adventure for the Chosen One and his beloved headmaster. And I am left to deal with the aftermath, as usual, with no explanation whatsoever."

Harry clenched his jaw. He could feel Snape's frustration—a frustration he shared. But he couldn't break his word to Dumbledore. "It's not personal. Dumbledore's just being careful."

Snape's glare darkened, and his voice dropped to a harsh whisper. "Perhaps he should be careful with whom he chooses to keep secrets. Secrets have a way of unravelling, Potter. And when they do, the consequences are often grave."

For a moment, the room was thick with unspoken words, the weight of their shared distrust and unwilling alliance. Harry wanted to lash out, to tell Snape everything, to share his frustration with the burdens they each bore under Dumbledore's guiding hand. But he knew better. For now, he would have to shoulder this responsibility alone, whether he liked it or not.

"Where's Elle?" He asked, changing the subject.

"She's busy at the moment," Snape said rudely. "I will tell her you were asking about her."

Snape's words hit Harry like a punch in the gut. He didn't know why he felt this way. Of course, he expected Snape to be angry at him, but he did not expect the man to deny Harry his meetings with Elle. It was fair, though, Harry thought morosely.

"I got her her favourite chocolate." He said and kept the bar of chocolate on the table beside Severus.

"Thank you for your time, sir," Harry said, trying to keep his hurt out of his tone as he turned to leave, feeling a strange mixture of defiance and regret. As he closed the door behind him, he knew he'd only heightened Snape's suspicion and that their uneasy truce was more fragile than ever. But in the grand scheme of things, secrecy was yet another sacrifice in the fight against Voldemort.

/

Harry wandered around the castle, finally settling in the library to complete his work. Just as he took his books out, he realised that he needed to check his owl results as well.

He knew he hadn't done that well, especially considering everything he had gone through. He sighed as he took out his owls and put them in front of him.

Well, here goes nothing, he thought as he opened them.

He quickly skimmed through the letter and raised an eyebrow at it. He had received seven owls. That wasn't so bad. He couldn't help but wonder if the professors had gone easy on him or, quite possibly, on the whole student body due to the fiasco of last year.

He shrugged and neatly put the letter away. He quickly took out two parchments and penned two small letters to Ron and Hermione, informing them of his owls.

After he had written the letters, Harry started working on his remaining essays and work. He knew he wasn't going to continue with Divinations and History of Magic, so he didn't bother touching them.

He also wasn't sure about potions. He had received an Exceeds Expectation. Snape only took students with an Outstanding on their owls. He sighed as he put his quill down to stretch his fingers.

If it was any other summer day, Harry would have, without thinking, gone to Snape and asked him if he should bother with his Potions essay, but after what went down yesterday and his conversation with him today, Harry did not have the guts to go to the man at all. He just knew it would not yield the favourable outcome he wished for.

He decided to take a break and left his books in the library while he went off to find Hedwig so that he could send his letters to his friends.

Just when he was returning from the owlery, he heard the unmistakable voice of Elle coming from the corridor adjacent. He was about to run towards it when he realised that she wasn't alone.

"Daddy, why can't I meet and play with Harry?" Harry heard the small whine in her voice.

"He is…indisposed at this moment," Snape said softly.

"But he always comes to visit! How come he did not come today?" Elle pouted.

"I don't know, Elle. Stop thinking about Potter. It's lunchtime, come." Snape said sternly.

Harry heard a small foot stomp and grinned.

"No! I want to meet Harry! I'm going to go to his common room." Elle said loudly and started walking towards Harry's direction.

"Young lady, I will not have you yelling at me for that brat's sake!" Harry heard Snape yell. "You will come with me for lunch right this instant." After small shuffling voices, Harry heard Elle wailing loudly as the footsteps receded. He figured Snape had just picked up the small girl and carried her to the dungeons.

His heart tightened a little, and fury gripped him. Snape was a heartless bastard. Just because he was cross with Harry, he was refusing to let Elle meet him. That was just petty.

Harry huffed in frustration and stormed his way back to the library. His anger bubbled over, and before he knew it, his quill snapped in his grip. Without thinking, he flung the broken pieces toward the window, the sharp sound of the impact echoing in the quiet room.

With a heavy sigh, he slumped down at the nearest table, burying his face in his arms. He tapped his forehead against the wood a few times, a dull thud accompanying his muttered frustration.

Why did his life always have to be so complicated? Why, every time he dared to trust someone, did they inevitably pull away?

Sniffing, Harry sat up and scrubbed his face with his hands, trying to push back the threatening wave of emotion. He needed to toughen up. Being soft had never gotten him anywhere. Snape had always been a bastard—it wasn't as though this behaviour was new. The only reason the man had been remotely decent over the summer was because of Elle.

And now? Well, now Snape had clearly decided that Harry was a danger to her, too. Fair enough, Harry thought bitterly. Maybe Snape was right.

Steeling himself, Harry pulled his books closer, forcing his focus onto the stack of unfinished summer assignments. If Snape thought he'd break Harry by keeping Elle away, he had another thing coming. Harry would finish all his summer work in one go just to prove he didn't care. He would endure the last week of summer in peace and isolation, preparing for the influx of students without giving Snape—or anyone else—the satisfaction of seeing him hurt.

His resolve hardened, Harry bent over his parchment, quill in hand, and got to work.

/

The week had been rough for Harry. Dumbledore, though recovering well, seemed perpetually occupied. Any time Harry tried to catch him for even a brief conversation, he was either rushing off to meetings or engrossed in piles of parchment. Still, it was better than nothing.

Snape, on the other hand, had made it abundantly clear he wanted nothing to do with Harry. Harry had ventured down to the dungeons one last time, hoping to resume their defense lessons, but Snape had practically snarled at him to leave. The door had slammed shut behind him and with it, any remaining hope Harry had of patching things up.

To top it all off, school was starting, and Harry still hadn't seen Elle. That absence hurt more than he cared to admit.

On Saturday night, he'd made a trip to Old Jack, purchasing two boxes of cigarettes to last him through the first few weeks of term. Now, on this bright, chilly afternoon, he sat in the courtyard, soaking up the last of the autumn sunshine before the inevitable winter gloom set in. His Transfiguration notes lay open in front of him, though he'd barely glanced at them.

The Hogwarts Express would be arriving in a few hours, and Harry couldn't wait to see Ron and Hermione. Sure, their letters over the summer had been a comfort, but nothing compared to seeing them in person.

He bit into an apple he'd grabbed from the kitchens when a sound froze him mid-bite: the light, unmistakable giggle he'd been longing to hear all week.

Harry turned, and there she was—Elle, skipping alongside Snape as they emerged from the path leading to the forest. She clutched her father's hand, her dark hair bouncing with each step as she chattered animatedly. Harry couldn't hear what she was saying, but her joy was palpable.

Snape, as always, wore his usual stern expression, but something was different. His hard edges softened in Elle's presence. Harry's heart twisted as he watched them.

For a moment, he considered approaching. Surely Snape wouldn't berate him in front of Elle? Maybe if he just said hello…

But then he remembered Snape's words and stopped. Maybe he should just maintain his distance. Nothing good ever happened to him, and he should have learned that by now.

Harry pressed himself behind the stone pillar, his heart racing as their footsteps drew closer.

"Dad," Elle chirped, tugging at Snape's sleeve, "can we go to the lake after lunch? I want to see if the fish are still there!"

"We'll see," Snape replied, his voice softer than Harry had ever heard it.

Elle suddenly stopped, her gaze sweeping across the courtyard. Harry froze, holding his breath. For a moment, he thought she'd spotted him, but then her eyes shifted away, and she tugged Snape's hand again, leading him toward the forest path.

As they disappeared among the trees, Harry exhaled shakily and sank against the wall.

Harry tossed the apple core into the grass, letting his head fall back against the cool stone behind him. His Transfiguration notes sat untouched on the bench. He didn't care.

The train would be here soon, bringing with it the distractions of school and his friends. A sour thought crept in as he realized Snape hadn't mentioned the two weeks of detention he'd promised. Had the man forgotten? Or worse, did he simply not care anymore?

Harry rubbed his temples and sighed. He didn't know which was worse—the absence of punishment or the absence of acknowledgement altogether.

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