Francesca

Harry doesn't return to the Dursleys' house that summer. Deep down, he knows he will never see them again.

It's a strange concept to think of the last interaction with his aunt and uncle being a complete failure, full of shouting, threats, and flying cars. Dumbledore was not happy to hear the full story; truth be told, his expression worsened as Harry spoke.

After waking up and after a series of questions from Hermione and Ron alike (questions that Harry refused to answer with complete truthfulness), endless apologies and explanations that Harry understands, even if he still feels slightly betrayed, a feeling that diminished considerably after the influence of the diary vanished from his head; he hurried to find Professor Dumbledore.

His initial plan was a complete failure, however. Professor McGonagall had stopped him just at the door, looking serious and unimpressed. Harry, under the watchful eyes of his friends, walked back to the infirmary where he received an even more detailed scolding from Madam Pomfrey. Neither of the two women tried to get Harry to talk, despite the uncertain looks about fractures, burns and past injuries that had left their mark on his body and skin. The list of potions he had to take was not pleasant, but he understood the consequences of not treating his health correctly.

When Madam Pomfrey was assured that Harry's head wound was fine, Harry turned anxiously. “Can I see Professor Dumbledore now?”

Madam Pomfrey still made sure to detail his treatment. Not to use his magic any more than necessary, to take his potions, to follow his diet. Harry practically jumps off the examining table when he's allowed to leave.

Professor Dumbledore is waiting for him; Harry had seen him a day earlier, but doesn't feel insane to admit that the man looked even older. Harry doesn't know whether to attribute his thoughts to the dark circles under his eyes, or the full semblance of regret.

The wizard's smile doesn't extend all the way to his eyes when he greets him. “Ah, Harry, how are you feeling?”

Harry glances sideways, discreetly waiting for Professor McGonagall to leave the office. When he is sure that only Dumbledore and he are present (except for the frames of previous Headmasters, though Harry prefers to pretend they are not there) he replies. “I'm fine, Professor. Thank you so much for asking.” Unable to contain himself any longer, he continues. “Where's Tom?”

Harry is afraid to admit that he is wary of Dumbledore's promise to keep the diary safe, and his cheeks flush red as the man reaches out and the shelf beside him slowly opens, revealing a small glass box where the diary lies placidly.

Harry stands up on his tiptoes, trying to see that it is in good condition. His heart beats normally when he can feel the ghost of Tom's magic brush against his own.

Dumbledore watches the interaction with interest, before speaking, stopping Harry from trying to approach the diary. “For your health, Harry, you know you can't go near the diary for now.”

Harry frowns, visibly displeased with the restriction, sitting back down in the chair in front of the desk. Dumbledore smiles, as if Harry's expression is something that cheers his soul. “Dear boy, may I ask you something?”

Harry blinks, confused by the sudden question, but nods doubtfully.

“Are you happy?”

Harry is silent for several seconds. The immediate answer his brain offers is to say yes; Harry, superficially, has no reason to be sad. Hogwarts is wonderful, his friends are good to him, and Quidditch keeps him distracted. However, something tells him that's not the answer Dumbledore wants to hear. In gratitude for keeping Tom safe, Harry decides to properly think about his answer.

So he thinks of his aunt and uncle, of Dudley, of the cupboard under the stairs and days without food. He thinks of clothes several sizes too big for his body, he thinks of parents he never knew, he thinks of the philosopher's stone, of red eyes full of hate, of a stuttering teacher and another who hates him just by looking at him. He thinks of how his classmates turned their backs on him with impressive swiftness, and Harry has no hesitation when the words come out of his mouth. “I don't know, Professor.” Dumbledore's expression twitches. “I'd like to tell you that I am, because good things have happened. But bad things have happened too, and I can't just ignore them. I'm sad and I'm happy. I'm scared, I'm terrified, and I don't want to think about the future because I feel, deep down, that there is no future for me.”

His words seem to visibly affect Dumbledore. “And if it's not too much trouble, my boy, may I ask what has happened to make you feel this way?”

Harry hesitates, but once he starts talking he can't stop. It's not the same as with Tom, Harry burst into tears when he talked about his childhood with him, but talking about it with Dumbledore feels right, the bizarre idea that the man needs to know, though he doesn't quite understand why. Talking to Madam Pomfrey and McGonagall isn't the same, either.

Harry tries not to let his voice crack, feeling suddenly too self-conscious. At times, he feels like he's overreacting, that things don't sound as bad as they seem in Harry's head. He feels like a child (a voice in his head, the reasonable voice, reminds him that he is), yet when he allows himself to raise his head and look at Dumbledore, the professor is shattered.

“No matter how old I am, if I don't learn from my mistakes, I am doomed to repeat them.” Harry doesn't understand what he is talking about, and thinks Dumbledore's words are not directed at him. The professor's eyes are unfocused, as if he is lost in memories. The professor looks back at Harry. “I hope it is not too late to say so; but I hope you can accept this old man's apology. I'm very sorry, Harry.”

Harry is quick to respond. “It's not your fault, Professor!”

Far from helping, Dumbledore's expression darkens. “You are too kind-hearted, Harry.” Dumbledore pauses, hesitantly. “But I'm afraid to confess that I am partially responsible for the things you had to go through. I took the liberty of deciding what was right for you, but I tend to forget that I am a mere human who makes mistakes. I did not foresee that Petunia would be such a spiteful woman, and I did not imagine that you would be exposed to rejection. For that, I apologize.”

Harry shifts his feet nervously, not knowing exactly how to respond. “It's all right, Professor. Like I told you, it's not all bad.” Hesitating for a few seconds, he added. “It would be a bit hypocritical of me to hate you for leaving me with the Dursleys, Professor. I can't do that, because I know you didn't mean to hurt me when you made that decision. Surely, you must have had your reasons...besides, well, you saved Tom.” Opening his eyes in surprise, he hurried to add. “Tom said you acted in line with your plans. I can't speak for Tom and his experience with you, Professor. Nor can I forgive him in his place, but I'm sure...if at some point you would like to...I don't know, apologize. Maybe, just maybe, Tom would want to listen.”

The professor laughed, as if Harry's words were a story he didn't want to believe in. “Only time will tell if I can fix what I broke with Tom, my dear boy.” Harry knows, at that moment, that Dumbledore doesn't want to dig into the past. Harry can respect that. “Harry, one last question, if you don't mind.”

“You think of the Dursleys as a family?”

Harry grimaced in disgust. “Not really. No, Professor. They're the closest thing I have, no doubt. But if your question is whether I harbor love for them...not really.”

Dumbledore nods. He doesn't ask any more questions. Instead, he begins to tell him stories of his youth.

Harry is surprised to learn that he has siblings. In his mind, Dumbledore was a sort of man who had always been an adult, and the idea of him being a child playing is, honestly, very strange. Harry talks to him, too, about trivial things. He confesses that he has an unhealthy obsession with treacle tart, and they laugh about unimportant things. Harry sees Dumbledore differently, for some strange reason. Harry hopes, deep down, that Tom can hear them....

So, perhaps, he can also learn to forgive the past.

When Dumbledore notifies him that it is time to leave, he sends him off with candy. “I know it doesn't make you happy to go to the healer, Harry. But I have to make sure you're feeling well, can you go to the appointment sessions with Madam Pomfrey?”

Harry agrees.

X

When the end of the school year arrives, Harry and Madam Pomfrey are good friends. The witch has helped him regain control over his magic and healed wounds that Harry himself was unaware of. She has even helped him make amends with a very worried and remorseful Ron and Hermione.

Harry is ready to return to the Dursleys. Despite his conversation with Dumbledore, Harry really didn't expect the man to do anything about it. However, as he is on his way out of the castle accompanied by his friends, Severus Snape stops him.

“Potter.” Harry startles, and quickly recapitulates if he has done something wrong, trying to understand why all of a sudden the professor is talking to him. The older man rolls his eyes, wearily. “Professor Dumbledore has notified me that he wishes to speak with you.”

“But Professor, the train!” Hermione hurries to say. Snape looks at her blankly.

“Potter will return safely, I can assure you, Miss Granger.” The answer is short and doesn't lead to a continuation of the argument. Hermione is not happy, but Harry smiles at her and tells her it's okay, to not worry. He hugs his two friends and walks off in the opposite direction to the professor's side.

“May I know what Professor Dumbledore wishes?” asks Harry.

“The Headmaster has instructed me that I am to support you as a temporary guardian.” He says, Harry blinks, puzzled. “So you will remain in my office until my work is done and we can retire. I figured you wouldn't want your friends to know about it, so I've given you the freedom to tell them whenever you feel comfortable. I have a meeting with the rest of the teachers, I expect you to behave yourself in the meantime.” The man closes the door to his office as soon as Harry enters, and Harry stands dumbfounded in semi-dark room with his trunk.

Harry, in short, doesn't understand what's going on. What on earth was Dumbledore thinking appointing Snape as temporary guardian? Harry was sure he had told the man that Snape utterly detested him. Sure, his hatred had lessened considerably since Harry had stopped ruining his potions, and sure, his words were a little less hurtful. But he was still the man who looked at him in the corridors as if he wanted to pulverize him. Wasn't it better to let him stay with the Weasleys?

Harry decides to sit up after half an hour has passed, and in the end ends up dozing off over his own shoulder. Professor Snape's throat clearing makes him jump and stand up immediately.

“Sorry, I dozed off.” Harry says, quickly.

“I can tell.” Snape looks at him with some displeasure, and Harry feels extremely embarrassed to know that the professor is seeing the trail of dried saliva at the corner of his lips. Harry hurries to wipe it off with his hand, which also seems to disgust the man.

“Are you ready?” Harry nods. The professor walks over to the fireplace, where he mutters a few words before it glows. “Take my arm, Potter.”

Harry obeys, dragging his trunk with him. When he takes the Professor's arm, in the blink of an eye, he finds himself in a completely unfamiliar place.

The way he travels is definitely different from when he made it with the Weasleys last year, but Harry knows that asking so many questions isn't going to help him make living with Snape any more pleasant. Harry is still standing by the fireplace looking carefully at the house. It looks old but well-kept, in dark tones, with several bookcases around it. Harry sees an armchair that looks relatively comfortable and wonders if it would be too much to ask Snape to let him sleep there.

When Harry looks back at Snape, the man is already looking at him. “I know you wish you were anywhere else but here. But Dumbledore thinks the Weasleys can't quite protect you for now. Try to hold out this summer, if you hate it so much.” Harry blinks, uncomfortably.

“Your room is the first on the right. Next is mine, then my laboratory. You have access to the entire property except for my room and the lab.” Harry nods, before Snape leaves, he adds. “Please don't break anything.”

Harry stands for several seconds, processing the information. When he realizes that Snape won't be back, he walks carefully to the room he was assigned.

It is the same size as Dudley's second room, but there are no toys lying around. The walls are the same dark tones as the living room, but there is a window with a view of a field. Well, it's clearly better than a couch.

The furniture is dusty, and the bed sheets smell musty. Harry understands that the room has been unoccupied for too long. Deciding to do what he has always done to earn his place, he places the trunk on the edge of the bed. Hedwig would probably be upset about leaving with Ron. Harry would beg if necessary to bring his owl with him.

It's not too late, and Harry gets down to business.

He can't find any cleaning wipes, and doesn't want to assume that any are. He resorts to using one of his oldest shirts as a rag. He makes sure to wipe every corner of the room until the dust no longer makes him sneeze. He may not be able to do anything about the sheets and the humidity, but he is proud of his work.

He is so immersed in shaking the window curtains when Professor Snape knocks lightly on the bedroom door. He makes a lousy attempt to keep his balance, and almost ends up falling disastrously, but his dignity doesn't end up on the floor (and neither does his face). “Professor.”

Snape doesn't seem to know what to do, looks around the room, then at Harry, then at his dusty, grime-filled shirt. A grimace of exasperation adorns his face. “Potter.” Harry doesn't know if he's being scolded, so he stands firmly in place. “What are you doing?”

“Cleaning up.” Harry replies, immediately. “Sir.” He added.

“And tell me, by Merlin, why are you cleaning?”

“The room was dusty.” He replies, with some obviousness. He immediately scolds himself, and is quick to correct. “I mean, I understand that perhaps the room had been unused for a long time, I don't mean that you weren't receiving visitors, of course, it's just that...” Snape doesn't seem at all impressed by his explanation. Harry begins to sweat. “Yeah, uh, maybe the dust was coming in through the window. It's making me sneeze, so I'm cleaning it up a bit. I find myself grateful, Professor, of course. Don't misunderstand me, please.” At Snape's lack of response, Harry becomes desperate. “If you like, I can clean the rest of the house. You see, I'm very good at cleaning, I can also cook, sometimes I burn bacon, but that's when I'm simultaneously making tea. Oh, I can also help with the garden, if you have a garden...also, I can also shine your shoes, I'm good at polishing shoes.” Harry finishes, proud that he has successfully listed his talents.

Snape, however, does not look happy. It's the complete opposite. The man looks genuinely distraught, and Harry fails to fully identify the emotions that cross his face.

“Indeed, Potter, the room has been empty for a very, very long time. Sorry about the dust.” He pauses, as if the words cost him. “But what concerns me here is that you cleaned it yourself - why didn't you call me?”

“I didn't want to disturb you, sir.”

“It's my duty to provide a safe place for you.” Wow, definitely, it's better than the Dursleys. Apparently they're the worst of the worst, if even Snape was a better guardian.

“Thank you.” Harry says. “Sir.”

The silence is awkward. Clearly, Snape doesn't want to prolong it. “You don't have to clean, or cook, or any of the nonsense you said, Potter.”

“Then how am I supposed to pay for my stay here?” The question comes out before he can stop himself.

Snape, this time, turns pale. “You're not supposed to pay for being taken care of, Potter. You are a child. As guardian, that's my job.”

“Oh.”

Snape is not happy with his answer. “Why didn't you just use magic to clean?” he inquires. “And where did you get that thing?” He points to Harry's shirt still in his hands.

“I'm not allowed to use magic outside of Hogwarts.” Harry says, slowly. Trying not to sound sarcastic or rude. “And this is one of my, uhm, shirts.”

“This is a magical property.” Snape says, exasperated. Harry's confused reaction seems to anger him more. “In magical houses, children can do magic. The magic trail doesn't work here.”

So that explains how it is that most of Slytherin seems to have much more control of their magic. Harry can understand Tom's frustration even better now.

“Well, uh, I don't know any cleaning spells either.” Harry admits. True, he has learned a lot of magic from Tom, but the young man didn't teach him about trivial things like that.

“Ah.” Snape replies, folding his arms. “Yes, I imagine Molly Weasley doesn't allow visitors to help with the cleaning.”

Harry doesn't know if Snape is mocking him or not, so he avoids making a comment that would jeopardize the partial truce that seems to exist between their mutual hatred.

Snape turns away. “Dinner will be ready in twenty minutes, Potter. Take a bath.” He orders, Harry nods, not quite sure Snape can see that. “And please throw that shirt away. And all others that look like it.”

When Snape leaves, Harry thinks.

Does Snape expect him to spend the whole summer naked?

X

No, Snape didn't expect him to spend the rest of the summer naked.

After a wonderful dinner prepared by Snape's little house elf, a lovely creature by the name of Tatie who melted at a simple “it's delicious” from Harry, Snape decided to break the silence.

“Potter.” Harry immediately lowered his fork and swallowed the bite in his mouth. Snape sighed. “Tomorrow we're going to Diagon Alley for clothes.”

“Yes sir.” He replied automatically, then frowned. “Uh, clothes?”

“Yes, Potter, clothes. Robes, boots, proper clothes for a wizard. Not the old rags you mistakenly call clothes.”

Harry rolled his eyes and squeezed them tightly shut.

Breathe, calm down. Snape is your guardian now, he gave you a room and a bed. You don't want your bed taken away from you.

“I'm not going to get mad at you if you act like the insolent little boy you usually are, Potter.” Snape said, after long seconds. “You know that?”

“You don't... Huh?” Harry stopped, and brought his hand to his hair, shaking it out in desperation. “Look, Professor. I really, really, really want to understand what's going on. I want to get along with you, too, if this thing about being my guardian is something you really want to do. But I find myself very, very, very confused because I could have sworn you hated me. No offense.”

Snape places his spoon and fork on the plate, slowly and carefully. Harry is on his nerves at the calmness of his actions.

“Until recently, I was acting under the assumption that you had been raised in a magical environment as a spoiled, rude child.” Harry tries not to take offense, he really does. But he can feel the corners of his lips curl into a grimace. “Clearly I was wrong. It is clear to me that any magical child under the care of Petunia Evans is anything but spoiled.”

Harry has too many questions, lots and lots of them. And probably the culprit for putting him in that situation is Dumbledore, too.

If the Headmaster wanted to change for the better, Harry wants to suggest that he start by keeping secrets, if possible.

“Dursley.” He finishes by saying, Snape looks at him as if he's grown another head. “It's Dursley, now. Since, hm, she got married.” Harry moves his fork slightly out of place. “You know her?”

Snape winces, as if the very idea is annoying. “Unfortunately yes.” Harry wants to ask how someone who seems to repel magic could be in contact with Snape, of all people. The professor, fortunately, seems willing to answer some of his questions. “You may be surprised to learn, Potter, that I grew up in the same neighborhood as the Evans. So, naturally, I knew Lily and Petunia. They are the spitting image that blood doesn't guarantee being good people. Petunia was rude and envious. Lily, on the other hand...Lily radiated a wonderful kindness.”

Harry doesn't know whether to feel uncomfortable at the obvious affection in his professor's voice. The situation in the first place was already very bizarre. The revelation that Snape appears to be a childhood friend of his mother's was not expected, not at all.

“Oh.” Harry manages to say. “So you were friends.”

Harry, this time, can actually recognize the nostalgia in the professor's voice. “Best friends. For years, Lily Evans was the biggest supporter of my life. I owed her...I owe her too much, for her endless patience and support. I greatly regret never being able to repay everything she did for me.”

Harry shifts in his seat, uncomfortable. “Er...is it annoying if I ask why, then, you hated me so much?”

Snape looks at him, and with that simple look Harry understands that the man's sins go further than he wants to admit. Harry has seen that look on Tom, on Dumbledore. And Harry dreads seeing that look on more people's faces.

“Because, like an immature man, I decided to blame a child for mistakes he never made.” Snape admits. Merlin, Harry wants to take a picture of that moment and show it to Ron. He would charge a galleon for every time someone wants to see it. Because there, in front of him, Severus Snape is smiling.

Smiling.

“Dumbledore has made decisions...rather questionable ones. Decisions that I don't agree with at all. Decisions that, if he had asked me, the outcome would be very, very different. I can't do anything about the past, but I can do better in the future.” Snape says. “After a recreational argument, and after certain...conditions, I was allowed to be your temporary guardian. It is of importance that you know, Potter, that although I do this partially because of the debt I owe your mother, I do it because I recognize that I have been wrong about you.”

This is not an apology. Harry knows full well that he may never hear an apology from Snape's lips, but he recognizes the man's effort to try to fix mistakes. Harry smiles stupidly. “Harry, sir.” Snape raises an eyebrow. “If we're going to be living under the same roof, it's a bit odd that you're calling me by my last name. After all, I'm just Harry.”

His words are spoken in an effort to break the ice. Seeing Snape take a sharp intake of breath was not what he expected. However, the professor softened his gaze.

“Just Harry...yes, Harry. Very well.” Snape rose from table, taking his plate with him. “You may have improved a great deal with your potions making skills; but your handwriting is still terrible. I'll bother to be your teacher this summer, if that's alright with you.”

Harry smiled brightly at the idea. “Can we study something other than calligraphy?”

“My knowledge may not be extensive in your subjects of interest, but I'll try to be of help, if that's what you wish.”

“Blimey, that's amazing!” Harry exclaimed, genuinely excited. “I'm sure Malfoy would kill me for this opportunity.”

Harry pressed his lips together tightly. Maybe insulting members of his House was too much for the first hour of reconciliation?

Snape rolled his eyes. “Silly.” Starting to walk towards the kitchen, he spoke a little louder. “You are certainly fortunate to have me as a teacher. Don't waste my time, I expect excellence and only excellence from you, Harry, understood?” Harry nodded, far from feeling pressured, the idea of continuing to practice magic without restraint excited him. “Tomorrow morning early we're going to Diagon Alley, I'm not forgetting the insult of things you bring in that trunk. There's a lot of shopping to do, but we can design study schedules when we get home.”

Home.

What a strange concept, but it makes Harry very happy.

X

It's the best summer Harry has ever had in his entire life. 

He feels a little guilty about feeling so content when Tom is still trapped inside the diary. But Severus (Merlin, there are many things he has to explain to Hermione and Ron, starting with the fact that Professor Snape has let him call him Severus), after long talks brewing potions, has explained to him very emphatically that Harry has every right to feel happy. Obviously, the man is not happy to know that about Tom's existence.

It is clear that he keeps his true opinions to himself, and Harry is grateful that he allows him to talk about Tom without being scandalized. Harry admits that he should thank Dumbledore for making Severus his guardian, rather than Mrs. Weasley. He definitely cannot imagine Mrs. Weasley hearing about Tom, much less accepting that he is Harry's friend.

Harry has finished his homework in record time and has decided to choose electives under the guidance of Snape, who seems to approve of his interest in Ancient Runes. However, the man seems to want to protest his choice to take Care of Magical Creatures, though he admits it is better than Divination.

In the end, the days pass quickly and Harry's relationship with Severus progresses positively, but Harry forgets, many times, that the misfortunes never seem to go away completely.

Severus has been out since morning, and Harry is bored; so he decides to explore the field around the house. Severus has told him that there are barriers around the property, so it is quiet enough to be outdoors without his guardian. Harry is killing time picking flowers and making shapes in the damp earth with a piece of tree branch, when he sees him.

A few yards beyond the barrier, a huge black dog is staring at him. Harry doesn't know why, but his magic reacts apprehensively and he takes several steps back, even though he knows the dog can't enter the barrier.

There is something strange about the animal, there is a human air about him that a shiver runs through his whole body. The dog walks in Harry's direction, baring its fangs.

Harry doesn't know whether to run or stay there. The reasonable part tells him that it is dangerous to show the dog the direction of the house, so he prefers to stand in the same place.

He regrets it almost immediately when the dog transforms in front of his eyes into a human.

A man, messy and dirty, with crazy yet relieved eyes.

“Harry.” The man says.

His legs take off running.

Harry runs and runs up to the house, in a zigzag, looking back desperately until he collides into a pair of arms that abruptly stop him.

“Harry. Harry, look at me, what happened?” Severus says, looking at him worriedly.

“A dog! A man! A dog-man?” Harry says, quickly. “There's a dog that turns into a man on the edges of the property, and he knows my name!”

Severus' face quickly pales.

“Did he do something to you?”

“No, he...ah, I ran away.” Harry says. “Why don't you look surprised?” he asks, accusingly.

Severus pulls himself together, and sighs. Severus escorts him into the house, asks Tatie for two hot cups of tea, and sits down to tell him the story of Sirius Black.

Sirius Black; James Potter's best friend. A traitor, and his godfather. Harry wants to cry.

“'He can't come in, Harry.” Severus assures him, staring at him. “In fact, he shouldn't even be able to be able to see you; I wouldn't be surprised if he actually didn't and simply sensed your presence on the other side of the barrier. As your godfather, he has the ability to find you, his animagus form simply amplifies the ability.”

“”He wants to kill me, doesn't he?” Harry asks, not looking.

“He'll have to kill me first.”

That night, Harry sleeps with the curtain closed.

Severus forbids him to leave the property, and takes it upon himself to collect the rest of his materials for Hogwarts instead. Harry doesn't object to the decision, preferring to sit on the couch and bury his face in one of Snape's History of Magic books.

The last few days have been so chaotic, that when the first letter addressed to him arrives, it takes him completely by surprise.

“Harry,

Mate, I'm starting to worry about you. Mom was hoping to meet you at the Leaky Cauldron, but Dumbledore has told her that you are in a safe place because of Sirius Black. As you can imagine, she's out of her mind trying to convince the Headmaster that she can take better care of you. I, on the other hand, find myself relieved that you are safe.

Your last letter was too vague, but I imagine you will explain the situation better when we can see each other (even if that is early in the school year) after the whole past fiasco, I have learned not to pressure you to tell me things. Your friendship, after all, is more important to me than anything else.

Last but not least, I want to wish you a very happy birthday. I hope that wherever you are, you are having fun. Hedwig was very cute when she stayed with us, so much so that Percy decided to buy her a little present in Egypt. I have also bought you a present, it is a small thing, and I feel a bit embarrassed now that I am writing it, but I really want to give it to you.

Take care of yourself, Harry. Mom sends her love, and Dad, Fred, George and Percy. Oh, Ginny too, although she's all red in the face, saying she doesn't say hello.

Hope to see you soon,

Ron.”

“Harry,

Oh, Harry. I have read about Sirius Black. Your letter was too short to understand why he is after you, but I look forward to hearing more about it from yourself. I'm glad to hear you are safe.

Happy birthday, Harry. I wish I was there so I could give you a hug and remind you how much I appreciate your friendship. My parents were anxious to see you on the platform, but I imagine you can't tell me the time you plan to arrive on the platform, can you?

I wish the summer would go by faster. I miss you, and Ron (please don't tell him).

I wish the letter was longer, but I'm not at home and I imagine it's too weird to see a girl and an owl together in the middle of Paris. I have so much to tell you, did you know that in Muggle France they make bread that is too tasty? I hope I can bring you some.

With much love,

Hermione.”

Harry is grinning stupidly at both letters when the door to the house opens. Harry immediately recomposes himself in place, alert. Recognizing Severus' hair, Harry relaxes and leans back against the back of the armchair again. The man slowly enters, and Harry is about to ask how his day has gone when his gaze falls on the small gift-wrapped package in the professor's hands.

Harry's eyes involuntarily tear up.

“I do not yet know you well enough to know what you really want; I wanted it to remain a surprise, so I opted for something more practical.” His words are soft, Harry is genuinely touched. “Happy birthday, child.”

Harry stands up, walks slowly towards Severus and under the professor's surprised gaze, Harry takes the gift and puts it to the side.

Harry is not used to physical contact. Interactions with Tom are completely different, but Harry is too happy to overthink about it; he simply hugs Severus. “Thank you.” He murmurs. “For giving me a home. That's the best gift there could be.”

The professor is dumbfounded, and Harry tries not to smile when he feels the professor's awkward hands trying to return the hug. Before he makes Severus any more uncomfortable, Harry takes a few steps back and focuses his gaze on the gift. “You know, you didn't have to get me anything...”

Removing the wrapping paper as carefully as possible, Harry opens his mouth in complete surprise to see, there, a cleaning kit for the Quidditch equipment.

Harry already has one, simple, but he does. Oliver had given it to him in first year when he joined the team. However, the thought of Professor Snape walking into a Quidditch store is enough to overcome anything. “It's perfect. I love it, thank you so much.” Harry's genuine smile seems to appease Severus' nervousness.

The rest of the afternoon, they are attacked by Tatie and the amount of desserts she has baked in celebration of Harry's birthday.

X

Severus has told (not to say, insisted) Harry about simply traveling with him to Hogwarts. Harry has flatly refused, arguing that he wishes to travel on the train with the rest of his friends. Severus accepts defeat and allows Tatie to appear with Harry on the platform, but not before instructing the little elf to make sure to protect Harry until he boards the train.

When Tatie takes his hand, Harry immediately finds himself on the platform. Slightly dizzy, Harry groans.

“It's not Tatie's fault.” The little elf defends himself. “Tatie is good at what she does. Master Harry is simply too weak to travel.”

“Yes, Tatie, whatever you say.”

Harry is ready to argue with the elf about it being perfectly normal to get dizzy with apparition when Hermione's voice echoes a few feet away from him. “Harry! Harry!”

Harry senses her presence long before the witch arrives, Hermione rushes towards him, and Harry opens his arms to receive her in a tight embrace. Hermione seems too surprised that Harry is the first to initiate contact, but wisely, as always, says nothing. “I missed you, Hermione.”

“Oh, Harry. I missed you too much, too. Talking in letters isn't the same, especially not if they're so short from you!” It's not a reproach, but it comes close enough to be one. “Oh, but your calligraphy is so pretty. I'm glad you were able to work on it, well done Harry.”  Hermione starts dragging Harry towards the train, talking endlessly about how her parents hadn't been able to join her on the platform that day.

“Tatie has complied.” The elf says, looking at Harry with a strange smile. “Tatie will be leaving now. I wish Master Harry a pleasant journey and stay at the castle.”

Hermione doesn't have time to introduce herself when the elf disappears. Her friend pouts. “Harry. does your guardian have a house elf?”

“Yes.” He admits, Hermione's frown making him sigh. “I brought a book for you. It will probably help you understand a little better how the bonds between elves and wizards work, because I understand you're worried that they're working against their will. Dobby is simply a very special case.”

Hermione is delighted to have the book in her hands, and the conversation flows incredibly easily as they walk through the nearly empty corridors. It's too early for the train to be full, so they take their time finding a compartment to their liking. Hermione insists on sitting in the last cabins, arguing that they are the most private.

When their things are ready, Harry sits down across from Hermione. “You know, I got a new cat. He's cute and wonderful, but I didn't want to bring him on the train. I wrote to Professor McGonagall and she was too kind to tell me that there is a way to bring familiars into the castle; I thought it was only possible for owls!”

Harry adds a few things to the conversation, until the door to their compartment opens and Ron looks at them in exasperation. “Hermione, I really hate walking from the entrance to the end of the train.” Complaining, he drops down with his trunk on the seat.

“You're early.” Hermione remarked, ignoring Ron's complaint. “Did something happen?”

“Percy's unbearable because he's the annual prize.” Ron rolls his eyes. “He made us get here early because he insists on greeting each and every student before they enter the train. When we arrived and he saw that some had already boarded, he ran desperately to prevent more people from boarding without greeting them. He's crazy.”

“Or he's just happy.” Harry says. Ron denies.

“No, he's crazy. He made a hundred welcome letters for the first-year students. There's no way in Merlin that we get a hundred students.”

Hermione grimaces in disbelief.

“I don't come here to talk the whole train ride about Percy's eccentricism.” Ron says, immediately. “Harry, are you going to tell us what happened?”

Harry hesitates, glancing sideways at the door. With a slight wave of his wand, he puts into practice one of the simple privacy spells Tom taught him.

“So much has happened, I don't even know where to begin.” Harry admits, Ron and Hermione move closer towards him, intrigued. “Well, you see, last year I found a diary...”

By the time Harry finishes his tale, the trip has been going on for an hour and a half. Harry is genuinely surprised that Hermione held back each and every one of her questions, waiting until the end to bombard him with them.

Ron and Hermione stare at him.

“Dude, I can't believe you're like, I don't know, Snape's son now.” The redhead flinches at his own words. “Snape? In a Quidditch store? Seeing is believing. Give me proof and it's gold.”

“Ron!” Hermione punches him lightly in the arm. “Is that the only thing you rescue from everything Harry has told us? You're insensitive, Professor Snape may be many things, but he's not a bad person, he obviously has affection for Harry, don't be inconsiderate to him!” Hermione scolds him, before continuing. “Sure, it's a twist I didn't expect, but Hey, Harry's fine, so it doesn't matter. What I do want to know, is how the hell you came to the conclusion that Tom Riddle isn't the same as You-Know-Who.”

“Oh, yeah, I didn't get that either.” Ron seconded.

“Tom is different.” Harry said, simply. “He let me go, when he could kill me.”

“Harry, really, that's not how things work.” Hermione tried to reason with him. Harry denied fervently.

“No, you both don't understand. You guys don't know Tom like I do. Tom is...really different from Voldemort. I can assure you, I don't know how; but I do. I understand that it doesn't make sense, but can't you trust me this time?”

Hermione seems hesitant. Ron, however, steps forward to answer. “Well, I'm not entirely happy that this Tom guy turned you into a bookworm, but I can live with it. As long as it doesn't hurt you, or kill someone, per se, I don't have a problem.”

Harry really didn't expect that of his two friends Ron would be the most willing to understand the situation, but maybe he's been accidentally misjudging his friend all this time. Harry directs a grateful smile at him.

Hermione remains silent, arms crossed, until she lets out a defeated sigh. “I understand your connection with...Tom. I'm not very much in favor of his radical ideas, or his trying to make you take his stance. You didn't tell me, but I can tell he's the reason you asked me about my life with Muggles. I am worried that he is taking advantage of you, and trying to influence you using your sympathy. However, Professor Dumbledore has not objected. And if he hasn't, it means he can't be that dangerous.” Hermione says, slowly. “It's fine whatever you want to do about it as long as it doesn't jeopardize your integrity, nor your free will.”

Harry lets out a breath, more calmly. Well, his friends have reacted better than Severus, so Harry has one less worry on his shoulders.

Ron talks about his trip to Egypt, Hermione about her visit to Paris; regretting not having brought souvenirs. At the mention of a gift, Ron turns completely red as he pulls two small boxes from his pocket.

Stuttering, his friend hands them a pair of bracelets to match the one he has himself. All three are made of cloth, and have a pretty stone with three lines intersecting in the middle. “The saleswoman said it's a symbol of friendship. She could have been lying to me, honestly. But I hope you like it.”

Hermione waxes poetic about how much Ron seems to have matured, and Harry silently puts on the bracelet with a happy smile.

The happiness of the conversation fizzles out when Hermione tentatively inquires about Sirius Black. Harry shares with both of them what he knows (which really isn't much) and explains that the information is confidential, so he encourages them to be discreet when Black is mentioned around Harry.

Hogwarts is as beautiful as Harry remembers it.

(He tries to ignore, however, the bubbling urge to run up to Dumbledore's office and finally, finally see Tom.)

The welcome feast is delicious, not like Tatie's food, but tasty enough. Harry discreetly averts his gaze to Severus, who looks displeased. The professor seemed to be in a terrible mood since the introduction of the new Defense professor.

Making eye contact with Dumbledore, the man winks at him. Harry knows what that means.

Tomorrow, he gets to see Tom.

X

Harry overhears Hermione and Ron complaining about him ditching them in Divination. Harry is not going to apologize. Actually, he wants to graduate properly, even if the malevolent version of Tom decides to end his life much sooner. He wasn't going to waste precious time of his life on a mindless subject.

His first class is two continuous hours of charms, followed by Herbology and his introductory Ancient Runes class. Harry doesn't know if it's the anxiety, but the day flies by. And, as he leaves the classroom, he says a quick goodbye to Hermione before rushing off in the direction of the Headmaster's office. He doesn't have the password, or even an appointment, but he still runs.

Albus Dumbledore is waiting for him at the foot of the gargoyle.

“Professor.” Harry says, breathlessly. “Good afternoon.”

“Good afternoon, Harry.” Dumbledore replies, with a slight smile. “Considering your urgency, is it correct to assume that you wish to see Tom?”

“Yes!” Harry says, almost shouting.

Dumbledore laughs lightly. “Ah, come with me.” Dumbledore mutters a few words, and the stairs appear in front of him. “Tell me, my boy, how was your summer?”

“Great. Really.” Harry replies, following Dumbledore. “Thank you for making Severus my guardian.”

Dumbledore pauses slightly, before continuing on his way. “I didn't imagine that your relationship with our dear Severus would progress this far, but after all, it makes me happy that you are both happy.” Dumbledore looks over his shoulder at him. “To tell you the truth, I thought of another guardian for you. Molly would be rather disappointed in me if she knew I didn't consider her, but there is someone else who also...also had a great right to be able to see you grow up. However, I think I made the best decision.”

“Professor?”

“If the circumstances are right, I hope you two can become close in the school year.” Dumbledore said, signing off on the subject. “Ah, Harry. Severus has assured me that your magic and health are stable enough to bring you close to the Diary. I must tell you, my boy, that he is not happy with my allowing this for you. But I have assured him that I trust, fully, in the decision you have made.” Harry nods, momentarily averting his gaze to the office door. “You know, I tried to have a conversation with Tom, but he refused to write back. And, at one point, he wouldn't even let me open it. I thought it was back to its original state, naturally. However, I can't feel...the dark magic emanating from it. It's too strange, I'm afraid I've never come across anything like it before.” Dumbledore opened the door, staring openly at Harry's scar. “But when I saw you at the welcome feast, I could tell that my fears and worries are in vain. Your scar has lost all color, and now...it's just a scar. Tom, once again, has proven to be too skilled with magic. It never ceases to amaze me.”

“I still don't understand the problem with my scar.” Harry said, a little annoyed by Dumbledore's words. The man had a tendency to say things half-heartedly. Harry hated that. “It's always been just a scar, even if the way I got it wasn't the most...pleasant.”

“When you get a little older, my boy.” Dumbledore said, almost in a whisper. “I promise to tell you everything.”

Harry was about to say a sarcastic “Really?” when he looked at the diary in the little glass box. The magic emanating from it was stronger than the last time Harry had been there. The call of magic was too hard to resist.

“Come in.” Dumbledore said, from the doorway. “You can touch it. I'll be right here, if you need me.”

Harry didn't wait for Dumbledore to finish speaking, he almost ran over to the little glass box, quickly opening it. The diary looked in perfect condition, just as he remembered it.

As soon as his hand touched the cover, however, something strange happened. His magic and Tom's seemed to interact with each other and, before he knew it, the boy was in front of him.

Unlike the first time he saw him, Tom looked a year or two older, his hair had grown a little, and it looked even more wavy. He was no longer wearing the Slytherin uniform, and in contrast, was dressed in a simple dark sweater and pants.

The boy is staring at him, as if he didn't believe Harry was there, in front of him. “You're back.”

His words are full of disbelief, Harry feels infinitely confused. “Of course. Did you think I would abandon you? You're my friend.”

Harry's words seem to hurt Tom. “I almost killed you.” He mutters, taking a few steps back. “I almost killed you, Harry, why did you come back?”

“But you didn't, Tom.” Harry replies, kindly. “You let me go. That, alone, differs from your nature. You're something completely different now, Dumbledore says you're special.”

Tom snorts. “Dumbledore.” Grimacing, he folds his arms. “The asshole tried to open my diary, can you believe it? Like I'm going to let him! He probably wants to murder me himself, or something.”

“The professor, truth be told, is the one who kept you safe.” Harry confesses, Tom rolls his eyes. “It's true. I was gone all summer, but I couldn't take you with me. Dumbledore was looking out for you.”

“I don't need anything from Dumbledore.” Tom said, dryly. “Much less his protection. When I wanted it, he didn't give it to me. Now I don't want it, nor do I desire it.” Tom closes his eyes, and holds his hands to his head. He lets out a whimper of despair, and when his eyes reconnect with Harry's, he glares at him angrily. “I don't know what you've done to me, but I can't take all this...nonsense and emotional outbursts. It has never happened to me. Or maybe it did, a long time ago. It's so foreign to me that I can't function properly.”

Harry pauses to think. “Well, maybe, maybe, you're becoming more human.” He joked.

Tom froze mid-argument, averting his gaze, as Dumbledore did, to his forehead. “Impossible.”

“Tom?”

The older boy seemed to have received the revelation of a lifetime. Harry tried to move closer, when the Hogwarts field turned into a library. “Tom? What's wrong?”

“I need to find out a few things.” He said, quickly, pausing for a moment to look at Harry. “Listen, Harry. I'm...happy to see you again, but can we end the conversation here?”

“I can help you search.” Harry offered, quickly, not really wanting to leave.

“No.” Tom replied, firmly. “I may be wrong. It's enough that one of us is holding out absurd hopes. Besides.” Tom averted his gaze. “I'm not ready to teach you this magic yet.”

Harry stood there uncomfortably. “Oh. Okay.”

“See you tomorrow, Harry.”

When Harry opened his eyes, he was back in the headmaster's cold office.