Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter

WARNING: Some graphic stuff in the middle of this chapter. Snape's secret is not a pretty one.

Chapter 11: Secrets and Lies

Harry and Ginny followed Padfoot out of Hogsmeade and up a short mountain path into a cave. As soon as they were inside, Harry crossed his arms over his chest, his expression decidedly irritated. “Alright, Sirius, you stuck your neck out to get me here, let’s get over with this.”

In a matter of seconds the shaggy black dog morphed into an unkempt, malnourished, and tired-looking man. He barely looked human, dressed in the rags that might have come from his prisoner’s garb, his eyes cold and dark, even as his expression was considerably more amicable. “Nice to see you again too, Harry,” Sirius Black replied. Ginny was still staring at him, trying to suppress the urge to run in terror. She’d been told that Sirius Black was a traitorous murderer for years, and now he stood in front of her, harmless as can be, a pitiful, gaunt figure. “And you too, although I’m not sure I remember your name,” he said to the redhead.

“Ginny,” she supplied. “You’ve been living up here?” she asked, gesturing at their surroundings. Ginny had noticed the old newspapers, a thin cloth that might have served as a bed, and bones of small animals scattered about. Harry glanced at their surroundings.

Sirius nodded, sitting down on the blanket. “It’s not the most comfortable of dwellings, but it’s not Azkaban.”

“But that’s exactly where you’ll be going if someone sees you and figures out who you are,” Harry said. “The Ministry knows that you are an Animagus, Sirius. Daphne told them, back when she thought you were trying to kidnap me.” Harry’s tone was angry, although Ginny couldn’t determine if he was angry at Sirius for putting himself in jeopardy or angry with Sirius for another reason. The man had tried to kidnap him…

“How considerate of her,” Sirius replied sarcastically. “How is the Grey Maiden, Harry?”

“She’s actually staying here,” Harry said. “She’s decided she wants to be close in case of trouble. I’m sure you’ve heard about the Tournament. And she’s been helping me to prepare.”

Ginny watched Godfather and Godson, feeling distinctly out of place and confused by the tone of the conversation. There was a definite tension here, possibly even hostility. She’d never heard the full story of what had happened that night, a night that she’d done her best to forget between the Cruciatus curse…and what she had witnessed Daphne do to her tormentor after she’d rescued her…

Ginny shivered slightly even though the cave was surprisingly warm. But she found herself wanting to know more, to understand what she had missed after Daphne had left her, to understand on what terms the two had parted on and what they thought of one another.

“Well, at least she’s doing that,” Sirius replied. “Whatever her faults, that woman knows her stuff. She was a damned good Auror, and she’d make a fine instructor. That doesn’t mean she makes a good surrogate mother.”

“We disagree on that issue, that much is certain,” Harry replied. “She’s taken care of me, Sirius, and she probably kept me from having to grow up with my Muggle relatives. Putting aside the fact that they aren’t the most wonderful people in the world, I’d be bloody screwed if I hadn’t been brought up a wizard. I have enough left to do and learn as it is.”

“Ah, yes. Your destiny.”

“Black,” Harry said, speaking the man’s surname with disdain, “I don’t need your approval, and truth be told, I really don’t want it. Choose to ignore it if you wish, but you of all people should understand the danger that we face. The Darkness is coming, and even if you disapprove of the methods used to reach that conclusion by Daphne and others, it doesn’t make those conclusions any less valid. Voldemort reached out to me this summer, in my dreams.”

Sirius’s eyes widened. “What?”

“I’ve since learned to block him, at least from a distance,” Harry said. “Professor Snape has been instructing me, and instructing me well.”

“Snape,” Sirius spat the name like a profanity. “Merlin knows what he does while he squirms around in your head.”

“He’s taught me something that no one else could,” Harry replied. “Daphne wasn’t comfortable doing it, and Dumbledore doesn’t have the cruelty required to show me my worst memories.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” Sirius observed.

“Voldemort isn’t going to have any such inhibitions. It’s better that I learn to deal with them now, in a safe environment, than when my life is in imminent danger.”

Sirius could argue with that, Ginny saw. He simply closed his eyes and whacked his fist lightly on the dirt floor. “Damnit, Harry, I just wish you’d give me a chance. I know that we didn’t exactly meet on the best of terms, and I know that I’ve done some terrible things to you, but I swear on your parents’ grave that I had nothing but the best intentions for you. You are more than just a student to me, Harry. You’re my Godson, and I want to protect you, protect your innocence. Let those that have already lost it worry about Voldemort.”

Harry’s response came in a hushed whisper, and Ginny had to strain to hear it. “I would, Sirius, if I had a choice. But the problem is that without my help, Voldemort will win. And I’m not ready to help them yet.”

Ginny remembered the basics of the Prophecy that she and Hermione had finally forced out of him the previous year. He couldn’t remember the actual text, as Daphne had placed a block on his mind to protect that information from others, but he’d basically explained to them that he had a critical role to play in the coming war, and that Voldemort wanted him dead. That he held the key to defeating the Dark Lord.

“I don’t believe that,” Sirius retorted. “Daphne will say anything to make you go along with her, Harry, believe me. She’s as cunning and manipulative a Ravenclaw as I’ve ever met. At least, before, her heart was in the right place. Now…I just don’t know.”

“Daphne didn’t tell me that, Sirius, Dumbledore did,” Harry replied. “Unless you want to accuse him of the same things, then I suggest you accept the reality of my situation and allow my training to continue. As you said, there is no better teacher than Daphne.”

“What about this entire Tournament business?”

“What about it?”

“Well, I’m going to make an optimistic leap and assume that you didn’t enter yourself,” Sirius said. “So how is it that you’ve become the youngest Champion in Tournament history?’

“I didn’t enter myself. Daphne forbade me.” Ginny noted that Harry didn’t tell Sirius that he hadn’t been considering it. She’d gotten the impression that he’d never really given it serious consideration, and that Daphne’s command had basically killed any possibility that might have existed.

“Good for her. At least she has some sanity left in her.”

Harry eyes blazed. “Some thing, coming from a man like you. Imprisoned in Azkaban for over a decade, so obsessed with rescuing you beloved Godson that you knock him unconscious and then use an Unforgivable on him to make him come with you. So desperate to stay close to him that you moved into a cave, neglecting your own health to the point where you are skin and bones, living off of rats and garbage, following the news through week-old copies of the Daily Prophet. So unthinkingly loyal that you walk right into Hogsmeade, knowing or at least suspecting that the Ministry knows that you are an Animagus, walking right up to a girl that you think you remember as being my friend. God, Sirius, I’m not sure what insane is if it isn’t that.”

Sirius’s eyes never left his, and his expression remained set and determined. “Are you quite finished?” Harry nodded harshly. “Well, I suppose that you do have a point. And I might be a bit messed up after spending so much time in the company of those dreadful Dementors, obsessing about my own innocence to prevent myself from losing it. But how does that make my devotion to you and my concern for your well-being any less genuine?”

“I suppose it doesn’t. But neither do Daphne’s actions,” Harry said. “Going by those standards, I’d say that you’re both completely mad.”

“So then why don’t you go to the only one of us that is still sane, go to Remus?” Sirius urged.

“Because I love my guardian,” Harry said. “And I won’t betray her like that. It would kill her, and I’m not prepared to abandon her to her own demons.”

“It’s not betrayal, Harry,” Sirius insisted. “It’s for your own good. She’ll see that, in time. But you aren’t safe with her.”

“Black,” Harry said, reverting to his surname. “Every time that Daphne has done anything to hurt me, there have been, shall we say, extenuating circumstances. I can’t say the same for your actions.”

“Bloody hell, Harry, how’s that possible?” Sirius demanded. “You were bloody well set on killing me because you thought I’d betrayed your parents and the Order, and you definitely weren’t going to agree to come with me willingly before Remus got into the Shack. I didn’t have a choice in either situation. I just hoped that I could get you to see the light once I’d gotten you away from there.”

Harry gritted his teeth, and Ginny could see that, try as he might, he couldn’t deny any of that. It should have frightened her that her friend had been set on killing another person, a grown man, but she wasn’t sure she would have felt any different if she had been orphaned and discovered who was to blame. “You still went about it the wrong way. You could have contacted Dumbledore, asked for an audience. He would have found out that you were telling the truth, and we could have gone about this whole thing in a far more civilized manner.”

Sirius nodded. “Yes, I suppose that I could have done that. But Harry, you must understand…I knew that I was, technically, not guilty of the crimes for which I was committed. Those were the murders of Pettigrew and the Muggles. But of the others…Harry, I hold myself personally responsible for what happened to you parents, and to a lesser extent what happened to all of the Order members that died after he betrayed them, including Edmond Dressler. The Secret Keeper switch was James’s idea, but Lily wasn’t convinced. I fought for it, thinking that they’d be in less danger if the secret was held by a less obvious individual. Instead, I delivered them straight into Voldemort’s hands. And for that, I am truly sorry and ashamed. And that’s why I couldn’t go to Dumbledore.”

“You felt that by rescuing me, you would somehow absolve yourself? That by taking me from my lawful and loving guardian, you would somehow be finding redemption? That’s twisted, Sirius, and you know it.”

“I know,” he admitted. “I just…Harry, I don’t know if I made the right decisions. My intentions were only the best, but my actions were not properly considered and probably did more harm than good. I certainly didn’t make you any more apt to trust me by the time I finally got you alone in the Shack.”

Harry nodded, agreeing with that assessment. “So then where do we go from here? Ginny and I need to get back soon; we’re supposed to be leaving Hogsmeade right now to be back for Dinner.” Ginny glanced out of the entrance of the cave and saw that the sun was indeed setting, a halo of fiery orange fighting through the grey clouds on the western horizon.

“I just want you to promise me that you’ll be careful, and that you won’t blindly accept everything that Daphne tells you. I believe she means well, Harry; in fact, I’ll trust that she does because I have no other choice. The alternative is far too terrible to imagine. Just…think for yourself, alright? Watch your back. And try to get into contact with Remus. He enjoyed spending time with you, and I think he misses that.”

“I’ll do that,” Harry promised. Ginny sensed the thick tension beginning to fade away, replaced by a feeling of mutual understanding. “The same goes for you. Don’t do anything stupid and get yourself arrested. I’ll try to visit during each Hogsmeade weekend. But don’t approach the castle, and don’t go looking for me. If I want to talk to you, I’ll come here.”

“Alright, I can do that. Good luck in the First Task. Any idea what it is, yet?”

“No,” Harry lied, his expression revealing nothing. Ginny resisted the urge to object, knowing that Harry had concealed the truth for a reason.

As the two of them calmly walked down the mountain pass back toward the village, Ginny finally asked the question. “Why didn’t you tell him about the dragons?”

Harry sighed. “Because it wouldn’t have done any good. I’ve already figured out a plan, one that makes use of my strengths, and telling him what I was up against would only cause him to worry, tempt him to come out of hiding to watch me, to protect me even though he’s powerless to. I...I’m not that fond of him, Ginny, but I don’t want to see him hurt or back in Azkaban.”

“He cares about you, Harry,” she told him. “He loves you. You can see it in his eyes.”

Harry ran a hand through his hair. “Yeah, I know. I just don’t know what to tell him. I don’t trust his judgment, and I don’t trust his motives. They may sound altruistic, but he has a personal agenda as well. He thinks that I was raised poorly, and somehow wants to correct that, even though it isn’t possible. He thinks that Daphne is the next thing to a Dark Witch.”

“You know, Harry, he does have a bit of a point,” she said, swallowing some of her fear.

Harry stopped dead in his tracks and met her eyes. “What are you talking about?”

“Well,” Ginny said, suddenly feeling very, very anxious. She had a feeling that Harry would not appreciate hearing the truth, so she decided to lighten the blow. “From what I’ve seen and heard, she’s done some things…some bad things.”

Harry shook his head and continued walking. “Perhaps, Ginny, but we all make mistakes. She’s learned from them. I know she has.”

At that moment, it became painfully obvious to Ginny that whatever doubts Harry might have had about his guardian’s mental state during her first year were gone, buried by Harry’s subconscious. He didn’t want to believe them, wanted to believe that he could trust his guardian. Ginny could understand the feeling, even as she despaired over the result. She wasn’t sure she was ever going to be able to tell him what she had witnessed that terrible spring night in the Forbidden Forest, when she’d caught a glimpse of Hell itself.

Snape’s harsh bark signaled the beginning of yet another mental assault; the mental presence of the Potions Master struck the first barriers in Harry’s mind. But as he’d planned in the hours previous to the beginning of the lesson, he allowed those walls to crumble. He let his own mental presence reach out, brushing against that of the foreign intruder. That presence began to chase his, searching for the most painful memories it could find. Harry led it deeper, and as he did so, he shoved the secrets he sought to protect into the deepest corners of his mind, not unlike a child kicking incriminating evidence under a bed when his parents entered the room. Deeper, further down, until…he struck.

From nowhere, Harry unleashed his stored reserves, blasting the intruder with waves of raw power; saw rays of white light bombard the blackened presence in his mind’s eye. The other presence drew back, and Harry attacked again, harder this time, trying to encircle it, to trap it deep within the confines of his own mind. And as he did so, he brushed against the thoughts of his opposite number…and felt himself sucked the other way, clinging to the presence even as it pulled out of Harry’s mind and back into its own. There was a flash of light, and then…

Around him, familiar surroundings began to take shape. The colors were washed out, weak, and he immediately realized that he was in a very old memory of some sort. He tried desperately to remember how he’d reached this point, but it did not come to him. He stared around at the environment around him. He recognized the damp, dark stones of the Hogwarts dungeons, could almost smell the mildew and mold that permeated the place, despite Argus Filch’s best efforts. The only light was that provided by the torches that hung in brackets attached to the walls, flickering silently and casting strange shadows on the walls.

Suddenly, Harry heard a groan. He spun around, but made no sounds. He hadn’t been present when this memory had been made. He was merely an observer, unable to interact with the others present or his environment. It was a helpless feeling, although it carried with it the knowledge that he was entirely safe, as it meant that those around him could not harm him either.

The source of the groan was a hunched, staggering figure. He was deathly pale, with a gaunt, malnourished appearance and a face dominated by a hooked nose. Bloodshot black eyes peered out behind a curtain of long, greasy hair. It was unmistakably Severus Snape. How and why Harry had entered one of Snape’s memories was unknown, but his curiosity was peaked. Snape was obviously intoxicated, and he retched, his body shaking.

Then, Harry heard voices. Two female voices, one of which was hauntingly familiar. The other of which was one he was both intimately familiar with and yet was strangely unknown to him. Lily and Daphne.

“…I can’t believe that Filch expects me to serve my detention in the middle of the night down in this dreadful place,” Lily was saying. “You really should be here, you know.”

“I’m not letting you roam around here alone,” Daphne told her. “This place gives me the creeps too. I can make my way back, and at least I know that Filch is with you.”

“What if you run into Mrs. Norris?” Lily asked.

“Then I’ll improvise. Say, hang her from one of the chandeliers with a Silencing Spell on her to keep her quiet. She’s just a cat, even if she might be part-Kneazle.”

Harry glanced back at the wasted wizard that had eventually become his Potions Professor, and saw a frightening, crazed look in his eyes. He saw something he never thought that he’d see. He saw lust.

“You can leave me here, really. It’s just another minute or so to the old dungeons that Filch wants me to clean. I had to dig out my crummiest clothing for this thing. I’ll bet that whatever grime I get on the stuff isn’t coming off with a Cleaning Charm.”

“I’m not taking that bet,” Daphne replied. “You know whose fault this is, of course.”

“I can’t believe him!” Lily exclaimed. “Not only does he pull a prank in sight of the girl he keeps asking out, but then he leaves her to take the blame. The size of the…you know what on that man!”

“Yes, very small I imagine,” Daphne said in an amused voice. “Alright, I’ll leave you here. Find me first thing tomorrow morning. I’ll wait outside the Great Hall until you get there.”

“Okay, thanks, Daph.”

“Take care of yourself, Lils.”

Snape had managed to pick himself up and was now waiting around the corner for the now solitary Muggle-born witch. Harry moved ahead of him, and came face-to-face with his mother. At this age (which Harry estimated was fifteen based on the silver Prefect’s badge pinned to her robes), his mother had indeed been quite attractive. Somewhat petite and slender, she had flowing dark red hair and his own shining green eyes. She carried herself with pride and confidence, that of a young woman convinced in her own worth and ability, yet not pompous enough that her confidence became arrogance. It pained Harry to know that she couldn’t see him, that he couldn’t just run into her arms. She was dead, and Harry understood that all too well.

Suddenly, he remembered who was lurking around the corner, remembered what he’d seen in Snape’s dark eyes. He cried a warning, for all the good it did.

Lily appeared shocked by the sight and state of the fifteen-year old Slytherin. “Snape?” she asked. “What are you doing here? Are you alright?”

It was a testament to his mother’s character that she cared enough to open herself, to leave herself vulnerable to attack. Without warning, Snape leapt forward, grasping Lily’s wrists and slamming her against the wall. She cried out in terror, her shriek echoing through the deserted catacombs. “Snape, leave me alone!” she cried again. This time he drew his wand and Silenced her. Then, as Harry looked on in horror, he ripped open the top of her robes, exposing her to her son and her apparent rapist. She cowed in terror as Snape held her wrists against the wall, leaning in close to whisper something. Lily nearly gagged from his foul breath, which probably smelled of strong alcohol. Harry just stood there, understanding at last that he was witnessing the event that had forever earned Snape Daphne’s ire. He just never imagined that the man, as horrible as he be, could have raped Lily Potter.

“I’ve been waiting for this for a long time, Mudblood,” he hissed, his words slurred, yet understandable. Lily’s eyes widened in terror, and she shook violently, her mouth opening and closing but no sound coming out. Harry felt a shiver go down his spine. Rage built within him, and he wished that there was some way he could stop this, someway to incinerate Snape by the very force of his hatred…but he could do nothing.

Fighting his lack of coordination, Snape managed to plant a brutal kiss on Lily’s protesting lips. He placed one of his hands on her waist, the other at the tear in her robes. Lily hadn’t stopped struggling, but Snape had done something to hold her to the wall. He suddenly yelped in pain, and drew back, blood running down his lower lip. Enraged, he struck Lily across the face, cursing.

At this pivotal instant, Harry was blinded by a flash of pure white light. It struck Snape in the side, sending him hurtling through the air. He slammed into the far wall, sliding down to the ground in a heap. Daphne appeared, her face flushed and her eyes searing with hatred. “Bastard,” she hissed. She managed to break away, coming to her friend’s aid. She canceled both spells, and Lily fell into her arms, sobbing and gasping for air. Daphne let her rest against the wall, then drew her wand again and advanced on Snape, who was lying nearly unconscious on the floor, grasping weakly at his surroundings.

Daphne’s intent was clear as she drew her wand back. But as Harry had somehow expected, something stopped her from delivering the killing blow. “NO! Leave him!” Lily cried. “Don’t do it…he’s not worth it!”

Daphne spun around, shock etched in her face. “Why? He deserves it for what he tried to do to you. I’m prepared to deal with the consequences. But this scum deserves to be punished.”

“Just…leave him alone…take me out of here. Leave him be,” Lily said in a weak voice. She got up, legs shaking, holding her torn robes with a hand to cover herself. Daphne didn’t immediately comply. In an instant, she hit him with a powerful Stinging Hex, and he cried out from the pain.

Then she turned, thrusting her wand into her robes so hard it was a miracle she didn’t break it. She supported Lily as the two left. Harry followed them. Lily was still trying to regain her composure and Daphne’s voice carried with it an undertone of rage. “I’ll make up an excuse for Filch tomorrow. If I have to, I’ll get Madam Pomfrey to tell him that you were in the Hospital Wing. She’ll understand if you don’t want to come forward.”

Harry suddenly found himself unable to continue, knowing that he’d gone too far from the source of the memories. He hurried back, and saw Snape slowly getting up. The memory began to collapse around him, but before it did, he was fairly certain he heard Snape speak.

“What have I done?”

Abruptly, Harry snapped back into his own mind. He opened his eyes and found himself staring at Snape, who was in a similar state. The sequence of events that had led to this point abruptly became clear. Apparently, when he’d counterattacked, he’d followed Snape’s presence back into his mind, and had penetrated his unprepared defenses to reach one of his worst memories.

He stared at his Potions Professor in shock. Shock, though, was quickly replaced by outrage. And then an inextinguishable hatred that told Harry to whip out his wand and blast Snape into oblivion. He resisted, barely. “You,” he hissed. “You…”

“Harry,” Snape said, a strange and unfamiliar fear in his voice. “I can explain…it was a mistake, a terrible mistake that I regret…”

“SHUT UP!” Harry bellowed, and several jars shattered from the force of the magic behind those words. “To think that I trusted you, thought you might possess the smallest sliver of decency...” For once, Snape looked extremely reluctant to chastise him for being disrespectful. He’d never seen the man like this before.

“Harry…” he said. “Just give me a chance to explain…”

But he’d had enough. The door to the office swung open, slamming against the wall and inflicting yet more damage on the office. Snape tried to shut it, but he could not overcome Harry’s powerful wandless spell, and Harry marched out of the room, more articles exploding as he left. He needed an explanation, one that he knew he could trust. One thought echoed through his mind again and again.

Find Daphne.

“Tell you what, exactly?” she replied, sounding a bit confused. “There are many things that you don’t know, Harry, and most of them I hide from you for good reason.”

“About Snape. About my mother. About how he tried to rape her when she was fifteen bloody years old!”

Daphne’s expression of shock was quickly replaced by a look of resignation. She closed her eyes and began speaking. “How did you find out?”

“He was giving me an Occlumency Lesson, and I tried something new. I ended up in his mind, and saw the entire thing,” Harry explained.

Daphne sighed. “I didn’t tell you, Harry, because you are fourteen years old and don’t need to hear about such things. I also didn’t tell you because Snape’s lessons are important to your training, and it’s important that you trust him.” She met his eyes for the first time. “I’ve hated him from that moment on, Harry. I’ve never forgiven him for that.”

“Then why wasn’t he expelled?” Harry demanded. “Why did he escape with nothing stronger than a Stinging Hex? I’m pretty sure that the Marauders would have hung his hide from one of the towers.”

“You’re right. And that, in Lily’s mind, was the problem. Your mother was a wonderful woman, Harry, a woman whose compassion and understanding knew few bounds. She had a right temper, of course, but she always gave people second chances. I’m not sure exactly what she was thinking at that moment.”

Harry was silent, waiting for her to continue. Daphne’s voice was flat and emotionless, which was more a technique to allow Daphne to say the words without losing her composure than an indication that she didn’t care that much. “She never spoke of it again after that night. She remembered it, of course, her discomfort whenever she saw Snape, much less approach him, was obvious. Snape and I were the only ones that understood, of course.” Daphne sighed again. “I can’t say I understand your mother’s actions, Harry. I can’t speak for her, because I’ve never been in the same position, but I’d imagined that I’d be outraged, that I’d pull myself back together and take revenge. I have no doubt that had the Marauders learned what had happened, James would have killed Snape. They hated him plenty already.”

“Was that related to the incident in the Shack?” Harry asked. Remus had told him about the prank gone horribly wrong which had resulted in James having to save Snape’s life.

Daphne shook her head. “No, it wasn’t. That happened a few weeks earlier, and perhaps that was part of the reason that Snape had gone and gotten himself drunk. But that was just a prank. Imagine what they might have done if they intended to inflict real harm. That’s what Lily was afraid of. I don’t understand why she felt sorry for Snape, especially after what he nearly did to her, but she did. To be perfectly honest, I was confused by her reaction. She seemed to recover from it remarkably quickly, yet there were lingering signs. Of course…” she trailed off.

“What?” Harry asked.

Daphne took a deep breath, and looked away. “Of course, as soon as my family was killed during the Christmas Break, I stopped focusing so much on Lily’s problems and turned my attention toward my own.”

Harry could have kicked himself for forgetting that Daphne’s parents and brother had been killed that same year. But she didn’t seem to hold it against him that he had. “I’m sorry.”

“You shouldn’t be,” she replied. “You lost your own parents before you even had a chance to know them. That’s a far greater crime in my eyes. At least I had a chance to get to know my family, to create memories that I can sometimes call upon when I feel alone.”

Daphne had never opened up like this before. She’d always been a closed book, unwilling or unable to discuss her past with her ward. She’d told him precious little about her experiences at Hogwarts, or what his mother and father had been like. He’d learned more about their exploits in the past year from Remus than he ever had from Daphne. But now, it seemed as though a barrier had been broken. Harry moved to embrace his guardian, and she accepted. They sat there for a long time, wrapped in each other’s arms, expressing the purest of all love, that that exists between mother and child. For in Harry’s eyes, for all intents and purposes, that’s what she was.

Eventually, they broke apart, sitting in silence on the shore of the lake. “What do you suggest I do about this?” Harry asked. “I made a bit of a mess of Snape’s office on the way out,” he admitted sheepishly.

“Tell no one,” Daphne replied instantly. “I hate Snape, and I always will. But he’s far more valuable to you and me alive than dead. Don’t tell your friends, and never mention this to Sirius or Remus. I have little doubt that both men would be consumed with the desire to make Snape pay for what he did. They loved Lily in their own way, not in the romantic sense, but she was as good a human being as ever existed. She could be short-sighted, and she had a quick and wicked temper, but her capacity for forgiveness, for compassion…well, let’s just say you might not be here if it wasn’t for that. Lily had always liked James…well, the good parts of his personality, and as soon as he proved to her that he’d changed, that he’d matured and grown into a responsible and caring human being, she gave him his chance, and he took advantage of it.”

“I understand,” Harry replied. “I’m just not sure if I’ll ever be able to look Snape in the face again.”

“He’s changed, Harry, in his own way,” Daphne told him. “He’s still a right bastard, and an all-around terrible human being, but there are lines that he’s decided he cannot cross. He never engaged in many of the more horrific acts that his fellow Death Eaters committed. You don’t need to forgive him, but just have the ability to forget it. Let him redeem himself by giving you the skills that you need to survive.”

There was something about Daphne’s voice that said she wasn’t entirely sure she believed her own words. But it was the right thing to say, and Daphne had been right in saying there was little to gain by killing Snape. Still, his fury had barely faded. Snape had had to gall torment him during his first year while hiding this kind of secret. He should have thrown himself at the feet of Lily Potter’s son, rather than choosing to see only his father’s last name and appearance. But now…he wasn’t sure he’d ever be able to trust the man again. And no matter what Daphne said, it wasn’t going to be so easy to forget what he’d seen earlier. That sort of thing stayed with you, embedded deep in your mind. He’d allow Snape to help him. But any affection he might have had for the man seemed to have been swept away by a torrent of horror and rage. However, he wasn’t sure Daphne understood that, and he also wasn’t sure if he wanted her to. Daphne had managed to overcome her reluctance to think and speak about her past by creating and maintaining an emotional distance. He was both annoyed and relived that he wasn’t capable of doing the same.

“Hermione wants me to do more practice with the Summoning Charm,” Harry told her, breaking the silence. “We learned it recently in class.”

“It can’t hurt,” Daphne said. “Even if you are correct in assuming that you have mastered it, there is no harm in confirming that notion. If you are indeed as prepared in that area as you believe, then use this remaining week to relax and unwind, and mentally prepare yourself for what you have to face. If you must, consider alternatives in case this plan fails.”

“I’m not sure there are any alternatives,” Harry admitted. “I certainly can’t fight the dragon unaided, and I’m not advanced enough in Transfiguration for that to be of any help. And we’re not allowed to bring anything with us, which eliminates the use of any kind of potion. The dragon’s hide is thick enough to withstand all but the most powerful of spells, and we’ve since eliminated those from my arsenal.”

“You are to use raw power, either by itself or by infusing a spell with it, only in the case of an emergency or as a weapon of last resort,” she reminded him. “Even if you did manage to maintain consciousness, you would be severely weakened and unable to fight back. You would also reveal the extent of your abilities, as well as your inability to efficiently harness them. We don’t want anyone else to know about either of those.”

“I understand,” Harry said. “I’ve got to grab lunch and then get to my afternoon Herbology Class. Flitwick came down with something, which is why I had this morning free and was able to have a lesson with Snape.”

“Alright, go. Report on your readiness after you practice with the girls.”

Harry nodded and departed, leaving his guardian alone, staring out across the lake, and trying not to think of what would happen if Harry’s plan were to fail.

Harry was currently examining his current project, a Blue Ribbon Vine that when crushed could be used as the central ingredient to a Burn Healing Potion. The thing didn’t require a great deal of care, and adjusted quite nicely to the pot Harry had planted it in, growing steadily to wrap itself around a wood pole at the center. The problem was that they tended to attract a wide variety of parasites which could stunt their growth and consume the very liquid that made the plant so useful. Currently, Harry was searching the leaves and stem for signs of parasitical activity. Fortunately, he hadn’t found any yet.

Professor Sprout was cycling around the room, inspecting the work of her students. For the most part, she was pleased, and took time to both compliment students and make suggestions for how to better care for their plants. When she reached Harry, she quickly looked the vine over and nodded in approval with a slightly-forced smile. She’d been like this since the day that his name had emerged from the Goblet. Harry really couldn’t blame her for being a little irritated. Hufflepuff so rarely had a chance to win glory.

Her presence also reminded him that he needed to find Cedric as quickly as possible. He’d been strangely absent recently, and Harry failed to find him in any of his usual haunts. Perhaps he was training most of the time. If Harry could find him today, he’d have a few days to work out a plan for how to deal with the dragons.

Sprout dismissed them on time, and they returned their vines to the greenhouse. It was early afternoon now, and they had a little over an hour until dinner. Harry decided to use it to seek out his fellow Hogwarts Champion. He thought of asking one of his housemates but though better of it; they’d get suspicious and probably be more of a hindrance than a help. The Hufflepuffs were no longer outright hostile towards him, but that didn’t mean that they trusted him.

Harry searched the hallways, focusing his search in the areas around the entrance to the Hufflepuff dormitory. But his search was to no avail, and with his stomach protesting, he was strongly considering giving it up. Then, finally, he saw his quarry coming down the hall, carrying a load of books from the library. He ran to meet him. “Cedric,” he called. “Cedric.”

The Seventh-Year stopped and frowned as Harry approached. “What is it, Potter?” he asked.

“Dragons,” Harry replied. “The First Task involves taking something from a dragon. Krum and Fleur already know, so don’t worry about that.”

Cedric was still frowning. “Thanks…but why? Why are you telling me this?”

“Because I don’t want you at a major disadvantage,” Harry explained. “As far as I’m concerned, all of use surviving this bloody thing is far more important than any of us winning it. I thought your chances would be considerably better if you knew what you were up against.”

“I…well, thanks,” Cedric said, readjusting the books he was carrying. “Really, thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” Harry replied with a slight smile. “Good luck.”

“You as well,” Cedric said, still sounding a bit stunned.

She shrugged in response. “Fine, I’ll admit that,” she said. She’d insisted that Harry practice the spell at least one more time before the First Task, which was now just two days away. “But I’m not convinced that being able to Summon an object that is twenty meters away and has an unobstructed flight path will be as easy as Summoning something locked in a broom closet hundreds of meters away.”

Harry closed his eyes, and around them, the Room of Requirement began to change. It elongated, stretching far past the original dimensions of the room, and a plan closet door appeared out of the stone of the far wall. He smiled at Hermione, and then glanced at Ginny, who was looking around in wonderment. She never seemed to get used to the capabilities of the “Come-and-go” room, as the House-elves called it. If such a thing were indeed possible, Harry felt that he might have developed an “affinity” with the Room. It seemed to match his ideas more accurately than when Hermione attempted to change something. Perhaps it was the power he possessed; perhaps it was something different; he wasn’t sure. “Accio Broomstick!” Harry bellowed, his wand thrust in the air. One thing that Harry had learned was that it wasn’t at all necessary to actually point the wand at the object to be Summoned, if you both said its name and mentally focused on it. With a crash, the broomstick smashed through the door, leaving a remarkably clean outline, and soared through the air into his waiting hand. The broom he caught wasn’t actually one capable of flight, but he couldn’t imagine that it made a difference. “Is there anything else?” he asked his friends.

Ginny shook her head. “I think you’re as ready as you’re ever going to be, and have thought that for two days.”

He turned to Hermione. “Well, that’s about the most realistic test that you can stage,” she admitted. “Alright, I think you’re ready. You have to understand, Harry, I was only insisting that you practice because I’m worried about you. This is a dangerous competition, and I didn’t want you going in there overconfident and then getting hurt.”

“I know,” Harry replied. “And my success here is no guarantee of my success in the First Task. Getting the broom is only half of the solution. Then I have to fly it and evade the dragon long enough to grab the egg.”

“That, at least, I’m not worried about,” Hermione said. “You’re the best flyer in this school, Harry. That’s your greatest strength.”

“Do you think Krum will try the same thing?” Ginny asked. “I mean, he was going to go flying when you ran into him at the Quidditch Pitch, right? And he’s the world’s best Seeker, according to many accounts.”

“They aren’t going to be giving points for originality,” Hermione reminded him. “So what if the crowd’s disappointed because two people try the same thing?”

“I don’t think he will, anyway,” Harry said. Both girls looked surprised.

“What makes you think that?” Ginny asked.

“It’s fairly simple, actually,” Harry said. “Krum is known for his flying, as you pointed out. But when I spoke with him, I got the sense that he’s hoping to prove that he’s more than that with this Tournament. I think he wants to show that he’s a powerful wizard as well as a phenomenal Quidditch player. I don’t think he’s Durmstrang’s champion because he’s a famous professional; the Goblet wouldn’t care much about that. It chose him because he was the best that the school had to offer.”

Ginny nodded in understanding. “Do you have any idea what technique he might use?”

Harry shook his head. “No. It’s not really my place to worry about that, either. What he does in this task does not affect what I do. I’ve settled on a plan, and I’m certain that with the First Task so near at hand, he has as well.” He noticed that Hermione was biting her lip. When she did that, it meant she was worried about something. “What is it?”

Hermione sighed, then said, “Honestly, you aren’t really thinking about winning this, are you? I mean, what will that accomplish?”

Ginny frowned. “Hermione, the Triwizard Tournament is one of the most legendary competitions in wizarding history. Winning it, especially at his age, would be a tremendous honor and a very noteworthy accomplishment.”

“While that’s true, Ginny, Hermione is right in this case,” Harry replied softly. “I really don’t care that much about winning. If I do, I’ll enjoy it and the rewards it brings, but this Tournament isn’t that important in the grand scheme of things. Merlin, it’s almost a distraction. My priority for this event is survival. Anything else is secondary.”

“I never thought you’d actually agree with me,” Hermione said, sounding a bit dazed.

“I do, Hermione, because it’s the right attitude, and the undeniable fact is that my survival is far more important than my winning the Tournament. I’m going to make the same promise to you that I made to Daphne,” Harry said, meeting her eyes before flicking his gaze to Ginny’s. “I give you my word that if an opportunity comes to win glory or achieve something that puts my life in more danger than it already is, I won’t do it. I’m not going to play hero. I’m going to protect myself by limiting my actions.”

Hermione smiled. “Thank you. Honestly, that makes me feel much better about this whole thing. Don’t take this the wrong way, Harry, but your ambition and competitive drive makes me nervous at times. I was a bit terrified that you might be dead-set on proving yourself now, while the eyes of the wizarding world are upon you.”

Harry’s serious look caused Hermione’s smile to rapidly fade. “Hermione, I am determined to prove myself. But I’ve come to the understanding that it will not happen here, in a competition that, for all its history, is still just a game. What I need to prove is something that I can only prove in a much greater, much more dangerous and volatile arena.” He closed his eyes. Even if it might seem as if he’d been thinking about this for a long time, the reality was that he was discovering the truth even as he spoke the words. “I need to prove to everyone that I can fight, that I can lead, that I can make difficult decisions and easy ones. I need to prove to them that I have a chance against Voldemort, that joining me is not a death sentence. They’ll have little reason to trust a teenager who tells them he can go head to head with the most powerful Dark Wizard in centuries and win. As they say, ‘actions speak louder than words.’”

Ginny went pale. “Does that mean..?”

Harry frowned. “No, of course not. I’m not going to go after Voldemort, or even seek to fight him. I’m not ready yet; he’d tear me apart. But I need to start getting ready. I need to train, I need to learn. Because sooner or later, I will have to face him, will have to lead his enemies against him. That’s my destiny, and I don’t need to know the words of the Prophecy to understand that. And that day will come sooner than you think.”

“Then we’ll have to enjoy what time we have before it comes,” Hermione said, her voice resigned to the inevitable. As she did this, she gave Ginny a meaningful look, one that, as she’d hoped, Harry failed to pick up on.

“I expect that your father feels the same way,” Harry replied.

“You know the answer to that question,” the fair-haired pureblood heiress replied. There was no hint of annoyance in her voice, but her choice of words made it clear that she was unhappy with the situation. “My father has a great deal of faith in you.”

“Faith that I assume you do not share,” Harry said.

“I can’t pass judgment, Potter, because I’ve never seen the full extent of your capabilities. I am a practical person, and I believe in tangible results. Not promises, not assurances, not threats. If you give me a reason to believe in you, then perhaps I will come to see what my father sees. But if you don’t, I can’t see that happening.”

Harry asked a question that’d been in his mind for quite some time. “What do the others think of me?” he asked. “I ask not because I am egotistical or worried, but only because I am curious and do not know.”

“I’m not sure I believe that,” Greengrass replied. “But your question is innocent enough, and as I’m sure you are aware, I know much of what is said and done here, especially within the walls of Slytherin House.”

“Then what can you tell me?” Harry asked. He was trying not to seem desperate or worried. Truth be told, he wasn’t either. At this point, it wasn’t that important to gain the support of his House. He’d known for a long time that he’d have to earn that respect on his own. This was not Hufflepuff, or Gryffindor, Houses whose members were known for banding together in times of crisis. This was Slytherin, and they were best known for protecting their own interests and refusing work with others if they stood to gain nothing tangible in reward.

“I can tell you that you aren’t that well liked around here,” she said. Harry had expected that. “It’s not so much that people hate you; most of them have come to understand that you belong in this House, regardless of your blood heritage or connections to the Light. You’ve definitely won some people over with your Quidditch victories, something that I have little but contempt for.”

“My abilities?” Harry asked.

“No, I realize that you are quite skilled. But the hero worship that accompanies it…in all cultures, athletes are somehow lifted up upon a pedestal for doing nothing more than what one is supposed to do. It is the reasonability of every witch or wizard to develop and use their power to the best of their ability. You were born with instincts for flying that I lack. That does not mean that I should view the manifestation of those skills, the Quidditch Cup, for example, as any test of your true worth.” Greengrass didn’t sound bitter, although she disguised her emotions so well that she might well have been. “Personally, Potter, I feel you have accomplished little worthy of praise. The fact that you have managed to survive a number of dangerous situations is negated by the fact that it was your mistakes that got you into those predicaments. I believe that one must lie in the bed that one has made, and that if you do something foolish, it is your responsibility to correct it. Relying on other to do so is a sign of weakness. There are tasks that are only fit for servants, of course. But I do not speak of preparing meals.”

“I understand,” Harry said. “Are these the thoughts of many in Slytherin?”

“To an extent, yes,” she said. “Like I said, they don’t actively dislike you because of your athletic accomplishments. It is worth noting that if they had not made certain assumptions and misjudgments in the first place, this would not have been necessary. Potter, whatever you may think of me, I gave you a chance because I have learned that it is dangerous to make blanket assumptions. I have admitted to misjudging you before, but I tried not to judge your character until I had a chance to observe you.”

“I appreciate that,” Harry said.

“You don’t need to,” Daphne replied. “Again, it’s something that I feel should be expected of any responsible witch or wizard.”

“What of my classmates?” Harry asked.

Greengrass leveled her gaze at him. “It’s a mixed bag,” she said. “Malfoy and Parkinson don’t like you, nor do his juvenile bodyguards. Bullstrode thinks very little of your ability and disapproves of your relationship with Granger. Zabini is idealistic, unusually so for a Slytherin, and thinks well of you. Davis really doesn’t care. Nott is definitely intrigued, but I’ve been unable to determine his true perception of you. In general, Potter, the older Slytherins distrust you, and the younger ones admire you. Take from that whatever you wish.”

“I appreciate this, Greengrass.”

“If you spent more time with the rest of us, you might not need me to tell you all of this,” she reminded him. “But I suppose that it is wise to stick to those you know that you can trust. Both of them have their strengths and weaknesses. That they do not come from families considered acceptable by Slytherin standards means nothing to me. My family has always been…liberal in that sense,” she explained. “If you want to know what I truly think, Potter, I believe that witches and wizards are innately superior to Muggles. But as for Muggleborns, any such judgment must be made on a case-by-case basis. Granger is a powerful and capable witch, whereas the Creeveys are weak and uncultured.”

“What about Reisor?” Harry asked. “You didn’t mention her.”

“That’s because I don’t know what she thinks,” Greengrass replied. “She’s as much a mystery to me as she is to you. I don’t know where she comes from, who her family is, or what she’s capable of.” She left it unsaid, but it was clear that those facts bothered her.

The pureblood heiress turned to go, then stopped. “I’m going to assume you’ve already managed to find out what is in store for you in the First Task. If you haven’t, I must say that would lower my opinion of you somewhat. Are you prepared, Potter?”

“As much as I’ll ever be,” Harry replied.

She nodded. “Good. Because I’ll be most displeased if a person that my father thinks so much of cannot survive a simple competition. It will not say much for his judgment, which I already question. Good day, Potter.”

So, how was that for Harry's first post-SoD conversation with Sirius? The two are going to be forced to get along with each other, whether they like it or not. Sirius has always reminded me heavily of Ron, albeit a better student and more magically gifted, in the good and bad ways. His aversion to Dark Magic isn't going to go away, nor is Harry's growing dedication to learning its secrets. Eventually, one has to choose which path they are going to follow, when they come of age. Just because Harry's devoted to toppling Voldemort does not make him a Light Wizard. Dark does not equal evil.

Snape has dark memories, period. You can tell, that if it weren't convenient to have him alive, Daphne would have killed Snape years ago. Snape is also clearly sorry for what he did. The purpose of this revelation was two fold. First, Harry was getting too close to Snape. Even though they are both Slytherins, Harry repesents the "moral" side of Slytherin. Snape is about as dark (not capitalized for a reason) as it gets without joining Voldemort. He has a sliver of a conscience, a shred of decency, that separates him, as well as his loyalty to Dumbledore. But I didn't like the idea of Snape becoming a father figure. Considering who he is, that just isn't appropriate.

I'm not going to pretend I'd understand how a young woman would be feeling after a traumatic event like that. I tried to rely on Lily's chracter for that. It's said that many victims don't seek help, and I felt that by attributing it to Lily's compassion and a bit of her own fear, it would seem realistic.

Daphne Greengrass is a reluctant ally, and hides her emotions well, but she has a growing loyalty to Harry, one that can only be strengthed if he makes it through the year alive. Her father has taken a big risk by practically allying himself with Harry, and she's unsure how wise that was.

Yes, Harry warned Cedric this time around as well. To him, Diggory is a decent, hardworking, honest person.

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