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"I regret to inform you, Mr. Potter, that the war is not yet over."
Harry’s jaw all but unhinged, and he stared directly at Snape. A deep breath gave him a moment’s cover to consider his memories carefully. Yes, Voldemort had definitely been dead, and the last Ministry official he’d seen the day before yesterday had been quite hung over from some sort of celebration, which he’d heard about in detail.
"But - Voldemort-" He’d managed to think it through, but not quite enough to be able to do anything but stammer.
"Yes, Harry," Minerva interjected. Harry watched as she tucked her wand firmly beneath her green sleeve. Her hands folded neatly in her lap, and she did glance at Snape before she spoke again. "That part of the war is won. He is gone; however-”
Harry slumped as two and two came together. He and Hermione had spent long nights discussing how Voldemort’s cause had lived for the eleven years without the man’s physical presence, and whether or not he’d truly been gone. They’d concluded that the Death Eaters were the likely culprits, and considered the lot of them carefully, one by one on the long cold nights in the forest. Hermione had pointed out more than once that Voldemort’s funds and followers had seemed endless, questioning it, not satisfied to chalk it up to Death Eater family vaults turned over to his control.
"Who was behind him?" His voice was low, trying to ask reasonably rather than piss Snape off with a demand.
"That will be discussed, Mr. Potter. Only behind wards of this calibre, and only after you have mastered the spell yourself."
"Severus." Minerva exchanged a long look with the other professor, sighing.
Snape shook his head before he continued, clearly not willing to give in to whatever Minerva was asking of him. "In time, and after you have mastered certain spells. There is certainly enough information to keep you occupied in the meantime."
"Like what," Harry demanded, leaping to his feet as his frustration slipped it’s leash. There wasn’t a great deal of room inside of the ward, he noticed, and that was aggravating. Except for some reason, he didn’t feel trapped. However, there was not enough room to pace the way he wanted.
"Sit DOWN, Mr. Potter."
Minerva took a breath, glaring at Snape who was obviously gearing up for more than a barked command. She was clearly willing to make another attempt at whatever she’d thought to ask or say earlier, at least. Harry recognized the look. "Severus, despite the laws, he is an adult-"
Severus let out a breath, shaking his head. Long moments passed, while he appeared to be considering, his long fingers steepled, tapping slowly. Finally, he focused on Harry, who shivered a little under the intense gaze. "Myself. Professor McGonagall. Filius Flitwick. William Weasley and Charlie Weasely. Poppy Pomfrey. These are the individuals who will protect you. You will not speak of these matters outside of this named circle without prior approval from myself and a selection of those six individuals. Congratulations, Mr. Potter, you are yet again a target."
The words fell heavily into the unusual silence of the room, as it lay contained within the advanced ward. Harry glared at the potions master for long moments, briefly transferred his annoyance towards Minerva, then finally subsided uneasily back down onto the ottoman.
"You have got to be kidding me," he muttered, trying to arrange himself comfortably, and failing.
Snape barked a short laugh. "If only, Mr. Potter. If only."
There was another long silence. Harry glanced at the curiously silent fire - of course, he thought, the floo would have to be excluded from the wards. He considered how he felt about the new information, and just barely managed to refrain from rolling his eyes at his professor. Snape had been pretty civil so far, and Harry thought he’d rather keep it that way.
"What do I need to do this time?" When he finally broke the hush, Harry’s voice was soft, but firm and determined. He was steeling himself internally. Really, if you got right down to brass tacks, he’d thought Voldemort had been gone for good several times. That had held until he learned of the prophecy, so getting up his determination was a rather familiar feeling.
"That will come in time, Harry," Minerva said, leaning forward and laying a hand on Harry's shoulder. "For now..." She glanced up at Severus. "We expect you to settle in with Severus - we have begun planning a set of summer courses for you. It is higher education than most Hogwarts students receive-"
"But I'll have to attend in the fall," Harry finished with a sigh. He’d rather enjoyed the freedom in the world outside of Hogwarts, in the moments where he wasn’t running to save his hide. Really he’d quite hoped that he might enjoy some time just relaxing, without someone looking at him like a trophy hunter’s prize, ready to skin him and nail his head to the wall like the elf heads in Grimmaud House. So much for enjoying his evil overlord-free summer.
"That is correct," Snape replied. "There will be no further carelessness with your education." His black eyes gleamed as he looked at Harry, who felt as if he were being weighed and measured somehow. Perhaps Snape was probably considering Harry’s spotty student history, but when Harry considered it, it felt a little different - Snape was quite passionate in his words, as few as they were, something Harry was quite unfamiliar with.
Harry blinked on the thought that Snape cared about his education. Minerva rising and shaking out her robes caught his attention, which was now beginning to wander, overwhelmed by all the information - and yet not enough information. Harry frowned again.
"Harry, you are welcome to floo my office or my quarters at any time. Contact me via floo first, and then you are welcome to send your patronus to carry secure information. I need to leave you with Severus," she said, and vanished with a crack of Apparition, leaving Harry's jaw hanging open.
Snape was quick to speak. "The castle wards have been severely damaged in the battle, elsewise the apparition would not be possible. It is not safe to be out in the castle halls after dusk. As a matter of fact, the dungeons are in particular wretched disrepair, so you can consider yourself confined to quarters. No,” he said holding up a hand. “A matter of safety, nothing more.”
Harry just stared, unable to quite form the question just yet. He was well aware that the professor had just apparrated through a quite serious ward, and according to Hermione, it should have fallen after Minerva left the room. Severus smirked at him, clearly mistaking Harry’s expression for something else.
"There will be rules."
"Yeah," Harry managed. He’d ask about the ward later. That Snape had a set of rules in mind wasn’t a shock, not even the slightest surprise, and he found he didn’t mind the restriction to quarters - the dungeons were not his favorite place, but there would be plenty of time to find out exactly where he could go. "Professor McGonagall -"
Snape’s smirk dropped away, leaving a very serious looking potions professor, who swept his long, dark hair away from his face. "You are free to contact her at any point, Mr. Potter, make no mistake. I would prefer it be within the rules which will be outlined this evening. Is there any further discussion requiring wards?"
Harry stared at the man, then forced himself to think, though that felt like an entire failure and waste of effort. He drew in another deep breath. "Not at this time, sir," he said, trying to match the man's tone, which was far less hostile than he expected.
"There is... one more thing."
Harry waited quietly, and Severus seemed to observe his patience, for the man almost smiled. He knew he’d been one of the man’s biggest headaches for years, he could do his best at least, to not be a headache now. Or any more of a headache than Dumbledore had made him. Harry repressed a sigh.
"I hold no animosity for you, Mr. Potter. Your actions, if rash, are admirable over the last months. You... you are your mother's son, as well as your father's. I hold no illusion that this will be a simple matter, to leave six years of animosity aside. But I wish to put forth the effort, and I will hope that you will ease the path ahead of us by endeavoring to do the same."
Harry swallowed, unable to do more than nod. Snape was speaking very quietly, almost gently for the man, though his words still fell heavily into the air, rife with import and strain.
"However, it will be best if in public, there is some evidence of that old animosity. Do you understand?"
"Yes." He did, really, and he was hoping that it meant that Snape’s quarters wouldn’t be as dreadful as he’d imagined several times in the past few hours, when his imagination had gotten away with him briefly during the silences.
"Yes..." Snape’s deep voice trailed off, and Harry could tell that the man seemed to be searching for something, some sort of reply from Harry. Who had no idea of what the man could possibly want. Harry shook his head, hoping his bafflement showed.
"Respect, Mr. Potter."
"Yes, sir," Harry said, more easily. Aha, he thought to himself. Maybe he thinks it will be easier if we’re more… formal with one another? We’ve always said yes ma’am to Professor McGonagall… He made himself stop contemplating things - that sort of fog was a bad sort of habit to get into, if they were still at war. He focused on Snape’s face.
Severus inclined his head, and twirled his wand, dropping the wards. Harry stared in shock. All the effort they’d put into putting the thing up, and Snape could just drop it with a gesture?
"Come with me," he said, nodding at a corridor off to the left of the fireplace.
He opened the door on a tiny little room, one that had room for a bed, a bedside table, and a single straightback chair on the other side of the bed. Harry wondered if it was to be his room, but glanced at the curtains, from behind which a shimmer of glass was visible. An enchanted window, perhaps.
"You need to rest, Mr. Potter. As do I."
Harry nodded, exhausted, and sat down on the edge of the bed, which was surprisingly nice. He wouldn’t mind some time to think, and he was pretty tired. Except if he was going to bed, he’d really rather have pyjamas. And, he thought with a twinge, he’d left the Elder wand inside his trunk, having first transfigured it into a miniature broom, not wanting to have it potentially visible in the presence of unknown people in the castle. He definitely needed to get back up to the dormitory.
“Is there a problem, Mr. Potter,” Snape drawled. Harry realized he was frowning, and tried to straighten out his expression into something easier for Snape to deal with.
"Um. I need - well, perhaps Professor McGonagall-"
"Go," Severus said, gesturing back at the sitting room and the floo. "Ask her to step through, if you need. Keep it short."
"It’s not exactly that,” Harry tried to temporize. “For the night, I mean, my trunk-" He’d asked Snape about that earlier, come to think about it. He’d made quite a bad assumption, thinking he’d be allowed back to his dormitory after Professor McGonagall had fetched him earlier.
"Ah," Severus said, sounding as if he understood. However, he strode into the room and opened a tiny cupboard over the bedside stand, pulling out what appeared to be two serviettes. He eyed Harry carefully and murmured something, pointing his wand at the serviettes. A pair of warm looking striped pajamas popped into existence with a little poof of vapour. "Wash up, and then floo if you need." The man pointed directly at a door down the hallway, where a gleam of tile was visible.
Harry swallowed hard, scooping the pyjamas up, and vanishing down the hall. He struggled for a few minutes with the array of unfamiliar potions in the washroom, though they were clearly labeled in Snape’s spidery script. Washing up he stared at himself in the dim mirror, working through his options, wincing as he realized an accio through unprotected hallways would be a bad idea. He sighed finally, knowing there wasn’t going to be around letting Snape know he was still in possession of the Elder Wand, and that he’d left it in a potentially unsecure location - though Poppy had told him he was safe, he’d remembered. Harry sighed, and trudged back to the tiny room.
Snape was leaning on the doorjamb when he returned. “Well?”
“I’m sorry,” Harry apologized. It would be best to just get it out, Snape had never tolerated any nonsense out of his students, and Harry was no fool to expect that the new and reformed Snape would be sympathetic and understanding to the information he was about to learn. “I am sorry, but I really need-”
“Back to the sitting room,” Snape suggested calmly, surprising Harry. Harry trailed after the man, down the hallway, aware that his feet were cold against the stone flags of the floor.
Minerva was seated next to the fire, a wineglass in her hand. Harry managed to mutter an appropriate greeting to her, and his head swivelled around, looking for Snape, feeling very uncomfortable.
Severus handed him a mug, which contained something that looked like pumpkin juice, but was warm, and spicy to the scent. Spiced pumpkin juice, with a little chocolate.
"Something warm will help you sleep, Mr. Potter, I recall you have trouble with that from time to time," Minerva said. "Now, you wished to speak with me?" Severus rose at that, and went into the door he'd pointed out earlier as his study.
"I don't know what to-"
"A good night's rest may help," she suggested kindly, and Harry tried not to squirm in place, sipping at the lovely drink while trying madly to figure out how to downplay his issue, and still wind up with his trunk down here with him in the dungeons. And the Elder Wand back on his person.
"He, I - dungeon quarters," Harry tried awkwardly when she raised an eyebrow.
"Of course, Mr. Potter. You need a proper place to stay, the dormitory alone is no place for a young man. You needn't worry that Severus will misunderstand the need for time to yourself - you've spent a great deal of time on your own, as dreadful as I found that. Rest assured, I will watch over you," she said. "And with more excellence than before, I should hope."
It was quite reassuring, but he still didn't know what to think. Taking him in was a kindness he'd never expected of Snape, and the man's new, quiet demeanor was baffling, even after his professor had explained the current lack of animosity. And Harry was tired. He nodded, exhausted, as McGonagall bade him to rest. She stepped back through the floo before he could figure out what to say, and Snape re-emerged into the room as he stared after her, frustrated with himself and the situation.
"Mr. Potter."
Harry hesitated, then looked up at the man stubbornly. "Harry."
"Very well then. Tomorrow's agenda is lengthy."
"I, my trunk..."
"We will bring it down tomorrow. The wards on the castle presently are cyclical, and not thorough. It was not feasible to take a risk - unless there is something critical you have left there?"
Harry sank down onto the hearth, head in his hands and sighed. “Yes, sir.”
“What exactly, Mr. Potter, could be so critical that we must need risk danger to acquire it?”
“Um, a few magical items acquired in the last year,” Harry managed to say, plainly, though he did quite enjoy the initial look of shock on Snape’s face, it darkened quickly to a very familiar anger. “I wasn’t going to carry anything dangerous into a meeting with unknowns, it’s all protected, but - “
Snape stuck his face into the floo, after giving Harry a calculating, measured look. Harry tried not to fidget.
“McGongall!”
Her surprised face appeared in the coals.
“The brat insists that he wants his precious trunk. I won’t have any more of this foolish-”
“Oh pish-tosh, Severus. I’ll have it down in a quick shake,” she said, withdrawing.
Harry and Severus waited, Harry fidgeting in discomfort as Snape’s intense gaze fell upon him and stayed. Shit. He would be in a world of trouble, leaving something like that, but he couldn’t exactly… His trunk landed on the hearth a moment later, and he drew it towards himself with relief, vanishing off towards the little room and listening to Snape and McGonagall snipe at one another though the floo connection.
Harry stared at the tiny room, trying to puzzle out where to put the damn trunk, finally setting for the end of the narrow bed. He knelt before it, lifted the lid, and pulled the miniature broom out with a sigh of relief.
“And for this, we risk ourselves,” Snape drawled. He was definitely unhappy, but Harry recognized the fact that the man was holding back and was grateful for it.
Harry bit his lip, and cancelled the transfiguration. The Elder Wand and it’s holster lay squirming in his palm as they reverted back properly, the distinctive triple knob of the wand’s handle clearly visible to Harry, though not, apparently, to Snape.
Snape's eyes widened. "That... that is a Stygian Concealment Holster. What in Hades could you have in a Stygian Concealment Holster, which you further felt the need to transfigure-"
"Huh?" Harry shook his head. It was just a wand holster, though it was loads more comfortable than the one his own wand lived in. He flipped back the magnetic snap, and drew the wand out fractionally, so that Snape could see.
The man's eyes closed now, and he pinched the bridge of his nose. Harry waited for him to breathe, knowing it would be a shock, and hoping that his deference would pay off and not result in a famed Snape explosion of temper.
"Mr. Potter - Harry - while that wand is in this castle, you are well advised to leave it in that holster. It's magical signature cannot be detected there. It would... present a risk. If you were to expose it."
Staggered by Snape’s continued calm - not to mention the use of his name - Harry took a deep breath. "It was on my nightstand last night. In the holster,” he hurried to add.
"We will have to hope that it was not noticed. You should not have been allowed in the tower last night as it is, it is not well warded..." Snape shook his head, looking pained. He stepped out, and Harry sagged down to sit on his closed trunk, the holstered Elder Wand clutched in his hand.
There was so much to think about, so many variables, and possibilities. His mind rested briefly on each of the people Snape had named earlier, trying to fit the puzzle pieces of personalities and talents together. Trying to see how they worked, much as he and Ron and Hermione always had, and how the Order of the Phoenix worked. He paused, mulling over whether or not Professor Flitwick had been a member of the Order. He hadn’t remembered the diminutive professor, but-
Snape was back within moments, three thick volumes from the sitting room’s bookcases in his hands, gazing at them thoughtfully before pinning Harry with an intense gaze. Harry shifted in place. "I must inquire. Are you able to sleep, wearing the holster?"
"Yes," Harry said quietly. He didn’t like to, he would swear that his dreams were odd when he did, but he’d certainly done it enough while they’d been on the run all that time.
"Please do so. I will annotate the pages in these volumes, you will need to create a warded space for that wand, it would be ill advised to have it on your person always. That is... part of the lore. You must not be defeated magically, while physically carrying it."
"Isn't being made a ward of the castle rather a defeat, at my age," Harry asked sarcastically.
Snape actually flinched. "It did not involve spellcasting. And clearly it was not on your person. No. We will - you will spend time with these volumes tomorrow," he said, laying them on the bedside table. Harry noticed the man’s hands were shaking.
"Snape-"
Severus followed Harry's gaze. "Ah," he said, and pulled a series of small vials from one of the inner pockets in his voluminous robes. He swallowed them, and returned his gaze to Harry. "Healing potions. There are some lingering effects from the venom."
"What potions," Harry asked, nearly belligerently.
"I will tolerate your frustration for the time being. Come and see," Severus said, motioning to Harry, who followed him out into the kitchenette. Snap set the four vials back into the cabinet, holding the door open. "A nerve regenerator, a blood purifier, anti-cruciatus, and a nutrient solution," he said, drawing a second set out slowly, and pocketing them. Harry could see that the shelves were labelled in Snape's crabbed handwriting, the same as the potion stores, and it was immediately obvious that the potions were what he said they were - Harry had taken enough of all of them over the years, and Snape carefully opened the vials to demonstrate their contents, seeing Harry’s intense scruitiny. "While the cabinet is open, do you have need of dreamless sleep, or any other item? It is locked to my magical signature," the man said stiffly.
Harry grimaced. "I've overused the dreamless sleep."
Snape nodded, expression still calm, but serious. "We will discuss that tomorrow-"
"I had to!" If he had to explain all of the-
"I am not debating that fact, Mr. Potter. But as your guardian I have a need to know about things like potions sensitivities, wouldn't you say?"
"Yeah," Harry muttered, flushing. One point to Snape for keeping his temper, and one point from Harry for forgetting that Snape was trying to be… not a bastard.
Severus let the lack of formality pass. "Go on and rest. I am easily awoken if you need."
Harry eyed him wryly, thinking that he didn’t sleep so soundly himself either, and Severus chuckled, clearly understanding, though the sound startled Harry a little.
"Exactly." Snape pointed at the hallway, and Harry shook his head as he headed to the tiny room and it’s comfortable bed, laying down while Snape stood back in the doorway for a moment before pulling the door to behind himself.
Harry blinked awake in absolute blackness, disoriented. He’d meant to lay for a while and think over all of the everything that had just happened, but clearly he’d fallen asleep. The darkness loomed in, feeling suffocating, and Harry scrambled for his wand in a panic, casting lumos. He gasped for a few minutes, recognizing the lid of his trunk, open at the end of the bed, and the tiny room he was in. He made his way to the washroom with his lumos, and back to his room, closing the door before he sat on the bed, mostly settled down. His breathing was still a little ragged, and he repressed a gasp as there was a tap at his closed door.
"Yes?" He hoped his voice wouldn’t betray how shaky he felt, after waking in a panic like that.
"Mr. Potter."
The door eased open, and Harry had his wand at the ready, when a soft glow around the doorframe illuminated the area to reveal just Snape.
"Mr. Potter," the man repeated.
"Sorry, sir," Harry muttered, rubbing his eyes and feeling awkward as he quickly stood up, trying to be respectful.
"Have a seat, Mr. Potter," Snape asked, indicating the bed, even as he moved into the room and seated himself on the plain straightback chair, leaning forward a little. His dark eyes studied Harry intently, and Harry felt himself flush under the scrutiny. "Let me teach you a spell. Attend," he said. His tone was so different, it provoked Harry into watching intently, not questioning. The wand movement swept up, to the left, right, and then down. Snape nodded at him and Harry repeated the motion as Snape sat watching carefully. "A more intense angle - yes. The wand angle affects the power of the spell. Now. 'Indicate praesidio integritatem!'" Harry tried not to startle, Snape had projected his voice rather loudly - but room, which had been dimly illuminated from the lamps in the hallway, lit up brilliantly - a beautiful network of differently colored lines, all floating. It was extremely peaceful.
"Sir," Harry breathed, and Snape smiled. Harry barely noticed the unusual expression, captivated by the web of light on the walls of the small room.
"Finite incantatum.” The room was plunged back into semi-darkness, still lit by the glowing doorframe. “Try the words alone."
Harry didn't argue, focusing. Snape corrected him a few times, but once he had the inflection to Snape's satisfaction, Snape let him cast it, incantation and motions both together. The light show wasn't as brilliant, but it was there.
"You are observing not only the wards, but their integrity. Keep in mind the spell is visible to others, if you are thinking to use it in the castle. We will depart this weekend for other quarters, you may use the spell off campus without restrictions."
Harry breathed very carefully, eyes fixed on the illuminated wards. His mind was blank, he couldn’t even quite bring himself to reach for something to say to his professor.
"Now, sleep," Snape commanded, and Harry laid back on the bed without really thinking about it, looking at the still-visible wards, and watching as Snape passed easily through them. The light danced around him, and his eyes drooped lower, finally finding restful sleep.