Taniwha

by Elsa (elsapphire71 @yahoo.co.nz)

Rating: PG

Fandom: Harry Potter

Category: Fantasy, Drama

Spoilers: Though GoF, Post-Fifth Year AU

Disclaimer: Harry Potter and the other inhabitants of the world of Hogwarts belong to J K Rowling and Warner. I am making no money from this.

Summary: At the end of his fifth year Harry is sent to stay with Snape. Same old, same old, but with different scenery.

Author's Note: The chapter titles were nicked from the album "The Piano" by Michael Nyman (score to the movie of the same name).

Chapter One: To the Edge of the Earth

Harry dropped his bag at his feet and stared around the station glumly. He had no idea where he was, but wherever he was, it was raining.

It had been a beautiful twilight when Dumbledore and Snuffles had collected him from Mrs Figg's house, where the Dursleys, who had just left for Spain, had sent Harry to stay. An entire summer with the weird old lady — and her cats — was still preferable to summer with the Dursleys. Harry looked down at the Portkey (an old flea collar) clutched in his hand and sighed. With Voldemort and his supporters becoming stronger he'd hoped to be able to stay at Hogwarts and help... somehow. Hermione had been allowed to stay. Her parents worried about their daughter's safety in the Muggle world. Mr and Mrs Weasley had given strong hints that Ron, Ginny and the twins would be staying over the summer, too. Many other students would be staying from Gryffindor, Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw — and even Slytherin, depleted though its ranks were. Draco Malfoy and his cronies certainly wouldn't have been there. Lucius Malfoy had sent his son off to Durmstrang for the school year just ended, and where Lucius Malfoy's son went, other Slytherins followed.

Mind you, Harry thought with a small smile, from one of the many rumours flying around Hogwarts it was unsure where or even if they could follow Draco; apparently his blond opponent had run away from Durmstrang.

As for the rest of the Slytherins, even Snape wouldn't be there. He had been absent for most of Harry's fifth year, his lessons often filled in by a much more pleasant teacher from Beauxbatons who, being unable to speak much English, had pretty much left the students to their own devices. Harry couldn't say that anyone other than Hermione had learned anything, but he could say that Potions had been much more fun. Snape had barely been seen in the last few months and Harry's godfather Sirius had happily told Harry that the slimy git wouldn't be skulking around Hogwarts. Sirius, on the other hand, would be an important addition to the unofficial summer staff. Remus Lupin would be a frequent visitor. Yes, for once Harry had been looking forward to summer.

Now he was somewhere else. Somewhere cold. Somewhere with wind and rain and a very small shelter by a railway line. Somewhere Dumbledore had told him he would be safe. Harry stopped smiling and wrapped his cloak around him. What could be safer than Hogwarts?

Somewhere Voldemort wouldn't even think of looking, Dumbledore had told him seriously, the usual twinkle in his blue eyes absent. The old wizard had looked... old, Harry thought unhappily, hunching up and sticking his hands in his armpits for warmth. Mrs Figg, of all people, had snapped back to reality for a whole five minutes to explain that as Harry's powers were still unknown and his precise value in the war against Voldemort was (likewise) unknown, he needed to be sent somewhere the Dark Lord couldn't find him. Somewhere safe.

Somewhere someone would collect him and keep him safe. An icy blast whistled through the cracks in the shelter and down the back of Harry's neck. It had been nightfall when he left Mrs Figg's; it could only get darker and colder. Somewhere a dog barked. He heard another set up an answering howl. He shivered and wrapped the summer-weight cloak tighter.

A long way in the distance he thought he heard a rooster crowing ... did roosters crow in the night? He wished Hagrid was here — Hagrid knew these things. Hagrid might even be able to tell him why the sky seemed to be becoming lighter.

Harry squinted, wishing he had a compass. Portkeys were so disorientating. They left you thinking north was south, east was west, and day was night. Then again... perhaps it was an odd effect of the light created by cloud cover, but the sky did seem to be lightening. Had he been sent further north? This was cold enough to be Northern Scotland. He perked up at the thought. Maybe he'd been sent to stay with Professor McGonagall's family? There was gorse over there on the embankment and further down the tracks. Gorse was Scottish, wasn't it? The rain had eased to a light freezing drizzle and the sky was getting brighter, and he thought he could hear cows and sheep. He jiggled up and down to keep warm. Maybe this wouldn't be so bad after all. Professor McGonagall's family were reputed to be powerful wizards and might be able to teach him how to become an animagus. He smiled at the imagined expressions on Hermione's and Ron's faces when they saw him turn into a... what would he turn into? It would be great if he could —

There was the crunch of tyres on gravel. The low purr of a Muggle car engine that was cut off.

Shivering but optimistic, Harry picked up his bag and peered around the side of the 'shelter'.

A dark grey four-wheel-drive, shiny and new-looking in the rain, was parked nearby. Harry didn't know what sort of car it was — it looked like it had some truck in its ancestry and was made for different roads than Vernon Dursley's sedan. Its lights caught the drizzle briefly before they flicked off. The driver's door opened and a tall figure unfolded from within, shrouded by a raincoat. Harry fingered his wand, uneasily reminded of the Death Eaters from the last time he had faced Voldemort. But although he couldn't make out details of the face, there was no white mask and the 'cloak' was a dark brown raincoat. No Death Eater would wear scuffed work boots like those splashing through the puddles, either. Harry grinned to himself.

He walked to meet the figure as it — he: no woman was that tall — glided up the rough steps. Harry shaded his eyes against the rising sun (rising sun?!?) to see the face of the person who would be hiding and protecting him from Voldemort.

All thoughts of the incongruity of the sun rising at night flew out of his head. "Oh no!" Harry couldn't help exclaiming. "You?"

Snape glared down at him with his sourest expression. "Oh no. You."

Harry sat silently in the car as they drove south. He guessed the direction by the fact that the sun was rising on his left. Over in that direction he thought he could see the sea, but with the sun in his eyes it was hard to say for sure, and for sure he wasn't going to ask Snape.

Snape hadn't said a word since he had ordered Harry to pick up his luggage and, at the sight of Harry's pitiful bag of books and Dudley's hand-me-downs, he had raised an eyebrow and asked silkily if Harry had at least remembered to bring a toothbrush. Harry had scowled and nodded, ears burning with embarrassment. On top of his disappointment at being sent to stay with Snape (a bare second to staying with Voldemort) he didn't want the slimy Potions master finding out about how bad his only relatives were. The comments that could lead to about his mother weren't worth thinking about.

By the time the sun had risen enough for Harry to see that the water really was the sea, they had turned inland. Harry was disappointed. Again. He'd never seen the sea.

It was a long drive. The road began winding through steep country dotted with sheep. It was almost familiar, yet alien enough to be disturbing. Harry stared at his hands and brooded on this latest misfortune to come careering into his life. The road became steeper and more winding. He began turning green.

"What's the matter?"

Harry jumped and nearly threw up. "I think I'm getting carsick."

Snape hissed something about Quidditch under his breath and pulled the car over. Harry wound the window down and took in deep gulps of the frigid air.

"It helps if you get out and walk for a time."

Harry wondered fleetingly if Snape meant that he should walk the rest of the way to wherever it was they were going, then realised he didn't care. He got out.

Yes, it was better to get out and stretch his legs. Somewhere overhead a bird was singing. It was silenced as a hawk glided down over a ridgeline and turned lazy circles over the paddocks. Harry breathed deep of air scented with sheep, gorse and snow. He sighed it out, wishing Ron or Hermione — even Neville — were here, and got back in the car. At Snape's raised eyebrow, he shrugged.

"Try looking at the horizon," said Snape, in what was, for him, a civil tone.

Harry was too astonished to answer.

Some time after noon they stopped in a small town. Harry sat in the car while Snape got out. He took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes tiredly. According to his internal clock it should be after midnight.

"Well?"

Harry blinked out the window at Snape, who was regarding him with thin patience.

Snape narrowed his black eyes. "Are you hungry?"

Harry nodded. What he really wanted was a place to sleep, but dinner (a cream bun and a sausage roll a la Mrs Figg) hadn't really filled him. It had merely given his earlier nausea a starting point.

"Then you can start by getting out of the car."

Harry frowned as he swung his legs out the door. Snape was using unfair politeness. He didn't know how to cope with this. "Should I lock the door?"

"No."

In that case, thought Harry, he'd take his bag. Ignoring Snape's sneer at his meagre possessions, he swung the bag over his shoulder and followed his teacher down the main — and only, as far as he could see — street.

Snape looked different, Harry mused as he walked behind the man. He'd only seen Snape in robes. In the Muggle clothing of jeans (black, if rather worn), sweater (also black) and shirt (ditto), he looked different. He really wouldn't have fitted into Hogwarts like this, but, from looking at the other people on the street, Snape didn't look particularly out of place. In fact some of the people nodded and even smiled to him as they passed without being glared at for their impertinence. Now Harry knew he really had come to a strange and alien land.

A bell over the door announced their arrival in a clothes shop. Harry had hoped for something from the pie shop they'd just passed but wasn't about to ask Snape for anything, and he hadn't brought any Muggle money.

"This is a Muggle shop," Snape murmured to Harry. "I'll be telling them you're my cousin's son sent to stay with me. And if I find I need to do a memory erase on them because you try one of your little tricks you'll be spending the summer descaling every volcano in this country."

Harry was about to reply angrily but was cut off. "Sev! Welcome back." A burly man with a moustache a bit like Uncle Vincent's was up a ladder at the back of the shop stacking shirts. "What can I do yer for, mate?"

"Clothes for the boy, thanks Alex."

Alex stomped down the ladder. "Okey-doke. What exactly were you wanting?"

"He'll need to be kitted out for a High Country winter," Snape replied smoothly. "My cousin's son — from England. They sent him out with summer clothes," he added with a sneer.

Alex sucked his teeth as if in pain. "Maureen! Get out here!"

"Whaddaya want?" yelled a woman's voice from out back.

"Sev's got family staying. Needs clothes for a lad."

Harry heard Maureen mutter something along the lines of: "Don't friggin' believe it," but it sounded more like good-natured disbelief than a complaint. A thin woman emerged from the back, wiping her hands on a teatowel. "Sev! Thought we'd seen the last of ya for the winter. And now you turn up with family. You'll be the death of me, surprises like that." She grinned, her leathery brown face creasing into weather-beaten wrinkles. "Time for a cuppa?"

Harry waited for the outburst. He turned, expecting Snape to have grown two feet in hauteur, but saw that he was leaning up against the counter with his arms folded and the hint of a smile on his face. "Been baking?" Snape asked hopefully.

Maureen laughed, showing missing back teeth. "You bet, luv. Chocolate chip bikkies — you kids' favourite. How about you... didn't catch yer name."

"Harry..." Harry replied weakly.

"Harry. Want a cup of tea and some biscuits?"

He glanced up at Snape, whose expression was giving nothing away. "Yes please."

"Good-o. You three get started on the clothes, I'll put the jug on."

By the time they left, Harry was convinced he wasn't just in a different land, he was in a different dimension. He had four new pairs of jeans; shirts, sweaters, a natural-wool jersey knitted by Maureen, socks, underwear, pyjamas, shoes, leather boots and Wellington boots ('gumboots', they were called in this dimension), and to top it off, a woollen hat in Gryffindor red with matching scarf. All paid for in cash by Snape. He was trying to work out when he'd need the black-and-blue 'swannie' jacket and if he could get used to the strange smell of the 'oilskin' raincoat when Snape led him back to the car.

"Put it in the back," Snape ordered, then peeled off some Muggle money from the roll in his pocket. "Go and get yourself some food while I purchase extra groceries. And if you get into trouble..."

"I know, I know... volcano descaling."

Snape's ebony eyes glittered down at Harry. "Do not be impertinent. Volcanoes are currently the least of your problems."

Harry was too hungry to argue. He took the money and headed for the pie shop. Alex and Maureen had been great people, but what they had said had been disturbing. It was winter here in the mountains. Chances were good that he would be snowed in wherever he was going, possibly for months, which was why they'd suggested Snape get extra supplies. He began wishing for a normal summer with the Dursleys instead of being... wherever he was. He selected two pies, a cake, and a bottle of coke. As he was handing the note over to the sullen gum-chewing girl behind the counter he paused.

The money was $20. In New Zealand currency.

He was on the other side of the world.

"Well? Are you gonna pay or not?"

"Um... I just realised I'm in New Zealand."

She gave him a look. "Well done. Did it take you long?"

"To get here?"

"No, to realise." She snatched the money and gave him change. Then, at his mute stare, said, "Anything else?"

"Um. No. Thank you."

She shrugged and looked past him, apparently at nothing, chewing on her gum.

Harry sighed and left.

So this was where Snape had learned his manners.

Harry helped Snape load boxes of groceries into the back of the Toyota. For some reason two dozen white roses had been included, looking out of place lying on the more mundane tins of peach slices and pineapple pieces. Snape grunted as he slung yet another heavy sack of flour down next to one of the sacks of rice, and straightened carefully, mindful of his back. Harry had lost count of how many bags of sugar there were. The sheer bulk of the supplies made him nervous — where were they going that all this was going to be needed? Was there anywhere further to go? Antarctica? How would Hedwig cope with penguins? Then he remembered with a small pain that the snowy owl would be staying in the Hogwarts owlery over summer (their summer, my winter).

"Put your seatbelt on."

Harry knew better than to disobey. "Why do we need so much food?"

For a moment he thought Snape wouldn't bother replying. Then: "Not all of it is for us. Others will get the greater part." He glanced sideways at his passenger as he drove the car out of town and towards the snow-topped mountains. "It's winter here. Although the likelihood of our being completely cut off from outside food sources is remote, prudence requires me to ensure we are adequately supplied on the off-chance we get snowed in." He paused to change gear. "—Or the river rises too high to be forded."

"But we could just levitate over the river, and snow doesn't stop broomsticks, and although I'm not licensed to Apparate you must be..." Harry trailed off at Snape's thin-lipped annoyance.

"Did Dumbledore give you any instructions on the use of magic while you are here?"

"He said I should avoid using my wand, and of course no student is allowed to use magic over the holidays..."

"I seem to recall you being sent several warnings about your... use of magic over the holidays." Snape's lip curled as he carefully enunciated Harry's phrase.

You shouldn't let him get to you... Harry repeated Hermione's advice like a mantra inside his head. "That was different..."

"It always is."

Snape braked as a hawk flew off something dead on the road ahead, then drove on as soon as it was clear the hawk was out of the way. Harry looked at the road behind them as the car went around the next turn to see that the hawk was back tearing at the road kill. He began to feel carsick again. He wound down the window and took a deep breath.

"I know the dangers. I know that Voldemort is tracking me through magic. I know that because his wand is linked to mine and my blood is in him he can find me if I cast a spell. Dumbledore told me all that."

"Did Dumbledore also tell you that you were to give your wand to me to ensure that no 'accidents' occur while you are here?"

Harry took a sharp breath. No, Dumbledore certainly hadn't told him that. "I left it at Hogwarts. With my godfather." There. No way would Snape try to contact Sirius Black to discover that Harry had lied to him.

"Really."

It was lucky Snape was driving, Harry thought: he hated the way those dead black eyes seemed to bore into him after the truth. "Really," he replied stiffly, glaring out the window. "Do you think I'd've let you look after my wand?"

"Not really," Snape replied, sounding almost amused. "Wand or no, there will be no magic. Not by you, not by me. If it snows and we get cut off, fine. There's a wood burner and plenty of wood. There is food and you have your studies to keep you occupied and out of my way. Your Potions scores in the last exams were quite pitiful and some extra work will do you no harm — quite the opposite, in fact."

Harry rested his head against the window and wished he was in Spain with the Dursleys.

"He's back! He's back! Mum! Maman! He's back and he's got someone with him!" Two boys on a shaggy white pony were cantering alongside the car, waving to Snape and shouting.

Snape ignored them.

The car pulled up before the long, low porch of a long, low, weatherboard house. The horse ambled to a halt in front of the steps, the boy with the reins making an obvious effort to appear like a dashing rider stopping a half-wild steed, and the horse obviously not giving a hoot what the boy wanted so long as he was allowed to stand still and let the damn' creatures get off his back.

"Uncle Sev! Did you get us anything at the airport?" The younger boy had slid off the pony and was jumping up and down like an overexcited house elf. Harry almost fainted as he climbed out of the car and followed Snape up the steps. 'Uncle Sev?' Did this dimension have a name? Oh, that's right. New Zealand.

"No, but I got you some chocolate. Rona?" he called out. "Maman? Anyone home?"

There was no answer, only the younger boy complaining, "Aww... I wanted a travel patch..."

The older boy, who had tied the horse's reins to the rail (unnecessarily in Harry's opinion — the poor thing looked like it was about to fall asleep) smacked the other across the back of the head. "Don't be rude, Eru."

"Oww...! Uncle Se-ev! Chad hit me!"

"Don't hit your brother, Chad. If he doesn't want his chocolate you'll get it."

"Excellent!"

"Awww! Uncle Se-ev."

"Don't tie Solomon to the house, Chad. Maman will go crook. Where's your mother?"

"They must've gone up to help Uncle Wirimu get the last of the sheep checked," said Chad, following Snape back down the steps. "One had a bit of a cold and Uncle Wiri said he'd be using the last of that mix you made up so if you could make up some more while you're here that'd be really good and Mum said if she's not around when we got home from school she'd be up in the high paddock and Maman had been saying that she wanted to get a bit of exercise in —" he took a breath "— before the snows hit and she must have gone up with Mum so's she wouldn't take a fall and hurt her hip again and 'cos she hasn't come out already she must still be up with Mum. I think. Who's this?" Chad jerked a thumb at Harry.

Snape had already started picking bags out of the back of the car while listening to Chad's chatter. "His name is Harry," he said shortly as he slung one of the flour bags over his shoulder. "He's going to be staying for a time."

"Cool," said Chad. "How long?"

"Until he goes back," Snape replied blandly. "Chad, why haven't you untied that horse?"

"Doing it now. I'll put him in the paddock. Harry, wanna come?"

"Harry will be helping me unload."

"Eru can help you carry stuff in too, Uncle Sev."

"Awww..."

Snape sighed. "Eru, go and help your brother with Solomon. Don't forget to put the cover on him — he's looking a bit scruffy."

The two boys were back quickly. Harry was helping Snape put the last of the bags in the kitchen when Chad and Eru burst in.

"Are you and Harry staying for tea?" asked Chad, grinning at Harry. Harry found himself smiling back — the other boy looked to be Harry's age and seemed naturally good-natured. Eru, who had even more freckles than Ron, couldn't have been older than nine and hung back shyly, choosing to watch Harry from behind Snape as Snape (ignoring Eru) put the smaller sugar bags in a cupboard over the sink.

"No," Snape replied, disappointing Harry. "We'll make do up at my place."

Chad shrugged at Harry and Harry shrugged back, sad he wasn't going to get a chance to know these kids better. "Mum'll be mad if you don't stay for dinner," Chad said disingenuously. "And Maman'll just drag you down anyway to cook for you 'cos you brought up all this stuff for us and Uncle Wiri said that Canterbury're going to be playing the Highlanders and it should be a really cool game..."

Snape glared down his nose at the boy. Chad just grinned back up at him. "It's getting late," Snape said, "and Harry's had a long trip. Best to get him settled in." He dug in the pocket of his shirt. "Here. Chocolate. If you're going to eat it before dinner and ruin your appetite then it's in my best interests to be out of the way of your mother."

Chad grin widened. "Fair enough. But Maman'll want you guys down for dinner some time soon. And Mum'll be curious to meet someone from your family."

Snape sighed. "I know."

Harry thought he saw worry flicker through Snape's eyes. It could have been a trick of the light.

The rest of the journey didn't take long. Snape drove in silence, and Harry had a lot to think about. After carefully fording a stream they travelled a little way along a dirt track, and Harry began to appreciate the abilities of the four-wheel-drive. Otherwise, he supposed, they would have had to borrow that horse. He bit his lip to stop grinning at the thought of Snape on the shaggy old pony. He stopped smiling when he realised the car had stopped outside a white cottage. It was as though a piece of England had been picked up and put down in the middle of nowhere. The sun as it sank over the mountains shone rosily off the walls. On the south side ivy grew, stopping just short of the shingled roof with its brick chimney. There was no front lawn, but herbs made good ground cover and short bushes Harry didn't recognise bordered what would be a delightful garden in summer. It was so warm, such a friendly little house, Harry wondered how Snape had managed to get hold of it. Certainly it was at the opposite end of the spectrum to the Slytherin dungeons.

"This is your house?"

Snape twitched an eyebrow. "So I have been informed."

Harry kicked himself inwardly. "I meant that it's so... um..." He stopped before he could dig himself deeper.

"Quite. Get your things."

There was a slight tingle as he crossed the border of the herb garden. For the first time in a long time Harry felt... safe. He sighed in relief.

"Well? Is The Boy Who Lived now The Boy Who Forgot How to Walk?"

"I thought I felt..." Harry didn't want to say safe. That was too intimate to share.

Snape relented a little. "There are wards around the house. They have been here longer than you or I have been alive and it's in both our best interests that you do not interfere with them. I seriously doubt you have the skills to do so, but if you do ..."

"More volcanoes?" Harry asked sarcastically.

"No," Snape said softly, his eyes distant. "If you interfere with them Voldemort and his Death Eater horde will be able to reach in and pluck you from this house and there won't be a damned thing either of us can do to stop them."

Harry nodded. "I understand," he said quietly. Suddenly very tired indeed, he followed Snape into the house.

Chapter Two: Deep Into the Forest

Someone was shaking his shoulder. Harry jerked out of a dream where Hermione was being branded with the Dark Mark and found himself looking up at Snape. This sight was only marginally better than the nightmare. The man had untied his hair from the ponytail and it was back to hanging over his face in a greasy curtain, and he was wearing the familiar black robes of a Hogwarts professor. Harry discovered he must have fallen asleep on the couch. "Wha'...?"

Snape stepped back, looming against the lantern light and casting his shadow over Harry. "Put your robes on."

"Sir?"

"There is a ceremonial introduction to be performed."

"Do I need to do anything?"

"Wear your robes. Oh, and you'll want to wear warm clothes underneath as well as good walking shoes."

It was getting dark quickly. Snape handed Harry a lantern. "Remember: no magic."

Harry followed Snape outside into an evening cold and smelling of snow. A three-quarter moon was rising over the trees. In one hand Snape carried a second lantern; the other hand was tucked into his robes. Their breath hung in the air and was turned silver by the moon. They walked along old sheep tracks that wound through stringy grass and tussock that held bits of wool. Snape's path took a sudden turn downhill, and Harry found he had to walk carefully unless he wanted to take a nose-dive. Not a good idea, as wool wasn't the only thing the sheep had left behind.

Tussock turned into scrubby trees that smelled damp and even colder than snow. The trees also had some strongly alien, resinous smell that made him wrinkle his nose, unsure that he liked it or not. Harry brushed up against one of them and something crawled onto his shoulder.

"Aaah!" Harry brushed at it but it clung. Then it stung his hand. "Aa-ow!"?

Snape hurried back up the path. "What the —?"

"There's a giant insect on me!"

"Hold still." Snape grabbed Harry's wrist and peered at the boy's upper arm. "Stupid boy," he spat. "No — leave it alone. You've frightened it enough already."

"Careful — it stung me."

"It did no such thing." He gripped Harry's shoulder while the insect crawled up Harry's arm and onto Snape's hand. He carefully lifted it off Harry. The insect seemed to calm down, and waved its long feelers in the lamplight as Snape lifted his lantern to examine it closer. "It seems unharmed," he murmured, more to himself than to his student.

"I'm telling you, it stung me!" Harry protested, ready to squash the bug.

Snape pointed a long finger at the brown insect's back legs. "It kicked you. Those barbs are its chief defence."

"Then what's that big stinger thing?" Harry demanded, pointing at the insect's rear.

Snape smirked. "That's called an ovipositor. Meaning that this is a little lady whom you have been mishandling."

Harry found himself blushing and wasn't sure why.

With the utmost care Snape replaced the bug in one of the trees with the tiny leaves and strong smell. "Now keep up, keep quiet, and stop wasting my time."

Harry kept his dark thoughts to himself as Snape turned in a swirl of black robes and stalked off down the track.

The track got steeper. No self-respecting sheep came this way, it would seem, because there were masses of ferns covering the track as they went deeper through the tall, thick-trunked trees. The ferns looked soft in the lamplight, but when Harry brushed his fingers along a frond it felt harsh. Then he tripped on a tree root and fell into a bed of bracken. He lay there for a moment, his head spinning, angry at Snape for leading him here, Dumbledore for sending him here, Sirius for not having the time to look after him, the world for...

"Mister Potter? Are you still alive?"

Snape sounded like he didn't care much either way, Harry thought bitterly. Well, what's new? And I've been in worse messes than this and dealt with them with more maturity. He picked himself up and checked the lamp. By some miracle of Muggle technology it hadn't gone out. "Sorry," he said. "I think I'm over tired."

Snape paused. "It has been a long day for you," he admitted grudgingly. "But we're nearly there. Can't you hear it?"

Harry cocked his head, listening. "I... I think I can hear running water."

"Yes. The stream will be low at this time of year — all the water is trapped in snow and ice. But the thermal pool is fed from underground and is never empty."

Thermal pool. That sounded warm. Harry liked the sound of that. Maybe he could come out here tomorrow for a swim.

"Careful. The track gets slippery and if either of us breaks a leg we can't risk magic trying to rescue ourselves."

They slithered down what seemed to be a fern-covered cliff. Harry fell the last few feet, landing with a bump.

Everything went black.

He pushed his robes back over his head and stared around in wonder.

The light cast by the Muggle lamps was almost magical. Bluebells that gleamed like stars were scattered under mossy trees that had been old when Hogwarts' foundations were being laid. The ferns whispered softly in the glade, but there was no wind. Everything was still. The only noise was that of a trickling stream running over gleaming black rocks. Harry lifted the lamp higher to see where the stream went.

Steam rose from a pool in the centre of the glade, turning lazily in the yellow light like one of those dreams that are lost as the dreamer wakes. The water was as black as Snape's eyes. It looked like a hole into the Earth; a gateway.

Snape waded through ferns to the edge of the pool opposite the stream where there was a large slab of creamy rock. He motioned Harry to follow. Snape knelt on the rock, facing the centre of the pool. Harry did the same after an impatient glare from Snape.

"Grandmother." Snape's voice was low and soft, but it started the mist swirling into new patterns. "Grandmother, I have brought the boy for you to see. He is here under my protection. I ask for your acceptance of him and what he means. I do not ask for me — I ask only on his behalf." He bowed his head, his face completely shadowed by his hair, and reached into his robe. "A gift for you, Grandmother," he said as he drew out a wreath. "The new; bound, framed, strengthened and graced by the old. As it always has been. As it shall always be."

He gave the wreath to Harry. "I ask that you accept it from the boy's hands."

Harry fingered the wreath. Roses — he could smell them — the white roses Snape had bought, twined into a circle with ivy.

"Put it in the water," Snape whispered.

Harry obeyed silently, not daring to say a word. He leaned forward to place the wreath flat on the black water that lapped against the stone. With a gentle nudge, he sent the flowers towards the middle of the pond where the steam was thickest. As it neared the centre the water began to ripple. Steam gathered, hiding the flowers. Harry thought he saw the roses glimmer once, briefly, like stars through clouds; then they were gone.

The mist cleared.

The water was flat, black, and empty as Snape's eyes.

Snape sighed in relief. "You have been accepted." He stood up. "We must leave now, and quickly."

"Is it dangerous here?"

"It will be soon. Look."

The first snowflakes were falling.

Harry was later to remember the hike back as one of the worst walks of his life. He was so tired that he kept tripping over his own feet when the ferns and clumps of grass weren't already doing their best to break his ankles. The snow fell thicker and colder and tightened his circle of lamplight to only a few feet around him. He kept his eyes on the tall, thin, black-clad figure before him, half-frightened it would disappear and leave him, half-wishing it would so that he could lie down and get the sleep he so desperately craved.

At long last the wards around the house caressed his mind. He stumbled inside the door and fell into a chair. Just half a minute to rest his eyes and he'd get up again—

When he woke up there was sunlight. It hadn't been the sun that had woken him — Harry could have sworn he heard something sliding down the steep roof directly over his bed. But when he listened all he could hear was the distant song of a blackbird. It must have been a dream. He was in bed up in the attic, dressed in the new flannel pyjamas Snape had bought for him. However he had got to bed was a brief worry — Harry could smell coffee, baking bread and frying sausages. Breakfast was much more important.

Snape must have heard him moving around, because by the time Harry, yawning and attempting the impossible task of combing his hair into order with his fingers, came out of the trapdoor and down the ladder from the attic, Snape was putting breakfast on the table. "It's lunch, actually," Snape said conversationally. "You needed your sleep. I would have woken you soon, however, as I'm expecting visitors."

"Oh? But I thought it was snowing last night? Can people travel through snow without magic? Thank you," he added, belatedly remembering politeness as he sat down at the table while Snape put a plate of fried sausages, tomatoes, eggs and French toast in front of him. Harry dug in.

Snape settled at the table with a cup of coffee and some French toast. Harry still found it disturbing not seeing Snape in his familiar robes. "It snowed, yes," Snape said. "But not heavily. A bit of snow keeps the river low, and curiosity does the rest. Besides, Chad and Eru have a pony to ride. Horses can go where cars can't, and the boys are very interested in meeting you."

"Oh?" Harry wasn't sure if this was good or bad. It was impossible to tell what Snape thought — his eyes where back to being dead black tunnels. They reminded Harry of... "What happened last night? At the pond, I mean."

Snape frowned, but not at Harry. "This country is... well, young and old, is the best description. Many of the ancient energies and genius loci associated with particular areas and phenomena are still very much in evidence. Humans — Muggles and otherwise — have made a great impact, but the land retains a multi-strata quality..." His frown deepened into annoyance at Harry's blank look. "Basically," Snape said acidly, "Humans live at one level of reality, and elemental creatures live at another. Occasionally there is interaction between the two levels, usually when a human does something stupid — and that's the lowest common denominator of what being human entails — or, and what is extremely rare, an elemental has a level of awareness that allows it to perceive the humans in its surrounds. That," Snape said after a sip of coffee, "is the situation with the elemental in the pool. She slowly became interested in humans over the course of several hundred years." He paused, thinking. Harry waited. "It took that long for us just to get her attention. And now we have it, it's not something to be squandered or lost through disrespect." He glared at Harry, and continued in a low, menacing tone, "And with elementals, respect is key. You will remember that while you are here. You have been introduced to her. She has noticed you. More than that, she has accepted you on my behalf. She has extended the aegis of her..." Snape paused, searching for a word... "her power, in a sense, over you. Those wards around the house you felt, she made those before I was born." He stopped as he coughed and poured himself more coffee, and Harry felt that somehow his Potions master was withdrawing further into himself. "Even I haven't been quite so stupid as to remove those," Snape muttered.

Harry began to feel quite uncomfortable with the tone of the conversation. He was used to Snape's anger being focussed outwards — at Harry in particular. Seeing the bitter rage turned in on itself was... disturbing. He needed Snape to be strong — right now Snape was the only person Harry had and here, in this strange land, he would have welcomed the snarky, slimy git of the Potions classroom. Well, maybe 'welcomed' was a little too strong, but... "You called her Grandmother." He very carefully did not look up, but the sudden look Snape flashed him was tangible enough to make him flinch.

Harry almost bit through his fork when there was a knock at the door. He got up, the tension over breakfast reminding him so strongly of the Dursleys that it seemed like his job to answer the door, but Snape reached over and clamped a hand on his shoulder, forcing Harry to stay in his chair.

"Stay there," Snape hissed. "You do not open this door for anyone while you are here." He stood up and whirled, not needing his robes to appear predatory, and stalked over to the door. Harry watched as the man pressed his palms flat against the wood, eyes closed. Then Snape nodded slightly and the tension seemed to drain out of the room.

It was Chad. "Hi, Uncle Sev." He peered past Snape into the room and grinned. "Hi, Harry!"

Harry waved back.

Snape stood in the doorway, arms folded in a posture that would have made Neville Longbottom wet his pants. "Aren't you meant to be at school?"

Chad's grin grew so wide it seemed like the top of his head would come off. "Snow's closed the roads. Try saying that ten times fast."

Snape refrained. "Yet you could still ride up here."

"Mum sent me to check on you and give you some messages. Breakfast?" Chad asked hopefully.

"Lunch for you, I suppose." Snape let the boy in. "Help yourself. I'll go and put a blanket on Solly."

"Cool. Ta, Uncle Sev."

Snape disappeared out the door.

"There's a place I wanted to ride out to. We call it Grandmother's Pool," Chad said as Solomon cantered along the river bank. Harry kept his arms tight around the other boy's waist — being doubled on a pony was not like riding a broomstick! "Has Uncle Sev taken you there yet?"

"Unc- ah, he took me there last night."

"Roses or lilies?"

Harry clutched tighter as the pony took the curves in the river bank like a dodgem car. "R- roses."

"When Mum brought me and Eru back for the first time she got Uncle Sev to take us up to the pool with her. She put lilies in. That was to, like, say that she was back home. Lilies for girls, roses for boys. Dunno why. But apparently Grandmother has her quirks. She..." Chad wrapped his hands in the thick white mane as Solomon decided to charge up a bank. The pony stopped at the top, puffing and admiring the view down the valley while the boys pulled themselves back up towards the head end of the horse. "She likes the flowers to be white, that's all."

"How do you know all of this?"

Solomon shook his head and snorted great gusts of steam.

"Mum told me."

"Is it true?"

"Dunno. But if it is then the world's a better place, and I get to be one of the special people." Chad flashed his trademark grin back over his shoulder as he nudged Solomon into a walk. "You too, now. Grandmother Taniwha has accepted you, so that kind of makes you family, bro'."

"Cool." Harry grinned.

"Mind you, you would've been family anyway, seeing as how you're some sort of cousin to Uncle Sev."

Harry didn't know what to say to that. "Um..."

"...But you're not really, are you," Chad said with a shrug. "Don't worry, if he wants people to think that you're family then that secret's safe with me. I know he seems a bit weird sometimes, but Uncle Sev always has his reasons and they've always been good ones."

"You trust him?"

Chad tensed, his shoulders squaring — for the first time taking offence. Solomon tossed his head and snorted again. "You don't? Then what the hell are you doing here?"

"No, I don't trust him. But he's looking after me for... for a friend of ours." Although Snape and a friend of ours together in the same thought was enough to give Harry a headache. "I can't tell you why, Professor Snape'll get really mad and..."

"'Professor Snape?' Geez, now I know you're not related. If you call him Professor, that must mean you're from that weird school of his, um... something to do with pigs?"

"Hogwarts," Harry replied stiffly.

"Sorry, didn't mean to rubbish your school. I'm sure it's a great place and all..."

Harry didn't like the unspoken implication. "But...?"

"But Maman and Mum and Uncle Wirimu all say that it was the biggest mistake ever when Old Snape sent Severus away to school. They reckon it changed him. He used to be really quiet and guarded when he came back for holidays, even with Maman and Mum, and then one year... one year he didn't come back at all. Didn't come back for ages. Not until his father died about eight years ago. Then he came back and tidied up the cottage. Maman told me all about it — Mum was living up in Auckland at the time, you see, and I was just a boy. So what's your school like really?"

Harry shrugged. Chad obviously knew about Hogwarts and had a strong opinion on it. Not an opinion that Harry felt was justified, but he had spent enough time around Ron in a prickly mood to guess that Chad was being negative about Hogwarts as some sort of payback for Harry's subtle objection to Snape. That there were people here who took a bad word against Snape as a personal insult was yet another strike against any normality this country might want to lay claim to. Harry tucked that away for further consideration because he wanted to be friends with Chad. And he wouldn't make a friend out of Chad by insulting his friends and family.

Even though Snape had warned Harry against talking about his background, Harry decided that there wasn't that much more trouble he could get into. Besides, apart from the fact that Chad already knew quite a bit, he had the feeling he could trust the other boy, and he desperately wanted to talk to someone. "It's the best place in the world," he said truthfully. "What do you know about it?"

"I know that it's where Uncle Sev was sent to be a learn to be a wizard..."

"You know about... um...?"

"Magic?" Chad snorted, sounding briefly like Solomon. "Maman's a witch. Mum got a letter inviting her to Beauxbatons, and so did I — oh, and I got one for Hogwarts seeing as Dad's a pom — but she reckoned that after a foreign school turned Uncle Sev so sour there was no way any others in the family were going to go. Uncle Wiri went to Beauxbatons for a few months, but when he got home at Christmas my Gran took one look at him and said, 'Boy, you're going back to France over my dead body.' Eru and I have mostly been home schooled."

Harry opened his mouth, but Solomon started to walk again. How Chad was controlling the animal was a mystery. The reins were held loosely in Chad's hands and Harry had the sense that the pony was finding its own way. "You don't want to go to a magic school? Not even Hogwarts?"

"Nah. I'm happy here. The school we go to teaches normal stuff as well as a bit of magic stuff depending on what tutors are around. And I'm learning heaps. We have our own magic in this part of the world, and Uncle Sev tutors me and Eru when he's home."

"Isn't Eru too young?"

Chad threw a surprised look over his shoulder. "You mean you don't learn early?"

"How early is early?"

"Ummm... let's see... When I was Eru's age I could summon stuff — y'know, accio this, accio that? I was learning some chants to summon some of the basic land spirits — tell you what, those are great when you get lost, aren't they?" Luckily he didn't wait for a reply: Harry had no idea what he meant by 'chants.' "And I could make some of the medicines for the sheep — although Uncle Wiri won't use them, 'cos I made a batch that turned the flock purple — and I was resisting Imperio, and ..."

"What?"

"It was an accident... well, maybe I just wanted to see how Uncle Wiri would react if I turned the sheep ..."

"No, not the sheep, the Imperious!"

"Can't you shake it off?"

"Yes, but who taught you to?"

"Uncle Sev, of course. Mum said he should do it. She said that if she ever started using Imperio on us kids she'd never stop when she wanted the dishes done."

Harry was shocked, furious and disgusted, all at once. How dare Snape use one of the Unforgivables, and on a child? He was also a little jealous. Chad had been learning magic years longer than Harry. "But Imperio's illegal."

"Really? Maybe where you come from. We don't tend to classify spells the same way down here. Our magic's a bit different, and you're damned well expected to cope with the crap it can send you. What are the other illegal spells?"

"The Cruciatis and Avada Kedavra."

"Can't do Cruciatis. I know about it, but I don't want to learn it. No point, really, as I'm not a sick son-of-a-bitch; and I can't see Sev trying it out on anyone just to teach them to get used to it. Not Uncle Sev, especially after... ah, what was the other one... I forgot."

Harry doubted Chad had forgotten, but respected his right to change the subject. "Avada Kedavra? The killing curse."

"Oh, really? Uncle Wiri can do that one. Green light. I saw him once after a sheep had been ripped up by dogs. Nasty stuff."

"Yeah. It's such a simple-looking curse..."

"No, I mean the sheep. It was in agony. Wiri's the best when it comes to vet magic, but this one was beyond him. It was dying anyway, so Wiri just... put it out of its misery. Avada Kedavra's nifty like that. Hey, what's wrong?" Chad gasped, finding it hard to breathe.

Harry loosened the hold that was suffocating Chad, but he could hardly speak to explain. "Um... that was the curse that killed my mum."

There was a brief but heavy silence. "Oh, hell. I'm sorry. Here I am yapping on about sheep and 'nifty' curses and you've... God. Sorry, Harry. I'll just shut up now."

"No. No, it's not your fault. You didn't kill them, it's just that..." Harry took a deep breath. "It's not considered a nice spell where I come from."

"Okay."

They rode on without talking. After a few minutes the silence became awkward; Harry was remembering things he didn't want to, and by the set of Chad's shoulders, Chad was feeling wretched. More to break the silence than from actual curiosity, Harry asked; "But you could learn Crucio if you wanted to?"

"I guess. I could ask Uncle Sev; but can you imagine the look he'd give me?"

Harry could imagine quite a few of Snape's darker expressions.

"He'd be so disappointed that I'd just ask."

Nope, that wasn't a Snape-look Harry was familiar with. "Yes, I suppose so. Do you know Imperio?"

"It took me a while. Eru can do it — he's a really quick learner. We practise on each other. Such a laugh. You put the Imperious on your brother and make him do stuff and he's got to guess what or who you're imagining. Mum and Uncle Wiri love it when we imitate celebrities."

Harry was trying not to go into culture shock. "But you can fight it?"

"Sure! The trick to the game is to know that you're under the spell and go along with it until you can't be bothered anymore."

"So it's just a game?"

"Hey, don't sound so scandalised. It comes in handy."

Harry found that hard to believe, and said as much.

"Okay," said Chad, "Here's an example. Last winter Eru was riding Solly back from school alone because I'd come down with bronchitis, and some guy in a car stopped and asked him if he'd like a ride. Eru's not dumb, and he said no, piss off. The guy turns out to be a wizard, and puts Imperio on Eru to get him into the car. Eru had just learned to cast off the impulsion, luckily. So he acts like he's stunned. When the guy gets out of his car Eru spins Solly around and Solly kicks him back into the car. Guy gets knocked out and Eru boots it for home. He was too freaked out to say anything for days, but when he did, hoo boy. Mum hit the roof. She sent out Sev and Wiri to track the bastard down. Don't know what they did to him, but it must have been something pretty good, because Mum calmed down again. We were really proud of Eru, aye."

"I bet," Harry said softly. After a while spent in heavy thought, he added, "It's weird hearing about anything good to do with the Unforgivables, though. We're not allowed to learn them."

"No? Uncle Sev could cast all three before he went to Hogwarts. I don't think he was interested in the Cruciatis, but his dad made him learn."

Harry had never thought of Snape having a father. It was easier thinking of him emerging fully-formed from a bottomless pit. "That's a bit weird, isn't it?"

"His dad was a certifiable loony. That's what Wiri reckons. Sev never talks about his parents. Mum neither — I don't think she liked Old Snape much. Maman said that the most time Sev spent with him was at his funeral. Uncle Sev spent most of his time running around in the hills. Didn't you know that?"

"I... don't know much about his background, only that he came to Hogwarts knowing more about the Dark Arts than any other student and most of the teachers."

"Then I probably shouldn't be talking about him so much. He's pretty private."

"No kidding. But if he was running around wild, what did he eat? Raw sheep?"

"Maybe he did. Nah, look, that was a joke, Harry. He'd come to our house. Sometimes. Sometimes he wouldn't be seen for days. One winter Maman got really worried about him, and when she asked where he'd been staying when the snow fell, he said that he went and stayed with Grandmother."

"Grandmother Taniwha?"

"Yup. That's where we're going now. The only way to find the pool is to go there with either Uncle Sev or Solomon. They're the only ones that can find the place."

"How come?"

"I'm not sure. I think it has something to do with Sev's mum. His dad was English, of course; that's why he got packed off to your school after the police brought him back from the West Coast one year. His dad must of got sick of people noticing him being a crap father and decided to get Sev out of his hair the best legal way he knew how, so sent him off to boarding school. But Sylvia was a local, even if her ancestors were mainly English. She met Old Snape when she went to Hogwarts. Got married, came back here, had a baby, and she died. Old Snape was really upset. He sold her pony, but Sev tracked him down when he got older and got him back."

"Solomon?" Harry asked, grabbing at a sentence before he could get completely lost in Chad's topsy-turvy narrative.

"Yeah," Chad said, slapping the pony affectionately on the wither. "Solly used to belong to Sylvia, Sev's mum."

"He must be bloody ancient. How long do horses live?"

"Normally only to thirty if they're lucky, but this one... hold on..."

The pony in question slithered down a muddy bank. The ferns were growing to the height of its chest, and Harry and Chad lifted their feet away from the clinging snow. Tree branches swept at their hair and they ducked. Harry was a bit slow. "Ergh. I got snow down my neck."

"Don't worry, we'll be there soon. It always seems to be a different way, though, so... Ah-ha!"

They had arrived.

Across from them was the steep slope Snape had brought Harry down last night. Harry was glad the pony hadn't chosen that way down — they would have broken their necks. In the middle of the clearing, looking just as mysterious in daylight as at night, was Grandmother's Pool.

Harry slid off Solomon. Ouch. Riding a broom wasn't good preparation for riding a horse. Chad landed next to him. "Hey," Harry exclaimed, "what're you doing?"

Chad was taking the bridle off the pony. "What does it look like?"

"It looks like you're letting the pony go and we don't know how to find our way back from here!"

"Relax," Chad chuckled. "He's not leaving us. I'm just letting him have some kai — uh, that means food."

Indeed, the pony began scraping away the snow with a shaggy forefoot, uncovering the dry grass underneath.

"Come on, I've got to give Grandmother a present."

Any snow that had fallen here was a thin covering that disappeared as they reached the pool. The two boys knelt on the rock. "Here we go," said Chad. He took a folded piece of white paper out of his jacket pocket and pulled at it a little. It curled and shook itself into shape.

"It's a swan!"

"You like it?" Chad was ginning.

"It's cool! Did you make it?"

"Yup. I promised Grandmother that if it snowed just enough to get me out of school I'd bring Solly up to visit her." He leaned forward and gently placed the swan on the black water. "There we go. I hope you like it, Grandmother."

Small eddies drew the paper swan into the middle of the pool, where it swam around as if alive.

Harry dipped his finger into the water. "Mm, warm. Can we swim here?"

Chad looked shocked. "You've got to be joking!"

"No. Why not?"

"Um. It's... it's not something we do."

"Why not?"

"Look, it's just not a good thing to do, okay?"

"But the horse is drinking from it." Harry pointed to where Solly's velvety nose was ruffling the waters.

"He's Solomon. He's allowed."

"What about Snape?"

Chad tucked his knees up to his chest and scowled at Harry. "I think I've said too much about him. And if you're calling him 'Snape' then I'm not sure how friendly you are to him."

"We're not best friends."

"Then why are you here?"

"Not by choice. Because I have to be. Because it's safer here than... um.... Harry felt like he'd suddenly become Hagrid: I prob'ly shouldn't'a said that.

"If he brought you here then he must really want you to be kept safe," said Chad. "You must have some powerful enemies."

"Um," Harry said miserably. He felt like he was losing his one friend in this weird country.

"Not that crazy old bastard... what's his name... Mouldy Wart?"

"Muh — Mouldy...?"

"Yeah. Some mad bugger who wants to take over the world."

Harry burst out laughing. "Mouldy Wart! I love it! It's so, so... it's so him."

Chad chuckled, and then everything was alright again.

Harry trailed his fingers in the inky water and watched his reflection. "This water is so dark. Last night I thought... well, I thought that it was just dark because it was night. But it's more than that."

"Uh-huh. It's always like this." Chad scooped some water up in his hands where it glimmered clear as crystal and let it trickle back through his fingers. "And it's always the same temperature. Uncle Sev says it's really hot towards the middle, so hot you feel like you're being cooked. But if you dive down it suddenly turns cold."

"He's swum here?"

"When he was a kid."

"So if it's okay for him to swim in the pool, why not us?"

Chad grinned slyly. "Say out loud: 'I want to go swimming here'."

"Well, I do. I want to go swimming here."

The waters rippled. There was the sense of an inhuman displeasure sweeping out of the mist. Despite himself, Harry couldn't help cowering down on the rock. Next to him, Chad was doing the same.

"Sorry, Grandmother," Chad called out quickly. "I was trying to teach Harry about you. We meant no disrespect!"

The mist swirled. There was a feeling like something had growled, and all the hairs stood up on the back of Harry's neck, then the pool stilled.

Chad mimed wiping sweat off his forehead and grinned. But his face was pale under his freckles and the grin was a bit shaky. Harry felt just the same.

"So why do you call it Grandmother Taniwha?" Harry asked as they rode away from the pool. The two boys had spent most of the early afternoon trailing sticks in the water and talking about soccer, which Chad loved, and Quidditch, which Harry loved. Harry had had to explain about how to ride a broom, Chad never having ridden one. After the earlier scare from the mist Harry had been pleased to talk about sports. But now, with the sun shining down and sparkling from the ice crystals in the trees, it was easier to talk about strange creatures and mysterious pools. "What does 'taniwha' mean, anyway?"

"A taniwha is a water monster. Usually. Sometimes they can live in the air or the rocks or even in a volcano. There are lots of them in this country."

"Sna- Pro- ah, Severus—" now that felt really wrong, calling Snape by his first name "—he said that it was an elemental."

"Yes. Elementals, fairies, monsters— all boils down to the same sort of stuff. Non-human intelligences or beings with emotions that predate human colonisation."

"Wow. That sounded technical."

Chad grinned back at Harry. "I've been reading books. Me speak good England."

Harry laughed. "Me reckon."

"Now you're getting the hang of it. Anyway, a taniwha is a particular kind of elemental. You get good ones and bad ones, but mostly you get ones that don't really give a stuff about us so long as we leave them alone. Then you get the curious ones."

"Like Grandmother Taniwha?"

"That's right. We call her Grandmother because there's a legend about how she decided to become human once. She turned into a beautiful woman — of course, I mean you never get stories about a good person who looked like a dog's bum, do you? — and went for a walk. She walked over the hills and through the valleys until she got hungry. Then she sat down and lit a fire and cooked some pigeons to eat. A man saw the fire and went to see who it was. He tried to talk to her. I guess if you saw some gorgeous naked chick who could cook you'd stop and say hi too. Anyway. She didn't know any human words, so he spent the night teaching her to speak. Not all they were doing, though, 'cos by the next morning she was pregnant." Chad snickered. "Luckily the bloke was really keen on her, even if she was a bit weird, and they got married. They lived together happily to the end of his days. When he died, she went back to her pool and turned back into a taniwha. Legend has it that she still looks after the people she chooses to, like my family."

"And Sev."

"Of course. His mum's people lived in this area for generations. Kind of shy about their wizardry, though. Tended to keep themselves to themselves. Sev's the last of that line, which is a shame, as he's pretty powerful. My family's been around for years — French and Maori blood, as well as Scottish. More French than Scottish, I guess, or Mum'd have been sent letters from Hogwarts instead of Beauxbatons."

"The families must have been pretty close if you call Snape — uh, Severus, your uncle."

"No, that's because him and Mum are sort of like brother and sister. Mum's only a few hours older. After Sev's own mum died, my granny was his nurse. Mum calls Severus her milk brother and Wiri her stupid brother. Uncle Sev lived with my family until he was about three, and then his dad took him away. Granny was really upset. Mum still remembers her crying."

"That was a bit mean of Old Snape."

"Sour old bastard by all accounts. Glad Uncle Sev takes after his mum. She was a sweetie, Maman says."

Harry wisely changed the subject before his tongue could get him into trouble. "Who's Maman?"

"My mother's mother's mother."

"Wow! You have a great-grandmother? That's so cool!"

"Don't you? Wizarding families usually live for yonks."

"My family's all dead."

Harry felt Chad tense up again. "Geez... me and my big mouth... again. Sorry Harry. Um... if it's any help, my family's always keen on having new honorary members...?"

Harry blinked away tears. Chad reminded him so much of Ron. "Thanks. I've already kind of got one, but I'm always open to more offers."

"Cool. Tell me about your honorary family."

Chad was a good listener. The rest of the ride was spent with Harry talking about the Weasleys and Hermione.

Chapter Three: Little Impulse

"Uncle Sev! Uncle Sev! We're back!" Chad pushed Harry in through the door of the cottage and bounded in after him.

"I would never have guessed." Snape was sitting in a chair next to the stove with an open book in his lap, feet in socks up on a coffee table. The chair was ragged up one side, suggesting that Snape had a pet cat that used the chair for a scratching post. Given the way the stuffing had been pulled out in places, Harry wouldn't have been surprised to find out that Snape had a pet leopard.

Chad grinned. "Solly took us over to Grandmother's Pool. Harry said he was going to have a swim, and Grandmother got annoyed..." Chad trailed off.

Snape's expression was a familiar one to Harry: barely restrained fury. "Did I or did I not give you a talk about respect for elementals?" he said in his silkiest voice, the one that meant Harry was about to send Gryffindor into minus points.

"Uh, it was my fault," said Chad, shuffling his feet. "I was trying to explain about how it's a bad idea to go swimming there and I told Harry to—" He stopped talking and looked down, his cheeks going red. "Sorry," he muttered. "It was a stupid thing."

"Then why did you do it?"

Harry didn't envy Chad the piercing glare the other boy was getting from Snape.

"I wanted him to know that Grandmother was real, I guess."

"And do you, Mister Potter?"

"There's certainly something there. I felt it." Harry tried to deflect some of Snape's anger from his friend. "But as soon as Chad apologised it calmed down."

Snape's eyes pinned the two of them to the spot for several long seconds. "I suppose—" he began grudgingly "—that it was an effective lesson. And you, Mister Potter, you will not be doing anything so foolish again during your stay, will you?" It was a statement, not a question.

"No sir."

"I am disappointed in you, Chad. I had thought you would know better than to provoke a taniwha, especially when someone ignorant of their ways and purposes is in your care."

Chad was almost in tears. "I'm sorry," he whispered. "I won't do it again, I promise."

"I should hope you wouldn't. Now, if you two are quite finished with playing around in the snow, there is some work to be done. Chad, we could use your help. Have you put a blanket on Solomon?"

"I'll do it now." Chad shot out the door like a cork from a bottle.

"Mister Potter, it may be wise to put on your school robes. This could get messy. And aware as I am of your skills, I amend that prediction to will get messy."

Harry groaned inwardly. This was going to involve potions, he just knew it. He climbed into the attic and got changed into his robes.

"Hey!"

His scarf was disappearing out the window. He made a grab for it. Something pulled at it. "Give it back!" He yanked and fell backwards as the scarf was suddenly freed. There was a scrabbling on the roof.

"What's going on up there?" Snape shouted.

"Something tried to take my scarf!" Harry poked his head out the window and got hit with a face-full of snow.

"Argh!"

"Do you require help dressing yourself, Mister Potter?"

Harry shook the snow out of his eyes. "Something was stealing my scarf! Then it threw snow at me!"

"Threw?— Chad!"

Muttered curses came from Snape's direction. Harry heard the door open and Snape yelling: "Chad! What are you playing at?"

Whatever Chad's reply was, it came from the other side of the house to Harry's window. There were more mutterings from Snape, then, "Potter, stop wasting time, close the window, and get down here!"

Slamming the window harder than necessary, Harry obeyed.

It was almost like Potions class again. The one important difference, to Harry's mind, was that Snape couldn't take points off Gryffindor. He wasn't his usual snarky self, either, although his sarcasm hadn't completely abated.

"Chad, did I say boil those comfrey roots?"

"Sorry." Chad turned down the Bunsen burner.

Another important difference was that there was no magic involved. The only thing that came close had been the entrance to the laboratory. Snape had tapped on a tile in the kitchen floor in a particular way, and blue light had shimmered up and into a door. When they walked through it, Harry had found himself in a new room that couldn't possibly have fitted into Snape's cottage using known laws of physics.

They were making medicine for sheep. Chad seemed to be enjoying himself, not taking Snape's comments as anything other than constructive criticism. Harry was astonished, but not so astonished that he forgot to pay attention. Maybe Snape liked Chad (as much as he was capable of affection, that was), but he sure as Dumbledore had a beard didn't like Harry. It was a fairly easy potion, so much so that Harry wondered why Snape hadn't made it himself. The only tricky bit was the fine paring of the skin from the pennyroyal roots. That required nimble fingers as the presence of any vascular tissue would ruin the medicine. Snape's fingers were certainly clever — Harry had seen them at work often enough to have a grudging respect for the Potions master working his craft. Today Snape seemed reluctant to even touch a knife and kept his hands tucked inside his robes.

Before it cooled they had to bottle it and seal the lids with wax, carefully melting the sealing wax with the Bunsen. They filled six bottles, and Snape looked pleased. "That should take care of any epidemics Wirimu decides to have this winter."

"He said he's trying to cut down on epidemics this year," Chad said with a grin.

Snape smirked. "After last year I certainly hope so. Did he have much trouble with facial eczema?"

"That's a sheep thing," Chad said to Harry. Harry guessed he must have shown his revulsion. "Uncle Wiri doesn't get any kind of eczema."

"No," Snape said, "but we live in hope."

Chad laughed. "You're so mean."

Harry nearly choked on his tongue.

"Well," Snape replied calmly, "I do have to keep my skills honed, and Wiri may not be much but he makes an adequate whetstone."

Harry was looking forward to meeting Chad's family.

An hour later, Harry's hopes were fulfilled. He was sitting in a cosy room with a blazing fire nearby. The logs on the fire were giving out a pleasant resinous smell, and crackled. It was a comfortable reminder of the Gryffindor dormitory. Eru was slowly overcoming his shyness and Chad had to keep the young boy from demonstrating his magic skills. "Uncle Sev says us kids have a No Magic ban on us this evening," Chad hissed.

Eru looked downcast. "Aw-ww... why not?"

"Maybe another time," Harry said to keep the peace. Why not, indeed? And why was it just Chad and Eru who couldn't use magic here? Could Voldemort trace Harry through someone nearby using magic? That was a new and disquieting thought. Harry decided to ask about that later.

Snape had disappeared into the kitchen with Rona, Chad and Eru's mother. From the plaid-blanket covered couch by the door, Harry could hear one of the strangest conversations he'd ever heard in his life.

"No, 'dunderheads' is my stock insult. Yours is 'bottom-feeding mouth breathers.'"

"I need some variety."

"Well, tough. 'Dunderheads' is out of character for you. Admittedly 'mouth-breathers' would neatly encompass the majority of my students, but it wouldn't be credible as part of my lexicon."

"Anyone who uses 'lexicon' in a sentence wouldn't suit using 'mouth-breathers.' Besides, that's too mean to use on children— Oh, Sev, don't tell me that's giving you ideas! Stick with 'dunderheads.' It's served you well, and I can't really use it on advertising executives. Not modern enough. Plus they probably wouldn't understand it, or would think it's a reference to their hair-cuts. At least your students don't require you to speak with the latest buzz-words."

"I believe that it would give the student body a collective apoplexy should I start a class by 'getting down with my homies from the hood.'"

Chad nudged Harry. "Don't worry about them. Every year, it's the same. They rehearse their insults, try out new ones, and divvy up the best of the new between them. Sev takes the more traditional-sounding ones and Mum takes the ones better suited for a business table."

"Oh."

"Chad! Eru! Set the table."

"Coming, Maman!"

"Can I help?" Harry asked.

"Bless you, lambikins, you're a guest!" Maman was elderly, as Harry had expected, with a face creased, browned and weathered by High Country weather and smiles. Unlike the older witches Harry had met, she seemed to prefer wool trousers in dark charcoal with a cream silk shirt. There was a small gold locket around her neck, heightening the image of a standard grandmother. She was arranging jonquils in a vase. Their perfume filled the room. "But if you want to, you can put out the knives and forks. Chad, show him where they are."

The good table settings were in a massive oak sideboard, tall and dark and imposing, that was probably even older than Maman. The silverware was real silver ("Yeah, and I have to polish it," grumbled Chad) and the porcelain was Wedgwood. All of it old, all of it serviceable, and all of it in perfect condition. "I'm scared I'll break something," Harry whispered to Chad.

Chad snorted. "The number of times I've smashed this plate —" he waved one around for emphasis "— and Wiri or Sev have fixed it before Maman could notice, you can count on the fingers of the hands of everyone in your school. Sev said we couldn't use magic— I dunno about Uncle Wiri—"

That was a relief. Snape probably wouldn't care if Harry got in Maman's bad books, but Wirimu was as easy-going as Chad and, despite Rona calling him her "stupid brother", didn't seem at all stupid. Harry decided that if something happened, he would ask Wirimu.

There was a crash from the kitchen. "God-dammit, Wiri, will you go and wash up in the laundry where you're supposed to?" Rona.

"The water's all cold in there." Wiri

"Stop being such a wuss." Snape. "You can shield your magic and warm some water. Are you or are you not a wizard?"

"You don't seem to think I am."

A snort from Snape. "So prove me wrong."

"Children! Stop fighting!" Maman, from where she sat by the fire cutting up flower stems to the length of her liking. "Don't make me come in there, or there'll be tears before bedtime!"

"Sorry Maman!" chorused the three in the kitchen.

"Table's ready. Where's my dinner?" Now Maman sounded like a querulous old woman, an act Harry didn't believe for a moment.

"Coming, Maman!" Rona called out. She muttered something else and Snape snickered.

"I heard that," the old woman said sternly, winking at Chad, Eru and Harry as she put the vase on the sideboard. "No respect amongst the younger generation."

"Tell me about it," grumbled Snape but, to Harry and Chad's relief, he didn't follow that comment up with the story of the boys' visit to Grandmother's Pool.

Because Harry managed to snag the chair furthest from Snape, he had a wonderful dinner. Over the roast lamb, sweet potatoes and minted peas, Wiri told them the gossip from Harridale Station. He had just spent the past week up there helping gather in and treat strays that had been missed in the autumn muster, and the meat on the table was from one that had been caught in a snowdrift and been deemed better to eat than nurse back to health. But because he told his stories about the various people up at the station in a way that turned gossip into proper narrative, Harry didn't feel excluded.

However Rona's gossip about people she knew in the cities of Christchurch and Wellington was slyly malicious in a way that reminded Harry of Snape in a quixotic mood, and most of it went over Eru's head. But Harry and Chad caught most of Rona's innuendo, and managed to laugh at most of the right places. When Rona talked about catching one of her staff standing on the middle of the boardroom table singing "You Are So Beautiful," Chad nearly choked with laughter when some roast potato went down the wrong way. Snape had to slap the boy on the back.

"You're looking much better, Severus," Maman said as the dessert was served. "The rest has done you good."

"Thank you."

"Will you be staying into spring?" Wiri asked. "It's been ages since you've spent enough time home to catch some sun, and I could use some help through the lambing season."

"I'm not sure..." Snape busied himself with dessert, obviously uncomfortable with the line of questioning.

Rona asked Harry to pass the fruit salad. "I was talking to Maureen today. She mentioned you had a nephew or cousin or something staying with you. What do you want us to tell people?"

"Tell them that it's none of their damned business," Snape replied silkily.

"Language, Sevvie..."

Snape sighed. "Sorry, Maman. But I've already told them that Harry's my cousin's son. They're just fishing for information."

"Because they care about you," countered Rona.

Snape glowered at his bowl.

"Well," Wiri said before the silence could get uncomfortable, "seeing as how Grandmother Taniwha has accepted Harry, it doesn't matter if he's kin or not. You're welcome here any time, lad," he added kindly to Harry.

"Thank you. I, I really appreciate it."

"Great. So come down some time and I'll teach you some real magic, not that rubbish Sev's been teaching you."

"I seem to recall that it was my 'rubbish' that re-grew your hair after your 'real magic' turned you bald and green."

Wiri sighed. "You know too many stories about me, Sev."

Rona grinned, her dark eyes gleaming. "And he'll use them, too, if you annoy him too much."

Snape nodded.

Wiri groaned.

"Really'" exclaimed Eru. "Can you tell us some, Uncle Sev? Please?"

"If you're good."

Wiri groaned again. "Not the one with Penny McKinley, Sev. For the love of God. They're too young for that one."

"Aww..."

Snape leaned over to Eru. "I'll tell you that one when you turn sixteen. Tonight I'll tell you the one about the time Wiri tried to juggle eels."

Harry woke up early the next morning. Saturday. Chad had promised to teach him snowboarding today. But it was still way too early to get up. And cold. Harry snuggled back down under the duvet. What had woken him?

A scratching on the window.

Bracing himself against the cold, Harry opened the window.

A flurry of white flew into the room.

"Hedwig!" It was a shame owls couldn't be cuddled, thought Harry. He wanted no more than to wrap his arms around the beautiful Snowy, but knew she wouldn't like it. He let her perch on his arm and stroked her feathers instead. "It's so good to see you. You must have come a terribly long way — all the way to the other side of the world."

She nibbled tiredly on his finger. Something brushed Harry's bare wrist. A letter. It wasn't addressed, but if it was tied to Hedwig there was no-one else it could be meant for than Harry. Maybe it was from Sirius! He opened it, the seal snapping and letting out a few sparks as it broke.

The letter read:

To: Professor Severus Snape, (Harry's face fell) C/- Mister Harry Potter (that put an evil grin back on Harry's face).

Dear Severus (bleah, thought Harry — obviously the letter hadn't been written by Sirius Black), I regret to inform you that your most recent batch of Wolfsbane potion has been destroyed by Peeves the poltergeist. As Remus Lupin's skills are a vital part of the Order of the Phoenix, his continued involvement is vital. Unless he is rendered harmless by the potion he will not be able to stay at Hogwarts due to the presence here of so many children over these holidays. Please send replacement by return owl as soon as possible.

The letter was unsigned, but Harry recognised Dumbledore's writing. Oh no! Poor Remus, he thought. "Stay here, Hedwig, I'll get you some food."

The owl chirruped, turning her head half a circle to watch him as he shot down the ladder.

At the door to Snape's bedroom, Harry hesitated before knocking. Snape was probably still asleep, but... How long did it take to make the potion, anyway' Snape might get mad if he was woken, but then again, maybe he would get mad if he wasn't told about this.

Actually, Harry reasoned, Snape would get mad regardless. And if Harry woke him up then it meant that he, Harry, wouldn't be the one worrying about Remus any more. Something moved out of the corner of his eye. Had he really seen it? It had been something small. Harry bent and peered under the table, but the curtains were still drawn and it was hard to see anything. Rat? He shivered, more in anger than in fear, at the thought of Wormtail being inside the cottage. He knocked on the wooden door.

And waited.

He knocked again, louder and longer. Given how easily Snape picked up the slightest whisper in the classroom, he shouldn't be so hard to wake up.

Harry knocked again. Still no answer. He was starting to grow worried. If something went wrong with Snape, what was he meant to do?

Summoning up all his Gryffindor bravery, Harry opened the door.

It was dark inside — no surprise; the curtains were drawn and it wasn't really sunrise yet anyway. Snape was asleep, not dead like Harry had at first feared. He seemed to be dreaming, his head moving slightly. Harry could hear him breathing, short and fast like he was running.

"No..."

A nightmare.

"Professor? Wake up. You're dreaming. Professor!" Snape seemed stuck in his dream. Harry went over and put his hand on his teacher's shoulder, shaking the man lightly. "Professor Snape! Wake up!"

In a flurry of movement, Harry was on the floor with Snape's hand gripping his throat.

"P- P- Professor..!" Harry couldn't believe how strong Snape was. He could hardly breathe. Snape's eyes were as wide and bottomless as the monster's pool, looking straight through Harry and into horrors Harry couldn't guess at. "Professor!" Harry struggled, pulling at Snape's wrist. He struck out against the man's forearm, and a sharp pain stabbed from his scar. The pain must have resonated in Snape, because his black eyes suddenly snapped back to reality, seemingly bewildered to find Harry lying on the floor and being choked to death by himself.

He let go of Harry.

"Mister Potter," he hissed, pale and sweating, a vein throbbing in his temple. "You will have a good explanation for this, this... intrusion."

Harry sat up, rubbing his throat, glaring back at Snape. "And you will have a good explanation for trying to kill me?" He regretted his outburst immediately at the cold expression that settled over Snape's features, making him seem uglier than ever. He sighed. "I just got this letter. Hedwig woke me up with it."

Snape looked him over, and Harry was aware of how his hair must be standing up in all directions, and how he was sitting on a sheepskin rug in a teacher's bedroom in pyjamas and dressing gown, and with bare feet. Hardly proper. He handed Snape the letter, almost defiantly. "It's from Dumbledore."

Snape scanned it quickly. "It's not signed by Dumbledore."

Thinking back to the note that had accompanied his invisibility cloak, Harry decided not to comment about how Dumbledore didn't seem to sign many letters. He rubbed at his scar.

"Is your scar bothering you?"

"Not at the moment."

"Then at which particular moment did it bother you?"

Snape's patience, probably already on a short fuse, wasn't something Harry wanted to test further at this precise time. "When I hit your arm."

Snape twitched. "Yes," he said tonelessly, rubbing his left forearm. "You must have woken me properly when you hit the Dark Mark."

Harry shivered. "I'm sorry. I tried to wake you but... um."

"Quite." Snape closed his eyes and wiped at his forehead tiredly. "I... apologise for my outburst. Now go and put the kettle on."

Harry shot out into the kitchen. Snape had apologised.

The world was coming to an end.

The world was coming to an end, complete with bossy parrots.

At least, Harry thought it was a parrot. The bird, a little smaller than Hedwig, was sitting on the wood basket next to the wood burner stove. It wasn't colourful like a parrot should be, although it was a dull olive green and had some red feathers under its wings which he saw when it flapped them at him. But it did have a wickedly curved beak. Harry had never before thought of parrots as being particularly threatening birds, but this one gaped its beak at him in a manner that couldn't be seen as anything other than a warning. Funny that he had never noticed just how big parrots' beaks looked before. Or how strong. Or how sharp. If this one didn't bite right through his finger, it looked capable of stripping the flesh from the bone with one swipe.

"Shoo, you stupid bird!"

"Aaaaark!"

Harry tried moving closer to the stove, but the bird hissed at him, and moved to jump off its perch.

As if the day couldn't get more complicated. How had it got inside? Had it come in through the window Harry had left open? If he didn't get the jug on, Snape wouldn't get his coffee. If Snape didn't get his coffee, the world, as far as Harry Potter was concerned, could end and good riddance to it. Even the Slytherins went in fear of a coffee shortage at Hogwarts. Rumour had it that it was traditional for that House to give Snape a year's supply of Blue Mountain Troll blend for Christmas. Dobby the house elf had told Harry Potter Sir that Dumbledore had given them strict instructions that, even in the midst of an attack by You-Know-Who, the Potions master must have his coffee. Harry privately thought Dumbledore had been joking, but this morning he didn't want to test the theory. Especially since he had once overheard McGonagall telling Hagrid that, in the event of Voldemort attacking the school, they could withhold coffee and use Snape as a grenade. Hagrid had countered that it sounded more like Muggle biological warfare, and would be against the Geneva Conversation.

Flapping a tea-towel at the feathered nuisance didn't shift it either. Harry stepped back to assess the situation.

The situation was, as far as he could see it: Harry Potter, bane of Voldemort's existence, Quidditch seeker par excellance, was in a stand-off with a parrot.

I am the human here. I can out-think a feather-duster. He managed to snag a twig from the pile of kindling and poked it at the bird, who grabbed it in the powerful beak and bit it into two, spitting out the pieces in front of Harry as if to say, "Well?"

Maybe he could throw a blanket over it. That way he could wrap it up and throw it outside before Snape got up and demanded coffee. There was a thick blue-and-white striped blanket over the couch — Ravenclaw colours should be appropriate for dealing with birds, Harry thought wildly, although why Snape had it in his cottage was up for debate. Holding the blanket in front of him like a matador's cape, Harry advanced on the bird.

It jumped off the basket and scuttled towards him. Harry yelped and jumped, throwing the blanket. The blanket missed the bird but did a spectacular job of wrapping itself around his ankles. Harry hit the ground with a thump that shook the crockery in the shelves on the walls.

When he got his breath back, he opened his eyes.

There was that bloody bird — right in front of him. It cocked its head quizzically, staring at him from out of dark eyes. It chirruped doubtfully. "Happy'" Harry gasped angrily.

"Chirrulirrul." It ground its beak and strutted around on its funny parrot-feet, claws clicking on the bare wood, and staying just out of reach. "Chirril'"

Harry sat up and unwrapped the blanket. "Whatever. I suppose you thought that was funny!"

"No. But she is worried that you've hurt yourself."

Damn. Snape was up. Harry looked over to see that the professor had managed to get dressed in the time Harry had been playing Intrepid Bird Baiter. "Well, you can tell her I'm fine."

"Stand up and she can work that out for herself."

Snape strode over to the stove and crouched down to open the door. After shooting a cautionary look at Harry, the parrot waddled over and began to tug at the cuffs of Snape's jeans. Harry grinned.

Snape picked up the bird with both hands and placed it back on the basket. "I'm not going to burn myself," he said to it. The bird muttered darkly, grinding its beak as Snape put fresh wood into the stove and poked at the embers to stir the fire back into life.

When Harry stood up the bird bobbed up and down uneasily but settled down again when he moved away from the stove. "It seems to think that it owns the stove."

"No," said Snape as he stood and dusted off his hands. "She knows that it's dangerous. She didn't want you getting burnt."

"You're kidding."

Snape gave him A Look. "I hardly 'kid'." He filled the jug with water and put it on the hottest plate. "Her name is Burd Helen. That's B-U-R-D. And she's not meant to be wandering around inside unsupervised."

"She must have come in when I left my window open after letting Hedwig in. Oh — do you have any owl food?"

Snape reached up into a cupboard and pulled out a bag of owl treats.

Owls have excellent hearing. From the attic Hedwig must have heard the rustle of the bag being opened, because she swooped gracefully down through the open trapdoor and landed on Harry's shoulder, pecking his ear when he was too slow. "Ow! Here you go."

Burd Helen flapped up to land on Snape's shoulder, ruffling her feathers at the owl. "Aark!"

Hedwig flapped her wings and hooted.

Harry and Snape grabbed their respective birds before a fight could break out. Hedwig continued to screech angrily from Harry's hold, while Helen squawked between bites at Snape's fingers. But Harry noticed that she didn't draw blood — apparently that fierce-looking beak wasn't necessarily as nasty as it appeared.

"Helen, no," Snape commanded. The parrot subsided, still shooting nasty looks at the owl. Snape smoothed the feathers on her head until she calmed. "Leave the owl alone. She's only visiting. Take your owl outside for a little while and give her some food," he added to Harry.

Standing outside, Harry watched the sun rise from out of the mists on the horizon. Somewhere over there was the sea. Somewhere, a long way away, would be Hogwarts. Not just over the horizon, but over on the other side of the world. "Ow, Hedwig." She had nipped his finger. "Too slow with the owl treats, am I?" But Hedwig was home in a way, and it was like a piece of Hogwarts was here with him now. The Snowy owl flexed her wings and flapped them, her feathers taking on a translucent platinum quality as they filtered the sunlight. Harry exhaled a long plume of steam. Some time soon he would be back on the Hogwarts Express, heading home, and he'd be back with his friends. In the meantime it was a glorious winter morning and he had the most beautiful owl in any country with him. He couldn't wait to show her off to Chad. "You'll like this place," he said to Hedwig, stroking her feathers softly. "There are owls here, Chad says, so there must be good hunting for you, and I think all the owls are smaller than you so you can boss them around." Hedwig started to preen her ruffled feathers. That was a good sign — she was calming down. Harry decided to take her back inside. The morning was beautiful, but it was also very, very cold. He could feel the snow through his boots.

"Can I come back in now?"

"Yes. I've calmed Helen down. How is your owl?"

Harry came inside, shutting the door quickly to keep the heat in. Although by the way the wood stove was roaring away, it was likely that the small room would warm up again rapidly. "I think she was a bit unsettled. She's very tired — you can see that in the way her wing-tips are drooping a little. I never knew an owl could fly so far."

"She's not an ordinary owl otherwise you wouldn't have her as a familiar. I expect it only took her a few hours to get here. Put her up in the attic — there should be perches a-plenty for her. And give her some warmed water in case she's thirsty."

"Okay. Should I leave the window open?"

"Might as well. Owls don't like being penned-up and it's meant to be a fine day today."

Harry only wished the Dursleys were so knowledgeable concerning avicare. Hedwig sat on his shoulder as he climbed up the ladder and arranged a comfortable perch for her with some newspaper underneath. "Have a good sleep, Hedwig," he whispered as she settled down over her feet. "You deserve a good rest." Hedwig meeped at him in a friendly way, yawned, and closed her huge, beautiful eyes.

Downstairs, Snape had a pot of porridge heating on the stove as well as a frying pan. The cast-iron pan was filled with sausages, tomatoes, and bacon. Harry's mouth watered as the aromas hit him.

What didn't bode so well was the sight of Severus Snape sitting at the table, letter in hand and an inscrutably dark expression on his face. His face looked flushed, but that could have been from his usual mood of barely-suppressed homicidal rage.

"Sir?"

"What is it, Potter?"

"Can you make the Wolfsbane potion here?"

Snape sneered. "It is one of the most difficult potions in existence. The ingredients are rare and difficult to obtain, let alone store. Luckily, however, I keep in mind that as I am the only credible potions maker available to Hogwarts, and that as the castle is filled with poltergeists, inept teachers, Sirius Black, students, and other such undesirables, it will undoubtedly fall upon me to save the bloody day. I have the raw materials. I certainly have the skill, normally. But—"

Harry said softly, when Snape trailed off, "But you don't look very well."

Snape pinched the bridge of his nose with a hand that trembled slightly. "I seem to be running a fever, yes."

"Will that affect the potion?"

"It will affect my skill, so of course that will affect the potion, stupid boy!"

Harry began to dish up breakfast to give Snape a moment to calm down. He took a few deep breaths himself. The morning hadn't got off to a great start. Thank Merlin — the kettle was starting to whistle. That meant coffee for the surly old— Harry did a mental edit— professor.

Without bothering with something so mundane as flight, Burd Helen climbed up the back of Snape's chair, foot over beak over foot. She reached the top of the high back and began to preen strands of Snape's hair through her beak as the man stared moodily at the piece of parchment. After a while a hand reached back and ruffled her head feathers. Helen nibbled at Snape's hand, pleased with the attention. Apparently she had achieved her aim, because she jumped off her perch.

"Hey! Get out of there, nosy!" Harry scolded. The blasted creature had flapped up into one of the cupboards. From it came rustlings and a "Grrawk!" that clearly said, "Mind your own business, child!" Harry puffed out his cheeks in exasperation. Now he was being told off by some sort of parrot. Said parrot poked her head out of the cupboard. Dangling from her beak was a bag of coffee. Harry caught it as it was dropped and stared up at the parrot, who blinked at him and tilted her head from side to side. "She knows you like coffee?"

"And now she wants to know what you want to drink."

Was Snape having him on? Harry shrugged. "Tea, please Helen." Couldn't hurt to be polite.

Helen rustled around again. Harry tried to see what she was doing, but the cupboard was too high. After a moment, Helen's looked out again, her beak empty. "Rrll?"

"She wants to know if you want Darjeeling, Earl Grey, herbal, or Ceylon tea."

"Ah... ordinary?"

"Tell her 'gumboot tea'."

Okay, Snape was certifiable. Harry decided to play along to keep him in a good mood. "Gumboot tea, please Helen."

"Rrrk."

Helen came back with a teabag held daintily in her curved beak. She tilted her head to one side. "Brrll?"

There was a decided danger of Harry bursting out laughing. That probably wouldn't make him popular with the parrot — or with Snape, who was sitting with his hand covering the lower half of his face as he watched the performance. "Um. That looks right," Harry said. "Thank you, Helen."

The bird dropped the teabag into Harry's hand and went back to rustling around in the cupboard again. Harry waited. Clunk. Something heavy was being pushed around.

"Get ready," warned Snape.

It was lucky Harry was ready: a jar was pushed through the open door. A heavy jar. Harry's Seeker skills kicked in and he caught it one-handed. It was a large jar of the darkest honey Harry had ever seen.

"Sugar next," Snape commented.

Sure enough, Harry had just put the jar onto the bench when the second jar plummeted. Helen looked out to see that everything was all right, then disappeared again. What now? Harry wondered.

With a brief flurry of wings, Burd Helen returned to her perch behind Snape. She had another teabag in her beak, but this one was reddish-coloured. "Who is that for?" But the kettle was shrilling, and he went to take it off the stove.

Then Helen was at his elbow, taking cups with her beak from the rack between the sink and the stove. Harry wondered if she would drop one, but Snape seemed unconcerned. Rather, the professor was jotting down notes onto a thick pad of paper. Helen used her beak to arrange three cups into a row with the handles all pointing carefully to the right. Then she dropped teabags into two of them. From the dishes drying on the bench, the parrot selected a coffee plunger and matching jug. She waggled her tail and looked up at Harry from her dark eyes, as if to say, "Well, that's my limit. You can take over from here."

"Um, Professor Snape?"

"Hm?" He seemed to be deep in thought.

"She's got three cups ready. I suppose she can't count?"

"She can count quite well. The herbal tea is hers — I don't allow her caffeine."

Harry made the coffee and poured boiling water into the cup with 'his' teabag. He had only poured a little bit into the cup with the dark red teabag when Helen said "Ark!"

"What?" Harry asked her.

"She only needs it filled by a quarter. She does, however, desire one small teaspoon of honey in with her tea."

By the way Helen bobbed up and down when Harry opened the jar, it was clear that she wanted more than one teaspoon. But Snape had said one, and Harry didn't want to poison his bird. "Hey! Give it back!" Harry laughed as Helen dried to drag the lid out of his hand to lick the honey inside. He gave her the spoon instead after he had mixed the honey into her tea. She licked at the remains of the honey on the handle of the spoon enthusiastically with her grey-brown tongue. Harry grinned as he pulled Helen's teabag out of the rich red tea by a tag on a string. "Is there any milk? I'll get it," he added quickly as Snape moved to get up.

"It's in the laundry. There's a cupboard closest to the outside wall."

That made sense. Harry found the milk. It was very cold, as the laundry was on the south side of the cottage, and Harry's breath steamed slightly. There was probably snow behind the wall — Harry was very glad to get back into the warm main room. The carton of milk rattled slightly as he shook it. "I think there's something in here other than milk," he said.

"Ice. Don't worry about it."

But he should have worried about it, Harry thought grimly as cleaned himself up a moment later. He'd accidentally poured the lump of ice into his cup and splashed himself with the tea.

"Brrl?"

"I'm okay," he told Helen, who was watching him with her head tilted as he fished out the ice and dumped it in the sink. She chirruped comfortingly and for one incongruous moment he was reminded of Mrs Weasley.

"Hot," said the bird. "Hot." She sounded sympathetic.

Snape had made himself his coffee — black with two sugars — and Harry added sugar to what remained of his tea and set about his breakfast. After the time he and Helen had spent making tea, it was starting to get cold. Snape seemed to have got half-way through his before forgetting about it. He seemed intent on his notes now, and Harry wondered just how ill he was. The normally sallow expression was still flushed even though the man seemed calm. Helen sidled over and began pecking at a fried egg on Snape's plate. Almost, Harry used a heating spell, then remembered just in time that not only was he not supposed to be using magic, but Snape didn't know that he had his wand. Harry touched the reassuring solidity of the wand he had in his pyjama pocket. "Is she allowed to eat that?"

Snape started, then looked around. "She can have a little." He held out his hand towards the pot of porridge steaming on the stove; "Acci—" then scowled in recollection as he stood up. It didn't look promising for the potion, Harry thought. Snape was weaving slightly as he moved around the table to give the porridge one last stir before putting it into two bowls. He put a little into a saucer as well as a piece of carrot from the vegetable bin in one of the lower cupboards.

Harry wasn't normally fond of porridge, but during winter it was a food he liked. It seemed to insulate him against the cold. He poured milk on it and sprinkled it with brown sugar.

They ate in silence, punctuated by occasional mutters from Snape and contented bill-grinding from Helen after she had finished her porridge and carrot and wiped her beak on a napkin. She yawned and settled down on the table, content to wait for the two humans to finish and then do something interesting. Harry took the opportunity to study her in closer detail.

She wasn't, as he had first thought, a drab bird. Her feathers were brown-green edged with black over most of her body. Harry stroked her primaries, the feathers towards the ends of the wings, lightly. Helen looked at him and rustled her wings, not quite moving away but suggesting that this was an option should Harry be overly familiar. The primaries were blue on the top surface. But when she had flown to and from the cupboard earlier, he had seen that the undersides of her flight feathers had black and yellow stripes. Hufflepuff colours, Harry thought with a smile he kept private. But the rest of the area beneath her wings, further towards her arm(wing?)pits was coloured a rather pretty scarlet, much brighter than the dark red feathers over her rump. Her eyes weren't black. The irises were dark brown and were rich and surprisingly intelligent in the way they looked back at him— Harry realised he was staring and dropped his eyes apologetically. Then couldn't believe that a parrot had just reminded him of his manners.

"She's not an Animagus, is she?" he blurted out.

Snape looked up, eyebrows raised. "What in Merlin's name brought that question on?"

"Um... she just seems a bit too smart."

Snape didn't smile, but his face relaxed fractionally as he reached over and ruffled the feathers on the back of Helen's head. The bird yawned and half-closed her eyes by raising her lower eyelids, looking at Snape with what Harry would have sworn on his parents' graves was genuine affection. "No. She's just a bird. A very smart bird."

"She's a parrot? I heard her say 'hot' before."

Snape did smile slightly at this. "Yes. She doesn't speak much. She saves it up for the occasions she really needs it. As I said, a very smart bird."

Harry took that as a hint to stop bothering Snape. But he was curious.

"What sort of a bird is she? I've never seen one like her before."

"She's a kea. Possibly the smartest non-magical animal outside the ape family. Keas are native to this country and live in the mountains. She comes down here to the lowlands in winter where the food is better."

"Eggs, porridge?"

"Bacon rind, toast, herb tea with lots of honey... they're omnivorous and they'll try anything at least once." His face became stern but indulgent; a novelty for Harry to see in this particular teacher. "Which is why I take pains to make sure she doesn't get into my coffee."

Yes, Harry could imagine the curious bird on caffeine. "Was she the one who tried to steal my scarf yesterday?"

"I expect so." Snape tickled the bird under her beak. She nibbled on his finger before twisting her neck to make sure that his fingers got the itchy bits behind her ear coverts. "Up to and including the snow-in-the-face, it sounds like her modus operandi. Her sense of humour is somewhat towards the slapstick end of the scale."

"Sounds like a pet for Fred and George."

Snape snorted derisively. "No. She's too independent to make a good pet. And she'd end up playing jokes on them that, knowing their inclination to apply their mediocre knowledge of Potions in a less than intelligent fashion, would result in their achieving the permanent status of giant canary." He smirked. "Now that would be a way of making them appreciate the inadvisability of taking Potions lightly."

Lucky that Fred and George had graduated this year. "So how smart are keas?"

"Well, someone at a university was doing a study on one to try and find out. The bird had been trained to do a complicated series of tricks for a food reward. It was able to repeat this two weeks after being put back into the aviary."

"What else did they teach it to do?"

"Nothing. The bird escaped."

Harry laughed.

Helen looked up. She gave Snape's fingers one last nibble then jumped off the table and hopped over to the door. She flapped up, grabbed the handle of the door, and hung off it until the latch clicked open. By flapping one wing, she was able to pull it open a crack. Helen plopped down and used her beak to pull the door open just far enough for her to slip through.

There was a chortling "Kee-aa-aa-aa-aa!" and Harry heard wings flapping away.

Snape sipped his coffee. "Someone she knows. Chad or Eru, since she sounded quite happy. Not Death Eaters."

Harry jumped up and ran to the door, delighted that there would be someone else here today. Bad enough staying with Snape when he was well, but he had no idea how to take care of Snape when he was sick, especially if he had to wake him up again. Harry's mind veered away from that thought.

Chapter Four: Here to There

By shading his eyes against the rising sun, Harry made out the approaching pony. There was one — no, two people riding it. They crossed the river in a foam of white-gold spray with Helen circling over their heads. Chad and Eru were up early. Heedless that he was still in his dressing gown, Harry tugged on his boots and ran to meet them.

No, one of the figures was too tall to be one of the boys. Squinting as he they drew nearer, Harry was surprised to see Rona being doubled by Chad. The pony plodded over to Harry and stopped, heaving an almighty sigh, its bottom lip drooping. Rona slid off. "Morning Harry!" she exclaimed, ruffling his hair. "Been up long?"

"Just had breakfast. Hi Chad, you're up early."

Chad grimaced. "Tell me about it. And on a Saturday, too. Mum, I'll go and put the rug on Solly."

"Ta, sweetie." She tucked her arm into Harry's as they strolled back to the house. "Look at you — doesn't Sev let you have proper clothes?"

Harry grinned back at her. She was about the same height as he was now that he was finally starting to shoot up. "Nah. This builds character."

Rona laughed, holding up her arm to Helen, who landed on it and shuffled up to Rona's shoulder in order to start preening her long black hair. "'Builds character'? That's not something I've ever heard Sev say." She checked herself before saying something else, and her face took on more serious lines. "So how is he today? He looked bloody awful when he left last night."

Harry stared at her, open-mouthed. He hadn't noticed anything wrong with Snape until this morning. "How did you know? Uh, he's running a temperature."

"Hmm. He's been overdoing it lately," Rona mused. "He's meant to be resting up and instead he decides to go charging over the landscape. Oh, hey, it's not your fault, sweetie," she added to Harry, who must have been looking as guilty as he felt. He was the reason Snape had been busy, after all. But what had been wrong with Snape, anyway?

"He's meant to be a grown-up," Rona added, "which means that in theory he's meant to be able to take care of himself." She snorted in a manner disturbingly similar to Snape. "Not that he does, the silly bugger."

"What was wrong with him? I noticed that he wasn't around for classes much last term, but I hadn't known he was sick."

Rona ruffled his hair again. "Oh, it's just been a bit of flu. Nothing serious."

Harry didn't quite believe her. Something about her made him suspicious that she knew more than she was letting on. "It wasn't anything to do with Voldemort, was it?"

Rona nearly jerked her arm free. Helen squawked in anger that her perch wasn't giving her a smooth ride. Then Rona patted Harry's hand. "Look, it's nothing for you to worry about, hon'. He's back home now, that's all that matters."

Harry got the feeling she didn't intend to let Snape leave anytime soon, either. He sneaked a cautious look at her. The rising sun added a reddish tint to the strands that Helen had gone back to pulling at, and there was a firm set to the jaw that reminded him fiercely of Hermione on a moral crusade.

"Severus Obadiah Snape, what are you doing letting this boy run around in the middle of winter in PJ's and a dressing gown?" Rona demanded as she walked through the door and planted her hands on her hips.

"Trying to kill him off, of course," Snape replied from the table where he was still making notes, as if astonished she could have suspected him of anything less.

"Oh, that's all right then." She went and kissed him on the forehead. "You're burning up. You should be in bed. Gumboot, Helen; gumboot. Gumboot tea, Helen. Good girl," she added as the bird flew up to the cupboard. "And you," Rona said to Harry, "should be dressed. Go on. Put something warm and loose-fitting on — Chad wants to teach you how to snowboard."

Harry went up the ladder like a charging unicorn. Cool! So that was the weird stuff Chad had had slung over Solomon's shoulders. As he got dressed, careful not to disturb Hedwig's sleep, he heard Snape and Rona bickering downstairs. She seemed to be trying to order him back to bed, he was adamant that he was staying up. Harry caught the word "Wolfsbane" and felt relieved that Snape was taking Dumbledore's request seriously. He wouldn't put it past Snape to leave Remus to his misery.

When he climbed back down, Rona was crossly supervising the dishes magically washing themselves in the sink, while Snape's black eyes glittered mutinously from behind his greasy hair. Helen looked ruffled at the tension and kept preening Snape from her perch on one of his slumped shoulders. Harry could have told her not to bother — according to Sirius, Snape hadn't washed his hair for anyone so he wouldn't for a parrot, no matter how smart it was.

They were arguing in whispers.

"I'm not a complete novice, thank you Severus," Rona said in a stiff voice.

Snape leaned back, causing Helen to scold him. "It's not that. The potion is incredibly complicated. I'm one of the few people who can make it, and if—"

"Oh, so I'm too stupid to make your damn—"

"If, as I was saying, it goes wrong by the merest degree of temperature or thickness of the sliced adder's tongue, it blows up in your face. And takes off your skin down to the adipose layer, at which point it begins turning you into soap."

Harry winced, and stayed by the ladder. He didn't want Snape or Rona transferring their anger onto him. Besides, he hadn't realised just what was involved with the Wolfsbane potion.

"But you're going to try it anyway,. Aren't you."

Snape sighed and ran his long yellow fingers through his hair. Helen bit at him as he interrupted her, then climbed around to his other shoulder. Snape ignored the bird. "I don't have any choice. There are children at Hogwarts. Also there is a werewolf who is occupying a vital position in the effort against Voldemort."

"Wasn't being tortured nearly to death by that sick bastard enough for your war efforts?" Rona hissed. "And I suppose this isn't the same werewolf who tried to eat you alive when we were sixteen? The one Dumbledore kept in spite of your nearly dying? I don't know who's more dangerous to you — that bloody werewolf you're about to risk your life for, Voldemort, or that Dumbledore who keeps sending you back for more torture sessions."

They heard Harry gasp.

"Potter!" Snape snarled, his voice low and deadly, his eyes flashing black sparks of fury.

"Uh, I'm just on my way out —"

"Then leave. Now, boy."

Snape looked ready to commit murder.

Harry fled.

He nearly fell over Chad as he raced out the door. "What's up?" Chad asked as he steadied Harry.

"Later. Come on."

"Okay. You're wearing loose clothes... good. You've got to be able to move. Now, you take those, I'll take these."

Harry picked up his boots and board. "Eru's?"

"Nah. You've got my old stuff. You can muck about without worrying about the consequences," Chad said with a grin as they marched away to the hills and gullies upland of the cottage where the snow would be thickest.

"That'll be a first for today," Harry muttered.

"Wanna talk about it?"

No, Harry didn't. He was still upset by the whole day so far. They walked without speaking for several minutes until Harry unwound enough to exhale a thick plume of vapour that hung in the still, cold air. "Your mum and Snape were having a fight."

"So? Nothing new." Chad grinned encouragingly. "Everybody still alive?"

"Well, they were when I left." Harry kicked at a tussock. The snow shivered to the ground in a brief rainbow. "But Snape wants to make a really difficult potion and your mum's telling him not to."

"Ouch. Uncle Sev doesn't take kindly to people telling him how to live his life."

"No kidding. But your mum's right. He's got a fever and his hands are shaking."

"Hands have been shaking since he got back?" Chad trailed off at Harry's sharp look, aware that he'd said too much.

"Back from being tortured by Voldemort?"

Chad winced. "You know?"

"I heard a few things."

"Well, this time when he got back the shakes were worse than ever, and —"

"This time? How many times has he been 'recovering from an illness'?"

Chad hiked the carry-bag with his snowboard in it higher on his shoulder. He didn't meet Harry's eyes. "I don't know. I lost count sometime last year." Suddenly he threw the bag down angrily.

Harry blinked. Chad being angry was like being savaged by a bunny rabbit. But Chad was angry now. His cheeks were flushed and his mouth was set in a thin line as he spun to face Harry. For a moment the family resemblance to his mother in a rage was very strong. "What the hell is going on over there? Every time I've seen Sev lately it's only been because he's come back here to lick his wounds. And that's not the half of it..." He wiped his gloved hand over his eyes, which were wet. "Damn. Sorry Harry."

Harry put his bag down and sat on it, motioning for Chad to follow suit. "It's okay," he said softly. "I know what's going on is terrible. Voldemort killed my parents. He's been killing the family of other friends of mine just for being friends with me."

Chad shook his head and grimaced sympathetically. "I've heard a little bit. Just Mum talking to Uncle Wiri when they thought I wasn't listening. They don't want me to know in case I suddenly decide to get involved like Uncle Sev. As if I would..." He managed a shaky grin. But his expression turned sombre again. "Mum's protective of Sev — keeps calling him her little brother." He snorted. "Sev's what, a foot taller than her and at most half a day younger? Anyway, we always know when he's going to be coming home because Mum gets the worst nightmares. She always knows when he's in trouble, y'see, and so when I wake up 'cos she's screaming in the night I know that some heavy-duty shit is going down."

Harry bit his lip. "Rona senses this?"

Chad nodded. "That's why she came up with me. She didn't really want to leave Eru while he's sick, but he's got Maman to fuss over him. Mum knew that if she didn't get up here pronto something really bad would happen."

Harry thought back to the argument he'd heard earlier. "I think she was probably right."

"Oh well. She's just as stubborn as he is. Which means that she'll demand to help him and he'll eventually see the sense of it — she's great with potions — and they'll take care of each other."

Harry thought Chad sounded like he was trying to convince himself, but decided it would be cruel to push the issue. "You're right. Your mum seems like she can take care of herself."

Chad laughed. "You'd better believe it. When Old Snape died and Mum heard that Sev had come home for the first time in years, she finally decided to ca