Walk the Shadows

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Saturday, Aug. 31, afternoon

I can't tell what's going on out there. I'm pretty sure Ron and 'Mione got here all right, 'cause I felt the Floo . . . don't ask me how (as if a silly journal could) but I felt the . . . magic of it, like a whoosh of feeling in my gut. It's been like that since . . . since I was blind, I think, actually, feeling magic. Like I could feel signatures, and even tell one person's magical signature from another, now I can tell if magic is being used in the area, and sometimes, even what kind. It's weird.

So anyway, I felt the Floo, twice, about twenty minutes ago now. But it's been so quiet, it's like there's no one actually there.

I sure hope Snape didn't kill them.

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Previously:

'Harry is my ward. I am his guardian, and I will address him as I see fit in our home!'

The silence was broken by Miss Granger's teacup hitting the floor.

Hermione stared at Professor Snape for a long moment before she scrambled to get the teacup off the floor. She looked around for something to wipe up the mess before deciding to heck with it, drew her wand, and banished the spill with a cleaning spell. Technically it was still school hols, and she shouldn't be using magic yet, but she knew that it was almost impossible for the Ministry to detect underage magic at Hogwarts.

Covering up her tea-spilling gaff, and to take the Professor's glare off poor Ron – who still looked like a fish, honestly – Hermione cleared her throat. In her most respectful tone, she said, 'When you say 'ward', Professor, do you mean—'

Professor Snape interrupted, 'That I applied for guardianship of Harry, and it was approved by the Ministry of Child Welfare, and he will now live with me – except when school is in session – until he is of age. . . . Yes.' He pinched his nose again, obviously under some strain, and closed his eyes briefly.

Ron, meanwhile, had turned rather green, and was staring at his shoes. Just as well, really, as Ron in a temper was not terribly conducive to getting to the bottom of things.

'And Harry agreed to this, Professor?' she asked, still very polite, not wanting him to feel he was under attack. She knew this was one of the best ways to get details out of reluctant informants.

A tic pulsed along the Professor's jaw line, but at least he sat back down, and lifted his gaze to meet hers. She could see nothing even approaching deceit in his dark eyes. 'Yes. I would hardly have done it without his permission.'

Hermione nodded. 'May I ask why?'

The Professor pursed his lips, and Hermione would almost have sworn he was trying not to smirk. 'Why did Harry agree? Or why did I offer in the first place?'

Hermione did smile. 'I would be glad to hear about both, if you would not mind sharing.'

He hesitated, and Hermione didn't know if he would answer after all, but he had offered. After a fashion. Whilst waiting, she poured Ron a cup of tea, and then another for herself, if for no other reason than to give her hands something to do other than wring together. Ron nodded his thanks, seemingly thrown off by the direction the conversation had taken. She took a sip and nodded appreciatively. Though it was nothing like her Mum's tea, the blend was nothing to sneeze at either.

Finally, the Professor said, 'I can only tell you my own reasons. And I do so with the understanding that this . . . that Harry wants both of you to understand what the summer was like for him, but does not want