Walk the Shadows

several times until his stomach settled a bit.

Then he dressed in a nice pair of trousers and a collared shirt, as well as new shoes, so he'd look decent for the Child Welfare people. The Ministry officials were going to meet them at Hogwarts, Snape said, just after lunch, but they had to go back a little earlier, so they could make sure his quarters were neat and picked up and 'prettified' for their guest.

He wondered if Snape was as nervous about the interview as he was.

Forty-five minutes later, he met Snape in the small, less formal dining room near the kitchen, where they ate breakfast. Though he hadn't realized it until yesterday, the manor had a House-elf here named Turner, a wizened, rather short – even for a House-elf – fellow with huge blue-gray eyes. Turner rarely spoke, perhaps because he'd been alone in this house for years as far as Harry could tell. Or perhaps because he just didn't like talking to humans.

Turner had set out a hearty breakfast of hot cereal, toast, rashers and soft boiled eggs, plus tea and juice. Despite this, Snape drank coffee, but Harry, glad for the fact that tea this time did not mean 'talking,' drank two cups, sweetened with extra sugar. Snape raised an eyebrow over his excess, but didn't tell him to stop.

Afterwards, they used the Floo in the Prince Manor 'drawing room' to go back to Dumbledore's Office. This time, the Headmaster was there.

Harry, having stumbled out of the Floo, to be caught and righted again by Snape, stared at his shoes, and then at the wall, to avoid the man's gaze.

Seemed like he wasn't going to get away with much of that, though, as the silence in the room was interrupted after only a minute or two by Dumbledore's quiet voice. 'It's good to see you, Harry.'

Was it really? he wondered. Or was Dumbledore just making small talk? Snape cleared his throat suddenly, and Harry realized he was being rude. He glanced at the Headmaster, still not meeting his eyes -- like Dumbledore had refused to do with him all last year, though for a different reason -- and said, 'You, too, sir.'

'I hope we'll see you in the Great Hall for meals, soon,' Dumbledore said.

Harry shrugged. 'Maybe. I . . .'

'He will when he's comfortable,' Snape said with some asperity, and Harry was glad for the assistance.

'I understand, my dear Severus.' Dumbledore paused for a long moment, and Harry chanced a look at his face, finding the Headmaster's narrowed eyes peering at him as if through a Muggle microscope. He flushed and looked away, almost hearing the censure – in kindly tones, of course – for his actions over the weekend. 'Perhaps just a private chat, then, here in my office. This evening, say?'

Snape didn't answer right away, and then, quietly, said, 'Harry?'

Swallowing heavily, Harry managed a nod. He was going to have to deal with it sooner or later. He wondered if almost casting an Unforgivable carried as much of a sentence as actually completing the spell. 'All right.'

'Good, good.' Dumbledore clapped his hands together as if he were truly pleased, and in the next few minutes, they were ushered out of the office and were back down to the dungeons.

Harry wanted nothing more than to collapse in his bed and burrow under the covers for a year or two, but Snape wouldn't let him, reminding him of their rules. For a brief and shining moment, Harry wanted to tell him to stuff his rules, but the moment passed, and Harry straightened his books and put away his new clothes and picked up his room a bit. The Hogwarts House-elves did most of the regular cleaning, but Snape expected Harry to keep his room neat on his own.

Soon it was lunch time, and Harry only picked at the sandwiches and raw vegetables, long enough that Snape reminded him again of the rules about eating. Harry glared at him, but ate a half sandwich and a handful of celery sticks before pushing the plate away.

'What're you going to tell them?' Harry asked, while Snape finished eating.

'The truth. I suggest you do the same.'

The truth. What a laugh. Would anyone even believe him? Anyone besides Snape?

The dishes had barely vanished via House-elf magic when there was a knock at the door to Snape's quarters. Harry's stomach did flip-flops during the eternity it took for Snape to get to the door and answer it. He rose from their little table where they'd been eating and moved to stand next to the settee where he could watch the Officials come in. He hadn't been this nervous since moments before he faced the Hungarian Horntail . . .

And then he just had to laugh. There were only a couple of people he could ascribe that much fear to, and neither of them was a Ministry Official.

He was still chuckling as Snape brought the slightly dumpy looking woman, gray haired and wrinkle faced and dressed in dark blue robes, into the sitting area and introduced him.

Snape's eyebrow was lifting double time as he waited for Harry's snickering to die down, and then said, 'Madam Phineas, this is Harry Potter. Harry, Madam Phineas from the Ministry of Child Welfare.'

'How do you do, Mr. Potter?' the woman said and held out her hand.

'Fine, thanks,' he said and shook her head, noting that for an old lady, she had a good grip. 'But call me Harry, please.'

'Very well.' She didn't offer her own first name, but Harry didn't really care.

'May I offer you tea?' Snape asked, sounding for all the world like a normal, conscientious host, instead of a dour Potions Master and ex-Death Eater.

'Thank you, Mr. Snape,' she said and sat where Snape directed her.

'It's Professor,' Harry told her.

'Sorry?'