Whelp II The Wrath of Snape

give Harry's hand a rather tight squeeze. 'You'll need to decide who you want as Secret Keeper, and Albus said he would be available to cast the spell -- if you decided to take it on -- in the next few days, even tomorrow, should you wish it. Let him know when the best time will be. I'll not bring Harry back here until after then, of course.'

'Of course!' Mrs. Weasley said agreeably. 'I do hope we can have all this straightened out tomorrow.'

'That would be best,' said Father, and after a few more minutes of saying their good nights and Harry thanking Mrs. Weasley for taking care of him that day, they went back to Hogwarts.

Harry had never been so glad to see his own bed. Before he got in, though, he quickly dressed in night clothes and brushed his teeth, and fed Treacle Tart a little nibble from the biscuits he had in the back of his bottom drawer in the dresser. She purred and leant against him, begging for her chin to be scritched, and he obliged gladly, loving the soft feel of her fur on his fingers. It had been a long, long day, and he was just happy to be back home.

'Are you ready for bed?' Father called from the hallway.

Harry shoved the drawer closed before Father saw his secret stash of food. 'Yes, Father!'

'Good.' Father came in the room, carrying a book. 'Hop in then, and we'll have a story, which I'm sure you'll miss half of when you fall asleep whilst I read.'

'I won't!' Harry promised, but Father just lifted an eyebrow that said he didn't believe it. Harry thought maybe this time he was right; he was just so tired. 'What story?'

'The Pauper King,' Father answered, as Harry clambered into bed and pulled up his bedclothes. Treacle jumped right up after him and started turning circles near his left shoulder.

'I like that one,' Harry said.

'I know.' Father sat down beside Harry, resting his back against the headboard and started to read while Harry nestled in beside him. Treacle tried once to sprawl over the book, and Father pushed her away, so she started licking her paw instead, giving Father a cold, disdainful look.

Father had just turned the first page when Harry said, 'Father? Do you really think he's going to try and kill me?'

Hand stilling on the page, Father closed his eyes briefly and sighed. 'It's possible, son. That's why we're going to do everything we can to protect you. I won't let him hurt you.'

'But why?' Harry asked. The question had been bothering him since he first heard about Sirius Black. 'Why did he turn on my parents, Father? Why did he want us all dead?'

With another, smaller sigh, Father sat up a little straighter and moved so he and Harry could see each other's faces. Father's face was tense looking, and kind of . . . distressed. Like when he had heard about Aunt Petunia burning Harry's hand. 'Sirius Black was a good friend of James Potter's. They were friends all through Hogwarts. But Black was never a nice man; never a good man, but an arrogant one who assumed he was better than others because he was richer, more powerful, and always picked on those weaker than he.'

Father's mouth got thinner and thinner, until his lips were almost gone, except for that one lip that rose in a near snarl. 'He did horrible things, even in school; I never trusted him, and I don't know if your mother ever did. . . . I would doubt it, really. Lily was very clever and kind . . .' Father stopped suddenly. He had been talking very fast, furiously, as if the subject of Sirius Black pained him and he wanted to get it over with as soon as possible.

Black sounded a bit like Dudley, in fact, and Harry knew from very personal experience how horrible such people could be.

Father went on, 'James and Lily were very opposed to the Dark Lord, and I can only assume the Dark Lord offered Black something that he prized more than his friends in order to get their location. Maybe more power, or a way back into his family -- he had been disowned, last I heard. Who knows. The point is, he was in a position to destroy your family, and he took it.'

'I hate him,' Harry said hoarsely. He had never hated anyone more.

Father snaked an arm around behind his back and hugged him close. 'You don't even know him.'

'But he tried to get me killed, and anyway, he sounds mean, just like Dudders, picking on the littler kids. He was mean to you, wasn't he, Father? In school.'

'He was, Harry.' Father let out a harsh gust of breath. 'If it were only that, I wouldn't be so absolute in keeping him away from you, but . . . I cannot forgive what he did to your mother.'

Harry frowned. 'Why would you ever let him come near me?'

'I would not want to, but he might have had legal . . .' Father frowned, then gave a small, cold smile. It almost gave Harry chills to see it. 'He wouldn't, in fact,' Father said, probably to himself, as he spoke the words so softly, 'since James had no right to make him godfather at all . . .'

'Godfather? What?' Harry asked, just as the alarm sounded from the sitting room that meant they had a caller.

Father waved his wand to check the time, and frowned as he rose from Harry's bed. 'I'll be right back,' he said, but Harry slipped out of bed and followed him down the hall to the fireplace, where Professor Dumbledore's head bobbed alone, ringed in green fire.

'What is it, Albus that could not wait? It's nearly 11!'

'I'm sorry to intrude; I hope I haven't woken you--' the professor started.

Father interrupted, 'Just spit it out, already. Harry needs his sleep, as do I.'

'Very well, Severus. I hate to say it, but we were right. Sirius Black has been spotted in Hogsmeade.'

TBC . . .

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A/N: Thanks to all who read and/or review! You're my treacle tart, and my Treacle Tart purrs; my cocoa with marshmallow fluff on a cold, rainy night; my Snapey sneer of happitude (it could