This fiction is an AU from the Harry Potter series. It is mainly focused on Severus Snape and the OC I created.

Rating: T

Pairings: it's a guardianship :)

Note that English is not my mother tongue and mistakes would remain after peculiar re readings. Remarks would be pleasurable to read so don't be shy correcting me while commenting my chapters. I sincerely thank you for this.

All recognizable characters and places are from Rowling, please give credits to the only one who deserves it.

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Chapter one: A living nightmare

Nightmares were only pieces of our imagination that scared us to the wits in the middle of the night. That was what he thought, then he had to revise his judgment while thinking twice about the way his life turned to be lately.

Living, bloody living nightmares did exist, and he just consciously ignored it until he had to face it once more. The young man swallowed hard, his hands were shaking both from a great amount of anxiety and of wrath – pure wrath. Alas, he was well-educated, plus was good at Occlumency, not to behave. He tried his best, though, as he had to endure the old man's babbling about duties and love and other human inclinations he thought he was not concerned with at all. He was wrong, from beginning to end. He was, for Merlin's sake, human too – and he went aware of this on that night.

Snape could not stand on his feet and he finally gave up and let himself laying down in one chair, sobs blocked halfway in his throat. He only managed to hide his face with one hand, but tears still did not appear, despite the fact they were burning the corners of his eyes. His breath was put in difficulty, he could barely inhale without suffering from a painful ache that constricted his lungs due to his anxiety and when he could exhale, they were deep and loud as if he was a hurt animal – he was hurt, nevertheless he tried not to show it that much, but he actually failed like a perfect idiot so why still pretending not to be? That is why Dumbledore was talking along. Well, the Headmaster had been in the heart of a soliloquy for a dozen of minutes, and Snape only heard the half of it, his emotions too strong to disturb his reasoning. He was particularly mad at him. Why did it occur if the man had promised to do everything he could to protect and spare her – their lives? He could not handle it at all, his reasoning being the less efficient than at any time.

And – Oh! His mind ran so fast all of a sudden he understood in one click what was going on. The young man rose his head, startled, and gazed at Dumbledore right in the blank of the eye.

'Are you trying to manipulate me, aren't you', he stiffed, a sounding growl in the back of his voice – like a proper hurt animal.

The Headmaster stopped at once and took time to ponder whether he would be that honest with the Death Eater barely the half of himself in front of him.

'I am not', he answered calmly after a few seconds. 'Not completely', he added as Snape gave him that don't-fool-me look. 'I just try to give you hints to use your grief the best you can in order to ease your pain and… Why not, redeem yourself after those past years of misbehavior', concluded Dumbledore, his eyes sparkling either from kindness or seriousness – maybe there were both.

'As if looking after a child would be enough for wiping the board clean', Snape hissed, not that much confident in people who would be as much lenient as the man before him. He only had to watch his staff carefully to have the correct answer – as Snape had not been that much well-received this September and the trial that will be held at the beginning of the year to follow waiting for him, as society did not receive him well too.

'Still, Harry won't be there before a decade, I was wondering about how you could redeem yourself a bit earlier… If it's that only what stresses you out if not sufficient', wondered the old wizard out loud, while Snape looked at him in half-concern half-suspicion. It was not the first time the young man experienced his elder having that kind of ideas which were far more terrible than they appeared to be. This great wizard could be that frightening by only saying a few words – words that would displease the young professor here. It was beyond his abilities to look after a child.

'Don't you mind if I refresh your memory by telling to be cautious with some students here', and that time, the Headmaster did not look out of concern anymore, almost did he seem to scare the Death Eater. 'I heard that things went wrong with Melbourne lately, specifically with you. I understand the punishment for having hexed back his mates but to the point you retired dozens of points as well as given him detention is quite unfair. Didn't you note that the boy is bullied by people who believe in what you served so obediently under Voldemort's leadership?'

Oh my, Snape thought, as if learning Lily's death tonight was too little to endure to be criticized about a punishment old of one week. As if that dunderhead would stop making the weather on people's heads by simple willing. Moreover, he restrained himself from reminding the Headmaster his lack of duties while the Marauders attacked him. It was not the moment to come back to that, specifically since they were part of that night nightmare.

'His stubbornness and inclination of responding back after me is quite fair enough for the punishment I decided to inflict him', he answered back, still that growl in the back of his throat. 'And if I may talk about discipline with you later, that would be mostly polite from you', he added in a snarl, quite hurt in his hurt to have to discuss this in the middle of that nightmarish night.

'I daresay you are right', Dumbledore finally replied, after a very long moment of complete stiflingly silence. 'Still, please consider what I said about Melbourne whenever you can. He lost his most cherished ones quite three years ago. If you...'

'Enough', the Potions Master cut short. 'Enough. Don't play with my… grief… Whatever you like to name it… I understood, thank you to make sure of it but I think wiser I retire by now. I still have… plenty of things due to my position to do.' he found out as quickly as his thoughts actually allowed him to find out as a plausible excuse to withdraw. If only he could escape that living nightmare…

Dumbledore nodded in silence, real pain in both eyes and face and wishes him do well until breakfast time.

o0o0o0o0o

Snape gave a second look at the Ravenclaw table. That Sunday had been immemorial in all ways possible, between the great bursts of joy and pain when the news came in to report the Dark Lord defeat. A kind of dizziness had washed him up since he had woken up this morning, as he could not remember properly what not feeling was like. His Occlumency did not help that much, only to restrain the nightmares to steal every of his sleeping hours. Still not enough as he had difficulties in pouring tea without letting a single drop on his napkin before him. Therefore, abusing the Sleeping Draught would have been considered foolish from a Potions Master with much talent, as they side-effects were perfectly well-known to him. Everybody from the staff was particularly on their nerves in any case they had to face an incident as it happened the day before, as a collusion between pros and antis could only create lots of enmities behaviors – even in the ranks of teenagers still learning how to use their magic properly at school.

The Potions Master had tried to record Melbourne's whereabouts as far the students had read the Daily Prophet and he succeeded in recollecting a few of these by eavesdropping a few of those brats in the corridors while he surveyed the north aisle. On that day, unclear was it to note on the boy's face the remains of his sobs at the edge of the Forbidden Forest. That was what Snape was double-checking: how was he able not to care as the others did about what still transcended them all? He did not share neither the joy nor the anger from any of his mates, as if he was living in an impenetrable bubble – here, he actually lived in his own bubble.

The Eaglet was lost in his mind as he had the irritable tendency anywhere he was, his sky-blue eyes staring something high in the ceiling while trying to sip his own bowl of tea – a green double-lengthened brewed one as usual. Snape did not feel it before he heard his half-audible smirk and tried to faint being only preoccupied with his breakfast, but he perfectly knew Dumbledore, just seated at his right, had seen all of this as the younger could feel his elder's gaze on his carotid. The Potions Master gave up and finished his breakfast as fast as he could, avoiding getting up with a stomach ache, and retrieved in his own apartments until classes started.

Fortunately enough, the routine of a boarding school professor completed his long days quite well so that he had no spare time to let his feelings assaulting him, the remains of those resisting to his Occlumency though.

Quite true, unless you started your day with the fifth years including that light-headed dunderhead. Well, the most efficient exercise to be that horrible professor, wearing that mask all day, and taunting students here and there, Snape thought while welcoming the teenagers with a death glare addressed to each of them.

And as usual, the boy seated at the very back of the classroom, one of the duo of girls always coming along with him at his side. This time, Virginia composed the pair of them and Elizabeth joined another Ravenclaw student, Michael Pitt. The four of them were the lot of not bothering the Potions Master that much. They succeeded in giving him back their phials of potions at the end of class and were quite attentive to what he forced them to learn. Still, Melbourne was the most atypical of the group, as if his constant reverie mistook his professors; alas for Snape who had to go further than what that light-headed dunderhead appeared to be because whenever he asked him questions, he was able to give the answer he expected – even if the kind of answer he gave him was a bit gloomy. How could he learn about such detailed effects of poisons and brewing mistakes on the human body, it was a complete mystery as books never went that far in the explanations given. Still, his knowledge was always accurate and showed he was aware of the necessity of being particularly cautious while brewing potions. That last detail would be missing somehow later.

The year had begun in a sort of way that destabilized all the students, the aim driven by Snape was to put an end to his predecessor's lenience. Nonetheless they all had appeared having a certain quality background on potions, otherwise they were not as accurate as if the Potions Master would have taught them those. So, the young man had decided to flip a large part of the program schedule and demanded to astonished brats to brew a more complex solution as a start, the Shrinking Solution for what it was. He had not told them that it was a sort of test to evaluate how they would manage not to fail that much – he had not expected any of them to succeed an OWL potion far from September.

Nevertheless, that was not the first concern the professor had about Melbourne, if not his some sort of abilities to follow the track despite his tendency of daydreaming, but his poor health. At first, Snape did not see that, surely he had not paid enough attention to that kind of things the very first weeks. Time went by and he just had to witness the everyday exhaustion displayed by the boy. You certainly could put stuff into the large dark marks underlining his eyes. The Raven had already noted him yawning a couple of times in his classes and that close desire to sleep in a row the teenager tried desperately to avoid. On that day he was specifically out of service, far from the beginning, yet he never raised his hand when the professor asked the students what they could tell him on the subject they would have in practice a couple of minutes straight away later. So, the Potions Master only guessed it because Melbourne remained still, perfectly still, and his lost gaze wherever he had lost it was more blurred than usual. He clearly needed a Pepper-Up for a change, thought Snape bitterly as he was torturing his classmates to exhaustion, not at all satisfied by the huge holes in the recollection of things they had to tell him. How could they forget what they had to write him in an essay in one weekend, that was a complete disaster he had to compose with every single week.

Later, while the teenagers were preparing their potion, the young man walked between the ranks to control and comment whatever they were doing and stopped dead at the back of Melbourne who looked like the one concentrated in his task but Snape knew he was not simply by the way he was wasting his roots. Oh my, could he even pay attention to that most important procedure in the recipe? He exhaled loudly, had nothing in response and decided to use the strong way: he grabbed his book more firmly and gave a hit on the top of the boy's head. An 'ouch!' came back to his ears and that brat turned towards him, half-afraid – how delighted he felt: he succeeded in frightening the untouchable dunderhead and he visibly showed it by a mischievous smile.

'You are wasting your roots by the way you are torturing them', he said half-voiced, the tone of his voice so sweet that it indicated an invisible threat ready to strike. 'What is indicated both on the board and on the book, Melbourne?' The Eaglet watched both one after the other and froze, muffled a gap, still heard by Snape whose extreme pleasure to taunt him went to its top, and mumbled a 'cut the roots in small pieces' like the perfect prey which was going to be eaten. 'So, why are you reducing them in close powder, then? Don't you know reading?' achieved the Potions Master. He could see the small shaking that crossed his spine before freezing again. 'Really, disappointing' the professor trailed off before attacking Melbourne's co-worker, Virginia: 'And you, you are as stupid as him for not telling him he has been doing wrong for a couple of minutes.' End of story, next pair to traumatize. Seriously, what didn't they understand in 'Potions are a discipline that ask discipline, cautiousness and seriousness'?

As he finished his survey and came back to the front of the class to watch that whole pack of dunderheads, Snape had a second look on Melbourne. That time he did not look at him back as he always did, as if his sense was higher than the normal teenager. No, the boy was cutting another series of roots and by what he could see, he managed to cut them and not smashing them. Good, he would not make his cauldron explode. Both him and Virginia even gave him back a phial that contained what looked like what he had expected of the potion at the end of the double-hour class.

o0o0o0o0o

'Had he any relatives remained' he asked to his colleague Flitwick while both headed to the staff room. 'I mean, Melbourne', the young added for the Charms professor's better understanding.

'None I heard about', half-squeaked the Head of Ravenclaw, simply mystified such this man would care about one of his Eaglets. 'All his family is Muggle so I guess it would be unreasonable to let them know their nephew needs a home and known as a wizard, the Secrecy under consideration here – as it yet had been threatened at once.'

Snape stopped Flitwick moving forward and made his colleague turn to him to gaze at him.

'What's that all about?' A growl, again. Oh my, his emotions were stepping towards the barrier of his consciousness. Why now?

'If I understood it, Melbourne had shown a bit of his magic in front of his paternal family when he was barely six', Flitwick answered slowly, recollecting this memory from the back of his mind. 'Not to mention the whole mess that ensued at the Unspeakables' who had to erase the memories of seventeen people I believe...'. Oh! Seventeen people! What a tense situation to face even for well-trained Unspeakables. The Department surely had some trouble to decide for a specific protocol… The Potions Master released his grip he had on his colleague's arm at last, thoughtful about what he revealed, but he was quickly interrupted as the Head of Ravenclaw asked him why he specifically worried about Melbourne. The young man froze all at once and collected himself as fast as his doubt washed over him, his usual mask again on his face. His lips went thin and he only mumbled about his necessity to know the student better, to try to understand his attitude in class – which was not the entire truth but a tangible reason to justify his concern. Flitwick nodded in silence and both of them finally reached the staff room which was almost full at that hour of the day. Once again, the Raven had a reason to believe Melbourne was part of the lot creating troubles without noticing them. It would have been a nightmare for his siblings, his tutors or even his professors here, wouldn't it?

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'Was pouring me once not enough to try it again?' hissed Snape, his jaws half-clenched in total anger he tried to control anyway, while he was towering Melbourne whom wand was still in mid-air. 'And what part of the school rules didn't you understand to misbehave again and again like a stupid brat with no single thinking boiling your brain?'

The boy finally broke his guard and put his wand in his robe's pocket, eyes admiring his shoes.

''m sorry sir', he murmured, still knowing formal excuses were useless with the Potions Master. Behind the professor, the teenager could hear his bullies hardly controlling their mocking laughs towards him. Unfortunately to him, the Head of Slytherin had not arrived at time to witness the hexes they had cursed against the boy before he lost his temper and played with the weather inside once more. He never wanted to curse anything else, hurting people was beyond his mental capacities, so he had learned a bit of advanced charms to calm down his bullies with no mean to hurt them. Lately, things had turned into a big misfortune because every time Melbourne cast his spell, the result was pouring on Snape's head – or it was due to the special radar the professor developed for him exclusively to find himself under dark threatening clouds thundering and pouring a strong rain.

Snape tried to figure out all of this, before spitting out his long list of punishment. First, the Eaglet had changed in three and a bit more years, as he never answered back before while he'd been attacked. This pacific characteristic of his had been commented by a seven year Snape's 'such cowardice'. By now, it was the contrary – quite a surprising development, but understandable if the boy had been particularly annoyed since then. Secondly, who was he, Snape, to reprimand an attitude he had too as a student, even more biting than Melbourne? Nevertheless, as a professor, he could not pretend such behaviors did not exist and he had to punish, that was all. Thirdly, he admitted he was a bit impressed by the boy's ability to learn complex charms, one of Flitwick's fields of specialization not to say more, but he would never tell it out loud to the main concerned. Finally, by having a glance at the bullies who appeared not belonging to his House, things went worse, as if Melbourne's past non reaction had invited everyone to bully him.

'The lot of you behind my back', he said in a sour voice, 'Taking you ten points each'. What were laughs until now became cries of protest. 'If you are unsatisfied, I give you detention every single Saturday remaining this month and the next, for disrespect of the curfew'. A sounding silence went on after his words and the Potions Master turned his attention back to the teenager in front of him, his face impenetrable. 'What about a little excursion to my office effective, right now' he gave him in a murmur, pointing the way down to the Dungeons with his hand.

Melbourne said nothing, wondering if he were given a detention, pushing aside every impossibility that offered that only plausible choice to him, as the Raven never had a talk to any student outside from his House in his office and after the curfew.

Both of them walked side by side in complete silence until they reached the professor's office, him closing the door behind them and offered a seat to the student.

'How did you come up knowing that sort of spell' spurted out Snape not letting his student breathe more than one or two cycles after he let himself slump on the chair.

'Read it in a book', the boy answered shortly. A sharp look from his professor informed him that it was obvious and he wanted to know further details. Melbourne sighed, his shoulders fell a little bit, still he did not cross Snape's gaze at all. By the way, he avoided eye contact as much as he could.

'I was bothered by not defending myself when I'm attacked so I thought it would be better if I could answer back but – I couldn't stand the idea to hurt others so…' he finished in a gulp and shred his shoulders.

'Despite the fact it is forbidden to use spells wherever outside the classes' the Potions Master cut short. 'I didn't know you were inclined to that sort of attitude. Then, I must tell you you won't be left without any punishment.' This said, he took a pause and scanned the Eaglet's expression: he even did not look worried at all. Rares were the moments he frightened him at all after all. 'Detention Saturday morning, ten o'clock. I don't tolerate any late. Now, if you please, I'll bring you to your Common Room.'

The sentence proclaimed, Melbourne nodded in silence, stood up and followed the Raven up to the fifth floor, the corridors dark and silent as they must be every night. They only met a few of the professors who were assigned to patrol in the areas they were given to survey. Only McGonagall stopped them to ask whether Snape was with a student at this hour of the evening, the latter murmuring he had to know why the fifth year had started to hex other dunderheads and because of it had a detention the following weekend. Again, thought the Transfiguration professor, that would not be a surprise Melbourne would reach a record of punishments with Snape as a professor…

o0o0o0o0o

Snape was wrong: things went worse as they were a few days later, wondering what would have been done and if he should have better forbidden the brat to come to class at first, but possibilities were possibilities and facts could not be erased so he had to face it anyway. To what cost?

The class went on classically in a routine. First, the professor asked the students what they could tell him off the topic they were studying, then he handed them back the essays and criticized what was due to criticize and finally gave them the instructions written on the board with a flick from his wand.

Roughly about half the first hour of the two, a specific smell, a sour odor even, slowly spread into the room that interrupted Snape in his inspection straight away, gave him quivers and the only thing he remembered far from there was to shout out 'Out, NOW!' to an astonished audience who could not believe their ears. Surely they did not expect that at all and as no explanation went on but only a second series of 'OUT, everybody OUT!' and a quite stressful Dungeons' Bat, the teenagers finally stepped out to the exit obediently, before Snape could recollect and demand them to go at the Hospital Wing at once – better if they did not want to end up dead later in the day. That was enough for them to cooperate. The human race was that they belong to the mammals scared about death. Now, he could concentrate on the origin of the matter, the catastrophe, and ran to Melbourne's place where the boy had tried to shield his cauldron but apparently failed as he had lost control of his temper: he was silently crying, his hands were shaking and the Potions Master stopped him doing one more try to spare an explosion by a short series of unformulated spells. The mixture had then vanished and by now the Raven was darkly eyeing to death the poor Eaglet who could not stop crying.

'What the Hell did you do with the daisies?' hissed Snape half-voiced, his anxiety level so high it could be heard, such as his anger, his hands flat on the desk. 'Are you that unconscious to forget to pay attention at all and try to kill all your classmates, Melbourne?' The student could only sob, unable to speak or to react, all shaken himself. Then, the professor obliged him to go out of the classroom, closed the door and sailed it before taking the dunderhead by the arm painfully and climbed the stairs up to Mrs Pomfrey's place.

'Stop yelling, I can't even understand a bit of what you perfectly spit out of your breath', cut firmly the matron, herself quite out of her nerves – receiving a whole class in a row in her aisle all of a sudden was particularly stressful, mostly because none of them was able to explain to her the situation as they did not know what happened. Snape closed his mouth, upset as he was, sighed loudly before starting the story from its beginning in a more intelligible voice.

Pomfrey's eyes widened at the end of it and she peeped a look at Melbourne whom face was wet because of the tears that continued rolling on his cheeks. Subsequently she demanded him to lay down on one of the extra beds she had summoned and most of all not moving a single finger.

'Shouting doesn't solve the problem, plus I would add that it can worsen your health by now', she then said to the Head of Slytherin, before she handed the last bed in order to make a proper diagnosis, but she had first to confine the lot as they all were exposed to toxic smokes, even for a few minutes.

Despite the matron's warnings, Snape did not calm down at all, pondering again and again all day about what happened that morning until the point his faints were quite strong and he could barely raise his head while he was laying on the bed. That fed his thoughts more and he slowly but surely hated the brat more and more. Oh, if he could get up, reach the boy's bed and hit him with whatever his hands could grip on the way, he would do so.

The day went on, Madam Pomfrey running from one side of the Hospital Wing to the other to give Solutions to the students and to appear at the bedside of one of them whenever they asked after her.

As the sky went dark and the lights from the candles came brighter inside, the matron had not the luxury to make a pause, the majority of the symptoms (coughs, throat inflammations, red blotches wherever they could appear, faints, nausea, even vomiting to those more sensitive) controlled, she was on the idea of seating when the doors banged open and four figures appeared at the threshold. They soon revealed themselves: the Headmaster and the three Heads of Houses had been hearing about what had occurred and had decided to see by themselves the consequences of a very rare accident. Their faces look pretty much worried and even stern from McGonagall who could only feel but some sort of anxiety washing over on her.

Aware of the visitors' presence as he heard them come in, in spite of his faints not losing their grip on him, Snape managed to get up and sit up on his bed, growling under his breath from pain and upset. Nonetheless, he did not try to stand up, his limbs still feeble and knowledgeable of the missed potion effects. Then, he glanced at Sprout and saw she came with a series of sunflower seeds to complete the counter-poison Pomfrey had started to brew, after he had indicated her all the ingredients involved in the accident.

'It would have been worse', she commented still she looked concerned and took the issue as it was. 'Is everybody well hydrated? So, I'm giving this to Madam Pomfrey', she concluded, turning her feet to step to the matron's office. Snape followed her until she was out of sight after she closed the office door, then he heard someone clearing one's throat and he reported his attention to the three colleagues remaining at his side. Unfortunately to him, by the way the three of them looked hard at him, he painfully swallowed and waited for their interrogations.

He first had to explain again what had happened, hardly restraining himself from expressing his anger towards Melbourne, still he remained polite and matter-of-factly. By the way, he concluded there had to be something made about the teenager, addressing it to Flitwick specifically.

'It's like he hadn't slept for weeks', he said in a murmur. 'And skipping most of the meals doesn't do well to him as well'.

Dumbledore nodded, agreeing by this simple gesture, his eyes sparkling that peculiar shade signifying 'beware of what you're going to say next'.

'What are the measures to make about the classroom, then?' asked McGonagall.

'I will reuse the counter-poison as a mister but I think wiser not to have class in there for a while.' the Potions Master answered with a blank tone. 'On other matters, I would like to have a private chat with Flitwick', he ended with his more usual strict looks.

o0o0o0o0o

'This punishment is overly disproportionate', Flitwick snapped back when his colleague was having a hard time to try not to display his anger – but he failed, clearly he failed as he just said that he intended to put Melbourne in detention for a complete three-month time period. 'And I would add that is completely out of educational meanings! What do you want him to remember from doing such a mistake, if not by rubbing the backs of cauldrons every single night for a quarter? He hasn't come over his shock yet!'

'That's not my problem. If he had been paying attention far from the beginning, he won't feel miserable now', stung the Raven, who did not calm down a bit. 'I won't let him without any punishment. You won't change my mind on this.' he added threateningly.

The Charms professor sighed. Indeed, he admitted that point but the kind his colleague had decided was so unfair as his pupil was scared to his wits. He was still crying when he left the Hospital Wing.

So he had to accomplish his role as Head, which meant he had to be Melbourne's lawyer. The man crossed his office to open a cashier from his furniture from which he took a heavy file and handed half a dozen of papers to a suspicious Snape.

'Here are the proofs that Melbourne is not as light-headed as he appears to be. He is top in most of his classes, his professors praise his seriousness and his work. He had always been cautious in Potions, professor Slughorn could rely on it. But punishing him like you want him to is far from being productive to him and I, as Head of House oppose to it, unless you change your word.'

The Potions Master had scanned the papers, the boy's marks and professors' remarks from the previous year, then he glanced at his colleague and scowl.

'Whereas he seems so perfect, he still managed to miss the track on potions this year with me. So, unless he endured an Obliviate during the summer, he actually forgot to be attentive.' he concluded while he put the papers on the desk in front of him.

This time, Flitwick lost a bit of his temper, otherwise he bit his lower lip to think twice before attacking the Raven. 'I'm not minimizing his acts but...'

'But you're going to do it anyway', Snape cut him, attracting the Head of Ravenclaw's dark gaze.

'Didn't you ever pay attention to his bad condition? Didn't you guess he is bullied like… Let me remind you… someone had been so while he was a student here?'

'As far as I am aware of how those dunderheads act with one another, I'd like you not to tell that I'm too blind and stupid to even note Melbourne is completely sore. And I remind you that I can't do anything about it at all but teach him Potions and giving him detentions and take him points.'

'You missed a huge and important part of the professor's role, if I may say so' Flitwick bit back. 'I'll tell you now: you have to note and report any unusual behavior from your students, belonging or not to you House and Melbourne's soreness is one of those.'

o0o0o0o0o

The Heads of House and the Headmaster were sitting in his office, waiting for Melbourne. Tea had been prepared and they chatted, quite an animated one, until a timid series of knocks could be heard. Dumbledore invited the boy to come in and all of them could witness how miserable he looked while he took a seat and mumbled the usual politeness, not daring to gaze any of his professors.

'A cup of tea, William?' asked the old wizard, and after a nod from the pupil, a cup levitated to him. 'How do you feel? I heard you remained at the Hospital Wing, and I daresay it was clever to do so.'

The teenager shrugged and kept his mouth closed, a kind of knot made in his throat, from his culpability and shyness both at once. He was right, as the meeting was mostly about warnings, from the Potions classes' security and his quite bad health. To conclude this, Snape announced the punishment: detention for two weeks and an essay about the dangers of misusing the daisies and other ingredients appearing to be inoffensive to hand him as soon as possible.

The student went back to the Hospital Wing and cried a little bit more.

o0o0o0o0o