Ah, King's Cross...

To most magical children, it was nothing more than the place where they boarded the Hogwarts Express and journeyed on into their next year of school. To Harry Potter, however, the train station was much more than that: it was his gateway to freedom.

Free from his imprisonment at Privet Drive…

Free from the Ministry's ludicrous Decree for the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery…

And this year, it also meant that Harry was finally free from Snape's clutches.

After all that the man had done for him so far, Harry found that he didn't exactly hate Snape. After all, "hate" was a very strong word.

No, Harry figured his attitude towards the snarky professor had downsized to a level of mere "dislike" by now. Snape had not been a very pleasant companion this last week— not that Harry had expected any less of him— and he was certain that Snape thought of his company to be equally unpleasant.

At least the feeling's mutual, Harry thought sourly as he shoved his trolley along the various platforms of the Muggle components of the station. Snape never once offered to help, which was fine with Harry; he didn't wish to admit just how hard it was pushing this massive load, in fear of appearing weak in front of his most daunting professor.

With just five minutes until the Hogwarts Express departed, they arrived at the area between platforms nine and ten. Muggles were rushing past them in hordes; for some reason there were a lot more than usual, making the task of inconspicuously slipping between the brick wall barrier all the more difficult.

"Go on, Potter," Snape stiffly nodded towards the wall. There was a grubby homeless man sleeping near the spot where Harry needed to sneak through; would they have to move him? And if he woke up, how in the world would they explain why he had to move from this particular wall?

Snape obviously paid no attention to the tattered fellow, and gave Harry a harsh shove towards the wall. Last year, he had had Mrs. Weasley kindly helping him; this year, Snape's no-nonsense approach made Harry quite nervous about going through the seemingly-solid barrier once more.

"Sir…there's a man—"

"—hurry, Potter!" he barked at the boy, realizing there was only three minutes until the train departed for Hogwarts. If the boy missed the train, it would be entirely Potter's fault. Even the boy's owl squawked impatiently at him.

Sighing determinedly, Harry kicked his feet back and charged at the wall, running as fast as he could. The sooner he was away from Snape, the sooner he could see Ron and Hermione again…

The homeless man had woken up by this point, and was now gaping in horror at the sight of a young boy sprinting at top speed towards him with a heavily-loaded trolley. Harry tried slowing down to allow him to get out of the way, but he had too much momentum by this point, and his attempt at braking was rendered useless. With a magnificent crash, Harry and his trolley collided head-on with the unfairly solid wall. Why hadn't it worked for him? Was it because a Muggle had been touching it at the time?

He saw shiny white stars for a few moments, before someone angrily jerked him by the arm onto his feet. Dazed from the impact of the crash, Harry swayed dangerously until his vision finally cleared. All of his belongings were scattered everywhere, and poor Hedwig was trapped in her cage under his thankfully still-closed trunk. Muggles were now staring at the strange scene between platforms nine and ten, wondering why the idiot boy had purposely ran straight at a solid wall. At the insistence of the creepy man in billowing black robes, however, they quit their gawking and went along their way.

The homeless drunk had fled from the scene; at least there hadn't been any magic performed, otherwise he surely would have needed some memory modifications.

"What happened?" Harry asked as he helped Snape pick up his belongings. Snape shrugged irritably and motioned for Harry to follow him.

"I'll go first, Potter," Snape sneered at him. "We don't need any more embarrassing accidents like that from you."

Harry half wondered if the barrier wouldn't let Snape through either, but to his astonishment, he strolled right through as though he were walking through a cloud.

Okay, if he can do it so easily, then so can I, Harry thought fiercely as he revved up his trolley for another go. Hedwig hooted uncertainly, but it was now or never: the train departed in just one minute.

Just as he had on the first attempt, Harry ran as hard as he could at the barrier. It allowed Snape through; surely whatever had stopped him from going through before was solved…

CRASH!

This collision was even more explosive than the first one; Harry was flung backwards, but this time he managed to catch Hedwig's cage before they both hit the ground. His head rebounded off the concrete with a terrible crack, and for a second, he thought he had split his head open. More Muggles had stopped to observe him this time as well, but he got to his feet and angrily shooed them away; feeling too humiliated to accept their offers of assistance. Not that they would have been of any help, anyways, unless they somehow knew how to get onto a platform that none believed to exist.

"Potter!"

Snape had come back through the wall to see what the fuss was about. Noticing Harry's possessions once again strewn everywhere, he turned slightly paler.

"What's going on Potter?" he demanded, even though he knew the boy had just as much of an idea as he did. Perhaps there was something wrong with the magical barrier, but there was no way he could possibly reveal his wand out in public like this…not with all these nosy Muggles around…

"It's…it's not working, sir," he replied shakily, as he stooped over to once again pick up his school things. Hedwig was squawking furiously and flapping her wings as though she were taking flight in her own cage.

"Let's try this one more time," Snape said edgily once Harry's things were reorganized. Harry readied his bent-up trolley once more, but Snape held up a hand. "Try it alone first, Potter."

Frowning in concentration, Harry quickly decided he wouldn't try running this time. He already had enough bruises by now and he wasn't in the mood for further public humiliation. He felt slightly apprehensive this time, but hid this from Snape as he approached the wall at a swift walk. He hesitated when he was two strides away, but forced his legs to keep moving. He told himself he would make it through this time, and Snape would follow a moment after with his trolley.

As soon as he hit the wall, he jumped back and growled angrily.

"It's not working!"

Snape swore under his breath. "Potter! It works fine, you're just not concentrating!"

To prove his point, he charged at the barrier— the train was leaving in twenty seconds— but this time, he, too, smacked into the now-completely solid wall. He was so stunned to find that it didn't work for him either, that he was rendered speechless. Both he and Potter couldn't get through. How could this be? He knocked on the brick just to confirm it. It remained firm. Harry looked up at his professor, though he didn't dare laugh at his inability to get past the barrier this time. Finally, he looked down at Harry with a strange expression: for some reason, it wasn't the cold, loathing glare he always got, but rather a mixture of confusion and uncertainty. Snape looked up at the Muggle clock above them: the train left a minute ago.

Harry was shocked by some of the words that came from his professor's mouth; if he had said those words aloud, he would have received detention for two months.

"What now, sir?" he asked timidly once Snape's swear-fest was done. If he was still permitted to return to Hogwarts, he'd have to find another way of getting there, because the train was long gone by now. He thought sadly of his friends: Ron and Hermione had no idea where he was and they were probably wondering if he had ditched them for another compartment on the train. If only they knew…

xXxXxXxXx

Crack.

Harry— still closing his eyes from the horrible crushing feeling that had previously engulfed his entire body— barely managed to stay on his feet as they landed on solid ground. There was another explosive crack, which Harry initially thought to be another person Apparating, but it was really a bolt of lightning overhead. Only then did he realize it was pouring down rain, and he was completely soaked after just thirty seconds of standing there. Snape was standing next to him, looking just as wet, though somewhat warmer; he seemed to think it was amusing watching Harry stand there, violently shivering, while he had cast a Warming Charm over his own robes.

"Where are we?" Harry asked once he got a better look at the place. The streets were completely deserted, though the light was on in one of the shops called Honeydukes. "Why didn't we just go to Hogwarts?"

"We Apparated to Hogsmeade, Potter," Snape snarled impatiently. "If you possessed any ounce of sense, you would have known from Hogwarts: A History that one cannot Apparate within the boundaries of the school. No more questions, I already have the Ministry to worry about…"

"Why?"

"Did I not just say—"

"I'm just asking, sir," Harry said nervously. If Snape wasn't a criminal like he and Ron supposed he was, why would he be worried about the Ministry?

"Because, Potter…Apparating with an underaged wizard is considered illegal. Now, one more question and I swear I'll hex—"

"Harry Potter!"

Snape, startled by the sound of the squeaky intruder behind them, whirled around to face the person. Nobody was there; at least no person was there. It was an ugly little house elf, but not any house elf: the Malfoy's elf. What was that cursed thing's name again?

"Dobby?!" Harry sputtered, right on cue.

The elf trembled with a mixture of awe and fright at the sound of the boy saying his name. His giant round eyes didn't blink back the raindrops that drizzled down from the heavens; but rather remained entirely focused on Harry.

"What…what is Harry Potter doing here?" the elf whispered. For some unknown reason, he repeatedly refused to look at the infuriated adult standing next to the boy.

"I'm going to Hogwarts," Harry replied impatiently. Suddenly, he looked around and noticed that something was missing. "Where's my trunk?"

Snape barely heard him. His eyes were transfixed on the familiar elf in front of them; he had been the one who told Draco about Potter not coming to Hogwarts…was this some sort of conspiracy? He absentmindedly pulled the boy's micro-sized trunk out of his pocket and resized it with his wand, but his attention remained on the elf.

"Harry Potter cannot…please…" the elf pleaded, his eyes growing watery with pitiful tears. "There's no point…"

"No point?" Harry asked incredulously. "You've already tried this before…I have my friends here…and lessons…and—"

"No Quidditch though," Dobby murmured in a terrified voice, looking down at his ugly feet with forced fascination.

"Well, yeah, there's that, but…wait! How did you know about my broom?"

Dobby looked as though he had just come face-to-face with Death. Suddenly, the elf screamed and threw himself at Harry's feet; rolling around in the mud and sobbing unashamedly.

"Stop it, Dobby…please quit it," Harry begged the elf, feeling more overwhelmed than angry at the moment. With an obnoxiously loud sniff, Dobby got to his feet, wobbling dangerously. His old rag was covered in filth, but he didn't seem to notice.

"Dobby had to do it, Harry Potter…Dobby had to…"

"You destroyed the broom?" Harry asked, his heart feeling strangely heavy in his chest. He knew it was already gone; the elf's confession didn't make the situation better or worse, because he wasn't getting it back no matter what.

"No," the elf moaned. "Harry Potter's cousin broke the broom. Dobby stole the flight piece."

So that's what that sound was, Harry thought, remembering the Apparating noise he had heard that night but had been too distracted to care. By now, Dobby had resumed his self-torture ritual of throwing himself in the deepest, muddiest puddles he could find; no doubt trying to drown himself. Harry carefully pulled the creature away from the sludgy pools and set him down onto the ground.

"But…why?"

"Harry Potter must not return to Hogwarts!" Dobby wailed, his hysteria growing to alarming levels. He threw his tiny body at Harry, as though he were trying to keep him from taking a step further towards the place of his supposed future destruction. Just before Harry went to move him out of the way, Snape harshly kicked the creature out of the way instead.

"As touching as this is, Potter," Snape sneered at him, "the headmaster would like to see you immediately and we do not have time for these theatrics."

Harry looked sadly towards Dobby, who was now furiously trying to writhe his way out of the thickened mud his head was stuck in. The elf was surely mad; there was nothing he could do or say to make him change his mind. No matter what the elf did, there was no way he was leaving Hogwarts for good…

"No!" Dobby howled once he had freed his head and saw the two walking up the path to the darkened castle. He scrambled after them as quickly as he could, lunged at Harry's left leg and latched onto it with a surprisingly strong grip.

"Argh— Dobby— let— go—"

There was a flash of light, and Dobby released his grip, screaming in pain as he did so. Obviously irritated with the whole situation, Snape had resorted to using magic rather than physical force against Dobby.

"Stop! Don't hurt him," Harry pleaded, stepping in the path between the end of Snape's wand and Dobby. The elf began sobbing again upon Harry's unusually kind treatment of him, but Snape wasn't prepared to let the elf get away without punishment. If only that little piece of filth knew how much grief he had caused him in the past week…

"Get out of the way, Potter," Snape snarled, but Harry wouldn't budge.

Remembering his orders, Dobby willingly came from his hiding spot behind Harry's legs and faced Snape. He was to stop the boy from returning to the school at any costs; even his own life. He had to obey his master.

All three seemed to freeze for a second: Snape with his wand pointed threateningly at Dobby's heart, Harry staring in shock at the elf's courage at standing up to Snape, and Dobby shakily waiting for whatever was to come.

Please don't kill the elf, Harry thought silently. It's not worth killing him…

"Imperio."

Dobby's eyes went suddenly blank, and his body straightened unnaturally, as though someone had placed an invisible back brace on him.

"I said don't hurt him!" said Harry worriedly.

Snape ignored him. He flicked his wand at the elf and flicked it again in the opposite direction. At once, Dobby set off at a swift pace, without a single word or frenzied temper tantrum. It was like he took on a completely new personality, not that Harry minded his departure; still, he had to wonder, did it hurt the elf?

"The Imperious," Snape began explaining as he casually put his wand back into his pocket; ensuring that he was careful to leave out the 'curse' part, "usually doesn't hurt the victim at all, Potter. Just leave him be and he should return to his family once the— ah, charm wears off."

Harry wanted to ask what exactly the Imperious did, but he didn't have time: Snape was already stomping away…

xXxXxXxXx

"Harry!"

Out of the corner of his eye, Snape noticed Granger and Weasley charging at Potter down by Gryffindor's table. He never did understand why those two were so clingy to the boy; his leadership skills were certainly lacking, though perhaps they only appreciated him for his fame? Of course, deep down, he knew the true reason…but close friendship was one of those things he just couldn't wholly comprehend.

Who would want to listen to Granger babble on about her oh-so-exciting summer, anyways? He thought sourly. Still, he figured he ought to cheer up a little. After all, Potter was completely Dumbledore's responsibility from now on; aside from Potions class that is.

"Well done, Severus," a woman's stern, yet somewhat softer voice came from the right of him. It was Minerva.

"It looks like Harry is doing well."

Snape grunted.

"He's really not as bad as you think he is, you know," she prodded him gently. He ignored her and pretended to take a big gulp of pumpkin juice.

"I'm glad you were able to get him here safely," she finished, figuring it was better giving up now while she was ahead. Severus would never admit to liking any son of James Potter, even if the boy was good-natured and tried hard in his studies. Not that it mattered, since her outwardly-unpleasant colleague seemed to hate everyone, not matter who they were.

"Good evening, Severus."

Snape didn't have to turn around to see the second person. He knew who it was before the man even spoke.

Merlin, is it too much to ask for a little privacy?

Dumbledore remained standing where he was and gently placed his hand on Snape's shoulder. He flinched upon contact, but he was too exhausted to bother shaking it away. Minerva offered her chair to the headmaster, but he politely refused. Immediately realizing he wished to talk with Severus, she turned to Gilderoy and pretended to be enthralled with his banshee tales.

"I know I asked a lot from you, Severus."

"No you didn't," Snape replied at once, knowing the headmaster would have wanted him to disagree.

"I see Harry is doing well."

"That is exactly what Minerva said," Snape murmured as he looked over at Potter and his friends. Granger and Weasley were laughing at something one of the Weasley twins said and Potter was trying— and failing— to coax the thoroughly-insecure Weasley girl into talking to him.

Dumbledore lowered his voice. "I assure you received my thanks? I certainly hope it was enough."

"It was more than enough," Snape replied dully, wondering what Dumbledore was getting at.

His blue eyes twinkled mysteriously as Snape turned around and looked directly at him. Luckily, he was a skilled Occlumens, otherwise Dumbledore would have seen right through him.

"Have you spent any of it, yet?" Dumbledore asked curiously.

"No," Snape lied and automatically put up his mental shields. Oh, what tortures would await him if the old wizard found out…

"Very well," Dumbledore continued smiling serenely. "Have a nice year, then, Severus."

And without another word, the headmaster walked away.

xXxXxXxXx

"Someone woke up late this morning," Harry teased Ron as he entered the Great Hall with his eyes barely open the next day. He grunted an incoherent response and immediately began shoving as many pieces of toast into his mouth as he could manage.

"Honestly, Ron," Hermione scolded him. "Show some manners!"

Ron ignored her. "Post come yet?"

Harry shook his head and turned to Hermione. "What classes do we have today?"

"Transfiguration first, then Charms later."

Harry sighed with relief. He had been worried about Potions; he wasn't ready to face Snape after all that had happened the last week. Not that he had to worry, anyways, since Snape was apparently absent from the teacher's table this morning. Suddenly, he heard a squawk overhead, and a tiny barn owl accidentally dropped Hermione's Daily Prophet onto his sausages, splattering grease everywhere.

Owls of all shapes and sizes were fluttering into the hall; a welcoming sight after a summer of his uncle's anti-owl rules at Privet Drive. Hedwig swooped down and softly pecked at Harry's ear.

"Ouch! What do you want?" Harry waited for her to hold out her leg, but there were no messages attached.

"You came down here just to snatch some free food huh? Fine, I get it, I'll come visit you later, now shoo!"

Hedwig ruffled her feathers irritably and departed along with the rest of the owls. It was awfully odd for her to have come down here without a message…Harry wondered if she was feeling ill…

A few moments later, three medium-sized owls entered the Great Hall. They were a little behind schedule: all of the other owls had left already, and everyone stared at the trio, wondering what they had tied to their legs. It was a large, carefully wrapped package, and it was headed straight for Gryffindor's table.

One by one, the tired owls gave up flying, and all of them landed with a mighty crash right in front of Ron, Harry, and Hermione.

Hermione was quick to release the poor birds from their restraints, and they hooted feebly to thank her. Ron snatched up the note attached to the skinny package and found it difficult to hide his disappointment as he handed it over to Harry.

"It's for you," he said glumly, though he was still interested in seeing what it was.

Harry looked down at the note. All it said was HARRY POTTER. Strange…

"Well, go on, open it Harry!" George Weasley prodded him, with the rest of the Gryffindors nodding eagerly in agreement.

Feeling slightly ridiculous from the attention, Harry hastily tore away the paper. The shape was so familiar, yet how could it be…? Surely he was just imagining it…?

He wasn't. Right there, in front of him, lay a brand-new Nimbus Two Thousand and One. Ron yelped at the sight of the magnificent broom lying in front of them, though Hermione looked more skeptical than amazed.

"Where'd you get that, Harry?"

"Merlin! Did you win the wizard's lottery, Harry?"

"That's the best broom in the world! There's no way we'll lose to Slytherin this year!"

Harry continued staring back and forth between the broom and the note in his hands. It seemed as though every Gryffindor was surrounding him now, admiring his broom and greedily calculating their chances at winning the Quidditch Cup this year. He, however, was too stunned for words at the sight of the magnificent broom in front of him. And to think, it was his...

"Can I hold it?"

"Are you going to ride it later?"

"Where did you get it?"

"Where did you get it?" Hermione asked suspiciously after Harry passed the broom off to the horde of excited Gryffindors down the table from them.

"I dunno…it doesn't matter though," he said defensively, fearing where Hermione would go with this.

"Doesn't matter?" Ron repeated incredulously. "Of course it does! Write back and tell them to get me one too!"

"Ron!"

"Oh come on, Hermione! A Nimbus Two Thousand and One! Who wouldn't want one?"

"I wouldn't," Hermione snapped. "At least not from a random stranger. Give me that note, Harry."

"Why?" Harry held it back protectively, as though she were threatening to burn it.

"Just give it to me," said Hermione exasperatedly. Harry unwillingly gave it to her, and after a few moments of silent investigating, Hermione looked up at them.

"Well, this is definitely a woman's handwriting."

"A woman's?" Ron squawked, grabbing the message back from Hermione and obsessively looking it over again. "Why would a woman get Harry a broom?"

"Girls like Quidditch too," Ginny snapped at him from across the table; she had been so quiet that Ron and Harry hadn't even noticed she was there. Suddenly realizing that Harry was looking at her, she blushed madly and turned her head away in embarrassment.

"Stay out of this, Ginny," Ron replied hotly, then turned back to Hermione. "Well? Who do you think bought this?"

"Gee, I don't know," Hermione said sarcastically. "Maybe Professor McGonagall?"

"She has a point, you know," Harry whispered to Ron, who was still furiously examining the note.

"I still don't think—"

"Fine. We'll ask someone else…George," Hermione called to one of the Weasley twins sitting down at their end of the table.

He looked up and grinned. "Actually, I'm Fred—"

"Whatever…can you tell me who wrote this?" she seized the paper from Ron and handed it to him.

"I don't know…anyone could have written it I suppose…"

"I meant who wrote it? A man or a woman? Surely a woman?" Hermione added, showing him the swirly H in Harry's name. "That's exactly how I write my H's as well."

"No, I think it was written by a guy," Fred replied evenly, handing it back to Hermione, who now looked quite livid.

"HA!" Ron cried triumphantly with a bit of yogurt dripping out of his mouth. "Told you!"

"Oh who cares what he thinks?" Hermione spat. "I'm sure Angelina would agree with me."

Indeed she did. Hermione obsessively went around the Gryffindor table for the rest of breakfast, asking everyone whom they thought wrote the note. Most girls agreed with Hermione, while most of the boys agreed with Ron, though Hermione automatically ignored their opinions once they disagreed with her.

"Does it really matter?" Harry asked her later in Transfiguration. "Or was it more about proving Ron wrong?"

Hermione glared at him as though he had taken Ron's side as well. "I knew I was right, I just wanted to make sure."

"Okay then," Harry shrugged it off and turned back to the day's lesson. Day One and his friends were already off to a bumpy start. Professor McGonagall hadn't asked him any questions regarding the broom yet, and she had undoubtedly heard about his unexpected gift by now, leading Harry to believe that Hermione was indeed right: McGonagall had bought him the broom. He couldn't deny it, after all, because the evidence was overwhelming: Gryffindor hadn't won the Cup in quite a few years, and she wanted her house to win as much as Harry did. Surely she'd have realized how lousy their chances were with a broom-less Seeker?

It was extraordinarily generous of her to have done that, so Harry hung back at the end of the lesson to thank her.

"You're still here, Potter?" she asked him curiously once she had finished packing up all her belongings.

"Yes…" he bit his lip, unsure of how to go about saying this, "…um, Professor?"

"Yes?"

"I…I uh, wanted to thank you," he stuttered, feeling oddly flustered at the moment. Perhaps it was because he wasn't used to such kind acts from the woman?

She stared at him blankly. "For what, Potter?"

Harry smiled inwardly, finding it funny that she was trying to hide her generosity. "Well, uh…for the broom, Professor. I've never received a nicer gift and I—"

"—I didn't get you that broom, Potter."

"What?"

"I didn't get you the broom."

Harry nearly choked. Everyone had been so certain that it was McGonagall. It couldn't possibly have been anyone else. Madam Hooch wouldn't have wanted to show favouritism to a particular team…Professor Sprout barely knew his name…Madam Pomfrey hardly approved of Quidditch, as it caused too many injuries…maybe it wasn't a woman after all?

"Then…then who did?" he wondered aloud.

"I assumed your relatives had purchased it for you."

"The Dursleys?" Harry snorted. "They're Muggles. And they'd never do anything nice like that."

McGonagall smiled sadly. "I'm afraid I can't argue with you there, Potter. But we teachers barely make enough to support ourselves during the summer. Buying a broom for a student— no matter how talented a Quidditch player he is," she said with a wink, "— is unheard of."

Harry was taken aback by the sudden sternness on her face.

"However, if we don't know who sent it to you, I'm afraid we'll have to examine it for traces of Dark Magic."

"What?" Harry yelped. He would have never asked her about his broom if he had known they would do that!

"Safety precautions, Potter," she snapped impatiently. "After last year's incident with Professor Quirrell, we can't take any risks with you. If you don't find out who sent it to you within the next week, I'm going to have to confiscate it. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have another class coming in any minute."

Harry numbly walked out the door; McGonagall quickly shut it behind him before he could turn around and ask any more questions.

So she didn't get it for him.

It was meant for him, though, wasn't it? Otherwise, what idiot would write his name on a broomstick delivery that wasn't for him?

As far as he could remember, he didn't have any friends in the wizarding world outside of Hogwarts. Hagrid surely couldn't have bought him anything that extravagant, but only he cared enough about Harry to do such a thing.

Maybe it was Dumbledore, Harry thought as he joined Ron and Hermione for lunch in the same spot where he had first received his broom that morning. He only wished there was something he could do to return the favour to whoever had purchased it for him…

xXxXxXxXx

The next day, Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Neville grudgingly made their way down the stony steps that led to the Potions classrooms. It had seemed like a lifetime since they had been in these dungeons; Neville was so terrified at the idea of seeing Snape again that he was tripping all over his feet before finally falling at the end of the stairs. Ron and Harry hastily caught him, and Hermione patted the poor boy's shoulder reassuringly.

Ron entered first; then Neville, then Hermione. Harry brought up the rear and closed the door.

"You're late, Mr. Potter," Snape's sneering voice came from the shadows at the front of the room.

Harry gaped at him. For some reason, he had held onto this tiny flicker of hope that maybe, just maybe Snape would be more reasonable this year. After all, he had tried his best to prove to the nasty git that he wanted to do well in Potions this year; was he really going to give Harry a detention for being three seconds late?

"Ten points from Gryffindor, Potter," he began with a satisfied smirk on his face. "And five from Granger, Weasley, and Longbottom."

Harry scowled as he took his seat. Snape watched him closely, though not with the usual hateful glare that he reserved only for Harry. Instead, he looked rather…amused today.

Barely skimming the pages in his textbook, Harry gathered the ingredients for the day's lesson and began the assignment with Ron.

Halfway into the class— when they reached the step that involved chopping Nilla Leaves— Harry realized with a jolt: he had asked Snape about this potion a couple days ago during dinnertime. Breakfast had been a disaster, but Snape had been less irascible later in the evening, and had actually answered a few of Harry's questions.

"Don't chop them up like that," Harry whispered to Ron, who was now turning red from the effort of trying to cut up the stubborn leaves. His eyes darted over to Snape; he was busy admiring Malfoy's potioneering abilities to notice Harry talking.

"Why not? Book says to do it like this," Ron grunted as he continued slamming the silver knife down with every ounce of strength he could muster.

"I know, but look, try it like this," Harry demonstrated the way Snape had told him to try it, but Ron shook his head.

"The book didn't say that."

"I know, but…" he trailed off as Snape's glittering black eyes suddenly landed on Harry, making him fall silent at once.

Ron ignored Harry's advice, which didn't really matter, since it looked as though his potion was a lost cause no matter what he did at this point. Harry's potion, however, was now a soft, simmering yellow; exactly what it was supposed to look like at this stage. Even Hermione was staring at him from across the table: her own potion was still a vibrant orange colour. She frowned enviously and resumed helping Neville with his rainbow-coloured potion while hers brewed.

At the end of the lesson, Harry was tired, but shocked as well: his potion was the exact same lime colour as described in the book. For once, he might just receive a passing grade…

This was more than what he could say for Ron, whose potion had now fizzled into a plasma-like state and looked as though it consisted of the burnt remnants of Aunt Petunia's cooking. Poor Ron continued darting jealous glances between his unfortunate concoction and Harry's flawless one, wondering what he had done wrong.

"How'd you do that?" he demanded, but there was no time to reply: Snape was coming down their table to observe the Gryffindors' results. Hermione and Neville turned in their notes first; Neville automatically received a "P" on his parchment, while Hermione managed to scrape by with an "A." Harry wanted to hit her: she looked as though she was going to cry over her A.

Now, Snape swooped down towards Ron and Harry's end of the table. Ron's paper had caught on fire slightly when his potion nearly exploded; what was left of his blackened notes received a big fat "D" scrawled on the top.

Now, Snape gazed into Harry's cauldron. Harry found it quite strange how the professor was pretending that they hadn't so much as glanced at each other since the previous year.

Snape did an excellent job of hiding his surprise at Harry's successful attempt at finishing the potion. Even Granger couldn't come close to this perfection, as much as he hated to admit it. Behind the Gryffindors, Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle were watching anxiously to see what terrible grade their favourite professor would give Potter today. Snape desperately wanted to fail him, but the potion was nearly flawless.

"Interesting," he muttered sourly, handing Harry his notes back with a tiny "E" scrawled down at the top. Harry stared at the paper in shock, then looked back up at Snape, who was smirking slightly.

"Of course, my expectations were already so low for you, Potter, that of course you'd be able to exceed them. Class dismissed," he snapped at the dumbstruck students around him. Snape rarely gave Gryffindors anything above an A…Harry Potter, especially…

Everyone got up and hurriedly exited the room. Snape was furiously stomping back to his desk; if he ever gave Potter a passing grade again he'd hang himself.

"Oof! Oy, sorry Harry," Neville apologized after tripping over the chair on his way out, scattering Harry's belongings everywhere.

"Its okay, Neville," Harry sighed as he waved Ron and Hermione to go on without him and stooped down to clean up the mess. Even Snape's snarky comments and Neville's clumsiness couldn't dampen the elated feeling in his chest that he had just successfully proven to Snape that he really could be good at Potions if he tried.

Too bad he hadn't learned any decent cleaning spells yet; instead, Harry was forced to get on his hands and knees and scrub up the spilled mess manually. However, after a minute of intense scouring, it appeared as though he wouldn't be able to do this alone, so he pulled out his wand. Something else came with it and fluttered to the ground, but Harry ignored it.

Next to him, Neville was still cleaning up his own spot, in fear that Professor Snape would dock points if he left it as it was.

Just as Harry scooted forward to grab his fallen potions book, something crumbled underneath his foot. It was a piece of paper that he had accidentally seized when he pulled out his wand. He already knew what was written on it, and there was no point in obsessing even more over whose writing it was. Sighing to himself, he threw it onto the table and finished the task that lay before him.

"Potter! Longbottom! Out," Snape snapped at them, having not realized they were still in there until now.

"So how was your summer, Harry?" Neville asked as they began walking out of the classroom together.

Harry fumbled with a few papers, trying to think of a way to accurately describe his summer. It had been a strange one, to say the least. Two of the papers fluttered to the ground once they were out of the dungeons; groaning in frustration, Harry knelt down to pick them up.

"Harry?" Neville prodded him further, but Harry wasn't listening. In his hands were two papers: the note with only his name inscribed onto it and his Potions notes with the E shining proudly at the top. For several seconds, Harry looked back and forth at the two papers, then silently dropped them in disbelief.

Impossible…not in a million years, thought Harry feverishly, though the similarities were unmistakable. The "E" in POTTER matched the same "E" on his Potions notes. Same semi-grey ink colour…same texture…same size…they were undoubtedly from the same person.

"You alright, Harry?" Neville asked him nervously. Harry blinked several times down at the two papers— even comparing them on top of each other— before coming back to his senses.

Maybe you're not such a mean old git after all, Harry thought as he stood up and glanced back at Snape, who was now striding out of his classroom and passed the two boys as though they weren't even there.

Staring after his professor, Harry shook his head in puzzlement and smiled at Neville.

"My summer…wasn't too bad, actually."

Long Author's Note (please read, it's important I promise):

Why I ended it here: In case you don't know, the story is complete now. I never really intended it to be more than a one-shot, but I decided that if I went on with it, I'd only write a couple more chapters. Long stories tend to grow old after a while, and I didn't want this story to lose interest once they got back to Hogwarts (where it would mostly follow canon and there would be less of a focus on the two main characters of this fic).

Mistakes in AUR: I acknowledge the fact that I made a lot of mistakes with this story, but hey: I'm human too. We all make mistakes (ie: does "Nineteen Years Later..." ring a bell?). My only goal for writing fanfiction is to become a better writer first; offer an entertaining read for other people second. I've learned so much from the reviewers this story (I've never really received proper constructive criticism before), and sorry to sound sappy, but I believe that to succeed, you need to fail first.

Why Harry got the broom: You might say Harry was acting too bratty to really deserve the broom, but in reality, that character slip was a mistake on my part. I actually went back and re-wrote several parts of the story (cleaned up OOCness mostly), and I intended for Harry to get a new broom ever since chapter two. Snape didn't buy it out of kind-hearted generosity, per se, but rather because he didn't have much else to do with the money. What would he do with hundreds of Galleons? Invest it in his wizard's 401K plan? Buy top-of-the-line shampoo and conditioner? Give his rarely-inhabited home an extreme makeover? Donate it all to charity? Going under the assumption that his classroom equipment and materials are paid for by the school, he really doesn't have much use for the money anyways, so he bought a broom. Though he certainly intended for it to remain a mystery (much like hiding his worst memory from Harry in the Pensieve during Occlumency lessons); but that didn't really work out, did it? Also, added with Dumbledore's subtle manipulating ("Use it wisely" could hardly mean "Spend it on yourself"), Snape pretty much had no choice.

Last note: Thank you to everyone who read and/or reviewed this story. I had fun writing it (my first HarryxSnape guardianship fic), and I hope you all enjoyed it for the most part. I have a companion story idea (not exactly a "sequel"), called "Snape's Worst Summer." It is what AUR would have looked like if I had decided to re-write it, though this one will be set in Harry's third year this time around. However, I'm going to write my first HG/SS fic ("Saving Severus") and once that is completed, I'll start SWS (late June or early July is my guess...sorry about the wait, though it might be earlier depending on how long Saving Severus will be).

Again, I learned a lot about writing HP fanfiction from this story alone, and if you have any last thoughts, words of advice, constructive criticism, or even praise...I'd really appreciate it. Thanks again for reading :)