18

"Harry, my boy, do come in."

The Sorting and feast had been interesting, to say the least. Mad Eye Moody had made a dramatic entrance, much to Harry's interest. The man knew how to make a first impression, but whether that impression was good or bad was yet to be seen. Either way, he was an ex-auror and so was bound to know the material, although Harry was sure that he had already learnt the entire fourth year course over the summer with Sirius.

Then there had been uproar when the headmaster had announced that the Triwizard tournament would be taking place at Hogwarts, and that Quidditch would be cancelled. Ron's eyes had lit up at the thought of the prize money, but then dulled down again as the age line was explained. Harry had rolled his eyes at the entire thing- eternal glory? Sounded bloody poncy, in his opinion. He'd take a good pub brawl over fighting for his life for money any day. It did, however, explain the mystery behind the dress robes that he'd been forced to buy, as there would be a ball at Christmas. He resolved then and there that he wouldn't wear them, and instead give them to Ron to replace his tatty old thing.

The evening had become even interesting when a third year Slytherin approached Harry as everyone headed off to bed. The girl had a message from Professor Snape, which Harry managed to decipher through the sneers and insults she was sending his way. He was to go to the headmaster's office straight away. Sighing, as he had been looking forward to getting into his bed, he changed directions and waved goodbye to his friends, taking a few secret passageways to Professor Dumbledore's office. The gargoyle opened before him and he ran up the stairs and knocked on the door, hoping that this wouldn't take long.

Inside, Harry took a seat and accepted the proffered lemon drop. He was about to ask why he was there when the door opened and Professor Snape walked in.

"Ah, Severus, please, take a seat," Dumbledore said with a smile, gesturing towards the other seat before his desk. The potions master sneered at Harry, glancing over his clothes in obvious disgust. Really, he thought, and they say that I don't wash. Harry's usually unkempt hair was even worse today, sticking out in all directions, and quite clearly in need of some good shampoo. He had still been too hung-over on the train (at least that was his excuse, really he was just too lazy) to change properly into his school uniform, and so he had just flung his robe around him, though it fell open at the front, revealing his torn clothes underneath. He knew that he looked a state, of course, but he was simply too tired to care.

"Now, Harry. I am sure you are wondering why you are here. I actually wanted to talk to you about quite a few things," Harry groaned inwardly- this would be taking a while then, "The most important of which is the Occlumency lessons that we discussed during the summer. Professor Snape has consented to teach you."

"But we hate each other," Harry said bluntly, causing Snape to snort in agreement. Obviously, he was no happier with the plan than Harry was.

"Even still," the headmaster said, his eyes twinkling with amusement, "Perhaps you will be able to find some common ground." Harry frowned; he hated the Professor's habit of speaking in riddles. Snape was scowling as well, making it clear that he thought the likelihood of him and Harry finding any sort of common ground absolutely ridiculous.

"Fine," Harry sighed, fishing out a cigarette from his jeans pockets, and fumbling with his wand to light the end of it, "when are they?" He took a drag before turning and exhaling smoke into Snape's face, smirking when the Potions Master coughed slightly.

"Every Friday evening," the older man drawled, ignoring Harry's attempts to rile him up, "And you will tell anybody who cares enough to ask that you have remedial potions. Those who have seen your performance in my classroom could hardly deny that you are in dire need of them." An evil smirk settled on his face, which Harry took as a challenge.

"Like fuck I will," he snapped, taking another drag before calming down significantly, "I'll just say I have detention. I'll say you gave it to me for breathing, I'm sure no-one will find that particularly out of character."

"You insolent little-" Snape's face had turned white, hardly able to believe that a student, even Potter, could be so rude.

"How's Bill, by the way?" Harry asked, grinning, "I hear you and he know each other quite well." The mortified Professor turned even whiter before his face became beetroot red. He opened and closed his mouth a few times, unable to form words that fully expressed his rage. Seeing his opportunity, Harry turned back to the Headmaster, letting Snape stew in his anger for a while.

"So, what else was on the agenda then?" Dumbledore conjured an ashtray which he put pointedly in front of Harry before he spoke.

"I'm afraid there have been some complaints about Sirius's parenting methods." There was no trace of humour in his tone, and his expression was grave. At that moment, with the possibility of having to tear the boy in front of him away from his family again weighing heavy on his mind, the old wizard looked every single one of his years.

"Oh for fuck's sake, not this again," Harry rubbed a hand over his eyes; he wasn't in the mood for this today.

"Again?"

"Yeah. After the Quidditch cup, after the fight and everything, Mr Weasley had a... ahem... discussion with Sirius about his concerns about the influence Pads was having on me. He seemed to think that I had been corrupted, that I had become some sort of delinquent or something." He was fighting hard to keep his annoyance out of his voice. It was so unfair, he thought. All that had changed was his confidence, his ability to fight back against all the people trying to kill him and his clothes. And yet Mr Weasley, who Harry had always looked up to and respected, had decided that this meant that he was no longer the Harry he knew. It was ridiculous.

"And here I was under the impression that you had always been a delinquent, Potter," Snape intoned. He had recovered from his shock, and decided to ignore that Harry knew about him and Bill, in the hope that the problem would go away. The Headmaster sent him a warning look before turning back to Harry.

"Well, my boy, it is clear to see that you have changed somewhat. Although I am sure that you are still the same Harry Potter I met three years ago," Dumbledore's twinkling eyes immediately put Harry at ease again. He wouldn't be taken from Sirius. Although how had he known that Harry was worried about being seen as a different person. Sometimes he could swear that the Headmaster could read minds.

"Oh! I just remembered," Harry began, stubbing his cigarette out in the ash tray, "I was wondering if there was a space I could practise my defence out of class, you know, to keep in shape and all that." To his dismay, Dumbledore frowned. It was Snape who spoke first, however.

"And why would you need to practise at all? You are hardly going to be fighting anyone anytime soon," he snapped bitterly.

"Oh, sorry," Harry bit back, "I didn't realise all the death eaters were going to drop dead of their own accord. And I suppose Tommy boy will stay a spirit forever, will he? Fucking hell, we're talking about the people who killed my parents! Who killed Ron's Uncles, drove Neville's parents to madness and left Sirius to rot in prison for thirteen years! The people who suckered kids like you, and like Regulus, into joining, only for you to find out that you'd just signed up to ruin your life. You can't really expect me not to bloody fight them, can you? Even if it wasn't for the fucking prophesy I'd still want to be out there, stopping the bastards from screwing up any more lives!" Harry was shouting by the end, gesturing wildly with his hands, unaware of the true reason for the shock on his teacher's faces.

"Please, sit," Dumbledore said, making Harry realise that he had jumped to his feet sometime during his rant. Slightly sheepishly, he retook his seat, glaring sullenly at the wall.

"How do you know all of this?" The Headmaster asked gently, the customary twinkle gone from his eyes. Harry looked at him, confused. Of all the questions he had expected, that wasn't one of them

"Sirius, of course," he said, wondering why this was so important, "he told me anything I wanted to know. Said I was old enough now to know the truth and to do what I thought was right with it." He couldn't stop a hint of pride showing in his voice as he said the last; Sirius was the first person in his life to have trusted him like that.

"I see," was all the answer he got for a minute before Dumbledore spoke again, "I will think about an appropriate space and let you know soon." Harry nodded, and, assuming that the conversation was over, stood to leave.

"Goodnight, professors," he said heading to the door.

"Oh, and Harry?" the Headmaster called as Harry was leaving, "Please try to tone down the swearing if you can. And I'm afraid that it's against school rules to smoke inside the castle."

Harry groaned as he made his way down the spiral staircase. It was going to be a long year.