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-I-I-I-

"And just what the hell does that mean?" Trinity demanded, scowling at the other woman.

Instead of answering immediately, the Oracle studied Harry thoughtfully, searching for something in his eyes that none of them could guess the identity of. "For as long as the Matrix has existed," she began slowly, "there have been those who cannot be completely contained by its rules. They were... different. They could do things within the code that its designers had never even imagined. They disrupted plans, caused an incredible amount of trouble..."

"Wizards," Neo murmured, making the connection, and the Oracle nodded.

"At first, the machines simply killed those who were different. You'd probably know that better as the Salem witch hunts and their ilk," she added dryly. "Though they were far more prevalent than you ever knew. But no matter what they did, more kept being born into the population. Finally, after many years, they conceded defeat, and turned to alternative means of keeping 'magic'-users under control."

"The wizarding world, yes, but what does all this have to do with my son being the Boy-Who-Whatsis?" Trinity interrupted, crossing her arms as she leaned back against the wall. The posture didn't look aggressive, but Neo knew she only used it to get her hands nearer to her shoulder holsters.

The Oracle raised a censorious, grandmotherly eyebrow. "I'm getting to that, dear."

Instead of flushing, Trinity scowled at her, and the program sighed. "Magic-users had already isolated themselves from the normal population in self-defense. The machines did their best to keep it that way, and inserted their own method of population control. Every thirty years or so, they engineer the rise of a 'Dark Lord', a wizard who has, for lack of a better term, gone over to the dark side and decided he wants to rule the world. The resulting war kills off enough of them that the wizarding world spends the next couple of decades rebuilding, instead of advancing.

"About ten years ago, the Dark Lord of the time was a wizard who called himself Voldemort. Your birth parents were among those fighting against him," she told Harry, who had gone very still. "As far as I can tell, they made enough of a nuisance of themselves that Voldemort turned his attention to them personally. He came to their house when you were only a year old and killed them."

Trinity drew in a breath, about to interrupt as she saw her son's pale face, but the Oracle hadn't finished. "Then he tried to kill you, as well. Something went wrong, and it backfired. Voldemort vanished, so completely not even my search algorithms could locate him, and you were left with only a scar." Again, the Oracle reached out to the boy, this time to trace her fingertips over his lightning-bolt scar.

"Why?" Morpheus asked. There was something strange in his dark eyes, steady as they were on the program. Something wary, as though he didn't want to know the answer, Neo thought as the Oracle's lips quirked in a wry smile.

"I don't know. No one does, not even the machines. It was completely unplanned." She looked at Harry again. "That's why you're famous in the wizarding community, hon, and why they call you the Boy-Who-Lived. It's also why the machines tried to keep an eye on you, in case you ever developed into a threat. It threw a wrench into a whole lot of their plans when you disappeared on them, you know."

The Oracle glanced at his family. "They don't realize he's unplugged, not yet," she reassured them. "Magic-users are hard to trace even when they're in the system, and he's the first to ever have been freed, you see. The machines don't even think it can be done to a wizard without leaving him a permanent vegetable."

Neo winced. If they'd known the risks they were taking... Well, the additional risks. Some people never woke up after being unplugged anyway.

"I assume the reason you're asking about this now is that you encountered something from the wizarding world?" the Oracle inquired evenly.

"A wizard saved me from some Agents," Harry told her. "He recognized me and told me about what I was."

"Shouldn't you already know this?" Morpheus asked, frowning. Neo understood why. He himself had never put much stock in the Oracle, but his captain believed wholeheartedly in her infallibility.

She smiled thinly in response. "The wizarding world is technically out of my jurisdiction, I'm afraid. It has its own Oracle."

-I-I-I-

It was a warm and muggy night, even up on the rooftop Severus had chosen as a rendezvous. A soft breeze ruffled his robes as it swirled past, bringing with it the smells of the city: oil and ozone, and concrete and asphalt cooling down from the day's heat. Wrinkling his nose in distaste, the Slytherin stepped back from the edge of the roof and took shelter from the gentle wind in the lee of the tiny building that provided roof access.

They'd never specified a time. Severus had spent quite a few minutes cursing when he realized that, and then informed the Headmaster he would be away tracking down a rare and elusive ingredient for all of Saturday, and possibly into the next morning as well. He'd been waiting on the rooftop since sundown, and was growing steadily more impatient by the hour.

It was nearing eight o'clock, according to his pocket watch, before he heard footsteps crunching on the gravel. He turned, keeping his back to the wall, and watched in disbelief as the large black man walked towards him. How the hell had he gotten up there? He hadn't come out through the roof access...

"Mr. Snape," Morpheus said evenly as he stopped a short distance away.

Severus nodded in return, his face carefully blank. "I take it my story was verified."

"Yes." The man's face was carefully blank. "Our contact also explained a bit of history to us, as well."

Severus glanced around for any of the others from before. "I see. And have you given any more thought to Potter's schooling?"

"That isn't up to us, unfortunately," Morpheus stated. "I can promise we'll bring it up with those whose choice it is, but beyond that I can offer no guarantees."

"I see," Severus murmured again, pushing back the snarl of irritation that threatened to break across his face. Were they soft in the head? Potter was powerful enough to survive the Killing Curse itself; if he were left untrained...

The impending catastrophes boggled the mind.

"Do you, by any chance, have an idea of just when you will have an answer for me?" he inquired, his voice sharp.

There was a glint of dry humor in the muggle's eyes. "That rather depends on how contrary they feel like being. Perhaps... a week?"

Severus wasn't happy about it, but he nodded nevertheless. The first steps were always the hardest, after all. "I'll hold you to that."

Morpheus nodded. "Please," he said, leaning back against the wall. "Tell me about this schooling of yours."

The professor used a moment to gather his thoughts. "There are three major schools of magic in Europe. There are some American schools as well, of course, but none with the same... pedigree. Those in Europe are the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, in Scotland; the Beauxbatons Academy of Magic, in France; and the Durmstrang Institute, in Finland."

Morpheus was listening carefully, though what he thought of the information couldn't be divined from his expressionless features. "Is there a particular school you recommend?"

"Hogwarts is the oldest and most well-established school. I also happen to teach Potions there," Severus answered.

"Potions?"

"I teach- or at least, try to teach," he corrected with a grimace, "students to mix ingredients together in particular fashions to create substances with certain effects. These can be anything from curing a cold to turning one person into another."

Morpheus frowned. "And what other subjects are there?"

Severus almost sighed. This was going to take a while. Instead of answering, he turned and pulled out his wand to transfigure chairs out of two pebbles. "Transfiguration is another subject, taught by our Deputy Headmistress, Minerva McGonagall," he explained to the startled muggle, taking a seat and waving him to the other. "There's also Charms, which is what muggles tend to think of first when magic is brought up."

"Muggles are people like me? Who have no magic?" Morpheus asked.

The Slytherin nodded. "Precisely." He paused for a second to regain his train of thought. "The other required subjects for first years are the History of Magic, Herbology, and Defense Against the Dark Arts."

The muggle frowned again. "No mathematics? No languages? What about physical activities?"

"Each house at Hogwarts has a Quidditch team that competes with the other houses. Hogwarts divides its students into four houses, based on personality," Severus added at the other man's questioning look. "Do you have any other questions?"

Morpheus was silent for a long moment. "If it is decided that Harry should attend this school of yours, or any school," he said slowly, "there are certain... difficulties that will have to be worked around, if that is possible at all. We would likely require your assistance."

Severus felt his face go blank. Trying to convince Potter's guardians to send him to Hogwarts was one thing, as was preventing the death of a child. Actively helping the son of the man he held nothing but bitter memories of... His head knew the boy wasn't James Potter. From what little he'd seen of the young wizard, their personalities were nearly opposites. But his gut still saw that face, that mess of hair, and screamed it was his archrival back from the grave.

It was childish, really it was. That didn't mean Severus could stop feeling that way at the drop of a hat, and there was a part of him that didn't really want to stop.

Of course, there was that other part, the one with Albus's voice that contended that anything and everything that enabled the Boy-Who-Lived to attend Hogwarts was not only worth his effort, but an obligation on his part. Not to mention, there was that damn Wizard's Debt he owed Potter Sr...

Helping Potter didn't mean liking the boy, or even having to spend time with him. He controlled his instinctive grimace, as it wouldn't do to let the muggle see just how much what he was about to say pained him.

"Very well," Severus told the intent man. "Should my aid be required, if it is within my power I will give it."

He nearly cried out, then, as he felt an unexpected tug at his magic. What the... Oh, damn it all to hell. His magic had taken his statement as a formal oath.

Severus Snape was now bound to help Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived-And-Went-Missing, whether he liked it or not...

-I-I-I-

Author's Note: This is the end of what had already been written. Future chapters will be posted as they're finished.