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Two days later, this time that should have been for celebrating had offered nothing to cheer about. Minerva and Molly had slept very little, between being interviewed extensively by Ministry officials about the attack and defending the decisions they had made.

Zelda's case was settled first. She was kept unconscious at St. Mungo's while they decided her fate. Despite the arguments of the Headmistress, Kingsley Shacklebolt and Arthur Weasley, the Ministry used a spell to create a normal summer memory out of her previous life. Minerva was given charge of her once the spell was accomplished.

She used a Portkey to bring the sleeping woman to Hogwarts, where Harry waited in her office. Since Zelda's house was still under Severus's protective spells, Harry and Ron would bring Zelda home.

Harry was pacing furiously when they arrived. "How could they do this to her?" he snarled bitterly. "She helped us so much, Professor."

Minerva sighed. "Albus never trusted politicians. I confess that I despise them completely after seeing this debacle."

"She won't remember us," he said grimly. "Isn't there something we can do to change things?"

"I have wondered, Potter..." she replied heavily, "if it is kinder to let her forget, since Severus is imprisoned. To know his fate would grieve her so."

"But we'll get him out!" he said passionately. "They've never believed me at the Ministry, but why won't they believe you or the Weasleys?"

"Or Kingsley, or Miss Tonks," she said, allowing her frustration to be seen. "Well, we shall keep trying, but Zelda must go home now."

"I hate that we can't see her again," he said, finally letting go of his anger and allowing his sadness to be seen.

"Harry," Professor Dumbledore's voice came from the wall. "Do not give up hope. I believe there is a way, but you must find it."

"I'm tired of being the one who has to do /everything/!" he snapped bitterly, stomping over to glare at the portrait.

"How did you defeat Voldemort?" asked Dumbledore mildly.

"I didn't!" said Harry. But then he realized what that meant and looked back at Professor McGonagall. "Do you think...?"

"I hope so," she replied. "You will not give up and I shall not either," she said. "Where is Mr. Weasley? It is time."

"He's visiting his mum's classroom," said Harry, suddenly feeling a faint burst of hope. "Maybe if we all work on it..." He pointed his wand and sent his Patronus off with a flash of light. "I really love to do that," he confessed mischievously.

The Headmistress smiled. "You and your friends know more of magic than most in our world. Please use it wisely, Potter."

Ron entered the office. "I wonder if I'll be bored when I go back to being a student," he said wistfully. "Say, Professor, my Mum, Hermione and I are planning to meet Michael tomorrow night, to see what more we can do. Will you come?"

"Of course," she said. "I'm preparing to open the school, but I'll do whatever I can to help our friends."

Harry and Ron went to stand by Zelda's sleeping form. All had been prepared at her house, so they each took one of her hands, reached for the Portkey and disappeared.

It took almost no time. It was early afternoon and previously they had gone with Michael to get everything in order. So they tucked her under a blanket on the couch took a last look around. Then Harry awkwardly bent down and kissed her cheek. "I'll see you later, Zelda," he whispered. Grimly he stood up and nodded to Ron, and then they left.


&&&&&&&&&


Severus Snape was in Azkaban. Dementors no longer guarded the wizard prison, but it was irrelevant. Nothing mattered. He was housed in a small windowless cell, in almost complete darkness, completely isolated. Days and nights meant nothing. He slept a great deal, tormented by nightmares, and when meals appeared, he ate little. Aurors and Ministry officials came to interrogate him during the first days, but they did not actually resort to torture, so he withdrew deep within himself and ignored them. Eventually he was left alone.


&&&&&&&&&


Harry Potter and his friends had imagined Azkaban prison, but the reality was much worse. It had taken pressure from every powerful adult that he knew, as well as publicity from his exclusive interview on the death of Voldemort, in /The Quibbler/, before he gained permission from The Minister of Magic to see Professor Snape. He felt nauseated when he set foot on that grim, rocky island, but walked on resolutely by Arthur Weasley's side.

At a guard desk he was asked to hand over his wand, and he did it without questioning. He had been warned by many to walk cautiously during this visit.

"Are you sure you don't want me to come along?" asked Arthur, looking worried.

"I'll be fine," replied Harry. "See you when I get back, Mr. Weasley.

He followed a coarse-faced guard through evil-smelling, dank corridors lit only by a few sputtering torches. He knew that outside it was late afternoon on a sunny day, but there was no way to tell down here. They arrived at a solid iron door. The guard inserted a large key in the lock and said, "Yeh got an hour. If yeh wan' out early, pound on the door and maybe I'll hear it."

The door shrieked painfully as it opened and the guard handed a torch to him and gestured him into the cell.

When Harry stepped inside, he wondered if there was a mistake. Nothing moved. It took a minute for his eyes to adjust to the dimness. "Professor Snape?" he asked hesitantly.

"Potter," whispered a hoarse voice. "Go away."

Harry located the wizard. He sat on the only raised surface in the cell, a stone bench, unmoving as a statue. Harry thrust the torch into a niche on the wall and went to kneel before his former enemy. As his eyes adjusted he was horrified by Snape's condition. He looked like Sirius had, gaunt and filthy. The mangy black cloak was ragged and torn. Worst, his eyes were sunk deep into his head and radiated a death stare.

"Sir, I've been trying to get in here since they brought you here. We're going to get you out of here," he burst out.

"Leave, Potter," Snape rasped. His eyes needed to adjust to the light and they burned painfully. "I am content."

Harry stood up and paced the few steps he could take in the tiny cell. "No! This matters too much. You matter," he burst out passionately. "Why aren't you fighting?"

The wretched boy's energy was making his head pound. He was incapable mustering hope for a future. The fact that he had helped Potter to defeat Voldemort was all that mattered, so he must be content. His job was finished. Too late, he realized that the boy was Legilimencing him, and in spite of himself he looked back coldly, offended.

"Do you know what day it is?" Harry asked, pleased at having roused some emotion.

"Time is irrelevant here," the deep voice croaked coldly.

"It's Monday, September second. Classes started today," said Harry.

"One might wonder then, why the Head Boy is infesting my prison cell instead of strutting around Hogwarts," came the weak, but acid reply.

Harry smiled. He was intensely grateful for those splendidly nasty words. "/I don't strut, nor am I Head Boy/," he replied acidly. "I recall hearing that the Head Boy should be someone who can stay out of trouble."

In spite of himself, Snape felt a spark of energy ignite deep inside. He loathed Harry Potter and always had, and the boy loathed him in return even more. How ironic that the pestilent boy would arrive to harass him in prison. "Ah, Potter... let it be," he said.

"No! I won't. What about Zelda?" he asked nervously. "She needs you." There was such a long silence that Harry wondered if he'd been forgotten.

"Moody kindly informed me that he Obliviated her, so she no longer needs me," he muttered expressionlessly. "If she ever did."

"Ron and I brought her home, so I know she was Obliviated," said Harry. "But she won't be happy without you." He stared intently into the empty black eyes. "If you can convince yourself she's okay like this, then you're acting like an idiot... /Sir/."

Snape's eyes flashed at that, but Harry kept talking relentlessly.

"Maybe you don't dare to hope for anything good, Professor, but we're going to get you out of here. Somehow we're going to undo that Memory Charm and if you're not there when we do it, Zelda's going to kill us all."

Harry gazed beseechingly at him, but had no more words to offer. Silence stretched out between them for long minutes.

Snape muttered haltingly, "Potter... what happened that day? I was told nothing. Is Shacklebolt all right? Miss Granger? What of Hagrid?"

Harry stood up slowly, stiff from kneeling on the stone floor. He gestured to the empty space next to Snape on the bench. "May I sit down?" he asked, sitting without waiting for a reply.

He studied the black haired wizard closely. His hair was greasier than ever and the hooked nose jutted out from the bones of his face shockingly. "You look dreadful Sir. Please stay alive until we can get you out."

Snape snorted wearily. "Just tell me what happened, Potter."

So for the rest of the hour, Harry told him everything, finally describing Zelda's sad return to her home. When the door opened, flooding the cell with more light than Snape had seen in weeks, they were both startled.

"Time's up, and the prisoner's food is here," growled the guard.

Harry rose and said, "I'll be back, Sir. Now eat something, please."

Snape's eyebrow rose cynically as he eyed the small tray. A rough looking bowl containing something gray and mushy gave off a slightly sour smell, and a chunk of coarse bread was the only other source of calories. There was a jug of water and a battered spoon.

Harry was revolted. This wizard who'd worked tirelessly for half his life to save their bloody world was being slowly starved to death in this filthy hole. His fists clenched and his green eyes flashed furiously. "I'll be back /tomorrow/, Sir."

When Snape's breath hissed out irritably, Harry gave him a cheeky grin and said mockingly, "You'll be sorry you ever saved my life, you know."

"What the devil are you going to do?" asked Snape with a faint gleam of curiosity.

"I think Hermione needs a new crusade," said Harry. "Ta, Professor!"


&&&&&&&&&


Zelda Larsson began the new school year as organized as ever, but something felt out of kilter to her. Her life was as quiet as ever, something she should feel grateful for, but she felt... depressed, or maybe lonely. When the phone rang on the first Saturday after school started, she jumped eagerly to pick it up.

"Hey, Zelda!" Michael's voice rang out cheerfully in her ear. "How's it going?"

"Fine," she replied. "Michael, are you still out of town?"

"Uh huh," he replied vaguely. "Listen, I've been asked to oversee a couple of projects here, so I'll be gone for a couple of months. I know Jess is taking good care of the house and the girls, but will you check on her once in a while?"

"Of course," she replied firmly. "I'll stop by tomorrow. Is that all you called about?"

"Well... I guess I'm feeling a twinge of guilt for foisting a dog on you," he said impudently. "Have you forgiven me yet?"

"I still can't believe you did it, or that I let you do it," she said slowly. "She's a wonderful dog, though, and I'm crazy about her. It's nice to have someone to come home to."

"In fact, you're thanking me for my thoughtful gesture!" he said gleefully. "Seriously, thanks for taking her. Rowena's too great a dog to end up in the pound."

"Absolutely," she said. "She'll always have a home with me."

"Well, I gotta go, babe. I'll call again and see how you're doing," he said. "Bye."

She looked at the receiver in her hand thoughtfully, and then hung up the phone. She shook her head irritably and then went off to start her weekend chores.


&&&&&&&&&


Minerva McGonagall sat down at her desk. The opening of school had gone quite well, and the first day of classes was amazingly uneventful. She smiled at Molly Weasley.

"Well, Professor Weasley?" she asked ironically.

"It went amazingly well, Minerva," replied Molly. "I'm not stupid enough to think I won't make mistakes, but the students are lovely. The first years are such a pleasure to me after dealing with bloody teenagers. I think I'm going to love teaching."

"I'm delighted to hear it," replied Minerva. "On a more serious note, have you seen Potter since his visit to Azkaban?"

Molly smiled and shook her head in disbelief. "I haven't seen Harry, but Ron and Hermione came to see me after dinner. They're all on quite a tear, aren't they?"

"Severus would... will be beside himself when he learns what a storm those three are stirring up," said Minerva. "It pleases me that all of them are disgusted with the Ministry at this moment. I must say, the way the interview in The Quibbler last week was crafted, protecting Michael and Zelda even as they exposed Moody's lunacy, was masterful. I believe I should like to see Miss Granger as Minister of Magic someday."

Molly chuckled. "That would certainly shake up the fools there." Her face clouded over. "But Minerva, about what Harry said? After all Severus has gone through, to be abused in that place, it's horrible!"

"On Miss Granger's instructions, Harry asked me to arrange for him to meet with Tiberius Ogden and Griselda Marchbanks, so he will go tomorrow afternoon to the Ministry of Magic. Watching Harry Potter attempt to pull political strings on behalf of Severus is quite delicious."

"Good for Harry," replied Molly. "Arthur will do whatever he can to help him. But has Harry told you yet that he plans to return to Azkaban tomorrow morning?"

Minerva stared curiously. "Why?"

Molly chuckled wickedly. "He Owled Rufus Scrimgeour and told him that if he's not allowed to provide Severus with some decent food and see his conditions improved, he'll contact Rita Skeeter and expose more of the Ministry's incompetence. He requested a reply, with an immediate resolution and now he's down in the kitchen with Ron, directing the House Elves what food they should pack."

Minerva's stern features dissolved into laughter. "Oh, Molly," she gasped joyfully. "I would give anything to see Severus's face when he realizes that he's their latest project!"


&&&&&&&&&


The next morning, Harry was at the gates of Azkaban at dawn. He handed a scroll, signed by the Minister of Magic, to the warden and waited. It was a short wait however. In no time he was back at the iron door, being ushered inside the cell.

Nothing had changed. Professor Snape was seated again where he had been before.

"Good morning, sir," said Harry softly, studying the wizard worriedly. "Are you ready to go?"

"I was told I shall be here until I am tried, or until I die, Potter," he muttered apathetically.

"Well, you'll be in Azkaban until your trial, which is tentatively set for October second. But not in this cell," Harry said patiently. "The Ministry has decreed there'll be a few changes." He held his hand out hopefully and Snape reluctantly allowed himself to be dragged to his feet and led down the narrow corridor.

The new cell was an oasis of delight, compared with the old one. There was an actual bed with a mattress, narrow but adequate, a small table and chair, and most amazingly, a window. Snape's eyes were drawn to it, having forgotten, during his weeks in virtual darkness, what the sky looked like. He was blinded at first and needed to cover his eyes. The cell door closed and Harry busied himself at the table.

"Breakfast, Sir," he said cheerfully, setting down a plate of warm eggs, sausages and rolls.

There was an aroma of hot tea as he approached the table and collapsed weakly into the chair. His thin fingers curled around the warm cup and he drank thirstily. Then he shuddered uncontrollably and drank some more. The first bite of sausage was heavenly.

"Eat now, Sir. I'll be going soon so I can make my morning classes." Harry put a small trunk on the floor next to the table. "If you need anything, you can Owl us and we'll try to get it for you. The Warden knows that you're to be allowed to write to anyone you want."

He opened the trunk to reveal a large stock of parchment, along with some quills and ink. Underneath were several books.

"What are the books for?" asked Snape suspiciously.

"We thought... Ron and Hermione and me, that you'd get awfully bored in here. In case you need something to do, we thought maybe you'd like to write a new Advanced Potions textbook. The other one stinks, you know."

"I am aware... yes," Snape replied coldly. "Merlin's arse, Potter, is it too much to be allowed to simply die alone in my wretched prison cell?" he snarled.

Harry smiled wickedly, mischief gleaming in his green eyes. "I'll be off then. Bye, Professor!" He pounded on the cell door for the jailer and the door immediately opened.

"Potter, wait," Snape said. "Er - thank you." His black eyes stared intently at the young wizard.

Harry waved quickly and was gone.