Harry felt weak and shaky, as though he�d just recovered from a nasty bout of flu.� Fred and George�s finding out about Professor Snape being his father had been something of a nightmare.� Pulling himself together, he tried to focus on Quidittch Through the Ages.� Ron and Hermione would probably be coming in to visit him at any moment; he couldn�t afford to let them think anything but being sick had affected him.

Finally deciding that he simply couldn�t sit still any longer, he was just about to find Madam Pomfrey to see if he couldn�t head back to the Gryffindor common room when he nearly walked head-on into the witch herself at the doorway.

�Mr. Potter, just where do you think you�re going?� You should be resting in bed!�

�I�m feeling much better, really, Madam Pomfrey.� Can�t I go back to my common room?� I promise I�ll take it easy,� Harry said.

The Hogwarts nurse regarded him doubtfully, reaching out to feel his forehead with the back of her hand.

�Your fever does seem to have gone down��

�Please?� asked Harry plaintively.� He hated staying in the Hospital Wing.� Madam Pomfrey was very nice, but she tended to be a bit overprotective of her patients.

�Oh, all right, I suppose so.� Off with you, then- but mind you don�t overexert yourself!� she said.� She turned and stalked off in a manner reminiscent of an offended cat, muttering to herself about patients not taking rest seriously enough.

Relieved, Harry made his way to Gryffindor Tower, stopping in front of the portrait of the Fat Lady.

�Password, please, my dear!� she trilled at him merrily.

�Arcana,� said Harry.

The Fat Lady peered at him more closely.�

�You should take a nap, dear, you look positively exhausted.�

Harry scowled as he pushed aside the portrait and stepped into the common room.

�I wish everyone would stop telling me that,� he growled to himself.

He was just about to head up the stairs to the boys� dorm when he heard someone call his name.

�Harry!�

It was Hermione.� She leapt up from her seat at the table where she had been studying.� Ron, who had been seated across from her, did the same a split second later.

�We tried to come and see you at the Hospital Wing, but Madam Pomfrey wouldn�t let us in-�

�Yeah, she said you weren�t being allowed any visitors till this evening-�

�And when you didn�t come back from your detention with Snape, we thought something might have happened-�

Harry�s heart pounded painfully in his chest.� Something certainly had happened, but he couldn�t tell Ron and Hermione about discovering that Snape was his father.� He forced himself to try and act normally.

�I told Hermione I wouldn�t put it past that greasy git to make you do a detention that could land you in the Hospital Wing,� said Ron.

�But you must be feeling better, or she wouldn�t have let you go early.� Right, Harry?� said Hermione.

�Er- right,� replied Harry.

�So what was the deal with Snape, eh?� asked Ron.

�Nothing,� said Harry quickly.� Ron looked doubtful.�

�It was just a typical Snape detention,� Harry elaborated.� �He made me clean dirty cauldrons without magic.� I hadn�t been feeling well all afternoon, and I guess the smell of the cauldrons just made it worse.� Anyway, it got to the point that I felt like I might throw up all over Snape�s shoes.� I told him as much, so he sent me to the Hospital Wing.� I dunno if he was pleased that I was sick or annoyed that I had to leave detention early.�

�Both, probably,� muttered Ron.

�Something else happened in the Hospital Wing, though,� Harry continued.� He filled them in on his vision of Voldemort and the Dementors, leaving out the fact that Snape had been there to witness it.

�Fudge is such a peabrain,� Ron said bitterly.� �Dumbledore told him months ago that this would happen if he didn�t get rid of the Dementors!� Now You-Know-Who�s going to be even more powerful.�

Unwillingly, Harry found himself recalling the aftermath of the third task of the Triwizard Tournament.� The tension between Fudge and Dumbledore had been almost tangible.� Fudge had rejected Dumbledore�s advice that Azkaban be removed from the control of the Dementors and that envoys be sent to the giants.� Harry had a feeling, however, that Hagrid and Madame Maxime�s mission for Dumbledore over the summer involved the latter.� Dumbledore had also asked Severus to do something, but Harry didn�t know what at the time.� Now, Harry realized that whatever the task was, it probably involved spying.

�Does Dumbledore know about this, Harry?� asked Hermione.

�Yes,� Harry replied.� He declined to add that it was his father who had told the Headmaster, not him.

�You will be extra-careful, won�t you?� the bushy-haired witch asked anxiously.� �Maybe you shouldn�t play Quidittch this year��

Ron stared at her in disbelief.

�He�s got to play Quidittch, Hermione!� He�s the best Seeker we�ve ever had!�

�Maybe Madam Hooch can supervise the team again,� Harry suggested diplomatically.� He didn�t want to resign from Quidittch, not if he could help it.�

�By the way, have either of you heard when tryouts are?� he asked Ron.

�This Friday,� Ron answered, a look of combined nervousness and excitement crossing his freckled face.� �You�ll be there, won�t you?�

That�s right, Ron�s trying out for Keeper, Harry thought with a twinge of guilt.� With everything that had happened to him in the past twenty-four hours, he had momentarily forgotten that Ron would be participating in the tryouts.� �Definitely,� said Harry.

*��������� *����������� *���������

Dinner that evening started off rather uneventfully.� Snape scowled at Harry, Ron, and Hermione in his usual dour manner as the three entered the Great Hall.� To Ron and Hermione, this was nothing unusual, but to Harry, it was a stark reminder of the charade that he and his father had to play.

���

At the Gryffindor table, Fred and George Weasley, Ron�s elder twin brothers, were busy showing off one of their latest inventions to their best friend, Lee Jordan.

�We�re calling it �Chameleon Spice,�� said Fred.

�Yeah, you sprinkle it onto any food like you would salt, and when you eat it, it makes your hair change colour,� explained George.

�Brilliant!� Lee proclaimed.� He sprinkled it onto his beef casserole, stirred it around on his plate, and took a bite.� Lee�s dredlocks promptly turned bright blue.

Upon seeing Lee�s hair, the rest of the Gryffindors roared with laughter.

�What colour is my hair?� demanded Lee.

Everyone was laughing and giggling too excitedly to answer him.

Harry had to regain control of himself before he could answer Lee properly, he was laughing so hard.

�Bright- bright blue!� he chortled.

It was a relief to laugh; it allowed Harry to momentarily forget the events of the past twenty-four hours and pretend, if just for a little while, that he was just like any other teenaged wizard, enjoying a practical joke with his friends.

Later that evening, as he was going over his missed work in the Common Room with Ron and Hermione (the latter of whom was very insistent that Harry not get behind), an owl appeared at the window, tapping its beak against the glass.

Ron opened the window to allow the owl to fly in.� Settling itself importantly on the back of a chair, it stuck its leg out to allow the youngest Weasley boy to remove the attached piece of parchment.

�It�s from Hagrid!�

Dear Harry, Ron, and Hermione, (the note read)

How�s about stopping by at five o�clock tomorrow for a cup of tea?� Let me know if you can make it.

-Hagrid

It would be nice to visit Hagrid; the trio hadn�t had a chance to catch up with him yet.� Harry scribbled an affirmative reply to send back with the owl, with Ron and Hermione�s enthusiastic approval.

Tiredness overcoming him, a yawn escaped Harry.� Hermione glanced at him critically.�

�You should go to bed, Harry, you look really tired,� she said.

Harry scowled.

�Everyone keeps telling me that.� But you�re right, I probably ought to get some sleep.�

Hermione studied him, a thoughtful look crossing her face.

�That�s funny.� When you frowned just now, you reminded me of someone for a moment.� I can�t think who, though.�

�You must be tired, too, �Mione,� said Ron.� �Harry�s Harry.� He�s always looked the same.�

�You�re probably right,� sighed the witch.� �Goodnight, then.�

If only you knew, thought Harry miserably.