Number twelve, Grimmauld Place, middle of July. Harry looked around him with satisfaction. The once horrid place – that he had still preferred to the Dursleys’ home – was now feeling cosy and really deserved the word of ‘home’. Every room, to the last floor, had been cleaned thoroughly and redecorated, some with his friends in thought: a room for Ron could only contain posters of the Chuddley Cannons, a room for Hermione would be quiet and filled with bookshelves. He had prepared rooms for the whole Weasley family and several members of the Order of the Phoenix who could eventually spend the night here. Like Remus.

Dobby had come to help, if only for removing the spells Kreacher had put on Mrs. Black’s painting. Before taking it down from the wall and burning it, Harry had cast a Silencio spell on her and had told her everything he thought about her. She had been furious, but unable to answer. Harry had been careful to burn her portrait in front of a painting of Sirius, so that she could see her son until her last moment. He had taken away the silencing spell when the portrait was half-burnt and had listened to her heaping abuse on him and Sirius; he had not even flinched when her harsh words had turned into cries of pain and moans of agony.

Instead of her portrait, he had hung several, smaller, portraits of his friends – the Weasley family and Hermione among them – along with Sirius and Remus and a picture of his parents. They were all waving merrily to whomever crossed the threshold and more than anything, Harry felt that this was really his home. How could it not be when he was welcomed by the people he cherished the most? Regularly, at odd hours in the day, he would wander back to the hallway, looking at the portraits. Then he would smile, before going back to whatever he had been doing.

Dobby, of course, had wanted to help him clean the house and he knew that Ron and Hermione would have helped also, but he had refused any help. The reason why he had been working like crazy since the end of term was that he wanted to forget that a part of his life was over. He knew what he wanted to do: he wanted to be an Auror. But except that, he knew nothing of the big world he was going to step into. It was worse than when he had learnt he was a wizard: the shock had been such and the things had happened so quickly that he hadn’t had the time to wonder and panic. He was used to Hermione being always with him, reminding him of his homework, but Hermione wouldn’t be with him this coming year. As for Ron, he didn’t know; being an Auror interested him, as well as becoming a professional Quidditch player. Then he had thought of joining his brothers’ joke shop. There was also the fact that his father had told him about a position of strategist at the Ministry and his eyes had shone like stars: strategy was like Wizard Chess.

So Harry had worked himself to exhaustion, trying to forget that he didn’t know where he was going. He had finally managed to get rid of the damp and the rotting smell invading the house. He had restored all the paintings, taking away years of grime, even though he had received several degrading comments. To those who had insulted him he had retold thoroughly the fate of Mrs. Black’s portrait and that had silenced even the most vehement of them. Phineas Nigellus nodded approvingly and sniggered when receiving dark glances.

The shabby black paint of the entrance door was now clean and neat, even though one could notice several brush marks. The silver doorknocker was shiny, though still looking like a twisted serpent. All the windows were clean and the walls all wore a fresh coat of paint. The chandelier, the candelabra and the gas lamps were shining also, newly polished. He had left the serpents, even though he would have preferred to see the lion of Gryffindor rather than the Slytherin snake. He had done most of the work by hand, working like a Muggle, being as black as the door by the time he had finished giving it a coat of paint, but now he could wander in the house, looking proudly at his handiwork.

He heard a knock at the door, reverberating through the house, and he hurried into the hallway. Laughing at a joke – probably Blaise’s – Hermione, Ron and the young Slytherin stepped in and immediately stopped to admire the new decoration.

“I told them!” said Hermione, smiling widely. “I saw that the windows were clean and that they all had new curtains! Of course, they didn’t notice anything, until their nose was against the door. Hello, Harry! You did a wonderful job!”

“Thank you, Hermione,” he replied, his head already spinning from her quick sentences. “Hello, Ron, Blaise. Where are the others?”

“They are all coming,” said Ron, shrugging. “We didn’t want to shock them by letting them see that Blaise was with us, so we came ahead.”

“I’m hurt,” Blaise whined immediately. “I’m not ugly, why would I shock them?”

“Because, Blaise, you’re a Slytherin.”

“Well, this house is full of snakes, in case you didn’t notice, so I hardly think that I’m the one out of place here.”

“You didn’t change them, Harry?”

“No. As much as Sirius hated them, they are part of the ‘Noble and Most Ancient House of Black’.”

Blaise grinned. Hermione entered the first room and put down the cage she had been carrying. Opening the door, she let out four cats, one of them being a very recognisable – and irritated – Crookshanks. Harry gasped when seeing a very familiar cat among the three others.

“Hermione, you brought Mrs. Norris!”

“Of course, I did,” she replied, imperturbable. “After what she did on Culloden Moor, it’s the least I could do.”

“Uh… yes,” said Harry, weakly. “Who are the others? McGonagall in her Animagus form?”

“You never were much of a cat person, Harry. You will discover in time.”

Before Harry could protest, the next guests were coming through the door and he found himself in a bone-crushing hug from Molly Weasley.

“Harry! You’re such a dear to invite us!”

The whole Weasley family had arrived, along with a frowning Severus and a grinning Minerva. Her grin didn’t falter when seeing Blaise, though Albus’s smile did fade away. Blaise, who was informally sitting on the ground petting Crookshanks, did not pay him any attention; his only ambition seemed to get Crookshanks’s purr always louder. Then, as soon as Albus turned his back to the young Slytherin, he looked up at Hermione and sent her an evil smirk. She replied in the same way before turning back innocently and leading Severus, Remus and Kingsley Shacklebolt to their respective rooms.

During the day, they all did whatever they wanted, mostly catching up with old friends and even, in some case, beginning odd new friendships, like Blaise and Kingsley, who were rarely seen without each other during the afternoon. Owls came and went in the house, Hedwig huffing disapprovingly when they came too close to her, and Harry, no matter who the recipient was, took the letters and put them carefully on the top of an old oak sideboard. Except two that Severus managed to snatch before Harry with an evil glare and knowing smirk.

As the evening came, they all headed for the room Harry had indicated earlier and the first one to enter bit back a cry of surprise. The door opened on Argus’s office in Hogwarts, the smell of fried fish lashing their face. The single oil lamp hanging from the ceiling had its light reflected by the polished manacles just behind it and in those manacles…

Minerva gasped and strode forward, frowning.

“Argus! What does it mean? May I know why Harry is hanging by his thumbs in your manacles?”

Argus raised his head from whatever he was reading and had an oily smile. Minerva heard a tiny whimper and turned her head to see Hermione, Ron and Blaise cowering in the darkest corner of the office. The Transfiguration teacher took a deep breath and looked again around the office. Mrs. Norris and Orestes were sprawled lazily on Argus’s desk, the caretaker’s left hand scratching behind the kitten’s ears and said kitten was purring loudly, presenting all aspects of happiness. Harry’s head was hanging down and he didn’t seem to have enough strength to lift it.

“Argus?”

“He confessed everything he has done since his first year. Believe me, Professor, the accumulation of them justifies enough the punishment.”

As Minerva opened her mouth to protest, the others being her still being unable to react, Argus looked at the list in his hands.

“Wandering in the corridors after curfew in first year, with the use of an Invisibility Cloak, going into the Restricted Section at night,” he began, his voice monotonous. “With the company of those two here, he went on the third floor which was forbidden due to Hagrid’s… dog.”

“Fluffy,” said Hagrid gruffly.

“The poor child!” exclaimed Molly, pushing Minerva aside and stomping forward with the firm intention of freeing Harry.

Except that Argus smiled and that Molly couldn’t even reach the middle of the room.

“Mrs. Weasley, frankly, who do you take me for? Do you really think I would allow you to interrupt the moment?”

“You’re a Squib! You have no power!”

“That’s not nice to say. What do you think, my sweet? Not nice at all.”

In answer, Mrs. Norris purred loudly as Argus’s finger gently caressed the soft fur under her chin. Before Argus could do something, Molly had whipped out her wand and pointed it at Harry’s manacles. A jet of blue light shot from the tip of the wand and hit the shining manacles. Harry moaned in pain and tried pitifully to change his position to lessen the pressure of the manacles on his thumbs. Argus stood up, frowning.

“Don’t do that, Mrs. Weasley. You will only worsen the punishment. I protected the whole room with spells and none of them is going to be lifted until I’m done.”

Minerva, who knew that Hermione was responsible for Argus’s newfound powers, shot her a glance of reproach, but the young witch was looking down, her shoulders shaking. Was she crying?

“Argus, this is enough, you don’t need to–”

“You will listen to me until the end and in silence.”

Suddenly frightened, they fell silent and listened to him. Soon enough, everyone was half sleeping as Argus continued to drone on. Until he reached the previous month.

“The four of them left Hogwarts during the night and went to Culloden Moor to save Professor Snape’s life and mine.”

Albus jerked awake.

“I knew it!” he said triumphantly. “I’m going to sack Sir George!”

Mrs. Norris jumped on the ground and immediately turned into Elena. Without caring for the cries of surprise, she looked pointedly at Albus.

“You will do no such thing. I was with them and would have rather died than have them hurt.”

Severus sniggered and strode forward, waving nonchalantly his wand. Argus’s office faded into a guest room and left the four young wizards laughing heartily.

“What does it mean?” asked Molly dumbfounded, rushing forward to make sure that Harry wasn’t hurt.

He was laughing so hard that he had tears in his eyes and, strangely, there was not a single mark of the manacles on his thumbs. Hermione was clutching Blaise’s shoulders lest she fall on the ground. Ron was a little embarrassed, not having thought that it could cause grief to his mother.

“Nothing happened, Molly,” said Severus gruffly. “Potter only thought it would be fun.”

“Well, Argus wanted that for so long that we couldn’t refuse. And it was an amusing way to tell you of all the pranks we played.”

“It’s a wonder you’re leaving Hogwarts!” said Molly with a reproving sniff. “You’re not mature enough. Totally irresponsible! Almost worse than Fred and George.”

“I resent that,” protested one of the twins.

“Yet we are leaving Hogwarts, Mrs. Weasley,” replied Harry. “Ginny, if you please?”

The younger girl stepped forward, carrying all the scrolls that had come earlier by owl. One by one, Harry took them and handed them to the seventh year student whose name was written on it. Neville looked at his with trembling hands and shouted gleefully:

“Outstanding! Hermione, I have Outstanding in Potions!”

He rushed to Elena and crushed her ribs in a bear hug, before shaking heartily Severus’s hand.

“Thank you, Elena, thank you, Professor Snape!”

And, in front of everybody’s incredulous eyes, the timid Neville began a dance of joy.

“Severus, may I know why he thanked Elena?” asked Albus, frowning.

“Because she tutored him. She has a lot more patience than I do.”

“Then you lied to me!”

“Albus, please… I’m a Slytherin. We are born liars.”

Blaise sniggered and Neville dragged the attention back to him when he seized Ginny by the waist and twirled around with her in his arms. Then Hermione opened her letter and grinned widely. Mutely, she came by Severus’s side and showed it to him.

“Outstanding everywhere… Congratulations, love,” he murmured.

She smiled up at him and whispered wickedly:

“May I claim my prize now?”

“Now?”

He looked around, suddenly feeling a bit awkward, then looked back at her. And wondered why he was hesitating. He slightly bent down and kissed her as his arms slid around her waist.

“I could be fired, you know,” he murmured, lightly kissing her jawbone.

“Do you mind?”

“Not really. After all, the Weasley twins still hold the title of the most memorable exit of Hogwarts. Time for me to try for the title,” he added, nipping her earlobe before attacking her neck.

“Severus…” she moaned softly.

“Severus! What do you think you are doing?”

Severus straightened, his arm coming around Hermione’s shoulders, and she wrapped her arms around his waist, pressing her cheek against his chest.

“Why, Albus, I’m congratulating my fiancée,” he replied calmly.

Everybody, except for Argus, Elena and Blaise, gasped loudly.

“Wait, everybody calm down,” said Kingsley. “First of all, who is the lady in red? And secondly, Severus, if you care to explain…?”

Severus freed an arm long enough to take two scrolls from one of his pockets and handed one of them to Argus.

“I sent a request several days ago to the Ministry. Here’s the answer.”

Argus opened it slowly, his hands trembling, and his eyes filled with tears.

“My licence… I’m a wizard, I’m truly a wizard, Elena!”

She clasped his hand tightly, happy for him.

“Elena, this is one for you. Now you can reclaim your identity without fear.”

She opened the second scroll and laughed softly.

“My registration as an Animagus. Very thoughtful, Severus. Thank you so much, for this and for Argus.”

He shrugged uneasily and was glad that she took the attention from him as she straightened and, her hand still in Argus’s, said loudly:

“I am Elena Norris. Most of you know me Mrs. Norris, Argus’s cat. I used this cover to hide from the Death Eaters.”

“You took refuge with a Squib against Death Eaters? You have a death wish, girl,” said Molly with a sniff of reprobation as she said ‘Squib’.

“Then maybe,” intervened Minerva softly, “there are more powers to a Squib than what we know…”

Argus looked at her gratefully and she shrugged slightly. Taking his breath, he tightened his free hand around the smooth stone hidden in his pocket. Under everybody’s eyes, he turned into a tortoiseshell cat with huge eyes.

“Filch’s an Animagus?” exclaimed Fred.

“Not really,” said Hermione calmly. “It’s actually the result of several combined disciplines.”

She had a fond smile remembering the first time Elena had seen Argus turn into a cat in front of her. She had burst into tears, pressing the feline in her arms and hiding her face in his fur. Argus had been red with embarrassment for at least fifteen minutes afterwards.

The shrill voice of Molly Weasley brought her back to reality.

“How did he manage that? He has no power!”

Elena’s eyes narrowed and Hermione, from where she was, could hear the grinding of her teeth.

“Now, Molly,” said Kingsley conciliatorily. “Please stop with the degrading comments. You saw, like everybody else here, that he indeed turned into a cat. Do not question his powers.”

“Mrs. Weasley, may I ask what you have against Squibs?” asked Hermione in a tight voice. “For all I know, Argus never did anything to you. Is it in relation with the fact that you have a cousin who is a Squib and never speak of him in the family?”

Molly turned red and opened her mouth to protest vehemently when Kingsley cut in smoothly:

“This is not the subject of the conversation here, Hermione. May we go back on it?”

“As long as she keeps her insults for herself,” muttered the young Gryffindor, glaring at Molly.

The cat that was Argus jumped in her arms and rubbed his nose against her cheek. She smiled tentatively.

“Sorry, Argus. You were not supposed to hear such things. I didn’t know she would react like this.”

The caretaker turned back into his human form and shrugged slightly.

“Don’t worry, sweet. Thank you for standing up for me.”

“You’re my friend, Argus. I will always stand by your side.”

“Back to the subject?” Kingsley reminded gently.

“Oh, the subject… Hermione taught me some spells and potions, offered me Orestes, then created an amplifier for my wand, which allowed me to be taught, let’s say, more thoroughly, as Hermione didn’t have much time. Elena and Severus taught me Defence Against the Dark Arts. Then I went with Severus and Elena to trap the last Death Eaters, got trapped myself and rescued by those young wizards and Elena. Afterwards, I had a most successful meeting with Minerva, Filius and Severus about a charm for me to change into a cat,” replied Argus, speaking without taking a breath between sentences.

They all gaped at him.

“Am I the only one to think it was too fast a summary?” ventured Tonks, who had just entered.

Severus rolled his eyes.

“Honestly! You would think that you don’t even know how to look around yourself and listen to others.”

“Well, we are ready to listen to you, Severus,” said Albus quite acidly.

“That’s easy. Hermione came to ask me if she could use the Potions classroom for her lessons to Argus, I offered to supervise, I fell in love with her and she with me, she saved my life along with Argus’s and thus we became engaged.”

“Wow, that was even faster than Filch’s summary.”

“Thank you, Tonks, we needed someone to state this. So very useful.”

“Severus, she’s a student.”

“No, she’s not. She received the result of her NEWTs, so technically, she’s no more a student.”

“She was a student while she was teaching Argus!”

“Albus, stop whining. I’ll tell you everything, I promise,” said Severus, sighing.

“I should already know. How is it that I don’t?”

“Because you never bothered to put any portrait in Argus’s office and in the Potions classroom. And that we warded them against House Elves.”

“Then young Mr. Zabini being in Miss Granger’s rooms…?”

Severus rolled his eyes.

“It was a cover, Albus. What are you trying to achieve? Make us confess everything we’ve done, lying to you, hiding things from you – oh, the heinous crime! – having our own secrets? The war is over, Albus, there is no need for you to know everything anymore.”

“And what is the Ministry going to say? Cornelius will–”

“What will the Ministry say, Percy?” interrupted Severus.

Molly gasped as her son entered the room as if he owned it.

“I don’t think it’s going to be a problem, Professor Snape,” said Percy, pompous as ever. “Fudge will never know any of this. I assume you have been discreet?”

“The Headmaster himself didn’t know about it,” replied Severus, rolling his eyes.

Percy overlooked his answer and peered intently at Argus and Elena.

“I don’t remember you being there for the last Death Eaters’ capture and I should know: I went with Professor Snape to the Aurors.”

“Nothing that a good Obliviate wouldn’t take care of,” intervened Minerva, who was beginning to be quite amused by the display.

“Anyway, he’s probably lying,” continued Percy, imperturbable, his voice dripping with spite. “He couldn’t have done anything: he’s just a Squib and nothing–”

He opened and closed his mouth several times, but no sound came out of it. Hermione stepped forward, her wand still pointed at him, and her eyes were blazing with fury.

“This will be enough!” she hissed. “Argus did nothing to you, so you will stop slandering him! Percy, you’re still an idiot! You were able to send back your mother’s jumper but it’s beyond you to think by yourself about her prejudices! And you, Mrs. Weasley! I don’t know what you have against Squibs, but I’m shocked of such narrow-mindedness!”

“You know nothing of the Squibs!” replied Molly hotly. “Their deceitfulness, their slyness! They are cunning and vengeful! They are a walking shame for their family!”

“What do you know of the Squibs?” asked Argus, stepping forward, his eyes shining in anger. “You only think of you and the ‘shame’ they bring on your normal family. Have you only once thought about what they could feel? Your cousin left for the Muggle world, most probably because you made him feel like an outsider in his own world. Believe it or not, Molly Weasley, but we Squibs belong to the Wizarding world!”

He took a deep breath, forcing his closed fists to relax by his side.

“You don’t understand what it is to feel like a failure to your parents and family. To see your siblings use their magic without even thinking about it while you have nothing! You think of magic as your birthright because you’re from a pure-blood family. I am – was – a pure-blood too, Molly Weasley! I was taught to believe that people like her,” – he showed Hermione – “stole what should have been mine and were granted a treasure they should never have known about! But then, I learnt better. I discovered that she, contrary to you who have magic as part of your life and think nothing of it, can indeed treasure it and understand what it would mean to live without. Because she has already done so!”

He stepped forward, intent on Molly and oblivious of anyone else.

“How could you understand what Hermione did for me? She didn’t care I was a Squib, yet she’s the most brilliant witch Hogwarts has seen for a long time! She befriended me, when I knew only the sound of the word and was ignorant of his meaning, since all I knew was the pity of the Headmaster and the indulgence of Severus. And the scorn of everybody else. She never doubted me, rather claimed that the Kwikspell program was too slow for me. Can you imagine the burst of pride and hope she gave me just by uttering those simple words? I learnt more in five minutes with her than in five years of Kwikspell! And I would never have succeeded in becoming a fully-fledged wizard had she not been there, giving me the spark of hope and the wings to fly on my own.”

He went to Hermione, standing behind her, and put his hands on her shoulders.

“This girl, so overlooked, except for her intelligence, is a pure wonder. She didn’t step back when I was lonely and despaired; she came to me and held out her hand to me, even though she had every reason to fear and hate me. She went to Severus to ask if she could use his classroom for teaching me Potions. She offered me a new kitten. She researched thoroughly for a potion that I wasn’t even sure existed. She managed to link an amplifying charm on my wand so I could cast spells like any other wizard. And she gave me Elena. What more could I ask for?”

Then, without caring for the consequences, he told everyone how the odd friendship between Hermione and him had begun and how it had evolved. At the end, Severus clapped softly.

“Hail to Argus for the most heart-rendering speech I’ve ever heard and hail to Hermione to be such a compassionate witch!” he murmured mockingly.

Tonks, her cheeks flushed, ran to Argus and hugged him.

“I’m sorry! And I should have understood: after all, my father is a Muggle.”

Argus eyed her suspiciously.

“You were even worse than the Weasley twins,” he said slowly.

Tonks had the grace to appear ashamed.

“What did she do?” asked Fred, interested.

“She did her bad deeds looking like someone else and when I reported the poor fellow, I was naturally told that such or such teacher could swear said student had never left class at the moment of the deed. She made me look like a fool!”

Fred nodded thoughtfully.

“Better than Polyjuice… But then, we were proud of being pranksters.”

“Speaking of which,” intervened George, “that prank on Malfoy was priceless. We thus grant you the honour of being the only one to own the Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes’ award for best prank.”

Blaise collapsed in a fit of laughter as Argus gaped at the solemn twin standing in front of him.

After a while, everything settled down. Molly still pointedly ignored Argus, though it was clear that nobody else really understood the cause of her scorn. There had almost been an incident between Hermione and Percy when Fred had suggested that Hermione was well-qualified to make a perfect Ministry for Magic; Percy took the remark personally – which it was – and was ready to reply sharply to his brother when Hermione hastily said that she had no intention of becoming Ministry for Magic.

Afterwards, Percy sat next to her and began asking her about her way to teach Argus. Percy was nothing but logical and the thought that he could have taken his mother’s prejudices for gospel truth had miffed him. Soon they had devised between them the idea of a school for Squibs and maybe the possibility for them to have a special wand with an amplifier, like Argus’s. Consulted on the subject, the caretaker could only open wide eyes in surprise, while Elena had a soft throaty laugh and declared that she fully supported the project.

Severus, Albus and Minerva were in a corner, surrounded by a privacy spell, while Severus was telling everything to Albus, to Minerva’s growing amusement. The Headmaster definitely enjoyed the fact that Argus had been jealous of Neville, but appreciated much less the Cheering Draught on his sherbet lemons, even though it made Minerva giggle like a schoolgirl.

Harry, near the door, contemplated the scene with a slight smirk.

“All in all, it seems to work well,” he said to Ron.

“Uh-uh. Even Snape isn’t on his own and, for once, he’s even not scowling!”

Harry frowned.

“There’s still the problem of your mother, though.”

“Don’t worry. Dad will make her come to her senses soon enough. I don’t think she ever cared to think about the point of view of a Squib. Must be quite a shock for her.”

“I just hope she will understand there’s nothing to be upset about.”

“Don’t worry,” repeated Ron. “She managed to accept a Veela in the family, even though Fleur threatened her authority, since everybody had the tendency to listen to her rather than to Mum, so I don’t think the fact that Hermione had a Squib for friend is going to faze her for long.”

Harry nodded, smiling. It had been true that the first contacts between Fleur and Molly had been quite hectic to say the last. Bill had just leaned back and let them clear the things between them.

“You know, for a moment, I almost thought that Hermione was going to tell her everything she was resentful about.”

“Like what? Mum considers Hermione like her daughter!”

“Like the fact that in our fourth year, your mother believed Rita Skeeter rather than trust that Hermione would ever hurt me. Like in fifth year, she forbade Sirius to tell me everything and maybe, if I had known, Sirius would still be alive…”

Ron looked at him, aghast.

“Surely you don’t think–”

“I’ve thought about it many times, Ron, and Hermione knows it. In sixth year, I was trying to put the blame on everyone rather than think that it could be my fault, because I hadn’t trust Snape, because I hadn’t thought of the mirror, because I hadn’t cared about Occlumency… And it did come to my mind that maybe, if your mother had not intervened, Sirius would have told us what was the ‘weapon’, the prophecy… and then I would have known that I could let it where it was.”

“Blimey, Harry! That’s madness! Mum is for nothing in Sirius’s death!”

“She is, a little, like a lot of us. Like Dumbledore, Snape, Remus, Sirius himself and me. But she just wanted me to be able to feel like a child, not a grown-up with so many responsibilities… She wanted to protect me, the same way Dumbledore wanted to and agreed he shouldn’t have done.”

Ron peered intently at him before shrugging.

“Believe what you want, mate, but I’ll keep thinking you’re wrong. Now, stop thinking those gloomy thoughts. Sirius wouldn’t want you to.”

“True. I have my birthday party to think of. I’ll be eighteen!”

Ron quirked his eyebrow.

“Nothing to be smug about. I’m eighteen for three months now.”

Harry hit him in the arm and they both laughed themselves silly.

Another year was beginning at Hogwarts and the Sorting Hat had already sung a joyful song, claiming the advantages of an alliance between Slytherin and Gryffindor, though almost nobody understood a thing about it. Ginny and Luna shared a secret smile with the Head table. Albus then remembered everybody of the rules – nobody could go in the Forbidden Forest, the list of forbidden items was pinned on Argus’s door, etc. – before having a devious little smile.

“Now, I’m proud to say that Hogwarts has the two youngest Potions Masters of Great-Britain, and also the best, Professor Snape and Miss Granger. Professor Snape remains your teacher and Miss Granger is staying here for research. If you have questions about Potions, you may ask any of them, but please keep in mind that Professor Snape may not be too happy if students monopolise his young fiancée too much.”

The students gaped. Severus glared at Albus, whose eyes twinkled a bit more. Hermione smiled and put her hand on Severus’s wrist. He looked at her and smiled wryly, turning his wrist to make her hand slid in his.

“As for the annual announcement, we do have a new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher and we hope very much she will stay for more than one year. Please welcome Elena Norris!”

Severus smiled and clapped along with the others when the lanky woman in red robes stood up. The students whispered between them.

“Norris? Like in Mrs. Norris?”

“Wonder what Filch will say about it.”

“Hey, looks like Snape doesn’t hate her!”

“I daresay that most of you are already familiar with Professor Norris, though maybe not under her human form,” continued Albus.

Elena glanced at Severus and smirked before turning into a cat with a rust-coloured fur and lamp-like eyes. Leaning against the door of the Great Hall, Argus smiled, still caressing Orestes.

“Terrific!” exclaimed a first-year Hufflepuff, who hadn’t yet seen Minerva McGonagall do the same thing.

“One last thing about our caretaker. Due to one of our students last year, Mr. Filch became very gifted with handy hexes and jinxes and he is allowed to use them on students breaking the rules. So if one of you turns blue or green, no worries to have, the jinx is totally harmless, except for the victim’s pride.”

Several students laughed, remembering the jinx on Draco the previous year.

“And now, tuck in!”

And they all lived happily ever after.

Or maybe not.