Hey, all! Check out my first story on FF.net!

Okay. I know I promised a Snape-type thang, but I'm telling it from Harry's p.o.v. SO--If you want all Snape, all the time, zip over to chpt. 3. . .The story is a "might be" after OotP, in which Voldemort catches up with Snape, via Potter being...himself. The story rests on the assumption that V knew Snape had spied on him before V's downfall and is looking for revenge, so Snape probably hadn't been going off to rejoin V after Albus asks him to do [what he must ask Snape to do] at the end of GoF. Just wanted to say: I don't think that is REALLY the direction JK is going with her books--esp, since Snape is reporting to the Order; I'm just using it for my fiction! lalalalala :)

If you haven't figured out that the Harry Potter characters are Ms. Rowlings creations, then you are



a Slytherin! In the meantime. . . 15 Hours.

Harry, Ron and Hermione spent all day Saturday wandering around Hogsmeade. As evening fell, they passed by Honeyduke's. Ron stopped. "You know, we've been walking all day. We could do with some butterbeer." His stomach growled loudly. "And I'm pretty hungry. Why don't we just stop and have supper?" He glanced craftily at Hermione. "Wouldn't want the house-elves to have to cook for us tonight too, would we? After all, they just made breakfast for us ten hours ago!"

Hermione shook her bushy hair. "Fine. Besides, I'm rather hungry too." She flounced right past Ron and into Honeydukes. Ron grinned at Harry and shook his head. "She's nuts," he mouthed.

The tavern was brightly lit and teaming with students. Professor McGonagall and Professor Flitwick gave a friendly wave at them from the bar, while Rosemerta brought butterbeers to their table. She propped a menu in front of them. "Hi, kids. If you want, we have the new glowing spaghetti today. I had it for lunch. It's pretty good."

Harry happily ordered the glow-spaghetti--he wouldn't be getting anything like that on Privet Drive! Ron proclaimed he wanted self-enlarging porkchops, but Hermione decided on plain chocolate ice-cream. "Sometimes Muggle food is just fine," she said. She seemed to be muttering under her breath--something about house-elf slavery at Honeydukes. Not that they'd ever seen a house-elf there.

The food appeared on the table--steaming, glowing, and getting bigger all the time. Ron jumped on his porkchops with zest; the chops were already about half the size of his rather large plate. Hermione pushed her ice-cream away. She was still going on about the elves.

"Why would they help us against You-Know-Who, considering the way they've been treated? Would Honeydukes be willing to treat their elves fairly? Dumbledore seems perfectly willing to give the house-elves wages and leave. What I don't understand why they don't understand it's okay to take it!"

Ron rolled his eyes and jammed another bite into his mouth. His cheeks puffed out as the meat swelled. He kept trying to talk. "They just don't want it. Why force them to take it?"

Harry smirked and stabbed at the meatballs with his fork, avoiding the conversation as much as he could. He casually glanced out the window at the wizards in their evening dress. They milled about, hurried on with their own business, talked to friends, or waved without stopping. Walking quickly, walking slowly.

Except one lone person on the far side of the street, who kept to the shadows, wrapping his battered cloak tight.

Harry dropped his fork with a clatter. Ron and Hermione looked at him with surprise.

Harry was staring out the window. He couldn't believe his eyes!

Sirius! It had to be!

That half-starved figure, his walk, the long dark hairs slipping from under the hood as the man paused and turned toward Honeyduke's window...Harry knew he would recognize his godfather forever, wherever. Sirius died last year, but Harry still held in his heart a kernel of hope that his godfather had not left forever when he fell into the veil in the Department of Mysteries.

Harry stared. Was it a ghost? No--the figure was far too substantial. Maybe it wasn't Sirius.

The cloaked figure moved away, and Harry made up his mind. He had to know for certain. He shoved his chair back and bolted out of Honeydukes.

"Hey, Harry! Wher're'ya going!" Ron watched Harry dash out the door. He turned to Hermione. "Where's he going?"

"I don't know." Hermione jumped up and stuck her head out the door. "Harry!" she called, but he didn't look back. He was across the street, then out of sight.

Ron leaned out next to her, looking up and down the street. "Er, back in a minute?"

Hermione shrugged worriedly. "Maybe he saw someone? I think we better follow him." They took out after Harry.

They were back, a few minutes later, without their friend.

"Professor McGonagall!" Hermione shrilled, as she shoved the front door open. "Professor McGonagall! Help! We need help!"

"Miss Granger! What's the matter?" McGonagall hurried toward the huffing, hysterical students. They both began talking and gesturing at once. "Stop! Stop! I can't understand either one of you! Miss Granger, what's going on?"

They both stopped at the same time. By now Flitwick and the other adults were grouped around them; others stared from their tables, and a few students were whispering.

Ron, wide-eyed, nodded at Hermione, who gulped. She stammered out, "P-P-P-rofessor! We-e-e were having s-s-s-upper with Harry, but, but he just--t-t-took off! And we followed him. And we-we-we were following Harry and there was somebody else there, and he put a, a, I don't know! There was something on the wall and Harry reached out and took it, and, and he--he vanished! WE DON'T KNOW WHERE HE WENT!" Ron was chewing his lip, nodding in vigorous agreement.

McGonagall gasped, reaching out a hand to steady herself. "Professor Flitwick! Dumbledore is at the school. Call him, tell him what's happened! Ron and Hermione! Quickly, now! Show me the place where you last saw Harry! We have to find him!"