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Chapter Text

When the trolley crashed against the barrier Harry fell to the floor and wanted to weep. Maybe it had all been a dream. A feverish fantasy his freakish brain had constructed. Of course he would make up a magical world where he was famous and beloved. No wonder Ron and Hermione hadn’t written a single letter to him all summer. They simply weren’t real.

Hedwig fluttered her wings in her too small cage and hooted at a passerby. 

Harry wiped at his wet cheek. If it wasn’t real, he wouldn’t have Hedwig. Or his trunk. Or his wand. So it had to be real, he reminded himself. He picked himself up and ruffled his hair. 

The way to Platform 9 ¾ was blocked, but he had to get to school. How could he get there? He didn’t have money for a phone call, and even if, he didn’t think anyone at Hogwarts could take his call. 

Harry looked up at the big clock and watched it tick to 11:00. It was likely just his imagination, but it was as though he heard the faint whistle of an old steam engine locomotive. Now he had missed the train for sure. 

He took several deep breaths and tried to compose himself. What would Hermione do? That was easy. She would try and ask an adult. But he couldn’t be sure any of the adults currently at King’s Cross were magical and if he asked a muggle about Hogwarts he would be breaking the law and he would have to give up his wand like Hagrid or go to wizard prison. Was there even a prison for wizards? He resolved to ask Hermione later. 

If he couldn’t ask an adult here, maybe he could send a letter? He still had Hedwig, after all, and Harry was sure she was anxious to stretch her wings after that god-awful summer.

Harry decided it wasn’t a good idea to let Hedwig out in the middle of platform ten of the station, so he made his way to King’s Cross Square and sat down on one of the benches by the bus stops. 

The station wasn’t as busy any more as it had been when Uncle Vernon had dropped him off, and Harry thought it must be because most people were at work already. 

He opened Hedwig’s cage and let her climb on his arm. She hooted happily at being freed and gently nibbled at Harry’s ear, as if to reassure him that she didn’t blame him for being trapped.

“Are you up to a little journey?” He asked her gently, stroking her feathers. He sat her down on the bench, pulled out a mostly clean piece of parchment and chewed his lip.

“I can’t send you all the way to Scotland,” Harry muttered as he got out his quill and ink too. “That would take too long. Maybe I can send you to Ron’s parents? Ron’s Dad works in London, doesn’t he?” 

Hedwig ruffled her feathers in answer and Harry hummed.

Even if Mr. Weasley wasn’t in London, Ottery st. Catchpole was still closer than Hogwarts. He wasn’t sure if The Weasleys would mind getting a letter from Harry, but Mrs. Weasley had sent him a jumper and homemade sweets.

He stroked Hedwig’s feathers thinking on what to do, but eventually decided to address the letter to both Mr. and Mrs. Weasley. “You just send it to whoever is closest, alright?” He said to his owl and Hedwig blinked at him. Harry hoped that meant she understood, but with owls there really wasn’t a way to be sure.

Dear Mr. or Mrs. Weasley,

He wrote.

I am sorry to bother you, but I am Ron’s friend and I’m sort of stranded at King’s Cross Station in London. My trolley bounced off the barrier between Platforms 9 and 10 and now I don’t know how to get to school. If you could perhaps tell the teachers at school, or send someone to help me I’d be very thankful. 

Thank you very much,

Harry Potter

He folded the letter and stuffed it in an envelope.

“Send this to Mr. or Mrs. Weasley, whoever is closest, alright?” He told Hedwig again and gave her the letter. The snowy owl hooted at him and took off. 

Harry sighed. He couldn’t do much besides waiting. 

For a little while Harry simply stared at his trunk and at the pigeons, but his mind kept drifting to worries of never getting to Hogwarts so he decided to do his homework. He hadn’t had the opportunity to do any of it during the summer, and while most of his teachers would understand, Professor Snape certainly wouldn’t. 

He opened his potions book and pulled out another clean roll of parchment and started taking notes, using his trunk as a makeshift table. 

Harry had just written about half a foot on the uses of moonstones when a roundish figure cast a shadow on his parchment. 

“Harry! Here you are!” Mrs. Weasley said with a big smile and pulled him into a crushing hug. “Arthur and I were so worried about you!” 

“Hello Mrs. Weasley,” Harry mumbled, getting some of her silk scarf into his mouth. 

She released him from her hug to hold him at arm's length and get a good look at him. “Your owl reached us just as we were getting out of the car. Smart bird, she is. Arthur had to head on to work, but I flooed the Headmaster before I apparated over.” 

Harry didn’t know what she meant by ‘floo’ and ‘apparate’, but he felt it was inappropriate to ask. 

“You must have been so scared!” Mrs. Weasley said and hugged him again. 

“I wasn’t,” he protested softly. 

“Of course not, dear.” She patted his head and finally let go of him. “The headmaster said someone at Hogwarts will wait for you to come through the floo, but I’ll take you to the burrow first. You look like you need a cup of tea.” 

Mrs. Weasley helped Harry pack away his Potion’s homework and held out her hand. Harry took it and something sucked him and his things straight into a warm and cosy looking kitchen. 

He blinked a couple of times and tried to reorient himself.

“Take a seat,” Mrs. Weasley said and pulled up a chair. “I’ll put the kettle on.” 

She pointed her wand at a kettle and it filled itself with water and sat down on the stove, which lit up with blue flames, just like aunt Petunia’s did. 

 “Don’t mind the mess, I didn’t have time to clean up since Ginny and the boys left for school this morning. We were in an awful hurry.” Harry didn’t think it was messy at all. It wasn’t as sterile as aunt Petunia’s kitchen, but Harry always thought Number 4 Privet drive was awfully lifeless. 

In the sink a dish scrubber lazily did the washing up. It slowly drew bubble circles on a hovering plate until all the red jam stains were gone and the plate moved on to the tap to rinse itself. Harry watched in fascination as a spotted tea cup followed behind the plate and underwent the same procedure. 

Mrs. Weasley plucked the cup out of the air and dried it with an off hand gesture. She sat the cup down in front of Harry and offered him a box of shortbread.

“Help yourself, dear.” Harry politely took a biscuit and nibbled on it. 

“So, Harry,” Mrs. Weasley said cheerfully and sat down opposite him. “How was your summer? You know, Ron was quite worried when he didn’t hear from you. Kept urging us to stage an intervention.” She chuckled softly at the idea. 

Harry almost choked on his shortbread. “He did?” 

“Oh yes,” Mrs. Weasley said, still smiling. “But Arthur and I contacted Professor Dumbledore first and he assured us you were quite alright.” 

“He didn’t come to see me,” Harry said softly. 

Mrs. Weasley frowned. “Is that so? Well. He must have checked on you with magic,” she said lightly and summoned the kettle to pour Harry a cup of tea. 

“Yea. Must have,” Harry said softly. “My owls were intercepted by a house elf,” Harry explained. “I didn’t get any mail either.” 

“Odd beings, House elves,” said Mrs Weasley in the same light tone and urged Harry to eat some more shortbread.

 Harry gently steered the conversation away from his summer by asking questions about things he saw in the kitchen. He quickly learned that Mrs. Weasley baked her own bread and dried her own herbs. She also brewed most of her own potions and knitted most of her children’s jumpers herself. 

When Harry finished his tea Mrs. Wea- Molly got up and said that he should better go to Hogwarts now, before the teachers grew concerned and Harry agreed. He couldn’t eat much more shortbread, anyway. 

“You go through first and I’ll send your luggage after,” Molly said and held out a flower pot with greenish looking ash. 

“…Go through?” Harry asked in confusion and eyed the pot. He wasn’t sure if he or his luggage could fit in there. 

“Through the floo,” she said, without elaborating until she saw Harry’s confused face. “Oh, I’m sorry I keep forgetting you grew up without magic.” She smiled and handed him the pot. “Here’s how you do it. You take a little bit of floo powder —not more than a handful— and throw it into the fireplace.” 

He watched as Molly did as she said and the flames turned from a cosy red to an emerald green. “Then you state your destination: Hogwarts, Professor Dumbledore’s office, and then you step into the flames. I’ll put my head through for a quick second and see if someone is waiting for you.” She smiled and to Harry’s alarm got on her knees and stuck her head into the fireplace. He saw her move around and her shoulder’s bounced, but he couldn’t hear if anything was being said. 

A moment later Molly got to her feet again and brushed the dirt off her knees. The fireplace returned to a normal orange colour. 

“Now it’s your turn. And tuck your elbows in. Try not to move too much until you see the headmaster’s office.” Molly gave him an encouraging smile an he dipped his hand into the pot. 

“Hogwarts, Professor Dumbledore’s office.” Harry said loud and clearly as he stepped into the green flames.

He remembered to tuck in his elbows and closed his eyes as he was whirled and spun around. His overwhelmed stomach gave a miserable growl. He hadn’t eaten anything for days until the shortbread just now and the greasy, sugary treat wasn’t becoming him well at all. Harry couldn’t help but bend forward and fall to his knees as his stomach emptied itself of what little it had inside. His eyes were pressed shut and teary. It hurt so much as his body heaved up nothing at all but still kept retching.

Harry sobbed when it was finally over and someone took off his glasses. 

He opened his eyes, but his surroundings were blurry. He was in a dark, windowless room and a dark and blurry figure loomed over him. He looked around for a door and found several. He couldn’t say which one was the exit. 

The figure handed him his freshly cleaned glasses back and when he looked up to see who had cleaned them, he froze in fright. 

“Mr. Potter,” Severus Snape cool and even voice drawled. “May I ask what has awarded me the honour of having you throw up on my office floor?”

Chapter Text

Severus scowled at his copy of Brewers Monthly and summoned quill and parchment. He couldn’t believe what these imbecilic editors dared to publish these days. Severus could name at least three of his seventh years who knew more about the uses of wolpertinger feet than… —He skimmed to the bottom of the page and his scowl deepened. Slughorn. That man might have been an… adequate teacher, but experimental potioneering required a good deal more knowledge than teaching at Hogwarts did. Ever since The Prophet had decided to buy up his favourite potions journal the publication was going to the dogs.

He was about to write a scathing letter to the editor —after all, his name still held some weight in potions related circles— when his fireplace lit up green. He arched an eyebrow and put down his quill. He wasn’t expecting anyone.

Severus’ face curled into a frown when instead of his usual visitors a child tumbled out of the fireplace and fell to the floor, emptying the contents of their stomach onto his hearth rug.

His frown turned into a grimace when the child not only turned out to be Harry Potter, but also retched up almost nothing but stomach acid.

He sighed and stood up to take the child’s glasses off. It was best not to think of him as James Potter’s son, but simply as a student. 

He inspected the boy’s glasses and scowled anew. The wires were bent and out of shape and the lenses scratched up. Fracture lines indicated where the glasses had been broken before and repaired with a too simple or unspecific spell. He cleaned and mended them with a simple flick of his wand.

Slowly Potter opened his eyes and quickly scanned his surrounding for exits. He looked up at Severus and flinched, but said nothing. 

He handed the child his glasses and watched with disdain as the boy smudged them immediately as he put them on. 

“Mr. Potter, may I ask what has awarded me the honour of having you throw up on my office floor?” He asked and watched Potter pale despite his darker complexion. 

“I- it was my first time in the… the floo, Professor,” the boy said and Severus nodded. The floo could make even experienced magicians nauseous and with how little Potter had eaten it was no surprise he hadn’t been able to keep it down. 

“I can clean it up, sir,” Potter said shakily. 

Severus doubted that. The Boy was hardly fit enough to stand, let alone clean or cast spells.

“That will not be necessary. I don’t want a miscast spell to ruin my hearthrug more than strictly necessary,” Severus said evenly and pointed his wand at the mess. “Scourgify.” 

To Severus' surprise the boy flinched at the spell and his eyes opened wide when all it did was clean him and the surrounding area.

Severus held out his hand for Potter to take and the boy took it with a suspicious glance, letting the Professor help him to his feet.

“Are you still feeling sick?” Severus asked and after a moment of consideration, Potter nodded.

The Professor produced a coin from his pocket and exchanged it for a nausea draught with a simple switching spell. 

“Do sit down,” Severus said with only the fraction of a sneer when he saw Potter staggering. The boy all but fell into the chair opposite Severus’.

He summoned a cup and poured hot tea from his thermos, adding three drops of the concentrated draught to it. He handed it to the boy.

“Drink it slowly. I’d offer milk and sugar, but it would counteract the potion.”

Potter nodded and took the cup, but didn’t drink anything. 

He wanted to scowl at the obvious mistrust, but silently admitted to himself that it was only smart in Potter’s position. The boy had no reason to drink it and every reason to mistrust his Potions Professor. 

“It’s just a nausea draught from madam Pomfrey’s store.” That wasn’t entirely a lie. It was from the set Severus had yet to bring up to the infirmary.

Potter lifted the cup to his lips, but didn’t swallow. Severus doubted the boy had let any of the tea into his mouth. He couldn’t help but smile which made Potter go rigid and put the tea down, pushing it away. 

“Potter, as much as I commend a healthy distrust in people with ambiguous loyalties, if I had wanted you dead you wouldn’t be sitting here,” He said coolly, the smile still playing around his lips. “I could have let Quirrel continue to curse your broom and you would have been eliminated without me lifting a finger. As much as I dislike you, I take my duty to protect my students seriously and I, for one, don’t have the Dark Lord in the back of my head.” 

Potter frowned and took a sip from the cup. Severus watched with satisfaction as some of the boy’s peakiness vanished. 

“There,” Severus said. “Now, I must ask, what brings you to my office when you should be on the Hogwarts Express?” 

The boy took another sip from his cup and avoided Severus’ gaze. 

“I couldn’t get to the platform,” he mumbled. 

Severus raised an eyebrow. 

“I thought you took the train last year as well?” 

“I did!” The boy said defensively. “I tried to get through the barrier but it wouldn’t let me in! I thought I had dreamed up the whole thing, but then Hedwig hooted and I thought that it had to be real or I wouldn’t have Hedwig…” Potter bit his lip as if he thought he had revealed too much. It certainly gave Severus something to think about.

“And how did that lead to you… being in my office?” Severus interrupted Potter’s thoughts, not wanting him to over-think while he still had to finish his report. He could save that for later.

“I owled Molly Weasley and she got me from Kings Cross and showed me how to floo.” 

“To my office?”

“No, to the headmaster’s office, but I got so sick… I must’ve fallen out… or something?” 

Severus nodded and cast a patronus. “Tell Albus the boy is with me and he needn’t worry.” The doe galloped through the closed door and left a trace of silver sparkles behind. 

The boy watched the doe with an open mouth. “What was that?” he asked with fascination, seemingly forgetting that it was his Potions Professor he was talking to.

“A Patronus. In the current curriculum you will learn about Patroni in your seventh year, should you choose to pursue Defence Against the Dark Arts on an N.E.W.T. level,” Severus explained and the boy nodded.

“What are N.E.W.T.s?” He asked after a pause.

The Professor sighed. He had long been asking for a class that taught Muggleborn children about the world they were thrown into, but so far neither the Governing Board nor the Headmaster felt it necessary to improve upon the curriculum. 

“The N.E.W.T.s or Newts are a set of exams you will take in your last year at Hogwarts.” He paused. “Like GCSEs.” Recognition spread across the boy’s face.

Severus’ frown softened into an almost smile. “You don’t have to concern yourself with those, yet, however, Mr. Potter. If last year is anything to go by, we will all be lucky if you keep out of trouble long enough to take your O.W.L.s in your fifth year.”

Potter looked into his cup. “Trouble finds me. I don’t go looking for it.”

Severus arched an eyebrow but didn’t comment. It was a mystery to him how an eleven year old simply found himself and his friends in an obstacle course designed to keep the Dark Lord out of Mr. Flamel’s possessions, but he had better things to do with his time and energy than debating overenthusiastic Gryffindors on the matter.

For the second time this day the fireplace lit up with green flames, but this time Albus stepped out of it.

He was wearing nausea inspiring maroon robes with lime patterns. Severus often wondered if these fabrics were already available and waiting for an eccentric magician to buy and wear (perhaps as a gift to despised relatives?) or if Albus had them custom made just to soothe his need to wear the most revolting garments one could imagine.

“Ah, Harry,” Albus said with a bland smile. “Molly Weasley was quite concerned about your whereabouts.”

And you weren’t? Severus thought to himself, frowning. 

Har- The boy mumbled an apology and looked at the floor.

“Please excuse us. Perhaps after the feast you can explain exactly what happened, but for now I must have a word in private with Professor Snape.” Albus ushered the boy out and assured him that both his owl and his things were already waiting for him in the dorm, before firmly closing the door behind him and warding it against eavesdroppers.

“I wasn’t aware we needed to speak before the staff meeting,” Severus said dryly. 

Albus gave him his signature smile. It was meant to be grandfatherly and reassuring, but it made Severus’ hackles rise

“Ah, but I do believe that was before our Boy Who Lived landed in your office, Severus.”

Severus frowned. “An incident you haven’t even spoken to Potter about. Wouldn’t that take precedence?”

Albus simply nodded, but changed the subject.

“I’m sure you have questions about the incident, my boy, ask away.” 

Severus schooled his features into a blank expression. He was certain Albus couldn’t answer the questions he had. 

“The boy has already told me what he could, as far as I’m aware.” 

Albus gave him an encouraging smile and nodded, urging him wordlessly to voice his thoughts.

Severus barely suppressed a sigh, but he was sure Albus had picked up on it anyway. “Is there something you want me to say, Albus?” 

The old coot’s constant plotting and refusal to give a straight answer to anything was nerve grating. Both his masters were so alike in that.

“I simply had the impression there was something on your mind, Severus, that is all. If that’s not the case, I will be on my way and we will speak again at the meeting. I am sure you are quite busy with lesson preparations.” Severus rolled his eyes. As if he kept that sort of important work to the last minute.

They said their goodbyes and Severus was left with a frown and some things to consider.

This certainly hadn’t been the most cryptic exchange between the Headmaster and himself, but it was one of the more worrying ones. Severus wasn’t one to run to the next higher person of authority just because of the Potter Boy’s odd behaviour. But why had Albus been so keen on hearing Severus’ thoughts? Severus had many years of experience as a spy and certainly his expressions weren’t so transparent as to let through the slightest bit of suspicion about Potter’s overall health and well being.

And what was that suspicion even? All the boy had done was throw up all over the floor after he had missed the train. Throw up nothing but bile after the barrier hadn’t let him in.

The first part could have perfectly innocent explanations. Maybe the boy had been ill and had lived off nothing but ginger biscuits for a week. The boy certainly had looked ill enough for it. If that was the case however, he shouldn’t have come to school with the others until he was well or should have gone to the infirmary right away. 

Severus decided to tell Poppy when he sent her the potions.

The last part however… hearing that the barrier closed for any student would be worrying, but the fact that it was Harry Potter left Severus with a disquieting feeling about the starting term. 

Chapter Text

At the feast Severus observed Harry discreetly. 

The boy was eating normally, as far as Severus could tell, and chatting happily with his friends. At one point Weasley and Granger turned to the head table before Potter caught their attention again.

Ah, so he was telling the tale of how the evil Potions Professor nearly had him poisoned. He sneered.

“And what has captured your interest today, Severus?” Minerva asked, sounding faintly amused. 

“Potter landed in my office today.” 

“Yes, the floo accident… Albus mentioned such after the meeting. Did he lose points already?”

Severus’ lip twitched into smirk. “No, I doubt I can take points before Gryffindor has even earned any.” 

Minerva shook her head. “No, I know for certain it can be done. I once took 15 points from Mr. Flint for telling his little brother he had to take a psychological exam in order to be sorted. The poor lad was worried he wouldn’t know all the words.” She shook her head. 

“Of course it had to be a Slytherin,” Severus said with friendly sneer. 

“Marcus Flint is hardly the prime example of Slytherin virtues and values,” Minerva retorted with a stern expression, but her eyes betrayed her and revealed a smile. Severus tilted his head in acknowledgement.

“I assure you he wasn’t my first choice for Team Captain.” 

“Miss Farley would have been an excellent choice. She is brilliant on a broom and a skilled tactician.”

Severus nodded. “Indeed, but she wanted to focus on her studies and feared Quidditch would interfere.” 

Minerva sighed. “A pity. I doubt she needs it. She seems like such a bright young woman.” 

“She is,” Severus agreed, “but only in subjects she cares about. In Transfiguration and Charms she succeeds and even in Defence most of the previous teachers agree that she is skilled with a wand, but Care of Magical Creatures, Arithmancy, Astronomy… History of magic. All those subjects need more attention for her O.W.L.s.” 

Minerva nodded thoughtfully. “She’ll have an easier time after her O.W.L.s. It’s a joy to have her in my class, regardless.” 

Severus smirked. “I’ll be sure to pass that along.” 

“You wouldn’t dare,” Minerva said with a sly grin. “Or I will spread the rumour your favourite student was a Weasley.”

“I won’t say a word,” Severus conceded. 

Not that anyone would believe her. Severus had an unwavering reputation.

They ate in silence for a while and Severus found himself contemplating Potter again. If he ate normally and had no sign of illness any longer then why had he thrown up so little?

And looking at the boy now, even in his fitted robes he looked rather scrawny. Short for his age, too. James Potter had always been quite tall, until the other boys had caught up with him.

“Minerva, what do you know about Potter’s home life?” Severus asked, frowning.

“He lives with his aunt. Petunia Dursley,” Minerva said, raising her eyebrows at him. “Why do you ask?”

“He lives with Petunia?” Severus asked in disbelief. He couldn’t imagine Lily agreeing with that.

“Yes, Albus thought it best. Because of familial blood wards.” Minerva frowned disapprovingly. 

“Is Petunia still with that man she married in…” Severus mentally counted the years backwards. “1976? Or was it 77?” 

“Still in her first marriage. Vernon Dursley, is his name,” Minerva confirmed.

Severus paused to mull things over. 

“I was at their wedding, you know,” he said grimacing. “Petunia and Dursley deserve each other. He was barely polite enough to keep from insulting Lily. And his sister brought all these dogs to the ceremony…” He trailed off and shook his head.

“My, Severus, this must have been the most detailed story of your youth I have ever heard.” She mustered him. “Is there something on your mind? Reminiscing about the past like this isn’t like you at all.”

“I was just wondering why Potter always wears these dingy muggle clothes that are sizes to big for him. It would be a different matter if he was poor, but the Potters were well off and so is Petunia. She always wanted to improve her station by marriage.” He sneered at that and shook his head again. “If it’s not poverty…” 

Severus had always worn second hand muggle clothes and robes when he was a child. He wasn’t judging Potter for his clothing choices, but even if the boy had no taste or awareness for fashion, wouldn’t he choose things that were his size, at least?

“Yes, I have noticed that too,” Minerva said thoughtfully.

“You should ask him about it,” Severus suggested and Minerva nodded.

“When the opportunity arises.” 

“Severus, since when are you so interested in young Mr. Potter?” Albus cut in with his grandfatherly smile.

“I am not,” Severus said honestly. “But he is, after all, my student, no matter how much I despise him.” 

“True enough,” Albus conceded. “You can always come to me if you have questions about his home life. Perhaps after dinner? Over a cup of tea?” 

“I could always ask him myself,” Severus countered.

“Yes,” Albus agreed with an uninterpretable flicker in his eyes. “But perhaps we should discuss it together first. Come to my office after you have fulfilled your duties as Head of House.”

By the time Severus was done for the day it was nearing eleven o’clock. Albus already had a tea tray prepared with sandwiches and sweets, despite the late hour, and was pouring Severus a cup as he was taking his seat opposite the headmaster. 

“Severus, my boy, how have you been?” Albus asked with twinkling eyes.

Severus wished the man would stop calling him that. Maybe being over a century old made everybody else seem terribly young, but that was no reason to treat grown adults like school children.

“I haven’t heard anything from my old contacts over the summer,” Severus said, because there was no use in talking about his welfare when Albus only really cared about the impending return of the Dark Lord. 

Albus nodded. “Drink, before it gets cold,” he said, indicating Severus’ cup.

Severus added sugar and stirred it slowly, scraping the spoon against the insides of the cup. The sugar barely dissolved but turned crystalline, sticking to the delicate china.

“Do you distrust me so that you must test my tea for poisons?” Albus asked with a slight chuckle in his voice, as he poured his own cup.

“Habit,” Severus said with a thin smile. ‘A habit that paid off, no less,’ he thought to himself. It wasn’t a poison, but there was something in the tea that didn’t belong.

“You wanted to speak with me, Headmaster?” 

“Yes,” Albus said and leaned back in his big chair, holding his cup and saucer. “Over dinner I heard that you had questions about young Mr. Potter.”

Severus raised an eyebrow. “I often talk about my students, Albus. I am a teacher. Generally, that involves talking to my students’ Head of House if something seems amiss.”

“And yet, your sudden interest in Mr. Potter strikes me as odd, wouldn’t you say? You’ve never liked him before, what changed?” 

Severus frowned. 

“I would say a student sicking up in my office counts as something I should discuss with their Head of House? Or their guardians, even.”

“Is there something wrong with your tea, Severus?” Albus asked, changing the topic rather abruptly.

“I shouldn’t drink tea this late in the evening. The caffeine in tea is negligible on most days, but sleep doesn’t come easy to me,” Severus lied smoothly, not a hint apologetic. 

Albus nodded in understanding. “Very wise of you, Severus. Perhaps you could indulge in some sherbet lemons or one of these sandwiches? Just to soothe and old man’s need to be a proper host.”

Severus’ gaze was steely. “I have already had dinner, thank you.” 

“Very well,” Albus conceded. 

“I should return to my office. I don’t want homesick first years standing in front my closed door in an icy corridor,” Severus said but Albus made a gesture to keep him in his seat.

“I can’t help but wonder if your sudden interest in young Mr. Potter could be in anyway related to last years events,” Albus hedged, piercing Severus with water blue eyes.

“Meaning?” Severus asked, frowning.

“I am concerned the appearance of Voldemort may have inspired a spark of interest in his… fated defeater.” 

Severus grimaced. “Fated defeater? Really Albus?” 

“You haven’t answered my question.”

Severus sighed. “I have no interest in spying on Potter. Much less to pass along information to the Dark Lord if he rises again.” 

“When Voldemort returns you will have to give him the information you have, my boy. It would be best for you to remain ignorant so you can’t slip up.” 

Severus scowled and stood up.

“Goodnight Headmaster,” He said icily.

“And to you, dear boy.” Albus said, a cryptic expression on his face.

He couldn’t believe the audacity this old coot had. To question his motives and his abilities like that. Severus was a skilled Occlumens. More so than even Dumbledore himself. How powerful did Albus think that… shade was? If an eleven year old could defeat Him, if an infant could defeat Him. Severus’ occlumency wards held under torture and unconsciousness. No one could penetrate them.

At the foot of Albus’ staircase, Severus had to pause for a moment and take a deep breath.

Albus cared about Potter, he knew that. Or Severus thought he did. It wasn’t as clear anymore.

Severus started walking, taking the long way to the dungeons. Patrolling the castle helped him think and this way he could send stragglers to their common rooms.

Albus should have asked Potter about his floo accident when he first heard about it. He should have enquired about his well being instead of Severus' interest. 

Why did Albus care so much if Severus cared? Shouldn't he be glad Severus was getting over his school boy feud? Not that he was, it was just easy to ignore when there was something to investigate. Now that Albus had acted so... Suspiciously about it, twice, no less, Severus just had to find out more. 

He wasn't curious by nature, but he was a spy and it was his trade to know things. Knowing things was how one stayed alive when neither side trusted him completely. Albus trusted Severus not to go running for the Dark Lord as soon as the opportunity arose, but he doubted Albus believed him to be so loyal that Severus wouldn't change coats as soon as a third player entered the field. It didn't look like it for now, but that could change at any point. In just a few years Potter could be such a player.

Severus stopped in his tracks.

Potter could be such a player. Simply by virtue of being the Boy Who Lived he could be a third party. If Albus could see that, and Severus was almost sure he could, why was he alienating the boy by being aloof and caring so little about his well being? Wouldn't he want to keep Potter close to his chest so he didn't turn against Albus and his Order? 

Severus started walking again, casting quick glances into the corridors he passed.

Many things didn't add up and Severus didn't see any other option but to investigate.

There was indeed a homesick first year standing in front of his office. Severus listened to her worries, assured her that she would get used to magic and the unfamiliar castle quickly and gave her a “potion” that was nothing more than a cup of lavender tea, before sending her on her way again. Potions Master or not, he wouldn’t just give an eleven year old a sleeping draught.

Chapter Text

“Potter,” Snape said, just as Harry was closing his book bag. “Stay.” 

Harry suppressed a sigh and gave Ron and Hermione a half smile. 

“You go ahead.” 

“Rotten luck, mate,” Ron whispered, much too loud, and Hermione pulled him towards the exit. 

Harry walked to Snape’s desk and tried not to slouch or look too miserable.

Before the door fell closed behind them, Malfoy’s high pitch sneer could be heard in the hallway. “You figure Potter has detention already?”

Harry shifted his weight from one leg to the other and avoided looking at his professor.

“What do you think this is?” Snape asked, lifting up his essay from the top of a pile of parchments.

Harry glanced at his rather messy looking homework and tried not to fidget. It was several inches too short. He hadn’t had enough time to finish it before dinner on the first day and now it came back to bite him. It probably would have been less suspicious if he had handed in nothing, like Ron. 

“My essay, Sir,” Harry said softly to the floor.

“An essay that was supposed to be at least two feet long,” Snape said. “Would you care to explain why it isn’t?”

Harry closed his eyes for a moment. Bending the truth would probably go further than just lying to his teacher.

“Because I didn’t finish it, Sir,” Harry said, sounding resigned.

“Obviously,” Snape drawled and Harry wanted to shrink to the size of a shrew and scurry away. 

“Why haven’t you finished it?” Snape asked and now he sounded angry. For some reason he hadn’t before, but Harry couldn’t tell why that had changed. Had he taken Harry’s answer for cheek? Harry hadn’t meant to be cheeky. He just didn’t want to lie, but he wanted to tell the truth even less.

“I- I-…” He bit his lip. He couldn’t tell Snape about the cupboard. He couldn’t tell him about his Aunt and Uncle. 

“I didn’t want to,” Harry whispered almost, and when he looked up to see if Snape believed him, he found his professor mustering him with a raised eyebrow. 

Harry swallowed.

Well, if that wasn’t suspicious, Severus didn’t know what was. 

“You didn’t want to do your homework?” He asked the child and the boy nodded. The fear in his eyes spoke volumes and the Professor decided not to press the issue. If Potter didn’t want to talk he didn’t have to.

Not that this would stop Severus’ investigation, but he had his ways of finding out.

Perhaps a visit with an old acquaintance was in order.

Severus didn’t have any more classes on today, and usually He would spend that time grading or collecting ingredients but today he had a different plan. 

"You."

The disdain on Petunias face didn't look much different than it had nearly 20 years ago.

"Petunia. Time hasn't been kind to you, I see," Severus said instead of the thousands of hexes he could now perform without the ministry trace on him. In all honesty, Severus was a little bit surprised he still hated Petunia that much. Perhaps loathing people was like riding a bike. Or maybe Petunia’s face was just hate inspiring.

"What do you want?" She asked, still blocking the doorway to Number 4 Privet Drive.

Petunia was wearing a pale blue apron with some flour down her front and wiping her hands on a kitchen towel.

"We need to have a little chat about your nephew, 'Tuney," Severus said and almost smiled when Petunia scowled. Maybe this could even be fun.

"What's your business with the boy?" Petunia asked, and the hostility in her voice made him feel 13 again.

"Oh, haven't you heard? I am a Professor now. I instruct Harry in potions," He said gleefully and he wasn’t sure why he was so smug.

Petunia looked him up and down, then checked if any of the neighbours were watching before letting Severus in. 

She did not offer any refreshments, but he hadn't expected her to.

"What’s the boy done now? I thought you people could handle him at that freak school," Petunia said, sounding almost casual as she covered a bowl with a towel and put it in the oven, without turning it on.

"You really shouldn't call it that," Severus said calmly, and when Petunia took the seat opposite him at the kitchen table, he pulled his wand out of his sleeve and set it down in front of him, displaying it to her. It wasn't quite a threat, but it also wasn't not a threat.

Petunia eyed the wand. "Why are you here, Snape?"

"Your nephew… your ward… the child placed in your care… Harry James Potter…" Severus shouldn't be provoking her, now that they were both adults, but it was really hard to break old habits like this. Petunias' scowl was a nearly an outright snarl, and if she had been an animal, even just a small one, Severus would be nursing some kind of bite wound. Thankfully, Petunia didn't indulge in these kinds of… urges.

"Mr. Potter isn't doing his homework, and I am wondering if you might have some insights that could help explain why."

Petunia's expressions gained in haughtiness, but lost none of the anger.

"Why is it my business if the boy does his school work? It's a boarding school. Isn't that the teachers' job?"

"At least pretend you care about the child, 'Tuney," Severus drawled. "Not that I'd believe it, but for the love of God, make an attempt, at least."

Petunia scowled again and when it became clear she wasn’t going to answer, Severus sighed. 

“It is your business, ‘Tuney, because you’re his guardian. And because it’s about his summer homework. You know. Course work he has to do here. In his home. Where he lives. Over the summer.” 

“I am not stupid, you know!” Petunia almost screeched, but didn’t raise her voice too much —ever mindful of the neighbours. 

It filled Severus with immense satisfaction that he wasn’t the only one falling back into old patterns.

“Oh, I wouldn’t know. I don’t know how your Muggle education was,” he sneered, because reminding Petunia that she wasn’t a witch had always gotten a beautiful rise out of her, but then something unexpected happened.

Petunia smirked. “Oh now I see it.” Her mouth widened into a gleeful grimace. “You know, Mum and Dad were ever so surprised when Lily told us you ran off with… with Wizard Nazis.” 

Severus blanched. Petunia knew. Of course she knew. Lily had always been close to her family. Apart from Petunia, at least.

“You always did think yourself so much better than me, Sevvy.” Petunia’s face curled into a frown. “And then you got her killed. My sister. Your only friend. Dead because you couldn’t stay away from the fascists. Like father like son, didn’t I always say? It is nice to know that I was right all along.” 

Severus stared at her for a long time and fought to keep his calm. 

“And how do you think Lily knew she had to go into hiding? Why do you think Albus Dumbledore even hired me?” 

Petunia’s sneer faltered when Severus didn’t blow up like expected. 

“Congratulations ‘Tuney, you are looking at an expertly crafted facade and seeing exactly what you’re supposed to.” Petunia huffed when Severus’ lip curled into a smirk.

Severus checked his watch and sighed. “As entertaining as this, I am here for a reason.” 

Petunia huffed again. “I don’t know why he isn’t doing his homework. Have you tried asking him?”

“I have. He said he didn’t want to do his homework.” Severus mustered her closely. 

“That must be it, then. Hardly a mystery. Professor.” Petunia sniffed and seemed to relax.

“Yes, it isn’t unheard of… and yet…” Severus pretended to be in thought, tapping his finger against his chin. “Something strikes me as odd… I remember when Lily learned she was a witch. She wanted to learn everything there was to know about magic. She always did her homework so diligently… soaking up the knowledge like a sponge. You know, even to me it was quite something else to do magic homework instead or normal homework.” He regarded her and then added. “Maybe you can’t relate. But imagine my surprise when a Muggle raised child has the opportunity to do magical things at home for the very first time and he… just doesn’t. How very peculiar, wouldn’t you say? Where is all the wonder? The thirst for knowledge?”

Petunia looked at the verge of… something by the end of Severus’ little speech. Maybe it was panic, maybe it was rage.

“That boy,” she spat the word as if it was an insult, “is to let his FREAKISHNESS at that freak school. When Dumbledore put him here we wanted to make him normal, make him proper, but his hair… and things shrinking… and the SNAKES!” Petunia was panting heavily. “Locking it away is the only thing you can do with this… this abnormality and when we couldn’t— Well at least the cupboard can fit the things now.” Her shriek rang in the silence as they both sat with the implications of that rant. 

“Well, Petunia,” Severus said, getting up. “It was a pain having to see you, but at least now we know we won’t have to again.” He paused and thought. “There might be a hearing, but I don’t suppose they invite Muggles for questioning. Not when there’s memory evidence.” He gave her a saccharine smile. “Good day.” 

He left the kitchen without looking back and halted. There was a cupboard under the stairs. Petunia had mentioned a cupboard, and maybe it wasn’t this one, but a look didn’t hurt. 

He opened the door and pulled on the light switch. There was a little worn out mattress on the floor, spiderwebs everywhere and with crayons a child had drawn on the wooden ceiling. Stick figures and purple circles with little angled legs. Clearly someone had spent a lot of time in here. 

Severus had to leave. He had to leave now or he would do something irreversible to Potter’s only living relatives.

Back at Hogwarts, Severus made a beeline for Dumbledore’s office. He stormed up the stairs and entered the office without knocking.

The Headmaster was having tea with one of the Hufflepuff Prefects and Severus merely glared at her and pointed at the door. 

She fled quickly, closing the door silently without even a protest.

“Severus,” The headmaster tutted softly. “I was discussing important things with Mr. Diggory.” 

“Mister?” Severus asked, momentarily thrown off course. 

Albus twinkled at him. “Yes, he was just here to request a change in dorms and uniforms. I suspect Poppy will inform you about the potions.” 

“Ah,” Severus said, nodding, but then frowned again when he remembered why he was here.

“You!” He spat. “You put him with Lily’s sister!”

“Severus, calm down. Take a seat, have some tea. Let’s discuss this like adults.” 

“No! I will not calm down! You put him with her sister. Against her wishes!” 

Albus sighed and reclined in his chair. “There is no way of knowing what Lily would or would not have wanted, Severus. She is gone.” 

“Dead. You can say it. You promised to protect her and she died anyway!” Severus staggered towards the table. Why was the floor moving all of a sudden?

“It is always easy to throw blame around after the fact, Severus. Now sit down and we can talk about Lily.” 

A wave of nausea overcame Severus and he did sit down. Being angry was so exhausting… What had they been talking about? Ah yes… Lily. 

“There’s a good boy. Severus, you are not looking well. Do you want a cup of tea? I’m sure it would help.” 

He looked at the half filled cup in front of him and frowned. Sugar had crystallised on the inside and with a jolt his nausea became unimportant. He glared at Albus.

“I want to talk about Potter,” He said, his voice was a little shaky.

Albus sighed. “Ah yes, again your newfound interest in the boy.”

It was as if a cloud was settling over Severus’ thoughts and he struggled to reach for words through the fog. “Why was he with… Petunia?” 

“She is his only remaining family, Severus. You have to understand the importance of family.” It sounded as if the headmaster was speaking to a young child or someone with a high fever.

“But Lily hated her… and ‘Tuney hates the boy… there was this cupboard…” Severus frowned. Trying to remember his arguments, all the things he wanted to say. “He isn’t allowed to… do magic.”

Albus gave him a worried look. “None of the students are, Severus. It’s against the law.” 

Severus grimaced and tried to blindly reach through the fog in his mind for the words. 

“But accidents… and homework…”

“Severus, you should go to bed and rest. You don’t sound like yourself and you look ill. Perhaps we should talk about it tomorrow, yes? Let us make an appointment and talk after class.”

Severus nodded and his field of vision lagged behind significantly. With some effort he stood up from his chair and staggered to the door.

With both hands on the railing he walked down the stairs, but by the time he was standing next to the gargoyle that blocked Albus’ staircase the world had stabilised and by the time he was in front of his office, he realised that he should be going to the infirmary. 

Chapter Text

“Open your mouth,” Poppy instructed firmly and Severus did so almost immediately.

The matron pointed her wand at the inside of his mouth and hummed, looking into it. 

“Severus, I really can’t find anything,” She said and frowned.

“Anything?”

Poppy sighed. “I could cast some more spells and keep you overnight, if you’d like, but I don’t think it’s necessary.”

Severus shook his head. 

“It was just a dizzy spell.” he said standing up.

Poppy nodded, looking concerned. “Very well. Come see me if It happens again.”

Severus thanked her and left the hospital wing. If it wasn’t a physical ailment, he could run some tests of his own. Of course he wasn’t a physician by any stretch of the word, but as a Potions Master he knew about herbs and draughts that could cause a wide array of symptoms and that a Healer wouldn’t even think of.

———— Content warning blood and self inflicted injuries (for blood as an ingredient in a potion)————

First he needed some of his own blood. With a sterile knife he cut a clean line across his palm and filled a little pipette bottle with it, before healing the cut and charming his blood sample to stay fresh. He labelled it carefully with the date, but not the contents. No visitor —benevolent or otherwise— needed to know in which vial to find the Spy’s blood.

Severus’ poison test kit consisted of a rack with seven vials, each containing a testing fluid glowing in a noxious shade. 

Carefully, he pipetted three drops of blood in each vial and closed the stopper. 

———— Content Warning End ————

He busied himself with cleaning his work station while he waited for the results. Two of the tests needed several hours before they reacted but the others should change their colours within a second.  

Pink. Green. Blue. Pink again. Murky grey.

Nothing out of the ordinary. Severus wasn’t even surprised. 

He honestly didn’t know what this had been for. To rule out the simple explainations? For his peace of mind? But even so, it was unsettling to know that it hadn’t been a poison. Poisons he could deal with. Or an iron deficiency. Or an infection of the inner ear. Random dizzy spells that left him as soon as he reached his office were beyond him. And another worrying anecdote in a series of suspicious circumstances.

On Saturday Harry was awake way too early for his taste. He tried to eat his breakfast at a normal pace, but on the other end of the table, where the older students sat, Oliver Wood was keeping a close eye on all his players. If the Quidditch captain had had his way, the entire team would be down on the pitch already, warming up, but Fred and George Weasley had knocked some sense into him and now they had some time to eat, at least.

“You never said what Professor Snape wanted from you, Harry,” Hermione asked over her oatmeal and Harry wanted to groan.

He knew that he had deflected their questions, but the point of that had been to avoid answering, not postpone it. 

“Yeah mate. Did you get detention?” Ron asked between bites of sausage.

Harry shook his head. “Just homework stuff.” 

“Really? What did he say?” Now Hermione seemed interested and Harry cursed himself. 

“I just missed the point of the assignment. Gave me a T,” He fibbed, though if Harry thought about it, he wasn’t sure if it was untrue. If he knew Snape at all he would get a T for certain, or he’d have to do the entire thing again in detention. At some point. Or not. Who knew, with Snape acting like this.

“Can I see it?” She asked eagerly. “I can help you with it”

Harry shook his head. “I don’t have it. I don’t have to rewrite it anyway, I don’t think. He didn’t say.” That at least was the complete truth. Harry really hated lying to his friends.

“I wonder if Snape is just waiting to give you detention in front of everyone next week,” Ron mused.

“Why would he do that?” Hermione asked, while Harry felt his stomach drop to the floor.

“To make me look bad,” he said and pushed his plate away. Suddenly he didn’t feel like eating anymore.

“Ron! Professor Snape wouldn’t do that!” Hermione said, sounding scandalised. 

“He is evil ‘Mione! He hates Harry!”

“He doesn’t hate Harry. And he isn’t evil. Remember last year. We all thought he was evil and then it was Quirrel.”

Ron shook his head. “Just because he isn’t You Know Who levels of evil, doesn’t mean he can’t be a bastard in class. We only thought he was evil evil because he is a bastard in class.”

Harry let out a breath and swallowed. It just wasn’t fair. Why did the only person who ever asked… the only person who ever noticed anything have to be evil? He guessed other people just didn’t spend enough time glaring at him to see something was wrong. 

He looked up at his bickering friends and behind them saw Malfoy glaring at him.

Harry rolled his eyes. At least Malfoy was a bastard who didn’t ask uncomfortable questions. 

The rest of the day passed in a blur. Quidditch practice had been cut short because of Malfoy and the Slytherin team, but that Harry didn’t mind. He was still gaining back his strength and eating twice his weight in butter, if Hermione was to be believed.

What he did mind was detention with Snape this evening. 

Ron, in the effort to defend Hermione’s honour, had jinxed Malfoy to throw up slugs, and while that was quickly dealt with as soon as a teacher cast the counter spell, the teacher Flint had decided to rat them out to had been Snape.

Snape, of course, had immediately dished out detention for every Gryffindor at the scene of the crime and Malfoy.

“For the use of a blood slur against a fellow student,” the professor had drawled icily and Malfoy had turned so pale with rage, his complexion matched the slug slime on his chin. 

Harry and Ron had snickered at that and they agreed that it all had been worth it in the end. 

Now Harry wasn’t so sure anymore. He stood in front of Professor Snape’s classroom door, five minutes early, and shifted his weight from one foot to the other. 

All the other members of the team had detention, too, but they were serving it with some other teacher. Angelina was probably just repotting for professor Sprout and Harry even envied Ron, who got stuck with Filch, but at least only had to polish trophies in the trophy room. 

Harry was the only one serving with Snape and already dreading the disgusting and gory tasks he could expect.

A faint tingle in the wards notified him that a student was standing in front of his door.

Severus glanced at the clock on the mantle and raised an eyebrow, pleased that Potter seemed to be on time, at least. He was pleased in general. The whole Potter situation had been giving him grief but Lady Luck seemed to be in his favour and everything had fallen into place quite nicely.

Of course he knew that he could simply ask Potter to stay behind after class if he wanted a word about the boy’s relatives, but that would invite gossip and unwanted attention. This opportunity in form of detention gave Severus a chance to have a little chat with Potter.

The boy was apparently taking his time at Severus’ door. Maybe he didn’t want to seem eager for detention. At 2 minutes to seven a faint knock could be heard and Severus opened the door with a wave of his wand.

“Ah, Mister Potter. Take a seat,” he said with a faint quirk of his lips. Severus didn’t want to seem malicious, but also didn’t want to invite unnecessary suspicion with friendliness.

The boy sat down without a word and fidgeted with the seam of his sleeves.

“I think instead of peeling shrivel figs we shall have a chat today,” Severus mused and wasn’t at all happy that the boy paled again. Perhaps he was anemic? Or simply afraid.

Severus arranged two cups between them and called an elf to get tea. He figured that Potter would trust him more if the tea came straight from the kitchen and introducing a new species to the child might make for a light topic of conversation for a start.

The boy took the seat opposite Severus' desk, like he had before and shifted in his seat. They waited in uncomfortable silence as Minnie brought them a tray with tea and biscuits

“Was that a house elf?” Harry asked, when she left with a pop. 

“Have you met house elves before?” Severus asked as kindly as he could manage without breaking character.

“Only one... he stole my mail,” Potter said cryptically and frowned.

Severus’ eyes narrowed.

“is that so? Did he say why?”

“Said it’d be safer if I didn’t go to Hogwarts,” the boy said, sounding awfully bitter for a child of 12. “He thought I wouldn’t want to come back if I thought everyone had forgotten about me.”

“How odd,” Severus said evenly, trying not to let on just how odd it really was. “Did he say who sent him?”

“No one. Dobby kept hitting himself and giving himself... Punishments for disobeying his Master.” Harry grimaced. “It sounded like his Master isn’t nice at all.”

“I wouldn’t imagine so. Corporeal punishments like these are illegal,” Severus said and sighed. “Which brings us to why you’re here.”

Potter blanched. “Punishments, Sir?”

Severus shook his head. “Things that are illegal.”

The boy looked confused.

“Were you aware that hitting children, your own or any children, is illegal in both magical and non-magical Britain?” Severus asked and Potter shook his head.

“Hitting your own isn’t.” Potter said to Severus’ surprise, but he recovered quickly. 

“If it leaves bruises it is,” Severus amended.

“They never leave bruises.” Potter said coldly, but then realised what he had revealed and froze completely.

“But even without bruises, keeping a child in a cupboard is illegal.”

Potter’s eyes narrowed suspiciously, but he said nothing. He didn’t ask how Severus knew, he didn’t deny anything, he just stared at Severus. 

Severus changed gears. 

“Did you know I was childhood friends with your mother? We grew up together in Cokeworth. She was my first friend.”

Confusion spread on Harry’s face, but he remained silent. 

“I knew Petunia, too, of course, but we never got along. She was always so jealous of Lily’s magic it made her bitter.”

Severus was waiting for Potter to interrupt. Waiting for him to ask questions, but all the boy did was look- no glare at him as if he thought Severus would stop if he didn’t get a reaction out of him. 

“I saw Petunia for the first time in... Almost 20 years, I’d say, on Thursday. We had quite an interesting chat about your homework.”

Now Potter shifted in his seat.

“We argued, of course, but on my way out I saw the cupboard under the stairs.”

Potter looked away, glaring holes into the floor tiles. 

“Imagine my surprise when it had little crayon drawings of people and... Purple suns, maybe? On the inside of it. It also seemed to have a cot in it.”

A long silence spread across the room. Severus let the boy stew in it and refilled his cup with tea. 

“Spiders,” the boy croaked eventually. 

“Pardon?” 

“The purple things are spiders. I draw them a lot.” Harry cleared his throat. 

Severus nodded. This was the best admission he would get. 

“You don’t have to go back,” the professor said softly. “I can make sure you don’t have to go back.”

“I have to. Dumbledore said I have to.” 

“And why is that?” 

“Because my mother died to protect me and Aunt Petunia is related to her.”

That gave Severus pause.

“I’m sure he wouldn’t say the same if he knew of your abuse,” Severus said, trying to keep his face blank. He wasn’t actually sure if Albus would allow the child to leave his relatives, but Severus was not letting him go back. Not under any circumstances. 

“Why do you care?” Harry said then, staring at Severus angrily. For the first time since he had entered the office, Harry was looking right at him.

“Because you’re my student,” Severus said sincerely.

“But you never cared before! You were nothing but nasty! You bully Neville and Hermione and me! Why do you care?” Harry was yelling by the end and his cheeks were wet.

“It’s different when it’s your guardians, Harry.” It was a weak deflection, but Severus wasn’t about to explain the intricacies of the past and upcoming magical war to a crying twelve year old.

“No it’s not! How is it different? Neville has nightmares of you!”

 Severus cringed inwardly and tried not to show it.

“I didn’t say it was right,” he said, trying to stay calm. Yelling at Harry wouldn’t help anyone. “It is not right. But it is also not right for your guardians to do it. You, like any child, deserve a safe environment to grow up in. And I am sorry that hasn’t been granted to you.”

Severus resisted the urge to rub his temples as another uncomfortable silence fell. 

He would never have thought that Potter’s child would have such a talent for keeping his mouth shut. Severus dismissed the thought immediately and reminded himself that Harry was Lily’s child too.

The boy perked up and turned around toward the door.

Severus raised an eyebrow “Is something wrong?”

“Did you hear that?” Harry said quietly.

“Hear what?” 

“Just— nothing. It was nothing.” 

Severus regarded him carefully but didn’t press the issue.

“If you want you can go,” he said eventually into the silence. “But, if you want to leave your Aunt and Uncle come talk to me. Or Professor McGonagall. Any teacher you trust will do. Except for Lockhart perhaps.” He added as an afterthought. 

Severus tapped his fingers on the desk after Harry had left. This hadn’t gone well at all.

At least there was still time until he had to go back for summer.

Chapter Text

Harry barely noticed where he was going after he had left the dungeons. He had simply stormed off and now he was in some corridor or other. It didn’t really matter anyway. Harry had no plans of returning to the common room any time soon. Walking helped clear his mind and after this conversation he desperately needed it.

And why was it Snape’s business anyway? Why was he acting so odd? Caring now didn’t change all the bullying. And favouring the Slytherins.

Harry was fuming. How dared Snape act like that. Like he was the good guy or some saviour. You, like any child, deserve a safe environment to grow up in. And I am sorry that hasn’t been granted to you, his entire arse. Snape was so full of shit.

He should be sorry for being such a bastard. For treating everyone like that.

And why had no one else cared? If missing homework had been all it took to get Snape’s attention… Why hadn’t Professor Flitwick noticed? Or Professor McGonagall? It wasn’t like he had had the opportunity to do any more homework than the few lines for potions.

Harry was crying again. He ducked into an alcove, sitting down on the floor and hiding his face in his sleeves. 

It all reminded him of that one time in primary school after Aunt Petunia had tried to hit him with a frying pan for stealing food. He must’ve been eight or nine at the time, though he couldn’t remember properly. His memory had always been a bit spotty. 

Harry figured he must’ve been at least eight, because he’d been tall enough to see the top of the stove without a stool in his memory, but he could be wrong. 

Then a teacher had acted all concerned, too, but after a little talk with Aunt Petunia all his teachers had thought he was a liar.

At least Snape had talked to Petunia first, a little voice in his head whispered and Harry hiccoughed. 

He guessed if Aunt Petunia couldn’t lie to Snape anymore because she had already tried, that was a small win for him. Not that he was trying to win anything. Wanting to win things was greedy. Wanting things was greedy. At least when Harry did it.

It didn’t explain why Snape cared, anyway. Not in the slightest.

A loud clicking noise distracted Harry from his thoughts. Someone with loud shoes was coming his way.

Harry checked his pockets for his father’s cloak, and wiped at his eyes when he couldn’t find it. He stood up quickly and righted his uniform. He didn’t need to look more dishevelled than he usually did.

Malfoy turned round the corner. Of all the people to see Harry like this, it had to be Malfoy. Just Harry’s luck.

“Potter!” Malfoy said, sounding more surprised than anything.

“What,” Harry said with a glare, trying not to look like he had been crying just a second ago.

“Where are your little friends?” 

“None of your business!” This was familiar territory, at least.

Malfoy smirked like an evil cat and walked past him, but not without bumping into Harry’s shoulder. On purpose. “Smell ya later, Potty.” 

Harry rolled his eyes. Malfoy’s shoes clacked down the hall and out of earshot. 

What was Malfoy even doing without his goons around? Harry decided he didn’t care enough to investigate.

The next few weeks came and went and Severus decided to wait until Harry approached him about his home situation. In part, to develop a plan to gain the boy’s trust in truth and in part, to give the child time to consider. There was still time, after all.

Severus tried his best to keep his vileness to a minimum. He despised teaching large groups of students, so it wasn’t an easy task, but he didn’t insult anyone anymore. Even with the classes that didn’t have Potter in them. If the child got wind of him insulting other students, all his work would have been for nought, and it would avoid unnecessary confusion on Severus’ part. 

He couldn’t afford to drop his favouritism, though. Severus had carefully considered it and come to the conclusion that, while he would stop taking unnecessary points from the other houses, he wouldn’t give them any, either. Many of the Slytherins were too self-centred to notice a change, anyway, and there was still a blatant refusal to give his serpents any points among the other staff. 

By the end of October Severus was in a foul mood. Fouler than usual around this time of year, that is.

October 31st always brought a number of factors that set his teeth on edge. The light families and their offspring were in high spirits, all but outright celebrating the fall of the Dark Lord, despite all the lives it cost on both sides to get to that point. At the same time, most of Slytherin was moping and lamenting the fall of a Master they had never even known. Not that most of them would have survived the experience to sing his praise.

Severus was still licking the wounds of his own loss and the part he had played in bringing it about. The guilt weighed heavily on him, and a better man would’ve been glad that he now had the chance to atone for his sins and reconcile with his past. But Severus wasn’t a good man. He simply resented everything. Himself, his actions, his current situation, his past situations… He resented that no one had stood up for him when bullies had tried to kill him, that Lucius Malfoy, a seventh year at the time, had been the only one who had cared about him as the victim of a cruel prank, only to lead him down a dark path. 

Was this why he cared about Potter? Not just because he was Lily’s son, but because no one seemed to care about him? Popular though he might be? No matter. Severus had made himself the villain of everyone’s story and he simply didn’t get to look for himself in anyone. 

Severus’ mind was preoccupied with pitying himself after the Hallowe’en feast, right until he, and the crowd of students following him, encountered Potter, Granger and Weasley standing in front of a puddle of water, a dead-looking cat and a horrible red graffiti that looked to be finger painted on the bare stone walls.

Severus barely had enough time to observe that none of them had red paint on their fingers or robes and that they looked to be just as surprised as everyone else by the sight, before Malfoy and Filch started yelling slurs and murder accusations respectively.

“Potter,” Severus said after the three Gryffindors left Lockhart’s office for their common room. “I’ll make sure you arrive in your common room.” 

He gestured to Potter to follow him and his two shadows trailed closely behind. 

“Why weren’t you at the feast?” Severus asked sharply.

Harry stared up at his teacher defiantly. “I don’t have to tell you anything!”

A thousand snide remarks were at the tip of Severus’ tongue, but if he wanted the truth, he’d do well not to say any of them. He took a deep breath.

“That may be so, but there are bigger things at play than whatever pranks you and your little friends were up to,” he said in a clipped tone.

“We were at Nearly Headless Nick's deathday party, Professor, all the ghosts there can confirm it.” Granger said and Harry glowered at her. 

“What?! He is a teacher, Harry!” 

“Quite, and as such it is my responsibility to make sure my students eat.” 

Harry turned his glower at Severus, who merely raised an eyebrow at him. If the boy wanted to challenge him, he was welcome to. “Please explain how you ended up in a second floor corridor? Far away from the feast, the deathday party and your common room?”

The three Gryffindors fell silent. Severus stopped walking. So did the trio.

Severus turned to look at Harry. The boy’s mind looked to be going a mile a minute, no doubt to quickly come up with a lie.

“Harry. Why were you on the second floor?” Severus asked again.

“We were following something,” the boy whispered. 

Silence spread again. Granger and Weasley looked at each other, looking uncomfortable and slightly guilty. 

“What were you following?” 

Harry fidgeted with the sleeves of his uniform.

“Nothing important…” 

Severus sighed. 

“Whatever you were following led you to the scene of an attack, Harry. This isn’t just about keeping secrets from me. I know you don’t trust me, and I commend that, but I’m sure you want everyone at Hogwarts to be safe.” Severus barely felt any remorse at manipulating the child so obviously, but it wasn’t a lie, strictly speaking. Someone had petrified an inhabitant of this school and threatened to do more. Even if the Chamber hadn’t been opened in truth, someone pretending to have opened it could be just as dangerous. He would have to talk to his Slytherins about this.

“It wasn’t— I only— it’s not like it was real!” Harry said, looking desperately confused. 

“If it wasn’t real, why were you following it?” Severus asked gently, trying to make sense of the boy’s words.

“Because it said it was going to kill someone!” Harry said, almost shouted. The child looked to be close to tears.

“What said that?” 

“A voice… Just a voice…” Harry deflated and looked at the floor as if he expected a punishment for being able to hear.

“Am I understanding correctly,” Severus said, with his fingers on the bridge of his nose. “You three heard a voice, talking about murder, and you decided to follow it?” Did all Gryffindors have a death wish or was it just this generation?

“Only Harry heard it, Sir,” Miss Granger said and cast a guilty look at Harry.

“Ah, I see.” That explained the reluctance to tell anyone. “And you didn’t think it wise to inform a teacher before following a voice on a murder spree?”

“It was going to kill someone!” Harry said hotly.

“That someone could have been you!” Severus snapped back.

“I was trying to save whoever it was wanting to kill!” Harry yelled and Severus took a deep breath so he wouldn’t try and literally shake sense into the child.

“You are twelve, Harry. It is not your job to save anyone. It is your job to get an education. That is what you are here for. Please spare me from turning grey in my thirties and stop trying to get yourself killed!” 

“I fought Voldemort before!” Harry protested.

“And you are lucky to be alive! Keep it that way. Next time you think someone is in danger go to an adult!” 

“Adults never listen! No one ever believes me!” 

“Spare me your adolescent fit. If one adult doesn’t believe you, choose a different one. This is a school full of teachers, there has to be someone more qualified than you to save whomever needs saving right this second. Merlin and Morgana, choose a Prefect if you have to. Anyone who is not a twelve year old with a death wish. It is not your duty to protect anyone.”  Severus was panting by the end of this little speech. Harry's friends looked dumbstruck with the exchange before them.

Harry glared at Severus, but he just raised an eyebrow at the child.

"I do believe you have somewhere to be, Harry," he said icyly. "Curfew waits for no one."

They all started walking again. Harry kept his eyes on his feet and his friends remained quiet.

Severus greated the portrait of the Fat Lady when they got to it.

"I'll send an elf to you with dinner. You would be well advised to eat it," he said to Harry and the child glared without looking up.

Severus watched the trio climb through into the common room and left for the dungeons when the portrait closed behind them.

“So that was weird, huh,” Ron said when the portrait had swung shut behind them.

Harry said nothing.

“Professor Snape really seems to care,” Hermione probed, whispering to stay out of earshot of the other Gryffindors.

Harry said nothing.

“He’s still a right git, though,” Ron countered, keeping his voice low, too.

Harry said nothing.

“He did save Harry’s life last year,” Hermione said and Ron frowned.

“Doing good things doesn’t erase the bad things he also does, ‘Mione. I think you like teachers too much. Come on, let's get dinner in the dorm, I'm starving,” he said to Harry. 

Hermione frowned thoughtfully as they parted their way.

“I am sure rumours have already reached those who haven’t seen the crime scene for themselves,” Severus said to his assembled Slytherins, some were sat on overfilled couches or leaning against furniture. The Prefects were blocking the way to the dormitories so none of the younger students could sneak off while their Head of House was speaking.

“There is no reason to believe the Chamber of Secrets has been opened in truth, but I advise you to be cautious nonetheless. Even if it wasn’t Slytherin’s Beast who attacked Mrs. Norris, someone did. Do not leave the common room at night. Travel in groups. Look out for each other. You all know this.

If I find out that any of you are responsible for this attack, you can be certain that expulsion isn’t the only punishment you will face. I haven’t been working tirelessly to mend Slytherin House’ reputation for the past decade, only to have some snot nosed teenager, who can’t keep their family’s political views to themselves, ruin it all. I do not want to hear any blood related opinions in the corridors or common room. Keep it to yourselves. Mister Malfoy, you will serve detention with me on the next three Sundays for your repeated use of a slur. If I hear you say it again, you can kiss your Seeker position goodbye. Have I made myself clear?” 

Malfoy mumbled an affirmative and Severus nodded. 

“If you have evidence or suspicions regarding the culprit, come to me during my office hours. Whatever you may think of the Headmaster, rest assured he is a formidable magician and this will be investigated. Do not dare to attempt a repeat of this incident. Do not attempt to copy the culprit. You are dismissed. Good Night.”

Chapter Text

Severus had never understood the point of Quidditch. It didn’t make the entirety of the student body exercise (not even most), it was more distracting from classes than anything else, it only fuelled the ever present rivalry between the Houses, and more often than not students ended up injured. 

It was hardly surprising to Severus when Potter ended up being hunted for sport by a possessed bludger, but he was relieved that he seemingly only injured his hand.

Adding Lockhart to that mix, however, was a curse sent from the deepest pits of hell, specifically to drive Severus to insanity. 

When Albus had first announced that he would be hiring world famous and bestselling fraud Gilderoy Lockhart as a Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher, Severus had made the staff consider that his pupils would likely unlearn every modicum of useful information they had ever come across.

Albus had just twinkled at him and insinuated that he was just jealous of his former student.

He was not. 

Severus was an excellent potioneer. He was a well respected man in the Potioneer’s Guild and his opinion mattered. 

The only reason he would ever want to teach anything else would be because he didn’t want to be under Dumbledore’s manipulative thumb any longer. The curse on the DADA position would either kill him or present him with a wonderful reason to stop teaching children altogether. He could continue his research and maybe take an apprentice…

He desperately hoped the curse would be disposing of Gilderoy soon.

Poppy was muttering curses under her breath as they entered her office.

"I just don't understand why Albus can't find adequate DADA professors. Surely a one year position would be perfect for aspiring teachers who just left university looking for some experience? Or Aurors who are close to retiring? Lockhart, Quirrel, Fairchild. And what's her name… Five years ago. With the- with the hair!"

Severus raised an eyebrow. "Are you, perhaps, referring to Miss Huber?"

"Huber," Poppy seethed. "If I never have to see her again, it'll be too soon."

Severus smiled mildly. "At least an entire generation of students will never forget how to cast a drying charm."

"Miss Spinet still comes to me with nightmares of that day, did you know. In all my time here I've never had so many students in my hospital."

Severus took the seat opposite Poppy's desk.

"Have you ever done a full medical exam on Mr. Potter?" he asked, picking up the niffler paperweight from her desk and turning the little bronze statue in his hands.

"I do a medical exam for all students, Severus. Standard procedure."

"I know that it's standard procedure, but are you sure you did one on him? did anything stand out?"

"You can't expect me to remember every medical exam I have ever done, Severus," Poppy said, but put on her glasses to leaf through the file cabinet. 

"You can't tell me you wouldn't remember the exam of a famous student." He tapped the little niffler with his finger. It reached for Severus with his little… Hands? Paws? Surely it couldn’t be feet? They were too dexterous to be feet.

Poppy made a noncommittal sound and pulled out a thin file. 

“There. Potter, Harry James.” She licked her thumb and opened it.

“Hmm… That's odd.”

The entire file consisted of one piece of paper. It contained the details of Harry's hospital visit at the end of term last year and nothing more. 

"I must have misplaced the rest of the file," Poppy said softly.

"Are you sure you examined him?" Severus asked again and Poppy frowned. 

"I'll have to do another one to be sure…"

Severus nodded to himself. He had expected something along those lines. Famous Harry Potter. By all rights he should attract attention like the moon it’s calves, but no one seemed to be able to pay any substantial attention to him. No one but Severus. And he had used it to bully the child. Living through a war, bullying and childhood abuse apparently hadn’t left him unscathed. He desperately needed therapy. They probably both did. 

“Will you inform me if anything out of the ordinary shows up on his scan?” Severus asked.

Poppy raised a single eyebrow. “Why? You’re not his Head of House.” 

“I suspect there will be some traces of abuse. I don’t want it to go overlooked.” ‘Again,’ he didn’t say. ‘Like with me,’ he didn’t say.

The matron sighed and nodded before shoo-ing him out of her office.

“Out. I have an entire arm of bones to regrow.” 

Severus put the niffler figurine down and swooped out of the infirmary with billowing robes.

Harry was on edge when he left the hospital wing on Sunday. Dobby’s appearance and Colin falling victim to whoever was attacking people was enough to make anyone stressed out, so Harry really didn’t need Madam Pomfrey fussing over him. He wasn’t a baby and he wasn’t Dudley. He could handle his own.

Harry knew that he was a little thin and scrawny, but that was nobody’s business but his own. And that was what he did Quidditch for, wasn’t it? And at Hogwarts there was meals all the time, so there. He was handling it. He didn’t need fancy nutrition potions. He had enough vitamins, he ate oranges after all. That’s plenty vitamins.

And besides. He was pretty sure Snape had put her onto this.

With Percy’s unintentional help, Harry found Ron and Hermione in Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom. Ron was leaning against a stall, watching Hermione throw leeches in a little cauldron.

Harry sat down next to Ron and listened with half an ear as his friends created theories about the monster and Malfoy senior.

He wondered about potions and ingredients and their plan to steal from Snape… 

Snape. The only teacher who’d ever asked about him. As much as he hated the git… stealing was wrong. He only ever stole what he needed and was it really their job to hunt Malfoy?

“Why do we have to steal from Snape?” He asked softly.

Hermione sighed. “We’ve been over this. We need to know who opened the Chamber!” 

“Yes, but do we have to steal? Couldn’t we… ask Fred and George to get us potions supplies from Hogsmeade?” 

Hermione considered this. “I hadn’t thought of that.” 

“Fred and George wouldn’t ask what we need them for,” Ron said, shrugging one shoulder. 

So it was settled. The next Hogsmeade trip turned out to be the first December weekend. The trio had put down their names on the list of students staying over for the Holidays and with the twins getting the last two ingredients, the polyjuice potion was well underway. It looked to be ready by Christmas. 

Rumour had it, Malfoy was staying over the holidays, too, as were his goons. Only Millicent Bulstrode, Hermione’s target for the impersonation, was going home, but she thought it wouldn’t take much convincing to make Malfoy believe Bulstrode had changed her mind.

The only hick-up in their plans until Christmas was the duelling club.

Harry had honestly been looking forward to it. Getting some tutoring in Defense really couldn’t hurt when they had Lockhart for a professor.

But of course they had no such luck.

Lockhart clearly couldn’t help himself and had to make a fool of himself and Harry at any opportunity, and when Malfoy volunteered to duel with him it was a recipe for disaster.

Severus was livid. He was a teacher and very accustomed to chaperoning, babysitting and the like, but usually he was doing it for children. Not colleagues gone rogue. 

This sad excuse for a duelling club was an insult to all duellists currently residing in Hogwarts, Britain and the whole world.

And of course Lockhart had it in for Harry. If Severus didn’t know better, he would think the man was trying to get the boy killed. He quickly reminded himself that he didn’t, in fact, know better, he just liked to think better of Hogwarts faculty.

Severus shot a warning look to Draco when his Godson volunteered to duel Harry, but as soon as the boy raised his wand, Severus realised that he had utterly misinterpreted the look.

“ Serpensortia! ” Draco called viciously, instead of the simple disarming spell he was meant to, and a snake appeared with murder in its eyes, heading for Harry.

Severus had his wand aimed at the snake before most of the students had even realised what was going on, but Lokhart was already marching towards the beast.

“Allow me!” The fool said brazenly and made the snake fly up, up and away… into the crowd of students, opening its mouth at a Hufflepuff boy.

“Why, you incompetent-” Severus started, but Harry was faster, hissing at the snake and the snake hissed back. 

He didn’t allow all his previous experiences with Parseltongue to get in his way and made the snake vanish to where it came from.

But it was too late. The other students had already heard and were backing away from a confused looking Harry. 

“Dismissed! Everyone, back to their dormitories! Out!” Severus called. “You,” he said, pointing at Harry. “Are coming with me.”

Chapter Text

“I didn’t do anything wrong!” Harry said as soon as they had gotten to Severus’ office. The boy had remained quiet during their trip, no doubt thinking about and overthinking what Severus could possibly want from him now.

“Was that your first time talking to a snake?” Severus asked, visibly confusing Harry.

Severus poured them both some tea. This was slowly turning into a ritual for them.

“What? No- I like talking to animals. Don’t people usually talk to cats?” 

Severus raised an eyebrow at him, leaning back in his chair.

“In my experience, cats don’t have a habit of talking back.”

Harry said nothing and took his cup. 

“You didn’t answer my question.”

“I don’t see why it matters! You heard what I said and-”

“I did not,” Severus interrupted calmly, taking his own cup.

“What do you mean, you were there!”

“I was,” He conceded, stirring his tea and watching the sugar dissolve. “But I couldn’t understand what you were saying to that snake, because you were speaking a different language.” 

Harry looked even more confused. “I don’t know any other languages, I only know English.”

Severus nodded slowly. “Parseltongue isn’t a language you can learn. There aren’t very many speakers here, and so there isn’t a lot of research on it in English, but it is a language you inherit.” 

“Like in your genes or like a house?” Harry asked. 

“A bit of both, I would say.” Severus said, thinking out loud. “Usually you are born with it, but with some rituals, under certain circumstances, it can be passed on magically. It is part of your magical gift. Your gift can be changed to an extent, improved upon, trained, but for the most part, it is a set of talents that you are born with. And you were born with the ability to speak to snakes. It was likely passed on from your father, since your mother had a muggle family, or maybe it was a random mutation. Either way, you have that talent and it is not very common in Britain.”

“So why did everyone react that way when I spoke passeltongue?” Harry asked, frowning into his cup.

“Because Parseltongue has a bit of a bad reputation. Culturally, snakes are perceived as evil outside of medicine. Add to that the fact that Salazar Slytherin and the Dark Lord both shared your trait and you get the rumour that all people who speak to snakes are evil,” Severus explained.

“But I’m not evil.” 

“Obviously,” Severus said in a wry drawl, “But people are scared. You share the trait of speaking to snakes with Salazar Slytherin and Slytherin’s Monster is supposedly what is attacking the students. The Monster of Slytherin could easily be some sort of snake, for all we know.” 

Harry frowned. “But snakes either bite their prey or swallow it whole. What kind of snake turns people into stone and then doesn’t eat it?” 

Severus was momentarily stunned into silence. Could it really be that simple? What other creatures were there that could petrify entire humans? None other than the Basilisk. He was by no means an expert on creatures outside of ingredients, but it only made sense. He would have to do research, but if he told the boy of it he would, no doubt, go chase after the creature with his little friends, risking their lives.

“Not many creatures have the ability to petrify, you are right,” he said vaguely and Harry narrowed his eyes at him.

He needed to do research, but what he needed more was for Harry to keep his twelve year old nose out of it.

Severus doubted that hiding information from the boy would have any positive effect. He and his friends knew their way around a library when they wanted to, last year had shown that, although that didn’t seem to extend to classwork.

“Harry, I would like to offer you a trade,” he said slowly, watching the boy closely.

The suspicious look didn’t clear the boy’s face. “I don’t have anything you’d want.” 

“A trade in information,” he amended. 

Harry’s eyes widened at that, but narrowed again shortly after. The boy seemed to consider the benefits of a trade until curiosity won.

“Ok, what do you have to offer?” 

“I will tell you of my research on the culprit. Anything that I am at liberty to tell you and anything that is age appropriate I will pass on to you.” Severus needed to be generous if he wanted full disclosure from the child, but like any good Slytherin, he left himself an out in their little deal.

“Can I tell Ron and Hermione?” 

Severus sighed. If his little friends dragged him into danger because they didn’t know the full story there wouldn’t be any use in telling the child anything in the first place, but he couldn’t let it become common knowledge that he was helping anyone but Slytherin’s supposed heir. “If you can swear them to secrecy they can know.” 

Harry nodded slowly. “And in return?” 

“In return you tell me about your research.” 

“I haven’t done any.” 

“Really?” Severus drawled. “A mysterious attacker is putting your best friend in danger and you aren’t doing any research?” 

The boy remained silent for a while, seeming to mull things over and chewing his lip.

“I guess we have been doing a little digging,” he admitted finally, if a little hesitantly.

Severus approximated a smile. 

“As long as your research doesn’t put you in any danger there is no harm in wanting to know,” he said with a little sigh. Heaven knows he would have done the same for Lily. “If we pool our knowledge you don’t have to be doing anything dangerous, and I get a different point of view on the matter.” And most importantly, he could get a better idea of their plans before they could do anything rash.

Harry was silent for a while, thinking. 

“Alright… You go first.” 

“Naturally,” Severus said lightly. He had to commend the boy’s natural distrust of him. “The snake that petrifies its prey is called a Basilisk. They can live for centuries and if you stare into their unprotected eyes you die. But, if you look at them indirectly, say through a mirror, it only petrifies you.

This is not proof of anything, of course, but it’s the first lead I can follow up on.”

Harry stared at him. “I didn’t expect you to tell me something useful.” 

“We made a deal, did we not?” 

“Yes, but I thought you would say something like Binns did. ‘It’s all just a legend, nothing is real’,  something like that.”

“I’d assumed you had already heard that. Besides, I am by no means saying the legend is real. This could still just be a forbidden book of curses or a hand raised Basilisk in the hand of a student with fascist views,” Severus said.

“Like the nazis?” Harry asked.

“Yes,” Severus said, considering. “How much do you know about the war your parents fought in?” 

Harry frowned. “Is that part of our trade?” 

“No, I won’t make you trade for information that everyone neglected to give you.” 

The boy relaxed. “Not much,” He admitted. “I know there was this man who killed people and that Malfoy’s family was with him and that they don’t like Muggleborns.”

Severus nodded. “The Dark Lord believed in a concept called blood purity. He didn’t want Magical people mixing with Non-Magical people, because he thought it would make us weaker.” 

“Mixing like having babies?” Harry said, frowning. 

“Yes, but also associating. He believed that muggles are dirty and that they would stain us. It is racism, Harry, nothing more,” Severus said gravely.

“He didn’t invent blood purity; it has been around for the longest time. Many try to justify it by saying it traces back to the witch trials, but it has been a long time since a genuine witch has died because of the church. Maybe we were the victims once, but that was a long time ago. In recent history, two wars were fought over it. It’s not self defence anymore, if it ever was.” 

“So Voldemort was like Hitler, then, and Muggleborns are like Jews?” Harry asked, sounding a bit confused.

“Maybe don’t put it like that, but that’s what it amounts to.” His lip twitched into a smile at the blunt phrasing.

“And was Slytherin like Voldemort? Because he was also a par-sel-mouth?” Harry asked, sounding out the new word.

Severus took a deep breath to buy himself some time before having to answer.

“It’s hard to say, Harry. Slytherin lived almost a thousand years ago and it’s hard to draw comparisons between current ideologies and beliefs a historical figure might have had. Slytherin is mostly a myth and all we know of the Founders are personal letters at best and hearsay at worst. Both of which are hardly reliable sources. But what I can tell you is that Salazar Slytherin lived in a very different time. It was long before witch trials were common, but the Christians were never fond of magic. They just viewed it as a pagan religion and thus sought to end and replace it with their own faith.

Slytherin famously didn’t want students of non-magical heritage at Hogwarts, but I know for a fact that Halfblood and Muggleborn students get sorted into Slytherin. The Sorting is based on what kind of students the Founders wanted to teach, we know this for a fact from our Sorting Hat, so therefore Slytherin must not have minded students who aren’t pureblooded.” 

Harry frowned thoughtfully. “But why does Slytherin’s Monster then want to kill Hermione?”

“Because, even if the legend is true, the Beast doesn’t just ransack the place on a whim. It needs someone to guide it and that person has beliefs that might, or might not, differ from Slytherin’s views.”

“So, if we don’t know that Slytherin was evil, why does everyone hate Slytherins?”

Severus smiled. “Everyone doesn’t hate Slytherin. We have a bit of a damaged reputation because the recent war is still fresh in everyone’s mind. House affiliation oftentimes runs in the family. We have children of Death Eaters in Slytherin now where we had Death Eaters in Slytherin then. The longer you stay in the magical world the more you will find that all the prominent Death Eaters didn’t really leave their positions of power. The government at the time was infiltrated by followers of the Dark Lord, but never overthrown, they never saw the point in sweeping out the bad apples and so nothing really changed when the war was over. The rich stayed rich and the powerful stayed powerful. At the moment it isn’t fashionable to be against Muggles publicly, but if you look closely you can see that the bigotry runs deep, even with those that claim they don’t think Muggles are inferior. If the Dark Lord had been a Hufflepuff, things would look dire for our students in yellow for now. Either way, it will pass in a couple decades.”

Harry thought about that, drinking his tea and chewing his lip.

“We made a deal,” he said after a while and took a deep breath.

“We think it’s Malfoy,” Harry said with determination.

Severus blinked. “Ah. I- see. That is not an unreasonable assumption.” It certainly made sense from the boy’s perspective, but Severus sincerely doubted that Draco had the stomach for that kind of devotion to his father’s beliefs.

“If that’s the case, the Chamber of Secrets hasn’t been opened in truth. That could be good news.”

“Why not?”

“Because the Malfoys have always been very meticulous about genealogy, and if there was a single drop of Slytherin blood in their family, no one would hear the end of it,” he explained.

He deflated. “Oh. Guess he’s just pretending, then.”

“If that’s the case and there’s some evidence, it would be easy enough to deal with it. Draco would be expelled, of course, and the attacks would stop.”

Harry bit his lip. Either he had a guilty conscience or he was not telling him everything. Or both.

Severus wouldn’t push, although he wanted to. He had given Harry one piece of information and the child had given one back. He had nothing else that would be productive for the boy to know, so he couldn’t demand more from him.

“Think on what we discussed,” Severus said and sent their empty cups to the kitchen. “But before you go, it is imperative that these conversations stay between us.” The boy opened his mouth to protest. “And Miss Granger and Mr. Weasley. No one else is to know about this. For reasons I cannot explain to you today it is important that nobody knows where my loyalties lie. If you want different opinions on the war, you can go to the library or ask your Head of House, but I ask you not to reveal my opinions to anyone.”

Harry frowned. “Alright…” he said slowly. The boy didn’t seem to understand, but Severus didn’t think he could reveal everything just yet. The return of the Dark Lord last year was a worrying development, but there was no evidence to support that He would try a real return soon. He didn’t want to worry the child more than necessary, but it was a matter of survival for Severus to maintain his ambiguous status. 

Of course Harry wasn’t yet involved in any of this. He was only seeing the aftermath of the previous war in the form of House rivalries, but of course that wasn’t everything there was to it. Not even close.
Harry was already in too deep for Severus’ taste. He had already survived two attacks on his person, more if one counted Petunia’s tender care. He would do what he could to keep Harry out of it until the boy had a better understanding of the world, politics, and his own role in both.

“I am trusting you, Harry, this is going so far beyond House rivalries.” 

The child nodded and Severus sent him on his way to the Gryffindor common room.

Harry didn’t have the opportunity to talk to both of his friends until the next day. They sat in a secluded corner of the common room with a muffling charm giving them a bit of extra privacy, surrounded by books. Ron was idly toying with his chess pieces as they talked.

“So Professor Snape isn’t a bastard!” Hermione said triumphantly after Harry had told them about his meeting the day before.

Ron shrugged. “Does it matter what he thinks when he acts like a bastard? Neville still has nightmares about messing up potions, whether he’s a bigot or not.” 

“Neville has nightmares about potions?” Hermione asked, sounding worried. “Why did he never say? I could have helped him!” 

“It’s nothing you want the whole year to know, is it,” Harry said. “He already has enough people making fun of him.” 

“I wouldn’t make fun,” Hermione said, sounding hurt. “I wouldn’t tell anyone. He could have asked me for help. Still could.” 

“Well, ‘mione,” Ron said carefully, not wanting to hurt his friend. “Sometimes you get judgy when people don’t know things you do.” 

“Or study the way you do,” Harry added.

“Or like other things more than homework.” 

Hermione deflated even more. “I guess that makes sense…”

“That’s not important right now, anyway,” Harry said to bring them back to the topic at hand. “We need to research Basilisks.” 

“Right!” Hermione said energetically, putting her troubles aside for the moment. “There’s a little bit about them in Magical Creatures and Where to Find Them, but not a whole lot,” she said. “I’ll have to get more books from the library.”

“Isn’t that a third year book?” Ron asked.

“Yes, I borrowed some of the upcoming textbooks from Percy. We get to pick new subjects this summer and I want to make an educated choice.” She explained, as if that was a totally normal and logical thing to be thinking about already.

“Right, so what does it say,” Harry urged. 

“Not a lot more than what Professor Snape told you. Deadly gaze, gets really old…” She paused trying to remember. “It dies when it hears the call of a rooster and, for some reason, they hatch from a chicken egg incubated by a toad, which I think is very odd and doesn’t make a lot of sense. It really sounds like medieval superstition. Chicken eggs are fertilized before they are even layed and all you would get from a toad sitting on it is a rotten egg, because toads couldn’t possibly keep it warm enough.” She shook her head, frowning.

Ron shrugged. “Toads are very magical. Everyone knows that. Like Gnomes and cats and bees.” 

“They are?” Harry asked.

“Yeah, obviously. Do you not know that?” 

“Muggle raised.” Hermione said, sounding irritated. “Who’s judgy now?” 

“Right, well, I don’t know the specifics. They are good for ponds and everything that’s part water part not and they’re treasure guardians, aren’t they. That’s why they put them in cleaning things and lady potions.” 

“Lady potions,” echoed Hermione, deeply underwhelmed by that piece of information.

“Yeah, my Aunt Muriel’s friend has a granddaughter… or great granddaughter? And she was trying for a baby, see, and it didn’t work, so Mum made her a potion and we had to collect toads for it.” 

Hermione hummed and thought. “So fertility and treasures. But what does that have to do with snakes? Chickens are birds and toads amphibians… How does that make a reptile?” 

“Birds are reptiles,” Harry said, proud that his snake research in the primary school library had finally paid off.

Hermione hummed. “We should test this, to find out if Malfoy made a Basilisk over the summer.” 

“‘Mione!” Ron exclaimed. “We can’t make a Basilisk! It’s illegal!” 

“But we need to know! It’s for science! If it doesn’t work, then it can’t be Malfoy and someone opened the Chamber for real!” 

“But if it does work,” Harry said, trying to curb Hermione’s Crime-Enthusiasm, “we proved nothing, other than that our textbook isn’t bogus. If we can make a Basilisk, anyone can. Not just Malfoy.” 

“Right… So we still need to ask him.” Hermione said, nodding.

“And not grow Basilisks in Myrtle's bathroom,” Ron added.

“Right.” 

“Right.”

Chapter Text

The following days were turbulent. Two more Hogwarts' residents fell victim to the mystery attacker. Another Muggleborn student and the Gryffindor ghost. 

Severus was certain he could rule out curses now. No jinx, charm, spell or curse could affect ghosts, that was common knowledge. And a few hours of further research in the library confirmed this to be true. Ghosts could be indirectly affected, but aiming a wand at a ghost wouldn’t yield results. 

In a sense it was good news, since this way he could focus on creatures and plants. Potions had been an option too, right until the Creevy boy had had his camera film melted. Severus had inspected the plastic and run multiple tests, but there had been no trace of an unusual potion.

So it had to be a creature or plant. Gorgons were hard to come by and the likelihood of a student hiding an entire Medusa in the castle was low, but he wanted to make sure. 

“Cluaran,” He called and a house elf appeared. 

“What can Cluaran do for Professor Snape?” 

“I have a few questions for you, if you can spare the time.”

“Cluaran can,” the Elf confirmed with a little bow, making his ears flop.

Severus smiled. “In light of the recent attacks, I am investigating a bit on the side. I was wondering whether any of the elves had noticed anything out of the ordinary.”

The elf took his time to think about the inquiry with a thoughtful look on his face.

“Cluaran is unsure what Professor Snape means,” he said after a while. “Out of the ordinary how?” 

“Is one of the students perhaps… hiding food? Or live mice to feed a secret snake?” 

The elf, again, considered the question.

“Several of the Slytherin students have snakes as pets, Professor, but none of them are new. Mister Ronald Weasley has a pet rat. Cluaran doesn't think the rat is for food. Cluaran believes almost all of the students are hiding snacks of some sort, Professor, but the elves can make a list, if the Professor wants us to.” 

Severus shook his head. “No, it’s alright. Perhaps you could tell me if any of the students are hiding unusual amounts of food? Primarily meat?”

Another long pause followed Severus’ question.

“Mister Harry Potter, Miss Suzuki Natzumi and Mister Nathaniel Douglas all are hiding food, several of the older students too. None of this is new either.” 

Severus nodded. He had already suspected Harry would be hiding food and he knew of several students in his house whom the elf didn’t list.

“Thank you. What about paint smeared robes?” 

Cluaran paused to think again. “No stains of paint and no stains that are unusual, Professor.” 

Severus hummed. Maybe it hadn’t been paint? But surely if it had been blood there had to have been a source for it…

“Any blood stains?” 

This time Cluaran nodded immediately. “Many, Professor.” 

“Many?” Severus asked, sounding alarmed.

“There are many students at Hogwarts who bleed, Professor. Human anatomy demands it,” the Elf’s eyes widened. “Cluaran is surprised the Professor was not aware.” 

“Oh. Yes. Of course,” Severus shook his head. Of course there would be stains. “But any unusual blood stains?” 

Again, the elf took his time to answer. “Chicken blood, Sir.” 

Severus sighed.  “Thank you, Cluaran. At least I was able to rule some things out.” 

“The professor is welcome,” Cluaran said and vanished with a pop of displaced air.

“Chicken blood,” Severus said to the empty room. He would have to follow up on that another time. For now his focus was with the attacks, other student shenanigans could wait.

“I believe you have classes to attend, Mr. Potter,” Severus said mildly.

The other students were rushing out to flee the dungeons, only Harry was taking his time.

“I wanted to talk to you,” he said to the floor.

“I see. Do you prefer talking here or in my office?”

“Here is fine.'' The boy was fidgeting with his sleeves and avoiding eye contact.

Severus pulled up a chair for himself and sat down opposite Harry. “How can I help you?”

Harry seemed taken aback but gathered his wits quickly.

“I don’t want to go back to the Dursleys,” Harry finally admitted.

Severus nodded. “Alright. That’s understandable. Do you already have an idea how to make that happen?”

Harry shook his head, looking dejected.

“I thought as much. Don’t worry, I’ve been thinking on it since September. I’ll tell you what I have in mind, alright?” 

Harry nodded.

“My first step would be to talk to the Headmaster. For whatever reason, he put you with your Aunt and Uncle and he presumably holds some of your custody,” Severus explained.

“But Professor Dumbledore already said that I had to stay with them,” Harry pointed out, sounding miserable.

“So he did,” Severus agreed calmly. “But we have different evidence now. I will anonymously submit my eye witness account of the cupboard to the Department for the Protection of Magical Youth. There will be a hearing and, if you want to, you can write a statement or a social worker will ask you some questions. You won’t have to see Petunia or her husband for any of this. In our case, the blatant bigotry of the Ministry works in our favour, as non magical people do not get invited to hearings.”

Harry swallowed thickly and nodded.

“And where would I live for the summer?” He asked after some silence.

“I don’t know. It’s likely that the DPMY will pick a family for you to stay with. Maybe a foster family already in the system, or, because of your fame, a Muggle family who had or still has a child at Hogwarts. Perhaps the Headmaster will suggest a family, or, for the beginning, you might stay with the Weasleys or Grangers. 

You will definitely have a case worker at the DPMY and if you are at any point uncomfortable or unsafe in your new home, you can always get a better place. You don’t have to stay anywhere you aren’t safe anymore.” 

“Except Hogwarts,” Harry said with a small smile.

Severus gave a pained chuckle and sighed. “I wish it wasn’t so.” 

“Severus, take a seat. What brings you to my office today?” Albus twinkled and Severus concealed his annoyance expertly. 

“I am here to talk about the matter of Harry Potter’s custody,” He said bluntly before he even sat down. There was no point in beating around the bush.

“I wasn’t aware the matter was up for debate.” 

“It will be soon.” 

“Surely you aren’t volunteering for the position? And I’m certain you can see the danger in letting the Ministry hold that power over the boy,” Albus said coolly. 

So he wasn’t denying the necessity of a change in guardians.

Severus tilted his head in acknowledgement. “But I am sure you know of many trustworthy candidates who would be up for the task.” 

Albus sighed in a way only a man past his first century could. He waved his hand and an ugly mismatched tea set set itself up in front of them. The tin enthusiastically scooped little spoonfuls of leaves into the pot of gently steaming water. The pot closed its lid.

“Harry Potter lives where he does for a reason, my boy.” Albus said gravely. 

“Don’t patronize me. I hold several masteries. I am not a child. Either you give me your reasons or I will disregard them in my course of action.” Severus’ patience was running out quickly.

“Blood magic, Severus,” Albus said tiredly. “The sacrifice that protects Harry is blood magic. Harry needs to stay with his relatives to remain safe.”

Severus stared at Albus. 

“You know he isn’t safe.” 

The tea pot removed its leaves and poured two cups of lightly coloured tea. Albus’ usual, rune covered cup floated over to him. The flower patterned cup positioned itself in front of Severus. 

Albus raised his eyebrows. “I’m afraid I don’t know what you mean.” 

“He isn’t safe with Petunia,” Severus said. “A-and you know that.” 

Albus sighed again. “Have some tea, my boy. I am trying a new oolong.” 

“Sugar?” He asked, his voice echoing in his own head and sounding muffled at the same time.

“Surely you don’t want to spoil such a fine tea with milk and sugar?” 

Severus frowned. The sugar was important…

“Try it, you’ll be surprised,” Albus said, sipping his own cup.

He didn’t move. Fog settled over his thoughts.

“Severus, I have told you before. There are bigger things at play here than whether or not he gets a second dessert. I’m sure Harry and his relatives fight, but teenagers are a difficult bunch.”

“Petunia is- she… is bad.” 

Albus nodded sagely. “Childhood rivalries are a powerful thing, but I’m sure you understand that can’t be the basis for a custody battle.”

“I’ve proof!” Severus said, finding some fight in him.

“What proof do you have?” Albus asked indulgently.

“I’ve seen it... His room! A cupboard…” 

Albus shook his head. “You aren’t making sense, my boy. You should get an early night. Rest up and we’ll talk another time, when you’re feeling more like yourself.” 

Severus wanted to protest. He really did, but the fog was heavy and thick now.

Chapter Text

Severus came to a staggering halt in front of his quarters and practically fell onto the rug in his living room. The symptoms were as intense as they had been last time, though the fog was clearing already. There was no doubt that it had been the same phenomenon then, even if it didn’t last as long this time. 

Severus needed to check his occlumency wards, but if the lingering fog affected his thoughts while he tried to enter the imaginary space in his mind, he would get lost in the nature of it. He needed to clear his head first.

He mentally reviewed his visits with the Headmaster. Both times he had discussed Potter’s home life and both times he had been hit with dizzy spells. Both times he had refused Albus’ hospitalities and yet something had affected his mind. It had to have been something in the room, but if the air had been poisoned, Albus would have had to have been affected as well. Severus doubted he could figure it out now. Perhaps if he questioned Albus outside of the Headmaster’s office he would make some progress? But then, steering Albus’ attention towards Harry’s home life was unwise. Especially now that he would have to consider other avenues of protecting the child.

He shook his head at himself and sighed. At least he wasn’t dizzy anymore and so he let himself visualise his occlumency wards in front of his mind’s eye.

The image of the Hogwarts dungeons came easily to him. Afterall, he was there now. But in his mind’s eye he saw the echoing halls and corridors, lit by torches and so much like a Labyrinth to anyone who wasn’t familiar. He saw the different tunnels that led to nowhere and the doors that only spat you out again at the start. In his mind, Severus was the master of the maze. He changed the passageways to his will and those who knew the real dungeons lost their grasp on reality more quickly to the winding ways than those who simply tried their luck. Holding on to what ought to be would only lead them further and further away from the figurative yellow brick road that ended in the emerald city of Severus’ thoughts and secrets. The deliberately confusing passages got more and more distorted and winding the closer an intruder came to the core behind his walls and none who had earnestly tried to get past them gained anything other than fear of the surreal.  

His barriers were intact. Nothing was out of place and there had been no sign of entry, forceful or covert. 

Thinking about his wards and imagining them was quite the opposite of grounding, but it helped calm him nonetheless. It made his mask slip comfortably into place and the fear that mysterious dizzy spells brought with them got lost somewhere along the way.

He would have to tell the child that official channels would not help them in their efforts. Not when the damage to Albus’ reputation last year had barely left a stain. Not with half the Ministry in Albus' pocket and the other half having murder in their eyes when they thought about the Potter-boy. There was no chance of getting any legal help. 

Despite his better judgement Severus summoned a glass and filled it with whiskey from his liquor cabinet at home. 

He would need an alternate course of action before he could tell the boy any of this.

Harry could tell that Professor Snape was avoiding him. He wasn’t watching him as much during meal times and he hadn’t asked Harry to stay behind after class yet. 

Harry wasn’t the patient sort. Waiting for days set his teeth on edge, especially when there wasn’t an end in sight. He tried very hard to be patient when it mattered, but in this case knowing was more important. He needed to know if he had to go back to the Dursleys in the Summer. He needed to know if Professor Snape would keep his promise. 

“Why don’t you just ask him?” Hermione suggested carefully. They were sitting in the library together, she reading through her notes and Harry sitting next to her, with his head on her shoulder and holding her coloured markers. Ron was re-sorting his chocolate frog cards by rarity, adding all his new cards to his collection folder.

“I don’t want to be a bother.” 

Hermione hummed, underlining the dates of battles in green, the dates of diplomatic exchanges in blue.

“But he’s being a bother by avoiding you,” Ron argued.

“He isn’t doing anything,” Harry said, frowning.

“Yeah,” Ron said, shoving a wiggling chocolate frog into his mouth. “And that’s annoying.” 

“I’m sure Professor Snape is just busy,” Hermione said with her endless trust in authority shining brightly. “You don’t have to go back until summer, so there’s plenty of time.” 

Harry frowned even more. 

“Maybe set a date? And if he hasn’t said anything by then just ask him,” Hermione offered and Harry hummed noncommittally. It was a good idea, he just wasn’t sure he could do it.  He just couldn’t bring himself to do anything. Doing things sounded hard.

The next few days followed suit: the exhausting mixture of impatient waiting and the resigned feeling hanging over him like a cloud made it feel like the days were blending into each other. Nothing came through the rubber curtain his feelings hid behind and he had no reason to try and reach though it. Nothing felt important enough, not classes, not quidditch. Nothing really mattered if he had to go back to the Dursleys. The option of something else made the prospect of maybe having to go back even worse. Instead of being the same old same old, returning to the Dursleys would be failing. Failing to get help, failing to free himself, just… failing.

Harry was already surrendering to pessimism and his previous experiences. In his mind, everything had been too good to be true and with every day that passed, he convinced himself that maybe Professor Snape had just forgotten about it and him entirely. And really, what did it matter anyway. Maybe it was for the best if he stayed with the Dursleys, they were family, after all, and wanting something else than what God gave you was greedy. Everything happened for a reason, didn’t it, so wanting to change it was either silly or arrogant. Maybe Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon were right, maybe he was arrogant after all.

The first shimmer of hope reappeared when Professor Snape asked him to stay after class.

Harry had had several lessons with Professor Snape since they had talked, but previously the Potion’s Master hadn’t shown any interest in speaking with him again. 

Hermione smiled encouragingly at Harry, holding up her crossed fingers and Ron patted him on the shoulder before they left with the rest of the class.

“I think we had better have tea with this conversation,” Professor Snape said, holding the door to his office open for Harry.

He felt his stomach drop to the floor. That didn’t sound good at all. He would have to go back to the Dursleys, he was sure now. He couldn’t- He wouldn’t go back! 

Harry took the seat opposite Professor Snape’s desk, awkwardly holding his satchel on his lap.

Maybe he could hide in Hogsmeade when the others are going to the train in summer. They would only know when it’s too late. Maybe he could live in Hogwarts in the summer and if not… he could always hide in the forest. The centaurs seemed nice, maybe he could stay there for a while. 

“After our last talk, I had a conversation with Headmaster Dumbledore the very same day,” Professor Snape said calmly, pouring them a cup of tea each. He must have had it prepared before, Harry thought, because there was biscuits and this time the tea set wasn’t green and white but blue and white. Maybe he had the same set in different colours? Maybe one was for casual chats and the other for bad news…

“What did he say,” Harry asked and took one of the biscuits. If he had to go back, he could at least have biscuits first. Maybe he should think about hiding food somewhere else he could get to. Somewhere outside, maybe move all his staches somewhere else. He should ask Hermione about cooling charms… 

Professor Snape let out a deep sigh. “It seems like the Headmaster will not be aiding us in the battle for your custody.” 

Harry had expected this, but having his fears come true still felt like a punch to the stomach.

“But you promised,” he rasped, barely hearing his own voice over the blood rushing in his ears. “You promised I didn’t have to go back! You said you’d save me! You lied! You promised and you lied!” 

Harry had gotten to his feet without realising, satchel and biscuit had fallen down somewhere along the way.

Snape was saying something now, he could tell by the way his mouth was moving, but even if Harry would have been able to hear him, he didn’t think he would care about what a liar had to say. 

“You are all the same,” the boy said, choking on his tears, and stormed out of the office before Severus could get another word in. 

Severus sat in silence for a while after the door fell shut, letting white hot rage and frustration slowly build up.

“Fuck!” he yelled and threw his cup to the floor, shattering it into a hundred pieces.

He should have led with something else. He should have talked to the boy sooner. 

Another item to add to his long list of regrets and deficits. 

Severus deflated into his chair and waved his wand at the cup, letting it reassemble itself. He watched his magic work and, for the second time in as many weeks, filled a glass with expensive liquor from the cabinet in Spinner’s End. He would have to refill it come summer if trying to help Lily’s son kept driving him to drink. 

Maybe Petunia was right. Maybe he was like his father.

Chapter Text

Ignoring Professor Snape wasn’t nearly as hard as Harry would have expected. Keeping his eyes on his friends during meals was easy enough and leaving the classroom as one of the first students was easy too, now that he had no reason to lag behind and Snape didn’t make him stay after class. Even the numerous letters, delivered by a pretty barn owl, were easy to avoid. He simply pocketed the envelopes and never opened them. Easy as that. It must have been just as easy for the Professor, Harry figured, and now that it was Snape’s turn to get the silent treatment he was glad about it. 

With the beginning of the Christmas holidays and the Polyjuice Potion in its last stages, Harry felt the attacks would be wrapped up soon, too. He grudgingly admitted that knowing the creature was a basilisk was useful, but Snape, in the end, hadn’t turned out to be helpful at all. He was glad he didn't have to share the information they would get with their potion with him. Or tell him they were brewing it. He would just try and stop them anyway, though asking Malfoy a bunch of questions was hardly dangerous. And considering that Snape was a liar made it easy for him to break the deal they had made. A deal he hadn’t even told Hermione and Ron about. And now he didn’t plan to. 

Malfoy was bragging about the board of governors wanting to close the school and it was setting Harry on edge. He didn’t think he could come up with an escape plan before summer. He’d just be glad when this was over. They would gather enough evidence and hand it in to… well. That was the question, wasn’t it? Who could they trust? Not Snape, that was for sure. And not Professor Dumbledore, he couldn’t be trusted if he made Harry go back to the Dursleys. Professor McGonagall hadn’t believed them last year, maybe she would now, but especially with something as vital as this, he needed to be sure. If they convinced Neville first, maybe they could talk to Professor Sprout… Or Professor Flitwick? Not Lockhart, he was a blubbering idiot, and Harry didn't need Snape to tell him that.

Snape at least took him somewhat seriously. Maybe, if push came to shove, he would have to pick his battles and talk to Snape. But not today.

Today was Christmas and their dorm was empty except for Ron, who was still snoring in his bed, and him. 

Harry didn’t usually sleep for very long. Whether it was because of house work or school or letting out Hedwig or sharing a dormitory, Harry never really got to sleep in and at this point he wasn’t really trying anymore. Harry wasn’t even sure if he could sleep in. He didn’t mind so much when he was busy with getting ready for class, but in the early hours of the day when he had to be quiet and pretend he wasn’t there so his friends could sleep, he felt just like he did at home. In the bad way. 

He was startled out of his thoughts by the door opening. Someone walked in, not trying to be quiet, and opened the curtains on one of the windows. Harry was frozen to the spot. Behind the curtain on his bed, he couldn’t see who it was.

“Wake up!” Hermione said loudly Harry almost let out a sigh of relief. Who else could it have been?

“Are you allowed to be here?” Ron asked, sounding half asleep. 

Harry sat up and saw Hermione throwing presents at Ron. “Happy Christmas to you too.”

“No, I mean it!” Ron said, sounding slightly more lucid after a squishy present that could only be a Weasley jumper hit his head. “Aren’t there… Spells?” He asked smartly.

“There are,” Hermione confirmed. “They talk about it in Hogwarts: a History . But they are mostly about intent. And I am not about to hurt you or err…” She blushed rather uncharacteristically, “Do anything inappropriate, so it’s fine.” 

The boys scrunched up their noses at that and decided to focus on their presents.

On the very top of Harry’s pile was a thin muggle envelope. With a stamp of the Queen on it and everything. At first Harry thought it was empty, but then he found a toothpick and a note that had clearly been written on the pad by the kitchen telephone in Privet Drive. It simply asked him if it was possible for Harry to stay in school over summer, too. No signature. No greeting. Nothing else.

Harry’s fingers went numb.

He put the note aside, swallowing. It was best not to think about summer yet.

The next presents were rather nice. Hagrid had made him some rock hard treacle fudge, Ron had gotten him a book about a quidditch team, Hermione had gotten him a fancy quill with a metal nib. And from Molly Weasley there was a heartfelt note, a warm and cosy jumper and a tin with homemade sweets that actually wanted to be eaten. 

The last gift on the pile was wrapped in silver and green and attached to it was a note in neat and severe cursive: 

Please come talk to me when you find the time. I keep my promises. I hope you still enjoy my gift. 

Merry Christmas

Severus S. 

Inside the box was a small assortment of thoughtful things: A pair of quidditch gloves that looked to be real leather, a book about potions for broom care and a sneakoscope with an instruction card. 

A sneakoscope, it turned out, was a highly sensitive magical object. It looked like a spinning top made of glass and brass and it was rather easy to use. You simply put it on a flat surface and let it balance. If it stayed silent and still, all those around you were to be trusted. If it whistled and spun in place, someone around you was hiding something and depending on how big the lie and how close the liar, the sneakoscope whistled louder and spun faster. 

The things in front of him were… personal. 

Harry was stunned. 

He wiped a tear off his face and put the things back in the box. 

“From Professor Snape?” Hermione asked and Harry nodded. “Can I see?” 

He pushed the box to her and stared off into the distance for a while. He didn’t know what to feel about this, so he didn’t.

“Maybe it’s an apology,” Ron offered, between bites of homemade fudge cake. 

“It doesn’t have the word sorry in it,” Hermione said dryly.

“Maybe he says sorry in all the letters,” Ron offered, but sounded doubtful too.

They sat in silence for a while, as if the Christmas spirit had been sucked out of the air. 

The worst part was that Harry really liked the gifts. They were the best thing he had gotten. Hagrid and Molly had gotten him impersonal and generic gifts and that wasn’t bad. Any gift was good, but they weren’t for him , they were safe bets. Hermione had gotten him a reminder that his handwriting was awful with traditional quills and Ron had gotten him a book about a team Harry barely knew. He liked his gifts and he would treasure them every second, especially the food was important to him, but none of them were as specific to Harry as Snape’s gifts. Why did Snape have to be the only person on earth who actually saw him? 

“You know you don’t owe him anything, right, Harry?” Hermione asked softly, gently putting her hand on his arm. “These gifts are nice and you should use them, but accepting gifts is not a trade. He chose to make you gifts and you don’t have to give him anything back, not even forgiveness.” 

Harry sniffed and nodded, wiping at his face again. 

“I’ll… talk to him. After Christmas,” Harry decided.

“That’s a good idea,” Hermione said and smiled. “Can I hug you?” 

Harry nodded and Hermione hugged him tightly. 

In an abstract way Harry had known that they would need a piece of Crabbe and Goyle to finish the potion and that that would involve some sort of trickery. He didn’t, however, think that would involve drugging fellow students to steal their hair. But they hadn’t had a better idea and it was done now. At least he didn’t have to tell Snape about the crimes they commited today.

Looking at the viscous Goyle flavoured soup now, he questioned why he always had to feel responsible for all the troubles at Hogwarts. And why Crabbe and Goyle got to have cupcakes for dessert after the feast and he had to drink Person-Mud.

Harry closed his eyes, held his nose and bravely drank the Goyle sludge. 

Immediately he grew at least a foot in height and his shoulders were wider too. 

“Err,” He said in a voice way deeper than his own. He grimaced and even that felt odd. His cheeks and lips felt different. 

Harry took off his glasses, since Greggory Goyle didn’t seem to need them, and promptly looked at the shape of his hands. He hadn’t thought hands could look so different from person to person. Harry stepped out of the stall and found an equally confused looking Ron. A Crabbe looking Ron. 

“You look… tall…” Ron said. 

“And you look short,” Harry said, grinning. It was funny, having to look down at Ron.

The day before classes started again Severus was in his office, closing the public floo connection after Millicent Bulstrode, the last Slytherin to arrive at Hogwarts, had left his office for the dorms. 

His idle thoughts strayed towards Harry again. He was worried.

It was clear the boy wasn’t reading his letters and not even his speech about staying out of trouble had impressed the child, if his friends were experimenting with polyjuice potion.

Poppy, of course, hadn’t mentioned any of the details but Miss Granger was the only unpetrified occupant of the hospital wing at the moment and Severus was very capable of putting two and two together, when he was the one brewing the medicinal potions. 

He hadn’t approached Harry or even Miss Granger about it, since he didn’t want to destroy what little confidence in him they might have had left, but if Harry didn’t approach him by their next Potions Class, he would have to find an excuse to give him detention.

As if summoned by the threat of detention, a knock sounded at the door and it opened at Severus’ command.

“Hullo,” Harry said, sounding shy and sheepish as if he was about to be punished.

“Ah, Harry,” He said with a mild smile. “Have a seat.”

The child climbed on the chair opposite Severus’ desk and looked as if the teacher wanted to eat him.

“I don’t have any tea to offer you right now, as I’ve had many guests today, but I could send for some, if you wish?” 

Harry shook his head and didn’t seem to want to pick up the conversation, so Severus took the initiative.

“I have to apologize to you,” Severus said and the boy seemed surprised.

“I could have started with the more hopeful news in our last conversation. I understand that you have very little trust in me and that is quite understandable. I don’t think I realised how much of an impact it would have on you to tell you that the Headmaster would not be helping us. That is by no means an excuse, but an explanation. You don’t have to accept my apology, but I wanted to explain myself regardless.” 

Harry bit his lip and still didn’t say anything, but nodded nonetheless. 

“Good, with that out of the way I want to tell you what I have been meaning to tell you last time we met.

Regardless of whether Albus Dumbledore allows it, I am not letting you go back to that house. It goes against my responsibility as a teacher and as a friend to Lily Potter. I don’t know what exactly happened to you there, and I might never know the full extent of it, but you saying that you don’t want to go back is enough for me, do you understand?” 

Harry nodded and sniffed, his eyes looking a little glassy.

“Alright.” Severus gave him a thin, but warm smile. “It will have to stay a secret. You can of course tell Miss Granger and Ronald Weasley, but I ask you to keep it hidden from everyone else. To my knowledge, most established magical families with children in Gryffindor are close to the Headmaster, especially the Weasleys. They played a huge part in the war and are loyal to Headmaster Dumbledore, in my opinion, to a fault.” 

Harry took a deep breath and nodded. He had a calculating look on his face.

“Where will I stay?” Harry asked, finally speaking up.

“I am not quite sure yet. I will find a secure home for you with a Light family who has no connection to the Dark Lord and isn’t too close to the Headmaster. I am not that person, since I am directly employed by Albus Dumbledore and-” He paused. “I have an unfortunate connection to the Dark Lord. Not all rumours are true, but… most of them are not unfounded.” 

“You work for Voldemort?” Harry asked, wide eyed.

“It’s a complicated matter and we will talk about this, but not today. Rest assured that I am loyal to you and I keep my word as long as it doesn’t put lives under my protection in danger.” Severus smiled sadly. This wasn’t a satisfying answer and he could see on the boy’s face that he thought so too.

They stayed silent for a while, the wheels in Harry’s head turning. 

“What if I don’t like where you put me?” 

“Then you write me a letter. You have an owl, do you not?” 

“What if I am not allowed to send her?” 

“I can send Artemis to fetch your letters in regular intervals,” Severus offered.

There was another pause.

“What if my windows are barred again…” 

Severus hummed. “I see… I will come up with a solution to that. I’ll make sure you have a way to communicate in emergencies.” He paused and frowned. “And we’ll talk about what constitutes an emergency, too.” 

Harry nodded. “Thank you,” He said after a pause.

Severus had to look away for a moment. 

“It’s- it’s alright, Harry. It’s no trouble,” He lied. It was trouble, of course it was. But it was worth it.

Chapter Text

“So they were apologies!” Ron said, grinning triumphantly at Hermione.

The Trio sat on her bed in the Hospital Wing, Ron eating the get well chocolates that she had gotten from Professor Lockhart as Harry told his friends about his conversation with Professor Snape. 

Hermione still had whiskers and her eyes were still distinctly feline, but all other traces of her cat-cident had vanished. Except for the claws, maybe. Or maybe her nails were just long now.

“I’m glad you could resolve it. It was so mature of you to talk to him directly,” Hermione said sincerely, making Harry blush and look away.

“Don’t be patronising, ‘mione! Harry can be mature if he wants…” Ron said, scrunching his nose.

“Wow, Ronald, 'patronising' is an awfully big word,” She teased good naturedly and Ron stuck out his tongue at her. 

“I’m just glad he wasn’t trying to bribe me,” Harry said. “And I- it’s nice he’s so invested. Feels nice.” 

Ron nodded sagely, but Hermione frowned.

“If I had known it was so bad I'd have asked my mums to talk to the muggle authorities,” Hermione said and Harry smiled warmly at her. 

“I know, but I think having an adult… notice it without asking was kinda important, I think. Dunno if it makes sense but it’s… nice.” Harry said, nudging Hermione with his shoulder. “Don’t worry. It’s all good now.”

“I dunno, mate,” Ron frowned, pensively eating his chocolate. “It’s not going to be easy with Snape. I know he likes you now and I know he’s better, but I’m sure having him as a dad isn’t easy.” 

“He’s not my-! Ron! No! ” Harry spluttered. “I’m not even moving in with him!” 

Ron shook his head a little doubtfully. “You say that now…” He grinned. “Only joking, mate.” 

Harry groaned in frustration. The worst part was that Harry wouldn’t even mind if he did move in with Snape, but that was probably too much. Besides, it wouldn’t be safe.

Ron closed the empty box of chocolates. “I don’t think a teacher should give you chocolates, ‘mione,” he mused, looking at the box.

“I’m the best in his class,” Hermione countered, but sounded unsure too. 

“Yeah, but Professor McGonagall doesn’t give you chocolate. Or Professor Flitwick,” Ron pointed out and Hermione sighed. 

“I know… if he does it again I’ll go to Professor McGonagall, since you’ve eaten all the evidence,” she said, poking Ron in the ribs.

He squealed and tried to avoid her. “It’s not- Hey! It’s not like you wanted them- Stop! Thanks. It’s not like you wanted them to begin with.”

“I said you could have them, didn’t I?” 

“Yeah you did,” Ron grinned at her. “You saved me from starvation.”

Hermione smirked. “Now I finally see my Gryffindor side. How heroic of me.” 

Harry snorted. 

“But you two should probably go to dinner. I have a lot of classwork to catch up on and I don’t want either of you to starve.” 

Ron and Harry grinned and stood up. 

“We’ll see you tomorrow,” Harry promised, waving and Ron did too.

They both tried not to look at the petrified students and Nick who were occupying the other beds as they left the Hospital Wing. 

“Are you insane! It could be dangerous!” Ron said. Harry gave him a very doubtful look. 

“Don’t say that… and how could it be dangerous? It’s just a book.” 

“You’d be surprised with the curses people put on books!” Ron said. “Remember, my dad works with stuff like that, not the dangerous stuff mind, but there are books that won’t let you stop reading and books that make it so you can only speak in quotes from them!” 

“Alright, alright, I get it!” Harry said before Ron could start listing more books. He remembered the book that yelled at him in the Restricted Section of the library last year and had to agree. Magical books could be dangerous.

They stared at the wet diary on the bathroom floor.

“But…” Harry ventured carefully. “If we don’t touch it, we won’t learn anything about it.” 

“Maybe we should call a teacher,” Ron said doubtfully. 

“Don’t be daft. About a book? You sound like Hermione.” 

“ You sound like Hermione, getting all curious about a book!” 

“Maybe we should ask her, then. Maybe she knows some spells to see if it’s dangerous,” Harry suggested, but Ron shook his head.

“She can’t leave the Hospital Wing till February, remember?” 

“Right,” Harry said and they stared at the book on the bathroom floor some more. “I’m taking it.” He finally said and did just that.

The diary did nothing. It sat wet and cold in his hand and Harry looked at it with a raised eyebrow. “It’s muggle,” He said and Ron exhaled loudly. “Just an old calendar.” 

Harry flipped it open. Besides the printed-in dates from 1943, it was completely empty. There was a price sticker in pounds on the back and a neat, old fashioned cursive told him the diary had originally belonged to one T. M. Riddle.

“Hey! I know this guy!” Ron said, now looking over Harry’s shoulder.

“How? This thing is like… 50 years old.” 

“He got some reward, I think. I definitely saw his name polishing trophies in detention. Your father, too. He was chaser for Gryffindor.”

“You didn’t tell me that!” Harry accused. 

“I forgot! Until now.” Ron shrugged.

“Right. Maybe I should throw it away,” Harry said at the diary.

“I mean it’s kinda cool it’s so old, innit.” 

“But it’s wet .” 

Ron shrugged again. “Looks fine though.” 

“Err… Professor Snape?” Harry asked as Severus was checking the gently simmering potions and casting individual stasis charms over them.

“Harry?” He said, continuing his work.

“I think I found something important,” The boy said. “Can we talk? I have class now, but… I think it’s really important.”

Severus considered that for a moment and nodded. “Make up for missed time with Miss Granger. If it’s important we should talk immediately. Take a seat and I’ll finish up” 

Harry seemed surprised and relieved in equal measures. He sat down and put an old notebook on the table.

“I found this diary in Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom and it looks normal, but when I write in it, it writes back.” 

Severus stilled. He turned to look at Harry. “It writes back?” The boy nodded. “Is it intelligent?” 

“Think so… he seems smart.” 

Severus shook his head. “Let me rephrase. Does it seem like a person or like prepared answers and phrases?” 

“More like a person. He said it’s recorded memories.” 

Severus took a deep breath. “Let me finish this first. You’re right. This is important.” 

“You don’t know the half of it! Tom knows about the Chamber of Secrets!” 

The blood in Severus’ veins froze. “Tom?” 

“Yes, Sir. Tom Riddle. Says so on the diary.”

Several loosely connected pieces of knowledge rushed to the forefront of his mind and created a traffic jam in his head.

“I think… I think we’d better talk in my office.” 

Severus cast a bigger stasis bubble over the entire classroom and led Harry to his office. 

The boy was carrying the dreaded diary in his hand like any other book and put it on Severus’ desk.

“You found a diary belonging to Tom Riddle in the out of order girls bathroom of the second floor,” Severus prompted.

“Yes, Myrtle was upset because someone had thrown it in her toilet.” 

“And the diary is sentient and writes back?” 

“Yes, at first I was just trying to treat it like a diary, but it was kinda odd, like, what do you say to a diary, right? So I wrote ‘Hello’ and it wrote back. It asked me my name and the person said he was named Tom and then he said he was a recording of the events fifty years ago when the Chamber was opened last time.” 

Severus took silk gloves out of his desk drawer and put them on before gingerly touching the cursed object.

He would have been there for it, wouldn’t he, Severus thought. 

“Did he tell you of the memories?”

“He showed me!” Harry said, sounding excited and upset. “It’s Hagrid!”

“Hagrid.” Severus repeated, nonplussed. 

“That’s why he was expelled then, but they couldn’t prove anything and so he is doing it again! Maybe it’s not on purpose, but he likes dangerous creatures, maybe the Basilisk is out of control!” 

Severus could see some logic in this, but the child didn’t have all the information and Hagrid was maybe a bit naive, but not evil or grossly negligent. 

“ If this is true and Hagrid accidentally, as you say, set a Basilisk loose on the school, who wrote the message on the wall with the first attack?” 

Harry deflated, with relief and disappointment. “Right, it has to be on purpose. Hagrid wouldn’t do that.” 

“I agree,” Severus said. “But I am glad you gave me this.” He closed the diary again. 

“Maybe Tom lied.” Harry said. 

“He most certainly did,” Severus said slowly. “Tom Riddle is the given name of Lord Voldemort, Harry.” 

Harry gasped, eyes wide as saucers.

“We can be sure it was him who opened the Chamber. Then and now. And this-” He pointed at the diary, “is how.” 

“So the attacks will stop now?” Harry asked.

“They will indeed. I will find a way to destroy it and until then I will keep it in my office.” 

“Oh.” Harry said, looking a little dejected. “That’s good, then… somehow I thought it would be more… rewarding to solve all this.” 

“Not everything can involve epic battles, Harry,” He said dryly. “And our mystery isn’t over. We don’t know who brought the diary into the castle, or if it never left, where it was hidden. It’s likely that someone with similar ideals found it and used the knowledge in it to open the Chamber. Or, perhaps, someone else opened the Chamber and found the diary there. But these are not answers we can find today.” 

Harry nodded. “Right.” 

“I want to teach you something before you go,” Severus said and stood up. He walked up to a locked cabinet and took out a little vial. 

“In the art of potions everything you add to your mixture is an ingredient,” He said, falling into his teaching mode and summoned a glass as he sat down again. “Some enhance and some hinder the effect of the potion, some render it inert. But everything does something. Even water and air.” 

Harry watched as Severus filled the glass with water from thin air and heated it up with a wordless spell. 

“There are potions that can do sinister things, Harry, I’m sure you’re aware. The rules of hospitality make it hard to decline a cup of tea and they only become stricter as you age and see more and more of the magical society.” 

Severus added a tea bag to the steaming glass and tugged on it to make it steep faster. 

“Many potions with a water base don’t lose their potency in tea. Some even gain potency, and tea is a powerful plant that is part of many rituals.” He removed the tea bag, letting it disappear into the aether, and added two drops of potion into the glass. The dark drops matched the colour of the tea on impact and disappeared in the liquid without a trace. “A savvy potioneer can brew poisons specifically with tea in mind, but sugar complicates the matter.” 

Severus summoned the sugar tin and it added a spoonful to the glass. It dissolved briefly and recrystallised in bigger pieces at the bottom of the glass. 

“This doesn’t work if you add milk, because your tea will be opaque and you won’t be able to see it. Why this works is an N.E.W.T. level subject and we will discuss it then. For now, all you need to know is that most potions and poisons don’t like sugar and will try to absorb it but spit it out again, often in a different shape. It works with salt as well, but there aren’t very many occasions where you can inconspicuously add salt to your beverage.”

Severus smirked at Harry’s impressed face.

“Wow… who knew potions could be good for something!” Harry teased and grinned.

“Brat,” Severus said warmly. “Get to class, before I poison you.” 

“Yes, Sir. Can I have a note for Professor McGonnagal?” 

Severus summoned a paper and quill.

Chapter Text

“Miss Weasley,” Severus said and closed the diary. No spell he could think of harmed the book, not even the bare pages within. Ripping out pages was nigh impossible and when it did succeed,  they reattached themselves in no time. He had tried burning it by throwing it into the hearth. He had cooked it in water and, if the cursed object had been normal, the paper should have turned to pulp. Poisons and acids hadn’t yielded any results either and by now he had resorted to aimlessly firing spells at it, hoping whatever magic was protecting it would disintegrate with the wear. “Have a seat.” 

He put the diary in his desk drawer and turned the key. 

Miss Weasly sat quietly opposite him, pale as ever with dark circles under her eyes, watching him carefully. Severus summoned his blue tea set.

“Don’t worry, you’re not in trouble. I only want to ask you some questions.” 

The girl said nothing and simply looked at him, just as afraid as before. Severus was certain that she’d heard all sorts of stories about his evilness from her brothers, but he doubted that was the reason for her fear. 

“Tea?” The girl shook her head and Severus poured himself a cup. “It has come to my attention that, in the beginning of the school year, our cleaning staff found unusual amounts of chicken blood on your robes,” Severus stated calmly and Miss Weasley’s eyes widened. “Usually we would investigate things like that immediately, but between the attacks, I’m sure you understand that we only now had the time to ask you about it. Could you help me understand how blood came to be on your robes?” 

If at all possible Miss Weasley paled even more. “I don’t know, Sir,” She said softly, avoiding Severus’ gaze.

“I see… if you’re protecting someone who pranked you, let me tell you that the faculty would protect you from any retaliation from them,” Severus offered. Bullies pouring all sorts of liquids over their victims wasn’t unheard of, though blood was a bit grotesque. Even for Potter Senior’s ilk or the dreaded Weasley twins.

“I honestly don’t know, Sir,” Miss Weasley repeated, her eyes looking glassy.

Silence spread across the room and Severus tapped his fingers against the cup.

An ornate mantle clock ticked loudly. It was a new addition to his office; a Christmas present from Narcissa, but if it was this loud, it would sooner or later have to go. It was pretty, though. Elegant. Maybe a silencing charm to contain the ticking would do? Toggle-able wards, perhaps? The exact timing of a ticking clock could be useful for more delicate potions.

“I-” Miss Weasley said, but stopped as Severus’ eyes zeroed in on her. “I’ve been having these… moments…”

Severus said nothing, giving her space to sort her thoughts. 

“I get ready in the morning… and suddenly I’m in a hallway and it’s afternoon… sometimes I can’t remember entire days,” She whispered, tears welling up in her eyes. 

“Have you told anyone about this?” Severus asked. “Madam Pomfrey, perhaps?” 

She shook her head. “I tried telling Harry, but everytime I try-” She stopped and tears started rolling down her face.

“Thank you for telling me, Miss Weasley, I am glad you trusted me with this. Losing time can mean many things. It could be trauma or spell damage, I have no way of knowing. It would be best if you talked to the Matron about your memory loss. I will, of course, not tell anyone about this unless it becomes dangerous to you or someone else.” 

Miss Weasley nodded.

“Was the instance with the chicken blood one such moment?” Severus asked to be sure.

“Yes, I was just–”

“Severuuuus!” A voice called from his classroom.

“Excuse me for a minute,” Severus said, already annoyed.

“Gilderoy.” Severus greeted coldly, standing in the doorway between his office and his classroom. “I am in a conversation with a student, so if you don’t mind…”

His colleague evidently took this as an invitation and strutted further into the classroom. He was wearing a combination of pastel colours and patterned fabrics that would make a rococo man blush under all that toxic face powder. Salazar, how he wished Gilderoy would try lead in his face powders. 

“Ah, Severus, old friend! Always so diligent with work,” Gilderoy Incompetence Lockhart sat down on the table directly in front of Severus. “One day you’ll work yourself to death, you know.” 

“Not today. Unfortunately.” 

Gilderoy laughed loudly and artificially. “And they say you don’t have a sense of humour, old bat.”

“Do you need something? I am busy, as I said.” Severus grated out through gritted teeth. 

“I’m sure you are. It’s good to know you’re in contact and have an ongoing conversation with the students. You always seemed so… common on dit ? Cold? Stand off-ish? Uncaring? When I was a student. I am so glad that has changed, Severus. You know, now that I am a Professor myself, I really appreciate your strictness in a way I couldn’t as a student,” Severus’ walking nightmare said emphatically.

“Is that so,” Severus replied evenly. 

“I find myself emulating you in class. You really know how to keep those little rascals in line, Severus.” Gilderoy smiled at him in a wide, horse-like grimace.

“Quite.” 

“Sometimes I find it’s harder to keep a class quiet than to fight a werewolf!” He burst into horrible laughter again.

Severus didn’t join in. 

“Perhaps you should keep doing that then. Give teaching a rest.” Severus suggested not so subtly.

“Yes, I will – after my year is over. But Severus, as you have no doubt read in my books…” He paused, probably to give Severus time to contradict. He did not. “I have gathered experience on my travels – despite my age – and with your tutelage in my youth, I feel it’s my pleasure, nay duty , to offer my help with the potion to revive our petrified students.” He grinned again.

Severus’ lips curled into a grimace. 

“That won’t be necessary. I work best on my own. Many brewers spoil the batch and all that. Thank you for your offer, but I have prepared everything I can and at this stage the potion only needs the adult mandrakes. Until then there is nothing you could contribute.” 

“What a shame!” Gilderoy exclaimed, clapping his hands together as if he was Disney’s animated Snow White.

“Yes. Now, if you don’t mind, I have a student in my office.” 

“Alright Severus, old friend. I will see you around.” 

Severus watched Gilderoy leave, making sure the incompetent fool didn’t steal anything on his way out, and finally turned around to face his office. 

The door to the hallway stood open and the chair Miss Weasley had occupied was empty. 

Severus frowned. His desk drawers stood open and the diary was gone.

Severus could kick himself. What use was a lock if he left the key in it? But he had to act quickly now. If he wanted to stop the next attack he would have to be more proactive. If the Dark Lord had been the last student to open the Chamber of Secrets, there was a chance one needed Parseltongue to do it. 

He was just calling his owl and about to write a note to summon Harry when the Trio burst into his office.

“Pipes!” Miss Granger said instead of a greeting and all three of them started talking at once.

“Stop!” Severus interrupted their well of information. “One at a time.” He pointed at Miss Granger. “You start.” 

“It’s the pipes! I was reading Hogwarts: a History because my owl order just came. See, I had to order my own copy, because in the beginning of the year it was a pain to get it in the library because everyone was interested all of a sudden and the waitlists were so long, but this copy–” She put her book on his desk. “My copy is a newer edition than in the library and so this section…” She flipped through the pages to reveal a chapter about the Magical Sewer System in Hogwarts. “...has pictures now! And that’s when it hit me. The pipe system in Hogwarts is bigger and more elaborate than in a muggle house. It’s more like for a city, I think. Adults can walk upright in there and then some! It’s easily big enough to fit a Basilisk! That’s how a giant monster snake managed to crawl into the rest of the castle and back to the Chamber again without anyone noticing!” Miss Granger grinned triumphantly, panting a little after her speech. 

“Ten points to Gryffindor. Excellent work,” Severus said, looking at the cavernous pipe system pictured in the book. “Now we can investigate the bathrooms and drains. I suggest starting with the Prefect bathroom, as it’s the biggest.” 

“Wait!” Harry said excitedly. “When did Myrtle die?” 

“What? Why?” Mister Weasley asked, but Miss Granger was already flipping the pages to the section on ghosts. 

“We know of one girl that was killed last time the Chamber was open. What if she was murdered in a bathroom?” Harry said darkly.

“And what if she never left!” Mister Weasley supplemented. 

“In the 1940s!” Granger said, seemingly having missed the rest of the conversation. “And Riddle’s diary was from 1943.”

Their excitement was halted by a silver-blue tabby cat jumping on Severus’ table and speaking in Minerva’s voice. 

"All staff, meet in the lounge in ten minutes. Severus, count your Slytherins.” The tabby dissolved into thin air just as another message echoed through the halls.

“All students are to go to their common room until further notice.” 

The Trio looked at Severus as if they expected him to contradict the deputy Headmistress’ orders. 

“I will come and get Harry when it’s time to investigate the Chamber, but until then go to your common room,” Severus said and the Trio’s energy visibly faded. 

Severus raised an eyebrow at them, herding them to the exit. “Did you think I would take a group of school children with me on an expedition to fight a Basilisk?” They had the decency to look ashamed at least. 

“Gryffindors will be the death of me,” He said to a nonexistent god. “Get lost, I have Slytherins to count.” 

He shoo’ed the pesky children out of his office and locked the door behind himself.

Filius was the last to arrive in the staff lounge. “All my Ravenclaws are accounted for,” He said, breathing heavily and wiping his forehead.

“Thank you. Then that confirms it,” Minerva said gravely. “The culprit has left another message for us to find. Right under the other. They have taken Ginevera Weasley into the Chamber of Secrets.” 

A wave of gasps and mutters went through the staff. 

“If she can’t be found the school will have to be closed until the Chamber is located and secured. The Headmaster will do everything in his power, but… I recommend those of you who remain in the castle over the summer make arrangements.” 

None of the teachers and staff spoke as they returned to their quarters and houses to inform the students, but Severus lingered behind.

“Minerva,” Severus said as she was about to leave. “A word.” 

“Severus, you know I always have a guest room for you.” 

He smiled. “I inherited my childhood home from my father and an ancestral house from my mother. I’ll make do, but thank you.” 

“Of course.” Minerva said. 

“I have reason to believe the access to the Chamber of Secrets hides in the haunted lavatory in the second floor.”

Minerva’s eyes widened behind her glasses.

“I will attempt to retrieve Miss Weasley,” He said with conviction. “I need someone to know where we are.” 

“Severus! You can’t go on your own!” Minerva said. “This is foolhardy at best !” 

“I am not unprepared. I have antidotes and a wand. There is no other way.” 

“Take someone with you at least,” Minerva said uncomfortably.

“Who do you suggest? Filius, on his old days? Do you think Sybill will dare? Albus? Do you want to join me?” He shook his head. “I will do this alone. Send for me if I’m not back in an hour.” 

Minerva sighed. “Be careful. We don’t want to lose you.” 

Severus almost rolled his eyes. “I am not one of your Gryffindors.” 

Chapter Text

“Do you think it’s one of the toilets?” Harry asked, looking at the stalls doubtfully.

“Hardly. In order for it to be an entrance, I believe it needs to be out of order,” Professor Snape said.

“Most of this is out of order every other week. With Myrtle running amok in here and everything,” Harry muttered, looking around. Maybe one of the drains said ‘Hello, I am Evil’ if you looked hard enough.

“Gossiping isn’t very nice,” Myrtle said and ascended poutily from behind one of the stalls. 

“Well, you do wreck the toilets, don’t you,” Harry shrugged and Myrtle blushed ghostily.

“Myrtle, are there any drains in here that have never worked?” Professor Snape interrupted.

“Severus!” She said as if she had just noticed him. “You never visit me anymore! You used to hide here all the time, remember?” 

“Yes,” Professor Snape said dryly. “Not my fondest memories. You understand, surely.” 

Myrtle sighed and frowned. “Everyone always leaves me!”

“Could you tell us if any of the drains have always been broken, Myrtle?” Harry repeated the question and Myrtle gave another big sigh.

“Well, I don’t know why you would care…” She made a big show of rolling her eyes. “But one of the sinks… has never really worked.” She pointed at the column with sinks and dulling mirrors arranged around it.

“That could easily hide an entrance,” Professor Snape said and walked around it, testing the different faucets. Most of them squeaked and for some the water was suspiciously red, but one of them didn’t turn on at all.

“What’s that?” Harry asked, looking past the Professor and pointing at a scratch in the dirty brass. “An ‘S’ maybe?” 

“Could be,” Professor Snape said, stepping back and turning to Harry. “Take out your wand.” 

Harry did and looked at his Professor questioningly. 

“Repeat after me: protego .” 

“ Protego,” Harry cast, but nothing happened.

“Flick your wrist downward.” 

Harry repeated it and felt a warm rush running through his arm. 

“Good. If something is coming towards you, cast protego. It won’t protect you from everything, but plenty of things, understood?” 

Harry nodded.

The Professor nodded too. “Then, perhaps try speaking to the faucet.” 

“...I’ve never spoken Parseltongue on purpose before,” Harry muttered.

“How did you do it the other times?” 

Harry shrugged. “I just did it. I thought I was speaking English.”

Professor Snape hummed. “Perhaps you should just give it a try. Speak to the faucet.”

Harry stayed quiet, trying to think of things to say to a tap of all things. Professor Snape raised an eyebrow at him.

“What do I say to a tap?” 

“Tell it to open, as a first attempt. If that doesn’t work we can try telling it you’re Slytherin’s heir.” 

Harry nodded and took a deep breath. “Open!” 

Nothing happened. 

“That was English, wasn’t it.”

“Perhaps try focusing on the ‘S’. The magic might help. Or picture a snake in your head,” His Professor advised and Harry split the difference and pictured the ‘S’ as a snake. If he tilted his head and narrowed his eyes, it looked like a little black adder laying on sand.

“ Open up!” He said and this time he could tell he was hissing it.

The sinks moved apart and Professor Snape pulled him out of the way as a hole in the ground opened up, revealing a huge wet pipe.

They stared down into the abyss.

“I think we have to slide down,” Harry said and the Professor frowned. 

“If we slide, we have no way of coming back up again.”

“We have no time to get brooms,” Harry thought out loud. 

Professor Snape nodded and muttered something, raising his wand. He held up his hand expectantly and, after a painfully long silence, two brooms came clattering against it. 

“Remember to keep your eyes cast down and to look away from the head. When we get down, I want you to stay out of the way and as far away as possible from anything we encounter there, am I clear?” The Professor said sternly, while holding the brooms out of Harry’s reach.

“Yes, Sir,” Harry said distractedly, eyeing the brooms. They were school brooms, an old Comet and a relatively up to date Cleansweep. Generation five or even six?

“What did I say?” Professor Snape asked, holding the brooms further away.

“Stay out of the way, don’t look at the Basilisk,” Harry repeated obediently and grinned when his Professor handed him the Cleansweep. 

“But can I talk to it?” Harry asked as they mounted their brooms and Professor Snape led him down the dark tunnel with his wand light held in front of them.

“If you can keep your eyes away from it and don’t get yourself murdered or maimed, you can do whatever want,” Professor Snape said darkly. 

“Because I’ve been thinking,” Harry started carefully. Not many people liked hearing about his interests. And sure enough, his Professor replied with a muttered oh boy,  though that might not have been directed at him. 

They had reached a crossroads, or crosspipes rather. A central hub of sorts, with many round tunnels like the one they had come from leading away in all directions. Huge snake skins and little bones littered the floor in heaps with patches of fur and other indigestible parts.

“What have you been thinking,” The Professor asked and Harry reorganised his thoughts.

“Right, I think it’s weird only one person was killed.” 

“I think it’s rather lucky,” Professor Snape said, frowning.

“Sure, it’s lucky . Too lucky, I think. Think about it. A murderous snake lives in a castle packed with people, in a room with a Parselmouth door, for hundreds of years and only comes out twice? When there’s delicious, warm blooded beings up there? Only a door away? A door with snake-language security?” 

His professor dismounted the broom and looked at him. 

“That’s an interesting observation. Do you want to ask the Basilisk about it?” 

Harry landed next to him and grinned. “Yeah. Maybe I can let another snake loose on my cousin. Or snake-like creature…” 

“You can tell me that story later,” Professor Snape said with what the Professor probably called a smile. “I want you to get on your broom as soon as we enter the Chamber itself. You can dodge better in the air.” 

“Is this not it?” 

“I doubt it. I think we will reach a door or gate of some sort soon.” 

“Oh.”

They walked in silence for a while and Harry looked at the snake hides and all the rubble and bones, thinking about snakes. 

“How can a snake with murder-eyes move without killing anything?” Harry thought out loud.

“How do you mean?” 

“Well they can’t close them, can they? How can you hunt without turning everything that looks back at you, prey or not, into solid rock.”

“I suppose.... Perhaps the Basilisk isn’t as selective with its prey… Or the attacks are carefully planned, since there have been no witnesses who haven’t been petrified, and all who have were muggleborn,” Professor Snape said.

Harry snorted. “Can’t be very selective in the sewers, can you. But up in the school it could be, only it doesn’t go there. Not without an heir at least.”

“That we know of,” Professor Snape said but Harry shook his head.

“We'd know if a snake was snacking on students. They can’t move that fast after eating. We'd have snake nap time in the halls every couple months. You know what’s cool about reptiles? Or some at least?” Harry asked excitedly.

“I have a feeling you’ll tell me,” Professor Snape said with a half smile.

“Their eyes! Some lizards have two sets of eyelids. Like slow worms!” Harry grinned even wider. “And I think the Basilisk is a legless lizard. Or maybe more like a legless salamander, which are actually amphibians, which would make sense with the whole toad and chicken egg thing… Though putting an amphibian on a reptile egg doesn’t make an amphibian from a reptile… I guess magic could do that maybe.” 

“How did you reach that conclusion?” The Professor asked.

“What?”

“The salamander or lizard conclusion.” His Professor approximated a smile.

“Oh, right, well, snakes can’t blink.” He repeated. “Or they blink the whole time, if you think about it. They have a little scale to protect their eyes and that thing isn’t usually moveable, except when they shed the skin. If the thing can’t blink, it either can’t eat, because stone isn’t digestible and they kill-petrify everything in their path, because they move head first, ooor–” Harry paused to breathe. “They only partly petrify everything because the brille – that’s the scale on their eyes – is constantly covering their eyes. Judging by all that,” He pointed around the room at the clumps of undigested bones and fur. “The Basilisk isn’t eating stone and we know for a fact that the Basilisk can kill… it’s like its whole thing.” 

“So you think the eyelid that some amphibians and reptiles have to protect them from the elements protects the Basilisk’s prey from getting turned to stone?” The Professor sounded amazed.

“Yes. It’s just a theory, but otherwise everything would be full of things the Basilisk looked at. Like petrified flies. They look everywhere. ” 

“Good point.”

Harry thought about salamanders and lizards some more. Maybe that’s why the chicken egg needed a toad to work? Could Basilisks even reproduce on their own? Would Chicken-Basilisks be different from Basilisks with Basilisk parents? Could they reproduce asexually? What if a toad sat on a Basilisk egg? Did they have a sex at all? Maybe they could change it like frogs? Did the sex-flipping even work on toads?

“This is the door,” Professor Snape said, shaking Harry out of his thoughts.

Two intertwined serpents with glittering green eyes blocked the path a little further ahead. 

“Mount your broom and stay out of the way.” The Professor instructed and took Harry's hand, looking right at him. “I like your theory and when this is over we can test it. I promise you that if we make it out alive and sane we will find out if the Basilisk is a snake or a legless newt–”

“Salamander or lizard! Newts are something specific.”

 “Yes. I’m sorry. Salamander or lizard, of course. But please don’t test it now. Look away from the head, stay out of the way and dodge. Promise me you won’t test your theory alone.”

“I promise I won’t test it and I promise I’ll stay away as best as I can,” Harry said earnestly. 

“Good. Mount your broom.” The Professor patted his shoulder and Harry did as he was told.

He let the broom rise up a little and faced the door. This time it was easier to imagine snakes with these huge stone serpents right there.

“ Open up! ” He said for the second time today and the door opened.

Chapter Text

The serpent doors opened and revealed a long chamber, reminiscent of the ship of a cathedral save for the gothic arches. Snakes and serpents decorated the walls and even the tiles were curved to give the impression of a slithering floor. To the sides the ground was slanted, leading to a deepening with water. Not only did that make the room brighter by reflecting the light of the torches all around it, but it also made the central space in the Chamber feel like a stage. Or a serving tray. 

Directly opposite the entrance towered a statue of Salazar Slytherin, overlooking the Chamber with his stern gaze and upright posture. 

In the middle lay Miss Weasley on the cold damp floor, the diary open next to her.  A young Lord Voldemort idly twirled her wand in his hands, leaning against the legs of the statue, watching the new arrivals come closer with narrowed eyes. He was blurry around the edges and even his robes were sickly pale.

Severus stepped into the Chamber, leaving his broom behind. Harry was following him slowly on his broom.

“Don’t go running to her,” Severus said softly and, out of the corner of his eye, he saw Harry nodding.

They slowly approached Miss Weasley and Severus kept an eye on Tom Riddle as he checked her pulse. He cast a silent protego over her in hopes it would keep her safe, at least from further physical damage.

“She’s alive,” He said to Harry, and finally Riddle moved.

Tom righted himself gracefully and with slow steps made his way towards them, taking his time. 

“Not for long,” He said in a cool voice and Severus found that it was significantly harder to take Lord Voldemort seriously when he was a sixteen year old brat. “She'll need help soon.” 

Something about this sanctimonious statement made something in Severus boil over. That pretence wouldn’t fly. He might have been able to fool him in the past, when Severus had been lonely and impressionable, but he was over that. He had been for decades now. This snotty nosed brat needed to learn a lesson and Severus was not about to spare a memory.  He would end his miserable existence.

Severus raised an eyebrow. “Nothing a good night’s rest and a Pepperup can’t fix.” 

He casually picked up the diary and wiped his sleeve over it as if to dry it, though the water didn’t have much of an effect on it. The pages weren’t even wet, really. “Wouldn’t want to get it wet, would we?” Severus said nonetheless, and Riddle’s eyes lit up red with anger. He vanished and reappeared significantly closer to Severus.

“That’s not yours,” The blurry figure hissed. 

“Yours, is it?” Severus mocked, flipping through the pages and casually walking backwards to get some distance between them. “Are you the esteemed T. M. Riddle? Are you certain, because last time I checked, and I did check, you were fifty and dead .”

The diary shade seemed taken aback and sized Severus up. 

“Who are you then? A Hogwarts professor?” He sneered. “You’re not Lockhart, are you?” 

Severus smirked. “And to think I once respected you. You’re just a hateful little brat. A snot nosed teenager. The kind that get a T on their assignment and then bully first years about it. Is that why you chose Miss Weasley? To bully little kids?” 

The teenager was steaming and fuming with anger. All that charm and beauty people who knew him in his youth cited was nowhere to be found.

“You even made a little club with a silly name to bully kids better. Had them tattoo themselves and swear their life to you.” Severus laughed, sounding a bit unhinged now. “You hateful little rat. Let’s see if we can’t get this thing destroyed.” 

He pulled a potion out of his robe pocket and looked at the label. “What do we have here? Draught of the Living Dead. Fancy a drink, Tom?” He pulled the stopper with index finger and thumb, holding the vial in the same hand. “I promise it’s an excellent vintage,” He said and poured the poison over the open pages. As expected it had no effect other than disturbing the still blurry looking fascist teen.

“You’re unhinged!”

“Quite so, Mister Riddle. Another drink?” He revealed a little blue bottle and his face lit up. “Aah, my life’s work. My best creation yet, I think. It’s somewhat of an homage to Veritaserum, the potion I owe my,” He tilted his head from side to side, considering the phrasing. “Relative freedom to.” He grinned at Tom. “Have you figured out what it does? It makes you spill your guts! Literally! A marvellous play on words, don’t you think?”

Severus made deliberate eye contact and poured the potion over the diary.

But Riddle didn’t even flinch. The pages darkened, ink welling to the surface for only a moment and disappearing again, leaving the diary as it was before.

“You’re Severus Snape.” Riddle said calmly.

“Aren’t you a smart one. What gave it away? The potions? Get up to speed Tom, you’re getting murdered here. Show some respect at least. Fascinating how much I enjoy this, I must say. It almost feels like the real deal. You ruined my life, Tom, I’ve earned this!”

“You’re one of my Death Eaters. I heard all about you from my faithful Malfoy servant. You turned against me,” Tom said, sounding amazed and a little hurt. 

“I am your end, Tom, if anything. Narcissa doesn’t know me half as well as she thinks. You may fancy yourself a miniature Hitler–and in the middle of the war no less! Show some patriotism! Are you not ashamed? Whatever happened to ‘King and Country’, Tom?” He shook his head, clicking his tongue. “But you might have noticed that I’m not very fond of you. Neither version of you. Dying and fifty or hateful and twelve…” He sneered.

“I am getting sick of this,” Tom said and he did look impatient. 

“Ah, but don’t you want to know how I came to hate you? No? Well then – Avada Kedavra! ” 

Tom’s form disappeared just in time for the green light to miss him and hit a snake ornament on the wall behind him. Severus didn’t think it would have had much of an effect on the shade anyway, but it condensed all his anger and hate and regret, every conflicted emotion he had bottled up since he was sixteen, nicely into one little green flash of death. 

Riddle reappeared closer to Severus with Ginevra’s wand raised and aimed at him. “You can’t kill me! If you could, you would have by now!”

“Are you sure, Tom? Because I have a deep need for catharsis, and you look just close enough to real that I might just get it.” Severus’ potential for cruelty had always been high and maybe this was the last chance he would get to be truly evil. Maybe he just needed to get it out of his system once and for all. “ Sectum Sempra! ” 

Tom dodged effortlessly. He had his stolen wand raised but had yet to cast. Severus had seen the Dark Lord duel before and never had he ever let himself become the defensive party. It was simply not his style.

Maybe diary shades couldn’t cast spells, Severus thought, but if that was the case, this exercise was useless. He needed Riddle’s attention long enough, until he could figure out how to kill him, while doing it fast enough so Miss Weasley didn’t die of whatever Riddle had done to her. Or pneumonia.

“You’re going to regret this, Severus,” Riddle said with a calm smirk, before saying something in Parseltongue.

“That’s Professor Snape to you,” He yelled and blasted a hole into the ground Tom was standing on. Riddle didn’t even trip. 

So the rules of Physics didn’t apply to him. That complicated things.

The mouth of Salazar Slytherin opened like a grotesque ventriloquist's puppet and Severus averted his gaze to look at Riddle.

“Your spells can’t hurt me. If you knew how to kill me you would have done it. If you were toying with me you wouldn’t have let the brat stay.” 

Severus narrowed his eyes.

Riddle smirked. “That’s right, I haven’t forgotten about him. It was smart to give him the extra dimension with the broom–I hear he’s quite the flyer, but my Basilisk is tall and you can’t hurt me. You’re no match for Lord Voldemort.”

Severus laughed at him and Riddle’s image flickered. “Your name is even sillier when I see the child that made it up right in front of me. I was an edgy teen once, I relate, but boy, I at least didn’t make my friends call me by my made up names.”

The Basilisk, meanwhile, had calmly slithered into the Chamber and was now taking up a lot of floor space. Severus was about to congratulate himself again on the broom idea when the shadow on the floor showed the beast raising its head like a king cobra.

Harry followed the length of the serpent all the way to the tail—and what a tail it was! More than a quarter of the entire body was tail and the hard to spot discoloration on a slow worm was easy to see here because of the sheer size of it. 

The entire body of the creature was covered in scales but they were oddly smooth, not like the snakes he had handled before. There weren’t very many snakes in Surrey, but somehow Harry attracted them and he liked talking to them, picking them up and looking at pictures and diagrams of them at the library. Harry sometimes lay awake thinking about snakes and everything snake-like at night, wishing he could look at the worn library books, so yes. Harry knew his snakes. This was not one.

The way it moved reminded Harry distinctly of slow worms, but there was no way to really tell the movement apart without looking at the head. But even without seeing the face Harry was sure. This was a lizard. No ring shaped scales like on legless amphibians, these were smooth and it had a tail. This was a lizard if Harry had ever seen one.

The majestic creature reared up its head and he flew in closer to stay out of range of the eyes. Even if it was a lizard and even if it could blink, there was no guarantee the King of Serpents didn’t want him dead.

“Kill the boy!” Tom Riddle hissed and the lizard was now just as interested in Harry as Harry was in it.

“No!” Harry yelled. He couldn’t tell if it had been English or Parsel, but either way the lizard didn’t care. It seemed to obey Tom and tried its best to lunge at Harry. 

Harry, however, was the youngest seeker in a century and flying was the only thing he was good at. Maybe this wasn’t his Nimbus, but he was still faster than an overgrown lizard with no legs.

“ You don’t want to eat me, I’m all bones! Hardly worth the energy!” Harry hissed at the lizard, but it didn’t seem impressed.

“ The heir says to kill you. You’re not food.”

“ Yeah?” Suddenly Harry had a gazillion questions about what Basilisks ate. “ What’s your favourite food then? Mine’s pizza. Though, I barely ever get any,” He was panting heavily and seriously doubting that flying and talking at the same time was a good idea.

The lizard was ignoring him and Harry thought it was probably for the best until he caught his breath again.

Professor Snape let unfamiliar curses rain on Tom and the diary. Tom had given up on dodging entirely and the flashing colours passed right through him, destroying the masonry behind him. 

“You know I didn’t want to let it come to this,” Tom said, trying to sound important. 

“Incendio!” Professor Snape yelled, with no result. 

Harry saw out of the corner of his eye that Tom was raising his wand as he dodged another lunge from the lizard. 

“ Confringo! ” Riddle said calmly and Professor Snape jumped aside with a laugh, letting the wall behind him take the spell.

“So you can duel!” Professor Snape called and adopted what Harry thought must be a duelling stance, before casting curses and spells in rapid fire. Riddle didn’t let the curses as much as graze his form anymore and instead deflected and blocked them skillfully. Harry recognized Expelliarmus and Protego every now and then, but everything else he hadn’t heard before. Some of the spells even seemed to be cast entirely without words. He didn’t really have time to watch them though.

The Basilisk was standing still in the middle of the Chamber, no doubt watching Harry intently, waiting for a chance to attack. Or maybe not, there was no way for Harry to know. He tried to fly in unpredictable patterns while keeping the head of the lizard behind himself and looking at the shadow of the creature on the floor and walls.

“ Do you like mice? Or rats? My friend Ron has a pet rat, but he looks sickly. The rat, not Ron,” Harry said, trying to pick the conversation back up. Riddle shot him an irritated glance when Harry turned a corner and the duelists returned to his field of view.

“ I eat those who wander into my lair,” The Basilisk said cryptically and Harry grimaced. 

“ Why am I not food then? Isn’t this your lair? Do you have your own Bat Cave? A Bas-Cave?” 

The Basilisk ignored him again, the reference was probably too much for it and Harry didn’t blame it. He wasn’t sure he really understood comics either.

A spell grazed Professor Snape's right arm, not his wand arm luckily, but he dropped the diary and Harry could tell that Tom was trying to steer them both so he could get to it. 

They both seemed so focused on each other and the diary was on the floor between them, with Tom getting closer and closer. 

Harry bit his lip. Suddenly, he remembered something Professor Snape had said earlier when they had stood in Myrtle’s bathroom. 

He focused on the tail of the lizard, envisioning the snake in the zoo from years ago.

“I am Slytherins’ heir,” Harry shouted in a last attempt at conversation. “I am the Heir of Slytherin, and I command you to eat the diary!”  

Harry prayed that reptiles knew what diaries were and he prayed that the serpent couldn’t tell if he was related to Slytherin or not. He closed his eyes for a split second and when he heard the sound of movement, he opened them to the Basilisk lunging between the duelists, taking curses to the side, and landing between them. 

Harry couldn’t see if the Basilisk had eaten it, but he saw the shadow of the head rearing back, the jaw opening and snapping shut once more. The creature lowered its head and pulled it back. Professor Snape jumped backwards, fleeing from the erratic flailing movements of a serpent in agony. 

“ No! ” Harry cried. “ I didn’t mean to hurt you!” The creature writhed in obvious pain and Harry wiped his cheek with his sleeve.

Harry sobbed when the lizard stopped moving.

Opposite Professor Snape, Tom Riddle flickered out of existence, Ginny’s wand clattering to the floor.

Everything was still for several minutes as they waited for the lizard to move or Tom to re-appear.

“Harry?” Ginny asked, wiping her eyes.

“I think it’s dead,” Professor Snape said softly and Harry landed next to Ginny.

“I’m so sorry!” Ginny said and Harry hugged her tightly.

“I’m so glad you’re ok,” Harry mumbled into her shoulder.

“I didn’t mean to hurt anyone,” Ginny said, tearing up.

“No one blames you,” Professor Snape said calmly. “Older and more experienced people have fallen for Riddle’s charm. You cannot be blamed for your actions.” 

Ginny peeled herself out of Harry’s embrace and wiped her cheek. “I thought I could handle it on my own… and when I couldn’t… I–I didn’t know how to ask.”

“No one got hurt, everything will be ok,” Harry said, taking her hands.

“But Colin and Justin!” 

“Mister Creevey and Mister Finch-Fletchley will be perfectly fine. It is now only a matter of weeks until the Mandrakes have matured enough. They will be well in time to watch everyone take their exams,” Professor Snape assured.

Ginny nodded and Harry squeezed her hands. 

“I think it’s best if we return to the castle. I’m sure Missus Weasley is already waiting for us,” Professor Snape said and summoned his own broom. 

Chapter Text

“The only mystery that remains is the origin of Tom Riddle’s diary and how it came into Miss Ginevra’s hands,” Albus said calmly. 

“It was with my books that we got in Diagon Alley,” Ginevra replied softly. She was pressed against the side of her mother, who had a protective arm wrapped around her. On Missus Weasley's other side Harry sat smushed against her in a similar fashion. The Weasley Matriarch was glaring daggers at Albus Dumbledore and holding both children as if the Headmaster was about to make them face a Basilisk all over again.

Ginevra’s hair was still damp and they were both wearing comfortable weekend clothes instead of their uniform, with mugs of hot cocoa in their hands.

Poppy had wanted to keep them both in the hospital wing for observation but had eventually agreed to let them discuss the events in Albus’ office under her supervision, rather than risk exposing the petrified students (and ghost) to the traumatic events.

“Riddle mentioned a loyal Malfoy servant when we were duelling,” Severus said and Albus’ expression darkened almost comically.

“We did encounter Lucius Malfoy in Diagon Alley that day,” Arthur Weasley added.

“Ah yes, the brawl incident at Flourish and Blotts. A convenient situation that would have provided adequate cover. That would explain it, indeed.” Albus nodded gravely. “I believe that is all loose ends tied up and all mysteries explained. Moving on, we are left with several more mundane questions: After this strenuous event, I think it is only fair for Miss Ginevra to spend several days at home to rest up. 

Then there is the matter of exams. Considering that you have lost quite a significant amount of time, perhaps you should talk to your professors and see if you feel capable of taking the exams. If not, I’m sure you can create a substitute together with your professors. Perhaps even something to be handed in in the summer?” Albus looked at Severus, who nodded. 

“Very good. Poppy, would you allow Ginevra to go home?” Albus asked and the Matron frowned at him, before looking at Ginevra.

“I would like to keep her overnight. If there are no symptoms by tomorrow, she can rest at home.”

Albus smiled at her, but Poppy didn’t return it.

“Then, finally, I would like to have a word with Harry. Severus, be a dear and inform the other teachers that all our students are safe and sound and-” He paused, tilting his head. “Yes, one of the school governors will undoubtedly want to come talk to me, if you could bring him up to speed before you and I review the events of the day?” 

“Certainly,” Severus said dryly. Not that he had much of a choice. 

He opened the door for Missus Weasley, her daughter, and Poppy, following them out of Albus’ office.

“Thank you so much, Severus,” Missus Weasley said as they passed the gargoyle guarding the Headmaster’s rooms. “I know we didn't always get along, but I never doubted your integrity. Especially after- Well, after the nasty traitor business came to light. James always said- But then, we all trusted Sirius… You put a whole lot on the line and now you saved our Ginny.” 

“I’m a teacher, Missus Weas-” 

“Oh, I’ve known you for years, call me Molly.” 

“Molly. I’m a teacher,” He said sternly. “Regardless of what happened in the war, I have to protect my students. I may be- Well, I mean, I’m not nice , but I take my duty to protect my students seriously. No one could have predicted that it was Black who ratted on L- on the Potters. I was surprised too. I was the most logical spy and the Order treated me accordingly. That’s the price one pays for spying. I did not help the Order to be popular. I was popular with the Death Eaters and see how that turned out.”

Ginevra looked up at him, shocked and surprised. “So the rumours are true?” 

Severus raised an eyebrow. “Which ones? The ones that say I’m a vampire? Or the ones that say I torment children to use their tears as ingredients?” 

“The ones about you working for You-Know-Who,” Ginevra mumbled.

“Yes. That’s true. I was young and naive. I think we share this experience. We both helped the Dark Lord because we both trusted the wrong people.” He gave her a small smile and she looked away to think about that. “But I’m not a vampire and my potions ingredients are ethically sourced.” 

“Truly Severus, thank you,” Molly said again. “I’ve been hearing good things about you from my boys.” 

Severus resisted the urge to snort. “Truly Molly, I would do it again. I’m just doing my job.”

“And Allbus should pay us better for it,” Poppy commiserated. “Obstacle courses, floods, Basilisks, vanished bones. I am working for three this year.”

Severus nodded. “Hear, hear.” 

“Bones vanished?” Molly asked, aghast. 

“Lockhart,” Severus said with his lip curled in disgust, but as Molly opened her mouth to argue, they reached the staircase. 

“It was lovely catching up, but my employer has yet more duties for me.” He smiled and nodded at them all.

“I want to see you in my hospital later, Severus,” Poppy said and Severus wanted to groan as if he was 16. 

“I will take some Pepperup after my talk with Albus,” He offered as a compromise.

Poppy glared at him and set her arms akimbo. 

“I will see you after my talk with Albus,” He resigned and turned into the corridor leading to the staff lounge. 

“You know, my boys are just the same,” He heard Molly say and grimaced.

“Have some tea, Harry,” Headmaster Dumbledore said and Harry took his cup in his hand again.

“Do you have any idea why Professor Snape took you with him into the Chamber of Secrets?” The Headmaster asked calmly.

Harry swirled the tea in his cup. He had added sugar and no milk, like Professor Snape had said, and there was little crystals swimming at the bottom of the cup.

“Because I can talk to serpents,” He said. It was the obvious answer and he couldn’t really see why Professor Dumbledore had asked. 

He had been thinking about serpents and snakes and lizards ever since they had come up from the chamber. Parseltongue was the language of the snakes, but Slytherin was the house of serpents. Somehow these words were used interchangeably, but if serpents were the same as snakes, why could Harry talk to Basilisks when they were so obviously lizards? Maybe it was because they were both serpents? But then what made something a serpent? Was it magic? Could worms be serpents? Maggots maybe? What about legless amphibians? And what about lizards with legs? Chinese dragons? Lindwurms? Did they just have to be long and tubular? Did they have to be big?

“Do you think that's the only reason?” Professor Dumbledore asked, shaking Harry out of his thoughts.

Harry set down his cup and shrugged. “I don’t know what else he could have needed from me. I didn’t do anything else except open the doors. He told me not to do anything and stay out of the way.”

Professor Dumbledore nodded sagely and blew into his own cup to cool the steaming tea.

The Professor took a deep breath and scrutinised Harry with his twinkling eyes.

“Harry, you’re a smart boy,” He started and Harry fought not to grimace. That didn’t bode well for the rest of the sentence.

“When Lord Voldemort was at his most powerful, I’m sure you’re aware, he wasn’t acting alone. He had a huge following and many witches and wizards believed in what he preached.”

Harry nodded slowly, frowning.

“Severus Snape is an intelligent man, and like for many Slytherins, survival is his priority. Professor Snape has demonstrated before that when the political winds are changing, he is willing to adapt to save his own hide. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

Harry heard him loud and clear and he didn’t trust it one bit.

“So you’re letting someone you don’t trust teach children? In a dangerous subject like potions?” Harry asked with wide eyes. 

“I trust Professor Snape with my life,” Dumbledore lied with his eyes closed. 

“Then I don’t think I’m catching your meaning, Sir.” Harry had a hard time not sounding icy. He couldn’t see a career in spying in his future. “I know Professor Snape isn’t nice. I never asked him to braid my hair and play tag with me. He asked me to open the Chamber of Secrets to protect the school, and like I did last year and like any good Gryffindor would, I did what was needed. Sir.”

Professor Dumbledore sighed heavily and nodded in the way only really old people could, as if frivolous youths were causing his gout to flare up.

“I see. Perhaps you had better go to bed.”

Harry nodded and stood up. “Good night, Sir.”

“Good night, Harry. Sleep well.” 

Chapter Text

“Ah! Severus!” A posh voice called just as he was coming down the stairs.

“I’m just on my way to see Dumbledore! What a pleasant surprise!”

Severus’ lips curled into a smirk.

“Hardly. He sent me to get you. Eager to see me?” He asked, touching his cheeks to either side of Lucius’ face.

“You know I always am, old friend.” Lucius Malfoy eyed his robes and smoothed his fingers over the fabric. “My, you are positively grimey ,” He said, frowning. 

Severus rolled his eyes. He had charmed their robes clean as soon as he and the children had arrived back in the castle, and Poppy had ensured Harry and Ginevra had a bath before talking with the Headmaster, but Severus hadn’t had the time. But of course cleaning spells weren’t enough for Lucius, who was now rubbing his index finger and thumb together and making a face.

“I would like to see your robes after you fight a basilisk,” Severus drawled and the shock in Lucius’ face made him sneer.

“I simply wouldn’t,” Lucius said, smirking loftily. “And neither should you, clearly. Why didn’t you call the Ministry? Creatures are more their métier, aren’t they? They have a whole department for it…” 

Severus suppressed a long, suffering sigh. “Your endless trust in authority is the root of all your problems, I hope you’re aware.”

“And your distrust the source of yours.”

“At least my flaws are justified.”

Lucius shook his head, incredulous. “Everyone’s flaws are justified ,” He exclaimed, “that’s why people have them. But that doesn’t make them right. They’re flaws!” 

Severus was glad to see Lucius showing this much emotion. It had been rare enough over the last decade or so. Perhaps they were all healing. Maybe killing the diary shade had been symbolic in that way. 

“Right you are, Luce,” He said with a slow smile.

“You’re going soft, Severus,” Lucius said, smiling too. “But jokes aside, what on earth happened? Why did you fight a basilisk? Surely, there had to be someone more… suited for a task like that.”

Severus sighed to buy himself some time. Perhaps it wasn’t smart to reveal everything to Lucius right away, not as long as he was a suspect, but he couldn’t hide anything that would become public without hurting his trust. 

“The monster in the Chamber of Secrets was a basilisk.” 

“Oh dear.” He didn’t sound at all surprised.

“Quite. I am not sure why no one has thought of it before, it’s easy enough to see in retrospect.”

“Who was the culprit? Were they caught?” 

“The same person as last time.” 

“But how? He’s not back, is he?” Lucius whispered, slightly panicked, and tension returned to his posture, leaving no trace of the easy humour from before.

“No, he was vanquished once more. By yours truly this time. Though, Harry Potter wasn’t far.” It was almost funny, wasn’t it?

“Severus—” 

“Don’t give me that. He was threatening students and I am a teacher. I would like to keep my job.” 

“This is bigger than your job! ” Lucius hissed.

“Oh look at Mister Wealthy Heir, telling me what I can and can’t afford,” Severus said sarcastically, and he was sure this would have hurt Lucius, if it hadn’t been a rerun of a debate they’d had a million times before. He wanted to storm off, like every other time, but they were going in the same direction.

“You know you can come to me for money… You could do research. I’d fund your science, you know I would.”

Severus sighed and ran his hand through his hair, finding ever more dust in it. “I know. But I don’t want to live under Narcissa’s rule any more than you do. Only I still have the semblance of a choice.”

Lucius looked at his shoes. “Yes… well…” He said, saying nothing at all.

“How is she?” 

Lucius sighed. “Oh, you know Narcissa.” 

“I do.”

They walked in silence for a while.

“So, what brings you to Hogwarts?” 

“ Ah, ” mirth lit up in Lucius’ face. “The board of governors had a meeting today and we composed a letter for the Headmaster informing him of our course of action if the students remain in danger.”

“I’m sorry you didn’t get to threaten Albus, I’m afraid the situation is resolved,” Severus said, the shadow of a smirk playing on his face.

“Oh, don’t you worry,” Lucius replied, “This still applies if students are attacked for other reasons.”

“The gift of sight?” Severus teased with a raised eyebrow

“Hardly,” Lucius huffed, “but I’ve been seeing a trend in recent years.”

“Premonition, then,” He said, smirking as they reached the gargoyle guarding Albus’ office.

Lucius glared at him playfully and they both schooled their features before climbing the stairs.

“So if I understand correctly,” Albus said, peering over his crescent glasses, “if I endanger the children I will be replaced?”

“A reasonable enough prerequisite, I’m sure you agree,” Lucius said smoothly.

“Certainly,” Albus conceded and for once his eyes reflected a normal amount of light.

Severus was listening closely and inspecting his fingers. They were still stained yellow from cutting turmeric roots a few days ago, he hadn’t even noticed in all the hubbub as of late. There had to be better ways to avoid that—apart from gloves. 

He watched Lucius and Albus talk in a completely civilised manner and still the tension in the air was suffocating. Any minute now he would smell ozone and lighting would destroy some of the invaluable magical apparatuses in Albus’ office.

“Now that the issue is resolved, I’m sure there is no need to worry,” Lucius said placidly, his tone cold. “But I think I speak for the entire board of governors when I say that I simply rest better knowing that safety is taken seriously at this school. Afterall, my only son attends Hogwarts and I have been worried for his safety. I’m sure other parents agree.”

“Naturally,” Albus agreed. “And as you say, the issue was resolved. Our very own Severus Snape—” He pretended to perk up at the mention of his name, as if he hadn’t been paying them any mind. “—vanquished the beast of Slytherin and saw to it that the dark artefact causing the trouble was destroyed entirely.”

Lucius smiled as if for the papers, saccharine and forced. “How ironic to have a Slytherin save the day instead of a Gryffindor.”

“And yet it was the beast of Slytherin that haunted us. I think you understand my issue with the wording in this letter. I did not cause the children any harm,” Albus said, pointing at a line in the letter.

“Lack of action can be just as incriminating, I’m sure you understand. Negligence is a grave offence in itself and some in the board of governors are of the opinion that Hogwarts has been negligent too many times. And was again in this instance. 

May I remind you of the accident of ‘75 that almost killed a student under your watch?” Lucius said, not pointing Severus out, but all present knew it was about him anyway, so he needn’t have bothered with discretion. “And the flooding just four years ago?”

“The accident of ‘75 is not common knowledge.”

“It isn’t,” Lucius said, tilting his head in acknowledgement. “And I don’t want it to be any more than you do. But the many professors in the defence position that have mistreated, neglected, and even hurt students or flat out refused to teach them anything at all are public knowledge. And the fact that you have not seen fit to replace them in a timely fashion is as well.”

“None of these professors have taught for a second year.”

Lucius sneered. “Damning with faint praise. That curse alone is a reason to have the school inspected and under new leadership. But the fact that you remain Headteacher is a privilege awarded to you by your accomplishments, not as a teacher, but as a wizard. A privilege that you can only hold for so long. This is a warning, nothing more. You’d do well to heed it.”

“Very well. Thank you for your warning, Mister Malfoy. I’m sure you can find your way to the front door on your own. Severus and I have matters to discuss.” 

Lucius stood up and nodded at Severus, bid his farewell, and was out the door.

Severus looked at his fingers again. Magicians from India surely had a way to remove stains like this…

“Sit down, Severus,” Albus said stiffly with barely concealed anger. “I trust you’ve informed our staff?”

Severus sat down and raised an eyebrow. “Of course. I sent a patronus to them all. We can inform them of the rest at the weekly meeting.”

Albus’ expression was comically grim. “Recount the events of tonight for me.”

“I have. Revisit your memory if you want it explained again. I’m sure everything that needed to be said has been said. I am not one to repeat myself,” Severus said nonchalantly. It was satisfying to see the Headmaster beside himself with rage.

“I’m sure you left things out to spare the sensibilities of those present before.”

Severus sighed. “I am not one to lie to my student’s parents, Albus,” He said tiredly, “I may be a spy, but I only lie when necessary.” 

The Headmaster sighed. “Excuse my temper, my boy. Of course you are truthful. I am just worried about the future.”

“Because of the board of governors?” 

“Because of Lord Voldemort.”

Severus didn’t wince, but it was a near thing.

“I fear he’ll return, my boy,” Albus said gravely.

Severus frowned. He wasn’t naive, but he failed to see how it related to the events today.“He failed to get the Philosopher's Stone, how could he return?”

“I have my sources, my boy,” Albus said cryptically and Severus rolled his eyes. 

Albus chuckled. “Mock me all you like, but I know my sources to be truthful and I trust their judgement,” He said, missing the point entirely. Severus didn’t mind Albus having sources. He had sources. The war was over for just over a decade and it had been their business to have sources . His issue was the lack of information. The only reason no one could afford to leave Albus’ scheming behind was because he didn’t share his bloody intel. Which was probably why he didn’t, but this was, as far as Severus could tell, the only reason anyone would want to leave Albus. Because neither the information he was operating under nor his motivations were clear to anyone. It was a bloody nuisance to work with. Especially as a double agent.

“Then our priorities should lie with educating Mister Potter.”

Albus shook his head. “Not yet, he is too young to know, Severus. He must have a normal childhood.” 

Severus refrained from snorting at that but his lips curled into a sneer anyway. “Because his childhood is so normal now. He doesn’t need to know why he is training, but with DADA Professors changing every year he needs reliable training. Maybe his friends would benefit from it too.” 

Albus shook his head. “No. This is final, Severus. I trust in my staff.”

Severus was speechless for several seconds. “You can’t be serious? You doddering old fool!” 

“This is not the first time I’ve been called that. Though, usually only my political opponents come after my age.”

Severus huffed, still completely aghast. “I don’t believe you. You trust Lockhart, Gilderoy Fraud Lockhart to teach Harry to fight the Dark Lord?”

“I’m sure he’ll have a different Professor next year.”

“I hope Lucius makes good on his threat,” He said and stood up. “You are insane.”

“Are you going back to your Death Eater friends?” Albus asked calmly, though he might have spat at Severus just as well.

Severus looked at him with pure disgust. “If you like your subjects ignorant you shouldn’t have become a teacher.” 

He turned on his heel and slammed the door on his way out.

Chapter Text

The following weeks were a return to normal. The whole school heaved a sigh of relief, once when the safety regulations were lifted and the Chamber declared closed, and another when all the petrified students and residents were revived.                  

Harry was glad to be able to focus on school for once. He thought that was what the whole year must feel like if it was normal, though if Percy was to be believed, no year had ever been normal.

“The Professor before Quirrel, Professor Huber, wanted us to learn the bubble head charm,” Fred told them a few days before the end of term at breakfast, “But you can’t make a bubble of air while you’re standing in air, right? So guess what she did.” 

“What?” Ron and Harry asked at the same time.

“But isn’t that a fifth year spell? And shouldn’t it be a Charms spell?” Hermione asked, frowning, but Ron hushed her. She scowled at him but listened to Fred’s story nonetheless.

“She set the classroom underwater!” The twins burst out laughing at the memory, but somewhere Angelina and Katie shot them dark looks.

“What?” Ron asked again, “How does that make any sense?” 

“Yea, why not bring a kiddie pool or something,” Harry added.

“Well,” George said, “She tried to only set half the classroom underwater so we could all see it, like in an aquarium. She had the entire classroom rearranged as well. It was really interesting but her runes got smudged while she was filling the water side and everything flushed over, clearing the tables and ruining all of our books.”

“Half the class got sick as well, some even got pneumonia,” Fred chimed in again. “She should have dried us all up, but instead she sent us halfway across the castle to Madam Pomfrey with dripping socks. In the middle of winter.”

“If you’re done retelling it like it was funny,” Katie said angrily, “I would like to add that some got seriously injured. There used to be this marble globe at the front of the DADA classroom and it got knocked off its stand, breaking Angelina’s leg. She was underwater for way longer than anyone else and could very well have drowned. So stop joking around.”

The group sobered a little. 

“Yeah,” Fred said a little more gently, but still cheerfully, wrapping an arm around Angelina, “But you didn’t drown. And we’re happy you’re still with us. We need you to wipe the floors with Slytherins. No-one chaser-s quite like you do.” 

Harry grinned at them. This was probably Fred’s most sincere moment and he was still a goof.

A barn owl landed halfway on Harry’s plate and softly… screeched? At him. Was it possible to screech softly? It was a noise, and it wasn’t pleasant, but it was soft and definitely for Harry.

“You’re Artemis, aren’t you?” He said, taking the letter she had delivered for him.

Hermione fed her some owl treats as he read. “You aren’t avoiding Professor Snape again, are you?” 

Harry shook his head. “He’s just telling me to come to his office.” He tried his best to look annoyed or stressed. Anything but excited.

This meant they had a plan! Somewhere for Harry to stay! Possibly forever! A home, a real and proper home!

He stuffed the letter in his pocket and shifted in his seat. Suddenly breakfast wasn’t as important anymore.

“D’you reckon I should go now?” He asked Hermione, who shrugged.

“Does it say when?” 

“It says at my earliest convenience.”

“It’s pretty convenient now,” Ron said between bites.

“I don’t know,” Hermione said. “I think you should finish breakfast.” 

But Harry was already standing up, picking up his toast. “I’ll finish on the way,” he said and almost ran out of the Great Hall.

“Harry!” Severus said as he approached him from the corridor. 

The child was waiting in front of his door, bouncing on his feet. Severus had cut his breakfast short as soon as Harry had gotten up from the table, taking a scone to go, but only real emergencies could get him to run. And so Harry had probably been waiting for quite some time when Severus got there.

“Professor!” He said excitedly. “Where—!” Severus cut him off with a short gesture. 

“Not until we’re in my office.”

“Why?”

“Wards against eavesdropping.” Severus let his hand rest on the door knob to his classroom for a couple seconds. Seven of the nails in the wood lit up and the lock clicked open. He let Harry precede him.

“Wow! That was brilliant! How does that work?”

“One question at a time.” Severus smiled and opened the door to his office in a similar fashion. 

Harry bounced into his office and plopped onto the couch.

Severus pulled the door shut and went into explanation mode. “The wards recognise my magical signature. If you’re genuinely interested we can go over that together if you elect ancient runes next year.” 

Harry scrunched up his face. “Can’t you just tell me?” 

“One day I’ll give you the rundown on basic ward making, as I do think it’s important for you to know, but today I have more pressing information.” Harry started bouncing again and Severus smiled warmly.

“Where am I staying in the summer?” Harry asked, vibrating in his seat. 

“I have arranged for you to stay with an old friend. I trust her, but because of my previous affiliation with the Dark Lord, she does not trust me. Which, from her point of view, is very reasonable,” He added when he saw Harry’s face. “Her name is Andromeda Tonks. She and her husband Ted have a child who is training to be an auror.”

“What’s an auror?” 

“It’s a part of magical law enforcement.” 

Harry still looked confused. 

“Magic Police.”

“Oh! It sounded a bit like dancing…” He said pensively.

“I don’t think they do a lot of dancing in Auror School.” 

“How do I get there if your friend doesn’t trust you?”

Severus held up a vial of sludge and a single strand of greying hair. 

“Polyjuice potion!” Harry said and then looked guiltily at Severus.

He raised an eyebrow at the child. “Your knowledge of this potion wouldn’t have anything to do with Miss Granger's prolonged stay in the hospital wing, would it.”

Harry had the decency to look ashamed. “Maybe…?” 

Severus shook his head with an exasperated sigh. “I want to hear about this later. For now, let’s return to the matter at hand.

I will pick you up from King’s Cross Station disguised as Professor McGonnagal. You will have to wait until it’s near deserted, but trust that I will get you.”

Harry nodded slowly. “What if the Dursleys show up?”

“They won’t. I have ensured that.”

To his credit, Harry did not ask how and to Severus’ credit, he hadn’t done anything illegal.

“And then you drop me off at Missus Tonk’s house? For the whole summer?” 

“If you want, I can arrange for you to spend some time with the Grangers. The Weasleys are spending the majority of their holidays in Egypt and I think they’re too close to Dumbledore to be safe.”

“I’d like that!” Harry said excitedly, making Severus smile anew.

“Very well. I will also take you to London to get new clothes and school supplies. Your uniform sleeves are getting a bit short and you will be needing new books for the next term. I would also like to tutor you in Defence and Potions. Defence because your teachers are constantly changing and I would like you to be better educated on the matter and Potions because I want to and I think your marks could improve some. Though, your work has improved quite a lot since last year, I must say.”

Harry nodded. “It’s easier to follow along when I don’t have to actively hate you.” 

Severus tilted his head in acknowledgement. “Fair point. You should get to class. I don’t want you to be late on my account.”

Severus was sorting through his stores, checking the preservation charms, renewing some, throwing out ingredients gone bad and taking note of all the things that needed replacing. 

A change in the wards alerted him of someone entering his classroom and he turned to see Albus. 

The Headmaster moved silently, but didn’t seem surprised at being noticed.

“Can I help you?” 

“My boy, I want to make sure we don’t go into the summer with a grudge.”

Severus pursed his lips. “I’m not holding any more grudges than normally.”

Albus gave him a deeply disappointed look. “Are you certain? I think we both said things we now regret last time we spoke, and I want to rectify any misunderstandings that may have occurred.”

Severus turned his back to Albus, continuing his work, picking up a jar of pickled shrivel figs that had gone bad. “I don’t think there is much to misunderstand. You accused me of returning to the Dark Lord simply because we disagree. I don’t think wanting Potter to be prepared for what you think is to come makes me a fascist. I don’t want to raise him into a child soldier, I simply wish him to be more capable of defending himself than most were during the war.”

He banished the contents of the jar, cleaned it with a spell and sent it to his other glassware before picking up the next item on the shelf.

“I understand your reasoning, Severus, and it’s sound logic,” Albus said, sounding exactly as patronising as always, “But you simply don’t have all the information. And with your recent rebellious tendencies, I feel I must remind you that if you don’t stand with me, you stand with Voldemort.”

Severus’ grip tightened around his wand. “You can’t expect me to follow you blindly. You can’t expect me to simply accept choices I don’t know the reasoning behind. If I wanted to practise headless obedience I’d return to the Dark Lord in truth. We both know I don’t want that.”

“How can I trust you when you don’t follow me?” 

Severus looked at him cooly. 

“You’ll just have to take my word for it. Just like everyone else.” 

The headmaster sighed and nodded. “Very well. I’m sure you’re busy. I’ll leave you to it and will see you next term.”

Severus nodded. “Until then.”

Albus silently left him to his work and Severus attended to it, still seething. If he didn’t finish it now, he would have to come back tomorrow and he was not keen on returning to work on his precious weeks off, even if the halls were empty.

By the time Severus had finished his laundry list of things that needed doing before he could leave, it was already getting late. He had hoped to place his orders for the ingredients and glassware he needed for next term, but a quick glance at the clock told him the Hogwarts Express would be arriving at Kings Cross Station within the hour. He would have to do it another day.

Securing everything that had a lock in his office was tedious and slow, but if someone gained access to his quarters, they were only a pinch of floo powder away from his home. 

In his youth Severus had hated the house on Spinner's end. It had been modest, just enough for a family of three to comfortably live in, but sharing a roof with Tobias Snape would make Versailles feel cramped. He had seriously considered burning it to the ground in favour of the ancestral home after he had inherited the Prince Manor in Cornwall and France, but he wasn’t comfortable living in a house that big on his own. And his French was atrocious. 

These days he only paid indecent sums to keep it up and, twice a year, invited the Malfoy’s over when they visited their own summer home in Occitania.

As always, the house smelled like dust when he stepped through the flames. He had no time to clean or read one of the many letters on his kitchen table. He needed to get into costume. 

Severus enjoyed a good drag show like most any queer person he knew, but he really only did any drag himself when he needed to hide his identity. Most people simply didn’t expect a man to crossdress and when your survival is on the line and you know for a fact you can ‘pass’ because magic is on your side, using expectations against your opponents is a real gift. 

Not that he wanted to deceive Andromeda specifically, but in this case it was easier than finding out whether or not she would betray him to Dumbledore, though he doubted she would. It was simply a risk he couldn’t afford to take.

Minerva’s hair turned the polyjuice potion into a murky red, as if someone had decided the only thing strawberry ice cream needed to look appetising was balsamic vinegar. He drank the concoction and made a face. Mint chocolate.

Platform 9¾ was almost deserted, save for Harry and a couple stragglers. The boy sat on his trunk with Hedwig on his lap, preening herself while he talked to her in a quiet voice.

Severus cleared his throat and peered at Harry through the replica of Minerva’s spectacles. 

“Mister Potter,” He said, her Scottish accent coming easily to him with a mouth well used to it.

“Professor?” 

“Well, get up, lad, we have somewhere to be,” He tried to imitate Minerva’s curt but friendly manner.

“Professor McGonagall doesn’t call me lad,” Harry said, grinning.

“Laddie?” Severus suggested. 

“Now you sound like Hagrid.”

“Mister Potter.” 

“Yes, that’s more like it,” Harry said and lifted Hedwig off of his lap, standing up.

“Before we go,” Severus said, irked by how easily Harry was ready to come with him, “Next time you notice someone behaving… out of character, please confirm the identity of the person you are following home. A lot of people have reasons to harm you and I don’t want to see that happening.”

“Like with Dobby?”

“Dobby?”

“Yeah, the house elf who stole my mail and made me miss the train in September.”

Severus’ eyes threatened to pop out of Minerva’s face.

“That was Dobby?” 

“Yea. Haven’t I told you? Do you know him?”

Severus took a steadying breath, trying to fit that piece of information in with everything else that had happened this term. 

“Yes. Yes, I do.” He took another breath. “We need to talk about this, but we’re on a time limit and there are several things we need to discuss before I transform back.”

Harry nodded.

“You asked me for a way to contact me in an emergency. I’ll give you one better: an escape plan.” He took a little velvet jewellery box out of the dragon leather handbag. 

“This necklace belonged to your mother. She forgot it at my home one day. It’s nothing expensive, just silver fashion jewellery. I charmed to be unnoticeable, I’m not certain how you feel about necklaces—”

“It’s ok!” Harry interrupted, inspecting the flower charm on the thin silver chain with a fascinated expression.

“Very well. All you need to do is touch it, wearing it is enough, and say Lily while thinking of safety and it will take you to the guest room in my home. I will be notified when you use it and I will come to get you. I ask you not to leave the guest room until I get you, as my house might have some other guests of a dangerous persuasion, but you will find a change of clothes, some food and books to read until then. Alright?” 

Harry took a deep breath and nodded. “Thank you,” He whispered.

“I’ll keep you safe to the best of my abilities. You don’t have to thank me.” Severus smiled.

Harry nodded again.

“Very well, Mister Potter,” He said, adopting Minerva’s tone and accent again. “Let’s get you settled with the Tonkses.”

He took Harry’s trunk and offered his arm for side-along-apparition. 

They landed in front of a small cottage just at the outskirts of a sleepy town. The sun was beginning to set and the soft sounds of summer nights made everything feel a little unreal to Harry.

A middle aged woman opened the door for them as they approached.

“Minerva!” She greeted them with a small smile. “And you must be Harry! Come in, I already put the kettle on.”

End of Part one

Chapter Text

Severus walked down the long corridor. It was still just as full of rubble as it had been last time. Shed skins and little skeletons littered the floor.

He unsheathed his knife and got to work, cutting the basilisk skins into pieces just small enough to fit in his magically roomy satchel. It wasn’t easy work. The skins were brittle and thick, and he would have preferred to leave them intact, but carrying them like this was easier. 

He cut them lengthwise and then into several shorter pieces, leaving him with near rectangular sheets of an off white colour, roughly the size of a standard roll of parchment.

The rodent bones he could identify he collected in a bottle that was already somewhat filled with similar bones. They would have to be cleaned of the dust, but time had done a good job of rotting away anything that wasn’t bone.

When he had cleared the hallway, he cleansed his tools and hands with a spell. He was covered in dust already and he hadn’t even entered the Chamber yet.

To harvest the basilisk itself he had several different containers in his satchel. Vials and bottles of every size for blood and other secretions, wax cloth for the skin and what laid beneath it, big jars prepared with conservation liquid for the eyes and other organs and plenty of space for the bones. He had also brought knives, plenty of them. He had a simple potioneers knife with him at any time and he prefered to use it at every step, but while it was versatile and adaptable to many purposes, it was by no means a bone saw nor very big. Thus, he had taken a collection of cutting utensils and other tools to hold the carcass open, assist in bloodletting and extracting the delicate organs without damaging them.

Additionally, he had brought schematics and anatomical drawings. Many of them were old, some of them wildly inaccurate from what he had seen last time, but he didn’t intend to run into this without preparation. 

Severus also planned to make some drawings himself. He was not a talented artist, but he had practice. It was part of a potioneers mastery to learn how to make anatomical drawings of plants and creatures just as much as it was to read and study them. And where his sketching skill failed him, magic could assist.

He had anticipated this excursion to take several hours, given that he could take neither Harry nor Edward to help him, but clearing out the corridor had taken much longer than he had expected and the beast itself was more massive than just its discarded skins.

A simple recording of Harry speaking to the door, pulled from his own memory, made the snakes give way and open to the Chamber.

He didn’t even need to enter it to see what was blatantly obvious at the first glance.

The chamber was empty.

The basilisk was gone.