Chapter Text
It had been a whirlwind of a few days, despite Severus having been at the castle for longer than usual over the summer. He was ahead in his brewing but behind in updating his lesson plans and making his timetable for meetings with the Slytherins, and then there were the usual pre-term meetings that Dumbledore insisted on holding. Keeping an eye on Harry over the summer had not been quite as onerous as Severus had feared, but the new puzzle of Harry's horcrux, in addition to fitting in increased Death Eater duties to excuse his limited availability, had proven to be a substantial drain on his time.
After seeing Harry off through the floo, he had been so busy trying to catch up with arrangements for the new school year that, before he knew it, the time of the welcoming feast was almost at hand.
At least, he mused, as he reluctantly made his way down from his new classroom, he hadn't needed to move from his old quarters to be nearer to his new classroom. It would have been following protocol had he done so, of course, but Dumbledore seemed to think it was a better idea for him to retain his dungeon rooms, as head of Slytherin house.
There was a feeling of anticipation in the air, as he strode past the suits of armour on his way to the Great Hall. He was busily organising his mind as he walked, mentally preparing to herald the imminent arrival of his summer's death knell, when the corner of his eyes caught a silver flash. He turned to watch a glowing wolf bound towards Hagrid in the entrance hall below. Severus was close enough to hear Tonks’s voice emanating from its open mouth and he prided himself once more on his exceptional hearing.
“Wotcher Hagrid. I've got Harry and I'm bringing him up to school. Can you meet us at the gates? Ta!” The patronus faded from view. Severus found himself unaccountably increasing his stride at this, altering his path to intercept Hagrid.
“Is everything alright, Rubeus?” he drawled, catching the attention of the half-giant, who beamed at him.
“‘Ello Professor! No trouble, just ‘Arry. Tonks says she's got ‘im and wants me ter go get ‘im from the gates.” Hagrid paused at this, eyeing the doors to the Great Hall with a hint of dismay.
A burning curiosity and a mild sense of unease flared to life in Severus, as he considered the myriad possibilities that could have contributed to Harry's tardiness. His brow furrowed, barely perceptibly, before smoothing once again. “If you would prefer, I could walk down to the gates for you,” he found himself offering.
Hagrid readily accepted, as anyone with eyes would have predicted he might; Hagrid had not an ounce of discretion in his massive body, and relief shone from his face like a lighthouse beacon. “That'd be a huge help, Professor! Kind of yer. I’d do it myself, only the feast's about to start and I wanted a word with Pr’fesser McGonagall about summat.”
“It is no bother,” Severus intoned, keeping his voice level. “If you will let the headmaster know where I am?”
“Oh, of course, Pr’fesser!” Hagrid replied, brightly. “See you in a mo!”
Severus turned without further ado and swept from the Entrance Hall, heading down the steps and away from the pupils who were filing their way towards the hall, their excited chatter dying away as his path diverted from theirs.
Severus had ample time on the walk to muse upon how Harry would react to his unexpected appearance at the gates. Tonks would be distrustful of course, but there was nothing overtly suspicious about him stepping in. Severus had always had time for Hagrid. Even if his attitude towards Harry had been unchanged, he would still have volunteered to collect the boy, if only to save Hagrid the inconvenience.
The evening was crisp and the cool night air of the Scottish highlands was rapidly replacing the mild warmth of the late summer day. A long shadow fell before Severus as he strode rapidly downhill. He was not a man given to catastrophising, and the longer he walked, the more irritation replaced the vague sense of unease he had felt upon hearing Harry was not with his peers. What in Merlin's name had the boy managed to get himself into now?<
Severus shook his head to himself as he continued down the hill that led to the castle gates, soon making out the shapes of two distant figures on the lawn before him, waiting behind the locked and bolted iron.
“Nymphadora,” he acknowledged flatly as he entered earshot, choosing to ignore Potter entirely. There was an audience, after all.
Nymphadora had been a particularly irksome student, and he had been delighted to see the back of her, blighting his classroom as she had for the entirety of her seven years at Hogwarts. How she had managed to scrape an outstanding OWL, let alone a passing NEWT, given her propensity to knock things flying wherever she went with cheerful abandon…
Now, however, the woman's face, surrounded by hair that was uncharacteristically dull in colour, contorted itself into a frown. “I meant for Hagrid to get the message,” she commented, regarding him with suspicion. Snape barely managed to restrain himself from rolling his eyes. He did not appreciate her unspoken consternation at it being he that had emerged from the castle; much as the mistrust had been earned, cultivated even, it still rankled.
“Hagrid had matters to attend to in the castle,” he drawled. “I volunteered to escort Potter in his stead.” At this, he finally allowed himself to direct his attention at the boy. Internally, he sighed. Harry had clearly been involved in some form of altercation; his nose had recently been bloodied, and likely broken. Nymphadora appeared to have healed any injury, but had left the blood staining Harry's face and robes.
Forcefully suppressing the urge to find out what the hell had happened, Severus unlocked the gate and turned to Harry, waiting with an air of impatience for him to cross into Hogwarts before firmly closing and locking the gate behind him.
“Interesting new patronus,” he drawled at Nymphadora, as a parting shot. “Your other looked stronger.” Smirking at her outraged expression, he turned to face the castle. “Come,” he demanded of the boy, and swept forward, leaving Potter to trail along in his wake.
It was a moment before the boy began to move, and, from the sound of footsteps, actually broke into a half-jog in order to close the distance that had formed between them in that short interval. Severus said nothing, waited until his ears detected the telltale pop of disapparition, and still continued onwards. Not yet.
They walked in a silence that many would have thought awkward for a further minute before Severus deemed the distance between them and any possible observers beyond the gates to be sufficient to obscure them. He stopped near the Whomping Willow. Harry closed the gap by a few paces before he realised his professor had halted and stopped likewise.
“Are you unharmed?” he found himself asking.
“Yeah.” The answer came quickly, with Harry still refusing to meet his teacher's eyes. Harry glanced in the direction of the castle. “Shouldn't we be going?”
"We should, certainly. However, we should already be at the feast. I would like to know exactly how you ended up with a bloodied nose on the Hogwarts Express, late for the welcome feast,” remarked Severus, flatly.
He raised his wand and directed it at Harry, somewhat surprised when the boy failed to flinch.
“Tergeo" Severus incanted, watching with some satisfaction as the blood that had still decorated Potter's upper lip and chin vanished. After using another spell to clean the boy's muggle outfit, he returned his wand to its holster and fixed Harry with a demanding stare.
“What happened?”
"Malfoy.” Harry scowled. “Now can we go?”
Severus had no time or patience for uncooperative teenagers. “Harry,” the sharp admonishment made its way out of Snape's mouth before he could temper it, and the boy started, looking up at him sheepishly.
Severus frowned at him, and repeated, in a tone somewhat gentler than before, though no less urgent, “What happened?”
For a moment, Severus thought the boy would refuse again, but then, “I snuck into Malfoy’s compartment,” Harry admitted, head even lower. Severus could see a slight reddening of his cheeks. He did not comment, and eventually, reluctantly, Harry continued.
“Malfoy figured it out, and stopped me leaving the carriage.”
“I see.” Severus nodded thoughtfully, and resumed walking, now at a slower pace, allowing Harry to draw up alongside him. “I presume this was before you thought to change into your robes. Did you gather any intelligence you would consider worthwhile?”
Harry looked up at him, a furrow between his brows. No doubt he had expected to be reprimanded for his foolishness, but experience had taught Severus that teenagers were rarely receptive to censure. One had to tread lightly where one wished to retain trust and goodwill with one. Which, thankfully, Severus mused, was seldom.
Still eyeing him with a little wariness, Harry slowly spoke. “He said Voldemort's given him a mission.”
Snape nodded; this was not news. He glanced up towards the Great Hall. The feast beckoned; the later they arrived the more obvious they would be. Time was of the essence. And yet, some details required clarification. He slowed his pace still further. “Did your friends fail to look for you?”
Harry shook his head and cleared his throat a bit, embarrassment shining from his face now. “They didn't know where I was. Malfoy, he, erm, covered me up with the invisibility cloak, and drew the blinds.”
“Did he now?” Severus mused to himself, thoughtful. “Well then, I suppose I cannot admonish you too severely. Foolish and impulsive though your actions were, they have at least revealed one useful piece of new information. I trust you have learned from this experience, and do not require a lecture on the imprudence of undergoing espionage work without a plan for discovery in place?”
Harry nodded quickly, but his eyes were alive with curiosity, and the question was not long in coming.
“What new information?”
But they had reached the steps of the castle, and Severus shot him a warning look. “I beg your pardon, Potter?” Snape sneered, as he turned to continue his ascent up the stone steps, “Kindly retrieve your pathetic excuse of manners from whichever deep recess of your mind you have shoved them into and dust them off. I will not tolerate disrespect.”
His tone was harsh, his words sharp, but as he turned his head to lock eyes with Harry, he hoped the Gryffindor would understand his alteration in manner.
Harry’s eyes widened initially at the abrupt change, but then Snape saw the flicker of comprehension before Potter replied, “What new information, sir?”
Snape allowed his lips to draw up into a sneer as he resumed his path towards the Great Hall, “You expect me to deprive Hogwarts’ resident amateur sleuth of the opportunity to locate his own answers?” Harry quirked an eyebrow at this, which Snape duly returned.
“I don't suppose I could use my cloak to sneak in?” Harry queried, his tone suggestive of a humourous, throwaway remark but his eyes betraying a real sense of hope. However, it would be obvious to anyone watching that Snape had retrieved the boy, and so the public late entrance had to be made.
“I suggest,” Snape muttered under his breath, low enough that he was sure even Harry, standing beside him, could barely hear it, “That if you do not wish to feel embarrassment, you simply choose not to. Take a moment, but not too long.”
When Snape swept in through the staff entrance at the back of the hall, taking his seat midway through the banquet, he looked up to see Harry already seated, chatting with Weasley as if he'd never missed a moment. Professor Snape's mouth twisted at the sight, but internally, Severus felt a little glow of warmth.
He looked across the hall to where Draco Malfoy scowled at the sight of his self-declared rival, muttering to his friends, the very picture of the junior Death Eater. And yet, given the opportunity to steal Harry's invisibility cloak, or hide him somewhere he would not be discovered, allowing for an easy abduction by the Dark Lord, Draco had chosen to leave his carriage blind drawn, had left Potter in a place he could be easily stumbled upon. It could have been mere oversight, of course, but Severus doubted it. Draco was, had always been, methodical. He thought things through, weighed up pros and cons.
In spite of appearances, there seemed to be a significant chance that Draco did not want Harry to lose to the Dark Lord.