1 Sept 1991 - A few hours after the Sorting Feast
Snape sat on one of the more comfortable visitors chairs in the Infirmary. In the bed nearby, Harry slept, a bit fitfully, but he didn't wake to any bad dreams. The potions in him and his day had no doubt exhausted him. Briefly he leaned forward to push a jaggedly trimmed forelock off the child's forehead. Snape then leaned back in his chair. For a moment he studied the child.
Harry Potter was thin. Madame Pomfrey had determined that he was malnourished. His growth had been stunted due to poor diet. A diet that lacked proper nutrition. There were dark circles that almost appeared as smudges of black kohl. His skin was pasty, dry, and upon his face it was almost tight over the cheekbones.
"This is amazing, but it is horrible, Severus. Harry's magic has been repairing his body from various beatings that resulted in the fracturing of most bones; breaking a few others," mused Madame Pomfrey as she sponged the last of the dirt from the child's arm. Poppy did not believe that Cleansing Spells were good for the skin and always insisted upon baths or sponge baths to clean the body.
"How long, Poppy?" asked Severus.
"At least since his magic manifested, Severus." She shook her head as she tucked the blankets up under his chin. "It is remarkable that his magic did not burn itself out. However, despite all that the magic was trying to do, Harry's body is wearing out."
"Can we reverse his condition?" asked the worried wizard.
Poppy nodded. "Certainly we can, Severus." She gently patted the boy's blanket covered shoulder. "The Hogwarts elves will feed him well, and I'll work up a Nutrition Potion you can brew for him."
The Healer had then left them as she returned to her office.
Snape now held the curious drawing that he'd found in Harry's cupboard. The drawing had a fair representation of Hogwarts in the background. It had a few extra towers and a wooden bridge that extended between towers that didn't exist, but anyone familiar with the old castle would know it at once. Flying around its towers were children on brooms, although none of them really had any faces since they were too small. Standing in front of a thatched hut that was surrounded by what some Muggles might think were pumpkins that were too big was Hagrid's hut. In front of this, in garish green and yellow robes and a tall, conical hat was a wizard with a long beard, dancing.
Snape took a moment to scowl at the comic representation of Dumbledore. The façade of the doddering old man was one that the Headmaster wielded to perfection. However, anyone who had ever been at the end of either his temper, his wand, or his power knew how false that was.
"Should have been a Slytherin, you old fox," hissed Snape. He instantly quieted as a small whimper emitted from the sleeping boy. Automatically, he leaned over and rested his hand upon the boy's chest. Harry let out a sigh of contentment and drifted deeper into sleep. He went back to studying the drawing.
Dominating the picture was a very strong character all in black. Harry had taken great care with his black crayon to shape the black of the robes so that they billowed, rather majestically behind the figure and started to curl around the smaller figure that had glasses and messy black hair.
Snape touched his nose, and couldn't stop the soft snort of amusement that escaped. All of his features, his thin mouth, his very dark eyes, his defined cheeks, trademark scowl, and his large, bent nose had been more detailed than he had at first seen. Snape felt his likeness was eerily accurate. As if the child had seen him before drawing him. Snape stroked his finger down the black cloak following one of its incredible billows of cloth. Harry had scrubbed so hard, or perhaps intently, with the black crayon that the cloak had a waxy feel to it.
The figure of Snape had a black clad arm draped protectively over the figure Harry's shoulder. The small fingers of Harry were clutching a portion of the voluminous robes.
The Snape figure's other arm stretched out holding his wand. Vicious crackles of green light, drawn as jagged lightning bolts, shot forth from the end of the wand to envelope a very eerie representation of the Dark Lord with snake white skin and inhuman, maroon eyes.
Snape shuddered. The Voldemort he'd known had been a charismatic man nearing his 50s. His hair had been brown, but long, nearly to his elbows, and Snape recalled how his women followers had been drawn to the Dark Lord; obscenely so. Bellatrix Lestrange had been the worst in her fawning over the Dark Wizard. Married to Rodolphus Lestrange the mad witch had no reluctance in flirting, shamelessly, with the Dark Lord in front of her husband. To Snape, Voldemort had always thrived under the mad woman's sycophantic behaviour.
Harry's portrait was like a Dorian Gray's hidden portrait of the soul that was the evil of Voldemort. It was... accurate.
Folding the drawing, he tucked it carefully back into his pocket. The paper was old, and fragile, and Snape had an odd feeling that the drawing had been a treasured one of the small boy's for a few years.
"How did you know about us?" he softly spoke towards the sleeping child. "How did you know about me?" Snape's almost shy question was so softly whispered, he wasn't sure he had spoken aloud.
In answer, a breeze wafted into the infirmary. It wasn't cold, but warm, like a gentle breath. It briefly touched Snape's cheek, ruffled Harry's blankets, and was gone as quickly as it had arrived leaving only a gentle scent of blooming flowers behind.
"Lily," whispered Snape.
He wanted to look around for his friend, but resisted doing so. He knew he would not see her. Lily was long gone. Only her son, small and vulnerable, remained.
Snape had very little sleep after he'd left the Infirmary. Three of his new Snakes had wakened in the night, homesick and in tears. He had not been surprised that one of the three was young Draco Malfoy.
He had plied each of the three youngsters with hot chocolate that had been laced with a Calming Potion and then instructed the newly appointed prefects to watch over the firsties as he was in need of sleep himself. As it was, he'd only managed three hours of sleep.
Since Snape had a busy morning ahead of him he woke his Snakes early and gave them his usual beginning of term speech that was normally given at the end of the Welcoming Feast. He briefed the firsties on his rules for Slytherin, and also reminded his older students of those rules. He then had the prefects usher the House to the Great Hall and to breakfast. He watched with satisfaction as his Snakes, neatly arranged from younger to eldest, assembled in two side-by-side columns and walked out of the common room. He followed last.
At the staff table Snape had a quick bite of some fruit and two strong cups of coffee before he rose from the staff table to hand out class schedules to his Snakes.
2 Sept 1991
Up in the Infirmary, Harry woke at seven in the morning slightly disoriented. He had started to get out of bed, to go and fix breakfast for the Dursleys, when he realised he wasn't at #4 Privet Drive.
"Good morning, Mr. Potter," came a cheery voice.
Harry turned to see the brown-haired woman in starched blue and whites that he sort of half-remembered from blurry, pained visions. He dropped his eyes quickly. It was never a good thing to meet a person's eyes. Uncle Vernon had taught him the folly of that.
Poppy took out her wand and waved it over the small boy. "You've responded well to your potions, but I want you to stay here for one more day. Do you need the facilities?" she asked solicitously.
Harry jumped off the bed and followed the woman obediently. She showed him a door and he pushed through it. Just minutes later he was back, standing at the woman's side.
"Did you wash your hands?" she asked.
"Yes'm," he muttered.
"Did you wash you face?" she asked once more.
"Yes'm, I did."
"Very good, then. You can have breakfast, and then I think you should have a bath."
This time he didn't follow. He stood in place by the loo with his eyes wide in surprise. "But, I haven't done any chores, yet," he protested.
"Children don't earn breakfast, Harry. It's a requirement. Now, come back to your bed and I'll bring you something nice to eat."
There was a small bounce in Harry's step as he returned to his bed and sat on the edge of it. Was he really going to get to eat before doing any chores? He really hoped so.
Harry's hopes were blessedly realised as the nurse looking woman returned with a tray that was floating beside her.
"Ma'am?" he whispered. Then he looked up, although he was peering at her cautiously through his fringe. "Who are you?"
"I'm the Healer here at Hogwarts. My name is Madame Poppy Pomfrey."
As soon as she left, Harry smiled to himself as he picked up a piece of bacon. Despite his relatives, he'd made it to Hogwarts!
Harry could only eat half his breakfast, but Madame Pomfrey seemed satisfied with what he did eat. At her orders, he trotted off to the loo to take his bath.
It was pure heaven as he played with the many faucets that spilled forth warm water at just the perfect temperature. There were bubbles of all colours, too. Before he knew it, he was forgetting his aunt and how she always used to make him hurry his cold showers. He ducked beneath the water pretending he was a fish, and then he jumped up, spraying water from his mouth. He discovered that he could splash all he wanted and none of the water spilled over the sides of the tub and onto the floor. For a moment he thrashed wildly, letting loose a few giggles, until Madame Pomfrey knocked on the door.
"I'm sorry! I'll hurry!" he called, suddenly subdued.
"No need, Mr. Potter. I just wanted to make sure you were all right. Take your time," she replied through the wooden door.
"Really?" he called back in disbelief.
"Really, Mr. Potter."
Harry wasn't sure, but he thought he heard a bit of laughter. He forgot it in seconds though as he began to play submarine captain.
Almost two hours later a very squeaky clean Harry emerged from the loo in fresh pyjamas, a dressing gown, and fluffy slippers. He was met by Madame Pomfrey who did smirk as she examined his pruney fingers. She gave him a potion, and a book to read, and settled him onto his bed.
Poppy hadn't expected Harry to let himself go in the tub and have fun. It was pleasant to hear his laughter as the water splashed about harmlessly. Normally she wouldn't stand for such nonsense in her Infirmary but she doubted that Harry ever had much time for such silliness. That, and since she had no other patients, as yet, she might as well let him indulge.
At lunch time she found Harry sitting cross-legged on his bed as he peered at the book she'd given him. It was a first year Charms textbook and she'd rather thought it might actually put him to sleep. It surprised her to find him studiously reading it.
Harry looked up, smiling widely, and comfortably, for the first time since Snape had brought him to Hogwarts. "This book is really interesting!"
"I thought you might enjoy Charms. It was a favourite subject of your mother's."
Harry's mouth dropped open. "My mother? You knew her?" He asked, the textbook all but suddenly forgotten.
Madame Pomfrey seated herself and smoothed her apron with the palms of her hands. "I did. Your father, too."
"What were they like?" asked Harry as he settled against his pillows as though he were preparing himself for a bedtime story.
"Well, James first, but only because he seemed to come into my Infirmary once a week. He was a very boisterous sort, very well-liked, and most especially popular with all the girls. He was a bit of a derring-do, too, and I suppose that was one reason he was in Gryffindor."
"Hagrid said he was really brave," Harry echoed some of the compliments the half-Giant had made about James Potter.
For a brief second, Madame Pomfrey's lips thinned, but then she smiled, dismissing her thoughts. "He was a brave man, Mr. Potter. He fought very hard for the Light."
For a moment Harry stared down at his blanket and picked at the satin ribbon that hemmed the edge. "My mum was really brave, too. Hagrid said it was my mum's sacrifice that saved my life." Without realising he was doing it, his hand raised and he rubbed at the lightning bolt scar.
"You were the world to your mother, Mr. Potter. A mother's love is not only strong, but sacred magic. It's no surprise to me that you survived the Killing Curse." She smiled and chuckled softly. "Witches understand such magic more than wizards do."
Harry was suddenly feeling infinitely sad. As much as he wanted to know more about his parents, he didn't want to know how brave they'd been in dying for him. It might have been brave, noble even, but Harry only felt cheated and their loss was all that much harder to bear when he'd spent the last ten years in a cupboard wishing to be with them.
Harry changed the subject by picking up the textbook. "Let me read you this, Madame Pomphey..."
"Pomfrey, Mr. Potter."
He blushed at having mispronounced her name. "Sorry. Can I read you this?" The Healer nodded and Harry set his nose, almost to the page, and began to read the paragraph on the Wingardium Leviosa Spell smoothly.
"Well done, Mr. Potter!" she praised and Harry let out a small breath he was holding. He put down the book, closed it, and sniffed the soup. She made a mental note to set up an appointment with an Oculist as he had squinted and nearly forced his nose against the page to read it.
"Did your aunt and uncle encourage you to read?" she asked.
The smile that had radiated upon Harry's face was abruptly gone. He dipped his head and hid behind his fringe as he pushed away the tray of food.
"Oh, do please eat, Mr. Potter. You're quite thin and we'd really like you to put on some weight." Poppy sighed in slight frustration. She really ought not to have mentioned the aunt and uncle.
"Where's the Dark Man?" Harry asked shyly. He paid no attention to the food.
"Dark Man?" Poppy frowned.
"He rescued me... I think. I don't know if I was dreamin' or not. Was I? Is the Dark Man real?" Harry curled his fists into the hem of his pyjama shirt. He held his breath hopefully.
"Ah! You must mean Professor Snape! He's the one that rescued you," Poppy said with a smile.
Harry let out the breath he was holding. "So, the Dark Man's real?" Harry asked with his bright green eyes glittering.
"Professor Snape is real, Mr. Potter. I'm sure he'll come and visit when his classes are finished. He's contacted me twice, so far, to see how you were doing."
Harry's green eyes sparkled at that information. Poppy rose, and spoke slyly, "I think Professor Snape would be disappointed if he found out you'd not eaten that lovely lunch."
As she suspected, Harry didn't want to disappoint his rescuer. He picked up the spoon and began eating the vegetable soup.
At that moment three students arrived. One was a bushy-haired girl, the second was a very blonde headed boy with a pained scowl on his face, and the third was a rather vacant looking, overweight boy.
Madame Pomfrey surveyed the three first years. "And where have you three come from?" she asked as she walked over to the blonde that was supported by the other two. Blood on the back of his head stained his hair.
"Professor Snape sent us, Madame," replied the girl.
"Over there," Poppy indicated an empty bed next to Harry's. "Can you tell me what happened?"
"He fell," said the overweight boy simply. The blonde scowled at him darkly.
"Professor Snape was showing us pickled shrivel figs and Vincent and Gregory were throwing one back and forth when they dropped it. Draco stepped on it, slipped, and hit his head," clarified the girl.
"Thank you, Miss Granger."
"Know-it-all Mud...!" began Draco with a sneer.
"Finish that word, Mr. Malfoy and I'll wash your mouth out with soap as soon as I patch you up," warned Poppy.
"But she is a Mudblood," Gregory Goyle interjected stupidly.
With a flick of her wand, Goyle's mouth foamed with soap. He spluttered and ran to the sink in the loo.
Harry was snickering until the girl, Hermione Granger, glared at him. "That's not funny!"
Harry blanched and hid behind his book. Hermione saw the book and her eyes lit up. "That's our first year Charms textbook!" She moved over towards Harry. "I've read the whole thing. Have you?"
Harry's finger trailed over the spine. He shook his head, not looking up.
"It's really a fascinating subject. Although, Potions are too, but Professor Snape is just a bit..." she hesitated, glancing at Draco who glared warningly at her. "Well, he's just strict, is all. What House are you in?"
"None," replied Harry. He was feeling a bit overwhelmed by this girl who seemed to talk a mile a minute.
Hermione blinked, but before she could say anything, Draco interrupted, "I've seen you before! In Madame Malkin's shop. Who are you?"
"Quiet," Poppy ordered. "Miss Granger, you need to get to your next class, but first check on Mr. Goyle and if he's all right, take him with you."
"Yes, Madame." Hermione went to obey, and soon she was tugging Goyle out of the Infirmary.
Madame Pomfrey began to examine Draco's wound on the back of his head. He winced exaggeratedly for his audience, Harry. "You're going to have a bit of a bump, Mr. Malfoy. How does it feel, now?" asked the Healer.
"Better." Gingerly he touched the bump that was forming. "Ow!"
"I told you so. Lie down. You're going to be here for the rest of the day." Poppy turned away from Draco. "Mr. Potter, eat your lunch before it gets cold."
"Yes, ma'am," he dutifully replied. He started to dip his spoon into his bowl of soup when Draco interrupted him.
"You're Harry Potter?" he asked. "Can I see the scar?"
Harry didn't quite like the gleam in the young boy's grey eyes, but he shrugged and lifted the fringe off his forehead so Draco could see the lightning bolt scar.
Draco slipped off his bed to get a better look. "That's wicked!" He sat on the edge of Harry's bed. "Is it true you got it killing You-Know-Who?"
"Madame Pomfrey said it was my mother that saved me." Again Harry shrugged, and pushed his tray of food away. "I kind of think it's silly to think a baby killed a full grown wizard."
"Yeah," agreed Draco with a nod. "I've always thought so, too. I bet your mother had some special magic. Mothers always have magic more powerful than fathers do when it comes to their kids." Draco held out his hand. "Draco Malfoy!"
Harry shyly took his hand, then grinned. "Harry Potter."
By the time Snape had finished with his last class of the day he was ready to visit Harry in the Infirmary to see how he was doing. As he emerged from the dungeons he was walking across the Entrance Hall when a tall, stately figure pushed through the main door.
"Lucius," Snape greeted coolly and with a polite nod.
Lucius inclined his head and smiled charmingly. "Severus. I was told by Madame Pomfrey that my son suffered an injury in your class today."
Snape walked beside the Malfoy patriarch. "Mr. Goyle and Mr. Crabbe thought it might be amusing to toss about a pickled shrivel fig," he elaborated. "Draco, unfortunately, slipped upon it when it was dropped to the floor and hit the back of his head."
Malfoy's expression darkened. "I warned Draco about those two oafs. He chose them as his bodyguards, didn't he?"
"So it appears. They were practically glued to Draco at breakfast and in class. Draco seems to have nothing but contempt for them, though," observed Snape.
"As I have for their imbecilic fathers." Lucius shook his head. "Draco cannot possibly have a future if those two tag along. Are there any other prospects in his year?"
"Blaise Zabini would be one to cultivate," replied Snape. "I understand you have re-opened negotiations with Zabini's Import business?" Lucius gave a curt nod in reply. "Then it would be advantageous if those two became friends."
Lucius nodded in consideration. "Anyone else? Or, anyone else that would be a problem?"
"Are you truly wishing to sever ties with Vadim Parkinson?" asked Snape shrewdly.
"He has been bargaining for my Magical Artefacts Collection. I believe Parkinson is one of those in Secret, Severus."
Snape nodded. "He bears watching, then. Miss Parkinson had her eye close upon Draco at breakfast this morning and would have sat beside him in class were it not for the two bookends. I suggest that Draco remain polite, but do nothing to encourage her flirtation."
The two men quieted as they entered the Infirmary. They both froze as they saw Harry Potter seated on Draco Malfoy's bed as they were both deeply engrossed in a game of wizarding chess.
"You have to be discerning when listening to your men if the chess set doesn't belong to you," instructed Draco. "Now, this set actually belongs to Madame Pomfrey, so the pieces are more neutral and a bit more trustworthy with their advice."
"Still, it's better not to rely on them completely, right?" asked Harry.
"Yeah." He moved a bishop, then looked up at Harry. "Are you seeing ahead, yet?"
Harry frowned studiously down at the game board. "Trying, but I'm not doing so well. What do you see?"
Draco hmm'd a moment, then replied, "Since you're a novice, I would expect you to go for the more obvious move. See here? You'd probably block my bishop so he can't get to your king. However, the more strategic move is here with the queen."
"You'd take her!" exclaimed Harry.
"Yeah, but then, look here." Very carefully Draco indicated the next five moves that would prove a win for Harry. He smiled.
"Wow!" Harry grinned.
Lucius chose that moment to step further in and up to his son's bed. "Well, you do not appear half as bad as Madame Pomfrey made it sound, Draco."
"Father!" Draco beamed and although he started to jump up from his bed to embrace his father, he resisted the temptation to get overly emotional. His father gave him an approving nod. "Father, this is... this is my friend, Harry Potter! Harry, this is my father."
Lucius' smile froze for a brief moment, before a touch of warmth touched it. Harry looked up, very open at first, but then he saw a calculating look in the older Malfoy's eye that made him nervous. He cast his eyes downward and mumbled a greeting.
To Harry's horror, the man was raising his cane and he was about to back away when Snape intervened smoothly. "Speak up, Mr. Potter. It is never polite to mumble." Snape lightly touched the small boy's shoulder in reassurance.
"Sorry," he said a bit more bravely. "It's nice to meet you, Mr. Malfoy."
Lucius graciously inclined his head to the boy. "And you as well, Mr. Potter. So, you and Draco have become friends?"
"Yeah, I mean, I guess so, sir. We were just both in here and bored and then Madame Pomfrey gave us the chessboard, and Draco's been teaching me." Harry let out a nervous breath and leaned a bit more towards Snape.
"Ah. And what House are you in, Mr. Potter?" asked Lucius very slyly.
Harry glanced up at Snape who replied, "Mr. Potter had an accident that kept him from meeting the Hogwarts Express so he has not, yet, been Sorted."
Lucius smiled again, but this time he looked to Harry like someone who'd just been given something he wanted. Smoothly he said to Harry, "I'm sure that whatever House the Hat Sorts you into will suit you well, Mr. Potter." Lucius then looked up at Snape. "If you don't mind, I would like to speak to my son before I return home, Severus."
Snape nodded and nudged Harry back to his own bed. Lucius, with a sharp wave of his wand, cast a Muffliato Spell so that he and Draco could talk without being overheard.
"How is your head, Draco?" asked his father. Lucius gently grasped his son's chin so that he could lower his head for him to examine the injury.
"It's feeling better, but I have a pretty big bump, Father," replied Draco.
"I can see it." Lucius removed one glove from one hand and very delicately touched the bump that looked worse than it was. Draco let out a small hiss. "It still hurts?" Lucius asked with a touch of concern.
Draco nodded slowly. "It just mostly stings."
"I am certain after a good night's sleep it should all be well." For a brief moment, Lucius touched his son's cheek with his fingertips. Draco smiled softly. Although Lucius and Narcissa had been affectionate parents when he was smaller, Lucius' affections had become more reserved once Draco received his Hogwarts letter. The eleven year old desperately missed curling up beside his father in the study where Lucius would read to him in front of the wide fireplace.
Lucius seated himself on the edge of the bed. "I am not pleased in hearing of your association with Crabbe and Goyle, Draco. They are hardly your intellectual equals and they will be more of a hindrance to your future than an asset."
Draco dared to lean against his father's arm and was surprised when the older man draped it gently across his shoulders. "Some of the big boys said they'd beat me up, Father."
Lucius could hear the fear in his son's voice, and although he knew he ought to be the aloof man his father had taught him to be, Lucius couldn't ignore his child's need for him. He pulled the boy closer to his side. The 'big boys' Lucius knew could only be those children of Death Eaters that had not been as clever as he to escape Azkaban, or in some cases, the Dementor's Kiss.
"Work on the spells I showed you and go to Severus if you need help, Draco," Lucius instructed.
"I have been, but Professor Snape can't watch me all the time, Father."
Smartly he patted Draco's shoulder and withdrew his arm as he put his glove back on. "No, he cannot. I suggest that you cultivate a friendship with Blaise Zabini and I believe that Harry Potter would be a good ally for you to have. Even if he follows his parents into Gryffindor."
Draco looked appalled. "But I can't be friends with him if he's a Gryffindor!"
Lucius frowned darkly down at his son. "If the Malfoy name is to completely recover from your grandfather's foolish mistakes, then we cannot afford to be so choosy in our associations, Dragon. I expect you to take the lessons I taught you, to consult Severus when needed, and to make those... friendships... that will make our Name strong once again." He touched the silver serpent head of his cane to Draco's chin. "Am I understood?"
Draco nodded, but his expression was of misery. Lucius moved the cane and gently cupped his chin, making his son meet his eyes. "This is not going to be easy, Dragon. Not only are you facing the inherent prejudice that Slytherin faces, but you are also facing the mistakes of your grandfather and..." his voice lowered, "and those of your father."
Draco glanced up into his father's eyes and then slipped his hand into Lucius' now gloved hand. He squeezed. "I can always write to you, though, can't I, Father?"
Lucius stood and gently extricated his hand from his son's grip. It felt like it had only been yesterday that he'd held his child on his lap, comforted him during a thunderstorm, or tended to his scrapes and bruises when he played too hard. Draco was growing so fast, but still he needed his father. Lucius brushed the boy's hair off his forehead and then touched his fingertips one last time to the boy's cheek.
"You may write to me everyday if you wish, Dragon. I expect you, though, to heed my advice." He leaned down and whispered, "Be rid of Crabbe and Goyle."
"Yes, Father," Draco spoke softly. Just as Lucius turned to end the Silencing Spell, Draco stopped him. "I... I l-love you, father."
Lucius ended the spell, smiled at his son, and touched his cheek once more before turning away. Draco smiled outwardly and inwardly as well. The change in his father, in the way he had begun treating him more as an adult had been hard for Draco to take. Knowing that his father still cared, still loved him, made it all easier. He also breathed a small sigh of relief in knowing he could rid himself of the two buffoon bookends, Crabbe and Goyle.
As Lucius raised the Silencing Spell that kept he and Harry from hearing the elder Malfoy converse with his son, Snape sat down in a vistors chair beside Harry. Harry was watching the two Malfoys with hooded curiosity.
Snape studied the boy as he sat and watched through his fringe. His body was turned away, but there was a subtle sneakiness to him that Snape knew he'd never have gotten from his father, James. James Potter had been brash, loud, always doing his best to be noticed by everyone. The Potions Master found it curious that so far, in this child who did his best to be unobtrusive, had yet to show anything, other than his physical appearance, that made Snape think of James Potter.
"I can't hear them," Harry observed after a few minutes as he surreptitiously moved pieces on the chessboard.
Snape removed the chessboard from Harry by levitating it back to a shelf that held fiction books, colouring books, and a few other quiet games. For a brief moment Harry's lips thinned in irritation before the expression was replaced by one of quiescent obedience.
"Lucius cast a spell that keeps their conversation private," explained Snape.
"It's rude," muttered Harry as he slipped back under his blankets but remained sitting up.
Snape's eyebrow rose. "Is it? What business is it of yours what they are discussing?"
Harry lowered his head, regretting having spoken. He had learned that he needed to keep his eyes and ears always aware of his surroundings, and that especially meant conversations. There were many times when the Dursleys spoke to each other, thinking that Harry wasn't listening, when he learned what to expect from them. He was able to learn, not just from Uncle Vernon's temper whether or not he had a good day at work. A bad day meant that Uncle Vernon would drink later and if Harry wasn't good about staying out from under the large man's feet, he'd be his uncle's tension relief.
"Mr. Potter," the tone, firm and unyielding, had Harry snap his head up and locking his gaze onto the older wizard's. "I will tell you this now, and expect you to remember it. I do not ask questions just to hear my own voice. If I ask you something, I expect an answer, even if you do not know the answer. Am I understood?"
Harry nodded, then spoke quickly, "Yes, sir."
"Now tell me, what does it matter to you what they may be discussing?" Snape asked firmly.
Looking through his long, messy fringe Harry watched the touches of affection between Draco and his father. He felt a tight sting of jealousy and turned sharply away.
"Mr. Potter," Snape's voice took on a warning edge. He still wanted a verbal answer.
Harry shrugged. "Habit," he muttered.
Snape nodded, understanding much more than the small boy realised. He had learned that it was easier to hide from his drunken father if he kept his ears open. It was one of those habits that had carried on into adulthood. Snape did not care for eavesdroppers, but as a Death Eater and spy, eavesdropping, or the reading of lips, and other talents, had kept him alive.
"Would you care to tell me what you've been up to today?" Snape asked the boy in order to divert him from the Malfoys.
Harry relaxed visibly and looked up. "I did some reading of those books in the corner, but then Madame Pomfrey had a few textbooks that I looked at. They've got a lot of big words and strange words that don't even sound like English." He smiled and lifted the first years Charms textbook. "I learned about the Wingardum Leverosa Spell."
Snape winced at the bad pronunciation. He was glad it was Flitwick teaching Charms and not him.
"I looked at the Potions textbook, too. Madame Pomfrey said you teach that. It looks a little like my Chemistry class. Is it?" Harry asked.
"Potions has its similarities, I suppose," Snape replied vaguely. "Was Chemistry a class you enjoyed?"
"Sort of. I think I would have liked it better if Dudley hadn't been my lab partner." Harry dropped his head and curled his fists into the covers of his bed.
Snape sighed quietly. It was not going to be easy for the boy to talk about the abuse at the hands of his relatives if he kept shutting down so quickly.
Just then, Lucius ended his discussion with his son. The Silencing Spell was ended, as well, and Lucius took a moment to say farewell to Harry. He stopped by Harry's bed. The smile he gave the boy made Snape wary. There was genuine warmth in it; not something anyone saw everyday.
Harry looked up at the imposing man who addressed him in a soft voice of consideration, "Thank you for your kindness to my son, Mr. Potter. I look forward to hearing what House you have been sorted in."
"Me too, sir!" Harry smiled shyly.
Lucius nodded then turned his attention to Snape. "Severus, I think we need to talk. Would you come by the Manor for tea this Saturday?"
Snape eyed him shrewdly, but then nodded. "I will owl you with a time that is convenient, Lucius."
"Very good, Severus." Lucius bowed slightly and then swept out.
Snape knew that it had taken every scrap of Malfoy ingenuity to escape a life sentence in Azkaban. Abraxas Malfoy had been a harsh parent to Lucius and Snape had healed the teenager of more cuts and bruises than even himself of the injuries his father inflicted upon him. Then again, Snape's father had been a Muggle and so, unlike Abraxas, he did not have access to magic, or the Unforgivables.
Yes, Lucius was often punished with a Crucio. The Crucio Relief Potion Snape had developed had been for his older friend. Snape, himself, had not been dealt any punishment by the Cruciatus Curse. Lucius was, understandably, completely terrified of his father.
When Draco had been born was the only time Lucius had ever wept. He was thankful for his child, but he was also entirely unsure that he could be a father, a normal father. Especially since Abraxas had promised the newborn grandson to Voldemort.
That was when Lucius made the decision to get out from under the hard hand of the Dark Lord. It was impossible without visiting death upon Narcissa and Draco so Snape had begun to teach Lucius Occlumency to protect his thoughts from Voldemort. That had not been as difficult as Snape had expected. Lucius had been hiding his true self from his father the moment the elder wizard had cruelly punished him with the Cruciatus Curse.
During the First Death Eater Trials It was Dumbledore, of all wizards, who suggested that Lucius make the claim that he had been under the Imperius Curse first by his father (at least that was a half-truth) and then by various Death Eaters including the Dark Lord. Dumbledore had sworn before the Wizengamot that Lucius had indeed been under the Imperius by claiming that he had Legilimensed the young wizard and had discovered evidence of Mental Tampering.
Lucius, like Snape, lived with the constant fear that the Dark Lord would return, and they would have no choice but to return to his side. Snape, of course, would resume spying for Dumbledore, if it was needed. Lucius had made a similar offer to Dumbledore, but the Headmaster had refused the offer, since he was, he had said, considering Lucius' family.
Since the Dark Lord's death, Lucius and Snape had rarely spoken to each other. Snape, content to remain a teacher along with its near anonymity, did not entirely feel comfortable around Lucius who had become more social than his father ever was. The man's inveterate politicking and false charm unnerved Severus. Lucius was the the consummate Slytherin, and out of preservation his intelligence and charm kept him close to people like Minister Fudge, the Hogwarts Board of Governors, and any other contact that would continue to help him restore the honor to the Malfoy name. If he wasn't attending some social function, then he and Narcissa were hosting their own parties. Snape preferred his potions and solitude.
The invitation to tea at Malfoy Manor brought Snape's attention back to the present. It wasn't that he was surprised by the invitation. He had gone to tea many times before. It was that in recent years Lucius had not extended an invitation because he knew Snape hoarded his privacy like a dragon hoarded its gold. That, and both Snape and Lucius knew that Narcissa always felt that tea with Snape meant that she had tacit permission to play matchmaker.
As Snape accepted the invitation, it was only as Lucius was leaving the Infirmary that he recalled Narcissa's past matchmaking efforts. With a sigh, he pinched the bridge of his nose. He didn't dare to guess what witch she might have in mind for him this time.
3 Sept 1991
Draco was released from the Infirmary the next day, but he came back during lunch and dinner to visit Harry. It was at dinner that Madame Pomfrey told Harry he would be released before breakfast the next day.
Draco had brought up a collection of Chocolate Frogs that he and Harry were sharing now. "You think you'll get Sorted tomorrow, Harry?"
"Yeah. Dumbledore came by right before you did and told me that as soon as Madame Pomfrey let me go, I'd be Sorted." Harry opened a box and caught the Chocolate Frog as it leapt free.
Draco glanced at his Wizard Card and was disappointed to find that it was Dumbledore. Again. He tossed it aside. "Do you have a preference on what House you'd like to go into?"
Harry shrugged. "I don't know. Hagrid was really putting Slytherin down a lot, but after meeting Professor Snape, and you, I'm thinking he might not be entirely right."
Draco hid the smug smile that threatened the corners of his mouth. "Well, it does have an unfortunate reputation, but Professor Snape is a really great Head of House. I think he pays more attention to his Snakes than any other Head does with their House."
"What's he like? I mean, as your Head?" asked Harry as he finished his chocolate frog and wiped his sleeve across his mouth.
"Well," said Draco thoughtfully. "He's strict. I mean, everyone knows he can be kind of a... hm... well, a git in Potions class, but he has to be. It can be really dangerous, you know, and in all the years he's been teaching, he's the only Potions Master that never had a kid get killed in class." Draco smirked at Harry's somewhat green expression. "Snape's pretty good to us Snakes, though. A lot of the other Houses, Gryffindor especially, are going to say that Snape favours us 'cause no one ever sees him giving his Snakes detentions or taking away points."
"So he let's you get away with stuff?" Harry asked incredulously.
"See? It looks like that, but Snape doesn't let anyone get away with anything. He doesn't punish us in public unless we've done something really stupid and wrong. Like yesterday in Potions? Pansy Parkinson, who's real jealous of the Mud... uhm... Granger? Well, she thought she'd be real smart and try to sabotage Granger's potion. Pansy's not too smart, though, and she's terrible with Potions. She tossed some extra Applewhite into Granger's potion, but instead of a big bang, the potion just kind of fizzled. Granger got glared at, and she just apologised a lot. She didn't know what Pansy did."
"Did Snape know?" asked Harry with wide eyes.
"Oh yeah!" Draco snickered. "I think Snape's got like magic eyes in the back of his head or something. He knew! Later, in the Slytherin common room, Snape showed up and lectured Pansy in front of the entire House!" Draco giggled and Harry smiled.
"So, anyway, Snape was lecturing her on what could have happened if she'd selected the wrong ingredient to throw in Granger's cauldron. Then, when she was crying, Snape then made her go stand in the corner and he stayed in the common room for an hour answering questions about homework."
"Isn't that kinda like what parents do?" asked Harry, colouring just a little at how stupid the question sounded.
"Well, he is kind of a parent, isn't he?" Draco replied. He then leaned forward and whispered, "Did you know that Snape really watches over us firsties?"
"Like how," Harry asked, equally as quiet as Draco.
Draco's cheeks pinked before he replied, "Well, my first night here, I was sorta missing my parents, you know?"
Harry really didn't, but he understood the emotion that underscored his friend's words.
"Anyway, I couldn't get to sleep, so Snape gave me hot chocolate and talked to me 'til I felt better." Draco smiled, and although he blushed a bit deeper, he didn't seem to care about it.
"Wow," breathed Harry. "Do you know what any of the other Houses are like?"
"Well, there's Gryffindor and Professor McGonagall's their Head. She's really stern and kinda prune-faced. She can be scary, I think. She's old, too. Father says that she was a real tough teacher and he thinks Snape learned some of his scowls from her." Draco giggled and Harry smiled.
"So, what are Gryffindors? From what I've been hearing, Gryffindors and Slytherins really don't like each other. Is that true?"
Draco nodded. "Yeah. Gryffindors are always trying to be heroic, which isn't bad, but they're real noisy about it. Like, 'we're the best! see how great we are?' and so on. Snape says we Snakes have to stick together because it's usually the Gryffindors that are the bullies. They're always..." he frowned, trying to recall what his Head of House had said at the welcoming speech. "Oh yeah, Gryffindors need an enemy to vanquish, and if there isn't one, then they pick on Slytherins."
Harry frowned. "That sucks."
"Yeah, it does. And they have been kind of jerks, well, except for that Mud... I mean, that Granger girl."
"Hermione?"
"Yeah, her. There were some Gryffindor boys, I think sixth years, that were teasing Blaise, and Millicent, in the Entrance Hall. And, one of them was actually going to hex them with Tarantellegra when Granger stepped between them and she DID hex them both with some really icky, cool spell that made them sneeze for an hour!"
Both boys laughed at the visual.
"Oh yeah," blurted Draco, "and Snape saw her, too! Some of the older Slytherins say that Snape never gives points to Gryffindor, but he gave Granger 10 points for sticking up for Slytherins against her own House!"
"That's great! Hermione sounds pretty nice." Harry had opened his last chocolate frog and glanced at the wizarding card. It was Dumbledore. "What's that name you keep starting to call her."
Draco bowed his head. "Mudblood," he said quietly.
"That doesn't sound too nice," observed Harry. "What's it mean?"
"It isn't nice," agreed Draco. "It means anyone who isn't born to magical parents. Both Granger's parents are Muggles."
"My mother was Muggleborn," said Harry softly.
"Yeah, I know." Draco shrugged. "Snape specifically told all us Slytherins he doesn't want to hear that word used, but there are sixth and seventh year kids that use it all the time." He raised his head suddenly. "My father doesn't like it either and would really be mad if I was even thinking of saying it, but it's kinda hard not to when you hear it all the time."
Harry did know. His own aunt and uncle never used his name so when others used his name, it was strange. Sometimes, he even forgot to answer because he expected to hear himself referred to as 'freak'.
Harry decided to change the subject. "So what are Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw like?"
Draco smiled knowledgeably. He was really having fun answering all of Harry's questions. "Ravenclaw are all the supposedly smart students but honestly every House has smart and stupid students. I think they just like books a lot."
"I like books," said Harry considering the information he was being given. "Who's their Head of House."
Draco grinned, "That'd be Professor Flitwick! He teaches Charms and he's short and laughs a lot but don't let that fool you. Father told me that Professor Flitwick was champion Dueler for England for ten years in a row! No one's beat that record!"
"Not even Professor Snape?" asked Harry in an awed hush.
"Well, I think Professor Snape could beat him, but he's never competed. There was that... uh... well, stuff with the Dark Lord... and all." Harry nodded. He did not understand entirely but he had some idea of what Draco was hinting at. Draco hastily changed the subject. "Last is Hufflepuff! Hufflepuff is where all the students that are real big on loyalty go. They're usually the nicest students and they're real easy to get along with, even if you're a Slytherin. Professor Sprout is their Head of House. She teaches Herbology and she's a little... uhm... motherly, but not too bad. I just hate Herbology."
"That's plants and gardens, right?" asked Harry.
"Yeah. It's dirt," grimaced Draco.
"I used to plant my aunt's garden," Harry offered quietly. Working on his aunt's garden was never the punishment Aunt Petunia meant it to be. It allowed him to be outside, and away from his relatives for a few hours each day. The weather wasn't always pleasant, but it was far better than the darkness of his cupboard.
Draco glanced sideways at Harry. "You didn't like it, did you?"
Harry shrugged, not willing to provide any more information than needed. "It wasn't bad."
"Our house elves do the gardening and all the work that's gross," Draco said a little imperiously.
Snape arrived just at that moment and Draco scrambled off Harry's bed. "Mr. Malfoy, if you leave now, you will be in your common room before curfew strikes."
"Yes, sir!" Draco turned to Harry. "Good night, Harry, and good luck on your Sorting tomorrow." Draco then turned to Snape. "Good night, Professor."
With a nod to the small boy, Draco grinned and then ran out of the Infirmary.
Harry looked up at Snape and smiled. "I see Draco's been keeping you entertained, Mr. Potter," he glanced down balefully at all the empty chocolate frog boxes. "And he's been influencing your diet as well, I see." With a swish of his wand, the boxes were gone, but not the cards. Snape seated himself in the visitor's chair and gathered up the scattered wizarding cards. He began thumbing through them.
"Mostly Professor Dumbledore, but I got a Nicolas Flamel," said Harry showing him the card of the very old wizard who had his back turned at the moment.
Snape nodded in approval. "A rare one."
"That's what Draco said." Harry smiled and deposited the card on top of a small pile of other cards. It appeared that Harry had been introduced to one of a wizard boy's favourite pastimes; that of collecting wizard cards.
"How have you been today, Mr. Potter?" asked Snape as he put aside the Dumbledore cards.
"Bored, actually," he replied. "Except when Draco came to visit. Oh! And Professor Dumbledore visited, too!"
Snape's eyes narrowed just a bit. "Did he?" It had bothered him that Dumbledore had shown no interest in what Snape had discovered about the Potter boy and his relatives. In fact, the Headmaster had been somewhat cavalier about the abuse.
4 Sept 1991
Snape was called to the Headmaster's office during his free period. Snape had hoped to visit Harry, but hurried up to Dumbledore's Tower office to see if the old wizard was ready to talk about what Snape had discovered about Harry and his relatives.
Snape was ushered into Dumbledore's office and promptly offered one of the old wizard's ubiquitous lemon drops. Snape just shook his head and seated himself in a chair on the other side of the Headmaster's desk.
"Have you read Poppy's report, yet, Headmaster?" asked Snape.
Dumbledore looked up from his tin of lemon drops. "Oh quite, yes I have. Distressing thing, wasn't it? However, Poppy says that Harry is recovering rather nicely and it should be another day or two when he can get Sorted and start his classes."
Snape frowned slightly. "I did mention, did I not, that the uncle burned everything with the exception of the boy's owl?" Snape knew he had told the old man on the night he'd brought Harry to Hogwarts. That had been a hurried report, but he did not think Dumbledore had forgotten any of it. The old wizard wasn't as dotty as he pretended to be.
"Yes, yes you did. Well, after he's Sorted then I'm sure Minerva, as his Head of House, will be able to take him to Diagon Alley."
Snape stiffened. "Are you so sure he'll be Sorted into Gryffindor?"
Dumbledore's eyes twinkled as he smiled and Snape ground his teeth together in irritation. "With Lily and James as his parents? It would be unusual if he were Sorted elsewhere." Dumbledore's gaze narrowed in scrutiny as he peered over his half-moon spectacles at the Potions Master. "Are you thinking he might be Sorted into another House, Severus?"
"Lily would have made a good Slytherin." The moment he uttered that, Snape knew he had said the wrong thing.
"Perhaps, but the fact is Lily was in Gryffindor and it was Harry who defeated the Dark Lord. I do believe the boy's destiny is fixed, Severus."
If Snape were to pursue that assumption, he would wind up in an argument he would lose, and so he changed the subject. "Be that as it may, Headmaster, I am more concerned with the child's health and welfare. His injuries were unacceptable."
Dumbledore nodded sadly. "Very true, Severus. I suppose it was wrong of me to think that Petunia would look upon Harry as her beloved sister's child and not as an interloper. I am considering some precautions to take when Harry is not at Hogwarts over the summer."
"Will you find a new guardian for him?" asked Snape. A small tug at his heart didn't really wish to know the answer.
Dumbledore shook his head. "There is no need, my boy. Harry will be going back to his aunt and uncle."
Snape nearly fell from his chair in shock. "Are you mad, Albus? They nearly killed the boy! They burnt everything and then threw him into a cupboard after beating him! How can you even think of sending him back to them?"
Dumbledore held up a hand to calm the younger wizard. "I do not condone what the Dursleys did, Severus, but the fact remains that it is the Blood Magic of Harry's mother that is keeping him safe."
"From the Dark Lord's followers, yes, but they do nothing to keep the child safe from those Muggles! Headmaster, surely there must be..."
Dumbledore interrupted. "Severus, although I am pleased that you appear to be so attached to the boy, there is nothing to dissuade me. I do realise the folly of sending Harry into the arms of a family that does not love him, but there are several protection spells that I will cast upon him to keep them from hurting him."
Snape's lips thinned tightly. He knew that if there were a way to hurt Harry, even if they only could verbally, they would do so.
"My boy, I am certain Harry will continue to thrive here at Hogwarts. He will eat well, make friends, and we will all watch over him. You needn't worry about his summers."
Snape's scowl darkened, but he said nothing. He knew all too well what it would mean for Harry to return to those Muggles. After all, it had been no better for him.
The one time he had spoken to an adult had been the last time he had ever trusted one again. His own Head of House, Horace Slughorn, who had always appeared to be somewhat of a genial, caring sort of man, had listened to Snape's fears and then had betrayed him. The man had written to his parents. He hadn't known, of course. Not until he returned home.
The beating his father had given him that summer when he returned, reluctantly, had taken him all of the summer to recover from. Had it not been for Lily, who did her best to nurse his wounds and kept his secret, even from her parents, he was certain he would have died, of shame, if not from his wounds.
Snape rose stiffly from his chair. He couldn't listen to any more of the Headmaster's sugary drivel. "If there is nothing else, Headmaster?"
"Not at all, my boy." Albus waved him away, and Snape strode out of the office.
He had made a promise to Lily, and to Harry. He meant to keep it, no matter what he had to do.
"Would you like to tell me what the Headmaster's visit was about?" Snape dearly hoped the old man hadn't been so callous as to tell Harry that he'd be returning to his relatives.
"Just came to say hello. He was telling me some about my father and his friends." Harry bowed his head and picked at the blanket over his legs.
Snape frowned. "What is wrong, Harry?"
Harry shrugged and Snape swore he heard a small sniffle. He leaned closer and touched the boy's chin so he would look up. "Did the Headmaster upset you, child?"
"Yeah, well no. I mean, I don't think he meant to and I didn't show that I was bugged because he just kinda kept on..."
Snape interrupted Harry and asked softly, "Harry, what did the Headmaster say?"
"That my dad would be so proud of me because I'm the hero that everyone's been waiting for and that even though my mum and dad died, I should be happy because they..." Harry paused, wanting to get the exact phrase that Dumbledore had spoken. He let out a sigh, "that I should be happy that they loved me so much, they..." he gulped, "...sacrificed themselves..." his voice dropped to a nearly, inaudible whisper. "For me." Harry shook his head. Tears that he couldn't stop came unbidden and he felt like crawling back into his cupboard to hide.
Harry hadn't been 'happy' when the Headmaster told him that he should be. Didn't the old man understand that more than anything Harry just wanted his parents back? And he was mad, too. Mad at his parents for their 'sacrifice' and that made his stomach hurt.
Harry's head shot up and Snape pulled back. He did not expect the anger that glimmered from the boy's tear-filled eyes. "My parents were STUPID!" Harry shouted. "They got killed 'cause they wouldn't stop fighting Voledemort an' he got mad an' he killed 'em! They left me! Why should I be happy about that?"
The little boy scrambled from his bed and ran for the loo. He slammed the door shut behind himself. Snape followed Harry and was stymied by the fact that the upset child's accidental magic had, it appeared, locked a door that didn't have a lock.
6 Sept 1991
Friday morning, Poppy escorted Harry to the Great Hall. His eyes darted about worriedly until he saw Draco, who smiled guardedly at him, and then Hermione, who waved at him. Glancing up at the staff table, he breathed a sigh of relief when he saw Snape and the man simply nodded once to him. Harry realised that he had made two friends... and that maybe Professor Snape was a friend, too.
"Here, Mr. Potter." Harry, who had paused about halfway the length of the Great Hall, looked toward the stern voice of Professor Minerva McGonagall. In her hand was something that looked like a dirty piece of old felt. Next to her was a tall stool. He hurried closer and at the professor's urging, he clambered up onto the stool and seated himself.
Suddenly the Sorting Hat was dropped over his head where it fell almost to his shoulders. Harry wrinkled his nose. It smelled bad.
"You try sitting upon over 10,000 heads and then tell me how you smell, young Potter!" The Hat retorted. Harry gasped. Had it read his mind? "It is how I do my job, youngling. Now, let us see. Where might it best be for you to go?"
"Do I get a choice?" Harry asked the Hat.
"I do see several possibilities," mused the Hat. "What preference do you have?"
"I suppose... anywhere would be all right. I just don't want to lose Draco or Professor Snape as friends."
"You've never had a friend, have you?" Harry got the feeling that the Hat was smiling. "No, indeed, you haven't. Such a tenacious child! I can see how you already are towards the Malfoy boy and Snape. Do they know the friend they've made in you." The Hat hummed suddenly, and Harry frowned. "Friends. I doubt you'd make many friends, though. Not like a Hufflepuff."
"You have to be careful about who you make as friends or they will hurt you," Harry said darkly.
"Oh indeed! I couldn't agree more!" The Hat chuckled and Harry squirmed.
"I do see a bit of bravery... there. But, hmmm, is that rather more survival than true bravery?"
"I don't know what you mean?" Harry said stonily.
"You've had a hard life, child. You'll need those that will stand beside you, no matter who..." Harry felt the Hat shifting, almost turning, he thought. "There are enemies that we can see, and then there are those enemies who are blind to what truly matters. Many qualities you have, young Potter, and you would benefit in ways from any of the Houses. However, I do know what matters and so I shall send you to..."
"SLYTHERIN!"
For a moment there was silence and then came Draco's cheer as the Hat was pulled from Harry's head. A none too friendly nudge came from McGonagall as she directed him towards the Slytherin table. Happily, Harry sat down beside Draco who patted him upon the back.
Snape plastered a brief look of incredulity upon his face, for the benefit of those who glanced his way, but the truth was, he really wasn't surprised by the Hat's Sorting.
Harry was a Survivor. He'd had to be in order to reach the age of 11. Snape had no doubt that Harry had learned many of the same skills he himself had learned in his efforts to avoid first his own father, and then, the bullies at Hogwarts.
What rather pleased Snape was the absolute gobsmacked expression upon the Headmaster's face. For a moment, Snape was just the tiniest bit worried that the old wizard might have been having a heart attack. The Headmaster recovered quickly, though, and soon led all the students in a faint round of applause for Harry.
Breakfast resumed quickly as Harry renewed his friendship with Draco and met a few other Slytherins who were pleased to have him in their house.
Blaise Zabini, a gregarious sort of boy smiled winningly at Harry and, like Draco, thumped him on the back. He was also well greeted by another boy who introduced himself as Teddy Nott.
Midway through breakfast hundreds of Post Owls flew in and over their heads. Letters and packages were dropped down from the air to their recipients. Draco let out a whoop as a small package of sweets and a letter from his mother dropped into his lap. Harry, who wasn't expecting anything, was delighted when Hedwig landed by his pumpkin juice and dropped a small note by his plate.
"Hedwig!" the owl cooed happily and lightly nipped his wrist as Harry stroked her soft, feathered breast. "I'm so glad to see you."
"Wow!" gasped Blaise.
"A Snowy!" marvelled Teddy.
"She's beautiful, Harry," added Draco.
"Hedwig was a birthday present." Harry didn't offer any more information. He was busy opening the note and did not see the curious look that Draco gave him. "It's from Hagrid! He's invited 'me and my friends' to tea after classes today." Harry looked up from the note. "Want to come, Draco?"
Draco hesitated. The large man sort of scared him, and he had a really big dog, too. After a few seconds, he nodded. "Yeah. I'll go with you."
Pansy, whom Draco had been doing his best to ignore that entire morning, sneered and her reedy little voice piped up, "He's a servant, Draco. You really ought to be more careful in regards to your associations."
Draco's tummy flipped unpleasantly at the sudden fluttering of eyelashes Pansy gave him. He sneered back at her, "If he's a friend of Harry's then he's a friend of mine!"
Pansy's beady little eyes narrowed sharply and then she sniffed in derision.
Harry felt warmth suffuse his heart at Draco's words. Neither boy would realise until they were both much older what a powerful, yet subtle magic, the youngest Malfoy had invoked with his simple declaration.
Just after breakfast, Snape, who was heading to his first class of the day, was stopped by Dumbledore. "My office, Severus. Now." Dumbledore swirled away in robes of grey silk and purple velvet trimmed in gold. Snape sighed heavily, and followed.
The Headmaster was pacing before his fireplace. He turned an accusing look upon his Potions professor. "I suppose you expected this, Severus?"
"Not expected, Headmaster, but suspected it may happen. Slytherin may have the reputation of breeding Dark Lords, but it also seems to be the House where children with not so very ideal home lives get Sorted."
"I expect you to treat Harry as you do all your Snakes, Severus," replied the Headmaster sternly.
Snape kept his expression impassive. He knew what the Headmaster meant to imply; that he would be unmerciful to the boy because he resembled his father. Snape had to admit to himself that he might have done that had he not learned of the boy's situation, rescued him, and then gotten to know him a little. Harry looked like a miniature James Potter, but within the child there was a great deal that was Lily.
"Severus?" demanded the Headmaster.
Snape bowed slightly. "The boy is of my House now, Headmaster. Regardless of my feelings towards Potter's father, he is one of my Snakes and will be treated as all of them are."
Dumbledore breathed a slight breath of relief. "Good. Good. Then, as his Head, I expect you to take him on Saturday to pick up his things for school. I will have someone at Gringotts set aside a portion of galleons for the child's books." Dumbledore turned back towards the fire, and Snape left the old man's office.
Snape's brow furrowed as he wondered silently, "Why not give me his vault key?"
A seventh year Slytherin prefect escorted Harry from the Great Hall and to Slytherin House. In order to enter the common room, Harry had to give a password to a portrait of the intimidating Salazar Slytherin.
Tara Anglaise, the prefect, explained, "We change the password once a week. You'll get an auto-destruct memo with the password on it, so be sure to memorise it before it turns to ash. She showed him into the common room.
Slytherin House was deep in the dungeons below castle Hogwarts. The common room itself had six long, narrow windows that looked out over the Mer City beneath the Black Lake. That imposed a greenish tinge to the entire room. However, it was well lit by torches that flickered to life when the two Slytherins entered.
The room itself sprawled sinuously and allowed for several convenient indentations where there were tables set up with ink and parchment. The main room was furnished with heavy oak furniture upholstered in green velvet and silver trim. Against one wall was an impressive library of books.
"You're allowed access to only those books you can reach, Harry," explained Tara. "If you think you need one higher, then come to me, or Gordon Billock, the other prefect. We'll also check over any of your homework on Sundays."
"That'll help a lot," remarked Harry.
"So will your study group. Professor Snape has already approved you for Draco's study group. That consists of Teddy Nott, Millicent Bulstrode, and Pansy Parkinson. Professor Snape's office hours are posted there, by the door." Tara pointed. On Fridays, if he's not dealing with a detention, Professor Snape will come in the common room and answer any questions you might have on any subject, but mostly Potions."
"He's a good teacher?" asked Harry.
"Strict, but he's fair to us Snakes. Now, come over here. You need to review our House Rules." Tara led him to a gilt-edged board that held a series of Rules that had been neatly calligraphed in scarlet ink.
For a moment, Harry quietly read the rules to himself.
_
1) Your House is your family. Family stands together.
2) The common room does not belong to YOU. It belongs to everyone. Keep it neat.
3) Arguments with another Slytherin are only permitted in Slytherin House. Refer to the FIRST RULE.
4) Study time is QUIET time and is mandatory. You will receive schedules on a weekly basis.
5) NO ONE is allowed to skip House meetings. House Meetings are almost always scheduled.
6) The Hogwarts House Elves are not your servants. Keeping your dorm rooms and the common room clean is your responsibility.
7) Dorm inspections once a month. These are NOT scheduled. You are forewarned.
8) All meals are mandatory. No sweets in your dorms. No sweets after 8pm. Those taking a Nutrition Potion will come to me or Madame Pomfrey once a week.
9) Bedtimes:
First years - 9pm
Second thru Fourth years - 10pm
Fifth thru Sixth years - 11pm
Seventh years - Midnight
Your House is your family. Family stands together.
These are the rules I expect everyone in Slytherin to follow; to the letter. They are, however, not the only rules. You will discover in your seven years here that I will give you further guidelines and rules that you can take past the walls of Hogwarts
Finally, never forget the Secret of Slytherin:
Plan in ways a Ravenclaw finds sound
Blend like a Hufflepuff into the background
As for the Gryffindor, learn from their mistakes
And be ready to react, Slytherin, swift as a snake.
Serpens tacitus perspicasis et celeris est
Professor S. Snape
_
Tara chuckled softly. "Believe me, Harry, when you start hearing about all the other stuff the other Houses are getting away with, you might have a complaint or two." The prefect smiled. "You get used to it, though."
"What does..." Harry squinted at the Latin, sounding it out to the best of his ability. "Serpens tackytus purse pe casis eat celery... mean?
Tara suppressed a giggle and then cleared her throat. "It's the Slytherin motto, Harry. Serpens tacitus perspicasis et celeris est. It means, The Serpent is silent, observant, and swift."
Harry's eyes widened, "Wicked!"
Pretty neat, huh? At one time, they think all the Houses had mottos, but they've been lost. Professor Snape crafted that one since he felt we needed a motto." explained Tara.
"And the secret?" asked Harry as he re-read it."
"Well, it's not exactly a secret, but the professor's probably the only one who teaches us that all the students have aspects of all the Houses in them." Tara tapped the refrain. "Plan in ways a Ravenclaw finds sound - just because Ravenclaw is the House of the smart kids doesn't mean we Snakes aren't just as intelligent. Blend like a Hufflepuff to the background - meaning that we Snakes are clever and it's in our best interest to learn to adapt to a situation. As for the Gryffindor, learn from their mistakes - one of a Gryffindor's worst flaws is to jump into a situation before..."
Harry interrupted softly as he whispered, "The serpent is observant!" Harry understood that all too well. The best way for him to either stay out of trouble with his aunt and uncle, or avoid them, was to listen and observe. It didn't always work, but it had helped, and it was a habit he'd not lost.
"That's it, Harry!" declared Tara. "You've just earned your first points for Slytherin. Five points. Can you tell me what the last refrain means?"
Harry studied it, frowned slightly, then read it aloud, "And be ready to react Slytherin, swift as a snake. It means, that when you've observed and made your plans, then don't hesitate to act upon them."
"That's another five points, Harry. Professor Snape's going to be proud of you when he hears about this." Tara then beckoned to Harry and they went through a door to the right of the large bookcase that spiralled up. "The girls are on the left and is, of course, off limits to the boys. Just as the boys dorms are off limits to the girls."
Harry followed Tara. "How come you can come up here?" he asked.
"I'm a prefect, Harry." Tara smiled, and winked. "Now, Professor Snape assigned you to share a dorm with Draco since you're already friends." She tapped her wand upon a heavy wooden slat door that swung open on well-oiled hinges.
Harry peeked in cautiously. He let out a gasp as he saw the large room. There were two canopied beds draped in heavy velvet emerald curtains that were pulled back by extravagant ropes of silver satin. The bedding was of white sheets and luxuriant patchwork quilts of green velvet and silver satin. At the base of each bed was a trunk. One obviously belonged to Draco since it was monogrammed across the top with a D and an M. Harry stepped in and looked at the pristine trunk of stained pine and brass. This one looked like an old-fashioned pirate captain's trunk.
"Is this mine?" he asked.
Tara consulted a piece of parchment with notes from Snape on it. "Yes, the trunk is yours. It's empty, but you'll be able to fill it after you go to Diagon Alley on Saturday. Professor Snape says to make sure you look in your wardrobe."
Next to the large bed was a large wooden wardrobe that matched the bed. It had a drawer at the bottom. The top part allowed for the hanging of robes, shirts, and trousers and also offered floor space for shoes, trainers, and boots. Harry opened the wardrobe to find a set of school robes in black, with green piping and the Slytherin crest on it.
"Tara spoke up, "Go ahead and put them on, Harry. I'll be in the common room and I'll make any adjustments that are needed." She shut the door, leaving Harry by himself.
In a sudden fit of mischievousness, Harry ran and leaped onto the bed. He giggled at the bounce and fell instantly in love with how he sank into its softness. He gave himself just a minute or two before sliding off and smoothing the quilt and putting the fluffy pillows back against the headboard.
He took another look around the room and noticed that against one wall was a small fireplace. Flanking that were two bookshelves and over the mantle was a portrait of a black haired man with a Van Dyke beard and mustache. He stood with his arms crossed over his chest. He glared at Harry.
"Skinny thing, aren't you?" sneered the portrait.
Harry lifted his eyes to the portrait. He had seen other moving paintings since coming to Hogwarts but this was the first time one addressed him. Harry promptly crossed his arms tightly over his chest and glowered back at the portrait.
"I'm not skinny," he declared.
The portrait suddenly smiled, and chuckled. "Not a mouse, then, are you. What's your name, young Slytherin?"
"Harry Potter. Who are you?" he asked politely. The scowl remained on his face.
"Former Headmaster Phineas Nigellus Black, Mr. Potter. I watch over the boys in the dorms. Later you will meet the Bloody Baron who will fetch your Head of House should you need him."
Harry blinked. "Who's the Bloody Baron?" Whatever this person might be couldn't be good with a terrible name like that.
Former Headmaster Black smirked, "Oh dear, Mr. Potter! Who am I to ruin a surprise?" With that he turned, and left his portrait.
Harry harrumphed and then returned to looking over his room. He noted that Draco had already placed books, ink bottles, quills, parchment, and a few mementos from home, on the left side of the shelves.
Turning away from Draco's things, Harry then grabbed the uniform and robes and looked around until he saw what was probably the door to the bathroom. Putting his hand on the S-shaped handle he lowered it. It clicked and the door swung open.
The bathroom was just as large, it seemed to Harry, as the bedroom was. There were two white and black tiled cubicles that each held a shower and a loo. Fluffy, white towels and wash-cloths were neatly folded and placed on an open shelf.
He smiled. He then took off his Transfigured clothes that used to be pyjamas and got into the uniform and the robes. Seeing a clothes hamper between the two stalls, he opened it and threw in his dirty clothes. He laughed as they vanished.
"I love magic!"
Harry felt a bit left out that he didn't get to attend classes until Monday, but Professor Snape had sent him a note just after he woke up in the Infirmary that he wouldn't be allowed to attend classes until he had his wand.
Prefect Tara Anglaise was nice company, though, as she led him through the castle showing him where his classes would be, and where the library was, and more.
When Draco had his last class, they met in the Entrance Hall and Tara gave them directions to Hagrid's hut. Happy to be outside, both boys ran across the verdant grass and down a narrow path to the round, thatched hut seated on the edge of the Forbidden Forest.
Hagrid's boar hound met them, rather too enthusiastically, for both boys. Draco didn't care for anything bigger than him, and Harry, who had been chased far too many times by Aunt Marge's nasty dog, was sure the huge dog was going to eat him. They both ran from the dog and hid behind some giant hay bales. The boarhound, thinking this was a game, barked at the hidden boys.
Draco hated the barking, and was about to make a comment when he saw that Harry was curled up tightly and shivering. "Hey! Harry! Are you all right?"
"Make it go away, please!" Harry begged.
Draco scowled in sudden determination. He didn't care for the dog, but he didn't like how scared Harry looked. He jumped up and suddenly yelled gibberish at the dog.
"Go away you big, ugly, stinking...!" Draco finally verbalised.
"'Ere now! Fang!" Hagrid came out of his hut and whistled his dog over. "You there!" glared the half-Giant at the small boy standing behind a hay bale. "Whut you doin' scarin' Fang?" he demanded.
Draco backed up only to trip over Harry. Hagrid watched as the blonde-haired boy vanished as he fell. Hagrid walked over to the hay bale to see not one boy, as he thought there'd been, but two. He recognised the other at once.
"'Arry! You all righ' there, 'Arry?"
Harry unbent a little and looked awkwardly over his shoulder and up at Hagrid. "Uhm, yeah? I think so."
"Your dog scared Harry!" Draco sneered accusingly.
Hagrid looked warily down at the other little boy. "Yer Lucius Malfoy's boy."
"My father will get you sacked for hurting Harry!" Draco defended his friend the best way he knew how, by using his father's reputation as a threat.
"Draco!" Harry's fugue and fuzzy memories of Marge's dog ended abruptly as Draco's threat sank in. He scrambled to his feet. "Don't threaten Hagrid!"
Hagrid, who'd been ready to put the mini Malfoy in his place, was now puzzled and watched the brief interplay between the two boys.
"It's not a threat, Harry!" Draco was a little confused as Harry didn't seem to understand what he was doing for him. "My father isn't going to put up with someone who keeps dangerous animals around kids!"
"Yeah. Well, maybe so," Harry brushed at some straw on his robes. He sort of understood what Draco was doing. "I mean, okay, about the dog I mean, but Hagrid's my friend and I know he wouldn't hurt me. And, well, you said, any friend of mine is a friend of yours, so that makes Hagrid your friend, too. Hagrid, you wouldn't hurt Draco, would you?"
Hargrid didn't answer right away as he wasn't entirely sure what was going on. However, he did have an answer for Harry's question. "I wouldna hurt nobody, Harry. And, ifn Draco here's yer friend, why he's just as welcome here as you are."
"Yeah, well, he is." Harry turned to Draco. "Aren't you?"
Draco grinned. "Yeah. I am."
Hagrid smiled. "Well, come on in, then. Tea's brewin' and I jus' took out some fresh rock cakes."
The boys clambered over the hay bale, but both froze as Fang gambolled up to Hagrid's side.
"H-h-he's really... big," gasped Harry.
"Urgh, he's drooling!" grimaced Draco.
Hagrid efficiently took a blue cotton handkerchief out of his pocket and quickly wiped Fang's mouth. "Don' you worry yerselves about Fang. 'E's a big, ol' coward." Hagrid patted the dog's big head. "Loves ever'one, 'E do."
Neither boy intended to move, and Draco was contemplating jumping back on the other side of the hay bale.
Hagrid knelt down on one knee. "Sit you down, Fang. 'Arry? I promise you, Fang'll stay put. Now, jus' come over, slow like, an' pet his head."
Harry started to step forward, but then took a step back. Draco nudged his friend. "Can we pet him... I mean, Fang, together?"
"Sure!" encouraged Hagrid. "Come along now."
Keeping shoulder to shoulder the two boys advanced upon the dog. When they were close enough, they both stretched out a hand towards Fang's broad head. Fang met them by pushing his head against their palms. Harry was startled, but since Draco hadn't moved, he didn't either. He did hold his breath, though, and tried very hard not to think about Aunt Marge's awful dog.
Fang could smell the fear dripping off the two boys and he hated it. He was a good boy; Hagrid had always said he was. And, he liked boys. They didn't mind getting dirty and they ran just about everywhere and flew on brooms and always had sweets. Not like girls who usually squealed if he got near them. And sometimes, girls would point their little sticks and his tail would explode in sparks. No. Girls weren't nice like boys were.
When Fang felt that some of the fear was melting away, he snuffled the boys hands to get their individual scents. One boy smelled of fancy soap and fine wool. Fang decided he would be remembered as Soapy. The other boy... worried Fang. There was an aura of hurt, of sickness about him... but he smelled of smiles, too. Fang, who was by now on his feet and enjoying the attention of many pets from the two boys, needed to show Smile that Fang was a 'good boy'. He gently nudged Smile with his side, knocking the boy to his seat. Fang drooled happily as Smile laughed. Then Soapy laughed.
Fang let out a bark of joy. He'd made two new friends!
Tea was pleasant with Hagrid, although both boys had to slip their rock cakes to Fang. They smelled wonderful, but neither Draco nor Harry had the toothy strength to bite into the hard, grey cakes.
An hour before dinner, Hagrid walked with the two boys back to the castle where Draco and Harry reprised their visit with Hagrid to Teddy and Blaise.
That evening was drawn to a close as Harry and Draco, revelling in their new independence, and their new home, had a pillow fight. They fought until exhausted, and because Draco knew a Silencing Spell, the Prefects never heard their shouts and squeals as the pillows burst, emptying the feathers over the entire room. Right on time, at 9pm, they jumped under the covers of their beds, and were soon fast asleep.
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