Shifting Perceptions
Chapter 1

Disclaimer: This work of fan-fiction is not intended for personal profit. All characters utilized herein which are not creations of myself belong to J. K. Rowling.

III

July 10, 1972

Horace Slughorn sat in Albus Dumbledore's office, ruminating over what he'd seen every now and then in his Potions classes as well as elsewhere in Hogwarts. The Headmaster, meanwhile, was serenely contemplating him over his eyeglasses as he absently crunched on a sherbet lemon.

Abruptly, Dumbledore seemed to come to himself, swallowed the sherbet lemon, and spoke.

"My apologies, Horace. I seem to be a little too fond of these candies. What has you up here, away from your usual summer soirées? I seem to recall that you were quite pleased to have given Blenheim Stalk a hand in getting his book published."

The affable Head of Slytherin smiled, saying, "Yes. I had a fine dinner with him just the other day. However, this is the first occasion where you and I have both been able to get some free time. You remember that for the last two weeks you, Minerva, myself and the other professors were busy sorting out the budget allocations, and Heaven knows I've been calling in enough favours this year to get enough ingredients for next term. This leads me to what I've got to ask you to do: Call off Sirius Black and Severus Snape."

To his credit, the Headmaster's expression shifted from vague appreciation to outright concern. "What's wrong, Horace?"

"They've been wasting Potions ingredients exploding each others' cauldrons and exposing other students to unnecessary risk by attempting to sabotage each others' work. This is going to get out of hand if the years keep rolling on as they have been for this year, Albus. At least once a week in Potions classes I've seen the two of them trying to have a go at each other, and when it isn't Black and Snape doing it, it's James Potter and Snape.

"Honestly, I think Black eggs on Potter a bit, but in any case when those boys get started, they've been disruptive to my class on more than one occasion and I've had to give Potter, Black and Snape detentions at times, sometimes separately, sometimes together. One rather memorable occasion ensued when young Severus, apparently a bit on edge, threw rat tails into Potter's Forgetfulness Potion, which would have reacted violently with the fwooper feathers had Lily Evans not had the presence of mind to alert me to it in time so I could cast a stasis spell over the cauldron. Even as I did that, a hexing battle ensued in which all three boys ended up needing to go to the infirmary before I could Disarm them and reprimand them.

"I've noticed that Potter and Black have Lupin and Pettigrew as friends, but the other boys don't seem to be naturally assertive and I can't count on them to safely restrain Potter and Black. I need you to deal with this, Albus. This could be a serious problem!"

Albus Dumbledore sighed, leaned back in his chair, and cast his gaze off at something only he seemed to be able to see. After a few moments, he seemed to refocus on Horace, and said, "I am forced to admit that I have not been the best at keeping as close an eye on students as I probably should. I will admit that I am aware of these… activities, but I rather put it down to the usual schoolboy rivalries that sometimes work themselves out, much as with myself and some of the less-than-friendly people I went to school with here."

Horace scratched his jaw, considering Dumbledore's words, and replied, "Ordinarily, I might agree with you. I know when I went here I got into the occasional hexing battle, but this… whatever it is, Albus, between Black, Potter and Snape makes me nervous. There's an unholy glee they all take in going after each other, especially in Black's expression when I've caught him hexing young Severus in the hallways. It doesn't help that I have that Prefect, Lucius Malfoy, who's gone and taken young Severus under his wing. The Potters and Malfoys have never been on the best of terms, you know.

"What it boils down to is this: in the interests of keeping the peace, would you please sit those two boys down and tell them enough is enough? If nothing else I'll have more peace in my Potions classes this upcoming year. And if you have to, discuss the matter with young Potter as well, please."

Dumbledore sighed, saying, "I believe you may be making a bit much out of first-year rivalries, Horace, but I shall at least look into the matter. Would that satisfy you?"

Horace heaved himself off the chair, not for the first time wondering if he ought to research a Weight Loss Potion, but, as usual dismissed the idea, deciding he liked his food too much (and didn't like the idea of cold sweats, headaches, and other side effects he didn't feel like reciting in his head). He said, "Very well. But I strongly urge you to find a way for those boys to get along – there's something unhealthy about this particular rivalry and I didn't get where I was in Slytherin without being unobservant, Albus."

Dumbledore's eyes seemed to twinkle as he grinned. "That I also have to concede, Horace. Good day, then."

"Mm-hmm," said Horace absently as he trudged out the office door, and went past the gargoyles to speak briefly with Madam Pomfrey about brewing the basic first-aid potions for the upcoming year.

III

Meanwhile, Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts for fifteen years, sat back and wondered if he was already losing his touch. He wondered why Minerva McGonagall hadn't also brought these concerns to his attention, but allowed that the last twenty-five years had actually been a very quiet period for Hogwarts; Grindelwald (Oh, Gellert, why?) had been defeated, but that was Europe; the Muggle World War Two had had limited impact on the wizarding world. Although the effects were less impressive in wizarding Britain than in Muggle Britain as far as the era went, the 1950s and 1960s saw a period of steady expansion in commerce and education; children came and went, fought, loved, kissed, got detentions and so on. Only the distant rumblings of the man calling himself Lord Voldemort portended any kind of trouble, and as it was, the Ministry of Magic's Department of Magical Law Enforcement, recently taken over by Bartemius Crouch, seemed to have the situation in hand, so far.

So maybe they were all being lulled into a dangerous level of complacency. Maybe it would be a good idea to at least visit his Pensieve, and consider the few incidents he recalled among those five boys Horace Slughorn had indicated. After all, he knew well that the reason for one of them even being allowed at Hogwarts had to do with an incredible level of risk he was taking – and as potential Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot (as rumour had it), Albus ruminated on the irony of that degree of law-breaking with respect to one Remus Lupin.

He stood over the Pensieve, and began concentrating on memories of the boys in question…

oOoOo

Albus remembered this occasion. It was December, and the first major winter storm had just passed. The enchanted ceiling showed a clear blue sky, tinged that peculiarly cold shade of blue that indicated wintertime.

His memory-self sat at the High Table, casting his eye over the early-morning crowd on Saturday. He stood near the entry doors, and watched as students trickled in, noting Lily Evans from Gryffindor, Bellatrix Black from Slytherin, and others. However, his attention was drawn when he saw the hook-nosed Severus Snape entering, only to whip around when Sirius Black deliberately shouldered his way past, muttering, "shove off, Snivellus."

Snivellus? When did they – or Sirius Black, at any rate – tag the boy with such a name? Albus remembered, with some depressing familiarity, how his friend Elphias had been rather the butt of jokes when they were students.

The memory, however, was continuing to unfold. James Potter barely noticed Snape except to glare at the boy, while Remus Lupin and Peter Pettigrew brought up the rear. Remus seemed to have an undefinable aura about him, as though he felt he ought to do something, but wasn't sure what. Peter Pettigrew, for his part, just rushed to the Gryffindor table to sit across from James.

Meanwhile, Severus scowled at the foursome, then trudged his way over to the Slytherin table to sit next to Lucius Malfoy. The aristocratic prefect smiled at young Severus, but from what Albus knew of some Slytherin tendencies, Lucius had more in mind that just benevolence. All too soon it was clear what the quid pro quo was.

"Severus, what was that excellent curse you told us about the other day, and used on Black over there?"

Brightly, the boy perked up and began eagerly rattling on about what he'd read in the Prince library when his grandparents weren't home, and Lucius was clearly listening with half an ear, noting the curses but otherwise doing little to show genuine friendship or mentorship.

Albus decided to have a word with Horace regarding Lucius's cultivation of the younger Slytherins, and whether or not that had something to do with Abraxas Malfoy's alleged courting of the shadowy "Knights of Walpurgis". It seemed young Lucius was courting allies for some longer-range plan.

On that note, with an effort, Albus took himself out of that memory, and switched to another…

oOoOo

Memory-Dumbledore was walking down the third floor corridor, humming to himself on, if memory served, a Monday afternoon in October. Albus smiled as he thought about how comforting the almost-droning bumblebee-like sound was, but a flicker out the corner of his eye caught his attention, and noticed it was through the half-open door of a study room far down the hall. While memory-Albus paused to converse with a painting, observer-Albus rushed past several doors to the room, where he saw that Minerva McGonagall was chewing out James Potter and Sirius Black, while Remus Lupin and Peter Pettigrew seemed determined to try and shrink into the walls.

Her sharp, ringing voice echoed through the classroom. "… thoughtless! Robes can be easily cleaned, granted, but do you boys really think putting multicoloured spots all over young Severus Snape's robes for a bit of sport after my Transfiguration class ended was necessary? Especially when I could tell from his looks that he didn't seem to think it was funny at all!"

Young Potter and Black seemed a bit mutinous as Minerva took a breath, then thundered, "That will be twenty points from Gryffindor, and you four have a detention with me after classes tomorrow!"

She glanced sharply around at the four boys, then briskly walked out the door and, apparently not noticing memory-Albus some ways down the corridor, headed off in another direction.

Just before Albus had to be ejected from this memory in order to see the next one, he saw James Potter shrug resentfully and say, "Well, it was only Snivellus, for Merlin's sake…"

oOoOo

The last memory, was, as Albus recalled, when he was standing in his office, peering through his telescope. His memory-self was observing the Broom Flying lessons for first-years in mid-September, as he wanted to see the flying instructor's technique. Since he couldn't hear the boys talking, he could only push himself through the telescope as though he were approaching the grounds by portkey, and watch as the schoolchildren silently interacted.

Sirius Black, hovering about six feet up in the air along with James Potter, was nudging James as young Severus seemed to float up somewhat erratically on his broom. The flying instructor had her back turned, apparently coaching a young Muggleborn Gryffindor student on how to properly straddle a broom. Albus saw Sirius point his wand, and say a word, which he could swear was 'Impedimenta'. The hex caught Severus unawares, and as the boy glared at Black and Potter, he overbalanced and tumbled off his broom. Albus instinctively tried to catch the boy, but at the last minute had to stop, realising it was a memory. Luckily the boy had only risen four feet off the ground, and the grass was apparently fairly spongy. Still, the boy winced as he pushed himself off the ground, but was rendered unable to exact his own revenge as the flying instructor had turned around, facing all the students.

III

Albus steadied himself at the Pensieve after having pushed himself out of that scene, and paused to consider his own memories.

Fawkes, apparently sensing something was not quite right, trilled soothingly and swished his tail. Albus sat behind his desk and wondered if what he had seen could just be isolated incidents. Boys would, after all, be boys. Even Elphias had seemed to understand, though his rather whispery voice opened him (Albus thought) to some rather unfair ridicule.

But… he couldn't help but think of that demeaning name ("Snivellus," indeed), and the way James Potter had dismissed his childish prank because of that.

Blast it all, though! Albus had prided himself on his incisive, searching quest for knowledge and his keen observance of all things around him – how else had he managed to defeat Gellert Grindelwald when the latter man was the one who held the legendary Elder Wand? Memory threatened to overcome him as he saw the battle, once again, in his mind's eye. Shaking himself slightly, Albus wondered if he owed Horace Slughorn, as embarrassing as it was to admit it, a word of thanks.

Could he really have got so out of touch in just twenty-five years since the defeat of Grindelwald?

Author Notes:

I got this idea after discussions with several people over the way events before Harry was born seem to have reverberated into the "present-day" of the books, and so this is technically AU in the sense that Dumbledore and Slughorn never had this chat in the JKR-books. :)

In particular I'd like to thank excessivelyperky for her thoughts and comments on this chapter and on the ideas behind this fic.