DISCLAIMER: Only the owner can write canon. This is not canon. What does that tell you?
DEDICATION: This chapter is dedicated to my sister, for her betaing, and for the helpful comments only a sibling can provide, a.k.a: "yes you idiot I do like it".
It Falls to the Young Chapter I:
Enter a Phoenix, a Spy, and his Less-Than-Reverent Thoughts Concerning Four Gryffindors
The cellar was going to do nicely. Most would not have been impressed by its plain appearance and dimly-lit corners, but Severus surveyed the cold, cement floors from the perspective of one considering potion spills, saw the simple furniture as a comfort, if not a luxury, and was perfectly content to spend his summer holidays in the shadows—particularly in consideration of who was living in the daylight upstairs.
The daylight upstairs was something Severus planned to avoid indefinitely. But he'd have to venture from the cellar at some point—if only for pumpkin juice and sandwiches—and the kitchen, like the rest of the building, was self-declared Gryffindor territory. Spending ten weeks in the company of those prats was not Severus' idea of a good time.
It appeared the feeling was mutual.
"But Professor! What if he finds out?" Potter's whining voice carried down the staircase and Severus frowned; he had neglected to close the door.
"Severus will not learn of the Order's existence, or that this is Order headquarters, as long as you heed my instructions and leave him alone. I trust your mutual dislike will keep interaction to a minimum, and—"
Severus shut the door and Dumbledore's voice dulled to a murmur. Thank Merlin the walls are relatively soundproof. If I had to listen to their ignorant prattle twenty-four hours a day I'd be in St. Mungo's by July.
A sudden flash of fire reverberated off the room's stone walls; on the stripped bed in the corner appeared a large package wrapped in brown paper, twine and a phoenix.
"Hello, Fawkes." The bird glared at him, talons hopelessly tangled in the twine. "This would be why owls usually deliver the post," Severus admonished, freeing the phoenix with a flick of his wand. Fawkes flew to his shoulder and nipped his ear fondly before disappearing in another flash of fire.
Severus tore open the package, which contained his meager belongings and presumably a few things the Headmaster had acquired for him... Yes, definitely Dumbledore, he thought, diving under the bed as the package—charmed for instantaneous unpacking—exploded outwards.
Once everything was settled he emerged from beneath the bed and saw that Dumbledore had indeed gifted him with some new possessions. His potions ingredients were restocked and further furnishings for the room itself had appeared—along with a gleaming, custom-made silver cauldron of justthe right size, meant for the research he did at Dumbledore's request. He'd been waiting a month for that cauldron and his fingers itched to use it.
The rest of him desperately wanted to curl up on the bed's green duvet with a book and ignore reality for a few hours. Reality being that I am, and will continue to be, in close proximity to the four most arrogant Gryffindors in existence. Not even the Ministry's recent declaration that underage magic would not be monitored until further notice—"due to recent events which are more pressing upon our resources"—a.k.a. the Dark Lord—could make up for that. Severus sighed and, after deactivating several nasty protective spells, flipped open the case that contained his precious potions and their related paraphernalia...
"AHHHH! The—doorknob's—RUDDY—HOT—!"
Severus smirked. Pettigrew had just discovered that trespassing in his cellar was not an option. Maybe I should put up a sign: Please No Bloody Gits. It's their own fault I'm here in their "territory," anyway... He halted that train of thought abruptly and concentrated on unpacking his scales. Despite those living in the daylight upstairs, Severus was pleased to be spending the summer at Order headquarters, and he did not want that pleasure ruined by owing it to the Gryffindors.
They, as Potter had vocalized, were upset enough over his presence. Spending the summer at the headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix was obviously something of an adventure for them, one not likely to deflate their overblown sense of self-importance. At least Dumbledore didn't let them join the Order; that would have been an unprecedented disaster. They're here for protection, not to attempt any save-the-world stunts.
Yes, that's my job. Severus snorted and began slicing up the hellebore.
So the Gryffindor gang was likely to be even more insufferable than usual this summer. If that was even possible. Oh, we're high and mighty, oh, we get to use magic over the summer, oh, we get to stay at Order headquarters, oh, we're the ones the Dark Lord's trying to kidnap... Severus sighed and dropped the hellebore into a beaker for storage. It was true that Potter would make an excellent hostage—only child of Richard Potter, Auror extraordinaire—and Black was such a well-known blood traitor that he'd been targeted as well, the bloody fool. He should've kept his trap shut. And then Lupin and Pettigrew were damned by association...
Thus there had been several failed attempts on the Marauders' lives last year. Not that they seem to care; it's done nothing to subdue their enthusiastically suicidal stupidity. Severus cared, though not particularly about the Gryffindors' safety; rather, he had been charged with discovering who was responsible.
He paused to sneer at four imaginary Gryffindor faces, shocked even further into idiocy by the realization that he, the "evil, greasy-haired bastard," worked for Albus Dumbledore. Let alone the coronary they'd have if they learned we were friends. But the Gryffindor gang didn't know, nor did anyone else. Everyone—Death Eaters and Order members alike—thought it was a coincidence that he'd won a school-sponsored summer of extra potions tuition the same year Professor Slughorn retired; they did not suspect that Albus had fabricated the entire contest. The Dark Lord, fooled once again with Occlumency, had been pleased at the prospect of obtaining more information from Dumbledore and had immediately appointed Severus a spy. No one on the light side suspected that Severusknew of the Order's existence, let alone that he was technically a member. They knew the Headmaster had a spy but certainly didn't consider Snivellus a candidate for the post.
While that did nothing to promote his reputation among the Order, it left Severus free to watch silently from the shadows... free to watch and uncover the traitor. That was what troubled Dumbledore most—the Dark Lord's hidden influence at Hogwarts. Dumbledore had ample reason to be concerned; the night Severus had been marked he'd heard, through the fog of pain, a conversation between the Dark Lord and another of his newly-consecrated minions. Only a few words penetrated into Severus' mind, but their message was invaluable: there was a Death Eater at Hogwarts, a Death Eater who had it in for the Gryffindor gang. And that was intolerable—at least to the Headmaster.
So, due to the Dark Lord's recent decision to mark adolescents, half the school had been living under the combined scrutiny of Dumbledore and himself—and perhaps McGonagall, he suspected she was in the Order too—but his fourth year was finally over, and they still hadn't uncovered the Death Eater. In hope of remedying the situation before fall term, the Headmaster had decided to keep Severus close over the summer... and here I am, residing in the hostile territory known as 402 Griffin Street. Severus sighed again, setting his silver cauldron on the table and surveying the now-immaculate room with satisfaction. All done.
Severus allowed himself the liberty of collapsing backwards on the bed. Mmmmm. It really was soft. He kicked off his shoes and reached for the book on the bedside table, 729 Incredibly Complicated Potions No One Sane Would Ever Even Think of Considering Brewing. Sorry, Dumbledore, but further research will just have to wait a few hours. Why you are suddenly so interested in treating lycanthropy is beyond me anyway. He opened the book to chapter fourteen—Interesting Truth Serums You Wouldn't Want to Experience—and proceeded to ignore reality in a very through manner.
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