Chapter Three

Correlation

"What do you mean Potter has returned to Hogwarts?" Minerva McGonagall furtively hounded Slughorn as they were the first to arrive at the Great Hall for breakfast, "You're not in earnest Horace! Please say it isn't so."

"Ah, but it's true, Minerva. I swear it! Truth be told I did have a few drinks last night but I've never been one to hallucinate."

"I simply can't believe it, Horace! I mean, what will Severus do when he sees Potter is here? Does he already know, I wonder?"

"From what I gathered, Potter only arrived late last night. He spoke as if he intended to attend all his classes as usual."

"As usual!" Minerva huffed, "I would hardly call the circumstances usual!"

"He's lucky the Carrows don't take their breakfast in the Great Hall, in any case," Horace mused.

"No, but Severus does! I wonder… should we try to distract him? Keep him away for this morning?" McGonagall speculated anxiously.

"Keep who away?" an ominous voice intoned from behind the apprehensive professors.

"Why, Alecto and Amycus, Severus," Horace covered for his colleague, "We rather thought Hogwarts could do without public Cruciatus sessions for one day."

"Do not lie to me, Slughorn," Snape spat, "I clearly heard McGonagall say "him" not "them". You weren't by any chance, talking about yours truly? Because if so, I must remind you, I am the headmaster of this school and insubordination will not be tolerated."

"We know that, Severus," Minerva said quickly in an attempt to save face, "It was a slip of the tongue, I assure you."

"Was it now?" Snape murmured dangerously as cowed students started to mill into the shadowy hall.

"Yes, it was," the elderly witch was adamant.

"Oh come now, headmaster. Minerva simply made a mistake. It should be water under the bridge now. We're all getting older you know and our minds are going…"

Rolling his eyes, Severus turned to face the arched entrance doors. Loitering there on the stony threshold was a sable-haired, ashen-skinned waif Snape would recognize anywhere. The young man's luminous jade glare penetrated him through round, undersized spectacles. Insufferable. Impossible.

Severus' face fell, momentarily betraying himself.

It couldn't be.

Harry Potter, about to be his and the Dark Lord's newest spoil of war.

Inexplicably, the stupid boy began to smile up at him as if he didn't mind it at all.

No, this beaming imp could not be Potter. He must be a lookalike, a product of Polyjuice Potion. Perhaps he was one of the seven Potters, sent to Hogwarts by the Order of the Phoenix in order to disorient the Death Eaters.

Still, this had not been part of the plan. And it had been his plan.

Had he come to kill him then, to avenge Dumbledore's death? Snape discreetly fingered his wand beneath his robes.

A hush fell over the crowd as others began to take notice of the seemingly impending showdown.

"Severus," Minerva spoke up shrilly, afraid for Potter's and not the headmaster's safety, "Don't act rashly now…"

"You knew he was here and you didn't tell me," Snape said flatly with a hint of disappointment in his voice.

"To be frank, headmaster," McGonagall continued, "Did you really expect us to come running to you the moment we heard Potter was on the premises?"

"Yes," Severus rejoined snidely, "Count yourselves lucky that the Carrows don't take their meals in the Great Hall."

Minerva cast Horace an equivocal look. Slughorn breathed a sigh of relief as Severus went about buttering a piece of toast in a noncommittal fashion.

Snape had to stop himself from shuddering as he pretended to busy himself with his daily breakfast ritual. Staying alive had always been a chore to him, but even more so since June.

Supernatural did not begin to describe Potter's unsolicited smile that hazy September morning. And all of a sudden, without warning, Severus was once again confronted with that inadmissible truth: Potter had to die sometime soon, by the Dark Lord's wand. But, did he have to let it happen like Dumbledore had suggested? What was in it for him? Did he really care about the "greater good" after all? Or was it really Potter he was most interested in protecting? Merlin forbid.

Alerting Voldemort and getting the whole ordeal over with had crossed his mind. However, now that Potter had presented himself to him, in the flesh, so willingly, so suddenly, Severus felt sick.

None of it made sense to him. Not Potter's untimely return and certainly not his own unexpectedly vicious aversion to the idea of the boy's death.

Severus hazarded a glance in Potter's direction. The impudent prat had not taken his green eyes off of him.

"Keeping your eye on the prize, are you, Potter?" Snape muttered to himself, pushing his plate aside.

Minerva jumped, spilling pumpkin juice over her oatmeal and practically wetting herself.

Meanwhile, Severus rose from the head table and made his way down among the students. Potter appeared disturbingly unruffled as Snape approached him.

The boy had taken his usual place at the Gryffindor table. The wanton Weasley girl was practically sitting in his lap, spoon-feeding the seventeen year-old cereal. The thought crossed Snape's mind as to how to get rid of the red-headed parasite. He needed Potter alone, somehow, though that didn't seem feasible. All eyes were on them. The hall was so soundless that morning one could have heard a wand drop.

"Good morning Severus," Harry greeted him warmly, "It's so good to see you again."

Snape nearly lost his breakfast. Did the idiotic teenager have no sense of self-preservation? Had this same boy not been attempting to escape himself and a group of Death Eaters on his birthday only a few months prior? What could have possibly changed since then?

"What must I do to impress upon you, Potter, that you are no longer welcome here?" Severus intoned softly.

It was then that Harry's grin finally evanesced and it looked like the overgrown urchin was about to cry.

Snape couldn't take it. He could take a lot of things, but he couldn't take this. He couldn't let the others see him this way. Snivellus.

He swept out of the Great Hall, more troubled and unhinged than he had felt in the entirety of the grisly horror story that was his life.

Tears flowing perilously, Severus took refuge in an Entrance Hall broom cupboard, took out his wand and began polishing it compulsively, quietly repeating Potter's given name over and over to himself many times.