EARLY APRIL

The moment he saw the vacant space at the table, Snape was suspicious. Usually, his fellow First Year Slytherins found it the height of humour to spread out at mealtimes, so that there was no space for him, forcing him to find a place among the older students, where he was equally unwelcome. Such a conveniently-empty spot looked planned; they probably had something special arranged for today. But if he looked for another spot, they would think he was afraid of them. He kept his head up, and walked defiantly to the empty space.

For a couple of minutes, the other kids ignored him. Then, as he was lifting a forkful of food to his mouth, his elbow was violently jogged, scattering the food over the table. There was a ripple of laughter around him, and he stared angrily at his plate, not wanting to give them the satisfaction of a response. After a few moments, he resumed eating, but as he was slicing a piece of meat, another sharp blow connected, this time knocking the knife out of his hand. It skittered across the table, and Snape only just grabbed it before Avery, across from him, could take it. Snape clamped down on his anger; making him lose his temper was, he had realized, the ultimate goal of many of their games, and he wasn't about to let them win this time.

The meal progressed in this fashion for a while, until a shrewd blow caught him in the ribs, and he gasped at the sudden pain; unfortunately he inhaled a crumb of food, and began to choke. The students around him set up a jeering chorus of disgust, and when Snape reached for his water goblet, Mulciber, seated on his right, quickly knocked it over, so that its contents spilled onto Snape's plate.

The laughter this provoked was suddenly cut short; the other students fell silent, looking up at a point over Snape's shoulder. "What's going on here?" Snape didn't have to turn around to know it was Malfoy. There was a long, tense moment of silence, then Lucius Malfoy said, "I asked you all a question."

There was an edge to his voice, and Avery muttered resentfully, "...not even a prefect any more..."

"What did you just say?" Malfoy hissed; it was fortunate for Avery that he was on the other side of the table. "Prefect – or not..." he continued, his tone acidic, "...I have a duty to interfere when I see this kind of disgusting bullying going on!"

The First Years were speechless at the injustice of Lucius Malfoy, of all people, scolding them for bullying.

"Who tipped over the water?" Malfoy demanded. Mulciber raised his hand, too scared to speak. Malfoy stared at him for a few seconds, noting with satisfaction that even without a prefect's authority, he still had the ability to terrify the younger students. "Change your plate with his," he ordered. Mulciber gazed at him in dismay, but didn't move, and Malfoy smacked the boy's head. "Are you deaf?" he demanded, leaning closer. Mulciber shrank away from him, and did as he was told, pushing his still-full plate towards Snape, and moving the water-logged dish to his own place.

Even that, apparently, didn't satisfy Malfoy, who was still glaring at him. "Well? Start eating!"

Mulciber looked down at the ruined food, torn between fear of the tall Seventh Year, and revulsion at the mess on the plate. Suddenly, Malfoy's fingers clamped the back of his neck in a bruising grip, forcing his face towards the plate.

Leaning over the boy, Malfoy said in a soft, menacing voice, "Either you start eating, or I shove it down your throat myself. Your choice!" Shaking slightly, Mulciber picked up a fork and began to shovel the nauseating mush into his mouth. He managed to swallow one mouthful, but gagged on the second. From the corner of his eye, Malfoy saw Professor McGonagall rise from her seat at the High Table, looking in his direction; the Gryffindor head would feel no compunction at interfering with Slytherins if she saw fit. Abruptly, he released Mulciber, and straightened up. "Finish your meal," he said, and strode back to his own seat.

Moments later, Professor McGonagall reached the silent group of First Years. "Is everything all right, boys?" she asked, her tone indicating that she knew perfectly well that it wasn't. Several of the boys cast nervous glances in Malfoy's direction. He appeared to be engrossed in his own lunch, but they knew that if they complained, they would suffer the consequences later in the common room.

"Everything's fine, Professor McGonagall." It was Snape who spoke up, though he kept his eyes fixed on the table.

Professor McGonagall looked sharply at the subdued Slytherins, but contented herself with saying,"See that it stays that way." She looked in Malfoy's direction, and this time he looked up, meeting her eyes with an insolent gaze. She stared back, her expression clearly showing that she had a good idea of what had been going on. But with the First Years refusing to say anything, there was little she could do. She turned stiffly and walked away from the Slytherin table, leaving the First Years to finish eating in silence, and Malfoy to smile smugly to himself.


As Snape left the Great Hall, Malfoy fell into step with him. "You shouldn't let those boys pick on you," he said abruptly.

Snape nodded unhappily. "I don't know what to do about it," he admitted. "I tried ignoring them, but..."

"That won't work with their sort, they're not the type to give up so easily." He stopped walking, and looked at Snape for a few moments, a calculating expression on his pale features. "I could give you a few suggestions. I'll see you in the common room tonight, ten o'clock." He turned and walked away, leaving Snape wondering uneasily what Malfoy's suggestions might entail.

That evening, Snape was finishing his homework when Malfoy approached. "Come with me," he commanded, and walked out of the common room. Snape followed him, noting that Malfoy's hair now hung past his shoulders; since the infamous incident when his hair had been scorched, it had grown at an unlikely rate, and general opinion was that he'd been helping it with magic. It was not an opinion that anyone had expressed in his hearing.

They entered one of the dungeon classrooms, now dark and silent. Malfoy flicked his wand at the fireplace, and the fire blazed into life. Another flick, and several candles in the holders above the fireplace ignited. Malfoy placed a box he had been carrying on the nearest desk. Something was moving inside the box, tiny claws scratching on wood. Malfoy opened the box to reveal a scrawny black rat, which peered nervously over the edge, whiskers quivering.

"We need a subject to work on," he explained. He looked at Snape. "The best approach with those boys is to make sure they're afraid to bother you again. The quickest way to do that is with a curse, so I'm going to teach you the Imperius curse. Simple but effective – and quite entertaining."

"But..." Snape hesitated, not wanting to argue with Malfoy. "Isn't that an Unforgivable curse?"

Malfoy grinned. "Only if you get caught." He pointed his wand at the rat and said, "Imperio!" The rat, which had been sniffing around the rim of the box, suddenly crouched down, quite still and docile. "Turn around," Malfoy said. The rat quickly turned to face the other way. "Lie down." It flattened against the bottom of the box. "Sleep." The beady eyes closed, the rat's breathing slowed.

"Finite Incantatum!" Malfoy prodded the rat with his wand to wake it. It sniffed the air cautiously. Malfoy looked up at Snape. "Try it."

Snape pulled his wand from his pocket and pointed it at the rat. "Imperio!" The rat ambled into the corner of the box. "Imperio!" Unconcerned, the rodent began to groom.

Malfoy nodded, as if he'd expected this. "It will only work if you really mean it," he explained.

Snape frowned in concentration and said once more, "Imperio!" This time, the rat froze as it had done when Malfoy used the curse. He made the rat perform some simple actions, before he ended the spell.

"That's good – so far as it goes," Malfoy said. "We've been making it do easy things, that it has no reason to resist. The next step is to make it do something it doesn't want to do." He reached into the box, picked up the rat by the scruff of its neck, and crouched beside the hearth, then put it down, facing the fire. "Imperio! Now – walk towards the fire."

The rat took a couple of steps, hesitated, then a couple more. It wasn't close enough yet to get burnt, but it was clearly afraid. It continued walking, fighting against every step. Snape looked up at Malfoy, expecting him to make the rat stop; but Malfoy was quite still, on his knees, watching the frightened creature intently, a strange glitter in his eyes. The rat seemed terrified now, a couple more steps and it would start to suffer from the heat of the flames. It squeaked in terror, and Snape suddenly pointed his wand and said, "Finite Incantatum!"

Instantly, the rat turned and scuttled away from the fire, disappearing into the darkness of the classroom. Malfoy whipped around, and Snape shrank back from the fury in the older boy's icy-grey eyes. Then Malfoy seemed to catch himself, and got up abruptly. He picked up the box and strode from the room without a backward glance.

Snape was still crouching by the fire; he felt a sense of awe at how effective the Imperius curse could be; but at the same time there was a quiver of sick fear in the pit of his stomach at what he had just witnessed. Would Malfoy actually have forced the rat to walk into the fire? Of course not, he told himself, he was just seeing if Snape would intervene... wasn't he? After repeating this to himself a few times, he almost believed it. He got to his feet, extinguished the fire and candles, and made his way to bed, deep in thought.


"What's the matter? Are you deaf as well as stupid?"

Snape clenched his fists at his sides, but kept on walking. The four boys who customarily bedeviled him at mealtimes had expanded their repertoire to following him around at odd moments, hurling insults and occasionally jostling him. On this afternoon, the First Year Slytherins had a free period; after a couple of days of rain, the weather had suddenly turned hot, and Snape had hoped to find a quiet place in the grounds where he could sit unobserved and make a start on his homework, but it looked as if he wasn't going to be allowed to do that.

Two of the boys would probably have become bored fairly quickly, but Avery and Mulciber were tenacious and intelligent, quick to identify weak spots, and often creative in exploiting them. Snape's hand went to his pocket, and he fingered his wand. He hadn't yet tried out the Imperious curse on his own, still a little disturbed by Malfoy's apparent cruelty when demonstrating it. He kept walking, wondering how to shake the other boys.

"He's ignoring us. That's really rude," Avery said loudly.

"Yeah – we should teach him some manners." A second later there was a thud on the turf just in front of him, and a stone, thrown by Mulciber bounced at Snape's feet. A second stone brushed his leg, then one reached its target, catching Snape just behind the ear. He gave a yelp of pain and spun around, suddenly furious. He pulled his wand from his pocket, pointed it at Avery, and yelled, "Imperio!"

Avery stopped dead, staring at Snape, his eyes wide with surprise. Quickly, Snape flicked his wand at Mulciber and repeated the curse. Now both boys were standing still, their eyes fixed on Snape. Behind them, the other two glanced at each other, and Snape saw, with a thrill of satisfaction, the fear in their eyes, before they turned and ran.

Snape turned his attention back to his two victims. "You're always looking for a fight," he sneered. "Well – why don't you – fight each other!"

Mulciber swung an awkward punch at Avery, catching him a glancing blow on the chin, as Avery tried to dodge and then lunged at Mulciber. Moments later they were kicking and punching each other, their faces betraying a mix of anger and fear. Snape watched them, relishing the unfamiliar feeling of power. What else, he wondered, could he make them do?

"Stop!" The two boys staggered back from each other, panting. Snape looked at Mulciber, then glanced at the muddy ground at his feet. "Eat dirt," he commanded.

With satisfaction, he watched Mulciber drop to his knees, and scoop up a handful of muck. He seemed to struggle for a moment, then put the mud into his mouth. "Stop doing it," he begged, choking, even as he reached down for another handful.

"Get up then!" Now he had control of these two, Snape found the power intoxicating. His eyes flickered to the lake, and he grinned. "Both of you – go down to the lake." He followed them, and as they reached the water, he said, "Stop there." Here, the rocky ledge overhung the water, and he knew it was quite deep. "Mulciber – go jump in the lake," he said, grinning.

Without hesitation, Mulciber leapt off the rock, entering the water with a resounding splash. He surfaced spluttering, and began to tread water. Snape turned to Avery, who now looked terrified. "I can't swim," he gasped but Snape snarled, "Do I look like I care? Just jump..."

"Finite Incantatum!" roared a voice behind Snape.

Avery sagged, trembling, and Snape spun around to find Professor Slughorn bearing down on him. The Professor caught Snape by the shoulders and shook him, as Mulciber swam to the shore and clambered out of the water. "What the devil are you doing?" he demanded. "That's an Unforgivable curse! Do you know what happens to wizards who use Unforgivable curses, boy?"

Jolted back to his familiar feeling of powerlessness, Snape shook his head mutely, though he knew perfectly well what the punishment was.

"Azkaban," roared Professor Slughorn. "They go to Azkaban. You know what that is, don't you?"

"Y-yes sir. Wizard prison... Dementors..."

"That's right!" Professor Slughorn had to pause for breath. Beside him, Snape could see his two other tormentors; they must have run straight for Professor Slughorn. "It's lucky you're only twelve, Snape!" Professor Slughorn said. He was no longer shouting. "If you were of age, you'd be looking at serious time in Azkaban. As it is..." He stared at Snape, shaking his head. "Professor Dumbledore will have to deal with you."


Snape sat on the hard chair, across from Professor Dumbledore, and stared at his hands. He had retreated into a defensive silence, refusing to answer any questions. Professor Slughorn had marched him, along with the four other boys, to the Headmaster's office, where Mulciber and Avery had given a blow-by-blow account of Snape's actions. In the process, their own misdeeds leading up to Snape's use of the curse had been conveniently forgotten; but despite Snape's refusal to speak, even in his own defense, Professor Dumbledore had a shrewd idea of what had been going on.

Finally, he dismissed the four with a warning that he would speak to each of them individually later that day. When they were gone, Professor Dumbledore exchanged a glance with Professor Slughorn. Quietly, he said, "Severus – where did you learn the Imperius curse?" Snape said nothing, and Professor Dumbledore said, "Please answer me!"

There was an edge of steel in his tone, and Snape muttered, "I read about it."

"You read about it? And which professor gave you the permission slip?"

Snape looked up, puzzled. "Permission slip?"

Professor Dumbledore nodded. "Books which describe the Unforgivable curses are in the restricted section. You would need a permission slip to go there. Who gave it to you?"

"I... I don't know," Snape said lamely, dropping his gaze.

"I thought as much. I think, perhaps, that you actually learnt it from someone at Hogwarts..." Professor Dumbledore turned to Professor Slughorn. "Professor, please ask Mr. Malfoy to join us?" Snape flinched slightly, something which did not go unnoticed by Professor Dumbledore. Professor Slughorn left the room, and five minutes later – during which time Snape glowered determinedly at his shoes – he returned with Malfoy in tow.

Malfoy's expression hardened when he saw Snape, guessing instantly what must have happened. He said nothing, however, as he took the seat indicated by Professor Dumbledore.

"Mr. Malfoy..." Professor Dumbledore's tone was almost conversational. "Mr. Snape used the Imperius curse on several other boys this afternoon. Do you happen to know where he learned it?"

"I'm afraid not, Professor." Malfoy's tone was calm, his voice firm.

"You're quite sure of that?" Professor Dumbledore watched him intently, but Malfoy kept his gaze fixed on a point on the desk, careful not to meet Professor Dumbledore's eyes for even a moment.

"Quite sure, Professor."

After a brief silence, Professor Dumbledore turned back to Snape. "Severus – did Mr. Malfoy teach you the Imperius curse?"

Malfoy tensed, waiting for the answer that would condemn him. He was well aware that at almost eighteen, he would certainly be dealt with as an adult when it came to Unforgivable curses.

"No, Sir." Snape's voice was steady. Malfoy glanced at him, barely able to conceal his surprise.

"You need not be afraid to answer honestly," Professor Dumbledore told the younger boy, his voice gentle.

"I read it in a book," Snape said stubbornly.

Professor Dumbledore looked at him steadily. It appeared that there was no other way... "Severus – look at me." Snape looked up. Professor Dumbledore looked deep into the black eyes, searching, and saw... nothing. He frowned slightly, continuing to probe for the information he sought, but it was as if he looked into an impenetrable fog. "Very well," he said at length. "Please go directly to your dormitory and stay there until Professor Slughorn gives you permission leave it."

Wordlessly, Snape got up and walked out of the room. After the door was closed, Professor Dumbledore turned his attention back to Malfoy. "It appears that I must take you at your word." Malfoy nodded, and Professor Dumbledore noted the hint of smugness in his expression, though he still refused to meet the headmaster's gaze. "You are almost at the end of your time at Hogwarts," Professor Dumbledore continued. "You have a great capacity for influencing others – as I'm sure you are already aware. I urge you to use that gift wisely, Lucius, during your final months here - and especially when you leave us."

Malfoy inclined his head, but did not reply. Professor Dumbledore sighed inwardly, knowing that his words carried little weight with the young man who had been raised to regard himself as accountable to no-one.

"You may go, Mr. Malfoy."

Malfoy rose. "Thank you, Professor Dumbledore." His voice held the faintest hint of amused insolence, but Professor Dumbledore let it pass.

As the door closed behind Malfoy, Dumbledore shook his head regretfully. Then he frowned slightly, and said musingly, "It would seem that young Severus is a natural Occlumens." Professor Slughorn looked surprised, as Professor Dumbledore continued, "Remarkable in a child of his age. He is a boy who will need careful guidance – I only hope I can be more successful with him than I have been with Lucius." He looked up at Professor Slughorn. "The decision rests with you, as head of Slytherin, as to the nature of Snape's punishment. I will talk to him myself in a day or two. He must be left in no doubt as to the seriousness of his actions. I would have no choice but to expel him, except that I am convinced that it was Lucius's idea in the first place."

After Professor Slughorn departed, Professor Dumbledore sat for a long time, deep in thought. He would provide all the care and guidance within his power, if it would prevent Severus from following the same dark path that he feared Lucius Malfoy had already chosen.