Co-written with Stormypup
Beta'd by Rakina
Chapter Three
The next thing Harry was consciously aware of was the scent of pork chops coming from downstairs. He rubbed his eyes tiredly, and then threw his legs over the side of the bed. His foot kicked the journal under the bed and he had to get on his knees and dig around under the bed to get it back. He stood, brushing the dust from his knees, then shook his head.
"You can use magic now, Harry," he muttered, realizing he could have just summoned the book to him.
He wondered how long it would take him to get used to that idea. Setting the book on the center of the bed, he made his way slowly from Ron's bright orange bedroom and went downstairs to where everyone was seated.
"Have a good nap, Harry?" Remus asked, setting his knife down. Harry grinned and nodded, sitting beside the werewolf. Molly bustled around the table with a jug of pumpkin juice and poured him a glass and urged him to start to eat.
"Did you lot find anything interesting?" Harry asked around a mouth full of potatoes.
Harry watched as the Ron and Hermione traded wary glances. "Well?" he demanded.
"There was an interesting passage in one of the scrolls," Remus began, and Ron and Hermione both visibly relaxed. "Perhaps you read something similar in the journal." Remus wiped his mouth and set his fork next to his plate. "There was mention of a vow connecting the two familiars through the ages. At some point, a member of the Monarchy used a vow to bind their stewards to them. Basically, it was a guarantee that their stewards would lay down their lives for their king."
Harry blinked, and then blinked again. "Steward?"
"For example, from what we have gathered, Thelonious was Steward to Carlisle," Hermione said carefully.
"No." Harry shook his head. He'd already figured out that Thelonious was someone of importance, not that he'd share how important he was to Carlisle. "What is a steward?"
"It's someone who is close to the King, an adviser and trusted councilor. In this case, it appears the Steward also acted as a bodyguard of sorts."
Harry looked at Hermione in confusion. "And the vow did what?"
"It ensured the King could trust his Steward. The Steward was expected to do everything in his power to protect the King, even if meant his own death," Hermione answered.
"Surely that's voided by now, right?"
"I honestly don't know," Remus said, picking up his fork and stabbing a piece of chicken. "There were no specific details of terms and conditions."
"I don't want Snape to be bound to me."
"Can't imagine he'd be thrilled with the idea either," Ron muttered.
"No," Harry struggled to find the right words. "I meant, the way it sounds makes it seem like I'd have authority over him, and I don't want that."
"There is nothing that says you would have to exercise any authority over him. The fact that you may have it does not mean you must use it," Remus said, pointing his fork at Harry.
"He'd never believe that though."
"Maybe he doesn't know," Ron offered. "It's not like he ever has to either."
Harry, outraged at the suggestion, stood up abruptly almost knocking over his chair. "This concerns him as much as me, if not more than me. I'll be in your room, reading."
Ron looked at Hermione, eyes wide. "What'd I say?"
June 1569
Thelonious was staring at me from across the table. I'm not sure he was even aware of doing it. But I was aware, I was very aware. When my eyes catch his and hold, the rest of the room disappears, it is only he and I. And then he scowls and stalks away, his cloak billowing about his knees in a very dramatic fashion. He was angry at something only Merlin himself may know. This time when he ran away, I followed. I caught up with him just outside one of the small bedchambers. He stopped when I called his name.
Oh my Thelonious, so conflicted, so torn. I offer him the only comfort I know and as he's moaning against my mouth, he relaxes, bit by bit, until once again, my dearest friend stands with me. I told him this had to stop. He told me, in his way, that it could not be stopped, and he certainly wouldn't make an effort to make it thus. He reminded me again, that we are bonded by blood and magic and only death will break those bonds. Sometimes I hate Theolonious.
Harry felt marginally better at the words. He could completely agree with that sentiment. There wasn't a moment he could remember where he didn't hate Snape, and yet he had just defended the man, quite vociferously. Defended him to the point where he had confused all those present. Respect might be part of it, he reckoned, and concern. No one had seen the man since school had let out, or at least he hadn't.
Dumbledore surely would have mentioned if something bad had happened, but what if he didn't know? Harry shook his head, brushing aside the concern. Snape did not need his concern.
Which brought up another question. Did Dumbledore know all this time? Was it just one more secret he had kept from him? And if Snape knew, what about when he was in school with his father?
Feeling frustrated, and knowing he wouldn't be able to concentrate on the journal without answers, he sneaked down the stairs, careful to avoid the ones he knew squeaked. He didn't want to answer any questions about where he was going. Hoping everyone was still in the kitchen, he crept towards the fireplace and grabbed a handful of the powder.
He stepped into the fireplace and thought for a moment before calling out, "Three Broomsticks!" Harry closed his eyes tightly as he spun through the Floo system, unable to watch the passing fireplaces anymore than he normally could. Finally the spinning began to slow and he found himself heading down towards one of the fireplaces and tumbled out into the main room in the Three Broomsticks.
Harry winced and stood, brushing ash off his clothes. He adjusted his glasses; thankful they hadn't broken again – that would have been more embarrassing. The pub was almost empty, but Harry suspected that was only because it was an odd time to Floo in. Madam Rosmerta watched him as he crossed the room, and he waved sheepishly before disappearing out the door.
The walk up the road to Hogwarts felt longer than usual. Harry got to the gates and pushed against them, tired and annoyed that he still couldn't Apparate. He strode up the path leading to the main doors and for once he wasn't surprised, amazed, stunned or any other word of the sort, to see Dumbledore standing on the steps waiting for him.
"Did you know? About this whole inheritance, royalty and everything else that comes with it? Does Snape know?" Harry asked, too irritated to even bother saying hello.
"Yes, I knew." Harry balked. Dumbledore had answered so serenely that for a second Harry wondered if he had imagined the answer, but then the old man had to continue: "As does Severus."
"And nobody told me because...?" Harry asked.
"Harry," Dumbledore started, but Harry cut him off.
"No, tell me the truth. This is...this is bigger, bigger than the damned prophecy ever was, bigger than anything you've ever told me! Why did you hide this from me?"
"Because it was the one thing that could wait, and one less thing that Voldemort could use to his advantage," Dumbledore said calmly. "If Voldemort had known of Severus' connection with you we would have lost our best source of information."
Harry ran a hand through his hair multiple times as he put his thoughts in order. "And Snape knows about all of this?"
"He does," Dumbledore agreed. "He has known since he was a child that he had a responsibility to uphold. Unfortunately, he tried to escape that responsibility, but ultimately he did everything he could when he realized your parents were in danger. Sadly, it was not enough to save them."
"He tried to--"
"He tried to save your parents, and you, but he arrived too late. You have to remember Harry, at that time he was not in Voldemort's inner circle. He had no idea of Voldemort's plan that night."
"Did my dad know? About Snape?"
"No, I don't believe so. He never had the time to go through all your family's vault. I'm sure he believed he had plenty of time to do so, and with everything happening at the time it was not a priority."
Harry's shoulders slumped. "Oh." He rubbed his neck uncomfortably. "I'm sorry about showing up like this...and hello, Headmaster."
Dumbledore smiled. "Hello, Harry, it's nice to see you. Would you care for tea before you return to the Burrow?"
Harry grinned sheepishly. "That'd be nice."
Dumbledore stood back, allowing Harry to enter the castle.
"Wow, it's so...silent with everyone gone," Harry said, and realized he was whispering.
"Does it disturb you at all? I'm certain I can find a certain painting of a knight who would gladly have a chat."
Harry wrinkled his nose. "I'd rather you didn't, but thanks for the offer, sir."
"It always takes some getting used to after a busy year of students, but I've come to cherish the quiet times. The ghosts become more active as well, yet Peeves seems to keep to himself. I have a theory that he spends that time thinking up new tricks to play on the next group of students."
"Is Professor Snape here, I mean, right now?"
"Hm, why do you ask, Harry?"
"I'd like to speak with him," Harry said, keeping his voice as calm and mature as he possibly could. "I have a feeling he knows more about my family history than I do, and I'm curious about a few things."
"He is a very busy man, Harry. Too busy at times. Might I suggest you take tea with him instead. I'm sure he could use the break."
Harry had expected more a fight. "Um, yes, that would be fine; if you think he wouldn't mind being interrupted." By me, the bane of his existence.
"He needs to take a break," Dumbledore insisted with more authority than Harry had anticipated.
"Oh, all right," Harry said awkwardly. But if Snape was going to get cranky at him for interrupting him, he wasn't sure he wanted to stay for tea.
"I wouldn't worry yourself, Harry. He's been expecting this conversation to occur for weeks now."
"All right." Harry was nervous. He knew he would have to confront Snape at some point, but now that he wasn't feeling angry and indignant, he wasn't sure what to say.
When they reached the break off to the stairs and dungeons, Dumbledore gave Harry a gentle push towards the latter.
"Go on, but do stop by before you leave. I have something for you. It is your birthday, after all."
"You're not coming with me?" Harry asked, surprised. It was one thing to face Snape with Dumbledore there, but alone was something altogether different.
Dumbledore laid a gentle hand on Harry's shoulder and the young man swallowed. Nerves which he hadn't felt once today attacked him with a vengeance and he wondered if it was too late to run away and pretend that he hadn't shown up at Hogwarts at all.
"There are some things that you two need to discuss. It would be a crime if I was there to interfere. No, this, I'm afraid, is something you and Severus need to discuss in private."
Harry took in Dumbledore's serious tone and almost collapsed in a pile in the corridor. He really had no idea how to respond to that. If he didn't know how important this conversation would end up being, he'd run like a little girl. He had to face Snape, the dungeon monster, in the middle of summer break, on his birthday no less, and probably receive the worse dressing down he had ever had the displeasure to listen to.
"Yes, sir," Harry said, feeling defeated. "I'll come by before I leave. What's the sweet of choice this week?"
Dumbledore smiled and Harry felt some tension drain away as the man answered, "Curly Wurly."
"You're on a bit of a chocolate fix this year, if you don't mind me commenting, sir."
"Ah, it is my other favorite sweet," Dumbledore said smiling. "And I needed something softer, my teeth aren't getting any younger, you know." Dumbledore winked. "Off you go now."
Harry smiled. It was all he could do, and headed off down into the dungeons. Why did he have to do this on his own birthday? He was so stupid to think that he'd get out of having a conversation with Snape if he showed up at the castle unannounced. And just how did Dumbledore know he was coming? It wasn't like he had told anyone in the split second it had taken to decide he was going to go to Hogwarts that day.
His steps slowed as he reached the narrow corridor and he realized he had absolutely no idea where Snape's quarters were. That was just perfect.
Not knowing where else to go, Harry wandered down the hallway toward Snape's office, hoping he was there. He didn't fancy waiting around in the dungeons for Snape to walk by.
As he passed the Potions classroom, he heard a loud banging noise. Stopping, he turned and went back and popped his head inside the door. Snape was bent over a cauldron, scrubbing it and muttering to himself.
"Professor?"
Snape's head snapped up. He scowled at Harry for a moment before going back to scrubbing the cauldron. "I take it you were more curious than your father," he said irritably
Harry bristled and entered the classroom. It was all he could do not to snap back. "I suppose so, yes."
"I will not be your lapdog, Potter," Snape growled, scrubbing the cauldron harder.
"I never asked you to be."
"You must be planning to use it against me somehow," Snape said, tossing the scrubbing brush into the cauldron. "I'd just as soon know now."
"I didn't even know until this evening. What could I have possibly thought up since then?" Harry asked, insulted. He might hate Snape – all right, not hate, but dislike strongly, but even if he did hate Snape he wouldn't lord himself over the man, even if it could be construed as the same actions Snape had been employing on him for years. Harry liked to think he wasn't that cruel.
"Then why are you here?"
"Because I don't understand it. The vow. I don't get it."
"Our ancestors, in their infinite stupidity, saw fit to bind themselves to each other and their progeny for the duration of their mutual lives," Snape answered, folding his arms across his chest.
"Yes, but--"
"But what, Potter. What don't you understand still?"
Harry shifted. "Is it possible to revoke it?"
Snape snorted. "We are bound by blood and magic; there is no revoking it, Potter."
"Shit. I don't want you to keep thinking I'm going to make you do things for me. How would that be any different than when I didn't know?" Harry demanded, moving the rest of the way across the classroom. "Is it just because I know now that you'd feel compelled to do what I say?"
"As I said, I will never be your lapdog, Potter," Snape hissed dangerously.
"And as I said, I don't want you to be!"
"Then we have nothing to discuss," Snape replied, turning back to his cauldron.
Harry growled. "Like hell we don't!"
Snape ignored him, focusing all of his irritation and anger on the cauldron that was, for all intents and purposes, perfectly clean now.
He sank into a bench towards the middle of the room, running a hand down the side of his face. "How can you just ignore this?"
"Ignore this?" Snape repeated, whirling on Harry. "How can I ignore it, when I seemed to have spent most of my life doing my bloody duty? Your idiot father died and I was unable to stop it. It should have killed me as well, but I was allowed to live to protect you, his equally idiotic son! No, Potter, I have not 'ignored' this."
Harry bit his lip and bowed his head. "Is that all the vow makes you do? Wish to protect my family?"
"There wasn't only one vow made between our families, you idiotic little sod."
Harry's eyes widened in surprise. "There were more?"
"Yes, but at the moment it doesn't concern you," Snape hedged, not wishing to speak of that particular aspect unless he absolutely had to. Which at some point, he would have to, but Merlin, he didn't want to.
"At the moment…" Harry repeated, not liking the sound of that at all.
"We'll discuss it later should the need arise," Snape said, still scowling.
Harry sighed and folded his arms on the table and rested his chin on his arms. "Hey, professor?"
"What?"
"Do you stay here all summer?" Not what he had meant to ask, but it was too late to take it back; plus, if he were honest with himself, he was very curious about that.
"No, I have a home of my own," Snape answered, obviously thrown by the question. "The Headmaster is gracious enough to allow me use of the labs, however."
"Ah." Harry watched as Snape continued to scrub the one cauldron. "Need any help?"
"You're offering to scrub cauldrons?" His eyes narrowed. "What are you up to, Potter?"
"Nothing!" Harry started defensively. "I just wondered if you need any help."
"I'm about to start on a delicate potion, the cauldron must be immaculate. If it's not, things could go very wrong. Do you really want that responsibility?" Snape asked darkly.
Harry shrugged. "It's just cleaning the already clean cauldron."
Snape thought for a moment in silence before nodding. "All right. Bring it through there when you're done." Snape pointed at the door and waited for Harry to nod before going through the door himself to begin preparing ingredients.
Harry was struggling with himself as he picked up the rag and the cleaner. Why was he doing this again? Why had he offered? He was clearly insane. It was his birthday and here he was opting to spend quality time with an inky black cauldron.
Snape sliced the frog liver in slices so thin you could practically see through them. He had desperately hoped Potter would be as uninterested as his father had been when he received his inheritance. But of course, the brat had to go and actually read for the first time in his life.
Snape's knife slipped and he hissed, putting his finger to his mouth. "Damn it," he muttered, banishing the frog liver. He couldn't take the chance that his blood may have contaminated it. He cast a quick healing spell on his finger, reached for the jar of frog livers and plucked one out.
He forced his mind away from Potter, focusing on the soothing and rhythmic motion of slicing.
"Are you all right, sir?" Harry asked, pushing the cauldron into the room. The thing weighed a ton, he swore. Either that or Snape had charmed it so it was heavier than normal, just to spite him.
"Fine," Snape snapped, reaching for the jar of dried bat blood. "Are you certain it's clean?" he asked, not bothering to look up.
"Yes, sir."
"Feel free to leave," Snape told him, carefully measuring out the dried blood.
Harry stayed in the doorway, frowning. "Do you really hate me that much?"
"I never said I hated you," Snape answered, tapping the spoon to even out the measurement.
"You certainly act like you do," Harry muttered, glancing around the sparse room.
Snape sighed and poured the dried blood into a smaller cauldron. "You can't just stand there and watch me work. It's unnatural."
"I'll go then." Harry turned and paused at the doorway. "Sir?"
Snape braced his hands on the counter top. "What is it, Potter?"
"Thank you for being straight with me. About the vow." Harry grinned crookedly and then ducked out of the room.
Snape waited until he was sure Harry was gone and then sat heavily on his stool. He wondered if holding back information could be construed as being straight. He had at least told the boy there was more to it, so he couldn't be called a liar. Somehow, he thought that once Potter knew the truth he would call him one anyway.
