The Birthday Present
By excessivelyperky
Rowling: Her pitch, her Snitch, her Quaffle. I'm just refereeing this time..
Author's note: HBP did not happen! "I reject this reality and substitute it with my own." Then again, that's pretty much what writers do. I thank you all for the many reviews you've sent me. I want to continue to thank Snape's Nightie for Britpicking (and for writing many amusing e-mails and keeping my spirits up etc.).
Chapter 13: What Have I Done?
Albus Dumbledore
He looked out the window and watched Severus come back towards the castle from the other side of the Quidditch pitch. Albus knew he ought to be grateful. After all, Poppy had told him the Potions Master blamed himself. She'd lectured him about it a caustic way very unlike the calm mediwitch. Dumbledore turned his back and gazed at his office instead. He could easily use Snape's guilt, as he had before. He was the head of the Order, after all, and ought to use any weapon that came to his hand to win it.
The Headmaster caught himself, and frowned. That was the way Moody thought. That was the way Tom thought. What was the point of defeating a Dark Lord if the society that resulted ran on the same principles? It was not easy to go back to peacetime. The Wizarding World was far less free now than it had been a century ago, while The Wizengamot accepted restrictions that were unheard of even fifty years ago in the name of security. Of course the Ministry had to be carefully guided, or their regulatory fervor would eat away at the few portions of the magical world that were still free.
Yet, was that very guidance just another symptom of decay? Don't you know there's a war on? was the constant cry during the Grindelwald crisis. Some regulations still hung on from the emergency declarations during the Plague of 1918! Were they changing into a society ripe for a dictator just using the name of Minister? Fudge, though suspected of being corrupt, would rather govern as little. A replacement might be more energetic—supposedly a good thing in this present crisis, but possibly a disaster later on. A gentler, kinder Tom Riddle could easily be swept into office under the guise of Reform, the way that Robespierre had become the bloody-handed leader of Muggle France.
Albus sighed and sat down at his desk. Anything to keep from thinking about what he'd done to Severus! I can't talk to him yet, he thought. I don't know what I would say to him. We need the information he gets for us, and I despise him for the way he goes about it. He has every right to be angry over that, but I've told him he has no right to be angry at all. If it weren't for his students, whom I have made it obvious I've written off, he has little reason to stay here at all. Between the two of us we may end up pressing him so hard that he leave us anyway. And I must find a way to remove that nightmare hex. I never meant it to hit him so deeply.
He took a deep breath. No. I can't lie to myself. I did mean it to go that deep. I wanted to punish him for hurting Harry so much over the years. I was tired of hearing his complaints about the boy and his constant calls for expulsion. I was tired of hearing how my 'special privileges' were turning Harry into a copy of his father. I wanted him to see and feel what the boy's life was really like. The Headmaster tried to forget that Snape had left stinging notes about the Dursleys as soon as he'd given Harry his first Occlumency lesson, or that the boy's summer this year was far better than any of the others.
Damn that Magister for being right! He had to talk to someone who would understand. Albus sat down by his Floo and left a call for Lowenstein. The plump wizard's head showed up in his fire in less than a half hour. "So, you have read the instructions I have sent?" he asked.
"Not yet, but I will soon," Dumbledore said. "I called for another reason. As it turns out, I need to speak with your great-aunt. I find that I agree with you that some problems can't be dealt with alone. If she doesn't mind, of course."
The Magister nodded. "I will ask her to Floo you. It may be she will not care for this. She is not your age, Headmaster, but she is not young, either. Is there something you can tell me that may help her decide?"
"My reaction to something Professor Snape found necessary to do may cause trouble," Albus said. "I…I am not managing things well. I probably made the situation worse."
"I am sorry to hear that. You do not have to tell me, of course, but you need to talk to someone. This must be resolved soon, for when the regime begins the Professor will not be well for several weeks till he adjusts. Afterwards he will have to deal with the effects of expelling the toxins on a periodic basis till his system is clear again. He should not be an outpatient."
"I wish he didn't have to be. Other lives are at stake and I cannot risk them."
"And if this man falls under a burden too heavy, they shall be threatened anyway."
"You see my dilemma," Dumbledore said. Surely the regime couldn't be that bad, though. All the studies said that brewers who had gone through it were much improved, both in body and spirits.
"Yes. Perhaps this evening she shall Floo you. Be warned, if she is interested she will ask more questions than perhaps you like. It will do no good to hide things from her." Lowenstein looked vaguely disapproving. "Do I have your authorization to let her read his files?"
"I'm sorry, I must speak with her first," Albus replied. "I need to protect what little privacy Severus has left. You are sworn and protected somewhat magically by your position overseeing his care, but she isn't."
"That makes sense," Lowenstein said. "And now I must leave." The connection was empty.
The Headmaster could see that the Magister was angry. I hope his great-aunt asks a lot of questions, and is someone I can trust. I am so tired of this burden sometimes. I wish I could tell Minerva everything, but she might react the way I did instead of the way Poppy seems to have, and Snape deserves better.
That afternoon dragged horribly. Dumbledore forced himself to remember his gloves when dealing with the endless pile of paper, but couldn't help feeling the Ministry was slowly poisoning him anyway with their mind-numbing verbiage. A few hours later he couldn't stand it any more and sent the remainder off by a house elf, nearly invisible under the many scrolls, to Professor Binns.
He ate a meal the elf brought back with him, then napped in his chair till a sound from his Floo woke him up.
Dumbledore's eyes opened wide when he saw the woman's face in the fireplace. "Malachite," he said with joy. Even under the white hair he would know her.
"Alabastor," she replied. "It has been a long time since we heard either of those names. All we need now is to bring in Tourmaline and listen to him shout 'constant vigilance!'. Are those times returning, do you think?"
"If Tom Riddle has his way, they will. Britain first, then Europe, then the rest. I must destroy him now before he becomes another Grindelwald. He came very close almost twenty years ago. Fortunately we have a Child of Prophecy among us."
Of course he tested her first before he could trust her completely. People had been known to change over so many years. Some of his preliminary comments set up a resonance spell that would shake her composure if she bore the Mark in secret. But nothing changed, not even after he'd silently cast a spell to designed to remove any glamour.
She sighed. "Now that we have established that I am really me and you are really you, shall we get on with it?"
He smiled back at her. He'd felt the edges of her own magic through the Floo, no doubt testing him. "I fear I have to follow wartime protocol," he said. "I can tell you haven't forgotten anything, either. I am certain I would have turned into a walrus sometime in the last couple of minutes if I had been an imposter."
"No, a sea lion," Malachite said with a laugh. "I still remember your silly houses and all their animals. I would never be so rude as to force you into a shape you do not like. Now, about this Professor Snape my nephew worries about, what is his role?"
"Manticore. But with a difference. He fell under Tom's spell for a short while, but he came back to us, and has been a teacher at Hogwarts since."
"Surely he was honored for that choice? It is hard to come back from such a thing."
"I barely got him out of Azkaban in time," Albus said. He took a deep breath. He could tell her things that Lowenstein would never understand. "I know what you sacrificed yourself during the war. You'd never betray him or what I'm doing here. I'm so glad it turned out to be you."
"You may not be," she said with a smile. "Now, speak, and I shall listen."
He started telling her everything, then, from the time Severus had been a disruptive, brilliant student to the present day. He caught himself a couple of times trying to leave things out. Yet it had been his own amusement at the Marauders' cruel pranks and his desire to keep Remus Lupin from being expelled for something that wasn't truly his fault that had probably driven Snape to take the Mark.
Albus especially didn't want to mention the horrible things that had happened to the Potions Master as a child, or as Malfoy's dependent, but some of Snape's conduct made no sense otherwise. He felt his face turning red as he stuttered that out. In his day, such things simply were not spoken of, and definitely not to a woman of breeding, yet he had no choice.
He wiped his forehead as he finished with the events of the previous night. "Even now he's trying to do what I want him to. He came to dinner today and participated in the general conversation, even though I gave him no encouragement. Under the circumstances he would rather hide in his dungeons and I would have to ask Dobby to make sure he ate. I can't help thinking I should have been stricter with him all along, if this is the result."
"He sounds like a very irritating man," Malachite said.
Dumbledore breathed a huge sigh of relief. Madam Pomfrey had not been so gentle. "He is. Prickly, oversensitive, prone to rages, and harsh to the students. He's like a vicious hawk that won't come to anyone's arm but mine."
"And aren't you proud of that," she said flatly. "I was flattered when people told me that I was the only one who could manage my Manticore. You have choked the jesses on this Snape so tight that I wonder he can fly at all. In the guise of protecting him from your Ministry you have kept him in leading-strings worse than any pureblood paterfamilias." Malachite shook her head. "You must decide how you will proceed from now. If you are only the controller, then be professional. If you are father figure, then treat him like one. If you cannot decide, then tell him. You cannot expect him to get the information you need and then be set down for not being a proper gentleman about it. Women used his methods all the time in our war. It was expected. They had to release their fury, too, though we hoped not at the wrong time. It is normal for him to behave badly. He does not dare do so around anyone else. And now you have put him in fear, what is he to do?"
Albus blinked. He hadn't thought of it that way. "I don't know."
"In a way you did know this, Alabastor, or you would have dismissed him years ago over this Harry Potter. You should have set the rules at the beginning when this boy first came to the school, if this was so important to you. Snape would have had time to adjust or get help when it was much safer to do so. But then, he would have spoken to others how he was treated as a student, and you would have had to answer questions, I think. He did save this boy's life that first year, yes?"
"Yes," said Dumbledore. "And several other times as well."
"Is he ever rewarded for it, or only told he should be grateful to be out of prison?"
The Headmaster didn't dare answer that one.
"I see. Every time you make a change that hurts the professor, it is because of this boy?"
He sighed again, and looked back. "Yes. Potter is a Child of Prophecy, though. Without him we would have lost the war already."
"It is hard for such a boy to respond to ordinary discipline if he knows of his position," Malachite said. "There is some history, I think, that you are not telling me."
Albus was glad she didn't know everything about Harry. He had better admit some of it, or she would be right to think he was covering his own tracks. "His father was leader of the gang that tormented Professor Snape as a student, and the boy resembles him greatly. James Potter also married a girl that Snape had strong feelings for."
"And you do not try to make sure this boy has a different teacher?"
"It wasn't possible. Potions is a required subject." That sounded feeble even to his ears. "It wouldn't be right to make such exceptions."
"Not even when it would do both of them much good? I suspect many exceptions have been made for this boy already, one more would not have surprised anyone."
"I did try to get them to understand each other better," the Headmaster protested. "When Snape found out through Occlumency lessons last year about the boy's home situation, he sent me several protests."
"How very interesting," the old woman said. "This is, of course, all at the same time an interloper came to the school, you were not able to help, and the professor out gathering information through activities that disgust you?"
Put that way, it sounded much worse than it had been. Malachite continued. "And what is this boy's home situation? The story is that he is being raised by Muggles. Yet he looks smaller than someone his size should be in pictures when he is standing next to those his same age. I look at the photographs of his parents, and they are not so thin or short that he would take after them in that way, though of course there are always other ancestors. Have you been playing 'lost prince' with this boy to make him more grateful to go to Hogwarts and more happy to do as you ask him?"
Dumbledore flushed red with anger. "It wasn't like that! The boy's safety depended on blood magic, and his aunt and cousin are all that are left."
She raised an eyebrow. "He could have been raised outside of England," she suggested. "Riddle was gone for many years. In fact, he is weak now. What game are you playing, not to destroy him while his followers are so few? I suspect your professor would count his life a small price to pay if he could help with this."
"It…it is a gamble I think worthwhile," Albus said. Voldemort had to die. But did Tom Riddle have to die with him? He remembered an old story he'd once read—Begin again, Bianca… He had failed Tom as much as he had Severus or Harry.
"I think I begin to see," Malachite said. "You would have all three brought into your circle as they should have been, to erase the mistakes that were made. You gamble for a big prize indeed! But we are neglecting the professor again. It is easy to do that. He is contentious, and when he complains no one wishes to hear it. He has been taught that his wishes mean nothing, and that he owes his very life to you. Not even his body is his own. And those who receive the most benefit from him despise him the most, for if he finds friendships elsewhere, he might not have to rely so much upon your will only. He must be truly devoted to this cause, Alabastor! If I were him I would tell you all to go to hell!"
The Headmaster bowed his head. He had always said that Severus should develop more friendships, but even today he'd wanted to pounce into the conversation, purely for the Potions Master's own good, of course. All of the old witch's stinging indictment was true. "I know," he said softly. "What am I to do?"
"If you cannot love him, tell him so. Too many have played games with him for their own benefit. Decide what you truly feel. Perhaps he has not searched hard for others in his life because he trusted you. If he cannot do so, then he must find others or die alone, the way the Manticore did. You see, I am not so wise as I look. This man loved me, and I could not love him back, but I pretended because we needed him. After the war was over, I stopped and he knew that it was all a lie." She paused. "And you have a responsibility as well to see he is protected from his own side. You must have a lieutenant who can at least warn him that he must escape if you cannot do so. This is bad, very bad, that there is no one on his side. There is no safe place for him but death. For now it seems he will live for these other students he protects. Yet there are many ways of committing suicide that do not look like it."
She gazed directly into his eyes with dark greenish-brown ones brimming with tears. "I know your plans are deep ones," Malachite said. "If you must sacrifice him, you must, but you will lose something of yourself. We all have. We pretend to others that all is well, because to them it was a long time ago. But it never is. Now you must play the game again, and it is never easier."
"No." He was so tired, so terribly, terribly tired.
"There must be one person who knows all that you do, old friend. That is the first rule. Even when we were younger, we knew that we could die. If something happens to you and another steps into your place, that rule holds for them as well. You must be Alabastor again, or people will die who should not. It would be wrong for this Manticore to be destroyed by those he protects. I shall talk to my nephew. There are many places to hide a man if he does not mind where."
A sob of relief escaped Dumbledore's lips, though he hated showing any weakness. So many depended on him. Hogwarts itself stayed in its uneasy balance only by his will. "Oh, Merlin!" he said. "I've tried to look into the future as much as Sybil has, but I can never see anything but death at one set of hands or another for Severus. I keep trying to see him here at Hogwarts once Tom is no longer a menace, but the Potions room is always empty, or holds a stranger. I've never known what to do about it." He looked at his old friend. He had rarely seen her in person, but years of struggle against Grindelwald formed a bond that had never been broken. "I'll find some way to save him, Malachite. I'm not so old I can't learn. You are right about all of this. I've taken Snape's loyalty for granted. Voldemort is wise enough to sense it and that's why he's using the lure instead of the lash."
"Do not give him false honors or lie to him," Lowenstein's great-aunt said, clearly not ready to let the subject go just yet. "I suspect he knows the games of power. If he can tell this Riddle is lying to him, then he will detect it in you. Whatever you do, it must be real, and it must be something this new Grindelwald cannot provide for him. He will believe you are only turning around because of what the other side is doing. He is right, of course, but he is likely willing to accept far less from you if it is real. He must feel like a Bludger between two Beaters."
"I'm sure he does." The Quidditch simile hit home.
"And one last thing that I am sure you would rather forget. Men and women who have been forced will never be the same as others in many ways, no matter how they pretend to forget. Do not ever expect it. If you cannot keep your feelings from him, then do not do Legilimens at all. He hates himself enough because of what he cannot help without you adding to it."
"I know. I was so disgusted that I nearly threw him out of my office," he said, his head bowed. "What's worse, I found out later that he still blames himself."
"You have—oh, what is the Muggle phrase?—some eating crow to do. He will not tell you anything now except what he must. How does he keep this new Dark Lord from invading his mind?"
"He's a natural Occlumens, but I can get through his barriers." He looked back up.
She gazed at him with sorrow in her eyes. "So not even his mind is safe from you. He must love you dearly indeed to tolerate that. How can he bear it? How many times has he tried to harm himself?"
Albus was taken off guard and answered honestly. "Twice that I know of." Then he bit his lip. "I got there in time when Fawkes warned me. But there have been a lot more times when he's gone into situations he shouldn't." Snape had gone out to rescue Harry and his friends after just being healed of his head wound, with all the other teachers busy guarding the students. Dumbledore could name others as well, many from last year. "We're all used to him enduring more than we ask of anyone else. If he was really so fragile, he'd be dead already."
"It does not take long to let one's guard down," she said softly. "In years before, perhaps he still hopes that you cared for him. Now he knows the truth."
He hadn't thought of it that way. Albus grimaced. "Well, I was soundly taken down for it earlier today by Madam Pomfrey, our mediwitch. I had hoped you'd be on my side, since you were in the war and understand a few things that the younger generation simply can't."
"Well, you were wrong," said Malachite. "But then, I did much the same thing to my Manticore. It is easy to see the mistakes of others after that. I want to help if I may. It is hard for you to be Alabastor again after all these years. You cannot give what you do not have, and the sooner you face this fact the better. From what I have heard, this professor honors the truth even if it is what he does not like. Tell it to him, however distasteful."
"I did that with Mr. Potter and he wrecked my office," Dumbledore said wryly.
"And perhaps you deserved it, depending on how you lied to him earlier," she said. "If he ever believes you chose his home so he would like Hogwarts better, then you are in for more than just broken furniture. From the tales I have heard, he behaves as one who receives too much discipline in one place and not enough in another. This is why I mention you playing 'lost prince' with him. He is getting old enough to learn whatever truth there is, so you had better come to him with it first." She sighed. "Again we forget the professor. If you cannot be the person who comforts him, then just be his controller. From what you say, this mediwitch is concerned enough about Snape to tell you when you are wrong. Perhaps she ought to be the primary to him, and not you. She probably knows a great deal more about this new war than she is saying anyway, so what he confides to her should be safe."
That was a thought. He hated adding to the woman's burden, but given her scolding of him earlier today she was already acting as Snape's advocate. He would have to have a long talk with her first. Perhaps it was past time to hire an assistant for her as well. Dumbledore frowned to himself as he thought about the security implications. "You've given me a lot to think about," he told Malachite.
"Good. One thing I used to do when I was in a dilemma was to write down everything I felt and knew about a situation, even if I have to burn it. I wish I had done it for the Manticore. He might still be alive if I had used my mind on him, and not let things go as they would."
"This has been a fruitful conversation. May I call you again?" he asked.
"Of course. You need someone who can judge who is not in the middle of things. I will not always scold, I promise. I cannot imagine being Malachite for real at my age, and I sorrow that you must be Alabastor again." She gave him her home Floo coordinates, and the hours she would normally be available. "But if it is important, call my nephew and he can find me at any time. He is quite concerned about your professor and thinks highly of him. They talk shop for hours when Snape was at the clinic. I hear they even have a bet about some potion and your professor's students."
"Yes, McGonagall told me about that," Albus said with a smile. "I suspect your nephew had better start getting his Galleons together."
"And I am Francesca to my friends," she said in farewell. "I shall call again soon."
"Thank you," he said, and broke the connection.
He sat and thought. He certainly hadn't expected what he'd heard today, either from Poppy or from Malachite. Dumbledore brought out a quill, ink, and a piece of paper. He must write down what he truly thought, and as quickly as possible. Nearly all his actions would be ruled by that, no matter what he told others.
Voldemort gone. That was the first wish. And then he added Tom Riddle to begin again. The boy had once been the most brilliant student at this school, with Minerva a near second. He could have been Minister of Magic now, if he had not been so impatient with the strictures of Wizarding Society. But villainy was in the shortcut. Riddle had wanted to change everything at once in the name of restoring the world to the glory that it had in the past. Tom did have a point. Muggles were not waiting to change, and with their numbers so great were forcing the magical world to adapt to them, instead of the other way around. But the boy had never seen that this was a normal process, and had been for millennia.
If that had been all Riddle wished, the young man could have been dealt with. Pureblood politics was a swamp from which few emerged unchanged, especially a half-blood with no visible sponsors. Yet the greater families could have managed him if they had wished, or so Albus thought. Instead, the more conservatives ones had used him, or tried to use him as the Muggle Junkers had thought to use Hitler. Now they were the ones in thrall. Had that been Riddle's aim all along?
The Headmaster was uncomfortably aware that Voldemort's wish to murder those he considered inferior or in the way had probably begun quite early. Moaning Myrtle's ghost attested to that. Professor Binns' death had long been considered natural, but it was certainly unusual even for a Hogwarts that a teacher's ghost remain active for so long. Both deaths had occurred before Riddle's expulsion.
Dumbledore occasionally wondered if Tom Riddle had faced the same sort of unnatural vice that Severus had suffered from. Last night, Voldemort had appeared to understand the Potion Master's pain all too well, if only to use it to torment the younger wizard. Life as a half-blood in Slytherin could not have been easy, especially as a charity boy.
And yet, and yet…Albus still felt an essential brightness in Riddle, buried so deep perhaps only he could see it hiding underneath the smoldering darkness. How Tom must hate being the twisted snake-thing he was now! Somewhere in his heart, he might welcome the chance to start over.
But that might be easier said than done. According to Snape, the Dark Lord was now speaking of patience and outliving his greatest foe. That froze Dumbledore's heart, because Tom was right. Severus must goad his fellows into action, action that would expose them to the Order.
And what will Moody think when he hears of this from Percy Weasley? He'll believe that Snape has chosen the Dark for good. I'll have to have another talk with Mad-Eye, I suppose, and make sure he knows that Snape is doing this on my orders.
If Voldemort decided to go into hiding, there was little anyone could do till it was too late. The Ministry would think the menace gone and drift back into their normal coma. The only thing that might prevent this strategy from working would be if Riddle's physical shell began to deteriorate. Then Harry would be in special danger unless he learned how to close his mind to the Dark Lord. Albus hadn't wanted to mention that possibility to the boy, but now it looked as if he would have to. Yes, Harry had driven out Tom with the surge of love he'd felt for his godfather, and his willingness to die rather than to surrender. The blood magic of Petunia and Dudley Dursley ought to protect the boy somewhat, but if Harry let his love for Sirius Black turn into hatred for Severus Snape, then even that might not shield him.
Dumbledore knew he had been remiss in addressing the situation. The Occlumency lessons were supposed to have helped the situation, not make it worse. He had hoped that learning that their pasts were similar might have forged a bond between the two. Remus had told him about the incident that had led to the end of the tutoring. Harry's insatiable curiosity had led him towards an unattended Pensieve, as it had in the past. I should have warned Severus. I should have told him about the other time the boy got into it, he thought. They were all very lucky that Harry had objected to his father's torment of Snape, rather than cheering it. After all, hadn't everyone but the Potions Master told him how wonderful James Potter had been? It would have been quite easy for the younger Potter to conclude that being a Slytherin was enough to deserve the sort of thing Snape had gone through.
Can't imagine where he'd get that idea, an annoying inner voice told him. You were the one who let it happen. And look at everything the Weasley twins have done over the years. Oh, they've never picked on one house in particular, but you've let them get away with almost as much as the Marauders have. If it weren't for Umbridge being so much worse, people might have noticed it, too. But you're fine. Everyone hated her so much even the Snakes are glad to see you back.
Albus fidgeted uncomfortably at his desk. He should be glad that part of him still questioned the status quo. Most of the times, he was sure of himself. He had to be for the sake of everyone else. But here he could wobble and gloom in peace.
Time to write down another dream. Hogwarts united once more. He knew whose fault that was. It was all too easy to let others blame Slytherin for everything that went wrong. It was all too easy for him to allow Snape to bear the burden of discipline while he played the benevolent grandfather. McGonagall was strict enough, but even she often let punishment of the guilty occur simply by allowing Snape's lost points or detentions to stand, rather than levying those of her own. Snape, and Filch, too, were the designated 'bad guys' as American Muggles would put it, while the rest of the staff either were indifferent or openly sympathetic as long as their students behaved.
That was another problem. Filch was a Squib. If he didn't maintain his reign of terror, he could be in extreme danger from those ready to test their hexes. So far, only a few had dared. Their punishment had been enough to dissuade them from ever doing it again, but again, that had generally been delivered by Snape, who clearly felt protective of the stern caretaker. Also, Albus suspected that the house elves saw Filch as their chief and had laid certain protections on the man without his knowledge. Yet even the Gryffindors generally despised Squibs, and pitied them. Were it ever to become general knowledge that Filch was among their number, his days working here would be numbered.
Oh, he could unite the rest of Hogwarts, if he were willing to sacrifice Slytherin, and one grouchy Squib. But Hogwarts would never be the same. He had to lead the way, now and at the beginning of the year.
I have favored Gryffindor for too long, he thought. Some of the losses of the first war against Voldemort could be laid on his doorstep. Slytherin, after Lucius Malfoy left, had abandoned Snape to the mercies of the Marauders till he'd finally given up hope of any other protection and taken the Mark. How many other students had observed that and concluded that there was no use in reporting something done to them by a Gryffindor? Other students had taken the Mark from other Houses.
And then there was Pettigrew. Who knew what his friends did to their own when Snape was inconveniently unavailable? Such gangs often preyed on the lowest-ranking member when no other target was in sight. It had taken the Shrieking Shack incident to make James Potter turn around, though Poppy had hinted that that Potter was only keeping his fun and games better hidden. I told her then that I couldn't do anything till I received an actual complaint, he remembered. But why should Severus trust me enough to tell me anything? I had already forgiven those he believed tried to kill him. I should still be amazed that he came to me with news of the Potters' betrayal. He remembered the despairing young man, wanting only to be believed just this once. He never asked anything for himself, though. He only wanted Lily safe. But then, why should Snape believe that he could receive anything for himself? After all, he'd paid for staying out of Azkaban by risking his life spying for the Order. He had ended up in the prison anyway and in Moody's hands till it was almost too late. He'd served Hogwarts well at a position he loathed for years, and once again endured the worst that life could throw at him for the sake of the Order again.
Why should he believe he can receive anything for himself? Albus thought numbly. He wrenched his attention back to the question at hand.
Yes, he did favor the Gryffindors. Fortunately the Trio were no Marauders, though young Mr. Malfoy did seem to end up holding the short end of the stick in almost every confrontation. How many times had the young Slytherin ended up in the infirmary or badly hexed because he would not keep his mouth shut?
And doesn't that sound familiar?
He was glad, then, that the idiot at least had those two thugs around him. The parallels were striking, and Dumbledore would rather not follow them that far. Besides, even Snape grumbled about his godson's idiocy. It wasn't as if Draco had no protectors at all.
Yet most of the Slytherins weren't like the Malfoy boy. It was a good thing he read the files for that house at least once a year, and discovered what terrible pain lay behind their behavior. Oh, there was always a scattering of pureblood snobs convinced of their superiority, but Snape watched them carefully. They soon learned his particular kind of discipline. But Albus had to admit that the majority of Slytherin students had a past history that would crack a heart of stone. In fact, it would be a good idea for him to go through the files again, just to remind himself that being chosen for the House of the Snake wasn't a mark of shame.
The Headmaster wrote down another goal. Help Harry fulfill the Prophecy. That one, by rights, should have come first. So much had been heaped on that boy's shoulders. He was glad beyond words that Harry had chosen Gryffindor, but by now he knew that it had mainly happened by chance. If Draco had succeeded in getting Harry to shake his hand in Madam Malkins, Harry might have listened to the Hat more when it had suggested Slytherin.
In some ways, Harry's life might have been easier. Snape would have thrown a tantrum requiring a team of house elves to clean the debris, but then he would have buckled down and done his usual thorough research on the boy's home. He would have found out about the cupboard, the cuffings, and the semi-starvation much sooner. Dumbledore smiled as he imagined Snape's first home visit to the Dursleys.
Then his smile faded. Severus would have stopped hating the boy much sooner. The Potions Master never allowed outcasts in his house, even with Slytherins he didn't like. Harry would have ended up in a 'study group' as Slytherin first years normally did. He might be friends with Draco now, and the Snake Quidditch team unstoppable.
It might have been a different Trio that saved the Philosopher's Stone, Dumbledore speculated. Yet Hermione Granger might be dead, killed by a troll in the lavatory after young Mr. Weasley had teased her. Ron Weasley himself would be a wholly-owned subsidiary of the twins with no real identity of his own. And in Slytherin itself, it would become known that Harry was a half-blood, in the one house where that really mattered.
Yet Snape would have protected the boy, if only for Lily's sake. Albus realized that given Harry's home situation, he might have thrived better under the strict rule of Slytherin House, rather than continually being whipsawed between the Dursley household and the indulgent atmosphere of Hogwarts. Last year, of course, had been a complete disaster for the boy. At least Umbridge had showed Harry that there were people out there even worse than Snape! Unfortunately that lesson had been erased by Black's death,.
I love him, Albus thought. I love that boy as if he were my own. Nobody knew how hard he had struggled to keep from blasting the Dursleys into ashes once he'd learned how the family was treating the boy. Malachite was old, but not nearly old enough to understand the importance of blood magic. Her accusations of playing the 'lost prince' game had stung, as they were nearly true. It did take both a harsh and a nurturing environment for a wizard or witch to reach full potential. Too much indulgence ruined them, the way Lucius Malfoy and James Potter had been, while too much discipline twisted them, as Tom and Severus had been.
Before Harry had received his letter, Dumbledore had been afraid that he was going to have to provide the discipline the boy would need. Instead, the Dursleys and Snape had played that role, and wasn't that convenient? That allowed him to offer the nurturing instead, with the Weasley household and Sirius Black allowed in carefully measured doses.
I hate this! he cried to himself I hate treating the boy like one of Snape's potion ingredients! Damn you, Tom!
He allowed himself a rare indulgence. Albus got up and brought out an old portfolio. It was like looking in the Mirror of Erised to gaze at these old photos. He sat down and flipped through the pages of the album. Elspeth. Roger. Andrew. The faces of his third wife and his two adopted sons, all dead at the hands of Grindelwald, smiled and waved at him from the distance of half a century. Both boys were dark-haired and muscular, but had his wife's coloring, so few knew that the children had been taken in from a family overseas ruined by some catastrophe in the late 1920's. He would owe Binns a debt of gratitude forever. The History of Magic teacher had been the one who had arranged the double adoption when the real parents had died. Elspeth had blamed herself for barrenness, but Albus knew better. He'd never had children by any of his other wives, either. At least she had stayed rather than arranging a quiet annulment the way Mellicent had, or lingering for sour decades as Julia had before dying in the Great Flu.
Their deaths had been Grindelwald's last blow before the final battle. Dumbledore had gone into it not caring whether he lived or died, only that he must destroy this Dark Wizard for his beloveds' sake. Fortunately his heart had been given over to love for them, rather than turned sour by hatred of their murderer. And afterwards, Binns had also quietly suggested that he join the staff at Hogwarts, where he would always be surrounded by children. The Headmaster had sometimes been asked to replace the ghostly professor, but never would.
He closed the album and wiped away the tears. Minerva was as true a companion as any man could wish. If only…if only he weren't so old. Time had taken away his ability to make any woman happy. He had long resigned himself that the students of Hogwarts would be his only children. Everything would go to Aberforth and his line once he was gone.
But his children here were in danger. I can't let Harry destroy himself with hate. He still blames Snape for his guardian's death. I must work with the boy myself to fix that. I have to find a way to keep him from hate, or one of these days Tom's eyes will look out of his face forever.
Dumbledore had no doubt that Black had refused to stay in 12 Grimmauld Place once hearing that Harry and his friends had gone to the Ministry. Nothing Snape could have said would have kept him there. Convincing Harry of that would be difficult. Had there been any witnesses to that argument?
He sighed. If he had to choose between the welfare of the Wizarding World and giving Riddle another chance, he knew what had to come first. Necessary sacrifices had to be made.
Albus looked down on his paper. Sorting out his thoughts might seem like a waste of time, but this session had been well spent. Malachite would be proud of him for acting like Alabastor once again. Now to call Minerva in, and tell her what she needed to know.
Then his eyes fell on a dark, straight-backed chair normally filled by the Potions Master during staff meetings. Oh, Severus, I hope you never find out how far down the list of my priorities you are.
He had done everything but what Malachite had asked him to do. Yet that very avoidance told him all he needed to know about how he felt about Snape. He should tell Poppy that he was putting more responsibility on her for Severus' well-being. She was one of the few people who could get through the man's emotional barriers. Snape had already confided in her more than anyone else, even him. I'm asking too much of her. She will be stretched to the limit once school starts. But who else is there? He needs someone who will put him further ahead of the list than I will, who won't gag and turn away when he needs help. Malachite was right. I'm too busy with everything else to help him the way he needs.
Necessary sacrifices had to be made. Albus Dumbledore was very much afraid that one of them was going to be Snape.
Further Author's Note: The line Begin again, Bianca, is from Tanith Lee's "Red As Blood" from her anthology Red As Blood, and is a dark retelling of the story of Snow White. I strongly recommend that everyone read it, if they can find a copy.