The Best Revenge Authors Note: I was astonished at the number of reviewers who rebuked me for allowing Tom Riddle to be so unfair and unbalanced in his depiction of muggles. They were quick to point out to me that the Death Eaters had committed similar crimes. Well-um-I know that. Why in the world would Tom Riddle be fair and balanced? I have already warned my readers to take with a grain of salt anything that Severus Snape thinks or says about James Potter. I don't think I should have to follow every self-serving statement made by any of my characters with a pious disclaimer! Whether reading historical documents or fiction, a reader should be aware of points of view. Tom Riddle, when giving a description of people he hates, will always give the most extreme and highly-coloured version possible. That is why, for example, when speaking of Belle Gunness, he tells the impressionable children the scenario of her escaping (which is entirely possible, as the headless dead woman found in her burnt-out house appears to have been too short to be Belle). In addition, a number of you thought Quirrellmort should be instantly sacked for his dangerous demonstration. Why? In canon Dumbledore didn't sack him when Quirrell jinxed Harry's broom or set a troll on the students, even though it's evident that Hermione would have been killed but for Harry and Ron's rescue of her. The teachers were obviously far too late to do so. Dumbledore is never going to sack Quirrell and lose his opportunity to keep him under surveillance. Besides, painful injuries befall the Hogwarts students on a daily basis. Back in Tom Riddle's day, a student was killed and the Governors were satisfied with the expulsion of the student they held responsible. I've never understood how Hagrid got off so easily. In Harry's fourth year, Crouch/Moody turns Draco Malfoy into a ferret and slams him into the ground a number of times. He is briefly rebuked by McGonagall, but the other students are allowed to treat it is as jolly fun and just what a school rival deserves. However-you will see, in this chapter, that not all Hogwarts teachers are happy that Hogwarts is so unsafe...
News of the all-too-thrilling Defense class spread through the school. Poppy Pomfrey, immediately after dealing with Harry Potter's injuries, shared her opinion of a certain teacher's pedagogical style with Albus Dumbledore. At the end of classes for the day, Professor Quirrell was summoned before the Headmaster for a mild reproof.
"S-S-Sorry, Albus!" Quirrell stammered, head bowed in shame. "Th-Th-Things didn't go as I'd planned. I used a d-d-dummy with the next class!"
"Very sensible of you," Dumbledore agreed. "We really can't trust first years with edged weapons, my dear boy. I'm sure you meant well, but do exercise better judgment in future."
Students heard wild rumours about what had happened, and for the most part knew of the affair before most of the staff did. Harry was too embarrassed to complain about his treatment, but others had no such scruples. In Transfiguration class, the Hufflepuffs told McGonagall and the Ravenclaws that Harry had been hurt in Defense and had needed to go to the Hospital Wing. The Gryffindors told the Slytherins during Herbology. By the time the news reached Snape, the story was now that Harry had been put under Imperius and slashed repeatedly with a knife by an enraged Professor Quirrell, and several students had been injured in the struggle.
Snape dashed to the Hospital Wing to find Harry already gone, and Madam Pomfrey already back from the Headmaster's Office. Her rational version of events calmed his fears as to Harry's physical state, but his alarm that Quirrell was bold enough to try to arrange an "accident" in class was not easy to tamp down. He must do something-say something-to Quirrell, without letting his knowledge of the true author of the deeds slip.
It was not until after dinner that the Hufflepuff first years paid a visit to their Head of House. She had heard more about the debacle in the course of dinner, and sent for the students, wanting to hear the whole story from their own lips. Snape wanted to speak to Harry himself, but agreed to wait until Pomona had spoken to her Hufflepuffs as a group. He paced the floors of his quarters, firecalling back and forth with other staff members about their concerns. Minerva was insisting that they must present a united front to Dumbledore and see that Quirrell was dismissed-or somehow reined in.
When at last Harry arrived at his door, the boy was surly and abashed, hating the fuss that had been made of a minor injury, and hating the prospect of telling the story of his ignominious trouncing in class yet again.
"He knows I'm on to him," Harry told Snape, fidgeting in his chair. "He may not know everything, but he knows that I know he's up to something. Why else would he set me up to get hurt?"
Snape took another anxious look at Harry's ear, now entirely healed. "He's hopelessly incompetent. Students use knives all the time in Potions, but I've never allowed them to play the fool and wave them about. Quirrell is an idiot, but a dangerous idiot. Remember that. I will speak to the Headmaster about this, and make certain that Quirrell leaves you alone hereafter."
"What was really strange-" Harry stopped, unsure if he was being ridiculous.
"Go on."
"Well-it really wasn't a bad class except for nearly hacking my ear off. I mean-he actually taught us something, for a change, and he didn't stutter at all when he was talking."
"Not at all?" Snape asked, carefully expressionless.
"No-not while the lesson was going on. He was like this whole different bloke-really sharp and on top of things. I wouldn't mind having a go at that jinx he taught." Harry cocked his head, considering. "I don't think what happened to me was an accident. Do you reckon the stutter is fake?"
"No," Snape said quietly. "I think Quirrell has a genuine stutter."
"I felt like a right halfwit, falling down in front of the class like that," Harry confided sheepishly.
"You were unarmed," Snape said briskly. "It's no credit to the students who jinxed you that they could trip up a wandless opponent. A pitiful sort of triumph, at best." Getting up, he told Harry. "And now, I will escort you to the Hufflepuff Common Room. I need to speak to the Headmaster about this without delay."
"I have already spoken to Quirinius," Dumbledore reassured his concerned staff members. "There will be no recurrences of today's lapse of judgment."
"I should think not!" Flitwick squeaked indignantly. "Using Impedimenta on a child holding a knife! Classes are dangerous enough without deliberately inviting disaster!"
A murmur of agreement supported the Charms professor.
Sprout added, "It's a wonder more students weren't hurt. I don't know what came over Quirinius. I've heard some very queer things about what he said in class, too-all sorts of horrors about muggle murderers catching the children if they weren't careful. Talking about a fellow called Jack the Tripper-"
"I beg your pardon," Charity put in, "I believe that would be Jack the Ripper."
"Ripper-Tripper-all sorts of horrors about mad muggles catching children and killing them, and how the students should ignore the Statutes for Secrecy and Underage Magic Use if they were in danger-"
"Well-that's perfectly correct, my dear," Dumbledore pointed out mildly. "I questioned Quirinius about his subject matter. While unpleasant in itself, nothing he said was actually untrue."
"Muggle serial killers are a rare phenomenon," Charity spoke up. "I wonder that he didn't have anything to say about attacks by wizards. The children are far more likely to be in danger from our own kind."
"Not anymore," snipped Vector. "The days of You-Know-Who are over. I think we should give poor Quirinius a chance. He's afraid of his own shadow as it is. At least he was trying to teach something practical-"
Charity stiffened and turned red, getting ready to fire back. She was perfectly aware of the Arithmancy professor's low opinion of Muggle Studies as a class.
Minerva forestalled a quarrel. "-but he was teaching in a careless, ill-thought-out way. I hope you told him, Headmaster, that it won't be tolerated. Perhaps someone should observe his classes for a probationary period."
There were more murmurs, as this idea was examined and found reasonable. Sprout turned to the silent Snape, who was sitting in his customary place in the corner.
"You're very quiet, Severus. As Harry's guardian, you should give your own opinion."
"My opinion," Snape drawled, "is that Quirinius Quirrell is a bumbling nincompoop. I shall tell him so at the first opportunity. In addition, I'll tell him that if he causes any further harm to Harry Potter, he is unlikely to enjoy the consequences."
Professor Kettleburn gave a rusty laugh. "If the boy doesn't watch himself he'll start losing bits of himself younger than I did! Oh, well-just an ear. An ear isn't much. Don't need them except to hold up glasses and hats."
Snape rolled his eyes. Pomona Sprout refused to take it all as a joke.
"I'm not pleased with the security at the school this year," she said frankly. "First a troll running rampant in the halls, and now this! Something is not right here. How did a troll get in? Is there something wrong with the castle wards?"
The staff members glanced at one another uneasily.
Flitwick cleared his throat. "Albus, I really feel that we need to know if you think the troll was an attempt to harm the Potter boy. Someone so famous is bound to be targeted by the malicious-or by political enemies. Perhaps we need to focus a little more attention on keeping him safe."
Minerva put a quiet hand on Snape's arm, whispering, "We must bring Pomona and Filius into our confidence, Severus. It's time."
"Sunday afternoon," he whispered back. "Albus will be at the Ministry."
Harry was exploring thecorridors near the Defense classroom that night. Muffy had told him earlier that Quirrell was in his quarters, and so it seemed safe enough to slink along the wall, covered in his Invisibility Cloak.
Up ahead he heard voices: a man and a woman-and the woman's voice was edgy with anger. As he turned a corner, he saw that it was Professor Burbage, who had plenty to say to Professor Quirrell.
"I don't care if Professor Snape already spoke to you! I want you to know that I don't appreciate you poisoning the children's minds in that horrible way! Now they're going to see kidnappers and murders whenever they see muggles, and they'll be paranoid and stupidly fearful, like all too many people I've met since I came back!"
"S-S-Stupidly f-f-fearful?" queried Quirrell, very innocently. "You mean like the w-w-w-witches and w-w-wizards who ran away in the days of the Dark Lord? Oh! I f-f-forgot. Your own f-f-family-"
"Don't you bring my family into this!"
"S-S-So t-t-touchy!" Quirrell smirked briefly. "This is h-h-hardly the p-p-place for debate. If you h-h-have s-s-something to s-say, why don't you c-c-come inside and join me for a d-d-drink?"
"Really!-I-well-I don't know-" she hesitated, confused by the invitation. "After the way you've behaved I really don't think-"
Horrified at the idea of Professor Burbage being alone with Quirrell, Harry was about to throw off the cloak and create a diversion, but to his relief, a tall dark figure bore down on the scene, and put an end to Harry's worst fears.
"Quirrell," Snape sneered, "I believe I told you to confine your pitiful attempts at harassment to flobberworms and pixies. It's rather more at your skill level. Professor Burbage, you said I could borrow that book-"
Charity was pleased that Severus took her by the arm and escorted her away. That odour of garlic! Quirrell smelled worse every day, it seemed. Not at all like Severus, whose scent was sharp and herbal and quite intriguing...
The two of them disappeared down the corridor, while Harry remained motionless, watching Professor Quirrell. The turbaned professor was looking at his colleagues with an expression that Harry had not seen before, but which made him very uncomfortable. He was relieved when Quirrell re-entered the Defense Classroom and shut the door behind him noiselessly.
Snape, for his part, urged Charity away from Quirrell as fast as possible. Charity was becoming important to him. He had never before had the opportunity to experience how delightful the company of an attractive and intelligent woman could be. He had been practically cloistered here at Hogwarts for years and years. The witches he knew were older, and most of them had known him when he was a scrawny little boy. Those who had not were not particularly interested in wizards, anyway. He had begun his teaching career so young that almost every marriageable British witch his junior had been his student-and a great many of them loathed him.
But Charity had not been his teacher, and she had not been his student. They were very close in age, but had been neutral acquaintances at school, barely knowing the other's name. They had few preconceived ideas or prejudices to overcome. She had missed the worst years of the War, and was the saner and more balanced for it. She was not at all like Lily, but at this point in his life, perhaps that was all to the good. Lily had died so very young. He had no idea what she would have been like in her thirties. And it had been bitterly clear to him that she had never fancied him in the way he wanted so desperately.
Charity, however, did, and that was quite-agreeable. They had been very discreet, as the school had always required: so discreet that he believed that no one knew about the pleasant evenings spent in one another's company. He dreaded the day when it all came out. Pomona would gush, Minerva would tell him how very pleased she was for them both (in the same tone she praised superior classwork), Flitwick would wink knowingly, Hooch and Vector and Sinistra would gossip and cackle behind his back, and Albus-Albus!-would twinkle at him.
"Severus! I can't keep up!" Charity protested at last, stopping to catch her breath.
"Sorry. I just wanted to get you away from Quirrell. I heard him luring you into his quarters."
Her eyes sparkled with amusement. "I don't believe it! Were you jealous-of Quirinius?"
"No."
"You mustn't be. I don't even like him. There's something creepy about him-and not just the everlasting smell of garlic. I most certainly was not going to join him for a drink!"
"Good."
They were silent on the way to her quarters. Snape's mind was racing as he planned out what to say. He did not want Charity to confront that creature again, but he did not want to confide the truth to her. She was intelligent and sensitive, but transparent to a legilimens, and he had decided that he did not want to compromise her inherent honesty and candour by urging her to learn to lie and prevaricate and block her thoughts. He had risked enough in his life. He did not want the Dark Lord to make Charity a target.
But he must say something.
"Quirrell is-creepy," he told her quietly as they stepped into her sitting room. "There is something wrong with him. Albus knows about it, but you must not involve yourself. Stay as far from him as possible."
"But what-" she began, and laughed as he took her in her arms.
"Oh, Severus," she whispered after a moment, "you do smell lovely."
The weather had turned colder with the beginning of November. Every morning the ground was covered in frost. Harry found it hard to care. The quidditch season had begun at last, and he would see his first game, even if he froze stiff.
Luckily it was sunny despite the chill. The first game was Gryffindor vs. Slytherin, and it promised to be tremendously exciting. Ernie was impressed by Harry's fine omnioculars, and explained how to use them to watch the game. Justin begged to be allowed to look through them too, and Harry good-naturedly agreed to share them with all his fellow firsties.
They wrapped up warmly and streamed out to the pitch with the rest of the students and staff, finding places with the other Hufflepuffs in a stand draped with yellow and black. Harry waved at Professor Snape, who was wearing a green and silver scarf over his inky black robes. Draco was there, too, his hair bright in the autumn sun. He waved back absently at Harry, while he and his mates talked back and forth excitedly, leaning over to catch the first glimpse of the teams coming out onto the pitch.
Hermione was sitting decorously with Lisa and Padma. Blimey, she's brought a book! Harry had heard that was considered bad form in Hufflepuff, but he saw that other Ravenclaws had books, so perhaps things were different there. It might not do when Ravenclaw was playing, though, so maybe he should put a world in her ear.
Neville and the Gryffindors were bedecked in red and gold, roaring out a chant, waving sparkly banners. A Gryffindor boy that Harry had seen with the Weasley twins was high up in a stand with Professor McGonagall nearby.
"That's Lee Jordan," Cedric told them. "McGonagall's going to try him out as commentator. She taught him the Sonorous charm and all like they use in the professional leagues. Lysandra was disappointed not to be chosen, but there you are."
"I just hope it's not over in five minutes," Ernie said darkly. Harry had read his dad's copy of Quidditch Through the Ages, and so understood that some games ended abruptly when the Seeker caught the Snitch early on. Harry hoped that would not happen today. Cedric was going to explain the finer points of quidditch. He was a Seeker himself, of course, but he had also played Chaser, and knew quite a bit about tactics.
"Now the game you'll see today is probably going to be a rough one. The Gryffindors and Slytherins go all-out against each other. They've both got good Captains, and the teams each have their good points. Gryffindor has a decent trio of Chasers, and an excellent Keeper in Wood. I think their greatest strength is in their Beaters. Those Weasley twins understand each other without having to talk about it. It's like they read each others minds. Very tricky to get past. The Slytherins, now, have more muscle. Flint is a first-class Chaser, very fast and absolutely fearless. Their Seeker, Higgs, is good, too: better than Spinnet, I expect. She was a reserve Chaser last year, and I don't know if she has quite the-YES!"
Madam Hooch gave a blast on her silver whistle, and the distant figures on brooms rose into the air. Then everything happened very fast. Lee Jordan's voice, which sounded normal but which was loud enough for everyone in the stands to hear, described the action in exciting detail.
"-And the Quaffle is taken immediately by Angelina Johnson of Gryffindor-what an excellent Chaser that girl is-"
Harry didn't know the names of all the players, so the commentary helped him understand who was doing what. It took a little while to become accustomed to the omnioculars, and sometimes the girls' continuing conversation distracted him. He tried to ignore them, watch the action, and listen to Cedric's critique.
"-and look! I told you how the Weasley boys work together. See that? They're playing off each other and blocked Pucey neat as neat. Now look up there-Higgs and Spinnet are looking for the Snitch. It's not a bad idea to position yourself pretty high. The Snitch often appears much higher than the goals. All they can do right now is keep looking for a flash of gold. It's sunny today, so that helps a bit-"
The players zoomed and soared. Harry liked it. He had only seen a few football matches on the telly, and this was much better. Still, he couldn't help but feel that it would be more fun to play this game than to sit and watch it.
"Now look at that," Cedric went on. "Flint is a terrific Chaser, but he doesn't like to pass the Quaffle. He generally wants to make the goal himself. Beaters catch on to that, and they can focus on him, instead of watching for the other Chasers. He ought to give it to Pucey! Oh!"
Jordan's voice boomed out, "-and Johnson is in possession of the Quaffle-she's really flying-Keeper Bletchley dives-misses-GRYFFINDORS SCORE!"
Justin snickered, "Pretty clear which house he belongs to!"
They all laughed. The Gryffindors in the stands were jumping up and down and screaming. Boos rose from the Slytherins. Harry glanced around and saw that Hermione had looked up briefly from her book. She blinked, and resumed her reading.
"As I see it, the key to beating the Gryffindors is a good Seeker," Cedric said, more to himself than to the others. "Their Chaser and Beater work is very tight, and it's hard to get the Quaffle past Wood, but none of that matters if-"
He took a quick breath and grinned. Harry looked where Cedric was looking. A brief flash of gold glinted and disappeared.
"Was that the Snitch?" whispered Harry.
Cedric turned to him, surprised and pleased. "That it was, and now there are two of us who saw it before Higgs and Spinnet!" He smiled up at the sky, focusing on the game again.
Harry squinted, trying to spot the Snitch again. He asked Cedric, "If you see the Snitch when you're watching the game, are you supposed to keep quiet about it?"
"Absolutely." Cedric was very serious. "It's incredibly bad form to give a shout-out if you're in the stands. They can call the game, and then they have to play it all over again; so don't let on except very quietly if you see it. And even if it appears right over your head you mustn't try to catch it." He grinned at Harry, ruffling his messy hair.
"Hey!" Harry protested, batting his hand away.
The game went on, the action swift and unceasing. The Gryffindors were outscoring the Slytherins handily, though they weren't having things entirely their own way. Harry enjoyed the maneuvering and the tricks, but found himself looking for the Snitch. He nudged Cedric.
"There-off to the left."
"I see it-" Cedric nodded. "Higgs is on it!" His voice rose to a shout.
Other spectators had seen the Snitch now, and were standing up and screaming. Alicia Spinnet had seen it too, and was flying up, a streak of crimson to intercept the Slytherin Seeker. Hands were outstretched-they were neck and neck-
Harry was on his feet before he knew it, yelling along with everyone else. He wondered if the two Seekers would collide. Chasers hurtled out the way, forgetting the Quaffle in the excitement of the moment. A Bludger smashed toward the Seekers, startling Alicia and making her flinch aside. In that moment, Higgs put on a sudden burst of speed-
"-And he's got it! OH, NO!" screamed Jordan. "Higgs has the Snitch! Slytherin wins!I CAN'T BELIEVE IT! What a bloody-"
The Hufflepuffs laughed as Professor McGonagall took the Sonorous spell off Jordan and hustled him away.
Harry watched in awe as Higgs flew pasts the stands, the Snitch raised high in victory. The Slytherins had completely lost all pride and propriety and were hugging and screaming and sobbing with joy. The Gryffindors were hugging and screaming and sobbing, too: with disappointment.
"I could fancy some hot chocolate now," said Susan, rubbing her hands. This seemed a good idea to everyone, and they started clambering down the benches.
"A pretty good game, wasn't it, Cedric?" Hannah asked.
"Pretty good for the first game of the season," Cedric judged. "A bit short, but perhaps that's for the best in this weather. A good catch by Higgs. Spinnet is a faster flyer, but she made a mistake. What was it, Harry?"
"She-" Harry considered what he had seen. "She was watching the Chasers and missed the first glimpse of the Snitch!"
"Too right," Cedric agreed. "She was a reserve Chaser last year, and a good one. She should be playing Chaser this year, but the Gryffs couldn't cough up anyone better for Seeker. A Seeker needs to stay focused on the Snitch, and nothing but the Snitch." He clapped Harry on the back. "Fancy yourself as Seeker, do you?"
"I wouldn't mind," Harry laughed. "Think you'll let me have a look-in someday?"
"Dunno. Depends on how you shape up."
They inched forward, moving toward the stairs, when Harry heard distant shouts.
Madam Hooch was yelling, "Get it! Get it! The bloody thing is loose!"
A fearful crash, a hail of splinters, and screams as a Bludger exploded through the wall of the wooden stand. It was there and smashing through the other side and gone before Harry quite understood what had happened. He had seen a shadow, and felt a breeze fan his face, and then there was nothing but the panic all around him. Hannah had fallen down, shaking with fright. Sally was crying and pulling at the needle-like splinters sticking in her shoulder. Justin was trying to help her, and failing because his hands were trembling. All around them, the older Hufflepuffs were nursing injuries, and calling out to their friends. A few just stood there, completely bewildered.
Cedric, a streak of red along his cheekbone, pulled Harry around, searching his face. "Are you all right? Susan's hurt!"
A chunk of shattered wood had hit her in the head, and she was slumped over a bench. Anxious hands reached to help, and Professor Sprout trundled down from a higher bench to have a look and give reassurances.
"All right now! All right! It's over now, and we'll get you all sorted out!"
Seeing Susan, she said, "Oh dear, we'd better have Madam Pomfrey have a look at this one. You too, Manderly-Perks-Doge-come on behind. Clear the way. Spellman! You and Llewellyn Major have a look at the scratches." She muttered "Episkey!" flourishing her wand at Cedric's cheek. She was on her way, levitating Susan, before he could thank her.
Primula had seen Ernie, and shouted at him, "A Bludger got loose before they could lock it away." She leaned over the damaged stand to get a better view. "They've got it now!"
Cedric shook his head, giving Hannah a hand up. "Never a dull moment at Hogwarts-eh, Harry?"
Quirrell and his master observed the pandemonium amongst the Hufflepuffs with smug satisfaction. Let the little cowards squeal! With any luck, there would be a good few students in the Hospital Wing tonight. Quirrell struggled to keep his expression concerned, and carefully did not look at the old fool or the traitor. He knew he had overplayed his hand a bit in that class with Potter, and must lie low until he could go after the Stone in comparative safety.
That said, he could not resist a last slap at them all-if only for the sake of his own self-respect.
The fools were so easily deceived by poor, bumbling Quirrell. Still, it might be wise not to attract any more of Snape's attention. He was a traitor, certainly, and therefore a fool, but he was not as great a fool as the rest. What needed to be done could wait...yes...Christmas would be the time...the wretched little brats gone...the halls deserted...and just the right Christmas present awaiting him.
First, however, he must find a way to trick that great oaf Hagrid into telling him how to manage a three-headed dog...