The Birthday Present
by Excessivelyperky
Disclaimer: All belongs to Rowling and various assigns, including Warner Brothers, Scholastic Books, and so on.
Authors note: the idea for the posting of point schedules was borrowed from "Vector's Challenge" by Kayla Rudbek (and when the heck are you going to update, anyway?). It's probably been used in other fics, but I first noticed it in that one.
Sorry to be late—spent the last week in Las Vegas watching shows and seeking a slot machine that would be nice to me.
Chapter 37: Walls
Albus Dumbledore
The Headmaster was pleased to see Severus come through the door of his office and sit. The Potions Master might be summoned soon. His friend had to learn to raise what walls he could—and know how to lower them as well.
He was not so pleased to notice how still Snape sat, as if hoping a predator would pass him by. After a moment, during which he greeted the man and offered the inevitable lemon drop, Albus realized why. Terrible thing had happened to Severus in here at his own hands. He ought to count it a miracle the younger wizard was here at all. Fortunately there was an alternative. "Severus," he said, "it's such a pleasant evening and we should enjoy it. We'll have to button up the place soon enough when the season changes. Follow me."
He led Snape out through his personal quarters to a balcony. One wave of his wand made an opening and a set of steps appear that led down into a garden. Dumbledore walked down with the other wizard behind him. "We don't have to do anything if you don't want to," he said. "I would like to test your barriers because you may be summoned soon, but that's all." Albus sat down in one of the chairs in this charmed garden, while a second one magically appeared. "The wards here are as strong as those in my office. It will be quite safe for you if you decide to try to lower your mental walls or relax them entirely."
Severus eyed the chairs, and the small table which had also added itself in, as if they were charmed dice. He gingerly sat down.
Dumbledore felt impatience, but reined it in. Trust had to be earned, especially after how badly he'd treated Snape.
Tea and crumpets rose up out of the table, along with the cream and sugar dishes. Severus poured, though his hand shook a little. "It…it is nice out here."
Indeed, it was. The lingering warmth of the fading afternoon and the deepening twilight gave an air of tranquility to the small pocket garden, which was laden with plants offering peace. Albus wished the clouds had waited for another day, but itwouldn't rain till morning, he was certain of that.
"I know you won't enjoy your tea if you think it has to be paid for later," the older wizard said. "It will take a moment to cool anyway. I'll test your walls now and get it over with." He lifted up his wand, making sure his movements were slow enough for Snape to anticipate. "Legilimens." He almost whispered the spell, as he would for a child. His mind flowed out as gently as possible, letting the magic surge like an outgoing tide rather than a rushing flood.
Albus was pleased to see Snape's House of Memory intact once more. The walls were firm, with no holes or wreckage. However, he noticed a difference. Instead of washing up against the walls and being denied entrance, or knocking at the door, he found himself shunted down a hallway and into the small room in the dungeons that clearly held happier memories.
He was pleased to see more tokens representing joy than had been there before. When he tried to snoop by touching each object, he was unable to discover anything. What an interesting twist! As he mentally left the 'office', he discovered he had to work to keep from being thrust back there again.
Dumbledore also saw the young wizard's mental image of Hogwarts wasn't as empty as it had been last summer, but contained some of the uglier memories that had been confined in a chest in Snape's version of Knockturn Alley. He didn't look in his friend's model of the Headmaster's office, for fear the portrait and 'Vernon Dursley' might be there.
He returned to the real world, wishing there had been some other way to test Snape's walls. "I hope that didn't hurt," the Headmaster said.
Severus trembled as he tried to lift a cup of tea to his lips. "No. Not really."
Albus knew that for the lie it was. "I'm so sorry. I should have done this in the office and brought you down afterwards. Now you won't be able to relax here, either." He placed his wand on the younger wizard's side of the table. "I won't do anything else while we're here this evening. You may pick it up if you like."
Snape stared down at the length of hickory as if it were going to bite him. He tentatively reached out and ran his fingers down its length. "Both dragon heartstring and phoenix feather? How…why doesn't the wood burn?"
"Not many realize I have both in the same wand," Albus said. "Almost nobody realizes it from a touch."
"My father's mother was an Ollivander," Severus said. "Just as well. We never would have been able to afford a wand without the family discount."
Dumbledore kept quiet. This was progress, and he didn't want to disturb it. The Slytherin almost never talked about family or finances, and now he'd spoken about both. Albus didn't understand why the Ollivanders hadn't taken Snape in after his parents' death. The wand-gift was far rarer than it used to be. No doubt the Malfoys put in a prior claim, he thought. He drank his tea in silence, hoping the enchanted peace of the garden and the breeze still warmed by the afternoon's sun would help Snape.
After a few moments Severus picked up his own cup again. His hand didn't shake as much this time. "I'm afraid," he confessed in a soft voice. "I'm afraid of what's going to happen the next time I'm summoned."
"Very reasonable," the Headmaster said, stunned by the admission. "Only a fool wouldn't be terrified."
"I keep wondering what he found out when I lay at his feet," the younger wizard continued, his grip tight on the cup. "Yet, if he discovered what was really there, why am I still alive? Why did Macnair tell me in Diagon Alley I was to be paid back for the extra wands I bought for the apprentices?"
"That's a good question," Albus said. "The Ministry missed that exchange, by the way, or didn't bother to put in their report. How is to be managed?"
"I have an account at Madam Malkins and at Flourish and Blotts. I had a positive balance in both of them I didn't expect. I gave into temptation at both of them, though not much."
"I wish you had bought something just for yourself, Severus."
"I did at Fortescue's," Snape said, one corner of his mouth turned up.
Dumbledore didn't pry. Apparently Mrs. Weasley's quick visit had not been unwelcome. The woman could end up being quite helpful if the time ever came when Snape needed someone to speak for him. Severus has a bit less than two years left, but he could still survive me. It would be terribly wrong for him to perish at the hands of the very people he protects.
Albus was about to mention the possibility when he looked up and noticed his friend leaning back in the chair, his eyes half-closed. He waited. The younger wizard deserved this moment of rest.
Snape's eyes closed all the way after a few moments. Dumbledore looked at the tea leaves in his cup, which made no discernable pattern he could see, even after years of listening to Sybil. He peeked over at the other cup. Ah! That configuration was 'unrequited love' or something like that.
Perhaps, despite the younger man's protestations, he had fallen for Narcissa Malfoy. They had had to work together on the legal issues recently, and Snape was terribly susceptible to any sort of kindness. Nothing likely had happened, and no doubt ever would. Severus had always been as discreet as his position would allow in his private life. From what Albus had read about the potions regimen, the younger man was quite likely unable to create a scandal even had he wished.
A pity Severus could not fix his affections on someone more available. Lucius Malfoy was notoriously jealous of his wife, and remarkably so given his own reputation. I'm probably creating a castle out of clouds, or in this case, random tea leaves, Dumbledore thought ruefully. I wish he could have the love he wants before he dies.
After a few more moments, Snape woke up with a start. Albus pretended not to notice the Potions Master had been asleep at all, though inwardly he was quite pleased Severus had felt safe enough here to doze off.
Snape finished his cup. "I had better go find out which of my students have hexed themselves or each other," he said as he gently placed the Headmaster's wand back on the other side of the table. "I haven't been awakened by any disputes, but that won't last much longer. Or I'll find out who's intercepting my late night callers. Young Malfoy seems unnaturally mature these days, and may think to protect me. I don't want him to take on upsets he's not really qualified to manage by himself."
Albus smiled to himself. Filch had noticed Winky snoozing by the door to Snape's private quarters. No doubt the students had to run quite a gantlet to speak to their Head of House. Yet Severus needed his sleep. He couldn't bring himself to stop this situation just yet.
"If anything involves blood or fire you'll soon learn about it," the Headmaster said. "Next week I'll do any testing with you upstairs. I want to find you a place where you can feel safe."
Snape grimaced. "Do you know a way out through the rest of the grounds, or do we need to goback through the office?"
"Go past the hollyhocks over there. You should see a path that leads back around to the front. It disappears from behind you, but I'll set the wards so you can find it again."
"Thank you." Severus stood up and left.
Dumbledore whispered a spell to the guardians of this place. Snape would be allowed in whenever he wished, despite not being Headmaster. The younger wizard's barriers had bent a little and not lowered at all, even though he'd fallen asleep. How can I blame him? I must work now to regain the trust I lost by hurting him so badly. He must have protected the secrets of the Order somehow even when Tom nearly killed him, or he would be dead now. Riddle was forever rushing his fences, and surely would have used what he learned from the Potions Master if he had discovered anything of use. Snape's mind must have been in so much turmoil that grasping specifics must have been difficult.
He summoned a house elf and had the table and its contents cleared away. The staircase back up lowered itself and returned him to the office. Minerva waited for him inside, already drinking a cup of tea from the pot on his desk. His quarters had long been open to her, even before she became Deputy Headmistress.
"How did it go?" she asked.
"He's still too afraid to show any anger," Albus said.
"He will eventually, though Poppy thinks the potions are helping already. I've heard from some of the students who almost miss his shouting, while Mr. Longbottom is circulating a thank-you card to send to the clinic. I think he's just too exhausted, though he normally shows how tired he is by blowing up. At least he seems to be eating properly."
"Trelawney should get some credit for that. As long as she enjoys 'the Muggle muck' Severus is willing to go along with it in his diet, too." The Headmaster had noticed the surreptitious glances the Potions Master had given Sybil's dinner whenever they were at the Head Table at the same time.
"Thus speaks a man who's always had a sound digestion," McGonagall said. "Of course, when you're overstressed you eat too many sweets and your skin breaks out."
"At my age, too. It's not fair!" Fortunately his beard concealed most such blemishes.
She made a derisive noise. "When I first hear the shout 'those dunderheads!' I'll know he's really feeling better."
Dumbledore nodded. "His normal teaching style is full of sound and fury, even before Harry started. Before then, that was just his usual noise level. I should have realized he was past his limits long ago. I really thought he was getting over things the year before last, though."
"That was because he thought Moody was here. We all could see how frustrated he was, but he shut up whenever the man we thought was Alastor walked into the staff room. On top of that, the Mark must have been bothering him even before it starting burning in earnest, from what I recall of him that spring. Severus must have thought you were trying to keep extra watch on him by bringing Mad-Eye here."
"No, I was more worried about Karkaroff, and I thought it was time Harry had better training since Lupin couldn't stay. Severus tried to tell me something was wrong, but I thought he was just ah, reacting…"
The witch's lip grew thin. "Yes. Lupin, who almost killed him, one year and the next, a person that Poppy refused to shake the hand of the next. She wouldn't say much about Moody that year, but she was more than happy to fill me in once he was discovered to be an impostor. I must admit, we all found it suspicious when Crouch was disposed of so….quickly. Unfortunately, having to spend so much of the summer at Grimmauld place left Severus little time to gloat. Now that I know what his duties were last year, I am quite amazed he managed to teach at all. He thought little of Umbridge as well."
Dumbledore heard the rebuke on her voice. "She is quite discredited now, Minerva, along with her sponsor Lucius Malfoy. I wish I hadn't let things go so far."
"You put Harry in danger, too," McGonagall said. "I suppose that we should all be used to how you treat Severus, but I was surprised you allowed the boy to be harmed."
"You were nearly killed as well. I made many mistakes last year." The Headmaster sighed. "I would still give almost anything to have heard you say, 'it unscrews the other way.'"
The witch grinned. "Peeves and I have been much better friends since." Then her face grew sober. "However, the rest of the staff and I are still quite concerned about Snape."
"Your warning has been received," Albus said with a nod. "I plan to speak to a friend in Switzerland who has some experience in these matters. I hope to arrange a haven there if the worst happens."
"That's a good idea. But we are interested in his safety here as well. I know you wish him to trust you again, but we really think one of us or Poppy should sit on any future meetings. I seem to recall a promise made about that, actually."
"He fell asleep in his chair down in the garden, even though I had to test his barriers at first because I'm worried about him being summoned."
"Good. I'm sure either Poppy or I would have enjoyed seeing it."
McGonagall could be ruthless. Dumbledore knew Flitwick was even more so, while he'd rather wrestle a Norwegian Ridgeback without a wand than get between Poppy and a patient. "Then choose someone and have them here next Sunday evening about this time. I'm on trial with you now, aren't you?"
"Yes. How perceptive." Minerva looked down into her cup. "Your absence last year was understandable, though inconvenient. Your actions this summer were…abominable. Well, as long as I'm here, what news on the Order front?"
"Not much. I really am afraid Severus will be summoned, probably at just the wrong moment. Of course, there's never a right one."
"You should be frightened for his students as well. Percy Weasley is young, but he stands a better chance of survival than we all think, I daresay. Alastor does train his people well."
"Tom must be desperate to recruit so many underage followers," the Headmaster added.
"Or wants us to think he is."
"True. Azkaban must be carefully guarded."
"For a number of reasons," McGonagall added, who looked as if she'd bitten into something sour.
Dumbledore nodded. "Malfoy continues to appeal his captivity. Fudge keeps putting off the trial. One wonders if he's gathering evidence or bribes."
"I hope Severus finds it easier to make his reports at the safe house this year. I heard stories, and Lupin only confirmed them. I cannot believe that even Sirius Black was that petty."
"I found it hard to believe, too, but I had no choice. Mrs. Weasley knew about it, too, and probably thought I did as well. When she complained to me, I gave her a specious bit of reasoning how something like that helped Snape with the other side." Albus knew he had a very bad habit of sweeping any problems Severus had under the carpet. "As far as others go, I've spoken with Moody already, and will do so again."
The Deputy Headmistress snorted. "I'm surprised he hasn't realized that if Snape were really a traitor, a number of people would be dead already and in ways where we would blame someone else. As it was, I spoke to Remus and he confirmed how Snape did try to convince Black to stay in the house. I shall make sure he tells Harry of it, just in case he's forgotten."
"Fortunately the boy had a good summer. Severus managed it far better than I could."
"Ah, yes, the pensieve. I really wished I could have told young Mr. Potter exactly who had given to him, but I was just as helpful, or I should said say unhelpful, as you asked me to be. What is so wrong about just telling him, anyway?"
"We don't have much of a record for telling him the truth. He's far more likely to believe it once he discovers the identity of his giver for himself. I don't want him thinking Snape was forced into the gesture."
"Even though he was," Minerva said.
"The memories were his idea, and his idea alone, my dear. I am terribly afraid the temporary peace he gained by disposing of them for Harry's sake gave Severus the idea to hide too many more." Albus would never forget the shock and horror of them smashing into his mind once he'd broken the seal on the 'chest'. "He needs time to recover before giving Harry any more Occlumency lessons. I can only go far before the boy requires more instruction than I can properly give."
"Aren't you still afraid of Tom appearing the way he did last spring?"
The Headmaster drained his cup. "Yes, of course I am. Right now there is little danger, because I haven't gone beyond teaching the first steps of using a pensieve. Later may well be another story. However, Harry was able to use one of the memories he was given to fight off the suicide spell to a certain degree when he was returning home from the boxing tournament. There are several forms of Occlumency. Severus must use the hardest kind because he cannot appear to be hiding anything, hence his use of the old medieval House of Memory. However, Harry can use the method that most suits him, since resistance would be expected of him. Pure concentration on something else can often block a Legilimens. In fact, Snape uses that method subconsciously—I may as well try to read a brick wall as to use the spell when he's brewing something quite complicated."
"I would merely turn into a cat." Minerva smiled.
"That one works as well," the Headmaster said, remembering how Sirius Black was able to slip past the Dementors. "Someone like Vector could concentrate on complex equations, for instance, or Madam Pince on the library cataloging system. However, most of those methods require knowledge of being enchanted and a moment or so to ready one's mind. Tom moves extremely fast and hard to break the initial mental barriers most people have, or why Severus must have his barriers up for longer than is good for him. This is why Harry will eventually have to go back to him for advanced training."
"What would happen to Severus if Tom decided to show up then?"
"I…I don't like to think about that," Albus said. His throat went dry. "I didn't realize Harry would welcome the visions so much he would actively fight being trained. I will have to be careful to ensure Riddle is not just lying low waiting to entrap me, or merely listening in. Someone with his abilities can do a great deal of harm to another's emotional structure merely by encouraging tendencies already in place."
"I wish I knew enough of the art to help," McGonagall said.
"I wish you did, too. Once I learned what really happened, I can't say I blame Snape for stopping the lessons when he did. Harry snooped into the pensieve where Severus kept some rather unpleasant memories about the Marauders, and found an ugly one. I am glad the boy didn't gossip, but unfortunately that was not the way to bet."
"Oh." The Head of Gryffindor bowed her head.
"Don't blame yourself," he said softly. "You weren't alone in letting them run rampant. I thought they were good-hearted enough not to do any real damage. I even believed Sirius was only being thoughtless and not malicious when Severus nearly died." No wonder Snape had tried to purge himself of so much of the past.
"There was more than any of us knew. I've had a little chat with Lupin and he saw a great deal he didn't report, since he valued the others too much as friends. I also believe he feared becoming their target if he talked too much."
Dumbledore could have told her about every incident not long ago, though those memories were fading fast. He should store them away before he lost too many of them. Second-hand ones never stayed long, and it might be useful to have a tally to jog the werewolf's own recollections.
"That's why young Mr. Weasley isn't a prefect this year," Minerva added. "No one really expected him to manage the twins, but he didn't try. Mr. Montague may never recover from his treatment at their hands. There was some unpleasant talk about the young man among my students, and of course the whole disaster of Umbridge and the twins diverted attention from what they had done wrong. I will not allow it again on my watch."
He was uneasily aware of the parallel. Another Slytherin nearly dead, another set of Gryffindors in glory, and the school divided. Albus suspected that few Hufflepuffs or Ravenclaws would join the DA this year were it reactivated. Parents handed down stories to their children, and older brothers and sisters did the same for younger ones. He already knew that the other two House heads rarely brought him complaints about Gryffindors—or Slytherins, for that matter. Except for last year, which he suspected everyone wanted to forget. "In that case, I am glad to see Miss Granger's health allows her to be a prefect this year. She has a strong sense of justice, though she is quite loyal to her friends as well. I am thinking about her for Head Girl next year, and possibly Mr. MacMillan for Head Boy." It was early, of course, but all the staff had their preferences, and some students were watched from their first year.
"Shouldn't you speak to Professor Flitwick?" Minerva asked hesitantly. "Miss Edgecombe…she doesn't seem to have many friends this year, and it's probably just as well, but she was a close acquaintance of Miss Chang last year."
Albus smiled. "She's perfectly fine now. Besides, Flitwick was the one who pretended not to know the counter-charm when the hex made itself apparent. On top of that, I understand Severus sent Miss Granger some material on the Wolfsbane Potion this summer, as well as to Mr. Malfoy. I realize Snape may have to concern himself with the Edgecombe girl to some degree, but he's clearly depending on the cleverest witch in Hogwarts to help win that bet with Lowenstein."
"That would be quite a feather in his cap," the Deputy Headmistress said. "I would still like to see Miss Granger capable of learning from her mistakes before placing her in such a position of responsibility. Remember, all the Houses will need to rely on her. I fear the way she managed Madam Umbridge might give her too much belief in her capabilities. I realize by now her statement about the troll in her first year was a falsehood designed to shield her friends from punishment, but it was one quite easy to believe, now wasn't it? Pride before a fall, Albus."
"I'm certain she learned a great deal from the Ministry Raid," Dumbledore said.
"Perhaps. We don't know yet. She is still far more likely to help her friends get into trouble than to stay out of it. I rationalized myself into some dreadful messes at that age, though fortunately not at a time when such folly could be quite so…deadly." She took a deep sigh. "Well, when is the next Order meeting?"
"In a couple of weeks. I believe Severus should attend. It would do him good to have the house finally accept him without other stresses." Sirius Black won't be there. That ought to help.
McGonagall rose, and the Headmaster naturally stood as well. "Here's hoping for a better than year than the last," she said in farewell.
"The same here." He watched her leave. Then he turned his chair around to watch for stars up in the sky over his garden, and the rest of Hogwarts as well.
Albus Dumbledore felt the fading of his strength as the last of the twilight disappeared. The spirit of the school now sustained him, rather than the other way around. How long could it last before he took too much? If he had true courage, he would step down now, allow McGonagall to become Headmistress, and devote all his time to the Order. I am being selfish. I don't want to leave here ever.
It was hard to remember not everyone saw Hogwarts this way. Despite the light the Bride had showered on him, Severus would always find this place a prison full of sorrow. Yet the bars holding the Potions Master captive also protected him from the Ministry who would use him as a scapegoat for their own folly. Snape had refused the escape offered him earlier this year, though only for the sake of the students in his care.
Trelawney and her prophecy, Albus thought. He has so little time. He probably thinks he has no chance for anything he wants. At first he'd believed Snape had been teasing her, too. When Sybil had repeated the short poem, though, Dumbledore had felt the echo of power in the rhyming words.
Would Harry be ready so soon? His own calculations, as well as those from Vector, showed a crisis not this spring, but late into the next. Future probabilities were chancy things, but the Arithmancy Professor knew her field better than anyone outside the Foundation. In fact, he'd consulted with them as well, though only in general terms, but had received only a couple of nonsense phrases about the red baron teaching the white knight to fly, and the red queen overcoming the dark one. The only Baron he knew was the Ghost of Slytherin…well. That one might come true after all.
He bowed his head. The prophecy for Snape called for the role of sacrifice and the falling of the light. Albus feared the same for Harry. Will I have to bury them both?
Severus Snape
Severus made ready for bed. He felt weak and trembling inside, though he'd kept up a stern front as he'd walked through the dungeons in case any students were around.
Of course the old man has to test my barriers. I can still be summoned at any time. Just thinking about that made him more terrified than ever. At least his walls still held. Snape had felt the Headmaster's presence inside his room of happy memories, so the shunt he'd put in months ago remained in place. Albus hadn't been able to really touch anything inside, so the new protocol was working as well.
But it still didn't make sense for him to have the ability to bend or lower his barriers. If he knew how to do it, the Dark Lord could learn it and force him to do so, and then all would be lost. He sat down on the edge of the bed and wondered what the Headmaster was really up to.
Snape had been amazed when Dumbledore had allowed him to touch his wand. Wizards and witches almost never allowed someone else to handle their own symbols of power. It was hard to remain cynical after that gesture of trust. No wonder Albus was so strong even at such a great age with so much fire in him, and so well contained.
I can't believe I actually fell asleep down there afterwards, he thought. Now he felt restless and shaky at the same time, as if he'd been brewing with Ashwinder eggs all day. Perhaps being in contact with so much flame upset his own balance.
Now I'm sounding like Trelawney or one of her idiotic books! Yet even when he lay down after taking his final potion for the evening he had trouble sleeping. That was probably from having such a lie-in for two days in a row. After a while, he sat back up. He knew from long experience that staying in bed like that wouldn't work at all.
Severus went out to the chair by his fireplace and took one book at random from the stack Sybil had left him. He wouldn't have much spare time once the essays began thundering in, and he had promised. The first volume recommended about a yard's worth of whinging every morning just to get the day started properly. He had to smile at that one. His trouble would be learning how to stop! Snape set that book aside, to be gone through in more detail later, and picked up another one.
Ah. This one contained relaxation routines. He rather liked the one calling for imagining himself in a garden. Severus lay back in the chair, pulled the lever to lift the leg-support, and closed his eyes. He tried to hear the gentle sound of insects, feel the light, cooling breeze, inhale the scent of the last of the summer flowers, and know he was safe from any intrusion with the Headmaster's wand within reach.
He was just drifting off when he heard voices outside the door. A good thing he'd been out here—he always cancelled the Silencio across the threshold of his bedroom when school started, but sound didn't carry as well to it anyway. However, students having an emergency usually knocked loud enough for him to hear their pleas anyway.
Severus levered the leg-support back down, threw on a robe, and went to the door. Winky held one of the children and cooed to her, as the girl sniffled all over the house elf's shoulder.
"Are you all right, Miss Walsh?" he asked.
""Nightmare," she sobbed. "Papa and Mama were yelling again…didn't want to wake up my roommates."
He fetched a small cup of watered-down Dreamless Sleep Potion. "This will help. Take this back up to your room and drink it, then return the cup to me tomorrow morning. It works rather quickly, so you should be in bed when you take it."
"Yes, sir," she said, disengaging herself from Winky. "Thank you, sir."
He was glad Winky was here. Students often needed holding more than a kindly cup, but it would not be proper, nor safe, for him to do so. But he certainly didn't expect the elf to be on duty all night. Miss Walsh left with the cup in hand blubbering her thanks.
Winky stood with her head bowed. "She just want to cry, Master Potions Master. Doesn't know quiet spell yet, not want to wake other girls."
That was worrisome. He was used to children afraid to disturb others with their distress, for fear of untoward results or knowledge no one would help, but it was still wrong. "Have you been on duty like this all week?"
"Yes, Master Potions Master, but I's gets plenty of sleep right here," she said, still looking down at the floor. "I's to get Master Shiny-Head if student hurt bad."
"Well, he needs his sleep too. I shall have to speak to him about that," he said, trying to keep his voice soft. Snape closed his eyes, trying to think before he started yelling. Part of him was angry he wasn't being told everything. He didn't care much for being wakened in the middle of the night, but he certainly preferred that to ignorance. Another part of him was astounded Winky and Draco thought it was so important for him to get enough sleep to give up some of their own rest. I was so tired last week, and the next one will probably be worse.
He decided he could manage this rationally for once. Snape transfigured an extra chair from his parlor into a small pallet for Winky. "If you're going to waste your time sleeping outside my door, at least have something to rest on. If you cannot manage the problem, you are to tell me, not Mr. Malfoy. I am still the Head of House, and it is my responsibility to look after the little dunderheads when they become homesick. Many of them have unpleasant family situations I must learn about. Remember all those Harmonia Potions you helped me brew? They were for Mr. Harry Potter's family. Surely Dobby has told you about him?"
"Yes, Master Potions Master," Winky said, looking up at him with wide eyes.
"I didn't know how unhappy his family was until last year, because he isn't a Slytherin. But I was asked to help because I have practice with other students. The stamps come from his aunt, who was worried and wanted things to be better. They were better last summer, and you helped me with that."
"I did?" She blinked.
"Yes. But I can't help the students if I don't know anything is wrong. You don't have to wake me up for every student who comes to see you, but please tell me who they are and what was wrong in the morning. If they are hurt, you must wake me immediately, so I can take them to the infirmary. And since you aren't sleeping as much as you ought to, you should lie down whenever I do during the day. You will be working with potions ingredients, and being too sleepy is dangerous for you and everyone around you." Merlin! I'm sounding like the Headmaster when he's talking to me!
"Oh, you is the best master in the world!" Winky hugged him.
He tried to pretend that the gesture didn't make him feel better, but it didn't work. Severus felt silly to be so pleased by the compliment. "Now stop that," he said gently. "Lie down and try to sleep. With any luck Miss Walsh will be the only one tonight. I'm going back to bed, and I'll feel better knowing you're resting as well."
"Yes, Master Potions Master," she said, and promptly obeyed. "Oh, this is soft!" she squealed as soon as she lay down, then clapped her hand over her mouth. "Winky quiet now!" the elf whispered.
Snape nodded, then returned to bed. This time he closed his eyes, though he still felt oddly restless. Then he realized why. The first full moon of the school year was only a few weeks away. I will start the Wolfsbanenext weekend, he assured himself. In fact, I'll start two batches just to make sure one of them doesn't fail, and if both do well, donate the extra to St. Mungo's.
Once that was settled in his mind, he finally slept.
Harry Potter
He didn't have as much time as he thought to examine the pensieve between classes, Quidditch practice, and having a bit of fun. It felt good to be at Hogwarts without Umbridge or some other menace threatening him for a change. Even Malfoy was better-behaved than usual, while everyone whispered about the change in Snape. The Potions Master had posted a point schedule for discipline which applied to all students. Some of the items seemed like the old Snape, of course—"50 points and detention for any disaster that sends more than three students to the infirmary, and yes, Longbottom, I mean you" and "20 points deducted for essays in excess of three feet longer than the assignment, especially from know-it-all Gryffindors" were just a couple of them. Just seeing the faces of the Slytherins who were discovering life without blatant favoritism was worth it. Then again, some of the Ravenclaws had fussed over the essay requirement. Maybe Hermione wasn't the only one who believed in overkill.
There were ways to gain points, too. Harry decided to try a few to see if the greasy git really meant it. Cleaning up after class or volunteering for Saturday sessions wasn't in it, as his time was spoken for already, but he could earn five points every time he was on Longbottom watch for 'preventing another student from blowing up the place, though I have to see it'. He could also gain points every time he did a potion perfectly, though he doubted Snape would ever grade him that fairly after last year's incident. But if I keep doing it and everyone sees it, then I'll still win, because everyone will know he doesn't really mean to be fair.
He was quite surprised on the Wednesday of his second week when he actually did receive those points for a good Calming Potion. (Hermione had left his cauldron for cleaning till last, not being stupid herself, just in case Snape's hand 'slipped' again.) However, that was easy to rationalize. Well, he has to pretend to go along with this for now, Harry thought as everyone looked on in stunned surprise, especially Ron. I wonder how long it will last?
Harry didn't rejoice for long, though. Other teachers posted schedules as well, though without the entertaining remarks. In fact, Binns was the only professor who didn't post one. Well, only two people stayed awake in History of Magic anyway. Even Malfoy had been seen to struggle to keep his eyes open, while Hermione just did her homework.
Maybe McGonagall was right, and the point thing was out of control. Of course, Harry waited for the Headmaster to post how many points for defeating Voldemort, and the bonus on top for ridding the world of him permanently.
He was glad for Ron when his friend received his final Potions OWL results and was allowed to stay in the class, along with Luna. However, Ron's joy was brief as he also received points for guessing the class project correctly, but had to write three feet on other potions that the flower lupin was used for.
As the second week passed, Harry knew he had to find time for his investigation. He wasn't looking forward to playing Quidditch on Sunday against Ravenclaw right after his Occlumency lesson with Dumbledore. He'd be flying against Cho Chang, and would need all his concentration. Maybe it was just as well they weren't snogging each other now.
On that Friday, he volunteered to fetch ingredients for the class Potions project. Anything that would help Remus was worth some work. Besides, that kept Longbottom from signing up for it, and maybe picking the wrong things out of the supply cabinet. As he had said to Luna, it was her, Padma, Hermione, Malfoy and, Harry thought, Zabini who formed the brain part of the group. Neville's handwriting was put to good use starting up the journal. As long as he didn't have to actually brew, he was usually all right.
Harry was surprised to be partnered with Bulstrode in managing the supplies and ingredients, but it worked out better than he thought. They were told to fetch everything without magic, to get used to potions where even simple levitation affected things. With her greater height and longer reach, she went after the things on the high shelves while he was in charge of the lower ones. He reminded himself to be on his best behavior, especially since the Slytherins were so uncharacteristically decent this year.
What with practice and another afternoon team homework session, he didn't get much chance to look at his pensieve till late Saturday night. He walked into the bedroom planning to get ready for bed and have a go at it, when he saw his best friend holding the ceramic dish.
"Ron!" he shouted, taking the pensieve into his own hands before the other Gryffindor could drop it. "Get out of there!" He'd told his friends everything, and this was his reward!
"Oh," Ron said, blinking and staring down at his empty hands. "Didn't mean any harm, mate, just having a peek. Mum was a looker before all of us happened, wasn't she?"
"But that's mine!" Harry said. "You can see your family whenever you want! Don't you understand what this means to me?" He held the pensieve to his chest. Just as well he hadn't put any of his own memories in it yet.
Oh, crap, he thought. He sat down on the bed and set the pensieve down on his night-table. "No wonder Snape had such a huge fit."
"I didn't mean to get you mad like this," Ron said, as he sat down on his own bed just across from Harry's. "What do you mean about Snape?"
"I didn't tell you about this," Harry said, "but last year when I was taking those extra lessons with him I looked into his pensieve and saw some really rotten stuff."
"Oi! Surprised you weren't struck blind! What'd you catch him at, anyway? Something, gory, I hope."
"He wasn't doing anything wrong. Dad and his friends were doing nasty things to him. It was awful, Ron. I never knew the Marauders were like that. It wasn't just Sirius, it was my dad, too. Mum tried to stop it, but back then they weren't in love or anything, and Dad threatened to hex her. Then Snape called her a Mudblood, she went off, and Dad told everyone who was watching, "Let's see what—" Harry stopped abruptly. If Ron heard the nickname, he'd promise not to use it, but he would anyway. "Anyway, that's when Snape pulled me out of the memory. He probably thought I was going to go straight to the Gryffindor common room and have a good laugh over it."
"I wish you had," Ron said, and sighed dramatically.
"You heard what Professor McGonagall said at the beginning of the year."
Ron snorted. "Knowing him, he probably hexed them six ways from Sunday every chance he got."
"That's what I thought too, till I talked to Sirius and Remus about it. They never said Snape did stuff to them, just that they were bored. In what I saw, Snape did hex back…but Ron, it was four on one. I've done worse than he did to Malfoy, but at least he always has his friends around. Even Remus said he tried to talk to Dad about it some of the time, but from what I saw he only tried to pretend nothing was happening and didn't stop anything. They were awfully quiet for a little while, but Sirius never said he was sorry about it, and I think he liked it when I reminded him about it."
"But why is Snape so foul to Lupin, then? I mean, I never tried to talk to Fred and George about anything last year either."
"Your brothers never ganged up on one person the way my dad and his friends did. And this was mean stuff, I mean not even Malfoy and his lot did any of this. And Snape never went after Sirius like that. Ok, he gloated a lot in the Shrieking Shack, but we put an end to that, didn't we? And we didn't care what happened to Montague even though Hermione tried to tell us we should. He could be dead. Snape could have died when he hit his head, or when Sirius pretended it was an accident when he let Snape hit his head again on the way back."
"So?" Ron said, but he didn't look as happy as before.
"If we're Gryffindors, we're supposed to be better than the Slytherins, aren't we?"
"Well, of course we are!" his friend said loyally. "You know the Headmaster thinks we are. He didn't fuss over stuff like that till this year, either."
"I know," Harry said unhappily. "Maybe he should have. When Snape woke up out there in the Forbidden Forest, he still brought us back to the infirmary."
"But he's a teacher," Ron said. "He's supposed to do stuff like that."
"That didn't stop us from attacking him," Harry said. "And he wasn't Padfoot's teacher. Sure, the Dementors were gone then, but they could have come back once he'd taken us away. All he would have had to do would be to tie Sirius up and leave him there for bait. Lupin was out there as a wolf, too, even though he was supposed to take his potion. He was a teacher, too, and is again this year. Umbridge was a teacher, and so was Lockhart, and look what they did."
"Hey, slow down there! You're usually the first one to wish out loud the greasy git would get eaten by a lethifold and improve the world with his absence."
"I know. But you were there, too. Nobody bumped your head on the ceiling when you were moved out of the Shack or even knocked your leg around."
Ron nodded slowly. "I do remember it. Lupin bent over to make sure Snape was still alive, though, you have to give him that."
"But he didn't say anything when Sirius played his little game with the Mobilicorpus. Imagine what Hermione would have done to one of us if we'd pulled that."
"Maybe that's why she rammed all the first aid stuff down our throats," Ron said. His face was sober now. "But why are you getting so upset over it, Harry? You don't do anything like that."
"Because everyone told me how great Dad was. Because I still love Sirius anyway. I don't want to hate what they did or feel sorry for Snape, but…but Ron, I know what it's like to be by myself like that. Nobody stopped Duds or his friends when they played Harry-hunting. What if I never met you or Hermione here, and everyone hated me? I might be like Snape, too."
His friend snorted with laughter. "Not hardly! Besides, the Headmaster looks after you, so even if we didn't care, you'd be all right."
The Headmaster sure didn't look after Snape, Harry thought. Not if what McGonagall says is true. If I wasn't the Boy-Who-Lived, maybe he'd pay as little attention to me as he does to Longbottom. "I just don't want us to act like Slytherins, even if the Headmaster doesn't care. We have to care, or it doesn't count." He looked down at the pensieve with growing dismay. Harry had a horrible idea who had given it to him now. "But this still doesn't make sense. I know Snape hates my guts. He always has. Why is he different now?"
"Maybe he got in trouble for yelling at you?"
"But why now? Why not years ago when I first started here?" Harry was frustrated when he didn't understand things. Of course, that was nothing new. People hid stuff from him all the time and he was sick of it.
"Well, if you think he'll tell you, go ask him. Snape, I mean. Even I know better than to ask Dumbledore too many questions!" Ron said with a smile.
"Easy for you to say! I don't fancy another jar of cockroaches chucked my way."
"How else are you going to find out? I don't have any Extendible Ears, but Fred and George will give me a couple the next time we go into Hogsmeade."
"I dunno. He'd probably chop them up for potions ingredients."
His friend laughed. "You're probably right."
"I'll do Hermione's test on the memories tonight," Harry said. "I think I know who gave this to me now."
Ron bit his lip. Then his eyes went wide. "You have to be joking. Those things cost the earth. On top of that, I didn't think the git had any happy memories."
"Yeah, I know," Harry said glumly. "Sorry I yelled at you. But sometimes I wish I had a family like yours, even with the fights some of the time."
"You know you're part of it," Ron said. "Mum says so, and that's good enough for us."
"Yeah." Harry liked that. Even so, the Weasleys weren't really his. Some days he felt like nothing was, that everything he had was only borrowed. A lifetime of Dudley's rejects…
Ron went to bed and fell asleep quickly, judging by the snoring. Seamus and Dean were still out, probably getting into trouble. Harry pulled the curtains around his bed, in case they came in, and started examining the memories. He carried a mental list from the wedding. Snape was in that one, of course.
And Snape was also in the library where Lily Evans studied. In the Potions classroom. At the Quidditch game. Back against the trees by Hagrid's hut. In the hallway between classes. In Transfiguration, turning a needle into a hedgehog and back again.
No matter how hard Harry looked, he couldn't find a memory inside the pensieve that didn't have Snape in it.
At last he gave up. Hermione had been right. He'd seen different combinations of one to four Marauders, and his mum, but no matter who else was there, Snape was always somehow there as well, usually trying hard not to be seen. How can I blame him? Harry thought. He remembered his favorite hiding spots on the playground at the other school, spots that Duds and his friends usually found anyway.
He couldn't come up with any reason that made sense why he'd received the pensieve and the memories in it, either. I can't blame the attack for changing Snape. My birthday was before it happened. Yeah, I was upset when I saw Ron snooping, and maybe the git wanted me to know what it felt like, but…that only explains the pensieve. It doesn't explain the memories in it.
Harry put the pensieve away. I don't have to do anything about this. Snape's saved my life several times already and no one's gone after me for not thanking him, not even the Headmaster. It's not like anyone here cares about him that much either. Dumbledore says he trusts him, but never stops anyone from doing anything to him.
But maybe that's wrong. He was upset at that. The Headmaster was always right about everything, wasn't he? McGonagall doesn't think so, or she wouldn't have talked to us the way she did about what happened when my dad and his friends were around. But why didn't she do anything about them either? Hagrid didn't look happy about what happened to Snape, but he never says anything against Dumbledore. In fact, nobody does.
Then he remembered last summer. Aunt Petunia never says anything against Uncle Vernon either, but she put me and Dudley in the boxing class. She watched the Olympics with us and chatted him up whenever he looked funny at me, and made him drink that weird herb tea instead of the whiskey.
Harry was frightened. If he couldn't trust the Headmaster, he couldn't trust anybody. But if he and his friends didn't change, pretty soon people would talk about Gryffindor the same way they did about Slytherin now. Dumbledore couldn't be here forever, either—maybe people would say how they really felt only when he was gone. He could be wrong about the old wizard, too. There was probably a lot of stuff nobody told him about Snape. Maybe the git deserved being treated the way he was.
He put away the pensieve and lay down, his thoughts whirling. I can't go into the Occlumency lesson tomorrow feeling like this. He wouldn't be able to stand it if the old wizard got angry with him the way Uncle Vernon or Snape did.
Then again, he still needs me to kill Voldemort for him. Maybe he needs me enough to help me find the truth.