AN: I hope you all will like the new chapter! I love each and every one of your reviews!
oooOOooo
New Place
When Harry regained some measure of consciousness, the first thing he noticed was the thick fog in his brain, slowing down his ability to think, making his thoughts sluggish. The next was the pain he felt in several parts of his body. When he tried to move – feebly at best – he couldn't. Maybe some form of restraint? Harry wasn't sure what exactly had happened, and his slow mind was of no help at all.
Next he noticed two people talking, standing close to his bed. A woman and a man, most likely. At first he couldn't understand what they were talking about, but they sounded like they didn't like each other. There was a frosty undertone to their conversation.
Floating between waking and sleeping, Harry listened, content not to struggle to come to full consciousness, he didn't want to face whatever was waiting for him. From the reason he felt like a train had hit him to whatever might have caused it, there was no wish to see it right now. Resting sounded like a really good idea.
"What were your actions until now?" the male voice asked with a distant politeness.
"He has a concussion, so I didn't dare risk a sleeping- or pain-relief potion. Skele-Gro is necessary with this extensive number of fractures, but as he takes potions regularly to supplement his intake of nutrients, and to heal long-lasting damage, I only immobilized the injured parts and waited for you, Healer Greengrass," answered the female voice, obviously annoyed that she had to speak with the other.
The man hummed, parchment rustled. "The potions Heir Slytherin-Potter has to take have no adverse reactions to being combined with Skele-Gro. There is no need to keep delaying the healing of that many broken bones. Thank you, Madame Pomfrey, for the excellent care you show our patient." He sounded not as distant as the woman, but reserved.
"Will you tell me why Mr. Slytherin has to take those potions? I know what they are typically used for, but I feel the need to know for sure." She had a quiet intensity in her voice. It was really important to her to get the answer to that question.
There was a sigh. "I will need the permission of my patient and his guardian, and your vow not to tell anyone. But when my patient's guardian doesn't agree, I will not be able to tell you anything." The man was almost whispering now, while Harry still was floating on a nice cloud of carelessness.
There was some rustling of clothes, the clinking of glass against glass, and then the murmured words of some spell. A few heartbeats later, Harry felt himself moving away from the waking world, closer to dreams and sleep. Maybe he had been given some potions, but all in all he didn't really care, whatever had happened had brought him to the hospital wing, both his healer and the Hogwarts medi-witch were here. He was safe and cared for. He could sleep and let them deal with the problems.
His last thought before sleep claimed him was that Madame Pomfrey was really good at chasing people away who would bother her patients. She would keep them all away.
ooOoo
On the other side of the room, well away from the beds and the space the healers would need to do their work, there stood a small group of people. The Headmaster looked grave, as was proper for such a situation, Professor McGonagall as Henry's Head of House, and Professor Severus Snape, as Marvolo had insisted the man stay. At the moment, Marvolo was seconds away from starting to pace in agitation. The Headmaster was infuriating as usual. Or maybe even more so.
"I want Aurors to come here and check the cause for my son's fall down the stairs," the dark-haired wizard almost growled. Why the Headmaster was this stubborn about it was almost inconceivable. Why the man insisted on being so contrary made no sense to Marvolo. All he achieved by his actions was pushing away his allies. Or at least it looked that way when he considered the face Minerva McGonagall made.
"I don't think it is necessary to involve the Ministry in this, Tom. Everyone stumbles from time to time. Just last week I almost tripped over my own robes on the way down from my rooms to the office." Luckily the old man didn't smile when he told this anecdote, so Marvolo managed to keep the fury and anger caused by his worry – however hard it might be to admit this even in his own head – and just clenched his fists at his sides.
"Don't be so stubborn, Albus," the Head of Gryffindor scoffed at the Headmaster, before she turned to face Marvolo. "I made certain no students would come near the likely place the fall down the stairs started. If it was an accident, the Aurors could prove it without a doubt. And if it wasn't, we would know as well. If we don't call them, there are grounds for doubt, considering all that has happened so far this year."
A debate started between the Headmaster and his Deputy, arguing back and forth, going in circles. Dark blue eyes – Marvolo had remembered to glamour his eyes just in time on their way up to the castle – met dark ones and from one moment to the other there was a familiar presence at the front of his mind. Marvolo saw pages being flipped over in something like a fast-forward replay. Then the flipping stopped and Marvolo got a good look at what was a page in the handbook on the currently valid and most-used Hogwarts bylaws. The page detailed the rights a parent had. Asking for neutral investigation of an accident that had happened on school grounds was one of them.
Sending an image of an approving nod back into his Potions Master's mind, Marvolo prepared to interrupt the heated but useless discussion.
Out of the corner of his eyes he noticed that Malcolm and the school's medi-witch were still standing next to Henry's bed. To distract himself from what was happening there, he turned to the still-ongoing discussion. He could wait for hours for a lull in that particular conversation. The Headmaster maintained the point that it had been an accident and to bring Aurors into the school again would stir up unrest, harming the students. The Deputy-Headmistress insisted that not calling someone to prove beyond doubt would cause worry and rumours to run rampant.
"It is a moot point, what you are discussing, Headmaster, Professor. I insist that a neutral party come here and make sure my son has not been attacked for a third time. I will not budge in this. I propose that we ask Madame Bones to select a team and head the investigation." He really wanted this investigation to start. It seemed like his point had been made, as the Headmaster nodded in the direction of the only witch in their group, sending her off to inform the requested party of what was happening at Hogwarts.
Paying neither man still standing just inside the infirmary any attention, Marvolo moved over to the bed his son was lying in. He was a horrifying sight. His arms and legs were in braces, and a sort of collar held his neck immobile. Bruises were starting to form. If the boy had any less luck, Henry could have died in this fall. A third time… having another human – mortal – being needed for his plans was hard to bear.
A chair floated over and he sat down, both the witch and the wizard turning to him.
Giving the wizard seniority – the medi-witch was older, but the Healer was of greater medical authority – Madame Pomfrey stepped back as the younger Healer started to talk. "A concussion, broken wrists as well as ulna and radius in both arms, several bruised and cracked ribs, bruises in several places on his body, sprained ankle, and a broken fibula. He will recover, but it will take time. At the moment your son is sleeping, Lord Slytherin. It will be some time before he regains consciousness."
"Thank you, both of you. I will be staying here."
It didn't take long for Marvolo to be alone with his son, contemplating what he might say to get the boy to ask for a re-sorting. He was absolutely sure that this wasn't the result of an accident.
oooOOooo
John trailed behind Madame Bones on the path up to the castle from the gates. Shacklebolt was walking at his side. They both had donned their warmer crimson robes, as it looked like it would start to snow soon so far up north. Their boss – or rather, the boss of their boss in the Ministry – had been furious when the message from Hogwarts had reached her.
It seemed this year was one for serious cases. Very different from their usual fare of thefts, drunken brawls, fighting between family members… tattling on someone who might have some forbidden dark artefacts or books in his or her possession usually was the most serious their cases got.
Dementors set on children, torture of children, and two murder attempts were a real deviation from the norm.
"What do you think, Shacklebolt? Accident or murder attempt?" A cold burst of wind tore at their robes, and John saw his partner cast a new warming charm on his robes.
"I think we shouldn't make any premature assumptions about what happened. But we might speculate about the reason we've been placed on the same case. Again," was the dry response of the dark-skinned man walking beside him.
With a nod, John conceded the point. It would predispose them to interpret what they saw in a certain way. So he turned to the other question. Why were they placed together again?
"Maybe because we're good working together? I guess we would have to ask Scrimgeour to know for sure."
"Probably." They walked the rest of the way in silence, both deep in thought. John thought about the problem of their prolonged partnership, for the both of them. He was fairly sure that no one knew he was a Death Eater. He had never been named, because he had been a pretty new recruit at the end of the last war. And he was equally sure that their superiors didn't know of the likely association of Shacklebolt with the Order of the Phoenix. But their different political leanings were known, and their obvious success in the last – difficult – investigation they had conducted together could have sparked an idea. Maybe they were working so well together because they complemented each other? If someone wanted to use that, it was likely they would be placed on many cases as a team.
ooOoo
Fred and George were sitting on the bottom step of the stairway up to the boys' dorms. They were making sure that not one of the other Gryffindors would walk up to the place where Harry had faltered in his stride and fallen down the stairs.
The normally easygoing and cheery red-headed teenagers now looked rather foreboding and grim. Harry was like another younger brother to them, had given them the money they had needed to pursue their chosen profession. Without his help they wouldn't have been able to start on the serious development of their products.
The first pranks had been funny, if a little too focused on just one person. But funny. The laxative had been poorly executed. Either it had been a careless prank, or a sloppy attempt at murder. Everything after that had been horrible.
They felt the need to make sure to remove those that had caused all this from Gryffindor. Those actions were against everything the proud House of Lions stood for.
The room was filled with students. The girls had fetched homework and textbooks from their rooms. They had even managed to get dressed. The boys were still in whatever they had been wearing to bed. It was a sight to behold. If the atmosphere had been less tense, it might have been a lovely Sunday morning.
The portrait opened, and Professor McGonagall climbed through the hole, followed by a woman with short grey hair, and a pair of Aurors. "Attention! After the Aurors have inspected the scene, you all will be able to return to your dorms. I'm happy to inform you that Mr. Slytherin will be back in classes soon. Messrs Weasley, Madame Bones wants to speak with you. As you are of age, you may speak with her alone, but if you want me to be present, I will, of course, stay."
Fred looked over to his brother and saw that his twin had come to the same conclusion. There was no need to ask for the Professor to stay. "Thank you, Professor, but we can speak with Madame Bones without your presence."
The two Aurors went up the stairs, while the twin pranksters spoke to the Head of Magical Law Enforcement. They recounted the few facts they knew, talking about the party of the evening before and when it had ended.
It wasn't long until they had finished their account and the two Aurors came back down. The one man, his dark skin contrasting nicely with his robes, turned to the twins. "Can you tell me who can get past the wards at the top of the stairs and what's behind them?"
"Sure, Auror, those are the wards protecting the room Harry sleeps in. He's set the wards to only let friends get past them. I think the staff and prefects can get through, too."
A few others – Ron and Hermione, Neville, Colin, and Ginny – were hovering nearby, clearly eavesdropping on the conversation. The whole room was silent, not something that happened often. But it was the reason that not only those nearest were able to hear the short report the Aurors gave to the Head of the DMLE.
"We think that we found the fraying remains of a simple tripping jinx that was set near the last step that can be reached without crossing the wards. But it was a simple one, once tripped, it is prone to vanish in a short time. No way to tell who cast it," the shorter of the two Aurors, the one with brown hair and light skin, said with a helpless shrug.
"So we will need to interrogate all the Gryffindors?" Madame Bones rubbed her hand over her eyes. It was an enormous task.
ooOoo
From the sidelines of the circular common room up in Gryffindor Tower, a girl looked on, conflicted. It seemed quite possible that she could get away with almost killing that slimey snake of a traitor. Because if she didn't tell, not even a priori incantatem would reveal that she had been the one to set up that simple tripping jinx – with its helpful warning not to use it where people could fall down a ledge or something – because she had used a lumos to get back to her bed right after setting it.
But if no one found out, then she wouldn't get the credit for her clever plan. Cormac wouldn't get to know, her darling would be oblivious of the lengths she'd gone through to avenge him.
Getting away with it would be fantastic, but she wanted Cormac to know what she was willing to do for him.
So she watched the Aurors and Madame Bones talking, probably planning what to do next, the students sitting around aimlessly, watching.
"Are you okay, Julie?" one of her friends asked, sitting down in a sagging crimson chair next to her. "You look like you didn't sleep too well."
Without a glance at the other girl, all too often vanishing in the background just like herself and the others in their year, Julie got up from her chair, shoving a few first-years out of the way, walking on the most straight line towards the Ministry employees.
"Julie!" the call of her friend was full of worry and concern, but Julie didn't listen. She was sure of what she would do. She wanted to let Cormac know what had happened, wanted them all to know how that traitorous snake had ruined her life. With each step, her determination grew, her face flushed in her anger, her steps got more forceful.
"I had hoped that the traitor would die! That we would be rid of him!" she screeched, her face contorted into an ugly grimace. "But, nooo! He ruins Cormac's life, ruins mine, but he will live a happy life! With money, fame, prestige!" She started to punch the nearest Auror, wand forgotten in the pocket of the robe she preferred on Sundays. "He ruins everything! Why can't he just vanish?!" Wracked with hysterical sobs, her hands fisted into the heavy robes of the Auror, Julie Parkes sank down to her knees, spent.
With short concerned looks between the Ministry personnel, the young girl was hoisted up between the two men, while Professor McGonagall escorted Madame Bones up to the girl's dorm to search for further evidence.
oooOOooo
After a small meal at the bedside of his son, Marvolo listened to the report John Dawlish was giving him, while Severus was standing to the side, representing the school in all of this. The Headmaster had tried to place Minerva there, as the boy's Head of House, but she had insisted on staying at the side of the girl confessing to setting the tripping jinx with the intention of killing Henry.
Filius Flitwick and Pomona Sprout were tasked with watching over the rest of the student population, so only the Head of Slytherin was available to watch over the injured student and the Auror investigating the incident on a parent's insistence.
"We aren't yet sure she actually did cause the fall of your son, Lord Slytherin. But it is quite possible that her confession is true. Madame Bones found letters from Cormac McLaggen that contained a lot of accusations aimed at your son." Only with great concentration had the wizard managed to not kneel, or stand at attention in Marvolo's presence, causing a bubble of amusement that quickly died again. While his son lay unconscious in a hospital bed there wasn't much that could hold his interest for long, or amuse him.
Marvolo stood, and started to pace. Sitting this long on a chair was taking its toll on his back. "So she set a trap for my son in an attempt to kill him. Encouraged by her boyfriend? Maybe a desire to make Henry pay for perceived wrongs?" He sighed and rubbed his eyes. "So the boy gets away with his attack because he claims the Death of Cedric Diggory – his supposed friend – has shaken him so badly that he blames Henry for it, reacting with pranks that got out of hand. The others claim that they were influenced by McLaggen… Thank you, John, please keep me informed." It had been so much easier when he could send a death squad after those that had infuriated him.
With a small bow from the neck, the Auror and Death Eater retreated from the infirmary, leaving behind the Dark Lord and the Head of Slytherin House.
Silence fell over the room until Marvolo started to speak about a thought that was on his mind, since he had heard that a girl – the girlfriend of the original attacker – had caused the latest incident. "It is remarkable what love for another can make humans do." Stopping before one of the windows, looking out over the grounds getting darker by the minute, Marvolo spoke in a contemplative tone. "You changed your alliance during a war. It caused Henry's mother to step between a murderer and her son. And now a girl throws away her entire future to gain the approval of another teenager, who probably will forget her soon. I can't claim to understand, really understand, why love has these consequences… Be prepared for the eventual re-sorting of my son. As soon as he regains consciousness, I will urge him to ask for it."
As always, the Potions Master picked up on the dismissal without problems. Intelligent followers were preferable to pure muscle. They didn't need as much guidance. But they did need a little more supervision, as they were prone to having their own goals.
Now alone again, Marvolo walked a few more steps, before he settled into his chair again, preparing to wait some more. Maybe he should ask Xerxes to take over communication with the media – especially that vicious Miss Skeeter – as he was aware he was letting his duties slide by staying with his son. Or maybe he should say, letting his other duties slide, because staying with his injured son after another attempt at murder was one of his duties, too.
ooOoo
"You think I should ask to be re-sorted?" Harry asked from his bed, opening his eyes tiredly. He watched as Marvolo settled more comfortably into the chair by his bedside before turning blue eyes to the teen.
It was a little unsettling to see those blue eyes in the familiar face. Whenever they talked over the mirror in the evening, Marvolo let his eyes stay as they were, red as rubies, and to see them glamoured now was not something he was used to.
Marvolo nodded. "I think you should. But my opinion is not the deciding one." The look the man sent the teen sitting up in bed was a pointed one. "What do you think you should do?" Harry huffed, and frowned down at his hands, still in splints so he wouldn't move the complicated fractures until they were healed.
"I'm not sure. I felt safe again with the new room. The constant pranks had to stop and they did. But now…" he trailed off. Now it was all too clear that there might still be people in his House who would attack him. The past hadn't painted the best picture of their loyalty to a House member, or their tolerance towards a Slytherin – regardless if it was one by family name or sorting – so it was a real possibility that the atmosphere would remain tense for the rest of this year and the next two.
But would re-sorting into another House change that? Or would he be placed in Gryffindor again? Probably not. He had asked to not be sorted into Slytherin the first time, and the Hat had listened, to assume that the Hat would listen again wasn't that much of a stretch.
Harry sighed, propped up on his pillow, he felt vulnerable. He felt as if the decision had already been made. "But would it be better anywhere else?"
"I think that you would be safer. Slytherin would respect you, if maybe only for your name and connection to me. Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw are much less inclined to oppose someone simply because their family is associated with Slytherin. The Headmaster has concentrated his efforts to gain allies against Voldemort on Gryffindor House. Consequently, families sorting regularly into the House of Lions suffered greatly during the war." The older wizard spoke in soft tones, his hands resting folded in his lap, one leg thrown over the other, a picture of calm and poise.
"So you think I should ask for a re-sort. And what would you say if I was sorted into Hufflepuff?" Some time into the regular mirror calls, Harry had started to use 'sir' less and less often. And ignoring the rule established during their very first meeting, Marvolo hadn't insisted on the use of the address.
Now the man shrugged, smiling slightly. "Hufflepuff lays emphasis on hard work and loyalty. Both are characteristics that someone can be proud of." Both of them knew of the negative prejudice most people held for Hufflepuff. The House of those fitting nowhere else, of the dregs of society.
It was probably a parent thing to say kind things to nervous kids. However old they might be. "And your real thoughts on this?" Harry was sceptical that Marvolo had told the truth.
"That is my real opinion on Hufflepuff. I had a few followers who had been in Hufflepuff. I only ever had real problems recruiting Gryffindors. So there are children of my people in all the Houses but Gryffindor. They could influence the situation in your favour."
The rest of the time Marvolo could stay he spent telling Harry of his travels just after school, while he had been working in a shop situated on Knockturn Alley. Borgin and Burkes. A place selling and buying old and questionable objects, more often than not things the Ministry would call dark. Visiting places to acquire such objects, investigating their value. It was an interesting way to pass the time until Madame Pomfrey brought a small bowl of broth for Harry's dinner.
With the promise to be back the next morning, Marvolo reluctantly left.
Harry endured being spoon-fed, happy that his guardian was not there to watch, and then settled down, waiting for his friends to show up.
ooOoo
Hermione looked around the infirmary as she and Ron walked through the door. They wanted to talk to their friend, and had been told he was awake, so they had made their way up straight after dinner.
Once the two of them walked around the screen surrounding the bed, seeing a chair near the bed, they spotted Harry and more or less successfully suppressed gasps. Harry looked horrible. With the purple bruising on his face, the casts on his arms, and the white sheets, he looked so small in his bed.
Green eyes opened, and the injured teenager flashed them a tired smile. "Hello, Hermione, Ron! Come, sit, and tell me everything. I haven't had many visitors."
"Not even… Lord Slytherin?" Ron faltered before he could decide what name to use for Harry's guardian. He blushed because it was obvious both of his friends had noticed his indecision.
Hermione went to get a second chair to sit on, and only got to listen to Harry's response to that question. "He was here. For quite some time, too. But besides him and Madame Pomfrey, I haven't seen anyone. And they couldn't tell me what I want to know anyway." Hermione levitated the chair she had found, seizing the opportunity to practice. "So. What's the talk in the common room?"
In logical order Hermione started to recount the rumours and happenings from the common room, generously embellished by Ron. Harry nodded along, trying to distract himself from the growing pain in his broken bones by listening to the tale. It filled in some of the holes, but Harry had to concede that, barring the rumours, he had already known the facts.
"So the speculations over a possible re-sort are overflowing again," Hermione concluded her report. "Is the option on the table?"
Harry nodded cautiously, making a grimace at the twinge in his chest. "Yeah, my guardian said he wishes for me to ask for a re-sort. Explained that he thinks the other Houses would be safer for me." Wiggling his nose, as it was itching and he couldn't scratch it, Harry searched for the words that would explain to his oldest friends his stance on the whole re-sorting thing. He could see that Ron was fighting with himself, probably to not blurt out the first things that came to mind. "You've seen what the others think of a Slytherin in Gryffindor. Even if it is only by adoption… the atmosphere just isn't right anymore." Harry turned his eyes to the red-faced wizard standing next to their bushy-haired friend. "The rest of this year, two years more, with new first-years coming in... I feel like I won't have a safe place in the tower for the rest of the time we'll be in school here." He sighed. It was clear that Ron wasn't happy with the idea of Harry's being placed in a different House. But he couldn't say anything to dispute the problems Harry had laid out, however much he wanted to, it simply was the truth.
"If you can't feel safe any longer, Harry. I think it is best to let the Hat put you somewhere else. But you are aware that there will be a lot of fuss about something like this?" Hermione was once again the voice of reason.
"Yes, Hermione, I know. But I'm sure that it can only get better, because the rivalry isn't as bad between the other two Houses and Slytherin… So… I can count on you staying my friends? Because that is the only point keeping me back. I don't want to lose you."
With reassuring words and nods – Ron's not as convincing as Hermione's – his two friends said goodbye as Madame Pomfrey decided it was time for them to leave.
Once the Matron was alone with her patient she came over to Harry's bed, a phial filled with potion in her hand. "You will take this pain-relief potion, and then you will sleep. I should be able to let you go back to your lessons sometime tomorrow. At the latest, you should be able to leave before dinner. Bottoms up!"
She held the phial up to Harry's mouth – as he was unable to hold it himself – so the teenager could drink down the potion. After that she helped her patient to settle somewhat comfortably under the covers, before she left to let him sleep.
Tomorrow would be an interesting day. And that was one of the few certain things remaining.
oooOOooo
Dust covered every horizontal surface and quite a few of the walls in the entryway of the old house Severus was contemplating – not for the first time – selling. But as the neighbourhood only got worse with time, the prices for land and houses were steadily declining. Not a good time to sell.
But today he wasn't here to contemplate the meagre belongings his father had managed to gain and leave for his son. No, he was here to have a look at the things his mother had stored in the cellar one afternoon while her husband had been out drinking with his friends.
He was reasonably sure that the trunk and boxes held the information he needed. Information on the requirements to claim the Prince seat on the Wizengamot. As far as Severus knew, there still was an old manor somewhere, and some valuables in a vault. And the Prince family had been small for the last several generations. He probably was the most eligible descendant of the family for the Lordship. At least concerning the most direct and shortest line descending from an actual member of the core family. Severus' mother had been a Prince, even when all contact between her and the family had stopped once she had married Tobias Snape.
Severus walked down the stairs into the darkness of the shallow cellar, reeking of mildew, damp earth, and stale air. He cast a lumos and started to pick his way through the room between old cardboard boxes and furniture.
After some time – and much suppressed cussing – Severus found the trunk he was searching for under a moth-eaten, faded blanket. For a moment the young wizard pondered the best way to proceed from here. There wasn't much room to move down here. Bent almost in two to avoid bumping his head, Severus cast a spell on one of the broken chairs standing about, causing it to glow. With his wand now no longer occupied with a lumos, he could use it to levitate the clutter standing all around to make a way from the place where the trunk sat to the door. Before he would sit here in the cellar to go through the documents, hell would freeze over.
Levitating the trunk out of the cellar was no easy task, and once the old and battered trunk touched down on the faded, threadbare carpet, Severus made himself a cup of coffee, washing the stale taste from his mouth.
After a good stretch – bending in two was not good for his back – he sat down on the floor and opened the trunk. It was filled to the brim with books, letters, unbound parchment, wizarding photographs, as well as different knick-knacks. Sighing, Severus braced himself for long hours of searching through years of repressed memories and attempts at communication.
Some hours later – in the early hours of Monday – the living room was covered with several stacks of books, letters, and parchment. But the really important bits of information Severus had taken into the kitchen, placing them on the rickety table by the window. It was still dark outside, and the flickering street lamp wasn't able to cast a steady light on the overgrown front garden.
Taking sips from his honey-sweetened hot drink, Severus organized the information he had found. One was a letter from his grandparents, whom he had never met, writing to his mother after Severus had started at Hogwarts, telling her that they had made him the heir. Sadly, his mother had made no comments on this and obviously hadn't accepted the offer for money. If she had done, he certainly wouldn't have had to get everything second-hand. There were several letters from later dates, commenting on accomplishments Severus had made in school, making the Potions Master wonder why they never wrote to him directly. Had his mother placed an owl redirection ward on him? It was unlikely, as she only very seldom used magic once her husband had lost his composure, starting with the violence. Many of the letters had still been sealed, so his mother probably had simply ignored them. Severus had long since assumed that he had inherited his pride and stubbornness from his mother, now he was certain that he was right.
Among the letters was a small book, detailing what Lord Prince had to do, family values, and an accounting of old family assets and alliances. But the most interesting at the moment was a text detailing all conditions an heir needed to match before he was able to claim the title.
Now he sat there in the old kitchen of his childhood, a list of requirements on parchment on the table in front of him. It was a little disconcerting how well he matched the description he had gathered from the pages of the book. In age, over thirty. He had worked for over a decade in a respectable position that was not estate management. He was healthy and able to father a child. All in all, it seemed like a really short list. What did he know about the customs? About the family traditions? About really anything that mattered? But the Dark Lord had been quite clear, and the prospect of having influence, direct influence, on decisions of the Wizengamot… It was something to consider.
In the past, he would have struggled with this alone. He had never had anyone close in the Order, mostly because as a spy he had been hidden for too long to be trusted. And among Death Eaters there mostly was a kill-or-be-killed mentality. That might change in the future, but at the moment he had a person to speak to who would be equally affected by any choice he made in this. Gathering the pertinent information into a small improvised satchel, Severus cleaned up the living room with a swish of his wand, simply dumping all the other things back into the trunk, before he made his way out of the house.
ooOoo
Sonja just was taking the money from an elderly witch – who was constantly complaining about the rise in the costs for dried dragon dung – when Severus came into the Apothecary, looking around as if he were searching for someone or something.
As their eyes met, he smiled and walked over to the counter, aptly sidestepping the few early-morning patrons. She nodded in the direction of the entrance to the offices at the back, signalling him that she wanted to meet him there. His nod was confirmation enough, and a quiet word to one of the helpers made sure that the counter and shop wouldn't be empty while she was gone.
"Severus," she greeted him with a smile and a small frown. "You look like you haven't had an hour's sleep tonight."
They exchanged a kiss, and her wizard smiled a little tiredly. "That is because I haven't slept all night, nor much at all this weekend. I know that's hardly ideal. I will take an energizer before I start teaching today, and I will go to bed early." It felt silly to reassure her in this manner, but at the same time it felt wonderful to have someone worrying about his sleep – or lack thereof. "I wanted you to read this," he handed her the small bundle from inside his warm robes, "and tell me what you think about it. I'll be back after dinner?"
With an exasperated sigh, Sonja accepted the bundle, and then gave him another quick peck on the lips. "I'll have a look and will see you tonight. But you need a good night's sleep, Severus." Thinking back to what had been in the Prophet this morning, she was aware that it was unlikely for him to find true rest for some time, so she simply gave him another kiss and a little shove. "You shouldn't be late, love. It feels like you'll have much to do, with all that is happening."
He sighed and enveloped her in a strong hug before he stepped back. "Too true, Sonja. I will try to come by in the evening. Or send an owl, if I can't manage to visit."
"I would prefer you get a whole night of sleep, rather than you stressing out to come visit on a Monday evening." He accepted her prioritising with a nod before they parted with another kiss.
oooOOooo
As promised the day before, Madame Pomfrey released Harry from the hospital wing on Monday morning. In time for breakfast and all lessons of the day.
On his way down to the Great Hall – It was fantastic how magic was able to heal injuries – he walked slowly as Marvolo came up the stairs. "Henry, I'm glad to see you out of bed."
Harry nodded. "I'm glad to be out of bed, too. Why are you here, sir?"
"I said I would be here, didn't I?" Marvolo asked, turning with swinging robes so he was walking in the same direction as Harry.
"That you did, sir. Will you stay for breakfast?"
"Why not? It has been years since I last ate at one of the tables. And I don't recall ever eating at the Gryffindor table." His eyes were crinkled in amusement, and Harry was unsure if he wanted to laugh or to cry. The man once known as Lord Voldemort would eat breakfast between students at the Gryffindor table in the Great Hall. It seemed like his life was doing everything to avoid getting boring.
The moment they set foot into the Hall, Harry realised that the rumours would grow to new heights because Marvolo had come here to eat.
It was a nice breakfast. The other students kept their distance while Marvolo and Harry talked about their plans for the upcoming holidays. There were a number of balls and festivities to attend. The school Xerxes Lestrange had founded this year was having a festival with songs, a play, snacks, and a small arts and crafts market. Harry was glad they would visit the school – that sounded like fun – but wished he could get around attending so many other parties.
When it was time to go to the first class, Marvolo said goodbye and vanished from the Great Hall and the school grounds without speaking with any of the staff.
ooOoo
Before Potions Theo walked over to Harry where he stood by his friends Granger and Weasley, clearly separated from the rest of the Gryffindors. "Harry, there are thousands of rumours running wild. What happened?" Sadly the matron had barred entrance for all students from the infirmary on Sunday, so only his two closest friends and his guardian had been allowed to visit.
"I fell," was the deadpan answer, forcing Theo to contain a laugh. That the heir of Slytherin was a true Gryffindor was just too good to be true.
"Remind me to tell you a few of my favourite variants." He gave his summer guest a friendly pat on the shoulder. "I'm just glad that nothing too serious happened."
Draco and the others had badgered him to ask if the rumour that he would ask to be re-sorted was true. Vince and Gregory wanted to know if it was true that the girl had ambushed him from behind. But Theo had convinced them all that it would be idiotic to ask such things between classes in the corridors. Would one of them answer such questions in such a setting?
And neither would the Dark Lord's son, adopted or not, Harry had more than a few Slytherin qualities. Theo was sure of that. And he would bet his monthly stash of sweets on the re-sorting taking place sometime soon.
But not right now, as the door to the Potions laboratory opened and Professor Snape awaited them for their next double lesson of Potions.
oooOOooo
The whole day Harry felt reminded of his first few weeks at Hogwarts. And all the other times when the whole student population had been pointing and whispering behind his back. But now he was older, and had some experience with ignoring the stuff. But it still irked him.
Very much.
Harry had a hard time concentrating on the lessons, or his homework, because he constantly was thinking about whether he wanted to ask for a re-sort or not. Staying in Gryffindor – even in his own room – had become almost impossible. Too often had his housemates pranked him, tried to kill him. Gryffindor had been his home, his family, just as Professor McGonagall had told them on their first evening here. Not everything always went fine with family. His life with the Dursleys had been ample proof of that. But just because the others were family, one didn't have to take everything they dished out.
Maybe it would be better to leave the family he had at the moment, and join another.
With a normal family, such a switch wasn't done easily, if at all, but with family of choice it was something that could be done.
Just before dinner Harry had made up his mind.
Hermione and Ron had watched him, talked to him, all through the day. But they had avoided touching on the subject they both wanted to talk about the most. Ron probably because he couldn't imagine Harry anywhere but in Gryffindor. And Hermione probably because she wanted to rehash all the arguments for or against a re-sorting until they were wrung out.
But apparently they both hadn't found the courage to start the conversation.
"Can I leave my bag with you?" Harry asked his two friends as they searched for seats near the middle of the Gryffindor table.
"Why?" Ron wanted to know, sitting down inelegantly on the other side.
"Because he wants to ask for… you know. Am I right?" She directed a challenging gaze at Harry, who nodded in her direction before he turned to face the head table.
Harry sighed. "It can't stay like this, Ron, Hermione. And regardless how I turn the problem, there's no solution. As long as I stay a Gryffindor, there will be problems. The house rivalries are not as bad between the other Houses and the family name Slytherin." Harry scoffed. It was so ridiculous, this separation along family names, and Houses.
Before he could change his mind – for the fourth or even fifth time this day – Harry walked up to where the Headmaster was sitting and spoke loudly, so that his voice carried quite a bit, causing the whole Hall to fall silent. "In the light of what has been happening to me here since the start of the year, I ask the Sorting Hat to re-evaluate my placement in Gryffindor. I no longer feel safe there."
Harry saw the moment the customary twinkle in the blue eyes over half-moon glasses vanished. But before the old man could start to speak, while he was in the motion of standing from his seat, the Sorting Hat suddenly landed on top of the table, as if it had been dropped from the ceiling.
"Someone asks to be re-sorted?" the Hat's booming voice asked into the Great Hall.
"Yes, I ask," Harry answered, standing tall. He felt eyes take him in, weigh him. Even though the Hat only had pits hinting at something like eyes, it was obvious that the Sorting Hat was assessing him and his request.
Harry's hands were getting wet. He was nervous. What if the Hat decided that he had no grounds to stand on and refused to re-evaluate his placement? He took a deep breath, falling with ease into one of the meditative breathing patterns he had learned from Snape.
"Very well! Not a question asked often. Place me on your head and I will see where you fit best now."
The Headmaster sat down again, and Professor McGonagall came to the front of the table, conjuring a stool for Harry to sit on.
With a nod from her stern face, Harry turned his back on the professors, facing the students to sit on the stool. The Hall was filled with curious students all looking at the Head table and what was happening there. They all were trying to find a spot from which they could see better what was about to happen.
Just before the Hat was placed on his head, Harry spotted Hermione smiling at him and Ron looking conflicted, sitting at the front of the Gryffindor table. They had changed places to be closer.
Then a voice sounded in his head. "Well Mr. Slytherin-Potter. Nice to meet you again." Harry could see – as the Hat no longer was so big that it fell to his nose – how everyone was watching attentively, not able to hear what the Hat was saying to Harry. "Yes, well, it doesn't happen often that I get to see a mind for a second time. Still a difficult case, I see. But now you wonder what might have been different if you hadn't objected against my first suggestion so adamantly? Well, we probably will never know what would have been different, but you can follow your new ambition now in..." and the last the Hat shouted out for all to hear "SLYTHERIN!"
Harry felt magic wash over his clothes, changing the colours from the red and gold of Gryffindor to the silver and green of Slytherin. He wasn't really sure this was the best course of action. But he hadn't been a Gryffindor for nothing. He had a goal, and jumping in was the only way to reach it. At least Marvolo would probably be happy.
oooOOooo
AN: This was chapter 50! It feels a little surreal how long I'm already working on this story. How many people are reading it and leaving their comments for me here. Thanks to all those 3148 Followers, every one of those who wrote one of the 2057 reviews... in short everyone who helped me stay on track, who gave me new ideas, and helped me get so far.
Thanks to Jordre and Jake for helping to improve my spelling!
And for farawisa's help in keeping the facts straight.
First published on the 2nd of June 2017
Next chapter planned for 16th of June 2017
