Chapter 2 – Return to Hogwarts

Harry knew that he deserved the lecture on properly surveilling his surroundings and watching his back and thus listened penitently to the same lecture Ron had been given the week prior. The surprise was after the lecture ended. Instead of trying to find more witnesses in Knockturn Alley, he and Ron were told to report to Auror Robertson and to be prepared to floo to Hogwarts.

The two friends weren't able to hide their delight as they made their way to Robertson's desk. Any excuse to return to Hogwarts was wonderful.

Orville Robertson was a tall, slender wizard with wavy, dark red hair. He frowned as Harry and Ron approached.

"Don't look so cheerful. You think you're going on a lark but trust me, you'll soon realize you got stuck with the short thestral hair." Yawning, he levitated piles of reports from the two chairs in front of him onto the floor and motioned for them to take sit down. He gave a small grin. "Though, mind you, there are benefits."

"Sir, what exactly are we doing at Hogwarts? The Chief didn't give any details, and we weren't in a position to ask." Ron managed to ask in a somber voice. Harry imagined it was the voice he used with Molly when she was chewing him out after a brilliant misadventure.

Robertson took a sip from the cup in front of him, frowned, and banished it. "Some fool got the idea after the war ended that Snape could help us track down the rest of the Death Eaters. Put it in the regs that every time there is suspected D.E. activity that we are to contact him. Well, the git hasn't had any useful information for us for well over a year but we still have to deal with the devil."

Harry sat up. "We couldn't have won the war without him!"

Robertson rolled his eyes. "Yeah, yeah, yeah, Big hero, lied to He-Who-Is-Surely-Dead, brilliant spy – I've read what you've said about him. Might even believe some of it. He's still a mean son-of-a-crup and a nasty character. You'll see for yourself." He shrugged. "I've nothing on my plate today. What are your schedules like?"

Harry and Ron glanced at each other. "We were just told to report to you."

Robertson stifled another yawn. "I suppose there's no time like the present." He cast a Tempus and gave a vicious smile. "In fact, now's the perfect time. Let's go."

Bemused, Harry and Ron stood up hastily. "Yes, sir."

The three made their way to the floo. The Auror trainees couldn't hear what was said when Robertson stuck he head in the flames but were a bit nervous when they saw Robertson's expression. It reminded Harry of Draco's grin when he thought he was getting away with something. After the senior Auror disappeared through the flames, Harry looked at Ron as he grabbed a fistful of floo powder. "Did that expression remind you of anyone?"

"Yeah, George and Fred as they were about to get revenge on someone." Ron picked up his own powder. "But look, mate, we're getting paid to go to Hogwarts. How bad can it be?" He stepped through the flame.

Harry stared at the empty fireplace. "Yeah, I've heard that before," he muttered as he threw in the floo powder. "Hogwart's Headmaster's Office!"

Minerva McGonagall had brought her own touches to the Headmaster's office. Albus' collection of mysterious knickknacks were now gathered together in one curio cabinet which, from the looks of it, had survived a fire. The portrait of the previous headmaster now was hung behind McGonagall's desk over a bucolic country scene. The table in front of the fireplace was doubled in size, and six comfortable looking stuffed chairs formed a semi-circle around it. The chairs no longer had flower patterns, but rather a selection of plaids. Under the window to left of the desk was a writing table. On it was a set of omnioculars. From where he was standing, Harry could see the tops of the quidditch goalposts; he was sure that he'd be able to see the entire pitch if he was standing close to the window.

Harry turned his attention to the Headmistress. To his surprise, Minerva did not look happy to see them when she glanced up before returning to her work. Pointedly she did not offer them a seat. Instead, she signed her name with a flourish to a parchment on her desk before putting down her quill and standing up. She nodded at Harry and Ron before turning to the senior Auror. "Auror Robertson, I assume you need to see Severus."

"Got it in one, Minerva," Robertson replied gravely.

"I sometimes think you time these things deliberately, Reece. You know that Severus is in class now. To call him away will disrupt his lesson and put him behind schedule," said Minerva, frowning.

And embarrass the wizard most likely, because it would quickly get around Hogwarts that Snape was talking to Aurors, Harry suddenly realized.

"My apologies," Robertson said. "I wish things could be different, but you have no idea what it's like in the office right now. This was the only time we could break away. What with the recent attacks in Knockturn Alley, we are swamped." Harry quickly hid his surprise at this statement as Robertson continued. "In any case, I'm sure the students will enjoy their suddenly free period." He chuckled. "I know I would have relished the opportunity to get out of the dungeons for some clean air."

Minerva looked like she was biting her tongue. "Of course. I'll get Severus up here as soon as he can take care of his classroom. As usual, you can use my conference room." She motioned to the small room off to the right of her desk.

"You're too kind," Robertson replied with a slight bow. As he turned away from her, he winked at Harry and Ron.

The conference room had a round oak table and four chairs. On one wall hung a portrait of a middle-aged witch in a long gray cloak; she looked up from feeding some clucking chickens at her feet. Robertson transfigured the table so that it was rectangular. Ron gaped at him for transfiguring something without the owner's permission but closed his mouth before Robertson could see his expression. Robertson then moved three chairs to one side of the table and cast something at the fourth chair.

"Won't that look like we're interrogating him, sir?" asked Harry tentatively.

"That's the idea. You'll learn that there are some people it doesn't pay to be polite to," Robertson explained. "Some suspects respond to kindness, and others will walk all over you if you're nice to them. The trick is to be able to recognize which is which. If you guess wrong, you'll either get stonewalled or a blubbering mess who will confess to anything just to leave."

Ron bit his lip. "But aren't we here to get Snape's help? He's not a suspect as far as I know."

Robertson sat down on the middle chair and put his dragonhide boots on the table. Harry winced when he imagined Minerva's expression. "If Snape's got info, you won't get it by being nice," the senior Auror replied. He glanced up at the portrait in the room and casually conjured a curtain to cover it. The witch pursed her lips as she disappeared from view and the clucking faded away. "You should always make sure that only those in on the investigation attend the interviews. For some reason, people often overlook portraits."

They heard the Headmistress greet Severus. Robertson took his feet off the table and motioned the others to sit down. "Now the fun begins. Listen and learn. I don't want to hear a peep out of you."

Snape walked into the room with his face completely expressionless. "Robertson," he sneered in distain. His voice was gravelly. The tip of scar tissue from Nagini's attack could be seen above his collar. He looked over at Harry, his eyes lingering for a moment at the left side of Harry's face, and glanced at Ron before focusing entirely on Robertson.

The senior Auror didn't get up but motioned to the empty chair. Snape glanced at it with distain and pulled out his wand. Careful to keep it pointed at the chair, he verbally cast charms to even the length of the legs and to provide some cushioning before returning his wand to his arm holster. Harry was surprised Snape didn't cast such elementary spells non-verbally and then realized that it was to show the Aurors what he was doing. The Potions Master then sat down gracefully.

When Snape didn't say anything, Robertson leaned forward. "Snape, you know the drill. There was an attack on Aurors in Knockturn early last week. What do you know of if?"

Snape raised an eyebrow. "What I've read in the Prophet of course. The paper made it sound like the Aurors were attacked while they were stopping some violence between rival groups." He glanced at Harry's face again.

"I don't suppose you happened to know anyone involved." Robertson drummed his fingers on the table.

"Without knowing more, I can't answer that," replied Snape dryly.

"They were wearing black cloaks, if that helps. Sound familiar?" the Auror barked.

Snape acted indifferent. "I would think most denizens of the Alley have black cloaks. Muggle attire would cause one to be stared at, and that is something most in the Alley wish to avoid."

"So what are they avoiding, Snape?" Roberson barked.

"I would imagine Aurors. Your type isn't too popular there," the Potions Master replied calmly.

"My type, eh? So you don't put yourself in the same league as me?" Robertson sneered.

Snape leaned back. "Far be it from me to compare myself to such august company."

The Auror huffed. "Just tell me what you know."

Snape shook his head and then sighed, seeming to tire of the game. "Nothing, Robertson. I've been in the castle since classes resumed except for occasionally leaving to buy supplies. The last time I was in Hogsmeade was two weeks ago. I did not hear any rumors concerning the Knockturn Alley fracas then. When I made a very brief visit London over the weekend to get replacement nundu whiskers because an incompetent N.E.W.T. student decided to boil rather than simmer her potion causing her cauldron to catch fire and forcing me to Vanish it, I did not visit Knockturn Alley, nor was I in contact with anyone who lives there. My focus has been on keeping hormonal teenage dunderheads from either poisoning themselves or blowing themselves up while trying to pound enough knowledge into them to get them to pass their O.W.L.s and," pointedly glaring at Harry and Ron, "N.E.W.T.s." The two younger Aurors slunk down in their chairs.

Robertson sat back. "I've no reason to keep you then. You may leave. Just remember, I'm keeping my eye on you."

Snape stood up. "As always, it's been a pleasure," he bowed ironically. He again took out his wand and verbally removed the charms he had added to the chair. With a final quick look at Harry and Ron, leaving the door open when he left.

Robertson stood up. "See, I told you it would be a waste of time." Casting a Tempus, he continued, "But with this unpleasant business over, the bright spot of the day is that The Three Broomsticks is open for lunch now. Care to join me?"

Ron's face lit up. "Of course!" Harry nodded.

Back in the main office, they thanked McGonagall. As they were about to leave, Harry turned to the Headmistress, casting about for a reason to stay. "Would you have a bit of time for me, ma'am? I'd love to know what you expect of the Gryffindor quidditch team this year." He winced at the weak excuse, but no one seemed to notice.

McGonagall nodded. "I always have time for you, Harry."

"I won't take much of your time, ma'am. Robertson, Ron, I'll catch up with you in just a few minutes."

As the two left the office, McGonagall's expression turned from merely polite into a worried look. "Harry – I see that the Prophet was correct for once. You were hit by a nasty curse."

Harry's face became red enough to match the remaining burn. "Yeah. I had to spend an unpleasant night at St. Mungo's. I'm glad I didn't have to stay any longer as it's hard to get any rest with all the prodding and poking. On top of that, every time my eyes were about to close one of the staff would ask for an autograph. The whole incident was embarrassing, though. I managed to escape from Voldemort and then got taken down by a wanna-be."

The Headmistress motioned him to one of the chairs in front of the fireplace and tapped the table. A tea set and a plateful of aromatic scones bursting with plump blueberries appeared. "I know you'll have lunch soon, but this will tide you over for the walk."

Harry looked at her. "How did you know we're going out for lunch?"

McGonagall peered at him over her glasses. "Apart from hearing you talk about it after Snape left, and your compatriots leaving through the door rather than the floo?"

"Oh – can we pretend I never asked the question before my face turns any more red?" Harry picked up one of the cups.

A slight smile on her face, the Headmistress picked up the other cup and held out the sugar bowl. "Actually, it's a good question." She leaned forward conspiratorially. "Between you and me, and don't repeat this, only the Headmaster can actually put a silencing ward around Elizabeth. If anyone else tries, it only deadens the sound going into the room – otherwise those blasted chickens will drive anyone in the room go aff yer heid." She motioned with her head to the small country scene behind her desk, under Dumbledore's portrait where the witch, sitting on the fence, gave a small wave. "Elizabeth's other portrait is there, and she does love to gossip with the living," she whispered

Harry blinked. He looked up at Albus, who winked at him. "Hello, my boy."

"Hello, sir." He turned back to the current Headmistress. "Was that – conversation – typical when the Aurors come to interview Professor Snape?"

McGonagall sniffed. "Unfortunately, the answer is usually yes. There are a few Aurors who appreciate what Severus did during the war. Those conversations are a bit more amiable. However, since it's now been two years from the war's ending, even those meetings tend not to be productive. When it's someone like Robertson - well, Severus doesn't go out of his way to help. I suspect sometimes that Robertson – who was an outstanding Gryffindor in his day, mind you, a prefect – deliberately times his visits to disrupt Severus' classes. I've told him before when Severus has office hours and suggested he come then, but somehow it never happens."

Harry squirmed uncomfortably in his seat and looked at the table as he put down at his cup. "Ah, Auror hours can be unpredictable." He stood up. "Well, I'd best be getting on. Say, do you think Professor Snape would meet up with me one-on-one? I'd like to talk to him about Death Eater techniques and organization. I've found some serious gaps in the Auror training manuals that leave the M.L.E. vulnerable."

McGonagall walked him to the door but looked back. "What do you think, Albus? You know Severus better than anyone."

The portrait drummed his fingers once in thought and then nodded. "If you approach him properly, yes. What Aurors like Robertson don't appreciate is that Severus wants threats to the peaceful wizarding world gone more than anyone else. He's seen firsthand the dangers of extremism and violence. A word of advice, though – study what's already been disseminated. If you approach him expecting to be spoon fed information, he'll toss you out."

Harry grinned as he reached for the door. "Do my homework before class – got it."

Albus cleared his throat. "You may want to approach it from the angle that the more you know the better chance you'll have at staying alive. He devoted his life to protecting you, my boy. He'll not want to have wasted his time."

Harry nodded thoughtfully.

"And for Merlin's sake," added McGonagall, "don't set up the meeting during his class hours!"

IKAIKAIKA

By the time the three Aurors returned to London it was mid-afternoon. Harry and Ron followed Robertson, who knocked on the door of the Head of the Auror Division, a slender, dark-skinned witch named Portia Johnson. The door slid to the side. The witch behind the large oak desk looked up. "Well? Anything we can use?"

Robertson shook his head somberly. "We went over the incident with him for hours." Harry and Ron quickly shut their mouths as the senior Auror continued, "Snape could add nothing. If you ask me, he's past his usefulness."

Johnson shrugged. "I guess it's about time to change that policy. I …"

Robertson interrupted her. "Ma'am, I wouldn't be so hasty. I've a good feeling that Snape knows something – I just have to figure out how to get it out of him."

"Very well, Robertson." She nodded decisively. "It looks like this investigation is at a dead end unless new information comes to light. Back to work, all three of you. There's been a report about a silver cauldron being stolen in Ipswich. And Potter – get another healing charm performed. It looks like St. Mungo's was in a hurry that night. And please do something with that hair of yours on the left side. It looks unprofessional."

As they left the office, Harry turned quietly to Ron as Robertson returned to his desk. "Hours of discussion? Did someone Obliviate me?"

Ron smirked. "Nah, but we did get good Shepherd's Pies at the Three Broomsticks out of the visit." He licked his lips. "And I'd forgotten how creamy their butterbeer is. I never thought I'd say this, but I think we need to meet weekly with Snape."

IKAIKAIKA

Harry Apparated to St. Mungo's as soon as he'd ensured there was nothing pressing on his desk. "Nasty, one there, m … hey, aren't you Harry Potter?" the young Welcome Witch greeted him.

Harry sighed. "Yes, I am. I was given emergency treatment the 28th but it's just not healing."

"Fourth floor, Spell Damage Ward. Say, before you go," the witch looked around to make sure no one was watching and then out a month-old issue of Witch Weekly from beneath the desk and a quill, "could I get an autograph? I have a son, you see…"

Harry sighed. He hated these requests that were all too common. If he refused he was called a snob who'd let fame go to his head; if he acquiesced he felt like Gilderoy Lockhart. He hesitated, but saw a picture of a young boy waving at him on the desk. The witch was beaming as he walked towards the elevators.

The Healer on duty thankfully focused on the burn on his face rather than his fading scar. "You said you got this on the 28th?" she asked as she took out her wand. "Was it during the fighting in Knockturn Alley?"

Harry tried to ignore the diagnosis results being written by what reminded him too much of Rita Skeeter's Quick-Quotes Quill. "Yes. I was unconscious when I was brought in, but my partner was able to describe the wand action and the color of the curse." He demonstrated the motion that Ron had described.

The Healer sat back. "That is the classic description of Ast Caro. From my understanding, there was a lot going on that night. The intern Mediwizard on duty may have applied the counter-curse incorrectly. Don't worry, though. I'll reapply it and you'll be right as rain."

Harry couldn't help thinking of how rain could bring floods and destruction.

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