A/N: Remember, Harry = Hadrian and Hermione = Helena. Thanks to my cousin KNM for her first-hand info on shops in Cork.
I apologize for taking so long to update. RL has been incredibly busy, and those responsibilities must come first. But I have no intention of abandoning this story, even if I cannot update as regularly as I would like. Thank you for continuing to read, and for your reviews. I love seeing your reactions and your feedback!
Disclaimer: Not my sandbox. I just play here.
When the two newly minted Snapes found their way upstairs and into the headmaster's office, they found Dumbledore sitting behind his desk, alone save for Fawkes. Seeing them standing in the doorway, he smiled and welcomed them in.
As they approached the desk, Dumbledore turned and pulled a tray out of a cabinet. He set the tray on top of the desk, and they saw that it contained wands. Belatedly, both children realized uneasily that their own wands had not been left out in their rooms—and consequently that they did not have them. It just hadn't seemed strange, what with everything else going on and not being accustomed to carrying their wands during the summer holidays anyway.
"Since each wand is unique, we cannot risk having either of you identified by your wands," Dumbledore explained as they approached. "Nor can we risk your cover by sending you wand shopping now—years after you are supposed to have begun using wands. But you must both have wands that respond adequately to you, and as it so happens I have a number of wands in my safekeeping."
Neither child looked happy—they had been using their wands long enough to view their wands as extensions of their selves—but they were curious, too. The tray held just over a dozen wands, more than either had seen in one place outside of Ollivander's shop.
"It would be fairly easy to explain your ownership of any of these wands," explained Dumbledore, "though there are others we can try if none of these prove adequate. Do go ahead and try them."
Hadrian began picking them up one at a time, feeling—or failing to feel—each in his hand, much as he had done five years ago when Hagrid took him to Ollivander's shop. With five years of magical training he was able to sense more of the wands, though most failed to warm to him, or felt sluggish in his hand. Still, there were three he liked enough to try casting spells with, and he moved those three off to one side so that he could try casting with them.
Helena approached the choice rather differently. Rather than picking any of the wands up, she closed her eyes and ran her hand over the tray, reaching out with her magic to sense their compatibility with it. There were two whose presence she felt far more strongly than the rest, and like Hadrian she pulled them aside to try casting spells with them.
As the two children experimented with the wands, Snape and Madam O'Malley entered the room and stopped to watch.
Of the three Hadrian tested with actual spells, one seemed slightly sluggish and another difficult to control. The third, carved from the palest wood of the three, was nicely responsive, however. If it was less perfect a match than his own holly and phoenix feather wand, the difference was not terribly noticeable. Something in his chest relaxed as he held it, not unlike the feeling he got every time he boarded the Hogwarts Express in London.
"I think this one will do for me," he said to Dumbledore, returning the other two wands to the tray. His new wand was very slightly longer than his old one, and while he found the wood strangely pale in contrast to the holly he was accustomed to, there was a warmth to its color that appealed to him.
Dumbledore examined the wand and checked against what appeared to be a registry, lying open on his desk. "Hawthorn and phoenix feather, 11 ¼", rather springy," he read to Hadrian. "Incidentally, the only wand in this group with a phoenix feather core. I'm very glad it responds to you, my boy."
Madam O'Malley came forward to examine it, too. "My brother Michael's," she stated, smiling at him. "Quite appropriate, and I'm sure he would have approved of its being put to this use."
"What happened to him?" Hadrian asked.
"He died with the rest of my family," she responded, her voice brittle yet even. "Death Eaters came one night while the family was at supper, in July 1981. They killed everyone—my parents, my brothers. Martin and Michael—they were twins, fraternal twins—hadn't even finished Hogwarts yet. Just finished with their sixth year. They never had a chance.
"I was out on an errand for the Order. Dad had been so worried about me going—it was risky, he said, and he was right, for all he didn't know any of the details—and yet I wouldn't have survived if not for that errand. As it was I returned to the Dark Mark over their house, and carnage inside. The twists of fate, the randomness of it…"
"Thank you for telling me," Hadrian replied, voice rough. He ran his fingers over the wand, trying to make sense of the fact that its last owner had been younger than Cedric when he died.
Across the room, Helena bit her lip and closed her eyes for a moment, then resumed her methodical testing of the two wands. Both were serviceable if unfamiliar, and if they had not both been available she would have accepted either without demure. Given the choice between them, however, she was determined to discover which was the better match.
They seemed to be equal in power and control, and neither felt sluggish in her hand. But as she worked up to more complex spells, she found that the wand carved from a silvery-white wood was slightly less precise than the reddish-tinted wand. Going through a series of spells that relied heavily on precision with both wands, she confirmed to herself that it wasn't a fluke: the reddish wand really was more precise.
She returned the silvery-white wand to the tray on Dumbledore's desk, realizing as she did so that everyone had been watching her. Snape—still standing in the doorway behind them—was as inscrutable as ever, Madam O'Malley looked impressed, Hadrian's lips and eyebrows were quirked in a mixture of amusement and exasperation (though the expression looked far haughtier on his face than it had ever looked on Harry's), and Dumbledore was twinkling even more than usual, whatever that meant.
"This wand seems to suit me nicely," she said, handing it to the headmaster for his examination.
"That's Marlene's," breathed Madam O'Malley, eyes rapt upon the reddish-tinted wand.
"Indeed, this wand did belong to Marlene McKinnon," confirmed Dumbledore. "Rosewood and dragon heartstring, 10 ½", firm but not rigid. A strong wand for a strong witch."
He handed the wand back to her, and Helena stroked it reverently, feeling the controlled potential resonating within it. She had read about Marlene McKinnon: she and her husband had been murdered by Voldemort himself, after incapacitating several Death Eaters—some of them permanently. Yes, she would use this wand with pride.
Dumbledore replaced the tray in the cabinet and locked it, then gestured for the three people clustered around the desk to sit down, conjuring extra armchairs as he did. Helena glanced back to the doorway, wondering whether Snape might join them, but he was already gone.
Seating himself behind the desk, Dumbledore spoke. "I'm very pleased that you were able to find adequate wands so easily. No one will question your using wands previously owned by your uncle and your mother's closest friend."
"Where is my original wand, though?" interjected Hadrian, feeling the absence of the holly and phoenix feather wand with which he'd faced Voldemort on multiple occasions.
"Why, we stowed them in your trunks—assuming you haven't removed them—in your rooms downstairs, along with the clothes you had been wearing before the adoption. All of your things will be kept there, where they are secure yet accessible.
"It is very important that you use the wand in keeping with your present form—especially for you, Hadrian. You must use Harry's wand when you are Harry, and you must absolutely use it when confronting Voldemort—who, by the way, you will both need to refer to as the Dark Lord while you are Snapes, in keeping with your father's role. But you must not bring Harry's wand if it is ever necessary for you to go before the Dark Lord as Hadrian Snape.
"As for you," Dumbledore continued, turning to Helena, "You will need to remain Helena Snape even when Hadrian transforms back into Harry Potter. The success of your new roles relies on people truly believing that Hermione Granger is dead and therefore not seeking to account for her. Even the hint of a rumor that Hermione Granger is alive could undermine both of your positions. I'm afraid I must ask you not to become Hermione Granger again until after Voldemort has been defeated for good."
When Helena had assented (she had expected no less), he continued. "You will both keep the things belonging to your old selves in the rooms you've been assigned downstairs. No one will be able to access those rooms without both knowing your Secret and wishing you well, so they should be secure. I ask that you keep everything traceable to your old identities in those rooms, including your wands, your broomstick, and yes, even the Maurader's Map and your invisibility cloak, Hadrian—they are far too unique for Hadrian Snape to own without causing exactly the kind of speculations we wish to forestall, no matter how useful they may be."
Both children nodded glumly, understanding the headmaster's reasoning but not immune to the sense of loss these instructions instilled.
"Now, there is one more thing we must settle," Dumbledore continued. "This time relating to your schooling. Since you will be entering as fourth years, you must pick electives. Given your assumed backgrounds, you will need to pick from Arithmancy, Ancient Runes, and Care of Magical Creatures."
"Can I take all three?" Helena queried immediately.
"I'm afraid not," answered Dumbledore. "We would never allow an unknown student to take more than the standard course load, and as Helena Snape you must be treated as an unknown student. Besides, choosing to take extra electives is rare enough that it would create just the sort of similarity between you and Hermione Granger that we most need to avoid. You really must pick two."
Helena nodded, disappointment obvious on her face. It was wrenching, but she had agreed to this—even if she hadn't understood what it meant at the time. "Arithmancy and Runes, then."
"Very well," Dumbledore nodded slowly and jotted down her choices. "Hadrian?"
"The only one of those I've taken is Care of Magical Creatures," he answered anxiously. "Can't I do Divination or Muggle Studies?"
"I'm afraid not," Dumbledore responded. "Your mother is well known to have no interest in or respect for divination as a subject, and it would be politically problematic as your father's child to be enrolled in Muggle Studies. Since you'll be entering as a fourth year you'll only have one year to make up, and I'm sure Helena will be willing to tutor you over the summer in whichever subject you choose."
Helena nodded earnestly at this, her recent disappointment offset though not erased by this suggestion. Hadrian bit back a groan, already imagining how much she would make him work. The headmaster endeavored to hide his amusement at this interchange, though given the look Madam O'Malley gave him it was clear that he did not entirely succeed.
"Runes, I suppose," Hadrian eventually responded. From the glimpses he'd caught of Hermione's homework, runes looked infinitely easier than Arithmancy, though he knew almost nothing about either.
"Excellent," Dumbledore smiled, writing down Hadrian's choices next to Helena's. "You still have your introductory textbook for them to use this summer?" he asked Madam O'Malley, who responded in the affirmative. "Good, good. Now, do either of you have any questions for me before Fawkes returns you to Ireland?"
"Yes," answered Hadrian and Helena at the same moment.
Dumbledore gestured for Hadrian to go first.
"Er, I have three questions, really," the boy began. "First, is there a reason you left those quills of mine out with your books?"
"Ah, yes, thank you for reminding me," the headmaster replied. "While you were asleep I enchanted those quills to write with Harry Potter's handwriting when you use them—and only when you use them. I apologize for not asking you in advance, but it needed to be done and they needed to belong to Harry. I suggest you take one or two with you, to write letters to your friends over the summer—which you will give directly to me to check over and deliver for you. The rest can remain here, to be used for the same purpose later on."
Hadrian nodded, as he'd suspected something of the sort. "What about Hedwig?"
"I'm afraid you cannot keep your owl with you, particularly since she is so distinctive. I was planning on giving her to Hagrid to care for, unless there's something else you'd prefer?"
For a moment Hadrian considered asking the headmaster to give Hedwig to Ginny, but he finally decided against it. Hagrid was so good with animals, and he was the one who had bought Hedwig for him in the first place.
"Okay," he responded. "My last question is about Quidditch. Will I be able to play?"
Dumbledore sighed softly. "Your father and I have had several discussions on this subject. We are agreed that it is important that you both have access to brooms and be able to fly when needed, simply as a matter of security. New brooms will be provided for both of you for this purpose, though I'm afraid they will seem quite limited in comparison to your Firebolt. Indeed, I hope that you will help your sister with flying this summer, much as she will tutor you in Ancient Runes, to make the disparity in your flying abilities as small as possible."
Helena grimaced at this—flying was really not her favorite activity—but nodded grimly. She saw the logic of it: if Helena Snape was competent on a broom, it would add to the distance between her and Hermione Granger, and it would really stretch credulity if the twin sister of such a talented Quidditch player was a horrendously bad flyer.
Hadrian grinned, his expectations for summer suddenly becoming far rosier. Helena would need a lot of practice, and that meant a lot of time flying—for both of them. And the best part was that she wouldn't dare protest those hours, not when Dumbledore himself had prescribed them.
"That said, I do not think it would be wise for you to fly too often during term," continued Dumbledore. "I'm afraid, Hadrian, that you must not seem too interested in Quidditch, either as a player or as a spectator. You may fly with friends from time to time—at their suggestion—and you may even occasionally throw a Quaffle around. But I must ask that you avoid playing even informal games, and if you absolutely cannot avoid being drawn into a game, you must under no circumstances play Seeker—insist on playing some other position, and if all else fails, fake an illness or an injury. Your flying is simply too distinctive, and too likely to give you away."
Hadrian nodded, crestfallen. He couldn't disagree with Dumbledore's argument, but he hated it.
"It should go without saying, but you absolutely cannot try out or play for your house Quidditch team. If anyone should pressure you to try out, you may say that your father prefers for you to focus on your studies—an excuse which has the benefit of being true, though please believe me that your father would not deny you Quidditch were your safety not at stake."
Hadrian grimaced at this, but did not voice his skepticism. Based on the past five years, he suspected that like the Dursleys, Snape objected to allowing him anything that might make him happy. At least he'd get to fly over the summer—and maybe over breaks, if Snape listened to Dumbledore.
Satisfied that Hadrian was not arguing, Dumbledore turned to Helena. "Now, my dear, I believe you had questions as well?"
"Yes," she responded. "Or one question, for now. Our teeth."
"What about your teeth?"
"They're all crooked, Sir. Mine and Hadrian's, both. I know there are spells that can straighten them, and I was hoping…"
"I see." Dumbledore smiled, clearly amused. "Hadrian, do you have strong feelings on the matter?"
"Er, I think I'd like to have them straightened, if that's what you're asking?" Hadrian didn't care much about straight teeth per se—and he was bemused that Helena could possibly care so much—but he was in favor of anything that might make him look less like Snape, and Snape had horribly crooked teeth.
"It's not the sort of thing Severus could believably address, but if Madam O'Malley is willing I see no reason why you can't get your teeth straightened this summer in Ireland." Turning to Madam O'Malley, Dumbledore asked, "Would you be willing to oblige them? Funds can of course be provided."
"Certainly," she smiled, showing teeth that were far straighter and better cared for than Snape's. "It would be my pleasure."
Helena exhaled loudly in relief, and Hadrian smirked at the strength of her response.
# # #
Madam O'Malley's home proved to be a small cottage in the countryside outside of Cork. Hidden from the road by several turns and a copse of trees, it was nevertheless an easy walk to a Muggle bus stop a little ways down the road. The bus only came once an hour, but it took them directly to the center of the city.
Fawkes delivered them to what was clearly the entranceway, with an umbrella stand near the door, a coat rack on the wall, and a stairway directly across from the door. That first afternoon when they arrived, Madam O'Malley had them down the road and waiting for the bus before they could inspect anything beyond the front hall, explaining that the bus didn't run late and she didn't have the energy to apparate all three of them.
Upon arrival in town, their first stop was Boots, where Helena headed directly for the dental care section. After choosing toothbrushes, toothpaste, and dental floss for herself and Hadrian, she looked so relieved that Hadrian couldn't stop himself from laughing at her.
They moved quickly through the store, picking up such necessities as deodorant, hairbrushes and combs, and in Helena's case hair ties and sanitary products.
The only aisle where they lingered was the one containing shampoo. Turning to Helena, Hadrian mouthed "help," with such a display of helplessness and horror on his face that she burst out laughing.
"What we want is clarifying shampoo—that's the kind that cuts down on oil," she told him, for the first time in her life thankful for Parvati and Lavender's endless discussions of both Muggle and magical hair care. "Avoid anything that says moisturizing," she continued, looking sadly at the selection of shampoos that had worked so well on her previously dry and frizzy hair. "And we probably don't want anything that says daily, either—it'll be too gentle to work with this much oil."
"Have I told you lately that you're wonderful?" Hadrian asked, grabbing a large bottle of clarifying shampoo off the shelf, an un-Snapelike expression of pure gratitude upon his face.
She rolled her eyes and laughed in response, reading several labels before grabbing three bottles: a clarifying shampoo, a volumizing shampoo, and a matching volumizing conditioner, all from the same brand. Shaking his head and deciding he didn't even want to ask why she needed so many products, Hadrian followed her away from the aisle.
#
After Boots they went to Marks and Spencer's, where Madam O'Malley instructed them to pick out complete casual wardrobes, adding only that they were to avoid buying anything in either emerald green or bright red (obviously Dumbledore or Snape's rules) and that they shouldn't worry about shoes, as they'd get those on another day. Having given these instructions, she settled down to wait, clearly not intending to supervise their choices.
Helena immediately set off towards the junior girls' section, leaving Hadrian begging her to wait up.
"But our clothes are in different sections," she countered, exasperated. "We'll be done much faster if we split up. You don't actually enjoy picking clothes, do you?"
"I've never actually shopped for clothes in a Muggle store," he confessed. "I've no idea what to get."
"What, never?" she asked, aghast.
"Not that I can remember," he responded. "The Dursleys always gave me Dudley's old things. They would have considered it a waste of money to buy anything new for me. And of course I got all my school clothes in Diagon Alley."
Helena pursed her lips to keep herself from speaking, though the fierce frown that appeared on her forehead spoke volumes. She had always known that the Dursleys didn't treat Harry right, but she'd never realized quite how many ordinary experiences he'd never had.
When she spoke, it was not to question further. "Come on then. If we're going through both sections, we'll have to go quickly. We'll have to try things on separately, but you can decide what fits, right?"
"Yeah," he responded, too relieved to be offended by this last question.
The greatest difficulty for Helena was finding an appropriate bra—her chest was so small that she scarcely needed one, yet she knew from experience that by fourth year the other girls would laugh if she didn't wear them. She spent so long trying to decide—ultimately deciding on two, one each in black and white, each providing just enough support to qualify as wearing a bra without being ludicrous for the tiny breasts they covered—that Hadrian had to wait for her even despite the much greater trouble he'd had in figuring out which sizes fit him.
In the end, they each got a small mountain of clothes: three sets of pajamas, three pairs of jeans, two pairs of sweatpants, a sweatshirt, two sweaters, and numerous t-shirts for each of them, along with plenty of underwear and socks. Hadrian also took a pair of cargo pants, and Helena got a knee-length blue and white floral-print dress and a matching blue cardigan.
Hadrian was rather stunned by the sheer quantity of clothing: not counting his Hogwarts uniforms, it was more clothes than he could ever remember owning. He reflected dazedly that the quantities of underwear and socks that Helena deemed necessary were nearly double what he had previously owned at any point in time, though Dudley had certainly owned more. Trained by habit and experience, he did not voice these thoughts aloud.
Both Hadrian and Helena were in good spirits when they boarded the bus out of the city. The strangeness of it all made it feel like an adventure, and they were pleased with their purchases. Helena was deeply relieved to possess a full complement of comfortably familiar Muggle toiletries and clothes (most especially dental care products), as she'd feared that posing as the child of a magical family meant she'd be obliged to do without them. Hadrian was thrilled as well as awed to have an entire set of ordinary clothes that fit him for the first time in his life, even if the him they fit was not quite the one to which he was accustomed.
#
Upon their arrival back at the house, Madam O'Malley chivvied them upstairs with their bulging shopping bags.
At the top of the stairs they found a short hall with three doors: one to each side and a third directly ahead.
Pointing to the door on the left, Madam O'Malley informed them, "That's my room. You may knock if I'm in there, but please don't enter without my permission." Pointing to the door straight ahead, she continued. "That's the bathroom. There's a washroom on the ground floor as well, but the only bath is in there."
Walking to the remaining door, she opened it, gesturing them inside. "And this will be your room. You might as well put away your things and make yourselves at home."
The room was bright and cheerful, with matching patchwork quilts on the beds. On top of the quilts lay matching broomsticks, both of them obviously new. There were dressers, across from the foot of each of the beds, and matching nightstands. A low bookshelf against one wall held a collection of tattered children's books, obviously old and well-used, and a wooden rocking chair sat in one corner. The room didn't look very lived in, despite its cheerfulness.
Hadrian moved towards the bed closer to the door, dropping his bags on the floor by the bed as he bent to inspect the broom. Seeing this, Helena walked to the dresser across from the other bed and deposited her bags on top of it.
"I'll leave you to get settled, then," said Madam O'Malley from the doorway.
When Madam O'Malley had gone, Helena walked to her own bed and examined the broomstick on top of it, reading the words Comet 290 emblazoned on the handle. "Are they good brooms?" she asked Hadrian, genuinely curious.
"They're all right," he responded unconvincingly, unable to mask the disappointment in his voice.
Hearing it, she walked over to him and pulled him into a hug. "I'm sorry," she whispered.
Hadrian wasn't sure whether she was referring to the brooms, specifically, or this whole masquerade as mini-Snapes. He didn't ask.
