Disclaimer: All characters and universe from the Harry Potter series belong
to JK Rowling and assorted corporations. Original characters and story
belong to the author.
Thanks to everyone who's reading. I really appreciate you taking the time.
If you like what you read, please take the time to tell a friend, or two,
or three . . .
Now sit back and enjoy dear reader . . .
Chapter Three
Saturday morning dawned clear and sunny, and a gentle breeze rustled the treetops on the school grounds. The unusual heat wave had broken and mild weather made for easy Hogsmeade walking. After breakfast, Harry, Ron and Hermione along with all the eligible students, filed past Filtch the caretaker as he meticulously marked them off his piece of parchment. Filtch waved them through without trouble today and the three stepped out into the sunlight and fresh air. For Harry, the day seemed full of possibility and he found himself looking forward to their Hogsmeade visit more so than he had in quite some time. It was weird, since Sirius died; simple things that had always excited him seemed now to be trivial. But a quick look at Ron and Hermione and Harry decided he was going to try and have a nice time today. The both of them had been watching him closely lately, concern apparent on their faces. They couldn't begin to imagine losing a parent and they could not even court the thought of what it would feel like to lose both and a godfather on top of that. So they stood steadfast by their friend, offering support whenever he seemed to need it and distraction when necessary. More than ever, Harry realized how vital that was to him now; and more than ever, it also scared him.
Scared him enough to tackle Occlumency with a new fervor. After Voldermort used Sirius to draw Harry out, Harry vowed it would never happen again. Already (with much practice, that is) the dreams had massively subsided. They had not stopped completely, but when they took place, they did not result in his vomiting over the side of his bed as the dreams had in the past. But he tried to put all that out of his mind as he made his way down the road with Ron and Hermione.
"I really have a lot to do today," Hermione said as she counted counted off her errands on her fingers. "I need parchment. I'd like to get a new quill. Crookshanks needs a new collar, he lost his old one."
"You'd like to kick back and relax for thirty seconds. Hey. Should we put that on the schedule before or after we buy the collar," Ron teased. His comment was met with a smirk which only encouraged him. "I'll take that as before. As a matter of fact, I'll take that as a 'we should kick back right now!'" Nodding at Harry they each stepped to one side of Hermione and grabbed hold of an arm. She protested only mildly as they steered her towards the Three Broomsticks, through its doors and into its comfy dim interior.
Once inside the tavern, they headed for the bar and waited for the bar keep to take their orders. They didn't see Professor Praline come up behind them and signal the bartender for a round on her.
"Put it on my tab, Erlo," she said as he set down their butterbeers before them. The three of them whirled around and found Praline standing before them; as usual, a grin on her heart-shaped face.
"Wanna join me? I've got a table and it's a very precious commodity right now." True to her word, the seating area was brimming with students and townsfolk, alike. Praline gestured towards a large table in the back. Her spacious, black backpack lay on top, marking her territory and claiming the table as her own.
"Aren't you afraid someone might steal your bag," Hermione asked anxiously.
"I pity anyone that tries to touch that bag without my permission," Praline said with a mischievous gleam in her eye.
"So it is enchanted," Harry confirmed.
"Maybe just a little," Praline winked.
"My dad would love to meet you," Ron said, "He's got a thing for bewitched Muggle stuff. He'd probably faint over your chopper." Harry and Hermione had to agree. They made their way over to the table and took their seats. The hubbub of the bar made private conversation easier as there were voices aplenty.
"So where'd you get a bike like that, anyway?" Ron asked. His speech seemed to have reverted back to normal after their first embarrassing meeting yesterday. "Did you do that work yourself?"
"No, no I didn't. Actually," Praline took a swig of beer and wiped her upper lip delicately with the end of her sleeve. "It was a gift from a friend. A very dear friend. It was the very same bike, as a matter of fact, that drove you to your aunt and uncle's house on Privet Drive when you were a baby, Harry." She stopped and let her words sink into Harry.
His eyes widened. "That's Sirius's bike!" he exclaimed. "How'd you get it? Did he give it to you?"
"When the Dementors captured him, I was living nearby his home. We had been seeing each other for quite some time so I cleaned out his house for him immediately. I knew the Ministry and Voldermort would use whatever they found in there against him. So I took the motorcycle, pictures, keepsakes, all the things I knew had meaning for him. He loved riding that bike so I just rode off on it. When he escaped from Azkaban I let him know I still had it along with everything else. He had me bring everything to Black Manor except the chopper which he said I could keep since he had Buckbeak. It's so much better than a broom really. I have to admit I'm not very fond of my broom-riding abilities." Praline finally confessed.
"You don't play Quidditch then?" Harry asked, feeling slightly disappointed.
Praline shook her head. "No, I'm afraid I sat on the sidelines for that sport. Love to watch it, can't stand to fly around on nothing but a stick of wood. I have a horrible sense of balance in the air. To be completely honest, I miss the days of flying carpets. The motorcycle's a bit more substantial, you know? But enough about my flying weakness has Harry spoken to you both about reforming the D.A.?" Both Ron and Hermione nodded and they began going over the details and the names of who was interested. Basically, all of Gryffindor Tower at the very least had wanted to attend the first meeting.
In the back of his mind, Harry was picturing his godfather flying over cities and pastures, lakes and rivers on his bewitched bike. He smiled inwardly at the mental picture. That would have been so like Sirius, he thought to himself. His godfather had never been content to sit at home and his imprisonment in his family's house towards the end of his life had seemed likely to drive him mad with frustration.
"What are you thinking about Harry?" Praline broke his reverie with her low, alto voice. "You had a smile on your face just then and you were miles away." Both Ron and Hermione stopped their conversation and looked at him; curious.
"I was just thinking about Sirius riding that bike and how he must have enjoyed it. It seems like something he would really be into," Harry mused softly, more to himself then the rest of the table. The other three smiled suddenly, the picture taking shape inside their minds as well. Praline's eyes grew very wet and she turned away for a moment to compose herself. Emptying the pint glass in a long swallow she began talking, still not looking at any of them, lost in another time and memory.
"I, I still remember our first ride on that thing. Sirius drove twelve hundred miles to pick me up in that bike. I was on assignment outside of Prague and we arranged a secret meeting. We flew all over the city that night. It was foolish, we could have gotten caught, but you do stupid, romantic things like that when you're in love. I remember we had dinner at this tiny restaurant owned by an elderly witch and wizard who loved Italian food. The place had maybe three tables in it and the maitre d' was an old man who slept in a chair by the entrance the entire time we were there. It was a perfect night. The kind you replay over and over in your head and never forget. We got to take maybe three more rides together before he was put in Azkaban but by then I was hooked." Praline stopped, gave her head a quick shake as if to clear it. "What can I say, good memories but never enough of them, right?" Her attention was focused on Harry who had been listening to her story intently while staring into his butterbeer. "Alright there, Harry?" Praline asked.
"Yea Harry, you okay?" Ron asked true concern in his voice.
"Yea, I'm fine. Actually, to tell you the truth, it feels good to hear someone talk about Sirius like this. I guess that's what I needed more than anything, was someone who knew him. Me and him, we never really got a chance to spend a lot of time with each other and when we were together, something bad was always going on. I guess I'm angry because we never got to make a go of it as a real family. I never got to do any normal stuff with him." Harry's long, rapid release surprised his two close friends. This was the most he had spoken on the matter since it happened.
"Professor, I'd like it very much if you want to tell me stories about my Sirius. He was the only real family I got to know and I'd like to learn more about him. That is, if you're willing to tell me." Harry held Praline's gaze and watched her serious scrutiny melt into a slow smile.
"I was hoping you'd say that, Harry. It's really why I came here in the first place. And outside of class, please, all of you call me Praline.
They exited the Three Broomsticks sometime later, full of butterbeer and ready to see the rest of the town. For the past couple of hours, Praline had regaled them with tales of her and Sirius at Hogwarts and after they had graduated. She had kept the subject matter intentionally light; discussing places they had gone together, adventures and minor scrapes they had escaped from. As she talked, Harry had begun to form a more coherent picture of who his godfather had been as a young man and what he had enjoyed doing. It gave him comfort to know that there was someone else who knew Sirius as well as Harry knew him, but from a different time.
"Well Sirius certainly could have given Fred and George a run for their money," Hermione mused. She smiled wistfully and gave Harry's arm a warm squeeze. There was a sense of relief lingering around Ron and Hermione. Praline had broken the silence that had formed around them in the aftermath of Sirius's death. Since last summer, Harry had spoken less and less these days; often disappearing on his own for hours at a time on weekends and preferring the quiet of his dormitory to the bustle of the Gryffindor common room. But Praline's arrival had brought with it an already noticeable improvement in their friend.
"Oh you don't realize the half of it. I still don't think Professor Sprout ever fully got over the third hand she grew out of the top of her head after Sirius, eh hem, accidentally mixed up her series of herbal medicines. He saw two weeks of detention for that one. I don't really know why though, I mean in all honesty, the hand was quite well formed. It was a good bit of magic. Perhaps he shouldn't have let her wear it all day without telling her. I don't think she appreciated the fact that granpapa was the one that finally pointed it out to her when she arrived for dinner. But he at least had the courtesy to remove it for her." They laughed at the recollection of Sprout's "special" leg while they ambled up the main street of the village, gazing in shop windows and discussing ideas for the next D.A. meeting. While Ron and Hermione fell into a discussion about which owls delivered the fastest over longer distances, Harry chose the opportunity to lag behind with Praline. "Praline, how- how did you and Snape come to be friends? I heard, I mean, I wasn't eavesdropping. Alright, maybe I was. But you called him 'old friend' in the classroom yesterday. Did you mean that? Were you really, actually friends with Snape?" Harry asked in slight disbelief.
"Professor Snape, Harry. But to answer your question, yes, Severus Snape and I at one point in our Hogwarts lives were very good friends indeed. The Houses weren't always so divided like they are now, you know. Everyone spent some time in detention, yours truly included. I made quite a few friends out of it. So did Sirius! It's how we met. Over the years, most of the time we spent talking was in detention. Outside, he was usually glued to your father's Marauders." Praline said with a smirk.
"So did Severus make a lot of friends there?" Harry asked, watching her expression for a sign.
Praline's mouth twitched; whether to hide a smile or frown, Harry could not tell. "No Harry, as far as I know, Severus made only one." She stopped suddenly, a distracted look on her face as if she had forgotten something. "I have to go Harry, I'm sorry, but I've forgotten the time and I'm supposed to be meeting a friend soon." Praline began digging through her bag searching for something.
"Alright then. Thanks for the drinks and . . . everything." Harry said uncertainly, not yet wanting to leave. A light wind blew down the avenue and loosened several wayward strands of hair from Praline's long braid. Harry fought a sudden weird urge to brush them away from her face. He had a flash of her kissing Sirius and jolted back to reality.
"Listen Harry, if you like, come by my wardrobe after dinner tonight. I have some papers to grade so I'll be in my, err, office. The room with all the poufs," she stopped digging to grin at him; then reached out and tousled his hair. "I had fun today too. You have wonderful friends, Sirius described them perfectly. See ya, Harry." With that, she turned and walked away, rounding the corner and out of sight.
Harry watched her leave, thinking about what she had said. A grin flashed across his face before he sobered up and ran to catch up with the others. It appeared as if he would be busy tonight.
"I'll catch up with you two later," Harry said as casually as he could after dinner. The three of them were leaving the Great Hall and climbing the stairs when he said it.
"Where are you going?" Ron asked, surprised.
"Harry, what is it?" Hermione asked guardedly.
He grinned back at her and clapped her shoulder gently, "It's nothing. Really, I promise I'm okay."
"So why can't you tell us where you're going then?" Hermione persisted.
"I've got a meeting with someone, that's all." Harry realized sneaking off from these two was near impossible. I bet it was like that between Sirius and my dad.
"Oh yea, so who'ya meetin?" Ron slung a friendly arm around Harry's neck. He was several inches taller than Harry but the distance between their heights was closing.
"Professor Praline, now get off," Harry said ducking out from under Ron's dangling arm. Ron stopped and gaped at him but before he could speak, Hermione jumped to Harry's rescue.
"Well have a good meeting then Harry, we won't keep you. Tell her we said hello!" At the mention of their new professor's name, Hermione definitely the more sensitive of the pair, grabbed Ron's arm and hauled him up the stairs; quietly explaining to him out of the corner of her mouth to keep him from turning back around.
Harry watched them go. He shook his head appreciatively at his friends' retreating figures. As overly-cautious as Hermione might be sometimes, she always knew how to act in certain situations. The older Harry got, the more he was grateful for her. If it wasn't for her, he would have had no idea what girls were thinking at least, most of the time.
Praline's office lay on the fourth floor of the castle near the classrooms. Harry walked down the now silent halls lit only by sputtering candles. Professor Flitwick would not renew the candle light charm until Monday and it always ran low during the weekend as the candles would be almost completely melted. He approached the classroom and saw that it was dark. Peering in through the door's window he saw a beam of soft light emitting from the wardrobe. Harry opened the door to the classroom and entered, shutting the door behind him. Walking down the rows, he heard a distinct noise and as he grew closer to the wardrobe, realized it was music. He entered the front room of the wardrobe and parted the beaded curtain into the back.
A small desk had appeared in the center of the room where his professor was sitting. A tower of parchment rolls lay on her desk but she was oblivious to it for directly in front of her lay an over-sized photo album thick with pages. She turned each one slowly; making a small murmur over some and others she merely traced their figures with a long slender finger. The music Harry had heard he now knew to be a song by a Muggle band which he himself liked. The song floated out from some unknown source and for the first time, Harry distinctly heard the lyrics:
I want to run I want to hide I want to tear down the walls That hold me inside I want to reach out And touch the flame Where the streets have no name
He found himself enjoying the song and wondered briefly why he didn't listen to more music in his free time. Tonks did like the Weird Sisters; maybe she could give him a few pointers.
"You know every time I wonder why I chose my profession. I put on U2 and I realize how horrible this world would be without Muggles." Praline had noticed him in the doorway and snapped him back. "No Muggle music, no Muggle art, no Muggle literature. No Mozart, no Renoir and no Shakespeare," Praline mused. She waved at him, "Don't just stand there in the doorway, come in and sit down. A flick of her wand and the parchments zoomed themselves off to a corner of the room. Praline tapped her wand against her desk and its lion's club feet scooted it off to an opposite side of the room. Still clutching her album tightly under her arm, she sat on a squishy red pouf and placed the heavy volume on the table. "Come, sit," she said.
Harry pulled a royal blue cushion underneath him and sat down next to her. Praline set the large book on the round ottoman and let Harry examine its cover. It was bound in rich, red leather with gilded edging. The cover read simply: P.D. beneath that was the word: Hogwarts. Harry opened the cover and found himself staring at a school photograph of a very young Praline. The little girl in the photo could only be seen from the waist down and sat smiling politely out at Harry. Suddenly, she lowered her lashes and smiled mischievously, glancing right then left. POP! A wrinkled house elf stood in her place, sticking out its tongue. POP! The little girl's body returned but in place of a head, there was an enormous yellow and white striped fish. POP! And the polite smile returned.
"Hmm, I was a bit cheeky at that age I suppose," Praline said sheepishly.
Harry examined the picture. "You look so young. Was this your first- year?" he asked.
"No, no I was a second-year when this was taken. I look a little young, I know. I was eleven," she said softly. "You started when you were ten?" he asked in surprise.
"Oy. The headmaster granted me an early enrollment at Dumbledore's request. I started doing complex magic at a very young age. I could transfigure things before I was able to understand why. I don't remember, but one day when I was four, one of the professors found me down in the kitchen. I had transfigured all the kitchen elves into cats and owls and was just happy as a lark playing with them all. They decided I needed more direction, is what they called it, and started my informal schooling then. When I was ten, they enrolled me officially as a first-year but I had really grown up in the castle living with granpapa."
"Where are your parents?" Harry asked, realizing that Dumbledore had either a son or a daughter that had bore Praline.
"They disappeared shortly after my third birthday. I don't remember a lot about them. One weekend, they left me with granpapa to go on a trip and they never came back," she said. She turned to the next page of the album before adding, "He adopted me and I lived here in the castle with him. When he foresaw the coming of the Dark Lord he erased any mention of his name from my official records. He knew any connection with my name would make me an automatic target. So I was listed as Praline Podmore during my fourth year on, just to be safe. Over time, most of the students forgot who I was related to as new students came and the older ones graduated. After I left Hogwarts I went to work for the Ministry as an unregistered. This," she said, indicating the album before them, "is one of the few things that prove my existence."
"What exactly is an 'unregistered?'" Harry asked.
"It means I'm an unregistered metamorphmagus, unregistered witch, unregistered everything. The Ministry's record of Patricia Dumbledore lists her as 'missing at three years of age and presumed dead.' Patricia Podmore has no listed family and her records list her as a shopkeeper in a town called Wittlich," Praline snorted, "Supposedly, I'm selling charmed shoes in the Rhinelands of Germany."
He snickered at her 'listed' career description and examined the next page of the album. There were several pictures on the double-spreaded page. One held a photo of a group of teenagers with their arms around each other. Harry recognized his dad, mum, Sirius, Praline and Lupin in that order, standing side by side with Peter's head sticking out well behind and above them. Like the other photo, the people in this one caroused with each other; James and Lily seemed to only have eyes for each other and were exchanging small kisses. Praline, Sirius and Lupin were busy tripping each other and taking turns in headlocks. Peter flew out from behind them, the broom he was riding precariously, explaining his sudden height. He zoomed around them once before stopping at the unsuspecting Romeo and sticking a wet, pudgy finger into James's ear.
"Git," Harry muttered.
There was a photo of a teenage Praline with Professor Dumbledore, clearly taken in his office and one of her and Sirius looking slightly awkward and dressed in formal robes.
"Ugh, our first dance. I looked like such a dweeb in that dress. I can't believe we used to dress like that and call it cool."
Harry let out a short bark of laughter. His normally cool, dark godfather was dressed in light baby blue robes that looked more at home on Gilderoy Lockhart than they did on Black. "He's dressed like Lockhart."
"Ha! Merlin's beard, I don't think he'd have wanted me to show you that one. Ah, well," she turned the page and Harry found himself face to face with his Potions master. A young Severus Snape sat under a tree near the school pond and looked mildly annoyed at the camera. Suddenly, Harry saw Snape do something he had no idea he was capable of: he laughed. Not a thin smile or one of his usual venomous snickers he saved for his poor students, but a full-bellied, side-splitting, sincere laugh. He fell over on his side, clutching his middle with skinny pale arms, completely unconscious of any sense of dignity.
"Whoa, what did you say when you were taking THAT picture," Harry asked in astonished disbelief.
"I don't know," Praline said ruefully, "I sure wish I could remember, though."
Harry gazed at the picture again. Snape did not even look like himself when he laughed. His usual pinched expression was gone and in its place was a laughing, young boy. Where did this guy go?
"He wasn't always the Snape he is now, you know. Well, maybe a little perhaps, he was a little snobbish but it wasn't like he is now. Severus, when he wanted, could be a lot of fun. Like I said before, the Houses weren't always so divided, Harry. I mean, it still was rather odd that a Gryffindor was friends with a Slytherin but I knew a lot of people from all different houses. Granpapa taught me to know everyone, including Slytherins. 'Open discourse among all walks of life is the true path to knowledge,' he used to tell me. He was right, I get most of my information now from listening to people talk," she said. "But Severus, well he was an unusual kid. Very much a loner but incredibly smart. The man is nothing short of a genius, really. High marks in all his O.W.L.S. aced his N.E.W.T.S.; he could have done anything he wanted to."
"Preferred torturing kids instead of Death Eaters, I suppose," Harry said, a slight bitter edge to his voice.
"Harry-" Praline said, and then snapped her mouth shut and fingered a picture on the opposite page. It was filled with students, all wearing Gryffindor colors and cheering wildly. In the center were James and Sirius and what must have been their Quidditch teammates, all holding aloft a giant victory cup. "That was sixth-year for them, fifth for me. They were up against Slytherin; beat them into a bloody pulp, oh, it was vicious let me tell you. I could have sworn that James avoided catching the Snitch just to give his teammates a chance to run Slytherin into the ground. They ran the score up 85 to 15, Gryffindor, before James swooped in and caught it. That was a great day. That kind of day is the type I like to remember. Funny, how I hadn't thought of it in a long while."
They flipped pages in silence for a while, turning past photos of parties, her & Sirius, the Marauders, James and Lily and other school-related moments. Midway through, Harry stopped at a page bearing one slightly larger photo of Praline. It was her, probably as a fifth-year (she looked about twelve years old) holding a glass jar close to her face and peering at its contents intently. The shot was a casual photo with a large portion of the room caught in the background. One table back sat a dark, greasy- haired, teenage boy who seemed to have been watching Praline rather intently. The look on Severus's face was impossible to deny.
Harry looked up in amazement. "Did Snape like you? I mean, did he really like you?" This was too much. Sirius and Severus like the same girl? Wasn't it bad enough they had tormented him outside of class? Harry didn't know what to think of his Potions master anymore. He felt pity for Snape, that was true, but it didn't right the wrongs the professor had done to him in the past. Harry was not James Potter, he hadn't committed those deeds, and he should not be the one to suffer for it!
"I don't know," Praline said a little too casually, "but if he did, he never mentioned it to me. And he certainly didn't show it in the end."
"That doesn't surprise me," Harry quipped, "I imagine you need a heart to do that sort of thing."
"We're all given different experiences in our lives Harry, some of us are raised with love and compassion, others are not so lucky. Severus was a product of his environment and it was one full of anger and resentment and prejudice. He fought it as best he could but sometimes things made it hard for him to do so," she paused, "but he is as loyal a member of the Order as there ever was. You remember that Harry. Dumbledore is sure of it and so am I. There has been many a time where he could have revealed me to the Dark Lord and never did."
Harry pondered her words. "So what made you both so mad that you stopped speaking to one another? I mean, you both had some kind of falling out? Was he mad about Sirius?" Harry asked. He knew he was asking all kinds of impolite questions but she had invited him here and he felt it was now his right. She had to have known I would ask, wouldn't she, he thought to himself.
Praline sat for a while staring at a picture of her and Snape, standing on the stairs leading up to Hogwarts castle. In the shot, a stiff Snape and Praline (who looked equally as uncomfortable) stood side-by-side. Each held a small Winner's Cup in their hands. Neither looked particularly pleased at being photographed together as there was a considerable amount of space between them. The caption below the picture read:
Students of the Year:
Potions: Severus Snape (6)
DADA: Praline Podmore (5)
"Harry, I think there's something I need to show you," Praline said suddenly. She rose from her pouf and went to the front room of the wardrobe. When she returned, she held a large stone bowl in both her arms. Harry thought he knew what it was, a Pensieve; Dumbledore had one in his office. The bowl in Praline's arms, however, was decorated in similar designs but was painted in a shimmering blue. Setting the bowl on the ottoman, she drew her wand and placed it to her head, drawing out a slivery- looking thread of something fluid and placing it into the Pensieve. She did this several times in a row and then turned towards Harry.
"Well, don't look at me, Harry, I know you've done this before," she said wryly.
Chapter Three
Saturday morning dawned clear and sunny, and a gentle breeze rustled the treetops on the school grounds. The unusual heat wave had broken and mild weather made for easy Hogsmeade walking. After breakfast, Harry, Ron and Hermione along with all the eligible students, filed past Filtch the caretaker as he meticulously marked them off his piece of parchment. Filtch waved them through without trouble today and the three stepped out into the sunlight and fresh air. For Harry, the day seemed full of possibility and he found himself looking forward to their Hogsmeade visit more so than he had in quite some time. It was weird, since Sirius died; simple things that had always excited him seemed now to be trivial. But a quick look at Ron and Hermione and Harry decided he was going to try and have a nice time today. The both of them had been watching him closely lately, concern apparent on their faces. They couldn't begin to imagine losing a parent and they could not even court the thought of what it would feel like to lose both and a godfather on top of that. So they stood steadfast by their friend, offering support whenever he seemed to need it and distraction when necessary. More than ever, Harry realized how vital that was to him now; and more than ever, it also scared him.
Scared him enough to tackle Occlumency with a new fervor. After Voldermort used Sirius to draw Harry out, Harry vowed it would never happen again. Already (with much practice, that is) the dreams had massively subsided. They had not stopped completely, but when they took place, they did not result in his vomiting over the side of his bed as the dreams had in the past. But he tried to put all that out of his mind as he made his way down the road with Ron and Hermione.
"I really have a lot to do today," Hermione said as she counted counted off her errands on her fingers. "I need parchment. I'd like to get a new quill. Crookshanks needs a new collar, he lost his old one."
"You'd like to kick back and relax for thirty seconds. Hey. Should we put that on the schedule before or after we buy the collar," Ron teased. His comment was met with a smirk which only encouraged him. "I'll take that as before. As a matter of fact, I'll take that as a 'we should kick back right now!'" Nodding at Harry they each stepped to one side of Hermione and grabbed hold of an arm. She protested only mildly as they steered her towards the Three Broomsticks, through its doors and into its comfy dim interior.
Once inside the tavern, they headed for the bar and waited for the bar keep to take their orders. They didn't see Professor Praline come up behind them and signal the bartender for a round on her.
"Put it on my tab, Erlo," she said as he set down their butterbeers before them. The three of them whirled around and found Praline standing before them; as usual, a grin on her heart-shaped face.
"Wanna join me? I've got a table and it's a very precious commodity right now." True to her word, the seating area was brimming with students and townsfolk, alike. Praline gestured towards a large table in the back. Her spacious, black backpack lay on top, marking her territory and claiming the table as her own.
"Aren't you afraid someone might steal your bag," Hermione asked anxiously.
"I pity anyone that tries to touch that bag without my permission," Praline said with a mischievous gleam in her eye.
"So it is enchanted," Harry confirmed.
"Maybe just a little," Praline winked.
"My dad would love to meet you," Ron said, "He's got a thing for bewitched Muggle stuff. He'd probably faint over your chopper." Harry and Hermione had to agree. They made their way over to the table and took their seats. The hubbub of the bar made private conversation easier as there were voices aplenty.
"So where'd you get a bike like that, anyway?" Ron asked. His speech seemed to have reverted back to normal after their first embarrassing meeting yesterday. "Did you do that work yourself?"
"No, no I didn't. Actually," Praline took a swig of beer and wiped her upper lip delicately with the end of her sleeve. "It was a gift from a friend. A very dear friend. It was the very same bike, as a matter of fact, that drove you to your aunt and uncle's house on Privet Drive when you were a baby, Harry." She stopped and let her words sink into Harry.
His eyes widened. "That's Sirius's bike!" he exclaimed. "How'd you get it? Did he give it to you?"
"When the Dementors captured him, I was living nearby his home. We had been seeing each other for quite some time so I cleaned out his house for him immediately. I knew the Ministry and Voldermort would use whatever they found in there against him. So I took the motorcycle, pictures, keepsakes, all the things I knew had meaning for him. He loved riding that bike so I just rode off on it. When he escaped from Azkaban I let him know I still had it along with everything else. He had me bring everything to Black Manor except the chopper which he said I could keep since he had Buckbeak. It's so much better than a broom really. I have to admit I'm not very fond of my broom-riding abilities." Praline finally confessed.
"You don't play Quidditch then?" Harry asked, feeling slightly disappointed.
Praline shook her head. "No, I'm afraid I sat on the sidelines for that sport. Love to watch it, can't stand to fly around on nothing but a stick of wood. I have a horrible sense of balance in the air. To be completely honest, I miss the days of flying carpets. The motorcycle's a bit more substantial, you know? But enough about my flying weakness has Harry spoken to you both about reforming the D.A.?" Both Ron and Hermione nodded and they began going over the details and the names of who was interested. Basically, all of Gryffindor Tower at the very least had wanted to attend the first meeting.
In the back of his mind, Harry was picturing his godfather flying over cities and pastures, lakes and rivers on his bewitched bike. He smiled inwardly at the mental picture. That would have been so like Sirius, he thought to himself. His godfather had never been content to sit at home and his imprisonment in his family's house towards the end of his life had seemed likely to drive him mad with frustration.
"What are you thinking about Harry?" Praline broke his reverie with her low, alto voice. "You had a smile on your face just then and you were miles away." Both Ron and Hermione stopped their conversation and looked at him; curious.
"I was just thinking about Sirius riding that bike and how he must have enjoyed it. It seems like something he would really be into," Harry mused softly, more to himself then the rest of the table. The other three smiled suddenly, the picture taking shape inside their minds as well. Praline's eyes grew very wet and she turned away for a moment to compose herself. Emptying the pint glass in a long swallow she began talking, still not looking at any of them, lost in another time and memory.
"I, I still remember our first ride on that thing. Sirius drove twelve hundred miles to pick me up in that bike. I was on assignment outside of Prague and we arranged a secret meeting. We flew all over the city that night. It was foolish, we could have gotten caught, but you do stupid, romantic things like that when you're in love. I remember we had dinner at this tiny restaurant owned by an elderly witch and wizard who loved Italian food. The place had maybe three tables in it and the maitre d' was an old man who slept in a chair by the entrance the entire time we were there. It was a perfect night. The kind you replay over and over in your head and never forget. We got to take maybe three more rides together before he was put in Azkaban but by then I was hooked." Praline stopped, gave her head a quick shake as if to clear it. "What can I say, good memories but never enough of them, right?" Her attention was focused on Harry who had been listening to her story intently while staring into his butterbeer. "Alright there, Harry?" Praline asked.
"Yea Harry, you okay?" Ron asked true concern in his voice.
"Yea, I'm fine. Actually, to tell you the truth, it feels good to hear someone talk about Sirius like this. I guess that's what I needed more than anything, was someone who knew him. Me and him, we never really got a chance to spend a lot of time with each other and when we were together, something bad was always going on. I guess I'm angry because we never got to make a go of it as a real family. I never got to do any normal stuff with him." Harry's long, rapid release surprised his two close friends. This was the most he had spoken on the matter since it happened.
"Professor, I'd like it very much if you want to tell me stories about my Sirius. He was the only real family I got to know and I'd like to learn more about him. That is, if you're willing to tell me." Harry held Praline's gaze and watched her serious scrutiny melt into a slow smile.
"I was hoping you'd say that, Harry. It's really why I came here in the first place. And outside of class, please, all of you call me Praline.
They exited the Three Broomsticks sometime later, full of butterbeer and ready to see the rest of the town. For the past couple of hours, Praline had regaled them with tales of her and Sirius at Hogwarts and after they had graduated. She had kept the subject matter intentionally light; discussing places they had gone together, adventures and minor scrapes they had escaped from. As she talked, Harry had begun to form a more coherent picture of who his godfather had been as a young man and what he had enjoyed doing. It gave him comfort to know that there was someone else who knew Sirius as well as Harry knew him, but from a different time.
"Well Sirius certainly could have given Fred and George a run for their money," Hermione mused. She smiled wistfully and gave Harry's arm a warm squeeze. There was a sense of relief lingering around Ron and Hermione. Praline had broken the silence that had formed around them in the aftermath of Sirius's death. Since last summer, Harry had spoken less and less these days; often disappearing on his own for hours at a time on weekends and preferring the quiet of his dormitory to the bustle of the Gryffindor common room. But Praline's arrival had brought with it an already noticeable improvement in their friend.
"Oh you don't realize the half of it. I still don't think Professor Sprout ever fully got over the third hand she grew out of the top of her head after Sirius, eh hem, accidentally mixed up her series of herbal medicines. He saw two weeks of detention for that one. I don't really know why though, I mean in all honesty, the hand was quite well formed. It was a good bit of magic. Perhaps he shouldn't have let her wear it all day without telling her. I don't think she appreciated the fact that granpapa was the one that finally pointed it out to her when she arrived for dinner. But he at least had the courtesy to remove it for her." They laughed at the recollection of Sprout's "special" leg while they ambled up the main street of the village, gazing in shop windows and discussing ideas for the next D.A. meeting. While Ron and Hermione fell into a discussion about which owls delivered the fastest over longer distances, Harry chose the opportunity to lag behind with Praline. "Praline, how- how did you and Snape come to be friends? I heard, I mean, I wasn't eavesdropping. Alright, maybe I was. But you called him 'old friend' in the classroom yesterday. Did you mean that? Were you really, actually friends with Snape?" Harry asked in slight disbelief.
"Professor Snape, Harry. But to answer your question, yes, Severus Snape and I at one point in our Hogwarts lives were very good friends indeed. The Houses weren't always so divided like they are now, you know. Everyone spent some time in detention, yours truly included. I made quite a few friends out of it. So did Sirius! It's how we met. Over the years, most of the time we spent talking was in detention. Outside, he was usually glued to your father's Marauders." Praline said with a smirk.
"So did Severus make a lot of friends there?" Harry asked, watching her expression for a sign.
Praline's mouth twitched; whether to hide a smile or frown, Harry could not tell. "No Harry, as far as I know, Severus made only one." She stopped suddenly, a distracted look on her face as if she had forgotten something. "I have to go Harry, I'm sorry, but I've forgotten the time and I'm supposed to be meeting a friend soon." Praline began digging through her bag searching for something.
"Alright then. Thanks for the drinks and . . . everything." Harry said uncertainly, not yet wanting to leave. A light wind blew down the avenue and loosened several wayward strands of hair from Praline's long braid. Harry fought a sudden weird urge to brush them away from her face. He had a flash of her kissing Sirius and jolted back to reality.
"Listen Harry, if you like, come by my wardrobe after dinner tonight. I have some papers to grade so I'll be in my, err, office. The room with all the poufs," she stopped digging to grin at him; then reached out and tousled his hair. "I had fun today too. You have wonderful friends, Sirius described them perfectly. See ya, Harry." With that, she turned and walked away, rounding the corner and out of sight.
Harry watched her leave, thinking about what she had said. A grin flashed across his face before he sobered up and ran to catch up with the others. It appeared as if he would be busy tonight.
"I'll catch up with you two later," Harry said as casually as he could after dinner. The three of them were leaving the Great Hall and climbing the stairs when he said it.
"Where are you going?" Ron asked, surprised.
"Harry, what is it?" Hermione asked guardedly.
He grinned back at her and clapped her shoulder gently, "It's nothing. Really, I promise I'm okay."
"So why can't you tell us where you're going then?" Hermione persisted.
"I've got a meeting with someone, that's all." Harry realized sneaking off from these two was near impossible. I bet it was like that between Sirius and my dad.
"Oh yea, so who'ya meetin?" Ron slung a friendly arm around Harry's neck. He was several inches taller than Harry but the distance between their heights was closing.
"Professor Praline, now get off," Harry said ducking out from under Ron's dangling arm. Ron stopped and gaped at him but before he could speak, Hermione jumped to Harry's rescue.
"Well have a good meeting then Harry, we won't keep you. Tell her we said hello!" At the mention of their new professor's name, Hermione definitely the more sensitive of the pair, grabbed Ron's arm and hauled him up the stairs; quietly explaining to him out of the corner of her mouth to keep him from turning back around.
Harry watched them go. He shook his head appreciatively at his friends' retreating figures. As overly-cautious as Hermione might be sometimes, she always knew how to act in certain situations. The older Harry got, the more he was grateful for her. If it wasn't for her, he would have had no idea what girls were thinking at least, most of the time.
Praline's office lay on the fourth floor of the castle near the classrooms. Harry walked down the now silent halls lit only by sputtering candles. Professor Flitwick would not renew the candle light charm until Monday and it always ran low during the weekend as the candles would be almost completely melted. He approached the classroom and saw that it was dark. Peering in through the door's window he saw a beam of soft light emitting from the wardrobe. Harry opened the door to the classroom and entered, shutting the door behind him. Walking down the rows, he heard a distinct noise and as he grew closer to the wardrobe, realized it was music. He entered the front room of the wardrobe and parted the beaded curtain into the back.
A small desk had appeared in the center of the room where his professor was sitting. A tower of parchment rolls lay on her desk but she was oblivious to it for directly in front of her lay an over-sized photo album thick with pages. She turned each one slowly; making a small murmur over some and others she merely traced their figures with a long slender finger. The music Harry had heard he now knew to be a song by a Muggle band which he himself liked. The song floated out from some unknown source and for the first time, Harry distinctly heard the lyrics:
I want to run I want to hide I want to tear down the walls That hold me inside I want to reach out And touch the flame Where the streets have no name
He found himself enjoying the song and wondered briefly why he didn't listen to more music in his free time. Tonks did like the Weird Sisters; maybe she could give him a few pointers.
"You know every time I wonder why I chose my profession. I put on U2 and I realize how horrible this world would be without Muggles." Praline had noticed him in the doorway and snapped him back. "No Muggle music, no Muggle art, no Muggle literature. No Mozart, no Renoir and no Shakespeare," Praline mused. She waved at him, "Don't just stand there in the doorway, come in and sit down. A flick of her wand and the parchments zoomed themselves off to a corner of the room. Praline tapped her wand against her desk and its lion's club feet scooted it off to an opposite side of the room. Still clutching her album tightly under her arm, she sat on a squishy red pouf and placed the heavy volume on the table. "Come, sit," she said.
Harry pulled a royal blue cushion underneath him and sat down next to her. Praline set the large book on the round ottoman and let Harry examine its cover. It was bound in rich, red leather with gilded edging. The cover read simply: P.D. beneath that was the word: Hogwarts. Harry opened the cover and found himself staring at a school photograph of a very young Praline. The little girl in the photo could only be seen from the waist down and sat smiling politely out at Harry. Suddenly, she lowered her lashes and smiled mischievously, glancing right then left. POP! A wrinkled house elf stood in her place, sticking out its tongue. POP! The little girl's body returned but in place of a head, there was an enormous yellow and white striped fish. POP! And the polite smile returned.
"Hmm, I was a bit cheeky at that age I suppose," Praline said sheepishly.
Harry examined the picture. "You look so young. Was this your first- year?" he asked.
"No, no I was a second-year when this was taken. I look a little young, I know. I was eleven," she said softly. "You started when you were ten?" he asked in surprise.
"Oy. The headmaster granted me an early enrollment at Dumbledore's request. I started doing complex magic at a very young age. I could transfigure things before I was able to understand why. I don't remember, but one day when I was four, one of the professors found me down in the kitchen. I had transfigured all the kitchen elves into cats and owls and was just happy as a lark playing with them all. They decided I needed more direction, is what they called it, and started my informal schooling then. When I was ten, they enrolled me officially as a first-year but I had really grown up in the castle living with granpapa."
"Where are your parents?" Harry asked, realizing that Dumbledore had either a son or a daughter that had bore Praline.
"They disappeared shortly after my third birthday. I don't remember a lot about them. One weekend, they left me with granpapa to go on a trip and they never came back," she said. She turned to the next page of the album before adding, "He adopted me and I lived here in the castle with him. When he foresaw the coming of the Dark Lord he erased any mention of his name from my official records. He knew any connection with my name would make me an automatic target. So I was listed as Praline Podmore during my fourth year on, just to be safe. Over time, most of the students forgot who I was related to as new students came and the older ones graduated. After I left Hogwarts I went to work for the Ministry as an unregistered. This," she said, indicating the album before them, "is one of the few things that prove my existence."
"What exactly is an 'unregistered?'" Harry asked.
"It means I'm an unregistered metamorphmagus, unregistered witch, unregistered everything. The Ministry's record of Patricia Dumbledore lists her as 'missing at three years of age and presumed dead.' Patricia Podmore has no listed family and her records list her as a shopkeeper in a town called Wittlich," Praline snorted, "Supposedly, I'm selling charmed shoes in the Rhinelands of Germany."
He snickered at her 'listed' career description and examined the next page of the album. There were several pictures on the double-spreaded page. One held a photo of a group of teenagers with their arms around each other. Harry recognized his dad, mum, Sirius, Praline and Lupin in that order, standing side by side with Peter's head sticking out well behind and above them. Like the other photo, the people in this one caroused with each other; James and Lily seemed to only have eyes for each other and were exchanging small kisses. Praline, Sirius and Lupin were busy tripping each other and taking turns in headlocks. Peter flew out from behind them, the broom he was riding precariously, explaining his sudden height. He zoomed around them once before stopping at the unsuspecting Romeo and sticking a wet, pudgy finger into James's ear.
"Git," Harry muttered.
There was a photo of a teenage Praline with Professor Dumbledore, clearly taken in his office and one of her and Sirius looking slightly awkward and dressed in formal robes.
"Ugh, our first dance. I looked like such a dweeb in that dress. I can't believe we used to dress like that and call it cool."
Harry let out a short bark of laughter. His normally cool, dark godfather was dressed in light baby blue robes that looked more at home on Gilderoy Lockhart than they did on Black. "He's dressed like Lockhart."
"Ha! Merlin's beard, I don't think he'd have wanted me to show you that one. Ah, well," she turned the page and Harry found himself face to face with his Potions master. A young Severus Snape sat under a tree near the school pond and looked mildly annoyed at the camera. Suddenly, Harry saw Snape do something he had no idea he was capable of: he laughed. Not a thin smile or one of his usual venomous snickers he saved for his poor students, but a full-bellied, side-splitting, sincere laugh. He fell over on his side, clutching his middle with skinny pale arms, completely unconscious of any sense of dignity.
"Whoa, what did you say when you were taking THAT picture," Harry asked in astonished disbelief.
"I don't know," Praline said ruefully, "I sure wish I could remember, though."
Harry gazed at the picture again. Snape did not even look like himself when he laughed. His usual pinched expression was gone and in its place was a laughing, young boy. Where did this guy go?
"He wasn't always the Snape he is now, you know. Well, maybe a little perhaps, he was a little snobbish but it wasn't like he is now. Severus, when he wanted, could be a lot of fun. Like I said before, the Houses weren't always so divided, Harry. I mean, it still was rather odd that a Gryffindor was friends with a Slytherin but I knew a lot of people from all different houses. Granpapa taught me to know everyone, including Slytherins. 'Open discourse among all walks of life is the true path to knowledge,' he used to tell me. He was right, I get most of my information now from listening to people talk," she said. "But Severus, well he was an unusual kid. Very much a loner but incredibly smart. The man is nothing short of a genius, really. High marks in all his O.W.L.S. aced his N.E.W.T.S.; he could have done anything he wanted to."
"Preferred torturing kids instead of Death Eaters, I suppose," Harry said, a slight bitter edge to his voice.
"Harry-" Praline said, and then snapped her mouth shut and fingered a picture on the opposite page. It was filled with students, all wearing Gryffindor colors and cheering wildly. In the center were James and Sirius and what must have been their Quidditch teammates, all holding aloft a giant victory cup. "That was sixth-year for them, fifth for me. They were up against Slytherin; beat them into a bloody pulp, oh, it was vicious let me tell you. I could have sworn that James avoided catching the Snitch just to give his teammates a chance to run Slytherin into the ground. They ran the score up 85 to 15, Gryffindor, before James swooped in and caught it. That was a great day. That kind of day is the type I like to remember. Funny, how I hadn't thought of it in a long while."
They flipped pages in silence for a while, turning past photos of parties, her & Sirius, the Marauders, James and Lily and other school-related moments. Midway through, Harry stopped at a page bearing one slightly larger photo of Praline. It was her, probably as a fifth-year (she looked about twelve years old) holding a glass jar close to her face and peering at its contents intently. The shot was a casual photo with a large portion of the room caught in the background. One table back sat a dark, greasy- haired, teenage boy who seemed to have been watching Praline rather intently. The look on Severus's face was impossible to deny.
Harry looked up in amazement. "Did Snape like you? I mean, did he really like you?" This was too much. Sirius and Severus like the same girl? Wasn't it bad enough they had tormented him outside of class? Harry didn't know what to think of his Potions master anymore. He felt pity for Snape, that was true, but it didn't right the wrongs the professor had done to him in the past. Harry was not James Potter, he hadn't committed those deeds, and he should not be the one to suffer for it!
"I don't know," Praline said a little too casually, "but if he did, he never mentioned it to me. And he certainly didn't show it in the end."
"That doesn't surprise me," Harry quipped, "I imagine you need a heart to do that sort of thing."
"We're all given different experiences in our lives Harry, some of us are raised with love and compassion, others are not so lucky. Severus was a product of his environment and it was one full of anger and resentment and prejudice. He fought it as best he could but sometimes things made it hard for him to do so," she paused, "but he is as loyal a member of the Order as there ever was. You remember that Harry. Dumbledore is sure of it and so am I. There has been many a time where he could have revealed me to the Dark Lord and never did."
Harry pondered her words. "So what made you both so mad that you stopped speaking to one another? I mean, you both had some kind of falling out? Was he mad about Sirius?" Harry asked. He knew he was asking all kinds of impolite questions but she had invited him here and he felt it was now his right. She had to have known I would ask, wouldn't she, he thought to himself.
Praline sat for a while staring at a picture of her and Snape, standing on the stairs leading up to Hogwarts castle. In the shot, a stiff Snape and Praline (who looked equally as uncomfortable) stood side-by-side. Each held a small Winner's Cup in their hands. Neither looked particularly pleased at being photographed together as there was a considerable amount of space between them. The caption below the picture read:
Students of the Year:
Potions: Severus Snape (6)
DADA: Praline Podmore (5)
"Harry, I think there's something I need to show you," Praline said suddenly. She rose from her pouf and went to the front room of the wardrobe. When she returned, she held a large stone bowl in both her arms. Harry thought he knew what it was, a Pensieve; Dumbledore had one in his office. The bowl in Praline's arms, however, was decorated in similar designs but was painted in a shimmering blue. Setting the bowl on the ottoman, she drew her wand and placed it to her head, drawing out a slivery- looking thread of something fluid and placing it into the Pensieve. She did this several times in a row and then turned towards Harry.
"Well, don't look at me, Harry, I know you've done this before," she said wryly.