This is a new chapter, betaed by Barbara
Sorry for the delay. It wasn't my fault, but of ff.net. I can't upload it for days.
I hope you'll enjoy it, and I will have some rough time again: two exams (17th and 18th of Juny, so I think I will uload only one chapter until then).
Will you leave me after the 21th of Juny?
Thanks for all who reviewed.
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Chapter 10 - Questions and answers
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"Clean up the Spitters' place, and you are free," Hagrid smiled at him. "You can use magic," he added and left Harry alone with the lazy and indifferent animals.
Harry frowned. Severus, as always, fulfilled his promise to give the proper detention, he could never skip any of them. He had already four detentions this year: the first for the potions lesson's explosion, the second for Ron's broken nose and this, the third for running in the corridor, and the fourth for Malfoy's well-deserved beating. Harry surprisingly realised that his behaviour tended to be more rule-breaking and aggressive than the past Harry's. He had never hit anybody before and now, in two months he'd had already two fights.
He didn't like this tendency. If he wasn't enough cautious he really should go to St Brutus' to learn self-control. St Brutus - the thought of the school made him think of the Dursleys. He would probably never return to Privet Drive, he would never again see the family, which despised him to no end, which ignored him and treated him as a freak, a good-for-nothing boy. The contrast between them and Severus was so strong that Harry became ashamed for thinking that his stepfather wanted to shut him out of his life. Severus never shut him out. Severus, instead, let him in, loved him, cared for him, talked to him, bought him clothes, books, a brand new brewing set ('for advanced brewers and potions masters' was written on the box, Harry had even asked Severus if he had bought it for himself) and butterbeer and sweets every time they went to Hogsmeade, guarded his sleep, consoled him after his nightmares, helped him in his studies if he needed a tutor, and on the top of all he was proud of him in front of the whole school.
He had been stupid, when he had thought that Severus had intended to shut him out.
But there was something between them, which was unspoken and it disturbed Harry to no end.
Harry adjusted his robes as he turned to clean the yard after he finished the stabling. The air was clear, but icy and acid-like cold wind blew from North. It was the last week of November.
As he left the building his eyes caught a thin figure standing in the back of the yard. The man or woman was leaning on the fence tiredly, his head was hooded and lowered to the cold wood of the fence.
Harry forgot his work and stepped to the exhausted figure cautiously clearing his throat.
"Uhm. May I help you?"
The head was lifted from the fence and now the eyes were on Harry. It was Janus' sister, Leah. As they looked at each other, Leah blushed violently and averted his gaze as fast as she could. Harry got embarrassed by a sudden, unsure feeling, much like that he had sensed the previous year, whenever he had seen Cho.
"No, thanks," the girl whispered, but she didn't move.
Harry, vaguely, tapped his legs and he didn't know what to say, how to go on with the conversation or whether he had to go on at all. But then Leah looked at him again.
"What are you doing here?" she asked with a serious expression.
"Cleaning the Spitters' yard," he shrugged. "Detention."
This time the girl looked at him straightway, seemingly dumbfounded.
"Detention? You?" She shook her head. "Who gave it?"
"Professor Snape," Harry grinned.
The girl's recoiling turned into a deep bewilderment.
"You're joking."
"Not at all," Harry's grin went ear to ear. "I beat up one of his precious Slytherins."
"Oh, that!" Leah cracked a weak smile. "Janus told me. You had a fight with Malfoy about Zabini, hadn't you?"
"I see you have spies amongst the Slytherins."
"Just as my brother has his spy amongst the Hufflepuffs," this time Leah's smile widened into a genuine one. "And you have your secret agents in both Gryffindor and Slytherins."
"Don't let out the Ravenclaws!" Harry chuckled.
"Why?"
"Professor Flitwick is the head of that house."
"He too works for you?"
"Oh, yes. His life's main aim to persuade father to allow me into his house," Harry winked at her and leaning closer to her he whispered quietly. "The only thing I miss is a double agent in Hufflepuff."
"Then I have to inform you, Mr Snape, you won't find anybody amongst us, who would work for you. Our house is well-known for our loyalty."
"Loyalty, I understand. But to whom?"
"I'm loyal to everybody I respect or love."
"And how do you feel about your house?"
"I respect its traditions," Leah said in a totally serious tone.
"You are too earnest, aren't you?"
"Always."
Harry smirked evilly.
"And what about that little giggling in the greenhouse during the Herbology classes?"
Leah blushed again, her freckles were burning on her pale face, his deep blue eyes shone with chagrin. She lowered her head and her hair fell ahead her face, it was mahogany-coloured and silky.
The next moment Harry stated to himself that she was beautiful. Then a moment later he became so uncomfortable with his feelings that he stepped back and stuttered shyly.
"Sorry, I have to finish my job," and turning on his heels he left the girl alone.
A soft noise stopped him. He looked around and he saw Leah climbing into the yard.
"Would you mind if I help you?" she asked and Harry couldn't help but nod.
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He was still breathing erratically when he arrived home. He was grinning broadly and felt excited and full of energy so that he wanted to jump or run or beat somebody, anybody...
Severus, on the contrary wasn't happy.
"Tomorrow the aurors will come and check the students again," he said heavily. Harry paled and the previous happy feeling disappeared as if it had never been.
"But Mr Patil will be here again, won't he?" Harry asked hopefully.
"No," Severus shook his head. "He is abroad. He went to France to an international meeting."
Harry trembled. It sounded very bad.
When the aurors had checked the students in September Patil, as the Ministry's clerk had attended all the Slytherins' questioning, including Harry's, mostly for Severus' request. This way everybody had avoided the uncomfortable situations and the unnecessary rudeness. That had been the reason why Harry had passed the cheks so quickly.
Harry stumbled to the chair and sank onto it.
"So we can count on the worst..." he sighed. "And again the problem of my cuts. What should I tell them? Accident?"
"Yes, I think that would be the best." The Potions Master looked at his hands wearily. "As we agreed last time."
"Okay," Harry glanced at him intensely. "You are nervous, aren't you?"
"Of course. They will molest my house as well as you. I want it to be over with."
"So do I."
The night after the bad news was dreadful again, full of fears, then nightmares, and while Harry calmed down enough to sleep normally he had a nasty vision too. As a result of it both he and Severus were dead on their feet the next morning. Harry could barely get dressed and even decided to miss the breakfast, because of the trembling of his hands. The first half of the day, however, passed in its normal way, the Gryffindor house was the last to be examined, and the fifth year's turn arrived after the Care of Magical Creatures in the afternoon. For that time Harry became calmer, he had lunch and even talked to Severus, who assured him about the aurors' relative kindness today.
He was almost relaxed when it came to him. The examination took part in an empty classroom in the third floor, close to the Headmaster's office. They were waiting to their turn in the corridor, chattering, and the row moved on quickly. Seemingly, the aurors wanted to get through with it as fast as possible, so they only cast the Revelo spell, asked some idle questions and that was that.
Harry yawned and felt half-asleep when, finally, he got in.
Two aurors were sitting behind a desk in the shady room lightened only by a torch, which was set to shadow the sitting figures. One of them scribbling neatly on a piece of parchment, the other was sipping tea from a cup.
"Name?" asked the scribbling man.
"Quietus Snape," Harry answered obediently.
The man lifted his gaze from the parchment and looked at him.
Their eyes locked.
Harry, again, was compelled to face with hatred, with pure, unconcealed hatred akin Ron's. Yes, Ron's, and it wasn't a mere chance.
In front of him sat Percy, his mouth slowly curving into a sinister smile.
"Snape," he repeated Harry's word.
The other auror nearly dropped his cup in surprise. Harry recognised him too, he graduated one year before Percy, he was a Ravenclaw prefect in his seventh year, but Harry didn't remember his name.
"Are you related to Severus Snape for instance?" the man asked him. Percy's eye flashed expectantly.
Harry knew precisely what was about to happen.
"Yes," he said resigned.
"Our local Death Eater's son," whispered Percy to the other boy loud enough for Harry to understand.
"My father is NOT a Death Eater," Harry hissed and narrowed his eyes dangerously.
"Once a Death Eater always a Death Eater, Mr Snape," Percy frowned. "Your sleeves. Tuck them up. Now."
Harry didn't like the ordering tone, but he didn't protest. It would be useless and he wanted to get out of the room as soon as possible. He looked at his arms expectantly. Now they seemed normal and flawless, but just as the Revelo would hit them, all the scars would become visible, clearly visible again. Harry hadn't seen them for three weeks, the last time was when Severus checked them one week after his vision with Avery. He sighed and lifted his head, expectantly.
"Revelo," the ex-Ravenclaw said.
Slowly, pink lines began to appear on his arms like the ink-drawings on the Marauders' Map after the use of the proper password. The only difference was that Harry's cuts didn't form even the perfect map of the London Underground as Dumbledore's famous scar above his left knee did let alone that of Hogwarts. His scars were mementos and reminders of more important things, which Harry received in Nightmare Manor: the importance of dignity, humanity, repression, forgetfulness, tradition, love and family; scars, which bound him to Voldemort like his other scar on his forehead, now hidden beneath his hair, to make him remember and didn't allow him to forget...
"Where are these scars from?" Percy asked, his expression was unreadable. But his tone! Clear sadism.
"It was a car accident. The wind-screen broke and fell on me."
Harry himself wasn't sure that it sounded convincing enough.
"When?" the next question snapped.
"In the summer."
"Really? They are healing surprisingly slowly!"
Harry could hear the disbelief in Percy's voice. He lowered his head and pointed his eyes to the ground.
"I was treated in a muggle hospital."
Percy stepped to him.
"Hold out your arm," the young auror ordered categorically.
Harry sighed and did what he was ordered.
"They seem to me rather new," a disdainful smirk appeared on Percy's face. "How long have you been cutting yourself?"
Harry's eyes widened in realisation.
"I'm not cutting myself. I'm not suicidal."
"Aren't you? Let's see then. You said that windscreen fell onto you. I suppose you have other scars then."
Harry's embarrassment grew into a shame.
"I don't think it's your business," he moaned through his narrowed throat.
"Remove your clothes!" Percy yelled aggressively.
"No."
"Remove them NOW or I will resort to violence."
"You have no right to give me orders like this," Harry said and wondered if he really had known this boy previously. Well, Percy always had been narrow- minded and strict, but Harry didn't remember to see him aggressive or abusive. Perhaps because he had never been Snape's son to him previously, and Percy hadn't known about Snape's past either. Not to mention that Percy hadn't been an auror before, and the Ministry's training had the strength to corrupt anybody who wasn't human enough to resist the offered power to control the others.
"I'm here the Ministry's representative and your father is a Death Eater. You are under suspicion of following his activity, so I can give you orders if I see it necessary and now I see."
Harry folded his arms over his chest and lifting his head looked at Percy straightly.
"I won't remove my robes. My father has not been a Death Eater for more than sixteen years and you can't accuse me..." he couldn't continue. A strong blow on his face sent him onto the floor. As he reached his hand to his mouth he felt something wet. Blood. He lifted his gaze in awe.
Was this really the Percy he had known for years, whose family had been always like his own?
What happened? What caused this sudden change?
Harry shook his head to clear his vision, but he felt dizzy.
"So? Do you remove your robes or I have to go on..." Percy hissed menacingly.
Harry stood up and dusted his robes. Dignity, he reminded himself.
"I won't. And I will report you to the Ministry," he said calmly.
"Oh, will you? I'm happy to hear it. At least your case will be thoroughly examined."
The blood ran away from Harry's face. No. He didn't need those examinations.
"So. Remove your clothes now, or I will remove from you, but then you won't be able to wear them any more," Percy said and pointed his wand to him.
Harry didn't move, just stared at Percy as firmly as he could in that situation.
"Stupefy!" Percy said and the curse hit Harry on his stomach. He fell on his knees and felt numbly as the man pulled his robes through his head from him. He trembled. It was chilly in the room and he was kneeling exposed and half-naked in front of two curious and cruel pair of eyes.
When Percy leaned closer and ran his hand down on a long cut, Harry groaned in disgust.
"Don't touch me!" he hissed.
"I can do anything I want to you," he turned to the other boy, "the cuts are new just as I suspected. Not older than a month."
Harry got frightened. No, it couldn't be true! He would be uncovered in no time.
"Explain. Now," Percy scowled at him, but Harry didn't answer. He didn't even open his mouth. He was out of ideas.
"Do you have any more Veritaserum remained?"
"Yes, however just a half of a vial. The Slytherins drank all the store."
Now, Harry was in pure panic. He felt like a trapped animal, and he could still barely move because of the stunning curse. He gathered all his willpower and stood up.
"I think my questioning is over," he said and made a step towards the door.
"You are wrong," now all the two boys stepped toward him.
A long fight began. Harry struggled to keep his mouth shut, the others wanted it to open and to pour the liquid into his throat. Harry kicked, pinched, hit them in self-defence, but they were much stronger and after a while he was laid out on the floor, his shoulders pinned painfully to the stones beneath him. Harry winced as the dirty, ice-cold stone pressed to his naked skin, but didn't open his mouth, even for an instant.
Percy knelt on his chest while the other boy grabbed his jaw.
Harry fought desperately. He felt his fate was getting closer. The vial was so close... and the hand on his cheeks slowly reached his aims too. Percy neared the bottle to his face. Then, with a sudden idea he swung his head ahead and with this movement knocked the vial out of the unsuspecting Percy's hand.
The vial fell to the stone, and however, it didn't break, its contents run off deliberately.
Then a door-creaking interrupted the unequal wrestling. Harry glanced hopefully at the entering man, but his faith faded as he saw him. It was the official auror, who guided the whole procedure.
"What's going on here?"
"Mr Snape here doesn't want to take the Veritaserum," the ex-Ravenclaw straightened. "And we tried to convince him. But he broke the last vial."
"Idiots," the older man barked. "Move aside Mr Weasley. You should have stunned him and then pour the serum into his mouth. What was the question you wanted the answer?"
"He contradicted himself when I asked him about his scars. He said they are at least six months old, but I estimate them one month, not more."
The auror grabbed Harry's shoulder carelessly and dragged him up.
Harry gave up the resistance. He shut his eyes and clenched his lips strongly.
"Impertinent boy," he said angrily. Harry trembled in a sudden emotional pain. It was Severus' favourite game to call him impertinent boy or brat. His remark never hurt Harry. It was always connected to something good. Severus... He was certainly with his mistreated Slytherins now, Harry wondered and it felt right. In a little while he too could be with him listening to his soothing, calming words. "Answer Mr Weasley's question!"
Never, Harry thought to himself. He would first die than to slip his secret to them.
A slap clapped on his face and Harry staggered as he lost his balance, but otherwise he didn't react.
The slap was followed by several others until the auror got bored seeing the fruitlessness.
"Okay, boy, I will curse you if you don't answer."
Harry took a deep breath to prepare for the curse, but he still didn't react. It was much worse than he calculated before. The old man was about to curse him. Severus said long ago that the Ministry's torturing tools weren't any better than Voldemort's.
Harry felt as tears prickled his shut eyelids. He had done everything to avoid the Ministry's torture and now, here it came and all his efforts suddenly turned in vain. He lost his friends, his name, his past to keep himself away from it and he failed.
These were his last thoughts before the Tormenta curse.
And after some long moments of unbelievable agony the world went black.
Harry fell onto the floor unconscious.
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Neville shifted on his chair as he waited for Quietus to come out from the room. He was already in for twenty minutes and it began to disturb him. What was going on?
Sometimes he glanced at Hermione who seemed at least as nervous as he was, and after a while she left his smugly smirking boyfriend and sat next to Neville. Neville cast a long, thoughtful glance at Ron. They were friends not so many months ago, but for now he almost hated the red-headed boy. The way he treated Quietus was scandalous. Quietus was a calm, quiet boy, like his name, who tried to avoid the center of the attention, but was always ready to help to anybody turning him for support or assistance, moreover, he did the thing Neville had been sure that nobody would: he softened the inhabitant, bitter potions master's sour and cruel demeanour. Neville still didn't like the dark, tall and sneering man, but sometimes, he managed to see his human side, mostly in the way he treated his son, and he changed his mind about the professor. Snape was a git, still, but wasn't insufferable anymore.
He once was invited to have a drink with the two Snapes in Hogsmeade in the Three Broomsticks. He remembered his nervousness as he had made several efforts to convince Quietus about the plan's stupidity, but he had failed - and he had spent a rather pleasant two hours with them, mostly watching and enjoying their bickering in silence. They had been a perfect example of a father and son, he had noticed and in secret he also had envied their relation. He had always wanted a father, but he had never had, and his grandmother had never missed repeating to him how a disgusting, inhuman creature his father had been.
Yes, Snape, the sneering git had changed visibly and Neville greeted these changes happily.
He even came to terms with the Slytherin boy, Ares, who was Quietus' other friend. Ares' father was a Death Eater, now in the Ministry's new prison, in Liberty (it was another isle near to the Azkaban isle, which was out of use since the dementors joined You-Know-Who) after his magic was deprived from him (it was almost as serious punishment as the Dementors Kiss). The court had sentenced him to life imprisonment. Neville didn't know Ares' story, neither had Quietus told him, but instead Neville had read it in the Prophet. After the article the Slytherin boy seemingly was waiting for his despise and disgust, but in vain. Neville didn't mind their fathers, his own wasn't a brilliant human either. Some days later Ares joined him in a Care of Magical Creatures lesson, and since then they were in good terms. Neville sometimes wondered about Quietus' situation: he had two friends, a Death Eater's and an Auror's son, beautiful mixture!
But Quietus now was still in the room, and finally it was Hermione who asked him.
"What do you think they are doing with him?"
Neville, of course, didn't know, but after his grandmother stories about the aurors' work he had a bad feeling. His nervousness just grew stronger as the old auror, one of his father's old friends entered the room.
Hermione's eyes were wide in fear and solicitude for Quietus.
"Neville, we have to do something," she said finally. "I'm afraid they are... hurting him."
Neville blinked at her in disbelief.
"Why would they hurt him? The aurors aren't hard with children, except for the Death Ea..."
"Quietus is one of them," Hermione whispered so silently that only Neville heard it. The boy paled.
"His father... you mean... but... he's a profes..."
"He was, almost twenty years ago," Hermione explained in hurry. "He isn't any more, he was a spy even in the previous war, but the Ministry's people perhaps..."
Neville was unable to move. Quietus was... Snape was... Bloody hell. THIS was the reason of the constant secret-keeping! And the eavesdropped conversation between Ron and Hermione... It made sense. Quietus' strange behaviour after it... And Neville was sure that even Ares didn't know about it. He shook his head to clear his thoughts. But... he was, he felt betrayed. He shared so many things with Quietus! And...
But then again, it wasn't for Quietus to tell his father's secrets.
Snape... a Death Eater. For a moment he hated the man again, with passion. The bloody, mean git! How did he dare to treat him as...?
Then it came to his mind. Suspected. Ministry's dungeons. Tortures. His father.
And now they were hurting Quietus. They were hurting the son for the father's sin.
It wasn't right!
The next moment he stormed out of the corridor. He ran to the gargoyle to call the Headmaster, but as he stood in front of the statue, he realised irritatedly that he didn't know the password.
What should he do then?
He had to tell Snape. But Snape was... Didn't matter. It was about his son and not him.
He turned around and faced the dungeons. The corridors were empty, because it was the last lesson's time so that he could sprint without the danger of bumping into somebody, except, of course, Filch.
Or better to say, Mrs Norris. Neville in his sprint couldn't notice in time the cat staying in the middle of a shady hallway, before he had already stumbled against her. The cat meowed painfully and hissed at Neville, but he didn't care. He stood up and raced towards his goal. By the time he reached the dungeons, he realised that Filch was yelling and running after him.
"Hey, boy! Stop or you will be expelled before dinner! How dare you kick Mrs Norris! Stop! Stop, you impertinent...!"
He didn't hear anymore, because he reached the potions classroom's door and flung it open.
A very annoyed potions professor stood face-to-face with him.
"Mr Longbottom! Since this is a..." but he couldn't go on.
"Quietus!" Neville shouted nervously. "He is in the room for forty minutes..."
He didn't need to continue.
"Class dismissed," Snape hissed as he galloped out of the room. He swept away the protesting Filch and trod on Mrs Norris' tail in his hurry. Neville followed him.
"They called him in forty minutes ago, and even Mr Bamberg joined them twenty or so minutes ago... I was worried... They won't hurt him, will they?"
"Mr Longbottom, please, fetch the Headmaster, instead of stuttering stupidities," Snape barked interrupting Neville's nervous babbling.
"I've tried. But I don't know the password," he said in a complaining voice.
"The password is Fudge. Now hurry!"
But Neville didn't need to call the Headmaster. They met precisely in front of the classroom. The two adults glanced at each other and they shouted in the same time:
"Aperio!"
"The stronger version of Alohomora," Hermione explained to Neville.
The door swung open with a loud boom.
"Expelliarmus!" was the next curse they cast, then Snape ran into the room first. Dumbledore stepped up to the three aurors. He was about to open his mouth, when Snape cried from the corner.
"He's unconscious, Albus!"
By this time both Neville and Hermione were standing in the door peering inside. What they saw almost stopped their hearts. Quietus was lying on the floor, half-naked, his pale skin criss-crossed by scars and cuts, his face bloody, his hair dampened by sweat. To their surprise Snape sat on the dirty, cold floor and lifted the boy into his lap. His sallow face was paler than ever, his dark eyes were glittering strangely. Tears? He didn't seem to notice anything except for his son, so Neville, after a short glance at him and at the Headmaster went to fetch Madam Pompfrey.
"What happened?" was the nurse's first question. When Neville told what he saw, the woman grabbed only some rolls of sterile gauze and a bottle of calming potion, nothing else. Neville was amazed at this, but he didn't say a word, just followed the grumbling nurse in silence.
"Aurors, wonderful... Three children in the Infirmary, and now the fourth... Good job...! ...Spanish Inquisition..."
For the time they reached the classroom, Neville learned that that day three Slytherins (a first year and two third years) ended up in the Infirmary with slight shock and Madam Pompfrey suspected that Quietus had a shock as well. Neville doubted the nurse's conclusion, but he didn't dare to say a word in protest: considering his frequent incidents, his relationship with the woman was intense and vital, so he decided not to oppose.
She entered the room without glancing at the three aurors, who now were having a ferocious quarrel with the Headmaster. She crouched down next to the potions master and to Neville's surprise she poured the half of the bottle into the dazed man's throat. Just when the professor's grasp eased on Quietus she examined the boy.
"He refused to answer a simple question!" the old auror was furious. "He even contradicted himself!"
"What did you ask him?" the headmaster asked menacingly.
"About his scars. He first told that he had a car accident in the summer, then I saw that those injuries aren't older than a month!" it was now Percy who explained, his arms crossed in nervousness. He wasn't used to arguing with Dumbledore.
The Headmaster turned to the nurse.
"Well then, I think we can ask the professional about those scars. Poppy?"
As the nurse lifted her head Neville could see the obvious shock in her face. She even needed some time to regain her ability to speak.
"His... his scars..." she cleared her throat, "yes, he got them in the summer. But he had a potions accident three weeks ago, which caused his cuts er... scars to open again."
Neville's eye widened in surprise. There weren't any potions accident three weeks ago!
But Dumbledore nodded.
"Please, continue, Poppy. What's the problem now?"
"Slight bodily harm, some bruises and chapped lips caused by several slaps and a greater general inner commotion caused apparently by a Cruciatus or a Tormenta," she said and lifted his eyes to the Headmaster.
"Check their wands, Headmaster," she said darkly.
"Which one is yours, Mr Bamberg?" Dumbledore's voice was icy and sharp. In the meantime Snape lifted Quietus and with Poppy's company they headed towards the Infirmary.
"The oak," the auror barked. "And it's not important to check it. I cast the Tormenta on the boy."
"A Tormenta? Just because he was ashamed of his scars?" Neville cried in utter disbelief.
"Mr Longbottom, please," the Headmaster surprisingly smiled at him, "this is between me and these gentlemen. You are not supposed to be here. And thank you for your help."
Neville nodded and left the room closing the door behind him.
"They cast a tormenting curse on a child," Hermione shook her head. "They're mental. I'm not surprised Madam Pompfrey was so shocked."
Neville scratched his neck nervously. They were alone with the girl, but he leaned closer to her nevertheless.
"Hermione, Quietus' scars are really one month old! I saw them once when we cleaned up the potions room after a tutoring session some weeks ago. They were red and fresh-looking... I thought then that he was cutting himself, but now I could see that he is totally covered with them..."
"I don't know, Neville," Hermione answered slowly. "Perhaps you saw them after that potions accident..."
"There wasn't any accident!"
"How do you know it? His father is the school's potions master and in that time they were experimenting with various potions ingredients for professor Lupin's potion. He could have had ten accidents in that time without you noticing it!"
"But then... why did he say he didn't want me to tell professor Snape about them? And why didn't he just tell me the truth?"
Hermione closed her eyes in thought.
"I think I know the reason, Neville. He is worrying about his father. I think he was abused as a child and now he is afraid that if somebody figure this accident out, his father will be blamed for it, and he has to return his family."
Neville paled transparently.
"He was abused..."
"Remember his fainting in the defence class? I think it was a straight consequence of the previous abuse."
They just stood in silence for a moment. Then Hermione sighed.
"Let's go to the Infirmary then."
The sight, which waited for them in the Infirmary was more astonishing than anything else they had seen that day. Snape was sitting on Quietus' bed, his son on his lap; he rocked the apparently conscious and sobbing boy calmly and in the meantime he argued with the nurse.
"Of course I will bring him home. I won't sleep here and he doesn't need your assistance anymore. He will be fine."
"But Severus..."
"No, Poppy. I will take him home."
"The after-effects of the curse..."
"I can handle them. I brew your potions if I remember correctly and I know precisely what to give him in this state."
"But your classes..."
"I don't mind my classes. Albus will take care of them if he wants. I want to be with him. He had a strong emotional shock. I won't leave him alone, and surely not here! What do you want?" he snapped angrily all of a sudden at the two standing in the doorframe.
Neville jumped back in alarm.
"We came to see Quietus," Hermione answered the question.
Snape nodded.
"I think he fell asleep," he lowered the boy onto the bed and tucked the blanket around him. "Can we go out? I don't want to wake him."
They nodded silently. When they were already in the hallway, Snape turned to them.
"Thank you for your help, and especially yours, Mr Longbottom," he sighed. "However, perhaps if you had acted a bit faster..."
Neville gulped and lowered his head.
"I... I just... I didn't think until... until Hermione said..." he stuttered, but finally he didn't dare to finish the sentence.
"Mr Longbottom?" Snape seemed impatient. "What did she say?"
"I told him what I saw in the Infirmary last year. Your arm, I mean," Hermione blushed and pointed his gaze on her toes.
"Then I remembered what my grandmother used to say about my father and I got frightened that they will hurt Quietus," Neville suddenly finished it.
Snape stared at them appalled.
"So, you know about me being a Death Eater and you decided to help Quietus nevertheless." They nodded.
"Why?" Snape's face now was unreadable.
"He is not his father," Neville shrugged and after he realised what he said and to whom he flushed and shut his mouth.
Snape, however, just chuckled quietly without any comment on Neville's remark.
"And we figured out that you were a spy..." Hermione added, but Snape interrupted her.
"Who...?"
"Harry," Hermione lowered her head. "Dumbledore said to him that you were the Light Side's spy."
"I see..." Snape nodded and turned to the door. "Thank you again. And Mr Longbottom," he waited until Neville looked at him, "I don't know what your grandmother used to tell you. But you are not your father either. Now I just want to ask one thing," the potions master smiled a little. "Next time when you are fighting a boggart, don't dress me in that insufferable, old witch's robes, if it's possible."
Neville was taken aback for a minute. Snape - smiling at him and actually telling him a joke? The world was surely about to end. But he regained his composure in an instant and grinned broadly.
"Well, sir, I don't think my boggart will wear your shape anymore. Next time, I think I will dress my grandmother in your robes. Is it alright?"
"It's a deal, Mr Longbottom."
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The headstone was old and worn and full of crevices, the name was barely readable, but Harry knew what was written on it.
***
Quietus Snape
1960-1979
***
"Nothing else?" he turned to Severus.
"Nothing. He didn't like stupid inscriptions."
They were just standing there looking at the headstone in thought. The sharp, cold wind waved their cloaks (Harry wore one like Severus') and nipped their faces, but they didn't seem to notice it.
Harry was totally lost in his thoughts. It was his father's grave. And he couldn't feel grief, just a slight disappointment over the fact that he had been never given the chance to meet him, as much as his father had never been given a chance even to know him.
He sighed and leaned onto the grave. He pulled off his gloves and swept the snow from the foot of the headstone. He put the candles he had bought in Hogsmeade previously on the stone.
"Incendio," he lighted them.
When he stepped back to Severus, the older man suddenly embraced him, wrapped his arm around him so tightly that for a moment Harry believed he would crush him.
"Sometimes I'm so terribly afraid of losing you," the man whispered trembling. "Please, be more careful. You scare me to death."
"I'll try it, Severus," Harry mumbled through the robes. Severus' open display of feeling alarmed him. "Is there anything wrong?"
"No, just... I looked at the numbers. Quietus lived only 19 years. You are almost 16. I want you to bury me next to him, if I die. Alright?"
"Don't die yet, please. I can't handle it."
"I'm not planning to die in the nearby future, I just wanted to say that I don't want to bury you."
"You won't."
After a half an hour they moved on to the Potter family's tomb.
***
Harold Winston Potter
Armena Helen Potter
James Alfred Potter
Lilian Potter
Harold James Potter
***
"Names and numbers. This is what remains after we die?" Harry's question was shaking and unsure.
"No," Severus shook his head. "No. Much more. There is you, for example. You, who remained after their death: Quietus', James', Lily's and the old Potters'."
"Is it worth all those deaths?"
"I can tell you only my opinion, Quiet. My highly selfish opinion. I think that the fact you exist is worth everything."
"Are you serious?"
"Don't dare to ask it again. Don't dare to doubt it. Do you understand?"
"I don't dare to understand."
They faced Hogwarts after a while.
"Thank you, Sever."
"For what?"
"For showing me. For sharing me."
"It's your family."
"And through me it's yours too."
Severus nodded.
"However, I never believed it that a Potter would be a family for me."
"Not to mention being related to a certain potions master..."
"It's so hard?" Severus' voice sounded concerned.
"You're mental. Of course not. Well, and I owe you another thanks."
Severus arched an eyebrow.
"For saving me from Poppy," Harry explained.
The man sighed heavily.
"She knows the secret."
"How do you know?"
"She told me today. To show you the Potter's tomb as well."
"But... how?"
"She saw your cuts. I think she recognised you suddenly. I'm sure she even did a blood test to check her theory."
"Aren't you worried?"
Severus shrugged.
"Not really. It's better this way. She won't tell it anybody, and she could give you proper medical help if you need it in the future."
"So, we are four now."
"Yes, we are four."
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Sorry for the delay. It wasn't my fault, but of ff.net. I can't upload it for days.
I hope you'll enjoy it, and I will have some rough time again: two exams (17th and 18th of Juny, so I think I will uload only one chapter until then).
Will you leave me after the 21th of Juny?
Thanks for all who reviewed.
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Chapter 10 - Questions and answers
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"Clean up the Spitters' place, and you are free," Hagrid smiled at him. "You can use magic," he added and left Harry alone with the lazy and indifferent animals.
Harry frowned. Severus, as always, fulfilled his promise to give the proper detention, he could never skip any of them. He had already four detentions this year: the first for the potions lesson's explosion, the second for Ron's broken nose and this, the third for running in the corridor, and the fourth for Malfoy's well-deserved beating. Harry surprisingly realised that his behaviour tended to be more rule-breaking and aggressive than the past Harry's. He had never hit anybody before and now, in two months he'd had already two fights.
He didn't like this tendency. If he wasn't enough cautious he really should go to St Brutus' to learn self-control. St Brutus - the thought of the school made him think of the Dursleys. He would probably never return to Privet Drive, he would never again see the family, which despised him to no end, which ignored him and treated him as a freak, a good-for-nothing boy. The contrast between them and Severus was so strong that Harry became ashamed for thinking that his stepfather wanted to shut him out of his life. Severus never shut him out. Severus, instead, let him in, loved him, cared for him, talked to him, bought him clothes, books, a brand new brewing set ('for advanced brewers and potions masters' was written on the box, Harry had even asked Severus if he had bought it for himself) and butterbeer and sweets every time they went to Hogsmeade, guarded his sleep, consoled him after his nightmares, helped him in his studies if he needed a tutor, and on the top of all he was proud of him in front of the whole school.
He had been stupid, when he had thought that Severus had intended to shut him out.
But there was something between them, which was unspoken and it disturbed Harry to no end.
Harry adjusted his robes as he turned to clean the yard after he finished the stabling. The air was clear, but icy and acid-like cold wind blew from North. It was the last week of November.
As he left the building his eyes caught a thin figure standing in the back of the yard. The man or woman was leaning on the fence tiredly, his head was hooded and lowered to the cold wood of the fence.
Harry forgot his work and stepped to the exhausted figure cautiously clearing his throat.
"Uhm. May I help you?"
The head was lifted from the fence and now the eyes were on Harry. It was Janus' sister, Leah. As they looked at each other, Leah blushed violently and averted his gaze as fast as she could. Harry got embarrassed by a sudden, unsure feeling, much like that he had sensed the previous year, whenever he had seen Cho.
"No, thanks," the girl whispered, but she didn't move.
Harry, vaguely, tapped his legs and he didn't know what to say, how to go on with the conversation or whether he had to go on at all. But then Leah looked at him again.
"What are you doing here?" she asked with a serious expression.
"Cleaning the Spitters' yard," he shrugged. "Detention."
This time the girl looked at him straightway, seemingly dumbfounded.
"Detention? You?" She shook her head. "Who gave it?"
"Professor Snape," Harry grinned.
The girl's recoiling turned into a deep bewilderment.
"You're joking."
"Not at all," Harry's grin went ear to ear. "I beat up one of his precious Slytherins."
"Oh, that!" Leah cracked a weak smile. "Janus told me. You had a fight with Malfoy about Zabini, hadn't you?"
"I see you have spies amongst the Slytherins."
"Just as my brother has his spy amongst the Hufflepuffs," this time Leah's smile widened into a genuine one. "And you have your secret agents in both Gryffindor and Slytherins."
"Don't let out the Ravenclaws!" Harry chuckled.
"Why?"
"Professor Flitwick is the head of that house."
"He too works for you?"
"Oh, yes. His life's main aim to persuade father to allow me into his house," Harry winked at her and leaning closer to her he whispered quietly. "The only thing I miss is a double agent in Hufflepuff."
"Then I have to inform you, Mr Snape, you won't find anybody amongst us, who would work for you. Our house is well-known for our loyalty."
"Loyalty, I understand. But to whom?"
"I'm loyal to everybody I respect or love."
"And how do you feel about your house?"
"I respect its traditions," Leah said in a totally serious tone.
"You are too earnest, aren't you?"
"Always."
Harry smirked evilly.
"And what about that little giggling in the greenhouse during the Herbology classes?"
Leah blushed again, her freckles were burning on her pale face, his deep blue eyes shone with chagrin. She lowered her head and her hair fell ahead her face, it was mahogany-coloured and silky.
The next moment Harry stated to himself that she was beautiful. Then a moment later he became so uncomfortable with his feelings that he stepped back and stuttered shyly.
"Sorry, I have to finish my job," and turning on his heels he left the girl alone.
A soft noise stopped him. He looked around and he saw Leah climbing into the yard.
"Would you mind if I help you?" she asked and Harry couldn't help but nod.
***************************************************************************
He was still breathing erratically when he arrived home. He was grinning broadly and felt excited and full of energy so that he wanted to jump or run or beat somebody, anybody...
Severus, on the contrary wasn't happy.
"Tomorrow the aurors will come and check the students again," he said heavily. Harry paled and the previous happy feeling disappeared as if it had never been.
"But Mr Patil will be here again, won't he?" Harry asked hopefully.
"No," Severus shook his head. "He is abroad. He went to France to an international meeting."
Harry trembled. It sounded very bad.
When the aurors had checked the students in September Patil, as the Ministry's clerk had attended all the Slytherins' questioning, including Harry's, mostly for Severus' request. This way everybody had avoided the uncomfortable situations and the unnecessary rudeness. That had been the reason why Harry had passed the cheks so quickly.
Harry stumbled to the chair and sank onto it.
"So we can count on the worst..." he sighed. "And again the problem of my cuts. What should I tell them? Accident?"
"Yes, I think that would be the best." The Potions Master looked at his hands wearily. "As we agreed last time."
"Okay," Harry glanced at him intensely. "You are nervous, aren't you?"
"Of course. They will molest my house as well as you. I want it to be over with."
"So do I."
The night after the bad news was dreadful again, full of fears, then nightmares, and while Harry calmed down enough to sleep normally he had a nasty vision too. As a result of it both he and Severus were dead on their feet the next morning. Harry could barely get dressed and even decided to miss the breakfast, because of the trembling of his hands. The first half of the day, however, passed in its normal way, the Gryffindor house was the last to be examined, and the fifth year's turn arrived after the Care of Magical Creatures in the afternoon. For that time Harry became calmer, he had lunch and even talked to Severus, who assured him about the aurors' relative kindness today.
He was almost relaxed when it came to him. The examination took part in an empty classroom in the third floor, close to the Headmaster's office. They were waiting to their turn in the corridor, chattering, and the row moved on quickly. Seemingly, the aurors wanted to get through with it as fast as possible, so they only cast the Revelo spell, asked some idle questions and that was that.
Harry yawned and felt half-asleep when, finally, he got in.
Two aurors were sitting behind a desk in the shady room lightened only by a torch, which was set to shadow the sitting figures. One of them scribbling neatly on a piece of parchment, the other was sipping tea from a cup.
"Name?" asked the scribbling man.
"Quietus Snape," Harry answered obediently.
The man lifted his gaze from the parchment and looked at him.
Their eyes locked.
Harry, again, was compelled to face with hatred, with pure, unconcealed hatred akin Ron's. Yes, Ron's, and it wasn't a mere chance.
In front of him sat Percy, his mouth slowly curving into a sinister smile.
"Snape," he repeated Harry's word.
The other auror nearly dropped his cup in surprise. Harry recognised him too, he graduated one year before Percy, he was a Ravenclaw prefect in his seventh year, but Harry didn't remember his name.
"Are you related to Severus Snape for instance?" the man asked him. Percy's eye flashed expectantly.
Harry knew precisely what was about to happen.
"Yes," he said resigned.
"Our local Death Eater's son," whispered Percy to the other boy loud enough for Harry to understand.
"My father is NOT a Death Eater," Harry hissed and narrowed his eyes dangerously.
"Once a Death Eater always a Death Eater, Mr Snape," Percy frowned. "Your sleeves. Tuck them up. Now."
Harry didn't like the ordering tone, but he didn't protest. It would be useless and he wanted to get out of the room as soon as possible. He looked at his arms expectantly. Now they seemed normal and flawless, but just as the Revelo would hit them, all the scars would become visible, clearly visible again. Harry hadn't seen them for three weeks, the last time was when Severus checked them one week after his vision with Avery. He sighed and lifted his head, expectantly.
"Revelo," the ex-Ravenclaw said.
Slowly, pink lines began to appear on his arms like the ink-drawings on the Marauders' Map after the use of the proper password. The only difference was that Harry's cuts didn't form even the perfect map of the London Underground as Dumbledore's famous scar above his left knee did let alone that of Hogwarts. His scars were mementos and reminders of more important things, which Harry received in Nightmare Manor: the importance of dignity, humanity, repression, forgetfulness, tradition, love and family; scars, which bound him to Voldemort like his other scar on his forehead, now hidden beneath his hair, to make him remember and didn't allow him to forget...
"Where are these scars from?" Percy asked, his expression was unreadable. But his tone! Clear sadism.
"It was a car accident. The wind-screen broke and fell on me."
Harry himself wasn't sure that it sounded convincing enough.
"When?" the next question snapped.
"In the summer."
"Really? They are healing surprisingly slowly!"
Harry could hear the disbelief in Percy's voice. He lowered his head and pointed his eyes to the ground.
"I was treated in a muggle hospital."
Percy stepped to him.
"Hold out your arm," the young auror ordered categorically.
Harry sighed and did what he was ordered.
"They seem to me rather new," a disdainful smirk appeared on Percy's face. "How long have you been cutting yourself?"
Harry's eyes widened in realisation.
"I'm not cutting myself. I'm not suicidal."
"Aren't you? Let's see then. You said that windscreen fell onto you. I suppose you have other scars then."
Harry's embarrassment grew into a shame.
"I don't think it's your business," he moaned through his narrowed throat.
"Remove your clothes!" Percy yelled aggressively.
"No."
"Remove them NOW or I will resort to violence."
"You have no right to give me orders like this," Harry said and wondered if he really had known this boy previously. Well, Percy always had been narrow- minded and strict, but Harry didn't remember to see him aggressive or abusive. Perhaps because he had never been Snape's son to him previously, and Percy hadn't known about Snape's past either. Not to mention that Percy hadn't been an auror before, and the Ministry's training had the strength to corrupt anybody who wasn't human enough to resist the offered power to control the others.
"I'm here the Ministry's representative and your father is a Death Eater. You are under suspicion of following his activity, so I can give you orders if I see it necessary and now I see."
Harry folded his arms over his chest and lifting his head looked at Percy straightly.
"I won't remove my robes. My father has not been a Death Eater for more than sixteen years and you can't accuse me..." he couldn't continue. A strong blow on his face sent him onto the floor. As he reached his hand to his mouth he felt something wet. Blood. He lifted his gaze in awe.
Was this really the Percy he had known for years, whose family had been always like his own?
What happened? What caused this sudden change?
Harry shook his head to clear his vision, but he felt dizzy.
"So? Do you remove your robes or I have to go on..." Percy hissed menacingly.
Harry stood up and dusted his robes. Dignity, he reminded himself.
"I won't. And I will report you to the Ministry," he said calmly.
"Oh, will you? I'm happy to hear it. At least your case will be thoroughly examined."
The blood ran away from Harry's face. No. He didn't need those examinations.
"So. Remove your clothes now, or I will remove from you, but then you won't be able to wear them any more," Percy said and pointed his wand to him.
Harry didn't move, just stared at Percy as firmly as he could in that situation.
"Stupefy!" Percy said and the curse hit Harry on his stomach. He fell on his knees and felt numbly as the man pulled his robes through his head from him. He trembled. It was chilly in the room and he was kneeling exposed and half-naked in front of two curious and cruel pair of eyes.
When Percy leaned closer and ran his hand down on a long cut, Harry groaned in disgust.
"Don't touch me!" he hissed.
"I can do anything I want to you," he turned to the other boy, "the cuts are new just as I suspected. Not older than a month."
Harry got frightened. No, it couldn't be true! He would be uncovered in no time.
"Explain. Now," Percy scowled at him, but Harry didn't answer. He didn't even open his mouth. He was out of ideas.
"Do you have any more Veritaserum remained?"
"Yes, however just a half of a vial. The Slytherins drank all the store."
Now, Harry was in pure panic. He felt like a trapped animal, and he could still barely move because of the stunning curse. He gathered all his willpower and stood up.
"I think my questioning is over," he said and made a step towards the door.
"You are wrong," now all the two boys stepped toward him.
A long fight began. Harry struggled to keep his mouth shut, the others wanted it to open and to pour the liquid into his throat. Harry kicked, pinched, hit them in self-defence, but they were much stronger and after a while he was laid out on the floor, his shoulders pinned painfully to the stones beneath him. Harry winced as the dirty, ice-cold stone pressed to his naked skin, but didn't open his mouth, even for an instant.
Percy knelt on his chest while the other boy grabbed his jaw.
Harry fought desperately. He felt his fate was getting closer. The vial was so close... and the hand on his cheeks slowly reached his aims too. Percy neared the bottle to his face. Then, with a sudden idea he swung his head ahead and with this movement knocked the vial out of the unsuspecting Percy's hand.
The vial fell to the stone, and however, it didn't break, its contents run off deliberately.
Then a door-creaking interrupted the unequal wrestling. Harry glanced hopefully at the entering man, but his faith faded as he saw him. It was the official auror, who guided the whole procedure.
"What's going on here?"
"Mr Snape here doesn't want to take the Veritaserum," the ex-Ravenclaw straightened. "And we tried to convince him. But he broke the last vial."
"Idiots," the older man barked. "Move aside Mr Weasley. You should have stunned him and then pour the serum into his mouth. What was the question you wanted the answer?"
"He contradicted himself when I asked him about his scars. He said they are at least six months old, but I estimate them one month, not more."
The auror grabbed Harry's shoulder carelessly and dragged him up.
Harry gave up the resistance. He shut his eyes and clenched his lips strongly.
"Impertinent boy," he said angrily. Harry trembled in a sudden emotional pain. It was Severus' favourite game to call him impertinent boy or brat. His remark never hurt Harry. It was always connected to something good. Severus... He was certainly with his mistreated Slytherins now, Harry wondered and it felt right. In a little while he too could be with him listening to his soothing, calming words. "Answer Mr Weasley's question!"
Never, Harry thought to himself. He would first die than to slip his secret to them.
A slap clapped on his face and Harry staggered as he lost his balance, but otherwise he didn't react.
The slap was followed by several others until the auror got bored seeing the fruitlessness.
"Okay, boy, I will curse you if you don't answer."
Harry took a deep breath to prepare for the curse, but he still didn't react. It was much worse than he calculated before. The old man was about to curse him. Severus said long ago that the Ministry's torturing tools weren't any better than Voldemort's.
Harry felt as tears prickled his shut eyelids. He had done everything to avoid the Ministry's torture and now, here it came and all his efforts suddenly turned in vain. He lost his friends, his name, his past to keep himself away from it and he failed.
These were his last thoughts before the Tormenta curse.
And after some long moments of unbelievable agony the world went black.
Harry fell onto the floor unconscious.
***************************************************************************
Neville shifted on his chair as he waited for Quietus to come out from the room. He was already in for twenty minutes and it began to disturb him. What was going on?
Sometimes he glanced at Hermione who seemed at least as nervous as he was, and after a while she left his smugly smirking boyfriend and sat next to Neville. Neville cast a long, thoughtful glance at Ron. They were friends not so many months ago, but for now he almost hated the red-headed boy. The way he treated Quietus was scandalous. Quietus was a calm, quiet boy, like his name, who tried to avoid the center of the attention, but was always ready to help to anybody turning him for support or assistance, moreover, he did the thing Neville had been sure that nobody would: he softened the inhabitant, bitter potions master's sour and cruel demeanour. Neville still didn't like the dark, tall and sneering man, but sometimes, he managed to see his human side, mostly in the way he treated his son, and he changed his mind about the professor. Snape was a git, still, but wasn't insufferable anymore.
He once was invited to have a drink with the two Snapes in Hogsmeade in the Three Broomsticks. He remembered his nervousness as he had made several efforts to convince Quietus about the plan's stupidity, but he had failed - and he had spent a rather pleasant two hours with them, mostly watching and enjoying their bickering in silence. They had been a perfect example of a father and son, he had noticed and in secret he also had envied their relation. He had always wanted a father, but he had never had, and his grandmother had never missed repeating to him how a disgusting, inhuman creature his father had been.
Yes, Snape, the sneering git had changed visibly and Neville greeted these changes happily.
He even came to terms with the Slytherin boy, Ares, who was Quietus' other friend. Ares' father was a Death Eater, now in the Ministry's new prison, in Liberty (it was another isle near to the Azkaban isle, which was out of use since the dementors joined You-Know-Who) after his magic was deprived from him (it was almost as serious punishment as the Dementors Kiss). The court had sentenced him to life imprisonment. Neville didn't know Ares' story, neither had Quietus told him, but instead Neville had read it in the Prophet. After the article the Slytherin boy seemingly was waiting for his despise and disgust, but in vain. Neville didn't mind their fathers, his own wasn't a brilliant human either. Some days later Ares joined him in a Care of Magical Creatures lesson, and since then they were in good terms. Neville sometimes wondered about Quietus' situation: he had two friends, a Death Eater's and an Auror's son, beautiful mixture!
But Quietus now was still in the room, and finally it was Hermione who asked him.
"What do you think they are doing with him?"
Neville, of course, didn't know, but after his grandmother stories about the aurors' work he had a bad feeling. His nervousness just grew stronger as the old auror, one of his father's old friends entered the room.
Hermione's eyes were wide in fear and solicitude for Quietus.
"Neville, we have to do something," she said finally. "I'm afraid they are... hurting him."
Neville blinked at her in disbelief.
"Why would they hurt him? The aurors aren't hard with children, except for the Death Ea..."
"Quietus is one of them," Hermione whispered so silently that only Neville heard it. The boy paled.
"His father... you mean... but... he's a profes..."
"He was, almost twenty years ago," Hermione explained in hurry. "He isn't any more, he was a spy even in the previous war, but the Ministry's people perhaps..."
Neville was unable to move. Quietus was... Snape was... Bloody hell. THIS was the reason of the constant secret-keeping! And the eavesdropped conversation between Ron and Hermione... It made sense. Quietus' strange behaviour after it... And Neville was sure that even Ares didn't know about it. He shook his head to clear his thoughts. But... he was, he felt betrayed. He shared so many things with Quietus! And...
But then again, it wasn't for Quietus to tell his father's secrets.
Snape... a Death Eater. For a moment he hated the man again, with passion. The bloody, mean git! How did he dare to treat him as...?
Then it came to his mind. Suspected. Ministry's dungeons. Tortures. His father.
And now they were hurting Quietus. They were hurting the son for the father's sin.
It wasn't right!
The next moment he stormed out of the corridor. He ran to the gargoyle to call the Headmaster, but as he stood in front of the statue, he realised irritatedly that he didn't know the password.
What should he do then?
He had to tell Snape. But Snape was... Didn't matter. It was about his son and not him.
He turned around and faced the dungeons. The corridors were empty, because it was the last lesson's time so that he could sprint without the danger of bumping into somebody, except, of course, Filch.
Or better to say, Mrs Norris. Neville in his sprint couldn't notice in time the cat staying in the middle of a shady hallway, before he had already stumbled against her. The cat meowed painfully and hissed at Neville, but he didn't care. He stood up and raced towards his goal. By the time he reached the dungeons, he realised that Filch was yelling and running after him.
"Hey, boy! Stop or you will be expelled before dinner! How dare you kick Mrs Norris! Stop! Stop, you impertinent...!"
He didn't hear anymore, because he reached the potions classroom's door and flung it open.
A very annoyed potions professor stood face-to-face with him.
"Mr Longbottom! Since this is a..." but he couldn't go on.
"Quietus!" Neville shouted nervously. "He is in the room for forty minutes..."
He didn't need to continue.
"Class dismissed," Snape hissed as he galloped out of the room. He swept away the protesting Filch and trod on Mrs Norris' tail in his hurry. Neville followed him.
"They called him in forty minutes ago, and even Mr Bamberg joined them twenty or so minutes ago... I was worried... They won't hurt him, will they?"
"Mr Longbottom, please, fetch the Headmaster, instead of stuttering stupidities," Snape barked interrupting Neville's nervous babbling.
"I've tried. But I don't know the password," he said in a complaining voice.
"The password is Fudge. Now hurry!"
But Neville didn't need to call the Headmaster. They met precisely in front of the classroom. The two adults glanced at each other and they shouted in the same time:
"Aperio!"
"The stronger version of Alohomora," Hermione explained to Neville.
The door swung open with a loud boom.
"Expelliarmus!" was the next curse they cast, then Snape ran into the room first. Dumbledore stepped up to the three aurors. He was about to open his mouth, when Snape cried from the corner.
"He's unconscious, Albus!"
By this time both Neville and Hermione were standing in the door peering inside. What they saw almost stopped their hearts. Quietus was lying on the floor, half-naked, his pale skin criss-crossed by scars and cuts, his face bloody, his hair dampened by sweat. To their surprise Snape sat on the dirty, cold floor and lifted the boy into his lap. His sallow face was paler than ever, his dark eyes were glittering strangely. Tears? He didn't seem to notice anything except for his son, so Neville, after a short glance at him and at the Headmaster went to fetch Madam Pompfrey.
"What happened?" was the nurse's first question. When Neville told what he saw, the woman grabbed only some rolls of sterile gauze and a bottle of calming potion, nothing else. Neville was amazed at this, but he didn't say a word, just followed the grumbling nurse in silence.
"Aurors, wonderful... Three children in the Infirmary, and now the fourth... Good job...! ...Spanish Inquisition..."
For the time they reached the classroom, Neville learned that that day three Slytherins (a first year and two third years) ended up in the Infirmary with slight shock and Madam Pompfrey suspected that Quietus had a shock as well. Neville doubted the nurse's conclusion, but he didn't dare to say a word in protest: considering his frequent incidents, his relationship with the woman was intense and vital, so he decided not to oppose.
She entered the room without glancing at the three aurors, who now were having a ferocious quarrel with the Headmaster. She crouched down next to the potions master and to Neville's surprise she poured the half of the bottle into the dazed man's throat. Just when the professor's grasp eased on Quietus she examined the boy.
"He refused to answer a simple question!" the old auror was furious. "He even contradicted himself!"
"What did you ask him?" the headmaster asked menacingly.
"About his scars. He first told that he had a car accident in the summer, then I saw that those injuries aren't older than a month!" it was now Percy who explained, his arms crossed in nervousness. He wasn't used to arguing with Dumbledore.
The Headmaster turned to the nurse.
"Well then, I think we can ask the professional about those scars. Poppy?"
As the nurse lifted her head Neville could see the obvious shock in her face. She even needed some time to regain her ability to speak.
"His... his scars..." she cleared her throat, "yes, he got them in the summer. But he had a potions accident three weeks ago, which caused his cuts er... scars to open again."
Neville's eye widened in surprise. There weren't any potions accident three weeks ago!
But Dumbledore nodded.
"Please, continue, Poppy. What's the problem now?"
"Slight bodily harm, some bruises and chapped lips caused by several slaps and a greater general inner commotion caused apparently by a Cruciatus or a Tormenta," she said and lifted his eyes to the Headmaster.
"Check their wands, Headmaster," she said darkly.
"Which one is yours, Mr Bamberg?" Dumbledore's voice was icy and sharp. In the meantime Snape lifted Quietus and with Poppy's company they headed towards the Infirmary.
"The oak," the auror barked. "And it's not important to check it. I cast the Tormenta on the boy."
"A Tormenta? Just because he was ashamed of his scars?" Neville cried in utter disbelief.
"Mr Longbottom, please," the Headmaster surprisingly smiled at him, "this is between me and these gentlemen. You are not supposed to be here. And thank you for your help."
Neville nodded and left the room closing the door behind him.
"They cast a tormenting curse on a child," Hermione shook her head. "They're mental. I'm not surprised Madam Pompfrey was so shocked."
Neville scratched his neck nervously. They were alone with the girl, but he leaned closer to her nevertheless.
"Hermione, Quietus' scars are really one month old! I saw them once when we cleaned up the potions room after a tutoring session some weeks ago. They were red and fresh-looking... I thought then that he was cutting himself, but now I could see that he is totally covered with them..."
"I don't know, Neville," Hermione answered slowly. "Perhaps you saw them after that potions accident..."
"There wasn't any accident!"
"How do you know it? His father is the school's potions master and in that time they were experimenting with various potions ingredients for professor Lupin's potion. He could have had ten accidents in that time without you noticing it!"
"But then... why did he say he didn't want me to tell professor Snape about them? And why didn't he just tell me the truth?"
Hermione closed her eyes in thought.
"I think I know the reason, Neville. He is worrying about his father. I think he was abused as a child and now he is afraid that if somebody figure this accident out, his father will be blamed for it, and he has to return his family."
Neville paled transparently.
"He was abused..."
"Remember his fainting in the defence class? I think it was a straight consequence of the previous abuse."
They just stood in silence for a moment. Then Hermione sighed.
"Let's go to the Infirmary then."
The sight, which waited for them in the Infirmary was more astonishing than anything else they had seen that day. Snape was sitting on Quietus' bed, his son on his lap; he rocked the apparently conscious and sobbing boy calmly and in the meantime he argued with the nurse.
"Of course I will bring him home. I won't sleep here and he doesn't need your assistance anymore. He will be fine."
"But Severus..."
"No, Poppy. I will take him home."
"The after-effects of the curse..."
"I can handle them. I brew your potions if I remember correctly and I know precisely what to give him in this state."
"But your classes..."
"I don't mind my classes. Albus will take care of them if he wants. I want to be with him. He had a strong emotional shock. I won't leave him alone, and surely not here! What do you want?" he snapped angrily all of a sudden at the two standing in the doorframe.
Neville jumped back in alarm.
"We came to see Quietus," Hermione answered the question.
Snape nodded.
"I think he fell asleep," he lowered the boy onto the bed and tucked the blanket around him. "Can we go out? I don't want to wake him."
They nodded silently. When they were already in the hallway, Snape turned to them.
"Thank you for your help, and especially yours, Mr Longbottom," he sighed. "However, perhaps if you had acted a bit faster..."
Neville gulped and lowered his head.
"I... I just... I didn't think until... until Hermione said..." he stuttered, but finally he didn't dare to finish the sentence.
"Mr Longbottom?" Snape seemed impatient. "What did she say?"
"I told him what I saw in the Infirmary last year. Your arm, I mean," Hermione blushed and pointed his gaze on her toes.
"Then I remembered what my grandmother used to say about my father and I got frightened that they will hurt Quietus," Neville suddenly finished it.
Snape stared at them appalled.
"So, you know about me being a Death Eater and you decided to help Quietus nevertheless." They nodded.
"Why?" Snape's face now was unreadable.
"He is not his father," Neville shrugged and after he realised what he said and to whom he flushed and shut his mouth.
Snape, however, just chuckled quietly without any comment on Neville's remark.
"And we figured out that you were a spy..." Hermione added, but Snape interrupted her.
"Who...?"
"Harry," Hermione lowered her head. "Dumbledore said to him that you were the Light Side's spy."
"I see..." Snape nodded and turned to the door. "Thank you again. And Mr Longbottom," he waited until Neville looked at him, "I don't know what your grandmother used to tell you. But you are not your father either. Now I just want to ask one thing," the potions master smiled a little. "Next time when you are fighting a boggart, don't dress me in that insufferable, old witch's robes, if it's possible."
Neville was taken aback for a minute. Snape - smiling at him and actually telling him a joke? The world was surely about to end. But he regained his composure in an instant and grinned broadly.
"Well, sir, I don't think my boggart will wear your shape anymore. Next time, I think I will dress my grandmother in your robes. Is it alright?"
"It's a deal, Mr Longbottom."
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The headstone was old and worn and full of crevices, the name was barely readable, but Harry knew what was written on it.
***
Quietus Snape
1960-1979
***
"Nothing else?" he turned to Severus.
"Nothing. He didn't like stupid inscriptions."
They were just standing there looking at the headstone in thought. The sharp, cold wind waved their cloaks (Harry wore one like Severus') and nipped their faces, but they didn't seem to notice it.
Harry was totally lost in his thoughts. It was his father's grave. And he couldn't feel grief, just a slight disappointment over the fact that he had been never given the chance to meet him, as much as his father had never been given a chance even to know him.
He sighed and leaned onto the grave. He pulled off his gloves and swept the snow from the foot of the headstone. He put the candles he had bought in Hogsmeade previously on the stone.
"Incendio," he lighted them.
When he stepped back to Severus, the older man suddenly embraced him, wrapped his arm around him so tightly that for a moment Harry believed he would crush him.
"Sometimes I'm so terribly afraid of losing you," the man whispered trembling. "Please, be more careful. You scare me to death."
"I'll try it, Severus," Harry mumbled through the robes. Severus' open display of feeling alarmed him. "Is there anything wrong?"
"No, just... I looked at the numbers. Quietus lived only 19 years. You are almost 16. I want you to bury me next to him, if I die. Alright?"
"Don't die yet, please. I can't handle it."
"I'm not planning to die in the nearby future, I just wanted to say that I don't want to bury you."
"You won't."
After a half an hour they moved on to the Potter family's tomb.
***
Harold Winston Potter
Armena Helen Potter
James Alfred Potter
Lilian Potter
Harold James Potter
***
"Names and numbers. This is what remains after we die?" Harry's question was shaking and unsure.
"No," Severus shook his head. "No. Much more. There is you, for example. You, who remained after their death: Quietus', James', Lily's and the old Potters'."
"Is it worth all those deaths?"
"I can tell you only my opinion, Quiet. My highly selfish opinion. I think that the fact you exist is worth everything."
"Are you serious?"
"Don't dare to ask it again. Don't dare to doubt it. Do you understand?"
"I don't dare to understand."
They faced Hogwarts after a while.
"Thank you, Sever."
"For what?"
"For showing me. For sharing me."
"It's your family."
"And through me it's yours too."
Severus nodded.
"However, I never believed it that a Potter would be a family for me."
"Not to mention being related to a certain potions master..."
"It's so hard?" Severus' voice sounded concerned.
"You're mental. Of course not. Well, and I owe you another thanks."
Severus arched an eyebrow.
"For saving me from Poppy," Harry explained.
The man sighed heavily.
"She knows the secret."
"How do you know?"
"She told me today. To show you the Potter's tomb as well."
"But... how?"
"She saw your cuts. I think she recognised you suddenly. I'm sure she even did a blood test to check her theory."
"Aren't you worried?"
Severus shrugged.
"Not really. It's better this way. She won't tell it anybody, and she could give you proper medical help if you need it in the future."
"So, we are four now."
"Yes, we are four."
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