Chapter 8
Catch 22
"Mum? Dad?"
Hope glanced nervously from one to the other. Her mother's face was flushed and she looked ready to explode at any second, but her father's expression was worse. He stared gravely at her and slowly raised his eyebrows. Nothing was said.
She gulped.
Snape cleared his throat, and Hope's eyes flickered wildly in his direction. She'd come here for a reason, and she was in so much trouble now that she couldn't possibly make it any worse.
"Professor," she said, rushing through this before she had a chance to change her mind. "It was my fault that Robert was out of bounds last night. I was there too but you didn't see me."
"How courageous of you," Snape drawled. "Extraordinarily kind of you to hide and let your friend take all the blame."
"It wasn't like that," Hope protested, feeling her temper begin to flame.
Snape's fingers drummed on the desk. "So what was it like exactly? Perhaps you'd care to explain?"
All eyes in the room seemed to bore into her and Hope's cheeks burned. She opened her mouth to try and explain, but no words came out.
"Come on, girl!" Snape barked.
Hope chewed on her lip and thought carefully. She couldn't explain why she hadn't spoken out last night; whatever happened, she couldn't get Cora into trouble. She'd just have to trust luck and keep her fingers crossed that Robert would forgive her when she had a chance to explain to him later.
"Hope, I suggest you tell us what's going on," her father's voice was low and controlled. She hung her head and refused to meet his gaze, her stomach squirming more than ever. "The owl we got from school was surprising, to say the least."
Hope's head jerked upwards, only to catch sight of Snape rifling officiously through a stack of parchment on the desk before him.
"Surprising is scarcely the word I would have chosen, Potter," he sneered, "but then you always were the one to try and wheedle your way out of wrongdoing. Rules didn't apply to you, did they? Well I can assure you that they certainly apply to your daughter and Slytherin House."
There was a screech of a chair being pushed back, and Hope flinched to see her father beginning to get to his feet, fury blazing in his eyes. Her mother's hand shot out and caught him by the arm, and the two exchanged a look that seemed to contain an unspoken conversation. Slowly, slowly her father sank back into his seat and glared venomously at the Potions Master.
"Let me see," Snape's voice was unyielding and his black eyes glittered over the sheaf of papers before him, "possession of a forbidden substance resulting in severe damage to greenhouse three."
"Forbidden?" Hope blurted out. "Where does it say that Ivy's Revenge is forbidden?"
There was a sudden intake of breath and Hope saw her mother give a curt nod of her head as if she suddenly understood. Her lips pursed themselves into a thin line, and on occasions like this, when Mum really, truly looked like Granny, Hope knew it was time to dive for cover and hope the roof stayed on after the explosion. She definitely didn't fancy her uncles' chances once her mum got hold of them later today.
"No student must bring with them harmful substances." Snape's lofty intonation sounded delighted.
"Doesn't that refer to potions?" Hope's father queried. "I seem to remember- "
"Seeds that happened to smash several panes in the greenhouse, injure several students, traumatise some young mandrakes to the point of needing Professor Sprout's twenty-four hour care and that's not to mention disrupting an entire lesson." Snape snapped back. "I'd say that was harmful enough. Then there was the occasion when Miss Potter decided to terrorise one of her classmates in the dormitory."
Hope bit her lip and stared at her shoes. They were scuffed today, not polished like they usually were. She could see the scratches from where she'd tripped over the bucket in the cupboard with Cora and Robert. Had that really only been yesterday? It seemed like so much longer.
"Savage Sheets, I believe they are called," Snape drawled. "Miss Parkinson has been suffering from nightmares ever since."
"Parkinson?" Her father's voice sounded curious rather than angry. "As in Pansy?"
"Her youngest sister," Snape acknowledged.
"And did you find out what she'd done to provoke Hope?" her father demanded. Hope glanced up, her eyes wide with shock. Her heart was thudding madly in her chest. Her dad wasn't mad with her? Then maybe. maybe.
"I suppose you'll be accusing the entire staff of having a vendetta against her next?" Snape said sharply. "What excuse can you provide for her casting charms on the staff breakfasts?"
"She did what?" Her mother evidently couldn't hold back any longer.
"Altered the appearance of various members of staff to expose them to ridicule." Snape looked more disapproving them ever.
"Oh?" The interest from her father was unmistakeable.
"Very much so," Snape retorted. "Minerva McGonagall in tight-fitting black leather; I ask you to imagine the affront of it! Hardly becoming to a witch in her position."
"I put Uncle Remus in a long golden evening gown as well," Hope admitted, wriggling awkwardly on the spot, "but Professor Snape's transformation went a bit wrong."
"Hope!"
"Indeed." Professor Snape glared in her direction.
"I'm very sorry for all the pink feathers, Professor. I really meant to turn you into a whole flamingo and I don't know where the satin negligee came from," Hope confessed.
Her father choked and coughed violently for a few moments, turning puce as he struggled to control himself. He got up and paced to the towering bookshelves at one end of the dungeon, his shoulders shaking violently as he stared at the glittering golden titles on the spines and heaved in deep breaths.
Finally he turned back to the rest of the room.
"That was very wrong, Hope!" His face was stern but his voice warbled. "You should have known better."
"Then she admits she was out of bounds last night," Snape interjected firmly. "One broken rule after another. She's caused chaos by switching the contents of the Gryffindor and Slytherin common rooms around. Then she injures herself by stealing a broom and flying into the wards, she injures others with her impetuous acts, and she's spent her entire time since she got here on detention. If she continues to behave like this, I'm afraid we will be unable to keep her here."
"And Circinus has agreed to that?" her mum demanded, her dark eyes glittering fiercely at the Potions Master.
"He has been informed of the situation, yes. If a student fails to respond to the discipline of the school, there is no other alternative. Perhaps Beauxbatons or Durmstrang may be more suited to her needs?"
"Or perhaps you just need to talk to her and find out what's going on," Ginny retorted. She stroked the roundness of her stomach as if to soothe the child within. "This is ridiculous. Remus, Minerva, Hagrid. there are plenty of staff who know what Hope is usually like. There's something going on that none of us know about and you haven't bothered to find out."
"Miss Potter?" Snape's eyes glittered as he stared at her. Hope glared back and remained mute. He'd only torment her if he knew what she was really thinking. "If your mother is correct, perhaps you'd like to make some comment and explain the reasons for your behaviour?"
Hope glanced across at her parents and caught her dad's eye. She gave him a pleading look, hoping he'd understand. After a couple of moments he nodded and cleared his throat.
"This is getting us nowhere, Professor. Might I suggest that Hope and I take a walk around the grounds. We'll see if we can get to the bottom of the matter."
"I hardly think." Snape began, but Harry interrupted.
"Do you want this sorted out or not?" he demanded. Snape inclined his head stiffly to acknowledge that he did. "Then let me speak to my daughter." He turned back to his wife. "Ginny, it'll be fine, I promise. Why don't you go and relax with Remus for a while. Even if he's teaching this morning, he won't mind you resting in his rooms until I get back. You really shouldn't have come at all, you know."
"I'm staying until I make sure that Hope is all right," Ginny said fiercely. "Snape has always had it in for all things Potter, and it seems that our daughter is no exception. After all, why break the habit of a lifetime?"
"I have been more than tolerant," Snape hissed back. "As you may be aware, your daughter does have potential, but she is currently more of a liability than an asset to the school."
Her mother's face reddened and her eyes flashed. "Because of the way you're treat-"
"Give me some time," her father interjected, his voice calming and reassuring. "I presume Hope can be excused from her lessons for an hour or so?"
Snape nodded curtly. "It shall be arranged. I am available after third year Potions to discuss the matter further."
"Good," her father commented.
He helped his wife out of her chair and slowly they made their way towards Hope and the door. Hope saw her father wink at her and she gave him a small smile in return. A few moments later and they were in the corridor, with Snape's door closed firmly behind them.
The torches flamed brightly, dancing in their sconces and illuminating the passageway in a patchwork of warm light and dark shadow. They could hear nothing but the distant sounds of the school preparing themselves for the day ahead.
"He's still a git after all these years," Hope's mother exploded. "How dare he be like that?"
"I'm sorry, Mum."
"So you should be!" she snapped. "Seriously, Hope, I don't know what's got into you, but we're worried enough right now without you going and doing all this as well. What were you thinking?"
Hope felt hot tears beginning to flood her eyes. She hadn't thought about that at all. Dad and Mum were really worried about this new baby, and she'd known that Mum hadn't to be stressed any more with things. And then she, Hope, had gone and done this. What if she'd hurt the baby or Mum with the way she'd been behaving?
Then she felt gentle arms around her.
"I'm sorry, sweetheart. I shouldn't have said all that," her mum said, hugging her more tightly and kissing her on her forehead. "Don't worry. We'll sort it all out, whatever it is. Dad and I will stay until it's fixed."
"We will," her dad echoed. "Ginny, will you be ok? You'll send someone if you need me?"
Her mum smiled weakly back at him and then smoothed Hope's hair back from her face. "I'll go and see Remus and see what he has to say. I can't imagine the picture's as black as Snape is painting it anyway."
"It is," Hope said glumly.
"I'm sure I've done worse," her father chuckled and took his daughter's hand in his. "Come on, let's go for a walk."
The three of them parted company in the entrance hall. Ginny made her way slowly up the marble staircase, and Harry paused, watching her for a while, as if to reassure himself, before he finally turned to Hope and raised his eyebrows.
"Any preference?"
She shook her head, and followed him out of the front door, down the steps and onto the Hogwarts lawns that sloped down in front of the castle and lead to the lake.
It was a sunny morning, with a slight nip of freshness in the air. Birds wheeled overhead, chattering and cawing to each other in a cacophony of discordant tunes. The trees rustled in the breeze, their leaves still green for now, but with hints of autumnal yellow for those who cared to look.
Hope shivered slightly.
"Cold?" her dad asked.
She shook her head, but he swept off his cloak anyway and draped it round her shoulders. She smiled to see it flowing out on the ground behind her like a coronation train. It reminded her of when she used to play dressing up in some of mum's robes when she had been younger and pretending to be a princess. That was back in the days when everything was perfect, not like now. A muttered spell and the fabric shrank upwards, until it brushed around her ankles.
"Suits you," her father laughed, "but you're not keeping it." He took her hand again and they wandered in silence towards the lake. Hope kept shooting sideways glances up at him, trying to work out what he was thinking, but his face was impenetrable.
He turned anti-clockwise to follow a well-trodden earthen path around the lake. The path was worn smooth through years of use and twisted its way along the shore. Tree roots jutted out and crossed their way, but they strolled on in silence. A tentacle lazily broke through the surface of the water and splashed back down again, making the lake glitter as millions of little droplets rained back down again.
Finally her father paused and clambered easily over the roots of a particularly large tree. Hope followed him, wobbling slightly over the unfamiliar ground and using her hands to steady herself in case she toppled forwards and landed in the lake. She rounded the corner and found her dad sitting in a sheltered spot, on a large root that protruded from the ground before sinking back into the depths of the earth once more. He smiled and patted the space next to him, indicating that she should join him.
"Your mum and I used to come here a lot," he explained, and stared out across the water. "It was somewhere we could sit and talk without other people bothering us all the time. She yelled at me once, right here, for trying to be responsible for things that weren't my fault. I didn't understand what she meant at the time, but now I know she was right."
"You really loved it here, didn't you, Dad?"
"And you don't?"
Hope shook her head and stared out across the rippling lake. She waited for her dad to say something, but he didn't. The warmth of his body beside hers was reassuring. Hope took a deep breath. He was waiting to hear what she had to say.
"I'm in Slytherin, Dad."
There it was. The words that had made her entire world end. The words that must have crushed her family when they read them in her letter. She was in Slytherin.
"I know." His words were very matter-of-factly spoken. There was no trace of disappointment in his tones. Hope whirled around to stare at him, her jaw hanging open in surprise.
"B-But it's Slytherin," she managed to say. "Not Gryffindor."
"And you're you, not me," he replied.
"But I wanted to be like you," she whispered. "I wanted to be like Mum, and Granny and Grandpa and Uncle Ron and. I didn't want to be different."
"You're not so different," he smiled and ruffled her hair with his hand.
"I'll bet the hat didn't even think of putting any of the rest of the family in Slytherin," she grumbled, and scowled so fiercely at a nearby water rat, that he squeaked in terror and tore off into his burrow at an alarming rate.
"You reckon?" her father laughed.
She glanced up at him curiously.
"I've never told you about my Sorting, have I?" he murmured, hugging her closely. "In fact, come to think about it, your mum doesn't even know about it; neither do Uncle Ron and Aunt Hermione. The hat was very keen to put me in Slytherin. I can still remember what it said, even now. 'You could be great, you know, it's all here in your head, and Slytherin will help you on the way to greatness, no doubt about that.' So I was almost in Slytherin myself. I suppose I should have warned you about it really."
"You were nearly put in Slytherin?" Hope was amazed. She'd had no idea. "How come you ended up in Gryffindor then?"
"I asked the hat not to put me in Slytherin. Like you I'd heard some pretty awful things about people in that house and I thought that any place had to be better than that."
"It is pretty awful," Hope murmured.
"All of it?" Her dad looked carefully at her.
"Yes." Hope stopped dead. No, that wasn't strictly speaking true. She liked Cora a lot, and Belford was all right as well, really. And the dungeons weren't the way she'd always imagined them to be; her lakeside view from her bedroom window was beautiful. "Bits aren't so bad," she admitted at length.
"All houses have got some people in them who are difficult to get on with," her dad said gently. "I know I didn't always get on well with everyone in Gryffindor. I even had a big row with your Uncle Ron once and we weren't speaking for ages. Seamus Finnegan in my dormitory avoided me for the whole of my fifth year because of rumours the Daily Prophet were spreading about me."
"But, that's not the same as being in Slytherin," Hope argued.
"Being in Slytherin doesn't make you into a different person, you know," her dad replied. "You're still the same person we love."
Hope choked and swallowed hard. They still loved her? Even after all this bother she'd been causing because of her Sorting?
"Y-You must've been really disappointed in me when you found out," she croaked.
"Disappointed?" Her father shook his head. "No. We were worried about you, mostly because of all the stories we'd told you about the less nice Slytherins when we were at school. We thought we might have made things more difficult than they needed to be for you. Granny was furious when your letter arrived and we saw that the Sorting Hat had upset you so much, so she sent it a Howler."
"A Howler?" Hope choked back a giggle.
"A really good one," her father chuckled. "An amazingly loud rant about how dare it traumatise her granddaughter like that and it had better be careful the next time she was at Hogwarts because she'd hunt it down, unpick its seams and it could see how much sorting it could do then. By the time she'd finished, it wouldn't be the Sorting Hat any more, it'd be the Sorting Cloth!
"Of course, hats don't have hands, so it couldn't open the letter, and Granny had bewitched it so that no one else could either. According to Professor McGonagall, it exploded a couple of days ago and singed the brim quite badly."
Hope laughed.
"No one loves you any less for being in Slytherin," her dad continued. "We love you for being you."
"But Slytherins aren't nice," Hope interjected.
"What? All of them?"
"W-ell, Cora's ok, and I suppose Belford and some of the boys are all right, but Parkinson's a cow," Hope said honestly.
"Her sister was as well," her dad chuckled, "but she shouldn't be someone you can't deal with, although you might want to remove the evidence from your trunk before Snape discovers it next time."
Hope hesitated, and glanced up at her dad. His green eyes twinkled down at her, looking very much like her own.
"Dad, I've not hurt Mum or the baby with all this, have I?"
Her father rested his head against the tree trunk, closed his eyes and sighed. Then he looked back at his daughter. "I don't know, Hope," he admitted. "It wasn't the best of things you could have done, but we've just got to deal with things as well as we can. The most important thing is that you're all right and we know what's best to do from here. Was it all because you were put into Slytherin?"
Hope's insides sank. It all sounded so stupid now. It was just a house like any other one, wasn't it? She was still having the same lessons with the same teachers as she would have had in Gryffindor. She could still play Quidditch. She could still use the same library. She could still make friends and have fun.
"I didn't want to be in Slytherin," she said in a small voice. "I thought I'd let you all down. I wanted to come home."
"And when they wouldn't let you home, you tried to get expelled," her father finished up the sentence for her. Hope nodded miserably. "Hope, look at me." She did as she was asked, and her father spoke again in a very gentle tone. "Do you want to come home? If you're so unhappy here, I'd rather take you home with us today than let you struggle on feeling the way you do. We can sort things out so that you can follow the basic curriculum at home under our supervision, or like Snape said, we can think about Beauxbatons or Durmstrang if you'd rather. None of us want you to be miserable."
Hope's mind whirled. Her dad meant this. She could walk free from Slytherin today if she wanted to. She could go home.
.But then again, it would mean leaving a lot of things behind. Her family weren't disappointed in her like she'd thought they'd be. They were proud of her for being at Hogwarts and knew she had it in her to be a success. Leaving would mean letting Cora deal with Parkinson and Lambert on her own; leaving would mean that she'd never get to do the things at school she'd always dreamed of; leaving was the coward's way out, and Hope Potter was no coward.
"I want to stay," she heard herself saying.
"Even if it means staying in Slytherin?"
"Even then," she said.
"So no more trying to get yourself expelled," her father said firmly. "We don't expect you to be an angel, but neither do we expect you to be out looking for trouble, or getting poor old Robert into trouble either."
"Cora was with me," Hope explained. "That's why I couldn't let Snape know I was there last night. I couldn't get her into trouble as well, or I'd have let him know I was there as well when he caught Robert."
Her father chuckled. "I'm saying nothing about you staying within bounds at night," he winked. "I was wandering around far more than I should have ever been, but it was usually for a good reason."
"I was trying to come home to talk to you. Stealing the broom to come home didn't help because of the wards," Hope whispered, "but there's a secret passageway on the fourth floor through to Hogsmeade."
Her father gave a sudden start.
"How do you know about that?" he demanded.
Hope shrugged. It was true, she didn't know how she knew her way around the castle. Somehow, this was something she didn't want to tell her dad about. Not yet, anyway. He had enough to worry about without her telling him about strange things that she thought she was seeing.
"I think you might have told me about it once," she said.
"I'd be surprised," her dad said. "That one was blocked back in my days at school, and we never used it."
"Maybe it was one of Aunt Hermione's books then," Hope suggested.
"Could be," her dad agreed. He reached over and dug deeply into one of his cape pockets, and withdrew a very old and tattered piece of parchment. And unfolded it so she could see it clearly. She stared curiously at it, wondering why her father had kept something like that.
"For goodness sakes, don't tell your mother I've given you this," her dad chuckled, "but I really think that if you're going to be doing something you shouldn't be doing, not that you would ever dream of doing something like that, but if you were, then you should be prepared. Snape knows about this map and so does Remus, so be careful about who sees it. Remus was one of its creators, along with my dad and his best friend, Sirius."
"A map? What does it do? I can't see anything."
Her father grinned wickedly and pointed his wand at the map. "I solemnly swear that I am up to no good," he said.
Lines suddenly shot out, covering the parchment at a rapid speed. Towers and turrets were outlined, and small dots appeared, clustered into classrooms and one or two stray students and staff pacing around in the corridors.
"It's a map of Hogwarts," her father explained, "showing everyone within the castle and the grounds. There we are," and he indicated two little dots on the southern shore of the lake, clearly labelled with their names. "And there's your mother," he pointed out a new dot in what Hope recognised as Remus' office.
"Wow!" she breathed. "Look! There's my class in History of Magic. Corona Maguire, Matthew Belford, Priscilla Parkinson. Look Dad! Everyone's in there."
Her father grinned at her enthusiasm. "It's particularly handy when you're out of bounds at night. You can see someone coming." He looked meaningfully at her. "No more upsetting your mum."
"I won't," Hope promised.
"Then this is yours for the time you're here," her father said, and left the parchment in her hands. "Tap it again with your wand and say, 'Mischief Managed' when you're finished and the parchment turns blank again. It looks like it's altered a bit to suit the new layout of the castle as well, so you should find it's pretty useful."
"It's brilliant. Thanks, Dad!"
They sat in silence for a while, Hope watching the tiny dots on the map swarming around the place like thousands of tiny ants. The bell had evidently gone and she was absorbed in seeing the students flow from one lesson to the next, jumbling and swirling round the paper.
"You're going to have to apologise to Snape, you know?" her father said at last.
"I know," she replied. "I'll try my hardest not to let you down any more. I'm sorry, Dad."
"It'll be fine, Hope," he reassured her. "Snape will probably have you in detention for a while just to prove his point." Hope groaned and pulled a face. Her father laughed. "You'd have had the same punishments at home, so don't go complaining about that, but I am going to talk to him about what's been happening and why."
"But Dad."
"Trust me." He smiled at her once more and got to his feet, dusting down his robes as he did so. "Is there anything else you want to talk to me about before we go back?"
Hope shook her head. "Lessons and things are going pretty well really," she said as they started off round the lake again to complete their circuit. "History of Magic is dead boring, but I really like Transfiguration. I stuffed it up a bit the other day. You know how you get matches to turn into needles?"
She rattled on, telling her father stories about the things that had happened when she was using magic. He laughed at the things that had gone wrong, and was duly impressed at the switching spells she'd performed.
When they finally got back to the castle, he have her a huge hug, and sent her on her way to lessons. She bounded up the stairs, grinning back at him one last time. They loved her and everything was all right again. Portraits smiled and waved at her as she went past and she felt like a huge weight of misery had been lifted from her. Perhaps school was going to be fun after all.
It was with a much happier heart that she arrived in Professor Flitwick's lesson and to her delight, she managed to levitate her feather just below the ceiling, rather than sending it crashing through to the classroom above as she had last week.
After dinner that evening, she reported to Professor Snape's dungeon, prepared for another lengthy detention. She discovered her head of house at his desk, briskly marking his way through a pile of essays. He glanced up as she approached his desk and put his quill down.
"I'm sorry for my behaviour, Professor," she said, and actually meant it this time. "I've had a long chat with my dad and I promise I won't do anything like that ever again. I know I've caused a lot of work for you and I'm sorry."
"I understand you've been unhappy here," Snape said.
Hope nodded. "I thought everyone would be disappointed in me. I know that's not true now. I'm going to try a lot harder to make them proud of me."
"Good." Snape seemed to be almost smiling at her. "I understand from your father you are somewhat skilled at flying and potentially good on the Quidditch field. From my own observation of you on that stolen broom, it would appear to be a fair assessment. Should today's improved effort and behaviour continue, I will consider permitting you to try out for the Slytherin Quidditch team as a reserve. The rules were once bent in favour of your father and Gryffindor, I cannot see why the no first year rule could not be flexed once more to benefit yourself and Slytherin."
"Sir!" Hope could barely contain her excitement. "You mean it? I could really.? Honestly?"
"Certainly," Snape said abruptly. "However, should your behaviour and application in lessons fail to meet acceptable standards, you will not be permitted to fly. Is that clear?"
"Perfectly clear, Professor," Hope was virtually dancing on the spot. This was amazing. How on earth had her dad managed to talk Snape into this?
"Now there are a stack of cauldrons for you to clean, without magic," Snape said and lazily waved his hand in their direction. "Should you complete the next two weeks satisfactorily, I will permit you to send for your broom from home."
Hope bounced delightedly across the classroom and rolled up her sleeves with enthusiasm. The grease and grime awaiting her could not do anything to quell her delight, and she cheerfully tackled the towering stack of revolting cleaning. She was going to play Quidditch!
Several hours later, she toiled her way back down to the common room and collapsed beside Cora and the others. She wiped a grimy sleeve across her forehead and was about to settle back in her chair when a persistent tapping made her look round. A dark silhouette of an owl was perched on the windowsill and as she opened it, Balthasar hopped through it, onto the arm of her chair. He had a small scroll of parchment tied to his leg and Hope unravelled it quickly. The message was in her dad's handwriting, and the single line it contained made her beam uncontrollably.
"Looking forward to cheering Slytherin on in the next match."
Catch 22
"Mum? Dad?"
Hope glanced nervously from one to the other. Her mother's face was flushed and she looked ready to explode at any second, but her father's expression was worse. He stared gravely at her and slowly raised his eyebrows. Nothing was said.
She gulped.
Snape cleared his throat, and Hope's eyes flickered wildly in his direction. She'd come here for a reason, and she was in so much trouble now that she couldn't possibly make it any worse.
"Professor," she said, rushing through this before she had a chance to change her mind. "It was my fault that Robert was out of bounds last night. I was there too but you didn't see me."
"How courageous of you," Snape drawled. "Extraordinarily kind of you to hide and let your friend take all the blame."
"It wasn't like that," Hope protested, feeling her temper begin to flame.
Snape's fingers drummed on the desk. "So what was it like exactly? Perhaps you'd care to explain?"
All eyes in the room seemed to bore into her and Hope's cheeks burned. She opened her mouth to try and explain, but no words came out.
"Come on, girl!" Snape barked.
Hope chewed on her lip and thought carefully. She couldn't explain why she hadn't spoken out last night; whatever happened, she couldn't get Cora into trouble. She'd just have to trust luck and keep her fingers crossed that Robert would forgive her when she had a chance to explain to him later.
"Hope, I suggest you tell us what's going on," her father's voice was low and controlled. She hung her head and refused to meet his gaze, her stomach squirming more than ever. "The owl we got from school was surprising, to say the least."
Hope's head jerked upwards, only to catch sight of Snape rifling officiously through a stack of parchment on the desk before him.
"Surprising is scarcely the word I would have chosen, Potter," he sneered, "but then you always were the one to try and wheedle your way out of wrongdoing. Rules didn't apply to you, did they? Well I can assure you that they certainly apply to your daughter and Slytherin House."
There was a screech of a chair being pushed back, and Hope flinched to see her father beginning to get to his feet, fury blazing in his eyes. Her mother's hand shot out and caught him by the arm, and the two exchanged a look that seemed to contain an unspoken conversation. Slowly, slowly her father sank back into his seat and glared venomously at the Potions Master.
"Let me see," Snape's voice was unyielding and his black eyes glittered over the sheaf of papers before him, "possession of a forbidden substance resulting in severe damage to greenhouse three."
"Forbidden?" Hope blurted out. "Where does it say that Ivy's Revenge is forbidden?"
There was a sudden intake of breath and Hope saw her mother give a curt nod of her head as if she suddenly understood. Her lips pursed themselves into a thin line, and on occasions like this, when Mum really, truly looked like Granny, Hope knew it was time to dive for cover and hope the roof stayed on after the explosion. She definitely didn't fancy her uncles' chances once her mum got hold of them later today.
"No student must bring with them harmful substances." Snape's lofty intonation sounded delighted.
"Doesn't that refer to potions?" Hope's father queried. "I seem to remember- "
"Seeds that happened to smash several panes in the greenhouse, injure several students, traumatise some young mandrakes to the point of needing Professor Sprout's twenty-four hour care and that's not to mention disrupting an entire lesson." Snape snapped back. "I'd say that was harmful enough. Then there was the occasion when Miss Potter decided to terrorise one of her classmates in the dormitory."
Hope bit her lip and stared at her shoes. They were scuffed today, not polished like they usually were. She could see the scratches from where she'd tripped over the bucket in the cupboard with Cora and Robert. Had that really only been yesterday? It seemed like so much longer.
"Savage Sheets, I believe they are called," Snape drawled. "Miss Parkinson has been suffering from nightmares ever since."
"Parkinson?" Her father's voice sounded curious rather than angry. "As in Pansy?"
"Her youngest sister," Snape acknowledged.
"And did you find out what she'd done to provoke Hope?" her father demanded. Hope glanced up, her eyes wide with shock. Her heart was thudding madly in her chest. Her dad wasn't mad with her? Then maybe. maybe.
"I suppose you'll be accusing the entire staff of having a vendetta against her next?" Snape said sharply. "What excuse can you provide for her casting charms on the staff breakfasts?"
"She did what?" Her mother evidently couldn't hold back any longer.
"Altered the appearance of various members of staff to expose them to ridicule." Snape looked more disapproving them ever.
"Oh?" The interest from her father was unmistakeable.
"Very much so," Snape retorted. "Minerva McGonagall in tight-fitting black leather; I ask you to imagine the affront of it! Hardly becoming to a witch in her position."
"I put Uncle Remus in a long golden evening gown as well," Hope admitted, wriggling awkwardly on the spot, "but Professor Snape's transformation went a bit wrong."
"Hope!"
"Indeed." Professor Snape glared in her direction.
"I'm very sorry for all the pink feathers, Professor. I really meant to turn you into a whole flamingo and I don't know where the satin negligee came from," Hope confessed.
Her father choked and coughed violently for a few moments, turning puce as he struggled to control himself. He got up and paced to the towering bookshelves at one end of the dungeon, his shoulders shaking violently as he stared at the glittering golden titles on the spines and heaved in deep breaths.
Finally he turned back to the rest of the room.
"That was very wrong, Hope!" His face was stern but his voice warbled. "You should have known better."
"Then she admits she was out of bounds last night," Snape interjected firmly. "One broken rule after another. She's caused chaos by switching the contents of the Gryffindor and Slytherin common rooms around. Then she injures herself by stealing a broom and flying into the wards, she injures others with her impetuous acts, and she's spent her entire time since she got here on detention. If she continues to behave like this, I'm afraid we will be unable to keep her here."
"And Circinus has agreed to that?" her mum demanded, her dark eyes glittering fiercely at the Potions Master.
"He has been informed of the situation, yes. If a student fails to respond to the discipline of the school, there is no other alternative. Perhaps Beauxbatons or Durmstrang may be more suited to her needs?"
"Or perhaps you just need to talk to her and find out what's going on," Ginny retorted. She stroked the roundness of her stomach as if to soothe the child within. "This is ridiculous. Remus, Minerva, Hagrid. there are plenty of staff who know what Hope is usually like. There's something going on that none of us know about and you haven't bothered to find out."
"Miss Potter?" Snape's eyes glittered as he stared at her. Hope glared back and remained mute. He'd only torment her if he knew what she was really thinking. "If your mother is correct, perhaps you'd like to make some comment and explain the reasons for your behaviour?"
Hope glanced across at her parents and caught her dad's eye. She gave him a pleading look, hoping he'd understand. After a couple of moments he nodded and cleared his throat.
"This is getting us nowhere, Professor. Might I suggest that Hope and I take a walk around the grounds. We'll see if we can get to the bottom of the matter."
"I hardly think." Snape began, but Harry interrupted.
"Do you want this sorted out or not?" he demanded. Snape inclined his head stiffly to acknowledge that he did. "Then let me speak to my daughter." He turned back to his wife. "Ginny, it'll be fine, I promise. Why don't you go and relax with Remus for a while. Even if he's teaching this morning, he won't mind you resting in his rooms until I get back. You really shouldn't have come at all, you know."
"I'm staying until I make sure that Hope is all right," Ginny said fiercely. "Snape has always had it in for all things Potter, and it seems that our daughter is no exception. After all, why break the habit of a lifetime?"
"I have been more than tolerant," Snape hissed back. "As you may be aware, your daughter does have potential, but she is currently more of a liability than an asset to the school."
Her mother's face reddened and her eyes flashed. "Because of the way you're treat-"
"Give me some time," her father interjected, his voice calming and reassuring. "I presume Hope can be excused from her lessons for an hour or so?"
Snape nodded curtly. "It shall be arranged. I am available after third year Potions to discuss the matter further."
"Good," her father commented.
He helped his wife out of her chair and slowly they made their way towards Hope and the door. Hope saw her father wink at her and she gave him a small smile in return. A few moments later and they were in the corridor, with Snape's door closed firmly behind them.
The torches flamed brightly, dancing in their sconces and illuminating the passageway in a patchwork of warm light and dark shadow. They could hear nothing but the distant sounds of the school preparing themselves for the day ahead.
"He's still a git after all these years," Hope's mother exploded. "How dare he be like that?"
"I'm sorry, Mum."
"So you should be!" she snapped. "Seriously, Hope, I don't know what's got into you, but we're worried enough right now without you going and doing all this as well. What were you thinking?"
Hope felt hot tears beginning to flood her eyes. She hadn't thought about that at all. Dad and Mum were really worried about this new baby, and she'd known that Mum hadn't to be stressed any more with things. And then she, Hope, had gone and done this. What if she'd hurt the baby or Mum with the way she'd been behaving?
Then she felt gentle arms around her.
"I'm sorry, sweetheart. I shouldn't have said all that," her mum said, hugging her more tightly and kissing her on her forehead. "Don't worry. We'll sort it all out, whatever it is. Dad and I will stay until it's fixed."
"We will," her dad echoed. "Ginny, will you be ok? You'll send someone if you need me?"
Her mum smiled weakly back at him and then smoothed Hope's hair back from her face. "I'll go and see Remus and see what he has to say. I can't imagine the picture's as black as Snape is painting it anyway."
"It is," Hope said glumly.
"I'm sure I've done worse," her father chuckled and took his daughter's hand in his. "Come on, let's go for a walk."
The three of them parted company in the entrance hall. Ginny made her way slowly up the marble staircase, and Harry paused, watching her for a while, as if to reassure himself, before he finally turned to Hope and raised his eyebrows.
"Any preference?"
She shook her head, and followed him out of the front door, down the steps and onto the Hogwarts lawns that sloped down in front of the castle and lead to the lake.
It was a sunny morning, with a slight nip of freshness in the air. Birds wheeled overhead, chattering and cawing to each other in a cacophony of discordant tunes. The trees rustled in the breeze, their leaves still green for now, but with hints of autumnal yellow for those who cared to look.
Hope shivered slightly.
"Cold?" her dad asked.
She shook her head, but he swept off his cloak anyway and draped it round her shoulders. She smiled to see it flowing out on the ground behind her like a coronation train. It reminded her of when she used to play dressing up in some of mum's robes when she had been younger and pretending to be a princess. That was back in the days when everything was perfect, not like now. A muttered spell and the fabric shrank upwards, until it brushed around her ankles.
"Suits you," her father laughed, "but you're not keeping it." He took her hand again and they wandered in silence towards the lake. Hope kept shooting sideways glances up at him, trying to work out what he was thinking, but his face was impenetrable.
He turned anti-clockwise to follow a well-trodden earthen path around the lake. The path was worn smooth through years of use and twisted its way along the shore. Tree roots jutted out and crossed their way, but they strolled on in silence. A tentacle lazily broke through the surface of the water and splashed back down again, making the lake glitter as millions of little droplets rained back down again.
Finally her father paused and clambered easily over the roots of a particularly large tree. Hope followed him, wobbling slightly over the unfamiliar ground and using her hands to steady herself in case she toppled forwards and landed in the lake. She rounded the corner and found her dad sitting in a sheltered spot, on a large root that protruded from the ground before sinking back into the depths of the earth once more. He smiled and patted the space next to him, indicating that she should join him.
"Your mum and I used to come here a lot," he explained, and stared out across the water. "It was somewhere we could sit and talk without other people bothering us all the time. She yelled at me once, right here, for trying to be responsible for things that weren't my fault. I didn't understand what she meant at the time, but now I know she was right."
"You really loved it here, didn't you, Dad?"
"And you don't?"
Hope shook her head and stared out across the rippling lake. She waited for her dad to say something, but he didn't. The warmth of his body beside hers was reassuring. Hope took a deep breath. He was waiting to hear what she had to say.
"I'm in Slytherin, Dad."
There it was. The words that had made her entire world end. The words that must have crushed her family when they read them in her letter. She was in Slytherin.
"I know." His words were very matter-of-factly spoken. There was no trace of disappointment in his tones. Hope whirled around to stare at him, her jaw hanging open in surprise.
"B-But it's Slytherin," she managed to say. "Not Gryffindor."
"And you're you, not me," he replied.
"But I wanted to be like you," she whispered. "I wanted to be like Mum, and Granny and Grandpa and Uncle Ron and. I didn't want to be different."
"You're not so different," he smiled and ruffled her hair with his hand.
"I'll bet the hat didn't even think of putting any of the rest of the family in Slytherin," she grumbled, and scowled so fiercely at a nearby water rat, that he squeaked in terror and tore off into his burrow at an alarming rate.
"You reckon?" her father laughed.
She glanced up at him curiously.
"I've never told you about my Sorting, have I?" he murmured, hugging her closely. "In fact, come to think about it, your mum doesn't even know about it; neither do Uncle Ron and Aunt Hermione. The hat was very keen to put me in Slytherin. I can still remember what it said, even now. 'You could be great, you know, it's all here in your head, and Slytherin will help you on the way to greatness, no doubt about that.' So I was almost in Slytherin myself. I suppose I should have warned you about it really."
"You were nearly put in Slytherin?" Hope was amazed. She'd had no idea. "How come you ended up in Gryffindor then?"
"I asked the hat not to put me in Slytherin. Like you I'd heard some pretty awful things about people in that house and I thought that any place had to be better than that."
"It is pretty awful," Hope murmured.
"All of it?" Her dad looked carefully at her.
"Yes." Hope stopped dead. No, that wasn't strictly speaking true. She liked Cora a lot, and Belford was all right as well, really. And the dungeons weren't the way she'd always imagined them to be; her lakeside view from her bedroom window was beautiful. "Bits aren't so bad," she admitted at length.
"All houses have got some people in them who are difficult to get on with," her dad said gently. "I know I didn't always get on well with everyone in Gryffindor. I even had a big row with your Uncle Ron once and we weren't speaking for ages. Seamus Finnegan in my dormitory avoided me for the whole of my fifth year because of rumours the Daily Prophet were spreading about me."
"But, that's not the same as being in Slytherin," Hope argued.
"Being in Slytherin doesn't make you into a different person, you know," her dad replied. "You're still the same person we love."
Hope choked and swallowed hard. They still loved her? Even after all this bother she'd been causing because of her Sorting?
"Y-You must've been really disappointed in me when you found out," she croaked.
"Disappointed?" Her father shook his head. "No. We were worried about you, mostly because of all the stories we'd told you about the less nice Slytherins when we were at school. We thought we might have made things more difficult than they needed to be for you. Granny was furious when your letter arrived and we saw that the Sorting Hat had upset you so much, so she sent it a Howler."
"A Howler?" Hope choked back a giggle.
"A really good one," her father chuckled. "An amazingly loud rant about how dare it traumatise her granddaughter like that and it had better be careful the next time she was at Hogwarts because she'd hunt it down, unpick its seams and it could see how much sorting it could do then. By the time she'd finished, it wouldn't be the Sorting Hat any more, it'd be the Sorting Cloth!
"Of course, hats don't have hands, so it couldn't open the letter, and Granny had bewitched it so that no one else could either. According to Professor McGonagall, it exploded a couple of days ago and singed the brim quite badly."
Hope laughed.
"No one loves you any less for being in Slytherin," her dad continued. "We love you for being you."
"But Slytherins aren't nice," Hope interjected.
"What? All of them?"
"W-ell, Cora's ok, and I suppose Belford and some of the boys are all right, but Parkinson's a cow," Hope said honestly.
"Her sister was as well," her dad chuckled, "but she shouldn't be someone you can't deal with, although you might want to remove the evidence from your trunk before Snape discovers it next time."
Hope hesitated, and glanced up at her dad. His green eyes twinkled down at her, looking very much like her own.
"Dad, I've not hurt Mum or the baby with all this, have I?"
Her father rested his head against the tree trunk, closed his eyes and sighed. Then he looked back at his daughter. "I don't know, Hope," he admitted. "It wasn't the best of things you could have done, but we've just got to deal with things as well as we can. The most important thing is that you're all right and we know what's best to do from here. Was it all because you were put into Slytherin?"
Hope's insides sank. It all sounded so stupid now. It was just a house like any other one, wasn't it? She was still having the same lessons with the same teachers as she would have had in Gryffindor. She could still play Quidditch. She could still use the same library. She could still make friends and have fun.
"I didn't want to be in Slytherin," she said in a small voice. "I thought I'd let you all down. I wanted to come home."
"And when they wouldn't let you home, you tried to get expelled," her father finished up the sentence for her. Hope nodded miserably. "Hope, look at me." She did as she was asked, and her father spoke again in a very gentle tone. "Do you want to come home? If you're so unhappy here, I'd rather take you home with us today than let you struggle on feeling the way you do. We can sort things out so that you can follow the basic curriculum at home under our supervision, or like Snape said, we can think about Beauxbatons or Durmstrang if you'd rather. None of us want you to be miserable."
Hope's mind whirled. Her dad meant this. She could walk free from Slytherin today if she wanted to. She could go home.
.But then again, it would mean leaving a lot of things behind. Her family weren't disappointed in her like she'd thought they'd be. They were proud of her for being at Hogwarts and knew she had it in her to be a success. Leaving would mean letting Cora deal with Parkinson and Lambert on her own; leaving would mean that she'd never get to do the things at school she'd always dreamed of; leaving was the coward's way out, and Hope Potter was no coward.
"I want to stay," she heard herself saying.
"Even if it means staying in Slytherin?"
"Even then," she said.
"So no more trying to get yourself expelled," her father said firmly. "We don't expect you to be an angel, but neither do we expect you to be out looking for trouble, or getting poor old Robert into trouble either."
"Cora was with me," Hope explained. "That's why I couldn't let Snape know I was there last night. I couldn't get her into trouble as well, or I'd have let him know I was there as well when he caught Robert."
Her father chuckled. "I'm saying nothing about you staying within bounds at night," he winked. "I was wandering around far more than I should have ever been, but it was usually for a good reason."
"I was trying to come home to talk to you. Stealing the broom to come home didn't help because of the wards," Hope whispered, "but there's a secret passageway on the fourth floor through to Hogsmeade."
Her father gave a sudden start.
"How do you know about that?" he demanded.
Hope shrugged. It was true, she didn't know how she knew her way around the castle. Somehow, this was something she didn't want to tell her dad about. Not yet, anyway. He had enough to worry about without her telling him about strange things that she thought she was seeing.
"I think you might have told me about it once," she said.
"I'd be surprised," her dad said. "That one was blocked back in my days at school, and we never used it."
"Maybe it was one of Aunt Hermione's books then," Hope suggested.
"Could be," her dad agreed. He reached over and dug deeply into one of his cape pockets, and withdrew a very old and tattered piece of parchment. And unfolded it so she could see it clearly. She stared curiously at it, wondering why her father had kept something like that.
"For goodness sakes, don't tell your mother I've given you this," her dad chuckled, "but I really think that if you're going to be doing something you shouldn't be doing, not that you would ever dream of doing something like that, but if you were, then you should be prepared. Snape knows about this map and so does Remus, so be careful about who sees it. Remus was one of its creators, along with my dad and his best friend, Sirius."
"A map? What does it do? I can't see anything."
Her father grinned wickedly and pointed his wand at the map. "I solemnly swear that I am up to no good," he said.
Lines suddenly shot out, covering the parchment at a rapid speed. Towers and turrets were outlined, and small dots appeared, clustered into classrooms and one or two stray students and staff pacing around in the corridors.
"It's a map of Hogwarts," her father explained, "showing everyone within the castle and the grounds. There we are," and he indicated two little dots on the southern shore of the lake, clearly labelled with their names. "And there's your mother," he pointed out a new dot in what Hope recognised as Remus' office.
"Wow!" she breathed. "Look! There's my class in History of Magic. Corona Maguire, Matthew Belford, Priscilla Parkinson. Look Dad! Everyone's in there."
Her father grinned at her enthusiasm. "It's particularly handy when you're out of bounds at night. You can see someone coming." He looked meaningfully at her. "No more upsetting your mum."
"I won't," Hope promised.
"Then this is yours for the time you're here," her father said, and left the parchment in her hands. "Tap it again with your wand and say, 'Mischief Managed' when you're finished and the parchment turns blank again. It looks like it's altered a bit to suit the new layout of the castle as well, so you should find it's pretty useful."
"It's brilliant. Thanks, Dad!"
They sat in silence for a while, Hope watching the tiny dots on the map swarming around the place like thousands of tiny ants. The bell had evidently gone and she was absorbed in seeing the students flow from one lesson to the next, jumbling and swirling round the paper.
"You're going to have to apologise to Snape, you know?" her father said at last.
"I know," she replied. "I'll try my hardest not to let you down any more. I'm sorry, Dad."
"It'll be fine, Hope," he reassured her. "Snape will probably have you in detention for a while just to prove his point." Hope groaned and pulled a face. Her father laughed. "You'd have had the same punishments at home, so don't go complaining about that, but I am going to talk to him about what's been happening and why."
"But Dad."
"Trust me." He smiled at her once more and got to his feet, dusting down his robes as he did so. "Is there anything else you want to talk to me about before we go back?"
Hope shook her head. "Lessons and things are going pretty well really," she said as they started off round the lake again to complete their circuit. "History of Magic is dead boring, but I really like Transfiguration. I stuffed it up a bit the other day. You know how you get matches to turn into needles?"
She rattled on, telling her father stories about the things that had happened when she was using magic. He laughed at the things that had gone wrong, and was duly impressed at the switching spells she'd performed.
When they finally got back to the castle, he have her a huge hug, and sent her on her way to lessons. She bounded up the stairs, grinning back at him one last time. They loved her and everything was all right again. Portraits smiled and waved at her as she went past and she felt like a huge weight of misery had been lifted from her. Perhaps school was going to be fun after all.
It was with a much happier heart that she arrived in Professor Flitwick's lesson and to her delight, she managed to levitate her feather just below the ceiling, rather than sending it crashing through to the classroom above as she had last week.
After dinner that evening, she reported to Professor Snape's dungeon, prepared for another lengthy detention. She discovered her head of house at his desk, briskly marking his way through a pile of essays. He glanced up as she approached his desk and put his quill down.
"I'm sorry for my behaviour, Professor," she said, and actually meant it this time. "I've had a long chat with my dad and I promise I won't do anything like that ever again. I know I've caused a lot of work for you and I'm sorry."
"I understand you've been unhappy here," Snape said.
Hope nodded. "I thought everyone would be disappointed in me. I know that's not true now. I'm going to try a lot harder to make them proud of me."
"Good." Snape seemed to be almost smiling at her. "I understand from your father you are somewhat skilled at flying and potentially good on the Quidditch field. From my own observation of you on that stolen broom, it would appear to be a fair assessment. Should today's improved effort and behaviour continue, I will consider permitting you to try out for the Slytherin Quidditch team as a reserve. The rules were once bent in favour of your father and Gryffindor, I cannot see why the no first year rule could not be flexed once more to benefit yourself and Slytherin."
"Sir!" Hope could barely contain her excitement. "You mean it? I could really.? Honestly?"
"Certainly," Snape said abruptly. "However, should your behaviour and application in lessons fail to meet acceptable standards, you will not be permitted to fly. Is that clear?"
"Perfectly clear, Professor," Hope was virtually dancing on the spot. This was amazing. How on earth had her dad managed to talk Snape into this?
"Now there are a stack of cauldrons for you to clean, without magic," Snape said and lazily waved his hand in their direction. "Should you complete the next two weeks satisfactorily, I will permit you to send for your broom from home."
Hope bounced delightedly across the classroom and rolled up her sleeves with enthusiasm. The grease and grime awaiting her could not do anything to quell her delight, and she cheerfully tackled the towering stack of revolting cleaning. She was going to play Quidditch!
Several hours later, she toiled her way back down to the common room and collapsed beside Cora and the others. She wiped a grimy sleeve across her forehead and was about to settle back in her chair when a persistent tapping made her look round. A dark silhouette of an owl was perched on the windowsill and as she opened it, Balthasar hopped through it, onto the arm of her chair. He had a small scroll of parchment tied to his leg and Hope unravelled it quickly. The message was in her dad's handwriting, and the single line it contained made her beam uncontrollably.
"Looking forward to cheering Slytherin on in the next match."