When the days grew colder, Remus began to think about the day he would have to leave Hogwarts and go home for another three weeks of holidays. Before Christmas everyone usually got excited about what presents they might get, how big their Christmas tree was going to be this year, and, not to forget, what a marvellous treat it would be to see one's parents and siblings again after such a long time. Remus, of course, had no siblings to look forward to, but he had a wonderful pair of parents and an auntie, who never spoke much, but was the best cook in the whole world. Also, Remus had a tortoise called Bight, whom he had sadly not been allowed to bring to Hogwarts, and a goldfish in a jar.
Since Remus had got bitten by a werewolf at the age of three his mother had often said how lucky they were to live so far away from civilisation, because the danger of Remus savaging a human being in this part of the country was about as likely as the probability of his father getting bitten by a sheep.
That was his mother for you.
Remus had considered staying at Hogwarts over the holidays, seeing as James and Peter had decided to stay as well. But he knew he would not. The longing to see his family again was stronger, plus it would be a transformation-free vacation for the first time in years.
Sirius, as he informed his friends grudgingly in the darkness of the Gryffindor common room, had no choice again but to go home, as his family's Christmas dinner was traditionally part of their annual schedule. Remus noted that the same seemed to account for other underage members of the Black family. ('Black' in its broadest sense, of course - 'pureblood' might have been a more appropriate label - or not.) Malfoy, Snape, Narcissa Black, and her sister Andromeda were all preparing for their journey home, the latter of the two sisters obviously as reluctantly as Sirius.
Remus had had a few very interesting chats with Sirius's brown-haired cousin, learning that by far not all members of Slytherin house were as conceited and unapproachable as James tended to assume.
Andromeda, oppressed by both, the exemplary image her sister had left (being multiple winner of several awards) and the responsibility she felt she had for her younger sister Narcissa had a few very valuable opinions about her close relatives and the political situation outside Hogwarts on the whole.
'It is quite insane,' she quietly told Remus, Sirius and James during homework prep on a wet and windy Friday afternoon near the end of November. 'Everyone seems upset about something these days, but no one actually knows what about, nor what to do against it. Have you noticed everyone is talking about 'Pureblood' pride, yet no one seems able to define the term properly? I mean - what is a Pureblood? How can you tell that you aren't... what do I know,' she grinned, 'three-quarter-blood or something? Some people have never even met their grandparents due to the great war in the nineteen-forties.'
Sirius was balancing his chair on its hind legs, getting on Remus's nerves by pricking his back with a small, black quill every now and then.
'I think the difference between a Pureblood and a normal wizard comes down to attitude,' he said carelessly. 'I mean - it's nothing to do with the actual blood anyway, has it? So one might just as well decide that Purebloods are all those incorrigible idiot members of the old families, who...'
'They'd still see you as pure-blood, though,' said Andromeda. 'And you are not running around, making up songs about what you would like to do with Cornelius Fudge's head.'
James laughed. 'He is making up songs telling what he would like to do with Robertson's, though.'
'But anyway,' said Sirius quickly, throwing an angry glance at James, 'everyone's just making up a lot of crappy reasons to bang each other's head, don't you think?'
'You think it'll come that far?' said Remus quietly. 'Is it bad enough to start a war?'
'It is certainly bad enough to give one or the other teacher a bad headache,' replied Andromeda thoughtfully. 'And if McGonagall's worried, then there is usually a reason to it.'
'McGonagall is worried?' said Sirius, frowning. 'I thought she was always like that.'
'You haven't known her for very long, I take it,' replied Andromeda. 'It is only since last year that she started bustling around, being all nervous, starting to mutilate her speech... It's got to do with her family, though I am not entirely sure what.'
'Meaning she was different before that?'
'Lots,' said Andromeda. 'She used to be the usual Scot - quiet, slightly sarcastic... but boiling under the surface.'
'Well, she's not like that now,' said James thoughtfully. 'I bet it's us. Our year is too stressful for her.'
Sirius grinned. Peter laughed.
Remus, however, remained quiet and rather thoughtful in his seat. 'I daresay that we're not the reason,' he said, as earnest as ever. 'But what gave you the idea that there is going to be a war, Andromeda?'
'Oh... you hear things,' said the sixth-year vaguely. 'You know. When you're out there. I have a few very interesting people in my year.'
She had lowered her voice to a level of almost complete silence by now and their heads were so close together that Remus could feel the warmth of James's breath on his shoulder beside his ear.
'There is a plot,' she said. 'I believe that most terrible things are about to happen at Hogwarts. And there is nothing either of us can do against it, because when it comes down to politics, a student is usually as helpless as a dead fly in a water jar.'
'How do you know all that?' whispered James. 'This sounds like you have been taking part in some sort of secret conspiracy.'
'Ha!' said Andromeda, straightening up again in a hurry. 'Don't be ridiculous. Me? No way.' She got up and bustled over to a few of the boys' classmates, who were diligently bent over their various essays and started correcting their mistakes.
James shook his head. 'She must be out of her mind,' he said.
'Yes,' said Peter. 'But I don't think she was making a joke.'
'I am going to ask Balbina what she thinks about it,' remarked Remus very quietly.
Only Sirius was sitting on his chair, in a normal position for once, staring at the top of his desk, wearing an unfathomable expression, saying nothing - for once.
The Slytherin common room was very quiet during prep time, Severus thought. This was, most probably, because everyone below sixth form, except for him, was sitting in the Great Hall or, indeed, excused off sick, which meant that they were actually lying in their beds, curing their various illnesses, or at least pretending to do so.
Severus had been sitting on the common room's small leather couch for almost two hours now, staring into the flickering fireplace, trying to make sense of all the things that had been going on in his head lately. Lots of good things, and bad ones, and those he could not define as either.
First, Skein had disappeared. A definite bad. His friend Skein, who had always had the best of advice for him, and who had used to be there when everyone else had chosen to turn their back on him, had suddenly stopped appearing in situations of need. Instead, Severus had noted not without a certain mystification, Professor McGonagall had made it a habit to have him stay after Transfiguration, just for another few minutes, to recapitulate the lesson's important point. That is, she chose this way of keeping a closer eye on his work rather than putting him down in front of the assembled Gryffindor and Slytherin second-years. Which could actually count as an improvement, he resolved, considering that two weeks had passed now without him making a complete fool of himself in lessons. All in all, he found that Professor McGonagall's manner towards him was changing. Just slightly, he decided, but noteworthy nevertheless. It seemed as if the elderly witch with her emerald robes and black hair was suddenly recollecting the fact that she was a teacher and as such had certain duties to fulfil. But Severus would have swallowed his tongue before analysing any of his teachers' behaviour while they were in earshot, of course.
The most curious development of this term, he found however, had happened to him in Potions. Whereas during his first year at Hogwarts he had started off doing very well in all subjects that had to do with classifying or using plants in all sorts of ways, he found he had lost track of what "Professor Robertson" (having been forbidden to call him Rodney any longer) was trying to teach them in his lessons. Quite frankly, Severus believed that most of what this man issued in ninety minutes of Potions each Friday was a load of rubbish he learnt by heart the day before. But seeing as he had no intention of ruining his end-of-year exam grade, he kept quiet about it and tried to do the various essays on Luring Liquids and How to Use Them in Times of War without complaint.
The last thing that had been on Severus's head for several days now was the matter of going home during the Christmas holidays. His father had sent him a short note that he himself would not be home before the 24th, meaning that Severus had to make his way back from King's Cross all by himself, most probably. Unless his mother's state had stabilised again, which might well be, considering that, as far as he could tell, he had not caused her any trouble in recent months. Severus closed his eyes just for a few seconds, his lips mouthing the silent hope of his mother's recovery, then opened them again - and looked into a pair of cold, dark eyes.
'Good afternoon, Mr. Snape.'
Severus backed away to the edge of the couch and kept staring, trying not to show just how much the person's sudden appearance had thrown him off course. Before he had even time to consider, his mouth had leapt into wild explanations about his reasons for not being in the Great Hall with all the others, but Professor Vector would not hear him out and raised her hand to end his stream of words, an unpleasant expression on her usually reasonable face.
'I am not hearing any more of this useless babbling,' she said sternly. 'I have had enough of your constant being out of bounds. What are you thinking, Mr. Snape, do you believe the school rules do not apply for you?'
Severus fell silent.
'I have had other teachers complaining about you being absent in lessons - without excuse,' said Professor Vector in a quiet and dangerous voice. 'Mr. Filch finds you in all sorts of places at all sorts of times - though, admittedly, it is only by accident that I found out about that - Professor McGonagall tells me that directly after the lesson you are in the least of cases capable of summing up the subject matter... Really, boy, do you live in a dream world?'
Severus hesitated. For quite some time. He was used to people continuing to rage at him if he did, but Professor Vector waited patiently until he had gathered himself enough to give a vague statement on the matter.
'I keep forgetting...'
'Keep forgetting what? Doing your homework? Turning up at lessons? Madame Hooch tells me you have skived off Flying again this week. Is that true?'
Severus shook his head. Professor Vector's voice assumed a murderous undertone.
'Then where have you been?'
Severus did not reply. 'The dungeons,' seemed hardly a thing to say in this situation, even if it was the truth. But he could not even remember which part of the dungeons. Only that he had been seeking some quiet after a long and stressful day's work. Eventually, he shrugged. Professor Vector was not pleased.
'And at the moment you are supposed to be in the Great Hall, preparing your homework,' she said accusingly. 'Is there any logical reason why you would be lingering in the commons instead of doing what is expected of you?'
'I was thinking...'
'I doubt that!' spat the young teacher, looking him up and down with unconcealed anger now. 'And I am at the end of my tether with your dim-witted, immature behaviour! Only children and fools go through life without the faintest reflection of what they are doing or why they are doing what they are. Since you cannot be the latter, having been sorted into Slytherin after all, I expect that you simply need to grow-up. Did you hear me? Grow up, for Merlin's sake!'
Severus was surprised. He had not seen his Head of House this angry before, nor had she ever before seemed to take interest in what he was essentially spending his time with. He inclined his head, looking his Head of House up and down, looking for signs of sarcasm. But there were none. She meant what she said. After a while, he just nodded.
'Alri-' What did his father say when he wanted to end a discussion... 'Very well,' he quickly corrected himself, trying to make his voice sound firm. 'I'll try.'
Professor Vector stared at him, taken aback, just slightly. Apparently, she was not used to students avowing their childishness, but Severus found that doing so would be the quickest way of putting an end to this conversation. Actually, he found himself thinking, this was behaviour which was, in fact, worthy of the house of Slytherin, considering that it said you could use any means to achieve your end. And his end was to get rid of the young Professor, who kept glaring for a while, cleared her throat, and eventually got up.
'Good,' she said sternly, in want of anything better to say. 'Prep time is over, I suppose. But I am seeing you in the Great Hall tomorrow, or I shall not be so... lenient again.'
Severus nodded again. Not speaking. Staring straight at the floor. It's what grown-ups wanted, he found. Children not quite meeting their eyes when they were giving them a lecture. It was usually considered impertinence, not friendliness, he had found, resulting in more lecture - or worse.
He did not raise his head until Professor Vector had left the commons, steaming like an old engine. He grinned. Then, very pointedly, he took out a small notebook, opened the page that said 'November, 3rd week, homework prep', and carefully made a tick behind today's label. Then he got up and went quietly to his dormitory before the other students returned.
