Author's Notes: HUGE apology for the MASSIVE delay. However, I have a pretty good reason – namely the birth of my son, Ian, on January 9th (yes, Severus Snape's birthday… go figure). So between trying to tie up things with work and the new arrival, I haven't had much time to dedicate to this story and I do apologize. (And, no, my husband refused to allow me to put Ian's middle name as Severus.)
I will TRY to wrap up this story by the time the next book comes out, but I don't know if I can. Thank you so much for your patience.
Chapter 22: Déjà Vu All Over Again…
Harry sat at the table in the Great Hall flipping distractedly through his Defense Against the Dark Arts textbook. His concentration was waning as his thoughts often wandered to the tightly folded piece of paper he was using as a bookmark. The parchment was a second clarification that Lestrange had provided him; the second install of a payment in return for the Patronous charm lessons.
The Patronous lessons were slow, mainly as Harry considered, because she was far more concerned at the moment in practicing Occlumency. Either she was truly concerned for his welfare, or she wanted the practice for herself – the later, Harry surmised, was more likely. He did have to admit that she had improved considerably as an Occlumens, as no matter how hard his effort, he could not pull out that one errant memory regarding she and his father in the tunnel. He wondered if the vision was something his own brain had created or it was a concoction of her barely-lucid moments late last fall. She was quite barking mad and perhaps the whole thing was simply the product of a very deluded and hysterical mind.
When they were tired of Occlumency, they would practice the Patronous charm. However, the best she could conjure was a small white cloud-like wisp that probably couldn't defend off a relatively harmless fire newt let alone a Dementor. Regardless of her lack of progress, and her lack of practice, she was surprisingly good to her word and did uphold her promise in time and without hesitation.
The only thing Harry had to produce in addition to the lessons was the right question to ask.
'This is not a free for all; I will not tell you the future nor will I reveal another's secret,' Harry remembered Lestrange telling him quite bluntly, her grey eyes narrowing as she conveyed her insistence. She allowed him some time, a few weeks actually, to ponder his question and the more he thought the more he began to wonder about a great many things. Questions that were long overdue and that perhaps he should be asking Dumbledore himself instead of Lestrange. The more Harry started to think the more he considered that perhaps this was all a bad idea and that he was simply using Lestrange to avoid hard questions that he should be asking others.
And the biggest of those questions had to do with his connection to Voldemort. Dumbledore did tell him of his mother's sacrifice, of how 'part' of Voldemort or at least some of Voldemort's abilities were transferred to him. But Harry had no idea, not a clue as to what in the world was Dumbledore referring when he said 'in essence divided'? But the one thing that really bothered Harry, which as he thought about it he should be relieved, was that Voldemort called off his Death Eaters and has, since Christmas, laid low.
Truth be said, Harry considered, was that as much he wanted answers, he was also quite afraid of what he would find out.
The Prophesy, Harry surmised, should have encouraged Voldemort to have him captured and then killed by Voldemort's own hand – or at least that's what his interpretation would have concluded. But he had simply received the prophesy from Dumbledore and never asked its meaning – he simply assumed that one of them would triumph as a result of one of them killing another and that no one else but each other could kill them. And, on the surface it certainly seemed to be the case. But Voldemort's reaction was quite the opposite; meaning that perhaps there was something he misunderstood. Dumbledore did say that the prophesy was now in Voldemort's hands, yet why the unusual and unexpected change in tactics?
Which only meant that again Dumbledore told him what he wanted him to know and that a larger meaning still eluded him.
Although he was tempted to simply storm into Dumbledore's office and demand answers, he knew – or at least felt – that he'd only be given some detailed response which would hold him quiet for a bit but when he thought about the response later he would realize that it provided little or conflicting information and that it only raised more questions. It wasn't that Dumbledore was lying, but protecting him. Harry tried hard to rationalize what was going on but he was no longer a child and this ongoing game of truthful omission was becoming quite tedious.
So, through this simple clarification he hoped to piece together more clues so that he would have the right questions to ask when he finally confronted Dumbledore. Between the prophesy, the clarification about him which Hermione had asked in her Ancient Runes class, and this clarification Lestrange prepared, Harry felt confident that he would have enough information to perhaps begin forming intelligent questions.
He closed his book and stretched, clearing the table for the plates and settings that would appear momentarily, signaling that breakfast was to begin. He woke up quite early this morning and met Hermione and Ron before their morning prefect duties telling them that he'd meet them for breakfast when they were done. His clarification wouldn't appear on the empty parchment until that evening; Lestrange wanted him to enjoy the Saturday without obsessing about it. He didn't know if she was simply being kind or was foreshadowing the contents.
"I would wager 5 galleons that Hufflepuff wins. Another 3 Galleons that the difference in scores will be exactly 90 points and two Galleons that Hufflepuff catches the snitch." Harry's train of thought was interrupted as he overheard Ginny Weasley talking to some Ravenclaws who were busy scrawling down information and depositing her money into a discreet small brown cloth sac. She produced another, larger pile of Galleons and laid it on the table, carefully making sure no teachers were about. "My brothers wish to triple my bet."
"We're capping bets at 3 Galleons," the one boy, whom Harry knew but could not recall the name at the moment, announced. Seeing Ginny nod in agreement, he returned the excess money and wrote down the bets. "2:1 odds on the winning; 7:1 on the point spread and 4:1 on the snitch. Ravenclaw is greatly favored you know."
"Not like she's lost all year," his companions, a boy whom Harry recognized as Knowles chimed in. "We don't let anyone see our books because we don't want them to copy your bets. Don't know how you do it but…"
"I shall not tell – and that includes my wagers," Ginny said with a smile, making a motion to seal her lips with her fingers. She continued smiling as the boys walked off.
Harry turned and looked at Ginny. "Don't tell me that…" He shook his head. "I saw on the train."
Ginny's face grew pale and she quickly stuttered. "Seriously Harry, everyone does it. Don't tell me you don't have a knut or two on…"
"The gifts on Christmas," Harry said. "I know you don't tutor that much. And besides foretelling the future is Dark Arts…" he warned.
Ginny scooted closer and hissed in his ear. "It is a defined event with defined parameters. It's not like I'm foretelling someone's death. Anyhow, I probably couldn't if I tried."
"Fred and George are behind this, aren't they?" Harry barked, his arms folded and he was looking quite authoritarian.
"I mentioned something about it and they, err… found interest," Ginny admitted. "But really, who is being harmed? It's not like I am using information to cheat people. Anyone could make the same bets…"
"But you know the outcomes!" Harry exclaimed. "Listen, this is a very dangerous…"
"Nonsense!" Ginny replied vehemently. "I have studied this quite thoroughly. You don't actually believe… after all I've been through that I would willingly…" She looked at Harry whose expression clearly conveyed that he still was not convinced. "Listen, certain areas of rune readings are perfectly fine. Clarifications, where someone asks a question about a situation to receive insight, is not Dark Arts…"
"We're talking about foretelling the future," Harry said nodding towards another table where the Ravenclaw bookies were taking more bets.
"Limited divination is considered to be acceptable," Ginny interrupted. "The Ministry Statues on Divination clearly state that any Rune Divinations can be done as long as it focuses on a very near-term event and specific outcomes, and that the information is not used to change events for personal gain. I'm just betting on the match; I don't intend on sabotaging the game so there's a different outcome. It's not really that well defined because, well, not many people can even do it. It's not like true seers who get prophecies that just pop in their heads. That's quite different because their accuracy is much higher. With Runes, most people who even have any talent often ask the wrong questions or mess up the translations. Now the areas that fall into Dark Arts…" she lowered her voice, "those are very open ended and divinations for the purpose of gaining information. Sometimes it's of past events or of personal secrets, other times it to ask about what will happen in the future – an event that you don't know will happen will be revealed. In addition, the ritual is quite morbid – blood offerings and using runes made of sacrificed human bone."
Harry still wasn't entirely convinced, although even he had to admit that he was being a bit of a hypocrite considering his deal with Lestrange. However, he considered, he was simply trying to warn Ginny so that she didn't end up being a tool and suffer the same fate as the Professor. "Fine, but keep it under wraps. You don't need the hassle of being a walking oracle and if the wrong people find out you'll be sold to the Goblins in a heartbeat."
Ginny smiled and touched Harry's arm. "I know that you're trying to help," she said, blushing slightly. As she was putting away her book, both she and Harry jumped as a loud echo of screams filtered through the doors from the corridor and into the Great Hall.
SECTION
The two young Slytherins raced through the castle, finally reaching the destination Ruedella had suggested. They quickly slipped into the room, and locked the door behind them. Panting, they leaned against the large wood door and listened intently as the pursuing footsteps rushed past and then proceeded down another hallway, the echo fading in the distance.
"You call that not trying to bring attention!" Ruedella nearly shouted, but was mindful to keep her voice as low as possible, yet still convey her anger.
"If it weren't for me, we would have been caught!" Severus replied, his black eyes flashing as he wiped his forehead. "I hope that annoying poltergeist floats out to sea! Blasted thing… ruined…" He stopped short as he surveyed the room. Volumes of books lined tall, neat dark wood shelves. In the center was a large table covered with various cauldrons, glassware and ingredients. On the far shelf were more ingredients, each jar and bottle more exotic than the next. "Wasn't this the…"
"The Dark Arts room in which you held your classes?" Ruedella finished. "Yes. Apparently the room is enchanted; provides whatever is necessary if you need it. We were lucky that it showed up." She stopped as her eyes lit on a smaller table with two setting and covered with breakfast food. She scurried down the small flight of stairs that led to the main floor and sat at the table, busily helping herself to some eggs and sausage. "Eat!" she said, motioning towards the table. "I don't know why, but I'm starving."
Severus snorted and sat. He reached for a goblet of pumpkin juice and frowned as Ruedella swiped hers up and held it close for protection. He helped himself to a few small portions of food and ate slowly as he surveyed the shelves of books. Seeing one that caught his attention, he raised his wand and levitated it over. Smiling, he flipped through the pages until he found an article of interest and began reading.
"Discovery Potions and Uses…" Ruedella read the spine of the book and then tilted her head so she could read the article upside-down. "Unveiling Werewolves… a tasteless, odorless and nearly undetectable potions that can determine if a person is a werewolf or not. Simply slip into the drink of said creature in human form and the skin will immediately exhibit tell-tale purple and pink spots…" She looked at Severus as a puzzled expression crossed her face. "Why are you interested in that?"
"Pet theory," Severus said, casually closing the book after committing the items to memory.
"You think someone is a werewolf!" Ruedella cried out. "Who! I bet Hagrid!"
"Hagrid is a giant. Well, at least part," Severus corrected. "Now, do you remember why we are here?" he inquired.
"We were running from the Prefects," Ruedella began.
"And…" he said, motioning impatiently with his left hand.
"You forgot too!" she accused, pointing as he scowled. "A potion and Potter… turned us into children!" She said the last with an air of epiphany. "I suppose we should write this all down. Notes. Yes notes, so we can refer to them to help us remember…" She motioned for Severus to hand her the heavy black satchel. She quickly pulled out some paper, quill and ink and began to write. "At least we know our names. Now how old are we supposed to be…" She looked at Severus who was looking down thoughtfully and then to the wall, where a calendar hung. She got up and grabbed the calendar. "It's February 15th, 1997," she said. "So I am thirty-seven and you are…err.."
"Thirty nine." He said quickly. "We are professors here."
"Of what?" she asked.
"I do not know," Severus added, rubbing his head. "I could teach anything…" His voice dripped of arrogance.
"Right," Ruedella scowled. "Considering that you caught Professor McGonagall's dress on fire, gave Professor Flitwick purple hair when you tried singing charm in his class, and in Care of Magical Creatures caused the unicorns to stampede by your mere presence, I think we can rule you out as a Professor of those subjects. How about either Potions, D.A.D.A. or Herbology?"
Severus folded his arms and nodded. "Sirius Black caused my spell to misfire – that's how the dress caught on fire."
"Still," Ruedella said, looking up from the paper as she wrote, "It isn't exactly your strongest subject."
"Oh, as if you are good in anything!" Severus retorted. "You can't even…" He stopped his tirade and took a deep breath. "We must stop this… we must remember. When you were older… Arithmancy, Ancient Runes, Potions and Charms. I could only say you were exceptionally weak in Transfiguration and Herbology. Still managed somehow to pass your OWLS… if I recall."
"Well, I doubt that I would teach Potions instead of you," Ruedella asserted. "So we can't exactly pinpoint what we teach… err… anything else."
"I know that I hold some important position. Deputy Headmaster, probably," Severus said with some confidence.
"Now you're just being arrogant," Ruedella replied sharply, rolling her eyes as she continued to write. "I'll just write down that you believe you have some other role here but don't know what it is."
The two discussed for some time, with Ruedella taking notes on any tidbits that they could remember. While they talked, Severus poured through the notes he had taken from the office and began to reference books. As he tossed a heavy book on the table with his left hand, his sleeve pulled back revealing his bare forearm. He stopped and made a double take at his arm, pulling the sleeve back further.
"What?" Ruedella asked, noticing his movements.
Severus responded by grabbing her left arm and pulling back her sleeve. Both of their forearms lay side by side, each displaying youthful, unmarked, bare skin. Severus' lips parted and he moved them slowly as he thought. "We are free," he said finally. "From the Dark Lord…" he looked at Ruedella. "Remember…?"
She shook her head affirmatively. "It is fading… the memory is fading… but it is still there." She took a quick look at the satchel, notes and books. "Maybe we should just… well…" she took a deep breath. "No one would be the wiser and we could just…"
"For the time," Severus said in a sad voice as his mind drew another conclusion. "Until we, or at least I, turn seventeen… again…"
"You think this our fate? Regardless…?" Ruedella inquired, her face ashen. "I was always told it was the choices…"
"It is who we are," Severus replied simply. "A second chance to make the very same mistakes but without the wisdom we have… and are losing quickly… now."
"Isn't there something you would change?" Ruedella said as she began to pull her arm away.
"One thing," Severus said, grabbing her arm back. He pulled the girl closer and stroked a finger down her cheek, following an errant tear. "Just one thing," he said with sadness.
SECTION
Students stampeded into the Great Hall, turning over tables and benches; the loud thuds and horrified screams ricocheted off the tall ceiling. Harry grabbed Ginny and they jumped out of the way just in time as their table became overrun with children scrambling to get away. Harry climbed on top of the next table to see what was causing the commotion, and as he did, he saw a gruesome enflamed skull screeching and flying toward him, emitting an unearthly scream as it tried to bite several students.
Harry pulled out his wand, and issued a simple, yet powerful, banishment spell. The skull shrieked as the bright yellow light engulfed the entity and dissolved it.
"Harry, your back!" Ginny's voice rang above the clatter. Harry turned just as two other skulls were just about to bear down on him. As he was about to issue the spell, he was knocked off balance as the table he was on rocked under the motion of the students. He fell backwards, his wand flying helplessly into the air, and landed on the floor with a hard thud, knocking out his breath. Disoriented for a moment he could only look on as the one skull dove for him to attack. Just as it opened its mouth to bite, Harry heard a thunderous voice fill the Great Hall and the skull faded in a harmless whip of smoke.
"What is THIS!" Dumbledore's voice filled the room. Harry could not tell if the wizard was angry or just as confused as the rest. Gingerly Harry grabbed his wand and then started to sit up; he smiled at Ginny who helped him.
"It was some sort of non-corporeal entity," Ernie Macmillian said meekly. He motioned to the other Prefects who had little success in controlling the stampede. "It was horrible, sir. I don't know the boy… a Slytherin… he and another… a girl… were running away… I swear, sir, he knew more curses than most of the seventh years." Ernie looked at the floor sheepishly. "A few of them I never heard the likes…"
Before he could finish, Argus Filch stumbled into the room. The squib's face was ashen white and he panted between words. "Headmaster… you must… see this…"
Dumbledore studied Macmillian for a second and then many of the other Prefects and then Filch in turn, his blue eyes glittering intently. He paused for a second; his head snapping back as a mischievous smile slowly crept across his face. Tilting his head slightly he addressed Filch. "Do you happen to know the name of the boy?"
"I dunno," Filch said truthfully. "I make it a point to know the names of all the students, the Slytherins in particular," the squib said as he rubbed his neck, thinking. "I know that I know him… so familiar… but…"
"Marvolo Borgin, Sir…" Hermione Granger blurted out as she stepped forward. "Ron and I ran into him and the girl this morning in the restricted section of the library… although we did not get her name…"
"Where are the Slytherin Prefects?" Dumbledore inquired.
"They're busy trying to extract Malfoy from the wall," Hermione said. "I sent Ron off to fetch Madame Pomfrey…"
"Oh it was a doozy of a curse, Headmaster," Filch chimed in with a snaggletooth grin. "Likes of which I have not seen since Karkaroff baited one of his students who knew a wee bit more than he expected." Filch, snapped his fingers, "Now who was that… Anyhow," he looked around the room, "Professor Snape is probably out looking for them… there's a couple of wands to be snapped in half and I suppose that I should have an elf begin packing…"
"That won't be necessary for now," Dumbledore said, shaking his head, simultaneously amused and concerned with the squib's enthusiasm. "The 'Borgin' boy," Dumbledore said as he turned to Hermione.
"Not meaning to interrupt, sir," Hermione said quickly, "but after our encounter in the library, I checked with Professor McGonagall and there is no Marvolo Borgin…"
The Great Hall filled with startled mumbles as the students and the handful of present faculty began to talk excitedly among themselves.
"I bet they're a couple of Death Eaters who are trying to infiltrate…" Ernie Macmillian blurted out but was silenced with Dumbledore's waving hand.
"Prefects, kindly escort the students to their dorms. Faculty, please scour the halls and send any students back to their dorms as well and then meet back here in an hour." Dumbledore made the announcement with a clear authoritative voice as he motioned to Professor McGonagall, who just entered the hall, to join him at his side.
"Shall I find Professor Snape?" Filch asked.
Dumbledore smiled and nodded his head agreeably. "Interesting that you should say that, Argus," he replied simply.
SECTION
"I think Ernie Macmillian is right," Ron said as he leaned next to the fireplace in the Gryffindor common room. "I bet some Death Eaters drank some youth potion and came into Hogwarts to spy or otherwise cause havoc."
"And their first stop was the Restricted Section of the Library?" Harry retorted, his tone conveying that he was not entirely convinced.
"Well maybe Voldemort sent them here to look up something?" Hermione replied. "The library is quite extensive and the Restricted section has many volumes that you can't find elsewhere."
"Well, then why try to break into Snape's office then?" Harry replied with a frown on his face. "I mean, granted, Snape probably has a lot of exotic and rare ingredients and such, but probably nothing that couldn't be purchased in Diagon Alley."
"Or Knockturn Alley," Ron added with a laugh. "You have a point, Harry. If they were Death Eaters, they'd want to lie low until they got what they wanted. Snape probably didn't have anything that they couldn't get elsewhere and to risk their lives…"
"Unless Snape was hiding something!" Harry said, snapping his fingers.
"Are you into that 'Snape is not on our side' stuff again because, really, Harry, we discussed this at length before," Hermione snapped.
"No, you misunderstand me," Harry said. "Snape's office is very well protected. After the Gillyweed incident, I know he's upped the wards and protective spells considerably. Now, if I were a Death Eater and needed something in the library and…"
"No, wait…" Ron interrupted as he began to pace in front of the fireplace. "They'd only get one chance. Now… they apparently were not after you, Harry, as dressing up as Slytherins and blowing up Snape's office would not be the best way to get close to you. You see if I were they, I'd dress up as Gryffindors so I could weasel my way into the common room here. I'd also not try to blow up anything, so I don't think you were the target."
Harry looked at Ron, wide eyed. "I'm glad you're on my side, Ron…"
Ron paused, smiled for a second and then continued. "Now… they weren't spies either, because they would know better than to cause a commotion. So, they had to be here because of information. The library, where we first saw the greasy git and his companion and then Snape's office where they got in, stole some papers, tried to get into the back office, but Peeves caught them before he was petrified…"
"What did you say!" Harry jumped up and looked at Hermione.
"Stolen papers!" Hermione hissed. "How did you…"
"When I got Pomfrey," Ron said. "I overheard her talking to McGonagall. They managed to break into Snape's office and his one file cabinet and several drawers in his desk were opened. Protected by identity charms even and some other nasty stuff. They petrified Peeves before they did that mess in the hall…"
"No, the 'greasy gi…'" Harry began but stopped short as the door to the common room opened.
It was rare that the headmaster visited the common rooms of any House, Gryffindor included. His mere presence caused such an excitement that the students began chattering excitedly and others ran up the stairs to fetch those still in the dorms.
"Remus!" Harry exclaimed excitedly and waved to his friend as he approached. "Are you here to…" He stopped talking the moment he looked at Dumbledore who held him in the most unusual gaze.
"Mr. Potter," Dumbledore said quietly. "I believe you have some items that may be of use to us…"
SECTION
Harry handed the silken robe to Dumbledore. "I hope this helps," he said positively. "Do you know who it is? Some are saying it's a Death Eater… but…"
"You don't believe that do you, Harry," Remus said before Dumbledore could.
"Well, I had not seen Snape and… well… erm…" Harry replied.
Dumbledore interrupted. "If you could kindly let us borrow a map. A certain one that was given to you by a certain set of Weasley twins that was constructed by a certain band of 'marauding' students." He smiled and looked at Bill Weasley and Remus Lupin in turn.
Harry fetched his satchel and dug into it for the map. He handed it over to Dumbledore and asked quite plainly. "What's going on, sir?"
"Well since you are helping and your intuition is on the right track," Dumbledore began, "I will trust you with certain… confidential… information. It appears that Professor Snape and Professor Lestrange had a bit of a mishap. I know he was working on a rather complicated elixir and perhaps miscalculated… although this is very much not like him. However, these things happen even to the best of us…"
"They turned younger… now they're posing as students?" Harry said, his eyes wide. "Really? Is it permanent?"
"We don't know, Harry," Dumbledore said truthfully. "It depends on what they did and how soon we can find them. Unfortunately, he and Lestrange broke into his office and managed to get his notes. The fortunate thing was that they were not hurt, which tells me that at least part of their adult conscience and some of their abilities are still intact."
"But the fact that he petrified Peeves and caused the disturbance in the halls when they tried to escape tells us that most of their mental facilities have reverted to a child-like state," Bill added. "We just don't know what we're dealing with."
"Well, I did warn him about Extract of Time," Dumbledore said absently while shaking his head. "In the meanwhile, Harry, I'd advise that you keep with the group when we excuse the students to see the Quidditch match. If he sees you, I believe it might not end well and although your skill is tremendous, Professor Snape even as an apparent third year should not be underestimated. And, thank you, Harry" he said as he began to turn away.
"Extract of Time?" Harry said slowly as he began to sweat. He looked down to the floor and cleared his throat.
"Is there anything you would like to tell me, Harry?" Dumbledore turned back to Harry, his voice low.
"Would it make a difference in a potion should one, say, mix up the ingredients of Extract of Time and, well, say…erm… Essence of Youth?"
END OF CHAPTER