Chapter 4

Without a single thought for the people he left behind, Harry followed after his tutor through the unknown world beneath the school, passages which had been forgotten for centuries. He had expected the dungeons to be dark, dank, even terrifying, covered in moss and chains and old remnants of blood. Probably the result of years of horror movies, he couldn't help but think.

But the dungeons were not dark; rather, bright torches lined every wall, the flickers of shadow and light giving the passageways an almost unearthly glow. Instead of cold, mossy stone, the walls were smooth and clean, not so different to those of the rest of the castle, though newer looking through lack of use. Peering closer, Harry noticed that the walls were engraved with fine, elaborate markings, tiny engravings that must have taken years to complete. The delicate lines were hard to see in places, eroding through the passages of the years, but those Harry could discern showed amazing scenes. Beauty and terror, snakes and lions, grassy fields and dark forests; under the flickering torchlight, the artwork almost seemed to come alive under his fingertips as he raptly traced the intricate designs.

Fascinated, he did not realise that he had stopped following, and nor did he hear the quiet fall of footsteps approaching. A hand gripped his shoulder, shaking him from his reverie, and he quickly turned to defend himself, wand drawn and at the ready. Spying only the black-cloaked shape of his tutor, he smiled sheepishly at his lack of focus. Had he been in a battle, or indeed anywhere outside the safety of Hogwarts' walls, he could have died before he even noticed the danger.

The deep obsidian eyes of his angel looked down in disappointment from behind the white mask, and Harry looked down in shame. After all his hard work to gain his tutor's approval, he had thrown it all away in a moment of unthinking carelessness. He opened his mouth to begin to apologise, but a single raised finger silenced him.

As Harry awaited the inevitable lecture, he instead saw the figure smile slightly, the faint smile of one who has little to smile about. Harry had to strain to catch his next words, as the angel muttered almost to himself. "They are beautiful, are they not? Amazing, such beauty in a place where one expects only terror and ugliness." The voice drifted off into thoughtful silence, and the two stood for some minutes before Harry dared disturb him from his musings.

"Angel?" he asked hesitantly, yet slightly less afraid after the surprising show of humanity. "I should have been paying more attention, I shouldn't have let myself be distracted, I know that I need to have constant vigilance…"

His eyes once more focused on Harry, the Angel interrupted his rambling apologies. "The engravings are indeed enthralling, I myself spent many hours gazing at them when I first came here. They are a small spot of beauty in this dark domain and, if all goes well, you will see them many more times. But at the moment, we need to continue on our journey, lest we run out of time. There is much yet left to learn tonight, child."

Full of joy at the thought he would come here again, and that his Angel was not angry with him, Harry quietly followed the dark figure's sweeping stride through ever more twisting corridors, a maze through which he knew he could never find his way alone. In this world beneath the school, he was completely reliant on his angel. Yet, somehow, that thought did not bother him. After their months of friendship, Harry knew that his angel was the one person he could trust completely.

Eventually, their steps led them to the edge of a large lake, pitch black in the darkness of the underground cavern. Far beneath the dungeons now, Harry couldn't help but be curious as to how the water came to be there, so far from any visible source. Indeed, the cavern itself was improbable, housing such a huge weight above it, one that would surely crush it. Raising his voice as if to compensate for the overpowering silence of the area, he asked the barely visible figure why it was there.

"I do not know," the figure replied, still staring at the obsidian waters. "This area was built long before my time, likely when the castle was first built. From the huge libraries and the nature of the dwellings, however, I assume it was built by Rowena Ravenclaw." At Harry's shocked look, he added, "Surely you did not think Salazar was the only founder to build a secret place?"

"I… never really thought about it," Harry replied, slightly embarrassed. After all, he had been the one to discover Slytherin's chamber and claim Gryffindor's sword, surely he might have thought more about the founders. But history had never really interested him.

"Well, Binns has never been a good teacher, and A History of Hogwarts is a rather dry tome, so I don't suppose many people have developed an interest for the topic, " the angel replied, as if having read Harry's mind. "But with so many years alone down here, I have had little else to do but study and learn. From what I can gather, Rowena created this place to be a refuge for her Ravenclaws, where they could discover all knowledge, rather than merely that in the Hogwarts library or that permitted by the idiots in the ministry."

Harry furrowed his brow in confusion. "But I thought Ravenclaw was a good witch. Why would she condone her students learning dark magic? Why would she want them to spend time in such a dark place, rather than among their classmates and friends?"

The angel smiled, though Harry could not see it in the darkness. "Still a Gryffindor, I see. Harry, you should know by now that just because the ministry classifies certain knowledge as bad, it is not necessarily the case. Magic is neither good nor bad; it is the user's intent that makes it so. Rowena merely wanted to give her students all the knowledge possible. Knowledge is power, you know."

"You're right, Angel," Harry replied, slightly ashamed of his prejudiced comment. "Just like there's nothing wrong with being sly, cunning and ambitious, there's nothing wrong with knowing. It's the desire to harm and destroy that's wrong."

"Exactly." Proud of his student's growth over the past year, the angel reached out to grasp his hand, leading him into the waiting boat. Harry's hand was small against his long artist's fingers, dirty and callused with bitten nails and stubby digits. Staring at the two hands, Harry couldn't help but notice how different they were, how perfect his angel seemed to be. Every move filled with focus, every action determined, every segment of his body calm and controlled, and full of beauty. So why did he have to wear that mask?

The boat docked against a stony beach, and with a silent wave the angel lit a thousand candles, surrounding the now sparkling lake and revealing a house. Well, Harry revised, maybe 'mansion' was a better word for it, for it was huge, with marble fronting like a greek forum or a library or something.

A library. Of course. Where else would Ravenclaw keep her stores of books?

A gentle touch to a statue of an eagle opened the door, and the two figures walked down the purple carpets past rooms upon rooms filled with books. As they passed, Harry thought he saw an arena out of the corner of his eye, with a dueling platform just like the one they used in second year, but they were past it before he could take a second look. Almost running to keep up with his angel's longer legs, he nevertheless found time to ask, "What's the point of this library, though? There've been so many new developments in spells over the years, that a lot of this is pretty much redundant."

"Rowena Ravenclaw was the smartest witch of her age, child. Does it surprise you that she has charms in place so that a copy of every book written turns up here, even those unpublished? If one knew where to look, one could find almost anything one could ever want to read. Even muggle literature, if you so desired."

"Amazing," Harry replied softly, filled with new appreciation for the other founders. "So if Ravenclaw created a hidden self-updating library and Slytherin left a monster to purge muggleborns and I guess information for the secret rituals Voldemort did, what did the other two founders leave?"

"Well, you know that Hufflepuff was the most gentle of the founders, so she developed a secret greenhouse and supply room. It has been known to many Hogwarts nurses over the years, though they take an oath not to share the information. Why do you think the skills of Hogwarts nurses are always so respected? It is not so common for a school nurse to be chosen over those at a hospital."

Harry pondered the answer for a moment, realising how many Madame Pomphrey had healed over the years, without ever seeming to buy potions outside school. Surely the Potions professor could not produce that many, after all. Finally, though, he voiced the question most on his mind. "What of Gryffindor. If I'm his heir, shouldn't I be able to access something? Some way to help me against Slytherin?"

"I do believe that Gryffindor left behind an armoury, where I have no doubt that extremely gaudy sword in Dumbledore's office comes from."

"You've seen the sword?" Harry asked in shock. As far as he knew, no one could get into Dumbledore's office without permission, and before he found it, it had been in the hat. How could his angel have seen it, unless he was as old as the founders.

"No, I'm not that old, Harry." At Harry's shocked expression, he amusedly added, "And no, I'm not reading your mind, you know that your occlumency skill prevents that. You have been practicing, have you not?"

"Yes, of course, angel! I wouldn't let fifth year happen again, you know that!"

"I know, Harry," the older man replied soothingly as he placed a comforting hand on his students arm. "I just know you, Harry. You'll always wear your heart on your sleeve. But no, I am a living man, I was born long after the founders passed away. But just as Slytherin's serpent made his way around the school, so too can I. There are legions of secret passages that your father never discovered, and I know them all. If I truly wish, there is nowhere I cannot go."

"Amazing. I always thought the marauder's map showed everywhere in the school, but there is so much here that I had no idea of. There must be almost half the school in this underground lair and passages."

"Probably, yes. The marauders map only shows places your father and his cronies could find. It doesn't show the Chamber of Secrets, after all."

"You're right." Casting his mind back to the rest of the conversation, he remembered one shocking statement. "Wait, you mean you're human? You're mortal? Why didn't you tell me, why did you tell me you were an angel?"

"Harry. Harry!" Harry calmed down, letting his angel respond. "I never told you I was an angel, I merely told you to call me that. Am I not helping you? Have I not brought you to my home, where none other has ever come? Have I not always been good to you? Why are you angered?"

"I'm sorry, angel," Harry apologised. "It's just, I've always been so honest with you, I've told you things I told no one else. And now I discovered that you've never really told me anything about yourself. It's just a bit of a shock, you know?"

"I know, Harry. It's alright, I'm not upset. You have every right to be curious, after so much time together. Why don't we sit down, and I'll tell you what I can. Okay?"

"Yeah, okay." Opening a pale blue door a few metres down the corridor, the angel led Harry into a small yet cosy room. It was furnished mostly in shades of blue and silver, with a comfortable-looking blue couch next to an elaborate fireplace with designs of water, matching the many ocean scenes on the walls. Lighting the fire with a muttered inferno, the angel sat down and beckoned to Harry to join him. Slightly uncomfortable in the strange room, despite his tutor's clear familiarity, Harry sat slightly stiffly, waiting for his tutor to speak and yet afraid of what he'd hear, afraid of destroying his angel's aura of awe and power in the face of such knowledge.

The older man was quiet for a time, content to gaze into the flickering flames, but at the sight of Harry's discomfort, he knew he needed to make the first move. Sighing, he quietly said, "Harry, I know it's a shock, but I'm still the same person. I'm not going to hurt you, just because I'm a man like you. I'm not going to leave you, now you know my secret. Nothing's going to happen. I won't tell you anything if you don't want to know, I'm perfectly happy to stay like this."

Comforted, Harry looked over at his angel; the now familiar black robes, the porcelain mask that made his fingers itch to see what lay beneath, the enthralling black eyes. Eyes that now failed to hide his pain. Startled, Harry realised that his angel was just like him, a human, alone. And though he didn't want to drive Harry away, it was clear he yearned for someone to talk to, just as Harry had once yearned, before his angel came to him.

Smiling warmly, Harry leaned back against the soft couch, reaching out a hand to gently touch his angel's arm. "I know, I want to know. You're my best friend, angel, and I want to know everything about you. I want to be able to be as good to you as you've been to me." Looking up at his angel's hesitant eyes, still afraid, Harry uttered a single, "Please?"

Unable to deny those pleading emerald eyes, the older man sighed in acquiescence, before beginning. "First of all, my name is Severus Snape."

"Severus…" Harry smiled. "It is a nice name, it suits you. Dark, mysterious, and alluring."

Severus laughed, before continuing his story. "I'm probably about twenty years older than you, I was in the same grade as your parents."

Excited, Harry began to ply him with questions. "Were you friends with them? What were their favourite colours? What were their jobs? Did Dad really win Gryffindor the quidditch cup? Was Mum actually a Gryffindor? Nobody really tells me much about my parents…" he trailed off, when he saw the resigned look in Severus' eyes. "What's wrong, angel?"

"You can call me, Severus, Harry. And no, I wasn't their friend. I was a Slytherin."

Harry saw Severus brace himself, as if afraid of his reaction, and hesitantly put an arm around the older man. "Did you think I'd hate you, Ang… Severus? Just because you're a Slytherin, doesn't change the fact that you're my angel and my friend."

"Thankyou Harry," Severus replied, smiling warmly and returning the younger man's hug. "You're just the first Gryffindor I've met to show that sort of acceptance for a slimy Slytherin."

"Well, if you can put up with a reckless Gryffindor, it can't be so hard." The two men smiled at each other, before Harry ventured a question. "So, if you were in my Dad's year, how did you end up down here? Why does no one speak about you?"

The room seemed to grow chilly, as Severus withdrew from the embrace. "There was an accident," he began coldly, "and that is all I will tell you." Engrossed in obviously unhappy memories, it took Harry's warm hand to bring the Slytherin back to reality.

"It's alright, angel, I won't pry. Everyone's allowed their secrets. Just promise me you'll tell me one day?"

"One day, Harry. One day."

For many hours they sat together in comfortable silence but for the occasional quiet question, Harry's head resting on Severus' shoulder and their arms around each other while they gazed into the blazing fire. And as Harry slowly drifted off to sleep in the warm embrace of his friend, for one time in his life he felt completely safe.

Authors Note:

Well, this chapter didn't turn out exactly as I intended it to, in fact all the stuff about the founder's rooms only popped into my mind halfway through the chapter. I'd actually planned to make Severus and Harry duel, to show Severus as Harry's trainer, but the characters felt otherwise. It's amazing, how stories just take control and write themselves… but I'm getting sidetracked.

Review Responses:

Thanks Hyouden, valanthe and Shadowed Rains. Always nice to know it's liked.

Angel of the Carpathians, I haven't read any of those so-called continuations/sequels, only the original by Gaston Leroux, so I'm afraid I wouldn't know. But isn't Phantom of the Paradise a modernisation? I thought Susan Kay's stuff were the more acknowledged follow-ups. But I could be wrong.

Strega: Yeah, Snape singing would be weird… still, considering his speaking voice, he'd probably have a lovely bass voice… but I doubt he'd use it. Too undignified. I'm trying to make Draco and Snape BOTH deserve Harry's love in some ways, but have other things that drive him away, so it's hard for him (and us) to choose. I mean, we can't forget that the Phantom (in the original) had a shocking temper and tendencies towards violence, murder and manipulation.

As for Dumbledore, I'm still undecided about him. I mean, I've read some very good Manipulative!Dumbledore fics, and his actions could definitely be construed that way. But I also see a lot of support for Human!Dumbledore, who tries to do his best but simply makes mistakes, as we all do. (Daddy's favourite is very good, I think it's by dzeytoun) After all, he is 150! So I can see him both ways. Still, manipulative Dumbledore works better for this fic, so that's how he'll be. I wonder if he'll see the error of his ways?