Hours later Rodolphus knocked on the door of the Room of Requirement. "Sev? Are you in there?"

"No," came the answer.

"Now that was just silly," Rodolphus said with a sigh. "Even I would know not to answer. Come out." He twisted the knob, but Severus had turned the five deadbolts. "You can't hide in that broom closet forever."

"Yes I can. Go away!"

"Everyone's looking for you, Sev," Rodolphus pressed, kneeling and trying to look through the keyhole. "Astaroth's furious—even Dumbledore's out searching for you!"

"Really? Dumbledore?" Severus caught himself. "It's only to punish me! That's why I can't come out."

"Jenkins from Ravenclaw said you went on a rampage and cursed four seventh years, including two prefects."

Rodolphus waited for confirmation, but none seemed forthcoming. "Well?"

"They were—slandering me."

"So you did do it?"

Severus sighed. "Yes."

Rodolphus let out a low whistle. "Four of them! Old Septimus'll be impressed."

"I suspect his satisfaction with my cursing skills will be somewhat tempered by rage when Dumbledore finds and expels me."

"Come on, Sev, give me a little credit! When Astaroth and Dumbledore asked me where you were hiding, I lied."

"I know," said Dumbledore, easing round the corner. "And I wish you wouldn't."

"Professor Dumbledore!" Rodolphus jumped up in a hurry. Severus pressed his ear to the door. "I- I'm sorry, I didn't think I-"

"-would get caught, obviously," Dumbledore finished, but he didn't sound angry. In fact he sounded almost amused. "May I speak with Severus privately?"

"Er..." Rodolphus was hesitating between compliance and loyalty.

"For Merlin's sake, Rodolphus, laisse-nous tranquille!" Severus said irritably from behind the door. ('Leave us alone.') "I'll see you later."

"If you say so," Rodolphus said dubiously.

"Off you go," Dumbledore said pleasantly, and Rodolphus' footsteps receded down the corridor. Dumbledore approached the polished door. "I had no idea you were fluent in French, Severus."

"German, Russian, Greek, and Latin too, but I'm sure there's loads of things you don't know about me, sir. For instance, did you know I'm a 'bad egg?' 'A lawless cretin,' according to Molly's Aunt Bernice? It runs in my blood, apparently." Severus couldn't keep the bitterness out of his voice as he added, "Don't feel bad if you weren't aware of that. Neither was I."

"Might this perchance be the Molly Prewett who recently had a large snake flung at her?" Dumbledore enquired.

"It wasn't poisonous," Severus said testily. "I don't know what she was so afraid of."

"This would be much easier if we could speak face to face. Are you planning to hide in there for the rest of the year?"

"Are you planning to expel me?" Severus responded, a bit insolently, but Dumbledore took no offence.

"Expel you? Why?"

"Because I cursed those four seventh years!"

"Ah yes. I must confess my overpowering curiosity about your motivation for doing so. Your victims were rather… unforthcoming when I found them in the hospital wing."

"The hospital wing?"

"Oh, you needn't fear. None of them was seriously hurt. They were simply shocked that a first year could undertake the seemingly suicidal task of attacking four seventh years—and even more shocked that you survived without a scratch."

Severus indulged in a derisive snort. "Not one of them even managed to draw their wand. It was really quite pathetic."

"If they're pathetic, why are you hiding in there?" Dumbledore countered. "I do wish you would come out so we could chat."

"Yes, a nice friendly chat followed by a pleasant kick out the front doors? You just want me to come out so you can expel me!"

"I assure you, Severus, that if I truly wanted you out of that cozy little broom cupboard, I would have blasted open the door a long time ago," said Dumbledore. "I am merely seeking the facts of the situation. When she recovered her voice, Miss Vance told me you suddenly jumped on them while they were innocently studying—a suspicious story—rarely have I known young Mr. Weasley to do anything innocently."

"So who are you going to expel?"

"Why are you fixed on expulsion? Do you harbour some secret wish to go home?"

Home evoked gloomy memories of Snape Hall, lonely in the dense, murky forest of evergreens; ivy-shrouded Snape Hall with its obsessively perfect gardens and topiaries and the empty cobwebbed broom shed in the backyard, symbol of his own failures and foolishness; the huge, sinister monster where dwelt an austere, disdainful father whose son was the bane of his existence, and a doting, spiritless young mother. The thought of returning to that house, the house of unspoken despair and melancholy, was unbearable to Severus. "No," he said firmly.

"Then what, may I ask, is keeping you in there?"

"I'm not sorry I did it, Professor, if an apology is what you're looking for. I don't think I did anything very wrong. I've told you what they were saying about me—would you have stood for it?"

"It is unlikely that you should remember this, but a few years ago my own brother Aberforth was accused of performing—shall we say—unorthodox charms on goats. But did he curse his adversaries and then shut himself up and bolt the door? He did not!"

Severus thought of the hoary, grumpy barman in the Hog's Head and now realized where he had seen him—in a grainy photo in the Daily Prophet. "No, he simply refused to attend his own trial and cloistered himself in his little inn. Was he your 'reliable source' in Hogsmeade?"

Dumbledore chuckled. "That's a connection that few students have made, especially ones who should never have seen him in his milieu in the first place. Should I take that as a confession?" Severus was silent, realizing his tactical error.

The Headmaster went on gently, "My point is that if we all paid close attention to what people are saying about us, we would never be comfortable with ourselves. I have faults like everyone else, but when people write to me and point them out, I don't spend hours poring over their criticisms. Why couldn't you simply ignore them?"

"Could you ignore someone saying you were 'pure evil?' What would you have done in my place, Headmaster? There was nothing else I could do—nothing," he amended, "that readily occurred to me as I stood there listening to them rip me apart. They don't even know me!"

"I understand your hostile feelings, but I must confess that I am somewhat disappointed. Despite your antics and scuffles, you gave me the impression of being a very intelligent, sensible young man."

"Surprise," Severus said acidly. "Oh, and 'dry as rot,' that was another thing they said. Do you think they stopped to consider how intelligent or sensible I might be?"

"In my opinion, you have many admirable qualities, Severus. If it makes you feel better, there is something I might tell you…"

"Yes?"

"This evening at dinner, we sat down to three courses, each consisting of one item: stoat and glossop pie." Severus emitted a half-groan of horror. "Yes… As you were hiding here, you missed the meal altogether, but I assure you it was quite inedible. The house-elves have only just heard about someone tampering with your favourite dish, you see, and they hate it when we mere wizards try to interfere with their cooking—especially, it seems, with food meant for you. Apparently they idolize you. This was their revenge. Minor, perhaps, never to be repeated, and certainly nothing to rewrite History of Hogwarts for, but still very interesting."

Severus smiled. "I've never heard of house-elves rebelling like that."

"Neither have I, as it happens. You may have been the cause of the nearest thing to a house-elf mutiny that the wizarding world has ever had."

Severus groaned.

"I can hardly bear to think of everyone in the school going hungry on my account." It would just make everyone hate him even more.

"Professor, what's going to happen to me?" he asked in a small voice.

"Well, Arthur Weasley and his companions denied having provoked you, but I am certain that, when confronted with your side of the story, they are hardly likely to maintain their version. I do appreciate your honesty with me, and I suppose your actions were partly justified…" Severus waited with bated breath. "One week's detention and twenty points from Slytherin," Dumbledore decreed.

"Yes, Professor," Severus said. It was a very generous sentence for the number of rules he had broken. And though he didn't want to push his luck, but because he could not stop himself, he asked, "What about Weasley and the others?"

"I think my demanding apologies from the five of you would only embarrass you all further. But they will not be penalized by me, if that's what you're asking. I think," and Severus could hear the note of amusement in his voice, "that they have been sufficiently humbled by now, don't you? Defeated by a single first year student!" There was a strong tone of amusement in the Headmaster's voice. "But don't take that as an encouragement to fight."

"No, Professor."

"Will you come out now, or shall I have a bed installed in there?" Dumbledore asked.

Severus slowly unbolted the door and pushed it open. Dumbledore smiled down at him.

"That's the spirit! But there is one last thing, if you don't mind… I was wondering whether all of your classmates are as adept at the Snake-Summoning Charm as you are?"

Severus felt his face grow hot. That one was from a book in his father's private library and he was uncertain of its lawfulness. "I found it in a book."

The Headmaster arched an eyebrow. "In the Defence Against the Dark Arts section?"

The emphasis on 'Defence' was not lost on Severus. "Of course." He hated to lie to the Headmaster, but he wanted even less to implicate his father in any more wrongdoing.

Dumbledore gave him a searching look, and Severus gazed back, determined not to quail before the blue eyes; then the Headmaster nodded gently. "You may go," he said softly.

Severus hurried away, with the horribly disquieting feeling that Dumbledore knew more about his lie than he did.

Severus' attack on Weasley and his friends only boosted his reputation for lunacy and malevolence, but he tried to take Dumbledore's advice and ignore the whispers and hisses that haunted him as he walked down the halls. Several times he had to firmly restrain himself from throwing Furnunculus Curses at some of his more vocal slanderers; but he was quite pleased to be able to get through a week without hexing one person.

And Christmas was fast approaching. The first snowfall and the following blizzards continually reminded the students of the approaching holidays and their excitement was palpable. The teachers buckled down even more firmly against leniency as the yuletide season loomed, and appeared determined to heap as much homework as possible on the students before the Christmas spirit claimed their attention irretrievably.

Bellatrix was doing less work than ever—and her negligence became infectious. On most afternoons the first year Slytherins could be found having snowball fights or building snowmen and trying to bewitch them like the suits of armour. Only Severus and Rodolphus stayed out of the fray. They holed up in the library and studied fervently because Severus knew his presence made the others uncomfortable, and because Rodolphus needed the extra tutoring.

With his constant revising Severus managed to pull up his marks, which pleased Professor Astaroth. But in Rodolphus' case not even unremitting studying helped. Severus spent hours and hours on end explaining the more difficult concepts to him, but nothing seemed to stick. He finally had to confess—only in his head, never aloud—that Rodolphus simply wasn't teachable. Rodolphus tried and tried, but he could not grasp much beyond the very fundamentals of magic. He mixed up incantations and could not keep track of which wand movements corresponded to which spells. He was awful at Potions because he did not understand the fine distinctions: why this potion must be stirred counterclockwise, how this potion is affected by the lunar parallax, where this potion must be stored in order to preserve its potency. The only thing he was any good at was Astronomy, though Severus objected, "We only have that once a week, in the middle of the night!" Still, he couldn't help copying off Rodolphus' star charts on Astronomy nights, when his eyes got tired of squinting through the telescope.

Rodolphus didn't mind, of course. He was always accomodating to Severus.

"That's what best friends are for," he'd say brightly.

Severus hated that. He didn't need a best friend, least of all Rodolphus. And all these hours he was spending trying to teach Rodolphus, he could have been using for his own study time. He was still third in their year, after Lily Evans and James Potter, and Remus Lupin was beginning to edge him out of the top three. Academia was his life—he couldn't let three Gryffindors beat him at his own game!

But Rodolphus needed the help. And apart from his one lapse when Severus had been hospitalized, he was being an awfully good sport about keeping quiet about their fathers' secret lives. So Severus indulged him. He was feeling increasingly guilty about the whole affair with the Death Eaters. And he still hadn't heard from Septimus.

"Only three weeks till Christmas," Maud said brightly as they sat down to breakfast one Saturday morning, while glinting white snowflakes drifted down over the Great Hall from the enchanted ceiling.

Severus and Rodolphus shot her poisonous looks. She, Bellatrix and Petula had succeeded in dragging the boys out of the dungeons to have breakfast with everyone else in the Great Hall.

"Have a bit of toast, Severus," Petula pleaded, "you haven't eaten in days."

"I have too," Severus said sullenly. "Just because you haven't seen me eat doesn't mean I haven't been doing it. Anyways, mad people don't eat."

"Mad people do eat, or else there wouldn't be any of them left to bother us," Rodolphus said. At a fierce look from Petula he amended hastily, "But naturally that wouldn't apply to you, being of sound mind and body, and as sane as I am."

"Seeing as you're madder than a mad hatter who's just seen an invisible two-headed elephant clamber out of his teacup and start trimming the hedges," Severus replied, "that's hardly any comfort at all."

Rodolphus stared blankly. "Er..."

"Good morning," murmured a high effeminate voice from behind Severus, making him jump. They all turned to look at Professor Astaroth, who was wearing two pairs of spectacles and carrying a quill and a blank piece of parchment.

"I am required to take down the names of any students who plan to remain at Hogwarts over the Christmas holidays," Astaroth said.

"That parchment's blank," said Maud.

"Yes, every Slytherin polled so far has opted to go home. I assume you five are of the same mind, so I will move on-"

"Wait, Professor," Severus said suddenly. "I- I'm going to stay."

He snatched the quill and parchment and quickly, before he could change his mind, he scrawled his name at the top.

"Severus, what are you doing?" Bellatrix asked. "I was going to come stay over a few days at your house."

"I don't feel like going home," Severus replied shortly.

"Can't see your father?" Rodolphus whispered in French. Severus nodded. Rodolphus squinted thoughtfully, then made a split-second decision. "I'm staying too," he declared, seizing the quill and signing his name under Severus'.

"Rodolphus!" Bellatrix exclaimed in consternation. Astaroth hurried away, annoyed, before anyone else could sign up.

"Why'd you do that?" Severus hissed to Rodolphus in French.

"I feel compelled to keep you company, Severus. If it weren't for you going along with what I wanted, you wouldn't even be scared of going home."

"I'm not scared," Severus lied. "And did it ever occur to you that perhaps I might want to be alone?"

"Yes." Rodolphus was mystified.

Severus repeated, "Alone! All by myself!"

"Yes, all by ourselves!" Rodolphus said brightly. "We'll have a marvellous time!"

"I don't understand your whispering, but I know you're both completely batty," sighed Bellatrix.

"Not me," Rodolphus said in English, "just Severus."

"Severus is not mad," Petula said firmly.

"Yes I am, I'm mad and cold-blooded. Everyone's saying it."

"No one's saying that!" Petula cried.

At that moment a pair of Hufflepuffs happened to pass by, whispering not very quietly. "There's that Snivellus Snape," said one.

"Yeah, the bastard," said the other. "Mad as a badger and cold-blooded to boot." They threw defiant glares over their shoulders at Severus as they moved away. "I told you so," he said, feeling no triumph.

Petula sighed. "All right. Maybe some people are saying that."

"Everyone," Severus insisted. "I bet that even you and the rest of the Slytherins do."

"We do not!" Petula said vehemently.

"Morning, Rosier," said Rodolphus as Evan Rosier slid into a seat.

"Morning, Rosier," Severus echoed.

"Morning, Rodolphus, Sniv-" Rosier started to mumble.

He froze mid-word. Severus gave him a long glacial scowl before saying to Petula, "I told you so."

Then he got up and walked out of the Great Hall. Behind him he heard Rosier crying out in pain. "Ouch! Petula, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to—ow, Rodolphus, it was an accident!"

Severus climbed the marble staircase and wandered aimlesssly through the empty corridors. As he reached the third floor he heard someone's caterwauling accompanied by alarming crashes, and remembered that Peeves the poltergeist loved bouncing around the trophy room.

He tried to ease unobtrusively past the door but Peeves spotted him and shrieked, "Why, it's the nasty firstie, what likes to laugh at other people's miseries! Brute, brute!" He rocketed straight at Severus' face and howled, "Et tu, Brute?"

"Leave me alone, Peeves," Severus snapped, fingering his wand in his pocket.

"Leave him alone, Peeves," echoed a hoarse low voice belonging to no one. Severus and Peeves recognized it instantly.

"Sorry, your Bloodiness," Peeves squealed greasily, "didn't know you was here..."

The gaunt figure of the Slytherin ghost rose slowly through the floor. "This is a Slytherin, Peeves. In the future you will refrain from pestering students of my house. You will treat Snape with utmost respect."

"Yes, yes of course, your Bloodiness, whatever you wish!" The poltergeist raced off through the ceiling with a noise like a popping cork.

The Bloody Baron acknowledged Severus' thanks with a wave of his diaphanous hand and sank back through the floor.

Severus suddenly felt like he was suffocating—he had to get outside. He ran down three flights of stairs and straight out the front doors.

It was freezing cold outside, but it had stopped snowing. He leaped over the icy steps and trudged off into the snow. He tried to imagine he was letting his feet take him wherever they wanted to go, but after a few minutes he had to concede that they wanted to go to the same place as his head did: the Dark Forest.

Last night had been a full moon.

He halted fifty feet from the forest. Calm down, he told himself. It won't take long. You're just popping in and out. It won't take a moment.

He had resolved to find the centaur who had saved him and Lily and ask him outright if the beast had been a werewolf. If the answer was yes, he was going to ask who it was. He had to know. He couldn't go on wondering.

He took a step forward—and suddenly moved back again. A huge dark shape was approaching under the dark snow-laden boughs of the trees.

Severus squinted, calculating rapidly. Too big for a wolf, and certainly too big for a Jarvey. It walked on two legs—not a centaur. A cold hand closed on his heart: a troll?

But his fears were allayed when the dark figure called, "Mornin'! Beau'iful day!"

It was Rubeus Hagrid. "Good morning, Hagrid," Severus said, relieved.