CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE

Secrets Revealed

He was embracing someone. Her hair was dark red and soft and smelled good. It was a smell he recognized from long ago, a smell that had long been buried in his subconscious. It was his mother. She was shaking in his arms.

When had this memory taken place? Harry searched for clues. The room looked familiar. Pale blue walls, dark hardwood floors. It was comforting, tranquil. He stared at Snape's hands that gathered around his mother shoulders in disgust. They were weathered—not young. This memory had not taken place during their schooling years at Hogwarts.

He heard a gurgling sound and turned his head. On top of a thick blanket on the floor was a baby with dark hair and green eyes. An infant. He made fists with his hands and kicked in the air, smiling happily. It was him. He had no scar.

His hands coiled in his mother's soft hair as he pulled her face to his own and kissed her tender lips.

Shocked, Harry stumbled backward. He was suddenly thrown back into reality—the darkness of the dungeon, the moldy smell of the walls, and the sickening sneer of Severus Snape.

"I told Dumbledore you would be a hopeless case. No concentration, no dedication to the art of Legilimency. I told him you wouldn't even be able to tell if someone was lying. Cleary," he muttered, "I was mistaken."

Harry could taste something fowl in his mouth and wished he could spit. Why on earth was Snape kissing his mother—on the lips, no less—when his father was clearly still alive and he was only a baby? He could feel the knots in his stomach twisting tightly. He felt he was going to be sick.

"I feel it is my duty to teach you yet another valuable lesson…"

"How generous," Harry snapped.

Snape smiled even broader. "Not everything you see when using Legilimency is pleasant. Every bit of information, every image, every scent, is a burden."

Harry definitely didn't need Snape to tell him that. "Why were you kissing her?"

"And not every image has an explanation," Snape went on. "Indeed, Legilimency creates more questions than answers." He smiled knowingly and raised his wand. "A duel," he said. "Again."

Livid, Harry lifted his wand. Snape opened his mouth, about to speak or perhaps speak an incantation. Harry, in his fury, yelled at the top of his lungs. "Expelliarmus!"

The spell was so powerful that it sent Snape flying backward into the wall. His head smashed against a bookcase and Harry saw his eyes roll into the back of his head as his motionless body hit the floor. He was out cold.

Harry took a moment to catch his breath. First he found out about Eva's mum, and now he was finding things out about his own. Knocking Snape out was somewhat satisfying, but it only dulled the rage inside of him for a moment. He quickly rushed over to the Potionmaster's lifeless form and plucked a few greasy hairs from his head and tucked them inside his robe.

That ought to keep him out of Harry's way for a while.

Harry raced to the Gryffindor common room and caught Ron and Hermione just before they were about to go to bed.

"We need to use the potion now," Harry muttered under his breath.

"Now?" Ron consulted his watch. "It's so late."

"How long do you suggest I hold onto his greasy hair?" Harry questioned. "Also, right now, I know where Snape is, so there's no way there will be two of us wandering the halls of Hogwarts."

"What did you do to him?" Hermione said suspiciously.

"There was a bit of a collision with his head and one of his cabinets. He's out cold."

"What if he wakes up?" she asked.

"The first thing he'll do is take something for the pain," Harry said with a grin. "Then he'll probably march straight to Dumbledore's office asking for my immediate suspension. I doubt he'll be looking around for Malfoy. I'll run up and get the cloak and the map."

Harry didn't mention that the sooner he took the Polyjuice Potion, the sooner he'd be able to get some answers from Malfoy about Eva's mother. Harry tried to swallow back his rage. If he was going to get anything out of Malfoy, he'd have to act like Snape. He'd have to treat Malfoy like his star pupil. He would have to treat him like he didn't want to kill him just as he had killed the innocent Muggle.

He returned to the common room with the two objects in a bag. Hermione and Ron were on the couch, sharing an issue of The Daily Phrophet. Things seemed quite natural between them—conversation was no longer forced or filled with angry tones. Perhaps it was because of what they had witnessed between Harry and Eva and missed being in one another's arms.

Or perhaps it was just too late to keep quarrelling.

"Now for my favorite part," Harry said as he sat between them and took out the current Muggle fiction book they were reading in Muggle Studies. "The waiting."

It was only another thirty minutes before the common room was empty, but it felt like an eternity to Harry. He kept reading the same sentence of Pride and Prejudice over and over again.

He stood up and checked around the room, making sure no one was around. He took the invisibility cloak out of his bag and motioned for Ron and Hermione to join him beneath it. With the Marauder's Map in one hand and his wand in the other, Harry led the way out of the common room.

"Lumos," he whispered as they stumbled through the darkened hallway. Most of the portraits were already asleep, some snoring loudly, some snoozing soundlessly. Harry was getting more and more anxious by the minute.

He suddenly remembered the look of terror on little Nora's face at the beginning of the year when Malfoy came over and accused Harry of being a cradle-robber. She had immediately asked for his protection. Nora obviously knew that Malfoy was evil.

On the other hand, Malfoy did not recognize Nora. His reaction to seeing Eva was one of fear. He was positive that Malfoy had identified Eva from the night of his first kill. Why one sister but not the other? Nora was the first one out the window. Perhaps Malfoy never saw her.

Harry knew it was a miracle that both the sisters were still alive. If Draco hadn't let them go, Lucius would have killed both of them that night.

"We passed it!" Hermione hissed. "Harry, Moaning Myrtle's bathroom is that way…"

"Oh, right, sorry," Harry said. He back-tracked down the hallway and opened the door a crack so that Ron and Hermione could fit inside.

Once the door was shut, they removed the cloak and lit some candles. Harry could smell the nasty Polyjuice Potion as he handed Hermione the tuft of Snape's greasy hair he'd plucked.

"I can't believe you're going through with this," Ron said with a groan, looking as though he was going to be sick. "Whatever information you're trying to get out of Malfoy, it must be pretty damned important to go to such incredible lengths."

"You have no idea," Harry said with a sad smile.

The two of them watched as Hermione spooned up a goblet-full of the potion. She carefully put Snape's hairs in the cup and then mixed it all together with the spoon. "Better that you're not able to see it when you drink it, I think," she explained. "You'll only have an hour once you drink this. You'll have to track Malfoy down and get your answers."

Harry nodded.

"And remember to act like a stupid git so that Malfoy believe you're truly Snape," Ron added. "When Malfoy kisses up to you, pretend you don't notice. And when he does something wrong, make sure you blame the nearest Gryffindor. And after he's done blowing smoke up your ass, you'll want to…"

"I get the picture, Ron." Harry sighed. "What am I going to wear?"

"Is Cinderella getting ready for the ball?" asked an eerie, all-too familiar voice.

Hermione sighed. "Myrtle, I thought we had a deal. You weren't to bother us when we're in here as long as one of us comes to clean the place up once a week."

"Oh dear, I know, but I just couldn't resist when Harry comes 'round," she said with a delicious squeal and floated out of one of the nearby stalls. "Who is it you're turning into this time?"

Harry sighed. There was no use hiding it from her. Maybe if they were cooperative with her, she would be cooperative with them. "Professor Snape."

"How gloriously disgusting. Did you know that he has seven robes that are exactly the same, one for every day? He only washes them every two weeks…"

"Thanks, Myrtle, but I don't think we need to know the grimy details of Snape's life," Ron interrupted.

"I just thought I'd mention that tonight he decided to soak one of his robes in the staff bathroom on the floor below us."

"Excellent," Hermione said. "All we'd have to do is sneak down there and get it."

"But we're running out of time," Harry said. "It might take too long. And what if someone else is using it? Ron's just as tall as Snape—couldn't we use his robe and just rip the Gryffindor patch off?"

"And ruin a perfectly good hand-me-down?" Ron asked. "Well, actually…"

"I think Ron's robe is too well-kept," Hermione replied. "We've got to make sure Malfoy doesn't get suspicious. Myrtle, can't you tell us whether someone's using it?"

"Certainly," the ghost replied. "But I'm afraid it's going to cost you."

Here it comes, Harry thought. "What do you want in return?"

"I want to go to the next feast in the Great Hall," Myrtle said, "and I want to be escorted by Harry."

Ron started giggling like a little school girl and Hermione's mouth dropped open. "You mean like a… a…" He could barely get the word out of his mouth. "A date?"

Myrtle moaned loudly and shot up towards the ceiling. "If you're all just going to laugh at me then I can rat you out right now."

"No, Myrtle, I'll do it." Harry would do anything, just as long as it got him closer to the truth. "But… why?"

"None of the other ghosts take me seriously," she replied. "I never show my face in the great hall because all they do is laugh at me. They say I'm not mature enough to be invited to their death day parties or on their outings. How can I get any more mature? I can't get any older; I'm dead!"

"And how is Harry escorting you to a feast in the Great Hall going to change things?" Hermione asked.

"Can you imagine the looks on their faces when they see that I have a real, live, breathing friend? And that it's Harry Potter? The gossip itself should be enough to get me invited to their next party."

"No offense, Myrtle, but I thought you liked to be alone and… moan," Harry said.

"I do," she replied indignantly. "But sometimes, it's nice to have company."

"Aww…" Ron cooed. "I think she's grown right attached to us. Particularly you, Harry."

Harry rolled his eyes and muttered, "Lucky me." He focused his attention on Myrtle. "Do you know the password?"

The ghost nodded. "Gullible, gloating Gryffindors." It must have been Snape's private bathroom. "And it is currently empty. If you hurry, I'm sure you'll make it in and out before Professor Snape comes to retrieve his laundry."

"He won't be doing that for a while. Ron, will you run and get it?" Harry questioned. He had been eyeing the bubbly concoction with Snape's hair in it. It was going to take some serious mental strength to swallow it.

Ron nodded and, with the invisibility cloak and map in hand, quickly hurried downstairs. Myrtle flew through the pipes to ensure that the coast was clear for Ron. He returned minutes later, out of breath.

"I feel like I know Snape much too intimately. Did you know he uses Little Lucy's Lemony Laundry Soap?" Ron asked as he put the slopping wet robe in the sink.

Ignoring his comment, Hermione laid the robe out on the floor. "I'll use a heat charm to dry it." She muttered an incantation that blew warm heat on the garment, then turned it over to dry the back. After a few minutes, she picked it up from the floor and handed it to Harry. "It's still a little damp, but I'm afraid I'd start it on fire if I dried it any more."

Harry nodded. The robe was warm in his hands. His stomach was churning. He really dreaded the idea of walking around, quite literally, in Snape's shoes for the next hour, but what else could he do? Snape was surely the only one who Malfoy would confide in. He seemed to trust Snape more than his own father lately, and it was the only way to get to the bottom of what happened that Christmas Eve two years ago.

Harry walked over to the counter where the goblet filled with Polyjuice Potion. With a meaningful glance at Hermione and Ron, he plugged his nose and lifted the goblet to his lips, then drank as much of the potion as he could be fore he felt his gag reflexes kicking in.

Harry ran into the bathroom, about to be sick, with thoughts of, I'm drinking Snape's hair! I'm drinking Snape's hair! running through his mind at full speed. He swallowed a few times and broke out into a profuse sweat. He could feel the room around him changing and he closed his eyes, not wanting to watch the horror as he changed into the professor who had made many nights of his life a living hell.

When he opened his eyes, he pretended not to notice that his skin was much paler, or that his nose was so long that he could nearly see the tip of it. He managed to get off his Hogwarts robes, then realized he forgot Snape's robe outside the bathroom stall.

"Hey, 'Mione, can you hand me Snape's robe?" He realized that his voice was different. It wasn't his; it was Snape's.

"That is absolutely spooky," Ron said with a shiver. "I don't think you should call her 'Mione when you're like that."

Hermione threw the robe over the stall door. Harry quickly put the robe on and opened the door. Hermione and Ron gasped at the sight of him. Moaning Myrtle giggled.

"I say, you three are going to get into so much trouble for this." She flew up in the air and twirled around and then dove into the toilet in Harry's stall, splashing him.

"I'm glad someone finds this funny," Harry said grumpily.

After some last minute reminders from Hermione and Ron, Harry went down to the first floor where he remembered the entrance to the Slytherin common room was. He was hoping that Malfoy would already be there and Harry wouldn't have to wander the dormitories looking for him. The truth was that he could get away with it because he was, after all, their Head of House, and had the task of checking up on them anyway.

It was so eerie to walk around at Snape's height with his long, greasy hair covering his eyes with every step he took. Harry tried not to take note of any of the physical features of his body and just keep it all in his mind. How would Snape walk? How would he talk? What would his expression be?

Harry found the Slytherin common room and skulked in using what he thought was Snape-like fashion. The heavy polished oak door slammed shut behind him. Malfoy, thankfully, in the common room alone, and shot up from his seat in one of the leather chairs that adorned the wicked room.

"Professor, I've been looking for you everywhere! I even went to your classroom, but you were gone." Malfoy approached him quickly, his white-blonde hair shining in the light of the fireplace.

Actually, Snape was crumpled and knocked out up behind his desk. Thankfully, Draco just hadn't looked hard enough.

"What is it?" Harry snarled in a way that he'd often heard Snape speak. If Malfoy was searching for Snape past midnight, there had to be a good reason.

"It's about my father's secret," Malfoy explained. "The loose end of evidence that he never got to tie up."

There was that word again. Evidence. "What about it?" Harry asked. He was trying to be as surly as indifferent as possible.

"Her," Draco corrected. "I… I saw her. With Potter," he added. "I don't know why, but the evidence is close. She's close."

Harry studied Draco. He could feel the trust that the sixth-year student felt in Snape. Malfoy was practically displaying his mind like an open book for Harry to read. Images bombarded his head when he looked into Draco's beady eyes. However, he was searching for one particular memory from one particular night.

One flash of memory: the Yule Ball. Another: on the bed with Pansy. Harry tried to fast-forward through the events that he was already familiar with from that night until he was in Eva's Muggle kitchen, with his father spitting and shouting at him in the background. Malfoy raised his wand, shouted the incantation, and watched with a smile on his face as the woman crumpled to the ground and died.

"The evidence! We must get rid of the evidence!"

His father's shouts only infuriated Malfoy even more. The two girls were in the bathroom, hiding without success. But Lucius was blind to their whereabouts, too distracted by his own problems.

"Find them!"

Lucius disappeared upstairs as Draco quietly approached the bathroom near the kitchen. He could hear whimpering, then silence. Suddenly, there was a loud metallic clang and he pushed the door open. There was the older girl, with her damned look on her face.

"Run."

Draco said it simply enough. It only took a moment for it to register with the girl. He could see her bewilderment. Where had his mercy come from?

Only it wasn't mercy at all. He didn't want his father's evidence to disappear. No, Draco had planned to use it against him even then.

After the two girls disappeared out the window, his father appeared at the bathroom door.

"You let her escape!"

His father was furious. He needed that evidence to be gone now, before the Dark Lord reappeared again.

"She's your half-breed daughter. Why don't you go and chase after her?"

Harry snapped back to reality. He was in the Slytherin common room, and Draco was studying him with one eyebrow raised. He looked utterly confused, which made Harry nervous. Had he blown his cover while using Legilimency on Malfoy?

Suddenly, Draco sniffed the air with his nose. "Do you smell lemons?"