A/N: Thank you as always for the feedback! Was lovely hearing from so many of you, and just to make things clear, this fic will be wrapping up soon, but I do plan to continue on with year two.
This entry is relatively Snape-light, but we'll more than catch up with him (and his ongoing complications with Lucius and co.) next chapter.
Chapter Twenty: To Be Complicit
The temperature continued to drop as January dragged onward. The dungeon corridors, which always ran cold, plunged to depths so low the Slytherins spent as little time there as they could, instead sticking to their common room and the roaring fire within. Once or twice a week one might find a first year Gryffindor alongside them; another evening a Slytherin might find themselves in the Gryffindor common room in front of their fire.
For the most part, the older students went along with this. The Gryffindors largely started to soften once they came to acknowledge Harry probably wasn't the next Dark Lord in training, but instead just a first year not unlike the ones in their own house. It probably helped, he imagined, that both his parents had been Gryffindors themselves.
"The damn lions are taking over the place," Marcus Flint muttered to Terence Higgs one night, lowering himself beside him on the sofa.
Harry paused behind them on his way to join Neville and Ron's game of Scrabble.
"So?" Terence said quietly. "It's not the worst thing. And they're not here every night. They're not even here most nights."
"Not that you'd have a problem if they were," Marcus shot back, his voice not quite as low, but low enough to be inaudible to anyone further than Harry.
"We're not having this conversation again," Terence said, his voice level.
"What are you going to do when the Dark Lord returns?" Marcus pushed on. "He will return. What do you think he'll do when he comes back and finds Slytherin's good little Head Prefect kissing Dumbledore's arse?"
"That's enough," Terence said, rising to his feet. His head turned and he caught sight of Harry watching. He paused, fixing Harry with a hard look, the latter of whom scurried back to Ron and Neville before Marcus could see him standing there.
Gryffindor played Hufflepuff that weekend, and after a thrilling chase Lee Jordan managed to catch the Snitch seconds before the Hufflepuff Seeker did. The Gryffindors swarmed the field, lifting Jordan onto their shoulders and cheering, as Harry watched and silently wished he'd make the Slytherin team eventually.
"He's good," he said after a moment, before turning to Terence. "But not nearly as good as you."
Terence smirked. "Of course not. I've been Seeker for four years. I have more experience than him."
"He's better at sharp turns, though," Ellen Greybourne said. She and Terence sat together for the match, though they still hadn't gone public with the fact that they were sneaking off at night to snog one another. Harry hadn't breathed a word that he knew anything about it, instead holding onto the knowledge for later use.
"Oi, have some loyalty, would you?" Terence said, then added quickly, "To Slytherin, I mean."
Ellen rolled her eyes, smiling. "Spare me your fragile ego. Everyone knows you're the best Seeker at Hogwarts."
The Gryffindors continued to celebrate. Ron danced on the field alongside his brothers in a sort of celebratory jig as Lee Jordan waved the Snitch over his head. Ron caught Harry's eyes and grinned broadly, waving. Harry grinned and waved back.
"Jordan isn't bad," Terence admitted. "Our match with them was close. But I have to admit, I miss his commentating now that he's on the team."
"He was so biased!" Ellen protested. To Harry, she said, "You've no idea. He'd openly root for Gryffindor and bash Slytherin. Half the match was McGonagall shouting at him to tone it down."
"Yeah, but you have to admit, he could be a laugh, couldn't he?" Terence said. "Plus, it was great motivation when I was up in the air listening to him."
Harry watched the Giant Squid emerge from the lake, glinting in the sunlight before retreating back into the water with enough force to send an enormous wave in its wake.
"This is brilliant," he said, turning back to the jam jar Hermione had conjured bright blue flames within. They were under a towering beech tree near one of the lake's banks, and the heat from the flames made the February air tolerable to endure.
"I taught it to myself," Hermione said proudly. "One of the older students let me borrow their schoolbooks."
Harry had come to discover he rather agreed with Ron's assessment of Hermione. She could be a bit annoying at times and far too obsessed with schoolwork, but she wasn't half bad.
"Wow," Greg said, enthralled as he watched the flames crackle within the jar. "I wish I had one of these."
"Would you like me to show you how?" Hermione asked eagerly, brightening at the prospect of sharing what she'd learned.
"Er, that's all right," Greg said quickly.
"I don't mind! It's really simple, look-"
"That's all right," Greg said again, even more quickly. "Really. Another time."
Hermione slumped slightly, disappointed, but she allowed the conversation to shift to another subject. Harry suspected he knew why Greg didn't want to learn the new spell. Both he and Vincent struggled with the first year coursework enough as it was; he wasn't about to embarrass himself with advanced magic beyond their level.
"Do you think it would be all right if I came by your common room tonight?" Hermione asked, breaking Harry away from his thoughts. "I haven't had a chance to play Scrabble with Daphne yet."
"Yeah, of course," Harry said. "If no one's by the entrance, just find the portrait of Gwydion around the corner. He'll pop in and let us know you're outside."
Hermione nodded happily. The Slytherins and Gryffindors still hadn't told one another the ever-changing passwords to their common rooms, though it wasn't difficult to pick up on them the more time one spent there.
"It's been fun playing Muggle board games again," Hermione said. "We don't have any in the Gryffindor common room, and even back home I didn't have any siblings to play against."
Harry hadn't particularly noticed before she said that that Gryffindor didn't have any Muggle games. The students there instead played Gobstones, wizarding chess, Exploding Snap, and a variety of other magical games. Later that night, once Hermione had gone back to her tower, Harry approached Professor Snape, who sat in an armchair near the fire. Like Greg earlier that day, he gazed into the flames, deep in thought, his newspaper from that morning forgotten in his lap. Harry paused, sensing it might not be the best time, then started to turn back the way he'd come.
"Go on, Mr. Potter."
Harry froze, then turned back. "Erm. I was just wondering, sir, why we have Muggle games in the common room."
Snape studied him for a moment, then said, "Why wouldn't we?"
Harry started to shrug, which earned him a glare from Snape. He quickly dropped his shoulders. "I don't know, sir."
"You grew up in a Muggle household," Snape said. "And not every Slytherin is a Pure-blood. Hogwarts can be quite an adjustment to someone unaccustomed to the magical world."
"I didn't really play board games back home, sir," Harry admitted, but he understood Snape's point. He'd been remarkably unhappy living with the Dursleys and therefore proceeded to hurl himself into the magical world headfirst, but if he'd come from a better home, he supposed he'd be quite homesick, especially when Hogwarts was so different from the world he'd left behind. He added, "But I understand what you're saying."
Snape's expression didn't change. "Besides, I can't imagine it would hurt to expose our more sheltered students to a world outside their own, would it?"
Harry shook his head. Draco had never even heard of Monopoly or Scrabble before arriving at Hogwarts. "No, sir."
Snape turned back to the fire; the conversation was finished. Harry pocketed this new information and decided to see if Vincent wanted to play Battleship.
"Inspection!" Lucian Bole mouthed to Harry from the common room door.
Harry froze in his tracks. Snape's unannounced inspections had the status of legend in Slytherin. Thus far Harry had only experienced one, just before Halloween, right after Lucian and Reggie were discovered selling miniature bottles of liquor smuggled from home to the third year and up.
There were still far too many sweets stashed in his room, though they'd managed to make their way through most of them. Harry didn't think they'd be punished over something so trivial, though he did frown at the thought of their stash being confiscated to be rationed out in a more acceptable manner. The more he thought about it, the less he worried; there wasn't anything really terrible hidden in his dorm. Nothing except-
Harry's insides turned to ice. The invisibility cloak. It was at the bottom of his trunk.
There was no use hoping Snape wouldn't check there. Lucian and Reggie had kept their alcohol hidden in their trunks.
Harry closed his eyes and wondered what Snape would do. He couldn't imagine Snape would be happy he'd concealed that he had something that would allow him to creep around the castle undetected, not when he had a history of sneaking out at night to begin with. Especially not when someone had attacked him earlier that year.
Harry thought back to when he and the rest of the Slytherin first year had been hauled to Snape's office just before the Christmas holidays. Snape had said if they kept a secret from him again-
He wouldn't get the cane for this. Would he?
No, Harry thought, he wouldn't.
But what if he did?
Harry could hear Snape's voice in the common room, through the stretch in the wall Lucian had left open. He was ordering everyone present to line up and not move an inch until he was finished. Harry backed away, flattening himself against the wall of the corridor, then darting out of sight.
A thought slipped into his mind, one that was almost suicidal. Harry swallowed, then ran back the way he'd come.
The Slytherin dorms were below the common room, deep in the depths of the dungeons. Connected to them were a small web of corridors leading to the lavatories and various unused chambers left empty for centuries. It was an excellent place to play tag or hide-and-seek. Once, while hurrying down a narrow corridor, Harry had discovered an even narrower staircase hidden behind a tapestry. It led to a nearly identical tapestry on the main level of the dungeons, just outside Professor Snape's quarters.
He'd been warned by the older students upon mentioning it that Snape knew perfectly well of its existence, and that it was fine to use it during the day, but useless to try to sneak around the castle at night; somehow Snape's door always flew open the moment one reached the top of the steps.
Snape wasn't in his quarters now, though. Harry took a deep breath and hurried toward the tapestry, coming to a sudden halt as he spotted the portrait of Gwydion. Its inhabitant was known amongst the students for being a bit of a trickster, but his loyalty remained steadfast to Professor Snape. Gwydion gazed down the corridor, keeping watch for any wayward students who might try to sneak to their dorms from behind.
Harry ducked into an alcove before he could be spotted, and would have shouted in surprise upon walking into someone had a hand not immediately clamped over his mouth.
Visions of the cloaked figure from the stairs upon him, Harry wrestled against the tight grip. He nearly sank his teeth into its palm when Terence Higgs' voice hissed from above, "Settle down! It's me!"
Harry stopped struggling, and jerked away the second Terence released him. He glared at the sixth year. "I nearly bit you!"
"Glad you didn't," Terence said. "What are you doing here?"
"What are you doing here?"
The two boys stared at one another, then Terence slumped slightly. "It's impossible. There's no way we can get past that bloody portrait."
Harry slumped as he thought about the fate that awaited him once Snape discovered his invisibility cloak. "What've you got hidden?"
"Nothing," Terence mumbled, cheeks turning red. He sighed. "I was going to use a Disillusionment Charm on myself and slip by, but it's useless. It doesn't turn you completely invisible. If someone wasn't paying attention, you might be able to slip by, but not with Gwydion paying close attention."
"What's a Disillusionment Charm?" Harry asked, keeping his voice low.
Terence tapped his wand against himself, and Harry gasped as the sixth year turned into something resembling a human chameleon. He was right, he didn't turn completely invisible, but the effect was impressive nonetheless. It was a bit dampened, however, by the fact that he remained fully visible from the knees down.
"I'm too big," Terence said, his voice thick with frustration. "We're learning it in Charms for our N.E.W.T.s, but I'm bigger than anything we've tried it on. Besides, it's harder to cast it on yourself than someone else."
He fell silent, staring at Harry, as the idea hit both of them.
"It'll never work," Terence said. "But..."
"If you distract the portrait," Harry said quietly, "I'll sneak past him. You have to tell me what you have hidden or I won't be able to find it."
The Head Prefect stammered slightly as he admitted, "A bottle of scotch George Lambourne and I nicked from his parents over the holidays. It's in my trunk. And..."
"Go on," Harry said impatiently. "We don't have time."
"Some magazines," Terence said quickly, his voice furtive. "Under my mattress. Bed closest to your left."
Harry wondered why Terence was worried about Snape finding his magazines. Harry's own copy of the most recent Quidditch Times was open on his bed at that very moment, and he wasn't at all concerned.
"If we get out of this alive, I owe you, Potter," Terence said, rapping Harry on the head with his wand. A sensation not unlike an egg cracking on his forehead spread down his body, and Harry looked down to see he too was partially invisible.
"It won't last long," Terence whispered. "A few minutes at most. I'm still learning. You'll have to move quickly."
And with that, Terence rapped himself on the forehead again, restoring himself to his usual appearance. He stepped into the corridor, looking as innocent as possible as he strolled toward the tapestry.
"Stop right there!" the portrait of Gwydion called out. "Where do you think you're going?"
Terence looked over his shoulder, then gestured at himself. "Who, me?"
"Who else do you think?"
Harry crept into the corridor, crouching over and sticking close to the wall.
"I need to use the loo, and the staircase behind the tapestry is the fastest way there," Terence said, eyebrows raised. "It's not nighttime. There's no rule about not using the back entrance as long as it isn't past curfew."
"A likely story! I'm not a fool, boy. Professor Snape is down there this minute conducting an inspection, and I'm not about to let you creep past!"
"An inspection?" Terence sucked in the air around his teeth. "Are you joking?"
"Of course I'm not joking, boy!"
Terence looked over his shoulder, pausing as he saw someone. At the top of his lungs, he shouted, "Oi! Bletchley!"
Gwydion winced at the volume of Terence's voice. This was Harry's chance; as the portrait's eyes monetarily narrowed, he ducked down as close to the ground as he could and scurried past the portrait. He slid underneath the tapestry and bolted downstairs as Terence warned Miles Bletchley of the inspection currently underway.
Harry emerged one level below and bolted toward the corridor leading to the boys' dorms. If Snape had gone there first it was too late, but Harry held out hope that he'd gone for the girls' dorms first. He skidded to a stop outside the first years' room and let out a deep sigh of relief; the doors were closed and there was no sign of Snape.
Unless he'd already been here and was now in the girls dorms', Harry's cloak under his arm.
Harry swallowed and pushed open the door, hardly believing what he'd tossed himself into. He heaved another sigh of relief; all the trunks were closed and there were no signs Snape had just been through them. Harry bolted over and rummaged through his quickly, yanking the Invisibility Cloak loose. He then scrambled to the sixth years' dorm and wrenched open Terence's trunk.
He had the bottle of scotch in his hand when he heard Professor Snape's footsteps echo down the corridor. He froze, and to his horror he saw his body begin to return to its normal state. Terence had estimated three minutes, but the charm barely lasted a minute-and-a-half.
A bang as the door to the seventh years' dorm flew open. Without stopping to think, he yanked on the Invisibility Cloak and crawled under the bed. The magazines were pinned between the bedframe and the mattress, and as Harry pried them loose he quickly came to see why Terence didn't want Professor Snape to know he had them. Blushing furiously, Harry rolled them up and stuffed them into his robes' pocket, then slipped out from under the bed and hurried across the room, freezing once more as Professor Snape swept in the door.
Another hand clamped over his mouth, but this time it was Harry's as he desperately tried not to make a sound. Harry flattened himself against a stone wall, watching as Snape used his wand to lift mattresses and sort through his students' trunks and dresser drawers. Harry watched silently as he spent a considerable amount of time going through Marcus Flint's things, more time than he spent on any other resident of the sixth year dorm.
Snape straightened himself, then raised his wand. Under his breath, he murmured, "Accio cigarettes."
A packet came soaring from under one of the beds. Snape caught it, slipping it into one of the voluminous pockets of his robes, but he didn't lower his wand. A faint sound came from the stone wall opposite the door. Harry watched as Snape crossed the room and studied the wall. After a moment, he seemed to locate the source of the sound and ran his hand against it until he found and pulled out a loose stone. One more packet came flying out, hovering in the air for him to catch.
Harry watched with horrified fascination, suddenly extremely aware of what he was clutching under his cloak. He slipped off his shoes as quietly as he could and tucked them under his arm, then darted for the door. Holding his breath, he made it into the corridor just as Snape raised his wand.
"Accio alcohol."
Harry winced, tightening his grip on the bottle of scotch, but it didn't move. Harry gaped wordlessly at it, then back at Snape, who remained empty-handed. Then it clicked. Snape was probably confining the spell to each dorm as he inspected it; if he summoned all the surrounding alcohol, he wouldn't be able to see which student's possessions it came from.
Clutching his shoes and contraband, Harry hurried further down the corridor toward the tapestry.
"Good of you to join us, Mr. Potter."
Harry blinked in surprise as he stepped into the common room. Professor Snape stood by the doorway that led to the spiral staircase to the dorms, the rest of the house gathered against the long wall opposite the fireplace, many shifting uncomfortably.
"What's going on?" he asked, scurrying to join the rest. Snape raised an eyebrow and he quickly added, "Sir."
"What do you think?" Draco muttered as Harry slipped next to him.
Professor Snape strode up to the students, many of whom winced. He paused a moment before turning to Harry. "You took an exceedingly long time making your way to the common room tonight. Where were you, Mr. Potter?"
"Just taking a walk after dinner, sir," Harry said. He could feel Terence Higgs' eyes boring into him.
There was a long, terrible silence, then Snape said, "Empty your pockets."
All eyes were on Harry as he reached inside his pockets and turned them out, revealing only two Chocolate Frogs, a broken quill, and some owl pellets. Snape held out a hand and nodded at his schoolbag. Harry handed it to him, and he rifled through briefly, then gave Harry a curt nod before returning his gaze to the rest of the Slytherins.
"One bottle of bourbon. One bottle of scotch. Four packets of cigarettes. Several... quite lewd magazines whose contents we shall not discuss." Snape's face went particularly dark as he said, "One Auto-Answering Quill." He paced up and down the assembled Slytherins, his mouth a thin line. "Two Fanged Frisbees. One Ever-Bashing Boomerang." The students around Harry shuffled in place, even the ones who hadn't hidden anything. Snape paused. "The owners of these items will make their way to my office tonight. Spare me any pleas that they're not yours, and do not make me come to you."
He started to leave, then paused and turned back. "And to the person present who took it upon himself to draw a full issue of his own... magazine," he said slowly. "I suggest you focus more on your schoolwork than your deeply misconceived notions as to what the female form looks like."
The Slytherins, terrified as many of them were, erupted into stifled snickers as Snape swept impassively away, out of the common room.
While Snape was preoccupied with his guilty students in his office, Harry slipped out of the common room, heading toward the unused classroom he'd seen Terence Higgs and Ellen Greybourne sneak into the night of Christmas. It didn't take long for Terence to catch up with him.
"You saved me," the older boy murmured as they made their way further into the dungeons. "I can't thank you enough, Potter."
"You saved me," Harry replied. "If you hadn't been there I never would have slipped past Gwydion."
"We tell no one," Terence said solemnly, offering Harry a hand, which he shook. "Otherwise, it's my Head Prefect badge. Where did you hide our things?"
Harry paused. "Nowhere. I'll bring it back to the common room. You can wait for me there."
"Don't be stupid," Terence said, smirking slightly. "I'm Head Prefect, aren't I? Always good to know the firsties' hiding spots."
"I thought you said you owed me," Harry shot back, to which Terence just smirked wider and said, "I do. Doesn't mean I'm not curious."
They reached the classroom, and Harry hesitated as Terence continued to follow him. "I'll get it. Wait here."
Terence gave him a funny look. "What have you got hidden? You're barely out of the womb. Can't be any worse than booze and... you know."
"It's nothing," Harry mumbled, not sure what to do.
Terence paused, then said, "Accio scotch!"
The drawer of a long-abandoned teachers' desk flew open, and Terence's bottle of scotch came soaring out. He caught it, then strode over to the desk as Harry hurried after him.
"Wait," Harry said. "Please, don't."
It was too late. Terence plunged his hand into the open desk drawer, and a moment later he emerged with his magazines- and the cloak.
Terence held it up, staring at the silvery fabric. Harry silently prayed he didn't know what it was. Then he turned to Harry and exhaled. "Well, shit, Potter."
"It really belonged to your father?"
Harry stared at the ceiling. He was flat on his back next to a desk with a broken leg, as Terence sat cross-legged on the teachers' desk.
"Yeah," he said at last. "At least that's what the note said."
"And you have no idea who sent it?"
Harry shook his head. Terence sighed. "Professor Snape would murder me if he found out I knew about this and didn't tell anyone. He'd murder me."
"And he'd murder you if he knew about your scotch and your sorry magazines," Harry shot back.
"It's different," Terence said quietly. "You know it's different."
"Really?" Harry asked, pushing himself up. "Maybe it wouldn't be so bad if he just knew about the contraband. But how do you think he's going to react if he knew his Head Prefect went behind his back and made an innocent first year sneak into the dorms to find them?"
"Made you, my arse! It was just as much your idea as it was mine!" Terence ran a hand through his hair, which he'd done so many times in the last few minutes it now stuck up in all directions, not unlike Harry's.
The two fell silent. Quietly, Harry said, "Please don't tell him." When Terence didn't respond, he said, "I haven't used it."
Terence snorted. "Like hell you haven't."
"Really. Christmas night, fine, I wandered a little around the dungeons to test it out, but I didn't go any further than this classroom. And I hadn't taken it out of my trunk since. Not until today."
Terence uncrossed his legs and stood up, pacing back and forth across the room. "I should tell. It'll be hell from Snape if I tell him what we did today, but it'll be holy hell if he finds out I hid knowledge of a first year with an Invisibility Cloak..." He shot Harry a dirty look. "You've really put me in a pickle, Potter."
"You put yourself in a pickle when you helped me sneak into the dorms," Harry shot back.
"Damn it," Terence muttered under his breath, then glanced sideways at Harry, pausing in his pacing. "You said you came by this classroom the night of Christmas?"
"Yeah," Harry said. He hid a small smile. "I suppose I'm not the only one who likes to sneak out at night, am I?"
Terence stared at him, horror slowly creeping over his face. He flopped back onto the teachers' desk heavily, deflating into himself. "You absolute little shit."
"I haven't told anyone," Harry said, walking over to one of the desks. To Terence's disbelieving expression, he said, "I really haven't. I don't care if you and Ellen are secretly dating. You're both decent. Why would I blab about it if you didn't want anyone to know?"
Terence stared at him suspiciously, then deflated even more. Quietly, almost to himself, he murmured, "It's complicated." When Harry didn't reply, he looked up and said, "We're waiting a bit to tell people. Some of our friends know, but her parents are... well, they're not as hardline as mine. But they liked You-Know-Who. They liked him a lot, even if they didn't take his mark and follow him directly. They wouldn't approve of us, to say the least."
"I don't understand," Harry said. "What's wrong with you? You're a Pure-blood, just like them. You're a great student, too. And you're Head Prefect. You have top marks in Slytherin. Practically in the entire school. Why wouldn't anyone like you?"
"Because I stopped talking to my parents over their values and left home to stay with George Lambourne's family when I was fourteen," Terence said simply. "I have a bit of a reputation among certain Slytherin parents, Potter. Not a good one."
"Oh," Harry said, then fell silent. "Right."
"Ellen's mother is a bit... overbearing," Terence said carefully. "She wants what's best for her daughter, but they don't agree on what that means." He sighed and stuffed his hands in his pockets. "It won't be a secret forever. Just... for now. Until we can find a way they won't make her life miserable when she goes home for the holidays."
Harry felt a pinprick of anger shoot through his stomach. He shook his head. "That's not fair."
"Life isn't fair," Terence said flatly, without a trace of self-pity. "It is what it is." He paused. "You really haven't told anyone?"
"No one," Harry said firmly. "And I'm not going to. Not even if you tell Snape about my cloak."
Terence let out a breath. "Talk about guilt trips. You're hitting me low, Potter."
"Are you going to tell him?" When Terence didn't answer, Harry said, "Last time we were in his office... he said if any of us kept a secret from him again, he'd cane us. I don't know if hiding the Invisibility Cloak counts as keeping a secret from him, but..."
"Don't you?" Terence asked, and Harry's stomach sank, along with his gaze. Of course it counted.
After a moment, he looked up. "You don't seem very surprised." He paused. "Did Ellen tell you? She's the only other person who knows he told us that."
"Don't hold it against her." Terence gave him a self-conscious shrug. "But yeah, she did."
Harry stepped away from the desk and found a rickety wooden chair. He lowered himself into it. After a moment, he turned back to Terence. "She told me Snape's only used the cane once. But she wouldn't tell me who, or why, just that it had been three years ago. You were at Hogwarts then. What happened?"
Terence's face went dark, his lips forming a thin line. "That's... it's not something anyone likes to talk about, Potter."
Harry leaned forward, gripped by curiosity. "Why not? What happened? I've heard Snape had a rough time getting Slytherin in line after the war, but this was just three years ago, once things were better."
"It's not a pleasant story," Terence said firmly. "And it wasn't Slytherin's finest hour."
"Ellen said that too," Harry said. "I just don't understand. I know some Slytherins attacked a Gryffindor once, so badly she nearly died. If he didn't use the cane then, why later? What could possibly be worse than that?" One person in particular floated to the top of his mind, and he asked, "Was it Marcus Flint?"
Terence gave him a sharp look, and Harry knew he'd struck something. "It was, wasn't it? I promise I won't tell."
"Yes," he said at last. "And no."
"What does that mean?"
Terence thought this over for a long time. Finally, he said, "The reason Snape didn't cane the students who hexed that Gryffindor girl was because what they did was so terrible they were expelled. The cane is bad, but it's not the worst thing that can happen."
Harry shuddered slightly. The only person he knew who'd been expelled from Hogwarts was Hagrid, who steadfastly refused to discuss the subject.
"I wasn't here when that happened, but some of the upper years when I started Hogwarts were," Terence went on. "They told me what Slytherin used to be like, and how three people being expelled at once scared everyone half out of their wits. Snape had a real fight ahead of him, but those expulsions put real fear into Slytherin. They fought him, and he fought back, but the truly terrible days of Slytherin were over."
Harry thought this over. It made sense.
That had been 1982. By the time Terence showed up, he explained, all the incoming first years knew of the expulsions, but it wasn't something that happened to one of their classmates. They'd grown up listening to their parents wax nostalgic about the Dark Lord, but their actual memories of those days were foggier than the students who'd come before.
"I was a right turd back then," Terence admitted in a low voice. "Worse than your little friend Draco his first month here."
"You couldn't have been worse than him," Harry protested.
"Do you remember the first night Neville Longbottom came to the common room and Marcus and Draco chased him off?"
Harry nodded. Of course he remembered. He and six other Slytherins, including Terence, had tracked Neville down to this very classroom.
"I told you then why Draco Malfoy was spending one evening a week in Professor Snape's classroom. He tries to undo the damage of the kids who've really been indoctrinated as subtly as he can. Malfoy's sessions lasted two months. Mine lasted nearly the entire year."
Harry was silent. He couldn't imagine the upstanding, (mostly) rule-abiding, friendly Head Prefect before him ever being anything like Draco Malfoy, much less worse.
"Wait," he said after a moment. "What does this have to do with Marcus Flint getting caned three years ago?"
Terence, who was gazing at one of the desks, slowly looked up at Harry. "Because it wasn't just him."
Harry didn't understand, then he did. He stared at Terence. "You?"
"Both of us," Terence said quietly, in a low voice filled with so many emotions Harry couldn't begin to sort them out.
They'd been friends, Terence explained, since they were kids. Their fathers were friends at school, and their two children quickly became close. Terence, who wouldn't have a sibling until his sister was born when he was nine, considered Marcus his brother. When they came to Hogwarts they believed, just as their parents did, that they were superior to those with blood unlike theirs.
"I can't tell you how many times we were hauled off to Snape's office that first year," Terence said with a rueful shake of his head. "We were horrid. Insulted every Muggle-born around in the cruelest ways possible. We stole their books, stuck Dungbombs in their bags. Made some of them cry. Poor Snape was doing his best to rehabilitate the image of Slytherin. Meanwhile we were running around reenforcing everything he'd practically managed to stamp out."
Before long they were threatened with the cane if they didn't shape up, just as Harry and his friends had been after the Nicolas Flamel incident. Just like Harry and his friends, the mere thought was enough to frighten them to pull their act together, at least to an extent that wouldn't warrant its use.
"He hates the thing," Terence confided in Harry. "He told me that years later. When he was younger, the person before Filch was in charge of discipline, and he didn't hold back. He was cruel. Snape admitted to me he's glad just the threat of the cane frightens nearly everyone into behaving, because he despises actually using it."
And so Terence and Marcus toned things down enough to evade more serious punishment. Over time, and countless sessions in Snape's classroom after dinner, Terence found himself begrudgingly beginning to see things differently. It came so slowly he didn't see it until Professor Snape carefully brought the change about him to his attention. Before coming to Hogwarts he'd never met a Muggle-born, and only a handful of Half-bloods. They weren't, he knew now, enemies or fools.
"I'd always questioned things more than Marcus," Terence said with a small shrug. "I'd ask why when he didn't. Snape encouraged it in both of us, but only I listened. So we drifted apart. It felt like the worst thing in the world, but we'd become too different for things to ever be the same."
Harry nodded, then asked, "But..."
"I'm getting to it," Terence said gruffly.
Their first and second years passed. Terence came back to school his third year tense, as he had the year before. After a summer with his parents he found himself conflicted, wondering if maybe Snape's views were bollocks after all. He knew better, of course, but after two months at home thirteen-year-old Terence found himself torn between two worlds, neither of which he wanted to definitively leave. He and Marcus slowly began to rekindle their distant friendship.
"Marcus was meaner than I remembered," Terence said. "And I'd become swottier than he remembered. But he was my mate, you know? I'd missed him."
Marcus continued to quietly bully those he considered either traitors or unworthy to bear their magical abilities. Terence didn't take part anymore, but he didn't do anything to stop him either.
"I'd just look the other way and not participate," Terence admitted. "Saying nothing. I'm not proud of it. Snape once told me standing by and ignoring injustice is just as bad as perpetrating it. Then, at the start of October, everything went wrong. Reggie Derrick was a first year. He's a Half-blood, and he was brave enough to stand up to Marcus when he mocked his Muggle mother." He lowered his head. "Marcus said really vile things about her. I won't repeat them. But Reggie was a scrappy little firstie. Marcus wasn't used to that. He went out of his way to pick on people smaller than him because they'd be too afraid to fight back."
"I know someone like that," Harry murmured, thinking of Dudley.
Reggie countered with a list of Flint Sr.'s various embarrassments over their years, including his failure to rise high in the ranks of the Death Eaters during the war, his paper-thin excuse he'd been under the Imperius Curse when it ended, and his inability to rise in power at the Ministry because his miserable personality meant no one actually liked or respected him.
"If there's one thing to know about Marcus," Terence said, looking away, "It's that he does not take well to insults against his father."
They were near the Quidditch pitch, and Marcus dragged Reggie behind the changing rooms. Terence followed, trying to defuse the situation, but not intervening.
"Marcus shouted at me to keep watch, and I did. Then..." Terence stared at the wall. "He tried to use the Cruciatus Curse on him."
"What's that?" Harry asked quietly, judging from Terence's tone that it wasn't pleasant at all.
"It's..." He swallowed. "An Unforgiveable Curse. Causes horrible pain. Doesn't leave a mark, but it's some of the worst torture you can endure. If an adult is caught using it, it means life in Azkaban. No chance of parole."
Harry knew what Azkaban was, mainly because the parents of half his housemates had narrowly avoided going there after the war.
"It didn't work," Terence went on. "Marcus was a little shit, but he was thirteen. You have to really mean it if you want to use an Unforgiveable. So he tossed his wand aside and pummeled him instead."
"What did you do?" Harry asked, his throat suddenly very dry.
"Nothing," he said quietly. He'd stood by, silently watching, too horrified to take part but too frightened to try and stop it.
"I kept watch. Just like he asked me to." Terence bit his lip, clearly still aggrieved by the memory three years later. "Then I went back to my dorm and told no one. I thought because I didn't take part I wasn't as culpable as Marcus. Because I felt bad, maybe it made a difference."
"Snape didn't feel the same way, did he?"
Terence shook his head. "He didn't."
Reggie told Madam Pomfrey he'd fallen off his broom and been patched up by dinner. It was four days later that he confided to fellow first year Lucian Bole what had actually happened.
"And Lucian told Snape?"
Terence shook his head again. Reggie had revealed the story in the tiny space all first years took over for themselves at some point behind the tapestry of Chiron the Centaur.
"The one connected to Snape's office," Harry all but breathed.
"Snape showed up us in the common room and brought us to his office. I've never seen him like that before or since. He was practically silent." Terence's gaze went faraway now, as though he were somewhere else. "Drew the confessions out of us. Dragged us back to the common room. Made us stand in the middle of the room as he rounded every last Slytherin in the castle. Had them line up. Made us announce to them what we'd done. Then he caned us both. Six each, while everyone watched."
Harry stared at him. "I didn't know."
"It's not exactly something anyone likes to talk about," Terence said quietly. "It's not like when Snape had a go at you and Draco for going after that Remembrall. We tried to use an Unforgiveable Curse. We attacked a first year because of his blood status. It's not a funny angry-Snape story."
"Marcus did that," Harry offered weakly. "Not you."
Terence shook his head. "The next morning I went to Snape's office. He didn't summon me. I just went. Seeking forgiveness, I suppose. He laid into me. I mean really laid into me. Told me I thought I was better than Marcus because I didn't do what he did, and that standing by and doing nothing was just as bad as taking part."
"How do you think the Dark Lord rose to power?" Snape had snarled as he towered over the shrinking Terence, leaning forward with his hands flat on his desk. The more he cowered, the harsher Snape's tone became. "Not only because of his followers, but because of well-meaning people who disapproved yet looked the other way until it was too late!"
It went on and on, Snape's voice rising to a shout as he slammed a hand against his desk and tore into how Terence claimed to no longer believe in Pure-blood supremacy yet still spent his time with those who actively encouraged it, never once speaking to the contrary.
"I was going to tell you," Terence had finally managed to squeak out to the housemaster. "I swear, sir."
Snape then fixed him with a look Terence would never forget for the rest of his life. Anger, sadness, pity, and disgust all wrapped together. "Then why, Mr. Higgs, did I have to find out on my own four days later?"
"I..." Terence trailed off.
"Don't bother," Snape said. "I don't want to hear it."
Terence felt his body do something then, something it took a moment for him to understand were sobs. He sank into the chair in front of Professor Snape's desk and blubbered like a small child, so consumed by guilt and embarrassment and rage at his actions. He'd expected Snape to turf him out then and there, but he didn't. He sat behind his desk, waited until Terence had sobbed it all out, gave him a handkerchief, and then they talked.
"We spoke for hours," Terence told Harry. "By the time I left his office, everything was different. I knew I couldn't just think what was right. I had to do what was right." He smiled self-consciously. "Might have been a bit too zealous at first. That summer my parents and I had it out, and I moved in with George Lambourne. I know I'm a bit of a stickler sometimes, but I need to be. I can't..." He trailed off, then pushed forward. "I can't go back. I can't be that person again." He shrugged, finally turning back to Harry. "Anyway, seems to be working. Snape made me Head Prefect, didn't he?"
Harry nodded slowly, absently twisting the hood of his Invisibility Cloak around his hand. "And Marcus?"
He shrugged again. "He's still Marcus. I want to believe he'll change, but I don't know if he ever will."
They fell silent. Harry gazed down at his now-invisible hand and pulled it loose from the cloak. "Did it hurt?"
"The cane? Or things with Marcus?"
"Both."
Terence smiled ruefully. "Like the flames of hell."
Harry winced, looking down at his cloak. He nodded. "Are you...?"
"I don't know." Terence sighed. "I owe Professor Snape a great deal. Everything, really. I don't want to go behind his back. Not more than I already have today."
"I really haven't been using it," Harry said. "I'm too afraid of what he'll do if he catches me."
Terence snorted at this. "The right mindset to take. Take it from me, Potter, you never want to give him reason to use that bloody thing. Worst experience of my life."
"So..." Harry trailed off hopefully, and Terence heaved an even heavier sigh.
"Don't make me regret it," he said, and Harry let out a sigh of his own.
"Thank you. Thank you, thank you. I promise I won't."
"I'm keeping my eye on you," Terence said as Harry folded the cloak and stuck it into the pocket of his robes. "I mean that. One toe out of line..."
Harry snorted. "You're already keeping an eye on me. I'm not stupid."
"And yet you still managed to snag an Invisibility Cloak without anyone noticing," Terence pointed out as they started back toward the common room, both bearing pockets lumpy with contraband goods.
"What's scotch like?" Harry broke the silence as they drew closer to the common room.
"Burns," Terence said. "I'm not letting you try mine, firstie."
"Wasn't asking." Harry paused. "Does Ellen know you have those magazines?"
Terence's cheeks turned bright red. "They're from before we started dating. Don't-"
"I won't." Harry grinned. They'd reached the common room, but he paused. "You go ahead. I'll be right back."
He left Terence behind and hurried to Gryffindor Tower, hoping he wasn't making a mistake, but unsure where else to go to. The Fat Lady obligingly cracked open for him, not far enough to enter the common room, but enough to call inside for Neville, who joined him in the corridor a moment later. Harry led him around a corner, out of sight of the Fat Lady.
"Listen," he said. "Neville. Does Professor McGonagall inspect your dorms?"
"What?" Neville blinked. "No, she doesn't."
"Good." Harry pulled the Invisibility Cloak out from his pocket.
Neville's eyes widened as Harry shoved it into his hands. "Is that...?"
"Yes," Harry said quickly. "Someone gave it to me for Christmas. It belonged to my dad. It's the only thing of his I have, and I don't want anyone to know about it. Can you keep it hidden for me in your trunk?"
Neville gaped at him. "But why-?"
"Because I trust you," Harry interrupted. "Don't tell Ron. Or anyone else. Please."
Neville's mouth moved a bit like a fish for a moment, then he nodded, his voice practically a squeak as he said, "All right, then."
"Thank you," Harry said, relaxing. "Thank you, Neville. I owe you."
"Do you want to come in?" Neville asked, nodding down the corridor in the direction of the portrait. "We're playing Exploding Snap."
Indeed, a small patch of Neville's hair was slightly singed. Harry would normally be happy to join, but the events of the evening weighed on him so heavily he wanted nothing more than to call it an early night.
"Next time," he promised. "And thank you again, Neville."
He started back toward the stairs, nearly walking straight into Terence Higgs as he rounded the corner. He let out a yelp that quickly turned to an indignant grimace as Terence smirked at him.
"Gryffindor Tower. Not a bad hiding place." He grinned wider at the look on Harry's face. "Oh, don't pout. I told you I'd be keeping an eye on you."
Harry shot him a wounded look as they started back downstairs. "Can I fly on your broomstick for a bit, at least?"
"It's practically your curfew. Tomorrow?"
Harry nodded, and Terence slipped him a Sugar Quill from Honeydukes as they made their way back to the common room.
