At breakfast, Ron Weasley was perorating to at least a third of the Gryffindor table (and part of the Hufflepuff one) his opinion on the upcoming classes, whether they wanted to hear it or not. Harry, who had earlier tuned him out, perked up when the boy moved on to the potions professor.
"Yeah, Snape's a right bastard, I hear. Favours his Slytherins and picks on us Gryffs. You should hear Charlie and especially Bill go on about him. Almost ruined Bill's chances for getting twelve OWLs, y'know."
Sophie Roper and Morag MacDougal exchanged worried looks, while the rest of the girls ignored the redhead as they angled to get the attention of some older boys seated farther down. "I cannae believe he would be tha' bad and still keep his position," Morag fretted.
"Well, it's so, so there! Percy says he changed for the better during his third year, but he's a brown-nosing git who wants to match Bill's record. The twins back him up, but who can trust their word?" He shot them a nasty look, to which they replied with kissy faces. "Fred told me we'd have to wrestle a troll to get sorted!"
"Obviously, the best course of action is to wait until we have the class and decide for ourselves."
The two girls visibly relaxed at Harry's calm statement, before the Weasley mouth began making noise again while he filled another plate from the trenchers. "You'll come around to my way of thinking when the greasy bastard makes a pet out of your poncey friend." He might have added more animadversions, but the conversation was interrupted.
"Mr. Potter."
Harry met the eyes of his Head of House. "Yes, Professor McGonagall?"
"Headmaster Dumbledore wishes to see you in his office at the earliest convenience."
"You're in for it now, Potter," Ron Weasley managed around a mouthful of pancake. After swallowing he leaned forward. "He'll put an end to any friendship with slimy Slytherins."
Harry's posture stiffened. "Professor, I have not yet had any classes. What school-related issue would the headmaster have to discuss with me?"
The tall Scotswoman flushed. "I believe he mentioned the title which you–and some others–unexpectedly bear."
"Ah, I understand. Then, as this is not a curriculum-based topic, I must insist that my guardian of record be present. I believe this right is guaranteed in the Hogwarts Charter?" He raised an eyebrow.
"Indeed it is, Mr. Potter. However, orphaned and muggleborn students are represented by their head of house."
"My roommate Dean Thomas may have need of that service, but I have a royally appointed magical guardian."
McGonagall's eyes glinted at that information yet her shoulders heaved as she sighed audibly. "There is no time for that person, should he or she exist, to travel from London. The headmaster is not one to endure waiting."
"That matters not to me, and besides, it should take no more than a quarter of an hour for Mr. Steadman to make it here. He resides at our collective home in Hogsmeade, after all. I believe he will also take this opportunity to present you with his written intention of tutoring us on weekends there."
"Students below third year are restricted to the castle."
Harry got to his feet and raised his voice; not that it was needed, as everyone in the Great Hall was listening in. "Exceptions are granted if family business is involved. Is that not correct, Earl Fer-de-lance?"
Draco slowly stood and agreed with a sly smile. "Indeed, Earl Lyonesse. My father would take it greatly amiss should I lose out on such important practical instruction, and I believe he heads the School Board, does he not, Madam Deputy Headmistress?"
Glancing around, McGonagall spied Hermione almost twitching in her seat while the Longbottom heir (and why did that boy not end up in Gryffindor like his father before him?) regarded her with narrowed eyes. She grudgingly replied, "Then by all means, notify this...guardian, and I shall inform the headmaster of the delay."
Harry rose and headed for the antechamber, Draco practically on his heels. "It looks like our greeting this morning will be cut short." He tapped his ring with the appropriate signal then raised his head. "Lead on to the dungeons."
Severus Snape rubbed his eyes tiredly. Not even the extra-strong coffee was enough to wipe the nightmare of Lily's death from his mind, brought on, no doubt, by looking into those bright green eyes on the face of her son. So it was with more than usual harshness that he responded to the knock on the office door. "Yes, come in! What trouble can those pestilential brats have gotten into before classes have even commenced?" he added in a lower tone.
He rose when a smaller version of the Dark Lord's former lieutenant came through the doorway and shuddered at the almost carbon copy of James Potter following him. "Mr. Malfoy," he frowned, "is anything amiss?"
"Not at all, professor." Draco's head dipped slightly in respect. "I am taking advantage of your friendship with my father to introduce someone who requests an audience with you." He gestured Harry forward. "Although I'm sure both of you already know the other's name."
"Professor Snape," he also gave a small bow, "I am aware of your friendship with my mother and greet you in her name."
"If that is the case, young man, you know very well that the adjective 'former' is missing from your statement."
"In later entries of her diaries–which I possess–Lily Evans Potter greatly regretted her lack of forgiveness and wished that she could take back her rejection of your apology."
"What I said to her," Snape admitted gruffly, "did not deserve to be forgiven."
"I believe that everyone should have the opportunity for repentance. While I would prefer to have my parents alive, I understand that, once they set themselves in opposition to Voldemort, their days were numbered. You informing that person of the prophecy shortened those days and indirectly forced them to research whichever arcane magick allowed me to survive his attack. Therefore, as you were–what is the latest euphemism?–'not in a good situation mentally' at the time, I bear you no ill will for the act."
The potions professor reached back with his hand to steady himself. "You know of that? But how?"
Draco snorted. "I've spent four years with non-magicals, and their intelligence gathering procedures are second to none. Add to those endeavours many who were marginalized in the magical world and fled, and there are few secrets left about the life and death of Tom Riddle." His teeth flashed briefly. "There remain some concerning the Headmaster, but they're working on them."
"Professor Dumbledore does not believe the Dark Lord has completely left the earthly plane."
"Our confidence is rather high," Harry stated imperturbably. "Sir, pardon the intrusive question, but were you marked with the sign of Mosmordre?"
Snape stared speechlessly for a moment before he rolled up his left sleeve. "It has all but faded. A few years ago there was what the muggle healers would call an 'epidemic' which left all Death Eaters weakened, some to the point of death. I myself collapsed in the classroom."
"And were you covered with grey dust afterwards?" At the shocked nod, he continued, "We have reports of similar occurrences. All this apparently happened when a portion of Mr. Afraid-of-Death's soul stuck in my forehead was shattered."
Extending a finger, Snape pushed the light fringe aside. "Those infernal book illustrations featured a scar and glasses, and you have neither."
"Scam artists, the lot of them. I'm using disposable contact lenses until I'm old enough for the eye-correcting potion." He shrugged. "Or I might just try the new laser surgery; Her Majesty's physicians outstrip their nonmagical associates in accuracy. But, back to my original topic, as time is short, a diary which had been in Draco's father's possession had a similar reaction. The theory is that it was a soul anchor–"
"A horcrux," the professor muttered, "damn him! How many did he make, for his ego would insist upon an arithmagically strong number?"
"Unknown." He cast a quick Tempus and cursed, "Blast! I have a meeting with a meddling old man."
"Potter, do not look in his eyes," he advised. "Secrets do not need to be spoken to be revealed."
Harry gave him a smirk which tinged of James Potter but without the malice. "Illegal legilimency? We thought as much and are prepared." He held out a hand to shake. "Perhaps we can visit at a later date. If you would like, I am willing to share my mother's journals."
"I–it would be a pleasure. But not," he smiled in an unhurried manner, "something to be told to the headmaster at this time."
"On it, sir!" He gave a quasi-military salute and left.
Snape regarded closely the young snake in his office. "Mr. Malfoy, your father explained your absence as attending an experimental magical preparatory academy. I feel that many details were left out of that description."
"Mr. Potter and Mr. Steadman have arrived for your meeting." McGonagall narrowed her eyes at the quickly dismissed expression of irritation on the headmaster's face.
"Ah, come in!" Dumbledore half stood and gestured towards some straight backed chairs as he relaxed into the comfortably upholstered one behind the desk. He folded his hands and looked over his spectacles with an expression of disappointment. "Harry, my boy, there was really no necessity to involve another party."
"With all due respect," Steadman spoke, "Lord Lyonesse is not 'your boy', and as his guardian, I have every right to attend any and all meetings concerning his education. Although," he quirked an eyebrow, "I understand that this is not the stated topic."
Dumbledore pursed his lips and glared at McGonagall, who bore his displeasure easily. "'Twas a normal question to be asked, as Mr. Potter has not yet had any classes, and I forbore to lie to him."
"There are certain things that staff should keep in confidence… But back to our illustrious visitor. Perhaps you are unaware, Mr. Steadman, that I was appointed young Harry's guardian. Therefore, your presence is definitely de trop."
"I think not." Steadman cast a cushioning charm on his chair as he leaned back. "You were certainly never mentioned in Lily Potter's will as such. Once that overreach of authority was made known, Her Majesty took it upon herself to rectify the matter."
"How did you–" Dumbledore was indignant. "The Potters' wills were sealed."
"So they were in the wizarding world. Mrs. Potter, however, never left her non-magical roots behind. It was with little effort that we found a duplicate copy. Which, interestingly enough, did not list Mrs. Dursley as one of the appointed guardians for her son. Would you care to elaborate on this discrepancy?"
"There was good reason! Our society was a dangerous place for Harry at that time. His mother's blood protected him from the killing curse, so it was with a blood relative that he would be safe."
"Ah!" Steadman took out a small notebook and checked that the last few words had been recorded by the scribing charm. "An admission to leaving the boy with abusive guardians. I shall add that to the evidence we have been compiling."
"Evidence? I am afraid–"
"I am afraid, Headmaster Dumbledore, that if you reach for your wand to obliviate me or place a compulsion, you will receive an unpleasant shock for attempting such."
The old man slowly placed both hands flat on the desk. "I resent such an allegation, and I am certain that Professor McGonagall concurs." He was disconcerted when the Scotswoman merely gazed at a corner of the room. "Nevertheless, Harry is under my supervision now, so your so-called guardianship is unnecessary."
"Based on his past history, Her Majesty disagrees."
"That is the second time you have brought up the muggle queen. She has no say in the situation."
Steadman stood. "Come, Lord Lyonesse. Headmaster, I advise you to leave all of my charges to pursue their education without interference. In the free time created by your cessation of intrusive activities, it would behoove you to review the Great Charter. Good day." He and Harry exited the office with composed expressions.
"Thank you, sir," Harry murmured once they were out of earshot.
"Just doing my duty," he grinned, "which turned into a pleasure putting that old man into his proper place."
"He still holds powerful offices."
"For the present. Now I must leave to acquaint our investigative team of this information. Enjoy your first day of classes."
Once the door behind the visitors clanged shut, Dumbledore looked at McGonagall pettishly. "Thank you for coming to my defence, Minerva."
"Ye deserve not my support in this, Albus." She shook a finger. "Do you not try to exercise any authority over Mr. Potter. He is one of my Lions!"
