A/N: As ever, thanks to guests and Hamlet!

Chapter 4: A Slytherin History Lesson #1

Slytherin dungeon corridor, 4:57pm

"You took your time!"

Millicent was waiting next to Licorus Black, who, fortunately for all concerned, happened to be snoozing.

"I didn't have a choice. I wasn't exactly calling the shots in there!"

"Fair point."

Harry turned right for the common room, but was pulled straight ahead to the spiral staircase.

"Meeting with the Brainbox - and we're gonna be late." Explained Millicent.

He gave a quiet groan; why did Hermione's meetings always coincide with when he wanted to flop and do nothing?

"Friggedy dooh-dah! Over three hours, Potter! What went on?" Millicent asked as they took the spiral stairs two at a time.

"You'll never guess. He made me lunch, and it was good!"

"Ah …"

The light of recognition appeared in Millicent's face.

"Nice when he does that, isn't it?" She said.

"Does he do it often?"

Harry was puzzled. It didn't seem particularly Snape-like.

"Often?! Fuck no! But sometimes first-years are homesick, and other first-years are real odd bods who don't know how to fit in with a group. I mean, most of this lot never went to primary school; they had tutors and governesses …"

They reached the entrance hall and were spotted by Gregory Goyle.

"Where've you been, Potter? Fancy a game of cribbage?"

Nope, thought Harry. Cribbage was Goyle's latest thing. Sophie had introduced him to it as a way of improving his mental arithmetic. But Sophie was clearly a rotten tutor, or Greg a hopeless case. Harry'd only played one game with him, and it'd been sheer torture - Greg still not up to counting to thirty-one.

"Maybe later eh, Greg?"

"You're on!"

Bollocks …

"And of course you've got the first-years who're hounded by their hideous parents …"

Millicent was continuing with her list of people Snape occasionally indulged. Harry said he doubted she'd ever been one of them, but found out he was wrong. In her first year she'd had a mad crush on Jemima Deacon only to have Pansy find out and taunt her mercilessly; then go on to warn the rest of the first-year girls they weren't safe with predatory Bulstrode in their dorm. Millicent had wanted to leave Hogwarts, or curl up and die of shame. Or both. Snape put a hairbrush to good use on Pansy, and Millicent had a long chat over fish pie and several pots of tea. Harry was sensing a pattern: homesick firsties, socially inept firsties, frightened firsties, bullied firsties … and him.

"Course, you only get it once." Continued Millicent, "Keep being pathetic and he just gives you a thick ear and tells you to get on with it."

Wrong, thought Harry. He'd had lunch with Snape and breakfast back in February. But he decided it wasn't anything to boast about - just made him seem a bit of a sad case, really.

"Go on, then. How many?!" Smirked Millicent, as they reached the second floor. "And don't try to deny it. Your eyes are still red!"

Were his eyes red? Bloody hell! He'd only got a smacked arse like some first-year who'd pushed their luck. He felt like such a wimp. No, wait! It was lack of sleep. Sure, he'd kipped for a bit but he was still knackered. Then again, he wasn't going to mention falling asleep on Snape's sofa like a toddler put down for a nap. No, keep some dignity. He took The Git's advice and bigged it up.

"Dozen." He shrugged, "And a soap spell - while I was getting the dozen."

"Ouch and yuck!"

oOo

Second floor alcove, 5:06pm

Two right turns, straight on for a bit, then sharp left and Millicent and Harry were under the daunting glare of Vindictus Viridian.

"You reckon he was Snape's great, great, great, great granddad?!"Asked Millicent.

Actually, Harry had never really examined the faded tapestry. He did so now and saw a thin, black-haired, sour-faced wizard stirring something in a huge cauldron with a monumental stirrer. The same one? Surely not?

"Could be; he's got the same dimples and cheery smile! Who was he?"

Millicent pointed to the embroidered inscription at the bottom of the tapestry: Vindictus Viridian, potioneer and headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, 1627 - 1702. Harry bet headmaster Viridian had used that stirrer on his students.

"Where've you been?!"

Hermione poked her head out and yanked them into the alcove. The first thing they saw was Ron sitting on the arm of the sofa grinning like a nutter. Then they saw why. Neville Longbottom was sitting on the other sofa, shaking at Millicent's entrance.

"Boo!" Said Millicent to Neville.

He jumped and Trevor leapt out of his pocket and up onto her head.

"Don't hurt him!" Cried Neville.

"I'm not going to; it's you I'm after! Oh, frigging calm down, Longbottom! It was a joke! Why's he here anyway?" Millicent asked, pointing her thumb at Neville.

"We need to discuss things all together. Draco's still not out. I tried to get into the hospital wing this afternoon, but Madam Pomfrey's put an alarm on the door."

"Hermione! You didn't say it was Draco Malfoy you wanted to see! I can't get involved in this!"

"You won't be involved, Neville. You won't be going anywhere near the hospital. Remember?"

"I don't like this … What if Professor Snape finds out? He's Malfoy's head of house …"

"You know, Neville?" Began Ron, "You kind of are involved anyway. I mean, it was you who pushed me into the floo last night. I know you don't want the details but if you hadn't pushed me, Malfoy wouldn't be in the hospital wing."

"You did that, Neville?!" Asked Harry, "Brilliant! You're a star!"

"You are. Thank you, Longbottom. And my arse thanks you, too!" Said Millicent.

She poked her sizeable bottom in Neville's direction, waggled it and said 'thank you very muchly!' without moving her lips. It was easy to spot Millicent had younger siblings; she had that knack of calming people with a few daft words. For a second it looked like Neville wanted to ask what Millicent's bottom had to do with anything, then he seemed to recall the scary rumours of how Snape dealt with his Slytherins. His admiration for Harry's surviving in the Snake House grew to epic proportions.

"Are you sure you want to do this, Hermione?" He asked, "It's going to hurt and then be as itchy as anything."

"What are you going to do Brainbox?"

"Neville's going to take me to some wiggenbushes and push me into them."

"You what?!" Asked Ron. "You can't do that!"

"You can." Assured Neville, "There's a patch of them just behind the far greenhouse. I helped Professor Sprout prune them before the holidays; they're tricky blighters, though … keep trying to grab your feet as you walk past."

"Not really what I meant, Neville." Said Ron, rolling his eyes.

"Why are you letting Neville push you into the wiggenbushes?" Asked Harry.

"Why are we letting Neville push us." Corrected Hermione, "And I'd have thought the answer was obvious. We need a legitimate reason to be in the hospital."

They stared at her as if she were mad.

"But he'll be out soon!" Argued Millicent.

"Yeah! How long can they keep him there with a supposed upset stomach?!"

"Completely mental!" Cried Ron, "Let's just wait!"

"No. No. No. We can't wait! If any of you had bothered to do any reading on the mind and memory attrition, you'd know that. We have to get together and discuss Harry's meeting with Snape and what happened to Draco in detail before they forget anything."

Oh, effing hell! Harry had forgotten all about Hermione wanting to go over his Snape chat in minute detail. And he knew he hadn't asked anywhere near the number of questions she'd have liked. A way to wriggle out of it sprang into his brain.

"We can't! We have to go to supper now. Snape goes spare if people are late, and I can't get in more trouble with him …"

"No, you can't." Added Hermione disapprovingly and, to Harry's mind, unnecessarily.

"And after supper, I have to go and explain my headaches to him."

"What?" asked Millicent.

"Oh, you told him! Well done!" Said Hermione, "Right! Think! Think! Think!" She told herself. "Millicent? Can you get another notepad and pen for Harry and explain to him why he needs to write down his memories?"

"I can and I will."

"Okay. Early breakfast tomorrow and meet up here at eight. Neville, you're going to come, aren't you? We need you; none of us knows as much about plants as you."

Neville nodded - not quite as wary as he was before.

"Great! Oh! Wear two sets of underpants everyone."

"You what?!" Asked Ron.

"For the itchiness … you know … in case it goes through trousers …" Hermione trailed off sounding acutely embarrassed.

"That's an eye-watering thought, 'Mione." Said Ron, "I'm wearing four."

As Harry and Millicent were the only pair with the crack-pot head of house who insisted they wash and dress properly for meals, they scooted off first. Harry didn't feel too bad about fibbing a little to his mate. Actually, he decided he was going to tell Snape as much as he could - should have done it sooner.

oOo

The Headmaster's office, 9:45pm

"You knew?"

"Not knew, Severus … suspected."

"When?"

Albus Dumbledore looked a little taken aback at the forthrightness employed by his potions professor. But only a little. He then wandered over to Fawkes and stroked his tail feathers.

"When I saw him as a baby … such an unusual, angry red scar … I wondered then if there'd be some connection to his parents' murderer."

"Which, no doubt, is why you informed us of your suspicions the day he started Hogwarts, so we could all keep a watch on the boy and stop him being in needless agony."

Snape's softly-purred sarcasm petered out as an awful thought occurred to him.

"We could have eliminated The Dark Lord three years ago!"

"I'm not so sure we could …"

But Dumbledore didn't explain himself further.

"Using children as mere weapons …" Murmured Snape, "Headmaster? You once told me that I disgusted you; might I return the insult?"

Dumbledore nodded once, and spoke.

"Severus, I have no intention of noting your insubordination officially. However, I will just ask you this; do you know of any general who didn't have to employ cruelty?"

It was a truth Snape didn't wish to acknowledge. No. Child soldiers were an abhorrence. But what about his own use of Potter? Minerva had been right. However you cut it, he'd kept Potter in Slytherin to forge links with and rehabilitate his Snakes. Dumbledore took a seat near Fawkes and motioned for Snape to join him.

"Your talk with Mr Malfoy, how did it go?"

The pair talked of Lucius and Narcissa until Dumbledore rose.

"I'm afraid I must go now. Take your time leaving."

It was almost an invitation to raid the drinks cabinet, and Snape took him up on it. There amongst the cache of sarsaparilla, cream soda and raspberryade stood the triple distilled single Highland malt.

oOo

Slytherin prefects' office, 10:20pm

"But if it wasn't Potter, then who?"

Snape shrugged.

"Malfoy?" Hazarded AB.

"Not possible. I saw him in the hospital … not a hint of blue."

"Blue?"

"Ah yes, perhaps I didn't mention it. I booby-trapped the fireplace. Blue dye-seekers will have hit whoever came through the floo, one for the hands and one for the face. Of course, if someone tried to shield themselves, they might have had to settle for neck and arms … what?"

Armitage-Brown was sitting supremely po-faced.

"Sir?! Why would you do that? Your whole purpose in this endeavour was to get the fourth to pull together, specifically Malfoy and Potter. It worked; we even got Granger and Weasley to work with Malfoy."

"Are you about to give me lines, Mr Armitage-Brown? Or instruct me to bend over?"

AB blushed at having his self-righteousness mocked. It was a failing of his, and he knew it.

"In any case," Continued Snape, ""It was your role to aid and abet them; I never had any intention of pandering to them. If they were to undertake this endeavour, then they needed to be as cunning as possible. If I catch them, they take the consequences. But if I find no proof, they win."

"I take your point, but it does seem unfair."

"Does it? Good. I want it to be unfair. I want them to get used to reprehensible adults abusing their power to thwart them. There'll be a lot more of that coming; I'm certain."

That took the spark out of the conversation. They both returned to sipping tea until AB had an idea.

"Weasley! It must have been Weasley."

"No." Replied Snape, "I saw him at breakfast. Good God! Have you ever watched him eat? He rolls up his sleeves and attacks his food."

"No blue on him?" Asked AB.

Snape shook his head, tapped his finger on his cheek and pointed to AB.

"You. Felt like getting one over on your old housemaster, did you? Slipped the note back before Mayhew's party? Or maybe after?!"

AB felt the inexplicable thrill of the house square accused of dastardly deeds. Alas, the thought had never occurred to him. He pulled up his jumper and waggled his unblemished forearms at Snape in a disappointed manner. Snape huffed.

"This is starting to rattle me. I need to focus on something else. How and when did you hook Potter?"

"Almost straight away. While he snaffled the note from your shelf, we had the common room clean up. He came and joined us, and I heard the note crackle under his jumper. I sent the others off to lunch and that meant he had to try and shift the folio chest without Goyle's help. I knew he'd get hot and take off his jumper, and when he did, I was on hand to snatch it and be 'alarmed'."

"Clever move." Murmured Snape, "Though not quite as clever as mine …"

AB rather supposed it wouldn't be.

"I left Potter alone and managed to get him to prowl my shelves and pick out the one book that contained the notes. Now how do you suppose I did that?"

"Mentioned the title of the book earlier on in your chat?"

"No. Even simpler. I put the notes in the one book with a bright red dust jacket and placed that in a row of drab grey and brown books."

AB saluted him with his tea cup before asking a question of his own.

"Did you know I'd changed Alicia's birthday?"

"I did … right around the time Miss Parkinson took a tumble down the staircase. Correct?"

AB nodded. He wasn't surprised at not having fooled Snape, but it was a little disappointing all the same.

"Did you spot it straight away?"

Snape had to confess he hadn't. The penny had only dropped when he'd seen Mayhew perched high up on the steps of the owlery, like the tragic heroine of a Victorian melodrama. But even though her choice of location had been overblown, her performance had been remarkably restrained. The child had done well.

"She loved every minute of it!" Confirmed AB.

"She would." Snape said with a roll of his eyes. "Now, I'd like to know how Malfoy stuck with this plan to save Potter's hide without having his usual tantrum."

"We took the …"

Ah well, here was a conundrum for Peter Perfect; how to mention The Slytherin Oath without mentioning it? It was, after all, primarily a means of bamboozling their despotic housemaster. The obvious answer was not to mention it at all. But that prompted a whole new question; how to evade Snape when he'd asked a direct question?

"Sir? I think there've been some innovations since your time here as a student …"

"I should bloody well hope so; my time as a student was ghastly."

"Yes well, a system's been developed for ensuring everyone sticks together …"

"You mean The Slytherin Oath?" Smiled Snape smugly.

"Yes … but how?"

"Pour me another cup, and I'll give you a Slytherin history lesson."

AB added hot water to the teapot.

"Let me start with a bit of advice; if you want to lead people, never terrify them. I did once and if it weren't for Licorus Black and The Bloody Baron, I'd have brought this house to its knees …"

The year was 1982. So fiercely had the winds of change swept through the dungeons, they more properly resembled a hurricane. It had begun the first day back with Pucey's older sister, Emmeline, then a first-year. She'd gifted Snape a rude comment in front of everyone - and it had been a gift. It had allowed Snape to show his students that he was no longer the weak-willed young professor who turned a blind eye and a deaf ear for want of knowing what to do. But as he'd called her off the steps to slipper her, he saw the dread in her eyes, relented and downgraded her punishment. Not that Emmy Pucey felt it a downgrade, or the others for that matter. As she was pulled from his lap, they all thought the same thing; if wimpy Snape could dole out a hiding like that to someone on their first day, what would he do to the rest of them?

They soon found out and naturally resented him for it, but he didn't care a jot. The brats failed to realise that the common resentment had brought unity to their ranks. And though brattish, they weren't stupid enough to go looking for a trip across their housemaster's sofa arm. Behaviour was slowly amended and things began to improve. Until one day late in May when Dominic Aspinall and Gertrude Howell sent Minerva an In Memorium card on the anniversary of Dougal McGregor's death.

It wasn't simply the card. It was the inscription, a less than sincere hope that McGonagall was happy with her booby prize of Elphinstone Urquhart, and that she didn't worry too much about whether she could have saved Dougal had she married him. Late that evening, Snape was called to Dumbledore's office to face a distraught Minerva and a furious headmaster. He understood why; the card was something Christopher and Hugh Delingpole would've been proud of. Vile and cruelly clever. In one fell swoop, Aspinall and Howell had undone the progress of a year. Worse, it had been aimed at McGonagall, the one person Snape knew he had to win over if ever Slytherin House were to be accepted. Dumbledore's fury began to pale in comparison to Snape's. Then Dumbledore said the words Snape had no wish to hear; he wanted him to expel the pair.

They deserved it, but then what? They weren't the only nasty pair in the dungeons. Now the Death Eaters' reign was over, was Dumbledore ready to go against once-powerful parents and pick off his students one by one? Severus might be left with a house of compliant children, but that wasn't his aim. He wanted to save Slytherin House, not deplete its ranks. Minerva excused herself and Snape pleaded to be allowed to deal with the matter. Dumbledore finally assented.

"Oh, and Severus?" He called as Snape reached the door, "Make sure they regret their actions thoroughly …"

Snape fully intended to.

The following morning at inspection, he informed his house that two students were to be punished that evening. As they weren't named, they all fretted throughout the day. After supper, he went in search of Argus Filch. Snape hovered in the doorway as the caretaker ransacked the storeroom. Eventually, hidden amongst some old trophies and mildewed table cloths, Filch found it. But seeing the murderous look on Snape's face made even Argus Filch wary of handing over Apollyon Pringle's cane.

"A person won't need too much of this to make them sorry, Severus. It's thin but hard."

"I'm aware of that." Snapped Snape, "Your predecessor certainly put it to good use."

Even before he'd finished with Aspinall, Snape knew he didn't have the stomach for it. Yet the girl was every bit as guilty as her accomplice and he continued, delivering Howell's promised dozen as harshly as he had the boy's. Aspinall and Howell were dismissed, along with a very grateful house. The steps cleared in a heartbeat as horrified students rushed for their dorms. Snape threw down the cane and plunged into the armchair nearest the fire.

"I said before you were a useless guttersnipe, Severus Snape, but I was being too kind."

It was Licorus Black, the foul-tempered scourge of students.

"What do you care?"

"I care that I'm stuck serving a fool of a housemaster."

"Serve me more and shut up."

"Too harsh. Those students learned nothing - nothing, but to despise McGonagall more and to fear you. You deserve to feel the bite of that cane every bit as cruelly as you gave it."

"I've felt it, and I survived. They will, too."

"Licorus said that to you, sir?"

"He did and he was right, though I didn't want to hear it that night."

"Hang on; what was Licorus doing in the common room?"

"That's where his portrait hung back then, and very useful to me he was - when he was actually speaking to me. Only as the Slytherins became kinder to one another and lost their spite, poor old Licorus decided he wasn't having as much fun. He requested a move into the corridor, where he didn't have to bear witness to so much cooperation and friendship."

"When did you listen?"

"Some weeks later. Only that time, it was The Bloody Baron who came to scold me."

"Why?"

"Fear is unsustainable; it burns itself out. The Slytherins just took to better hiding their disobedience. They grew ill-tempered and began to turn on one another. All the gains we'd made as a house began to unravel. The Baron's no bleeding heart, but even he was alarmed at what was happening. He visited me one night."

"What did he say?" Asked AB.

Snape gave a rueful laugh.

"If I told you that, I would lose every last shred of authority I have. But when he'd finally finished roaring at me, he spoke to me. Together we devised The Slytherin Oath; there must be consensus for the students to break the rules, and if anyone turns on another, the Baron reports back to me."

"But what if all the students agree to something dangerous, or cruel?"

"What? All seventy of them? Then that would make me an abysmal housemaster and I'd deserve everything I got. No, Peter. There comes a point when you must trust those you have charge of. The alternative is tyranny."

The two of them contemplated that thought for a moment before Snape spoke again.

"They came good eventually, Howell and Aspinall. I hope they forgave me the beating …"

AB knew they had. A year after their caning, the Slytherin Bible came into existence. Theirs was one of the first entries. Not only was it rancour-free, the pair also claimed to have 'backsides of steel' that even Snape's cane could make little impression upon. But AB was keeping that fact to himself. Snape knew an alarmingly large amount of what went on in Slytherin; he didn't need to know about the Slytherin Bible, too.

"I'm sure they did, sir."

The warm reassurance wasn't lost on Snape. He pushed back his chair, and looked at AB's reflection in the glass doors of the bookcase. Upstanding to the point of priggishness, Armitage-Brown was no one's idea of a textbook Slytherin. Then again … Snape was certain he had his head prefect to thank for the outbreak of cloying goodness that followed the Merlin's Day Festival ban. What an operator AB was. Not only had he stopped the Snakes from committing punishable acts, he'd done it by providing such an elegant solution. It'd driven Snape to distraction but left him unable to slipper anyone. The boy had such promise. Tall and agile, he could have been a natural auror. His gentle but cunning mind would have eased him into high office in the Ministry, and his ability in potions should have opened up a slew of opportunities. Could have, would have and should have … what dismal words … But for a single afternoon's high spirits with Urquhart, that glittering future would have belonged to Armitage-Brown. Yet the day of 'The Great Chase', two years ago now, Armitage-Brown had seen too much.

It was around '83 that Snape began to ruminate on his position. Two years prior had been his nadir. Had a Death Eater pointed a wand to his throat, he might well have heaved a sigh of relief and told him to get on with it. But life improved; he was grudgingly accepted by most his colleagues; the Slytherins mellowed and he even grew to like them. All of a sudden, his ambivalence towards death disappeared. No use bleating about it, he had to act. And act he did. He lived like a pauper, saved his salary, searched for a suitable location - and two years later bought Loghalsh station. With painstaking research and frustrating setbacks aplenty, he eventually succeeded in making Loghalsh unplottable.

Back then he had no clear plan; all he had was a safe, if decrepit, haven. The first time his bolthole was put to use was in '86. Adrian Pucey's older brother Charlie, finally despairing of life with his evil father, had met with Snape one night in The Hog's Head and thrown himself on his mercy. Rumours were spread that Charlie had fled to the continent, and he became the first resident of Loghalsh, joined two years later by his sister, Emmy. They spent most of their time collecting and cultivating rare herbs for Snape. Snape visited regularly to collect his herbs and occasionally take them to meet Adrian on neutral territory. Polly went there to escape her brutish husband. After he disappeared, she returned to Hogsmeade but still visited. It wasn't until the youngest Weasley was taken in April 1993 that it dawned on Snape what an asset he had.

He could turn older students from their Death Eater parents, but what of the lower years? Should The Dark Lord return, they'd be powerless to take a stand. And if Ginny Weasley could mysteriously disappear, why not others? Severus flew to feverish plotting, noting the names of Death Eater families; who'd wavered in their commitment; the ages of siblings and credible ways to 'disappear' a child. The scribbled plans were added to each night until Armitage-Brown, in a rare moment of mischief, plucked them from his shelf.

Did Severus feel guilty at drawing Armitage-Brown into the plan? Possibly so, but what choice did he have? He could have obliviated the memory, but that was a risky manoeuvre, and in any case, Severus knew he'd need help. So, no. No auror program for the very able Mister Peter Armitage-Brown. Instead, a teaching role in a decommissioned railway station a million miles from anywhere. The poor bastard.

"What did Potter make of the note he stole?" Snape asked.

"Not a lot. To be honest, sir, I'm not sure he even read it properly."

"Potter!" Spat Snape, "The one bloody student that can make Goyle look like a bookworm."

Snape started chasing a thought around his head, but didn't seem able to catch it. Maybe …

"How soon did Miss Granger join in with this caper?"

"The same afternoon, sir."

"I wonder … the meeting you had with Potter when you told him about 'The Great Chase'; it wouldn't have been in the ruined belfry by any chance?"

"Merlin, sir! How do you know that?"

"Oh, I'm very good."

And yet you so seldom mention it, thought AB.

"Where you alone, do you suppose?"

AB pictured the belfry's hexagonal upper chamber. No cupboards, simply piles of church kneelers and hessian sacks. Big piles. Fourteen-year-old Gryffindor-sized piles. He looked to Snape and smiled.

"She was there." Stated Snape, "I'm certain of it. Weasley is the kind of buffoon who'd jump in feet first to 'help a mate', but Miss Granger? No. She'd need a better reason to go breaking rules."

Snape looked hugely pleased with himself as he lounged back in his chair.

"So, Mister Armitage-Brown, here is the state of play. The fourth-year …"

"And Alicia." Added AB.

"Quite. The fourth-year and Alicia have done us proud. Potter and Malfoy's relationship has been cemented, not that it will ever be perfect. Miss Granger has once again stuck her beak into other people's business. If she's not yet aware of our plan, she soon will be. And you, Mister Armitage-Brown, have been not displeasing. You handled Miss Bulstrode's thirst for revenge very capably; no mean feat and I salute you. It's down to you that Miss Pinkerton was able scare Malfoy and his parents. A cruel thing, but it will ultimately serve them well."

AB swelled with pride.

"What happens next term, sir?"

"Next term? I have a matter to take care of, and a situation to watch. I shall trust the fourth to do whatever they have to do - within reason. And you, Mister Armitage-Brown, will get top marks on all your NEWT exams. The Snape Academy for Sad Souls demands a headmaster of the highest calibre."

"Headmaster?!"

"Headmaster, sole master, chief, cook and bottle washer - take your pick."