Chapter Thirteen

Harry at Hogwarts

Twelve years at Hogwarts. Twelve was not a large number, but it might as well have been a hundred as far as Severus was concerned. In twelve years, Harry would be thirteen—in his third year. At that point, it only made sense for Severus to stick around for another five or so years, until Harry had graduated and safely reached adulthood, so he could make sure his one shot at salvation made sense.

Though he abhorred teaching potions to the younger set, he still thought about ways to refine his teaching techniques. (Aziz helped, of course, though the djinn was also well outside his comfort zone.) Teaching was only tolerable at the N.E.W.T. levels—Dumbledore had given him the freedom to only take those who'd received "Outstanding" scores on their O.W.L.s, so he didn't have to deal with dunderheads.

He brewed in his spare time, of course. Creating the standard healing potions for Madam Pomfrey was no problem at all, especially those he'd been brewing since his childhood. But he also spent time trying to develop new versions of old potions in which the rare or expensive ingredients were replaced by more common ones. No one should have to choose between health and financial solvency.

Many of his ideas came from his correspondence with his old master, Elmore Greengrass. During the summer he had time to go to Elmore's house and debate changes in person—a pastime they both enjoyed. In the summer of 1982, Elmore's daughter, Daphne, was a sturdy toddler who'd obviously recovered from her premature birth, and his wife, Aurelia, was expecting again. Severus's chats with Elmore were often interrupted as he ran to fetch and carry for Aurelia, as she was confined to bed. Severus often sat with Daphne on his lap and doodled pictures of potions ingredients as he talked with her father.

In August, Aurelia went into labor two months early at the most inconvenient time—both her parents and Elmore's were out of the country. (Ironically, they were trying to get in some much-needed vacation time before their second granddaughter made her appearance.) Severus, who had been planning to pop into the Greengrass home that afternoon anyway, volunteered to watch Daphne. He also contacted Aurelia's great-uncle Reginald (an older wizard who, like Elmore, had married late and had a young son). Reginald stayed at his own place to watch his son, Theo, but sent over his wife, Florence, to help coach Aurelia through her labor. Next, Severus contacted Lucretia; she came over as soon as her shift at St. Mungo's was done so they could tag-team care of Daphne.

Early the following morning, Severus and Lucretia brought Daphne to St. Mungo's. Lucretia had to go to work, so Severus was the one who took the little girl to the maternity ward.

"Come, Daphne. Let's go see your sister," Elmore said. But then a Healer rushed in, saying, "There are some complications with your wife, Master Greengrass—you'd better go to her."

"Watch Daphne, please, Severus?" begged the older wizard.

"I'll send someone in for you—you can take her to see her sister," the Healer yelled over her shoulder as she dashed out of the room.

And so it was Severus who carefully picked a little girl—barely four pounds—out of the bassinet in the infant ward. "This is Astoria," he told Daphne as he showed her how to hold her. "Your little sister."

~~SS~~

The years passed.

A new class of dunderheads arrived promptly in Severus's classroom each September first.

Both Aurelia and Astoria recovered somewhat from the trauma of early birth, though Aurelia always tired easily thereafter and Astoria suffered from "failure to thrive." Reginald Nott was Astoria's official godfather but Severus was her unofficial one and spent a large portion of his summers at the Greengrass estate.

Elmore and Severus created a potion to stop premature labor. They also created a nutritive potion that helped Astoria finally catch up with the normal growth curve.

Albus Dumbledore insisted that everyone stay away from Harry Potter and Severus, bound by the Unbreakable Vow, agreed.

Severus's Uncle Tiberius married an Italian Muggle in 1987 and moved her into Prince Hall. They had three sons in quick succession, in February 1988, August 1989, and January 1991.

~~SS~~

In June of 1991, Lucius Malfoy invited Severus to his home for dinner. Reginald Nott was there along with a few other former Death Eaters. When Severus arrived, Lucius skipped the normal handshake and pulled up his left sleeve. "I thought so! Look, his mark is darker too."

Severus hadn't looked at his Dark Mark for years. It had only been a faint shadow for most of that time, barely visible. But he looked now, and it was indeed marginally darker.

"A new Dark Lord is rising," Reginald said.

"Why would a new Dark Lord be linked to our marks?" Severus inquired curtly.

"It is said that when the Dark Lord's curse rebounded off of Harry Potter, some of his power transferred to the boy," purred Lucius softly.

"Harry Potter is eleven," Severus growled. "No, almost eleven. He's living with Muggles and has very little magical power yet."

"You're at Hogwarts," Lucius said. "You must keep an eye on him. Let me know."

"He's a boy. I will not."

"You just hate him because of what his father did to you," Narcissa interjected.

"And what if I do?" snarled Severus.

"Never mind," Lucius shrugged. "I'll get Draco to befriend him when they start in the fall."

Severus scowled again. Harry was not, could not, be a Dark Lord. "The Potter boy will be nothing but trouble for us. Mark my words."

He would do whatever it took to make Lucius believe that. He couldn't let Lucius get his hands (or influence) on the child.

~~SS~~

September 1, 1991, finally arrived. At last Severus would be able to keep an eye on Harry Potter. Perhaps he would even be able to shape him into the sort of man who could take down Voldemort.

Hagrid walked in with the first years. It was immediately obvious which one was Harry: he looked very much like his father had at that age, except for his eyes, which he'd quite obviously inherited from Lily. Severus was pleased to see that the boy was standing with another boy who was clearly a Weasley, while Draco scowled at him from afar. Lucius wasn't going to influence the boy after all. Daphne walked in at the end of the line and winked at Severus. He raised his hand slightly in a subtle salute.

Daphne and Draco were sorted into Slytherin. Harry was sorted into Gryffindor—of course. Severus sighed. Well, at least it would be easier to keep him from Draco that way.

Severus listened to Albus's inane welcoming speech, then served himself a pork chop and some Yorkshire pudding. The latter wasn't quite as good as his mum's, but it still reminded him of her. (She was still in Italy; her brewing contracts made her good money.) As he cut up his pork chop, he glanced in the direction of the Gryffindor table—and saw Harry stuffing his face. Stuffing his face the way that Severus did when he first got to Hogwarts, because he was so used to being hungry.

Damn.

The Weasley boy was going to town on the food too, but he seemed to be in love with the variety as much as the quantity. Whereas Harry—Harry was wrapping a roll in a napkin and stuffing it in a pocket, as though he wasn't sure when he'd eat again.

Severus glanced over the rest of the room, trying not to stare too hard at Harry. But eventually—as the desserts appeared—he glanced back that way again. This time, Harry was looking his way, and the boy was most definitely not a natural Occlumens. Severus looked in his eyes and saw immediately how clever Petunia had been. She hadn't figured out that his spell was a fake. Neither she, nor her oaf of a husband, had ever actually laid hands on Potter: they'd gotten their son to beat him up instead. The memory at the front of Harry's mind was of his uncle telling his cousin to poke him with a Smelting stick, whatever that was. Petunia and Vernon had housed Harry, as they'd felt compelled to—in a cupboard under the stairs. They'd fed him on leftover scrapings. They'd treated him as horribly as possible while still sticking to the agreement they'd made with Severus.

Severus was enraged. He struggled to get his feelings under control, but it was too late. Harry had seen the look on his face. Harry thought Severus hated him. Harry clearly did not remember playing blocks with his "Unca Sevus."

Well, if Voldemort was coming back soon—and his Dark Mark indicated that was likely the case—then he'd be forced into spying again, and it probably would be best if everyone (Harry, Voldemort, and Albus included) thought that was the case.

And so he set out to be as mean as possible to Harry during his first potions lesson. It was remarkably easy—the boy expected everyone to be mean to him and reacted accordingly. Unfortunately, it meant alienating the one student who Severus suspected would eventually be a pleasure to teach in N.E.W.T. potions, a Gryffindor named Hermione Granger. Although she acted like an insufferable know-it-all, what he could see of her mind (she had a modest talent towards Occlumency, even when she wasn't trying) was well-disciplined.

~~SS~~

Of course, Snape couldn't only think about Harry Potter that year. Dumbledore knew that Voldemort was back in some form and he suspected that the Dark Lord was trying to get a hold of Nicholas Flamel's Philosopher's Stone. Over the summer, Severus had helped with the protections for the Stone by creating a logic puzzle as well as a series of potions. He was quite pleased with the result, but he worried about whether it would hold back Voldemort. The Dark Lord's ability to use logic was unpredictable—sometimes he was incredibly brilliant and focused, and other times he was completely ruled by emotion. Well, Severus had done his part and there wasn't much else he could do.

Or so he thought until he realized that Quirrell of all people—the shrinking, newly-hired Defense Against the Dark Arts professor—was trying to get to the Stone. And that was unthinkable, because Quirrell had never been a Death Eater as far as Severus knew. What was going on with that?

He tossed this problem to Aziz one night as he brewed Pepper-Up for the infirmary. "I just don't get it. If Voldemort was going to use someone as a tool, wouldn't he pick someone like Lucius?"

"Not necessarily," Aziz said. "Remember, he's minus a body right now. If he somehow managed a resurrection, he'd have summoned all of you. That means he's probably possessing someone."

"But Quirrell?"

"Weak-minded people are easier to possess," said Aziz with a shrug. "I'll see what I can observe about the fellow."

So Severus tried to focus on teaching while Aziz spent most of the next few days invisible, following Quirrell around.

"Yup! He's possessed," the djinn reported a week later. "He finally took that turban off to shower, and he's got Voldemort's face on the back of his head."

"You've got to be kidding me!" growled Severus angrily. "So why hasn't he gotten to the Stone yet?"

"Weak-minded people are easy to possess but they're still not very bright," commented Aziz.

~~SS~~

On Halloween, when Quirrell said there was a troll in the dungeons, Severus did not believe his fainting act. This was a diversion; he was sure of it. Dumbledore wanted him to conduct his students to Slytherin House, but he put the prefects in charge and slunk quietly off towards the third floor. He'd guard that trapdoor in person if that's what was necessary.

Of course, he hadn't realized that Dumbledore had added protection (Hagrid's suggestion, no doubt) to the third-floor corridor where the trapdoor was housed. The giant, three-headed dog—no doubt a descendant of Cerberus—glared angrily at him.

"I'm here to help guard," he told it, but it didn't believe him. He barely escaped with both legs intact.

~~SS~~

Of course, Severus couldn't tell Albus what he'd done. Albus had only implied that it was a good idea for the professors to stay out of that corridor; he hadn't commanded them to do so. But Severus suspected the headmaster would be very, very unhappy with him nonetheless. So he didn't tell Albus, nor did he tell Poppy Pomfrey (who would be sure to report the incident to Albus).

Dittany didn't work on the wounds, nor did any of the standard healing potions. Aziz had no easy answers—he'd never dealt with a cerberus before—but he promised to consult with the Djinni Collective. Naturally, this would take a few days. In the mean time, Severus enlisted the help of Argus Filch—who was annoyed at Albus because he really hated the idea of any part of "his" castle being off-limits to him—to bind the wounds.

Of course, while they were doing that, Harry Potter just had to poke his head through the door. Damn Harry! He really was an annoying little swot.

~~SS~~

But of course, no matter how annoying Potter was, Severus had good reason to keep him alive. And a couple of days later, it became clear someone definitely wanted the boy dead. During the Slytherin vs. Gryffindor match, Harry's broom bucked out of control, threatening to toss him to the ground. To the boy's credit, he managed to stay in the air, though just barely.

Severus spotted Quirrell muttering under his breath—clearly, jinxing the broom. It wasn't a spell Severus was familiar with, but he thought up a counter-curse and began muttering that under his breath. (He would have loved to be less obvious, but it was hard to do a spell non-verbally if you just made it up.) It was only sort of effective though: the broom's behavior was not getting better, but at least it was no longer getting worse. After a minute or two he heard Aziz whisper a slight adjustment to his counter-curse into his ear; this was much more effective and Harry (who'd been hanging from his broom by one hand at that point) was able to grab hold of the broom and swing one leg over the handle.

Severus felt a sudden burst of heat and pain and realized he was on fire. He almost dropped his wand in amazement but managed to hold on to it. He turned to put the fire out and—and it was gone. What the hell?

He turned and looked back up in the sky. Harry was gone. No, wait: Harry was swooping towards the ground. Now Potter was holding up the Snitch: Gryffindor had won for the first time in years. Damn that boy.

The only good thing about the day was that Aziz returned with a charm that would remove the curse on Severus's wounds. Once it was cast, dittany worked well to staunch the bleeding.

~~SS~~

The weeks passed and Quirrell had not made another move, either to claim the Stone or to eliminate Potter. Still, the man was not creative. Severus had no doubt that he'd try to kill him the exact same way.

Severus signed up to referee the next Quidditch match, hoping that it would give him an edge on protecting Potter. It was true that he wasn't very good on a broom—Aziz hadn't been able to help him there, as most of the djinn's mortal flying experience had been on a flying carpet—but he wasn't horrible, either. And he didn't need to actually play Quidditch, just watch it closely.

As it turned out, his help wasn't necessary. Dumbledore was on hand as well—no doubt having researched, as Snape had, a proper counter-curse for the jinx Quirrell had used last time. Plus, Potter caught the Snitch in under three minutes, not long enough for Quirrell to do anything.

Severus saw the scowl on Quirrell's face and cornered him as the other professor left the stadium. "I know what you're up to, Quirrell. Talk with me in the forest in ten minutes."

Quirrell shrugged. "Don't see why I should."

Severus pointed his wand at him. "Do you know my reputation for dueling?"

Quirrell gulped audibly. "Yes, sir."

Severus ran back into the castle, snatched Aziz's lamp from his desk drawer (he'd been afraid to wear the necklace while flying), and stalked into the forest.

"I d-d-don't know why you w-wanted to meet h-here, of all places, S-Severus," the little professor stammered.

"Oh, I thought we'd keep this private," Severus replied coolly. "Students aren't supposed to know about the Philosopher's Stone, after all."

"I…what do I have to do with that?" Quirrell mumbled.

Snape whispered: "You? Or Voldemort?"

Quirrell's face blanched.

"Have you found out how to get past that beast of Hagrid's yet?"

"B-b-but Severus, I—"

Voldemort on his head or no, Quirrell was easily intimidated. Severus struck his most menacing pose and said, "You don't want me as your enemy."

"I-I don't know what you—"

"You know perfectly well what I mean. You think you'll get the Stone for our master, but you're wrong. I am the one the Dark Lord trusts implicitly. I am the one who will get it for him. You can try to figure all of the protections, but only I have the power to get through them. If you want our master to succeed, report everything you find to me. Go on, do your little bit of hocus-pocus. I'm waiting."

"B-but I d-d-don't—"

"Very well," Severus interrupted. "We'll have another little chat soon, when you've had time to think about where your loyalties lie." And he threw his hood over his head and stalked off before Quirrell could reply.

~~SS~~

"I think Voldemort is possessing Quirrell," he told Albus later that night.

"Yes, I'm pretty sure he is," Albus replied. "But how?"

"No clue. More importantly, what are you going to do about it?"

"Oh, don't worry, I have a plan," said Albus airily, as he ushered Severus out of his office.

~~SS~~

Unfortunately, Dumbledore's plan turned out to be having Harry battle the possessed Quirrell. It was only through sheer luck (and, Severus suspected, due to the coaching and protection of Hermione Granger) that Harry survived that encounter.

When Severus found out, he was furious. "How dare you risk our only chance of salvation?"

Dumbledore shrugged. "He's protected, remember?"

Severus scowled; the old codger had a point. The original seven years of the spell had passed, and they were three years into the nine that Dumbledore's protection allotted.

"That doesn't mean that you should play fast and loose with his life," he snarled.

"When he finally faces off with Voldemort in a real duel," Albus said, "He must know everything there is to know about fighting him. And I'm going to make sure he learns all that while he's still protected."

"That's madness," Severus whispered, although there was a certain unescapable logic about it.

"Maybe so, but it's better than any alternative that I can come up with," replied the headmaster. "How's your Dark Mark doing?"

Severus pulled his left sleeve up, showing a forearm that only bore faint traces of the cursed mark. "Back to where it was."

"Then we—and Harry—are safe for now," said Dumbledore softly. He reached into his desk drawer and pulled out a tin of sweets. "Sherbet lemon, Severus?"

~~SS~~

Thus ends Harry's first year of Hogwarts. All in all, it wasn't too hard on Severus. Let's see how he handles the appearance of a Horcrux in the next chapter!