The Hexagon and The Spiral

Fireworks, launched from the top of the Clock Tower, were shooting skyward as Servius and Amelie stumbled free from the shadows of the Forbidden Forest. Behind them, still within the cover of the trees, the small, shimmery glow of the Will o' the wisp blinked out, and the way forward for the pair was now lit beneath the glare of multicoloured explosions. Slowly and silently they mounted the hill towards the main door. They were scratched, bruised, exhausted and filthy, Amelie's glasses were broken and Servius was down to a single shoe. But they carried their wands, and they were smiling with pride.

They limped up the steps of the courtyard and Servius was about to push open the door when he suddenly remembered. "We should get back in through the secret tunnel, the one that goes to the dungeons," he said. "Won't be seen."

Amelie listened to him and her shoulders slumped a little, but she nodded. Their plan was to sneak inside, clean up and then join the others for the planned New Year's Eve celebrations, which, along with the resident students and teachers, had been extended to include families, elves and many Hogsmeade residents. Since this appeared to have already started, they'd agreed to stick to a story that in the excitement of the early fireworks they'd lost track of time and missed dinner accidentally, but had otherwise been in the castle since around seven pm keeping themselves amused. It was a long shot, they knew it, but they'd been too tired and scared to concentrate on anything other than getting out of the Forest in one piece.

Just as they turned to head back down the steps, the front door swung open wide and a hand came down hard on Servius' shoulder. "Too late," said a deep voice, rich with reprehension. "I'm afraid you're nicked."

The deserted Slytherin Common Room had been rearranged into a mini courtroom, with Servius and Amelie taking defendant's chairs side by side, and before them, behind tables arranged in a semi-circle, sat Professors Snape, Slughorn and Hellmann. The Hogwarts Dossiers belonging to Servius and Amelie were on Snape's table but otherwise the room was empty of jury, witnesses or evidence. The fireplace, however, was lively with a large, crackling fire, it being the only sound as Servius and Amelie waited for the interrogation to commence.

"Is this going to take long?" was the first question, from Slughorn to his peers. "It just that I have guests in the Hall -,"

Snape scowled at him and tapped his quill impatiently. "It could be done very quickly with some Veritaserum, but perhaps an opportunity for them to tell the truth first will mitigate the inevitable forfeit of House points." He turned dark eyes on the two students, flicking from one to the other, then said, "Let us proceed. Servius, I already know you used Steleus." He placed his hand on the Dossier. "It's a hex, you broke your Warlock's Oath again. Professor Hellmann, does this effect an eviction from Duelling?"

"Ja," replied Hellmann, nodding sagely. "That is too many times now. Unless your wand was used in self-defence or to save another."

Servius was quiet but his gaze was to the floor. What would happen to the blood-bond if he had to rescind his Warlock's Oath?

"Did you, Servius?" asked Snape. "Who did you hex? Was it in self-defence? Did you save Amelie from someone or something?"

Servius didn't speak, but his heart was pounding and it made his shoulders heave a little. Amelie remained quiet.

"Who did Servius hex, Amelie?" asked Hellmann. "Antworte mir. Why were you in the Forbidden Forest? You have broken a Primary Rule of Hogwarts, it was reported via your Hog Doss to Professor Slughorn. There is no point pretending. You must tell us the truth or it will be reported to the Headmistress."

"They broke curfew as well," added Slughorn matter-of-factly. "Missed dinner."

When there was no reply after a few minutes, Snape said, "Professor Slughorn: please, how many points off Slytherin will this cost?"

"Oh, uh, based on the number of violations…um, times two…. I would say it couldn't be under a hundred points."

Servius groaned. Everything the Slytherins had scraped back to get them to third place.

"I'm sure," murmured Snape, examining the tabletop, "since we're all Slytherins here, that the number could be ameliorated with some confessions, some admissions of truth, particularly if there were good cause, don't you think?"

"We only have the facts we have as evidence," said Slughorn. "If there were mitigating factors then that would most certainly help."

Snape lifted his eyes back to Servius and raised a brow. "So I ask again. Where were you, what were you doing and why?"

Servius swallowed hard. If they told the truth, they could not return. There had been a moth. The moth had guided them but to only part of the puzzle. It fluttered through the dusky light to the daunting stone monument with its awesome and intimidating carvings, its lichen-coated engravings of terrible, chimerical creatures; its dark and cavernous entryway that seemed to exhale chilling air. They had followed, and the moth had landed on the winding snake, barely visible beneath its botanical shroud, on where the eye of the snake would be above the arch, and as he and Amelie had climbed the crumbling joints of stone to investigate, a vibrating, echoey moan had issued from its inky depths.

He shut his mouth hard, and he dared not look at Amelie, but she too made no sound.

A hard scraping of chair on stone made them both jump. It was Hellmann, and he stood very straight, a fierce glint to his eye. "Amelie. Come here and give me your wand."

She was very still and for a second Servius thought she might refuse, but then she rose, meekly, and made her way to the table where her father waited, and he watched as she placed down her wand before him.

Hellmann picked up the wand and held it in front of him in his left hand, while with his right he retrieved his own wand from inside his wool jacket. "I am going to find out what this wand has been doing. Do you agree, Professor Snape?"

"By all means," Snape said with a single nod.

Hellmann placed his wand tip to Amelie's and said clearly: "Prior Incantato." Servius heard Amelie gasp and she hurried back to her chair next to him where she sat, knees together, tightly gripping her seat.

From Amelie's wand came an echo of the last spells she'd performed in a backward sequence. In the space between the wands, it was possible to see indistinct images, the first being the Reparo she'd used to fix her glasses, after that her wand lit with a Lumos, cast as they ran for Hogwarts. Prior to that was the summoning of the Will o' the wisp, and the next image was of the tomb's stone engraving of the snake eating its own tail as it received a strike of bright green magic, and it then began its strange slithery, rippling movement like a continuous, flowing figure eight. Hellmann and Slughorn watched and were simply confused, but Snape was dumbfounded, his mouth parting, his frown even deeper. And then he stared straight at Servius, and his eyes seemed to search his, questioning him.

"Which spell, Amelie?" asked Hellmann, "for this one? Did you enchant this engraving, or reveal it?"

Amelie sighed, then said quietly, "Specialis Revelio."

Her wand then emitted a flame of fire as her Incendio was recounted, and Hellmann impatiently uttered "Deletrius," and her wand lay still.

"So you are telling me that you found that stone serpent in the Forbidden Forest and when you asked it to reveal its magic, it did that?"

"Ja."

Hellmann sat once more and turned to Snape, who quickly reframed his features to appear neutral. "I see," said Snape. "And in what territory of the Forest was this discovered? I do hope it wasn't Centaur."

He watched the pair closely as there was a tell-tale response of silence, then Amelie said, "Nein. Not in Centaur…it was…it was -,"

"Sort of near the lake," said Servius quickly, and Snape's eyes seared into him.

"Don't lie to me," he said with a smooth, terrifying slowness. "Do you think I can't tell when a boy is lying?"

There was a moment of stricken silence, then Hellmann said to Snape: "Do you suppose that serpent may belong to the Centaurs? It is of significance in their culture I believe."

"Indeed," said Snape, but he had become stiff in his chair, brisk in his movements as he gathered the Dossiers. "I've heard enough. They are uncooperative. Professor Slughorn, please, your ruling?"

Slughorn had evidently become absorbed enough that he'd momentarily forgotten his role as Head of House. He gathered himself together and stated: "I am sorry to say that I don't believe any mitigation has been offered. One hundred points off Slytherin."

Servius cried, "No! Not a hundred!" and Snape closed his eyes.

Slughorn looked to Hellmann. "And am I correct in understanding that Master Snape is banned from duelling?"

Servius glanced, horrified, from Slughorn to Hellmann.

"Ja, I am sorry but it is only fair. Your Oath must be rescinded."

Snape's jaw ticked.

"Miss Hellmann, I think your wand must be confiscated for three days," said Slughorn. Amelie nodded solemnly. "And detention, both of you, every evening for a week. I do that for your own protection, as the Slytherins have their House Meeting on Monday and they will learn of the House Point deduction."

In spite of himself, Servius felt hot anguish mount in his chest.

"Professor Snape?" asked Slughorn. "Anything further?"

Snape raised his eyes gradually and they were glassy with disappointment. His words were labored. "Yes. I have a final ruling." He glanced from Servius to Amelie and back again. "You two will be separated -,"

"No!" The pair both jumped to their feet, aghast.

Snape raised his voice. "You will not be permitted to work or play together…"

"I agree...," murmured Hellmann.

"No way!"

"You have some inexplicable pact to get in trouble and your friendship is unprofitable. Even by Slytherin standards your conduct is beyond the pale. You are failing on every expectation and by every standard."

"You can't stop us being friends!" yelled Servius, and he grasped Amelie's hand. She squeezed it tightly.

Snape's gaze rested on the joined hands for a moment and he seemed to have the wind knocked out of him. When he looked at Servius again, his voice had dropped in pitch and he shook his head. "Control yourself, Servius. Your emotions -,"

"Calm down," said Slughorn.

"NO!" The magic in the blood bond rushed through the whole of Servius' being, through his veins like a volcano searching frantically for a place to erupt. He turned and gave his chair a powerful kick, then jerking Amelie's hand next to him he pulled her behind as he stormed for the door of the Common Room. "Fuck you!" he shouted. "Take all the points you want! You can't keep Amelie and me -,"

"If you are expelled, you will never see her again!" thundered Snape, rising fast so that his chair fell over, and Hellmann also rose.

"Amelie! You are grounded!" he barked, accent suddenly coming thick. "Your mother is upstairs in ze Hall; Geh jetzt zu ihr. As from midnight, you are home jeden Abend and ze veekends."

But Amelie turned to Servius, her eyes wide and frantic. "Servius, don't let them -,"

Servius shouted the password and the Common Room door opened to let them through. The pair ran out into the dimly lit dungeon corridor and still holding Amelie's hand, Servius ran towards the stairs. "We'll go to the abandoned house," he said over his shoulder. "Then we'll figure out what to do."

But they never made it. With one foot on the stair, Servius heard a shout behind them and then his world went blank.

On the first day of two thousand and seven, Snape made his way through the castle to visit his son in the hospital wing. The same and only son that he'd put there, who had been Stupefied by him and then hit his head hard on the stone steps on his way to the ground. The same and only son that, in his unconscious state, had poured blood from his nose and mouth over his father's robe, who couldn't be roused even after he'd been counter-charmed, who was left, cradled in his father's arms, still and bleeding, as Slughorn hurried to find help and Hellmann had dragged away a shrieking Amelie.

The castle was quiet after the revelry of Hogmanay. Elves were about, cleaning, cooking, but Snape encountered no students or teachers as he took the moving staircase and strode along the corridor to the hospital door. It was nine am, still early, he supposed, but he himself hadn't slept all night and yet could lie in bed no longer.

Madam Pomfrey had come to his aid the night before. She'd been at the party and had been dressed for the occasion, tottering precariously in her heels as she'd hastened down the dungeon stairs to Snape and Servius. "I can't wake him!" Snape had said to her, hearing the fear in his own voice, and her eyes had widened when she looked at him. Theirs had been a long, productive association of mutual respect and support; Snape knew that his own helplessness had dismayed her. Not even with Charity had he lost his nerve. Pomfrey was stoic as she turned her attention to Servius in his arms.

She'll be here now, he thought, as he pushed open the door of the empty wing. But it wasn't Pomfrey at the bedside of Servius, drawing back the privacy curtain with one hand and holding a tray of medical tools in the other.

It was Diaphne.

She paused at the sight of him, unsmiling, and he returned the cool stare, then went directly to Servius. "How is he?"

The boy was awake, just. His eyelids fluttered, and he opened them enough to register Snape and then turned his head away on the pillow.

"Professor - please don't disturb him," Diaphne said, standing rather sternly at the end of the bed. "I think you've done enough."

Her statement roused sufficient ire in him to eclipse even his anxiety. He flashed at her. "You – you haven't any idea -,"

"I know what happened."

"Your opinion isn't requested."

She hesitated, seemed to draw strength then said, "I'm asking you to leave the patient alone."

"No."

"Sir! Please, you must respect -,"

"He's my son."

Servius emitted a low groan.

"I will have to call the Headmistress -,"

The door opened then, and Longbottom walked in, holding a bouquet of hothouse flowers. He stopped at the sight of Snape and Diaphne, who both turned on the spot to face him, and his face darkened.

"What's this?" he demanded.

"Neville -," began Diaphne, hurrying towards him. "I have a patient -,"

"What? Snape?" said Longbottom, eyeing him up and down. "Looks about the same. Or are you hoping for an injury? I can assist."

"Get out, Longbottom," said Snape.

"No, not the Professor," said Diaphne. "A…student."

Longbottom dragged his eyes from Snape to Diaphne, took her into an embrace and then kissed her thoroughly at which Snape rolled his eyes and turned to Servius.

"For you! Happy New Year, my darling," Longbottom said, and Snape presumed the flowers were then gifted. "I'm sorry I couldn't be there last night."

Snape's ears pricked. "Where were you Longbottom?" he asked, without turning. "Wishing the Centaurs happy new year?"

There was complete silence. When Snape turned again, Longbottom scowled at him. "No idea what you're talking about. Who's the patient? Did some poor student come across you in a darkened corridor, Snape?"

"Changing the subject?"

"Shh," said Diaphne. "That's –,"

"Snape junior? Well, well. Only a matter of time, wasn't it?"

Snape's wand slipped into his hand and breathless with fury he flew across the floor in two steps and raised it to Longbottom's head. "Get out!"

Longbottom remained where he was and lowered his lids. "I think that's one wild and random threat too many for a senior staff member, don't you? It's time Minerva understood who's supposed to be representing her. Who she leaves in charge in her absence. I imagine Dumbledore will be interested as well."

"Leave the Headmistress out of this. You know this is between us."

"Diaphne," said Longbottom, not taking his eyes from Snape, "Did I overhear you trying to persuade the Professor to leave when I came in?"

"Um…yes, actually," she said, eyes down.

"And how, pray, did the Snape offspring come to be in hospital? He doesn't look at all well."

"Get out Longbottom, my last warning!"

"Changing the subject?" sneered Longbottom, and then feigned sorrow. "Can't be good. Well I'm sure Minerva will want to know all about a student in grave health, especially…why."

Snape's hand trembled in efforts to not hex him, the words were on the tip of his tongue. Longbottom smiled. "Perhaps a potion would help. You do…remember…how to make a potion, Severus? Seems so long since you've actually done anything around the place. Or is it just no fun anymore when you can't be a bully?"

"You -!" growled Snape and lunged at him but Longbottom stepped back, palms up.

"I think it's you who should be getting out, Snape," said Longbottom between gritted teeth.

"This isn't over," said Snape, glowering. "When you've finally worked up the courage to come out from behind women's skirts, come and see me." And he stormed out of the hospital, his robe flapping behind him.

It was a week before Servius was released by Pomfrey to join the other students who had arrived back at Hogwarts for term, and with the castle once more filled with children and teachers and timetables and Quidditch strategies, it was impossible to avoid getting swept up in the flood of pragmatic routine. All parties returned to their corners, and the corners were now so many with Sinistra and Amelie joining play, that the battleground had assumed a hexagonal shape, but they watched each other from afar – be they loved or loathed, the eye refused to let them remain from sight for long.

At breakfast one Wednesday, as Snape moodily opened his mail, McGonagall raised a brow at him over her teacup and said, "Good news, Severus?"

"No news is good news, Ma'am."

"That is well. It would seem you're overdue some."

He glanced at her quizzically, and she clinked her cup onto her saucer, a sure sign that she was about to speak in earnest.

"Now is as good a time as any. Sit closer, I mean to speak confidentially. I am receiving the most disturbing reports. And I regret I have not received one of them from those directly involved. Severus, I thought I made myself abundantly clear to you when I asked for your confidence. Have I not been open in my trust and confidence in you by appointing you as Deputy and nominating you as Head on my retirement? Your conduct is reflecting badly on my judgment. Have I erred? Please tell me I haven't."

Snape was at first startled and concealed this by becoming very stiff in his seat and keeping his eyes fixed on the student body, then he cleared his throat and said quietly, "I can assure you, your decision in appointing me Deputy was perfectly sound. You have no reason to question my loyalty or honesty."

"But I am looking now at your son and I see a laddie who is clearly suffering. Madam Cropper filed her report and according to her he was uncooperative through all three sessions, that she learnt nothing, that she is unable to help him. It is unheard of, Severus. He seems to me, forgive me but, damaged. The most recent report from Horace is that he and Benedict's daughter have cost Slytherin a hundred House points. A hundred, Severus? Why wasn't I told about it? Of course, I am going to need a full account from you about what occurred -,"

"Ma'am -,"

"I'm speaking. Permit me to continue. Madam – what is her name? In the Hospital – told me that Servius has spent several days there with a serious concussion and that he is still under treatment for it because she can't rule out brain injury. That the injury was sustained as a result of falling on the stone steps of the dungeon, but that wasn't his only wound. He was covered in bruises and scrapes and swellings and, she believed, some kind of psychological trauma. Even if he wasn't your bairn, I would – I am – appalled that this has befallen a first-year student of Hogwarts. A person doesn't skelp the stairs like that from a simple misstep, Severus. And when I questioned what's-her-name about it, she was hesitant to disagree. Her impression is that Servius fell far harder. I can't help but wonder how."

Snape swallowed. "Ma'am -,"

"But I'm not finished. I am then placed in the deeply embarrassing position of having to defend you in front of Neville, which, I might add, I have been doing since he was a lad. He reported that you have held a wand to him on a number of occasions, that you are unable to control your temper and that you persistently threaten him. In his estimation, you are unfit to teach or lead." She sighed so heavily the air almost rattled. "When I add this to your…behaviour…during my time in London…you must see the position this puts me in?"

"There have been…many -,"

"Indeed. The situation with Professor Burbage. I think you know what I mean. Severus, know that when I ask you this, I do so as a friend, and with the utmost consideration for your wellbeing – were there any…lasting…traumas from, from -?"

He looked at her directly. "Are you asking me if I've gone mad?"

"That's too strong, Severus, and you know it. But there were the migraines, the drinking -,"

"The drinking?" repeated Snape, scalded.

"I'm told you keep Firewhisky in your office. And Dumbledore told me how you spent your nights while I was away. Let me continue. Then I am informed that you have somehow restored memories – I mean, I have been a superior witch for many years, and I am unaware of how that can happen but I can't imagine it is a recommended practice. Next you believe you're being haunted, your son is out of control, you're appointing Aurora as the Godmother and now she seems to be depressed…Severus, need I go on?"

Snape's head was whirling; her words, her deposition – where did he come back from that? Where had everything gone wrong? He was sure he wasn't mad but…she had strong substantiation, he was reasonable enough to see it all from her point of view, and yet he remembered, he remembered her reaching over to hold his arm and thank him - it had started so promisingly. Even before, when he had decided to chance his hand at Potions Master, and dwelled on the possibility of returning to Hogwarts, he had felt a rare sensation of peace, as if discovering, by chance, the road home; of walking along it and encountering small, familiar things that welcomed him, bade him, and affirmed his place in the world. He had no other place in the world. It had taken a journey across it to attest to that. Here, in this building, was anything and everything that was important to him, including her.

Nothing got around the lump in his throat but "Ma'am."

She was studying him closely. It was hard to believe that they were sitting at breakfast, the noise of three hundred freshly-awakened students, cutlery, crockery, teachers, elves, shoes on the stone floor – he heard none of it. The only thing in his ears was need I go on?

"Are you seeking my resignation?"

She looked away and sipped her tea. "Och, Severus, I'm sure that isn't necessary. But perhaps you should consider this as a stand-down period. I'm instructing you to take some leave and if I were you, I would strongly recommend using the time to reflect on whether you are mentally in the right place to resume teaching -,"

"There is no question of it -,"

"And whether Hogwarts is the right place for you and Servius. He does seem so wretched. We've had homesick children before, and disoriented Muggle-borns, but none that resisted quite so long and so hard. We're not trying to force anyone."

Snape stared at his cold cup of coffee and waited for the wave of shock, fury and despair to wash over him. He couldn't believe that his job was on the line – he and Dumbledore had fought frequently, but there had never been a moment when his employment had been at risk. Largely, he understood, because Dumbledore had uses for him which had nothing to do with his Potions ability, but also because Dumbledore had a doctrine that Hogwarts was more than a school – it was home for many of them. So it likely explained why McGonagall had broken this news to him at breakfast rather than in her office. Here, at this table, the teachers were subject to constant, inquisitive glances from the students and he was required to keep his expression blank – she could relate a litany of complaints and disappointments and he could have no visible reaction, but he felt inside the brewing and bubbling of an emotional ferment that needed an escape valve.

He uttered a strangled, "I see," and pushed back his chair, then carefully stood and walked away, eyes on him everywhere, and he kept his face composed as he walked out of the Hall. When he was out of view, the door closed behind him, he stood indecisively, breathing hard, and thought about the archive, the place he'd used to go to feel close to Charity, but right now her situation only added to his burden. So he turned and headed for the only other place he could think of, his bolt-hole as a student, the place he went when Lily died. He went to the Astronomy Tower.

Up on the ramparts he looked out at the bleak, January landscape, and hardly conscious he was doing it, he cast his flying spell and took to the air. He followed the shoreline of the lake and then over the canopy of the Forbidden Forest, keeping low and exhausting himself. This practice was not strictly permitted – to be witnessed by the students was to invoke questions, the kind that didn't have easy answers, in fact the kind that raised other inquisitive questions about who Snape was and where had he learned things like that. He followed a dim skyline and asked himself the question instead. Who are you? How did you come to be like this? And what good can come from it?

It was then he flew over Centaur territory.

A little later, he returned to the Astronomy Tower and with his robe still settling behind him, strode quickly for the stairs. At the top, he heard feet upon them, ascending, and for a moment he thought about hiding until they had passed, but then he heard voices.

"I've seen the Cerberus Realm in the shops at Diagon Alley and they're the best out there at the moment. You're very lucky, Sev. I hope you thanked your father?" Sinistra, sounding normal enough. Not depressed as far as he could tell.

"He knows I like it," was the reply from Servius. He was obliquely honest with her – Snape hadn't been thanked for the broom.

The footsteps stopped outside the door to her office, and he predicted she'd be getting her wand out to unlock it. On impulse, his thoughts still a jumble, Snape went down the stairs and presented himself.

Sinistra's eyes widened in surprise, but Servius frowned darkly at the sight of him. "What are you doing here?"

"I might well ask the same question. Why aren't you in class?"

"First period was Potions. And you weren't there, so the Headmistress gave us free time."

Snape had forgotten about lessons, forgotten about teaching, and the realisation gave him pause. What was happening to him?

"I've invited Servius to see me because I have a Christmas present to give him," said Sinistra, and while her tone was even, her eyes searched his. "What happened to Potions?"

"Cancelled," he said bluntly. "Why aren't you teaching?"

"I, er, I have an appointment with Poppy. I've been tired and…and unwell lately." She concentrated on opening her office door.

"I see. I hope nothing serious."

"I don't know."

"Happy new year, by the way."

"And you. Sounds like yours was…eventful," she said, glancing at Servius. She opened the door to admit the boy and hesitated when Snape didn't move. "Did you want to come in?"

"I don't wish to intrude."

She was perplexed and then frowned at him. "Are you alright?"

No, he wanted to say. Far from it. Would you hold me? He imagined wrapping his arms around her and burying his face into her neck, just to have a person, someone who wanted him. She was the only one he could think of, and he knew she must hate him too. But although he didn't speak, or perhaps because of it, she raised her brows and opened the door wider. "Why don't you join us?" He nodded, once, and followed her.

Servius was already seated on her sofa and he emitted waves of hatred at Snape when he walked in, going so far as standing and heading for the door. "Servius, no, don't be silly," said Sinistra. "Honestly you two! I would have thought having Christmas together would have been a good time to bury the hatchet, but it's out and swinging as much as ever!" she turned to Snape. "Servius said you talked?"

He squared his shoulders. "If by talk you mean his running wildly into a room full of Malfoy friend and family and demanding to know what happened to his mother, then that was the start of a discussion. But then he flew off on his broom across half the southern counties of England and so the conversation became a little difficult."

"He says he won't tell me until I'm older," said Servius sulkily.

"You're too young," Snape said. "And I saw today where you went with the Hellmann girl into Centaur territory. I saw the tomb. How did you know about it? Why were you there? What do you know about the Ouroboros?"

"The what?" said Servius and Sinistra together. Then Servius added, "How did you find the tomb?"

"Are you trying to tell me you stumbled across it by accident? How did you know the way?"

"Centaur territory?" repeated Sinistra in disbelief. "You went into the Forbidden Forest?"

"We were safe," retorted Servius. "Amelie put protective charms on us."

Snape stared at him piercingly. "What other kinds of charms did she put on you?"

"Severus, they're just friends," said Sinistra, but then she turned hotly to Servius. "You're too young! I hope you didn't let her put any charms or jinxes on you! And what's all this about a tomb? What in Merlin's sock drawer is going on?"

Servius blurted: "There's something in the tomb that Professor Longbottom wants. It's why he keeps sneaking into the Forest. We were trying to find it to get it first, because I think when he gets it he'll do something bad!"

Snape and Sinistra stared at him speechless for a moment, then Snape growled, "You stay away from there – do you hear me? You stay away from the Forbidden Forest, and especially Centaur territory. It's strictly out of bounds. It's full of dangerous creatures, the Centaurs use all sorts of tricks to defend themselves."

"We saw the Centaurs Praising," said Servius, seeming to deflate a little. "They looked peaceful. There were families, baby ones, old ones, little kid ones playing. What if Professor Longbottom does something to hurt them because of what he wants?"

Sinistra looked astonished. "Neville? I mean, Professor Longbottom? Hurt the Centaurs?"

But Snape was regarding Servius with fresh respect. "You keep out of his way. Leave this with me."

"I'm not following -," began Sinistra, but then suddenly she paled and her hand flew to her mouth and she glanced frantically about her.

"Aurora -?"

She dived behind her desk and there were sounds of retching and coughing and spluttering, and both Snape's quickly rushed to her side to find her kneeling over her rubbish bin. "Merlin's beard! Are you alright? Is that what's been making you ill? Have you a virus?"

She rose unsteadily, wiping her mouth on her sleeve. "I think…might be a good idea if I have a little lie down," she gasped and Snape nodded.

"Of course, Servius, time to go. Shall I order some tea for you?"

She glanced at him gratefully but shook her head. "There's your present, Servius!" she called, and pointed to a wrapped parcel on her office chair where, presumably, she'd been hiding it. It was quite round and very obviously a football. "You can take it now. Merry Christmas sweetheart."

Servius took the present and he and Snape exchanged looks, then quietly exited the office and shut the door behind them. "Is she going to be okay?" Servius asked.

"I'll check back later after she's had her appointment. There might be something in my store that will help." Then Snape cocked his head slightly. "Madam Pomfrey tells me that you're clear of any serious concussion symptoms. No flying for a while."

But Servius was frowning hard; it was like looking at himself. "I heard you. In the Hospital wing, when you came to visit," he said, holding Snape's gaze. "I heard what you said to Professor Lamebottom about him wishing the Centaurs happy New Year. What do you think he's doing there?"

"The same as you," said Snape shortly, moving away and starting down the stairs. He heard Servius follow. "He's looking for something, and he knows he's close but he can't seem to find it. No doubt the Centaurs have foiled him repeatedly."

"Do you know what he's looking for?"

Snape had reached the Entrance Hall and was marching across the flagstones towards the dungeon stairs. Without looking back he said, "It's of no concern to you, Servius."

Servius slowly made his way to the Slytherin Common Room and steeled himself outside the hidden entrance. Both he and Amelie had been sent to Coventry since the hundred House Point deduction, but being a day student, she didn't spend anywhere near the same amount of time in the Common Room, and the cold-shouldered rejection from his House was his alone to deal with.

The other Slytherins had long ago cottoned-on to the dysfunctional relationship between Servius and his father, it once having been a dependable source of gossip, and any aegis he'd been under had dissipated over time. They did not offer him any exemptions and it did not afford him any protection. In some ways it was good to know he was on his own two feet, but it was disconcerting to realise that the Slytherins still held Snape in high regard whereas he – a student like them – was viewed as the problem half of the equation.

When he entered, it was only the first-years in there, whiling away the final twenty minutes of their cancelled Potions class. Servius shared a dorm with all of the boys, had seen most of them at their most vulnerable, listened to their farts, burps and sleep-talking, heard their stories – tall and short – their fantasies and fears. But now it was as though they could see right through him. It had been like this for days, and Servius told himself he didn't care but he hoped, anyway, that the thaw might start soon.

Wait for William was with Samuel Small and Ackley Shrew, seated at a small, round table before the submerged windows, deeply immersed in a wizarding role-playing game. With Sinistra's gift still in his hands, Servius walked awkwardly across the room to the table and stood a little distance from it, in William's line of site.

When William bent his head still lower over his cards, Servius raised the wrapped parcel, attempted a grin and said, "Hey…guess what's in here? Pretty sure it's that violin I wanted."

William frowned a little and the three boys paused in their game.

"Wanna try it out?"

"We, uh, we're in the middle of a game, Sev."

"Oh. Sure. Maybe later?"

"Why don't you ask your girlfriend?" said Shrew, not taking his eyes off his cards. Small snickered, but William just looked slightly pained.

Servius ignored them, more focused on the fact that William still hadn't even looked at him. "C'mon man…" he said.

When William had returned from his holidays full of excited stories about his trip to America, Servius had listened gladly. But as began to recount his own misadventures, William had fallen quiet, and stopped smiling and he appeared unsettled, irked even. It took the SHM the following Monday for the total withdrawal, and Servius had hardly seen his best friend for a week.

William sighed and put his cards face down, causing much indignant complaint, and told the other two he'd be back in a minute. Then he walked deliberately to an empty corner of the Common room, out of earshot, forcing Servius to follow him.

"Sev, you can't do nothing later cause you have detention, remember? There's no point hanging out just now -,"

"What? Why -,"

"Cause if I wanna play cards or whatever, the other kids will bugger off. You just want to get expelled, but I can't do that, I don't want to do that, man, I have to stay at Hogwarts, and anyway, I fuckin' hate Amelie."

"Amelie's not here -,"

"I know but – you used to hate her too so, you know man? What happened? You can't do duelling and shit…" he sighed and shrugged. "There's just no…point."

Servius stared at William in incomprehension, his heart starting to pound. "You don't wanna to hang out anymore?"

"I don't know…maybe when you've sorted your shit out. But what's the point of being mates when you just want to leave?"

William at last raised his eyes and his gaze at Servius was level. Servius didn't speak, no words presented themselves, the churn inside was too wild for words to help. He nodded his head stiffly and his thoughts turned to the things he'd had planned for William. He wanted to try out for the Juniors, he was going to get William's help to get back into the Duelling Club, take him to the abandoned house and sneak into Hogsmeade, get their football team back up and if William wanted to hang out with Small and Shrew and play the role-playing cards, then he could have a go at that as well. This was not what he'd expected.

"So I'm gonna go back to the guys now…we cool?"

"Sure," said Servius, flicking his hair out of his eyes, desperately trying to appear nonchalant. "Yeah. Cool. Whatever."

William slowly walked away, and Servius watched only for a moment. Tears were threatening and there was no way he could allow that to happen. Suddenly feeling incredibly foolish standing there, alone, wanting to cry with a ball wrapped in Christmas paper, he found anger, his old ally, and without thinking, hurled the ball at the back of William. "Fuck you!" he yelled, his go-to invective when impotence robbed him of anything better. Iona McGhee, on the other side of the room, turned: her concern, her sympathy was clear in her gaze.

He exited the Common Room as quickly as he could, not waiting to see how William would retaliate but he had a horrible suspicion that his friend wouldn't, that he was now the subject of pity more than scorn and nobody want to engage with him, not even negatively.

And just as his father had, he stood in the Entrance Hall and realised he had no-one, nowhere to go. This running, this constant running, this instinct to move but having no destination, no-one coming after him, it had achieved nothing. He ended up back here, worse than before.

A strange sensation was mounting in Servius and he began to walk without purpose; he walked out the front door and into the courtyard, unheeding of the bitter cold or the view of the lake, the Forest, the iron sky. In him was a deep surging of something elemental, and while his vital signs were rising, his mind was sinking. He reached the stone balustrade of the courtyard and placed his hands on it, hardly aware of the fuzzy moss beneath his fingers, and then the black whirling began. His burst of uncontrolled magic erupted with such velocity that waves reached the outermost fringe of the forest, the shuddering trees sending an unkindness of ravens into the air and small rocks to tremble down the hillside.

The blackout did his health no good at all. Aggravating his healing brain, the pressure caused an intense headache that saw him bedridden in the dorm for the remainder of that day. He was too tired and sick to even think about what had happened.

At dinner time, Snape came to his bedside and Servius pulled a pillow over his head. Sitting on the edge of the bed, Snape asked quietly, "What happened?"

"Nothing."

"Hagrid told me. He saw it. What caused it?"

"Leave me alone."

"Have you had an uncontrolled before? It can be…intimidating, especially the first time."

Servius didn't answer. He hadn't felt intimidated, he'd felt divorced from his body, as if a main switch had been thrown, he'd done things – his body had done things - outside of his influence, his knowledge even.

He heard Snape sigh heavily. "Servius, I know about these things. It might help…to talk…Becoming a wizard, understanding your abilities…it's more than just waving a wand."

"I told you. A million times. I don't want to be a wizard."

"Then having control of it is even more important. You can't return to Muggledom and periodically have outbursts of magic that shake the nearest building. It would appear you have a large and natural power and you need to understand it. Even if all you ever learn is how to keep that under wraps."

Servius had no reply. He was too tired to think, and he was confused by Snape being here. If he wasn't completely wrong, it sounded like his father was almost proud, intrigued by this event. He pushed back the pillow a little and eyed Snape, a little warily, a little curiously.

Snape caught his eye. There was no smile or affection but he looked steadily. "Son, I have to go to London for a few days, and to Cokeworth. I've asked Professor Slughorn and Professor Sinistra to keep an eye on you."

"Can I come?" Servius asked. He even surprised himself with the spontaneity of the question, but he thought the prospect of long, lonely evenings in the Slytherin Common Room was behind it. If he was pleasant and polite to Snape, it might be tolerable – certainly preferable.

Snape was stunned, but then recovered to say, "You have school, Servius. Not to mention detention. You have amends to make."

"But I - ,"

"I may have to return in February. I'll take you then, I promise you. But I can't this time."

"Fine!" Servius said, pulling the pillow back over his eyes. There was quiet for a moment, then he heard Snape rise from the bed and his footsteps leave the dorm.

The third detention that week was held after dinner, in the library. For the first two, Slughorn had assigned chores for Servius and Amelie: one involved a torturous cross-referencing between store inventory records and stock, and the second comprised cleaning detail in the brewing chamber. Servius and Amelie were not permitted to liaise in any way, and Slughorn had mounted a surprisingly close surveillance and strict separation.

But by the third, Slughorn was running out of puff, and that evening, having enjoyed a hearty serving of cottage pie for dinner, he was in an unhurried mood as he shepherded the Slytherins from the Great Hall to their common room. He seemed almost surprised as a silent Servius and Amelie stood by at the door, as had been the arrangement the previous two days, awaiting instruction on their evening's punishment.

"Oh, ah, Snape, Ms Hellmann – detention again is it? Of course, had quite forgotten – was it every day this week? I see…I see…seemed like a good idea at the time, eh? Didn't it? I say, have you learnt anything so far? Is all this detaining helping you understand the error of your ways?"

Servius shrugged. It hadn't. He'd learnt a good deal about the potions store and how to remove carbon stains, but so far his only regret was getting caught.

"Uhhhhm….the library I think," said Slughorn, rocking on his heels and polishing his glasses with a hanky. "I used to make your father serve detention there, young Snape. Gave him extra theory assignment in potions. His detentions proved to be very profitable, evidently. Right then – so off we go."

As a group they made their way to the first floor, Slughorn chatting amiably to fill the sullen silence from Servius and Amelie, although their exchanged looks communicated plenty anyway. As they entered the library, Slughorn stopped at the front desk to converse briefly with Madam Pince and Servius used the moment to discreetly speak to Amelie.

"Hey."

"Hey," she said under her breath, and a small smile rose to her lips. "Are you okay? I heard about your uncontrolled."

"You did?"

"Ja. My father. He said it is proof that you are not a good…um…association. What caused it?"

Servius scowled a little, irritated by Professor Hellmann who, to his face in a recent DADA class, had in fact complimented him in a roundabout way. To Amelie he said, "Just more crap. William doesn't want to hang out anymore. Some of those Slytherin kids are berks."

"Ah. William does not like me, I know that."

Servius hung his head noncommittally. He didn't want to be in the middle.

"I have found something out -," began Amelie, looking furtive, but just then Slughorn returned.

"Right, you two. You'll need to be at opposite ends of a table. Madam Pince has told me where to set up. Follow me."

They walked for some length along corridors between the rows of shelves until they came to one of the tabled study areas, the lamps and sconces creating scant light, the scent of candlewax and beeswax blended with dust and mildew. Servius was seated at one end of a long table, Amelie at the opposite side and end, and Slughorn moved along the nearby shelves, muttering and waving his wand, enchanting several weighty, dull-looking books to float down onto the table before the pair. Servius glanced over their titles: "Crypts per Continent", "Time Disruption and Consequences", "Modern Muggle Conservation Legislation and its Implications for Prototypic Potioneering" If he'd had any intention at all of reading them, he would have groaned, but instead he glanced over at Amelie. She held up a book for him to see titled: "Grasses with Skills" and looked boggled.

For several minutes they sat quietly at their seats, flipping pages while Slughorn arranged a quilted armchair nearby for himself and stated that he had to work on his own treatise and that he expected a one-scroll summary on each of the texts by the end of detention. Then he withdrew from the inside pocket of his jacket a small flask, whisked open the cap and took a quick swig. Within half an hour, he was snoring.

Servius watched openly as Amelie took one of her scrolls, ripped it in half, and wrote a message on it. Then she began to fold it repeatedly, this way and that until it was no bigger than the palm of her hand. Finally, she took out her wand, tapped the folded paper and murmured an incantation.

Two folds lay out flat and horizontal on either side of the paper and began to flap. It rose into the air and made a disorderly flight down the length of the table like a harebrained butterfly. Not until Servius had it in his hands, ready to open, did he realise it was an origami moth.

The message, written in neat cursive, read: I have been doing my homework! Having a father who is a Professor of Dark Arts can be useful. The eye of the serpent at the tomb is one of the Stone Triad (were you paying attention in History?) It is the Resurrection Stone. I think Prof. Long. knows it is there because it is valuable, perhaps he can sell it? But to remove it is very dangerous.

Servius did remember the history lesson, but he also remembered thinking at the time that it was merely a legend, a myth, that Wizarding folk were always imbuing superstition and symbolism into things. But perhaps this was one of those occasions when the parable had a truth at the heart of it. Why else would Longbottom be so driven? Why else would his father have reacted so strongly?

He glanced quickly at Slughorn, whose head was now nodding on his chest, and said quietly but in hopes she could hear: "What does it do?"

A slight frown dinted her brow, but she smiled. "Resurrects, duh."

He smiled back. Then after straightening her creased piece of parchment, he retrieved a ballpoint pen out of his pocket – an old one of his mother's that now barely worked – and wrote: I miss you on it. He didn't know how to do origami, let alone make it fly, but he used to make the meanest paper aeroplanes in his class. Moments later, he had the equivalent of a Concorde, replete with dropped nose, and deftly flicked it to her. She read the note, smiled widely, and then with a twitch of her wand the parchment dissolved into a million specks.