Chapter 16 – Parenting Habits of the Guilty and Innocent

"Earl Grey is traditional!"

"But English Breakfast is a much more robust brew, and it's high time for a change!"

"We've had Earl Grey for the last two hundred forty-three years."

"My point exactly!" She slammed her palm onto the table and the teapot squeaked.

Cameron followed the argument with ill-concealed mirth. He leaned toward Snape. "Are they always like this?" He didn't remember anyone coming to blows over tea at the staff meeting last term, but with it being his first he was understandably distracted.

"Not really. I think they're making their own war, now they know the Dark Lord is gone for good."

"We cannot simply deprive all those who have come to love the usual staff room tea."

"What about the ones who are sick and tired of it? Did you think about them? Did you?"

The more time he spent around the Head of Gryffindor, the more he realized what a child he'd been before he went back in time. He'd always thought of her in the same age group as Dumbledore—at least a hundred. But looking at her now, her cheeks flushed with anger, her lips pressed into a thin line (when she wasn't shouting), he was certain she wasn't a day over seventy. Barely middle-aged.

"You're doing this on purpose! I don't know what makes you think you can always have your way, but it's high time you learned to compromise—even five-year-olds know they can't have their way all the time!"

He didn't think he'd ever heard his old Head of House scream quite so loud. Dumbledore was still speaking in a normal tone of voice, but it was clear he was upset. If this went on much longer, he was afraid McGonagall might shift to her animagus form and claw her boss' eyes out.

He decided to speak up before any blood was shed or the teapot got so distressed it fell right off the table. "Er, is there any reason we can't have both?"

They both turned and looked at him like they were surprised to see him there. They were so caught up, they probably forgot where they were completely. They each looked around the room at all the other professors eyeing them with amusement and concern.

Dumbledore cleared his throat and tried to smile. "Yes, well. I'm sure that would be an agreeable solution. Isn't that right, Minerva?"

"Hmph. I daresay I must agree. But not because you said so!"

"Of course not," Dumbledore answered, twinkling at her.

Her eyes flashed with indignation and Cameron cut her off before they could get going again. "When did you say the first Hogsmeade weekend is? I'm afraid I didn't write it down."

"Spoilsport," Snape mumbled.

XXX

He sat curled on the sofa with his lesson plans and a cup of tea, but he was spending most of his time watching Snape. His lover sat at his desk with a pile of essays, but, like Cameron, his attention seemed to be on other things. He mostly stared unseeing at his inkpot.

"Snape, what's wrong?" Snape opened his mouth and Cameron cut in, "Don't say nothing. There's obviously something on your mind."

Snape seemed to be about to object again, then thought better of it and blurted, "Why don't you ever invite me to your rooms?"

Well, that was unexpected. "Um, I don't know. I never really thought about it." Surely Snape wasn't upset with him for spending so much time in the dungeons.

Snape looked down and addressed his quill. "I don't understand. You seemed to welcome me into your house easily enough."

Oh. "I hate my quarters. I don't like being there—it doesn't feel like home."

"And your house does?"

"My house…and here."

"Ah," Snape responded with careful nonchalance, but Cameron could see the ghost of a smile playing around his lips as he turned back to his marking.

XXX

His first plan was to see justice served and get Malfoy sentenced to life in prison. Unfortunately, with the Wizengamot in his pocket, it seemed the man could do no wrong. He'd already been acquitted for any actions before the Great Git fell by claiming to have been Imperiused, and Cameron didn't have any actual proof of crimes he'd committed afterward.

The hex he'd used on Snape was more than just a little illegal, but then they'd have to explain about the diary, and that wouldn't turn out well. He could try drawing Malfoy into doing something he shouldn't, but there was no guarantee Cameron wouldn't be arrested right alongside him. He didn't have savior-of-the-wizarding-world status to trade on anymore.

He was so frustrated! He knew good and well that Malfoy was the worst kind of man, but all the crimes he had personal knowledge of had happened in the other timeline. With the way things had changed, none of those things would be taking place this time.

He was close to giving it up as a bad job when Draco came back from summer break wearing a glamour. No one else seemed to notice, but the red-rimmed eyes and haunted look were obvious to him. Who knew what injuries were concealed under his robes.

He stopped the boy on his way out of the Great Hall. "Mr. Malfoy. I'm afraid I must insist you visit Madam Pomfrey before you return to your dormitory."

Draco shot him a suspicious look. "There's nothing wrong with me. I don't need the hospital wing."

"Unless you want me to start asking questions, I suggest you do as you're told. You can count on Madam Pomfrey's discretion, if that's what you're worried about."

"I told you, I'm fine!" he insisted, trying to cover his fear and shame with anger.

"Don't make me take house points, Mr. Malfoy. Now, shall I escort you, or do you think you can find it on your own?"

"I'll go."

"I'm glad to hear it. I'll know if you don't keep your word. Now off with you."

"Yes, Professor," Draco ground out through clenched teeth and turned to stalk to the hospital wing.

Cameron resolved to do whatever it took to see Lucius Malfoy answer for his crimes, whether through official channels or not.

XXX

As Harry got a bit older, Cameron became more and more concerned that someone (namely Snape) would make the connection between them. The scar and the Parselmouth business helped, along with the fact that no one besides Snape had any reason to suspect he'd traveled back in time, but he still worried.

If Harry ever decided to grow his hair out or get rid of the glasses, he might be in trouble.

He wasn't certain—it was, after all, rather difficult to get a sense of one's own magical signature—but he thought his and Harry's magic were rather different. It made sense, seeing as Cameron had housed a Horcrux and Harry had not. He just hoped it was enough of a difference to divert any suspicions.

Finally, the anxiety got to him and he couldn't take it anymore.

"You've never asked me about what my name used to be."

"No, and I shan't."

Well, thank the Founders for that, at least. "Why not? Aren't you curious?"

"I thought about asking, at first. But imagine how awkward it would be if I ever met your younger self—assuming you've even been born yet. I think I would be hard pressed to behave normally."

It did make sense. Trust Snape to be the most logical person ever. "You're right. I just wanted to make sure you didn't resent me or anything for not telling you."

Snape shrugged. "Like I said, I was a bit curious. But it's nothing to do with us."

Cameron smiled in relief. "You're right, it isn't."

XXX

He rounded the fourth floor corridor and thought he was experiencing déjà vu. The scene was eerily familiar—Harry had his wand trained on Draco, who was dangling upside down in midair, Ron was beside himself with laughter in between taunts and insults, and Hermione just stood there biting her lip, knowing it was wrong and not doing anything. At least Draco was wearing trousers under his robes.

"What in the name of Merlin do you think you're doing?"

Harry whipped around to face him and lost control of his spell, but Cameron was quick to levitate Draco and lower him gently to the ground.

"Are you injured, Mr. Malfoy?"

Draco shook his head.

"Fine. Off with you, then."

Draco hastily left he vicinity. "Now then. Someone care to tell me what possessed you to gang up on a classmate?"

Ron was red in the face and Harry looked torn between shame and righteous indignation. Cameron decided on a different tack.

"Who taught you that spell? Never mind, I know very well who it was. You may tell your godfather, Mr. Potter, that it is high time he grew up and began setting the kind of example James would have wanted rather than reliving his cruel teenage pranks. I will not tolerate any more behavior in this vein from you—nor you, Mr. Weasley."

Harry opened his mouth to protest, but Cameron wasn't finished. "Thirty points from Gryffindor each for Mr. Potter and Mr. Weasley, and detention the rest of this week with Mr. Filch. Miss Granger, ten points for you. Next time something like this happens, I expect you to call in reinforcements if you don't think you can handle the situation yourself."

The boys looked like they wanted to defend themselves, but Hermione said, "Yes, Professor Sage," grabbed them each by an arm, hissed, "Shush, we got off easy," and dragged them away.

When they were out of sight, Cameron slumped against the wall. What was happening to Harry? Surely Sirius wasn't entirely to blame, though he certainly wasn't helping. He hadn't considered what sort of effect the absence of several life-changing experiences might have on young Harry.

He could picture the two of them in Grimmauld Place, maybe Remus was there too, but probably not. Sirius would be feeling a bit at sea, still new at parenting a teenager. The last thing he'd remember clearly would be being twenty-one years old and James Potter's best friend. He'd miss James and see him in Harry, whether he was really there or not. They'd sit about in the evenings with Sirius telling stories of his glory days with the father Harry had no memory of and congratulating him for killing Voldemort. He could sort of understand Harry wanting to emulate the things he heard about his father, but surely he was smart enough to know that wasn't exactly proper behavior. Surely he was mature enough to understand that just because his father acted that way when he was at school didn't make it right.

He'd assumed Harry would turn out the same way he had. Maybe, in the end, he would. Cameron hadn't thought he'd ever be grateful for all the awful things that happened to him and the people he loved, but it seemed they weren't without their advantages.

XXX

He was expecting it, of course, but the relief he felt was palpable when no fourth name came flying out of the Goblet of Fire. He was actually able to enjoy watching the tasks, secure in the knowledge that a portkey to a graveyard full of masked villains and death wasn't waiting for the champion.

He managed not to show his surprise when Viktor Krum won the tournament. Somehow, he'd assumed that Cedric would come out on top. But, with Krum free of any Unforgivables during the third task and without Harry there to inform Cedric about the dragons and give him time to prepare, Krum prevailed.

He was a little annoyed with Cedric for being so put out about coming in second place, but he reminded himself that the boy didn't know to be grateful he was still alive. He was just a seventeen-year-old kid who'd let his classmates down.

Cameron knew it was a small price to pay, even if Cedric didn't. Besides, he knew the Hufflepuffs wouldn't hold it against him for long. It went quite against their nature to carry grudges.