Chapter Thirty-seven

Boy, is it getting stuffy in here, Slyther commented, his head popping to the surface of Harry's pocket as Harry made his way back to the chambers from visiting Dumbledore's office. They hadn't traced Quirrel yet—but it was Harry who had told Dumbledore that he wanted to be informed of the good and the bad news. He just had to handle them.

"I don't understand how you can even fit in there," Harry said, rounding a corner. "Isn't it a bit… well… small?"

Nothing that I can't handle! said Slyther. It's may be small, but I can fit. It's much better than me on top of your head, which by the way I haven't forgotten the time when you threw me off.

"That was an accident," Harry said with a groan. Did the snake have to bring that topic up again? "I didn't do it on purpose. Maybe you should be a bit more careful next time, huh?"

Oh me, careful? That is an insult. I am careful all the time, Slyther replied, and Harry looked down at him. It is you that is not careful. I mean, watch out!

His eyes still down on the snake, Harry's brow furrowed. "Watch out? For what? And what do you mean 'I mean, watch out!'? That doesn't make any sense at—" Harry's voice was cut off as he banged into a wall; his face screwing up in pain as he fell to the ground, rubbing his head.

"Ow," he muttered, rubbing his forehead.

See, I'm right, Slyther said triumphantly. You aren't careful. If you were, you would've been not looking at me but kept your eyes forward, and you wouldn't have hit the wall. See?

"I do see," Harry said, hauling himself up off the ground. "I'm seeing right now. Double, actually. Of everything."

Not what I mean, Slyther said, trying to squirm out of Harry's pocket. Maybe Harry's pocket was just a bit too small for him, and you know it.

"I'm just joking," Harry said, helping Slyther out of his pocket. "Where d'you wanna go?"

Meaning? Before Harry could get anything in, Slyther realized what the boy was talking about. Oh, yes. You're head, please.

"At least you've got manners," Harry said with a smile, bypassing Snape's classroom to get to the chambers. "That's a good thing."

Changing the subject, Slyther said, sounding rather annoyed. What about Christmas?

Harry's brow furrowed as he stepped into the dank chambers. He needed to light a fire—it was unbearably cold.

"What about Christmas?" He asked, taking off his shoes. Once they were off, he started to search the kitchen for some sort of lighter, or something he could start a fire with.

Well, it's in a few days, correct me if I'm wrong. You haven't even been out yet to do any Christmas shopping of sorts.

"Oh, well sorry," Harry said, getting frustrated. Not with his snake, but that he couldn't find anything to start a fire with. "I'll be out sometime. There's no rush."

Fine, fine, Slyther said, and Harry could just imagine Slyther (if he were human) raising his arms in surrender. I was just wondering. No need to bite my head off.

"I never bit your head off," Harry said, frowning. He lifted his arms up and grasped the snake with his hands, gently lifting the snake off his head and setting him onto the floor. "Where can I find simple matches? There has to be some here somewhere. Unless Severus uses his wand to light a fire…"

Can I ask you a question? Slyther asked almost tentatively as Harry climbed up onto the counter and started searching through cupboards.

"What?" Harry said distractedly, taking a handful of whatever was in the cupboard and setting it on the counter next to him. "You just did."

Slyther sighed. Why do you keep lying to the greasy human about your dreams?

Harry froze, his hands holding onto a piece of parchment. Slowly, he turned his head around and looked at the ground, where Slyther was.

"Excuse me?"

Oh, don't 'excuse me' me! You heard me, and you know exactly what I'm talking about. Don't play dumb. You're lying to the greasy human about your dreams. I know you've been having them lately, Slyther said, impatience thick in his slick voice. Why are you lying to him?

Slowly, Harry climbed down off the counter and bent down to pick Slyther up. He went into the next room and sat down on the couch, setting Slyther on the cushion next to him.

"So you know I've been having the dreams, huh?" Harry said quietly, keeping his eyes averted from Slyther.

Duh! Why haven't you told the greasy human yet? Is that weird human… the one visiting you in your dreams… is he sexually harassing you or something? Is that why you aren't telling the greasy human about them?

Harry finally looked down at Slyther, a blank expression on his face. "What?"

Slyther said impatiently. Never mind! What happens in your dreams that make you not want to tell the greasy human about them?

Harry licked his lips. "Nothing, really. Quirrel usually just… threatens me."

So, answer my other question. Why do you lie to the greasy human?

Harry shrugged. "I don't know. I don't want to, I really don't… I just don't know why I lied to him."

Shouldn't you tell him about it? It was only one dream you never told him you had, sure, but if you have another one wouldn't you say that you'd lie to him about that one? And then if you have another one after that, you might lie to him about that one. Your lies about the dream would just start progressing… I really think you should tell him about it so you don't end up with one, large web of lies.

"Okay, okay, O wise one," Harry said sarcastically, jumping up from the couch to start his search for the matches again. "I'll tell him soon enough. How 'bout when he comes home?"

Harry didn't wait for an answer. Instead, he climbed back up on the counter and dug through more cupboards.

"Where on earth could matches be kept at?" Harry muttered, loud enough for Slyther to hear.

How do you know that the greasy human even has matches? What if he uses that… stick-thing…?

"That's what I'm wondering," Harry said. "But his chambers are so cold. Especially in the winter. And since I don't have a wand to light the fire in the fireplace, I'll have to do it the muggle way. Matches, or a lighter. Whichever one I find first."

If you ever find one, Slyther said. And I expect 'matches' or a 'lighter' create fire, right? What if you catch your hand on fire? I mean, I'm no human, but wouldn't you say you're a bit young to be using them?

Harry glanced back at the couch, where he knew Slyther was. "Oh, I dunno. I used them at the Dursleys."

Well, I guess if you used them there then you're allowed.

"Come on…" Harry said, groaning as he finally realized there were no matches or lighters in the cupboard. He was looking more for matches, since he wasn't too fond of lighters that much. He jumped down off the counter and walked into the next room where Slyther was. Harry sat back down on the couch and looked at the dead fire.

It's really not that cold, Slyther finally said. I mean, I'm not cold.

"That's you," Harry said, crossing his arms over his chest. "I should've went to class with Severus. I can't sit here until lunch. It's impossible."

Find something to do, Slyther suggested. Go to that place with all the wizard stores, or whatever they are. You know, for Christmas stuff.

"Hmm, that's true," Harry mused, looking down at Slyther. "But, what if we go and then don't get back till late? Severus might be mad that I left without him knowing. I could get in big trouble, you know."

But if you're picking up just one thing, you couldn't possibly take that long, right? Lunch is in two hours.

Harry furrowed his brow. "Two hours? How d'you know? You don't have a watch on."

Yes, well… Slyther stopped, trying to think of something to say. The truth was, he didn't know what time it was. He was just guessing. The only thing he knew that was, like Harry, he couldn't just sit on the couch and wait for the greasy human to return from his education class.

"Well?" Harry said when Slyther didn't respond.

Well… I know the time because, well… the sky. When the sky is a light shade of blue, it means it's still early out. When it's medium colored, that means it's around the afternoon. When it's almost a dark blue, that means that it's the evening; when the sky's almost a black color, it's night, Slyther explained, making it up as he went along.

"Really?" Harry raised his eyebrows in surprise. He didn't know that.

Yep, Slyther lied. So, look at the outside.

Harry got up from the couch and went to his room to take a good look out the window. When he arrived at the window, he let his hands rest on the windowsill as he peered out into the sky, tilting his head to the side.

Well? Slyther said as Harry returned to the couch.

"It's grey. And snowing," Harry informed the snake. "What time does that mean?"

Slyther paused. Um… what color shade of grey?

Harry's brow furrowed as he thought about the sky color. "Almost a light shade."

Then that means that it's still morning, Slyther said quickly. Now let's go, huh? We'll be back in a flash.

-

Harry's feet shuffled through the snow as he took a good look at some of the shops that were still open in Hogsmeade. Whoever were still in their shops still welcomed Harry, though Harry didn't go in any shops to look around.

Oh will you pick something already? Slyther, who was on top of Harry's head, complained with an exasperated sigh. We've been here for hours!

A panicked look crossed Harry's face. "What? We have? Oh, what if Severus came to get me for lunch and he doesn't find me there—"

Woah, Slyther said, his voice free of complaint. I didn't mean it literally, Harry. It just seemed like it.

Harry let out a relieved breath. "Good. I hope it isn't lunch yet. What time is it now, Slyther?"

Uh… Slyther said, stalling. Um… it's, uh, almost lunch… I think?

Harry nodded. "Okay, we should be going back to Hogwarts just in case. I didn't know that you could tell the time by looking at the sky. Thanks for telling me that."

Uhm… no problem, Slyther said. Could you even tell the time by looking at the sky? He didn't know, but at least they were leaving. He would've had more fun if Harry actually looked around in a store instead of glancing at it and then bypassing it.

"Hopefully Severus doesn't know that I left Hogwarts. And nobody is going to tell him, right?" Harry waited for a response from Slyther, but none came. Still walking, he took Slyther off his head and held him in front of his face, finally stopping since he realized he couldn't keep walking and hold the snake in front of his own face at the same time.

"Right?" Harry repeated. "You're not going to tell him about our trip to Hogsmeade."

No, of course not, Slyther said. Why, do you think I will?

"Prob'ley," Harry said, putting Slyther back on his head and resumed walking. "If Sev'rus doesn't know we left already. He can hear our conversations sometimes too, remember, because he has 'the gift'?"

How could I forget? Although, Harry, he can just hear our conversations when we're near him—we're not very much near him now, are we? Anyway, didn't you say that the greasy human probably blocked out our conversation? So how could he know?

"I dunno," Harry said with a shake of his head. "He could've unblocked us."

So, Slyther said, starting on a new topic. You didn't exactly get anything for that greasy human of yours, did you?

Harry shook his head sadly, feeling the coins he found in Snape's room in his pocket. He believed that Snape had called them 'Sickles, Knuts and Galleons.'

"No, I didn't. But maybe next time."

-

Harry rushed through the door of the chambers and raced past the kitchen and into the next room, throwing himself on the couch after setting Slyther down on the floor, just as Snape walked into the room.

"Hey, Severus," Harry greeted cheerfully, hoping that he didn't sound out of breath. "Was class good?"

"As good as it'll get," Snape muttered as he came into the living room, where Harry was. "What did you do while I was out?"

Harry shrugged, letting out a sigh. "Nothing exciting. Just stayed here… right in this spot… waiting for you."

"Oh, really? Did you go anywhere at all?" Snape seemed to be looking at Harry's shoes, which he didn't take off.

Harry cleared his throat. "Nope. After you left for class, Dumbledore called me into his office to talk to me about Quirrel stuff, but that's 'bout it. Why?"

"Because there's snow on the floor," Snape pointed out.

Harry stood up from the couch to see where Snape was looking at. True to his words, there was snow all over the kitchen floor, though it melted and was now water. That surprised Harry, though, because he would've thought that by how cold the chambers were the snow would've stayed… snow.

"Uh, I was thirsty," Harry said quickly, bending down to pick Slyther up. "I wanted a glass of water. Guess I spilled, sorry."

"And are you also sorry for the snow on the floor?"

Harry's brow furrowed. "That isn't snow, Severus. That's water I spilled—"

"That may be so," Snape said, "but that is certainly snow on the floor."

Now, Harry saw where Snape was looking at. Aside from the melted snow on the patch of carpeted floor, there was still a heap of snow from Harry's shoes that hadn't melted yet.

"I have no idea where that came from," Harry said innocently, shaking his head as he looked at the snow. "But, I'm hungry, are you hungry? I am. Let's go."

-

"What?" Quirrel was past shocked. He was furious. This woman, though she may've been a Death Eater, had no right to tell him and Voldemort whether he should kill Potter and Snape or not.

"No, let her speak," the hoarse voice of Voldemort said. "I'd like to hear what Aureus has in mind, Quirrel."

"Very well," Quirrel grumbled.

"Thank you, my Lord," Aureus said sweetly, and though she was looking at Quirrel, Quirrel knew that she wasn't talking to him, but Voldemort. "As I was saying, I don't think you should kill Harry. Why not bring him up as your son… our son? We could continue to raise Harry evil. He'd be a very powerful man, you realize, especially if he's evil. He could be the next Dark Lord; he'd do amazing things by your side."

There was quiet from Voldemort. Aureus tucked her brown hair behind her ears, eagerly awaiting Voldemort's view of the plan.

"Hmm… you do have a point Aureus… but us?" Voldemort finally said.

Aureus blushed. "Yes, my Lord. Us. It could very well be the perfect family."

Again, silence, until: "Very well. Let me ponder this, and I shall get back to you…"

-

Jenae was still horrified. She couldn't sleep, nor eat, until she knew what condition Caoimhe was in. The sight still haunted her dreams: Caoimhe unconscious on the floor, bathing in her own blood. The beautiful lamp Jenae received as a wedding present when she was still married had been shattered to smithereens.

"Oh, Doctor, how's Caoimhe doing?" Jenae asked quickly, jumping to her feet as Caoimhe's doctor approached her.

"Still hard to say, so I'm going to give you the same answer I gave you ten minutes ago: We're still not sure," the Doctor replied. "Maybe you should go home and rest, Mrs. Honestas. We'll give you a ring if anything comes up."

"I can't leave," Jenae said with a shake of her head, though she could hardly remember how long she'd been in the hospital for. She thought that it was perhaps a day, maybe two.

"Caoimhe is still unconscious," the Doctor said gently. "We're almost positive that she has a concussion. We just may have to stitch Caoimhe's head up; there's a pretty bad gash there," The doctor paused. "Maybe you should go home, Mrs. Honestas. We've got everything under control for now."

"A concussion?" Jenae paled. "Oh, my. I shouldn't of left—I shouldn't of…"

"Have you found the person who did this to your daughter, Mrs. Honestas?"

"Ms. Honestas," Jenae corrected, gulping back tears. "And Caoimhe isn't my daughter. She's my niece. As for the person who did that to her, I haven't a word from the police yet."

The doctor shook his head. "That's a pity. Does Caoimhe have any other relatives that don't know of her being hospitalized? There's a phone you could use—"

"The only other person is her father, and he lives in England. Her mother is in a coma. She lived with her mother in England, and since her mother and father split awhile back… Well, she came here, to America, to live with me," Jenae explained, sitting back down. "And I don't think I can leave the hospital just yet, Doctor Keigh. Not until I have good news of Caoimhe."

-

Slyther nudged Harry with his head as they sat in the Great Hall, as if to say, "Well, tell him already!"

Harry glared down at Slyther. "Quit it."

Tell him.

"I will after," Harry said, hoping that Snape still had the two blocked. "Just not now."

Yes now, Slyther argued. Now's the perfect time. And you shouldn't be afraid to tell him about a lousy dream. What are you, a chicken?

Harry scowled. "I am not a 'chicken.'"

Then stop acting like one! Start acting like a brave, bold and manly serpent! Tell the greasy human now.

Harry moaned, and was immediately thankful that the moan was barely audible.

"Uh… Severus, can I tell you something?" Harry said, setting his fork down by his plate and glanced up at Snape.

"Do you feel ill?" Snape said.

Harry shook his head. "No, it's not that. It's about those dreams…"

Snape raised his eyebrows. "You've caught my attention. Continue."

"Well, I had one a while back. I-I forget when, but I didn't tell you about it because—Well I don't really know why I didn't tell you."

"Well you're telling me now," Snape said. "Better late than never. Would you care to explain what it was about?"

"It was sorta about… stuff," Harry said. "Y'know… stuff."

"Stuff," Snape repeated. "What sort of 'stuff' would that be?"

"Well," Harry started slowly, "just sorta… stuff from my life with the Dursleys, kind of. About when I lived with them. I think he said that he wanted to enjoy me being in emotional pain. Then… that was that. There was just that."

"That's it?" Snape repeated. "Well, that's certainly odd."

Harry nodded, picking his fork back up again and turning back to his food.

"It could've just been me actually dreaming all of that, though, y'know."

Harry felt good that he had told Snape about the dream, and didn't keep it to himself any longer. He also knew Slyther was right. If he hadn't of told Snape about the dream, he would end up with one giant web of lies.

Harry really hadn't expected Slyther to be that… well, smart about it. It was something Harry thought he'd never see: Slyther actually being right about something. At that moment, he was just thankful Slyther couldn't read his thoughts.

-