oOoOoOo
The Bodyguard
Chapter 26: Hagrid's Memories
Muttering and looking mutinous, Hagrid grabbed the rearing hippogriff by the collar, and pushed him down before the steely talons could strike. Pulling a coil of rope out of one of his voluminous pockets, he looped it through Buckbeak's collar and dragged the hippogriff, which strained to get at Draco, towards the charred ruins of his hut.
With a moan of relief, Draco threw both arms around Harry's waist from behind. He was trembling, and he whispered petulantly into Harry's ear, "Thanks, Harry. Merlin, Hagrid scares the life out of me! He always has ... the barbarian half-giant with his killer monsters-"
Harry cut him off. "Draco," he whispered back. "You don't know Hagrid at all. He's the kindest person I've ever met. He's kind to dangerous magical creatures most people would kill on sight, and he's being incredibly kind to you."
"To me?" Draco was incredulous.
"Yes! Use your eyes! Those ruins over there used to be Hagrid's house! He's homeless, living in a borrowed room in the castle, because of you," said Harry, glad that the half-giant was some distance away among the pumpkin vines, and surely couldn't hear. "And Dumbledore was practically a father to him. But have you heard Hagrid mention his house, or Dumbledore to you? He's even saving you from Buckbeak, and you nearly had Buckbeak executed."
There was a long pause. The hippogriff was tossing his head, and whinnying with insulted pride. Hagrid stroked his mane, as he tied him to a post.
"You're right. I'm sorry," whispered Draco, and leaned his chin on Harry's shoulder. His arms tightened around Harry's waist and his body pressed against Harry's back. The embrace felt so natural, and so good, but Harry remembered the Vow and his shoulders stiffened, even while another part of him softened. He extricated himself from Draco's arms and the Slytherin looked hurt.
Hagrid lumbered back. "I still don' understand why Draco can' jus' bow," he grumbled. But he seemed to be in a slightly better mood than Harry had expected.
"Do you know what a Patronus is, Hagrid?" asked Harry.
"I do. Spiri' guardians is wha' they are. Yeh've go' one shaped like a stag," the half-giant answered.
"Draco's Patronus is shaped like a ferret," explained Harry.
"With human eyes," said Hermione. Now that it was safe, she and Ron had walked closer.
Hagrid shrugged, "So wha' if Draco's Patronus's a ferre'?" he muttered, rather gruffly.
"But don't you see?" asked Harry, in an impassioned voice. "Hippogriffs EAT ferrets."
Hermione clapped her hand to her mouth.
"Even if Draco HAD bowed to Buckbeak, it wouldn't have made any difference. Buckbeak would have tried to kill and eat him just the same," said Harry. The hippogriff was still straining to get to Draco, but the post held.
Hagrid's mouth formed an 'O' of amazement. "Didn' think o' tha'," he admitted.
"There are some other things you should know about Draco," said Harry. He told Hagrid about his rescue from the Death Eater cells, by Draco, and the Slytherin's battle with Voldemort outside the Headquarters. Then he explained how Draco had been forced to breach Hogwart's defences, years ago, because Voldemort had threatened to kill his whole family. Finally, he told Hagrid what had happened to Draco's mother.
Hagrid began to sniffle and pulled a dirty handkerchief the size of a towel out of his pocket. "Los' me Mum too. But no' as horr'bly," he sobbed. "Yeh poor thing, 'm so sorry!"
"Thanks. I'm sorry too-" Draco began, nervously twisting the silver ring on his finger and clearly bewildered by Hagrid's sudden mood change. He yelped with shock when Hagrid grabbed him in a sympathetic hug. Harry caught a glimpse of his pale, panicking face under Hagrid's elbow, along with several dead ferrets the half-giant had forgotten he was wearing.
"Could I please look at your memories of Snape now, Hagrid?" asked Harry, hoping to separate them before Draco said something he regretted.
The half-giant released Draco, who looked dizzy from being squeezed. "If yeh wan'. Wha' do yer wan' ter look a' them fer?" he asked curiously.
Harry wondered how much he should tell Hagrid. He watched Draco sidle away from the half-giant, shrink his trunk, and slip it into his pocket. At length Harry replied, "I suspect Dumbledore knew he was going to be killed by Snape. He may have even planned it." Both Hermione and Hagrid stared at him with wide eyes. Harry was astonished to see Hagrid liked the idea.
"Professor Dumbledore planned his death?" Hagrid asked thoughtfully, scratching his beard. "Tha' sounds like more him. Organised, Dumbledore was, an' he always knew wha' was goin' on. Never seemed righ' tha' he was taken by su'prise."
"I'm almost certain he wasn't," said Harry. "But I need to look at your memories for proof, Hagrid."
"Go 'head. Professor Dumbledore, used ter look in me head some'imes, an' I know wha' ter expec'," said Hagrid good-naturedly. He sat down, until his eyes were on level with Harry's, and crossed his tree-trunk thick legs.
Harry stared into Hagrid's beetle-black eyes. "Think of Snape and Dumbledore," he said. Legilimens, he thought, and the world disappeared.
The Great Hall of Hogwarts was decked in green branches and there wasn't a student in sight. An orchestra on the podium played fast music. Amid the throng of adult guests, an enormous, hairy half-giant, a greasy-haired man, and a tartan-clad elderly lady sat at a table, nursing Firewhiskeys and watching the dance floor, where a tall wizard, with long, white hair and beard, was performing an energetic dance, somewhere between a Scottish reel and tap dancing, with a lady who was wearing sparkly, high heeled shoes.
"Professor Dumbledore KNOWS he shouldn't dance after drinking Firewhiskey," said Professor McGonagall severely. "Remember last year's Midsummer Ball, when he spontaneously Transfigured everyone else on the dance floor into baboons?"
"A' leas' he's no' pole dancin' any more," chuckled Hagrid.
"We all know who Transfigured that pole onto the dance floor," said McGonagall severely. She narrowed her eyes at Snape, whose face had suddenly become unreadable.
A small baboon, wearing Madam Rosmerta's sparkly, high-heeled shoes, scuttled past. The teachers groaned...
Harry surfaced from Hagrid's memory. "What did you see?" asked Ron. Harry told them and soon his friends were laughing.
"Professor Dumbledore threw good parties," said Hagrid reminiscently. "Bu' they were kind o' messy, wha' with all the baboons. 'E did cheetahs one year..."
"It's funny, Hagrid, but you have to admit it's not much help," said Hermione, after they'd stopped laughing.
"Sorry," said Hagrid. "Harry told me ter think abou' Professor Snape an' Professor Dumbledore, an' tha's wha' came up."
"Do you have any memories of them fighting in the Forbidden Forest?" asked Harry.
Hagrid looked thoughtful and nodded. "I was tryin' no' ter listen. They was havin' a private cha'..." He stared into Harry's eyes, and Harry thought the word, Legilimens. Again, the world disappeared.
Being a half-giant, stalking fearlessly and silently, through the misty, midnight forest, was nothing like being human. Through Hagrid's senses, Harry could see in the dark, he could hear for hundreds of metres around, and he knew nothing in the forest - a herd of centaurs, a pack of werewolves or a cluster of Acromantulas - could beat him in a fight. Harry had a flash of understanding why Hagrid exposed his students to such dangerous magical creatures - to Hagrid they weren't dangerous. The slash of a hippogriff's steely talons could hurt the half-giant, but not kill him. A dragon breathing fire was interesting, not deadly. Full humans were vulnerable in ways Hagrid couldn't even comprehend.
But Hagrid was steadfastly ignoring the two familiar voices in the clearing up ahead. He loved and trusted the owners of those voices, and he knew they had come there, as they always had before, to talk privately.
Suddenly the voices rose in an argument, and to his incredulous horror, Hagrid saw Snape shaking Dumbledore by the shoulders. The half-giant's jaw dropped and he listened, despite himself. Though meetings in the forest between the two professors were a regular occurrence, they had never fought.
"You're taking me too much for granted. I WON'T DO IT!" screamed Snape, his face wild and demented.
"I ORDER YOU TO DO IT, SEVERUS!" For the first time Hagrid and Harry had ever seen, Dumbledore was shouting in a rage, and Snape's hands dropped from limply away from the Headmaster's shoulders. After a moment, Dumbledore mastered himself, and said in far more controlled but equally firm voice, "You agreed to do it and that's final. I want you to keep investigating the students in your house, Severus-" Then, the words became indistinguishable again, as Hagrid forced himself not to listen...
Harry released his Legilimency and the world came back. "I saw Snape and Dumbledore arguing, but I couldn't tell what they were arguing about, Hagrid."
Hagrid looked embarrassed. "Seemed rude ter listen a' the time. So I didn'."
"I think your memory is intact, but I can't access it properly through Legilimency." Harry sighed. "If only we had a Pensieve."
"A Pensieve? Dumbledore had one o' those," said Hagrid.
"Yes, I know," said Harry frustratedly. "But he kept it up in the Headmaster's office and that's all locked up-"
"'S'not there now," interrupted Hagrid. "The Pensieve belonged ter Dumbledore, no' Hogwarts. When Dumbledore died, most o' his stuff wen' ter his brother, Aberforth."
"You mean the Pensieve is at the Hog's Head?" asked Ron.
"Ough'a be," Hagrid replied, getting to his feet. "Le's go ter Hogsmeade an' find ou'. Dumbledore was really firm with Professor Snape an' I wan' ter know why."
oOoOoOo
Soon, the gruesome, battered sign of the Hog's Head pub - a severed, bloodstained wild boar's head - was creaking above their heads.
"Not what I expected," said Draco, staring up at the sign in disgust. He was about to push the door open, when Hagrid put a massive hand on his shoulder.
"Yeh should cover yeh face, before yeh go in," he said, pulling a torn, rainbow-striped woollen scarf out of his pocket and dropping it over Draco's head.
Draco lifted the scarf and curled his lip. "Why do I have to wear this?"
"Bes' Aberforth don't see yeh face," answered Hagrid. "Not after wha' happened ter his brother."
"Good idea, Hagrid," said Harry. He helped Draco wrap the gaudy scarf around his head, until only the Slytherin's irate, grey eyes could be seen.
"I'm going to look a right suspicious prat wearing this," Draco muttered, his voice muffled by the scarf.
"Trus' me, yeh won'," said Hagrid.
"You haven't been to the Hog's Head before, have you Draco?" asked Ron.
Draco shook his rainbow-striped head.
"You won't stand out," said Harry. "If anything, the rest of us will stand out because we HAVEN'T covered our faces." He pushed the creaking door open, and they all followed him into the small, gloomy pub.
The Hog's Head had not improved, since Harry had been there last. If anything, it was even dirtier and darker than before. Harry looked around, but didn't recognise any of the shadowy figures sitting near the wall. The man in the grey bandages was back at the bar, sipping Firewhiskey. He glared at them suspiciously as they crossed the small room. Harry ignored him.
Aberforth Dumbledore sidled out of a back room as the quartet and Hagrid approached the bar. He was tall and thin, like his brother, and his long hair and beard were grey, but his face held none of Dumbledore's kindness. He stared at them unwelcomingly, polishing a stained glass with a dirty rag, and his eyes flicked over them, pausing on Harry's scar.
"Le' me do the talkin', okay? I come here all the time," said Hagrid to the quartet. He turned to Aberforth. "Hullo," he said heartily. "We was wonderin' if we could borrow Albus's Pensieve fer a tick."
Heads turned. "Not so loud," muttered Draco nervously. Aberforth's pale, blue eyes, so like, yet unlike, his brother's, focused on him suspiciously, then flicked to Hagrid, as if asking for an introduction, or perhaps, an explanation.
"This is me cousin, Henry, from outta town," invented Hagrid quickly. Harry tried to keep a straight face.
"Please to meet you, sir," said Draco uncomfortably. He held out his right hand.
The barman stared coldly at the hand, but did not take it, and Draco let it drop to his side, frowning behind the scarf. Harry frowned too, and stepped closer to Draco. Aberforth's eyes flicked to Harry again, then he glared at Hagrid. "Pensieve's out the back," he said, at length. Irritably, he pushed a little gate open, so they could all walk behind the bar.
The back room was even dirtier than the front room. They dodged around dusty cases of Firewhiskey, and bottles of Butterbeer, leaking their sticky contents onto the stone floor. In the centre was a large table, and sitting on the table, surrounded by dusty tankards lying on their sides, was the Pensieve, casting spangles of light on the cobwebbed ceiling.
Harry pulled out his wand, and realised, at the same moment, that though he knew how to view memories in a Pensieve, he didn't how to extract them from someone's head. "Excuse me, are you any good at removing memories? We need one of Hagrid's," he asked Aberforth, who'd been just about to walk back into the bar.
With an insufferable air of charity, Aberforth turned back from the door, pulled out his own wand and tugged the wispy memory from Hagrid's head. He dunked it into the Pensieve with an ungracious flourish, and stalked out of the room, without a backward look. The door banged shut behind him.
"Have any of you ever used a Pensieve before?" asked Harry, stirring the misty basin with his wand. The silvery substance inside began to swirl rapidly. He heard people muttering no, around him, but he didn't take his eyes off the basin, as the memory took form. Now he could see the Forbidden Forest, as though he were flying high above it. "Looks like the right memory," Harry murmured to himself. He looked up at his friends. "You need to bend over the bowl, until your nose touches the liquid. Then you'll fall into the memory."
"Can we all go in there?" asked Hermione, looking at the Pensieve with curiosity, then looking around, as if wondering if they'd all fit.
"I don't see why not," replied Harry. "You first, Hagrid."
oOoOoOo
Dumbledore and Snape were sitting on a rotten log, in the middle of a clearing in the Forbidden Forest. From their companionable silence, and the way the memory Hagrid, walking nearby, strove to ignore them, it was easy to see that their meetings were a frequent event, though they hardly spoke a word to each other in public.
Snape was working the corks out of a couple of fancy, mauve glass bottles, and when they came loose, with a soft pop, he handed one bottle to Dumbledore, who took a swig of the dark liquid inside and smiled.
"Trust a ex-Potions Master to brew the best Double Chocolate Stout," said Dumbledore contentedly. "Delicious, as always, Severus."
"With your sweet tooth, Headmaster, it's a wonder you've got any teeth left in your head after living a hundred and fifty years," said Snape. His tone was snide, but pleased.
Dumbledore raised his bottle in a toast. "To the business at hand..."
Snape raised his bottle as well. "To the business..."
Their bottles clinked together, and they drank. Then Dumbledore sighed, and rested his bottle on his lap. "Severus, you've known the boy all his life. How ... enthusiastically ... will he try to complete the task Voldemort has set him? Will I be walking down a dark corridor, one night, and find the boy lying in wait to kill me?"
Snape shuddered, perhaps at the name. "Very unlikely, Headmaster," he sneered, resting his bottle on the log. "That would require a Gryffindor's lack of subtlety, and the boy is, mercifully, Slytherin through and through."
"I'm relieved. I didn't want to have to shoot one of my own students down," said Dumbledore, ignoring the slur against his house. He took another swig of Double Chocolate Stout, clearly in a happier frame of mind.
"But the boy is getting increasingly desperate," said Snape softly. He got to his feet and started to pace, his robes sweeping the dry leaves of the forest floor. "I can confirm that the poison and the necklace were his."
"I thought as much," said Dumbledore sadly.
Snape paused in his pacing. "Weak attacks!" he whispered. "The poison and the necklace had only the faintest chance of succeeding. Considering I have seen flashes of brilliance, on the occasions the boy cares to use his brain, I believe his heart isn't in it, Headmaster. He's not a killer."
Dumbledore nodded, but didn't look surprised.
Resuming his pacing, Snape said silkily: "At first, he relished the idea of being a Death Eater, and killing in the Dark Lord's name. He wanted to take revenge on those he thought responsible for putting his father into Azkaban."
"It was Voldemort, if you really get down to it, who put his father into Azkaban."
Snape shuddered. "I could hardly say that to him, Headmaster. Besides, you know what mind games the Dark Lord plays with new inductees..."
Dumbledore frowned and nodded.
"But now, I believe the reality of being a Death Eater is sinking in. He is caught between an impossible and shameful assassination, and the murder of his entire family, should he fail. Indeed, I believe he is starting to realise that it was the annihilation of his family that the Dark Lord intended all along."
"Riddle's Diary," murmured Dumbledore, staring at the ground.
"Precisely. The Dark Lord doesn't forgive. The boy's father is much safer in Azkaban," said Snape.
Noticing the tension in Snape's voice, Dumbledore looked up. "The boy's parents are your best friends," he stated compassionately.
Snape make a jerking motion with his head, but didn't speak. His robes billowed around him, as he paced, as graceful as a black panther in a cage.
"Has the boy asked you for help?"
"No," said Snape, his voice full of scorn. "He thinks I want to steal his glory. He wishes to prove himself."
There was silence for a moment. "The boy always struck me as someone with low self-esteem, Severus," said Dumbledore.
"Abysmally low, Headmaster. He constantly compares himself to his father or Harry Potter, and always finds himself wanting." In one, sleek movement, Snape sat back down on the log.
"Harry Potter? Surely he's in the wrong house for that?" asked Dumbledore, chuckling in amazement.
"If only. He's obsessed. You should hear what I have to listen to," Snape's voice took on a childish, petulant tone, "Harry Potter this, precious Potter that, snotty Potter won't even speak to me but he's best friends with a Blood Traitor, snobby Potter wouldn't shake my hand, did you see in the paper today what Potter's gotten away with now?" Snape's voice went back to its usual, silky sneer. "The boy nearly committed verbal suicide on the Hogwart's Express, by boasting in public about being a Death Eater, when he guessed Potter was hiding in his carriage."
"Most indiscrete," said Dumbledore, his face set in serious lines. "Who heard him?"
"Apart from Potter, only the boy's friends, and they would never betray him." Snape frowned. "Sometimes, I wish I could perform Silencio on the boy, Headmaster. Or get Potter out of both our sights!"
Dumbledore sighed. "It's a shame they're not friends." He rubbed a finger over his lips. "I seem to recall their parents fought constantly with each other, while they were at Hogwarts. We both know how that changed when they left." Snape's knuckles went white around his bottle. "Maybe, if the boy apologized and controlled his prejudices..." Dumbledore was looking very hard at Snape when he spoke, but Snape was not looking at him.
"Potter would have to control his temper and his own prejudices first," came Snape's contemptuous sneer. "It would require the magical equivalent of a boot to the head for both of them." He took a swig of his stout and glared at the bottle, as though it were at fault.
Dumbledore sighed again. "They're so young," he said, with the sort of sad - state - of - youth - of - today tone only those over a hundred and fifty can manage.
There was silence for a time, as if both men were pondering whether those they were talking about would have a chance to get old. Suddenly, Snape spoke, his voice so soft Harry could hardly hear him.
"I called you here, because I wanted to discuss that promise I made to you, Headmaster."
"Did you?" asked Dumbledore. His voice was still kind and gentle, but his face was suddenly unreadable.
"You take it too much for granted that I will do what you ask. I made an unforgivable error-"
"On the contrary, Severus," interrupted Dumbledore jovially. "Your interactions with the Death Eaters have been sheer genius. You have risen high in Voldemort's esteem, while subtly thumbing your nose at his every order. When Wormtail was installed as your servant, you made him clean your house! You forced the man who betrayed the Potters, murdered Cedric Diggory, troubled you at school, and was sent to your house to spy on you, to fetch your drinks and wait on you hand and foot! Considering your knowledge of Dark Magic, and the things you could have done to Wormtail instead, you showed nothing but class, Severus. Pure class!"
The tiniest smirk crossed Snape's face, and a tinge of colour rose in his sallow cheeks. "Not bad for a fatherless kid from the Manchester slums," he whispered, sounding pleased for the first time. Then his face fell. "But I am referring, as you know full well, to the Unbreakable Vow the boy's mother made me take." Dumbledore looked as though he were about to speak, but Snape didn't let him get a word in. "I used Legilimency, but she was hard to read. She was thinking so desperately about her son, that I could only discover he had an impossible task centred around you. I assumed the boy's task was merely to fetch Gryffindor's sword. For the Dark Lord's last-"
"Don't say the word, Severus," cautioned Dumbledore.
Snape nodded and took a deep breath. "Once I'd bluffed that I knew the Dark Lord's plan, I couldn't go back on my word, Headmaster, and refuse to take the Unbreakable Vow, without both of them suspecting-"
"We've spoken about this so many times. I forgive you, Severus. In fact, once again I congratulate you. You stand to gain greater trust and power than anyone else so far," said Dumbledore, with a cheerful smile. His voice sounded even calmer, and more courteous than usual, in comparison to Snape's passionate whisper.
Snape started to pace again, his hands behind his back, holding his billowing robes down. "When I promised to obey you, I thought I would be the one making sacrifices, not you, Headmaster."
A serene smile crossed Dumbledore's face and his eyes twinkled. "Why should a young man make sacrifices, when a barmy, old codger like myself, can make them instead? You sound like you don't even mind-"
"I DESERVE to take the consequences this time!" Snape wheeled around, and cut him off with a fierce whisper. "You've always protected me from the consequences of my actions before. I spent two years as a Death Eater-"
"You were so young, Severus, you were low ranking and you barely did anything. I've said a thousand times, you should chalk it up to adolescent angst and forgive yourself."
"I won't!"
Dumbledore stared at Snape compassionately. "You're a thousand times harder on yourself than you are on others, Severus, and that's really saying something," he said. Standing up stiffly, as though his joints gave him pain, Dumbledore spoke in a much stronger voice. "You think you made an unforgivable mistake, Severus? On the contrary, all this hinges on MY mistake." Dumbledore contemplated his dead, withered hand. "What a typical Gryffindor I was! In my foolish fondness for heroics, I destroyed the ring the moment I laid my hands on it, instead of testing it for Curses first."
"Such enthusiasm was perfectly understandable, Headmaster, and as long as you keep taking the potions I make you-"
But Dumbledore looked him full in the face and cut him off. "The Curse has reached my elbow, Severus."
Snape stared at the old wizard in horror. "Why didn't you tell me?"
"When it reaches my heart-"
"That won't happen!" insisted Snape in a harsh whisper. "I'll change the potions. I'll brew them stronger. I can stop this, Headmaster. I can invent-"
Dumbledore chuckled affectionately. "You are the most effective defender against Dark Magic I have ever known, Severus," he interrupted gently. "But there are some things you can't prevent. Even if you stop the Curse, you can't save me."
Snape stared blankly at him, eyebrows drawn together, as though confused.
"I haven't drunk the elixir in years, Severus. Not since Nick destroyed the Stone," said Dumbledore.
"Headmaster-"
"What do I have left to look forward to now? If I become like Salazar-"
"That won't happen to you, Headmaster."
Dumbledore shook his head. "You can't be sure, Severus. Even if I'm spared, have you ever seen the poor souls in St Mungo's Ward for the Clapped Out and Bewildered? Incontinence is the least of their troubles. But even to end up there, I'd have to be impossibly lucky." Dumbledore sighed ruefully. "Word has already gotten out that I'm weakening, Severus. My eventual fate will be to end up in a Death Eater torture chamber, which will make St Mungo's look like heaven by comparison. No, this is the best way by far, Severus. I'm quite delighted with how well things have worked out!" He beamed and rubbed his living hand, and dead hand together, as if contemplating something joyful.
"You're just pretending not to mind, to make it easier on me," whispered Snape. His voice shook.
"I truly don't mind, Severus," said Dumbledore, beaming cheerfully.
Staring at the old wizard in distaste, Snape whispered, "I mind: Headmaster. How can you ask me to do this? I won't do it." He was breathing faster, every muscle in his body was clenched and his lips drew back from his yellow, uneven teeth in a snarl.
"It's all right, Severus."
"It's not all right."
"I want you to do it. I know you'll do it." There was a mild hint of warning in Dumbledore's voice.
Snape's voice rose in fury. "You're taking me too much for granted. I WON'T DO IT!" he suddenly screamed. With a wild and demented expression on his face, he grabbled Dumbledore by the shoulders and started shaking him.
"I ORDER YOU TO DO IT, SEVERUS!" Dumbledore shouted, his face suddenly terrifying. Snape's hands dropped limply from his shoulders. After a moment, Dumbledore mastered himself. His face became composed, and he said, in far more controlled but equally firm voice, "You agreed to do it and that's final. I want you to keep investigating the students in your house, Severus-"
A twig cracked under the memory Hagrid's foot. Both Dumbledore and Snape flinched and looked around. The memory Hagrid cleared his throat, embarrassed, and kept walking.
"It seems our conversation is not entirely private. We should end it now," said Dumbledore firmly, adding. "You're doing it and that is final, Severus."
Snape's voice was a soft whisper again, but still just as passionate as it has been when he was screaming. "You ... you tricked me! If I'd known what you were going to ask me to do, I NEVER would have agreed to follow your orders!" He buried his face in his hands. "You sly old codger! Why weren't you put into Slytherin, not Gryffindor?" he said in a broken whisper.
"The Sorting Hat did offer to put me in Slytherin first," said Dumbledore mildly, resting his living hand on Snape's shoulder. The Defence Against The Dark Arts teacher raised his face from his hands, black eyes wide. "But I refused," Dumbledore went on. "I'd heard all Slytherins were evil, you see. So it put me into Gryffindor instead." He smiled and took his hand from Snape's shoulder. "Children see the world in such black and white terms, but it is a very, very long time since I was a child, Severus. Too long. I'm looking forward to my new adventure." He gave a twinkling smile. "Goodnight to you." With a final, polite nod, he turned and walked towards the castle.
Snape watched him go, and Harry was stunned to see tears, shining in the moonlight, running down the sharp planes of his face. Snape pulled the hood of his robe over his head, to conceal them, and stalked off in the direction of Hogwarts.
"Told yeh, Dumbledore was really firm with Snape," said the real Hagrid, in Harry's ear. "Whatever they're talkin' abou' made him cry!"
oOoOoOo
Author's Notes: And the plot thickens further! It must have nearly congealed by now! Bwahahahaha! ;-)
Double Chocolate Stout is real, delicious, and my favourite drink. The idea of beer brewed out of dark chocolate may sound horrifying, but trust me, it's wonderful.
Apologies for any eye-bleach required at the thought of Dumbledore pole dancing. Snape put the pole there so he MUST be EVIL! ;-)
I shall now proceed to do my regular, scheduled, begging dance for reviews. Please! (Right kick, left kick.) Please! (Wave arms and shakes hips.) Please! (Arm stand, back double-somersault with one and a half twists in the free position, then cartwheel off stage.) Review! ;-)
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Thank you to the following people for reviewing: Crowley Black, sasunaru lover, Daedalus Plum, Ripuku, talon81, Yueli, ThePotionsMiss, reicheruchan, Bad fairy, Wings of Pheonix Fire, DNAngelhun, Jazzy, Katharina-B, Yellowwolf, Your Mom Is My Heart, Silvermane1, poofsizzle, Fmh, HecateDeMort, black dilemma, claire2007, chinadoll27, Emu Alive and Kicking, Mak Hertz, thrnbrooke, Bad Luck Jynx, NinjaoftheDarkness, Diarhyn Shadows, Iset, nelly452, ProperT, Moyima, Potter's Wifey, Anissina June, catseye348, Moonsign, and GreenEyedCatDragon.
Riku-Rocks: Thanks for your review. What changed in the Vow? Good question!
LunaSky: Thank you for reviewing! Why didn't Buckbeak go after Hermione's otter as well as Draco's ferret? Well, Buckbeak was used to eating ferrets, because that's what Hagrid fed him. Besides, most species of otters are far too big to be bite-sized to a hippogriff. Sea otters weight 45kg or as much as a large dog. (But not as large as Sirius Black! ;-)