Chapter 7: New Green Home

Severus Snape trudged down the stairs, still dazed at what had happened the day before. Though memories of the Death Eater attack were crystal clear in his mind, he could hardly remember what had happened after Brevland took him home- last night, or this morning.

He entered the room to find Brevland sitting at the table, staring at the Evening Prophet from the night before. The headline and main photograph blared in front of his eyes- "Ministry Obtains Picture of right-hand Death Eater-" And someone's memogram of him, wand outstretched, with a dead person in front of him. Ha, Snape thought, right hand man, indeed. More like, a death eater desperately trying to prove himself and, at the same time, never really meaning any of it. Snape thanked his lucky stars- if he had any- for those masks that the Death Eaters wear, and the hoods. Whoever's memory this was had seen directly into his fear-contorted face- mask, thin annoying scar, and all.

Brevland looked up grimly. "Someone saw you," he said, pointing to the picture. Snape's heart beat fast inside him; how did Brevland know what he had done, if he had never told him?

Snape stepped forward, clinching the paper. "Brev. It's not like you think," he said oily. "I tried to-"

Brevland chuckled. "I know, I know. You told me already."

Snape furrowed his brow. He didn't remember telling anyone at all. "I told you? When?"

"Yes! This morning! Don't you remember…? Oh, maybe you were still a bit delirious… yes, that's it…"

Snape sighed. Of course, he thought. Just like me to go crazy under pressure. If only…

"Well, they didn't recognize you. That's good. Except, that scar you've got, anyone'd recognize that now… How did you get that, anyway?"

Snape ran his finger down the thin slash down his cheek, smirking. "Potions accident last month. My knife slipped as I cut the brawroots for a cheering potion," he said simply.

"Oh." Brevland glanced at the paper again. "You're the Potions one at Hogwarts, aren't you? You always liked that class…"

"Yes. I do enjoy the placidity of it- a nice counter to my task for Albus. But teaching it… All I can say is that very few students appreciate it." Snape thinned his lips, as if recalling an irritating memory.

"You're in the paper again," Brevland said off-handedly. "Indirect reference, but still…"

Snape stared at the short corner-article in the Evening Prophet that Brevland had pointed to. "Brev-" he said, sneering, "That's an article on Potter, not me." The caption read, 'Minister of Magic Takes Harry Potter from Muggle Home; Ministry Looks for Relatives.'

"No… down here, it says something about him doing potions homework for you."

Snape read the passage that Brevland indicated.

Loreen Skeeter, our special Daily Prophet correspondent, informs us that this was due to an unfortunate explosion when Potter attempted to brew a potion for summer homework on a stove (muggle cooking device). It appears that the Boy-Who-Lived he will go all-out in loyalty to his fine Potions Master, Severus Snape.

"Ha. No wonder that boy's so arrogant. He's always written up in the paper for some reason or another," Snape muttered.

"Did you really assign them a potion over holidays, Severus? That's quite interesting… very creative…"

"No, not creative. It's just other professors being mundanely ignorant enough not to assign practical homework when they can. It's perfectly legal- no flittering wandwork needed."

"Harry Potter's not arrogant," Brevland said, switching subjects again.

Snape rolled his eyes. "Honestly, Brevvie, you haven't even met him! You'd have no idea how he struts around the halls all the time. Perfectly normal for him to go and try to cause trouble on a muggle stove like that."

"I did meet him! And I don't think his Uncle was letting him do anything. All his stuff was locked-"

Snape glared at him piercingly. "And how would you know?"

"I said! I did meet him. Fudge sent me to go get him when his uncle deserted him at a park. We went to go get his stuff, and-"

"Okay, okay. I get the point."

"Wait- so if you're a professor, then you've been at Hogwarts recently, right?"

"Well, yes… why?"

Brevland broke into a huge smile. "How's the Slytherin quidditch team doing?" He asked with relish. He had been one of Slytherin's beaters for quite some time.

Snape frowned. "I'm just remembering how much you liked to change subjects, Brev-" Snape's comrade grinned wider- "Don't start it again!"

"Well, how are they doing?"

Snape pursed his lips. "You might've known that we didn't have Quidditch matches this past year, due too… circumstances…" Brevland nodded, and Snape coldly continued, "Before that, would have been a lot better had Draco Malfoy not bought his way onto the team."

Brevland cocked his head. "Draco Malfoy? I'd think he'd be good, what with his father winning us practically every game-"

"No. Draco's forte is found in his superior intellect, his wit and knowledge, his rare appreciation for-"

"Okay, okay-" Brevland started in exasperation.

"Not athletic stunts on the Quidditch field."

"But I at least would have thought… with his father…"

Snape shook his head. "No. My interest in Hogwarts Quidditch has declined greatly since it became such a trivial contest."

"Oh? What happened to it?"

"Well, it basically started with Potter- he did inherit his father's talent for it, if I must say so myself, but has also inherited that unearthly conceited behavior and attitude about it."

"Really, now?"

"Yes. Minerva- that's Professor McGonagall- she's not helping. She picked him for the team in his first year- probably just assuming that he'd be a valuable addition. She got him a good broom and all- which, I daresay, has already been replaced by a Firebolt. After this incident, Draco and his father must have been swallowed with Slytherin team spirit and a need to make a difference (he is quite a noble boy), for Lucius bought the whole team brooms about equivalent to Potter's. In return, the captain offered Draco the open spot- the Seeker position. A sad misunderstanding, if you ask me."

"That's too bad. It was always so fun to be handed the Quidditch cup each year. It always softened the rivalry, when Slytherin always came out to be the best-"

Brevland was interrupted by a brown barn owl, sweeping down and dropping a letter on Snape's head. Snape narrowed his eyes, glaring at the owl, who hooted importantly and flew off again. Snape gingerly lifted the letter down.

"Uh-oh… It's the Ministry of Magic's seal…" Brevland murmured. Snape broke the seal with shaking fingers and slid the parchment out, fearing the worst in what might be written there.

Dear Prof. Severus Snape,

On behalf of the Ministry of Magic, Minister Cornelius Fudge requests your presence today in his office. Your attendance is essential to our intentions and you would be doing us and Wizarding Britain a great service by accepting his invitation. You were contacted at your residence, but you were unavailable at the moment. Once again, your presence at the Ministry as soon as possible would be greatly appreciated.

Sincerely,

Cornelius Fudge

Minister of Magic

Brevland raised an eyebrow at Snape. "Well, it doesn't exactly sound like they're trying to arrest you… Reckon it'd be safe to go?"

Snape still stared at the letter, eyes narrowed. "No, it doesn't have that tone at all. So formal. '…Requests your prescence… essential to our intentions…" Snape muttered. "It does not help my curiosity that the reason is not mentioned. I can't help but want to go, if only to see what they need me for."

Brevland shrugged. "I bet you could go, if I get that scar of your face. Fudge might recognize it. I'm a bit curious, too, anyway."

Snape sighed and put down the letter. "Yes, I suppose so." Snape cast a quick glamourie charm on his face, covering up the line across his face most effectively. "It says 'as soon as possible.' Shall we go?"

"Yes, yes, why don't we? But we have to apparate- we can't take the floo network."

Snape gave a rare, thin-lipped smile, recalling a humorous memory. "Slytherins never use floo… Slytherins never use floo…"

The two men stood up and walked outside. "How about… East entrance to the Ministry."

"That sounds good. Three, two, one…" And they disappeared from Brevland's unkempt lawn. Little did they know what odd news lay before them.

"What. Did. You. Say???" Harry stared in disbelief at the Minister of Magic.

"Oh, there's just been a misunderstanding all these years, that's all," he said in reply. "Your father was Severus Snape and your mother married James Potter while she was pregnant with you," he said, shrugging.

Harry narrowed his eyes. "But that doesn't make any sense. Mum would've known if I had a different father. And- and, well, my Patronus is my dad's animagi form."

Fudge peered at Harry. "Animagi form?" He asked suspiciously.

"Um… never mind… But, I'm just so… Not like Snape! He hates me, I'm in Gryffindor (not Slytherin)-" Ron could hear Harry mutter, "And Snape's a slimy greasy git" under his breath.

"It was all a misunderstanding, that's all," the Minister repeated. "You probably got many traits from your mother. Anyhow, I must call Severus, we need to know if he'd be willing to take you in-"

"Oh, no!" Harry exclaimed, a bit louder than he meant to.

Fudge sighed. "Harry, he's your closest relative, and we need you to live with a blood relative." Fudge extracted a pinch of orange powder from inside his cloak and made his way to the fire.

Harry leaned back, pouting, against the wall, but said nothing.

"Severus Snape!" Fudge called into the flames. Harry was reminded to one and a half years ago, when Snape himself had summoned Remus Lupin to his office in a similar fashion.

When Snape did not answer, Fudge tried again- still no answer. He turned around, sighing. "We'll have to owl him," he said, and sat down to draft a letter. "Can you go owl this to Severus Snape?" Fudge asked the potion-brewer. The Ministry worker got up and left with the letter. "Thank you. Now, do you three want to come to my office? It's just around the corner."

Mr. Weasley, Ron and Harry followed the Minister out of the dank potion chamber and down the hallway to his office. Harry and Ron lagged behind as Fudge and Mr. Weasley struck up their own conversation.

"Sooo…" Began Ron queerly, reminding Harry of the time last year when Harry's name had come out of the Goblet of Fire, "You weren't really eating those candies, were you?"

"I don't know, Ron. I guess not. I didn't remember eating one, but I assumed that I'd eaten one without noticing."

"So, you were just lying to me the whole time, weren't you? Couldn't find the guts in you to tell the truth? Very Slytherin-like, if you ask me…"

"Ron! Please. I really thought I'd unconsciusly eaten one. I had no idea-"

"Sure you did," he said sarcastically, "That's kind of hard to miss, really."

Harry sighed in exasperation. "Ron, please! Don't go on me like that. Remember last year? And I really don't fancy having to go live with Snape-"

Ron's sarcastic expression broke. "It's not fair! First my brother dies, and then I find out my best friend has been lying to me so much the same time I lose him."

"Ron! I wasn't lying."

Ron sighed. "Even so! You're off to live with Snape now, all because everyone's so uppity about you being perfectly safe from You-Know-Who, when he killed my own brother the other day." Harry audibly heard the anguish in Ron's voice.

Their conversation was halted when they arrived at Fudge's office. They stepped in after the adults and took a seat. This time, they were silent as Fudge and Mr. Weasley went through some adoption papers.

About half an hour later, a knock came on the door. It opened, revealing two sour-faced Slytherins.

Snape and Brevland simultaneously appeared on the lawn in front of the east entrance to the Ministry of Magic. Snape touched a hand to his scar and asked, "Are you sure you can't see it?"

Brevland smiled a bit. "No, of course not. I just hope the spell doesn't fade away. Now, come on!"

Brevland hurried into the building, Snape trailing him. "You'll have to show me the way- I don't know this place very well."

"Sure," said Brevland, and attempted to explain the directions to Fudge's office. However, it only seemed like a large winding rabbit burrow (and part of it probably was underground), in which Brevland was a rabbit that knew its way around perfectly.

When they reached Fudge's office door, Brevland knocked a couple times but opened it without waiting for an answer. Snape nervously flattened his long hair over where his scar was, just in case the glamourie charm wore off.

The door creaked open even without Brevland's slight push on it. They stepped into the office, at first only noticing Fudge at his desk (whom they walked up to).

"You wanted me, Cornelius?" Snape said sourly.

Fudge gave a very faint smile and looked up. "Why, yes- we need to know if you'd be willing to take in Harry here for the rest of this summer and, possibly, next summer." He motioned over to an equally disturbed-looking Harry Potter.

Snape first blinked- hadn't noticed anyone else besides Brevland and Fudge- there were also Potter, Arthur Weasley and his son. He only knew that it was youngest Weasley son because it was Potter's little sidekick. But, he was still just an indistinguishable Weasley like all the rest, as Snape perceived him.

Then he scowled. "Do you really think I would take that arrogant little brat?" He asked with a mimicing tone.

Fudge's smile dimmed, as he took out some papers. "Well, then do you know any relatives of yours who would be willing to take him in similarily?" He sighed.

"No. No Snapes in their right minds will agree to it."

Fudge's frown deepened. "Severus, I know you dislike the boy, but you're basically all we have left. All his other relatives are muggles, and it would be extremely preferable for him to stay with a wizard. You know he needs to stay with some of his relatives."

"Relatives? Then why don't you go find some cousin of the other Potter… Why did you ask me if you wanted me to do it anyway?" Snape paused, and a sneer crept over his face. "That boy is not related to me!"

Fudge handed over a sheet of paper- an obvious product of a Relative Potion (Snape had encountered this potion many times before), with his name embossed at the head in sparkling green ink. The minister also showed him the previous spell used from his wand; a miniature head of Snape sprouted out and then faded to me.

Snape's outward demeanor presented a disgusted and outraged Slytherin, but inside, his heart was pounding so profoundly that he was sure it shook the crumpled newsprint picture in the robe-pocket above.

Fudge said something, but Snape didn't hear him; he nearly fainted.

Harry sighed as trudged up a grimy little hill to a small house- well, maybe it could be better described as a cottage- towing his trunk behind him (which was quite hard indeed). The cottage had and odd structure remniscient of a warped two-story ice-cream cone; yet, for some reason, it looked like a completely normal little house. Harry was sure that it was fixed up with magic. Snape pushed the little, pokey wrought-iron gate open and lead Harry up to the door.

As soon as they got inside, Snape pointed down to a cluster of doors. "You can go somewhere over there as long as it's not my room," he said in a monotone voice. "Stay out of my way because I am very busy with other things that could be urgent and unexpected." Snape left him with that, and turned on heel, beelined for the door.

Harry dragged his things into a spare room- the one with the fewest Slytherin colors in it- and sat down on his trunk. I wonder what life will be like now, he thought dejectedly, fingering the smooth holly of his wand. Just as his eyelids began to droop (as it was getting quite late at night), a random thought passed through his mind. Did Dumbledore ever know about it? But he didn't get to remember, much less ponder, his question. Instead, his eyes finally gave into the weight and he fell fast into slumber.