Chapter 14: Return of the "Death Eater"
Harry had collapsed and dozed off although he couldn't enter the Gryffindor Tower. But despite his exhaustion, he kept on getting interrupted. First, Peeves had swooped past and honked into his ear; then Filch, who had been chasing Peeves, discovered him- out of bed.
"Detention with me tomorrow night at eight! A student out of bed... troublemaking brats..."
Blinking the sleep from his eyes, Harry scrambled up. "It's not my fault! I can't get into the Common Room! I don't know the password-"
"A likely story!" Filch snarled. "You were waiting to sneak into another house's dormitory. Off to your own place, and remember your detention!"
Harry tried to stutter that this was his own dormitory, and that he had nowhere else to go, but Filch pulled a broom from somewhere and started shooing him down the corridor.
After stumbling around the hall for a moment, Harry returned and sat down again, his eyelids heavy as metal.
After a little while he heard faint footsteps pass him. He tried to open his eyes and see who it was, but he couldn't... he couldn't even move his body...
People were walking by him, whispering behind their hands. Harry glanced down the corridor, feeling very happy.
"I commend you, Lucius," he said in a papery whisper.
"Thank you, my lord."
"Tell me who..."
Malfoy stepped away from the swarm of Death Eaters and leaned casually against the wall. "I identified him as Tiberius Strudd."
Harry thinned his lips. "Excellent. Strudd could easily impersonate Wormtail. Hopefully, the Ministy will not deal with him too harshly. They might even believe that Dumbledore and Potter are in on the joke! Brilliant, I must say."
A satisfied smirk spread across Malfoy's face.
"You have certainly dealt well with the Ministry. You shall be rewarded for this. Since the Ministry is, in essence, on our side, I want our attentions turned... elsewhere."
"My lord... should I be able to help-"
"You have helped quite enough, Lucius," Harry interjected. "I want him... he and Dumbledore have thwarted me, tricked me, deceived me cd... it must be the prophecy! I shall take action immediately."
"May I suggest-"
"I feel him! He will die, Lucius, he will die..."
"Potter!"
Harry's eyes snapped open as he found himself lying on a very hard stone floor, sunlight streaming in the windows.
"What on earth... Potter!"
Professor McGonagall was bending over him, white-faced, clutching her heart.
"Professor!" Harry rasped. "Voldemort- and M-Malfoy- and-"
"Stop babbling, Potter! What are you doing here? Are you alright?"
Harry shakily nodded, realizing he was sprawled out in the middle of the hall. Neville stood behind McGonagall, looking alarmed. "I- I'm sorry, Professor- I didn't know the password to Gryffindor Tower-"
"But what were you screaming about?" McGonagall interrupted shrilly.
Harry unsteadily pulled himself up to a sitting position, mumbling, "Nightmare, professor."
"Up to the hospital wing with you, young man," said McGonagall, but before she could continue, Harry felt a cold hand on his shoulder and a low voice say,
"He must report to Professor Dumbledore."
Harry twisted around to see Snape towering over him.
"S-Severus! Look at the state he's in! He-"
"Potter must report to Professor Dumbledore," Snape repeated. "Up, boy."
Harry slowly stood up, staring up at his father. It seemed as if he hadn't seen Snape for ages, but slowly, the memories from the previous night trickled in. Snape looked as formidable as ever, dressed in black with a billowing cape. Neville looked terrified.
Professor McGonagall, however, didn't look disturbed to see Snape appear out of the shadows.
"Of course, Minerva, I shall see him to the infirmiry if need be- after he reports to Professor Dumbledore."
McGonagall stood frozen as Snape strode away with Harry at his heels.
After many long minutes, Snape said to Harry:
"I am disappointed that you wouldn't fetch a professor if you didn't have your common room password. I expect better from my son."
Harry didn't know what to say.
"Nevertheless, I should have accompanied you after last night's events. You should expect better from your father."
Snape remained silent until they reached the Headmaster's gargoyle. He said the password, and they stepped onto the revolving stairs.
Without knocking, Snape pushed open the oak door.
Dumbledore was sitting at his desk. His face was creased with lines; Harry had never noticed his headmaster look so old or tired before.
"Severus," said Dumbledore, giving them a warm smile. "Harry."
"Harry could not enter Gryffindor Tower last night," Snape stated without preamble. "I believe that he also- you know."
Dumbledore stroked his beard, looking a bit grave. "Did you dream anything last night, Harry?"
Harry blinked. "Well, yes." He didn't understand why Snape was so worried.
He was taken aback when Snape bellowed, "I told you he should have stayed with us! It was too evident."
"Severus-"
"And to think, he was lying in the middle of the hall! Alone!"
"Severus, I-"
"You knew yourself what could have happened! Why didn't-"
"Severus! Enough!"
Snape was breathing very heavily, and his hand was clamped tight on Harry's shoulder.
"Harry, please explain your dream," Dumbledore said quietly.
"I... I can't really remember," Harry muttered.
"Well?" Snape growled. "Do you remember anything?"
"It had Voldemort in it."
Snape pressed his lips together. "Naturally."
"And I remember- what's that name- someone called Tiberius Strudd. Voldemort was talking about him."
"Tiberius Strudd!" Snape cried.
"Harry, it is often difficult to remember details of dreams and visions," Dumbledore said. "More commonly, a dream leaves one with moods, emotions. Do you remember what you were feeling? Perhaps, what you were thinking?"
Harry bit his lip nervously. "I felt happy. Except it wasn't me. It was Voldemort. I was Voldemort. It was terrible."
"Albus, this is really-"
Dumbledore held up his hand. "Yes, Severus, I understand-"
"What is going on?" Harry protested. He could feel frustration festering inside of him. "You two know something, and you're not telling me."
Dumbledore sighed. "Harry, after you and Severus escaped from Voldemort last night, Severus will not be rejoining the Death Eaters as a spy."
"You're right I'm not..." Snape interjected.
"Voldemort will try to reach you, Harry, in other ways. I believe he will try to strengthen his link with you, to reach inside your thoughts and emotions. As long as you're near other people, you're quite safe. Last night we believed that you would be asleep in the same room as your roommates, but since you weren't, he could penetrate your dreams."
Harry was stunned.
"And I don't understand why we didn't go with you to the common room entrance," Snape growled.
"I needed to follow Fudge to the Ministry, to make sure that Peter Pettigrew was registered correctly," Dumbledore replied. "Unfortunately, Lucius Malfoy had already appeared, claiming that Peter was, in fact, a certain Tiberius Strudd in disguise."
"Tiberius Strudd!" Snape exclaimed. "What a load of hogwash! Strudd eloped to Italy five years ago!"
"Did he really..." Dumbledore murmured thoughtfully. "Anyway, more importantly, Harry, I must emphasize the need to stay with other people, especially when you are asleep. Voldemort cannot reach you then." Dumbledore smiled softly. "With that said, Severus, would you accompany Harry to the Great Hall? I'm sure you wouldn't want Harry going by himself..."
"I still don't know the Gryffindor password," Harry protested.
Dumbledore furrowed his brow and replied, "I believe that it was 'mandrake toe,' last time I checked. Now, your father here agrees with me that you need a hearty breakfast. So- yes- off you go..."
Harry took one last look at Dumbledore and followed Snape down the revolving stairs. He was exhausted, and loaded with questions. Something was wrong, other than Voldemort's plan to 'penetrate' him. Why had Dumbledore been giving him a calculating, discerning look? And why did Harry have a deep, instinctive feeling that something was definitely not right?
Harry trudged toward the Great Hall, where he sat down at a deserted end of the Gryffindor table. A few first years scooted further away from him, whispering to themselves and taking frightened glances at Harry.
Harry ate the rest of his breakfast in silence. He looked down the table, and he could make out Hermione and Ginny laughing with each other. He wished more than anything to be back with his friends, to be back laughing as the almost-careless son of James Potter. But that wouldn't happen soon, Harry knew, since the Gryffindors would not even accept him as a housemate just because of who he was.
He certainly did not mind having Snape as a father. Harry had grown to respect the professor, both for his expertise in potion-making and also his willingness to risk his life for the light. But he was glad, to, that he was still related to Lily and James Potter. Despite the encouragement from his former friends, he couldn't just become a Slytherin overnight, or over a month, or even over a year.
Just as Harry started to think about what Ron might think if he knew that Harry was also James Potter's son, he heard a mocking voice behind him.
"So, Potter. You're all alone now?" Harry didn't look up, but saw Draco Malfoy sneering down at him, with Crabbe and Goyle following stupidly behind him. Harry chose to ignore him completely. "I would have thought that you were too proud to sit down here by yourself. Well, Potter? Are you deaf?"
Harry, knowing that his silence annoyed Malfoy more than any words could have, did not say anything.
Malfoy bent down low and began to whisper to him: "You'll be surprised to find out, Potter, that I have received an invitation."
Harry still didn't reply, but continued to cut his French toast. He wished that Malfoy would just leave him alone. He had enough on his mind already.
"And guess who this invitation was from? It was from your... good friend, that Weasel over there. He invited me to take you into Slytherin, where you really belong. Can you imagine that? I was so- astonished."
Harry couldn't help himself but glance down the long table, where Ron was gaily stuffing pancakes into his mouth. He gritted his teeth together, angrily grinding the bits of French toast.
"Well, Potter," Malfoy continued, "It's obvious that your whole house has betrayed you. You're not even a Potter anymore- frankly, I don't know why I keep calling you that. So, now I extend my own invitation for you to come with me, where a true Snape rightfully belongs. You knew you were wrong, Potter, that day on the train. I warned you not to join them. But I'll forget about that... after all, you didn't know that you weren't a stupid Gryffindor by birth, did you? Slytherin can offer you power..."
Suddenly, Harry felt a wave of anger coursing through him. He snapped up his head and glared straight at Malfoy. "Don't talk about what you don't understand, Malfoy." He breathed heavily and clenched the side of the table, trying to stop himself from doing something rash. Finally, he returned to his French toast.
"Alright, Potter. You're too arrogant to think you might have been mistaken- perhaps, in denial? Well, I won't offer you this again, and let me just remind you that you could have been a great, you could have lived up your clean-blooded, respectable name-"
This time, Harry couldn't control himself. Whipping out his wand and thrusting it towards Malfoy's heart, he snarled, "You try to wonder what I could have been in Slytherin? No, Malfoy, I wouldn't have just been a Snape. I would have been much, much more..."
If Harry had not been in such a state of anger, he would preciously remembered the expression on Malfoy's face at that moment. Mouth partially dropped open, eyes wide open, and face chalk white, Malfoy mumbled something to Crabbe and Goyle before slinking away to the Slytherin table.
As he watched Malfoy return to his table, Harry lowered his wand. He had scared himself with what he said. Why had he said it? It seemed so natural- so natural to watch Malfoy's features contort into fear. But he didn't even know where it came from. He blinked his eyes, and the peculiar sensation of boiling anger- or boiling hatred (Harry couldn't distinguish between the two)- faded away.
Quickly glancing at the Head Table, Harry was somehow relieved that he was sitting so far from them. However, he could see Dumbledore looking his way. He turned back to his breakfast and hurriedly finished it.
In his morning classes, Harry worked alone in Charms and Herbology as had been his habit in the last few weeks. Feeling a little lonesome, he had tried to get a seat next to Neville, but the other Gryffindors had taken the spot already. So Harry was glad when, on the way to Potions, he got to talk to Neville a little.
"What were you dreaming last night?" Neville said hesitantly. "I came down this morning- and you were there- on the ground- screaming- !"
"I was screaming? Were you the one to go get McGonagall?"
"Yeah... I mean, it was really scary. Are you sure you're- you're all right?"
Harry sighed. "It was just a nightmare, Neville. I just fell asleep outside the portrait-hole- I didn't know the password, and I came up after everyone had gone to bed already."
"The password's 'mandrake toe.' Something- something I can remember, for once!" Neville said, smiling a little.
When they reached the dungeon classroom, the Gryffindors and Slytherins took their seats, chattering amongst themselves. None of them, save Harry , were aware of Snape's return, although a rumor had flown around the Hufflepuff house that Snape had been seen at a late-night 7th year history class. Neville had seen Snape early that morning, and forgotten him.
Harry tried to avoid Malfoy, remembering the incident at breakfast. Luckily, he managed to pick a seat on the other side of the room, yet not amidst the other Gryffindors.
When the classroom door was flung open, the class expected Professor Lupin to walk in, as usual. But this time, a familiar, domineering figure strode in. His presence was first met with silence- whether it was stunned silence, or not, one could not have said. Harry quickly glanced in Ron's direction, and to his mild surprise he saw real fear spread across his face. A moment later, Ron's expression turned to one of loathing, and he was the first to speak among the hushed students.
"What are you doing in here, you death eater?" bellowed Ron as he jumped to his feet. "You-"
"Mr. Weasley, sit back down. Twenty points from Gryffindor."
"I can't believe you! You're sick! You killed my brother, you think you can come back here and take points away-" Ron shoved his books back into his bag and made for the door, only to be blocked by the professor.
"You will sit back down, Mr. Weasley, or it will be a detention tonight at eight- with me." Snape pointed a menacing finger back to the desk
This made Ron pause and finally return to his seat. In the stillness that followed, some of the Slytherins were looking secretly pleased that Snape was back; other Slytherins didn't know what to do while the Gryffindors were utterly horrified.
When Snape had made his way back to the front of the room, he stared around the room and said, with a vindictive eye, "You are all here, as you always have been, to learn the art of potion making. And I am here to teach you- or, at least, try to teach you- and nothing else. Anyone who says a word that is not directly related to the potion we are brewing today will suffer a loss of points from their house. Yes, Zabini," Snape continued as he saw the Slytherin's astonishment, "Anyone. No matter their house." Rapping his wand on the blackboard, Snape continued, "Here are the instructions for today's potion. You may begin."
Harry watched his father gaze around the room, and he decided that Snape did not seem to be in the best of moods. Indeed, when the professor arrived at Harry's solitary desk, he betrayed the telltale sign of an angry temper by saying calling him 'Potter.'
"Please find a partner, Potter," Snape said tersely.
Dearly wishing that his father hadn't noticed that one of the Slytherins was also partnerless, Harry replied, "There're an odd number of people today."
Snape's lips thinned, but his expression softened as he continued to watch him. "Very well. See me after class, Harry."
Harry let go a breath that he didn't know he was holding- because his father had let him work alone, and also because he had dropped calling him "Potter."
Harrt set up his cauldron and began to brew the potion... a process that seemed almost natural to him, since he had lately resorted to brewing random potions to get his mind off of things.
Snape seemed to be in a better mood for the rest of the class period, but this gone unnoticed by all the students save Harry. The very little conversation that started was easily quelled whenever Snape passed by, checking to see that everyone was on task. At the end of class, he had his students bottle their potions and turn them in, which was hesitantly done.
Once Snape had swept out of the classroom to his office, leaving a slight air of intimidation behind him, a low but anxious chatter broke out and bags were hurriedly packed.
"Why is he back here?"
"I wonder if the other professors know!"
"Did you see him glare at me? I thought for sure that I was done for!"
"I saw the scar, that scar that they showed in the Daily Prophet."
While packing his ingredients and equipment into his own bag, Harry remembered his father's request that he see him after class. He managed to make his way through his classmates towards the door to Snape's office.
"Don't you dare go in there!" Harry stopped in his tracks and turned around, only to meet an angry Ron in front of him.
Harry replied, "I have the right to visit my father when I want to. Plus, he asked me to." It struck Harry that he probably shouldn't have emphasized his relation to Snape.
"Look," Ron said, red-faced, "You've claimed you were a Gryffindor these past few days and I could have- could have believed you. After all, you were sorted there... and for the last four years... but look. You know that Snape is a death eater and- and a killer. I'm warning you, take one step towards his office and I'll never trust a word you say."
"Well then you'll just have to not trust me, Ron," Harry retorted. He brushed past toward the door to Snape's office.
"You're not the friend I had last year!" Ron yelled after him.
Harry halted, an odd feeling of remorse welling up inside of him. What change did Ron see in him? Was Ron too blinded by Harry's relation to Snape?
The remorse became anger, building up deep inside of him. Hoping to prevent another outburst like he had had at breakfast, Harry chose to ignore Ron. He found himself storming into Snape's office and slamming the door.
Slamming the door did not alarm Harry's father, who sat at his desk writing something. Once Harry realized the racket he had made, he quickly composed himself and said, "Um- sorry, I didn't mean to slam the door." Feeling at ease in the familiar office, he took a chair next to the ingredient cabinets.
For a moment, he didn't think that Snape had heard him, or even noticed him coming in, because he hadn't moved. But a moment later, he turned around and said, "I have not had the chance to... to apologize for my behavior last night. For leading you to Voldemort."
"Well, I'm just glad that you weren't really acting on your own. Actually... I thought that you had really joined the death eaters for real," Harry confessed. "What were you doing all those weeks, anyway?"
"I was in hiding at Brevland's house," Snape replied. "You remember Brevland Bourrucci, don't you? And last night- well, you heard Fudge admit that I wasn't a death eater. Professor Dumbledore reckons it's alright for me to teach again. Anyway, that doesn't matter. How have you been? I've heard some... strange things from Lupin."
"Really?" Harry answered. "Like what?
"Well," Snape continued, "I've heard that you're not getting along with your friends... Weasley, and all those Gryffindors." Snape didn't seem to have any sarcastic tone in his voice.
"Not getting along? That's an understatement!"
Snape took a breath. "Harry- are they angry about me?"
"Well, in a manner of speaking, yes," Harry said, and launched into an explanation of Ron's abandonment of him and the Gryffindors' rejection.
Snape licked his lips, and said, "Now, you know that I despise the Gryffindor house as a whole, and I do not care in the least for those foolhardy students... nevertheless, I care about you, Harry. And if I'm correct, you have been close friends with these people since you came to Hogwarts." Seeing Harry nodding, Snape continued, "I do think that something must be done about this. If they reject you just because you are my son, then I won't mind if you... renounce me in order to regain their trust."
Harry blinked for a minute after that, and then said, "I can't do that! Practically the only thing that's been keeping me going the past few weeks is that I actually have a father. I know you aren't a true death eater. I think that having you here is just as good, maybe better, than having a huge amount of friends. Plus, Neville doesn't distrust me. Dad," Harry added, to emphasize his point.
Snape sighed, and said, "Very well," though Harry could tell that he wouldn't let the matter go so fast. "One more thing, Harry."
Snape slowly stood up and crossed the room. Reaching inside a cabinet, he took out a vial- shaped curiously like a french horn- full of a thick, pinkish-white potion. He poured into a miniscule cauldron the size of Harry's fist, and stirred the substance.
"On the headmaster's request... I would like you dip your finger in this potion."
Harry blinked at the blunt demand. "What is it?"
"This is a potion closely related- but not identical to- the potion that revealed your relatives this summer."
Still, Harry hesitated. "But what does it do?" He was very perturbed when Snape didn't answer him. Instead, Snape asked him once again to stick his finger in the concoction.
When he did so, Harry once again felt the sensation of energy radiating from his finger. Colors began to swirl together: first, a deep red, then green, then gold, then black, then silver. It was quite a bit more colorful than the relative potion.
"You may remove your finger," Snape said.
This time, the color did not vanish when Harry took his finger out.
Without a word, Snape rolled up a piece of parchment and dropped it into the cauldron. Harry watched the roll bob up and down, ink diffusing through the gradient of the paper.
"What does it do?" Harry repeated.
After a moment's silence, Snape replied, "It lists one's various magical fathers. For the headmaster's record."
Harry eyed the bobbing roll of parchment and the vibrant colors churning around it.
"You are excused to lunch now."
As Harry was closing the door, Snape added, "Take care."
Harry glanced once more at his father, lighting a fire beneath the minute cauldron, and headed off to lunch.
Extra tidbit of the day: a spoiler-hint!
Circle the letters or numbers that interrupt the order of the alphabet and they'll spell out the hint (can you tell I like puzzles?)
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ABCDSEFGHEIJKLMNOPVQRSETUVWXRYZABCDUEFGHISJKLMNSOPQRNSTUVAWXPYZABCDEFGEHIJK: LMNO3PQRSTU1VW%XYZ
ABTCDEFGHOIJKLMNOPMQRSTURVWXYZABCIDEFGHDIJKLMNODPQRSTLUVWXEYZABX:DEFGH2IJKLM N3OPQRST%UVWXYZ
ABCDEFGSHIJKLMNIOPQRSTURVWXIYZABCDUEFGHIJSKLMBNOPQRLSTUAVWXCYKZABC:DEFG1HIJK L1MNOPQRSTU%VWXYZ