Erasing Time's Tracks
Chapter 12

Disclaimer: This work of fan-fiction is not intended for personal profit. All characters utilized herein which are not creations of myself belong to J. K. Rowling.

- - -

Harry Potter went with Draco to Madam Pomfrey's Hospital Wing in between the last normal class of the day and Astronomy at night. He'd been grudgingly willing to go, after Draco promised he'd be with Harry during the examination, as the blond needed to get one done, too. The Dursleys had never bothered to take him to a doctor before, not even the time (he distantly recalled) that he'd fallen on the hard pavement after Dudley shoved him. His arm had hurt terribly and he couldn't seem to move it properly. Of course he was chucked into the cupboard under the stairs for that. That afternoon and night, slowly, his arm had somehow put itself right; seeing his arm straighten itself out and become whole again was a miracle he'd treasured for a long time afterwards.

He'd never told Aunt Petunia or Uncle Vernon about that; they'd just been pleased that the little pest wouldn't force them to spend time actually conning the NHS into paying for him. He only knew from the telly what medical examinations ought to be like – with prodding and poking and generally, if the patient didn't want something found out, the doctor found out anyway. Being medically examined was an entirely new experience for Harry, and he wasn't sure if he liked the idea of someone being able to look at him and find out anything about him that they pleased.

Madam Pomfrey had finished diagnosing Blaise Zabini, who nodded coolly at them both before leaving. He noticed that the mediwitch didn't say anything to the child; she just waved her wand about and caused words to appear on a sheaf of that parchment stuff, which then went into a magical file folder.

Harry wondered just what she could find out with that wand of hers – would it tell her about the times Dudley and his friends had beaten him in their 'Harry Hunting' games? With some trepidation, he nerved himself for the examination.

Draco gently pushed Harry forward, saying, "You go first, so you can get it out of the way. All right?"

Harry nodded, thankful Draco was accompanying him, and went near the matron, and got a good look at her. She was stern-looking woman in approximate middle age, in a white uniform that wouldn't have looked out of place in the 1940s. As he regarded her, she was extracting a blank magical file folder, and charming it to receive a parchment. Once that was done, she looked down at him, smiled briefly, and said, "What's your full name, child? I take it you're another of Severus's Slytherins?"

Softly, he said, "…Yeah. My name's Harry James Potter."

Madam Pomfrey then tapped her wand to a blank sheaf of parchment, and said, "Now, I understand you haven't had a lot of experience with magic, so don't be afraid when I point my wand at you. All right?"

Harry nodded.

"Good. Now could I get you to sit on this hospital bed, here?"

Harry gingerly got onto the hospital bed and nervously awaited the examination.

Madam Pomfrey pointed her wand, and muttered a spell Harry didn't quite catch. He felt a slight warmth flood over him as a yellow light briefly enveloped him. The warmth and the light vanished at the same time, and the mediwitch then tapped her wand on the parchment again, which rapidly became covered in black ink.

Harry, with the experience of learning to read the slight signs of body language people used, noticed that Madam Pomfrey's cursory glance at the parchment was followed with a frown, and her eyes began roving over the document more thoroughly.

Harry thought, That does it! Now what'll happen? Who will she tell? Draco's Dad is on the Board of Governors, he said… what if his Dad tells Draco? Or the Headmaster?

With a sinking feeling, he wondered how "confidential" these records really could be if powerful Headmasters and Governors had to run the school properly.

Morosely, he jumped off the bed and curtly nodded to Draco, who underwent his own examination. Harry's suspicions were confirmed when Pomfrey smiled benignly after eyeing Draco's parchment.

Fuming slightly, he responded in one-word monotone phrases as Draco attempted to blabber in his ear about the report in the Daily Prophet regarding the latest loss of the Chudley Cannons to Puddlemere United.

- - - - -

Draco Malfoy prided himself on being a rather good observer of all things Potter, and so after a few minutes of Harry's sudden recalcitrance, he deduced (quite correctly) that the latter had spotted Madam Pomfrey's body language when she'd discovered evidence of some kind of abuse. What he could do about it now, to draw Harry out of his shell, he didn't know.

Draco remembered how evasive Theodore Nott had been after that Percussion Hex incident, and he again recalled the rather strange tendency of abused children to enter Slytherin House. Their talent for dissembling and concealment fitted in well with the tendency of Slytherins to offer up information only if it could be traded for something else. Then again, it also could be because pureblood culture was (the blond grudgingly admitted to himself) in a state of near-stasis when it came to tradition and expectations regarding proper behaviour, and such methods of discipline had been handed down from generation to generation.

In the old timeline, his father had once obliquely hinted that he might employ such methods on Draco after his fourth year. He remembered the time he'd interrupted his father in the library when the man was talking to Patroclus Nott in low, guarded voices. Draco had forgotten that his father forbade him to interrupt that night, and the look of thin-lipped anger on his father's face sent Draco back-pedalling out of the library in record time.

Later that night, his father had referred briefly to the library incident and said, "Draco, understand this: if you fail to obey in the future I may have to consider certain methods of punishment which will leave you in no way uncertain as to what I expect of you. You are, I am sure, intelligent enough to consider what punishments I might find adequate."

Draco had kept himself absolutely rigid, nodding briefly and casting his eyes to the floor as he waited quietly, like a rabbit would in the area of a fox, for his father to leave.

His father didn't threaten him again – once was enough, for Draco remembered the time his father blasted a house-elf with a Gangrene Hex, and tossed it out onto the grass of the Manor lands to fend for itself, all because the little creature had incorrectly sewn one of Lucius's garments the night he was due to attend a major social gathering to solicit donations for St. Mungo's.

- - - - -

Severus Snape was enjoying a quiet evening in his quarters, as the cycle of marking assignments and essays was not yet in full swing. He was interrupted by a Floo call from Poppy Pomfrey. It seemed the last of the Slytherin first-years had gotten their medical examinations and she was ready to discuss their respective conditions.

They agreed to meet briefly in the Hospital Wing, as Severus was scheduled to patrol the corridors that night.

In the matron's office, Severus took some tea, and sipped at it as she took the students from best to worst, as she'd done for several years prior.

"Well, first off, Severus, that Muggleborn you have, Hermione Granger, was hit with a Jelly-Legs Jinx a day or so ago. There's minor bruising consistent with the hex. You had better get those pure-blood blockheads of yours under control or that House will be in full-scale riot. I know for a fact not every one of your Slytherins is a pureblood fanatic, and some of the more sensible ones might quail at the thought of a Muggleborn being openly bullied."

Irritated, he replied, "Yes, Poppy. I will handle the little brats."

"But I'm getting off track. Miss Granger's health is otherwise superb. She's had an excellent upbringing, by Muggle standards. I spoke with her briefly, and she said her parents are denteeths... no, dentists. As such they take an interest in oral as well as overall health, and it shows. She's a very healthy young lady, indeed, and will remain so if she can run the gauntlet in your House, Severus. And speaking of gauntlets, what about yours?"

"It isn't as bad as you'd make it out to be, Poppy. Even the likes of Crabbe and Goyle Seniors aren't going to suddenly denounce me if I have to help Miss Granger in the course of my duties. What are they going to do? Complain to the Headmaster? He already covered that with his written instructions."

Poppy smiled briefly and said, "Very well, then, you know best. Now, Draco Malfoy is also the picture of health; nothing is wrong with him other than the usual childhood pratfalls. I take it he flew a broom at his residence?"

Severus nodded. "I had occasion to visit Lucius and also to tutor Draco in Potions. The boy is a naturally good flier, but even so he had some accidents. Nothing too serious, although I'm sure he got to enjoy Narcissa fussing over him to no end."

"Hmm…" she looked thoughtful, but quickly changed the subject. "Blaise Zabini is also all right. He seems a bit withdrawn, but I suspect it is because his mother changes stepfathers a bit too swiftly for his liking."

"Blast it, let's not pussyfoot around this issue. We both know Mrs Zabini has a habit of fishing for Galleons when she gets married, and any idiot can go into Knockturn Alley and acquire a number of common poisons. Even without that, there are other Masters of Potions besides myself, and they'll brew anything; obviously, if she used me, the Ministry would start paying too much attention."

Pomfrey rattled on about the rest of the first-year Slytherins, remarking that none seemed to have any untoward conditions or injuries.

"Ah, let's see. Theodore Nott worries me. He has a suspicious bruise on his leg, and there's a number of old wounds that can't quite be accounted for as typical childhood injuries. I wouldn't go to his father with this information, though. Any magical curse residue has long since gone. But the instant the boy comes with another suspicious injury, you know the routine."

"Indeed."

Standard practice was for Severus to keep an eagle eye out on all his Slytherins for any new injuries or bruises they couldn't hide – but they'd try anyway, especially after start of term in September or January. If anything came up, he would send them for a "routine medical check-up", and usually threaten the loss of House points. Since it was practically Slytherin mythology that something had to be serious enough for Snape to take off points from Slytherin, nobody dared disobey an instruction like that.

One student had, very early in Severus's teaching career, and that student had been sentenced to scrubbing the stone walls of the common room, by hand, with no magic, for the next two months.

After losing twenty points from Slytherin.

Snape had to freely admit he was not always successful in convincing parents to back off their children. His methods usually worked the best on pure-blood parents, who remembered the little firstie that knew more curses than some sevenths. His veiled suggestions that Poppy Pomfrey had noticed something 'unusual', or that the Dragon Deputy McGonagall muttered something in his ear, usually worked. He would then insist that he knew how to handle discipline problems, playing on the motif of 'Slytherins look out for each other' – after all, children do need discipline.

He liked the time, though, that he'd been able to deal with a half-blood's parents – the pure-blood mother was of a family that moved back from France after the First War, and the Muggleborn father was uncomfortably aware that Snape had the ear of Lucius Malfoy. So it was easy enough to play on the half-truths they knew about him, and being able to breathe down their necks had been a satisfying resolution to the father's excessive discipline techniques. Far less wearying than the fencing and counterfencing those snotty pure-bloods insisted on engaging in as a cover for plain talk.

But one name had yet to come up...

"Harry Potter."

The Potions master twitched violently.

"What about him, Poppy?"

"I don't like this. He's underweight for his height, for one thing. That could be evidence of undernourishment on a regular basis. Additionally, his system has elevated levels of adrenalin."

Severus was inclined to dismiss this. "The levels of adrenalin don't exactly mean anything; it's his first day here, so naturally he's going to be excited; the first-years were all chattering away at breakfast as though they were owls in the owlery – and as for the height and eating habits, perhaps he's just a finicky eater, and hasn't bothered to broaden his tastes."

With some asperity, Poppy replied, "Severus, all the children I examined had slightly elevated levels of adrenalin! Mr Potter's was quite high compared to the rest.

"Additionally, his reflex results here bear that out. He has astonishingly swift reflexes, and while some of it is inherited, I wonder how much of it is a learned response."

Severus recalled an article in Potions Monthly that discussed the responses of the sympathetic nervous system to Invigoration Draughts. It occurred to him that in such a case, a person's reflexes were usually enhanced substantially, accompanied by higher adrenalin levels. By itself it usually didn't mean anything, but coupled with the mediwitch's report, it sounded as though the boy was on guard much of the time he was awake. One didn't lose that habit overnight.

Keeping his mind open regarding the possible direction they were heading, Snape said, "Are there any definite signs of physical assault, Poppy?"

Gather more evidence. Put the pieces together. The familiar train of thought asserted itself as Severus decided to try and treat the matter as though the Slytherin boy was someone other than Potter.

She sighed. "Well, there's evidence of minor injuries consistent with punches, Severus. There's one last thing in this report. The boy's arm was broken at around the age of five and it's a miracle the bones set properly. It wouldn't be noticeable, but the magical diagnostic is whole-body, and I'm experienced enough with the way Muggleborns have their injuries treated to know how their bone-healing methods work."

Then Poppy dropped her bombshell. "Severus, the boy didn't have a cast. His arm was left to heal on its own!"

With a heavy sigh, Poppy said, "I hate to say it. I can't believe this! The Boy Who Lived! Abused!"

Severus raised his eyebrows as he considered the implications. He'd seen the results of a bone that hadn't set properly. A worker from the factory had once come to visit his father, and the gist of their conversation had been about a bad workplace accident. The man who'd visited had an arm that looked slightly crooked, and he ranted about how the idiot NHS doctor hadn't set the bones properly and the cast fucked it all up for him as a result.

Pomfrey noticed his lifted eyebrows, taking them to mean he didn't quite believe his ears. "It's true. I know because the bone re-growth pattern is not typical of someone who has had a cast with properly-set bones. Bones that have been set properly usually re-grow to become essentially indistinguishable from the unbroken bone. In Mister Potter's case there are distinguishable irregularities that suggest that only his own magic helped heal the bones in a manner that left his arm functional."

"Blast it! All right, make me a duplicate of that. I'll watch in Potions to see how Potter behaves in close contact. I don't know the details of his family, but in my experience the abuser is often male. I'll have to find a way to get the information out of the boy."

Poppy did so, then placed the duplicate parchment in an envelope and charmed it to only open when Severus was handling it. She said, "What about the Headmaster?"

"It's none of his business right now. I didn't tell Albus about every last niggling little detail regarding the other children you've told me about over the years and I see no reason to let him put his nose into Slytherin internal affairs now."

Pomfrey reluctantly nodded, and said, "That boy – if you hadn't insisted on this procedure as a general rule for Slytherins, or if he'd gone to another House, I'd have missed this by the time he came in with a school-related injury, and I'd have been hard-pressed to tell the difference."

Poppy Pomfrey shook her head and pursed her lips at the thought of what some people could do to the children in their care, while Severus Snape drank off the last of his tea, and began the night-time patrol of Hogwarts.

He felt, for the first time, the pull of an Unbreakable Vow. Even without it, he said to himself, he would not have stood for Lily Evans's child being mistreated by a group of ignorant Muggles. But he wasn't so sure. Seeing James Potter's face again after a decade called back memories he had wished were buried and gone, and it had been a bit of a struggle in the Slytherin Common Room to not let a spike of anger overtake him as he saw James Potter's face and hair poking out of a Hogwarts robe.

It was one of the few times he'd realised the disadvantage to the slow pace of change in the wizarding world. Robe fashions that stayed the same for over twenty years had an annoying habit of obscuring other differences which existed in people who looked almost the same.

- - - - -

Draco Malfoy was standing confusedly in front of Professor Snape's clapped-out old house; his mother had once sniffed at it, saying 'Spinner's End? More like Peasant's End, if you ask me', and Draco could see why. It was so unbelievably Muggle. He could not believe the urbane Head of Slytherin, whose silky voice put one in mind of the purest of the pure bloods, lived in a place of such austerity among Muggles. He supposed this place could compete with that awful Weasel residence that he had heard about... the Buffalo, or some such name for a clapped-out rubbish heap

Snape's quiet Apparition before him startled him out of his musings, and the pair swiftly entered the house, which was absolutely pitch-black inside; the windows had some sort of heavy drapery over them. The young blond lifted his eyebrow as the older wizard's nonverbal spell caused a gas lamp to begin flaring on one wall, while a candlestick on the table, situated between two rubbishy chairs, also lit up, casting a pale yellow glow across the bookcases nearby. Indeed, the whole place was simply packed with books, books, and more books. Sardonically, Draco wondered if Granger would have a heart attack or an explosion of rapture if she ever got to Snape's place.

The ex-Defence Professor was swiftly tending to the wound he'd taken earlier; he'd heard Snape muttering "... blasted hippogriff... bollocks to Potter..."

Draco wondered if perhaps it was that same hippogriff he'd tried to have executed, but which had mysteriously escaped that night before the rumours began sweeping Hogwarts about Sirius Black. That oaf Hagrid certainly had a soft spot for those dangerous animals.

The pale boy cautiously sat down in one of the ancient chairs near the table with the candlestick, making a face at the cloud of dust which enveloped him before he irritably muttered, "Scourgify". After the other man was finished treating himself, he started in on Draco.

"You unbelievably arrogant, stupid, incompetent fool of a boy! You have cost the Dark Lord his best spy within the walls of Hogwarts, all because you couldn't be bothered to ask for my help! All because you couldn't bring yourself to complete the mission assigned to you!"

Draco whimpered pathetically, "B-but... my mother! My father!"

"Spare me your mewling about your family, Draco! You know as well as I do that the Dark Lord cares only for the fact that a Death Eater can complete an assigned mission and do so properly. You have failed. Now come with me. We must make an accounting, and make no mistake about it—"

The boy quailed as the greasy teacher yanked him out of the seat and threw him against the door. The pain in the back of his head momentarily disoriented him as he blinked rapidly. Snape pointed his finger in Draco's face, and bit off the final words: "I repeat, make no mistake, I will not hesitate to explain the situation to the Dark Lord and see you appropriately punished for this! Now get out of my house and Apparate with me."

Quivering, the young blond let himself be Apparated with a jolt to the Riddle mansion...

Draco jerked awake with a yell, finally wrenching himself out of the nightmare. He hadn't wanted to relive, again, that terrifying experience of being under the Cruciatus curse due to the Dark Lord's displeasure. Admittedly, the nightmare was a relatively tame one compared to what followed, but that night had been so confusing and stressful.

He was already giving serious consideration to brewing Dreamless Sleep on the sly in that bathroom of Moaning Myrtle's.

Getting his bearings, he realised he was at Hogwarts, and today was the first Double Potions class. Well, no wonder he'd had his first nightmare at Hogwarts! He had never been afraid of Severus Snape before, but that night after Dumbledore's death, the man had turned his full loathing towards him, the same loathing he freely vented on Potter and his Gryffindor friends – and indeed, any Gryffindor, such as the unfortunate Neville Longbottom.

A sudden lump in his throat made it hard to swallow as he realised that he would be in the presence of (in his opinion) the single most dangerous Death Eater alive, aside from his crazy Aunt Bellatrix. Grabbing up his wand and muttering, "Tempus", Draco noted that it was close to seven in the morning. He made for the shower and got himself ready for the day; at least he knew he could complain to his father if need be – a rather sobering thought for Draco, as it called to mind the rather uncomfortable image of being caught between a dragon and a granite wall.

- - -

Draco thought he'd covered his nervousness in the Potions classroom well enough, but Harry noticed. He said, "Draco, what's wrong? You look… well, worried."

They were sitting in Potions, right in the front row, with Crabbe and Goyle at the bench just behind them, and Weasley and Granger were seated at the front bench across the aisle. The Gryffindors were scattered more towards the back; Pansy Parkinson was actually sitting with Parvati Patil this time. Surprised, Draco wondered at it until he remembered that since the Patil twins were pureblooded, they'd occasionally visited with Pansy in years past. He remembered they hadn't had the fight over Longbottom yet when he'd stolen the Remembrall.

Draco mentally cursed at Harry's observational skill, and said, "Yes, I'm a bit nervous. This is the first time I've had a Potions lesson outside of private lessons, that's all."

At Draco's facile dismissal, Harry smiled and nodded.

The banging of the door startled Draco badly and he nearly fell off his chair, as Professor Snape stormed back into the classroom. Earlier, he'd eyed the first-years standing outside the Potions classroom as though they were potions ingredients, and said, "Get in, and wait for me. I shall be back momentarily. None of you are to begin doing anything until I get back."

Well, he was back now.

After balefully eyeing the classroom, Professor Snape did the roll call, pausing only briefly over Harry's name, then continuing. Draco thought, Harry being a Slytherin seems to have made up for some of that animosity. I can only hope nothing goes pear-shaped in this class!

Snape then ran through his speech regarding potions. Draco, out the corner of his eye, noted the rapt attention Harry gave to the man's speech, and wondered if maybe Harry would have actually liked Potions if the two hadn't kept striking sparks off each other.

"Potter!"

And now, it begins, thought Draco.

Harry looked steadily at the professor, who then said, "What is the difference between monkshood and wolfsbane?"

Hermione Granger promptly shot her hand in the air, and after noticing that Snape didn't seem to be interested in calling on her when Harry took a second to consider the question and reply, began fidgeting on her lab stool.

Professor Snape, noticing this, turned to her and idly said, "You may put your hand down, Miss Granger. Unless you require the use of the washroom facilities?"

She put her hand down reluctantly, and Snape said, "Since it appears the washroom is not the issue here, then wait until you are called upon in future."

Somewhat abashed, Granger picked up her quill, apparently deciding that if she couldn't answer questions she would copy out every word. Snape turned back to Harry expectantly.

Harry's brow furrowed as he apparently recalled his Potions theory book, and then he replied, "They're the same plant, sir."

Snape said, "Tell me, Potter, why would I be interested in the fact that Mr Weasley has chosen a rat as his familiar?"

Harry, gathering himself, said, "Um, I think their tails are useful in potions… sir?"

"Very well. I see that our celebrity has paid attention. Mr Potter is correct that monkshood and wolfsbane are the same, and they also go by the name aconite. In addition, other rat parts are also useful as potions ingredients. Take a point for Slytherin, Mr Potter… and the rest of you could follow his example and begin copying this down!"

After the scratches of quills on parchment ceased, Snape began again. "Now, today you will make a fairly simple boil-curing potion. As in all future classes, I will place the instructions on the board, and you shall begin. Pair up, and do not waste your ingredients!"

The last fairly-shouted statement made several members of the class jump, and Draco noticed that Finnegan actually reared his head back at the shout.

Draco and Harry split up the task of getting the ingredients together for the boil-cure potion. Draco remembered to keep his Occlumency shields up, and to not look Snape directly in the eye if he could avoid it. He'd tried to put on his most fawning expression at Snape's speech, but he wasn't sure he'd really pulled it off.

When they came back to their bench, Draco said, "Here. You crush the snake fangs. I'll weigh the nettles. I've a bit of practice with these potions scales."

Harry nodded, and the two set to work, Luckily for the overall progress of the class, although Snape stalked about the class in his usual bat-like manner, he mostly kept his mouth closed, only barely taking swipes at the Gryffindors while pausing to correct the Slytherins if they crushed the snake fangs too coarsely.

The potion began without issue, and as Draco stirred the potion, he quietly said, "Harry, was your scar okay? I saw you rubbing your head a bit in Defence Against the Dark Arts."

Harry smiled briefly, although a bit uncertainly, thought Draco. He said, "Yeah, it ached a little in Quirrell's class but I'm all right now."

Suddenly, out of nowhere, Snape was at their bench, surprising them both a bit. He said, "It appears that your potion is coming along well," then accidentally brushed Harry's shoulder as he reached for the ladle to examine the contents more closely. Harry's face twitched and he jerked a bit more than Draco supposed one would at an accidental touch. Draco's suspicions were raised again at this new piece of information.

After peering at the contents, Snape said, "Good. Remember to stew your horned slugs evenly."

He swooped away, and Draco wondered, yet again, how the man seemed to glide when he wanted to.

Draco showed Harry how to stew the slugs properly, grinning at the latter's look of distaste. He said, "If you think this is bad, you should look more closely at those shelves in the professor's area, Harry."

"I'm trying not to, Draco. That's the thing."

Minor conversation like this ensued, and as Draco took the cauldron off the fire to let it cool, he made sure to have Harry carefully add the porcupine quills while keeping an eye out for Neville Longbottom's cauldron. He breathed a sigh of relief as he saw Brown grab Longbottom's wrist before it touched the cauldron. She pointed at the board's instructions, and the boy seemed to deflate and wince as he carefully withdrew his hand, while Lavender turned the flame off and took the cauldron off the burner to let it cool.

Crisis averted! Yes! An exploding cauldron episode was hardly the best way to start things off in first year, especially when Snape, Draco surmised, was still deciding the best way to deal with a Slytherin Potter.

The rest of the Potions class passed relatively quietly, with no-one having to go to the hospital wing, and before long, Snape was bellowing, "Clean up your equipment and get out of my classroom!"

- - - - -

After classes ended for the day, in the lull before dinner began in the Great Hall, Severus Snape was heading to the Headmaster's office, mulling over what he'd seen. He had scribbled on the back of Pomfrey's parchment some notes regarding the unusual flinch the Potter boy had shown when he'd "accidentally" brushed the boy's shoulder in reaching for the cauldron.

As loath as he was to admit it, evidence was mounting that not all was exactly as it should be in the island of Potter. But a more immediate problem was at hand…

The gargoyle moved aside, admitting Severus after he unwillingly ground out, "Excitable Éclairs," and as he rode the stairs he grimaced at Dumbledore's latest fad in confectionery.

Upon entering the Headmaster's office, he saw the old Headmaster peering through his telescope at some faraway scene. He said, "Headmaster—"

The old man interrupted him, saying, "Ah, Severus. I was just admiring the beauty of the mountains that surround us. We are indeed favoured with the foresight of the Founders to have chosen such a remote location that, even in these modern days, few people wish to encroach on these grounds. But I am remiss. Have a seat. Would you like a sherbet lemon?"

"No."

As Dumbledore seated himself, he said, "Alas. Nobody ever seems to eat one. Perhaps they are too sour, or perhaps people are too wary of Muggle sweets. They have a very amusing form of chocolate in pieces about the size of these sherbet lemons. They are called, ah, 'Hershey Kisses', I believe."

Severus sneered and said, "I haven't got all day to recite the glories of Muggle candies. I need to report to you some things I've heard about Potter."

At that, the Headmaster was instantly alert, his usual vague expression of good cheer replaced by the intensity Severus had seldom seen since the late 1970s. If Dumbledore thought this was serious, Severus didn't like to think about the odds that the Dark Lord was biding his time, waiting to settle his score with Potter.

"Mr Potter and Mr Malfoy came to me the night of the Sorting. Potter said his scar hurt him at dinner, and it was when he looked at the High Table that it happened. He claims it was a twinge, but surface Legilimency suggests it was more like a sharp pain than a twinge. I then happened to overhear them in Potions today, and Potter was saying his scar ached a bit during that pitiable Quirrell's class."

Dumbledore leaned forwards, his arms on his desk, palms down. His expression was entirely businesslike as he said, "This is serious, Severus. I do not as yet know all the properties of the scar young Harry has, but one thing is clear – the fact that it was created at the moment Voldemort's attack failed strongly suggests to me that the two are linked in some way. I am forced to wonder about Quirinus's journey to Albania, and what he encountered there."

The implications of this were dramatic – and all grim. Severus showed no outward sign of his inner uncertainty as he said, "For what you imply to be true – that the Dark Lord has indeed re-entered Hogwarts, my Dark Mark would have had to flare up as well, and it has not. Not once, Headmaster, this term or, for that matter, in the last decade. I think Quirrell has simply been given a bad case of permanent anxiety from his foolish adventures abroad and is probably attempting to redeem himself by chasing after things he ought not to be chasing."

It went without saying that the Philosopher's Stone posed a very tempting target.

"I fear, Severus, that it is too much of a coincidence that Mr Potter's scar should hurt at any time in this school when it would appear that it has never hurt before. But at the very least – are we agreed that you must keep an eye on Quirrell?"

Severus smirked, saying, "I have no issue with chasing down that puerile excuse for a Defence professor. Are you sure you won't let me have the job for next year?"

Dumbledore's eye glistened and appeared to twinkle in amusement as he said, "Now, Severus, you're only applying for Defence Against the Dark Arts because you know about the curse. I do apologise, but it is my wish that you not leave my employ just yet. In any case, thank you for your information. Dinner will start soon and it would be unseemly of me to not appear for the excellent food the house-elves provide."

Snorting, Severus stood up and followed the Headmaster out of the room, wondering if he could plead urgent business with Draco, or another Slytherin, and eat dinner in his room. Unfortunately, this was rendered impossible by the Headmaster's adroit questioning as to how many alchemists had been published lately in Potions Monthly.

Severus had not, however, forgotten that Draco Malfoy seemed a bit fidgety around him now. Perhaps it was simply the fact that he couldn't devote all his attention to Draco for Potions lessons anymore, but it bore watching, even if he had no intention of saying anything to Lucius.

Another thought flitted through his mind – why did Draco breathe a sigh of relief after he quizzed Potter and gave Slytherin a point?

Author Notes:

Hello, again. Apologies for the long delay in this fic - this one is one I want to take good care of, so polishing it up just right is important. This fic is not abandoned, by any means. :) Thanks go to Kirinin and Maddevillechilde for their beta work on this fic. :) Much thanks are due my betas for putting up with my "Are you done yet?" e-mails. :D

In addition, I made some minor technical corrections to some previous chapters and added a small segment to Draco's Diagon Alley visit. As well I'd like to direct your attention to another fic, set in the Erasing-verse, called "Owl Tracks". :)

And, finally, as always I welcome concrit be it in a review, PM or e-mail. :-)

Addendum: I realize that in the 1950s and 1960s, the UK's NHS was better-funded than it is today, but even so, the law of averages says that the doctor that got a C+ on his examinations instead of an A+ will be the one to treat you - this is with respect to the mill worker scene.