2 Oct 1991, Wednesday
The entire student body of Hogwarts and its staff had assembled out on the Quidditch pitch and the in the stands to watch the tryouts for Hogwarts first Quidditch Little League. Lucius Malfoy, one time reluctant Death Eater and now the new coach, was tall. He stood out further in a very Malfoy modified Slytherin Quidditch uniform of dove grey wool knee-trousers, green hose, a white silk shirt, a green quilted over-vest and matching, heavy draping robes. Snape had to snort at the fashion plate the vain wizard made amongst the group of first years.
Lucius was assisted by the Slytherin prefects Tara Anglaise and Gordon Billock. They corralled the excited boys and girls that wanted to try out, which was nearly all of them, and took down their names.
"Oh my great Aunt Matilda's crossed eyes!" cursed Minerva who was seated next to Snape. "He bought new brooms?" A group of third year Slytherins was parading in a procession of brand new brooms for the little league teams.
Snape shrugged. "I would expect no less of Lucius. He has always been one to make certain all bases were covered." He squinted down at his third years. "As I thought. Those brooms appear to be the latest junior Quidditch brooms."
"Indeed," agreed Minerva as she crossed her arms over her chest. "At least no one team will have an unfair advantage."
"D-d-do my eyes d-d-decieve me?" stuttered Quirrell behind them. "Are the g-g-goals sh-sh-shorter?"
Snape's nose wrinkled at the horrid smell of garlic that wafted towards him as the DADA instructor leaned over he and Minerva. "I suspect that as it is a little league," Snape educated with boredom laced through his voice, "everything will be scaled down appropriately."
Down on the pitch Prefect Billock shouted for all the kids to be quiet. He turned to Lucius. "Okay, sir. Tara and I chose Fred and George Weasley for the assistant coaches." Prefects Anglaise and Billock glanced at the two grinning twins. Lucius gave the twins an appraising glare, then nodded, waving his hand dismissively. "Quite all right, Prefect Billock.
Lucius then addressed the first years, remarking to himself, was I ever that short? "I and my assistants will select two teams from the best players. Each team will be representative of all the Houses," three matching frowns were directed his way from three Gryffindors. Lucius' gaze narrowed, especially at the three boys. "This is a great honour, and one that I expect everyone to wear as their best behaviour." When he was finished, he instructed, "Grab a broom and just fly in this round."
Draco grabbed Harry's hand and they ran over to the stack of new brooms. They each grabbed one and were the first two in the air.
Up in the stands Minerva elbowed Snape and he glowered at her. He was trying not to watch Harry fly at the same time as he was keeping an eye on the boy.
"He flies well, Severus," commented the Deputy Headmistress.
"He is a menace," ground out Snape as Harry executed a perfect loop de loop.
"That's talent you'll want to encourage," Minerva continued. Snape wished that the older woman would shut her mouth. He was finding these trials to be too uncomfortable to watch. "I think Harry might be better than James. What do you think, Severus?"
"Potter was a bloody arrogant daredevil that was too busy trying to impress all the girls in the stands rather than trying to play the game!" he snapped. Grimly he recalled one time during a Ravenclaw/Gryffindor match that the blowhard was attempting to get Lily's attention. The idiot had been struck by a bludger. It had earned him three days in the Infirmary and not once had Lily even given a thought to the Marauder.
Minerva narrowed her eyes at Snape's thin smile. "I would bet my last galleon that you're remembering when James was hit by the bludger in his third year."
Snape scowled and adjusted the collar of his outer cloak.
Minerva chuckled smugly. "I'm right, aren't I?"
Snape ignored his colleague and kept his attention on Harry as he flew in a beautiful spiral, beside Draco, down to the ground.
Minerva smiled satisfactorily, "At least the highest any of the players can fly is eight feet."
"If one falls, a neck can still be broken," muttered Snape.
Minerva chuckled softly. "That would be difficult, Severus. It states here…" she showed him a brochure that Lucius had printed up that detailed rules and safety regulations. "All the players are encased with a modified Cushioning Charm tested to a height of ten feet."
Snape managed to glare at the highly glossy brochure with images of players flying about in several images. It was another expense Lucius had paid for with his own gold.
Flushed with excitement, Harry and Draco ran over to Lucius for word on who would get to continue onto the next trials.
Once everyone was out of the air, Lucius quickly read off several names until they were left with twenty one to play on the teams, and seven reserve players. "Reserve players are those whose names were not called," noted Lucius. The looks of disappointment that were aimed at him hurt. Still, he smiled encouragingly. "There will be a little league box just for all the players so you may watch the games from there."
"I don't want to play on a team with slimy snakes," Ronald Weasley glowered, not thinking that he was not just insulting the Slytherin first years, but their Head coach as well.
"I don't want to play with a moronic Gryffindor!" growled Teddy Nott.
Similar sentiments broke out between nearly all of the Gryffindors and Slytherins. Harry just quietly watched as it all played out.
"You've no choice in the matter," Lucius asserted firmly. "Teams will be assigned according to who does best at what position, so if Gryffindors or Slytherins offend you that much, then by all means, join your House in the stands. Now. Any one of our fine reserve players will be delighted to take your places." His grey eyes raked over all the dissenters who shuffled or scuffed their feet and stared hard at the ground. Not one left.
"Very good," smiled Lucius, but his smile was hard and held the warning that he wouldn't put up with bad sportsmanship. "Consider this an exercise in House unity. You will all be setting a fine example for the upper years."
Draco grinned at that and Harry smiled back, glad to see that the elder Malfoy had defused the situation smoothly.
Lucius then had Prefect Anglaise bring out the Quidditch equipment. Ronald Weasley scowled down at the box that contained everything. Although the Snitch was professional size, the Quaffle was made from stiffened cowhide leather rather than the harder professional dragonhide Quaffle. The Bludgers which resembled short, thick baseball bats, were made of the same stiffened cowhide leather, and painted white with black stripes around the indentation that marked where it was to be held.
"Why's it all so small?" he demanded.
"This is little league, Mr. Weasley," sneered Lucius. "You can hardly be expected to play with the more... lethal bludgers and quaffle that are used in the Hogwarts competitions."
Ronald refused to be cowed by the Death Eater and he sneered back. "Does that mean we can't fly high, either?"
"You are eleven years old, Mr. Weasley. Your own magical strength limits how high you can safely fly. Regulations state that no one will fly higher than eight feet. Little league will have some restrictions but it will not take away the entertainment value of the game." Lucius did not care for this youngest Weasley.
Draco piped up, "We get to fly, Weasel! And our team is gonna win so we can go to Hogsmeade!"
"No chance, Malfoy," declared Ronald. "My brothers and I play real Quidditch so we'll clean your clocks!"
"Your flying is pants!" yelled Draco, now face to face with the Weasley boy.
"Draco!" snapped his father. Lucius' son paled and turned to face his father with a very contrite expression. "Am I to understand that neither you nor Mr. Weasley wish to be a part of little league?" Lucius gave the two malcontents a deep frown.
It took every ounce of courage the smallest Malfoy had to keep his hands at his sides and not behind his back to protect his bum. His father had told him he was too old for spanking, so even though he knew he was in trouble, whatever punishment his father chose to mete out would not be that. Draco knew he had to say something, but his throat had gone inconveniently dry. It was Harry who saved the day.
"Mr. Malfoy, I don't want to play if Draco and Ron don't get to play." Ronald's jaw dropped as he looked at the Slytherin. Draco was also rather stunned to find Weasley's name with his.
Lucius regarded the young boy now standing, bravely, in front of him. "Why do you think I should allow them to play, Mr. Potter."
Harry half shrugged before replying. "It doesn't matter if we don't get to fly high or if the equipment is smaller. We get to play Quidditch! And, one teams is going to Hogsmeade. That's all that really matters, right, Sir?"
He smiled warmly at Harry. "Quite so, Mr. Potter. Let them battle it out honorably." Lucius then glared down at Draco and Ronald. "Is that possible for the two of you? Can you concentrate on the game instead of attempting to outdo each other?"
"I will if he will!" Ronald said hotly and with a challenging smile at Draco.
"Okay," agreed Draco. Under his breath he added, "But we'll beat you, Gryffindork."
No one else heard Draco, but his father did and promptly smacked the back of his son's head lightly in warning.
"Enough of this," Lucius spoke loudly, but didn't shout. "Let's get ready for the next trial. I will be introducing Bludgers and a Quaffle. At the moment, Bludgers for everyone." He then glared at his troublemakers. "If anyone attacks another player with his or her Bludger that person will be immediately disqualified."
Up in the stands Snape had followed most of the argument between the two boys with a combination of reading the body language, facial expressions, and lips. He smirked to himself. He would have tossed both boys into the lake and allowed neither to play. "The patience of a saint," chuckled Snape, referring to Lucius and his unlikely, but perfectly Slytherin action of volunteering to coach these little league teams.
His old friend was changing as he got older, observed Snape. He never had doubt that the eldest Malfoy loved his family. He had personally seen the man suffer torture and risk death for Narcissa and Draco many times. What Snape had never imagined, though, was that Lucius would take such an interest in his son's well-being that he would allow himself to be volunteered (by the clever Miss Granger) into overseeing an activity that was not an intellectual pursuit.
Ron and Draco were not the only first years at odds with one another. Dean Thomas and Seamus Finnegan, deprived of their usual target, Hermione, who refused to go near a broom, had both decided that Harry made a good target. Snape saw this and was growing more and more irritated with the two Gryffindors who went from insults to finally trying to knock Harry from his broom during the third trial.
It was inevitable as the tryouts continued that a fist-fight broke out between Harry and Draco and the three Gryffindors. Snape had jumped up to intervene but it was George and Fred Weasley with Tara Anglaise that brought the fight to an immediate halt.
Lucius stopped what he was doing to drop a glare of such foreboding poison upon the five students that none of them dared speak up or move. Draco did shift his hands behind his back over his bum; just in case.
"Mr. Thomas. Mr. Weasley. Mr. Finnegan. You three have done your best to wreak havoc amongst everyone else who truly desired to be here." His lips thinned. "Go back to your House."
"They fought, too!" shouted Ron as he pointed at Draco and Harry.
"Forget it, Ron," sniped Seamus. "Slytherins always favour their own."
"I'd rather wait a year and play real Quidditch instead of this baby imitation," sneered Dean.
"Go back. To your House. Now," ordered Lucius. He then turned from them and aimed an extremely disapproving look at Draco and Harry. "Seventy-five points from Gryffindor," he spat softly.
"Father?" asked Draco with a tremor in his voice.
"Twenty-five points from Slytherin as I saw that you were both attacked," Lucius continued darkly. "However, since you both had the intention to perpetuate the fight, consider that another twenty-five points. Miss Anglaise, Misters Weasley." They quickly trotted over to the Head Coach. "From our Reserves, choose three deserving students to replace those let go."
They were a few minutes and then they brought the names of three Reserve players to Lucius. He called to the three, "Mount up, everyone!" ordered Lucius. "Last trial. We need Seekers but I want to see teamwork in order for two of you to catch the Snitch!"
The chase was on for the glittering gold ball with fluttering, feathered wings.
In the stands Snape had been wired to leap into the fight and end it but Minerva had held him back. Lucius, he saw, handled everything well, and he was quietly pleased to see the three Gryffindor reprobates banned from the little league.
By the time the tryouts ended, Snape felt ready for a nap, Minerva had fallen asleep leaning against Snape's shoulder, snoring softly, while the teams were finally created.
Snape yawned, then woke his colleague, who pretended that she hadn't been napping for the last hour, and he then made his way down the stands behind the crowd of the students and staff. Had he not been exhausted, he might have noticed the steady stare of hatred that Professor Quirrell aimed at a jubilant, raven haired little boy with glasses who was jumping up and down with his Quidditch Little League team.
Professor Quirrell pushed past Snape, stammered an apology, and was quickly swallowed up by the bustling crowd. Snape managed an indignant glare, but quickly gave it up as he was met on the field by a very bouncy Harry Potter.
"Did you see me, Sir?" Harry crowed. "I caught the Snitch! I get to be a Seeker!"
"I did see, Mr. Potter. I also saw that reckless maneuver of yours where you nearly plowed into the ground in order to catch the Snitch." Snape's look of disapproval did not dampen the boy's enthusiasm. Harry grabbed Snape's hand and drew him happily over to the circle of his teammates who then regaled poor Snape with a blow by blow recitation of everything he'd seen from the stands.
Just behind him, he heard Minerva's amused voice quip, "Patience of a saint, Severus."
Draco was walking, unbouncing, next to his father. Lucius had long ago, from the time his son first learned to walk, shortened his normal pace so that Draco didn't have to trot behind him. He was waiting, a bit anxiously he admitted to himself, for Draco to say something to him. He knew that Draco always loved to play Catch the Snitch at home, so he was certain that his son would be disappointed in being a Chaser. It had really been a close contest between Draco and his friend Harry, but he'd been sure, as he was assigning positions, that Draco would want to be on the same team as Harry. You couldn't really have two Seekers, and Lucius was honest, Harry, by a smidge, mind you, was just a bit smoother than Draco was.
But, what if he'd guessed wrongly? There were enough players, precisely, for two teams when the flying trial had finished. Four teams to represent each House would have been madness.
Maybe he should have put Harry and Draco on opposite teams and then they both could have been Seekers. However, the moment when Lucius had been thinking of doing that, he imagined all the arguments and fights that might break out, mostly begun by Draco, that would result if Harry won a game by catching the snitch. No, he thought it wiser for the two friends to be teammates.
Lucius glanced down at his son, trying to gauge his mood; to see if he was going to have to face one of Draco's infamous tantrums. The boy appeared calm, perfectly composed.
I've trained him too well to emulate me, Lucius' mind muttered to itself. Now I can't tell what he's thinking anymore.
Lucius then looked at Harry, who was practically skipping beside Snape, his hand clasped in the older man's hand. The other players were all behind their teachers laughing, jumping, squealing for joy and Lucius had no idea if his son was monumentally mad at him for choosing someone else as Seeker or...
Lucius nearly tripped as he was stopped by a small body that had suddenly wrapped itself around his lower half.
Draco, who had been taught at an early age not to show affection in public to his father, threw the rule out the window as he turned and hugged his father, and pressed his cheek against the tall man's abdomen.
Making his hug tighter, Draco gushed, "Thank you so much, father! This is going to make my first year great!"
Lucius touched his son's head as warmth suffused his body. His smile was surprised, but oh so very pleased. "You approve then, Dragon?" using his son's nickname to show the boy that this particular effusive display was quite all right by him. "Even though you're not the Seeker?"
"Well, yeah. I mean, I wish I could have been the Seeker, but I still get to fly fast because I'm a Chaser and maybe next year I'll get to be Slytherin's Seeker." Draco, who had yet to let go, gave his father's waist another squeeze. "What's really great, Father, is you're the coach and you're going to be here for practices and games and I'll get to be with you. Isn't that going to be fun?"
Lucius looked down into his son's hopeful eyes and his hand cupped the boy's cheek affectionately. He felt an odd lump in his throat and for a brief moment he wasn't sure that he'd be able to speak. Finally, he replied, "It will be fun, Dragon."
Draco pressed his cheek against his father again and shouted, "You're the best Father ever!"
At the staff table during dinner, Lucius explained to Snape that the little league game of Quidditch had a time limit.
"Little league takes into consideration the age of the players who are unable to fly a match that might last four hours, or more. As such, there is a time limit to the game of two hours. At the end of two hours, if the snitch has not been caught a winning team is chosen by the number of goals scored." Lucius ate a bite of roast, chewed it, and swallowed it before continuing, "There are also quite a few safeguards built into the game and the equipment."
"Such as Cushioning Charms?" asked Professor Flitwick on the other side of Lucius.
"Modified Cushioning Charms on the bludgers, which are made of leather. Greatly reduces the chances of injury," he elaborated.
"Unless the child happens to fall from his broom and splatters his brains upon the pitch," muttered Snape in a tone of doom.
Lucius turned to his old friend and smiled at him. "As I recall, you never tried out for Quidditch during your time as a student, Severus."
Snape glowered at the teasing tone. "I preferred studying, thank you very much," he added caustically.
Lucius laughed and Flitwick chuckled. "Surely you will support Harry's endeavors in the game, won't you?"
"Why would I not, Lucius?" Snape asked, genuinely puzzled. "After today, it is all the boy can speak of. Like so many before him, he has fallen under the Siren Call of Quidditch."
"It is one thing to support your House team, Severus," replied Lucius. "For that is your duty as the Head of Slytherin to do so. It is quite another matter altogether to support one child whom you care for."
"I am concerned about all the children," insisted Snape.
"As well you should, Severus," agreed Lucius. "It is a pity that there aren't more who think as you do." The aristocrat dabbed delicately at his lips and stretched slightly. "Shall I meet you for a drink later, Severus?"
Snape nodded curtly. "I have a detention ending at nine."
Lucius rose, gave his friend a nod, and left the staff table. He stopped at the Slytherin table briefly to congratulate Harry and Draco on making the team. Without hesitation, Lucius touched Draco's head, and then his cheek with his fingertips. Draco smiled in unabashed love and admiration up at his father.
Snape, who had been watching the little scene between father and son, was slightly caught off guard as Harry chose that moment to give him a look that was a near mirror of the one Draco was giving his father. A lump of indeterminate origin formed in Snape's throat along with a strange sense of warmth that wasn't his Darjeeling tea. An odd sensation, but not entirely unpleasant. He nodded at the boy, and then tried to swallow past that lump. It was impossible!
Lucius and Snape were in Snape's living room having a touch of fire whiskey to end the day. Lucius was in a leather wingback chair with his long legs stretched out before him. Snape was in the opposite, matching chair, but appeared a bit stiffer, and didn't look half as comfortable as his friend did.
Snape frowned at the smile that had been on Lucius' face for the last five minutes. "I do not suppose you are ever going to lose that ridiculous smile, are you?"
"I did tell you that my son said I'm the best father, didn't I, Severus?" Lucius took a slow sip of his whiskey.
"Yes. Three times during dinner, twice on the way down here and once while I was pouring our drinks. That now counts as a seventh time," snapped Snape. He glowered into his drink, wondering at the sensation in his gut that felt remarkably like indigestion, but couldn't be.
Lucius smirked, "Why I do believe you sound a bit jealous, my friend."
Snape's head shot up as he aimed the glare, reserved for his whiskey, at the arrogant wizard. "And just what would I be jealous of?" Snape meant for that to sound rather venomous, and to anyone else it might have, but he had spoken this to Lucius, who, at times, had an uncanny ability to see a second meaning in the innocuous statement. It was one of the skills that made Lucius such a convincing speaker when speaking to politicians and business associates.
Lucius raised himself a bit straighter in the chair and his grey eyes pierced knowingly towards Snape, "Considering the way Mr. Potter held onto your hand this afternoon and walked, no skipped, beside you, I'd have thought you'd be rather content."
Snape's mind was a bit a-whirl with unfamiliar emotions at the moment and he wasn't having a great deal of luck in taming them with his Occlumency. He had been pleased when Harry had run up to him and despite the boy's nearly unintelligible commentary of what he'd seen from the stands, he had listened, only too content to walk with him, hand in hand, to the castle. Not once had he considered that it might be inappropriate, or that some people shouldn't see him holding hands with a student, much less the Boy-Who-Lived. Harry had chosen him to share his joy with and no other adult. And, it had been Harry who had looked upon him, in the Great Hall, with unabashed affection.
It had all unbalanced Snape's fussily ordered world.
"Dumbledore was none too pleased today." stated Lucius.
The statement, so blithely delivered, was like a bucket of ice water to Snape. He shoved all those conflicting emotions to the background and managed to sit a bit stiffer in his chair.
"With the little league?" Snape asked in deliberate avoidance of what he should have asked instead. He had honestly not once thought about the Headmaster and this worried him. He couldn't keep Harry safe if he wasn't vigilant about that old man.
Lucius drew his legs up so he was sitting a bit more formally in the chair. "No. Dumbledore was rather accepting of the little league. He seemed a bit more concerned that I insisted upon a strong role in the formation of the league and the running of it. I simply had to point out to him that he had duties as Hogwarts Headmaster to concern himself with and that since I was funding the whole thing for the children... well, he couldn't dispute any of that." He smiled smugly.
"I would never have seen you in the position of coach for a little league," Snape observed. "Or coach of anything. Why are you doing this?"
To Snape's satisfaction, it was Lucius' turn to be uncomfortable, although he did mean to get back to what had bothered Dumbledore about him today, later. Lucius did actually fidget, but then he quickly stilled.
"Narcissa has been concerned, of late, that I have been distancing myself from Draco. She does agree with me that he needs to be taught what his responsibilities are..." his voice faltered. After several seconds of staring into the flames, he spoke softly, "I am trying very hard not to be Abraxas, Severus. My child, for as long as he lives, deserves a father he can... love." Lucius smiled, knowing that he probably sounded soppy and foolish, but he trusted Snape to keep the momentary lapse to himself. "My son showed me today that I am able to be that father. We are going to have fun."
Snape smirked, a dark glimmer in his eyes. "Well, now that you have completely come undone, Lucius..."
The older man winced falsely, grinned wryly, and then called for a house elf.
A smaller than usual house elf popped into Snape's quarters and bowed as she wrung one pointed ear. "What may Kiki do for masters?"
"Tea," Lucius requested curtly. "Make it strong. I don't want a hangover tomorrow." The house elf bowed and popped out.
"I do have a Hangover Potion," Snape mentioned.
"Narcissa says that I rely too much on my potions," commented Lucius. "She says that if I must drink, then tea and something to eat before bed is better."
Snape made no comment. Inwardly, he smirked at the 'poor, trapped, married wizard'. The Potions Master had every intention to stay away from a well-meaning wife for as long as possible.
A few minutes later tea arrived and the conversation turned to Harry and the Dursleys.
"The investigation of the Dursleys has begun," Lucius informed. Snape recalled that the older wizard had mentioned a contact in the Muggle world.
"Has anything been discovered?" asked Snape.
"Nothing yet on Harry, but it is alarming what the Dursleys allow with their own son. He's morbidly obese," scowled Lucius.
"Is not the cousin the same age as Harry?" Lucius nodded, and Snape frowned. "Then, he is eleven. How can an eleven year old child be morbidly obese?"
"If you can believe it, Severus, the child is nearly 14 stone over normal weight." Lucius shook his head as Snape's eyes widened in shock. "Mrs. Dursely appears rather thin, but her husband is nearly 30 stone. The investigator reported that a week's worth of shopping included four roasts, two hams, and enough sugar to kill a horse. On behalf of the cousin, the investigator is anxious to report the parents."
"Would that be enough to bring in the law?" Snape inquired.
"It's doubtful. The parents might receive a warning at most and the child would be put on a diet. As it is, though, if you are to adopt Harry without interference from Dumbledore and the Ministry," reminded Lucius, "then we cannot bring in the interference of the Muggle law enforcement agencies. Once we have Harry securely in your hands, then I'll have the investigator do what he wishes on behalf of the cousin."
"Then how am I to legally adopt Harry without the Ministry knowing?" Snape frowned, annoyed and frustrated.
"First the Dursleys must give up all rights to their nephew. I brought the paperwork that they need to sign, so if you wish, we can take care of that this weekend." Lucius smiled at some of the relief that was reflected in his friend's contemplative expression. "As to the adoption, I've been informed by a contact at the Ministry that there is no way for it to be done without the knowledge of the Ministry and rousing Dumbledore's suspicion."
Snape glowered, "Then there's nothing to be done! I'm going to have to let that old fool send Harry back to his relatives this summer."
Lucius gave the younger man a smug smile. Snape glared at Lucius knowing all too well that the older man had a trick up his sleeve and had waited until the last second to tell Snape in order to rile him up.
"Are you going to let me in on your monumental secret, Lucius?" Snape demanded caustically.
Lucius deliberately paused as he lightly tapped his fingers against his cup of tea. "Well, you must know that this is considered Dark magic. By today's definition, that is."
If possible, Snape's glare became darker and his impatience was simmering just beneath.
Lucius smiled, "It is a potion, which I think you'll approve of, and a spell, well, more of incantation. A ritual, I suppose..."
"What. Is. It?" Snape bit out through clenched teeth.
"Cruor mea cruor," Lucius said simply.
"Blood of my Blood?" Snape had obviously never heard of it and waited a bit more for an explanation. "That sounds like a blood adoption."
"It is more than just a blood adoption, Severus. Although the blood adoption we are familiar with creates a link between parent and child, it is a magic that can easily be corrupted, such as turning someone into the slave of another."
Snape nodded knowingly. The blood adoption that had recently been labeled Dark Magic was rather too close to the Imperious Curse.
Lucius continued, "Cruor mea cruor would make Harry your own child as if you and Lily created him yourselves." Snape blushed at this and Lucius smirked. "It seeks to weave not just parent to child at a cellular level, but a magical one. Ministry law might not recognise it, at first, but Magical law would as it is unbreakable and incorruptible."
"Is it considered Dark because of the blood?" asked Snape.
Lucius nodded. "Just as all Blood magic has been declared Dark, so this is." The scoffing tone in his voice reflected how ridiculous he thought this arbitrary ruling was.
"It sounds as though I could wind up in Azkaban, and Harry would wind up back at the Dursleys," Snape commented skeptically.
"Cruor mea cruor would never need be mentioned, Severus. After taking the potion and performing the ritual, if the Ministry required a Familial test you and Harry would clearly and irrevocably register as father and son." For a moment Lucius' smile remained, and then it faded. "The drawback is that as soon as Harry were declared your biological son, he would lose his inheritance to the Potter fortune."
Snape sneered, "There is no 'Potter fortune' to inherit!"
Now it was Lucius' turn to frown in puzzlement. "What of an accounting, Severus?" asked Lucius knowing that in his hands was some of the accounting.
"All the properties were sold in order to purchase smaller homes in the Muggle world as safe houses. That includes the Potter estate and all the furniture and effects within the manse. Lily's jewelry was sold for food to supply the safe houses." Snape waved his hand in annoyance. "There is practically nothing left for the boy."
"That's preposterous!" thundered Lucius. "Thomas Potter was worth five million galleons when his son married Lily! Are all the properties gone as well?"
Snape stood and went to his desk that he usually did grading at. He pushed aside some paperwork and then picked up a piece of parchment. He handed it to his friend who took it. "I asked the goblins for an accounting after we left. This is what they sent."
As Lucius perused the document, his silent outrage grew. Seven properties had been transferred into Dumbledore's name and then sold. The portion of the Evans estate that had been left to Lily upon her parents deaths had also been transferred to the Headmaster and liquidated. Personal belongings of James and Lily were listed in the small, goblin script, and showed that all items had been auctioned off. Even small, inconsequential things like Harry's baby clothes and toys had been sold.
Only two million in assets were shown, and Lucius guessed that Thomas and his son may have committed much of the rest of the estate while they were alive to the cause of Light. On both sides of the war, many wealthy families were poor due to their over-generous natures. Abraxas Malfoy had committed nearly half of the Malfoy wealth to the Dark Lord, but, as Lucius would admit without embarrassment, the Malfoys were very old money, as the Blacks were, and had money even they couldn't account for.
Lucius snapped the parchment back at Snape who sent it floating back to its place on his desk. "By what right did Dumbledore manage that?" asked Lucius. He sipped at his cooling tea, and was irritated that he felt the need for more whiskey.
Snape merely shook his head. "I cannot say. I have written to the goblins asking just that question, but they have not replied, yet. I am loathe to dig further as it is possible that Dumbledore might learn of my inquiries and find reason to distrust me."
After several quiet minutes in which Lucius rid himself of the cold tea, he remarked, "Well, if you are going to do the Cruor mea Cruor, then Potter's estate is no matter. Harry will be your son and heir."
Snape stared at the fire. "I will do anything to keep Harry safe, but he should have something of Lily's... and... Potter's." Snape recalled the invisibility cloak that Dumbledore had. Harry would probably never see it, now.
Lucius turned and Summoned the list from the goblins at Gringotts that Snape had just returned to his desk. "Allow me to keep this, Severus. I will have another agent see what he might be able to recover." He sighed, feeling the exhaustion of the day overtake him. Rising, he laid a hand upon Snape's shoulder. "Saturday morning, Severus."
Snape nodded, still staring at the flames in the fire. He never saw Lucius leave his quarters, and he had forgotten to ask about what Dumbledore had been angered at.
5 Oct 1991, Saturday
Harry, Hermione, and Draco were sitting on the steps to the entrance of Hogwarts. They had just finished breakfast, and Harry and Draco were trying to think up some entertainment so they could avoid their weekend homework. Hermione was half-listening to them as she read her Transfiguration textbook.
"We could go look at the monster," Draco tossed out there.
Hermione's head shot up and she glared in warning at the two boys. "You heard what Professor Snape told us. Do you want to get into trouble with him?"
Draco frowned at Hermione. Harry replied, "Let's just try and forget about it, okay?"
"But don't you think we ought to show it to Hermione?" persisted Draco.
"I don't want to see it!" she stated.
"Just drop it, Draco," said Harry with irritation. He rubbed the heel of his hand against his scar.
"What's wrong, Harry?" asked Hermione.
"I don't..."
"P-p-pardon me, ch-ch-children," stuttered Professor Quirrell as he stepped out of the castle. He paused and look down at them. Harry winced and Draco scowled. The DADA professor tried to smile at them, but it was weak and insincere. He chose to walk quickly away from them.
"Harry?" Hermione asked softly when their DADA professor was some distance down the path that led to the gates of Hogwarts.
Harry rubbed his scar and then shook his head. "I'm fine."
Hermione was going to press the point, but a sharp nudge and a scowl from Draco made her sigh and stick her nose back in her book.
Draco wrinkled his nose. "He stinks."
"Yeah," Harry agreed. His scar still ached, but it was fading. He resisted rubbing it again. "He smells so badly of garlic I wonder if he's trying to ward off vampires."
"Could be, but there aren't any vampires at Hogwarts," replied Draco.
"Vampires aren't real, are they?" Harry asked in disbelief.
Hermione intoned, with a mocking, deep voice, "I hear rumours that Professor Snape is a vampire."
That sent all three of them into peals of laughter. The rumours about Snape being a vampire were an old one, and a flimsy one. Really, the only thing anyone could pin the man down on were his black clothes. Many children had seen him eat, and everyone, including those that weren't Slytherin, knew that the wizard must have his morning cup of coffee. Draco was sure vampires didn't care for coffee, and Hermione gave him a knowledgeable nod.
"Hasn't anyone ever seen him out in the daylight?" asked Harry with a touch of sarcasm. After all, their teacher had been to the little league tryouts and that was a sunny afternoon!
"I am rather fond of the sunshine," spoke a familiar voice behind them. All three yelped or squeaked and turned to face the teacher they'd been discussing. He lifted his hand and began to curl each finger down as he recited, "I have never imbibed a student's blood in detention, I have a reflection, I do not have a bat as a familiar, nor am I a bat Animagus, and it is werewolves that howl at the moon, not vampires."
Draco snickered and Harry smiled. Hermione blushed for having brought the silly subject up.
"Shouldn't you three be running around like young maniacs avoiding your homework until Sunday?" he asked sternly.
"I'm studying for Transfiguration, Sir," Hermione asserted.
"So I see, Miss Granger," he frowned down at the textbook. "You really do need to play more." He summoned the textbook and her bookbag. Letting out a reluctant protest, she tried to snatch the book out of the air. Snape put the textbook into the bookbag and then shrunk it and pocketed it. He said, "It will be waiting for you after dinner. Mr. Malfoy, Mr. Potter, if you go down to the Standing Stones, look around their bases. You will find some interesting pebbles. I am certain, Miss Granger, that you shall be able to identify them." Snape then shooed the three children off the steps and watched them as they ran down a path towards a curious set of Standing Stones that one passed right before reaching the Quidditch pitch.
Renewing his Warming Charm on his outer cloak, Snape pulled on his gloves and made his way down the path to the gate where he Disapparated.
-The Dursleys-
A few seconds later, Snape was in front of Malfoy Manor. He passed through the wards and walked up to the front door and firmly knocked. Only a few moments passed before the door was opened by a house elf that showed him in and to the parlour where Lucius was going over some paperwork. Upon the older man's nose were a set of silver rimmed spectacles with half-moon shaped lenses.
"Reading glasses already, Lucius?" Snape needled.
"For a little while," he said folding the spectacles and tucking them into an inner pocket. "I have an appointment with an Oculist in Paris next year who has created some very fascinating spell work to aid in correcting the vision in aging eyes."
"It sounds experimental," Snape said with some skepticism.
Lucius nodded as he rolled up his paperwork and tucked that into an inner pocket as well. "It is, but the Healer has a sterling reputation and I quite hate these glasses."
Lucius led Snape to the Floo. Snape threw in the glittering, black powder. "Mrs. Figg's home, Privet Drive!"
Nearly a minute later there came Mrs. Figg's bright voice, "Severus, dear! Is that you?"
Lucius cut his snicker short as Snape scowled at him. "Mrs. Figg, may we come through?"
"Of course, dear. Come along!" she called gaily.
"You first, dear," chuckled Lucius.
"Shut up," muttered Snape as he stepped through.
Mrs. Figg assisted the two wizards with unsolicited advice as they transfigured their clothing into more modern looking Muggle clothing. Both wore trousers and boots. Lucius wore a more formal looking suit beneath an expensive, handmade wool coat. Snape wore a simple cotton shirt, a tie, and a suit coat jacket that matched his trousers. He wore a longer coat of heavy, pressed felt. They were then ready to visit the Dursleys.
Petunia Dursley was in her perfectly clean kitchen baking cookies to go with the cake she had just finished. Dudley was upstairs chatting online with his friends and probably playing his latest computer game with them. Vernon was in his favourite chair in the living room, on his third beer, as he watched a game. When a commercial came on he flipped to another game and watched that for a few minutes.
At first, no one heard the precise three knocks upon the front door. A second time, Vernon heard it, but he ignored it. He never opened the door. It wasn't his job. A third time and it was Petunia, just as she was taking out a sheet full of cookies, that heard the knock.
"I'll get it, Vernon, dear. Don't bother yourself!" she called from the kitchen. Petunia quickly divested herself of apron and oven gloves and trotted quickly out of the kitchen, and to the front door. She primped her hair, put on her best smile of welcome, and opened the door before her visitors could knock for a fourth time.
Petunia's smile began to falter as she eyed the two, rather official looking men on her doorstep. One had absolute hair of white that was neatly tied back at the nape of his neck. He smiled unctuously at Petunia. The man's companion was much more sullen and had the air of a salesman about him. Petunia's smile was now gone.
"Yes?" she asked falteringly. "Is there something I may do for you?"
Lucius spoke, and to both Snape and Petunia's surprise, he held out what appeared to be a small, plastic holder for Muggle ID. "Wizarding Childrens Services, Mrs. Dursley. Might we come in?"
At the mention of the word wizard, Petunia frowned darkly. A hard look came into her eyes and her thin lips pursed together tightly. She did not reply to Lucius, but turned to her husband.
"Vernon! It's them!" She screechingly hissed.
Even though his wife's voice was a hissing whisper, Vernon knew that tone and it ripped through his pleasant beer induced buzz, sobering him up instantly. He sat up, and as quickly as he could with his bulk, he got up from his chair and went to the door. He stepped between Petunia and the offending freaks.
"You took the boy to school, so we're done with him," sneered Vernon. Snape recoiled as spittle flew from the man's mouth.
"Might we come in and discuss this, Mr. Dursley?" Lucius' demeanor was open and friendly, but there was steel and threat in his voice. Vernon backed up quickly and Petunia had to step out of the small hallway to avoid getting smashed by her husband.
"Get in!" snapped Vernon. He watched with beady eyes as the two wizards waltzed in as easy of you please. Vernon slammed the front door shut.
Lucius sat down in Vernon's favorite chair while Snape disdained all of the furniture and conjured his own; a simple wooden chair. He sat primly, opposite Lucius. Vernon and Petunia seated themselves on the sofa. Snape noticed that the sofa creaked ominously on Vernon's end. He was tempted to nudge the distressed wood so it would drop the fat man, but Snape stayed his wand. He needed the Dursleys signature. Retribution would come later when there was no way possible that Dumbledore could interfere.
Vernon spoke again before Lucius could, revealing another transgression by Albus, "That old one, Dunneldore, he wrote us some ridiculous letter telling us that Harry was well. I wrote that old fart back and told him, and now I'll tell you, we don't want that freak to return!" Snape stared, his astonishment only showing for a moment. "If you're here to tell me I have some sort of responsibility to him, I'll tell you what I tried to tell Dunneldore when he dumped that thing on my doorstep; he isn't ours!"
Freak! Thing! Snape wanted to hurt them, but a warning glare from Lucius calmed him. He scowled at the Dursleys.
"We have come to tell you that Harry Potter will not be returning, Mr. Dursley," Lucius replied, as though completely oblivious to the fat man's indignation.
Vernon hesitated. He frowned. "Dunneldore changed his mind?"
Snape interrupted. He wanted to know what 'Dunneldore' had told the Dursleys. "What did Albus Dumbledore tell you?"
Petunia bit out, "He told us that her son was coming back in the summer and that we weren't to touch him."
Vernon sneered, "Went on about abuse and all that, but that old freak obviously doesn't understand what a trial the boy is. There's nothing wrong with a smack or two..." The large man halted in his justification of his abuses towards Harry when he saw the look of hatred in the dark man's unflinching gaze.
Lucius rose from the recliner and held a form out to the Dursleys. He felt as angry as Snape did, but he had to get the younger man out of there before he decided to indulge that anger. After all, it was a bit too soon for that.
"What's this?" Vernon asked staring at the form, but not taking it.
"By signing this, you will be giving up all rights to Harry Potter," Lucius summarised the form simply.
A glint of pleasure appeared in Petunia's eye. "So, he won't be coming back?"
"Never," replied Lucius with an oily tinge to his voice and a similar, oily smile upon his face.
Vernon still hadn't taken the form and when Petunia reached for it, he grasped her wrist to stop her. "That Dumbledore said something about protections, Pet. I haven't a problem in letting the boy be someone else's problem, but are we safe?" He glared at the two wizards. "We don't want any of your kind coming around us anymore. Are we safe?"
"I can assure you, Mr. Dursley, that there is no one in our world that is at all interested in you and your family." Lucius then glanced quickly over at Snape. He gave the younger man a slight smirk that neither Vernon nor Petunia saw.
Petunia snatched the form, rose, and went into the kitchen where she had a drawer with a pen. She took that out and quickly signed the form. She then marched from the kitchen, back to the living room and shoved the pen and the form at her husband.
"Pet," he began dubiously.
"Sign it, Vernon," she ordered. "I don't want him back in our house and I don't want him anywhere near Dudley."
Vernon took the form and the pen, and then signed it. Lucius plucked it from the fat man's sausage fingers, rolled it up neatly, and gave the Dursleys his most charming smile. "Before we depart, I'd like to make certain that all of Mr. Potter's belongings are returned to him. Did he leave anything behind? Is there, by chance, anything you might have that belonged to his parents?"
"There's nothing here," declared Petunia. "And, I never wanted anything of Lily's. You may leave. Now."
Neither Snape nor Lucius bothered to return to Mrs. Figg's house to use her Floo. They both Apparated on the spot to Malfoy Manor.
-Malfoy Manor-
Dobby the house elf at Malfoy Manor brought tea for his master and his guest. Snape was reading the document that the Dursleys signed. He had read it countless times before, but he did so again to help him to not think about the Dursleys dismissive attitude towards Harry.
"Lucius, Harry is without a valid guardian, now. Since it will take me a little over a week to brew the potion," Snape did not mention that it had taken the week just to assemble the ingredients. "Cannot anyone lay claim to the boy?"
Lucius settled into his favourite chair and stretched out his legs. "Check the document again, Severus. It might be a bit obscured by the legalese and flourishes, but you have temporary guardianship of Harry Potter."
Snape squinted at the document and finally found the section, written in the tiniest of scripts. Lucius Summoned a magnifying glass and handed it to Snape so he could read the tiny print. After several minutes, Snape glanced up.
"So, I have 30 days from today in which to 'verify your paternity' claim," he quoted. "What paternity claim is that, Lucius?"
Lucius Summoned another document that he handed to Snape. Snape flashed him a look of question but said nothing as he read it. "A petition to claim that you are the biological father of one Harry James Potter."
"Will Albus see this?" Snape questioned as he removed a short 'Never-Ink' quill from his pocket.
"Double-Blind confidential, Severus," smirked Lucius. "On both documents. Not only will Dumbledore never know of this petition's existence only you, and I, as your representative, will ever know of it."
Snape sighed, "But he will know that his guardianship of Harry is being usurped."
"Dumbledore will not know a thing until he receives formal notification that his custodial guardianship is terminated in favour of Mr. Potter's biological father," revealed Lucius. "I would not put it past him to remonstrate with you, Severus, for this… deception."
Snape signed the petition and handed it to Lucius. He recalled Lucius' remark about the Headmaster's dark looks during the little league tryouts. "You think he suspects something already," stated Snape.
"Not an adoption or anything of that ilk. I believe that Dumbledore does not care for the bond that is developing between you and Harry." Lucius tapped his lower lip as his grey eyes sparkled thoughtfully. "If he had been Sorted into Gryffindor, would the Headmaster have insinuated himself more into the child's life?"
"Undoubtedly," Snape confirmed. "Albus seemed the paragon of concern until Harry was Sorted. Minerva is not one who is close to her Lions and Harry was obviously looking for someone to champion his cause, whatever it entailed." Snape grimaced slightly as he thought of how his treatment of Harry, had he not had the chance to get to know the child, would have played right into Dumbledore's machinations; sheltering the boy from the big, bad, greasy git of the dungeons. It soured his stomach.
-Meanwhile, at Hogwarts-
The Standing Stones were located along a path that led to the Quidditch pitch. They were several yards off the path and many students over the years had found the stones to be a place to play or to seek shade during warmer days.
The Standing Stones consisted of nine stones total of roughly hewn bluestone in the shape of tall rectangles, the tallest being five times the height of Draco. Only five of the stones still stood in a vague circle. The four remaining stones had fallen. One had fallen against its standing neighbor, a second had fallen into the circle, a third had also fallen against its neighbor, but it had broken into three large pieces – two within the circle, and one just outside it, the fourth stone had fallen just behind another of the still standing stones.
Each of the three friends went to one of the still standing stones and began to examine the many pebbles at its base while Hermione recited from memory their history.
"In Hogwarts: A History, it says that the stones were here before the Founders built Hogwarts. The Founders believed that it was Merlin who had constructed the circle which was similar to Stonehenge, but it held a much more powerful magical vibration."
Harry interrupted Hermione. "Are the stones magical?" he asked.
Hermione touched the stone she was near. "Well... I think they're considered magical. Bluestone is just a form of limestone that if you throw water on it, it turns dark blue and limestone really doesn't have any sort of magical power itself."
"You're wrong," said Draco shaking his head. "See, this is what you Muggleborn don't know. Everything in nature has power. It's neither light nor dark, its just power. When the Founders were looking for a place to build Hogwarts, they were all practitioners of Elemental magic."
"Earth, wind, fire, and water," nodded Hermione. "But magic isn't really referred to as Elemental anymore."
"It ought to be," said Draco. "All of our magic is based upon the Elements but back in the Founders days a witch or wizard was defined by the Element they were most skilled at manipulating."
"Their magic was more specialised," concluded Harry correctly. "So what does that have to do with the stones being magical?"
Draco stood and looked to Hermione and Harry who were waiting for his answer. Draco placed a hand against one of the stones. "That's obvious; earth. The stones are from the earth and that magic is one of the most powerful. The Earth connects everything in the world."
Harry smiled at that as he touched the stone he was near. He could feel, just barely, as his magic reached towards the stone and he felt a pleasant surge of belonging overwhelm him. Draco snickered at the sudden expression of bliss on his friend's face.
"See? Harry's magic knows these stones still are magical," declared Draco.
Hermione was curious and walked over to Harry. "Do you feel something, Harry?" she asked.
Harry didn't answer right away as he searched for the words to describe the sensation. "It's... uh... just a rightness..." He couldn't explain how he felt soothed, grounded, and how his mind felt like it had been cleansed. The words were there, but it felt intensely personal, like a really good secret that you want to keep as long as possible to yourself. Harry removed his hand from the stone. "Could you feel anything?"
Hermione touched the stone, but shook her head. "You can't," said Draco. "You're a mud... sorry!" he exclaimed at Hermione and Harry's frowns. "I mean, both your parents were born without magic so you can't feel it. Father says you have to have at least two parents that are magical, even if there are Muggles in your ancestry."
Hermione considered this. "So, if I married a wizard, my children would be able to sense Elemental magic?"
Draco nodded.
The conversation seemingly ended, they went back to looking for interesting pebbles. After several minutes, Draco was excited when he thought he found, "Gold! It's gold!"
His other two friends hurried over to examine the pebble that had angular pieces of what did appear to be gold jutting out from it. Hermione took the stone from Draco. "It isn't gold. It's pyrite."
"That looks like gold," Draco said stubbornly as he snatched the rock back.
"Fool's Gold," insisted Hermione. "It just looks like gold, but it really isn't."
"It's gold, so I'm keeping it." He stuffed the rock into his pocket and bent down eagerly to find more.
Within a half an hour they found granite, mica, feldspar, a geode that they broke open on one of the fallen Standing Stones, and more pyrite. By then, their fingers were getting cold and they were ready for a warm fire and some lunch. Upon their return, they ran into Snape and Lucius walking up the long pathway from the entrance gates.
"Did you find anything?" asked Snape.
"I found gold!" Draco announced as he pulled out the three stones he'd unearthed that he was determined would be gold.
Lucius picked up one of the stones and examined it. "Pyrite," he stated. At his son's look of disappointment, he added. "Nevertheless, a valuable stone out of which to fashion amulets of protection." Draco's face brightened. Lucius gave his son a small smile. "Keep these and when you are home for the holidays I shall show you how to make amulets for the three of you."
"Great!" Although the stones were not gold, Draco was happily anticipating the holidays for when he and his father would turn the stones into something very useful.
"Professor," asked Hermione as she held out one of the broken pieces of geode. "I wasn't sure what this was. Do you know?"
Snape took the geode and examined the small, purple crystals. A brief smile appeared at the edge of his mouth. "Amethyst, Miss Granger. If you use it in an amulet, it will allow you to clear your mind and focus your magic. If you grind up the amethyst, it can be used to create the base for most poison reversing potions. An excellent find." He complimented the girl and she blushed.
"Sir," spoke up Harry, "could you make an amulet with the pyrite and the amethyst that would protect you, yet help with magic like... like what you've been teaching me and Draco?" Neither Harry nor Draco had told Hermione of their Occlumency lessons so Harry was being cautious in mentioning it by name.
Snape put his hand to Harry's back and ushered them all inside as it was getting colder. As they walked he replied, "I think that such an amulet would be quite efficacious." Harry gave him a questioning look and Snape smirked. "An amulet would provide a desirable result, Harry."
Harry smiled and was relieved. So far Occlumency lessons seemed to have kept the horrible nightmare with the unicorn from returning. Snape didn't know, but Harry was still experiencing regular nightmares. At least they weren't every night. He could only think that a powerful amulet could help him do better with Occlumency. Maybe, he thought hopefully, I can learn how to make amulets with Draco.
The Trio were about to split away from the two wizards and towards the Great Hall for lunch, when Lucius and Snape motioned for them to follow. They headed down into the dungeons where they went into Snape's quarters.
"Hang up your cloaks and get in front of the fire," directed Lucius. He sent his outer cloak to the line of hooks on the back of the door to Snape's quarters. Snape was already there, hanging his cloak. He was joined by the three children who divested themselves of cloaks, hats, and gloves.
"Boots, too," ordered Snape as he looked down at their muddied boots. Harry sat on the floor to take his off. Draco leaned against the door to slip his boots off. Hermione tried a charm to remove her boots, but only managed one boot and the sock that went with it. To the snickers of both Harry and Draco she scowled, sat down where Harry had sat on the floor, retrieved her wayward sock and put it back on, then took off her remaining boot. Finally Hermione joined her friends who were already sitting close to the hearth with their feet nearest the warm fire. A few minutes later, Snape was draping each of them with warm shawls he'd Transfigured from clean handkerchiefs. He was quietly thanked by each child.
Lucius seated himself in one of the wingback chairs while Snape went into the kitchen to prepare tea for himself and Lucius, and hot chocolate for the Trio.
Once everyone had a mug of something hot in their hands, Snape allowed a few long minutes to pass before he spoke. He was blunt, but he watched Harry carefully as he informed the boy that they had been to visit his relatives.
Harry couldn't stop the flinch that came, but he was able to temper it. Even so, he was a little confused by the ghostly feelings of old aches and pains that mostly his uncle had inflicted. Those faint reminders of his past threatened to send him into a panic and he tried the breathing exercises his professor had taught he and Draco.
Snape was pleased to see Harry's breathing even out after he noted the panicked hitching. Harry was using what he learned in Occlumency lessons to calm himself. He did notice there was still a tightening of the muscles signaling that Harry was still nervous. Snape further enlightened him as to what the visit had been about.
"Your aunt and uncle have signed away their rights to you." Again, Snape was being blunt on purpose. Lucius, by the glare he was throwing the Potions Master's way, didn't approve. However, Snape thought of Harry's family as a dirtied bandage that needed to be ripped away quickly to prevent further harm to a festering wound. It was harsh, but he didn't want the boy to hold onto any irrational fear that he might be sent back to that home. Or, Merlin forbid, he didn't want Harry to dwell on the possibility that someday his family might accept him.
Harry couldn't speak for the panic was welling up in him like a sour stomach trying to expel its contents. All thought of his breathing exercises were forgotten as he silently wondered about where he'd live in the summer. Would anyone want him? Could he stay at Hogwarts? Or, God no, I'm going to an orphanage!
Uppermost in his mind, though, was the sickening thought that his family, as despicable as they were, didn't want him. Nobody wanted him. Nobody cared...
Harry turned sideways so he could look into his teacher's eyes. The child's expression was full of turmoil, confusion, fear, so many emotions that it made Snape sick at heart.
"Harry," Snape said softly, leaning slightly forward, "I care." A very private man, he was none too happy about having to show his feelings for the frightened boy in front of Draco and Hermione, but they were Harry's friends. Snape knew that fear would linger and doubt would plague the boy and it was up to his best friends to assure and to remind him that Snape would see to his welfare; that someone did, indeed, care. In time, he was certain that Harry would realise that more than the Dark Man cared about him. His friends cared, too.
Harry took a few measured breaths as he nodded at Snape. Hermione laid a hand on his forearm. "S-sir?" Annoyed by his stutter, Harry took another few breaths before continuing his question. "What about the summer? Where will I live?"
Snape couldn't reveal to Harry the plans for the adoption just yet. If anything were to go wrong, he didn't want to be the one to crush the child's hopes. The least he could do was to assure Harry that he would have someplace to live. It wasn't enough, though.
Draco piped up, "You can come live with us!"
Lucius silently balked. He had been unprepared for his son to offer Harry sanctuary with the Malfoys. Draco turned a pleading glance towards his father, but he could not back up his son. "Mr. Potter might be able to visit, Draco, but he will not be living with us. Considering our... diverse histories... it would not be a prudent move."
Although Lucius would not hesitate in offering Harry a home, should that be needed, it would be a terrible risk. The Malfoys were slowly gaining a respectable foothold in wizarding society, but it could be years before the family was once more trusted by good folk. For him, an ex-Death Eater to harbor the Boy-Who-Lived would cause many who had a tenuous trust in Malfoy senior, to falter and return to open distrust and dislike.
Snape was an ex-Death Eater as well, but the fact that the Headmaster of Hogwarts, a powerful wizard, and head of the Wizengamot had vouched for and put his trust in the young wizard, spoke volumes. The man had also been, and still was, a teacher to many young students. They may not consider Snape their favourite of instructors, but Lucius had met past students of the younger man, and not a one did not have a measure of respect for the man in black.
There might be some arched eyebrows, gossip, too, but eventually most of the wizarding world would accept Snape's adopting of Harry Potter.
Harry, though, was still worried. He didn't like not knowing what to expect and although he believed that Professor Snape would find someplace for him to live during the summer, it unnerved him that he didn't know where that someplace was NOW. Wherever it was it would mean learning new rules, the habits of his new family, and there was no certainty that they would even like him. What if he wound up someplace worse than a cupboard?
Harry put the remainder of his hot chocolate on the floor in front of him and pulled the throw tighter around his shoulders as he stared into the mesmerising flames of the fire.
Snape scowled. Harry's fears and worry were becoming a tangible thing in the small living room. He still did not feel it safe to mention the adoption, but he needed to sidetrack the boy.
"Harry, I could use your assistance in brewing a potion," stated Snape.
This roused Harry from his thoughts and he turned, once again, to face his teacher. "What sort of potion, sir?"
"One that I require your help with," Snape replied evasively and with a knowing smirk.
Harry shrugged, then nodded. "Okay. I'll help, sir."
11 Oct 1991, Friday
Harry spent the entire week either after classes or after dinner with Snape in his private lab brewing a very complicated potion. He still didn't know what it was, but he was fascinated by the ingredients, many of which were magical ones he'd never heard of, and it was an odd potion that not only required three different brewings, but also had to be distilled four times.
Harry's favourite part in the entire process had to be using the distiller. It was a delicate construct of shiny brass scaffolding that encompassed various phials, philtres, tubes, and coils of gold and silver. The first distillation took a rather sludgy looking potion (the first brewing) through the distiller where it went through a rainbow of colour changes before ending in the heated cauldron that waited for it, where it turned perfectly clear.
By Friday they were working on the third brewing process when Snape discovered to his disgust, that he was out of Christmas beetle carapaces. Using a very delicate modification of a Suspension Charm, Snape put a halt to the brewing.
"Can I go with you, sir?" asked Harry as he watched his teacher put on his outer cloak.
"Are you not forgetting that you have Quidditch practice today, Harry?" Snape reminded the boy.
"I... yes... but I'd like..." Harry's tongue tumbled over his words as he chickened out on telling his teacher that he'd much rather go to Diagon Alley than practice for the game on sunday."
"I won't be gone long, Harry. I ought to return in time to watch your practice." Harry sighed, sort of happy that his professor would be watching, but disappointed that Snape didn't insist upon him going. Snape frowned, wondering what the boy's drooping shoulders could mean.
Snape slipped on his gloves and then asked, "You are looking forward to your first game, are you not?"
"Yeah, I am," he said with a truthful grin. Maybe I'm hanging around him too much, Harry thought to himself as he wiped at some non-existent dust. Dark Man just needs a break from me. Harry stood. "I guess I'll see you later, sir."
Snape watched the small boy leave his lab. His expression was worrisome, but he needed those Christmas beetles. Pushing thoughts of Harry to the side, Snape made his way out of his lab, secured it with several wards, and then left the castle.
-The Little League Teams-
Some hours later, with the newly purchased Christmas beetle carapaces stored away, Snape made his way out to the Quidditch pitch to watch the practice.
Two teams had been created from those that tried out for the little league. The assistant coaches, with the aid of each team, devised names for each of their teams.
Fred and George Weasley were the assistant coaches and they split up to one of each of the teams.
Fred was the assistant coach of the Silver Dragons. Harry Potter was Seeker, Draco Malfoy, Megan Jones of Hufflepuff, and Kevin Entwhistle of Ravenclaw were the Chasers. Justin Finch-Fletchly of Hufflepuff and Millicent Bulstrode of Slytherin were the Beaters. The Keeper was Gryffindor Neville Longbottom.
George was the assistant coach of the Growling Pixies. Their team was made up of Blaise Zabini as Seeker, Teddy Nott of Slytherin, Mortimer Howe of Gryffindor and Morag McDonald were the Chasers. Wayne Hopkins of Hufflepuff and Terry Boot of Ravenclaw were the Beaters. The Keeper was Ravenclaw Mandy Brockelhurst.
The Silver Dragons and the Growling Pixies played a good practice game. Snape thought all of the players to be well matched, including Neville and Mandy who basically allowed the other team to score because both kept dodging the Quaffle instead of knocking it back into play.
Nearly the entire school had come to watch the practice and Snape, and other staff members, were gratified to see that cheers came from all four Houses for each team. The older students seemed to understand that although the Quidditch Little League was for the youngest in the school, it meant as much to the first years as the regular Hogwarts Quidditch meant to its players.
As the assistant coaches directed their players to the showers after the practice match, Snape joined Lucius on the pitch.
"What do you think, Severus? Do you see a clear winner?" asked Lucius.
"Growling Pixies," piped up Minerva McGonagall behind them.
Snape gave the older woman a good-natured sneer as he asked, "Is that because the Silver Dragons have the dubious Mr. Longbottom as their Keeper?"
"Mr. Longbottom is regrettably no worse than Miss Brockelhurst is," commented Minerva. Turning, the older witch watched as Hermione, still in the stands, gathered up her books. "I had hoped that Miss Granger might tryout. I think she would have done better than Miss Brockelhurst."
"Not everyone views Quidditch with the same zeal as you do, Minerva," Snape countered.
Minerva turned back and gave her colleague an imperious scowl. "Even had the girl not made one of the teams it would have shown loyalty towards her House. I am, frankly, disappointed that Miss Granger has not made more of an effort in Gryffindor."
"Miss Granger is being shunned by nearly her entire House, Minerva. The girls in her dorm constantly ridicule the child. Have you never questioned their excessive points losses and detentions?" snapped Snape.
Minerva narrowed her gaze at the younger wizard, "As you are always targeting my Lions, Severus, I rarely view your justifications for taking points and giving detentions. I merely balance that by doing the same to your Snakes."
Snape was so angry he could not speak. It was Lucius who intervened, "Considering that I expect the Board to approve Miss Granger's re-Sorting in a few days..."
Minerva crossed her arms over her bosom and glared at the patrician, "The Board does not have the petition, yet, Mr. Malfoy."
Lucius' eyes narrowed sharply, "And why is that, madame?"
"Miss Granger's Head of House must approve the petition before it goes before the Board of Governors. As I am her Head of House, that means I must approve the petition. I have not. Yet." Minerva did not back down from the elder Malfoy's scowl.
"She is unhappy..." began Lucius.
Minerva interrupted, "Many first years are not happy, at first, Mr. Malfoy. Like any other child, Miss Granger will adjust." With that the Deputy Headmistress spun aside to stride away from the two wizards.
Lucius grasped the older witch by the forearm to stop her. Snape's eyes widened at the risk his friend was taking. Minerva, even at her age, was a formidable duelist.
"Miss Granger has been hexed twice, madame. What if she gets hurt?" demanded Lucius.
Minerva yanked her arm from Lucius grip. Snape could see a portion of the witch's wand in her hand. "Does that truly matter to you, Mr. Malfoy?" she seethed. "Isn't this sham of a sponsorship just another political bid to ingratiate your family name into polite society?"
Lucius did not answer the older woman's question. He merely threatened, "Hermione's welfare is on your shoulders, then, Deputy Headmistress. If she is harmed, in any way, by her House, you will have more than just the Board of Governors to deal with!" It was Lucius who strode away, not hearing Minerva's indignant 'hmmph'.
"Was that wise, Minerva?" asked Snape a little too smoothly.
Her colleague's subtle, and unspoken rebuke, was lost upon the Gryffindor. "That man needs to learn that he can't bully everyone to his way of thinking!"
"And you, Minerva? Are you that adamant about keeping Miss Granger in your House that you would go against her peace of mind?" chided Snape.
Minerva, who had remained watching the disappearing figure of Lucius Malfoy spun sharply to face Snape. "This has nothing to do with the girl's peace of mind, Severus! Miss Granger is making her life difficult by not conforming to those around her. And, she has made it worse by thinking she can bring in adults to enforce her selfish desires!"
It was Snape's turn to aim his outrage upon the older woman. "Selfish? Do you have blinders on when it comes to what your Lions have been doing to that child? That youngest Weasley boy has yet to hide those looks of hatred and revulsion he aims, daily, at the girl. I have no doubt he'll try to hurt her if he thinks he can get away with it!"
Minerva scoffed, "The Weasley children are pranksters, Severus! Not a one of them would hurt another. They aren't bullies."
Snape was stung by the older woman's tone. He had, unfortunately, heard it before. Aimed at him when he had tried complaining to the Deputy Headmistress that four of her Lions were bullying him.
"You had better see to it that Miss Granger receives no injury, Minerva," Snape's low voice cut across sharply, full of warning, "or you will find my voice to be one of the complainants to the Board."
Snape turned angrily away, leaving Minerva to bluster her indignation to the cool breezes.
13 Oct 1991, Sunday
Sunday afternoon brought the very first Quidditch Little League match. It was a rather chilly but fun carnival atmosphere as parents arrived to watch the game. Hot chocolate, tea, and coffee were all being served by the house elves to the spectators in the stands and whatever other snacks or drinks that might be requested.
Hermione sat with Narcissa so she could cheer on both teams. Snape had wanted to sit with them but he'd been getting increasingly dark looks from the Headmaster, so he sat with the staff in the staff box.
Dumbledore stood when the teams assembled on the pitch, pointed his wand at his throat, and his voice rang out clear over all the spectators.
"Welcome students and welcome to the parents of our little leaguers. Today we are holding the very first match between Hogwarts very own Quidditch Little League, the Growling Pixies versus the Silver Dragons!" The Headmaster waited until the cheers and applause died down before continuing. "Mr. Malfoy?" Dumbledore called down to the aristocratic coach in his splendid uniform. "Are we ready?"
Lucius glanced quickly at his two teams, and then at two of his five coaches who would be referees during the game. They all nodded to him and so he tossed the Snitch into the air and then jogged off the pitch. Moments later he was on a broom at the fringes of the air-field so he could monitor all his players.
The small, gold Snitch darted teasingly between Blaise and Harry before shooting straight up as high as it was allowed to go. Blaise smirked at his opponent while Harry just grinned and went after the Snitch. With a laughing growl Blaise was behind him.
Draco was a very good Chaser and Lucius found himself, oddly, cheering twice, out loud, when his son shot the Quaffle past Mandy Brockelhurst. He chided himself for doing so. He was the coach of both teams, so he needed to encourage both sides. However, when Draco scored a third goal, he shouted in delight, again. And then tried, unsuccessfully, to cover it with a cough.
Snape had his eyes upon Harry and was unaware of the slight smile that resided at one corner of his mouth as Harry flew like an expert on his broom. The whorls and loops did make his heart stop a few times, but nearly halfway through the game, he felt so confident in the boy's flying skills that he wasn't worrying quite as much as he had been.
The score was a close one with 90 for the Silver Dragons and 110 for the Growling Pixies. Everyone was cheering for the Snitch to be caught before time ran out. Harry could have caught it a few times, but he wanted to allow the scores to increase. He and Blaise did rather well in keeping each other away from the Snitch.
With the crowd shouting and cheering on Harry and Blaise, Harry made his bid for the Snitch and the second he saw it, he raced after it.
Just as Harry was reaching for the Snitch and victory, his broom dipped down sharply out of his control and then to the left. Harry grabbed the front of his broom to prevent himself from falling as he re-balanced himself. There was no chance for him to do that as his broom shot up, then down again and began shaking him roughly side to side like a dog with a chew toy.
Harry tried to hold on but it was impossible. Unaware of the screams and shouts the broom viciously shook, jerked, and Harry was soon falling off.
Due to the little league regulations the players could only fly to eight feet in height. However, Harry had been shaken so hard that his senses could not keep up; he blacked out.
In the stands, Hermione's eyes darted to the spectators the moment Harry's broom began moving erratically. She was confused to see Snape, his eyes like a hawk upon Harry, as he chanted something. Fearing the worst, she slipped away from the Malfoys and towards the teachers box.
Hermione approached the teachers box from underneath and that's when she heard Professor Quirrell's voice; low, steady, and not a whisper of a stutter. Hermione couldn't hear Professor Snape, though.
Making her decision quickly (and hoping she was right), she took out her wand, pointed it at the grey drape of Professor Quirrell's robes, and quietly spoke, "Lacarnum Inflamarae!"
A small ball of blue flame shot from the end of Hermione's wand and lit the hem of Professor Quirrell's robes on fire. Within seconds there was a shout from the stuttering man as all the teachers in the teachers box scrambled to put out the fire.
"Miss Granger!" Hermione froze. Glancing through the steps she could see her teacher glaring daggers at her. "Down on the pitch! Now!"
Hermione noted that Snape was nowhere to be seen.
~Seconds before Hermione set Quirrell's robes to flame~
Snape wanted to investigate who was causing Harry's broom to buck and roll but he couldn't. He had to keep his eyes upon the boy and to keep chanting the counter-curse. Too soon he realised, that it wasn't enough. One more sharp jerk from the broom and Harry could no longer hang onto it. His teammates made a mad bid in trying to catch him. Fred and George dove into the melee, casting spells to keep the firsties from all colliding with each other.
Snape broke from the teacher's box just as a voice rang out, "Arresto Momentum!"
"Finally, you old goat!" hissed Snape under his breath as he continued nearly running down the rickety stairs to Harry.
The Headmaster managed to slow Harry's fall but he couldn't stop it completely. The boy drifted, gently now, down to the ground where he settled upon the grass. He was joined, moments later, by the assistant coaches and his teammates. He blinked as he began to awaken.
"Step aside!" Snape ordered gruffly as he pushed his way through to Harry. The second he knelt with one knee beside the slightly dazed boy, Harry threw his arms around the older man. Snape hoisted Harry into his arms and stalked off towards the castle.
Fred frowned at his twin. "Did you hear what I heard?"
George echoed back, his frown a mirror of his twins, "Did you hear what I heard?"
They both nodded to each other. They had both heard the little Seeker call Snape 'daddy'.
Before either twin could muse upon Harry's imprecation, there was something new to pay attention to. Behind them they could hear their Head of House, and she was angry. With both teams now on the pitch, assistant coaches and teams, watched as Professor McGonagall dragged a wailing Hermione Granger, by her ear, to the castle. Their eyes followed as teacher and student passed, apparently oblivious to their audience.
"...from my House! Miss Granger! I can't believe your audacity! Setting fire to the robes of a teacher! There is no excuse! No excuse whatso..."
Fred and George chuckled to each other as they took a moment to watch their Head of House disappear ahead of them. "Granger's a bit of a spitfire, isn't she, Gred?" observed George.
"Indeed, Forge. We may have underestimated the little firstie."
"Didn't you hear?" demanded their youngest brother, Ronald, as he ran across the pitch with Dean and Seamus behind him. "That bushy-haired, moron just lost our House 100 points!" Fred and George just laughed. They'd each lost three times that much during their years at Hogwarts.
Fred, however, gave his little brother a look of concern. The feud between the House of Gryffindor and the young Hermione, had been doing its best to die down. Ronald, though, and his two friends, Dean and Seamus, continued to stir the pot. Fred could see by the angry expression on Ron's face that retaliation against the little girl just might get worse.
-The Infirmary-
An hour later McGonagall was stepping through the doors of the Infirmary to see how Harry was. Snape quickly apprised her that except for two handfuls of splinters, which happened while he was trying to hold onto his broom, Harry had come away uninjured. Madame Pomfrey had treated the child for shock, and he was now asleep, tucked firmly beneath the white hospital sheets and blankets that smelled of lavender.
"I am glad to see that Mr. Potter came out of this relatively unscathed, Severus." Minerva said a bit too stiffly.
Snape glanced up at the older woman. "You have something to ask of me, Minerva?"
The witch actually shifted on her feet before speaking. "You had already gone down to the pitch before this happened, but... I caught Miss Granger beneath the teacher's box. She'd set fire to Professor Quirrell's robes."
Snape's shock only registered as a widening of his dark eyes. "Whyever did she do such a thing?" he asked.
Minerva shrugged, but mostly in frustration. "I wish I knew. Miss Granger refuses to tell me anything."
"And Quirrell?" asked Snape.
"Holed up in his quarters. You know how he gets if any student plays a prank on him," she mused. Snape merely nodded. It was an unfortunate fact that none of the students liked their DADA professor. To be more precise, they didn't care for how he smelled; like garlic gone bad. So far he had suffered through a series of taunts from all the Houses, and a few pranks, but none quite as injurious as setting fire to his robes. An obviously sensitive man, such teasing and pranks always sent him to his rooms where he, more than likely, wallowed in self-pity for several hours.
After several minutes of just watching Harry sleep, Minerva spoke up again. "Perhaps you can talk to her, Severus," suggested the Deputy Headmistress.
Snape turned in his chair and looked up at the severe woman. "Why me? She is one of your Lions, is she not?"
Minerva ignored the barb and replied, "Miss Granger seems to have more respect for you than for me. I'm sure it did me no good that I took 100 points from Gryffindor and gave her a week's worth of detention."
Snape smirked thinly as if in agreement with the punishment. Inwardly, he wondered why Hermione had done what she had done. She was not one to prank anyone, and certainly not a teacher! No, such a punishment wouldn't help his colleague's case at all. "Send her to my office before dinner, Minerva. I shall speak to her."
Minerva gave Snape a curt, acknowledging nod, and then left the Infirmary. Snape leaned over to brush the hair that was most assuredly growing too long from the child's forehead.
-Hermione Granger-
By the time dinner came round, Madame Pomfrey had released Harry from the Infirmary after his nap. He felt refreshed and ready to find Draco and Hermione. He ran off, out of the Infirmary, glad to leave the antiseptic place behind.
Hermione, on the other hand, was halfway to Professor Snape's office. She had spent most of the rest of the afternoon on her bed with the curtains drawn. Professor McGonagall had forbade any and all excursions to the library so she was unable to find any respite there. For a half hour after her confinement to the Tower, her roommates had come in to tease her unmercifully. Hermione had put her pillow over her head and cried as quietly as possible.
For awhile Hermione had slept from simple, emotional exhaustion. It was only for an hour, though, so she'd retrieved her bookbag and read through her textbooks and had begun work on a Charms essay. She had planned to skip dinner, when the little note from her Head of House had arrived ordering her down to the dungeons to speak with Professor Snape.
Hermione had put on her school robes and then made her way down the stairs and into the Gryffindor common room. It was there that she unfortunately encountered Ronald Weasley, Dean Thomas, and Seamus Finnegan.
Weasley sat by the fire, glaring at her. Dean stood up from a round ottoman he'd been sitting on and pointed a finger at her, "100 points, Granger!" he accused.
Seamus piped up, "Keep it up, Granger, and you'll have us in negatives before the official Quidditch games start!" He glared tautly and slumped down further on the other end of the sofa.
"Watch your back, you Slytherin slut," ground out Ronald.
Hermione would have hexed the boy, but her sharp eye caught sight of his wand, in his hand, merely hidden by the drape of his robes sleeve. She nearly ran from the common room with the sound of laughter fading behind her.
Several minutes later Hermione had reached Snape's office. The door was open, but she couldn't immediately see her teacher. She knocked firmly, peering in before stepping over the threshold. When half a minute had passed without an answer, Hermione stepped into the office.
Snape's office wasn't a pleasant place, but it was interesting. An arched, enchanted window shone with natural sunshine through amber and green coloured, diamond shaped panes. Halfway up the arched window were shelves crossing in front of the glass. Various glass bottles of coloured, hand blown glass were upon the shelves. Some had liquids in them, others were empty. Hermione had the suspicion that these shelves and their contents were merely decoration.
Bookshelves lined two walls and for a long moment her attention was held, spellbound, as she silently read dozens of the titles on the spines. In the middle of one of the bookshelf lined walls was a section of shelves that held a disturbing collection of preserved... things. Hermione's lips grimaced at the sight and she turned away from them.
The last wall was taken up by a large fireplace in which flames burned, warming the office. Hanging over the mantle was a regal looking portrait of a dark-haired gentleman from possibly the 15th century. Hermione had no idea who he was, but he gave her a congenial nod before returning his gaze to the book he was reading.
"Thank you for being so prompt, Miss Granger," said Snape as he swept in through a door she hadn't seen before that led to his classroom. He indicated she was to take one of the two wooden chairs in front of his large desk as he seated himself behind it.
Hermione took a seat, folding her hands primly in her lap. Her back was stiff and barely touched the back of the chair.
"You may relax, Miss Granger. You are not in trouble," he remarked. The girl only relaxed slightly.
Hermione cleared her throat before asking, "Is this about what I did at the game, sir?"
He nodded. "It is, Miss Granger. I am hoping that you have some explanation for having set Professor Quirrell's robes on fire." He frowned in puzzlement. "I would not have expected such a prank from you."
Hermione's gaze dropped to her hands as she clasped them tightly together. "It wasn't a prank," she murmured.
"Then what was it?" he asked firmly.
There wasn't an immediate reply from the girl. When she did speak, it wasn't what he expected. "Sir, why were you hexing Harry?"
He blinked, giving himself a few extra seconds to form his answer. "It was a counter-spell. Someone, I do not know who, was jinxing Mr. Potter's broom."
"Someone was trying to kill him, sir," she countered softly.
"Perhaps," he spoke softly.
Hermione lifted her head as she looked directly into her teacher's eyes. "No," she said firmly. "If Harry had fallen he could have broken his neck. Someone wanted him dead." She bit her lower lip and her gaze fluttered nervously down to her lap as her hands fidgeted uneasily.
Snape watched the child, concerned about the waves of fear that nearly rolled off her visibly. He had been somewhat surprised by her declaration that someone had tried to kill Harry, but supposed that maybe he shouldn't have been as Miss Granger was a very observant child. It had irritated him that most of the staff had written off the incident as a problem of the magical restrictions on the broom for the safety of its rider. It had further rankled him when he'd gone to speak to the Headmaster about the accident and it was waved off as something that Madame Hooch would investigate 'when she had time'.
How could that old goat be so cavalier about Harry's life? Wasn't Harry Potter supposed to be the Saviour of the Wizarding World in Dumbledore's eyes?
Hermione spoke up, "Professor Quirrell was chanting, too." Snape hissed, caught off guard by the statement. "I know hardly anyone likes the professor, sir, but I really think he doesn't like Harry."
"Why do you say that?" asked Snape shrewdly. "Have there been any more incidents in his classes?"
"Nothing like that one time, sir," she replied, almost reluctant to give away a confidence. "But Harry does get terrible headaches in class and Draco told me that he's still having nightmares. Draco can't hear them because Harry's casting a Silencing Spell, but he always gets up afterwards and paces. Or, sometimes he gets sick."
Hermione glanced worriedly at Snape as the fingers on both his hands drummed out an angry pattern on the arms of his chair. After several minutes of watching the man's expression deepen and become darker, he waved his hand at her in silent dismissal. The atmosphere was so oppressive that Hermione was happy to be on her way back to the Tower.
Snape grimaced to himself. He had hoped that Harry's nightmares were done with, but obviously not. He doubted there were any more nightmares with the unicorns for Hagrid had informed him several days ago that the unicorns had vanished from the Forbidden Forest. Other magical animals were also nowhere to be seen, and the Centaurs, usually very hidden creatures, were in force throughout the Forest.
The Potions Master knew what he needed to do about Harry's nightmares; it was a simple charm he often used with his first years that alerted him to when a child was having a nightmare. Many of his Snakes came from less than ideal homelives and they sometimes suffered from terrible nightmares that could only be soothed away by a calm voice and hot chocolate laced with Calming Potion.
Snape would use the same spell upon Harry. He would also continue to teach him Occlumency.
For the moment, though, Snape was concerned, no, alarmed by what Miss Granger had told him about Quirrell. Very little was known about the odd wizard. He was just one of many DADA instructors, and like those before him, more than likely wouldn't see another year in the position.
Quirinus Quirrell, from what Snape did know, had been a world traveler. He'd written one book, that Snape had borrowed from the library to read. It was called, Living With Vampires: A Practical Guide to the Undead.
There was no new information about vampires whatsoever to be found in the book. As a matter of fact, it appeared to be a collection of information that could be found anywhere wrapped in lurid prose that read like Bram Stoker's novel, Dracula.
Snape had been tempted to burn the missive, but, it unfortunately did not belong to him so he only returned it.
The Headmaster had told Snape and his staff that Quirrell was retiring from his travels and hoped to settle into the position of Defense Against the Dark Arts instructor. They had all seen the wizard's resume and had to agree that it was impressive looking. Quirrell had been a part of many archaeological projects, from the wizarding side, and had quite a bit of experience in antiquated magic, which included the Dark Arts.
Snape never admitted it to anyone, but he had secretly been hoping for a rich conversation with the wizard, despite his vapid book, over the many things he'd learned during his years of travel and work on archeological digs. He'd been sharply disappointed. First, the man had a terrible stutter that made just normal conversation all but impossible, and second, he smelled horrid!
More than once, during staff meetings, Snape wanted to rip that ugly, purple turban off the man's head, and give it to a house elf to burn. Just being around the man made Snape itch. The turban reeked of garlic, but the man's body odour was nearly as foul.
Is it enough to cause a child to suffer headaches?
Snape doubted that.
Could it have been Quirrell that cast the curse that affected Harry's broom?
The man would have to be watched, of that Snape knew there was no doubt of. The question, though, was should he say something to the Headmaster? Snape sighed in resignation. He had no choice but to do so.
Rising from his desk, Snape adjusted his teaching robes and then left his office. He might be just in time to reach Dumbledore in his office before the man headed to the Great Hall for dinner.
Hermione walked up from the dungeons, across the Entrance Hall, and into the corridor that eventually led up to the Gryffindor Tower. It was a long walk and one she had begun to allow her body to memorise. As her body flawlessly walked the route, Hermione's thoughts were able to focus on Professor Quirrell.
Hermione held respect for all of her teachers, including the infinitely droning and boring Professor Binns who taught History of Magic. Respect, though, didn't exactly mean she liked all of her professors.
In DADA class, Professor Quirrell routinely ignored her. He didn't bother with snarky epithets towards her hand raising (which had toned down quite a bit, thank you), nor did he give points, praise, or even comment when she did answer a question.
However, Professor Quirrell did that to everyone.
More often than not, he lectured, and with his stutter it was generally a painful thing to endure. Practical lessons had been few and far between, and Hermione thought that when there was a practical, it was done in such a way that it always caused harm to someone. Afterwards, Professor Quirrell was apologising so much she was surprised he didn't fall prostrate upon the floor offering up his first born for his foolish transgressions.
It really made everyone just about ill.
His lectures made little sense, too, when she thought hard about it. They seemed more stream-of-consciousness rather than thought out, and planned discourse.
Then, there were those odd times when the professor would say nothing at all and would simply stare. Oftentimes at Harry. Professor Quirrell's stare never seemed menacing; more like he was studying an odd growth of fungus. That was when Harry's headaches would turn into a migraine in class.
Harry was very good at ignoring his pain, but not that good at covering it. Both she and Draco knew Harry was experiencing headaches because he would either squeeze his eyes shut tight, or rub incessantly at the scar on his head.
Several times Hermione and Draco had suggested Harry go to the Infirmary, which he would refuse. Hermione's argument had suggested that he ask for a potion for the headaches, but even the hope for relief wasn't enough for Harry to do anything about them.
Hermione hoped that by finally saying something to his Head of House, who seemed concerned about her friend, that Harry would finally get sorted out. She smiled to herself as she turned the corner.
"Time to pay the piper, Slytherin slut!"
Updated 5/2015
