31 Oct 1991 - Thursday, Halloween

The Silver Trio were back together at the Slytherin table, huddled, whispering. The twins Weasley and Neville Longbottom had joined them but there was no conversation. If they were looking forward to Halloween Snape doubted it. Their spirits were just not as excited as all the other students were.

Snape glanced over at Minerva to see how she was doing while he awaited the appearance of his breakfast. There had been no word, yet, from the Board of Governors about her position with Gryffindor. The Transfiguration professor had been quiet since leaving the Ministry. Something he had expected. Snape hoped resolution would come soon.

A full day of teaching, and then a night filled with over-sweetened children, and overly hormonal teenagers to watch over, Snape mused, as he sighed at his breakfast. At least Dumbledore's rosebushes, a popular hiding place for teenaged couples to seclude themselves, would be free of his minor Blasting Spell this year. Snape expected that it would be Minerva who kept her eye upon such things with the older years at their ball. He would be dealing with the lower years, which allowed him to watch over his son.

Snape stabbed at his sausages with his fork, brutally impaling one upon the four tines. With his knife, he sliced it smoothly into bite sized pieces that he did away with forthwith. Coffee, very strong and bitter, followed the sausage giving Snape some sensation that he would survive this day.

The Potions Master glanced over at the Slytherin table to watch as the twins had begun to entertain the Snakes with some sort of legerdemain juggling act in order to shake the Trio from their ennui. He glared as he caught his son's worshipful appreciation of the identical redheads. Although Fred and George were doing well in watching out for the youngest Snakes (Minerva was sure those two had adopted all the first year Slytherins), Snape was not sure he wanted his son to worship the Weasleys as heroes.

"Severus, stop staring at Harry before you burn a hole in him," chided Minerva.

He glanced over to see a letter in her hand that she had not opened. "From the Board?" he asked astutely.

She nodded, tapping the edge of the letter by her plate. Impulsively, Minerva shoved the letter at him. "Would you?" she asked a bit nervously.

Snape took the letter, eying the older witch. "Worried?" he asked as he broke the seal.

"I'm fairly certain as to what they decided, Severus, but I'm not overly inclined to read it." She tapped her fork into her eggs as her colleague unfolded the letter. "Don't read it. To me, I mean. Just tell..."

"They have relieved you of your Head of House duties," Snape summarised bluntly. He knew Minerva would appreciate his brevity. "The position is to be taken over by the new Deputy." Minerva sighed, a small smile gracing her lips. "I take it you were hoping for this, Minerva?" He folded the letter and dropped it beside her plate.

"Albus would never have let me go, Severus," she spoke softly, although their conversation was well concealed by the other teachers chattering over their breakfasts, and the students in the Hall. "His favours aren't always the blessing he intends them to be."

"You were easily manipulated," he said cautiously.

"I was, then, a young girl infatuated by an older man," the witch scoffed. Snape smirked and she inclined her head towards him. "And..." she paused, smiling wryly, "I was easily manipulated."


Snape strode briskly across the front of his class as he looked at his students. Two Gryffindors dared to continue chatting over some silly gossip after he had begun class. "Miss Brown! Miss Patil! Your gossip is hardly germane to my class. 10 points each! Everyone, take out your books and turn to page 149."

He swept towards his chalk board, waved his hand over it, and a potions recipe began writing itself on the board. Behind him was the uneven swish of textbooks being retrieved from bookbags and pages rapidly being turned. When the noise had died down, he faced his students once again. Giving all of his first year Gryffindor/Slytherin Potions class his sternest expression, he began his lecture.

"Today we are brewing an Itch Relieving Paste. As only a few of you actually read the chapter on this particular potion," he stated as he strolled down the main aisle between the students and took a moment to glare at most of the Gryffindors and the two blockheads, Crabbe and Goyle. "We shall see what was read. Who can tell me why we are using grapefruit seeds as opposed to pineapple extract?"

Snape's lips thinned in irritation as the majority of students looked hopelessly at the open pages of their textbooks. One hand on the Gryffindor side rose hesitantly and with a curious and intrigued sigh Snape addressed the student, "Mr. Longbottom, can you truly enlighten us?" The Board of Governors had also, unfortunately, removed Minerva from all extra duties until after the Yule Break. That meant Neville Longbottom's reading had fallen to the wayside. He chided himself for not knowing if any one had or would be taking over the lessons.

Neville gulped. Next to him Hermione nodded in encouragement and Snape frowned, very slightly, in question. His newest Snake gave her Head of House a very small smile. After a second nervous swallow, Neville tried his best to ignore that the entire class was staring at him.

"Grapefruit seed and pineapple extract p-p-p-provide the same reac... I mean, catalyst for the paste." Neville's eyes blinked rapidly in his nervousness.

Snape's arms folded over his chest as he waited, with interest, for the rest of the answer.

Neville took another breath, glanced over to his partner, Draco, who also gave him a nod of encouragement. "W-w-we're using grapefruit seed because it's... uhm... it's less explosive than pineapple extract if something should g-g-go wrong." The boy let out a huff of nervous air and his shoulders drooped as several muscles relaxed. Harry suppressed a grin, just barely, at the Gryffindor.

"Adequate, Mr. Longbottom," mused Snape. His eyes then narrowed sharply. "I wonder, Mr. Longbottom, would you be able to expand upon your explanation and tell us precisely why one ingredient is more volatile than the other?"

Neville's head snapped up and he gave his teacher a frozen look of fear. Snape's neutral expression became a disappointed glare. Draco elbowed Neville who let out a yelp as he blurted, "The alkaline in the Grape seeds is released slower!" The boy glanced up at his teacher, his cheeks little red cherries with embarrassment. "Sorry, sir," he whispered.

"There is no reason to be apologetic, Mr. Longbottom," sniffed Snape as he whirled dramatically back to the front of the classroom. "Your answer was correct. Five points to Gryffindor."

Once his teacher was no longer looking at him, Neville shot grateful looks to Hermione, Draco, and Harry. They all smiled at him swiftly before they were caught by their teacher.

Snape turned abruptly and centered his attention on, "Mr. Malfoy." His voice purred with warning. His Silver Trio were up to something and he would uncover this little mystery by the end of class.

Smile gone, spine stiff, Draco replied respectfully, "Yes, sir?"

"You read the chapter." He lifted his wand towards his textbook and with a wave it snapped shut. He turned sideways and with another twitch of his wand, the chalkboard flipped so no one could see the recipe. "Tell me, Mr. Malfoy, how many ingredients are used in this variation of the Itch Relief Paste?"

Without hesitation, Draco smirked as he replied, "Seven, sir."

"Ten points to Slytherin," he declared and nodded to the boy. As he turned slightly, a decidedly evil smirk touched his lips, and his gaze focused upon another Gryffindor. "Miss Brown!" The girl squeaked and looked up at her teacher with wide eyes. Snape waved his wand and her book shut with a loud crack, causing her to jump. "Tell me one of the seven ingredients in this potion."

Lavender's jaw dropped and she looked quickly for help from her friends. The Gryffindors had learned one important lesson in Snape's class and that was, if you were called upon to answer a question, no one was allowed to come to your assistance because that only meant a points loss. Seeing that she was on her own, Lavender tried to open her textbook, but it was tightly closed. Finally resigned to her fate, she sighed and gave her answer.

"I don't know, sir," Lavender replied pitifully, hoping that a glance of her puppy-dog brown eyes would engender some sympathy.

Snape scowled at the girl. He was immune to puppy-dog eyes. "Obviously you deemed it unnecessary to pay attention to Mr. Longbottom's answers, Miss Brown. He mentioned two ingredients. Five points from Gryffindor," he ground out. Neville slumped angrily at his hard won points being so easily thrown away. Without removing his disapproval from the lazy girl, Snape called out, "Mr. Longbottom! You were paying attention. Give me one ingredient in this potion!"

Neville's eyes brightened as he straightened and promptly replied, with confidence rarely seen in Snape's class, "Milkweed, frog's liver, white dittany, flax seed, Sogrief's kefir, papaya root, and pineapple extract that we're substituting with grapefruit seeds."

Snape turned slowly to eye the boy, his eyebrows rising up in surprise. "Indeed, Mr. Longbottom." Snape was impressed and if the smug looks of his three Snakes were any indication, they definitely had something to do with the Gryffindor's recent academic achievement. He eyed his Snakes and the dark glimmer in his eyes told them, you are not getting off this easily! Suddenly he was leaning over Neville who pushed back against his chair, nearly withdrawing his head into his shoulders. "If you can acceptably brew this potion, Mr. Longbottom," he intoned in a deep, silken drawl, "you will earn twenty points for Gryffindor." A stunned silence fell over the class. Straightening and marching back to the front of the class, Snape barked, "Well? Get started!"

The class was stirred into action. Benches scraped the floor and a frenzy of shoes upon the stone floor hurried into the ingredients cabinet. Within ten minutes, flames sputtered beneath the cauldrons and everyone was chopping, dicing, and shredding their ingredients.

Retreating to his desk, he seated himself before a stack of essays. He picked up his quill and dipped it in the ink, and then solemnly intoned, "Miss Granger, Mr. Snape, and Mr. Malfoy, you will stay after class." Once he heard their polite acknowledgments, he began his grading.

Potions class finally ended and with a brusque order to his students to fill their sample jars and bring them up to his desk, Snape spoke no more. One by one he collected the jars, quickly checked each one to make sure it was labeled properly, and then placed each within a wooden box.

Neville Longbottom made his way to the front of the class, practically pushed forward by Hermione and Draco. Harry followed, but tried not to snigger. Upon reaching his teacher's desk, Neville held out his sample, his hand shaking so much that it dropped from his fingers.

Snape caught the falling jar and lifted it up to look at it. It was pale green and when he swirled the sample, the contents did not move. Snape removed the lid. sniffed the contents critically, then dipped his pinky finger into the green paste and drew out a small bit of the potion. He rubbed his thumb against the pad of his little finger.

Still studying the paste, Snape spoke solemnly, "Mr. Longbottom, I would be very interested in knowing how you managed, not only a nearly perfect Itch Relief Paste, but you answered a question in my class without requiring smelling salts." His gaze thinned in calculation. "Has the Wit-Sharpening Potion I allowed you caused that much of an improvement with your reading?"

Neville flushed quickly glanced between Draco, Harry, and Hermione. "I had help, sir," he said with a brave, yet slightly tremulous smile.

"Then I believe you ought to avail yourself of that assistance again. Dismissed." He waved his hand sharply to shoo the boy out.

"Wait!" piped up Harry as he caught Neville's sleeve, stopping the Gryffindor's rush out of the classroom. Harry's big green eyes looked up at his father. "He gets his points, doesn't he? Sir?"

Snape glowered at his son's reminder. Was it really that bad of him to hope that Longbottom might have forgotten about the points? Harry smiled trustingly at him and Snape let out a melodramatic sigh. He just couldn't find itself in him to ignore such a vote of confidence. It seemed his son was to be his little Conscience. "Very true, Mr. Snape." He then turned his dark gaze to Neville, not changing his exasperated expression. "Twenty points, Mr. Longbottom." His gaze hardened at the boy's brief smile. "See that you keep them!"

"Yes, sir, Professor Snape! I will!" Before anyone could stop him, Neville flashed a grin of thanks to the Silver Trio and raced out of the classroom. Snape regarded his Snakes. "Mr. Snape, tell me about Mr. Longbottom's remarkable performance in class today."

"We… uhm, I mean all of us, Fred and George have been studying together since Hermione was a Gryffindor, and… we're friends…" Harry's voice faded.

"And, Mr. Longbottom is a recent addition?" Snape inquired.

Hermione shook her head bouncing her frizzy curls, "No, Sir." She glanced with embarrassment down at her toes. "Nev had one lesson in reading, Professor Snape, and then I think Professor McGonagall got distracted with detentions and class stuff so Nev's reading lessons were forgot." Snape frowned but did not interrupt the girl. "I was reading Nev's textbooks to him, and helping him with his letters and writing, too. I just decided to keep teaching him to read and write." She shrugged as she let out a heavy breath.

"Mr. Malfoy, Mr. Snape, are you both a party to this improvement I have seen in Mr. Longbottom?" he asked.

"Well, Fred and George have been helping us with our studies in the library and we," he glanced at his compatriots, "and we found out about Nev and Hermione and so we decided to help, sir," replied Harry.

Draco added, "Neville's dorm mates were Thomas, Finnegan, and the Weasley kid."

"Ah," nodded Snape in understanding. Dean Thomas had been expelled and Finnegan and Weasley were on suspension.

"Professor McGonagall assigned study groups by who everyone's dormmates were and Nev didn't have anyone to study with," Hermione completed.

"What happened to the rest of your study group?" inquired Snape in reference to Theodore Nott, Blaise Zabini, Millicent Bulstrode, and Pansy Parkinson.

Draco shrugged before answering, "Pansy doesn't really like the twins and since Teddy and Blaise like her, they just wound up studying on their own, Professor."

Hermione added, "Milli's studying with us, though. She and Pansy just kept arguing." Hermione shook her head.

"Is it okay if we keep studying with Fred and George and Nev, sir?" asked Harry.

Snape frowned lightly. He didn't wish to break up the study group, but he wasn't entirely convinced that the twins were ideal role models for his Slytherins. Then, again, there was Neville Longbottom who was clearly improving with his new study group. Reluctantly he nodded, "For now you can. However, if I hear that any of you are part of Mr. and Mr. Weasley's pranks, you will all be cleaning the Great Hall with toothbrushes."

The boys grimaced at each other. Hermione had no plans to join any pranks, so she wasn't worried about such a detention. She had something else on her mind.

"Sir, Madame Pince doesn't like us studying in the library," Hermione observed. "Since Fred, George, and Neville can't come to our common room, and we can't go to theirs, is there someplace we could study?"

"As a matter of fact I know of an ideal place, Miss Granger." He pointed at one of the shelves in his office that held a variety of preserved things. "Behind that shelf is an unused antechamber. I will open that for you and put in a desk and some chairs." Snape did not mention that it would be the ideal place for him to keep an eye upon his son and his friends.

Hermione was excited about that. "Can we use it tonight, Professor Snape?"

Snape just gave the girl a wry smirk as Draco and Harry both reminded her that it was Halloween and they'd be too busy stuffing themselves with wondrous food and sweets.

The girl blushed, suitably chastened and then asked, "How about tomorrow, sir?"

"It will be ready for you." He then went back to examining the potion samples. "Now. Get out." He waved them off.


Neville was in History of Magic when a house elf popped in with a note for him. Hermione sat near him, and nudged him. "You can read it, Nev," she encouraged.

Neville nodded, broke the small green wax seal stamped with the mark of doubled SS's and read the note softly…

Mr. Longbottom,

I give you one week (7 days to prepare) and then I require you to report to my office 7 Nov at 8pm after dinner. I will be testing your reading and writing progress.

SS

Hermione grinned, and Neville smiled wanly. "That's wonderful, Nev. Professor Snape is going to be so surprised!"


-Halloween - No More Classes for Prof. Snape-

Snape entered the Infirmary to check on Quirrell and found Madame Pomfrey running one of her endless Diagnostic Spells over the still unconscious wizard.

"Will he awaken, Poppy?" asked Snape

"As I told you and Albus last night, Severus, he was weakened by more than 24 hours in the snow and a great expenditure of magic. When the magical core is damaged in such a manner, there is no one who can predict how quick or slow recovery will be," the medi-witch lectured sadly.

The Potions Master clasped his hands behind his back. "Were you able to discover when he was injured?"

"I cast Vestigium vicis. It is a complicated spell, more forensic in nature, and as it was I had to consult with an expert at St. Mungo's to finally get it cast correctly. It aids a healer in the time when an injury occurred." She Summoned a report that was a result of the spell she had cast and handed it over to Snape.

Taking the parchment Snape quickly read the runic results and then looked up in surprise. "Quirrell collapsed the same time Harry did at the Ministry."

Poppy nodded, her lips thinned. "Severus, I never was terribly bright as far as puzzles went, but I have put the pieces together and what I am seeing disturbs me." She sent him a questioning look, but his expression hardened to stone. "Don't shut me out, Severus," she said tightly as she stepped close to him. "I know about Harry's nightmares and I know you have not told Albus of them. Trust me, now, or I will have no choice but to go to the Headmaster with my concerns."

The confrontation from the smaller woman rather threw Snape. He had never had a reason not to put his trust into Poppy and she, in fact, had kept hidden many things he could not discuss or deal with when he was growing up at Hogwarts. It was to her he would go to when he desired a sympathetic ear. When he had taken on the mantle of spy, Snape had insisted that Poppy know what he was doing and even though the Headmaster usually saw him right after the worst of the Dark Lord's meetings, it was Poppy who would nurse him back to health, visit him, or get after him when he was neglecting himself.

"I have always trusted you, Poppy," he said with a touch of chagrin, and not a little hurt.

The medi-witch picked up his hand and clasped it tightly. "I know you have, my dear, and that is why I am angry with you." Poppy drew Snape away from the unconscious man and seated him beside her upon an unoccupied bed. "Severus, I know that Harry is not truly yours." He started to deny her assertion but she captured his hands in hers to keep him in place. "Listen to me. I have kept all your secrets, your worries, and your fears to myself. If you and Lily really had an affair, I would have known it."

"So you say, but obviously it was something I chose not to share with you!" Snape scoffed and tried to yank his hands away, but the medi-witch was stronger than she looked.

Poppy squeezed his hands tightly as she glared. "I am a Healer, Severus. I did a complete Diagnostic Scan of Harry when you brought him after the Welcome Feast. The history I did showed a different DNA profile than the one he has now."

Snape froze. This was one avenue of discovery he had not even thought of. How could he? He wasn't a Healer!

Poppy stroked the wizard's hand to soothe him. "Severus, I have removed that pertinent item from my records for Harry. My dear, I know you would never bring harm to that child so I knew what I discovered had to be covered up." Her fingers then gingerly touched his cheek for a brief moment.

"Harry Potter is my son," Snape persisted but not with the vehemence he normally would have effected. He felt an ache at her touch that had been so fleeting that it had flayed his nerves.

"Please, Severus," Poppy pleaded gently. "Be honest with me as you have always been."

Poppy regarded the young man beside her. In all her years of being a Healer and of working at Hogwarts, no other child had become as close to her as Severus Snape had. She remembered the shy, thin boy who wore second-hand robes that had been patched by an unsteady hand. Severus had needed a Nutrition Potion, like some students did, and Poppy had prepared them and had her personal house elf slip the potion into his food. Over the years Severus had visited her Infirmary more than any other student and her small reward for that time was seeing a side of the child, and soon growing boy, that no one else ever saw. Severus Snape was a passionate, intelligent boy who was deeply sensitive and too often took personal slights too harshly. There were many times Poppy had held the child as he was wracked with tears; the worst time being the death of his mother. The medi-witch had no doubt, that the acerbic shell most everyone knew as the real Potions Master, was shed only for his son, Harry. Poppy knew that there would be nothing he wouldn't do to keep his child safe.

Poppy spoke softly, "I am concerned about Harry, Severus. I know about the nightmares because it was Narcissa Malfoy who mentioned them to me. And before you get indignant about that, she is a mother who was concerned because Draco was concerned and had asked his mother how he could help his friend. I am also concerned because of that report I just showed you. So, tell me, my dearest…. friend..., please, what is going on?"

Snape's shoulders drooped and his head dropped slightly allowing his hair to fall forward and conveniently obscure his features. Gently he tugged his hands from Poppy's and this time she let go. Poppy regarded him critically as he slowly lifted his head. His speech was reluctant, at first. "Dumbledore has maintained that Harry is somehow connected to the Dark Lord through his scar. The Headmaster believes it to be a curse scar. Lucius believes it to be rune magic combined with old Earth magic."

The worn wizard lifted his head slightly, then covered Poppy's hand with his, an unspoken declaration of his full trust. He told her then of the Cruor mea cruor and how it combined his DNA with that of James Potter to the point of obscuring it for most paternity validation tests the Ministry allows.

"So, as far as the Ministry is concerned you are truthfully Harry's biological father," marvelled Poppy. "And, Harry's scar?"

Snape could not, yet, mention how, during the Cruor mea cruor ceremony, Lily had affectionately touched the lightning bolt scar. It had been that simple, ghostly touch that confirmed for the Potions Master that the scar was not something created and cursed by the Dark Lord. He continued, "The UnSpeakable we met in the Department of Mysteries the other day, confirmed for Lucius and I that the scar was from magic fashioned by Lily. She also said that a Fiend, an evil spirit, had rooted itself in Harry's mind through cracks in his mother's protective spellwork." He scowled, "Cracks that had occurred through abuse from the family that was meant to cherish him."

Poppy scowled at the tone in the young man's voice. It was obvious that Severus blamed the Headmaster for the weakening of Lily's magic. Albus Dumbledore was a stubborn, manipulative, old man, and too often she had seen the results of the older wizard's machinations. Before her was her cherished, yes, cherished, wizard who had not only bent under the yoke of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, but that of Albus Dumbledore's lemon drop manipulation. Poppy had sat, figuratively, upon the sidelines where she could only watch as those two wizards continued to hurt him.

Snape grimaced and sighed as he momentarily pinched the bridge of his nose. Poppy, knowing this was a sign of the young man's migraines, Summoned a Migraine Potion and handed it to him. He drank down a portion and pocketed the rest.

"Harry was possessed when he went to the Hall of Prophecy. He..." His dark gaze trapped the older witch's gaze. "Not Harry, but the Dark Lord." Poppy drew in a hissed gasp. Snape continued, his tone soft, "The Dark Lord wove some sort of luring spell that Hermione was able to resist so she wisely came to find us. The spell continued to draw Harry and Draco into the depths of the Department of Mysteries until... well, I think it must have worn off, or Harry, from within a trap in his mind, broke it."

"Whatever were they doing there, Severus?" asked Poppy with great curiosity.

Snape replied through a slight growl, "There was a Prophecy that concerned Harry and the Dark Lord that HE wanted. Harry, obviously and unfortunately short in stature, could not reach the orb so he ordered Draco to retrieve it. When Draco was unable to do so, the Dark Lord intended to kill my Snake. It was Harry, from within his mind, who saved them both. My son used all of his power to force the Fiend of the Dark Lord from his mind by casting a Patronus."

"Oh Merlin's staff, Severus! No wonder the poor child exhausted his magical core."

Snape nodded in agreement. "I also believe that the force of Harry's magic injured the Fiend, which is why Quirrell collapsed."

Poppy glanced in puzzlement at the DADA professor who had not wakened. She then focused on Snape. "I don't understand. Was He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named possessing Professor Quirrell?" she asked in confusion.

"He still is, Poppy." The medi-witch shook her head sadly, pitying the poor wizard. "I looked into Quirrell's mind the night Dumbledore summoned me after he was found in the snow bank in the courtyard. As you already know his magic was very low, but I saw the core and... it was horrid, Poppy," he closed his eyes briefly. "There was so much scarring. I do not know how long the Dark Lord has been occupying the man's mind, but I believe it has not been a willing occupation."

Poppy let out a worried sigh. "Is there a chance Quirinus will survive this?" she asked, looking once again at the mentally injured wizard.

Snape shook his head. "I do not see how that would be possible, Poppy. For some time now the spirit of the Dark Lord, the Fiend, has been parasitically living off of Quirrell..."

The medi-witch interrupted, stopping his recitation with a wave of her hands. "Wait, wait! I am confused, Severus. You said that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named came through Harry, or through the runic sigil that is his scar. Why would that beast then need Quirinus?"

It was a difficult, yet succinct question that the medi-witch asked. Snape had wondered the same thing and it had taken most of an evening asking Harry questions about his dreams to come up with a plausible, and very likely answer. He related that evening to Poppy:

As he and his son spoke, with Harry curled securely against his side on the sofa, the Potions Master learned about his son's angel, Lily, a statue that watched over a pond that held 'evil-looking fish'. Harry's angel had kept the fish in the pond and had 'sent' her son the Dark Man to protect him when stirrings from the fish gave Harry frightening nightmares.

Harry's fingers were nervously playing with the buttons on his father's jacket. Carefully, though, he didn't want to pull off another one. His father might stop his fiddling and in a strange way, it was as comforting as the older man's arm over him.

"When I was ten, I got real sick. There were spots all over my skin so Aunt Petunia said I couldn't go to school and I had to stay in my cupboard. I just felt really worn out, Dad, so I slept, mostly. That's when I found out the fish were gone from the pond during the day." He sighed, a slight smile gracing his lips. "It kind of felt nice. Like how a cool breeze makes you want to run in the grass, or go play in the park." Harry grinned, then. "It's like flying." Harry nodded to himself.

"Did the nightmares come back, Harry?" asked Snape as he laced one of his son's fingers with his own. Harry's hand gripped his in reassurance.

"Nope. But, it wasn't because the monster didn't try, Dad. You were there.. I mean the Dark Man was." He snuggled more firmly into his father's side and Snape adjusted the afghan coverlet that kept his son's feet warm. "When the angel couldn't hold the fish in the pond, you scared him back with the green light. After awhile, the monster left me alone. Until I got to Hogwarts."

"You do know that the monster is Voldemort, correct, Harry?" Snape felt condescending asking, but he felt it important that his son understood the difference.

Harry gave him a mild scowl, as though the older man ought to know that he was smarter than that. "Voldemort is a monster, Dad. He's a terrible and scary thing, and he gives me awful dreams, and he hurt the unicorns and the Centaurs, and... and he almost killed my friend!" Harry pulled the afghan up until it almost covered his head. With his voice partially muffled, the boy spat, "Monsters don't deserve names!"

After that, Harry refused to talk anymore and had wrapped his arms around Snape's waist and within the hour the child had fallen asleep that way.

So, Snape explained to Poppy, "It was the abuse at the hands of the Dursleys that caused Lily's protective magic to crack and allowed the Dark Lord's return as a Fiend, a ghost of evil intent," he repeated with emphasis. "The Fiend was just barely able to exist in a quiescent state within Harry's mind, in a pond as these fish that Harry described as very terrifying to look upon. I believe that as Harry grew older, and the abuse became more physical, the Dark Lord fed on that and was able to leave Harry and to seek out a compatible host; Quirrell."

"Not that I would wish it," Poppy began, "but why did He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named go after Quirrell when he was already occupying Harry's mind?"

"Simply because Harry is a child, Poppy. As you know he will not come into his full powers until he has reached his majority." She nodded knowingly. The medi-witch had fixed many injuries from students taken by surprise by an increase, or more disheartening, a rare decrease, in their magical power.

"You-Know-Who needed Quirinus' magic," she murmured softly.

"Yes, Poppy, and I believe the Dark Lord also required an adult body to solidify his presence. A child's body is..." he thought a moment for the right descriptive word. "...transitional."

Poppy couldn't suppress a snort at that thought. A child's body went through growing pains, emotional upheavals, and the worst transition of all, puberty.

For a long moment, both adults were lost in their thoughts until Poppy suggested something that shocked Snape. "I could end it, Severus. I know Quirrell's allergies and it would be easy..."

"No!" snapped Snape in abject shock. His jaw dropped, wondering how in the world this gentle woman, this Healer, could even think such a thing. "Merlin's teeth, Poppy! I would not have you violate your Healer's Oath with... with murder," his voice fell in volume on the last word.

"Severus!" Poppy hissed in warning. "You know it wouldn't be pain... shush!" she ordered at his growl.

"Do not say anymore, Poppy, or I will think you one of those Socratic Angels that are..." his eyes widened, again in shock, as Poppy glared at him with an unapologetic stare. He shook his head sharply. That was a subject he had no wish to dissect, right now. In frustration, he let out a short puff of air. "Killing Quirrell is not the answer. Besides, if that were done, it might send the Dark Lord back into Harry's mind, or someone else's. We need to discover a way to ultimately destroy the Dark Lord." Snape did not speak of the Headmaster's shady dealings in regards to the Philosopher's Stone and his distrust of Harry. It was far too complicated to broach with the medi-witch now.

Madame Pomfrey rose to her feet, and to Snape's embarrassment she cupped his cheek in the palm of her hand as she looked down into his eyes. "I am not a Socratic Angel, my dear, and it was a terribly foolish, and desperate suggestion. My only wish is to keep Harry, and you, safe."

Snape gave her the ghost of a worried look. "Then, you will not..?" he glanced one last time at Quirrell.

"My Healer's Oath will remain inviolate." Flustered, Snape's cheeks flushed as the older witch kissed his cheek and then Poppy moved away from him, her starched uniform swishing gently.

Closing his eyes, Snape took out the Migraine Potion and swallowed another dose.

This was going to be an awfully long day.


In his quarters about two hours before the party for the lower years began, Snape and Lucius were standing beside an odd, shallow, grey bowl that had a silvery transparent liquid within it. Floating on top of the liquid were milky white, almost misty wisps. The bowl was a pensieve and the wisps were the memories of the Potions Master's meeting with Madame Pomfrey and the Legilimens he performed upon the unconscious Quirrell the night he was found. After they left those two memories, Snape added one more; the discussion he had had with Harry about his dreams, the angel, the pond, and the fish.

Lucius left the pensieve and seated himself in one of Snape's two chairs. Once Snape had replaced the memories in his head, he also sat.

"Thank you for bringing your pensieve," Snape muttered.

"I've been telling you for years that you need to invest in one. Think how useful such a device would be when you attend those boring Potions conventions?" Lucius then stared vacantly at the flames in the fireplace. "I've never seen a damaged magical core, Severus, but even I know that Quirrell's been tortured." He shuddered at the image of a magical core covered in un-healed wounds like a burnt, human limb. At his own memory of Quirrell's mind, Lucius' face went pasty white. Feeling suddenly nauseous and perhaps dizzy, he didn't protest when Snape's cool fingers pressed against the back of his neck and made him lean forward.

"Close your eyes and breathe evenly through your nose," Snape instructed quietly. He knew that Lucius would be feeling the after effects of the memory which included Snape's own feelings of disgust, apprehension, and nausea from when he had looked into Quirrell's mind.

A simple Anti-Nausea Potion would do the same, but Narcissa was very determined that her husband rely upon potions as little as possible. Snape had once made the foolish mistake of arguing with the patrician witch over her prejudice against potions, and to his utter disgust, he had lost. Rather soundly, too. Lucius, of course, had found it eminently funny and had annoyed Snape for days afterwards about the ignominious defeat.

After a long minute, Lucius raised his head and welcomed the glass of fire whiskey that Snape held out to him. He bowed his head simply in thanks before swallowing a few measures of the amber liquid that burned swiftly through him to reside comfortingly in his belly. "I think I missed it, but did you find any sense of Quirrell himself in there?"

Snape shook his head and took his chair. He sipped his own fire whiskey, welcoming the slow burn of the alcohol warming his veins. "I did not, and that rather worries me. At some time he is going to regain consciousness and I do not know if we will be facing Quirrell, or the Dark Lord."

"That is... there was a sense of something unclean, Severus..." Lucius shuddered again and took a second, large swallow of the magical liquor.

"We have felt that sensation before," said Snape flatly as he glanced at his left forearm.

Lucius spared a quick look towards his own forearm where his Dark Mark resided. The summons from the Dark Lord had always felt like an unpleasant touch, a filth of oil, and something deeper, primeval and repulsive. It turned the whiskey a touch sour in his stomach to realise just how close, even through a pensieved memory, he had been to their old master.

"I am appalled at Madame Pomfrey's offer," Lucius tried to say conversationally, yet failed as Snape noted a very slight tremor in his friend's voice.

"It is a pity we could not take advantage of it," Snape said icily, knowing that unemotional taint to his silken tones would steady Lucius' emotions. "Unfortunately, such a simple matter would only do away with Quirrell. We would still have the Dark Lord to deal with and I would not wish to return that thing back to my son."

Lucius asked, "And he is gone from Harry? Did you make certain, Severus?"

"I did. Harry allowed me to look into his mind before the memory of our discussion started."

A garden. Snape had thought that Harry's shields might be something simpler, and perhaps to do with flying. The garden was unexpected, though, and should the Dark Lord ever try to look into his son's mind, the Dark Lord would find it unexpected as well. Glancing down at his son's face, he noted the pleasure that Harry felt at showing the Occlumens shield to his father.

The garden itself was protected by a gated wall of white-wash painted brick. The gate itself, an imposing structure of wrought iron was hidden behind thick growths of ivy. Odd looking ivy with waxen, dark purple flowers. At first, Snape thought the gate, even though cleverly hidden in the tangled web of ivy, was too simple. Were he to try breaking into his son's memories he would have been deterred for a bit by the ivy, but he would have found the gate, and he would have gotten through. Snape soon learned that both the ivy and the iron gate were delaying mechanisms; something he had taught neither boy during their Occlumency lessons. Harry had thought of the subterfuge on his own.

The true labyrinth of his son's mind was in the garden itself. Harry courteously explained how it wasn't just a single flower that protected a memory, but Harry had buried the memories in the roots of flowers, trees, shrubs, on down into the rich, dark soil. Snape had leaned over to touch a rose of electric blue and that's when he caught movement from the purple flowered ivy. The entire garden rustled with the hush of the ivy snaking across the ground as tentative tendrils touched Snape's boot. Harry's hand had gently pulled Snape away from the rose.

"It's the ivy, Dad," Harry said with soft respect.

"A sentry?" asked Snape with astonishment.

"Yeah," Harry smiled down at the tendrils that had menaced Snape's boot. They were lengthening, curling, and several flowers bloomed. A perfume was released that Snape recognised.

"The aroma of the snowbells," Snape gave his son an unrestrained smile.

Harry nodded with a grin. "The ivy can knock you out with the smell, or trip you up, overwhelm you, and..." he peered guiltily up at his father as his voice dropped in timbre, "well, they can strangle you, too."

Snape's eyebrow rose at the guilty expression on his son's face. "What worries you about that aspect, Harry?"

"Strangling. It'll kill someone. Won't it, sir?"

"Only if they believe they shall die, Harry. Any Legilimens that attempts to break into your mind will undoubtedly come out alive." He squeezed Harry's shoulder. "It does not mean that they would not panic, though. Your vine is rather insidious."

"Insidious?" Harry made a note to order that dictionary he'd been meaning to. The more he spoke to his father, he figured, the less he'd be able to understand the man and his big words.

"Dangerous," Snape supplied the meaning. He smirked at Harry and they left the rose, and the vine that was lazily twining its way around the roots of a tree trunk, behind.

"All of that?" Lucius' comment was for that last memory, the tour de force that had been the interior of Harry's mind. "He's only eleven, Severus."

"Before I began teaching Occlumency, Harry was using boxes stored in a cupboard. They were flimsy, some had burst, and there was no organisation to be seen anywhere. The angel statue of Lily was well hidden, though. I did not even know she was there." Snape grimaced as he thought of Harry's relatives. "It was a way for him to cope without losing himself by boxing up and hiding the hurt in the darkness."

Lucius steepled his fingers over his abdomen. "How are Draco's shields?"

"He struggled in settling on something in which to house his thoughts, but he has settled upon a house that is similar to Malfoy Manor," Snape replied. "Our latest lessons have focused on strengthening his visualisation."

"I know it has only been a few days, Severus," Lucius stared, for a moment at the tips of his gryphon leather boots. "Is Draco sleeping all right?"

Snape spoke to Lucius as one father to another, not as the Head of Slytherin House. "I have all the dorms in Slytherin warded with an alarm that allows my prefects to know if someone is not sleeping well. I modified that ward around Draco and Harry's dorm to let me know if their sleep is troublesome," he paused quietly for a moment. "So far, the alarm has been quiet."

Snape stood abruptly. "It is early, yet, Lucius." Snape stretched out his arm as he Summoned his outer robes. "Would you like to accompany me to Surrey?"

A hard and entirely too gleeful gleam glittered wickedly for a moment in Lucius' silvery eyes. He rose to his feet, Summoning his own Winter cloak. "I could use a bracing walk, my friend!"


-#4 Privet Drive-

Dusk had just begun to turn the Halloween sky over Little Whinging, Surrey a greyish tinge. Snow was also starting to fall, but the rush of Muggle children, ostensibly in strange costumes, were not impeded by the fat flakes that foretold of a greater snowstorm to come.

In the midst of the costumes were at least a dozen bored, yet closely watching parents eyes; neither Lucius nor Snape seemed so odd in their wizard robes. What was odd about the pair was that neither was crowded by costumed, sweets hustling urchins.

Ignoring some of the parental stares, the roaming children, the two wizards made their way to a cookie cutter house where the windows glowed appropriately warm and two jack-o-lanterns sat sentinel at the end of a quaint path of curving brick. A set of children, a small princess, a rather patchy looking frog, and a pirate, were escorted by a brusque teenager looking like a pasty dead man with fake stitches criss-crossing his cheeks and fake blood dripping over his lips. Both wizards sneered at the teenager, who glared back as he passed with the younger children.

Lucius watched the children and teenager, almost with an appalled look upon his face. He didn't turn away until he felt a sharp tug upon his sleeve.

"What is all of this... this ridiculous pageantry, Severus?" asked Lucius, clearly feeling as though he had stepped away from the safety of the familiar and into the backyard of the bizarre.

"This is how Muggles celebrate Halloween," Snape declared shortly. "Just ignore it. We are here."

Lucius turned away from the trick-or-treaters and faced the red-painted door to the Dursley household. Again, that wicked gleam came back as the patrician smiled dangerously. "Unless you need me to, Severus, I shall be quiet. Moral support, as it were."

Snape glared at his friend's smug demeanor and turned back to face the door. He rapped sharply upon the wood with his fisted knuckles.

The door sprung open. "Happy Hallooooo-weee-en!" Petunia Dursley's voice was unpleasantly sing-songy and far too cheerful. She held forth a bowl of wrapped sweets, and she herself was dressed as a tulle bedecked fairy princess in pink.

Snape had a sudden flashback to a Halloween night when he and Lily were nine years old. Lily still liked to dress up, but she and her older sister had gotten into a fight when Lily saw the incredibly ugly, and insulting witch's costume Petunia had brought home from the store for her. It had been such a loud fight between the girls that it had drawn Lea Evans from her kitchen whereupon she had whacked the bottoms of both her daughters with a wooden cooking spoon and sent them, both crying horribly, up to their rooms. Snape had felt just sick at seeing his best friend spanked in such an indignant manner and was preparing to run all the way home, when Lea, no longer angry, held out a pumkin and ginger biscuit to the small boy he had been. Taking the peace offering, little Severus had allowed Lea Evans to lead him into her kitchen where they proceeded to make more of the holiday biscuits.

"I suppose you still believe witches have warts, stringy hair, and cackle all day, Tuney," sneered Snape with a sharp scowl. The hated nickname and the realisation that her boyhood nemesis was back, again, made her drop the bowl of sweets.

"VERNON!" she screeched and it took every ounce of self-control Snape had to not wince and hex the obnoxious woman into next week. "Snape!" she nearly spat. "We're done with you and your kind. You have the boy so get out of here!"

"Pet? What's the trouble, dear?" The large whale that was Vernon Dursley lumbered to the front door. Lucius' lip curled in disgust at the smears of chocolate on the man's striped shirt. Vernon's piggy eyes beaded narrowly and he snorted angrily. "Get away from my house, you bloody freaks!"

Snape's wand was out in a blink and its point struck hard against the whale's neck. Behind the two wizards, a new group of children that had come up the walk let out terrified shrieks. Lucius turned to them, giving the youngsters his most charming and disarming smile.

"Quite all right, little ones," he assured them. "A jest between friends." He pulled a handful of what appeared to be galleons from his pocket, but he had surreptitiously Transfigured them into harmless, gold foil covered chocolate. The children would never know that the foil was truly gold. He handed out the chocolate and shooed the happy children down the walk, then joined Snape who was now pushing the offensive Muggles back into their own house at wand point. Lucius closed the front door and muttered several spells that would keep what Snape did silent, and keep nosy neighbors from intruding.

Lucius then went into the living room, sneered at its rather cheap décor, and then smiled like a predator down at the Dursleys who sat upon their chintz couch glaring up at the Dark Man.

Snape briefly removed his glare from the Muggles and glanced at Lucius. Lucius gave him a nod, and then he walked over to the badly brown shaded recliner and Transfigured it into a more sophisticated, and comfortable leather chair. He gave it a quarter turn so he could properly watch the proceedings. He seated himself and elegantly crossed a leg over his knee and leaned his snake-headed cane against his thigh.

"What do you want, Snape?" demanded Petunia furiously.

"Justice," he declared flatly. "I would... like... to kill you both. For Lily and for what you did to Harry."

Vernon interrupted with an indignant shout, "We took him in! Out of the goodness of our souls and the brat told horrid lies about us!"

Snape's eyebrow rose perceptibly. "My son has no reason to lie to me. Especially not after I found him shoved into a cupboard," Snape flicked his wand and the door to the cupboard under the stairs slammed open so forcefully, the wood cracked. Vernon glowered and Petunia let out a squeak. He moved closer. Lucius felt a frisson of old fear trickle down his spine at the glower on his friend's face. It was the one of cold stone that Lucius had seen during meetings before the Dark Lord. He then glanced towards the stupid Muggles who were too dense to realise that they had a Death Eater (ex) who could snap them both like dried twigs.

"Bruised!" Snape's wand flicked over Petunia and she let out another yelp as she felt as though something hard smacked down upon her hand. She yanked the mysteriously injured hand up and cradled it against her thin chest.

"Bloodied!" Another flick of the wand set a vicious slice from Vernon's ear to the corner of his mouth. It wasn't a deep cut, but the blood trickled freely down to the man's chin. Vernon goggled in shock ridiculously as his fingers recoiled as a drop of blood dropped to his hand.

"Broken!" A harsh swipe of his wand and Lucius winced at the twin sound of bones cracking. Vernon let out a grunt, gripping his chest where a rib had impossibly bent and cracked. Petunia was weeping copiously over her bruised hand and now shattered wrist.

"Why are you tormenting us?" wailed Petunia.

"Because you tormented Harry," he purred pleasantly… frighteningly. Snape's voice dropped to a hideous hiss. "He was Lily's son! Your nephew, Petunia. Family. Yet you could not be bothered to once give him a kind word, solace after a bad dream, or food? And you, you great pig!" Snape centered his attention on Vernon who now had his arms crossed over his chest in pain from the cracked rib. "I saw some of Harry's memories. You smiled when you hit him." He stepped even closer. "Does your wife know that inflicting pain upon my child..." his voice lowered dangerously, "was more satisfying to you than her bony frame ever was?" His eyes glittered with a hawkish secret.

"What?" Petunia immediately forgot the pain throbbing in her wrist. She turned to her husband, shocked at the implication.

Snape turned solicitously to Petunia and asked, a bit conversationally, "I believe you remember Edward Blunt, Petunia? Your son's first friend? He lived right next door, did he not? Why were you never curious about his family's abrupt departure from Privet Drive?" He straightened and fastidiously swept at invisible lint on the cuff of his sleeve. "Just as when we were children, you never could be bothered about anyone else except yourself, Petunia. Poor Edward. He is the same age as your Dudley. I wonder how he is doing these days."

Petunia had been staring in puzzlement at Snape. At a strangled gasp from her husband, she turned to him sharply. "What's he talking about, Vernon?" she demanded.

"It's nothing!" Vernon cracked out hoarsely. He glared at Snape. "I didn't touch the boy! His father just got a job and they left!" Deep red shame suffused the man's cheeks.

"Edward was a fast, little boy," Snape scowled in disgust at the whale. "Just as my Harry was. Thankfully, my child is a wizard and his magic kept you from doing more than just beating him." Snape's wand found its way to Vernon's jowly neck again. "It is a pity that despite how fast Edward was, even he was not fast enough to escape a great, piggish lout such as you, Dursley."

Lucius, who had been content to sit back and enjoy the suffering of these miserable excuses for human beings, had sat up at this revelation. His contact here in the Muggle world had not told him of the blubbering man's predilections and he felt angry enough to cut the man to pieces then and there himself.

Petunia rounded upon her husband as shock stained her cheeks pink. "Vernon? What is he saying?"

Vernon's teeth ground out, "He's making it up, Pet. You know how all those freaks lie and stick together." He moved closer to his wife and smiled softly, lovingly as he touched her hand.

Snape smirked in triumph as Petunia jerked instinctively away from her husband. Her gaze then landed upon Snape and she demanded roughly, "I want proof," she hissed in a whisper.

Snape conjured an official looking police evidence folder, and slung it viciously at her. Petunia caught it. Opening the folder she was greeted by four photographs of gentle, happy boys attached to their reports.

Snape recited the names, "Edward Blunt was eight years old. Robert Docent was also eight. Simon Jecks was nine years old. And, Tomas Grier was six. years. old. Tomas has been institutionalised ever since he tried to burn down his house with himself in it when he was seven." The Potions Master inclined his head graciously. "Edward is in recovery, Tuney. I understand his prognosis is… acceptable."

Lucius rose to his feet and strode towards Vernon who began to jibber incoherently. Snape's hand on his forearm stopped. "I shall kill him, Severus," sneered Lucius furiously. "I will eviscerate the Muggle bastard."

Snape leaned towards Lucius and whispered in the older wizard's ear that calmed him enough for him to return to his chair. Snape then returned his attention to Petunia. He glowered down at the pinch-faced woman whose skin had turned a sickly yellow. "Fortunately, your corpulent excuse for a spouse was prevented from committing a worse abuse upon Harry, Tuney, but do not think you are exonerated. It was you that starved Harry to the point where it will take years for his body to fully catch up. It was you that struck his head with a bloody frying pan and damaged his eyesight. It was you who were meant to keep him safe and you let that..." he turned his darkest and most hateful scowl upon Vernon. With a decidedly vicious smile, he finished, "You let that monster near my child." He then straightened to his full and imposing height. "Mark my words, Petunia Evans Dursley. You are no mother, and you never will be again." He then turned his gaze to Vernon who quailed, and rightly so, in abject fear.

A knock upon the front door startled the Dursleys and Snape turned abruptly to face the intruder. Lucius swiftly rose to his feet and flashed a placating smile at Snape. "Quite all right, Severus," he said as he un-tucked a small amulet from his pocket. He held it out long enough for Snape to understand what it meant. "I'll just go and answer the door, shall I?" he nodded solicitously at the Dursleys and quickly made his way to the front door.

Upon opening the door, the red flash of a light began to pulse against the inner walls of the house. A man with greying, brown hair was on the doorstep. He nodded grimly to Lucius.

"Mr. Malfoy, I got your message." He tapped a similar amulet hidden under his shirt. "I listened in and I have with me the local constabulary. Representatives of Children's Services were dispatched after your friend's revelation and they have already picked up Dudley Dursley from a friend's house. I'm sure they're explaining the matter of his parents to him now."

"Very good, Stanley," nodded Lucius. "I want to be kept apprised of the young boy's situation as I do believe that at some point the cousins may wish to repair their rift."

"Certainly, sir. Shall I...?" he glanced over his shoulder to indicate the four policemen who stood grouped together, ready for anything.

"In a moment. I'd like you to meet my friend." Lucius ushered Stanley into the house, but left the door open.

Stanley nodded, and when he saw Snape he stuck his hand out. For a moment Snape stared at the man's outstretched hand, and then he shook it firmly, and quickly. "Mr. Snape, I presume?"

Snape nodded. "And you are Henry Aloysius Stanley Lucius' representative I have recently heard of?" he asked. Snape threw a questioning glance at Lucius who merely gave him a satisfied smirk.

"Detective Stanley of Scotland Yard, Mr. Snape," his heels clicked together as he gave a sharp, half-bow. He looked over towards Peturnia Dursley. He walked over and snatched the folder from her. "Police property, Mrs. Dursley."

"Detective," inquired Snape conversationally, "I have heard that, as in our Azkaban, your Muggle prisons have little tolerance for… predators of children. Is this truth?"

Stanley nodded grimly, "It's a bit of 'honour amongst thieves', Mr. Snape. Children are sacred vessels and his kind," the detective shot Vernon an icy glare, "don't fare well in prison. Short life span, ya' know?"

"And Mrs. Dursley?" asked Snape.

The detective sighed. "Well, without your boy's testimony, they can only use the evidence of the son. Most she'll get is time at the womens halfway house and some community service. Mr. Malfoy asked that I make certain Dudley Dursley is never returned to her, regardless of the outcome of her trial and punishment. Took some doing, but young Dursley will have a fine family to take care of him and the counseling he needs to straighten him out."

Petunia exploded when she heard the way they were speaking about her son. Ice arced through her heart as she screeched, "You can't take my son away!" She rose like a cobra to launch herself at Snape, but he cast a Binding Spell quicker than she could reach him and she fell, unceremoniously, to the floor. Imprecations of a decidedly foul nature spilled from her lips. A Stunning Spell put an end to that.

Snape then did the same to Vernon. He then tapped his pocket. "Detective, these children...?" he asked uncertainly.

The detective turned to Lucius. Lucius, who would demand later to see the contents of the damning folder, spoke up, "Whatever they need, Stanley. I'll take care of it."

Stanley nodded. "Yes, sir." He clapped his hands together. "Well, now, if you two gentlemen are finished, I'd like to get this mess all mopped up."

Snape nodded. "Thank you, Detective." Snape gave the monstrous whale a last glance. Over his shoulder he snapped, "I want to know of his... demise." He then vanished in a blur of black robes.

Lucius stepped over to the Scotland Yard detective. "Magic never ceases to amaze me," Stanley said a bit wistfully.

Lucius chuckled, "You are a Squib of honour and with your own great talents, Stanley. Now, I have a Halloween party to attend." He gathered his robes about himself. "You'll receive a bonus, Stanley. You ought to take David on holiday, I think."

Stanley cracked a smile. "David's always had a desire to go to Greece, so maybe for this Christmas. Thank you, Mr. Malfoy." With a spin, and a crack of displaced air, Lucius vanished as well.


-A Deathday Celebration?-

"...so well, Hermione was talking to Nearly Headless Nick, and he said..."

"Sir Nicholas," corrected Snape.

Harry was seated on the edge of his father's bed as Snape stood in front of a tall, oval shaped mirror, and buttoned the deep green velvet waistcoat he had just put on.

"Sir Nicholas said it's a Deathday Party and since he still likes Hermione, even though she's in Slytherin now, he said me and Draco and Hermione could all go as his guests." Harry cocked his head sideways to look at his father and the coat he had just put on. It was tailored, fitting his frame perfectly, but Harry noted a problem with it. "It's still open."

Snape frowned at his son's reflection and gave his suit a studied glare. "What is still open?"

"Your coat. Actually, maybe it doesn't fit you since it doesn't look like it can close," Harry observed, tipping his head the other way as though that might help his scrutiny.

Snape smirked sharply. "Clearly you know nothing of fashion, Harry. This particular suit is designed with an open coat so that the waistcoat can be shown." He ran his hands down the wide, dark green velvet lapels to the hem of the waistcoat. The waistcoat was of black linen and silk embroidered with green silk thread in a paisley design. Snape tugged it to adjust it, and then regarded his reflection. Stretching out his right arm, he tugged down on the white, starched cuff, then Summoned a silver cuff link in the shape of a snake, and attached it. He did the same with the other cuff.

"I like the green," said Harry. He was now lying on his side, his knees comfortably bent. "How come you always wear black, Dad?"

"I like black," Snape replied simply. "Besides, my shirts are white."

"I like purple, except to wear as robes," Harry rolled to his back and stared up at the canopy of his father's bed. "The Headmaster has some purple robes with ducks on them." Harry grimaced. "Hermione thinks they look silly, but Draco says the Headmaster doesn't have any fashion sense."

"I'd have to agree with Draco," Snape said as he checked his cuffs before Summoning his dress robes.

"Is fashion sense something important to have?" Harry now had his feet up and was squinting at them so it looked like his feet were flat against the underside of the canopy.

"I do not know about fashion sense, son, but it does help to have an awareness of what you wear and who you will be wearing it around." Snape swung the black robes with a dark glint of green thread embroidered on the hem and sides with a flourish and settled the robes onto his shoulders.

"So you wear black to scare everyone?" Harry deduced.

"I wear black because it is my favourite colour!" Harry let out a yelp as slim fingers tickled his ribs. He fell into a quick paroxysm of giggles before his father gave him a hand up. Harry's feet thumped to the floor and Snape struck one of his most fearsome, lecturing Potions Professor poses. "Well, do I pass muster?"

Harry smirked as he regarded his father. "You muster well, Dad."

Snape sniffed imperiously. "I should say so." With his hand to his son's back he ushered Harry into the living room. "Sit down and go wait for your friends, Harry."

Harry pouted, "But, they're gonna be fifteen minutes, Dad. Can't I do something?"

"No. If you do something you will then either make a mess or wear the mess," Snape chided, wondering to himself just when he had begun sounding like his mother. With a slight shrug of his shoulders he seated himself and Summoned one of the potions periodicals he'd been reading. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Harry slump dejectedly on the sofa. "Fetch a book and read it," he ordered softly.

Harry jumped up and trotted over to one of the bookcases. Some of the books his father had read as a kid were on the lowest shelf and Harry squatted down so he could peruse the titles. There were the Hardy Boys, Huck Finn and Tom Sawyer, and more. Wizard authors had penned such titles as The Adventures of Young Flamel, Portsmythe's Wine Stain – A Murder Mystery, and Boggarts in the Dungeons which was a series of horror stories that included five books.

"Dad?"

"Hmm?"

"Is The Old Man and the Sea interesting?" asked Harry as he removed a slim volume.

"I thought so," replied Snape not removing his eyes from his magazine.

"What's it about?" Harry was intrigued by the cover which had a painting of an old man in a small boat on a turbulent ocean.

"It is the adventure of an old fisherman and his battle with a giant marlin. A fish," he answered, then lowered his magazine. "Ernest Hemingway wrote the story in 1952 and it is considered one of his greatest works. I rather enjoyed Hemingway as a boy. His stories were adventurous and I always found it hard to put down his books."

That was a good enough endorsement for Harry. He took the book back to the sofa, settled into the corner, opened the book, and began to read. He smiled slightly after a few minutes when he discovered that the book was illustrated with wizarding drawings.

Snape watched his son for a moment. He noted to himself that the boy's hair was getting rather too long; several inches below his shoulders and it had become a concealing curtain much like his own. There was still some of James Potter's texture to it, though. A slight rebellion at the ends as they didn't rest in one line but drifted here and there while some groups rose up in a slight curl, and some were stubbornly straight. He had noticed the growing length before, and wondered if cutting the boy's hair would help. Inwardly he chuckled to himself as he recalled how often his mother had always wanted him to cut his hair.

The new father continued the appraisal of his son. Healthy colour stayed in Harry's cheeks now and he had finally put on enough weight that although his frame was still slim he no longer looked as though a strong wind would pick him up and carry him away.

The Potions Master, father to the Boy-Who-Lived, hoped that, if not now his son would see a much happier future.


Fifteen minutes wasn't very long, but for Harry, absorbed already by the adventure of The Old Man and the Sea, he hadn't realised the time passing and so he was startled when a gentle chime warned of approaching guests. Harry jumped up from the sofa but was caught by his lightning quick father who directed him to take his book to his bedroom.

"I will let your guests in," said Snape as he went to the door. Harry sprinted to his room with his book and was back in the living room just as Hermione and Draco were allowed in by Snape.

Hermione was very pretty in a dress of peach satin and lace that went to her ankles. On her feet were dainty, patent leather flats of a rosy colour. The spell Snape had taught her to smooth the bushiness from her brown hair had been put to good use giving her soft waves that fell freely to below her shoulder blades.

"You have done very well with the Hair Taming Charm, Miss Granger," complimented Snape. He then gently nudged his son who had been staring at Hermione.

Harry snapped out of his daze at his father's slight push and grinned as his cheeks blushed, "You look really pretty, Hermione."

Hermione blushed sweetly and Draco, dressed in his finest robes of royal blue, puffed up proprietorially and nodded, "Mother bought Hermione the dress as a surprise." He then smiled proudly. "All the girls squealed, but Hermione didn't because she's got class."

Snape's eyes warmed with a touch of mirth, although his expression remained stern, "Indeed Miss Granger does. Now, Mr. Malfoy, Mr. Potter..."

Harry shook his head and interrupted softly, "It's Mr. Snape, Dad. You said I could change my last name, right?" Sometimes his father addressed him still after James. He didn't mind the Potter name, and had every intention to take it back in some form, someday, but for now, Harry really wanted to be a Snape. It made him feel less like the Boy-Who-Lived.

"That I did, Mr. Snape. Do forgive me if I slip now and then." Harry beamed. "Now, as I was about to say, I want you both to be the gentlemen of Slytherin I expect you to be. For tonight the rules of the common room extend to the Great Hall. However, as I told the other Snakes, you are to be on your best behavior towards the other Houses. Should there be a problem, what should you do?"

Harry replied, "Get you, sir."

"Or Professor Sinistra," added Draco.

Snape then focused his gaze on Hermione. "And you, Miss Granger. I doubt I have to remind you to be a lady?"

"No, sir," she replied, a slight blush to her cheeks. "I'll be good."

With a swish of his robes, he left his quarters followed by three, little Snakes.


The Halloween Feast for the lower years, first through third years, was held in the Great Hall which had been festooned with heavy cobwebs, pumpkins and Jack-o-Lanterns sporting a myriad of fierce and ridiculous faces. Flitting about with little squeaks were bats that were joined by miniature witches and wizards on Quidditch brooms.

The House tables were replaced with a single table that was covered with an orange and black linen tablecloth, and a tapestry runner down the center of the table that reflected much of the décor in the Great Hall. Orange and black dinner sets lined the two edges of the long table in front of gold chairs upholstered in black satin. The two ends of the table were for the two chaperones, Professors Severus Snape and Aurora Sinistra. Places had been included for the Malfoys towards the center of the long table directly across from two other chairs.

Snape had expected a chair for Dumbledore towards the center of the long table, but he wondered who the chair beside the Headmaster's might be for. The Headmaster arrived then, escorting Professor Sinistra upon one arm. The petite, and usually unassuming Astronomy teacher, had dressed in a black gown of silk that split below the waist to reveal an orange underskirt. Her raven black hair, usually kept up in a functional, tight bun, hung loose to her waist and sparkled with tiny gems that made him think of the stars against the inky backdrop of the night sky.

Dumbledore led the youngest teacher on staff over to Snape and he smiled, like a waggish matchmaker, thought Snape, at the two teachers.

A time or two Snape had considered getting to know Aurora Sinistra a bit better. Although she was quite short, standing she just barely stood a little above Snape's elbows, he had thought her size charming. Sinistra was also not a skinny witch like those whose images populated the silly rag, Witch Weekly. She was plump, with decently, generous curves, and a pleasantly demure smile that complemented them.

The problem with getting to know the young witch were her reclusive tendencies. One night of the week she did have midnight practicals, but the rest of her classes for the week were during the day. For some unfathomable reason, the young witch kept to her tower chambers and rarely came to the Great Hall for meals. The only time Snape really had any chance to see her was during staff meetings where her social time, before and after the meetings, was spent huddled with Minerva, Hooch, Poppy, Pomona, and Charity Burbage. Snape had no desire to interrupt the gossipy hens just to elicit conversation from the young witch. It wasn't long before he just gave up his intentions, and concentrated on his Snakes, his potions, and teaching.

And, now that he had Harry in his life, that last thing he needed to complicate matters was a... a girlfriend. Snape couldn't stop the sneer that graced his face, and Sinistra left the Headmaster's side to claim her place at the end of the table without a word to him.

"Really, Severus," chided Dumbledore. "Must you always be so unpleasant?"

Not wishing to explain that his thoughts had merely slid uneasily over the juvenile appellation of the word 'girlfriend' and not at Professor Sinistra herself, Snape merely replied waspishly, "Yes." He then strode to his chair and plunked himself down into it.

He hated Halloween.


The Malfoys arrived last so that their entrance would be the most memorable.

Lucius wore a dove grey suit that hearkened back to almost a century ago for wizarding fashion. His trousers were crisp and straight and complemented by matching spats over his highly polished black, patent leather shoes. Over a starched white shirt with perfect cuffs and a highly defining collar he wore a splendid vest of red velvet and a cravat of black silk. A long coat, that fell in a graceful line to just below his knees, finished the suit.

Narcissa, though, managed to outshine her husband in a pale blue silk gown that was perfectly highlighted by defining decorations of what could only be small diamonds. Her pale blonde hair, usually perfectly coiffed in some sort of up-style, was allowed to fall loose in soft waves down to her waist. A pale blue diamond in a heart shape adorned her throat.

Snape suppressed a chuckle as he noted the slightly envious looks upon the girls faces, and the appreciative glances from most of the boys. Draco appeared unabashedly proud at seeing his parents, and Harry thoughtfully elbowed the boy to divert his insipid attention with an amused smirk. Hermione sighed at the sight of the well-dressed witch and wizard.

Dumbledore welcomed the Malfoys and indicated the two chairs on the other side of the table for them. Snape had already made certain that his two prefects would flank the Malfoys. Tara Anglaise was awed with having Narcissa beside her. Gordon Billock shook hands with Lucius and for once brought all of his etiquette training to the fore. This was noticed by the young man's on-again, off-again girlfriend, Orencia.

Once the lower years were all assembled, most staying with others of their House, Dumbledore rose from his ornate chair and smiled pleasantly at all of the students. Snape simply scowled until he caught a demure, and blushing glance from Sinistra at the other end of the table. His lips thinned and he took an unnecessary sip of the water in his crystal goblet.

"A happy Halloween to all of you, children!" intoned the Headmaster as he spread his arms wide and then drew them back together over his abdomen. "The elves tell me that all of your favourites have been prepared and there are puddings to dazzle and delight. Of course, Madame Pomfrey has extra Stomach Soother Lozenges for anyone needing them." He chuckled softly, then beamed as he continued, "Professor McGonagall has graciously allowed you her gramophone for this evening's musical entertainment," he swept a hand towards the large, hand-crank, record playing device that took up the whole corner behind Snape. The Headmaster grinned, "I'm sure that many of you will be pleased to know that I have acquired records from three of the musical groups that I hear are currently popular among the young folk, so I am certain you will enjoy it."

Snape scowled bitterly. If it wasn't classical music, then it was trash and it only gave him a headache. He lightly touched his robes inner pocket to make certain that his migraine potion resided there. The slim bottle was neatly tucked away.

The Great Hall echoed pleasantly with the brief noise of speculation on what wizarding groups were represented by the collection of gramophone records the Headmaster brought. Dumbledore meant to speak more, but he patiently waited for the noise to die down. It didn't. Snape slapped his hand down, hard, upon the tables surface, effectively bringing silence to the Great Hall. The Headmaster gave his Potions professor a gracious nod, and then continued with his speech.

"As I intimated earlier this week, I have some wonderful news for all of you. I have found my new Deputy and he will be taking on the position of Head of Gryffindor House as well." There was a smattering of applause from the Gryffindor students who were eager to learn who their new Head might be. "Now, since our Defense Against the Dark Arts instructor was recently injured, the new Deputy will be taking on the task of teaching that class." Once Dumbledore knew he had everyone's attention, including the exasperated and impatient attention of Snape, he finished, "Please, do welcome my new Deputy Headmaster, Professor Remus Lupin!"

Snape felt his stomach plummet to his feet like lead as he saw Remus Lupin, one-fourth of the old Marauders, friend to James Potter and Sirius Black, enter through the Great Hall doors. His hands tightly gripped the arms of his chair as his dark eyes bored into the figure of the sandy-haired man, who had a touch of grey at his temples and small scars marring his altogether overly-pleasant face. His robes were beige and brown wool tweed, and several years out of style. Snape watched as Lupin made his way to stand beside the Headmaster.

Lupin courteously acknowledged Sinistra who blushed under the man's brief attention. The ex-Marauder then focused his gaze upon Snape. His smile was friendly, respectful even, but Snape glowered, hatefully and was pleased to see the other man's expression droop guiltily. That was short-lived as Lupin's amber eyes settled upon Harry, and the wizard smiled, beatifically, at the small boy. Rightfully so, the unexpected attention made Harry wary and he looked to his father in question. Snape nodded shortly, his gaze conveying the message that they would speak later. It was enough for Harry who promptly ignored the new teacher's unwelcome attention, and went back to a murmured conversation with his friends.

Snape centered his scrutiny upon Dumbledore. He did not censor the anger that boiled in his gaze at this appointment. Any kindness the old man had bestowed upon the Potions Master in the past the younger wizard buried those memories, harshly. As of this moment, he had had it with the damned old man and Snape made certain that the Headmaster not only saw his disapproval and disappointment, but felt it. Dumbledore did flinch. He clearly saw the brief expression of betrayal on the younger wizard's face. Instead of capturing Snape's dark gaze, to possibly apologise, the Headmaster simply looked away and bestowed the indulgent smile the old man had reserved for the Marauders when Snape had been a student.

Snape was inwardly vicious with the hurt that bristled at the Headmaster's slight. He vanished the useless goblet of water and conjured a crystal tumbler of brandy. He ignored Dumbledore's glance of disapproval and did not see the look of concern that flashed across the face of Lucius Malfoy. The Potions Master tossed back the brandy and settled his darkest, angriest scowl over everyone.

Snape hated Halloween.

Snape despised Dumbledore.

And Snape absolutely, unequivocally, detested Remus Lupin; the man that had nearly killed him in his sixth year.


Sir Nicholas Mimsy-Porpington received a memo from Professor Snape to come by the Great Hall to pick up Harry, Draco and Hermione for the Deathday Party. The ghost was delighted for a few minutes with his memo brought to him by one of the castle house elves. He could not recall ever having been sent one before.

That novelty flew away as Sir Nicholas recalled he had some guests awaiting his escort. Making sure his head was on right, he vanished through the walls and soon rose through the feast table. He bowed to the students and staff that greeted him, and felt the chill of his plasma tickle his toes in pleasure. He was reminded of how much, as a ghost, he had the respect of the living when he had far too little of it when he was alive.

"Hermione!" Sir Nicholas beamed at the small girl who had quickly endeared herself to him. "Pleasant Deathday to you!"

Hermione grinned, "Thank you, Sir Nicholas. Happy Deathday to you. I want you to meet my friends. Harry Snape and Draco Malfoy."

The knightly ghost bowed to the boys, and his head slipped to hang by its thread of silvery flesh. Harry and Draco grimaced at the silvery stump of ravaged neck that was revealed. Hermione had gotten used to it. Sir Nicholas righted himself, and his head, and smiled genially to the two friends. "It is a pleasure to meet you gentlemen. I am very delighted to escort you to the Deathday Party."

With Sir Nicholas floating along the floor the three children fell into step. They paused as Snape stopped them. "Mr. Malfoy, Mr. Snape, Miss Granger, I shall expect the three of you returned to Slytherin House by ten of the clock."

The children nodded, and each added a vocal, "Yes, Sir."

"The Bloody Baron will deliver my guests on time, Professor Snape," assured Sir Nicholas. As both bowed to each other the knight and his three living guests walked out of the Great Hall.


The Deathday Party, attended by all the ghosts of Hogwarts and Hogsmeade, was located in what Sir Nicholas called The Moving Ballroom. He had explained that this marvellous room of French Versailles grandeur tended to flit around the corridors of Hogwarts as if to evade the living. One time each year, when the Veil was at its zenith of thinness the arch revealing the Moving Ballroom would be shining with the light of a thousand candles in its three heavy chandeliers.

Turning a corner of a corridor a beautiful arch of heavy white marble stone had insinuated itself perfectly within the grey stone walls of Hogwarts. Splendid music from the 16th century played by a ghostly quartet tripped daintily out into the corridor. Harry, Draco and Hermione peered into the gorgeous ballroom of white, gold, and sparkling mirrors.

"Oh my!" gasped Hermione.

The ghostly dancers all of silver splendor were clothed in dashing suits and dresses from various times when they died. The women tended to expend their plasma in the restoration of their human forms as they lived. Many men did the same but there were a majority of men that allowed their death, if violent, to appear in graphic, silvery plasma across their bodies. All of the ghosts danced a few inches above the dance floor.

A sudden thundering of hooves muted the music and the dancers all drew back as a parade of galloping horses with headless riders dashed through a large glass window and into the ballroom.

Sir Nicholas corralled the children to the side, and cried over the rumbling, "Tis the Hunt of the Headless Horsemen!" Just as quickly as they arrived the riders vanished through a far wall. Sir Nicholas sighed wistfully. "I used to be a magnificent rider and quite a good hunter."

"Don't they ever let you join, Sir Nicholas?" asked Harry.

The ghost tipped his still slightly attached head from his neck, then flipped it back as both Harry and Draco's faces screwed up with revulsion. "Nearly Headless," he clucked. "They only accept the fully headless."

"I'm hungry," said Draco. "Do you have anything to eat here?"

"Not for the living, Master Draco," sighed Sir Nicholas. He pointed over to a large table brimming with a buffet of foods. "We see it, and taste it, as the food once was to us. To the living, I'm afraid…"

Hermione clutched her belly as she and her friends saw foods rotted by time and decay. "That's disgusting!"

Harry gulped, "I wish I hadn't had that fourth helping of treacle tart." He turned away, and forced his friends to turn away from the awful buffet.

Sir Nicholas chuckled. "Just don't look." He then turned to Hermione. "Miss Hermione, I cannot let any of you go until you consent to dance with me."

Hermione blushed. "I'd love to!"

Harry and Draco watched as Hermione was floated a few inches above the floor, and without touching the ghost, which would be very cold, they began to dance.


Snape visited his son when the Bloody Baron slipped into his living room to let him know that the three Snakes had been delivered to their common room. He checked upon Hermione who was chatting with her roommate as they were both tucked into their beds. He then went to Draco and Harry's dorm where he found them both climbing into bed. Draco was yawning and had dropped off to sleep before his Head of House could greet them.

Harry, sitting up in bed, was delighted when his father sat down on the edge of the bed. "You appear to have enjoyed yourself at the Deathday Party, my son," smirked Snape as he witnessed a healthy flush to his son's cheeks.

"The food was gross, Dad, but everything else was wonderful! We saw a bunch of Headless Horsemen… Hermione danced with Sir Nicholas, and Draco danced with a silent ghost that Sir Nicholas told us was known as the Grey Lady."

"Did you dance, Harry?" asked Snape as he urged his son to lie back on his bed.

"I didn't really want to," Harry shrugged. "The Deathday Party was interesting but I think Hermione liked it more than me and Draco did." Harry yawned and took off his glasses. Snape took the glasses, folded them, and placed them on the bedside table. "Sir Nicholas told me you and my mum went to the Deathday Party when you were first years. Did you like it?"

Snape gave his son one of his small, corner-of-the-mouth smiles. "It was rather beautiful as I recall," Snape replied. "Lily enjoyed all of it much more. All of the ghosts liked her and all of the men wanted to dance with her." Snape sneered as he recalled how jealous he had felt… of ghosts!

Harry giggled. Snape tucked the covers around his son. "Go to sleep, Harry." The older wizard started to rise from his son's bed but Harry stopped him with a hand to his arm.

"My tummy is kind of yucky," Harry said softly.

Snape patted his son's hand. "I will send a house elf with some Stomach Soothing Potion." Again Snape started to rise and once more Harry stopped him.

"Dad?" Harry peeked blearily towards Draco but really could not see him. He crooked his finger indicating he needed his father to lean closer to him. Snape was very curious so he leaned closer to his son. "Dad, am I too old for a kiss goodnight? I've never had one."

Harry's voice was so quiet Snape almost could not hear him. He thought of the many times his own mother had kissed him goodnight; even when he was a teenager! He felt that warmth in his heart again, and revelled in the sensation. "Harry, I believe that one's children are never too old for kisses goodnight. Normally…" he glanced towards Draco who was now snoring breathily. "I would not compromise my reputation as a 'terrifying teacher' but, you are my son." He leaned and kissed Harry's temple. "Now go to sleep, my little idiot."


Update 5/2015