A/N: Thanks to my beta, stella8h8chang, as usual. She is fabulous. Thank you so much for all of your reviews, support, and putting this story on your favorites and alerts. I can't tell you how much it means to me.
Also, I'm updating both my Living in Hell and Lessons series either today or tomorrow, and I've got two new one-shots. Monsters and Heroes, my Halloween Challenge one-shot focused on Michael Corner. It's an outtake of this work, taking place on -- wait for it -- Halloween.
My second one-shot is Shelter in the Storm, and my first foray into Draco/Astoria. It's a challenge piece for the Harry Potter Rare Pair Shorts LJ community.
I own nothing.
Chapter 26: Slughorn Speaks
Daphne was deep into page one-hundred and fifty of The Life and Lies of Albus Dumbledore, thinking that perhaps there had been some mention of Grindelwald early in in the book. The information from Kreacher about Snape and Lily had reinvigorated Daphne's own investigation as to why Snape had that piece of a letter in his possession.
("Could ever have been friends with Gellert Grindelwald. I think her mind's going, personally! Love, Lily.")
(What connection was there between this "her", Grindelwald, and Lily?)
(If it's even Harry Potter's 'Lily'—)
But the more Daphne delved into the mystery, the more evident it was becoming that 'Lily' in the letter was Lily, Harry's mum. That the letter Snape had stolen was in Sirius Black's possession seemed to cement this fact, as there was only one Lily that both men knew—
(But what does it mean that he was crying—)
She felt the distinctly unpleasant sensation of a pair eyes boring into her.
Daphne reluctantly tore her attention away from the page and looked up. Sitting across from her, having taken a chair at her table without asking, was Ivy Wellington, a Slytherin fifth year student whom Daphne had talked to last year about Harry Potter and supporting his side. It turned out that Harry already had Ivy's support.
Daphne looked at the other younger Slytherin girl . . . and then a few seconds later, it hit her.
"Oh bloody hell!"
"Hello Daphne!" Ivy said, with a broad smile. Her hands rested on the table, her fingers intertwined together.
"You scared me," Daphne panted, clutching at her chest as if she had had the biggest cardiac infarction in the history of magic.
"I didn't mean to scare you. I haven't had the chance to talk to you since term began."
Daphne composed herself and looked at the tall, black-haired girl. She never noticed Ivy's rather huge, dark eyes. Eyes that were just a tad bit on the freakish side . . . .
This plus the fact that the girl seemed to know everything going on around her made Ivy one rather odd duck.
"Since we're in the common room, Daphne, I think it would be best if you cast a Privacy Charm so people won't be able to hear us talk."
"Oh? Oh! Muffliato!"
"So you and Blaise Zabini are a part of this Dumbledore's Army."
Daphne nearly choked on her own spit. "Wh-wh- . . . er, huh? N-no . . . no, er . . ."
"It's okay. I haven't told anyone. Although I must admit, I was a bit startled about Blaise. He did strike me more as the purely anti-Muggle-born type." Ivy shrugged. "That was a very pleasant surprise!"
Daphne could only stare at Ivy and shake her head. "Can I just ask you, Ivy; how do you seem to know things?"
Ivy smiled at Daphne with a matter-of-factness about her. "It amazes me that creatures who have eyes and ears very rarely use them."
Daphne furrowed her brow. So much of Ivy Wellington confused her, but it also made her think Ivy and Luna Lovegood should meet and become 'best friends forever'.
"Er . . . okay. What do you mean?"
"You and Blaise are together all the time. And I heard he helped Neville Longbottom when Carrow tortured him—"
"So you do think that Carrow using the Cruciatus Curse was heinous?"
Ivy nodded aggressively, as if to demonstrate her distaste. "I also saw Blaise quietly applaud Neville when he came back for breakfast. He's also been going after other boys, like Crabbe and Goyle, to find out what Carrows' plans are for you."
Daphne's eyes widened in horror. "You know about that?"
"I'm the only one who does, Daphne. And I haven't said a word to anybody else. But, I want you to know that, if you need help with anything, I can help you." Ivy gave her another wide, mysterious smile. "I like research and finding out facts!"
Daphne snorted. "You remind me of someone else who does too."
"Hermione Granger?"
"Gah!" Daphne slapped her hands on the table. "Stop doing that! I don't like feeling I'm having my mind read."
"Okay. I'm sorry if I'm making you uncomfortable."
"No . . . S-sorry for yelling." Daphne picked up her book again, and flipped it back and forth in her hands. She smirked. "Well, little Miss Factoid. I don't suppose you'd know anything about Snape?"
"What do you want to know?"
Daphne gave Ivy a very curious look. "Well," she began cautiously, not wanting to tell her too much, "I'm just interested to know about his past. Like, whether he knew Sirius Black? Did they know a 'Lily', either when they went to school here, or shortly after they left?"
"Actually, my parents both went here, about that time."
Daphne's eyes grew huge. "Really?" She sat up, giving Ivy her full attention.
Ivy nodded. "I know Professor McGonagall was around. I believe they hired Professor Flitwick in the middle of the seventies. But, since you're in Slytherin, you might find the best place to start would be with Professor Slughorn!"
Daphne chuckled in disbelief. "Oh, of course! I can't believe I didn't know. You mean, he was Potions Master when Snape was here as a student?"
Ivy again nodded, smiling even more broadly than before. "My father wasn't in any of his classes, but my mother was. She was a year ahead of Snape." Ivy wrinkled her nose. "Mother never liked him. She was in Ravenclaw, and one of her friends was Muggle-born. Snape hung around other students who constantly made fun of Michelle—"
"Er, who?"
"Oh, Michelle Lindley, my mother's Muggle-born friend. She's actually my godmother. I've listened to her and my parents talk about Hogwarts back then. Quite a few similarities between then and now, you know? Due to the war."
Daphne gulped and creased her brow. "You're a bit odd, you know that?"
Ivy cocked her head to her right. "Why do you think I'm odd?"
"Well, you just very matter-of-fact about everything. You seem to honestly support Harry, which is good, and you've got all this information just stored in your head."
Ivy leaned forward, a mysterious smile plastered on her face. "I like observation. I like watching other people. I sort of consider it a hobby."
Daphne nodded. "Well, Ivy, I guess what I'd ask of you is keep your eyes and ears open. If you hear something, anything suspicious, let either Blaise or me know. Under no circumstances are you to rely on Draco Malfoy. All right?"
"Certainly!" Ivy gave Daphne a bright nod, and stood up out of her chair. The younger Slytherin girl walked away from the table, leaving Daphne to shake off the encounter as much as reasonably possible.
She picked her book back up and looked around the Slytherin common room. Ever since the beginning of term, Daphne had found herself staying away from her House as much as possible, using only her dormitory for sleeping and changing clothes. She'd kip a spot on a couch if Blaise or Millicent were lumbering about. If she was anywhere else, it was either classes, the library, on patrol, or in the Room of Requirement.
(Or with Michael in some fun, but secluded spot!)
And, Daphne found that she was usually more productive during moments of relative quiet.
(Except when I'm with Michael. Then all bets are off!)
(Not to mention my top!)
Letting out a very loud sigh, she stuffed her things into her book bag, and made her way to the library, hoping that she would be afforded the peace that she needed to continue reading . . .
. . . However, she was proven wrong almost as soon as she opened her book to her spot.
"Psst! Daphne!" Millicent Bulstrode whispered harshly from a nearby bookstack.
Daphne huffed, rolled her eyes, and shut her book, slamming it down a bit harder than Madam Pince would've liked.
"Quiet, you heathen!" the mad librarian hissed. Millicent ducked behind the shelving, hiding from the irate librarian's view. "Books are to be treated with care, not as an ape's plaything!"
Daphne and Millicent, peeking from behind the thick wood of the stacks, both watched as Madam Pince was safely out of earshot. Millicent then scurried towards Daphne's table and pulled out the seat on Daphne's right.
"Cast a Privacy Charm," Millicent demanded.
Gritting her teeth, because she did not take orders from her peers well, Daphne cast yet another Muffliato Charm around them.
"If I only had a Knut for all the Muffliatoes I've cast today alone—"
"Pansy's up to something."
"You know something?" Daphne's annoyance flew right out of the library's long windows and she sat forward.
"I saw her talking with Amycus Carrow in between classes. I used your Ear," Millicent showed Daphne the Extendable Ear that she had given her to help with eavesdropping, "and I ducked behind a tapestry. Carrow put his hand on her shoulder and he told her, 'Your work will be much appreciated, Miss Parkinson'."
"But," Daphne shook her head, "did you hear what Carrow wanted Pansy to do?"
Millicent flattened her mouth and leaned forward to talk in hushed tones. "All I could make out was that Carrow wanted Pansy to find information on some students."
Daphne hissed, and fell backwards into her chair. "My guess is Carrow's still looking for information about former students who might or might not be in Dumbledore's Army." She tapped her nails absent-mindedly on the table. "I already knew about Crabbe and Goyle. I was expecting Pansy too, but I was hoping it wouldn't be so soon."
Millicent nodded. "Crabbe's been on a tear lately. He's been attacking the younger students lately, desperate to prove himself to Carrow."
Daphne narrowed her eyes. "What do you mean 'prove'?"
"That he's not Malfoy. That Vincent Crabbe'll be a better Death Eater than Malfoy ever was. That's what Theo's told me anyways."
Daphne suppressed a shudder; the thought of Nott and Millicent doing things together was just a bit too much to handle, particularly since she had just eaten a huge, partially digested breakfast.
"What about us?"
Millicent's voice startled Daphne out of her thoughts. "What about you?"
"Theodore and I." Millicent gave Daphne a very exasperated look. "I've been running defense for you the last few weeks, not to mention assisting you last year. I've also been relaying information about what the next generation of Death Eaters've been up to. I want a bigger piece of the pie."
"When you say 'bigger piece'—?"
"I want in. In with Dumbledore's Army, and before you say you don't know anything about them," Millicent wiggled her finger indignantly as Daphne was just about to argue with her, "I know better. I was in that damn Inquisitorial Squad our fifth year."
Daphne fumed, perhaps unreasonably given the developments of the past year. "That's right. You were a part of that, weren't you?" She narrowed her eyes at the other girl. "A right thorn in our side, you were."
"And I thought you'd understand that sometimes, people make mistakes. I wanted to be a part of their group, Daphne. I wanted to belong." Millicent glared right back at Daphne and wrinkled her nose in disgust. "And it didn't make any difference. I still heard Pansy and Draco talk about me behind my back."
Daphne leaned back and nodded very slowly. "Fine. We're past that now."
The other girl raised her eyebrow. "Well, the older Slytherin students suspect that you were a part of it, even if they don't have any proof that you were. That means Crabbe, Goyle, Parkinson, and Malfoy." Millicent waved her hand dismissively. "Go on and throw Davis in with that lot. She's doing everything she can to remain in Pansy's good graces these days."
Daphne rubbed at her now pounding head. "I've got a lot to think about."
"Well think hard and fast! This is something I want—"
"And I can't make any promises! Sweet-effin'-Salazar, I am not confirming nor denying anything that might be going on with the students, but let me be very clear, Millicent," Daphne said in a measured voice, lowered to emphasize just how serious she was, "with something like this? It might even be best that you don't do anything more than what you're doing right now. There's no telling how bad it's going to get, and you're helping, but you're also keeping your distance. You're safe. Both you and Nott are safe. So, isn't that better, ultimately? Help, without getting hurt?"
Millicent opened her mouth, but seemed to think better about what she was going to say. She slouched in her seat, her fingernails scratching at the grain of the wood of the table.
"Millicent?"
"I don't like being told not to fight. I don't like watching others get hurt and feel like I can't help. I want to do this for my Auntie."
Daphne swallowed. Looking at her companion at this moment, she couldn't help but feel a kinship with the girl. If she was being truthful, Millicent Bulstrode was no different from her or Ginny Weasley or Neville or Luna . . .
But was it worth the risk? Not only to her, but to allow the identity of the D.A. to go beyond the students who were already involved? Involve more Slytherins other than Blaise Zabini?
Blaise was different. Daphne had a more personal connection to him. She had been privy to his deepest secret, something that he couldn't reveal to just anyone, particularly in the current climate at Hogwarts and in the country. And Daphne had worked long and hard to talk to Blaise about his own misconceptions about Muggle-borns. She had constantly emphasized how similar prejudices towards Muggle-borns and homosexuality were, and the more Blaise had come to terns with his feelings for Eddie, the more he truly started to see that he had just as much to lose in the current regime as Muggle-borns.
Millicent Bulstrode, however, was different. She might have lost a loved one, but there simply wasn't the comfort level, the sense of something shared and something gained that Daphne felt with Blaise. It wasn't enough to convince Daphne that including Millicent or Nott was a good idea.
"Look, I'll see what I can do. And I'll tell whomever needs to know about what you've been doing, Millicent. That's all I can promise."
She looked at Daphne with a mild expression. "All right. I won't push the issue."
"You just want to feel like you're doing enough, don't you?" Daphne kept her eyes on the other girl; she wouldn't look up at her. Instead, she remained completely fixated on the wooden swirls of the table.
"Millicent?"
She looked up at her.
Daphne smiled. "Thank you. And I mean it. For everything you've been doing."
Millicent nodded, but Daphne noted the smile on her own face as well.
Ginny was sitting at the library, her attentions divided between N.E.W.T.-level Charms and several back issues of The Quibbler, from June of this past year to its latest issue.
"What the—?" Ginny squinted as she read the second issue of The Sedition Act, as reprinted in Xenophilius Lovegood's newspaper. "Lord Sucking Snortlebugs?"
"BOO!"
"Ack!" The papers flew out of Ginny's hand as Daphne scared her right out of her seat. "Godric, Daphne! Y'need to have a cowbell on or something."
The Slytherin girl laughed. "Sorry. I didn't mean . . . well, actually, I did mean to scare ya. Reading Lovegood's rag, eh?"
Ginny smirked. "This 'rag' is the only one out there actually speaking out against the Ministry, publishing your articles about Muggle-borns, and supporting 'Undesirable Number One'. So you should show a little respect."
Daphne snorted. "Fair point, Weasley. Hey, do you have a moment?" She didn't wait for a response. Instead, she waved her wand, and cast the Muffliato Charm around their table. She took a seat directly across from Ginny.
"Carrow's using Crabbe, Goyle and Pansy Parkinson to gather information about the old version of Dumbledore's Army. Millicent Bulstrode just told me, probably no more than five minutes ago."
Ginny let out a very impressive stream of creative Weasley swears.
Daphne smirked. "That's quite a bit more extreme than the reaction I had."
Ginny blew out a breath. "So, they're not going to let up, are they?"
"Not until they've got information on everyone."
"Oh . . . fuck-a-goat!" Ginny rubbed her head, pushing her fingers into her forehead with more than a little force. "Well, we've got to get those parchments then."
Daphne nodded. "We've also got to do something about the names in them too."
Ginny thought about the old Dumbledore's Army. What would they do in a situation like this? How would they handle it? Hermione would probably think of some clever Concealment Spell or Document Alteration Charm. Ron and Harry would suggest to hex the whole lot of them. And her brothers, Lee Jordan, Angelina Johnson, Katie Bell . . . well, they'd probably all gang up on them, nick whatever information they had, and—
Ginny let out a gasp. "Oh, of course! Why didn't we think of it before?" Ginny smacked her head, rather loudly.
"What?"
"Steal whatever they've got on us, change all of the names they have to older members of the D.A., the ones no longer at Hogwarts, and give Carrow those documents!"
Daphne looked at Ginny, her brow creased. She nodded slowly. "It could work. But we'd have to make sure that we intercept them before Carrow gets 'em."
"Right. Would you be able to handle it?"
A smile spread slowly across the Slytherin's face. "I could give it a whirl. I'll get Millicent to help. Make her feel involved."
Ginny looked at Daphne suspiciously. "Are you thinking of officially involving Millicent Bulstrode in the D.A.?"
She snorted. "I reckon I've already used up my 'Sign-One-Up-Free' Card on Blaise." She sighed. "I told her I'd ask people, but, well, I don't think I've got the best judgment about these things.
"What do you mean? Blaise seems like he's been all right—"
"I don't mean Blaise."
"Then what?"
Daphne took a breath. "It's the pamphlets. They were my idea, you know? I thought they were going to be enough, but," she shrugged hopelessly, "they're not. They're pointless and stupid and bloody illegal. It feels like whatever I was doing was all for nothing and that I'm not doing enough."
"That's not true though."
Daphne shrugged, but, to Ginny's dismay, her face looked even more morose. "I thought I'd do this cute little act of rebellion, spread the word around that Muggle-borns don't steal powers, and it'd be enough." Her head fell onto her fist and she propped her elbow up on the table. "But this thing's bigger than my crappy ideas, than even the D.A., because of the Carrows and Snape and the Ministry, and You-Know-Who." She let out a breath. "And we still don't know what Snape is about—"
Ginny bit her lip. "I know what Kreacher said about Snape showing up at Grimmauld Place was bizarre—"
"To say the least," Daphne snorted.
"But he's a murderer. He killed Dumbledore. And he's working for Lord Kneazle-Fart."
Daphne chuckled, as did Ginny. Both girls had to admit that figuring out funny nicknames for Voldemort was an entertaining way to pass the time.
"Daphne," Ginny said, after a couple more laughs, "all it means is that he knew Lily, he's capable of crying, and, at the end of the day, he's still a killer." She looked at her co-conspirator. She was staring at Ginny with a sad expression, but she managed a smile.
"You're right. I can't stop thinking about it. And why Dumbledore would've said I was like him."
Ginny leaned forward, her face serious and her voice calm and steady. "Dumbledore was human. Just like the rest of us. He made mistakes. But you are nothing — absolutely nothing — like Snape."
Daphne nodded absent-mindedly, her face still filled with a deep and confused sadness.
A flicker of movement alerted Ginny that they were not alone. Tensing up, she looked over Daphne's shoulders . . . and immediately relaxed.
"Daphne, lift the Muffliato Charm."
"What? Why?"
"Just trust me."
Daphne did, and that's when—
"DONTTURNAROUNDBEHINDYOU!"
"AAACK!" Daphne yelped and clutched her chest as she turned to glare at Michael Corner and Terry Boot standing over her, guffawing hysterically. Anthony Goldstein came up behind them, trying to keep himself from laughing.
"Sorry," Michael said as he grinned and leaned forward to give Daphne a peck on her forehead. "Terry's idea. Blame him." Daphne turned to glare at Terry, but the effect was marred by a grin threatening to pop out on her lips.
Terry shrugged, turning a chair around to straddle the seat. "Wanted to check your alertness and response time." He snorted. "Painfully pathetic, Greengrass!"
Anthony sat next to Ginny. "We've finished the Galleons." He unfolded his palm, revealing three shiny gold Galleons. "The Protean Charm that we developed will allow each person with a Galleon to send messages on their coins. Before, it was just Harry, Ron and Hermione who could do that." He shrugged. "One for you, Ginny. And Daphne," he addressed her, his smile faltering a bit, "here's yours. And you'll probably see Zabini before I do, right?"
She mumbled a thank you to Michael's best mate and took the Galleons from him.
There was a cough from the right of her. "Um, Tony?" She looked over at Michael, who was nudging his head towards her. "Wasn't there something else you wanted to give to Daphne?"
Anthony glared fleetingly at Michael, who smirked at his friend. Blinking, sighing, and folding his hands together, Anthony looked at Daphne and pushed his lips out, mashing his face around as if he felt awkward about something.
"I-I'm . . . I ap-pologize."
Daphne's brows shot up. "Eh?"
Anthony let out an exasperated breath. "I apologize, Daphne. For," he swirled his hands about him, "just . . . not . . . you know!"
Michael groaned. "Tony," he said in a warning tone, "come on."
"Anthony," Daphne propped her arms up on the table, "I'm afraid I've got no idea what you're talking about." She intertwined her fingers and rested her chin on the shelf her hands made. "Kindly spell it out for me, please?" She batted her eyes in a horrifically mocking way. Michael and Terry both grunted and laughed into their hands and Ginny cupped her mouth.
Anthony gritted his teeth. "I was wrong about you. For not trusting you, even though you've been in Dumbledore's Army from the very beginning." His eyes fell to the table, on a dark knot directly in front of his hands. "And, I should've been more supportive of you and Mike. I'm sorry I was so . . ."
Daphne narrowed her eyes but smiled in a smug way towards him. "So what, Anthony?"
"Judgmental, all right? I'm sorry I was so judgmental." He scrunched his face up and crossed his arms. "No one's perfect. I need to remember that."
He thrust his hand out in front of him.
"Truce?"
Daphne looked at his hand, then she looked at his face. And she smirked.
"Truce." She grabbed his hand, giving it one pump. "For now."
Michael coughed and raised an eyebrow at Daphne.
"What?"
"Well, go on." Michael grinned lopsidedly at her. "You've been just as judgmental about him over this past year." He gestured to his best friend. "I think Anthony should hear it from you too!"
Daphne slouched and rolled her eyes, clearly projecting with her face that this was the lastthing she wanted to do. "I'm sorry . . . too. For saying you were a stuck-up prude butt-licking brown-noser," Daphne grinned as Terry barked out a laugh, earning him a thump on the back from Michael, "even if you are best friends with Michael and for every bad thing I ever thought about you. Because you're not that bad."
Anthony glared at her . . . but his face slowly started to soften. The right corner of his mouth turned upwards.
"So . . . both of us forgive the other, then?"
"I guess so." Daphne smiled back at him. "But so help you if you piss me off—!"
"Which I'm sure will be inevitable." Anthony interrupted her, his own smirk crossing his face.
Michael and Daphne had done quite a thorough job of ditching the others back at the library, but for very different reasons.
"Oh, come on! I can't think of anything less fun than going to see Slughorn!" he whinged, gently pulling on her hands to guide her to the Astronomy Tower for a little "alone time".
"Michael, see Slughorn first. Then snog!"
"How about bypass Slughorn all together and then snog?"
Daphne smiled as he pressed his lips against hers. "I have to see Slughorn. It's important to me."
Michael simply looked at her, and kissed her one last time just as they approached Horace Slughorn's office. "Fine. You win." He smiled, sighed, and gave her one more peck on the lips before gesturing to the door.
"After you, my fair Miss Greengrass!"
Daphne snorted. "I hate that 'fair Miss Greengrass' crap!" but she couldn't contain her own giggling. Breathing in two deep breaths, Daphne knocked loudly at the office door.
It was a few moments before her knocks were answered. The door opened, revealing the short, silvery-haired, portly Potions Master. He almost didn't see Daphne at first, but he looked nervously, up and down the hallway.
Finally, his eyes rested on the girl standing in front of him.
"Wh-why, Miss Greengrass?" he addressed her, and Daphne could hear the faint trace of nerves in his voice, "To what do I owe the pleasure?"
"Um," Daphne began, "Professor Slughorn, I don't er . . . want to bother you or anything. I just wanted to talk to you about when you were here the first time around, as Potions Master. If that's okay?" Daphne gestured to Michael Corner, standing just behind her. "Both of us had questions, if you don't mind?"
Daphne shrugged inconspicuously as Michael raised an eyebrow at her.
Slughorn stared at Daphne for a few seconds. "W-well, but of course! Miss Greengrass, and Mister Corner . . . Ah! I never did have an opportunity to ask, but are you any relation to Healer Nesbitt Corner, famous for being the first wizard to discover the parasitic Flesh-Eating Nematodes of Louth? Famous discovery, that was! Earned him and his ancestors a nice nest-egg--"
Michael tried to hide his rather horrified expression. "Er . . . n-no, sir. My dad specializes in magical plants up north, and my mum's a Muggle-born. She helps him with his greenhouse. She also does a little writing on the side, some books and articles about Muggle and magical music . . . well, she did before all of this."
Slughorn looked at Michael with a degree of some sympathy. "Oh, well, my dear boy. Are they doing all right? Oh, please, do sit down," he gestured to some comfy chairs and forgot all about his concern for Michael's family. With a flick of his wand, he Conjured a tray filled with tea and biscuits.
"Do make yourselves comfortable." Slughorn took the biggest, plushiest chair for himself, and Daphne and Michael sat on a loveseat directly perpendicular from him. "I must say, since the start of the term, I have not been able to fully enjoy students' company outside of classes. Not since . . ." his voice drifted away as he gestured toward the outer world beyond his office as an answer.
Daphne smiled, a bit awkwardly, at her teacher. "Professor, would you be able to talk to us about when you taught here at Hogwarts back in the seventies?"
Slughorn was clearly surprised at the nature of Daphne's question. "Well, I certainly don't see why I couldn't. Is there something specific you wanted to know?"
Daphne took a deep breath.
(Now or never, Greengrass!)
"Snape." She ignored Michael practically snapping his neck in two as he turned his head to gape at her. "I wanted to know about Snape when he was here at Hogwarts. How was he in your classes? Who were his friends . . . um, or if he had any friends outside of Slytherin?"
Slughorn seemed almost as shocked as Michael was. "Why, my dear, in the whole world of knowledge or anything that we could talk about, would you want to know about him?"
Daphne's head moved back and forth between Slughorn and Michael. "W-well, I admit to being curious about Snape. And why he did what he did. Professor Slughorn, I'm Head Girl, and I have to be around him for long periods of time. So, I'm just trying to understand him, and see if there's anything at all about Snape that I could — oh, I don't know — if there's anything that I should know about him. Perhaps if you can help me, I won't feel so uncomfortable being around him and in his office for our meetings." She held her palm out towards her teacher. "You are the best person on the staff to ask such a delicate question. So I thought I should come to you first."
Slughorn regarded Daphne cautiously. She looked over at Michael, pleading with her eyes to save any and all comments until later, when they could have a good, long talk about it.
"If it helps you, Miss Greengrass, then I shall certainly try my best." Professor Slughorn took a sip from his teacup and set it back down in its saucer, his drinking hand trembling the whole while. "Severus Snape took my Potions classes while he attended school here as a student. Of all the students in my House, none," he said, looking directly at Daphne, "could hold a candle to Severus' potion-making abilities. Not anyone in Slytherin, nor in Hufflepuff. Not even in Ravenclaw!"
"Whoa!" Michael exclaimed softly. Daphne grinned and elbowed him in the chest.
"You left out a House, Professor?"
"Ah, I did Miss Greengrass! There was only one other student," he said, holding up a finger for emphasis, "who came anywhere close to the level, the skill, the natural talent that Severus possessed. Young Lily Evans. From Gryffindor!"
Daphne stared at him. "Harry Potter's mum?"
Slughorn nodded, slowly and sadly. "Lily Evans, the brightest Muggle-born I've ever met! Well, of course, until Miss Granger came along. You know Miss Granger, don't you?"
Daphne gave him a watery smile and nodded her head.
"Oh, they were a pair, Severus and Lily." Slughorn shook his head. "I had never seen such a rapport between a Gryffindor and a Slytherin! Actually, not until watching you with Harry Potter last year." Slughorn leaned forwards and smiled at her with a knowing familiarity, touching his nose with the tip of his finger.
"So Snape and Harry's mum did know each other?"
Slughorn took another sip of his tea. "Yes, quite well too. For their first few years, they partnered together in Potions exercises, and not because I forced them to. They had a very unusual chemistry together. Severus was a traditionalist with his Potion creations; he was particularly precise and rigid with every instruction and with each ingredient. Lily, however, provided the creative spark. She would push the boundaries of Potion-making to its outer limits!"
Slughorn sighed. "She wasn't ever afraid to try something different, to make the recipes stronger and better. And, indeed, only a couple of times did her potions suffer for it, but it was few and far between. Severus learned to overcome the occasional deficiencies he experienced from rote allegiance to dogma. He was drawn to Lily's innovative ideas!"
Daphne nodded, concentrating deeply on what Slughorn was saying. "So, did this change? Once they got older?"
"I'm not sure exactly when Lily and Severus began moving their separate ways. What I do remember was that I noticed that they had stopped working together. Lily worked more and more with Remus Lupin and James Potter and their friends, and Severus stayed with Mulciber." Slughorn shook his head. "I didn't know, at the time, what had drawn Severus to such a character, but," he waved his hand, and a regretful tone clouded his voice, "I guess once a Death Eater, always a Death Eater."
Daphne nodded, feeling both sadness and confusion as Slughorn spoke. She felt Michael put his hand on her shoulder and she smiled at his touch.
"I asked Severus once, towards the end of his sixth year, about his friendship with Lily," Slughorn said, stroking his beard, his eyes drifting to some point to right of Daphne. "I asked him what happened between him and Lily, because they seemed to be so close and such good friends." Slughorn let out a small breath. "He only looked at me, and I remember there was a lot of—" he spread his hand out and shook them right in front of his eyes, "emotion, swirling about on his face. But he never answered me."
Slughorn brought his hand down and took his teacup once again. "I do know that many of his friends gave him trouble for his friendship with Lily. Called him all sorts of names. Called her names as well. It did stop after their fifth year though. Snape and Lily seemed to have drifted apart by then."
Daphne couldn't help narrowing her eyes at him. "Did you do anything to stop them? From calling her those names?"
Slughorn looked taken aback. "What would I have done? I would reprimand them for using such vile language, but it made no difference! They'd use it anyway."
Daphne glowered at him. "Well . . . guess it doesn't really make any difference, either then or now," she mumbled.
Slughorn sighed. "It is what many of us are destined for. To fight for whichever side we choose. Or to sit and watch and let others do the work." He gave her a look full of regret and remorse. "For some, whose memories are long and filled with the images and stories of war, to sit and do nothing can be almost as painful as fighting." And Slughorn sat thoughtfully in his chair, the flames from his fireplace dancing upon his face.
"Almost."
