The Best Revenge
A.N. Alert readers will notice that I change certain canon details in this chapter. Yes, I meant to.
Chapter 17Snape wondered what Dumbledore would think of the dinner engagement at the Malfoys' this coming Friday night. He considered forbidding Harry ever to speak of it, but then decided to brazen it out. After all, why shouldn't Harry visit his closest wizarding relations? As long as Harry was not tempted to divulge anything further about his living arrangements, there was little the Malfoys could do to get hold of him.
And after observing the boys together, Snape was not too worried about Draco's influence on Harry. The boy, otherwise so innocent and guileless, had taken Draco's measure rather quickly, and seemed more likely to influence Draco himself. It was the Malfoy boy who had seemed more anxious for the acquaintance.
"He's as spoiled as Dudley," Harry remarked. "He's not nasty to me, though. I'd like to see Malfoy Manor. Madam Malfoy is very nice-looking, don't you think?"
Ah, Narcissa. Snape sighed, feeling himself at fault. Showing the boy those pictures of Lily had softened Harry's motherless heart, and made him vulnerable to the first appealing maternal figure who presented herself. Narcissa really could be very charming, but Snape never forgot she was Bellatrix Lestrange's sister. Before they gave the Malfoys the home advantage, Snape would brief Harry thoroughly on the Blacks and Malfoys. While he knew no real crimes that could be laid at Narcissa's door, he knew that much of her behavior today was driven by ambition.
On the other hand, perhaps it's better to have Draco as a cordial relation, than to make an enemy from the very beginning. Snape had made permanent, mortal enemies during his very first journey on the Hogwarts Express. That level of conflict was not something he would want for Harry. The Dark Lord still had supporters, but why should the boy be used as a lightning rod to unite them? Better to neutralise them as far as possible. One's school years were hard enough without becoming involved in dangerous political intrigue.
Yes. He liked the idea. If Draco and Harry got on fairly well, Lucius would be unlikely to move openly against Harry Potter.
Though Lucius, too, needed watching. He could be charming enough himself, and since his father Abraxas' illness and withdrawal from public view, was spreading his influence very widely in his new role as head of the Family Malfoy. It was not the sort of charm, however, that Snape thought Harry likely to succumb to. In his questions about his family, he seemed less interested in James-less interested in father figures as a whole. It was a mother that Harry longed for, and friends his own age. While Harry obviously liked Minerva McGonagall a great deal, it was very much a teacher/student relationship-or perhaps that of an obedient nephew with a strict but kind-hearted great-aunt. Snape hoped that Harry would find a mother figure and friends of more reliable substance than the Malfoys.
But the boys had gotten on well enough for an hour or so. Draco had restrained his arrogance, and had shown some consideration in talking to Harry. Harry, for his part, had had a good lesson in polished wizarding manners.
"We've a few more people to meet," Snape remarked. "One more errand, and then we'll return to Eeylops for your owl's things. The Headmaster wanted me to introduce you to someone at the Leaky Cauldron."
It was this part of the day that Snape was most uneasy about. Dumbledore always had reasons for the errands he arranged. Sometimes they were unpleasant reasons, and sometimes they were impenetrably secret. Sometimes Snape thought that the Headmaster was impossibly wrong-headed, as he had been about Harry's family situation. Nonetheless, the Headmaster had many sources of information and often knew even more than he pretended to.
And therefore, Harry and Snape were on their way to the most famous public house in the British wizarding world. Snape would make a point of showing Harry how to access the Alley, so it was not a futile quest. But why had Dumbledore demanded it? Why did Harry have to meet Hagrid today? And why so publicly? Why couldn't the happy reunion wait until Harry came to Hogwarts?
The half-giant was a kindly creature-no one knew that better than Snape himself-and no doubt would be over the moon to make much of Harry Potter. The worst of Hagrid was his irrational Gryffindor bias. No doubt he would fill Harry's ears with the exploits of his parents and the glory of the Lion House. Snape ardently hoped that pushing Harry that hard toward Gryffindor would be as counterproductive as Draco's efforts to urge Harry to be in Slytherin. Harry really did not like to be told with whom he should associate. It was possible that his years as an outcast had made him unwilling to hear others described as beneath his notice.
They stepped through the passage, and Snape pointed out the bricks that they would need to touch on their return. Then he opened the door, and ushered Harry into the dark and smoke-filled establishment. His nose filled with the familiar smells: good beer and plenty of it; sickly-sweet tobacco; Irish stew richly simmering, available at any hour of the day or night; a mild fug from crowding witches and wizards of uncertain hygiene.
The usual suspects lined the long, battered bar.
Harry looked about him eagerly. In some ways, this was the strangest place yet. He had never been inside a muggle pub, and had no way of knowing how this differed from them. He suspected that the clientele alone was pretty unique.
The biggest man Harry had ever seen was at the bar: a man with a shaggy mane of hair a wild, tangled beard. Harry's eyes widened at the sight of him, but Professor Snape was already whispering in his ear. "That is Hagrid, the groundskeeper at Hogwarts. Don't mind the appearance-he's very kind. And very fond of you-he's the one who rescued you from the wreckage on the night of the attack."
A firm hand gave his shoulder a push, and Harry went forward to be introduced.
"Hello-" he began shyly.
"Harry!" The giant sloshed his schooner of ale in a shower of foam, slamming it down on the bar. He strode forward like a mountain, beaming like the sun, arms spread wide in greeting. "Harry! Here yeh are!"
The witches and wizards within earshot turned and stared. Their voices rustled, rumbled, and then grew to a clamor.
"Harry?"
"Harry?"
"Do you think?"
"Look at the scar!"
"Bless my soul!" shrieked a witch. "It's Harry Potter!"
As one, the crowd surged toward Harry. He stood his ground, and let Professor Snape protect him.
"COULD YOU PLEASE MAUL HIM ONE AT A TIME?" Snape shouted. "IF IT'S NOT TOO MUCH TROUBLE!"
Somewhat abashed, the rush paused, and Hagrid was able to speak to him first. He engulfed Harry in an embrace that squashed the boy's face against a horn button on the rough leather coat-somewhere around waist level.
"Hagrid, I don't think he can breathe," Snape remarked.
"Oh! Sorry!" Hagrid pushed him free and stood looking him over, wreathed in smiles. "Look at yeh! When I last saw yeh, yeh was just a little baby! And now, here yeh are, ready for Hogwarts!"
The giant produced a huge pocket handkerchief and blew his nose like a tuba. "Yeh've got yer mum's eyes."
Snape decided to observe the forms, and give the kind-hearted giant a bit of public validation. "Harry, this is Hagrid, Keeper of the Keys at Hogwarts. There isn't much he doesn't know about the forest hard by the castle and the magical creatures that live there."
"That's right decent of yeh, Professer!" Hagrid blushed, and muttered, "Shouldn'ta shouted out his name like that..."
"That's all right, Hagrid," Harry told him. "I'm very happy to meet you-again!"
Others were pushing forward to shake his hand. The barkeeper himself, a bald and toothless old man, had tears in his eyes.
"Welcome back, Mr Potter, welcome back!"
A grey-haired witch pushed forward. "Doris Crockford, Mr Potter. I can't believe I'm meeting you at last."
"So proud, Mr Potter. I'm just so proud."
"Always wanted to shake your hand-I'm all of a flutter."
"Delighted, Mr Potter. Just can't tell you. Diggle's the name-Dedalus Diggle."
Harry shouted back, "I've seen you before! You bowed to me once in a shop!"
"He remembers!" cried Diggle, looking around proudly. "Did you hear that? He remembers me!"
Harry shook hands again and again. Doris Crockford wanted to come back for more until Snape glared at her.
The barkeeper asked Hagrid, "Can I get you another of the usual, then, to celebrate the day?"
"Can't, Tom," Hagrid shook his head, clapping his hand on Harry's shoulder until Harry's knees buckled. "Just stayed to see this young feller again after all these years! I'm on Hogwarts business, yeh know. Very important! But here's someone yeh should meet, Harry!" He gestured broadly, urging a pale young man wearing a purple turban to come forward. "Professor Quirrell! Over here!" he shouted. "Harry, Professor Quirrell will be one of yer teachers at Hogwarts."
Harry put out his hand, but Quirrell had a pint mug in one hand, and a sandwich in the other. "S-s-s-sorry!" stammered the young man, and the two of them bowed to each other instead. "P-P-Potter! C-C-Can't tell you how p-pleased I am to meet you."
"What do you teach, Professor Quirrell?"
"D-Defense Against the D-DDark Arts," muttered Quirrell, with a nervous glance at Snape. "N-Not that you nneed it, eh, P-P-Potter? He looked back at Harry, directly into his eyes.
Harry hissed, and clutched his hand to his forehead. "Ow!" he cried, seeing spots before his eyes. A shocking pain in his head surged like water over a dam, and he collapsed to the floor. Pandemonium reigned. The crowd pressed forward, wanting to know what had happened to their hero.
"Hagrid!" Snape shouted, "Let's get him out of here!"
"GET BACK!" Hagrid roared. He swept Harry up in his trunk-like arms and pushed his way through the mob.
Tom, the barkeeper, was waving them to the staircase. "Too much excitement for one little lad. Enough to make anyone come over queer! Here now! Let him have a bit of a lie-down upstairs!"
Harry's eyes opened quite suddenly. Professor Snape was looking down at him. Harry blinked and realized that he was in a strange room, lying on a strange bed. Faint sounds came from downstairs, and faint smells of beer and stew.
"We're still at the Leaky Cauldron?" he guessed. Snape nodded gravely. Harry blinked again, and asked, "What happened?"
Snape narrowed his eyes. "That's what Id like to know. Are you all right?"
"Never better. I feel fine," Harry insisted, seeing Snape's disbelief. "My head hurt really bad all of a sudden, but it's gone now."
"Just like that?"
"Yeah-I mean, yes, sir."
"Where did your head hurt?" Snape scowled, looking the boy over.
Harry reached up, rubbing his forehead uncertainly, then finding the familiar raised tissue. "My scar, sir. It hurt horribly, like being stabbed with a knife. It never did before."
Snape said nothing for a moment. Then: "Your scar never hurt before? Never?"
"Well," Harry temporized, "I guess it probably hurt a lot when I got it, but no, not since then."
"Let's have a look." He took Harry's head in one hand, and pushed back the untidy hair with the other. Lightly he touched a fingertip to the scar, and nearly jumped out of his skin as he felt the tingling ghost of a familiar pain in his Dark Mark. An involuntary hiss escaped him. What the bloody hell is this?
"Are you all right, Professor?"
Deeply alarmed, Snape struggled to master his face. This was no ordinary scar. But I knew that already. Curse scars can be very peculiar. But this- With sickening dread, Snape realized that something in Harry's scar must link him to the Dark Lord. How is this possible? Does Albus know? With an expression that was more grimace than smile, Snape released Harry, and brushed the black hair down over the eerie lightning bolt shape.
"It doesn't hurt now? Do you feel anything at all?"
"No, sir. I'm all right now. I'm sorry I made such a fuss. It really did hurt, though."
Snape gave a long sigh. He was going to have to discuss some of this with Dumbledore. He had not seen Quirrell since his return from abroad, but something was wrong with the man. What was that stammer? And the purple turban?
He had taught Muggle Studies for several years, before persuading Dumbledore to let him have a go at DADA. He had taken a year's sabbatical for research, and Snape had heard nothing much from him in that time, and not much through Dumbledore either. Charity Burbage had taken the Muggle Studies chair, and was a great improvement, in Snape's opinion. Whatever had happened to Quirrell, the change was very much for the worse.
The scar, though. This in itself was not good. This could be very, very bad, in fact. This merited some serious research of his own.
Harry slid off the high, broad bed and went to the window. The room faced back, giving a wonderful view of Diagon Alley below. "Hagrid already left?" he asked, sorry that he hadn't had more time to speak to the friendly giant.
"A few minutes ago. He carried you upstairs and remarked that you didn't weigh much more than the last time. He hung over your bed like a heartbroken dog, until I told him I'd owl him with your condition. He had his important Hogwarts business to transact."
Under his calm words, Snape was seething. The revelation that Harry's scar was still full of Dark Magic had made him feel off-balance and edgy. There were things going on that he knew nothing about. What was Dumbledore thinking, to make such a show of what Snape thought should be utterly secret?
Dumbledore had told them that his sources had indicated that unpleasant things had been occurring in the forests of distant Albania-unpleasant things that now seemed to be moving north. Dumbledore was convinced it was the Dark Lord manifesting himself. He had a plan to lure out whatever remained of that monster, and to do it he needed something that no one who craved immortality could ignore.
And he had sent Hagrid to fetch it! Of course, Hagrid couldnt keep a secret if his life depended on it. Snape understood that well enough-bait was useless unless it was openly displayed. But to involve Harry! Why today? Am I wrong? Is the bait Harry, and not-
Surely not. The Dark Lord might have unfinished business with Harry Potter, but surely Dumbledore would not put an eleven-year-old boy at risk...
Snape scowled, thinking it was, in fact, entirely likely. Dumbledore would do whatever was necessary to put an end to the Dark Lord. Damn Albus. There must always be wheels within wheels where Albus Dumbledore is involved.
"There's Hagrid!" Harry exclaimed, pointing out the window. "Why does he carry an umbrella?"
"He always does. I think-" Snape thought truth was best here. "-Well, the fact is that Hagrid was expelled when he was a student, but Dumbledore kept him on as gamekeeper. Dumbledore is a great one for second chances." Especially if it creates a sense of obligation, he thought sourly. "I believe he keeps the bits of his old wand in the umbrella."
"What did he do to get expelled?" Harry asked, anxious to know what he must avoid doing.
"I'm really not sure," Snape lied. "I believe that whatever it was, Dumbledore felt the evidence did not warrant such a punishment."
Harry was still looking out the window. "And there's Professor Quirrell!" He leaned out of the window, looking carefully. "He looks like he's following him."
"He? Who?" Snape strode to the window and looked where Harry was pointing. Quirrell was walking slowly, and would have seemed unnoticeable from street level. Hagrid, of course, was easy to follow: the shaggy head looming far above everyone else. The half-giant turned in at Gringotts. After a moment, Quirrell slipped in behind him.
"He was going to Gringotts," Harry said, thinking aloud. "He said he had Hogwarts business. Do you think Professor Quirrell really was following him? It looked like it."
"Harry." Snape took the boy by the shoulder and turned him towards himself. "Whether he was or not is none of your business. If there is anything untoward going on, I will look into it and discuss it with the Headmaster and Professor McGonagall. It's nothing for you to worry about. Do you understand me?"
"But-" Harry saw Snape's frown, and capitulated. "Yes, sir." To himself he promised, I may not worry about it, but I can think about it! Aloud he said, "Hagrid seems nice. I hope I'll see him at Hogwarts."
"I daresay he'll invite you to tea. Don't eat the rock cakes."
A.N. Short. I know, but I needed to stop here, for now. I've had so many interesting reviews about Harry's financial situation. Evidently, it's something that people strongly empathize with. Yes, the idea of an orphaned Harry with limited means is disturbing, which is why I wrote it. However, I have had some very good remedies suggested. A number of you have brought up the whole issue of Harry receiving presents or bequests. It's clear to me that Harry's mail must have been held or otherwise tampered with over the years, because there would certainly, at the very least, have been birthday and Christmas cards. I will give the issue some thought, and try to find a way to incorporate it. And yes, childless witches and wizards might well name him as a beneficiary. Very true.
And then there is the issue of whether an eleven-year-old can genuinely be a "bad guy." Some of you feel that Tom Riddle was. I disagree, to a certain extent. An unbiased reading of Dumbledore's conduct to Tom in HBP shows absolutely appalling neglect and a horrifying lack of empathy the part of Dumbledore. Because he does not like this boy, Dumbledore lets him go to Diagon Alley alone and unprotected. Hello? Knockturn Alley, anyone? It's clearly not a safe place, especially for the uninitiated. Tom is certainly a very disturbed child, very much in need of help. Does he get it? Uhh-no. Dumbledore "watches" him. What the hell good does that do? Does he warn the Headmaster and the other staff that they have a boy who kills animals and harms other children, when it is clearly his duty to do so? Uh-no. Does he treat Tom with the smallest bit of compassion? No-he terrorizes him, undoubtedly fostering Tom's obsession with being so powerful that no one else could harm him. Laume wrote an interesting story in which Dumbledore behaves like the experienced educator he pretends to be. It's very good, and very illuminating. So, no. While Tom had graduated to "bad guyness" by the age of sixteen-and while I understand the arguments made that he was already unsalvageable by eleven-I don't think calling an eleven-year old a villain is justified. JKR giving him a backstory displaying his "bad blood"-his rotten ancestry- I find objectionable. It's very hypocritical to depict the purebloods as wicked and stupid, when the author herself seems to feel that ancestry is usually (though not always) destiny. Yes, Harry and Tom were both orphans, but Harry's parents were "good" people, and Tom's were not. Thus, I suppose, Harry's natural "goodness."
And note that nowhere does anyone ever take a serious look at Tom's upbringing and say,"Hey-that didn't work out so well. Maybe we should do something to protect magical orphans." Dumbledore clearly learned nothing (or perhaps he learned the wrong lessons) from the debacle he witnessed. While fanon is full of great ideas, canon is silent on the matter, and seems to imply that Tom is sui generis, and that nothing needs to be done institutionally.