The Best Revenge
Chapter 34
"My word, Severus!" Dumbledore remonstrated. "Did you absolutely have to kill it?"
"Yes, I did," Snape answered curtly.
The troll had toppled over, bloodied and half-dismembered, just as Dumbledore rushed to the rescue. Minerva blew out a breath of relief at the sight of Harry unharmed, but gave the boy a sharp look, all the same. Snape was prepared to do rather more than that. Flitwick was still down the hall, and Pomona behind him, puffing with effort. Albus and Minerva spoke quietly to each other, glancing at the dead troll.
Charity, at least, seemed unharmed. Snape sneaked another look at her. The firelight had dimmed, and she was herself now: dark blonde hair, round cheeks, and wearing a color he had never seen on Lily. The resemblance had been strong, but brief. Charity Burbage was not at all like Lily Evans; though, as Lily might well have done, she was fussing over those two undeserving young dunderheads.
"If your friend Hermione hadn't told me you were missing, who knows what might have happened?"
Harry was embarrassed, and wisely held his peace, but Draco was full of excuses.
"I think we did rather well, actually. We disarmed the creature, and with a bit of luck we could have outrun it, and anyway nothing happened-"
"Mr Malfoy," Snape said, with terrible calm, "keep digging. The hole you are about to find yourself in will just get deeper."
Draco turned red. He and Harry looked at each other, wondering what to say.
"Professor-," Harry began uncertainly. "We weren't trying to show off. We were worried-about-you know," he muttered in a low voice, looking uneasily at Charity and Minerva, and with even greater unease at the beaming Headmaster. "We just wanted to help."
Snape exploded. "You could have been killed, and a bloody stupid way to die it would have been! Your mother gave her life for you ten years ago on this very night. So good of you to display how cheaply you value it!"
Harry hung his head, but Snape sensed a kind of resistance there, too. It was all he could do not to give the idiot boy a clout over the ear. Charity came to his side and touched his arm. It helped him restrain himself-just barely.
Sprout arrived, and exclaimed in some horror over the bloody remains of the troll. "My goodness! Professor Snape! You certainly don't use half-measures!" She turned to Harry, not unkindly, and said, "I'm very sorry to see you out wandering, Mr Potter! I thought you were a sensible lad. What were you and Mr Malfoy thinking?"
"I was in a hurry to get to the Common Room, Professor, and I got separated from the rest. Draco and I were going to go to the dungeons together, and then we heard the troll and ran this way."
Snape considered the boy's story a fairly good lie. There had been confusion. The troll had come this way-perhaps following their scent. Pomona, to her credit, did not appear to believe a word of it.
"Well, whatever you planned, Mr Potter, you were very foolish to run ahead by yourself. You know you're supposed to stick close to your prefects and your friends. I'm sorry, but we'll have to do something to help you remember never to be so careless again."
Snape spoke up, "I was going to give Mr Malfoy detention tomorrow morning with Mr Filch. Perhaps some manual labour might be beneficial for Mr Potter as well. They both of them need to learn to do as they are told." He glared at each boy in turn, hoping that his words penetrated those thick skulls.
"Very sound thinking, Professor Snape," Pomona approved. "After all, poor Mr Filch will have to work very hard to clean up this horrid mess. The boys need to understand that actions have consequences!"
Draco and Harry looked at the blood and soot smearing the walls, floor-even the ceiling, and then looked at each other in dismay. Detention with Filch!
"My concept of punishment, however, does not include starvation," Snape said coldly. "I suggest you return to the Great Hall and see if any dinner is left."
Miserable that Professor Snape was angry with him, Harry wondered if this would be the end of their Saturday afternoon tea-times that he liked so much. He was both relieved and concerned by the Professor's next words:
"And I'll see you tomorrow afternoon, Mr Potter, when we can thrash out this latest misadventure of yours at greater length!"
"Just go, gentlemen," Minerva said, shooing the boys away.
Walking past Professor Flitwick, Harry whispered, "We used the levitation charm on the club, Professor!"
"-and it worked!" Draco added, still impressed with himself.
Flitwick's face was grave, but he gave the boys a nod, and a pat on the shoulder to Draco, who was closer. Professor Sprout hustled the boys back to the Great Hall, while the others fell to discussing this extraordinary event.
"Really! Trolls in the corridors! First-years thinking themselves ready to do battle against them!" Sprout muttered as the doors to the Great Hall swung open to admit them. "What is Hogwarts coming to?"
"Detention," groaned Draco to Harry. "I can't believed we're being punished for saving the whole school! And we'll have to scrub like-like-muggles!"
Harry grunted noncommittally, guessing that Draco was unaccustomed to punishments of any kind. Harry was not looking forward to detention either. He was certainly familiar with cleaning up all manner of disgusting things from his days from the Dursleys, but he had hoped those days were behind him. He knew that Professor Snape wanted to protect him, but Harry's motives were good. Other people might not understand, but Professor Snape knew the situation with the stone, and should appreciate Harry doing his bit to help. Feeling very misunderstood and put-upon, he slouched into the Great Hall.
The noise rose at the sight of their disheveled state.
"-Did you see the troll?"
"-What happened?"
"-Where are the professors?"
"Harry!" called Cedric. "Are you all right, mate?"
Harry gave the Hufflepuffs a wry grin and a thumbs-up.
Draco was not so modest. His downcast shuffle opened out to a swagger, and he declared, "We saw it. We fought it. We lived to tell the tale."
More noise and speculation. Harry thought credit should be given where it was due, as he slid into his place at the table.
"We were holding it off when Professor Burbage came to help. And then Professor Snape arrived and he-killed it."
"Killed it?" gasped Justin, wide-eyed.
"Are you sure?" asked Hannah.
"Pretty sure."
His plate of food was still warm and looked very inviting. Susan had cut a generous piece of treacle tart for him as well. He dug in, waving at his housemates to wait until he had a few bites in him, before he told them the whole story. At the Slytherin table, Draco was gesticulating vividly, spinning a tale of derring-do. His friends listened in amazement.
Most of those in the Great Hall, however, were in agreement that Harry Potter must be due most of the credit. Awestruck gossip swelled the noise. Covert glances and outright stares of admiration focused on the dark-haired boy obliviously gnawing on a turkey leg.
"-he's so brave," murmured Lavender Brown.
"-and so modest," sighed Parvati Patil.
Hermione slipped away from the Ravenclaws and sat down by him briefly.
"Harry! I was so worried! I'm so glad Professor Burbage found you! You could have been killed, you know!"
"Yeah, I suppose. It was pretty big, and it smelled worse than anything you can imagine! Professor Snape took care of it quick smart, though. He was-impressive." Seeing that Hermione was still angry with him, he soothed her with, "-and Draco and I have detention. Professor Snape was really put out with us."
"And so he should be!" Hermione affirmed briskly. She got up to go hound Draco as well, but added, "I'm just so glad you weren't hurt!"
The older Hufflepuffs wanted every detail of what Professor Snape had done to defeat the creature. Harry, in between savoury bites, found some pleasure in giving them the blow-by-blow.
"Detention?" asked Susan. "No points lost?"
"They didn't say anything about points," Harry shrugged.
"Well! That's all right then," Susan decided, serving Harry another slice of tart.
Rather than leaving the troll for the appalled Filch to manage on his own, the Professors kindly disposed of the remains. Dumbledore was not happy that any creature should lose its life, but could hardly blame Snape for defending students.
"But the fact that a troll was loose in Hogwarts in the first place-" Minerva began hotly.
"-is a matter for discussion tomorrow, I think," said Dumbledore. "For now, let us rejoin our friends and students in the Great Hall."
Filius Flitwick, Minerva noted, was unhappy and unsatisfied at the Headmaster's blithe speech. She must persuade Severus to bring both Filius and Pomona into their private councils. The troll, while dangerous, was not the most dangerous thing in Hogwarts at the present time.
Snape stood irresolute, staring at the patterns the blood had spattered onto the wall. If he went back into the Great Hall, the sight of Harry happily eating, smugly sure of his own invincibility, might goad him into saying or doing something that could never be taken back.
Luckily, Charity came to his rescue. "If you don't object, Headmaster, I could do with a bit of quiet." She told them, a bit embarrassed, "I really don't feel like facing any questions at the moment. If you wouldn't mind seeing me to my quarters, Severus, we could have some sandwiches there. What do you say?" she asked Snape.
"What?" he responded, rather rudely, not sure what had been said to him.
"I said," she repeated patiently. "supper in my quarters. What do you say?"
Albus was beaming at him, which made him feel very contrary, but Minerva and Filius were industriously in conversation about the troll, their faces averted. Snape gave the Headmaster his haughtiest sneer, and turned away. "That would be very-agreeable."
Charity led the way down the corridor, and Snape had an uneasy feeling he was being watched. He glanced behind him at his three colleagues, but Minerva had called Albus' attention to the state of the damaged statue, and if they had been staring at him, they had looked away before he could catch them at it.
"-and some Irish coffee, too, " Charity was saying. "I make a rather good Irish coffee."
"What? Yes, very nice." His other colleagues vanished as they turned a corner. He cleared his throat. "I was quite alarmed for you."
With a weak laugh, she confessed, "I was quite alarmed for myself! I was a perfect fool in Defense. I'm no good at dueling at all." Her laugh warmed a little, "Had I but known the troll was involved, I would have brought reinforcements!"
They were climbing the stairs toward her rooms. More lightly, she said, "The boys did rather well confusing the troll, when all's said and done. I only slowed it down, but perhaps the boys could have made their escape if they hadn't been so gallant and protective. Harry refused to run away and leave me! That's worth something, Severus!"
"Is it worth their hare-brained lives? Young dunderheads. Harry was behaving just like his wretched father James Potter. There's a man who fancied himself invincible, and you know what came of that!"
He was silent, not trusting the discretion of the portraits they passed until they were safely past the door to Charity's quarters. Immediately on entering, he burst out: "I daresay it will come as no surprise to you that I hate to see Harry displaying any resemblance to that idiot."
"I do remember what a tiresome tease James Potter was, but he was Harry's father, Severus. James is bound to make an appearance in Harry now and then."
"And I intend to see that that happens as rarely as possible. I don't want Harry getting the idea that rules don't apply to him."
He stalked over to her fireplace and brooded there, while Charity summoned an elf and gave it quick instructions. In only a few moments, the elf had returned, and a small table was set for two. A plate of sandwiches, a tureen of steaming soup, and a carafe of wine appeared.
"Come on," Charity urged him away from the fire. "You'll feel better after you eat. And so will I."
He grumbled, more out of habit than for any other reason. He threw himself into the place she indicated, scowling at the table. Partan bree? The creamy crab soup was a favourite of his. Actually he was quite hungry, he found, as he tore into a sandwich. Charity served him a bowl of the soup, and for a time he thought of nothing but the good and comforting food before him.
After he had finished the soup, two sandwiches, and a glass of wine, Charity asked him, "Harry lives with his muggle relatives, doesn't he? He doesn't seem spoiled to me, but you would know better than I. Don't they set proper boundaries for him?"
"They-" He paused and made a decision. "I must have your word that you will divulge nothing of what I am about to tell you."
"You have it."
"Harry's relatives are-a fairly repulsive lot. They hate magic and treated him badly until I intervened last summer. I think," he said, considering the matter carefully, "that it is not so much a matter of no boundaries being set, as of setting capricious and unreasonable ones. Harry has little experience trusting the adults in his life. If a thing needs doing, his impulse is to do it himself, and not to expect help from anyone. I am working on teaching him to respect his elders, but with staff members like Quirrell-Binns, too, I suppose-it's an uphill battle."
"I see." She sipped her wine and sat thinking. "It would be very important, then, to remain calm, and to always be the adult, whatever he gets up to. If you want him to respect his elders, you have to present him elders worthy of respect. It's too late, at his age, for him to take it all on faith. Not like Hermione Granger! I should never have known that Harry and Draco were missing had she not come running to tell me. Exactly the opposite situation: she trusts adults more than her peers-or herself, I think."
Snape grunted assent, enjoying the pudding that appeared for afters. This was all very pleasant, he decided. Charity's rooms were attractively decorated. He might ask her, in future, about the exotic artifacts spaced among the books on her shelves. Very comfortable-not excessively feminine. Not as spare as Minerva's quarters, but pleasant in their own way.
After the meal was taken away, she set about brewing coffee to which she added a generous dollop of Irish whiskey. Snape was pleased that the chair provided him by the fire was proportioned adequately for a man of his height.
"I think you you'll like it," she murmured, passing him the heavy stemmed goblet. He took it, and their hands touched briefly.
A shock, of sorts. Snape stiffened, and the liquid sloshed threateningly.
"Sorry," Charity apologised, settling back opposite him with her own drink.
Snape eyed her warily, feeling uncommonly alert and on edge. The flicker of-something-reminded him of the time he had touched that secret book of Minerva's. Not so unpleasant, of course-but there was something there.
Unaccountably nervous, he concentrated on his coffee, and drank it without words. Perhaps it was time to make his farewells. Charity must be tired after such a night...
He set the glass aside, and stood.
"I must go. I have a great deal-"
"Must you? I'm sorry. Id hoped we could have a nice long chat..."
"Perhaps another night," he countered, feeling very peculiar. "The hour is late."
She did not argue with him, but stood herself, stepping in between him and the fire. To his surprise and alarm, she put her hands on his shoulders.
"I haven't thanked you properly for coming to my rescue," she said. "I really was rather frightened, and you were very impressive."
A rustle of silk and a scent of lime flowers. She stood on tiptoe and pressed a kiss lightly on his cheek. Snape stared at her, wondering what had come over her to do something so extraordinary. He had not noticed the colour of her eyes before. They were a light, warm brown, and they were looking very frankly into his. Snape did not need to actively use legilimancy to see what had crossed her mind.
Another kiss, this time on the lips: brief, soft. Another long and meaningful look.
"My hero."
Had the world just changed? Snape considered what to do. He considered what he ought to do, what he wanted to do, and what he ought to want to do. Charity's expression was already changing: uncertain, abashed, preparing to make a joke of it all, thinking of how to give him an escape route and a way for her to save face.
"Hardly," he answered. Deciding that serious thought could go hang, he pulled her to him, and gave her a brief, rough kiss in return. Clearing his throat, he called for his quarters and plunged into the flames without a backward look.
And so missed her little victory dance.
The wizard in the purple turban limped furiously down the stairs, cursing the monster in the third-floor chamber. All his plans had blown up in his face like a misbrewed potion. All his patient waiting in the stuffy closet while the troll snuffled after those two infernal boys-all the anxious minutes while the old fool and his minions dithered back and forth. It had all been for naught.
No-not entirely. At least he knew the path to his prize was guarded by a Cerberus. He had never come across one before, and had not expected it to be so resistant to magic. He hissed in pain. Blood was running down his leg, pooling in his boot. He needed to get back to his quarters and deal with the wound where no one would see.
A Cerberus! Where had the old fool found one? No need to wonder-it was that oaf Hagrid, no doubt. Ironic that his earlier use of the buffoon had resulted in Hagrid's permanent residence at Hogwarts, and thus his unwitting interference in his own plans. No matter-he would have his revenge on him. On the lot of them.
On the Malfoy boy, certainly. The fanged serpent of his own family's coat of arms had the right of it. "Nemo me impune lacessit," He whispered, lingering over the sibilants. No one harms me with impunity. A fitting motto. The boy would pay, as would that slippery devil his father. Nor would he forget the traitor Snape, who now fawned over his greatest enemy, that wretched little brat, Harry Potter. Every one of them would pay.
"Hurry, you fool!" he snarled, hating this damaged vessel, ignoring the protests and excuses from the voice of his servant-a weak voice, growing ever weaker. No matter. He would have better lodgings before long-and lodgings more permanent than some in the castle would like.
Harry's eyes squeezed open reluctantly to the first light of morning. Professor Snape was angry with him. He had detention this morning with Mr Filch. The world was a dark and terrible place.
Accepting that he had to face the day, he pushed the covers aside. With a whisper, a soft package slid off the foot of the bed to the floor. Harry peered over his blankets, puzzled, and reached out for the parcel. It was very light.
A present? Who would give me a present-especially after last night?
Justin was snoring faintly, and Ernie was completely under the covers-even his head. Harry quietly pulled the wrappings away, and found something fluid and silvery-grey that slithered through his hands almost like water. He unfolded it, and found that it was a piece of cloth-and much larger than he had thought at first. He jumped out of bed, and kept unfolding it, layer after layer of a fabric lighter than any silk he had imagined.
It fastened-it had a clasp. A cloak? He rushed to the little mirror by the door, ready to admire himself.
His body was missing.
Astonished, Harry gaped at the sight. A disembodied head stared back him, green eyes wide. He pulled the cloak over his head. The cloth was so light that he could see through it fairly easily, but no reflection gazed back.
A piece of parchment lay on the floor. Harry snatched it up, hoping to unravel this mystery. The note said:
Your father left this is my possession before he died. It is time it was returned to you.
Use it well.
There was no signature. Harry felt very strange. Who had sent the cloak? Had it really once belonged to his father?
At once all sorts of impossibilities became possible. Harry pulled the cloak around him, thinking of what he might do-all the things he could do-things that Professor Snape need never know or worry about.
"Brilliant!" he whispered. "Absolutely brilliant!"
Note: My thanks to JOdel, for her continuing advice and beta skills. If I ever finish this monster, she is considering an illustrated version for her Red Hen site. If you have not seen her other work, you should.
Thanks also to SlytherinDragoon, another faithful friend, who keeps me at it!
The motto and coat of arms of the Gaunts is stolen from Poe's Cask of Amontillado. I can see Tom Riddle behaving exactly like Montresor.
No-Charity has not bespelled Snape. The jolt he feels is the (for him) unfamiliar feeling of mutual attraction. To paraphrase Dumbledore: A magic beyond all they learn at Hogwarts!
I hope my glimpse of Quirrelmort has answered the questions I received about what he was doing in the last chapter!