Chapter 17

VISITS

The next morning, Saturday, Harry awoke with a burning desire to find out everything he possibly could about Snape and his mother. Did Sirius know something? He'd been with them at Hogwarts. But asking roundabout questions by letter would probably result in no answers at all. Dumbledore? He'd once said he had a good reason to trust Snape's loyalty—a reason he couldn't reveal. Harry stared up at the canopy that shrouded his four-poster bed. That meant Dumbledore was unlikely to reveal it to him now.

At breakfast, Harry remained tangled in his quandary. When Cho smiled at him from the Ravenclaw table, he pretended not to notice. By the time Hermione pushed back her plate and rose to her feet, he'd barely nibbled a biscuit.

"Going to the library?" Ron asked. "I have some research to do."

Hermione shifted from one foot to the other. "Uh, I can meet you there in an hour."

"Then where're you going now? I'll come with you."

"Well, actually, I'm going to Myrtle's. And this is not a good time of day for a boy to sneak in there."

Sidelong, Harry saw Ron's eyes widen.

"I want to say, 'Hi,'" Hermione added quickly. "See if she's feeling better." Before Ron could answer, she hurried towards the door.

After a moment of staring, Ron switched his attention to Harry.

"I have to go meet the new griffin." Suddenly, Harry realized he knew the perfect person to ask about Snape and his mother: Hagrid.

Ron smiled. "I'll come—"

"No. Uh, griffins are tricky. Until Waldo gets settled, it'd be best not to crowd him." Besides, Harry wanted to talk to Hagrid alone. Out of his friend's many fine qualities, the one he was counting on this morning was his inability to keep a secret.

When Harry stood up from the table, his food barely touched, Ron stayed—glumly balancing his spoon on his knife.

Waldo wasn't half as impressive as Regis had been. He was at least three feet shorter, and his feathers were rust-brown rather than brilliant red. But his stance was relaxed, and his eyes were calm. At first, he examined his new trainer gravely, but after Hagrid introduced them and Harry performed the proper bow, he strolled forward and inclined his head for a pat.

After an hour of learning old English commands until Waldo's cooperation showed Harry his pronunciation was acceptable, his mind slid inescapably back to the questions that had plagued him since dawn. He felt relieved when Hagrid called it quits and invited him for a cup of tea.

Passing the Slytherin pen, Harry saw Millicent chatting with the four-headed Hydra. The exchange sounded like English, but he figured that was a trick of his mind translating the Parseltongue.

Then Hagrid called out, "Good mornin', t'yeh. Enjoyin' the sun? It'll star' rainin', soon enough."

The newest of the heads replied, "Water's no worry for us. Why do you think we're called a hydra?"

As Harry raised a puzzled eyebrow, Millicent grinned toothily. "Meet Quatre. He speaks English. It turns out that when a hydra grows a new head, it has the ability the creature feels it needs most. His translations are helping me learn Parseltongue."

Even this interesting fact couldn't distract Harry from his need to talk privately to Hagrid. Yet when he sat down at his friend's massive oak table, he was still wondering where to start. He surveyed the hut for inspiration. Since his last visit, Hagrid had knitted another yard onto his latest red-and-gold afghan project. Over the mantle hung a new photograph of his mum, tenderly cooing. Harry smiled back. The summer before, when Hagrid and Madame Maxime had been envoys to the Carpathian giants, his friend had happily discovered that his mother did love him—that the reason she'd left had been to spare him the shame of having a giantess mother. They'd exchanged letters ever since.

But one addition to Hagrid's quarters surprised Harry, something he'd never expected to see: piles of books. Two volumes by Goshawk and Waffling's Advanced Magical Theory lay on the night table. On a stool by the wardrobe, more standard texts by Jigger, Spore, and Angedoux made a haphazard tower.

When Harry caught his eye, Hagrid grinned. "The letters did help. I never would o' hoped fer it, but after all these years, I'm bein' given me chance."

"Chance?" Harry leaned forward. "To—?"

"Ter mend me wand. Ter train myself up. Ter become a full-fledged wizard, good an' proper."

Harry whooped. "Brilliant! Congratulations!" That was quick. He, Hermione, and Ron had only written the Ministry the afternoon before.

Looking pleased but embarrassed, Hagrid turned to pour water from the teakettle into his bucket-sized teapot. "The headmaster tol' me this mornin' an' brough' me all the books I need ter study. I don' fancy all tha' readin', but the professors promised ter tutor me private-like when they're able. It'll be a bi' catch-as-catch can, wha' with ev'rythin' else I have ter do, but one o' these days, I migh' even take me O.W.L.S." He set his teakettle back on his stove. "Yeh could say, I owe it all ter Regis."

Harry laughed, happy for his friend. "That's one subject you won't have to brush up on—magical creatures."

Hagrid plunked his enormous tea tray on the table, then handed Harry a bowl-sized cup. "With griffins it's jus' a matter o' knowin' the family tree. As a young man, I apprenticed fer a time at the Enchanted Preserve. I worked wi' Regis's dad. From hard knocks Rex gave me, I knew nothin' on this earth would get a harness on his son. Waldo, now—his dad's noble heart tol' me he'd wear it like regalia."

"Like father, like son." At last, Harry saw his opening. He waited while Hagrid poured him a steaming cup. With his ladle-sized spoon, he stirred in milk and sugar. "How about people? You've been here long enough to see a lot of father-son pairs. The Weasleys, for example."

Hagrid sipped his tea. "Well, Percy's an odd one, but the other lads're clearly nuts from tha' tree. Lively an' full o' fun."

"The Malfoys?"

"Spiteful, both o' them—but a bit scared o' not bein' thought the best."

"And the Averys?"

Hagrid grunted. "That Wilhelm. There's a nut tha' didn' fall far from the tree. A struttin' little do-nothin' who fancies the gold his great-granddad made earns him the right ter look down his nose. Just like his dad."

Harry nodded. Lifting his oversized teacup with both hands, he brought the steaming drink to his lips. He smiled over the rim to show his friend how much he appreciated it. Then casually he asked, "And Snape—"

"Professor Snape," Hagrid corrected, then winked. "Yeh always work it 'roun' ter Professor Snape. What're yeh suspectin' him o' now?"

Of being sweet on my mother. Aloud, Harry said, "Nothing. Just wondering what his parents were like."

"One look at that pair, an' yeh'd know he'd been adopted." Hagrid stirred his tea thoughtfully.

"Adopted?" Harry hadn't expected that news.

"Not a bit like either o' them. His mum was the prettiest, flirtiest girl. You'd've thought her part veela. His dad was a big, jovial chap—a drinker an' a gam'ler. Those two had everythin' withou' workin' a day fer it. Everythin' but a child. When the Missus saw her Mister driftin' away, she got herself a boy to reel him back. Professor Dumbledore arranged it."

Harry sat back, full of questions. Who were Snape's birth parents? Why had Dumbledore handled their baby's adoption? Had they been teenagers the headmaster had helped avoid a scandal? When he looked to Hagrid, the half-giant just shook his head and chomped his raisin cake. Before Harry could think of something to prod him, his friend swallowed and went on.

"I 'spect it worked fer awhile. Then they both los' interest. Yeh'd catch 'em in the gossip pages o' The Daily Prophet—him gam'lin' at some charity even', her dancin' at another. No thought fer their li'l boy. Sev'rus spen' so much time with tutors tha' when he come ter Hogwarts, he knew more than many a fourth year."

Harry remembered the first day he'd walked into Snape's classroom, the professor scornfully asking if the famous Harry Potter knew the difference between monkshood and wolfsbane. And Sirius had claimed that Snape arrived knowing more curses than most students did when they graduated. "So he was a top student?"

"Eventually. But fer awhile Avery sidetracked him. Their first year they became cronies. Inevitable, yeh migh' say. Both sent ter Hogwarts by old, wealthy, pureblood families. Both sorted into Slytherin. But Sev'rus had wha' yeh migh' call an unfortunate manner, an' I 'spect he was anxious fer a friend. Willimar could charm—if he though' yeh migh' be useful. Can yeh imagine how useful a lazy git like him foun' a scholar like Sev'rus?"

Harry leaned his chin in his hand. His memory of Wilhelm's father was of the Death Eater groveling before Lord Voldemort. Difficult to imagine that the Hogwarts Potions master had once deferred to him. "Snape did Avery's schoolwork?"

"Professor Snape, yes, I believe he did qui' a bit of it—all fer the privilege o' bein' Avery's pal. They became a double act o' the worst kind. Young Will would deem someone unworthy; Sev'rus would think up the stingin' insult. At the time, I was only the gamekeeper an' my reputation was un'er a cloud. Yeh can imagine how they treated me."

Harry could. "Then why in the world do you seem to like him?"

"Things changed."

Author's Note: Yeah, a different "backstory" for Snape. His actual backstory hadn't been revealed when this fic was written! Please review!