Chapter 18

GHOSTS

Hagrid shrugged. "I wouldn' be tellin' yeh this 'cept the gossip was in all the papers an' yeh could o' found it out in the library. At the start o' Sev'rus's seventh year, his dad bet an' lost not jus' all the family had but more than the family had. His mum run off with some Muggle millionaire from Brazil. His dad jus' disappeared. To this day the goblins use his name ter remind gam'lers what happens when they don' settle accounts."

Harry stared at Hagrid. He'd never imagined such a story in Snape's past. "That must have been a shock."

Hagrid nodded. "I never knew how Sev'rus felt 'bout losin' his dad, but losin' the money knocked him down a notch. Avery dropped him, tha's fer sure. Thought he'd have ter leave Hogwarts, too, 'til Albus appointed him assistant to the Potions master. Made it look like an honor, not jus' a way ter pay his bill. Sev'rus became respons'ble fer procurin' the ingredients the Potions master needed." Hagrid shot Harry a mischievous look. "And fer ingredients that came from magical creatures, he had ter come ter me."

Harry grinned. "A chance to get a bit of your own back?"

"At first, I admit. Bu' after awhile I grew t'respect him—an' him me."

Still smiling, Harry shook his head. Was there ever a man kinder and more forgiving than Hagrid? Just yesterday, Snape announced he'd reported him to the Ministry for unauthorized use of his broken wand, yet Hagrid could still talk about respect. "And since he needed a job when he got out of school, he decided to aim for professor?"

"Not at all. When Sev'rus was young, what he really wanted ter be was an auror—summat gran' an' splashy, summat ter make people goggle. He was a great fan o' the Longbottoms."

"Fan?" Of Neville's parents? That was hard to believe.

"Yes. In the days when aurors' work was directed outside the wizardin' circle—against vampires, ghouls, banshees an' the like—reporters, people like Rita Skeeter, wrote up their exploits regularly. When Sev'rus came by fer hippogriff toenails or centaur spit or what have yeh, he'd ask what new magazines I'd got an' sit righ' where yeh're sittin' now ter read 'em. The Longbottoms were qui' popular."

Harry remembered Dumbledore using just that phrase. He hadn't known being ballyhooed in the press was part of what he'd meant.

Hagrid sighed. "O' course, once You-Know-Who started bringin' the dark arts into our midst an' nobody knew who ter trust, bein' a famous auror became a bit of a hazard. Nowadays they work pretty secret."

Too late for the Longbottoms, Harry knew. Because of their fame, they'd been kidnapped by Voldemort's diehard supporters and tortured into madness. Thinking of the Longbottoms naturally made him think of their as-good-as-orphaned son.

"Poor Neville," Hagrid said as if reading Harry's thoughts. "Such a timid soul. There's a nut tha' fell all the way on the other side o' the fence. Albus's spoken ter Sev'rus 'bout bein' too rough on the boy. I 'spect Sev'rus thinks he can bully him into showin' some o' his dad's spirit."

Hagrid gnawed his raisin cake. Harry's mind circled back to his original purpose in coming. He mentally kicked himself for lacking the guts to bring up what was really bothering him. Moistening his lips, he ventured, "Snape—Professor Snape—knew my dad at school and hated him. What about ... my mom? Were they ever—"

"They?" Hagrid exploded into laughter. He shook so hard in his chair, the wood floor began to tremble. "Se-Sev'rus an' Lily?" Another laughing fit choked his words. "Li-lily an' Se-ver-us?"

The more Hagrid laughed, the broader the relieved smile that perked up Harry's mouth. Snape and his mother—anyone could see the idea was ridiculous.

Hagrid wiped his eyes with the back of his sleeve. "Oh, Harry! Yer mum an' dad were a pair from year one. She didn' always go adventurin' with him—in those days us men were still a bit too protective o' the ladies. Hermione's been an education, I can tell yeh. An' that Cho! But otherwise, James an' Lily were inseparable. Wha' in the world made yeh think—" Another roar of laughter overtook him. But as it died into a ripple of chuckles, his expression grew reflective. "Of course, Lily an' Sev'rus did work together."

A cold lump formed in Harry's stomach. "What do you mean work together?"

"Well, the same time Sev'rus became the Potions master's assistant, yer mum became hospital assistant. An' the hospital uses more potions than any place, so sometimes Lily got involved in makin' 'em."

A vision of the two alone together in some dark dungeon of Hogwarts loomed in Harry's mind—his sweet-faced mother innocently stirring a bubbling cauldron, Snape hovering behind her like a great big bat.

Hagrid cast his eyes across his sun-dappled oak table. "Right here. I remember 'em grindin' up wyvern scales an' debatin' the need ter protect endangered magical creatures. The notion was novel at the time, but I liked it righ' away. Yer mum an' I hated the slaughterin' o' beasts. Sev'rus said it was necessary. Argumen' after argumen' they had—Sev'rus flingin' out bitin' sarcasm; Lily returnin' calm reason. In the end he came 'round—saw the wisdom o' not killin' the last unicorn. An' he still believes in preservation. Why jus' this mornin' he came ter ask if I'd found any chimera teeth that'd broken off. Needed one fer a special potion, he did, but wouldn' kill jus' fer a tooth."

Harry sunk low in his chair, afraid to look at the table. Somehow the image of Snape and his mother working side-by-side in the sunlight, arguing endangered animals while Hagrid looked on, disturbed him more than any of his previous speculations. When Ron and Hermione debated house elves, the electricity between them was undeniable.

Hastily, Hagrid rose from his chair and fussed around the table, gathering up the bowl-sized teacups, the tureen-sized sugar bowl and Harry's untouched slab of raisin cake. When Harry glanced at him, his friend looked away.

"Yer mum was smitten with yer dad—long before any o' that. Nothin' could o' swayed her. An' Sev'rus, well, yer mum wouldn't've been his type. She was Muggle-born, after all, an' a Gryffindor, an' definitely not his type. Guess yeh could say they were frien's. Sev'rus was really broken up when she died—but everyone who knew Lily fel' that way. I wep' buckets. No kin'er, gen'ler woman anywhere."

Snape really broken up over anything was not easy to picture. Instead of reassuring, Hagrid's explanations made Harry more uncomfortable still. Forcing a smile, he pushed back from the table. "Thanks for the tea and for introducing me to Waldo. I feel much more confident about leading him around at the fete." Even if he felt less confident about everything else.

Hagrid nodded vaguely. The look on his face said he was seeing ghosts—and wondering things about them he'd never wondered before.

Late that night, after every other Gryffindor had gone to bed, Harry quietly returned to the common room, clutching the wizard photograph album of his parents Hagrid had so thoughtfully put together for him at the end of his first year at Hogwarts. He set the leather-bound volume on the bearskin rug in front of the hearth, added some chunks of wood to the guttering fire, and lit a candle with his wand. Then he flopped down and opened the album.

He went through his parents' school years slowly, lingering on any picture that showed James and Lily together. The more time he spent gazing into those years gone by, the more at peace he felt. In photo after photo, his mom would shoot his dad a mischievous smile that expressed affection greater than words. His dad's answering wink would say that here was the girl of his dreams, and nothing would ever change that.

Stifling a yawn, Harry decided to look at one more picture, his favorite: his father zooming across the Quidditch field. The players' red and yellow robes identified this as the traditional last match of the season: Ravenclaw against Gryffindor. The crowd had gone wild. In the middle of the stands, friends and admirers jumped to their feet as James shot the Quaffle again and again through the Gryffindor hoops. Harry could pick out Remus Lupin waving excitedly and Sirius Black with his mouth open to scream victory. Even Peter Pettigrew was grinning and clapping, innocent of the tragedy he would one day create for the man on the broom.

And in the middle of the old gang stood James's biggest fan. Harry's mother-to-be was hugging herself, her face ecstatic as her eyes followed her sweetheart's every move. The portrait of happiness was so comforting that Harry gazed at it for several minutes.

Then another figure edged into view, one he'd not seen any of the previous times he'd looked at the photograph. Though twenty-five years younger, Severus Snape with his pale skin, long nose and unkempt hair was unmistakable. He cast a venomous scowl at James Potter grabbing the Quaffle ahead of one of the Ravenclaw Chasers. Then he turned.

Harry watched Snape's dark eyes pick Lily out of the crowd and saw his anger fade into an expression so desperate and desolate that he no longer looked like himself. A shiver ran across Harry's shoulders, and he slammed the album shut. He stared at the fireplace. Even the embers had died. Around him the shadows seemed to be closing in.

In this very room his parents and their friends had joked and chatted and dreamed of the future. Twenty-five years later, Remus scrounged for work far beneath his abilities; Sirius evaded Dementors because of a crime he hadn't committed; Peter cringed before Lord Voldemort; and James and Lily were dead. Of the people Harry had watched in the picture, Severus Snape had fared the best—secure as Potions master of Hogwarts. Yet instead of being contented, he let bitterness consume him.

What lay in store for his friends and him when they left school for the big wide world? Tonight, Harry couldn't bear to think about it.

Quickly, he scooped up his photograph album, anxious to return to his friends' comforting snores. He blew out the candle and held out his wand. "Lumos." By the faint light glowing at the tip, he made his way to the stairs, ignoring the darkness on either side.

"Ghosts," he whispered.

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