Chapter 30

PICTURES

Absent-mindedly grooming, feeding, and watering his house's griffin, Harry chided himself for not starting the discussion with Regis. Hagrid had repeatedly said that the fault for sending him lay with the Enchanted Preserve gamekeeper, but if he considered Willimar Avery's Hallowe'en letter and Snape's agreeing with his old friend's comment about the beast not being as fierce as they'd hoped, surely he'd recognize who had really misdirected his order. When Harry left to check on the hydra, he heard Waldo irritably pecking the gate behind him.

Trudging toward the Slytherin pen, Harry realized he was retracing the ground he'd raced over the day Regis had almost killed Professor Dumbledore. That memory sparked a host of others—flashes of danger, snatches of conversation, stabs of emotion. Suddenly, he clenched his fists in the air. "Yes!"

Raising his robes high above the muddy earth, Harry ran toward the hydra, counting on Millicent's claim about the fourth head's unusual ability. "Hey, fellows," he called out as he swung open the gate. "Remember me?"

All four heads turned toward him, tossing out four different versions of Season's Greetings—three in Parseltongue, one in English. The magical serpent slithered happily toward him, then nuzzled him in a manner not unlike Bête Noire's.

"Milly told us you'd visit," Demosthenes hissed.

"Set my mind at ease," Erichthonius added. "Can't depend on those other two."

Ted tilted his head. "Don't be so hard—at least, not on Draco. That chap was a lot more attentive this morning than I'd ever thought he'd be."

Draco was exactly the subject Harry was eager to discuss. "Quatre, you understand humans. The day you popped out, did you catch Snape haranguing Malfoy?"

Quatre snickered breathily. "Indeed, yes! Did the professor ever give that lad what for! Dressed him down one side and chewed him up the other."

Great! "And what was he giving him what for about? Wasn't Snape telling Malfoy not to mention the griffin to the Ministry because it might get him investigated?"

Quatre shook himself all over. "Not a bit of it. The professor told Draco to own up to his sniveling behavior without flinging blame on those who'd acted better than himself."

Uncertain he'd heard properly, Harry straightened his glasses. "Better? Who?"

"Milly, of course, and Cho, and Hagrid, and—" Quatre thrust his face an amiable hand's span from Harry's "—you."

Bewildered, Harry dropped back a step. "No. You must be wrong. Not in a million years would Snape have said that."

"Oh, yes, he did. He told Draco he'd never be his own man until he accepted some responsibility. It took a month for the message to sink in, but this morning Draco did everything Millicent showed him—even gave us an oiling."

The four-headed beast zigzagged proudly, showing off the gleam on its green-and-silver scales.

Harry was not convinced, but there was no arguing with a hydra. Even the three heads that hadn't understood the dialogue between Snape and Malfoy asserted their opinions. After twenty minutes of back-and-forth, requests for clarification, and insistence that Quatre's English must be faulty, Harry took his leave, back to the castle.

Casting about for an explanation, he recalled the lecture he'd overheard Lucius Malfoy give Draco in Knockturn Alley three years before. Malfoy had rebuked his son for not being as apt a pupil as Hermione—but that hadn't stopped the old Death Eater from scheming to drive all non-purebloods such as Hermione from Hogwarts. Snape's reprimand to Draco must have been along the same lines: Don't let the other houses show up Slytherin.

Tramping up the wide granite steps, Harry nearly bumped into Professor Flitwick peeking over an armful of books. Though the Charms master stood two steps above him, Harry's head was higher.

"Been to Hagrid's?" Flitwick's voice was as light and merry as a budgie's. "Hope the old boy was revising."

"Well, he took a break when I visited, but yes, he'd been going over his notes."

"I'm hoping he'll sit an O.W.L in Charms, but he'll need to know a lot more than Engorgio Cucurbitales Curcurbitaceae Cucurbita and Accio Feedbag."

Harry reached out to straighten a volume called Charms Around the World to prevent it from sliding off Flitwick's stack. "Don't worry. He's told me how grateful he is for this opportunity."

The Charms master beamed. "Severus's idea. The rest of us thought it splendid when he broached it, but nobody dreamed the Ministry would agree. Hagrid was the loudest naysayer of all. But Severus insisted. Said the injustice had gone on long enough, that the authorities could be made to see reason."

Harry stared down at the little Charms master. "Snape—Professor Snape was the one who proposed that Hagrid get a second chance?"

"Proposed it?" Flitwick tittered. "He composed it! Detail by detail, he reported what he'd learned about Hagrid working the jelly legs hex and talking Regis into standing down. When we all signed the petition, the Ministry just had to accept."

Harry clapped a hand over his open mouth. That noon when the Magical Companions class had stood dripping in the entry, he'd assumed Snape's The Ministry is considering my letter meant he'd complained about Hagrid's unauthorized use of magic. "You mean Professor Snape praised Hagrid for using his wand?"

"Extolled him! The Ministry has always winked at Hagrid's limited use around Hogwarts—engorging pumpkins, piloting feedbags, and the like. With irrefutable logic, Severus argued that anyone able to help save Albus using a broken wand on half an education ought to have the chance to obtain a new wand and complete the other half."

Long after Professor Flitwick chirruped his good-byes and trotted on to Hagrid's hut, Harry was still cupping his jaw, trying to work through this incongruous new picture.

By the time Harry wandered into the Great Hall for lunch, he still hadn't come up with what nefarious motive Snape could have for helping Hagrid. Instead, his friend's words echoed in his mind: I grew t'respect him—an' him me.

But that didn't explain Mad Regis.

Glancing around, Harry saw that so far, only a few students had shown up. Ariel Daine had enlisted all six of them to help pull the scattered place settings from the four rival houses into one, big, happy family at the High Table. Before she could whisk him into her sociable designs, Harry about-faced into the entryway—straight into a grimacing Professor McGonagall.

"By the looks of her," she muttered, "Severus is about to come out of hiding."

At her words, Harry felt like some dam broke loose, and all his anxieties came flooding out. "What about Professor Dumbledore? Do you have any idea where he is?"

McGonagall shot Harry a baffled glance. "Up in his office, of course."

"With Snape—Professor Snape?"

"Certainly. What of it?"

Harry sucked his breath in sharply. "Is that safe? I know you suspected Professor Snape at the Hallowe'en party. Then Regis nearly killed Professor Dumbledore. What about the Yule Ball? Professor Snape handled the cap. Couldn't he have—"

Without hesitation, McGonagall grasped Harry's shoulders and gave him a good shake. "Get hold of yourself. I suspect Severus? At Hallowe'en? Of what?"

Harry stared into his housemistress's dour gray eyes, desperate for an ally. "You did suspect him. I know you did. You said, He's up to something."

McGonagall's eyebrows shot high. "I was talking about that shenanigan he pulled with Slytherin's mascot for the St. Mungo's charity fete. What did you think I'd meant?"

"But his letter from Avery, Sr.—"

"Was permission to bring a hydra to Hogwarts. It's native to the Greek isles, and a Ministry permit is required to import one into Britain."

"But Avery—"

"Works in the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures."

"Yes, but he's also back with the Death Eaters. And he used to be Professor Snape's best friend. And—"

"Severus loathes him." Professor McGonagall gazed askance at Harry as if waiting for him to interrupt again. When he didn't, she continued. "Where you heard they'd once been mates, I can't fathom—but gossip will circulate. What you evidently don't know is that when he was at school, Severus's family had... a spot of money trouble. Being the kind of self-aggrandizing, self-serving scoundrel he is, Avery cut Severus off..."

Harry tried to look as if this information was news to him. Distracted, he peered back through the doors at Professor Daine gamboling about the Great Hall, flourishing her wand. Her cheerfulness just made him more impatient to convince his housemistress of Snape's guilt. Then McGonagall added a detail that snapped Harry back to attention.

"When the Dark Lord made Severus his favorite Potions master, Avery pretended they'd had a misunderstanding. When matters went the other way, he tried to persuade Severus he'd been under an Imperius Curse. Severus let him believe he'd succeeded. But do you think he ever forgave Avery for dropping him when they were schoolmates?" McGonagall's strict mouth curved fondly. "Nobody can hold a grudge like Severus."

Frowning into her matter-of-fact gray eyes, Harry had to admit the story rang true. "You're positive Avery's letter was about the hydra?"

"Undoubtedly. Severus asked the favor because cultivating that old tie is to our advantage. If, in the process, he could show up the rest of us—get Slytherin a mythological wonder that outdid our ordinary beasts—well, that was icing on his cake."

"But Avery apologized that the beast wasn't as fierce as they'd hoped, and Snape said his efforts were still appreciated. Couldn't they have been talking about..." When McGonagall eyed him quizzically, Harry let his voice trail off.

"Now where could you have heard that?" She shrugged. "Again, they plainly meant the hydra. Miss Bulstrode has shown me the beast. An endearing creature. Every time she gets it to bare its fangs, the next minute those four heads snuggle up for her approval."

Harry exhaled slowly. Not quite as fierce as they'd hoped. Chastened, he stared at his own feet. "So... Professor Snape had nothing to do with the griffin?"

"Obviously. You saw how put out he was when it arrived." McGonagall chuckled in remembrance. "Hagrid contacted the Enchanted Preserve on my behalf. So unless you're suggesting he or I—"

"No, of course, not." Looking up, Harry saw Ariel Daine glowing at them from the doorway. Under her breath, she was humming Ode to Joy.

Ten minutes later at the high table, Harry noted that Professor Daine was sighing, not humming, as she poked her fork at her turkey pastie.

A spoonful of mashed yams halfway to her mouth, McGonagall glanced at her fellow teacher. With an exasperated click of her tongue, she lowered her spoon. "Chin up. They can't stay there forever. Soon, they'll either succeed or give in."

His housemistress spoke softly, but since only a sullenly close-mouthed Slytherin and a bashfully quiet Hufflepuff separated them, Harry heard her clearly. He watched Daine force a smile to her lips, then turn her mild hazel eyes on the silent third-year boys.

"Cagliostro, Pip—did you know you were the only two kids last semester who really understood bugbears?"

Hastily, Harry focused his attention on his mushy peas. If he didn't appear occupied, she'd coax him into taking part in the hesitant conversation starting up between the two classmates. When he thought Daine wouldn't notice, he stole a glance at Madame Pomfrey's latest owl preening herself beside the headmaster's empty plate.

Then a chorus of greetings from the rest of the group switched Harry's attention to the doorway. Dumbledore ambled in, a sheepish smile on his face. The habitual serenity in the blue eyes made Harry relax for the first time in a day. Snape tramped after the headmaster, scowling. When his gaze met Ariel Daine's, his gloominess cleared a little. He shrugged and shook his head.

Nearing the table, Dumbledore told McGonagall, "An impasse, but never mind. Tonight, the expert is coming. He'll figure out what we're doing wrong."

At that assurance, Snape growled, "Muggle artifacts," then slumped down beside Daine. In a moment, the two were so engrossed conversing with each other that they might as well not have been present at all.

As Dumbledore passed, he bent close to Harry. "About that talk. I'm sorry I delayed it. But sometimes stories improve when you have time to reconsider them. After I sup, I'm taking a nice, long nap. But come by my office at ten for a late night snack. I'll leave word with the gargoyle. A surprise is coming I think you'll enjoy."

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