Chapter 36

REVELATIONS

Friday, Christmas Eve, Harry sat cross-legged on his dormitory rug, staring at the fireplace, willing Sirius to appear. Being stormbound all day, he'd had no chance for a quick spin around the Quidditch field or last minute shopping in Hogsmeade to speed up the time. Cho's book, an inkpot, stubbed quills, and a parchment marred by his rude attempts at transcribing Chinese spells lay strewn about him—his final stab at keeping his mind off his anxieties. Now that his godfather's arrival was imminent, he'd abandoned all pretense of interest in anything but answering his questions. He clasped his mother's sketchbook and waited.

Suddenly, the fire flared green and white. Sparks exploded from the center, shooting past the hearth and skittering across the flagstone floor. With an ominous rumble, the fire blazed purple. Slowly, a wizard in dark, swirling robes formed in its midst. But when the man stepped forward, Harry saw not his godfather Sirius Black but his nemesis, Severus Snape. And in his hand, gleamed a long, silver knife.

The dark eyes swept the untidy, fifth-year Gryffindor boys' dorm with distaste. When the disgruntled gaze centered on the room's one occupant, Harry jumped to his feet—at the same time hiding his mother's sketchbook behind his back. "Uh, sir?"

Snape gazed at him so steadily that Harry had the unreasonable fear that the professor might have Mad-Eye Moody's talent of seeing behind solid objects. But even a six-inch blade wouldn't make him give up his mother's pictures to the man who figured so disturbingly in them.

Just when Harry thought he'd never breathe again, the professor finally murmured, "Black is tardy. I should have expected it of him."

"Er, yes, sir. Tardy. But coming any moment now. Uh, sit down." He motioned with his chin to the least shabby of the room's chairs, not daring to move his hands from behind him.

Snape remained standing, his eyes narrowing as Harry backed towards his bed. "Potter. I may not be the master of this house, but I am a master of this school. As such, it's my duty to seize contraband wherever I find it."

Every muscle in Harry's body tightened as if he were clutching shock laurel. "Contraband? I have no contraband."

Snape's black eyes became utterly piercing. His knife glinted. "Behind your back. Hand over this instant whatever it is you're hiding behind your back."

Again, the fireplace seemed to erupt. Snape whirled around. Harry stared a moment at the yellow and orange flames dancing around two slowly emerging figures before he had the presence of mind to shoot his mother's sketchbook to the top of his wardrobe. Obligingly, Bête Noire draped himself over it. Harry turned back to see Remus and Sirius stroll into the room, engrossed in updating each other on what had happened since they'd last met.

Perturbed, Snape folded his arms in his sleeves and retreated to the opposite side of the room. When Sirius finally noticed, his browned, weather-beaten face mirrored the dislike on his long-time rival's pallid one. Glancing from one to the other, Remus rolled his eyes. Delighted to see his godfather at last, Harry sprang forward to hug him.

At once, Sirius's scowl became a grin. He hoisted Harry up under the armpits. "You've grown!" Then he panted from a mock backache. "My, how you've grown!"

When Harry at last drew back for a face-to-face inspection, he wished he could give Sirius the same reply he'd given Remus the Sunday before. But his godfather looked anything but healthy and wealthy. Unbelievably, he looked thinner and more ragged than when they'd last met. Harry was still examining him with concern, searching for something hopeful to say, when Snape's sarcastic whisper broke the silence.

"Don't let me impose on this tender reunion. When I get what I came for, I can be on my way."

Harry saw Sirius's jaw stiffen beneath his scraggly beard. "By all means." He stood his ground as his schoolboy enemy advanced on him.

Without warning, the knife flashed. Before Harry could even gasp, Snape held aloft a hank of black and gray hair. Curling his lip as if to block a rancid smell, the Potions master dropped the specimen into a leather pouch. He smiled at Sirius's consternation. "You do want a way back, don't you?" With that, he tossed a handful of glittering floo powder into the fire and strode after it.

When Snape was truly gone, Sirius growled, "I don't trust him."

"Don't be foolish," Remus answered. "He's your best hope."

A warning look from his old teacher kept Harry from asking just what that hope might be. Instead, he relieved his godfather of his meager backpack, fetched a basin of hot water to soak his callused feet, and trundled over a teacart of Christmas Eve goodies. Not until he'd heard every detail of Sirius's last months on the run did Harry finally bring himself to say, "By the way, I recently got hold of something you two might enjoy—a sketchbook of my mother's."

"Lily's drawings? That's marvelous." Remus leaned back, clearly ready to stay up another hour.

"I'd feared her pictures had all been lost." Sirius smiled. "Well, where are they?"

Harry twisted up out of his chair so his friends wouldn't see his grin turning to apprehension. His body felt numb as he pointed his wand at his wardrobe. With a doubtful mew, Bête Noire moved aside to let the volume whisk from under him. Swallowing hard, Harry caught the precious, dangerous book. Unable to trust his shaking hands, he passed it to his friends. He remained standing while Remus and Sirius thumbed through the pages, fondly reminiscing over the sketches. When at last they reached the fateful drawing, Harry saw their smiles freeze.

In an unnaturally calm voice, he managed, "That's Snape, isn't it?"

The two men stiffened. Then Sirius shot him a forced smile. "I believe it is."

Remus swept a hand across his forehead. "Harry. I know what it looks like. But you have to know—"

"Moony!" Sirius exclaimed. "Don't! It's not our secret to—"

"It's no secret," Harry blurted out. "I know. Already. You don't have to—"

"You know?" Sirius asked, obviously relieved. "So Albus finally told you?"

Remus sighed. "That's a load off."

"Of course, I know." Harry smiled weakly. "They were . . . close." His heart began to pound as he grasped at one last, desperate denial. "But she didn't love him. I know that much." My mother would never have deceived my father.

Sirius cocked his head, peering curiously at Harry. "If you know the truth, then you've got to know that Lily did love Severus. I hate to admit it, but from what I heard, she was devoted to him."

Devoted? Staring into Sirius's matter-of-fact black eyes, then Remus's puzzled brown ones, Harry felt his whole world shattering. His mother had loved someone not his father? In short, betrayed him with another man? And that man had been Severus Snape? Impossible. Unthinkable. But how could he contradict her friends' We-were-there authority? As these conclusions spun through Harry's brain, dizziness washed over him, and he collapsed into his chair.

Remus's face grew bewildered. "Harry, what's the matter? All Sirius said was that Lily loved Severus."

Sirius leaned forward to shake Harry's shoulders. "Snap out of it. Of course, Lily loved Severus. How else would you expect her to feel toward her brother?"

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