Hidden Memories
Chapter 2
A buzzard took to the air as two loud cracks carried across the dirty river. Harry checked quickly to make sure all of Ron had apparated successfully. Ron looked back at Harry, clearly annoyed.
"I'm okay, Mate. Will you quit doing that? I haven't had an incident in over a month."
"Sorry," Harry turned his attention to the carcass the buzzard had abandoned. The bones were nearly picked clean, it was impossible to tell what creature had suffered such a fate. The ripped dark pelt wasn't even much of an indicator as covered in blood and bile as it was.
"Ewww," Ron said disgustedly when he saw what had captured Harry's eye. "So, Snape lived 'round here?"
"Yeah, about a half-mile away," Harry pointed to the older, grimier part of town. But he looked to the newer part of town on the other side of the river and knew that his mum had grown up there. He wondered if his grandparents were buried in the local cemetery. But he hadn't come he for that, he reminded himself. He'd come to settle things with Snape's estate. "Let's go," Harry nudged Ron forward.
By foot, they reached Spinner's End in under ten minutes, Ron grumbling half the way that they should have apparated closer. For his part, Harry had enjoyed the walk. Even if the river was muddy and swirled with eddies of filth, he felt a certain nearness to his mother that he just couldn't explain.
A tall, gaunt, black haired figure stood on the stoop of the final unit of a row of dilapidated houses. He held a thin leather briefcase.
"Mr. Potter? Raleigh Hargreaves, a pleasure." The man extended a slender hand.
Harry knew that Hargreaves was a Squib. Mr. Weasley had recommended him to Harry.
"Mr. Hargreaves, thank you for coming on short notice. This is Ron, Ron Weasley."
"Ah, Arthur's youngest boy?" Hargreaves' black eyes surveyed Ron.
"Yes, Sir," Ron offered his hand
After the pleasantries were out of the way, Hargreaves went right into business. "The house will go up tomorrow. But as I told you when we spoke over the phone, this isn't the best neighborhood. I wouldn't expect a buyer right away. And, of course, as you can see. It isn't going to bring much."
"Yes, well. As I stated, it was an inheritance. I'm not looking to turn a profit or anything."
"Very well. I have the paperwork for you to sign. Should we go inside?" Hargreaves obviously wasn't accustomed to doing business on the street.
"Yes, of course," Harry pulled the large key ring from his jean pocket.
Hargreaves looked at the front of the denim trousers with curiosity. The pockets hardly seemed large enough to have contained such a large amount of keys. His curiosity soon turned to envy. His brother had inherited all of the magical blood in their family. He smiled as Harry checked the key ring trying to figure which one would work the front door. Ron, however, noticed that Hargreaves' smile didn't meet his eyes.
The first key Harry settled on didn't open the door. Nor did the second or third. The fourth try was finally successful.
"Severus Snape was the previous owner?" Hargreaves asked.
"That's right," Harry nodded and waved away the dust that fell over them as they pushed open the door.
Ron sneezed as some of the renegade soot flew up his nose.
"Bless you," Harry and Hargreaves called simultaneously.
Ron responded by nodding and pulling a handkerchief from his pocket.
Stepping over the threshold, Harry wished he'd thought to bring a jacket. The house was unnaturally cold and dark.
"Wasn't Snape a professor at Hogwarts?" Hargreaves asked as he watched Harry pull out his wand and call Lumos. The tip of his wand lit the foyer.
"He was," Harry rasped.
Ron wondered what had caused Harry's throat to catch then he saw the coat rack. One of Snape's spare cloaks hung there as if waiting for him to come home.
"I'd heard he was a Death Eater." Hargreaves whispered as he took in the austere surroundings.
A folly of youth, Harry could almost hear Snape respond.
"We all make mistakes, not many of us bother to correct them," Harry philosophized.
Ron raised his eyebrows shocked at Harry's response. He was still getting used to Harry defending Snape.
They continued down the hallway. Faint light spilled from the sitting room window onto the hardwood floor. Harry turned into the room and cast a quick spell which sparked flames in the fireplace.
"Ah, thank you, much better," Hargreaves cheered. He sat down in an old armchair, sat his briefcase on his lap, and started retrieving papers. Harry and Ron sat on the couch opposite the realtor. As he sorted through the necessary files, Harry watched the flames in the fireplace behind dance from orange to blue and back to orange.
"Here we go," Hargreaves produced the papers and placed them atop the rickety table that sat between the men. He pulled a pen from his vest pocket and handed it to Harry. "I have all the areas you need to sign designated with those little flags. If it's circled you only need to initial."
'I see," Harry began looking over the documents.
"Wonder if there's anything to drink in there," Ron got up and padded into the nearby kitchen.
Surveying the wall to wall bookshelves, Hargreaves commented, "You probably have a fortune here in books."
Harry looked up from the forms and found Hargreaves reading the titles on the books shelved nearest him.
"Would you like me to arrange an auction? These books would bring a large sum." Hargreaves ran his finger along the spine of a book bound in ancient brown leather.
"Yeah, Hermione would give her first born for a room like this." Ron returned with a bottle and three glasses. He's right, though. There's a lot of wizards and witches that'd pay a pretty knut to get their paws on some of these books."
"No, but thank you, Mr. Hargreaves." Harry answered then turned to Ron. "What have you found?"
"Not sure, but looks promising," Ron popped the cork and poured each of them a glass full of rose-red wine.
Harry took an investigatory sniff befor he sipped. "Mmm, very good actually."
Hargreaves pulled a book from the shelf and read the title, Enemies Beware: When Defensive Spells Aren't Enough. Harry didn't have to guess why Snape would have read such a book. An image of his father tormenting Snape as a teenager ripped through his mind. Blue flames fighting the orange ones in the fireplace again cleared Harry's mind of the haunting memories to which he had no right.
"Mr. Hargreaves. Can we delay the listing of the house until Monday. I'd actually like to take some time to look these papers over." Harry asked.
"Well, I'm sure you'll find everything in order, Mr. Potter." Hargreaves replied a bit defensively.
"Oh, I am certain that I will. I just need a little time. I'm sure you understand." Harry stood and walked over to Hargreaves and held out his hand for the realtor to give him the book he'd pulled from the shelf.
Hargreaves seemed to realize that Harry was dismissing him for he handed Harry the book then closed his briefcase and stood up. He brushed his hands down the front of his jacket smoothing it then bowed. "I can show myself out."
"Nonsense," Harry motioned that Hargreaves should walk ahead of him to the front door.
When Harry returned, Ron was pouring himself a second glass of the wine. "Blimey, Harry what was that all about? You went from zero to dementor in less than three seconds."
"Doesn't matter," Harry took a sip of his wine and sat down with Ron.
"You aren't having second thoughts are you?"
"No. Maybe. I don't know. There was something covetous in the way he looked at all these books." Harry shrugged his shoulders.
"Well, like I said before, there are a lot of folks that'd want to get. . ."
"Yeah, but he's a Squib."
"Since when has that bothered you?" Ron was confused.
"It's not that. It's. . .well, we don't know exactly what kind of books Snape has here. We'd need to go through them. There may be some Dark Arts stuff that we don't getting into the wrong hands."
"Voldemort is dead Harry. Gone."
"I know. But all of his supporters aren't," Harry reminded.
"Sure, but how strong are they, really? Without him, they're nothing. Where do you reckon the loo is?" Ron lit his wand with a nonverbal spell and headed back down the hallway.
Harry looked at the book that he'd taken from Hargreaves. He carefully opened the old tome. Scratched at the top of the title page in Slytherin green ink were the words: This book belongs to the Half-Blood Prince. Harry flipped to the Table of Contents and began reading the chapter headings. "Disfigure," "Maim," and "Permanently Scar" were just some of the delightful titles. Harry wondered why Snape had never used one of the curses on his father, James.
Harry considered if Hogwarts might take the books. He could donate them to the library. Snape would appreciate that, wouldn't he? But then he realized he'd still have to find a way to store or dispose of any Dark Arts books that the school wouldn't take. He knew from first hand experience how difficult it could be to find a Dark Arts book when you needed it at Hogwarts. He wondered if there was a book on Horcruxes on the shelves.
Harry scanned through a few more pages. When he reached page 242, he found a folded, yellowed piece of parchment between the leaves. He heard the toilet flush down the hallway as he carefully unfolded the paper.
SSSSSSS
Sev,
I heard what happened. I came by your house but no one answered. I thought I saw your curtains move. Don't shut me out. I am here for you. My mum saw your mum at the market. She said she looked pretty out of sorts. And bruised. Are you okay? Please meet me tonight. Our spot. I'll bring a blanket. I'll be there til midnight.
Worried about you,
Lily
SSSSSSS
"Harry, Harry, hey Mate, you okay?" Ron stood in front of Harry snapping his fingers.
Blue flames shooting up the chimney startled the both of them. Ron jumped. "Blimey, the Floo Network Authority needs to send somebody out to give that thing a look."
"Huh? Oh yeah, the fire. Been acting funny."
'Whatcha got there?"
"A letter to Snape." Harry's stomach twisted, his mind turned. What had she meant by "our spot" and "bring a blanket"? Had his mum and Snape been romantically involved. Was there more to the story that Snape's affections for his mother? Had she been in love with Snape with Sev? Was she with him before she was with his father? Thoughts skittered through his head like Aragog's children scurrying across the floor of the Forbidden Forest.
"Who's it from?" Ron asked.
"Doesn't matter." Harry slipped the letter back into the book and tucked the book under his arm. We should get back to Grimmauld Place. Don't want to keep Hermione waiting."
"She's taking her N.E.W.T.s ."
"What? But Hogwarts already gave us all our degrees."
"Yes, but you know Hermione. She said she couldn't accept it without knowing she truly deserved it. So McGonagall set up a testing session just for her."
"Well. . . we should. . .um. . .go help your mum de-gnome the yard."
"Are you insane?" Ron looked at Harry like he'd turned into Luna Lovegood.
"Nope, let's just get going, okay," Harry ushered Ron toward the exit. He turned to extinguish the blazing orange fire.
"You're not going to sell this place, are you? Harry didn't like the accusatory tone Ron was taking or the fact that his friend was right.