Hidden Memories
Chapter 8
Tuesday morning, Harry hurried out of the house so he wouldn't have time to contemplate the letters his mother had written Snape. Before he turned the corner at Grimmauld and Gramercy, Mortimer came swooping toward Harry, he was carrying a long envelope.
Harry took the letter from the tawny owl and pointed back toward number 12. "I've left the back window open for you."
Mortimer hooted and flapped his wings before pushing off of Harry's arm, his talons just barely knicking Harry as he took to flight.
Harry knew the Ministry's seal by now. He tore into the envelope. The black ink stood in glaring contrast to the heavy white paper.
Mr. Potter,
We are pleased to inform you that you have been selected for an interview with Kingsley Shacklebolt, the Minister of Magic. Please contact his assistant at your earliest convenience to schedule an appointment.
Congratulations,
Darnell Crowle
Office of Human Resources
Ministry of Magic
Harry was elated. He decided he'd make a trip to the Ministry this afternoon to make an appointment after he went to Gringotts about Snape's vault. But first, his growling belly reminded him, he needed breakfast.
Diagon Alley was quieter than usual, Harry thought, as he sat down in a booth for two at Donnelly's. Harry didn't mind eating alone but he couldn't help but wish that Ginny was there with him. He resolved to head out to the Burrow after he took care of all of his business in London.
A rather large waitress lumbered over to Harry's booth. "What're you having?"
"Uh, a glass of pumpkin juice, poached eggs and a muffin, please," Harry's smile was met with a scowl. The waitress clearly wanted to be anywhere but at work. Harry hoped that he wouldn't hate whatever job he ended up taking as much as the waitress clearly hated hers.
Harry looked around at the other diners. An elderly couple sat two booths down from him, enjoying tea. A goblin worked to finish his morning fare at the bar. The only other patron was a woman sitting in the back of the restaurant. Harry couldn't see her face at all because she was nose-deep in the Daily Prophet. Still, there was something oddly familiar about her glossy red nails and her high-heeled feet.
Just before she dropped the paper, Harry realized who the woman was. He groaned inwardly as his eyes locked with Rita Skeeter. He smiled politely then looked away, hoping she would take the clue that he didn't want to be bothered. Recalling that she was currently working on a biography of Snape, Harry considered leaving and grabbing breakfast elsewhere.
But when she rose and started walking toward him, he remained glued to his seat.
"Morning, Harry. Eating alone?" She asked as if it were somehow more revealing than it actually was.
"I have a lot of errands to run this morning, Miss Skeeter."
"Oh, I'm sure you have. But you wouldn't mind answering a few questions. . .in the interest of history, would you?" She reached for her notepad.
"I've never really been that interested in history, to be perfectly honest with you," Harry quipped.
The waitress returned with Harry's juice and looked annoyed at Skeeter.
The journalist oblivious to the waitress' agitation asked, "Could you bring my things over, I'll be joining Harry."
Harry opened his mouth to protest. He certainly hadn't asked her to sit, much less stay for breakfast.
"Ma'am," the waitress grumbled and went to get Skeeter's food and the personal items she'd left at the other table.
"Okay, Harry." Skeeter leaned in after she got everything situated just as she wanted it. "As you may know, I am writing a highly anticipated biography of one of your former teachers, Severus Snape."
"Yeah, I read something about that. I'm not sure how I can help you." Harry knew he could tell her enough to curl her toes but he wasn't about to reveal his mother's secrets to the sensationalist.
"Well, it would interest you to know, I'm sure, that it's rumored that your former teacher and Death Eater was also your mum's former boyfriend."
"Rumors, I'm sure," Harry lied.
"I have it on good account and from more than one source that Severus and Lily were quite the item in their fifth year at Hogwarts. Until they had a falling out. And if my sources are to be believed, they still held strong feelings for one another, even after her marriage to your father. Did Professor Snape ever discuss his feelings for LIly with you?"
"What? No."
"It's even rumored that you are perhaps their love child."
"This is ridiculous. I look like my father. Just like." Harry jumped from the booth. He startled the old couple and apologized before sitting back down. "Except my eyes, I have my mother's eyes." Harry added.
"As I said, it is only a rumor. A bit testy, though, about it, aren't you?"
"Look, I know what you do. You take people's words and twist them into some sordid affair. Severus Snape was the bravest man I ever knew and I don't like the idea of you making a mockery out of his memory.
"Hmmm, that's interesting," Rita Skeeter looked at her quill, which was scratching furiously along the notepad. "Would you say that Snape was like a father to you?"
"No. What? He was my teacher."
Skeeter decided to try another angle. "But he was a Death Eater. A close confidant of the Dark Lord."
"When he was young, he followed Voldemort for a brief time. But after that, he was a loyal supporter of Dumbledore and fought for good."
"What do you think prompted his about-face? Could it have been the death of his beloved at the hands of his master?"
"Go! Leave! Out of my booth," Skeeter had hit too close to the truth for Harry's liking.
"Rude," Skeeter had the nerve to look offended, but she got up nonetheless. She left her virtually untouched food sitting on her side of the table and left the restaurant. Harry looked at the wasted food and hoped she'd be starving later in the day. But then he realized that she could probably survive on gossip alone.
Harry was even glad to see the waitress' surly face when she brought out his food. Anything was an improvement of Skeeter's mug.
Harry was still so upset as he walked toward Gringotts that he bumped right into a man. He mumbled an apology without looking up but then turned around when the man called after him, "Harry."
The man was Neville Longbottom. When had he gotten so tall? Had they all become adults without thinking? To Harry's pleasant surprise, Neville was accompanied by another Hogwart's alum, Luna Lovegood. Harry noticed they were holding hands.
"Neville, Luna, good to see you."
"Everything okay, Harry?" Neville's brow furrowed making him look thirty instead of seventeen.
"Ran into Rita Skeeter. Put me in a foul mood."
"Your mum?" Luna got straight to the point. Neville looked as if he wanted to crawl into a corner.
He knew he was in the minority, but Harry always appreciated Luna's directness. He nodded. "It's none of her business how Snape felt about my mother."
"I don't think it's really Snape's feelings that are bothering you, Harry." That time Luna's directness was a little pointed even for Harry's tastes.
"Well, you two have a lovely outing." Harry nodded and continued on his way to Gringotts.
He could hear Luna and Neville behind him.
"Luna, you shouldn't have. It's his mum."
"He's gotta face the truth, hasn't he? It's gonna be everywhere once Skeeter is finished."
"Still," Neville stated.
Harry was glad when they turned the corner.
Picking up his pace, Harry did his best to focus on thoughts of spending the afternoon with Ginny and putting his mum out of his head.
"Harry, Harry," George Weasley called from his storefront.
"Oh hi, George."
"Where are you in such as hurry to get to?"
"Business at Gringotts" Harry called but didn't stop. He didn't even care if he was being rude anymore. He was beginning to welcome the solitude that being in the vault would bring.
"Here, Mate, Cheer up!" George tossed Harry a chocolate frog.
Harry started to tear into the package but then eyed it suspiciously. Knowing George, it was probably some sort of exploding gag. Probably filled with real frog guts or something.
He rolled his eyes and dropped it into his bag. He didn't feel like a joke at the moment.
Gringotts was as lively as ever. Harry had to wait six deep in queue before a goblin was able to help him down to his vault.
"Name's Golster, pleasure meeting you, Mr. Potter," the Goblin bowed dramatically. Harry got the distinct feeling that it wasn't a pleasure at all. In fact, he noticed all the employees were eyeing him suspiciously. But, he supposed after the incident with the dragon, he wasn't exactly their favorite customer. "Are you here to access your private vault, today?"
"No, actually, I am here about this," Harry handed Golster the letter informing that he had inherited Snape's vault. .
"I see, I see. You'll need to head over to account management. It's down that hallway just opposite of us. Room 117, would you like me to escort you?"
"No, that won't be necessary. " Harry took the letter back, pocketed it, and bowed a farewell to Golster. He could hear the goblin tellers whispering behind him as he headed to the accounts office.
Two other customers were waiting ahead of Harry, a middle-aged wizard and an extremely old witch. Harry took the open end of the couch that the witch was sitting on. After a beat and a double-take the blue-haired lady whispered, "My word, you're Harry Potter."
Harry's face had been plastered over the Daily Prophet so much lately that he should've been used to people knowing him on sight, but he wasn't.
"Yes, Ma'am," Harry smiled at the witch.
"Knew your folks, I did," The little witch edged closer to Harry.
"You did?"
"Oh, yes, I used to run The Three Broomsticks in Hogsmeade, well, surely you've been to The Three Broomsticks."
"Yes,"
"Your father and his friends used to hang out there quite a bit. And after your mum and he started seeing each other, in their seventh year, if I remember, she came in and had a few butterbeers, herself."
"I don't remember them much, were they very much in love?" Harry asked.
"Oh, your father adored her. The other boys used to rib him about it quite a bit." The old witch's eyes twinkled at the memory of the inn full of mischievous wizards.
"And my mum, was she crazy about him? He was quite popular."
"Well, I didn't know her quite as well, dear. I only remember her in there a handful of times before she started going with your dad. She was always with the Snape boy. They didn't linger." The woman's twinkling eyes turned dark.
"Because of my father?" Harry knew why Snape wouldn't have stayed, James Potter would have tormented him.
"I'm sure James thought it was all in fun. But he took it too far, sometimes."
"How so?"
"Well, it irked him to see your mum with the Snape boy. One afternoon, Lily and the boy had come in after James and his mates had been there a couple of hours, just long enough to be bored. The Snape boy provided a diversion. When your mother turned your father down for the winter dance because she was going with Severus Snape, your father challenge the boy to a duel. Lily forbade it, protesting that it was archaic and sexist. But the boy refused to back down and out came their wands. It was the only time I'd ever seen anyone best James at anything. I believe the boy would have killed him had Voldemort not stepped in."
"Voldemort?"
"Yes, he'd been having lunch after an appointment at Hogwarts. . ."
"Ma'am, Hothgar can see you, now." A rather tall goblin offered the witch a hand.
"Oh well, another time, Dear." She called to Harry before heading into Hothgar's office.
Harry's head pounded. So, Voldemort had saved his father from Snape. But why? Why wouldn't he have let Snape kill his hated enemy? Was Snape already under Voldemort's tutelage? Was that their first meeting? Had Voldemort seen something dark in Snape that reminded him of himself? Or was he afraid that if Snape acted so rashly with Voldemort in close proximity that their association would have been known? A million different answers to a billion different questions bombarding Harry's mind.
He kept his eye trained on Hothgar's door. He wanted to get the witch's name and to set aside a time to visit her.
"Mr. Potter, Stute is ready for you." The goblin pointed down the opposite hallway to 117D. Harry looked back at 117A, where the witch had disappeared.
"The witch, the one you took back a second ago. What was her name?"
"Confidential," the goblin replied. Then mumbled something about not flouting rules even for the great Harry Potter.
"Can you give her a message for me?" Harry tried a different tactic.
"Do I look like your house elf? Really?" The goblin shook his head, clearly disgusted with Harry. "Stute," he called as he craned his neck around the door. "Mr. Potter."
"Ahhhhh, quite the celebrity. Do come in Potter," Stute gestured to the seat opposite his desk. "You are here about vault 8, I imagine?"
"Is that Severus Snape's vault?"
"Yes, his lawyer informed us of the inheritance. All the paperwork should be in order, I just need your signature, here." He pointed his spindly finger at the line.
Harry scribbled quickly. He wanted to get back to the witch.
"Do you have the key? Mr. Snape's copy?"
Harry pulled out the key ring. He wasn't sure if it was there. He looked at the keys looking for one that looked similar to his own vault key. "This one maybe?"
"Ahh, yes, that's it. Now, we need to change the palm print signature. It's a high security vault, you see. Much like Bellatrix Lestrange's vault. I'm sure you remember it."
Harry blushed. "Yes, of course, we can go down but I wanted to speak with the little witch who's in with Hothgar."
"We can always make an appointment for you to come back and change the palm print. Unless, of course, you don't intend on keeping the vault."
"Well, how much is the rental?"
"Six times over what you're paying for the other vault."
Harry's eyes nearly popped out of their sockets. Just how much gold was Snape sitting on?"
"Well, that's quite lofty. Perhaps I should have a look at the contents before I decide."
"Very well. I can call someone to accompany you now."
"Fine, thank you. I'll wait for them just out here."
When Harry returned to the waiting area, he noticed that 117 A was wide open. He walked over slowly and peeked inside. A short, fat female goblin sat behind a desk. "Can I help you?" She gawked at Harry in shock that someone could be so uncouth.
"The witch that was just here?"
"Has gone, Mr. Potter."
"Er- -do you perchance know where I can find her?"
"Mr. Potter!" She huffed.
"Mr. Potter," Golster had returned. "I've been asked to accompany you to number 8. I hope you are as good on a broom as you are a dragon," he said humorlessly.
It had actually taken less time to reach the lower vaults on the brooms than it had on the old track. Harry considered telling Golster that he thought it was quite an improvement. But the green look on the goblin's face told Harry that Golster wasn't fond of flying at all. Harry wondered if that was a trait common to goblins.
They stood in front of the vault. "Your key?"
Harry handed Golster the key and waited for the goblin to insert that bank's copy. "Now give it a minute, They are temporarily overriding the biosignature."
No sooner had Golster finished speaking than the vault cranked open.
"In you go," the goblin waited outside.
Harry had expected the golden glow that he'd seen in his own vault and that of Lestrange's. But there was no great riches, no family heirlooms. In fact, there was only a single object in the room. A small ebony wood box, just big enough for a pair of trainers.
Harry moved forward. As he got closer he noticed the delicate woodwork. He didn't know much about antiques or furniture but he would've bet that the piece was one of a kind, something Snape had had commissioned. It didn't surprise him then, to find that there was a white lily carved beautifully into the lid.
Harry went down to his knees in front of the box. He reached out but then hesitated. If this was the only thing in the expensive vault, then surely Snape had protected it with all sorts of spells and charms.
Harry touched the wood tentatively. No shocks or burning. So far, so good," he thought and then fingered the latch. It gave. Harry lifted the lid, where he found another lid. Harry tried to pull the second lid open but it wouldn't move. He grabbed his wand. "Alohomora."
White wispy letter rose from the box, they danced in the air, then spelled. "Clever." But the second lid was still secure.
Harry pointed his wand again. "Reveal your secrets."
"On whose authority?" The smoky words danced out of the box.
Harry thought about it. What would Snape use as a passcode? It hit him. Harry deepened his voice and spoke in short clipped notes, "By command of the Half-Blood Prince."
The smoke poofed then reformed into new words, "A test then."
"Go on," Harry replied.
"What sayeth the Half-Blood Prince to his enemies?" the letters shimmered in the air.
Harry didn't know why but it came to him easily. "Sectumsempra."
The letters vanished and new smoke rose from the box. "Who commandeth the Half-Blood Prince?"
Harry scratched his head. The answer depended entirely on when Snape had put the security measure in place. It could be either Voldemort or Dumbledore. Harry wondered what would happen if he answered incorrectly.
"Well?" The words moved before his eyes.
Harry decided to try something that at least sounded like something Snape might say. "The Half-Blood Prince answers only to his own conscience."
"Yes," the words formed, "that is true."
Harry exhaled sharply.
More words lifted out of the box. Harry wondered how many questions he have to answer.
"Who is the only love of the Half-Blood Prince?"
"Lily," Harry blurted.
The words vanished then popped into the air in all caps. "HER ROYAL TITLE!"
Royal title? What the hell was the box talking about? Had Snape had another love that he hadn't known about? Harry tried to think of any other woman who might have been mentioned in relation to Snape. He wished Hermione was with him. She was really good at remembering the most obscure references. He thought about the Death Eaters. Voldemort had called himself the Dark Lord. Snape had ordained himself the Half-Blood Prince. Would he have assigned Lily a royal moniker? Probably. But what?
"Waiting?" The words blared in bold in front of him.
A thought occurred to him. It was the only thing he had. It was worth a try. "The only love of the Half-Blood Prince is the MudBlood Princess."
The lock clicked and the hinge opened on its own revealing four graduated trays of black velvet. Each tray held seven small bottles in recessed grooves. Harry had seen similar bottles in Dumbledore's office. He was going to need a pensieve.