A/N: I can't believe it took me almost a month to write this chapter. In my defence, it's a really long chapter, with a lot of scenes and arguments, stressfully time-constrained due to parallel events already described, and written from a completely new and unexpected POV (I'm sorry for that, I know I promised several Snape chapters in a row, but this chapter just didn't want to be Snape).
Thank you for all the reviews, your encouragement and feedback is really helpful so please keep them coming!
PS. Next chapter we finally get to the Sorting ;)
Chapter 16
The door of the Infirmary burst open before him in what was probably more a display of accidental magic than a wandless feat to brag of. Relief washed over him when the two people he desperately needed appeared in his line of sight, although he was still too panicked for that relief to have any calming effect.
His Head of House had been sitting with his face buried in his hands, his posture so dejected while Madam Pomfrey seemed to be comforting him that Benjamin's first wild thought was that he must be already grieving the kid in his arms. That did nothing to reassure him, and neither did the expression in Professor Snape's face when, upon relaxing his reflexive duelling stance, he laid eyes on the actual kid and desolating pain seemed to distort his every feature.
"Professor!" cried Benjamin as he breached the remaining distance carrying Malfoy's dead weight. "He still had a pulse a minute ago, but he stopped responding in the carriage, I don't know if he's breathing!"
Quickly recovering from the shock, the Professor met him halfway and carefully took the kid from his arms, his expression now ferociously focused.
"I thought he was fine," tried to explain Benjamin, "but then he passed out again and we couldn't wake him-"
"Lay him down on that bed," instructed Madam Pomfrey, summoning potions as she rushed after her patient. "What happened, Mr. Grant?"
"I think I broke a rib or two, maybe the fragments punctured the heart, or the lungs, or he might have brain damage for lack of oxygen, I don't know how long he had been dead before I-"
"Benjamin! Calm down and explain what happened," snapped Professor Snape without taking his eyes off the Malfoy Heir, who looked white as a corpse and probably was one. Madam Pomfrey was casting one spell after another while the Professor force-fed potions into the kid, but there were no signs of life, it was too late- "Benjamin! Focus! What happened?"
"They beat him up in Hogsmeade, sir, and they choked him to death. One of the boys had a knife, but I couldn't find any wounds so I don't think he got stabbed, the blood is from the broken nose. I fixed the nose. He has a broken arm too, but I didn't dare fixing that. I... he wasn't breathing when I got there, and he didn't have a pulse either so I started CPR, but it was no good, it didn't work-"
"Clearly it worked, Mr. Grant, seeing that the boy is alive," said Madam Pomfrey. "You did well."
Unspeakable relief washed over Benjamin.
"It wasn't the CPR, though," he said weakly. "That wasn't working, so I sort of breathed magic into him to resuscitate him-"
"You did WHAT?"
Benjamin recoiled from his Head of House. The Professor had turned to face him with the most livid expression he had ever subjected him too. What really petrified Benjamin, though, more than the furious look and the sharp tone, was the smell of alcohol in Professor Snape's breath. The man had been drinking, and he was angry, so angry, and far more dangerous than the most vicious Muggle-
"What exactly did you do, Benjamin?"
"I..." he swallowed. "I'm not sure, sir. I just didn't want him to die, and I thought he just needed some magic to jerk him up, you know, like an electric shock. It didn't come out that way, though, I don't know what-"
"YOU DON'T EVEN KNOW WHAT YOU DID?"
"Severus!" called Madam Pomfrey urgently. "The boy is bleeding internally, I need your assistance. You can yell at Mr. Grant later."
The Professor's nostrils were flaring like an angry bull's, and he seemed reluctant to tear his incensed eyes from him, but tending to injured students held precedence over scolding reckless pupils so he finally turned around and focused his full attention back on the medical emergency.
Benjamin ran a hand through his hair, feeling himself shake head to feet as panic and guilt rose inside him again. Resuscitating the kid was the one thing he had been sure he had done right tonight, but it seemed like that had been wrong too. Had he caused damage with his magic? Should he have kept up the CPR until Hagrid came back with help instead of doing what he had done? Had he only saved the boy briefly and made harder for Madam Pomfrey to heal him?
"I can assist too, sir," he said desperately. "Just tell me what to do, I want to help-"
"You can help by removing yourself from my presence," said the Professor harshly while he poured yet another potion down Malfoy's throat. "Wait outside."
"Please, sir-"
"OUT, MR. GRANT!"
Benjamin all but ran out of the Infirmary. Professor Snape never yelled at him, and aside from public settings that required a formal address he only called him by his last name when he was trying to put distance between them. Knowing that his Head of House couldn't even tolerate his proximity at the moment was too much to bear just when he most needed reassurance and support, and further knowing that the Professor wasn't yet aware of the entire collection of Benjamin's mistakes tonight only sank him deeper in his ocean of dread and loss.
He definitely wasn't in the right state of mind to be faced with Edwards the moment he stepped into the hallway.
"Grant! Professor McGonagall is going to inform Dumbledore, but she said Snape will most likely handle it. He's supposed to be in..." she trailed off when she saw his face. "Oh, God, is Malfoy...?"
"He's alive," he said hollowly. "I don't know if he will make it, though."
Her eyes full of horror and concern were too much for him deal with, so he turned away and went to sit on one of the chairs lined outside the Infirmary. Edwards had brought with her the two little murderers, he saw, but he couldn't muster any anger towards them at the moment, not when they looked so subdued sitting together with heads low in apparent remorse. Terrible as their actions had been, Benjamin understood that they had been moved mostly by fear, and by a wish for independence and freedom of action that he could very much relate to. It had been stupid, since Lucius Malfoy would have discovered what they had done and exacted revenge on their families even if they had succeeded on killing the kid, but some part of Benjamin couldn't help giving them credit for trying.
Not many had the guts to rebel against Malfoy's oppressive yoke.
Besides, it sounded like the Malfoy brat had deserved it. Benjamin only gave a damn about the kid because he knew Professor Snape cared about him, and he feared not to be forgiven if that particular student died because of his negligence. Personally, he was more haunted by the thought that it could have been either of the other kids instead, particularly Longbottom. Then he could not have forgiven himself.
He leaned forward in his chair and buried his head in his hands. Less than a day as Head Boy, and he had already sullied the badge and disappointed his Head of House. He had made the Professor angrier than he had ever seen him. Hagrid would complain and accuse him to the Headmaster, no doubt, and McGonagall would speak against him too when she heard. Benjamin hadn't even wanted to be made Head Boy to begin with, so he didn't care if he lost his badge over this, but it would be a disgrace for Slytherin, and Professor Snape would never recommend him for anything again.
What he really feared, though, was what would happen if the Malfoy kid died. In his rage, Lucius Malfoy no doubt would demand the incident be thoroughly investigated, and he would use his extensive influence to ensure every last person with even the slightest amount of guilt suffered for his loss. Heads would roll, people would be sacked, lives would be ruined. Benjamin would lose his patronage, to start with, and he might lose much more if in his anger Professor Snape washed his hands off him instead of helping him. Dumbledore would not protect him, not without demanding something in return, pledges and sacrifices that, knowing that the Dark Lord would return someday, Benjamin shuddered to contemplate. He actually feared more what Dumbledore might do if Professor Snape withdrew his protection than what Lucius Malfoy might do, and he feared even more what the Professor himself might do if he came to hate him. If someone held the power to completely destroy him, it was definitely his Head of House, who knew his every secret and weakness and had plenty weapons to use against him.
He didn't notice when Edwards sat down next to him, so he startled at the sound of her voice so close to him.
"You did everything you could, Grant," she said softly, placing a gentle hand on his arm. He stiffened. "Even if he doesn't make it, at least you'll know you tried your best. And you did bring him back. It was incredible what you did."
Benjamin could feel his skin burning under her touch. Despite the multiple layers of fabric protecting him, it was like making direct contact with a bare wire that insisted on sending relentless waves of electricity through his entire body, rousing him, warming him, threatening to melt all his defences...
He stood up abruptly and moved to stand on the other side of the corridor. Damn her. Benjamin had never been much affected by Edwards, whose annoying personality made relatively easy to ignore her female attributes, but he was having trouble remaining unaffected by her gentleness. It was a soft side of her that he had not seen before, and he was quickly realizing that he was more in danger of succumbing to it than he would be of succumbing to the sight of her naked body.
"Oh, I'm so sorry," drawled Edwards coldly. "I didn't mean to befoul you with my filthy mudblood hands. Such a shame you will have to burn those brand new robes."
Her spiteful tone was like a bucket of ice water thrown at his chest. Quite effective to cool off whatever warmth he might have felt, and to harden any tenderness she might have fostered in him. Benjamin knew it was for the better, that he should promote her spite and forestall any friendliness between them, but the part of him that longed for kind words and gentle caresses couldn't help wishing she had responded differently to his rejection.
"And here I thought you were different," she went on in a contemptuous tone. "But you're just like all the others. And an hypocrite to boot, since you're a half-blood. What will your nasty Slytherin friends say when they hear you can do CPR like the best of Muggles?"
"What will your muggle-loving friends say when they hear that you can't perform CPR while a nasty Slytherin can?" He scoffed. "You're so proud of being a Muggle-born, but I bet you wouldn't pass a Muggle test in any subject. You must embarrass your parents at every turn with your ignorance."
Benjamin could tell by Edwards' expression and high colour that he had struck too close to home.
"At least I would use what I know to help anyone in need, not just the precious heirs of rich purebloods," she spat, recovering from the blow and stalking towards him like a fury. "Hagrid was right, wasn't he? You knew where they were, but you didn't say anything, you covered for Malfoy because you thought he would be the one doing the beating!"
"You're being ridiculous, and you insult me by suggesting I would knowingly let any student come to harm!"
"You insult me by believing me a fool! I know you wouldn't have gone to such extreme to save the kid if it had been a random Muggle-born instead of a wealthy little snake!"
"You know nothing about me!" he snarled, moving to loom over her. "Nothing! You just assume that because I'm a Slytherin and my father was a Death Eater I must be evil. And you have the nerve to be offended when someone judges you for your blood and background? You are the fucking hypocrite! And you flatter yourself if you think the only reason someone would not want to touch you is because you're a filthy Mudblood!"
"Mr. Grant!" thundered a voice across the hallway. "I believe I told you never to use that word!"
"It's just a stupid word!" exclaimed Benjamin turning to face his Head of House, who was scowling at him from the Infirmary door. "And Edwards used it on herself first, why can't I-"
"It is still unacceptable language," cut him off the Professor sharply. "Especially coming from the Head Boy and Girl, and within hearing of first year students. The example you both are setting for Messrs Crabbe and Goyle is appalling!"
Benjamin very much doubted Crabbe and Goyle Jr. were unfamiliar with the word 'Mudblood', and he had no compunction about using foul language within hearing of the two little murderers, but being reminded of the boys' presence by his disappointed Head of House suddenly brought much more serious concerns to his mind. He anxiously scrutinized Professor Snape's face, trying to ascertain just how bad things were, but while there were plenty visual clues to analyze he wasn't sure how to interpret the overall expression. There was stern disapproval, of course, because of his squabble with Edwards, and some suspicion. He could also see the smouldering embers of the terrible anger the Professor had displayed before in the Infirmary, and a more sober displeasure that promised unending retributions. Did that mean that Malfoy was dead?
"Sir, is the kid all right?" inquired Edwards, wiping her eyes as she stepped away from him. Benjamin felt a pang of guilt at the realization that he had made her cry, even as he felt vindictively pleased by it.
"Mr. Malfoy is out of danger," informed them Professor Snape, "he will make a full recovery. Apparently Mr. Grant's valiant efforts saved his life."
Someone like Edwards might be able to interpret such words as praise, but Benjamin could hear the censure and insult in them —the Professor was practically calling him a bloody Gryffindor, and that was not something deserving of praise. Malfoy was alive, though, and it sounded like Professor Snape was willing to focus on that so Benjamin couldn't be less than profoundly relieved. He knew he could expect a lecture in the near future, and he could already see himself writing thousands of lines about Gryffindor stupidity, but after so much fretting about life-ruining consequences he would welcome such minor penalties. As long as his Head of House still cared enough to lecture him, everything would be fine. And Benjamin could tell that Professor Snape still cared, even if he was angry.
Perhaps he had just reacted so strongly before because he had been stressed-out and drunk, not quite himself.
"Yes," said Edwards in response to some question he didn't hear, "Professor McGonagall said she would inform him, and that she would be discreet about it. Grant told Hagrid to keep it quiet too, at least until the Headmaster decides how to handle it, but I don't know how quiet can it be kept if Malfoy isn't present at the Sorting."
"At least no one saw Malfoy beaten up," cut in Benjamin. "Except for the students involved in the incident. Two of them went with Hagrid, but he agreed to keep them quiet."
"I'm not sure if Roberts will stay silent, though," said Edwards with a frown. "He gave me an attitude when I tried to take his bag, glared at me like I had no business telling him what to do. Hagrid said the boy was just in shock, but he didn't look too affected to me, and no doubt he will want everyone to know what happened to Malfoy."
Benjamin frowned too. He wasn't sure what to think about Roberts. There had been something suspicious about that kid, something in his behaviour and story that hadn't added up, not to mention the fact that he wasn't in the list. Benjamin had spent half the trip up to the castle struggling with the persistent gut-feeling that he should have brought that boy along too, and hearing Edwards express a similar impression made him fear again that it had been a mistake to leave him with Hagrid.
"Roberts?" asked Professor Snape with a frown on his own. "Was he one of the aggressors?"
"No, but he was there with Longbottom," said Edwards. "He quarrelled with Malfoy-"
"Longbottom? This was done by the Longbottom boy?"
Benjamin was about to respond when the two little murderers suddenly stood up and stepped forward with obvious purpose. Knowing that Professor Snape was generally more merciful towards students who admitted their crimes on their own volition, he let them to it, hoping for their sakes that they would not make the mistake of lying. Edwards seemed to be of the same mind, because she watched in silence too as the boys walked across the hallway towards their only hope of protection.
Instead of coming to a stop in front of their prospective Head of House, however, the two kids casually circumvented him and marched straight into the Infirmary.
"You two, come back here," snapped the Professor over his shoulder. "Mr. Malfoy cannot receive visits yet." He waited for the kids to come rushing out at his command, but they didn't. "Crabbe! Goyle! Out here, now!
Benjamin should have suspected immediately what they were about, but whatever Professor Snape might said his Slytherin mind did not jump immediately to daringly stupid courses of action so it took him way too long to consider the ridiculous possibility. Edwards was more used to deal with dumb children, but she was also more naive, so realization came even slower to her, or perhaps she didn't realize at all until Benjamin called out a warning and launched himself forward in a panic.
Professor Snape, on his part, was a hardened Death Eater who didn't take well people yelling murder and running head-on towards him with wands raised, and he was also a Head of House operating under the misconception that all the students inside the Infirmary were innocent and worth protecting, so his first instinct was to pull his own wand and plant himself solidly in the doorway, refusing to let him pass until Benjamin had put down his wand and explained what madness had come over him. Such explanation was hard to articulate in his state of agitation, and Edwards adding her own hysterical voice to the mix only served to make Professor Snape more inclined to shut them up than hear them out.
By the time they all burst into the Infirmary, the murderous kids had already reached Malfoy's bed and were in the process of smothering the convalescent boy with a pillow.
The scene wasn't nearly as ghastly as it had been the one in the forest, but Benjamin must have exhausted his coping capacity because he couldn't bring himself to do more than stare in stunned incredulity. Or perhaps it was just that with Professor Snape around to take care of things he could afford to go into shock like his system had been threatening to do since Hogsmeade. It certainly was a relief to be able to stand back and passively watch while the Professor neutralized both kids, vanished the murder pillow, and rushed to check if Malfoy was still breathing. Madam Pomfrey, too, had come running from her office in response to all the noise, and they both were qualified enough to run St. Mungos' Emergency Ward so Benjamin's desperate skills were not required.
"Goodness! What in Merlin's name happened here?" exclaimed a voice behind them. "Why are those boys lying on the floor?"
Glancing back, Benjamin saw McGonagall standing wide-eyed in the doorway, but when he tried to explain no words came out of his mouth.
"They tried to kill him, Professor," said Edwards. She sounded as shaken and incredulous as he felt. "Again."
"Again? You mean here in the Infirmary? Why were they left alone with-"
The words died in her lips when the very ground under their feet and everything around them suddenly trembled in the most ominous way. It only lasted a moment, but the shuddering vibration shook Benjamin to the core, an inexplicable fear of exposure overwhelming him and making him feel the urge to apparate away. They all stood still and silent when it passed, waiting, but as seconds ticked by without the walls crumbling nor anything terrible happening Benjamin's galloping heart began to slow down and the others visibly relaxed as well.
It was Professor Snape who broke the silence.
"Minerva, are the first years already inside the castle?"
"No," she replied gravely. "There seems to have been some further delay. They were half-way across the lake five minutes ago, according to Dumbledore, still far away. You think they're in danger?"
"They should be safe in the boats, as long as the wards hold. But someone capable of shaking the Anti-Apparition ward will have no trouble bringing down all the others."
"It stopped, though, and surely no one would dare such a thing with Dumbledore so close!"
"That is precisely the point," said the Professor looking at McGonagall meaningfully. "It must be a distraction, to draw Dumbledore away. We know what they want, and who-"
He was interrupted by the sudden descent through the ceiling of a silver phoenix that spoke with the Headmaster's voice:
"Great Hall. Now."
"What they want is here, and the real threat is Quirrell," continued Professor Snape, waving dismissively at the Patronus as if it were an annoying fly. "So go back to the Great Hall-"
"Dumbledore requested you," pointed out McGonagall. "And it sounded urgent, Severus, you must-"
"I have other things to do. You and Filius can handle Quirrell if Dumbledore leaves."
"This might have nothing to do with Quirinus. He might need you for something else-"
"If he really needs me, he can come fetch me himself, tell him I will be in the Third Floor."
"The Third Floor?" McGonagall's eyes widened. "Severus, what are you-?"
"There's no time for arguing, just go! If you meet Quirrell along the way, stun him on sight!"
McGonagall looked at Professor Snape as though she thought he should be knocked out of his madness, but she rushed out of the Infirmary without arguing further. The Professor strode towards the doors too, but stopped when he nearly stumbled with one of the little murderers and ran a hand through his hair as he surveyed the mess he was leaving behind.
"You two," he said after a brief deliberation, turning his authoritative gaze towards Benjamin, "move Crabbe and Goyle to the Health classroom across the hallway, and stay with them. Don't let them out of your sight, and don't let them talk to each other, keep them separate and under watch. Poppy, don't leave Draco's bedside for any reason!"
And then he was gone too.
It took Benjamin long seconds to snap out of his useless shock and run after him.
"Wait, Professor!" he called as he struggled to catch up with his Head of House, who had already reached the end of the corridor by the time Benjamin exited the Infirmary. He didn't understand most of what was going on, but one thing was clear to him: Hogwarts was under attack. And he had a good idea of what they might be looking for. "Wait, sir, there's something you need to know!"
The Professor reluctantly slowed to a stop and waited impatiently for him to deliver his report.
"Sir, Harry Potter wasn't on the train," said Benjamin breathlessly when he finally reached him. "Hagrid said he's not coming-"
"I know."
"You do? Then why-?"
"If that is all, Mr. Grant, I have pressing matters to attend to."
Benjamin felt all his fears and insecurities rush back into him at the cold dismissal.
"I... Where are you going, sir?"
Professor Snape turned away and resumed his brisk pace.
"Go back to the infirmary, Mr. Grant," he said over his shoulder. "I left two murderous students in your hands, in case you have forgotten, and you shall be made responsible for anything they do!"
"Edwards can watch them," argued Benjamin, rushing to keep up with his ill-tempered Head of House. "I'd rather go with you. Whatever is going on, I want to help, especially if it's about Harry Potter-"
"This has nothing to do with Harry Potter."
"What else could they be looking for? Is that why he's not coming? Dumbledore must have known this was going to happen..." Benjamin was hit by a sudden realization. "The boy is already here, isn't he? He came directly by Floo or Apparition? Is that where we're going?"
The Professor swirled around so abruptly that Benjamin almost collided with him.
"We are not going anywhere," he snapped, poking him hard in the chest with a long finger. "You are going back to the Infirmary, where you will stay until I return."
"But I want to help, sir-"
"You can help by making sure no one else tries to kill Lucius' son."
"Harry Potter is far more important! And you might need help protecting him-"
"This has nothing to do with Harry Potter!" roared his Head of House again. "Even if it did, I would not drag a student into a potentially lethal situation!"
"I'm not just any student! I'm the Head Boy, and I can defend myself, you know I can!"
"You will go back to the Infirmary, Mr. Grant, and you better be there when I return or you will be in serious trouble!" Benjamin opened his mouth to protest, "ENOUGH, Benjamin! You will go back! DO NOT FOLLOW!"
Benjamin didn't dare following after that, but it was hard to stay behind, especially after hearing that his caretaker was walking alone 'into a potentially lethal situation'. He knew that his Head of House was tough, a survivor too stubborn to die, so it was probably stupid to fear for him, but the thought of Professor Snape dying anytime soon was so terrifying... Benjamin didn't think he could cope with that.
He was also anxious for himself, and mortified, because not only he had managed to make the Professor even more angry than he had already been, he knew that he had behaved like a wilful brat. He wanted his Head of House to take him seriously, and he knew he never would if he behaved like that, but he just... Argh! It annoyed him to be still treated like a child that had to be shielded, to be left behind instead of brought along as backup. If he wanted to risk his life for some cause, why shouldn't he? At his age, Professor Snape had already been fighting battles as a Death Eater, and while Benjamin didn't approve of the side he had chosen he did envy the freedom of choice he had had, the opportunities he had been given to prove his worth, the liberty to practice whatever magic struck his fancy. If someone should understand the itch for action, the willingness to fight for a worthy cause, it should be the Professor, and yet he never let Benjamin do anything! Everything was limits and restrictions with him, warnings and safety rules, endless cautions and lectures.
It made absolutely no sense to resent Professor Snape's strict protection after having fretted so much about losing it, but sometimes Benjamin couldn't help feeling resentful for all the things he wasn't allowed to do.
Although perhaps what truly irritated him in this particular case was the whole Harry Potter business.
The Professor had sent him an owl last week with instructions for the eventual case of Harry Potter being sorted into Slytherin, so clearly he had expected the boy to come to Hogwarts. He admittedly hadn't said in the letter that the famous kid would be coming by train, but he hadn't said he wouldn't either, so Benjamin had spent the entire day fruitlessly looking for Harry Potter in every compartment, growing more and more worried with each passing hour of conspicuous absence. And now it turned out the Professor had known all along that the boy wasn't coming on the train? Why the hell hadn't he told him? And why would he lie now?
Because he must be lying. It couldn't be a simple coincidence that someone was attacking the castle on the very day Harry Potter was supposed to come to Hogwarts. Plenty of nasty people had spent the last decade brooding, speculating, waiting for an opportunity to harm or kidnap the Boy-Who-Lived, and today would have been the first time the kid was exposed since the end of the war. Even if there hadn't been any particular threat, it would have made sense to keep Harry Potter hidden a few more years, away from dangerous influences, murderous students and DADA teachers, but Benjamin didn't think Dumbledore would ever be allowed to make that choice. Both the Ministry and the public opinion would insist that Harry Potter must be educated in Hogwarts, and going against that might result in a trial for custody —a trial that Dumbledore would most likely lose—, so it couldn't be true that the boy wasn't coming. He must have simply come by Floo, to avoid the exposure of the Hogwarts Express, or he might have been escorted by the Headmaster himself earlier in the day. Benjamin would bet anything that the kid was somewhere in the Third Floor right now, probably under attack, and yet the Professor had denied it and refused to let him help.
He was a boiling tangle of resentment and worry by the time he dragged himself back to the Infirmary, his mood definitely not the best to engage in yet another confrontation with Edwards.
"Grant!" she yelled, emerging from the Health classroom and stalking towards him with a very McGonagallish expression on her face. "Professor Snape said we were both to watch Crabbe and Goyle. You left me alone with them!"
"If you can't handle two first years on your own I have to wonder how you passed your DADA OWL," drawled Benjamin derisively.
"They're being difficult," she snapped. "I had to stick them to their chairs the moment they regained movement to keep them from running away!"
"Well, at least your Charms OWL is deserved. Although I wouldn't trust your Sticking Charms to hold for more than a minute, so you should go back to watch them."
Edwards threw him a blistering look.
"We should go back to watch them," she corrected.
"I have no desire to be near you more than absolutely necessary. My nose is too sensitive to filth, and you stink."
Benjamin had expected his words to provoke a fiery outburst, so he was surprized when instead Edwards took a deep breath and made a visible effort to drop her belligerent attitude.
"I..." she took another deep breath and continued in an apologetic tone. "I'm sorry for what I said before. I shouldn't have suggested that you would let any students come to harm. I know you wouldn't." Edwards paused and looked at him expectantly, as if waiting for him to reciprocate with an apology of his own. He said nothing, so she sighed and went on, "We're going to have to spend a lot of time together this year, Grant, we should at least try to be civil to each other. I think we could even be friends, if we tried."
She held up a hand to him, offering a truce and a smile. Damn her.
It took an unnatural effort to gather enough scorn for a convincing sneer, but Benjamin forced himself to sneer at her.
"I wouldn't touch your skin even wearing dragon-hide gloves," he said eyeing her hand with distaste. "And I won't pretend to be friends with someone I despise. Now, if you're done playing the Hufflepuff, go back to watch the murderous kids and stay with them like Professor Snape said. I will be in the Infirmary."
He turned his back to her as he spoke, not wanting to see her eyes blazing with anger nor shinning with tears. Not wanting to risk neither her contempt nor her compassion.
Benjamin bitterly hoped she would keep her distance from now on, because he didn't trust himself not to fuck her if she touched him again. And Professor Snape would not be pleased if he did.
It had been less than ten minutes since he had last been in the Infirmary, but somehow it felt like an hour. Just like it felt like days since he had been pumping Malfoy's chest with little to no hope of saving the kid. Watching the blond boy now, healthy-looking and peaceful in his sleep, Benjamin still couldn't quite believe he was alive, and he couldn't shake off the fear that he would stop breathing again at any moment.
"Mr. Malfoy is going to be fine," tried to reassure him Madam Pomfrey. "The last attempt didn't cause any damage."
"What about... what about what I did?" whispered Benjamin, his stomach clenching with dread. "Did I cause damage? Was it my fault that he almost died again?"
"As far as I can tell, the only effect of whatever you did was to bring Mr. Malfoy back to life, which is most definitely a good thing."
"But the internal bleeding... was it because of the CPR? Was I too rough? Did the broken ribs puncture-"
"There were no broken ribs, just some bruising. The bleeding was caused by the beating, not by the CPR. You did nothing wrong, Mr. Grant, on the contrary."
Benjamin was not convinced.
"Professor Snape was so angry..."
Madam Pomfrey sighed.
"Professor Snape was not at his best tonight. He was having a bad day even before you arrived carrying Mr. Malfoy's mangled body, and then seeing a child he has known since he was a baby so gravely hurt, and hearing from you that the boy had been dead and that you brought him back in such a reckless way... His anger was actually fear, Mr. Grant. His reaction wasn't very rational, being so obvious at plain sight that your actions had had no ill-effect, but people are seldom rational when they are afraid."
Benjamin mulled over her words in silence. He knew that Professor Snape could overreact when someone gave him a fright. He had seen him rage at students that caused dangerous explosions in class, or at players that pulled reckless stunts while flying, and he knew that underneath the anger there was concern for their safety. It didn't sit well with him to be yelled at because the Professor was afraid for someone else, though, not if it was true that Benjamin hadn't done anything wrong. Even if he had done wrong, if he had recklessly re-killed the kid instead of saving him... Years under his care had led him to expect his Head of House to be on his side even then, to protect him and accept him even if he killed someone —accidentally or not—, but tonight's reaction had made him realize that that would depend on who that someone was.
It wasn't something he liked to think about, but on some level it had always bothered him to know that if Professor Snape ever had a son he would care more about him than about Benjamin. It would be only natural, reasonable. Despite his duty as a Head of House, the Professor would put his own child first, like a father should, and he would get irrationally angry at anyone who hurt him or messed with him in any way, relegating any other student to a second place. Benjamin had been half-comforted by the knowledge that Professor Snape was fully committed to his job and didn't seem likely to ever marry, as well as by his conviction that even as a Death Eater the Professor would have been too conscientious to sire a bastard, but he had always dreaded that displacement, and tonight he had gotten his first taste of it.
His lip curled involuntarily as he watched the sleeping boy. He would have despised the brat just for who he was —Lucius Malfoy's self-important son, and already a scornful piece of shit at eleven years old—, but the fact that he was also Professor Snape's godson made him hate his pureblood guts. And it tormented him to know that he was to blame for his survival. Benjamin could have so easily let him die... there would have been hell to pay for it, yes, but there would be hell to pay anyway for the incident, and perhaps letting the Malfoy Heir die would have been the right thing to do. Kids like Draco Malfoy polluted Slytherin House, and they could only grow up to be nasty politicians or Death Eaters, the sort of people that supported corrupted ministers or dark lords. They didn't deserve Professor Snape's protection, and they were unworthy of his care, and yet Benjamin would have to watch the little prick prance about as the new best favourite while he got unfairly yelled at every time the Professor got drunk.
He was nursing his resentment again, and half-wishing the kid would die after all, when the door of the Infirmary suddenly opened and his Head of House strolled back in. It seemed like only a few minutes ago that they had been shouting at each other, and it plainly hadn't been time enough for the Professor to calm down because he didn't look any less angry. Benjamin flinched under his hard gaze, his resentment instantly replaced by apprehension that turned to hurt when his guardian pointedly looked away and proceeded to ignore him completely.
"How is Draco?" asked the Professor as he hurriedly made his way towards the boy's bed, the anger in his eyes replaced by concern. Benjamin felt a stab of jealously, but the emotion was drowned by worry when he noticed his Head of House was injured.
"Goodness, Severus, what happened?" exclaimed Madam Pomfrey. "You're hurt!"
"I'm fine," said the Professor dismissively. "Is Draco all right?"
"Yes, yes, but let me see your leg, sit over here-"
"It's just a shallow wound, nothing serious-"
"Nothing serious? You're limping and bleeding! Did that beast bit you?"
"It barely grazed me. Has Draco been awake?"
"For all we know a simple gash could be lethal! What if it's venomous? Sit. God, what was Dumbledore thinking, keeping that thing inside the castle? And what were you thinking, going up there?"
Under different circumstances, Benjamin would have been amused by Madam Pomfrey's attempt to examine Professor Snape's leg against his will, and more so by Professor Snape's eventual capitulation to her fussing, but the idea that his Head of House might have been lethally wounded by some creature made impossible to find the situation anything less than mortally serious. He definitely wasn't amused when Madam Pomfrey finally persuaded the Professor of lifting his robes over his knees, exposing a 'barely grazed' mangled leg that looked as though it had been chewed by a werewolf.
He was pretty sure that Professor Snape would have already chopped off his leg if it had been a werewolf, though, and besides the moon had been full not so long ago so it must be waning now. That was a huge relief, but only partial, since there were many other creatures whose bites could be lethal or infectious in some other way, and at this point it was probably too late to keep any inoculated substance from reaching the heart.
"Just clean it and bind it up, Poppy," growled the Professor when she worriedly informed him that the wound was proving to be resistant to magic. "No, no Dittany. Did you check Draco's brain function?"
"Mr. Malfoy's brain is fine. You should take an antivenom, Severus, just in case..."
"Broad-spectre antivenoms don't cover anything Greek, and I don't have time to brew-"
Crack.
"Professor Snape!" squeaked a house-elf that had just materialized amongst them. "The Headmaster is wanting you in the Great Hall immediately!"
"Tell him I'm busy."
"The Headmaster says Professor Snape is to return to his seat and stay there," insisted the elf urgently.
"I will go when I finish my business here."
"But sir-"
"Where is the Headmaster?" cut her off the Professor.
"He is in the Great Hall, sir, but he-"
"And the DADA teacher?"
"Professor Quirrell is also in the Great Hall, sir."
"And the first years? Have they arrived?"
"Not yet, sir. We is all waiting, but the castle is hesitating."
"Hesitating? What do you mean?"
"The castle is afraid, sir. But you must hurry! The Headmaster-"
"Silence!" Professor Snape closed his eyes and rubbed his temples, his forehead creased in concentration as if he were trying to figure out a nonsensical puzzle. "All right," he said at last, shaking his head and focusing his eyes again on the creature. "You, elf, go back to the Headmaster and tell him to put off the Sorting Ceremony for as long as he can. Come to inform me at once when the first years arrive."
"But sir-"
"Do not argue with me," snapped the Professor. "Go, now!"
Judging by the elf's obvious distress, Dumbledore must have ordered her to pester her target until he promised to go back to the Great Hall, so she would have to punish herself if she abandoned her mission. All elves were aware that Professor Snape could punish them far worse than anything they could do to themselves, however, so they tended to obey him better than the Headmaster, and this case was no exception.
"Poppy," said the Professor when the poor creature had popped away, "wake Draco up and get him dressed-"
"The boy is not ready to be released," she objected, "he needs rest and time to fully recover."
"He can rest later-"
"Surely Mr. Malfoy's sorting can wait until tomorrow!"
"If he can walk and sit under a hat, he's getting sorted tonight," said Professor Snape with finality. "Wake him up."
Madam Pomfrey pursed her lips in disapproval, but she didn't argue any further and, after making sure the mangled leg was properly bandaged, went to prepare the necessary potions to counteract Malfoy's sedation.
"Sir," dared to say Benjamin, unable to hold his tongue any longer. He needed to know what was going on. "What is happening? Are we under attack or not? Is Quirrell-?"
"Not now, Benjamin," said the Professor as he pulled down his torn robes and fixed them with a flick of his wand.
"Is Harry Potter safe, at least?"
"I said not now! And I told you this has nothing to do with Harry Potter!"
Benjamin felt like a five year old again, being yelled at by his drunken stepfather. He could no longer smell the alcohol in Professor Snape's breath, but the olfactory memory was still fresh, and the shouting too disturbingly familiar. The big difference was that his Head of House immediately seemed to regret his outburst and tried to calm himself by pinching his nose and taking several deep breaths. And of course the Professor would never hurt him... Benjamin was fairly certain of that.
"I'm not sure what is happening, Benjamin, or if there is anything happening at all," said the man after a tense pause, his voice strained. "The castle is unsettled, but not necessarily under attack. It might be just reacting to something or someone inside."
"Like Harry Potter?"
"Harry Potter is not in the castle. He is not coming to Hogwarts, that is all you need to know for now. The rest of the first years are coming, however, if with delay, and if at all possible we need to keep from them and from the rest of the school what happened to Draco."
Benjamin nodded, feeling some of his anxiety beginning to ease. It still annoyed him not to be trusted with the Harry Potter secret, but at least the Professor was talking somewhat normally to him again.
"All the first years know that something happened, though," he said, "and they know that Malfoy and his supposed friends were taken directly to the castle. They must have seen Longbottom crying, too, and Roberts... I don't trust that kid. He was one of the victims, but I don't think he's completely innocent."
"Roberts..." murmured Professor Snape. "He's not in the list of Muggle-borns."
It would normally not surprize Benjamin that the Professor couldn't recognize the name of a first year that hadn't been sorted yet —he, like Benjamin, only memorized the list of Muggle-borns—, but in this case he was surprized. And confused. Because if the Professor knew that Harry Potter wasn't coming, shouldn't he know too all about the boy that had been admitted in Harry Potter's place?
Before he could point out that Roberts wasn't in the list at all, however, he was distracted by Malfoy's coughing, and by the rush of conflicting emotions that sound triggered in him. The first and main one, despite darker considerations, was relief, overwhelming gratefulness for all the propitious turns of luck that had spared him from an alternative reality where he was staring at the tiny corpse of a child instead of hearing him cough.
Perhaps the Malfoy brat had deserved to die, perhaps his death would have been for the better in many ways, but Benjamin wouldn't have wanted to carry the burden of that decision.
And it was hard to hate the kid when he looked like just a kid. When it wasn't the snobbish Malfoy Heir crying for his mum but just a frightened child.
Much harder it was to watch the boy clinging to Professor Snape's robes while he cried, and to watch Professor Snape rubbing comforting circles on the kid's back while he murmured soothing words of reassurance. Basic human compassion demanded a child so distraught to be comforted, so Benjamin couldn't reasonably object to the natural gesture, but it was painfully hard to watch. Because the Professor had never comforted him that way. There had been plenty of times over the years when Benjamin had craved for such comfort, when he had broken down in Professor Snape's office and wished he didn't have to cry alone, but the Professor had always kept him at arm's length, offering advice rather than comfort with a desk always in between them.
Because Benjamin was just a student, while Draco Malfoy was plainly more than that.
"Shh, it's all right, Draco," murmured the Professor soothingly, "you're safe. I will not let anyone hurt you again."
"They turned on me," sniffed the boy. "Vince and Greg... they turned on me, they- they-"
"Shh, I know. It will be fine, Draco."
"They hit me, Uncle, they... Vince hit me... he broke my arm, he- he tried to kill me! And Greg... he said he was going to cut my guts out and send them to Father."
Professor Snape's eyes darkened, his jaw clenching with barely restrained anger.
"They won't hurt you again, Draco," he vowed. "Vincent and Gregory will likely be expelled, but if they aren't I will make sure they stay away from you. And you will make new friends."
"No I won't!" wailed the brat. "He said he would turn against me any other friends I tried to make, like he turned Vince and Greg. He said I would never be safe, that I could never trust anyone!"
The Professor frowned in confusion and pulled away to look the boy in the face. Benjamin also felt confused, but he had an ugly feeling that he knew whom Malfoy was talking about.
"What do you mean, Draco?" asked Professor Snape seriously. "Who said that to you?"
"That boy. Evan something. He refused to say his last name, but-"
"The last name is Roberts," interjected Benjamin, berating himself again for not having brought that suspicious kid directly to the castle. "Evan Roberts. He's one of the kids involved in the incident, sir."
"Who is this Roberts you keep mentioning? What do you know of him?"
"He's Rosier's bastard, Uncle," spat Malfoy, sounding more like his true nasty self. "He must have gotten the last name from his filthy mother, some muggle slut Rosier slept with before he died."
The Professor had been frowning thoughtfully, but he raised both his eyebrows at that.
"Rosier? Did he claim so?"
"No, he didn't admit it, but he didn't deny it either, and he's a Metamorphmagus-"
"A Metamorphmagus?"
"Yes, I saw him change his hair from brown to red just by thinking. He was showing off, saying he was a better wizard. He called me a Squib! Me, a Squib! He said I had no real power, and he talked as if his blood were better than mine and having a good name didn't matter. He mocked me, Uncle, said I was ordinary like a Muggle, taunted me, threatened me... He stole my wand and threatened to break it, Uncle, my wand!"
Benjamin's head was swirling. Goosebumps prickled along his arms, a sickening sensation in the pit of his stomach. He had suspected Roberts wasn't entirely innocent, and he had noticed certain inconsistencies between his story and Longbottom's, but this... how could he have missed all this?
"He... he told me not to tell. He'll hurt me..."
When Longbottom had said that, Benjamin had first assumed it had been Malfoy who had threatened him. Later he had thought it must have been Crabbe or Goyle instead. But it had been Roberts, now he was certain.
"He's not my friend."
"He lied," he said with a shudder. "Roberts said that Malfoy had threatened to take and break his wand. He said that he intended to run for help, but that wasn't true. He threatened to hurt Longbottom if he told us where they were, and we would have been too late if the boy hadn't told us anyway. He almost didn't, so scared he was..." Benjamin ran a hand through his hair, feeling suddenly afraid for Longbottom, who had been left behind with Roberts. "I thought his story was suspicious, but Crabbe and Goyle told the same story, they claimed all the blame and made Roberts sound like the victim."
"He isn't!" spat Malfoy angrily. "That psycho was out to get me since the train, he stalked my compartment and stole my wand somehow, and then made Vince and Greg beat me up in the woods! And he said he had tortured and killed people before, his family. He said he would come back to torture me if I disobeyed, but then he changed his mind and told Vince to kill me!"
Benjamin noticed that Malfoy was conveniently leaving out the part about how he had bullied Longbottom and ordered his friends to beat up the boy. He was painting himself as the undeserving victim, Roberts as the sole instigator of tonight's lurid events, Crabbe and Goyle as unconscionable traitors. It made Benjamin furious to see the little bully getting away with it, basking in Professor Snape's comfort and support, and he wanted nothing more than to expose him, make the Professor see what sort of person his unworthy godson truly was, but to his frustration he couldn't say anything in front of the kid. He couldn't share his certainty that Malfoy had threatened all the other boys and their families, pushing them to desperate actions, nor could he express his concern over Longbottom, lest Lucius Malfoy questioned his allegiance later.
Oh, how he hated all those bloody purists. And not just the purebloods. Half-bloods like Roberts were just as bad, thinking themselves better because of their connection to some old lineage when it was actually their muggle blood what made them more powerful; hating purebloods while wanting to be just like them, the same elitist mentallity twisting their every thought. The world would be a better place without all that highborn trash, just as it would be better without most Muggles-
Realizing that he was giving in to darkness, Benjamin pushed away his toxic thoughts and focused his attention again on Professor Snape, who was rubbing his mouth and mulling over the Roberts problem with an extremely grave expression on his face. What was he thinking? Could the kid truly be Rosier's bastard? If someone would know whether such possibility was likely, it would be the Professor, who had been familiarized with the sexual inclinations of all his fellow Death Eaters.
Even if Evan Roberts wasn't Rosier's blood, if the boy truly was a Metamorphmagus then he must be connected to the Blacks in some other way —he might be an actual Black bastard, some by-blow left behind by that maniac Sirius Black. And if a mysterious descendant from a powerful old lineage was conspiring with Crabbe and Goyle against Malfoy, there might be a bigger conspiracy going on...
"We need to secure Roberts urgently," said the Professor at last, turning to Benjamin and giving him the look that he reserved for seriously screwed-up Slytherins. "The boy might try to run away, however, since the murder attempt failed and he knows Draco will be able to testify against him. He might change appearances, if he's a Metamorphmagus, and he might try to take another student's place in the Sorting, so his not stepping forward when his name is read doesn't necessarily mean he's not there. Draco-"
"Are we sure his name will be read?" interrupted Benjamin. "I mean, he's not in Hagrid's list, and you didn't know about him, are we sure he's a real-"
His Head of House jerked his head back fast as a whip, his eyes wide and wild as if he had been struck with some terrible realization.
"Roberts is not in the list?" he asked sharply. "Are you certain?"
"That's what Hagrid said. We assumed his list hadn't been updated, but..."
The Professor breached the distance between them in two long strides and placed his hands on each side of his head.
"Benjamin," he said urgently. "I need you to show me."
Benjamin's heart accelerated, his stomach tightened in panic. The Professor was very close now, and he had his head in a vice-like grip, his dark eyes were boring into his.
"I..." he swallowed nervously. "I don't..."
"I need to see Evan Roberts, Benjamin. Show me."
It sounded like an order, but the fact that his mind hadn't been invaded yet meant that it was a request. Optional. Professor Snape had given him his word once that he would never do it without permission, and Benjamin trusted him to keep his word, so if he said no he knew the Professor would stay out. And he didn't want him inside his head, not now. But he could see that this was important, extremely so, that it was taking Professor Snape all his self-restrain not to force his way in to extract the information he needed, so after a brief hesitation he swallowed again and, bracing himself, he nodded his consent.
He had known it would be bad. On any other day, sharing one specific image with his Head of House would have been a simple, harmless task, but in his current mental state the process felt like the equivalent of gruesome brain surgery. His Occlumency was in tatters, not having practiced in over two months and having lost all resemblance of internal order somewhere between his first and second emotional shock of the evening. To make things more difficult, the image Professor Snape wanted was located right in the middle of one of his worst memories to date, closely connected to Malfoy, his murderous friends, Edwards, Longbottom and the mystery of Harry Potter. And to make it even worse, Benjamin was currently conflicted about the Professor himself, so his presence inside his mind inevitably triggered countless memories and issues associated to his Head of House.
It was a concentrated nightmare. Malfoy without pulse, bloody and broken. Professor Snape's mangled leg. Hagrid telling him to stop and accept death. The two little murderers smothering Malfoy. Longbottom hugging his toad. Edwards yelling at him, touching his arm, yelling again. The castle trembling. Professor Snape yelling at him, his breath smelling of booze. Jogging towards the Infirmary with an irresponsive Malfoy in his arms. His stepfather striking him, yelling at him to stop crying. Professor Snape comforting Malfoy. Edwards offering a truce. Professor Snape yelling at him not to follow.
Even being an expert Legilimens, it took the Professor some time and no doubt considerable effort to break through the heightened condensation of emotions and direct Benjamin's mind towards the specific memory he was looking for. He got there eventually, though, and then the whirlwind abruptly slowed down so they could study Evan Robert's features in detail —the long, red hair tied back in a messy ponytail; the bright green eyes that seemed to shine in the gloom; the intense expression and overgrown fringe that drew even more attention to the eyes.
When the mental connection was broken, for a moment they just stared at each other, and Benjamin feared the Professor would comment on his emotional mess, but then the eye contact was broken too and the moment was gone. Feeling his heart still pounding against his chest, he watched warily as his Head of House paced frantically in place like a restless beast locked in a tiny cage, his frenzied eyes darting from Benjamin, to Malfoy, to Madam Pomfrey, to the far distance where Evan Roberts must be approaching the castle surrounded by innocent first years.
"Severus? What is going on?" asked Madam Pomfrey anxiously. Her expression had become more and more grave as Malfoy's interrogation progressed, and Professor Snape's agitation plainly frightened her. "Who is-?"
"Obliviate!"
Benjamin blinked. The Professor had acted so fast that he didn't even register the movement until the spell had already hit its target. Luckily he hadn't been the target, but adrenaline rushed through him at the realization that he could be next, and that he would not be able to draw his own wand fast enough to block it.
It wasn't him whom the Professor Snape turned to next, though, but Malfoy, who cringed under the intimidating gaze and immediately began to sob and beg not to be turned into a brainless vegetable.
"Draco," snapped the Professor. "Calm down! I would never harm you, do you understand? Now listen! You will not say a single word about this incident or about Roberts to anyone —not even your parents— until we have discussed the matter. And you will never speak of what you have just seen me do. Am I clear?" Eyes wide with terror, the boy sniffed and nodded. Professor Snape pointed his wand at Madam Pomfrey again, hitting her with another spell while she was still lost in the post-obliviating haze. "Madam Pomfrey is going to help you dress so you can attend the Sorting Ceremony, Draco. Wait for me here, in silence. Not a single word! Benjamin, follow me!"
Feeling deeply uncomfortable, and guilty as though he were accessory to a crime, Benjamin turned his back on the bewildered matron and followed his Head of House out of the Infirmary.
"Sir, what is going on?" he asked in a whisper when the door closed behind them. "Why did you obliviate her?"
"I can't trust Poppy not to tell the Headmaster," said the Professor as he limped across the hallway. "And I can't trust the Headmaster to-"
"Professor!" They both stopped and turned to see Farley running down the corridor towards them. "Sir! The Headmaster-"
"Have the first years arrived?" cut her off the Professor.
"No, sir, not yet, but the Headmaster sent me to look for you. He said he needs you-"
Crack.
The same elf from earlier appeared in front of them.
"Professor Snape!" she squeaked. "The new students are landing now, sir!"
"Thank you. Let me know when they reach the castle proper, you may go." The elf nodded and popped away. "You too, Miss Farley, go back to the Great Hall."
"But sir, the Headmaster said I was not to return without you, he said-"
"I don't bloody care what he said! Go back to the Great Hall, Farley! And not running!"
Farley rushed away as quickly as she could without running, glancing over her shoulder in obvious fear. Benjamin was beginning to feel seriously afraid himself, his unconditional trust in Professor Snape wobbling on the verge of doubt. There was clearly some disagreement going on between the Professor and the Headmaster, and the Professor was keeping secrets, doing unscrupulous things, ignoring Dumbledore's summons... Benjamin knew which side he would choose if he had to, but he feared what that choice might cost him, and he worried it would be a mistake to put too much faith in a person so capable of betrayal and violence. Trusting a former Death Eater had never seemed so ill-advised as it seemed at this moment.
They reached the Health classroom before he could gather the courage to question his Head of House, and then his attention was completely diverted by the scene playing out inside. Crabbe and Goyle were actually stuck to a pair of chairs that seemed in time to be stuck to the floor, and they both were struggling to get up, their little arms flailing almost comically. It would have been funny to watch, if not for Edwards' harrowed expression that made clear there was nothing amusing about their behaviour.
"Professor!" she shrieked the moment she saw them. "Sir! There is something wrong with Crabbe and Goyle, I think they are under some sort of spell. I tried to finite it, but it didn't work, I think it might be the Impe-"
"Obliviate!"
Edwards' face went as blank as Madam Pomfrey's, the same dazed expression clouding her eyes. She didn't even blink when Professor Snape stepped closer to her and cupped her face-
"What are you doing?" blurted Benjamin, outrage snapping him out of his shock at the sight of his Head of House touching a girl he had just obliviated. "Don't touch her!"
"Quiet, Benjamin."
"Let her go!"
"I will fry her brain if you distract me. Quiet!"
Benjamin watched helplessly as the Professor gently angled Edwards' face upwards, as if he were going to kiss her, and broke into her addled mind without any sort of consent. He spent several seconds legilimizing her, and then pressed his wand to her temple and murmured some other spell until she collapsed in his arms.
"What did you do to her?" demanded Benjamin angrily as the Professor carefully arranged her limp body on a chair.
"I modified her memory of the last few hours, she'll wake up in a few minutes. Come here, Benjamin."
"Hours? That's too long! How much did you erase? What will she remember? If you've messed up with her mind-"
"Benjamin! There is no room for scruples in this situation. You said you wanted to help me protect Harry Potter, here's your chance. Now come!"
Grinding his teeth, and wondering how the hell did Harry Potter fit in all this, Benjamin wrenched his eyes from Edwards and moved closer to his Head of House, who had painfully knelt before one of the murderous kids and was trying to restrain him.
"Look in the eyes," instructed the Professor, holding the boy's head still for his inspection. "Their behaviour is obviously abnormal, but in more subtle cases you can see it in the eyes if you're looking for it. Easier to recognize if you know the subject personally."
Benjamin wasn't sure he saw what he was supposed to be seeing, but he wasn't in the mood for a lesson right now so he didn't ask for clarification. He did notice the change of behaviour when Professor Snape broke the curse, though, the way the boy suddenly stopped struggling to escape his chair, the confused look in his eyes —which were more focused than a moment ago, he could admit in retrospect. Benjamin watched the Professor repeat the procedure with the other boy, saw the struggling child come back to his senses, heard them both cry and swear that they hadn't meant to do what they had done.
And then it hit him, the significance of what his Head of House was showing him. Full realization of what this awakening meant. The two little murderers had been under the Imperius Curse the entire time. Everything they had done, everything from the first murder attempt, to the confessions, to their meek behaviour afterwards, to the second murder attempt... they hadn't been themselves. Someone had been controlling them.
Professor Snape climbed to his feet and gestured for him to follow him out of the classroom.
"He's not really a child, is he?" whispered Benjamin back in the hallway. "Roberts. A first year could never cast the Imperius Curse."
"The Dark Lord was already capable before coming to Hogwarts. Dark Magic comes easy to abused children, and this is no ordinary wizard we're dealing with."
A shiver run down his spine. The Dark Lord? Benjamin felt his blood freeze at the thought that he might have stood only feet away from the most dangerous dark wizard of all time.
"You think Roberts is the Dark Lord in disguise?" he asked faintly. "Is it some sort of reincarnation, or-"
"He is definitely not-"
"That's why the castle is afraid, isn't it? He attacked the wards, so the castle got defensive. He's trying to get in!"
The Professor had been shaking his head, but he stopped suddenly and seemed to pale even more as realization hit him as well.
"Fucking hell," he swore. "He's trying to apparate."
"He's got to be looking for Harry Potter, it can't be a coincidence, and don't say-"
"He is Harry Potter, Benjamin," cut him off his Head of House, willing him to connect the dots with an impatient look. "Evan Roberts is Harry Potter. And he's not trying to get in. He's trying to get out."