Whispers in Her Hair
by Indygodusk
Chapter 10 : Second Year - Scapegoats and Snape's Slytherins
Before Harry could reach the source of the screams, they trailed off. A familiar-sounding adult voice shouted a spell he didn't recognize. Fireworks flashed from around the corridor up ahead, giving a piercingly loud whistle as streamers of sparking red light streaked through the air over his head and out into the castle.
Feeling both deaf and blind, Harry staggered in a circle, bumping into Blaise while trying to remember which direction he'd been going. They grabbed onto each other, barely keeping upright, only to be knocked down as Draco tripped over his feet and sent them all sprawling.
"Ouch." Blaise said succinctly.
Suffocating with his face wrapped in someone's trailing robe and a bony elbow digging into his back, Harry bucked and wiggled. "Gerroff!" He spat out fabric and sat up, trying to catch his breath. Professors ran in from every direction towards the source of the fireworks, following the frantically gesturing portraits.
Harry and his friends scrambled to their feet only to come face to face with a harsh-looking Professor Snape, who'd just reached the top of the staircase, chest heaving. "Back to the common room. Now!" he snapped.
"But Professor—!" Harry started to argue, only to find his shoulder seized and his body spun around to face back towards the stairs. Draco was roughly shoved into place next to him.
"Do not test me, Potter!" Looking back at Snape, Harry found him glaring so hotly that he half expected his robes to start smoking. "You boys get to the common room now or I will petrify you myself and shove all three of you down the stairs! Now go!" Snape ordered, glancing back over his shoulder tensely.
"Yes, sir," Blaise said hurriedly, grabbing Harry and Draco's arms and dragging them forward.
Stupid Snape. Harry resisted for a moment before giving in with a scowl and stomping away down the staircase with his friends, keeping Snape in the corner of his eye as he went. He probably wasn't bluffing. Besides, it wasn't like Harry could do anything to help now if someone had gotten petrified.
However, he was extremely curious to know what that awful voice had meant by, "Baby queen."
From the corner of his eye he saw Snape put the tip of his wand against his throat and say, "Sonorous," amplifying his voice so it echoed and boomed throughout the castle. "Attention everyone. Report immediately to your common rooms. Prefects will take a headcount. I repeat, everyone report to their common rooms and stay there until told otherwise by their Head of House or face dire consequences." Ending the spell with a slash of his wand, Snape spun on his heel and disappeared in the direction of the commotion.
Frustrated and resentful, Harry went back to the dungeon with his friends.
-oo0oo-
Everyone crowded into the Slytherin common room, making it feel unusually hot and humid. People shed their robes and draped them over every available surface, but no one left to find somewhere cooler, unwilling to miss any news about what had happened.
A handful of Slytherins were missing, but rumor had it that most of them were in the hospital wing getting treated after a prank gone wrong. They'd opened a door and thrown in a handful of dungbombs at what they thought was a group of third years, not bothering to check first. When the room proved to hold seventh-years revising for their NEWTs, the pranksters had been overwhelmed by a barrage of angry jinxes that sent them limping to Madam Pomfrey for help.
As the time for dinner approached, everyone started getting cranky, hungry, and mean. The speculations and bets on which Muggleborn had been attacked—led by William Manic, Derrick, and Bole—were making Harry angry and anxious by turns. They only dared mention Hermione's name once. When Harry lost his temper, jumped up, and started climbing on top of a couch to get a clear shot at them over the crowd, they changed the subject before he could escape the restraining hands of his friends.
Hermione had to be fine. Harry refused to believe anything else.
Draco kept wringing his hands and repeating to anyone who'd listen, "We're safe. My father wouldn't put me at risk. He wouldn't." Occasionally he elaborated that none of them had anything to worry about from the Heir of Slytherin because his father wouldn't risk his son and heir, that if there was a real danger his father would've pulled him out of school or shut Hogwarts down and made sure it was taken care of because his father was never wrong. Draco probably also thought his father farted rainbows and lightning, so Harry didn't put much stock in his opinion. If Draco didn't shut up soon, Harry was going to use Valeria's spell to glue his mouth shut and stick him to a chair, especially since it didn't seem to be helping anyone, not even Draco. The more Draco talked about his father, the more hollow his eyes became, as if he knew he was lying to himself but couldn't seem to stop.
Blaise, meanwhile, was taking bets on everything, acting like Harry was the idiot for not realizing that it had always been with real money and claiming that if Harry hadn't been so self-absorbed, he would've realized it ages ago, which was infuriating... and also maybe true. In some ways, Harry had been self-absorbed this year. He had also chosen to surround himself with jerks, which begged the question—was he the nice one in their group, or was he a jerk too and just hadn't admitted it to himself?
In a bad mood, Harry paced the edges of the room, avoided his friends, and tried to keep his mind blank and mouth shut so he didn't lash out at someone who didn't deserve it. In the mood he was in everyone seemed to deserve it, but he had enough self-awareness to admit that that probably wasn't true. His head ached and something deep beneath the surface of his skin itched. He needed to see Hermione, needed to know that she was okay.
At last the dungeon door swung open, revealing Professor Snape. He moved… slowly. There was no billow to his robe and beneath his beaky nose the corners of his mouth drooped. His hooded eyes moved around the room, not even pausing as they passed over Harry to find the Prefects and demand a report. It was... unsettling.
Snape glanced over the list of missing students with no hint of surprise on his face, confirmed the location of the group in the infirmary, and tucked the list into his pocket. Emptying a chair of students with a single glare, he transfigured it into a small platform and climbed up the steps, folding his hands behind his back. The room became completely silent as everyone looked up at him.
"As you have probably guessed by now, there has been another incident. Two more students have been petrified." Snape finally looked across the room at Harry, his eyes like patches of black ice, sending a shiver down Harry's spine even though he couldn't read the expression.
Everyone followed Snape's glance to look at Harry. The people who'd been crowding against him to hear the news slid back until he was standing alone in the crowd. Swallowing, Harry lifted his chin and stared back at Snape, refusing to be cowed or show that any of it affected him.
"Which Muggleborns were taken out, Professor?" William Manic broke the silence, his red lips twisting in sick pleasure. "Anyone killed this time?"
Sneering, Derrick stood up taller and tossed his head. "Hey, isn't it Ravenclaw's turn? They're the only ones left since Gryffindor and Hufflepuff already got some of theirs petrified."
"Good point," Manic said, leaning forward. "Well, Professor? Did a Ravenclaw get killed?"
Lips going thin, Snape stared at Manic and Derrick until their smiles faltered. "No," Snape finally said curtly. "I'm sorry to say that two female students were found petrified: a Slytherin—" the room erupted into chaos and Snape had to raise his voice "—and a Gryffindor."
"Halle's missing! It has to be Halle!" cried one of her roommates.
"Impossible!" Draco shouted angrily, cutting his hands through the air and demanding the room's attention. "It can't be Halle Harper!"
William Manic crossed his arms and looked away from Snape towards Draco condescendingly, regaining his arrogance as he tried to stare Draco down. "Unlike the rest of us, Harper's a muggleborn. It was only a matter of time before someone took care of her."
"She's a half-blood, not a muggleborn!" Draco snapped. "Her grandmother was a Warren, making Harper a distant cousin to the Blacks, Ollivanders, and Selwyns. There are no muggleborns in Slytherin. I checked!" Looking feverish, he turned to Snape. "You must be mistaken. The Heir of Slytherin attacks based on blood status. It can't be her. I checked."
Snape sighed but otherwise didn't react. "There is no mistake, Mr. Malfoy. Blood status does not seem to matter anymore."
"Of course it matters!" Theo cried over the din as hysteria took over the room. "We can't be hunted like mudbloods!"
Harry would have gone over and hit him if Snape's voice hadn't frozen everyone in place like a predator slamming a paw on the chest of his prey. "Enough! Students will be spending the remainder of the night in the Great Hall while the Ministry helps us search the castle. You will be given dinner and then sleeping cots. Prefects will be responsible for keeping everyone in line."
"But Professor—" Blaise started, flicking his eyes to Harry for a split second with what looked like sympathy before returning his eyes to Snape. Harry wished he was close enough to stop Blaise from asking his next question. He had a feeling he wouldn't like it. "—you haven't actually told us the names of both students or even where it happened."
Inclining his head, Snape looked out over the crowd. "It happened near the library by the statue of the knight riding a boar. As for the victims, our Halle Harper was indeed petrified along with Gryffindor Hermione Granger."
A ringing filled Harry's ears, muffling the renewed noise of the crowd. "No." he shook his head, trying to shake out the words. "No." That couldn't be true. It couldn't. He'd just seen Hermione catch the Snitch. He still needed to apologize to her face to face, needed to keep his promise. Hermione couldn't be petrified. She couldn't.
Hands grabbed his robe, yanking him around and up onto his toes until he was dangling face to face with a wild-eyed Flint. "Halle was a half-blood. Did you do it, Harry? Was she collateral damage because of your argument with Granger?" Flint shook him roughly.
"N-no!" Harry sputtered, shocked and hurt. "Of course I didn't!" He hit at Flint's arms, unable to loosen his grip. "Of course I didn't do it!" He shouted, trying and failing to wrench himself away. "I'd never—not Halle—not Hermione—" his eyes filled with traitorous tears, making his vision blurry. His throat closed down. "Never," he rasped, hitting uselessly at Flint again.
Eyes boring into his soul, Flint gave a curt nod and set Harry back on his feet. "Okay, sorry."
Knuckling at his eyes didn't stop the stupid tears. "Arse." They just came faster. "I wouldn't."
"Okay," Flint repeated. "Sorry."
Harry wanted to jump up on Snape's platform and scream. Wanted to start hitting someone and not stop. Wanted to sink through the ground and disappear. Wanted Hermione to hear his apology and forgive him and share a soft hug… but that was impossible because she wasn't soft at all anymore, she was hard, hard as stone and just as lifeless.
Being petrified wasn't much different from being dead, especially when the Mandrake Potion wasn't ready yet. That was what the Heir of Slytherin wanted, to kill muggleborns like Hermione, maybe to kill anyone different, to make them disappear. Harry thought of his world without Hermione in it, of living the rest of his life without her forgiving his mistakes or ever flying with him again... and found himself unable to breathe, the corners on his vision tunnelling and his knees going weak.
Flint's hand unexpectedly cupped the back of Harry's neck and yanked him against his chest in a hold just as impossible to escape as the last one. "Piss off," Harry wheezed, locking his knees and fisting his hands in Flint's robes tight enough to make his fingers hurt, trying not to pass out. Closing his eyes, he pressed his forehead into Flint's chest and tried to catch his breath. The hot hand on his neck felt grounding, protective instead of threatening.
"You're okay Harry, just breathe. I believe you. I had to rule it out, just in case…but I believe you. I've got you. Calm down. I've got you," Flint said softly, his voice rumbling from his chest straight into Harry's head.
A hand came to rest on his shoulder and Harry heard Valeria speaking softly a second later. "If a half-blood can be petrified then none of us are safe. None of us. The professors are useless." Her fingers tightened and her voice turned bitter and weary. "We're going to have to protect ourselves, just like always."
Harry laughed wetly. "Just like always." Wrenching his seesawing emotions back into alignment, Harry forced himself to let go of Flint's robes and stand on his own two feet.
"One day at a time." Flint's hand on Harry's neck squeezed once before letting go, the older boy swinging around to stand shoulder to shoulder with Harry.
Lips pursing, Valeria grabbed Harry's chin and, pulling her sleeve down over her fingers, scrubbed Harry's face dry. "Don't show them any weakness," she ordered, running her hands through his hair roughly and tugging straight his robe before stepping back to flank Harry on his other side, her face as cold as carved marble.
Harry blew out his breath and lifted his chin, trying to copy Valeria's expression and look like he was fine and hadn't just been falling apart. He was surprised to see that they were surrounded on all sides by members of the Quidditch team, mostly facing out in a protective circle that granted them some privacy from other members of their house. A lot of people were trying to catch a glimpse of him, probably putting together his stunt today with the flag and the name of the second victim. He took note of who looked sympathetic versus those who looked amused by Hermione's petrification and his pain. He would remember.
Snape conferred with the Prefects by the door and then led everyone out. Harry was near the end of the line. They reached the top of the staircase and passed through the foyer on their way into the Great Hall.
Most of Slytherin House, except for a few stragglers like Harry, had rushed ahead—following the smell of food—when the front doors opened, letting in a gust of icy air and a strange group of adults.
Dumbledore appeared first, the twinkle missing from his eyes and his shoulders slightly bowed, almost as if he had failed at something. As soon as the Headmaster noticed the students in the entryway his posture instantly straightened, making Harry almost wonder if he'd just imagined it.
After Dumbledore came a self-important looking man with neatly cut grey hair and a fancy pocket watch chain hanging out his front pocket, followed by several men and women in dark, utilitarian robes that made Harry think of guards. Hagrid strode in the middle of the group.
"That's Fudge and the Aurors!" Draco gasped.
Harry jumped, not having realized he was there. "Who?" he asked.
"Cornelius Fudge, Minister for Magic, the man in charge of the government," Draco said tightly and gestured subtly to the guards, "and those are Aurors, dark wizard hunters."
Watching them, Harry realized that the Aurors weren't there to protect Minister Fudge, but to take in Hagrid, whom they watched with cold suspicion. Hagrid's face was twisted in a terrible combination of frustration, fear, and hopelessness. It looked wrong and yet familiar. Harry had seen that expression once before at the end of Tom Riddle's memory.
Before the doors swung closed, Lucius Malfoy slipped inside. Casting a quick glance around the room, he honed in on the Minister and strode forward. "Cornelius," he called out, making the group stop and turn, "this—this man," Malfoy pronounced the word with irony as he pointed his silver-topped cane at Hagrid, "should be in shackles."
"Father!" Draco cried, rushing forward.
Dumbledore turned to face Lucius Malfoy with a disapproving frown. "There is no need, Mr. Malfoy. Hagrid has agreed to go in for questioning despite the lack of evidence. He has not been charged with anything."
"Not yet." Lucius sneered. "However, I'm sure that will soon change, especially since, with another attack, the Board of Governors has decided to stop taking your word about anything regarding the current problems in this school."
"No!" Harry couldn't help but exclaim, charging after Draco. "Hagrid would never hurt a student and neither would Professor Dumbledore!"
Draco came to a stop next to his father, head upturned as reached out with a voice full of relief and urgency. "Father, I need to talk to you!"
Busy shooting a disdainful glare at Harry, Mr. Malfoy avoided Draco's hands deftly, patting his son on the head twice like a dog but otherwise not sparing him a glance. "Not now, Draco."
Draco stumbled to a stop, staring at his father's back in shock, looking both offended and hurt. "But father..." he trailed off when his father continued to walk away, still ignoring him.
"Now what's this about the Board of Governors, Lucius?" Minister Fudge asked, the corners of his eyes going tight. He ignored both Draco and Harry, dismissing them in a single glance as unimportant. Harry wondered if flashing his scar would give him the chance to be heard, then decided that even if it did, it probably wouldn't change anything. The scar didn't get him respect, it got him notoriety. He forced himself to settle back to listen and wait.
The Malfoy patriarch came to a stop between Fudge and Dumbledore, leaning forward on his cane in a powerful pose that drew all eyes in the room. "Like the Ministry, we have found it necessary to intervene in the running of the school after this latest attack. After all, we can't have the public doubting how seriously we take the safety of their children." He inclined his head towards the Minister. "I'm sure you'll agree, Cornelius."
"Oh yes, public perception. Very important," Fudge quickly agreed. "As is safety, of course."
Mr. Malfoy smiled thinly and turned to the Headmaster with something cold and smug in his eyes. "Albus Dumbledore, on behalf of the Board I am here to tell you that you are being relieved of your duties as Headmaster of Hogwarts. Effective immediately."
Gasps and cries came from the students lingering in the foyer and crowding the doorway to the Great Hall to watch. Harry was trying not to panic at the thought of the Heir of Slytherin still running loose without Dumbledore around to at least hinder their movements and attacks, even if he hadn't been able to stop them completely. If someone as powerful as Dumbledore couldn't figure it out, who could? Certainly not the rest of the professors.
Valeria was right. Just like always, they were going to have to protect themselves. Harry should know better by now than to trust in adults to rescue him. They never had before, why should that change now?
Eyes locked, Mr. Malfoy tried to stare Dumbledore down and failed, the older wizard looking back so evenly that eventually Malfoy was forced to drop his eyes with a huff and adjust the fall of his robes.
The corner of Dumbledore's mouth twitched for a split second before his expression returned to bland affability. "I shall escort the Minister and Hagrid to the floo in my office first. I trust I will be allowed to pack my things before leaving." He phrased it as a statement instead of a question. "I think that this is a mistake—" an uneasy ripple went through the guards and Malfoy's brows slammed down as he opened his mouth to argue, only for Dumbledore to hold up a hand, cutting him off "—but I will follow the will of the Board. However, there will always be help at Hogwarts for those who are loyal." For a brief moment, it felt like Dumbledore was looking over the top of his spectacles directly into Harry's eyes, making Harry's breath catch. Then the group swept past on their way to the stairs leading up to Dumbledore's office.
"Thank you for cooperating, Albus," the voice of Minister Fudge drifted back. "Hopefully the culprit will soon be caught and this unpleasantness will only be temporary." The group disappeared up the stairs without further conversation, leaving Harry with his whirling thoughts.
"Stop gawking and get inside," Valeria's voice snapped him out of his fugue. She shoved him forward. "Grab Draco and let's go."
Following her command numbly, Harry grabbed the unusually quiet Draco and walked into the buzzing Great Hall to sit at the Slytherin table. Harry spooned some mashed potatoes onto his plate, but after only a few bites he found the food sticking uncomfortably in his mouth, feeling too thick to swallow. Draco was even worse, pushing the food around on his plate but not actually lifting any up to his mouth. Trying to be a good example, Harry accidentally-on-purpose bumped into Draco's side and took a big bite of his food. Sighing, Draco lifted a spoonful of peas to his mouth and lipped two into his mouth before dropping his spoon again.
A glance up at the mostly empty staff table—a table that might never see Dumbledore sitting there ever again—made Harry swallow hard, the potatoes scraping down his throat painfully. Both Slytherins and Gryffindors were unusually subdued tonight, probably thinking of their lost members petrified up in the infirmary—thinking about the hole left by Halle and Hermione. Harry's fork clattered down onto his plate. He didn't think he could force down another mouthful.
"When you're upset, you should punish other people. Not yourself," Valeria said sternly, which… explained so much about her, really. "You should eat more."
Draco sighed and mumbled petulantly, "I'm not upset."
"I am," Harry said glumly.
"How did I get saddled with a bunch of moody twelve-year-olds," Valeria muttered under her breath, standing up and reaching for a hot chocolate tray farther down the table.
Pushing away his plate, Draco sent her a scowl and raised his chin into the air. "I'm not some twelve-year old kid."
"I am," Harry repeated with a sigh before giving Draco a sideways look. "And that was a lie. Your birthday's in June. We're both still twelve."
"Shut up, Potter," Draco snapped, flushing pink.
On Valeria's other side Flint chuckled and used his longer arms to move platters out of the way for Valeria to drag the beverage tray she wanted closer, leaning over to speak quietly in her ear with a smirk, "You have no one to blame for this but yourself. You break it, you buy it."
"Are you saying I've broken these poor boys?" Valeria asked Flint coyly. People nearby jumped and stared, still not used to anything but cold disdain from Valeria, before quickly looking away, afraid of being caught and jinxed in retaliation.
Flint grinned and rested his chin on his fist. "Are you saying you haven't?"
Giving a mysterious smile in response, Valeria turned to the tray, grabbing four mugs and pouring out a stream of steaming hot chocolate into each mug, followed by several dashes of cinnamon. That was weird but not too bad. Then she picked up a shaker of cayenne pepper hiding behind a platter of red beans and sprinkled that on top of the first three mugs. Harry couldn't help but make a disgusted face and opened his mouth to comment before realizing how that would probably go and snapping his mouth shut again. Valeria grabbed a spoon and rapped the back of his hand to prove she'd seen the face, but didn't rap him too hard in approval for thinking before speaking. Using the spoon, she scraped dark chocolate shavings and whipped cream off a nearby pie and dolloped some on each concoction, ignoring the pouty lips and sad eyes made by Terence watching the destruction of the dessert he'd been about to grab from the other side of the table. The one mug without cayenne pepper she handed to Flint, placing the others in front of Harry, Draco, and herself.
"Drink it," she ordered, sitting back down gracefully.
Eyeing the mug dubiously, Harry screwed up his face and obediently took a sip, bracing himself. Spicy… but kind of nice. Really nice, actually, warming him from mouth to stomach. He wanted more, but hesitated. Draco was watching his reaction closely. Harry made sure to shudder and twist his expression into disgust and nausea, channeling his memory of drinking Skele-Gro and selling it for all he was worth.
Expression pained, Draco lifted the mug to his mouth and hesitated, glancing dubiously between Harry and Flint, who sipped his drink with a happy hum. "Why doesn't he have to drink it with pepper?
"Because he's not being moody and he doesn't like cayenne pepper," Valeria said reasonably.
Lowering the mug, Draco tried to bluster, "Well I don't—
"Drink it," she cut him off in a scary voice, eyes narrowing and fingertip tapping the table.
"Yes, Valeria." Draco meekly dropped his eyes, lifted the mug to his lips like a man going to an execution and, screwing up his face, forced himself to take a sip. Rolling it around in his mouth, his eyes went wide and his shoulders came down. Draco swallowed, turned to Harry, and hit him hard in the arm. "You prat! It's not bad at all."
Dropping his act, Harry laughed, slapping Draco's second punch away and elbowing him in the side. "Got you!" Harry took a big sip of his doctored hot chocolate, liking the second spicy sip even better than the first.
Grumbling, Draco elbowed Harry back and slurped at his drink, licking the cream from the top of his lips.
Wrapping an arm around Valeria's waist, Flint drank from his mug and looked around with satisfaction. "See? You broke them."
"Broke them in maybe," she said, sipping her drink smugly.
Flint shook his head and took another drink. "Same difference. You're stuck with them now." He held out his mug towards her. "More cream please?"
"What am I, your personal elf?" Nevertheless, her spoon darted out, scraping across the top of the pie slice Terence had just started to lift from the tin and depositing the cream into Flint's mug.
"You stink!" Terrence cried, throwing the mangled pie slice back into the tin, causing the bottom crust to break and ooze out chocolate mousse.
Valeria leaned forward with an almost pleasant smile. "I could jinx you to stink. For a full week."
Terence held her stare for three whole seconds before folding. "Of poisoned flowers and the sweet blood of your enemies. That's what I meant, of course." He tilted the tin towards her with a grimacing smile. "Would you like more cream?"
Looking pleased with herself, Valeria shook her head and leaned back into Flint's arm, taking a dainty sip from her mug.
Smirking, Flint lifted his mug and slurped loudly. He squeezed Valeria's waist with an appreciative look, following it up with a hard stare for Terence. It was teasing, but people who didn't really know Flint would probably read it as scary, even with the cream now dotting his nose and upper lip. Terence subtly flicked his eyes to his fork, angling it to catapult mash potatoes at Flint's face. Flint narrowed his eyes into a threat, but he couldn't keep from showing the little creases that meant he was holding in a laugh as he ran his hand over the cream on his face and then licked it clean.
Harry kept watching them carefully, ready to duck the moment a food fight broke out. As a former Seeker, Terence was fast and tricky. Flint knew it too, keeping his eyes locked on Terence as he absent-mindedly ran his hand up and down Valeria's arm and then up her back and into her hair, massaging gently.
Valeria froze the instant his fingers tightened in her hair. Flint was too distracted to notice. Her eyes blanked and her expression wiped clean of all thoughts or emotions. She even stopped breathing. It was like Valeria had disappeared and Harry was sitting next to an empty doll.
Not thinking—just reacting to the wrongness—Harry grabbed Flint's wrist, dug in his fingernails, and twisted, forcing Flint to stop touching her.
Instantly Flint turned on Harry with bared teeth and violence in his eyes, reminding Harry of the last time he'd been bitten by one of Aunt Marge's dogs. Flint's large hand shot out behind Valeria's back and grabbed Harry's robe, tightening the cloth around his neck so it became hard to breathe.
"Stop!" Harry wheezed, urgently flicking his eyes towards where Valeria still sat unmoving, not even reacting to Harry being strangled behind her back, her usual aura of power completely missing.
Fingers tightening painfully, Flint followed the glance for only a second before turning back to Harry with a growl. "If you think—" stopping, Flint took a second look at Valeria. His eyes widened. Recognition, guilt, anger, and pain flashed through his eyes before he swallowed back the emotions.
Releasing Harry with a jerk, he moved back, shifting so no part of him touched Valeria. Lips thin, he picked up a pea off his plate and threw it at Harry so it bounced off his nose, forcing his expression into one of light mocking. "If you want a fight, use the best tools for the situation."
Flint picked up another pea and, tossing it up only to catch it again, arched his brow, keeping his eyes on Harry and away from his frozen girlfriend. "In here it's food, not fists, Harry." He flicked the pea at Harry again, but this time Harry blocked it with his hand.
Valeria had started breathing again but was still off, dropping her head to stare vacantly at her plate. Harry didn't want anyone to notice her vulnerability. He had to protect her.
"What about magical food?" he asked, waving his hand to draw people's attention and forcing himself to sit back and look nonchalant. "Like could you aim an army of chocolate frogs at someone and get them all to jump at the same time? It would be a good prank."
"Waste of good chocolate," Flint said, placing both of his hands flat on the table and slouching as if to try and make himself look smaller and more harmless (a nigh impossible task).
"Besides, chocolate frogs are hard to aim," Terence chimed in, looking confused and slightly worried about what had just happened but going along with the change in topic without skipping a beat, following his Captain's lead. "You'd be better with a rocket pop or something that flies in a straight line. I'd also use something they either really liked or really hated to eat. I should think that would be even more distracting."
For the next several minutes they discussed the pros and cons of different types of foods you could use in a food fight. Draco favored hard candies while Terence leaned towards foods that splattered. Harry and Flint let them lead the argument, both too worried about Valeria to really focus.
The knot in Harry's belly only started to unwind when Valeria blew out her breath and reached out to pick up her mug, taking a long, slow sip.
"So theoretically," Terence said, turning to Flint, "if I wanted to distract Valeria during a food fight, what should I throw? Chocolate?" He only grinned when Valeria ignored him and took another sip of her spicy hot chocolate. Terence had always been an adrenaline junky. It had been part of what made him such a good Seeker.
Flint's hand fisting on the table was his only tell that he was unhappy to have the focus shifting to Valeria. Otherwise, his expression looked unconcerned. "Nope, crispy bacon."
Terence chuffed. "Let me guess. She likes to feel it crunch between her teeth like an ogre with human bones?"
"I am sitting right here," Valeria said softly, her tone all the more dangerous for how quiet it was.
"Like an ogre queen I meant, of course." Terrence's fork snapped out and stole the bacon Miles had just put on his plate, flipping it up into the air so it sailed over the hot chocolate tray and pie tin in the middle of the table to land in the exact center of Valeria's plate.
"Hey!" Miles cried.
Everyone ignored him.
Valeria looked at the bacon for a moment before picking it up and taking a bite with a rough crunch, chewing viciously.
"Oh here," Draco said abruptly, grabbing the bacon plate from farther down the table and dropping it in front of Valeria, almost knocking over the pot of hot chocolate and forcing Miles to grab it before it tipped over into his lap. "We might as well appease her highness with the rest of it."
Not giving any acknowledgement, Valeria transferred most of the bacon to her plate, tossing back a few limp pieces that hadn't been cooked as crispy as the rest.
"Good idea," Terence said, watching her pick through the bacon. "In fact, very good idea." He reached out and dragged the entire pie tin in front of himself. Scraping across the surface of the pie, he consolidated the remaining cream in one section and dug deep, cramming the towering bite of crust, chocolate mousse, and dripping cream into his mouth with a hum.
-oo0oo-
After dinner the tables were removed and replaced with sleeping cots. It was still too early to sleep and the few adults in the room seemed more interested in gossiping about Dumbledore's removal and what could have petrified the students (the same list of already rejected creatures that had been bouncing around for months) than in overseeing any particular activity. The Ravenclaw corner became a hub for homework and studying while the Hufflepuffs and Gryffindors had drawn in many of the other students by organizing tournaments for Wizard Chess, Gobstones, Exploding Snap, and a few other games.
In the Slytherin section Valeria's mood rapidly deteriorated, sliding from short-tempered into downright nasty. She dragged her cot to the only corner, placed her back to the wall, and defended it with prejudice. A couple of seventh-years—stupid and short-tempered ones who refused to accept that older didn't mean stronger—tried to kick her out of the best spot. Before Harry could do anything the fight was already over. He winced at the squelches and whimpers. A few other idiots thought they could get away with muttered insults and complaints. They quickly found themselves cocooned on their cots in goo, mummified from the bottoms of their ankles to the tops of their lips. She didn't seem in any hurry to cancel the spell either.
The Muggle-Studies Professor tugged on Snape's robe fretfully and pointed out what was going on, but—on seeing that it was normal Slytherin in-fighting without any dripping wounds or hysterical shrieking—Snape impatiently dismissed her concerns and left his Slytherins alone to work it out by themselves.
When Harry mentioned to Blaise that he was shocked that anyone could be stupid enough to attack her in a frontal assault, much less insult her within her hearing, Blaise pulled him to the other side of the room and explained how most people only knew Valeria by reputation. She kept to herself and rarely interacted with people outside of Quidditch, leading to some people thinking her reputation was exaggerated. Dating Flint and training Harry had pushed her a bit more into the spotlight this year, but she hadn't taken advantage of the attention. Valeria was dominant in the hierarchy not because of how well she played the game, but because she was scary enough to mostly avoid playing.
Even her yearmates supposedly didn't know her that well since she kept to herself as much as possible during classes and hadn't slept in the group room since third year, when she'd dominated them all to claim the big private room.
Similar to Gryffindor, Slytherins slept in same-sex shared rooms their first two years. However, starting in third year, Slytherins were also given a large private room to fight over. The winner got to sleep alone while everyone else still had to share. Each year the number of private rooms increased by one, though each room added was smaller than the last, ending with everyone in a single by seventh year, though if you had more than six people to start with then the rumor was that the final private rooms were all only wide enough for a single bed and you had to climb over the foot of the bed to get inside to lay down. Ownership of private rooms could be transferred the first week of each semester. It encouraged a lot of dominance fights and helped establish a relatively linear hierarchy, at least within each age group by gender. Some people dominated through charisma, some through trading of favors, and others through fear and force.
Flint tried to go talk to Valeria and barely got his shield spell up in time to deflect the spell she shot at his face. Grinding his teeth, he sent her a frustrated look and stomped away. Harry didn't even bother trying. There was no point until she got over whatever bad memory had made her freeze up during dinner.
The opposition quickly folded, leaving Valeria to her corner surrounded by a ring of space where no one who valued their life dared venture. She covered her head and shoulders in her blanket until nothing showed but her shadowed chin and the wand in her hand, wedged herself into the corner, and became so still she almost seemed to disappear.
Without the distraction of dinner, Harry noticed a lot of people casting fearful and angry looks in his direction as everyone remembered that he was the most popular candidate for the Heir of Slytherin. He even heard a few people speculating that his stunt with the flag had been an attempt to throw off suspicion for his planned attack on Hermione, or that he'd cornered her after the game and then attacked when she'd refused to speak to him. It made him so angry—an anger that throbbed like a second heartbeat in his chest—but he refused to cower, meeting every look with a glare of his own. He hadn't done anything to be ashamed of. They were the shameless ones, convicting him of a crime without a single shred of evidence.
He distracted himself with homework, a game, and then a book, but nothing could keep his attention for long. This morning felt like a lifetime ago. He'd woken with such anticipation and hope. He'd thought his plan perfect and that he'd accounted for every eventuality. He'd promised himself that he'd apologize to Hermione no matter what. Somehow, he'd forgotten to take into account Hermione getting petrified before he could say the words. Now that she couldn't hear them, what was even the point?
The carefully styled reflection of himself from that morning stepped to the forefront of his mind, reached out, and smacked him over the head hard enough to make his ears ring. "No more excuses. You know what you have to do. You will apologize. Today!"
Using his pep talk from that morning was unfair. Hermione was petrified up in the infirmary. His promises were pointless. Hermione would never even know if he said anything or not.
You'll know, Harry. You will. What is your promise worth? When you vowed to say the words before today ended, were you lying?
No! When he'd promised to do whatever it took to apologize today, he'd meant it… and the day wasn't over yet.
Looking around, he saw Professor Snape talking quietly to Professor Sinistra at the edge of the room.
"Whatever it takes," he told himself, swallowing down the sick feeling in his stomach as he stood up and wiped his sweaty palms off on his robes.
Blaise looked up from the story he'd been reading on his cot. "What's that, Harry?"
"I promised to apologize to Hermione today," Harry said, trying to sound resolute. His words drew looks of consternation from his friends.
Putting a finger between the pages of his book to mark his place, Blaise sat up, looking sympathetic. "Isn't that what the whole thing with the flag was about during the game? I think you made a good attempt."
Harry was trying to get his feet to move, but they didn't seem to be obeying him. "I haven't said the words yet. I need to go and tell her face to face."
"Don't be stupid, Harry," Draco said sharply. "No one gets out of here, much less into the infirmary to see the victims. Not without permission from their Head of House." His mood had steadily worsened since he'd finished his cup of spicy cocoa. He kept trying to write a letter to his parents, only to crumple up the paper and start over again after only a few lines. His blankets and the floor around his cot were covered in ragged balls of paper.
Eyes narrowing at Draco, Harry curtly told him, "I know that. That's why I'm going to go and ask Snape."
Draco tossed down his quill with a bit too much relish. "Professor Snape hates you. He wouldn't give you permission to use the loo, much less leave the room during a lockdown to visit a friend, a friend who's a Gryffindor, a Gryffindor who made him lose a Quidditch match to Professor McGonagall."
"It was a tie!" Harry snapped, grinding his teeth.
Snorting, Draco shook his head condescendingly. "Snape doesn't care. He doesn't understand you—he doesn't want to understand you. Asking him for anything is a waste of time."
What made Draco even more irritating than most people was that he could be just as cruel with the truth as he could with a lie. However, Draco's mocking somehow did what Blaise's sympathy could not, solidifying Harry's resolve, dissolving his fears, and filling him with clarity. "It's my time to waste," he said evenly, meeting Draco's eyes and refusing to blink first. "I made a promise. I have to do my best to keep it, no matter what it takes. That's what making a promise means to me."
Lips twisting, Draco looked away and shrugged one shoulder. "Your funeral."
Considering the monster currently stalking the halls of Hogwarts, Harry didn't find that very funny. "Better to die for caring too much than for not caring enough." For some reason that made Draco flinch and fidget.
Distracted by the show of weakness, Harry stepped closer and lowered his voice. "Why do you look guilty, Draco? What did you do?"
Draco couldn't be the Heir of Slytherin because he'd been with Harry during several of the attacks. He'd looked just as worried as the rest of them while waiting for news. That theory made little sense. So what was this?
Avoiding Harry's eyes, Draco twisted away and started gathering up his crumbled letter drafts. "If you're going to work some miracle on Snape, you'd better hurry."
Running a hand over his hair in frustration, Harry looked over and saw that Snape had finished his conversation with Sinistra and started moving towards a side door. Draco was right. Harry would have to figure out what was going on with Draco later.
Straightening up, Harry took a deep breath and left to intercept Snape. He caught him just as he reached the doorway. "Professor Snape," he called, reminding himself to act respectful and humble. There were more important things than pride.
He was reminded of Valeria's words when she'd terrified them with her announcement of Viper school: "You have to learn when to sink to your knees and keep your own council and when to stay standing and fight. Learn the humility to subordinate yourself to a stronger power. Compensate for your weaknesses and hone your strengths. Learn what is most important to you and what you will do to keep it. Learn who you are and how to succeed at hard things. Learn how to win."
Lips pinching, Snape turned. "Mister Potter. What is it?"
"I'd like permission to visit the students in the infirmary," Harry said, trying to make himself act like Draco when he was being a huge suck-up. Snape always responded really well to that.
"Denied."
Then again, there'd always been a huge difference between how Snape reacted to Draco versus Harry.
Opening the door, Snape turned his back on Harry dismissively and stepped out into the hall. Harry followed doggedly at his heels. He refused to concede so easily. "Please Professor, I'd like to visit my friends." It took effort, but he kept his tone of voice soft.
"Denied." Snape spun on his heel, the picture of irritation as his black robes snapped around his legs. "I'm not stupid, Potter. Everyone knows that the muggleborns are all terrified of you. None of them are your friends. Besides, you're just like your father. I won't let you waltz in there and prank those petrified students just to gain status in Slytherin or for a bit of a laugh."
Temper pricked, Harry stepped closer and met Snape's eyes hotly. "I don't know what your problem is with my father but I'm. Not. Him." He sucked in air through his teeth and tried to calm down. "And I don't want to prank anyone. I just want to visit Halle."
"Don't bother lying." Snape's mouth twisted with contempt. "Miss Harper is one of mine. I know how scared of you she is. I caught you bullying her, remember?"
"I wasn't bullying her, I was trying to stop the bullying!" Harry growled and barely kept from fisting his hands. "I've suffered too much from bullies to ever want to become one." He tried to ignore Snape's scoff. "And I may be in Slytherin, but I don't care about blood status. I care about people and Halle Harper is a good person. She deserves better." Rubbing his forehead hard, thumbing the bump of his scar, Harry took a deep breath and reined in his temper, frustrated at both Snape and himself. "That's the truth."
"Really?" Snape's dark eyebrow arched skeptically. "You expect me to believe that you want to visit her just because she's a good person? You haven't asked to visit anyone else before now. Shouldn't Saint Potter have wanted to visit all of the poor victims?" He sneered.
Harry gritted his teeth."I don't know the other victims."
Snape sniffed, unimpressed. "From what I've seen you barely know Miss Harper. You're wasting my time with your lies. I said no. Go back into the Great Hall." His brow beetled as he glared at Harry. "Now."
What could Harry possibly say to change Snape's mind? To get him to understand? There was no lie that seemed clever enough and the truth was hard to accept even for Harry's closest friends. Then again, he couldn't just give up. He'd promised. If all he had was the truth then so be it. He was willing to humble himself even more for the chance to keep his promise.
Swallowing hard, Harry tried to meet Snape's glare with earnestness, stomping down on his pride and temper. "Please, Professor. Let me try to explain, just one more time. You're right that this isn't completely about Halle," a dangerous light sparked in Snape's eyes so Harry sped up his delivery before he was picked up and tossed head-first back through the door, "or not just about Halle, at least. I wasn't lying when I said I care about her. I haven't lied at all to you. You said earlier that she's one of yours. Well, I know you don't like me, but that doesn't change the fact that—" Harry had to call upon all his bravery to finish his sentence "—I'm one of yours too."
Something subtle in Snape's face changed at that—surprise morphing into bitter irony and acceptance that gave Harry hope for the first time during the entire conversation.
Stumbling over his words, Harry continued, "I know I'm far from perfect, but I'll always be a Slytherin and since you're my Head of House, we'll always be tied together. I need your help, Professor. I need help keeping a promise to apologize, not to Halle, but to Hermione Granger."
At that confession, Snape's eyes went wide in shock and incredulity.
Looking down, Harry traced the edges of the flagstones with his eyes and forced himself to keep explaining. It didn't matter what Snape thought of him as long as he helped in the end. This was more important than pride. "I know it's hard to believe that a boy in Slytherin could ever be friends with a girl in Gryffindor," he shrugged moodily, distantly noticing Snape reacting to his words but too caught up in his story to look for weaknesses in his Professor right now, "but Hermione and I were good friends. Best friends. She was the best—is the best." He sucked in a hard breath, angry at himself for using past tense when she wasn't gone, just petrified. She was still here. He was going to go up and see that for himself soon. He just had to convince Snape to let him.
"This year I got caught up in trying out for the Quidditch team and then with getting to know my new friends and teammates and I dropped her for a while, thinking our friendship would pick up just fine when I wasn't so busy. It was stupid and selfish. I got blindsided when she came out as the reserve Gryffindor Seeker and that Bludger broke my arm and then she caught the Snitch when I fell off my broom and I was so humiliated and angry and in pain that I lashed out and almost called her a mud—" cutting himself off, Harry bit his lip hard enough to bleed. Taking off his glasses, he pressed his fingers hard against his eyes and told himself to get a grip. He was rambling.
For some reason Snape hadn't interrupted him yet. Harry couldn't count on that continuing for long. He forced himself to look up. Snape's slightly blurry face looked paler than usual and he seemed to almost flinch as their eyes met. There was something about Harry's green eyes without their glasses that seemed to unnerve the man, but he'd have to figure that out later. Right now he didn't have the thoughts to spare.
"Sorry, you don't care about that," he rasped, trying to stop himself only to start babbling again. "Anyway, I know better than to use that word—I don't even believe in it. She's the brightest witch in our year, she's amazing, but I was just so angry and weak and stupid." The hinge of his glasses bit into his palm, but Harry didn't relax his grip, feeling like he deserved the pain. "Luckily I stopped myself before I actually said it, but she could see that I almost had and it hurt her. I hurt her." And he was so ashamed of that.
"Then I didn't know how to apologize because before Hogwarts I never had any friends to apologize to and living with my Aunt Petunia, apologizing was more a matter of survival than sincerity because if I didn't—" Harry's teeth clacked painfully as he bit his words off. Rubbing the old burn scars on his hand, he licked away the coppery blood seeping from his bit lip and reminded himself again that Snape didn't care about those details. No one did.
He forced himself to restart. "Hermione is nothing like them. She's so much better. She deserved better and I didn't know how to do it right so... I didn't do anything." Voice full of self-loathing, he tore his eyes away and shoved his glasses back onto his face, not even wincing as the arm of his glasses scraped across his cheek.
Harry's chest hurt. Stupid, clumsy idiot. Snape didn't need to know all those details. That wasn't what he'd been intending to say. What was Harry's problem? Where had all of his Slytherin cunning disappeared to? What had happened to his gift for speeches? Did that only work with his peers and not with adults? Had it all been a fluke?
Crossing his arms behind his back, tightening his hand on his wrist, he stared over Snape's shoulder and forced himself to finish. "So that's the long and short of it. I was stupid and a coward. I let it go on until I realized that if I didn't change, I was going to lose my friend forever." He had to take a quick breath as saying the words out loud sent a painful cramp through his gut.
"I planned out a big apology to make up for how long I'd waited, a big gesture in front of everyone so she'd know that I was really sorry and that I wasn't going to pretend she wasn't my friend in front of others just because she's a Gryffindor and I'm a Slytherin or because she's muggleborn and I'm a half-blood or even because we're on opposing Quidditch teams." His eyes stung and his heart pounded. "That's what my flag was about during today's game, my promise to stop hiding from hard things and be a better friend."
Draco had ridiculed Harry's announcement by saying that Snape didn't care or understand him, that Snape didn't want to understand him. The only way Harry was getting up to the infirmary was if he could get past that. He couldn't make Snape care, but maybe he could make him understand. That's what this explanation was about. He had to stay humble and focused on that goal.
"I promised myself I'd apologize no matter what. That's why I need your permission to go and visit her now, Professor. I need to say I'm sorry. I promised that I would say it to her today, even if I had to wait outside her common room door for hours," Snape twitched at that, "or disguise myself and sneak inside to do it. She deserves an apology. I've made her wait long enough."
Harry's grip on the wrist behind his back was so tight that his hand was starting to go numb. "Please, sir. That's the whole truth. I just want to keep my promise and apologize to my friend." He forced his eyes to Snape's, hoping the man would be moved by his sincerity, hoping it had been enough to get him to understand. "Please help me."
Snape looked back, seemingly dazed, staring as if he was seeing Harry for the first time. "You have your mother's eyes," he said unexpectedly, his voice unsteady.
Blinking rapidly, Harry opened and closed his mouth. "Wha—you knew my mother?" He was so surprised that he was unable to censor his next thought. "Were you friends? Am I much like her?" he asked eagerly, only to wince and drop his eyes as Snape recoiled, his shoulders going up and his entire frame tightening.
"Sorry, stupid question. I know what you think of me," Harry breathed. He dug his fingernails into his wrist. That was dumb. Snape hated his guts and constantly compared him to his father, whom he'd also hated. He knew that.
No one here really told Harry much about his parents except for vague platitudes about love and bravery. He had a few more details about his father and his penchant for pranks and Quidditch (and how much Snape thought he was a conceited jerk and bully, like he had any room to talk), but his mother was much more of a mystery. Even Hagrid, as kind as he was, had only known his parents in passing, though he'd still liked them very much and given Harry copies of all his group photos with them.
"No," Snape said angrily before his shoulders abruptly dropped and he released a long sigh full of discarded thoughts, his eyes going unfocused as if suddenly seeing something from the past. A mirthless laugh escaped his lips and he shook his head. "Or perhaps yes. Perhaps you are somewhat like her and," his voice dropped to an incredulous whisper, "even harder to believe, perhaps somewhat like me." Harry jerked in shock. "I had not let myself see, had not wanted to see… but somehow... yes." Red swept up Snape's cheeks as if he'd taken a fever and thoughts churned behind his dark eyes as he examined Harry from foot to crown.
The air quivered with tension as if something momentous was about to happen, though Harry knew not what. Unnerved, Harry swallowed and stood straighter under the inspection, releasing his wrist with a painful rush of blood. He nervously straightened his robes and neatened the fall of his green and silver tie. Snape's eyes snapped to the motion and caught, mouth falling open and then snapping shut on words that Harry was almost glad he hadn't spoken, going by the look in the older man's eyes, a look that made hair rise on the back of Harry's neck.
"Professor?" Harry finally said when the silence went on too long and he couldn't stand it anymore.
Snape ran his eyes from Harry's black hair, past his scar, paused for a moment on the green eyes behind round frames, and then settled on his Slytherin tie, gaze going unfocused. When Snape spoke it was through barely moving lips that Harry had to lean forward and strain to hear, despite standing so close. "Yes, you are a Slytherin, aren't you?" The words hissed out on the merest puff of air, like thoughts escaping under too much pressure. "Her child a Slytherin...and mine now. Not a lion and not his…. All that is left of her…mine. Perhaps..."
Harry had never seen such a complicated look on Snape's face before. He had no idea how to read it and didn't know if he wanted to. It was cruel, vindictive, and possessive, yet somehow also gentle, sad, and sweet, like something in his heart was both softening and sharpening at the same time. It was not a safe expression. A shiver went down Harry's spine and goosebumps sprung up across his skin.
"Professor Snape?" Harry said, not knowing what else to say.
Before the sound of Harry's words had even faded from the air, Snape's face had blanked and then shifted into something neutral. "Harry Potter." For the first time in memory Snape spoke with the emphasis on Harry's first name instead of his last. He didn't know if the change was good or bad.
Then Snape gave Harry a curt nod, turned on his heel, and walked away.
Heart dropping, Harry stared after him with disappointment. He sighed and scrubbed a hand across his face. Well, that had failed. Miserably. He'd have to watch out for Snape even more now that he had exposed so many weaknesses without anything to show for it. Great. Just great.
Fisting a hand into his hair, he tried to think. Maybe he could try asking Professor McGonagall? She sometimes seemed to have a soft spot for him because of his parents and Hermione was one of her favorite students. Or he could get his invisibility cloak tomorrow as soon as they let him back in his room and use it to sneak into the infirmary. It would push his apology back by a day, but better a day late than not at all. He would keep his promise.
"Are you coming or not?" Snape snapped over his shoulder from down the hall.
Harry jumped and stared at him in confusion. "What?"
"To apologize to your friend," Snape said slowly like Harry was both stupid and hard of hearing.
"Yes!" Harry scrambled after him, barely believing his good luck and not willing to question it in case Snape changed his mind again just as inexplicably. "Thank you, please!"
AN: Happy New Year friends! May 2021 be ever so much better than 2020 for everyone, though 2020 wasn't all bad. It brought me this story and some new readers, so yay for that!
My daughter finally lost her first tooth too this week, though she got upset at me yesterday and it took forever to get her to tell me that it was because she expected a lost tooth party and was sad she hadn't gotten one. We never did that for her older brother, and I did get excited for her and we drew a picture for the tooth fairy and I gave her some soda, but obviously that wasn't enough. I'm not even sure what a tooth party entails.
Writing some scenes is easy and other big scenes that I've pictured over and over in my head are really difficult to get out onto the page. This scene with Snape was like that. I hope it lived up to what I dreamed it could be. A scene in the next chapter is doing the same thing to me—resisting because the words on the screen keep stuttering clumsily instead of flowing into what I know they should be based on my imaginings.
Next chapter we see Harry visiting a petrified Hermione in the infirmary. Is he in for a quick, one-sided conversation? Or will something unexpected happen? *wink* Also, Hermione got petrified in this story a lot earlier than in canon. Here it's the last weekend of February and in canon it looks like it happened in early May. I don't know how or if this will affect my current plan. Hmm. For those of you who are worried, Hermione still has a very large part to play in how second year falls out and in the defeat of the basilisk. :D
Thank you to my very helpful and hardworking beta readers — Iforgottocall and dizzysappedweak! Any mistakes are mine despite their best efforts to get me to consistently capitalize wizarding terms.
