Chapter 14 : Toeing Lines
Joined dinners with his guardian in the dungeons have become scarce since Harry started Hogwarts. Severus staunchly believes in independence and expressed on multiple occasions that it is a good habit for Harry to take meals in the Great Hall with members of Gryffindor House. Not as a replacement family, but to properly socialise and become a 'functional member of society'. More than a few times during these kinds of talks, Harry bit his tongue about Severus' own habit of holing himself up. Though to be entirely fair, he's one of Hogwarts' teachers who indeed regularly sits at the staff table during breakfast and dinner both. Even the old Snape, who'd been decidedly less popular amongst both student body and staff, had done so and not made himself as scarce as Professors Trelawney, Vector or Sinistra.
Not that Severus can boast popularity per se – his distanced nature and clear favouritism won't see him on the candidate list of most beloved teacher - but he isn't quite as feared as in Harry's first life. Being surrounded with a truly supportive network throughout his teenage years and being mellowed by Harry's and Sirius' presence have done some good.
Today, it is this mellowness that makes his godfather break with principle. After potion class, Severus extended an invitation to take dinner together in his quarters. It sounded like an order, one Harry didn't see any reason to protest.
''I'm starving,'' the teen announces to break the tense silence before any can take hold, dumping his school bag next to 'his' chair.
''You know very well where the coat rack is,'' Severus remarks, lips lifting into a wry smile. ''My, have your new friends turned you in a mannerless Gryffindor this quickly? Hardly one term has passed.''
''It's called a coat rack for a reason,'' Harry counters even as his godfather's unimpressed, stern gaze makes him dutifully pick the bag up and sling the strap around one of the hooks. ''Also, over half of second term is done with. Barely a few weeks until the Easter holidays start. Do we have anything planned over the holidays, by the way? Sirius didn't mention anything in particular…''
''Nothing in the sense of social events. Pad mentioned wanting to take you to a match-''
''-Pad?''
Even in the light of flickering torches and the green glow so typical for the Hogwarts dungeons, Harry can tell a tinge of a blush rapidly spreads across his godfather's hollow cheeks.
''Padfoot,'' Severus clarifies with a mutter. ''He insisted on… never mind. Harrison, I had a reason to take supper with you besides catching up.''
''I figured,'' he shrugs, resisting the urge to plant his elbows on the table. Gryffindor manners indeed do rub off fast. Or maybe it's an old habit coming back with frightening speed. ''The attacks, I assume? Don't worry, I'm careful not to be caught alone anywhere, just like McGonagall instructed. Apart from today, I guess,'' he adds thoughtfully, not having asked anyone to accompany him on the trek to Severus' quarters. ''It felt a bit arbitrary as my last class today was Transfiguration, which is basically around the corner. Using my shortcuts anyways.''
''Have you seen anything odd on that map of yours?'' Severus gets straight to the point, skipping over the open invitation to rant about recklessness.
An interesting idea but again, Harry prefers not to draw attention to himself in the midst of these events. Plus, even if Slytherin's monster had truly gotten loose, there shouldn't be anything strange on the map, right? Fred and George had made use of the Marauder's map during Harry's second year. He doubts those menaces wouldn't have investigated a strange name floating through walls, if only to get a kick out of it. ''No, nothing,'' he truthfully answers, waiting patiently as his godfather dishes up the first course: a clear vegetable soup that looks healthier than it does tasty. Harry reserves his judgement; Severus has a wicked way with spices. ''In light of the latest incident with Finch-Fletchley, I'd have notified you when spotting anything remotely strange. Do you have any clue what is going on? There's been talk of the heir of Slytherin and well… you are the Head of Slytherin house…''
''Is that an accusation?'' Severus asks, face entirely serious for a second before it cracks into a grin.
They both chuckle over their soup - which really tastes much better than its appearance let on – and for good measure, Harry rolls his eyes. ''As if you of all people would uphold the standards of blood purity rather than tear those down. Doesn't Malfoy still send the Headmaster weekly Howlers about how inappropriate it is to have a Muggle-born sympathiser as Head of his prestigious house? No, what I meant is… isn't there some secret Slytherin library or ancient knowledge passed down from Head to Head? If even Binns and McGonagall know about the Chamber of Secrets, surely you…''
''If there is anything more, it's been denied to me. Perhaps because of my own blood status. Slytherin tolerated Half-bloods in his house out of necessity, that doesn't mean he was enthusiastic about it.''
Harry was silent until finishing the first course, struggling to put his questions into words. ''Why do you take so much pride in your House? This may be out of place coming from a Gryffindor like myself but… Slytherin house was literally created to be excluding, secretive, born out of ideals of division between mages. You've said yourself that you didn't get along with many of your peers due to differences in tolerance. So why do you defend your students more than others? Why take this position at all?''
''Harrison… Salazar Slytherin was one man. A very flawed wizard who unfortunately did form the basis of the less ideal sides of the House he left behind. What I consider to be House Slytherin is not only his legacy. It's the legacy of all whose ambition lifted them up out of the crowd. Those who made a life or career out of nothing. Even those who used magic others wouldn't touch to create mind-boggling inventions, spells or philosophies. I love that side of the place I called home and hope to hone the hidden brilliance I see in exactly those students who were unfortunately already blinded by prejudice due to their environment.
I accepted the offer to become Head of this House because I am considered less than by some of my Pure-blooded peers. It's a fine line between battling against having my students embrace the negative stereotype that clings to Slytherin and being an example of that pure blood is not necessary to encompass the traits of ambition and cunning that are valued here. I cannot change all – the spells on the Sorting Hat will not allow it to directly go against Salazar Slytherin's wishes by sorting Muggle-borns into this house – but I hope my approach can make a difference.''
If they would have had this talk a year ago, before Harry started Hogwarts, maybe he would have reconsidered the Sorting Hat's offer. Not that he regrets joining the lions again. Gryffindor Tower will always be his first true home and he is immensely thankful for the chance of living there for another year.
''I'm sure you can,'' Harry encourages with a sudden wave of paternal feelings. He should really stop projecting on the adults-who-are-technically-younger-than-he. Thank Merlin that Voldemort is still older, even if their mental age gap is significantly smaller than it used to be. The last thing he needs is an urge to raise his Intended.
Thankfully, Severus rather quickly turns the conversation around, once more ensuring Harry is okay, asking about daily life and whether his grades have suffered from the commotion (they wouldn't have even if Harry hadn't been the one behind the petrifications, considering the basic level of magic and theory that is taught in first-year classes). Thankfully, he can calm his godfather's worries enough that they resume talk of the upcoming holidays instead of possible lurking monsters. The talk drifts to their planned family addition, then, Harry tentatively asking for updates.
''The request is 'being processed' last we heard,'' Severus sighs. ''Having raised you and Sirius belonging to an old and wealthy family helps pave the way, but there's many hurdles to battle still, most to do with 'interfering in Muggle law'. Miss Granger is still considered a citizen of the Muggle world and erasing her paper trail there before she is seventeen is a logistic mess. Sirius hopes to hurry the process along using his connections at the Ministry… We shall see, he doesn't have many contacts in the departments responsible for this. Regardless of legal matters, Miss Granger is naturally welcome to stay with us whenever you wish, summer holidays and trips included. Which brings us to that Quidditch match Sirius booked…''
''Right! Which match did he get tickets for?'' Harry asks, excited to watch a professional Quidditch team at work.
''Ballycastle Bats against the Montrose Magpies.'' The disinterested tone does nothing to bring down Harry's mood when hearing the competing teams, who won last year's league on first and second place respectively. It may be only the start of the new season, these two giants being pitted against each other will be just as spectacular as last year's finale, which Harry had missed due to it taking place before the Christmas holidays. ''He bought three tickets… one of which I hope is meant for Miss Granger, as you can only drag me along on your birthday. She'll be joining us again for Easter, I assume?''
''If it's really alright with the both of you, I'd like to ask her to stay over the holidays again, yes. She's not shown a particular fondness for Quidditch or other broom sports so far, but that may be due to only seeing the Hogwarts teams. School sports is barely comparable.''
It still takes much convincing during the next couple of days for Hermione to agree taking that third ticket. Much longer than the offer to stay at Grimmauld again in either case. Christmas had been a blast to spend together, and Harry is convinced she's already found a place in Sirius' big bleeding heart. ''It's a shame I can't stay over all summer as well,'' she muses, then grimaces awkwardly. ''Not- not that I wish to impose on you. Or assume that I'm invited.''
His own bleeding heart maybe breaks a little at that, too. ''Of course you're invited all summer,'' he scoffs, ruffling her hair. ''That goes without saying.''
Her answering beaming lasts merely a second before the smile slips away. ''I'll gladly accept during my free weeks, but at the start of summer holidays there's always a trip planned by the orphanage. Some mandatory 'bonding' experience as they call it. Usually a week or two of camping or bus rides around the country to visit historic sites. It's not too bad, I just know I'll miss you a lot. Really got too used to performing magic everywhere as well,'' she wryly grins. ''It'll be difficult not to hex anyone who's rude to me.''
Perhaps she won't need to miss him at all, a thought he does not vocalise to not jinx it. He also sincerely hopes that regardless of the adoption being finalised by then, there'll indeed be an inviting Grimmauld Place left to welcome her back… Sometime during summer, Harry will have to come clean to his godfathers, after all. Living this lie forever won't be possible, and the only reason why he stayed at Hogwarts as long as he has is for the remaining artefacts he needs to fall into Harry's waiting hands.
It's not something he worries Hermione with now. Instead, he allows her to present him with a neat timetable of the remaining days at Hogwarts so they can plan their moves down to the hour. Hermione has come up with an entire code system of coloured dots so the calendar is useless to whomever casts a glance at it besides the two of them. The spells on it are rudimentary, allowing them only to flexibly change colours and move writing, but it's very impressive work for someone barely at half of their first year of Hogwarts.
When explaining it to an initially interested Hera – removing her blindfold for a few seconds while Hermione looks elsewhere), the little snake hems and haws until admitting it's too confusing, speedily fleeing into the mess of Harry's hair.
''Maybe I shouldn't have used colours she can't distinguish,'' Hermione sheepishly says. ''Snakes cannot see red, orange, pink and the like as we do. To her, most of these dots probably look very similar. Should I modify the chart?''
''I'm sure she got the gist of it and will go where we tell her to,'' Harry shrugs, reaching up so the tiny tail that wasn't tucked away completely can securely curl around his finger.
They agree on one more petrification victim before Easter, and Hermione determines it's be best to get a ghost this time: it'll show the threat isn't over while at the same time not adding pressure on Dumbledore's shoulders from the side of outcrying parents or the School Board of Governors. They do not wish much to change over the Easter holidays and going into third term.
The news of Peeves being petrified a few days before the Easter holidays indeed barely puts a damper on everyone's cheer. In fact, it's the first attack that, despite the underlying threat, more students seem happy about than frightened. Harry claps his friend on the back for her genius idea that gets rid of the snooping Poltergeist as a bonus. After Mrs Norris couldn't disrupt Harry's nightly strolls through Hogwarts anymore, only Peeves had been an annoyance still. Although the Poltergeist did show up on the Marauder's map just the same as Filch or teachers that Harry could expertly avoid, he was much tricker to evade due to the pesky ability of ghosts to glide through walls and floors.
Now, there's only humans and far more passive ghosts left to dodge when Harry needs to get to forbidden parts of the castle, a relief when taking his upcoming hunt for the Philosopher Stone into account.
In typical nonsense Hogwarts fashion, the Petrification threat is handled in abysmally stupid ways with teachers being assigned to protect their students during the trip home, also travelling by train. Why, when all three incidents so far were within the castle's walls is anyone's guess. If the Basilisk had truly been awakened, Harry would have considered getting actually upset about it since this would mean the few students staying over at Hogwarts would be at a greater risk. As it stands, with himself and Hermione being the perpetrators, he shoves any exasperation aside quickly in favour of nagging Severus into sitting in the same compartment as Hermione and him.
The trip is far more interesting than the ride before and after Christmas had been. Spending nearly every day together with Hermione, there are too few topics left to discuss to fill the hours, so Harry had instead listened to the other kids rambling about their time at school. Of the lot, only Neville is truly bearable, the rest caught up in catty drama. Parvati and Lavender currently aren't speaking to each other, Ron somehow convinced Dean to be his best friend as they bonded over sports, and Gethin, one of the additions to Gryffindor Harry hadn't known in his old life, trails behind both of those boys while at the same time refusing to join Ron's accusations against Harry and Hermione 'obviously' cheating in class as Gethin does not want to miss out on Harry's homework tips.
The drama is the part he won't miss when leaving. It's such a relief to speak to Severus instead, who still has no issue discussing topics with Harry that many of the other children find so boring that they leave the compartment quickly, from advanced potions to current politics. The man doesn't speak of anything that would allude to Voldemort's return but then again, Severus might not have the right contacts for any such rumours to reach him.
''The government sounds truly dysfunctional,'' Hermione chimes in, extracting her nose from 'Thousand magical herbs and fungi' ''What I haven't fully grasped is the precise amount of influence they have on Hogwarts. According to 'Hogwarts, A history', Headmistresses and -masters have so far always appointed teachers for example, yet somehow the Ministry could demand that Lockhart was granted the position of Defence teacher this year?''
Severus hums at the question. ''There's always a struggle between the staff, the Department of magical education and the School Board of Governors. It does not help that at least half of the latter are involved in or even employed by the Ministry in different positions. Take Lucius Malfoy…''
The feud between Malfoy and Severus is possibly greater than the one between Malfoy and Arthur Weasley, Harry muses as he listens to Severus' rantings about the way Malfoy attempts to pull power away from anyone who does not agree to the ideas of 'old blood'.
When none other than the three Malfoys show up in the same VIP box at the Quidditch match between the Bats and the Magpies, Harry thus figures it was a good move for Severus to stay home, even if for different reasons. The snobbish family may also have their problems with Sirius but will never dare be anything but civil to Lord Black in public. Narcissa and Sirius even have a – somewhat strained – relationship based on mutual politeness.
With the box devoid of underhanded insults, Harry can forget all about the Malfoys in favour of concentrating on the thrilling Quidditch game. He's missed seeing the speed, the reckless agility of the professionals that are such a far cry from the bumbling of most players at Hogwarts. Letting all care about schemes, war and magical artefacts slide away, he enthusiastically shouts along with his godfather, leaning over the railing as he captures everything on his Omniscope.
''See?'' he breathlessly tells Hermione, adjusting the one he bought for her earlier. ''If you watch this move back in slow-motion, you can clearly see how she didn't even touch her broom for a moment. A jump into free fall to dodge a Bludger, how amazing is that? Literally soared unaided for a moment until making contact with the broom again.''
''Your enthusiasm is contagious,'' Hermione laughs, fiddling with the settings by herself now. ''Alright alright, I get what you mean. Much better than the Hogwarts standard.''
In sharp contrast to his hyped mood, Harry oddly catches himself drift off just shy of twenty minutes since the start of the match. He shakes it off the first time, figuring it must be remaining exhaustion from not sleeping too well the night before. When it happens a second time, he pays more attention to the way a fog clouds his mind for a second, then slides off the Occlumency barriers he always keeps up tight, as if someone is throwing slick oil at the back of his head, hoping it will stick.
Harry very much attempts to keep up the act of being invested in the game still, waving the Ballycastle flags wildly when a Quaffle breaks through the Magpie's defence. In reality, he is busy thinking of a way to duck out of here, for both the spell and the magic of its caster are painfully familiar.
''I need to go to the loo for a sec,'' he yells into Sirius' ear so the man hears it through the roaring of the crowd. ''Be back in a bit, hold this?'' he tells Hermione at the same volume, pushing his Omniscope into her hands. Both only nod vaguely in answer, too caught up in the match now to take notice.
Slipping away is easy with all eyes elsewhere. Harry doesn't exactly know where to search yet figures that if Voldemort is close enough to cast a fucking Imperius, it can't be far. With quick strides, Harry stomps down the wooden stairs in the back and-
-is met with utter darkness.
Not the same shadowy type of darkness one expects from the dimly lit scaffolding leading up to the seating area in the Quidditch pit, where only a trickling of sunrays penetrates the tangle of wooden beams and draped cloth. No, it is all-embracing like a starless night.
''Were you on a trip to Peru?'' Harry airily asks, unsuccessfully attempting to wave the inky fog away with his bare hand. Not that he'd have more luck with a wand, instant darkness powder is a powerful tool. As if a piece of black fabric has been wrapped around his eyes in a similar fashion to Hera's blindfold.
If Harry's every instinct wasn't already screaming out in warning, he might have been surprised by the murmur originating from an invisible spot about an inch away from the shell of his ear. Close enough that a puff of cold breath caresses his skin, travelling down any part of his neck that isn't covered by messy hair. ''I may have been… You are familiar with this resource, then? Was it used to hide from Muggles?''
Harry carefully turns his head to the right, just enough not to collide with the face that must be right next to his. With a bitter smile, he discloses: ''Two of my friends started importing this stuff to England and rapidly increased its popularity, especially when you and your followers started another war.''
He isn't worried about anyone overhearing this conversation. If Voldemort had the time to make his way here unseen through use of darkness powder, he'll have had time to raise privacy barriers.
''The timing meant that our reserves of it dwindled rapidly in the years that followed. The association meant that no-one wanted the stuff after, a reminder of harsh times and suffering. We had barely a couple of pinches left when the Muggles effectively cut our communication and supply lines to other countries.''
''In that case, remind me to hoard it. I cannot afford it to be used against me.'' Voldemort's voice drifts further away, the cold retreating just the same.
That is his takeaway from this conversation?
''Why are you here? I don't recall any avid interest in Quidditch.''
The blackness finally fades, the shapes of beams framing the tall, hooded man towering over him. Alright, he didn't move as far away as Harry had assumed. One step and they'll practically be pressed chest-to-chest.
''You know very well I wasn't drawn here by Bludgers and brooms.''
''I fail to see another reason. It's not as if you cannot contact me at Hogwarts,'' he points out. ''There was no mention of anything that you would need me personally for… is there?'' He briefly considers whether to voice his disapproval over Voldemort attempting to get Harry's attention through casting an Imperius curse, then thinks better of it. If he wants answers, there's little use in picking arguments that can be talked about after knowing what the Dark Lord is visiting for.
Voldemort carefully readjusts his long sleeves and shifts his weight. ''There was a single point of oversight in our arrangement. Or perhaps on my end it might be more accurate to name it an overestimation of my resilience. Tell me: having lived your first life as my enemy, presumably not being in my immediate vicinity for long stretches of time and resigning yourself to that fate for years following my demise… How did you handle the deterioration?''
Oh. Oh.
Harry does step closer now, if only to calculatingly peer under the hood that covers so much of Voldemort's face. His expression isn't fully visible either way, but the lines near his eyes and tight set of his mouth is unmistakable. Fatigue. Strain.
His gaze shifts to the soul mark and Harry has to pour all willpower into not leaning in to touch it.
Their last conversation, a kiss on the back of his hand, the implication of returning the gesture during their next farewell…
He does not wish to lie, not again. Fabricating a tale of how he had shouldered the weight of an unfulfilled soul-bond all through his first life would be so disingenuous that Harry would no longer be able to look his Intended in the eye. ''I didn't handle anything in my life,'' he replies instead. ''I only kept running.''
One ugly truth to cover his inability to help. He had run: from memories, from connections, from a myriad of enemies. The only time he'd stopped and actively took responsibility, Harry had ended up being burdened with the death of their only true saviour. ''I can't help you.''
Cold fingers curl around the back of his neck, jerking Harry closer so he stumbles against the man's chest. ''If you cannot aid me with advice, then do so in simpler ways,'' Voldemort whispers, fingers trembling from the force of his desperate grip.
Harry complies, forcing his breath to slow down as he wraps both arms around a thin, bony waist. Perhaps perversely, the Dark Lord's state causes giddiness to rise to the surface. Seeing just how much Harry's absence affects the other is oddly fulfilling. He is needed, and his Intended recognises this without a fight, searching Harry out to mend the unravelling of Voldemort's magic. Harry cannot imagine it to have been easy for the man to admit, after having been independent for decades.
Should he point out that physical contact is not necessary for their bond to stabilise?
Shouldn't Voldemort know this?
''Why do I not feel the same stress as you do?'' he asks to break the silence. ''Upon rebirth, my magic stayed as it was. Any mature core should start deteriorating when not strengthened by their other half after meeting, shouldn't it?''
Considering he is lucky enough to feel the bond when calmly concentrating, it's strange that Harry has had no ill effects from being apart, neither before nor after Voldemort's resurrection.
''There's a bit more to it,'' Voldemort mutters, sighing deeply as his stress ebbs away. The plainly audible relief touches something in Harry's chest. ''Many circumstances play a factor in how strong these effects are, or if they show at all. When it comes to you… shortly after you revealed yourself to me, I assessed your core and was astonished by its size. I personally have many reserves and know how to be careful not to deplete them regardless of how taxing the spells I choose should be. Nevertheless, I do not have your natural storage of wild magic. The most likely explanation for this is your method of travelling back in time. You rebirthed into this body, a body that should already have had a soul and a magical core ready to expand with experience as you woke seconds after the actual birth. Souls are far more likely to merge than they are to usurp.''
''You mean… I merged with the soul of my past self?''
''It would explain much. Your mind is undeniably that of an adult, yet your soul, your magic has traits usually reserved for either a mature or an immature core. The Trace is a perfect example: it would never have applied to you had your core been mature in all ways.''
''As much as I would love to delve deeper into this theory… seeking me out during a Quidditch match wasn't an ideal opportunity for long talks,'' Harry reluctantly comments, arms falling to his sides again. ''I told my godfather and friend I'd quickly go to the loo, they'll expect me back any minute now.'' He very much ignores his own instincts that make Harry wish to remain here just a little bit longer.
''I'll accompany you into the stands,'' the other is quick to suggest, plucking something out of deep pockets before Harry can protest. ''We both know this was far too little shared time to counter the effects of being apart for months.'' Two vials are dangled in front of his face. ''Zacharias Smith, a Hufflepuff from your year or Cormac McLaggen, a Gryffindor one year above you?''
It does not take long to catch onto the plan. It does take another minute to calm his inner rage about the choice of disguise.
''I. despise. both of those guys,'' he asserts through clenched teeth.
This is, naturally, not enough to deter a Dark Lord so at the end of his tether that he pays his soul mate a visit the minute Harry enters the public space again, for the sole purpose of achieving propinquity.
''Pity, there's no other Hogwarts student who isn't already here today whom Quirrell procured hairs of. Which one do you despise least? Preferably little enough to introduce to your family?''
Introduce as what? Harry thinks as he with great reluctance decides: ''Smith. If any of this goes so horribly wrong that I need to deal with the real one, Smith will be less obnoxious than McLaggen.''
This is bound to go south, he mentally adds when Voldemort takes a set of smaller robes out of a black satchel and sprinkles the hairs into a vial of Polyjuice.
And yet, that same giddiness as before returns when his Intended carefully takes hold of Harry's elbow and guides him back up the stairs.
AN: Voldemort just couldn't stay away :3
I also got a bit of a confusing review, asking why Harry was not born with a soul mark but received it from a curse. Harry was born with a soul mark: a tattoo of a red eye on the back of his hand. It's a pretty significant part spoken about in his early life, and hidden by the adults around him.
In turn, Voldemort got a silver tattoo of Harry's scar (which did not yet exist then) as soon as Harry was born. Hope that clears things up.
As for the second question in the same review: Harry did not ask Voldemort to rally every wizard to war against muggles in unison. He asked for the protection from/eradication of muggles in whichever way possible. Whether other mages will agree to this, or even know about it until it's too late is not really a priority for Harry.
Please let me know your thoughts!
xx GeMerope