Thank you again for all the reviews!

Chapter Six—Offers

"Have a seat, Mr. Potter."

Dumbledore's voice was low and somewhat sad. Harry barely managed to hold back a shrug as he sat in one of the overstuffed chairs across from the desk. A quick glance told him that Nott was taking the chair next to his, and that Dumbledore probably didn't intend to toss the git out.

The glance at Nott turned into one around the office, because Harry hadn't been here before, and it was stunning. The whirling silver instruments alone made Harry's fingers itch to investigate them and see what kind of magic they ran on. The walls were covered with books that were probably older than most of the ones in the Hogwarts library. And there was a perch with a phoenix sitting on it, bright scarlet head cocked at Harry. Harry nodded to it and then focused on the Headmaster.

Dumbledore took a deep breath and put his hands together in front of him. Harry half-braced himself. He would be accused of attacking Snape, he knew. He would defend himself, but it would be a detention at the very least.

"I am sorry," Dumbledore began.

Huh? Harry was afraid he was gaping, and did his best to shut his mouth, only to find it already closed. He swallowed a little and ended up coughing. "I—don't understand what you mean, sir."

"I never knew that Professor Snape's admonishments of you were so severe that they could produce such strong and defensive accidental magic."

Accidental magic? That hadn't been the defense Harry intended to use—he would have relied on the nature of his wards and the fact that they wouldn't act unless Snape did something to provoke them—and he only stared at Dumbledore.

It was probably better to say nothing, though. Harry had found refuge in silence for many years. He intended to use it now.

Albus looked at the boy sitting across from him with a sense of weariness settling on his shoulders that he hadn't felt since he looked at Ariana's body.

How had he missed this? How he had he missed the growth of Severus's enmity to the point that he would try to attack the boy? Albus couldn't even blame the backfiring of Severus's spell on his oath; that would have allowed him to injure, although not kill, Mr. Potter. And all Harry's professors had reported that he wasn't particularly gifted in his classes, which meant that it couldn't have been any spell young Harry had done.

So Albus knew it was accidental magic. No child should have experienced such fear and anger that their power would strike out like that in a public setting, but Harry had not had a normal childhood or a normal adolescence.

"I—I didn't know that you would take that view of it, sir," Harry said at last, fiddling with the green tie around his throat, the one that Severus must have taken exception to. It was the only thing that fit with Harry's anger and embarrassment removing Severus's robes. "I thought you would—"

"Condemn you without a trial?" Albus smiled, trying to urge Harry to smile along with him, but Harry just looked solemn. Albus sighed. "I am capable of listening to both sides of the story, Mr. Potter."

"Of course, sir."

But Harry was still looking at his lap as if he didn't believe it. Albus shot a quick glance at young Mr. Nott. The boy was scowling at his lap, too, and biting his lip hard.

Albus wondered why he had come. Did he think he would need to be a character witness for Severus? If so, that was probably why he was angry now, at hearing that Albus didn't intend to punish Harry.

Albus turned back to Harry and made his voice as soothing as he could. He didn't want his office to blow up, either. "I am sorry for ignoring the years of torment that Professor Snape inflicted on you, Mr. Potter. I know that you no longer take Potions and do not have to interact with him in the classroom. But I wondered if you would be interested in trying on the Sorting Hat again, so that you do not have to deal with him as your Head of House, either."

Harry's head flew up, and his eyes widened. There was so much surprise and what Albus thought was cautious hope in the back of them. "I—what, sir? I thought no one was allowed to try it on more than once."

Albus chuckled and turned to pick up the Hat from the shelf behind him. In truth, he was experiencing his own version of cautious hope. If Harry was in Gryffindor, then Albus would be able to trust him with more secrets, since he wouldn't be constantly surrounded by Death Eaters' children. Perhaps even give him James's cloak without worrying that someone was about to steal it.

"I think that these are unusual circumstances," he said, and held the Hat out. "Please, Mr. Potter, humor an old man who played his own part in your troubles."

Harry reached for the Hat slowly, feeling as if he was moving underwater. There was once a time when he would have given anything to be Sorted into Gryffindor. He still often thought of how much easier his life would have been.

And Ron had been looking at him from the Gryffindor table. They weren't friends now, but the memories of the day they had been comforted Harry all the time. Maybe there was a chance they could resume it for at least a few months if Harry joined Gryffindor.

But…

Harry swallowed and put the Hat on his head, not wanting to think the thoughts. It didn't fall over his eyes the way it had when he was eleven.

Hello, Mr. Potter, the Hat whispered into his head. It's not often that I get a chance to speak a second time with someone who isn't a school official.

You said I would make my real friends in Slytherin, Harry thought back, as fiercely as he could. You were an idiot.

The Hat rustled as if uneasy. I did make a mistake, Mr. Potter, and for that, I am sorry. I should have heeded your pleas to go somewhere other than Slytherin. But you are a different person now than you were at eleven, are you not?

Harry swallowed and nodded. He ignored Dumbledore's curious gaze and what felt like a piercing one from Nott. A lot more ruthless. A lot worse.

A lot more practical, I would say. And there are goals that you have decided on and that nothing will prevent you from reaching. That seems ambitious to me.

Harry smiled a little grimly. So?

"SLYTHERIN!" said the Hat.

Harry took it off and handed it back to the Headmaster, who was watching him with something like sorrow. "I think it'll be all right, sir," he said as calmly as he could. "I'll keep my interactions with Professor Snape to a minimum. If you tell him to stay away from me and give my detentions to someone else if I earn them, then things should be all right."

Professor Dumbledore nodded slowly and put the Hat back on its shelf. "All right, Mr. Potter. I did want to mention that my office is open to you if you ever need to speak with me." He gave Harry a heavy glance.

Harry wasn't sure what that was supposed to mean. He sat and smiled until Dumbledore waved a hand and said something about how Snape would stay away from him from now on, and then he stood up and left.

Nott walked beside him in absolute silence, at least until they had put a couple of corridors between them and the gargoyle outside Dumbledore's office. "Why do you think he wanted to Sort you into another House?" he asked.

Harry shrugged. Ordinarily, he wouldn't have answered, but Nott had saved him from getting hit with a bunch of wooden shrapnel and was weird enough that not answering him might mean something worse happened. "Some of it probably was that he thought I would be better off away from Snape. And some of it might be because he thinks I was supposed to be a Gryffindor, like a lot of people thought my first year."

"You're the perfect Slytherin. I can't see why anyone would think you would ever fit in Gryffindor."

Nott's voice had a strange sound. Harry turned around and narrowed his eyes at him. "Yeah, I can't see why anyone would think that the House I've been an outcast in for six years wasn't the perfect fit for me."

Nott looked at the floor. "I'm sorry for that."

"You can't apologize for other people's actions, so don't try."

"I wasn't. I was still apologizing for mine."

Harry shook his head. "Just—go away, Nott." And he turned and walked down the corridor, relieved when Nott didn't try to follow.

Theo stood where he was and took slow, deep breaths, closing and opening his fists in a regular pattern that Father had taught him to control himself.

The mere thought of someone taking Potter away and putting him in a different House was…distressing.

Theo would have to figure out why and also how to control his reactions. But for now, he stood still and let himself see, over and over again, the operations of what could only be wards on Professor Snape.

Intent-based wards were common, of course. But they usually needed Runes or at least Arithmancy, and to be anchored hours ahead of time.

Potter seemed to have been keeping wards with him that weren't anchored but were triggered, primed to go off in Snape's face. He seemed to have left his tie sloppy on purpose.

If he had done all that…

It spoke to a level of foresight and planning that Theo hadn't known he had. And it spoke to a level of confidence that had certainly increased since Theo had confronted him about his wandless magic in the library.

It also spoke to a complete flattening of the laws of magical theory concerning wards that Theo was familiar with.

Theo ended up shaking his head. At the moment, he didn't think he could do anything that would help him understand Potter or help Potter without his knowing, either. It was best to back off and continue to work on his project of apologizing to people who would accept it. Longbottom was next.

Harry turned around with Transfiguration books in his arms, and recoiled so hard that he almost dropped them.

There was a letter in a plain white envelope with a discreet red seal on it sitting on his library table. The table was still contained in wards of Harry's own design, and no one could have bypassed them without his knowing. Not even an owl could have done it.

Harry waved his hand, and his wandless magic caught the letter and turned it over. The envelope then got subjected to all the detection charms that Harry could bring to bear on it. He was looking for hostile intent, curses, and poison, but also for some sign of how it had got past the wards.

The only result he got was a brief, blurry blast of blue light that didn't tell him anything, and oddly had been the response to one of the spells to find out how the envelope had got past the wards. Harry shook his head, let the letter fall to rest on the table, and drew up one of the wards in front of him to shield himself. Then he flipped a hand to open the letter, noting that the red seal bore what looked like a rearing cobra.

Nothing exploded out of it. A piece of folded parchment was the only thing that it contained. Harry frowned and floated it up in front of him, then brought it closer, although he left it on the other side of the ward.

Dear Mr. Potter, it began, in a flowing sort of hand that Harry was pretty sure he'd never seen before.

Reports have come to me of your intense use of magic against Professor Severus Snape in the middle of the Great Hall. Most people seem convinced it was accidental magic. But I believe it might have been a ward. Perhaps something like this?

Harry studied the circle of runes on the parchment with narrowed eyes. Yes, that might have been the sort someone else would use to create a ward like his.

Harry had used plain will and intent, building on a simpler ward that could be cast as an incantation, but other people could achieve the same thing different ways.

He went back to reading the letter.

To build and hold such wards in check, to make them portable, is an astonishing feat in one so young. I feel that it would be to our benefit to meet. I am an accomplished wardmaster myself. I could take you on as an apprentice or recommend you to someone who would. I understand that you might not want to stay in Britain, after the way it has treated you. Luckily, I have international connections.

You will be rightly wary of this offer. For that reason, if you send me back a letter agreeing to meet, I will send you a parchment with an oath signed in my own blood swearing not to harm you during our meeting or on your way to or from it. I have no doubt that a wardmaster of your strength would manage to use my own blood against me in unpleasant ways even if I did not break the oath, so I will give you no reason to do so.

If you agree to meet, simply place your left thumb over my signature. If you want more information, use the right. I look forward to hearing from you.

Sincerely,
Wardmaster Tom Marvolo Riddle.

Harry stared at the letter some more. He could believe that someone would have reported the scene in the Great Hall to their parents, but why the parents would reach out to a wardmaster, he had no idea.

Unless this Riddle had a child at Hogwarts himself and knew that way? It was possible, Harry had to admit. He didn't even know everyone in Slytherin all that well, let alone people in other Houses or years. That was a natural consequence of keeping his head down so much and being isolated.

If this man did have international connections…

On the other hand, all Harry knew about him was what was stated in the letter. He didn't even know for sure if a blood oath on parchment worked the way the letter said it did. He would have to research that.

Harry did the cautious thing, the Slytherin thing, and pressed his right thumb over the signature. The letter flashed once, turning as bright red as a Howler for a moment, and then disappeared.

Harry sighed and slapped the Transfiguration books he still held onto the library table. International offer or not, he still had to study for his NEWTS.

But the idea lingered in the back of his mind, distrust that he could have drawn positive attention outside the school and unrelated to his fame crossbreeding with the hope that he had.