Seven Drops and Asphodel Blooms
Summary: When Harry blows up his aunt during the summer, Dumbledore is much quicker to react. Snape finds him far before the Minister does, but his plan of dropping him off with a lecture and half a dozen additional summer assignments doesn't work out.
In which Harry spends the summer at Spinner's End.
Chapter 21
Harry told Ron and Hermione what had happened following their visit to Grimmauld Place, only leaving out how Snape and Sirius had gotten the information from Kreacher. He still felt oddly uncomfortable thinking back on it.
"The locket must have belonged to You-Know-Who," Ron whispered. "Maybe it has special powers."
"You did say that Sirius' family owned lots of dark artifacts," Hermione said slowly. "I guess it could be true."
"It's gotta be! How else could they be connected?"
"If it really belonged to Voldemort," Harry ignored Ron's flinch, "how did Sirius' family get their hands on it?"
They spent some time speculating, but hadn't really gotten anywhere by the time Parvati Patil wandered up to them and pointed out the insistent tapping on the common room window.
"What's Hedwig doing here?" Ron frowned. "You think it's from Sirius?"
"I just saw him. Maybe something happened after we left…" Harry opened the window and gave Hedwig a thankful pat before accepting a small piece of parchment from her.
"So?" asked Hermione.
"Snape wants to talk to me." Harry's heart started to pound. After they'd come back to the castle, Snape had resolutely refused to take him along to the headmaster's office.
Even Ron – though grimacing – looked eager at the prospect of getting some answers. "You reckon he'll tell you what Dumbledore thinks?"
"Guess I'll find out." Harry prepared all sorts of arguments on why he ought to be kept in the loop on his way to the dungeons, up to and including that Voldemort had gone after him three times already and that if anybody deserved to know what was going on with him, it was Harry.
He'd already opened his mouth upon stepping into Snape's office, prepared to launch right into it, when Snape cut him off with a curt, "Spare me."
Harry scowled. "I deserve to know–"
"Seeing as I have likely said everything that you are about to tell me to Dumbledore already, do spare me a repeat."
That had Harry coming up short. "You mean you'll tell me?"
Snape crossed his arms and leaned against his desk instead of sitting down behind it. "I was intending to."
Harry was used to fighting for every scrap of information an adult would give him, but he still felt embarrassed. "Sorry," he muttered, taking a seat in his usual chair. "So what did you find out about the locket?"
Snape hesitated, which struck Harry as odd. He'd already said he wanted to fill him in, and he wasn't one to mince his words. Which had to mean…
"It's something bad," Harry said quietly. "Isn't it?"
"Quite." Snape gripped his collar with one hand, fiddling with it absent-mindedly. "Professor Dumbledore suggested it was too early to share it with you."
"Because I can't handle it?"
"Because he has not lost hope that his theory might prove to be incorrect, and does not wish to alarm you unnecessarily." He paused again.
Harry realized that Snape was giving him a chance to back out. "If there's a chance this has something to do with him, I want to know."
And so Harry learned about horcruxes, the splitting of a soul, and a wizard who might have left his humanity behind so as to no longer be subjected to the rules of life and death. By the end, Harry felt queasy. No wonder nobody had succeeded in defeating him, when he'd gone to such lengths to cling to life.
"Did you know about this?" Harry asked. "Before today, I mean?"
"I did not," Snape admitted. "Neither could I have explained horcruxes to you. The Dark Lord has never spoken of them."
Though surprised, Harry felt oddly relieved that this was not another thing Snape – and other people – had kept from him. It was still odd to hear him admit ignorance about anything. It must have been an obscure branch of magic, if even Snape had never heard of it.
"So Professor Dumbledore thinks the locket is a horcrux? That Voldemort made it?"
"Worse." Snape's mouth became very narrow. "He suspects that the Dark Lord might have made more than one."
Harry might have known about horcruxes for a grand total of five minutes, but the repulsion in Snape's voice was unmistakable. "But he doesn't know for sure?"
"As of now he does not. Hence his reluctance to inform you, seeing as he lacks concrete evidence."
"Okay," Harry said, trying hard not to forget any of what Snape was telling him. He felt like he was balancing a dozen different items on his head and doing his best not to drop any. "So how do we destroy it?"
"Professor Dumbledore believes that we must first find a way to open it."
Which Harry, Sirius, Remus and Snape had all tried and failed. Then again, if somebody could manage to find a solution, it would be Dumbledore.
"You said something about Sirius' brother."
"The headmaster has agreed to speak with Black personally and share what we've learned," Snape told him, the unique spark of irritation in his voice that was there whenever he was forced to acknowledge Sirius' existence. "Whether or not Black decides to share it with you afterwards is his decision."
Harry had no choice but to accept it. Sirius never talked much about his family. Harry hoped he'd make an exception this time.
But something else kept bothering him, much more so than Sirius' nameless brother. "How did you find out those things from Kreacher?"
Snape's brows knitted together. "Pardon?"
"How did you know there was a link between the locket and You-Know-Who?"
Understanding bloomed on Snape's face, and he started to explain. In contrast to the horcruxes, it sounded like Snape could tell him pretty much everything there was to know about Legilimency.
"You can just do that?" Harry asked, somewhat horrified at the implications of what he'd heard. "You could read my mind right now?"
"It is not as simple as the muggle term 'mind reading' suggests." Snape sounded miffed, like Harry reducing it to something so simple was insulting. "Were I to use the skill on you in any sort of depth, you would notice." He paused. "It is an immense breach of privacy to utilize it on a wizard."
Something bugged Harry about the way he'd said it. "But it was fine to do it to Kreacher?"
Snape's brows dipped low. "The house-elf?"
"He looked upset."
Snape scoffed. "You've heard Black. He's been left in that house on his own for so long, it is no wonder he is no longer of a sound mind."
If anything, those words made Harry feel worse. "Is there any way he could have stopped you?"
"Practically or theoretically?"
"Like, in general."
"There is a way to ward off even a skilled Legilimens," Snape said. "Though I doubt it would lie within the capabilities of a house-elf. If Legilimency is one half of a whole, then Occlumency is the other. It is the art to shield one's mind."
Harry's head was starting to swirl from all the new terms he was learning. "Are there many wizards who can do... that thing?"
"Legilimency," Snape said, narrowing his eyes, "is a highly difficult skill, and as such very rare. The Dark Lord himself is known to be a quite skilled Legilimens. Hence the truthful claim that it is all but impossible to lie to him."
If Harry had been disturbed before, it was nothing compared to now. "Are we going to be taught Occlu... Occlumency at school?"
"Occlumency is traditionally a skill taught only to seasoned, fully educated wizards."
"But if Voldemort can do it–"
"I did not say I would not be willing to guide you through the basics," Snape interrupted. "However, you will have to decide. You've already expressed your wish to study different subjects. We do not have time to cover everything at once."
Though a part of Harry wanted to argue that he'd be best prepared if he learned everything, the part that had spent hours upon hours during the summer brewing potions for even small improvement knew that he couldn't afford to pursue any of these things half-heartedly. If he wanted to learn, he would have to invest his time and effort. It wouldn't do to jump from one thing to the next without ever mastering anything.
He'd spent all his effort on the Patronus charm, and it had still taken him almost an entire school year to learn it.
"I'll think about it," Harry promised, vowing to consult his friends at the first opportunity.
The students from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang arrived the day before Halloween. Severus pretended not to notice Karkaroff's stolen glances at him throughout the feast.
Though many Death Eaters had forsaken their lord to avoid punishment, Karkaroff was not one who carried the betrayal well. His skin was sallow and his twitching, restless eyes spoke of a man who'd spent weeks looking over his shoulder, waiting for retribution.
He, too, must have felt the Mark aching on his skin. It stung, thinking of the similarities between them. Perhaps right at this moment Karkaroff was wondering what would happen to a servant who'd betrayed half a dozen of his own kind to save his own skin.
In stark contrast to Severus, the only thing Karkaroff seemed to regret was having forsaken the Dark Lord too easily.
A few hours after the feast Severus was still awake, having paid a visit to the greenhouses to water the notoriously high-maintenance yoxard bonsai he and Pomona had begun cultivating. He paused on his way to the dungeons, bemused at finding the doors to the Great Hall closed. They'd been left open after the feast, allowing access to those students wanting to enter their name to the Goblet of Fire for a chance to compete.
Severus narrowed his eyes. He hadn't liked the excited buzzing swelling from the Gryffindor table after the Goblet had been revealed, stemming from students he knew perfectly well not to be of age. He didn't doubt there might be those trying to trick their way into the tournament. Severus would not care, if he had not his own infamous rule-breaker to think of.
Severus pushed open the large doors just enough slip through, lay eyes on the Goblet and found–
"Moody." He walked up to his colleague with large strides. "What a surprise to see you at this hour."
Moody had not startled at his entrance. With his artificial eye, he was a very difficult man to surprise. "Snape," he growled, making his distaste clear through the single word. "I could say the same about you."
"A number of students have a history of considering themselves above the rules put in place for their safety," Severus said.
Moody gave a nondescript grunt. "If a student manages to get through this age line I say they damn well deserve competing."
"Implying you have different reasons for being here."
"We would be ever so lucky if student rebellion was the only reason to be cautious."
Severus paused. "Meaning what, precisely?"
"Nothing, if we're lucky," he said in that growling voice of his. "Just saying that if somebody wanted to cause a little havoc, this would be a prime opportunity."
Severus was almost ready to dismiss Moody's words as proof of his infamous paranoia. Then again, something extraordinarily dangerous had happened in each of Potter's years at Hogwarts so far, and Moody had not survived as an auror for as long as he had out of dumb luck.
Severus thoroughly examined the Goblet by himself after Moody had left, but didn't have any more luck uncovering signs of tampering than the ex-auror seemed to have had.
Severus passed the Great Hall a few more times that night and the next morning, glaring at anybody who'd come to toss in their name. Hearsay trickled through the castle as quickly as it always did, and soon no underage student dared linger near the Goblet for fear of seeming suspicious.
Moody limped into the Hall once more, but left after a long look and a nondescript grunt in Severus' direction. Though Severus had no doubt the man could not stand his freedom, he seemed to respect Dumbledore enough to reluctantly accept his presence in the castle.
If somebody were to tamper with the Goblet against all odds, Severus had no doubt that he would be Moody's prime suspect.
By dinnertime, Severus' felt an odd sense of apprehension. The buzz of excitement filling up the Great Hall made him think of a swarm of angry insects.
Something didn't feel right. He looked up and down the staff table, feeling an odd prickle at the back of his neck. Karkaroff held his arm still in a way that looked natural unless one knew what to look for. Moody's chin rested on his clasped hands, his healthy eye closed while his artificial eye swirled all over the Hall.
Dumbledore caught his gaze and shot him a quizzical look. Severus said nothing, turning back to the students. He waited.
The tension in the Great Hall had risen to a mesmerizing level. The buzz of the students had died down, leaving only a trance-like anticipation.
The Goblet ignited. All muscles in Severus' back tensed up as his eyes tracked the first piece of parchment it spit out.
"The champion of Durmstrang is Viktor Krum!"
Cheers echoed through the Hall, wild and unrestrained. Severus' eyes rested on the Goblet as Krum shuffled his way to a side chamber.
"The champion of Beauxbatons will be Fleur Delacour!"
More cheers, though not as boisterous as for the professional Quidditch player before her. Only Hogwarts was left.
The fire turned red for the third time. A piece of parchment shot out as the entire Hall seemed to hold its breath. Dumbledore snatched the paper out of the air, his face illuminated by the once again eerie white-blue fire.
"The Hogwarts champion is Cedric Diggory!"
The Hufflepuff table erupted into cheers. Severus' eyes were locked onto the Goblet. It kept burning, unnaturally colored flames licking over the wooden edge.
The fire flared up, spitting sparks. Then it expired, plunging the Hall into darkness before Dumbledore relit the candles with a wave of his wand.
Three champions had been chosen. Severus leaned back, the foreboding sensation in his stomach settling.
"Why did it have to be Diggory?" Ron griped on their way to the common room, surrounded by chattering Gryffindors. "Why not Angelina? Or any Gryffindor?"
"Better him than Warrington," Harry said grimly. "Remember he put his name in, too?"
Warrington was one of the more violent Quidditch players Harry regularly competed against. He couldn't remember a game where he hadn't committed several fouls.
"Still."
Harry didn't have anything against Cedric, but he knew that Ron still thought ill of him after he'd caught the snitch in the third-year Quidditch game where Harry had lost consciousness because of the dementors.
"Though, Harry." Ron gave him a smug grin. "Something huge is happening at school and you're not at the center of it. Are you sure you'll be able to cope?"
"Buzz off." Harry laughed, giving Ron a firm shove.
The next few days, talks about the tournament were front and center all over the school. Though most Gryffindors were disappointed that one of theirs hadn't become champion, complaints about Cedric began to die down as the conversations shifted towards speculations over what the first task might be.
A journalist and a photographer burst into their Transfiguration class that week. They claimed they'd gotten lost looking for the room where the champions' wands would be weighed (whatever that meant), but Harry wasn't sure he believed them. He didn't much like the glint in the journalist's eyes when she'd caught sight of his scar.
His bad feeling was proven right when an article about the tournament was published in the Prophet. The blonde journalist, Rita Skeeter, had mentioned both Cedric and the Beauxbatons champion only in passing and misspelled both of their names. Krum – with many references to his Quidditch career – had gotten off better, but Skeeter had somehow managed to dedicate more paragraphs to Harry than Cedric and the Beauxbatons girl combined despite him not having anything to do with the tournament.
"Looks like she's just trying to get attention for her articles," Hermione told him, waving the whole thing off. "It's pathetic, using famous names to boost her readership."
"I'd rather she use somebody else," Harry muttered. Ron had joked about it, but he felt he'd spent long enough in the spotlight to last him a lifetime.
A/N:
Crouch-as-Moody, being caught in the act by Snape: :/ fine. just gonna play up the paranoid lunatic angle and try later
Snape: keeps coming back to check on the Goblet
Crouch-as-Moody:
Crouch-as-Moody: :/
xxx
Also, for everybody who wanted Harry to join the tournament: listen. listen. I get you. But also: I really didn't want to have to come up with ways to make the tournament somehow interesting and different from both the book and the hundreds of other versions that already exist about it as fanfiction asdf
Huge thanks to my wonderful betas Mockingone, Igornerd, flyingcat and, as of this chapter, the lovely ethirielalways!
~Gwen