Of Constellations → 𝘥. 𝘮𝘢𝘭𝘧𝘰𝘺

xiii. harry and the hallucination

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chapter thirteen

harry and the hallucination

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Fourth Year

It was a tradition in my family for my father to take me out to the Galloway Forest in Scotland at least once a summer. We did it the Muggle way—Dad would drive us there and we'd hike for an hour and a half into the forest. Our tent was a Muggle tent, and we used regular backpacks. When I was little I used to hate it and beg him to use magic to make it easier. Now, I sort of enjoyed the hard work and the heavy backpack. It was more satisfying that way.

We'd stay in the forest over the weekend, exploring during the day and stargazing well into the night.

That was why we did it every summer. There were so many more stars out in the forest, so far away from civilization. Dad would bring a smaller telescope because our regular ones were too big and heavy. I'd take a pair of binoculars.

These trips were always quiet. We'd spend mornings reading and afternoons taking walks near our campsite, sometimes together, sometimes alone. And we'd spend our meals talking softly over a campfire.

But no trip was quieter than the summer before my fourth year at Hogwarts. It felt weird to be relaxing and stargazing and chatting while we both knew Voldemort was out there. Somewhere.

It was the last night of the trip and we were sitting by a modest fire. Dad was talking to me about the spells I'd been working on to improve my magic telescope (as long as it was school-related and I asked him first, he let me practice magic at home).

"When I get back to Hogwarts, I think I'll tell Professor Sinistra about it. As far as I know, wizards don't even know what the electromagnetic spectrum is, let alone that Muggles have telescopes that can see infrared," I said.

Dad gave me a warning look. "She'll be thrilled. But, Mars, wait a month or two. I don't want her wondering if I'm letting you use magic outside of Hogwarts."

"Right. I will," I said. "I still need time to fine-tune the spell anyway. It fades too quickly to really do much good."

He nodded, reflectively. "And is Potions still your second favorite class?"

"Yeah," I said. "Against all odds."

"Against all odds?"

"Snape is the worst," I said. "He's all right as long as you keep quiet during classes and don't mess up your potion. But, he only takes away house points, never gives them out, and he's dreadful if you dare to mess up. He's somewhat nice to the Slytherins, but he doesn't even give them points, apparently."

"Hmm...," Dad said. "That's how it was at Durmstrang too. They weren't, shall I say, big believers in positive reinforcement."

The crackling of the fire filled the silence for a few seconds. Since I got home, after Dad told me about Uncle Otto's letter about the return of the Dark Lord, we had not spoken about it much. Partially because we didn't want to freak out Mum, I'm sure. And probably a little bit because I don't think Dad would know what to say. How to tell me what to do to protect myself.

Well, I knew one strategy: add the name Potter to my Do-Not-Befriend list. If one wished to encounter Voldemort, surely tagging along with Harry was a good way to go.

I took a breath and asked the question I'd wanted to ask all summer: "Dad, was Snape a Death Eater?"

Dad seemed to flinch a little at this question, looking at me from over the fire, the flames dancing in reflections on his pale eyes. He took a slow breath. "Severus Snape became a Death Eater after I left my family, so I never knew him. But Otto did. He was very young when he joined, just out of Hogwarts. After the Dark Lord attempted to kill Harry Potter, Dumbledore managed to get Snape acquitted from his Azkaban sentence and then hired him at Hogwarts. Dumbledore swore up and down that he had full trust that Snape had really changed."