snape and skull

53

The Mysterious Voice
H

arry, Ron, and the rest of the Gryffindors made their way down to the greenhouse after Transfiguration by midmorning. They were joined by the Slytherins this period, and the students milled about waiting for Professor Sprout to arrive and direct them to the correct greenhouse.
"

Huh. Usually Sprout's always on time for class," mused Neville.
"There's the reason why she's late," Draco scowled and pointed to the path, where Sprout was being delayed by one Gilderoy Lockhart. "The peacock ambushed her."
Several of the Slytherins and Gryffindors, at least the boys sniggered over that derogatory nickname, and some of the girls shot Malfoy astonished and angry looks. Harry observed that one of the few girls who didn't seem enamored of the blonde wizard was Daphne, who rolled her eyes heavenward.
Meanwhile, further up the path, Pomona was trying her hardest to disengage from Lockhart, who was trying to tell her how to best to care for the Willow. "Why, dear woman, I once saw a similar species in Greece . . . and they poured a mixture of water and honey out on the roots . . ."
Pomona fought to keep a smile on her face. "Gilderoy, please! I must get to class, my students are waiting anxiously . . .!" By Gaia, I wish I could just hex his mouth shut, the witch thought irritably. Skull, how I wish you were here now! You always seem to know how to put these puffed up showy blabbermouths in their place. I think my ears are about to fall off from listening to the man talk nonstop!
Watching the exchange, Harry got an idea. He pulled out a spare pair of earmuffs from his bookbag, Severus had stuffed them in there, saying he would need them when his class began studying mandrakes. Then he trotted up the path with them in his hand.
"Excuse me, Professor Sprout, you dropped these," Harry held the earmuffs out to the stout witch.
"What? Oh, Mr. Potter-Snape, thank you!" Pomona cried gratefully and snatched the earmuffs from Harry and put them on. Then she heaved a sigh of relief, for Lockhart's voice was muffled to nearly nothing.
Unfortunately, his attempt to help out his Herbology teacher backfired, when Lockhart turned and spotted him. "Harry Potter! We meet again! Didn't I say so over the summer?"
Harry backed up. "Uh, I have class, Professor Lockhart. And it's Potter-Snape. Professor Snape adopted me last term."
"Yes, yes, I saw that in the paper. Right good of the old chap, even if he is a humorless fellow who dresses like he ought to be a funeral director," Lockhart drawled.
Harry glared at the blonde dandy. "Hey! Don't talk like that about my dad . . . sir!" he growled, remembering at the last minute to add the honorific.
"Perhaps I can give him some pointers," Lockhart continued, utterly oblivious of the fact that he had insulted Harry's father and ticked the boy off. Then he gave Harry a rather disappointed glance. "But really, you didn't need to fly a car to school in order to get your name in the paper. Harry, Harry, I understand why you thought you had to, but you're only twelve, you have plenty of time to build up your celebrity status—"
"My what?" Harry sputtered. "Professor Lockhart, you've got it all wrong. I don't like being famous—matter of fact, I—"
"—oh, come now, I understand how I might have influenced you when I did that little front page picture over the summer—it only stands to reason that you'd want to be like me—"
Like him? Merlin help me, I think I'd hex myself! Harry thought in horror. That's if Dad didn't kill me first! "Sir!" Harry tried again. "I hate being famous. And I didn't fly the car to school to be in the paper—in fact it was just the opposite. I did it to avoid the press. Didn't you read this new edition, Professor?"
"What? Oh . . . er . . . yes I did glance at it. Something about an apology . . ." Lockhart muttered.
Harry hit himself in the forehead. "Yeah, the reporters who were harassing me apologized. Please excuse me, Professor, I need to get to class before I lose points," the Gryffindor reminded Lockhart.
"Oh! Carry on then!" Lockhart smiled. "We can talk more later, Harry. After my class tomorrow. We celebrities must stick together!"
Harry just nodded, then fled as quickly as he could back down the path. He reached the greenhouses, and followed the rest of his class inside greenhouse three, which contained several species of interesting and dangerous plants.
"What did the peacock want, Snape?" Draco asked as Harry came to stand beside him, with quill and notebook out.
"To tell me some stupidity about how he thought I flew the car to school because I wanted to get my name in the paper—like he does!" Harry muttered out of the corner of his mouth.
Draco snorted. "Seriously? The peacock's nuts! You don't need to fly a car to school in order to do that! All you have to do is walk down the street in Diagon Alley."
Harry rolled his eyes. "Tell me about it! And Lockhart's an idiot if he thinks I want to be the front-page headline. I was trying to not be noticed, for Merlin's sake!"
Professor Sprout cleared her throat. "Mr. Malfoy and Mr. Potter-Snape, pay attention! You can socialize after class." She waved her wand at a large pot in front of her. "Now then, today we will be potting mandrakes. Who can tell me what mandrakes are used for?"
Harry, anxious to redeem himself from the earlier reprimand, raised his hand. So did Hermione and Draco.
"Mr. Malfoy, go ahead," Sprout called.
"Mandrakes are a powerful restorative," Draco replied. "You use them in potions to reverse petrification or people who have been cursed."
"Correct. Ten points to Slytherin," Sprout nodded. "Mandrakes are essential in many antidotes. But they are also dangerous. Who can tell me why?"
Harry kept his hand up.
"Mr. Potter-Snape. Enlighten us."
"Mandrakes can be poisonous if added in incorrect amounts to a draft," Harry answered, recalling Severus lecturing on that point over the summer when he showed Harry how to brew a standard antidote. "That's why my dad said you always have to pay attention to the recipe when you brew an antidote."
"That is quite true," agreed Sprout. "Ten points to Gryffindor for your concise answer. I can see that you've learned quite a bit over the summer from Professor Snape. But there's another reason why mandrakes are dangerous. What is it? Mr. Longbottom?"
"The cry of a full-grown mandrake can kill you."
"Excellent!" Sprout smiled at Neville. "But these are babies yet, so they can't kill you with their screams yet. However, they can knock you out for a few hours, so don't pick them up unless you have your earmuffs on."
Everyone came over to see the spiky purplish-green plants in a deep row of trays. "Now, put your earmuffs on!" Sprout ordered, then waited until everyone had done so.
Harry reached in his bag and withdrew his other pair, which were a deep maroon color, Sprout had gotten the ones that were golden colored. Some of his classmates had to grab pairs from the box Sprout had placed at one end of the table. Draco, he noted, had a pair of green and silver ones that looked like they were made from mink fur. Trust Draco to have designer earmuffs! Harry thought in amusement, covering his mouth to stifle a giggle.
The blonde boy arched an eyebrow at the young Gryffindor. "Something funny, Snape?"
"Uh . . . it's just . . ." Harry shook his head. He was saved from making up an explanation when Sprout tapped the side of her large earthenware pot with her trowel.
"Watch carefully, class!" she ordered. "All eyes on me!"
Everyone watched closely as she yanked the spiky plant up and revealed a filthy screeching humanoid that resembled a baby dwarf throwing a tantrum.
"Bloody hell!" Ron cried.
Sprout quickly stuck the screeching thing into the pot and then proceeded to pile compost and soil over it until it was covered neatly. She tamped down the dirt with her trowel. "See? Nothing to it. Just don't remove your earmuffs and you'll be fine." She then removed hers and gestured to everyone else to do so. "Now that you've seen my demonstration, please go and pot your own baby mandrake. There's fertilizer there in the burlap sacks and you ought to know where the trowels are by now. Take a tray with four and do them. You have an hour. Remember, earmuffs and don't forget your dragonhide gloves!"
Harry replaced his earmuffs and pulled on his gloves. He was glad they could use gloves in this class, even though he didn't mind getting his hands dirty planting, heaven only knew he'd gotten filthy gardening at Privet Drive.
Then he copied Sprout and pulled a mandrake seedling from its tray. The disgruntled plant began shrieking, clearly annoyed at being yanked from its comfortable earthy bed.
"Merlin, but you sure are grumpy!" Harry muttered, shoving it in a pot. The mandrake squirmed, trying to get out. "Hey! Settle down! You throw a worse fit than Dudley getting woken up on a Sunday to go to church!" Since his cousin tended to be difficult to wake up, Harry had gotten stuck with that chore more times than he could count—and gotten more than one black eye and bloody nose for it.
Harry quickly scooped fertilizer into the pot, muffling the mandrake's cries. At last the mandrake was potted, and Harry breathed a sigh of relief. One down, and three to go. He shot a quick glance about to see how his friends were doing.
Neville seemed to be doing fine, having potted the first one and was now on the second. Hermione had a bit of difficulty since hers tried to jump out of the pot but she stuffed it back and threw half a bag of fertilizer on it to keep it still. Draco smacked his when it tried to bite him before he filled in the pot.
"Mind your manners, you creepy wretch!" he scolded.
Ron was wearing half the fertilizer because his mandrake had kicked it over on him before he had managed to get it in the pot.
"Oi!" he snapped. "Get in there, you screeching menace!"
Harry thought carefully before repotting his second mandrake. The baby mandrake reminded him of a cross toddler being woken up from a nap suddenly. An image formed in his head of Skull crooning a lullaby to him once when he'd woken from a nightmare. His mouth twitched in a smirk. Perhaps he could take a leaf from the raven's handbook.
Well, here goes nothing. And it's a good thing that the other kids can't hear me singing because of the earmuffs. I only know what they said because I learned how to read lips after I went temporarily deaf because I had a bad ear infection when I was five and Aunt Petunia didn't take me to the doctor soon enough.
When he had told Severus that story, Harry had feared the Potions Master was going to attempt to hunt down the Dursleys and kill them. He had told Harry that he was very fortunate that his magic had acted to heal him, or else he could have suffered permanent hearing loss.
He quickly banished any thoughts of his abusive relatives from his mind and then began to sing as he withdrew the second mandrake from its tray. He sang "Hush Little Baby," which was what Skull had sang to him, in Severus' silky brilliant baritone, and while he knew he didn't have the range the bird had, he wasn't a bad soprano.
He sang directly into the mandrake's leafy ear, hoping it might cause the plant to be soothed and easier to pot.
To his astonishment, the mandrake gradually stopped screaming and started to grow sleepy. Merlin's socks, it worked! He thought, elated, and began to scoop fertilizer over it.
He was finished quickly, and reached for the third one.
He began singing at the same time he unearthed the mandrake, and the screeching dervish quickly stopped yelling and began yawning instead.
Draco blinked upon seeing Harry's mandrake nodding off. "Blazes, Snape! What did you do?"
Harry didn't answer right off, he was too busy potting his sleepy mandrake. Afterwards, he dusted his hands off and wrote a reply. I sang to it to calm it and make it sleepy. Makes it easier to pot.
Both eyebrows rose into Malfoy's white-blonde hair. "Merlin! That's brilliant! Do it again!"
Harry began to pot his fourth mandrake, with Draco watching avidly, when Professor Sprout came over to see how they were doing.
"How are you doing?" she began, then gaped in astonishment when she saw what Harry was doing. "Great Gaia, Mr. Potter-Snape! That's simply . . . amazing! Who taught you how to do that?"
Harry glanced up at his teacher. Then he carefully put soil over the mandrake, then picked up his quill and wrote an explanation. No one taught me, Professor. I just thought the baby mandrakes seemed cross, like a grumpy toddler, so I sang them a lullaby.
She read what he had written. "Why, that's the most unusual and creative way I have ever seen a student pot a mandrake! What's more, it worked splendidly! Twenty-five points to Gryffindor! Well done, Mr. Potter-Snape!" She patted Harry on the shoulder, beaming. "I shall need to tell your father and the Headmaster about this."
Harry felt a sudden rush of pride suffuse him. It had been a long time since he'd had a teacher praise him like this, and it made him feel good especially because it was over academics, proving he had a good head on his shoulders. Severus had said so, but he was one of the few professors who recognized Harry's brains and not just his prowess on a broom. Then too, he knew such an achievement would please his father to no end, and after making Severus so disappointed and angry, it was an unexpected gift to make the Potions Master proud again of his scapegrace son.
A quiet smile emerged on the twelve-year-old's face and his emerald eyes sparkled. Really, Professor? You like my solution that much? He wrote.
"I do indeed, Mr. Potter-Snape," Sprout chuckled. "It reminds of the time Professor Snape discovered that the best type of fertilizer for wiggentrees had dried cocoa beans and honey mixed in it, and caused the trees to grow three times as fast. You have your dad's creative bent, Harry."
Then Dad was good at Herbology? Harry queried.
Pomona nodded. "Did you not know that? The best potioneers are often top notch herbologists also. You can't have one without the other."
Harry beamed, thinking that made perfect sense. He recalled that Severus had a thriving garden at Ravenhold, and always enjoyed working in it.
By then the rest of the class had finished potting their mandrakes and once Pomona had made certain everyone had done so correctly, she directed them to remove their earmuffs.
Once Draco had done so, he gave Harry a friendly clap on the shoulder. "Didn't I say that was brilliant, Harry? The professor will be as pleased as a fairy looking at her reflection. He always is when one of his snakes shows they have just as much brains as a Ravenclaw or Granger, for that matter."
Harry flushed, knowing that Draco didn't usually acknowledge other's achievements this way. "I just . . . remembered something Skull did and figured it might work."
"Draco's right," Daphne remarked from his other side. "It was incredibly clever and innovative," the Slytherin girl grinned, brushing a lock of brown hair from her eyes, which were a spring green. "And now you've made me sound like a walking vocabulary text, Snape!"
Harry and Draco giggled along with her. Harry noticed that her laugh was like sunshine, pleasant to listen to, and not shrill or annoying the way most girls were.
"What did you do, mate?" Ron wanted to know.
His friends clustered around him, and Harry explained what he had done. All of them agreed that it was clever and wanted to try it next time they potted mandrakes.
"That's very clever, Harry," Hermione acknowledged. "Your dad will be pleased as punch."
"Think they'd care if I sang an old Irish drinking song?" Seamus wanted to know. "It's the only song I know all the words to!"
That made everyone burst out laughing, and Harry left Herbology feeling as if he had won the House Cup.
That evening, Severus took his seat at the staff table, expecting the usual chatter over new curriculums and students who dozed off in class or drove their professor up the wall talking about everything but their current class. Professor Snape himself had to reprimand three of his fourth years for discussing hair potions instead of Shrinking Solutions, and took points from a Hufflepuff first year for doodling in her lab book instead of taking notes on the Boil Cure potion. But at least there had been no major disasters and the only detention he had issued had been the one to the three intrepid car thieves.
He tapped the side of his glass and requested spring water with a slice of lemon, which was what he normally drank and as he sipped it noted Pomona seemed extremely cheery, more so than usual, and so too did Flitwick, making the Potions Master wonder if they had imbibed a Euphoria Draft. Dumbledore was also looking jolly, the infernal twinkle was back in his blue eyes.
Severus nodded cordially at Minerva on one side of him and gave Lena, on his other side, a quiet smile in return for one of hers. The only person at the table he detested was Lockhart, and thanked God he was seated further down the table, badgering poor Sybill with his fictitious exploits. But at least Trelawny was gazing into her teacup and probably not even paying attention to the dandy, thought Severus with a sneer.
Severus had just tapped the side of his plate and requested stuffed chicken breasts with gravy, new potatoes, and seasoned green beans when Pomona came up to him. "Was there something you needed, Pomona?" he asked softly.
"No, but you need to hear this, Severus!" the Herbology professor said, grinning from ear to ear. "It concerns Harry."
"Tell me you didn't give him detention, Pomona," the Potions Master huffed.
"No, Severus, nothing like that!" she laughed. "I would have told you this sooner, but you were in class and I know how much you need your lunch hour to unwind so I saved it till now."
Snape arched an eyebrow. "Go on."
Then he listened with astonished pride as Sprout related what had gone on in the greenhouse that day.
"It really is remarkable, Severus!" Pomona laughed. "Harry is only a second-year and he did something not even my NEWT students did!"
"You ought to be very proud of your son, Severus," Albus interjected. "I shall like to put that technique into practice myself."
"Harry is a credit to you, Sev," Lena murmured.
"Thank you," the professor said, feeling pride suffuse him. "My son has a good head on his shoulders, more than most people give him credit for."
"He's not the only family member you ought to be proud of, Severus," commented Flitwick. "Your young cousin Dante performed a quite advanced piece of magic today in my class. Wandlessly, I might add."
There were murmurs of curiosity at that statement.
"He did? What spell did he cast?" Snape queried.
"Incarcerous," Flitwick responded. "Normally I don't teach that until fourth year. And never wandlessly until sixth. Mr. Prince has proven himself to be very advanced in charms—I had him tutor several students and he's quite good at explaining himself in a way students can understand. I think you might have another professor there, Severus, if that's what he chooses to do after he finishes school."
"The lad can do wandless magic?" exclaimed Lockhart. "I say, how old is he, Snape?"
"Thirteen," Severus answered shortly.
"Hmm . . . that's quite remarkable! Of course I myself could do wandless magic young too," Lockhart bragged, smiling his phony grin.
"Indeed?" Severus' lips twisted into his trademark sneer. "I wasn't aware that you knew what a wand was for, except as prop for your photoshoots, much less how to cast spells without one."
Gilderoy slapped his knee, chortling. "Very funny, old boy! But really, Snape, I assure you I have defeated vampires and banshees with a flick of my wrist—it's in my books—"
"Pardon, Lockhart, if I don't have time right now to read gratuitous works of fiction," Severus riposted. "But we were discussing my son and ward, were we not?"
"Of course, Severus—"
"That's Professor Snape, Lockhart," Severus growled.
Lockhart gulped at the look Severus was giving him. "Right, right, and might I say that young Harry is well on his way to becoming a real celebrity like yours truly—his exploits the stuff of legends—"
Severus fought to keep from vomiting. "Lockhart, the only exploits my son will be having is going to class and learning magic. Furthermore, Harry does not like being a celebrity, so there will be no more exclusives in his future. Clear?"
"Oh, come now Snape, you don't understand what it's like to be in the public eye," Lockhart smiled winningly. "The way it makes your heart race, your pulse pound when thousands of people shout your name . . . it's glorious, simply glorious! Now surely you aren't that much of a curmudgeon to deny the boy that? Why, I have recently wrangled an interview with The Prophet's top personal ad columnist, Ms. Rita Skeeter, to do a piece on me. I'd be happy to share the spotlight with Harry . . ."
"Lockhart, read my lips—N-O." Snape enunciated. "No."
Gilderoy suddenly realized that discretion was the better part of valor and sighed. "Oh very well, old boy. No need to growl at me like a chimera. My adoring public will just have to content themselves with seeing me and my award winning smile on the front page . . ." He turned to Sybill, whose eyes were unfocused and gazing into her empty teacup. "I say, Sybill, did I ever tell you about the time I stalked a chimera in the forest near Athens . . . no? Well, let me assure you it's quite the tale . . ."
Snape rolled his eyes and tuned out the obnoxious wizard, returning to his dinner.
He was halfway through it when Dumbledore said, "See, Severus, didn't I say all those months ago that this was a new beginning for you and Harry when you saved him from the troll on Halloween?"
Snape cocked his head, thinking back to that event. "Not that I can recall, Albus, though you may have and it escapes me at the moment. I did have a concussion afterwards."
"You did an incredibly brave thing, fighting the troll to the death like that," Lena acknowledged.
"I agree, even if the library was damaged because of it," said Irma ruefully.
"Any of you would have done the same," Severus replied.
"Yes, but we might not have succeeded," Pomona admitted. "Except Filius, none of us are master duelists, Severus."
"Did you know that I once dealt with a whole tribe of mountain trolls in the Carpathians on holiday?" Lockhart interrupted. "Sent them all running for cover with a swish and a flick," he gestured wildly, grinning like a demented monkey.
Severus longed to hex his perfect smile out with a Teeth Rotting Jinx. Merlin forbid anyone else is ever praised for something while the Perfect Prat of a Peacock is around, he thought disparagingly. He can't bear not to have the spotlight, just like bloody James Potter!
Lockhart irritated him so much he lost his appetite. He carefully set his fork and knife across his plate and placed his napkin over it so the elves knew he was finished before Lena nudged him. He gave her an inquiring look and whispered, "What is it?"
"Lockhart irritates me beyond belief!" she hissed out of the corner of her mouth. "That bragging buffoon makes me want to reverse his ass and his head!"
Severus muffled his laughter with a hand.
"If you do, owl me," he smirked. "I'd love to watch it!"
"I'd be glad to, Sev," she murmured, her aqua eyes sparkling. "Though I don't know how much difference it'll make, considering the two are almost mutually exclusive."
Severus nearly choked on his water.
"Are you all right?" Minerva asked, looking at him in concern.
"Fine," he waved her concern away. "I just swallowed wrong," he covered smoothly. Rosario, you wicked witch! You plot revenge like a Slytherin, and with as sassy a tongue as my own. He saluted her with the water goblet.
Lena winked mischievously at him over her own goblet of chilled cranberry juice. Then she sent cautiously to him, Severus . . . can you hear me?
His eyes widened, and she knew he had heard her mind voice. Lena? How are you able to penetrate my shields?
I didn't. Your Occlumency shields are still up, but I'm not trying to invade your mind. Or listen to your thoughts. I'm just mindspeaking.
She toyed idly with a napkin in her lap, wondering if her revelation of her Talent would cause him to reject her friendship.
You're a mind magus?
I am.
She waited for his reaction, near to biting her nails in fear.
She lifted her eyes to meet his, prepared for the disgust and anger or even fear she would see in them.
But instead there was surprise and curiosity and—dare she think it—acceptance.
How remarkable. Have you always had this Talent?
Yes, since I was eleven, when it awakened. Then you aren't—I don't . . . frighten you . . .?
He shook his head no. Indeed not. That Talent is one of the Old Magics like Travelling and Occlumency.
She blinked then spoke softly, "You're right. It is. And most wizards are frightened when I tell them what I can do. You are one of the few who isn't, Sev."
"I don't fear the different," he reassured quietly. "I never have."
"I am happy to hear it." She flashed him another of her endearing quiet smiles. Gathering her courage, she said, "Would you like to go for a walk after dinner?"
"Regrettably, I can't," he sighed. "I have a detention with my three daredevils to supervise. But perhaps tomorrow evening? I should be free then."
"I'll take a rain check, as my father would say," she returned. Then she focused on the table, realizing that the sweet course was about to be served.
She tapped her spoon on the side of her cup and said softly, "Coffee, two sugars and cream, please."
A silky baritone whispered a similar request, but with one sugar and a small bit of cream.
Lena reached for a shortbread sandwich with strawberry jam, and saw out of the corner of her eye Severus take a shortbread dipped half in dark chocolate.
The Potions Master savored the biscuit, outwardly calm, though his heart was beating rapidly like hummingbird in flight. Irritably, he told himself to quit acting like a lovesick adolescent. It's just a walk, Snape! Not a moonlit tryst!
Go for it, Sev! Nothing ventured, nothing gained, he could Skull's voice in his head, giving encouragement and advice.
Ah, Skullduggery . . . I miss you, old friend. Even if sometimes I want to throttle you. I hope all is well with you and Shriek and your fledglings.
His irrepressible familiar had been away from him before, visiting his family in the Tower of London for a few weeks at a time, but this time he was an ocean away, in South Dakota, raising his new brood of troublemakers. And Severus missed him the way he would have his magic gone missing. There was a lonely space in his heart that would not be filled until the raven returned.
But in the meantime he would keep busy, teaching, supervising detentions, raising his wayward scamps, and perhaps enjoying an evening stroll with a good friend.
She's more than a friend, Sev, and you know it! Skullduggery squawked in his head.
Shut up, Skull!
Later that evening:
After dinner, Harry, Ron, and Dante made their way down to Snape's office. They discussed their respective classes, with Harry telling Dante what had happened in Herbology and his cousin returned the favor by letting him know how his Charms class with Flitwick had gone.
"Flitwick is actually a nice professor," Dante acknowledged. "Way better than the tutor I had in Charms in Wyoming in the beginning. That one used to yell at me when I got a spell wrong. I didn't learn squat from him and finally Sparrow got my dad to fire him, said he was a waste of space—it was true."
"Quirrell was like that," Ron snorted. "He didn't yell but he was utterly boring and we learned nothing in Defense last year except how to fall asleep faster."
"I don't know how good we're going to have it this year either," Harry sighed ruefully. "Lockhart seems to only know one subject—himself."
"Severus told me he might try and convince the Headmaster to let him open a Dueling Club like they used to have years ago," Dante informed them. "Then at least he could tutor us in Defense."
"That would be wicked!" Ron grinned. "Professor Snape is aces at Defense—he taught Harry and me and Fred and George some spells over holiday break last year and I learned more in a few weeks from him than I did all term from Quirrell."
"I hope Dumbledore says yes," Harry smiled.
By then they had reached the office, but when Harry knocked and then entered after a moment, it was empty. "Huh. Dad must be running late. Either that or he's scolding some student for forgetting their homework or mucking up a potion or something."
Ron and Harry took seats in front of Snape's desk, while Dante prowled about curiously, looking at the different beakers and jars behind the desk and the certificates on the wall of Severus' many achievements.
Dante's eyes widened as he saw Snape's certificate for his Potions Mastery. "Holy Merlin! He was only twenty when he received this!" The raven-haired boy whistled in admiration.
"I know. Told you he was a genius," Harry declared proudly. "He's the youngest Potions Master anywhere in Britain and Europe and probably America too."
"I don't know about the US," Dante said quietly. "But I'll bet Ghost Walker would know."
"I'll have to ask him next time he contacts me through the astral," Harry said.
Dante gaped at his cousin. "You can Travel?"
"Yeah. It's one of my Talents." Harry replied. "In fact, that's why I ended up with Ghost for a teacher."
He explained about his Traveling ability going haywire and how Ghost had taught him how to control it and when to use it and the perils of the Place Between Worlds.
While he talked Dante looked at the other certificates in the office. He saw another for First in NEWT level Herbology, and a golden shield with the inscription Dueling Champion 1986-1990 All Around Mastery. Holy hells! Why the blazes isn't he teaching Defense instead of that idiot Lockhart? What's Dumbledore smoking up there in his office?
Now more than ever Dante hoped his elder cousin would instruct the Dueling Club. That would be so cool! Wonder if Severus could have kicked Dad's ass in a duel? Probably. Unless Dad cheated—which would be just like him. Sulla had always said that if the odds weren't in your favor, then make them so, by whatever means necessary.
But like most of his teachings, Dante had rejected them, not wishing to emulate the man who had made his life hell for the past three years.
Dante wandered over to peer at a shelf in the corner, which held a framed picture of a woman with dark hair wearing a green and gold chasuble and a black robe. Next to it was a pretty china vase with a single everblooming yellow rose. Yellow roses for goodbyes, Dante recalled Sparrow's earliest teachings about the language of flowers. The witch in the portrait smiled at Dante. "Who's she?"
"That's Eileen Prince, Dad's mum," Harry answered.
"Oh. My aunt," Dante said and studied the picture curiously. "My father looked a bit like her. Same hair and eyes." Only Sulla had never smiled . . . unless he was closing a deal or had gotten the better of someone, Dante recalled. He saw another picture on Snape's desk of Harry beside a cauldron, smiling into the camera.
Harry rose to see what Dante was looking at and remarked, "He took that picture of me after I had brewed a successful batch of Shrinking Solution over the summer. That's his lab at home."
"With Skull on your shoulder," Dante chuckled.
"Yeah, he insisted on being in the picture," Harry laughed.
Another picture caught his eye, this one was of the study group in Severus' quarters consisting of Harry, Draco, Ron, Hermione, and Neville. Harry wondered if Severus might take a new one this year, especially if Dante also joined them.
Dante noted that there was a vial of extra quills on the professor's desk, including a veridian one, a crimson one, and a black raven feather. "Raven quills are great for writing coded messages or spells," the American wizard said softly.
"I know. That's from Skull. He gave me one too on Christmas," Harry told him. "Maybe he'll give you one too when you see him next."
"Guess we'll see," Dante shrugged. He made his way back in front of the desk and then transfigured a tissue into a chair.
He had just sat down when the office door opened and Snape billowed in.
"Good, you are all present," the professor said. "Come, let us Floo to Hogsmeade Station. That's where the Hogwarts Express is." He beckoned to the three apprentices. "You all know how to Floo, correct? Very well, let's go."
He retrieved the jar of Floo powder from the fireplace mantle and tossed some into the fire. When the fire flared green, he had Harry go first, Ron second, and then Dante. Severus went last, and soon all of them were stepping from the fireplace of The Three Broomsticks.
Dante would have liked to look about at the inn a bit more, seeing as how he wasn't going to be able to come and visit later on in October, which was when the first Hogsmeade visit was scheduled. But Snape had other ideas, and after greeting the proprietress, Madam Rosmerta cordially, shepherded his three students out the door and down the street to the railway station.
The air was a bit nippy, and Harry clutched his cloak a bit closer as they walked.
Severus strode along calmly, like a specter from night's darkest tomb. As they approached the round house where the train was housed during the year, he praised both Harry and Dante for their creativity in their classes that morning.
Harry felt a warm glow move through him at his father's approval, which was not something Snape ever gave lightly. One had to earn it, and thus it was doubly precious to him.
Dante also found his initial irritation at being made to serve this detention mollified by his cousin's sincere approval. But a part of him was puzzled. "Severus, I don't understand something. Why are all you British wizards so amazed at wandless magic? I mean, all of you use magic without wands as little kids so what's the big deal that I can cast spells with just my will and my hands? Well, we use spell components for the ritual magics, but . . ."
"That explanation is rather complicated, and not one that I have time to discuss tonight," the Potions Master replied. "But perhaps later on in the week I shall explain why we don't use wandless magic exclusively here. For now, I would like you to concentrate on repairing the damage you three did to the train with your foolish stunt."
"That's another thing. How come you use a Muggle train to transport students to school and not a Gate, like we do in the States? Wouldn't a Gate terminus be easier and quicker?" Dante queried.
"Yes and no," answered the master wizard. "Once Gates were commonplace around this island, back in the time of Merlin and the Founders. But when the Yellow Plague and other pandemics hit, which affected the wizarding population much like the bubonic plague did Muggles, the Ministry decreed that the Gates were too risky to keep operational—that it was too easy to transport groups of wizards who might carry the plague all over the island. So they shut down the termini and destroyed any possibility of rebuilding them. Stonehenge was once a Gate terminus. It was rather unpopular with some of the wizards and witches of that time—and eventually that faction emigrated to America, where they revived the old practice."
"But the plague's been gone for hundreds of years, professor," Ron pointed out. "So why not bring the Gates back?"
Snape shrugged. "Because all the families who used to known how to operate the Gates and had Gate Keepers either died out or left for America and other places. The Ministry has also refused time and again to rebuild the Gates."
"Seems kind of stupid to me," muttered Dante.
"That's a moot point, Mr. Prince," sighed Severus. He went on to give a brief history lesson of the Hogwarts Express to the three boys. He explained that the Hogwarts Express was built during the time of the Minister of Magic Ottaline Gambol, who devised the train as a means to safely transport hundreds of students to Hogwarts and avoid the prying eyes of Muggles. "Ironically, it was Muggle engineers who built this train back in the 1830's," Severus pointed out.
"How did they get Muggles to do that?" Ron wondered.
"By performing one of the greatest magical deceptions of all time," Severus smirked. "One of Minister Gambol's advisors was a former Slytherin alumni named Isadora Chase. Miss Chase was quite skilled in Concealment Charms and assuming different identities to blend in with the Muggle world. It was she who suggested to the Minister they use Muggle ingenuity and experience and commissioned a group of engineers from Crewe in Cheshire to build an exclusive private train for a filthy rich mogul named P. T. Barringer. Barringer was her alias, and she paid the Muggle engineers well to build a red 4-6-0 steam engine with passenger cars and a Buffet Car. She also had them build this railway station. When everything was completed, Barringer and several of her colleagues in the Ministry used Memory Altering Charms to place false memories in the minds of the Muggles who had built the Express and the station and any who happened to come into contact with them."
"You mean they made them forget about the train?" Harry wanted to know.
"Not forget, that was too risky and dangerous. But they put false memories into the Muggles heads of Barringer using the train for her own private use on a small track that went from London to Inverness. Eventually, the people who were involved in the construction passed away and with them died any knowledge of the Hogwarts Express. They also worked an enormous amount of concealment magics upon the train itself so Muggles would never notice it as it traveled."
"That's pretty clever," Dante remarked.
"Trust a Slytherin to come up with that," Harry grinned.
"Indeed."
"How does the train work?"
"It runs by magic, of course. Though it does require a conductor," Severus answered. "The current one is Master Engineer Thomas Percy—a Muggleborn who went to Oxford University to learn how to operate locomotives like the Express. His family has been conductors for two centuries now."
"Before the Express, how did students get to school here?" Dante queried.
"Any way they could. They used Portkeys or Flooed or had enchanted carriages or magical beasts to ride on. Some were Animagi and used their other form to travel. It varied depending on the family or individual." Severus answered. "But such methods were often dangerous, or could only serve to transport a few students at a time, and that was why Minister Gambol thought of the train."
"Oh. I guess it makes sense, since you couldn't use the Gates," Dante acknowledged reluctantly. But he still thought the Gates were better, though he was smart enough not to debate the merits of such a thing with his cousin and risk getting Snape in a snarky mood.
"All right. Enough history, let's focus on why you are all here this evening," the professor switched from History of Magic to detention proctor in an eyeblink.
They had now reached the roundhouse where the Express remained when it was not in use, protected for the most part from the elements.
"I have spoken with Conductor Percy, and he has agreed to allow you to clean the Express instead of the house elves for your detention. Mr. Weasley and Mr. Snape, that will be your task for the first hour."
"Sir, are we allowed to use magic?" queried Ron hopefully.
"You really need to ask that, Weasley?" Severus rolled his eyes. "Since when are my detentions served with magic?"
"Uh . . . never, but . . ."
"There's your answer, boy." Snape pointed his wand and several buckets with a solution of soap and Magical Mess Remover appeared along with sponges and bottles of leather polish with rags as well as brooms, dustpans, and glass cleaner. "Well? Don't stand there gawking." He gestured for the two to begin.
"What about me?" Dante asked.
"You'll take your turn a bit later," Severus answered. "Right now you will come with me to the top of the car you damaged and learn how to repair what you did by landing the car on roof."
Severus laid a hand on Dante's shoulder, gripping gently but firmly. "Relax. I'm going to Sidelong Apparate you."
Dante forced himself to relax and then he was whisked up on top of the Express.
He blinked squinting at the lights illuminating the top of the train.
"Do you feel nauseous?" asked Snape.
"No, sir. Apparition doesn't affect me that way," his cousin replied.
"Good." Severus walked lightly across the passenger car, scowling at the sight of the deep furrows in the steel roof left by the Ford as Dante had attempted to brake while atop the locomotive. He was appalled at how close the three boys had come to falling off the train, the skid marks ended a mere five centimeters from the edge of the car. "Bloody hell! Were you utterly insane?!" he growled, fear, anxiety, and anger intermingled in his tone. "You avoided falling by a little more than four centimeters, you reckless young idiot!"
Dante cringed a bit, then concealed his fear at the other's tone with a smartass reply. "Chill, Severus! We're okay, gonna give yourself a stroke less you calm down."
Severus crossed his arms, shaking his head. "Mind your tone, young man," he scolded. Then he took several deep breaths, calming the sudden surge of temper and fear. "Why did you wish to land on top of the train anyhow?"
Dante coughed, thinking that if he didn't know better, he'd almost believe his cousin was worried for him. But he knew better. Severus had been concerned over Harry, his son, and Ron, his student. Not his strange relation that US Wizarding Services had dumped upon him without so much as a by your leave. "I thought it would be easier to get to school if I rode on top of the train than by trying to follow it, since I didn't know where I was going and the car didn't have any kind of tracking spell in it."
Severus heaved a soft sigh. "Merlin save me! I suppose that makes a kind of sense." Shaking his head in disbelief, he drew his wand.
In spite of himself, Dante flinched.
Snape lowered his wand and eyed his ward. "Remember what I told you last night," he soothed. "There is no need to fear my using magic on you, Mr. Prince. I do not hex children. Now then, watch me. I'm going to cast an advanced Repairing Charm. I assume you know the standard one?"
Dante nodded, ignoring the sweat that meandered down the back of his neck. Stop it, Prince! You're behaving like a yellowbelly coward. "Yeah, I know it."
"Pay attention," ordered the Potions Master. He pointed his wand at the grooves in the roof and enunciated clearly, "Reparo maxima!"
A white light shot out of his wand and repaired a section of the roof.
"Go ahead." He encouraged his student.
Dante concentrated, drawing his hawthorn wand. He wished he could just use his hand to direct his magic, but knew Snape wished him to cast the charm using his wand. He pointed the wand and flicked it slightly at the damaged car. "Reparo maxima!"
The magic surged through him and the spell repaired the damage. Some of it.
Severus gave a short nod of approval. "Keep casting until the roof is mended. I will return in a bit."
"Okay, sir," Dante muttered.
Then Severus Apparated away, leaving the boy alone.
Dante cast the spell once more and then again. When over half the damage was mended, he lowered his wand and gestured, repeating the charm.
The rest of the roof mended itself and Dante smirked, thinking, You never said I had to only use my wand, cousin. He lowered his wand then, just as Severus reappeared on the roof to see how Dante was coming along.
Meanwhile, Harry was scrubbing industrially in one of the passenger cars after he had swept all the crumpled balls of parchment and candy wrappers and dirt from the floor. Honestly, why were people such pigs, he wondered, scowling. The Express provided waste bins in each car, why couldn't the students remember to use them? Merlin's purple pants, were they all raised by wild animals? He thought disgustedly after scrubbing gum off a seat. That was what Petunia had always shrieked when she caught Harry coming inside without removing his shoes first when he was small. He carefully rinsed and dried the leather cushions and then applied a small amount of polish before tackling the windows, which were dirty with dozens of hand and nose print and what could have been the sticky remains of a butterbeer or pumpkin juice.
He rubbed the glass until it shone, thinking that kids wouldn't be so quick to treat the train like their own private trash heap if they had to clean up after themselves instead of relying on house elves to do everything for them.
He had just straightened up from removing a spare bit of parchment from between the seat cushions when he caught a glimpse of something moving outside the window. Frowning, he pressed his face almost on the glass, trying to see what it was.
At first he thought it was someone, but the outline was odd. Squinting, Harry tried to bring it into focus, but was unable to, even with his new glasses. It was too dark.
He rubbed the window with his rag dipped in glass cleaner, but even that failed to make the shape clearer. He pulled off his glasses and rubbed them on the tail of his shirt, but as he was putting them back on, he heard an odd voice nearby.
"Ssss . . .silly child, come out, come out wherever you are! You cannot hide forever . . .I sshall find you . . .My eyes s-s-see all . . .
Harry nearly jumped a foot upon hearing the odd voice, that hissed strangely and yet was melodic and almost . . . mesmerizing.
"What the bloody hell was that?" he cried.
He glanced about frantically, but there was nothing in the compartment save himself.
But the hairs on the back of his neck prickled in unmistakable warning. He pointed his wand at the window and cast a light spell. But the illumination revealed nothing outside save the shapes of the outlying buildings of Hogsmeade.
Get a grip, Harry! He scolded himself roundly. You're just jumpy because it's night and you hate the dark and the wind is blowing about the train and the roundhouse. You're jumping at shadows, you dumb bonehead!
"Harry? You okay?" he heard Ron call from a compartment a few doors down.
"Yeah. I just . . . got startled by the wind."
"Right. It was pretty loud there for a minute," his ginger-haired friend agreed.
Harry snorted. That's the last time I eat too much treacle tart after dinner. Must be the sugar making me all jumpy.
He returned to his task, knowing he'd be in for it if Severus came to inspect the inside of the train and caught his son slacking off.
Finishing with that compartment, Harry picked up his cleaning supplies and moved to the one across the way.
Soon he was joined by Dante, and together the three boys swept and scrubbed until the car shone.
By then, it was nearly nine, and Snape came to examine their progress.
"Is it all right, sir?" Ron asked, stretching. His back ached from bending over so much.
"It is," was all the professor said. "You can return here tomorrow night and clean the two other cars. But that's enough for now, you need to get back to the castle. You need to take showers and then do your homework before bed."
None of the boys protested, but followed behind their professor as he led them back to the Three Broomsticks.
Harry lagged a bit behind the other two boys, trying to see if he could spot anything or anyone unusual, but saw nothing out of the ordinary, just the wind rustling the coating of dead leaves along the pathway back to the village. See, Snape. You were imagining things. Good thing you didn't mention it to Ron or Dante or Merlin forbid, Dad. They'd all think you were nuts.
He hurried to catch up to the others, but for some odd reason couldn't shake the feeling that he was being watched. But when he glanced over his shoulder, there was nothing there.
Severus bid Harry and Ron good night, then watched the two Gryffindors as they climbed the stairs to the Tower before he returned to the dungeons with Dante.
Dante was feeling very tired, and nearly stumbled down a step before Snape caught his shoulder. "Easy. Watch your step, boy."
"Sorry," the teen yawned. "M' sleepy . . ." He rubbed his eyes, blinking and wondering why he felt so drained.
Severus sighed. "That's because you used quite a bit of magic tonight." He shook his head in irritation at himself. Snape, you dunderhead. You should have never let him cast such an advanced spell more than three times.
" . . . don't know why I'm so tired . . ." Dante muttered, struggling to keep his eyes from closing. " . . . did more chores on the ranch than tonight . . ."
"But not after a full day of using your magic in class," Severus pointed out. He saw the teen begin to nod off. "You're out on your feet, boy." He made an abrupt decision. "Dante . . . I'm going to carry you the rest of the way to my quarters before you fall and injure yourself. Understand?"
"Huh? What'd ya say, Sev?" Dante yawned again. His head felt like it was stuffed with cotton batting.
The next thing he knew, strong arms were lifting him up and he was leaning against something firm yet velvety soft. He felt his eyes closing despite himself and he drifted away, his cheek nestled against Snape's teaching robes, the soft midnight fabric caressing his skin, and the soothing sound of the Potions Master's heartbeat sending him deeper into the realm of dreams.
Severus walked swiftly into the warren of passages that composed his dungeons, Dante held securely in his arms. For all his long legs, the boy was slender, and for one moment Severus feared that his cousin had also suffered from malnutrition like Harry. Severus cast a diagnostic after he placed Dante in his bed, and the spell revealed the boy was slightly underweight, but that was because he had suddenly grown an inch and a half in two months. Growth spurt, Snape. He's got the Prince height, he thought in relief.
He transfigured Dante's clothes into pajamas and gently tucked the covers about him. In repose, the teen looked remarkably innocent, his lashes a coal black smear against his pale cheeks. Severus stood looking down at his relative for a few moments, thinking that youngster reminded him eerily of himself as a boy in some ways.
He left a nightlight on in the hallway and after getting into more comfortable loungewear, called Prissy to bring him some tea and a blueberry scone. He nibbled the scone while marking papers, then after an hour set the homework aside and took out World Without End by Ken Follett and began to read.
He had reached a particularly gripping part of the tale when he was interrupted by a whimpering moan that jerked him upright.
A/N: I've taken some artistic liberty with the history of the Hogwarts Express, but since this is my AU, my explanation of how the train was built and then hidden from Muggles fits better with my storyline and makes more sense then just erasing memories right and left like it was no big deal. That's an easy fix by my reckoning and I don't like things too easy.
The name of the conductor was chosen because its also the name of two famous trains from a children's show in the 1990's that my nephews loved to watch and I thought it was fitting.
You'll learn more about the mysterious voice later . . . it's not what you think!
Butterbeer and chocolate frogs to all my readers!