snape and skull

65

Dobby's Dream
W

hile Severus discussed the dragonelle with the Headmaster, Harry and Draco questioned Dobby about what he had meant by appearing that day to speak with the Gryffindor in Diagon Alley.
"

Dobby, Snape here seems to think that you had a dream and needed to warn him about it before school." Draco began. "Is that true?"
"Yes, Master Draco Malfoy, sir!" the elf nodded so hard Harry feared his head were about to come off.
"You said you wanted to warn me of a great danger coming," Harry prompted. "But you didn't know what it was. Have you had any more dreams about me or this great danger?"
"Yes, Master Harry Potter-Snape, sir! Dobby was coming to tell you again when Master Draco called me."
Draco gaped at him. "You have? Why didn't I know of this? Does Father know?"
Dobby wrung his hands. "No, Master Draco Malfoy sir! Dobby did not tell because Master Draco did not ask and Master Lucius Malfoy did not either."
Draco exchanged glances with Harry. "Merlin's wand! I didn't know house elves even dreamed!"
Harry frowned. "I think they do a lot more than wizards think they do. I know Prissy does."
"What's that look for, Snape?" Draco huffed.
Harry snorted. "You shouldn't think that someone's beneath you because they work for you."
Draco frowned. "Oh, like you don't think so? You have a house elf too!"
"I know. But Prissy is free and is paid," Harry argued. "Not only that, but even when she belonged to Marlene, she helped me and that crazy witch never knew about it."
Draco shrugged. "Your point?"
Harry sighed. "My point is that Dobby's not just your servant, he has feelings and thoughts too. And you ought to respect them."
Draco rolled his eyes. "Oh, for the love of—shelve the lecture Snape! You sound like your American cousin with all his talk about equality and whatever. My father always said that house elves were born to serve a family and that's how it's always been."
Harry scowled. "That doesn't make it right." Then he shook his head, not wanting to waste time arguing with Draco when he could be finding out what Dobby had dreamed. "Dobby, have you had dreams like this before?"
"Only once, Master Harry Potter-Snape," the elf admitted. "Dobby is not a Dreamer, like some of his line. But sometimes gets feelings . . . strong feelings . . ." The elf shivered.
"Okay. And these feelings . . . told you to come warn me?" Harry probed.
"Yes, Master Harry Potter-Snape, sir!"
"So what feeling did you have this time?"
"Dobby woke up feeling that he must warn Harry Potter-Snape about a grave danger." Dobby reported.
"Can you tell us what sort of danger?" Harry prompted.
The elf hesitated. "A dangerous beast stalks Harry Potter-Snape . . ."
"A dangerous beast?" Draco queried. "Like what?"
Harry was frozen. He knew what beast . . . or at least he thought he did.
"A dangerous beast made long ago . . .when Draco Malfoy's grandfather Abraxus Malfoy was alive."
"Does it have a name?" Harry asked softly.
Dobby nodded. "It was known as the Wizard Slayer."
"A dragonelle!" Harry hissed.
Draco shook his head. "That's impossible. They were all destroyed."
"Not all, Draco Malfoy. One survived."
"How?" Harry asked.
Dobby spread his hands. "Difficult to say. But . . . it is a magical creature and so lives very long . . .unless it is killed."
"Dragonelles are difficult to kill," Draco recalled. "It required at least three wizards and witches to do so, at least according to what I read."
Harry nodded. "Why?"
"Because, Harry Potter-Snape, a dragonelle is immune to most magic," Dobby told him.
"Hmm . . . except for a potion or weapon with salamander blood," Harry reminded.
"Yes, or a potion that contains a dragon's tear," Dobby recalled.
A dragon's tear? Harry thought excitedly. I have two of those from Isolde. One of them was on his amulet of protection. The other he had given to Severus. "What does the potion do?"
"Dobby knows only that the potion will make the dragonelle weak."
"So spells can affect it?" Harry mused.
"Yes, Harry Potter-Snape. A potion made from tears of a dragon will make whatever or whoever drinks it able to be affected by magic for a time."
"How do you know this?" Harry wondered.
"Because it is part of the old magic, Harry," squawked Loki, who had been napping on his perch. Now he was awake and listening avidly to their discussion. "Dragons, ravens, even house elves all bear some of it within them."
Draco glanced at the young raven. "And you know all this how?"
"My mother taught me," answered Loki calmly. "And she is among the most powerful of our kind, a spirit avatar."
"Is the dragonelle part of the old magic?" Harry wondered.
But both Loki and Dobby shook their heads.
"No, Harry Potter-Snape," Dobby disagreed. "That beast was not born—it was made. By a bad wizard."
Loki made a gagging noise. "That thing is no true creature. It is a construct made from magic to kill wizards. Fah!"
"Are there any other weaknesses you know of?" Harry pressed.
But Dobby and Loki shook their heads.
"Thank you for warning me, Dobby," Harry said. "But you better go back to your house before someone misses you. Thank you for your information and kindness."
The elf beamed. Then he bowed to Harry and popped off to Malfoy Manor.
Draco and Harry looked at each other. "I need to tell Dad," he whispered.
"Maybe he can help you brew it," suggested the Slytherin, still marveling over his house elf.
"That's what I'm hoping." He looked over at Loki. "Do you know what potion Dobby was talking about, Loki?"
But the small raven shook his head. "No, bran-boy. But my papa might. Or my mama, or her wizard, Ghost. They say that evil Grindelwald once went over to America to hide . . . and any dark practitioner would be known by the shamans of Windfar."
"Was Ghost alive then?" asked Draco curiously.
"No, silly snakeling!" Loki laughed. "He is only a few years older than Papa's Sev. But he might know someone who was . . . or is still. A Windfar shaman can live very long—if the Creator wills it."
"Hmm . . . I'll ask Dad first. If he doesn't know, then I'll see if Ghost does," Harry mused.
"That's if you believe my house elf's dream isn't just nonsense," Draco smirked.
Harry scowled, looking eerily like his adopted father. "I don't think it is, Draco. He'd hardly come and look for me if it was a joke or he wasn't sure it was real."
The Slytherin shrugged. "Believe what you want, then, Snape. But I've never heard of a house elf being able to prophesy."
Harry went quiet then, not wanting to reveal that Dobby's dream was actually the truth. He knew he had to keep the dragonelle a secret until Dumbeldore or Snape said he could reveal it.
So he said instead, "Did you see the stupidity Lockhart is making us do for homework? Write a poem about his travels with werewolves and what he wears?"
Draco made a gagging noise. "It's utter rubbish! We're not learning anything in Defense except what Lockhart wore to dinner! It's a waste of time!"
"Tell me about it," Harry grumbled. "I'm thinking about not even doing it."
Draco goggled at him. "Snape, have you gone mental? The professor will skin you if you don't do your homework."
Harry sniffed. "He might if it was any professor other than Lockhart. He hates that idiot."
"Yes, but . . . if I were you, I'd do it even though it will put you to sleep. I mean, the professor doesn't like Binns either and you still have to do your History of Magic homework," Draco pointed out.
"Are you going to do it?" Harry demanded.
The blonde boy sighed. "I suppose so. It's a waste of time but I don't want to get points taken away for not doing it. That's just dumb."
Harry gnawed his lower lip. He knew Draco was right, but the rebellious part of him whispered that if he didn't do his homework Lockhart would probably not even care. I'll tell him I was answering a letter from a fan and he'll just let it go, Harry thought, even though a small voice whispered that he shouldn't use his fame to get out of school work, even if it was pointless busy work.
"I don't know why Dumbledore even hired him." He groused to Draco. "He talks about nothing but himself all day long . . .the only thing I've learned in his class is how to bore an enemy to death!"
"And what socks to match with the shirt for an interview after you've made whatever it is drop dead," Draco giggled.
Harry smirked. "Dante says Lockhart's so stupid it's a miracle he's still breathing."
"Can't argue with that." Draco smirked. "Got to run, I have practice."
"Hey, how does it feel to be Seeker?" Harry called after the Slytherin.
"Okay . . . now quit fishing, Snape, because I won't tell you anything about our strategy," Draco ordered.
Harry rolled his eyes. "I didn't ask, you prat! See you on the pitch!"
Draco waved as he left Snape's quarters. Harry heaved a sigh and decided to call Prissy for a drink and a snack before he started on his homework.
He finished his Transfiguration and then attempted to start on his bloody poem for Lockhart, but after ten crumpled parchment balls he growled, "I can't do this stupid poem! And I'm sick of trying. I'll just tell the blonde bimbo you ate my homework, Loki!"
The small raven trilled a laugh. "Now why would I want to eat paper? Yech!"
Harry cocked an eyebrow at him. "Don't worry. You don't really have to eat it." He scowled ferociously at the parchment balls now littering the sitting room. "Maybe I'll light them on fire—"
"Excuse me?" a familiar silky voice interrupted.
Harry spun about so fast he nearly gave himself whiplash. "Uh . . . hi, Dad!"
Severus entered the suite, and frowned in disapproval. "Harry, what in Merlin's name-?" he began, staring down at the parchment balls all over the floor.
"I'll clean it up," his son said hastily.
"Why is there a mess all over the sitting room?"
"Uh . . . it's because . . . I was trying to do stupid Lockhart's assignment and I couldn't . . ." Harry grouched.
The Potions Master arched an eyebrow. "Why not?"
"Because he doesn't want us to learn defense . . . he wants us to be his biographer!" his son cried. "And I'm not going to!" he declared defiantly.
"Lockhart needs to be smacked upside the head with a two by four!" Skull shrilled.
"I couldn't agree more," Snape said drily. "However . . . What does he want you to do?"
"He wants Harry to write a poem!" Loki squawked.
Severus' eyebrow almost vanished into his hair. "He wants you to write a poem?" he repeated in a dangerous tone.
"Yes . . . about him . . . and I tried and I can't do it," Harry snapped.
"Did he say what the poem had to be about besides him?" queried Severus, a wicked smirk on his face.
"Uh . . . not really but we have to mention something he's wearing in it. Why?"
Severus plucked a piece of parchment off the table. "Because if he wants a poem . . . he'll get one . . ."
"Dad!" Harry groaned. "I'm no good at writing poetry."
"I'll help you," Skull said.
"I shall also," agreed the Potions Master.
Harry's jaw dropped. "You will? But . . . but I really need to tell you something. It's about the dragonelle . . ."
Severus looked at him. "Let's finish this first, son. Then we can discuss other things."
"Let's not and say we did," his son hissed under his breath. He wrote on the top of his parchment The Way Lockhart Fights a Werewolf. "Okay. Now what?"
"Write this down," Snape instructed, smirking diabolically. He began to dictate, with Skull adding a line here and there.
"Pink pants and a paisley tie,
Look at me, what a guy!
I dress to impress,
Just ask any girl over twelve in a dress,
Everyone knows my name,
I'm famous!
What can I say, it's okay,
I'm Gilderoy!
From Transylvania to Penzance,
Just ignore the werewolf's teeth in my pants
Hey, you're ruining the weave!
I think I'd better leave . . .
Crooked nose, a pointed snout—
Watch it! That's fifty Galleons you just ripped out!
Everyone knows my name,
I'm famous!
Brilliant hair, a sparkling smile,
I'm Gilderoy!
Ahh! Put me down, I'm not a chew toy!
I know you worship me, but please!
Your fur, it tickles, I'm going to sneeze . . .
Merlin have mercy—my hair!
You chewed me bald, it's so unfair!
My fan club will be so upset—
Grrowlll, rroooww, chomp, crunch!
And that's what werewolves eat for lunch."
Harry nearly fell off the sofa, he was laughing so hard.
Severus was chuckling darkly, his obsidian eyes sparkling with humor. The two ravens were also giggling.
"Holy Merlin, Dad!" Harry gasped, wiping his eyes. "That was bloody brilliant!"
"One does one's humble best," the Potions Master smirked.
"I can really use this?" His son asked.
Severus nodded. "That," he pointed to the parchment with the assignment, "—is some of the worst drivel I have ever seen. It has nothing to do with learning Defense and everything to do with inflating that ignorant buffoon's ego. Therefore, you may have my help in deflating it."
"I really wish Dumbledore would sack him," Harry hissed. He wondered what Lockhart would think of the poem and hopefully wouldn't fail him over it. Then again, he had done the assignment, even if he had help, Harry reminded himself.
"I wish he had never been hired in the first place," muttered Snape. "What was the Headmaster thinking?"
"Maybe he was drunk," offered Loki.
Severus rolled his eyes. "Who knows? But now we must play the hand we're dealt."
Harry tucked the poem away in his Defense folder and put it in his bookbag. Then he came to sit on the couch beside his father. "Dad, I need to tell you something."
"Yes, you mentioned that before," the professor murmured. "I'm listening."
Harry told him about Dobby and the elf's dream and what he had said about making a potion out of a dragon's tear.
"I didn't know if there was such a potion, and I wanted to ask you first," his son said.
Severus looked astonished. "While a dragon's tear is a component in some drafts, I have never heard of the potion you mentioned. Then again, it could have fallen out of use because the dragonelle was though to be extinct. I shall need to research it. Perhaps Lena and Irma can help. If there is nothing here in the school library, I shall have to travel to Ravencrest Castle and see what the Society library has."
"If you do . . . could I come with you?" Harry begged.
"Harry, you have school," Severus began.
"I know, Dad, but if you go on a weekend, then can I come with you?" he pleaded, giving him a Look with his brilliant emerald eyes.
"Quit looking at me like that," his father ordered, concealing a sigh. "What would you do if I did take you with me?"
"Read some books. That's what you do in a library," Harry remarked cheekily.
Severus waved a finger. "Don't get smart with me, mister. I'll think about it. Although the Society castle is hardly the place for two children, I shall see if the Ravenmistress will oblige me this once."
"Yes!" Harry cheered, pumping a fist in the air. Loki squawked, nearly dislodged from his perch on the boy's shoulder.
"Hey!"
"Oops! Sorry, Loki," Harry apologized.
The clock on the mantle chimed half-an-hour before supper. Severus glanced at the door. "Dante should be coming back from his Herbology class. Go and wash up, it's nearly supper, Harry."
"Okay, Dad," Harry agreed. He stood up, Loki still on his shoulder. "Hey, Loki. Did you know you were named for the Norse God of Mischief?"
"Of course!" trilled the raven. "Papa says that is a proper name for a raven."
"He's right," Severus said. "All ravens are tricksters and as mischievous as a pack of pixies."
"I know!" Loki said proudly.
"And Callie is named for a goddess too," Harry remarked. "Calypso was a goddess in Greek mythology."
"Which is why her mother and I chose that name," Skull chirruped. "Calypso was the daughter of Titans, immortal, though she fell in love with mortal Odysseus of Ithaca. Her name means to "hide knowledge". We ravens are good at keeping secrets."
"That is true," Severus agreed, thinking of all the secrets his raven had kept for him over the years.
Harry smiled, then went into the bathroom, saying to Loki, "So what tricks did you and your siblings play on Ghost?"
Amid the sound of water running was also laughter, as Harry listened to Loki telling him of the playful pranks they pulled on the shaman and the people of Windfar. Someday, Harry hoped they could go and visit his teacher there . . . once this new threat was taken care of.