Chapter Text
A week passed before the atmosphere at Hogwarts returned to normal. Or so it seemed to Albus Dumbledore, who watched the students from the professors’ table in the Great Hall. Instead of discussing the disappearances of Severus Snape and Bertram Aubrey, the students were once again discussing the topics that had occupied them before everything had happened.
He himself was still shaken by the conversation he had had with Nero Prince on the day he had last—so far—seen young Snape. He couldn’t remember anyone ever treating him like an insignificant decorative element. Prince did that and made Albus feel like dirt under his shoes without using a single insult.
Suddenly, the voice of Horace Slughorn, who until recently had been as moved by Severus Snape’s departure as he himself, broke into his consciousness. Now he seemed to have got over losing not one but two promising students. “You seem uneasy, Albus. Are you still dwelling on past events? I understand that losing a student with such connections is unfortunate, but… The only thing we can do in this situation is to move forward without looking back.”
Albus sharply glanced at the wizard sitting next to him. He wanted to call him a fool, but the spark of amusement in Horace’s gaze stopped Albus in his tracks. The Slytherin head was simply mocking him, and he didn’t hide it. Slughorn was one of the few wizards who wasn’t impressed by his achievements, and whom Albus couldn’t make silent by his mere presence next to him.
He silently reached for his wineglass, swirled it, and instead of draining it, set it back down. Only then did he say, “I’m simply devastated that someone with Severus Snape’s potential will not receive a proper education. The homeschooling the Lord Prince told me about cannot compare to what we can provide this boy at Hogwarts. Bertram Aubrey’s parents made a more sensible decision.”
“I am forced to agree with you. But not entirely. Mr Aubrey is the type who thrives in company. Severus blooms in solitude. Besides, both boys will escape what you feared, Albus, so I don’t understand your mood. Shouldn’t you be happy that two students will avoid being recruited into the Death Eaters? Wasn’t that the reason you always supported Potter and his friends, not my students?”
“What are you talking about, Horace?!” Albus raised his voice, stunned.
Slughorn stood up and said, “You’re the one who said you didn’t want to waste your time on those who would follow Tom. You said that every time I brought the things between Slytherin and Gryffindor to your attention.” He left the table, leaving Albus stunned by what he had heard. For the next few minutes, Minerva tried to engage him in conversation, but he ignored her, his mind still processing their Potions Master’s words.
xxx
It wasn’t often that someone would drive Horace to the point where he wanted to resolve an argument with a punch in the jaw. And that had happened twice recently—twice because of the same person. The worst part was that he himself had once been very much like him. He paid attention only to students he considered worthy. Tom Riddle—known to others as Lord Voldemort, among other things—had changed his approach to students.
Many of them, despite their young age, were as adept at manipulating others as adults. Sometimes, even more so.
Tom Riddle, Abraxas Malfoy, Thorus Nott… Even Fleamont Potter and Xenophilius Lovegood. There were only a few, from many, examples of those who were able to hide their nature so well that no one would suspect them of wrongdoing.
More and more often, Slughorn found himself unable to continue as a professor at Hogwarts. That was why he was so determined to keep Severus under his wing. Snape wouldn’t be a perfect teacher, but he would ensure the safety of every student in his care. Although perhaps he should have clarified and said that Severus Snape would ensure the safety of every Slytherin.
When he finally reached his chambers, he put on the kettle to make himself a decent cup of coffee and then went to the classroom to check on the stations before the first group of students arrived for the day. A group that, in his eyes, was the worst possible—fifth years, a combined group of Slytherin and Gryffindor students.
“Yes, I’m definitely too old for this,” he muttered to himself as he realised that, contrary to appearances, he had been a teacher at this school since Albus Dumbledore was just a youngster. “Time to think about retirement.”
While Horace Slughorn was pondering his future, Severus Snape was trying to adjust to his current life. He had already met Marcus Prince, his grandfather’s brother and Nero’s father, and his second wife. Soon he would meet his uncle’s brother—a Squib who was an archaeologist and was currently on a dig for the British Ministry of Magic.
Sitting over his Latin assignments, he couldn’t focus on them. His mind kept wandering to one question: “What happened to his family? Why didn’t he know about them?” until he heard the door to the library where he was studying open. When he saw his uncle, finally dressed in something other than a suit, he asked, “What happened? Or perhaps I should ask if something happened that you are interrupting my time with Latin?” he spoke bitterly.
“Morning letters are here,” Nero said, approaching him. After placing several envelopes on his desk, he added, “Apparently, you have more friends at Hogwarts than you thought. I placed the letter I received from young Aubrey’s parents on top, thinking you might want to read it.”
Severus felt a lump in his throat at the thought of Bertram, too, getting a fresh start in a place free from prejudice against Slytherins—it turned out the Beauxbatons students had welcomed him much more warmly than those at Hogwarts. “I’m not used to reading other people’s correspondence,” he muttered, placing his hand on the envelopes. “Did my mom contact you?”
“She wrote to my father. Eileen always was not only difficult but also incredibly stubborn. I know she’ll need time to decide to return home.” Nero sighed, ruffling hair with his fingers. He looked as if he’d just got out of bed. “Your uncle, I mean your grandfather, spoiled his daughter terribly, so she always had to get her way. Now she’s probably angry that you approached us without asking her. You’ve dealt her an affront she can’t handle.” He curled his lips into a smile that wasn’t there in his eyes.
It was obvious from Nero that he was tired—mentally and physically. Severus, having got to know him a bit, asked directly, “I know something’s going on. I mean, I know something’s bothering you, and I’d like to know what is going on.”
“You don’t have to worry about that. You’re still a child, and you don’t have to worry about such things.”
Severus began almost instinctively, “But I...” before realising he couldn’t say what was on his mind. Not now, not until he understood what had actually happened to him. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t...” He was an adult, but not to the wizard looking at him.
“You have nothing to apologise for, Severus. I’m your guardian, and my job is to ensure your development and not to burden you with things that adults should handle." He walked towards the door, and when he reached the threshold, he added, “My job is to give you the tools to face difficulty when it’s your turn to fight. Not to bother you with a burden that belongs to me. Now, get back to your studies. In an hour, my father will be here to check on your progress—that wizard can be tiring, but there’s no malice in it.”
When Severus was finally alone, he took a deep breath, then whispered, “I need to learn self-control.” He then reached for the first letter Nero had brought. He wanted to see who had written him; he hadn’t had time to read them all. “Aubrey’s parents, Lily, Bertram, Malfoy, Cissa, and...” The last envelope had no sender on it, but Severus still knew who the author was. He’d looked through enough papers in his final year at Hogwarts—while helping an increasingly weary Slughorn—to know that the last letter was written by Sirius Black. “Bloody hell! What does that mutt want from me?!?”
Orion had a hard time waiting until Tom Riddle had finished his far too long monologue before deciding to speak. “You’re naive if you think Severus will convince the Princes to choose a side in this conflict. And I’ll have to call you a fool if you think you’ll force them to choose you.”
He recalled his encounters with Marcus Prince and his son. Back then, Eileen’s father was still the head of the family, but the two of them still carried themselves as if they considered anyone outside the family unworthy of their attention. If Orion had known they’d welcome Severus back into the family, he would have made sure Sirius knew to leave the boy alone the day he first learned of their conflict—for their family’s safety.
“Do you know each other?” Tom asked, meeting his eyes. His gaze held suppressed irritation. At moments like these, Orion grew tense, for he knew what was coming—Legilimency, which the Dark Lord used whenever he was unsure of someone’s truthfulness. Year after year, Riddle grew increasingly paranoid. “Could you tell me more about them? It’s best to start with how you met…”
When it came to the relations between the Blacks and the Princes, he had nothing to hide. “The lords of my family have repeatedly tried to arrange a marriage between the heirs of both families. The last to attempt this was my father. He wanted to arrange a marriage between Eileen and Alphard. My brother-in-law was, and probably still is, in love with her.” He stood to stretch his legs and take a moment to think. When he was ready, he said, “This family… Let’s start differently. Every magical family has a talent in their blood that occurs more frequently in that family than in others. Just like Metamorphmagi in my family. The Blacks have always married into other families to…”
Tom interrupted him, saying, “I think I know what you’re getting at. What talent might the Princes possess?”
“Clairvoyance,” he replied without hesitation. “I suspect that gift was present in Eileen. Her, being a seer, would be the simplest explanation for her interest in a Muggle who had nothing to offer her.”
“Is there anything else you’d like to tell me?”
A memory, one of the earliest he had, of the duel between his father and Augustus Prince flashed through his mind. He felt the same terror he had felt then. And just as then, he was still convinced of the truth of what he thought. “I think the members of this family could pose a problem for us. Of course, if their training is as high as it used to be.”