Severus and Petunia's Nephew

by Trygvasson

Summary:

One year after Voldemort killed Lily and James Potter, Severus Snape pays a visit to Number 4 Privet Drive. He has a duty to Lily Evans, the best friend he ever had, and therefore to her son and her sister. He finds himself assuming the role of the child's uncle. As it happens, the friendship between Severus Snape and Petunia Dursley changes both of them, both of their lives, Hogwarts, and their world's future for the better. (It's so much easier to be a good person when you're not clinically depressed, afraid for your family, or stuck in your past trauma).

This is a lengthy story meandering through Harry's childhood, with eventual plans to see it through his Hogwarts years and a very different resolution to canon. But in the meantime, the goal is cuteness and exploring a world with better-adjusted adults in it.

Chapter 1: One Year Post Mortem

Severus Snape hesitated for a long time on the doorstep to Number 4 Privet Drive, possibly the most overtly normal-muggle house he had ever seen. It had been a year since Lily's death. A long, sickening, bloodsoaked year in which his own espionage activities had finally paid off in the arrests of five Death Eaters and the deaths of six as they resisted arrest... Eleven men and women he would have once called friends. Friends he betrayed for the sake of another dead friend. The difference of course was that Lily's friendship had been genuine, once. Such was war. Screwing up his courage, Severus finally raised his hand to knock on the door. The sound of little feet pounding towards him on the other side of the door gave him palpitations.

The door swung open, revealing a chubby three-year-old who looked almost nothing like the Potter infant Severus recalled. This must be the cousin, he realized. Petunia's muggle son.

"Dudders!" Petunia called from down the hall with a tone of loving exasperation. "I told you to wait for me! Who is it, sweetie?"

"Dunno, Mum! It's a man!" The child hollered.

"You don't know?" Petunia suddenly sounded worried. She cared for and was overprotective of her child... just as Lily had been. Severus felt a shiver of guilt threatening his careful composure. Then Petunia walked through the kitchen door into the foyer, holding Harry Potter on her hip, clearly still half-way through getting him dressed for the day as the toddler wore his baggy shirt around his neck only. She was holding his face against her neck, hiding the scar Severus knew was there on his forehead. Petunia froze when she saw him, eyes wide. The instant her contented mother's smile left, she looked just as she did the last time he saw her as a teenager: drawn, suspicious, and angry. "Severus?!"

Severus' mouth was dry. He licked his lips and bobbed his head. "Hello, Petunia."

"Wh- what are you doing here?" She grabbed her own son's collar and pulled him behind her.

"I..." He looked down. "Icametoapologize," he said in a rush. He looked back up at her. Now her expression was Lily's: mixed skepticism and curiosity. He hastily looked away from her and found himself looking face-to-face with Harry instead, who had turned to look at him now that Petunia had let his head go. Severus had never been this close to the boy, only seen him in pictures except for that last horrible night in the darkened house. He had never seen his eyes before. His face was his father's, but his eyes were Lily's. Suddenly, he found himself crying, and not subtly either. No, his shoulders shook, and his breath quickly turned to sobbing gasps.

"Severus, control yourself," Petunia hissed. "The neighbors will see you and talk..." Severus registered what she said, and recognized the wisdom of the words. He was here in uncomfortable muggle clothing for a reason, after all. But he couldn't control himself. "Honestly... get in here." She stepped aside, grabbed his arm, and pulled him in, shutting the door behind him. She pointed to the left. "Go wait in the living room. I'll join you in a moment." Severus did as he was told, squinting through his tears to find a couch to sit on. He tried to take deep, calming breaths, but it didn't work very well. Distantly, he heard Petunia talking to the children, her voice high and falsely cheerful. "Dudders, I want you to go up to your room and play, okay sweetums?"

"But who is-"

"I have to talk to him about boring, adult things, sweetie. You don't need to listen to that nonsense. Go play with the new blocks your Auntie Marge got you. You can build a tower and show it to Mummy later, okay?"

"Okay!" the child enthused. He thundered up the steps moments later.

"Harry," Petunia sighed. "You wait in the cupboard." In the cupboard? Was poor Petunia was trying to hide the boy from him? The thought was both depressing and ridiculous, but then what choice would the muggle woman have? She was relying entirely on the spells Dumbledore had placed on her, her nephew, and her home, and yet here was a wizard on her doorstep despite her caution. Severus did not know how much detail she had been given about the war and about the arrangement to protect Harry through her familial ties, but she clearly knew enough to recognize the danger her family could be in if the wrong people knew about them. The wards only kept out evil magi; a determined Death Eater could still hire a muggle arsonist if such mundane methods occurred to them. These thoughts were finally sufficient to pull Severus out of his self-centered grief to control his tears somewhat. He wasn't here for himself. He was here for Lily. He pulled out a handkerchief, wiped his face, and blew his nose. By the time Petunia reappeared with two cups of tea, he was even breathing normally again, although he still dabbed at his eyes.

"Thank you," he said as she silently offered him a cuppa. They both sat and sipped tea for a moment, not looking at each other. Severus eventually sighed and set his tea down on the low table between them. "I'm sorry."

Petunia snorted. "For what? For dragging my sister into your insane world or for showing up on my doorstep after all this time and breaking down?"

"For getting Lily murdered," Severus said softly. "I'm the reason her family was targeted in the wizarding war." Petunia's eyes widened with righteous fury. He cringed a little. "It was not my intent," he assured her quickly. "But it was still my fault, in part."

Petunia frowned and shifted. She sighed as well, breath hissing out between her teeth. "I know you wouldn't try to hurt her intentionally, Severus. Even after your infamous breakup."

"Pardon?"

"When you two stopped being friends. When you were sixteen."

"She told you about that?"

"Of course she did. You were her best friend for so many years..." She glared at him again. "I never liked you, but that Potter boy was worse."

It was Severus' turn to snort. "He was."

"So, why are you here? And why now?"

Severus shrugged. "It's safer now. All of the Dark Lord's followers have been captured, killed, or otherwise dealt with at last. It has been long enough, no one will be watching my movements."

"Oh, thank God," Petunia said.

"I would not endanger you, or the boy, or your other family through carelessness. Never again," Severus assured her. "As I said, I came here to apologize. To you, and to him."

"He's not even three, Severus, and he doesn't know what happened," Petunia said crossly.

"He doesn't? Well, I suppose he is rather young. No reason to traumatize him yet."

"And he's never going to know," Petunia said firmly.

"What?" Severus asked, confused.

"He thinks his parents died in a car crash, and that's all he will ever know. He's not going to Hogwarts. He's not going to be a wizard. He's going to be normal."

Severus stared at her, incredulous. "Petunia, that's..." insane. "We already know he's a wizard. He has to go to school when the time comes."

She shook her head. "He's my nephew. My husband and I have talked about this. We'll put a stop to his magic if and when it manifests."

Severus couldn't help it. He rolled his eyes. "That's impossible."

"I'll be the judge of that."

"No, Petunia, listen to me. That has been tried before, and it is not only impossible, it is dangerous. Magical children cannot control their magic. There will be accidents, like Lily had, like I had. If you try to suppress them, the worst thing that could happen is not that you fail. The worst thing that will happen is that he tries not to be magical, and then the magic within him will turn dark and violent. Children affected this way are called Obscurials. They never reach adulthood, and they usually end up injuring or even killing multiple other people around them before they die."

Now Petunia was the one on the verge of tears. She set her own teacup down with a rattle. "I don't want this," she whispered. "I just want a normal life, especially after what ha-happened to L-l-lily, and M-m-m-mum."

Severus closed his eyes against another round of tears. Lily's father had died years ago, but her and Petunia's mother had been murdered by more of the Dark Lord's followers bare months after Lily herself. They had been after Harry, of course. It was bad luck someone tracked down Lily's childhood home and that Mrs. Iris Evans still lived there. Severus had been visiting his own mother at the time, saw the Dark Mark, and intercepted Elyan Pyrites while he was reading Iris' address book for clues where to look next. The man had just identified Petunia as Lily's older muggle sister and practically crowed in victory. Severus won the ensuing duel. Alastor Moody took the credit for the dead man to keep Severus' cover. "I know," he said quietly. "When I heard Dumbledore had sent the boy here, I knew this would be hard for you, that you would resent it, and that you were being very brave to accept him." He opened his eyes. "That's why I'm here. I came for Lily, which means for her son but also for you. Even though we were never friends, even though the two of you had your differences, Lily cared for you. I don't want you to be alone in this."

"I...thank you, Severus." She fidgeted slightly. "But what does that mean? I definitely don't want even more wizardry in my house."

Severus smiled. "No, I understand. I don't really know what I mean, I think. I would like to be a resource for you, a link to the wizarding world you may call on as-needed. But I won't be moving into the neighborhood or anything like that. I won't impose myself."

"Thank God." Severus snorted. Petunia smiled weakly. "I-I think I will need to think about this more. If what you say about accidental magic is true, then... I must speak more to Vernon about it. My husband. Anything you can do to help us avoid accidents would be much appreciated, I'm sure." She hesitated. "Is it safe to let him out of the house now? We've been keeping him hidden for the whole year, but it's hard. He doesn't understand, and my Dudley doesn't either. He only knows Harry isn't allowed outside, and that we all pretend Harry doesn't exist when we go out to the store, and he thinks it's funny..."

"You can let him outside," Severus said quickly. It had never occurred to him, nor he was sure to Dumbledore, that Petunia would be quite so paranoid, but he supposed it made sense in retrospect. Dumbledore should have updated her long before this, he realized. Poor Petunia and her husband would be going mad with uncertainty; that was no environment for two young children. He should know, from his own troubled childhood. "It was Dumbledore's intention for you to be able to raise him as a normal nephew, not some great secret. You don't have to worry about keeping him out of sight anymore. There are no wizarding families living in Little or even Greater Whinging, and we have taken steps to conceal your whereabouts from any wizards or witches who might have known Lily had a sister. No one on our side knows he is with you except for Albus Dumbledore, myself, the need-to-know officials in the Ministry of Magic, and a few other of Lily's and J- Potter's most trusted friends, and even fewer have access to your address." Severus himself only knew Petunia's address because of the duel with Pyrites.

Petunia fell back in her chair. For the first time, she smiled. "That is a relief." She raised her eyebrows. "You really didn't like James Potter, did you?"

Severus grimaced. "No, I hated him. He was a bully at school. He was the main reason for the fallout between me and Lily. It rankles me no end their son looks so much like him, in fact. But I'm willing to put that aside for Lily's sake."

Petunia gave a short laugh. "You would. You were smitten with her, and I sense that hasn't really changed." Severus winced and blushed. He'd been jealously possessive of Lily's friendship ever since he earned it and had certainly been confused about his own feelings on the matter when he was a hormonal teenager. It was only later that he decided he truly never felt a romantic interest, and it was embarrassing to contemplate now. Fortunately, Petunia politely ignored his discomfort. "Are we really safe, Severus?"

He nodded again.

"You're sure?"

"The war is over, has been for months. The zealots on the other side are all gone. Any who sympathized with the Dark Lord who remain free are too afraid of the law to come after Harry."

She smiled again, wider. "I can't tell you how grateful I am that you came here to tell me that. This year has been a nightmare."

"Harry still needs your protection," he warned her. "Bringing him back into our world too soon could stir up hidden passions again. But here, he's safe, as are all of you. If you want, I can ask Dumbledore to contact you as well to verify what I've told you."

She shook her head. "No, thank you. I remember when Dumbledore came to the house when Lily got her letter. He could never blend in this neighborhood as you can." Severus chuckled, imagining it. She was right. "Do you want to meet him? Harry, I mean." she asked.

"Er, yes, please."

She nodded, got up from her chair, and walked back out to the hall. He heard her murmuring to Harry but this time could not really make out the words, as her son (Dudley, was it?) seemed to be jumping around in the room above him. She returned shortly, leading Harry by the hand. Severus studied him and realized what Petunia had meant about the whole family pretending Harry didn't exist. The clothes he was wearing were clearly his cousin's cast-offs, and they did not fit him at all. He wondered uneasily if the child even had a proper bed to sleep in or instead had some kind of makeshift sleeping area in a closet somewhere so the family could hide his existence if needed.

"Harry, this is Severus Snape," Petunia said quietly. "He's your, ah..."

"Half-uncle," Severus supplied. Lily had told him her father had been married and divorced before meeting her mother, and Mark Evans had died five years ago, so it was a safe enough cover. Merlin knew he had aged more than he should with the stress of the war, not to mention the amount of dark magic he had had to use to survive it. He could pass as Petunia's older half-brother if he must.

Petunia's lips thinned, but she smiled and nodded as Harry looked up to her. "That's right. You mother was close with him when we were younger. You can go say hi." Harry let go of Petunia and cautiously toddled up to him, staring up at him with those wide, green eyes. Now Severus could see the curse scar on his forehead. It was the shape of a lightning bolt. "Hi Uncle Seffawuh," he said, his child's tongue struggling with the unfamiliar name. He stuck out his tiny hand.

Severus smiled. At least he was a polite little boy. He took the hand and shook it gently. "Nice to meet you, Harry. You can call me Uncle Sev," he said. "Your mum always called me Sev."

Harry grinned. "Uncle Sev," he repeated.

Steeling himself, Severus reached further and picked little Harry up to set him on his knee. "I loved your mum very much, Harry, and I want to get to know you and be friends with you too, okay?"

"Okay," Harry said, nodding.

Severus had never interacted with such a young child before, not as an adult, so he was unsure what to do or say next. "Have you been a good boy for your Aunt Petunia?" he asked. Harry nodded dutifully. Severus glanced up at Petunia to find her biting her lip to keep from laughing at him.

"Your Uncle Sev doesn't have too many other kiddos to talk to, Harry, so you and Dudley might have to teach him how to play later. He was always very serious," Petunia said. "Why don't we take a little walk to the park and get ice creams? You get to come too, Harry, since Uncle Sev is here."

"Really?!" Harry asked, his eyes lighting up. Petunia nodded. "I get go outside?" Petunia grinned and nodded again. "Yay!" He suddenly hugged Severus. "You come all time, Uncle Sev?" he gushed.

"You'll see me again."

"Go get your socks on while I get Dudders and find you some shoes," Petunia said.

"Okay!" Harry slipped off Severus' lap and ran from the room as fast as his short and poorly coordinated legs could carry him.

"I've got some of Dudley's old trainers I was saving for Harry, but I don't know how well they'll fit," Petunia murmured to Severus. "Could you... resize them?"

"Of course," Severus said.

Petunia nodded tightly. She left him, and moments later he again heard her talking to Harry in the hall. "Harry, take these to Uncle Sev. He'll help you get them on." Then, "Dudley! Mummy's coming upstairs!"

Harry reappeared with a pair of scuffed shoes. He was grinning at Severus triumphantly. He tripped on his too-long pants and fell to his knees, dropping the shoes as he did. Severus leapt up immediately and then knelt beside Harry before the child had a chance to attempt to right himself. "Are you alright?" he asked.

"Yep," Harry said. He grabbed a shoe and held it up to Severus. "Help, pwease?"

"I'll help," Severus agreed. Harry wriggled around on the floor until he was sitting on his bottom with his feet in front of him. His socks had holes, Severus noticed. He took out his wand and waved it at the socks. "Reparo." Then the pants, and the shirt. "Reducio." Now they fit much better.

"Cool! Daddy do that!" Harry enthused.

Severus touched a finger to his lips. "You mustn't tell anyone, Harry. This is our secret."

"Okay!" the boy whispered loudly.

Severus turned to the shoes. The fit wasn't bad, actually. Only one size too large. Still, "Reducio." Now the fit was perfect. He smiled at Harry, picked him up, and set him on his feet. "Well, you're getting to be a big boy, with your own shoes and everything. Ready to face the world?"

"Yeah!"

---

Petunia was humming to herself in the kitchen while she cooked dinner. She was watching Dudley and Harry through the window as they played in the fenced-in back yard, enjoying her rare time to herself without one or both of the boys underfoot. She and Severus had taught them the basic concept of football after lunch before Severus had left, using an inflatable beachball that was light enough for them to kick around with ease, and the game proved exciting enough that both the cousins had put aside their usual animosity to keep playing together for the past few hours. Dudley had even taken a break to proudly show Harry all his other toys and favorite activities in the yard, which Petunia found quite touching. She turned down the heat on the stove as soon as she heard the front door open and close, the noise punctuated by Vernon's unmistakable sigh of contentment to be home for the day. She hastened to meet him in the hall, threw her arms around him and kissed his cheek happily. Surprised, he held her for a moment and kissed her hair. "You had a good day, dear?" he inquired.

"I did. I had a visitor, who brought us good news."

"Oh?"

Petunia nodded. "It was... well, it was one of them, actually, someone I knew growing up. He says we're safe, Vernon! No one's looking for Harry any more!"

Vernon's eyes widened, and he hugged her tightly. She warmed to feel he still had a lot of muscle under the increasing paunch he had been developing from stress-eating for the past year. "Petunia, that's wonderful."

"I know."

"So... what now?"

She snuggled against him and smiled. "Well, for one, he and Dudley are currently playing football outside in the back yard. Together."

"You think that's alright for Dudders?" Vernon said nervously. He was such a wonderfully normal man, one of the reasons Petunia had fallen in love with him in the first place. He had been unnerved by the existence of the occult from the moment Petunia had told him about Lily, but he had stuck by Petunia despite her odd family, for which she was very grateful. His discomfort with it had only gotten worse in the past year, naturally.

Petunia nodded. "I turned out alright growing up with Lily, didn't I?"

He kissed her lips this time. "You did. I suppose it will be better for everyone if those boys can tolerate each other." And if Vernon could tolerate Harry without constant anxiety about Dudley and Petunia. Vernon did not have to love Harry, and Petunia doubted he ever would. But she knew he would try to respect their nephew for her sake, if she asked him to. And as for herself, well, she would try to love Harry, a little, she decided. Enough to show him affection, not just worry about him.

"Less headaches for me, that's for sure," Petunia admitted. "We'll talk more later, once the boys are asleep. Things will change, now, they must." She straightened up and smiled up at her husband. "Now, you go watch them play while I finish dinner. It's so cute."

Vernon smiled, mustache rippling. "I will."

Chapter 2: Reentering Society

Summary:

Petunia reconnects with the next-door neighbor, and gains a pen pal

"Morning, Petunia!"

Petunia turned to see her next-door neighbor, Mrs. Rachel Hanson, was also taking her bins out just now. "Good morning, Rachel."

Rachel smiled and ambled over, dusting her hands on her apron. She was a little older than Petunia, with subtle grays streaking her blond hair and a much rounder, more matronly figure than Petunia's. "I saw you had visitors the other day! Dark haired man, dark haired boy... are they friends or relatives?"

Petunia made herself keep smiling. Rachel was another stay-at-home mother, and just as nosy as Petunia. Unlike Petunia's life, Rachel's was currently rather dull, or at least it had been the year before, when Petunia had also had very little to occupy her mind. The two of them had spied on each other and gossiped together frequently before Harry came to live with the Dursleys; it appeared Rachel had kept up the spying independently. "Relatives," Petunia answered. "The boy is my nephew, Harry. He lives with us, now."

"Really? Since when?" Rachel asked, obviously surprised.

"Oh, a good while," Petunia said vaguely. She did not want to try to explain why Rachel had never seen Harry before in the year he had been living at Number 4.

"Hmm..." Her eyes narrowed knowingly. "Was that his father, then?"

"Ah, no," Petunia said. It hadn't occurred to her people would mistake Severus for Harry's father, but she supposed it wasn't impossible. Their faces were very different but they did have the same color hair, even if Severus' was straight and unfortunately rather greasy compared to Harry's unkempt waves. Even both their eyes were green, although Severus' were so dark as to appear brown or gray at a distance, not Harry's and Lily's clear emerald. "That was his other uncle, my brother. Harry's parents... they both died last year. In a car crash."

Rachel's eyes widened, and her expression softened sympathetically. "Oh... I had no idea. But I suppose that's why I've seen so little of you, you poor dear. I know your mother had passed as well; I saw the obituary. Heart attack, was it? So much turmoil in the family in one year! Oh, isn't this just a string of bad luck?"

"Er, yes," Petunia said uncomfortably. "Look, I still need to feed the boys breakfast, but why don't you come around for a cuppa later this morning, and we can catch up?"

"I'd love to. Emma's going to her father's for the weekend after school, so it's just me in the house anyways."

Ah, separated or possibly divorced, Petunia concluded shrewdly. The last time she had spoken to Rachel, the woman had been complaining about her daughter acting out, but Petunia had already suspected the ten-year-old was reacting to the tension in the parents' marriage... She blushed a little, realizing how much she had been craving some normal, non-magical gossip and drama, and not just the soaps on daytime telly. "Around ten, then?"

"Ten it is."

---

Ten o'clock rolled around, and in short order, Petunia was fully apprised of all the neighborhood news she had been ignoring for the past thirteen months. Rachel was currently separated from her husband, but the divorce was to be finalized in early January. Emma was still acting out in school, but less than she had been since the official separation and since Rachel and her husband had been seeing a counselor, for their daughter's sake. The empty house on Wisteria Walk had finally been sold to an elderly widow named Mrs. Figg, who according to Rachel owned at least six cats. Emma had insisted they try counting through the windows the other day, apparently. Ironically, that meant Mrs. Figg's neighbors were now looking to sell their house, as both of them despised cats. "And let's see, old Mr. Johnson at Number 8 had a stroke two months ago, but he's been doing well enough since he's been home. His wife says they'll need someone to do the yardwork next year, though, since he won't be able to himself, not safely. Oh! And Mrs. Jones at Number 7 is expecting again, did you know?"

"Oh, how wonderful for her. This will be her third, right?"

"That's right. She's hoping for another girl, I think, but her husband wants another boy."

"I'll have to tell him two boys so close together are too much of a handful."

Rachel cast a glance back into the living room, where Dudley and Harry were happily watching Mr. Men cartoons for the past twenty minutes. "Are they too rambunctious, or do they not get along?"

Petunia shrugged enigmatically. "It's been a big adjustment for both of them, with lots of tantrums unfortunately. Dudders never had to share us before."

Rachel nodded. "And now he's having to share his parents, his space, his toys, and meanwhile little Harry has to get used to a whole new house and family... poor little tykes. Well, I guess the only small blessing is that since they are both boys, at least you can reuse some of Dudley's old things."

"Yes and no. Dudley's always been so big for his age, we had already gotten rid of most of the clothes that would have fit Harry better. We're also in the market for another bedframe now, as Harry is outgrowing Dudley's old crib." It was a small lie. The night after Severus' visit, Vernon and Petunia had decided to move Harry up to the smaller spare bedroom, which they were mainly using for storage, including of Dudley's crib. As it happened, Harry had quite outgrown it already when they checked, and with the old baby gate broken, Petunia had decided it was safer for him to keep sleeping downstairs for now, even if it was in a storage cupboard, until they had a free weekend to clear out some of the old furniture and things and buy a new bed and baby gate.

"Oh! Would you want to take a look at Emma's old things? She's gotten so big, we decided to replace her bedroom furniture with a regular adult set from my parents, since they're down-sizing. It's nothing special, just a day bed and a night stand, and they're painted pink right now, but you and the boys could have fun re-painting them, and it would certainly be cheaper than buying new..."

Petunia raised an eyebrow. Between Vernon's promotion last year and Petunia's inheritance from her mother, they didn't particularly need charity, but it was worth considering. "I'll speak to Vernon this evening. Maybe we'll come 'round tomorrow to look at it."

"Wonderful. I might even still have some red enamel paint in the garage you could use on it. I'm sure Harry won't care that much about the color, but he might like it more than pink. It would be good for him to have something that feels like his own. Emma was around his age I think when she started that phase." Petunia smiled. Dudley was certainly in that phase. Everything was "mine, mine, mine," and it was a great struggle for him to share. She looked back towards the boys in the other room thoughtfully. Harry wasn't that much younger than Dudley. She realized that even though Harry had been with them for over a year now, even since Severus had visited and lifted the weight from her head of constant worry of some sinister wizard attacking them, even though she knew he must be traumatized by the loss of his parents and naturally looking to her for comfort, she hadn't really been thinking of or treating him as a regular child. She had been treating him like a job, feeding him, dressing him, hiding him, and absent-mindedly soothing his tears without actually trying to relate to or understand him. He was a too-serious child, quiet much of the time, but prone to fits of crying that rarely seemed to relate to anything tangible, unlike Dudley's more predictable tantrums. He was only occasionally laughing and exuberant as he should be. At least that had improved in the last few weeks since he was allowed out of the house and Dudley was playing with him more. Rachel was right. It would do Harry some good to start making this house feel like a home to him.

Petunia sighed wistfully. It was nice, talking to Rachel about parenting, but it made her realize just how much she missed her own mother, and her mother's advice. She felt lost with two such young children sometimes, and she still didn't feel comfortable talking to Vernon's parents about Harry's situation. They had never even met Harry, as both struggled with heart problems and diabetes and rarely left their home in London.

The two women chatted awhile longer. Rachel stayed for lunch, fixing peanut butter sandwiches for the boys while Petunia made tuna sandwiches for the two of them. As she was leaving that afternoon, she called from the front step, "Oh, Petunia, there's a package for you out here!" Petunia followed her out, and Rachel beamed as she handed over a flat parcel wrapped in brown paper. It looked like a book. "I suppose it didn't fit through the letter slot. Funny I didn't notice it on my way in."

"Oh, thank you."

"See you tomorrow, dear." She sauntered off.

Petunia closed the door behind her and proceeded back into the parlor. Oddly, the package had no return address on it, nor any of the customary stamps of the postal service. She carefully unwrapped it and found it was, indeed, a book. A handsome new journal, actually, with a lock on it like a little girl's diary. It wasn't locked though. She opened it up and found the key was tucked inside the front cover. The first page said very simply For Petunia. She turned another page and found a letter was written on the verso.

Dear Petunia,

This journal and another exactly like it in my possession are enchanted with the Protean charm. What this means is that changes made to one copy will cause identical changes in the other. To be exact, any words you write in yours will be immediately reflected in mine. I thought this might be a better alternative than relying on either muggle or wizarding post if you desired to get in touch with me, faster, more reliable, and far less conspicuous. Additionally, the cover is spelled to be impervious to ripping or to fluids. If for some reason you wish to dispose of it, you will have to burn it (not that I expect this, but I thought it best you know). Finally, the lock is enchanted against picking, both magical and mundane. If you lose the key, I will have to make a new one for you. If there is anything I can do for you, any question I can answer, do not hesitate to ask. You may consider this an early Christmas present, and you may rest assured I neither require nor expect a gift from you in kind. With your permission, I would be happy to send modest (and non-magical) Christmas presents for the boys as well, although I might need some advice as to what would be appropriate.

Best regards,

Severus

---

In the evening one week after he sent Petunia the enchanted journal, the rustle of paper from the corner alerted him to a new message, the first he had received in several days after an initial flurry of note-writing. He picked up a self-inking quill from the desk, strode across the room, sat down in the arm chair, and took up the journal from its place on the end-table.

Opening it up, he read, Question, how are you planning to deliver the boys' Christmas gifts? -P

Severus frowned for a moment's thought before writing back, Hmm...the most realistic options for me would be owl post or an in-person delivery. Unlike many wizards, I do of course know how to use the muggle postal system, but I fear I would be more likely to attract unwanted magical attention lingering in a muggle post-office than apparating directly to your neighborhood or even owl post, since I am not known to have any muggle acquaintances outside my estranged family. -S

What the bloody hell is owl post? -V

Severus grinned. Vernon Dursley's occasional comments in these written conversations were always entertaining. The wizarding community uses trained and magically sensitive owls to deliver our mail, Vernon. -S

HOW DOES THAT MAKE SENSE? - V

Severus snickered. He supposed it was an odd system on the face of it. We need an entirely separate system because of the International Statute of Secrecy and because many magical buildings are unplottable, meaning muggle postmen would never be able to find them even if they knew the address. Britain's owl system predates the modern era. I would be happy to acquire a copy of Bathilda Bagshot's A History of Magic for you if you have further questions about it, as frankly I never found it interesting enough to say more than that. -S

I just told him you people are weird, accept it, and move on. -P

Severus sighed. Back to business. Petunia had barely changed at all in ten years. Thank you, I suppose. Would you prefer an owl or a visit? -S

Petunia is voting for a visit, says she doesn't want a rain of owls for the neighbors to gossip about. But are you sure no one would notice from your side? I don't want any more wizards around my family than absolutely necessary. -V

As I mentioned, the risk of my being noticed is far less if I travel directly to your neighborhood via apparition, precisely because there are no other magical families in the vicinity. We know this. -S

What is apparition? -P

Oh, sorry. You might describe it as teleportation. Instantaneous travel from one location to another, within reasonable distances. Britain is small enough I can reach you easily from either my workplace or our old neighborhood (my mother still lives there). -S

So you'll just appear in our house? -V

I could, if that is your preference. It is usually considered more polite to appear somewhere in the neighborhood and then walk to the house, though. -S

Oh, good. That's alright then, I suppose. But won't the neighbors see you? -V

I have ways to avoid that. -S

Well, don't let them see you appear, but they should be able to see you walk up to the house, maybe from the direction of the bus stop. Rachel at Number 2 already spotted you the last time, and she's such a gossip I'm sure everyone else knows about my 'half-brother' already. -P

I shall take that under advisement and look for the location of the bus stop before I come. When would be a good time to visit? -S

Two days before Christmas? Sorry, I don't think we're quite ready to have you meet anyone else in the family, and Vernon's sister is coming Christmas Eve. -P

I understand. Perhaps an evening visit would be less obtrusive? Let's say seven o'clock so you have time for tea before I arrive? -S

Yes, that works. See you then, Severus. -P

Severus waited for a moment, but there was nothing more. He looked over to the broken student's desk in the corner. He was planning to transfigure it into a backyard goal set to go with the cheap football he had acquired at a muggle shop near his mother's house. The truth was, he could hardly afford anything better. Like many of magical Britain's lower and middle classes, he had been bankrupt by the end of the war. As Hogwarts' junior-most staff member with the exception of the annual Defense Professor, his salary saw the worst cuts as a significant chunk of the school's budget was redirected into scholarships in the Destitute Orphan's Fund. His only other income was the odd potion commission. If he did not have room and board at Hogwarts, he would undoubtedly have had to move back into his old room in his mother's house at Spinner's End, where the two of them would be subsisting on cheap grains and cabbages. His mother had even less of an income than he did; one of her cousins had been a Death Eater and shown up to murder Severus' muggle father and punish his "blood traitor" mother for marrying the man. Eileen Snape née Prince had never told her son what exactly had happened, nor had Cousin Drussus when Severus had tracked him down to exact revenge along with one of his more blood-thirsty auror acquaintances, but the event had left his mother incapable of working.

How ironic Petunia had persuaded Vernon that he of all people was the one wizard who was "absolutely necessary" around his family. Little did they know...but he would do nothing to disabuse them of their half-decent opinion of him.

A new note popping up in the journal caught his eye.

You'll have to forgive Vernon, Severus. We both agreed not to try to hide magic from Harry once he gets a bit older after what you told us about the risks, but he's very nervous about all of this. Thank you for offering to come after tea. -P

Severus smiled mirthlessly. I thought it highly presumptuous to invite myself over at all, let alone at meal time. -S

Well, maybe eventually I'll understand what Lily saw in you and get around to inviting you myself. -P

Severus bit his lip. He had never really done anything special to earn Lily's friendship. He was just the convenient only other wizard child she knew at first. He had done plenty to destroy their friendship. He hesitated before writing back, I shall do my best to earn your respect, and Vernon's. I do not expect it will be easily won, and perhaps that is best. -S

It took even longer for Petunia to respond, this time. You're still strange, Severus, and cryptic too. See you in two weeks. -P

Severus snorted again. He probably deserved that.

Notes:

Three notes for this chapter. First, the Protean charm is the same one Voldemort uses on the Dark Marks and that Hermione uses on the DA coins in book 5. It's quite a difficult charm, but I thought enchanted paper for "wizard texting" would still be an extremely practical use for it. Second, there's no mention of what actually happened to Snape's mother in the books, only that he had inherited her house by Book 6, at which point he would have been in his mid-30s. Since he was a half-blood, seems logical there could have been a Death-Eater "honor killing" in the background targeting his abusive muggle father. It's really no wonder so many of the younger adults in the Harry Potter world are so socially handicapped, coming straight out of the wizarding wars. Finally, the concept of the "Hogwarts Destitute Orphans Fund" as far as I know originated in the excellent fanfiction Harry Potter and the Natural 20.

Chapter 3: Almost Christmas

Summary:

Severus visits Privet Drive for Christmas

If anything, Severus felt rather more distinctly out-of-place standing on the snow-dusted front step of Number 4 Privet Drive holding a large, gift-wrapped parcel than he had the last time he was here. At least his mother had asked no questions when he appeared at her house earlier today asking her to help him wrap it; he could not bear the thought of some of his Slytherin students spotting him walking through the dungeon with such a large, brightly-colored present.

Yet again, he felt palpitations as tiny feet pattered towards him on the other side of the door. This time, both Harry and Dudley were there to open it. "Uncle Sev!" Harry yelled immediately and wrapped his little arms around Severus' knees. Merlin's beard, this child was affectionate.

Dudley elbowed Harry out of the way soon enough and beamed up at Severus as well. "Big present! Can I ope-it?"

"That's for your mother to decide," Severus informed him, twisting a smile down at the two young children. "And it's for both of you, so you will have to open it together when the time comes."

"Boys! Get out of the way and let your uncle come in out of the chill," Petunia said as she came into the hall. She looked a little harried, but she grinned at Severus and stepped forwards to take the box from him. "There's no tripping hazard like a toddler," she commented. "Come into the parlor, Severus."

He followed her through the house to the sitting room, which had quite transformed for the holiday since the last time he was here. There was a set of electric coals glowing in the hearth, five stockings lined the mantle, and a fully decorated Christmas tree almost completely obscured the window with an astounding number of presents clustered at its base. Petunia added his to the pile then turned and gestured to a portly man with a thick, blonde mustache sitting on the couch. He bore an eerie resemblance to Severus' old potions master Horace Slughorn, who he had replaced at Hogwarts just months before Lily's murder. Although the longer he looked, he decided the similarity for the most part was only in body habitus and facial hair.

"Severus, this is my husband, Vernon."

Severus nodded politely. "I'm very pleased to meet you."

Vernon met his gaze, his rather small eyes narrowing further. His mustache twitched, and he stood up. The couch made a crinkling sound as the weight left it, and Severus realized it had a clear plastic cover. If that was there before, he had either forgotten it or failed to notice it through his nerves last visit. Vernon held out a hand, jarring Severus' irrelevant observations. "It's good to finally meet you too, er, Severus."

Severus could not help but grin at Vernon's clear distaste for the Latin name as he shook the man's soft, pudgy hand. That was not an uncommon reaction among muggles, he had found. "It's an odd name, isn't it? A bit of a mother's family tradition, using old Roman names. I often go by 'Sev,' and sometimes even claim it's short for 'Joseph,' or once an Eastern European 'Sevastian.'" This was absolutely true; he had hit upon the strategy as a child, where his name was a frequent excuse for bullying amongst his muggle neighbors, including Petunia once upon a time. More recently, it was just common sense to use an alias on his rare forays into the muggle world, given his wartime activities.

Vernon's expression relaxed slightly. "I might introduce you as Joseph or Sev to my sister if you ever meet her, if you don't mind. My folks never had much interest in history or, er, creative naming."

"Perfectly understandable." He felt a tug on his trouser leg and looked down to see Harry gazing up at him. The child grinned as soon as he successfully attracted Severus' attention and lifted his arms. This was new. Severus hastily thought back to his own childhood, trying to determine if Harry just wanted a hug or wanted to be picked up. He quickly decided it didn't matter so long as he responded promptly. He smiled a little more easily now, then bent down and lifted the toddler up into his arms. "How are you, Harry?"

"Good." Harry wrapped his arms around Severus' neck for a short hug, then leaned back again to see his face better.

"Did you do anything fun since the last time I was here?"

Harry nodded enthusiastically. "Auntie Petuna gah new bed! Was peen, buh we pain-ned wed! An wen park. An sween wevey high. An..." Severus struggled to comprehend his rather poorly articulated speech which seemed to be half babbling and half identifiable words, although he supposed this was probably normal or even fairly good for an excited two-and-a-half year old. Certainly, the boy was more talkative than the last time Severus had seen him.

There was another tug on his trousers, this time from Dudley. Unsure how to manage two of them, Severus looked at Petunia, who waived him towards the abandoned couch. Severus gratefully sat down, keeping Harry in his lap, and Dudley climbed up next to him and started nattering in his other ear. "I help pain' Harry's new bed! Mummy oney-le me finger pain' on car-board ou-sigh before. This dime, I had bwush."

"Ah. Did Harry help too?"

"Yeah, he puh yeh-woh has on it." Dudley mimed slapping his splayed hands against something. Severus was unsure what was meant and glanced over at Vernon, who had settled into an armchair by the hearth now that the couch was occupied. Petunia had momentarily vanished.

Vernon's mustache twitched again, this time resolving into a full smile as he explained, "The neighbors had an old twin bed set we were able to reuse for Harry. Petunia and the tykes had a grand old time painting it red and yellow. Biggest mess I've seen in a long time, but Petunia was ready for that with tarps that should just wash off in the weather eventually, clever girl."

Red and yellow. Gryffindor colors, Severus thought with a pang. He had to remind himself even if it were intentional, it was probably for the best since both Harry's parents were in that house. There would never be a reason for Harry, let alone the Dursleys, to share Severus' prejudices at Hogwarts.

Petunia reappeared with a tray of cookies and cocoa for everyone. Dudley at least was instantly distracted. "You each get one," Petunia said firmly.

Dudley looked up at Severus hopefully. "Can have two? For Chwistmas, Unco Sev?"

That kind of appeal to authority Severus was only too familiar with from the Slytherin students. He shook his head. "That's up to your parents, not to me."

"Awww!" Dudley tried to thwack him, but Severus caught his fist easily. His reflexes were much faster than a three-year-old's. Dudley looked surprised to be thwarted, however.

"And none of that, Dudley. It's not nice to hit people."

Harry laughed, as did Vernon.

"Dudders!" Petunia scolded. "Say sorry to Uncle Sev."

"But-"

"Diddykins, do this for Mummy."

"If I struck my uncle, my Mummy wouldn't let me have even one cookie, or cocoa," Severus told the boy gently. He probably wouldn't have had dinner either, and may have garnered a thrashing even at age three.

Dudley stuck out his bottom lip but grudgingly bobbed his head at Severus. "Sorry, Unco Sev."

"Apology accepted." He took two cookies from the plate Petunia offered and gave the first to Dudley, the second to Harry. Fortunately, Dudley's good mood returned almost instantaneously with the treat.

Both the boys completely involved with munching cookies for the moment, Vernon cleared his throat. "So, what are you doing for work lately, Sev? Petunia hasn't heard much from you..."

"I took a teaching job at my alma mater last year."

"Oh, really? Teaching is good. Very...respectable, I suppose. And before then, you were, ah... nevermind. Still in school probably..." He trailed off as Severus raised his eyebrows and tilted his head pointedly towards the children.

"What do you do, Vernon?" Severus asked smoothly. Vernon gratefully started rambling on about his administrative job at a drill manufacturing company. It sounded incredibly boring to Severus, but at least the pay was good, and it was admittedly much better than being a double-agent in a violent terrorist collective. He noticed Harry had created a great number of crumbs while eating his cookie and managed to spread part of it on his face, so he leaned forwards to pick up a napkin to clean up somewhat as he listened. Amusingly, Dudley noticed the extra attention Harry was getting and immediately dipped his hand into his cup of lukewarm cocoa to splash onto his own face. Severus handed him a napkin as well but did not clean his face for him, reasoning the child could probably figure out how to do it himself if he was clever enough to try manipulating Severus in this way. He would not be doing Petunia any favors if he rewarded that kind of behavior on these visits, even if the Slytherin part of him was mildly impressed. He next helped Harry sip at his own cup of cocoa, judging the mug too heavy for him to safely handle even with the straw Petunia had included, at least not while he was still sitting on and therefore endangering Severus' lap.

Dudley became bored as soon as he finished his cocoa and had wiped his face. Severus was glad Hogwarts was not open to any younger children, if this was representative of their typical attention spans. Eleven-year-olds were difficult enough. "Mummy, can ope Unco Sev's presen'?"

Petunia glanced at Vernon and eventually nodded. "That might be best, since he won't be here for Christmas when we open the rest."

Dudley immediately whooped, slid off the couch, and ran over to the tree. Severus took Harry's half-empty cup of cocoa and gently urged him to follow his cousin. At least Dudley waited for Harry to join him next to Severus' present before he started enthusiastically tearing off the wrapping paper. Fortunately, Harry did not seem to resent Dudley's starting first and happily participated in shredding the paper. Harry would have had difficulty opening the box inside by himself anyways, Severus thought, watching as the two boys lifted the lid together, Dudley doing most of the work. Dudley's face lit up as he peered inside the box. "There ball!" he cried. He leaned over the side to extract the football. This he handed to Harry and then reached back in to pull out the partially assembled goals. He scrunched up his face studying these while Harry rolled the ball around. Finally, he looked up at Severus. "Whad is it?"

"It's a backyard football set. I thought it might be more fun for you and Harry this summer to have a proper football rather than the inflatable ball we were playing with before. And those are some proper goal posts and nets made for kids your size, so you don't have to use flower pots. I can help you two assemble them, or your parents can."

"Oh!" Dudley immediately picked up one of the goals, trying and failing to figure out how it fit together and stood up. Harry abandoned the ball and tried to help him, although mostly he just flipped the slack net around.

Severus breathed a sigh of relief the gift appeared well-received, simple as it was. He smirked at Vernon, who was also smiling as he watched the boys. "The assembly is pretty straight forward dove-tail joints. No drill needed, I'm afraid. I might have found a different model had I known." He reached for the plate of cookies and the cocoa he had not yet tried.

Vernon chuckled. "Ah, well, I got my Christmas bonus anyway, even without your custom."

"Thank you for the present, Severus." Petunia said. "Boys, do you want to go get the cards you made for Uncle Sev?"

"Yeah!" Harry shouted. He rushed out of the room, Dudley hot on his heels. They returned shortly, Harry now yelling "Me firs!" He thrust a folded piece of red paper into Severus hands. Not at all sure what to expect, Severus accepted the card to see it was covered in red and green circles on the outside, and a much more complicated and inscrutable, multi-colored scribble inside. Petunia had neatly written, "Happy Christmas, Uncle Sev! Love, Harry" on the right-hand page.

"This is very nice, Harry," Severus said. He could appreciate the sentiment. Secretly, he was grateful he did not have a refrigerator or other cabinetry on which he might be expected to display such things as this where anyone else would see them.

"Here mine," Dudley said, shoving a green card under his nose. The front of this one was decorated with a rough, darker green triangle Severus presumed to be a tree. The inside held several blobs of intersecting lines that were possibly meant to be snowflakes or stars, as well as another note from Petunia. It was no more sophisticated work than his younger cousin's.

"Thank you very much, Dudley."

Petunia handed him one more card, but this one was in a sealed envelope. "You can open it later," she said.

"Thank you." He tucked all three cards inside his jacket where the lining was sewn to make a large pocket.

"Alright, Dudley, Harry, bedtime! Say goodnight to Dad and Uncle Sev."

"D'we haf to?" Harry and Dudley chorused.

"Yes, you do, because it's Christmas Eve tomorrow! You want to be well-rested for when Auntie Marge comes!"

"Goodnight, Dudley," Severus said before more protests could arise. He hugged the muggle boy gingerly and then nudged him towards his father. "And goodnight, Harry." He folded Harry into his arms for much longer, as if he could give the child Lily's embrace.

"G'nigh, Uncle Sev," Harry said innocently. When Severus finally released him, he turned and waived at Vernon. "G'nigh, Uncle Vernon."

"Good night," Vernon rumbled, nodding back at him.

Petunia led the two of them out, calling over her shoulder, "Good night, Severus, if I don't see you when I come back down."

"Good night, and Happy Christmas," he called after her. There was a moment of silence then as Severus sipped his cocoa as fast as was polite, now the time was nearing for him to leave. "How old is Dudley?" he asked eventually.

Vernon raised his eyebrows. "Two-and-a-half, just a month older than Harry."

"Hmm. I thought he was older." Severus would have sworn he was three, or even four, comparing the two. Of course, Vernon Dursley was a much bigger man than any of the Potters or Evanses Severus had ever seen.

Vernon's chest swelled with pride. "He's a strapping lad, always has been." Severus nodded vaguely. He was more concerned that Harry might be lagging behind his cousin more than he should than that Dudley was particularly advanced, but he didn't know enough about young children to really say, particularly after just two meetings. Vernon cleared his throat. "Er, so, what was your work before your teaching job? I gather you weren't actually still in school? Petunia says your lot typically only study until age seventeen."

Severus met his eye and raised an eyebrow. The man's tone was definitely confrontational now the rest of the family was absent. "That is correct, except for certain specialized occupations. There was a full-out war going on in our society at the time Lily and I graduated. Like her and her husband, I joined the fighting."

Vernon paled somewhat. "Ah... you were a, er, a soldier then? Officer or enlisted?"

Severus shook his head. This wasn't a good topic for small talk, but it would probably be worse to be silent. "Nothing so organized. Think less Battle of the Bulge and more French Resistance," he said, referencing the only modern muggle military history he retained any real grasp of, mostly because of the overlap with Grindelwald's wars.

"So... blowing up bridges and sabotage and things, eh?"

Severus closed his eyes for a moment. "Not exactly. It was not a territorial war but a multi-fronted ideological one targeting people and institutions, not infrastructure and land. A civil war. You don't want to know the details, trust me."

Some of the redness returned to Vernon's face, mostly to his nose. "Killed people up close, did you." He wasn't asking this time.

Severus felt his own face grow cold. His voice was soft and flat when he answered, "I survived the war that killed a third of my generation in magical Britain. Make of that what you will."

Vernon glared back at Severus. "I've got all the respect in the world for our veterans. My dad himself was in the RAF. But I don't like the sound of this 'disorganized' war of yours. You seem a respectable and tactful enough chap, I'm willing to suffer your presence for Petunia's and the boy's sake, but you keep your dirty laundry out of sight. I don't want you filling the boys' ears with firefights and assassinations. You're a teacher now, and that's all you ever were so far as Harry and Dudley know, understand?"

"I understand and agree completely, for now."

Vernon squinted at him. "For now?" he repeated.

Severus shrugged. "I am in your house and will obey your rules as much as I am able. But I am more concerned with honoring Lily Potter than Vernon Dursley when it comes to the well-being of her son, no disrespect meant to you. There will eventually come a time when Harry will have to learn about the war that took his parents, and I prefer not to lie to him about it, at least not in any way that matters." He raised a hand in peace. "That time is far away yet, of course, and I would never seek to tell him about all that without first discussing it with you and Petunia. And I have no intention of ever sharing grisly details inappropriate for children."

Vernon huffed for a moment, then sighed. "You're a slippery one, aren't you? Bet that's why you're alive and my in-laws aren't."

Severus cringed. "Partly, but they were also targeted directly by the Dark Lord."

Vernon nodded tiredly. "Yes, that was in the letter we got when the boy came to us." He grunted. "If I'm prickling at you, it's not your fault, mostly. It's all this magic nonsense. I don't like it. I don't like that I can't do anything about it."

Surprised the muggle man was being so seemingly honest with him, Severus lightly, cautiously, held Vernon's gaze and let himself feel the surface of his thoughts. Frankly, the man seemed completely petrified that he was sitting across from what was basically an armed and dangerous hardened killer, so far as he was concerned. Vernon had been watching him closely, and everything had confirmed what he had already feared: Severus had the potential to be very dangerous. It was only Severus' and other wizards' good will that left Vernon's home under his control. The only things keeping Vernon from panic at the thought of a killer wizard in his house were Petunia's trust, and the fact that Severus wasn't hiding how he felt about Harry, which was both extremely nervous and protective. That was exactly how Vernon felt about his own family at the moment. Severus withdrew from Vernon's mind and thought carefully, trying to come up with something to say to reassure the man that wouldn't sound merely placating. "That's why I'm here, Vernon, to be the means by which you and Petunia regain some measure of control over your situation. I'm not here for my government or any other authority. I'm only here for Lily. She was the best friend I ever had."

Vernon studied him a bit longer, then nodded tightly. "Come on, then, I'll walk you out, and I won't even throw you out, at least not this time."

Severus grinned again as he stood up. He did enjoy the muggle's gruff sense of humor. "I appreciate it."

Notes:

While writing this, it just felt completely natural for Snape to easily identify and correctly respond to Dudley's young child manipulative tendencies lol. He's a Slytherin, and the same behavior in older children is what he is used to. Really connecting with Harry will be much harder for him. You'll also be glad to know this will be the last chapter with such baby-speak. God, two-year-olds are hard to write. Internet says only 50% of their speech is supposed to be comprehensible to strangers. I wrote Dudley a little ahead of Harry here even though they're only a month apart in age because Harry basically shut down emotionally and therefore a little developmentally after his parents were killed and he suddenly moved to this scary new home. He'll catch up easily.

I feel like I'm making this Vernon a little more intelligent than the one in canon, since he's subtextually noticing concerning things about Snape like he's quick to assume other identities, can clearly blend in when he wants to, and has quick reflexes, plus remains extremely cagey when confronted about it, then making accurate conclusions about his observations. In my defense, our view of Vernon as readers is almost entirely Harry's view. In any case, while Snape might be an okay match for Petunia given their history and her willingness to blithely accept and ignore strangeness so long as it is out of sight, Vernon would probably have been more comfortable with someone less obviously dangerous, if such a wizard or witch could be found (alas, most all the other candidates would stick out like sore thumbs in Little Whinging).

Chapter 4: Holidays at Hogwarts

Severus endured Christmas at Hogwarts more easily this year than he had the year before, knowing what to expect as a staff member. It helped that the war was over, so the vast majority of students had actually gone home, now that their parents were comfortable letting them leave the fortress. He could focus all his energies on the delicacies of socializing, rather than policing corridors filled with idle-handed and stir-crazy teenagers.

Severus had never particularly enjoyed Christmas. His family had always been poor, and the holidays therefore a stressful expense filled with more arguments than cheer. He had never exchanged presents with anyone besides his parents and Lily prior to last year, but as he had learned to his embarrassment, it was customary for the Hogwarts staff to exchange some small gifts between them. Not to be caught flat-footed this time, he brewed a batch of Pepperup potion on Christmas Eve and decanted individual doses for each of the Hogwarts staff, as well as three doses which he owled to his mother. He had modified the recipe to increase its shelf life, and to cause the potion to turn from red to black when it expired. The remainder of the cauldron he brought up to the hospital wing to supplement the Hogwarts mediwitch Poppy's usual supplies; no doubt the students would be bringing all sorts of annoying viruses back from their younger siblings at home.

On Christmas Day, he dutifully opened the gifts the house elves had arranged at the foot of his bed overnight so he could thank the other staff appropriately later. Albus' package was on top, containing thick woolen socks and an obviously hand-knitted jumper; these were same gifts as last year except for the color. An odd custom of the Headmaster and Supreme Mugwump. From Minerva, he received a tin of biscuits, from Filius Honeydukes chocolate, from Rolanda and Nicolaus several chocolate frogs. David and Bathsheda both sent assorted teas, although David's were clearly from a muggle shop rather than the tea room in Hogsmeade, so they were probably either much better or much worse. More practically, there were three venomous tentacula leaves from Pomona and a jar each of murtlap tentacles from Silvanus and Poppy, all of which would be useful additions to his own potions supplies. He was not entirely sure what was in the small box from Rubeus and resolved to ask at dinner if he was unable to sufficiently analyze it himself. Irma had provided an updated master reference list of the library's potions section, wrapped around a single candy cane. The unwrapped tin of Lautley's All-Purpose Buffer Solution was definitely from Argus even though it lacked so much as a note, and it would be useful for neutralizing the rare potions spills that could not simply be vanished. Petrus' gift of a latest edition of Anaxagoras' Astronomical Implications in Essences and Alchemies was unsurprisingly the most valuable, as the Parkinson family was quite rich and had weathered the war surprisingly well. And from his mother... more socks. That was normal from a mother, he thought. Albus was the strange one. The only person missing was Luna, the current Defense Professor, which he thought was perfectly understandable since she was both new and probably more focused on fortifying her office, revising her will, and job-hunting for the next year, in that order. And Sybil, but he was fairly sure she disliked him ever since their first inauspicious encounter at the Hogs Head.

In sum, most of the gifts except Petrus' were simple and similar to what he had unexpectedly received the year prior. Severus found that reassuring; it meant he could probably brew some Pepperup or other harmless and mildly useful potion every year rather than come up with something more creative or individualized.

At Christmas dinner, he sat far away from Albus and so was not forced to pull any Christmas crackers. Instead, Luna was the one who ended up with a terrible hat. The worst thing to happen was when Sybil came downstairs and distributed her Christmas cards, which she explained all contained personalized Tarot readings in lieu of some other gift. Severus' read "Someone near to you is in mortal peril. Happy Christmas, Sybil." He surreptitiously read Petrus' card as well, "The dark substance of your mind will never return. You will never smell roses again. Happy Christmas, Sybil." He wondered if she hated all Slytherins, or if all her readings were like this. He vaguely recalled getting a card last year with a similarly dire and cryptic message, yet that had remained ultimately unfulfilled as far as he could tell. These readings seemed to carry neither the same weight nor specificity as the genuine great and terrible prophesy he had overheard almost three years ago, so he decided to ignore the warning. By the end of the day, nothing caught fire, no one had started shouting in his vicinity, and Poppy at least thanked him for the Pepperup. So far as Severus was concerned, the day was a success.

When he returned to his quarters, he wrote in the Protean journal, Happy Christmas -S

Happy Christmas, Severus. -P

---

A quiet and boring week later, Happy New Year -S

Happy New Year -P

Severus wrote nothing for Valentine's Day, of course. The next holiday was not one he celebrated, but he wrote all the same, Happy Easter-S

Happy Easter -P

By then, Severus was going slightly mad checking the Protean journal every evening, with nothing ever written in it. No questions, no random updates. Nothing since Christmas. Had the visit gone that terribly badly? He hadn't thought so at the time. Perhaps it should not be this important to him, but there was simply so little else in his life that was particularly interesting since the end of the war. There was just work, the endless drudgery of vanishing poorly-executed potions and reading poorly-written essays. Even the spectacle of Professor Luna Ticklet's slow descent into madness and paranoia had now reached its anticlimactic conclusion; she had submitted her two weeks notice on Monday along with impressive, book-based, individualized self-study plans for all of her students and suddenly taken up meditation. Work felt so... meaningless, when the majority of students did not understand his subject and worse, did not want to. Severus had never really developed other hobbies, and his mild obsession with Lily's son was the only other distraction he had presently.

The weekend after Easter he paid a visit to Spinner's End for his mother's birthday, which it seemed his mother was even less interested in celebrating than he was. She had invited no one else, and technically had not even invited him. Lacking other ideas to ease her lonely melancholy, Severus retrieved some muggle currency from the stash he kept in his old room and picked out a small, cheap cheesecake at a local muggle supermarket. While he was there, he perused their calendars for sale, idly looking for other muggle holidays. He unenthusiastically played a round of gobstones with his mother before heading back to Hogwarts that evening.

Several weeks later, he wrote in the journal, Happy May Day, Petunia. I haven't heard from you in awhile. How are you, and how are the boys? -S

Two hours later, she wrote back. Thank you, Severus. It has been a good year so far. The boys are growing. Harry seems much happier this year than last year. They do squabble a lot, but I suppose that's to be expected at this age. We set up the football set you gave us for Christmas a few weeks ago, and the boys have loved it so far. It was such a good idea to teach them a game that requires more than one person to play. Harry especially is getting surprisingly good at it. He's gotten to be very nimble on his feet. Dudley used to always win at first because he was bigger and could run faster, but Harry gets around him more and more. -P

Severus found himself sneering slightly and forced his face smooth again as he replied, reminding himself Harry wasn't Potter senior. I shouldn't be surprised. His father was quite the athlete in school. -S

Interesting. I didn't know that. What sport? -P

Quidditch. It's one of ours played on broomsticks in the air, and there's really no muggle game I can compare it to. -S

Hmm. Is it a ball game at least? -P

Yes. -S

I might tell Harry that. Vernon was a boxer and still follows all the tournaments on telly, so Dudley naturally wants to be a boxer too when he's old enough. I don't think I want both of them competing for the same thing all the time, though. -P

That's probably wise, judging from what I've seen of sibling pairs here at Hogwarts. -S

Birthdays are coming up for both of them. I don't think we should invite you for Dudley's party, but there's really no one else for Harry. If Vernon agrees, I think it would be good for you to come to tea that day. -P

Severus found himself grinning like a maniac. Fortunate he was alone in his quarters. I would be delighted. -S

I don't want to impose, but since Dudley also thinks you are his uncle, would it be possible to send something for him as well? It wouldn't need to be anything big. He's getting plenty from us and Vernon's family. If not, I could probably pick out something we already purchased and label it as coming from you. -P

Severus pursed his lips, thinking about it. He did not really want the obligation of buying presents for a muggle child he was not particularly invested in, but then again, doing so wasn't really about Dudley, it was more of a favor to Petunia and Vernon. And he was almost out of debt again after a potion commission from the Malfoys back in March. It helped that he had few reasons to buy anything besides specialty potions ingredients, and those he could even include as part of the price of his commissions. That was the one business tactic of a potioneer old Horace Slughorn had taught most adamantly, along with currying the favor of the wealthy.

Well, Severus was interested in keeping within Petunia's good graces. I can do that. There's a very good candy store in the village here. I'll get him some chocolate. -S He did not feel like expending any more mental effort on the gift than necessary, and he already knew from Christmas Dudley liked chocolate. A regular bar of one of Honeydukes' plainer selections was affordable and would definitely suffice for a three-year-old.

Thank you, Severus. His birthday is June 23rd. -P

You're welcome. How do you want it delivered? -S

How did you send the journal? Chocolate should be small enough to send the same way. -P

Owl post. I can time it to arrive at night this time so no one will notice. -S

That's perfect. While I'm thinking about it, when is your birthday, Severus? I should add it to the calendar. -P

Severus' heart skipped a beat. She was only being polite, he knew, but the question still felt significant. January 9th. And yours and Vernon's? -S

September 3rd for me. September 11th for Vernon. -P

Thank you. Any thoughts on what would be good gifts for Harry? -S

Well, if nothing else, he could use some more of his own clothes. He's growing fast right now, and he's just not the same build as Dudley. -P

Send me his sizes in June, and I'll see what I can do. -S He would look for something more personal as well, even if just more Honeydukes candies, but he was acutely aware from his own childhood how it felt to wear only ill-fitting, old, and worn clothing. That was not something Harry needed.

Notes:

I had a lot of fun with the Hogwarts staff Christmas gifts, particularly Trelawney and Dumbledore (he does love knitting patterns after all). Almost all the staff are the same as in the books, but I'll list them here for reference since Severus thinks of them in first names:
Albus Dumbledore (headmaster etc)
Minerva McGonagall (deputy headmistress, transfigurations, head of Gryffindor)
Filius Flitwick (charms, head of Ravenclaw)
Pomona Sprout (herbology, head of Hufflepuff)
Petrus Parkinson (OC astronomy, head of Slytherin)
David Ashe (OC muggle studies)
Luna Ticklet (OC defense against the dark arts)
Nicolaus Bell (OC arithmancy)
Bathsheda Babbling (ancient runes)
Silvanus Kettleburn (care of magical creatures)
Sybill Trelawney (divination)
Argus Filch (caretaker)
Rubeus Hagrid (groundskeeper)
Irma Pince (librarian)
Poppy Pomphrey (nurse)
Rolanda Hooch (flying)

The four OCs replace Professor Sinistra and Professor Vector, fill the Muggle Studies position (Quirrel is too young; I checked), and of course the annual DADA slot. There has to be some turnover by the time Harry's ready to actually start school, right?

In the original version of this chapter posted to FF.net, I incorrectly had Severus writing on Mother's Day as well, not realizing it was celebrated earlier in the UK than it is in the US. I replaced it with May Day, aka Early May Bank Holiday but that would be super awkward for Severus to write lol. I try my best to get dates and Britishisms correct (I do for instance mean soccer by football, not American football), but I still goof up once in awhile.

Chapter 5: The Birthday Party

The last week of July was rather stressful for Petunia. Dudley hadn't made a single goal against Harry in their backyard football games, and his sulking turned into a mighty tantrum about it the afternoon before Harry's birthday. When Petunia sent him upstairs, he sneaked into Harry's room and scribbled all over Harry's prized red-and-yellow night stand with a black marker. Then Harry started loudly crying as soon as he discovered the vandalism, even though the marker washed off pretty easily. Then the two of them started squabbling again at tea, culminating in both of them throwing noodles and red sauce at each other. Vernon shouted at them, but while Dudley fled to Petunia's lap immediately, Harry just sat in his chair and cried. Petunia got absolutely nothing done that day that she had meant to do.

In an effort to avoid such drama on Harry's actual birthday, they kept the boys separated for much of the day. First Harry played football in the yard with Vernon, who mostly just defended his goal rather than running around, while Petunia wrapped presents and Dudley colored inside. Then Harry stayed in the kitchen with Petunia after lunch while Dudley went outside.

Petunia heard Severus knocking at the front door at precisely 4pm. Harry ran from the kitchen where he had been watching Petunia piping the last of the icing onto his small cake to answer it. "Uncle Sev!" she heard the delighted shout moments later. Severus appeared in the kitchen, his arms still full of parcels as Harry dragged him forwards by the bottom of his shirt, which was the only grabbable part of Severus he could reach. "Look a' my cake, Uncle Sev!"

Severus inspected the simple confection. It wasn't as elaborate as Petunia was capable of, but it was all she had had time for today. Severus nodded. "It's very nice, Harry. Petunia, where should I put these?"

"In the parlor with the rest."

Severus nodded and turned from the room, Harry trailing after him. "Are you having a good birthday, Harry?" he asked as they left. Petunia could not make out Harry's chattering answer, but she smiled that her nephew sounded happy enough now after all the stress of yesterday. When the two of them reappeared in the doorway, Severus was holding Harry on his hip. "I heard you're becoming a champion football player."

Harry nodded happily. "I beat Uncle Vernon!"

Severus' eyes crinkled, correctly assuming Vernon wasn't trying. "That's very impressive."

"An' we play adda park an' Duddey an' me won!"

"That's right!" Petunia said, smiling fondly at the memory. That had been a good week. "That was just after Dudley's birthday. We all went out to the park, and Harry and Dudley met some new friends around the same age. They got to play on the big kids' football field, and Harry scored the only goal of the game." Mostly, the kids had kicked around the ball in the middle of the field, making no headway towards the goals whatsoever, but when the ball happened to fly out of the group and several other boys tripped, Harry managed to pursue it all the way to the undefended goal before anyone caught him. The field still was much too large for them in truth, so they had stuck with the back yard for football since then. There were other fun things to do at the park.

Severus feigned an amazed gasp. It sounded strange, coming from him, as if he had never tried to show enthusiasm before. At the same time, it seemed Vernon sighted them through the window and came back in with Dudley. Dudley waived at Severus and then ran straight out the other end of the kitchen, hopefully to put his shoes on the rack. "Hello, Sev," Vernon rumbled. "Good of you to come."

"I wouldn't miss such an important party," Severus replied. Harry squealed and hugged his neck, almost cracking his face against Severus' large, hooked nose. Severus jerked his head back to avoid the collision.

Vernon chuckled. "Out for the summer holidays?"

"For another month," Severus confirmed. "It's just lesson planning, administrative work, and a little of my own research until school is back in session."

"You're a researcher, too?" Petunia asked, rather surprised. But then, she supposed wizarding education systems were so different from regular ones, he was probably teaching both primary school and university level classes of whatever-it-was. She had never actually asked his subject.

"In my spare time. I take... chemistry commissions as well. I can, er, synthesize certain specialized products in my laboratory that most in the community would find too challenging or too dangerous to do at home." Petunia suddenly recalled Lily's favorite subject had been potions, and that she had once mentioned Severus was quite good at them as well. That must be what he was talking about.

"You make dangerous substances inside a school?" Vernon asked incredulously.

"No, I am experienced enough to brew them correctly so they are not unduly dangerous. By the same token, I am trusted to supervise learners because I can recognize when errors are made early on in the process and either correct them or at least prevent anyone coming to serious or permanent harm."

"Ah."

Petunia finished setting the table while Vernon and Severus kept talking, with frequent tangential comments from Harry. Within minutes, everything was ready. "Tea time!" She sang. "Dudders, get in here! And here's the party hat for the birthday boy." She affixed the pointy paper hat atop Harry's flyaway hair, no easy task as he was now bouncing up and down in Severus' arms in excitement. The hat was leftover from Dudley's party the month prior, but Harry did not seem to care. As soon as Severus set him down, Harry rushed to the table and climbed into his chair, to which Petunia had attached several balloons earlier. Dudley finally ran into the room while the adults were taking their seats.

The meal was uneventful. Petunia had made a beef stew and Yorkshire puddings and served Harry first as the birthday boy, then Severus as the guest, then Dudley, then Vernon, then herself. Severus helpfully cut up Harry's food for him as Petunia worked on Dudley's.

"Excellent cooking, dear," Vernon said when he set down his fork. Severus nodded agreement. He had eaten every crumb on his own plate but did not take any seconds, Petunia had noticed. He was still odd and perhaps always would be.

Petunia smiled and started gathering up the plates. "Harry, do you want cake now, or presents first?"

"Presents!" Harry said instantly. The adults all chuckled and pushed back their chairs. The men and boys headed for the parlor while Petunia stacked the dinner plates in the kitchen next to the sink so they would be ready for washing up later. She heard a wail of despair, set the plates down with a clatter, and rushed to the other room immediately. Harry was crying again, and it was no mystery why. Two of the gifts Severus had brought for him had already been opened, and clearly not by Harry. One was just clothes, but the other had been a box of chocolates. The floor nearby was now littered with empty candy wrappers. Everyone turned to look at Dudley, who did not yet seem to realize he might be in trouble.

Out of the corner of her eye, Petunia noticed Severus grow suddenly very still. She looked up at him and saw he was completely changed, as she had never seen him before. As she had never seen anyone before. His face was twisted in anger and looked truly menacing. His posture was tense, like a cat's waiting to pounce. His right hand twitched near his hip, where she assumed his wand was hidden, as Lily's had been. She had been about to scold Dudley herself, but instead she found herself frozen in fear. When Severus spoke, his voice was soft and level, but it was anything but friendly. If he were speaking to any but a child, she was sure he would be preparing to attack. "Dudley, what you did was very, very wrong."

Dudley looked up at him, and his happy obliviousness vanished. His fearful expression matched what Petunia was feeling exactly.

Vernon's face turned from red to purple. He took Severus' arm and dragged him from the room.

Petunia exhaled in relief. She turned to her son and sighed. "Dudley, go stand in the corner."

"Buh-"

"No buts." She knelt down and gently hugged Harry who was still weeping into his balled fists. "There, there, Harry. It will be okay. Even if that one present is no good anymore, you still have others we can open. And there's still cake... shh..." She patted Harry's back, and he gradually stopped crying. When she looked up again, Vernon was back, watching from the entrance to the room. She raised her eyebrows in question. He shook his head.

"Severus had to leave," he said. "Come on, Harry lad. Let's open your other presents."

Vernon sat down on the couch while Petunia remained on the floor with Harry, quietly opening presents. He started by looking through all the new shirts Severus had gotten him, from the box which Dudley had already opened and dumped out.

"Mummy, can I come back over?" Dudley asked after a time in a small voice.

"You can apologize to Harry first and see what he says," Petunia told him, not looking up. For the first time since he was born, she was actually ashamed of her beloved little son's actions. It felt even worse that there was a witness, even if that witness was only Severus. She still knew her Diddy to be a sweet little boy at heart, if a little too boisterous at times, but what he had done was thoughtless and mean-spirited, even for a three-year-old.

"I'm sorry, Harry. Can I see wha' you got?"

Harry stayed still for a moment, then nodded. Dudley trotted over and sat down on the other side of the pile. Petunia was relieved when he handed the next package to Harry. This one was also from Severus, a set of pants and a set of shorts to go with the shirts. Then there was a box from Petunia with new shoes, and one from Vernon with a toy car. Another from both of them with a teddy bear. The last was from Dudley, one of his own picture books he had handed Petunia to wrap up this morning when he realized what she was doing and that nothing Harry was getting was from him.

"Thank-oo." Harry said at the end, not really looking at anyone and still sounding thoroughly miserable.

"Cake time!" Petunia said emphatically. She stood and scooped Harry up so he swung forwards a little before settling back against her chest. He giggled, finally. Petunia smiled. Dudley had gotten too big for her to do that so easily.

---

Severus lay on his back on his bed, moodily staring at the ceiling when he got back to Spinner's End. The muggle kid was a brat, but he, Severus, had been an idiot. He replayed the scene in his mind for the sixth time: he had been so angry when he saw Dudley had already nosed through Harry's presents and eaten the whole box of Honeydukes chocolates Severus had gotten him. He glared at the offending child. He did not shout; he never shouted. He told the boy what he did was wrong... He realized now he had terrified the whole muggle family with his demeanor. Merlin, he had used the same tone with three-year-old Dudley he had used with the murderer Drussus right before their duel to the death. And then when Vernon pulled him away, he had knuckled down in his own defense.

"Don't you ever speak that way to my son!" Vernon had shouted at him.

Severus had sneered. "Your son stole from a boy who has nothing."

Rather than wilting away, Vernon had stood up to him, leaning into his face as he spat, "Harry has a roof over his head and food in his belly because of me and my wife. Not you. We are his family. Not you. This is my house, not yours."

"And if you reinforce the kind of behavior Dudley just displayed, that boy will grow up to be just like the people who murdered Harry's parents," Severus had responded coldly. "Just like the people..." I betrayed, hunted, and killed. He didn't finish the sentence, but judging by Vernon's even more livid expression, he didn't have to. They both knew what he meant. Instead, he said, "I should know. I went to school with them."

"Get out," Vernon had said then. Royally disgusted with the lot of them, Severus had disapparated to the back garden at Spinner's End on the spot, right in front of the muggle.

He had come to regret his words as soon as he calmed down. He had probably destroyed any chance he had of being part of Harry's life, now.

The unmistakable rustle of the Protean journal rather startled him. He almost didn't look at it for fear of a well-deserved reprimand, then chided himself. He had survived the Dark Lord. He could handle the ire of Vernon Dursley, if that's what it was. As it happened, the writing was Petunia's.

Severus, I don't know what to do. Things had settled down, but Dudley wanted to watch cartoons while finishing his cake, and he dropped it all over some of the clothes you gave Harry. He didn't mean to do it, I'm sure, but Harry started screaming and crying again and he used magic! He made all the remaining cake and frosting fly into Dudley's face! Dudley's fine, and I've sent both boys to their rooms, but now Vernon's in a panic too... I just don't know what to do. We can't have him using magic against other people! -P

Severus groaned. Wasn't this a perfect end to the day? He wrote back immediately. Harry can't really control his magic right now, Petunia. Whatever happens will be a manifestation of the emotion he's feeling... but you're right, that kind of reaction needs to be curbed. I suggest you'll need to reprimand both boys, and make sure they both know about it. Dudley needs to know being inconsiderate and bullying of Harry is unacceptable, especially on what should be Harry's big day, both for Harry's sake and his own. Harry needs to know he can't lose his temper, but try not to make it about the magic. -S

How can we make it not about the bloody magic when it's about the bloody magic? -V

Severus sighed. Sorry for earlier, Vernon. I was out of line. And I don't know, really. I just know you can't punish him for using magic and risk making him afraid of himself when magic is something he literally cannot and should not try to change. -S

You're a bloody useless connection to the bloody useless wizard world! -V

Severus winced. He wasn't serving them very well at the moment, it was true. I'm sorry, I'm just not used to dealing with children quite this young-

-Bloody obvious!-

-They all have better verbal reasoning and social skills by the time they come to school. Anyway, I will try asking some of my own acquaintances whether they know of specific strategies for dealing with accidental magic at this age, without naming names of course, and get back to you. -S

You do that, and stay away from my house. -V

Vernon's gone downstairs. -P

Sorry again, Petunia. -S

It's not your fault. Well, mostly. You glaring at Dudley like he was vermin to be crushed under your heel was not appreciated. Severus winced again. Don't you ever do that again, or I will ban you from this house. Permanently. I'm not above getting in touch with Professor Dumbledore to do it magically, either. I know letters addressed to him get to him one way or another, and my Dudley means everything to me. But the problem at hand is Dudley and Harry. They've been getting harder to handle in general lately. It just came to a head for Harry today. -P

Severus frowned. How much are they fighting? -S

There's some kind of argument almost every day. It's not usually as bad as it has been yesterday and today. It's just up and down with them. One minute they're getting along and playing, and the next they're not. -P

If that's the case, I'd say improving their relationship is your number one priority when it comes to the accidental magical outbursts. Even if it's a pain, I or any other trained wizard can easily reverse anything Harry might accidentally do at this age, but the last thing we want is for a repeat of today where Dudley gets targeted even by something harmless. I can't fix emotions with magic, not even with memory charms. -S

There was a pause before Petunia wrote back. I do agree with Vernon that you need to stay away for awhile, for different reasons. Harry said this afternoon while we were waiting for you that you're his 'favorite uncle' now. He just... doesn't connect with Vernon. If accidental magic is tied to his emotions, I don't want anything around to rock the boat while we're figuring this out. You can't be a substitute for Vernon in his mind. -P

Severus sighed again. He didn't envy Petunia. Raising children quite this young seemed to be a delicate balancing act. I understand. You can and should still call on me if you need me, though. -S

I will even if Vernon won't. You can work on your temper while you wait. -P

Severus laughed softly at the rebuke. There was proving to be more of Lily in Petunia than he had ever before realized.

Notes:

Snape originally developed his powerful Evil Potions Master looks during the First Wizarding War, when they meant you are about to die... no wonder school children are terrified of him. Meanwhile, Dudley is... a three-year-old. He wasn't being deliberately malicious stealing Harry's present, just typical self-centered; he was being kind/mimicking his mother when giving Harry a second-hand picture book. Little kids are kind of sociopaths because they haven't learned enough about other people and morality and consequences and things. They can be screaming and fighting one minute and perfectly happy the next. The problem with book-Dudley of course is that his parents completely fail to train this kind of behavior out of him, so he stays an unempathetic monster way longer than he should.

Chapter 6: Eileen Snape née Prince

Severus found his mother, Eileen, down in the darkened kitchen, nibbling on cheese and bread while sorting her old gobstone collection. She had hundreds of gobstones, amassed before she married when she was still playing competitively, mostly won in tournaments or gifted from various members of her wealthy, pure-blood family. The same family disowned her for marrying a muggle and cut her out of any inheritance, but they couldn't take away what was already rightfully hers. She had long ago sold anything from her family of actual value, but not the gobstones. Ever since Severus' father's murder, he would see her sorting through them more often than not, a strange compulsion he found incredibly depressing.

Severus pulled out the chair opposite her and sat down. She pushed the plate of cheese and stale-looking bread towards him, but he shook his head. "I already ate." Petunia's Yorkshire pudding was much tastier and more satisfying anyway. She shrugged and pulled it back towards herself. Severus hesitated, trying to think how best to phrase his question. "Mother, I wondered if you had any thoughts on how to help families with young children dealing with, er, problematic accidental magic."

Eileen raised an eyebrow and looked up at him. "Something I should know?"

Severus smirked. "Nothing like that." He had never even had a serious girlfriend, being supremely unpopular in school, then a Death Eater/double agent, and now a schoolteacher with an almost non-existent social circle. "No, er, old Professor Parkinson ironically appears to be coming down with something disturbingly reminiscent of the muggle Parkinson disease." The astronomer had started complaining of a tremor and difficulty adjusting the fiddly dials on his telescopes midway through the year and had almost fallen down the steps in May. Last Severus had spoken to him, no one at St. Mungo's was yet sure if it was some kind of curse directed at him by someone with a personal vendetta, or if it was truly organic. It was rare for wizards to develop muggle illnesses, but not impossible with old age. "Anyway, he's likely to retire in the next few years if this continues, and as the only other staff member from Slytherin at the moment, I will then become head of house." He shrugged. "I will have to be more 'hands-on' with the younger students if that's the case, and be the point of contact with their families."

Eileen had watched him with a completely blank expression while he spoke, and now she looked back at her gobstones, appearing totally disinterested. "Your Slytherins will all be purebloods, so they'll have had enough informal schooling they won't be a problem by the time they come to you. If their parents are having problems with them, well, that's what grandparents are for."

"I wasn't a pureblood," Severus pointed out softly. He had not gotten his wand early, as it took his parents the full eleven years to save up enough to make the purchase. The only spells he sort of knew before arriving at Hogwarts were the ones he'd seen and heard his mother perform a thousand times, so household charms and light hexes mostly, not the standard curriculum. He only remembered meeting his wizarding grandparents once prior to starting at Hogwarts. "There have been more and more like me since the war decimated and broke apart so many of the old families. Even some of the purebloods are being raised in, shall we say, lesser households now that their parents are dead or imprisoned."

Eileen started sorting faster. When she looked up again, she looked crazed. "If you want to avoid accidental magic, be born a muggle or squib and have muggle children. Nothing else works," she hissed.

Severus blinked in surprise. "Mother... what are you saying?" When she didn't answer him, just kept up her frenzied gobstone sorting, he asked, "Was I such a problem as a child?"

She snorted. "You... you were the best wizard son I could have hoped for, I suppose. But a wizard isn't what Tobias and I wanted, not after what my family did to us." She glared at him. "Tobias might still be alive if it weren't for you."

It was Severus' turn to snort skeptically. "Or all three of us might be dead. Father was killed because he married you, not because he sired me," he said bluntly.

Without warning she launched herself across the table at him, grabbing fistfuls of his robes and hair. "Don't you dare speak of him that way! He was your father! He loved you and took care of us!" She yanked hard on his hair.

"Ow." Severus snarled at his mother, grabbed her fists and squeezed across her knuckles to force them open again. "He loved you, Mother, and I know you loved him. But he was a terrible father. And an abusive one," he snapped, and shoved her away. Perched as she was on the table covered with tiny spheres, she slipped and tumbled to the floor. Severus had lived in terror of his own father for so long, he was not sorry for the man's death, only for the violent way it happened. That he had not immediately discarded every reminder of Tobias Snape in this house was only a respect for Eileen. And she knew that. "I know you're still grieving, Mother, but seriously, what is wrong with you?"

She hugged her knees to her chest and started rocking in place, muttering to herself. Concerned, Severus leaned closer to make out the mantra, "I should have been a squib. I should have been a squib. I should have been a squib. I should have been a squib..." Now he was even more alarmed. Severus really did not see much of his mother outside the school holidays, and even since he had been home for the past month, they had mostly kept to themselves. He had not realized she was doing this poorly since his father's death.

The moment he touched her shoulder she lunged at him again. This time, though, he was half-expecting it. His wand was in his hand almost as soon as she moved. Impedimenta. Expelliarmus, he cast silently. She froze, but nothing else. He frowned. If she was so inclined to attack him this evening, why was she doing so with her fists? "Accio Mother's wand." Nothing happened. Severus' eyes widened. "Finite." He held her down with his free hand as she unfroze. She started struggling ineffectually against him. "Mother, where is your wand? Did someone steal it?"

She grinned widely. "It's gone. It's gone!" She giggled.

"What happened to it?" She just kept laughing. Truly disturbed, Severus directed his wand at her again. "Legilimens." She did not even try to resist him. Rather, she couldn't. Any occlumency she knew was beyond her mental capacity, judging from the undiluted chaos of her thoughts. Severus' blood ran cold at what he saw, but he steeled himself, resolved to find his answer. And there it was, a memory. Eileen sat at this very table with one of Tobias Snape's old fine-toothed hack saws, carefully destroying her own wand. She cut it into twelve pieces, then put them in a cast-iron skillet, dowsed them with cooking oil and burned them. She put the ashes in Tobias' urn on her bedside shelf. The memory was almost a year old. What by Merlin and the Founders had she been doing since then? Severus picked through her mind frantically and found no recent memories at all of her using magic. He pulled back out of her mind and asked the burning question, "Mother, are you... living as a muggle?"

She nodded happily. "It's wonderful," she breathed. "I feel purged and clean..."

Severus did not know what happened when adults tried to stop doing magic, because he had never heard of it before. But he was absolutely certain it couldn't be good. "I'm taking you to St. Mungo's," he said.

"No!" She scrambled away from him on all fours.

He sighed and waived his wand again. "Stupefy."

Notes:

Sorry for the downer chapter. I promise the majority of this story really is wholesome

Chapter 7: The Long End of Summer

Severus watched in stony silence as Healer Valerian examined his mother. She had started struggling again as soon as they roused her, until the healer hypnotized her. Hypnosis was a branch of mind magic of which Severus knew little, unfortunately, except that it was less intrusive than Legilimency and less versatile, but more therapeutic. Oddly, some of its effects were achievable by entirely non-magical means, which in his opinion made it all the more mysterious. He could not tell what was going on and must wait for the healer's verdict.

"How long has she been like this again?" Valerian finally asked.

Severus' lips twitched. "Which part? The memory I found of her destroying her wand was from last year, but she has not been the same since Death Eaters came to her home and killed her spouse in the final year of the war."

Valerian turned around in surprise. "Death Eaters came and left her alive?"

Severus shrugged. "I presume it was an honor killing by one of her estranged family members. Her maiden name was Prince, but her spouse was from a non-magical family." True enough, if misleading. Tobias Snape was a muggle, of course his family was too. He was also deliberately referring to his father ambiguously as his mother's spouse in case this supposedly confidential conversation ever made its way to one of the Death Eaters still at large who didn't actually know Severus' ancestry. "They must have remembered her fondly enough to spare her life, if not her marriage."

"Do you know what dark magic she might have been attacked with?"

Severus shook his head. "She wouldn't tell me, and I was unwilling to pry into it, then, since she was not obviously impaired." He met the healer's gaze. "I am a sufficiently skilled Legilimens to find out, if you think it needed and do not have the expertise in your staff to do so yourself."

Valerian shook his head instantly. "I wouldn't risk more Legilimency. Her mind is already too fragile. I know you said she did not try to resist your probe before, but this is something she is more likely to try to hide."

"What will happen to her?" Severus asked.

Valerian frowned. "I'm not sure, to be honest. We will work with her as best we can to resolve the mental trauma that led to this, but... this is not a typical case. Acute grief and shock from dark curses can affect spell-casting quite commonly, but my examination suggests she should be able to do magic. She has simply decided not to. If she were a child, she would be at high risk for developing an Obscurus, but as a trained adult, she in theory does have the ability to suppress her magic as long as she maintains adequate mental control. She could stay this way indefinitely."

"You and I have both seen her mind, Healer Valerian. I question how long her mental control will last."

Valerian nodded. "Your concern is valid. Unfortunately, I just don't have another case to compare hers to. I will confer with my colleagues to see if anyone else has heard of similar cases."

Severus nodded tiredly.

---

It was a good day for us today, fortunately. I think the boys must be tired of fighting. Anything new on your end, Severus? -P

The words were waiting for him when he returned to Spinner's End the day after checking his mother into the hospital. He had been up most of the night and had several more meetings with healers throughout the day. He was tired. And he had completely forgotten about the issue of Harry Potter's accidental magic in the face of his own woes.

Nothing specific yet. I will let you know immediately if I find something potentially helpful. -S

In the subsequent weeks, Petunia started writing to Severus more and more, sometimes daily. They were just routine updates with occasional amusing or cute anecdotes for the most part, as if these pages were an ordinary journal rather than one he had laboriously enchanted. He made a mental note to ask Filius exactly how malleable the Protean charm was. He would either have to add more pages soon, assuming that was possible, start erasing old conversations which he was loathe to do, or create a new set this Christmas. Even though he rarely had anything helpful in response to Petunia's notes, he appreciated the distraction. Spinner's End was downright unpleasant when he was the only occupant, with relics of both parents glaring at him accusatorily from all quarters. A few sentences about three-year-olds building a pillow fort was a much better thought to end his evenings with than anything else going on in Severus' life at the moment. September first and the return of the Hogwarts schoolyear could not come too soon so far as he was concerned.

August 10 - We went to the park today. The boys had a lot of fun swinging, and we joined another informal football game. No goals were scored this time, but it was such fun to watch. We got icecreams on the way back, but unfortunately they started arguing, I don't even know what about, and both cones ended up half-eaten on the pavement. -P

August 12 - Dudley had his three-year well-child and vaccination visit yesterday. The doctor was pleased, even if Dudley wasn't. We went out to the shops afterwards to help cheer him up. We got a very funny new book to read together called The Very Hungry Caterpillar. Today, both the boys wanted to try all kinds of new foods they heard about last night in the book. -P

August 17 - Harry helped me in the back garden today. It was both of them initially, but Dudley got bored and went to play with a toy peddle-car Aunt Marge gave him for his birthday. Harry stayed with me, holding the bowl for the cherry tomatoes I was harvesting. He tried to help with weeding too, but he has no idea which plants are which and started pulling out my latest crop of lettuce sprouts, so I had him hold a spare trowel for me instead. I'm glad I saved most of the crop; Vernon rarely eats greens, but he will when they're home-grown and put on a sandwich! I have to make the most of the growing season while I can. -P

August 22 - You know how in March you can have frost in the morning, a nice warm afternoon, and then a storm in the evening? That was our day, but with toddlers instead of the weather. They hated eachother at breakfast, something about who got which color bowl. I had to switch out Dudley's blue one for another red one! Then my friend Rachel came over from next door for a bit, and they were perfect angels. Rachel even invited us to the picnic and games at the park tomorrow for her daughter's birthday. Then the boys were right back to hating eachother in the evening, arguing over who would sit where while Vernon and I were watching a news program. I ended up stabilizing Harry as he perched on the edge of the couch with Dudley squashed between Vernon and me. I hope they're not like this at Rachel's party! Wish me luck. -P

August 23 - The picnic went wonderfully! Harry and Dudley were much younger than most of the other kids since Rachel's daughter is turning twelve, but there were another boy and girl close to their age, Piers and Robin, and the four had the swings and sand box all to themselves while the older kids were playing rounders. Rachel and her ex-husband even managed to be civil to eachother the entire afternoon, which I was not expecting after listening to Rachel gripe about him for so long yesterday. -P

August 27 - Harry used some more magic today. Nothing bad, thank goodness, but the boys have a coloring book with ocean creatures that he just loves. He was going through blue crayons like crazy, to the point I was sure he was going to run out. But then when I got back from hanging the wash on the line, he had about twenty blue crayons next to him! I'm not sure if they multiplied or he changed the color of other ones. -P

Either is possible, and both harmless -S It was either a gemini effect or simple transfiguration of the dye. Severus wondered idly if he would be able to determine Harry's aptitudes for Charms versus Transfigurations versus Divinations et cetera before the boy ever came to Hogwarts, simply by analyzing his accidental magic over the next few years. A pity potions affinity would remain in suspense; children never accidentally brewed potions as far as he knew.

I gave him a cookie when I noticed. -P

Most wizarding families do reward what they view as positive accidental magic. -S He had wracked his brains to remember that, struggling to recall his own childhood and what he had observed of parent-child interactions in the Malfoy household on his exactly two visits since Lucius's son was born. The Malfoys were odious, but Lucius and Narcissa clearly cared for their baby. Lucius had completely dropped his negotiations for a specialty potion brew when Narcissa appeared and announced Draco had summoned a toy to him from across the room. They had cooed over the infant for the next five minutes, and Severus ended up with an excellent commission.

I thought that could be our strategy, rewarding good magic and not the bad. Like Vernon's sister Marge does with her dogs. I'd still rather he not do such things when he eventually goes to school, though. -P

We've a few years to figure that out. If worse comes to worst, there's a whole Ministry department dedicated to reversing and covering up particularly egregious instances of accidental magic. -S

That isn't actually a comfort to me, Severus, to know 'egregious accidents' are a common enough problem to need a whole governmental division to manage. -P

...That perspective did not occur to me. It just seems normal when you live in this world. Sorry. -S

August 31 - School term starts tomorrow, doesn't it? Good luck, Professor! I'm afraid our day was rather dreadful. Vernon sat down with the boys to help them make cards for my birthday. As far as he could tell, they started arguing over whose was better. Harry tried to pick up Dudley's and accidentally ripped it when Dudley snatched it back, then Dudley tore up Harry's as well... it was a mess. They ended up pulling each other's hair under the table before Vernon and I managed to separate them. -P

And then it was September first, on a Thursday. Which meant September second was a flustered, frustrating, first-day-of-classes Friday that made Severus long for the solitude of Spinner's End again. That feeling was gone again on Saturday, fortunately, and Severus was almost cheerful as he initiated the conversation on September third - Happy birthday, Petunia. I meant to owl you some chocolates from Honeydukes last night, but I ended up giving out six detentions and staying up late decontaminating the classroom instead. I swear the Hufflepuff fifth year class forgot everything I taught them last year. I'll send your present tonight instead. I hope you had a good day, at least? -S

Thank you and my goodness! Yes and no. Vernon brought me a lovely floral arrangement and dinner from one of our favorite restaurants for the whole family. It was wonderful not to have to cook. The boys were a handful, though, following me around  all day  and constantly bickering about everything, from who got to hold which of my hands when we went to the park, to who got which slice of cake (which was a round and quite symmetrical one from the bakery. All the slices were the same!). They  did  succeed in making cards for me with Vernon yesterday evening, and those were both charming. Of course, they argued about who got to give me their card first, whose was better, and where I was allowed to put them on the refrigerator. -P

Severus snickered at the image of two young children arguing over identical slices of cake. He was observing a pattern though after a month of these little updates. It sounds like they're mostly concerned with who gets premium time with and praise from you. -S Just like the wannabe teachers' pets in Ravenclaw clawing over each other for House points.

...You know, I think you may be onto something, there. I'll mention it to Vernon. -P

Severus received the next update that weekend after a long and un-reassuring visit to St. Mungo's.

Those chocolates were delicious, Severus. I can see why poor Dudley was so tempted to steal Harry's. I shared mine with Vernon and gave one to each of the boys as well, so hopefully they will take my example for such things in the future. It's still been a slog of a week, unfortunately. We had another hair-pulling event yesterday, followed by rather a lot of screaming, mostly from Dudley when I sent them both to their rooms right during his favorite show time. Honestly, I'm at my wits end with these two. -P

Have you ever considered consulting a therapist? -S

Well, no. Tantrums are pretty normal at this age as far as I know, and even Vernon's parents said so when we mentioned it to them on the phone a few weeks ago. -P

Well, yes, I'm sure that's true. It was just a thought. -S

He would never have had that thought a month ago, but Severus had overheard another family in the spell-damage ward talking while he was visiting his mother. They were having a rather alarming problem with their young child, who had as yet displayed zero accidental magic after his parents were targeted in the war, even though he had seemed normal previously and the parents had reportedly witnessed some age-appropriate accidental magic before the tragedy. Severus did not know who they were, let alone why they were discussing the child's problem in an adult ward, or he might have spoken with them more directly rather than eavesdropping through the curtains. Regardless, one of the healers speaking with them had to be muggle-born. She had suggested the family consider seeing a muggle child psychologist since there was not, technically, anything magically wrong with the child, at least that could be diagnosed currently, and he was too young for the kinds of mental probing Healer Valerian was using on Severus' mother. Severus presumed the child's rather stern-sounding guardian must be pureblood, as she had immediately shut down the suggestion. He found it interesting though. He had not remembered enough about the muggle health system to know such thing as a child psychologist even existed; his father would have had low regard for mental healthcare, he was sure. It had also occurred to him he might be able to find books on the subject of raising and otherwise interacting with young children, and he always preferred dealing with books rather than people wherever possible. He and Petunia could start a little book club... he grinned at the silly thought, but resolved to visit Diagon Alley as soon as he had time nevertheless. If Flourish and Blotts failed him, he might even consider perusing a muggle book store. Muggles wrote books about everything.

September 11 - Happy birthday, Vernon. -S

Crappy  birthday. -V

? -S

There was another stupid squabble after tea. Dudley punched Harry in the face. Don't worry about Harry, he's fine, but Vernon tripped over the coffee table when we were trying to separate them and sprained his ankle. -P

Ah. Yes, I would classify that as crap, too. Possibly even shit. -S

Ha, ha, ha -V

He is actually laughing. -P

Consider humor an extra birthday gift. -S

Good, because I landed on the chocolates when I fell. -V

We might reconsider your idea about seeing a therapist. -P

Notes:

Had to give you some cuteness after all the sad.

Chapter 8: Professional Assistance

It took another month for Vernon and Petunia to agree upon seeing a family therapist, but it became harder to argue not to when Dudley punched Harry a second and then third time on consecutive bad days. They had slapped at each other and pulled hair before, but this time, Harry ended up with bruises when Dudley knocked him into the coffee table. It did not matter how quickly Petunia was able to end the fight once it started, both parents were still afraid of something much worse happening, particularly should Harry "accidentally" retaliate. Petunia just kept remembering Severus' dire words from his first visit: "the worst thing that could happen is not that the magic within him will turn dark and violent and end up injuring or even killing multiple other people around him before he dies." Yes, Severus was talking about something else, the Obscure-thing, but the implication was still there that accidental magic could be just as dangerous as a gun accidentally going off. Bad enough if Harry should hurt himself, but he could hurt Dudders too... and Dudley was too young to know better, no matter what Petunia or Vernon said to him. Vernon even went so far as to spank Dudley after the third punching episode, over Petunia's objections as she felt each blow in her own chest. Unfortunately, that had seemed to make both boys even more upset and irritable rather than deter bad behavior. They were scared into obedient silence for exactly as long as it took Vernon to leave for work. After Vernon left, Dudley threw a tantrum, and Harry hid himself in the closet under the stairs for several hours. Petunia was in a panic and about to summon Severus by the time she finally found him, by feel because he was invisible, and she reduced him to tears dragging him out of there and scolding him. When Vernon returned home, Petunia forbade him from striking either boy again. She then struggled through three days of constant tantrums from Dudley and frightening (though thankfully magicless) hide-and-go-seek episodes from Harry until things returned to something closer to normal.

Very contrite and equally at a loss, Vernon agreed something had to be done. Petunia mentioned the fights to Rachel, but she was not much help, having only the one daughter and herself being an only child. So they called Vernon's parents, who suggested they try spanking the boys again the next time one of them did something unacceptable. So they ignored that suggestion, asked the nurse at Dudley's pediatrician's office for referral numbers, and made an appointment with the only child psychologist in Surrey. They got lucky. The wait list was very, very long, but Petunia got a callback about a cancellation and was able to take the appointment spot just two weeks after they decided to seek professional help.

The initial appointment was scheduled for an hour in the middle of the day October 28th, which Vernon was fortunately able to take off even with such short notice since it was for family medical reasons. Harry and Dudley were directed to a child-sized table and chairs in the corner, which held some toys and coloring books, while Vernon and Petunia sat in the two wooden chairs facing the doctor going over the history. Petunia spoke the most, keeping her voice lowered and pleasant so as not to distract the boys.

"Dudley is ours, of course. Harry is my nephew, who came to us when he was, let's see, fifteen months old after his parents were both killed in a car crash."

"I see..." Doctor Jones made a note on her yellow pad. "Was he involved in the collision as well?"

"Er...yes. He has a scar from it. He wasn't badly hurt, though."

"And how was he when he came to you?"

Petunia shrugged helplessly. It was difficult to explain without mentioning the fearful secrecy they had also been keeping at the time. "I did not have much contact with him before, but he didn't seem like a happy baby like Dudley was. He cried a lot, and when he wasn't crying, he was quiet. He played a little, but he didn't babble like Dudley."

"Could he speak at all, yet?"

Petunia nodded. "Yes, he had I think the same number of words as Dudley, he just... was quiet. And he was walking and picking things up normally," she continued, remembering the questions the pediatrician would ask her about Dudley. "They both seem to be hitting the, um, what-do-you-call-ums... milestones now." There were no concerns when Dudley had his recent checkup and three-year vaccinations, certainly. Harry's was scheduled for next month, something they realized they hadn't done last year after getting the all-clear from Severus. Petunia had also realized after making the appointment, she did not know if he had gotten any of his vaccines yet, or even whether wizard children got them at all. She had been meaning to ask Severus about that. He was certainly off-schedule for vaccinations regardless after the year in hiding. It was just another problem to worry about, though fortunately not an urgent one.

"Alright, so he was probably developmentally appropriate. And what is the problem more recently...? Ah, fighting and tantrums," she read off the form Petunia had filled out in the waiting room. She nodded. "That's very common in this age group. Tell me about it."

Petunia launched into an explanation, with Vernon chiming in once in a while. It was still true that the boys were sometimes very good and sweet together, as they seemed now, playing in the corner of the doctor's office. If Harry had an idea of a new game to play, he always brought it to Dudley rather than to Petunia or Vernon, and the reverse was also true. They still usually loved playing football together, even though Dudley got increasingly frustrated if he failed to make any goals. But then there were the times where one of them had something the other wanted, and they simply would not agree to share. She talked all about what had happened on Harry's birthday, although instead of magic of course she said Harry had thrown the cake in Dudley's face. And then there was the recent escalation of tantrums into wrestling and fist fights. Petunia also had noticed ever since the incident where Harry collided with the coffee table, he had started running away when Dudley hit him instead of fighting back. She was not sure if that was an improvement or not. At least he was no longer hiding from her or Vernon. And, thinking silently to herself now, at least there had been no more aggressive magic, yet.

"This does sound like it's been difficult for you. If I may, which one usually hits first?"

"Dudley," Petunia admitted after a moment and an apologetic glance at Vernon. He shrugged. He knew it as well as she did. Just because they adored their son with all their hearts did not make them blind to reality. "It always starts with verbal arguing, though!" she hastened to add. Dudley wasn't deliberately mean she was sure; neither of them were.

"Okay..." The doctor launched into her own barrage of questions, asking for more details about the circumstances of both Harry's and Dudley's squalls, more information about their day-to-day routine, Vernon's work schedule, their extended family... she raised her eyebrows and set down her pen when Petunia mentioned her own mother had also passed away shortly after her sister, and father years before that. "How are you coping, Petunia?" she asked sympathetically.

"I... I'm doing well. Honestly, the first year was so hard, but then things were getting better, until recently with the boys." The doctor extended a box of tissues towards her. Petunia gratefully dabbed her eyes and blew her nose while Vernon rubbed her back.

When she was recovered slightly, the doctor leaned in and smiled gently at her. "It's okay to feel for and take care of yourself too, Petunia. You have all been through a lot of stressful things. Your children can sense when you are sad, even when you're trying to be cheerful, you know. Now, I'm not saying that their behavior is all your fault by any means, not that way, but you are such a big part of their lives, we have to consider how to keep you happy and healthy in order to help them." She looked at Vernon and amended herself, "And by that, I mean both of you." She leaned back and started making more notes. "Now, Harry and Dudley are both much too young to consider their challenging behaviors anything but that: challenging behaviors to manage. What you are describing is well within the spectrum of normal for this age group. We just have to come up with strategies to help you positively redirect negative behaviors when they happen, and help them develop more appropriate responses to their emotions. I'd like to watch them interact for a little while, and then we can talk about what to do."

---

I think my mother is dying. -S It had been another bad visit today. She had come down with pneumonia this week. Bacterial pneumonia. Witches didn't get run-of-the-mill bacterial infections as a rule, not unless it was from a contaminated wound (from a magical creature no less), or the unfortunate person had been cursed or was extremely old. None of which applied to his mother. Viral infections were another story, although never so severe as to withstand a single dose of Pepperup, with the exception of dragon pox and mumblemumps. And fungal infections were of course completely different and frequently magical... Well, Eileen's pneumonia would be easily cured, but with an inhaled anti-septic potion that, according to Valerian, hadn't actually been used at St. Mungo's in over a century. Severus had never brewed it before either, not even for curiosity, since it had so little utility. Other than the inexplicable mundane infection, her status had not really changed since admission to the hospital. She still refused to work any magic, and refused to see Ollivander or try one of the charity wands that were periodically donated to the hospital. She had successfully pulled out some of Severus' hair today, as well as coughed all over him and cursed him out royally with a bevy of extremely foul muggle swear words he had only ever before heard her scream at his father during their frequent fights, never at him. The healers explained she was in a bad mood after her gobstones were taken away earlier in the week. Apparently, she had attempted to shove some of them down one of the healer's throat while they were trying to get her to breathe in her antiseptic treatment. Eileen said she wanted to go home, and that he was a bad son for forcing her into the hospital. Even though he knew her behavior was neither normal nor healthy, he did wonder if she was right, since if anything she was getting sicker under the healers' watch.

Oh, Severus, I'm sorry to hear that. Is she very ill? -P

It was only when Petunia wrote back that Severus even realized what he had, rather foolishly, written. No one even knew his mother was in the hospital besides himself and the healers, not even Albus. He had intended to broach an entirely different topic with Petunia this evening. Well, nothing for it now. He would try to redirect the conversation quickly. Yes. -S

It's so hard to lose a parent. I know Lily would have told you when our father died. And Mother is gone as well, just after Lily. -S

I know... I found her body. -S

Your mother's?! -P

No. Your mother's. I was the one who found her initially. -S

Oh. -P

Merlin's beard, why had he told Petunia that? He was not thinking at all tonight.

Did she suffer? -P

Severus dropped his head onto the desk with a thud. Probably. Pyrites most likely tortured her for information before giving up and killing her. Or maybe he hadn't, assuming idiotically the muggle woman was beneath his notice, a mere temporary obstacle between him and his prize, until he realized there was no infant Harry in that house. Severus had no way of knowing. She had died by the Killing Curse, which left no physical traces, and any other magical evidence was obscured by his own duel with Pyrites by the time he and Alastor were able to investigate. So he merely wrote what was kindest for Petunia to hear. There were no signs of it. -S

Thank God... I'm almost afraid to ask, but do you know who did it? -P

He's dead. -S

Oh.  Good.  -P

Severus stared at the page, where she had punctured it with her forceful underlining and full stop. Somehow, he had never expected Petunia to express such anger, she was always so obsessively proper and rule-abiding.

Sorry, I'm sure that sounds terrible. So, what is wrong with your mother? -P

It's a magical malady. I don't know why I brought it up. Let us speak of something else. Did the therapist have any insights at the appointment? -S

Yes, actually. They agree it sounds like the boys are competing with each other for affection and attention, particularly for mine,  since I'm home all day and Harry knows I'm the blood link to his parents. They had two suggestions, first that we look into preschool options so I get a break and they have to learn to get along with even more children, and second that they get to know more friendly adults. To spread their attentions around, I suppose. Also some general tips on managing tantrums, but most of those were in that book you found. She almost gave us a Xerox of that chapter on tantrums before I told her I had the book already. -P

Good to know we found the best resource. The preschool idea does make sense to me. There are still  plenty  of fights and rivalries at school, I assure you and as I'm sure you yourself recall, but it's not usually among close family from what I've observed teaching. The odds are good they will 'join forces' when surrounded by peers, particularly if you encourage them to do so. -S

That's what the therapist said, essentially. You must be doing something right as a teacher, Severus! What do you think of her other suggestion? -P

Outside my realm of expertise. You may recall my family was only nuclear and that the other adults in our neighborhood generally disapproved of me. You are currently my only friend with children this age. -S Former Death Eaters and their children didn't count.

Oh, yes. Sorry? -P

You have nothing for which to apologize. -S

Oh, good. Well, I still have to discuss this more with Vernon, but we  might  want to invite you over again. No promises. -P

If you do, I will be good this time. Pinkie promise. -S

Pinkie...  Seriously? -P

Cross my heart. Or even double-cross. -S

...I really hate it when you say weird things like that. They're not funny. -P

Apologies. -S

Oh, I did have one more question, Severus, that I almost forgot about. What do wizards do about childhood vaccinations and things like that? -P

Finally, a question he actually knew the answer to. Pureblood families never bother because the child's magic tends to provide superior innate immunity to most ordinary communicable illnesses, and because the traditionalists disdain muggle medicine anyways. That said, vaccines are not harmful to magical youth. No one knows if they might actually help. -S

Thank you. He'll probably need a vaccination record to go to preschool. -P

I am 100% positive he never had any before coming to you. His father was a pureblood, and they went into hiding very soon after his birth. -S

That answers my other question. Thanks again. -P

Several hours later, Severus glanced back at the journal and had to laugh. I disagree with my wife. That was kind of funny, coming from you. -V

His laugh faded when he read the next line. Sorry to hear about your mother, Sev. I hope she gets better. -V

Notes:

Severus attempting friendly banter is mostly just weird, to anyone except Lily Evans.

I tried to think of the most frightening bit of not-acutely-dangerous accidental magic Harry might do at this age, and turning invisible so mother figure couldn't find him for hours at a time was top of the list.

Obviously Dursley's seeking therapy is out of character from what we've come to expect in the books, not to mention out of character for 1980s middle class family in general, but the Dursleys are plain inexperienced parents. Obviously Severus is no better, in fact even worse for general parenting problems. They need help, and fanfiction is at its heart wish-fulfillment! There was never going to be a chance to divert from the book's young!Dudley-Vernon-Petunia already unhealthy dynamic without a significant shake-up. My justification is that in this story, the Dursleys are actually far more wary of what Harry might do with accidental magic than they were in the books, because they know slightly more about it from Severus. They know enough to fear Harry could do scary things (a la young Tom Riddle) if they don't manage him correctly (their imagination is probably more dramatic than reality, of course). Really, book Dursleys were very lucky that Harry developed such a loving nature despite them that his accidental magic remained fairly benign.

FYI, I've decided the book Severus ends up with is Your Baby and Child: From Birth to Age Five/em> by Penelope Leach, because it was written in 1977.

Chapter 9: Dinner with Aunt Marge

Severus did not want to have to work late yet again on the Friday evening of his dinner at the Dursleys', so he made an effort to put on a very bad mood for the week leading up to it. It wasn't hard, since the prior weekend included both the anniversary of Lily's death and a horrible visit to St. Mungo's. As a result, all the students were on such nervously good behavior on Friday, he barely needed to dock any points at all and gave out zero detentions. As soon as he finished the terminal clean of his dungeon classroom for the week and took a quick shower to wash off any lingering fumes, he headed out to the grounds and thence to Hogsmeade.

He arrived at roughly the same time as a taxi pulled up to Number 4 Privet Drive, presumably containing Vernon's sister. He paused in the shadows near the stop sign at the entrance to Privet Drive to observe his female muggle counterpart. Inviting both Severus and Marge had been Petunia's idea, in order to more easily divide adult attention between the two boys. Marge was Dudley's favorite (and only) aunt, so Harry should be unopposed in having Severus for his favorite uncle, tonight at least. Or rather, Harry would have Joseph's undivided attention, he reminded himself of the agreed-upon alias. He watched a rotund woman climb out of the taxi and march up the sidewalk. She had a dog with her, he noted.

Severus was not thrilled by the idea of socializing with additional Dursleys but agreed for Lily's sake. He was even less thrilled with socializing with this Dursley's dog. He had come to detest dogs of all breeds at some point. He was not afraid of them, of course, but they smelled, drooled, got underfoot, and were uniformly either obnoxiously affectionate or overly prone to growling and biting. He supposed he would have to be polite to the animal as well. Petunia had mentioned at some point that Marge loved and indeed bred them. He took a deep breath and strode back into the light.

The door was still ajar when he reached it. It appeared all the Dursleys remained distracted with Marge's arrival. Marge, Vernon, and Petunia were all talking loudly from the entrance to the parlor, where he could just see Petunia in the doorframe with her back turned towards him. Dudley was already playing with the dog in the hall, a brown, tubby, short-legged but large-headed type Severus recalled seeing before but couldn't name. Harry, meanwhile, was staring down the hall towards the door when he pushed it open again. The child's face lit up in delight, and he ran towards Severus and hugged his knees, just as he had done last Christmas and in July. At least this time, Severus wasn't carrying anything. He lifted the child up; he was noticeably heavier, Severus thought with vague satisfaction. "How are you, Harry?" he asked.

"Good."

Severus grinned at him. "Good." Harry grinned back. Severus glowed. That muggle book was on to something when it said smiling at children this age was a way to communicate love and approval, and more practically that they would almost certainly smile back. He suddenly wondered if it worked on eleven-year-olds. He rarely smiled at his students, but he resolved to test it sometime, perhaps in September with the fresh batch.

"Mummy! It's Uncle Sev!" Dudley announced.

Petunia twisted a little to look at him. She was already smiling. "Ah, there you are, Sev! Come in!"

Severus stepped over the threshold and closed the door behind him. Dudley trotted up, and Severus ruffled his hair with one hand. He had noticed the gesture recently when he was at the hospital, from a harried-looking couple in the lobby with rather too many red-haired children to easily manage between them. Petunia beckoned him to the parlor and turned to introduce him. "Marge, I'd like you to meet my brother, Joseph."

Up close, Marge was almost as large as Vernon, with similar facial features if much less facial hair. She did have some that she had attempted to shave, not recently enough. Her handshake was almost identical to her brother's as well: pudgy but deceptively strong. "Pleasure to meet you, Joseph. I never thought I'd see another one of Petunia's relatives besides Harry after her mum died. The whole family seemed dispersed and horribly reclusive." Well, that was... blunt. "And I said to her, 'Petunia, it's going to be alright, because you're a Dursley now, and Dursleys are a strong family.'" Severus blinked, uncertain if that was supposed to have been reassurance or a command in the wake of Petunia's mother's death.

But he smiled easily, as he did whenever meeting superficially unpleasant new people he wanted to like him. "A pleasure to meet you as well, Marge. I'm sorry we never connected before, but I was rather out of touch with Petunia for a few years until we lost Lily and Iris."

"What a voice you've got there. You could shiver the floorboards if you raised it, I'll warrant. Is it trained?"

For what, singing? "No."

"Just naturally endowed then, lucky sod. Petunia, how is it you managed to lose track of your own brother?"

"He's my half-brother," Petunia explained quickly. "From Dad's first marriage. He lived with his mum growing up, not with us."

Marge nodded affably. "Oo, older brother then, gotcha. Well, pups always go with the bitch." It was only his years of rubbing shoulders with Death Eaters and working as a double-agent that kept Severus' reaction to that particular comment from showing on his face. "Are you a dog person, Joseph?" Marge asked.

"Not really, no. We never had one when I was young."

She smiled widely and winked forcefully at him. "Well, we can always find out." He suddenly decided not to suggest she call him 'Sev.'

Vernon cleared his throat. "Why don't we sit? Get out of the hallway at least so Petunia can finish what she needs to in the kitchen."

"That would be perfect. The roast should be just about ready," Petunia said quickly. "Keep the boys with you, please, Vernon." She bustled off as the rest of them shuffled into the parlor. Dudley tugged the dog into the middle of the room and then buried his face in its neck, patting it roughly. The dog liked this more than Severus expected, waggling its posterior excitedly.

"Do you want to go play with the doggie, Harry?" he asked as he took a seat on an armchair. Harry shook his head and burrowed into Severus' jumper. It was the wool one Albus had given him for Christmas; the November night was chilly. "You sure?"

Marge cackled. "Oh, poor Harry got a bad first introduction to Joey-kins at Duddies' birthday bash. Got chased all around the yard! Little Joey was just playing, Harry."

"He's also been more sleepy and snuggly than usual, ever since going to the pediatrician on Wednesday and getting his shots. He even wanted to climb onto my lap while I was watching the match yesterday, and he never does that. Petunia was busy in the kitchen at the time. Probably had a little fever," Vernon said with a chuckle

Severus traced an arc with his thumb along the back of Harry's head and changed the subject. "Seems you're staying the weekend, Marge?" He had noticed her luggage in the hall.

"Oh, yes. Always do when I visit. That train's too long! You?"

Severus shook his head. "Too many papers to grade."

"Ooh, you're a teacher? What subject?"

"Chemistry."

"Excellent. You've picked the right career there, Joseph. You know, it's the science and maths that's important. That's where all the jobs are! Why do they even still teach grammar and history and languages and the other namby-pamby subjects beyond the primary school level? That's what I want to know. I mean, the world runs on English, right? And if you learn to write too complicated, that's just making it harder for the foreigners!"

Severus quickly decided Marge was appalling. She reminded him most strongly of Gaius Goyle, a Death Eater who had only escaped imprisonment in Azkaban because he had always been first and foremost a stooge of Lucius Malfoy. At least that meant Severus already had a template he knew how to interact with favorably. So he did not argue the benefits of cultural sophistication but instead kept his face neutral as he said, "Well, so many find the hard sciences so challenging."

"Oh? How are your students getting on this year?"

"The first half of the year is always a disaster. That's why I need the whole weekend to wade through the assigned homework. Ask me again in a few months."

Marge and Vernon both laughed. "Hard to find a reason not to fail some of 'em, eh?"

"Exactly."

"Well, some's just not cut out for school at all." Severus did not point out that thought directly contradicted her opinion that only science and maths should be taught. What exactly did she think her hypothetical uneducated masses should do with their lives once they failed at chemistry or physics or whatever else Marge deemed suitable? Particularly given the vast scale of modern muggle society.

"Dinner!" Petunia called, summoning them all to the dining room. Severus set Harry down to walk over himself, judging Marge would probably be unimpressed with any signs of "immaturity." The last thing he needed was for her to start blithely criticizing the boy over nothing.

Unfortunately, the dog followed them to the dining room.

"Beautiful spread, Petunia," Marge said instantly. Well, the woman had no filter and said whatever came to her mind immediately, but at least pleasant things could also fall out of her mouth.

They were seated in such a way around the oval table that the children sat to either side of Petunia, with Marge next to Dudley and Severus next to Harry. Marge immediately served up two slices of roast and a large spoonful of boiled maize onto Dudley's plate and took up his knife and fork. "I've got this one, Petunia. Can't make a bachelor uncle help with kiddos this young!" Severus did not recall mentioning his marital status. Marge's voice changed completely and quite dramatically when she started speaking to Dudley. "Now my little Diddy, Margie's faaaavorite nephew, let's get some foodie-food in that tummy-tum! Such a darling, growing boy..." Well, that explained why Marge was Dudley's favorite aunt, he supposed. She fawned on him even more than his doting parents did. Severus was both impressed and mildly repulsed, mostly by her sticky-sweet tone. If Harry was hoping for Severus to behave like that, he would be forever disappointed.

Petunia smiled at the display, though, and turned to cater to Harry. Harry appeared thrilled with this turn of events.

The conversation lulled when Marge tucked in to her own meal, fortunately. Severus took the time to talk a little to Harry, although Marge still loudly punctuated the stilted conversation, even with her mouth full. From the child's perspective, the week had been trying. The worst of it, as Vernon had already mentioned, Harry had a visit to a doctor and got several vaccines.

("I know they're ouchie, boy, but they'll help you grow up strong! Like your Uncle Vernon, and Dudley!")

Secondarily, with the recent colder weather and heavy rains, Petunia had packed up the backyard football set for the year. ("Summer will be here again before you know it, kiddo. Football, though. Good sport! Never really cared much for it myself, but it's so popular, it's a good one for little kids to know and get good at. Gives 'em a leg up when they're school-age. Right, Joseph? They can't all be champion boxers like Vernon!")

On the other hand, he and Dudley had done lots of coloring while stuck inside, and Harry might like to show some of his artwork to Severus after the meal. Severus agreed to look at it.

When Marge finally set down her knife and fork, she turned towards Petunia, Harry, and Severus with an air of purpose, completely overlooking Dudley, who did not appear pleased to lose her attention so thoroughly. "Tell me more about Harry's folks. I never really heard much about them before. Well, I'm not here that often, and there's always so much to do and catch up on. Really, I suppose I've only met him, what, four times, Vernon? Christmases and Dudley's birthdays. And he was such a wee tyke the first two times, so shy and sleepy." She grinned at Harry in a way Severus was sure was supposed to be kind.

Severus answered. He had suspected the question might come up and had thought about it during one of the seventh-year classes, how to describe both Lilly and Potter in muggle-friendly terms. "James was studying to be a police officer." He wasn't, but he had joined the Order of the Phoenix, and Severus had heard the rumor at school that what he ultimately wanted to do was join the aurors, which was close enough. "They married just a year out of school. Lily was a stay-at-home-mum, given they got pregnant so soon after marriage. I believe she also had thoughts of becoming a chemist but put it off."

"My dad does drills," Dudley supplied irrelevantly.

"Hush, dear, I know that. Your Dad's my brother, silly." Severus was surprised again. He hadn't expected her to speak down to Dudley at all, given what he had seen so far. Marge nodded thoughtfully. "Policeman and a chemist. Not bad jobs, for in-laws. Such a pity about the car crash."

Harry tugged on Severus sleeve. "You knew my Dad?"

Severus had to fight to suppress an eye-roll to that. But of course, Harry would want to ask him about Potter... James. He would have to get in the habit of using the name eventually. Merlin, this was going to be difficult. He forced a pleasant smile at Harry and tweaked his nose. "Of course I did. I'm your uncle, aren't I?"

"Buh Auntie Petunia..."

Oh, dear. He gathered Petunia had only met the man a handful of times, and hated him on principle, just as Severus did. And now Severus had made the mistake of admitting he did, actually, know James. He was now become the repository of all James-related information in Harry's mind. Delightful. Well, he couldn't really back down, now, with everyone watching him expectantly. Except Dudley. Dudley didn't care and looked rather bored. Why couldn't the rest of them be like Dudley? "Oh, I see. Well, I actually went to the same school as your father for awhile. I suppose I got to know him rather better than your auntie."

"Was it you who introduced them, Joseph?" Marge asked.

"Ah... indirectly, I suppose." He had introduced Lily to the wizarding world. That counted. "But I wouldn't say we were close school friends or anything like that." Petunia took a sip of wine. She must be laughing inside, knowing how much he had disliked James. He glanced down at Harry, who looked crestfallen. He smiled at him again and surreptitiously took his hand under the table. "Sorry, kiddo." Internally, he frowned. Kiddo was not a word he had ever said himself before, and it sounded wrong. Why was it so different from how Marge said it?

Marge inhaled loudly and leaned back in her chair. "Petunia dear, what's for pudding?"

The rest of the evening was just as exhausting, with Marge's comments growing more and more off-color and personal as she downed each portion of brandy. He hoped for the sake of her liver the woman did not drink so extensively on a routine basis. Fortunately, there was a breath at the very end when Marge took her dog out in the back yard to wee, and took Dudley with her. "Thanks for coming, Severus," Petunia said. "I know Marge is a lot when you first meet her, but I really think that went well, so far as the boys are concerned. That was the smoothest evening we've had with them in a good while."

"Thanks for inviting me."

"I will say it's creepy how easily you lie to her about everything, though." Severus felt himself flush. He rarely thought about what his skill with deceit would look like from an objective observer, but he imagined it could be rather disturbing. "I assume what you said about Lily and James' occupations was reasonably accurate? Lily never said." Petunia asked, saving him from having to respond to her previous comment.

"As far as I knew from when we were still in school."

"That's really good to know. Harry's started asking questions about them from time to time. How's your mum?"

Severus looked away. "Same. Still in hospital."

"I'm sorry. What-"

"I really don't want to talk about it. But thanks for asking."

Vernon cleared his throat, and Severus noticed his face was rather redder than usual. "Er, yes, thank you for coming. Er, you handled yourself well in there, better than I thought you would." Severus raised his eyebrows, and Vernon turned even redder. "She was flirting with you," he muttered.

"I did notice."

"Er, I do think it's probably good for the boys for you to keep visiting off and on, Sev, but..."

"Leave your sister alone?"

"...Yes."

"I'll keep that in mind."

Severus gave Harry one last hug before he left. He looked into the child's face, silently promising again to Lily's eyes to do the right thing. For the first time, he made himself see James's face as well, and promise the same.

Notes:

I didn't know I wanted to write a scene with Marge and Severus until I was writing it. Marge reminds me of a certain kind of politician: repulsive to (and repulsed by) outsiders but does genuinely care about the people closest to her. She's not an abject Harry hater in this story (at least not at this point) because no one has told her anything she disapproves of about him. She could easily still become a Harry hater because hatefulness is just in her nature, something Severus is very good at recognizing, naturally. Couldn't resist giving Marge some low-key but still off-putting attempts at flirting with Severus, too lol.

Chapter 10: Bottom of Ogden's Old

Severus was surprised to find a letter on the kitchen table when he reappeared at Spinner's End. He did not live here while school was in session, after all. He blanched when he saw where it was from. Something dire must have happened at the hospital for them to send duplicate letters to wherever he might be found. He was sure an identical one would be waiting for him at Hogwarts as well, and that they had already failed to reach him by floo. All the Hogwarts staff knew he was out for the evening, but not where.

Dear Messr. Severus Snape,

There has been a development in Eileen Snape's case. Healer Valerian requests your presence at St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries at your earliest convenience in order to discuss. Healer Valerian will be available at all hours day and night until we hear from you...

Severus did not read the rest of the letter but rather dropped it back on the table and disapparated straight to the hospital lobby. He strode up to the witch at the desk and said, "Severus Snape. I received a message to meet with Healer Valerian as soon as possible."

She raised her eyebrows skeptically. "You're Professor Snape?" It was only then that Severus realized he was still wearing muggle clothing. And that the witch probably had a younger relative currently attending Hogwarts.

He leaned forwards and gave her his best, most menacing glare. "Yes. I was led to believe the matter was urgent."

Her cool professionalism shattered. "Right. Of course, Professor. Er... let's see... Top floor. Othala Conference room. I'll have the healer meet you there."

Severus nodded and spun on his heal. He transfigured his muggle jacket and trousers back into robes whilst in the elevator. He placed a cool hand at the side of his neck where the jacket collar had been. Maybe eventually he would invest in some genuine muggle clothing, not just the transfigured stuff, which tended to itch for some reason. Transfigurations had always been amongst his least favorite subjects, through no fault of Minerva's, of course.

He waited only a few minutes for Healer Valerian, and several others who he had not previously met, to join him in the conference room. They looked a little ruffled, with windswept hair and some minor rips and stains on their robes, very uncharacteristic of professional healers. "What has happened?" Severus asked without preamble.

"What we rather feared," Healer Valerian answered. "She got very agitated a little after we administered the most recent dose of the Essence of Euphoria that we had started this week. She suffered an uncontrolled outburst of accidental magic. Two other patients and three staff members were injured, and she has been moved to a private, high-security room." Severus listened numbly as the healers explained in more detail that the magical outburst was truly unformed, bearing no resemblance to any identifiable, intentional enchantment or to any of the known side effects of the Essence of Euphoria. This was less akin to usual accidental magic and more to what was recorded regarding Obscurials. They offered to show him exactly what had happened with a Pensieve, but Severus decided he did not really want to see it. In terms of treatment plans, they had administered the antidote to the Essence of Euphoria already and would not try that particular mood potion again. Representatives from the Department of Mysteries had already been notified. The healers were also considering contacting the retired magizoologist Newt Scamander or possibly Albus Dumbledore, as each was known to have interacted directly with the last documented European Obscurial, back at the onset of Grindelwald's War. "We prefer not to contact Dumbledore without your permission, though, since he is your employer," Healer Valerian concluded.

Severus smiled mirthlessly. "That is the least of my concerns."

Valerian nodded. "We'll wait for the Department of Mysteries assessment first, and go from there."

Severus agreed. "May I see her?"

All the healers winced. "Well, you can, but be careful and use a Protego maxima."

The healers' concern for his safety proved unwarranted. When Severus entered his mother's new, highly warded room at the very end of the long-term care ward, she stood up immediately, grabbed his hands and squeezed them, tears running down her face, but showed no signs of aggression this time. "I have to go home, honey. Please let me go home!"

"It's not safe for you to be at home, Mother," he said softly.

"It is! I was making it work! It's just too stressful here! But I can stop it again. I know it."

Severus shook his head. "What happened today was always going to happen eventually, no matter where you were, and regardless of the potion you took today. It is better that you are here, where people can help you and keep you safe." And contain the damage. Who knew how many of her muggle neighbors might be injured or dead if she had been at Spinner's End? He smiled tightly. "We have to make you better again, and then go home."

She cried some more and leaned against his chest. He held her silently. He couldn't say what he was thinking, that she probably wasn't going to get better. The weight of history was against her.

---

On Saturday morning, Severus nursed a bottle of firewhiskey from Madam Rosmerta's recently reopened tavern in Hogsmeade. He had visited the establishment for the first time around midnight upon his return from the hospital. The brew was excellent.

He was thoroughly drunk by the time Minerva McGonagall barged into his quarters that afternoon. She may have knocked, but that did not register through his inebriation. He had to close one eye to squint up at her because of the double vision, but he managed to focus in time to see her initially angry expression shift to one of concern. "Severus, are you unwell? You weren't at dinner, breakfast, the morning staff meeting, or lunch." He gestured vaguely towards the firewhiskey. She raised her eyebrows. "You're drinking? That's not like you! What's wrong?"

Severus shrugged. "Shientific pogress, Minerva. I met the firs' ever adull Obshcuri- Obschuriral yezzerday."

Minerva's mouth fell open, and she caught herself on the arm of his chair in surprise. "What?"

"M' mother," he mumbled. He was beyond caring who knew about his troubled family life at the moment. His eyes drifted closed, but Minerva shook him forcefully awake again.

"Severus, focus. Are you hurt?"

"Nooo..."

"You said you met an Obscurial?" He nodded. "Where?"

"S' Mungo."

"...Ah. Who?"

"M' mother," he repeated. Wasn't she listening?

Minerva sighed. "Ugh, splinched ears, why couldn't we have this conversation before you got sloshed? Expecto Patronum!" Severus watched Minerva's bright silver cat appear and then gambol away. "Albus, we might have a situation, could you meet me down in Severus' quarters?" she said a little later once the patronus found its target. In the meantime, Minerva thoughtfully conjured him a large glass of water and stood over him as he reluctantly drank it.

The headmaster joined them a few minutes later and frowned at him.

"He's drunk," Minerva supplied before Albus could ask. "As to why, he says he met an Obscurial at St. Mungo's. Yesterday!"

Even Albus looked shocked at that. He shook his head slowly. "That's impossible. I've long had contacts in the Department of Underage Magic to get advanced warning on those kinds of cases, and even formal agreements ever since I became Headmaster and had the position to intervene."

Severus snickered. "Underage..."

"Severus, who did you see at St. Mungo's?" Albus asked kindly.

"M' mother."

"Your mother is in the hospital?" Severus nodded. "Since when?"

"Shummer."

"Summer? Merlin's beard! What happened?" Minerva asked. "Why didn't you say anything?"

"She's dying. She shtopped uzhing magic, an' now... she's dying."

Albus lunged forwards and dragged Severus' chin up to meet his gaze. His long grey beard fell against Severus' chest, like a fluffy blanket. Or a pillow? A cloud? Anyway, Severus could tell Albus was trying to use Legilimency, and he did not bother to resist with anything beyond his usual subconscious defenses. He just recalled the meeting with Valerian so the old schoolteacher could find what he was looking for. It was easier. Albus blinked, and it looked like he might start crying behind his half-moon spectacles. "Severus... I'm so sorry. Is it alright with you if I visit her and speak to the healers myself?" Severus nodded again vaguely. Albus straightened up. "Minerva, there is no child at risk, fortunately. Would you stay with him until he's sobered up somewhat? I need to go to St. Mungo's. Feel free to cancel his Monday classes if you think it necessary."

Severus closed his eyes again. "Squeaky?" Minerva said. Crack. The sound of the house-elf apparating into his room jarred him back to wakefulness. He noted Albus had gone. "Could you bring Severus a salty broth, please? And while I'm thinking of it, make sure there's some comfort food options nearby when he deigns join us all in the Great Hall again."

"Yes, P'fessor!" the elf squealed, and vanished again.

She corked the firewhiskey and moved it to the shelf over the desk, then dragged his desk chair over and sat down. She sighed. "Honestly, Severus, you're supposed to let me know about things that might affect your ability to work."

"I can work," he objected loudly.

"Really. You weren't drinking earlier in the week, were you?"

Severus glared at her, highly offended. "Nooo..."

"So your students really earned all twenty of those detentions, did they?"

"Yes."

"Including the one for Ms. Portchester?"

Severus struggled for a moment, trying to remember who that even was. He finally recalled her, a Gryffindor third year. He didn't remember giving her detention, though.

"...Yesh?"

"For having a set of gobstones on her desk?"

Severus hunched into himself. Annoyingly, he felt tears forming at the mere mention of the word gobstones. He lifted a hand over his eyes to disguise them; hopefully Minerva would just think he had a headache. "Dishtraction," he muttered. "Dangerous in potions."

"Ms. Portchester tells me she had only taken them out temporarily while searching in her bag for a fresh quill." Severus shrugged. He had no idea if the student was lying, and Minerva was right, she probably did not deserve detention for such a minor slight, in the normal course of events. The deputy headmistress sighed again. "You're our youngest staff member, Severus, and I know this is your first real job as well, so I won't press you further about it right now. Particularly since you'll probably be forgetting this entire conversation. But in future, I need you to let me know if you are unwell or you have other extenuating circumstances. You are allowed to request time off periodically, remember." He flinched when she patted his hand. He flinched again when the house elf returned with another resounding crack. "Alright, eat some soup, Severus. I'll let you sleep after that. No more firewhiskey. I'll check in on you again tomorrow, and if you're still hungover when I do, I will cancel your Monday classes to make room for meetings with both myself and Albus. I assume you'll need the extra time to grade papers anyhow after wasting all of today."

Severus growled softly in her general direction, even though she was probably correct. He slowly stood up, feeling extremely light-headed and wobbly as he did. He grudgingly accepted Minerva's assistance to get to the desk, where Squeaky was arranging a bowl of soup as well as some toasted bread and a steaming and quite fragrant herbal tea.

---

On Sunday, Severus did hear Minerva knocking on his door, it just took him a few beats to distinguish the sound from the intense throbbing in his head. The one thing he had definitely established yesterday and today was that drinking away one's problems made them worse rather than better. Headaches made everything worse. Vomiting made everything much worse. Hives caused by the anti-emetic potion reacting with his still elevated blood alcohol level also compounded the misery, but at least the potion did stop the nausea. He just wished he had remembered that unfortunate side effect and picked a different option. In short, he was definitely still very hungover when Minerva let herself in.

She stared at him. "Are you actually ill today, Severus?" He shook his head, which was a big mistake. "You have a rash," she pressed.

"I noticed," he hissed. "It's from the Schatzki Vagal Tonic. It causes mast cell duplication and activation in the presence of sufficient levels of ethyl-aldehyde. Or formaldehyde. Really any of the small-molecule aldehydes... doesn't matter. I already did the blood measurements and can tell you I'm far enough on the tale end of this curve, I won't be dying of anaphylaxis, at least not today."

Minerva chuckled. "I made that mistake once, also with firewhiskey. But I suppose if you're capable of telling me exactly what went wrong and that this will definitely be the worst of it, then I won't worry. Just don't-"

"-Mix any anti-itch potions with it. I know. I have to suffer. I am a potions master, remember."

"Your potions expertise didn't stop you from taking Schatzki Vagal Tonic for your hangover."

He forced a grin. "No, but that's because I was still tipsy then, not even fully hungover. Merlin, yesterday was a mistake."

"Well, now you know." She dragged his desk chair across the wooden floor again, and Severus winced at the loud squeak. She sat down and folded her arms. "I'll cancel your classes tomorrow, double up some of the ones later in the week. Now, do you want to talk about it?"

"About what?"

"About why you drank yourself into a stupor yesterday. About your mother."

Severus frowned. "I don't remember telling you about her."

"Somehow, I'm not surprised."

"What did I say?"

Minerva looked down. "You said she'd been in the hospital since summer." Severus slowly nodded. Minerva looked up at him with sorrowful eyes. "You said she stopped using magic and was dying. You said she was somehow becoming an Obscurial." He squeezed his eyes shut, whether against his throbbing headache or the pain of Minerva's words, he wasn't sure. "Do you want to talk about it?" she repeated.

"I... what is there to say, Minerva?"

She shifted uncomfortably. "I'm sorry, I don't know. It is a terrible situation all 'round, and not one I have specifically heard of before. But Severus, I am here for you. Both as your supervisor... and as your friend. If you need time off to take care of things at St. Mungo's, or just for yourself, come to me. If you decide you do need something off your chest, come talk to me."

"Thank you."

"And don't take your problems out on the students."

"Was I?" Severus asked in surprise. He had thought he had stayed in his room all day.

Her nostrils flared in irritation. "We discussed Ms. Portchester's detention yesterday." Severus shrugged. He did not remember that part of their conversation either, and all the detentions from last week had nothing to do with his mother's worsening health, not that he would disabuse the deputy headmistress of the notion. Minerva's jaw worked, and she sighed. "To sum up, I do not believe it was deserved. Don't do it again."

Severus felt so miserable and apathetic at the moment, he actually rolled his eyes at the her. "No more detentions for Ms. Portchester. Got it."

Minerva's lips thinned dangerously. "We'll discuss this more at your meeting with me. Tomorrow morning at 10:15. Don't be late. You'll have one with Albus too, I'm sure."

Any retort he might have thought of died the instant he heard the rustle of the Protean journal. He had been distracting himself from his itching hives by re-reading some of Petunia's anecdotes from earlier in the fall, trying to figure out how else he could relate to Harry in future. He failed to close the thing properly in his misery and hungover inattention when Minerva came in, just dropped it carelessly on the end table.

Minerva found the source of the sound and picked up the journal curiously, which magically fell open to the active page, as it was meant to. Her eyes widened as she watched a new message from Petunia appear. "Severus, what is this?"

"It's a journal enchanted with the Protean charm," he grumbled, slouching further in his chair.

"I can see that. Where did you get this? Who has the other one, and why are they writing to you about Harry Potter and Potter's muggle family?" The last was a veritable shout that set his tender ears ringing.

"I made it," he said evenly. "I gave the other to Petunia Dursley last year. I knew her when I was a child, before Hogwarts. I answer her questions about magical youth as best I can."

Minerva gaped down at the journal again. "P is for Petunia... You're S, obviously. V is her husband, then?"

"Vernon, yes."

"You were at Petunia Dursley's house on Friday?!"

Severus winced. "Yes. It was her idea. I was also there for Harry's birthday, and briefly around last Christmas."

"Please tell me Albus knows about this."

"...I will tell him at the meeting tomorrow," he said grudgingly.

Minerva dropped the journal again and leaned her forehead on her fist. She inhaled sharply and moved her lips silently as if praying for patience. "I am disappointed, Severus, that you would risk that boy's safety like this."

Now Severus was annoyed. "I assure you, Minerva, I have been extremely cautious up 'til now. I am confident you are the only witch or wizard who knows that I have ever been to that house. And nothing you can say to me will cause me to regret it."

She huffed. "Fine. If you're discrete enough to turn traitor on You-Know-Who, I'll trust you're discrete enough for this, at least when you're not drunk. This part is Albus' problem. But you will tell him about it, by tomorrow at the latest. And you're not to leave the castle until you've spoken to him; I'll have the house elves make sure of that." Severus rolled his eyes again. He had no intention of leaving this room today, let alone the grounds. She was just being petty now. "You best keep better care of that journal from now on."

"You don't have to tell me that," he sneered.

Minerva stood up suddenly. "Alright, I'm done bothering you. For now. I have the whole week's schedule to rearrange. I trust you'll be in better shape tomorrow, and ready to return to work on Tuesday."

"I will," he agreed. He did feel guilty for being so grumpy at her when she was trying to be understanding.

"Good. And I meant it before. If you need a friend, I am here. You shouldn't be so alone, Severus, not now." She left without another word.

---

Severus received one other visitor that day. It was after lunch, when he had finally forced himself to start grading the mountain of student homework waiting for him. He was being unusually lenient, because he couldn't be bothered correcting everything. He wondered idly what the students would think of his sudden vacillations, not that he really cared one way or another. There was a timid knock on the door, and he gruffly called for entry. A Hufflepuff fifth year and prefect opened the door. She was one he had given detentions to three times this year alone, Melody Perkins. She was holding flowers, a cluster of grapes, and a card. Severus stared at her in surprise, wondering if this was a hallucination. It shouldn't be, he reasoned. He was not a chronic alcoholic. "What is it?"

She nervously stepped into the room. Finally, she smiled weakly. "Er, hello, Professor. Professor McGonagall told us all at lunch that potions classes tomorrow were canceled, because you were ill. Er... us 'Puffs figured that was why you were docking so many points and things last week, that you already were feeling under-the-weather, so this here's our apology for probably making you feel worse..." She extended the flowers and grapes. The card fluttered to the floor between them. Severus slowly reached down to pick it up. Melody quickly added, "I'm not trying to get out of detention or anything! I'm sure I probably deserved it! Just, um, get well soon..."

"You can put them on the desk," he said. Or rather, he tried to. It seemed his voice was gone. Perhaps he had miscalculated and his throat would soon be closing up from the Schatzki Vagal Tonic after all. The student understood, though. She took two steps forwards, set the flowers and grapes down, and practically ran from the room. He was unsure if she was terrified of him in general or merely of the possibility whatever he had was contagious. He appreciated Minerva had not told everyone he was suffering a hangover.

He looked down at the card. It was yellow, with large, cartoonish letters spelling Get Well Soon! on the front of it. There was also a drawing of a kitten with what appeared to be a muggle thermometer in its mouth, blinking up at him with droopy eyelids. He opened it up but had to close it again almost immediately; the inside was written in eye-straining color-changing inks. He took up his wand and muttered, "Impedimenta." The freezing jinx had many obscure utilitarian purposes beyond dueling. He opened the card again, all the colors temporarily static, and read,

Dear Professor Snape,

We are very sorry to hear you are sick. We know it must be very serious because you have  never  canceled potions class even once before. We appreciate your dedication to our education, even if we're not very good at showing it. We will try harder when we are back in class to follow your instructions and keep our voices down, especially while you are convalescing. Please forgive us for all the times we have been really, really clueless buffoons.

Get well soon!

Love,

All the Hufflepuffs

Indeed, it appeared virtually every Hufflepuff student had signed their names, even the sixth- and seventh-years who had dropped his class. He felt strangely touched as he closed the card again. These tokens from the Hufflepuffs more than anything Minerva had said to him made Severus feel rather guilty about all the detentions. None of his students had ever before been so nice to him! Of course, no one besides Lily had been nice to him when he was a student himself, either. He found himself wondering if he would have been happier in school if he had been in Hufflepuff.

He snorted to himself at that thought, but he carefully set the card on the shelf over the desk. The Sorting Hat may have struggled to place him, but Hufflepuff was the one house it had not considered for even a moment. He may be relatively hard-working, but he was not at all dedicated to this job, and no one had ever called him patient, fair, or nice, not even in jest. Well, he would try to reign in his impatience at the students, at least a little. Who knew how long that would last.

Notes:

well, Hogwarts was going to find out about this at some point, right? Thank you all for the comments! Title is reference to Ogden's Old Firewhiskey.

Chapter 11: Meeting with the Headmaster

Severus' mid-morning meeting with Minerva was unpleasant. She maintained a professional civility while chewing him out and then reviewing various policies of wellness education, teacher burnout, family leave, and the Hogwarts Points and Detentions bylaws, but Severus still left the meeting both annoyed and insulted. She had made him take notes through the lecture, as if he were still a student himself!

True to their word, the house-elves did provide him with multiple comfort food selections at lunch, including fish pie, cheese toasties, and bubble and squeak. He settled on half a cheese toastie, a large cup of water, and strong coffee to hopefully settle the last of his headache. He answered the various coworkers asking after his health in monosyllables. Poppy was the most persistent, naturally, staring into his still-bloodshot eyes suspiciously. He had to promise to call on her if he was not feeling 100% back to normal by the evening.

The headmaster had not been at lunch, so Severus took his time ascending the marble staircase to the second floor and thence to the Headmaster's Tower. "Acid pop," he said to the gargoyle blocking the entrance. He no longer questioned Albus' taste in sweets, or passwords. When the gargoyle sprang aside, he trudged onto the spiral staircase and rested his fingertips against the wall, feeling the grain of the stone slide past him soothingly. Albus was waiting for him, opening the door as soon as Severus reached the landing.

"Severus, come in, come in. Tea?" He took Severus' arm and guided him into a chair.

Severus shrugged, and Albus poured two cups of already-brewed and steaming Earl Grey tea. Severus held the warm cup but did not drink. Albus settled himself into his own chair and studied Severus behind his half-moon spectacles. "How are you feeling?"

"Better."

He sighed. "I visited your mother." Severus nodded. He had remembered that part of Saturday, fortunately, once Minerva jogged his memory. "I am sorry, Severus. Very sorry."

Severus' breath hissed out. He was a pessimist by nature and had not permitted himself to hope for much, even from Albus Dumbledore, but it was still disheartening to see the great wizard was clearly just as hopeless as he was in this case. "You see no solution, either, then?"

Albus shook his head sadly. "It is unlikely. I do not understand how this has come to pass exactly, but I agree with the healers. Eileen has become an Obscurial. Even after decades of study on the subject, I have not come across any known or even potential means of reversing the process once it begins, only of prolonging it." He hesitated a moment, then asked. "Severus, was there no warning? All my recent efforts with regards to Obscurials have focused on prevention, by identifying at-risk children as soon as possible."

Severus' lips twisted. "I admitted her to the hospital as soon as I knew something was wrong. I'm sure Healer Valerian told you the incident on Friday was the first of its kind. We had months of nothing before that."

"Yes, I know. Still, by my own research it takes years of social and behavioral changes before an Obscurus can manifest. Surely there must have been some sooner sign than this summer?"

A wave of nausea stole over him, and not from his headache. "Are you suggesting this is my fault? That I could have saved her if I acted sooner?" Severus asked quietly.

"Not your fault, Severus, of course not. But maybe..."

"If not my fault, then whose, Albus? Hers? Yours, since your 'early intervention' program failed to identify the abuse in the household when I was a child?" Not a single Hogwarts teacher had ever asked him about his home life until the fights with Black and Potter started to become truly out-of-hand towards the end of fourth year, by which time the older Slytherin students with ties to the Dark Lord already smelled weakness and were circling him like wolves.

"Severus-"

"What signs should I have noticed? When should I have seen them? I don't live with my mother most of the year, ever since I started working for you during the war and was camping out in various Death Eater households. I only see her on holidays now because I live and work here, remember? I never had a good relationship with her in the first place. Yes, she was more reserved and solitary, and I thought that was grief after her husband was murdered in front of her by a member of her own family. I thought that was normal! Why the hell would I think she could possibly stop using magic and become an Obscurial?" He fell silent, still fuming. The worst thing was, Albus' question was exactly what he had asked himself. Why did he not see, and act, sooner? Eileen's death was on him, because she had no one else in the world anymore, and he had turned a blind eye to that fact. He had remained absent and pursued his own vengeance rather than offering Eileen any real comfort or companionship. And he could have. Merlin knew he wrote to Petunia Dursley more than he did his own mother. Why was he more determined to do right by Lily than by Eileen? Bitterness over his own childhood? He could have made overtures to salvage their family, if he had wanted to. And he should have. It would have been easier than it ever had been before, with only the specter of Tobias Snape to stand between them, not the wretched man himself.

It took a moment for him to realize Albus was speaking again. He shook his head. "Sorry, what did you say?"

Albus offered a kind and apologetic smile. "I said 'I'm sorry.' You're right. There was no reason you would have anticipated something like this, realistically. That was my own frustration speaking, and suggesting it was unfair to you who are far closer to the problem than I. And perhaps there is some hope, since Eileen's case is so different from what I have seen before. This is completely uncharted territory, but we can hope that means the destination remains unknown. I have offered my continuing services to St. Mungo's and the Department of Mysteries in this matter. We will not give up, not yet."

Severus nodded, just a quick jerk of the head. "Thank you."

They sipped tea for a moment in silence, seeming both equally shame-faced at how that conversation had gone. Then Albus cleared his throat. "There was another matter to discuss, which Minerva brought to my attention yesterday upon my return from St. Mungo's."

Severus grimaced. "I told her I would tell you about that."

"Evidently, she thought it might slip your mind, or that it was too important to delay telling me. Which it is," he said pointedly. Severus could tell the usually calm and stoic headmaster was actually quite outraged by Severus' activities and was trying to hide it. "Severus, what were you thinking, going to see Petunia and Harry?"

"I was thinking about Lily," Severus said. Albus' expression morphed to that of the compassionate but professionally disappointed teacher, the same one he had used every time after one of Severus' schoolyard feuds dramatic enough to reach the Headmaster's office. At twenty-three, Severus was getting too old himself for that to work, however. So rather than waiting for the impending lecture on responsibility and self-sacrifice and whatever else, he headed Albus off. "What were you thinking, leaving him there with no intention of making contact until further notice? Did you know Petunia and her whole family were hiding Harry and pretending he did not exist for an entire year before I visited them for the first time?"

"I... did not." Albus sounded quite taken aback. This was the first time Severus had ever really criticized him since they started working together. "I explained the blood protections in my letter," Albus said, more to himself than to Severus.

"Did you remember to write your letter at the muggle reading level? Or provide a way for them to ask questions if they were confused about it? I hope you recall Lily and Petunia's mother was murdered by Death Eaters as well, which Petunia figured out easily enough even though no one told her the details at the time. You're so sanctimonious about intervening for Obscurials early, did you know Petunia and her husband had every intention of trying to squash the magic out of Harry if I hadn't warned them not to?"

Albus leaned back and steepled his fingers, his face turning ashen. "I take it you believe me to have been incredibly foolish," he said quietly.

Severus snorted. "Yes. But that is in the past. The family is doing better. Their problems are ordinary ones now." He smiled briefly and without mirth. "In fact, the first time I realized my own mother was so ill was when I went to her on Petunia's behalf, for advice on handling accidental magic in such a young child."

"Will you tell me about your experience with them, Severus? From the beginning."

Severus nodded tiredly and summarized his four visits to the Dursley's, his enchantment of the Protean journal, his pertinent conversations with Petunia, and what he had observed of Harry at his most recent visits. When he was finished, Albus' first question was, "Why did you introduce yourself to Harry as his uncle?"

Severus shrugged. "It's an easier story than the truth."

"And harder for me or anyone else to pull you back out of that family now that you've ingratiated yourself so far," Albus observed disapprovingly.

Severus grinned. "There is that. Being part of his life... it is important to me, Albus." His grin faded. Especially now. He would have no one else, soon.

Albus frowned. After a moment, he spoke with an air of decisiveness: "I will not try to forbid you from continuing this venture. But I do have some of my own requirements."

Severus pursed his lips but nodded for the headmaster to continue. "Firstly, you will keep me informed from now on. I would like updates at least quarterly."

He fought not to roll his eyes. Albus had been perfectly content to ignore the three-year-old entirely until Severus had pointed out the foolishness of that plan. "I'm your spy amongst the Death Eaters not amongst the Dursleys. I'll let you know if something happens that should concern you, but I'm not going to interrogate Petunia and Vernon or unduly influence their parenting practices on your behalf."

Albus shrugged. "I'll ask after them at Christmas at least."

"Fine."

"Secondly, I know Lily is your chief concern, but you are not to disparage James. You must not let your history with him tarnish Harry's imagination of his parents and his pride in his heritage."

Now Severus actually rolled his eyes. "I know that. I have kept my opinions absolutely to myself, both around the children and around Vernon. Petunia already knew I didn't like James, but much could be said of her as well, and she is just as good at biting her tongue as I am. You see, this is why I don't like talking to you and Minerva about my problems. You two don't trust me. Even Petunia Dursley has more faith in my competence and sincerity than you do, and she is one of the most suspicious people I have ever met!"

Albus' eyes widened. "Severus, that is not true. Of course I trust you."

"You trust me to try to do the right thing by Lily, which you define as bowing to your master plan," Severus corrected. Their relationship had always been lopsided, with Severus transitioning straight from Albus' trouble-making student to his lowly, oath- and guilt-bound weapon against the Dark. It had taken awhile, but Severus realized he wanted something besides that, now. He shrugged. "During the war, that was absolutely true. I felt... so guilty. I did not trust my own judgment, but I trusted yours. I trusted your judgment right up until I sat in Petunia's parlor for the first time and learned she was hiding Harry in a cupboard. Then I realized you might be just as fallible as I am." He looked down for a moment. "I still respect you, Albus. Of course I do. And I do have faith in your ability to lead us, should your suspicions of the Dark Lord's eventual return prove true. And you can absolutely believe me when I say I would do everything in my power to honor Lily, and therefore Harry and Petunia." He grinned again. "But you really have to trust someone else with the details once in awhile, and not just Minerva. Her mind may be a filing cabinet, but she's just one woman."

Albus took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, not looking at him. "You feel very strongly about this... vocation you have taken on."

"Obviously."

"I do trust you, Severus. I hope you can believe that, even if I have apparently failed to show such to you to your satisfaction." He toyed idly with one of the odd silver instruments on his desk, then appeared to reach some internal resolution and looked back at Severus' face. "I will go along with this, as I said, but we should consider how to do the thing properly. It was not my intent for Harry to rejoin the wizarding world until he was much older, and... I still think it will be difficult for you to be the one to tell Harry about his father and find ways to speak well of James with your history."

"It will be, but I can do it."

"If you are to be Harry's uncle and Lily's brother, perhaps we could introduce someone else to represent James? Not another pseudo-uncle, but a friend at least. Remus?"

"I don't think that's a good idea," Severus said evenly.

"Come now, I know you two have had your differences, but surely..."

"I don't think it is a good idea for reasons other than never liking Remus, even though he was admittedly not as much of a bully as James and Black."

Albus raised a skeptical eyebrow. "Indeed?" He sounded amused. Severus was back to being a student, his two seconds of being a quasi-peer used up.

Severus continued coolly, "In fact, I have three reasons. Number one, Remus is a werewolf and therefore closely monitored by the Ministry when he is traveling in populated areas. Macnair has returned to the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, and we don't want him to learn Harry's location, for all his supposed Imperius-cursed innocence."

Albus frowned and nodded in clear acknowledgment of Severus' logic.

"Number two, Remus may be a half-blood, but he never lived in the muggle world, even as a child, because of his condition. He doesn't blend in, not as I can. You've only been to Little Whinging once at night, yes? Trust me, Remus would stand out like a sore thumb in that neighborhood with his scars and the general malaise of lycanthropy, even assuming he went in muggle clothing. He would draw unwanted attention, which neither we nor the Dursley's want. And number three, possibly most importantly, Petunia and Vernon have final say in who they allow enter their house and interact with their children, not you. And they don't want even more wizards around, certainly not now. Petunia didn't even want you to come by when I mentioned it at my first visit."

"You did?" Albus asked, taken aback yet again by that part.

"I did, in case she wanted someone else, more trusted, to verify what I had told her."

Incongruously, Albus suddenly chuckled and raised his teacup in a kind of toast. "I am chagrined for the third time this afternoon, Severus. You are quite the clever man, and doing a good job. My apologies for underestimating you. I might have liked to know sooner... but I will not hold it against you for keeping this secret."

"Er...thank you."

"After all, I have been keeping secrets from you as well. I am not quite so addle-brained as I must seem as to leave young Harry totally unmonitored." Severus raised his eyebrows. Albus beamed. "Did you ever meet Arabella Figg? Lovely woman. She moved to Little Whinging last year. She's not nearly as good at infiltration as you, though. The most she's gotten back to me are passing conversations with Petunia when they meet on the footpath, all long after your first contact. She never said one word about seeing you, or even 'Petunia's brother,' or anything about the Dudley-Harry problems you mentioned earlier..."

Typical. No, Severus had never met Arabella personally, but he knew all about her, as Albus was perfectly aware. She was a squib, and she had no living family in the magical world anymore. During the war, several Death Eaters had taken it upon themselves to "cull" what they considered "diseased" bloodlines, meaning any that had produced squibs in recent generations. They were some of the worst killings in the war, with whole families wiped out indiscriminately, including children. Arabella had only survived because Albus himself had extracted her when Severus sent word of the ongoing massacre; the squib was always killed last, whether from expedience or sadism Severus wasn't sure. Severus knew for a fact Argus' few remaining family had died the same way, with Argus himself unreachable in Hogwarts. The McKinnons...

Well, there was no point in being offended at Albus' little subterfuge. The man had fingers in more pies even than the Malfoys, for all he pretended to be a guileless eccentric, all his titles mere honorifics.

"I'm sure you'll be filling her in on this conversation?" Severus asked drily.

"I like my spies to be reasonably well-informed. It makes them much happier with me."

Severus smirked. "That it does." He paused, and then said reluctantly, "I'll have a quarterly update ready for you at Christmas." If Arabella Figg was going to be watching for him now, it would be difficult to conceal anything noteworthy anyways, not to mention pointless. He wasn't working at cross-hairs with Albus, not deliberately.

"Thank you, Severus. I knew I could count on you. More tea?"

Notes:

There is no canon so far as I know as to what happened to Mrs. Figg's or Mr. Filch's family, so that was some macabre license on my part. Also no mention of the McKinnons having a squib in the family, but it seemed like an explanation in keeping with the blood-purity extremism, since there's not a lot of other argument to wipe out an entire pureblood family when you could conceivably take all the children, adopt them out/marry them off, and indoctrinate them instead like real-world terrorist groups tend to do (Islamic State and Boko Haram come to mind).

Chapter 12: My Neighbor the Spy

I have news for you. Possibly unwelcome, but not actually  bad.  -S

Petunia happened to be in the bedroom putting away laundry when she heard the unmistakable rustle of Severus' journal. When she saw the message, she wrote back immediately. I'm here. What is it? -P

Albus Dumbledore has a plant in your neighborhood, Ms. Arabella Figg. -S

What? I thought you said there were no other magical folk around and that the plan was to keep it that way? -P Severus was wrong. So far as Petunia was concerned, this was terrible news.

I thought that was the plan too. Technically, it still is. Arabella is not a witch. She is a squib. -S

You realize I have no idea what that's supposed to mean? -P

I'm getting to it. A squib is one whose parents are both magical but lack any magical ability themselves. Sort of like the opposite of Lily. I do understand Albus' reasoning in this case. Arabella's wizarding family all perished in the war, and our government keep no records of squibs at all if they choose to leave our society. In that way, her cover is perfect. -S

Petunia reread the explanation a few times. He was right, she supposed. It actually wasn't that bad. Petunia had certainly never guessed Arabella had anything to do with the magical community the few times they had met. Still, it rankled. She's been living here for more than a year at this point, Severus. I would have liked to know sooner. -P

I understand. I did not know of her either, or I would have informed you. -S

From that, she assumed the oh-so-wonderful Albus Dumbledore had never intended for her to know at all. Condescending old bat probably remembered the stupid letter she had written him when she was thirteen and hadn't considered she might have matured since then. It's not actually reassuring to have multiple parties from your world spying on us. -P

If it's any consolation, she doesn't seem to be much of a spy. Albus had no idea you were having trouble with the boys fighting, that you had been in hiding for all of the first year, nor that I was involved until I told him. -S

Really? I've run into her with the boys multiple times, and I'm sure she must have heard about 'my brother' by now, with the frequency Harry brings you up. He's not a subtle conversationalist. Not to mention the local gossips as well. -P She supposed she could charitably consider this evidence Severus' cover identity was a good one though.

I suppose she never looked into your family history further. Why does Harry talk about  me  frequently? -S

Petunia smiled softly then. Severus wouldn't know about that, because she hadn't told him yet. Harry had talked about Severus on and off ever since meeting him for the first time, and even more since his birthday. This weekend, with Marge also bringing Severus up with embarrassing frequency, the commentary was virtually non-stop. God knows. He likes you, I guess. He always points out when he's wearing one of 'Uncle Sev's shirts.' He even told the psychologist about you at our first appointment when he was drawing pictures of the family. She thought you might be a stand-in for his missing parents in his mind, but one that actually comes back, unlike Lily and James. Or maybe he senses the magic in you somehow? Can he do that? -P

Severus' answer was long in coming. It is possible for wizards to sense magic, yes, although the sensation is ordinarily rather vague, and few do the work to train that into a useful skill. If Harry is reacting to my own magic, he won't understand why. He will only know I cause him a different feeling than others. -S

Petunia smirked as she realized Severus probably wouldn't have thought of that possibility if she had not suggested it. What would Lily think of her motherly intuition when it came to weird mumbo-jumbo, hmm? On the other hand, Harry's interest in Severus could still just as easily be what the psychologist had said, and the reason didn't really matter much. Well, that's one mystery solved. Not a bad thing, I guess. Back on the subject of Arabella, I'm not sure what the point of her being here is if she's not even very good at spying on us. -P Rachel and Petunia were both much better gossipmongers.

Well, you don't need a spy, after all. Think of her as my back up. If you ever cannot get in touch with me in a crisis, she will still have ways of engaging with Albus or others in the magical world if needed. -S

She's offered to babysit before. I've never taken her or anyone else up on it for fear of Harry having an 'accident,' but I guess she would be prepared for that. -P

You might as well let her try her hand, particularly if you ever need to go or take Dudley someplace that might be risky for Harry. -S

That was an excellent point, actually. She and Vernon had asked Severus his opinion on possible family vacation destinations before, wanting to make sure they did not accidentally camp next door to some wizarding family. Severus had reassured them the chance of that was pretty low. When they had asked about the capital, though, with hopes of visiting Vernon's parents, Severus had written, London has a lot of us, as well as the offices for the Ministry for Magic. Obviously the city is huge, and he'd likely never be noticed in the crowds, but the address you've written happens to be quite close to Diagon Alley, I'm afraid. -S Diagon Alley was a place Petunia had heard much about from Lily, though never herself seen. Initially, that was their parents' decision, but later, it was her own stubbornness. And then her own fear when Lily told her in whispers carefully hidden from their mother about the increasing violence in the magical world during her last years at Hogwarts.

Petunia deliberately set that thought aside. Proximity to Diagon Alley was a danger to Harry, not to herself. Random wizards did not know Petunia Dursley from any other non-magical stranger. She wrote back, It would be wonderful to visit Vernon's parents together for a change. If you think it a good idea, maybe I will see how Harry gets along with Arabella. I don't want him to feel completely abandoned while the rest of us go somewhere. -P

If it helps, I may be able to coordinate a visit while he's at Arabella's house if you'd be away for more than a day, assuming she (and therefore Albus) would agree to that. Might also be a useful trial run before packing them off to preschool. -S

If we can even find a preschool with openings! But that's another good point. I'll talk to Vernon about it. If nothing else, maybe the two of us can finally have a date night again. -P They hadn't been willing to leave the children in someone else's care for more than an hour at a time, and only then if one or both were settling down for naps.

Petunia's happy imagination stilled at Severus' next message. I should also let you know my availability may become... less reliable. My mother took a turn for the worse. I got the news right after getting back from the party on Friday. -S

Oh, dear. I'm sorry to hear that! -P

Yes ...Anyway, I never take the journal with me to the hospital. Too risky. I'll most likely be spending even more of my weekend time there, for the foreseeable future. -S

How bad is it? You said once before- Petunia stopped writing without finishing the sentence, holding her pen in the air. She never knew how much she should ask, with him. She had a feeling that she probably should press more, though, for his sake as much as anything else.

I said before that she was dying. I can say it with more confidence now. Realistically speaking, she will not recover. I just don't know when the end will come. -S

Good God, the man was so clinical about this, even considering it was in writing rather than spoken word. I'm sorry. I wish there were something I could do. -P

Just keep writing me stories about the children. Those are almost always the highlight of my day.  Much  more charming and entertaining than what the teenagers here get up to. -S

You only say that because you don't live here. 'Grass is always greener.' But I will do that. -P

There was nothing more, and Petunia closed and locked the book thoughtfully. She should talk to Vernon later, and not just about Arabella Figg. They had made the gradual decision to make Severus a small part of their family. She knew what it was like to lose a parent and have no one to talk to about it, but at least she had had Vernon. She had a strong suspicion that Severus didn't have anyone else that he wanted to talk to about this, or possibly that he didn't have any close friends now that Lily was gone. Why else would he have shown up in tears on her doorstep a year later, particularly in light of the previous estrangement? Why else would he spontaneously tell her he thought his mother was dying several months ago before it was even certain, and then immediately change the subject? She knew his father was dead too, had seen the obituary a few months before Lily's when she was visiting her mum back in Cokeworth, but she also knew Severus' feelings about his father's death were probably much more mixed. Everyone in the neighborhood had known Tobias Snape beat his son black and blue on a regular basis. Severus' losing his mother to whatever wasting illness she apparently had would be different.

Petunia had a feel for this kind of thing, and while other people thought that meant she was "nosy," that was really just a matter of perspective, and a matter of what she did with the information she found. In this case, what she wanted to do... was help a friend get through one of the hardest parts of life.

---

It felt much longer than three hours for Vernon to return that evening. By the time he did, Petunia had had plenty of time to think of what she wanted to say to one Arabella Figg. "I've already fed the boys. There's a plate for you in the oven, dear. I need to go out for a few minutes."

Vernon kissed her cheek. "Boys acting up today? Keep you from getting to the shops? You should call me at work next time and have me pick things up."

"No, it's something else. I'll tell you when I get back, I just don't want to leave this for too late. Eat without me."

"Alright, Pet." He moved past her towards the parlor. "Daddy's home! Where's Dudders? Oh! Who is that under the blanket? Is it... Ah! Dudders and Harry!"

Petunia smiled at Dudley's excited clamor and Harry's giggling, shrugged into her jacket, put a torch in her pocket since the sun was setting, and headed out the door. It was a short, brisk walk up Privet Drive, past Clematis Street and Ivy Street, and left onto Wisteria Walk. She strode straight up to Ms. Figg's house and knocked on the door rather than politely ringing the doorbell. She wrinkled her nose at the distinct odor of cats lingering on the doormat even outside. After a few seconds, she knocked again, sharply, to make her ire plain before a word was ever spoken. The door opened moments later.

Petunia looked down her nose at Arabella, who was a rather short old woman. She was currently wearing a dressing gown and slippers rather than day clothes. A long-haired, squash-faced cat poked his head around her legs. Petunia frowned at it, then back at Arabella. "You and I need to talk," she said crisply.

Arabella squinted up at her uncertainly. "We do? Is it urgent, Petunia dear?"

"Urgent enough."

"Er, then come on in, of course." She stepped back to allow Petunia passage. The front room was the living room, with a sofa, armchair, coffee table, and television. All perfectly normal except for the unpleasant amount of cat hair covering everything. And cats. The cats were all of them staring at her. "Have a seat. Would you like some tea?"

"No, thank you." Ms. Figg stiffened. It was rude to refuse a cup of tea. Petunia knew that just as Arabella did, and Petunia had not even bothered to make her tone polite. She was here to be rude, quite intentionally. Petunia sat in the very middle of the couch, posture upright, ankles crossed, gaze fixed on her host, who duly, and quietly, sat in the flower-print armchair opposite.

"What is this about, Petunia?"

"I have it on good authority that you, Ms. Figg, moved to this neighborhood at the behest of Albus Dumbledore. To spy. On me. And my family. I am displeased."

Arabella's eyes widened. "How did you-"

"I have friends. Ones who are willing and able to keep me informed when something comes to their attention pertinent to me and my family."

The older woman's eyes narrowed. "Who are-"

"If your employer wants you to know, I'm sure he will tell you."

Arabella sighed. "When did you find out?"

"Today."

"Did I do anything to give it away?"

Petunia hesitated for a moment before answering, "No."

"Well, that's a relief at least. Look, I understand why you're upset, and for what it's worth, I'm sorry."

"Are you?" Petunia asked skeptically.

Arabella ducked her head. "Mostly sorry you found out. Albus didn't want you to know I was here. He thought it was more secure that way."

"Well, cat's out of the bag," Petunia said unsympathetically. "I don't appreciate being spied on."

Arabella chuckled briefly. "But Petunia, isn't that what you do? What all the women around here do? Anytime I stop to talk to a neighbor, it's all gossip."

Petunia treated her to a withering glare. "Gossip amongst neighbors is not the same as what you're doing. Albus Dumbledore is an outsider. I don't mind if Rachel Hanson sees what kind of knickers I've got drying on the line. I do mind if it's a strange old man who lives in a castle in Scotland! He doesn't have the right to nose about around here, especially behind my back."

Rather than looking offended, Arabella actually looked thoughtful. "I see where you're coming from," she conceded. "It is different. It's taken me awhile to get used to how things work here. Suburbs, I mean. I grew up out in the country, but I've lived in downtown Manchester for thirty years. In cities, and in the wizarding world for that matter, your friend group may be insular, but the gossip rings aren't arranged geographically. I hardly knew most of the people living in my building. This place is more like the country village than the city, in that respect. Right, how angry are you and Vernon, and how can I make this better so we can work past this? I'm not moving away. I'm here to keep an eye on Harry, for safety reasons. I don't have to be your friend to do that."

"And if we moved, you'd follow," Petunia grumbled.

"Probably," Arabella admitted. "Plus, Albus explained to me that you ideally shouldn't move, at least not while Harry's a child."

"Why?" Petunia asked, despite herself.

"Because he'd have to move all the protective enchantments with you. He said they're finicky, and he would need advanced notice if you ever did need to move. He even said if there was anyone or anything in the neighborhood you particularly didn't get on with, I should give them a nudge myself so as not to inconvenience you, just in case."

Petunia stared at her. "That is creepy."

"Albus is...unconventional."

"Well. You're to do nothing manipulative behind my back. If we decide we want to move, we'll bloody well move! Your precious Albus can complain to me and convince me that his opinions are valid."

"Done."

..."I was expecting you to argue."

Arabella shrugged. "And I was expecting to fly under your radar for years. Albus didn't give me instructions as to what I should do if you unexpectedly found out I was here on his behalf." She grinned. "Probably because he's still drafting the letter. That means tonight is most likely your only chance to negotiate with me as a somewhat free agent. I tend to take Albus' advice, but he won't force me to renege on promises I make to you. He's a bit barmy, but he's not like that."

Petunia huffed. "Why are you so loyal to him?" she asked curiously.

"He saved my life, and a lot of other folk like me during the war."

"Squibs?" Petunia asked, remembering the word Severus had used.

Arabella nodded, looking faintly surprised. "A lot of wizard folk don't care much for people like me who can't do magic even though our parents could. Or people like your sister who could do magic even though her parents couldn't, for that matter. Albus cares. He respects us. He fought for us. That's worth my loyalty."

Petunia couldn't really argue with that. She slowly allowed her rigid posture to relax slightly. "I'm willing to forgive you, if you're willing to make some concessions to me."

"Such as?"

"First, how do you make your reports?"

"I write a letter every two weeks and give it to that tomcat there." She pointed at a particularly ugly, tabby fellow. "He's three-quarters kneazle. That's a kind of preternaturally intelligent magical cat, but being a crossbreed with a regular housecat, he doesn't show up if anyone's looking for magical signals in the area. He takes it up the tree in the backyard, and gives it to an owl at night. The owl gets it to Albus, although I think it might change birds partway there or something to make it harder to track."

Well, that was absurdly inefficient compared to Severus' lovely journal. Petunia wasn't about to point that out though. "Alright. You can report anything you want about neighborhood 'security.' You do not report the routine comings and goings of my family, not even Harry. You do not report gossip. You do not speculate about us. You do not report things concerned with our private lives as a family. If you're not sure whether something you think is pertinent should go into the report, ask me."

Arabella considered this but finally nodded. "That sounds reasonable to me. If Albus complains, I'll tell him to talk to you."

"I'd also like to see the next report, before you send it."

"That also sounds reasonable, as a gesture of good faith. It's mostly done, actually. I can show it to you now if you want."

"I'll read it after you've updated it with this lovely little chat."

"Good point. Oh, before I forget, I've also got an emergency portkey Albus enchanted for me upstairs in a lockbox, in case there was ever a big emergency and someone needed to get out fast. It would work for your whole family in a pinch." She shrugged. "Not that it looks like we'll ever be needing it at this point, but I figured you'd like to know, while we're on the subject of my covert connections with the magical world."

Petunia's eyes narrowed. "What's a portkey?"

"Well, this one's a stick, but there's a spell on it so that if you break off the little twig on the end, anyone who's touching it will be rapidly transported to a safehouse...down in Devon, I think."

Petunia's heart skipped a beat, just at the concept that such an escape route had been planned. She hated these odd reminders of potential danger. She did not let her discomfort show, though. "Hmm. I hope you were planning to keep that thing very secure in its lockbox if ever I consented to let you babysit Harry and Dudley at some point."

Arabella actually laughed. "Oh, of course! Toddlers, they do get into everything, eh? Magical ones can be even worse. No, I keep it where even a determined little Harry nosing after a whiff of magic wouldn't be able to ferret it out. Were you actually interested in the babysitting idea, though?"

Petunia shrugged. "Maybe. I always refused before because of the risk of a babysitter seeing Harry do something unusual."

"Mm. Does he have accidents often? My nephews weren't all that noticeable until they were a little older than Harry is, but every once in a while they'd do something that made me awfully glad my sister's next-door neighbors were also witches."

"You'll find out if and when Vernon and I decide that's information you deserve to know."

She laughed again. "Goodness, Petunia, I see your boys have themselves a mighty, and careful, defender."

"Do you blame me?"

"No. Of course not. And I think meeting you, actually meeting you, and having this honest conversation has made it clear to me that Albus was on the wrong track sending me here in secret. You're someone who does better with more information, aren't you?" Petunia wasn't sure how to answer that, but Arabella continued anyway. "I'll still be working for Albus, but I'm happy to be a resource for you too, now that we can see eye-to-eye. Little children are hard enough to take care of in and of themselves, let alone when they start making new trouble out of thin air."

"Did you ever have children?"

"No... and my marriage didn't last." She grinned, but it was mournful. "I was an idiot hoping to snag a wizard back in my beauty days. I didn't realize how unlikely that was for... decades."

"Why unlikely?"

"Well, almost every witch and wizard in the country goes to Hogwarts. Everyone knows everyone else who's anywhere near their own age from school. Half of them get married within a few years of graduation! It's hard enough as a squib to keep a foothold in the magical world at all, let alone find ways to meet new people when the community you're trying to break into is so tight-knit. Not to mention the posh pricks who wouldn't consider it because you're a squib." Seemed Petunia had hit a sore point. She decided to let the surprisingly chatty woman ramble, listening quietly as Arabella grumbled about the prejudice that so flavored the life of a squib in the magical world. She did not say so, but Petunia knew enough from Lily's old whispers and Severus' dark comments, she had the distinct feeling that prejudice had spilled over into actual violence during the war. It wouldn't be polite to ask about that this evening though. Eventually, Arabella shrugged. "I did meet a very nice muggle widower when I was forty, but I realized a few years after I married him that I was settling for a life I didn't really want. He didn't like cats much, and he really didn't like mine, since they're all part-kneazle and liked antagonizing him for fun. So we divorced. And then the war happened. And then I moved here. It's not actually that bad, living alone and under cover. At least no one complains about the cats."

"I would, if I were here every day," Petunia told her bluntly. "But it's your house, I suppose." She stood up. "It's late. I should be going."

"I can't decide if I should thank you for coming or not," Arabella mused as she climbed to her feet as well.

"I'll thank you. For listening well. And being reasonable. Not like your barmy boss."

"I might have to put that in the report. Give Albus a good chuckle. Why don't you come over for tea later this week, Petunia dear? We can talk some more, and I can show you the report. If you want to bring the boys, I do have a litter of kittens in the spare bedroom upstairs right now, and they're at a good age for children. Not so small they'll be easily hurt with un-gentle handling, not so large to have dangerous scratches or bites."

"I'll think about it and ring you tomorrow. I have your number from before."

"Good, good. That sounds lovely. Goodnight, then, Petunia."

"Goodnight, Arabella."

The two women shook hands, then Arabella escorted Petunia out, catching a would-be escaping cat by the tail before it could try to follow Petunia out the door. Night was falling fast. Petunia switched on her torch and stalked back down the footpath, headed for home. Overall, she was pleased with how that conversation had gone, and she was glad she had taken care of it without dithering overly much with either Severus or Vernon. Better for she and Arabella to come to a women's agreement and inform their menfolk rather than the other way around. Arabella was someone who was willing to respect Petunia's maternal authority. Unlike Albus Dumbledore.

Notes:

Won't be seeing that much of Ms. Figg, but nice for Petunia to have an older woman to talk to even if it ends up mostly off-screen. One of Petunia's primary characteristics in the books is of course nosiness. My version of the character is just as nosy as the original, but as Petunia says, it's a matter of perspective whether this is a good or bad thing. In a tight-knit community, which is what my version of Little Whinging is, nosiness about your neighbors is pretty normal and accepted even if it is annoying, but equally normal is protectiveness of your neighbors from outside intrusion. And I'd argue the cannon wizarding community is the same way, with everyone knowing everybody and half the newspaper being gossip column. I honestly found it kind of weird when I moved away from my own small town into an apartment building and rarely saw most of my neighbors at all, yet Gossip River continued to run strong at work lol.

Chapter 13: Trials

Severus was honest-to-Merlin trying to be patient around the students, but both Minerva with her fiendish schedules and the students with their blithering idiocy were conspiring to sabotage him. There were four double-classes in preparation for mid-year examinations today, two in the morning and two in the afternoon. In all that he had given out only two detentions, so at the end of the day, he had to congratulate himself for his own self-control, since no one else would do it. Those two Gryffindor sixth years soundly deserved their punishments, he thought self-righteously, for using the engorgement charm to increase the weight of the liverwort they had chopped, rather than going back to the supply cabinet for more. Minerva did not find fault with him when she asked him about it that evening (he had deducted rather a lot of house points as well). Magically falsifying potions ingredients was such a profoundly idiotic and juvenile mistake, they had both questioned if the students had somehow cheated on their O.W.L.s. After all, Severus made sure to caution against such foolishness in the first and second year classes as part of the Basic Principles of Potioneering curriculum... Really, they were lucky to get off with just one detention each. A few weeks ago, he would have assigned them a month's worth, and possibly banned them from his class.

It occurred to him on the way back from dinner, he did not remember exactly when Horace Slughorn had covered the subject, though. He was sure the old potions master did, of course, but perhaps it had been later on, in which case the fourth, fifth, sixth, and seventh years could all be missing out simply because of the change in professor. He made a mental note to himself to check if Minerva had any of Horace's old syllabi on file and to test all the upper years on their foundational knowledge again to ensure there were no glaring gaps. He could probably still addend it to the midterms next week. Depending on the results, he was strongly considering restricting his N.E.W.T. classes to those with Outstanding rather than Exceeds Expectations at the end of fifth year. The event today had proved harmless, because he had noticed and destroyed the botched potion early. But some of the other advanced brews could have produced dangerous effects instantly. The whole class could have ended up in the hospital wing or even St. Mungo's if the day's lesson had concerned the Essence of Insanity rather than the Galenic Wound Cleaning Potion...

He decided not to grade any papers yet when he arrived back in his quarters, for the sake of his red ink supply. Instead, he opened the Protean journal to find something completely unexpected: several pages were covered in multi-colored scribbles which appeared to be wax crayon when he inspected it. Fortunately, he could still mostly make out his and Petunia's most recent conversation underneath, and the scribbles only filled one more page after the end of the writing. It was fairly obvious what had occurred, but he still asked, What happened? -S

He grinned when Petunia wrote back, Dudley and Harry did. I put the kettle on and was about to start writing you about... I don't even remember anymore. Nothing important. But the postman came with a package I had to sign for, then the kettle was boiling, then I spilled the tea... long story short, they found the journal. Hope you like the artwork they made just for you. -P

It's very avantgarde -S

It really isn't. All of their drawings look exactly the same -P

I disagree. I clearly recall one done all in purple before. It's entirely different. -S

Very funny -P

She seemed right peeved today. She even drew an angry face to punctuate her words. Then to his surprise, more crayon started appearing. He smiled as he watched several stick-figure people take shape. And an unidentifiable stick-figure non-human creature. Objectively, the drawings were quite horrifying, with their huge blobby heads, dysmorphic features, gaping smiles, and vague impressions of limbs with no real body to speak of, Severus mused. It was only the fact they were drawn by a tiny child that made them remotely appealing. Petunia helpfully labeled them Severus, Harry, Petunia, Dudley, Vernon, cat. I told Harry to draw a special picture for Uncle Sev -P

You'll have to thank him for me. Perhaps more art supplies are in order for Christmas this year -S

That, or a rucksack. We finally found a preschool with open seats, and the boys will be starting in January. Just mornings. I did also fix things with Arabella and we agreed to have her keep the boys for a few hours this Friday while Vernon and I go out. If that goes well, I'll let her watch Harry while we take Dudders to visit the grandparents in London the week before Christmas. -P

Let me know if there is anything I can do to help. -S It would be nice to have an excuse to visit.

I will. She seemed very confident, though. Apparently she used to babysit her nephews when they were little, so she's not nervous about accidental magic -P

Severus winced. Those nephews were all dead now, as far as he knew. That was Arabella's tale to tell, though. I hope it works out well. -S

I'm hopeful it will. Dudley's tantrums have gotten a bit better recently. How was your day? -P

Severus stared at the question in surprise. He didn't recall her ever asking him generally about his life before. Was she genuinely curious, or being polite? Bored? He realized he was waiting too long and wrote back honestly, Long. Two of the senior students made an error so egregious this afternoon... well, let's just say I'm reassessing my efficacy in the classroom, if any pupil of mine for almost three years could do that. -S

What on earth did they do? -P Briefly, Severus explained what had happened, in as muggle-friendly terms as he could. He was still surprised she was expressing interest in his work. So, it would be like making a meat pie and not having enough lard for the pastry, so mixing in some lye soap on the principle it used to be lard? -P

That wasn't a bad analogy actually. Sort of, if the risks of adding the soap included making something not just moderately poisonous but probably deadly and possibly explosive. -S He further explained the various corrective measures he was planning, which led to her inquiring what O.W.L.s actually were. Lily had worried a lot about them in Petunia's hearing but never really specified, and Petunia at the time had not cared to ask for clarification. After detailing what the fifth and seventh year standardized exams generally entailed, Petunia concluded they were basically equivalent to the non-magical GCSEs and A-levels, respectively, and suggested perhaps he should write to the administrative body that ran the exams to see if he could review the potions theory questions from the previous year like some muggle teachers did. He quickly decided that was an excellent suggestion. He could even offer to write additional question stems for the examination himself if he decided the current rubric was inadequate. He was not sure what exactly was the process for that kind of thing, but it shouldn't be hard to figure out. Minerva would know.

He was even composing the letter to the Department for Magical Education in his head when Petunia's next question popped up. Any news about your mother? -P

His improving mood soured again. She asked at least once per week, and he was not sure how to get her to stop without seeming rude. The fact he was reluctant to be rude probably meant some part of him appreciated the question, he acknowledged. He normally had zero compunction against incivility around anyone but the Dark Lord himself, and then only for self-preservation. No change. We had a better day than usual on Sunday, because all we did was play cards rather than talk about anything important -S It had been a day of insight as to why Severus hadn't noticed her illness earlier; Eileen was good at faking being fine when she was permitted to ignore her problems. Of course, her biggest problem was her entire personal life, so it was impossible or at least distinctly unhealthy to ignore most of the time.

This must be so difficult for you. If there's  anything  you need, please let me know. I feel bad that you're always the one offering to help when you have so much more on your plate than I do, really. -P

Thank you for your concern, Petunia. I can honestly say though that this journal is my respite from everything else. -S

There was a long pause. I will take your word for it. I will also give you permission, should something happen that you need a bit more of a respite than a few minutes' writing in a journal, you may visit me and the boys without planning ahead of time. With due caution, of course. I might complain about them, but I still find the children to be the best comfort in the world when I'm sad or stressed about anything other than them -P

Her open invitation was not something Severus was expecting, not for a long while at least, and he was genuinely touched at the thoughtfulness. But he was also suspicious of it, somehow. Minerva and Albus were both acting differently now they knew his mother was sick, tiptoeing around as if he were some delicate flower the moment he became mildly annoyed with either of them. Being treated as fragile was more annoying than anything else, though, so he did not know why they bothered. He definitely did not want Petunia to start doing the same. He did not want an... artificial relationship with her and her family. That would be almost as bad as being thrown out on his ear again. Are you sure? -S

Of course I'm sure, weirdo! -P

His threatening tears vanished in a snort of laughter. Just checking you weren't being impersonated or something. I humbly offer my sincere gratitude for your generosity. Thank you for your kindness, Petunia -S

---

Severus loathed grading mid- and end-of-term examinations, particularly given how eye-openingly bad half the grades were proving to be. But he would have given anything to keep doing it that Saturday morning in December, the first day of the winter holidays. Instead, Albus appeared quite suddenly in his quarters, burning into existence via phoenix travel. "We are needed at St. Mungo's," the headmaster said gravely, extending a hand. His heart in his mouth, Severus took the hand wordlessly, and they disappeared in flames.

When the flames dissipated, Severus found himself staring instead at a wall of gray smoke. At first, he did not understand what he was seeing, until the smoke suddenly darted away from the large hall-facing window of Eileen's room. The smoke was her Obscurus, ripping the room apart. Eileen herself was sitting on the floor in the middle of the destruction, eyes wide and rolled back in her head. "Former headmistress Dilys Derwent has a portrait here," Albus explained rapidly. "Dilys alerted me the attack started about ten minutes ago, now. The healers have no way to safely calm her down, and she's shown no signs of stopping on her own."

"What can we do?" Severus asked.

"You need to ground her."

"How?"

"I will shield you, and you will talk to her. Talk to her about happier, quieter, calmer times. Try to make her remember the love in her own life."

"That's the best advice you have?"

"Yes."

So, do the impossible. If happy, loving times existed for the Snape family, Severus did not remember them. He did not tell that to Albus, though, only nodded tightly.

Albus raised his wand. "Protego maxima."

White-faced Healer Valerian opened the door for them and a passage in the shield charms encasing the room, and closed both behind them. As soon as they fully entered the room, the Obscurus threw itself against Albus' shield. The smoke was merely dust, as it happened, dust that blew around the dome of the shield, but the Obscurus continued to hammer against them, invisible, and silent but for the bell-like reverberations of the Protego maxima. Albus took his shoulder reassuringly and guided him over to Eileen.

Severus sank to his knees in front of her. "Mother, it's Severus. I'm here..." Now what? Eileen did not move. The Obscurus rang against their dome again. He edged closer and folded his arms around her. "Mother, you're safe. You can let it go. You can just be here with me."

The Obscurus struck from above, and Albus' shield scored a perfect circle in the floor around them with the blow. "Love, Severus, remember?"

"Mother... you can stop this. I'm here. I'm here for you. I love you." Ugh, the simple phrase sounded so hollow, even to his ears! He couldn't remember the last time he had actually said that to his mother. The Obscurus seemed to agree, plastering the dome with debris in its fury. Now they crouched in utter blackness. Severus hugged Eileen tighter. He was not equipped to help her. He knew he wasn't.

Albus suddenly clapped a hand down, almost poking Severus in the eye in the darkness. "Eileen," he said urgently, "Your son is here, and let me tell you, he is a son to be proud of. He has walked through every disadvantage with his head held high to become one of the bravest, most intelligent, and most thoughtful people I know. He's not very good at telling you that, and he's not very good at telling you that he cares, but he does. He cares about you so much. Come back to us, Eileen. You should see him!"

The Obscurus blasted the dome again, knocking all the detritus away and bringing back the light. The blow also threw Albus off-balance. "Severus, try again," he said calmly.

"Mum..." Eileen jerked in his arms. She gasped and started crying, wrapping her own shaking arms around him. Albus lowered his shield, and Severus felt a hot wind rush past him, the parasite back into its host.

Albus tactfully stayed silent. He turned and fogged up the window where the healers were waiting, giving the Snapes some modicum of privacy. Severus just kept rocking his mother. He didn't know what else to do.

When Eileen's sobs turned to deep breathing and hiccoughs, Severus looked back up at Albus. The headmaster's expression was unreadable when he said, "You're going to need practice."

Notes:

I find it amusing to write Severus' artistic criticisms of child doodling. Rest assured it will continue at every opportunity. I find it sad but true to character to make him so bad at expressing himself emotionally to most people.

Chapter 14: Aberforth

They spent long hours at St. Mungo's, Albus leading a round-table discussion on possible new treatment options, Severus holding Eileen's hand and trying to soothe her as the healers worked around them putting the room back together. Albus also sent his phoenix Fawkes into the room to sing to her. Unexpectedly, though this initially did ease her panic, she then became angry again because she viewed the phoenix song as an attempt to enchant her. She refused any and all magical treatment for the rest of the day, so Severus instead sat through a lengthy counseling session with Valerian and another healer relying solely on muggle psychological techniques, which Severus viewed basically as forms of refined manipulation against Eileen's currently illogical brain. Towards evening, Eileen grew remorseful for being so stubborn and accepted a Draught of Peace, only if Severus himself brewed it. It was finally ready an hour before midnight, but even after that, she was still so afraid of having another attack or of one of the healers using "crazy charms" on her, Severus agreed to spend the night with her.

Severus slept exceedingly poorly on a hastily transfigured mattress on the floor of Eileen's hospital room. He hated the feeling of being watched through the hall window just as much as his mother did; he had never slept well in the Hogwarts hospital wing as a student either. As a result, he was both tired and depressed the next morning. Albus returned after breakfast to collect him, in case his leaving set Eileen off again.

"Severus, join me for a drink," the headmaster said as soon as they returned to the icy streets of Hogsmead.

Severus looked at him incredulously. "It is noon on a Sunday, Albus." He did not want to socialize.

Albus, apparently, did. "You can have butterbeer. Even the first year Gryffindors have trouble getting drunk on that."

"I can't have tea? Alone in my rooms while grading tests?"

"Humor me."

"Fine."

Albus led him down the main street not to the Three Broomsticks but rather to the older and dingier Hogs Head Inn. As soon as they entered the empty taproom, Albus flipped the sign to read "closed." Severus raised his eyebrows, and the barman scowled. "Stealing my business, are you now?"

"Of course not. I'd just like to book the room for a private event for the next hour, Aberforth."

"I need two weeks' advance notice on that kind of thing," the barman grumbled.

"I'll pay three times your usual rate."

"I don't take charity."

"Why on earth do you want to book the place at all, Albus?" Severus cut in witheringly. Offices were perfectly suitable places for private conversation, if that's all Albus wanted.

"I thought the three of us should have a little chat."

"Why do you want me to talk to him?" Severus and Aberforth asked simultaneously, then looked at eachother suspiciously.

"Because you're both related to Obscurials."

Severus almost choked, he was so angry that Albus would reveal his private affairs to a stranger so casually. Aberforth just sighed and started lifting dusty bottles up from under the bar. He popped off the lids and brought the three bottles around to one of the tables, where Albus happily joined him. Severus reluctantly sat as well. Aberforth studied him. "I've seen you before, haven't I?"

Severus grabbed one of the bottles and wiped some of the dust off of it. Ginger beer, not butterbeer. "You threw me out of the building once about four years ago and told me never to come back," he said shortly.

"Really? What were you doing?"

"Eavesdropping outside someone else's room."

Aberforth's eyes narrowed. "Was it a woman, or was that war-related?"

Both. Albus answered for him, though. "It is in the past, and irrelevant. I will introduce you again. Aberforth, this is Severus Snape. He is a good man and has been teaching potions at the school for two-and-a-half years. Severus, this is my brother, Aberforth Dumbledore."

Severus was momentarily stunned. He had not known Albus had a brother. In fact, the entire concept of Albus Dumbledore and a family life felt wrong and alien, as if it were more natural for Albus to have simply sprung into existence as an old man. There was definitely a family resemblance once he looked for it though, with their matching blue eyes, long noses, and voluminous grey beards obscuring much of the facial structure. Aberforth was shorter, his nose was straight instead of crooked, and his lips were thinner, but truly the main difference was in their carriage. The wrinkles in Aberforth's face reflected a lifetime's worth of perpetual scowling. And his dress matched his bar: drab shades of grey, not a hint of Albus' flamboyancy. Aberforth grunted at the introduction. "Severus Snape, eh? I read about you in the papers a few years ago. Albus' prized double-agent. He wouldn't tell anyone your name at the time, of course, not until Crouch heard about you from the other side and made noises about arresting you. Then he had to make a public statement." He took a swig from his own bottle. "'Course, only half the population actually believed you were Albus' double agent."

Severus looked back and forth between the two Dumbledores. He decided not to comment on his own history. "There's an Obscurial in your family?" he asked.

Albus nodded sadly and looked at Aberforth. "Do you mind, Abe?" The barman waved his hand carelessly. "Our sister, Ariana, after a group of muggle boys caught her performing accidental magic when she was six and attacked her. And... Aberforth's son, Aurelius." Severus was doubly shocked to learn there were two of them.

"Credence," Aberforth corrected.

"Who was tragically lost to the family as an infant and ended up being raised in an American muggle orphanage run by a very conservative, very anti-witchcraft religious cult. His case became more public than Ariana's when Grindelwald found him in America. He was the one Healer Valerian mentioned to you."

Aberforth's eyes widened, and he stared at Severus. "Valerian's a mind healer. I've met him. He's young. You have a family member being treated for an Obscurus right now?" He suddenly rounded on Albus. "You were supposed to stop this kind of thing from happening, definitely not in magical Britain! You promised!" Severus winced at Aberforth's tone. He was sorry Albus had dragged up all this pain.

"Eileen's case is different," Albus said calmly.

"They're all different, you fool, but you told me you had figured it out."

"Clearly, I was wrong. And Eileen's case is more different than usual."

Aberforth snorted. "Yeah? How?"

Albus looked to Severus. At least he was asking permission before spilling all of Severus' secrets. But the cat was out of the bag now. "Eileen is my mother," Severus answered.

"No. You're a professor for going on three years, so you're at least twenty-one! Even Credence didn't make it that long! And if you tell me she had you at age twelve or something, I shall be sick."

Severus grimaced in disgust and shook his head. "I assure you, this is a recent development, just this year. That's what's different."

Aberforth looked back at Albus. "And you're sure an Obscurus is..."

"I'm sure, Abe."

Aberforth shook his head sadly. "I won't question that I suppose. Merlin knows what we don't about Obscurials. I'm sorry, lad."

"This case raises the old question, Aberforth," Albus said urgently. Aberforth rolled his eyes. "It's unprecedented in an adult! There must be something we're missing..."

"What question?" Severus asked softly.

"The question of heritance," Aberforth said caustically. "Obscurials are rare ever since the International Statute of Secrecy. Two in one family? Unheard of. He thought there must be some kind of predisposition in our blood rather than mere bad luck. He researched it with that Scamander fellow for years before giving it up as a dead end and turning to social interventions. He even talked me into digging up our mother's body to get tissue samples..." he shook his head and glared at his brother.

"It was a hypothesis I could not ignore. And later, well, it seemed social interventions would work," Albus said. "If we could only get wizarding children all the way through their magical development, then the risk was gone. Clearly, that is not the case. From what I can glean from the old records about Eileen's family life when she was a student, and from questioning her myself to the extent she was willing to talk to me, it appears childhood trauma is neither necessary nor sufficient to produce an Obscurial. I am back to square one. And now... did you know that in 1977, muggles devised a way to actually read the cellular codes of inheritance? From what I've read in their scientific journals, if we have samples from Eileen as a patient, you as an unrelated carrier, and Severus and I as potential carriers, a few more donors whose blood should be clean... then we have the ability to answer the question!"

Severus felt like Albus had just hit a bludger into his stomach. He suddenly decided he actually did prefer Albus tiptoe around his feelings right now, no matter how annoying it got.

Aberforth's expression grew thunderous. "Albus, you prick, did you really bring the poor boy here, while his mother is dying, to talk him into researching the process with you?"

"Not just that," Albus said defensively.

"Go away," Severus muttered, face flaming.

"Severus, I-"

"He said 'go away,' so leave!" Aberforth commanded. Albus opened his mouth to protest further. Aberforth drew his wand. "Don't make me throw you out."

Albus threw up his hands. "Very well. Severus, if you have taken offense, I sincerely apologize. I trust I will see you at dinner?" Severus nodded. Albus frowned and left.

Aberforth grunted and muttered "Good riddance" under his breath. "Can I get you something stronger, son?" Severus shook his head. He had made that mistake once. He was not going to do it again. Aberforth leaned back in his chair and took another swig from his own bottle. "Sorry about him. He's always been like that, ever so nice but completely clueless when it comes to quality emotional support. I think that's why he likes children. Less complex emotions, so he can fake it easier by smiling and saying weird, confusing nonsense to distract them from whatever upset them. Of course, that means if it's serious, their parents or someone else still have to talk through the real problem later."

Severus snorted. That was an apt characterization of Albus, only mildly unfair. "I'm sorry we ruined your day too, not just mine."

Aberforth shrugged. "At least I have a customer. You'd be surprised how often I don't, with Rosmerta in town." He grinned. "To be honest, I'd pick the Three Broomsticks if I was going out, too. Bigger, newer, successful enough to be cleaner, with a pretty thirty-something running the place rather than a crusty and bitter old man. And she brews some good stuff. I've still got the older, more interesting cellar, though. Oh, and don't worry, I'll make Albus pick up the tab, not you, since it was his idea..." he trailed off. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"Not really."

"I don't blame you. It's awful when it's happening to someone you care about. You feel so helpless, like your only purpose is to weather the storm well enough to help put them back together again. It was bad enough with Ariana. It was so much worse with Credence."

"Because he was your son?" Severus asked despite himself.

"I suppose. I never had a chance to be his father though. I was still in school when he was born. His mum was a teenager too, and her parents were furious. They decided to move the whole family to America. I didn't fight them, didn't fight to keep him. They were mixed-bloods, so they took a boat. The boat sank, and everyone thought little Aurelius sank with it."

"Aurelius?"

"That's what we named him. It's not the name he knew, though. And then he grew up in a hateful, American, muggle orphanage. By the time he came to Albus' attention, he was already an Obscurial, and one of the most powerful ones on record." He hung his head. "I finally met him again, just before he died. He made it to twenty-six, amazingly. We had a few months to get to know eachother. I said it was worse than Ariana because Credence was so alone before then. It was hard to grow up with Ariana in the house, but we were still able to love her and take care of her. Credence did not have that for most of his life. I cared about him of course but didn't really love him at the end either, because we never had the time to bond as more than invalid and carer. I failed him so much worse."

Tears suddenly pricked in Severus' eyes. "I didn't realize how alone my mother was until this happened," he said shakily. "Do you think..."

Aberforth tapped the table. "Hey. This is not your fault. How old are you? Twenty-five?"

"Twenty-three."

"Same thing. You're young, barely an adult even if you are a teacher. That's not an insult to you, just a statement of fact. I don't care how smart you are, how many N.E.W.T.s you got, how mature you are for your age, hell, how many Death Eaters you might have killed in the war... there was no reason for you to expect and watch for something that is totally unprecedented."

"What if she was traumatized, when she was young? Not by muggles, but by magic?"

"What do you mean?"

"Her whole family disowned her when she married my father. A muggle."

"Was she twelve at the time?"

Severus blinked. "Obviously not. I think she was... twenty-five? Twenty-six?"

"Older than you," Aberforth observed. "So that doesn't count as Albus' vaunted childhood trauma theory, does it?"

"No... and she was fine magically before, even if she was unhappy. Right up until my father's murder during the war."

"Oof. Sorry for that too. That's what kicked it off?"

"She wasn't the same after."

"Sorry."

"I should have done something sooner."

Aberforth shrugged. "Maybe. Maybe getting her to the healers would have helped. And maybe it wouldn't have made a difference. Maybe Albus is right and there's some kind of familial predisposition just waiting for a sufficiently horrible trigger. I repeat, no matter what, this is not your fault."

Severus scowled. "Maybe not, but it sure feels like it is."

Aberforth's eyes crinkled. "I know. That's why Credence was worse. I still can only rarely bring myself to even look at his likeness."

They both drank ginger beer in silence for awhile. "What happens next?" Severus asked eventually.

"You mean, how does it progress?"

Severus nodded. "Her first Obscurus manifestation was in mid-November. She had another yesterday."

"And you said your father died during the war?"

Severus nodded. "1981."

"That's fast. Faster than Ariana. She stopped exhibiting accidental magic immediately, but then went three, almost four years before her first Obscurus attack at age nine, didn't have another for almost a year. She was fourteen when she died, would have lasted longer if it weren't for Albus' stupid romance with Gellert." Severus half-choked on his ginger beer and quickly decided never to mention that little tidbit to Albus. Not only was Albus, er, bent, but with Gellert Grindelwald?! Aberforth continued blithely, "Credence we don't know as much about, but he was in that orphanage from age one and never even remembered performing any normal accidental magic. He didn't manifest his Obscurus until his late teens, and he thought he was going insane and hallucinating through each episode at first. Everyone thought that was old. Ariana's course was much more typical. Anyway... the attacks will come more frequently and more violently. They'll last longer. She might learn to summon them at will, but ultimately they'll become harder for her to bring back under control. The Obscurus will gain a visible form. Her physical body will grow ill as the Obscurus grows in strength. The only way I know to slow down the attacks is for her to increase her use of ordinary magic, although I'm not sure if that slows down the progression itself. Ariana's last years were more peaceful, once I taught her a couple harmless, wandless charms. Credence did better that way too, he thought."

"Doesn't matter. She won't do any spells," Severus commented bitterly.

"She won't?"

"She deliberately stopped... almost two years ago, now." That was when she destroyed her wand, anyway. "That's the main thing we think triggered it all."

"Well... I'm sorry, again. Albus also thought it was possible to slow progression with enough love and emotional support, but he based that theory on Ariana, and Credence' story threw that theory out the window in my opinion, since his was the most prolonged case in history."

Severus sneered. "He said I needed practice. Guess I know why." Aberforth raised his eyebrows, but Severus shook his head. He did not care to explain. "Thanks for telling me."

"Albus didn't?" Severus shook his head again. "Typical. He probably thought it was so horrible you wouldn't want to know. But of course you would! There's another piece of advice for you. If Albus is on her case, he'll keep fighting for her until the end, and he'll try to be optimistic until the end. You can bet everyone else will follow his lead. If it comes to it, don't be afraid to put your foot down."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean he would have taken Ariana on his post-graduation world-tour, pretending like she was fine, and he would have experimented on her with Gellert if I had let him. Would have experimented on Credence with Scamander, too, but Scamander thought it was better to just let him come home with me at that point, he was so ill. 'Fixing things' is Albus' way of helping, because he's brilliant and thinks he can solve any problem if he tries hard enough. But he forgets that he's playing with real people." He gestured expansively. "Let him try to help, absolutely. If anyone can come up with a miracle, he can. But if you and your mum decide whatever he comes up with is futile and causing more distress than anything else, you tell Albus to piss off. I'll back you up."

Severus' lips quirked. "Thank you, I suppose." There was another pause, until Severus said. "She's at St. Mungo's. Since before the first attack."

"I sort of guessed that. You weren't wrong to take her there. St. Mungo's wasn't a good option for Ariana or Credence."

"Why not?" Severus asked curiously.

"Mostly because we knew what it was right away and that it was terminal, so made the family decision to care at home. But also, the original building was much smaller and got badly damaged in the Great War... I mean muggle World War I.. by muggle bombs - wizards didn't know much about those yet, you see. Rebuilding was delayed for decades, first by bureaucracy, then by the Blitz and issues with Grindelwald's British supporters, with the healers operating out of the Ministry and Diagon Alley in the interim. The current department store location was acquired and converted semi-emergently towards the end of Grindelwald's War to deal with the spell-damage victims. Anyway, your mum's probably stuck there for the duration, one way or another. They won't want to let her leave."

"I know. And it wouldn't be feasible. I can't take care of her here, nor would her home be safe, even if I resigned my post. It's in a muggle neighborhood." And they'd have no income.

"Huh. Never realized I was one of the lucky ones when it came to taking care of Obscurials. They can be very resource-intensive." It wasn't funny, but Severus snickered anyway. He tipped back his ginger beer again, only to realize it was empty. "Another? Or something else?" Aberforth offered.

Severus shook his head. "No. I should get back to Hogwarts. Thank you very much for talking to me, though."

Aberforth nodded. "You're welcome. And you are welcome to come back any time. I rescind my previous order banning you from the premises."

"Ah, my quest was successful, then."

Aberforth snorted and stood up. "I'm a sucker for sob stories alright. Don't let Albus bully you."

"If he tries, I'll hex him. Or tell him you will."

"And it would even be true, if I heard about it. And I mean it about coming back any time. I don't really go anywhere. I was much more hands-on with both Ariana and Credence than Albus was. I'd be happy to give you some pointers; I imagine that was his other motivation for introducing us, the prat."

Severus nodded, but he didn't really feel like troubleshooting his miserable attempt to relate to his mother at the moment. "I'll keep that in mind."

Fortunately, Aberforth wasn't one to press the point. "Goodbye, Severus."

Notes:

Sanger DNA sequencing was invented in 1977. Even if there were a genetic predisposition towards developing an Obscurus, Albus is probably wrong that they would have been able to figure it out in 1983, though. Process was still too slow, and who's to say they wouldn't accidently start identifying predisposition-to-being-a-wizard genes instead?

I'm only intending to flirt with the edges of the Fantastic Beasts story lines, and only as relevant. There's far too much inconsistency and frankly bad plotting for me to ever want to deal with most of that lore directly, methinks.

Chapter 15: The Greener Grass

"How come we shop for Christmas? Doesn' Santa Cause do dat?" Dudley asked while Petunia was slowly looking for a parking place in the crowded lot. Shopping centers in Surrey proper were always busier than the smaller ones nearer home. She frowned slightly, vaguely annoyed both children had picked up the American name for Father Christmas this year, a consequence of watching one too many Hollywood-produced Christmas movies no doubt.

"Silly, Santa on'y bing some of presents. An' coal if we're bad. 'Member Uncle Sev brought the football set hisself?" Harry sounded quite pleased with his logic.

"Yeah..." Dudley said thoughtfully.

"Unless," Harry continued, now markedly more excited, "unless Uncle Sev is Santa!"

Petunia grinned and tried not to laugh.

"You're silly! Santa's old. An' has a white beard. He's Father Christmas, like gran-father, not like uncle," Dudley said almost contemptuously. Petunia thought his expressivity was rather impressive for a three-and-a-half-year-old.

"He cuh be in disguise," Harry reasoned. "They sell Santa beards an' hats at Tesco."

With such irrefutable logic, Dudley was convinced. "I s'pose... Mum, is Uncle Sev Santa?"

Petunia chuckled. "I'm afraid not. You were right the first time, Harry. Father Christmas gets some of your presents, but the rest of them come from family. And Father Christmas is really very busy just getting gifts for all the children in the world, so usually presents for adults are just from family and friends. In fact, we're getting some presents for Uncle Sev and Aunt Marge today."

"Oh, wow!"

"We get present too today?"

"No, dear, I couldn't bring you two Christmas shopping for yourselves, could I, or it wouldn't be a surprise."

"Oh, yeah."

"Buh it isn't surpise because we made lisss for Santa..."

"Just so. Those lists weren't for me, they were for Father Christmas. He may or may not decide to give you what's on your list, depending on whether you've been naughty or nice. Everything from your family, though, that's up to them, not your list."

"Ohh..."

She pulled into a parking place. "Though I might have let Marge and Sev know what was on the lists, just in case."

The two boys thought this over quietly as Petunia got out of the car and extracted them from the back seat. With one on either side, she strode into the art and craft shop, the first stop on her agenda. There was the usual conundrum just inside the door. "Alright, boys, I can't keep holding onto both of you and the shopping basket." Both of them squeezed her hands tighter, each determined to win the honor of continuing to hold onto her. Petunia made the decision for them before they could start arguing about it. "Dudley, you stay there. Harry, you're going to have to take Dudley's hand."

"Awww..."

"That means you get to help me pick things up and put them in the basket with your free hand." Harry immediately perked up as Dudley glowered. "And we'll switch at the next store."

..."Okay," they both grudgingly agreed.

They shuffled around, and Petunia took up a shopping basket in her left hand. "Alright. Candles first, for Marge and for Mrs. Hanson."

"Can get one for Ms. Figg too?" Harry asked.

Petunia debated internally for a moment before nodding. By the sounds of things, Harry had had a great time yesterday playing with the kittens in Arabella's house while Petunia and Vernon took Dudley up to his grandparents in London. The whole arrangement had worked out well. Harry and Arabella were now firm friends. Dudley had a great time being the undisputed center of attention for a whole day. Win-win. Of course, Petunia was only recently acquainted with Arabella, was still rather miffed with her, and wouldn't therefore normally be exchanging gifts... but like the sudden incorporation of Severus last year, friendship with her was rather necessary. And she thought candles, incenses, and other air fresheners made excellent gifts for people with too many animals in the house, so long as the vessel was sturdy enough to not be a tipping and thus fire hazard. It was the very reason she always gave Marge candles as well. "We can. And you two can help me pick it out."

"Yay!"

Richer by three candles (vanilla for Marge, cinnamon for Arabella, and peach-scented for Rachel), a box of Christmas crackers, and several packets of glitter Petunia reluctantly agreed the boys could try, they next headed to a book store. And then the liquor store for brandy and wine. And then the artisanal cheese shop to pick up Vernon's order. And finally the butcher shop to pick up the Christmas roast. A man in a burgundy trench coat and an old-fashioned top hat joined them in the line at the butcher shop and kept widening his eyes and grinning toothily at the children. Both boys watched him and giggled the entire time they were waiting at the counter. She couldn't decide if it was sinister or if he was really just trying to make silly faces for their amusement. Regardless, she bundled them out of there as quickly as possible and watched over her shoulder and in the rear view mirror to make sure the man didn't come out of the shop and follow them down the road. He did not.

And so Christmas shopping was done for another year. Upon their return home, she set both the boys to making Christmas cards while she put the roast away, wrapped these last few presents, and attended to the Christmas pudding. Her mother had always "fed" the pudding a measure of brandy once a week leading up to Christmas to keep it from drying out, and so Petunia did the same. She had never been cursed with a dry pudding as a result.

That done, she decided it was really time to finish decorating the Christmas tree. Vernon had taken the boys to pick up the tree on Saturday, as was proper being the start of the third week of Advent, but they had only gotten around to draping the lights that evening. All the ornaments were still safely in their boxes, as Dudley had been too irritable on Sunday to risk the antique glass. Today was a good day though.

"Dudley, Harry, would you like to help me decorate the tree?" she called.

"I'm not done wi' my cards," Dudley immediately complained.

"That's alright. Let's decorate now, and you can finish up while I make dinner. That way the tree is all pretty by the time Daddy gets home." Vernon wasn't particularly enthralled with the decorating process in any case, and he would be particularly uninterested after taking the bus to and from work today so that Petunia would have the car for her errands. "We really need to get it done soon - remember Auntie Marge is coming on Wednesday this year."

"Okay," they both chorused then and traipsed into the parlor a moment later.

"Thank you, now who wants to water the tree before we get started?"

"Me!" Harry cried and ran back to the kitchen.

"Do you need help?" Petunia called after him. Both boys could reach the sink with the aid of a little stool, but trees sucked up rather a lot of water, and the watering can was heavy when it was full.

"No," Harry answered. She decided to let him try to carry it by himself. It was only water, after all, and the container was metal. She opened ornament boxes with Dudley until Harry returned, staggering slightly with his arms wrapped around the watering can.

"Here, I'll hold that while you crawl under the tree, and then I can hand it to you."

Harry gratefully let her take the watering can. He crouched down by the tree and tentatively reached out a hand under the lowest branches. "It's pokey," he muttered. He touched the needles again, winced, then determinedly pushed forwards anyway. Obligingly, the branches bent out of his way. That was a convenient bit of accidental magic, Petunia had to admit. She rather disliked getting poked by Christmas trees as well. Once he reached the stand, Petunia passed the can to him, and a minute later he backed out from under the tree, holding up the empty can triumphantly.

"Thank you, Harry, good job," Petunia said approvingly. She pinched a blob of sap off the ends of his hair with her handkerchief before he had the chance to rub it into his scalp and cause worse tangling than usual. She then blotted the cloth with the last few drips from the watering can to wipe his hands as well. She definitely didn't want sticky fingers all over the ornaments. They were hard to clean. "Alright, what color shall we start with?"

"Red!" Harry said emphatically.

"Gold!" Dudley said.

"We'll do both."

One by one, Petunia handed the largest and sturdiest of the ornaments off for each boy to hang around the tree. They could only reach about half-way up, though. She did not particularly want her mother's best ornaments to break, so she handled those herself to place them nearer the top of the tree, although she allowed Dudley and Harry to offer suggestions regarding optimal placement of each. Once all the ornaments were up, she opened up a box of candy canes to complete the assemblage. By the mid-afternoon, they had quite a splendid tree indeed.

"We should save the star for Uncle Vernon," Harry said when Petunia opened its box.

"Yeah, Daddy should put up the star," Dudley enthused.

"What a lovely idea," Petunia agreed and set the thing down again. "Alright. Let's go have some tea and biscuits, shall we? And then it's naptime. You can finish your cards after nap-naps."

"Yes!"

It was a lovely, ordinary, traditional day, Petunia thought contentedly while pouring out her tea. She resolved to write to Severus later. There was not much to say, but that was rather the point. There did not need to be anything extraordinary for it to be worth sharing, if it made the poor man happier for awhile. He had yet to take her up on her offer of an impromptu visit.

As it happened, when Petunia sat down with Severus' journal late that evening, she wrote something quite specific after all. Remind me never to purchase glitter for them ever again. That was an unmitigated disaster. -P

Notes:

some undiluted fluff for you. :)

Chapter 16: Last Christmas

It was entirely possible this would be Severus' last Christmas with his mother, so he did not stay at Hogwarts for it. Rather, he brewed a large batch of calming draft on Christmas Eve, decanted out individual portions as requisite presents for each of the staff, and on Christmas Day took the rest of it to St. Mungo's, along with two servings of Hogwarts feast foods fetched straight from the kitchens. He made a detour to Spinner's End on the way to pick up an extra set of gobstones.

He would visit Harry and Petunia on Boxing Day.

Annoyingly, there was a trainee healer he did not know minding Eileen's private ward when he arrived. He seemed dead-set on ruining Eileen's possibly last Christmas, too.

"We do not accept potions here brewed outside of the hospital's own pharmakopoiea," he said judgmentally of Severus' calming draft. "And gobstones are on the list of prohibited items for this patient." He smiled toothily.

Severus fixed him with his most vicious glare. He waited for a time until the man started to visibly sweat before answering, "If you had read her file, you would be aware this patient refuses to consume any elixirs of any kind, except those produced by my hand. Severus Snape. Potions Master of Hogwarts."

The healer quickly grabbed the chart and hid his face behind it for several minutes. His voice had risen by nearly an octave when he started speaking again. "Ah... yes Professor, I see it does say that, here. Yes, I suppose that is in order, then. I will have to send a sample down to the pharmakopoiea for verification before any can be administered."

Severus slowly leaned and twisted to look through the glass into his mother's room. She was sitting quietly, watching the muggle foot-traffic through the outside window. She was perfectly calm at the moment. Severus looked back at the healer, who now appeared to have shrunk several centimeters. The cringing and voice change allowed Severus to recognize him, finally. The healer had been a seventh-year N.E.W.T. student the year Severus had started teaching. The name escaped him; Chance something? He decided not to mention that. "Acceptable," he said softly. He set the heavy flask on the desk. "Notify me when the verification is complete. I expect it will take less than two hours."

"Right."

Severus turned.

"B-but the gobstones, er, they're still prohibited, sir. It says here she tried to shove them down someone's throat."

"Then I suggest, if you go in there, you keep your mouth shut. For safety." He ignored any further protestations and entered his mother's room.

She did not look up when he closed the door. He crossed the room and sat down next to her, setting the two plates of food on the small table between them. "Happy Christmas, Mother," he said.

She blinked and looked at him then. "Is it?" He nodded. She had been tired and frequently disoriented ever since the attack earlier this month. Partly, that was because he had continued to brew variations of the calming draft for her every weekend, to help her sleep if nothing else. Valerian had also tried some new mind treatments Albus helped design. Eileen smiled slightly. "Then Happy Christmas, Severus. I'm afraid I don't have a present for you this year. They don't let me out of here to go shopping."

"That's alright." He wasn't sure if she was trying to be funny with that statement, but she usually wasn't. He gestured to the covered plates. "Your other gift is being inspected by your nervous security guard out there, but we can start with these."

Eileen slowly reached out and lifted the lid of the plate nearest her. Her smile broadened. She actually looked somewhat happy, for the first time since Severus had forced her into the hospital. Perhaps they would have a good day today. "From Hogwarts?" she asked. He nodded. "I never stayed for Christmas when I was in school, but I was always told it was wonderful. Certainly, every other feast was."

Severus forced a grin. "It will at least be better than hospital food."

"That's for certain."

He took the box of gobstones back out of his pocket and handed them over to her. "For after dinner."

She frowned. "They'll probably just steal them from me again."

Severus shook his head. "I won't let them."

She raised her eyebrows. "They have rules here. All kinds of rules."

"I don't care."

She smiled again, ruefully. "That's my boy. Let's eat."

The food was delicious, of course. Eileen particularly loved the Brussels sprouts and parsnips, saying the hospital always reduced vegetables to mush. That was a common problem when healing magic was concentrated in one place too close to a kitchen. Curiously, Severus recalled Tobias voicing the same complaint when he was admitted to a muggle hospital once after a work accident, so maybe it had to do with concentrations of illness, both magical and mundane, rather than of cures. For himself, Severus preferred the turkey. And the Holiday blancmange, of course, which he had specifically requested of the delighted and accommodating Hogwarts house elves. The conversation was light throughout the meal, if a little one-sided. Eileen became markedly more talkative after drinking the small vial of peppermint Schnapps Severus had sneaked in for her. It had exactly three drops of Pepperup added to it, which was an elixir that fortunately maintained its nature unchanged when mixed with alcohol. He had decided the risk of giving an Obscurial a mild stimulant was worth it if it brought her some joy. As he had hoped, the peppermint liquor disguised the taste of the potion perfectly. As she slowly mellowed, Severus told her stories from this term, and his discovery on the mid term examinations that he would have to add some remedial materials into the upper class curricula. Eileen was not sympathetic, either to him or to his students.

"Not everyone's so damned logical as you, Severus, you know that. Slughorn isn't. Eleven-year-olds definitely aren't. You putting actual theory of potions in the first- and second- years might turn out some truly excellent potioneers, but I bet it's boring most of them to tears.

"Which is why Slughorn put it off until he'd already caught their interest through other means," Severus concluded, nodding thoughtfully. The observation was cynical, but surprisingly logical. He didn't think he could stomach teaching only "recipes" and proper slicing and dicing techniques for two years before introducing any of the underlying magical theory though.

"Still, that idiot boy clearly never read any of his textbooks, or he would have known not to falsify ingredients even without you telling him," Eileen mused. "How many points did you dock?"

"Fifty each." She nodded. He could not tell if she approved or not. Severus leaned back, still thinking of her earlier comment. It was the crux of his problem as a teacher. He found his subject innately fascinating; his students did not. He found their innate lack of interest incredibly frustrating, and he had no idea how to create enthusiasm out of nothing. He should probably stop focusing on work for the day, though. He was here to savor the dwindling quality time with his mother that remained.

"Round of gobstones?"

"I did bring them for a reason."

Eileen smiled, grabbed the box, and moved to the floor. She patted her pockets and frowned. "I'm out of chalk," she muttered. Rather than simply drawing the ring with his wand, since the visible magic might derail her good mood, he silently conjured some chalk inside the pocket of his robes and handed that to her. "Perfect." She crawled around on the ground to make a sizeable circle, then laid the chalk aside and started setting up the game, humming to herself.

Severus played the first round with his usual disinterest, so Eileen won easily. She did not chide him for his lack of effort. She was used to beating him. The door opened while she was resetting the game, and the healer crept inside with Severus' batch of calming potion. Severus gestured subtly to the spell-locked and shielded cabinet in the corner. He would inform his mother of the draught when he left. She didn't need it right this moment, but she needed to know it was there and from him in order to trust its origins when she next required it. When the healer was gone again, Severus asked, "Mother, how did you and my father meet? If I ever heard the story, I don't think I remember it." He was curious mostly because Albus had been hounding him about ways they could engage with Eileen's more positive emotions. Severus, unfortunately, did not have much experience with that.

She looked up at him, surprised. "We must have told you, surely?" Severus shrugged again. Eileen smiled reminiscently. "I was just recently graduated. I was looking through shops in muggle London - muggles have been coming up with so many more board games in this century alone, I had hopes of finding some candidates I could adapt and market, maybe through Diagon Alley. Anyway, Tobias happened to be in the same shop as me at the same time and approached me. We talked for a little while, and he asked if I wanted to go to a movie with him." Her smile widened. "He was tall and very... athletic-looking even then, doing manual work you know, and I had never been to a muggle theater, so I said yes. It was just a discount theater, not even a shilling to get in. I never thought anything would come of it, of course. I thought it would be a fun novelty for the afternoon, but at the end of the film, which was a romance, he kissed me, right there in the theater."

"On your very first date?" Severus asked, surprised. That seemed abrupt to him.

She nodded. "I wasn't expecting it. I thought about slapping him, but he didn't do anything more than that. And he was just so suave. He held my hand when we left the theater and asked to see me again. Well, after such an... exciting time, I couldn't really say no, could I?"

Severus could have. Easily. He did not contest her claim, though. She had been a teenager with a new infatuation. And that infatuation had lasted, and intensified over seven years to the point she willfully left her family for Tobias. What she had had with him had been real, at some point, even if Severus had never really appreciated it.

"I miss him so much. I know you and he didn't see eye-to-eye..." Severus fought to control his sneer. That was putting it mildly. "But, well, it was just very hard for him. We weren't ready for you, not really. He worked so much, never at a job that paid enough. And he was always secretly worried one of my cousins would... do what they did." Her eyes were misting. "I wanted to have more babies," she whispered.

"You did?" He had never heard her express such a thing before. The possibility of a sibling had never seemed realistic to him, even as a very young child. His parents fought too much.

"I did. But you displayed your magic so early, I think it frightened him. He wanted me to take that muggle birth control. I refused, and he went out and got some muggle operation without telling me to stop us from getting pregnant. I was so angry at him for that. I don't think I ever hexed him before, not until he came back and told me what he'd done." Severus was very much regretting this conversation, now. Surely she didn't mean Tobias had himself castrated? No... he definitely would have remembered that from when he took care of the body. He didn't know what she was talking about, and he did not want to. "It was a Transmogrifian curse. I thought he was going to leave me after that. But he didn't. No matter how difficult I was, he never left us."

"No, he never did," Severus said diplomatically, even though he might have preferred it if Tobias Snape had abandoned the family at some point, rather than taking his frustrations out with his fists. Then he realized what she had said and had to recoil as he suddenly remembered the night she was talking about. The Transmogrifian Torture was very dark magic. The incantation Transmigure parsmortus was evocative of its effects, as it caused parts of the body to putrefy. This in turn caused intense pain, not to mention terror and distress in the victim. There was no traditional counter-curse, merely healing charms and potions, which could be more or less successful depending on how long the curse was applied and the degree of damage... Severus had been three at the time and gotten a good eye- and nose-full of Tobias' red, swollen, and pus-filled hands before his father had forcefully kicked him out of the room and slammed the door behind him. That was not the only time Eileen had used that particular curse, either, just the first and most savage time, and the only time Severus had not understood what was happening. He was fluent in the incantation and wand movements long before he actually obtained a wand, which was both strange and alarming to him now he was entering his third year as a teacher. Merlin...he had rarely thought about his parents' marriage from Tobias' perspective before, but it was clear the abuse went both ways. The muggle man would have been at a distinct disadvantage against a pureblood Slytherin wife. It was a wonder their family hadn't killed eachother before the wizarding war. He could count himself extremely lucky his mother had never turned her wand on him.

Eileen smiled weakly, perhaps recognizing how uncomfortable the conversation was getting for him. Her smiled faded, her eyes darkening and lowering to the floor. Her cheek twitched, or rather it was not twitching but vibrating with the corrupted magic stirring inside her.

"Mother... don't. Please."

She blinked and looked up at him again, back to normal, thank Merlin. He breathed a sigh of relief. She turned back to the gobstones game, flicking her next stone with great deliberation. They said nothing about what had almost happened. "How about you, dear?"

"How about me what?"

"Are you stepping out with anybody? Will I ever have grandchildren?"

Oh, and this topic was so much better. "I'm not seeing anyone, no."

"Why not? Are you even trying?"

"Not particularly. The last woman who expressed interest of that kind did so in such a way I can quite do without." That woman was Marge Dursley. Regretfully, she would be present tomorrow.

Her eyes narrowed. "You're not still hung up on that Evans girl, are you?"

"No, and she was only a friend."

"Could have fooled me."

Severus rolled his eyes. "Well, pardon me for not actively hunting down a mother for your grandchildren for you."

Eileen's expression soured. "It's a bad world out there, boy. You should give me grandchildren while you still can. Give the one who came on to you a chance."

Severus sighed. "Trust me, you don't want her for a daughter-in-law. What about quasi-grand-nephews? Would that satisfy you?" She raised one questioning eyebrow. Severus grinned and started regaling her with his friend Patricia's (Petunia's) latest anecdotes of his pseudo-nephews, Daryl and Hudson. This subject proved so safe, and so pleasant for both of them, Severus even felt comfortable bringing up Marge again later: he needed advice on what to give her for Christmas that really and truly communicated, "Let's just be friends." Eileen's suggestion was the worst muggle board game she had ever encountered, called Big Funeral. It was both atrociously offensive and poorly designed as a game. They both laughed over it.

Notes:

If you're confused, the operation Tobias Snape had was just a vasectomy. But let Severus stew in his horror over barbaric muggle medical procedures, and the general discomfort with hearing about his parents' marital problems, even long after the fact. Also stew in the realization of actually, he was exposed to far more than "light hexes" as a child. The Marauders' observation that Severus was "up to his eyeballs in dark magic" the moment he arrived at Hogwarts was completely accurate, but Severus did not have that same perspective because for him, that was just normal: Dark=defensive magic.

I googled "worst board game ever," and found an actual game called Big Funeral from 1964 on the list. Too hilarious not to include.

Chapter 17: The Best Boxing Day

It was not snowing in Scotland when Severus left the castle, for a change. It was snowing in Surrey, though, big, fat flakes. The snow covered the pavement and crunched under his feet. It was warmer this far south, at least, nor was the snow particularly deep for one used to winters in the Scottish highlands. When Severus turned onto Privet Drive, it was to find the Dursley family out in their front yard. Vernon was shoveling the walk while Petunia and the boys built a snowman, which was nearly complete. Marge stood under an umbrella, juggling her dog's leash and a camera.

"Bus still running then, Joseph?" Marge called as soon as she spotted him. "We thought you might be late."

"The main roads are clear," he answered untruthfully.

"Uncle Sev!"

Both boys abandoned their snowman and ran to greet him. Unfortunately, this time when they slammed into his legs, he slipped on the icy walk and toppled backwards. Fortunately, it was a soft landing into a pile of snow Vernon or possibly some neighbor had previously shoveled. He even managed not to drop his boxes onto the heads of the two three-year-olds. Marge whooped in laughter.

"Boys! Come back here at once!" Petunia shouted, though she also sounded amused.

The children climbed off of him. "Sorry," Harry said, his giggling belying his apology.

"Just don't tackle me next time, lad." Severus said.

"Can help?" Harry asked, holding his arms out and waggling them at the parcels Severus was still holding. Dudley instantly mimicked him. Merlin, that was cute.

"Here." He handed Harry and Dudley their presents. "These are for you anyway."

Dudley gasped. "Can open it?"

"Not yet, but you can help me by taking it inside."

"Boys!" Petunia called again, starting to march towards them.

"Coming!" they chorused and scampered away towards her with their prizes.

By that point, Vernon had set down his shovel and made his way over. "Need a hand?" he grunted.

"Do you mind taking these for a moment?"

"Not at all. Happy Christmas." Vernon hefted the remaining presents and stepped back. Severus climbed to his feet and brushed the snow off himself. He groaned inwardly when he felt just how wet and sticky this snow was. He was going to be sitting around in damp clothes for hours now and couldn't even use a drying charm with Marge here. He retrieved his fallen hat, accepted the presents back from Vernon and followed the family into the house. Reminiscent of last year, after they had all stripped off coats and gloves and settled in the parlor, Petunia served shortbread and hot chocolate to warm up before a lunch of cold-cuts from yesterday's dinner. Severus avoided the couch the instant he saw Marge heading towards it and instead chose a chair.

Even with all the excitement of Christmas Eve and Christmas Day in the past, Dudley proved just as impatient to open Severus' gift this year as he had a year ago. Severus was rather inclined to make him wait, but his parents and Marge decided to indulge him, so it was decided to open presents before eating. Marge continued taking pictures as they did. She was determined to fully document every present each of the boys received, only regretting her home video camera had broken when one of her dogs got ahold of it. This camera was a type Severus had not seen before, that ejected undeveloped photographs as soon as it took them. Marge continually passed them over to Vernon and Petunia to wave in the air, which she explained was part of the development process. She had apparently given an identical camera to Petunia yesterday, but they had not yet set that one up.

This year, Severus had picked out coloring books for Harry and Dudley. Harry's was Newt Scamander's My First Fantastic Beasts Coloring Book, which was conveniently limited to the benign and cute varieties. Petunia had pre-approved it. Except for the content, it was entirely ordinary since it was meant for such young children, once Severus confiscated the packet of Developer's Mix Watercolors that would have enabled the drawings to move a little once fully colored. He supplied new crayons from a muggle shop instead. Dudley's book was of characters from one of his favorite cartoons as Petunia had recommended.

Both boys seemed satisfied, eager to show the books to the Dursley adults. Dudley wanted to start coloring his immediately, but Petunia reminded him, "Not yet, sweetums. We have to see what else Uncle Sev brought, and give him his gifts. And then it's lunchtime. After lunch, you can color though. You can show Uncle Sev how well you can stay between the lines."

Fortunately, Dudley agreed with this plan without further argument and settled into Petunia's lap to watch the rest of the gift-giving. Not to be outdone, Harry climbed onto Severus' chair. Severus grinned and carefully reached around him for his other presents. He extended them to each of the Dursleys in turn.

Petunia smiled when she opened hers, another Protean-charmed journal. She raised it up to show the room. "I was thinking just the other day my old one was getting rather full. Thank you very much, Sev."

"You're welcome."

"I didn't know you journaled, Petunia," Marge commented. She snapped one last photo and fanned it in the air before setting the camera down and fiddling with the wrapping paper of her own present.

"I took it up last year."

"And thank you very much for the chocolates," Vernon said. "Marge, you'll have to try one of these. There's some candy shop near Joseph's work that makes some of the best chocolate I've ever had. Same stuff he sent for Dudder's birthday, you know."

Marge reached for the box Vernon offered, took one of the chocolates, and popped it in her mouth. Her eyes widened, and she smacked her lips. "That is good. You know, I thought a single bar of chocolate was a cop-out gift for our little man at the time, but if it was half as good quality as this, clearly I was wrong." She nodded approvingly to Severus. "Discerning taste you have, there." She turned back to her own gift and cackled when the last of the wrapping fell off. "I take it back! Utterly tasteless! Oh, this is too good, though."

"What is it, Marge?" Vernon asked, shooting Severus a glare.

She held up the Big Funeral game box with a broad grin. Severus had found it in a thrift shop in London by means of a modified Point Me spell, after leaving the hospital yesterday. Inconveniently, the shop was of course closed, but he just broke in with magic and left some muggle currency at the register. "Make your friends look cheap. Send them to slob hill in an orange crate coffin," she read from the back of the box. She looked up at Severus and elbowed her brother with glee. "We should play a round later." She chuckled again as she tucked the game between the cushions next to her. Petunia looked quite disapproving, and Vernon's expression was caught between amusement and offense, but Severus just shrugged at them while Marge was distracted. He had not expected her to like the game concept so much, or at all.

"Dudders, why don't you help me bring Uncle Sev's gifts over to him?" Petunia said quickly, nudging him gently towards the small stack that remained under the Christmas tree.

"I help too!" Harry exclaimed, and slid from Severus' lap instantly.

"Cor, I'm losing my marbles. Knew I forgot something. Mine's still in my luggage," Marge grumbled.

"I can fetch it," Petunia assured her.

"Thank you, dear. It's right on top, next to the dog treats."

Petunia returned while Severus was still looking at Harry's and Dudley's cards. They both featured stick figures rather than unidentifiable blobs for the drawings, and this year they had also discovered glitter. Harry had stuck to just red and green glitter, fortunately. The red was streaked haphazardly all across the front of the card, while the green was used to create enormous, lustrous eyes for Harry, Severus, and Petunia. (This despite the fact the green in Severus' eyes was quite subtle and usually missed amongst the deep browns and grays that made the iris and pupil blend together in low lighting.) There was no brown glitter for everyone else, alas, but Harry had instead glued what might be brown sugar or possibly breadcrumbs instead. The effect was surreal, but overall, Severus thought this rather more tasteful than his cousin's use of the medium, which appeared to consist of mixing five colors together and mashing it into a chunky conglomerate with an excessive amount of glue. That did result in an interesting texture, he supposed. Petunia had written the Happy Christmas messages again, but this time, each child had attempted to sign his own name, in large, clumsy, capital letters. Severus smugly decided Harry's attempt was slightly more legible, although he presumed that was most likely because the letter D was so relatively difficult to draw. Dudley's looked like he had signed "OUOLEX."

He set the cards aside and accepted a thin package, which the tag proclaimed to be from Petunia. As he did, he quickly looked at her eyes more closely. He knew they weren't Lily's and Harry's brilliant green and had thought they were hazel... Yes, they were, in fact with even more brown than his. Harry was uncommonly sensitive to any greenness, perhaps, looking for himself in his aunt and "uncle" while otherwise surrounded by big-boned, blond-haired, plain-brown-eyed Dursleys. Or maybe he just hadn't come up with the bread crumb solution yet when devising Petunia's glitter eyes. Petunia likely wouldn't let him pick up soot from the road to use for Severus' darker eyes either.

Severus chuckled softly when he got around to unwrapping the gift. It was another journal, but an ordinary one, obviously. He opened the cover to find a note reading,

Dear Severus,

Thank you for helping make our year easier, especially since I know this has been a difficult time for you. Although you are of course welcome to talk to me, I thought you might like a means to express yourself  in secret . I won't even be offended if you end up tearing out each page of this journal and burning it as soon as you've written on it. Or writing in invisible ink like Lily used to. Whatever helps your strange, strange heart.

Welcome to the family, and Happy Christmas.

Best,

Petunia

He felt himself smiling despite the backhandedness of her message. It was very her. "Thank you, Petunia."

She grinned, almost wickedly. "Well, I've enjoyed journaling so much this last year, I thought I should spread the joy. It would do you good."

"I'm sure it would," he agreed.

The next gift was a sampling of smoked meats and cheeses from Vernon. "Can never go wrong with these," Vernon said lovingly. "Serve 'em up with some bread or just some digestive biscuits. Good stuff."

"Good for a night in," Marge agreed. "Go on, open the last one, Joseph."

Severus obediently unwrapped the last small but surprisingly heavy, cylindrical package, the one from Marge. It proved to be a tub of hair gel. Severus had never used muggle hair gel, but he was fairly confident it was for making hair more rather than less greasy, so he was somewhat confused. "It's the same brand John Travolta uses," Marge announced proudly. Indeed, the container proclaimed the same. Pity he had no idea who John Travolta was.

"I will be interested to try it," Severus said lightly. "Thank you, Marge." He probably would not use it as intended, but it might be amusing to see what would happen if he added small amounts of this substance into certain potions. The ingredients list had quite a few random chemical terms he had never encountered before.

"Right, loo then lunch," Marge said, climbing to her feet.

"I will just be a few minutes in the kitchen," Petunia said happily.

The two women had abandoned them before Severus even realized. Harry promptly took Severus' gifts from him and set them on the floor next to the chair, making room for himself to climb back onto Severus' lap. Dudley took the opportunity to beg a piece of chocolate from his father. "Just one, so we don't spoil your lunch," Vernon agreed. Vernon then looked up at Severus and smiled weakly. "Travolta's her favorite Hollywood actor."

Severus shrugged. "I haven't seen a film in over a decade." Not since before he started school at Hogwarts.

"So... you don't know who he is, then?"

"Not a clue."

Vernon's nose started turning pink, his usual danger sign, Severus recognized. He rummaged in the magazine rack next to the couch for a moment, then flipped through the glossy pages of the issue he was looking for and wordlessly extended it. Severus accepted it with a raised eyebrow and looked at the picture of a... tall, dark-haired actor. Oh, Merlin. He realized in horror the man had vaguely similar hair style to his own, if wavier. Fortunately, his eyes were plain blue, his facial structure was very, very different, and this man certainly had many, many more well-developed muscles. Severus flipped the page. The picture of Travolta mugging for the camera in a film called Grease was even more disturbing, reminding him somewhat of Tobias as he had appeared in his parents' old wedding photo Eileen kept in her bedroom. He resolved never to wear short sleeves in Marge's presence, ever. Not that he ever wore short sleeves with the Dark Mark anyway, but he had even more of a reason now.

He offered the magazine back to Vernon. "Thank you for the information."

"I'll try to restrict her brandy and keep her on-track," Vernon offered quietly.

"Thank you for that as well... I'm probably still going to be stuck playing a round of Big Funeral later, though, won't I?"

Vernon's mustache twitched. "Well, that one's on you. I understand why you chose something so odd to give her, though. We can be thankful it wasn't the Game of Life."

"Why? I never played that one."

"Because the primary goal is to get married and have kids."

Severus blushed. "Ah."

"Rubbish game, too."

Severus decided a change in subject was definitely in order. He looked down at Harry, who was turning the pages of his coloring book. "How about you, then, Harry? Are you excited to start morning school next month?"

Harry looked up at him with eyes shining with enthusiasm. "Yeah! I got new rug-sack for Christmas, too!"

"Did you? What color?"

"Gween."

Severus smirked despite himself. "Good choice."

"An' I got blue," Dudley added quickly. "My has a train on it."

"That's good. Does yours have a train too, Harry?"

He shook his head. "No, buh has Bambi."

"What's Bambi?" Severus asked.

"Baby deer."

"A fawn?" he asked in surprise. That was a little on-the-nose, considering Lily's patronus had been a doe.

"It's a Disney character," Vernon supplied. "A movie about forest animals centered around a young deer. It's not new, but they played it again at the discount theater a few months ago, so we took the boys to see it." He smiled. "Happily, that's one Disney film with very little singing."

"Got it. Maybe you can show your rucksack to me later, Harry."

Harry nodded happily. "An' I can show my colo-wing."

Severus nodded gravely. "Indeed. I'm looking forward to that."

"Piers and Wobin are at pwe-school too," Dudley informed him.

"Who are they?" Severus asked.

"Friends from park. We play wif them on sweens. Piers is a boy, and Wobin is a ghoul," Harry answered.

"You mean a girl?"

"Uh-huh. A ghoul." The resolute mispronunciation was adorable.

"Did you know I teach at a school?" Severus asked.

Harry's eyes widened. "You'll be at school?"

"No, I won't be at your school. But I do teach at a school, for older kids. Maybe when you get older, you'll go there, and I'll get to teach you."

"Yeah!" Harry enthused, bouncing up and down. He almost fell off, and Severus stabilized him.

"Me too!" Dudley cried.

"Maybe so," Severus agreed, subtly shaking his head as Vernon frowned to forestall a parental correction. Dudley was unlikely to develop any attachment to the idea of going to Hogwarts based on one off-hand comment at a Christmas he would barely remember in a few months.

"Wazzat one?" Harry asked suddenly, pointing at a page in his coloring book.

Severus read the caption for him. "Demiguise. Demguises are peaceful herbivores found in Far East Asia and resemble a cross between an ape and a sloth. One of the unique things about them is that they can make themselves invisible and have the ability to see the most likely events in the immediate future."

"Wow... Wazzat one?" He pointed to the next drawing. They were in alphabetical order, Severus noted. Dudley trotted over and stood on his tiptoes to look too.

"Diricawl. Also called a Dodo, they are thought by..." He probably should not teach Harry the word muggle yet. Vernon would be annoyed. "...many to be extinct, but in reality, the Diricawl has the ability to disappear and reappear elsewhere as a means of escaping danger."

"Cool." Harry fumbled to turn the page but was interrupted.

"Lunchtime!" Petunia trilled.

"Yay!" Dudley crowed and ran to the other room.

The rest of the day went smoothly. Marge drank only one, very large, glass of wine at lunch, saying it was too early in the day for more than that anyway. After the meal, Harry and Dudley showed off their new rucksacks, followed by a large stack of artwork. Ultimately, Severus agreed with Petunia; most of the drawings were virtually identical. He liked the large sheet with their first glitter experiments, though. There were various abstract spills of glue and glitter, but they had evidently ended up with both substances on their hands as well, leaving sparkling, smudgy handprints all over the pages. He imagined this would be the last work of that kind for awhile, as Petunia complained she kept finding patches of the same mixture of glitter and glue all over the house, even a week later, despite her best, most obsessive cleaning efforts.

Next, Petunia sat with the boys while they colored in their newest books, while Vernon, Marge and, reluctantly, Severus settled into a game of Big Funeral. Marge and Vernon had a distinct advantage at first, as the game was apparently not all that dissimilar to some more standard muggle card games, however Severus somehow managed to win at the end after taking the jackpot round with the most expensive mausoleum in the game.

Severus declined another round, with the excuse that with the snow continuing to fall, he would need to catch the earlier bus. The truth was that all this socializing was exhausting. Petunia thought surely he would have time for a snowball fight in the backyard with his nephews before sunset, which was around 4pm today. To that, Severus had to agree, since it was not yet three o'clock. He and Harry squared off against Vernon and Dudley, first making a little fortress (big enough to shield Harry but not Severus), then lobbing little clumps of snow at each other. Petunia called encouragement from the sidelines, Marge took more pictures, and Marge's dog Joey raced between the two camps, chasing flying snowballs. By the time Harry and Dudley got tired, Severus' hair and neck were wet with melting snow again, his face was red, his fingers were growing numb, and he was panting with unaccustomed exertion and laughter. Petunia persuaded him to hold still for one last photo, this time with just him and the boys. She tucked the developed print inside the journal she had given him, a final memento of the day.

Petunia and Vernon both clapped him on the shoulders before packing him off with his presents. When he looked back from the corner, he could still just see Harry and Dudley waving from the window on either side of the Christmas tree. He disapparated to Hogsmead as soon as he reached the shadows of the tall hedgerow near the bus stop. Altogether, he mused on the way back to the castle, this had been one of his best Christmases yet, despite spending actual Christmas Day in the hospital.

---

Upon his return to Hogwarts, Severus finally got around to opening the gifts he had received from the rest of the staff. At the top of the pile was Sybil's annual card: Beware the Ides of April. Happy Christmas, Sybil. Severus tossed that one in the bin immediately. Harry's and Dudley's were better.

This year, Albus' knitwear included horrible yellow socks and matching scarf. There was the standard assortment of biscuits, chocolate, tea, a few potions ingredients, and from Argus cauldron cleaner. Irma apparently had no updates to the Potions section of the library to wrap around her candy cane. Rubeus had contributed a tin of what appeared to be fossilized crumpets. He wondered what he had done to offend the usually affable Groundskeeper, who seemed to hate him as much as Sybil when it came to Christmas gifts. The stone confections went in the bin as well. He decided to keep the tin they came in.

Petrus contributed a small antique cauldron of real silver, something Severus had never been able to afford himself despite the significant advantages for temperamental brews. According to his note, which Severus could barely make out through the cramped and shaky handwriting,

Dear Severus,

A cauldron so small as this requires younger eyes and steadier hands to measure out those infernally tiny quantities of ingredients. This one also deserves an owner who can actually use and appreciate it, and I'm sorry to inform you my own son and grandson both earned D's in their potions O.W.L.s to my eternal shame.

-Petrus

It took a few minutes to stow away the gifts, returning his chambers to their usual order. And yet, despite using a drying charm and stoking his fire as soon as he returned, he was still cold. Someone knocked on his door while Severus was brewing himself a cup of Bathsheda's tea in hopes of finally warming up his hands again. "Come in."

"Severus, Happy Christmas!" Albus said with a huge smile as soon as he let himself in. "We missed you yesterday. Where were you?"

"St. Mungo's."

Albus nodded. "Of course. How was Eileen?"

"Calm. Happy to see me."

"That's wonderful. Hopefully, that continues beyond the holiday. And today...?" His blue eyes glittered knowingly.

"Little Whinging," Severus confirmed.

"And how was that visit?" Rather than answering, Severus pulled Petunia's journal back off the shelf and extracted the photo she had taken of him, Harry and Dudley. He wordlessly handed it over to Albus, who studied it for a long time. Finally, the headmaster looked at him, his smile far broader now than it had been when he first arrived. "I am happy for you, Severus. I don't think I've ever seen you so happy as you appear in this."

"Nonsense," Severus scoffed, even though he knew Albus was probably correct. He carefully tucked the photo back into the journal cover when Albus gave it back to him. Later, he would figure out a better way to preserve, protect, and conceal it. He hesitated, then asked in his most deliberately casual tone, "Do you want to see the cards the children made for me as well?"

Albus beamed at him.

Notes:

"Ides" is a historical term for the middle of the Roman month, so the 15th of March, May, July, or October, but then the 13th of any other month.

I confess I don't know that many 1970s-80s era celebrities, particularly ones that Marge Dursley might conceivably have fancied. The list becomes even shorter when looking for ones that might have born a superficial resemblance to Severus Snape, so John Travolta it is. I imagine Marge would have been more a fan of his celebrity and photoshoot appearances than of his actual movies, but whatever. The comparison to Snape is mostly Marge embellishing in her mind, obviously, since they really don't look much alike except for coloring and height.

Chapter 18: They Say It's Your Birthday!

Happy early birthday, Severus! We have a present for you but no idea how to deliver it. Any ideas? -P

How big is it? -S

Smaller than a bread bin -P

Strange metaphor there. Sounds like it's small enough for owl post. I can send you a note this evening, and you can send it back via return-post. Just make sure it's wrapped in brown paper with only my name on the outside. I can ask the owl to wait for you -S

Alright. I hope I'm awake when it arrives! Are you doing anything special for your birthday? -P

Does curriculum revision count? -S

Probably not, unless it's particularly riveting -P

It is not. Actually, I find myself hopelessly stuck -S

Really? What on? It sounded like you had a lot of ideas for the remedial stuff when we were talking about it before. -P

I'm working on the first year now. My mother pointed out to me that even though the theory is foundational and fascinating to me, eleven-year-olds doubtless find it inherently boring. So I'm trying to rework it to make it more  exciting  without sacrificing the critical teaching points. The problem I'm facing is I don't actually know what the students might enjoy -S

Well, what did you like about potions when you were eleven? -P

Theory and the satisfaction of producing a perfect brew. I was an unusual child -S

It's only January, and that might be the understatement of the year -P

Very funny -S

I might be able to help you out, though. We had a little get-together with Rachel for the New Year. My neighbor, you know. Her daughter Emma, who is 11, was there going on and on about her school, which she's incidentally been enjoying a lot more since the parents divorced and they're being civilized with eachother again. Anyway, I'm thinking your theory stuff is sort of akin to teaching things like the scientific method, and at the party I asked Emma what she thought of her classes and teachers. Turns out, science is her favorite class, and she had a lot to say about it. The funny thing was, she would go on and on about the activities in the class but never really what they were supposed to learn from the activities -P

My nightmare exactly -S

But  when I asked her questions related to the experiments, like why she could use either baking soda or Mentos candy to make a 'volcano,' she was able to figure it out and answer correctly. I commented to Rachel about it, and she said kids that age just learn by doing -P

I really don't think they do, not theory, or my upper year classes wouldn't be in their current pickle -S

No silly, what I mean is they learn better with interaction, so you could do the same thing in your classes that Emma's teachers do in theirs. Find 'fun' potions that you can use to illustrate the theoretical principles you're trying to teach. Things you and I would consider useless or disgusting, like especially stinky or dumb party-trick potions are what you're looking for. I know those exist because Lily brought them home with her now and then. She had some horrible poo-smelling concoction she would spray in our parents' bathroom to prank our dad. Kids also like little explosions (Emma was quite clear on that). Maybe you could even conduct some demonstrations of what can go wrong, for instance with enchanting potions ingredients like that one student did, if you pick the right combination of potion and mistake to cause something exciting and flashy to happen but not imminently dangerous -P

That... actually sounds fun -S He would never instruct young students in deliberately mishandling their potions, of course, but tinkering around with beginner-level potions to make them do something unexpected was basically every potions master's hobby. He could have the students guess what would happen for a given mistake, or work backwards and try to deduce what had gone wrong. He frequently assigned that as extra homework for particularly egregious errors, but the students might be more willing to learn if it was something of a game in class. The upper levels would probably enjoy that activity, too. As for the other suggestion, he had no intention of teaching the students anything approaching the horrendous Maximum Turbo Farts draught, but the Hair-Raising Potion was a possibility.

Glad I could help. It is possible to like your job you know, Sev. It is even recommended -P

I do like my job -S

That was a bald-faced lie, and Petunia immediately called him out on it. Could have fooled me, with how much you complain about it -P

Severus hunched over the journal, feeling suddenly glum. Teaching would not have been his chosen vocation if left to his own devices, but he felt stuck with it now because he still needed to maintain his cover and ability to move between both Albus and the likes of Lucius Malfoy. Even if the Dark Lord never returned, he felt a duty to Albus to stay on because his status as a go-between was politically useful as well. And the pay was steady... Petunia started writing again. He took the distraction gratefully.

Now, don't laugh, but I have a non-birthday-related question to ask you today too. The boys are starting preschool tomorrow morning. I've been trying to trim Harry's hair  all day , and it just doesn't work! I comb it down, then I turn around and it's sticking up in the back again. I might have gone a little mad and used Vernon's beard trimmer to shave it all down, just so it would be manageable... and it's grown back in two hours! I don't think he even realizes he's doing anything to his hair, but if he doesn't stop this, there's no way I can get him ready in the morning. Any ideas? -P

Severus did laugh. He laughed hard. It was funnier than it should have been with the ridiculous contrast to his own typical gloomy concerns. When he finally regained control, he had tears in his eyes. He chose to believe they were tears of laughter. He wiped his eyes and wrote back, I'm afraid the wild hair is something you're stuck with. James had the same sartorial affliction, and the grandfather Fleamont Potter even invented the Sleakeazy Hair Potion, presumably for the same reason. Some wizards and witches just look odd as a side effect of their innate magical abilities and can't help it -S

Really? That explains a lot, but begs the question, why is your world so silly? -P

Severus snickered again. It could be worse. Hair could be green. Or he could have horns. Moses (who was a wizard) did -S

The Moses ? Now you're teasing me. -P

Not at all. Ancient Egypt and the ancient Near East were both thriving magical civilizations. Moses is extremely famous amongst wizards, the rogue, fantastically powerful enchanter and first muggle rights' advocate in recorded history. There is much debate as to whether the Egyptian plagues were Moses' work, the results of his duels with the all-magical Egyptian priesthood, or in fact mysterious divine intervention. -S No one wanted to believe Moses actually turned the Nile to blood, summoned swarms of vermin, spread disease, and killed children. That was all far too Dark for most modern wizards and witches to stomach. Everyone agreed he definitely had horns, though. They were included in his portrait in the first ever series of chocolate frog cards, which listed amongst his accomplishments the discoveries of Everlasting Fire (the bush was on fire but did not burn...) and the Abasigga batakh charm for equal division of fluids (used with incredible effect to part the Sea of Reeds, used routinely in decanting potions), conjuration of snakes, and the gift of Parseltongue, although that last was sadly stricken in the revised edition of the cards after the rise of the Dark Lord.

Please don't tell me all world religions are founded on a poor understanding of magic -P

Okay, I won't -S

Today must be a good day for you after all, to be  so annoying  -P

Your being in a tizzy about Harry's unfortunate hair situation made it a good day for me -S

I am not in a tizzy! -P

You said you went mad and shaved his head. That's a tizzy in my book -S

It wasn't shaved. There was still a centimeter -P

You told me not to laugh, but I am laughing -S

Oh, shut up -P

Better quit now, before I taunt you a second time -S

Oh, you're Tim the Enchanter now? When did you watch that film anyway? Vernon said you hadn't been to the theater in over a decade -P

What film? -S

Monty Python and the Holy Grail. It's very stupid. I thought you were referencing it -P

I was not. Isn't Monty Python a television show? -S He remembered hearing the name before, although he had never seen...any television shows, really. His family could never afford a television on Tobias Snape's income, even had they wanted one. Eileen's charms and hexes probably would have fried it in months, regardless, as they had most of the electric lights and all the more complicated gizmos Tobias ever acquired.

Used to be. Lily loved it -P

Must be where I heard of it. You didn't love it, I gather? -S

It was pretty funny, when I was a kid.  No one expects the Spanish Inquisition!  -P

...No, I can't say I was expecting that -S

Oh God, what can I say, it was that kind of humor. Let us never speak of this again -P

And you complain  my  world is silly -S

Severus indeed received a small package in the mail the following morning. Even if he had not recognized the bird, he would have known it was from Petunia, simply because his mother was in hospital and Minerva was the only other person who had given him a birthday present for the past few years (more biscuits; he assumed she kept a stockpile of them, and a checklist with all the staff's birthdays from their personnel files). None of the other staff had ever asked when his birthday was, not even Albus, so he never told them. He pocketed the flat parcel with outward impassivity, yet it seemed to burn against his side all through breakfast and his various classes of the day.

At dinner, he realized there were others who knew it was his birthday: the house elves. They also clearly knew he would not want a fuss, however, so though a slice of birthday cake magically appeared directly on his plate during dessert, including a fragment of the piped birthday message, the rest of the cake was nowhere nearby. He spotted it at the end of the Hufflepuff table, when several students cried "Happy birthday!" to an amazed and delighted first-year girl. He was glad. First-year Hufflepuffs were far better recipients of birthday cakes than either sixth-year Ravenclaws or fourth-year Gryffindors, representatives of whom also had birthdays today (he only knew this coincidentally, not because he cared which students he happened to share a birthday with). The fourth-year boy was annoyingly boisterous in class and had lost his house ten points for the occasion, only narrowly avoiding detention.

Upon his return to his quarters, he finally sat down to open Petunia's gift. Underneath the plain, brown paper he had suggested, the package was also wrapped in a much merrier and more colorful paper, depicting balloons and confetti. And the gift itself was a photo album. Severus' breath caught when he saw the first photograph was of Harry...when he was still a newborn, in Lily's arms. It was a moving, wizarding photo. Lily beamed up at the camera, and little Harry's lips made subtle sucking motion as he slept. The facing page was a similar, though of course motionless, image of Petunia and newborn Dudley. He turned the page, and the next. All the other pictures were taken much later, after Harry had moved to Little Whinging, and probably after Severus' first visit.

Severus' hands were shaking as he searched for the note he knew Petunia must have included. He founded it tucked into the final, empty photo-sleeve.

Dear Severus,

Happy birthday! I hope this can bring you some cheer when you're feeling down and lonely. The first photo is the one Lily sent me the day after Harry was born. I'm ashamed to say I was still holding a grudge then and did not even write back, but I did keep the picture. Since it's one of the weird, moving, wizard ones, I'd like you to keep it for Harry until he's older. I was always nervous about having something so blatantly magical in the house anyways, even after I started locking it inside the journal instead of the bottom of my socks drawer. Don't worry, I took a picture of it for myself with the camera Marge gave me for Christmas, so I still have something to show to Harry.

Best wishes for today,

Petunia and Vernon

The photo sleeve also contained some kind of pre-printed pamphlet from an organization called the British Standards Institute and two more hand-made cards from Harry and Dudley. Like their Christmas cards, these were decorated with stick figures, this time floating in clouds of abstract color, without the glitter. This time, Dudley's color selections won out, all greens and blues in contrast to Harry's riot of what must be every single color in the crayon box. Both signatures were legible, barely. Smiling, Severus returned to the front of the album and slowly flipped through. He lingered on the photos of this past Christmas. He got up to retrieve his own picture from that day to add at the end. Finally, he picked up the British Standards Institute pamphlet. A second note fell out of it.

Sev,

I was recently forced to attend a conference on standardization and quality improvement in engineering and production. Curse of being in management. I thought it was fair boring, but some of the talks reminded me of what you were complaining about on and off with having to rework your classes. They're all problems with process optimization, after all. Since you're the kind of chap who actually  likes  reading advice out of books for things most people just muddle through, thought I'd pass this along. The BSI mostly just does quality standards for almost all industry sectors, which I know won't be that relevant, but I thought the conceptual overview in this would give you an idea of what's available. I could track down literature for you about quality improvement in general or about the moves the government is making to standardize regular schooling. Busybodies just can't resist sticking their noses in! Anyway, let me know if you want to look through any of the other papers and books they dumped on me before I just throw them out.

Happy birthday,

Vernon

Curious now, Severus flipped through the ten-page pamphlet. It was full of odd phrases like "benchmarks," "organizational resilience," and "compliance navigation" that did not really mean anything to him out of context. Then again, Vernon was management. Severus' father had been labor. They were as different worlds as magic and muggle. There may be some useful ideas, but no doubt he would actually have to sit down and talk to Vernon for awhile before understanding what if anything would be helpful. The most likely point of overlap would be if he did decide to take concerns to the O.W.L. board, since bureaucracy functioned similarly everywhere, he mused.

He replaced the cards and pamphlet in the back of the album and closed it. Impervius, he cast silently, then Occultare Insipidus, disguising the album as an Uninteresting Textbook to any but himself, so long as it remained on a shelf where it could blend in. Finally, he cast Collorialibrus, to stick the pages together. The basic locking charm was an easy spell to undo and therefore would only hold against students, but it became much more secure when linked to the passkey charm. The question was what the code should be... he grinned and said out loud "Cryptochronous: Monty Python." The pages crinkled as they unstuck. "Cryptoppositus: I'm out of hellebore." The pages squeezed together again. There were almost no wizards or witches who would have even heard of the opening code, and the locking code would sound perfectly natural as a random thought from a Potions Master. And if he ever forgot, the pages would seal automatically after five minutes' abandonment. He patted the cover, and got up to place the album reverently on the bookshelf in his bedroom. Then he took up the Protean journal instead.

When he opened the journal, he laughed. At the end of his and Petunia's conversation from yesterday, Vernon had written him, I am never going to let my wife forget this! 'On second thought, let's not go to Camelot. It is a silly place.' To think she made me see Life of Brian with Marge instead of coming along -V

Thank you for the album, Petunia. Vernon, if you don't mind, put whatever books and things you have in a box for now rather than pitching them, and I'll look at them next time I'm there. I can't really say whether I'll want them or not -S

Notes:

Moses having horns is a thing in Medieval art, because of a mistranslation of the "light from his face" as "horns from his face." Apparently, it was supposed to be "horns of light," or something, meaning beams of a halo perhaps, but that's not what the artists got lol. Go forth and google the silliness. And then I decided Monty Python could be both the Dursley's secret guilty pleasure, since it's the right era and the show/movies were so popular. Vernon and Marge may be boring, but they have no fear of offense, afterall. The Evans family was originally more accepting of the weird than adult Petunia became.

I made up the fluid division charm based on an online Assyrian dictionary database. The other charms are all actually in the books or at least Latinate

The Beatles' Birthday Song is the best.

Chapter 19: Remedial Potions

Severus skimmed through his revised lesson plan for today's fifth-year Ravenclaw-Hufflepuff class one last time. It still looked half-baked to him, despite the fact the language he would be using for most of the lecture was abstracted directly from his usual first- and second-year potions theory revision curriculum. It would have to do. At least he could count on the Eagle and Badger prefects to give him useful feedback on the lesson if he asked for it, before he rolled it out to the rest of the upper-years later this week. He inhaled, pointed his wand at the door, and unlocked it.

He watched silently as the twenty or so students filed in, ticking their names off on the attendance book. They had all survived the Christmas holidays. Huzzah.

He stood up as soon as the class were all seated and waived his wand to distribute the graded midterm exams. The muttering died instantly. There was a reason he chose this particular group for the experimental lesson.

"Do not attempt to review your entire examination until the end of class. Most of you will have noticed a lower score than you might have previously expected based on quizzes and homework. The reasons for this will become clear if you will turn to page six of the exam, and open chapter two of Magical Drafts and Potions." The class dutifully flipped through to the back of the test, and to the front of their introductory-level textbooks. Severus waited less than a minute for the faster readers amongst them to realize all the answers to this part of the test would be found in the first two chapters of their books. As soon as he saw the first winces on the Ravenclaw faces, he continued, "It came to my attention towards the end of term that I have done you a disservice as your potions master. The questions on this page relate to potions theory rather than practice. This is a subject I would have expected all of you to be perfectly proficient in by now... had I been your teacher during your first and second years at this school. Alas, my predecessor felt theory could be adequately remediated later in the curriculum. As your own O.W.L.s are fast approaching...we will see if he is correct.

He assumed a more typical lecture tone. "Now, potions are predictable! You may have been merely memorizing 'recipes' for the past few years, much to my chagrin, but that is no more the art of potion-making than it is the art of ordinary cooking. We will be reviewing the magical theory of potioneering for the next few weeks. An adequate understanding of these principles allows one to recognize what has gone wrong during a brewing process and determine how to correct it, without the separate instructions I have historically provided you as needed. A poor understanding of these principles is dangerous, either through the production of dangerous reactions during the brewing process or unintentionally dangerous final substances, which you have all of course frequently observed or even produced in this classroom." He paused and offered a slight smile. "A thorough understanding of these principles allows for experimentation with and the invention of completely new potions - safely."

He pointed his wand at the blackboard, and words instantly appeared. "The five theoretical pillars of potioneering are: essence identification, extraction, modification, combination, catalysis, and energization." That had been a question on the test, and only six out of ten Ravenclaw students had listed all five correctly. "Identification involves recognizing both the primary and all the secondary properties of your ingredients, both magical and chemical. Extraction in potioneering means isolating only the desired properties through ingredient preparation, which may be as simple as peeling, slicing, and dicing, or as complicated as a multi-step infusion and distillation. Modifications include chemical reactions such as oxidation and crystallization and certain enchantments. Combination, catalysis, and energization must all be considered in devising the process that brings the disparate essences into one cohesive product that is not merely a disgusting and impotent soup." He paused for a breath. "I am not going to stand here and read your textbook to you. I am not even going to stand here and paraphrase your textbook to you whilst providing snide commentary on its oversimplifications." One of the Hufflepuff boys snickered at that, but Severus ignored him. "Instead, you have an in-class assignment for this two-hour session." More words appeared on the board, this time a short list of ingredients: Lethe River water, valerian sprigs, mistletoe berries, and Standard Ingredient Buffer solution. There were no measures or other instructions. "What potion are we studying today?"

Every single hand in the class shot up. He called on one randomly. "Forgetfulness solution, sir."

"Correct. In what year did you learn this potion?"

The student blushed, unaccountably. "Er... first year."

"Also correct. The potions you all learned in your first years at Hogwarts are chosen because they are simple, without overly many steps or overly dangerous ingredients. They are relatively forgiving of beginner blunders. They are good examples for you to learn the manual skills of a potioneer as well as attention to process and detail. They all function on the same theoretical principles underlying more complex potions, however. I will tell you, there is exactly one way to combine these ingredients, and only these four ingredients, in such a way as to cause the mixture to violently explode." The students' reactions to that revelation were mixed, from mere surprise, to alarm, to continued indifference. "Your task today is to figure out what it is." He cut across the few excited murmurs briskly. "You will not be completing this task through random trial and error. In fact, you will not be brewing the potion at all today. Instead, you will work in groups of two or three to determine the erroneous process theoretically. I want each group to have at least one person from Ravenclaw and one from Hufflepuff. Those who reach the correct answer will earn five House Points each. The one with the most well-reasoned explanation will have the pleasure of assisting me with a small demonstration at the end of class." He flicked his wand again to send the prepared worksheets to all the desks. "Your main resource is of course chapters 1-3 of your textbook. I am the other. If you find the concepts confusing, I encourage you to ask questions. It may be others in the class are wondering the same thing. Particularly good questions may be worth additional points. You have one hour, after which we will discuss each group's response with the class... You may proceed."

The students divided up quickly and amicably, not that he had expected anything else from this assembly. The Slytherin-Gryffindor class was going to be the problem from that aspect. He was not so interested in fostering inter-house cooperation as fostering good discussion, which worked better when not in cognitive echo-chambers. The first quarter hour went quietly, with much quill-scratching, page-turning, and whispered arguments. Severus worked on first-year curricular revision some more while he waited. A Ravenclaw girl, Judith Pertwee was the first to raise her hand.

"Ms. Pertwee."

"Sir, in the section on essence identification, the book says that many properties in potion-making may be inferred from either the name or from the physical properties of the original organism, like aconite also being called wolfsbane and therefore used in the wolfsbane potion, or the same plant looking like a monk's hood and therefore being used in potions to help medieval monks wake up for really early morning prayers...but isn't that reasoning apocryphal? No one nowadays would say the flowers look like monks' hoods, but the Wideye potion still works, and I think I remember reading an ancient Chinese variation of the potion too, where clothing would have been entirely different."

"Excellent question. Two points to Ravenclaw. Yes, the reasoning is circular. The Germanic wolfsbane name for aconite, which itself originated as the Greek word for the same concept, came about precisely because the plant was observed to have unusual effects on even ordinary wolves. Similarly, the stimulatory properties were described before the origin of the English monkshood name. The book is correct insofar as names can be used as mnemonics to remember certain properties of your ingredients, because the names refer to those properties, not the other way around. As a matter of fact, the stimulatory properties have nothing to do with the flower morphology but with their color: the only species of aconite that actually works for the Wideye potion is the one with petals matching the blue of pre-dawn on the day they are picked. Substitutions will mostly produce poisons, which is the most important reason most of you should always purchase your aconite flowers at the apothecary in Diagon Alley or Hogsmeade, not the one in Knockturn. The good news is that even if Master Jigger's explanation of property determination is somewhat vague, his tables of properties at the end of your book are all perfectly accurate, if not 100% comprehensive. As are those in One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi. Most of these properties can be experimentally elucidated with the simple Ingredient Quality Control solution, which is covered in chapter three."

He watched several Ravenclaws flip to that section of the book, and from their expressions could tell Slughorn had never had them brew that particular potion in class. Some may never have even read that section. It wasn't a necessary potion for most people to deal with routinely, since apothecaries all monitored their own stock before selling it, but it was... fundamental. And obviously one the students ignored when left to their own devices. No more questions were immediately forthcoming, so he started making notes himself, both on how this particular class was getting on with the lesson, and how he could improve the understanding in his other classes. He had already put the Ingredient Quality Control solution into the first year coursework when he first started teaching, but he could probably make it more interesting for the students if he had them test it on something like dandelions, whose properties changed dramatically with the maturity of the plants, stage of flowers, and the time of year collected.

By the end of the hour, he had doled out a dozen more points for probing questions, mostly to Ravenclaw but a few to Hufflepuff students. Only two groups figured out how to cause an explosion, since very specific minor errors had to accrue at virtually every step to get it perfectly, rightly wrong. Every group had come up with some kind of interesting effect, however, and the discussion was quite animated as to whether any of these hypothetical error-potions might actually be useful. The winning group Severus determined was the one that not only figured out how to cause the explosion but also identified the "point of no return" after which a useful potion could no longer be salvaged at all. It was part two, step three, after all the measuring had been done.

"Well done, Perkins, Burnett. That is, in fact, precisely the step where I arrested the brew this morning. If one of you feels up to the challenge of salvaging the potion before the end of class, you might earn another ten points. I'll let you decide amongst yourselves who should have that chance, and who shall have the honor of exploding the rest of it."

The two fifth years eyed each other, then Hufflepuff Melody Perkins leaned over to whisper something to Ravenclaw Adam Burnett, who grinned and nodded. "I'll try to save it, sir," Adam said.

Severus nodded. "Good luck. You may use my scales." He wasn't going to make it too easy for the boy by telling him up front how much potion there was; it was the ratios that were important, after all. He brought the cauldron and the mortar out of the cupboard behind his desk and divided both the simmered base solution and the remaining dry ingredients exactly in half, handing part to Adam and part to Melody. Adam immediately descended upon the scales with his half and then scribbled some calculations on a piece of parchment before heading off to the store cabinet. "Ms. Perkins, if you please," Severus drawled.

The Hufflepuff prefect grinned and picked up the mortar. "I still can't believe you're letting me make explosives in class intentionally, Professor," she said. She took two uneven pinches of powder from the mortar and dropped them into the cauldron, flicking her fingers in just such a way as to scatter half the powder on the sides of the cauldron rather than into the liquid ingredients. She took up a glass rod and stirred the potion anti-clockwise six times instead of five, and quite fast, so that when she abruptly stopped stirring with the rod braced against the bottom of the cauldron, the liquid sloshed along the sides unevenly. There was a bubbling sound and a waft of steam. She did not wave her wand next but rather fumbled it from one hand to the other and then flicked it against the side of the cauldron, at which point the entire contents suddenly vaporized. The resultant gas cloud ignited, loudly, brightly, and colorfully, but Severus contained the accompanying pressure wave with a quick "Protego Totallum" before it could do more than knock some papers off the front row of desks.

The class offered some gratifying gasps and short applause. Severus pointed his wand at the contained gas. "Evanesco." It vanished. "If ever any of you do wish to enter the field of experimental potion-making, those two spells will be your best friends, to contain and then vanish unexpectedly dangerous products. They are both covered in the Standard Book of Spells Grade Five, I believe. Thank you, Ms. Perkins. You may return to your seat, and take two points for Hufflepuff for excellent dexterity. It's very difficult to fumble your wand like that intentionally. I expect to see similar proficiency at every class from now on." He slowly turned to look at Adam, who was still bent over the other cauldron. "How are you coming along?"

"I think I've got it, sir." The boy carefully added a few more grains from his own mortar. Severus held his breath and leaned over the cauldron to inspect it. It wasn't half bad. He straightened again.

"Proceed."

Adam was sweating slightly as he started to stir. Anti-clockwise. Twice, thrice... the potion suddenly boiled away. "Tut tut, Mr. Burnett. You would have succeeded if you had added a slow clockwise stir after the second anti-clockwise."

Adam's eyes were glazed over, but they quickly widened and he looked down at his notes. "I- I was going to, sir, and I forgot."

"Yes, because this is a Forgetfulness solution, and in your admirable attempt to fix it, you energized the Lethe river water beyond what is normally called for at this stage. The clockwise stir would have toned it down...but I believe you inhaled some of the vapor."

"Oh... bollocks."

"I'll pretend I didn't hear that. Homework today... same exercise. Two feet of parchment. You may pick the basic potion and off-label effect of your choice. Figure out how to produce the effect and describe your reasoning. If there are multiple ways to produce the same effect, I want at least two of them. You may also defend why an effect is impossible if you so choose. Bonus points will be awarded for picking a unique combination, for devising accurate corrective procedures, and for commentary on how to safely contain damage." A sudden new idea occurred to him, and he added "Also for identification and suggestions for mitigation of process hazards, such as the risk of inhaling Forgetfulness solution as Mr. Burnett kindly demonstrated." He waited a moment as the class copied down the assignment. "Class dismissed. Prefects please stay a moment."

The class broke apart more slowly than usual, as the bell had yet to ring, but they seemed animated rather than put down by the lesson, so that was good. Severus shuffled his notes until the door closed, then looked up at the four lingering prefects, Melody Perkins, Harper Hooper, Doris Zhou, and Paul Harris. He took a deep breath. "I am endeavoring to adjust my curriculum to better meet the students' needs. Today's class was the first attempt, and I would appreciate your honest opinions on how it went."

The four glanced at eachother, clearly surprised. Melody was the first to speak. "Well, sir, I thought it was great." The other three smiled and nodded.

Severus waited a moment, then rolled his eyes. "Thank you for that, however I was hoping for something more specific. Was it effective? Was it interesting? Was it a better or worse use of class time than our usual sessions? Or was it too disorganized? Too complicated?"

Understanding bloomed in their faces. Doris furrowed her brow for a moment, then slowly answered, "I think this was a good exercise for our level, sir. It was a puzzle, but one we knew enough already to figure out in the time provided. If you'd picked a harder potion for the day, it would have been too difficult, even for Ravenclaws. And, well, you're really organized, sir, more than Slughorn was, I think."

"I agree. It was interesting," Harper said. "I never think about potions like we did today. I just concentrate on following the instructions as carefully as possible. Any time you've made me write up a correction for homework after a bad gaffe, I've always had to spend hours in the library looking up potion variations. I've never tried to figure it out just from basic principles and the properties tables before. I'm actually sort of looking forward to doing the homework," he admitted, "even though I'll probably get a 'D' again..."

"Don't sell yourself short," Melody told him encouragingly. Then she frowned. "Professor, is this the same exercise you have the younger years do, too? I really can't imagine doing the whole thing as a first or second year. Are we that far behind where we should be?"

"Not quite. The material is spread over the entire year in my current first-year curriculum, mixed in with the manual skills exercises," Severus explained. "And no, your classes are not 'behind' per se, or no one would have found the solution today. You all have adequate practical experience with potion making that you should all be able to get 'Acceptables' this year. What is lacking is not breadth of knowledge but depth. I want your O.W.L. scores to be based on real understanding of the material, not just rote memorization. Outstandings, not Acceptables." He gestured vaguely. "I know potions are frustrating for a lot of you, even if I don't particularly sympathize with that frustration. I do assign similar exercises to the lower years at times, but my results are mixed depending on student enthusiasm more than anything else. If any of you have ideas on how you would have liked to engage with this material earlier in your training, I'm open to suggestions there as well." He smirked. "I'm also open to suggestions on how to amend the exercise for the Gryffindor-Slytherin sessions."

The four students tittered, but Harper said, "I don't think you should change it. Make them work together like we did. The arguing might even lead to a better understanding of the topic than friendly discussion."

"Ah, the art of the Dialectic," Paul commented with a snigger. Doris giggled.

"What?" Melody asked.

"Socrates," Paul explained, "loved to provoke arguments in order to get his students to actually understand philosophy."

"He was a berk about it, though, and was executed for it," Severus pointed out. "Poisoned." He grinned at Harper's startled look. The muggleborn apparently hadn't expected him to know any ancient muggle history. "You'll learn the antidote in March."

Notes:

Snape's brilliant at potions. Would have been so nice for everyone if he had ever figured out how to communicate that brilliance more effectively. I quite like in the books every time one of his practical exams come along and it's something like the Forgetfulness Solution where the work itself is sabotaging the students. In canon, that's because Snape is a jerk. In this version, that's because safe handling is part of the test, he just failed to point that out to his students until today, because to him that was blindingly obvious. And so, step one of not being a horrible teacher commences.

Chapter 20: Set Them Free

Harry and Dudley took to preschool like fish to water. They were both very sociable boys, after all, and ecstatic to spend time with friends their age almost every day. The fistfights at home stopped overnight, though the boys still screamed at eachother plenty. Dudley even stopped throwing regular tantrums midway through February. The only problem with the preschool that Petunia could see was that the one boy in class the children had already known and befriended before starting, Piers Polkiss, was something of a bully. This wasn't a direct problem, but one that Mrs. Polkiss called Petunia's attention to. Dudley was the biggest boy in the class, which brought a degree of automatic respect from the other children. With the uncanny insight of childhood, Piers had discovered he could use Dudley's friendship to gang up on his sister Robin, who was a year older but shared recesses. Petunia was sure Dudley was being led, but she wasn't sure what to do about it. It was especially confusing given her assumptions that school would help reinforce sibling relationships rather than exacerbate rivalries.

It was a mystery to Petunia why the Polkisses were so antagonistic towards eachother, until Mrs. Polkiss said Piers was mad at Robin because Robin spent so much time playing with their baby sister rather than him. She seemed remarkably unconcerned, just shrugged and said "middle child," wearily, as if that explained everything. At least Harry was left out of this new wrinkle.

Unexpectedly, this was a topic on which Severus proved to be quite opinionated when she mentioned it.

Bullies aren't complicated. The unifying feature is taking pleasure in controlling and dominating other people. Makes them feel powerful, feel better about themselves. They like to use others to get what they want. They find it hard to empathize with or see from other people's perspectives and view weaker kids as prey. They do not accept responsibility, lack foresight, and are unconcerned with consequences of their actions except for the knowledge of punishment from adults. Thus, they wait for the right moment when the adults aren't looking. I'm not surprised Piers would unconsciously view Dudley as a weapon to use in his ongoing war against his sister. He probably doesn't understand that that's what he's doing, no more than Dudley understands he's being used -S

My, my, did I hit a sore spot? -P

It was a disturbingly long time before Severus answered. Yes... I've seen the worst that bullying can do. I think it vitally important we keep Dudley's intentions pure and actions controlled. How close is he with Piers? Could that friendship be ended now, or would that cause more grief? -S

I don't think we have to panic and go all Machiavelli on them just yet, Severus. Fisticuffs amongst toddlers is pretty harmless. -P

Right, and the worst bully I knew in school was a right gentleman as soon as he graduated. Oh, wait, actually no, he was a mass murderer who incidentally betrayed your sister to her death! Silly me -S

Petunia shivered as she read his angry response, but she shook her head. She reminded herself, Severus came from a bad home and a hard life, harder than hers. It was impressive, the more she got to know him, how well-functioning he really was. She probably would have broken down long ago in his shoes. You're the outlier there, Sev. Vernon and I went to much bigger secondary schools than you did, and not a single classmate has murdered anybody, so far as I am aware. Unless you're trying to suggest your folk are all hyper violent and I should give up as a bad job? -P

...Have I ever told you how much I appreciate your perspective, Petunia? -S

No, I don't think you have -P

I really appreciate your perspective. Kids at Hogwarts may be different, but not that different. It was the war that was hyper violent, not the school. It was Black who was a psychopath, not all bullies. James did turn into a right gentleman, for Lily to choose him -S

I'll reserve judgment on that. He wasn't a bad, violent person the few times I met him, but he was quite uncouth to Vernon -P Even as she wrote, her eyes lingered more on the mention of Black rather than James Potter. Sirius Black, she assumed. She'd never met him, but Lily and James had talked about him at the dinner with Petunia and Vernon. The dinner that ended abruptly when James blithely insulted Vernon one too many times... Sirius Black was supposed to be James' best man for the wedding. Ye God. She felt a strange relief she hadn't gone to the wedding and exposed herself and Vernon to such a dangerous and duplicitous individual.

Did you have a plan yet for what to do about Piers and Dudley? It might be relatively harmless now, but bullying could become a mentality that's hard for them to kick even once Piers grows out of his middle-child existential crisis. I'd hate for us to backslide -S

Same as we do for everything, Petunia wrote back with more confidence than she actually felt, grateful for the distraction. Reward good behaviors, punish the bad. The only question in my mind is how to do that exactly. I've told Dudley to be nice to Robin, and he says he is. I think he believes that -P

Well, I suppose you could invite Robin over for a playdate, but not Piers. Might get the point across -S

I like that idea, not sure Mrs. Polkiss would go along with it though -P

Hmm. It would be so much easier if you were the authoritarian dictator of Little Whinging, with all the other housewives to do your bidding -S

Oh, shut it -P

Do it the sneaky way: divide and conquer. Piers goes with a different group of friends while Robin comes to you -S

And what of Harry in your little plan? Is he here or infiltrating the enemy camp? -P

Hey, I'm the one who uses weird and overly adult metaphors for addressing children's issues, not you -S

I thought you deserved a taste of your own medicine. Your turn. Do your worst -P

Very well. He stays at headquarters. The Dursley-Potter alliance remains of paramount importance and must not be suborned by either Polkiss -S

Oh, God, I was joking. Time to change the subject. How are those new classes going? -P

Surprisingly well. I think I understand why Professor Slughorn delayed the theoretical coursework, since the older students do tend to grasp it much faster, but on the other hand, every student I've actually asked for feedback about the revisions, regardless of their grades, agree it would have made things much easier for them in the long run if they had learned the theory sooner -S

And how's your mum? -P

Not well. Christmas was the last good day we had, really. It's up and down. I've been showing her my curriculum adjustments during my visits so we have something neutral to discuss. Sometimes she seems interested, sometimes she gets upset, and sometimes she doesn't even understand what I'm talking about. Sometimes she's - his writing paused for longer than it would take for him to ink the ridiculous feather quills wizards still used for some reason - too sick to talk. I'm hoping this weekend will be better. I finished the new lesson plan for the first years based on her thoughts at Christmas and our subsequent discussion -S

Can you give me an idea, or would I not understand? -P

Oh, this is straightforward. The standard curriculum for first year potions is historically boring: Cure for Boils, Forgetfulness potion, Wiggenweld potion which is another basic cure-all, a general herbicide, an antidote to common poisons, Strength potion, Endurance Enhancer, that kind of thing. In accordance with your suggestions, I'm replacing the herbicide with the Pompion potion, which temporarily causes the head to morph into the shape of a pumpkin, and replacing the Endurance enhancer with the Hair-Raising potion, which does exactly what it says. I've also worked out a way to demonstrate a Cure for Boils that first causes them to grow dramatically, without actually causing significant pain or scarring, just the gross factor to hold their interest while pointing out the theory. Trying to make it more appealing to eleven-year-olds, you know. I have yet to decide if I'll curse my own arm with boils when the time comes or ask for volunteers -S

Is this fun for you, or your worst nightmare? Sounds like it could go either way -P

A bit of both, to be honest. The Pompion potion is so, so useless, but then again, if you do it  wrong  you can cause so, so many peculiar effects. There's a lot to potentially learn from it in that way -S

You could use that one around Halloween and have a competition to customize the potions to see who could make the prettiest or maybe scariest pumpkin head. Assuming that's possible, of course -P

That's not a bad idea, actually. Beyond the first year level in October, but I could have that for second or third years. Should be safe enough if I make them submit their plans ahead of time and supervise the brewing process. I might pick your brain about some other potions, too, especially if Mother decides she doesn't want to talk about it -S

Might as well. I'm turning in for the night now, though -P

Good night -S

---

As the days waxed through winter of 1984, some aspects of Severus' life were going well.

The problem of his mother's health was not.

She withdrew from him further. She grew increasingly dependent on his calming potions, even though none of the properties should have been addictive in the slightest. She had more and more Obscurus attacks, usually in the evenings when she was tired and crabby. As Aberforth had predicted, they became longer and harder for her control, and she became weaker. There were days it was all the healers could do to coax her out of bed. Almost every visit, she accused him of deliberately hurting her, and of trying to get back at her for being a bad mother.

When Severus was summoned to St. Mungo's in the middle of the school day on March 3rd, Eileen was unreachable. He and Albus stood next to her, Severus holding her shoulders and practically yelling in her ear over the great rush of sound and hot air that was her manifest Obscurus. She did not respond to him at all, merely sat rigidly on the floor with her eyes rolled back in her head, her whole body vibrating.

The Obscurus flung out a great limb, a visible one this time, and blasted Severus off his feet even through double shields. His left hand caught in Eileen's robes, and his arm twisted and painfully snapped as he spun into the outside-facing window face-first. The window shattered with his impact. The wards did not, until the Obscurus hammered again on his back, forcing the wards to bulge and thin until his body was forced through. Then he was falling towards the street. He flicked his wand and managed to apparate back into Eileen's disaster of a room. His left arm screamed in agony as it jarred against his side. Blood was running into his eyes from a gash on his forehead and also dripping out of his nose. The Obscurus still raged against Albus' shields, and Severus was not equipped to do anything about it. He knelt and silently recast his own Protego maxima. Carefully, he tested his left arm, relieved he could move his fingers, barely. He cautiously used his right hand to support the left and secured it against his chest, gripping his robes. Then he wiped the blood from his eyes just in time to watch the Obscurus fling itself against his shields again. The impact jarred him, and his injured left arm fell loose again. He gasped in pain. "Mum, you're hurting me!" he said through gritted teeth.

The Obscurus... wailed. It was a strange, unnatural sound like a strong wind through a derelict building that yet bore the echoes of a human voice. It retracted and then cupped itself around his shield, not hitting it but hugging it, almost defensively. The moment Albus moved again, it swarmed over to the older wizard, though, with renewed fury.

"Severus, get out. I'll follow you," Albus said with forced calm. Severus did not need to be told twice. He got up and stumbled half-blindly towards the door. Valerian and the Unspeakable, Broderick Bode, were waiting and ready for him and guided him to a chair as soon as he was past the wards. Severus mopped his face again and looked through the hall window as Albus circled the perimeter of the room. The Obscurus perceived his intent for the door, unfortunately, beating back at him relentlessly but always from the direction of the exit. Severus was puzzled by its seeming intelligent behavior; the Obscurus had never recognized the significance of the door before. Nor had it previously engaged its targets selectively. What was it doing? Did it/Eileen think it was protecting him from Albus somehow? Or was this more animalistic, blocking its only prey from escape?

Albus cast Aguamenti of all things. For the life of him Severus could not figure out why, but he watched as Albus directed the font of conjured water towards the healers' window, followed by another wordless enchantment Severus did not recognize that made the whole window ripple. Whatever else it did, Eileen was soon transfixed, turning to stare at the window and then at Albus, and her Obscurus suddenly vanished into invisibility again. Oddly, although Albus was clearly uninjured, he appeared blind as he felt his way, ducking and weaving, along the wall to the door, which Bode again opened and closed for him. As soon as he had joined them in the hall, Albus blinked, took out what appeared to be a large, antique cigarette lighter, and clicked it. The Obscurus reappeared in a strange flash. It blew about for another minute as a puff of smoke, searching for its enemies, then fell still, floating in the middle of the room like a gentle cloud. Eileen started looking around more, appearing confused rather than angry or afraid, and the Obscurus drifted back into her.

"What did you do?" Severus asked. Valerian he noticed quietly let himself back into Eileen's room now the danger was past. "Ow!" he snarled at the other healer who had taken hold of his left arm. It was the apprentice, the same ex-student of his he had berated over Christmas. The name finally came to him, Chauncey Dunn.

"Sorry, sir! It's broken!" He more carefully straightened the arm and intoned, "Brachium Ermendo!" Severus' arm was encased in a bluish light and cold, liquid sensation. The bones rapidly realigned and mended. It was still sore, but not nearly so painful.

"Thank you, sorry for yelling," he muttered. He flexed his fingers again. They worked. He looked back up at Albus as the healer tended to his face. "What did you do?" Severus repeated.

"A spell of my own devising," Albus said enigmatically. "All it really does practically speaking is spare the room in these kinds of duels, but it disoriented her to cover my escape. And it appears the disorientation also confused and distracted her enough to calm her ire."

"This time," Bode said, watching Eileen through the window. "I doubt the same would work again, unfortunately. She's developing a real dislike of you."

Albus frowned at the device in his hand and stowed it back in his pocket. He nodded and sighed. "She's progressing fast, Severus, for the Obscurus to become visible already. It is not yet blackening, though, so perhaps..." Albus had explained the blackening of an Obscurus was what poisoned them in the end, although Severus was of the opinion Eileen was already well and truly poisoned. Last time he'd talked to Aberforth, he had thought the color of an Obscurus once it was visible was a reflection of the pain the Obscurial was experiencing in the moment, not necessarily the power and stage of the Obscurus itself. He said Albus always brought out the worst in Ariana's Obscurus. Credence's apparently was always black by the time Aberforth met him.

Valerian returned.

"How is she?" Severus asked, ducking out from under the apprentice's wand.

"Weak. Very apologetic. She would like to see you, but I suggest we finish cleaning you up first. I don't think she would respond well to seeing blood smeared all down your face and robes."

"Healer Valerian," Albus interrupted. "I was just telling Severus, this progression is very concerning. We need to treat more aggressively if we are to have any hope of arresting the process, much less reversing it."

"What do you have in mind?" Valerian asked. "We've done everything you've suggested so far."

"Well... nothing we have done has been able to directly confront her trauma, the murder she witnessed and the guilt she feels for it. She isn't able to reason with us because of them. She's barely able to respond to her son because of them. But if we could numb those overwhelming feelings..."

"How?" Severus asked suspiciously.

"Conservatively, a Confundus charm could redirect the guilt, temporarily, so that she would be more able to participate in other therapies. More aggressively, a memory charm or Pensieve could be used to modulate the grief into something more productive."

"I think that would be very dangerous with her state of mind," Valerian said.

"The Department has means to extract, study and modify memory and other thought with great precision," Bode commented. "I would be happy to look into it, and I'm sure the project would be approved. Eileen's Obscurus is the best study candidate we have had in hundreds of years, after all, and with no risk of child endangerment from the research..."

"Thank you, Broderick," Albus agreed.

Severus just stared at Albus and the Unspeakable, amazed at the sheer, brazen gall of them, of their negligent intellect. Albus was grasping at straws, looking for anything that could reign in Eileen's out-of-control mind, since Severus clearly could not do it the old-fashioned way. Bode just wanted data of any kind. It might even work...

But it was so, so wrong. "No."

Albus appeared shocked at the outright refusal. "Severus, we are running out of options, and running out of time," he said pleadingly.

"I know that. But what you suggest would rob her of her free will, her right to feel, her right to grieve for the man she was married to for almost thirty years. You can't just take away the nature of his demise to remedy her guilt, you'd have to take away the fact of it entirely, or target her feelings about it directly. Modifying her memory of her husband, without her consent, and I can tell you, she would not consent... that is no better than an Imperious curse." Severus may have hated Tobias, but he would not let his hatred take away someone else's love. He'd made that mistake before. Never again. "Plus, there's no guarantee it would work, and you'd almost certainly end up giving her permanent brain damage even if you did get the Obscurus under control. She doesn't like it here. She still asks me every visit to let her go home. She certainly doesn't want to live out her days in the Dai Llewellyn long-term care ward as something less than her current self." He met Albus' sad eyes, then Bode's, finally Valerian's.

"If we don't do something different, she will surely die, and soon at this rate," Albus warned.

"If she is to die, then I would have her die with her mind as intact as we can keep it, and as happy as we can make her."

"Are you sure, Severus?" Valerian asked as Bode tactfully bowed his head and stepped back slightly.

"I'm sure." He gesticulated. "She's dying. I'm the one who has to live with it if we decide to experiment on her without her agreement as you suggest. You can ask her if she wants you to try Confunding her, Albus. But not now while she's so afraid of what just happened."

"She'll refuse any suggestion that comes from my lips," Albus said softly.

"And if she says no, her word is final. I won't talk her into it for you because I don't agree. You don't get to ask again when she has another attack. Valerian, keep her safe but give her whatever she wants within reason. I will brew whatever potions you require. I will come to be with her as much as I am able. Just keep her comfortable until the end."

Valerian nodded sadly. Albus bowed his head. "I will not argue with you, Severus. I would ask... will you permit me to collect a blood sample from her? For research purposes, as I had mentioned to you, and Aberforth, before."

Severus treated him to a withering glare. "You can ask her. Not me."

Notes:

Severus might be a little overly paranoid about bullies after dealing with Sirius Black for seven years. His whole world view might just shatter if and when he discovers Sirius didn't betray the Potters.

Albus used the same "Mirror world spell" thing he did whilst dueling Credence - much less impressive from the outside lol. And though Albus is well-intentioned and isn't afraid of death/letting people die when it's their time, he has very little sense of the principle of "patient autonomy" because he's manipulative all of the time anyway, why should end of life be any different? Valerian doesn't see Eileen as capable of making her own decisions in the first place (to be fair, he's right), and to Bode she's more an experimental object than a person, so it is left to Severus to protect Eileen's dignity as best he can.

Chapter 21: The Ides of April

Petunia hummed to herself as she went through her evening ritual of wiping down all the kitchen services. She felt happy, relaxed, and perfectly content. It was April and therefore spring and actually felt like it with the balmy weather. It was Friday. Vernon had taken her out to a lovely candlelit dinner in downtown Surrey, not even for an anniversary or holiday, just for them, which made it special. Arabella had stayed with the boys for the evening, and reported they were well-behaved and already tucked in when Petunia and Vernon returned home at eight-thirty. Little Dudley was already asleep when Petunia looked in, and Harry was just awake enough to smile with his goodnight kiss. It was an entirely blissful end to the day.

Vernon came up behind her and put his hands on her shoulders as she worked. "You had a good time, dear?"

"I had a wonderful time."

"Good."

"I had a wonderful week. In fact, I've had a wonderful month! Do you realize it's been three full months since we had to break up any physical fights?"

"Dudders had scratches just last week, Pet," Vernon reminded her.

"I mean at home. I don't count the scraps with Robin at day school. The teachers aren't even concerned about them, since Dudley actually spends more time playing with Robin than with Piers now."

"Little girlfriend, eh?" Vernon chuckled.

Petunia grinned at his reflection in the window of the microwave oven. "They're hardly old enough for that. Cynthia - Mrs. Polkiss - says Robin has more stamina for the ball games Dudders and Harry like, that's all. Piers has asthma, poor thing." She sighed. "Another year and they'll be in school all day, not just mornings. I don't know what I'll do with myself when they're not here."

"Relax and enjoy the peace?" Vernon suggested, gently rubbing her chronically tight shoulders.

Petunia leaned into his touch for a moment, then turned around and smiled up at him. "I could. Or we could think about having another one..."

Vernon raised his eyebrows. "Is that the idle consideration of just this pleasant evening, or something you've been thinking about for awhile?"

Petunia pondered this. "I've thought about it before, on and off. It wasn't logical, but I resented Harry when he first came to us because I was so busy, so stressed, I felt like he had somehow taken away our chance to grow our own family..." Vernon frowned guiltily, and Petunia hurried on, "which I did most definitely want to do before... everything. I thought about it again this time last year, when things were mostly going well before all the fighting and tantrums became such an issue. Now, well, we're on an even keel again. The boys are turning four this year. It's a good time to think about whether we want another child. I don't want to wait so long that Dudley is too, too much older than a younger sibling that they miss out on getting to be very close in childhood."

Vernon smiled then and leaned forwards to kiss her lightly. "Then let's think about it. I'd like to wait a little longer before we decide, to make sure things are really sorted between Dudley and Harry at the very least. The last thing I want is for them to be causing you all kinds of grief when you're pregnant or caring for a newborn."

Petunia hugged him, leaning her head on his broad shoulder. "Give it a few weeks, and we'll talk then." Vernon kissed the side of her neck then, and she giggled. His mustache always tickled. "I'm almost done down here. You go on upstairs. I'll join you in a bit."

Vernon squeezed her a moment longer, then let go. "Yes, dear."

---

Death Notice: Eileen Helga Snape née Prince passed away on fifteenth of April, 1984 in St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries, after a prolonged illness. She is survived by her son, Professor Severus Snape of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. The memorial will be held in a private ceremony, date to be determined.

Severus kept staring at the Daily Prophet obituary page for several minutes. He had acquiesced to Healer Valerian's offer to submit a short death notice to the paper, not having the desire (or possibly ability, at the time) to compose something himself. He had likewise not replied to the Prophet's request for a full obituary and funerary information. He had not considered how it would feel to read his mother's life and death condensed into a paltry three sentences, bereft of any sign of... personhood. Merlin, he was neglecting her just as much in death as he had in life.

He was startled by a touch on his arm. It was Poppy, staring at him with wide eyes that darted to the newspaper and back. "Severus... I had no idea," she said softly.

Petrus grunted from his other side, then suddenly stopped chewing when he read over Severus' shoulder as well. Severus silently folded the paper up again.

"Are you alright, lad?" he asked. His voice was thin and nasal, Severus marked, even more than it had been a few months ago, not to mention achingly slow.

"I'm fine," Severus whispered.

There was a pause. "Does Minerva know?"

"She knows." Albus had been at the hospital with him at the end, watching with tears in his eyes as the mass of dark, wailing miasma Eileen ultimately became blew itself out. He must have told Minerva, as Severus' schedule was mysteriously cleared this morning and would remain relatively light the rest of the week. He was not sure if he would rather have the distraction of the students over solitude, but she was probably trying to protect them from his mood as much as help him.

There was another long pause, during which Severus stared at his plate. He was startled again by Petrus' hand gripping his other shoulder firmly. The man's tremor was more noticeable than it used to be, he thought, persistent even through his grasp. "You were going to monitor the study hall this week. Don't worry about it. I'll cover it."

Severus fought down a welt of grief. He would not weep in the Great Hall. "Thank you."

"Poor Eileen. I met her a few times, when she was little." Severus suddenly remembered Petrus was technically his second cousin twice removed. "She was a demon at gobstones, even at age seven or so. I never beat her."

"Neither did I," Severus said emptily. She had never even let him win as a child.

"If I recall, she always won at chess against all the other young cousins, too," Petrus mused. Severus glanced at him. They had never had a wizard chess set in the house at Spinner's End when he was young. Besides gobstones, all they had were various worn muggle games with pieces missing, including a chess-checkers-backgammon box. Petrus shook his head darkly. "Don't invite her sister to the funeral."

"I wasn't planning on it." Eileen's sister Julia was Drussus' mother. Severus had not realized Petrus cared to know so much about the sordid history of the Prince family.

"Or any of the rest of that family. I assume that's why you didn't include a date for the memorial in the notice? Clever of you, really. If you like, whenever you do send out the updated announcement, you can direct correspondence through me."

"There won't be any correspondence, Petrus. Half the family disowned her, and the other half forgot her."

"Oh, there will be correspondence, even if only because you're mentioned in the notice, and you teach at Hogwarts. People pay attention even to junior staff members if it looks like they have staying power, and that you do." He paused. "You're not planning to send out notice of the memorial at all, are you?" he asked shrewdly.

Severus hadn't thought much about the funeral one way or another. There wasn't much point, really. "There is nothing left to bury," he explained grimly.

Poppy made a small noise, and Severus realized Pomona on her other side had also stopped eating and was listening in. "Well... be that as it may... the offer still stands to help with correspondence." Petrus said awkwardly.

"If you wish," Severus said in defeat. He picked up his fork again and started pushing eggs around on his plate, even though he no longer had any inclination to eat them.

"I can insult your aunt without fear of reprisal," Petrus said, his tone now sardonic temptation. "If you agree to hold a memorial. Eileen deserves to be remembered by more than this." He gestured at the newspaper with distaste. "And you would benefit too."

Severus shot him a glare. He had never had an opinionated uncle/grandfather type figure in his life before, and he quickly decided he didn't want one now. "Very well."

As it happened, Petrus was correct. Severus did receive a shower of letters over the next three days. Most were from parents of Slytherin students. They knew Petrus' days as head of house were numbered, they knew who would succeed him, and they desired his favor. A few were from current students, mostly Hufflepuffs. One was a howler from his Aunt Julia, which Petrus calmly vanished out of existence the moment it was delivered with the comment, "No one wanted to listen to that drivel." Petrus had then written his own nastily-worded letter back, though not a howler, as his own shouting voice had become enfeebled with age. He did mix fresh bubotuber puss into the ink; Pomona did not even blink when he asked if she had any available.

Severus was also correct: only one letter professed to be from one of Eileen's old friends asking about attending the memorial. Undeterred, Petrus told him the Hogwarts staff and most likely some of Eileen's healers would make up the numbers. Severus was about to argue the point when Poppy interceded and said she would do all the planning if he would only pick a location, date and time. Severus immediately chose that very Saturday at six o'clock in the morning.

"Saturday at ten it is," Poppy said serenely, deliberately mishearing him. Petrus snorted. Embarrassed at his own surly behavior now, Severus did not correct her. "Where would you like it to be, since we don't have to worry about a burial?"

"Cokeworth. Spinners End. Her house," he said finally. It would be dreary, but he could not imagine his mother any other place anymore. Going home was the last thing she had asked of him. So many times.

Poppy nodded. "I'll speak to the headmaster about borrowing a house elf to spruce up the place, then. Petrus, rather than a public notice, perhaps you should send out individual invitations?"

"Good idea. And you can borrow my elf Maxie too. He'd be chuffed to land a good, special occasion cleaning job, there's so little to keep him occupied since Pearl died back in '75. He's even asked me to send him over to my son's cottage, even though he secretly hates my little great-granddaughter who practically lives there. She's always trying to grab his ears when she comes over. Of course, Percival did the same thing when he was that age..." He turned over an envelope and started writing a list of invitees.

"I'm sure Minerva and Albus will want to attend," Pomona supplied. "Filius and I can help you with setting up, Poppy, and then we'll come back to mind the school during the memorial itself." It was rare for all four heads of houses to leave the school at once.

"Thank you, Poppy, Petrus. And you, Pomona."

"Oh, Severus, of course," Poppy said, patting his hand sympathetically. He blinked at a startling reality. They weren't offering to help out of pity but out of... right and natural sympathy for a colleague. The evidence even suggested some of his coworkers even liked him. It was strange. And nice. And it felt like a weird distraction when he should be concentrating on grieving for his mother. He suddenly felt the need to be elsewhere and stood up abruptly. His... friends? Coworkers. His coworkers looked up at him uncertainly.

"Double fifth years this morning," he lied brusquely by way of explanation, and left.

Notes:

Percival appears to be Pansy Parkinson's dad's canon name. Petrus of course would be more Albus Dumbledore's generation, and quite content to sit out Voldemort's first rise to power after living through Grindelwald.

Poor Severus. Grieving is hard. I can only imagine it's worse when you've trained yourself not to show emotion around most people, and when no one else really knows the person you're grieving.

Chapter 22: The Wake

Severus went to the Great Hall for breakfast on Saturday morning as usual but did not really eat, just nibbled on a slice of buttered toast and sipped tea. Even given it was early on a Saturday morning, the hall seemed muted. He swore the students were watching him, even more than they had been earlier in the week. He determinedly made no eye contact with anyone, until Pomona waved her hand in front of his face to inform him she, Filius, and Poppy were heading out now, and would he please come along.

Severus nodded tiredly and demurred when Filius asked if he needed to fetch other robes from his rooms for the funeral. Severus almost always wore black anyway, and he did not have robes any finer than his usual professorial garb.

The four walked out onto the sunlit grounds together. The sky was actually clear, and the brisk spring winds were mellowing now they were coming to the end of April. As soon as they exited through the great gates, they paired off for side-along apparition, Severus with Filius and Poppy with Pomona. He had taken Poppy over to Spinner's End earlier in the week with the two house elves Squeaky and Maxie so they could see what all needed doing. When they arrived in the little back garden, Severus hardly recognized the place. It was weeded. The bushes were trimmed. The few paving stones by the back door were swept. The old wooden bench had been scrubbed and oiled, as had the ancient hand water-pump.

Pomona looked around and nodded. "I can work with this. Few potted plants, few cut flowers, and you've got some crocuses and daffodils budding up I can encourage to bloom for us." She patted Severus' shoulder and set to work.

Poppy and Filius pulled him into the terraced house. The tiny mudroom was cleaner than Severus had ever seen it before, completely devoid of the usual pile of cloaks, hats, and shoes. Squeaky trotted over, bowed deeply, and explained she and Maxie had stored all of Eileen's personal things in her bedroom. They passed into the kitchen. All the dishes were put away; all the cabinets and shelves had been dusted and polished. Maxie was working on a platter of tea cakes, which smelled wonderful. Severus drifted through silently into the living room. Even two house elves couldn't do much to hide the poverty here. The furniture was clean, floors and shelves scrubbed, but the upholstery of the armchair was undeniably threadbare. Everything in this room was battered, and nothing was newer than ten years. A glance in the bathroom was similar. The elves had scraped all the lime off the faucets and drains and cleaned and reset the loose and broken tiles, but the basin sink would always be chipped and mirror always missing a corner from when Tobias had cracked Severus' head against them when he was nine and then threw away the bloody evidence before Eileen had returned home. A Reparo fixed cracks; it didn't replace what was gone.

Feeling even less energetic now than he had when he got up this morning, Severus sank down into the armchair. It smelled like Eileen: familiar, a little musty, a little like stone dust. And a little like household cleaner.

"This is cozy," Filius said bracingly. "What sort of flowers would you like, Severus?"

"Flowers?" He echoed distantly.

"Of course!" The little Charms professor conjured up a row of matching vases of various sizes.

"Well, I suppose lilies and carnations would be most traditional," Poppy commented after a moment when Severus did not answer.

Severus shuddered. "Not lilies." He could grieve for Lily every other day of his life, but he did not want to be surrounded by distracting reminders of her at his own mother's funeral.

Filius and Poppy looked at him curiously, before shrugging. "Carnations... roses, and gladiolas," Flitwick said firmly and set to conjuring flowers. Once done with that, he looked around the bare walls and flicked his wand. It must have been a silent Colovaria, as the color changed from dingy plaster to a light beige tone, with a subtle design like wallpaper. "Is that alright, Severus?"

"Better than the alternative," Severus grunted. Eileen used to color the walls regularly until Tobias' death. The spell never lasted more than a few days before needing to be renewed, but everyone in the family had considered wall paint or paper to be a frivolous expense in the grand scheme of things once the original wallpaper became irreparably damaged and moldy and had to be removed after a heavy rainstorm that blew off half the shingles.

"What's this stain? Looks like even the house elves have trouble removing it. Scourgify!"

Severus looked over to Filius, peering at the floorboards between the bathroom and the steps to the upstairs. The dark stain resisted the Charms professor as well. He grimaced. "That's where my father died. Entrails-Expelling curse." It was the curse residue that could not be cleaned, of course.

"...Ah." Filius looked decidedly green.

Poppy gasped. "Oh, Severus..."

"I'm fine. I'm over it. I wasn't here at the time." He had heard rumor of the murder the next day and rushed home to find Tobias' body stinking heavily, and Eileen still barricaded in the bathroom under an anti-apparition jinx.

Silently, Filius conjured a brightly colored throw rug to hide the stain and levitated a small end table over the space. He enlarged and lengthened the table into the size of a buffet, blocking the stairs as well as the area of wall before which Tobias had once slumped. "No one but you should need to go upstairs anyhow," he said uncomfortably.

Severus nodded. Mercifully, Pomona came in just then to take over finding places for the various floral arrangements. Filius encouraged her to completely cover the new table with flowers. He then started conjuring extra chairs and some glowing lights for the dark corners of the room. Poppy brought over some tea for Severus. It was in the chipped china teacup Tobias had supposedly given Eileen for their first wedding anniversary. Within an hour, there was no more work to be done. The house elves laid out the victuals in the kitchen, bowed to Severus and Poppy, and made themselves scarce until cleanup. Filius and Pomona left through the front door to lay the short-term navigation charms to guide guests over from the old, abandoned Cokeworth mill, which was the official apparition point for the day. Flitwick would also be placing a muggle-repelling charm there, which Albus was to remove later.

It was nine-thirty. Severus and Poppy sat quietly for fifteen minutes until the first early guest arrived, Healer Valerian. "How are you, Severus?" The healer asked as he shook Severus' hand.

"I'm well."

"I'm sorry for your loss." Severus said nothing, as there was nothing to say to the bland statement. Valerian smiled sadly and turned to Poppy. By the time the two of them had reacquainted, Severus had slipped out to the kitchen with his half-drunk tea.

The next to find him were Minerva and Petrus. Then Chauncey. Then Argus, Silvanus, and David. I'm sorry for your loss. I'm sorry for your loss. I'm sorry for your loss.

By the time Albus and Aberforth found him, he had retreated to the bench in the back garden. The two Dumbledores rested a hand each on his shoulders. The touch was light, yet it felt like they were holding him down on the bench. Albus opened his mouth to speak, but Aberforth interrupted him by picking up Severus' empty teacup and thrusting it under Albus' nose. "Get him a refill, won't you?"

Albus squeezed his shoulder. Severus felt the pull of his gaze but refused to look up. He had spent quite enough time with Albus Dumbledore lamenting his mother's passing the past few months. Everything that needed to had already been said so far as he was concerned. Albus sighed, let go, took the cup, and walked away.

"Mind if I sit here?" Aberforth asked.

"Go ahead," Severus said dully.

Aberforth settled down and looked around the garden for a moment. "Nice place," he commented.

"No, it's not. You're seeing the work of charms and house elves. Usually, it's wretched."

"Alright, it's small, and it's old. Able to be cleaned up, though. I don't think I could get the Hogs Head to look this nice in less than a week, even with a dozen house elves helping me." Severus did not bother to argue. "Did you grow up here?" He nodded. "I've never visited a mill town for...ever. Odd that."

"I don't recommend it."

"You weren't happy here, I take it. Was she?"

Severus shrugged. "Maybe once. Not that I can remember though."

Aberforth sighed. "I'm sorry she wasn't happy, Severus. Sorry that she lived a hard life, and that that's carried over onto you. It's not your fault. Try to remember that she's not suffering now, lad, and she wouldn't want you to suffer either."

"Thank you."

The back door opened, and a middle-aged, mousy-haired, nervous-looking witch stepped out of it. Severus did not recognize her, but she walked straight over to his bench. He looked up at her quizzically. She fidgeted with her skirt for a moment. "Er, Professor Snape?"

"Yes."

She stuck out her hand. He accepted it automatically. It was sweaty. "I'm Olive. Olive Hornby. I went to school with your mother. Eileen and I were both on the gobstones team. I was in Ravenclaw though, not Slytherin."

"Oh." They stared at each other for a moment, until he remembered to release her hand. "Nice to meet you."

"I'm sorry for your loss."

"Yes. Thank you."

"Did she still have all those gobstones? She used to get at least one new set every year, must have had a couple hundred stones by the time we graduated."

"They're in the house."

After a long moment of silence, Olive said, "You look like her."

"Do I?" His most glaring feature, the nose that was disproportionate to the rest of his face, was his father's. Tobias' jaw had been stronger, his neck thicker, to balance it out. No one had ever compared Severus to his mother before that he could remember except for his straight, black, stringy hair. Of course, he'd rarely met anyone who actually knew his parents outside of this town where Eileen had always been the outsider, Tobias the local boy.

"I missed your mother," Olive continued awkwardly. "After what happened with... you know, the family, she sort of disappeared for awhile."

Severus shrugged. "She wanted to keep a quiet life, I think. For my father."

"I always thought it was really brave of her to marry him. I only met him once, early on. He was, um, imposing to look at, I guess, but I think what Eileen really saw in him was the ability to be... different from how she was raised." Severus had nothing to say to that. Perhaps it was true. Perhaps that was how his parents had started, young, in love, rebellious and brave, but they had brought out the worst in each other year after year. He had only known them to be angry, stressed, and struggling. Then at the end in St. Mungo's, afraid.

"What time is it, do you think?" he suddenly asked Aberforth.

"Mmm... Ten-thirty, maybe?"

"I should go in and find Petrus, then. Your pardon, Madam Hornby."

"Of course." She stepped out of his way as he hastened back inside.

The rest of the funeral was something of a blur. The paltry eleven visitors gathered in the little family room with hors d'oeuvres and either tea or wine. Petrus thanked them all for coming and rambled for a few minutes about Eileen's staunch competitive streak and independence as a child. Severus knew all about the competitiveness, but he had always considered his parents horribly co-dependent once he was old enough to understand the wrongness of an abusive relationship and wonder why neither of them ever left. Albus spoke of Eileen as a diligent student and sounded like he was reading from the old student files, recounting her excellence in Charms and Defense Against the Dark Arts. He doubted the then-Transfiguration professor actually remembered his mother as a student with any clarity. At least he did not share the details of Eileen's mental collapse and premature demise. Minerva toasted Eileen as Severus' mother, at which point Severus zoned out until Petrus asked him to say a few words.

Severus took a gulp of wine. It was dry, almost bitter. He hated dry wines no matter the supposed quality. "She was my mother. We had our differences, but I loved her. She was born into a very traditional family but made her own way, for better or worse. She told me she met my father while researching muggle board games she hoped to adapt magically and market to our world. She would have been good at that, I think. Unfortunately, that was something she never had a chance to do in the end, because her very traditional family disagreed with her other, more important choices and did their best to bury her alive." The room was dead quiet now. He stopped himself from mentioning outright her being disowned, the strife in her marriage, or Tobias' murder, though all the angry thoughts were on the tip of his tongue. He could spew vitriol forever, but he shouldn't. He should stop talking before he made this worse. "She had a hard life... especially for the last few years while she was getting quietly sicker. She was never one to ask for help, even though I wish to Merlin she had... I hope she is happier now." He set his wine glass down abruptly on the table Flitwick had set out to cover over the stains from Tobias' death. Why the hell had he decided they should have the funeral in this house? "Excuse me."

He fled back to the kitchen, back to the garden, with all the daffodils Pomona had coaxed into blooming early. It was too small a space, but it did not feel right to straight-up leave. At least they left him alone for awhile.

Minerva proved to be the only one brave enough to come get him so guests could pay their final respects and leave. He managed not to offend anyone further. He, Poppy, Minerva, and Albus were the last ones in the house. Poppy summoned the two house elves back to clean up in the kitchen. Albus strolled around vanishing Filius' chairs, and then the flowers and vases, after confirming Severus did not want to keep any for the few days to a week they would last. Minerva stood next to Severus near the front door, keeping him company.

She peered at the boxes stacked on the nearest shelf and raised her eyebrows. "Are these all gobstones?"

"Yes."

"Good lord. What are you going to do with all of them?"

"Throw them out and replace them with books, I suppose."

She pursed her lips. "I don't think you should just throw them out."

"As you say, what am I to do with over five hundred gobstones, then?" he said sarcastically.

"If there's a nice set, keep that one," Albus suggested lightly. "Maybe you'll want it eventually, or maybe you'll find someone you want to give it to. A younger relative, perhaps."

"I'm estranged from all my relatives," Severus said irritably.

"Not all. You do have one nephew you are fond of, as I recall."

Severus rolled his eyes. He had no intention of giving Harry Potter morbid reminders of a dead woman to whom he bore no actual relation.

"You can always donate what you don't want, Severus. To St. Mungo's, or even to Hogwarts," Minerva said.

"To Hogwarts, eh?" He gestured expansively. "Take what you want, Deputy Headmistress."

Her eyes narrowed. "I will be happy to help you sort through things this summer, if you require assistance, Severus. I appreciate you not imply I'm some kind of vulture by doing so."

"Sorry."

"Apology accepted. You are having a trying day to round out a trying week."

Poppy rejoined them. "I think we're just about done here. Severus, are you coming back to Hogwarts with us or staying here for a bit longer?"

Severus wavered. He had no plans. He hadn't thought about what he would do the rest of the day, as if the funeral was a precipice terminating his path. He looked around at this house he so disliked... his house, now. His eyes fell on the floor stains. "I'm staying. Probably be back for dinner." He was going to rip up those planks and burn them. And find his father's urn and scatter the ashes. And get rid of all the other mementos of death and abuse he could find, including the bathroom sink.

Poppy touched his arm lightly. "I'll put a preservation spell on Maxie's sandwiches and leave them out for you, just in case you decide to stay a bit longer."

"Thank you."

---

Severus almost splinched himself when he left Spinner's End that afternoon. He had told everyone he would be returning to Hogwarts in a few hours... but at the last moment, the destination that arose in his mind was not Hogsmeade but Little Whinging. The brush with dismemberment gave him enough of an adrenaline boost, he consciously decided he did want to take Petunia up on her offer to visit unannounced. Finally. He transfigured his black robes quickly and walked the rest of the way to Number 4 Privet Drive in a numb haze.

Petunia opened the door to his knock. She sighed as soon as she saw him. "Oh, Severus... she's gone?" without waiting for an answer, she reached out and hugged him gently.

Severus was not expecting her... tenderness. He nodded mutely.

"I'm sorry. Come in." She pulled him into the house and led him to the kitchen, where she offered him the cup of tea she had evidently only just poured for herself.

"How did you know?" he croaked.

"It was obvious. I haven't heard from you all week. I wrote you on Monday, and Wednesday. Nothing urgent, but you always reply the same day. I asked Arabella if she had any news about you, and she hadn't, but I gather she checked with Dumbledore who said you were dealing with 'personal issues' but were otherwise in perfect health." She contemplatively poured herself a second cup of tea from the pot and added milk and sugar before guiding him to the breakfast table. "Boys are watching telly. Vernon's in London. We'll talk here. When did it happen?"

"Friday evening."

"Yesterday?"

"Last week. Funeral was this morning." He took a gulp of tea. "I hated it."

"I think that's normal. I hated both my parents' funerals."

"The only people who were there for her were myself, her doctors, and a single school friend," he said bitterly.

Petunia grimaced sympathetically, then squeezed his hand. "The rest of them were there for you. That's as it should be. She's not suffering anymore." Severus looked down at his tea. Oddly, Aberforth Dumbledore was the only other person who had said that so far. It was marginally more comforting than the proclamations of sorrow and sympathy most everyone else offered. "Do you want to tell me more about what happened?"

"Not really." He had no plan when he came here.

"That's alright." He could tell from her tone she was wildly curious. He had never told her what was wrong with his mother. He appreciated her restraint in not probing further. She sipped her tea for a moment and then set it down deliberately. She smiled. "I said before and will say it again, the boys are the best comfort I know. Their show is almost over, and I know Harry would leave it for you anyway. I'll be back in a moment." So saying, she got up and strode purposefully out of the room. Severus was alone for less than a minute before Harry bounded into the kitchen. The smile on his young, cherubic, living face was fiercely happy. Severus hastily set down his teacup in time for Harry to practically leap into his arms. Petunia followed more sedately and grinned at him. "Harry, I'm giving you a very important job. Uncle Sev is sad today. I want you to help cheer him up."

Harry looked up at him with wide, green eyes full of innocent concern. "You're sad?"

"I'm very sad," Severus admitted quietly. In fact looking at Harry, he found he was struggling to keep from breaking down in tears, for the first time since leaving St. Mungo's.

Harry's eyebrows knitted in thought, and he hugged Severus again. "Then we should color," he suggested seriously.

A brief laugh escaped him at the simple offer. "I'd like that very much."

"I get crayons and paper. An' Fantastic Beasts. An' you can hold Bear-Bear." Harry tottered away purposefully.

"And I'll take Dudders to get us all something sweet and unhealthy," Petunia said. She glanced at the clock. "In seven minutes. What's you're favorite dessert, Severus?"

Severus hesitated only a moment before answering, "Blancmange."

"Hmm... well, if I can't find one ready-made, I can get the ingredients and make it fresh. I have Mum's recipe."

"Don't put yourself out on my account, Petunia," he said hastily.

"Nonsense. You're staying for dinner. It will be set up by then if I stick it in the freezer for a bit. And the beauty of blancmange is in its cheapness."

Severus had no sense of time that afternoon. He colored three pictures with Harry, a mooncalf, a niffler, and an occamy. He was amazed the coloring book had lasted so long, until he realized Harry had been taking especial care with these pictures, determinedly keeping all the color inside the lines rather than enthusiastically scribbling everywhere as per his usual wont. Mostly. Next he watched Harry draw stick figures purportedly depicting their snowball fight at Christmas. Then Petunia and Dudley were back. Petunia declared they would all work on the blancmange together, which amounted to Severus supervising the two boys as they took turns stirring and Petunia doing everything else. Then he sat on the couch with the boys, mindlessly watching the children's favorite television shows. His only recollection of the shows was that they were sweet, colorful, mostly plotless nonsense. He knew nothing more about them than they were perfect for his mood. Harry and Dudley both fell asleep on the couch in short order; Petunia mentioned they had missed their usual naptime with his unexpected arrival. Severus held them close and kept listlessly watching the television. He even managed to doze off himself as afternoon transitioned to evening, feeling warm and relaxed for the first time in months with a child curled up under each arm.

He awoke suddenly when the front door opened and snapped closed. He blinked owlishly at the bright television screen before remembering where he was. The cartoons were over, replaced by the news. Harry and Dudley were both still there, and both still asleep, he noticed. Dudley was drooling on him, but he found he did not really care. He heard Petunia's and Vernon's murmuring voices and looked over towards the hall. Petunia smiled wanly at him. "Good, you're awake. Could you wake the boys too? I don't usually let their nap go so late, but I didn't want to disturb you."

Severus nodded and gently shook first Harry, then Dudley. Harry yawned, beamed up at him, and snuggled even tighter into his lee if that were possible. Dudley rubbed his eyes with his fists, then perked up when he saw what the television was playing. "Daddy home?" he hollered and slipped off the couch.

"I'm home, Dudders," Vernon affirmed. The big man walked into Severus' field of view, holding Dudley's hand. He turned off the television and sat in one of the armchairs. He met Severus' eyes and sighed. "Bad day, I hear," he said softly.

"Bad week."

"I'm sorry, Sev. Good you came to us, though. Petunia says you'll stay for dinner."

"I don't want to put you out."

"Y're not putting us out," he said simply. His mustache twitched. "I'm not that tightfisted to deny food and company when you're going through something like this."

"I did not mean to imply you were," Severus said quickly.

Vernon nodded, and he squinted at Severus. "You really needed that nap, didn't you? Looks like you haven't slept in a week."

Severus shrugged. "Not well," he admitted.

"Petunia didn't either, after Iris. It was a little different, then, of course, but still. You like herbal tea?"

"Sometimes," Severus said cautiously.

Vernon grimaced. "I hate it, tastes like grass. But I brewed chamomile tea for her every night for months. With that, bubble baths, foot rubs... and time... she got better."

"Well, thank you for suggesting the most manly of those options, Vernon."

Vernon chuckled and turned to Dudley. "And how was your day, Dudders? Did you help your Uncle Sev feel better?"

"Uh-huh. Mummy and me wen store, and we all help made dessert."

"Oh, yes? What kind?"

Dudley's brow furrowed in thought. "A block-man?" he looked over to Severus questioningly, as did Vernon.

"Blancmange," Severus clarified.

Vernon smiled. "Petunia's recipe is a good one."

"I help with block-man, too. An I help with coloring," Harry piped up, poking his head out from under Severus' arm at last.

"Yes, you did," Severus agreed, smiling softly down at him.

"They're good boys," Vernon said contentedly. Severus had to agree.

In short order, Petunia called them all to dinner. It was a quiet affair, with Severus merely listening to the routine conversation, reviewing Vernon's work and gossip from the neighborhood. He was like a ghost at the table. He did not feel like eating much, but Petunia served up everyone's plate herself, and he knew better than to leave food uneaten. Food waste was worse than asking for seconds. The blancmange was pure nostalgia. He would have sworn it was the same recipe as Eileen's. Perhaps it was. She was a pureblood from a wealthy family who would have had a house elf. She probably learned most of her cooking skills after marriage from the other women in Cokeworth, some of whom Iris Evans would also have known. After dinner, Severus quietly helped Petunia with the washing up. She raised her eyebrows at him but said nothing. Evidently, she did not expect men-folk to voluntarily help her in the kitchen, but Severus found he wanted something to keep his hands busy at this point after a full day of other people anxiously taking care of him. Then they played a simple game with the boys called Snakes-and-Ladders. Harry encouraged Dudley to let Severus win in order to "make Uncle Sev happy." Surprisingly, Dudley agreed to this ploy, although it did not really matter since the outcome of the game was determined entirely by chance, so far as Severus could tell. That was the kind of "artless, pointless" game Eileen had hated most, and therefore never played with him, even when he was Harry's age. He found the simplicity strangely enjoyable, though. Petunia won the first round, Dudley the second and third, then Harry, but they kept playing rounds until Severus finally won. That was when Petunia declared it was time for the boys to go to bed anyway.

Rather than taking them upstairs herself, she called Vernon over to take care of it. He glanced at Severus and then acquiesced. The boys hugged Petunia and Severus both goodnight and followed after Vernon. Severus packed up the board game. Petunia quietly brewed more tea and wiped down the kitchen counters. After a few minutes of steeping, she sat back down across from him and offered him a cup.

"Do you want to talk about it?" she asked quietly.

He stared into the pale, golden brew. He could smell chamomile and lavender in the steam. Finally he answered, "Yes."

Notes:

Olive Hornby was Moaning Myrtle's bully. The dates line up well for her to have been at Hogwarts the same time as Eileen Prince. And that was the end of the incredibly depressing storyline. New plot! Thank you as always for the kudos and comments; I do read all of them and find them motivating even if I don't always reply.

Chapter 23: Mother's Day

Petunia Dursley always awoke at seven o'clock on weekdays, in order to have breakfast with Vernon before he left for work. On weekends, she slept in until seven-thirty. On the second Sunday morning of May, she was awakened early by Vernon's movement around six o'clock, but thought nothing of it as he often got up for a wee before coming back to bed for a proper lie-in on weekends. She drifted back to sleep. And then after an indeterminate amount of time she was startled awake again by two young boys bouncing onto the bed. Both Dudley and Harry were there, in their sleep clothes, occupying Vernon's customary spot. Vernon, meanwhile, was standing at the foot of the bed in his dressing down. He was bearing a tray of tea and scones, ornamented with a small vase of flowers.

"Happy Mothers' Day!" the boys cried in unison.

Petunia smiled at them both, sat up, and held out her arms to them. They scrambled over the bed to her, eagerly accepting her embrace. She kissed both their heads. "Why, thank you, my little darlings!" She grinned up at Vernon. "And this is breakfast in bed, I take it?"

"Dudders' idea," Vernon affirmed. "I think he saw it on telly. Only I thought you might like something better than cereal or toast, which is all I can make, so the three of us walked all the way to the bakery yesterday morning, not just to the park." Petunia had banished them all in favor of some deep spring-cleaning yesterday. Clearly, she should do that more often.

"We love you, Auntie Petunia," Harry cried, hugging her tight.

"You're the best Mummy in the world!" Dudley enthused.

"Oh, I love you too!" She cuddled them closer, almost bursting with happiness.

Vernon chuckled and walked around to her side of the bed, settled the tray on her lap and then fluffed her pillows. He poured out a cup of tea and added just the right amount of milk, one sugar. Petunia picked up a scone, surprised to find it perfectly warm. She realized Vernon had gotten up so early to reheat them. She tore off a corner to taste, careful to hold the bulk of the pastry over the tray. It was lovely of course, getting served breakfast in bed, but she didn't want to get crumbs in the sheets and have to change them later.

Since his usual place was currently taken, Vernon perched on the large linen trunk Petunia's parents had gifted them for their wedding. He already had a cup of tea for himself there waiting for him.

"We have presents for you," Dudley said importantly.

"Really?"

Dudley and Harry both nodded vigorously, and Harry slipped off the bed. He ran out of the room but reappeared quickly with two flower-patterned pale paper bags. He passed these up to Dudley before climbing back onto the bed. Dudley peered inside one of the bags, then pushed it towards Petunia. "This one's mine," he announced.

"I'll open them both once I've finished the lovely breakfast you all brought me," Petunia assured him. "I don't want to spill the tea."

In the end, the bed did get rather covered in crumbs, because Petunia relented and let Dudley and Harry have a scone each. She just couldn't make Dudley wait to eat downstairs, not with his special pouting lip and tummy rumbles. Vernon had to fetch milk for them to wash their food down, and he prudently brought more napkins, but the damage was done. There was no spilled milk, so that was a small triumph at least. Vernon took the tray away when Petunia was done with her own scone, setting her teacup on the night stand. Dudley immediately offered her his present again, and she reached into the bag to find a small flower pot with hand-painted decorations. There were two little blue and green hand prints, a smiling sun disc, and a wobbly spiral. Also some likely unintentional smudges that lent the thing extra charm in Petunia's opinion.

"Oh, this is lovely, darling, thank you!" She kissed his hair again.

"We maked them at school," Dudley informed her proudly.

"And here's mine!" Harry said, inching the bag towards her. It was a similar pot, with different decorations. There was one orange hand print which rather cleverly served as the stem of a bush, with multicolored blobs for the leaves.

"I love it, Harry," she said, and kissed him too.

"Mine's better," Dudley grumbled.

"They are both perfect," Petunia said firmly, "and I'll not have you two arguing about that. But we should find things to plant in them, shouldn't we?"

"We can plant petunias," Harry suggested. He had only recently discovered that Petunia, Lily, and Iris were all in fact flower names, when accompanying her to the garden store for seeds and annuals. It was a wistful moment, and she had gotten him a packet of daylilies to plant in the back garden, figuring they would be sturdier than regular lilies for him to help take care of at this age. She'd ended up getting some iris roots for herself.

"We could," Petunia said neutrally. She didn't actually like the plant much though, possibly because it was her namesake, possibly because they were a pain to take care of. "Begonias and pansies are also quite pretty, though, so we'll just have to see what all the options are."

"None of them are as pretty as Mummy," Dudley said firmly. Petunia laughed and hugged him again. She glanced up at Vernon. Her husband was already smiling, and now he nodded and winked. Really, being a wife and mother was the best thing in the world, sometimes. She mouthed at him, "I definitely want more." Vernon was reticent about having another child, but the good days were just so good...

Later that day after filling both pots with beautiful orange begonias, Vernon of course called his own mother for a nice long chat. Dudley sat transfixed by the television. Harry did not join Dudley on the couch and instead followed Petunia while she puttered in the kitchen.

"Auntie Petunia, what happen to my mummy?"

Petunia set down her paring knife and turned to look down at him. He was frowning up at her very seriously. She knelt down in front of him and gently took his hands. "You know what happened, Harry. Your mummy and daddy were in an accident, and they died. That's why you live with us now."

Harry nodded. "I know. But what happen after?"

"You mean... after they died?"

"Yeah. What happen to mummy?"

Petunia closed her eyes for a moment. She didn't know how to answer such a complicated and deep question, not to an almost-four-year-old. "When people die, their bodies don't work any more. But there's another invisible part of the person inside called the soul." Petunia even had evidence the soul was real, since Lily had told her about the ghosts at Hogwarts. "The soul cannot stay with a body that doesn't work, so it goes away to a place where living people cannot see or hear it."

"Forever?"

Petunia nodded. "Yes, forever."

Harry bit his lip, but then he brightened. "I make her a card!"

Petunia smiled faintly. "You want to make a Mothers' Day card for Lily?"

"Yeah! An' you can post it!"

"Oh, sweetie, you can make her a card, but I don't have a way to send it. The postman can't deliver letters to heaven. They don't have a phone either. It isn't in the same world as us."

"Oh."

He looked so crestfallen. She hugged him for a moment then sat up again and took his chin in her hand. "I think we should write your mummy a letter together, even if we can't send it. I'll help you write down all the things you would like to tell her." Harry smiled. "Why don't you get started on the outside of the card, and I'll be over just as soon as I've finished making the fruit salad, yes?" Harry nodded and trotted over towards his art supplies.

The card Harry ended up making was wonderful, Petunia thought. He drew their house with help, then smiling stick figures of the family. He colored a line of green grass at the bottom and a line of blue sky at the top. Then he opened the card and dictated a letter for Petunia to write (edited slightly for grammar and legibility):

Dear Mummy,

I wish I could see you. I miss you every day. But I am happy. I love Auntie Petunia and Dudley and Uncle Vernon and Uncle Sev and Mrs. Figg. I like Aunt Marge mostly. She has a dog. Mrs. Figg has a lot of cats. I like cats. I like coloring and football and watching telly with Dudley. Sometimes Dudley and me fight, but not always. If you were here, we wouldn't fight as much. But if I lived with you and not here, then I would miss Dudley and Auntie Petunia. We made pretty pots for Auntie Petunia for Mothers' Day and put begonias in them. I wish I could give one to you too. Auntie Petunia helped me make this card. She loves you just as much as I do.

Love,

Harry

Petunia leaned over and kissed his hair. "And I love you just as much as Lily did, Harry," she said softly, hoping it was true. She folded up the card and handed it to him. "Why don't we find a place in your room for you to keep that, since we can't send it anywhere?"

Harry nodded. "Okay." He slipped off his chair and headed for the stairs, but then he paused and looked back at her quizzically. "How come souls need bodies?"

Ah, metaphysics with toddlers. "They need bodies to interact with the world, even with other people."

"Why?"

"Because souls are invisible and insubstantial... which means you can't see or feel them, or even hear them since the voice box is in the body."

"Oh. How come bodies stop working?"

"Remember when Dudley's toy car broke? It's like that."

"Can't doctors make it better?"

"Usually yes, but bodies can get too sick or old or injured for doctors to make them well enough to keep going, and that's when death happens."

"How come people get sick?"

Oh, lord, this was going to be one of those conversations. "That depends. It can be because of germs, or because they aren't eating healthy, or..."

"What's a germ?"

"It's like a tiny bug that lives in dirty things."

"Why?"

"Why does it live in dirty things?" Harry nodded. "Because... well, we clean things to get the germs off of them."

"Why?"

"Because if you touch or eat too many germs they can make you sick." Great, circular explanation, there, girl. She didn't want to get into detailed germ theory though. For one, it was confusing. For another, she imagined Harry might be scared if she told him tiny bugs could grow inside of him.

"How?"

Petunia sighed. "Harry, they just do. You'll learn about it in school someday. Just remember that washing your hands and things is important."

"Okay... Auntie Petunia, what else is washing good for?"

"What?"

"The kitchen's not dirty, but you wash it a lot. Why? Are there in-busy germ souls? Do they fly out the bin? Maybe they can't find heaven?"

Good lord.

Notes:

Harry's getting old enough to have the endless question conversations. Also, I amaware I got the date wrong for Mothers Day in the UK, but I forgot to adjust the Eileen timeline while transferring over to Ao3, so we're stuck with it for now.

Chapter 24: A New Leaf

Severus could not remember a better summer holiday. That was not saying much, of course, but at the same time, it was everything. Yes, part of him was grieving his mother. Part of him would always be grieving Lily and the horrors he had both witnessed and partaken in. But the rest of him was... happy. Minerva kept her promise to help him clean out the house on Spinner's End. Her husband even pitched in for the biggest day of renovations. The whole process was strangely cathartic. He might not have enjoyed it so well if he were not able to retreat to Little Whinging when the oppressiveness of his parents' house became too much. He frequently took tea with Petunia on weekday afternoons, sometimes staying a few hours, sometimes popping in for only fifteen minutes or so.

His visit for Dudley's birthday was kept brief and just in the morning, officially because he and Minerva were deep in renovations, but mostly in order to avoid Marge who was arriving that afternoon. It amused him to tell Vernon he was leaving to meet with his "contractor," and amused him more when the older man merely tapped the side of his nose as he settled into his car to go pick up his sister from the train station.

One week later, Spinner's end was officially done. It was still nothing special, but it was different, and it was his. They had taken out two of the upstairs walls, and the main room downstairs was lined with bookshelves. Everything he hated was gone. Everything that was broken was either gone or fixed. The vast majority of the gobstones and other games his mother had manically hoarded as her one shred of individuality to survive the immolation of her marriage were gone, mostly into Minerva's care. The garden was replanted exclusively with potions ingredients. The wards on the house were updated and now included a muggle-repelling charm. The few reminders of his parents Minerva had talked him into keeping were small enough he was able to lock them in a drawer and forget about them, although he did find himself toying with the key now and then. It was a completely non-magical key, unnecessary should he actually want to open the drawer, but he appreciated the existence of a symbolic barrier. It made it easier to restrain the urge to look at the old photos, the expensive set of gobstones made from citrine, the marriage license, his father's clay pipe, the wedding rings.

He celebrated the completion of the project with a quick trip to Hogwarts to check his annual orders for the student potion supply cabinet were safely arrived. They were. It took him less than an hour to unpack, sort, and shelve them, the ritual having become subconscious habit by now. He returned through Hogsmeade and Diagon Alley to splurge on new books for his new bookshelves. They joined the collection of astonishingly boring administrative, leadership and quality-improvement-related tomes he had picked from Vernon's unwanted stock. He did not spend all that much time at the house reading, though. No, he spent most of the remaining summer days in Little Whinging, and he spent most of the remaining summer evenings brewing potions.

Severus joined Petunia for the whole day for Harry's birthday. It was a Wednesday, so Vernon remained at work, but he and Petunia took the children out to the park to meet up with a few friends. Robin Polkiss was fine. Piers Polkiss was a rat-faced and rat-spirited little boy. He clearly had some innate bullying tendencies, but he did not seem clever enough to pull off anything diabolical on his own. So long as he failed to latch onto someone like Dudley as his muscle, he would be fairly toothless. Piers' and Robin's baby sister Alena, fourteen months old, was a precious cherub with red hair, blue eyes, and a delicate laugh that made all the adults coo, including him, much to his bother and Petunia's amusement. The other day-school acquaintances, Billy and Roger, were blandly normal and inoffensive. The best thing watching them all was that Harry and Dudley were clearly best friends. He had wondered, given the odd squall Petunia still wrote to complain about. The four of them went to a café for lunch, then back to the house, where Severus entertained the boys while Petunia puttered in the kitchen. He was taught to play "Jedi versus Stormtroopers," although he had no idea what that meant, and Dudley's and Harry's enthusiastic explanation did not help. He suspected this was because their information was obtained second-hand from their next-door neighbor Emily. Petunia was almost as clueless as he was and assured him the boys had not actually seen the movie Star Wars when it came out last year. When Vernon returned, the dinner was good, the boys were peaceful, Harry loved his presents, and Severus stayed for cake.

August passed too quickly. It passed even faster after the letters from and then meetings with Albus and Petrus, the days screaming by at the news of Petrus' retirement. He wasn't prepared. He had rarely paid much attention to the students outside of the potions classroom before, thinking he had a few more years at least, and now he was paying for it. He stopped his daily visits to Little Whinging in order to read up on every single Slytherin's student file as well as re-acquaint himself with their family backgrounds, whatever was publicly available. He became more concerned the more he read. Apart from three halfbloods, the single muggleborn, and the entitled Sacred Twenty-Eight heirs and heiresses, few of the upper year students met his expectations. Petrus' notes from career counseling sessions were all over the place. Where was the ambition that characterized the house? The determination, the resourcefulness, even the manipulation? No, the only thing most of these students seemed to have in common was blood purity and chips in their shoulders. It was like their families' loss of the war had beaten the ambition right out of them, which was a frightful prospect indeed. How bad could their home lives be to break so many of them so badly? It suddenly made so much more sense that the Slytherin-Gryffindor potions classes were such a pain. He hadn't been imagining it. It was worse from when he was a student, and not just because all the Gryffindors thought he was a Death Eater.

When he was done with the current Slytherins, he obsessively read through all the incoming first-year files too, trying to figure out which were most likely to be sorted into Slytherin, and how damaged they were all likely to be. It was a tragically small class, just twenty-three students. Not surprising, he supposed, as they would have been conceived in the first big wave of the war, when most people were afraid to bring children into the world. Later as the war dragged on there was something of a baby boom, as folk became more afraid of never having the chance to procreate. He compiled his summarized predictions and observations into a single list. It would be interesting to see how well it lined up with the actual Sorting. His final tally was 3 likely Slytherins (all of whom could be big problems), 4 likely Ravens, 4 likely Hufflepuffs, 1 likely Gryffindor (bravery was a hard thing to read between the lines, especially at this age), 2 tossups between two houses, 7 complete unknowns:

1-5. Muggleborn and therefore unknown: Badeea Ali, Ben Copper, Marina Sanchez, John Hanson, Cheryl Jarvis
6. Thorin Abbot: clear Slytherin, and one of the Sacred Twenty-Eight, though not of the main Abbott line. He had joined every Ministry-sanctioned bairn league that existed and was president of the English Wizardling Chess Club despite being a middling player himself even for that age group. Three of his older cousins had been killed in the war as "blood traitors."
7. Diego Caplan: Hufflepuff. Father in Azkaban.
8. Andre Egwu: unknown, one uncle dead (the Death Eater who had been in Gryffindor), one uncle in Azkaban (the Death Eater who had been in Hufflepuff)
9. Corey Hayden: likely Raven, possible Gryffindor or Slytherin. Half-blood. Aunt and uncle died in the war, noncombatants.
10. Penny Haywood: Hufflepuff. Younger cousin killed by Fenrir Greyback.
11. Tulip Karasu: Raven or Gryffindor. Entire family survived the war unscathed.
12. Victor Ketsueki: either Slytherin or Gryffindor. Pureblood, older brother was a squib and murdered in the war. Lucky the rest of the family survived.
13. Rowan Khanna: Ravenclaw with a sprinkling of Slytherin. Pureblood with muggle great-grandmother. Mother had worked in the Ministry and died in the war.
14. Wilfred Kidd: Hufflepuff, with another uncommonly lucky family
15. Jae Kim: likely Slytherin, possible Raven or Gryffindor. Immigrant pureblood family from Korea who had simply returned to Korea during the war, with no casualties, but they wanted Jae to come to Hogwarts for its reputation which suggested ambitions for him.
16. Barnaby Lee: horrible pureblood family, parents both Death Eaters in Azkaban, grandmother a veteran of Grindelwald's war, currently living with an uncle. All Severus could tell about the child from the records was he had learned to keep his head down. If the hat had any pity, he would go to Hufflepuff.
17. Chiara Lobosca: bugger, another werewolf. (Was Albus planning on springing this on him at the last moment? Thank Merlin the full moon of September was towards the end of the month. He had time to collect ingredients for and brew the tricky and brand-new Wolfsbane potion for her. He couldn't tell which house she might end up in, but he hoped it wasn't Slytherin. She would be a target the moment her secret got out, from strict blood purists but also from non-Slytherins who tarred her with Fenrir Greyback's brush.)
18. Ismelda Murk: a Gryffindor of the Sirius Black ilk. Provocative and contrary, with an older sister already in Gryffindor of the more traditional variety. Surprisingly, although she was a pureblood, her closest relation to have died in the war was a third cousin once removed.
19. Merula Snyde: a mess. Parents both in Azkaban for murdering fifteen squibs, raised by an aunt her parents would have considered a blood traitor, with multiple reports of problematic accidental magic requiring Ministry Obliviators. He recognized the pattern; Merula and her aunt hated eachother. Their relationship wouldn't have been helped by the multiple cursed packages sent to the house when Merula first moved in, the parents' victims taking their revenge on the helpless six-year-old daughter. He had little doubt she would be sorted into Slytherin; no matter her other talents or how she felt about what her parents had done, her burning ambition would be simple recognition.
20. Nymphadora Tonks: honestly, he had no idea. Not enough information. He hoped she didn't end up in Slytherin just because that would be a mess, with her relation to the broken Black family. She'd either be shunned as a blood traitor or shunned as a murderess in the making
21. Elizabeth Tuttle: not a lot of data, and most of it screamed Hufflepuff, but a curious comment in a Prophet article about her family's business breeding quality rats for magical use suggested an independence streak that could send her to Gryffindor or Slytherin, and obsessiveness that would do well in Ravenclaw or Slytherin. Father was halfblood, and his parents were killed in the war.
22. Charlie Weasley: the only other representative of the Sacred Twenty-Eight this year, likely Hufflepuff, can't rule out Gryffindor because of family clumpage. Two uncles dead in the war.
23. Talbott Winger: definitely a Raven. How was he already a registered animagus? Both of his parents had died in the war... one of whom had also been an animagus. Poor child.

Severus stopped brewing potions in the evening and instead resumed the Occlumency exercises he had abandoned at the end of the war. They were calming, sort of. Mostly, they allowed him not to submit to his dread. Fortunately, Petunia invited him for a family dinner the last week of August. It was a life-line, a pressure-valve, the one thing keeping him sane in the mad scramble to prepare for what was coming his way as of September first.

"So, what's new with you, Sev?" Vernon asked as they all settled into the parlor. The roast needed a few more minutes, apparently. He nimbly moved his feet out of the way as Dudley and Harry ran past, ducking between chairs.

Severus' presence was no longer so novel and treasured as to disrupt an important game of tag, he thought wistfully. At least there was that silver lining of going back to work; Harry would definitely be excited the next time he visited. He grimaced and answered Vernon's question. "I've been promoted. I'll be head of House Slytherin starting this term."

"Oh, congratulations," Vernon said.

"You don't seem happy about it," Petunia observed.

"No, not really. It's not something I was looking for, but Petrus is retiring. He's been teaching astronomy for decades at the school and can't tolerate the stairs up to the tower observatory anymore. Can't even take the stairs in his own house, as of this summer, which was why he decided to retire now rather than later. I vaguely knew this would be coming eventually, just not so soon." He shrugged, trying to mask his anxiety. "It's more administrative work than I've ever done before, but I'm the only other Slytherin on staff. Petrus, Albus, and Minerva - she's the Deputy Headmistress - all thought that was the most important consideration."

"Isn't the House basically just which dormitory you sleep in as a student?" Petunia asked. "That's what Lily said at least. Why should that matter? Not to say you wouldn't be qualified, of course."

"It's much more than that. The students in different Houses live in different dormitories and have different class schedules, but they also have different sports teams, compete for House Points throughout the year based on academic and behavioral performance, and have rather intense inter-House rivalries. And those unfortunately tend to extend beyond graduation."

Vernon snorted. "Oh, come off it. I heard Cambridge even hired that Oxford physicist fellow, and they're about as big a school rivalry as it gets. Remember when he was in the news getting a CBE, Pet?"

"Yes, dear. Severus, I do tend to agree with Vernon. I think we're misunderstanding something about the, er, significance of the Hogwarts Houses still, and I'd really like to understand it. Since Lily... well, since Harry will go there."

Severus sighed. "The Houses all emphasize particular core values. The students are sorted into their Houses magically rather than via lottery, with the goal of selecting students who will best fit those values. It's an old tradition dating back to the foundation of the school, when there were only four great masters selecting apprentices, rather than having the coursework divided by subject. The idea at the time was that the students would match with their teacher and learn more effectively, and it carried on even after the first apprentices started taking over and they began adding more instructors. Anyway, House Slytherin... historically has encouraged ambition, resourcefulness, achievement, respect for tradition, and familial loyalty. However, the recent civil war in our society fractured ideologically along the lines of tradition and familial loyalty, in an extreme and ugly sense of course. As a result, upwards of nine-tenths of the current Slytherin students are closely related to someone who died in the war. And about half are related to or personally know someone who was imprisoned for, well, war crimes. That is a higher rate than any of the other houses. Petrus thinks the students would resent any of the other staff taking over even for administrative purposes."

Both the Dursleys looked alarmed at this revelation. Harry and Dudley ran past again in the momentary silence. "So, you're going to be a counselor more than an administrator."

"Pretty much."

"Ouch."

"Now you see why I'm not thrilled to be promoted."

"At least the pay is good?" Vernon asked hopefully.

Severus considered this, then nodded. "The pay is good. It would have taken me a decade to be making this much otherwise."

Vernon grinned weakly. "Well, those teenagers will be aging you so fast, you might as well be paid for it, eh?"

"Your deep concern is appreciated," Severus said sarcastically.

Notes:

Severus pessimistic instincts lead him to exist in a constant state of anxiety lol. I've been breaking canon from the beginning letting Petrus Parkinson be head of house instead of Severus. In my defense, even knowing Dumbledore's interesting hiring practices, it doesn't make a lot of sense for Severus to be head of house the year he takes the job unless there's literally no other Slytherin around. Severus had quite enough to deal with at the time, after all. And yes, brief mention that McGonagall was married at some point--I did not know that either until I was doing research for HP universe events coming up in the '80s. Also note, although I take some of the new student character names from the HP video games, I've never actually played the games and do not treat them as canon, so don't expect that plot to play out.

Chapter 25: The Sacriligious Sorting

Severus really hated the Sorting Hat's song. "Proud Slytherin the purebloods chose/ Imparting skills only to those/ Whose cunning and whose secrecy/ Was already proven legacy." Come to think of it, he had always hated the hat's songs when he bothered to pay attention to them.

Finally the Sorting itself. Severus surreptitiously took out his list, ready to make notes.

When Abbott, Thorin was sorted into Gryffindor, he thought he had misheard. When Ketsuiki, Victor ended up in Ravenclaw, he was confused. When Kidd, Wilfred and Kim, Jae somehow both ended up in Gryffindor, he started becoming frustrated. When Lee, Barnaby finally became the first Slytherin and slouched off to join his housemates looking dead inside, Severus grew furious. By the end of the night, there were only four new Slytherins. Only one of them, Merula Snyde, had he identified ahead of time. Only one of them, Elizabeth Tuttle, stood a chance of being a well-adjusted and normal youth. Was the Sorting Hat trying to end Slytherin House or something? At least with so few students, he would have plenty of time for all of them, he thought bitterly. He eyed Abbott again, smiling determinedly at the Gryffindor table while older students jostled around him. What was that boy doing there? Severus still couldn't believe it.

Albus stood up for his usual start-of-term nonsense. Mister Abbott was electrified instantly... and then sagged in obvious disappointment when the Headmaster's joking words completely failed to inspire him. Ah. Abbott's ambition was to emulate the singular Albus Dumbledore, to the extent he even went to Gryffindor House, only to have the rug pulled out from under him.

The food appeared. Severus ignored it and looked back down at his list instead, frowning. He made a note next to Abbott's name - honorary Slytherin. Then he shoved the list back in his pocket. Nothing to do about the Sorting now, but next year... He spent the feast observing the newest Snakes, and the one that got away. He exchanged only casual pleasantries with the two new professors sitting next to him. Aurora Sinistra was Petrus' replacement and former Hufflepuff, pleasant but inobtrusive. Wilbert Slinkhard had been researching a dissertation in pacifist defense on and off for the past fifteen years, admixed with joining non-violent protests in both wizarding and muggle communities all over the world. Strangely, he reported marching on behalf of both sides of the Irish muggles' conflict. Severus suspected he might be an eloquent idiot.

When the feast ended, he joined the rest of the faculty for the first staff meeting. There was little to discuss, except to note that Chiara Lobosca, the werewolf, had been sorted into Hufflepuff, so her prefects would need to be informed of her condition and a private, warded room created for her transformations. Severus and Pomona confirmed all was in order to produce the girl's Wolfsbane potion, and Pomona would be supervising personally for the first month to ensure the girl took her potion correctly and tolerated the transformation without incident. If all went well, the Hufflepuff prefects would be permitted to supervise her potion adherence for the rest of the year. All told, it was a much better plan than Remus Lupin's Shrieking Shack.

After the faculty meeting, Severus hurried downstairs to the Slytherin dormitory to check in with the prefects. All was in order. He informed them he would meet with them all individually throughout the month of September to discuss the house's goals for both quidditch and the House Cup, and to deal with any problems that may arise. This was met with considering looks, but he decided not to try to read into that at the moment. Then he swung by his office and read through the complete Slytherin roster, then pulled out the box of records Petrus had dumped on him and found the roster from seven years ago, when all the students were different and Slughorn was still head, then the one from fourteen years ago, just before his own Sorting. His suspicions were confirmed without a doubt.

Finally, with all the students settled for the night, he marched back up to Albus' office. "M and M." He did not know what the password meant and did not care. He knocked when he reached the landing at the top of the spiral staircase but did not wait for Albus to answer it. It was almost midnight; the Headmaster was unlikely to be in the outer chamber expecting guests.

Indeed, Severus had reached the shelf where the Sorting Hat rested by the time Albus hastened out of his inner chambers, wearing a vibrant orange satin bathrobe and fluffy purple slippers that clashed terribly. His beard and hair were dripping wet and soapy. He squinted in the dim candlelight, having removed his glasses and failed to retrieve them in his surprise. "Severus? What's wrong?"

"The Sorting. I need a word with this." He gestured distastefully at the worn hat.

Albus cocked his head to the side. Amusingly, a rubber duck slipped out of his beard and fell to the floor. "I take it you feel this is urgent?" he asked. He started running his hands over his hair and beard, drying them wandlessly.

"For me, yes. Feel free to go back to your bath."

So saying, Severus snatched the Sorting Hat off the high shelf and rammed it on his head. After a moment, that familiar, smug little voice said, "Well, this is interesting. Bit late for the Sorting, aren't you? There's a mind here, surely, and a displeased one. Did you miss the train? You'll need to open up a bit if you expect me to make heads or tails of you." Severus was confused for only a moment before dropping his Occlumency shields. The hat's Legilimency was impressive, but it was made for untrained eleven-year-olds. "Oh... how irate you are, young master Snape."

Professor Snape, Severus corrected mentally. Head of Slytherin House.

"It's always the ones with traits from multiple houses that end up as Heads," the hat mused.

Traits. That's what I wish to discuss with you, Severus thought venomously.

"Are you threatening a hat?" the hat asked. Severus pictured it buried in Rubeus' chicken coop, forced to sit on a student's head during every one of Professor Binn's lectures, sliced up and fed to the giant squid, and finally burning up with Fiendfyre. "Oh my," was the hat's amused response. Moving on, Severus recalled the hat's choice words for Slytherin House at this evening's Sorting, then recalled in exquisite detail the worst parts of his own experience as a halfblood in Slytherin, followed by the most gruesome terrorist attacks from the war perpetuated by blood purists.

He snapped his Occlumency shields back into place for a moment, giving both himself and the hat a moment to process and recover their poise.

"Oh my," the hat finally said. It no longer sounded amused. Then, "I cannot change my nature, Professor Snape. I am a Sorting Hat."

You don't have to sort on blood purity! Severus thought at it. Ambition. Achievement. Cunning. Resourcefulness. Those are Slytherin's traits too. And they were the more important ones, that could actually be cultivated, nurtured, and matured in school.

"They are," the hat agreed sadly. "But so many children turn away from those traits. They all want to be brave and smart and popular." Popular? Severus did not ask the question intentionally, but the hat answered it regardless. "Yes, they want to have lots of friends, like Helga Hufflepuff."

Severus snorted in mirth when he realized what the hat meant.

"Hmm... when did Gryffindor become equated with popularity?" the hat asked, sounding mightily confused. "Most students hated Godric; he was admirable, yes, but too driven, too driving. They had to be brave to take up with him. Everyone wanted Helga though."

Severus mentally listed off all of Albus Dumbledore's greatest accomplishments, starting with his sterling academic record, moving on to his sensational defeat of Grindelwald, culminating with his current list of honorifics.

"I'll be having a word with that boy when we're done here. Should have put him in Slytherin," the hat fair grumbled.

Why don't you know all this already? Severus thought at it.

"My only cognitive functions are memory, Legilimency and musical composition. I only have a fully functioning mind when I'm using someone else's. No one puts me on anymore besides first years," the hat answered matter-of-factly.

That is going to change. Did you mean to imply earlier that you have been sorting potential Slytherins into other houses because of the student's preference?

"When there is doubt, and their choice is clear, and the numbers are not too uneven, then yes."

That's ridiculous. Knowing what he did now, Severus would definitely have chosen Hufflepuff.

"Oh my," the hat said for the third time. "Yes, I can see why you feel this way. You wouldn't have reached your same potential in Hufflepuff, but my goodness would you have been happier." Severus thought about burning the thing with Fiendfyre again. "I see your point, Professor Snape, but I still cannot change my nature. Either you will have to modify my enchantments, or you will have to modify perception of your house and make students willing to enter it."

Change your damn song.

"I can do that. And remember, you are the face of Slytherin, now. Let's see, ambition, achievement, and resourcefulness..." It started humming.

Severus swiped the hat off his head and tossed it to Albus. What did the hat mean, he was the face of Slytherin? A question for later. "It would like a word with you. The Sorting is an abomination, Albus. We have to fix it."

"Pardon?"

"Did you know it lets students pick their houses?"

"In a way, yes, else families would not cluster quite so strikingly," Albus said. "I think it's more of a veto power, really. The hat doesn't want our first years to be miserable, after all. Why, do you think it's a problem?"

"They're 'vetoing' Slytherin disproportionately, which makes my House a concentration of blood purists by default in our current climate. Anyone who is willing to be sorted into Slytherin is sorted into Slytherin."

Albus frowned and stroked his beard. "You're sure?"

"Do you really think Felix Rosier belongs in Slytherin? Or Jane Court in Hufflepuff?" The fifth-year Rosier was the most stereotypical Raven Severus had ever met. He was determinedly academic but lacked ambition or subtlety of any kind. Meanwhile Court effectively ran the students' black market of banned items, something even her head of house Pomona was unaware of until Petrus had complimented her on it admiringly at the end-of-year faculty party. "Do you think it's a coincidence that other than the prolific Black, Bulstrode, and Flint families, the vast majority of Slytherins come from the second half of the alphabet for the past fifteen years?" If Severus himself had entered Hogwarts just a year or two earlier, before the start of the war, perhaps he would have had a chance at a different sorting... probably not, though. His mother had left him with stupid notions about the Houses. "There are only four Slytherin first years this year. Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw have six each, Gryffindor seven." It was the smallest and most lopsided Sorting he had ever seen.

"You may have a point," Albus conceded.

"Even besides creating a haven for extremism, it's a disservice to the students if they're not getting the guidance and supportive peer groups they deserve," Severus railed.

"What do you suggest?"

"I told the hat it needs to change its songs, for a start. Albus, it doesn't understand the way this school works anymore. We've drifted away from where we started, and the hat's only modern perspective is from first day first years. It had no idea blood purity had become such an intensely political issue. It's no wonder it can't sort appropriately. At the minimum, we should have the Heads of Houses wear the thing now and then so it has a better working knowledge of the houses as they are now. We should also look into the possibility of updating its enchantments, to make it harder for students to refuse appropriate placement."

Albus looked at the old hat thoughtfully. "You know, I'm surprised Petrus did not come to me about this."

Severus shrugged. Petrus was Albus' generation. "When Petrus was a student, Slytherin was still a functioning and respectable place to be. He might even have been happy in school. Horace would have been the same. No, worse, Horace was willfully blind."

"I know you're a pessimist, Severus, but surely you don't mean to imply all your students are miserable?" Albus said, with a hint of his typical merriment.

"The only Snakes who were truly happy when I was a student were the mentally challenged and the insane," Severus said flatly. "I have no reason to believe it's changed based on Petrus' files and what I have seen of them in class."

"You make me question the wisdom of sending more students there who don't know what they're getting into."

Severus glared at him. "My house. My problem. Don't you dare consent to turn the House of Slytherin into the waste-heap of Hogwarts, my students' only prospects Knockturn or Azkaban. So help me, Albus, I am fixing this, and you will not impede me."

Albus raised his eyebrows. He offered a small smile. "No, I will not. If there's one thing I have learned it is not to underestimate the power of a true Slytherin with a vision for the future. In fact, I cannot wait to see where you take this."

Severus studied him suspiciously for a moment, but the headmaster seemed perfectly genuine with his praise. "Don't forget to talk to the hat. Good night."

Notes:

Student names mostly taken from some Harry Potter video game I've never actually played. Any similarity between my characterizations and those in the game are most likely accidental. I've obviously made up the alphabet thing, but that is the pattern to expect if the hat really were Sorting inappropriately, and honestly, it must be. Sure, Salazar Slytherin could have been an arrogant, bigoted prick, but he must have some redeeming factors for the other three Founders to be friends with him in the first place, and literally no one besides insane psychopaths like Voldemort who only wanted biddable minions would deliberately select students like Crabbe and Goyle, neither of whom seem to have any of the official Slytherin traits besides blood purity.

Chapter 26: Simple Gifts

Dear Petunia,

I'm getting unimaginative with gifts for you and Vernon, but these students suck out all of my creative energies like little vampires during the start of term (I won't be so crass as to compare them to dementors). Enjoy the chocolate. Happy Birthday.

Yours,

Severus

Petunia was as usual perfectly satisfied with Severus' gift, which was waiting for her with the morning mail with the short note enclosed. The box of chocolates was exquisite. She gave one chocolate truffle each to Dudley and Harry before packing them off to day school. She sampled two of the three flavors of chocolate cauldrons (butterbeer and pumpkin) throughout the day but saved most of those to share with Vernon later. The butterbeer ones were her favorite, but she resolved to leave half of those and all the firewhiskey ones for Vernon. The chocolate-covered peppermint toads she cheerfully and shamelessly gobbled all herself, reasoning Vernon might find the shape off-putting and that the mint was too strong for the boys to enjoy. After the breakfast dishes were all cleaned, she jotted down a quick thank-you in Severus' journal, then sat down to indulge in a soap opera while she had the house to herself. Rachel came over for an enjoyable hour of lunch and gossip.

Doing nothing in particular was, altogether, a jolly way to spend her birthday, Petunia decided.

She allowed the boys another chocolate truffle when they came home. "Mummy, where does choc'late come from?" Dudley asked.

"It's made from cocoa beans, milk, and sugar," she answered absently while rolling out the crust for the steak-and-kidney pie she had decided to make for her birthday dinner. It was a favorite of hers, the dish she had always ordered when the family had gone out to the local eatery for special occasions when she was a little girl.

"We grow cocoa beans next year?" Harry asked excitedly.

"Ooh, yes! Then Mummy can make choc'late! 'Cause Mummy's cooking is the best!"

Petunia grinned and shook her head. "Sorry to disappoint you boys, but cocoa beans don't grow here."

"Why?"

"We're too far north."

"That's silly," Dudley complained.

Harry, meanwhile, dragged the little stool over from next to the sink and stood on it so he could see over the counter and look at her quizzically. "We talk about south in school. Not today but before. South is where Austalia is."

"And Afica! We did a song!"

"If you learned a song about the continents, then you must sing it to me."

Dudley followed this suggestion immediately, belting out at the top of his lungs, "North America, South America, joined in the West./ Euro' and Asia meet together, and on Afica they rest. Ausalia stand alone, floatin down below./ An' Anartica is the lonelies, where no one want to go."

"No fair, Dudley, I wanted sing too," Harry complained.

"Then next time, you should just join in," Petunia told him. "That was very nice, Dudley."

Harry scowled whilst Dudley smirked and tried to climb up on the stool next to him. Harry shook his head firmly. "I'm shorter. I get step."

"But I want it!"

"Harry's right, Dudders, he needs it more than you do." Dudley sighed dramatically, while Harry grinned in triumph.

"Anyway, cocoa beans grow in Austalia?"

"I'm not sure, Harry. That might be too far south, where it starts getting too cold again. Cocoa beans are from tropics."

"What's the topics?"

"Land close to the Equator."

"What's the Quator?" Dudley asked, just as mystified by this new information as Harry.

"Equator. It's the imaginary line around the middle of the Earth, like the waistband of the planet."

"What's a panet?"

"What's Earth? Isn't that juss dirt?"

Petunia took a deep, bracing breath. "The Earth is the name for one of the planets. It is the world we live on, a huge, huge ball of rock. England where we live is just a very small place on the surface of the ball, and much smaller than those continents you learned the names of. There are other planets that are also huge balls of rock, some bigger than Earth and some smaller." The boys' eyes widened in wonder, or possibly confusion. "The Moon is similar, also a big ball of rock, but not as big as a planet." She took advantage of the momentary stunned silence to finish constructing her pie and put it in the oven.

"I don't get it," Dudley admitted eventually. Harry nodded agreement.

"I'll get you a coloring book about the solar system," Petunia said. They brightened immediately.

"How come we don't fall off?"

"Fall off what?"

"The big ball. The Earth."

"Can't stand on a ball." The boys nodded wisely at eachother in perfect agreement with this reasoning.

Resigning herself to another hour of endless questions until dinner, Petunia washed her hands and then herded both boys into the back yard. She might as well get some weeding done while they pestered her. Harry was actually learning to recognize some of the weeds this summer, specifically blooming dandelions, and was helping her pull them. Watching Harry work, she strongly suspected he must be employing some accidental magic to pull the dandelions. He always got the the taproot intact as she had instructed back in June, every single time, no matter how big the plant was and how hard he had to struggle with it. She duly praised his efforts, and he swelled with pride as he threw each weed into her bucket. Not to be outmatched, Dudley, initially lured away by the sight of some of his favorite toys, triumphantly appeared with a little wagon to enthusiastically cart the weed bucket back and forth to the compost heap in the back behind the shed. Petunia was glad he had put his boundless energy to practical use today. Normally, he ended up spreading toys and things all over the yard and house with his multiple begun-and-forgotten daily games. He did still get periodically distracted, dragging the wagon to other corners of the garden before remembering his self-appointed mission. She praised him as well.

The pie was delicious, as was the lemon cake Vernon brought home for her. The boys sang Happy Birthday and presented her with a large art project they had worked on together at day school and folded into one of their bags to keep secret until this evening. Petunia's smile was a little strained as she accepted it and stuck it to the refrigerator; it was shedding poorly-glued glitter all over the floor. Hopefully, they would be making Vernon a new, glitter-free card or picture in two weeks she could replace it with.

Vernon took the boys upstairs when it was time for bed, which Petunia appreciated even though she fully intended to follow them up and read a bedtime story as per usual. In the meantime, however, she opened up Severus' journal. To her surprise, he had not yet written anything today, which was odd since he was usually so conscientious about both dates and timely replies, even if it was just a quick yes/no/thank you/you're welcome. Of course she supposed, the school year was different. She would have to get used to that again.

Day 3. Any disasters yet, Professor? -P

She leafed through a gossip magazine and ate another pumpkin mousse-filled chocolate cauldron while watching for a reply. She chuckled when it finally came.

You know me so well -S

Let's hear it then -P

I discovered a grievous conspiracy against the integrity of my House on Saturday. Sunday was uneventful. I narrowly survived today's classes unscathed, but alas discovered that my seventh-year prefects are the worst, most entitled  horrors . I despair for the future -S

Petunia sniggered. So melodramatic -P

I try. Happy birthday -S

Thank you -P

How did you celebrate? -S

By eating bonbons and otherwise doing absolutely nothing of note -P

Good birthday then? -S

Exquisite. So what did your terrible, horrible, no-good, very bad prefects do? -P She decided at that instant which book she would be reading the boys tonight.

Their class in general is full of trouble-makers. I had a meeting with both of them to get to know them a little better and also to obtain an impression of how the students are getting along socially in the privacy of the dormitories and whether they perceive any of the problems in the house that I do. Unfortunately, they are both from posh, rich families and don't care about problems that don't directly affect them. Both were overly familiar on the grounds that I was still a seventh-year student during their first year and have no interest in helping maintain discipline. Both were openly judgmental about my muggle father. -S

They do sound unpleasant -P Petunia suspected his being so close in age to the oldest students might be the biggest part of the problem. Much harder to assert himself as an authority figure in the "home." Lily had stopped listening to Petunia long before she stopped listening to their parents.

Tried to remonstrate with their pathetic apathy. The boy rolled his eyes at me -S

Hope you gave him detention. I'm the only one allowed to roll my eyes at you -P

I did not -S

Did you at least glare at him? Really, really murderously like you can? -P That wasn't a habit she wanted to encourage in him of course, but a little fear might help him to maintain respect amongst the angsty seventeen-year-olds, so he could focus on the younger students who presumably needed him more.

I might have, yes. The saddest thing is those two still represent the best of their class. They actually are both bright enough to pass their classes without trying very hard, and they're both lazy enough they tend to follow the rules because they have no reason to break them. I think that's the only reason they were made prefects, to be honest. -S

Do you get to pick the prefects for next year at least? -P

I nominate, Albus approves -S

Next year will be better I suspect. You just have to stick it out until then -P

We'll see if I live that long. I'm meeting the sixth year prefects next week, and fifth years the week after that. Assuming I survive, it's all the first years after that -S

Oh, dear, Severus had gotten himself even more worked-up than he had been before the start of term. He was such an obsessive and socially awkward dork he was going to run himself into the ground with this new project. Do yourself a favor and take a break somewhere in there, even if the other interviews go better. Come out for a visit, maybe. Or just lock yourself in your room and don't speak to anyone for a day or two -P

...That might be a very, very good idea. Thank you. -S

Notes:

Title in reference to the eponymous song, which basically sums up Petunia's current contentment.

Chapter 27: Too Many Meetings

Monday, September 3.

"Salazar," Severus said to the blank wall concealing the entrance to the Slytherin common room. That was always the first password of the year, which would have been a security risk if it didn't change the very next morning. The tradition at least preempted the need to give out the password to the Head Boy ahead of time, as Gryffindor and Hufflepuff did. The common room was luxurious as always. The dark, leather-clad furnishings were all donated by wealthy graduates. It was the largest of the four House common rooms, mostly because a smaller room also would have been claustrophobic with the lack of windows. The location under the lake did not allow for vertical expansion of the complex. Instead, all the dormitories and bathrooms radiated outwards from this central area, which itself was naturally divided into various sub-sections by its support columns.

Severus paused at the first line of pillars to observe the students. They appeared just as schismatic as ever. The prized area near the great hearth was presided over by the seventh-year prefects, holding court amongst the other older and high-status purebloods. The four first years were tucked into a distant corner where they wouldn't be readily noticed. There was a handful of halfbloods defensively positioned behind a group of pureblood quidditch players, including halfblood quidditch captain and sixth-year prefect Gwenog Jones. No sign of the only muggleborn, nor of Felix Rosier, the fifth-year prefect and current highest ranking representative of the Sacred Twenty-Eight after the seventh year prefect Augusta Selwyn. Actually, no, there was Felix, sitting alone and half-hidden in the darkest corner of the room. That was peculiar. Yes, Felix was not exactly the typical ambitious Slytherin student, but if anything that should make him more of a target for cunning hangers-on hoping to use him as a stepping stone into higher society. Was he repelling them, or were the others that incompetent?

A seventh year re-entered the room from the dormitories and caught sight of him. She grinned widely, and not in a friendly way, then bowed mockingly. "Look everyone, we're in the presence of royalty! Hail the Half-Blood Prince!"

All eyes turned towards him. Severus could have strangled her. Yes, the younger students all knew him as their strict Potions Master, but the relationship with a Head of House was different. He had no desire to let students define it for him, particularly ones who could regale the others with memories of him as a bullied and unpopular teen. As it was, he kept his face unmoving and cast a nonverbal Silencio on her before she could say anything more. He stuck her feet to the floor for good measure. It was too late, though. All the seventh years were now snickering, as were a few of the pureblood sixth years. Severus considered for a moment, then looked over at Felix, who had if anything shrunk even further into the corner. Too bad for the boy, but Severus had to make use of him and his bloodline just now. "Mr. Rosier, please direct all students fifth-year and below into their dormitories."

The way the two seventh-year prefects stopped laughing and scowled at the snub confirmed his action beautifully. Felix hastened to comply, not meeting his eyes. Fortunately for everyone, the junior years had heard him just as plainly as Felix had. They did not need much urging to vacate the room. As soon as the last fifth year was gone, Severus waved his wand, casting a silent Muffliato encompassing the whole room. He strode forwards with confidence, voluminous black academic robes billowing about him dramatically. He ignored the more impudent seventh years for a moment, instead making eye contact with the cluster of mixed quidditch players and halfbloods. "Would anyone else like to return to their dormitories now?" He concealed a smirk as the silenced girl who had spoken out first mouthed obscenities at him; fortunately, no one was looking in her direction anymore. No one else said anything, but Augusta rolled her eyes and picked up her feet to rest on the low table in front of her. Severus chose to ignore her for the moment. That wasn't someone he wanted to alienate unless he had to.

"It may have escaped your notice, but I am now your Head of House. I do not suffer disrespect."

"Yes, your highness," another seventh-year muttered. Severus silenced him as well.

"'Professor' or 'sir' are perfectly adequate, Mr. Colchis." He had never regretted his pretentious old nickname more.

"I don't take orders from a man with a muggle father," another boy spat. Silencio, Levicorpus.

Severus advanced on him. "You do, actually, Mr. Prentiss, at least, you do if you wish to realize your goal of a position in the Ministry." He made eye contact with the poor lad and invaded his completely undefended mind with Legilimency. I may not be as well-connected as Professors Parkinson and Slughorn were, but I can end your dreams if I so choose. It would be easy, and no one would suspect me. He withdrew his thoughts as soon as the boy's eyes widened in fear.

Two other seventh years had the gall to fire off a pair of jinxes at him. He blocked them easily, disarmed both, silenced them, and hoisted them up by their ankles, all in less than three seconds. "Protego totallum," he intoned, shielding the group of silent, mixed-blood sixth years. "Anyone else?"

Vivian Vandamme's curse was actually Dark. Severus deflected it onto a crystal vase, which melted. He quickly disarmed Vivian and pinned her harshly to the ceiling. He regretfully set aside his lofty ambitions of reformation and redemption for the seventh years, but not for the younger, more impressionable students. He instead resigned himself to keeping order amongst the senior terrors through continued intimidation, and protecting the juniors from bullying.

"Are we done with this tantrum yet?" No one else spoke or attempted to curse him, so he walked easily to into the lounging area before the hearth and sat down on one of the couches. He lazily flicked his wand again, releasing the various charms. Three bodies crashed to the floor. "I wish to speak with Ms. Selwyn and Mr. Orwell," he announced. "Everyone else may leave."

It was an opportunity for the idiots to bow out gracefully without further punishment. Unfortunately, not everyone took it. All the sixth years and half the seventh years fled. The three who had already tried to curse him idiotically tried again. He immobilized all three before they finished their incantations without bothering to get up. "You would do well to recall who recommended me for this job," he said. He waited a moment for all the sixth years to escape before raising his wand again. To make it entirely clear he was referring to the Dark Lord, he pointed at each of their foreheads and cast a tricky glamour charm of the Dark Mark. "If that is still there by morning, I imagine someone will give you detention. It won't be me. Get out of here." As soon as they could move again, the three fools grabbed the nearest copy of the Standard Book of Spells Grade 7 and retreated to the bathroom. Severus dropped his original Muffliato and recast it around just himself and the two seventh-year prefects.

Augusta smiled at him ironically. "Hail the Half-Blood Prince. I missed seeing that kind of thing after you graduated. Second year just wasn't as entertaining without you and Black throwing hexes in the corridors every day."

"None of that from you, either, Ms. Selwyn."

"Of course not, sir."

"Did you just come visiting to jinx a bunch of your helpless students, sir?" George Orwell asked idly.

"No, I came to talk with you two."

"Oh? Why?"

"How fares Slytherin House?"

"Strong as always, not as pure as it should be," Augusta answered with a pointed sneer at Severus.

Severus snorted. "I disagree."

"You wish to befoul us with more than your ancestry?"

Severus again ignored the insult. "I see it has escaped your notice we are now the smallest of the four Houses."

"Not everyone is destined for greatness," George simpered.

"No," Severus agreed silkily. Certainly not the twats in this particular class. "Tell me, what is your ambition, Ms. Selwyn?"

Augusta scoffed. "I'm heir to the House of Selwyn. I'll inherit, obviously."

"And do what? You could get all 'T's this year and still win your inheritance so long as you continue breathing longer than your father," Severus said scathingly.

"How dare you, you son of a muggle-loving-"

"The same way I dared mar the faces of those three," he interrupted, jerking his head towards the bathroom hallway. "Yours is not an ambition, Selwyn. It is pathetic complacency and the path to ignominy for your family." Augusta scowled.

"We could tell our parents what you did," George said, gesturing towards the bathroom.

"Be my guest," Severus answered. "You will be telling them nothing they do not already know." No, his role in the war had been widely circulated and commented on back in 1981, and yet remained publicly ambiguous for all that. Few of the Light side believed him capable of fooling Albus Dumbledore. None of the Death Eaters who had themselves been under Voldemort's Legilimency believed him capable of fooling the Dark Lord.

"What do you want?" Augusta asked.

"Nothing extraordinary. I want order in the House. I want us to have the respect we deserve. I want our students to excel. I want us to win the House Cup. I want us to prosper." He studied the two lazy rock-lizards before him. It was obvious they didn't care. They just wanted him to go away and leave them alone to their pleasant, privileged lives. He was wasting his time. "All I require from you two is to maintain discipline amongst your fellow seventh-years. The behavior they displayed this evening is unacceptable. If they continue to displease me, they will be punished, and so will you."

"Gonna give us detention, Professor?" George asked, grinning with all his teeth.

"I can assure you, whatever punishment I devise, it will be effective," Severus said, assuming the unforgiving tone and expression he had honed in the war. It was annoyingly clear that these seventh years, Sorted while he himself was still a student and the war was at its height, would only respect him as an ex-Death Eater. He would have to seek actual student allies for his plans elsewhere.

George's grin disappeared, and he looked sulky. "Yes, sir."

"Good. In that case, I'll bid you both good night. And I'll be sure to complement your families regarding your cooperation." He stood up and left without a backward glance. It was only day three, and disaster had struck...

---

Monday, September 10

Despite Petunia's advice to pace himself, Severus met with the sixth year prefects on schedule. Peredur Burke was a complete and utter berk. He was pureblood. He was cheerful. He didn't mind answering younger students' questions. Otherwise, he never enforced discipline, his grades were mediocre, and his plan in life was to work at and eventually inherit his grandfather's antique shop in Knockturn Alley. He was almost indistinguishable from Augusta Selwyn in that regard, but even more foolhardy in that he would actually need decent NEWT scores if he wanted to avoid disaster handling the Dark artifacts that made up the bulk of the family business.

The other sixth year prefect, Gwenog Jones, was a delight. She was a half blood, and she was motivated. She liked to lead, which had earned her both the captaincy of the Slytherin quidditch team and her prefect's badge. She was the one who had taken charge of the first years after the Welcome Feast. She had a personality as blunt as her beater's bat. She easily dominated a room, including Severus' quiet, organized office when she first entered, sitting down without awaiting instruction and almost propping her feet on the desk before Severus' glare warned her not to (he was perfectly capable of domination himself when so inclined).

She had opinions, lots of them. And she was vocal about them. Severus leaned back in his chair and just listened for awhile. "It's annoying, Professor, so many Slytherins are lazy! They're just rich and waiting for their inheritance. I don't know why some of them bothered coming to Hogwarts at all if they don't care about learning more than grade-four spells and just pay smarter people to do their homework..." Severus did not ask who she was talking about. He had a good idea already from potions classes and Petrus' files. "We could have won the House Cup if we'd been smarter about it and kept the trouble makers in line..." Yes, they could have. "And we should have won the Quidditch Cup last year, except Tracy was an idiot and kept Jules as keeper because of his father. I'm not going to make that mistake, let me tell you..." Severus fished around in his desk while she ranted until he found a packet of potions-grade tea leaves. He conjured a teapot and cups for them both, cast a silent Aguamenti and boiling charm, and brewed the tea. "Everyone's so moody, so touchy. It's 'blood status this, blood status that. Oh, no, you can't mention Azkaban because my second cousin once-removed is there'..." She absentmindedly accepted a cup and kept talking. "Some of them take it out on halfbloods or mudbloods or lower years."

"Muggleborns, Ms. Jones. The other term is crude and unbecoming."

"Oh, you don't like it? Weird, I thought it was unanimous Slytherin vocabulary. I've even heard the muggleborn say it. Anyway, I always redirect the bullies away from juniors, but personally speaking, I prefer to just ignore it when it's too annoying. It's more effective than feeding the trolls..." Severus felt a slight pang. It seemed Gwenog managed the indignities of being a halfblood in Slytherin far better than he had as a student. "I'm going to do something real with my life, not coast on a family name or marry some rich idiot."

"Oh yes? What is your ambition then?"

She leaned forward, face alight with passion. "I'm going to be Captain of the Holyhead Harpies and lead them to the World Cup!"

Severus offered a genuine smile. It was an uncomplicated and honest ambition. Refreshing. "And what is your plan to accomplish that?"

She sat up straighter, shoulders back. She was proud. That was appropriate; she was actually earning her pride unlike the arrogant, privileged nincompoops. "I'm already quidditch captain. I'm going to make sure we win the Quidditch Cup both this year and next year. Professor Slughorn told me he'd be sure to let talent scouts know when my games are..." An easy promise for Horace to make, since the Hogwarts quidditch schedule was published in the Daily Prophet. Tickets were available for sale to the wizarding public, although Rolanda had some discretion as to who got them, with players' families and professional team representatives naturally given preference. He would point that out to her eventually so she would not wrongfully feel indebted to Horace. The wily old spider had only known her for two years before his retirement. He was impressed Horace had recognized her potential as a second year and decided to keep in touch with her, but Petrus was the one who appointed her the team captain. Severus highly doubted Horace had a direct hand in that.

He decided it was his turn to talk. He knew enough about the other fifth through seventh years to conclude Gwenog was far and away the best and most promising of the bunch. So he would invest in her as his ally in the quest to reform Slytherin House. Not that he would inform her of her role, not now, and probably never. "Ms. Jones, if it is indeed your wish not only to play professional quidditch but to lead your chosen team to the World Cup, then I must demand nothing but excellence from you. I surmise Professor Slughorn invited you into his club in your second year after your first quidditch match. That is an accomplishment, but mere talent on a broom is insufficient for your goals. You must demonstrate talent in leadership and in strategy on and off the pitch. Your goals for this year are therefore twofold: to win the Quidditch cup of course, but also to win the Head Girl badge for next year."

"Is there actually a competition for Head Boy and Head Girl, sir?"

"Of course there is. The competition is to win the Headmaster's approval."

"But he's biased in favor of the Gryffindors! Everyone knows that."

"Indeed," Severus agreed. "Life isn't fair. You will face many competitions in your life in which you are at a disadvantage. But you told me your goal is to win, not to 'play a good game' like a Hufflepuff or 'fight the fight' like a Gryffindor. Thus, you will learn how to triumph despite disadvantage." That was certainly what Severus had learned from his time in Slytherin.

"Do you want me to cheat somehow?" Gwenog asked, sounding offended.

"On the contrary, I believe you'll find the only way to win the Headmaster's approval is to honestly follow as many rules as possible. The trick with him is to figure out what the rules are." Gwenog was correct that Be a Gryffindor was definitely one of the rules, unfortunately, but that could be overcome. Albus would happily overlook minor rule breaking in service of a greater good.

"So, what are the rules?"

"You'll figure it out."

"That's..."

"Unfair? Yes, it is. He doesn't write his rules down like Professor McGonnagal and Caretaker Filch do, and he's inscrutable at the best of times. But if you can learn to successfully navigate around someone like him, someone who refuses to cave to traditional manipulation and intimidation tactics, someone who is suspicious of flattery, someone who makes himself unavailable to most, and using your own resources, not appeals to authority, that is the greatest skill I can teach you. Apart from brewing Felix Felicis, but that would definitely be considered cheating."

Gwenog's eyes glittered. "I think I understand, Professor."

"Good. I have high hopes for you, Ms. Jones."

---

The third week of September, he met with the fifth year prefects. They were not bad, but they were sad.

Erika Rath was the other quidditch team beater. She fit the athlete stereotype not at all. She was protective of the first- and second-years in the halls, although she tended to hex potential bullies rather than exercise her formal authority as a prefect. She had also started an informal study group for the first-years, which amounted to sitting at the same table as them, quietly doing her own work whilst fielding questions as-needed. She told him her goal in life was to be a wife and mother and provide well for her future children. She glared at him after this admission, daring him to scoff, until he calmly informed her his best friend was a homemaker as well. Her attitude made a lot of sense when he recalled the notes he had taken regarding her family over the summer: oldest of five children, her mother was arrested and sent to Azkaban for holding during the final year of the war, not for fighting or espionage but for simple theft. The woman was released after a month but could not recognize her youngest son when she returned home. The child died of neglect when Erika returned to Hogwarts, and the mother was returned to Azkaban, leaving the four siblings in the care of their father who had been paralyzed from the waist down some years previously after being caught in the crosshairs of a fight between aurors and Death Eaters. The experience made her too distrusting for Hufflepuff, too compromising for Gryffindor, and perfectly survive-at-all-cost determined for Slytherin. All he could think at the end of the meeting was that she would have been so much happier in Hufflepuff.

Felix Rosier did not have an ambitious or manipulative bone in his body, and he lacked the instincts for leadership that might have made his law-abiding ways influence the other, rowdier and meaner boys in his class. Instead, the studious heir to the Rosier family had no friends at all and spent most of his time either in the library or patrolling the halls with Erika. He never took points or gave detentions to his Slytherin tormenters who wanted him to be more like his father, a Death Eater who famously died in the war. He also never punished the cruelly misguided Gryffindor seventh years who called him a Death Eater and cruder variations thereof and hexed him in the halls. He just avoided them. Severus felt for the boy; it was his information that had led Alastor Moody to Evan Rosier and Anna Wilkes in the spring of 1980, when Felix was eleven. He couldn't say that, obviously, but he told the put-upon lad he didn't have to have an interest in politics and prestige, and that it was perfectly acceptable for him to take Professor Parkinson as his Slytherin role model for a long and satisfying academic career even as a scion of a Noble House.

In sum, meeting with the six Slytherin prefects individually had been so painful, Severus decided he couldn't bear to do such things more than strictly necessary.

Notes:

Severus will have his work cut out for him to keep control of the Slytherins without always falling back on reign-of-terror tactics that come naturally to him.

Chapter 28: Grandparents' Day

For Vernon Dursley's thirtieth birthday, the whole family decided to celebrate with a weekend outing to watch the Westfield Football club game at Woking Park. Vernon's parents were coming down from London, escorted by Marge.

"Vernon! Happy birthday, darling! You're looking well! And you, Petunia dear." Wheezing slightly from the effort of walking into the fish and chips shop and also speaking, Vernon's mother Dorothy Dursley turned away from the adults and bent to pinch Harry's cheek. "So this is the little nephew we've been hearing about for three years! Isn't he darling!" Harry blushed. The poor thing was unused to the attention of strangers. Petunia always whisked him and Dudley away from any potentially-too-interested adults outside their small neighborhood.

"Sort of scrawny," Vernon's father commented. He winced as he eased himself onto a chair. He had probably bumped his foot on the table; he was reportedly recovering from a gout flare.

"Oh, hush Herbert." Dorothy swatted his shoulder as she sat down next to him, and he winced again. "That just means he's easier to hug. Come to Granny, Harry!"

Harry seemed reluctant to let go of Petunia's hand, but she nudged him forwards. Dorothy pulled Harry up onto her lap for a hug, and he practically disappeared into her voluminous bosoms.

"Aww, what a sweet child."

Dudley, pouting slightly, trotted forwards to greet his grandparents. Herbert smiled at him instantly. "There's my boy! Proper, strapping lad you are, why, you look just like your father..." He shifted his cane to his left hand and ruffled Dudley's hair. Then gave him a candy.

"Really, Herbert, wait until after lunch," Petunia scolded as she snatched the candy up and pocketed it. She smiled at Dudley. "You'll get it back after you've finished lunch-lunch, sweetums." Dudley scowled up at her, but Dorothy distracted him by snagging his shoulders and pulling him over for a shower of kisses.

Harry took the opportunity to slip back off her lap and come hide behind Petunia again. Marge noticed, of course. She disapproved of Harry's shy moments, said he should have grown out of it by now, like Dudley. She opened her mouth to say so, but Petunia cut her off. "Harry, let's you and me go order food for everybody." Taking her nephew in hand, she strolled away towards the counter, leaving the crowd of Dursleys to their greetings. She heard Herbert mutter "hideous scar" behind them, and anger pooled in her chest. She acknowledged the feeling; she never got along well with Herbert. But as usual, she would not show it. She would be polite, as was only proper with a sick, bitter old man. Herbert was only in his fifties, but he had smoked heavily for thirty years and looked almost seventy with his balding scalp, purple-tinged skin, and mincing gait. The muscle he'd reputedly had as a boxer in his youth had turned entirely to flab with decades of desk-work.

She hoisted Harry up while they waited in line and murmured into his ear. "I can see you're nervous, sweet. It's okay to be nervous when you're meeting new people. In fact, it's sometimes wise to be wary." She recalled darkly that Harry would be famous for no good reason when he eventually reentered Lily's and Severus' world. He'd meet all kinds of people trying to ingratiate themselves with him. Better he not try to be friendly with everyone. But he had to live in Petunia's world for now, which meant he had to get along with her in-laws. "That said, you don't have to be afraid of Grandma and Grandpa Dursley. They're a lot like Auntie Marge. They're happy to meet you, but they'll not hesitate to speak their minds. Even if you're nervous, you don't have to look nervous, Harry, and they'll be impressed with you if you can be brave today."

Harry listened attentively, but he bit his lip. "Isn't that lying?" he asked softly.

Petunia blinked in surprise. She supposed, in a way, putting on a brave face was a little deceptive if he didn't feel brave, but it wasn't lying. It was just natural psychology, like a cat bristling its tail. She shook her head at Harry. "Lying is when you're trying to trick someone else. Lies that hurt are the kind you must never tell. Hiding the fact that you're nervous or afraid isn't the same. No one expects you to share everything that you're feeling or thinking all the time, Harry. Bravery is when you're afraid but you don't let that feeling control what you do. Like today. You might feel nervous, but do you want to hide behind me all day, or do you want to help your uncle celebrate his birthday?"

Harry grinned at her. "I want Uncle Vernon have the best birthday!"

"And you want to have a yummy lunch and watch a real, live, grownup football game?"

"Yes!"

"Good. That's my sweet Harry. Now, help me pick out what kind of fish we should order..." They returned to the table some minutes later with a large platter of food. There were two orders of plain salted chips with dipping vinegar, an order of cheesy chips, and orders of haddock, cod, and salmon, with several lemon wedges. Harry carried a small dish of pickles.

"Why, you've got yourself a little helper there, Petunia," Dorothy cooed approvingly.

"He is definitely a little helper," Petunia agreed.

"Earns his keep, eh?" Herbert grunted whilst loading up a plate of fried foods. He sounded grumpy and sarcastic. "He'll have to with a scarred face like that. People will think he's no good just looking at him." Petunia bit the inside of her lower lip, reminding herself that she did not show her anger in public.

"He's just a nipper, Dad," Vernon said warningly. "Same age as Dudley."

"And why've we never seen him before?"

"Because it's hard enough taking one toddler to London, let alone two so energetic as these," Petunia said drily.

Vernon joined in her defense. "Quite. The boys are so excited for the match today. Both quite the footballers, played all summer in the back yard."

Marge spoke around a mouthful of chips. "Ah! That explains it. I would've expected a boxing match for your thirtieth rather than football, Vernon, but I can see it's as hard for you to say no to these cuties as anyone else."

"You'll still be teaching Dudley to be a boxer," Herbert instructed Vernon sternly. "Football's well and good for children, but a real man's place is in the ring."

"Course I will, Dad. Dud's going to keep up the legacy at Smeltings. Captain of the team one day, eh Dudders?"

Dudley nodded vigorously, munching on his chips. Petunia was not confident he knew what Smeltings was.

"My dad was on a team in school," Harry said. He froze when Herbert swung vexed attention back to him.

"Football," Petunia supplied crisply before anyone could ask.

"Aww, no wonder he likes the game so much," Dorothy said.

Marge cackled. "Oh no, you can blame Joseph for the boys' football obsession. Petunia's half-brother, you know, from her father's first marriage." Petunia flushed slightly at Herbert's and Dorothy's upgoing eyebrows and pursed lips; she hadn't told them about Severus or about Dad's divorce before. It was poor form for them to find out like this.

Herbert frowned. "Well, so long as he learns the Dursley ways, I suppose there's no harm..."

"In Harry being a Potter?" Petunia finished coolly. Petunia would prefer her father-in-law be irritated with her rather than with defenseless Harry, and she got the distinct impression Herbert wasn't thrilled by the thought of Petunia having additional family around in general. Did he think she would corrupt Dudley's Dursley-ness somehow? Well, that was unacceptable. Petunia had never felt more sympathetic with Lily's decision to desert the family, if Lily had felt like Petunia did now... "My nephew will always be a Potter and an Evans first, Dursley second," she said. "Vernon and I are quite agreed on this."

All three senior Dursleys looked at Vernon, who nodded. Thank God for that man. Petunia arched an eyebrow at him, silently urging him to change the topic of conversation. Fortunately, after nearly seven years of marriage, shared glances were close to becoming entire conversations. Vernon speared another piece of cod. "Speaking of boxing, Dad, did you watch the match last week? What a knockout..."

Lunch progressed easier from then on. Herbert warmed up to Harry slightly while they watched the game, as Harry was perfectly willing to run back and forth to the concessions stand on his behalf multiple times, fetching soda, candy, and ice pops. Petunia let him go alone, since the stand was so close she could watch Harry the whole time and indeed almost make out the conversation with the proprietor. The in-laws all approved of his ability to accurately count money at such a young age. Harry glowed at Marge's praise. "We learned at pre-school, Dudley and me both!" After the game, they had birthday cake at a picnic table in the park, the boys proudly demonstrated their coin-identification and counting abilities with the change in Herbert's wallet, and Vernon opened his presents. Then it was time for everyone to go home.

Dorothy took Petunia aside before they left. "Don't mind Herbert. We both think Harry's a sweet little boy, now we've met him. Almost as sweet as Dudders... You know how Herbert gets when his gout's flared up..."

Petunia neither confirmed nor denied that. Herbert might be struggling through the day because of his gout, but his gout was always his excuse to be always ill-tempered. She resolved not to ever let herself make that kind of excuse for her own family. It helped no one. But it also wouldn't help to fuss about it today. "Perhaps you should take him to the doctor," she suggested sweetly instead. "Lovely to see you, Dorothy. I'll call you sometime about Christmas plans."

"Wonderful." They kissed eachother's cheeks goodbye with false cheer.

As soon as Harry and Dudley had delivered their own goodbyes, Petunia marched them both over to the car and loaded them into the back seat. She breathed deeply in the fall air for a moment, deliberately letting go of as much of her irritation as she could, then got in the car. Vernon climbed in the drivers' seat moments later. She smiled tiredly at him. "Did you have a good birthday, darling?"

Vernon turned the key in the ignition. "Actually, I think I left my favorite things at home this morning," he mused.

"Oh?"

"Peace and quiet, your cooking, and Sev's firewhiskey chocolates."

Petunia laughed at that and kissed his cheek. Vernon's mustache twitched, and he winked at her. She twisted around to look at the boys. "How about you two, did you have a good day?"

"Mostly," Harry answered cautiously.

Dudley had no reservations. "The game was awesome!"

Harry grinned. "Yeah, it was."

"Taking you boys out to your first football game was the best present I could ask for," Vernon agreed.

Petunia sighed contentedly, the strain of the in-laws melting away now that it was just their family again. "Happy birthday, dear. I love you."

Vernon reached over to squeeze her hand. "Love you, too."

"And I love you!" Harry piped up.

"And me!"

"Me more!"

They fell to good-natured squabbling, and Petunia didn't even mind.

Notes:

it would be weird if the grandparents remained completely out of the picture the whole time, even if they do live somewhere else and have health issues. I wanted an excuse to continue almost always leaving the senior Dursleys out of the story, so I decided Mr. Dursley has both gout and COPD, and Mrs. Dursley has heart problems complicated by diabetes and obesity, meaning they don't leave the house much because of mobility problems and shortness of breath, unfortunately. Also, Marge is a perfect blend of her father's overly-judgmental and her mother's overly-saccharine natures. As a side note, while Grandparents Day is celebrated in the fall in both the US and UK now, it wasn't introduced in the UK until 1990.

Chapter 29: The Very Scary Werewolf

Severus did take a break from the headache of Fixing Slytherin after his meeting with the fifth year prefects. He had plenty of other things to keep him busy between homework grading and the ridiculous amount of inane correspondence with his Slytherins' parents. Merlin were these children entitled! It seemed certain offenders wrote home to complain every time they lost points or got detention, and the stupid parents then wrote to Severus to demand he correct the injustice. He found himself exercising against the parents the acid wit he so desperately fought to contain during actual classes.

I am aggrieved to confirm Timothy did indeed receive detention in herbology for insisting repeatedly that venomous tentacula leaves are used only in poisons despite Professor Sprout's assertions to the contrary and her tyrannical instructions to desist and move on. I leave it to the estimable prerogative of your own personage, descendant of renowned herbologist Beaumont Marjoribanks, to correct Professor Sprout in this matter. The despicable woman must have misled me as well, for I was under the impression that venomous tentacula leaves are used in several non-poisonous potions including certain fertilizers, a purgative that neutralizes several natural poisons, and a potion to prevent convulsions. I encourage you to write to the publishers of  One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi,  Magical Drafts and Potions,  Advanced Potion Making,  and  Most Potente Potions , all of which contain this same error...

His latest correspondence was interrupted by a knock on his door. "Enter," he called briskly.

The door opened, and the first-year werewolf girl Chiara Lobosca bounded into his office. She ran right around his desk and hugged him. He was completely stunned and narrowly restrained the urge to violently throw her off or hex her.

"What in the name of Merlin and Morgana do you think you are doing?!"

She beamed up at him with tears in her eyes. Severus' surprise turned to panic. He didn't like dealing with crying children. Harry had only done it once so far in his experience, when he had tripped and skinned his knee this summer. The injury mysteriously improved with a kiss from Petunia. Chiara in no way appeared hurt however. Why was she crying? Why was she smiling while crying? Why was she in his office smiling while crying? As if in answer to his unvoiced questions, the girl finally let go and thrust a card up at his face. The front of it clearly read "THANK YOU!"

"Oh, Professor Snape! Thank you so, so much!"

"For what?"

"For the Wolfsbane potion! I've never transformed with it before! It was amazing! It still hurt, but I was back to normal the next day almost! I saw Madam Pomphrey today, and she says I don't have any more permanent damage this time! That's never happened before! Thank you!"

"Ah."

"You're my favorite professor, Professor! I promise I'm going to study as hard as I can and be your best student! I'm going to become a master potioneer like you and brew the potion for all the other werewolves! Professionally! And then maybe the laws can loosen up, and if everyone is taking it, then maybe eventually there won't be any more bites and the disease will be gone!"

Severus gradually managed to disentangle himself from her grabby arms as she continued her happy babbling. As he listened, he realized with a pang Chiara was probably another 'Slytherin who got away.' Chiara was the kind of naïve but motivated girl who could really benefit from the guidance of Slytherin House-as-it-should-be if she ever hoped to achieve her grandiose ambitions.

He would have to overlook his discomfort with the fact that she was a werewolf. The world would be better for it.

"I'm glad," he said. "Your goals will take years, decades to realize, but they are far from impossible if you plan well and gather the right resources." Chiara's eyes widened in star-struck excitement."And I'll help you," he said impulsively. "You can start with this." He opened his file drawer and pulled out Madam Pince's list of the potions section of the library. He copied it with a quick wand-flourish and gave it a tap to rearrange all the titles in the order in which Chiara should read them. "I do not expect you to read all of these, not for many years. But if you seek to become a Master Potioneer, you need a theoretical understanding of potions beyond the standard Hogwarts curriculum, and it is best to start young. Therefore, once you are done with all your assigned work, from all your professors, then you can work your way through this list, in order. Write down any questions you have. There will be no neglect of your other subjects." He paused, gauging her expression. She still looked hopeful rather than intimidated or overwhelmed. Good. "If you do well in your classes for the next few months, then perhaps you may join me sometimes in my lab, to observe and maybe eventually help with the monthly Wolfsbane brew."

She squealed in delight, the sound loud and grating on the ears. "Thankyou-thankyou-thankyou!"

"Quite. Now get out."

"Yes, sir!" She scurried away, clutching the list of potions books to her chest. At least she did not slam the door on her way out.

He savored a few moments of blissful silence before looking at the card in his hands. Purple paper, pink THANK YOU!, decorated with white hearts and the words followed by a veritable forest of unnecessary exclamation marks. Egad. He opened it to read the message.

Thank you so, so much, Professor Snape! My parents and I were so excited when we heard in August you would be making the Wolfsbane potion for me every month, because we could never afford it before, and we were ever so afraid of the worst happening and me causing an accident. Now that I know what the potion is like, I understand you're not just making me safe for the other students, you are  saving my life!  I know because of you, I will be able to study harder and learn better and actually  do  something with my life.

Thank you from me, and from my Mum and Dad, and from my baby brother! I hope he gets to be in Slytherin when he comes to Hogwarts!

Love,

Chiara

Merlin, she dotted all the 'i's with hearts too. He closed the card again with a snort, but he still stowed it carefully in his pocket. He would put it in the box in his quarters with the rest of the cards various Hufflepuff students had sent him last academic year.

Later that evening, he wrote to Petunia, How bad would it be if I put on a sign on my office door saying 'Attempting to hug a professor without explicit permission will be punished with detention'? -S

Minutes later, Hahahahahaha! What? -P

Briefly, Severus explained his encounter with Chiara.

That's so cute! She sounds sweet. You should probably tell her about persnal boundaries next time she shows up in your office, but putting up a sign is an invitation for the little darlings to ambush and hug you for a lark I'm afraid. Dudders has been doing something similar lately, holding onto my leg when my hands are full of laundry or what-not -P

That's what I thought, hoped I was wrong -S

No, you just thought I would find it funny and condescended to tell me for that reason -P

You're welcome -S

Thank you -P

Notes:

Severus doesn't hate all werewolves, just the evil ones and Remus Lupin... And yes, he kept the "Get Well Soon" card and every single condolence letter the students sent him even if he tossed all the ones from the adults. Anyone would. The reasoning is obvious and perfectly logical, *Sev glares dramatically, daring to be contradicted and told he has a soft heart.*

Chapter 30: Break Room

Severus was still thinking about his first years when he let himself into the staff room. He poured a glass of wine and settled into the battered leather couch.

He did not understand where he had gone wrong.

Meeting with the first years was, unfortunately, strictly necessary for his plans to rehabilitate his house. He met with them as a group in order to limit the pain, both theirs and his. He had planned ahead with bribes: a platter of biscuits and a jug of pumpkin juice, four extra chairs across from him that even had thin seat cushions. He had troubled to brighten his office slightly in hopes the collection of rare and volatile potions ingredients would intimidate them less that way. Certain ingredients could lose their potency with excessive light exposure, but a few hours of brighter-than-normal was permissible and worth it for the cause.

And even so, they had arrived as a nervous group, already afraid of him after barely a month. Eleven-year-olds all came to Hogwarts with instinctive herd tendencies, but this seemed excessive. He had counted ten minutes of fearful muttering amongst themselves outside the door before one of them mustered up the courage to knock. The meeting had proved completely counterproductive. He learned nothing about them he did not already know from his advanced research and his observations in potions class and at dinner. The conversation was painfully stilted at first. Even that was better than the devolved conclusion, wherein Ismelda Murk continuously needled at his reputation, his history during the war, his family, and his mode of dress, until he finally snapped. He had made her, and incidentally Barnaby Lee, cry in his righteous anger, and assigned the girl detention.

Severus sighed inwardly. He blamed the seventh years. Or possibly the Gryffindors. Hell, he blamed Albus; almost every happening in the wizarding world was the old meddler's fault to some degree, so blaming him was perfectly justified. Mostly of course, he blamed himself. Merlin, he should be better than this. He shouldn't let an eleven-year-old play his emotions so thoroughly, even if her temperament was cut of the same cloth as Sirius Black.

He would try again. Sometime. After he had found a better strategy to talk to children this age. His experiment with smiling at them in class had not worked, or at least not well enough.

The door opened, and Pomona and Argus walked in, laughing about something or other. He supposed he could ask his colleagues for advice. He'd rather ask Petunia, though. Maybe she could arrange for him to practice talking to that neighbor girl, someone who wouldn't have horrible preconceptions about him...

"Ah, Severus! You know, I've been meaning to talk to you." Pomona settled into the couch next to him while Argus rummaged around in the cabinets for something. She reached up. Her hand blurred as she pulled the disillusioned Sorting Hat off her head to comb her fingers through her gray curls and mop her sweaty forehead before sweeping the thing back on. "Dratted thing is so hot in the greenhouses! Why couldn't Godric have enchanted a straw hat?" With amusement, he watched her expressive face in its silent argument with the Hat. It probably took offense to the suggestion of being made of some other material or style. At least, as much offense as a not-actually-sentient magical article of clothing could take. Severus eyed the visual distortion on her head warily. Pomona had gotten the thing first, but he would be taking it starting in November. It may have been his idea, but he was not looking forward to wearing a felted wool hat for hours on end in a steaming laboratory. Come to think of it, the Hat itself might object to being exposed to potentially hazardous fumes too. He could probably get away with wearing it only during lecture-based classes, meal times, and whilst grading in his office.

"Observe only, no commentary, or I'm taking you to meet my chomping cabbages," she muttered. He smirked. It seemed he was not the only one fantasizing about destroying the Hat now. She smiled cheerily again, but it seemed a little forced. "Sorry Severus, the constant little voice in my head is a little distracting. Anyway, I wanted to talk to you about one of my first years."

Merlin, not more of them today. He couldn't take it. "What about them?" he growled.

She swatted his knee. "That. You shouldn't be so hard on them!"

"What did I do?" He hadn't even had class with the Hufflepuff first years this week! He pinched the bridge of his nose against the migraine he knew would be coming this evening.

"Now, now, it's about Ms. Lobosca."

Severus looked up in surprise at the non-sequitur. Chiara was the one first year he was sure liked him. "Is there a problem with the Wolfsbane protocol? I understood the transformation went smoothly."

"No, no, you're quite right about that! All according to plan. No concerns there. No changes needed for next week. My badgers are perfectly understanding of course. Only risk will be if students from other houses hear about it and get curious to see the wolf or something, which my prefects know to be on the alert for. No, I just think you must have scared her a bit too much. She's spending far too much time in the library, hardly making friends with the other girls, and Irma tells me it's almost always potions books she's looking at. It's too early in the year for any of my students to be so study-crazy, particularly first years."

Severus arched an eyebrow. It had only been only two weeks since Chiara accosted him. She shouldn't have had enough time to read more than one extracurricular book, if that. She really must be going overboard if the matter came to Pomona's and even Irma's attention so quickly. He sighed. "You have it backwards, Pomona. She's not afraid of potions class, she's overly enthusiastic. She was so enthralled with the positive experience of the Wolfsbane potion, she told me she's decided to become a master potioneer herself." He pulled a face. "Like me."

Pomona started giggling and lifted her hand to her mouth. She blushed suddenly and pulled the Sorting Hat back off. "Hush you," she told it. Severus glared at it for good measure. "That's sweet. Did you have to assign her quite so much extra credit work to put her off, though?"

"I'm not trying to put her off," he snapped indignantly. "I didn't tell her to go spend every waking moment in the library! I gave her a ranked list of useful potions texts in the library, but I was very clear that she had to show she could do well in her other classes before I would consider..."

Pomona was grinning widely at him now, and Argus' dry laughter interrupted. "Got yourselfs a single-minded one, eh, Professors?" He dropped into one of the other chairs, cradling a mug of tea in his gnarled fingers. "Point her out at dinner. I'll watch for her on my patrols, make sure she doesn't try pulling all-nighters. Usually a Ravenclaw thing, but..." He shook his balding head and sipped his tea.

Pomona chuckled too. "Well, if it's just enthusiasm rather than terror, I'm sure she'll settle down to a more sustainable study schedule after a few weeks once the shine wears off a little."

Severus couldn't keep himself from frowning. He probably could have handled Chiara better, but he didn't want her excitement and ambition to wane either. He had never gotten such interest in his subject from a first year before. It was nice, even if it was a Hufflepuff. "I wish my own students could be so enthusiastic," he muttered gloomily. The four Slytherin first years were probably going to be cowering behind their cauldrons again on Thursday, avoiding both eye contact with him and splashes from the brasher Gryffindor students.

"You're doing fine as Head of House, Severus," Pomona chided him.

"There's always a learning curve," Argus agreed. "First year as a Head is rough, but next year will be better, and the year after that will be easy." The aging caretaker sounded absolutely confident, and Severus supposed he had no reason to doubt the man. Albus, Minerva, Rubeus, and Binns were the only staff who had been at Hogwarts longer at this point.

Pomona eyed Argus for a moment, then winked at Severus and grinned. She took out her wand and tapped the Hat to remove the disillusionment charm. "Argus, would you... be interested in trying this thing on?"

Severus' eyes widened and flew to watch the caretaker. Argus half-choked on his tea. "Would I what?" Incredible. How had Argus lived in the castle with unrestricted access at all hours, for decades, and never once tried the Hat on? Clearly not a Slytherin.

Pomona extended the hat towards him. "You were never Sorted, but you're a fixture of the school!"

Argus flushed the same purple as Vernon Dursley often did. "I'm not a student. I'm not even a wizard. Why should I care about all that?"

Oh, he cared. A lot. It was written in his deliberate scowl, irregularly tapping foot, white-knuckled fingers, and defensively hunched posture. "Come on, Argus, aren't you curious?"

"You are. I don't need to know."

Severus leaned forwards. "You don't need to, but you could. It's not like it would get out beyond this room. The Hat never tells anyone what it discusses with an individual during Sorting, not even the Headmaster."

"It's not allowed."

Severus scoffed. "There's no rule against it. If you can find one, I'll drink one of Mr. Prewett's potions. They're terrible."

"...What if it doesn't work, though? I don't have magic to power it." The old man couldn't hide his longing through his habitual gruffness.

"Legilimency doesn't work like that," Severus told him softly. "The Hat is enchanted to see your thoughts. The magic is in the hat. It is your mind that makes it work, not your magic. A muggle could hear it." An interesting thought, that. He would have to remember it when the Hat came to him next month.

"Come on, Argus, no one else is here, just us," Pomona cajoled.

Argus debated internally a bit longer, then suddenly snatched the Hat from Pomona's hand and jammed it on his head, eyes screwed shut. Both professors leaned forwards with bated breath. Severus was thinking hard, trying to predict the outcome from what he knew of Argus. He had already determined not Slytherin. Probably not Ravenclaw; though reasonably sharp, Argus had never struck Severus as an intellectual nor possessed of much curiosity. Gryffindor for braving a castle full of magical teenagers for so many years without any magical defenses of his own? Or...

"HUFFLEPUFF!" the Hat suddenly declared. For willingly doing manual labor for so many years and being too loyal to his thankless job to abandon it despite decades of student harassments, Severus supposed.

"Yes!" Pomona cried, pumping her fist in the air. "I knew you'd be mine!" Argus blushed furiously as he offered the hat back to her.

"Congratulations," Severus said silkily.

"Don't start," the old man mumbled.

"On what? Between the three of us, I think we can all agree, the Hufflepuffs are the best."

"Severus! Such treachery?!"

"From a staff perspective, Pomona. I am proud of my house, but you must admit, your job is probably easier than mine at the moment."

Argus laughed again, a little wheezily. "That I must agree with. Hufflepuffs don't fight in the corridors and they clean up after themselves."

"Nor do they plan your downfall."

Pomona grinned. "Badgers are the best, aren't they?"

"Gryffindors are the worst," Argus said with a dark grin.

"Thank you," Severus said.

Pomona wagged a finger at them. "Now, now, it's not nice to-"

"Speaking as someone who was almost sorted into Gryffindor," Argus interjected pointedly, eyes dancing.

Severus snickered at Pomona's torn expression. "Same," he said. Argus raised his mug in silent toast.

Pomona rolled her eyes. "Fine, they are. From a staff point of view only."

Notes:

Filch is sort of an odd character when you stop and think about him, eh? The cleaning half of his job makes no sense with the existence of house elves, except to let the house elves stay invisible I suppose, so really his main job must just be keeping order in the corridors despite not actually being a wizard. No wonder the mutual hatred between him and the students. Thanks as always for the reviews.

Chapter 31: The Great Pumpkin

Petunia Dursley had never been much impressed with Halloween as a holiday. It was always nice as a child to receive sweets, but she did not like getting the grime of slimy squash innards all over her hands, and the traditional festival in Cokeworth was creepy, in her opinion. She did not like the young men's painted faces, and she hated their ill-conceived pranks. She did not like the costumed spirits, with their wispy veils and their animal-bone heads and their dramatic threats to abscond with children. She did not like the huge, too-powerful bonfire in the square threatening to kindle the nearby homes.

Lily had loved it and used to scamper through the festival with Severus, she remembered, before they both left for Hogwarts.

Petunia preferred Guy Fawkes Day, as did Vernon. Much more civilized.

Dudley and Harry, being four and at pre-school and thus highly aware of any and all holidays for the first time in their young lives, were absolutely enamored of the concept of Halloween. It seemed they had watched a movie called It's the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown, and thus gained a very Americanized impression of the day. Dudley was very interested in the idea of trick-or-treating. Harry wanted to make costumes and jack-o-lanterns. They were so vocal about it, Petunia relented and bought a bag of mixed chocolate candies and two medium pumpkins. She could always cook the pumpkins once the boys got tired of their artwork.

In the afternoon, Petunia chopped off the tops of the two pumpkins and set the boys to scooping out the seeds and drawing their carving designs. Dudley immediately despised the cold, slimy texture just as she did and was ready to give up after just a few seconds, until Harry just levitated the innards out of both pumpkins. "There! We all stay clean!"

"How you do dat?" Dudley asked, even as he started drawing wobbly eyes and teeth on his own pumpkin.

Harry shrugged.

Petunia sighed inwardly. She appreciated the help in this case, but Harry was getting a little too obvious and comfortable with his accidental magic. "This is our family secret, boys. Never tell anyone else but Daddy and Uncle Sev. Okay?"

"Okay," they chorused agreeably. She wondered if they actually understood what they were supposed to keep secret.

"And you can't show your friends at school, Harry. If you want to help out anyone at school, you have to use your hands. Don't just wish things to happen."

"Okay. But what if it dirty?"

"Even then."

His face scrunched up. "But you hate dirty."

She nodded. "I know, I'm always trying to keep things clean. But Harry, keeping the secret is more important. I'd hate the secret getting out even more than I'd hate mud on the carpet."

"Whadabou poo on carpet?" Dudley exclaimed, and they both collapsed in giggles.

She winced at the thought. "Still not as bad as the secret getting out," she grumbled reluctantly.

"Whadabou dog poo?"

"Or cat pee!"

"Or-"

"Drop it and finish your pumpkins."

"Yes, Mum."

They didn't drop it. They continued with potty humor all day. Dudley even brought it up at dinner, proclaiming the gravy looked like "poo water," which led Harry to call Dudley a pig since he clearly enjoyed eating feces. Rather than arguing or throwing a tantrum at that, Dudley plunged his face into the food on his plate and snorted loudly, blowing splatters of gravy all over his placemat. Fed up with their antics, Petunia had barely restrained herself from yelling at her son. She merely fumed silently as she got up to retrieve a damp cloth to clean up the disgusting mess.

Thankfully, Vernon picked up on her mood. He told Dudley off for making more work for her and wiped their son's face. After the meal, he took charge of both boys for the rest of the evening and set them to making Halloween masks out of some old paper plates and string. This was something new and interesting to them, so it kept them distracted quite well.

Disgruntled with her children's mischief and enthusiasm for a mediocre holiday, Petunia wrote a quick note to Severus about the boys' activities and asked what wizards did for the day. Then she set to cleaning. There was nothing on earth that could right all wrongs like a good scrub could. She was much calmer by the time she had finally purged the table of its gravy and the kitchen counters and cabinets of all the little smears of pumpkin sludge that had propagated throughout the afternoon.

She checked the journal again after she was finished... and had to sit down quickly.

Are you asking in general or with regards to you sister? -S

Oh, God. How had it slipped her mind? Halloween wasn't just some holiday any more. It was the anniversary of Lily's murder, anniversary of the night Harry came to them. Three years. How could she just forget like that, and be thinking about such trivialities as- as pumpkin carving and candy? She bit her lip. Harry didn't know, obviously. She wouldn't ruin his silly Halloween this year, but eventually, she would need to tell him. A feeling of dread washed over her as she imagined some not-distant-enough-future where she held Harry's hand at Lily's and James' graves...

Both, I guess -P Petunia chewed on her lip as she waited for Severus to respond. God, she didn't even know where Lily was buried. She'd never been to their house, couldn't remember what town it was in, if she ever knew. It wasn't in that letter from Albus Dumbledore, and Mother had told her not to come to the funeral, for safety. She would have to find out. Surely, Severus would know. Or it might be in some of Mother's old things up in the attic...

Surprisingly, the Cokeworth festival is somewhat similar to the older wizarding traditions, though the significance is different. Adults in traditional families like my mother's celebrate Samhain rather than Halloween. The bonfire serves for ritual magic, however, and the spirits are real, either conjured or ritually summoned ones. All manner of ritual magic is more powerful on Samhain. -S

Petunia felt sick. Is that why they were murdered that day? -P

Possible, but I don't think so. So far as I or anyone could determine, it was a crime of opportunity more than anything else. The Potters' house was warded with the Fidelius charm, meaning no one could find it without admission directly from the individual appointed as secret-keeper. I am quite confident that the location remained hidden until mere days before the attack. When she did not write anything back, he continued, The Ministry held a memorial at the site of their house in Godric's Hollow in the morning on Halloween last year. I believe they plan to do it annually. -S

Hard to imagine a government-run service for Lily. Did you go? -P

No. I was working... and it would have been painful, I think. There's a lot of wizards celebrating that day, for the end of the war you know, rather than grieving. They're not wrong exactly, so I'd rather just avoid them -S

They don't celebrate that at the school do they? -P It would be horrible for Harry to have to focus on his parents' death at a party.

No, Halloween at Hogwarts is pretty informal. There's a feast for supper, but that's about it. Children aren't deemed mature enough to participate in ritual magic, so Samhain traditions are out. I am doing the pumpkin-head potions competition this year, as you suggested -S

Petunia grinned. She had almost forgotten about that. You'll have to get a picture of the winners and show me. -P

I'll see what I can do. I am looking forward to tomorrow. The preliminary formula submissions the students handed in last week were quite entertaining. Some just changed the color or size of the pumpkin heads, but some ambitious and creative students are aiming for more impressive magical effects -S

Petunia considered for a moment before writing, Are you alright? -P

Why would I not be? -S

I know how much you miss her. I was just thinking earlier- She scratched that out. This was a delicate thing to talk about, even moreso with someone like Severus who was so...touchy. It was obvious he hadn't forgotten that Lily had died on Halloween. She had to be very precise with how she talked to him. It feels weird to celebrate with Harry, when I'm thinking about Lily. I wondered if you felt the same way -P

There was a long pause, and then, I felt like that for at least the first year or more after she died, as if I didn't have the right to move on and be happy. -S

Petunia's eyes widened as she read. Severus was unfailingly honest, but rarely so frank with her. He excelled at the art of speaking without saying. I remember. You were so on-edge every time I saw you. You don't feel that way any more, though? -P

Sometimes, yes. But I think knowing you and Harry has helped a lot. It's just... nevermind -S

Oh no, Severus Snape, there will be no clamming up now. She decided to guess what he was thinking to keep the conversation going. Better for Harry if his 'uncle' isn't wallowing in grief all the time? -P

Pretty much. Whatever. Anyway, you shouldn't feel guilty for living your life. Lily wouldn't have wanted that for you, or for Harry. -S

Damnit, the clam was shut! She would try prodding again, just once. Such empathy, Sev. I'm so impressed and proud of you! -P

Shut it -S

Just lightening the mood before you decide to close yourself back up for daring to display human emotion. I am proud of you, and glad you like me enough to write so freely when I know it isn't easy for you. -P

Because I plan to blacken this page with ink blots when the conversation is concluded -S

You wouldn't -P

I would -S

I'd better take a picture of it quick then. I don't want to lose the evidence -P

I hate you -S

No, you don't. But she decided to back off. He would probably get more defensive and snippy the more she pushed. She had learned that last year. And thank you, Sev. For the advice. I won't let painful memories ruin the present. -P And he shouldn't either.

Good. By the way, I have a gift for you I would like to personally deliver sometime next month, if you are willing. -S

Sure. What's the occasion? -P

Opportunity and convenience -S

Hmph. You can come over the weekend after next, if you like -P

That will work -S

See you then. Good night -P

The conversation at an end, Petunia set the journal aside and went to the bathroom to retrieve her other purchase from this morning. Sev was right. It may be Halloween and the anniversary of her sister's murder tomorrow, but Petunia was a practical woman with a family. Her family was more important than her vague feelings of guilt and grief. She followed the instructions on the packet, then set it aside while she brushed her teeth and set her hair in curlers for the night.

Then she looked back at the pregnancy test and saw two lines. Pure joy and excitement bubbled up within her. She squealed and danced a little in place. "Vernon!" she called happily. Actually, it was more like an undignified screech, but she didn't care. Vernon jogged down the hall from Dudley's room immediately, heavy footfalls slightly shaking the floor.

"Pet?"

She thrust the positive test under his nose, grinning fiercely. His eyes bugged out a little, and his face turned pink. He quickly closed the distance between them and swept her into a strong hug before planting a firm kiss on her lips. "We're pregnant?" he asked in a low voice when they broke apart.

"We're pregnant," she confirmed.

His mustache rippled as his smile widened to match hers. "How far along?"

"Six weeks."

"We'll call to schedule your first appointment tomorrow. I'll ask Arabella to watch the boys. I can't wait to tell my parents..."

"After the doctors' appointment," Petunia said firmly. The pregnancy with Dudley had been uneventful, but Petunia was well aware that things could go wrong, especially early on. They would tell people only once they knew the fetus was healthy.

"Of course, Pet. Whatever you say. You are queen of this house from now until... May?"

"June," she corrected, counting the months in her head. "And I'm always queen of this house."

Vernon chuckled and kissed her again.

Notes:

yay, babies! I really enjoyed writing the "potty humor" lol.

Chapter 32: The Heir of Slytherin

Severus walked the dim corridors of the dungeon level with staid purpose. He had spent the whole Halloween feast rehearsing this confrontation with his students in his mind. As he counseled Petunia, he had set other thoughts aside.

"Everyone sees what you appear to be, not who you are," he said softly. It was the current pass phrase for the Slytherin common room. Going through Petrus' files, he had discovered the hidden door chose its passwords not at random, and not from the heads of its prefects as he had thought when he was a student, but instead as short quotations from an insipid book in the library of quotes and family mottos by famous purebloods. Severus had wasted little time in modifying the charm to quote from a muggle political philosopher instead. Some of those quotations were pretty bad as well, but he had few political treatises to hand.

He was hit by a wave of sound as the door opened. It seemed his Slytherins were having a party. That or the seventh years were attempting a Samhain ritual against the rules. There were many voices either singing badly or chanting, as well as stamping and clapping. Severus was reasonably certain it was supposed to be singing, so he remained calm and did not yet draw his wand as he walked into the luxurious common room. He grew slightly more concerned when he observed the students were all clustered on the far side of the room, ringed around a central object that flickered eerily in time to the beat.

Then he reached the edge of the crowd and was able to look over the children's heads and recognize the source of the flickering. He smiled. "Good evening," he said. A few of the students nearest to him spun around and shrieked in alarm, which effectively disrupted the party. The singing and stamping died. The flickering settled into a steady glow from second year Kirley Duke's silver, pumpkin-shaped head. He must have saved the leftovers from his cauldron earlier. Severus continued walking, students parting before him until he reached the open center of the ring. "You will be glad to know that no one is in trouble, and I have no intention of interrupting your evening for more than a few minutes. Congratulations again on a unique Pompion potion, Mr. Duke. The light effect synchronizing with ambient sounds is clearly the envy of your classmates." Duke's potion surely would have won the competition if not for the Gryffindors' concerted anti-Slytherin campaign. Next year, he would ensure the competitors' identities were concealed to negate such bias. Personally, Severus was most impressed by a Ravenclaw's potion that turned her head not into a mere pumpkin but rather a flesh-colored and knobby squash that eerily resembled a bald Filius Flitwick, especially once she colored the eyes with her wand and put on a hat. She had essentially created a much simpler, much safer, much quicker alternative to polyjuice for magical disguise. He would help her publish her potion formula in a reputable journal.

"Th-thank you, sir," Kirley stuttered from within his pumpkin.

Severus inclined his head to the twelve-year-old, then looked out to the rest of the Snakes. "Before I leave you all to your celebration, there is another, more serious competition to announce. This is for all years. Every Slytherin shall participate, but this will remain secret and sacred within our house."

"What is it, Professor?" Gwenog Jones asked.

"I'm thinking of it as the Heir of Slytherin competition, though I am open to other titles. The point is to embody the virtues of our house. Ambition. Achievement. Cunning. Resourcefulness. Et cetera. At the end of the year, one student will be acknowledged for their excellence."

"What will they win?" someone in the back piped up.

"A flask of the legal, non-amorous potion of their choice, a bar of the best chocolate Honeydukes has to offer, a stand-out letter of recommendation, and, much more importantly, the respect of all of you."

"How do we win?" Gwenog asked, eyes alight with nascent ambition. She had taken his words to heart at the start of term, unlike most of the layabouts in the sixth and seventh year cohort.

He gestured broadly. "Convince your peers you deserve it. Convince me you deserve it. If you somehow without giving away the game manage to convince someone not of our house to comment to me in perfect candor 'my goodness, so-and-so must be the greatest representative of House Slytherin in decades,' so much the better." He grinned. "The winner will be at my discretion, and I promise you, I will be fair. I have few rules: firstly, don't let me catch you breaking any rules, mine or otherwise. Secondly, I am the authority in this competition, and in this house. My goal is to see all of you succeed, and if any of you think to rise in my favor by sabotaging others, particularly those younger than you, then you risk working at cross-purposes to myself. Thirdly, as stated before, this stays between us. Telling anyone else about the competition, whether your family, another Professor, or another student in a different house, is forbidden." His eyes darted around the room a moment before he decided he had made his offer tantalizing enough. He nodded and turned to leave as softly as he had come in. "I'll leave you to it."

---

Severus finished the last bit of grading, disillusioned the Sorting Hat on his head to hide it from the students, and opened his office door to go to lunch, only for a bolt of pale yellow light to flash under his nose. It took only a quick glance both ways down the corridor to determine what was happening.

"Locomotor Mortis," Severus spat. Seventh-year Vivian Vandamme froze in the act of launching a bat-bogey hex at a cowering Elizabeth Tuttle. He stared at his students in quiet rage for a minute. Augusta Selwyn sniggered from further down the corridor as Elizabeth scrambled away to rejoin the other first years, a difficult feat with her legs stuck together from Vivian's half-body bind curse. Severus shot Augusta a glare before turning back to Vivian. "You... simpleton," he said softly. The situation was absurd. Not only had the stupid, blood purist twat decided to cross him less than a week after he specifically warned the upper years not to bully their juniors, but she did it in the hall right outside his office. He was almost as angry about her idiocy as he was about her cruelty. He snapped his wand at Elizabeth to remove the half-body bind. "Twenty points from Slytherin, Ms. Vandamme. And detention. Ms. Tuttle, you and your friends may await me in my office while I deal with this. Ms. Selwyn! Stay."

The first years scuttled to obey. "Ooh, you're much more fun to sit on than Pomona," the Sorting Hat whispered in his ear. He fought not to roll his eyes at the Hat's annoying commentary. He had worn it for barely a week, and already he was fed up with the constant presence. Two months with this thing was going to be a nightmare. Thank Merlin it had agreed not to attend the Potions practical classes.

Severus released the binding on Vivian's face only, allowing her to talk. "Speak."

Vivian rolled her eyes. "The halfblood girl tripped me, Professor Snape!"

"Did she now?"

"She ran right past me with no respect for who I am and jostled me."

Severus grinned darkly. Vivian's outraged expression faltered. "And who are you, Ms. Vandamme, that an accidental encounter with an excited eleven-year-old merits magical vengeance?"

"Such snark!" the Hat quietly interjected.

"I- I am the daughter of Darius Vandamme and Lucille Louvrex! My family is-"

"Irrelevant."

The Hat chuckled in approval.

She sputtered and almost hissed at him, "You... upstart half-muggle! How dare you think to control the House of Slytherin, you dirt! People like you and that mudblood's daughter don't belong here!"

Severus arched an eyebrow and smirked at her. "And in order to uphold the purity of our house, you forget all sense of cunning and disobey my edicts at my very door. Tut tut. Your cause is doomed if its advocates cannot think or control themselves. Ah, but I suppose I am also in the wrong and should do more to accommodate the grandness of your blood... You pathetic girl. Your insults mean nothing to me. They are but the cries of a powerless child, and so bereft of bite. Now, who shall you serve your detention with? We must make sure you are supervised by someone with sufficient purity, I suppose, so clearly not myself. Perhaps Professor McGonagall? Oh, but you must not associate with Gryffindor, mustn't you? Professor Sprout may do..." He snapped his fingers in feigned sudden inspiration. "I know, Caretaker Filch. His family was purer even than your own."

"Oooh!" the Hat exulted, clearly enjoying itself. Shut up, he thought at it.

"I will curse that wretched squib, don't think I won't!"

"My, my. Threatening staff now, are you? Another ten points from Slytherin, and a second detention. It has been awhile since the drains in the floor of the potions classroom were properly cleaned. You might not know that manual methods are more effective for accumulated grime than cleaning charms, of course, being of such lofty parentage. I shall ask the Caretaker to instruct you and supervise myself to prevent any incivility between you and him. Meet me after classes tomorrow night." He released her.

"Come on! Hex us! I dare you!" the Hat cackled into Severus' ear. He pictured Fiendfyre at it. Fortunately, Vivian glared at him but evidently decided not to keep digging her hole.

"Dismissed." Vivian jerked her head at him and stalked away. "Ms. Selwyn, I have not forgotten you," Severus said, slowly turning to face his seventh-year prefect, who was currently lounging against the wall looking bored. "Why did you not intervene?"

She smirked. "It was all too fast, Professor. Am I supposed to step up the moment I see wands drawn in the corridor?"

"If it is a seventh year's wand pointed at a first year, then yes," he told her firmly. "That is your job as a prefect."

"Hmm. I'll keep that in mind."

"How did she make Prefect?" the Hat asked, scandalized.

Severus ignored the Hat. His eyes narrowed. When he spoke again, his voice was deadly soft. "See that you do, Ms. Selwyn. If I hear of more Slytherin upper years harassing any of our first or second years, any of our upper years and any of our first and second years... you will be serving detention as well."

Her eyes widened. "You can't do that! It's not in the rules for you to punish students for infractions they didn't commit!"

"Ah, but I won't be punishing you for bullying," he said silkily. "No, you will be punished for dereliction of your duties as a prefect."

"You can't do that, it's my NEWT year!" Augusta objected. Amusingly, the Hat said the very same thing. It might support Severus' anti-bullying campaign, but it valued the students' education above anything else.

Severus fought to control his grin and offered a sly smile instead. "Indeed it is. I am only thinking of you and your ambitions, Ms. Selwyn. Did we not discuss your... underwhelming... ambition to inherit the House of Selwyn? Your ability to lead and control your inferiors is far more important to that goal than your grades. I have already told you that you could get all 'T's on your NEWTs and still inherit. I will tell you now, if you cannot learn to control your own classmates with your resources, you will be a miserable head of a Noble House. You have a chance to impress me, Ms. Selwyn. I suggest you take it."

"This is all your fault anyway," she grumbled.

"Is it? Enlighten me."

"Vivian wouldn't have been so careless without your stupid 'Heir of Slytherin' competition."

"Ah, she believes this is a competition to prove who is most foolish and short-sighted in the House?"

"No. But it means she won't take slights from the unclean. Like the real Heir of Slytherin."

Severus walked forwards to loom over the seventeen-year-old girl. She involuntarily shrank from him before remembering her noble birth and straightening her shoulders. "I think Salazar would be ashamed if his Heir prioritized causing pain and fear amongst young children over honing their mind, forging alliances, and furthering their future. Don't you?"

Augusta shifted. "I didn't say she was smart."

"You and your classmates should not forget who is judging this competition. Me. One of the unclean. I will not be impressed by public recitations of incestuous ancestry. If that was what I wanted to select an honorary 'Heir of Slytherin," I would simply have you and Mr. Rosier duel to the death. Show some leadership, Selwyn. Show me that you are worthy of the same respect I hold for your father. Get the sheep in line." He glared at her a moment longer and smiled inwardly when he saw her eyes begin to glisten. She was a narcissist, but that only made her more susceptible to well-delivered humiliation. "Dismissed," he said softly.

"Yes, sir," Augusta muttered. Her face was flushed in mixed shame and anger. She walked past him and then broke into a run, no doubt to catch up with Vivian. Severus grinned. Delegation: the most important part of effective leadership, according to Vernon's books. And it was always a productive day if he could reduce someone as arrogant as Prefect Augusta Selwyn to tears.

"Young Severus, Salazar would have loved and hated you," the Hat whispered admiringly.

Oh? Severus thought at it as he made his way back to his office and the waiting first years.

"He would have enjoyed your manipulations, but he had no sense of humor. Godric might have appreciated the sarcasm... and I lost track of all the students he shamed to tears. He thought it built character. This is so much fun. I should really thank you for persuading the Headmaster to have the staff wear me."

Any advice for talking to the first years?

"I can't share anything confidential. Do you want to know their favorite colors?"

Do you want me to test the third years' potions on you this afternoon?

"You wouldn't dare!"

Then stop with the stupid questions and comments. With that, Severus opened the door to his office. He studied the four first years, who collectively shrank from him. He sighed. Their timidity was irritating. "Are you alright, Ms. Tuttle?" She nodded, though her red, watery eyes belied the gesture. "What happened?"

"Er... I forgot my quill in the Common Room and went back to get it. Then I ran down the corridor to catch up with the others and bumped into Vivian. I didn't mean to trip her."

Ismelda rolled her eyes. "You didn't trip her, Lizzy. You barely clipped her elbow. She didn't even drop anything. She just took that as an excuse to hex you."

"But that's so mean!"

"Certain older purebloods are mean," Severus informed her. "They feel the right to target people like you and me because of our blood status. You will face that not only in Hogwarts but as an adult as well. Anyone with a muggle parent or grandparent, even some with only muggle great-grandparents, will encounter bias." Elizabeth's eyes widened.

"Told you," Merula Snyde muttered.

Severus grimaced. "I gather your family has sheltered you from the unpleasant reality of your blood status, Ms. Tuttle. I suggest you listen to your peers. I suspect they all have more understanding of this issue than you do." He moved past the children and sat down at his desk. He rummaged in a drawer to find an almost empty tin of biscuits. Minerva had gifted them to him in celebration of their completing the renovations at Spinners End. They might be a little stale by now, but he didn't have anything else to offer the shaken eleven-year-olds. He conjured a plate and dumped the biscuits onto it. "Share these," he said shortly. He waited for each of them to select a biscuit, then folded his arms across his chest and leaned back in his chair. "Now, what will you four do if something like this happens again where I am not able to immediately intervene?" No one answered at first. "Well?"

"Uh... I could hex whoever it was back?" Ismelda suggested.

"I wanted to put her in Gryffindor," the invisible Hat said wistfully. She should have been in Gryffindor if you were doing your job properly, Severus thought at it disdainfully.

"And what hex would you use, Ms. Murk?"

"Um... Flipendo?"

"Ah, the first one you learned in Defense class. Unfortunately, the knockback jinx is not disabling. Assuming you managed to land it, your more experienced foe would still be in the fight, and they would be angrier and more likely to escalate their violence."

"Stinging hex?" Elizabeth offered.

"A better option, but only if you hit their wand hand." He attempted a gentle smile, but from their fearful expressions he was sure it looked predatory or something. "You four are not powerful enough to fight off an older student if they are determined to hurt you, certainly not by traditional means. So what else can you do?"

"Call for help," Barnaby muttered.

"And get stamped on later for tattling," Ismelda drawled.

"Depends on who and how you call," Severus said lightly. "If you are actively being attacked and scream loudly and dramatically, maybe cry a little even if you aren't actually hurting, that may satisfy your attacker's lust for violence and get them to stop to save themselves from discovery, while also alerting anyone nearby to come to your rescue. What is the risk of that approach?"

The four students glanced at eachother. They were no doubt surprised by the direction of this conversation. "No one comes," Barnaby whispered. "And they don't stop."

Severus nodded. "A possibility we cannot ignore. Even if someone else hears you, those who are cowardly or without mercy may choose not to intervene. That is life. So. What can you four do to protect yourselves and eachother?"

All four of them looked down at the floor. Elizabeth started to cry again. Damnit, he was trying to be helpful!

"You idiot. Give them a pep talk, not a reality check," the Hat hissed at him.

Easier said than done. Especially now he'd terrified them all.

"They're afraid of you for a reason. You're an ex-Death Eater! You say things like 'lust for violence' and they think dead parents and cousins."

I can't help being an ex-Death Eater.

"No, but you're not helping yourself by also being one of the strictest and most impatient Professors around. You should work on your own reputation. Now, repeat after me," the Hat simpered at him. "'This is not an impossible problem, and I want to help you sort it out together.'"

Severus grit his teeth a moment, but he obeyed the Hat. "This is not an impossible problem, and I want to help you sort it out. Together." Merula's and Ismelda's heads jerked back up. The Hat kept dictating, and Severus just followed its lead for a bit. "I am on your side. It is my job to take care of you, and I want to keep you four safe as well as happy and successful in Slytherin. You don't have to like me or be friends with me for that, but you do have to trust me enough to take your problems to me so that I can help you. Never be too afraid of tattling when it comes to safety."

By the time he was done, the first years were all looking at him with cautious hope rather than fear.

"You take it from here, maestro," the Hat chuckled in his ear. "I'll rescue you again if needed." Dragon dung, then Fiendfyre, Severus thought at it.

"The first step is for you four to stay together, which I know you already are doing. Why is that?" He decided not to stare them down while waiting for a response this time.

"Er... harder to attack?"

"A little harder to attack, yes, but more importantly, easier for someone to raise the alarm. If one of you is in jeopardy, and no older ally is in sight, then another of you can run away and find someone willing to help. Who will you run to?"

"You?"

"A possibility, yes. But if you are out on the grounds or in one of the towers, I will be a long way away. Seek assistance from anyone you trust to help you, including...?"

"Gwenog and Erika!" Elizabeth said.

"Good, yes, I see you are already on good terms with those two. You should definitely try to secure more allies in the senior classes ahead of time. They will help you in more ways than this. Even if none of your known allies are nearby, you should ask any prefect or teacher you come across."

"But... Augusta..."

"I have spoken to Ms. Selwyn and corrected her indifference. She will help you, and she will ensure that any Slytherin prefect will help you. I can guarantee any Hufflepuff or Ravenclaw prefect would also attend to you. The Gryffindors should help, but you might have to work harder to catch their attention because of their bias against Slytherin in general. However, if you make it clear that your friend is being unfairly victimized by someone much senior, then they will undoubtedly dash off to nobly rescue the downtrodden." He couldn't help a sneer at that, and Merula giggled.

"You don't like Gryffindors, do you, Professor Snape?"

"In general, not really. They have strong tendencies towards arrogant self-righteousness that is easily misdirected and therefore quite tiresome, particularly with their grudge against our house. That same quality, along with their commitment to 'valor,' makes them easy to manipulate. You will do well to remember that and capitalize on it."

"Yes, sir," Merula giggled again.

"Sounds like you want us to cry a lot, sir," Barnaby said, uncertainly.

"The tears of children are valuable weapons in a moral argument. Make use of them while you can," Severus told him with a grin. "By the time you have outgrown that tactic, you will have other, more powerful weapons available to you."

"Er, okay." Barnaby looked confused, and Ismelda looked a little put out, but both Elizabeth and Merula seemed to understand and approve his advice.

"So," he said with authority, "if a senior student harasses you, you are to call for help immediately. If no help is forthcoming and your attacker does not relent in the face of tears and expressions of fright, you will fight back. You will fight back cleverly. I want you four to practice your accuracy with the stinging hex so that you can hit your attacker's wand hand without fail. You should also think about how you could use the other spells you learn in both Defense and Charms to help either disable your attacker or enable your own escape. If you have questions about the feasibility of your ideas, ask your professors or myself."

"Could we use Lumos to blind them?" Elizabeth interjected.

"If it is dark and you are in close quarters, yes, absolutely," Severus said approvingly. It probably wouldn't help for more than a few seconds, but it was still a creative application of a simple spell, so he would encourage it. "If all else fails, then you focus on protecting yourself by physically protecting your head, and as soon as you are able, you report what happened to Ms. Selwyn and to myself."

There was more resistance to this suggestion, but Severus was firm. "Tattling" was only a crime according to rulebreakers. Moreover, he could not be everywhere, and he had to give Augusta the resources she needed to succeed in the mission he had forced on her, or else she would come to resent him even more and start conspiring with her classmates instead of trying to control them. There was a little more discussion about bullying, about blood status, and about the Slytherin prefects. Severus asked them how their classes were going, and he got real answers this time. When he sent them off to lunch, he was actually satisfied.

The stupid Hat alternately praised him and offered feedback for the meeting all the way up to the Great Hall.

Notes:

Severus has clever plans, they just have to be under constant revision because he keeps self-sabotaging. And he hates having a Jiminy Cricket Sorting Hat in his ear for the months of November and January. I also acknowledge I previously stated Elizabeth's father was a half-blood, not muggle-born as Vivian said. I'm going to stick by the half-blood thing if it ever comes up again, but Severus didn't bother to correct it because blood status really wasn't the point.

Chapter 33: Field Trip with a Nosy Hat

"Look at her! Look at her! Now's your chance!" the Sorting Hat goaded him. He was standing in the kitchen of Number 4 Privet Drive, keeping Petunia company while she cooked. The first hour of his visit this Sunday afternoon had been filled with Harry and Dudley clamoring for his attention, but now the two of them had settled down for naps. Vernon was watching television. The Hat he had disillusioned on his head and was the true motivation behind his visit today.

"Petunia, you're...glowing," Severus observed, finally giving in to the Hat's rude, intrusive, and insistent demands. This being the Hat's first adventure off the Hogwarts grounds in a thousand years, its excitement was excruciating. Severus regretted everything.

Petunia turned to look at him with a grin, still holding the spoon she had been using to stir the soup for the evening. "First time you've commented on my appearance since we were spotty teens, and I'm glowing, eh? What's that supposed to mean?"

"I'm not sure. But you are." She had an aura about her the likes of which was vaguely familiar but not something he definitively recalled, either from personal experience or from reading. The Hat had noticed it first, annoyingly. It didn't know what it was either, and it kept pestering him to find out.

Now she raised her eyebrows. "I was teasing you because I thought you were being figurative. What on earth to you mean?"

Severus shrugged. "I don't know how to explain it. You look the same as always but have an air of... power about you. That's not the right word either. It is something I truly perceive, not something I interpret or infer from other aspects of your appearance. I just don't know what it is."

Her voice lowered fearfully. "Do you mean some kind of, of magic?"

"It could be, but of a kind I don't recognize."

"Someone put a spell on me!?"

"No, it doesn't look like that."

"Well, then what does it look like, Sev?" She threw the soup spoon into the sink, slammed the lid back on the pot, and wiped her hands on her apron, glaring at him.

"As I said, I don't know. It doesn't look dangerous by any means."

She started twisting the fabric of her apron in her hands. "This was supposed to be our back-to-the-good-life year! I'm pregnant! I don't need some new, weird, scary mystery, Sev!"

Severus blinked at her and studied the strange not-actually-glowing again. He blushed slightly. "Oh. I see. That's probably it."

The Hat laughed softly in delight. "Don't blame me. I don't seen too many pregnant muggles living in a magical boarding school," it whispered in Severus' ear. I will lock you in a closet with a boggart, don't think I won't. "That will only work if you sit in the closet with me, otherwise there won't be a mind to fear, remember?" I can put fear into inanimate objects.

"What's probably it?" Petunia interrupted the silent dispute. Severus resolved to ignore the Hat as much as possible. It hated being ignored. He refocused on Petunia.

"The pregnancy. It is known that the bond between a mother and child is itself a powerful kind of magic. That's the power Albus used in the wards on your house, remember?" He did not specify that that particular branch of magic was rather poorly understood and esoteric to the point the Dark Lord had not believed in it at all. Severus himself had been a little skeptical of Albus' explanation about these enhanced blood wards, but looking at Petunia now, he really did believe in the power of love. A little.

"Hah! The bat of the dungeons is going soft!" the Hat chortled in quiet glee.

Petunia's mouth fell open. "But... I'm not a witch. I'm not magical. And I do not have some unnatural glow!"

"No, I assume the 'glow' must be perfectly natural and common to both witches and muggle women. I'm sorry for alarming you, but I haven't spent much time around pregnant women, particularly not since I've learned enough magic to be really sensitive to it and figure out what I might be 'seeing' via magic-sense. It is a subtle thing. I probably wouldn't have noticed it if you were a witch, since the native magic would have superseded it."

"Everything alright in here?" Vernon asked, poking his head into the room.

Petunia rolled her eyes. "Fine, dear. Severus just said I was glittery."

Vernon shook his head and snorted. "Poor choice there, Sev. The 'G' word has been banned since Christmas."

"I did not," Severus objected. "Glowing, I said. It was a complement."

"You said it was an ineffable thing and clearly resented it," Petunia told him primly.

"I like her," the Hat supplied.

"Nonsense." He met her insufferable, superior eye. "You misunderstood. It wasn't resentment, it was jealousy." Petunia glanced at Vernon and blushed. Severus grinned deviously. "The glow of confidence, the excitement for the future, the power of nurturing, it looks good on you, Petunia. And woe is me, that is an air I shall never attain." He sighed dramatically.

Petunia swatted him with a kitchen towel. She grimaced at Vernon. "I told him the good news."

Vernon huffed, mustache twitching. "Right. I'll be in the other room watching the match on telly. I'll leave you two to whatever this is."

Once Vernon left, Severus turned back to Petunia and politely said, "Congratulations, of course. When are you due?"

"June."

"Auspicious," from what he remembered of Lily's fourth-year divination notes. He hadn't taken the subject himself, much to his later regret. "Do you know boy or girl?"

"Not yet."

"Do you want me to check?"

Petunia's eyes widened. "You can do that so early?"

"Yes. Technically, its possible as soon as the embryo is formed, and very accurate."

"Oh. Um, not right now. Maybe after I've talked to Vernon about it."

Severus nodded and smiled again. "I'm happy for you both. Let me know if there's anything I might do to help you. There are for instance a number of simple potions used to treat things like morning sickness and headaches in pregnancy that are both safe for the fetus and effective in both magical and non-magical pregnancies."

"How do you know they're safe for muggles?" Petunia asked suspiciously.

"They're mostly old, old recipes dating long before the Statute of Secrecy, when a lot of housewitches would make these kinds of cures to sell to their muggle neighbors. There was also a series of experiments published in Practical Potioneering two years ago by a Japanese witch whose husband is a muggle biologist to confirm."

"I'll keep you in mind, then."

..."Can I give you a hug?" Severus blushed the moment he asked, while the insufferable Sorting Hat cheered in his ear, but Petunia politely ignored his consternation.

"You may."

He crossed the room and embraced her lightly. "Congratulations again. I'll be very excited to meet my new not-actually-niece or nephew when the time comes."

"Thank you, Sev." Her hair brushed against the brim of the Hat. She leaned back and frowned at the air above him. She could probably see the faint distortion left by the Disillusionment charm. "Is there... something on your head?"

"There is." Don't say anything until I tell you to. He grinned, stepped away from the window, drew his wand, and tapped the Hat to remove the Disillusionment charm. He swept it off his head with a flourish and held it up between them. "Petunia, may I present to you the Hogwarts Sorting Hat."

She eyed it. "A bit ratty, isn't it?"

He snickered. Serve the Hat right to see her so unimpressed. "Well, it is a thousand years old, afterall. Did Lily ever tell you about it?"

"I don't think so."

"It belonged to Godric Gryffindor originally, one of the Hogwarts Founders. I've told you about the four Houses of course. The Sorting Hat is enchanted to place the children into the House with the best fit."

"Huh. How?"

Her lack of excitement was starting to set him on edge now. Maybe this hadn't been such a brilliant idea. "It can... see into the mind of whoever wears it."

"It can read minds?!"

"In simplistic terms, yes, sort of."

"All the students at Hogwarts have to have their minds read upon admission?!"

..."You have a way of making that sound much more sinister than it actually is."

"Well, pardon me for thinking a mind probe is a huge invasion of privacy for an unsuspecting eleven-year-old."

"It's an entirely confidential process. The Hat is forbidden from sharing what it finds with anyone else, not even the Headmaster. In fact, it probably couldn't share thoughts and memories even if it wanted to. It isn't actually sentient. It does not have its own mind but rather piggybacks off whoever is wearing it." He chose not to delve into the ambiguity of the Hat's nature any further. He'd probably scare her off.

"If you say so," Petunia said skeptically. "Why did you bring it here?"

"Well, I'm supposed to be wearing it wherever I go throughout the months of November and January - remember how I mentioned the skewed Slytherin sorting?" She nodded curtly. "This is part of the plan to fix that. The other Heads of Houses and the Headmaster are wearing it the rest of the year."

Petunia's nose wrinkled. "Who's cleaning it?"

"There are charms for that as needed," Severus said shortly. Petunia's interest in cleanliness had always been a little too keen and had only increased with age and motherhood, it seemed. "Anyway, this is a rare opportunity. Most years, the Hat stays locked in Albus' office at all times except for the Sorting Ceremony."

"Opportunity?"

She blinked at him. He smiled. "If you and Vernon are interested... the Hat would love to assign you a Hogwarts House. That is, after all, its entire purpose."

She looked down at the Hat in his hands. Her expression was unreadable. He decided to stay silent. He knew Petunia had been insanely jealous of Lily when she first got her letter. The two of them had even discovered Petunia's letter written to Albus, arguing why she should be allowed to go to Hogwarts as well. He didn't know how she would receive this offer, though. He hoped she would take it as intended, a gesture of goodwill, a chance to fulfill a childhood dream. She could easily spurn him and the Hat though, just as she had been rejected at the age of thirteen.

"Why?"

"Why what?"

"Why should I care to be Sorted?"

Severus shrugged. "Honestly? No reason. Wizarding Britain places far too much importance on Hogwarts legacies. There's no reason for you to buy into all that. But... I think you would have wanted this chance, once upon a time. Since the opportunity arose, I could not resist offering it to you. You don't have to take it. You can decide it is silly and childish, which it sort of is. Or you can indulge in the childishness and the nostalgia of what was or could-have-been. Or you can do it for a laugh, or for curiosity. If nothing more, the Hat is a unique window into one's own mind."

She smiled slightly. "Alright, but let's get Vernon to do it too. And I'll call Arabella over. She's bound to be interested in this."

---

Petunia agreed to this silliness for Severus' sake. It took awhile to convince Vernon to trust something as suspicious as a mind-reading magic hat, but Arabella's enthusiastic arrival helped clear up any doubts. Arabella demanded Severus outline the typical Sorting Ceremony in great detail and reminisced about the letters her siblings and nephews had sent home about their own Sorting. Clearly, this was a treasured right of passage for British witches and wizards. Seeing old Arabella so excited was enough to tug on even Vernon's heartstrings. Both Vernon and Severus vetoed Arabella's request for the Sorting Hat to sing the history of the Founders and the Hogwarts Houses at them. Instead, Severus briefly described the four Houses and their attributes before passing the Hat rather unceremoniously to Arabella, who was sitting closest to him.

She jammed the Hat on her head immediately and closed her eyes with a huge smile splitting her face. After a few seconds, the Hat shifted on her head. A rip in the side opened up. (Petunia and Vernon leaned back from the strange sight involuntarily). "GRYFFINDOR!" the Hat cried merrily.

Arabella's eyes flew open, and she clapped her hands together joyfully. "Yes! House of the Brave! Oh, I wish I could tell Beatrice..." She pulled off the Hat and passed it to Vernon. "Thank you, Professor Snape. You don't know what this means to me..."

"Don't mention it. Don't mention it to Albus, for that matter." Severus turned his expectant gaze towards Vernon. Petunia met her husband's eyes, and she patted his hand reassuringly. He hesitated only a bit longer before lifting the shabby, pointy hat onto his head.

The other three watched and waited. Vernon was taking longer than Arabella, and his face was starting to flush. Petunia felt a jolt of worry. Arabella was a squib, unlike her and Vernon. Maybe muggles were different and couldn't be Sorted. "Is it working?" Petunia asked Vernon softly. He nodded and stared up at the Hat's brim, arms folded across his broad chest.

Finally, the Hat moved again. "HUFFLEPUFF!"

Severus smirked, and both he and Arabella lightly applauded. "Congratulations, Vernon," Severus said.

Arabella shot him a mock glare. "You didn't congratulate me!"

"I'm a Slytherin. Your Housemates are the bane of my existence."

"Tosh."

"Also, even the Hat thinks Hufflepuff is the best House, at least when it's on my head."

Vernon's dour expression lightened as he passed the Hat to Petunia. "Hufflepuff did sound like the most practical option."

"Loyalty and hard work are nothing to sneeze at," Arabella agreed amicably. She shifted to watch Petunia. "Your turn, dear. Let's see, then!"

Petunia shifted her grip on the Hat and slowly lifted it up to her head. "Hmm..." a little voice suddenly spoke in her ear. Actually, both ears. "An unusual blend, I see."

Unusual blend?

"Oh yes, bravery to do what you must, and a certain forthrightness amongst your closest friends, but both are tempered by suspicion of the unknown and the caution that comes with experience. My, my... adults are so much more interesting and complex to Sort than young children. I should suggest a second Sorting upon graduation to the Headmaster. Wouldn't that be fun?"

Sounds like you'd be stirring up trouble, Petunia thought, thinking of all the difficulties Severus had described plaguing his own work and students because of foolish inter-House rivalries.

"True, although soul-searching can be productive, not just entertaining." The Hat had a mischievous streak that Petunia did not approve of. It chuckled. "No, you wouldn't, would you? There's great determination in you to conform and to maintain peace. An interesting trait, that. I never see it in children except when it is driven by self-preservation, which... you are to a degree... but your conformity is not, really... That's more a sense of justice and intrinsic love of order. So, bits of Godric's bravery, hints of Helga's loyalty and self-discipline, and a showering of Salazar's decisiveness and leadership, of your husband at least."

I don't lead Vernon! How dare the Hat call her some nag!

"I never said you were. I merely point out that when it matters, he follows you. You took in your nephew. You decided first to hide him, then to stop hiding, then to love him, then to bring Severus into your household, then to move on with growing your family. You sought Vernon's counsel at every point of decision, but you were always the one with final say. Vernon has his own leadership traits that he deploys in his workplace, but he defers to you in the home. That is not a demerit on you, or him, or your marriage. It is merely fact. You were the same in your relationship with Lily, the difference being she was just as headstrong as you and unwilling to meekly follow."

You're awfully judgy for a supposedly inanimate object.

The Hat laughed again. "In truth, any moral judgments I offer come from the person on whom I sit. I am merely a Sorting Hat, after all. Now, where to put you? What do you think?"

That's your job.

"True, but you are not eleven. When well-formed minds like yours come to me, I can direct them to where they will be most comfortable, to where they most want to go, or to where they have the most potential to grow."

Petunia pondered that. What did she want out of this bizarre conversation? It was Severus' idea, not hers. She had little opinion on which Hogwarts House she might have belonged in if things were different. So, was she interested in what she already was, or what the future held? She looked down at her belly and smiled softly. It wasn't a hard question really. Place me with my potential.

"Very well. For you... a part of you wants to join your husband in Hufflepuff, a show of love and loyalty that Helga would no doubt approve. The loyalty you hold to your nearest and dearest is unshakeable, but you have no interest in extending it to others at the risk of your own. Your work ethic is remarkable, but it is already matured... So not there.

"Another part of you would join your friend Severus in Slytherin, to assure him he is not alone. Helga would surely approve of that as well. Salazar, however, would scoff at such motivation. The House of Slytherin is best suited for those whose ambitions, great or humble, lie at the core of their being."

An ambitious eleven-year-old? Well, no wonder satisfactory Slytherins are few and far-between.

"You've been talking to Severus," the Hat sighed. "Regardless, you're right. You may have the ability to lead and succeed... but you're not personally ambitious in the traditional sense. You have a single-minded protectiveness of your self and your family at the expense of less tangible goods that drives you. That is also a matured trait and unlikely to change. But, what you do wish to foster in yourself is the bravery to be as your sister was... willing to experience something new and otherworldly, willing to fight for a cause larger than yourself, and of course willing to lay down your life for your children. Well, I don't think you need to fret on any of those points, which makes you..."

A Gryffindor? Her eyes narrowed at the thought.

"Oh, you're not pleased? I was just about to shout it out."

No, Petunia wasn't pleased. She realized just now that she didn't want to be trailing after Lily after all this time. She liked her life the way it was. She liked the person that she was. The Hat was right when it suggested that she didn't have to feel inferior to noble, self-sacrificing Lily. She knew in her heart that she would sacrifice herself for her children, absolutely. And that cause... was enough. She didn't need to reach for more than what was needed to keep her family healthy and happy. She didn't need to risk what she had for what could have been.

"Wow, and there's Rowena's wisdom! I could really put you anywhere! But I see you've changed your mind and wish to simply be categorized rather than pushed."

Yes. Petunia felt vaguely satisfied the Hat was having trouble putting her in a little box. It meant she was a complex enough individual that her ordinary life could not be called mere complacency. Since this is a private conversation, how about this? You've already told me where I could go to "maximize my potential," Gryffindor. Now tell me where my "best fit" would be, and then put me in... Slytherin. Severus cares more about this than Vernon or I do, and I think it would make him happy.

The Hat chuckled one last time. "In that case, I call you a shrewd judge of character, which is a characteristic of... SLYTHERIN!"

Petunia winced as the last word was more of a shout. She pulled the disconcerting Hat off her head immediately. Arabella applauded. Petunia looked immediately to Severus, who smiled tightly at her. She grinned sheepishly. His smile widened, and the constant tension in him relaxed slightly. He clapped his hands six times.

"That was my second pick," Vernon commented as he passed the Hat along back to Severus, who tapped his wand to make it invisible again. "Interesting Hat you've got at that school, Sev. Now that's finished, who wants to watch the match?" He lifted up the remote control.

Arabella rolled her eyes, while Severus merely smirked at how unprofound Vernon took the Sorting experience to be. As for Petunia, she was not... unaffected, she decided. It was an interesting Hat, to give a little insight into one's own mind. It still seemed an odd way to start out a school career. For a moment, though, Petunia allowed herself to imagine how it would have been to go to Hogwarts with Lily... she frowned. She probably would not have accepted her own "Slytherin" traits so easily back then. Self-preservation, bossiness, and shrewdness weren't exactly what the Evans family most valued; she doubtless would have found the Hat's push to Gryffindor more appealing. She also hadn't liked Severus then. She probably would have been one of the people trying to break up Lily's and Sev's friendship, and she would have had a better chance of success than anyone else. She glanced across at Severus, who was listening intently to Vernon's explanation of the Queensbury Rules.

Petunia might wish for a number of things to be different, especially for her mother and sister to still be alive. However, looking back on her life now, sitting with these two friends and an adoring husband, with two sweet boys upstairs, a new bun in the oven... she did not regret not going to Hogwarts.

Arabella jolted Petunia out of her reverie. "Can I help you in the kitchen, Petunia? Honestly, men and their sports." Petunia hid a smile. Arabella looked affronted at more than just "men" at the moment. Well, after all, she had been much more excited by the prospect of being Sorted than either Dursley had. At least she seemed disinclined to shun the Slytherins or something equally absurd.

"Sure thing, Arabella. Let's check on the soup, and then I might set you to chopping salad while I get the boys up from their nap. And Sev, thank you for that." He nodded but stayed with Vernon. That was good. Petunia wanted the two of them to get on better. The women bustled out of the room.

Notes:

I knew I wanted to have Severus bring the Sorting Hat to Privet Drive, but it was really hard to figure out how the Dursleys would actually be Sorted. Vernon was easier through process of elimination: he's clearly not a Gryffindor or Ravenclaw looking at his character in the books. Canonically, he's basically defined by his work, being mean to Harry, and doting on Dudley. In this fiction, I've emphasized his devotion to Petunia and Dudley, which I think translates to an intense loyalty to his wife, particularly given the circumstances of learning about all the magical mayhem etc. And he's diligent at his job without being completely obsessed with furthering his own career at the expense of his family life. So, Hufflepuff. Petunia... there's not a lot to go on in the books. She certainly takes meticulous care of the house which suggested Hufflepuff, but she also foists a lot of responsibility on Harry canonically, and doesn't really display other House traits. Book Petunia is kind of a bitter, Harry-hating non-entity really. I went through a couple different online message boards and Sorting quizzes with varying results and ended up making her a very "balanced" character instead. Let me know in the reviews how you all think this Sorting could/should have gone. I'm interested to hear your thoughts.

Chapter 34: Children Singing

The month of November had its ups and downs. The first week, Severus felt like he was making progress when Gewnog led the quidditch team to an easy victory against the Gryffindors in the first match of the season, and the whole House celebrated in the common room together. Even muggleborn Bryce Jones, which was a rare occurrence. Then he took his trip to Privet Drive and felt even better. Then things took a downturn when half the seventh year Slytherins ended up in the hospital wing due to an illicit bottle of wine laced with a long-acting soporific. He suspected Augusta, assuming this was indeed the vigilantism it looked like targeting the more refractory blood purist bullies. But he had no proof. It could also be Gwenog quietly taking Augusta's assignment for her own purposes, or it could be Erika with shear, wrathful protectiveness. Or anyone with a vendetta. On the bright side, by the time Poppy finally discharged Vivian a week later, the first years no longer seemed to be afraid of their own house mates. He assumed no one told them exactly why their enemies were in the hospital wing; they were all too cute and doe-eyed to endorse or conceal a plot like this.

Poison was not what he had in mind when he told Augusta to get the house in order, but he couldn't argue with the results. The Sorting Hat could, and did, very insistently. It strongly disapproved Severus' lack of concern in definitively identifying and punishing the poisoner. For his part, Severus truly didn't care if Augusta or one of the other prefects had orchestrated the poisoning. No lasting harm was done, and quite a lot of potential harm was averted. He was only interested in excluding candidates who might do such a thing again and more recklessly: namely Gryffindors and younger Slytherin students with real grudges against the victims. Fortunately, he found no reason to suspect Bryce nor any of the usual suspects.

At least someone had plotted something more grandiose than usual with enough subtlety to be interesting. He told the disgruntled parents their children should not have felt themselves entitled to drink on school premises, even if they were of age.

Helpful as the Hat had been in Severus' talks with his junior students, Slytherins and non-Slytherins alike, it was also stressful to have the constant reminder of his impossible quest to reform Slytherin House literally weighing down his head every day and tactlessly pointing out all the things he could be doing better. It was with relief that he handed over the Hat back to Albus to wear for the truncated month of December. He would take the Hat and all its associations back for another month after Christmas. Severus did not need the dratted thing muttering in his ear all through the end-of-fall-term tests. For the last two weeks of term, he just wanted to focus on academics. He was determined that no student would miss the potions theory questions this year, except perhaps the very stupidest ones in the first and second year classes.

December was overall calmer than November in Slytherin House. He was called to deal with fewer incidents, and Slytherin racked up enough house points to move into second place. Whether this was down to studiousness, festive cheer, Augusta, Gwenog, or some other prospective "Heir of Slytherin," he did not know.

It might even have been his own mood: for the first time he could remember, he was actually looking forward to the Christmas holidays. He was visiting Surrey on the very last day of term, and in his anticipation, he found himself ignoring certain annoying-but-not-strictly-harmful infractions like running in the corridors more than usual. The day came. The students left, and so did Severus. He met the Dursleys at their house and gave an excited Harry and Dudley firm hugs. Then the five of them drove to the local primary school for their Christmas play.

Severus remembered disliking the Christmas play when he was in primary school with Lily, but he allowed that was mostly because he had been an unpopular, unhappy, and bullied child. Being forced to perform on stage, where his poverty and/or facial bruises would be on full display, was not a comfortable position. Being forced to celebrate a holiday that mostly caused his family increased stress and abuse felt unfair. The fact that he spent every play as one of the undistinguished children's choir was not lost on the more outgoing and talented students, who found in his reservations and discomfort further ammunition for their derision. The one year he actually looked forward to the school Christmas play was, of course, the year Lily was selected to play Mary. She had been so happy, and her joy had rubbed off on him, just a little bit.

Harry and Dudley of course were too young to put on an impressive performance, but they were ecstatic about it nonetheless. Their enthusiasm, as told by Petunia in the Protean journal, is what had made Severus look forward to the whole thing, despite his misgivings. Their day school had joined forces with the local primary school. While the older children had the speaking roles and would no doubt carry the choir, the young children would sing some carols, and some would dress up as animals for the Nativity scene. Harry and Dudley were to be wooly lambs. They showed Severus the costumes Petunia had made them with pride, handmade out of old pillowcases and scrunched up tissue paper.

They relinquished the boys to the care of their teacher and found seats near the middle of the small auditorium. Severus smothered a grin at the loud whispers behind the garish red stage curtain. It took a good ten minutes for the teachers to corral all the children into place. Someone played a few introductory chords on a tinny piano, and the curtain rose to the strains of Silent Night.

The singing was... pretty terrible. Some of the children were quite good and could carry the tender melody beautifully, but they were drowned out by the chorus of too loud, too nasal, and off-key singers. It got worse with Joy to the World, as the faster rhythm fell apart too. The mediocrity of the performance somehow lessened any tension Severus still felt connected to his own childhood memories of these things. The comedy of errors was too humorous to elicit his old resentment.

Severus made the terrible mistake of glancing towards Vernon who was sitting between him and Petunia; Vernon's nose was already turning a dangerous purple. Also, he was squinting more than usual. Petunia caught Severus looking, and her eyes narrowed dangerously, silently warning him not to laugh. Vernon must have noticed; his flush deepened and mustache twitched.

Severus carefully turned his attention back towards the stage and adopted an expression of perfect neutrality. He maintained it all through O Little Town of Bethlehem, Away in a Manger, and Jingle Bells. He lost it a little bit when all the younger children, Harry and Dudley included, blithely forgot the lyrics to the latter verses of The Twelve Days of Christmas: "Ten la-la-la-la, Nine la-la-la-la, Eight la-la-la-la, Seven la-la-la-la, Six la-la-la-la, FIIIIIVE GOLDEN RIIIIIIINGS!"

After that was a little interlude for the Nativity play, which consisted of a boy and girl of about nine reading off bland, vaguely archaic-sounding narration without sufficient inflection to lend the scene any gravity or mystery of any kind. ("A long time ago, a young woman named Mary lived in a village called Nazareth. One day, an angel of the Lord appeared unto her.") Other school-age children alternately mimed riding around the Middle East and speaking unconvincing dialogue. It was boring as tending a batch of stewing flobberworms until they finally got to the part about the shepherds, at which point Harry, Dudley and their friend Pierce crawled onto stage, trailing behind a handful of older children wearing bathrobes, carrying sticks, and with towels tied onto their heads. Harry's and Dudley's sheep costumes were clearly superior to Pierce's, which was really just a white vest and a fuzzy hat. Stars of the show, really.

The play finished with all the characters assembled in the stable, and a smaller, more talented choir of just older students singing What Child is This. Severus joined in the polite applause, then got up and volunteered to fetch Harry and Dudley.

Technically, there was still more after an intermission, but Harry's and Dudley's participation was no longer required, and one look at Vernon confirmed neither of them were suited to sitting through a screechy youth orchestra performance. "Compliments only," Petunia said warningly, eyes darting between Severus and her husband.

"I wouldn't dream otherwise after such a stirring performance," Severus said drily. "Such powerful witness of divine mystery. I may be moved to convert."

"And I'm a hippopotamus," Vernon chuckled. "Go on, Sev. We'll meet you by the door."

Severus nodded and elbowed his way down the aisle to where the youngest children stood clustered around their teacher, a young, brown-haired woman who was perhaps overly effusive in her praise of her students' efforts.

Harry glimpsed Severus first and tugged Dudley towards the edge of the group. "Uncle Sev! Did you see us?"

"I did. The most magnificent sheep I have ever seen. For a moment there, I thought you had both, miraculously, mastered the art of ovine transformation. And all of you sang with the dulcet tones of seraphim. I was quite transported."

Harry giggled and turned back to his teacher. "My Uncle Sev knows the biggest words."

"Biggest words in the whole world!" Dudley agreed.

"I see that. He must be very smart." The young woman smiled and met his eyes briefly. She thrust out one hand for him to shake but at the same time looked away to snatch the collar of one of her other wandering charges with her other hand. "Alice Rutherford. Pleasure to meet the famous Uncle Sev. Harry talks a lot about you."

"Joseph Evans. The pleasure is mine," he said. "I won't keep you, though. You appear quite busy."

"They're a handful. Andrew, you stay right next to me until your Mum gets here, got it? I won't tell you again."

Severus grinned. "Happy Christmas, Miss Jones. Harry, Dudley, let's go. Petunia and Vernon are waiting for us in the back." He took Harry's and Dudley's small hands in his and led them away.

"Uncle Sev, who's Sara Finn?"

"Does she sing Christmas records?"

"What, not who. 'Seraphim' is the plural of 'seraph.' Think of seraphim like six-winged angels." There was much debate in the wizarding historical community as to whether seraphim and the other bizarre angelic figures of the Judaic tradition were real, and if so, what exactly they were, since no such creature or being existed in modern times. The leading candidate was a stray thunderbird, although what one of those would have been doing on the wrong continent twenty-six hundred years ago was anyone's guess. The next best option was an extinct relative of Greek Sirens called an Apkallu native to Assyria, with the body of a human but head and too many wings of an eagle.

"Cool. Wuz ovine?"

"The Latin word for 'relating to sheep.'"

"Wuz Latin?"

"Latin is the language of ancient Rome which came to dominate all kinds of scholarly activity in all parts of Europe throughout the Middle Ages through right of conquest, proselytization, and gatekeeping of literacy. It remains the dominant language base of scientific jargon." And magic.

"We live in Europe!"

"Sort of."

"Wuz Rome?"

"Wuz conquest?"

"Wuz prosey... that word?"

"Wuz litter sea?"

"Wuz jargon?"

Time to be a walking dictionary. Surprisingly, Severus didn't actually mind these endless questions much, probably because Harry and Dudley were actually interested in his answers and would never question him. He took a deep breath. "Rome is a city in Italy which was the foundation of a vast empire encompassing much of the Mediterranean and Europe a long time ago, reaching all the way South and East to Egypt and all the way North and West to England at its greatest extent."

"We live in England!"

"We do. Conquest is the acquisition of someone else's property by means of war."

"Isn't that stealing?"

"Usually, yes."

"Stealing is bad."

Usually, yes. "Proselytization is the act of spreading your own passionate beliefs to a group who doesn't share them with the intent to convince them to convert to your faith or opinion."

They drew level with the Dursleys. "Sev, what on earth are you teaching them?" Vernon asked.

"Vocabulary. They asked."

"Wuz vocabary?" Dudley helpfully interjected.

"See?"

Vernon chuckled. Petunia swooped down and kissed first Dudley's and then Harry's cheeks. "You were wonderful, darlings."

"Uncle Sev said we were ovine and Sarah Finn," Harry said proudly.

Vernon cocked an eyebrow and looked at Severus questioningly. "Sheep and angels," Severus said innocently.

"Right." Vernon nodded sagely, mustache twitching.

"Let's go, boys," Petunia said bracingly. "It will be your bedtime as soon as we get home."

"Can we stay for orca straw?"

"Nope."

"Awww..." The boys followed her obediently despite their protests. Harry grabbed Severus' hand again and tugged on it. "Wuz vocabary?" he asked as soon as Severus looked down at him.

Severus smiled, then bent down to pick the child up and carry him to the car. "A person's vocabulary is how many words they know."

"You have the biggest vocabary!"

"I do. And someday, you will too. Now, let's see, literacy is the ability to read. And jargon is a special kind of vocabulary that is used in someone's job but not in common speech. Your Uncle Vernon knows a lot of managerial and engineering jargon that I don't."

"Really?"

Severus grinned deviously. "Really. Vernon, tell us all an engineering term, wouldn't you?"

"Yeah, Daddy!" Dudley enthused, jumping up and down a few times.

"Honestly," Petunia muttered under her breath. "You men will be the death of me." Severus chose to believe she meant it fondly.

"Fine, fine. Let me think of a good one," Vernon said, smiling at his wife's consternation. "How about 'torque adjustment'?"

"Wuz that?"

"It's the part of a power drill that controls how much force you're using."

"See, I didn't know that," Severus told Harry. Harry smiled and wrapped his arms around Severus' neck contentedly.

"I love you, Uncle Sev."

Severus' heart constricted in his breast. He lowered his voice a little as he answered, "I love you too, Harry."

Notes:

I realize I write a *lot* about Christmas in this story, but in my defense, there's just so much opportunity for cute and/or silly things!

Chapter 35: The Birds and the Bees

Petunia smiled after Severus left. He had used a spell to check on her pregnancy at her request, after they had put the boys to bed. It was a healthy baby girl, he said. A girl! Vernon had liked the idea of yet another little boy running around the house, but Petunia was thrilled to have a daughter on the way. They would still have to wait another month or so before they could reasonably tell Vernon's parents the gender, but it was so lovely to know now, a little secret for her and Vernon to share. And the boys. They were planning to let the boys know about their impending sibling for Christmas, and it would do no harm to tell them the gender too. Four-year-olds barely understood the concept of pregnancy, let alone the expected timing for gender determination on gestational ultrasounds. And if the children talked about it to Marge or others, well, adults would see nothing unnatural in the unpredicated confidence of a child.

"We should repaint the nursery," Vernon said after a time. He was still sitting beside her, one hand wrapped around to hold her shoulder, the other resting on her belly.

"Which room is to be the nursery now?" Petunia asked. She assumed Vernon was not planning to displace Dudley.

"We should get the boys bunk beds. They'll love them."

"Harry's room, then, I take it."

"We can convert the guest room if you prefer, Pet, but I think it would be good to keep it as is. Remember when your mother came for the first month after we had Dudley? Marge or someone might be able to come and help again for awhile. I might not be able to get more than a week or two off at work..."

Petunia might prefer looking for help from Rachel or Mrs. Polkiss, or even Arabella rather than Marge who would undoubtedly want to bring along a dog, but she saw Vernon's point. "We'll get bunk beds for Dudley's room," she affirmed. "Twin-sized, with rails on the upper bunk. The boys will be big enough for them by then."

"And the nursery can be a light purple this time, like the sash on your wedding dress."

Petunia giggled. Vernon's tone was matter-of-fact rather than dreamy or romantic. That's just the kind of man he was, keeping his charm hidden under a gruff exterior most of the time. She knew it was there, though. She was one of the few who saw it. Neither Lily nor her own parents had ever gotten to know Vernon well enough to recognize it.

"You don't want to please your mother and make it pink?" she suggested teasingly. Dorothy Dursley had begged over and over again for Petunia to change the wedding color theme. Petunia had refused because she thought pink would clash terribly with her own mother's red hair. (And Lily's, but the sisters were on the outs because of James' insulting Vernon, so Petunia had petulantly excluded her from the wedding party until and unless James apologized, which he never did). Besides, it was her wedding, and she did like purple.

"I'd think I'd do better to please you. I remember how cranky you used to get when you were pregnant with Dudley."

She smiled and laid her hand over his. "What if I want yellow?"

"I'll be surprised."

"We could please Harry and Dudley and make it every single color."

"We can have flowers in every single color decorating the wainscoting," Vernon offered the compromise.

"That sounds lovely, actually."

"What do you think of a floral name, like your family does for the women?" Vernon ventured.

"I... maybe. I don't want to name her after my mother or Lily directly. It would be too... fraught, I think. But maybe we can find something else to suit. I do like the tradition."

"I do, too. And I agree, I don't want to give her a family name, not from my side either."

"I'm open to other, regular names too, though. We still have six months to think about it, you know."

"We'll come up with something perfect."

---

They decided to tell the boys on Christmas Eve, when it was just the four of them in the house. Marge and Sev were coming early the next day, and Marge and Vernon would then take Dudley up to London to visit the grandparents. When the time came, Petunia wondered if they should delay until morning after all. The boys were intensely excited about Christmas and their anticipated presents and were busy dragging seemingly every pillow in the house down to the living room in order to build a fort next to the couch from which they planned to spy on Father Christmas. It seemed a shame to disrupt their ambitious undertaking. Vernon was not deterred, however. He reached between the cushions, hands following the giggles, and plucked both boys out of the pile to deposit them on either side of Petunia.

"Boys, sit still for a minute. We have something to tell you."

"And something to give you," Petunia added.

"But it's not Christmas yet," Harry pointed out. "You said we had to wait 'til Christmas."

"This is special." Dudley immediately sat up straighter.

Vernon smiled and fetched the box they'd gotten for the boys. He passed it to Petunia, who set it on her lap. "It's for both of you. Who wants to open it?"

"Me!" Dudley immediately, and predictably, answered. He didn't wait for Harry to argue but immediately started into the pink-and-blue wrapping paper. He made short work of it and lifted up the lid. Both he and Harry peered into the box. It was Harry who reached in and pulled out the baby doll.

"It's a doll."

"That's for girls," Dudley pointed out, sounding disappointed.

"They are for both boys and girls, both to play with, and to practice," Petunia corrected. The boys looked up at her questioningly, and she grinned. "When mummies and daddies love eachother very much, they can decide to make a baby. That's where you two came from. Well, Mummy and Daddy decided we should make another baby. You're going to have a little sister."

"...But it's a doll," Harry pointed out uncomprehendingly.

Vernon chuckled. "I told you that thing would just confuse them, Pet." He had also objected to the idea because dolls were too girly a toy for young boys.

Petunia sighed. Her husband might have been right on both counts. But, if Harry and Dudley didn't want it, she'd save it to give to their daughter in a few years. "Do you two remember when Piers' little sister was born?"

Dudley screwed up his eyes in thought. "I think so?" Harry shrugged, but then, he hadn't known the Polkisses or any of the other neighbors really until that same summer.

"Do you remember seeing Mrs. Polkiss earlier that year?"

Dudley nodded. "She got really fat, and then skinny again."

"That's because she was pregnant. Mummies carry their babies inside their tummies until they're ready to be born."

"Oh." Dudley contemplated this new information.

Harry meanwhile stared at Petunia in a new light. "You have a baby in your tummy?" he finally gasped. Dudley's head whipped up. Petunia nodded, pleased they seemed to be getting it.

"But you're not fat!" Dudley objected.

Vernon laughed again. "The baby is still very small, Dudders. But she'll grow, and so will Mummy's belly. Here. This is a picture of Mummy when she was pregnant with you." He presented the boys with a photo album for their inspection. Petunia smiled to herself when she saw it. She flipped through the pages showing her gradually growing baby bump, culminating with the picture of her and Dudley in hospital. The photographic evidence proved convincing.

"It's just like in the Christmas play," Dudley observed. Petunia suddenly recalled the girl who had played Mary had spent half the play with a lumpy pillow under her shirt before swapping it out for a doll. She had thought it rather silly at the time.

"We get to be big brothers!" Harry shouted triumphantly.

"Yay! What's her name?" Dudley asked.

"We haven't decided yet," Vernon explained. "We'll think of one in the next few months."

"What do we do with this?" Harry asked, holding up the doll.

"Well, you can learn how to hold her gently and how to dress her. And you two get to name your doll."

"Oh! So this one's Duddy's and me's baby."

"Sort of, yes."

Harry stared at the doll. Under his intense inspection, the painted eyes unexpectedly blinked. The lips, which had been molded into something of a pout, softened and became a happy, toothless smile. The effect was uncanny rather than cute, unfortunately. From behind the boys, Vernon grimaced slightly. Dudley leaned over her to get a closer look, but he didn't seem unnerved at least. Harry gasped in delight and picked up the doll, holding it up in front of him. Its little fists waved at him, and its feet kicked, remarkably similar to real baby movements. "Show me how to hold her, Auntie Petunia!"

"Of... of course, Harry," Petunia managed. She instructed first Harry and then Dudley on the proper way to hold the squirming plastic doll as if it were a real baby, then showed them the two outfits that came with it. The boys listened attentively. Then Dudley promptly tucked the doll (which stiffened up again as soon as Harry's mind wandered) under one arm so they could all disappear back into the pillow fort.

Once they were out of sight giggling again, Petunia shrugged up at Vernon helplessly. "I think that went well, except for the m-a-g-i-c. That part was disconcerting."

"Make sure they don't take it to school," Vernon agreed. "And tell Harry not to animate any of his friends' toys either."

"I'll also mention it to Severus. There might be a way to stop him from animating it. Can you imagine what Marge would say if she saw it?"

Vernon nodded. "Work of the devil or of the drink. One or the other."

"I'll make sure it stays upstairs tomorrow. Now, how long shall we allow this to continue?" She gestured at the quivering pile of pillows. "It's time they were going to bed."

"I imagine they'll be falling asleep soon enough. I'll carry them up once they do."

"They should brush their teeth," Petunia said.

Vernon shrugged. "It's Christmas, Pet." He turned the television back on and flipped the channels until he came to one playing a Christmas film.

She smiled and curled up next to him. "I guess one day of unclean gums won't hurt."

Notes:

Petunia and Vernon get creepy moving doll nightmare fodder for Christmas this year, lol. Harry and Dudley will probably be receiving nothing but art supplies, building blocks, and games in the future...

Chapter 36: Trials of the Head of House

Severus sat at his desk drinking champagne out of the novelty mug Chiara Lobosca had unexpectedly gifted him for Christmas. He supposed it was in thanks for his consenting to allow her to observe while he brewed the December wolfsbane. It was very bright, the glaze cycling through all the colors of the rainbow. On one side read the phrase "TEARS OF MY STUDENTS," in large, friendly letters. It was such a distinctly odd clash of message and design, he suspected she had enchanted an ordinary mug herself, or with the help of an upper year. It was the most unusual gift he had received by far. The most interesting was probably the selection of books Petunia had given him: the Handbook for Mental Health Care of Disaster Victims, the Handbook of Adolescent Psychology, and Psychic Trauma. The best gift was that he did not have to fail any students based on fundamental misunderstanding of basic potions principles on the mid-year exams. All the failures were in the details instead, and a lower percentage than he usually saw. He was, in fact, approaching a normal curve in the passing range for all his classes, for the first time in his teaching career. Hence, the champagne, leftover from the New Year party in the staff room.

There was a knock on his office door. He quickly disillusioned the mug and also the Sorting Hat before calling whoever it was to enter. The Hat snickered at him. It had teased him over receiving the mug in the first place when he got it back from Albus yesterday, then teased him for keeping and using the mug, and now for hiding the mug. There was no pleasing it.

It was a student who stepped into the room, despite the late hour on the first day back, Gwenog Jones. He nodded greeting. "Ms. Jones. What can I do for you?"

She smiled at him. "Happy New Year, sir. There were a couple things I wanted to talk to you about before curfew, if you had a moment." He gestured for her to sit and waited for her to continue. "First off, I had a chat with Augusta over the break."

"Oh?"

"She's given me permission to take over leadership of most of the house in her name while she focuses on keeping certain of her classmates out of trouble." Severus snorted. He had no doubt that arrangement was entirely Gwenog's idea. Assuming Augusta understood what power she was giving up, she was even lazier than Severus had thought. Gwenog grinned. "With that in mind, I had a few ideas to go over with you."

"She's the poisoner!" the Hat silently screamed in his ear.

It had continued to obsess about that throughout its time with Albus, apparently, and came back to him with multiple annoying accusations. Severus did not necessarily disagree about Gwenog, but he didn't answer the Hat either. In fact if the Hat was right, he was quite pleased with Gwenog. "I'm listening."

"You evil, manipulative bat!"

Just like Salazar. Shut up. He sealed his mind completely with Occlumency, reducing the Hat to a lifeless state so he could attend to his student without distraction.

"I've decided to have the prefects do a headcount in the dorms before curfew. Ravenclaw already does it; really, all the Houses should. It should make our patrols easier."

"Should you become Head Girl next year, you can make it a school-wide requirement."

She smiled at him and continued, "I think the career counseling we get as 5th years comes too late, since our electives are already locked in. After talking with Erika, Felix, Bryce, and a few others, I'd like to introduce a question and answer session for the second years around March or so to help them pick electives more appropriately."

Severus bit back a smile of his own. Gwenog's impromptu focus group for this matter were well-chosen. Erika was certainly the prefect who knew the second years best. Felix took the most electives, and was Sacred Twenty-Eight under close scrutiny of his family. Bryce as a muggle-born represented Felix' polar opposite in terms of familial guidance and support. "What exactly do you have in mind?" he asked neutrally.

"I should think the sixth year prefects would be the best people to run the session. We've been through career counseling already and don't have to worry about studying for O.W.L.s or N.E.W.T.s. Burke is game, especially if I do most of the prep work. I'd like to get at least one prefect from each House."

Severus' eyebrows rose. "You mean for this to be for all the second years, not just ours?"

Gwenog beamed at him; her guileless expression did not match the calculating glint in her eyes. "But of course! It's not just our second years who would benefit from advice. I would make it an open session. I can't force non-Slytherins to come, but it would be churlish to exclude them, don't you think?" Her tone was now sanctimonious. "Plus, it's a good opportunity for the juniors to start networking outside the House, and foster inter-House cooperation amongst both the juniors and the prefects..."

Severus did grin now. This was clearly part of her plan to land the Head Girl position. "It is an excellent idea, and I will support you to the other staff. You're quite right that we should not burden seventh years with the task." That would risk the current Head Boy and Girl usurping control of the project. Severus was confident Gwenog could hold her own against the other sixth-year prefects. "I'd like to see a written proposal for what topics you will cover, what questions you anticipate - poll our own second and third years for that - and how you might answer the questions."

"I'll get it to you next week and talk to the other prefects once you've signed off."

"I'll ask either Professor McGonagall or the Headmaster to endorse it for you as well." He was sure either of them would without much thought. The idea was a good one and did not create extra work for the staff. "What else?"

"I think we should increase our House's participation in the extracurricular clubs, besides just quidditch. It will give people more opportunities to compete outside the common room." And thus cut down on some of the in-fighting. Maybe. "I'd like to see Slytherin students heading up every club in a few years," she continued.

Severus' eyes narrowed slightly. He wondered if Gwenog had deduced his overarching ambition for Slytherin House and was pandering to him with this. "I do not oppose students' participation in approved extracurricular activities, so long as their regular coursework does not lag," he said.

"Great! With that in mind, we were wondering if you would be interested in being the faculty sponsor of a dueling club?" Severus' eyes narrowed further, and he said nothing. Gwenog was not at all cowed by his expression and continued, "There used to be a club years ago, but as far as I can tell, it pretty much ended when Professor Dumbledore started having all the trouble keeping a Defense Professor for more than one year, because it was the Defense Professor who ran it before. There's a lot of senior students who feel behind in Defense because of the turnover and would love to learn dueling from you."

And he might actually enjoy it as well. What was the catch, besides more work? "Professor Flitwick might be more qualified as an ex-dueling champion," he pointed out expressionlessly.

"He's only more qualified on paper," Gwenog said confidently. "And he already runs the frog choir and both magic and muggle music clubs, and the Gobbledygook language club. Plus he sponsors the charms club, although he doesn't run the meetings. You only sponsor the potions club." Because it was a requirement of his faculty appointment. He only went to the first and last meeting every year. "It would boost morale if our Head of House sponsored another club, I think. Also," she grinned slyly, "I happen to know of a few troublemakers that would be interested in getting on your good side if it meant they could learn some of the spells you were slinging around in the common room at the start of term. I figured if you're in charge of the club, you'd be perfectly entitled to make strict entry requirements, like students have to be passing their other classes and are banned from the club if they're caught fighting in the corridors."

No doubt Gwenog would be sure to let said troublemakers know who had convinced him to start the club in the first place. Clever girl. And she was right again, that such a club would benefit the school at large.

"I figured prefects who got 'O's on their Defense O.W.L.s could be the default club officers and your principle teaching assistants, since we're starting mid-year," she said. Which meant of course that Gwenog would be an officer, and that Augusta would not.

He snorted again. "I see you have it all worked out, Ms. Jones."

She pulled a roll of parchment out of her bag. "Even have the proposal drawn up for you."

He accepted it bemusedly. "I'll consider it. Was there anything else?"

"Just one more thing. I wondered if you had anything more planned for the Heir of Slytherin competition?"

"Yes. I have a voting box prepared that I will place in the common room on Monday. I will post results of this initial polling on the bulletin board after one week. These will not be the final results, but rather a starting point from which those in the lead will be expected to further position themselves and compete." He grinned at her slight scowl. "I hope this does not ruin your plans to sweep the majority of the lower years with your competitors being none the wiser."

She shrugged, expression wry. "I couldn't expect you to make it too easy on me, sir."

"No. Those with talent and ambition must learn to live with targets on their backs."

"As you say, sir. That's all I wanted to ask."

"Good night, then. And thank you for your diligence."

"Goodnight."

As soon as she left, he unsealed his mind. The Hat sputtered indignantly at him. Severus simply recalled the conversation, allowing the Hat to view what it had missed. After a moment, it observed, "You're proud of her."

I am. She is what this House should be.

"She did have some good ideas," the Hat admitted grudgingly. "The curse on the Defense position is a terrible blight on the school of which I was unaware until this year."

The curse was a blight on everyone; it was the main reason that Albus was so certain the Dark Lord was not entirely dead.

"Are you really going to let her get away with using poison on her fellow students?"

We have no proof of that.

"Only because you're not looking for it."

Nor will I. If there had been a plot with potentially lasting or fatal consequences against any student, Slytherin or otherwise, I would stop at nothing to find the perpetrator. That kind of behavior can only grow to lethal recklessness or habitual violence. If this plot had been carried out merely for petty vengeance or temporary reprieve, I likewise would not tolerate it, for the same reason. To think that it was done for grander purpose and with clear care to prevent lasting harm is reassuring to me. And he suspected, should he go digging for evidence against Gwenog, all of it would instead point to Augusta, or some other likely candidate, either because she was innocent or because she had thought to cover her tracks in more ways than one. He probably could find proof if he wanted to, but then he would be obliged to punish the perpetrator. Nor did he desire to teach Gwenog how to deceive him, not this year, nor would he fan the flames of his own feud with Augusta. He would know he and the Hat were wrong in their suspicions if his seventh years were targeted again.

His thoughts were disturbed by another knock on the door. Gwenog opened it again without waiting for permission; this time, her expression was not satisfied but rather concerned. "Sorry, sir. When I got back to the common room, Felix told me we're one off on the head count. Dirk missed the feast. None of the seventh years I talked to saw him on the train, or in their dorms, and he's about to miss curfew. Does he have a dispensation?"

"No," Severus said shortly as he stood up from his desk. "Thank you for bringing the matter to my attention, Ms. Jones. Back to the dormitory with you and arrange for the prefects to search there, please, thoroughly. If you cannot find him there, I will take care of it."

He ushered her out of the room, and they walked in opposite directions, she towards the Slytherin common room, he towards Argus' office. He drew his wand as he walked. "Point Me: Dirk Prentiss," he muttered. The wand spun three circles in his hand before shooting off a puff of smoke and lying still. He cursed. Wherever Dirk was, it was behind wards. He was either skulking, or he really wasn't here at all. Severus berated himself for not taking attendance personally at dinner. He should have known not to trust the system. He should have known not to relax too early. It was too good to be true to think all the students would make it back from the holidays on time two years in a row.

"Even for you, that seems pessimistic," the Hat commented.

Not at all, Severus thought at it darkly. Last year was a fluke. Students have gone missing over the breaks every year for the past decade. During the war, it was from all the Houses, from murders, kidnappings, fleeing threats against their families, or seventh years being recruited to join the violence. Since the war ended, it's mostly mere Gryffindor truancy, but missing Slytherins after breaks can be suicides. The Prentiss home is not a happy one.

He ran up the stairs and burst into Argus' office without knocking. Fortunately, the old caretaker was still there, going through the student roll he took at the door and cross-checking with the students who had stayed at Hogwarts over the break. "Argus, did Dirk Prentiss check in? My prefect reported him missing."

Argus immediately flipped to the Slytherin list at the bottom of the pile; he always organized things alphabetically. He ran a gnarled finger down the list of names and shook his head. "No. Sorry, Professor. I should have noticed sooner. It were Peeves what slowed me down - knocked into me at the top of the grand staircase with a whole pile of essays he stole from Professor Slinkhard's office. Took over an hour to sort through the mess."

"Coordinate a search for him, would you? I don't think he's here, but we have to check. If he is here, he's hiding from a Point Me."

"Sure thing, Professor." He stood up from his desk, wincing a little with arthritis.

Severus stepped back out into the corridor. "Expecto Patronum! Albus, a student is missing, Dirk Prentiss. I'm coming up." He raced after his patronus up two more flights of stairs to the headmaster's office. "Ice mice." The gargoyle moved aside. Albus was ready for him, talking to the portraits. "He didn't sign in with Argus," Severus said without preamble. "My prefects report no one saw him on the train, but he didn't stay here for Christmas, nor have I received correspondence from his family. Have you?"

Albus shook his head. "I sent Dilys to inquire at St. Mungo's. In the meantime, shall we floo Mr. Prentiss?"

Severus nodded and stepped to the hearth. He gathered a pinch of sparkling grey floo powder and threw it into the fire. "Number 6, Promenade of St. Giles, Aberdeen," Albus read from the massive registrar of students' home addresses. As soon as the flames turned green, Severus knelt to put his head in them and repeated the address. He closed his eyes until the whirl of fireplaces stopped. He was looking out into a dark room. From the greenish light on the hearth, he could make out faint details. The bones of the house looked fine: the floor was solid wood, and the firelight glinted off of gilded molding near the ceiling. Some of the furniture was covered in dust cloths. The rest of it and much of the floor was covered in garbage: empty and broken bottles, dirty dishes, soiled clothing, and scattered papers. And a discarded shrunken head rolled over near the fire. A doxy flew by to its nest in the corner. Charming. No wonder Dirk yearned for a Ministry job to escape this pigsty. "Hello! Floo call! This is Professor Severus Snape looking for Dirk Prentiss!" He waited but heard no answer. He shouted a few more times, but eventually had to give up. He pulled his head back out and turned to face Albus. "No answer. I could go through, but Alexandra Prentiss is in Azkaban for serving the Dark Lord. The house could be warded with something nasty for those seeking entry uninvited."

"No one by his name or description at St. Mungo's," former Headmistress Derwent reported, slipping back into her frame.

"Has Mr. Prentiss learnt the Patronus charm, Severus?"

Severus snorted. "From Slinkhard? No. Don't expect any of the seventh years to learn it in class this year." The current Defense Professor was even more useless than normal. Not only was he was a pacifist, he was an incompetent one. His only redeeming quality in Severus' view was his anal attention to correcting the students' grammar on the lengthy essays he assigned.

"So he will not be able to reply... Do you think it would be a risk to him should we reach out to him?"

Severus thought, then shook his head. "No matter who he's with, he is still a Hogwarts student. Even partisans shouldn't hurt him just because you're looking for a student."

"Very well. Expecto Patronum! Dirk Prentiss, if you are able, please report your location to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry." The great silver pheonix hovered a moment, then winged away through the window. Severus breathed a sigh of relief. The patronus was looking for him, so Dirk was alive.

"Excellent, it seems your student is well. He is of age, isn't he? Perhaps playing truant is his own choice."

"Alive is not the same as well, Albus." He was not in the mood for the headmaster's perpetual optimism, not when it amounted to condescension of his Slytherins.

The door opened. Minerva McGonagall walked in, face drawn, lips thin. "Severus, Ms. Jones reported to me when she could not find you: Mr. Prentiss is not in the Slytherin dormitories. She also reports none of Mr. Prentiss' friends have corresponded with him over the break. Gifts apparently were sent to him, but none received in return."

Severus cursed under his breath again. He grabbed another pinch of floo powder. "We need to search that house."

"If you must break in, at least go by the front door, Severus," Albus suggested with a soft chuckle.

"Fine. We'll do it properly. Ministry of Magic." He stepped through the floo into the Ministry atrium, empty except for the night guard at this time. Said night guard was not keeping watch, instead groping around under the desk. Albus stepped through behind him. Severus strode up to the desk and slapped the wood to get the man's attention. "There is a student missing from Hogwarts, Dirk Prentiss, eighteen," he announced when the wizard's startled head shot up. "Family is out of contact by floo. Please notify the auror on call that Headmaster Dumbledore and Professor Snape will be visiting the Prentiss residence in Aberdeen." He turned around and stalked back to Albus. "Have you ever been to Aberdeen?" he muttered.

"Once or twice." Albus offered his arm, and Severus took it. They disapparated away.

Notes:

Severus did say that Slytherin is the psychologically problematic house for a reason. It's funny, I think the only time anyone explicitly took attendance to make sure all the students showed up to term in the books was when Filch was checking everyone with a Probity Probe at the start of 6th year. The rest of the time, students just showed up on the train and walked right in, and role call didn't happen until class. It's not like Hagrid even checked names to make sure he had all the right first years, just "are y'all here? Follow me!"

Chapter 37: A Visit to the Underbelly

Albus apparated the pair of them to the yard of a wizarding pub near the Aberdeen city center. "I'm not sure where the Promenade of St. Giles is," the old wizard said, staring forlornly at the "closed" sign. It wasn't even that late, but perhaps the owner needed a rest after the New Years' celebrations. "Aberdeen does not have a dedicated wizarding residential sector."

"No matter, we'll find it," Severus said briskly. He led the way out into the street, looked around, and headed to the nearest open muggle establishment (another bar), transfiguring his outer robe into a trench coat as he went. Thank Merlin it was dark and gently snowing here. "Is the Promenade of St. Giles near here?" he asked the wizened barman. The muggle shook his head. "I need to use your phone, then. What is the number for the local taxi service?" The man handed him a laminated card without a word, staring over Severus' shoulder. Severus glanced back to see Albus standing in the doorway. The orange light of the streetlamps glinted off his spangled gold robes. Severus sighed inwardly. No wonder the muggle was staring. Severus quickly called the taxi service, pickup anticipated in five minutes. He handed the laminated card back to the muggle and jerked his head towards Albus. "Don't mind him. He's mad. Wandered off after the family's fancy dress New Years' party thinking he was still at home in Edinburgh. I'm trying to get him back to my cousin's."

The barman finally smiled; he had only one tooth. "Ach, then bless ye, lad, fer mindin' t' auld yin." Severus smiled tightly and left, taking Albus' arm again and directing him to wait on the walking path. They did not speak as they waited for the taxi, or on the short ride across town. Albus seemed content to inspect the interior of the taxi. The ancient wizard probably hadn't been inside a muggle automobile in decades, if ever. Yet Albus surprised him, fishing out several pounds to pay the driver once they arrived. Severus had merely planned to Confund the man.

The house was an old one made of stone. There was a small front garden complete with stone fountain and bench that likely would have been quite nice if anyone had bothered to trim the hedges and ornamental trees in the past five years: it was quite overgrown, with branches protruding over the walk at eye level and numerous sticks crunching underfoot. Severus suspected the snow hid mostly perennial weeds at this point rather than any useful herbs or flowers.

The wards proved to be less trouble than Severus had feared, mostly because the only lethal one fell in the presence of his Dark Mark. It took him and Albus only a few minutes to breach the others. The house remained silent when they reached the front door. Albus knocked politely. Severus rolled his eyes and pushed it open without waiting for a response. The inside smelled of mold, but not of putrefaction, fortunately.

"Lumos. Homenum Revelio."

Looking around, Severus spotted a human signal above them and to the left. It was the only person in the house, and he was certain there was no house elf with the level of grime and clutter. The two of them walked down the hall, skirting the many boxes of empty wine bottles and takeout food containers to find the stairs, also lined with bottles. Severus led the way upstairs. The first door at the top was the only one they had passed that seemed well-kept. There were no attendant piles of garbage and no cobwebs. Severus checked for spells on it, and finding none, cautiously pushed it open. It was a bedroom. Free of mold and dirt, but untidy, and clearly that of a teenager judging by the pile of school books and the Hogwarts robes carelessly left on the floor. Dirk's bedroom then, though he wasn't in here.

They moved on to the next room, where Severus could still see the human life sign glowing. This was the master bedroom, and it was rank with body odor. He surveyed the collection of empty wine and whiskey bottles, mildewed laundry, and a recent spatter of vomitus on the already stained oriental rug. And there was a snoring middle-aged, pot-bellied wizard passed out on the bed, wand discarded on the floor. The sheets looked to be made of silk, and were probably originally white, but were now an uneven yellow-brown. This was once a well-to-do family, now given over to waste, alcohol, and neglect. He suspected Dirk's mother had been the primary homemaker, before her imprisonment; he wondered if she joined the Death Eaters to get away from her useless slob of a husband, or if he had only turned to drink in her absence. He hadn't known the couple well during the war. With a small sound of disgust, Severus strode through the mess and prodded the man. He grunted in his sleep. Thoroughly annoyed, Severus woke him up with a light stinging hex. The wizard yelped and rolled onto the floor with a loud thunk.

"Get up, Mr. Prentiss," Severus drawled.

"Who's 'ere?" Prentiss mumbled blearily. "Ge' oot m'house..."

"As if you have retained any authority over this property, you sloven. I could have killed you as you slept, and no one would have noticed for weeks," Severus said venomously.

"Severus, remember why we are here."

"Sev'rus... Snape?" Prentiss squinted up at him.

"Professor Severus Snape," he corrected. "And Headmaster Dumbledore. Tell me, Mr. Prentiss, where is your son? He is not at Hogwarts, nor I am told was he on the Hogwarts Express. Nor is he in his room."

"Wh... whit day is't?"

"Second of January."

"Dirk shoo' be at school then..."

"But he isn't!" Severus hissed furiously. Merlin, he hated dealing with drunkards, he hated dealing with idiots, and drunken idiots were the absolute worst. "When did you last see him?"

"He wis 'ere Boxin' Day, Ah think."

"You think?"

"Ah ken," Prentiss said quickly, cowering before him.

"Where might your son have gone for Hogmanay, Mr. Prentiss?" Albus cut in kindly from behind Severus.

"Ah dinnae..." he quailed under Severus' glare again. "Ach... his coosin! Coosin Marius Abernathay!"

"Who lives where?"

"Ah... cannae mind."

"We'll find it," Albus said firmly. He tugged on Severus' shoulder. With a final glare at the pathetic figure of Dirk's failure of a father, he turned and walked out. It took a little back-and-forth with Minerva to check the registrar for the Abernathay address, but they found the large, well-kept house eventually. Marius' grandmother answered the door, only to direct them to Marius' flat in London. The flat proved empty as well, but Severus saw enough to have a pretty good idea of where both Marius and Dirk probably were. They flooed from the flat to the Leaky Cauldron.

"Check with Tom to see if he's here, would you, Albus?" Severus said. "I'll go out and check the other boarding houses."

"If you say so, my boy," Albus replied easily. His eyes were twinkling. He probably suspected where Severus was actually going to look. But damnit, if Dirk was where Severus thought he was, the boy did not need the Headmaster to see him there.

Severus scowled and walked out of the pub. He drew his hood up and kept to the shadowed eaves as he walked quickly to the entrance of Knockturn Alley. He walked past Msaw Ætare, Noggin and Bonce, the dubious apothecary, the Society for the Reformation of Hags, Borgin and Burke's, and finally entered Tallow and Hemp, a shop smelling strongly of incense, with a sales room much smaller than it should be. A witch at the counter glanced up in disinterest before looking back at her copy of Witch Weekly. "Back room," he said quietly.

"Password?"

"Bacchus."

She nodded and waved him towards the beaded doorway. He walked through into a narrow hallway. A thin-faced young man slouched halfway along the hall. Severus recognized him, a former Slytherin who had graduated two years ago. "Potions, or are you here to put your wand in the Chamber of Secrets?" he called out in a bored voice.

"Neither," Severus said icily.

The young wizard straightened up as if struck by lightning. "Professor Snape?" he whimpered.

"Got it in one, Mr. Dorchester."

"Aw, hell."

"No, I'm not pleased to see you here either. I suppose you're squandering your Outstanding potions N.E.W.T. brewing illicit substances for the pleasure of the gentry and the doom of the addicted?"

The lad cringed and nodded. He probably shouldn't be quite so hard on him; Severus had done the same for the first three months out of Hogwarts before officially earning his place in the Death Eaters. It's the only reason he knew the password, which hadn't changed in a century. There was no need, as the aurors never tried to shut down this house of ill repute, probably because there was always someone high enough in the Ministry hierarchy patronizing it. And bribes of course.

"Noted. As I am now Head of House Slytherin, I expect you to let me know when you need a transcript to apply for an alternative vocation. I will look for your owl in the next month. Now, where might I find Dirk Prentiss?"

"I don't know him."

"You should. He's a current seventh year student in your very own former House. But perhaps not. Where might I find his cousin Marius Abernathay, then? He is, I believe, a frequent visitor of this establishment." He withdrew the stamped tin ampule he had pocketed in Marius' flat and tossed it on the floor.

"Third curtain on the left," came the resigned answer.

"Thank you."

He walked directly to the doorway and yanked aside the flimsy curtain to step into the dimly lit room. There were a number of young people strewn about the shabby chairs and couches. Almost all of them appeared to be stuporous, no doubt sleeping off the effects of far too much alcohol and Elixir to Induce Euphoria, or something more sinister. He flicked his wand to cover up a few in an excessive degree of undress.

He spied Dirk, finally, slumped over on the end of a couch. One of the Knockturn Alley locals had her head pillowed on his lap. He didn't recognize her, which meant she was either older than he was and using charms to keep her looks young enough for her profession, or she was a squib, which boded poorly for her longevity in this neighborhood. She was, at least, awake enough to look up at him. "Who are you?" she asked sleepily. "Do we need to extend the room again? Ask that one for the money." She pointed across the room to a richly dressed young wizard.

Severus shook his head. "I am not the proprietor. Get up."

Her eyes widened and turned vaguely fearful. She sat up quickly, straightened her rumpled robes, and grabbed her red shawl. "I'll leave. I didn't see you."

"I'm not here to hurt you, or anyone," he said irritably as he picked his way through the tumbled bodies. She hesitated, uncertain. He brushed past her to grab Dirk's shoulder, shaking it roughly. "Wake up, you idiot." Dirk remained dead to the world. "What did he take?"

"Him? Uh, mostly just firewhiskey I think. And some muggle weed and Ecstasy. Might have had a couple Stingers too before he passed out. I don't think he had any of the Euphoria or the muggle Speed. He was definitely out of it by the time Marius brought out the Insanity Sprinkles. You his dad?"

"Worse. I'm his head of house." Severus drew his wand.

"Oh! You must have sent the talking silver bird thing! I thought I was hallucinating!"

"The patronus belonged to Headmaster Dumbledore," he corrected.

"Dumbledore's here?! The Albus Dumbledore?! Is it true he-"

"Quiet." He cast a quick diagnostic charm to make sure the boy was not dying of acute liver failure or something; he wasn't. Lacking any of his usual potions supplies except a bezoar that probably wasn't needed, he conjured first a goblet and water to fill it, then intoned "Inbibere," causing the water to flow into Dirk's mouth and safely down into his stomach. Many of alcohol's more toxic effects after the binge came down to dehydration. "Redirestasis. Rennervate."

It took a minute for Dirk's body to redeploy its fluids and salts sufficiently for him to wake up. When his eyelids did eventually flutter open, he looked first confused, then pained, then finally alarmed. "Professor Snape?" he slurred.

"You missed the train."

"How'd ye find me? Why'd ye..."

"You are my student, and I am good at what I do. Now get up."

Dirk groaned but couldn't be bothered to refuse him. He slowly sat up, but then slouched forwards with another groan to support his head in his hands. "Ah think A'm aff tae be sick." His Scotch accent was certainly more evident when he was drunk, Severus noted. Most Slytherin purebloods tried to blunt their regional accents in public to conform with the most aristocratic representative of the Sacred Twenty-Eight; currently at Hogwarts, that was of course Augusta Selwyn, who hailed from Gloucestershire.

"Yes, you are," Severus told him unsympathetically. "You knew that before you started drinking, though. Come on. I'll get you to the hospital wing."

"Whitsi' matter...I don' wan' go back. I'll be 'ere in six moonths anyway... Ye ken it. Ah ken it. Me Da ken..."

Unexpectedly, it was the courtesan who snapped him out of his maudlin self-involvement. She slapped him across the face. "You moron! If I'd've known you were still at Hogwarts, I'd have kicked you out of the club myself yesterday! Of course you got to go back! I'd give my hand to go to Hogwarts, and you'll throw it away? You privileged goat! Go on! Get out! Get out!" She hammered on his shoulder with her fists until in desperation, Dirk heaved himself up and lurched away. At the doorway, Severus nodded to the squib and flipped her a galleon. He grabbed Dirk's bicep and hauled him unceremoniously out of the establishment and up the street to the corner of Knockturn and Diagon. Predictably, Albus was waiting for them there, apparently taking in the gaudy Christmas display at Twilfitt and Tatting.

"If you buy any of those robes, I will use them to strangle you," Severus muttered to him. Albus merely chuckled as all three of them apparated back to the edge of the Hogwarts wards. Dirk took the opportunity to vomit on Severus' robes.

Notes:

Bit of a downer chapter, sorry. There's obviously not a lot in canon about substance use, since kids books, but it's certainly hinted at with the existence of the Elixir to Induce Euphoria and Essence of Insanity, amongst others. "Stingers" is a reference to billiwig stings; it's mentioned in Fantastic Beasts that billiwig venom causes hallucinations. I made up the healing spells Severus used except for Rennervate.

Chapter 38: Ode to Snape

Happy birthday, Severus! How does it feel to be a quarter century old? -P

Much the same as always -S

Yes, that's what I thought, too, when I turned twenty-five, but my in-laws put a lot of emphasis on the round-number birthdays and anniversaries, so it felt wrong not to ask. I hope that owl got the blancmange to you intact? -P

It did. Much appreciated. -S

I have to tell you what the boys were doing today, it was so funny. I took them over to Arabella's to play with the cats while I ran errands. She let them out in her back yard, and they discovered one of the cats had a new litter of kittens underneath the stoop where it hides the crawl space. They thought it must be too cold under the house for the babies, plus they really wanted to play with them, but none of the kittens would come out.

Does this story involve them both getting absolutely covered in mud after creeping underneath Mrs. Figg's house in a daring kitten rescue? -S

No, actually. On the contrary, they knew I wouldn't approve of that, so instead they decided to lure the kittens out. But not with food. Instead, they went back inside and got into Arabella's bedroom, where they discovered her makeup case and a trunk of hats, mittens, and scarves. -P

...I have no idea where this is going, but it sounds promising. Please continue -S

They painted 'fur' and 'whiskers' on their faces, tied scarves around their waists, then went back down into the yard to kneel down at the base of the house and meowed at the mother cat and her kittens -P

Interesting. The logic of four-year-olds never ceases to amaze. Did Arabella happen to get pictures? -S

She did! She actually caught them while they were still putting their costumes together, but she decided it was funny enough she'd sacrifice the makeup she never uses anyway and a couple of older scarves to the cause. She gave me the films to develop sometime this week -P

Perfect -S

They never did get the kittens out. Probably scared the living daylights out of the mother cat, too. Did you have a good day? -P

Excepting the two hour session of counseling and detention with one of my seventh years, I suppose I did. -S

School's only been back for a week! How did he get detention so quickly? -P

I pulled him out of a drug den in London after he missed the train back to school -S

Petunia set down her pen for a moment. It was times like these when she questioned the wisdom of sending Harry to that school in a few years. She knew she had to, that he needed a magical education she could not provide, that he would probably love it as Lily did, and that Severus would look out for him. But Hogwarts still seemed like an extremely unsafe environment, all things considered. She picked up the pen again. That is not what I was expecting -P

Can't say I'd planned for it either -S

Sounds awful. Is there a lot of that at Hogwarts? Lily never mentioned it, but maybe she didn't know. -P

Dangerous substance use is not common  at  school, apart from 'study aids' during exam season, but it is certainly known in the wizarding world. Lily would have known about it (all potioneers do), but she never associated with any users that I knew of. I don't expect this student to successfully smuggle anything into school. This could even prove a one-off event for him, since it was his first time experimenting with anything but alcohol, but I am concerned about his future. -S

Do you want to talk about it? -P

I don't mind telling you about the situation with the boy. It's been a headache. We spent a long time talking about his home this evening, with little to show for it. I'm not really sure how to help him. His family does not lack financial resources exactly, but his father is useless, alcoholic, spendthrift, and neglectful, and his mother is in prison. His other close relatives are little better. He was fourteen when the war ended and threw all of his expectations for his future into disarray. For him, the end of the war was truly an awful thing, splitting his family apart and destroying any hope for a healthy, happy home. Of course, his parents were absent a lot even before then. Hogwarts is the only environment that has ever tried to enforce some discipline on him, but he disdains it. He's just not socially prepared to graduate, and yet was deluded that he would somehow coast into a Ministry job until his recent application was rejected without interview. If the war were still on, he'd surely be sucked into the Death Eaters by default for lack of other productive avenues. -S

Sounds like he's had a hard wakeup call. I think I know someone like that, actually -P

Who? -S

Rachel's ex-husband, Phillip. His family was pretty posh once upon a time, and he lived like a prince growing up. Married Rachel while he was still in university for a business degree, living on his parents' income. Then his father lost the family fortune in the stock market crash of 1973-74, and their company went under. Phillip was all set to take a vice-presidency job at the company at the time, with one term to go at uni and an infant at home. The family had to scramble like mad, and he was admitted to the hospital with a nervous breakdown for a few weeks because of it. He did eventually finish his degree and get a different job. Did pretty well for himself in the end, until he and Rachel split up of course. -P

Well, I managed to drag him back to school, so I suppose there's hope for him. I also started reading those books you gave me for Christmas, in case they offer any brilliant insights to help -S

With your iron grip steering him straight, I'm sure he'll pull through. How many detentions does he have? -P

Eight. One for every class he missed while recuperating -S

Are they all with you? -P

I'm a glutton for punishment, yes -S

And as sarcastic as ever. Sometimes, Petunia wondered if Severus was even able to fool himself that he didn't care about his job and his students when he so obviously did. No, you're trying to do right by him. I have little doubt those so-called detentions will function as more counseling time -P

Ah, my devious plot is uncovered -S

I know you, Sev, and don't forget I'm just as Slytherin as you! That Hat said so! It's a good thing you're doing. You said it already: he doesn't have a father worth mentioning and needs discipline. You can provide that -P

He's only six years younger than me, Petunia. I don't think I can persuade him to let me be a parent figure, even if I wanted to -S

Older brother, then. It amounts to the same thing. And don't underestimate yourself. You're always doing that, and it's annoying -P

Yes, mother -S

Petunia grinned. See? And I'm only two years older than you! It works! -P

I walked into that one -S

She snickered. Yes, you did. On the subject of parenthood, what do you think about baby names? We're wanting to stick with my family's flower naming scheme without reusing anything. So not Lily or Iris, and not Aster (my grandmother). I'd be interested in your thoughts. My mother-in-law suggested Sweetpea... Can you imagine that as a legal name, not just nickname? I do like Dorothy, hard not to, but that was too much, even from her -P

Her mother-in-law's tastes were just too saccharine. Everything in her house was cutesy, and most of it pink, except for her dour husband's scattered belongings. Petunia was sure that Severus' opinion, while potentially eccentric due to his innate wizardness, would be more carefully considered and subdued. Meanwhile, Vernon was stuck on Rose, which was... fine. Petunia wanted her daughter's name to speak to her, to mean something! Rose just didn't. The flower had so many associations, so many of them commercial, she just didn't like it much.

I'll think on it. I hope to do better than Sweetpea, at least -S

Did you do anything actually celebratory for your birthday? -P

The Sorting Hat woke me up with a song this morning. Does that count? -S

Depends. Did you enjoy it? -P

No -S

Then no. Get out and live a little, Sev! In fact, I demand you set aside some time next weekend to come out for a visit. It will be good for you -P

I'll see what I can do. One of my prefects is determined to fill my calendar with other duties, but I can stomp on her plans if necessary -S

Is that Gwenog? I thought you liked her -P

I do. She just has energy levels several standard deviations above the norm and believes everyone else does as well. We must all be grateful she expends so much time captaining a quidditch team -S

Sounds like a lively girl. So, do you remember any of the Hat's birthday song? -P

There was a long pause before his reply came. I wish you hadn't asked. I'm wearing the Hat at the moment, and it has insisted on repeating the entire thing, with revisions to see if I like this iteration better. No, Hat, I do not. It is still utterly trite and insipid, and I hate it... And now it's insisting I write it all down for you so you can judge for yourself. I'm really coming to hate this thing. Three more weeks, and then I'm rid of it for good. -S

Petunia snorted with laughter again. Severus' spat with the Hogwarts Sorting Hat was always amusing. Oh, go on, Sev. I want to see what it came up with -P

I doubt it. The Hat's poetry is of a taste that cannot be acquired -S

Now you're just insulting the poor thing -P

Yes, I am. I am thinking very vicious things at it indeed. And the revenge is sweet -S

That's mean. Come on, write it down! -P

No -S

You can't refuse my irrational demands - I'm pregnant! Please? -P

Oh, very well. I'll listen to it a third time and transcribe it,  just for you:

"Oh, you've turned twenty-five today,

A quarter century older!"

- Egad, it's specifying the punctuation too. I hate everything. -

"People think you're still finding your way,

But truth is, you're an old soldier:

You fill your days with worry,

Always trying to stay sane,

While that sweet heart you bury

Breaking forth brings you dull pain.

Fear not, silly teacher,

You're a good one through and through:

You wear black and play the creature

Of the dungeons, but I know you:

You're good, and smart, and kind,

Really, really, deep far down."

- How flattering -

"And if you smile today you'll find,

It's way more pleasant than to frown.

I see you sit there, twenty-five,

Thinking that your path is set,

But you  are  alive!

Your life's no more decided than the teens I usually get.

You don't feel ready,

But you are.

You'll go steady,

You'll go far!

So happy birthday, Severus Snape.

Let a brave new world take shape

Around you and enfolding,

Molding now, and later holding.

You can stay the dungeon bat,

But only with the caveat,

You never hide your good true self

From true good friends, or from yourself."

Despicable, isn't it? -S

You would say that. In truth, Petunia rather liked the poem, insofar as it was a good read on Severus. She suspected he tolerated it more than he said as well, or else he'd never have given in to show it to her. It was the definition of cheesy, though, and she could imagine he would find it mortifying to be sung aloud to him. Hopefully, the Sorting Hat had enough sense not to sing it where anyone else might have heard. I hope you don't regret sharing it with me. And with Vernon -P

Merlin, I forgot he reads this sometimes -S

Don't worry, you've covered your bases well enough insulting the thing to maintain your manly reputation -P

I hate you -S

No, you don't. Funny, how many of their conversations included that little six-word backhanded endearment, though usually she was the one hating on Severus. Well, happy birthday, Sev. From me and from the boys -P

Thank you -S

"Mum! Come play with us!"

"In a moment, Diddy." Boys calling. Got to run -P "What are we playing?"

"Doctor! The baby has a cold." Harry solemnly presented their plastic baby doll, which opened its mouth to cough once.

Ugh, the moving doll again. Of course it "had a cold;" both the boys had runny noses and sore throats last week. Hopefully, Harry only made it cough, not produce snot or other gross substances. She definitely needed to ask Severus to keep Harry from animating it somehow. One more thing, Sev, is there a way for you to enchant toys so that Harry can't influence it with magic? It would be much appreciated. It's that doll I got them for Christmas. Harry keeps making it move and it's creepy -P

Hmm, he has a penchant for charms, it seems. Lily was good with them as well. There is not a good general anti-magicking charm, but I might be able to come up with something myself, either by tweaking a shield charm or designing a specialty potion that could resist at least some effects. I'll do some experimenting and let you know. Good night -S

Good night -P She tucked the journal away and turned to the boys. "Well, I suppose we must fix the baby some soup and give her some medicine then, eh?"

Dudley and Harry both smiled and nodded happily.

Notes:

Of course the Hat would give Severus a birthday song. And of course, Severus would hate it, lol. Side note, it's kind of funny how much random poetry I end up writing for my various fanfictions, when I'm not usually inclined to poetry, either reading or writing. No offense to anyone who is named Rose or Sweetpea; I have nothing against those names, but they don't fit with my version of Petunia's character.

Chapter 39: On Equity and Realism

"This isnae fair," Dirk complained after about twenty minutes of cauldron scrubbing.

Severus applied the final grade (Dreadful) of the current essay he was reviewing with an unnecessary flourish and fought not to roll his eyes. On the contrary, you made a bad life decision and are now reaping the expected consequences. It is the definition of fairness. He didn't voice his thoughts aloud. Instead, he asked neutrally, "What isn't fair?"

"All of it."

"I'm with you. He's so whiney," the disillusioned Sorting Hat complained quietly.

"You will have to be more specific," Severus said, ignoring the Hat's running commentary as usual.

Dirk threw his rag back into his bucket of cauldron cleaner and sat back on his heels with a surly frown. "Fer one thing, why eight detentions for something I did while on break?"

"I'm sure I told you to expect a detention for every class you missed while in the hospital wing."

"An' why was I there so long?"

Severus raised an eyebrow. "What did you expect after imbibing multiple magical and mundane intoxicating substances to the point of losing consciousness?"

"Aren't ye a potions master? Ye could have got me out earlier if ye cared tae."

"I see you learned nothing from the soporific episode in November. Or did you think I allowed half my own seventh years to languish in the hospital wing for a week intentionally?" He probably would have, to be honest, but Poppy wouldn't. Severus made a mental note to put together a lecture on the nature of intoxicants for the seventh years. It wasn't part of the standard curriculum, but they were clearly misinformed. "Trust me, the only reason you earned your detentions is because of what you did."

"Whatever. I shouldn't have bin in Tallow and Hemp, I ken it. But I wouldn't have bin there if..."

"Yes?"

"If I'd have just gotten the interview I was supposed tae."

"You were supposed to get the interview, were you? How's that?" Severus asked idly.

Dirk glared at him and took a deep, affronted breath. "My grandfather -"

"Is dead."

"That's a little too blunt," supplied the Hat.

The teenager sneered. "You wouldn't ken, halfbreed."

"Oh, wouldn't I? You think those with mixed heritage are ignorant of pureblood privilege?"

"Some privilege! I'd have got the interview if..."

"If your grades were better? If your application letter reflected more nuance and willingness to work rather than an unearned expectation of preeminence?"

"Ouch! You're on fire this evening, Professor Snape!" the Hat chuckled in his ear.

"Sod off."

"The truth is, Mr. Prentiss, your application, which you may recall I personally reviewed at your insistence during our first detention together, was weak. The truth is, the other applications received, some from halfbloods or even muggleborns, were simply better. You are correct that that would not have mattered twenty or even ten years ago, when your family's connections could have gotten you the position, deserved or not. But your family's name is tarnished by the fact that your parents fought on the losing side of the war."

"You're one tae talk!"

Severus met his glare. "I am, yes. Unlike most who would advise you, I both know what I am talking about and am unafraid to be frank with you. Your mother went down with the ship. Your father, the fat drunk I had the displeasure of meeting this month, has squandered his freedom and done nothing to salvage your family's reputation."

"Ye can' talk aboot my father like that!"

"How would you describe him then?"

"He... he took it hard when Ma was locked up!"

"I'm sure he did. But that is no excuse for neglecting his duty to care for you, his only son. If he had imitated Lord Malfoy and publicly reformed himself, or Merlin if he had simply stayed off the drink and kept house a little, enough to notice you needed a parent to talk to, you might not be in this situation."

"Ye wan' him tae give up his honor!" Dirk's eyes were watering, Severus noticed. Fumes or fury, one of the two.

"I want him to be a responsible parent," Severus corrected. "Just as I want you to be a responsible student and eventually a successful young man. I cannot help your father, unfortunately, but you are within my purview."

Dirk huffed sulkily and resumed scrubbing his cauldron with a vengeance. "How are you going tae help? Going tae git me a job brewin' and dealin' fer Tallow and Hemp instead of buying?"

Severus smiled thinly. It was not surprising a boy like Dirk thought so little of him, even ignoring his muggle father. If not for the war, then by all rights one of Severus' class should have aimed no higher than a brewing job at an apothecary, illicitly or otherwise. If one dismissed Severus' professorship as an undeserved example of Albus Dumbledore's eccentricity, then Severus had so far only shown his ability to tear the privileged down and to leech above his natural station. It was another part of his own reputation he needed to correct. Somehow. "Hardly. A scut job in Knockturn is not my definition of 'successful,' nor should it be yours. Tell me, Mr. Prentiss, why did your parents champion the Dark Lord's cause? They were not there for the violence, I can tell you."

"Blood purity," Dirk grunted simply, as if that explained it all. Of course, it did really. The Prentisses were interested in preserving the hierarchy, nothing more.

"Now, tell me why the Dark Lord supported blood purity," Severus asked softly. Dirk looked up at him, clearly confused. Severus' smile widened. "It wasn't the same reason, or else I would not be having this conversation with you, would I? Son of a muggle as I am. No, the Dark Lord's philosophy was 'Magic is Might.' Any of sufficient magical talent willing to swear allegiance were welcome, no matter their birth or class. Purebloods were favored not arbitrarily but because of the promise of their heritage. It is well-known, after all, that certain talents run in families: parseltongue and metamorphagism for example.

"I tell you it is not hypocritical or dishonorable to expect your father to do something with his life other than mourn his own bad luck and decisions. Just the same, it is not beneath you, or him, or me, or anyone to work for what you want. If you tell me you still want a job at the Ministry, then put in the effort to get it! Study hard for your N.E.W.T.s. Go to networking events and meet people who can help you with your goals, even if they aren't pureblood. Hold your nose and take a job you don't want that will help build your resume. Hold your father accountable and get your house in order so it's not an embarrassment to receive a floo call there."

"Ah cannae take o'er the runnin' of th' hoose!" Dirk suddenly protested with wide eyes. "My Da will kill me!"

"If he's sober enough to notice."

"Stop bad-mouthing the lad's father," the Sorting Hat hissed.

He'd be better off learning not to respect his father, Severus thought back at it, recalling the man's unkempt and smelly bedroom in nauseating detail for the Hat's benefit. He had left the ancient artifact on Albus' desk before flitting all over the country looking for his errant student.

..."You may be right," it whispered.

"He gets mad, scary mad, when he's off the drink and has tae go oot tae buy more," Dirk explained.

"Then you either send him to St. Mungo's to dry out once and for all where they can deal with his outbursts, or you keep him happy in his disgusting room and learn well how to defend yourself if necessary. Then once you're in a solid independent financial situation, you move out without discussing it with him first. There is no problem that does not have a solution, if you're willing to take it, Mr. Prentiss. And I can help you with whichever avenue you choose." Severus knew all about committing parents to the hospital.

Dirk shook his head. "Ah cannae go against my fam'ly. Ah cannae. Ye dinnae ken. Ye're dad's a muggle."

"Was. Take it from a man whose parents are both dead: one day, you will be your family. Fortune willing, you will also be head of a family of your own. You can choose to inherit a legacy you find shameful, or you can make something better of your life and make your legacy your own. From where I'm sitting, you owe little or nothing to the man who couldn't be bothered to make sure you were safe and returning to school on time." He leaned forwards a little. "I promise you, if you work your way past your current circumstances, past future setbacks, past your delusional longing for what is in fact un-owed, past all that to become someone you are proud of... it is worth it. Even if you feel an imposter or a hypocrite at first, even if and when you succeed you have to force your father to see what you are worth; he would ultimately be proud, because success is what every parent wants for their child." He leaned back again. "Or you can continue to bemoan the cruelty of an uncaring world, use alcohol and drugs and potions to forget your problems, and allow your family name to drift on into ignominy."

"I thought a head o' hoose was supposed tae be encouraging," Dirk grumbled.

"If you want coddling, go to Madam Pomphrey. I am not trying to discourage you, Mr. Prentiss. Quite the opposite. I merely want you to reach your full potential, and I happen to disagree with the way you're going about it. You are not stupid, but you are lazy, and you are following the playbook that has been given to you by a father and a cousin whom you should not admire. I am aware you do not like hearing this, but the best thing I can do for you is to help you realize you do not have to follow in your father's footsteps. To put it bluntly, your father is a weak man and a neglectful parent. You should not tie yourself to him out of a misguided sense of familial loyalty. He does not deserve it. You need to accept and own that fact before you will be able to move on with your own life. Find someone else to look up to." He waited, watching the teen's angry tears threatening to fall. And yet Dirk remained silent, neither accepting nor arguing with Severus' assessment. He continued more gently, "You can recognize your father's faults and still love him, you know. Love and hate, respect and disdain, loyalty and disloyalty, these are all emotions that can be held independently of one another. You can love a person and still decide to betray them. You can hate a person and still respect them in some ways." He grinned crookedly, knowing that latter was probably what Dirk felt for him at the moment.

Dirk glared at him a bit longer, then sighed and started scrubbing his cauldron again. "I need tae think."

Severus nodded. End of discussion for this evening then, and not a terrible place to end it. "Good. I need to grade. But remember, Mr. Prentiss, I am here for you. You might not like me, but never think that I neglect my own responsibilities. I don't."

"I ken, Professor."

"You know, if that boy doesn't decide to go back to that place, overdose on something horrible, and kill himself, he might decide to kill you instead, Professor," the Hat suggested after a few minutes. "You were fairly merciless there. Not that I disagree with anything you said, but it was clearly hard for him to hear."

There is a reason I always carry a bezoar in my pocket, Severus thought wryly. And I've only got six months to help him face reality before he graduates. I don't have time to be gentle. Or the expertise. I'm not a mind healer or a therapist.

Notes:

Life is hard when you're a teenager who has been told to expect a lifestyle that isn't realistic and has learned to deny the evidence of your own eyes. Meanwhile, Severus still only has a few modes amongst the students: tough love is the best he can offer at the moment.

Chapter 40: What's in a Name

Petunia brought Dudley and Harry with her to her second prenatal visit to the gynecologist. They were both nervous at first upon arriving at the clinic, thinking they would be getting more vaccinations. When she explained that no, she was the one visiting the doctor today, their concerns transferred instantly to her. They settled down again when she explained no one was getting any needles, but that they might be able to hear their little sister's heartbeat today. They followed her eagerly to the examination room after that.

The doctor was satisfied that the pregnancy was going well. Her weight was on track. Her morning sickness had subsided as it was supposed to. Her blood pressure was normal. When Petunia lay back on the examination table with her shirt tucked up beneath her breasts for the doctor to measure her womb, two curious heads popped up next to her.

"Mummy's still not very fat," Dudley observed. "When does she get fat?"

"The baby will start showing more soon," the doctor promised with a gentle laugh as she pressed down on Petunia's lower abdomen. "I can already feel it here."

"She's a girl, not an it," Harry corrected primly.

"You're hoping for a little sister, are you?"

"She is a girl," Harry insisted.

"Well, maybe she is at that. But don't be disappointed if she changes into a boy between now and June."

Harry's eyes widened. "Can that happen?"

"You never know," the doctor said mysteriously. She laid a measuring tape across the skin, then rolled it up again and set it aside. "Mrs. Dursley, would you like me to show your children what I'm palpating for?"

"Oh! Yes, please."

"What are your names?"

"I'm Dudley, and he's Harry."

"Alright, who wants to go first?"

"Duddy does," Harry said. The doctor raised her eyebrows in amusement. Harry shrugged. "Duddy always wants to go first."

"I commend your patience, young man."

Dudley looked conflicted, both annoyed at Harry somehow upstaging him in the doctor's estimation and simultaneously, yes, absolutely wanting to go first. His curiosity about his younger sister won out. "I go first."

"Say thank you to Harry," Petunia ordered him.

"Thank you, Harry." Dudley stretched out his little hand and rested it on Petunia's belly. The doctor gently took it, moved it a little, and pushed it down so as to feel the firm, muscular organ. "It's hard," Dudley said.

"Yes, that's your mummy's womb. The baby is inside. It will get bigger as the baby does."

"Oh."

"Me next!" Harry cried, reaching his own hand forwards. The doctor obligingly helped him feel as well. Harry grinned widely when he was done and leaned forwards to put his head close to Petunia's belly. "I love you!" he whispered loudly.

Petunia and the doctor both smiled at eachother. Dudley immediately imitated Harry . "I love you more!" he whispered, and planted a kiss on the side of Petunia's abdomen.

Harry looked annoyed and elbowed Dudley. He held up his arms, reaching out as far as he could to each side. "I love her this much."

"Well, I love her this much," Dudley said stubbornly. His arm span was a shade wider than Harry's. Harry scowled to see it and wiggled his fingers, trying and failing to stretch his hands even wider.

"It's not fair. You're bigger than me!"

The doctor smoothly interrupted this little rivalry. "Alright, I'll be measuring the heartbeat next. Move back a little, boys." The doctor took out a handheld ultrasound recorder and squeezed some thick gel onto the probe. It was cold when it touched Petunia's skin, where the boys' warm hands had been just moments before. And there it was, the fast blip-blip-blip of her daughter's fetal heart tone. She felt a warm, happy sensation all through her chest at the precious sound. Petunia beamed and reached a hand out to the side. The boys trotted to her side immediately, argument forgotten. She stroked their hair.

"One hundred and fifty-one, right in normal range," the doctor declared. She wiped off the gel and helped Petunia sit back up. "Everything looks good today. Do you have any questions for me?"

"No, I'm feeling really quite good this time around."

"Second pregnancies are often easier than the first," the doctor agreed. "Alright then, we are done. I'll see you again in about six weeks, but call if you have any questions or concerns before then."

"Thank you."

"And bring the boys back! They're a treat."

Petunia bundled the boys up again before leading them out of the clinic and into the cold wind. "Keep hold of me, you two. I need to pick up some vitamins before we go back home."

"What's vitamins?"

"It's the pill Mummy takes in the morning, Diddy. It has extra nutrients that help keep the baby healthy."

"Nutrients?"

"Nutrients are the parts of food that are good for you. There are different kinds, depending on what you're eating."

"Like what?"

"Well, most foods are made of a combination of carbohydrates which is like sugar, fat, and protein which is like meat. But then there are other things present in smaller amounts, and these are the minerals and vitamins. Like salt. That's a mineral. Um, vitamins are a little different: they don't taste good, but if you don't have enough of them, you can get sick. And the baby needs extra vitamins because she's so small and growing so fast, which is why Mummy needs the pill, not just the vitamins naturally present in food."

"Oh."

"Is vitamins why you make Harry and me eat gross green things?"

Petunia grinned. "Yes. Spinach, peas, and broccoli are good for you. They have a lot of vitamins."

"Can I eat a pill instead?"

"No."

"Why?"

"Because."

"Because why?"

"Because I said so."

Dudley stamped his little foot and groaned in frustration, but that was the extent of his protest, as they had now reached the pharmacy.

"Why don't we see if there's a picture book about food and nutrition at the library on our way home?"

"Ooh, yes!"

"And one about cars!"

"And one about dragons!"

"And one about... dragons driving cars!"

"That would be so cool!" The boys jostled together, excitedly coming up with more and more fantastical picture book concepts. Petunia smiled and hummed a little as she led them up and down the pharmacy aisles. It really was a remarkable change time and day school had wrought. It was just over a year ago that they had been still constantly at each other's throats and pitching awful tantrums that made Petunia feel like a failure as a mother and want to weep in frustration. And now instead the boys were best friends with a healthy sibling rivalry. It gave one hope for the future, to see how much good could come from a starting point of such stress and grief.

---

First day of February. That meant the new Dueling Club would be starting in one week. It meant half of Dirk Prentiss' weekly detentions/counseling sessions were done. It meant Severus would need to brew extra stock of love potion antidote, and that he would be torturing himself by forcing the fourth year classes to learn, for their own good, potions to prevent pregnancy and treat sexually transmitted infections. Maybe he would do the intoxicant lecture for the seventh years the same week to get the pain over with; that lecture was coming together surprisingly quickly, after he'd owled Dorchester at Tallow and Hemp to get updated information on what potions and muggle substances were currently most popular.

Most importantly, it meant the dreaded Hat had been handed off to Filius, without ceremony. Thank Merlin. Severus made a beeline for the Protean journal as soon as he returned to his quarters after Dirk's detention. Petunia had asked whether he had any suggestions for baby names. He had not wanted to risk the Hat picking the winning name so he had merely said he would think on it, and closed his mind to the Hat's nattering every time it raised the subject (which it did, about four times per day). He had quite a few names stirring in the back of his mind now.

Petunia, I have given the matter some thought and have several floral suggestions:  I prefer Dahlia, for the alliteration to match with Dudley. The flower is native of the Americas, but due to its beauty has made its way into the traditional language of flowers, symbolizing beauty and dignity. The roots also have some medicinal value against infant colic, which could be construed as good luck. Daisy would also fit the bill on the alliterative front, and it symbolizes innocence and joy. But it might be too common, and the only medicinal value is in an unappealing wound poultice. Alternatively, Violet may suit, if you wished her to share initials with Vernon. This also stands for innocence, and humility. Violets have more uses than either daisies or dahlias, helping with sleep, inflammation, and even some disorders of the nervous system when prepared properly in a copper cauldron. They also make flavorful teas and elegant confections when candied. There are plenty of other possibilities I could recommend, if none of these suit. -S

He had tried to come up with a good option starting with 'P,' but he didn't want to inadvertently name her after the Hogwarts Matron, and he loathed the names Pansy, Peony and Primrose. He had also thought about Heather, Holly, Ivy, Laurel, and Lavender, which would recall Harry, Iris, and Lily, respectively, but decided against recommending them unless his initial thoughts were rejected. He had never liked the name Daphne. Dianella he quite liked, but the flower's other name was Flax Lily, and he wasn't sure how Petunia would take the suggestion for that reason. Freesia and Jasmine he also reserved; they were pretty, and the taste of the flowers in a green or lemon tea set them apart. Silene he liked the sound of, despite its prosaic uses. Veronica was an option, but did not roll off the tongue so well as Violet, nor did he find the flowers as attractive. He liked Wisteria vines but considered the name unacceptable because that was also a street in the Dursley's neighborhood, which would surely set the child up for snide jokes.

It figures you would consider symbolic meaning, edibility, and medicinal uses, not just the sound of the name and appearance of the flower -P

Names are important! -S

I'm not complaining! I just find it amusing. Explains why you took your time responding. You probably have a whole book of notes on all the names you were thinking of, don't you? She wasn't wrong exactly; his notes would indeed fill a book if he had actually committed them to paper. Everyone else just phones me up with whatever random name they thought of that sounded good in their head -P

Severus snorted. If that was all the care most muggles put into the task of naming, no wonder so many muggleborns arrived with common, meaningless names. Wizards put great store in naming. Some believe the act of naming can guide the fate of the child. -S

Really? Please tell me that's just superstition. -P

Unknown. It might be a case of self-fulfilling prophesy. Or it might not. The belief originated in legendary tales of the lost and possibly mythical art of Naming magic. Severus did not believe True Naming existed in this day and age, but on the other hand, Remus Lupin's name was frighteningly apt for a werewolf. He couldn't imagine the parents choosing that fate deliberately. If he had been in Lupin's father's place with a surname like that, he would have stayed away from first names with any association with the wolf, just to be safe. But perhaps the family was populated by fools who knew no history, or fools who preferred to snub what they saw as superstition. Regardless, there are enough examples of apropos naming in the wizarding world, I would not suggest a poisonous flower to you, or a name with other unfavorable associations. Not worth tempting fate -S

Give me an example of these self-fulfilling prophetic names. I'm curious. -P

There are six on the Hogwarts staff. Sybil Trelawney is the Divinations professor, named for the Ancient Greek prophetess. Hers I'm sure was chosen because the Sight is known to run in her family; her mother was probably trying to kindle the ability. Pomona Sprout teaches Herbology; her case being both the family and given name (Pomona was a Roman goddess of fruit), it might be that the name labeled the family talent rather than the other way around, but still. Then there's Argus Filch, the caretaker. He is a squib, but his ability to espy mischief in the corridors matches his namesake Argus Panoptes, the hundred-eyed giant of Greek myth. Silvanus Kettleburn, named for the Roman god of the woods who is often conflated with Pan (the Greek God of the Wild), teaches Care of Magical Creatures. Bathsheda Babbling teaches Ancient Runes, several languages thereof. And new this year we have added Aurora Sinistra to the staff - not only is her specialty astronomy, but she is also left-handed. -S

How many people are on staff there? -P

Seventeen, including myself -S And his own name meant "stern," so really, there were seven on staff.

You're right. That's too many to be a coincidence. Either you wizards are too good at naming for your own good, or there's something to that superstition of yours... I do like 'Dahlia.' It has a nice sound to it, Dahlia Dursley. -P

I hoped you would -S

And you're right about Daisy being too common. Dorothy (my mother-in-law) suggested it as well, but it sounds like an old woman's name. Or a pet's name even! I'll add both Dahlia and Violet to the options list. And keep sending me suggestions! I'll probably run our favorites by you at some point, to make sure we don't accidentally name her something suggestive of something appalling. -P

I shall help however I can -S

Notes:

Again, no offense to anyone whose names Severus and/or Petunia for whatever reason don't like. It is funny to think of all the too-accurate names in Harry Potter as being prospective instead of clever character illustrations on the part of the author. It makes wizarding parents uncannily good at subconsciously predicting their offspring's jobs, talents, curses, and animagus forms. Maybe pregnancy hormones bring out witches' prophetic tendencies or something lol.

Chapter 41: The Dueling Club

Without any help from Severus, Gwenog had persuaded Minerva that the new Dueling Club, sure to grow quickly and thus needing plenty of space, deserved the use of the Great Hall. Severus arrived several minutes early to find the four house tables had gone, replaced by several large, round carpets that would serve both to define the dueling arenas and pad the stone floor. He nodded to Poppy who quietly occupied a corner just in case the whole thing went disastrously awry. Not that Severus planned on letting any students injure themselves anytime soon. He needed to know they could behave before they earned that privilege.

There were more students present than he had expected. Virtually all the Slytherins, and perhaps half the Gryffindors, including ones who hated him. He thought every single seventh year who hadn't been disciplined in the last month for cursing other students was here, probably for curiosity or nostalgia, wondering if he would live up to their memories when they were eleven of his battling the Marauders in the halls. At exactly three o'clock, Severus walked over to Gwenog. "Settle down." The murmur of voices faded rapidly. "Welcome to the inaugural meeting of the Hogwarts Dueling Club. The first rule of this club is that membership is a privilege that can be revoked at any time. You are not here to settle grudges, let off steam, or hurt each other. You are here to learn. Anyone caught dueling outside of the club will be suspended for a minimum of one month. Anyone intentionally causing disruption or violating safety instructions during club meetings will also face suspension for the first offense and permanent expulsion for repeated offenses. You may all thank Ms. Jones for organizing this. And you may all look to Ms. Jones and the other prefect teaching assistants as having special authority in this room. If I or one of my assistants tells you to stop what you are doing, then you stop. If one of us tells you to watch or to listen, then you do so without complaint."

"Suck up to the Slytherins, or else," a Gryffindor sixth year boy said in a stage whisper.

"Thank you, Professor Snape," Gwenog said sweetly, completely ignoring the interruption. "Thank you so much for agreeing to sponsor the club. As the Professor mentioned, I'll be one of his assistants. Gardner Tickes, Paula Lightfoot, Grace Vance, and Ian Shacklebolt are the other assistants. Wave, guys!" The Gryffindor head boy, sixth year Gryffindor and seventh year Hufflepuff female prefects, and the Ravenclaw sixth year male prefect all raised hands in acknowledgement

"Why is Snape in charge when we could have been learning from a real dueling champion?" the same Gryffindor sixth year asked, stubbornly digging in his heels at Gwenog's unsubtle rebuke. "I don't want to practice Dark Arts for the amusement of the dungeon bat. It should have been Flitwick."

Several Slytherins stiffened in offense. Severus just rolled his eyes. "Do you think the Dark Arts is all I am qualified to teach you, Mr. Hess?"

"I don't think you know how to duel honorably, without your crutch. I heard about the curses you used to invent as a student, Professor, and I bet they've only gotten Darker."

Severus grinned widely but did not take so much as a single point from the idiotic brat. "Ms. Selwyn, Jones, and Rath, Mr. Orwell, Burke, and Rosier," all the Slytherin prefects, "please join me in the largest circle."

Gwenog barely hesitated before following him over. Severus positioned himself in the center of the ring, his prefects arrayed in a semicircle with their backs towards the massed students. "When I tell you, I would like all six of you to attack me. You may use any charm, jinx, or hex that you wish in order to take me down. Nonlethal curses are also permitted; Dark curses are not. I will defend with only first- and second-year spells, and I will be fighting to disarm. I will win." The two seventh years scowled slightly at his confidence. "The rest of you will want to come a bit closer. I will erect a shield to keep you safe. Protego Verso!"

A huge, shimmering shield bloated outward from his wand, encompassing the whole circle. It faded to transparency when it stabilized at its new perimeter. Severus aimed a stinging hex at the apex. The shield flashed where it hit, the radiance visible perhaps a half-meter around the collision point. Good enough to maintain visibility for the audience. Students shuffled closer, hugging the edge of the shielded space. Most were looking excited now, and some were clearly taking bets. Severus pretended not to notice. This club would require a little showmanship to be successful, not just iron authority.

He turned back to his prefects. Only Gwenog looked enthusiastic. Felix looked nervous, and the seventh years had now schooled their features again to look bored. He smiled at them. "It is customary to bow to one's opponent at the beginning of a duel. We will not go over all the procedural formalities of competitive dueling until our second or third meeting I think, but that courtesy at least should be observed. He swept his own bow, flicking his robes backwards artfully before standing full upright again and raising his wand. The six students bowed a moment later; all showed perfect pureblood form, even halfblood Gwenog. She had probably studied up in preparation for the club. "You may begin."

Severus used no magic at all for the first sixty seconds. He merely dodged the uncoordinated barrage of spells, ducking under one, jumping over the next. He was out of practice and probably should have stretched first, not to mention changed into something other than his academic robes, but it still wasn't that hard. He rolled behind Peredur Burke, and George Orwell stunned the sixth year prefect instants later. "Whoops," Severus drawled. "You'd do well to avoid friendly fire, children." He casually disarmed Erika and Felix while he was speaking and placed them in full body binds. He then rapidly cast a dozen stinging hexes in a row at Gwenog. She dodged the first two, yelped when the third struck her arm, and finally erected a shield spell to hide behind. He dodged two technically disallowed blasting curses, one from each seventh year, and rolled between them to avoid George's finger-removing jinx. He threw a smokescreen not around himself but instead directly around them as he rolled. Both disappeared in the dense smoke, with Gwenog out of sight on the other side of the screen. He fired off several engorgement charms while he waited, aiming at the carpet itself. Bits of the rug swelled up unevenly, with large, stiff chunks of it rumpling and folding over themselves. The uneven surface would slow the students down should one try to circle behind him.

Then, when Augusta stepped out of the smoke cloud, coughing and sneezing, he levitated her six feet in the air, only to drop her on George when he emerged moments later. George dropped his wand, and Severus bound him. Augusta still had hers and managed to regain her feet, even fired another finger-removing jinx that went wide. He cast a Knockback jinx at her. Still squinting against the smoke, she cast a shield rather than try to dodge. She hadn't moved far enough from George, though. Her shield held, but she took one step back to regain her balance and promptly fell over her classmate. Severus disarmed and bound her as well, before turning his full attention back to Gwenog.

Gwenog had quietly dropped her shield and moved left around the smoke and also further back, probably to give herself more time to dodge. That tactic worked both ways, however. Severus easily stepped out of the way of her sponge-knee curse. He advanced leisurely, dodging each of Gwenog's various curses. She did know a lot of them, he had to give her that. He started casting silent severing charms as he walked, hiding the simple wand movement in the shadow of his robe, not raising his arm enough for her to tell where he was aiming. He put very little power into them, and so the tracks of the spells were nigh-invisible. Gwenog did not see what he was doing until her trailing left sleeve started to fall away in one-inch rings. Her eyes widened when she noticed, by which point he had shortened her sleeve ten times, all the way up to her elbow. "Holy mother of... Protego!"

"Wingardium Leviosa." The rug beneath her feet lifted up several feet and tipped her forwards. Not for nothing was she a quidditch captain, and she managed to keep her feet and jump back to flatter ground. Severus cast a softening charm right at the patch of rug where she landed, however. It was a part that Severus had already thickened and rumpled earlier, and Gwenog sank into the fibers up to her knees with the force of her landing. He switched back to stinging hexes. Unable now to dodge with her feet so tangled, she was forced to shield. Severus walked right up to the edge of her shield. "Incendio." It was a harmless little fire he conjured, barely enough to light a taper, but touching it to her shield caused a continuous luminescence as the spells reacted to each other. The effect was as if he were casting ten minor spells at her every second, and the opaque reaction soon spread to encompass her whole shield. It was inevitable that her shield would collapse eventually.

Gwenog must have realized it, because she suddenly kicked at him blindly. Her foot met his knee, but he had kept most of his weight on the back leg for that very reason. "Oh, very good, Ms. Jones. Two points to Slytherin for that." She growled at him. The moment her shield failed, they both shouted, "Expelliarmus!" Severus was faster, though, and Gwenog's wand slipped from her hand even as her lips formed the last syllable of the incantation. He grinned at her affronted expression. "I said I would win." He swept his wand in a wide circle, dismissing his own spells on the other five prefects, as well as the shield encompassing the ring. All the students were silent as he passed his prefects' wands back to them.

He regarded them for a moment, then said, "Why did you lose, when all of you had access to more and objectively better dueling spells than I?"

"You're wicked fast, sir," Gwenog said immediately.

He inclined his head to her.

"And you use the first- and second-year repertoire really creatively," George said. He seemed honestly impressed for a change.

"You're better at dividing your attention between your current opponent, the others on the field, and the environment," Augusta said, a little sourly.

"The wisdom of experience," Severus drawled. "Shields have their uses, but they allow you to be pinned down while hampering your ability to cast offensive spells. I can both hold a shield and cast jinxes and hexes at the same time, but that is a difficult skill that takes most wizards years of practice. Since you cannot as of yet, your shield became a trap. While physically taxing, dodging unfriendly spells is often a better strategy, particularly if you are in the sort of fight that could involve spells that will go right through a standard shield charm. It is not extensive knowledge of curses that will win most duels but rather outstanding technique and application of your spells, and, as Ms. Selwyn observed, an awareness of your surroundings. I cannot tell you how many wizards and witches have lost life and limb due to tripping at the worst possible moment." A few watching students sniggered at that.

"Questions?"

There were none, but first Chiara Lobosca and then the Slytherin first years started cheering for him. This extended to light applause from the rest of the Slytherins, the teaching assistants, the head girl, and Melody Perkins of Hufflepuff. Severus gestured sharply for silence again.

"Yes, thank you. There being no questions, we will now split into groups. Mr. Tickes, please take charge of the fourth- through seventh-years in practicing speed and accuracy of the disarming charm. Sixth- and Seventh-years should practice casting nonverbally. Ms. Jones, you will assist me in teaching the first- through third-years how to most efficiently dodge an attack. We switch in fifteen minutes, and if we have time at the end of the hour, we might have another demonstration duel."

Notes:

I enjoyed writing a BAMF Severus at the dueling club. It's like in a martial arts movie when the master challenges the arrogant young apprentice to a sword duel, but he's using a stick. I also find it amusing to reuse chapter titles from the original books.

Chapter 42: Just Say Know

"Who can tell me the difference between a poison, a venom, a toxin, and an intoxicant?"

For awhile, the combined seventh year N.E.W.T. class was silent. Dirk Prentiss sank low in his seat in the back. Finally, Augusta sighed and raised her hand. "A toxin is a subset of poison that is produced in vivo by a living organism, whether animal, plant, fungus, or bacterium. Venom is a subset of toxin produced by an animal, or magical plant, that it delivers via bite or sting either to disable and kill its prey or to defend against predators, sir."

"Correct. Three points to Slytherin. And an intoxicant?"

"I... don't know precisely. I don't think it's in the same vein, though. Alcohol is an intoxicant, but we wouldn't consider it a poison."

"Some would," Severus said with a grin. "Anyone else?"

"Muggles call anything that makes you high an intoxicant," Gryffindor muggleborn Valerie Smith said. Severus was momentarily stunned. He did not think she had voluntarily answered a question in his class before.

"Who cares what muggles think?" Vivian said scathingly. "We're at a school for witchcraft and wizardry, if you hadn't noticed, mudblood."

"You should care, Ms. Van Damme, when the muggle thinking is in fact quite close to the mark. One point to Gryffindor, Ms. Smith. An intoxicant is any substance that induces confusion, somnolence, or elation, or that is intended to stupefy the central nervous system, or to change the human auditory, visual, or mental processes. Hence, alcohol is an intoxicant. Many poisons at survivable doses are also intoxicants. What else that we would not normally call poisonous would be considered intoxicants?"

"...Confusing Concoction and Calming Draught?"

"Yes, one point to Slytherin."

"Draught of Peace?"

"Essence of Euphoria, Essence of Insanity."

"Love potions!"

"And all the sleeping potions..."

"Invigoration Draught, Wideye potion."

"Alilhotsy potion? Babbling Beverage?"

Severus waved a hand to stop them. "You've got the idea. Add to your list brews like Felix Felicis and Veritaserum, which both alter judgment and sensorium in addition to their intended effects, and your list of intoxicating potions will soon be complete. What else, besides potions?"

This was a bit more of a stumper. Severus locked eyes with Dirk, who blushed but finally, when Severus refused to look away, mumbled, "Billiwig stings."

"Quite. One point to Slytherin. The intoxicating properties might already be present in your ingredients, not an emergent property of the final brew. These would also be considered toxins, even if they are not lethal. Thus, not every toxin is colloquially 'poisonous.' Ms. Smith, can you think of an intoxicating substance that is not a wizarding potion or a natural toxin?"

"Professor Snape! My dad's a green grocer, not a- a-"

"Not a criminal or policeman, so you would have little reason to know the origins of various illicit substances. Yes, I quite understand, Ms. Smith, but most of your classmates would have even less reason to know. Can you guess?"

"Ah... okay. Well, not heroin because opium comes from poppies. And cocaine comes from some South American plant. Both of those were in Sherlock Holmes! That's where I learned it, honest! Um... Maybe LSD? My dad said the Beatles used that one."

"Comes from the ergot mold."

"Oh. How about, um, meth? The Nazis used that one."

"And we have a winner. Another point to Gryffindor for your suspiciously good memory for historical drug-related trivia." She blushed scarlet and looked down at her desk. He could never predict the Gryffindors' reactions on the rare occasions he gave them any points. "Moving on, why does the distinction between poison and intoxicant matter?"

"Because most of them don't have antidotes, only the ones that are considered poisons. And love potions," Dirk whispered. Severus was amazed. He must have read up on the subject after arguing about it during his detentions, only to find Severus proven right. That was constructive behavior deserving of reward. "Correct. Five points to Slytherin. Thus, today we will be discussing the recognition and management of intoxication. Management, not reversal. Since almost no fully neutralizing reversal agents have been developed for non-lethal intoxicants, their effects must either be allowed to wane with time or temporarily countered with another intoxicant with opposing effects, while one waits for the blood levels of the original intoxicant to wane with time. That is actually the mechanism of the general love potion antidote, if you will recall from last term, which is why it tends to cause transient melancholia that must be monitored for several days. There are a few ways of accelerating the process, but these only work for specific substances. Interestingly, muggle means, as with a machine called a-" he glanced down at his notes "- dialysis can be extremely effective, although these would be difficult for an intoxicated witch or wizard to access, and have not of course been tested on most magical substances." There was one bizarre case report Severus had found of an American witch suffering from insomnia who overdosed on both muggle barbiturates and Draught of the Living Death. Her squib sister had taken her to a muggle hospital and told them about the barbiturates, and the witch had woken up in panic, still connected to multiple muggle machines, long before the magical Draught would have been expected to wear off in the normal course of events.

"First off, recognition..."

It was an enlightening lesson for all concerned. Certain students proved uncannily adept at matching toxidromes to likely intoxicant and suggesting appropriate counters. Others, including Dirk but also two Gryffindors, spent the lesson intermittently flushing and inspecting their finger nails. He made note to mention the Gryffindors to Minerva. Halfway through the discussion regarding muggle intoxicants, one Ravenclaw girl burst out in frustration, "Professor Snape, I don't understand why muggles make and use these things! Or why anyone brews the Essence of Insanity if they risk permanent brain injury! I thought that was an accidental discovery with the recipe written down to avoid..."

"Your question is what is the purpose of intoxication?"

"I... I guess?"

The rest of the class wore varying looks of guilt, disdain, amusement, and grudging interest. He made mental note of all the guilty faces. He hadn't expected quite so many of them. He would have to choose his next words very carefully. "Well, I suppose the proper thing for a teacher to say to impressionable students would be that intoxication serves no purpose. That it is a frivolous waste. A mistake. Immoral." He paused. "I would be lying, of course. I could also say that intoxication is primarily an unfortunate side effect of necessary potions. That is also obviously incorrect. Most people you talk to who have partaken in any kind of intoxicant will first tell you it is for pleasure. Alcohol is a good example, and the most common. Indeed, many if not all of you I am sure have experienced the pleasurable 'buzz' of alcohol amongst friends. Some of you have even experienced alcohol's more severe effects and, happily, lived to tell about it. And yet, I am sure you all must also know that excessive alcohol is the most likely intoxicant to break a family, destroy a marriage, or end a life, whether the drinker's or his victim's.

"So, why would someone drink to excess? It could be a mistake, particularly in someone young and inexperienced in such things, egged on by drunken peers. Group stupidity is probably the most common danger, in fact. But, it could also be that they desire the oblivion that intoxication offers, because of physical or emotional pain, because of problems in their life that seem hopeless to the sober mind. Or it could be, in the case of alcohol and many other substances, that the nervous system has become habituated, addicted, and completely beholden to the intoxicant. Plenty of people start taking Calming Draught or common pain tonics for a genuine need and find themselves addicted after overuse. They add alcohol and sleeping potions to the mix, either because they do not know better or because they are desperate. As we already discussed, use of intoxicants can have long term effects on the function of the nervous system that make it nigh impossible for one to make rational decisions about them. In conclusion, the reasons behind intoxication are many. The number of intoxicating substances available are equally many. Thus, you need to know the risks."

The bell rang. Odd, the class had gone quite quickly with a surprising amount of engagement for a purely lecture-based lesson. They hadn't even gotten to the management of mundane intoxicants. "Homework: pick two potions, two magical toxins, and one muggle drug. Describe their intoxicating effects and the best way to manage them, and list two other potions or substances that should be avoided until the intoxicant has worn off." Most of the correct management answers would just be to wait it out. He made it easy, because he wasn't particularly interested in grading it. "We will not be returning to this topic next lesson since we need to keep on schedule for your N.E.W.T.s, so you may also include up to two questions for me at the bottom of your assignment, and I will either answer them or direct you to the appropriate library resources."

Severus was not wholly surprised when Dirk held back. "Did you need something, Mr. Prentiss?" Severus asked when the rest of the students were gone.

"Not really... just, have you ever... tried these things, Professor?"

"Well, as some of them were quite common and innocuous in usual doses, it's safe to assume most adults have. But if you are asking if I have ever drunk myself into a stupor, Mr. Prentiss, the answer is... yes." He looked Dirk in the eye and allowed some of the pain of Lily's death and later his mother's diagnosis to show on his face. "It didn't help beyond one night. It didn't help because the problems are still there in the morning, compounded by the hangover. But accepting the support of other people who know and understand the situation, even if they have no personal experience with it, that does help." Certainly, Severus would be a shadow of himself if he did not have Petunia to talk to and Minerva keeping an eye on him, even Albus and Aberforth with the Eileen affair.

An odd expression crossed the teenaged wizard's face, a war between his accustomed hatred of Severus and a desire to speak his mind to the only person who knew his secrets. Eventually, he nodded and left without another word.

Just in time, too. Severus needed a few minutes to compose himself before the second round of fourth years descended on him with their juvenile grins, poorly concealed snickering, and impertinent, inappropriate questions about sex and sexual health. He knew he'd be wearing his Death Eater face by the end of the lesson, but he couldn't start it out that way or they'd learn nothing at all.

---

That evening, exhausted and regretting ever agreeing to become a teacher, Severus wrote to Petunia, How do muggles deal with teaching teenagers about venereal diseases and avoiding teenaged pregnancy? There has got to be a better way. Every year it's the same: most of the fourth years have never even heard of herpes, gonorrhea, syphilis, or Ague Sirensia until I have the misfortune of teaching about their treatment! -S

I can't wait to hear about your trials and travails. In answer to your question though, I'm not entirely sure because it's changed. There was no formal sex education when I was in school in Cokeworth, but the government mandated it  nationwide  a year or two after I graduated. I think Sex and Relationship Education classes start at age eleven now; Rachel mentioned it once when we were trying to decide if that was the best timing after her daughter told her about her first class. I've no idea what the curriculum is. Do you want me to find you some books? -P

Severus rested his forehead on his desk for a moment. Of all the subjects he did not want to read, "Sex and Relationship Education" might be near the top of the list. He sighed and picked up the quill again. Yes, please -S He would just dump them anonymously in Minerva's office and let her figure out what to do with them.

Notes:

Severus isn't really the preachy "just say no" type. He'd rather drown students in cold, hard facts. Incidentally, if you haven't read the excellent Hermione-centric fanfiction New Blood by artemisgirl, check it out. Or at least read chapters 260 and 261 "The Girls' Talk" and "The Boys' Talk," in which Professors McGonagall and Snape give sex ed lectures to the third years. Hermione sneaks into the boys' section just to see Snape's expressions. It's hilarious

Chapter 43: The Feast of St Valentine

Petunia set to her enormous plate of Mu Shu pork with gusto. She rarely ate ethnic cuisine, because she didn't know how to cook it, but she had been craving the taste of plum sauce for the past week. Ah, pregnancy. Vernon had accordingly booked a reservation at a mid- to upscale Chinese restaurant for Valentines' Day. Arabella, bless her heart, was keeping the boys company for as long as they needed this evening.

"How is it, dear?" Vernon asked.

"Everything I wanted," Petunia answered, dabbing her lips with a napkin.

"Good."

"How are your dumplings?" Poor Vernon of course did not tolerate spice very well as it gave him heartburn, and had asked their waiter what the mildest menu item was. As he was also unfamiliar with bamboo shoots, water chestnuts, and bok choy, which were in almost everything, he had ended up ordering two of the dumpling appetizer plates rather than a regular meal out of an abundance of caution.

"Very good, actually. As you know, I don't usually go for foreign food, but these are quite tasty. I'd be willing to come here again."

"They sell those dumplings in the frozen section at Tesco's sometimes, too," Petunia informed him. "Would you like to try any of mine?"

"Not today, Pet." He eyed her plate of meat and shredded vegetables, and the dish of dark brown plum sauce, with clear wariness.

Petunia chuckled and reached for her water glass. "I'm still amazed you made it to age thirty without ever trying Chinese food. Even I managed to sample it growing up in Cokeworth!"

"Can you picture my dad at this place?" Vernon countered.

To the world, she and Vernon appeared the prototype of the British suburban middle class. Of course, they were exactly that most of the time, if one ignored the existence of magic. But compared to Vernon's father, they were extremely worldly and profoundly open-minded. Petunia looked around, taking in the pretty red, tasseled lamps, the golden dragons on the walls, the wait staff all communicating with each other in rapid Chinese, and the exotic strains wafting through the sound system of some kind of Asian stringed instrument mingled with a voice crooning odd-sounding words she could not understand. She grinned and shook her head. "No, I cannot see Herbert Dursley eating in a place like this. He'd be telling them to switch to BBC Radio 4, complaining about the funny words on the menu, asking what the hell the wooden sticks were for and demanding they give him real silverware." She brandished her chopsticks at him. Neither she nor Vernon were very good at using them, but Petunia had stubbornly refused to give up. She was rolling up most of her food to eat by hand anyways. Vernon possibly had not realized he had the option of asking for a fork. Their waiter had noticed their trouble and tactfully brought them two full sets of silverware when he came to refill their drinks.

"Exactly."

"You've still had eleven years since moving out that you could have tried it."

"Ah, but I was dating, engaged or married to you for seven of those years and never once desired to stray from your cooking, dear Pet. So it was only four years that I might have branched out and tried new things without my parents' influence. And do you remember where I was living when we met?"

Petunia smiled at the memory of their second date. "In an apartment over a chip shop."

"A very good chip shop at that. I rest my case."

"Alright, you win. It was a pretty good chip shop. I wonder if it's still open?"

"It was last time I visited Uncle Ed."

"We should go back sometime."

"It's a bit out of the way, don't you think?"

"Well, next time you're headed that direction for work, maybe you can pick something up for me."

"The chips will be cold and soggy by the time I get them back to you, though."

"Honestly, I was craving soggy chips and ice cream the other day, so I'd take it."

Vernon laughed. "Our little girl's got odd taste, doesn't she?"

"Certainly odder than Dudley's," Petunia agreed. She ran a hand across her belly as she so often did, feeling the growing curve. It was no doubt a coincidence, but for the first time since the positive pregnancy test, she felt a little flutter inside as her baby moved. It was not enough to feel with her hand, but more than enough to feel with her quickening heart. "Vernon! I just felt her! It's her first kick!"

"Really?" Vernon beamed at her. He got up and walked around the table to rest a hand over hers.

"She's settled down again, but I know it was her!"

He hugged her a moment before resuming his seat. "I'd say that's the best Valentine's gift we're ever going to get."

"I'll say!"

"Let me buy you some cake in celebration, or whatever this place sells for dessert."

"Probably a custard or a tart, not cake, but that's fine by me."

"Whatever you like."

---

Severus slouched in his chair in the staff room, legs stretched out beneath the table, glaring at the several wilting red flower bouquets and heart-shaped doilies lingering in the room. It was over a week since Valentine's Day. Why were they still here? And who had put them out in the first place? Surely not the house elves, or they would have gotten rid of the flowers as soon as they were past their prime. No one had bothered to decorate the staff room or any other part of the castle for Valentine's Day last year, which suggested either Professor Sinistra or Slinkhard was behind it. He got along well with Aurora and did not want to think she'd do something so tasteless. She was young and pretty, though, if not quite so young as Severus himself, so perhaps she had received the flowers from someone she had no interest in and decided to discreetly discard them. He smirked. Or not so discreetly, if Slinkhard had sent them. He wouldn't put it past Slinkhard to provide the ridiculous doilies. Seven months in, Severus strongly suspected Slinkhard had never been in a romantic relationship, and not for lack of trying. The man had peculiar notions on the virtues and natures of peace and love that made Albus' occasional speeches on the subject seem entirely reasonable.

"There's Albus. Let's call the meeting to order," Minerva said briskly the moment the headmaster breezed into the staff room to join the four heads of houses for their monthly meeting. She flicked her wand to direct several piles of parchment around the table.

"All work, no play, Minerva?" Albus asked as he nimbly caught his own stack. It was thinner than everyone else's, Severus noted with displeasure as he straightened up in his chair.

"You know full well the February meeting has a busy agenda and always does." She pulled out an undyed Quick Quotes quill and set it to a blank piece of parchment. "Meeting notes with no flourishes," she ordered it. "First item as always, did everyone review the minutes from our last meeting?"

"Yes, I thought they made unusually good bedtime reading this time," Albus said brightly. "There was a distinct poetic cadence to them that we don't usually end up with. I highly approved."

Severus rolled his eyes and chorused "yes" with everyone else.

"Motion to approve minutes?"

"Seconded," Filius said quickly.

"All in favor?"

There were five assents.

"Motion carries."

"Motion that we all attempt to speak in iambic pentameter for the rest of the meeting?" Albus said hopefully.

Minerva and everyone else ignored him. "Moving on, we've had fewer than usual splinchings or successful apparitions in the first six weeks of the apparition course..." Probably because the instructor, one Wilkie Twycross from the Department of Magical Transportation, was new and bad at explaining the concepts involved. Severus was bored even without trying to pay attention. He fully expected pass rates to decline, but it wasn't his problem to fix but rather the Ministry's, so he didn't much care.

"...We have twelve students taking remedial lessons in various subjects at present, down from fourteen. Progress reports for each are before you..." While glancing through the progress reports, Severus listened with half an ear as Minerva outlined the changes to the remediation plans. He took some pride that only two Slytherins were on the remedial list. There had been five with D and T averages in October. Felix had either tutored or gotten them all into better study groups starting in November without Severus' intervention, probably at Erica's behest, or that of one of the other more ambitious prefects. It was clearly working. Then his eyes widened as he looked through the list. None of the failing students in any house had T-averages in potions this month! Thinking back, he should have realized that before, of course. He'd only given two T's on the examinations in December, and two on homework in January. Well, this was a first. Either he was getting soft, or the students were actually improving. He should probably check some of his older files to make sure his standards hadn't slipped.

"...Detentions and hospitalization rates remain at average. We have survived Valentine's Day with the usual number of love potion incidents and, I am happy to report, preserved our record for timely intervention and thus no sexual assaults for the past six years."

"Three cheers for Mrs. Norris sniffing out the love potions!" Filius said happily.

"She really is a very good kitty, isn't she?" Albus said. Minerva scowled. Severus smirked. She had spent many hours over several summers helping Argus train Mrs. Norris using her feline animagus form, an arduous task no matter how well it had paid off. Unfortunately, Mrs. Norris had taken to the principle that all the students' pets were supposed to be with their owner, in their dormitories, or in the owlery at all times a little too well and now got very territorial with Minerva. Or Mrs. Norris could simply resent Minerva's strict teaching methods and deliberately goaded her, he supposed. He wasn't sure how much the cat could think such things through. All the students hated Mrs. Norris. All the staff except Minerva were rather fond of her for making their lives easier, even though she refused to let anyone but Argus pet her. Albus smiled, eyes twinkling with mischief. "I move that we reward Mrs. Norris with, say, some nice fish. I have contacts at the Mahoutokoro School of Magic who could probably send us sushi-grade salmon or tuna."

"Sushi-grade salmon?!" Minerva half-shouted, shooting the headmaster a withering look.

"The Board of Governors can't fail to approve that expense," Severus said snidely. Pomona covered her mouth but failed to hide her quaking shoulders.

"Really, Albus, plimpies from the Black Lake or good Scottish haddock should be perfectly adequate," Filius said quickly. "Argus always says Mrs. Norris prefers white fish anyhow. I move we give Argus a morning off and an extra couple galleons to take Mrs. Norris to a fish market."

"Seconded," Pomona coughed.

Minerva's lips thinned a little, but she said tonelessly, "All in favor?"

There were four "aye's." Minerva said, "Abstain."

"We're allowed to abstain from meaningless votes?" Severus blurted. Merlin, so many of Albus' trivial motions he could have voiced his disdain for this year...

"Don't abuse it," Pomona said in a stage whisper.

"Moving on, I do have special notes on several students we need to discuss. Due to the issue with Mr. Prentiss last month, Professor Snape elected to provide additional education to his seventh year class on the nature and risks of intoxicating substances and as a result identified two of my Gryffindors acting suspiciously. Both Mr. Doge and Mr. Adkins later admitted to me a pattern of nightly drinking and weekend binge drinking with another student that was highly concerning. As you all know, I sent all three to the hospital wing last week, where Poppy admitted them for detoxification. Mr. Adkins later owned up to additional use of a muggle substance called Mandrax, which is a kind of soporific." Severus leaned forwards. The main ingredient in Mandrax, methaqualone, he had also identified in the cocktail back in November. Perhaps this was a wider issue than he had thought. "Between Argus, Mrs. Norris, and I, we tracked that drug back to the Hufflepuff dormitories as of last night. Pomona, have you made any progress there?"

Pomona sighed. "Yes. I found the stash inside a hollow in the wall of the girls' lavatory while all the students were at breakfast. I'm almost certain Jane Court's banned item smuggling ring is behind it, even though Mrs. Norris didn't point me towards anything in the dorms themselves. I'll be talking to Jane later today."

"If you tip her off, she'll likely hide or destroy any evidence," Severus pointed out.

"What else can I do? It's a muggle substance, so I can't just do a tracking spell. She or one of her, ah..."

"Minions."

"I suppose that's accurate. A Hufflepuff with minions; Helga must be turning in her grave. Anyway, there wasn't time for Jane to acquire it at the Valentines' Hogsmeade weekend with Mr. Adkins admitting to using it before then, so she or one of her minions must have brought it back from home over the Christmas holidays."

"Well, you're only looking at muggleborns or halfbloods, then," Severus said practically. "According to my research after the Prentiss incident, while Mandrax is favored amongst muggles, it is rarely seen in wizarding circles, even in Knockturn Alley. Purebloods dealing Mandrax would be spreading a lot of other things around first that we would certainly have heard about, and pureblood teenagers deep enough into drug culture to be irresponsibly dealing Mandrax would doubtless also be frequently and obviously intoxicated themselves. The culprit must have gotten it in a muggle neighborhood, one they're very, very familiar with. If you can give me a sample, I should be able to make an aerosolized potion you can spray on the belongings of all your upper year students with one or two muggle parents to figure out who was carrying it. Or using it. Even if Ms. Court never touched the stuff herself, and I'm guessing she isn't so foolish, then one of her couriers or customers may be willing to implicate her if you threaten them with enough sufficiently unpleasant detentions."

Pomona stared at him a moment then shook her head slowly. "I don't know how you deal with Slytherins all the time, Severus. I've never had a problem like this before. I didn't even have my eye on Jane until you and Petrus pointed her out to me!"

"I remember."

"Thank you for the suggestion, Severus," Minerva said. "We will absolutely proceed. It may behoove us to check the upper year dorms in all four houses. I can tolerate student trade in frivolous banned items like Fanged Frisbees, dung bombs, and butterbeer, but potentially dangerous substances like this are unacceptable. Do you have time to brew the potion before Pomona's meeting with Ms. Court?"

"I can take care of it during classes this afternoon. If any of the students manage to guess what I'm doing, I'll give them bonus points and let you know who else might be too-aware of drug dealing at Hogwarts."

The four non-Slytherins shook their heads again.

"Once the Mandrax issue is sorted out, I move we ask Argus to crack down on alcohol smuggling more than usual over the next few weeks," Filius suggested. "Overlook butterbeer to upper year students only, wine to coming-of-age birthday parties only and no more than one bottle, and absolutely no firewhiskey."

"Seconded," Severus said. "It might help Ms. Court to decide intoxicants might not be so lucrative as they first appear."

"We should keep cannabis strictly to the upper years too, then, to get the message through," Pomona added. "It's more popular than alcohol in some circles because it's easier to hide."

"Seconded," Filius said.

"All in favor?" The motions carried unanimously. "That's that. We can talk about next month, then. Firstly, we are all set for Ms. Jones to lead our first ever Hogwarts Electives Q&A session for the second years. Both Albus and I signed off on the proposal, which you all may read in your own time, and we will be reviewing the results of the session at next month's meeting to see how it affects class selections."

"Was this your idea, Severus?" Pomona asked, skimming the document. "It's a good one."

"No, it was Ms. Jones.'"

"She is an impressive young woman, and a credit to House Slytherin," Albus commented.

"She really is," Pomona agreed. "I'll trade you for Jane. Gwenog seems much more of a Hufflepuff, a real team player."

"On the contrary, Ms. Jones is exemplary of Slytherin's virtues," Severus said drily. "I think you would agree if you got to know her better. Although I will grant you that Ms. Court would have done well in my house, just as Ms. Jones would have dominated yours." A girl of Gwenog's talents and drive surrounded by affable Hufflepuffs rather than recalcitrant Slytherins would have been entertaining.

"Gwenog also talked Severus into starting the new Dueling Club," Filius said enthusiastically. "I saw your duel at the first session, you know, and I must say, excellent job, there. Really took me back to the circuit."

"Yes, it was a near-perfect first lesson, I think," Pomona agreed.

Severus glanced quizzically between the two of them. "Neither of you were there."

"No, but Poppy told us about it, and I simply had to see it, so we went to borrow the headmaster's pensieve. Your use of the Engorgement and Softening charms was truly inspired, Severus! Students always forget about area charms when they first start dueling."

"Even Professor Slinkhard had little to complain about after he saw it. He called it a 'remarkable demonstration of pacifist defense.' Indeed, his only criticism was that you gave Ms. Jones points for kicking you," Albus supplied loftily. His eyes were twinkling again. The old codger knew how much Severus disliked Slinkhard's babbling about his nonviolent activism and misguided, overly technical philosophies.

"I laughed at that part," Filius said.

"Have all the staff watched it?" Severus asked, a little miffed to be put on display without knowing about it.

Albus steepled his fingers, probably faking deep thought. He shook his head. "No, I believe Sibyll has yet to see it, as she has not ventured down from her tower in some weeks."

"Wonderful. Next time, I'll sell tickets. One galleon each."

"On the subject of the Dueling Club, I would like a list of techniques covered so that we can gauge how the club affects O.W.L. and N.E.W.T. scores," Minerva said, artlessly redirecting the conversation back to business. Severus nodded curtly. "The next agenda item is career counseling for the fifth years, since sessions are scheduled to start in March. You all now have the updated brochures and prerequisites lists from the Ministry and other participating organizations. The counseling forms themselves are unchanged from last year. Severus, you and I have a meeting scheduled next week so we can go over any questions you might have after you've had a chance to review the material." Severus nodded again. So did everyone else.

"Albus, anything to discuss from the Board of Governors?"

"The earnings of the Christmas fundraiser have been tabulated, and we met the targets for both the scholarship and equipment funds. No other agenda items for us."

"Perfect. I'll start collecting purchasing requests from all the staff, then, so you and I can review them and come up with a preliminary budget for summer ordering for the governors to gut at their leisure. Does anyone have last-minute topics to discuss?" Everyone shook their heads. Minerva reached down and picked up a small box which she set on the table with a metallic tink. "In that case, the last item on the agenda is to congratulate Severus Snape. You have taken to being Head of House Slytherin admirably well this year with very little preparation. You have met every expectation I have set for you as well as several I did not. I commend you on your performance so far."

Severus' eyes widened involuntarily as she spoke, and he had to force his expression back to cold neutrality. Minerva quirked an eyebrow at him and pushed the box across the table. He recognized it as the same brand of biscuits she always gave him for Christmas and his birthday. Albus and Filius gently applauded, while Pomona jostled his shoulder companionly. Slowly, Severus reached out and picked up the box. Funny, this might be the first non-holiday-related gift he had ever received from anyone other than Lily. He put the box in his pocket. "Thank you," he said.

Minerva smiled slightly. "There being no other business, the meeting is adjourned."

Notes:

Petunia's about 18 weeks along, which is a good time for quickening in a second pregnancy (takes longer to recognize the feeling in the first pregnancy). Meanwhile sometimes, Dumbledore's just gotta Dumbledore. I know Mrs. Norris is supposed to be unanimously disliked by all but Filch, but come on, she's a hyperintelligent cat that helps chase down misbehaving students. The teachers have got to love her for that, no matter how much she hisses at them! Mandrax/Methaqualone is also called Quaalude in the US. I don't think it's a very popular drug of abuse anymore, if it's even on the market, but it was big in the 70's and early 80's, looks like. To be clear, Hogwarts' student official rulebook would say they have a zero-tolerance policy for alcohol, drugs, and intoxicating potions, but that's clearly not well-enforced in canon with the alcohol at Gryffindor parties and the illegal study aides circulating during OWL year. Thus, I figure the staff are much stricter about enforcement when it comes to the younger years and fairly lenient with the of-age seventh years, so long as the students are keeping it "out of sight" for plausible deniability. The upshot of this meeting is tightening a valve, not actually changing school policy. Wilbert Slinkhard is the author of the horrible Defense textbook Umbridge assigned. This version of Slinkhard is basically the "nerdy college freshman" who never matured over the next fifteen years: overly academic, excessively earnest and a little awkward, overly confident in his own impractical opinions, extremely grating on someone of Severus' personality.

Chapter 44: The Ultrasound

"Can I bring the boys back with me for the ultrasound?" Petunia asked. "Only, I just picked them up from school and don't have anyone else to watch them for me today."

"As long as they can be quiet, that's absolutely fine, ma'am."

Petunia turned to Dudley and Harry. "Did you hear that? You can come watch, but be good." Both boys nodded very seriously. Petunia took their hands as she followed the sonologist down the winding hall to a darkened room.

"Do you want a gown to change into, Mrs. Dursley?" The sonologist asked.

"No, thank you. It doesn't matter if a little gel gets on these."

"Go ahead and lie down, then."

Petunia took her place on the narrow, half-reclined bed. "Dudley, Harry, come stand by me, out of her way. And remember to stay quiet, whispers only." They dutifully tiptoed up by her head, leaning slightly on the mattress to get a closer look at the interesting machine.

"It doesn't look like a camera," Harry whispered. "How does it make pictures?"

"Well, it can't work like a regular camera when the baby's still inside, can it?" Petunia said laughingly. "It's called an ultrasound because the machine uses sound instead of light to make the pictures."

"How?" Dudley asked curiously.

"Pictures are made out of light?"

"Not exactly. Regular pictures are made because of the way light affects picture film. You have to keep film away from light until it's properly developed, or else you'll lose the pictures on it. As for ultrasound... well, I'm sure - I'm sorry, what's your name again, miss?"

"Monica," the technician responded while entering Petunia's patient identification into the machine.

"Thank you. Monica could explain it better, but sound waves actually cause little vibrations when they pass through solid material. That's why you can feel a loud car radio or a motorcycle engine in your feet, not just hear it in your ears as it passes."

"I like motorcycles," Harry supplied.

"I know you do, Harry, but they're awfully dangerous and I don't want you going near one. Anyway, the ultrasound machine can detect how those little sound vibrations travel through different kinds of material and makes a picture based on the measurements."

"Wow," Dudley whispered.

"Mrs. Dursley, when is you due date?" Monica asked.

"June sixteenth."

"My birthday's in June!" Dudley announced excitedly.

"Whisper, dear."

"Sorry."

"Thank you. Could you roll up your shirt for me?" They got started with the scan, and the boys settled down, watching with fascination. After a moment of searching during which blurry gray patterns swirled around the screen, the sonologist focused in on a bright white curve that could only be the baby's skull. Petunia smiled widely. Her smile broadened as Monica adjusted the ultrasound probe slightly, bringing a clear profile of the baby's face into view.

"There she is..." Petunia breathed. Monica saved a picture of the profile and sent it to print out below the machine, then continued making her measurements. Petunia felt a kick and had to smile as she watched the little movement on the screen. "She's awake. If you watch closely, you might be able to see her moving," she told the boys softly. They both huddled in further, ogling the screen. Petunia felt another little kick, and Dudley gasped.

"I saw it!" he whispered excitedly.

"Where?" Harry asked, leaning so far forwards he was practically crawling onto the mattress with her. Petunia glanced at him and noticed he was squinting.

She frowned. "Harry, can't you see from there?"

"It's really blurry, not like telly." True, but she recalled Harry also tended to sit closer to the television than Dudley did. She wondered if he was near-sighted. She remembered James Potter had worn glasses when she had met him. She made a mental note to ask the pediatrician about checking his vision.

"He can come a bit closer," Monica said. "There's room for one next to me, so long as he doesn't try to touch anything."

"Can you promise not to touch, Harry?"

"I promise," Harry said instantly and tiptoed around behind her to come up next to Monica's elbow. Helpfully, there was another kick, and both boys gasped in delight this time. "I saw it!" Harry whispered ecstatically.

They continued watching as Monica methodically took pictures from different angles, checking different measurements. She occasionally commented what they were looking at but did not offer any interpretations, explaining that was up to the reading physician. The exception came towards the end. "Looks like you're right, Mrs. Dursley. She's definitely a girl..." Point to Sev. Not that she had doubted him. He wasn't prone to exaggeration when it came to his own abilities, only when it came to his irritation at work. "And we're done. Just let me clean up, and you can be off..."

Petunia could not stop looking at the ultrasound picture the sonologist gave her to take home. Her eyes followed the curve of the little nose and lips, traced the round belly, counted the toes on the one foot that happened to be visible. Harry and Dudley asked to look at the picture multiple times, and she of course let them, carefully supervising to ensure they would not bend the paper in their excitement. She resolved to get a new photo album next time she was at the shops. The boys settled down after their nap and spent the rest of the afternoon playing their latest, funniest and therefore favorite game with the baby doll: Mummy's Hungry. Petunia watched them while she sorted through a box of Dudley's old baby things, deciding which items to wash and move to the nursery for the new baby and which to leave in the attic.

It was Harry's turn to play "Mummy" first. He sprawled dramatically on the floor, hiding the doll under his shirt. "I'm hungry!"

"What do you want?" Dudley asked.

"I don't know!"

"Here, have some salad!" Dudley handed Harry some scraps of green construction paper from their art supplies, and Harry pretended to eat it.

"I'm still hungry!"

Dudley brought him more and more items from around the house and identified them as increasingly ludicrous things that Harry continued to pretend to eat: the decorative basket of silk flowers in the guest room became a whole bag of crisps. A shoebox full of marbles became a tub of ice cream. Another shoebox full of King Arthur-themed figurines became a shepherd's pie big enough for the whole family. A collection of socks stuffed inside one of Dudley's winter hats was a "block man" because neither of them had yet learned to say "blanc mange" correctly. A tall stack of picture books wrapped in one of Petunia's scarves was dubbed a chocolate cake with TEN LAYERS. A stuffed animal owl Sev had given Harry for Christmas became a roast chicken. Petunia burst out laughing as Dudley finally presented Harry with a whole roasted "cow:" three pillows taken from the beds upstairs and tied together with several of Vernon's belts, with a few black socks tucked under the belts to imitate the dark patches on a Holstein's coat, and a black-and-white drawing of the cow's smiling face taped to one end.

The boys grinned up at her. Harry accepted the "cow" from Dudley, opened his mouth wide, and buried his face in the pillows, making a noise like "om nom nom..." For a brief moment, the pillows darkened in places and bulged, until they really did resemble a huge stuffed animal milk cow.

"Wow, you ate the whole cow! Are you still hungry, Mummy?" Dudley shouted.

"I don't see how Mummy possibly swallowed the cow in the first place," Petunia told them. "But you certainly can't feed her anything bigger than a cow, or goodness knows what would happen."

The mystical illusion vanished as Harry collapsed into giggles. "There was an old lady who swallowed a cow..." he sang in between giggles.

"Ooh! I get to be Old Lady Mummy next, and you have to bring me all the things in the song!" Dudley declared.

"Okay. I'll get you a real spider from the cupboard under the stairs."

"You're gross."

"You're grosser if you eat it."

"There will be no eating of spiders," Petunia said firmly. If there were spiders in that cupboard again, she really needed to clean out and dust the place. She hadn't bothered with it in over a month, too busy rearranging the upstairs, now that Vernon had put together the boys' new bunk beds. Both the nursery and the boys' room were rather cramped at the moment, because Petunia had judged the top bunk to be too high to let either of the boys climb into and sleep in unsupervised at the moment. Thus, while Dudley now slept in the bottom bunk, Harry was still in his old bed in the nursery, while half his things had moved to the other room. She had the two of them practice climbing up and down the ladder every day, and Vernon was going to install a safety rail this weekend. She still wasn't going to give the green light to use the upper bunk until Sev had a chance to come by and place the bed alarm and cushioning charms he'd mentioned when she'd listed off her concerns to him upon first seeing the intimidating beds.

Unfortunately, Harry did find a live spider for Dudley to pretend to eat. Petunia snatched it from him and released it into the garden before setting off to clear out the webs from that cupboard. While she was cleaning, she rediscovered the blanket Harry had been wrapped in when he was first set on their doorstep, tucked into the back corner of the shelf. She smiled wistfully at the baby blanket, wondering whether Lily had purchased it, or whether it was a gift from their mother or one of the Potters, or from a friend. It was dusty, and she added it to the pile of baby things to be washed. She would ask Harry if he wanted it for his bed or if she should take it to the nursery. Probably, he would want to share. He was like that. And he was a good influence on Dudley that way. She returned to the living room to find Harry handing Dudley his piggy bank (a Christmas gift from Grandpa Herbert) to pretend to eat. The boys ended up singing and mumming "There Was an Old Lady Who Swallowed a Fly" over and over again for the next hour, until Petunia turned on a cartoon to make them give it a rest.

She met Vernon at the door when he got home and immediately handed him the ultrasound picture. He smiled widely and put his strong hands on her belly as he kissed her cheek. "Did it all look good, then?"

"I don't have the official results yet, but the sonologist didn't look worried." She would get a call from the doctor tomorrow or the day after to tell her about the results and whether she had to come in for more testing, but in her heart, Petunia knew, their little girl was perfect. Just perfect.

Notes:

It's been awhile since we've had a fluffy Harry and the Dursleys exclusive. Enjoy.

Chapter 45: Confession

Severus eyed the table of contents of the latest book Petunia had sent him with distaste.

Part I. Sex Education: Theory, Practice and Perspective
1. Sex: instinct or appetite?
2. What does 'sex education' mean?
3. Moral education in the secondary school
4. Sex education in the United Kingdom
5. Sex education in schools
6. Sex education in colleges and departments of education
7. Sex education: press and parental perceptions
8. Counselling with sexually incompatible marriage partners
Part II. Psycho-sexual Development:
9. Children's concepts of sexuality and birth
10. Sexuality and sexual learning in childhood...

A knock came at his office door, and he almost slammed the book shut. Which was ridiculous because it was a perfectly legitimate textbook and causing the sudden noise was probably the most suspicious thing he could have done just then. Whatever. He was definitely dumping all these books on Minerva. He disillusioned Sex Education: Rationale and Reaction, along with the other books Petunia had sent piled next to his desk, snatched up a quill, and assumed his best glare. He wasn't actually in a particularly bad mood, but it was always good cover. "What?" he barked.

The door cracked open, and Gwenog inched her nose inside. "Is now a bad time, Professor?" she asked meekly.

He sighed loudly and threw the quill back down, just for effect. "No. You have to tell me about the second years eventually. Come in."

She opened the door and slipped inside, quietly settling into the chair across from him. Then her eyes lit upon the mug Chiara had given him, and she blinked in surprise. He had forgotten to disillusion that. Bother. He picked it up with cool deliberation and moved it to the far corner of his desk where it wouldn't distract her as much. "Christmas gift," he said shortly.

"Oh. It's... very colorful, sir."

"Regrettably so."

"Right." She kept staring at the mug. He rotated it so the "tears of my students" slogan was facing away from her.

"The second years?"

"Right. The session went well. I predicted almost all the questions they would ask, apart from a few I think were meant as jokes."

"You will have that with twelve- and thirteen-year-olds, unfortunately. How many were in attendance?"

"The turn out was good. All of the Slytherins of course, all of the Ravenclaws, all but two of the Hufflepuffs - the missing boys were in the hospital wing after a Charms mishap, apparently, and about half the Gryffindors. I think the Gryffindors in attendance were all muggleborn, actually. It was pretty obvious from the few questions they asked they had no idea what most of the electives were good for."

"Any surprises?"

"Not really. I think some other prefects were surprised how many second years were interested in Divinations as an 'easy pass' without realizing they won't be able to master half of the techniques without inborn Sight."

Severus grinned. Divinations was the one O.W.L. exam Gwenog had failed, entirely because of the practical. "I gather you labored under the same misconception when you were choosing your third-year electives."

Gwenog blushed. "Well... yeah. Mum never warned me off it." And her father was a halfblood raised muggle.

"No shame in not knowing things as a child. The Headmaster has considered instituting an aptitude test for Divinations, but Professor Trelawney says such measures are unreliable while one's mind and magic are still developing." Personally, Severus suspected Sybill just knew her class numbers would tank and wanted to protect her job, even though he was quite certain Albus would let her stay at Hogwarts regardless just to keep her away from any Death Eaters who might suspect her role in the Dark Lord's fall. That was neither here nor there, though. "Do you have the surveys for me of which electives they were most interested in before and after the session?"

"Right here. And the notes with the prefects' comments." Gwenog extracted a folder from her bag and placed it on his desk.

"Thank you. Was there anything else you needed?"

"Actually..." She looked down and took a deep breath. "There's been three Gryffindors, five Hufflepuffs, a Ravenclaw, and two Slytherins including Dirk Prentiss given detention for dealing and/or using banned muggle drugs since Christmas. Is this a new problem I caused when I asked Jane to get me the Mandies to spike Vivian's booze with back in November?" She said it all in one exhale and kept looking down at the desk rather than up at him.

Well. He hadn't expected a confession this evening. As a rule, spontaneous confessions were very un-Slytherin. He wasn't sure what to do with such forthrightness. "Methaqualone was not the only addition to Ms. Vandamme's firewhiskey," he said softly, stalling for time while he thought of what he actually needed to say.

"No... there was also Dreamless Sleep Potion and Draught of Peace. I combined them all to prolong the effects."

"I know you did. Was the combination your idea, or did you work with someone else?"

She hesitated. "It was my idea."

"But you had someone else calculate the ratios for you," Severus surmised. She nodded, but did not volunteer a name. He sighed. "I thought it might have been you and chose not to pursue it because it appeared your aim was rational, and you had at least gone to some lengths to ensure the safety of your victims. Why confess now?"

"Because Jane wasn't supposed to turn around and start selling Mandies all over Hogwarts! It was supposed to be a one-off thing!"

"So you suspected with the recent spate of detentions involving Ms. Court's associates, your role would eventually come out, and it was best to come clean early in order to salvage what you could of your reputation?"

"I... no! I wanted you to tell me if I got people hurt, because I didn't mean to!"

"Ah. How... noble." She looked like he had slapped her in the face. He held up a hand. "I do not mean that ironically. I asked you to clarify your motives out of legitimate curiosity. I did not blame you for hiding your role in this before. I would not judge you badly if you had decided to reveal your role now primarily out of a sense of self-preservation rather than guilt. I am however pleased that you are taking the situation seriously."

"So you agree, this is my fault."

Severus shrugged. "In part? Sure. To my knowledge, we've never had a problem with methaqualone at Hogwarts before this year, and the introduction of that specific substance to the school is inarguably your doing, regardless of why you did it. Is it your fault that Ms. Court decided to purchase more of the stuff than what you had personally ordered and distribute it? No, that was her decision. Is it your fault that there are students, like Mr. Prentiss, who are tempted to buy and use banned substances? No. There always have been and always will be. The faculty acknowledges that and subtly and not-so-subtly regulates the trade in banned substances to mitigate harm. Am I happy that your little scheme had unintended consequences severe enough to come to my attention? Obviously not..."

She slumped a little. "I'm sorry, sir."

"I can see that." He waited for her to say something, but the silence stretched. He tapped his hand on the desk a moment, thinking. He didn't want this episode to ruin her, and yet, she was still young enough, it probably could if she took it too hard and let it destroy her confidence. He had a feeling she was just as upset at disappointing him as at making an error in the first place. "Ms. Jones, what was your mistake?"

"Breaking the rules," she said dully.

He snorted. "Technically accurate, but not what I had in mind. You went to such extremes because you needed to obtain power over not only your victims but also Augusta. You needed something dramatic and effective enough that they could not ignore it, yet also something they would be unlikely to complain about to me, and something controllable. Doctored firewhiskey you knew only the seventh years would be drinking fit all those requirements. You didn't get caught, despite my suspicions, because you read me right as well. The only unacceptable part of your plan, from your perspective of course, is that the methaqualone has now spilled over to unintended targets. So, why did that happen?"

She looked up at him again. "Because I used Jane. Because with my instructions I helped Jane tap a new market she'd never had before. She'd never heard of Mandies before I asked for them."

"Why did you ask for them specifically, might I inquire?"

"Er, well, my brewer said I needed a fourth sedative ingredient to make the cocktail last a whole week, unless I was willing to substitute Draught of the Living Death, which I thought was too dangerous."

"It definitely would have been," Severus affirmed with a slight shudder. One mistake, and all the student victims would have ended up at St. Mungo's, Gwenog might have been expelled, and he'd probably still be doing the paperwork.

"I've never done Mandies myself, but when I was visiting my muggle grandmother over the summer, I went clubbing with my cousins, and we met up with some of their friends who were pushing that and weed. They said, er, that 'the high was just as good as barbies and sleepers but safer.' I was curious what that meant, 'cause I'd never heard of barbies or sleepers before either, so I talked with them about it for awhile. I didn't want to try anything, but it was...well..."

"A culture you had never encountered before. As you said, you were curious."

"Exactly. It basically came down to Mandies make you feel sleepy and relaxed but are less likely to make you stop breathing than the other stuff. Did you know muggles take pills for fun that can make them stop breathing?"

"Yes."

She blinked, clearly taken aback by his simple answer. He stifled a smirk. Teenagers, even clever and mature ones like Gwenog, always thought concepts novel to them must be new and remarkable to everybody. "Oh. Anyway, that's why I thought of using Mandies, and when my brewer tested them out, they said it would work out."

"Which it did." He wondered who her potions conspirator was. Only a few Slytherin sixth and seventh years had the grades for it, and she'd poisoned two of them. She might have gone to a Ravenclaw, he supposed.

"Yeah. But like I said, Jane had never head of them before. I had to tell her what they were and how to get them. I should have realized she might sell to other people and either not involved her in the first place or taken steps to keep her from spreading it around."

"Correct. Ten points to Slytherin for admitting to a professor when you made a mistake that might have endangered others and recognizing where and how you went wrong."

"Professor Snape, you can't reward me for this!"

"Can't I? Well, then, minus ten points for reckless endangerment of your fellow students."

She laughed without humor. "You're not going to do anything with this, are you?"

"Why should I? I'm not in the habit of punishing student activities that took place over three months ago. You have not confessed to any more recent infractions, and I do not need your testimony against Ms. Court, who you may know already has detention with Professor Sprout every Sunday for the next two months for selling Mandrax to other students."

"Yeah, I know. I was surprised she didn't rat me out, honestly."

"Must be Hufflepuff loyalty," he said glibly. "You may take that as a lesson in how to better use the attributes of those in other Houses. That said, I will be very disappointed in you if you do not learn more from this, Ms. Jones. Actions have consequences, and not necessarily the ones you expect and are prepared for. You must learn to think of not only how your own actions affect yourself and those nearest you, but how they might affect the world. And you must learn how to mitigate risks you don't immediately think of, for instance by building alliances with people you trust enough to ask their opinions as you did with me tonight. Particularly if you maintain your ambitions as we discussed at the beginning of the year."

"I do, sir. And I will do better, sir."

"I expect you will. You want to be a professional quidditch captain, which means you will be a celebrity. Celebrities are, by definition, influential. You must be prepared to manage that influence, or else others will twist it to their own purposes that may not align with yours. Celebrities are also, by definition, watched. Even a hint of misbehavior will see you devoured by the media, because it will be a good story. You must be prepared to own the narrative if and when that happens."

"Yes, sir. I'm sorry, sir."

"You already said that. There's no need to repeat yourself. I do understand, though. It's very hard to come to terms with making a mistake that hurts other people. Take it from one who knows, the very best thing you can do in these circumstances is not self-flagellate and make the unfortunate situation about you but to learn how to not make such mistakes again. And, where possible, apologize to whoever you hurt and repay the debt."

While she digested that advice, he flipped through a stack of parchment on his desk and extracted a small sheet. "You may take this with you back to the dormitory, by the way. The results from the latest Heir of Slytherin poll. Inform your classmates there will be no more polls until May, after which I will make my final judgment."

He passed it to her and watched her as her eyes greedily read the results despite her wounded ego. She had slipped to third place after the first vote in January, when the various purebloods realized they would actually have to work for the prize and started bribing voters. Now she was back in first place where she wanted to be. She did not smile or otherwise react, merely tucked the parchment into her bag. "Yes, sir. I won't disappoint you."

He nodded and dismissed her. She would be fine. She was too good not to be.

As soon as she was gone, he conjured a bag for all the books he needed to deposit in Minerva's office tonight after he was certain she had gone to bed. He then gulped the rest of his tea and shrank the rainbow mug down to fit in his pocket. He would keep it in his quarters from now on. Gwenog would not gossip about it, but there were plenty of teenaged troglodytes in Hogwarts who would.

Notes:

Early update because I'm going out of town for a few days. Sex Education: Rationale and Reaction was a real book published in the 1970s. I really did like writing these Sev-Gwenog scenes. Gwenog definitely knows she's his favorite, and she might even have figured out exactly why she's his favorite, but neither of them will ever say so.

Please remember, combining sedatives is never a good idea for us muggles either! If in doubt, ask your doctor.

Chapter 46: Easter with the Family

"I'll admit, the Dueling Club has actually been a fun new challenge," Severus grunted as he helped Vernon lift up Harry's bedframe so they could take it downstairs. He would have simply levitated it, but Marge was visiting for Easter. "For one thing, I've got students of all ages to work with at once, which is a very different set up from my typical classroom. For another, they're all there voluntarily and actually want to learn how to fight. The trick has been figuring out how to do that effectively with such a large and diverse group in terms of skill level and experience."

"It's all about making sure the basic techniques are drilled into them so well they can actually think about what their next move should be once they're in the ring, rather than wasting thought power on how to do it," Vernon said knowledgeably. For the first time in... ever... Severus and Vernon genuinely had common ground to talk about that wasn't just Vernon's wife and children. Vernon had been a champion boxer all through his school years from the age of nine, and captain of the team at Smeltings for the last two of them. He had a lot of interest and strong opinions when it came to the best way to run a combat-based sporting class.

"That was certainly the focus of our first month," Severus agreed. "Basic attacks, basic defenses, and footwork."

"Yes, footwork! The beginners always underestimate the importance of the lower half of the body when they're just thinking about what to do with their arms."

"You would have laughed at the demonstration match at the first meeting," Severus told him. "I took six on one - the students I trusted the most not to be completely irresponsible idiots. They weren't bad, for students, but I used only the most basic techniques and still won, mostly because I know how to move when I'm fighting, and they really, really didn't."

"Well, and you also know the forms - what attacks usually or best follow what defense, and how to shake 'em up creatively. It's just as much about putting them on the wrong foot."

"Quite. Anyway, I started incorporating sparring and one or two demonstration duels towards the end of every session this month. The sparring has stricter safety rules than a competition duel would, that way I can use the upper years to help moderate the lower years' matches, and the prefects to moderate the upper years' matches."

"It sounds like a fair system, given what you've got to work with. Be better if you had an assistant coach, of course. Through that door. We'll leave it in the garage." Severus surreptitiously opened the door to the garage with a little wandless magic, since Marge was not in eyesight. Certainly in earshot in the kitchen though, loudly cooing over Harry and Dudley, and over Petunia's growing baby bump.

They deposited the red-and-yellow bedframe against the wall of the garage and headed back upstairs so Vernon could show Severus where he wanted cushioning charms and child alarm spells. "It's working fairly well. Mostly. The only problems so far are certain sixth- and seventh-year agitators getting a little too cocky about their own abilities after getting the chance to square off against an actual opponent."

"What's your plan for them?"

"Well, if they overtly break any of the club safety rules, or are caught fighting in the halls outside of class, there's a mandatory suspension from the club. Only had to do that once so far, fortunately. I also went up against two of them myself for the demonstration duels at the most recent meeting to take them down a few pegs."

"Risky, that. Boys like that, hard to teach them respect for their coach or for the sport itself. If you give them an inch, they'll take a mile."

"Believe me, I know."

"I hope you beat them, then."

"Trounced them thoroughly." He said it matter-of-factly, not boastfully. It wasn't exactly impressive to best students in one-on-one duels, even seventh years. It had been fun, though. He had toyed with them with a completely nonverbal barrage of seventh year spells for several minutes each, wearing them out. The floor he kept shattering with Reductor curses, the pieces reduplicating with Geminio into mounds of shifting gravel, and he had littered the area with low, completely solid but also perfectly invisible imperturbable charms. It was visually impressive, but it was all damage he could easily undo in seconds after the duel was over. Towards the end, both boys were blinded with Lumos Solem, bleeding from gouging curses, tripping constantly, and panting for breath. He finally took down the two Gryffindors with a single stunner and a disarming charm, respectively.

"Well, they'll either hate you for that, or with luck, you'll have earned their grudging respect."

"Hopefully the latter. I used some flashier techniques to do it this time." He was hopeful that the very fact he had bothered to use more advanced magic against them would go some way to flatter their egos rather than feed worsening resentment. He had also personally attended to their minor injuries afterwards and given them private advice for how to improve their dueling skills. Even if they doubled down in their loathing of the Slytherin Bat though, he didn't really care. He'd just throw them out of the club if they continued to disrespect him. "At least the suspense will kill me faster than they will."

Vernon laughed.

"Vernon, Joseph," Marge called. "I'm taking the boys for a walk around the neighborhood. Petunia wants you, Joseph, when you're done up there." She headed down the hall, dog at her heels. Two little, prattling boys ran after her.

Severus smiled briefly at the sound of trotting feet before following Vernon into the boys' room. There, Vernon directed him to place cushioning charms all around the bunk beds. He added an alarm spell to the upper bunk to let either Vernon or Petunia know if someone was attempting to climb the ladder. Finally, he scratched a tiny set of runes into the pillars supporting the upper bunk to create a weak deceleration ward, in order to slow a fall enough that together with the cushioning charms, the risk for broken bones and addled heads in this room was practically nil. Vernon had him place a few cushioning charms around the cradle in the nursery as well. Then Severus headed downstairs, leaving Vernon to finish rearranging the nursery furniture to his heart's content.

"Petunia," Severus greeted her in the kitchen. He studied her a moment. He'd barely had time to say hello earlier before first the boys pounced on him, then Marge butted in, then finally Vernon commandeered his services. Pregnancy suited her, he thought. Her belly had obviously grown, but so had the warm, magical glow he had first seen several months ago. Her eyes were bright, her hair thicker and more lustrous than usual. She looked happy, and he was glad for her. Severus realized he was staring and looked around the room instead, taking in the array of paints, dyes, crayons, and a few damaged hard-boiled eggs spread all over the counter and some on the floor. He raised an eyebrow and looked back up at her. He was a little surprised she was so happy, given the mess. She usually hated messes. "How can I help?"

"Well, we need to clean up a bit, or we'll never make it to lunch, and we need to hide eggs in the yard for the boys to find. Which do you want to do?"

Severus nodded seriously. "Right. Do you mind if I clean this up... efficiently?"

She smiled, sat down on one of the chairs carelessly pulled out from the table, and gestured expansively for him to proceed. "Usually, yes I would mind, but today, since it's just us in the kitchen and my ankles are already starting to swell after being on my feet all morning... not so much. Have at it."

With her blessing secured, he took out his wand and cast a few household charms. The bits of egg and shell all floated over to the bin. The cups of dye emptied themselves in the sink, washed themselves, and lined up on the dish rack to drain. The drips and stains of pigment vanished. The crayons and other craft supplies returned to their boxes and stacked themselves neatly.

Petunia watched it all with interest. "Thanks. I really could get used to that."

"Any time. And by that I mean any time that does not violate the Statute of Secrecy while Harry is young enough not to risk sanctioning for underage magic, since the Ministry of Magic doesn't know I know you and I'd prefer to keep it that way indefinitely." Certainly so long as there remained any question of the Dark Lord coming back.

Petunia sighed wistfully, then shrugged. "I like cleaning the normal way anyway, so it's not that great a loss. Let's go to the garden." She picked up two boxes of painted eggs, handed one to him, and led the way out the door.

"How's your stomach holding up at this point, Petunia? Did the soother I made you help?" he asked.

"It did, wonderfully. I've been craving Chinese food and curries frequently for the last few months, and now that the heartburn is gone, I'm back to indulging the cravings as much as I want. At this point, it's just the swollen ankles and the backaches from standing around too much that bother me."

"Things I don't have good pregnancy-safe potions for, unfortunately. You'll just have to find more excuses to sit back and put your feet up."

"I might, if I didn't have two four-year-old terrors to run around after every day."

He chuckled in sympathy for her plight. "Alas, you are at an impasse. Have you settled on a name yet?" he asked while peering around for good hiding places. "I was going to ask Vernon, but I got distracted." Unfortunately, the garden was still pretty bare, hardly any of the plants leafing out yet. Fallow dirt and bare twigs made terrible hiding places. He'd have to be creative.

"You two did seem to be having an unusually lively conversation," Petunia observed. "As for names, I'm currently torn between Dahlia and Violet. Vernon likes both those as well, but he's rather fond of Heather at the moment. He liked what you said about all its meanings." Independence, happiness, and good luck, primarily. Plus smelled lovely and made excellent honey that was used as a stabilizer in Felix Felicis amongst other potions.

"All good options," he agreed.

"We're still lost on middle names, though. There's no family traditions to help us choose, and I don't want to give her two flower names..."

"Well, think of what her initials will be, then think of how each name will sound alongside any of your three possible third names, and then if I may be so bold, consult me about hidden meanings of your top picks."

"You make it sound easy," she complained.

"Well, the good news is you've still got... what is it, two and a half months to think about it?"

"Yes. And Sev, if you hide an egg that well, that high up in a tree, it will never be found again. Remember that Harry and Dudley are only four," Petunia said with a light laugh. Severus looked over at her. She was "hiding" her basket of Easter eggs in such places as behind the wheelbarrow, next to Dudley's peddle car, and right in the middle of the lawn that was only starting to turn green.

"They can still find them with their eyes," Severus countered. He had faith in the boys' creativity and determination. They would find the egg in the tree eventually, just as they would find the ones he had stuck inside the watering can and in an odd niche he'd discovered where the garden wall met the hedge.

"Even if their eyes are only three feet off the ground?"

Severus paused, checking to see that there was indeed an angle in the garden from which the egg he had just placed in Petunia's maple tree would be visible from such a low position. There... was. So it was still fair. He grinned at her. "They'll appreciate the challenge."

"They'll get frustrated and start whining if the Easter Egg hunt takes too long," she predicted.

"We can always give them a hint to look up if they don't think of it themselves." He pushed his next egg lightly into the upper branches of the hedge until the twigs mostly concealed the bright blue color. From below, the color might be mistaken for the sky.

"They'll want to actually pick the eggs up by themselves too, you know."

"Then they can ask me, or Vernon, to pick them up so they can reach it," Severus replied good-naturedly. He was enjoying the petty argument. "It will teach them about both the satisfaction of exercising their developing independence and about appropriate appeals to authority."

Petunia snorted at that. "Ooh, look at you with your fancy psychology speak. Good to know you do in fact read all those books I send you."

"Most of them," Severus agreed.

"Have they been helpful at all?"

"Definitely. You'll be happy to know I even broke into Minerva's office the other night to consult one of the ones about adolescent relationships I... lent to her."

Petunia laughed out loud. "By 'lent,' do you mean 'anonymously dumped on her' along with all the other sex education books?"

"Possibly."

"I wondered whether something like that might happen, particularly since you never mentioned anything you had read from those particular books after I gave them to you. It's alright, I don't mind. I'm sure your Deputy Headmistress will put them to good use. And I'll bite: what was going on you felt the need to steal the book back after all?"

"Career counseling for the fifth years. The sessions are... revealing." And a good reminder he had a long way to go to rehabilitate Slytherin House. It was different, meeting with all the students in the year, not just the noise-makers.

"Oh yes?"

"Well, take for instance the girl I was talking to that led me to reclaim the reference from Minerva. One of my prefects. Bright girl, really, from a struggling family. I met with her at the beginning of the year as well, and she still has the same goals as then, to become a successful homemaker. She's certainly focusing on the right subjects for homesteading: herbology, charms, potions, and care of magical creatures. But, she really struggles with potions, enough I might not be able to accept her into the N.E.W.T. class. And if she only takes those four subjects to N.E.W.T. she'll be limiting her own career opportunities if she ever decides she does want or need to work outside the home."

"What else would you have her take?"

"Transfiguration, which is actually her second-best subject and difficult enough it could open a lot of doors for her in the job market, and Defense Against the Dark Arts."

"How many careers is that required for?" Petunia asked. She set her last egg down at the edge of a flower bed, straightened up, and rubbed her back.

Severus paused. "Well, not that many, honestly, but it's the principle of the thing. I don't want her to end up in a position where she needed to be better at defense, and wasn't. But, she expects to learn all she needs from the Dueling Club, which she is at least determined to keep up with."

"So, she has more confidence in you than she does in the curriculum, eh? That's speaks well of your club, then, Sev. I'm still waiting to hear the bit about relationship advice, though."

Severus grimaced slightly and stuck his last yellow Easter Egg into a cluster of daffodils just starting to bloom. "Can you think of no reason a homemaker would benefit from advanced self-defense training?"

"...Ah. How bad is her boyfriend?"

"He has issues. I didn't realize they had started dating until this week." He knew exactly why Erica had fallen for Dirk Prentiss, unfortunately: he was good-looking, and she felt sorry for him. He told her in no uncertain terms that wanting to take care of the unfortunate was not a solid foundation for a successful romantic relationship. Maybe Dirk would get his act together by the time Erica was ready to graduate Hogwarts, or maybe the very new relationship would fizzle out in the meantime, but Severus could imagine a world where determined, hard-working Erica ended up married too young to Dirk or someone similar, only to lose the romance to the bottle and end up both the primary breadwinner of the family and under constant threat from an abusive spouse. And it could be worse for her than it ever had been for Eileen, married to a wizard who could curse her right back. "I am hopeful for him, but he needs to focus on his own problems before seriously considering a significant other. And she needs to pick someone better adjusted when the time comes that she's actually ready to marry."

"Which is young in your world," Petunia said cannily. After all, Lily had married at eighteen.

"Exactly."

"That would be a tricky conversation." She gestured for them to return to the house, and they sat down together in the sun room.

"It was. She wasn't the only one. A lot of the purebloods are so extremely conscious of their blood status, ordinary dating becomes horrendously stressful, as they try to navigate not only their hormones and personal feelings but also the school dynamics and their family's politics. Not to mention the other prefect of that year, whose guardians just recently arranged a betrothal for him." Personally, Severus thought it was terrible timing for them to spring that on Felix right when he was supposed to be ramping up studying for O.W.L.s.

"Wizards still do that?"

"He's Sacred Twenty-Eight, basically nobility in our world. Family's very old, very rich, very politically powerful, at least on the continent." Very blood-prejudiced, though Felix himself seemed apolitical.

"And how old is he?"

"Sixteen."

"Poor thing. So, what's a boy like that go on to study after this year?"

"He's actually the top of the class, should have been in Ravenclaw if his family were any other. He's the heir to the British line, and his father died in the war so he'll inherit next year. As you might imagine, his course has already been set for him. Pretty much all the heirs in his position take the same N.E.W.T.s if they've got the grades: Charms, Defense, History of Magic, Ancient Runes, Astronomy, and usually the Art senior elective. At least, the ones in Slytherin do, where the families tend to be more controlling. If they fail at too many of those courses in their O.W.L.s, then they add one or two of the others back in." Transfiguration preferred over Arithmancy, preferred over Potions, preferred over Herbology. Of course, Transfiguration and Arithmancy were two of the most technical classes in Hogwarts, hence why Augusta was still in his potions class after a mere 'Acceptable' in her Defense O.W.L. Ironically, her potions N.E.W.T. score might actually improve over her O.W.L., since she seemed to learn the material better when she wasn't being pressured and stressed about the subject by her family. Or maybe that was his curriculum improvements.

"Not much overlap with that other student who was interested in homesteading," Petunia observed.

Severus sneered. "No, the highborn have little use for 'hands-on' subjects, as a rule. The exceptions are those for whom breeding of certain magical organisms or potions patents are a major part of the family business, neither of which applies to Felix. A shame, really, as the boy excels at both Herbology and Potions. The rules of tradition can be a real burden for heirs like him that actually care about their schoolwork."

"Well, can't he keep taking both of those as well, if he's so smart as you say?"

"He'd certainly enjoy advanced potions more than painting," Severus agreed. "Or history for that matter, since the quality of teaching in that subject has... declined at Hogwarts. And actually, yes, he can and I think will. I pointed out he's in a somewhat unusual position as an Heir to one of the Sacred Twenty-Eight with a guardian council rather than parents or grandparents breathing down his neck. Since he doesn't live with his guardians or correspond with them much except for business and major holidays, he could easily apply to continue his favorite classes in addition to the politically beneficial ones. His guardians won't know until partway through the year so long as he keeps his grades up, and then he'll come into his inheritance in the autumn before they can do anything about it."

"He doesn't live with his guardians? Why ever not?"

Because almost all the British Rosiers had been incarcerated or killed in the war, as had the Blacks, Felix' closest relatives. Both the boy's godparents had likewise died in the war. By all rights, he should have grown up in the Malfoy household under his cousin Narcissa's guardianship, but that had been untenable at the time Felix had been orphaned because the Malfoys were under scrutiny for Death Eater activity themselves. And of course, Andromeda Black had married a muggleborn, unacceptably. He still had to live in Britain and attend Hogwarts, according to his father's will, so the French branch of the Rosier family had set up a guardianship council for him and left him in the care of family servants. "Lawyers and politics," he eventually answered Petunia.

"I'll say it again: poor thing."

"Quite. I told him he is still allowed to enjoy his own life, even if his career as an heir is already fully plotted. It's perfectly respectable for a family head to have an academic hobby." Petrus Parkinson had taken it even further with his Hogwarts professorship, though he wasn't the head of the main Parkinson line, and he only accepted that position after his son had taken over a great many of the family's business affairs for him anyway. "Other than those two, the most frustrating counseling sessions were the ones who have either no idea as to what they want to do in life or just no perspective as to what constitutes an achievable goal. There were way too many of those, particularly for House Slytherin. It was a little depressing."

The most distressing interview was with a half-blood son of a Knockturn Alley squib, Quentin Diablo, who fully expected to return to Knockturn Alley and scrape a living no better than his mother's. Severus couldn't help but ask Quentin how the hell he had ended up in Slytherin in the first place if he not only wasn't pureblood but also didn't want to make anything of his life. He was sorry to discover that the child had faced severe bullying from upper year Slytherins all through his first four years at Hogwarts, some just as bad as Severus had dealt with as a student. The main difference was Quentin's tormenters were always careful to confine their activities to the dormitories and not to leave any marks, a silent sin so far as the staff were concerned. It had thoroughly broken the spirit and hopes he used to have that Hogwarts would be different from what he was used to at home. Even when the bullying had largely stopped with the changes Severus had enacted this year via Gwenog and Augusta, and with the graduation of two key perpetrators, Quentin was still left with absolutely no friends and no clear prospects. He was an average student who had learned to keep his head down too well: he had never once come to Severus' attention throughout the year. The only times the bullying showed up in Petrus' files were a few times in first year and once when Erica had brought it up with Gwenog last year. Erica hadn't known the details though, and Quentin told Petrus the incident in question "wasn't a big deal." Quentin was just...invisible to the staff, and very, very obviously depressed. Severus had told the boy to think about his favorite subjects and report back to Severus' office again in a week so they could talk again. Severus would request tea and cake from the kitchens for the occasion. If sugar and company didn't work to perk the lad up, he would make him see Pomphrey too.

"Severus?"

He startled and looked over at Petunia, who was watching him. "What?"

"You looked like you were thinking about something upsetting."

He sighed. "I was."

"Do you want to talk about it?"

Just then, he caught the sound of Harry's bright voice drifting over from the road. He smiled faintly. "Maybe later. I think the egg-hunters are back. No need to ruin the holiday."

The Easter Egg hunt was a marvelous success. The boys found all of Petunia's eggs fairly quickly. Petunia sensed exactly when Dudley started to become frustrated with the difficulty of finding the ones Severus had hidden and started giving him hints. Harry was the first one to notice an egg up on the kitchen windowsill, far out of his reach. His first impulse was obviously to reach and jump for it, which probably would have triggered a little accidental magic to summon the egg to him. Since Marge was here, Severus quickly walked over and picked him up instead so he could reach it. Severus then ended up carrying Harry all around the garden on his shoulders, the boy happily searching the trees and hedge and pointing out eggs for Severus to hand up to him. Dudley found most of Severus' eggs on the ground, and Harry found all of the ones higher up. The only one that stumped them was the one in the chink in the wall, which Marge's dog ended up finding and eating.

The Easter luncheon was a little less pleasant. Marge apparently overheard Severus chatting with Vernon about the most recent Dueling Club meeting earlier that morning. Mindful of Marge's presence downstairs, he had taken care to couch his words in non-magical language, but that meant she now concluded he had taken up the post of fencing instructor as well as chemistry professor at "that posh private boarding school." Although she voiced the opinion that fencing was vastly inferior to boxing when it came to men's fighting sports, she still enthusiastically approved of this new aspect of his/"Joseph's" character. It was off-putting, especially after she sampled a tumbler or two of brandy and started making suggestive comments about liking to see him wield his sword one day, long after the general conversation had moved on to other topics. Luckily, Vernon shut her down at that point by asking for Severus' assistance in moving even more furniture around upstairs. Severus agreed instantly. The two of them shoved a dresser back and forth across the room for awhile, idly talking about fighting strategies, remarkably similar in both magical battles and fisticuffs.

They finally broke off when Petunia came up to put the boys down for their nap and let them know Marge was taking a nap on the couch as well.

Notes:

Sorry, Marge will always find a way to be The Worst. I contemplated actually writing scenes of Severus doing career counseling, but then I came to my senses. If you're questioning my logic about the standard pureblood electives, I based them on what would have been the educational standards for the nobility around the time of the implementation of the Statute of Secrecy in the late 1600s, assuming they would have learned manners, reading, writing, dancing, and modern languages at home prior to starting Hogwarts. Ancient Runes is a natural extension of language study, History of Magic is the closest Hogwarts comes to any kind of political science class, art/painting and portraiture obviously has more upper class appeal, Astronomy has the longest and grandest academic tradition of all, Charms is the most practical, and Defense is an obvious choice if you're going to have family feuds and things. While math/arithmancy is respectable and is probably one of the standard third-fifth year electives, it's too complicated to make it the standard N.E.W.T. for the Sacred Twenty-Eight heirs, who are required to excel in whatever they do or else. Meanwhile, education of the nobility in biology and chemistry did not become vogue until the 1700s and 1800s, after the wizarding society had already partitioned itself out and started drifting apart from muggle civilization. As an aside, under this schema the reason Draco Malfoy took Care of Magical Creatures was because his family raises Abraxans (huge flying horses), and probably other valuable magical livestock.

Notes:

It seems to me Snape actually had the best chance of getting through to Petunia in the early years, simply because she already knows him and he knows how to behave like a muggle. They can bond over their mixed feelings for Harry/Harry's parents... Even though it's clear from Chapter 1 that the Dursleys were unpleasant Incredibly Normal People even before Harry came into their lives, I think it's reasonable to suppose the later extremes were still stress and anxiety related at heart. It would have been terrifying for the Dursleys to take Harry in if they knew anything about what they were signing up for, and really confusing for Dudley since he was only two. He would pretty much have to hate Harry simply because he wouldn't understand what about his cousin had put his parents so much on edge. And the pattern of neglect (castoffs only, sleeping in the cupboard under the stairs, leaving him out of family outings) all start as paranoid caution... which hopefully with this little bit of reassurance will no longer be perpetuated.

As an aside, the fates of the Evans parents is never spelled out as far as I know, so that bit of extra tragedy you can blame me for.

Originally posted on FF.net, and the update schedule is way ahead over there if you're impatient lol