Disclaimer: This chapter includes a scene from the chapter “Snape Victorious” of Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince. The dialogue in that scene is therefore all Rowling’s.

Chapter 18: Snape Victorious

Severus sat at his desk, eyeing with disfavor the copy of the Sunday Daily Prophet that a House Elf had brought along with his breakfast. Stasia Briggs smiled shyly up at him from an in-depth article on the summer’s Death Eater activities as she clung to her mother’s robe. Putting the paper aside, for it would contain nothing he did not already know on that subject, he reached into a drawer from his left for a pile of lesson plans he had drawn up at home and started reading the first one as he sipped his tea.

Two cups of tea and half the pile later, Severus heard a tentative knock on his door. He glanced at his watch, surprised, and it confirmed that the time was still a quarter hour before breakfast would be served in the Great Hall.

“Come in!” he said curtly.

The door opened to reveal the tallish, stout figure of the Muggle Studies teacher. Severus rose as she stepped inside.

“Good morning, Severus!” she said brightly, closing the door behind her. “I’m glad to see you are up and working already. I hesitated to come by this early, but I wanted to speak with you before school starts and, well, you only came in late last night.”

“Good morning, Charity,” he replied, and with a wave of his wand, conjured a guest chair for her use. “Do sit down.”

He waited as she gathered her robes about her and lowered herself into her chair, before resuming his seat. She cast her eyes about, seeming unsure how to begin, and her eyes alit on the newspaper he had left at the front of the desk.

“The attack on the Briggses, such a frightful story,” Charity sighed. “It was reading such stories all summer that gave me the idea I want to discuss with you.”

“Indeed?” Severus asked, puzzled.

“Are you familiar with the Muggle Studies curriculum?” she asked.

“I can’t say that I am,” he replied with a shrug. “It was not a class I elected to take.”

“Naturally,” she said with a smile. “I cover very basic things, I’m sure you know it all. The basics of British Muggle society, the various ways Muggles get things done without magic, that sort of thing.”

“I see,” he replied noncommittally, though he was not at all sure where she was going with this. The subtle emphasis he thought he had heard on the word “you” made him wonder whether it was a direction in which he wanted to go.

“It is useful knowledge, but, well, teaching that Muggle Aurors are called policemen, and Muggles can only fly in airplanes, and the like, seems an inadequate response to what is happening now. I want to make the Muggles real for my students. To make them see they are people, children, just like them.” She paused and looked up at him.

“An admirable idea,” Severus replied. “I am sure Albus would agree.” Without a doubt, so then why was she talking to him about this?

“Oh, I am so pleased you agree,” she said. “You’ll help me, then?”

“I don’t see how you imagine I might be of any assistance,” he said.

“I want to expose my students to personal accounts of what life among Muggles is like,” she said.

“I fear that I don’t have any useful contributions to make on that score,” he replied.

“You must have some experiences you could recount. I was thinking of teaching the students football, to illustrate how the love of sport is common to us all. You’re keen on your House Quidditch team – surely you used to like football?” she asked.

“I did not,” Severus replied firmly. An understatement, that, but he had no wish to belabor the point with Charity. “I suggest you speak to the Heads of the other Houses. I am sure they can suggest Muggleborn students in the upper years that would have all the pleasant stories and enthusiasm for football you could desire.”

“I plan to, Severus,” she replied. “But my students already know their Muggleborn housemates. To have an adult come and speak, a fully qualified wizard who has made his way in the magical world, would have a completely different impact.”

Severus cast about in his mind for a suitable person with whom to distract her from her purpose. What had been the name of that pet of Horace’s ... Cresswell, that was it. “How about bringing in successful wizards from outside the school? You could speak to Horace – Dirk Cresswell, head of the Goblin Liaison Office, is an old friend of his, and a Muggleborn wizard. He might know others, as well.”

“I think you’d be far more interesting, Severus. You’re a wizard’s wizard. Head of Slytherin, expert at Potions and Defense Against the Dark Arts… Surely, you have some fond memory of your father, of primary school, of a childhood playmate …”

A vision of two girls on a swing set rose up in his mind’s eye, evoked by her words. “No,” Severus stated flatly. He rose, to cover his confusion, as he fought to compose a more tactfully worded reply.

“I regret that I can be of no help to you with your project, Charity,” he said smoothly, once again in control of himself.

“I see,” she replied, rising as well. She was no longer smiling; her brown eyes narrowed in suspicion. “Very well, Severus. In that case I shall waste no more of your time.”

Charity left his office with a swish of her robes and the door closed silently behind her. Severus picked up his wand and Vanished the chair he had conjured for her. He sat back down and with a single sharp exhalation, returned to his lesson plans.

By mid-morning, he had finished reviewing his plans for the first week. He stowed his papers back in the desk drawer and headed upstairs to his new classroom, the box of supplies he had ordered for it hovering before him as he walked, obedient to every twitch of his wand. As he entered the room, he directed the box to land on the desk in front. He looked about the room, and noted it was mercifully devoid of any decoration by its previous occupant. The extensive decoration of her office, which he’d had the misfortune to visit on a couple of occasions, had apparently satisfied her.

After glancing about appraisingly, he began with the windows. A flick of his wand conjured dark, dusty drapes from a storeroom. Another wave, and they closed over the windows, plunging the room in darkness. He set candles to float in midair to illuminate the bare stone walls between the windows, and hung the first of his pictures on the wall. Satisfied with the effect, he proceeded to hang the rest. After a final glance around, he strode to the back of the room to investigate the cupboard there. Among the detritus left behind by three decades of former Defense Against the Dark Arts teachers, he spotted a new-looking pile of textbooks. Wilbert Slinkhard’s Defensive Magical Theory sat on top of the pile. Severus lifted the books out of the cupboard and turned to find Minerva standing in the doorway.

“Good day, Severus,” she greeted him.

“Good day, Minerva,” he replied, setting the pile of books back down.

“I thought I might find you here,” she said. “I have the Slytherins’ OWL results and this year’s course schedules for you.”

She handed him two scrolls of parchment, which he tucked away inside his robes.

“Thank you,” he replied.

“I spoke with Charity after breakfast,” Minerva said, looking at Severus intently through her square-rimmed glasses.

“You suggested she speak to me,” Severus deduced. “I assure you, my childhood reminiscences of life among Muggles are not at all the thing for her new project.”

“I see,” said Minerva, pursing her lips. She looked around the room, and a small frown, seemingly indicating her disapproval of what she saw, wrinkled her brow.

“I am in the process of redecorating,” Severus said mildly. “I suppose the school will have no objection if I get rid of these?” He waved at the pile of books.

Minerva followed his gesture, and as she recognized the books, her frown deepened. “Certainly not!” she said emphatically.

Severus pointed his wand at the books and Vanished them.

“Oh, Albus wishes to see you directly after luncheon,” Minerva said. “He will be showing you the security measures he has put in place.”

“Very well,” Severus said. “If you see Albus before then, please do let him know I shall come.”

“You will not be at lunch, then, Severus?” she inquired.

“No,” he responded. “My late arrival has left me little time to prepare. I’d better make the most of what time I have left.”

“Then I will see you at the welcoming feast,” Minerva said.

“Yes,” Severus agreed.

‘Until then,” she said, and swept out of the room.

Severus followed shortly, having ascertained nothing else of Umbridge’s remained. He pulled out the class schedules to peruse as he walked back down to his office.

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Severus hurried up the stairs from the dungeons into the Entrance Hall just ahead of the first carriage full of students to arrive from the station. He was not the last teacher to arrive, he saw. The chair to the left of the Headmaster, usually occupied by Professor McGonagall, was still empty, as was the one next to it. Albus noted his questioning gaze at it, and after they exchanged greetings and Severus seated himself at Albus’s right, next to Professor Sinistra, Albus explained,

“Hagrid spent the afternoon visiting his brother, so Minerva is bringing up the first years tonight.”

“Good evening, Severus,” said Slughorn, “Aurora here was just telling me about her brother-in-law, who owns the largest broom manufactory in Eastern Europe.”

“Fascinating,” said Severus insincerely, as he looked around the room. More and more students were filing in, but the ones in which he was most interested were still absent. He participated in a desultory manner in the small talk at the head table and kept his eyes on the doorway. He noticed Granger and Weasley walk in. She appeared, characteristically, to be lecturing her gangly companion about something or other. Potter was nowhere in sight. Nor did he appear as his friends made their way to the Gryffindor table to sit with Weasley’s sister and Longbottom. Severus turned back to the door. Several more groups of students came by, including a giggling Pansy Parkinson in the company, surprisingly, of Blaise Zabini, with Crabbe and Goyle trailing along behind them. Malfoy was nowhere in sight as they all arranged themselves at the Slytherin table, Parkinson ostentatiously saving an empty spot next to herself. So she was expecting Malfoy, Severus deduced. And indeed, he entered shortly afterwards, in the wake of a group of fifth year Ravenclaw students, and sauntered over to the spot Parkinson had saved for him.

However, as the stream of students died down to a trickle, and then ceased altogether, there was still no sign of Potter. Where the devil was he, Severus wondered, as Minerva appeared, leading in the first years to face the assembled student body. She placed the Sorting Hat on a stool and it began its song.

Surely, Potter had made it onto the train, with an Auror escort. If he had not, the school ought to have been notified hours ago… Could he have disappeared from the train somehow? There were Aurors at Hogsmeade Station, as well, Severus reminded himself. They would have noticed the boy’s absence. Doubtless, they were investigating it. He yearned to join them, if only for the pleasure of reading the boy the riot act for pulling such a stunt now, of all times, after what had happened over the summer…

A furtive jab of an elbow into his left side interrupted his thoughts.

“Slytherin!” hissed Albus under his breath.

Indeed, his House’s table was applauding as the first selection into Slytherin House approached the table – a tiny girl, of Asian ancestry, Severus noted, as he joined dutifully in the applause.

“Potter’s missing,” Severus hissed back under cover of the noise.

Albus glanced at him and nodded once. “Nymphadora will handle it,” he whispered, and turned back to the Sorting Ceremony.

Severus felt less certain of that, but dutifully attempted to divide his attention between the doorway to the Entrance Hall, and the Sorting. It did not prove necessary for Albus to prompt him to applaud his students again, but Severus’s unease continued to grow as no word of Potter came.

The final student, a husky blonde who could have by her size been a fourth year, picked up the hat and sat down on the stool.

“Hufflepuff!” the hat shouted, and Severus’s gaze drifted back to the open doorway, where a glint of silver at the doors to the castle caught his eye. It was a Patronus, and one he recognized.

“Patronus from Nymphadora,” Snape hissed to Albus as the Hufflepuff table erupted in cheers. He rose from his chair. “I’ll intercept it.”

Albus nodded his assent. Severus froze the messenger in place in the Entrance Hall and stalked out to join it. The enormous silvery werewolf spoke up as he approached it, Tonks’ high-pitched voice sounding incongruous emanating from that fearsome muzzle.

“Wotcher!” it spoke. “Harry’s fine. I’m taking him up to the castle. You’ll need to come down to the gate and let him in.”

The Patronus winked out of existence. Severus moved back to the doorway and saw Albus raise his hands in greeting. The Great Hall fell silent. For a moment, the Headmaster’s piercing blue eyes met Severus’s, and Severus nodded curtly. The blue eyes twinkled and Albus smiled broadly as he turned away to welcome the students back.

It would take quite some time still before Potter arrived – the Patronus would have traveled far faster than Potter and Tonks could on foot. A part of him wanted to go straight outside and meet the pair halfway, on the road to Hogwarts, despite the likelihood the Auror did indeed have the situation well in hand. He was not entirely at ease with the idea of Tonks as Potter’s only defense, especially without knowing the reason for Potter’s tardiness. Though her message did suggest nothing sinister had occured…he was doubtless overreacting to a boneheaded stunt of Potter’s. He would just walk down to the gate and wait there.

Though standing and waiting and worrying did not appeal either. Instead, Severus turned and went back to his quarters in the dungeon to fetch a traveling cloak. He made a detour to Filch’s office upon returning to the ground floor. It would be an opportunity to see how well the new security procedures were working while he waited for Potter if the caretaker was in. He knocked, and Filch opened the door.

“Professor Snape!” he exclaimed, surprised. “You’re not at the feast.”

“I was hoping to find you here, Mr. Filch. I just stopped by to see how the new security check went,” Severus explained.

“I was just putting away the Secrecy Sensor,” Mr. Filch exclaimed proudly, and pointed to a shelf of assorted Dark Magic detecting gadgets the school had purchased for his use over the summer. “They found a few things, they did, I’ll be reporting the little brats,” he said with a cackle. “Take a look for yourself.”

Severus’s eyes narrowed as he approached an array of objects on Mr. Filch’s desk, each tagged with the name of the student from whom it had been taken. A quick survey of the contents revealed nothing of interest to a high-level practitioner of the Dark Arts, and failed to turn up Malfoy’s name as well. Good, the boy was showing some basic common sense so far…

What Crabbe had planned to do with a shrunken head, Severus did not care to guess. Any use for such an item with which Severus was familiar seemed far beyond Crabbe’s meager skills. Probably it was his idea of appropriate room décor. Asteria Greengrass’s contribution to the collection, Severus decided with a sneer, had been smuggled in for its purported uses in beauty charms. An idea he was sure he could find ways to discourage.

“Well done. I shall be sure to speak with Mr. Crabbe and Miss Greengrass,” he said. "Might I borrow a lantern?”

“Certainly, Professor. What for?” Filch asked.

“A student is coming late to the castle. I shall have to let him in,” Severus explained.

“I should come along with my Secrecy Sensor!” Filch exclaimed, as he reached into the closet for a lantern.

“I’m quite able to handle the matter myself,” Severus replied as he stepped back out the door. “Thank you.”

When he returned to the Entrance Hall, he saw the feast was well under way. He strode out the great oak doors and down the stone steps of the castle. The great iron gates were not visible in the gathering dark, but he presumed based on the message that Tonks and Potter waited for him there. As he got closer, he saw Tonks, her hair the same mousy brown as at the Order meeting over the summer, her face serious, standing alone outside the gate. With a pang, Severus saw that Potter was no longer with her. The mystery of Potter’s continued absence was solved moments later as the boy pulled off his Invisibility Cloak, to glare at him in undisguised loathing.

“Well, well, well,” said Severus, relieved to see him there and apparently, as Tonks had reported, unharmed. He drew his wand and tapped the padlock once. Obedient to his unspoken command, the chains snaked away, and the gates opened with a loud screech.

“Nice of you to turn up, Potter,” Severus continued sardonically, “although you have evidently decided that the wearing of school robes would detract from your appearance.”

“I couldn’t change. I didn’t have my –” Potter began, but Severus interrupted him.

“There is no need to wait, Nymphadora. Potter is quite – ah – safe in my hands.”

“I meant Hagrid to get the message,” she replied, frowning at him.

Severus curled his lip at that. Albus gave the Welcoming speech every year; while Minerva oversaw the Sorting and Hagrid could usually be counted on to bring in the first-years. But of course, she would not contact him, the only Order member at the school free from any official duties that night. He wondered what Lupin had told her about him.

“Hagrid was late for the start-of-term feast, just like Potter here, so I took it instead,” Severus said, answering her unspoken question, as he took a step back to allow Potter to pass through the entrance. “And incidentally, I was interested to see your new Patronus,” he added as the boy swept past him.

Severus closed the gates behind Potter and tapped on the chains with his wand. They slid noisily back into place, again securing the gates against intruders.

“I think you were better off with the old one,” he added. “The new one looks weak.”

As Severus turned to go back to the castle, Potter called back to Tonks over his shoulder.

“Good night! Thanks for…everything.”

“See you, Harry,” she replied.

Severus walked back up towards the castle with Potter beside him. The boy’s hostility was unmistakable. He stared sullenly and fixedly down at the ground as he trudged up the path, not even seeming to acknowledge Severus once he spoke.

“Fifty points from Gryffindor for lateness, I think,” Severus said finally. “And, let me see, another twenty for your Muggle attire. You know, I don’t believe any House has been in negative figures this early in the term: we haven’t even started pudding. You might have set a record, Potter.”

When Potter still did not respond, Severus continued, “I suppose you wanted to make an entrance, did you? And with no flying car, you decided that bursting into the Great Hall halfway through the feast ought to create a dramatic effect.”

They reached the front steps, and Snape caused the doors to swing open. Once they stepped inside, Severus stopped and faced Potter. He saw, with a shock he did not permit to show on his face, that the boy’s face was stained with blood. What was Potter playing at, now? He could see that the blood was dry, and Tonks had said he was fine. But of course, Potter would take any opportunity to play the hero…

“No cloak,” he said. “You can walk in so that everyone sees you, which is what you wanted, I’m sure.”

Potter turned on the spot without a word and marched proudly towards the Gryffindor table at the opposite side of the Great Hall. Severus watched his straight back for a moment, then, with all eyes drawn to Potter, made his own way back to his seat at the staff table.

Author’s Note: Thanks to anyone who has come back to read this chapter! I do hope to continue this story further, and apologize for the protracted intermission and probably sporadic future posting of it. As always, I am most grateful for any feedback you may care to give!