Severus blinked hard, lifting his head slowly. Ouch. Of all the things I do not need right now… He stood and rolled his shoulders, trying to work the stiffness out of his neck, caused by falling asleep on his desk in the classroom. Fortunately after the students had left. Last night had been a long night…the last several nights had been long nights, actually. If it wasn’t the Dark Lord demanding his presence—or his potions—it was the Order wanting more names, more descriptions, more details…If I didn’t know better, I’d swear they enjoyed my presence. Today he’d cut most of his classes short, giving pop quizzes after a short lecture in each and threatening them with ‘the most complicated potions of the year’—not that that would take much even at the end of the year, never mind two weeks into classes—in their next period with him. Unfortunately, he’d forgotten that he would actually need to grade said quizzes at some point. He’d made a valiant attempt at starting, but had fallen asleep after only two. They will survive an extra day without their grades, he decided, exiting the room after a glance ensured he’d returned all potion ingredients to their rightful places.

“Severus, you’re going the wrong way,” and entirely too-cheerful voice called. “You’re going to miss dinner.”

He turned—too quickly, judging by the pain shooting down his back from his still-stiff neck—to face the Herbology teacher. “I’ll be taking my meal in my rooms tonight, thank you.”

“But we’re having roast,” she objected.

“I imagine I will survive the disappointment. Good evening.” He turned with a swirl of his robes, and then turned back sharply. “What exactly were you doing down here in the dungeons, anyway?”

“This is the only place in the castle Chaduceis Mold grows well,” she answered, holding up a jug of blue-brown sludge. “It’s a shame, really, it has such potential…. Good evening, Severus.”

He stared after her a moment, and then shook his head and went to his chambers. There was muscle relaxant in the cabinet…it helped to relieve the effects of several of the Dark Lord’s preferred curses and would work as well for his sore shoulders and neck. A snap brought a house elf with portions of the meal that was being served in the Great Hall, and with some effort he managed to consume the majority of it. He didn’t need the effects of malnutrition on top of sleep deprivation. A rub of his arm as he moved into his inner chambers confirmed that the Dark Lord was quiescent this night, or at least involved in activities he knew his potions master would not be interested in, and as for the Order—They can damn well theorize on their own, for once, he decided. He didn’t have anything new to warn them about, and he could confirm or deny their current suspicions at some later date. This night, he was going to sleep.

Of course, as soon as he made that decision, he found himself unable to attain the blessed state of unconsciousness. I manage to fall asleep in a wooden chair with my head on a pile of parchment, he thought in annoyance. Yet in my own, comfortable quarters, in my most comfortable bed, all I am able to do is lie in silence counting the imperfections in the ceiling stones. He rose to his feet and went back into the main room. The students’ quizzes had been left back in the classroom and he had no desire to retrieve them, but there were several books he’d purchased that he’d not yet found time to peruse…“And what is this? Andemata’s Theories…”

He recognized the book then—it was the one Potter had been carrying in the library when he’d run into Micah a week and some ago. He’d brought it back to his quarters but hadn’t had time to even open the cover. I suppose this is as good a choice as any, although who can tell what the little idiot considers decent reading material…I have a hard time believing he reads at all, outside of what the Granger brat forces him to do before she completes his assignments for him. Perhaps Potter had simply been down in the library fetching something she wanted. He hadn’t considered the possibility at the time, but it seemed more likely than Potter choosing to study on his own. If Granger had selected it, then perhaps…. He settled himself on the couch and opened the tome. And nearly dropped it in surprise as he read the introduction. A Parselmouth wrote this?

Three hours later he closed the cover and glanced up at the clock. “So much for my early night.” Still, it had made for interesting reading…the language was rather archaic, since it had been written by one of the grandnephews of Salazar Slytherin himself, but he hadn’t realized for instance, that a Parselmouth couldn’t hear the difference between Parseltongue and their own native language. But then…Potter hadn’t seemed to understand that he’d done anything particularly unusual when he’d spoken to the snake on the dueling platform back in second year, and while he’d only observed the Dark Lord speaking to Nagini a handful of times, it had never seemed to take him any particular effort or concentration. Perhaps…. He shook himself out of his reverie and stood, putting on his outer robes and tucking the book inside. If the brat wishes to learn more about his ability, there is no reason to discourage him. There was certainly no one else in the Wizarding World who could teach him.

The library was only a short trip away, and as it was nearly curfew the few students who had been studying were on their way out as he entered. He put the book back in its place, assuming that Potter would find it again if he was truly interested. He replaced a few other books that had been left out—perhaps a hex on students who could not manage to reshelve the things themselves would not be out of line—and then left the library for his dungeons.

“Let go of me!”

The childish yell distracted him, and he turned down the side corridor to see several children in red and gold robes pushing a smaller one in green and silver around. He opened his mouth to interrupt their fun.

“What the bloody hell do you think you’re doing!”

Severus shut his mouth with a snap. The words had been nearly his own, but the voice…hadn’t been. He stared in surprise as another Gryffindor—a fifth year he most definitely recognized—yanked the biggest of the other Gryffindors off his victim and tugged the smaller boy behind him, out of their reach. And now I know I need more sleep…I’m obviously dreaming.

“What’s going on?” Potter demanded again.

“He hexed my little brother in History of Magic!” one of the younger Gryffindors replied indignantly.

“Turned his hair green, right?” Potter responded. “And Bailey fought back by made his boots stick to the ground so he tripped when he tried to walk? And Professor McGonagall turned them both back to normal in about ten seconds?”

“Well…yeah. But we lost five points because of him!”

“And Slytherin lost ten for starting it! You’re a second year—you all are! What are you thinking, going after a first year half your size in the halls? Especially over something that was already dealt with—by both your brother and our head of house!”

“But he’s Slytherin,” one of the others protested.

“I wouldn’t care if he was Malfoy’s kid brother, only cowards fight four-on-one against someone half their size! Did he even know you were there, or did you jump him from behind?”

The two Gryffindors he could see looked indignant at that question, Snape noted absently, but the indignance was more than muted by the shame in their faces. Apparently the coward comment had struck home. I’ll have to remember that for the future.

Potter shook his head. “Go back to the common rooms.”

“Are you going to tell one of the professors?”

“I don’t know yet.”

“But we’ll lose points,” one of the two with his back to Snape protested.

“I don’t care if you are in my house, you should lose points for that!” Green eyes flashed, and the boys apparently decided they should make their retreat while they could.

Severus held himself in the shadows as the four second-years passed, but their eyes were fixed firmly on the ground in front of their feet. His attention returned to Potter and the little Slytherin at a quiet voice.

“Hey.” Potter knelt, facing the little boy. The child’s robes were torn down one side, and his lip was bleeding. “Micah? It is you, isn’t it?”

“Y-yeah.”

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah.”

“Are you sure? Come on, why don’t we go down to the infirmary and let Madame Pomfrey check you over?”

“No, I’m okay, really. I just want to g-go back to my rooms.”

Potter sighed. “Can you tell me what happened, first?”

“They already told you.”

“They told me their side, but I want to know yours.”

A Gryffindor is asking a Slytherin for his side of a story? That Gryffindor? Obviously I’m not dreaming, I’m hallucinating.

Micah shrugged. “Pendleton—not the big one, his little brother—was throwing things and making fun of me in History of Magic today. I guess I got kind of mad at him, so I made his hair turn green. I wanted to make it dark green like my robes, but I guess I was a little upset and it came out really, really bright. Everyone laughed, but since he wasn’t hurt or anything, Professor Binns kept talking.”

Binns probably hadn’t noticed anything was wrong, Severus thought idly. Short of transfiguring one of the children in the class into one of the goblins he was so fond of discussing, he doubted the ghost would notice anything going on in that classroom. He certainly didn’t when I was a student.

“When did he stick your boots to the floor?”

“When I got up to leave. But Professor McGonagall was passing by, and she heard the others laughing, and then she saw his hair and….” He shrugged. “She fixed us both and took points. And then I thought everything was done, until the big one grabbed me and shoved me into the wall a couple minutes ago. And then his friends were there—I tried to fight back, really!”

“Trust me, my cousin and his friends used to gang up on me all the time, and three or four on one—especially when they’re all twice your size—is never good odds.”

“Guess not.”

“Where did the bloody nose come from?”

“They were just pushing me around, not really hitting me, but I think I got whacked with an elbow. And then I tripped on my robes...that’s how they got torn.”

“Bet I can do something about that.” Potter pulled out his wand, and a moment later the stitching mended itself.

“Neat! Where did you learn that that?”

Potter shrugged, putting away his wand. “From a friend of mine. I’ve gotten my clothes messed up a couple times, and she got sick of fixing them for me. It’s pretty useful…you think you will remember the incantation so you can try it yourself?”

“I’ll remember. I can even teach Lily—I don’t think she knows that one yet.”

“So you two are talking again? I hadn’t heard anything from you in the last couple weeks and I wasn’t sure.”

“Yeah, we’re okay again. And she says Professor Snape is being a little better. I…you’re that Harry, aren’t you? Harry Potter?”

“Guilty as charged.”

What?

“What?”

“Sorry, it’s another muggle saying. Yeah, I’m Harry Potter.” He pushed his bangs off his forehead to reveal the scar. “Is that why you haven’t wanted to meet up with me again?”

“I…some of the other Slytherins say stuff about you, sometimes.”

Some of the Slytherins say rather a lot about him, Severus thought. Of which I believe the kindest thing that has ever been said was that he is an acceptable seeker for the Gryffindor team. And they wouldn’t have said that much if he hadn’t beat the best they had for the last three years.

“Imagine they do. Some of it’s probably even true, although maybe not all of it. A couple of them don’t like me very much. I don’t really like them either.”

“But you like me?”

“Yeah, sure I like you. Why wouldn’t I?”

Micah shrugged. “I…I guess I don’t know. They just said you wouldn’t. Maybe…do you maybe want to go flying tonight? I have a broom checked out from the school.”

“Sure. And…” he cast tempus quickly. “We have about two minutes to curfew. If you want, you could run by Ravenclaw and see if your cousin would like to sneak out and join us.”

“That would be great!”

“All right. We’ll meet on the Quidditch pitch in…an hour? But I have a question first. Do you think I should tell one of the professors what those boys did to you tonight?”

Micah bit his lip and then shook his head. “I don’t want you to lose points too. And they didn’t really hurt me that bad.”

“All right, but if they mess with you again you tell someone, okay? Like I said, I don’t care if they are in my house, they should never have gone after you like that.” He glanced around the corridor. “We’d better get moving if we don’t want to get detention. Make sure no one overhears you when you talk to your cousin.”

“I’ll be careful. See you in an hour.”

So now the brat is corrupting my children, Severus thought as he shook himself back to the present. Encouraging them to join him in his rule-breaking. But the thought wasn’t as acidic as it would have been, previously. As acidic as it should have been, really—he was obviously overtired. And now, thanks to Potter, I’m not going to have another late night. Because he certainly wasn’t going to let three students go flying around in the dark without some supervi—What am I thinking? Supervision? I’m going to go out there, catch them, punish them, and be asleep ten minutes after! With a shake of his head, he turned and went the opposite direction to retrieve the quizzes the students had completed earlier. There was no point in wasting the next hour.

At the appropriate time, he left the quizzes he was grading—dismal, as usual—and went to retrieve his broom. He hadn’t had a chance to fly, lately, although contrary to the beliefs of the majority of the students he certainly could. Do they think I’m the reserve Quidditch referee for nothing? It had been a long time since he’d played the game himself—his sixth year at Hogwarts, actually—but he still enjoyed being on his broom. He circled the pitch wide before actually approaching, coming in behind the stands so the three children circling wouldn’t see him. The two smaller figures were circling the larger, obviously trying to keep up with the patterns he was making.

“Catch him, Lily!” One of the figures peeled aside, going higher to watch the other two, and they obligingly picked up speed. “Go!”

They circled and dove—the little girl was small enough that even a school broom could fly as though it didn’t have a passenger—until Potter finally pulled away with a steep curve she couldn’t match. All three were laughing, and in the light from the moon and the shadows from the waving banners Severus saw another Potter and another Lily and one of the boys who were always with them. The slight tolerance Potter’s behavior earlier might have earned him vanished immediately. “What do you three think you are doing out here after curfew?” His voice cut across the pitch, and all three wheeled abruptly to face him, the younger boy nearly losing his grip as he did so. It only increased Severus’ anger.

“P-professor Snape?”

“Yes, Potter, who else would be out here at this unreasonable hour of the night attempting to retrieve three brats who obviously have no understanding of rules or regulations? And that was a rhetorical question, no need to strain your minds attempting to puzzle out the answer. You two, fifty points from each of your houses for being out after curfew, a week’s detention, and you will both lose the use of school brooms until holiday break at the very least. Get back inside.” Both eleven-year olds were staring at him wide-eyed, and there were hints of tears in the girl’s eyes as she hovered just behind Potter’s shoulder. Donovan opened his mouth to speak, and Severus cut him off with a glare. “You and I will be having another talk tomorrow; I suggest you not try my patience anymore. Get. Back. To. Your. Rooms. Now!” Both children started, looking worriedly at Potter, but he shook his head quickly, nodding for them to go on. As soon as he saw them land on the top of the Astronomy tower, he turned back to the Gryffindor. “And as for you—”

“Professor, this was all my idea…it’s all my fault, you shouldn’t be so hard on them.”

“While I have no doubt the blame for this entire fiasco can be laid directly on your shoulders, it is not your place to tell me what I should or should not do. Rest assured, your punishment will be considerably worse than theirs.” He took a breath, assembling his thoughts into a coherent rant. “Aside from encouraging first year students barely a month into their time here to flaunt school rules—I’m well aware that it is a frequent habit of yours, but I fail to see why you are determined to inflict your habits on other students—they were granted privileges with school brooms less than a week ago. Did it ever enter that tiny brain of yours just why students are so carefully supervised with brooms when they first come to Hogwarts? Or did you think Longbottom’s little tumble your first year was some sort of fluke? And taking them out in the middle of the night, in the dark, is hardly going to improve their flying abilities!”

“They’d both flown before, Professor, they learned at h—”

“Silence! I’m not sure what I detest worse, your absolute disregard for authority or the sheer arrogance you insist on displaying for the entire world to see!”

Spots rose on the boy’s cheeks. “All we did was play follow the leader! And we wouldn’t have had to do it in secret if I wasn’t afraid you’d be nasty to Micah just because he doesn’t hate my guts like every other Slytherin! You already went after Lily just bec—”

“You will be silent!” Severus roared, cutting off his rant. “You are in enough tr—”

A shriek from the Forbidden Forest drowned out even his words, and both wheeled sharply on their brooms. “What was that?”

Severus ignored the question. Something about that scream had sounded…wrong, even for the forest. Centaurs don’t make that noise, nor spiders, nor…. “A hundred points from Gryffindor, and detention with me tomorrow. I’ll give you the rest of your punishment then. Now go back to your room.”

“But Pro—”

“Do you want to make it a hundred and fifty? I’m sure your little friends are going to be unhappy enough with you tomorrow as it is.” Potter didn’t make another sound, turning his broom to head back to the tower. Severus turned his broom in the direction of the scream, flying just above treetop level. High enough to avoid the predators, and low enough to duck into the trees should anything fly above him. He could feel magic building, a bit to his left, and he adjusted course to meet it. The only thing in the forest that I can think of that can make that sound…. He came to a halt above a clearing. “Oh, no.” A unicorn lay below, eviscerated, and he forced his broom to land beside it. It didn’t want to; the magic blanketing the area was as dark as Severus had ever felt. The creature’s eyes were missing, its horn, most of its major organs...and the ground was dry—free of blood. A collecting spell…a clumsy version, but that’s the only way whoever killed it could have taken everything before I got here. There were many potent potions that could be made from unicorn blood and hair—he had invented several of them—but that was always willingly given. What someone could do with the major organs or that much blood didn’t bear thinking about.

“Professor? What—what happened?” A figure touched down beside his broom.

“Potter? Did I not just tell you to go back to your room?”

“I—well—I could feel power here. Dark powers, and…”

“And you thought it would be a good idea to investigate yourself. Brilliant, Mr. Potter. I don’t suppose you bothered to inform anyone where you would be going? I assume not; if you had told a teacher they would have prevented you from coming, and if you had told your little friends they would be here as well.”

“Well, you didn’t tell anyone where you are going!”

“I am a grown wizard, Mr. Potter, and what I do or do not do is my own concern. I have had it with your disobedience. When we get back to Hogwarts—” His words were suddenly drowned out by a roar, and then he felt himself falling. It was ten times, a hundred times worse than any portkey, and he saw the ground coming up fast. He didn’t have time to contemplate just how bad the landing was going to be before he hit.