“Hello, Professor.”

“Harry. You’re looking uncharacteristically depressed.” Especially considering that after a week in the infirmary—at which point Poppy had released her on the grounds that the sanity of the school mediwitch had to take precedence over that of the High Inquisitor—Umbridge had slunk back to the Ministry. She hadn’t been seen or heard from since, to no one’s great disappointment, nor had Fudge had a great deal to say on the subject. While he’d managed to more-or-less silence the Daily Prophet, the rest of the papers had more than made up for it, as had the reports sent out by the students. If the rumors of the waves of Howlers that had been reaching the Ministry were even marginally true, it wouldn’t take much to permanently destroy any credibility that he’d ever had. Which, when you consider who and what they’ve tolerated in teaching positions here, is saying something about just how badly he mucked this up.

Harry shrugged. “It’s nothing.”

“The sort of nothing that happens when the Headmaster calls you in for long discussions about fate and prophecies?” Although Severus wasn’t sure he wanted to know if it was—he wasn’t particularly interested in a repeat of that conversation.

“Huh? Oh, no, nothing like that.” He seemed to consider for a moment and then glanced up at Severus. “Maybe you know. What are you supposed to get a girl you like for Christmas?”

Severus had a sudden moment of empathy for Fudge—and wasn’t that an odd feeling—as his mouth opened and closed but he wasn’t actually able to form a coherent thought. Of all the subjects that he might have expected to come up, that hadn’t been one of them. Not even remotely. “I beg your pardon?”

“Well….” Harry had turned red. “I mean, I know that I want to get her something, but I don’t know what, and….” He trailed off with a shrug.

“I suggest that you ask your little friends for advice.” As opposed to bringing this sort of nonsense with you to Occlumency lessons and a professor who hasn’t been a teenager for nearly two decades.

“I tried that, but Ron’s moaning over Quidditch and getting annoyed about Hermione getting owls from Krum—you remember him, the Durmstrag competitor last year?—and didn’t even try to come up with anything. And when I asked Hermione to pick out something for me to give to her when she went to Hogsmeade this weekend she called me an insensitive wart.”

“Yes, well, I believe the point of getting someone a gift —particularly a, um, special someone—is for you to select something that they would enjoy. Having someone else do the selecting for you does tend to negate some of the meaning.” Or so I’ve heard.

Harry made a face. “Bloody silly if you ask me as long as she gets something she’d like. Anyway….” He looked up hopefully.

“Mr. Potter, it may have escaped your attention, but I am quite single.”

“Well, it’s not like I want to marry her!”

“Perfectly sensible, of course, but perhaps not the tone to take with the young lady.” He smiled at the boy’s expression. “I confess that I did not do a great deal of ‘dating’ in my younger years. This might be a subject on which you should consult with your Godfather.” And there’s something I never thought I’d say, but the mutt might as well make himself useful for something. He certainly never lacked for company in his time at Hogwarts. Merlin knows what any of his companions were thinking, but….

“I can’t. The last time he floo’d, he said he wouldn’t be able to talk to me again for awhile, probably not until Easter at the earliest. Something about long-distance flooing leaving too many traces and it being too far for an owl to cover safely.”

Perfectly true, unfortunately. Although…. “I don’t suppose this last conversation was the one in which he hinted to you about the prophecy?”

“Yeah. Well, not the prophecy, but that there was something going on that I was involved in. I mean, it was pretty easy to see that there was, but still.”

Brilliant, Black, give the boy just enough knowledge to give him fits and then disappear without even trying to resolve the situation. I suppose I should have expected something of the sort. And not only that, I’mnow the one being asked for romantic advice by a fifteen year old. “I take it the werewolf went with him?”

The boy glared at him for the designation but nodded in agreement.

“Unfortunate. He might have been of some use to you in this situation as well. What about one of your other little friends? You certainly have plenty of them.”

“I can’t ask the twins—they’d be ridiculous about it; I’d never get a moment’s peace afterwards—and Ginny is kind of….” He shrugged. “She gets weird. Neville didn’t have any ideas, and I thought about asking Luna, but….”

“Perhaps Lovegood would not be the person to ask,” Severus agreed. Not if you want a reasonable response, anyway.

“I just need an idea, Professor—anything! It’s not like I can go down to Hogsmeade and go looking for myself right now, and if I can’t come up with something before Saturday morning I won’t be able to tell Hermione what to get and I won’t have anything to give her.”

Tragic. He sighed. “Well, what does the young Miss Chang like to do? It is Miss Chang you’d like to find a gift for, correct?” He assumed it was, but teenagers were known to shift their attentions about rather quickly.

Harry nodded. “Well…she’s the Ravenclaw seeker, so she likes Quidditch.”

Severus sighed again. “What does she like besides the completely obvious?”

“Swans?”

Why are you asking me? “I don’t know, does she?”

“I think so. I mean, I guess so. Her Patronus is a swan.”

Concrete evidence that the boy is, in fact, a dunce. Even I was never that oblivious. At least he didn’t think so; it had been a few years since his fifteenth birthday. He wondered for a moment just when the girl had learned the Patronus charm—and how Harry might have known about it—and then dismissed the situation as not his immediate problem. Not actually his problem at all since she wasn’t in his house and wouldn’t be demonstrating the skill in any class that he taught. “Well, might I suggest that you hold an actual conversation with Miss Chang during which you attempt to discover what she does and does not like? I daresay you’d be in a much better situation to select a thoughtful present than you are now.” You could hardly be in a worse one. Harry’s flush darkened even more, and he rolled his eyes. “Barring that, there’s always chocolate, of course.”

“Chocolate.” Harry brightened. “That’s a good idea. Everybody likes chocolate.”

She’s probably allergic. “Shall we begin, then?”

Occlumency practice had become considerably less hard on Severus—physically speaking, at least—since the incident with the skull fracture. It had frightened Harry far more than it had him, and the boy had managed a surprising amount of control since. Not that he had any conscious control over what he was doing, still, but at least it was something. He’d been considerably more hesitant about his blocks at first as well, but after a few snarls from Severus they seemed to have reached a happy medium.

They went back and forth for the full hour before Severus decided that that was enough for one night. Though if the brat was going to surprise him with questions like he had earlier, Severus was bloody well going to get his own question answered s well. “You know, Harry, I realized shortly after the incident with Umbridge that while neither Nifflers nor Doxies hiss, snakes do. And as I recall you brought several of them into my quarters not so long ago…I don’t suppose you know anything about these ‘spies’ that she seemed to think had been following her around?”

“Who’d want to spy on her?” Harry said, making a face.

“Mr. Potter….”

His mouth twitched. “Really, Professor, they weren’t spying. Snakes wouldn’t make very good spies, they don’t care about the same kinds of things people do. But it’s warm in here and cold out there, and all I had to do was promise them a warm place to spend the winter in….” He stopped trying to fight his grin. “There were a lot of places for them to hide in her office and her rooms—she’s never saw them hiding between the stones—and Ssslsss found out a couple days before Fudge’s visit that she could hide in the collar of Umbridge’s sweater under her hair. I guess the mess with the basilisk made Mrs. Norris afraid of snakes because she left them alone the whole time.”

Severus assumed that the hissing sound Harry had made was some sort of name and didn’t comment, although it was decidedly odd to hear that sort of sound coming from a wizard. “How many of them are there, precisely?”

“Four. Well, I don’t think Sssdnn ever left the box in my room—he’s pretty old—but the other three took turns following her around. They thought it was great fun.”

“Wonderful.” Part of him was impressed with the little prank, but the rest of him was…uneasy…at the idea of random creatures sneaking about in the castle. Particularly snakes. Granted Harry’s new pets weren’t exactly menaces on the scale of the basilisk, but the Dark Lord could speak to them just as easily as his student and wouldn’t hesitate to use any knowledge he could get to his advantage. Harry might not think that the things were seeing much, but who knew. “And how long do they plan to stay?”

“I promised they could stay the winter, but they’ve been hibernating in the box under my bed since she left so I don’t think it really counts.” He shrugged. “Normally they’d have gone into hibernation earlier, but I kind of woke them up.”

“Yes, well, you should just let them rest now, I think.” And seal that box, just to be on the safe side. “What kind of snakes are they?” He hadn’t thought that the one that had fallen out of Harry’s pocket looked particularly dangerous, but there were adders to the south…. If an adder had bitten her a few months ago, it would have solved all of our problems much more easily.

“Just grass snakes. They live down by the pond most of the time.”

“Ah.” He nodded towards the door slightly. “I suppose you can go on then. Don’t forget to practice before our next session.”

“Yes, sir.”

///////////

Severus gave the cauldron a final stir, ignoring the ache in his good arm as he did so. A vicious cold snap had set in this past weekend—after the students got back from Hogsmeade so he hadn’t even had the amusement of watching the more idiotic ones forming a frostbitten line in front of the infirmary—and with it had come aches in bones that he’d never had problems with before. Then again, the majority of them hadn’t been quite so badly broken and pieced back together before. It was…irritating. Still, it was nothing that he couldn’t handle, particularly since he was finally capable of brewing his own pain-relievers again. Not that that was what he was working on now, but….

He checked the potion in the cauldron in front of him as he swung it off the heat. The color would fade away as it cooled, and there was no odor either…. Perfect. He glanced down at the clamp attached to the stump of his arm and gave a half smile. He wasn’t quite as far along as he might have hoped in terms of dexterity, for example he still dropped perhaps one in five of those bloody marbles when he was doing his exercises, but by the time classes resumed after the winter holidays he thought he’d be comfortable enough to start working with the basilisk ingredients. Of course, he’d be resuming his teaching duties then as well—Slughorn had started making noises about going on some beach vacation as soon as the snow had started to fall—but with his Head-of-House duties removed he would still have some free time. Now that I’m no longer spying, I’ll probably have more time than I know what to do with.

There was a loud bang at his door, overriding the chime that indicated a professor was visiting, and he shook his head and called out to his visitor to enter. Hagrid had been up at the castle a great deal more since the fiasco at dinner had put an abrupt end to Umbridge’s career at Hogwarts. Severus frowned at his stores. Grawp—Hagrid’s giant-friend—had caught a bit of a bug and had kept the half-giant busy taking care of him these past few days…Hagrid probably needed another potion for chest congestion. It was giving Severus plenty of practice with this new arm, at least, although if it kept up much longer he was going to have to replace his oversized cauldrons. With a shake of his head, he began to transfer the potions he’d just finished into the waiting vials, stoppering each as it was filled. Hagrid never minded waiting in the sitting room until Severus could join him.

“And just who are you making that for?” a rough voice growled.

Severus spun, nearly spilling the remaining Veritaserum all over the floor as he snatched at his wand, and Alastor smirked.

“Constant vigilance, boy.”

“You’ll have to forgive me, I was under the impression that the civilized custom of knocking had spread throughout the Wizarding world.” How someone with a false leg and a bloody crutch can move that quietly is utterly beyond my understanding. “Normally the only professor who beats on my door when he wants entrance is Hagrid, and for him that is a knock.”

Alastor just nodded towards the cauldron.

“Proof that I could do it, more than anything else.” He wanted to evict the Auror from his workroom—he’d left the door open in case he had another fumes incident and the man had simply walked in—but if he voiced that thought Alastor would never leave. “I take it you’re here for some purpose?” Aside from annoying me?

Alastor ignored him, unstoppering one of the bottles. He studied the potion for a moment and then sniffed carefully. “Looks about right.”

“Should be right. Care to have a sip?” Severus neither needed nor expected an answer to that, and he took that vial and the two still sitting on the counter and put them in the appropriate place in his storage cabinet before deliberately turning his back on the ex-Auror and pouring the last of the Veritaserum out of the cauldron and into a fourth. He’d move them all to the storeroom after they’d fully cooled. “Again, just why are you visiting? I’m assuming it wasn’t purely for the fun of harassing me, although I suppose now that there’s no Umbridge to chase about you’re probably finding yourself with far too much time on your hands. Might I suggest a hobby?”

“Have one—catching Dark wizards.”

“And let me guess, your idea of a relaxing evening is one spent by the fire with a whiskey and a foe glass.” Not that I have any business making comments at this point considering how I’ve been spending my evenings, but if he’s here to annoy me I’ll damn well return the favor.

“I want a duel.”

That was a bit out of proportion for the insult he’d just given, and Severus ceased his wipe-down of the counter and turned to face him. “Well, I would like an all-expenses paid trip to somewhere—anywhere—warm, Minerva insists on hoping for world peace, and I’m sure our friendly local ex-Inquisitor wants us all consigned to Azkaban just on general principle, so I’m afraid it’s going to be a disappointing holiday all around.”

Alastor snorted. “I’m not talking about to the death, boy, but from what I can tell the last duel any of these children saw was a good three years back between you and that ninny, Lockhart. If that could even be called a duel.”

“It was once described as brilliant,” Severus pointed out as he gestured for the older man to precede him into the sitting room and wondered just why the man wanted the students to see a duel. They do enough of it themselves in the halls between classes.

“Brilliant.” Alastor’s voice was decidedly disbelieving, although at least he was moving out of Severus workroom. “And you were a Deatheater for how long?”

Huh. It’s ‘were’ now? That’s an improvement, at least. “I believe the brilliant part was when he went flying off the platform without getting a single spell off.” After bragging about his abilities ad nauseam.

“Ah.” Alastor looked a bit more satisfied at that, dropping down on the couch. Without an invitation, but if he’d actually waited for one Severus would probably have died of shock. “Potter and his crowd have started up some sort of secret club…not too sure on the details, but I’d like them to have some idea of what they’ll be facing if they’re idiotic enough to get themselves into a fight with any of Voldemort’s lot.”

Ah. And would this be some sort of private club where they learn Patronuses, perhaps? Severus took the chair and debated for a moment. He’d never gotten around to asking Harry just where he’d seen Chang’s swan, and after the mess with Carmichael Harry had mentioned that he and his friends had been teaching themselves spells to get around the fact that they’d been learning nothing from Umbridge. Not to mention that Edgecombe had started to say something during Fudge’s visit; Umbridge had simply lost her mind before the girl had gotten more than two words out. Edgecombe had since developed some sort of skin condition that was preventing her from taking meals with the rest of the student body, and he hadn’t heard much else.

“I thought next Friday afternoon would be a good time,” Alastor continued. “They’ll be too excited about leaving on the train the next morning to pay any attention in classes anyway.”

“I believe Filius used to be a champion dueler.”

Fingers tapped on crossed arms. “If I wanted to duel Flitwick—or for that matter anyone else I expected to follow the standard dueling conventions—I wouldn’t be here speaking to you. You can duel someone who doesn’t fall down after the first blow, correct?”

Severus didn’t bother to dignify that with an answer, but it was fairly clear that Alastor wasn’t planning on taking ‘no’ for an answer. And…well, he had to admit that the experience might prove interesting. Although dueling someone who’s been hunting Dark wizards for at least as long as I’ve been alive might not be particularly conducive to my health and long life.

“You mean to tell me that you’ve never been tempted to toss a hex or two in my direction?” Alastor pressed.

Considerably more than tempted and on more than one occasion. “Somehow the thought of the pleasure it would bring me has never quite managed to outweigh the knowledge of what the likely consequences would be.” Alastor snorted, and Severus considered the idea a bit more. Poppy had said that he was as healed as he was likely to get, and this wouldn’t be a bad way to find out just what he was capable of. The ex-Auror could certainly be counted on not to go easy on him; something he wasn’t sure he could trust the rest of his colleagues about just now. They would insist on sparing his feelings which was all well and good in the short term but of no use at all if he found himself facing a Deatheater with an overestimate of his own capabilities. As to the duel itself…well, there was no doubt that he was more maneuverable than Alastor, and spending as much time as he had in the Dark Lord’s company had taught him a few unusual—not to mention downright nasty—tricks. Granted he couldn’t use the majority of them without chancing real damage, but he’d modified curses before. “Standard Wizarding duel?” That would put them far enough apart that his missing eye wouldn’t be much of a disadvantage.

“Close to, at least. No Unforgivables or permanently crippling curses; I’d say we’ve both had enough of those.”

Modified standard, then, Severus noted, although he certainly agreed with what curses were to be excluded. He specifically didn’t say no Dark curses, which makes sense if he wants the students to have some idea of what the Dark Lord’s followers are capable of. It upped Severus’ chances a bit as well, although he suspected that the other man’s repertoire was nearly as extensive as his own. Though I doubt he has the same skill at casting them. “Just for your defense classes, or…?”

“Suppose whoever wants to come might as well. I’ll set up a spell barrier.”

That was a good idea…it was a safety measure in most dueling contests that kept any stray spells from striking the audience. And kept the audience back. The last thing either of them needed was some idiot child leaning in for a better look and catching a curse in the forehead. Not that they wouldn’t deserve it, but I can just imagine Poppy’s reaction. With Lockhart a barrier had hardly been necessary—though it would have been useful when Draco had conjured that snake—but…. “You have yourself an opponent, I suppose. Who for mediator? Flitwick, perhaps?”

“I imagine that we can do without.”

A very modified Wizarding duel, then. Merlin help him, this might actually be enjoyable. “Fair enough.”

Alastor grunted, and pushed himself to his feet. “Next Friday, then.”

//////////

“Happy Christmas, Professor.”

“And here I was under the impression that the holiday did not begin for four more days,” Severus observed as Harry bounced, very nearly literally, into his quarters.

If Harry noticed the sarcasm—and Severus knew full well that that wasn’t something that you could always take for granted where Gryffindors were concerned—he gave no sign. “Did you hear about Quidditch?”

“That the ban has been lifted?” Or at least Dumbledore was ignoring all of Umbridge’s decisions, which amounted to basically the same thing. “The Weasley twins were quite...exuberant…in their celebration.” To the point of setting off another spray of fireworks in the Great Hall. This time they’d lost points. “Have you been practicing?”

“Of course, four days a week and a long practice Saturday. Ron’s actually getting really good as Keep—”

“I meant Occlumency.” Harry grinned, and Severus shook his head. “Yes, most amusing. All right, let’s have it then.”

They took up the now-familiar seats on the floor, and Severus flicked his wand without verbalizing. And promptly found himself repelled. And moved a few centimeters backwards, but he’d still take that over what had been happening.

“Are you really going to duel Professor Moody on Friday?”

“For my sins,” Severus agreed.

“Do you think you’ll win?”

“I honestly have no idea.” He rather suspected not though he hoped that he could manage a draw; as far as he knew he and Alastor were fairly evenly matched in power, but while speed was important experience did mean something in this sort of a fight. Either way he had no doubts that he could give a more than fair accounting of himself. He’d spent the last few days reviewing spells, just to make sure he had a wide selection to choose from when the time came. “However, we aren’t here to discuss my dueling tactics. Clear your mind.”

“But—” Harry gritted his teeth for a moment, and this time the shove was more pronounced. Not much, but a bit more. “But is it going to be like your duel with Lockhart, or—”

“I’m not sure whether you’re putting Professor Moody or myself in Lockhart’s place, but I can assure you that neither of us would be thrilled with the comparison.”

“I didn’t mean it like that, I meant is it going to be formal with a platform and everything, or….”

“Well, we aren’t going to start hexing each other up and down the Great Hall. Or, rather, I suppose we will, but we’ll not only be using a platform we’ll also have a shielding spell between us and those of you observing in place before it begins.” Aside from protecting the students, it would shield him from any of them who might think that this was a good time to finish what Carmichael hadn’t been able to. He certainly wouldn’t be in a position to watch them himself. “This duel should be considerably more interesting than the last you saw.”

“Wouldn’t take much. Although it was still funny.”

“Legilimens.”

This time when Harry pushed him out, he didn’t give the boy a chance to ask any more questions. “And how goes your courting of the young Miss Chang?”

Harry glared at the carpet. “Not very well.”

“She’s not a fan of chocolate?” Bright Merlin, I wonder if she actually is allergic.

“I never had a chance to give it to her. I saw her in the halls yesterday, and she must have just gone to see Marietta because was on a tear saying how H—how it wasn’t Marietta’s fault that she sold us out to Umbridge because her mother works for the Ministry, and that it wasn’t fair for her to have it written on her forehead.” He shook his head. “Except she shouldn’t have joined if she couldn’t keep a secret, that’s why the list was jinxed in the first place. Ron’s father works for the Ministry, and he managed to keep his mouth shut.”

“I assume you’re talking about whatever that little club of yours is called in which you were teaching yourself spells during Umbridge’s teaching career?” And that ‘H—’ is Miss Granger and that she has something to do with Miss Edgecombe’s skin condition. Which apparently involves some sort of writing on her forehead.

“Oh, yeah. I…you aren’t planning to tell Umbridge, right? If you even know where she is.”

Severus gave him the nastiest glare that he could manage on such short notice—and he’d had plenty of practice—and pushed past Harry’s mental barriers. He got a flash of an argument with the Chang girl, and then he was thrown right back out. “Hm. Watch your shields; you’re good enough to push me out now, but if you don’t know I’ve gotten into your mind you won’t know to get rid of me until I start rummaging around. There are circumstances in which the Dark Lord might simply be content to use your eyes.”

Harry nodded. “Yes, sir. Anyway, I guess Cho and I weren’t exactly going out in the first place, but we definitely aren’t now. We never really talked about what happened before—we were just so excited that Umbridge was gone—and I sort of thought she felt the same way as the rest of us about Marietta’s ratting. I don’t really think I want to go out with her if she can excuse that with just ‘she’s a lovely person who made a mistake.’”

Neither a Gryffindor nor a Hufflepuff would have found that to be an acceptable explanation, he suspected…Severus could see circumstances under which he would excuse someone under that pretext, but then he hadn’t been a member of one of the more idealistic houses. “You may not feel like it at this moment, but it’s probably better that you found out about this particular difference in…philosophies…now rather than later.”

“I guess.”

Oh, no, I am not dealing with a lovesick teenager. “Legilimens.” In. And then back out.

“Are you staying here for the holidays?” Harry asked, apparently putting the previous conversation aside.

“I always do. I assume you’ve been invited to join the Weasley horde?”

“Yeah. Hermione was invited too, but she’s going skiing with her parents instead. Ron thinks the whole idea is ridiculous…she had to swear to bring back pictures before he’d even believe that muggles did something like that.”

“I can understand his skepticism.”

“Anyway, it’s going to be a long trip there so I got her a new book on Numerology. She’ll probably finish it before they even get to the resort.”

“How did you manage that?”

“Had Ron get it for me. And then she got my presents for everyone else. Wish I could have just gotten them myself, but….” He shrugged.

“Yes, I know, life is just horribly tragic sometimes.” Although it had been somewhat annoying to do his own shopping entirely through the post as well…he’d made his yearly attempt to convince Albus to wear something—anything—slightly less outlandish than usual and ordered a set of picture frames. He’d gotten Devon’s name in the yearly staff gift exchange and considering that the man still hadn’t stopped bringing pictures of his niece with him to meals…. Well, it wouldn’t be quite as amusing as last year when he got to watch Minerva open the box that he’d filled with a wide selection of cat toys, but at least the frames had been easy enough to locate. And two sets of Ominoculars had arrived yesterday as well, although he wasn’t entirely certain that he’d deliver either. With a shake of his head, he pushed back into Harry’s mind.