[1/15/11]
sSsSs
The Letter
sSsSs

 

The first time Harry Potter sat in the sun with his cousin Dudley he started to scream. When his Aunt Petunia ran to see what was wrong she screamed and pulled Dudley away from him. Eventually he managed to crawl out of the sunlight, and he stared in pain at his burned flesh. His aunt took him to the hospital, grumbling the whole way.

 

Years later she explained what had happened. She sat him down and told him that he had a very rare disease called Xeroderma Pigmentosum. She explained that he would have to cover all of his skin while outside and make sure he didn’t get exposed to sunlight. She didn’t mention anything about reprimanding Dudley if he intentionally exposed Harry to sunlight. Why would she? She probably enjoyed it when that happened.

 

Harry learned to stay away from Dudley. He learned to not go outside at all. Aunt Petunia had to explain why he wore the clothes he did so his teachers knew he couldn’t be exposed to sunlight. They let him go to the library during recess and lunch, and Harry spent that time reading. He read everything, quickly outstripping his peers, though his homework didn’t reflect that.

 

As the years passed Harry picked up another skill: Running. He learned to run far and fast. When he left the school property he did so at a sprint, and he didn’t stop running until he was back at number 4 Privet Drive. Dudley, who never lost his baby fat and looked like nothing more than a human-shaped sack of lard, had trouble catching him. In fact, the only time Harry was caught was when he ran into a trap, which happened at least once every week or two. Still, he survived and he learned.

 

Don’t ask questions. That was the first rule he’d learned at the Dursleys. To that he added his own: Don’t volunteer information – ever. He perfected the application of this rule very quickly, and as time progressed he became proficient at obfuscation. That was his world, filled with lies and deception, pain and terror, and a craving for love that he’d battered so far into submission that he’d stopped feeling the twinges of pain when his aunt and uncle hugged his cousin. That was how things stood when his world changed.

 

The click of the mail slot fell through number 4 Privet Drive, followed closely by the flop of letters hitting the doormat.

 

"Get the mail Dudley," said Uncle Vernon, not even looking away from his morning paper. He tended to try to get Dudley to pick up the mail, not wanting Harry to touch such important things as bills.

 

"Make Harry get it."

 

"Get the mail, Harry."

 

"Yes, Uncle Vernon." Harry moved away from the stove, turning it off with a practiced flick of his gloved hand, and walked into the entry. It was summer so the sun was well into the sky, and he was covered head to toe, sweltering beneath Dudley’s castoff sweatshirt and tent-like pants, a scarf wrapped about his face and head leaving a slit just large enough to frame his glasses.

 

Honestly, Harry was grateful for the reprieve. Being near the stove made things even worse, and this way he got a small break before having to go back to cooking. That in mind, he crouched to grab the letters on the doormat. There were three: a postcard from Aunt Marge, a brown envelope that looked like a bill, and…

 

Harry picked up the three letters, his eyes locked on the third.

 

Mr. H. Potter
The Cupboard Under the Stairs
4 Privet Drive
Little Whinging
Surrey

 

That wouldn't do. Harry never got mail, and this letter was addressed to his cupboard. Oh no, that wouldn’t do at all.

 

Harry took a second to throw his letter into his cupboard before bringing the other two to Uncle Vernon. Acting as though nothing were wrong, Harry went back to cooking breakfast for his relatives, directing his mind firmly away from the letter laying innocently under the scrap of cloth that passed for his pillow.

 

oOoOo

 

Harry slept through the height of the summer days, tucked into his lightless cupboard where he could divest himself of the protective layers of clothing he otherwise wore when the sun was in the sky. He always used his clothes to block out the light that seeped through the cracks in the door, and made sure to cover the grate, as his cousin liked to let sunlight in while he was sleeping. Normally he went to sleep as soon as he was allowed to retreat to his cupboard, but not that day. Not when he had a letter addressed to the very cupboard he was currently locked in. Instead he opened the letter and read it by torchlight.

 

Dear Mr. Potter,

 We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.

 Term begins on September 1. We await your owl by no later than July 31.

Yours sincerely,

Minerva McGonagall,

Deputy Headmistress

 

Harry looked at the letter and then pulled out the supplies list. He scanned it, sighed, and tucked both pages into his dictionary, the one book the Dursleys didn't take from him as soon as they found it. After all, what child would read a dictionary?

 

Harry carefully ripped the envelope, taking a small piece of it, and pulled out the bottle of calligraphy ink he'd gotten from his art teacher, and the small stick of bamboo he'd turned into a quill. He had brushes, but the quill was easier, and his aunt didn't have the intelligence to realize he could write letters with ink and a brush…not that he'd had anyone to write to before this.

 

Dear Professor McGonagall,

I will require assistance. Please send someone discreet.

-Harry Potter.

 

Harry scratched his missive out, carefully and quietly. He then rolled the scrap of paper up, and hid it in his sock. If he could find an owl he'd see if it would take the letter.

 

For the first time Harry fell asleep with a strange feeling in his chest: Hope. He might have a way out of the hell that he lived in. Carried on the wings of owls: Predators of the night.

 

That night, once the sun was down and it was safe for Harry to be outside, his Aunt sent him to weed the garden. Harry was, for once, grateful to be given the chore, especially when he noticed the owl waiting on a tree branch.

 

His Aunt never bothered to supervise him anymore, so when he was sure no one was looking out the window to check on him he coaxed the owl down from the tree, and handed the tiny scroll to it.

 

"Please take this to Professor McGonagall." He whispered. The owl nibbled his finger before taking off, and Harry returned to his chores, turning his mind away from the fleeting hope he’d felt that afternoon in his cupboard. He didn’t know if the owl was anything more than a wild creature, and he did most definitely know that there was no point in hoping. Hope, after all, was for people, not freaks.

 

oOoOo

 

Vernon Dursley stared in confusion at the tall, pale, thin man in a black suit standing on his doorstep. It was after dinner and the freak was cleaning the kitchen. The sun was down so the freak wasn’t wearing anything but its shorts. It was hot, after all, being the middle of summer, and they had no air conditioning.

 

"Vernon Dursley, I presume?" The man said in a cultured voice. Vernon didn't notice the freak flinching in the other room, and even if he had he wouldn’t have cared. Actually, he rather liked when the freak flinched. It meant the thing knew its place, after all.

 

"And you are?" Vernon asked, suspicious, but not too much. After all, the man wasn't wearing freaky clothes or anything.

 

"Severus Snape. May I enter?" The question was not one, and Vernon nodded, standing back to let the man pass.

 

"Who is it dear?" Petunia called from where she was monitoring the freak

 

"A man. Severus Snape." A dish shattered.

 

Things became chaotic for a minute. Petunia started screaming something incoherent, and ran into the living room, a wooden spoon in her hand. Vernon was confused; he had no clue why his wife was acting this way. Dudley sat on the stairs, watching the scene with a smirk on his pudgy face and a mars bar in his hands, and the freak kept cleaning the kitchen.

 

"Get out of my house freak!" Petunia screamed, finally saying something comprehensible. It was, apparently, the wrong thing to say, because the next thing Vernon knew he was frozen on the couch, Petunia next to him, Dudley next to her.

 

The freak continued to clean the kitchen.

 

"Potter?" The Snape man asked the freak.

 

"Sir?" It had learned not to stop cleaning, even when spoken to, long ago.

 

"May I presume you are the one who sent the letter?" Snape asked.

 

"Yes, sir." The boy replied. Vernon was incensed. The thing had managed to send a letter to the freaks? How?

 

"Potter, look at me." Snape said. The boy did, putting his cleaning down so he wouldn't break anything.

 

For a moment nothing happened. Then the world seemed to explode. The man was angry, the freak was terrified, and Vernon wasn't sure what he was supposed to feel.

 

Then there was nothing.

 

oOoOo

 

Severus didn't know what to think when he met the muggle man.

 

He got a little worried when he saw a small, scrawny, too thin, too pale boy cleaning the kitchen in nothing but shorts, a few fading bruises on his chest and arms.

 

He got even more worried when Petunia started screaming at him.

 

He got downright suspicious when a Potter called him sir.

 

He skimmed the boy's mind.

 

Xenoderma Pigmentosum. Big words for a small child's mind. The cupboard under the stairs. The big words were a muggle disease that meant you couldn't be in the sun. Harry, in the sun, getting burned…quickly…too quickly. Well, that's where that came from. Severus wondered why that was the closest to the surface of Potter's mind. He dug deeper.

 

"Freak!" "Boy!" The Dudley-boy and his gang chasing a heavily clothed Harry again and again. A dog named 'Ripper'. Hand-me-downs. It didn't look like the boy was beaten, much. Sitting in his cupboard, stomach rumbling, listening to the Dursleys eat. Coming out to clean up after them, but not allowed a bite of his own. That had been that night. How many nights? Too many nights.

 

He saw more. More he didn't want to think about. The boy couldn't stay.

 

"Get your things." He said, broking no argument. He would have to move quickly to get the boy proper clothing before the sun rose.

 

The boy complied with nary a sound. That should not have been.

 

"Forgive me James Potter, but your son is better off with me than here." Severus whispered, obliviating the three muggles on the couch.

 

oOoOo

 

~~From: The Personal Diary of Severus Snape~~

 

What is Minerva thinking, sending me to “assist” the potter BRAT!!! She KNOWS how I feel about the child! And worse, the Headmaster is away with his grandniece so I can’t appeal the decision to him. Well, if she wants me to go she’ll have to deal with the consequences. I have a very finicky potion brewing, and it won’t be done until seven tonight. I’ll go then, and hopefully there will be no more nonsense of sending me after lost little children who couldn’t find a map if they were hit over the head with an atlas.

 

 

[1/15/11]
sSsSs
Noxturn Alley
sSsSs

 

Harry didn't know who the tall, dark stranger was. Well, that wasn't completely true. He knew the man's name, Severus Snape, but that was all. He didn't know why the man was there. Well, that wasn't completely true either. He knew the man was from Hogwarts, as he'd mentioned The Letter of his own accord. That combined with being more afraid of the Dursleys than of strangers meant Harry didn't so much as hesitate when he was told to get his things.

 

There really wasn't much: Dudley's hand-me-downs, and not many of them, the ink, pseudo-quill, and brushes, the dictionary, and the few assignments he'd managed to save from his relatives' wrath. Everything fit in his school bag with ease, and Harry returned to the living room to see his relatives with glassy looks being instructed to tell anyone who asked that Harry had been picked up by his father's brother to attend his parent's school. This fictitious father's brother had, apparently, just gotten back from rehabilitation after The War, explaining why he hadn’t taken Harry in before.

 

Mr. Snape saw him, and gestured for him to follow. Harry did, unconcerned. He'd been afraid at first, but the man's anger-scent was completely directed at the Dursleys now, not at Harry, so he trotted after the man with no hesitation.

 

"Don't be afraid."

 

The cryptic comment preceded Mr. Snape grabbing his arm, and twisting. Harry felt as though he was being pulled through the plumbing, and when the sensation ended abruptly he fell to his knees in shock.

 

"Congratulations, Mister Potter. You have just side-along apparated. Now, please get up so we can go to Gringotts." Mr. Snape was in a bad mood.

 

oOoOo

 

Severus took the boy to Diagon Alley by side-along apparation, not really caring if he scared the child. He was a bit too worked up over the muggle's treatment of the boy to be thinking clearly, and he had a bit of a puzzle to chew on besides.

 

'Ah, Mister Snape. What can we do for you this fine night?'…okay, so a Goblin wouldn't be caught dead saying that, but Severus could dream.

 

"What?" A surly goblin groused, looking up from his ledger.

 

"Mister Potter would like the key to his trust vault, and I would like to clear up a small matter of his heritage, as well as the larger matter of his guardianship." Severus said bluntly, wondering who he could foist the boy off on. He didn’t want to raise the child himself after all. How could he? The boy looked so much like Potter. So he wasn’t spoiled. So what? Besides, Severus definitely was not father material.

 

"Very well," the goblin grumbled, locking his ledger with a longing look, "key and heritage we can do now, come back tomorrow morning to speak to the Potter solicitor about guardianship."

 

Thirty minutes later Harry had a pouch of wizarding money, his key, and the knowledge to spend his money wisely, and Severus had confirmed what he already knew: James Potter was an idiot. Honestly, getting your wife pregnant after becoming a vampire's thrall in an effort to curry favor with said race and prevent them from joining the Dark Lord? And then letting said vampire babysit the newborn? How stupid can you get?

 

Luckily, Harry wasn't a full vampire. He had the dubious pleasure of being a half-blood. He had the sun allergy, though it wouldn't kill him, and if the goblins were right he was allergic to garlic as well. He'd live a long time, and when he got older he'd likely develop a few more specialized powers, either on the physical or the mental-emotional side of the card. In the meantime, Severus needed to get him some proper clothing.

 

oOoOo

 

Adam's Specialty Clothes in Noxturn Alley, the badly punned side-street off Knockturn Alley, was a store that catered to non-humans and part-humans. Mr. Kain, the proprietor, was one of the few gainfully employed werewolves, and remained so by staying off the ministry's radar. One of the more popular lines of clothing he carried was Vampiric Daywear: clothes spelled either for summer or winter, which would protect the wearer from the sun without sacrificing mobility or style. They came in sets, including shoes, and styles, including a package for Hogwarts students, though very few of those were stocked, as they were only rarely needed, though not always by vampires.

 

Severus led Harry into the store and over to the shelves he knew contained various styles of Hogwarts uniforms. He pointed out the samples of everything the child would need and stepped back slightly to watch the boy finger the garments in awe.

 

"There are a number of private rooms at the back of the shop. Go feed the child before he collapses." The slightly hard voice startled Severus and he turned to glare at his old friend. He and Adam Kain had known each other for years. Adam had helped Severus get over what they called his furry little nightmare, and Severus had helped Adam stay on the good side of both the ministry and the denizens of Noxturn Alley. After all, who better to help you play a dangerous game than a spy?

 

Severus turned to stare at his old friend. He knew werewolves had keen noses, but knowing the boy was hungry? Unless his stomach was rumbling? Severus remembered seeing a lack of recent food in the boy's thoughts, and mentally slammed his head against a wall. He'd forgotten. And, of course, not even Knockturn Alley had safe blood for sale. Unsafe blood? Sure, but for safe, unpoisoned, untrapped blood he'd have to go to the source, and if a werewolf was telling him to feed the boy, then he probably wouldn't be able to keep anything but blood down.

 

"Oh, and I hope you don't mind if I burn the boy's clothes. Not even his underwear is worth keeping." Mr. Kain interrupted Severus' thoughts, "I'll give him a discount on replacements to make up for it, but I doubt he'll want to keep the hand-me-downs anyways." With that the man disappeared, though how was a matter for later debate. Severus sighed, hoping the metrosexual werewolf didn’t do anything too horribly drastic with the child’s wardrobe.

 

"Harry, come here." Severus said, keeping his voice soft. The child trotted over and followed Severus through the back doors and down a hall to a room containing a couch and a coffee table. He moved fearlessly, but his posture spoke of caution and uncertainty. It was altogether a rather strange impression.

 

Severus sat on the couch. Harry stood and waited.

 

"Come child, sit." Severus said, watching the boy carefully. The first emotion he saw was fear. Anger coursed through him, and the fear increased. He fought the anger down.

 

"That wasn't a request." Faster than he could see, the boy was seated, shaking slightly.

 

Severus sighed. "Harry, look at me."

 

Lashes were in the way of complete eye contact, but the basics were there.

 

"I need you to trust me." He kept his voice steady, and locked his emotions behind a strong occlumency barrier. He really, really wasn’t cut out for this.

 

Fear. Confusion. The child…could he even understand the word trust? Severus needed to take a different track.

 

"Mister Kain has insisted that you must be hungry." That got a response, but not what Severus would have liked. Instead of a quiet nod, even the fearful one he'd been expecting, Harry leapt to his feet as though he'd been stung, and backed away.

 

"No, sir. 'm fine sir." Harry broke the eye contact to watch his feet.

 

"Harry, come here." Severus' patience was running thin. Apparently the child could tell because he walked over immediately, though is body language told Severus he was terrified, confused, and seconds from running like a fury.

 

Severus, contrary to popular belief, was not a vampire, did not have experience with vampires (though one of his just-graduated Slytherins had been a quarter-vampire), did not keep vampires as pets, and was not partial to drinking the blood of his students during detentions. Despite all this, despite Harry Potter being the son of James Potter, despite everything that had happened in the past four hours to make him question the sanity of the world, he knew precisely what he needed to do, and how to do it.

 

As Harry approached Severus flicked the penknife he kept in a pocket of his sleeve into his right hand, making sure the child couldn't see it. With a second motion, following so close on the first as to be indistinguishable, he brought the knife to the join between wrist and left hand, and inscribed a shallow slice, knowing that was where the blood vessels were closest to the surface.

 

The smell of blood was all it took for the mostly starved half-vampire to loose his fear, and had Severus not been used to flying potions ingredients he would have lost control of the situation. As it was Harry flew at his wrist, and he caught the child, twisting him around so that his back was to Severus' chest. He wrapped his right arm around Harry's waist even as the boy hung desperately to his left, mouth locked over the small cut at the join of wrist and hand.

 

Had Harry been a full vampire, Severus would have been thrown into a feeding-trance, but he was only half, and still a child so Severus was simply left with a rather strange sensation as Harry sucked blood from his body. For this he was grateful because he knew what happened to starving children who gorged, and he didn't want to find out of the same was true of vampires with blood. So he counted to five, and then took his wrist away, starting back and one and counting to ten in his head.

 

Harry whimpered, and started to thrash.

 

"Harry, stop." Severus said, keeping track of the count even as he spoke. It was a useful skill learned the hard way, though none of the potions accidents that led to the skill had been fatal, obviously. The child didn't listen, so he started counting out loud. "Seven, eight, nine, ten." He gave the child his arm back. "One, two, three, four, five." Took it away. "One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten." Gave it back. "One, two three, four, five."

 

When he took his wrist away the third time Harry caught on, and his voice joined Severus', though his eyes never left the bloody wrist. Severus was quite sure that the image they created was not one he wanted to ever see second-hand. It was likely too disturbing for words. He didn’t even want to see his wrist, blood coating it in a mouth-shaped pseudo-circle around a shallow gash.

 

After the ninth five-count Harry relaxed, at the eleventh he slowed down, and at the thirteenth Severus knew he had consumed enough, though how he knew was a mystery. He healed the cut, and took a half-dose of blood-replenishing potion.

 

Harry didn't move. In fact, he'd fallen asleep.

 

Mr. Kain transfigured the couch and table into a queen-sized bed, complete with sheets and a comforter… without so much as poking his head into the room.

 

Severus figured it was pointless to fight the inevitable, and let himself settle under the blankets, the body of one Harry Potter held safely in his arms.

 

So this is what it feels like to have a son. His last thoughts before falling asleep probably had James Potter rolling in his grave, yet somehow Severus couldn't bring himself to care.

 

~~From the pages of You Wound Me Now Die~~

 

Courtesies

 

The belief that werewolves and vampires are locked in an eternal struggle is a myth, though routed in some truth. In the past many magical creatures fought and killed each other on a regular basis. Then wizards started slaughtering everyone and they all decided to put their differences aside. Perhaps when wizards are no longer a threat we’ll all go back to killing each other, but for now it seems that relations are not only possible but flourishing.

 

Now, I use the example of werewolves and vampires to open this chapter for many reasons, but the main one is that all of the initial inter-species interactions I had were between various werewolves and myself. In fact, the first other Creature I met was a werewolf. He was the proprietor of a shop that catered to the specific dress requirements of humanoid Creatures…

 

 

[1/15/11]
sSsSs
A Father
sSsSs

 

Severus rose with the sun, as was his wont, and had a calm breakfast with Adam while Harry continued to sleep, snoring just slightly. After breakfast he helped Adam close the shop for the morning (it was open from mid-afternoon through sunrise), and only when his friend waved him off did he depart the shop and alley for Gringotts.

 

Entering the bank, Severus looked around and was waved over by one of the many goblins working the counters.

 

“What do you want?” The goblin groused.

 

“I was told to return this morning. I wish to speak with the Potter’s Solicitor about their will.” Severus said politely. It paid to be polite to the goblins even if they were never polite in public.

 

“Wait here.” The goblin hopped off its stool, and Severus allowed himself a quick peek over the counter as he waddled away. Sure enough, the floor on the other side was much higher than where he was standing, and the goblin’s chair was perfectly proportioned, not ridiculously tall as most wizards assumed. In fact, Severus remembered a time when Lucius Malfoy had joked with some other pre Death Eaters by mimicking a Goblin climbing stiffly up a stool.

 

“The solicitor will see you now.” The goblin had returned. Severus gave him a half-bow of thanks and walked towards a side door where another goblin was waiting. As he walked he turned his mind away from the memory, though he allowed himself a final thought on precisely how foolish Lucius had looked on many levels.

 

Severus was led to a room that contained a single oval table and five chairs. There was already a goblin inside, and a scroll lay on the table. It was the Potter’s will.

 

A quick glance at the goblin in the room as his escort closed the door told Snape that he had permission to look at the will, and he unrolled it with hands that were shaking slightly. He refused to admit it, even to himself, but he was a bit nervous. Still, he unrolled the scroll and read it through, nodding in some places and staring in others. At some point, he wasn’t sure when, he sat down on one of the chairs, his eyes still tracking across the page. When he got to the end he let the scroll go and stared at it as it re-rolled itself.

 

Sirius Black had been James' choice of guardian, along with a note saying Peter Pettigrew had been the secret keeper.

 

Severus Snape was Lily's.

 

Less than ten minutes were required to officially make Severus Harry's guardian.

 

During those ten minutes Severus learned that the goblins disliked Dumbledore as much as he himself disliked dunderheads.

 

It was as Severus left Gringotts that he realized exactly what he’d done. He’d gone and made himself the child’s guardian. He, Severus Snape, was officially the guardian of a child.

 

He contemplated his eventual fate as he walked back to Adam’s and let himself in. Moving as silently as only a spy can, he made his way to the room he’d spent the night in, and saw Harry, still asleep, and learned something new: He learned that cute small children curled up in giant beds look lost and need to be cuddled.

 

It was as he curled his body around the child’s and closed his eyes that Severus realized that he didn’t mind being the child’s guardian. In fact, he wasn’t sure he would have been able to give the boy up if he’d wanted to.

 

oOoOo

 

Harry woke up comfortable and warm, curled up… in someone's arms? Full? He shot out of the…bed? What bed? The couch and coffee table? But the back of the couch was facing him! And a man was on the other side of the coffee table.

 

He'd dreamed of a man. A man? This man! Dreamed that he'd been taken from the Dursleys'… It was real?

 

He wasn't hungry!

 

Dreamed of being fed. Fed the one thing that always agreed with him, the thing he'd been tortured with by a sadistic uncle every time he'd gone particularly long with no food. The thing normal people didn't eat. The man he didn't even know had fed him? Blood?

 

"Harry." The man called him by his name. Not 'boy'. Not 'freak'. I have a name.

 

"Yes, you do." He'd said that out loud? Apparently he had.

 

"Would you care to put this on so we can finish shopping?" The man held a robe. It had a hood with something attached to the open face so that it wasn't open but he could see. He also held a pair of long gloves, and tall, soft-soled boots that looked a lot like socks. And underwear. And soft pants. And a soft shirt. In short, he held an entirely new, not second-hand, outfit.

 

Harry took the clothing with shaking hands, staring at it in wonder. It was all… clean? His size? His clothes? Apparently.

 

He started to rip off his old clothes but paused when he was down to his shorts, which were so big they covered him from navel to knee and had to be held up with twine. He felt dirty, filthy, and he wanted to get clean.

 

"Shower?" He asked, looking up, meeting the man's eyes of his own accord for the first time.

 

"This way kid." A second man came around the corner. This one smelled different, like a person and a wolf, but the wolf was behind the person. How did he know what a wolf smelled like? Did it matter?

 

Harry handed the clothes back to the first man, not wanting to dirty them any more than he already had, and followed the wolf-man through dark halls, and into a tiled bathroom, the only light artificial.

 

There was a shower and a bathtub.

 

He went to the shower, turned it on, and let it warm up. When it was just right he stepped under the soft rain of water, letting Dudley’s shorts fall to the floor where he wouldn’t step on them getting out.

 

Harry scrubbed until his skin was raw, lathered his hair multiple times, cleaned every inch of skin with meticulous care, and finally toweled himself dry. Only then did he retrace his steps, a towel wrapped around him, so big it covered him down to the ankles and dragged on the floor.

 

The man, Mr. Snape, he remembered, was still there, the clothes in a neatly folded pile on the couch next to him.

 

Harry walked up, not afraid for the first time in his memory, and donned the strange new garb, easily using the towel as a privacy screen, not that Mr. Snape tried to look. He was reading something, a piece of strange paper.

 

When he was fully dressed Harry looked down at himself in wonder. He could move freely, and he wasn’t stifled like in his old clothes. In fact, the cloth felt soft and cool against his skin, and something told him it would stay cool so that he didn’t overheat. For the first time he was actually comfortable during the summer. It was a novel experience.

 

"Welcome to the wizarding world, Mister Potter." The Snape man said when Harry was fully dressed.

 

"Thank you, sir." Harry replied from behind the protective mesh of his hood.

 

"I am Professor Severus Snape. I teach potions at Hogwarts. I am also officially your guardian as of two hours ago. I would prefer to explain the rest once we've bought your supplies and gotten you settled at my, now your, house." The man continued.

 

"Yes, sir." Harry felt like a new person, but he wasn't going to test that feeling too far just yet. First he needed to learn the rules of this new world.

 

Mr. Kain presented Harry with a package of clothing, everything from undergarments to old-style shoes and casual robes. Also in the package was the standard Hogwarts kit in modified style. He took time to show Harry how to properly don each garment, and then sent the pair off with good-wishes.

 

Harry was ecstatic. He was out in the sun, and it wasn't hurting him. He wasn't even really tired even though it was the height of the day. He tagged after Severus, and their very first stop was a small sandwich shop where he was allowed to pick anything he wanted from the kid's menu. Of course, eating it proved a bit more difficult, but he eventually got the hang of eating through the flap in the protective mesh, especially as it was designed to permit eating and drinking, though he was glad to have a straw in his milk.

 

Milk! That was a new thing. He’d never been allowed milk before. He felt so bad when he couldn’t finish it too, but by halfway through the meal he was stuffed. Professor Snape just smiled though, and had the leftovers, even the milk, packed away for later.

 

After lunch they went to a travel store, and Harry spend a good half-hour exploring the different trunks. There were multi-compartment trunks, school trunks, featherlight trunks, room-trunks, so many different kinds of trunks. Harry had absolutely no clue what to chose. Severus finally got irritated and grabbed a 'student's smart-trunk', pointing out the multiple compartments for clothes, books, a potions kit, a writing kit, and pet supplies, and told Harry it was now his trunk.

 

Everything needed for potions class was acquired with a minimum of fuss, the Apothecary being Severus' domain. The bookstore, on the other hand, took almost two hours. Harry could, for the first time in his life, get whatever he pleased, and he went a little crazy. He picked up his school texts, then he disappeared, and it took Severus over an hour to find him…hidden behind the man-height stacks of books he wanted. The next forty-five minutes was an argument about how many books Harry could actually buy (books were the only thing Harry ever argued with an authority figure over), though Severus finally managed to end it by informing Harry of the library at Spinner's End, and capping extra-curriculars at ten.

 

Three stores,  a snowy owl, red, green, blue, purple, black, and color-changing ink, five quills, twenty rolls of parchment and one-hundred-and-seven wands later Harry threw up his hands with an inhuman growl, stalked past a confounded Ollivander, and disappeared into the shelves of the wand shop. Less than a minute after that he returned with a wand in his hands.

 

"This one." He said quietly. He’d felt one that called to him even more than the one he’d picked, but he’d also felt something stirring, something he didn’t like, and this one felt so much calmer.

 

"Thirteen inches, birch, and…unicorn hair? An interesting combination, Mister Potter."

 

"Yes, yes, how much?" Severus cut the man off.

 

"Eight galleons."

 

They handed the money over, and left, each shuddering in relief when they made their escape.

 

Finally, Snape took Harry back to his house on Spinner’s End. It wasn’t the house of his childhood anymore. He’d spent years worth of summers fixing it up and adding lots of nice security features like hidden doors and a ward-matrix. He quickly added Harry to the full ward matrix instead of the partials he added visitors to. Then he took Harry upstairs, showing him how to work the bookcase-door, and showed him to his room.

 

oOoOo

 

Harry's room was directly across the hall from Severus', and oh so very amazing. The walls were painted a light, sky blue, and the floor had a dark green carpet over some of it, the rest a nice dark wood. The bed looked sturdy if a bit worn, and the desk had a few chips in it, but everything looked loved instead of used, and Harry simply gaped in awe.

 

Eventually Severus took over and unpacked Harry’s clothes into the armoire across from the desk. By the time he got to the books Harry had snapped out of his trance and they put them on the bookshelves together. Hedwig’s cage was hung from a hook that extended about a foot and a half from the wall next to the window, and the supplies they’d gotten went into a trunk beneath the hook. Lastly, they put a quill and a bottle of ink on the desk, leaving everything else in the school trunk, and retreated to the den to converse.

 

"I'll never have to go back to the Dursleys'?" Harry asked as he settled into a squishy chair and took control of a conversation for the first time in his life.

 

"Correct." Severus replied.

 

"And you're my guardian, which means you're like a parent." Harry continued.

 

"Indeed." Severus started to wonder about the questions.

 

"Why you?" Harry jumped the conversation to a pseudo-new topic.

 

"It was in your parent's will. Your mother wished me to take you should your parents and godfather be incapable." Severus replied carefully, trying to figure out how to gain control of the conversation.

 

"Why did the Dursleys' have me then?" Harry sounded confused, a bit lost, and more than a bit hurt.

 

"I don't know child." Severus said truthfully.

 

"Did you know my mum wanted you to take me?" Harry had no clue why he was pushing this man, but something inside him was rising like a storm, and he was clueless to stop it.

 

"No," Severus sounded, and was, remorseful, "and, honestly, I'm not sure I would have taken you had I known. Your father and I were bitter enemies, and until last night I had no clue your relatives were…less than fawning." Why had he said that of all things?

 

"Can I call you dad?"

 

oOoOo

 

~~From the pages of You Wound Me, Now Die~~

 

Thrall

 

It took me many years to realize why my father and I bonded as quickly as we did. Of course, I didn’t question it at the time, and even if I had I don’t think I would have changed anything, especially given how fragile I was. Still, I feel it necessary to speak of now, for the edification of all.

 

Though I did not realize it at the time, my father was also my Thrall. The thrall-bond is quite complex, and yet very simple to induce. It is most often used to effect the Turning of a new High Vampire, but functioned just as well to give me someone I could trust enough to heal the emotional wounds of my life with the Dursleys.

 

Perhaps, before I go any further, I should explain the thrall-bond. It is a bond between vampire and human, magical or non, that allows each to know the location and physical/emotional status of the other at all times. It also enhances trust between the two and prevents the human from harming the vampire. The human initiates the bond by willingly feeding the vampire, specifically by cutting the join between left hand and wrist and feeding the vampire via that incision, though after that any act of feeding will strengthen the bond.

 

The specific location of the cut is important, and is how willing donors keep from becoming thralls. A vampire feeding from a willing donor will usually bite the left or right wrist a little above the join, and if a donor must initiate a feeding they will avoid that specific location, usually playing it safe by cutting the right wrist.

 

Of course, humans don’t know any of this unless they dance in Vampiric circles, which is how my dad ended up accidentally initiating such a bond, not that I’m complaining.

 

 

 

[1/16/11]
sSsSs
Dumbledore
sSsSs

 

Harry spent the first night in his new room getting up and checking the door to make sure it was unlocked. He hadn’t thought he was disturbing Mr. Snape (he knew he’d asked if he could call him dad, but he was too afraid to actually do so) until, a little after midnight, he saw the knob turn from his bed and watched fearfully as the door started to open. However, it stopped almost as soon as it had started, leaving a slight crack between door and frame.

 

He wanted to reassure me. Harry gasped in his mind a few minutes later when he finally worked out why Mr. Snape had done something so silly. He couldn’t understand it, but a few minutes later it didn’t matter because he’d fallen asleep.

 

oOoOo

 

“Um, Mr. Snape?” Harry spent most of breakfast working up the courage to get to this point. He had an intense urge to trust the man, but his life so far had taught him not to trust anyone, and especially not to trust adults.

 

“Yes, Harry?” Mr. Snape looked up from the letter he was writing over breakfast.

 

“Um, can you, that is, maybe, if it’s okay with you-“

 

“Harry.” Mr. Snape cut off his babbling, his voice just barely tinged with irritation. “Do you know what prevarication is?”

 

“The noun form of prevaricate: To speak or act in an evasive way.” Harry replied immediately.

 

“You are prevaricating, Harry. Cease doing so.” Mr. Snape said, his voice mildly forceful.

 

“Yes sir.” Harry stared at his hands. There he’d gone and lost his chance to ask, and all because he was a stupid, cowardly freak. How could he have been so stupid? His aunt and uncle hated when he did that. Granted, they never gave him anything he asked for anyways, but when he hesitated the punishment was worse-

 

“I believe you were attempting to ask me a question.” Mr. Snape’s voice sounded like he was forcing it to be neutral, as though he really wanted to snap but couldn’t.

 

Harry looked up, astonished. He could still ask? He hadn’t completely blown it?

 

“Today, Harry.”

 

“Oh, right, um-“ he took a deep breath. “Canyoutakedownmydoorplease?”

 

“Good.” Mr. Snape said calmly. “Now say it slowly, and do please enunciate.”

 

Good? The word rang in Harry’s head and he felt light, lighter than he ever had before.

 

“Can you take down my door, please.” Harry repeated, slowing his voice so that the words didn’t come out in a jumble.

 

“Certainly.” Mr. Snape said calmly. “We will do so after lunch. This morning we are going shopping for heavy drapes for your room. I’ll just get an extra for across your door.”

 

Harry stared. Never in his wildest dreams had he expected the answer to be yes. He had even wondered why he was bothering to ask, and now he was not only going to get drapes so the sun wouldn’t burn him, but he was also going to have the door taken down!

 

Inside, that voice pushing him to trust Mr. Snape got louder. Harry wanted to listen to the voice. He really did. As the day progressed he watched Mr. Snape, saw how the man never even raised his voice, and slowly, slowly he started listening to the inner voice.

 

oOoOo

 

Over the next few days they had a stream of visitors. First was a bustling woman who was introduced as Madame Pomfrey, the school nurse. She gave Harry a complete checkup and left Mr. Snape with a scroll over three feet long with instructions for his health.

 

Next was a kind woman, all smiles and cuddles, named Professor Sprout. She was followed by a short man, shorter than Harry, named Professor Flitwick. Finally, on the fourth day at the house, Harry met Professor McGonagall.

 

The next day all three professors and the mediwitch came at the same time, and Mr. Snape sat down with them to talk. Harry paid close attention as they spoke, but didn’t say anything unless he was asked a direct question. For once he was happy to let adults do the work.

 

oOoOo

 

"Harry! Our guest is here!" Severus' voice filtered through the heavy, purple-black curtain that blocked the entrance to Harry's room. They’d gotten two sets of curtains, both of the same shimmering fabric, one for the window and one for the door. Harry had helped put both curtains up, and was overjoyed when Mr. Snape took the door away and stored it somewhere (Harry hadn’t bothered following).

 

Then they'd had a rather long conversation about Harry, vampirism, xeroderma pigmentosum, and what Harry wanted to tell the rest of the world. They'd decided they needed an outside opinion, and two days ago  Lorcan d'Eath, the part-vampire singer, had come over for dinner. Now they were hosting a more – challenging – guest.

 

Harry rose from his chair, and threw his favorite robes, a middling-deep green with tiny silver serpent decals on the sleeve-hems, (his father refused to tell him why the robes amused him so much), over the pants, shirt, slipper-boots, and gloves he was already wearing. The hood of his robes settled on his head, and he put out the moon-globe on his desk, a quartz crystal spelled to let off about as much light as a full moon, before stepping from his room and pacing silently down the stairs.

 

Headmaster Dumbledore was a tall, thin, old man with a long white beard, dressed in purple robes with yellow moons, his dunce cap of similar design. He also wore magic, purposeful flails that started investigating Harry as soon as he entered the room. Now, Harry wasn't horribly good at feeling magic, but he could tell when someone was pushing on his mind with it, and he really, really didn't like it – so he leapt across an intervening chair and hid behind his father.

 

"Harry?" The Headmaster asked. Harry flinched and growled. Mr. d'Eath had told him a lot about courtesy in the magical world, and here was one of the preeminent wizards being rude.

 

"The only person who has permission to call me by my given name is my father." Harry growled out, staying well hidden behind said person.

 

"My sincerest apologies, my boy…" The Headmaster started, and Harry could see his eyes twinkling from where he was peeking out. He also felt Severus twitch.

 

"I am not your boy. Do not address me as such." Harry had gained confidence quickly after being removed from his… previous house. Mr. d'Eath had explained that too. Apparently it wasn't in the vampiric nature to be submissive to anyone unless the other was proven to be the superior force or there was a bond of affection between the two. The fact that being called 'boy' in any form still tended to cause what his father called 'flashbacks' didn't help.

 

The Headmaster sighed. "What should I call you then, my…" He managed to catch himself before repeating his mistake.

 

"Mister Potter will suffice." Mr. Snape spoke up for the first time.

 

"Very well, Mister Potter, I'm going to have to insist you come with me now, and return to your relative's house. I'm sure they miss you very much. Professor Snape may have thought he was doing the right thing, but you are legally their ward, and must be returned to them." The Headmaster said, his eyes twinkling madly.

 

Harry gripped the back of Severus' cloak, but said nothing, and refused to move.

 

"I'm sorry Headmaster, but that's where you are wrong." Mr. Snape said, his voice quiet, and soft like silk. Harry already recognized that voice. His father had used it when they'd gone to the Ministry for a man named Sirius Black's hearing. He'd used it on a few of his students when they'd met in Diagon Alley one morning. It was his 'I win, I know it, and soon you'll know it' voice.

 

"The Dursleys were not Harry's legal guardians. The stipend they received from you was not official. No Ministry representatives or Child Services employees ever checked in on them. They signed no documents. I, on the other hand, have already signed the pre-written guardianship papers that Lily requested prior to her death. Sirius Black has already signed them as well, in his capacity as Harry's godfather. There were no blood wards on Number 4 Privet Drive, as such wards require positive interaction to maintain, and if you attempt to take my son from me I will have you brought to trial and sentenced as a kidnapper." Harry liked it when his father spoke like that. He also remembered the scene with the Black man.

 

"You WHAT? No! No way am I going to let you be Harry's guardian!" The man had so much hate washing off him that Harry wanted to run. He was terrified.

 

"Black, calm down or you will destroy any chance you have of getting to know your godson." His father was calm…somehow.

 

"Are you threatening me?" The man roared.

 

"No, but you are scaring him." The man looked at Harry, who was hiding behind his father, who had one hand on his arm, keeping him from bolting, and froze.

 

"Har…"

 

"You will sign the papers. You will go get treatment for overexposure to dementors. When you are capable of being rational you will contact me, and we will discuss life, liberty, and the pursuit of keeping Harry out of the clutches of megalomaniac wizards long enough for him to learn to defend himself. You do not get a choice in the matter."

 

The Black man had signed the papers and allowed himself to be taken to the hospital.

 

Harry and Mr. Snape had gone home.

 

"I'm going to have to ask Mister Potter to disrobe then, to make sure he is not being mistreated." The Headmaster said, trying to regain lost ground, and grievously insulting both Harry and Severus in the process.

 

"Do you want to kill him?" Severus snapped. "My son has xeroderma pigmentosum." The Headmaster looked lost. "The sun will kill him."

 

"He's a vampire?" Somehow the shock of that connection made the Headmaster speak without thinking.

 

"No, he has xerodermia pigmentosum. It's a recessive genetic disorder in which the ability of the body to repair damage done by sunlight is missing. (1) Potter and Lily were both carriers." Severus said, his voice irked.

 

"Well then, he must see Poppy so she can fix it." The Headmaster brightened considerably.

 

"She's already been by. Magic can't fix it, nor can muggle medicine." Severus was starting to enjoy this.

 

"She's…already been by?" The twinkle and shine faded to a bare whisper of their former glory.

 

"That is what I said, headmaster." Severus grinned. One little push, and he would win this little battle.

 

"Severus, may I speak with you?" The Headmaster asked, ready to pull his trump card.

 

"I believe I know what you wish to speak of, and there's really no point." Severus smiled and rolled up his left sleeve. His arm was completely bare.

 

Harry had seen the Dark Mark on the third day, and he'd thrown an unholy fit. The Dark Order may have been for life, but apparently being the parent of a vampire-wizard with no training and copious amounts of magic had its perks. Harry had no clue that it was impossible to remove the Dark Mark, and had, therefore, removed it, completely, and with a lot of pain on Severus' part.

 

"How?" Oh, yes. Severus was free. Free of Voldemort. Free of Dumbledore, except in a professor-headmaster quality, free of spying and manipulation, and most especially free to raise his son how he saw fit.

 

"Magic."

 

Harry watched the Headmaster leave, eyes tracking each movement with caution. When he was sure the man was gone he turned to his father.

 

"You okay?" He asked.

 

"Indeed. And you?" His father's hand came to rest on his shoulder, and Harry leaned into the embrace.

 

"I don't like him." Harry said, shuddering slightly.

 

"We can find you a different school." His father's voice was heavy with concern.

 

"No. For now I'll go to Hogwarts. If he becomes a problem we'll revisit the possibility." Harry smiled up at his father's blank look. He loved using big words. The stunned expressions he could elicit from adults were just too good.

 

It was as he was falling asleep that night, tucked into his warm, comfortable bed that Harry realized something: At some point during the Headmaster’s visit he’d stopped thinking of his guardian as Mr. Snape and started thinking of him as Severus, and even, occasionally, as Father.

 

~~From the pages of You Wound Me Now Die~~

 

Courtesy

 

Courtesy is very important to non-humans. It is the glue that keeps them from killing each other, and as such a great emphasis is put on protocol and behavior. Humans, as a general rule, are not expected to be aware of courteous behavior, however some behaviors are universally rude. As such, I find it pathetic that my first memory of Albus Dumbledore, who was then hailed as a wizard of great power and esteem, is of him being downright rude.

[1/16/11]
sSsSs
A Train and A Hat
sSsSs

 

The prefect's carriage was host to a first-year, for the third time in the history of the Hogwarts' Express. Harry Potter would not be riding with the rest of the school. There was too much risk of a student trying to force his hood off or something similar. As such, the prefects had been briefed about his 'xeroderma pigmentosum', and instructed to keep an eye on him.

 

Severus dropped Harry off at ten-thirty that morning, and left specific instructions with the already present Head Boy. Then he disappeared with a twirl and a crack, and the Head Boy, Anders, settled Harry at the front of the carriage with his books and carefully packed lunch.

 

"Hey Anders."

 

"Willson."

 

Conversation started up as the prefects trickled in.

 

"Anders, Willson, 'sup?"

 

"Terenson."

 

"Hey Ter."

 

"Anders, Ter, Willson, how was break?"

 

"Busy. Renny c'mere a minute." Anders walked over to Harry, a seventh-year girl next to him.

 

"Renny, this is Harry Potter, the kid Professor Snape was talking about. Potter, this is Rene Ivenson. She's Head Girl this year." Anders said, his eyes gleaming in a not-nice-but-not-malicious way. Harry found out why a second later.

 

"Oh he's so cute!" Ivenson cooed, scooping Harry into a cuddle-hug. "Oh, I hope you're in Hufflepuff. Then I can cuddle you every day!" She sat herself down in Harry's seat, pulling him securely onto her lap and holding him there.

 

"If anyone needs me I'll be over here." She sent Anders off with a wave of her hand.

 

"Um…Miss Ivenson?" Harry mumbled.

 

"Call me Renny, cutie." Rene said, looking at his book over his shoulder.

 

"Renny?" Harry tried again.

 

"Yeah hun?" Rene pulled her own book, a muggle mystery novel, out of her pocket.

 

"Um…nevermind." With all the big words in his head, Harry couldn't decide how to ask why the girl seemed to like him, or if she even did. He was too afraid. Instead he wriggled into a more comfortable position, and found where he'd left off reading.

 

Harry didn't know how much time had passed, only that the train had started moving, when Rene was called to join the main conversation…so, of course, she picked him up, carried him over to where the others were sitting, and sat down, never once letting Harry go.

 

"Rene…" Anders grumbled, his voice holding both amusement and warning.

 

"What? It's not like he weighs anything." She countered.

 

"That's completely beside the point." Anders said, but dropped it.

 

Discussion of patrol schedules, partners, meetings, appropriate use of the points system, and many other things floated over Harry's head as he dug further and further into the autobiography of Vlad Tepes, also known as Dracula. Mr. d'Eath had given it to him as a birthday present, and Harry was grateful. It was nice to know the truth about a man so feared by human society, a man who happened to be a pseudo-grand-sire of sorts.

 

An hour later Harry ate his lunch.

 

A nap, and a book-and-a-half later Harry stepped off the train, hand firmly held in Rene's.

 

"Firs' years! Over 'ere!" A very, very large man held a lantern, and called to the newest students. "Firs' years! Hey Renny. Bit old to be a firs' year, arencha?" The man grinned.

 

"Of course not, Hagrid, can't you tell?" Rene shot back, crouching down so that she was shorter than Harry.

 

"Ridin' with us tonigh?" Hagrid asked.

 

"Yeah, Professor Snape's orders." She pulled Harry into her arms again. He'd long ago given up resisting his dad, and now he got to add Rene to the ‘resistance is futile’ list. The strange thing was that he really didn't mind. It was nice really, being cared for… being held.

 

"Arright then. Firs' years! You all 'ere? Les' go then!"

 

Rene let Harry walk, but she held his hand the whole way. When Hogwarts came into view she smiled, gasping a bit along with the younger years. After all, it had been seven years since she'd seen the castle from that angle, and it really was grand.

 

"No more'n four to a boat!" They climbed in, Rene and Harry being joined by a pointy-nosed boy and a red-haired boy. Harry would learn later how glad he was that Rene's presence kept them quietly confused.

 

After their boat ride Hagrid led them up innumerable steps, and left them with Professor McGonagall, who lectured them about the houses before leaving them to be scared by ghosts. Rene stayed with Harry until the first-years were led into the Great Hall, then slipped away to seat herself at one of the house tables, Harry didn't quite catch which, though he remembered that she was in Hufflepuff, so he assumed she would be at the table below the yellow and black banners.

 

Professor McGonagall placed an old hat on a stool in front of the first-years, and Harry watched it carefully. He tried not to roll his eyes when it started singing, but he did sigh with the others when he realized all he'd have to do was try it on.

 

Harry clapped politely when Hannah Abbott was sorted into Hufflepuff, and for each Sorting after that until…

 

"Potter, Harry."

 

The whispers started, and everyone tried to get a look at him. When Harry was next to the stool Professor McGonagall put a restraining hand on his shoulder.

 

"Mister Potter has a medical condition called xeroderma pigmentosum. This means his body cannot recover from damage caused by the sun or bright lights. Therefore, anyone who attempts to force or coerce Mister Potter into removing his protective garments will be treated as though they have attacked another student with the intent to kill them. You have been warned." The hand was removed, and Harry sat down. The hat was placed over his hood.

 

Well, well, this is interesting. The hat grumbled a bit. And not at all amusing. You do realize that I can't sort you based on where you should be, and have to sort you based on where you won't die?

 

Care to explain? Harry thought-asked, wondering what was going on.

 

Gryffindor and Ravenclaw are both in towers, and if the Slytherins found out what you really are they'd kill you. Hufflepuffs, on the other hand, won't care. Granted, you’re a hard worker, no doubt about that, but you’re much more suited to Ravenclaw. Still, nothing to be done about it: I won’t be the cause of another student’s death. Once is enough. Now, if you don't mind, I'm going to sort you before you give me a bigger headache.

 

"HUFFLEPUFF!" Harry hopped off the chair, and walked over to the other first-year Hufflepuffs, sitting down between MacMillan and Bones. He wasn't sure how a hat could have a headache. He'd have to look into it… eventually.

 

"Cutiepies!" Rene managed to sneak up on the first-years as the feast started, and she plopped down on the far side of MacMillan. "Lessee. Abbott, Bones, Flinch-Fletchley, Hopkins, Jones, Macmillan, Potter, Peerson, Smith." She pointed each out as she said their name. "Also known as Hannah, Susan, Justin, Wayne, Megan, Ernie, Harry, Annabelle, and Zacharias. Did I get it? Hmm?"

 

A pink-haired girl a few seats away snickered. "Renny, no need to confound the firsties!"

 

"Aw, lay off Tonks." Rene's words were harsh, but her tone was jocular. "Lemme have my fun."

 

"Alright, but I'm not cleaning up after you." Tonks retorted, turning back to her plate.

 

The meal continued, followed by dessert. Finally the tables were cleared; announcements made, and first-years told to follow their prefects.

 

"Oh, Potter." Rene reached around MacMillan to tap Harry's shoulder. "Your dad says he's proud of you, and he'll see you tomorrow in class."

 

"Really now, Miss Ivenson, do you always have to steal my thunder?" Severus said from directly behind Harry.

 

"Dad!" Harry yelped, whirling around. He was a little worried, actually, about not being in Severus' house.

 

Severus picked him up, and pulled him into a hug. "I am proud of you. I know you'll do well in Hufflepuff."

 

"Thanks dad." Harry wrapped his arms around Severus' neck. "Now, um, can you put me down before they faint?"

 

Harry got to watch Severus look at the masses of staring students, a number of whom looked like they might actually pass out.

 

"What?" Severus grumbled.

 

"Um…you're the evil bat of the dungeons who has no heart and eats students for dessert during detention?" Rene said, trying not to laugh. "You're not supposed to have a son, much less hug him in public. The fact that he's the boy-who-lived just makes it worse." During her speech Harry managed to slide to the ground, and he immediately grabbed her hand, tugging her towards the doors.

 

"Right. Go. I'll see you tomorrow at breakfast." Severus said absently…to the entirety of Hufflepuff House. Already the gears in his head were spinning, trying to figure out how he could use this to scare even more students, though, truth be told, Harry would probably come up with better ways than he ever could…without realizing it.

 

~~From the diary of Severus Snape~~

 

While my son – you know, it’s strange. I still haven’t gotten used to calling him that, yet I find myself doing so with no hesitation. Anyways, while my son seemed not to care about how the other students might react to his need for physical contact, and it is his need, I worry about him. I noticed a few days after I signed the papers that he took every opportunity to touch me. Little things: Holding my hand, sitting next to me on the couch: Things you’d expect a much smaller child to do. Mr. d’Eath explained some of it to me: He’s marking his territory.

 

The thing is, he was very shy about it. He seemed to expect that I would rebuff him at every turn. I was warned by the stuttering mess he turned into over the door to his room, which I really should have thought of, but that’s a different matter. As it was, I knew he needed physical reassurance, and I felt strangely okay with that. I say strangely because I am not a man who appreciates physical contact, and yet I found myself just as anxious to reassure myself that he was okay at every opportunity.

 

I started small: Pats on the head, ruffling his hair, that kind of thing. I was always careful about how I approached him, and soon he stopped that instinctive flinch that was like a punch in the gut to me. Within a week I started hugging him on a regular basis, and he quickly grew comfortable laying against me for hours as I went through various potions books with him, explaining everything the authors get horribly wrong.

 

The point is, I didn’t hesitate to hug him tonight, in full view of most of the students at Hogwarts, and now I am very worried. I know how children react, especially at this age. I should not have done that, and he should not have accepted it, and yet it has happened, and I must deal with the consequences. Perhaps I will speak with Miss Ivenson soon about getting all of Hufflepuff involved in his protection. I know they have some way of protecting their members that the other houses don’t and aren’t aware of. I will have to look into it. For now, however, I must go greet my Snakes and send them off to bed.

 

 

[1/17/11]
sSsSs
Hufflepuff
sSsSs

 

Harry spent the short walk to the Hufflepuff dorms chatting with his fellow first-years. When they stopped he looked around, and saw, of all things, a Buddha statue. Or, he thought it was a Buddha. There was something not quite right about it though so maybe it was just a random fat man.

 

"Oy, firsties!" Rene called to them. "Watch, yeah?" She reached down and tickled the statue's right big toe.

 

"Heh, hey, stop that." The statue grumbled, sliding out of the way. Behind it was a short, round tunnel that let into a cheerily lit room with yellow and black décor.

 

"So, boys go through that tube on your right, girls on the left. Go all the way to the end, and the last door is yours." Rene grinned. "Lads, see the three gents over there?" She pointed at three boys standing by the hall they'd been told to take. "They're your prefects. Go introduce yourselves, ja?" With that she took the girls to meet the fifth and sixth year female prefects.

 

Harry, shrugging, walked over with the other boys.

 

"Heya lads. I'm the seventh-year Hufflepuff prefect for the boys, Ian Levington." The oldest boy said.

 

"Sixth year, Anton Avers."

 

"Fifth year, Will Avers, and yes, we're brothers."

 

“Now, none of us have Renny’s insane memory, so if you could all please introduce yourselves?” Ian asked. His eyes flickered to Harry, who was at the edge of the semi-circle they’d formed.

 

"Harry Potter."

 

"Justin Flinch-Fletchley."

 

"Ernie MacMillan."

 

"Wayne Hopkins."

 

"Zacharias Smith."

 

"Right." Will stepped forwards. "If you have any problems come to one of us or one of the girls. If you need help we'll set you up with a tutor. Other announcements can wait until tomorrow. Follow me." He turned and walked into the tunnel.

 

The doors all had amusing labels. 'Kings of the sett', 'plus one', 'the hand', 'less a thumb', 'three legs', 'terrible twos', and finally 'firsties'. Harry, after a moment of contemplation, realized that they were actually descriptive titles for the year contained within. Of the first four years, only the firsties were given a break on mildly offensive names. He hypothesized that it was because students came from so many different backgrounds that it was easy to offend someone.

 

Inside the 'firsties' door was an elliptical room with a curtain creating a flat far wall. Four four-post beds were set in a box pattern, feet pointing towards the center of the room. Each had a desk on the inside near the foot and a wardrobe on the outside near the head. Shoe-racks sat at the foot, pointed to the center of the room, and a bookshelf made a box with the desk and the bed. Where the fifth bed should have been was the curtain-wall, the fabric heavy and thick enough that Harry knew it would block all light.

 

"Harry's bed is curtained off because of his condition." Will said to all of them. "Now, I need to warn you, only Harry, Hufflepuff prefects, and professors can open those curtains. We don't have any direct windows, but there's enough light to do damage, and we don't want anyone to catch Harry changing and accidentally hurt him."

 

Harry blushed even as he sidled to the curtains. He slid through them, pausing to let his eyes adjust to the much lower light level. A wave and a thought lit the moon-globe on his desk, and he walked to his trunk in two quick strides. Two minutes had his bookshelf organized, another three to put away his writing supplies and potions kit. Ten had his clothes tucked into the wardrobe and his shoes stowed on the rack. Finally he was done, and he stripped off his day clothes, set his alarm, a present from Professor McGonagall, to go off at seven, and curled up under his covers to sleep.

 

oOoOo

 

True to his word, Severus entered the Great Hall at the start of breakfast, and sat down at the Head table to enjoy a slow cup of coffee and a bowl of yogurt with raisins, granola, and maple syrup. He'd noticed Harry sitting in a mostly hidden alcove, reading a book, as he entered the hall, and wondered what his son was up to.

 

He found out rather quickly, and thanked whatever power watched over his son that the Great Hall was mostly empty. Harry had decided to creep up to the Head table, and wriggle into Severus' lap, ostentatiously taking a bite of his yogurt.

 

"You, child, have a death-wish." Severus grumbled affectionately, taking the spoon back from his son and eating around his head. Harry just leaned back and grinned, taking in the amusing faces most of the present students were making.

 

"Hmm. Da? Keep an eye on those twins over there. They look like they're planning something." Harry pointed out the Weasley twins, who almost always got to breakfast early.

 

"They're always planning something," Severus grumbled. "Oh, before I forget, would you swing by my quarters after classes? There's someone I want you to meet."

 

"Okay." Harry, who had just seen the rest of the Hufflepuff first-years walk into the great hall with Rene, slid off Severus' lap and rolled under the table to avoid having to go all the way around. Severus sighed, watching as his son skipped (skipped!) off to join his housemates.

 

"Severus, you do realize that if he keeps this up your reputation will be ruined, right?" Minerva asked conversationally as she passed him the coffee pot.

 

"Of course, Minerva." Severus replied, just as blandly, "but I don't think I need to worry about my reputation anymore. After all, even if He does come back Harry ruined my spy persona. Now I truly can devote my time to potions. Lupin's coming up for a while, and I fully intend to experiment with the wolfsbane while he's here." He sighed. “Mostly I’m hoping my reputation will last long enough to protect him from being ostracized.” He gave her a significant look.

 

"Indeed.” Minerva, too, glanced around, noticing some of the first years already shooting Harry strange looks. “But the part about Remus is wonderful. Have you decided to forgive him for Sirius' idiocy?" Minerva looked a tad stunned.

 

"Of course not. I fully intend to yell at him until his ears bleed, but I need him to convince said mutt that I am not teh eebil death munchies, otherwise there may be a few problems with Harry's guardianship." Severus intentionally used bad grammar and enunciated poorly when mentioning his former status.

 

"So you intend to yell at him?" Minerva could see a number of large gaps in Severus' logic.

 

"Yes, Minerva." Severus sighed and turned to her. "If Black tries to get custody he may end up irreversibly damaging his relationship with Harry. He's not parent material, particularly not after Azkaban. I need Lupin to handle Black, but first I need to vent seven years of frustration, angst, and anger on the wolf. He knows I'm going to, and I know he's going to vent the Potters' deaths on me." He shrugged and turned back to his food.

 

"You're insane." Minerva said after a minute. "Completely, totally insane."

 

oOoOo

 

Harry's first class was potions with the Ravanclaws. Will led the firsties to the dungeons ten minutes early, and left them to sprint to his own class, which was only allowable (normally the prefects waited until just before the bell) because it was divination. Harry, entirely too awake for his own good, left his bag with Wayne and climbed the doorframe of their classroom. Of course, the room itself was locked, but that wasn't going to stop Harry from…

 

"Well what have we here? Ickle puffers all early for class?" A burley, ugly Slytherin stood with four other, slightly less ugly, Slytherins, arms crossed, glaring menacingly at the row of rather scared first-years.

 

"What should we do?" One of the others asked, his voice malicious.

 

"Good question." The first advanced until he could reach out and touch Hannah, and then he did, running a finger down her cheek. "This one's pretty."

 

Harry knew that scent, and it made him sick…sick, and angry. His brain started to haze even as his mind reached for that strange feeling of 'dad' that was always hovering in the background. In his mind he screamed, wordless fear and anger, while his body focused on the lead snake. Before he was truly aware of what he was doing he'd pushed off from the lintel with a single powerful kick, and launched himself at the boy's head.

 

Not expecting an attack from above, the snake went down, hard. So hard that he cracked his head on the unforgiving stone of the floor with enough force to break the skin.

 

As the coppery scent of blood filled the air Severus swept around the corner…eight minutes early. Severus was never early…at least, not where the students could see him.

 

"What is going on here?" He asked, staring straight at his son. The child was falling quickly to blood-hunger, but the bond they shared paired with legillimency let Severus watch the exchange from Harry's eyes. In an instant he knew what had happened.

 

"We don't know sir. The kid attacked out of nowhere!" One of the Slytherins said immediately. "Just flew at Marcus…"

 

"Silence." Severus strode forwards, and physically pulled Harry off of the prone Slytherin even as he waved his wand at the door to unlock it. "Potter, go wait in my office." He hated it, but he had to use a firm voice, as nothing else would get through, not with that much blood on the ground. "All of you, take Flint to the Hospital Wing, and stay there." He paid them only enough attention to make sure they obeyed.

 

"s-Sir?" One of the Hufflepuffs whispered once the Slytherins were gone.

 

"Yes, Miss Bones?" Severus cleaned up the blood with a wave of his wand, and took care of the scent with another.

 

"The s-Slytherin was t-touc-ching h-Han-nah." She was shaking with the after effects of adrenaline, somewhere between fear, anger, and tears.

 

"I know." Severus said. "I will deal with him later. In the meantime go find seats and wait for me to return." He motioned them into the classroom, then swept past and into his office, eyes instantly coming to rest on Harry.

 

The child was a complete mess, shaking, pupils dilated. He'd already removed his hood, as there was no need in the windowless dungeon room, and his baby-fangs were glaringly obvious.

 

"I'm s-sor-ry f-fath-ther." He said, and Severus swept forwards to gather him in a hug. Harry was shaking violently, and Severus realized he wouldn't be able to function until he'd controlled the hunger.

 

Sighing internally, Severus cut his wrist and brought it to Harry's mouth, mentally calculating how long it would take before he could slip off to Hogsmeade and pick up some blood pops.

 

"Professor Snape?" The door to the classroom opened, and Rene poked her head in. She took in the tableau of now-angry Professor and completely oblivious child with blood on his lips, happily sucking away at said Professor's wrist, and snorted. "Right." She stepped into the room completely, closing the door behind her. "I'll handle Vampy here, you go teach your class."

 

"Miss Ivenson, I would appreciate it if you would refrain from use that nickname for my son." Severus said, still not moving. Rene pulled out her own penknife, slashed her wrist open with a practiced ease that disturbed Severus even as he noted that she placed the cut farther up on her arm and parallel instead of perpendicular. Though he knew he'd have to deal with the entire situation later he allowed her to pull Harry away from him and into her arms.

 

"Professor, if the House accepts his nickname they'll have fewer problems when they find out the truth. Trust me on this, okay?" She kicked him off the couch, and settled herself down in a pose so similar to what his own had been that Severus almost snorted…almost.

 

Deciding that he could do nothing but trust her, he healed his wrist and swept out of the room, though he kept part of his mind focused on Harry's mental state.

 

Rene settled onto the couch and waited for Harry's hunger to slack. Being just after breakfast, it didn't take long, and when she felt the flow of blood slowing she gently removed her wrist from his grip just long enough to close the wound, then let him lick it clean.

 

"Feeling better?" She asked, relaxing her arms as he reared back to stare at her. "I'm not going to hurt you. I'm not going to tell your secret." She left her arms open.

 

"Why?" He asked, fear heavy in his voice.

 

"Because I don't care what you are. I care who you are." She felt the familiar pressure of a vampire mind-touch, and let him graze over her emotions. "Also, my boyfriend's part vampire, though only a quarter, but he has the thirst so it amounts to the same thing." He relaxed back into her arms, knowing she spoke the truth from the emotions he read.

 

"Speaking of which, remind me to owl him tonight so he doesn't freak out. He'll have sensed that, even as far away as he is." She kept her tone light, and let her emotions tell him she wasn't worried at all.

 

"The Hat was right." Harry murmured.

 

"What's that hun?" Rene had a feeling she knew, but her curiosity ached for confirmation.

 

"The Hat said the only place I'd be accepted was Hufflepuff, the only place I'd survive." Harry tilted his head to look up at her.

 

"Well, I don't know about that, but you're definitely welcome." She kissed his hair, and cut off the twitch of sadness she felt when he didn't cringe away. Eleven-year-old boys shouldn't accept kisses, but here was another who did.

 

"Wait." Harry suddenly sat up. "What about potions?"

 

"Relax, I don't think Severus expects you to go. Besides, it hasn't started yet." Rene watched as Harry shot off the couch and sprinted to the door just as class started. She got up at a more leisurely pace and followed.

 

"Miss Ivenson, aren't you late for class?" Professor Snape asked as she passed him. Harry was sitting next to Hannah, who looked like she'd been crying.

 

"No. I've got a free period." Rene replied, stopping by the girl and pulling her into a quick hug. "I'll be waiting to walk you all to your next class." She whispered, and felt the child relax. Oh, when she got her hands on Flint…

 

"Well I do have a class. Ten points from Hufflepuff for disrupting it." Professor Snape's voice was irritated, but continued in a whisper, one carried by magic that only she could hear, as she scampered to the door. "And twenty points to Hufflepuff for going out of your way to help your housemates." She smirked as the door closed.

 

~~From the private correspondences of Rene Ivenson~~

 

Love,

He is half, he is a first year, and I've no doubt he would be delighted to meet you. He is also an eleven-year-old who accepts hugs and kisses as though they are new and wonderful things. More than any other I think of him as my child, especially now. You know what I mean.

Please, do not deny me this unless you have a very, very good reason to.

-RI

 

~~From the pages of You Wound Me Now Die~~

 

Thrall (cont.)

 

…

 

Of course, humans don’t know any of this unless they dance in Vampiric circles, which is how my dad ended up accidentally initiating such a bond, not that I’m complaining. Still, it had a few other side effects that weren’t as useful.

 

Throughout my time with Severus and especially for the first year I had an insistent need to touch him, to claim him as mine. Under normal circumstances this instinct was a protective measure that kept other vampires away from Thralls by marking them with scent and magic. Unfortunately, in my case the instinct backfired, resulting in behaviors that would have left me ostracized had it not been for the combined efforts of Hufflepuff House. All I knew was that everyone needed to know that Severus was MINE, but what I didn’t know, having grown up with as little physical contact as possible, is that eleven-year-olds don’t sit on their father’s lap in public… ever.

 

Suffice to say, looking back on my first years I’m quite surprised that so few students reacted negatively to me.

 

 

[1/17/11]
sSsSs
Remus Lupin
sSsSs

 

Harry was already in a bad mood when he made his way to the dungeons per his father’s instructions. He’d been grouchy since Defense Against the Dark Arts, where an overwhelming stench had set off his stomach. He was still ten feet from the door to his father's quarters when he heard the raised voices.

 

"He set me up to meet a full-grown, fully transformed werewolf!"

 

"So you betrayed the woman you loved and got her killed my a maniac?"

 

“I didn’t know it referred to her!”

 

“You served the Dark Lord!”

 

"I was an angsty, angry teenager who made a ridiculously bad decision!"

 

"So was he!"

 

"He bullied me from day one!"

 

"I'm not defending that, but try to see it from his point of view!"

 

"What, that all Slytherins are inherently evil?"

 

"No, that his family is traditionally Dark, his family wanted him in Slytherin, you were in Slytherin, and you were friends with the girl he had a crush on!"

 

"…"

 

"Severus?" The voice was softer, but Harry was closer, and could still hear it.

 

"He liked her too?"

 

"Yeah. Why do you think he went after Pettegrew instead of taking care of Harry? We all had crushes on her actually, but I knew she was for you. Werewolf nose."

 

"She…what? But, Potter."

 

"She never loved him, just tolerated him. She was hurt Severus."

 

“Wait, what do you mean about Black?”

 

“He loved the kid, but he couldn’t stand that Harry was James’ son. I think he’s only gotten over it by seeing James in Harry now. I’ve talked to him, and sometimes he slips, you know.” The other man sounded less angry and more sad.

 

Suddenly Harry realized that he was eavesdropping. Feeling a bit ashamed, though the overriding sensation in his gut was an overwhelming protectiveness, he reached up and knocked on the door.

 

"Come." He stepped in, closing the door behind him, and walked over to his father, wrapping his arms around the man's legs.

 

"If you hurt my father I will kill you." He said, turning to the werewolf, though he didn't let go of the legs he held. After meeting Mr. Kain there was no way he'd mistake that scent for anything else.

 

"I have no intention of hurting your father." The werewolf sank to his knees, tilting his head to the side, as Harry watched through slited eyes. He recognized the gesture of peace and submission for what it was because of Vlad's book. Wizards tended to think themselves above such things, but members of the marginalized societies kept to the old ways when it came to courtesies. It just made life easier, particularly when different species were involved, to use universal body language for important things such as 'I'm not a threat so don't attack me please'. If a wizard was too proud to kneel when he was obviously outmatched, well, he could just die.

 

Granted, the werewolf wasn't obviously outmatched at the moment, but kneeling had other uses, such as 'we got off on the wrong foot and I don't want to be in your little black book of death-when-possible'.

 

"Good." Harry grumbled, then relaxed. He was a quick study, and knew the proper response for 'non-violence pledge accepted'. Five steps took him into the man's range. A sixth and he had well violated the man's personal bubble. Harry reached with his right hand, and rested his fingers on the man's left pulse-point. Obligation completed he humphed back to his father and silently demanded he be picked up.

 

"Lupin, would you care to explain what that was?" Severus asked as he picked Harry up and settled into his favorite chair. Harry turned his head, and watched the werewolf seat himself on the couch.

 

"Nonhuman courtesies." Lupin said absently. "You probably know a few of them. Wizards call them the Old Courtesies, but have gotten too proud to follow them."

 

"I see." Severus turned to his son. "Harry, were on earth did you learn that?"

 

"The book Mister d'Eath gave me." Harry said, playing with his dad's buttons.

 

"Of course." He shook his head, and caught his son's hands. "Harry, I would like you to meet Remus Lupin. Lupin, this is Harry Potter. Harry, Lupin will be helping Black, who is your godfather, get over our school rivalry, which is what we were yelling about when you got here. I don't want you worrying about it, okay?"

 

"Mrr." Harry grumbled, burying his head in his father's robes.

 

"Harry! There you are! Hi, Professor." Rene chose that moment to poke her head in. "Grumpy, is he?"

 

"Do you know something I don't, Miss Ivenson?" Severus asked, slightly concerned at the abnormal behavior Harry was exhibiting.

 

"Yeah. Professor Quirrel keeps garlic in his turban. He is, apparently, afraid of a vampire he met… somewhere." Rene walked into the room and over to where Severus was sitting. "I've already spoken to the Headmaster with the help of Professors Sprout and McGonagall, and I'll be tutoring Harry and a Ravenclaw second-year who's also allergic." She leaned against the arm of the chair and started rubbing Harry's back.

 

"Harry's allergic to garlic?" Lupin asked from the couch.

 

"He doesn't know?" Rene asked Severus.

 

"No." Severus said calmly.

 

"I thought he was going to be watching Harry sometimes over the summer, that's why he was coming today, to see if they clicked." She continued calmly.

 

"That was the general idea." Severus wondered what she was doing.

 

"Well shouldn't you tell the babysitter about the baby's allergies and medical conditions?" She leaned in and grabbed Harry, who immediately started protesting. "Nope, sorry grumpy, but you're coming with me. Your dad has an adult to yell at, and you have homework." Just like that she carried him out.

 

"I want dad." Harry grumped quietly.

 

"I know you do love, but he has stuff to do, and so do you." Rene didn't let him down as she paced purposefully through the school.

 

"Grrr." Harry replied, and refused to acknowledge her after that.

 

Rene pushed open a pair of double-doors with her foot and hip, and carried Harry into the Hospital Wing, and through to Madame Pomfrey's office.

 

"Here he is." She said as she set herself in a chair.

 

"Hmm. Grumpy?" Madame Pomfrey smiled indulgently, something she'd never do if Harry were looking.

 

"Very." Rene rolled her eyes.

 

"Well." Madame Pomfrey tapped Harry on the head, and handed him a vial when he looked up. "Drink that, young man, or I will be displeased." She smirked as Harry slid the vial past his veil and downed it.

 

A few seconds later Harry perked up, then hunched over, wrapping his arms around his torso in a nervous gesture.

 

"I'm sorry Renny." He said, voice wavering.

 

"Hey, Vampy, look at me." Rene tilted his chin until she could see his eyes through the veil. "No harm done. You were being poisoned. That's bound to make anyone grumpy." She pulled him close, and smiled when his arms wrapped around his neck.

 

"All better now?" Madame Pomfrey asked.

 

"Yes Madame Pomfrey." Harry said. "Thank you."

 

"Any time child." She hustled the two out.

 

"Wanna walk, or should I carry you some more?" Rene asked teasingly. She was surprised and saddened when Harry immediately lifted his arms to be picked up.

 

~~From the private correspondences of Rene Ivenson~~

 

Heart-mine,

I freely admit to having been worried, but your letter assuaged my fears. I support you in this, and will visit as soon as I can take the time.

I do know what you mean, and my heart weeps. What is in my power to fix will be.

Keep me appraised.

-PR

 

 

[1/18/11]
sSsSs
Study Group
sSsSs

 

"Found him." Rene flopped down on the transfigured couch in the abandoned classroom and smiled at the small Ravenclaw waiting with her Defense book open on her lap. The girl looked up and smiled shyly.

 

"Hi." She whispered.

 

"Brittany, Harry. Harry, Brittany. Play nice." Rene grinned and tapped the book in Brittany's hand. "Brit, run me through what you know."

 

The next hour was a concentrated Defense lesson. Harry found himself entranced by what Rene was teaching Brittany, or Bit, as that's what 'Renny' called her, and had no problem following along. Therefore, the three decided that they would cover second-year material during their assigned study time, and Harry would work with Rene after curfew on first-year material if and when he needed help.

 

So it was that an hour passed, and it was time for dinner. The trio walked to the Great Hall together, and both Harry and Rene immediately scanned the Head table. Severus wasn't there, nor was Lupin. The other Hufflepuff firsties, on the other hand, were there, gathered at the far end of the table.

 

Hannah was the first to see Harry and Rene enter the Great Hall, and she waved them both over, grinning happily.

 

"Hey Hanners, how ya doin?" Rene asked, flopping into an open seat.

 

"Much better." Hannah said, turning back to her food. "Where were you, Harry?"

 

"Renny's tutoring me in Defense along with a Ravenclaw second-year 'cause we're both allergic to garlic." Harry shrugged as food appeared on his plate.

 

"Which would be why you get food sent up special, right?" Justin asked, scooping out seconds of the mashed potatoes.

 

"Precisely." Rene grinned, loading her own plate with lots of salad and a little meat. "Now, ladies and gents, Hufflepuff tends to have a problem with bullies, and as you've learned already there are a few unsavory types in the school. Therefore, the entire house has physical training on weekends, and there are physical defense classes for all the girls and any boys who want to join two or three nights a week depending on the upper years' schedules. Vampy, I'd suggest you join. Flint's gonna be out for your blood after this morning."

 

Harry shrugged. He was used to people wanting to hurt him, though Flint was a lot more dangerous than Dudley had been.

 

"Heh. Vampy." Hannah grinned. "That's so cute!" She glomped Harry, and he let her.

 

"You really are going to stick me with that nickname, aren't you." It wasn't a question, and Harry didn't even pretend it was.

 

"Yup!" Rene grinned and set to eating with relish.

 

oOoOo

 

Harry groaned as he fell into bed. Self-defense class was a good idea…in theory. In practice, well… it wasn't that Harry was out of shape or anything, but the standard test of fitness was a run from the potions classroom to the top of the astronomy tower. Apparently the best defense was being able to run so he'd spent an hour running. Then the next best defense was quickly incapacitating your attacker… and then running so he'd spent another half-hour learning how to trample insteps, kick groins, bruise solar-plexi, and break noses...in the company of every Hufflepuff female, and four other guys. The best part was that he'd get to do it again in two days, only longer, as that would be a weekend session.

 

On the other hand, Harry was quite thoroughly convinced that Hufflepuffs looked out for each other, and he'd gone, in the course of a little over a month, from having no friends and an abusive family to having a really cool father, a crazy, disturbing godfather, and more recently an entire House of friends. On the whole he was rather happy with how things had turned out.

 

"Hey Harry! You going to sleep already?" Justin called through the curtains, disturbing Harry’s half-asleep musings.

 

"Unggggg!" Harry replied.

 

"We were gonna meet up with the girls in the common room and work on the essay for Professor Snape." Justin reminded him. With a groan Harry rolled off the bed, grabbed a clean pair of pants, shirt, gloves, slipper-boots, and hooded-jacket. He pulled everything on, wincing as his abused muscles complained, and grabbed his school bag. A quick check told him everything was covered, not that he was worried as it was well after sunset, but he had to play a part, and he slipped out of his 'room', and joined the other boys on their way to the common room.

 

"Hey lads. Glad you could join us!" Susan hollered, waving wildly, and showing almost no signs of having just been through what Harry had. Of course, the girls hadn't been run quite as hard, as they didn't have a pack of Slytherins out for their guts. (Ian managed to overhear a conversation that made Hufflepuff house unhappy.)

 

"Yeah, well, Vampy was all sore and tired from whatever it was you ladies did to him." Ernie said. Harry absently noticed a few of the older students giving each other looks, and shook his head. Trust Ernie, the pureblood heir to the MacMillan clan, to shout innuendoes across the common room.

 

"You had to stick the poor boy with 'Vampy'?" Harry swung his head to the left, and saw Tonks standing over Rene, hands on her hips, a scowl on her face.

 

"It's better than any number I've heard, and most definitely superior to 'The-Boy-Who-Lived'." Rene said calmly. "Now leave me alone before I change your nick to 'Tripper' again."

 

"I much prefer 'Pinky'." Tonks put in a parting shot as she tripped to the other side of the common room.

 

Harry couldn't help it, he laughed, even as he flopped onto the floor in front of the fire with the other firsties and pulled out his potions book.

 

"Essay's on the boil-cure we cooked up today, right?" Harry muttered, opening his book to the appropriate page.

 

"Yeah." Zacharias spoke up, his own book already open.

 

"And why exactly are we doing this now?" Harry grumbled, absently flicking the soft end of his quill against the join of hood and veil. "Now, when I could be sleeping?"

 

"Because bedtime for firsties isn't for another half-hour?" Tonks called over to them. Harry turned to glare at her, but cracked up instead. She'd managed to morph her ears into monstrosities of elephantine proportion that, apparently, picked up everything in the common room.

 

"Quiet you." Harry groused, turning back to his book.

 

Ten minutes later he gave up with a snort of disgust, and packed his bag. He couldn’t focus very well, and his eyes kept closing of their own accord. The girls, contrary to their outward appearance, weren’t doing much better, but when Harry asked if they were going to pack up all four of them shook their heads. They were, apparently, going to stick it out until the upper years made them go to bed.

 

With a shrug, Harry took his stuff upstairs and got ready for bed. Because of his 'condition' Harry had a personal shower/toilet/sink room-type-thing attached to his…cubicle. He availed himself of every piece of equipment in it and collapsed into his warm, comfortable, soft, delightful bed. As he fell asleep he realized that, despite not getting much work done, being rousted from bed had reminded him how disgusting he felt, so at least one good thing came of it.

 

oOoOo

 

"You're Harry Potter! You're famous." Harry looked at the bushy-haired Gryffindor who'd popped up in front of him without a by your leave. "I've read all about you, of course." He finished pulling out his transfigurations textbook and centered it on his desk before responding.

 

"Your delightfully overbearing personality leaves much to be desired, and your effluvium of declarations is entirely too banal for my tastes." Harry cut her off, intentionally picking a number of words he doubted even she knew - unless she'd read a dictionary too, of course.

 

The girl stared. "Did you just insult me?"

 

"That is a distinct possibility." Harry shrugged, "of course, if I did it was only in response to your insult to me."

 

"Insult?" She looked entirely too confused, and Harry sighed internally.

 

"We were never properly introduced, and you insisted on starting this plebian little interview without observing the appropriate formalities." Harry grinned at her as though the words that had spilled from his mouth were typical for an eleven-year-old.

 

"Huh?" She looked at him, and he guessed that she was unfamiliar with the word plebian. "Oh. I'm Hermione Granger." She shoved her hand in his face.

 

"You are also…" Harry paused, wondering why he was so angry with her. Forcing his irritation down he took the hand, rising as he did so. "Nevermind. I am Harry Potter." He bowed over her hand slightly, neither groveling nor slighting, then looked into her eyes, making sure she saw his through the veil before continuing. "And if you ever tell me who or what I am again I will insult you creatively enough that you'll have to spend a month researching in the library before you even begin to understand what I've said."

 

Miss Granger managed a credible imitation of a fish as Harry sat back down.

 

"You have a mind like a trap, Miss Granger," Harry added, his mind connecting a few facts as satisfaction overrode the lingering traces of anger. He’d heard a number of rumors about her, most of them couched in unflattering terms. "With a slight attitude adjustment you would make a good diplomat. I recommend you read Customs and Courtesies of the Old Blood by Lestat Düräns." He paused, adding, "The Vladimir translation," as an afterthought.

 

"Uh. Oh. Okay." She stumbled away as Professor McGonagall entered, effectively ending all conversation.

 

Ernie shoved a note under his nose less than a minute later.

 

Did you just send her to read a Vampire's translation of a Were-elf's book on the Old Courtesies?

 

Of course. Harry scribbled before shoving the note back at his friend. 

 

 

 

[1/18/11]
sSsSs
The First Status Report
sSsSs

 

"Vampy!" Arms wrapped around Harry and picked him up. A body inserted itself between him and the bench, and he ended up, rather expectedly, in a warm, comfortable lap.

 

"Renny!" Harry said, wriggling into a more snuggly position and making no move to remove himself from what most eleven-year-olds would consider a wretchedly embarrassing position.

 

"Done eating?" Rene looked pointedly at his half-eaten eggs and toast, and he snatched a hasty bite.

 

"Oy, V." Zacharias had, apparently, had enough. "Why're you letting her treat you like a little kid? Aren't you embarrassed?"

 

"Huh?" Harry looked over. "No. It's kind of nice. Strange, but nice." He went back to his food.

 

"But…" Having his main point completely ignored didn't seem to sit well with the overbearing boy. "But you're eleven!"

 

"And?" Harry looked over, a bit concerned.

 

"And? And! She's treating you like a five-year-old!" Zacharias exploded.

 

"Really?" Harry looked from Zacharias to Rene and back. "I wouldn't know." He took another bite, sighing happily when Rene's arms wrapped even further around him.

 

Absorbed in the feeling of arms around him, the scent of someone completely unafraid of who and what he was, Harry missed the glances that Zacharias and Ernie traded. Glances that traveled through the entire first-year Hufflepuff class…except him.

 

Rene didn't miss the looks, and mouthed 'later' when she'd caught the boys' eyes. Perhaps it wasn’t right of her to push the issue, but she knew what they didn’t: To get the entire Sett involved they would need a triggering report or incident, and she wanted to get the Sett behind her Harry before it was too late. So what if the sneaking around and calculating was all Slytherin. She could deal with her Slytherin attributes. They were even useful sometimes.

 

oOoOo

 

"Where's Harry?" Ernie asked, looking around Rene to make sure the small boy wasn't hiding, though, he had to admit, he might not have noticed if he was under her robes. Really, he was pathetically small, puny even.

 

"I left him tackling a few years off Professor Snape's life." Rene said, calmly transfiguring the furniture in the (oh the irony) transfigurations classroom into couches and plush chairs.

 

"You will put my room back when you're done, won't you?" Professor McGonagall asked as she walked through the room to her office.

 

"Of course Professor." Rene said with a negligent wave. Only Hannah noticed the almost maternal smirk that crossed their professor's face as she disappeared.

 

"Alright." Zach rounded on Rene, eyes stormy, lips compressed. "Why do you treat him like he's five? He's not a child!"

 

"One, sit." Rene pointed to a chair, and waited. Zach wavered, not wanting to his position with his 'opponent' still standing, and wanting to obey the prefect at the same time. None of the others had that problem, and neither did Zach when Ernie pulled him down.

 

"Better." Rene settled herself on a chair that was just a little firmer than the others she'd transfigured, and therefore left her well above the, admittedly rather cute, first years. "To answer your question: It's none of your business. If Harry ever has a problem with how I treat him all he has to do is tell me, and I'll stop." She raised a hand before they could interrupt. "I am well aware of his reluctance to tell people when he's uncomfortable, but his body isn't. The thing about holding someone is that you can tell when they're unhappy, even when they wander around shrouded from head to toe."

 

"True." Megan spoke up, though her voice was still quiet and unassuming; as though she wanted absolutely no notice whatsoever. "Both my little sibs get quite squirmy when they want to be put down. They don't actually say anything though." She trailed off, obviously thinking about something in the past.

 

"Remember the first night?" Justin added suddenly. "He wriggled out of Professor Snape's arms."

 

"Okay, so we know he doesn't mind, but why doesn't he mind!" Zacharias jumped up from his seat. "He's eleven, for the sake of Merlin in a field of daisies!"

 

"Boom-boom, sit down." Rene said, her voice sharp. Zacharias spluttered.

 

"Did you just call me Boom-boom?" He stared at her, rant completely forgotten.

 

"And I'll continue doing so until you learn to think before you speak, listen to what others have to say, and understand that not everyone feels exactly as you do, nor cares about the same things." Rene stared at him, and he found himself sitting without really understanding why his body had started moving, though he figured fear was probably as good a guess as any.

 

"But why doesn't he mind?" Zacharias' voice was, for the first time in his memory, more plaintive than angry or aggressive. "He's eleven. It's not right."

 

"Why don't you let him be the judge of that?" Rene said compassionately, and Zacharias nodded, though reluctantly. "After all, it is his choice."

 

"I gue-es." Zacharias did not look happy.

 

"What you can do is protect him from the other students, who won't be as nice. Remember, Hufflepuffs stick together." She smiled at the, then frowned when she saw a look pass between Hannah, Susan, and Justin. "What?"

 

"You're not going to like it." Susan said, unwilling to meet Rene's eyes.

 

"There are a lot of things I don't like. Spill." Rene said.

 

"Well, no one's said anything to Harry yet, but…" Susan started, looking everywhere but at Rene.

 

"What she's trying to say is that Ron Weasley's being a prat." Hannah stepped in. "We overheard him complaining that Harry was getting special treatment, that he's a daddy's boy, a pansy, and that he can't be the Boy-Who-Lived because no Savior-of-the-Wizarding-World would ever, in a million years be in Hufflepuff, and he must just be an attention-seeking, spoiled, rich brat."

 

"He said something about how Neville Longbottom is more likely to be the Savior-of-the-Wizarding-World," Justin used the same inflection as Hannah, firmly emphasizing the capitals and hyphens, "than Harry."

 

"Draco Malfoy said some stuff too…so I pointed out that he was agreeing with a Weasley, and being politically incorrect while he's at it. He's been strangely quiet since." Ernie said, a glint of something like amusement-laced irritation in his voice. Why was it that pureblood (non blood-traitor) children knew the term 'politically incorrect' by the time they were six?

 

"Right. We're calling a Sett Council." Rene stood up and walked over to Professor McGonagall's desk. She pulled out a quill and blank parchment, and scribed a quick note, waving her wand to duplicate it four times. "Ernie, take this to Will. He should be in the common room, but if he's not check the Great Hall." She handed him one of the pages. "Hannah, Susan, these two go to Illy and Se-Se. Illy should be in the third classroom to the left on the second floor, Se-Se's probably in dungeon five with the third-years doing DADA practice, so be careful going in." She handed out two pieces of paper. "Wayne, Anton's in the Great Hall, Boom-boom, Ian should be with the Head Boy, fifth door on the right from the painting of the ballerinas on the fourth floor." Pages handed out she sent the five off, turning to look at Justin, Megan, and Annabelle.

 

"What's a Sett council?" Annabelle asked quietly.

 

"It's where everyone in Hufflepuff gets together to discuss a problem and how we want to deal with it." Rene smiled. "In this case we're going to discuss how to protect Harry, so he's not going to be there, and no one can tell him it happened."

 

"But why does he need protection?" Annabelle asked, and Rene remembered that she was both muggleborn and not very bookish.

 

"It's a long story, and not for right now. I'll make sure you get an explanation soon, okay?" Rene waited for Annabelle's nod before continuing. "Now, Megan, Justin, would you two please go check the Quidditch Pitch? I don't think our team's still out there, but if they are tell them to hurry up, and don't forget to check the locker room." The two nodded to Rene, then turned and ran out.

 

"Annabelle, do you remember where the kitchens are?" Rene leaned against Professor McGonagall's desk to make herself less imposing. The muggleborn was a bit jumpy at times.

 

"Yeah." She did, however, have a good memory for places, even when they moved.

 

"Okay, please go to the kitchens and ask the elves to send Hufflepuff's food to the Sett Council Room tonight instead of the house table." Rene smiled as the girl's eyes widened.

 

"You mean we're allowed to do that?" She asked.

 

"Normally no, but I'll be talking to Professor Sprout, and I want you to show them this." She handed the girl her Head Girl badge. "Just remember to give it back, and use 'Sett Council Room', not 'Hufflepuff common room' or anything else. 'Sett Council Room'." She winked.

 

Annabelle looked at the badge, looked at Rene, straightened her shoulders, nodded, and ran out.

 

"Would you like me to warn Pomona or Severus?" Rene turned her head to look at Professor McGonagall.

 

"Hmm. Care to take the Snarky Git and his son out for dinner? Or at least eat in someone's quarters tonight?" Rene grinned.

 

"I do believe I would enjoy a more relaxed environment tonight." Professor McGonagall swept out.

 

oOoOo

 

Harry and his dad were just getting ready to head to the Great Hall for dinner when Professor McGonagall swept dramatically in.

 

"Come Severus." She said, giving them no chance to argue. "You, that ridiculously cute child of yours, and I are going out for dinner."

 

"Um…" Severus was shocked to say the least.

 

"Oh can we dad? Please?" Harry begged, turning to face him and pull on his robes, puppy-eyes barely seen behind his veil.

 

"Oh, alright." Severus sighed. He really couldn't say no to the child.

 

 

[1/19/11]
sSsSs
Sett Council
sSsSs

 

"Minerva, Severus, what brings you here?" The proprietor of Madame Puddifoot's floated over to the pair that had just entered before noticing their third and much smaller companion.

 

"Taking a student out? How unlike both of you." She raised an eyebrow, inviting explanation.

 

"Leanne, this is Severus' son, Harry. Harry, Leanne is the proprietor of this fine establishment. I recommend you avoid it at all costs on Hogsmeade weekends." Minerva introduced child and adult with a smile on her face.

 

"Ah, Vampy, right?" Leanne grinned at the shocked looks on both adults' faces. "What? It's traditional for the Head Students to come out here once or twice a week to discuss sensitive material. They rent one of the back rooms, and the three of us gossip for an hour or so. I let them know who likes to snog where, and believe me I hear more than I want to, and they bring me up to speed on internal affairs."

 

"And Miss Ivenson felt the need to tell you her nickname for my son?" Severus grumbled.

 

"Dad, the same principle applies here as at Hogwarts." Harry looked up at Severus, a note of annoyance in his voice. "I'm going to have to hug Renny when we get back."

 

"Yes, yes. Hungry?" Distracting a child with food was always a good idea.

 

"Tea first." Leanne smirked, leading them to a secluded table with a good view of the rest of the room.

 

oOoOo

 

The firsties of the Hufflepuff Sett watched with awe as their sprints through the castle and grounds reaped strange and amazing results. Professor Sprout activated set-magic, (old, powerful magic that only needs to be activated, not re-cast to have effect) that prevented the rest of the school from noticing the fact that every single Hufflepuff missed dinner. A trap door in the middle of the common room was revealed, and the house, minus Harry, climbed down into a large room.

 

A giant, round, donut-table sat in the center of the room. The entrance was in one corner, and the far wall had a table with dinner, plates and goblets stacked to one side, and silverware was already set on the table.

 

"Everyone get food and sit down." Rene took charge as soon as the door was closed, though only the firsties actually needed the instruction as everyone else had been through at least one Sett Council before.

 

There was an orderly dash for food, and within five minutes everyone had a plate in front of them. Seating had, per usual, settled with the lower years in yearmate-clumps, diverse upper years separating each grouping. The only exception to this was the first-years, who were split four and four around Rene.

 

For a few minutes the only sound was of silverware clicking against plates as everyone took the edge off their hunger. It was only when Rene was half-done with her own meal that she stood up. While no one stopped eating entirely, the focus of the room turned to her with no hesitation. What little conversation there was ceased abruptly.

 

"First, this is not our yearly Sett Council." Rene's voice was firm and carrying, and she spoke with an authority most didn't see from her on a regular basis. "Those of you who were here two years ago when a secondary Council was called should already recognize why we are here." Nods from everyone third-year and above. "Our firsties know as well because it is one of their own who requires the protection of the Sett, and they were the ones to bring the situation to my attention.

 

"You are all well aware that the Boy-Who-Lived shocked the wizarding world by being Sorted into Hufflepuff, but we do not have the Boy-Who-Lived in our Sett." Rene looked around the table. Whether she met everyone's eyes or just made them think she had, the result was the same: absolute, undivided attention. "We have Harry Potter, adopted son of Severus Snape, afflicted with xeroderma pigmentosum, nicknamed Vampy for that reason." She looked around, and this time she did meet everyone's eyes.

 

"What I am about to say stays here. If I find that anyone has spoken of this outside of this room, or even in Mister Potter's presence I will be angry." The threat in the air, for everyone but the first-years, was that when Rene was angry so too was her boyfriend, and the two of them had, quietly, sought revenge for every injury to a Hufflepuff starting in her third year. They had succeeded.

 

"I don't know much about Mister Potter's home life save that it was bad enough for Severus Snape to remove him from it. What I do know is this: He was sent to live with muggle relatives, hidden from the wizarding world, and not checked on…ever." She looked down for a second as though debating whether to say what she wanted, then looked up. "That is all you need to know. He is one of ours, and we will protect him. I understand that his behavior is not normal, and I don’t care. However you may feel as individuals about him, you will protect him from those who would harm him. We protect our own!”

 

"We, the first-years, have overheard people talking, and we don't like it." Hannah stood as she spoke, and was very obviously trying to keep her voice calm. "From Gryffindor, Ron Weasley has called Harry a 'pansy', and a 'daddy's boy'. He believes that Harry can't be the Boy-Who-Lived because he's a Hufflepuff, and said 'Neville Longbottom is more likely to be the Boy-Who-Lived because at least he's a Gryffindor'." She looked over at Ernie, who stood as she sat.

 

"We're sure that after he's had potions Weasley will add being Professor Snape's son to the list of reasons why Harry can't be the Boy-Who-Lived." He looked around, a slight dent in his lip the only indication that he was nervous. "We've also heard similar things from Draco Malfoy, though he's shut up since I told him he was being politically incorrect and agreeing with a Weasley."

 

"So, we have three problems." Rene stood up again, and Ernie sat. "One: Vampy does not behave like a normal child. Two: He is facing the disappointment of the entire wizarding world because he was sorted into Hufflepuff. Three: He suffers from a medical condition that simulates vampirism.

 

"I am already taking steps to counter the third by giving him the nickname 'Vampy'. If people get used to considering him a vampire in an affectionate context they'll be less likely to credit people who try to convince them that he really is, or that he's a 'dangerous beast'. The other two, however, are a bit more of a problem. I would also like to note that his nickname cannot, can not reach the ears of the Ministry. A number of adults are aware of it, and those of the Sett are, but no one else. Outside of the Sett he should be ‘Harry,’ ‘V,’ or something else along those lines." She looked around, and a third-year raised his hand. "Mister Anders?"

 

"You all know my…ex…family is close with the Malfoys?" Anders, and that was his first name, spoke carefully, every word attesting to his pureblood upbringing. He had, of course, been disowned as soon as he was sorted into Hufflepuff. "Though I've been severed from my blood relatives, Missus Malfoy was kind enough to remain in contact. I can appeal to her, and ask her to ask Mister Malfoy to correct his son's behavior. Draco may be spoiled, but he's a pureblood, and if his father is upset with him he will change his behavior." He sat.

 

"Thank you. Would you write the letter now so I can make a copy before you send it? Knowing how to write that sort of missive would be useful for everyone." He nodded, and a house-elf, invisible until that moment, popped over to him with parchment, ink, and a quill.

 

Tonks raised her hand next.

 

"Miss Tonks?" Rene regained her seat, and attention turned to the clumsy, currently orange-haired seventh-year.

 

"For those of you who don't know, my job is to watch the Weasleys, and has been since Oran graduated four years ago." She took a deep breath before continuing, "I haven't had enough time to watch the youngest boy, but I can make a few guesses. One: While being considered a blood-traitor by pureblood society doesn't necessarily mean giving up the old ways, the Weasleys have. Not only that, but even if they hadn't they have too many kids to teach, and not even Bill and Charlie know the proper courtesies, though they get along well enough by avoidance. Percy is learning of his own accord, but he's their black sheep. Fred and George don't care, but are already making a name for themselves.

 

"Now, Ron Weasley has a lot to live up to: Head Boy, Captain of the Gryffindor Quidditch team, Prefect, and premier pranksters. Knowing large families, he's jealous. I wouldn't be surprised if he were jealous of Harry's assumed wealth and pampered life, because we all know what we thought he'd be like before we met him." The look she threw around the table made quite a few students blush.

 

"Now, Gryffindors in general, and Weasleys in particular, don't respond well to threats, and obviously don't listen to their parents about respect and house unity, therefore we need to out-maneuver Ron. I've been thinking of a strategy that has a chance in the nine hells, firsties you didn't hear me swear, of working, and I can only think of one thing. We have to prove to the rest of the school that Ron is an ignorant prat that opens his mouth without knowing what he's talking about, and not worth listening to. If we can get his brothers to publicly denounce him for his prejudices, well, that’s even better." Tonks sat down amongst congratulatory mutterings.

 

"Perfect." Ian stood from his position directly across the table from Rene. "Second years? First years? Focus on one or two first years from each of the other houses, and convince them that Weasley's an ignorant prat. Let them spread it to their yearmates, but if they seem to be failing give them a hand. Third years? I want you focusing on the Weasley twins, except Anders, who will focus on Malfoy with the fifth years' help. Fourth, get Percy Weasley. Sixth and seventh will help where needed." He sat down.

 

"Anything else?" Rene asked, standing and looking around. "No? Alright, split into your work-groups and strategize. Standard procedure is to check in with a seventh-year at least twice a week so pick who you're going to report to and bring them in. Seventh years will report to Ian or myself at least three times a week, and they'll let you know if anything happens.

 

~~From the private correspondences of Rene Ivenson~~

 

Love,

We've run into a number of problems with Child and his reception by the school. We could use your input. Keep me appraised of your situation, and I'll call a meeting when you arrive.

-RI

 

~~From the Unabridged Hufflepuff Handbook~~

 

It should be noted that, while self-updating, the Unabridged Hufflepuff Handbook is written in a meandering, diary-like style that aggrieves and annoys many a reader, as its information is anything but concise. Most who read it come to the conclusion that it was created by a spell gone only slightly wrong, and that the Founder refused to fix it, as reading it proved a good exercise in patience for her students.

 

Since the splitting of the school Hufflepuffs have found themselves bullied and dismissed. It is a sad fact that hard work and loyalty, when not combined with extraordinary talent, are dismissed and even derided. As such the Sett developed a number of useful defenses.

 

A number of alumni in each generation spend years learning modern, muggle defensive strategies as well as physical training regimens, and teach upper years during the summer. This has been in place since the very founding of the house. These strategies and regimens are integrated into classes that are mandatory for all females and optional for all males. The skills taught in the classes give individual Hufflepuffs an edge during confrontations. However, that edge is not enough.

 

Within a few years of the late Helga Hufflepuff’s death a new measure was added. Utilizing the room beneath the common room, which was the domain of Hufflepuff herself, the leaders of the house started holding yearly and occasionally more frequent meetings. Some meetings were among a small number of students, some among the entire house. Each meeting had a general goal, and as time progressed the Sett Council was formed.

 

In times of relative ease the Sett Council rarely meets, usually only once directly after the winter holidays. At that meeting all members of the Sett check in, and those assigned to watch other houses or families report in. As well replacements for those soon graduating are chosen, giving them a semester-long apprenticeship.

 

The Watchers, as they are called, are usually benign. Their main purpose is to guard against unexpected attacks. After all, to know someone is to predict whether they will become enemy or friend. However, in times of stress the Watchers become something more. Spies, sleeper agents, they can, when necessary, become agents of blackmail, or even, on the rarest of occasions, agents of death (for full details on the three incidents requiring permanent removal of a student see An Unabridged History of Hufflepuff House).

 

The primary goal of a Watcher is to gather information. Utilizing common sense in earlier years and muggle psychology in the last few generations, Watchers have compiled data on the students of other houses: What makes them tick. Who are their friends, their enemies. What traits do they have. Over time this data (collected in an open, friendly manner about the members of Hufflepuff House as well) has allowed the House to track trends, and even, on rare occasions, to predict the rise of Dark Forces.

 

There is another function of the Watchers, however, and it falls between information gathering and execution. When necessary, the Watchers can aid any single member of the House by making impotent any and every source of aggression against them. When this is necessary it is often an uphill battle, and occasionally fails, but through a combination of knowledge and blackmail they can (usually) succeed in removing social pressure from an outcast until such time as the outcast can stand on their own.

 

 

[1/19/11]
sSsSs
It’s Working
sSsSs

 

~~From the personal correspondences of Rene Ivenson~~

 

Heart-Mine,

I have arranged to spend this weekend at Hogwarts. As well I may return on Halloween should it prove necessary. I will arrive at dinner tonight.

I hope you are well. Our letters have been much about Child and little about you. Perhaps we shall also take some time to renew our relationship? I look forward to our reunion.

-PR

 

~~End Correspondence~~

 

"Oompf." A small body landed on Severus' shoulders and back, causing him to stagger…in front of his mixed class of first-year Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws…minus…

 

"Hi dad!" Harry's grinning voice shouted into Severus' ear.

 

"Right. Don't forget to look up." Severus said, his words one giant sigh. At least the other students looked horrified. Really, this whole ‘attack Severus whenever possible’ game was getting a little old.

 

"What're we doing in class today?" Harry gabbled.

 

"Nothing if you don't get down and act your age." Severus replied, keeping his voice light, but backed with parental firmness. He wanted to growl and he didn’t at the same time. It was an entirely strange and uncomfortable state of being, though he was getting used to it.

 

"Okay!" Severus could hear the grin in Harry's voice as he slid to the ground and retrieved his bag from Wayne.

 

Severus looked at the ceiling as though asking for patience, and motioned the first years into the room. Hannah patted his arm as she passed, and he looked at her in surprise. She winked.

 

He was less surprised to see a note scrawled at the top of the homework she handed in.

 

We go to classes as a group. Count us.

 

Hannah was watching him, and he nodded to let her know he'd gotten her message. Of course, being told how to find out whether he was about to be tackled by his wayward son by a first-year Hufflepuff was – pathetic.

 

The class wrapped up with no explosions, a positive side effect of having a class comprised of students that didn't hate each other.

 

"Miss Abbott, please stay behind." Severus released the rest of the class, knowing that at least two Hufflepuffs would wait outside the room.

 

The others cleared out as Hannah stayed in her seat, and Severus… frowned less… to let her know she wasn't in trouble. Only when the door closed did he speak.

 

"Thank you for the tip." He started, immediately regretting it. He was never as harsh on the Hufflepuffs as he was on the Gryffindors: The ‘puffs tried hard, even when they failed. Still, he didn’t actually need the tip. He didn’t. Really.

 

"No problem!" She quipped, grinning.

 

"I have a question you might be able to answer." He pulled two pieces of homework from the stack on his desk, and showed them to her. She scanned them, confused, then a grin spread on her face.

 

"Exactly what they say." She sniggered, actually sniggered. "Mind if I copy those down?"

 

"Feel free. I'm assuming this has something to do with my son?" He watched her pull out parchment and a self-inking quill, scrawling letters appearing with practiced ease. He watched her, grudgingly impressed. It had taken him years to be that comfortable with a quill, though he’d not been able to afford self-inking ones until after his Hogwarts days.

 

"Mmhmm."

 

Professor Snape,

Weasley protection does not apply to the youngest male. There will be no reprisals for excessive detentions or removal of points, though the former is preferred.

-Fred and George

 

"And that they're serious, as they signed their given names and called me professor without being under duress."

 

"Probably."

 

Professor Snape,

I know of the note written to you by the twins. I too find myself disgusted by my youngest brother's ignorance, arrogance, and prejudice. I have owled our mother, but fear she will not have the proper impact.

 

Percy's…note took up half the parchment, and Severus's mind wandered as Hannah continued to transcribe it. Slight noises told him there were three first-years waiting for her, and that one of them was his son.

 

They were going to be late for their next class at this rate. Severus sighed, and wrote a note to Professor Flitwick, letting him know why four of his students were late. He had no clue why he was doing it save that his son was part of the group. At the same time he realized that he’d do it anyways. He was quite obviously going soft.

 

To conclude, I ask that you take whatever steps necessary to…as my brothers would say, give him hell – within the bounds of what is appropriate, of course. Try not to be excessive or others will back him, but make sure he knows his attitude is not appreciated.

I will be sending a copy of this, appropriately modified for tone and word choice, to each of his professors.

Sincerely,

Percy Weasley

 

"Done." Hannah tucked the parchment away and grinned. "Do you have any NEWT classes today?"

 

"The seventh years are next, why?" Severus asked, then realized.

 

"Oh, perfect." She pulled the parchment out. "Give this to Renny?" She grabbed the quill and ink from his desk, as she'd put hers away, and scrawled a hasty RI on the outside.

 

"If you take much longer you're going to be late." He drawled. She passed him the parchment, and he handed her the tardy note. She looked at it, looked at him, and grinned.

 

"You're doomed." She said, and if he had to place her voice he'd call it a mix of amused and evil.

 

"Pardon?" He blinked.

 

"You're doomed." She flounced to the door. "Giving tardy notes to the entire group and not just the person you held behind? Doomed. No more evil bat of the dungeons. Poof." She opened the door and slipped through.

 

"Hey Harry, Susan, Justin." Hannah let the door close behind her and grinned at the three who'd waited. "Let's go. I've got a note, so we don't have to run."

 

As they walked down the hall they passed the NEWT students, and Rene looked at them with a raised eyebrow.

 

"I had a problem with my homework, so Professor Snape held me back. They waited." Hannah shrugged. "We have a note." Rene nodded, and the four firsties continued on to charms.

 

Harry was twitching a little, and when they were about to step into the charms corridor he froze.

 

"Why did my dad really hold you back?" He asked rather abruptly. "I know there wasn't a problem with your essay that would have made him do that."

 

"I asked him to." Hannah said immediately. "I had a question I really didn't want to ask in front of the class." She shifted slightly, and didn't completely look him in the eye. After all, she was only eleven, and That was an – embarrassing topic for an eleven year old, even if it was a lie.

 

"Oh." Harry, unlike most boys, was well aware of the female – problem. It was, in fact, the only kind of blood he could smell and not go nuts. He hadn't smelled it on her, but he hadn't been looking, and he had smelled it on Annabelle, so Hannah might have been asking for her. "Okay."

 

Charms was with the Gryffindors. Because they came in late Harry didn't realize anything was different, but the other firsties noticed the covert glances Neville, Dean, and Seamus were sending Harry's way. This wasn't good. Harry had no clue what Hufflepuff House was doing for him, and might not understand why.

 

Susan scribbled a quick note, talk to us first, and sent it along the lines of desks to the curious lions. When she got a nod from Seamus, who seemed to be the leader of the group, she relaxed a little.

 

Harry walked to dinner with most of the other firsties, though Susan, Hannah, Justin, and Wayne stayed behind to do…something. He knew it wasn't to talk to Professor Flitwick because the professor had already started grading papers, but Harry wasn't going to worry about it. He'd noticed a general change in the emotion-scent of most of the school a few days ago, and decided he really didn't want to worry about it.

 

When the missing Hufflepuffs entered the Great Hall it was with three Gryffindor boys. A single spike of fury-scent whipped Harry's head towards the Gryffindor table where Ron Weasley was staring at the Gryffindors with stormclouds in his eyes.

 

As the Gryffindors approached their table there was a sharp increase in tension, enough that the other students started to notice. Heads turned all around the hall, eyes flicking back and forth between the three boys and the one. It was as though a tsunami was poised, frozen, above the hall, quivering to be unleashed.

 

Ron Weasley rose.

 

 

[1/20/11]
sSsSs
Facepalm
sSsSs

 

~~From the personal correspondences of Rene Ivenson~~

 

Dearheart,

I forgot to mention. I'm bringing Arthur Weasley with me. He expressed a desire to visit his children. I believe letters were involved.

-PR

 

~~End correspondences~~

 

One look at the teachers told the other students that a Weasley was about to be in a lot of trouble…or he would be if they weren't more worried about Harry, who was backing towards the Head table.

 

When Harry felt the bump of the Head table against his back he ducked under it, turning to dive between two teachers' chairs. As luck would have it he managed to dive between Professors McGonagall and Sprout. He didn't know why he was so afraid, but having angry, female adults between him and the angry redhead seemed like a good idea. That the Headmaster was absent was also good, though why was an unanswerable question.

 

And why was Weasley so angry? And why at him? The boy had turned to glare at him, and started advancing, heedless of the professors, heedless of the fact that every single Hufflepuff had risen, and was looking to the oldest students (fifth years, as the NEWT students were still getting out of class) for direction.

 

Three figures froze in threshold of the double doors.

 

"This is all your fault!" Ron Weasley yelled, staring at Harry, his wand in his hand. "Pansy freak! Hiding behind your daddy! Stupid, worthless baby! There's no way you're the Boy-Who-Lived. You're a liar and a fake!"

 

As Weasley yelled Harry started to relax. That was all that was making him angry?

 

"You're supposed to be brave and strong! You're supposed to be a Gryffindor! The Savior-of-the-Wizarding-World isn't a stupid Hufflepuff!" Weasley muttered something that Harry didn’t catch and an arrow shot out of his wand. Unfortunately his aim was horrible, and before anyone could respond to the sudden attack the arrow pierced Professor Sprout’s leg.

 

oOoOo

 

Severus watched the exchange, frozen. Normally he would have been able to react, but the child had surprised him. He berated himself for loosing his edge even as he reacted, though almost more slowly than the rest of the hall.

 

Pomona dropped, clutching at the wound, and the Hall burst into sound. Many of the Slytherins cackled, the Gryffindors and Ravenclaws stared at Weasley in shock and horror, and the Hufflepuffs exploded. No less than ten disarming charms hit Weasly simultaneously; sending him flying one way while his wand flew the other. He landed, relatively unharmed, at the feet of his father, Arthur Weasley, a tall man with hair as fiery as his children’s. His normally jovial face was set in a deep frown.

 

Up on the dais Minerva was helping Pomona sit still while Poppy tended to the wound. Harry, his face very luckily invisible, was shaking from head to toe.

 

Severus soundlessly joined Minerva and Pomona, his eyes flashing angrily. He casually handed Harry one of the blood pops that he’d started keeping on him at all times, and watched as his son quickly tore the wrapping off and shoved it into his mouth. Immediately he relaxed and Severus silently sighed in relief.

 

"What is going on here?" The three in the doorway had seen enough. A tall man with blindingly red hair, and a tall, dark, slender man wearing a simple black robe with yellow detailing flanked Rene, whose arms were crossed. It was the tall, dark one, immediately recognizable as Peter Richardson, Rene’s boyfriend and Severus’ ex student.

 

"I believe Mister Weasley was digging himself a grave." Severus said, one arm snaking out to pull Harry to him protectively. "Welcome back to Hogwarts, Mister Richardson. I take it your travels were uninteresting?"

 

"Professor Snape, a pleasure. In fact, they could have been quieter, but the destination certainly applied the Curse." Mr. Richardson bowed slightly, and Severus returned the gesture.

 

oOoOo

 

Harry watched everything happening from the safety of his father’s half-embrace. When Professor Sprout had been injured he’d been afraid he was going to attack her, but his father had given him a lolly that tasted exactly like blood, except even better because it was sweeter.

 

The red-haired man sighed, bringing a hand to pinch the bridge of his nose.

 

Somewhere in the hall a firstie could be heard whispering 'Curse?’ to which another student replied 'May your life be interesting.'

 

"Minerva, may I borrow your office?" The red-haired man asked, his voice making Ron Weasley whirl and pale dramatically.

 

"Of course, Arthur." Professor McGonagall replied.

 

"Fred, George, Percy, if you would?" The three older Weasley boys rose, all with stony faces. "Ron, come." Four Weasleys started towards the door.

 

"You! You told them!” He screamed at Harry. “Tattletale! I'm going to get you for…" Percy Weasley grabbed his younger brother and started dragging him towards the door.

 

"No," he said, loud enough for the entire Great Hall to hear, "our brothers and I 'tattled' on your embarrassing behavior."

 

There were no more words as the contingent of redheads disappeared, their footsteps fading and finally stopping.

 

"Right." Rene walked between the Gryffindor and Ravenclaw tables, Mr. Richardson pacing behind her. Both reached the podium, and Rene turned in front of it to face the crowd. Mr. Richardson turned when he was even with the podium, letting Rene take the stage. "One: Hufflepuff is a house, just like all the others. There is absolutely nothing wrong with hard work and loyalty. Two: Madame Pomfrey cleared Harry as suffering xeno…xe…" She looked towards Harry.

 

"Xeroderma Pigmentosum." He whispered.

 

"Harry was cleared by Madame Pomfrey, end of story." Rene's voice took on an edge. "Three: How family interacts is between family unless a child is in danger. Period." She paused, uncertain what else needed to be covered.

 

"The-Boy-Who-Lived." Peter hissed into her ear.

 

"Now, on the subject that I'm sure your parents are all dying to gossip about: Forget all that Boy-Who-Lived crap you were raised on. Harry is a boy, not a God, not a Savior, a boy. Any powerfully magical mother can enact blood magic to save her child from even the killing curse as long as she uses her death to power the spell, it's just that not many mothers have the time." Harry turned to bury his face in his father's robes, waiting for the whole ordeal to be over. In his mind's eye he saw a flash of green light.

 

"Now, is anyone else going to have a problem with the fact that a boy who is famous because his parents are dead has no reason to live up to the expectations of the world that he didn't know about until two months ago? If you have a problem with Harry, take it up with Professor Dumbledore. I'm pretty sure he's the one responsible." She turned to her boyfriend. "Come on Peter, Professor Snape, Harry. Let's go somewhere quieter."

 

The four trooped out the side door, Harry stumbling a bit, with his hand clutched tightly to Severus'. When they were out of sight Peter put his arm around Rene's shoulders and squeezed. She leaned into him, letting out a soft sigh.

 

"If I remember correctly, your quarters are adequate for a four person dinner, Professor Snape." Peter said.

 

"Of course, Apprentice Diplomat Richardson." Severus' voice was both smiling and mocking, though is face remained peacefully blank. "Lead the way." He paused to scoop Harry into his arms.

 

"Your command is my wish." Peter swept down the halls, easily treading paths he knew. He had, after all, been a Slytherin for the duration of his Hogwarts career, which made his enacting vengeance for Hufflepuffs that much more intriguing.

 

"When's the wedding?" Severus asked as they stepped into his quarters.

 

"Summer solstice." Rene absently replied, hunting for her favorite seat. "It's been a while since I've been here."

 

"Yes, and now is not the time to reminisce." Peter turned as Severus put Harry down on the couch, and walked over to the still shaking child. "Rene, would you care to introduce us?"

 

"Harry Potter, I would introduce you to my mate, Peter Richardson. Peter, this is Harry Potter, whom I have taken as a son in the manner of the Clan." Rene spoke calmly, but both Harry and Peter could feel the tension in her.

 

A faint scuffle in the background let them know Severus had been dragged into his bedroom, and the scent told the males that a werewolf had done the dragging. None cared.

 

Harry closed his eyes, mouth working silently for a moment.

 

"You honor me by your presence." Harry said as he opened his eyes, keeping his tone both level and sincere. Inside he was jumping happily at remembering the proper response.

 

"I am pleased to meet the child of my mate." Peter replied, his voice and posture as formal as Harry's had been a moment ago, "and now that the formalities are over with, come here you." Before Harry could react Peter had pulled him into a tight hug.

 

Rene joined them, and for a short while nothing was said. Of course, nothing needed to be said. Harry and Peter both had blood-emotion bonds with Rene, and their mutual vampire heritage made them sensitive to each other.

 

When Peter finally pulled away slightly Rene excused herself to check on Severus and Lupin. She wasn't worried per-se, but she needed an excuse to leave anyways, and they'd put up a silencing ward.

 

Harry watched her go until Peter’s hand gently brushed his chin, catching his attention.

 

"Look at me Harry." His voice was a soft croon, one explicitly used between vampires and their children. It was a comforting sound, impressed into each child in its first year, and reinforced through its life. Harry had, of course, missed much of that time, but he'd been impressed and it showed in the way he immediately relaxed.

 

"I though you were only a quarter." He mumbled, remembering reading something about the croon in Vlad's book.

 

"I am, but on my father's side. We were both accepted as liaisons to the Wizarding world by the Council, and raised in the Path before being sent to Wizarding schools." Peter smiled.

 

"Would I have been, if…" Harry trailed off.

 

"Yes and no." Peter smiled. "Your father was unaware that he was putting you at risk for being part-vampire by creating you after becoming a partial Thrall. He also failed to realize that any partial-Vampire child watched over by a full Vampire would be manipulated into something approximating halfblood status. They would not, of course, turn you fully until your majority, nor against your will." He leaned back, making himself comfortable against the arm of the couch.

 

"Why did you want to hug me?" Harry asked suddenly. He knew what he was sensing, but he was still very confused. After all, if Weasley, who wasn't even in his house, could see the same things in him as Uncle Vernon, then why would anyone care?

 

"Because children are hugged." Peter replied, hoping to draw the real question out.

 

"But…I'm sorry, I guess I just don't understand." Harry looked at his hands, starting to shake again.

 

"Don't understand what, Harry?" Peter cupped the child's chin and forced eye contact. As soon as their eyes met he let himself into Harry's mind, gently guiding him towards verbalizing the core issue. It was something he would never have done under normal circumstances, but these were far from normal.

 

"I don't understand why anyone would want to hug a freak like me. I know when you love someone you hug them, and that Severus and Renny love me, and you do too, and I don't understand that even more, but why do they love me? I'm a worthless freak, a drain on everyone who cares for me. I'm ruining Severus' reputation, but I don't know how to stop 'cause sometimes I'm afraid he'll be gone and I have to touch him and make sure he's real." He stopped for breath, and continued to stare at Peter, his tremors increasing until the first tear trickled down his cheek.

 

The tear was Peter's cue, and he gathered the shaking child into his arms, cradling and cuddling him into a comfortable position before re-establishing eye contact.

 

"There are a number of truths that you must learn, but not until after your thirteenth-year initiation. For now I will simply say that Severus loves you of his own free will, and that nothing you do will change that. I can also say with absolute truth that Rene loves you because it is in her nature, and that she would not if she did not find you worthy.” As he spoke he worked pathways in Harry’s mind. It was a skill that not every vampire had at the level he did, and one he had needed to come to terms with. He laid out patterns so that every time Harry thought of himself in negative terms he would get what Peter placed, which was the knowledge that those terms were wrong, and that Severus, Rene, and Peter himself loved Harry unconditionally.

 

"As for myself, I love you because Rene does, and she is my Mate. If I objected to you in any way neither of us would love you, but I do not, and she does not, and so we do." Peter paused, and a mischievous grin crossed his face.

 

"I have come to introduce myself, and to offer mentorship as you grow into your heritage. As such I will give you the first Truth every child must learn: You cannot chose, nor control who loves you. The only thing you can control is how you respond to their love. Repay it with honesty and respect, and much will be forgiven. After all, everyone makes mistakes." He smiled down at the small child in his lap, and decided he and his had made the right choice.

 

"Mentor?" Harry asked, his brain absorbing the Truth he had been given by diverting the conversation.

 

"Indeed. I'm sure you know what that means." Harry smiled and nodded, burying his head in Peter's chest and wrapping his arms part way around his waist.

 

"Big brother." Harry closed his eyes, taking in the new scent and memorizing it without noticing or caring.

 

"Little brother." Peter whispered back, rubbing Harry's back with one hand and stroking his hair with the other.

 

~~From the private correspondences of Peter Richardson~~

 

Clan-Head,

Greetings and good wishes. I bring a request before you, to admit a new member to the Clan. I would adopt my mate's Clan-son as my brother.

Half-Vampire by birth and first-year care, the son of James Potter and Lilly Potter nee Evans. Ward by law and Bonding of Severus Snape, scion of a distaff Prince line. Clan-son by partial bond of Rene Ivenson, my Mate. Sorted-son of Hufflepuff.

I await your instruction.

Fair skies, good hunting.

-Peter Richardson
Second Degree Son of the Clan
Liaison of the Clan
Wizarding Diplomat in Training

 

~~From the pages of You Wound Me Now Die~~

 

Clan Relationships

 

First Degree

 

For a long time I was confused whenever Renny or Peter talked about me being a son/brother in the way of the Clan. Then Peter explained it to me, and it made so much more sense.

 

You see, most Vampires come into a Clan having been Turned as adults. They have a Sire or Dame, and that's it. Therefore, a long time ago, the Clans came up with other ways of forming relationships.

 

Whichever a new Vampire has, Sire or Dame, a member of the opposite sex becomes their Clan-parent. Adult Vampires have a choice in the matter. Children do not. This Vampire is responsible for showing you the ropes, so to speak. They are teachers, and the beginnings of a support network.

 

To the newly Turned vampire Clan-brothers and Clan-sisters are mentors. They are the older siblings of an extended family, offering guidance, advice, and introductions to the fun aspects of life.

 

A Sire or Dame is the equivalent of a biological parent, but as most Vampires are adults when Turned that relationship doesn't necessarily need to exist.

 

A Vampire may have only one parent of each gender, which is to say they can have a Sire and Clan-mother, or a Dame and Clan-father. Of course, Sires and Dames can also become Clan-parents, but it is not necessary.

 

Now, how this all relates to me gets more confusing, so I will simply spell it out.

 

Severus, as my only surviving parental figure, is considered my Sire, despite the fact that he is fully human. This is because he holds parental authority over me and had some small experience with the workings of vampire Clans even before he adopted me.

 

Rene took me in as a Clan-child, though she wasn't yet a member of the Clan. However, because of her status as Mate to Peter she was permitted.

 

Because I already had a Sire, Peter took me as Clan-brother. The fact that he was and is the mate to my Clan-mother means nothing. He is my brother, no matter his relationship to anyone else.

 

Just think of it this way: The closest relationship is the one that matters. Mate to a relative is second degree. Brother is first degree. Therefore, because my Clan-mother's Mate is my Clan-brother the only title that matters to me is Clan-brother.

 

And that's just the surface.