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Severus Snape was a complicated man. He knew it, and he liked that part about himself. He liked how his colleagues never quite knew what he was thinking, or even how he’d take a simple joke. Of course, once you got to his core everything made sense. Once you truly understood him he was no longer complicated.

Perhaps that was why he kept everyone at a distance.

There was one person that understood him, here at Hogwarts. Only one. He prayed that it would always remain that way. After all, once the puzzle was solved, once the questions found their answers the mystery vanished. The secret became knowledge, the fear became pity. And pity was something he would never consent to receiving.

His knuckles rapped on the door once before he pushed it open and entered swiftly, closing it with a snap behind him.

“Headmaster,” he said nodding to Dumbledore, who stood before him, surveying a bookcase. “You asked to see me?”

“Indeed, I did.” Dumbledore glanced at him for a moment, his blue eyes twinkling before returning to the bookcase. “I’ve heard that you’re picking on your own house, Mister Potter, I believe.”

Snape’s eyes flashed. “You brought me here to question me on my teaching methods?”

“No—” Dumbledore replied, now pulling a copy of Transfiguration Today from the shelf. “—No, but I was curious. After all, one can only assume what the boy did to upset you…” He paused here, and Snape swore that he was smiling. “Alas,” he went on, “If you should rather that I get to the point, I can do so… or is there something on your mind?”

Even in all the years that he had known Dumbledore, Snape had never quite gotten used to the way he seemed to read his mind. Or maybe it was just the fact that he understood him while still being able to treat him naturally. No pity, no eggshells. Just the tacit understanding.  

 “It’s Potter,” Snape said finally crossing to the window. “In Slytherin…”

“Ah well, as for that, I have only speculations, Severus.” Dumbledore crossed to his desk and paused for a moment stroking Fawkes, a beautiful phoenix with shocking red and gold plumage, before taking a seat.

“The Sorting Hat must have made a mistake, or seen something that obviously wasn’t there.”

“The Sorting Hat has never made a mistake before, I see no reason why it should start this year.” Dumbledore looked up at him, “What did he do in your lesson, if I may ask?”

Snape hissed furiously and began to pace the space in front of the desk. “Nothing.”

“Nothing? My, I will remember to always be doing something around you.”

Snape shot him a glare that Dumbledore, as he had opened the book and was skimming it with his eyes, did not see.

“He’s lousy at potion-making.”

“Severus, he only found he was a wizard a couple of weeks ago, I’d be shocked if he could concoct a perfect potion his first go at it – and, what with you breathing down his neck, well, I’d be surprised to see anyone make a perfect potion then.” A short pause then, “It’s because he did nothing when his father would have done something, is it not?”

He had struck gold. Snape did not reply, but his silence was the conformation.

“What you expect to see and what actually is there are two very different things, Severus,” Dumbledore said calmly. “His other teachers have reported that the boy is modest, likeable, and reasonably talented. I personally find him an engaging child.” He glanced up at the potions master for a moment before returning to the book.

Snape continued to remain silent, though his pacing had slowed slightly. He knew that Dumbledore was right – as he usually was – but that didn’t make it any more bearable.

“Keep an eye on Quirrell, won’t you?” Dumbledore added as he turned the page of Transfiguration Today.

Snape turned sharply to him. “I didn’t think we were finished with Potter,” he spat seeming angry with himself that the boy – as much as he hated him – was ruling his life.

Dumbledore sighed and at last, looked up. “You might hate him for something that the child had no control over, but that does not change the fact that you will continue to watch over him. You yourself cannot deny this. You will do it, whether I ask you to or not, and you know it.” He shut the book with a snap and stood up. “Now, we will move on to the actual reason that I have called you here, and that is to discuss Quirrell. There has be something very different about him since he has returned from his travels, and I suspect that he might have encountered Lord Voldemort.”

Snape stopped dead in his tracks and stared at him. “What?” he whispered. “How is that even possible?”

“Quirrell, during his year break, traveled to the forests of Albania, the last known location of Voldemort. And since he’s come back, he’s been very different. The addition of the turban for one, his jittery nerves for another, and many other reasons that I will not discuss at this point in time.”

Snape stood stiff, his hands clenching at his side. “What do you want me to do?” he asked quietly.

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“I’m going to go for a walk,” Harry stated standing up.

Malfoy looked up at him. “Where too?” he asked standing up as well. Harry cringed, if Malfoy insisted in coming with him…

“Just to the grounds. Don’t worry, I’ll be back.”

Malfoy seemed to catch the finality in Harry’s voice because he sat back down. “Fine then, just be back before we have to go to dinner. The Bloody Baron likes all us Slytherins to go down together.”

Harry nodded and quickly exited the Slytherin common room. He made his way up back to the main hall and out onto the grounds, walking quickly, hoping to avoid any Slytherins – or any other students for that matter – in case they started questioning him.

Onto grass now, and across the field to a small hut on the edge of the forest. Harry, feeling slightly jittery, nearly bounced up to it and knocked hurriedly on the door glancing behind him.

“I’m comin’,” came Hagrid’s voice from within and Harry heard some scuffling and several loud barks. Then the door was thrown open and Hagrid stood there grinning down at him. “Heya Harry. Good ter see ya! Jus’ hang on a sec…” Hagrid seemed to be blocking something behind him from getting to the door.

“Back Fang!” Hagrid turned and watched him seize the collar of an enormous black boarhound and practically drag him away from the door. “That’s it… A’ight come in!”

Harry crossed the threshold and Hagrid closed the door behind him, while at the same time releasing his hold on Fang. The dog barked again and bounded up to Harry, nearly knocking him over, his slobbery wet tongue licking his hands and face.

“So, how are yeh? I want ter hear all ‘bout yer firs’ week,” Hagrid called as he was grabbing bucket sized mugs from a cupboard above a basin.

“It was fine,” Harry answered getting to his feet. Now that Fang had greeted him, the boarhound returned to a mat by the fireplace and curled up, watching him with large deep brown eyes.

Hagrid’s hut was only one room, but it was still quite large. Traps, hams and pheasants hung from the ceiling. It was cozy, warm and very inviting. Harry crossed to the table that had chairs so high up that he had to jump into it in order to take a seat.

Hagrid returned with a plate of rock cakes and sat down opposite him. “C’mon, what’s it like? You understandin’ everythin’ alright?”

Harry nodded and picked up one of the rock cakes, but didn’t take a bite.

“You sure yeh alright?” Hagrid asked watching him carefully.

Harry opened his mouth to tell him that he was fine, but never got managed it. In seconds he was talking more than he had all week. He told him his worries about being placed in Slytherin, about Malfoy’s fake friendship, and Snape’s treatment of him in potions class. He talked for nearly half an hour and when he’d finished he felt as if an enormous weight had been lifted off his chest. Hagrid was quiet a moment longer, then…

“Don’t worry ‘bout Snape. He doesn’t like any of the student’s anyways.”

“He didn’t do it to any of the other Slytherins! I think he hates me.”

“Nonsense! Why should he?” But Harry couldn’t help but notice that Hagrid avoided his eyes when he said that.

Harry glanced down at the rock cake that he was still holding. He tried to take a bite but nearly broke his teeth. He set it back down and glanced over at the door.

“Somethin’ on yer mind?”

Harry hesitated a moment before, “I invited Ron to come down here too.”

“Weasley?”

Harry nodded and then voiced something that had been bugging him the entire walk here. “Do you think that, because I’m in Slytherin and not in Gryffindor, Ron and I will…” A deep breath, “never really be friends? Do you think he’d just… pretend to be my friend to spy on the Slytherins, or something? I mean I know Slytherin and Gryffindor aren’t the closest of houses. Is hoping that he’s going to show up… pointless?”

Hagrid surveyed Harry for a long moment. He glanced over at the door too and then broke into a large whiskery smile.

“Why don’t yeh ask him yerself?”

Harry whirled around. Ron was there, standing in the doorway. He hadn’t even heard the door open…

“Ron…” Harry said staring at him.

“It’s true,” Ron began heavily, closing the door behind him and walking over to the table. “We probably won’t be best mates. I talked to Fred and George about it, cause… I mean…” Ron trailed off awkwardly, then shook his head and continued. “And, well, they reckoned… that we make a truce.”

Harry stood up. “Truce?” he asked slowly.

“Erm… Yeah. They called it a ‘neutral stance’. You know, I won’t join in when they make fun of Slythering Potter and you won’t make fun of the blood traitors when Malfoy has a go at us.”

Harry swallowed. Less than ideal but considering the circumstances…

“Why not just be friends?” he asked quietly.

“Because…” Ron squirmed slightly, looking incredibly awkward.

“… I’m in Slytherin,” Harry finished, defeated.

“No. Not, really… Just, a precaution, you know?”

“Until I prove myself?”

“Yeah… Yeah… sorta like that.” Ron extended a hand. “So…Truce?”

For one wild moment, Harry considered not taking it, but he shook himself and took Ron’s hand. “Truce.”

“Right.”

There was another, tense silence.

“Can you stay for tea a little though?”

“Yeah… I reckon that’s within truce guidelines.” Ron grinned and Harry grinned back.

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The next hour passed in a surprisingly pleasant manner. Harry, worried at first that Ron and his newfound truce would make things awkward, was happy to discover that the subject didn’t come up again while they were talking to Hagrid. He supposed that this meant that it would go into effect once they leave and couldn’t talk to each other any more without risking the retribution of their houses.

Ron told Harry and Hagrid about his first week. He mentioned that the girl that Snape had been so mean to – Hermione Granger – had burst into tears after the lesson.

“I felt kinda bad for her, you know? I mean… she is a bit of a know-it-all, but he didn’t have to go off on her like that.”

As Hagrid managed to get Ron into an animated discussion about his elder brother Charlie – who was studying dragons in Romania – Harry’s attention was caught by a piece of paper on the ground. Picking it up he discovered it was a cutting of the Daily Prophet. It was about the attempted break-in at Gringotts Wizard bank. Ron had mentioned it on the Hogwarts Express, but he hadn’t said when.

“Hagrid…” He said as he read it through. “That break-in at Gringotts happened on my birthday. It might’ve happened while we were there!” Harry looked up at him.

He was definitely avoiding his eyes now. He grunted something unintelligible and offered another rock cake. Harry looked over the paper again.

“The vault in question had in fact been emptied earlier that same day…”

Hagrid had emptied number 7-1-3, taking that little package… had that been what the thieves were looking for? And where was it now? Harry knew better than to ask Hagrid about it, not when he wouldn’t even acknowledge the cutting. Distracted, he glanced down at his watch and jumped up.

“What is it?” Ron asked startled by his abrupt movement.

“I have to go. Dinner starts in less than half an hour and I’m supposed to walk down with the rest of the Slytherins. I’d better go before Malfoy comes to look for me.”

Ron stared at him for a moment before nodding. “See you around then….”

“Yeah… see you.”

Harry exited the hut, giving a small wave behind him then made a run for the castle, praying that no one looking out the windows.

Once his feet hit the steps, he slowed to a brisk walk. He was just about to push open the front doors and enter when a voice behind him stopped him in his tracks.

“Running a little late for dinner, Potter?”

Harry jumped a foot in the air and turned to see Draco Malfoy leaning easily against the wall behind him, his face glowing as if he had just caught a child stealing cookies from the cookie jar.

“Er… Yeah,” Harry said nervously then, slightly angry, “You following me?”

“No, of course not,” Malfoy replied smirking worse then ever. “But when you didn’t come back, well I figured you’d gotten lost and decided to come to find you.”

“I’m not lost.”

“So I see.” Malfoy walked past him, then paused in front of the doors. “It really doesn’t matter to me if you want to hang out with that oaf Hagrid or the Muggle loving Weasley, but you are going to have make a decision.”

“Decision about what?” Harry asked sharply.

Malfoy met his glare evenly, and for once he wasn’t sneering. “You can’t have one foot in both worlds, Potter,” he said. “Soon, you are going to have to decide where your loyalties lie, and there will be no rethinking your decision then.”

He pushed open the door and was about to enter when Harry suddenly shot, “What if I don’t know?”

Malfoy turned. “What?”

“What if I don’t know where my loyalties lie?”

Malfoy shrugged. “Then you going to have to figure it out, and… I’d make it quick, Potter. Slytherins aren’t very patient and the time when you have to decide will come faster than you know.”