It was the year Harriet Potter started Hogwarts.
Dumbledore had taken care to remind him of it.

Severus found it hard to focus on the Sorting and applaud for the Slytherins. Potter. He hated the name, and was determined to hate the girl as well.

She was, after all, the spawn of James Potter.

Even though she allegedly had the eyes of her mother. Dumbledore had made sure to mention it. Severus knew not what the old coot hoped to achieve by it. Did he want to get Severus to see her as replacement for Lily?

That would be all sorts of creepy, and hating the girl really was the morally superior alternative in that case.

Really, what did Dumbledore think? While Severus’ feelings towards Lily were innocent enough – he had always had enough self-control to keep his thoughts from straying to fantasies that were too far from reality and would only make said reality hurt more – they were decidedly of a romantic nature, and …

No, he could not fathom what Dumbledore intended to achieve.


„Potter, Harriet.“

Severus could not help but look.

Blonde hair. Short blonde hair.

For some reason he had expected to see either a black mop like Potter’s or Lily’s long, red hair.

This …

Well, genetics were not something he knew a lot about, having had to teach himself using muggle books, but he figured it was possible. Lily’s sister did have blonde hair, after all.

The girl did have glasses, thankfully, making the eyes less visible.

She was sorted Gryffindor, no surprise there, and shuffled over to her house table, shoulders hunched.

No, she didn’t have much of her mother. If anything, she reminded Severus of himself.

He shuddered.

Certainly he had nothing in common with Potter’s spawn.

No, the girl would grow bold and sure of herself once she’d gotten used to school, and then she’d be like Potter and he could hate her in peace.




Only that didn’t happen.

Severus asked her some questions in her first lesson of potions, and she couldn’t answer them, just as he had expected – Potter had always been lazy.

But …

Her answers just weren’t as cocky and cheeky as he would have expected from Potter’s spawn.


Severus continued to watch her, trying to find fault. And fault, he did find.

She befriended the annoying Granger girl – a teacher’s pet, just like Lupin, the logical thing for a lazy Potter to do.

She was sloppy with her brewing, and whenever a lesson ended, her desk was covered in blonde hair.

It was a few days before Halloween that Severus found himself glaring at the hair-covered desk again. Stupid child shouldn’t be so careless with her hair. If someone wanted to brew polyjuice potion, they would only have to collect it.

Severus wasn’t sure why, but he collected a couple of hairs.

Perhaps they might be useful at some point in time, later. It wasn’t like he had creepy motives or anything. He would never have dreamt of stealing a lock of Lily’s hair … not that Lily’s hair had been strewn all over her desk …

Wait.

Should children lose this many hairs? Hair loss was an affliction of middle-aged men, and some unlucky younger ones, but surely a child, a female child at that …

There was something wrong here.


He started watching Potter, even following her around inconspiciously.

She didn’t move much. Not because she was bookish, though. Granger always had a book with her, but Potter didn’t. Potter just sat around, doing nothing much at all, except listening to Granger’s lectures.

Still, none of that was the solid proof Severus wanted.

Alerting Madam Pomfrey that the child was possibly sick when that wasn’t the case … that would just make Dumbledore think he had succeeded with … whatever he was trying to achieve by emphasizing how much the girl looked like Lily.

So he continued watching.

The child did not seem to have much energy for anything at all. She was a passable flyer, but went back to the ground the moment the task Madam Hooch had assigned was done.

Her brewing … a small part of him suspected the fact she let Granger do most the work and only shoddily cut the ingredients was related to some illness.
Though of course, being lazy was perfectly in character for a Potter.


At last, one day before Halloween, Severus caught Potter in an empty hallway, drinking something, and then hastily hiding the phial in her pocket.

Severus used a summoning charm to retrieve it. Thick, green glass, the very cheapest … something about it reminded him of Knockturn Alley.

„Follow me, Potter.“

The girl looked up at him, green eyes large with fear. „I didn’t do anything!“, she protested.

Severus held up the phial. „What is this, then? Pumpkin juice?“

„Yes!“

Damn his sarcasm. Perhaps, if he hadn’t given her such a handy excuse … well, nothing to be done about that now.

„Regardless, you will follow me to the hospital wing.“ He looked at her mop of blonde hair. It wasn’t really a mop anymore at this point. The hair was thinning so rapidly … it looked like one of Filch’s old brooms.

Something inside him twisted.

He wasn’t pitying a Potter. Surely not. It was just so … wrong, to see a child with thinning hair.

„I’m not sick.“

„You will do as you are told, or you will be in detention for far longer than it will take for Madam Pomfrey to look you over“, Severus snapped irritably.

Finally, she followed him, shuffling, hunched over … was she trying to hide something? Or just … unconsciously trying to protect her vital organs, as he had done while at school?

No one bullied Potter, though. Draco could not be counted, he frequently taunted Potter when the two met, but could hardly be said to follow her around.


Madam Pomfrey hurried to meet him when he opened the door of the hospital wing. With good reason – if he went to the lengths of personally taking a student there, things were usually dire.

„Severus? Is something …?“

„Wrong. Yes. Potter here ingested an unknown, potentially illegal substance – I will analyze the remains – and seems to be suffering from an extreme case of hair loss. Her hair is all over the desks of my classroom.“

The matron met his gaze and nodded.

Then she turned to Potter. „Sit down, dear. It’s nothing to be worried about, I am sure, but your hair is rather thin. Let me have a look …“


Severus retreated to his office and began analyzing the substance in the green phial.

Scarpin’s Revelaspell didn’t yield much – the spell was designed for normal potions ingredients and this was obviously something else.
The only ingredient it revealed was boar testicle. Not really commonly used, but still in some legal potions.
Not ones, however, you would expect or want an eleven year old girl to use.

Severus wrote it down on a piece of parchment.

Then he looked through his books on the upper shelves. Those who dabbled in the dark arts typically also wanted to analyze potions and had invented quite a few spells for that purpose.

If he remembered correctly, there was one in the black, linen-bound untitled tome, somewhere in the middle … page 45.

Ah yes, there it was.

Very well. He closed his eyes for a moment to steel himself, then whispered the butchered Latin spell to reveal human body parts.

And it did reveal … something.

Good thing he always kept a spare bowl on his desk. Just in case.

Severus sat hunched over that bowl for a good while until he was sure he would not throw up.

Of the two things he had found, the hags’ blood was the less disgusting. Not even strictly human, but apparently, the inventor of the spell had included all sentient beings.

Alright. If this was going in the direction he thought it was going, it would explain the hair loss. But not why Potter was taking the concoction in the first place.

And he was sure there were more ingredients. Ones he had not found yet.

He paced his office. The worst was over, now, so why did he feel so apprehensive?

Forcing himself to function, he took up the almost empty phial and sniffed it. That smell … perhaps a mushroom?

Not all of the books he had collected were about the so-called dark arts. He also happened to own a tome written by generations of self-taught witches who had only ever used whatever was available in their remote forest home.

And just as he had remembered, they had invented a spell.

„Since too little time remains, show me what this pot contains“, he whispered pointing his wand at the phial. Plain English spells – could that even work?

It did.

Liberty cap, common stinkhorn, adder’s root.

Ah, yes, there was a theme here, but … why?

There must be another ingredient, one that evaded all those spells …

Something exotic?

He tried the American version of Scarpin’s Revelaspell, and indeed …

Morning glory.

A hallucinogen.

Wasn’t Potter a bit young for that kind of teenage rebellion?


Severus didn’t have the time to ponder it, as in that moment, the fire in his office flared green.

The visitor was none other than Dumbledore, already in his nightgown, purple slippers and a green dressing gown.

Had analyzing the contents of the phial really taken that long?

„Poppy alerted me“, the headmaster said, stepping out of the fire. „Have you finished your analysis?“

„Barely.“ Severus put his wand back in the pocket in his sleeve. „I do not know the quantities of each of the ingredients yet, and there might be ingredients that I could not find. However, what I did find does not bode well for Potter’s health.“

He did not pity a Potter. Most definitely not. It was just that the child was only eleven and looked so fragile and …

„Poppy found a decrease in bone density“, Dumbledore replied gravely. „It is, she says, as though the marrow has been sucked out.“

Severus shuddered, the vague unease he had been feeling all along manifesting into something more definite. „Did she give the girl an emetic?“

„Yes, your own invention. It worked well, but Harriet has been drinking this potion for weeks.“

„Tell Madam Pomfrey to give the girl a bezoar.“

He had meant that as a message to be relayed once the headmaster returned to the hospital wing – as he was bound to, considering this was the Girl Who Lived. But Dumbledore did not hesitate for a second before turning to the fire and calling Madam Pomfrey. „Severus advises to give Harriet a bezoar“, he informed the healer.

Even in this dire situation, the headmaster’s calm voice soothed Severus’ nerves.

„Here is the list of ingredients I could identify so far“, he said, handing it to Dumbledore. „I have not figured out yet what exactly it does, but I do think the hags’ blood is what we need to focus on. There are some hags selling … things in Knockturn Alley. And blood … this is old magic.“ It was common knowledge that hags preyed on children.

Beyond that … not much was known. The Dark Lord had not been much interested in joining forces with hags. They just weren’t that powerful.

Or at least that was what Severus had believed until now.

This potion, however ...

Dumbledore stroked his beard. „In ‚Holidays with Hags, it says that hags can form a long-distance connection with children to … feed on their life force …“

„What? Holidays with Hags? Isn’t that by this fool, Lockhart?“ Severus was almost certain it was. There couldn’t be anything worth knowing in anything written by that empty-headed buffoon.

„It is his name and portrait on the title, but I have long doubted that the experiences described in his books are actually his own.“

„You mean, he copied it?“ Now that made sense. „Are there any instructions in there on how to break the spell?“

„I am afraid not. There is a spell mentioned, but I am almost certain that it is fake – Gilderoy’s own invention, something he thinks flashier than the real method applied.“

Of course. Even when copying something the fool couldn’t even copy the most relevant parts.

Severus sighed. „You could, I take it, not get Potter to tell you why she thought it a good idea to ingest a potion from a highly questionable source?“

„Indeed not.“ Dumbledore faked interest in a jar with pickled toads one one of the ingredient shelves. „She was highly agitated after learning that she had been given an emetic and the dose of potion she ingested just before would not take effect. Other than accusing Poppy of ruining her only chance at happiness, we could not get much out of her. “

„Legilimency?“ He knew that Dumbledore had little scruples about using that skill on students. Highly illegal, of course, but Dumbledore had always considered himself above the law.

„She would have noticed, and what little trust I could establish would have been gone.“

Severus was almost sure this was a lie. Delving deep into the mind would be followed by headache, yes, and could be noticed by those experienced with it … but Potter wasn’t.

Perhaps Potter just was too (seemingly) innocent for Dumbledore’s self-righteousness to take effect. „No surface thoughts?“

„Desperation. Anger. The same she expressed verbally.“

Severus nodded. He knew why he preferred to leave such tasks to other people. „I am not sure whether to first continue analyzing the potion, of research hags. A bezoar should remove all poisonous effects for the time being, but …“ Chronic poisoning was not so easily cured.


„It is vital, I think, that we learn more on hags.“ Dumbledore turned to face him, not a trace of humor in those blue eyes. „If there is, indeed, a connection, if a hag is feeding on the girl, we can lose no time.“

„In disposing of the hag?“ He had never killed a person and wasn’t keen on killing a being, but if it had to be done ...

„In severing the connection. I do not think a search for one specific hag would be fruitful. Besides, without proof ...“

„Of course.“ Severus was not quite sure why the principle of innocent until proven guilty was applied to hags, who, as a group, openly admitted that they wanted to eat children.

Pro-hag-activists liked to claim that those hags that made statements about wanting to eat children were just outliers, didn’t mean it, et cetera, but seeing as the other hags didn’t seem overly invested in stopping their child-eating brethren …

„I will firecall Nicholas. Feel free to contact your own sources as you see fit.“ Dumbledore left through the door, probably to get a cup of hot chocolate from the kitchen on his way.

Which reminded Severus …

He really needed coffee.

Instant coffee was one of the few things muggle that he actively liked.

The taste might be sub-par, but it was faster than a wideye potion and much less expensive.


Once more, he consulted the book, parchment bound in stained linen, in which generations of witches had written down their life experience.

Leaving coffee stains on the pages wasn’t a problem, the pages had brownish circles on them where teacups had been placed. It was a well-used book.

Severus suspected it was only a copy – a very well done one, but still. Not that it mattered.

There was no table of contents, of course, but he faintly remembered that there had been quite a lot of dark creatures in those woods …

A hour and a half had passed, and two cups of coffee drained before he found what he was looking for.

„There is a hag in the woods. I am sure. I checked all the signs. She lurks around the village, watching the children. I’m scared. Parts of me wants to firecall mother, but … I am now the witch of these woods. It is my duty to do something about the hag. But … what? There is nothing in the family chronic. Mother probably doesn’t know, either … killing it would be the obvious solution, but I do not think I can bring myself to do that.“

Severus sighed. The woman who had written those lines was in the exact same predicament as he. Hopefully, she would come up with a solution, though he wasn’t very hopeful anymore.

„Grandmother always said that they only prey on unwanted children. That’s why we haven’t waged war against them, she claimed. People see them as easy way to get rid … I shudder to think about it, and even back then, I wasn’t sure what I found scarier, the hags’ appetite for the flesh of children, or the fact that people, ordinary humans, would send their children out into the forest … it’s all coming back to me now.
Granny told me those scary stories. Children being sent into the forests where the stepmother knew a hag dwelt … the father often not caring at all. Sometimes it would even be both actual parents sending their children to … to be eaten. At the time, I thought it was just stories … I need to make sure the children are safe. Unwanted children … how does one go about finding out which child the parents want to be rid of?“

Unwanted children? That could hardly apply to Potter … could it? Severus turned a page.

„I think I may have found a way to get rid of the hag.“

Promising … Severus squinted his eyes to read the chicken-scratch. The writer seemed excited, her handwriting even worse than when she had been scared.

„In any case, I have an apprentice now. Mary is a meek and biddable child, perhaps a bit too much so. Muggle, of course, but she will be able to help me around the house and with preparing potions ingredients. But I should start at the beginning.

I made a round through the village, knocking on doors, telling people that I need an apprentice. Of course I first went to those houses where I had my suspicions … and turns out I was right about John Miller, that useless drunkard. He practically shoved his daughter at me. I will give him one thing, though – he didn’t give her to the hag. He told me, in slurred words, that the hag had asked for an apprentice, too, but he didn’t trust her. The muggles do not trust me, not much, but they do buy my potions and I can only assume he thought I would not murder the girl, if only because it would get me murdered in turn.“

Severus stared at the words. Useless drunkard … his own father could have been described with the same words.

It took a while before he could turn the page.

„Mary told me the hag sold her a potion. Only wanted a strand of her hair in return. The potion was to make her pretty, she said. I wonder if it actually did something – I see no difference, but then, I rarely ever saw her in public before. There’s something foul about this. I just know it. Hags always have sinister motives. I surrounded Mary’s bed with hawthorn and blackthorn and renewed the protections on the house.“

Another page …

„The hag is gone. Mary seems well – she has gained some weight and while her complexion is worse than before, I think that is the effect of the hag’s potion wearing off. Mary is a good apprentice so far. Telling her that I am a witch only after I warned her about the hag was a good thing – she seemed relieved that I can protect her. I think I will teach her everything a witch needs to know, the law be damned. In the old days, people never made a difference between a woman who knew her herbs and mushrooms and an actual witch, and there always has to be a witch in these woods. There just has to be. The muggles would never be safe otherwise.“


Severus put a writing quill between the pages and closed the book.
There was something he needed to find out.

Dumbledore was still awake when Severus firecalled him. He stepped in front of the fireplace, far enough back that Severus could see his face.

„Did Flamel have any news?“ He didn’t really think so, Dumbledore would have told him.

„He could only tell me that the German fairy tale of Hansel and Gretel was based on a real life account of two children’s encounter with a hag, and to look for clues there. I have not gotten far with my musings. What about your research?“

„The book I turned to describes an encounter with a hag, where the child could be saved by adoption. Apparently hags only prey on children their parents want to get rid of.“

„Oh.“

There was something like guilt in Dumbledore’s eyes.

„What? You know something. What the hell is wrong with Potter’s home life?“ He dreaded the answer.

Dumbledore hesitated. „I thought it best to place her with Lily’s only remaining relative …“

„Petunia?“ His sense of dread increased. If Petunia’s treatment of Lily was anything to go by ...

„Yes. There are reasons, good reasons, why Harriet must live with them, but … she should have been safe …“ Dumbledore interrupted himself. „Did you find any hints on how to sever the connection between the hag and her victim?“

„Hawthorn and blackthorn placed around the bed. You could try that, although I think the protections of Hogwarts would render that superfluous.“

„You never know. We are dealing with old magic here.“

„Perhaps. I will go to Knockturn Alley tomorrow morning, before breakfast. Potter should have improved after coming to Hogwarts. It is not like she isn’t wanted here.“ Except by him, that was. Everyone else adored her, that should be plenty enough. „There might be something we do not know yet. I will find a hag and get some answers.“

Dumbledore hesitated. Then, he nodded slowly. „Be careful, Severus.“

„Of course.“

He ended the firecall, went to his bed and didn’t even bother to undress.

The sunrise woke him. Not the real sunrise, but the sun rising on the painting on the bedroom wall. He had found the painting in a room in the Hufflepuff part of the castle, and had remembered how much Lily had liked to watch the sunrise, so …

No time to think about that, now.

Severus got up, went to the bathroom and hesitated. He was going to go to Knockturn Alley. Personal hygiene wasn’t something most of its denizens cared about, and he wanted to blend in.

On the other hand …

He was looking for a hag.

So he shaved.

Breakfast? He could get some at Diagon Alley.

The world seemed strangely peaceful outside, helped along by the autumn mists that rose from the ground.

He walked through the schoolground gates and waited until they had swung closed behind him before he apparated.


Diagon Alley looked idyllic in the early sunlight. He had always loved it so much as a child. Even now he felt tempted to just walk through the empty street, admiring the shops ...

No, he had no time to waste.

Child. That was it.

He took a deep breath and aimed a shrinking charm at himself. It could be done. He knew. He had seen the results in the hospital ward often enough.

Severus was no stupid teen. He managed to shrink himself just enough.

Just enough to pass for a child.

Would it be enough?

It was easy to feel like a child again, being so small. So defenseless. So lonely.

He walked to Knockturn Alley.

Looked at the dirty cobblestones as he shuffled around.


„What are you doing here, all on your own, little boy?“, a voice crooned.

He had found a hag. Perhaps not the hag, but he was almost certain …

„None of yer business“, he growled.

„Your teachers will miss you …“

„No, they damn well won’t. No one cares about me, do they? They’ll be glad I’m not there.“ He swallowed. The worst thing about it was – it was true. Or had been, back then.

„Poor child. They only care about the Quidditch stars, do they?“

The voice was warm, gentle … seductive. Not in a sexual way … there was the promise of a mother’s love. So tempting.

„They’ll never care about me.“

„Oh, but they will. I can help you. A simple potion …“

Either this was the hag he was looking for or they all used this trick. Severus raised his gaze, carefully, slowly, as he would have had as a sullen preteen.

Yes, definitely a hag. She wore tattered clothes and a brown headscarf that obscured her face, made her look, at first glance, like an elderly witch who couldn’t brew a potion to cure warts, but he was not fooled.

„Potion?“

„Come with me and I will show you.“

Severus followed her to the dark, small side alley, reaching for his wand. As soon as they were out of sight, he pointed the wand at himself. „Finite incantatem.“

The hag rummaged in her bag, a horrible thing made out of the skin of some animal … or sentient creature. She didn’t seem to notice that he was his normal size again. Did she have several different potions?

„Now, we talk“, he stated plainly.

Her gaze snapped up. The watery blue eyes widened.

„You sold a potion to a blonde girl. I do not know if you know her name, and I do not care. But I demand that you release your hold on her.“ He was not some witch in the woods who never got a Hogwarts education and had to rely on subtlety. No, Severus was confident he could easily overpower a hag.

The hag chuckled. „That is not how that works“, she replied, her voice now cold and hard as the ice on the ground of a lake. „A bargain was struck.“

„Potter didn’t know what she was doing. Any contract signed by an underage child is null and void.“

Now, the hag cackled. Of course. Old magic had never cared for such things. A toddler might be spared – might – but a girl who had entered puberty was an adult for magical purposes, no matter how ignorant. At age eleven …
„She? Oh, no, this is not about her. Her guardians wanted to be rid of her. She is not loved. She belongs to us.“

Severus shivered. He knew, intuitively, the truth in the hag’s words.

Us. The hags. So it was true. „She is loved.“ Everyone loved the Girl Who Lived. Except for some few Death Eaters, that was.

The hag bared her yellow, crooked teeth. „By whom? You?“ She cackled. „You think it your duty to save her, but you don’t care and never will. She knows she is not loved. And that is all that matters.“

Severus contemplated those words for a moment. She knows … it must be about how someone felt.

He had recalled his childhood, vividly, and attracted the hag. This must be the key.

The fog grew thicker. Darker. This was not the pleasant mist rising out of the Hogwarts grounds. It had an ominous quality to it.
He had only felt that kind of thing once before. In the ceremony where the Dark Lord had branded him. This was old magic, and not of the pleasant kind.

Severus decided to disapparate.

He stumbled when he reappeared in Diagon Alley, only a short distance away.

Morning sun shone on his face.

There was more to hags than he had previously assumed. Of course there was. A creature that to this day haunted the fairy tales of muggles all over the world … no, hags were much more powerful than trolls or vampires.

And he was not entirely sure he wanted to mess with them. Not when there was another way to fulfill his promise and protect Lily’s child.


If it was all about how the child felt, then there was a loophole there.



Severus found a bakery that was just opening and bought a crossaint and a cup of coffee, then sat down at one of the old cherrywood tables.

Why didn’t he do that more often? Just go to Diagon Alley for breakfast. He could easily apparate, after all.

It was lovely quiet, the room smelled of freshly baked bread and coffee, not a student in sight …

He finished his meal and stepped out into the early morning, half expecting to see Lily walk down the street …

Right. That was why he didn’t breakfast in Diagon Alley more often.

He didn’t deserve it.


When he arrived at the castle, there was only half an hour left before breakfast. Severus was about to firecall the headmaster’s office when two puzzle pieces aligned in his head.

The girl mentioned in the witch’s account had wanted to be pretty. The hag had offered to make Severus good at Quidditch. It logically followed …

She must have offered Potter something. She must have told Potter exactly what the potion would do – minus the unfortunate side effects of enabling the hag to suck the marrow from her bones, that was.

Yet why would a child have a reason to …

His blood ran cold. There was only one reason he could fathom – and he dearly hoped he was wrong, yet if he was not … then it was better Dumbledore did not know about it, so that he couldn’t stop Severus from murdering Petunia, and especially Petunia’s husband.


Severus locked his office door and sat down at his desk with a sheet of parchment and a quill.

He had about twenty minutes to write a letter.

„Dear Miss Potter“

No, that wouldn’t work. She’d immediately know he was a teacher. The normal way to talk to a child was using their first name.

Merlin, he felt like such a creep.

But it was all for Potter’s safety.


„Dear Harriet,

I was a friend of your mother’s.“


That should get her attention. He hoped. In any case, it was the only excuse he could find for writing to her.

„You are now at an age where you might wonder what your parents were like. I did not contact you beforehand, as I did not know whether you were aware you were adopted, but now I presume that your adoptive parents told you already. You could not help but find out once you were at Hogwarts, after all.

Lily Evans was one of the kindest people I ever knew, and my first friend.“


Damn, he couldn’t start crying now.

And did Potter have to know that?

Thinking that she knew a lot about him would probably make her more likely to trust him, though …

„I will gladly answer any questions you have about her, if I can.“

He had not ever willingly talked about Lily. The sacrifices he made to save the Potter brat …

„Your sincerely

The Half-Blood Prince“



Not nearly good enough. Would probably not work. But it was the best plan he had.

If it failed, he would have to tell Dumbledore about his findings and make sure Potter got a good adoptive family before the year was over.



He went to the owlery, sent the letter, then walked at a brisk pace to the Great Hall.


Fortunately, the students were distracted from his unusually late appearance by the arrival of the owls.

Severus sat down at the High Table and watched Potter intently.

The owl with his letter arrive, Potter opened it and briefly talked to Granger about it before pocketing it.

At the distance, it was impossible to tell what Potter thought of the letter.


„How is research on your new project going, Severus?“ Dumbleodore’s tone was casual, it was a question asked between two bites of buttered toast.

By now, he knew the cues well enough. Dumbledore did not want this to be discussed publicly. Or rather … not in front of Quirinus, most likely.

There was something wrong with the man ever since he had returned from his yearlong break and applied for the position of the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher.
And of course, it was Severus’ job to keep an eye on the man. Same as with all previous teachers for the subject, ever since he had started teaching.

„It is … slow“, he replied. „I confirmed that milk thistle is indeed the only antitoxin that will counteract liberty cap. Do you think you could assist me in procuring some?“

Quirinus had never been very interested in herbology, and would hopefully not know that milk thistle was a rather common plant.

„I shall see what I can do.“



Professor Sprout had noticed, but fortunately waited until breakfast was over and they all walked to their respective classrooms and greenhouses before she walked up to him.

„You need milk thistle? I hope none of the students has eaten something wrong?“

„It’s Potter. She has gone and bought some questionable potion in Knockturn Alley. There is long-term damage, so a bezoar is not practical.“

„Oh! I did think she looked a bit under the weather lately. I suggested she ought to see Poppy for the hair loss, but I would never have dreamt that it is that bad.“

He shrugged. „She will live. Probably. Her father always survived his stunts, after all.“


Severus put the whole thing out of his mind for his first double lesson of potions.

When he retired to his office for a short break, he found that the house elf in charge of the owl post had left a letter there.

Addressed to the Half-Blood Prince. Either house elves were able to communicate with owls, or they had their own means of determining for whom a letter was meant.

The handwriting was unmistakable.

He opened the letter.

„Dear Half-Blood Prince,

Please call me Harry. I don’t really feel like a Harriet.
I live with my aunt and uncle and they always told me I’m not theirs, so don’t worry. They never told me anything about my parents, so I don’t know much about my mother.

Can you tell me what her favourite subjects at school were? Did she like her sister?

Yours sincerely

Harry“


Very well. The seed was sown. Hopefully, this would protect the child. Halloween was a dangerous time.

Severus kept his eyes on Potter during the Halloween feast, but he was distracted when Quirrell ran into the hall and stammered something about a troll.

For some reason Dumbledore decided to order the students to go to their common rooms. Did he suspect it was only a distraction and Quirrell had some sinister plan that he would enact in the Great Hall?

Well, at least the Slytherin prefects would be able to deal with a troll.

Severus followed the Gryffindor group. Just to be sure. Just in case Quirrell was working together with the hag …

And indeed, Potter stayed behind with Granger, and the two entered a corridor to the side.

„I can’t believe how stupid boys are“, Granger complained. „To go looking for the troll just because I told him not to.“

„Perhaps you shouldn’t have said that bit about him being bad at magic“, Potter replied.

„But it’s true! If he can’t even get a levitation charm right, how could he fight a troll?“

Severus followed silently.


They rounded a corner, and Severus heard the heavy footsteps of what could only be a troll.

And the scream of a boy.

„Wingardium Leviosa!“


When he came close enough to observe the scene, Severus had to admit that Granger’s levitation charm was flawless.

The boy – it was Ronald Weasley – floated below the ceiling, while a confused troll shook its club at him.

Severus had just performed a silent Levicorpus charm to drag the boy out of the way of danger, when the confused troll decided to attack Granger.

Potter threw herself at the troll, clung to its shoulders and rammed her wand up its nose.

Another Levicorpus charm and she was safely away from the troll. Severus stepped out of the shadows. „What part of go back to your common rooms did you fail to understand? Off with you before the creature recovers from its confusion.“

Severus strode up to the troll. „Expelliarmus!“

That, at least, got Potter’s wand free.

Three stunning spells were needed to incapacitate the creature.

And of course, the children were still there.

Severus handed the troll-snot covered wand to Potter. „What on earth were you thinking? Do you value your own lives so little? Are you so arrogant to think that you could defeat a troll with the two spells you have learnt yet, Granger?“

„Hermione said it was a bad idea“, Ronald Weasleys voice came from the ceiling. „My brothers bet me I wouldn’t manage to defeat a troll, and Hermione told me it was nonsense and no first year had a chance. They only tried to save me, professor.“

„Hmph.“ Severus used a Levicorpus to drag the boy down to the floor, then ended the levitation charm. „Thirty points from Gryffindor and you can tell your housemates it is all your fault.“

Perhaps it would be advisable to be somewhat kinder to Potter?

He turned to look at the girls. „And five points each for the two of you, for a recklessness that befits your house. Your father would be proud, Potter. He would also be proud to learn that you already earnt detention.“

Damn, where had that come from? He had intended to be nice!

But whom was he fooling? He just wasn’t a nice person.

After returning to his office, he wrote his letter to Potter.

„Dear Harry,

what do you mean, you do not feel like a Harriet? What would a Harriet be like, in your opinion?

Your mother’s favourite subject was potions, but she was also very good at charms. She was a member of the then potions teacher’s club for especially gifted students.

To answer your other question, yes, Lily did like her sister, Petunia. They were very close as children, but then Lily found out she was a witch, and Petunia was not.
Petunia was angry that her sister could do something she could not, I think. Lily was very sad that her sister did not like her anymore.

I assume Petunia is the aunt you live with? How does she treat you?

Yours sincerely,

The Half-Blood Prince“


Just when he had finished the letter, the fire flared green. Severus hid the letter under the book that was still lying on his desk and stood to greet Dumbledore.

„To what do I owe the honour of your visit?“

„We have not yet talked about your research.“

Oh right.

„I found the hag who sold Potter the potion. As you instructed, I did not attempt to kill her, but merely sought to gain information. She told me that, by not loving her, Potter’s relatives gave her to the hags.“

Dumbledore paled. „This should not have been possible. Lily’s sacrifice …“

„It seems to be more about how the child feels. A boarding school environment might not quite be what is needed. Perhaps you should place Potter with a new family right now. She can spend Christmas there.“ Twelfthtide was a time even more dangerous than Halloween.

„If Lily’s sacrifice does not protect her from hags, I can think of no safer place for her than Hogwarts.“

Hogwarts was not capable of protecting her. That was well established by now. „What about the hag sucking her bones out?“

„Harriet has only been here two months. Her emotional state will change over time. She has just started making friends.“

Severus was quite sure friends her own age would not help. It just wasn’t the same thing as a parent, not even close. „You need to make her feel wanted. Invite her to your office and have a chat with her or something. According to my source, an apprenticeship worked, but Potter has not even spoken to you personally, has she?“

Dumbledore smiled sadly. „You forget that I visited the hospital wing. I fear I am not Harriet’s favourite person right now.“

Right.

„Professor Sprout or Professor Flitwick?“ The child’s own head of house would have been the logical choice, but Severus had a feeling that Professor McGonagall wasn’t very good at being kind. Oh sure, she would always favour her Gryffindors … something he still felt bitter about … but he had witnessed the way she treated subpar students. How impatient and annoyed she could get ...

She wasn’t much better than him, really.


„I am sure they already do their best to make her feel welcome. As they do with all students.“


Severus gave up. „Then we can only hope for the best.“


He took his letter to the owlery after that.




Potter survived the night, and turned up for detention punctually, along with Granger and Weasley.


Severus gave Granger and Weasley some pots to scrub, then turned to Potter. „Considering your fragile health, physical work does not seem advisable. You will instead write an essay about hags.“

Scaring them straight was a time-honoured tactic of parents everywhere. He could at least try.

He put the Defense Against The Dark Arts textbook in front of Potter. „I expect a well-rounded essay that contains all necessary information, in your own words.“

Potter did not look healthier than before. Perhaps worse. She worked slowly, seemingly unable to focus.

When Granger and Weasley were finished with their task, Potter was still writing.

„You may leave.“

She got up and he collected the essay.

It was a terrible essay, the words of the original text only changed slightly, none of her own experiences added …
But he would not make her write another one. It would not be wise to alienate her.

During breakfast in the Great Hall, Severus watched Harriet receive his next letter. This time, she did not immediately read it, but just pocketed it.

The answer was on his desk after the last lesson for the day.


„Dear Half-Blood Prince,

I don’t feel like a Harriet because I should have been a boy. That’s all. It’s not like I think the name is bad or anything.

My mum was good at potions? Really? I can’t imagine. I hate potions. I mean, I’m not really good at it, I always forget some ingredient, but mostly I hate it because the teacher is so nasty. He gave my friends and me detention just yesterday, because we were attacked by a troll. As if that wasn’t bad enough!

What was the teacher called when you went to school?

Yes, I live with Aunt Petunia. We don’t really get along, but I don’t think it’s because she wants to be able to do magic. She hates magic.

Yours sincerely,

Harry“


He should have known this would eventually be a problem. Of course Potter would write about him.

At least, right now, there weren’t any insults in there, so perhaps he could nip it in the bud.


„Dear Harry,

it is difficult for me to grasp why you think you should have been any different. Your parents certainly thought you perfect the way you were, back then, and I feel inclined to agree.“

At least he did not think she would be better as a boy. She might be better if she wasn’t a foolish child who bought potions from mysterious strangers, but … nevermind that.


„When Lily and I went to school, the potions teacher was Professor Slughorn. He was rather lazy and I did not like the way he favoured the students he thought would go on to become famous, but we did not let that keep us from being good at potions.“

Perhaps, there was an opportunity here, to get closer to the child … Merlin, he felt like such a creep.

„Do not hesitate to ask me if you have any questions on potions. Or if you need help with any other subject. I am confident I can help you with everything you will encounter in year one.

I wish I could say I am surprised that you were attacked by a troll, but truth be told, Hogwarts was never really safe, and I had my fair share of encounters with dangerous creatures.“
He should probably ask whether Potter was hurt … even though he already knew she wasn’t … well, at least writing these letters was an intellectual challenge.

„Were you hurt very badly? Trolls have been known to kill adult witches and wizards, so I would be very worried if I did not already know that you survived.

Trying to keep you out of such dangerous situations by punishing you for being attacked does not make much sense, after all you didn’t intend to be attacked by a troll, did you?

Adults can be rather irrational when they are worried about children’s safety.“

Thinking about it … that was absolutely correct. How on earth had he assumed the detention would keep Potter from doing something this stupid again, when the very real danger of getting killed couldn’t?

He must have assumed that Potter feared detention more than she feared death. Which was likely not the case.


And of course, something about seeing a face vaguely similar to that of his old enemy made him forget all his carefully laid plans.


Viewing Potter as abstract entity, it was much easier to keep his anger in check.

„In fact, I am worried that your aunt might have unfairly punished you for your accidental magic, now that you tell me she has grown to hate magic.“

Should he try and explain the sour grapes phenomenon to Potter? Tell her that Petunia hated magic so much because she could not have it?

It was not that important.

Better to use the space to make Potter feel … loved.

The irony of the situation … Severus was probably the one person who actually liked Potter the least. Of those who did not want the girl dead, that was.

Why couldn’t Petunia have gotten over herself and at least pretended to love her dead sister’s only child?
For someone who had never met the child’s other parent, how hard could it be?

And then there was that other suspicion that was eating away at him ever since he had first had it.

„Does your uncle hate magic, too? What is he like?“

Not that the child was likely to be forthcoming with intimate details, but perhaps, a general feel for the situation …

Should he add a reassurance that he would always be there to intervene if Potter’s living situation got worse?

Every way he could think of wording such a reassurance sounded creepy even in his own head.

A male stranger approaching a child and offering to remove her from her family, without said family knowing where she went … there was no way that was not creepy.


In the end, he just signed the letter and sent it.



Potter’s answer contained no confirmation of his worst fears. Uncle Vernon apparently hated magic, too, and showed no kindness towards the girl, and yes, aunt Petunia did punish her by having her stay in her room for days, but nothing worse was mentioned.


Severus’ reassurance that she was perfect as she was was left unanswered – probably an emotionally difficult topic. He hoped she didn’t feel he was being creepy by, in a way, complimenting her.

He sighed and took another sip of coffee. This whole letter writing business was an exercise in creepiness, and he could only hope the result would justify the means.

But that had always been his modus operandi, hadn’t it?

Dumbledore probably relied on it, too. Relied on it that Severus would do the morally reprehensible things that needed doing, as he had done as spy.

When he had offered to do anything whatsoever if only Lily was kept safe, he had hoped, selfish as that was, for a way to get out. By that time, he had known the Dark Lord was a monster. Perhaps because he had realized Lily was not safe, perhaps because the Dark Lord planned to murder a baby.

It had been foolish to think so. Dumbledore needed a spy, and a spy would have to get his hands dirty to be trusted, and Severus’ hands were already dirty.

He would never again have a pure soul, or a clean conscience, so what did it matter if more evil was added?

December approached, and with one letter per day, Severus was making good progress. Potter had asked him for advice on homework a couple of times, and actually managed to improve her performance in potions.

Severus had not praised her, not in his role as teacher, but he had remarked on it.

He had not found out much about her home life, except that she did not like to talk about it. There were only very few half-sentences, squeezed in here and there, on how cousin Dudley was praised, cousin Dudley got birthday presents, cousin Dudley had pets he could mistreat.

It was very clear that Lily’s sister and her husband were capable of loving a child, they just chose to not love Harriet.

And while the girl usually claimed not to like her relatives much, Severus could see, between the lines, a burning envy whenever the cousin was mentioned.


On the day of the first snowfall, it was Severus’ turn to watch the students while they ran around and threw snowballs at each other.

He noted, with some surprise, that Potter was running around, too.

When Madam Hooch had commented that the girl was good at flying, he had been distracted by memories of James Potter, but now he realized – being good at flying meant she had more energy.

The hair loss had stopped, too. At least Potter didn’t leave a trail of hairs everywhere she went anymore.

Severus was cautiously optimistic.





Then, one day, James Potter walked into his classroom.

Only not really.

It was still Harriet, but she had black hair now.

Severus felt tempted to make a scathing comment on how the little celebrity thought she didn’t get enough attention … but he refrained.

Of course she wanted attention. Like any neglected child would. It would be cruel to ridicule her for it.


In the evening, as most evenings now, a letter arrived.


„Dear Half-Blood Prince,

today, there was an accident in Charms and Professor Flitwick had to help me, and now my hair is black.
It was black when I was little, but then it changed colour. I guess that was accidental magic? But now I can’t do it again. Is there a spell for it?
I don’t really like having black hair.

Thank you for helping me with my potions essay. I got an E for it, and Snape never gives anyone an O, so it’s basically the best grade!

Is it snowing where you live? We had a snowball fight today!

Yours sincerely,

Harry“



Ah. That would explain it. Of course the Potter spawn had black hair.

Well, it was easily fixed.

Severus wrote a letter instructing Potter on the Colovaria charm, and confirmed that, yes, he had seen the snow, too.

After some consideration he added a comment on how he hoped she had thought to wear a hat, scarf and gloves while out in this weather.
He knew for a fact that she had not worn any of those.



The next day, Potter still did not wear a hat or a scarf, but had put on dragon hide gloves. Whether because Severus had reminded her of it or because she had noticed her hands getting cold while making snowballs, he did not know.
Her hair was blonde again. She must have learnt the charm extremely fast.

Lost in his thoughts, he did not properly pay attention and was hit in the face by a snowball.

He had his wand out ready to curse someone when he noticed the horrified faces of the three Gryffindor first-years who were in the snowball fight team opposing Potter’s.

Perhaps, just perhaps, it had been an accident.

„Who did that?“, he asked quietly, wiping the remaining snow off his face. The snowball had not been very hard, and definitely did not contain any stones. It could have been meant for a child.

He waited a moment, not really expecting an answer, when a trembling hand rose.

Neville Longbottom.

It really must have been an accident. Longbottom would never dare to attack a teacher … but then, Longbottom would also not dare to admit to attacking a teacher, would he?

„Detention. Tomorrow morning after breakfast. We will be going outside, dress accordingly.“ He gave a curt nod and walked away.

His original plan had been to take points from Gryffindor, ten for each suspect, but now that Longbottom had owned up to his crime, it seemed only fair to have mercy on him.
That evening, a letter from Potter arrived.

Severus sat down to read it in his private quarters, a cup of tea in one hand, the letter in the other.

Potter thanked him for the Colovaria charm, proudly stated that she had worn gloves, and … what?

He jumped, scalded himself with hot tea and had to spend a quarter of an hour putting some essence of dittany on the wound and drying his robe.

Then he sat down again, without a cup of tea this time, to re-read.

„You won’t tell anyone, right?“ The paragraph began. „When Hagrid took me to Diagon Alley, he had to drink something for his upset stomach after Gringotts, so I walked around a little and got a bit lost.
I met a woman who offered to trade me the potion I needed for a fingernail clipping. The potion was supposed to turn me into a boy if I took it once every week for three months, but after two months, Snape caught me drinking it and dragged me to the hospital wing, and Madam Pomfrey fussed over me a lot, and when I got back to my dorm, someone had stolen the next five doses!

Hermione says it can’t have been Snape because boys can’t get into the girl dorms, but he’s a teacher, so who knows, right? (Do you know?)

They told me the woman was an evil hag who eats children, but that sounds like something from a fairy tale. I mean, hags are mentioned in the book for Defence, unless Snape faked that one, and Ron said his mum warned him about them, but they wouldn’t just let them walk around in Diagon Alley, would they?

Anyway, what I wanted to ask was, do you know how to brew that potion? It’s possible and you are a genius, so I figured you would be able to, right?

I know it is probably a lot of effort, but I can pay you! You did say that you don’t like your job much and would prefer to invent new potions full time.

My parents left me a lot of money, but you probably know that. So if the ingredients are expensive or anything, that’s not a problem.

It’s the thing I want most in the world. If I was a boy, everything would be okay.

So … please?“



This foolish, idiotic, imbecile, terminally daft child!

No doubt Madam Pomfrey and Dumbledore had told her, time and again, how dangerous the potion she had poisoned herself with was, and now she wanted to take it again?

She must have noticed, even if Madam Pomfrey had not told her the whole truth about what was happening to her bones, the lack of energy and the hair loss she had gone through.

Severus wanted to slap her like he had never wanted to slap a child before.

Taking a deep breath, he folded the letter. Fortunately the child was not here. He would not slap her. Why had he even thought of it?

Probably because his mother had slapped him the time he’d tried to stand between her and his father.

He’d fled, in tears, and only realized what she had done when she came to his room, with a black eye and an arm that looked broken, to apologize.

It was strange … he could not even recall every crying after his father hit him. Father hitting him was just par of the course.

But mum … mum had only done it this one time. And she had apologized.


No, he would not ever physically hurt a child. He abhorred the very idea. It was a good thing that Dumbledore had abolished the practice of caning students.
Severus would have found it hard to gain a reputation as stern teacher if he had been the only teacher to never apply physical punishment.


After making himself another cup of tea and drinking it, Severus went to his private desk to write an answer.

„Dear Harry,

I’m glad to hear you thought to wear gloves. You don’t want to have to go to the hospital wing for a pepperup potion and sit in class with your ears smoking all day, believe me!

It sounds like you do not trust the matron’s judgement? Harry, I must caution you against using potions from questionable sources.

Would they let child-eating monsters walk around in Diagon Alley? Yes Harry, „they“ if by that you mean the Wizengamot and the minister of magic, certainly would and, in fact, do.

During the time I went to Hogwarts, one of my fellow students was a werewolf. I have been made to swear to never tell anyone who it was, but he did go to Hogwarts, and the precautions taken to keep him away from the students at full moon were flimsy at best.

This is a secret, and I am only telling you so that you know how dangerous the world really is.

Madam Pomfrey already was the matron when I was a student, and I trust her judgment. If she told you that potion was bad for you, then it was.

You may have been under the impression that it worked, but such things are easy to fake. It is, for example, certainly possible to induce beard growth in women (you may have noticed that it occurs naturally in elderly ladies), but that does not mean they are in any way male. There is no potion known to me that would permanently turn a girl into a boy.
I am no expert on the side effects of such potions, but no doubt, Madam Pomfrey told you what they were or could be in the future.


There are many ways magic can temporarily alter your outwards appearance, as you might already have learnt in Transfiguration.

Feel free to experiment with transfiguration and charms, but be certain to not use anything classified as curse on yourself. Those are meant to do harm, and are often not reversible.“

Severus faintly remembered rumours that a girl in his year had used an infertility curse as contraception and had come to regret it when she learnt that Madam Pomfrey could not reverse it.

„The Colovaria charm is harmless enough, and any accidents you have while shrinking or enlarging body parts are usually reversible, although you should take care not to be alone when you try them - if you shrink yourself down to the size of a house fly, you run quite the risk of getting killed on the way to the hospital wing.“

It was probably her breasts she wanted to be rid of. He hadn’t noticed any, but it wasn’t like he had really looked, and she made an effort to hide them with her bad posture, and he could so very well imagine her uncle commenting on how she was becoming a woman …

Bile rose in his throat at the very thought.

At least if she used a shrinking charm, Madam Pomfrey could reverse it once Harriet realized that there were no child molesters in Hogwarts.

Though of course there were teenage boys …

He would address that issue once Harriet told him about it.

„In what way, do you think, would your life be better if you were a boy? I have always been a boy and felt that my life was pretty terrible when I was your age.“


Was there anything else he could add to encourage her to tell him what was wrong?

No, better leave it at that, he didn’t want to seem nosy.

Hopefully, he was wrong with his suspicions, and her uncle was not the reason why she hated her female body.

Because he couldn’t imagine Dumbledore letting him keep his job if he applied his favourite trademark curse to a muggle’s genitals.

“As for your suspicions of who confiscated the rest of the potion, I am confident that would have been your head of house. In my time, there were rumours that male teachers could get into the girl dorms in case of dire emergency, but I have never heard of it happening. If there is need to fetch a female student who has been taken sick to the hospital wing, a male head of house would usually send a female prefect.” That was what he did, in any case.
It was possible to overrule the safety charms with a secret spell, but doing so would leave a glowing red mark on the teacher doing so, one that could be only removed in a very complicated process that would require most, if not all other teachers to agree that the breach of privacy had been necessary.
Not really worth the hassle if no one was in immediate danger of dying.


The next morning at breakfast, Severus watched Harriet like a hawk, but she did not read his letter there at the table, just pocketed it.

He noticed something else instead. Neville Longbottom was terrified and didn’t eat even just a bite of toast.
Unsurprising, but annoying.

Severus made a detour to the kitchen before he went to his office.

He had only just sat down behind his desk when there was a hesitant knock at the door.

„Enter.“

It was Longbottom, now looking more terrified than ever. At least the boy was dressed appropriately, with a red-golden wooly cap and scarf added to the school uniform.

Severus got up and shoved a sandwich into the boy’s gloved hands. „Follow me and stay close until we reach the edge of the forest, at which point I expect you to have eaten this sandwich. Once we enter the forest, you will walk in front of me.“

„We – we are going to the Forbidden Forest?“

„Indeed.“


At first, things were uneventful. He walked, more slowly than he would usually have, keeping an eye on the child.

They reached the clearing without incident, and just as he had hoped, it was covered in iceflowers, their translucent petals sparkling in the morning sun.

„Keep your gloves on at all times“, he instructed Longbottom. „Touching these will make your skin freeze.“

He took several glass jars from the bag he had been carrying and placed them on the snowy ground. „One flower for each jar. To pluck them, just bend the stems, they will break.“


Longbottom did not look scared anymore. So apparently Professor Sprout had been right, the boy really liked herbology.

Severus did a small share of the work, too, always listening, always watching.

Then, just as Longbottom put the last flower in the last jar, there was a distant, muffled sound of hooves on the snow.

Centaurs did not usually hurt children, but it didn’t hurt to be careful. „Stay close to me. If anything approaches, get behind me. Leave the talking to me, answer politely if directly spoken to, and if it is a lady, don’t gawk.“

He put the jars back into the bag and shouldered it, then waited.

Longbottom did not get any closer to him than he had already been, but it would suffice.


At last, the centaur was there. A young, blonde one who did not look very threatening.

He bowed slightly. „Good morning, Professor.“

Severus bowed his head. „Good morning. Have I inadvertently trespassed on your territory?“

“No. I have a message from the elders. They are … displeased. An ancient evil has taken residence in the woods.”

As if things weren’t bad enough already. “They expect the headmaster to sort it out?”

The centaur inclined his head. “I know it cannot have been intended, but you humans summoned it. We do not know your word for it, but we call it the One Who Takes Foals.”

Damnations. He could see where this was going.

“You should keep this young one closer”, the centaur advised, nodding in Longbottom’s direction.

“He does not want to get closer”, Severus replied. “He is scared of me.” He was not usually this honest with humans, but centaurs could get angry if they sensed a lie.

Despite their truth, his words made the centaur frown. He turned to Longbottom. “Is that true? Do you fear your teacher will harm you?”

Silently, the boy shook his head and stepped a bit closer to Severus.

The centaur, still frowning, looked at Severus again. “There is a child in the castle who feels unwanted.”

Severus sighed. “The headmaster knows and has taken insufficient action. I shall talk to him again. Is it a problem to you, though? It would not take any centaur foals, would it?”

“We love and cherish all foals of the herd, but it can always happen. A foal is rebuked for being reckless, feels rejected and …” The centaur jerked his head. “Is gone.”

So it really was about the child’s emotional state more than anything else. “I understand. It will be addressed.”

After the centaur had left, Severus turned to Longbottom. “How do you get along with your parents?”

The boy hesitated. “W-well enough?”

As far as Severus knew, they were good enough people. The fact that the prophecy he had so foolishly told the Dark Lord of was about a girl had spared them from getting attacked. A small, selfish part of Severus wished there had been more confusion about which child the prophecy meant.

“I recommend that you think about just how well you get along with your parents while we walk back. Also, hold on to my sleeve.”

Of course, the boy did not move, so Severus just grabbed him by the collar of his robes. “Another thing you learnt today: When a centaur deigns to dispense his wisdom to you, you listen. He said to keep you close, and close you will stay.”


The way back to the castle seemed to take an eternity.

Severus released his hold on Longbottom’s collar the moment they entered the castle.

“You may leave. Go to the hospital wing if you feel in need of a calming draught.”

He did not tell the boy to not talk about what he had seen. Gryffindors never did as they were told, anyway, and him forbidding it would only make it more interesting to the students.


Dumbledore appeared completely unconcerned about the centaur’s warning. “I will ask Hagrid to keep an eye on things”, he replied when Severus had finished his report.

“Don’t you understand?! They’ve come for Potter!”

“So you have come to care about her?” The old man peered at him over his half-moon-shaped classes, eyes twinkling with a smile.

“I am not – that’s not – do you want her safe, or not?”

Dumbledore smiled. “Oh, I daresay she is as safe as can be, Severus.”



Had the old meddler somehow found out about the letters? It was impossible to tell. Severus’ occlumency was superior to that of the man who had taught him, but an attempt at legilimency would surely be noticed.

After returning to his office, he was not surprised to find a new letter waiting for him.

Mindful of what had happened last time, he did not drink anything while reading.

Harriet seemed upset that he agreed with her hated teacher.

“You sound just like Dumbledore”, she accused him. “So it has side effects, what’s the problem? Many potions have side effects.”

She ranted on for a good few paragraphs on how her true self was male and she felt bad and wrong all the time, without ever really mentioning why, exactly, she felt that way. Likely, she did not know herself.

At last, she made a rather clever observation: “You told me there is no way to permanently turn me into a boy … but there is a way to do it for a while?”

Merlin, he should have watched his words better.

Now she had asked, and he did not want to lie. He regularly mentioned Polyjuice Potion as example, and Harriet was friends with the youngest Weasley boy, who might talk to his older brothers … no, he would not attempt to deceive her.

One thing he had learnt in spying on the Dark Lord was that you had to choose your lies.

Every added lie increased the risk of getting caught.


Since it was a Saturday, his answer was promptly answered by another letter – he sure hoped Harriet never noticed that her owl just flew around the castle.

“Dear Half-Blood Prince,

would you brew a Polyjuice potion for me? I just want to know what it feels like, just for a couple hours. I can pay, I’ve got loads and loads of gold.

Couldn’t you find a muggle boy who looks similar to me? Just perhaps not as skinny. It would be the best Christmas present ever.

Please?

Your friend

Harry”


Severus frowned. Was she out of her mind?

He reached for parchment and quill.

“Dear Harry”, he wrote

“Money is of no consequence. You could not bribe me into this with all the money in Gringotts.”

A bold claim to make. He remembered a time in his life where he would have done almost everything for a sum of money that could keep him fed for even just a month.

When had he acquired this kind of morals? Much as he would have liked to think that Lily’s friendship had made him a better person, he was pretty sure he had not been this concerned about the dignity and privacy of random muggles back when she had still been his friend. Or back when she had been … alive.

Perhaps it was thanks to Dumbledore. Oh, not Dumbledore’s example – the man was less of a good person than Lily, overall. Using people like chess pieces left and right.

But having a decently paying job meant that Severus was now able to afford having principles.

Rich people were often so very proud that ‘money didn’t matter’ to them, but it was no achievement, really. If you had it, of course it didn’t matter.

When someone had to worry where their next meal came from, or even just whether they would be able to afford a new pair of shoes once the old ones were beyond repair … that was where things got interesting.

Why then, did Harriet not have principles? Money was obviously no issue. But of course, the Potter blood …

No, he was being unfair. She was a child. A child who had never been given any moral guidance, at that.

Did her disregard for the privacy of others hint that no one had ever respected her privacy? Did she think it no big deal to just steal someone’s body and wear it because her body, too, had been treated as an object to use?

Severus shivered, even though there was a crackling fire burning in the fireplace of his office.

Perhaps he was being too pessimistic. Lily had often accused him of it, jokingly, back when …

He swallowed, willing the lump in his throat away. Now was not the time.

Yes, perhaps he was just suspecting the worst because where he was concerned, the worst often happened.

Harriet was the Girl-Who-Lived, beloved by everyone and his Crup.

Her lack of ethics might be down to just a child’s innocence (innocence Severus had never been in full possession of) and a lack of guidance. Fortunately, he could amend the latter.

“You have not yet answered my question. In which way, exactly, would your life be better if you were a boy, all other things remaining the same? Would your relatives treat you differently? Do you think your fellow students would treat you differently?

If there is anything in your life that you want and think you can only get by becoming a boy, I am willing to help you achieve it, but I will not violate the privacy of some innocent muggle boy just so that you can experiment with your body.

How would you feel if someone just stole your body and wore it like a piece of clothing?

I acknowledge that you are too young to wholly understand the implications of what you are asking me to do, so I will not hold it against you, but my answer is no.”


He hesitated, then signed his reply with “your friend”, just as Harriet had done.




He sent his letter in the evening. The answer came soon after breakfast the next day.

Harriet was enraged.

“You are not my friend”, she had hastily scribbled on the parchment. “You’re just like Dumbledore and Madam Pomfrey and Snape!”

Oh, the irony. He could only wish he was as powerful as Dumbledore … or as good and innocent as Madam Pomfrey.

This was followed by an angry tirade in which she told him she hated him, never wanted anything to do with him again, and …

“… I hope my mum stopped being friends with you. She did, didn’t she? You never write about what she did when she was out of school.”



He felt himself tremble with anger. The ungrateful brat was just like her father. Why had he even tried saving her from her own idiocy? Clearly she did not deserve it in the least.

Angered beyond reason, he fetched parchment and quill and wrote a reply.

His feelings flowed freely from the quill. At last, he could tell Potter what he thought of him … her, no matter.

“… and I only tried to save you in the first place because I thought that’s what your mother would have wanted, but seeing as you are such an ill-mannered, idiotic and ungrateful brat, I do not think she …”

Severus hesitated. Looked at what he had just written. The quill fell from his trembling hand.

He sat there, motionless, for quite a while, and if tears streamed down his face … he would never admit it to anyone.

Lily would never have ceased loving her child. Never.


Not for some childish outburst, certainly.


He wiped his eyes and steeled himself. What did he care, actually? It was not like he really liked the child or anything.

No. He was saving her because that was what Lily would have wanted.

What the ungrateful brat thought did not matter in the least.


If he left her to cool down for a week or so, she would come to her senses and realize that she really needed his help.

He threw the letter in the fireplace and made sure it burned up completely.


On Monday, Potter messed up the potion she and Granger were brewing, so badly Granger could not save it.

On Thursday, she put her hand up and asked about Polyjuice potion.

Severus regarded her silently for a moment. “This is a very rare and advanced potion”, he said at last. “Where did you hear about it?”


She mumbled something about reading about it somewhere.

Interesting. She instinctively knew to lie about exchanging letters with an adult whom she knew virtually nothing about.

“Somewhere? In the restricted section, more likely. Which you have no permission to access.”

“I wasn’t in the restricted section!” Potter protested.

He raised an eyebrow. “Oh? Then you surely will easily be able to write an essay about the brewing process, side effects and ethical concerns of the Polyjuice potion until next Thursday. Otherwise I will have to assume you sneaked into the restricted section and punish you accordingly.”


If she wanted to evade the punishment, she had no choice but to apologize, now. Not that he really needed an apology, he didn’t care what the brat thought of him, but he could not write to her if she did not apologize first.
After all, she had told him in no uncertain terms she never wanted to hear from him again, and he had to respect that if he wanted her to keep believing he was just some friend of her mother’s who’d written to her, out of the kindness of his heart, to provide her with information.


Severus waited patiently. Friday passed, as did Saturday. On Sunday, he did not see Potter at lunch.

At the time, he was only slightly concerned that the child might be losing weight she could not afford to lose, trying to get into the restricted section while everyone else was in the Great Hall.

Then, around sunset, a letter arrived.


It was not in Potter’s handwriting.


“Dear Mr Half-Blood Prince,

I’m sorry to disturb you, but we are worried about Harry. She was so strange after breakfast, like she didn’t even notice I was talking to her, I thought she was ignoring me on purpose and then I came back from the library and she was gone. We went to Professor McGonagall, our head of house, but she says Harry is probably just exploring the castle.
Hagrid would listen, I think, but he’s not in his hut and looking for him in the Forbidden Forest would be stupid, wouldn’t it?

Please, sir, can you do something?
I know Harry has said some nasty things in her last letter, but I’m sure she didn’t mean it, not really. She’s just, I guess she’s starting puberty, and teenagers are always awful, it doesn’t mean anything.

Ron and I are worried Harry might have been taken to the Forbidden Forest. Neville had to go there for detention with Professor Snape a while ago and he said a centaur warned them that there’s something evil there. Professor Snape told him to think of his parents to stay safe, and Harry doesn’t have parents to think about …

You will probably wonder why I don’t just ask Professor Snape to help, but, well, Harry probably told you he’s not very nice. If Professor McGonagall doesn’t listen, he will not listen either.
And I suspect he might be planning to steal something Professor Dumbledore hid in the school, so I don’t exactly trust him.

Our teacher for Defense against the Dark Arts is nice, but frightened of everything, I can’t imagine he could help.

Harry also said the teachers believe she made a deal with a hag. If it is a hag who has taken Harry, you will be able to defeat her, will you? They don’t seem to be very powerful, from everything I have read.

Please, sir, if you can apparate to Hogsmeade, send me a letter immediately.


Yours sincerely,

Hermione Granger



Why did the idiot girl have to write such a long letter? Just informing him that Potter was missing would have been sufficient.


“Dear Miss Granger,

do NOT attempt to search for Harriet yourself. I will be in the Forbidden Forest before it is fully dark, and I will do my best to extract your friend from whatever trouble she landed herself in.

You should go and talk to the headmaster. Dumbledore is more likely to listen than any other teacher, and is also immensely powerful.

If, for some reason, you find yourself being foolish enough to venture into the Forbidden Forest against my advice, do think of your parents as much as you can, and remember that you can trust the centaurs.

Yours sincerely,

The Half-Blood Prince”



Another few minutes wasted, but he was almost sure the foolish children planned to go and search for their friend themselves if he didn’t answer in time.

For the first time ever, he rang the bell string in the corner of his office.

Moments later, a house elf appeared and asked what he needed.

“Give this to one of the school owls”, Severus instructed her, just folding the letter. “Then tell the headmaster that Potter is missing, probably hag-related, and I am going to search the Forbidden Forest.” He took a deep breath. “Please.”


In dealing with humans, he never bothered with politeness, but humans also usually hated him for it.
Somehow it seemed wrong to be rude to a being who would not despise him in return.
Like kicking someone who was already on the ground.

Severus grabbed his cloak and ran outside, not even bothering to check if the house elf had disapparated.

He ran half of the way, then remembered that he was a wizard and summoned the one school broom he knew Madam Hooch had always lying outside in case of emergency.


Just as he had promised, he made it to the edge of the forest in the last sunlight.

Leaving the broom leant against a tree, he ventured deeper into the forest.

The centaurs would be able to tell him where the hag was. Then … he would get Harriet out, whether alive or cut from the hag’s stomach.

Harry woke up when she stood in knee-deep in the snow on a forest clearing.

The last thing she could remember was Hermione telling her she would go to the library.

Before that … breakfast. There had been no letter from the Half-Blood Prince again. Harry had hoped he would apologize.

He had not. Of course not. Why would he? He had never cared about her in the first place.

She felt hot tears well up in her eyes, quickly cooling off as they rolled down her cheeks. Her throat constricted.

There was no adult in the whole world who cared about her. Being a celebrity didn’t change that.


“Why so sad, darling?”


“You are not wanted at the castle.”

“But we want you.”

An ominous cackle followed those words.

Harry saw them advance towards her. Most of them looked like extremely ugly old women, but there was something off about them. Even the two who looked beautiful at first glance were … wrong, somehow, in a way that made her shiver. Somehow, their mouths were too large, their jawbones too wide ...
Some were dressed in rags, some in expensive garments. Hags. They came from all directions, seven of them.

She reached for her wand, then realized she had left it back in her dorm.

Her fists were here only weapon now, but try as she might, her arms would not move fast enough. It was as though she was swimming through syrup.

They dragged her to a fir tree and bound her there, hands behind her, pressed to the rough, cold bark, the hemp rope cutting into her wrists.


Then they started a fire in the middle of the clearing, and one of them brought a cauldron.

A very large cauldron.

“Yes, this is for you”, a hag said, winking at her. “A nice hot bath.”

Several hags cackled at that, and Harry thought she heard some whisper about what a delicious meal she would make.

A cold shiver ran over her, even though she was so cold already. They would really eat her. Everything she had written in that stupid essay for Snape had been true.


It was about lunch time when the water begun to boil. Harry felt hungry, and for a brief moment thought of her friends who by now would be having lunch in the Great Hall. Would they? Or would they have gotten worried and told someone she was missing?

Surely they would come to her rescue. That thought gave her a little hope.

If only they arrived before she became lunch herself ...

“Isn’t she ripe yet?”, one of the hags grumbled.

“Not yet. Too much hope left. She will be ready in the evening, at the latest.”


Hope. Was that what kept them from eating her?

“My friends will be here before the evening”, she told the hags.


“Your friends?”, one taunted. “Tasty little witches and wizards? We will be so very pleased to meet them, won’t we?”

They howled with laughter.


“I have adult friends, too!”, she threatened. She would just have to pretend … hoping it was enough …

“The friend you told you hate him?”, a hag with yellowish white hair and yellow teeth taunted.

“The one you mocked for the fact your mother didn’t want to be friends with him anymore?”, one who looked younger than the others and wore a nice dress added.

“You really hurt him. He’ll never forgive you.”

“She was his only real friend, you know?”

How could they know all this?

She had not meant to hurt him. Not really. Just … just enough so he would feel sorry for telling her no.
If she had known he didn’t have any other friends … just like her …
It was hard to hold back the tears.

Of course he would never forgive her. She herself surely wouldn’t, if she were him.

Relentlessly, the hags taunted and mocked her.

When one told her that gummy bears were made from bone, and that they would use her bones for just that, and perhaps feed them to her unsuspecting friends, she felt something wet and warm on her leg.

She had peed herself.

Biting her lip, she resolved to tell herself that it was just because she hadn’t been able to go to the toilet, bound to a tree as she was.

It wasn’t that she was afraid.

Only … she was.



Hours later, the sunlight began to fade.

Harry was shivering with cold. Cold, not fear, she told herself. The only reason she had not frozen to death was the large fire in front of her.

The fire they would cook her on.

By now, the hags had moved on to talking about the Dursleys.

“No wonder your aunt didn’t want you. You’re such a crybaby.”

“Crying like a girl!”



Harry tried to swallow down the sobs that wanted to escape her throat. She would not give the hags another reason to make fun of her.

Briefly, she thought of her mother. Her brave mother who had died so she could live.

“I’m sorry, mum”, she whispered. The sacrifice had been in vain.

All just because she had been so stupid and made a deal with a hag. Even though aunt Petunia had told Dudley time and again that he was not to talk to strangers.
Not that anyone bothered to tell Harry such things. But she had known it was good advice, because it had been for Dudley, and she had gone and talked to the hag anyways. Because Hagrid was a stranger, too, and she’d been so sure everyone in Diagon Alley was nice.

By now, she had a headache and was feeling dizzy from not eating or drinking anything since breakfast.
Her teeth were chattering with cold, her hands were numb.

The scene before her, hags gathered round a fire, looked like something out of a nightmare.

And by now, she had no hope left whatsoever.

It was dark and no one had come. No one would come for her. Now she felt more sad than afraid. Perhaps it didn’t matter so much when she died. No one would miss her. They clearly didn’t miss her enough to come save her. Or perhaps they had tried. Hermione and Ron might have tried and then been killed by one of the monsters in the forest, and it was all her fault.
That thought felt even worse.


“Oh!” A hag with the ugliest warty face of them all and green skin sniffed the air. “She’s ripe now.”


They advanced on her, and Harry was sure she would die, her bladder disobeying her once more.

When the hags suddenly stopped, she hoped they were put off by the smell, but that was not it.

“Someone is coming”, one whispered.

“He again”, another said sullenly. “We will have to do something about him.”



A hooded figure stepped onto the clearing, not very tall for a man, but rather too tall for a woman. He was wearing a cloak that shimmered silvery, hood drawn deep in his face, so it was not even visible in the firelight.

And he had his wand out, pointing it at the hags.

Hope blossomed in Harry’s chest. This was not one of the Hogwarts teachers, and not Hermione or Ron, but it might, just might, be the Half-Blood Prince.


“I have come to retrieve what is mine”, he said. His voice sounded familiar, strangely enough, but Harry could not quite place it.


“You don’t want the ungrateful brat”, the leader hag, the one with the yellowish hair, said. “Didn’t she say you didn’t deserve a friend?”

“Don’t forget she mocked your poverty. Trying to bribe you.”

“And she hates you.”


“Be that as it may”, the hooded figure replied, voice trembling. Perhaps he was trying to not sound angry. “You have taken what is mine, and I want her back.”


“She will hate you if she sees your face, you know?”

“Ooooch, or if she sees what you hide under your sleeve.”


“You claimed she hated me already”, the man stated calmly. “Now, untie her and give her to me, I am not going to repeat myself.”


“Get her yourself! But be warned, you can only take one of them.”


One of them?

Harry looked around. To her horror, she saw that next to her, there was another Harry. And on her other side, too.

She counted six other Harrys.

Not all of them looked like her.

There was one who had long auburn hair.

One who had black hair and a bob cut that made her strangely resemble Snape.

The one on her right side looked just like her, and the one on her left side was a boy with tame blonde hair, just like Dudley’s.


“Save me!”, they all cried.


“Oh, the classic riddle. If I find the real one, you will let me take her?” The hooded stranger, who Harry hoped was the Half-Blood Prince, now sounded more bored than anything else.


“Choose wisely”, the hags cackled. “We will not hinder you from taking the first one you touch.”


The stranger walked to the beginning of the row, which was out of Harry’s sight.

She waited with bated breath until he appeared again. He took one look at the version of her with a bob cut, then moved to the one with the long auburn hair.

He looked at her for quite a long time. Did he seriously believe Harry had made her hair grow while bound to a tree?

“I knew you would come to rescue me”, the girl breathed. “I was so afraid I would die before I could tell you I have a crush on you.”

The stranger recoiled.

“What kind of man do you take me for?”, he spat in the direction where the hags had gathered. “Disgusting.”

Did he think Harry was disgusting? Or just that version of her?


He moved on to the one next to Harry, the one who looked just like her.

“Thank you, thank you! I’m so sorry for the nasty things I wrote! I was so stupid! How could I ever be so arrogant to think I deserved to be a boy! Please, please save me, I know I don’t deserve it, but please!”

“Seriously, are you hags even trying?”, the stranger muttered.

He huffed and moved on to Harry, sparing her only a short glance.

Her heart sank when he moved on to the Dudley-like boy.

“The hags turned me into a boy! I can be your apprentice and help you with your research and become just like you! I’m strong, not like those whiny girls.”

Another huff. “You are strong? So what? Do you think that makes you better than Harriet? So sorry to disappoint you, but my days of bowing to power are over. I do no longer believe that might makes right. As for becoming just like me – I certainly hope no child ever becomes just like me.”

The stranger turned to look at Harry once more. Even with his face turned directly towards her, it remained in the shadows of his hood. “What do you have to say for yourself?”

She stared at her feet and bit her lip. If she were him, she would probably have rescued the boy. Or the girl who had apologized. “I’m the real one”, she croaked, throat raw from crying.


“No, I’m the real one!”, the girl next to her cried.

They all began to protest that they were the only real Harry.


Just as she was losing hope, a hand touched her shoulder. Then, the rope fell from her hands as though it had been cut.

She staggered forward, then fell on her knees. Her legs felt so weak, and her head was all dizzy.

Arms lifted her up, settling her face against a shoulder covered in silvery fabric. The wool felt warm against her cold skin.

“You told me to never write you again. You never said I could not come visit”, the stranger said, and Harry knew for sure who he was, then.

“I’m sorry”, she mumbled, hiding her face in the warm fabric that had the same woolen smell like her school uniform cloak.

He did not reply to that, but he held her pressed to his chest while he walked through the silent forest, snow scrunching under his feet.




When she woke, the first thing she saw was two kindly blue eyes behind half-moon shaped glasses.

Dumbledore. She was angry with him … or was she? He had been right about the hag thing, after all …

Looking around, she realized she was in the hospital wing. Madam Pomfrey was standing on the other side of the bed, and next to the doors, Snape looking at the potions cabinets.

“How are you feeling, Harry?”

She felt warm, comfortable and … very thirsty and hungry.

“Okay, I guess. Could I have something to drink?”

Dumbledore conjured a glass of water for her. After that, Madam Pomfrey made her drink a potion that made steam come out of her ears.

“Professor Snape found you in the Forbidden Forest”, Dumbledore explained. “Can you remember what happened before that?”

Harry hesitated. “Snape found me?”

“Professor Snape”, Dumbledore corrected her gently. “Yes.”

“There was someone who freed me, but it wasn’t Professor Snape. I … the hags were planning to eat me.”

The Headmaster nodded sagely. “Why did you go into the forest, Harriet?”

“I didn’t … I didn’t mean to. I don’t even remember. One moment I was talking to Hermione, and the next I was there in the forest.” He probably thought she was lying.

“Ah yes. You must have been under their influence. I should have been more watchful.”

How could she have been under the influence of anyone outside the castle? And why hadn’t her friend carried her all the way back?

“Where did Snape – Professor Snape – find me, sir?”

“Just at the edge of the wood. It appeared as if someone had left you there for him to find. You were wrapped in a silver blanket, which vanished the moment he touched it.”

Harriet did not ask who had removed her dirty clothes and put her in pyjamas. Why not? Did the thought it could have been anyone but Madam Pomfrey just not occur to her, or … was she so used to assault that it did not even register?

The boy double of her had not said anything about not being targeted for abuse, but he did not know how this sort of thing worked. Perhaps the hags could not read repressed thoughts.

It was all rather superficial … some of the doubles had looked like him, clearly an attempt to lure him in with the vision of having a child with Lily, and then the Lily-double … he shuddered to think of it. Could they have seen some deeply buried wish to become a child molester in his subconscious?

No, certainly not. They had gotten a glimpse of his memories of Lily and tried to tempt him with her.

The doubles had all been so ridiculously easy to recognize, you’d have to be a right idiot for falling for them.

He had hesitated a tiny bit with the one who had begged him and apologized. It had seemed fake, and yet ... the fear for her life could have made Harriet act strange.

But upon hearing the voice of the real girl … she had been crying. The doubles had not. It had been all too easy.

And that was not even taking into account the fact that she had pissed herself.

He had not noticed that at first – apparently, children’s piss didn’t smell as bad as that of grown men who had drunk too much – but once the stench had hit his nose, he had not doubted anymore.

Once he was satisfied that Harriet was not too upset, he left the hospital wing and went straight to his personal quarters.

How could the hags have gotten at the child already?

Had he not looked out for Twelfthtide?

The calendar said it was the 22th. Tomorrow, most students would take the train home.

And yet …

When he finally realized, he wanted to smack himself. Solstice. Winter Solstice was before Christmas. But Solstice was the original date for the celebration.

Of all the mistakes he could have made, this was the most monumentally stupid one.

After all those astronomy lessons, this was the important detail he forgot about?

Embarrassing.

Fortunately, he would be the only person to ever know. Except for Dumbledore, possibly, but Dumbledore could hardly say anything, having made the same mistake himself.

Contacting Harriet again had been out of the question, of course, but if only he had watched her more closely …

Then he would not be at high risk of her recognizing his voice.
He did not care much about the horrid experience she went through. No, certainly not. Being a Potter, it couldn’t have harmed her much, could it? Getting a good fright would make her less likely to endanger herself in the future, so ultimately, this was a good thing. Yes, a good thing. He had reason to be happy. Not like anything too bad happened to her, did it?

And he would most certainly not start pitying her now. Or having any other feelings, for that matter. All he needed was to pretend to care about her convincingly enough so that she believed it and the hags went away. That was all.



Harriet’s letter found him at the breakfast table.

He took it off the snowy owl as fast as possible. A snowy owl. Of course damn Potter owned a snowy owl.

Why hadn’t he thought to ward against this sort of thing? It was pure luck the girl was impatient enough to always send her answers at unusual times so that it would be transferred to his office by the house elves.

Fortunately, Harriet wasn’t yet there. Perhaps still in the owlery?

He put the letter in his pocket. His colleagues were used to him never reading private letters at the table, so would not suspect anything.

A while later, when he had just decided to get up, go to his office and finally read the damn letter, Harriet entered the hall and shuffled to Gryffindor table.
She looked extremely tired, and when she hugged Granger, he realized that saying goodbye to her friend was the only reason why she was even up.

Figured. She probably had not gotten much sleep that night. He suspected, because he had not slept much himself.

It was not until he was safely in his office, with a cup of hot tea next to him, that he opened the letter.


“Dear Half-Blood Prince,

thank you for saving me. That … was you, wasn`t it? Hermione showed me your letter.

When you said I was yours and you wanted me back, did you really mean it? I mean, you did just drop me off for one of the Professors to find, so I don’t know.

How did you know which one I was, anyway? I think … I think I would have taken the boy if I were you. Everyone likes boys better than girls, don’t they?

But I guess you don’t have to keep me so it doesn’t matter. Hermione would have noticed if you had brought back one of the fakes. (Perhaps Ron, too, but I’m not so sure about him.)

Hermione says I should tell you it’s okay if you write me again, because otherwise you won’t. So yeah. You can write.

Yours sincerely,

Harry.”


Dear Merlin. He was not paid nearly enough to deal with that sort of drama. Yes, he hadn’t informed Dumbledore that he was doing it, but that was beside the point, he wouldn’t have gotten a pay raise anyways.
It was all part of the “protect the Potter brat if you really loved Lily” package.

At least the child had the decency to thank him.

That Harriet had not asked why he had not shown his face betrayed a concerning lack of curiosity. Or rather … a concerning naivety.
He could have been a Death Eater. One of those who were not serving as Dumbledore’s double agent, that was.

Since he didn’t have that much to do after most of his students had left for the holidays, he started writing his answer immediately:

“Dear Harry,

yes, that was me. I doubt anyone else could have done it.

You see, there are things that are not taught at Hogwarts. They are termed “Old Magic”, a very general term that encompasses pretty much any kind of magic that is lost or fell out of use. (And then, of course, are the so-called Dark Arts, which are considered to dangerous.)

It seems that hags only have power over children who do not belong to anyone. Any adult, that is.

Of course, you are your own person and not anyone’s property, but the thing with Old Magic is that it is … old.
For a long time, children were considered their parents’ property, and hags still seem to subscribe to such outdated notions.”

Or perhaps they were bound to a treaty one of the legendary witches and wizards of old had negotiated? Now there was food for thought …

Anyway. The letter.

“Attempting to force the hags to release you by attacking them would have run the risk of you getting injured, so I thought it wiser to just walk in there and claim you as mine, counting on it that they would have to let you go.

For that to work I had to have some kind of claim on you. Possibly your Head of House might have been able to demand your release – the bond between master and apprentice would be almost as good as that between parent and child, seeing as in the old time, an apprentice would have lived in the master’s household – but I doubt it. There are too many children in any given House for the Head of House to pay much individual attention to them.

I, on the other hand, helped you with your schoolwork quite a few times. My claim was still rather dubious, but I did pass the test of having to recognize you and it seems that was enough.

How I did recognize you? Many reasons, for example the false versions of you were obnoxious brats, trying to ingratiate themselves with me by telling nonsensical lies.

It was not even difficult.

As for the boy, he thought he was better than you by virtue of being a boy.

No doubt you have already encountered pureblood fanatics who look down on your friend Hermione because she is muggleborn, something she didn’t choose and cannot change.

And I am sure you agree that is terribly unfair and they are jerks.

It is the same with boys who look down on you for being a girl, really. They’re jerks. I do not like jerks.

And no, not ‘everyone’ likes boys better than girls.”

If he was honest, he had always liked girls better. In his experience, they did not tend to bully as much.

And of course, Lily, brave Lily, had stuck up for him against Potter and his cronies. No boy had ever done that. Risked their own neck to defend him.

But that was probably not something he should tell a child.

Perhaps if he worded it differently …

“Were you my child, I assure you, not for a second would I ever wish you had been a boy.”

If she were his. It broke his heart to even think about it.

The Mirror of Erised that Dumbledore had asked him to find … when he had looked, he had seen Lily, alive, and it had cost him all his strength to tear away from the sight.

Were he to look into it a second time … he was quite certain he would see Lily and himself, and in front of them the girl with dark hair, the fake version of Harriet who looked like she was his daughter.
Only in this vision she would not be fake. And probably not so nice and obedient. Real children tended to have flaws, after all.
“As for me just dropping you off, I had good reason to. In my past, I did some things I am not exactly proud of, and my reputation with many witches and wizards is less than stellar. In other words, I did not want to have to explain myself to your teachers. Of course I did make sure that you would be found immediately after I lowered you to the ground. In reality, you only spent a couple of seconds there.

And surely you are aware that I would have had to drop you off at the hospital wing in any case. You needed medical care and I am not qualified to provide it.

I am not going to ask you to keep my letters a secret. Adults who ask you to keep their interactions with you a secret from your teachers are not trustworthy. You telling Dumbledore about those letters would be an inconvenience for me, but if you feel that you need to tell someone, feel free to do so.

It is ironic for me of all people to warn you not to talk to adult strangers, I suppose, but you must know that hags are not the only creatures who might want to take advantage of a child whose legal guardians neglect her.

And it sounds to me that your aunt and uncle are neglecting you. Don’t they? You seem to feel that they like your cousin better because he is a boy?”

Merlin, how he hoped that was all that was behind her wish to turn herself into a boy. The wish to be loved.

Which was really bad enough, no child should have to be so desperate, but he didn’t know what he would have done if it had turned out that her uncle had … touched her.

No, that was a lie, he knew pretty well what he would have wanted to do in such a case. And it would have been a one-way ticket to Azkaban.


“I promised you that I would do everything in my power to see to it that you could have everything as girl that you thought you needed to be a boy to have. Obviously, I cannot make your relatives like you.

But I will be there for you, whenever you need someone to protect you. I will not pretend to be your friend, as I am an adult and have a responsibility to keep you safe, which as you may have noticed is something that is often at odds with what you want.

A friend would be well within his rights to leave you to your own devices after you tell him that you hate him, but as you found out, I cannot do that.”

After thinking about it for a moment he signed the letter “Yours sincerely” as he had always done.


He went to the owlery to send the letter immediately. Twelfthtide was not yet over. And he had warded his place at the table in the Great Hall against being found by Harriet’s owl, so it did not much matter when she sent her reply.


When that was done, he got to work on another project he had been thinking about. It was not, strictly speaking, legal, but he had Dumbledore to back him up if anything went wrong, and he could justify it to Dumbledore.

Harriet needed more protection than the average child, just watching over her was not sufficient.

Her answer arrived on Christmas Eve.


“Dear Half-Blood Prince,

of course I’m not your property or anything, I knew you didn’t mean it like that, I just wanted to know if you meant the bit about wanting me back.

So, am I your apprentice now? Because I need some help with an essay about polyjuice potion. There aren’t any books about it in the library, but I will get detention with Snape if I don’t hand it in. It’s so unfair, I mean, it’s Christmas! I bet he wouldn’t have done it to someone who went home during the holidays.”

She did not mention how she had gotten herself into that kind of trouble, apparently attempting to make him believe it was a completely random punishment.

Well. It was kind of random – he had, after all, only done it to get her to ask for help. And it worked … albeit too late.

“You asked if my aunt and uncle neglect me … I don’t know. I mean, I’m just their niece. They would probably like me better if I was a boy and good at boxing like Dudley, and not a witch, of course, but he’s their son.
I guess it’s normal that people don’t care as much for children who aren’t theirs. I have a roof over my head and everything, so I can’t complain.

And yeah, I think it’s mostly because I’m a girl. Uncle Vernon always tells Dudley not to cry like a girl and stuff. It’s the only times he ever tells Dudley what to do.

If I was a boy, I could fight back when Dudley hits me, too.

You can’t really change that, can you? You would have to move in with us to protect me. It would be much better if I could fight back myself.

Yours sincerely,

Harry”



Oh.

She had wondered whether he really wanted her back?

Poor child, how could she have doubted that? Of course he had wanted her back, he …

He actually had wanted her back, and he had found it difficult to place her on the ground for a few seconds while changing his appearance and before transferring her to a stretcher.

There had been an urge to keep holding her, to make sure she was safe.
Did that mean …

No, certainly not. He did not care about the child, as such. But she was Lily’s. He still had Lily’s first gifts to him, pretty pebbles and bird feathers and the like, in a well-hidden box.

So why not treat her child with the same reverence? After all, Harriet was the one thing in the world Lily loved more than anything else.

If he felt an urge to put the child safely into a room in his private quarters and never let her out of his sight until Twelfthtide was over, well, that was only the same he did with everything else that reminded him of Lily.

On Christmas Day, Harry woke to a pile of presents at the foot of her bed. Presents!

She opened the smallest parcel first. It was actually from her aunt and uncle. A fifty pence piece.
Hedwig must have flown there to make sure she got a present.

Tears welled up in her eyes.

She wiped them, telling herself to not be silly. Had she really expected anything different?

And there were more presents.

The next parcel was not much bigger than a box of matches. It contained a glass phial, inside of which was a tiny, perfect lily blossom made of silver.

At the top of the phial, there was no cork, instead the glass was closed, and there was a hole you could put a necklace through.

Harry looked in the box again. There, coiled at the bottom of the box, was a simple leather string.

Who could have given her something so beautiful?

Hermione?


At last, Harry carefully put the glass phial back in the parcel and placed it on her nightstand.

The other parcels were bigger.

One contained a wooden flute from Hagrid, another a beautiful emerald-green jumper. From the Half-Blood Prince? He had often urged her to wear warm clothes, after all. Just … he was male and knitting wasn’t a very masculine hobby, was it?

There was a parcel with chocolate frogs from Hermione, with a letter, so then the beautiful phial probably was not from her.

At last there were only two parcels left. One, Harry could tell, contained more chocolate frogs, so she opted to open the other first.

This, too, was clothes. A very thin, silvery fabric. When she had fully unwrapped it, she realized was a cloak. Far too thin to keep warm, but perhaps it was magical?

The letter that came with it did not explain what it was, only that it had been her father’s.

She put it on and looked down.

With a cry of surprise, she realized she could not see her body anymore.

Hastily, she took it off, and to her relief, everything was back to normal.

Was this dangerous? The letter was not signed, and it was not the handwriting of the Half-Blood Prince, of that she was sure. Besides, he had always signed his letters.

With nothing else left to do, she opened the second parcel of chocolate frogs.

There was a letter enclosed with this one, too.



“Dear Harry,

first of all, I wish you a merry Christmas.

Of course I meant the part about wanting you back. Or do you think I just so happened to be taking a stroll through the Forbidden Forest?”

Harry chuckled a bit. The Prince didn’t seem to like to talk about feelings, so it wasn’t unusual for him to joke about it.

It was strange, though – Snape had a very similar kind of humour, only his was nasty. Only recently, Snape had said something about not wanting them to kill themselves with botched potions because he would have to scrape them off the classroom floor and it would be too much work.

If the Prince had written the exact same thing, Harry would have assumed he just didn’t want to admit that he would be sad if someone died.


“You can be my apprentice if you so wish, but of course I will not be able to dedicate as much time to teaching you as one usually would.”


Despite this, there was a lengthy explanation on Polyjuice potion, plenty enough to write that essay for Snape.

“You are, I am afraid, mistaken to think that you could defend yourself against your cousin better if you were a boy. The admittedly rather substantial male advantage in physical strength only manifests at the start of puberty, as far as I am informed. Your cousin’s advantage is more likely to be a result of his being massively overweight.”

Harry frowned. Was he just writing that to make her feel better? But it was true that she had won some fights against Dudley’s friends who weren’t as big.

“In my own experience, a thin and short boy will get beaten up just as much as a girl. Or perhaps more. Some muggle parents might actually teach their sons to not hit girls, while neglecting to tell them that it is cowardly to beat up smaller boys, too. Though perhaps this makes no difference, as most parents seem to entirely neglect the moral education of their children.”

In his own experience?

Did that mean he got beaten up as child? She couldn’t really imagine it – he was so clever, and he hadn’t been the least bit afraid of the hags.

But of course, he couldn’t have known that much about magic when he was a child. So she figured it was possible.


“On the topic of protecting you, I admit that I cannot always be present. That is the reason for my other Christmas present. The small parcel contains a phial with a tiny silver blossom in it. If you break the glass – it will break easily if you want it to – and touch the blossom, you will be transported to a place where I can find you. Be warned, though, that place is not completely safe, and you should use the blossom only in the direst emergency. “

So it was from him! And not just pretty, but also useful.

Harry felt strange all of a sudden. Her chest felt warm when it hadn’t felt so warm before.

Was she sick? But it didn’t hurt, so it probably wasn’t worth bothering Madam Pomfrey with.

She continued reading.

“It will not work while you are inside the wards of Hogwarts, either. The wards surround the castle and the parts of the grounds you are allowed to access.

In case you are in danger in Hogwarts, try to get to your common room, or, if the attacker knows the password, your dorm. You should be safe there in most cases. And of course, you can always ask the paintings to fetch a teacher.

Which reminds me … your friend Hermione, upon informing me of your disappearance, mentioned that she, and I infer you, too, think one of your teachers wants to steal something valuable the headmaster has hidden in the school?

It is by no means impossible for this to be the case, but I am not so sure about the suspect. If a teacher was there only to steal something, would he not take care to make himself popular with everyone, as to not be suspected?”

The Prince had a point there. Snape wasn’t pretending to be innocent very well. In fact, he didn’t really pretend that at all.

“My guess is that any head of house is not a likely suspect. They are screened more rigorously than the other teachers, and have more to lose.”

It was strange to think about that someone actually hired teachers. Even stranger, to think that Dumbledore must have made a decision to hire Snape.

There had been a nasty teacher who was very much like Snape in primary school, but back then, Harry had never thought about the fact that someone must have looked at her and decided that she was a good teacher.

Perhaps really very few people wanted to be teachers, so they had to take everyone?


“Then, there is the fact that no teacher for Defense has lasted more than a year, for decades. When I was a student, they changed every year. Even for those who fully intended to keep teaching, something would always happen to render them unable to.

Coincidence? Unlikely. I suspect a curse. Be that as it may, the teacher for Defense against the Dark Arts would be in a perfect position to steal something, as he is unlikely to keep the job in any case.

And it is somewhat suspicious that your teacher for Defense is so afraid of everything that your friends thought him incapable of saving you. Why would someone like this apply for such a position?”

Hermione had mentioned the same, and Harry had wondered, too. They had just assumed he must have seen something really terrible so that he was so nervous now, but in that case, it would have been a better idea to just teach something less frightening, wouldn’t it?

“So I caution you to not be too sure of both your mistrust in some and your trust in others.

To determine whom you can and cannot trust, do not think about whom you feel most comfortable suspecting because you never liked him anyway, think about how someone who is up to something would act.

And while I understand that you may feel tempted to play detective, you need to always keep in mind that Dumbledore is not nearly as senile as he likes to pretend. If he has, indeed, hidden something valuable in the school, then this object is perfectly safe.

You, on the other hand, could be in danger if a criminal notices that you caught him.

So please, do stay out of this, or at least limit your detective work to observing your teachers in lessons and refrain from sneaking around where you have no business being, and, more importantly, where no other teachers or students are around.”


Dumbledore pretended to be senile?

And the Prince thought she had a chance of catching the would-be thief, but didn’t want her to because it was too dangerous?

Her chest felt strangely warm again.

Perhaps the strange cloak caused this?

She eyed it suspiciously.

Then she quickly read the rest of the letter, which was mostly repetition of the warnings in the first half, got dressed and went down the stairs to talk to Ron.

Ron was wearing a jumper, much the same as the one she had gotten, with a big R on the chest.

“Mum gives everyone in the family one of those every year”, he explained when she asked about it. “And mine is always maroon.”

Harry couldn’t bring herself to pity him very much – at least he got something. Something more than fifty pence.

“I got something strange”, she told him. “It’s a kind of cloak, but too thin to be really of any use, except, when I put it on, I couldn’t see myself anymore.”

They talked about it some more, and Harriet brought it down to the common room, where Ron confirmed that it was an invisibility cloak.
And probably not dangerous.

“There’s something else”, Harriet said, hiding the cloak under her new emerald green jumper. “It wasn’t directly when wearing the cloak, but while opening my other presents, I had this strange feeling.” She put a hand on her heart to show him. “It felt so warm, it’s weird.”

Ron stared at her blankly for a moment, then laughed out loud. “You got a really heartwarming letter, huh?”

Heartwarming? That was a word? “You mean …?”

“It’s normal”, Ron said at last, after calming down a bit. “I mean, it never happened to me, I think, but that must be the reason for the word, right?”

So she didn’t have some deadly disease. That was good. “But … what does that word mean? I don’t think the Dursleys ever used it.”

Ron frowned. “I guess they wouldn’t. Heartwarming is … a soppy story, kind of like … when an orphan gets adopted by a really nice family or something like that.” It took a few seconds until the penny dropped, and Ron looked mortified. “Uh. Sorry. I didn’t mean …”

“It’s alright. Yeah, I guess the letter was heartwarming.”

“Was it from Hermione? She only gave me a normal Christmas card.”

“No, it was …” She quickly looked around. Most of the other Gryffindors didn’t seem to be up yet. It was only a handful of people, minding their own business. “The Prince wrote again. He said I could be his apprentice.”

“Wicked!”

“It doesn’t mean much, though, does it?”

“I don’t know, I mean, a real apprenticeship would mean you can’t go to Hogwarts anymore. It’s something of an alternative to school. Dad often complains that it is abused by foreign witches and wizards who move here. That they don’t send their children to Hogwarts where they could learn English, but send them back to their country of origin for an apprenticeship, and then they come back with no knowledge of the British law and go around enchanting carpets to fly and stuff.”

“So he dislikes it because it makes more work for him?” Harry recalled Ron mentioning once that his father’s job was something to do with illegal enchantments of muggle things.

“Yeah, I guess it’s that. Mum says she doesn’t want the apprenticeship system abolished, as she can see why some people would not want to send their children off to boarding school.”

Harry nodded. Aunt Petunia had agreed to send Dudley to Smeltings, but she had often mentioned how she didn’t like him being away for so long. “But wouldn’t the children move away when they become apprentices, too?”
The Prince had mentioned something about the apprentice moving in with the master.

“That depends. You could always arrange something locally. The foreigners who do it tend to send their children back to the village they came from, so it is far away, but traditionally, it wouldn’t be. Mum once mentioned something about the Lovegood girl being better off with an apprenticeship, but you don’t know that from me. I just kinda overheard it, and she told me not to tell anyone.”

Strange. Why would you want to keep that a secret? “Did she mention why not? It seems harmless enough.”

“The whole family is strange, and I don’t think the daughter would fit in at Hogwarts at all, so perhaps it’s that. She’s Ginny’s age, but Ginny never plays with her, says she’s weird. I guess mum doesn’t want the Lovegoods to know she thinks they’re weird, too.”

Weird. Harry had been the weird child at school. “How can you be weird when you’re a witch? I mean, I never fit in with the Dursleys, but they’re muggles.”

Ron thought about that for a moment. “They believe in strange things.”

“Like magic?”

“What? No, magic isn’t strange. No, they believe in creatures that don’t exist and weird conspiracy theories.”

“You know, muggles don’t know that magic exists. Or dragons. Or anything. But they’re wrong, obviously.”

Ron nodded. “Yeah, I guess, but we hide all that from muggles, so it’s no wonder they don’t believe in it.”

Harry considered pointing out that someone else might be hiding things from witches and wizards, but then remembered that there were plenty muggles who believed nonsensical stuff that had nothing to do with magic. So perhaps that family was really just strange.

Still, she resolved she would try and be nice to the strange girl. She knew how it felt to be an outcast.

“So, you think if I became the Prince’s apprentice, I could go move in with him?” Away from the Dursleys … but he had probably not meant that, had he? He had said he didn’t really have the time …

“I guess, but you don’t want that. He’s brilliant at Defense and Potions, but no one is a genius at everything, so you get a better quality education at Hogwarts.” It sounded like Ron was quoting someone. “Besides, you can have so much more fun here.”

Harry smiled. So that was it. Ron just didn’t want her to leave. And she didn’t want to leave. “Yeah, I guess it’s better if things stay like they are. Anyways, I learnt much more from the Prince about Potions than Snape could teach us in two years!”

They were interrupted when Fred and George marched past them, somehow having managed to throw Percy over their shoulders. They berated him for trying to spend Christmas in his dorm, so Harry decided it was a family thing and he probably didn’t need rescuing.

“So …” She began when they’d followed the twins and Percy to the Great Hall and sat down for breakfast. “This apprenticeship thing, is it a big deal?” Would he do it for someone he didn’t really like? “Would people just take anyone as apprentice?”

“No way.” Ron bit into a slice of buttered toast and continued on with his mouth still full. “It’s a big deal alright. Dad once mentioned a colleague who has immigrated from Iceland. He’d almost gotten her to send her daughter to Hogwarts, but then, a really good apprenticeship option opened up, and you just don’t say no to that. Not in Iceland, anyways.”

“So, if a really powerful wizard wants your child as apprentice, you just agree? Because it’s such a great opportunity?” Harry poured some Cheery Owls into a bowl and added milk. She felt like a sugary treat right now, even though she knew sugary breakfast cereals had probably helped Dudley get to the size he was. He ate a ton of them. Not Cheery Owls, obviously, but some muggle brand.

“Basically, yeah. Must have been a witch in that case, traditional apprenticeship is always with a witch for girls, wizard for boys.”

What? The Prince had never mentioned that. “But …”

“Yeah, I figure that Half-Blood Prince guy isn’t exactly a stickler for traditions.”

“There was a boy. When he rescued me. I told you there were lots of fake Harrys. And one of them was a boy, and he went on about how he’d be just the perfect apprentice, I think.” The memory of that night was a bit foggy. Harry took a spoonful of Cheery Owls and let them melt in her mouth.

“So they thought he would take that boy? The most obvious fake? Just take that thing home and make it his apprentice?” Ron gestured with the half-eaten slice of toast in his hand. “I don’t want to know what would have happened if he did. Scary to imagine.”

Harry nodded.

She had never told Ron about her dream of being a boy. He wouldn’t understand. She had hoped the Prince would be more sensitive …

“I don’t understand why he didn’t. That boy … he was … better than me.” Though the Prince had said he wasn’t.

“Even if, that boy wasn’t you.” Ron took another bite of toast.

“It’s just ... I … we had a disagreement. The Prince and me. I was pretty nasty to him.” And she still hadn’t apologized. And he still had given her a present. “If I was him, I would have taken one of the versions who were nice to him and apologized.”

Ron stared at her. “You don’t mean that. If it was the other way round, would you just go rescue some better version of him?”

She tried to imagine it. They wouldn’t even have to look different, she’d never seen his face. But she knew what her favourite version of him would say. “I … I don’t know. I would take the real one, but …” Perhaps just because she didn’t think the fake was human. It could be dangerous.

“Of course you would. Take me, I’ve been a fan of the Chudley Cannons ever since I was old enough to care about Quidditch. They haven’t been top of the league even once in that time. I could just go be fan of some other team that is top of the league, but then that wouldn’t be the real Cannons. No true fan would do that.”

And no true friend would just exchange their friend for a better version.

Christmas day dawned, if only because Severus had a painting of the sun in his quarters and there never was winter on that painting.

Outside, it must still be dark.

He felt an eerie happiness that it was Christmas. Was he getting sick?

Shrugging it off, he went to the bathroom and showered. Before breakfast. A luxury he seldom indulged in. He knew his hair tended to get oily about three hours after washing it, but he was a teacher, not a participant in a beauty pageant.

With a busy schedule that in addition to being a teacher and head of house also included finding out whatever the newest Defense teacher was up to and whether it was connected to the Dark Lord, he didn’t have the time to wash his hair two times a day.

Not that he cared about the students’ gossip anyway.

He didn’t really care about anyone’s opinion these days.

Sure, he knew he could not offend some people, but that was not the same as truly caring.



And he did, most decidedly, not care what Harriet thought of him.

He walked past her on his way to the table, and overheard her talking about apprenticeships.

Interesting.

She sounded happy, so that was good.

While he ate, he glanced towards the girl whenever he thought he could risk it.

“The Weasley clan are all staying? Do their parents need a break?”, he said, as to explain his interest in the Gryffindor table. “Understandable.”

“Oh Severus.” Professor McGonagall laughed. “No, their parents are visiting one of their other sons who is working abroad.”

And they could not afford the journey for all the children. Probably the son was working the holiday shift because he needed the money.

Much as he loathed Gryffindor, at times, he had to admit that he had more in common with the Weasley clan than with … well, the richer pureblood families who tended to sort Slytherin.

Even though he had well and truly escaped poverty, it had not … escaped him.

“Stop pretending you weren’t looking at Potter”, Professor Sprout scolded, chuckling. “You found her in the forest, it is too late to pretend you don’t care if she lives or dies.”

“I just do not fancy the prospect of the upheaval that would follow the death of the Girl-Who-Lived.”

Everyone at the table laughed. Except … Quirinus. He looked rather pained. Which confirmed Severus’ suspicions.

Somehow, Quirinus was in cahoots with the Dark Lord. A weak man, seeking power, if only to defend himself.

Severus himself had gone down that path.



Shortly after breakfast, a letter appeared on his office desk.

It was from Harriet.

Severus took it to his living room and risked making himself a hot cocoa.

This letter, hopefully, would not contain any upsetting things.

“Dear Prince,

(Can I call you that?)

Merry Christmas to you, too.

I want to apologize. What I wrote about my mum was really mean. The hags said she was your only friend, is that true? They also said you’d never forgive me, so perhaps they lied about other things, too?

Thank you for your present. It’s really pretty. If I wear it as a kind of necklace with the leather string, I can hide it under my clothes and the Dursleys can’t see it is valuable. I’m not sure if they would take it away, because I never had anything that pretty, but Dudley would probably want to steal it in any case.

If I have to break it, can you repair it? I hope I don’t have to, but it would be nice if it could be repaired.

I would like to be your apprentice! But that doesn’t mean I can move in with you, does it? Because you’ve given me the flower thing (what is that sort of thing called?) and I can only use it in the holidays. I wouldn’t need that if I could move in with you.

There’s something I need to ask you.

I got an anonymous Christmas present, and after the thing with the hag, I’m not sure if it is dangerous. Ron says it’s an invisibility cloak and they’re real rare. The letter enclosed says it used to belong to my father and the letter writer is just giving it back, but there’s no name there.

What do you think?

Yours sincerely,

Harry”


An apology. That was unexpected. After all, he had already forgiven her.

Perhaps he himself had been an unusually self-centred teen?

Still, this being the spawn of Potter, it was rather unlikely that Harriet was more sensitive than he had been at that age.

On the other hand, she was Lily’s daughter, and Lily had been exceptional.

It might be just an attempt to get him to tell her something incriminating about himself … namely, that he had not had any true friends.

Sure, there had been the Slytherin boys he had called his friends, but there had been no real trust there. Even back then … he had known he could not trust them with his real thoughts. That even voicing the tiniest doubt he had about pureblood supremacy would make them turn against him.

Possibly even with murderous intent.

He had not shared his doubts with Lily, for fear that she might try and use them to talk him out of the whole thing altogether. However, he had occasionally tried to persuade her to see his point of view.

Never once had he feared that Lily might turn against him and physically attack him if he voiced an opinion she did not like.

And still … and still … he had been too blind to realize what this meant. What this must mean.

Teenage idiocy, he wanted to tell himself, but he could not.

After all, Potter and Black had been old enough to see the wrongness of their actions, too. Sure, they had directly sexually harassed him and tried to murder him, while his own crimes had always been indirect, but …

He had witnessed what his ‘friends’ had done. Lily had even pointed it out to him. And yet, he has been as willfully deaf to her warnings as Potter had been to her anger.


Severus shook his head, willing himself to return to the present. Harriet was a strange child. She had not even mentioned the chocolate frogs. He would have thought she would have been the most excited about those.

He had half expected her to reject the portkey as being too ‘girly’.

The thought that it might be stolen had not even figured into his thoughts at the time.

Of course public portkeys usually looked like trash to avoid that very thing, but he had thought if he made something that looked enough like muggle jewelry, her magic-hating family would leave it alone.

He really should have expected that, since they clearly did not just hate Harriet’s magic, but Harriet herself, they would not let her have anything nice.

She was right, though, the simple leather string would not draw too much attention.


An invisibility cloak. Of course Potter had had one. That explained a lot. And all this time Severus had thought his tormentor just happened to be very good at charms.

Who could have sent it to the girl?

Sirius Black? No, he wouldn’t have been able to keep that with him in prison.

Remus Lupin? Would be like that coward to write an anonymous letter.


Though of course, Potter had also been very close with Dumbledore …

Would Dumbledore give an eleven year old something as dangerous as an invisibility cloak?

Yes. Yes he would.



“Dear Harry,

Yes, you may call me Prince.

You are perfectly right about the hags: They lie a lot, and what kernels of truth they are in what they say, they twist beyond recognition.
Your mother was my first friend, so for a while, she was indeed my only friend, but by the time she ended our friendship, that was no longer the case.
In fact, one reason she no longer wanted to be friends with me was because she did not like the boys I increasingly spent my time with. She was right, and I am no longer friends with most of them, but at the time I came around to her point of view, it was already too late.

The flower thing is a portkey. A portkey can have any shape whatsoever, though of course, most will be small enough to be picked up, out of practicality. If you need to use it, take care that no one you do not wish to bring along with you is touching you at the time. If you do wish to bring a friend or a pet or anything along with you, hold the friend’s hand or hold the pet in your arms.

You will hear other people mention portkeys, they are one of the most common ways of traveling. However, they are also heavily regulated, so this one is not strictly legal.

As for breaking the glass phial, do not worry, it is easily repaired with a simple charm.

If your cousin tries to steal it, you may tell him that it is cursed and a horrible fate will befall anyone but you who touches it.
There is no curse, but I can certainly make the life of your cousin very uncomfortable.

In the event that he successfully steals it, write to me immediately.

It is, I am afraid, completely out of the question that you move in with me. I am a very busy man, and could not adequately take care of you.
Your relatives do not seem to be doing that, either, I must admit, but they also would not consent to let you live with a wizard if I am not completely wrong about them.

Hence the portkey.

The mysterious letter … the safest course of action would be to show your invisibility cloak to a teacher.

I do not know for certain that your father owned an invisibility cloak, but it would explain a lot of things. He did often seem to appear out of thin air.

My guess is that the letter is indeed from an old friend of your father’s who likes being mysterious. If someone wanted to curse you, there would be cheaper alternatives than an invisibility cloak that actually works, so I do not think you need to be overly worried.

Should you notice any symptoms following the use of the cloak, do search help from Madam Pomfrey, and alert me.

Yours sincerely,
The Half-Blood Prince”



It was not before long that Harriet wrote a letter admitting that she was using the cloak to sneak around the school.

And apparently, she had discovered the Mirror of Erised.

“It’s strange, because I can see my parents in it, but Hermione doesn’t see hers. She says she sees Professor McGonagall awarding her a hundred points for an exceptional essay and Gryffindor winning the house cup because of it. And she sees all of us applauding her. I figure it must show you what you want to see?”

The mirror. The perfect opportunity to learn more about the girl, in theory, but wishing her parents were alive could mean many things. A wish to have known them. A wish to be loved. A wish to not be mistreated.

Granger wishing to be accepted by her peers was much more specific. Strange, he had always thought she was happy with having only two friends.

But then, he thought of himself as a loner, and he had wanted the approval of his peers, too. Had, perhaps, wanted it more than Lily’s friendship.


In his reply, he admitted that he would probably see some people he had lost in the war alive if he were to look into the mirror, without specifying.

Things were quiet after that, Harriet’s letters mostly containing ordinary school things.

It was shortly before the end of term that things came to a head.

“Dumbledore is away, and we found out Hagrid told Snape – or someone else, it doesn’t matter – how to get past Fluffy. I’m going through the trapdoor tonight. I know you said to stay out of it, but he will use the Stone to help Voldemort and we are all as good as dead if that happens.”

Tonight.

Severus looked at his clock. It was past curfew. He had had a very busy day, which had kept him out of his office until now.

And hadn’t Granger loitered near his quarters earlier today?

Dear Merlin, he really was not paid enough for this.


Briefly, he considered disguising himself, then decided it was safer not to. If Quirinus knew how to get past that infernal dog, then he might very well be trying to steal the stone, and Quirinus would recognize his voice.

He did not need to have his cover blown in addition to a fight to the death.

After asking a portrait to alert Professor McGonagall that he was pursuing some children through the trapdoor, he lost no time.
The hellhound called Fluffy was easily pacified with a hummed version of Scarborough Fair, the devil’s snare had never been any challenge, and the flying key had been so mistreated it could hardly fly anymore. Poor thing.

When he saw the troll, he knew that Harriet had been right. Quirinus was in there. The child would not have been able to do this.

He found them in the room with the game of chess.

Just in time to see the young Weasley boy be hit over the head.

Severus winced. Those defenses had never been designed with children in mind. If this didn’t kill them, then his riddle surely would.

And he had expected troublemakers to sneak in. He had just reasoned that they would be the likes of James Potter and deserve no better.

He was having second thoughts about that, now.

“Granger! Potter! What do you think you are doing out of your common room at this hour?”

They swiveled around. “Snape! But – but …”


“Not liking the nickname of Girl Who Lived is no sufficient reason to try and get yourself killed, Potter”, he snarled. “And that’s Professor Snape to you.”

“If he is here”, Granger said in a stage whisper, all but ignoring him, “Then who is trying to steal the Stone?”

“The Stone? You thought I was attempting to steal the stone? I assure you, Granger, I have no desire to prolong my suffering under people’s idiocy by extending my presence on this sinful earth. Speaking of which, Weasley seems in dire need of assistance, lest he shuffle his mortal coil.”

“But – but sir, someone is trying to steal the Stone!” Harriet insisted.

“And he may try so for a while longer. I would be rather surprised if anyone got past my protection. Professor McGonagall should arrive any moment.”

The mention of their Head of House seemed to make the girls trust him at least a little. They stepped closer, and their eyes followed him as he went to examine Weasley’s prone form.

“Head wounds always bleed a lot, so I am afraid I may not yet hope to be rid of a foolish student.” He conjured a stretcher and moved Weasley to it, which elicited a pained groan from the boy. Good. Being unconscious for any longer would not bode well for the boy’s future academic performance.

“You two, walk where I can see you.”

They made it to the right side of the room just in time before the chess pieces moved back into position.

After a long trek back to the trapdoor, Severus made Harriet put the hellhound to sleep and levitated the children up.

Just in time, it turned out, to meet Professor McGonagall.

Shortly after her, Dumbledore arrived.

For some inexplicable reason, the headmaster seemed almost a bit disappointed that Severus had apprehended the children.

And he perked up considerably after being told that they had gotten as far as the chess game. Had the insane old coot planned for this?

If he had, he did not admit it to Severus.



Dumbledore dealt with Quirinus, in what way he did not want to tell, but the end result was that Quirinus ended up in St. Mungo’s with what Dumbledore claimed was just a worse version of the fearful demeanour Quirinus had shown all year.

Severus had gotten on rather well with the muggle studies teacher, but not well enough to visit him in hospital.


**


Summer started alright for Harry.

Dudley was much too frightened of magic to play his favourite game of Harry-hunting, so Harry spent a lot of time just walking around outside.

She made friends with a black cat, and things were looking rather good, when one day, it started raining.

Harry had never been afraid of a little rain, and she really didn’t fancy having to deal with the Dursleys before it got too dark to stay outside any longer.

So she stayed outside, and when she felt sick the next morning, she didn’t think much of it.

Only when she realized she felt exhausted after going to the bathroom, and could definitely not walk down the stairs, she got worried a bit.

Still, it was nothing too serious.

She fell asleep, and when she woke, it was the next morning and Aunt Petunia was standing over her bed. “Get up, lazy girl. Dudley wants his breakfast.”

“I can’t” she whispered, hardly even feeling able to speak. “I’m sick.”

Aunt Petunia huffed. “Very well, then. Stay in bed if you don’t want breakfast.”

Harry had hoped her aunt would see that she really was sick when she didn’t come down for breakfast, or lunch.

By dinnertime, it was clear that if Harry wanted something to eat, she had to come down to get it herself.

And she was not sure how long she would survive without food. She did not feel hungry anymore, but she did have that faint feeling she often had when she hadn’t gotten enough to eat.

None of her friends had answered her letters. Probably too busy having fun … and it wasn’t like she had asked them for help, in the last letters she had written, she had just complained about being bored.

Still, she did not want to burden them with her problems. What would they even do? Send food? They could, probably, but really, it was silly.

This was a problem she could solve herself. She just had to pull herself together a bit.

So, she waited until the Dursleys had gone to bed to descend the stairs. She had to take a break every couple of steps, and every time she sat down, her body felt heavier and heavier, and it became harder and harder to get up again.
If only she could risk taking a nap … after a short nap, she would feel much better, she was sure, but she could not risk the Dursleys finding her asleep on the stairs.

At last, she had made her way to the kitchen. She grabbed some sliced bread and ate it hastily, leaving crumbs all over the floor.

Too tired to get a broom, she swept them under the nearest cupboard as well as she could and took a plate, heaped some more bread on it, then got a glass and filled it with water.

It was the glass. The glass was a bad idea. She had not even reached the stairs when she saw silver spark swirl in front of her eyes, everything went black for a moment, and the much too heavy glass fell from her grasp, landing on the tiles with a noise that seemed to sound through the whole house.

And Harry knew, as soon as the Dursleys saw what she had done, hell would break loose.

She leant against the wall, wrapping her arms around herself as if to protect herself. But she could not protect herself. She was too weak to fight, to even run away.

If only the Prince was here to pick her up and carry her away …

Oh.

The portkey. He had told her to only use it in an emergency, that the place it took her to was not that safe … but then, staying here would … not be good. She had never refused to pick up after herself. If breaking a plate and cleaning it up again got her locked in the cupboard for days, she did not even want to imagine what they would do to her for being too weak to clean up the glass shards.


How much more unsafe could any other place be?

Uncle Vernon was already awake, his steps sounding like those of an angry elephant bull. Probably. Harry had never had an angry elephant charge towards her.

Hands trembling, she took the portkey out from under the old shirt she used as nightgown and gently knocked the phial against the wall.

It crumbled like eggshell, and when she closed her fingers around the tiny lily blossom, she noticed there were no sharp edges.

What happened afterwards, she could not remember later. When she came to her senses, she was lying in very cold, very wet and very high grass.

Well. The Prince had said it was no safe place. But he had also said he would come get her if she went there.

Which was what she was hoping for. If he didn’t get her … well, at least it was quiet here. Peaceful. No angry Dursleys. And the wet grass felt pleasantly cool on her hot forehead.
It also made her shiver with cold, but all in all, the blessed silence and the knowledge no Vernon Dursley would grab her collar and threaten to beat her – perhaps actually beat her, though he did not often dare to – made up for it.