The Gift Of...
Pansy was fuming which was annoying. That meant she was going to make her bad mood the entire dorm’s problem. She was jealous of Potter because she was popular and the object of Draco’s attention as of lately. Since Draco returned this year he spent too much time talking about her and that didn’t sit well with Pansy at all.
“What rubbish…Harriet Potter, the Heir of Slytherin,” she said in disgust, “As if! …No one in their right minds would ever think that of her.”
Pansy spent as much time as she could bitching and moaning about how ugly and unbearable Potter was, with her hideous glasses and un-manicured nails. It had gotten to the point where Draco had begun ignoring her whenever she said something nasty about Potter. Why should Draco care? He clearly despised the Gryffindor girl as much as Pansy did. Pansy didn’t want to admit it but she was furious because she wished Draco didn’t spend as much time trying goad Potter on. It was funny at first but now she just wanted him to give all his attention to her instead.
“I must say, I would’ve never guessed that she’d be a Parselmouth,” chirped Daphne Greengrass. Daphne was vivacious and beautiful. She was thin and tall with long blonde hair and eyes like blue steel that made her look like a supermodel. Pansy hated her when they first met but once she realized Daphne had no interest in Draco she eased off.
“She can’t really talk to snakes Daphne, only a Slytherin would be able to do that, and Potter’s just an ugly Gryffindor loser! She was obviously faking all that stuff for attention,” Pansy said, glaring at Daphne.
“So how did she get the snake to back off Weasley then? It sure looked real to me, and that’s something only a Parselmouth could do” said Tracey Davis who sat to the side of Daphne with her feet dangling off the bed. She arched her brows and looked at Pansy, waiting for a retort
Pansy’s glare was like a sharp knife directed at Tracey, and her face contorted in anger, ready to lash out. As if sensing an impending argument Daphne spoke up, “No one else in Slytherin thinks she’s the Heir either, that’s just a stupid rumour started by the other idiots. Draco himself was adamant that it couldn’t be her.”
“I think I know what Draco thinks more than you do, thanks, I didn’t need your input,” Pansy retorted, her eyes flashing dangerously. She couldn’t bear for another girl to have Draco’s attention at all. Even Tracey, who was cool and unbothered by Pansy, knew to stay away from him.
“And besides, he already told me that his father didn’t tell him who it was, but that it would never be Potter in a million years,” she scoffed, grabbing her nail file to meticulously trim her nails. “But he would like to know who it is. We’ve already spoken about helping them, to rid this school of Mudbloods would be the greatest thing we could do in Slytherin’s name.”
The others remained silent at that. It was a common conversation in Slytherin at this point. There were those who came from families that strongly advocated for the removal of the muggle born students and those who remained silent. Neither for nor against. In light of the recent events, in Slytherin it became almost a game to guess who could be the Heir. Even the older seventh year prefects didn’t know who it was and everyone knew if Draco didn’t know then there would be a slim chance of figuring it out.
Throughout the entire conversation, Millicent stayed quiet and remained focused on the book in front of her. She knew she had no place in a conversation like this because she was a half-blood, something which Pansy revelled in reminding her. Daphne was lucky because she was a pureblood and Tracey was a half-blood as well but her father was a wizard and her mother’s family originated from a line of royalty somewhere in the north so she inherited a fortune and a title that had her set for life. Millicent on the other hand, had a father who was a muggle and who left her and her mother as a baby. Millicent’s magic came from her mother and not her father, and everyone knew that was worse.
Last year, Pansy had made her the joke of their house by telling everyone about her family. She made the mistake of introducing herself to her dorm-mates thinking they could be friends and get along and Pansy just used her and rubbed it all in her face. Millicent never felt ashamed of her life until she came to Hogwarts, and it took Potter almost dying at the end of last year to distract everyone from Millicent. It had gotten so bad that she had to tell Professor Snape, and eventually the talk about her died down and everyone went about their lives. It was an awful memory.
At least she would be gone from here during the holidays. She was going to visit her family in Russia. She liked it there. It was cold, but her grandmother baked all the time and they didn’t treat her like a big, dumb nobody. She didn’t care that it was a muggle neighbourhood and that almost everyone was over sixty years old. The babushkas were nice to her and complimented her and they gave her delicious cakes and breads. There was even a girl down the street called Anna, who lived next to her favourite bakery. Anna loved to come over and read with her because she thought she was smart and a great reader. She had even been teaching her how to say things in Russian and she had gotten good enough to order her favourite soup on her own. Millicent thought it was sad that her only friend lived in another country and she only saw her maybe once for the year if she was lucky.
“I was so upset that the blood traitor didn’t get eaten by that snake,” said Pansy, disappointment evident in her voice, “I just don’t understand why Professor Snape was so upset with Draco about it! It was a duel, and it’s not like Lockhart said it was over!”
“That’s true…He really was angry with him…” said Tracey, exchanging looks with Daphne, “I think it must’ve slipped him that Slytherin’s monster could attack the traitors at any time.”
“I think that’s rubbish, Professor Snape ought to be helping Slytherin’s monster as well, that’s all Draco was trying to do!”
Daphne got off her bed and walked to the mirror in the middle of their room, grabbing her hairbrush and running it through her long hair. “Did you all notice Lockhart’s hair at the duel? His curls were so perfect and glossy I wish I knew his secret! It’s a shame he hasn’t published a book on his hair care, he really is awfully handsome.”
“True, he really is the most handsome teacher at school right now. Dumbledore really ought to hire more good looking staff and get rid of some of those old crones,” Pansy said, glancing at her reflection in the mirror.
“I think Professor Snape is handsome enough, more so than Lockhart,” Millicent said, finally speaking up.
Daphne dropped her hair brush and Pansy spun around from her reflection, her mouth slightly ajar.
“What did you just say?” she asked, her voice laced with disbelief.
“I think Professor Snape is much better looking, and he doesn’t care about the pointless things like Lockhart does,” Millicent said.
“Millie…Don’t get me wrong, Professor Snape isn’t ugly by any means, but compared to Lockhart…” Daphne trailed off trying to find the right words.
“He just seems more interesting than Lockhart,” Millicent explained, “And he seems like a skilled duelist.”
“So you fancy him then Millie?” asked Pansy, a twisted smile on her face, “Do you need our help to deliver your love letters to him?’
Millicent felt her stomach turn, “I don’t fancy him. I just think he’s better looking than Lockhart because he doesn’t have to spend hours picking out clothes and fixing his hair nor does he only care about who’s around to compliment him.”
Daphne piped up at that, “Speaking of which, Lockhart’s duelling robes were so well fitted on him weren’t they? I’ve never seen him wear such a dark colour before, but it really brought out his eyes didn’t it? The contrast…And his hair….He looked so angelic under the lights I think…”
Millicent sighed and drew her curtains shut, intent on focusing on her book once more. This was why she couldn’t really have any conversations with her dorm mates and be friends the way Potter and Granger were friends. She could never see eye to eye with Pansy, and Tracey and Daphne were already close friends with each other since they knew each other before coming to Hogwarts. They only hung out with Pansy out of necessity really. Pansy was from a wealthy pureblood family and her father worked in the Ministry and because of that she was like the pseudo leader of their group or something. Slytherins were never friends for loyalty, but for favours and recognition.
Honestly, even if the others didn’t understand, she was sure at least Potter with her horrible eyesight could see how foolish Lockhart was compared to Professor Snape. She’d seen Potter glaring at the blonde idiot in the hall and felt a bit of respect for her then. At least she wasn’t as much of a ponce as Pansy made her out to be. Initially, she had expected her to rush to take pictures with Lockhart because she was famous too but from what she had seen thus far in classes, Potter tried to avoid him like the plague. That was unexpected she thought, and she found herself noticing Potter’s behaviour more this year.
But it was clear as day to see, that compared to Lockhart who only cared about his hair and smile, Professor Snape was much more interested in educating them and he was a good Head of House because he protected them and took interest in their lives. When she reported that she was being harassed last year, he spoke to the prefects and just like that the rumours about her family ended and they had mostly begun treating her normally, once even offering her notes when she ran late for class. That had felt nice.
But even though she was on civil terms with her housemates, she didn’t have anyone to confide in or study with the way Potter and Granger did. She didn’t have any friends who she could share her Christmas cookies with, nor who would stand up in front of a dangerous snake for her. The more she thought about it, the more she felt like she would’ve really liked to have a friend like that.
The days dragged on and the trio spent their time visiting Hagrid and catching up when the weather got chilly, drinking warm tea and chatting about the odd happenings in the castle before he escorted them back up on evenings. Soon enough it was December and Harriet was eagerly awaiting the holidays. She anticipated being able to find out who was behind the attacks once the Polyjuice potion was complete and they were able to infiltrate the Slytherin common room. When the frost grew thick and the hills were too slippery to climb, they spent most of the time in between classes, monitoring the potion and counting down the days until it was ready. Moaning Myrtle cried and wailed constantly in her stall, but she never reported them to anyone, which Harriet was eternally grateful for. By Christmas time most of the students had left and only a handful of them remained at Hogwarts, Malfoy included. This was perfect; it was all going according to plan.
There was one issue that remained however, and that was Professor Snape. Since the statue incident, he’d taken to breathing down her neck at any chance he got and keeping an eye on her; and it was becoming increasingly difficult for them to slip in and out of the abandoned bathroom to check on the potion.
Deciding enough was enough, Harriet concocted an idea for her to distract him during the Christmas feast, whilst Ron and Hermione slipped away to execute their plan. It was risky, but she wasn’t a Gryffindor for nothing was she?
On Christmas day, the Great Hall was decked festive colours with oversized Christmas trees lining the walls, each decorated with twinkling lights and a multitude of ornaments. Despite there not being many students left for the holidays, the laughter and cheers were still very present, much to Severus’ quiet dismay. Every inch of the room seemed to glitter or glow, the trees towering over the students and staff alike, adorned with enchanted baubles that tinkled like tiny bells. The enchanted ceiling above swirled with a false snowstorm, casting a soft, whimsical light on the tables below.
Severus sat stiffly at the staff table, his sharp gaze sweeping over the students still at Hogwarts for the holidays. It was a smaller gathering, but the jovial atmosphere grated on him all the same. Laughter and conversation buzzed around the hall, but his mind was focused elsewhere—on a scheming Gryffindor, to be precise.
Miss Potter was sitting with her usual company, though something about her was… off. She was far too quiet for his liking. There was no sign of the usual banter between her and her friends, no sudden burst of chaos. Instead their heads were down and they were softly murmuring to each other with the occasional head nod.
His eyes narrowed as he watched her glance repeatedly toward the exit. Potter, Granger, and Weasley were up to something. He was certain of it. He had seen those three plotting often enough over the past two years to recognize the signs. Their overly innocent behaviour always meant trouble, especially when they thought they were being clever.
And sure enough, after a brief exchange of looks, he noticed the girl slipping away from the table and making her way to the front of the hall. How convenient. Snape’s eyes focused on her, her head down and her hands fidgeting with the hem of her atrocious sweater as she walked past the rows of tables, radiating nervous energy. That was odd.
What was the matter?
Dumbledore’s voice floated over the noise of the feast, drawing him back to the staff table.
“Severus my boy, are you enjoying yourself?” Dumbledore asked cheerfully, pulling yet another Christmas cracker with Minerva, sending a small burst of coloured smoke and a golden hat popping into the air.
Severus’ lips thinned. “Immensely,” he replied dryly.
Dumbledore laughed, “Have another drink and lighten up my boy, it’s Christmas after all, you may find something you like in your stocking tonight,” he said merrily.
Severus almost snorted into his goblet as he took another sip, but before he could reply, another voice interrupted his thoughts—Miss Potter’s.
“Professor Snape?”
He froze for a fraction of a second before turning slowly toward her, his black eyes narrowing. He downed his drink and set his goblet aside.
She stood before him, her expression one of forced innocence. He could tell she was nervous, though she was doing her best to hide it.
“Miss Potter,” Severus said slowly, his voice a low, dangerous drawl. “Is there something you need?”
She hesitated, and then cleared her throat. “I… I wanted to talk to you about my Potions grades.”
His eyebrows shot up slightly. Of all the excuses, this was the most transparent. Potions grades, indeed. His first instinct was to brush her off, to call her bluff but then he glanced at the Gryffindor table and noticed that the other two were gone. Ah, so that was it then.
He turned and stared at her, his eyes cold and hard. But, instead of backing down under his scrutiny, Miss Potter held his gaze. There was a flicker of determination in her brilliant green eyes, and there was something more than just nerves. Severus narrowed his eyes further, intrigued despite himself. “Your Potions grades?” he echoed, his voice laced with skepticism. “Now? At the Christmas feast?”
She gave a small, sheepish shrug. “It’s been bothering me. I thought… well, now’s as good a time as any to ask.”
Severus stared at her, his instincts still screaming that this was a ploy. And yet, the longer she stood there, the more curious he became. He had always known Miss Potter to be bold, but there was something different about her tonight.
Before he could respond, Dumbledore’s warm voice interrupted again.
“My dear Harriet, how wonderful of you to join us!” the Headmaster called from his seat, his eyes twinkling with amusement as he waved her over. “Would you like a Christmas cracker?”
She turned slightly toward Dumbledore nodding her confirmation, clearly relieved by the diversion and grabbed onto the other end of the trinket. There was a bang and the cracker erupted into silver glitter and a small green snake fell on the table.
“Oh, it’s so cute!” she exclaimed, her face lighting up in child-like excitement.
Dumbledore chuckled, “You can have it my dear, Merry Christmas!”
She beamed up at him, a radiant smile on her face, “Thank you sir! I’ll make sure to cherish it,” she exclaimed happily.
“Have you thought about what you really wanted this Christmas my girl?” he asked.
“Oh—um—” she stammered. “I hadn’t really thought about it, sir.”
Dumbledore chuckled, his eyes gleaming behind his half-moon spectacles. “Surely you must have some wish for the holidays, Harriet. Even if it’s something small.”
Severus could see her casting a quick glance back at the doors, and he knew she was buying time, trying to keep them engaged in conversation.
She turned back to Dumbledore, smiling weakly. “Maybe… a Firebolt?”
There was a soft wave of laughter from the teachers nearby, and even Dumbledore smiled warmly. “Ah, aiming high, I see. A very fine wish indeed.”
Severus, however, wasn’t fooled. His suspicion deepened. He cast a brief, sharp glance at the empty seats where Weasley and Granger had been moments before. Whatever their scheme was, the girl was the key to distracting him.
“And what do you expect to gain from asking me about your Potions grades now, Miss Potter?” Severus’ voice was silky, cutting through the festive chatter. “Do you think flattery will improve your chances in my classroom?”
She shifted slightly, her confidence wavering for a moment before she straightened her shoulders. “No, sir,” she replied, meeting his gaze again. “I just thought… if I could get a head start for next term, it might help. I don’t want to keep… disappointing you.”
He raised a brow once more and took a sip from his cup, taken aback by the last remark. Disappointing? She had never seemed to care what he thought before.
He glanced quickly at Dumbledore, who was now watching their exchange with faint amusement and Severus’ lips twitched in irritation.
Before he could respond, Miss Potter’s attention snapped back to him. “I could practice brewing in between classes after the holidays under your supervision,” she added quickly. “You know, to keep on top of things.”
The room seemed to still for a moment as Snape’s sharp eyes studied her. She was certainly bold, he’d give her that. And reckless. Yet, there was something almost… earnest in her attempt to distract him. It was absurd, of course, but he couldn’t help but admire her audacity.
He leaned forward slightly, his voice low but edged with dark amusement. “I think you’re better at theatrics than you are at potions, Miss Potter.”
Her eyes widened, clearly not expecting him to call her out so directly, but she recovered quickly. “Well… maybe,” she admitted, her lips twitching into a tiny, mischievous smile.
Severus stared at her, something almost like amusement tugging at the corner of his mouth. Ah, the drinks were starting to hit then. He hadn’t expected this from the girl though. And before he could stop himself, he added, in a tone so dry and sardonic it could have been mistaken for sincerity:
“Your grades are average Miss Potter, so try again. And the only practice I’d have you do is practicing keeping yourself away from trouble for once.”
She blinked at him, her mouth parting in surprise. For a split second, she looked like she wasn’t sure whether he was joking or being serious.
Severus allowed the faintest of smirks to appear on his face before straightening in his seat, turning away from her.
“Ah but how late it has gotten my dear, I’m sure your friends must be looking for you to open your presents,” Dumbledore spoke up suddenly, feigning ignorance. Severus knew it was faked because Dumbledore could keep track of time down to the very last second. Perhaps he also noticed that she was here buying time for her cohorts to do whatever mischief they were up to. She perked up as if suddenly remembering that she had overstayed and stood up in her seat, making a show of grabbing the little green snake off the table and putting it into her pockets.
Severus stood as well, with all intentions to not let her roam the halls alone as there was still a monster on the loose.
“Leaving as well Severus?” the Headmaster asked innocently while the girl watched him curiously. Ah so she did expect him to leave with her.
“I’ve had my fill of the festivities and I’d rather not stick around any longer than necessary. It would not do me good to become inebriated after all.”
Dumbledore smiled under his beard, “No, I suppose it would not. Harriet my dear, do enjoy the rest of your Christmas, I’m sure Professor Snape would be happy to see you to your common room now,” he said.
The girl looked pleased, like if this was exactly what she hoped for. And when they walked out of the Great Hall, she surprised him even more by talking to him again.
“So…what did you want for Christmas sir?”
He almost snorted at the question. Glancing over at her, he realized she was serious as she was looking at him earnestly, her green eyes wide and filled with curiousity.
“If you must know Miss Potter, I was hoping for more potion ingredients…Preferably on the rarer end. But seeing as they’re rare, there’s a slim chance of that happening,” he said, surprising himself at his willingness to answer. It was the alcohol. That had to be it. He didn’t usually drink for that reason, because it was disturbing to him how alcohol could completely change a person.
“Oh that’s actually very reasonable sir, did you have any specific ingredients in mind?” she asked, surprising him even more.
“…I suppose I did, but the creature that produces that ingredient has been considered extinct for a long time…and even if it was still around, it’s notoriously difficult to harvest since it can kill you by just….looking into its eyes,” he said slowly, his mind suddenly racing. He paused in his tracks. There was something here that he was missing; a crucial clue that he was sure his alcohol addled brain did not comprehend.
“Ah I guess I understand that sir, Hagrid told us about some rare creatures recently, I didn’t realize that so many magical creatures could be used in potion making,” the girl said, her rambling just barely registering in his brain, “He told us about unicorns and pygmies and some others I forgot. I’m sure Hermione would be able to remember though…He probably would’ve been able to tell us more but he was a bit busy trying to figure out why all his roosters kept dying…”
Wait, roosters? Severus’ brain finally began to work.
She was a parselmouth and only she could hear the voice. What ancient creature could petrify someone, only be heard by a parselmouth and more than likely be owned by Salazar Slytherin?
It was a fucking Basilisk.
Why the fuck did he not realize it sooner? That’s why it was only she who heard the voice and no one else! The Headmaster more than likely already knew he was sure. That would explain his silence and secrecy after he told him about the girl being able to speak parseltongue. Slytherin’s monster was a basilisk and it was roaming around Hogwarts freely. This was a bigger problem than he though, this was—
“Professor wait! I heard something!” Came the girl’s voice suddenly, high and tinged with fear.
He snapped out of his thoughts instantly, pulling his wand out and facing her.
The girl’s face was pale and her green eyes were wide and fearful even in the low lighting. Her hands were shaking and she was looking around frantically.
“Was it the voice? Where did you hear it Miss Potter? Show me!” he demanded, heart racing.
“It’s…it’s in the walls sir, I’m positive,” she said, her eyes visibly tearing up.
Pausing only for a moment, she reached out to the stone wall, running her palms over the uneven slabs, her eyes now shut, trying to intently focus on listening.
“It’s moved away sir… further down the corridor, it’s very faint now, but it’s talking about…killing someone,” she whispered her face now white, her dark hair sitting starkly against her pale skin.
With his wand out, he slowly walked forward, shielding the girl behind him. Her steps were almost silent as they carefully navigated the corridor, coming to a bend. He held his arm out, stopping her in place, making sure that there was no enemy behind the corner before they stepped out.
His eyes took a few moments to adjust to the dim corridor, but the girl gasped and her small hand shot out and grabbed his, flooding his cold fingers with warmth.
Up ahead in the hallway, on the floor was a crumpled body frozen in place and above it, suspended in the air was the opaque outline of a ghost. Severus froze, dread pooling in his mind. For a moment he was worried that he was too late and the person was already dead. But as he got closer he realized that it was a student on the floor and the Gryffindor ghost in the air. He pushed the girl behind him instinctively and she struggled in his grip.
“Who is it sir? Is it Hermione?” she cried out, fear lacing her voice.
“Be still Miss Potter! It is not Miss Granger,” he said harshly, which finally caused her to still, “Tell me now if you can hear the voice, if you can hear anything at all.”
“N-no sir, I can’t hear it anymore, it’s completely silent now,” she whispered shakily, looking over at the body on the floor.
“W-who is this Professor?” she asked, her voice small and soft.
“Penelope Clearwater, a Ravenclaw,” he said grimly, pulling out the mirror used by the teachers to communicate with each other.
“Dumbledore, Flitwick, first floor hallway, a student has been found petrified,” he spoke into the mirror before shoving it back into his robes.
“She…she was a muggle born wasn’t she sir?” the girl asked.
Severus’ insides twisted. “As far as I am aware Miss Potter…yes,” he said.
“And Nick…what could kill a ghost?” she asked, mortification etched across her face.
He remained silent at that, the reality would be too grim for a child and he wasn’t about to be the one to give her nightmares plagued by a giant, man eating snake.
Less than five minutes later, the Headmaster and Flitwick came bolting through the hallway their faces radiating concern and alarm.
Flitwick dropped to the floor in front of Penelope, his face anguished at the sight of his student.
“She’s been petrified Filius,” Dumbledore said wearily, “We shall leave her in Poppy’s care until the potions are ready.” The Headmaster’s face was grim as he studied the ghost and the student who lay on the floor. He glanced towards Harriet, and seeing the obvious distress on her face, his voice took on a soft tone.
“I think it would be best for Harriet to be escorted to her dormitory, Severus if you will—?”
He wasted no time and nodded at the Headmaster before grabbing the girl and pulling her away. She was silent for a while until she finally spoke up.
“Everyone…everyone thinks it’s me don’t they,” she said, speaking so softly he almost didn’t hear her.
He glanced down at her to see her head down as she trailed along side him, her stance depressed and glum.
“What do you mean Miss Potter?” he asked.
“Everyone thinks I’m the heir and that I’ve been causing these attacks don’t they?” she asked, finally raising her head. He was taken aback by the sorrowful look in her now red eyes. He felt something suffocating grip his heart.
“I can assure you Miss Potter, no one in their right minds would accuse you of such a thing,” he said firmly.
“But everyone has been spreading all these rumours about me sir…And some people have been avoiding me! If I didn’t have Hermione and Ron, I probably would’ve had no friends at all,” she said, sniffling pitifully.
“They all think it’s me because I’m always around when someone gets found,” she said, her bottom lip quivering.
Severus felt another tug in his chest.
“Well it obviously can’t be you now, can it? Seeing as I was with you when we discovered Miss Clearwater and Sir Nicholas,” he said firmly.
She stopped in her tracks looking up at him incredulously, “You’d tell them it wasn’t me sir? Even the teachers?” she asked, imploringly.
Hearing the hope in her voice, he felt weary. It reminded him of just how young she was and how much she had to deal with at her age. No child should have to live like this, he thought, feeling resentment suddenly.
“If it would make you feel better, I shall,” he said, resuming their walk. “I’ve been known to be very…persuasive; as I’m sure you may know by now,” he said.
She finally smiled then, at his words, and Severus was ashamed to admit that he felt a sliver of satisfaction at that.
Damn.
He was too soft with Miss Potter and he was almost positive it would be problematic one day…but when the memory of her terrified face flashed across his mind when he watched her enter the Gryffindor common room; he found himself thinking— maybe, just maybe—it would be okay if he let himself be soft just this once.