Chapter 21
“Severus! Severus, what’s the matter?”
Ginny lay in bed that night, Hermione breathing softly across the room, and went over Harry’s exclamation again and again in her mind. No matter how she remembered it, she could not convince herself he’d shouted “Mr. Markham” or “John” or even “Stephen”.
No, Harry had held his half-collapsed math tutor in his arms and called him Severus.
Severus…Snape?
Ginny tossed on her bed, trying to escape the tangle of her thoughts, but succeeding only in twisting the sheets. Severus Snape, Death Eater, could not possibly be living here in San Benito! It was utterly ridiculous.
But then, so was the idea of Harry Powell being a wizard.
She thought back to the play, to Mr. Markham. Right from the start, she’d thought there was something off about Harry’s math teacher, and the evening had done nothing to allay that feeling. She was fairly sure Harry and Mr. Markham hadn’t spotted her, but she’d seen how they’d interacted while they waited for the restroom: Harry grinning and teasing Mr. Markham, Mr. Markham swatting at Harry while trying to suppress a smile. Ginny hadn’t been able to make out exactly what they were saying, but they had been affectionate, casual, utterly comfortable with one another. Not at all like a temporary tutor and his student. But an awful lot like a father and his son.
Still…the idea of a Death Eater living in hiding in some California beach town was ludicrous…
Or was it? Those books that mentioned Severus Snape all agreed: he’d been a mysterious figure, not widely known or recognized, who’d disappeared shortly before Voldemort’s downfall. They speculated that he’d been killed by Voldemort—but what if he hadn’t been? What if Snape had instead slipped Voldemort’s grasp and fled as far as he could, taking his son with him? A son no book mentioned, but still, children could be hidden, especially babies. Indeed, Ginny reflected, any Death Eater would be wise to hide their kids from their boss, especially if they had fallen out of the Dark Lord’s favor—as it rather sounded like Snape had.
So was Harry a wizard, the son of a Death Eater in hiding?
Ginny instinctively recoiled from the idea of her boyfriend—with his merry green eyes and brilliant smile and happy laughter—being the son of a Dark wizard, one of Voldemort’s followers. Mr. Markham didn’t look a thing like Harry! But that meant nothing when it came to a competent wizard, with magical means of disguise at his disposal. And Snape was supposed to have been an expert potion maker. Brewing Polyjuice Potion would be as nothing to him…
And Harry being Snape’s son would explain so much. Why Harry was a wizard, and why he was hiding it. Why he seemed so reluctant to take Ginny to his own house, or meet his mysterious “guardian”. Why he seemed to clam up at odd moments, looking almost afraid, especially when the conversation got too personal. His vagueness about his family background. Even his resemblance to some illustration in a book would be explained, if he took after his Death Eater father…
But this theory still left many questions unanswered. If Severus Snape was Harry’s father, why call him “Severus”? Why not “Dad” or “Father”? Why the whole charade about having dead parents and Stephen/Severus being his distant cousin? Harry’s story of his guardian being best friends with his late mother but not getting along with his father didn’t seem like something anyone would make up, and besides had had the ring of definite honesty to it. So how did that figure in?
And then there was Harry and Stephen’s relationship to the Muggles they lived amongst. Ginny could see why a Death Eater on the run might choose to hide in a Muggle town: after all, no one would think to look for a Muggle-hating Dark wizard in such a place. But Miguel, Squib or Muggle that he was, had spoken of Stephen with real friendship, had described how Stephen and Harry had stayed with his family when they first arrived. He’d had no reason to lie. And Harry worked in a Muggle store, went to a Muggle school, had Muggle friends—indeed, acted in all ways as though he was a Muggle. This seemed an odd lifestyle for a former Death Eater and his offspring to assume.
But, regardless of how Stephen chose to live and raise Harry, had he spotted the Weasleys for who and what they really were? Had Severus Snape the Death Eater spotted them?
He can’t have, Ginny told herself. Surely he would have done something by now. After all, if he was a fugitive from the law, he wouldn’t want other wizards spotting him. He would have taken Harry and fled town.
Unless he had some nefarious Dark scheme…something that required Harry to infiltrate the Weasleys…but how could that be? The Weasleys were a harmless bunch, neither wealthy nor well-connected, hiding no secrets. They had nothing a Death Eater, especially a Death Eater in hiding, could possibly want.
At this, something niggled at Ginny’s mind. A fleeting thought, more vague sensation than anything else, that the Weasleys did indeed have…something. But it was gone before she could grasp hold of it.
Ginny tossed again, trying to find a cool spot on her pillow. Her eyes ached, her mind hurt, she was exhausted and she wasn’t getting anywhere. More to appease her buzzing thoughts than anything else, she devised a plan: she would not tell her family her suspicions, but she would invite Harry over to meet Mr. and Mrs. Granger, as agreed, and observe him closely. If he did anything weird, she would immediately tell her brother. Bill could handle it from there.
Even in her tired, irritated state, Ginny knew this was not much of a plan. However, it relaxed her enough to let her finally drift off to sleep.
“Remember, Harry,” said Severus on Tuesday as Harry prepared to head over to the Weasleys’ for lunch, “perform the Dark detection charm if you get an opportunity, but don’t put yourself in danger. Don’t let the Weasleys see you. And, whatever you do—”
“—Don’t touch the One Ring,” Harry finished. “I know, Severus. We’ve only been over this about a million times.”
“And yet, somehow, I still don’t think you truly understand.” Severus sighed and shook his head. “I wish it was me going and not you.”
“Just how dangerous is the One Ring, anyway?” Harry asked. “I still don’t know what it is I’m even looking for.”
“Neither do I. But trust me, it’s dangerous enough.” Severus grasped Harry’s shoulders, looking into his eyes. “Don’t touch the One Ring, whatever it is. And don’t let the Weasleys know, under any circumstances.”
Harry frowned. “Don’t they have a right to know if they’re harboring something that dangerous?”
“It’s safer for them if they don’t.” Severus pulled Harry in for a brief hug. “Be careful, Harry. And text me when you find the One Ring.”
The conversation cast an ominous shadow over Harry’s drive to the rental. Which was too bad, because it really was a beautiful day: bright blue skies, the sun sparkling on the ocean, palm trees and jacarandas waving in the breeze, a beautiful girl waiting for him at the end of the drive. But Severus had made it pretty clear that Harry had better find the One Ring, either during this visit or very soon afterward. How was he going to do that in a house full of people, without anyone noticing he was doing magic, let alone wandering around with a wand in his pocket?
The thought spurred an unexpected spurt of resentment against Severus. I wish he’d tell me more about the One Ring! Or my father. Or the Dark Lord. Or even his own past! Harry sighed, easing up to park at the Ghost Rental. Wishing for Severus to be less secretive was like wishing for the night to be less dark. That’s just how he is. I should be used to it by now.
The door to the Ghost Rental opened and Ginny skipped out, red hair glowing in the sunshine. The sight of her evaporated all of Harry’s worries and resentments, and he hurried to open the door and jump out of the car. “Ginny!”
“Hi, Harry!” She ran up to him, and they embraced and kissed. Harry took a deep breath of Ginny’s flowery shampoo.
“It’s good to see you!” he said.
At this, Ginny’s smile seemed to dim. “You too, Harry.” She pulled back, fiddling with a lock of her hair.
“What is it?” Harry frowned.
“Nothing!” Ginny gave a too-bright smile. “Nothing. I’m just a little nervous about you meeting Hermione’s parents.”
“What, do they, like, eat people or something?” They started to head for the door together.
“No, they’re really nice. It’s just…Hermione’s a really good friend of mine. And her parents came a long way to see her. I want everything to go smoothly for them.”
Harry was touched. “Yeah, I get that. I’ll be a perfect gentleman, I promise.” He took up her hand and kissed it with an exaggerated bow.
“Harry!” Ginny shoved at him and giggled.
They went inside to a storm of greetings from the Weasleys and introductions to Hermione’s parents, Geoffrey and Ellen. Like Ginny said, they seemed a very nice couple: dentists, they said, operating in a suburb outside London. Harry took one look at them and knew they weren’t wizards. He wasn’t sure how he knew this, but they just seemed different from the Weasleys, in some indefinable way. Perhaps they were more comfortable with Muggle technology than the Weasleys, seemed more at ease in the ultra-modern beach rental.
Lunch went well, with much convivial conversation, but, enjoyable as it was, Harry knew it wasn’t advancing him toward his goal. His mind raced. His safest course was to get everyone else out of the Ghost Rental and find an excuse to be left alone in it, but how? This was their rental.
In the end, Geoffrey Granger solved his problem for him. “Well, that was excellent,” he said, standing from the table. “But it looks like a lovely day outside. Why don’t we all take a nice digestive walk along the beach?”
“Dad, you do realize just how gross ‘digestive walk’ sounds, don’t you?” said Hermione fondly, craning up to kiss her father on the cheek.
“Nothing like a nice, slow walk to aid the digestion,” said Geoffrey, unruffled. “And I’d like a proper look at that beach.”
“I agree,” said Bill, standing up as well. “Let’s all go.”
“Yeah!” said Harry, hardly able to believe his luck.
In the chaos of everyone putting on their shoes, hats and sunscreen, Harry was careful to take his phone out of pocket and set it aside on the front hall bench, half-hidden under Ron’s jacket. He then set out with the rest of the party, hand in hand with Ginny.
Harry waited until the others were some distance ahead before suddenly slapping his pocket. “Oh, man…I can’t believe it! I forgot my phone!”
“It’s just a walk on the beach,” said Ginny, looking over at him. “We’ll be back in a few minutes.”
“You know what Stephen’s like,” said Harry with a long-suffering sigh. “If I miss one of his texts, he’ll be after me tonight. I’d better go back and get it. The house isn’t locked, right?”
“No, but…would you like me to come with you?”
“Nah, I’ll be fine,” said Harry, though wistful fantasies of being all alone with Ginny danced through his mind. “I’ll catch up later!”
He turned and jogged back to the rental, not seeing how Ginny watched him thoughtfully.
The door was indeed unlocked. Harry ran in and closed it behind him. It felt strange to be in the Ghost Rental without the Weasleys. A heavy and, it seemed to Harry, accusatory quiet hung over everything. Stop that, Harry thought at the house. This is for the Weasleys’ own good.
He gave one last glance around before taking out his wand. “Occuldo Revelio.” His wand started humming slightly in his hand, telling him the spell was working. It also turned faintly warm: there was indeed a Dark object nearby.
Holding his wand before him like an antenna, Harry walked slowly out of the front hall, into the breakfast room. The wand grew slightly cooler. He was heading away from the Dark object. Still slow and careful, Harry turned into the dining room. Slightly warmer.
Heading toward the kitchen made the wand cool, and walking partly down the hallway to the bedrooms made it cool even further. The Dark object was somewhere in the front of the house, but not in the front hall, breakfast room, dining room or kitchen. Just to be safe, Harry tried the bathroom, but had no luck.
This left only the living room.
Harry backtracked and proceeded through the dining room, wand still held out before him. It was getting warmer and warmer the closer he came to the living room. Harry’s heart thumped.
He orbited the living room, every nerve strained to gauge the warmth radiating from his wand. He came to a halt at the foot of the ladder to Ron’s loft. Here the wand was warmer than ever, nearly hot.
Harry was just about to place a foot on the ladder when there came a soft sound behind him.
“Harry?”
Slowly, with a sick sort of inevitability, Harry turned. Ginny stood in the middle of the living room. Her face was white, her eyes fixed on his clearly visible wand.
For a long, horrible moment, they stood frozen in sick suspense. Then Ginny spoke:
“You’re a wizard, Harry.”