Lily's legacy
Severus Tobias Snape was not one to drink, having grown up the son of two heavy (and violent) drinkers - the most he did was a small glass of wine on very special occasions (like when Slytherin won the House Cup or the Quidditch Cup), or on very rare occasions a sip of Firewhiskey, to be polite. The only exception was on October 31st, every year since 1981 - on those days, he'd down at least two bottles of Ogdens, to try and make the guilt go away. It never worked, and he was even less pleasant to be around on the days after - not that he gave a damn. He didn't even want to be in that damned castle again, where everything reminded him of Lily, and even less in the position of School Potions Master - he knew full well he was one the best potioneers in the world, but Severus also knew he was absolutely horrid at teaching, lacking the patience and will to try and teach idiots how not to accidentally poison themselves.
And so, he always did his best to get himself fired - by being himself: being openly biased towards Slytherins, publicly and nastily berating students, and doing his best to absolutely ruin the reputation of the Hogwarts Potions Program. None of it worked; sure, he drew the ire of the faculty (and the student body, not that he cared), but the old goat just wouldn't budge, not even wanting to give him the next best thing - DADA, so that at least when the Dark Lord returned, these dunderheads that passed for students these days would not just roll over and die. Truth be told, a part of the reason why he loathed teaching at Hogwarts was being forced to watch the so-called 'specialists' of the Dark Arts coming and going year after year, all of them failing to teach the lot of the students anything other than apparently, defence against the Dark Arts was not needed anymore, if the people teaching them how to were a parade of clowns.
Quirell was only the latest example of that parade; Severus had to admit that his grasp on the theory was sound, but the moron had always been nothing more than a bookworm, believing that because he had read all those fancy spells, no dark wizard could do him harm - at least, until he went to Albania and came back a stuttering wreck. Severus did not buy for one second that it was because of that vampire he supposedly met, and he suspected that Quirell had run into the pitiful remains of the Dark Lord, and had gotten his arse handed to him - and possibly even worse, if Dumbledores suspicions were correct.
Yet his own dislike for his position and for Quirell were not the reasons why Severus was doing his best to emulate his late father. No, that honor went to the supposed savior of the Wizarding World - Harry James Potter. He cussed as the brats name crossed his mind, the very idea of this... boy vanquishing the Dark Lord was utterly laughable, and he loathed that he took the credit that should have rightfully been Lilys, like James Potter would when she'd thrown in with him for some barmy reason. And by all accounts, his spawn should have just turned out like he had, a bully and little prince, a right bastard who thought the entire world revolved around him - he certainly looked like James Potter. But the eyes, oh these eyes... they were so much like Lilys it hurt to just look at them. Yet eyes were not character, he had told himself, and surely, Potter Junior would be just like Potter Senior had been...
And yet, and yet! He had studied the boy at the feast, tried to peak inside his mind to confirm he was just like Potter had been - and nearly had his own torn to shreds by that rabid dog guarding his mind. He suspected Dumbledore had taught the brat Occlumency, which only confirmed to him that Potter was just like his father - used to being the center of attention wherever he went. He had singled out the boy when he had been in his class, to show him that he wasn't that, that he was merely another lofty, big-headed brat... and yet! The boy had been able to answer his questions, correctly, at that. The cheek he had shown was Potters, but the knowledge presented... that was Lilys. And that bloody cauldron... In their very first potions lesson, all those years ago, in 1971, Lily had given Slughorn the exact same response when he'd asked her why she used brass instead of pewter. To see James Potters son utter the exact same words...
Severus shook his head and downed another glass of Firewhiskey - he had lost count of how many he'd head long ago, and at least he could simply lock himself in his office to avoid people while dealing with the aftermath. Harry Potter looked like his father, and he had presented the sort of cheeky comments that scum would, but his mind... it was far closer to Lilys brilliance. The boy was not just his fathers son, it seemed... but what did that make him?
He shook his head again. Whatever Harry Potter was, he could figure it out some time after he'd sobered up.
Harry meanwhile was enjoying what remained of his afternoon at Hagrids, drinking the tea the half-giant had brewed with Hermione (Neville had originally wanted to come, too, but he was still in the Hospital Wing after Potions). Hagrid had sent him an invitation during breakfast, and Harry had eagerly accepted (much to Toms dismay), and Neville and Hermione had decided to tag along - though Hermione looked a bit uncomfortable while Hagrid grumbled on about faculty members he didn't like, calling Filch a "sneakin' squib", and threatening to introduce Mrs. Norris to Fang if she stalked him one more time (nevermind that Fang was easily the nicest dog Harry had ever met). Still, even Hermione had to agree that Filch was "not the nicest", while Harry wholeheartedly agreed with Hagrid - as did Tom, for that matter. 'A shame Hagrid doesn't have that Acromantula anymore... I'd love to feed Filch and his pet to it...'
Eventually, the conversation turned to Snape and their first potions class. Hermione was aghast about the lack of safety measures to avoid things like the faulty potion spilling earlier, and voiced those complaints, while Harry brought up the matter of Snapes attitude. Hagrid grumbled, agreeing that Snape was careless and expecting his own brilliance from his students and stating that he didn't like students - or teaching, for that matter.
"Yeah, but he really seemed to have it out for me", Harry said.
Hermione nodded. "Professor Snape did single you out a bit, Harry", she agreed. "It was rather odd on his part."
Hagrid grumbled. "Bah, don' overthink it", the man said. "Man's kinda petty, and he 'olds a grudge, but Dumbledore trusts him completely."
'What a brilliant endorsement', Tom snarked. 'Makes me feel so comfortable.'
Harry meanwhile narrowed his eyes. "What do you mean, Snape holds a grudge?", he asked.
Hagrid shrugged. "Him an' yer dad din' get along back in their days", he grumbled. "Got pretty bad, 'specially after yer mom started dating yer dad. Didn' sit right with Snape, at all."
"Why?", Harry pressed, eager to find out something more about his parents - and why the potions teacher seemed to loath him so much.
Hagrid shrugged again. "Yer mom and he used to be quite chummy, early on. Friends since before Hogwarts, I think. Half the reason why Lily didn' get on with James till much later was 'cause he didn' get on with Snape, I'd wager. Her and Snape had a falling out in fifth, though, after he called her some pretty nasty things in anger, an'that ended the friendship. Anyways, Lily started hangin' out with James 'round sixth year, an' they became an item in seventh, and... well, ye prob'ly can guess the rest", he said with a wink.
'Oh, Morgana's tits', Tom groaned. 'I think I know why that greasy git hates you so much.'
'Let me guess', Harry replied. 'He had a crush on my mom and was pissed when she chose my dad over him?'
'Exactly', Tom answered darkly. 'And considering you supposedly look just like your dad...'
'Great, so a teacher hates me because he never got over his school crush whom he apparently insulted at one point. Is that why he tries to peek into my mind?'
'How should I know? I never had a school crush... that I know of, anyway.'
The conversation then turned away from Snape and the Potters to the recent break-in at Gringotts when Hermione asked Hagrid about what would happen to the guy. Hagrid went over what he thought - Azkaban or turned over to the Goblins, neither of which was a happy fate - while Harry peaked up when he realized that that break-in had happened when he and Hagrid had been in Diagon Alley.
'The vault had been emptied on the same day', he excitedly told Tom. 'It's that package Hagrid was sent to get for Dumbledore, I'm sure of it!'
'That would certainly fit', Tom grumbled. 'I know I joked about it being something shameless and powerful, but if someone was bold enough to break into Gringotts to try and get it...'
'And now it's probably at Hogwarts', Harry realized. 'The third-floor corridor that's blocked off this year! Whatever was inside that package, it's got to be in there somewhere!'
'That was my thinking as well', Tom agreed and cursed under his breath. 'Trouble is, whoever broke into Gringotts managed to escape before he was caught. That requires a level of skill barely a handful of mages possess. And if he managed to get into Gringotts...'
'You think whoever it is will try to break into Hogwarts, as well?'
'Aye', Tom stated. 'I'm afraid so. Bloody hell, what is Dumbledore hiding?'
'It wasn't very large', Harry speculated. 'Not very much that could fit the bill, right?'
Tom grimaced. 'More than you realize', he grumbled. 'The Philosopher's Stone, the Trapezohedron of Nephren-Ka, one or all of the Deathly Hallows, Calypso's Compass, some ancient grimoire... Either way, this'll be a fun year, I already know it.'
Whatever it was that Dumbledore was hiding, Harry did not a chance to ponder on it any further. He kept busy during the weekend, between homework, studying ahead with Hermione and helping Neville with his once he had been released from the Hospital Wing. Tom was a decent help, both for Harry and through him for Neville. The plump boy was probably the weakest of the three academically, but he put his heart in after some encouragement to not prove Snape right - curtesy of Tom, speaking through Harry.
Harry also made good use of the weekend to perform some small experiments with Tom - testing out the limits of whatever bond they had in more detail. During these tests, they discovered a few things: For one, Harry could easily access Toms memories - or what memories there were - just as Tom could access Harrys. Second, Harry could at least in theory harness Toms comparatively vast knowledge of magic without his direct input; however, many of the spells were incredibly advanced and complicated, making it near impossible for him to cast the majority of them. On the rare occasion that he suceeded, he was left feeling exhausted and weak - according to Tom, this was due to his magical core still growing and developing, a process that wouldn't be complete until he turned seventeen.
Thirdly, the two found that their positions were not as static as either had believed; at Toms urging, Harry tried and succeeded at giving him control over his body for the briefest of moments, though Tom stated that he could not maintain that control for very long, and that it only worked when Harry himself permitted it. However - and that was something the both of them found interesting - Harry was able to take back control without much effort, and without Toms permission. Both speculated for a while on how that was.
'There seem to be wards around the center of my seat', Tom mused after one such experiment. 'Wards which I think prevent me from taking over your body for long. Odd...'
'Do these wards explain why you can only take the wheel when I allow it?', Harry asked as he rubbed his scar - the aformentioned seat of Toms soulshard.
'Possibly', he responded. 'I think initially, they were meant to prevent me from taking over at all, but they seem to be weakened and damaged... unfortunately, I cannot tell from either seat how that came to be.'
'Could uncle Vernon's beatings be to blame?', Harry suggested. 'I did hear your voice for the first time after he broke my arm and beat me to a pulp for breaking that vase, after all...'
Tom was silent for a bit. 'I would not discount the possibility, but I think it's unlikely. Such wards usually don't weaken due to brute force... either way, I am more concerned about who placed them there in the first place.'
'Dumbledore's the most likely candidate', Harry grumbled.
'Yes, but this does not feel like his handiwork... it is possible that whatever happened that night, your mother managed to throw up some protective wards around you, which caused Voldemorts curse to bounce back - and which trapped me in here.'
'See, that's another thing I don't understand', Harry stated. 'If you're seated in my scar, and I have that one thanks to Voldemorts curse, how did you end up there in the first place?'
Tom was silent for some time after that question, before finally answering. 'It is possible, however unlikely, that the wand he used - possibly my old wand - contained fragments of my soul. Such things are possible - when the Reverse Spell is used on wands which have been used to kill others, some form of image - an echo of sorts - of these poor sods appears. No one could really figure out how this works, and it is highly dependent on the spell used, but I long suspected that, given the right curse, the human soul is shattered upon death, with small bits remaining within the wand used to kill its body. Now, it does look like what was used on your parents - and you - was the Killing Curse, which specifically targets the soul, which would support this theory of small soul fragments remaining within the casters wand. Not enough to anchor the soul to this world under normal circumstances, but... it is possible that whatever your mother did - and whatever Dumbledore may have done, for that matter - led to what is left of me connecting with your soul in a somewhat symbiotic manner - our connection gave you some level of unconscious protection, however weak, and it allowed me to somewhat leech of your magic to regain my strength and memories.'
'So... in other words, you're saying that Voldemort may have killed you with your own wand, and that when he was blasted into oblivion, that fragment of your soul escaped from said wand into my scar, and that you've essentially been playing soul-vampire while 'protecting' me from harm', Harry repeated, not sure he liked the implications there.
Tom shrugged. 'For what it's worth, Harry, it was not my conscious intention to do this leeching. We both know that especially these early days of our bond were... chaotic, especially on my end. And you needn't snark about me protecting you, either - most would put down your quick healing and your early apparition down to bouts of accidental magic, but these instances, for the most part at least, were far too focused on a specific goal. And don't forget all these bad fates which befell those who caused you trouble, either - at this point, I am entirely willing to entertain the chance I subconciously made these things happen to ensure these people wouldn't bother you again.'
Harry silently groaned. 'Maybe, but that still doesn't mean I like any of this. Man, I almost miss the days when I thought I was simply crazy.'
Tom laughed bitterly. 'I can see why', he said. 'Like I said, though, I highly doubt that I consciously made these decisions, for what this is worth. And I do apologize if I accidentally made things worse with these things. Still, right now, we can't keep pondering on what was going on - we need to seriously consider a way to fix this mess.'
'Why is that?, Harry asked, curious and somewhat concerned.
'The human body is not supposed to harbor more than one soul', Tom explained. 'There were a few rare cases throughout history in which people had the souls of others live with them, and it drastically reduced their lifespans, caused major health problems... quite simply put, their bodies were failing because they were inhabited by more than one soul. If I continue nursing this shard of mine back to health - which is something I cannot really control, unfortunately - that will likely happen to you, as well. Fortunately, between me being locked in your scar, and the fact that I am barely more than a fragment, this hasn't happened yet, but...'
'Yeah, I don't really want to die because some genius managed to lock his soul in my forehead', Harry quipped. 'Question is, how do we go about removing you without killing you?'
Tom sighed. 'I do not know... but I'll try to think of something. Wish I had more of my memories...'
'Well, maybe we're lucky and find something of yours that could help', Harry quipped.