Friends and Father Figures
“No Quidditch Practice,” said Angelina Johnson, captain of the team, in hollow tones when Harry, Ron, and Hermione entered the common room after dinner, a few weeks later.
It came as no surprise to any of them, but Harry still felt a fresh surge of anger as the image of Umbridge’s gloating toad-like face filled his mind. He could only imagine how much the Hogwarts High Inquisitor was loving holding the prospect of no Quidditch over the Gryffindors’ heads. Umbridge had enjoyed using all her new found power to make life at Hogwarts as miserable as possible for everyone. Yet, Harry was quite certain that had not been the main motivation for the new educational decree that had been posted that morning before breakfast.
“So, you reckon Umbridge found out?” Ron asked the other two under his breath, after Angelina slumped back over to where Katie Bell and Alicia Spinnet, the other chasers on the team, were sitting mournfully by the fireplace. It was the first opportunity all day they’d had to discuss the new decree, just the three of them.
“Definitely,” Harry said firmly, his hands balling into fists so that “I must not tell lies” became more pronounced across his skin. The dittany and paste he’d applied to treat the cuts after his final detentions had soothed away much of the pain, but it had not reduced much of the scarring.
“I don’t know how she could have,” Hermione said miserably, “but I think you’re both right. It’s too much of a coincidence. Umbridge knows we were planning a secret defence group, and that’s the last thing the Ministry wants us to do. That’s why they won’t let us try the defensive spells, even when our OWL will have a practical component.”
“I thought you said it wasn’t about the exams?” Ron grinned.
“It’s not,” Hermione replied briskly. “At least not entirely. I still say that there is probably nothing more important right now than learning how to defend ourselves.”
“I agree with you,” said Harry. “So what are we going to do? People were coming up to me all day. I didn’t know what to tell them.”
“I don’t either,” Hermione said fretfully, glancing over at Fred and George Weasley with exasperation in her eyes. The twins had taken it upon themselves to boost morale that Friday evening by demonstrating their invented Skiving Snackboxes to onlookers. They were taking it in turns to throw up into buckets at their feet, before eating the second half of the Puking Pastille that would immediately cure them.
It had been a couple weeks ago that Hermione and Ron had first proposed the idea to Harry about him leading a Defence group for interested students. Harry had been extremely taken-aback to discover that his friends thought he’d make a good teacher. He might have the experience of knowing what it felt like to face Voldemort, even if most of the school still believed that to be a lie. However, his survival really had just come down to luck and nerve.
Harry had been extremely determined to make sure that all the select students from Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, and Hufflepuff that were going to be in their secret club, understood that. It wasn’t about memorizing spells and throwing them at your assailant, he had explained. Harry’s parents and Cedric Diggory hadn’t died because they weren’t skilled enough wizards; they had possessed much more talent than Harry, there was no question in his mind.
Snape had said much the same to him all summer long. Berating Harry about being too predictable to rarely get the advantage during their numerous practice duels, while still managing to teach him a ton. Harry had been looking forward to passing on that wisdom to anyone who wanted it, if only for the sake of feeling like he was doing something to fight against Voldemort and the Ministry. Now he felt more defeated than ever.
“Let’s just go,” he told them impatiently. “Maybe Professor Snape will let us leave early since we don’t have to wait around for practice to end.”
“Yeah, alright,” Ron nodded. “Do you think Sirius will tell us to go ahead if we ask him?”
“I think it’s exactly the sort of thing he and my Dad would have done if they were us,” Harry replied confidently. Even if he didn’t remember his father, he could just imagine the thrill it would have given James and Sirius to plan such a rebellion under a high ranking ministry official’s nose. Though that didn’t mean he should necessarily do the same.
“Hmm,” Hermione pursed her lips, her eyes narrowing. “Harry, have you considered asking Snape’s opinion on this?” she asked quietly, under the protection of the loud whooping and cheering from the students gathered around Fred and George.
“Are you mad?” Ron asked her incredulously. “Snape assigned him that essay on Shrinking Solutions today as punishment, and Harry’s potion wasn’t the worst in the class.” He turned to Harry. “Unless he just did that to score higher in Umbridge’s inspection because he knows that she hates you?”
“No, he meant it,” Harry said gloomily, who admittedly hadn’t been paying the slightest bit of attention to his cauldron during that morning’s lesson. He’d been too preoccupied with listening in on Umbridge questioning Snape. “He’d probably give me detention just for considering going ahead with the group. He made me promise to stop getting into trouble with Umbridge”.
“I just thought that Snape, of all people, would probably want us to learn how to defend ourselves against the Dark Arts,” said Hermione. “He taught you so much this summer, Harry.”
“Yeah, he did,” Harry agreed. “But I still don’t think he’d be happy. Let’s ask Sirius what he thinks this weekend, and then we can decide what to tell everyone else when we get back.”
“Alright,” Hermione agreed. “I’ll meet you back down here in a few minutes.”
Harry and Ron left her at the bottom of the winding stairwell that led up to the girls’ dormitory, and then climbed the one up to the boys’. Harry was appreciative to see that their room was vacant. He didn’t want to have to endure another conversation with Neville and Dean about whether to risk expulsion to practice Defence Against the Dark Arts, especially if Seamus was around. Harry dumped his books out of his backpack onto his four poster bed, and then began to gather up clothes and other things he’d need for the weekend.
“If Umbridge doesn’t let us have Quidditch, I might ask Sirius if I can just not come back,” Harry said depressively, glancing under the bed at his Firebolt wistfully, as he searched for a clean pair of socks.
“Dumbledore won’t let her get away with that,” Ron said positively, as he shoved a knit maroon sweater into his backpack.
“I’m not sure that Dumbledore has much control over her,” Harry replied skeptically.
They finished up and then went back downstairs to meet Hermione in the common room. “Say hi to Mum and Dad!” Ginny called to them with a wink, as they passed her on their way out of the portrait hole.
It was the story that had been devised to explain where they were going that weekend. The twins and Ginny had come up with reasons to give should anyone ask why they also weren’t returning to the Burrow for a visit with Mr and Mrs Weasley. Only Professors Dumbledore, McGonagall, and Snape knew the truth; that they were going to be staying with Harry’s Godfather at the headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix. Umbridge was not to be informed until she noticed their absence, but nobody had any doubt she’d be livid to discover three students had left the school without her express permission.
“Quick, get under here,” Harry said to the other two, after they reached the bottom of the marble staircase and were about to start descending the stone steps to the dungeons.
He took out his invisibility cloak and threw it over the three of them when nobody was watching. It was awkward shuffling under it together, taking great care to ensure that none of their shoes were detectable to a passing Slytherin student. The walk to Snape’s office was so familiar to Harry by now that he was quite sure he could make it there with his eyes closed, though this was the first time he was bringing Ron and Hermione with him. They were to take a portkey from there to Grimmauld Place. It would be the first time Harry had seen or spoken to Sirius in nearly a month.
“Ow - what?” Ron had accidentally trodden on Hermione’s foot when Harry halted suddenly, backing them all up underneath the cloak.
“Malfoy,” Harry answered in a soft undertone.
They had just turned down the corridor where the Slytherin common room was located. Harry had caught sight of Snape escorting Malfoy over to the entrance, and his interest was piqued. Snape had his hand on the pale boy’s shoulder and Malfoy was looking extremely distressed about something. They stood in front of a stone wall, talking quietly to one another. Then Snape gave the password, and the entrance revealed itself to admit them both.
“I wonder what he’s so upset about?” Harry muttered.
“Well, his father’s a death eater, isn’t he?” Hermione said logically. “And you said Voldemort was staying at his house during the summer. I imagine he could be upset about a number of things.”
“I don’t think Malfoy cares about any of that,” Harry said darkly.
“Maybe Pansy broke up with him?” Ron sniggered, as they continued on down the corridor, reaching Snape’s office a minute later.
“Mollitiam,” Harry spoke confidently from underneath the cloak.
“This feels like trespassing,” Ron admitted, as the door swung open and they quickly slipped inside.
Once the door had closed behind them securely, they took off the cloak and Harry returned it to his backpack. Then he went over to the wall and touched the black stone without even having to look to remember exactly where it stuck out. Ron and Hermione watched in amazement as it began to disassemble into the archway that Harry entered through very often.
“It’s become so normal,” he confessed to them.
“I think it’s wonderful,” Hermione said supportively, as the living area came into greater view. “And so fascinating - I’d never really considered before where the professors all live. Do they all have apartments inside the school? I know from Hogwarts: A History that the Headmaster’s study is a very grand and multi-roomed suite, but I hadn’t thought about the others. Professor McGonagall’s is off her office, I suppose just like this, but it would be fairly small.”
“Or maybe they just use magic to make it bigger?” Harry suggested, as they walked into the living room and set their backpacks on the floor. “Snape added a bedroom onto here with his wand like it was nothing.”
“An Engorgement Charm,” said Hermione knowledgeably.
“That’s what Mum and Dad did whenever they had another one of us,” said Ron, walking a circle around the room inspecting basic items like the blanket over the couch and a cup on the coffee table, as if they were extraordinary finds. Snape had books and stacks of parchment spread all across the kitchen counter, a familiar sight that signified he was in the middle of important research. “I’m not sure what I was expecting….”
“Come see my room,” Harry told them, who still felt elated to have a place to call his own. He knew they’d be just as enthralled with the window into the secret world that existed under the waters of the Black Lake as he still was.
Ron and Hermione followed him down the hall, past Snape’s closed bedroom door, and into his own room with the door left partly ajar. Everything was exactly as Harry had left it a few days prior; tidy, but with a lived in comfortability that came from getting a lot of use. More and more miscellaneous objects seemed to be finding their way in here. Extra ink bottles, quills, clothing, library books he’d have to remember to return when he got back from Grimmauld Place, and a few gags he had picked up at Zonko’s Joke Shop during the last Hogsmeade weekend. It was as personalized and uncannily his own, as Ron’s bright orange Chudley Cannons attic bedroom at the Burrow told of Ron.
“This is magnificent,” said Hermione, walking over to the wall of glass and touching her hand to it. “It’s not bewitched?”
“No, it’s real,” Harry replied. “You have to close the drapes if you don’t want any merpeople looking in, apparently; but I always keep them open. There’s a school of fish that likes to poke at the window.”
“That’s cooler than the ghoul above my room,” Ron commented.
“Not really,” Harry replied. “But it’s a lot cooler than the old bedroom full of Dudley’s broken things that the Dursleys gave me.”
“Do you think you’ll still have to go back to them next summer?” asked Ron.
“I don’t know,” Harry said, who hadn’t thought far enough ahead to start contemplating whether the Dursleys might actually be a thing of the past for him. “I guess if Dumbledore says it’s okay not to….”
Hermione was still examining the window. “I wonder what spell he used to keep everlasting light at the bottom of the lake,” she spoke aloud to herself.
“Dunno,” Harry said. He couldn’t recall any of the specific spells Snape had used to create this room for him. He had been too preoccupied with being in shock at the impressive gesture to pay much attention to such specifics.
“I bet Dumbledore will say it’s okay,” Ron said, settling himself onto Harry’s bed and taking out the screaming yo-yo that he had bought at Zonko’s last Saturday. “Why should you have to suffer? Snape can keep you safe better than those muggles can.”
“Maybe. I hope so,” answered Harry, who didn’t want to think about returning to Privet Drive at all right now. “Dumbledore really wanted me and Snape to learn to work together. He told me that when I went off with him during the summer. He said he thinks it’s our side's best chance. So, he might let me.” He had no doubt at all that Snape would have him if it was pre-approved by Dumbledore.
“I think it’s the best thing that could have happened,” Hermione said sincerely, walking over to Harry’s desk and flipping over the cover of ‘The Essential Defence Against the Dark Arts’, which he had checked out of the library in excitement for the first meeting of their group, which now might not ever happen.
“Voldemort thinks Snape’s his right hand man,” she elaborated. “There’s nobody who could better prepare you or help our side. I can see why Dumbledore hoped this would work out.”
“Yeah,” said Harry, who could agree that there were many advantages to having Snape in a guardian role over himself. Although, none of them were the primary reason why it had occurred. The most beneficial to himself was the least acknowledged, but he didn’t really want to get into that with them. Not least, because he’d just heard the sound of the archway forming out in the living room, which meant Snape was home.
“This has a load of spells I’ve never even heard of,” Hermione observed, settling herself in the desk chair with “The Essential Defence” without another word.
“I’ll ask when we can leave,” Harry said, leaving them in the safety of his bedroom while he went out to talk to Snape alone. He was already standing at the counter, rifling through pieces of parchment he had filled with his cramped handwriting, looking for a specific that he pulled out midway through his pile.
“Aren’t you a little early?” Snape asked, without looking up at him.
“No Quidditch practice,” Harry explained dully, walking over to grip the edge of the countertop as he looked down at the stacks of handwritten notes and yellowed dog-eared books. He could make out a few key words such as ‘venom’ and ‘antidote’ on the page of an open text. What was Snape working on now?
“Oh that’s right,” Snape smirked, pulling the book Harry was attempting to read upside down closer to himself. Snape ran his finger down the column as he looked between it and the parchment in his other hand. “Professor McGonagall has already been to Professor Dumbledore to insist that he intervene on that matter.”
“So, she’s going to have to let us play?” Harry asked in relief.
“I suppose,” Snape said indifferently, as he blotted his quill and then made a cross-out in his notes. “At least until another decree is signed giving the High Inquisitor authority over the Headmaster, so I wouldn’t get too comfortable if I were you.”
“No,” Harry agreed quietly, glancing over his shoulder as Ron and Hermione walked slowly into the room. Snape looked up when he heard them coming and then back down at the book he was referencing, flipping through it deliberately to a chapter towards the back, as if their presence was of little interest to him.
“You three know perfectly well that this isn’t about Quidditch, obviously,” he said softly after about a minute. “Professor Dumbledore knows as well. Did you really think that his brother wouldn’t tell him about a group of conspiring students descending upon his bar?”
“Aberforth wouldn’t tell Umbridge though,” Harry interjected, who had at least gotten that impression of loyalty from the younger Dumbledore brother during their brief meeting last summer.
“Aberforth wasn’t the only person who heard you talking about secret clubs in a public place,” Snape replied, shaking his head as though he couldn’t grasp the sheer stupidity of the entire matter. “Your Godfather was right….you would make a terrible spy. Maybe I should be more worried about my own life, placing so much trust in ignorant students, such as yourselves, to not blow my cover.”
“That’s hardly the same thing,” Harry argued.
“Well, for my sake, I hope not,” Snape told him dryly. “Professor Umbridge was already scrambling to get an owl over to the Minister about your plans before you were even on your way back to the castle. Quidditch will be the least of your problems if she finds out you’re still intending to go through with it.”
“How do you know we’re still intending to go through with it?” Harry asked, glancing over at Ron and Hermione who had sat down on the sofa together and were watching the exchange very closely.
“Because you don’t like to abide by the reasonable school rules set for your safety, so why would you take any notice of ridiculous ministry decrees?” asked Snape sarcastically.
“Well, I don’t want to get expelled,” Harry admitted after a pause.
“But I do think we should be familiar with basic defence,” Hermione added, incapable of staying quiet any longer, as she leaned forward in her seat. “Don’t you think so, Professor?”
“Miss Granger, what I think and what I’d advise the three of you to do are two separate things,” Snape said, closing the book with a loud thud. “Of course, Defence Against the Dark Arts is important. There are people outside these grounds who would love to kill you all.”
“So, you do think we should go for it, sir?” Harry pressed, leaning over the counter so that his shadow obscured some of Snape’s notes.
Snape shot him an annoyed sort of look. “Just don’t be stupid, that’s all I’m going to say about the matter. Consider who you’ve let in on this plan. Are they trustworthy? Is it worth the risk? You’re going to do what you’re going to do anyway, no matter what I tell you. At least this time you’re motivated to further your education rather than sticking your nose where it doesn’t belong. However, I will be extremely displeased if you get yourself expelled.”
“So, just don’t get caught?” Harry decoded with a smile.
Snape pursed his lips. “Weasley, bring me that cup on the coffee table.”
Ron did as he was told. Snape took the mug from him in one hand and then took his wand out with the other. He pointed it at the handle and it seemed to shoot a spark that radiated the whole thing. “If anyone other than Professor Dumbledore tried to create a portkey inside the Hogwarts grounds, they’d give themselves a nasty shock. I’m just activating it a couple hours sooner. It will be ready in a minute. Go grab your bags.”
They did, and then Harry remembered the large bag of Honeydukes Chocolates he had bought in Hogsmeade to bring to Sirius. He ran into his bedroom to grab it off the dresser and then rushed back to stand next to Snape. He touched his fingers to the rim of the coffee mug, like Ron and Hermione already were, while Snape clutched the handle.
"Couple seconds,” Snape muttered, as the cup seemed to tingle in their hands. Then Harry felt a tug along his navel and was pulled into nothingness.