• Previous
• Part 1 Part 2
• Next

It was at the end of Potter’s first year that Severus finally admitted that the Harry Potter before him was not the son of James Potter, and with that realization, when all was said and done, he really had no problem with the boy. 

Or with any other member of the Addams family.

It had taken a lot of thought, but as he had reviewed the previous year, he had come to realise that his fear, while genuine, was unwarranted.  They had no interest in him.  Well, unless he did something incredibly stupid, and put himself in the firing line.

He was not the sort of person who couldn’t see which side of the bread was buttered.  He was quite convinced that they would destroy Voldemort, and that consequently he would live an unexpectedly long time – if he could manage to stay out of their way.

The very fact that the boy was clearly not the son of his hated enemy made this decision eminently palatable.

---

---

“Severus.”

“Narcissa,” he replied silkily.  “It has been a long time.”

“Indeed, it has,” she agreed.  “Can we talk, I mean alone, somewhere?”

“Alone?” he asked mockingly.  “That would be hardly be proper, would it?  What would Lucius think?”

Narcissa frowned at him.  “I hope you aren’t suggesting anything inappropriate?  I merely wish to discuss a vexing issue with you.  It is regarding Draco.”

“Ahh,” Snape said slowly.  He nodded, and together they walked into a tea shop, taking a small room at the back.

“What is the matter?” he asked.

Narcissa, now that she was in private, looked worried.  “Draco refuses to return to Hogwarts.”

“Because?” Snape prompted.

“He fears for his life!  That Potter boy and Addams girl are out to get him!”

Snape sighed.  “Did he tell you that?”

She nodded.

Severus shook his head.  “You do know that I was disappointed with him, last year?  Why, he spent most of the year acting like a Gryffindor.”

“Severus!” Narcissa said, shocked.

“He was rash, foolhardy, arrogant, and refused to learn from his mistakes.  Tell me where the Slytherin is in that?”

“But…” Narcissa said, before she trailed off.

“Indeed,” Severus murmured, taking a sip of tea.  “Now that everyone knows that the Dark Lord is alive and in spirit form, would Lucius taunt him?  Would Lucius order him around?”

“Of course not!” Narcissa replied.  “My husband is nothing but loyal to the Dark Lord.”

“But what about years ago, when our Lord was starting up, when he was a little more open.  Would he have done it then?  When he was merely Voldemort, selling his vision for a glorious future to us all?”

“Of course not,” Narcissa said again.  “Where are you going with this?”

“Why not?” Severus asked.  “He wasn’t as well known as he was now, why didn’t Lucius try and take charge?  And don’t answer immediately; think about it for a second.”

Narcissa nodded.  She took a sip of her own tea.  “Because we knew,” she eventually said.  “We knew he was the one.  We knew his power, his ruthlessness.  We didn’t need to see it, it was just there.”

“Quite,” Severus agreed.  He took another sip of the tea, and then looked at Narcissa directly.  “Harry Potter and Wednesday Addams possess a similar aura of certainty, only more so.”

Narcissa paled.

“Oh yes,” Severus agreed.  “The seventh years had been looking forward to the favours they could gain by currying favour with your son.  And Draco knew it.  And he approached things with the sensitivity of a house-elf in a library. 

“Others in Slytherin were looking forward to getting some revenge on Potter for the fall of our Dark Lord.

“But they did nothing.

“Why?  Because they recognised from the start that Potter and Addams were dangerous.  It was nothing obvious, well, not until Draco tried to order Addams to do something.  It was ridiculous. Potter broke Draco’s arm, affixed him to the table with a knife, and you know what they did then?”

Narcissa shook her head.

“They danced.”

“What?”

“They danced, waltzed around the Common Room, as if nothing had happened.”

Narcissa shuddered.

“Draco is a spoiled oik,” Snape said.  “And instead of finding out what Potter and Addams wanted, he tried to wrest control from them.  He was outclassed at every level, and was treated as an irrelevance by them.”

“So what can we do?”

Snape sighed.  “You can try to find a way to increase his power, his intelligence, his attitude and his ability.”

Narcissa sighed.  “Power?”

“Did you know that Addams clan believes in inter-breeding?”

Narcissa wrinkled her nose in distaste.

“And,” Severus continued, “Wednesday Addams believes that it would be ‘nice’ of her to kill all the Purebloods.”

Narcissa blinked.  “Excuse me?”

“She believes that Purebloods are a dying breed, and that it would be nice to put them out of their misery.”  He had to phrase the beliefs carefully; he had no wish to allow his own blood status to be common knowledge.  “And having seen her parents’ mastery of wandless magic, the way they can Apparate through the strongest of wards, and the casual way in which they incapacitated Lucius, I find it difficult to disagree with them.”

Narcissa looked pale, but she didn’t say anything as she spent a few minutes in silent contemplation.

“What do Potter and Addams want?”

“To push back the boundaries of Magic.  The Dark Lord gave up the extent of his own research, in return for the Philosopher’s Stone.  He was then betrayed,” Snape said, but he paused and looked at Narcissa directly.  “It was the most Slytherin thing I have ever seen.  Everyone, Dumbledore, the Dark Lord, me, believed they had handed over the real thing, until the bomb exploded.

“That is but one example of the things they can do.  I do not know when, but I know for a certainty that there will be a battle between them and the Dark Lord.”

Narcissa was breathing heavily, before she took a very deep breath, and regained her composure.  “Severus,” she said, “I need your help with Draco.”

“What do you want, Narcissa?”

“Would you look after him, see he comes to no harm?”

He nodded.  “If he follows my instructions, I will do so.”

“Swear,” Narcissa said.  “If you are there to protect him… he would return to school. Severus, will you swear it? Will you make the Unbreakable Vow?”

Severus frowned, and then nodded.  “We need one more person, do we not?”

Narcissa nodded.  “Will you come to my house, later?”

Snape nodded.  “Tonight?”

Narcissa nodded.  “For dinner.”

He stood, and bowed.  “Until tonight.”

He turned and walked out the door, almost willing to smile.  He would be owed a huge debt for this, one he would definitely call in later.

---

---

He had indeed sworn, although with the single proviso that Draco did what he was told.  Narcissa had agreed to that, unaware that Snape’s simple advice would be for Draco to keep his stupid head down, and out of their way.  He knew, without a doubt, that Potter and Addams would ignore him, if he did.

Still, he did find himself looking forward to the arrival of Potter and Addams.

Why?

Because of yet another of Albus Dumbledore’s great decisions: the hiring of Gilderoy Lockhart.

A decision that was close to the decision to hide the Philosopher’s Stone in Hogwarts on the scale of stupidity.

---

---

Severus Snape sat, as he did at the start of every year, scowling as the students entered the Great Hall.

He found himself looking forward to the start of the term, which wasn’t something he was used to experiencing.

The difference, this year, was the anticipation of the entertainment he had from the person sitting near him, and how certain students were going to react to him.

He’d bet his meagre pension that Wednesday Addams would not join in the crowd fawning over Lockhart.

The doors swung open and the students entered.  As always, they were making far too much noise.  He nodded to some of his Slytherins, and watched curiously as the second years started to enter.  Weasley arrived, along with Longbottom and Finnegan, closely followed by Granger.  The fact that Potter and the Addamses were not with her, suggested that they had not been on the train.

Granger paused and looked at the Gryffindor table before she took a deep breath and walked over to the Slytherin table.  She sat, four seats from the end of the second years’ section, a blank look on her face.

Severus sighed softly and wondered if the Hat would allow for re-Sorting.  It was testament to the effect that Harry and Wednesday had on his House that no one complained out loud, although there were more than a few dark looks.  Draco, who looked appalled, at least had the good sense to keep his mouth shut.

The doors closed, and he could hear the faint noise of Minerva dealing with the new first years.  The Hat was on the stool, waiting to Sort the students.

The doors creaked open again, and in the doorway stood the very students he had been thinking about.

Pugsley was grinning wildly, and he threw a wave at a few people as he dashed over to Hermione, sitting next to her.

Harry and Wednesday, moving at a much slower pace, made their way to their seats.  As always, they were dressed immaculately.  They had both grown over the summer – not much, but enough to be noticeable, but everything else about them was the same, from the closeness of each step that they took, to the inhuman calm that they displayed.

“Harry Potter, eh,” Lockhart said excitedly. “I’ll bet he can’t wait to meet me.”

“Quite,” Severus purred.  “In fact, I believe that young Miss Addams is a big fan of yours.”

“Aren’t they all?” Lockhart asked, throwing his head back dramatically.

“Oh, indeed,” Snape murmured, “indeed.”

The doors opened again and the young ones trooped in.  Unlike last year, there was no one that really stood out.  He watched the Sorting, applauding the Slytherins and playing his normal game of predicting which House a student would be sent to.

He was normally in the high nineties.

The final person to be sorted was yet another Weasley.  A Gryffindor, obviously, as all her bloody siblings were or had been.

“Slytherin,” the Hat yelled.

The Hall went silent, as the now incredibly pale girl blinked, and took the Hat off her head.

“Ginevra Weasley!” the biggest prat on Team Weasley yelled in horror.

Ginevra, somehow, went even paler.  All the Weasleys were looking on in a curious mixture of shock, anger, horror.

The red-haired girl gulped and slowly moved toward the Slytherin table.

Severus found his eyes glancing ahead, to see what Wednesday and Potter thought about this.

As always, their facial expressions weren’t betraying anything about what they were actually thinking, before Wednesday smiled faintly.  She didn’t even look at Harry as she whispered to Pugsley.

Pugsley blinked in surprise, and nodded.  He whispered to Hermione, and they both moved up, creating a space on their table.

Ginny’s eyes went wide, before she gulped again, and moved to the space that had been opened up for her.

“You can’t….” the biggest bore of the Weasley’s started.

“Quiet,” Harry whispered in his impossible voice.  “The Sorting is over.”

Ron went silent, although his face was red.

Snape turned, to see Dumbledore looking as surprised as everyone else.  With a twinkle, the surprise was gone, and the Headmaster was on his feet, giving his normal speech.  Albus actually only had seven speeches, one for each year, and he rotated through them.  This was year three in the cycle.

“Albus,” Severus said after everyone had eaten.  “Has there ever been anyone re-Sorted before?”

“Miss Granger?” Albus asked.

Snape nodded.

“Why don’t we invite her to my office, and we’ll see if she wants to switch, and what the Hat says,” Albus said.  “Minerva, as well, obviously.”

Snape nodded and waited until everyone was dismissed.  “Miss Granger,” he said quietly as he approached the second year’s section of the table.  “Will you please accompany me to the Headmaster’s office?”

She nodded calmly, her eyes not showing any fear, and Severus almost smiled.  He had her.  She was no longer a Gryffindor.  And she would help ensure that it was the Slytherin House that won the Cup again this year.

Hermione didn’t ask any questions as she followed him into Albus’ office.  Minerva and Albus were already waiting for them; the Hat was resting on one side of the table.  “Take a seat,” Albus said cheerfully.

Hermione sat down, as he took his place to the left of Albus.  She was looking at them all calmly.

“Did you have a good summer, Miss Granger?” Albus asked.

She smiled. 

“I did.”

“Excellent,” Albus said, his eyes twinkling.  He was radiating the ‘trust-me’ vibe that usually had the children talking their hind legs off.  “Did you go anywhere nice on holiday?”

“I did, thank you,” she said politely.

There was a few seconds of silence, as Albus waited for her to expand, and in which Hermione didn’t flinch.

“Miss Granger,” Severus started, already bored with Albus’ attempts to get her to talk.  “We couldn’t help but notice that you sat at the Slytherin table this evening.”

She nodded in agreement.

“We called you here to discuss with you, and with the Hat, the idea of you being re-Sorted.”

“That would be nice,” Hermione said enthusiastically.  “Can we do that?”

“Do you really want to leave Gryffindor?” Minerva asked sadly.

“Definitely,” Hermione replied.  “Loyalty is something that is earned, not given, and the Gryffindors have done nothing to earn it from me.”

Minerva winced, while Snape hid his smile.  “Slytherin isn’t noted for being the most tolerant,” she tried.

“And Gryffindors are?” Hermione demanded.  “I will be perfectly safe in Slytherin, thank you very much.”

“May I ask where you went this summer?” Albus asked suddenly.

Hermione smiled.  “I was told that you’d ask that question,” she said softly.  “And they were right.”  She paused, and looked each professor in the eye, one at a time.  “I spent two weeks in America, in New Jersey to be precise.”

“At the Mansion on Cemetery Ridge,” Albus finished.

“Exactly.”

Severus sighed.  “Are you going to tell us what happened?” he asked, “or are we going to play games for a while?”

“I would like to be in Slytherin,” Hermione replied primly.

The Hat suddenly snorted.  “She’s a Slytherin now,” he said.  “If she wants to change, that’s fine by me.  All she has to do is ask, and she’s done that.”

“You don’t want to sit on her head?” Minerva asked. 

“Haven’t you been paying attention, woman?” the Hat demanded.  “She’s already blackmailing you, waiting until you grant her request before she tells her story, if that’s not a Slytherin attitude, I don’t know what is.”

“Thank you,” Hermione said, before Minerva could say anything else.  Severus clapped his hands, and ordered the house-elf that appeared to move Hermione’s things.

“Now,” Hermione said, “as to my summer…”

---

---

Hermione pushed her trolley through the gates at the airport.  She was aware that she was looking around like a crazy person, but this had been the first time that she had ever travelled to America, and the first time that she had travelled alone, and in First Class as well.

She hadn’t expected to be here, but it had been a week and a half after she had arrived home, when she had already done her homework, and was starting to get bored, that her mother had received a phone call.

“Hermione,” her mother had said.  “How would you like to go to America?”

“To visit Pugsley?” she had gasped.

Her mother smiled.  “I’ve just had an extremely pleasant conversation with his mother, Morticia, and she has invited you to stay for a few weeks, returning just prior to when your Father and I have booked our holidays.”

“May I go?” she begged.

“I’ve already told Morticia yes.”  She frowned, “I don’t feel truly comfortable with the fact that they are paying,” she confessed, “but Morticia was very insistent.  She’s going to sort everything out.”

True to her word, the plane tickets had been delivered by courier the next day, with her flight two days later.  Her father had been suitably impressed as well, and not just with the efficiency, but with the fact that a Wizarding family knew how the real world worked so well.

She was pulled out of her daze by a gigantic man appearing next to her.  “Miss Granger?” he intoned slowly.

Hermione swallowed the urge to faint, scream, or run back to England.  “Lurch?” she asked.

He seemed to be smiling, although her eyesight wasn’t quite good enough to see that high.  With no effort at all he picked up the trolley and walked away.  She followed him, half smiling.  He was exactly as Pugsley had described.

Outside, an ancient hearse was waiting for them.  Despite its age, it was immaculate.  Lurch placed her bags in the back, and then tossed the trolley carelessly into the path of a Porsche 911.  The car screeched to a halt, but any protest the driver might have been made was instantly quelled after a look at Lurch.  Lurch ignored all this as he opened the door for her.

She slid in the front seat and did her seat belt up.  As quickly as she could, she pulled a small potion bottle from her pocket, and downed it.  It was a calming potion, and she was incredibly grateful for the suggestion as Lurch started to drive.  Without it, she would have been screaming, as Lurch seemed to pay scant regard to anything else on the road, yet never manage to actually hit anything – several small animals having lucky escapes.

They arrived, in what was probably record time, outside a huge mansion that looked somewhat dilapidated.  It was incredibly gothic, with a huge tower dominating the skyline.  The gates creaked open, and Lurch drove them up to the entrance.

The door opened and Pugsley jumped out and ran down the stairs.  “Hermione!”

“Pugsley,” she cried happily, giving him the quickest of hugs.

“Yes,” he said, “I’ve done my homework.”

“I wasn’t going to ask,” she protested.

“Yet,” he added.

She grinned and shrugged.

“Thanks Lurch,” Pugsley shouted as he grabbed her hand and moved her inside.  She didn’t get to see if Lurch made any response.  Inside was curious; despite the decay, it had a lived in feel that was very pleasant.  It was as if the decrepit nature of the property added to the feeling, rather than ruined it.

“Harry and Wends are busy,” the boy continued, rolling his eyes, “and Uncle Fester’s off hunting with the Yeti again.”

“Pugsley, let the poor girl speak,” Morticia said as she glided into the hallway.  “Welcome to our home, Hermione.”

“Thank you,” Hermione squeaked, a little intimidated by the incredibly graceful woman.  “And thank you for having me.”

“It is truly our pleasure,” Morticia replied.  “Harry mentioned that finding intelligent people in England seemed to be a slight issue.”

Hermione blushed.

“Would you like a snack before dinner?”

“I can wait, thank you,” she replied.  “I’m not as jetlagged as I expected.”

Morticia nodded.  “We’ll have a potion ready for you at dinner that will deal with any jetlag you do have.  Pugsley, why don’t you show Hermione to her room and then give her a quick tour of the house?”

“Okay, Mom,” Pugsley said and grabbed Hermione’s hand again.  “Come on, you’re up here.”  She allowed herself to be pulled up two flights of stairs and across a landing.  Pugsley paused and pointed at another staircase.  “Up there, and to the left, is Harry’s room.  Wednesday’s is to the right.  Do not go up there without invitation.  They value their privacy.”

Hermione nodded and gulped.

“And in here,” Pugsley continued, “is your room.”

Unlike the rest of the house, this room looked to be brand new.  The wall paper was a pastel yellow, and there was a matching bed spread.  To the right, two large wardrobes bracketed a chest of drawers, with a door to the left that appeared to lead to a bathroom.  “Mom knows that you’re normal,” Pugsley said, “so she made sure you’d be comfortable.”

“I didn’t expect this, she didn’t need to go to any trouble for me,” Hermione protested.

Pugsley shrugged.  “You’re our guest, and our responsibility,” he explained.  “Our clan take that sort of thing very seriously.”

Hermione noticed that her suitcases were already unpacked. 

“Did you bring your wand?”

She nodded.  “Even though I can’t use it, I don’t like being away from it.”

“Why can’t you use it?” Pugsley asked, as they moved out of her room and back down the corridor.

Hermione blinked at him.  “We’re not allowed to!  The Ministry says…”

“Hermione,” a new voice sighed.  “What did we teach you about rules?”

She turned, to see Harry and Wednesday standing together on the bottom step, looking at her.  Wednesday was wearing a grey and white patterned dress with white cuffs and collars.  As always, her hair was immaculately braided.  Harry was wearing a white shirt and pinstripe black trousers, along with shiny black shoes.

“That they are more advisory than actual dictates?”

Harry smiled faintly.  “Close enough.”

“So I can do spells here?”

He nodded.  “You’re in America now, a slightly more civilised country.  Why, they’ve even had fresh ideas in the last century.”

Hermione giggled.

“Welcome to our house,” Wednesday said formally. 

“Thank you.”

“We’ll see you at dinner,” Harry said, and the two turned and walked back upstairs.

“That was nice of them,” Pugsley said in surprise.  “They don’t normally come out of their rooms during the day.”

The tour of the house ended in a large kitchen.  There was an old woman hunched over a cauldron, stirring it with a ladle, at the far side of a large wooden table.  The woman looked up and smiled.  “Hello, dearie.”

“Grandmama,” Pugsley said, “This is Hermione.”

“Welcome, I’m Grandmama,” Grandmama said.  “Are you about ready to eat?”

Hermione nodded.

Grandmama smiled and turned, a match sparking to life in her hand.  She touched it to a cannon that Hermione hadn’t noticed, and after a brief hissing, the cannon boomed, sending a ball crashing through the window.  There was a pause, and then someone’s voice yelled, “Addams!”

Grandmama smirked and winked at Hermione.  “Judge Snyder.  He doesn’t like us.”

“Come on,” Pugsley said, leading her to the table.  “That was the signal for the others.”

Morticia was the first to join them, sitting at the foot of the table.  Harry and Wednesday arrived next and sat near Morticia.  Thing was next, and he sat next to Hermione.

“Pugsley, your friend arrived,” the excited voice of Gomez Addams announced.  “How very delighted we are to meet you again, Hermione – you don’t mind me calling you that, do you?”

“Of course not, Mr Addams,” she replied.

Gomez whirled around.  “Dad?” he asked.  “I’m sorry about Mom, it was an accident!  I didn’t know the gun was loaded with silver!”

“She meant you, dear,” Morticia pointed out.

“Me? How remarkable,” he marvelled.  “Gomez, that’s my name.  That, or ‘Dad,’ but in your case, I’m pretty sure I wasn’t in England twelve-thirteen years ago.”

“You weren’t,” Morticia agreed.  “Grandmama, is the food ready?”

“Why yes,” the old woman replied happily, “it is.”  She pulled out two plates first, each bearing a cheeseburger and chips, putting one in front of Hermione and the other in front of Pugsley.  She moved back, and returned with a small steaming cauldron.  Using a solid silver ladle, she doled out heaping bowls for everyone else.

---

---

Hermione paused and looked up.  “May I have a drink please?”

“Of course,” Albus replied, clapping his hands.  A variety of drinks appeared in front of Hermione.

“What were they eating?” Minerva asked.

“Their usual food,” Hermione replied.  “It’s not the sort of thing you want spelled out, but Pugsley had asked everyone to be on their best behaviour for me, which was why I had somewhat normal food.”  She smiled faintly. “The burger was a little rarer than I would normally eat, but after the effort they’d been through to try and be, well, normal for me, it was the least I could do in return.”

She smiled, “I knew what to expect, of course, which was why I was still under the effects of the calming potion.  The issue of the food was soon dealt with. Pugsley asked Harry and Wednesday for help, and they came up with a potion that allowed me to eat their food.  I will never look at vegetarians the same way,” she finished.

Severus tried very hard not to ask, but gave in.  “What was the potion?”

Hermione looked at him.  “I’m afraid that I don’t know.  It did taste of raspberries though, and was delicious.”

Severus frowned, he couldn’t think of anything off the top of his head that would meet those parameters and taste at all palatable, much less fruity.  He made a mental note to ask the Addams children about it later.

“It’s getting late,” Hermione said, “could we continue this story another day?”

“Yes,” Severus said.  “The password to your common room is ‘Destiny’.”

Hermione nodded.  “Good night,” she said, as she slipped out the door.

“Knock that smug grin of your face, Severus,” Minerva said with a sigh.

“Me?” Severus asked.  “Just because I’m going to win, again.”

“We’ll still beat you at Quidditch,” Minerva muttered.

Severus sneered at her, hating to admit that she had a point. 

“Children,” Albus said softly.  “Stop it.”

Minerva turned and poked her tongue out at Albus.  “What do you think about Ginevra?”

“She didn’t seem a bit surprised,” Snape said.  “I wonder if she just wanted to get away from her brothers.  A Weasley with common sense; whatever next?”

Minerva sighed.  “I can’t say I blame her.  They certainly are characters.  But, I’m dreading what Molly is going to say when she finds out.”

---

Severus arrived for breakfast the next morning earlier than normal; he wanted to ensure that if anything was to happen, he wouldn’t miss it.

The younger children had already been in bed by the time he had checked on the dungeon.  His sixth-year prefect had reported that Hermione and Ginny – as she preferred to be called – had settled in.  Ginny was accepted as she was, after all, a well-known pure-blood, even if the family was poor, and Hermione was known by all to be under the protection of Potter and Wednesday.

Wednesday and Potter turned up first, and glided to their places.  Pugsley and Hermione were next, accompanied by the female Weasley.

As before, she sat between Pugsley and Wednesday.  Severus decided to try and find out what was going on there as soon as possible.

Ron and Percy were the next noticeable arrivals, and they both glared at Ginny.  The twins bounded in shortly afterwards, without the glares.  More than anything, they looked confused and it didn’t look like they’d slept well.

Breakfast itself passed slowly, and Severus noted that Potter and Wednesday didn’t exactly eat as much as they pushed food around their plates.

He was starting to think that nothing was going to happen, when the owls started to fly in.  The two irritating Weasleys were looking up, and their expressions told him that his entertainment was about to occur.

A grey owl suddenly dived from the ceiling, heading uncontrollably toward the Slytherin table.  As it was about to splash down into a jug of milk, Potter’s hand shot out and caught it.

“Errol,” Ginny said quietly.

The owl shook himself and dropped a bright red envelope that was smoking slightly in front of Ginny – who recoiled backward.

“What is that?” Wednesday asked curiously.

“It’s… it’s a Howler,” Ginny muttered.

“What’s a Howler?” Pugsley asked, looking down the table.

“It’s a nasty letter sent to tell someone off,” Daphne answered.  “Parents use it to tell children off, as it magnifies the voice of the sender for effect.   If you don’t open it quickly, it will explode.”

“Who’s it from?” Harry asked.

“M-m-mum,” Ginny said.

“Is this about you joining Slytherin?”

“Probably.”

As was becoming the norm, most of the school was trying to see what was going on, and was listening in.  Most wondering how they would deal with the Howler.

Harry touched Wednesday’s hand, and she smiled faintly.  She twirled her fork in her fingers a time or two, and suddenly stabbed the Howler.

The Howler whimpered briefly, flapped one last time, and went still.

“Thank you,” Ginny said, a small smile appearing on her face.

“Pugsley,” Wednesday ordered, “make sure she’s all right.”

“Will do,” Pugsley said cheerfully, as Harry and Wednesday stood and walked out.

Ginny looked across at Pugsley, looking confused.  Snape moved from his seat, as the sound levels raised, so he could continue to listen in.

“Why?” she asked him.

Pugsley looked at her thoughtfully.  “Your brothers have a long track record of irritating Wednesday,” he eventually said.  “And you chose Slytherin.”

Ginny gasped, “How did you know that!?”

Pugsley laughed.  “Harry said so last night.  Independent thought pleases them, and Wends knows that your brothers are likely to do something stupid.”  He grinned suddenly.  “But really, the only reason she’s doing anything is because it will piss off your brothers.”

Ginny suddenly laughed.

“But,” Pugsley continued, his eyes suddenly going dark, “lose your crush, and lose it quickly,” he whispered intently.  “If Wednesday ever seriously considers you a rival, you’ll end up as Merpeople food before you can think.”

Ginny gulped.  “But… .”

“Harry is not the guy in your stories,” Pugsley continued inexorably, “he grew up an Addams.”

Ginny nodded slowly. “He is nothing like them,” she agreed.  She took a deep breath.  “It’s not gonna be easy,” she muttered.

“Of course it’s not,” Pugsley grinned, his eyes returning to life.  “But if you ever do feel like it’s difficult, I’ll get Wends to have a few words with you.”

Ginny’s face turned a remarkable shade of pale, before she shook herself.  “What about this?” she said, indicating the Howler.

“We don’t take that sort of thing lying down,” Pugsley decided.  “Come and find me after classes.”

Severus walked slowly up the table, handing out the timetables.  Without a word, he handed Harry and Wednesday’s to Pugsley.

“Thanks, Professor,” Pugsley said happily.  “Cool, Defence first as well.”

Snape smiled faintly and continued up the table.  As soon as he finished, he rushed to his office.  He’d switched with Lockhart so that Gryffindor and Slytherin would have Defence first – and he’d have a free period to watch.

It hadn’t been difficult, not when he’d mentioned that Potter was in that class.

In his office, he pulled out the Invisibility Cloak that Dumbledore had asked him to give Potter.  And he would…after he’d used it himself.

With a quick spell to mute any sound he might make, he made his way to the Defence classroom and stood at the back, in the corner.  

Wednesday and Potter arrived and sat at the front and waited silently, and Snape took the opportunity to examine them.  Even alone, they didn’t let their masks drop; they didn’t act any different at all.

Wednesday turned slowly and stared directly at him, before she raised a single eyebrow. She turned back to the front, dismissing him.

He felt his heart beating faster, he had no idea how she knew he was there, or why she didn’t seem concerned about it.

He took a deep breath and tried to relax as the other students entered the classroom.   Weasley and Finnegan both glared at Potter and Wednesday, before they took seats at the back, close to where he was standing.

Granger arrived next, with Pugsley, and they sat at the desk next to Potter and Wednesday.  Harry turned to Pugsley, and with a look and a flick of his eyes, Pugsley turned and looked at him as well.  He shrugged, and turned back to the front.

As the students walked in, most of them got their books out.  The four people at the front were conspicuous in their lack of books.

Gilderoy Lockhart bounced into the room like a demented ferret on Pepper-Up potion.  He cleared his throat loudly and silence fell. He reached forward, picked up Neville Longbottom’s copy of Travels with Trolls, and held it up to show his own, winking portrait on the front.

“Me,” he said, pointing at it and winking as well. “Gilderoy Lockhart, Order of Merlin, Third Class, Honorary Member of the Dark Force Defence League, and five-time winner of Witch Weekly’s Most-Charming-Smile Award - but I don't talk about that. I didn't get rid of the Bandon Banshee by smiling at her!”

He waited for them to laugh; a few people smiled weakly.  “I see you've all bought a complete set of my books - well done. I thought we'd start today with a little quiz. Nothing to worry about, it’s just to check how well you've read them, how much you've taken in.”

When he had handed out the test papers he returned to the front of the class and said, “You have thirty minutes - start - now!”

Most of the children picked up their quills and started to write.  Snape suddenly realised he was in the wrong position, and silently walked to the front so he could see Harry and Wednesday’s faces.

Hermione picked up a quill, but Pugsley reached out and lightly tapped her hand.  She stopped writing.

For a second, she looked torn, before she took a deep breath and she tried to cover her emotions.  Snape was impressed; she was already learning that authority figures had the disconcerting habit of being all too fallible, a life lesson that was vital to a proper Slytherin upbringing.

Gilderoy moved in front of Harry and Wednesday.  “Is there a problem?” he asked.  “I know, you’re so in awe of me that you can’t even move.  It happens.  How about I give you an autograph?”

Harry looked at him thoughtfully.  “Mr Lockhart,” he said slowly.  It wasn’t lost on Snape that he hadn’t addressed him as Professor.  “You claim to have vanquished the Wagga Wagga Werewolf.”

“Indeed I did,” Lockhart said excitedly.  “Quite a fight that one put up.”

“The Wagga Wagga Werewolf was defeated on June the 15th, in 1987, correct?”

“Excellent,” Lockhart praised.  “Reading my books so closely, simply outstanding.  You are a big fan.”

“A remarkable achievement,” Harry said softly.  “Considering that you were at the Ministry of Magic, receiving your Order of Merlin, third class, on that particular day.”

Lockhart gulped.  “What?”

“Please, Mr Lockhart,” Wednesday said, “are you going to teach us the art of being in two places at once?  I can see it being very useful.”

“A publishing error,” Lockhart said.  “Easily enough done.”

“Really?” Harry asked.  “And yet eye-witness accounts have the dates down exactly.”  Harry’s voice suddenly seemed to go colder than ice.  “Especially as those accounts tell of a story of heroism and refusal to give up.  As the warlock fought the werewolf for hours, before vanquishing him – not with a fake charm, but with a silver spoon from a table in a restaurant.

“And what we found most intriguing is how this warlock seemed to be under a memory charm.”

Lockhart started to stutter.

“Harry,” Wednesday said, putting her hand on Harry’s arm.  She turned and smiled tentatively at Lockhart.  The smile looked completely out of place, and anyone with half a brain would have spotted the look of anticipation in her eyes.  “I’m sure there’s an explanation.”

Snape smiled delightedly.  He could see the trap being laid.

Lockhart, it seemed, didn’t even have half a brain.  “Yes,” he agreed.  “Of course there is.”

“And the Professor can prove it, later today,” she continued.  “We’ll have a duel, just me against him, and when he beats me, you’ll see that it was all a mistake.”

The trap was baited.

“Capital idea, ten points to Slytherin,” Lockhart cried.

The trap was shut.  Lockhart was caught.  He just didn’t know it.

Harry turned to Wednesday, a deeply suspicious look on face.  “Fine,” he said.  “If he wins this evening, I’ll retract my statement and complete the quiz.”  He stood, “Until later.”  He walked out, Wednesday, Pugsley and Hermione accompanying him.

Snape followed them.

“Can you arrange for a duelling platform this evening?” Harry asked.

Snape sighed, removing the cloak.  “I will.”

Pugsley grinned at him.  “And perhaps you could ask Professor Flitwick to Adjudicate.  Old rules, naturally.”

“First blood,” Snape said to himself.  “As you’re out of class, library, the lot of you.”

“Yes, Professor,” Harry said, and turned.

“Potter,” Snape called.  He handed him the invisibility cloak.  “This is yours.  I believe it was your father’s.”

“Gomez never had an invisibility cloak,” Harry replied evenly.  “And reliance on a tool can lead to overconfidence.”

Snape nodded thoughtfully.  “It will be in my office if you ever need it.”

Harry nodded, and the four of them walked off in silence.

He watched them go.  He hadn’t expected Harry’s instant dismissal of James Potter as his father, and while it pleased him, it made him wonder just what had happened to Harry.

With a shrug, he went to arrange this evening’s duel, before he had to start teaching.  He almost skipped down the corridor.  The evening’s entertainment was going to be wonderful.  A duel by the old rules, between a second-year and a Professor, and soon, the Professor was going to be humiliated and gone.

---

Rumours of the duel had swept through the school, and Albus had tried to cancel it, but Gilderoy had insisted it go ahead, so that he might clear the smirch on his honour.  He was already making excuses for Harry, saying that the boy was just jealous of his better looks and bigger fame.

Snape had agreed completely, silencing anyone who had tried to warn Lockhart.

And now he had a prime seat, and was eagerly looking forward to the battle.

Hogwarts was split along three lines.  Those for Gilderoy (mainly twittering girls), those that had been taught by him (who all seemed to detest him), and the rest of the school.

The Professors’ table had been moved back around twenty feet, to allow for a duelling platform to be raised a few feet in front of them. 

Wednesday and Harry walked in, and straight up to the platform.  There was no communication between the two as they stood ready.

Flitwick called for attention.  “Ladies and Gentlemen, welcome to the first official duel at Hogwarts for fifteen years.  This is a duel under the old rules.  The match continues until first blood, or a duellist is unable to continue.”

“All spells are permissible, with the exception of those that are Unforgivable.

“To my right, fighting for his honour, Professor Gilderoy Lockhart.”

Lockhart was dressing in perfect duelling robes.  His head was bare, allowing his long blonde locks to fall down his shoulders dramatically.  He waved to the crowd, and stood in a heroic pose.

“To my left, the challenger, Wednesday Addams.”

Before anyone could cheer, Harry turned and looked at the other students.  There were a few swallowed cheers.  Filius raised the shields that would protect the onlookers from stray spells, and stop anyone else interfering.  It left only the four of them inside.

Harry stepped back from the platform, not a single sign from him to Wednesday.  Not even a last second wish of luck.  The faith that showed was as remarkable as it was terrifying.

Gilderoy moved into a flowing bow, with a lot of hand waving and superfluous movements.  Wednesday rolled her eyes and simply nodded at him.

Lockhart moved into position, raising his wand like a sword between them.

“Errr, Miss Addams, you’ll need your wand,” Lockhart said.

Wednesday looked at him, and then at Flitwick.

“Three,” Flitwick started, “two, one.”

Lockhart moved his wand above his head.  “Expelliarmus!” he cried.  There was a dazzling flash of scarlet light that smacked straight into Wednesday.

Lockhart raised his arms in victory, and turned to the crowd.

“Err, Professor,” Flitwick called.  “The duel?”

Lockhart turned, and stumbled backward to see Wednesday standing where she had been before, not a hair out of place.  He gaped at her.

“Expelliarmus is used to disarm an opponent,” Wednesday said softly.  “I have no weapon, so the spell is nothing more than a mild stunner.  A two-year-old could ignore the effects.”

Lockhart flushed, and then cast a banishing curse at her.  Wednesday stepped to one side, showing all the care one might take when walking through the park.  The spell flew past her and smacked into the shield.

“Always anticipate where your opponent will be,” she lectured, her voice no louder.  “You’ve given me a fair chance now; perhaps you should just finish this.”

Lockhart puffed up his chest, and launched several curses at Wednesday, who almost seemed to glide as she moved from one spot to the next, each step appearing planned a thousand years before.

Lockhart didn’t wait this time, launching more curses, each one in a more desperate voice than the last.

Wednesday avoided them all with the same grace, then her wand appeared in her hand in a blink.  “Avis,” she whispered.

The birds appeared like they had been shot out of a canon, and before Lockhart could react, they hit him straight in the face.  One bird’s beak caught him, just a scratch, that instantly started to bleed.

“Defeated by a twelve-year-old girl with an Avis spell,” Wednesday said with a shake of her head.  Harry joined her on the podium.  “You really are a complete fraud.”  She turned her back on him in contempt.

It was Pugsley who started to laugh, closely followed by Hermione and most of the other students.

Lockhart’s face was mottled in rage, his good looks vanishing.  Snape knew he was about to do something.

“Diffindo!” Lockhart yelled, his wand pointed at Wednesday’s back.

Harry pushed Wednesday out of the way, and then crumpled to the ground.  The Great Hall went silent.  Wednesday knelt next to him, touching his back.  Her hand came up covered in blood.

“Pugsley,” she called, her voice like ice.  There was the sound of a thousand people gulping at once, as she turned towards Lockhart.  Her eyes, always so dark, dominated her face, they seemed impossibly large. Snape couldn’t take his eyes from her, as she marched toward Lockhart.

“S-s-stay away from me,” he yelled, launching more curses at her, most of them dark.

Wednesday batted them away without hesitation, when she was close, her lips moved, and a bludgeoning curse flew out of her wand, catching Lockhart in the left knee.  He screamed, dropping to the floor, and clutching at his destroyed knee.  Wednesday didn’t stop as she methodically blasted his right knee, then went on to destroy both his elbows.

Lockhart was screaming in absolute agony, while begging for mercy. 

“No one touches Harry but me,” Wednesday said softly, as she dipped her wand and cast one last blasting curse.  This one caught Lockhart in the crotch, and he screamed before passing out.

Snape blinked, and Wednesday was already back with Harry.  Pugsley had somehow got through the protective barrier, and was holding Harry’s head up so that he could see what was going on.

Filius seemed to shake himself, before he lowered the shields.  Poppy Pomfrey ran over to Harry to check him out.  She studiously ignored the unconscious Lockhart.

“In the back,” she mumbled, as she started to cast diagnostic charms on him.  “Such a coward’s way out, never would have expected it.  I guess he really was a fraud.”

Some of the children looked pale but a lot of them were nodding in agreement.

“Filius,” Professor Dumbledore called, “why didn’t you stop it?”

“Old rules, Albus,” Professor Flitwick said.  “He knew them, he broke them, and now he has paid the consequences.”

“We need to get Harry to the Infirmary,” Poppy said.

Without a word, Wednesday stood and raised her hand.  Harry lifted into the air.  She moved so that she was cradling his head – with a gentleness and caring that seemed out of place from her – before they vanished.

“They’re waiting,” Pugsley pointed out.

Poppy blinked and sprinted out of the hall.

Severus walked over to Lockhart and sighed.  He pulled out a healing potion from his pocket and forced it down Lockhart’s throat.

“So, how long have you been making up the stories in your books?” he asked.

“Oh, they’re true stories,” Lockhart replied dreamily as he woke up, and the pain relief kicked in.  “I stole them from other people and then Obliviated them so that no one would know.”

“I think it’s best you rest,” Snape said.  It was perhaps unfair of him to mix some Veritaserum with a healing potion, but then, he wasn’t known for being fair.

Snape stood and absently knocked Lockhart back into unconsciousness, before he levitated the fraud’s battered body and wandered toward the infirmary.

He was nice – he didn’t even let Lockhart’s head bounce against every single stair.  Just every other one.

---

That night, Snape finished his rounds and decided to see how Potter was doing.  The boy was awake and was reading, his wand propped up on the bedside table, like a lamp.

“Professor,” he said, closing the book and looking at him attentively.

“You don’t sleep, do you?”

“Two or three hours a night are all that is needed,” Harry agreed.  “Wends is getting a few more books for us.”

Snape pulled up a chair.

“Was that what you came to discuss?” Harry asked.

“You confuse me,” Snape said slowly.  “You claim Gomez Addams as your father.”

Harry nodded.

“But you keep the Potter name.”

“A necessary affectation,” Harry agreed.  “It’s so tiresome to fill in all the correct paperwork when you marry someone with the same name.  I’ll take the Addams name when we get married.”

Snape looked at him, and while he couldn’t believe he was about to do this, he had to.  “James and Lily were your parents, though.”

“Blood-wise, they were,” Harry agreed.  “And if they hadn’t died, I would have grown up a Potter, and would never have met Gomez, Morticia, Pugsley, and more importantly, Wednesday.”

“Your mother died for you.”

Harry turned his head slightly, and Snape got the impression that Potter was amused.  “Morticia is still alive.”

“Lily,” Snape said, rolling his eyes.

“How do you know that?” Harry asked, his eyes suddenly shining brightly.

Snape had the distinctly uncomfortable feeling that he had just lost control of this conversation.  “It was her protection that saved you.”

“How remarkable,” Harry replied.  “And from where did that idea originate?”

“Professor Dumbledore.”

“Ahh,” Harry said slowly.

Snape sighed.  He knew Potter wanted him to ask the next question, and he couldn’t help it.  “Do you know differently?”

Harry nodded.  Once.  Briefly.

“How?” Snape asked.

Harry smiled slowly.  “I asked her.”

“Asked who?”

“Lily Potter.”

Snape recoiled.

“Grandmama is quite skilled at Necromancy,” Harry whispered intently.  “She called forth their spirits when I was six.  We had a good chat.”

Harry shifted to one side, and a few seconds later, Wednesday walked around the corner and climbed into the bed next to him.  “Professor,” she greeted him.

“Wednesday,” he said back.

“It was an interesting conversation,” Harry continued.  “We talked about life and death, and what had happened that night.  It gave me a new perspective on a few things.  At the end of the conversation, James and Lily thanked Gomez and Morticia for what they were doing for me.”

“Grandmama calls them back quite a lot,” Wednesday added, as she opened the first book.

“Indeed,” Harry agreed.  “Useful people, really, but then, death has a habit of doing that to you.”

“How did you end up with Morticia and Gomez?” Snape asked.

“I think,” Harry said slowly, “that I will answer that when you have made your decision.”

“My decision?” Snape asked.

Harry slid an arm around Wednesday and pulled her a little closer.

“Ask me again when you have decided whom you follow, and if they are the right people.”

Snape nodded slowly as he stood and walked out.  He absently rubbed the symbol of his following, and wondered if he should tell Albus what he had learned.

He turned, and then paused.

It occurred to him that Harry’s warning had not just been about Voldemort, but about Dumbledore as well.

He returned to his room.  He had a lot to think about.

---

The papers were full of The Lockhart Scandal the next day.  A record number of Howlers arrived at Hogwarts aimed at him, and the Aurors turned up shortly afterward to arrest him.

He was taken to St Mungo’s and kept in protective custody.  It seems that no one liked a faker, even one with a charming smile.

The next night, Snape was back in Dumbledore’s office.

---

Snape sat in his normal position, next to Albus, restraining the urge to roll his eyes.  Molly Weasley was ranting and raving in front of him, demanding that her ‘darling child’ be removed from the evil Slytherins.  She was waving around a piece of parchment that she claimed her daughter had sent her.

Minerva, Filius and Pomona were sitting the other side of Albus, and were keeping out of the conversation.

“Why don’t we ask Ginny to come up here,” Albus eventually offered, as Molly took another deep breath, and was about to launch into her fourth diatribe.

Molly nodded sharply, and settled back down.  Albus clapped his hands, and asked a house-elf to fetch the girl.

A few minutes of silence that was probably uncomfortable for some in the room, there was a knock on the door.

“Come in, Ginny,” Albus called.

The door opened, not slowly as Severus was used to seeing, as students tried to delay the inevitable, but confidently.

And the reason for the confidence was soon revealed.  Ginny hadn’t come alone.  In that moment, Snape knew that the girl really was a Slytherin.  There was nothing wrong with having friends in high places, and using them as needed.

Harry walked in first, Ginny next to him.  He nodded to her to take the seat, and he stood behind her silently.

“Harry?” Albus asked.

“If we’re going to have a kangaroo court, then Miss Weasley at least deserves representation,” Harry replied smoothly, causing Albus to flush slightly.

Snape looked at Molly, who was staring at her daughter in horror.

“Well?” Harry prompted.  “You are interrupting our homework time.  If all you want to do is stare at her, then a photo will do the same job.”

Snape hid a smile.  Molly stormed to her feet, and opened her mouth.

“I do so hope that you’re not going to shout,” Harry said silkily.  “It accomplishes nothing, apart from irritating me.  And if that’s the case, we will leave.”

Molly’s face went bright red.

“Sit,” Harry ordered.  “Prepare your topics in a rational and intelligent manner.”

Molly slumped down on to the couch, and reached out for a cup of tea.  Her hands were shaking.

“Good,” Harry said.  “Now, you obviously have an issue to discuss, what is it?”

Molly looked completely nonplussed.  She was used to instant obedience and using her voice to get what she wanted.  With both of those being removed from her, she was left with just logic.

“Slytherins are evil.”

Sadly, her logic was somewhat lacking.

“As are Gryffindors, Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs,” Harry agreed.

Molly gaped at him.

“Why, you do know that one of your sons bullied another student so badly last year that she contemplated suicide?  And that your twins tried to prank half the school, but botched the potion, and if it had been used, it would have killed close to a hundred students?”

Severus carefully schooled his face.  He hadn’t been aware of that fact.

“Why,” Harry continued, his voice still low and cold, “you yourself harboured a known criminal and Death Eater for years.”

“What?” The question came from Albus, Molly, Minerva, Filius, and Pomona.

“How long do rats live?”

“Three years,” Severus replied.

“How long was ‘Scabbers’ a part of your family?”

“Eight or nine years,” Ginny answered softly, “all my life.”

“And not once did you think that was suspicious?” Harry asked.  “Not once did you think, ‘hmm, I wonder why this rat is living long past its death due date?’  Not once did you wonder, ‘Could it be an Animagus?’”

Albus jerked forward.

“A rat Animagus?” Harry asked, “surely not.  Not one of you have ever met a rat Animagus, have you?”

“Pettigrew’s dead,” Albus stated.

Harry looked up at him.  “He is,” he agreed.  He smiled suddenly.  “Now.”

“I don’t understand,” Molly said.

“No,” Harry agreed.  “Are we done here?”

“I’m afraid not, Harry,” Albus said slowly.  “What happened to Pettigrew?”

“I gave him to Wednesday.”

“I meant before that,” Albus said.

“You mean after Peter Pettigrew, secret Death Eater, framed Sirius Black?” Harry asked.

“Yes!”

“He went into hiding at the Weasleys’,” Harry said.

Snape had to stop himself from laughing.  Harry’s ability to say absolutely nothing was incredible.

“And?” Albus asked.

“And, I gave him to Wednesday,” Harry finished.

“What’s going on?” Molly asked plaintively.

“Harry, will you please give a detailed answer!”

“Is there any problem with Ginny being in Slytherin?”

“No,” Albus snapped.  “What happened with Pettigrew?”

Harry lightly touched Ginny on the shoulder.  “Go back to the common room.  Ask Hermione to give you the book Wednesday gave her.”

Ginny nodded and grinned at him.  She nodded to the rest of the room and scampered out.

Harry walked over to the table and helped himself to a cup of tea.  He sat in the chair she had vacated, folded his legs so that his right ankle was above his left knee, and both hands were in front of him, holding the cup.  If you ignored his size and his youthful looks, he was the picture book definition of an English man in complete and utter control of his situation.

It seemed that despite his American upbringing, there were some things that he had kept from his English heritage.

Harry took an unhurried sip of the tea.

Snape looked around the room.  Molly was still looking bewildered at the composed young man, and Albus seemed struggling not to lose his temper.  Minerva, Filius, and Pomona had fascinated looks on their faces as they watched this orchestrated drama.

“You do know that Pettigrew framed Sirius, as Pettigrew was James and Lily’s Secret Keeper, correct?”

“No!” Molly gasped.

Harry’s eyes were locked on to Dumbledore’s, as he waited for an answer.

“No,” Albus agreed.

Harry unfolded his legs.  He placed the teacup on the table, and nodded to Severus.  “I do not talk with liars,” he said, and walked toward the door.

“Wait,” Albus shouted.  “I was aware.”

“Albus,” Minerva said in horror; she was the first to react.

Albus sighed deeply.  “I was aware that Pettigrew was the Potters’ Secret Keeper.  I just had no proof at all.”

“No,” Harry agreed, as he re-took his seat. 

“After Pettigrew cut off his finger, he set off the blast and vanished down a sewer.  He went underground for a few months, eating trash, before he decided he’d wait for Voldemort to return.  In order to be comfortable, he decided to become someone’s pet, and the last place anyone would look was the Weasleys’.”

“Why didn’t you tell us?” Albus asked.

Harry tilted his head.  “Why should I?”

“So we could do something about it!”

Harry smiled faintly.  “And you’ve been so wonderfully successful to this point,” he agreed without a hint of sarcasm.

“We could have used Pettigrew to get Sirius Black out of jail,” Albus protested.

Harry sighed softly.  “Is there anything else?”

“This potion of the twins’?” Snape asked slowly.  “What was it?”

“They were doing a love potion, and added asphodel instead of powdered Ashwinder eggs.”

Snape recoiled in horror.  “Idiots,” he seethed. 

“Severus,” Filius asked, “what would that do?”

“It would send every one who ingested it mad with lust, and they would continue in that state until they died.”  He tried to keep a tight rein on his temper, but it wasn’t working.  “A hun…”

“No,” Harry interrupted, “they have learnt their lesson and they won’t do it again.”

Snape looked at Harry; the boy’s green eyes were cold and dark, and he shuddered.    “Agreed.”

Harry turned to Molly.  “Your childish views of good and evil need revision.  I believe that hypocrisy is one of the greatest evils.  Your daughter chose Slytherin for a variety of reasons, some of them based on fallacies.  Yet she made a choice because that was what she felt was the best for her.  Independent thought should always be encouraged, unless your goal is to end up following orders you do not believe in, because you have pledged to ignore your own intellect.

“Rather then sending childish shouting letters, you would have been better off asking just why your daughter dared to try something you have been mindlessly calling evil for most of her life.

“Ginny will be perfectly safe in Slytherin, more so than in Gryffindor.  At least in Slytherin, they don’t pretend to be something they are clearly not.”

He stood, nodded to the Professors and walked out, closing the door behind him.

Molly seemed to collapse into herself.

Snape smiled to himself.  He’d never seen so many stunned faces in one place before.

“Molly,” Albus started.

Molly looked up and stared at Albus.  Her eyes were different than how they had been before.  “He is going to defeat the Dark Lord when he gets a human form, isn’t he?”

“He is,” Snape replied.

“I’m sorry for taking up your time,” she said quietly.  “I’ll be leaving now.”  She stood and walked out of the office.

“Twenty points to Slytherin for Harry doing the impossible and introducing shades of grey into Molly Weasley’s life,” Snape said softly.

“Albus, if you knew about Pettigrew, why didn’t you push for Sirius to be given a trial?”

Albus sighed, and Snape smiled.  The headmaster was going to be in for a long night – it wasn’t going to be easy to get out of this one.

---

---

There hadn’t been much of a let-up before the next event occurred.  But this one had been different, if only for reminding people that Harry and Wednesday were still human, and as such, capable of erring.

As enlightening as it was, it had also given him a faint concern. He wasn’t quite sure what that concern actually was at the moment, but it was there, nagging at the edge of his consciousness.

• Previous
• Part 1 Part 2
• Next