Intersections in Real Time

Harry spent the next several days wandering through Hogwarts. Snape had shrunk some of his own clothes for Harry to wear until they could buy some "proper robes," as he had referred to them. Except for that brief conversation about clothing, Snape largely ignored him, and Harry ended up talking more with Dumbledore than he did with his own father. He was alone most of the time unless he wanted to join Hagrid outside.

Exploring the castle had grown mundane after the first few days, though he had found some interesting secret passages. Lately, he had taken to looking for comfortable places where he could read about this strange world which he was now part of.

Nearly a week after his installment at Hogwarts, he dressed in a black jumper, trousers and robe (he thought he looked as if he were going to a funeral, but Snape had provided him with no other colour), grabbed one of the books he had borrowed, and headed up to the Great Hall for breakfast.

Breakfast with Dumbledore was always interesting to say the least. Two days before, he had regaled Harry with a rousing (and Harry suspected, completely fictional) account of Uric the Oddball's life. The day after that, he had sung an entire opera, encouraging both Harry and Snape to join in at the good parts. It had taken all Harry's self-control not to burst out laughing at the scowl on his father's face. He was looking forward to the Headmaster's choice of conversation this morning.

Dumbledore was there when he approached the table. Harry was used to waking up early at the Dursleys', but no matter how early he awoke, Dumbledore always arrived at the table before him. Snape on the other hand was almost always late - something for which the Headmaster teased him mercilessly.

"Long night, Severus?" asked Dumbledore solicitously when the wizard appeared. "Did you sleep well?"

Snape snarled rather incoherently at him and stalked over to his seat. Harry kept silent. The last time he had wished his father good morning, he had nearly had his head snapped off. Snape was definitely not a morning person. Dumbledore didn't seem to be put off though.

"It's a beautiful day, isn't it?" he said, glancing up at the enchanted ceiling.

Harry followed his gaze and saw the clouds rushing at a fantastic speed across a light blue sky. Maybe this would be a good day to join Hagrid outside. Dumbledore glanced at him, then past him at his father. "It's a special day don't you think, Harry?"

Harry was confused. Special? Just what was Dumbledore going on about?

Snape gave Dumbledore a look that Harry couldn't interpret. Dumbledore smiled broadly at Snape, then turned his gaze on Harry.

"I think this is the perfect day for you to get your supplies, Harry, and I know that Professor Snape has been eagerly awaiting your acquisition of a wand," said Dumbledore.

Harry looked over at his father. His usual sneer was in place. It was hard for Harry to see the enthusiasm Dumbledore was talking about. Nevertheless, Harry wasn't about to turn down a chance to get out of the castle.

"Where will we be going?" he asked.

"Diagon Alley," said Dumbledore lightly. "Hagrid is picking up something for me from Gringotts' and will be travelling with you."

"If Hagrid is going than I don't see why-" began Snape beside him.

Harry felt himself stiffen.

"Severus," said Dumbledore, his tone no longer jovial. "Hagrid is running an errand for me, and you mentioned that you had some potions ingredients you wanted to pick up."

"And you think that some people won't find it odd to see me shepherding the Boy-Who-Lived around Diagon Alley?" Snape asked.

Harry could see that his father's eyes smouldering with anger. He shrunk deeper into his seat and wished that the argument were over.

"It's okay," he said in the moment of silence, even though he knew it wasn't. "I'll go with Hagrid, and we'll even pick up your potions ingredients for you, Mr. Snape." Both of them were looking at him now, but Harry refused to return either of their gazes. Finally, Snape made a sound of disgust.

"I'll be damned if I let you fetch those ingredients by yourself," he said vehemently.

"Hagrid has a Portkey I gave him, though you'll be using the Floo network to get back," said Dumbledore, as if there had never been any objections. "You might want to consider having dinner at the Leaky Cauldron. You'll need your letter, Harry."

Harry ran down to his room to get the letter, and, at his father's suggestion, to put on a heavier robe. It was only when he was staring at the address on the letter's envelope that he realised what Dumbledore had meant about it being a special day.

Today was his eleventh birthday.

*****

Harry didn't stumble from using the Portkey this time. Instead, he blinked and looked around the small courtyard where the three of them had appeared. The buildings on either side of them looked as if they had been there for centuries, but Harry doubted that any buildings in the sixteenth century had had "Designated Portkey Destination: No Lingering" signs decorating their sides.

Hagrid stuffed the hot water bottle that had served as their Portkey into one of his many pockets.

"Come on," said Snape impatiently.

Hagrid grunted and stuffed the hot water bottle that had served as their Portkey into one of his many pockets before heading for the open side of the courtyard, where Harry could see crowds of people in robes passing by. He stood there for a moment longer, frowning in thought. Dumbledore had remembered his birthday, but did his father? Snape hadn't reacted when the Headmaster had dropped his hint. He hadn't even wanted to come.

Hagrid turned around, and called to him in a deep voice. "Are yeh coming, Harry?"

He nodded and followed them out into the noisy crowd, trying not to gape at all the fascinating things going on around him. A wizard nearby was blowing triangular smoke rings while complaining in a deep voice about the price of adder stone going up, and Harry narrowly avoided being trampled on by a veritable horde of young wizards and witches being watched over by a frazzled looking witch. He kept close to Hagrid and Snape after that. It would have been slow going due to the crowd, but somehow people kept moving out of the way once they got a glimpse of Hagrid's bulk and the look in Snape's eyes.

He couldn't stop staring at all the things around him, and was therefore surprised when they arrived at a tall white marble building that had a very official look about it. There was a strange creature in a uniform standing guard outside. Harry tentatively identified it as a goblin.

Snape stopped at the foot of the marble steps and turned to shout at Hagrid over the noise of the crowds. Harry could just barely hear what was being said.

"I need to get some ingredients in Knockturn Alley." Snape gestured towards an opening across from them that showed a partial view of a darker and less crowded alley. "Why don't you take him to get his money? Here's the key. Don't lose it in that coat of yours. I'll meet you outside."

He didn't wait for Hagrid's answer, but handed him the key, then cut across the crowd in the direction of the darkened alleyway. Harry watched him go, trying to tell himself it didn't matter that Snape had abandoned him at the first chance. "He really doesn't remember," he muttered. Hagrid looked down at him, and he realized that he had been speaking too loud.

"I didn't know yeh cared what Professor Snape thought of yeh," said the groundskeeper, pulling him further up the steps where it was quieter. Harry wished he didn't care, but he didn't want to talk about it.

"Did you know it's my birthday today, Hagrid?"

"'Course I know," the giant said. "Was going teh surprise yeh with a cake and a present when we got back." Hagrid seemed to realize what he had just said. "Shouldn'ta said that," he muttered.

Harry smiled at him. "It's okay, Hagrid. I'll act surprised."

The giant returned his smile, then turned and pushed open the heavy bronze doors. They passed through a second set of silver doors covered in writing that Harry didn't have time to read and entered something that resembled an old-fashioned bank - if a bank were run by strange, deformed creatures who sorted wheelbarrows full of rubies and gold instead of money.

"They must have a lot of trouble with thieves," said Harry.

Hagrid snorted in disbelief.

"Not with goblins running it. Yeh never want to cross a goblin." Hagrid ignored the pair of goblins that bowed to them when they entered and headed towards one of the counters. There, he proudly explained that he was here to collect Harry's money and carry out a special mission for Dumbledore. Harry was curious as to what the special mission was, but Hagrid refused to tell him. The goblin behind the counter handed Harry's key to another, darker-skinned goblin, and told Harry to follow him. Hagrid made to come as well.

"I'm sorry, sir," said the first goblin. "Only authorized members of the bank or Mr. Potter's family are allowed to view the contents of his vault. I'll have Griphook take you to vault seven hundred and thirteen. Griphook!"

"But he hasn't got any relatives!" said Hagrid angrily. He paused. "Well, none that aren't Muggles." The goblin pursed its lips.

"These are the rules of the bank, Mr. Hagrid. If you'd care to question them, I can get my manager-" He reached for a large switch on the side of the counter.

"Yeh don' have ter do that," said Hagrid hastily. He turned to Harry, and handed him a sack from one of his pockets. "Make sure yeh get a good supply o' the Galleons." He saw the look of confusion on Harry's face. "The gold ones. 'Bout thirty should do it. An' throw in some Sickles an' Knuts as well. The silver an' bronze ones. Yeh'll want spending money."

Griphook was gesturing for Harry impatiently. He had to go. But he felt uneasy as he watched Hagrid being led off. These goblins didn't really seem safe.

"If you'll come with me, sir," said the dark-skinned goblin at his side. Harry followed him through one of the many doors lining the sides of the hall.

"What's your name?" asked Harry for lack of something better to say. It was much darker in this passageway and there was a set of railroad tracks on the floor. The goblin whistled before answering him.

"Snagwell," it said. Harry watched in amazement as a cart came hurtling up the tracks to stop in front of them. They both got into the cart, which immediately began flying down the track, dipping so quickly that he had to grab its sides.

He wondered if this was what it was like to be on the rollercoasters he had once seen from afar when the Dursleys went to the shore. They had locked Harry in their hotel room for the holiday, but he had been able to open the window and see the shore with all its amusements.

"How does the cart know where it's going?" he asked Snagwell. The goblin was reading a letter while it slouched against one of the cart's sides.

"It's tuned to the key," said Snagwell, not even looking up from his letter.

Harry let him be after that and occupied himself with trying to count the number of tunnels they passed. He gave up after he reached one hundred. Eventually, the cart went down one more steep incline and into a sharp turn before stopping gently in front of a large vault door.

They got out. Snagwell unlocked the door and some strange smoke billowed forth. After it cleared, Harry found himself staring at piles of money. Scattered throughout the gold, silver and bronze were forbidding-looking chests and odd artefacts that Harry wanted to scoop up and examine. His attention was drawn, however, to a gold filigreed plate on the opposite wall. It read:

Snape Family Vault

~ 377 AD ~

Now Harry knew why Hagrid hadn't been allowed to come with him. He busied himself with pushing some Galleons, Knuts and Sickles into his sack until he thought he had enough. Snagwell folded up his letter and took the sack from him. The vault was sealed again, and they were on their way.

The cart seemed to be taking them a different way this time. Harry was enthralled as they passed a beautiful underground lake and leant out of the cart in an attempt to keep it in sight as the track led them into a deep, echoing cavern.

Suddenly, there was a large crash, and he was launched into the air. Panicking, he flung his hands out in the hopes of catching something to hold on to. His hand grasped the edge of the cart, and he winced as his wrist was wrenched painfully. Someone gave a muffled shout above him, but Harry was more concerned with the dark abyss that extended below his dangling legs.

He reached up and grabbed the cart with his other hand, attempting to pull himself to safety.

"Snagwell!" he yelled. A hand reached out and clasped his injured wrist, and for a second Harry thought he was being rescued. Then he screamed. His forehead felt like it was on fire, and the hand was not helping him up, but attempting to push him off the cart. Smoke rose from around his wrist. Another scream joined his. What was happening? The pain from his scar was becoming overwhelming.

He could hear a large crash, and a shout that echoed throughout the cavern. Harry let go of the cart with his injured hand, but managed to hang on to the edge with his other hand. There was a flash of colour above him, and more shouting. This time he could make out some of the words.

"Don' let him get away!" bellowed a familiar deep voice.

"Hagrid!" he called, knowing he couldn't hold on much longer. There was a long pause, and a strange rushing noise. Then Hagrid's face appeared above the edge of the cart. He caught Harry's arm, pulled him up with hardly a pause and looked him over with concern.

"Yeh alright, Harry?" he asked. Harry opened his mouth to tell him about his wrist and his scar, but stopped when he saw Snagwell. The goblin was lying limply in the corner of the cart, his limbs twisted at an odd angle. The letter he had been reading hung out of one of his pockets. A growing stain was spreading across the paper.

Harry could not fight the feeling of horror that came over him. He pressed his hand to his scar.

"What happened, Hagrid?" he asked softly, unable to tear his eyes away from Snagwell.

It was Griphook who answered. He was standing in another cart that was pushed up against the back of Harry's. There was no sign of the cart that had crashed into them before.

"A thief," said the goblin in a disgusted voice. "He will be caught and punished." The goblin sounded positively gleeful about this prospect.

"His cart ran into yours. Yeh were lucky we were coming back this way," said Hagrid. "Coward wouldn't stay an' fight. He took the cart an'escaped." The giant moved to block his view of Snagwell.

Harry shuddered and looked up at Hagrid. "And Snagwell?"

"Executed his duty according to Gringotts' charter," said Griphook.

Hagrid shook his head sadly.

"Come on Harry," he said. "Let's get yeh up into the sun again."

*****

Harry hurried down the steps, anxious to get away from the uproar that was taking place inside Gringotts. He could still hear Hagrid bellowing through the main doors. The goblins had wanted him to stay for questioning, but Hagrid had insisted that he leave and find Professor Snape.

Harry craned his neck above the crowds, looking for his father's distinctive black robes and hair. Unfortunately for him, there seemed to be a large number of people in black robes. None were the person he was looking for, though he did see someone who could have been Snape's double if he were only three feet taller...

"What happened?" said a voice near him.

He jumped.

Snape was standing beside him looking very annoyed.

"What?" asked Harry. His mind had not actually registered what his father had said.

Snape gestured impatiently at the bank. "Gringotts is in an uproar, and you're cradling your wrist."

Harry followed Snape's gaze to his hands and saw that he had been unconsciously holding his injured wrist. He forced himself to move his hands so that they hung at his sides, though he had to bite his lip against the pain. His pain was almost forgotten though, when he looked at his father's face. Was that worry he saw?

Snape picked up Harry's forgotten sack of Galleons and shrunk it to a more manageable size.

"You can tell me about this while I treat your wrist. Follow me," said Snape. He strode off at such a speed that Harry had to run to keep up, despite the crowds.

They entered a small shop sandwiched between two larger ones. It had a sign saying Ingrédients Irrégulière- Anything on Request.

Harry gazed in wonder and a bit of disgust at the sheer number of strangely shaped jars and casks lining the walls. They were filled with some very odd looking things. Strange herbs and shrivelled objects that looked like dried liver hung from the ceiling. A white-haired old witch sat behind a counter writing in some type of ledger with a huge blue quill. As they entered, she looked up and frowned at his father.

"I haven't got those dragon tears you wanted, Severus, so there's no use coming in here to badger me." Her look had become very stern.

"I need the use of your back room for a moment, Eliza, and a Healing Potion if you have any in stock. If not, some chamomile and scabious will do," said Snape, ignoring her disapproval. Her look changed to surprise at his request.

"Who's injured?" she asked.

"Mr. Potter got himself in some trouble. The room, Eliza, or I'll go elsewhere," he said impatiently.

Eliza's eyes went immediately to Harry's forehead when she heard his name. Harry felt very self-conscious under her gaze.

"Eliza!" barked Snape.

"All right. All right. No need to be snappish about it." She bustled into the back room.

"She makes that pun every time I come here," complained Snape in a sour voice.

"That's because I love seeing that tortured look on your face, dear," she called from the back room.

Snape just scowled. The old witch came out of the room again and winked at Harry.

"The room's all yours. I left some Healing Potion on the counter," she said.

Snape nodded curtly to her, and swept past her into the room with Harry following.

The back room was full of even more potion ingredients. Along one wall was a counter with ingredients in differing states of preparation.

"Sit down," ordered Snape, closing the door behind him and locking it with his wand. Harry took a seat on the only stool in the room. He felt tired all of a sudden.

"Now tell me everything that happened," demanded his father after muttering another spell around the door.

Harry took a deep breath and told him everything in one big rush. The family vault, his scar, Snagwell just lying there...He was surprised to find himself blinking away tears by the end. He told himself that it hadn't been that bad, and he really should stop, but his eyes wouldn't listen. Angrily, he wiped away an escaping tear and stared at the dirty floor.

Snape was strangely quiet. Was he angry?

There was a tentative touch on his arm, and Harry kept his eyes on the floor as his injured wrist was pulled away from his body to be held in surprisingly gentle hands. There was the smell of herbs, and a soothing feeling as the Healing Potion was skilfully applied to his wrist.

"Head up," said Snape. Harry slowly raised his head and looked at his father. Snape regarded him with a neutral expression, then dabbed some of the potion on a cloth in his hand. One hand came up to tilt Harry's face towards him. He used the cloth to trace the outline of Harry's scar. It tingled, but Harry remained very still. Snape reversed the cloth then, and ran it lightly under Harry's eyes, catching the last of his tears. The smell of the herbs was nearly overwhelming.

Snape took a step back to observe his handiwork.

"Do you feel better now?" he asked in what almost sounded like concern. Harry nodded slowly. He did feel better.

"Father?" he asked, as Snape turned away to place the potion and cloth back on the counter. "Why did my scar hurt like that?"

Snape looked grim as he turned away from the counter.

"I have a few ideas, but I need to talk to Dumbledore before I confirm them."

"Was it Voldemort?" Harry asked. Snape ignored the question.

"We need to find Hagrid. Move your wrist for me," he said. Harry obliged. His wrist didn't even twinge.

Snape nodded to himself and unlocked the door. Eliza stood outside of it, not even trying to hide the fact that she had been listening.

"Hear anything interesting?" asked Snape, his voice tight with anger.

"You know that door is too thick to hear anything through Severus," she said in a tone that made Harry picture old Mrs. Figg, his former babysitter.

Snape snorted.

"More like my charm against eavesdropping was too strong for you to break through. Really, Eliza, I expected better of you," he said, though he didn't sound like he had expected anything less.

Eliza shrugged, and dropped her poor elderly witch act.

"Can't blame an old Slytherin for trying, Severus. Have a good time with Mr. Potter." She turned to Harry, and spoke in a confidential tone that nonetheless carried throughout the tiny room. "If you ever need any blackmail on him, dear, you just let me know." She winked at him then, and Harry was left wondering if she was serious.

Snape glared at her, then held the door open for Harry to go through.