Blood Magic

9 -- The Ring

"While Harry is at Hogwarts, he is obviously well protected. However, I no longer have any way to protect him beyond that." They were all seated in Dumbledore's office. Dumbledore looked grim. Harry reflected that he was almost accustomed to the previously merry headmaster looking weighed down with the cares of the world.

"I am also a blood relative," Snape said.

"But not of Lily. It is to her sacrifice that we need a binding."

Snape scowled. Dumbledore looked thoughtful. "You still..." he hesitated. "When Lily died, you were still much in love with her, were you not?"

For a moment, Snape looked as if he would deny it, but then he nodded jerkily.

"And you love her still?"

"She is dead, Dumbledore!"

"Nonetheless."

Snape growled softly. "Yes."

Dumbledore sat back, his eyes distant. His lips moved slightly.

"Have you a love token from her? Anything?"

Snape closed his eyes. An expression of terrible pain crossed his features. "Nothing," he whispered.

"Might she have had anything from you? I have charge of Harry's inheritance, which includes many little items that survived the attack."

That was news to Harry. He sat bolt upright and stared at the headmaster, who ignored him. Harry glanced over at Snape. Snape's eyes were still closed. Harry watched him bring his hands up to cover most of his face.

"A... ring. White gold, with a pentagon step-cut emerald. I ... I gave it to her as an engagement ring, she gave it back to me when I ... broke it off, and I gave it to her again, after ... after the Herem ritual. For the child, if ...." Snape's halting account ended entirely. His normally sallow face was dark with blood. A flash of pleasure on Dumbledore's face was quickly replaced by sympathy, although the Potion Master's eyes remained closed.

"If we have a chance at all, that will do it." Dumbledore stood up and came around the desk. "I would like to clarify some aspects of this."

Harry nodded automatically. He saw Snape, also, straighten and nod, his eyes opening and his hands returning to his lap, but the Potions master looked numb.

"The new wards will continue Harry's protection, but they will also have dangers for both of you. If Harry is ever captured, and Voldemort thinks to look --" (A contemptuous snort from Snape attested to both his opinion of Voldemort's intelligence and the return of his emotional control.) " --he could determine how the wards were constructed. That would put you, Severus, in danger. Similarly, if Voldemort discovers your relationship, he may be able to guess how the wards are constructed, and be able to use you to gain access to Harry. In this case, however, since the focus is a token that you intended for him, simply killing you will not work. That is the strength of a physical focus." Dumbledore looked intently at Harry. "The weakness of a physical focus, is that the focus is integral to the spell. You must wear or carry that ring at all times, is that clear?"

Harry hoped the ring wasn't too feminine. He supposed he could wear it on a chain, like Tobias had done with his Muggle girlfriend's ring, last year ... Thinking about it, Harry realized he had never worn any jewelry at all, and did not know how either a ring or a chain would feel.

"Harry?" Dumbledore prompted.

"Sorry, sir. Yes, that's clear."

Snape snorted. "Do you even know what he said?"

"That I must wear or carry the ring at all times." Harry shrugged. "I've never had any jewelry. I was just wondering how awkward it would be."

Dumbledore smiled. "It will become automatic, like your glasses, but not so uncomfortable to sleep in.

"I will find the ring, Severus, and I will inform both of you when the wards are cast." Dumbledore sat back down. "Now, perhaps we should discuss living arrangements."

"Please," Severus said. "He cannot stay in my rooms all August."

"On the contrary," Dumbledore said, with a reassuring smile at Harry, "that is just what I was going to suggest."

Harry restrained himself from protesting. Snape did not.

"Are you insane, Dumbledore? First, I don't have an extra room. Second, I have visitors who would be glad to take Harry home in pieces! Third, I like my privacy, and fourth, I hate the boy!"

Harry winced at the force of Snape's last yell, but looked over at him curiously. Snape hadn't seemed to hate him too much, an hour ago. The professor had his hands gripped tightly together, and was staring down at them, his face again darkening at the tops of his high cheekbones.

"And that is much of the reason," Dumbledore said gently. "You have always hated the boy for being James's son, but as we now know, he is not. Perhaps now that you can see beyond that, you will find he is not as objectionable as you have believed."

"I don't like people," Snape said sulkily.

Dumbledore ignored the childish comment. "Furthermore, your mutual dislike and distrust have been detrimental to the Order. Even if you cannot establish any familial affection, I would like you to at least attain an effective working relationship."

"I've no room --"

"There is an empty room adjacent to yours, Severus. I will move the entrance so it goes to your kitchen, rather than the hallway. We will hide that entrance from your side. Your visitors, I expect, are seldom in your kitchen?"

Harry blinked. "You have a kitchen?" he asked.

Snape sneered at him. "Had you a modicum of observational skill, Po- ... boy, you would have noticed the room. You looked in that direction several times."

"I was a bit preoccupied!"

"That is no excuse."

Harry stared. "I don't need to know what rooms you have!"

"You need to pay attention to what is around you! Do you think the Dark Lord will make allowances when you are having a bad day?"

"We're not talking about Voldemort, we're talk—"

"Do not say his name!" Snape roared, standing abruptly, and towering menacingly over Harry.

"Now, Severus," Dumbledore said mildly. "It is always best to give things their proper --"

"I say," Snape hissed icily, "that until the boy has succeeded in mastering Occlumency, he must not use the Dark Lord's name!"

Dumbledore considered this. Harry hoped he would not agree. He had always admired Dumbledore's insistence on referring to Voldemort by name.

"In Harry's case, you may have a point," Dumbledore conceded. Harry's heart sank. "Only until he learns, however. He is, on a very real level, Voldemort's peer, Severus. Voldemort has made him so, however inadvertently."

"May I call him Tom, then?" Harry asked. Dumbledore laughed. Snape made a harsh noise that was not recognizably either a laugh or a scream, and which degenerated into a fit of choking.

"Congratulations, Severus -- you have a cheeky teenager, without having to go through any of those awkward affectionate years," Dumbledore announced. He winked at Harry.

"Don't forget cynical," Harry added lightly. "And moody, and distrustful -- " He stopped suddenly. "I've been trying to work on that last one," he offered, feeling suddenly miserable.

"Have you?" Dumbledore questioned.

Harry shrugged slightly. "I figure I owe it to Sirius to at least act like I trust you."

"Trust me?" Snape asked, startled.

"No, trust Professor Dumbledore." Harry answered firmly. Snape looked at him as if he'd lost his mind. Dumbledore merely looked sad.

"And why do you not trust me, Harry?" he asked.

"I barely trust anybody," Harry answered flippantly. He caught himself. He should try, he decided, not to give way to either anger or guilt, but keep his response measured and informative. They needed to discuss this sometime, at less than a scream. "You, in particular are powerful and undependable," he continued evenly. "Sometimes you let me do what I need to, and other times you would rather protect me, even if it's not the right thing. Sometimes you act like I'm special to you, and sometimes you act like I don't exist. And it was clear, long before you said, that you had plans for me that I wasn't to know." He shrugged, and spread his palms out in gesture of surrender. "Still, there are times I clearly would have done better to tell you my secret plans, and I can't expect you to initiate all contact between us, then be angry when you don't." He met Dumbledore's eyes. "I should probably tell you when I'm angry at you. It might shock you into revealing something."

The last comment was purely spiteful. Harry had not intended to say it. He sat still, waiting to be reprimanded, but refusing to show fear. The sorrow on Dumbledore's face became deep and distant, and his eyes lost focus, as if he was looking at something deep within Harry.

"What's that look?" Harry prodded, trying to goad him back. "What do you see in me?"

"Many people."

"Both my fathers?"

"Among others."

"Tom?" Harry challenged.

Snape hissed, but Dumbledore nodded, very slightly.

"None of Tom's insincere charm, of course, but the largely undirected anger is the same." He peered over his glasses at Harry. "I hope you learn to dissipate some of that before finding something to focus it on."

Harry looked down, chastened. "Yes, sir."

"Which is not to say all of what I see in you is bad," Dumbledore continued. "You have a great deal of integrity, energy, and valor. I must remember that you do best when I work with that, rather than attempting to dampen it." He glanced over at Snape. "That is a lesson for you, as well."

"Why should it matter to me?" Snape asked unpleasantly.

"As the boy's father, you are his proper guardian, as far as I am concerned. We cannot make that legal, now, of course, but I will grant you the measure of control I gave Sirius, and I expect you, considering your geographic proximity, to be more of a day-to-day influence on Harry."

Harry and Snape eyed each other apprehensively. Harry thought Snape looked as distressed as he felt.

"Have you gone mad?" Snape hissed. Harry had to admit to a similar thought. "I am totally unsuited to the keeping of a pet rat, never mind a boy!"

"Severus, Harry is sixteen. He is largely self-sufficient."

"Just think," Harry contributed perversely. "You can't be worse than my last guardians."

"Can't I?" Snape threatened.

Harry refused to be intimidated. "You won't be," he said. "I have people to go to, here." He shrugged. "If you let me have food and decent clothes and don't force me to do dangerous things, you're one up on the Dursleys. I'm not expecting affection, or anything."

And that, he thought, was painfully true. The older he got, the more clearly he understood that, at some point in his life, he should have been able to expect that.

Snape nodded curtly. "Certainly, I can provide you with acceptable shelter and regular meals, as could anyone at Hogwarts. However, you are right not to expect any significant interaction. I can assure you that I have neither the capability nor the will to act either as a parent or as a companion."

Harry nodded acquiescence, and Snape, apparently satisfied, turned away.

In the privacy of his own mind, Severus admitted that it had been rather interesting to watch Harry and Dumbledore arrange Harry's room. They had walked into the dusty, unused chamber from the hallway, and Dumbledore had scoured it with a bracing wind. When the room was clean, he closed the door, and it had rippled like a swimming ray along the walls to the other side, and opened upon Severus's kitchen.

Next, the old wizard had asked Harry what sort of furniture he would like -- what colors, what types of wood. Severus had expected the boy to go with Gryffindor house colors, but, after a moment's thought, Harry had announced he would like furnishings in green, gold, and blue, with golden woods. Dumbledore had looked as surprised as Severus felt, but a moment later, the furnishings had started to materialize from other parts of the castle. A blue-canopied bed of yellow oak had appeared from a Ravenclaw dormitory, and was settled with a Slytherin-green comforter. Beside it had alighted a Turkish carpet whose green base bore designs in gold, navy, and darker green. A forest tapestry of Narcissus and Echo adorned one wall, and an ocean one of the failed rape of Bacchus, the other. The drowning pirates seemed delighted rather than terrified as they turned to dolphins at the young god's mercy, while Bacchus himself, one arm draped over a panther, smiled benevolently over the rail of the magnificent ship, an anachronistic four-master, which was starting to twine with laden grape vines.

Severus snorted to himself as he reached for the floo powder.

"You'll give the boy a complex, Albus," he muttered.

The dresser and tables in warm, light oak had arrived bearing green candles in gold candelabras, and a gilded green velvet chair had settled in the corner, beneath a gilt wall sconce. Cloth the brilliant blue of a fair autumn sky had draped itself about a magical window, which looked out on the grounds as you would see them from Gryffindor tower (though only the lighted windows of Hagrid's hut were visible now) and cushions of a matching blue padded the window seat. The view was the only bit of Gryffindor in the entire room. Harry had declared the ensemble brilliant. Severus had settled him with the promised meal of poached chicken, accompanied by a rosewater lassi, then headed out to the living room and his fireplace.

Severus exited a far grander fireplace in Avery's entrance hall. A house-elf bobbed nervously in front of him.

"Mr. Snape, sir! The master is not expecting you."

"More fool him," Severus snarled. The house elf wrung its hands. "Well?" Snape stormed. "Correct this problem before I give you some help!"" He drew a booted foot threateningly back, as if preparing for a good kick, and the house elf, with a squeal of fear, disapparated to inform his master of the guest.

"Aristocrats' folly," Snape muttered angrily, as he strode across the dark marble floor. "Strand the bloody lot of us in well-stocked London flats for a month, and Pettigrew, Luther, and I would be the only survivors."

He had to admit, he enjoyed not needing to cook, clean, or forage, or to mend cloth, wood, or metal, but he felt it was important not to forget how to do these things. Dependency was never good.

And someday,

he thought, forcing himself to not even whisper the words, even nameless, I will give you a knife and make you get your own damn dinner, whether you come back with rabbit or with mushrooms and berries. And you will be proud as a cat of all you bring home.

Severus did not know where Avery was, so he headed for the study. He found himself regretting the loss of Lucius to Azkaban. Their painful intimacy had been useful. In the study, he sat and waited, his thoughts suddenly on Draco. Would the boy be improved by the separation from his Machiavellian father, or would his mind-blurring rage have continued through the summer?

A house-elf came and offered him brandy. Severus accepted, then, once the creature had left, reluctantly transmuted the drink to have little more alcohol than butterbeer. That Avery wanted him provided with drink while he waited might indicated merely proper hospitality, or it might have a deeper purpose.

"Severus," a voice said heartily, as Avery finally entered, a refill later.

"Don't be cozy, Avery," Severus replied. "I want to know what's going on."

"Going on?"

"Potter's house was attacked, this evening, haven't you heard?" Snape stood, stepping close to Avery to make his several inches advantage in height clear. "I am supposed to be informed of any attack that may cause me to be summoned by Dumbledore!"

Avery dropped his welcoming manner. "Perhaps our Lord has changed the rules, Snape. He made it clear, last night, that he did not trust you."

"I am at Hogwarts! I was fetched away to some Muggle warren of identical homes to search for the child ...."

"Perhaps it is time that you stopped trying to serve two masters, then."

Snape felt as if he had been hit in the gut. He tried to keep his panic from showing.

"Dumbledore is all that kept me from Azkaban."

"An unworthy goal, in our master's eyes."

"Had I gone, I would not now be sane to serve him."

"Ah," Avery's voice took on a sly tone, "but do you, Severus?"

Severus whipped out his wand. "Crucio!"

He kept the man writhing under the curse for a good two minutes, then ended it. He walked towards Avery, who was still on the ground and still twitching with residual flickers of agony.

"Our master," Severus said softly, his voice lingering on the word, "may say to me what he wills. Do not presume to take the same liberty, slave of servants." With that reminder of Avery's subservience to those Severus considered his peers, Severus turned and left as he had come. As his own fireplace was blocked to incoming visitors, he flooed to the secure room next to Albus's office. After a few minutes, the door opened, though only Fawkes was present to greet him. Severus returned to the dungeons.