Comes a Slytherin

8. Courage

Two days later, Harry found himself browsing the shops in Diagon Alley. He and Adam had ventured here on a mini-holiday afforded to them by the Ministry, who had ordered all government offices and schools closed in celebration of Voldemort's defeat. Harry needed some supplies, and Ron's birthday was coming up and nothing in Hogsmeade appealed to them.

Methos had got hold of a Portkey and permission for Harry to leave the grounds for twenty-four hours from the Ministry; in Fudge's eyes; Methos could do no wrong, and he had been more then happy to grant the request.

They had split up about an hour ago; Methos professed a desire to spend some time in the obscure bookshop. Harry had no mind to spend thirty minutes just trying to find the crack in the wall that lead to it, so they agreed to meet up at Florean Fortescue's ice cream parlor in two hours time, only after Methos was assured that Harry had both his sword and his wand upon him.

Suddenly, as Harry browsed Quality Quidditch Supplies he felt the buzz of an Immortal. He hesitantly turned around and stared a middle-aged man, one who looked maybe forty or so equally searching the room for the mystery Immortal. His eyes lit up in desire. Harry swallowed. The Boy Who Lived's head would be quite a trophy.

"My name is Kyser Grant. You must be Harry Potter. Tsk. Living as a celebrity must be so difficult for you." He leaned over, "But at least you won't have to worry about that too much longer."

Harry's eyes flared, and with a trembling hand, reached for the sword still hanging invisible under his robes. Trying for a brave voice, he said, "Let's take this somewhere private, shall we?"

"Of course. Follow me."

The two Immortals walked to the end of Diagon Alley, down a passage that Harry had not seen before in his seven years; it was small enough and the shadows fell against it in such a way that if you weren't looking for it, it would be all to easy to miss. He suspected that's why he was being lead here.

They walked down to the end of the alley, where it opened into a fairly large dead end with plenty of room to maneuver. The scorched crates that littered the area made Harry suspect that this would not be the first duel fought here.

As soon as Kyser went for his sword, Harry withdrew his own, making sure to run his thumb down the snake making it reappear. The other immortal didn't even blink an eye.

The two men began to circle around each other, waiting for their opponent to make the first move. Harry was fairly confident in his sword work, but that had always been against Methos or Duncan—outstanding fighters in their own right, but still safe because it had always been for practice. This was for real.

Kyser finally lunged and the battle was joined. Harry quickly realized that while he was good, that the other Immortal was better. Harry managed to slice his leg, but not until after he got cut in the arm. Wincing with pain and feeling the blood drip down his arm, Harry had to think fast as he got knocked onto his back. As the other immortal drew his sword above his hand, Harry lunged quickly and managed to skewer the man through the stomach. Withdrawing it, the Immortal doubled over in pain and fell to his knees, cough up blood and mumbling obscenities. Harry rose to his feet and kicked the other sword far out of the other man's reach. He swung his own sword above his head and brought it quickly and solidly down until he felt the blade hit the stones of the road.

Blearily, he realized that he'd done, that he'd killed the other man when the Quickening started around him. Blue lighting tickled his skin, touching him, tasting him and approving of him before the storm hit him full force. Snapshots of faces, wisps of memories, the screams of vanquished foes filled him all at one, send his senses into overload, his body screaming in pain with as the false lightening hit him again and again. It seemed as if it would go one forever, but then as abruptly as it began, it stopped.

Silence.

He felt like the Basilisk had poisoned him again, he was so weak, but he made himself stand. Blearily, he remembered Methos' instructions for how to deal with the corpse, and made his way to the ice cream shop. Shopping would have to wait.

* * *
A month later and spring had finally come into full bloom. The snow had long since melted away, leaving a crisp morning with clear skies and green grass. The perfect day to fly.

Well, the perfect day to fly if you were Harry Potter. Methos and Duncan, however, were not so lucky and clung to their brooms for dear life less then two meters off the ground.

"Remind me why I'm doing this again, Harry?" Methos shouted up to his friend who was literally flying circles a half-meter above them.

"Because it's fun, Methos! You do remember that don't you? It's carefree and quite a rush."

Duncan was suddenly hanging perilously at a forty-five degree angle trying to right himself. "Gah! Help!" Were his last words before his broom bucked him off and send him to the ground. "Ouch."

Snape, who had been persuaded to join them—in Muggle clothing no less, offered Duncan a hand. Snickering he asked, "Are you all right?"

"I just fell on my arse and made myself look like an idiot in front of Harry. Of course I'm all right."

"Don't worry. I won't tell." He sighed. "Such a shame I didn't borrow a camera for this expedition."

Harry snickered, swooped down and got the wayward broom under control, before tossing it back to Duncan. "Brooms are like horses. They can't exactly smell your fear, but they know if they can take advantage of you, and they will."

Methos, meanwhile just finished giving his broom a rather stern talking to and was now floating peacefully along the pasture, at least until Harry came and dove under him, sending the elder man's broomstick into a tailspin. Hanging on for dear life, Methos rode it out, then raised his fist and yelled, "Hey! This is a no harassment zone!"

Harry grinned and attempted an apology as he said, "Um, Sorry?" The fit of laughter rather ruined it though.

Before Methos could retort with a rude reply, a man and a large dog came walking their way.

"Remus! Snuffles!"

Harry quickly sailed to the ground and hopped off his broom running over to hug his friend.

"What are they doing here?" Snape snarled.

"Harry invited us here, Severus." Remus calmly replied.

Harry stepped between the two men. "Look. There's a great chance that the three of you will be in somewhat close contact for the next several years, can we drop the murderous rage? If I can be civil with Malfoy, then you two can certainly not bite off each other's heads."

Snape snorted. "When was the last time you were civil with Malfoy?"

"Potions, last Thursday when you partnered us up. If you'll remember we actually made the potion correctly with out loss of life, limbs, or excess potion ingredients."

Snape grinned wickedly, "Now tell me the last time you were civil to him outside of class."

Harry paused, and a few birds chirped. "Um."

"Ha!"

"Hrmph."

Remus interrupted this amusing, yet petty argument by saying, "Seriously though, if we're going to make a decision about whether or not to come to America with Harry we've got a right to know what we're getting ourselves into."

"Fair enough."

Methos tentatively came in for a landing, and managed to do a successful job of it. "Why don't we all sit down, have a drink and discuss it, shall we?"

There were nods of assent, and everyone settled down on a nearby picnic table. Sirius remained as Snuffles, just in case someone did happen to stumble across this little park outside of Hogsmeade.

"So you are going back with them then for certain, Harry?" asked Snape.

Harry nodded. "It seems the right thing to do. And it'll be nice to get away from it all." Although Harry hadn't even been near Voldemort when he died, because of name, and the fact that Adam was his teacher, he was still a celebrity in his own right. He was now able to go to Hogsmeade with relatively little accosting from the townspeople, but not having to deal with any of it seemed even more appealing. "And safer, for that matter," he added.

Remus looked at him confused. Harry still hadn't told him or his godfather about his Immortality.

He looked at Methos for guidance as to what to do. Methos nodded. If Sirius and Remus were going to be a more consistent part of his life, they would figure out something was wrong sooner or later.

Harry took a deep breath. "You see…I'm an Immortal. It means I can live so long as I can keep my head on my shoulders…sounds easy in theory, but in reality there's this thing called the Game, and in order to win the Prize you have to be the last Immortal standing." He took a deep breath. "So, in order to do that, you have to take the heads of other Immortals. Since I'm also the Boy Who Lived, it makes me a rather tempting target for Wizard Immortals…" He spent the next few minutes reciting his encounter in Diagon Alley to a rather shocked looking Remus. Harry could tell that Sirius was dying to transform, and just barely holding on to his canine form.

Remus said nothing. "He's serious, isn't he?"

Three heads nodded. "Who would make up a story like that if you didn't have to?" added Duncan.

The werewolf hugged Harry. "You were okay, then?"

Harry nodded. "Yeah. Shocked a bit by the Quickening—that's what happens when you take another's head. It was just so much at once. It was so overwhelming and draining. It's not something I really want to do again any time soon."

"And you think moving out of the country will help?"

"Yeah. At least this way if someone is hunting for me, it'll likely be because I'm an Immortal, and not the Boy Who Lived. If word ever got out here…"

"You'd be a hunted man," finished Remus.

Harry nodded.

Remus looked at Snuffles sympathetically. "I understand why you wouldn't want that." He rubbed Snuffles’ head. "Would he,” Remus nodded towards the large dog, “be safe there, Adam?"

Methos nodded. "The American Ministry and the British Ministry don't get along very well, I’m afraid. Fudge wanted help from the American Aurors, and they didn't want to commit their resources to something that wasn't a problem for them. Even if the Ministry here figured out that Sirius was gone, I doubt that the Americans would put forth that much of an effort to find him.

Remus nodded. "What about paperwork? I don't know about the rest of you, but I know that I'm not a citizen there."

Methos grinned. "You don't live to be as old as I and not know the ways to get a new identity. I'm going to head for London in a week or two and get all of that sorted out, so I'll need to know soon whether or not you're coming."

"Was there anything else to ask, Snuffles?"

Snuffles shook his head.

"I'll let you know in a few days, Sirius and I need to talk about it a little more first."

"Of course," replied Methos. "Let me know by the end of next week if you could."
Remus nodded.

Harry turned to Snape. "Will you be coming with us?" Although he'd been asleep during the initial conversation, Adam had filled him in on it later.

Snape rolled back his sleeve to reveal the Watcher tattoo. "I didn't get this for kicks, Mr. Potter." He looked at Methos, "All things considered, I decided that a change would be good. I'm to talk to Dumbledore about my resignation tomorrow."

Remus looked surprised and Snuffles growled. "He'll be there?"

"I'm the boy's watcher," Snape replied simply. "It's my job to keep an eye on him, and to stand there and let him make idiotic decisions, and write down what happens afterward."

Snuffles growled more and Remus pulled on the leash. "Calm down, Sirius. Now!" Reluctantly, the dog sat, his eyes never leaving Snape's.

"So your job is to spy on Harry?" asked Remus. "Why?"

Methos answered for Snape. "Their job is to 'watch and record, but never interfere.' It's for posterity. The Watchers have a complete history of the Immortals…the amount of influence we have on the world is truly an amazing thing. Granted, some aren't so good at the 'never interfere' thing, but no one's telling."

"We?" asked Remus.

"You've not figured it out yet, Remus? Adam and Duncan are Immortals as well. That's why they took up a spot at Hogwarts. To train me."

"And since you are still here, I'll assume that they're doing a good job."

Methos and Duncan shared a smile and nodded. "Thank you," replied Duncan. "We do what we can."

Remus squinted up towards the sun. "We'd better get going. I've got to check the shop, and undoubtedly Harry's got to get back to Hogwarts soon."

"Yeah. Probably should. I don't need to give McGonagall a reason to give me detention."

"I could still give you detention for being out after you were supposed to have returned, Mr. Potter."

"Prat."

"Detention tonight for language. I swear, Potter, your relatives should have washed your mouth out with soap."

Methos looked at Remus. "You'd better go. This could go on all afternoon. It's rather cute, really."

Remus raised an eyebrow. "Nothing new then?"

Duncan snorted. "Not hardly. The only difference is the level of malice decreases each time."

They listened as both Snape and Harry ran through the standard book of insults, and onto more creative ones involving Hippogriffs and Devil's Snare.

"How interesting." He covered Snuffles' ears. "You'll warn me if they anything starts to happen between them before terms end? It'll be hard enough for me to swallow, let alone trying to find a good time to explain to Sirius."

Methos nodded. "Of course. I'd be bad form to have one of them die at the hands of Sirius in a terminal at Heathrow airport."

Remus stood, grinned and offered his hand. "It was nice meeting you both."

Both Immortals shook Remus' hand as Duncan replied, "It was our pleasure. If you do decide to come out to the States, I'll be happy to help you get settled and find a job or whatever else you need."

"Thank you again. Like I said before, I'll owl you by weeks end. Come along, Snuffles." He had to pull on the leash to get him away from Snape, who was still embroiled in the petty insult fest. As he walked away, he could hear Methos say, "Okay, now really, this is just getting pathetic…"

Remus smiled ever so slightly and had to agree. Although he still didn't really understand all that Harry was talking about when it came to his Immortality; it was obvious to Remus that Harry was relaxed and comfortable around these men, and even more important: happy. He couldn't ask for anything more, and would do anything to keep him that way. Perhaps moving to the States wouldn't be so bad after all. His lover could walk the streets, he could get a job, and he'd have the endless entertainment of watching Snape bicker with everyone.

Yes, Seacouver was starting to look quite good.

* * *
Snape climbed the stairs to Dumbledore's office; scroll in hand, spirits high. He'd been waiting to do this since the day he first started teaching.

"Ah, Severus! Care for some tea?"

He shook his head. "No thank you, sir."

"Certainly." He felt like he should oblige the old man, especially since it meant that Dumbledore would have a cup himself.

Dumbledore picked up his cup. "And what might I do for you on this fine day?" He began to take a sip.

"Albus," Snape began, a smirk forming on his face. "I quit."

The hot beverage scalded the headmaster's tongue, and he coughed as the tea went down the wrong way.

"Excuse me, Severus?" Dumbledore asked once sufficiently recovered.

"I quit. The day the students leave, so do I."

"I see. May I ask why?"

"I find no pleasure in teaching a bunch of brats with no will to learn. I find having to deal with petty politics to be frustrating and pathetic. If I wanted to spend my time squabbling I'd go back to the mass of infighting that marks the Death Eaters these days. I started working for you because you gave me sanctuary when I realized what a fool I was to have joined with Voldemort. Now that Voldemort is dead, however, I feel like it is time for closure in all things related to him and this part of my life; which includes me working here."

He'd finally made the old man speechless, and it had only taken fifteen years. This was a banner day indeed.

"Since you feel that way, I don't see how I could make you stay here. You are a good teacher, no matter what students may say about you, and I'm sure Hogwarts won't be quite the same without you."

"Thank you, Headmaster." Snape replied demurely, not particularly caring if Dumbledore meant it or not.

"May I ask—and you don't have to answer if you don't want to—but does your resignation have anything to do with Mr. Pierson and Mr. Potter?"

"As a matter of fact, it does. Slytherin is far less stuck up and abrasive as the history books would have you believe, and well, he offered me a job watching Potter, and getting paid to do so. I get to harass him for the next century, at least. How could I refuse?"

Dumbledore was rendered mute yet again. This was quite fun, it was a shame Snape hadn't found the trick sooner.

"I see…well, if there's nothing else I can do for you, Severus…" Dumbledore stood and indicated the door.

Snape half bowed. "Have a good day, Headmaster," he said before walking down the stairs. At the bottom, he was greeted by none other then Harry.

"So it's just you, me and a century then, Professor?" he asked cheekily.

Snape briefly wondered if he hadn't burned his bridges so bad that he still might be able to get his job back, but then decided that yes, yes he had.

"It looks that way." He grinned wickedly. "I can't wait to use you as a guinea pigs for new poisons I develop."

Harry laughed. "We'll see if I actually touch anything you prepare for me."

"If I'm doing the cooking, you will."

He stopped laughing. "Who said we'd be living together?"

"Think about it Potter, have you any idea on how to run a magical household?"

Harry shook his head.

"And I've no idea on how to run a Muggle one. I can't imagine you've any desire to completely give up magic any more than I do, especially as once you complete the term you'll be allowed to use magic freely, therefore, I propose that for the first year or two, a place together might be beneficial to us both as we adapt to a mixed lifestyle for living amongst Muggles."

"You've gone stark raving mad, haven't you?" was the only thing Harry could think of to say after a solid minute.

"No, I'm still quite sane. Think it over Potter."

Giving himself another ten points for shutting up Potter as well, Snape returned to the dungeons in the best mood he'd been in ages.

* * *
"…and then the prat asked me to live with him! It's going to be bad enough being near him all the time, but to live with the wanker? I think he's gone mad, he says he's quite sane. But if you are mad, doesn't that mean you can't tell whether or not you're with it?"

Ron contemplated this, while Hermione replied, "I think it's quite a good idea, because he does have a good point, and you are only seventeen." She paused. "I still don't get why he's going with you and Adam though."

Harry shrugged. "Adam can teach him things that he won't learn anywhere else, and I'm sure it doesn't surprise you that he's got no love for teaching."

"True. I suppose that spying for Dumbledore was the only reason he was really here. Perhaps they'll get someone competent and personable for next term."

"It still doesn't help us though," Ron griped.

"Cheer up Ron, at least you don't even have to attend school next year." Harry replied. "What are you going to do once we're done anyway?"

Ron shrugged. "I'm not really sure. I think I might go visit Charlie and then maybe if I can find the money, Bill. See how're they're doing, see what's out there. Maybe I'll find something that suits me."

Hermione looked envious. "Oh, that'd be great fun and so interesting. I envy you, Ron. I've got an internship at the ministry in the Muggle-Wizard relations department. I hope to get a full time position some day, and to try and facilitate the merging of our cultures. The Muggles have a lot they could learn from us and vice versa."

Harry and Ron exchanged looks. While no doubt her missive was a good one, it didn't sound particularly exciting.

"And we'll keep in touch no matter what," Hermione said.

Harry nodded. "Of course. I'll send your parents e-mail as soon as I get myself set up. It'll be quicker then the owl post."

"Cheaper too." Hermione added.

Ron blinked. "Er, Harry? Hermione? What's this e-mail?"

Hermione sympathetically patted Ron on the shoulder. "I'll explain it to you on the way to the library. You promised you'd revise for the N.E.W.T.s with me," she grinned coyly.

"Oh yeah. I did, didn't I?"

Harry laughed. "I'll talk to you guys later. Take care, and don't let Madame Pince catch you again! You remember what happened last time!"

Ron winced. "You don’t need to remind me, mate."

Hermione waved and dragged her boyfriend off. "Don't worry, Harry! We'll be good."

He laughed, and called back "That's what I'm afraid of!" before heading off to practice with Duncan.

* * *
The remainder of the school year went blazing fast due to all the preparation for the N.E.W.T.s. Thanks to Snape and Methos' help, Harry managed to ace his Potions and Charms, and eke out respectable grades in all the rest, including Transfiguration, much to his delight.

It seemed all too soon that the Hogwarts Express pulled into the Kings Cross station; Harry hadn't even had time to have one final duel on the train with Malfoy the voyage had gone so fast, having spent it going around saying good-bye, collecting both street addresses, and from the Muggle-borns, e-mail ones. He spent some time wishing Ginny luck and dispensing advice to a few Gryffindors who wanted some last minute Quidditch advice as they planned to try out to be Seeker next season. All in all, it was a busy ride, and he didn't spend much time of it in his seat.

When he disembarked, the first thing he did was go for his luggage, and then he returned to find Hermione and Ron waiting for him near the gate separating the Muggle platform from the magical one.

Hugging Hermione, she admonished him to take care and to write often. Ron wished him the best of luck and offered to send him some of his brother's joke props if Snape started to drive him mad.

Snape had found him not too long after, admonishing him to hurry up, so they wouldn't miss their flight.

Traffic had been light and they made it to Heathrow in plenty of time. Harry watched as Snape and a disguised Sirius Black began to quarrel over some trivial issue and began planning on how he was going to get Methos to sit between them.

He wasn't sure of what things would be like in Seacouver, what it would be like to finally fully become a part of the Game, no longer living on Holy Ground. He looked forward to meeting some of Duncan's friends, listening to Methos' stories, and finally meeting Joe, whom both Duncan and Methos spoke fondly of.

That fateful day he walked into The Three Broomsticks, Harry would have never predicted anything that had happened to him in the last six months, and as he listened to the attendant announce that boarding had begun, he was glad. Things were different now, and once he made it to Washington, he would stop being the Boy Who Lived and could start living just as Harry Potter. An Immortal Harry Potter, perhaps, but that was good enough for him.