Pandora's Box

Harry burst into the infirmary. The door banged against the wall from the force he had barreled through with. Madam Pomfrey gave him a dirty look and Harry smiled sheepishly at her. Still casting him a dirty look, she pressed a finger to her lips to signal silence. Harry nodded understandingly and followed the direction in which she then pointed.

Severus the ghost, the Mirror of Rebounds on the floor to his left and the Dursleys' toaster oven on the floor to his right, floated beside the headboard of one of the hospital beds. In the mirrors and countryside paintings someone had placed around the bed, Harry's Snape ancestors whispered and watched with Severus.

Harry slowly approached the bed to see Francis Potter sprawled across the sheets. His arms were flung wide and the sheets were bunched around his waist. Madam Pomfrey had exchanged his blood-soaked robes for a white hospital gown, which hiked high up fuzzy-looking legs. Harry looked from his great-grandfather to his adopted uncle.

"Now I know where James got his sleeping habits," Severus grumbled. At the sound of his voice, Francis flipped over to his side and mumbled something about five more minutes, 'll right Pandora? Francis pulled a pillow over his head. Harry noticed how his feet twitched a few moments before stilling. Cousin Quigley watched with plain amusement.

"At least we know he's all right now, right?" Harry asked.

"It's amazing how quickly he has improved," Madam Pomfrey said behind them. Heads turned to look at her. She moved to stand beside the bed and gazed down at Francis Potter. On the bed stand beside the bed, the goggles that Francis had been wearing rested beside his wedding band and a large gold pocket watch on a long chain. "I can only attest that to your having pumped a great deal of healing energy into Francis when you cast that spell on him." She eyed Harry. "Are you feeling weak?"

"Not particularly," Harry said. "I felt a bit weak after I cast the spell, but I recovered pretty fast."

Without saying a word, Madam Pomfrey handed him a small bottle of rejuvenating potion. "To replace what you lost," she said in explanation. Harry wanted to say he would much rather prefer a large supper, but he drank the potion without complaint. It tasted of vinegar and he shuddered at it. Madam Pomfrey said nothing as she took the empty bottle from him and walked away. Harry placed Pandora's Box beside the Mirror of Rebounds and sat down on Francis' bed.

"I don't know what to do," he said finally.

"You've already done enough," Severus the ghost replied gruffly. He stared at Harry for a moment then made a shooing gesture with his hands. "Off to the kitchen with you," he said. "I'm sure Dobby would be pleased enough to see you and once the house elves learn you've not eaten, they'll stuff you with all sorts of food. " Harry looked at his uncle suspiciously. It was not so much that Harry was surprised that Severus would show a slight amount of concern towards him, but that Severus' voice was far gentler than he had heard before. "Don't worry about Francis. This is the safest place for him to stay." Harry did not move until Severus' eyes narrowed dangerously and he made an impatient gesture with his hands. "Go on!" he snapped with a slim finger pointed at the infirmary's doors. "I will not have you fainting from lack of food, for I certainly will not sit at your bedside!"

Harry jumped at the snarl in Severus' voice. Well, so much for that short-lived gentleness. In the corner of his eye, Harry saw the twins grin knowingly at him. He hurried out of the room down to the kitchens. Cousin Quigley perked up upon learning he and Harry were heading for the kitchen.

"Do you wonder if the house elves will make a hot totty for us?" Cousin Quigley wondered.

Harry was not sure what a hot totty was, but he knew (just because this was "Quaffing" Quigley who was asking) it had to involve alcohol of some sort. His stomach twisted with hunger and his quick walk broke into a jog. He rounded one corner and knocked McGonagall over. Harry apologized profusely as he helped her to her feet.

"Harry," McGonagall said, "you needn't worry. This is summer, classes are not in session, and I'm certainly not going to take points off for your running through the halls."

Harry grinned. "I wasn't worried about the removal of points. I don't remember anyone losing points for running through the halls."

"Most certainly not," McGonagall agreed. Harry's stomach growled loudly at that point, and Harry found himself blushing. McGonagall let him on his way to the kitchen. He threw a smile over his shoulder at her as he hurried along.

"Who was that?" Cousin Quigley asked.

"That was the Head of the Gryffindor House," Harry replied. "She's all right, even if she's sort of strict."

"Hmm." Cousin Quigley rubbed his eyes and looked around. "This place hasn't altered since I attended Hogwarts."

"When did you attend Hogwarts?"

Cousin Quigley's face scrunched up as he thought. "If I recall correctly--it's been a terribly long while--my first year at Hogwarts was 1764."

"That was a long while ago."

"Yes." A dreamy look floated across Cousin Quigley's face. "When I finished school, I received a job with the Foreign Relationships of the Ministry of Magic. I helped establish the first school of witchcraft and wizardry in the United States of America only a few short years after their war for freedom." He vaguely waved his hands with a sadly wistful smile on his face. "I met my wife there. She was an Iroquois Indian whose father had been a powerful medicine man. She ran away from her tribe--she never did go back either--to attend the school, and her native ways were looked down upon and shunned. I took an interest in her. I suppose it was partially because she reminded me of, well, me. I did my best to help her adjust to living in a magical society.

"White Rabbit and I became quite acquainted with one another and married two years after her graduation. Not that the family approved of her, of course, but the family has never approved of anything I ever did." He looked sad then.

"But," Harry said with a frown as he remembered what Uncle Costello had said, "what of the Mirror of Rebounds?"

Cousin Quigley made a face. "Harry," he said in a stern voice, "the Mirror of Rebounds is a sentient item. When Hyacinthe the Druid created it, he infused a small piece of his own will into it. Only those with the man's blood may control its will, and that blood may be found most prominently within the Snapes, although there were several Malfoys who were known to use the mirror. The Mirror of Rebounds, because of its creator, is quite silent. It does not care to part with its information; the druids were notoriously close-mouthed keepers of lore and knowledge."

"Weren't they also seers?"

"Which is why the Mirror can look forward as well as it can look backward," Cousin Quigley replied darkly. "But again, the Mirror does not care to part with what it knows, and the druids were very stubborn persons."

"Then it would show us Pandora if it wanted?"

"It doesn't want to part with what it knows," Cousin Quigley gave Harry a testy glare for having to repeat himself. "At least, not to those who are unreceptive. The Snape family always tended to be very rigid and rather self-righteous in their beliefs, but not as much as the Malfoys, which is why they don't have such a record of users like we did. Not to mention it was a Malfoy who killed Hyacinthe the druid, and the Mirror of Rebounds was never too happy about that, Oh, both families are powerful though. Powerful enough to bend the will of the mirror to their own and force it to show them what they wanted. However, the Mirror of Rebounds never fully allowed itself to surrender its complete power to those whose minds are closed to possibilities and change. It's a selfish little critter."

A bitterness filled Cousin Quigley's voice. Harry faltered in his walking and squinted his eyes at the reflection in his glasses. "A Malfoy killed Hyacinthe? Was it a Malfoy who was driving the carriage?"

Cousin Quigley shook his head. "No. A Malfoy pushed him. Daemon Malfoy did not care to be tricked into marrying Hyacinthe's exceptionally unsightly daughter."

"What about Grandfather Severus, then?" Harry asked. "Uncle Severus says he was the most open-minded of all the Snapes."

"He does not need the Mirror," Cousin Quigley said. "The Mirror told him things through other means, such was his open-mindedness. That was how he met Rhia-eep!" A look of panicked terror crossed Cousin Quigley's face and he ducked beneath the frames of Harry's glasses. Harry's mind froze at the sudden piece of information Cousin Quigley had given him. His body soon followed as he accidentally ran directly through the Bloody Baron.

The Slytherin Ghost gave Harry a dirty look as he drifted up through the floors. Harry shuddered as his eyes traced the bleeding gashes rent across the ghostly flesh. The Bloody Baron had been killed very violently and his wounds remained after death. Harry squinted at his glasses. Cousin Quigley was probably not going to be back so soon. As Harry started to walk to the kitchens again, he had to wonder how Severus the ghost had died.

================

Dumbledore accosted Harry at the entrance to the infirmary when the boy wandered back from the kitchens, munching contentedly on a piece of corn bread Winky had wrapped in a cheese cloth for him. "My boy!" Dumbledore cried happily as Harry appeared. Harry stared suspiciously at Dumbledore, his jaws frozen in mid-munch. "I have a few things I wish to discuss with you." Dumbledore looped one arm through Harry's and insistently tugged him away from the infirmary. "How has your Uncle Severus been, hmmm?"

"Annoying," Harry replied without thinking. Dumbledore chuckled.

"He's rather skilled at that," the Headmaster said fondly. "I'm quite glad that you and your relations are here, Harry. The summer months tend to pass so slowly, what with Hogwarts being empty and so tomb-like. Now, at least with you here, this dull place will brighten up."

Harry looked at Dumbledore as the old man's face glowed with bliss. "Do you go anywhere else during the summer months?" he inquired politely.

"Oh, I'll visit the mountains on occasion, or the seashore for a romp in the oceans."

Harry had a silly vision of Dumbledore wearing only Bermuda shorts as he lounged on a lawn chair, drinking piña coladas with little umbrella straws. Harry snickered as Dumbledore gazed at him with twinkling eyes, as if he knew what Harry was imagining. "The school," Dumbledore said solemnly, "is my life. I dedicate almost all my time to be sure it is kept safe, and so students will always have a safe haven if they are ever in need of it." He sighed. "As these times grow steadily darker, there will be many who need it."

Harry's cheer dissipated. "How dark have things become?" he asked fearfully.

Dumbledore patted him gently on the shoulder. "Without your great-grandmother's ability to halt Voldemort's attacks, I will say within two years he will have gained back all that he has lost. But we have a more pressing matter to attend at this very moment, and it is currently lying in the infirmary."

"Francis Potter?"

"Yes. Now, when you say you pulled Francis through, how did that happen?" Dumbledore sounded innocent enough in his curiosity, but something about the sharp look in his eyes made the hair on the back of Harry's neck stand on end. Dumbledore watched and waited for Harry's reaction. The Headmaster was going to learn more than just about exactly what happened; Harry had a feeling that even his very movement could inform Dumbledore what he wanted to know.

They say that Dumbledore is the only wizard Voldemort ever feared, Harry thought to himself. Not trusting his voice, he shrugged. "I," he said carefully, "really can't say." At the slight narrowing of Dumbledore's eyes, Harry hastened to explain why he could not say. "I don't know how it happened. I saw Francis in the Mirror of Rebounds, and I reached for him, and then there was this power, and Francis came through."

"Ah." Dumbledore patted Harry's shoulder again. "It is difficult to understand something you have no understanding of," He smiled at Harry as he dug through his violet-colored robes pockets until he discovered a slightly melted Chocolate Frog. "Here." He pressed it into Harry's hand. "These make an excellent bedtime snack, and it is late. Minerva has informed me she has prepared one of the dormitories for you within the Gryffindor Tower. Password is bravado. Run along now." Dumbledore shooed Harry off.

"But what about--"

"I'll send Severus along to tuck you in. Don't worry about your grandfather. Poppy will tie Francis down to the bed if she has to, just to make sure he stays there long enough for her to decide he is well." Dumbledore winked knowingly. "I believe she had several weeks in mind, but Francis was never one to disobey authority in the first place."

Harry started to protest again, but the jaw-cracking yawn that prevented him from saying anything was the deciding factor in the argument. He bade Dumbledore good evening and walked to the entrance of the Gryffindor Tower. On his way, a face timidly peeked over the bottom edge of his glasses' rims, and peered nervously about with alcohol-bleary eyes.

"Ish he gone?" Cousin Quigley whispered, meaning the Bloody Baron.

Harry silently groaned. He found he rather liked speaking to Cousin Quigley, but only when the man was not intoxicated. "He's gone."

Cousin Quigley's lower lip trembled. "Good." He tilted his head back and took a quick swig from a green bottle. "He hatesh me," he whimpered. "He nevah (hic) liked the idea that a Shnape winded up in Hupplefuff. Er, Pupplehuff. Oh gosh (sniffle)." He took another swig. "He nevah let me shleep, he (hic) alwaysh towe up my homewowk. And he dwipped blood all over (hic) my wobesh." Cousin Quigley rubbed his red eyes and Harry felt a wave of pity for his sad little ancestor. "They all shaid the Bwoddy Bawon would tuffen me up. They all picked on (sniff) on me!" Cousin Quigley burst into tears, and Harry fought down the urge to rub his glasses in an effort to get rid of Cousin Quigley. "Thoshe bulliesh!"

"That's right," Harry agreed to appease his sobbing relative. "They don't know a single thing of how it feels to be what you are and what you do. They don't understand what it is like to be stuck in the situation and that all you can try to do is just get by."

Cousin Quigley nodded as he sobbed, draped over the rim with his head buried in his arms. "I'll show them though!" he cried suddenly as he suddenly stood upright. He tossed the bottle over his shoulder. His face, red from drink, became redder still. "I'll show them!" He started to walk to the right of Harry's glasses, tripped over his own feet, and fell flat on his face out of sight. "Ouch."

Harry did not know whether to laugh or cry at Cousin Quigley's actions. He decided to ignore the matter. As he passed the girls' bathroom, he thought of Moaning Myrtle. Perhaps, he thought bemusedly, the two wouldn't mind going on a date.

Wait . . . Can portraits and ghosts date? Harry decided to ask his grandfather Severus at a later time. The Fat Lady greeted him cordially enough as he approached her portrait, given the fact it was late at night and she never appreciated having her sleep interrupted.

"Glad to have you back," she said brightly. "It's dull around here without you children popping in and out." Harry smiled at her and passed through the entrance. He glanced around the common room with a little smile on his face. It was good to be home again. The Gryffindor common room was one of the most friendliest and most familiar rooms in all of Hogwarts. At least, that had always been Harry's opinion. Standing in it made Harry feel warm with happiness.

Professor McGonagall had left a light burning in the common room. Up the stairs, Harry saw another light burning. He trudged tiredly up to where the light burned. It was a small candle beside the only open doorway in the boys' dormitory. Harry believed this to be the dormitory Professor McGonagall had prepared for him. He picked up the candle and carried it over to the only made bed in the entire room. He saw his trunk half-hidden in the shadows at the foot of his bed. Harry undressed, pulled his pajamas out of the trunk, and was slipping the pajamas top on when a transparent head emerged from the floors. It was followed by an equally transparent body.

Used to his uncle materializing or floating through walls, ceilings, and floors, Harry was hardly surprised. Nor was he surprised at the scowl etched into Severus' features, since he was also used to Severus' constant poor mood. "What's the matter?" Harry asked as he tugged on his pajamas bottom.

"Would you care to be tucked into bed?" Severus' voice was kind and patient, very much unlike the unpleasant scowl on his face.

"No, thank you," Harry replied evenly as he pulled his blankets back. "I am quite sure I can take care of myself. But I would like a story."

"And I suppose you want a happy ending as well."

"It would be nice. I wouldn't want nightmares." Harry pounced upon his bed and drew the covers back over himself.

There was a slight pause. "We are both being sarcastic, aren't we?" Severus inquired. He looked as unsure as he sounded.

"I'm hoping so," Harry replied, just as unsure. "I'm not too partial with the thought of you reading me a story."

"The feeling is mutual." They gazed at one another for a moment. It was Severus who looked away first. "Are you absolutely certain that you don't need to be tucked in?"

"What are you up to?" Harry demanded suspiciously. Severus shrugged. He managed to gather a semblance of dignity around himself so he did not seem so unsure.

"I've been thinking," he said. "Of Francis and Pandora and everyone else. Francis had three children nearly as old as yourself when he was attacked and then you pulled him across the stream of time. While he is not one to panic, I'm not sure how he'll react to knowing he is nearly five decades into the future and you're his great-grandson and I'm his adopted grandson." He looked thoughtful. "Or something; I'm not sure what I am to him since he was legally dead when Pandora adopted me."

"Look, if this is about whether you've been a good uncle to me, I have to say that you are the best uncle I have ever known while he was alive."

Severus glared at Harry. "Your only other uncle is Vernon Dursley," he reminded Harry bitterly. "That doesn't leave much room for comparison."

Harry sighed as he pulled his bed covers over his head. "Isn't it Voldemort's weekend to be haunted?"

Severus shrugged. "I made him mad enough at me as it is."

"Then go haunt Lucius Malfoy instead."

Severus thought about that. "I really shouldn't leave Francis just now . . ." He looked torn for a moment then shrugged. "A few hours won't hurt," he mumbled to himself as he drifted away. Harry wondered briefly why his uncle was acting so strange, but that question disappeared as he drifted off to sleep.

And dreamt once again.