Scar Mates

THE TRUTH ABOUT HARRY

It was enough for Snape to know that the Headmaster was ready to tell him the truth about Harry Potter. Easter break had come and gone, and they still had not had that discussion. He strangely felt no compulsion to push any further for it now. He suspected that part of the reason for this dampening of his desire to know was a growing premonition that it was not going to be good news. If he is to survive. What could it possibly mean? But the Headmaster had pulled him aside after lunch today, and they had decided on tomorrow evening, Sunday, for the conversation to finally take place.

He'd had a disconcerting few weeks since that last Pensiève visit, if truth be told. His ambivalence about the boy had been magnified by reliving that fierce sense of connection and protectiveness he'd felt in the hours after Godric's Hollow. But now, he didn't feel ambivalent at all. The urge to observe and protect him had grown even stronger, and was complicated by the growing alarm he felt as he watched the boy day by day. The child was obviously bothered by something. He seemed thinner and paler, and if possible, was even more distracted in Potions class than usual. He'd watched with concern as the boy rubbed at his scar, not fifteen feet away in the classroom. He knew that their proximity to one another was not the cause, as he himself was on his guard and felt no sympathetic twinges of his own. Even more distressing, he'd caught the boy staring at him at odd moments, and the expression on that face had been accusing and wary. What's going on in that head of yours, Harry? He could only imagine, Hagrid having advised him on more than one occasion that the boy had misjudged both his sentiments and his motivations. He'd wondered too, how much the little sleuths had been able to discover about Flamel. With the Gryffindor Girl Wonder in hot pursuit, they had probably figured out by now what lay within the Grid, and he knew since Hagrid had already told him, that they thought he was trying to steal whatever that was.

He sighed. That could account for part of the boy's behavior, at least the part that was directed at Snape. He didn't usually concern himself with what students thought about him one way or the other. But like it or not, he had to admit that he did care about what this one thought of him. And that was the muddled mess of it. Whether or not it was because he was Lily's son, or because of the damned amulet, the fact was that it bothered him that the boy's perception of him was so skewed. These considerations, however, did not alter his treatment of the boy in class, save for the shielding that he took care to keep in place. He met the boy's distraction and attitude in the same way that he dealt with these in any other student. He verbally reprimanded him and took points when his performance or cheek demanded it. But he had to admit that it was distressing at times, especially as his own inclinations leaned so far in the opposite direction. He was toying with probing into the boy's mind for some answers, but had so far resisted, knowing what the Headmaster's reaction would be were he to do such a thing.

He was ensconced on the couch in his sitting room, finishing up a batch of third year essays, when someone rapped twice on his door. Startled, he look up at the mantel clock and was surprised that it was almost midnight. This should prove interesting, given the hour. Throwing his dressing gown on as he made for the door, he flung it open, then let his face settle into a scowl when he saw who was standing there.

"Professor McGonagall." He lowered his glance and his voice. "Mister Malfoy, I'm assuming this has something to do with you, then?" He put the menace into his voice intentionally and effortlessly, and was gratified to see the first-year suppress an involuntary flinch.

"Professor Snape, I found Mister Malfoy in the corridor just now, by the steps to the Astronomy Tower. I've taken twenty points from Slytherin, and I've refused to hear another word of his ridiculous story. As his head of house, I'll leave that dubious privilege to you. He will also be serving detention. I will let you both know as soon as I've arranged it." She still held the boy by the robes.

Snape glared down at the Slytherin for a moment, letting it stretch out to increase the boy's discomfort. McGonagall waited in silence, this being part of a well-choreographed tactic that the both of them had used before. "Thank you, Professor. I'll take it from here."

Releasing his robes, she gave the boy a withering look as she said before turning to leave, "As I said, you'll be notified of your detention as soon as it's decided."

Snape waited as her footsteps died out, drawing out the moment again as he studied the boy before him. It was so predictable that once she was gone, the boy would try to defend himself.

"Professor, I tried to tell her that..."

He held up a hand and the boy stopped immediately. "It's midnight, Mister Malfoy. We are not going to examine your exploits just now. I will see you, in my office, directly after breakfast. Perhaps that will give you time to put your story together?" He leaned down toward the boy's face, and notched up the menace in his voice. "And if you put so much as a toe out of line for the remainder of the year, I will be writing to your father." He held the boy's eyes for a moment, then flicked his hand toward the corridor. "Go."

The boy backed away, almost stumbling as he turned to scuttle down the corridor to the Slytherin common room. Snape watched him, then sighed contentedly as he turned back to his rooms. So much more enjoyable when it's uncomplicated misbehavior.

The next morning, as he was sitting down to breakfast in the Great Hall, he looked over at his house table to find the Malfoy boy staring at him. When the boy realized that he'd caught Snape's attention, he gave a nod towards the house-counters. Puzzled, Snape looked at them too, and had to struggle to hide his reaction. If the Slytherin level had registered a dip due to Malfoy's infraction, the Gryffindor counter had positively plummeted. Looks like at least 150 points. He glanced back at the boy who gave him a slight nod then went back to his breakfast.

Well, well, this is intriguing. Picking up his plate, he carried it to the other end of the staff table to sit at the vacant place next to McGonagall.

Without looking up, she said as he sat, "I saved a spot for you, Severus, as I knew you'd have something to say. Come to gloat, have we?"

"I'm overjoyed, of course," he told her dryly. "What happened? It must be monumental. It seems you're down at least 150 points since supper last night."

"Exactly 150. Argus caught two of them not far from where I found Mister Malfoy. I apprehended the other one trying to join them."

"Who?" he asked, dreading the reply, sure that he knew at least a third of the answer.

"Granger, Potter, and Longbottom." She sniffed, then finally looked at him. "I'll be arranging for all four of them to serve their detention together as soon as I can find something suitably severe."

"Excellent," he told her. "I'm having a little chat with Mister Malfoy after breakfast. I'll let him know he'll be having company." He shook his head. "Potter and Granger I can see in the mix. But Malfoy, too? And Longbottom? I'm surprised he's not in bed by eight. He certainly seems the type."

McGonagall's lips twitched. "Be nice, Severus. He's just naturally timid, that's all. And you terrify him."

"All the more reason to wonder what could have gotten him out in the corridor at midnight," he murmured. Reaching out to pick up his tea, the sensation in his arm alerted him that he was being watched. He brought his head up slowly to see what he knew he would see. The boy was partially turned in his seat, gazing at him intently. Snape returned the look until the boy ducked his head and turned back.

What have you been up to this time, Harry?

When he reached his office, Draco Malfoy was already standing there in the corridor, waiting. Ignoring the boy, he opened the door and stepped in, casting a "Come in, Mister Malfoy" behind him without a backward glance. Setting a straight-back chair in front of his desk, he took his own seat behind it, then sat back to consider the Slytherin before him. If the boy had been unsure of himself the night before, this morning he seemed almost smug.

Snape steepled his hands in front of him, then pursed his lips before saying, "Before you begin, Mister Malfoy, let me inform you that nothing you have to say to me will excuse your behavior of last evening. I repeat. Nothing." He paused, watching the boy's face. "Do you recall what I told you when we talked in December? The point that I made about pranks and misbehavior, hmm? Care to dazzle me with how accurately you can recall my instructions?"

There was the slightest flicker of something in the boy's eyes, then he recovered. "Not to get caught, sir," he duly replied.

"Precisely. So it is not a matter of you misunderstanding?" he asked, his eyebrows raised with the question, the sarcasm in his voice unmistakable.

"No sir." The voice faltered just the tiniest bit.

"So enlighten me, Mister Malfoy. How is it that you came to be caught?" He purposefully avoided the question of why the boy was out after curfew.

The boy was clearly not pleased with how this was progressing. He squirmed once in his seat, then replied. "She came out of nowhere, Professor. She had me by the shoulder before I even knew she was there."

"Ah. So I suggest, Mister Malfoy, that before you attempt any such stunt again, you acquire the skills of stealth necessary to prevent a reoccurrence."

The boy looked at him, almost sullen, and nodded in reply.

"I didn't quite get that, Mister Malfoy."

"Yes sir, I understand. "

"Good." He reached over and picked up a quill, idly fingering it for a moment before he moved on to what he really wanted to get out of the boy. "So, what were you doing in the corridor at midnight?"

The boy almost exploded with relief. "I was trying to catch Potter and Granger on their way to the Astronomy Tower. I knew they were going up there to meet Charlie Weasley's friends to hand over Hagrid's dragon. I knew about it and I..."

Snape dropped the quill, and put up a hand to silence the boy. "Just one moment, Mister Malfoy. How did you know in the first place that they were going to be there?"

The boy eagerly told him. "I found a note in a book I got from Weasley that said that his brother's friends would be up there to meet them at midnight."

Snape stopped him again. "This note was in a book Mister Weasley gave you? Didn't you find that a trifle suspicious? Did you stop to consider that they might be baiting you?"

The boy let out an exasperated breath. "Professor Snape, I saw it. I saw the dragon in Hagrid's hut. He had a dragon, and they were helping him with it."

Snape could not help but look skeptical. "A dragon, Mister Malfoy? You can't be serious. Firstly, they're illegal. And secondly, Hagrid would have no means to acquire such a creature." He wasn't too sure about this last statement, knowing Hagrid as he did. But he didn't betray this reservation.

The boy sighed. "Trust me, Professor. It was a dragon. I even watched through the window when it was hatching out of its egg. When it came out, it was black, with big wings and horns, and when it coughed or something, sparks came out of its snout."

Snape hid his growing alarm. The boy was describing a Norwegian Ridgeback to a fault. He couldn't imagine where the man would have gotten such a thing. Then he remembered his afternoon with Hagrid when they had haggled over the beast for the Grid. The man did confess to having some questionable contacts from whom he could obtain some rather unusual creatures.

"You're absolutely sure that they didn't trick you in some way? Set you up to see what you saw?"

The boy shook his head. "They didn't even know I was there. I overheard them talking about going down there to watch something hatch, so I followed them. I watched the whole thing through the window."

Snape pondered over what he should do. Hagrid certainly shouldn't have been hatching a dragon egg, and he most definitely should not have involved students in something so blatantly illegal, let alone dangerous. He would have to speak to the Headmaster about this. It could possibly be true: considering it was Hagrid, what Malfoy had seen, and the fact that the three Gryffindors had also been caught out after curfew on the night the alleged transfer supposedly took place.

But first he had a few loose ends to tie up with this insolent Slytherin. "As you were caught, Mister Malfoy, it seems unlikely now that we'll ever know the truth of the matter. Had you come to me sooner and not taken matters into your own hands, we might have more effectively exposed the situation. If they were indeed taking a dragon up to the tower, they must have succeeded, as none of them were sporting charred limbs or burned faces at breakfast?"

The boy looked crestfallen. "You don't believe me then?"

Merlin help me. "Believing you is irrelevant now, Mister Malfoy. As there is no longer any evidence due to your misfortunate apprehension, there is nothing further to do. The lesson here is that you should come to me, your head of house, with problems like this. That is what I am here for. Do you understand?" he finished, exasperation creeping into his voice.

Dejected, the boy nodded. Then he brightened, and grinned slyly. "But they lost 150 points, sir."

Snape stared at him stonily. "And you lost twenty unnecessary ones. Learn this new lesson, Mister Malfoy. Come to me next time, and no Slytherin points will be lost." He stood, signaling the end of the interview. "You will be notified by Professor McGonagall concerning your detention, a demanding one, I imagine." He paused, then told the boy just before he closed him out of his office, "You will be serving it with the other three incompetents. Good day, Mister Malfoy."

Sunday evening after supper, Snape and Dumbledore made their way up to the Headmaster's office, and the younger man found himself wishing that they were making their way to his own chambers to visit the Pensiève instead. At least on those occasions he'd had an inkling of what to expect. He had a strange foreboding about what was finally going to be revealed to him, and this was confirmed when the old man brought out his best sherry, which Snape knew he reserved for special guests and bad tidings.

"Albus," he chided the man, "you don't have to ply me with your special stock. The everyday brandy will do."

Dumbledore laughed, caught in the act. "Well, it is a rather special evening. One I have put off for far too long, Severus. I don't have that many visitors that I feel inclined to share it with." After he poured them both a glass, they sat across from each other in the small sitting room.

As they sipped, Snape watched the old man as he said to him nonchalantly, "Mister Malfoy had an interesting tale to tell me this morning, Albus. It seems that Hagrid, until last evening, has been raising a dragon in his hut." He smiled into his glass as the Headmaster sputtered into his own. It's not often that I get to tell you something you don't already know.

Patting himself on the chest, Dumbledore took a few moments to recover. "A dragon?" he asked, incredulous.

"Yes, sir. The Malfoy boy watched it hatch himself. That's what all the point-taking this weekend was about. It seems that Potter and his friends arranged to have someone from Charlie Weasley's reservation come to collect it last night. But they were caught." He paused, unable to disguise the regret in his voice. "After the deed was already done."

The Headmaster was sitting very still, and Snape watched with ill-concealed disgust as a slow smile spread across the old man's face. I should have known he'd react this way.

"Did he really? A dragon? Heavens." The delight on his face was growing as he thought about it. "I would have loved to have seen it, Severus." He shook his head at the look of disdain on Snape's face. "Oh come now, Severus. Of course he's broken a rule, but a dragon, of all things. I wonder where he got such a prize?"

"A law, Albus, not a rule. And he involved students in the whole affair as well. They could have been injured, or even implicated had he been caught."

The blue eyes flashed at him. "Settle yourself, Severus. Nothing came of it, since I wasn't even aware it took place. But I will speak to him about it, I can assure you." There was still a fanciful gleam in the blue eyes, and Snape suspected that any talk the old man had with the groundskeeper would center more on the cuddly little creature than on the harboring of an illegal specimen.

It took the Potions Master a few minutes to redirect the now distracted Headmaster back to the business at hand. After refilling their glasses, the old man fingered his beard as he considered how to begin.

"This may strain your powers of belief a little, Severus, so be fair-warned. But I have no doubt of the truth of what I am about to tell you." He paused, then took a deep breath. "There was a prophecy about the boy, given to me unexpectedly in the spring of 1980, before he was born. It was authentic, I'm afraid. You'll have to trust me on that account." Reaching into his robes, he withdrew a parchment which he then held out to Snape.

Slowly unfolding it, the Potions Master read it aloud:

The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches

Born to those who have thrice defied him

Born as the seventh month dies

And the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal

But he will have power the Dark Lord knows not

And either must die at the hand of the other

For neither can live while the other survives

The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord

Will be born as the seventh month dies

Finished, he folded it and let it lie in his lap. He sat, stunned, as he considered what he'd just read.

"It's Harry, Severus," the old man said gently. "It may not have been at the beginning. There was one other possibility up until Godric's Hollow. But when Voldemort gave him that scar, he became indelibly marked as the one named in the prophecy."

"How did you come to know all of this, Headmaster?" Snape asked, finally finding his voice. "And how did Voldemort come to know of it, as he most surely must have since he decided to go after the boy?"

"It's a delicate matter. The prophecy was given to me personally. That's why I can most unreservedly authenticate it." His face fell a little as he admitted, "Unfortunately, the location where it was given to me was not quite secure, and a portion of it was overheard and reported to Voldemort."

A silence stretched out between them until Snape said, "He mustn't have known about the marking part, or surely he would have proceeded differently."

Dumbledore nodded. "That's most certainly true. And up until that point, it was not set that Harry would be the one. But after Godric's Hollow, the course was firm." He waited until Snape raised his eyes to look at him. "I am not surprised, Severus, by this 'ill wind blowing'. The prophecy leaves no question that the spirit of Voldemort endures, all evidence to the contrary. The prophecy itself pivots on this next meeting between the Dark and the Light."

"He's just a boy, Albus. How will he ever do this? Even with 'power the Dark Lord knows not', it's a laughably uneven match. He'll never survive it."

Dumbledore sat back in his chair, flint in the blue eyes as he spoke. "This is why I insisted that he stay with the Dursleys, Severus. And why I was so anxious to get him here as soon as he came of age. He's almost twelve now. Although the prophecy is clear that one of them will not survive, it also takes a full line to tell us that the boy is equipped with something to even the playing field. What that is, precisely, I do not yet know. But I do know what our part in this must be, Severus--to protect him, and train him to the best of his ability, so that he will stand prepared when the time comes. And that time will come, I have no doubt about that." He paused, a thoughtful expression settling over his face. "There will have to be some special allowances made for him. He must be given every opportunity to flex his magical muscles. If we fail him in this, Severus, it will not be just his undoing, but the undoing of us all, I'm afraid."

Snape was still struggling to take it all in. He did not doubt the truth of it, but the implications for the boy, for all of them, were staggering. "Are you going to tell him, Albus?" he asked quietly.

The old man looked startled. "Tell him?" he echoed, then faltered a little before replying, "I should tell him, Severus. But not yet. I think he is still too young. He's had a great deal to adjust to this past year. I think it will keep for a little while longer."

Snape was not sure. The boy certainly had the right to know. "That may be, Albus, but I wouldn't let it go for much longer. He'll need to know in order to prepare, in fact, to be motivated to prepare. But it's your decision." He suddenly felt drained, and wished fervently that he hadn't pressed for the facts that he now possessed.

"That is why, Severus, I will hold you to your promise to continue to protect him, even once the power of the binding spell is broken. I fear he'll be in danger soon enough."

Snape nodded. "You needn't worry on that account, Albus. Remember, whatever my feelings, I am constrained to look out for him. That will not change."

The Headmaster was satisfied, and told him, "Only Nicolas and I know of this, Severus, and now you. If circumstances in the future require it, you will need to take steps to protect the memory of what I have told you. It wouldn't do for Voldemort to know the most alarming part of the prophecy."

Snape inwardly winced. "No it wouldn't. If the need arises, I'll take the necessary precautions." He didn't want to think about what circumstances would make that action necessary.

"On a brighter note," Dumbledore resumed, "Nicolas and Perenelle will be coming to Hogwart's in two weeks, as a solution for unspelling the amulets is near at hand. We'll both meet with him then."

He was eyeing his Potions Master with concern. "Severus, do not overly dwell on it. It will only rob you of the pleasures of today. Tomorrow will bring what it will bring. We'll do our part by preparing day by day, and must trust that it will be enough."

Snape harrumphed. "You forget, Albus, it's in my nature to worry. And right now, it's very much in my nature to be concerned about the boy. I take no small offence at what fate has seen fit to place on his small shoulders." They sat quietly together for a long while, each of them lost in their thoughts of what the future might bring.

As he was leaving, the old man patted him on the back. "Good night, Severus,my boy."

As he walked off, he grumbled to himself. No, not a good night.