The Great Light wizard collapsed into his favorite armchair, fanning himself with his own beard. His favorite method of leading a subject to the needed decision so they'd be absolutely sure they'd thought of everything themselves for the first time in his life worked completely "wrong."
The tested influence system was crumbling almost to the foundation. And on whom?! A stupid underage boy! Either should've just ordered him, or taught him more... ah, no, Snape's example proved that wasn't an option either.
And why did the boy start all this? Did he want to arrange a staff meeting? Bones showing up too... Merlin, so many complications! And all so sudden!
The open Pensieve—which Albus hadn't even remembered until left alone—smoked restlessly with silvery mist of memories. The headmaster pulled the Elder Wand from his sleeve. Always gave him confidence in himself and his actions besides magic. Perked up a bit and removed the bowl's contents into a special vial.
No way. From now on he wouldn't give Harry any hints. He'd say clearly and plainly what he wanted from him. Shouldn't have hoped the boy would decide himself which friends to bring... Well yeah, hoped correctly—he brought them. But how did the heads of house end up among them?..
And what a sincere explanation! That they were the most important people at school. If something was really important, who but them should be informed? What could he object to? Albus sighed. Probably should've warned Harry personally. Though that might not have worked either.
No, Potter looked nothing like Riddle. And methods he'd used on Tom gave completely different results on the boy. Harry seemed to have nothing particularly personal except his attitude toward his parents. And really, airing all that in the Great Hall was too much. No, Harry Potter turned out too much like a Gryffindor. Maybe communication with Severus would help gradually straighten the situation?
And now, instead of calmly thinking and deciding what to do with the unmanageable and not-fitting-any-normal-classification Potter, had to rack his brains about what to do with the notorious house in Godric's Hollow.
Albus immersed himself again in thoughts about what just happened.
Soon as he'd mentioned that house was now a memorial—couldn't take away England's magical historical relic—Bones had started nodding approvingly. Then Madam Sprout's short anger "But taking a house from an orphan is fine?" nullified all his efforts.
And he still hadn't reached the holy of holies: the closed library section and famous Potter laboratory. Now would lose that opportunity forever—couldn't refuse the boy anymore. Bones (what made her discuss her niece exactly then!) wouldn't forget this. Not to mention Sprout. How annoying!
Though... if he tried, Harry would bring him everything himself that he asked for. Could use his childish directness beautifully. The headmaster instantly felt better from this thought. Sighed with satisfaction and summed up: January thirtieth excursion—happening. And escorting Harry...
He ran his eyes over the schedule and leaned back satisfied. Gryffindor third-years had three pairs that day. Same as Lupin and Snape. Excellent! The werewolf always irritated Severus so much he wouldn't be up to the Potters' house. Likely not up to Harry either.
True, then both professors would occupy each other. Couldn't properly watch the boy. With all his directness and unpredictability, Harry might climb anywhere and get in so deep even thinking about it was unpleasant! But... Why not send Madam Sprout since she'd taken this question so to heart? She'd make up for her Ravenclaw lesson later somehow. Maybe.
The headmaster smiled with satisfaction. Pomona hated schedule changes. Tied to caring for her green (and not so green) pets. So let her feel how inconvenient dealing with other people's business could be!
He Just had to prepare the house. Destruction claimed, so needed destroying something. But... who'd have to restore it? Not the one who once called himself guardian? And though documents from goblins and Ministry were long removed, turns out human memory was terribly inconvenient. Had the property of restoring itself. Urgently, urgently needed to finish that potion! But no time.
Dumbledore sadly thought about the quiet calm of personal rooms in the International Confederation of Wizards building. Alas, currently unreachable. He approached the fireplace, tossed a pinch of Floo powder and leaned down:
"Fletcher, you home? Have an assignment... Yes, let's meet. Usual place."
A couple minutes later Fawkes transported the school's headmaster quite far from Scotland.
***
"Excellently done, Harry," Snape praised. Internally surprised how pleasant it turned out—being proud of his student and... relative.
"I didn't even expect that," Flitwick giggled. "Your acting could give even Severus a run for his money."
"I almost cried when you mentioned your mum," Hermione confessed, turning to Harry and blushing slightly. "And Ron's now totally sure someone kidnapped Dumbledore and is walking around on Polyjuice."
"But he doesn't drink anything every hour! Would've shown during lessons long ago!" Harry protested.
"He says maybe it's an improved potion. And... sorry, sir, but he's suspecting you again."
"Like I'm the only capable potions master in all England," Snape snorted.
"Ah... isn't that true?"
"What nonsense, Miss Granger. I know at least three who have interesting ideas. And two dozen who can brew quite complex things decently. Otherwise St. Mungo's wouldn't have released me." He smirked, remembering the almost epic first contact with Smethwyck. Caught Harry's answering smile. "There should be a decent Master working there, you think?"
Granger nodded thoughtfully. How hadn't she thought of that? Snape continued.
"So there are two there. And all my graduates, imagine, are quite capable of brewing more-or-less decent basic compositions. What, you think I've scared students for thirteen years for nothing?"
"Don't believe anyone brews better than you," a smiling Harry declared. Snape skeptically arched his brow and grimaced.
"Flattery from Harry Potter is exactly what was catastrophically lacking in my life. I'm a scientist, inventor if you will." He shifted his gaze from Granger to Harry. "And you, I think, still acted too childishly with the headmaster."
"Isn't that what he expects from me? I was a naive, enthusiastic boy. Most importantly, he didn't even think of asking such questions to anyone except the headmaster himself! Only he can solve them."
"Now that's good. I think Albus still feels himself the arbiter of your fate and person number one in Harry Potter's hierarchy. Yes, directness played in your favor. It's impossible not to believe in it. But the tears..."
"That was a wonderful addition to the image, Severus." Flitwick even clapped a couple times, portraying applauding Harry. "And I won't ask how you managed it. Just say you played your part brilliantly."
Harry basked in recognition from the people most important to him. Thanks to the magnificent scene he'd staged yesterday at the headmaster's, everyone sided with the "poor orphan." Even Dumbledore himself, though grinding his teeth. Public opinion was such a wind—definitely not worth spitting against!
Operation "Return Property to Harry Potter" had begun successfully.
There were several main reasons. First, the conspirators wanted a place they could be but outsiders couldn't access. Where nobody would detect them. And if detected, couldn't say anything against.
Second, should distract the headmaster's attention from serious suspicions and, God forbid, Horcrux research—which by legend still resided in Potter. Since the headmaster was no fool, had to distract him with something serious enough. Inflating the orphan's house story, moreover in Bones's presence—seemed Luck herself was helping them!—fit perfectly. Plus Madam Sprout wouldn't let the headmaster off now...
Third, they needed a reason working in the house where so much remained under-examined and under-explored! One of the few artifact-maker laboratories preserved in magical Britain beckoned like they were all children.
Harry, by the way, while suffering in the headmaster's office, had imagined his mum's laboratory section. How he could've seen as a toddler how she worked there, talking with his father... Tears came instantly. Dried just as fast when he imagined working there with Snape. And Flitwick, and Hermione... The emotional range was perfect. At least he didn't smoke like before. Mental practices were something.
Snape, as almost-confirmed unofficial Potter guardian from Dumbledore's own submission, could quite appear there to help the boy with "minor household problems."
They'd calculated Dumbledore still wouldn't destroy much. Unprofitable for him. And if anything, the headmaster would either have to deal with the house himself or renounce guardianship. Most likely he'd choose the first option—the second much more complicated. Then he could work beautifully at school without him. Thankfully contact between houses was finally found thanks to the headmaster's own elective—and nobody to blame but himself for that.
***
Result—everyone was densely occupied with their own business. Harry, finishing helping Snape with the antidote to the respected headmaster's latest order, focused on charms with Hermione and Flitwick. Snape himself started communicating somewhat closer with McGonagall. Felt much greater disposition toward her after her protest in the headmaster's office. A woman with conscience could be helped.
And how grateful Minerva herself was to her former student! Finally appreciating the completely Gryffindor nobility he'd shown! He never once mentioned the old (and there was plenty). He arranged her conversation with Potter, resulting in Harry forgiving her. He finally helped restore her remaining self-respect by listing all the business she'd been occupied with then.
Result was not only the Transfiguration professor's changed opinion about her colleague, but the declaration she carried into Albus's office. Minerva had prepared for long persuasion. But not finding the boss in place, cowardly left the parchment on the desk and fled, barely noticing outside the window a small fire spot of Fawkes waving wings.
Ron Weasley had prepared watching the headmaster himself. But quickly got doubled sobering charms to the head from best friends. And... agreed with their arguments. Yeah, no point sticking himself in dangerous places while his own protection was unclear. Or rather, completely nonexistent. Sat now in Runes office, laboring over embroidery. His pricked fingers and gloomy appearance soon started raising questions from roommates. True, Harry quickly and successfully distracted each time.
Dumbledore, finally obtaining a small amount of Muggle explosives sufficient for collapsing a small roof piece, dispatched Fletcher "on business." He returned spreading his hands—never saw his target.
Rushing to Godric's Hollow personally, the headmaster himself barely found the right house. Upon inspection saw all his "guards" and traps were untouched. Had to carefully collect all this. In the correct sequence. Otherwise nothing would help even him.
He spent a couple nights searching his own notes. Then as many on calculations since part of the notes never turned up. Finally, leaving his educational establishment to Minerva and Pomona Sprout (shouldn't have criticized him about guardianship!), spent two days removing, untangling and collecting arranged artifacts.
Yes, can't trust this to anyone, he thought. Don't think I even worked this much with Flamel.
But he'd get back at them... Already started by shifting part of Minerva's duties to Pomona despite the latter's weak protests.
***
"My boy," Albus addressed the flinching Lupin. "You can escort Harry to Godric's Hollow and tell him everything correctly?.."
After two hours of most detailed instruction, Lupin felt he'd memorized everything he should tell Harry. What to draw his attention to. Most importantly, mustn't let Snape interfere. Now allowed asking questions.
...Of course Severus would go with his student... No, impossible preventing this... Yes, he, Albus, admitted he'd been wrong asking Snape to work with the boy. He'd acquired some influence over him. Harry needed protecting from that.
And if his father's friend handled this, both he, Albus Dumbledore, and of course Harry—who'd definitely appreciate it, if not immediately—would be grateful. How happy deceased James would be, rest his soul!..
When the Defense professor left with somewhat glassy gaze, Albus rubbed his hands with satisfaction. Rewarded himself with the best tea variety and most wonderful sweets from Fortescue's. Deserved it. Put in lots of effort. He blissed out remembering the just-conducted conversation. All anchors placed correctly. Program literally laid into Lupin's head—he'd execute it whatever it took.
So... Now needed summoning Snape. Giving him orders in the key that he absolutely not interfere with Lupin. Perhaps couldn't think of anything better to thoroughly enrage the potions master. And he'd delight Sprout at the very last moment when she'd have no time doing anything—resulting in her naturally striving to return to her greenhouses as fast as possible.
He pondered whether sending Minerva with them too. But decided that would be overkill. Sent a house-elf to the dungeons. Too lazy getting up and going to the fireplace. Angering Severus was so tempting—he became so manageable!
***
Snape played his part before the headmaster no worse than Harry. Only difference—no witnesses. The conclusions were simple. He should blow up at Lupin (with great pleasure!). Growl at Sprout and Potter—fine, they'd understand. Though... shouldn't he warn Pomona beforehand? And... What else? He had a feeling he was missing something.
Needed relaxing and distracting.
He took a basket and headed to the greenhouses. Though new ingredients weren't particularly needed yet, why not take some? Let them lie under stasis. "Stock doesn't stretch the pocket," he remembered Dolohov's eternal saying. The Russian émigré was a tough teacher but fair. Most importantly, had to search for another such lover of breaking all written and unwritten rules in England. Such a pity this bright brilliant mind would now perish in Azkaban...
Snape sighed. Unknown what the former... colleagues had turned into now. Weakened and desperate, or turned into dangerous beasts? Harry had recently thrown him an interesting thought about a potion that could become an antidote to dementors. Severus really wanted to work on this. But instead had to deal with nonsense like performances before the headmaster, escorting Potter to his house and bickering with Lupin...
Irritation unexpectedly became very bright. Snape involuntarily slowed. Shouldn't show it to Sprout. The wonderful woman was too perceptive and knew him too well. He didn't want to worry her. So stood a bit, calming his breathing. Only after achieving complete internal equilibrium entered the greenhouses.
Pomona, as always, sighed. After which treated him to tea with her favorite cinnamon buns. So he could skip dinner and spend that time much more usefully. Which he did. After half an hour's work, he found not even a trace of potions in his blood. But after that irritation attack understood that Dumbledore had still affected him. Though unclear how.
He sat and thought. How useful a Pensieve would be now—standing at his house meanwhile... Though he could always go there. At least tonight. After all, he could quite have personal business; he wasn't obligated to report to anyone. Waiting for curfew, he left school and headed quickly toward Hogsmeade.
On the way came another completely extraordinary thought... And immediately disappeared the feeling he was missing something. He quickly wrote it in the Protean-charmed notebook and Apparated.
***
The Ten Bells restaurant greeted him with a calm hum of voices mixed with unobtrusive music and fairly pleasant if sharp smells. Wizard cafés and other places mages usually frequented absolutely didn't suit this meeting. Only the Muggle world and crowds where so easy to disappear.
He was sure the headmaster had already asked someone watching him. So he came here after a triple Apparition and fifteen-minute bus ride (unpleasant but much better than the Knight Bus). He'd spotted and reserved a table by the doors beforehand. Everyone passed by, glances sliding, not noticing. People preoccupied with their own business hurrying to their tables and those waiting. Meanwhile he observed. If anything, he knew how to recognize wizards among Muggles. And slipping onto the street was easy as pie.
After someone had clearly visited his house, breaking all his intricate protections to Mordred but disturbing practically nothing inside, had to be doubly—no, triply—more careful.
The table was already occupied. So she'd come early. Good thing he hadn't changed his appearance. Otherwise he would've wasted too much time on explanations. If managing cooperation—excellent. If not—nobody had restored memory after his Obliviate yet. And he knew to remove pieces carefully. Nobody had suffered so far.
"Severus Snape?" A bright curvy blonde in green nearly choked on dessert.
Rita wanted to rub her own eyes. She'd counted on meeting this person least of all. Hadn't even dreamed... Such a personality! She'd do anything now not to release him from her professionally sharpened claws. True, if he didn't tear them off... along with her head.
Rita had always been incredibly attracted to dangerous men. And this one, even back in school when he was just a snotty kid, emanated something. Special. How many times she'd tried gaining his attention then. But where could she, an underclassman, compete with Gryffindor's red-haired star! Though now she could look... and try, if everything went right.
Professional instinct reported something completely extraordinary awaited her. Though... What could be more extraordinary than meeting Severus Snape at a Muggle restaurant?
Only the real reason for this meeting, instinct reported. Rita tried quickly shutting off all unnecessary emotions.
"I have a gift for you, Rita," Snape delivered, greeting her with one nod.
"Why me?"
"You know how to present facts so they stick even in the dullest individuals' heads. You don't suffer reverence for any significant figures. You have the largest readership. That's enough?"
"Mmm..." she drawled, covering her eyes like evaluating a delicacy. "Severus Snape giving me compliments? That's damn pleasant. Can you repeat?"
"Sure? Besides, I'm just reporting facts you already know."
"And what does Professor Snape need from me?"
"More like you from me. You've always been interested in hot information?"
"Well if YOU say it's hot, then... intrigued," Rita's eyes flashed. "What will I owe and why do you need this?"
"Won't believe it—nothing except agreement to careful memory erasure about one thing: who you learned this from."
Rita drummed fingers on the table so the pause wouldn't seem too long. He could've quite come under Polyjuice if just wanting to pass information. So there was something else... And into this elusive something needed sinking teeth and claws. Because it was very, very promising!
"Maybe an oath? You'll be surprised, but I quite value the little that's in my skull."
Her companion's right eyebrow arched inimitably.
Not without sarcasm... Perhaps it will be pleasant communicating and useful agreeing, Severus decided, watching intently into gray-green eyes where he could read much. Which he did.
Snape looked at her appraisingly. So much that Rita felt herself blushing like some girl. Only when nails dug into palms from clenching fists did she calm a bit.
"Unbreakable Vow," he declared.
"And you're taking me as an ally."
"After the vow—yes."
Got it! Triumph and predatory gleam in her eyes would've made perhaps even the Dark Lord shudder... Such an ally wouldn't hurt us all, Severus decided.
He stood and tossed a Muggle bill on the table. Again causing Rita's interest—he hadn't ordered anything himself. Took her arm. Now they were walking down a street crowded despite the night hour.
"Where are we heading?"
"A small quiet town called Little Whinging. If you don't mind, around that corner I'll Apparate us."
"This is connected with?.."
"I'll show you the place where Dumbledore supposedly hid Harry Potter. But first the vow."
"Will there be someone to seal it?"
Instead of answering, Apparition's vortex spun her. Rita came to already in a half-dark park. Fortunately Miss Skeeter tolerated this transportation method decently. At least much better than most wizards she knew.
Snape appreciated that.
He nodded to some unfamiliar short mage waiting here sitting on a bench and got to business. She could only repeat the vow's words after him. When ritual magic wrapped their hands with glowing bracelets, Rita thought: How beautiful... and almost symbolic. But Merlin! What am I getting into? Too late backing out though. Before she could blink, the unfamiliar wizard vanished. Only Snape remained.
"Well, will you finally tell me?"
"For now, you should visit Godric's Hollow January thirtieth. Second half of the day, to be precise."
"Is this connected with Harry Potter?"
"Yes, but not only. You'll like it."
"I... can get an interview with him?"
"Unlikely but possible. I'll try to provide it. Just not long. Oh by the way, don't forget somehow working into your questions about his debt to save the magical world."
"What? What debt?!"
"Especially about the debt. The rest later. You remembered," Snape stated and Apparated.
"Damn Slytherin," Rita hissed so even Slytherin's Basilisk, if alive, would've considered conversing with her.
Liquid fire poured through her veins. Thin nostrils quivered. She sensed a scandalous sensation like a hound sensed game. And that changed everything!