Chapter 14 — The Greasy Professor and the Parents' Past
Hagrid was greatly startled; all three fixed their eyes on him. Seeing his reaction, how could they not know he was in the know?
Harry cried, "So you do know, Brother!"
Hagrid took a hot sip of tea and weighed his words. "Harry, that was a long time ago. Who told you this?"
Ron jumped in. "No one. We figured it out after Harry and Professor Snape traded insults."
"Pfft!"
Hagrid sprayed a mouthful of tea like a sun-shower; in the slanting light a rainbow appeared.
Catching his breath, he drank again to steady himself. "Harry, what did you call Snape?"
"Harry said the cow's backside connects to Professor Snape's mouth."
"Pfft!"
Another sun-shower; a second rainbow. The two arced into a single neon band.
Fearing Ron would say something even worse, Hagrid put down the cup, worried. "Harry, you shouldn't trade insults with Snape. That's at least fifty points off for Gryffindor."
"No—that's what puzzles us," Hermione shook her head. "After Harry spoke his parents' names, Professor Snape suddenly stopped being angry and didn't dock points."
Hagrid mused, "Spoke the names? Mm… oh… so that's it…"
Harry had no patience for this. "Brother Hagrid, please—tell me the story between my parents and Snape."
He pressed; Hagrid stayed cautious, dodging and saying he didn't want to bring it up. Harry kept at it for quite a while but got nothing.
Suddenly Hermione said, "Fine, Hagrid, then let's change the question."
Cornered and flustered, Hagrid relaxed at that. "That's much better. Anything but that."
"What was Professor Snape's relationship with Harry's mother?"
Hagrid leapt up, nearly taking the roof with him. "How d'you know!"
"Knew it!" Hermione clapped and propped her hands on her hips, pleased. "You kept muttering 'the name'—I guessed!"
"Please don't talk in riddles, Big Sister," Harry said. "Say it, quick!"
"Harry, strictly speaking, you should call your mother Lily Potter."
The words struck like a staff blow, clearing Harry's fog; all his knots came undone.
Different lands, different customs. In England, a lady took her husband's surname after marriage; in Song China, though one preached harmony, a woman kept the name her parents gave.
Pan Jinlian married into the Wu family and never became "Wu Jinlian"; outsiders simply called her "Madam Wu."
With that sorted, Harry jumped up, fury blazing. "Damn it! That greasy, slick scoundrel dared pine for my mum!
"If I don't chop him to mince, I'm not fit to be a son!"
He had the watermelon knife half drawn. "Wait—Harry!" Hagrid cried.
"If you're going to talk me down, don't," Harry snapped. "My eyes will know it's you, Brother, but my blade won't."
Seeing his resolve, Hagrid dared not withhold. "All right… Harry, you have to know: before fifth year, Lily and Snape were the best of friends.
"Then they suddenly went their separate ways. James and Lily grew closer… and after graduation, they married.
"Mind you, that's only the broad strokes. I don't know the details."
Hermione and Ron traded looks—so Snape was the unlucky one. Harry scratched his head; the killing aura ebbed and the knife slid back.
With the three quiet, Hagrid relaxed and smiled. "Easy, Harry. Snape's a nasty piece of work, sure—but he won't truly hurt you."
Harry sighed. "If Brother says so, how can I not believe it."
He reached for the kettle and saw a clipping under the warmer—an article from the Daily Prophet. He picked it up.
Gringotts had been broken into at the end of July; fortunately the vault's contents had already been removed, preserving Gringotts' ironclad reputation.
He thought of Gringotts: wards by the thousand, dragons for guards, goblins every three paces and wizards every five—and someone still broke in?
He studied the photo. The looted vault bore the plaque "713"—the very vault where Hagrid had fetched the gray pouch.
Harry's heart lurched. Had the thief come right after they left?
He raised the clipping. "Brother Hagrid—what did you take that day? Why's someone after it?"
Hagrid stared, more flustered than ever. He'd have preferred questions about Harry's parents.
"Harry, I absolutely can't say!"
"You're still hiding it? A thief doesn't leave empty-handed—he'll come to Hogwarts!"
Ron and Hermione peered at the clipping and cried too, "Hagrid, is the thing the thief wants at Hogwarts?"
Pressed on all sides, Hagrid averted his gaze. "Now, now—no one can break into Hogwarts.
"Not even You-Know-Who. Don't forget—Professor Dumbledore's here."
Ron and Hermione took comfort in that; Harry didn't. "If he can break Gringotts, he's got the skills and dark magic.
"We're in the light; he's in the dark; there are hundreds of us—how can Dumbledore shield everyone?"
Sharp words like blades—Hagrid couldn't parry them. With Hermione having caught his slip earlier and now Harry finding the article, the more he said, the worse it got. He stood and shooed them out.
"All right—the professors will worry about this. You lot should get back to the castle for supper!"
He slammed the oak door.
On the path back, Harry thought: the article was two months old—likely the thief had already slipped in and was biding his time somewhere in Hogwarts.
When you're famous, trouble finds you first. If disaster comes, it'll come for me.
Harry grew more alert. Suddenly he veered toward the classroom building.
"Harry, where are you going?" Hermione called. "Aren't you eating?"
"You two go. I need to see Professor Flitwick!"
A thief at Gringotts sets the scarred lad on edge. Miles away or not, Hogwarts will be his stage. He hasn't learned killer curses; in close quarters a short blade beats spells. Find Professor Flitwick; forge a weapon for defense. To know more—next time.
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