Harry stared wide-eyed at Professor Flitwick: he had managed to charm his relatives so completely from the very first phrases that they didn't even scold them for being late. Now that's magic... The Dean of Ravenclaw chatted pleasantly with his uncle and aunt, praising him, Harry, for his curiosity and desire to study. He said he was confident that "the boy will definitely make something of himself" because he was "incredibly talented," and that he agreed to free lessons this summer—when he had time, of course. Dudley even turned slightly green, apparently from sympathy for his cousin.
After the half-goblin took his leave, Uncle Vernon took Harry aside, while Aunt Petunia went to put her beloved son to bed: he kept trying to break through to his brother. She finally suppressed his resistance with words that his cousin would definitely tell him everything about the summer lessons with "that amusing little man." Harry, catching this with half an ear, chuckled to himself: now, knowing Flitwick a bit better, he understood perfectly well that the word "amusing" applied to him least of all...
Everything on the desk in his uncle's office was exactly as it had been before his departure... Harry began his story, which dragged on past midnight due to the many questions Dursley asked him. By the way, he couldn't answer all of them. Tell me, how could he have known which insurance companies the bank works with? How is authenti... uncle, what kind of beast is that anyway? Oh, the authenticity of the contract... Can you say that word again? Thanks.
And he had also somehow missed what interest rates exist on deposits... Although, it seems, he asked for the maximum interest rate on the account being opened, but did the goblins agree to it? And where do they invest?.. As if they told him everything, yeah right. They even tried to threaten him! And anyway, uncle should have gone with him...
And Mr. Dursley, mentally cursing the goblins, kept asking and asking... Reluctantly, but gradually leaning toward the same idea as his nephew. Aunt Petunia looked in several times and suggested they postpone the conversation until morning, saying it's better to deal with money "with a fresh head." Harry thought—what difference does it make, his head is such a mess right now anyway! Though a very tasty one: he had reached a treasure trove of important and necessary information and didn't know what to grab—he needed everything at once! So there would be a lot to organize, which meant it would take a long time. And his head being fresh... he hoped it would be, of course, but unlikely anytime soon.
Uncle suddenly changed the subject:
"You know what you should definitely learn from that professor of yours?"
"Charms, of course. And he's also a specialist in due..."
"Not related to magic."
"What do you mean?" Harry was so surprised he even perked up a bit.
"You should learn to behave like he does. Harry, if you can make people feel comfortable around you like that, then... That's also a kind of protection, understand?"
"But for some reason it doesn't work on me," he shrugged. "Uncle, Fli... Professor Flitwick offered to become his apprentice, but I had doubts and didn't want to answer right away, and besides, for some reason it's easier for me with Snape, even though he..." Harry hesitated and smirked, "you certainly can't call him charming. And kind even less so."
"And yet you'd prefer Snape? Why?"
"I... it seems I understand him. He's... different. There's no double bottom in him. At least as far as I'm concerned. Well, that's how it seems to me... although..." Harry remembered the professor's story about the Prophecy, about his role in everything that happened, about HOW he spoke about it, and firmly added: "I'm sure—he's honest with me. And Flitwick definitely needs something from me, I just feel it. Something very serious, but he's not saying. And... I don't know if I can do it. What if I can't handle it?"
"You should also learn about double bottoms, think about it. Alright, off to bed," Vernon waved his hand and stood up, ushering his nephew out.
Could he have imagined how things would turn out when Harry was little?.. What would he have done if he'd become sensible not now, but several years ago? Most likely, he would have found a guardian among wizards for his nephew. At least, he would have tried. After all, he would have hired someone to teach him or give him a bit of tutoring before school, even if that wasn't much.
And he'd need to take another trip with him to the psychologist, the question of intuition should be ventilated. Remarkable woman, must be said... Thanks to her, even Marge and Petunia are beginning to communicate little by little. A rare intellect, yes. Vernon smiled into his mustache. But he wouldn't tell his wife about that, and his sister would manage without knowing.
***
Severus Snape sat and remembered... And was almost in complete disarray. How could they, two adult experienced mages, fail to do anything worthwhile in two years, even determine what the problem was?!
September ninety-one...
It all began when during the Sorting he saw little Potter. Everything inside twisted as if from a Cruciatus. He couldn't calmly look at this boy: inside rose... fury, and such fury that he could barely restrain himself. Only years of practice and Flitwick's training saved him.
What kind of nonsense was this?.. Of course, he became wary and after the feast spent a sleepless night trying to figure out what was actually happening to him and what was causing it. He drank an antidote and began brewing a couple more, just in case. It didn't help. He ransacked all his belongings. Empty. Examined his own apartments, his office. No-thing.
But when, preparing for the very first lesson, he came to the classroom, he discovered a surprise: almost right above the door hung someone's portrait. Its owner didn't respond, and moreover, the painting was impossible to remove, incinerate and... and so on down the list. Even the improved magical solvent, which he had worked on for almost a month, didn't affect it. Of course, the experienced spy immediately understood what this was and where it came from: the headmaster had sent a spy. Snape shrugged—he never allowed anything inappropriate in the classroom.
Actually, in Hogwarts he generally allowed himself nothing, only his mask operated here. Even in Slytherin. Especially in Slytherin. But his laboratory, office and personal rooms were always sacrosanct—no one had access there except him, with the rarest exceptions. But still he had to call Flitwick, he himself wasn't that good with charms.
The teacher came the very next day under a disillusionment charm—just in case. Naturally, he discovered a couple more carefully disguised "trackers" in the office. And Severus flew off to argue with the headmaster.
The latter artistically blamed everything on the Board of Governors, allegedly terribly worried that children were being taught by a former Death Eater (who are most of them themselves?!), but he removed the nasty thing from the office—after all, the potioneer isn't there particularly often anyway, and only with his Slytherins. He even asked how he had discovered it. No way, if the headmaster doesn't trust him, why should he? Dumbledore, surprisingly, calmly accepted his answer, but apparently in revenge once again trampled all over his corns and reminded him of his debt—saying now he was obliged to watch over Harry Potter and protect him... from everything.
And also to behave toward him with demonstrative hostility... "You're a spy, Severus, and your snakes are watching you, and their parents... If you behave otherwise, they'll simply Avada you someday, quietly, from around a corner. I'm not even talking about what might happen when Voldemort returns. Take care of yourself, my boy, you're necessary for the Order!"
What was this—senility or Jesuitism? Knowing the headmaster, he leaned toward the second. Severus had long dreamed of firmly wringing the headmaster's old neck, but... with such power as that old man had, he couldn't compete, alas. He had checked when he tried to refuse the position of Head of House. And he remembered that lesson well. And they remembered him in St. Mungo's too...
Though the headmaster himself had delivered him there: "an unfortunate accident in the laboratory," of course, and then even tried to claim a life debt... It didn't work, fortunately, since he himself was the threat to that life. But Snape hadn't managed to get an answer to the question of why Dumbledore, being such an unrealistically powerful mage, didn't want to deal with the Lord himself, in all these ten years.
And the old man also loaded him with work, as if he didn't have enough... True, an old parchment with a very interesting recipe migrated to his office library, and it had some other interesting information—in the corner the potioneer discovered traces of invisible ink. Looks like he'd have to spend half his salary on ingredients again. But if everything works out, he might manage to improve the potion—he noticed a couple of possibilities on the first reading of the scroll.
Decided: he would hiss at the unfortunate Potter (though the boy didn't look unfortunate at all), pick on him at least twice per lesson and every time he saw him, and... that was enough for him. Praise Merlin, he lived in the dungeons, so he would encounter "the object" minimally. After all, what else could he do?
What awaited the potioneer in the not-so-distant future, he couldn't even imagine at that moment. Nor that they would assign him additional corridor patrols, starting right with those near Gryffindor Tower. And he would go, cursing the old provocateur to hell and back and avoiding meetings with young Gryffindors by all means available to him.
***
Severus's first day off began with tea with an old friend. And, of course, discussing the past week. Particularly, the new celebrity and everything connected with it. Snape grimaced but answered. Flitwick was surprised but saw: his friend was basically cornered from all sides. They needed to find the source of the influence and remove it or at least weaken it, otherwise Severus would burn out for nothing.
"Severus, my friend... has our headmaster given you anything or asked you to keep something?"
"No... What makes you think Dumbledore keeps me instead of a safe?"
"And didn't ask you about anything?"
"As always, to prepare one potion... Here are the notes," he handed him a dilapidated, nearly crumbling parchment. "Careful, it's enchanted, otherwise it would have fallen apart long ago..."
"Enchanted, you say? And did you check the pages for foreign substances? Charms?"
"When I took this in my hands, my fingers stung a bit. But if I conduct my tests, nothing will remain of it."
"What about copying it?"
"The headmaster said I must return it..."
"To Flamel? Think he needs his old blotting paper?"
"Maybe to some collector?"
"Did the headmaster say he borrowed it or that it's his property?"
Snape just shrugged. He wasn't going to be responsible for damage or loss of a rarity.
"Think it's Flamel's work?"
"At least the parchment. To make an impregnation so that a talented and experienced potioneer like you wouldn't notice, few can do. Fortunately, our headmaster isn't among them. And anyone could have written the recipe."
"Wearing gloves."
"Undoubtedly."
"Geminio. I'll copy it from the duplicate. But are you sure that?.."
"What else could it be? As far as I know you, you don't drink tea in his office. And you wouldn't take amulets from him yourself, and he wouldn't give them to you either. Unless the house-elves substitute something unnoticed."
"What would they substitute in my things?"
"I'm aware. But there is an influence, you understood that perfectly yourself."
"And how."
"Did you track the time? Didn't spend more time than usual in his office?"
"As usual... Although when I entered, he wasn't there for quite a long time, about ten minutes."
"Well there you go, now it's clear. He was there, he was... Admit it, did you stare at his whirligigs long?"
Severus sighed. He almost always managed to stop his gaze on books, but last time there was nothing interesting there... He had to examine the office, nowhere to go. Yes, most likely, at some point he dropped out of reality and got himself some bookmarks. It would be difficult to remove them, Albus knew how to set them in a particularly tenacious way, sometimes it took him and Filius a couple of months to finally get rid of them.
"Yes, here," Flitwick handed him a small box. "Take it, it'll come in handy. Works as universal protection, weakening the reaction to potions and charms affecting personality. It also dampens mental bookmarks, partially."
"Too expensive and rare a thing, I'll never be able to repay you," Snape examined the thin twisted bracelet lying in the box.
"I'm not giving it to you, I'm lending it," his friend smirked. "You'll return it when we figure out all this nastiness. The main thing is, you can be sure no one will detect it. At least, no one in Europe can do it. My masterpiece," he contentedly stroked his beard, "and let me see what's hung on you now..."
He moved a pendant with a yellowish stone around Severus for a minute: it either darkened or filled with an unpleasant acid-green color.
"Wow. Even wow-wow, Severus... Sit down, I'll run to my tower. And put the bracelet on right now. One good thing, your sleeves are the right length..."
"Maybe I should come with you?"
"No need, I'll be quick."
Flitwick returned out of breath, and only then did Snape understand how seriously he was in trouble. The half-goblin wouldn't just run like that, that's for sure.
"I can't remove all this quickly, but here, stick this modest pin in your collar, it will neutralize some things. A snake, it'll suit you... And it would be better to wear it without removing it."
"Is it all that bad?"
"I can't handle it. Or rather, not immediately. I'll need to make one order, then..."
Several days later...
"And imagine what the old geezer has twisted onto the boy?"
"Poor child, what did he do to deserve that?"
"What did you do to deserve it, that's what I'm interested in... And with the child, definitely not everything is so simple. He has, at minimum, underdevelopment of his magical core... And very, very strange behavior, he's scared of almost everyone..."
"What does Dumbledore want from me at all, for me to accidentally kill Potter or what? Why would he need that?"
"I think he simply couldn't calculate the complex effect on you... The Mark, Severus, the Mark. It resonates with the headmaster's bookmarks and the potion for some reason precisely at the moment when Potter appears near you. After all, when he's not nearby, you speak about him quite calmly. But there could be other options, like tempering the nerves of the future Hero or even what you suggested—getting rid of two mages at once, too strong and specific to be fully controlled."
"Potter's a strong mage?"
"The scar, Severus. It emanates, but completely unlike your Mark. And our headmaster is a great master at covering tracks."
"And haven't you noticed McGonagall's strange behavior? It seems she wasn't so indifferent to her House before, at least she looked after the first-years. And now everything's going any which way with them. They're late to classes. They get lost in corridors. Haven't you noticed?"
Flitwick shook his head. All this added up to a not-too-pleasant picture.
"The headmaster asked me for some incomprehensible reason to show delight at the sight of Potter, saying the boy feels so insecure, this should support him. Pfft. Well, I showed it, of course, what does it cost me... Squeaked once and supposedly fell from my podium."
"Spectacular. Too bad I didn't see it."
"Should I demonstrate? Or will that console you?" when kind Flitwick's eyes sparkled like that, it was better to keep quiet. "Only Potter reacted completely differently than expected. Well, I somehow wasn't planning to worry about losing authority in the eyes of 'the Boy-Who-Lived himself,' I have enough reasons for concern without that—you, for example."
When they discussed all these oddities, they came to one conclusion: the boy needed to be looked at more closely. And what could be better than detention?
Of course, Snape arranged it. Having put the child to sleep, they examined him by all available safe methods, but found only some incomprehensible fragments. Snape already wanted to remove them, but his partner stopped him. It was unknown what was on the other end...
And Harry thought he was scrubbing cauldrons all that time. He was scrubbing, of course... one, the last one. Fountaining with anger almost as much as Snape, forced to watch over him. What was interesting was that while the boy slept, the potioneer's bookmarks didn't work...
All year they observed, protected, supported. However, the Gryffindor trio's idiotic search for information about Flamel killed them both. Morally, but completely. Then they decided to seek the opportunity as inconspicuously as possible, little by little, gradually, but still to develop the child...
That took them almost the entire summer.
And the next year Potter received a bunch of detentions, during which both professors taught him, telling him about the wizarding world, starting from the very basics: about its features and history, about his family, things, including the glasses that were not quite ordinary... they even showed and explained some defense techniques. Flitwick masterfully changed the sound of their voices, and Snape after each lesson erased memories of them as personalities and set up a block so that the boy, remembering the knowledge given to him like a dream, wouldn't feel the slightest desire to share it with anyone.
A month passed. Another, a third... Potter continued to be a dunderhead, more and more as time went on. And then he suddenly delivered a "speech" in Parseltongue—now that's something they definitely weren't planning to teach him. Snape suggested they might have inadvertently activated something, and they unanimously decided that classes should be stopped for now.
By winter the headmaster had dumped new recipes on the potioneer with notes "preferably faster" and "urgent," and he had no time for Potter. He only dreamed of catching up on sleep. Instead, he had to urgently prepare potions for those lying in the hospital wing... And then for Potter, who ended up there as well. As if there was any doubt.
So after the school finally emptied for summer vacation, the potioneer peacefully fell asleep and slept for about six hundred minutes, which even the headmaster didn't interfere with. Indeed, lately his spy had looked not like the Terror of the Dungeons, but like a ghost of those very dungeons... And useful people must be protected, if, of course, such an opportunity arises. And Dumbledore decided that if he would disturb Snape this summer, it would be for a very serious reason. Let the boy rest, his strength and talent would still be needed.
***
July ninety-three...
"Still, I'm definitely a lucky one," thought Harry, thanking Professor Flitwick for the reusable portal he'd made. A thin chain fit snugly around his wrist and was almost invisible. To move, it was enough to grasp and squeeze it with your fingers. Convenient!
He almost did it right away as soon as he said goodbye to the Charms professor, he was so impatient... he didn't even know himself what more—to ask Snape a couple of questions or to burrow into his library.
"Wait... But he might be busy, might have other plans—and here I'll drop in like a bolt from the blue. I should arrange something somehow. Ugh, forgot again, there's a notebook!"
By the end of the week, Severus Snape was already used to the fact that every morning his notebook warmed up and began to glow, after which he answered Potter's greeting, and in a couple of minutes the boy dropped in on him personally, armed with Muggle notebooks and pens with pencils, and began loading him with questions that sometimes made his mind boggle.
And when that very mind returned, no less stunning ideas began to come to it, which needed to be urgently written down, and if there was the slightest possibility, implemented. And he went to his office or laboratory, and Potter burrowed into books. And didn't bother him until he came out himself. But then... he'd get out his notes, and it would begin. But how interesting it was with him!
And the boy behaved quite politely and completely calmly. Yes, he was a completely different personality from that Potter whom he had known these two nightmarish years. Besides everything, the boy brought all sorts of tasty treats with him (could it be Petunia?), and also supplied him with stationery that was much more convenient than those stupid parchments. Paper isn't durable? So impregnate it. Doesn't hold charms? Work on it, aren't you mages? Why wizards still suffered with nonsense, calling it tradition, Severus no longer understood...
He regretted only one thing: his colleague had left for Europe and sharing many news items with him, most of them wonderful, wasn't yet possible. But his search depended on... almost everything. And meanwhile he was working with Harry on building a labyrinth with obstacles as a gift for those wishing to rummage in his consciousness. It turned out... spectacular, he even liked it himself. Especially since after Harry's stories, Snape watched Muggle science fiction and also settled some characters in his own labyrinths.
Indeed, he and Potter, one could say, arranged a small competition, something like "whose monsters are more monstrous." Excellent training! He got so used to it that the day when Harry didn't come (of course, having warned that he was going with his uncle to Gringotts), seemed strangely empty and long to him, despite the fact that he, of course, found enough activities for himself, and by evening would have been quite willing to extend the "vacation from Potter" for a couple of days. But when the boy finally deigned to write in the damned notebook that they had returned and everything was fine, it was as if a weight had lifted from his soul.