Severus only checked in on the Brat Who Caused Uproars once more in the Infirmary, on Saturday afternoon. Nott and Bullstrode were in attendance and the three of them seemed to be getting along well, which was a surprise. From what he could tell, Theodore Nott was intelligent, cultured and soft-spoken, whereas Miss Bullstrode was his opposite in almost every way. And yet . . . both seemed enamoured of the Brat Who Lived Again enough to put aside their own differences in his favor.
Curious.
After that, he continued his search for the Bloody Baron, questioning the other castle ghosts, but none of them had any idea where the Baron had got to either. Thus, Severus and the rest of the staff spent too much time running interference with Peeves, now that the Baron was absent - forever? he wondered. Surely not! - and the rest of his weekend was spent grading and assigning detentions to students who used Peeves as an excuse for their own antics.
He was surprised when the Brat showed up at his office on Sunday night.
"What are you doing out of bed?" Severus asked immediately, scanning the boy without appearing to look up from his grading. Potter was pale and peaky, still, but upright, which was an improvement.
"Detention, sir. I missed last night."
Severus rolled his eyes. Merlin, protect us. "Of course you did," he said with a sneer. "You were rather incapacitated."
The Brat held his ground. "But I have it for a week, sir, you said. And I'm feeling better now. Madam Pomfrey let me out."
"And what were her instructions when she did?"
Potter had the grace to look abashed. "That I should check in with her tomorrow."
"And?"
A sigh. "And that I should go to bed upon my release."
Severus waited . . . waited . . .
"Immediately."
"Indeed." Severus lifted his gaze at last. "Is it really so difficult to obey simple directives, Potter?"
"No, sir."
"I beg to differ. You have consistently gone against the advice and requirements of Madam Pomfrey and myself, often to your own detriment, I might add. I am curious as to your reasoning. Is it just that you consider yourself above the rules? Or do you truly have some sort of aberrant mind that the very concept of doing what you're told does not even occur to you?"
The boy set his jaw, with that slight lift to it that Severus had seen on his first day, a defensive maneuver, to be sure, but was there something more to it? "I follow the rules."
"When it suits you."
Seemed the Brat had no answer to that. In fact, he looked away, nibbling on his lower lip.
Now they were getting somewhere. Where, Severus had no clue, but he would find out, oh yes. Regarding the boy through narrowed eyes, he considered what to do with him. Clearly there was a pattern to the Brat's regular dismissal of the edicts of others, and Severus would need to determine what that was, precisely. "For this evening's detention, I require an essay of no less than two feet, due tomorrow night. The essay will contain an explanation from you on which rules you feel it behooves you to follow, and which it does not, citing examples from both Hogwarts and your home in Surrey. You are dismissed."
For the space of three, maybe four heartbeats, Severus was almost sure the Brat Who Confounded Him would protest, or refuse to follow the very simple order to leave, but then Potter nodded, said, "Yes, sir," and escaped the office without looking back.
Severus sighed and went back to his grading.
The next morning's classes were under constant interruption by the unfettered poltergeist, so much so that Dumbledore himself had to step in at least once, when Peeves' antics caused an entire roomful of second year Gryffindors to start hexing each other in an effort to get rid of him, right through the robes he had jerked over all of their heads.
At lunch, Severus kindly hid his smirk over the incident from Minerva, as she was none too pleased about the resulting flurry of feathers and thistle down in her classroom, and had spent more than enough time cleaning up after her class.
An extra special surprise was that Professor Quirrell had canceled all his classes for the day, claiming a bout of flu. Having all the Defense students running about in the halls when everyone else was in class was just this short of the best fun Severus had ever borne witness to on a Monday.
But all that aggravation went out of his head completely when, on the way back to his office before his first afternoon class, Severus at last found the Bloody Baron.
The ghost was hovering just in front of his office door, in fact. He looked . . . less substantial than usual, for the Bloody Baron, though the silver streaks of his blood were brighter than ever.
Severus stepped closer, but stayed slightly out of range of touch. If the Baron had turned . . . well, evil, Severus would not present him with an easy target, at least. He did, however, erect a simple privacy ward, so anything spoken here now would remain between only the two of them.
"Severus Snape," the ghost intoned as it turned to see him. His voice was breathy, almost a whisper, and curiously flat. His eyes were odd, too, dark tunnels with a touch of madness.
"Baron." Severus inclined his head slightly, but did not lower his gaze. "We've been looking for you."
"The boy . . . is he well?"
"By boy, I presume you mean the Potter child." The Bloody Baron nodded, barely, and Severus said, "He fares well enough now. But he lost blood, a lot of it. As well as some memories."
"Ah . . . the fault lies with me. For . . . both of those."
"Does it?" Severus surreptitiously slid his wand into his hand, though what he could do if the ghost really attacked him, he did not know. "How so?"
"I am . . . unsure."
"Funny, that's what Potter said. He remembers you flying through him. . . ."
"I did not . . . fly through him."
"No?"
"I possessed him."
"I see," Severus said, though he did not. He kept his expression carefully blank, and did not lash out as he wanted, but . . . What in the world was going on here? "May I ask why?"
The Baron's face matched his for blankness, though there was a flash of something in his eyes. "He is a Slytherin."
"Yes . . ."
"I did not expect it."
Join the bloody club, Severus thought. "That's not an answer."
"There was no time."
Getting the odd sense he was holding more than one conversation here, Severus said, "No time for what?"
"To aid him . . . in any other way. . . . He is powerful, but weak yet."
Dammit, this was getting him nowhere. "So . . . Potter was in trouble and you possessed him in order to aid him?"
A ghostly sigh toughed his ears, as if the Baron was pleased he had reached the correct conclusion. "He wishes to return," the Baron said in that same oddly flat tone, but there was nonetheless a note of urgency to his next statement. "And we cannot let him."
"Potter?" Severus shook his head, even as the Baron did. "You mean whoever attacked Potter. And someone did attack him, didn't they?"
"Yessss."
"Who?"
"I cannot say."
Severus frowned. What was this, then? "Are you unable to say? That is, whoever attacked the boy . . ."
"Confunded us, yesss. After we blocked or repelled his curses many times." The ghost almost smiled, a sight Severus never wanted to see again, he was sure. "Then we drove him away."
"How?"
"I . . . we . . ." The pale being looked down at his silver-blood covered hands. "There may have been fire."
"Fire."
"Yesss. And . . . a wind. I cannot be sure."
Severus snapped, "I expect it's a bit of a blur, is it?"
"Indeed." The ghost did not appear taken aback at all, but almost . . . repentant. "I had to Obliviate him, you understand."
"The boy."
"Yesssss. I was in control . . . he would have . . ."
"Dealt poorly with the aftermath." Severus sighed and barely refrained from rubbing at his temples in annoyance. He had no doubt at all that if the Brat had known he had been possessed by a ghost, even if it was to help him fight off an attacker, he would have caused even more of a scene. And likely exacerbated the damage already done to him by the "many curses" thrown at him. "And the wound?"
"I did not mean to leave it behind."
"It was yours? You left your own wound on him when you left his body?"
"It was not my intent." The Baron twisted his hands around, so Severus could see the blood on them. "But I have . . . not done such a thing before. He has recovered, you say?"
"He has. Although, not the memories." He had another way to get at them, but he had not wanted to use it. Not without Dumbledore's permission, at any rate.
The ghost's mouth pressed into a thin line. "Leave them be. He will not do well with that, Severus Snape."
Severus growled, "He will be attacked again and again, unless we discover who was behind this."
The Bloody Baron nodded tiredly. "He will. But . . . let me . . . speak to him first."
"Speak to him? That is all?"
"I do not like this gap in my knowledge," the Baron admitted. "But he is a Slytherin . . . I will not cause him further harm."
Severus regarded him for a long time, judging the verity of his claim. He had known the Bloody Baron a very long time, since Severus had been a child here, in fact, and he had never known the ghost to do anything remotely anti-Slytherin. And though he was usually taciturn, the Baron was not known for saying things he did not mean. "Very well. I should like to be present for this discussion, however."
The Bloody Baron nodded and started to fade backwards, down the corridor.
Severus halted him with a, "Peeves has been quite the troublemaker while you've been away."
The expression on the Bloody Baron's face shifted so quickly that Severus had to keep himself from taking a step back in fear. Rage and a promise of vengeance to come carved into the translucent form like wire. "I was . . . recovering, as well. I shall see to Peeves."
With that, he vanished entirely.
Severus went to the Headmaster immediately, and made a report.
That evening, the Brat showed up on time, with a scroll of parchment that he handed over without a word. His gaze remained on his feet.
Severus put down the scroll. "In my classroom is a bucket of murtlap tentacles which need to be pickled. First, you will cut them in the way specified by my written instructions, and then place them in the vat of brine. Any questions?"
"No, sir."
"Did you check in with Madam Pomfrey today?" He already knew the answer, having received a confirmation from Poppy, but he wanted the boy to acknowledge his own success.
"Yes, sir."
"Good. Now go."
The boy lifted his head for a brief look, then scampered into the classroom. Severus scooped up the scroll and followed after him, to make sure the Brat had no problems deciphering his instructions. The beetles had been done very well, so he had little concern that the boy could do this one, too. Keeping one ear tuned to the sound of precise slicing, Severus unraveled the scroll and read through it quickly, once, and then more thoroughly a second time.
The first thing that occurred to him was that the boy had to learn better penmanship and soon, or it was going to drive Severus quite mad to have to read any essays he turned in. His second though was that he was . . . pleased the boy had put in an honest effort. So many children did not, when their work was for detention. Giving almost three feet of examples and counter examples of his rules-abiding behavior, as well as his reasons for doing so when he understood them, Potter had shown, too, that he had a decent head on his shoulders and was not a complete waste of breath, unlike his father.
Some of the examples of rules Potter did not respect or follow, however, drawn almost entirely from his aunt and uncle's domain, took his breath away.
Apparently, in his home, Potter was expected to do everything he was told, up to and including tasks that put him in the way of serious physical harm, to accept any kind of abuse as his due, and to agree with every nasty and illogical thing he was told about himself, his parents and magic in general.
Severus realized the sound of murtlap separation had ceased, and he looked up to find Potter staring at him, his green eyes hard, the knife still in his hand.
"Is it what you wanted, sir?"
"It is," Severus replied evenly, not rising to the bait of the boy's anger. "And I detect a pattern here. You will obey rules if you agree with them, or if given an even chance to comply."
Potter's eyes narrowed, but he nodded, tightly.
"For example, you have sent away for clothes to replace the ones that I noted were out of regulation. When did you send the owl?"
"The morning after we arrived, sir," Potter said, flushing.
"So, before I even discovered your nightclothes error."
"Yes, sir."
Severus nodded, and he was pretty sure of the next answer, but wanted to know for certain the depth of his own folly. "And so, when you asked about owl orders, during our House meeting . . . you had not forgotten quills or candy, had you."
Potter's jaw tightened, and his hand clenched around the knife. "No, sir."
"Mm." He paused, then, "You wrote that you arrive for classes on time, I see, realizing that not doing so is not only a disservice to yourself, but to your fellow classmates, and is disrespectful to your professors."
"Yes, sir."
"You do all your homework, to the best of your ability, though you have been required, primarily due to detentions, to miss several mandatory meetings with your study group." He peered up at the boy, watching his internal struggle. "Does that bother you?"
"Yes, sir."
"Explain."
"Well, sir, like I wrote, it's not fair to them when I don't show up, 'cause Millie, um, Millicent Bullstrode, she sometimes needs extra help and the others think she's dragging them down on purpose."
"And you do not?"
"No, sir. She can do the material, she just needs . . ." He shrugged.
"Encouragement?"
A brief smile. "Yes, sir."
"I see. But tell me, Potter, aside from the effect your absence has on your peers, Miss Bullstrode in specific, is there any other reason that not attending a mandatory study session should be avoided?"
Potter's frown was troubling, but then it smoothed and Severus released his breath. "Because I might need help, too?"
"Indeed." He paused, considered his words very carefully, then continued, "There is a pattern readily apparent in your rules violations, Mr. Potter. When you believe that you are the only person to be impacted by a rule that inconveniences you or may lead you to further trouble, you are more likely to disregard it. Take this one for example: the rule of 'No food until all your chores are done' has been disobeyed . . . how many times would you say?"
Potter swallowed convulsively and was silent for long enough that Severus could get his own temper under control, for which he was grateful. Just when he was about to prompt the boy again, Potter admitted in a soft voice, "Lots."
"Why?"
"I was hungry." The words came out as a whisper, and the knife trembled violently in his hand.
Severus dared only push a little further. He knew the real reason from reading between the lines of the essay, but he wanted to boy to admit it to himself. "Why did you simply not follow the rule? You would have been given food if you finished all your chores."
Potter shook his head. "Not always, not even if I did finish. And then . . ." His teeth snapped together. Red faced, with eyes bright with shame, he looked away.
"And then?" At the continued silence, Severus sharpened his tone. "If you finished your chores, what then?"
"And then he'd just make a longer list the next day!"
"Ah." Severus maintained his rigid self-control – which he had prided himself on ever since he was a child himself – with some difficulty. But he did keep his calm façade, and even managed to soften his tone again. "So the rule was not designed for your betterment, nor to keep you from harm, but merely to punish and humiliate you."
"Yes!" Potter said fiercely, and Severus was glad to see the fight in him.
"And that is the crux of the problem, isn't it? You see some rules or requirements here at Hogwarts as designed to humiliate or punish you, when they are in fact, for your safety and/or betterment."
Potter was breathing hard, the knife still gripped tight, but he closed his eyes for a moment and drew a slow breath. Severus watched him regain his temper, and was – almost – impressed.
Keeping a close eye on Potter's breathing pattern and the flush adorning his cheeks, Severus continued in a quiet voice, "For example, being sent to the Infirmary for a check up. I assure you, neither Madam Pomfrey nor myself has any desire to humiliate you for being in pain or in need of our assistance. We both are working to your betterment, but we can only do so with your cooperation. We discussed this on the weekend, did we not?"
"Yes, sir. I'm in your . . . purview?"
"Yes. As a professor, I have a duty and obligation to make sure every child is healthy in mind and body while he is at Hogwarts. Do you understand what that means?"
Potter nodded, and his words were hesitant, almost sullen. "You weren't mocking me when you sent me to see Madam Pomfrey."
"Correct." Severus glanced down at the scroll. "As well, I never considered you a 'cry baby' for seeing to your sore scar, nor a 'whinging malingerer' for needing to have a check up afterwards. I assume these are phrases used by others to describe you on an occasion or two?"
Potter was back to using a tight nod, his arms held rigidly by his sides.
With another glance at the scroll, Severus continued, "You also assumed you would get in 'even more trouble' by mere fact of visiting the Infirmary. Since I was the one who ordered you to go, with whom would this trouble be?
The boy shook his head this time, a spark of fear evident in his eyes.
Severus held his gaze. "I should let you know that, as Head of Slytherin House, I also keep tabs on the status of your home life during holidays. I will be asking some of these same questions of your relatives when I visit with them."
"No! You can't!"
Potter was visibly shaken now, but Severus pushed, "I can, Mr. Potter, and I will. Thus, you may as well answer them for me now."
"You can't visit them!" he repeated, sounding almost frantic. "They hate magic and Wizards, and . . . you just can't!"
"I assure you, I have nothing to fear from Muggles. And if they behave themselves, neither should they fear me."
Severus truly meant the reassurance, though he'd left himself a hell of an out concerning his treatment of them, if he needed it later. But he was far more interested to see if the boy would confirm his suspicions, which he did.
In the next second, Potter's face returned to the blank, careless mask he had used several times over the last few days, particularly when he realized he had no escape from a terrible circumstance. "Of course, sir. I meant no offense."
"I know," Severus said quietly. He had not moved from the doorway where he'd begun reading the Brat's scroll, and now he moved forward only one step. Bringing as much understanding to his mien as he could, he waited until Potter was relaxed enough to truly listen. He would make this point understood and unmistakable. "I do not mean to return you to their mercies afterwards without any preparation, on either your part or theirs. If you return to them at all, they will not be allowed to displace their anger towards me, or anything I say to them, upon you. Do you understand this? No child in my House will suffer abuse, even beyond the walls of this school."
Potter's mouth had dropped open, and he now stared at Severus as if he were the devil himself. Potter didn't believe him, fully, he knew, but was at least willing to hope that things could get better at home. "I . . . um, thank you, sir. . . ."
"But?"
Setting his jaw once more, Potter said, "But they'll deny it. Deny everything. I'm not s'posed to talk about it, you know, about what happens at home. What if . . . what if . . ?"
"What if I believe them instead?"
"Yes, sir."
Severus smiled tightly. "Magic is good for many things, Mr. Potter, not least in determining the truth of a situation. I assure you, I am very skilled in that arena. Two drops of Veritaserum, for instance . . ." He trailed off, sighed and looked away for a brief moment, then shook his head and decided the boy had suffered enough apathy on his part already. Enough equivocation. Time for him to admit some things, too. "Besides, I already believe you."
TBC . . .