Draco drew in a deep breath, and went on, "As for Flooing... well, it certainly wouldn't be like my father to leave that to the off-chance that some casewizard under Imperius could manipulate Severus' wards. So I think..." He disappeared down the hall, his wand at the ready, then returned a moment later, levitating a pocket-watch before him. "There's magic wrapped inside it. Portus, probably. I bet it's activated with a spoken spell. And before you say that nobody could Portkey through your wards, Severus, just consider that my father's visited enough to study them. Plus, I bet he knows a fair bit about your magical habits." With a jab of his wand, he impelled the floating watch toward the headmaster. "Evidence. For the Aurors. If they can manage to arrest my father and keep him in Azkaban this time, maybe Slytherin House would finally calm down enough to let me get out of here."
Snape leveled his wand at the floating watch and softly incanted a series of spells. "Lucius' magical signature," he pronounced, "cleverly disguised, but no doubt about it. I've put the item in stasis so a careless word won't send it hurtling back to him."
Dumbledore sighed. "I'm sorry, Amaelia, but in the circumstances I'm afraid I'll have to insist the two of you be examined by the Aurors."
The casewitch nodded. "I quite understand. This whole incident is such a blot on our reputation. We pride ourselves on looking after each child's interest. To think we've been... infiltrated by You-Know-Who... that one of our own workers has tried to put Harry Potter at risk..." She shuddered. "The Aurors should investigate the entire department."
"We'll retire to my office and wait for them," Dumbledore indicated. "Severus, if you could help me with the other one?"
Malice danced in Snape's dark eyes. "It would be my distinct pleasure."
The headmaster held up a hand. "On reflection, I think not. We need him alive. Mobilicorpus." The body of the casewizard floated out of the hall and followed Dumbledore and Thistlethorne into the Floo.
Snape handed Dumbledore the casewitch's wand before altering the binding spell he'd placed on Darswaithe. Harry wasn't sure, but it sounded like Snape was making sure the Aurors could Finite the man out of his stupefied, petrified condition.
"Keep me apprised," Snape requested as he took an ebony box from the mantle. He held it out towards Dumbledore, who reached for a handful of powder--
"Wait!" Harry shouted from the couch. "Sals! Check for Sals!"
"His snake likes to sleep in the fireplace," Snape explained as he knelt down and peered at the dark back corners. Harry heard a sigh, and then saw his teacher back out, bearing a tiny maroon-and-gold snake in his palm. "We really do have to do something about this tendency of hers," Snape chided as he deposited Sals in Harry's outstretched hand.
"Sals!" Harry rebuked his snake, asking with worry, "Were you in there when my soon-father came-in-fire a little while ago?"
Sals shook her head. "I sssaw the flamesss and knew it would be warm for aftersss."
"He's a Parselmouth!" a high voice exclaimed.
"And a good thing, too, Amaelia," Dumbledore calmly reassured the casewitch, who looked close to fainting. "We need a Parselmouth on our side, wouldn't you agree?"
"Your Floo powder, headmaster," Snape broke in, proffering the ebony box again.
Harry watched them Floo away, absently noting that Snape's powder produced a flash of fire that was more turquoise than emerald. Feeling stupid sitting there with one bare foot, the boy gingerly used his recently healed foot to toe off his remaining shoe and sock.
"You've seen Imperius cast a bunch of times," Draco remarked to Snape. "Would you say she's under it?"
"She seemed to know her own mind, not Voldemort's, when it came to Parselmouths," Snape murmured, turning back toward Harry. "I somehow doubt she's under Imperius."
"Too bad," Harry sighed, shifting his legs. "Because in that case, I think we can forget all about you adopting me. She'll never sign off on us."
"Hopeless, is it?" Snape probed. He moved Harry's feet off the couch, then sat down and took them into his lap, his fingers carefully examining the contours of the foot that had been injured. "Does this hurt? No? This?"
"Not too much," Harry passed it off. "And yeah, if she's on the up-and-up, of course it's hopeless! Draco held her at wandpoint, you insulted her, and now the Aurors get to have a field day with her whole department. She's not likely to be thrilled with this case. In fact, I bet she hates the lot of us."
"You sound... disappointed?"
"Shite, I don't know," Harry muttered. "I was getting used to the idea, all right? Or, sort of... Mostly, I just wanted it to be over. Settled, so we could finish the spell. Dudley does have a life to get back to, you know."
"Yes, I know," Snape murmured as though his mind were on other things.
"That fat witch'll hate me, maybe," Draco drawled. "The two of you'll have nothing to worry about. I mean, think about it! She's a Hufflepuff. All emotional, you know." He gave a light shudder, and viciously added, "Too bad for her the wart-removal potion has sat too long. She could have used it. Did you see her neck?"
Harry awkwardly reached around his back and arranged the couch cushions so he could lean on them. "Sometimes, I think you Slytherins hate Hufflepuffs even worse than Gryffindors."
Draco laughed, his eyes full of mirth. "Oh, well, that's easy to figure. We hate everybody, Harry. Ravenclaws are just too disgustingly smart--Severus here really should have been a Ravenclaw, but I suppose the Hat knew he'd end up being more useful to the cause in Slytherin--... and, let's see, Gryffindors are just so idiotically brave that it's ludicrous; no cunning at all... and a Hufflepuff'll weep all over you if you aren't careful. Anyway, she got an eyeful of you and Severus together, saw how he couldn't give a shrivelfig for her opinion if you were at risk. Your safety and welfare were his absolute top priorities. Shite, he even went to pains to take good care of your pet! My guess is, she'll ooze approval all over the adoption papers."
Draco sat down on the chair next to Harry and absently studied his nails.
Harry rolled on his side to face the other boy. "I... I suppose I really ought to thank you--"
Silver eyes glittered with surprise. "You did."
Snape rose fluidly to his feet, the motion careful so as not to jar Harry's feet. "Harry has a thanking-people thing. I dare say we'll have to get used to it."
What was so terrible about thanking people? Maybe Slytherins just took everything for granted, but Harry couldn't. The Dursleys had drummed it into his head that he didn't deserve anything, from anybody, and after all those years in the cupboard, after all those Christmases and birthdays without presents, he believed it. That meant, though, that maybe Snape was right, and his thanking-people-thing was a bit overdone.
Well, even if it was, he still felt compelled to detail, "Listen, Draco, I know... I er, haven't been so nice to you... but ah... well, if your father spelled that illegal Portkey, it'd probably have worked. I mean, he's no slouch of a wizard, even if he is as nasty as they come--"
"Harry," Draco interrupted. "What are you trying to say?"
Funny how hard it was to say it, when it was nothing but the truth. Harry took a deep breath. "I'm just really, really glad you were down here with me."