Potter's face screwed up, but he let the potion bottle come to his lips this time, and even drank it all down. Severus waited a few minutes, for it to take affect. At one point, feeling a set of judgmental eyes surveying him, he glared at the Bloody Baron. If not for his bloody Obliviate, this would have been far simpler. The Baron merely leant -- rather casually, and in obvious disregard for laws of ectoplasmic beings -- against the wall nearest the door, his face as blank as Severus on his best days. His eyes, though . . . haunted didn't begin to describe it.
Finally, the boy in the chair straightened up, though he rubbed his hand across his scar a few times as if it pained him, and his eyes were squinting more than usual behind his ill fitting glasses.
"Better?"
"Yessir," Potter said, slurring the words a little, still.
"Do you remember your name?"
"Bo . . . Harry Potter, sir."
What had he been about to say? "And do you remember where you are?"
Potter scrubbed his eyes with his fingers and nodded. "Classroom. Dungeons."
"That's right. Now, do you remember what we were just doing, you, the Bloody Baron and I?"
"Trying . . ." Potter sounded rather tired. "To get memories."
"Yes. And do you have them now?"
"I . . ." Lines formed in Potter's forehead, and he rubbed at his scar again.
"Does your scar hurt?"
A nod. "Like in my nightmare."
"The one I found you awakened from?"
"Yessir."
Severus' frown deepened. Surely such dreams couldn't be connected to the curse scar. Could they? He glanced at the Baron, and was surprised to see him closer now, floating almost alongside the Brat. Keeping his eyes on the ghost, he said, "What do you remember about the nightmare?
"Green . . . green light. And . . . and the snake-face man. . . . Laughing."
Severus' gaze snapped to the boy's face, a dawning sense of horror taking his breath away. Surely Potter had been too young to have remembered that. Did he even know what the dream meant? And yet, if his scar hurt afterwards, and the two were connected . . .
The boy was shivering, and Severus took out his own wand and cast a simple warming charm on the immediate area, though he knew at least part of Potter's shivering was not due to cold. "Do you remember the fight in the dungeons now?" he asked quietly.
With a quick jerk of his head, Potter said, "Yes, sir," through gritted teeth.
Leaning forward, the Bloody Baron reached toward Harry's face with one silvery hand. "Tell me, child, who attacked us?"
Potter pulled back from the near contact, his eyes wide and focussed completely for the first time since Severus left his mind. He wrapped his arms around his stomach, a classic attempt at self-protection. "I . . . I can't tell, r-really. It was d-d-dark, where he was. But not just like no torches. Real dark."
"Magically?" Severus wondered aloud. "Obscuro or Ignotos?"
"Perhaps." The Bloody Baron shrugged eloquently. He moved closer, still, to the boy. "Did you hear his voice?"
"H-he was like a snake," Potter said, the trembling in his limbs more pronounced. "All hissing and slithery sounding."
Gaping, Severus sat back in his chair. Had it been Parseltongue? Had the Dark Lord actually, finally returned? His insides turned to ice at the very idea. Slowly, showing none of the dread or revulsion he felt, he said, "He sounded like a snake. . . . Could you understand what he was saying?"
Potter nodded. "It was just with all extra esses and stuff."
Not Parseltongue then, for he could not imagine the boy was a Parselmouth. Maybe an imitator? Someone who wanted Potter to think he was the Dark Lord? That possibility was nearly as bad, for that meant a Death Eater had gotten past the wards on the school, since Severus hoped that he was the only actual Death Eater on staff.
As the boy shivered some more, Severus called up a House-elf and ordered the creature to bring them cocoa and something for the boy to nibble on. Once it had arrived, and Potter had a cup of the hot drink in his hands, helping to warm him, Severus said, "Tell me what you do remember."
And so he did. Potter's story matched evenly with what the Baron said, and he had a good recall of what spells had been used against him, and what he and the ghost had cast together, but he didn't have any more solid clues about the attacker's identity than the Baron had. His voice became stronger and more sure as he spoke, and the shaking stopped after only a couple minutes. "I'm not sure if I could do the spells again so well, but I think I have the basic wand movement, even for the last couple," he admitted as he finished up.
"That will work to your advantage if you are so accosted again," Severus said. He still had a number of questions, but it was late. "I would still like to view the memory, Mr. Potter," he said as the boy took the last sip from his third cup of cocoa. "I believe it will help me piece together who your attacker was. I may recognize the voice." Though, by Merlin, he hoped not.
"Um, okay." Potter set the mug down on the table and took a long breath, his gaze wary but resigned as he looked into Severus' eyes.
"Not tonight," Severus said, suppressing a grimace at Potter's willingness to undergo another procedure so soon. "Tomorrow during your detention will be soon enough. It's after curfew already, and you're tired, as am I. I will walk you back to your room."
The relief that passed over Potter's face would have been hard for anyone to miss, but he nodded and rose. "Yes, sir. Thank you."
"It . . ." Severus paused, trying to figure out why exactly he though he needed to reassure the boy, but then gave the self-reflection up as a bad job and said, "My viewing the memory will not be as painful as tonight's search was. We should not have to do that again."
"Oh, good."
With one of his less ferocious sneers, Severus rose from the chair he had taken across from the boy, and nodded at the Bloody Baron on the way out of the classroom. The Baron inclined his head, and there was a promise in that dark gaze; the ghost would protect his Slytherin child as much as possible until they discovered the assassin.
Just outside the portrait to the Snake Pit, Severus stopped the boy with a hand on his arm. "Potter . . . don't mention to anyone the content of those memories . . . or the Bloody Baron's apparent involvement in the attack."
Potter's lips turned up slightly. "I know, sir. I'm not as stupid as I look, remember?"
Severus snorted lightly and shook his head. "Cheeky brat. Go to bed, no side trips. And try not to get killed tomorrow at Quidditch tryouts."
Potter actually smiled at him. "Yes, sir. Good night."
The portrait had closed behind the boy before Severus answered him. "Good night, Harry."
TBC . . .
A/N: Sweet! We hit 1000 reviews and then some. Thank you, everyone, for your support! Next chapter out by Thursday.
*Chapter 17*: Chapter 17
Better Be Slytherin! – Chapter 17
By jharad17
Disclaimer: Not mine. I imagine I'll get over it.
Summary: As a first year, Harry is sorted into Slytherin instead of Gryffindor, and no one is more surprised than his new Head of House.
Previously:
Severus snorted lightly and shook his head. "Cheeky brat. Go to bed, no side trips. And try not to get killed tomorrow at Quidditch tryouts."
Potter actually smiled at him. "Yes, sir. Good night."
The portrait had closed behind the boy before Severus answered him. "Good night, Harry."
Though he was exhausted, Harry had a difficult time falling asleep that night. He kept going over the returned memories of the attack, as well as reliving the feel of having the Bloody Baron take up residence in his body. To be honest, he was wildly unhappy with that whole episode, even if it had saved his life; he hated not having control, and the Baron had taken every bit from him, and then erased his memories afterwards. It was maddening, and not fair besides.