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The Boys Who Lived

Chapter 6: Suspicious Severus Snape

The day had started so well...

This thought ran repeatedly through Neville Longbottom's head as he gazed towards the sky. It was a bright and sunny day, with nary a cloud in the sky. It was the sort of weather for which most people would spend their time relaxing in, gladly shirking whatever responsibilities they had.

It was the first inter-house Quidditch match of the season at Hogwarts, a match that everybody had been anticipating for weeks. There had been numerous wagers in place throughout the other three houses on who'd be the new Gryffindor Seeker, since by now it had become common knowledge that Gryffindor had been the only house this year that hadn't run tryouts of any sort.

To Wood's delight, not a single soul amongst those houses had even guessed that Harry Potter would fill the spot, and with a sparkling new Nimbus Two-Thousand no less. Not even Draco Malfoy, who'd even been witness to a surreptitious meeting between Professor McGonagall and Harry, had put the obvious clues together.

Neville had mentally shrugged. Malfoy was fairly bright, he knew that from his test scores, but the Slytherin seemed to have a huge deficiency when it came to intuitive guesswork. His failure to surmise why the Gryffindor's Head of House had given Harry the Nimbus was just another mark on the checklist Neville was tallying in his head, as was the shocked look on his face as the Gryffindor Quidditch team marched into the Great Hall for breakfast, resplendent in their red and gold trimmed robes.

To Neville's mind, the shock that rippled through the other three houses had been one event in a long chain of events that should have resulted in being a Really Good Day. He had been able to sleep a bit later than usual since today was a weekend. Upon checking Trevor's tank, a routine he'd reluctantly added to his schedule after a few...incidents had occurred in the common room, he had found his toad asleep, with the tank itself still securely closed.

But after breakfast, things had rapidly gone downhill.

As Neville had walked back to the common room, he ran into Malfoy and his two cronies. The irritated Slytherin, deprived of venting against his usual target, had apparently settled on taking it out on the first Gryffindor he'd seen. Unfortunately, that had been Neville.

Then, as Neville had hopped towards the Fat Lady, he'd chanced upon Professor Snape in a sour mood; not that he could remember Snape in any other mood. His punishment for accidentally knocking over the Potions Master had resulted in a five-point loss from Gryffindor, followed by another five for slandering the name of a certain student after Neville had tried to explain the Leg-Locker Curse that he'd been victim too.

Snape had quickly moved out of sight, but not before Neville had noticed the professor favoring his leg, limping away as he'd stalked down the hall.

When he finally returned to the safety of the common room, he became aware of a certain amount of shouting floating down from the girl's dormitory. An unpleasant thought crossed his mind, a fear that was confirmed when Hermione marched down from the upper levels, toad in hand.

It didn't take much to figure out what had happened, especially considering the state her hair had been, so Neville immediately moved forward, mumbling apologies as he went. Of course, he'd forgotten about the curse momentarily, but in retrospect, the pain of smashing headlong into the carpeting was much better than what an angry bookworm could do with a VERY large book in hand.

Hermione had quickly cast the counter curse, after which he'd gratefully taken Trevor back up to his dorm room while she went back to her room to tame her hair. He'd replaced the toad in his tank, sealing a broken hinge with liberal applications of Spell-o-tape, and joined Ron as they went back down to the common room. The two of them had waited for Hermione to return before they set off for the Quidditch Pitch.

It was a situation both boys were still getting used to. Although Hermione had been more civil towards them following the night of Halloween, the situation between them hadn't changed all that much. She and Ron still seemed to argue over the most trivial of things, while the actions of Neville's toad did nothing to endear him to her. Even Harry, who'd gone out of his way to avoid antagonizing her, was under a certain amount of suspicion, mostly because he had been behaving while his two closest friends seemed to be getting into her hair.

In spite of her suspicions, she'd been willing to help them with their schoolwork, or at least with their writing assignments. Also despite their efforts of the past term, she still outstripped all three of them in nearly every class, although she had admitted they were doing better than she'd given them credit for. And while she didn't realize it, she was the perfect sounding board for them as they used her to assist in research for The Plan.

After the first week, however, when it quickly became apparent that they were the only real companions she had, even Ron had stopped teasing her about her scholarly habits...at least not as much. Their change of attitude towards her had been reciprocated, which had resulted in inviting her to watch Harry's first match with them...

* * *

...Which was where Neville found himself now, silently bemoaning the events of the day. Watching helplessly as his best friend, flying hundreds of meters above the ground, seemed to be giving his best impression of a muggle cowboy on a bucking bronco.

"Dunno what 'Arry thinks he's doing," a deep voice mumbled from his side. They'd met Hagrid while climbing up to the spectator's boxes. The gamekeeper had a large pair of binoculars held up to his eyes as he watched the Gryffindor seeker.

Neville looked past him and met Hermione's eyes staring back at him with equal concern. The two looked back to the sky as Harry's broom gave another wild jerk, nearly unseating him.

"If I didn' know better," Hagrid continued, "I'd say he'd lost control of his broom...but he can't have..."

"He's been like that since the Slytherin captain nearly knocked him over," piped up Ron.

"Did something happen to it when Flint blocked him?" whispered Seamus Finnigan from his other side.

The whole crowd was aware of Harry's plight now, a collective gasp as another random course change finally throwing Harry clear, only his quick reflexes had managed to save him as he grabbed onto his unwieldy broom.

"No student could do something like that," Hagrid boomed with certainty. "Can't nothing interfere with a broomstick except powerful magic. Dark Magic, I'd say."

Neville threw his head into his hands. The day had started so well...

There was an exclamation from Hermione, and he turned as he watched her scan the crowd with Hagrid's binoculars.

"What are you doing?" Ron sputtered.

In response the witch pressed the binoculars against his head, swiveling both so that they pointed down the field to where the professors were sitting.

"Snape," she whispered. "Look, he's doing something...jinxing the broom or something."

"Are you sure?" Ron asked doubtfully as he passed the binoculars over to Neville.

"Of course," Hermione hissed.

Neville looked over the crowds and quickly found Professor Snape. Like almost everybody else in the pitch, his eyes were focused straight on the struggling Harry Potter. Unlike the rest, however, his mouth was moving, a consistent motion which gave him the appearance of muttering under his breath.

"What should we do?"

"Leave it to me."

As Hermione ran for the stairs, Ron took the binoculars back and turned them towards Harry. As he did so, Neville glanced towards the players. Though most of the stadium was aware of Harry's plight, Madam Hooch seemed to be of the opinion about continuing the game, and Oliver Wood was still staring in shock as his Seeker struggled to right himself. Neville noticed as the Slytherins used the handy distraction to send the quaffle past the Gryffindor Keeper, though poor aim resulted in a scant five goals being scored.

Ron gave a sort of strangled cheer and Neville snapped his head back to the sky. Harry had finally remounted his broom and was diving for the ground, his face pale. He'd made it halfway to the ground when he suddenly threw his hand up to his mouth, looking like he was about to be sick. As the crowd watched in horror, his shoulders heaved, spitting the contents of his mouth into his gloved hand.

A sparkle caught Neville's eye, which he pointed out to Ron just as the crowd erupted into cheers. By a stroke of luck, Harry had managed to 'catch' the Snitch, ending the game in Gryffindor's victory.

* * *

"He did what?" Harry demanded.

Hagrid had volunteered to let Harry recover from the match in his hut, seeing as he had no lasting injuries to warrant a trip to the Hospital Wing. The five of them sat around Hagrid's oversized table, each cradling a mug of hot tea.

"He was cursing you," Ron explained. "We saw Snape doing it. He was just...staring at you, mumbling."

"Rubbish," said Hagrid. Having focused all of his attention on Harry, he hadn't heard anything the others had been talking about. "Why would Professor Snape - and don't you forget his rank even in your thoughts - want ter do somethin' like that?"

"I don't know," Hermione said grudgingly. "But I know a jinx when I see one, Hagrid. I've read all about them. You have to keep eye contact, and Sna...Professor Snape wasn't blinking at all! I saw him!"

"How'd you stop him anyhow?" asked Harry.

"I...er..." Hermione looked a bit embarrassed. "I set fire to his robes." She pulled out a small jar, inside it was a blue flame. "It's very handy spell to know," she explained. "It can burn for a very long time, even in strong winds, and you can carry the flames around like this."

"Yeh haven't answered my question," Hagrid rumbled impatiently.

Neville looked up as something occurred to him. "Harry," he said, "remember that night on Halloween..."

"How could we forget," Harry scoffed. He shot a quick glance at Hermione, which she appeared not to have seen.

"But do you remember how we saw Snape- (Hagrid rumbled) Professor Snape alone in the corridors?"

"He was heading for the restricted section!" Harry leaned forward. "But what does that have to do with anything?"

"He must have seen you, Harry!" Ron said. "He didn't want you to tell anybody, so he tried to kill you!"

"It's been weeks since Halloween," Hermione interjected. "And it's only us students that aren't allowed to go there, I'm sure the rule doesn't apply towards professors."

"Has anybody noticed Snape's got a limp now?" Neville asked. He ignored the glare Hagrid threw at him. "I ran into him today, just noticed it."

"He looked like he'd gotten slashed up on Halloween, now that I think about it." Harry looked over at Hagrid. "As if he'd gotten into a fight with...something."

Hermione's eyes widened and she also looked at Hagrid, who was starting to look a bit uncomfortable with the scrutiny.

"Yeh aren't talkin' about Fluffy now, are yeh?" he demanded.

"Fluffy?" Ron exclaimed.

"Oops."

"That reminds me," Hermione said. She reached into her robes and pulled out a large stack of parchments and quills, quickly stuffing the latter back into a pocket. She started sorting through the parchments, "I remember reading at the beginning of the term, there was an attempted break in at Gringotts Bank."

Ron's eyes bugged out at the size of the stack, a reaction that the others chose to ignore, even if they felt the same way.

Hermione finally found what she'd been looking for and dropped an article of the Daily Prophet onto the table. She waited long enough for the boys to each read through the article once before turning towards Hagrid with an apologetic smile.

"I remember someone once told me that even the wizard bank had nothing on a certain school when it came to keeping something safe," she said quietly.

"'Gringotts Goblins today insist that nothing had been taken,'" Neville read as he traced a line. "'The vault that was searched had in fact been emptied earlier that day.'"

"I first met Hagrid while my parents and I were wandering down Diagon Alley," Hermione said. "He was so nice, showing us around, even my parents were glad for his help."

"Hermione..." the half-giant warned.

"He took us to Gringotts so we could convert some of my parents' money into Wizarding currency," she continued. "It was no problem for him, he said. He had business there already..."

Hagrid was silent for long moments as the boys digested this information.

"Are you saying that Hagrid tried to rob Gringotts?" Neville finally asked. He winced as Harry clapped him on the back of his head.

"WHAT? No!" Hermione exclaimed as Hagrid made similar remarks. "Hagrid probably took what was in that vault and brought it to Hogwarts!"

"Dumbledore must have guessed it might have been stolen," Harry mused. "My Dad's always said the old wizard must be part seer, his intuition is just astounding."

"So he had Hagrid bring...whatever-it-is to Hogwarts, so that they could guard it here?"

They turned towards Hagrid again, who was looking very irritated now. "Tha's right," he admitted. "All the professors are guarding it," he stabbed a finger at Harry, "even Professor Snape! Not that anybody would get past Fluffy anyhow."

"Snape's trying to steal it, Hagrid!" Harry insisted. "He tried to KILL me because he thinks we know!"

Hagrid waved his arms. "I'm tellin' yeh, yer wrong! I dunno why Harry's broom acted like it did, but Snape wouldn' be tryin' to kill a student!" He pointed at each of them in turn. "Now listen to me, all of yeh, yer meddlin' in things that dun concern yeh. Leave it alone, forget about Snape, forget about that dog, an' you forget what it's guardin'! That's strictly between Professor Dumbledore an' Nicolas Flamel and it doesn't-"

He suddenly blinked and looked at their faces with growing horror. "Out!" he roared. He began ushering them towards the door. "Out! An' remember what I told yeh all! ...Except for the last part, forget about that! But the part about forgetting, remember the forgetting! Forget the remembering, the last...ah, I shouldn'ta told yeh that..." he mumbled.

He slammed the door shut as they left, leaving them wondering who Nicolas Flamel was.

* * *

Winter soon fell upon the school in the form of a fierce snowstorm. Though the skies cleared after a few days, the cold that had come with it had seeped through the whole school, leaving only the House Common Rooms and the Great Hall comfortably warm.

Despite the dreadful conditions, the students' morale was high with the prospect of the Christmas Holidays, mostly for the break from classes, although some were anticipating seeing their families for the first time in months since they were heading back to their homes.

Ron and his brothers were staying at the school, however, since his parents had gone to visit another one of his brothers, Charlie, in Romania.

"He's a dragon keeper," Ron had explained.

Neville's grandmother had written to him, telling him to stay at Hogwarts since she didn't have the energy to deal with him so soon after she'd finally gotten him out of the house. Perhaps in response, Harry's dad had wrote him, telling him he could also stay Harry wanted to.

Of course, since it was usually quite rare that students stayed at the school for the holidays, word got around. Malfoy had been especially bitter about Slytherin losing their Quidditch match and had gone around spreading the rumor that the trio was unwanted by their own families.

"I really feel for you, Potter," Malfoy said as they left Potions. He was rubbing his hands together to stay warm, since Snape's dungeon was one of the coldest rooms in the castle. "Longbottom has no parents and Weasley just has the misfortune of being a Weasley, but I expected you at least to be welcome in your own home."

Harry, who was still upset that Malfoy had hexed Neville before the Quidditch match, lazily flicked his wand over his shoulder. "Accio Helmet," he chanted. He took a few more steps before he heard the satisfying clang of an armored helm connecting with the back of Malfoy's skull, ending the pale boy's taunting.

The headless suit of armor across the hall made a rude gesture as its head clattered to the ground, the dazed Slytherin following it down.

* * *

"Queen to H-4."

". . ."

"Sorry Harry, that's checkmate."

"That was only two moves!!!"

"It's your own fault for moving your pawns that way." Ron grinned and leaned back into his chair.

"I think that was the shortest game of Wizard's Chess I've ever seen."

"Sod off, Neville."

The Christmas Holidays had come so swiftly that even remembering the last few weeks of classes was difficult. The three of them, along with the Weasley twins, had spent the first part of their day engaged in a huge snowball fight. Though the trio had fought well, Fred and George had far too many years of experience against their older brothers under their belt and had used their knowledge mercilessly against their youngest brother and his friends. The minor avalanche they'd set off certainly hadn't made their fight any easier.

After the trio had dug themselves out, they had gone back to the common room to warm themselves up. It was there that Ron had decided on a game of Wizard's Chess, a game exactly the same as the muggle version, except for the small fact that the pieces in Wizard's Chess were animated and somewhat self-aware. They also tended to be unnecessarily vicious.

In all fairness, it was Harry's first game of Wizard's Chess. His father wasn't much of a player, and he couldn't play with Neville either since his Gran wouldn't let him get within wand distance of a board. However, he still couldn't keep a wince from his face as Ron's Queen marched up to his King and took off its head with its own scepter.

"Another game?" Ron asked.

"That's alright," said Harry as he slid out of his seat.

Neville took his place, "I'll try."

Harry watched silently as the pieces pulled themselves back together and stalked back to their respective squares. He seemed to be brooding a lot, ever since Hermione had left for her vacation. To anybody else he'd seem perfectly normal, since Harry was very good at hiding his emotions.

To Neville, who'd known him since before he could remember, his face was as readable as a page from a children's book, one with big bright BOLD letters. Neville gave one last look at his friend and sighed. He's obsessed... He turned back to the game...

...and blinked. "What the-"

"Checkmate," Ron said cheerfully. "You did better than Harry though, three moves this time."

"Bloody hell..."

"I'm going to the library," Harry suddenly said as he stood up.

"Now? What for?"

"Research."

"Harry, we've already worked out most of The Plan." Neville stood up too, throwing a glare at his chess pieces. "It's just a matter of waiting for the 'opportune moment,' as you keep saying."

Harry looked pained. "Neville, I don't have a one-track mind, you know. We need to look up Nicolas Flamel."

"No," Ron said. "We did that during almost all of our spare time since the game. Between that and The Plan, I'm sick of the library right now..."

"Go ahead and stay here then." Harry peeked out of the portrait hole. "I just want to know what Hagrid's dog is guarding."

Neville followed him out but he poked his head back in to look at Ron before he closed the portrait. "I'm going too. I'm curious to know what's in there that Snape thinks is worth killing for."

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