[From Samhain to the Solstice]: Chapter Two of 'Adagio'- The Cloak

[lomonaaeren]

A knock on his door woke Severus far too early on Christmas morning. Albus only insisted that professors staying at the school attend the evening feast, so he gleefully skipped the morning meal. Now he rolled to his feet and made his way to the door, growling under his breath. It was probably Albus, with some ridiculous idea about “Christmas cheer.”

“Good morning, sir.”

Severus blinked as Potter ducked into his quarters. Potter halted and looked around, and Severus waved his wand to shut the door that would have let Potter see into his bedroom. That didn’t need to happen. “Why are you here, Mr. Potter?”

“I got a suspicious Christmas present, sir. And I know that you said after the troll, someone might be trying to kill me…”

Severus scowled. Two first-year Gryffindors had taken on the troll for idiotic reasons, and it had been only by the intervention of the luck that attended fools that they’d wound up in the hospital wing with nothing worse than a broken arm. Severus had thought Quirrell had released the troll to distract people from the Stone, but once Potter had reported the headaches he suffered in Defense class, Severus’s suspicions had shifted.

“Did you get any indication of where the present came from?” he asked, as he held out his hand for it.

“There was a note, sir, but it wasn’t signed. It only said that it had belonged to my father and I should use it well.” Potter fumbled for a moment at his side, and then took out something that shimmered so elusive a silver color, Severus had trouble seeing it even when it was in his hand.

He stared at what must be the finest Invisibility Cloak he had ever seen, and tamped down his loathing at the mention of James Potter. Many things about the “Marauders” were now explained.

“Give me a few days with the cloak, Mr. Potter,” he said at last. “I can feel no pernicious enchantment, but it will need further investigation.”

“Yes, sir.”

Potter had turned back to the door before it struck Severus that Potter had not objected to leaving something that had apparently belonged to his father. “You are not concerned for its safety, Mr. Potter?” he called.

Potter paused and looked back at him, his eyes empty. “The only things I knew about my parents before Hagrid came and got me from my relatives were their names,” he said evenly. “Then that day, I learned about how they really died and that they were in Gryffindor, and what their wands were made of. And a few weeks ago, Professor McGonagall mentioned how my father was a real Gryffindor and would be disappointed in me.”

He slipped out again, and left Severus there, holding the cloak and something worth far more than it was.

Then he shook his head and turned his attention to the cloak. He brightened as something occurred to him.

Not only would he get a chance to look at the device that James Potter had used to play so many of his pranks, but he had a perfect excuse to skip the Christmas feast. Albus would want his Boy-Who-Lived kept safe before anything else.

*

“We missed you at the feast, Severus.”

“You know how it is, Albus. The Slytherins who remain over the holidays always present so many challenges.”

*

“It’s clean, Mr. Potter.”

Potter gave him a swift glance before he reached out and carefully took the Cloak from Severus’s hands. He stared at it, swishing it back and forth, and then looked up at Severus. “Do you know who gave it to me, sir? Who my father would have trusted enough to lend it to?”

There was only one answer that made sense, but it was one that went right to the heart of Severus’s divided loyalties. He temporized. “Very few of your parents’ friends would have access to you now, Mr. Potter.”

“You do know.”

Severus narrowed his eyes. That kind of instinctive perception of the truth—and that was what he thought it was, not merely the wariness that obviously made it difficult for Potter to trust adults—often caused the people who possessed it to be good at Legiilmency. Severus was not sure he wanted to see what Potter would become if trained in the art.

But there is no reason for him to become good at it, or even to hear of it. Why should he?

“I suspect, Mr. Potter, which is not the same thing as knowing.”

“And you’re not going to tell me?”

Severus studied how stiffly Potter was standing, and hid a sigh. It was already apparent that the boy trusted almost no one else in the castle. While his conflicts with Draco seemed to have stopped, it was because Potter had warned the other boy off, not because he had made friends with Draco or anyone else who could have increased Potter’s strength in numbers. And the other professors either fell for the mask he wore or compared him unfavorably to his parents.

There was no reason that the disclosure should cause Potter to distrust Albus, Severus reassured himself. Why? If anything, the boy should adore the Headmaster for giving him a family heirloom back.

“I believe it was Headmaster Dumbledore,” Severus said in a reserved tone. “Your parents were close to him during the war.”

Potter stood still for a long, long moment. Then he nodded and said, “Thank you, sir,” and slipped out the door of Severus’s quarters.

Severus stared after him for a longer moment.

*

“Ah, come in, Severus! Thank you for making time to see me. Lemon drop?”

Severus shook his head, as he always did, and sat down in the chair across from Albus. The office was filled with even more whirring silver instruments than had been there the last time he had visited, and Fawkes’s perch was larger. Severus concealed a sneer. It would do him no good with this audience.

“Ah, my boy, you don’t know what you’re missing.”

Severus said nothing as he watched Albus close his eyes in enjoyment of the sweet. Then Albus opened them and sighed. “I wanted to speak to you about Harry Potter.”

Of course. Severus just nodded.

“He seems to have settled in just fine, but I must admit that I am worried about him. Other than the youngest Mr. Weasley from Gryffindor, he doesn’t seem to spend time around the other students. I wanted to know if you knew why that is?”

“Mr. Potter, naturally, does not confide in me about his friendships,” Severus said smoothly, and watched Albus nod. It meant nothing. For all that Albus had been Head of Gryffindor when he was still the Transfiguration professor, that was not like being Head of Slytherin. “But I believe that some of his Housemates have rejected him because of his blood and the expectation that he would Sort Gryffindor.”

“And…well, I believe I must confide in you, Severus. I gave Harry a rather important present for Christmas. He has not shown you that present? He has not used it?”

Severus looked Albus in the eye. Legilimency was feathering across his mind. Severus blocked it with a shield sharper than obsidian, so sharp that Albus couldn’t feel it cutting his mental hand apart, and only shook his head. “I do not have the kind of relationship with James Potter’s son that would permit of confidences about many important objects, Albus.”

Albus sighed. “As a matter of fact, it was one that belonged to his father.”

“Then I doubly do not have such a relationship.”

“Severus. Is it not time to let go of your irrational grudge against James Potter?”

“It is not irrational,” Severus muttered, and made sure that he sounded sulky.

“If you knew the way that that young man died—”

Albus spoke the expected words, and Severus made the expected responses. When he shut the office door behind him, he was reasonably sure that Albus had not picked up on Severus’s carefully-worded lie about the Invisibility Cloak.

Severus could not even say, for certain, why he had wanted to keep the secret. Except that he would have to choose between keeping Albus’s confidence and keeping Potter’s, and he had chosen Potter.

He could blame it on his Vow, if he chose.

But Severus simply preferred not to think about it.