Harry woke up early the next morning, anxious to get home to Ginny. He’d checked in with her briefly last night, and she had seemed fine, but Harry didn’t want to be away a day longer than he had to be.
From the window of the otherwise empty dining room he watched the village waking up for the day. The few shops along the main street opened for business, and some of the village children walked by on their way to school. One of two of them, who must have been playing in the orchards yesterday, recognized Harry and waved. He waved back.
As the hours ticked by, Harry grew restless. He wasn’t sure how long it would take him to hike back down to Brison-Saint-Innocent, or how long it would take to catch a train from there to Paris. He tried to ask his host how often Paris-bound trains ran through the area, but the man just shrugged and cleared away Harry’s plate.
Harry waited until almost ten, and then decided he could wait no longer. He hadn’t expected Snape to show up himself, of course, but he could have sent a message by Owl Post or something. The older wizard must have decided not to cooperate.
Harry couldn’t say he was surprised. Disappointed, but not surprised. He knew this trip had been a long shot.
He packed his rucksack, and made sure the Pensieve was secure in its carrying case. He settled up his bill, and stepped back onto the village’s main road. He had to admit that with the sun shining the place wasn’t quite as unappealing as it had been yesterday. But with the towering mountains on all sides and the difficulty of access, Harry didn’t expect this little town would ever become the latest tourist destination.
If Snape wanted to stay hidden, he’d chosen a pretty good place.
He walked down the road a ways, only to hear small feet thundering behind him. He turned to see the Amalfi-Lebeau twins running after him.
“Good, we caught you!” Isabelle told him as she skidded to a stop.
“Yeah, you must have gotten an early start,” her sister gasped.
“I’ve got to be getting home,” Harry told them. He studied them in the sunlight. They really weren’t bad-looking children. Mercifully, they appeared to take after their mother, rather than their father, in both appearance and temperament.
“That’s too bad,” Isabelle said with a frown. “We were hoping…we don’t meet many other wizards, you see.”
“I’m sorry if I’ve disappointed you,” Harry said truthfully.
“Oh, well,” Annabelle shrugged. She appeared to be the more philosophical of the twins. “Anyway, we have something for you. From Father.”
Harry raised his eyebrows. “You do?”
Isabelle produced a small wooden box. “He said to bring this to you. We thought we’d have more time, so we stopped to play on the way here. Sorry.”
“That’s OK.” Harry took the box. It fit neatly onto his outstretched hand. There was a small brass latch on the front. He looked steadily at the two children. “Thank you. I really appreciate you delivering this to me.”
“Glad to do it. Got us out of lessons for a few hours,” Annabelle said.
Harry laughed. “Then I’m happy to have been of assistance.”
“We’d better get home. Mother will be looking for us,” Isabelle sighed.
“Of course. Off you go, then. Goodbye.”
“Bye.” As they ran back to the village, both girls turned and waved back at Harry.
As he tucked the small box into his bag, Harry’s mood brightened. Hopefully, he’d gotten what he came for, and without having to see Snape again. That could only be considered a bonus.
And he’d seen the twins one last time. In spite of their rather unfortunate parentage, they’d helped Harry twice in as many days.
He had to admit he was actually kind of sorry he wouldn’t be seeing them again.
Harry carefully locked the door to his private train compartment, and lowered all the shades. He had a few hours before the train would reach Paris—more than enough time to look at Snape’s first two memories.
He pulled down the small folding table from the wall so that it fit neatly between the two seats. Harry then got down the two additional pieces of baggage, one large, one small, he was now carrying with him. He tapped the larger box with his wand to unlock it and removed the Pensieve from its protective case. He set it in the middle of the table. Then he opened the small wooden box the twins had given him.
Nestled inside were three matching vials made of blue glass. Inside each one Harry could see the curling tendrils of a memory.
Were they really Snape’s memories?
Or had he decided to double-cross Harry after all?
“Only one way to find out,” Harry said to himself, selecting the first vial.
He tipped it into the Pensieve and in an instant it joined the swirling light. Harry took a deep breath and leaned over the shallow basin.
This time he landed on a rolling green lawn. Harry looked about him, and saw the thickly forested hills around Hogwarts. In front of him loomed one of that great edifice's steep stone walls.
Snape, a Snape a few years younger than the one he’d seen in Remus’ memory, was hovering behind a holly bush. He still had that pale, stunted look about him, and his shabby robes were a size too big for his thin frame. Harry reckoned this must be Snape’s third or fourth year.
But what on earth was he doing? In the sky overhead Harry could see that the sun was beginning to descend into the west. There were always serious repercussions for any students caught outside the castle after dark. Surely Snape knew that. So why was he hiding?
The answer became clear a moment later, when, across the grass, Harry saw Madam Pomfrey with a very young Remus Lupin. She had one hand on the boy’s shoulder, and appeared to be saying something soothing to him as they walked. Remus looked miserable.
Oh, no. Harry knew what memory this had to be. He then felt rather foolish for being surprised. He should have expected Snape would want Harry to see this.
From his hiding place in the bushes Snape watched as Madam Pomfrey approached the Whomping Willow. She pulled out her wand, said some kind of incantation Harry could not hear, and the Willow’s flailing limbs went still. The nurse and her charge went inside, and a few minutes later Pomfrey emerged without Lupin by her side.
Harry looked over his shoulder at Snape. Harry knew burning curiosity when he saw it. Snape’s black eyes followed Pomfrey as she went back into the castle, and Harry could see him mentally debating what action to take next.
But the Whomping Willow had already begun to whomp again, its powerful branches thrashing against both ground and sky.
Severus’ shoulders slumped in disappointment. Clearly understanding that his questions would not be answered tonight, Snape slouched back inside through the main doors.
The front hall was nearly deserted, but Harry could hear loud laughter and chatter from the Great Hall. All the other students must be at dinner. And poor Remus had to sit all alone in the Shrieking Shack, waiting for his terrible transformation to begin.
“Well, hello, Snivelly,” a smooth voice said.
Both Harry and Snape looked up to see a young, but still very handsome, Sirius Black sitting on the staircase railing. He was using a spare quill to clean under his fingernails. When he saw he had Snape’s attention he tossed it aside, jumped down, and stood before him.
“Lucky you came in—another few minutes and the sun will be down. You would have been in violation of the rules.”
“Since when have you ever cared about the rules, Black?” Severus sneered.
“Now, Severus, you know Dumbledore makes these rules for our own good,” Black said, his face the picture of wide-eyed innocence.
“Leave me alone, Black. I’m going in to dinner.” Snape turned on his worn-down heel to leave, but Sirius’ next words made him pause.
“I expect you were following old Pomfrey and Lupin, weren’t you, Snivelly? I’ve seen you do that before. Last month, as a matter of fact. Couldn’t find a way in to the Whomping Willow, though, could you?”
Snape scowled. “What do you care?”
“Oh, I don’t,” Sirius said breezily. “Personally I don’t think it’s fair that Remus gets special treatment, but…” He shrugged exaggeratedly. “...what are you going to do?”
“Special treatment?”
“I mean, if I“ were Headmaster I’d make sure the staff didn’t play favorites, even if it’s one of my friends who benefits.”
Harry thought it was all rather pathetic. Young Snape looked like a dog that had lost its bone and then suddenly found it again. “What sort of special treatment?”
“I can’t say.”
Severus was growing impatient. “If it bothers you so much, why don’t you report it?”
“Can’t. Sworn to secrecy. Wizard’s oath and all that. You know how it is. But,” Sirius said slowly, as if the idea was just occurring to him, “you could spread the word.”
“Me?” Snape asked cautiously.
“Yeah. Go have a look, and then you can report back to Dumbledore what’s going on. I’m sure he’d like to know Remus is out of bounds after sunset.”
“I don’t believe you,” Snape said quickly. “You’d never turn in one of your rotten friends.”
Black shrugged. “Suit yourself. But, hey, if you change your mind, all you have to do is poke the knot on the willow with a long stick, and you’ll be able to get in. I think I’ll go to dinner now—smells good. See you around, Snivelly.”
With his hands in his pockets Sirius strolled into the Great Hall.
Snape followed him in a few moments later, and for a time Harry hoped that perhaps he’d misinterpreted events. Maybe this wasn’t that fateful evening after all.
Snape sat down at the Slytherin table, but the food he chose remained untouched on his plate. He sat near the end, and although Harry could see other future Death Eaters at the table (including the Lestrange brothers) no one spoke to Snape. He just sat there using his fork to draw lines in his mashed potatoes.
Snape remained there long after most of the other students had gone back to their dormitories. When the room was finally nearly empty Severus looked around him carefully and then slipped out. He headed, not for the Slytherin common room, but for the main door.
Harry sighed heavily. So much for his hope.
Snape slunk back over the lawn and down the hill. The shadows were rapidly deepening from dark purple to inky black. When it got dark at Hogwarts, it really got dark. There were too many clouds overhead to see the full moon yet, but Harry knew it had to be there.
Severus paused to search under the other, safer trees until he found a long, stout stick.
Carefully, carefully, he slid up to the Whomping Willow.
The tree wasn’t fooled by his stealth. It swung one of its mighty branches directly at the boy, who rolled out of the way just in time.
Snape was faster than Harry would have credited. Stick in hand, he quickly darted under another limb and managed to jab the knot in the willow’s trunk.
The branches were stilled for the moment. Snape ducked under them and slid down into the hole. Harry shook his head and dove after the boy.
In the tunnel Snape stood up, and so did Harry. Snape pulled out his wand.
“Lumos!” he said in a hoarse whisper. In the faint light from the wand Harry could see that Snape’s face was even paler than usual.
And no wonder. Not only was the dank tunnel dark, but sounds from the Shrieking Shack were reverberating down the passage--creaks, and moans, and a strange shuffling, grunting sound.
Lupin must have already transformed.
Even though Harry knew Snape would come through this and go on to be a thorn in his side for years to come, he couldn’t help constantly looking over his shoulder, hoping any moment to see James.
Snape crept along the passageway. He kept repeating the Lumos spell under his breath to keep the wand lit. He was panting with fear, and his bone-white forehead shone with sweat.
The noises were getting louder.
But still Snape inched forward. Harry had to give the kid credit—he was really determined. Or at least really determined to get Lupin into trouble.
Snape had almost reached the twisting, rickety stairs to the Shack when Harry finally heard a faint thump behind them. It signaled James’ arrival.
“Severus!” James called, his voice echoing down the passage. “Stop where you are! Don’t go any further!”
Snape froze for a split second. Then Harry saw him sneer in James’ direction, and start up the stairs.
James was running full tilt down the passage, his shoes sliding on the mossy floor. “Severus! I said stop!”
The race was on. Severus was climbing fast, but James was a Quidditch player—stronger and probably a lot healthier than Snape was. He vaulted up the stairs three at a time and managed to throw his arms around Snape before he reached the half-open door.
“Go back, go back!” James cried, pulling at Snape with all his might.
The thinner boy struggled furiously. “Get off me, Potter!”
They lost their footing, and tumbled back down the stairs, landing in a heap of robes and limbs.
James recovered quickly and grabbed Snape under the arms. He literally dragged the other boy backwards down the passage. Snape kicked and swore, but he was no match for James.
Behind him Harry heard the door creak open. He could just see the lumbering, furry shape of werewolf Lupin. It must have sensed the boys, because it snuffled at the door and let loose a howl that, in the confined space under the Shrieking Shack, made Harry’s hair stand on end. On all four paws the werewolf, licking its muzzle, began to descend the stairs.
Even though he knew the werewolf would not be able to sense him, Harry dashed back past his father.
“Bloody hell!” James swore. He let go of Snape, who was now staring, transfixed, at the werewolf at the other end of the passageway.
James shoved him roughly ahead of him. “Move!”
Snape began to half-climb, half-scramble up the opening under the willow. James got behind him and gave him a mighty shove, and the two boys tumbled out into the night air. Harry quickly followed them.
They lay panting on the ground. James looked like he wanted to be sick. So did Snape.
Behind him in the passageway Harry could hear werewolf Lupin shuffling and scraping, but the animal was far too big to follow them outside through the narrow opening.
At once James and Severus (and Harry) seemed to realize that the willow was not trying to kill them. Both boys rolled over, to find themselves nose-to-slipper with their Headmaster, Dumbledore.
The wizard stared down at his two students with all the gravitas of the most serious Wizengamot judge.
“What is the meaning of this?” Dumbledore said calmly, but with a glint of steel in his eyes.
James and Snape both stumbled shakily to their feet.
“Headmaster, we…” James began.
Severus quickly cut him off. “He,” he said, pointing a finger at James, “tried to kill me, Headmaster.”
James looked stunned. “What?”
“James Potter and Sirius Black just tried to kill me.” Snape had started to shiver, but he stood his ground.
James exploded. “You bloody idiot! I just saved your life!”
Dumbledore held up a hand, and both boys were immediately silent.
“We shall not discuss this here. Come with me to my office, at once.”
Dumbledore seemed to sail across the lawn as if he didn’t have a care in the world. James and Severus stumbled along behind him, shooting deadly glances at each other but too cowed to speak.
They were met by Professor McGonagall, who had Sirius Black by the scruff of his neck. Sirius looked disappointed to see Snape again.
“Everything all right, Albus?” McGonagall asked softly.
“For the moment, Minerva. Please take Mr. Black up to Gryffindor Tower. I will speak to him later. Mr. Potter and Mr. Snape are coming with me.”
“Of course, Headmaster.”
Harry’s father and Snape trudged after Dumbledore. When they finally came to the stairway outside his office, the Headmaster cleared his throat.
“Jelly babies,” he said clearly.
All three mounted the stairs and they were rotated upwards into the Headmaster’s office.
It looked just the same as Harry remembered. Fawkes the phoenix was snoozing on his perch. He was looking a little raggedy, but Harry smiled at him. He missed Fawkes.
Dumbledore sat down behind his desk.
“Now,” he said to the two young men. “You may begin.”
“James Potter and Sirius Black tried to kill me!” Snape burst out again. There was a hysterical edge to his voice. No doubt the reality of what had just happened was beginning to sink in.
“Why, you little…”
Dumbledore held up his hand again. “You will be able to speak in a moment, Mr. Potter. Let us hear Mr. Snape out.”
“Potter and Black tricked me into following Remus Lupin into the Whomping Willow, so Lupin---that, that thing, that werewolf ---could kill me. They’ve been trying to kill me for years, and tonight they almost succeeded!”
“I see.” Dumbledore tipped his head down, so he could look over his spectacles at Harry’s dad. “And how do you respond to those charges, James?”
“Headmaster, Sniv—uh, Severus has been following Remus around for the last few months, wanting to know where he went when the moon was full. He spies on people, always hanging about corners and under stairways. Tonight Sirius caught him spying again. Sirius was just having him on, sir, honest. All he said was how to stop the willow from whomping. I know Sirius, sir. He never thought Snape would actually go through with it.”
Snape snorted loudly at James’ protestations, but the Headmaster continued to look grave.
“And at what point did you yourself become involved in this sad business?”
James took another deep breath. “Sirius mentioned to me what he’d done, sir. Thought it was a good joke. It was only when we saw Snape going outside that we realized what he was going to try to do. I ran after him, and got to him just in time.”
“And why did you not alert the school authorities instead, Mr. Potter? Did you actually expect that you and Severus would be able to take on a full-grown werewolf by yourselves?”
James looked stunned for a moment.
“No, I…Well, I guess to be honest I didn’t really think about it, Headmaster. I just knew I had to get to Snape before Lupin did.”
“That was an exceptionally dangerous thing you did tonight, Mr. Potter,” Dumbledore finally said. “Exceptionally dangerous, but also exceptionally brave.”
Snape’s head, which had begun to sink down a bit so he could hide his face behind his curtain of hair, snapped up again.
“What?!”
“Severus, what Mr. Black did was thoughtless, cruel, and irresponsible, but I do not believe he actually intended to kill you. Mr. Black often does not think about the consequences of his actions—something which, I promise you, his punishment shall take into account. But I do believe you are being unduly hard on Mr. Potter because of your past treatment of one another.”
“Me? Hard on him? On him?” a flabbergasted Snape repeated.
“I think if you will examine the facts you will have to concede that James did not have to act as he did. He might have not mentioned Sirius’ actions at all, in which case I am afraid, Severus, you might not be standing here with us right now. He might also have come to me or to Professor McGonagall for aid, a delay which would probably also have cost you your life. In saving you Mr. Potter did indeed act with no thought of his own safety, and with good intentions. You owe him your life,” Dumbledore said softly.
Snape’s eyes were shuttered, his mouth compressed into a thin line. “So now I’m supposed to acknowledge him as a hero?”
“You see what he’s like, Professor?” James complained loudly. “You just can’t reason with him.”
Dumbledore waved away James’ statement, focusing instead on young Snape.
“You owe James Potter a life debt, Severus,” he repeated calmly but firmly. “That is not something to be casually pushed aside because you are angry with him.”
Snape stared at his shoes, but his body language was frosty.
“As you wish, Headmaster.”
“Good.” Dumbledore leaned back in his chair. “Neither of you will ever speak of what has occurred this evening.”
“Sir?” James asked.
“You, James, will not tell anyone about Sirius’ actions, or about your rescue of Severus. I will hold Mr. Black to the same terms. And you, Severus, will not tell anyone about Remus Lupin’s unfortunate condition. If either of you disregard my orders on this matter I will be most seriously displeased.”
Both boys nodded solemnly.
“Yes, sir,” James said softly.
“Yes, Headmaster,” Snape repeated, but with a defiant glint still in his black eyes.
“And if I have either of you up here again this year it will be grounds for immediate expulsion from Hogwarts. Do I make myself understood?”
They nodded again.
“Then you are both dismissed.”
The two boys kept a wary distance from one another on the stairs. Neither spoke until they again reached the lower hallway.
“Well, I guess that wasn’t as bad as it might have been,” James said.
Snape just stared at him murderously.
“What now?” James sighed and held out his arms. “All right, Severus, let’s have it.”
“I don’t owe you a life debt!” Snape hollered at the top of his lungs. James winced, and even Harry cringed a bit at his volume.
“I don’t care what Professor Dumbledore says! I don’t owe you anything! If you were lying broken and bleeding at my feet I wouldn’t lift a finger to help you!”
James just shook his head. “Fine, Snape. You don’t owe me anything. I’m going to bed.”
But Snape’s wrath was not to be cooled so easily.
“I don’t, do you hear me, James Potter?” He called after the other boy’s retreating back. “I don’t! I don’t!”