|| A Matter of Malevolence ||

A thousand years ago at least,
Great heroes of renown
Would offer lives in sacrifice
To save their small home towns.

They fought the fight, they kept the faith;
They never showed distress!
But with them dying left and right,
The heroes numbered less.

Then lo, did come in nick of time
Four wizards true and brave;
They worked quite hard to change the world -
For lives and land to save.

Vampires they fought, and dragons, too -
Let's not forget the hags,
Spiders, warlocks, snakes and ghouls,
All were in the bag.

All in all, it took them years;
But they established peace,
And no more was it necess'ry
For heroes to decrease.

Of course you've guessed the ending now,
And think there's no surprise;
I beg to differ - no, my friend:
There is just ONE aside.

Because, you see, the one who chose
To put forth such an effort
Was not the good, brave Gryffindor,
Nor Hufflepuff, the Zealot.

It wasn't dandy Ravenclaw,
Though stupid, she was not;
In point of fact, 'twas Slytherin
Who organized this lot!

He'd thought of fame, he'd counted gold,
Put wisdom to the test;
And in the end, decided
Reputation was the best.

And so when Hogwarts first broke ground,
The world did clamor close -
To learn from these four Heroes true
Was what they wanted most.

So listen well, and learn, my friends,
All houses, great and small:
There is a place for EVERYONE...
And that, my dears, is all.

The Sorting Hat took a bow, and as the Great Hall burst into thunderous applause, Professor McGonagall looked over the heads of the boys she was scolding and gave it a very unhappy glare for being finished before she was.

"The hat's song is done," she snapped, looking back at the sopping miscreants before her. "And you two are out of good graces for tonight! Get back in line, behave, and if I hear that either one of you has so much as set a foot out of place the rest of this evening...." She left it unfinished, which really was just as well; considering that between the two of them they'd bewitched the lake green and the giant squid into wearing baubles, it was readily apparent that neither student was lacking in imagination.

"Bagman, Ludovic!" "Slytherin!" The hat had already begun to sort, but fortunately, both children were alphabetically toward the end, and could find their spots without too much difficulty. Chilly lake water dripped from their robes onto the floor.

McGonagall fumed back to her seat. It was really a minor miracle that only one boy had ended up in the hospital wing, given the violence of their disagreement.

"Black, Sirius!" "Gryffindor!"

Dumbledore waited until McGonagall had seated herself and stopped huffing before he said anything. "Was there a problem, Minerva?" he asked conversationally.

"Bones, Andrew!" "Ravenclaw!"

McGonagall waited until the cheering stopped to answer. "Those two there - the wet ones - fancied they'd have a go at each other on the way across the lake. I'm not sure what set it off; neither of them felt inclined to explain, not even to blame one another, which I found odd."

"Goodness, Minerva!" whispered Sprout, leaning across as well. "What in the world happened?"

"A lot of luck," McGonagall growled, and crumbled her napkin in her lap. "It's a good thing their aim wasn't nearly as refined as their proficiency in cursing or all three of them would be in the hospital wing."

"Three of them?"

"There's the last one," she said, and pointed. An older man accompanied by a younger woman came trotting to the door and sent the remaining boy, who was rubbing his eyes, to the end of the line. "Conjunctivitis Curse," McGonagall explained quietly.

The timing couldn't have been better; still rubbing his eyes, the boy trotted up to the hat as his name was called.

"Lupin, Remus!" "Gryffindor!"

Dumbledore sighed quietly. "Thank you for handling it, Minerva. I'll take it from here."

The Gryffindor table cheered, and the line of students moved slightly forward. Clustered together as if for protection, the row of eleven-year-olds stared with awe at the room around them and jumped at small noises.

"McCormick, Megan!" "Slytherin!"

There were only a few under the enchanted starlit sky who didn't seem as inclined to fear. Not crouching or cowed, these took a slightly different tack. Some of them simply grinned at the pairs of eyes gleaming curiously in the dark all around them -

"Potter, James!" "Gryffindor!"

- while others adopted an attitude of lofty calm. Of course, two of the boys pulled more attention than others because they were still sopping wet.

"Snape, Severus!" And one of those, staring straight ahead as though nothing and no one existed in this room except for the Sorting Hat, seemed to have come off just slightly worse than being soaked. His limp wasn't so pronounced that most would notice it, but when he pulled the Sorting Hat over his head, this was the first thing it commented on.

Well, you're an interesting one, said the hat, settling down past the boy's ears and resting on his nose. Shame he got you in the leg like that - wasn't really a fair fight, was it, two on one?

Just sort me, I haven't got all night, the boy snapped back, and the hat's laughter echoed through his head.

Well, I suppose that cinches it, it said, shifting a little around his wet hair. Neither brains nor bravery do you lack, but your heart carries darkness and anger - too much, I'm afraid, to put you in any place except for....

"Slytherin!"

The Slytherin table cheered, and the boy removed the hat from his head and hurried toward his chosen table. He could hear "Timms, Agatha!" making a small noise of disgust as she discovered just how wet the hat was after he'd put it down, but he didn't care. Dropping into a seat at the very end of the table, he pressed his palms against his eyes and leaned forward until his straggly hair hid his face.

Across the hall, over the sound of Wood, Jonathan ("Hufflepuff!"), he was almost sure they were talking about him. Paranoia in the dark was never healthy; but they were sniggering and looking his way -

"Widdershins, William!" was sorted into Slytherin, and everyone applauded for the last time as Dumbledore stood to open the feast.

"I've never been fond of long speeches before eating," the headmaster said cheerfully. "And so I only have one word of advice before we begin: enjoy!"

Everyone cheered. Food made its appearance, conversations bloomed, and the boy named Severus slowly sat upright and looked without interest at the room around him.

No one seemed to be looking back at him; perhaps his moment of humiliation had passed. Just to be sure, he glanced toward the Gryffindor table.

The ones who'd dueled with him were laughing together, talking, apparently bonded by their brief and impassioned conflict on the lake. They looked, to him, absurdly happy.

Severus watched them for a while; the peach crisp scooped anonymously onto his plate grew cold, and still, he watched them. Had anyone he'd ever seen laughed and grinned for that long a period of time? He rather thought not, and for the life of him, he couldn't figure out why they were so happy.

There was a short lull in the hall as the eating began in earnest, quieting the general noise enough that he could suddenly - unfortunately - hear their boisterous conversation.

"Still can't believe he just cried like that - it's not as if you broke his leg, Black!"

"Well, he deserved it, the greasy git, didn't he? But I still think that little move of yours was better, Potter. Kazaam, right to the stomach!"

They laughed, and Severus hunched forward again, hiding behind his hair. But it was too late; Black, apparently, had caught him looking.

"All right, Snivellus?" he called amiably across the hall, and most people around him laughed just because he was contagious like that. Severus hunched lower and hid behind the pumpkin juice pitcher.

More laughter from the Gryffindors, and more - he was sure - eyes on him; the brief yearning he'd felt at watching their happiness was already gone. His leg was hurting; perhaps it was better not to think about it anymore.

"Damn them all," he said in a quiet voice, and poked at his peach crisp until dinner at last was over.

He was the first Slytherin - save the prefect - out the door, and he did not look back.


"And this is the common room," said the prefect Malfoy, flicking a hand lazily toward the room of cold, damp stone loaded with chintz furniture. "This is where you'll probably end up spending most of your evenings, doing your homework or whatever. And please don't forget, the password is 'praeclarus.'"

"Praeclarus? What kind of a password is that?" a boy with limp, blonde hair was saying. "I think we should make it something simpler - like 'beautifulness!'"

"'Beautifulness' isn't a word, you idiot," replied another boy.

"That's what would make it such a good password!" argued the first, growing slightly red in the face.

"Now, now, you two," Malfoy intervened, looking from one to the other. "Abbott, wasn't it? And Rosier? It's only your first night, you can save the arguing for later. Boys' dorm is in there, girls' dorm is that way."

Abbott eyed him dryly. "None of us are girls."

"We can't be sure of THAT just yet, can we?" said a girl of about fifteen, speaking snidely from the girls' dorm doorway. "Haven't seen any of you lot naked."

"Ah," Malfoy said, and for no discernible reason, looked incredibly amused. "Hello, Bertha."

Bertha gasped. "Um... enjoy your tour!" she squeaked, and disappeared back into her room.

Malfoy smirked coolly and shook his head. "I slipped a love potion in her tea last week just to see what would happen," he said to the staring first-years. "It didn't work quite right; now she just acts like a blubbering git."

"You wanted her to fall in love with you?" said Rosier, looking slightly dubious.

"Of course not. She's three steps away from a Hufflepuff," replied Malfoy as though it were only common sense, and shook out his long, blonde hair. "All right, then," he said, looking the rest over. "Who are you all and where do you come from? I'm Malfoy. Lucius Malfoy. I'm also prefect this year, as you might have gathered; that means I get to tell you people what to do. And the rest of you?"

The eleven-year-olds shifted, glancing around a little.

"Well, come on!" Malfoy insisted, and began to point. "You? Rosier. Speak."

"I'm Rosier," said Rosier, brushing his over-long brown hair out of his eyes. "And my father knows your father, I think; he's on the Wizengamot."

"Then they know each other, I'm sure," drawled Malfoy with some satisfaction, and eyed Rosier critically. "What was your first name - Evan, right? The second? Yes, our fathers know each other quite well. All right, and what about you?"

"Artemus Abbott," said Abbott, trying to toss his hair as Lucius had done; being limp and lifeless, however, it just sort of flopped in one thin mass. "I've been doing magic since I was two years old, so if you people need any help at all through our first year, you can be sure to come to me and I'll tell you what you need."

Malfoy narrowed his eyes. "Is that true?" Abbott seemed to hesitate slightly, then nodded. Malfoy snorted. "Well, then I'll expect to see some great things from you later - hey! Where are you going?"

Severus was leaving.

He'd never been around this many people at once, and the noise alone was enough to bother him; on top of that, he'd decided that Malfoy was a pompous git, Abbott was full of dragon manure, and simply put, he didn't want to hear anymore. "To bed," he answered coolly, edging the words with just enough sarcasm that the boy who'd laughed at Lucius's earlier comment laughed at this one.

"No, you're not," Malfoy replied, ignoring the boy who laughed. "You're staying right here and telling us how you pulled off that Conjunctivitis Curse. That's something even most seventh-years can't do well, you know."

Now everyone was looking at Severus. Severus stared back. They'd seen? They KNEW? For a moment, his eyes were wide with apprehension; then somehow, the nervousness transformed into anger, and he scowled. "No, I don't think I will. Why don't you ask Abbott? Given his credentials, I'm sure he could give you a more than adequate explanation." And with that, Severus stormed through the door and shut it behind him.

He could hear them talking behind him ("I'm William Widdershins, but you can call me Willy," said the boy who had laughed at him), but he paid them no mind. The door to the boys' dormitory opened onto a cold, stone hallway; there were tapestries and portraits along the way, and one solitary suit of armor.

"Got a bit of a limp there, don't you," creaked the armor in a high, oil-free sort of voice as he passed.

"Shut up," replied Severus, and the armor huffed.

"Suit yourself," it said, and then started laughing wheezily. "Get it? SUIT yourself? SUIT! Ha ha!"

Severus ignored it and picked one of the doors at the end of the hall at random.

He was faced with a small, perfectly round room. Five four-poster beds were spread evenly around; there were no windows for obvious reasons, although there were large, rectangular holes above each bed that seemed to be for ventilation. There was no way to know which bed belonged to whom. Sighing, he bent and began checking the trunks at the foot of each to try to find his own.

"Hey. Snape," came a voice from the door, and Severus turned to find Malfoy looking at him. "You really need to go to the hospital wing, you know. That Gryffindor got your leg pretty good. Much higher and he would have hit you in the nadgers."

This conversation had just left annoying and landed squarely in embarrassing."Did you memorize all our names, or only those of people you thought would be useful to you?" Severus snapped.

Malfoy's eyes widened slightly; then, he laughed. "Oh, you're just adorable! Actually, I wanted to ask you about that Conjunctivitis Curse - "

"I'm not telling you anything," Severus said decisively, and slammed the trunk shut. "Go away."

Malfoy ignored that. "Your room is to the right of this one," he offered helpfully, but he was smirking; Severus scowled at him and pulled out his wand.

"You want the Conjunctivitis Curse, do you?" he said, his voice deceptively smooth. "Keep pushing and you'll get a first-hand demonstration!"

"Well, well, Severus," said Malfoy, purring a little, his hands up in surrender. "I'm not your enemy, you silly child. I'm trying to help you."

"No, you're not," Severus replied, scowling; but he felt embarrassed at his loss of temper now, and put his wand away. "Just go away."

Malfoy sighed dramatically and ran his hand through his hair. "I can tell you're going to be difficult. That's all right, I can deal with difficult. Come on - I'll show you to your room." He moved to the door, then stopped and looked behind him. "Well? Coming?"

Severus scowled further, but followed. It was that or sit in somebody else's room in the dark - and that would just be stupid.

His own room, it turned out, was much the same as the last one. Severus climbed onto his headboard and peered into the wide airspace above his bed.

"Curious, Severus?" asked Malfoy, who was watching him closely from the door.

"No," Severus lied, and hopped back down again; escape was a concern in a place with no windows. All business, he walked around to his trunk and started unpacking it.

Malfoy watched him in silence for a while, then lay down on Severus' bed and watched him from there. "Ready to go to the hospital wing yet?" he asked, sprawled gracefully on the pillows.

"No," Severus replied, then winced as he turned too quickly.

"I think you need to," said Malfoy, and Severus sighed.

"You're going to nag until I give in, is that it?"

"Why yes - you figured out my dastardly plan," Malfoy sneered, and Severus glared at him.

"I don't. Want. Your help. I don't. Want. Your friendship. I don't want ANYTHING at all from you except for your silence, so if you're so eager to help you could at least give me that!"

"Oh, MY," Malfoy exclaimed, looking highly amused. Severus growled at him and resumed unpacking.

Slowly, the other first-years shuffled into the room. Most of them looked tired and were yawning, but one or two were still curious. The small, mousy-looking boy hopped onto the bed next to Severus and bounced on his knees.

"Hi!" he said.

Severus ignored him. Carefully, he took an old-looking leather box out of his trunk and placed it on the nightstand next to his bed.

Willy was eyeing the box with great fascination. "I said - hey, do you want that? It's a really nice box - "

"Shut up."

Malfoy laughed. "Ignore him, Willy, this one bites."

Severus' glare could have melted iron.

"I don't fancy my pillow," said Rosier.

"Take Willy's," Lucius instructed, and the Rosier did just that.

"Hey!"

"Don't worry about it, Willy; Rosier here's got more muscle power than you, so he gets the better pillow."

Rosier laughed, tossing his own pillow over to replace the one he'd snatched. Abbott whistled.

"Might makes right, eh? Machiavelli was dead on, let me tell you!" he said, looking pleased with himself.

"It was Thrasymachus," said Severus in a tone like a chilled knife as he pulled out his pyjamas. "Justice is whatever is in the interest of the ruling party. The ruling party is always the stronger. Therefore, justice is always whatever is in the interest of the stronger party. Don't talk about things you don't understand," he sniped, and pulled off his robes. There were purple bruises decorating his back and sides.

Malfoy laughed and lay back against Severus' pillows. "Educated firstlings! Marvelous."

Abbott was staring at Severus' body. "Who hit you?"

"Probably somebody else he tried to correct," sneered Rosier, and Willy guffawed.

Severus ignored them all. Solemnly, he donned his slightly worn pyjamas and glared at Malfoy until the latter got off his bed. He was tired of all the talking, tired of the idiocy, and the jostling for control, although he supposed there hadn't really been that much jostling. Malfoy had simply walked in and taken control, and that was that - the privilege of a prefect.

Too bad. Severus had no intention of doing anything anybody said, and he had no problem cursing anyone who tried to make him.

"You really need to have your leg looked at," Malfoy drawled at him, and Severus growled and pulled the blankets over his head. He was asleep before the rest of them had finished talking.


It had been a strange sort of relief to finally leave his home and travel to Hogwarts. His father shouted a lot. His mother merely cringed, and the two of them carried on a bitterly miserable ballet through the house regardless of who was there or what they were doing. Severus himself had learned long ago that his presence made no difference in their pitiful warring; it did, however, affect how he felt. Loud voices and intrusion upon personal space were two things he absolutely COULD not stand, and given this, his reaction to Willy Widdershins crawling bodily over him at four in the morning was actually commendable.

Severus was in the middle of a deeply satisfying dream in which he'd bewitched all the castle doors to close in Malfoy's face when suddenly he felt a weight on him. Panicking - half-asleep, sure he was being attacked - he shouted quite loudly and threw the attacker off.

"Oooow!" Willy moaned as he hit the floor. "What'dja do that for? Ooooow!"

"Lumos! What the hell were you DOING?" Severus shouted, standing on his bed and pointing his wand directly at Willy's heart. His hand was shaking slightly; teeth bared, he looked half-mad.

Willy glanced toward the well-loved leather box on Severus' nightstand and said nothing. Severus' eyes narrowed.

"Oi... what's going on? Who's shouting?" somebody mumbled, and a moment later three more wands responded to Lumos and lit the room. Then, because God was against him, the door opened.

"What's all the shouting ?" asked Malfoy sleepily.

Severus was staring at Willy, teeth still bared. Willy stared back.

"Look, I... I just wanted a look, that's all," Willy said in the tone of a well-practiced negotiator. "Nothing wrong with that, is there?"

"Severus - your leg is bleeding," Malfoy pointed out calmly.

It was true. The right leg of his pyjama bottoms had gone brown and was sticking to his skin.

"Probably because this idiot felt the need to CRAWL on me!" Severus snapped viciously, and began stripping immediately, grabbing for his robes.

Malfoy yawned. "Going to the hospital wing now? You'll get in trouble for walking about."

"Shut up," Severus said again, tucking his wand into his robe pocket. He hopped off the bed - narrowing missing Willy, who scuttled out of the way with a squeak - and stalked past Malfoy and out of the room.

"Curiouser and curiouser, said Alice," murmured Malfoy to no one. "Back to bed. All of you. And Willy... whatever you were doing, for Merlin's sake, don't do it again."


Hogwarts was a different sort of place at four in the morning. No one was around, except for some of the ghosts, and it was only as Severus glowered his way up to the main level that he realized he had no idea where the hospital wing was.

Asking was embarrassing; but then so was waffling around until someone caught him. Now that he was out of his dorm, the realization that he WAS breaking the rules hit him very hard, leaving him with a slightly queasy feeling in his stomach.

Rules were not meant to be broken. Severus had learned that principle before he could even walk, and he always abided by it.

"Got to be here somewhere," he muttered, limping more quietly now that he'd analyzed his situation; and really, why was he out here in the first place? Because Willy had spooked him, he'd lost his temper, been embarrassed, and fled. This wound on his leg was nothing that couldn't wait a couple more hours until morning, but now that he was already out, his pride wouldn't let him go back.

"Damn it," he muttered. "Damn it all." He passed a suit of armor that snickered suspiciously at him (he resisted the temptation to blast it into pieces), then hid from an odd, squat ghost who seemed to be fascinated with the effect of bundium secretion on chalk boards. Wishing he knew a good spell to use on ghosts, Severus continued to explore until he found himself in front of a very curious-looking painting.

There was a man on a horse in it. A man who, in spite of the portrait's bewitchment, sat utterly and completely still. He glared out at the world through long, lank, and unruly black hair, hawk-like eyes shining with baleful pride above a similarly hawk-like nose; Severus supposed it fit the theme. The man held something in both his long, strong-looking hands. In the left was a large vial of glowing red liquid, bubbling ominously; in his right was large jar of something that almost looked like molten gold, if molten gold could ever glow that brightly. Behind him rose a dark shape; it seethed. It moved, all on its own. It scared Severus nearly witless, and he had no idea why.

The portrait was titled: Power to Hold the World.

"Amazing, isn't it?" came a voice from behind him, and Severus whirled, hand clenching the wand in his pocket out of habit. Then, he stared.

It was the new headmaster. The HEADMASTER had caught him out of bed. All was lost.

"I... sir, I can explain!"

"Of course you can, Mr. Snape. I always thought he'd have made such a wonderful schoolmaster, just in terms of the raw authority coming from him, but ah - he chose to be of Walpurgis instead. You can't control another person's destiny, can you?"

What? The man was rambling. "Uh.... " Severus glanced around. Nobody else was present; the severe fellow in the portrait ignored them both. Well, at least the headmaster wasn't threatening detention. Maybe he was sleepwalking. Severus glanced around one more time, then decided he might as well push it. His leg was still hurting, after all. "If you please, headmaster, I need the hospital wing."

"Of course you do, Mr. Snape. Chocolate?"

Severus was still staring. "Chocolate?"

"You eat it," replied Dumbledore with a twinkle in his eye. Severus was unused to twinkles, ocular or otherwise, and responded by stepping back a bit.

"No," he said, as though Dumbledore had offered him a virulent orange spider.

"No thank you, Mr. Snape. Come on, then - to the hospital wing we go! But I warn you - Healer Smethwyck will insist on you eating chocolate anyway." With that, he turned and walked down the hall.

Severus had to rush to catch up.

It seemed that Healer Smethwyck kept odd hours. He was wide awake, although the young woman Severus had seen with him earlier was nowhere to be found.

"Ah, Albus! Good morning, good morning - what's this now?"

"A student, Severus Snape," Dumbledore said, placing one hand on Severus' shoulder; Severus jumped.

Smethwyck peered through half-moon glasses. "And the problem?"

"A variation on a Furnunculus Charm, I do believe," said Dumbledore and, Severus stared at him again. Did EVERYONE know what had happened on the lake? "You'll find it's hit him in the leg."

"That's nothing to joke about," said Smethwyck calmly, and patted one of the examination beds. "Up, Mr. Snape. Let me have a look at you."

Severus wasn't sure what to make of the fact that Dumbledore knew what Black had used. It didn't seem possible; worse yet, once the possibility had been accepted, it opened up a lot more that Severus was simply not ready to handle. What else did the strange man know?

Dumbledore smiled harmlessly.

Severus swallowed, then quietly clambered up onto the bed, his feet dangling; his gaze stayed on the headmaster as Smethwyck lifted his robe - not too high - and began to poke and prod.

"Oh. Mm, this is very bad, yes, you should have come in sooner. I'm going to get you some chocolate, Mr. Snape, and then ask you to lie very still. This is going to hurt a little. In fact... Poppy! Poppy, get out here, I want you to see this!" Adjusting his glasses, Smethwyck wandered off someplace to fetch his assistant. Severus kept his eyes on Dumbledore, suspicious.

Dumbledore smiled. "If you have a question, Mr. Snape, please don't be afraid to ask it. I always encourage questions, myself, even though I don't always encourage answers."

Questions of all kinds tumbled in Severus' head, but he chose to avoid anything remotely personal. He'd heard rumors about this headmaster defeating Grindelwald, or something to that effect. Someone like that knew more than he should, so personal questions weren't safe. "Very well. What was that painting in the hall?" he asked.

Oddly, it seemed that Dumbledore was slightly disappointed in the question he chose. "His name was Veneficus Princeps. He was an ancestor of yours, I do believe."

"What?" What? An ancestor? WHAT?

Smethwyck returned accompanied. "Here he is, Poppy; now, I want you to do what I tell you to, and don't ask questions." The young woman - about twenty, if Severus was thinking clearly - approached him with professional calm and lifted his robe all the way to inspect the injury. Severus blushed. Ignoring Smethwyck's quiet instructions, he looked away from the woman to stare at the headmaster.

"Uh - ancestor? From the Continent?" Severus asked to draw attention away from the woman prodding his thighs.

"Why yes, he was," Dumbledore said, his eyes sparkling again as he studied the stone above Severus' head with great fascination. "And Veneficus was a very, very powerful wizard. Unfortunately, he was also very dark - " he paused while Severus winced, eyes closing tightly at the sudden, burning pain in his leg, " - but a most interesting fellow, nevertheless. From what I understand, your family has continued to have an unusual ability with potions, isn't that true?"

"Ah," Severus said, holding absolutely still. It felt as though they were stripping his muscle through the skin. "Y... yes," he said in a smaller voice, and breathed through clenched teeth.

"Your mother certainly showed a talent for it. Tell me, has she made any effort to continue her work?"

This conversation was surreal. Severus pictured his mother, miserable and hiding away in their house. "Not... really," he gasped, and clenched his fists. He focused on Dumbledore's voice, rather than the pain which was making his eyes tear up. For some reason, it seemed to help.

"That's rather sad," Dumbledore said sincerely, and took a piece of chocolate. "I'd hoped she would do so much more with her life. Again - you cannot control another's choices. You know what I'm talking about, don't you, Mr. Snape?" He popped it into his mouth.

"Yeah," Severus said in a voice suspiciously like a squeak, and then went limp with an exhausted sigh. Poppy had finished; the pain was suddenly, surprisingly gone.

Poppy was holding up something in a large pair of tweezers, something wire-like and glowing; whatever it was, it was twisting slightly.

"Vicious, vicious thing," she muttered to herself, and took it into the other room to dispose of it.

"Rather creative for a Furnunculus, I MUST say," Smethwyck commented dryly, eyeing Severus as if suspicious. "I've seen it before, but not terribly often - "

"Now, Hippocrates, don't guess," Dumbledore chided lightly. "It won't be cast again by the person who cast it, at any rate."

Smethwyck glanced at Dumbledore doubtfully for a moment, then looked back at Severus and prodded his bandage. "You'll be all right in a few hours, Mr. Snape," he said, pulling Severus' robe back down. "I'd suggest you skip your first class and stay here."

"No. No, I won't skip any classes," Severus snarled, as though Smethwyck had opined he ought to kill his mother.

"You have to," Smethwyck snapped in return, frowning slightly. Then he stiffened, unprepared for the fury in Severus' eyes.

"No. I WON'T stay in here!" Severus insisted, sitting halfway up; Smethwyck pushed him back down.

"Do I have to spell you?" he threatened vaguely, and Severus bared his teeth.

"He certainly should be well enough to go to class, Hippocrates," Dumbledore intervened gently. Severus and Smethwyck both looked at him.

The doctor sighed. "All right, all right; but he's sleeping until then, you understand?"

"Yes, of course - we should all be, really, but I do sometimes like my walks before dawn," Dumbledore said, and stood. He smiled. "I find one tends to think best then. Rest well, Mr. Snape; I'll see you in beginning transfiguration." And with that, he turned and left.

Smethwyck eyed him. "Sleep," he ordered, and also left.

Severus sighed and closed his eyes. He was finally alone. Relieved and feeling almost safe for the first time since he'd arrived at Hogwarts, Severus abandoned all heavy thought and fell asleep.

He dreamed of chocolate.

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