kbinnz - Harry's New Home

"Mm. Some people are more perceptive than others," Snape remarked pointedly. "And some are better suited to carrying out plans than making them. I will be in contact shortly with your first assignment."

"Assignment?" Lucius sputtered. "Am I your errand boy now?"

Snape rolled his eyes. "Just consider yourself lucky that you are no longer subject to a ridiculous dress code or to kissing a madman's soiled robe." At Lucius' genuinely outraged expression, he relented. "I can promise you will enjoy this task. It will appeal to yourтАж tastes," he offered, giving Lucius a meaningful look.

"Oh?" Lucius began to perk up. Even without Voldemort's return, it seemed he'd be given the opportunity to torture a few people. Things were looking more promising. "All right then," he conceded, mollified.

Snape snorted to himself as he headed to the floo. The Dark Lord's habit of Crucio'ing his followers into abject obedience suddenly made a lot more sense.

He returned to Hogwarts and checked on Pansy in the Infirmary. The girl was sleeping, but Madame Pomfrey was confident of her recovery. Both parents were there and тАУ as Snape had expected тАУ livid.

"Who is responsible?" Mr Parkinson shouted furiously. "I'll make them wish they were never born!"

"I want a name, Professor Snape." Mrs Parkinson was quieter, but no less menacing.

Snape cast a privacy ward around them. "I am afraid that Pansy's injuries were inflicted by someone you knowтАж and serve."

Parkinson's shouts broke off with a gasp of horror. He might not be bright, but he wasn't that stupid. "Y-you mean You-Know-Who? He- he's back? And He hurt our little girl?"

Snape looked sympathetic. "He required the life force and magical core of someone. Pansy was that someone," he explained, carefully omitting a great deal of the story.

"But we're purebloods!" Parkinson nearly wailed. "He's not supposed to attack us! We support him!"

Snape's expression was one of gentle surprise. "You have never been present when the Dark Lord saw fit to 'chastise' a follower?" he asked, knowing full well that the man had seen many such examples.

Snape fought back a laugh at the look of ludicrous dismay on Parkinson's face. It was a good thing that Voldemort had treated his Death Eaters with such casual brutality. If he had reserved his tortures for mudbloods and muggles, the Parkinsons would never have believed his claims.

Mrs Parkinson's face twisted with rage. "I told you he was an unstable maniac!" she hissed at her husband. "No one ever knew where he came from! What kind of pureblood would hide his ancestry like that?"

"But he said he was the Heir of Slytherin," Parkinson protested pitifully. His world was collapsing around his ears, and he was poorly suited to handle such stress. He preferred to shout and hex things until they went away. "Everyone thought he was a Black with the way Bella fawned all over himтАж"

"Even the Blacks weren't that incestuous!" Mrs Parkinson spat back viciously. "And if the Blacks were descendents of Salazar Slytherin, don't you think they would have been boasting about it for the last ten centuries?"

"Oh, didn't you know?" Snape's tone was innocent. "The Dark Lord is the child of a Muggle and the last of the Gaunts. Merope used a love potion to snare a muggle husband, and she was related to Slytherin."

"A love potion!" Mrs Parkinson's expression curdled in contempt. "What kind of woman has to use a love potion?"

"She was probably insane," Snape offered helpfully.

"This is your savior?" Mrs Parkinson spun back to her husband. "A half-blood? The product of a crazy witch too feeble to trap a husband without Dark Arts? Someone who sacrifices the children of his own loyal followers?"

"I тАУ I тАУ " Parkinson stared helplessly at the pinched, white face of his only daughter. "I didn't know."

"We are asking my family for assistance," Mrs Parkinson told him in tones that permitted no argument. "I will not serve that тАУ" she trailed off into Italian oaths.

Snape listened in admiration for a few moments then said mildly, "I take it you would then be interested in allying yourself with a group dedicated to the Dark Lord's final defeat?"

"Not those bloody Order idiots!" Parkinson managed to rally momentarily. "They're all a bunch of sodding Gryffindors!"

Snape glared at him. "Do I look like a Gryffindor?"

Mrs Parkinson elbowed her husband into silence. "Our apologies, Professor. Now we understand why you accepted the care of the Potter bra тАУ er, boy. I regret that we were slow in realizing your strategy. Of course you may count on our support, and that of my mother's family." She tilted her head proudly.

"No Potion Master can be unaware of your family's skills," Snape replied courteously. "I am glad to welcome such allies."

"My family's powerful too," Parkinson put in, a bit jealously.

His wife rolled her eyes.

"Yes, I was of course referring to both your families' resources," Snape soothed.

"Call us when you need us," Mrs Parkinson advised, then turned back to her daughter's bedside.

Snape exchanged a nod of farewell with Parkinson, then left the Infirmary. He managed to avoid rubbing his hands with glee, but inwardly he was rejoicing. His plans were working out brilliantly!

He headed to his quarters, intent upon celebrating his successes with a fire whiskey, only to halt on the threshold at the wreckage in his living room.

"Hi, Da!" Harry waved.

"Hello, Professor!" Hermione Granger called, her greeting echoed by Ron Weasley, Draco Malfoy, and Neville Longbottom.

A house elf cannoned into his knees and hugged his legs with abandon. "Ooooooh, Master Potion Master Sir is home! What can Dobby be getting for the wonderful Master Potion Master Sir? Would Master Potion Master Sir like tea?"

Using his formidable powers of mental discipline, Snape managed to ignore the importunate elf. "What is going on here?" he demanded of Harry.

"We're teaching Dobby to play Exploding Snap," Harry explained innocently. "We tried Wizards' Chess, but he didn't like it when the pieces yelled at me."

"Yeah! He broke them all for bein' rude!" Ron chortled, pointing to the rubble of Snape's once-expensive chess set, before grabbing another handful of crisps from one of the many bowls of snack food that littered the room.

"I tried to use Reparo, but it didn't work very well," Neville confessed apologetically, glancing at the three shredded cushions now propped next to the remains of the chess set.

"How come Dobby is yours now, Professor?" Draco asked curiously. "He's been in our family for, like, forever!"

"You know, Professor, enslaving house elves is a terrible tradition," Hermione said sententiously. "Muggles gave up slavery centuries ago."

Draco made a rude noise and she turned on him angrily, and within seconds they were noisily squabbling. Harry, Neville, and Ron tried to help and the decibel level soared.

"Capuccino? Lemonade? Pumpkin juice?" Dobby was still trying to secure a drink order from his new master.

"ENOUGH!" Snape roared, and instantly silence fell.

"Miss Granger, I will not engage in a debate about the ethics of house elf ownership with you at this time, but you should know better than to take a position before you have done sufficient research. The nature of the bond between wizard and house elf is significantly different than that used in Muggle servitude." Hermione subsided, looking thoughtful.

"Mr Malfoy, your father owed me a debt, which he repaid with this house elf. I suggest that you do not inquire further as to your father's private affairs and that you take care not to lapse into such sloppy speech patterns upon your return home." Draco paled and nodded.

"Mr Longbottom, kindly do not practice your spells on my belongings again. I will expect you here after supper for an hour of detention practicing Reparo under my strict supervision." Neville brightened up. Finally someone was going to give him special coaching.