Learning to Trust Year 2

None of these characters are mine, it all belongs to JKR.

The Head of Slytherin House at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry was no stranger to the dark paths where monsters roamed. He could inhabit the world of shadows as though he belonged there and in bleak moments, he often wondered if in fact, he did.

Yet as he hastened along one of the ancient castle's winding stone corridors, accompanying the tall frame of the headmaster and the fretting Deputy Headmistress, he felt the spidery prickle of fear along his spine.

Their suspicions that a mysterious, legendary and ultimately lethal beast had been set loose somewhere within the castle were solidifying into certainty and Professor Severus Snape felt pure dread unfurl in the hidden recesses of his heart at the very idea.

In a matter of seconds, the reason a man so accustomed to facing demons felt such deep terror at the thought of a fabled beast stood before him.

The boy was thin with round glasses perched on the end of his nose. Behind the lenses which shimmered soft gold in the candlelight, the emerald eyes were worried.

They met Severus' darker ones and the man felt the burgeoning fear within him threaten to choke him.

How could one so small, so slight cause such intense dread? The Potions Master knew the answer. He was the one who had elected to stand between this scrap of a boy and danger and may all the warlocks of old preserve him but the task was proving to be more of a challenge than he could have ever dreamed.

"Sir, Professor Dumbledore, Sir, Professor McGonagall, I swear I didn't," the child was babbling even as Snape's companions were examining the ominous sight before them on the ground.

It did not escape Snape's notice that his ward's troubled eyes never left his. As he held the boy's distressed gaze, chaos erupted around the Potions Master.

Professor McGonagall was gasping, turning to Albus Dumbledore while a small but fast growing group of students had emerged from the shadowy castle passages, their shock at the macabre scene in front of them palpable.

Snape scanned the tableau before them dispassionately. Another student, Justin Finch Fetchley lay prone on the ground. Suspended above him the house ghost, Sir Nicholas de Mimsy dangled without movement.

"I didn't do anything," Harry was still issuing denials, watching his guardian carefully.

Professor McGonagall turned to look at her most famous pupil.

"What happened her, Potter?" she asked, her face fraught.

"He's done in Justin, that's what!" the accusation was levelled from within the mass of huddled students gathered around the stricken boy.

"Fletchley is not dead, he's been petrified!" Professor McGonagall's swift reassurance did not allay the growing sense of suspicion and fear that had begun to radiate from the assembled students.

They were all of them aware that the hospital wing was beginning to fill up with students who had met this fate, all of them with one thing in common, Harry Potter.

The realisation brought Snape's eyes back to his ward. His brows were knitted together in a dark scowl.

Harry read it to mean anger and feeling that his guardian was persuaded to believe the growing consensus that Harry was on a destructive rampage of vengeance against those who had annoyed him, he shook his head and stared Snape straight in they eye.

"Sir, Professor, I never did! I found him like this," he insisted again.

"What were you doing in this corridor, Potter?" Professor McGonagall asked the very question that swam in front of Severus' mind.

"Ah. I believe that I can account for that. You see I had Harry here serving his detention with me in my office. The hour got a bit later than I realised," the silky tones of the flamboyantly clad Defence against the Dark Arts teacher was accompanied by a simpering smile that struck Snape as out of place in the less than amusing circumstances.

Privately, Snape held that Gilderoy Lockhart was foppish fool whose vanity was exceeded in scale only by the void where reasonable intelligence should be.

The twinkle in his eye and the beguiling smile was more suited to a errant mischief maker caught stealing one too many chocolate frogs from the candy trolley.

Children were being attacked and right in the centre of this unravelling nightmare was Harry, whose thirst to prove himself was leading him to dangers he could not understand.

Snape felt the sensation of being strangled by fear return. To combat it, he took a step forward, closing the little distance that lay between him and the boy.

"Perhaps Potter was simply in the wrong place at the wrong time," he intoned carefully, his eyes holding the stormy green gaze.

It was as close as he could or would come to stating in company that he had no doubt that Harry was innocent of harming another.

Severus Snape knew better than to betray his hand to others without first knowing what their agendas were. Trust no-one were the words he lived by and so far, they had kept him alive when the odds were shortening.

Yet he wanted the boy to know that he believed him and he hoped that Harry read that in his eyes.

His pale face and worried eyes said otherwise and Snape was unhappy to see the glimmer of fear spark behind the round spectacles.

Harry was expecting retribution from his stern guardian, warily waiting for the explosion.

In the year that Harry had been his ward, Severus had managed to build some bridges with the boy.

They had fallen into a routine of breakfast together in Snape's private quarters, time which was usually spent talking about plans for the day to come. Severus was pleased to discover that his ward was good company, bright and curious with quick humour. Harry did not seem to find his own long silences a problem and saw no need to try to fill them with mindless

chatter.

Snape made an absolute point of attending Harry's Quiddich matches and the boy was more pleased than Severus could ever have imagined to see him in the stands. Now, when he played, Severus knew that the Gryffindor seeker walked onto the pitch scanning the crowd for his guardian.

Yet, Harry's experience with his muggle family had left scars that would not be healed by comfortable breakfasts or proud applause when he played well.

Time and plenty of it was the only cure Snape could think of yet every time he saw the frisson of doubt, of fear in his ward's eyes, his chest tightened. A fragile trust was growing but the slightest threat of disapproval, of annoyance or anger brought back Harry's conviction that he was in danger of being hurt.

"Innocent until proven guilty Severus," the single utterance by the Headmaster had the desired effect of bringing the impromptu inquisition to an end.

"Come with me, Mr. Potter," Snape inclined his head towards his quarters and moved forward with a fluttering whisper of black robes.

The knot of students parted as soft butter before a blade. Snape did not look back but he knew that Harry was walking behind him, trying to match his pace and even from three steps in front, Snape could feel the weight of dread that lay on the boy.

A flick of his wand had the door to his rooms opening before him. He swept in, turning to hold the door as Harry followed.

Harry walked into the now familiar space and heard the door close with a click behind him as Snape pushed it shut.

He turned and faced his stern faced guardian, anger and fright warring in his heart.

"I never attacked Justin. Or Mrs. Norris. And I didn't write those things on the wall," the words tumbled from Harry's mouth in a rapid fall, borne on heat and delivered with far more defiance than he felt.

"No,"

"I didn't hurt anyone!" Tears surfaced though Harry fought them.

"No."

"And if I knew what was going on, I would tell you. I don't know who the heir is or where the chamber is but if I did, I would not be keeping it a secret!" Harry took a deep breath, finally running out of steam.

"No."

"What?" Harry blinked and then stared at Snape as though seeing him for the first time.

While Harry had raged, the Professor was characteristically calm. Harry was sure he had misheard what he had said.

"You believe me?" he frowned, feeling the first glimmer of hope penetrate the helplessness that had been drowning him.

"Of course," Severus nodded once, his eyes never leaving Harry's.

Harry exhaled, releasing a great burden. He swallowed and let his feet take him further into the room, closer to the tall man who was regarding him carefully.

"I thought you were going to kill me," Harry said.

"I know. Sit." The Professor waved a hand in the direction of the couch, while he himself went to stand before the fireplace.

Harry obeyed, settling himself on the very edge of the seat.

"Haven't I told you I will only ever punish you if you have done something to warrant it, Harry?" Severus said, his tone soft but intent.

"Yes,"

"I gave you my word and I always, always keep my word, young man," Severus gave the boy a long look from beneath his eyebrows.

"Yes," it was Harry's turn to nod.

"No one else believes me except Ron and Hermione, that is. Especially since the talking to snakes thing. People are looking at me like I'm a maniac. A freak!" the tears leaked down Harry's face and Snape could not decide if they came from the tension caused by the atmosphere of terror that was growing at Hogwarts daily or if they were a sign of the relief at talking about it.

"You have to know that you are neither," Snape knew the feeling Harry spoke of, knew the uncomfortable mantle it made.

Being understood was still a very new feeling to Harry. It was precious but new.

"This is the only place that I ever really belonged but even here, I am different," he said.

"You will not always see that as a bad thing, Harry," Snape sighed and wished that there was a spell that could give youth the wisdom of experience.

"What is happening, Severus? Why are people getting hurt?" Harry asked.

"I do not have the answers to give you. Not yet but believe me, I will find out. But until I am satisfied that the danger is passed and you are safe, you must adhere to the new rules absolutely and without exception, Harry," the Potions Master said.

He gave the boy a stern glare, fully aware that his ward played fast and loose with the rules and the Weasley influence was strong wind in the sails of that adventurous streak.

Harry's damp gaze flickered away from the Professor's. He wouldn't lie and he thought it best that the subject of rules was let lie without much further exploration.

Hermione's Polyjuice plan had been executed not exactly without a hitch but they had gotten some answers in this unfolding and terrifying mystery but if his guardian found out what they had done, Harry didn't even want to think about the trouble he'd be in. Ron and Hermione too.

Severus noticed the waver and was instantly suspicious. He leaned a little towards the boy.

"Let me be very clear, Mr. Potter. Whatever scheme you and the dream team of Granger and Weasley are concocting, abandon it now or you will feel my wrath."

Snape's tone was icy and Harry knew he meant business.

"Mr. Weasley and Miss Granger may not be in my house but I promise you, if I catch the three of you up to any foolhardy risk taking and none of you will sit down for a week. Am I understood, young man?" Snape kept his eyes trained on Harry's.

The memory of Justin laying so still on the corridor, the horrible image of Mrs. Norris stiff and unfeeling brought pallor to Harry's face. He didn't want to see anyone else hurt.

Severus knew he had made his point, he also knew that the boy had been through quite enough for one night. If nothing else, an evening with Lockhart was a trial that needed no encore.

He reached out a hand and laid it gently atop the child's tousled head. "You must be exhausted. Tonight, you may sleep here, in my quarters. I do not want you returning to the dorms at this hour," his tone was deliberately softer.

"Severus? Sir? Can I ask you something?" Harry frowned and expecting another question about the heir of Slytherin, Snape inclined his head in a signal of permission.

"When Ron drove his father's car to school and Mrs Weasley found out, she sent him a howler,"

The older wizard almost smiled at the memory of it. Molly's hot headedness was a matter of renown.

"Would you send me one of those if I stepped out of line?"

Harry looked up at him, a truly uneasy expression on his face at the very thought of it.

Severus rose an eyebrow. He wasn't often taken by surprise but he hadn't expected Harry's question to be about howlers, given everything that was going on.

He gave the boy a small smile as he shook his head.

"No, child. I will not be sending any howlers to you. Anything I have to say to you, I will say in person. And that is especially true if I wish to express displeasure. Unless I am speaking to you as your teacher if I scold you, it will be in private."

The dark eyes of his guardian were warm as they regarded Harry's disgruntled expression.

The boy's face cleared. He could respect that.

He stood up.

"Goodnight, Sir."

Impulsively, Severus reached out and pulled the child to him for a quick, one armed hug.

"Goodnight Harry," he whispered.